#i know communication's a 2-way street and of course I have to reach out if I want others to talk or be friends or etc

[effigyofowls]

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[fortheloveofwonderland]

Somewhere to Belong | 3/3 | S.R

Part three of my Family Challenge fic.

Part 1 | Part 2

A/N - I am almost positive this is not how the adoption system works but hey, it’s fanfiction, I make my own rules.

Summary - You reveal your master plan to Spencer and the two of you begin on your journey together. Will you be able to help Spencer bring Wren home where she belongs? And when the time comes, will you have what it takes to walk away?

Pairing - Spencer Reid x BAU Fem! Reader

Warnings - confessed feelings, tears, mostly just domestic fluff, making out, allusions to sex but still SFW, crying child, swearing, happy ending.

WC - 9.4k

Part 3

The wheels of your plan had been slow turning, painfully so. You’d started to think you may never reach the end of this goddamn road. 

But finally after months, all the pieces had fallen into place. 

When you received the phone call you were already halfway out of the door before the person on the other end had even finished their sentence. It was the phone call you’d been waiting for, holding your breath every time the device rang. 

And now it had happened, it was time to go and see him. 

You drove out into the suburbs, a manilla folder full of paperwork in the passenger's seat. You parked next to the curb by the house with the canary yellow fence and green front door. 

Before you could exit the car you saw the door open and Spencer let someone out the house. The women had a briefcase and wore a smart pants suit. Definitely a social worker. 

You watched the woman head to her own car and once she was inside the vehicle and starting the engine you stepped out onto the street, bringing your folder with you.

As you headed for the yellow gate your phone buzzed in your pocket. Slowing your strides you retrieved it and read the text message on the screen. 

📱 Spencer Reid: I think it’s over. There’s another couple who have shown interest in adopting Wren and I don’t think I can compete with that. I’m ok, I’m not craving or anything. I just wanted you to know. 

You stuffed the device back in your pocket and looked up at the house, a single light coming from the downstairs window. 

Since you’d accompanied him to Beltway, the two of you had been in touch more regularly. Spencer texted you nearly every day and you spoke on the phone fairly often. 

You’d seen him a handful of times for coffee but you’d never been out to his home in Woodbridge. It was a really nice house, a family home just like the team had described to you. It was a complete one eighty from his old DC apartment. 

You unhooked the gate and slid past it, hugging the folder to your chest as you made your way along the front path and up the steps. 

Before you could talk yourself out of this, you knocked on the green front door. 

Soon you heard it being unlocked and then it tentatively opened. Spencer’s eyebrows knitted together in confusion when he saw you. 

“Y/N hi,” he opened the door slightly wider. “I just texted you.”

“I know, I was…in the neighbourhood?” You shrugged. “Can I come in?” 

“Yeah, of course.” He nodded, stepping aside to allow you entrance to his home. 

You walked inside while he shut the door behind you and you glanced around the living room. 

You recognised his leather couch and armchair from his old apartment as well as his record player and chess set. The coffee table was the same but other than that this was not the home you pictured Spencer Reid living in. 

He waited for you to take it in and only spoke again once you looked back at him. 

“Can I get you a drink or anything?”

“No, I’m good.” You nodded, feeling oddly nervous. 

He motioned for the couch and the two of you crossed the room together and sat side by side. You laid the manilla folder in your lap and ran your fingers over it. 

“Whatcha you got there?” He asked, nodding at the file. 

“Uh, well you see…” you trailed off, unable to find the words to communicate what you wanted to say. “How about you have a look.” 

You handed him the file. For a moment he just stared at it with a frown before he cautiously took it from your hand. 

He opened it and started one by one going through the pieces of paper inside. 

The first was an application with a large red stamp proclaiming APPROVED in the bottom right corner. There were several sheaths that documented personal information about you, health checks, financial records, questions and answers relating to your childhood. 

There was a rental agreement renewal for the address in which you lived which had gone unsigned as though you were hesitant in continuing your lease. 

Multiple pages he’d seen before, floor plans of his own home, summaries of home visits at this address. 

One sheet was a letter signed off by BAU Unit Chief Emily Prentiss agreeing to a cut in field hours. Two more sighed letters followed, both dictating what an upstanding human being you were, one signed by SSA Luke Alvez and the other Doctor Tara Lewis. 

He read through them quickly as you knew he would but it still somehow felt like a lifetime before he was neatly tucking the pages away and closing the file. He looked up at you, eyebrows furrowed heavily. 

“I don’t…” he swallowed, his hands starting to shake. “I don’t understand.” 

“Yes, you do.” You nodded. “You’re a genius aren’t you?”

“I…is this a joke?” His eyes flooded with unshed tears as he rolled his bottom lip between his teeth.

“It would be a pretty cruel thing to joke about.” You shrugged.

Spencer rubbed his eyes, trying to push away his tears before they could fall. 

“Just to confirm,” he swallowed thickly, his eyebrows still knitted together in his confusion. “Because I don’t want to misunderstand what’s happening here…”

“Spencer,” you placed your hand on his knee and he noticed you were shaking too. “I would do anything for you. Anything. If this can help you bring that little girl home, then I’ll do it.” 

“You…you’ve gotten approval from the adoption agency.” He croaked. 

“Yes.”

“You’ve done the interviews, cut down your hours at the BAU, not renewed your lease and had Alvez and Lewis write you character references.” 

“Yes.” You nodded. “I still don’t think I’m ready for a family, Spencer. But I can sign on as Wren’s adoptive mother on paper, just so you can get her home. Once she’s home and the paperwork is finalised they can’t take her away from you. We can figure out all the rest once you’ve got her home, I can terminate my rights or whatever. But by then it won’t matter.” 

“W-why would you…” he trailed off again, swallowing. “Why would you do that for me? That’s…crazy. Why would you want to go through all this trouble just so I can have a better chance of adopting Wren?” 

You inhaled really deeply, your chest heaving as you did so. Spencer blinked rapidly in an attempt to clear the new batch of tears from his eyes. 

“I should have said it back.” You mumbled with a shake of your head. “Months ago, you told me you loved me and I should have said it back. But instead I walked away and let you believe I didn’t feel that way about you. But I do. Just because we aren’t together doesn’t make that any less true. And if I can help you bring Wren home I will. Because I love you.” 

The room fell silent while Spencer worked to comprehend everything that was happening. His head spun as though he was drunk, making it harder for him to understand all of this.

This couldn’t have been some idea you’d just come up with, weeks if not months of work had gone into this. You were willing, on paper at least, to be Wren’s adoptive mother when you weren’t ready to have kids. 

You’d told Emily, Luke and Tara at the minimum of your plans. You were willing to give up your apartment, cut back your hours at a job you adored to help him. Because you loved him. You loved him so much you were willing to put his happiness before your own. 

“It’s too much.” He shook his head. “I can’t ask you to do all of this.” 

“Good job you never once asked then.” You smiled at him. “It’s all temporary. Once Wren is home I can pick back up my regular case load, I spoke to my landlord about subletting my apartment for a few months so I can move back in once everything is settled.”

“You plan to live here?” He suddenly made the connection. 

“Well I’ve got to live somewhere. And you know, us living in the same house gives the impression of a happy couple who want to adopt a child, don’t you think? It won’t be forever.” 

“What am I supposed to say to my social worker? I forgot to tell her that I had a partner?” Of course he’d try and pick holes in this, it was what Spencer Reid did best. 

“We say we were together but I didn’t think I was ready for a family. But now I am. We tell them I met Wren and fell in love with her and now we want to adopt her together. It’s pretty much what I wrote in my application.” You’d considered every outcome, every bump in the road.

“But you haven’t met Wren.” He shook his head. 

“So I will.” You chuckled. “Spence, stop trying to put blockers in the way when there aren’t any. Let me do this for you, please? Let me help you bring your little girl home.” 

Spencer stared at you silently, blinking frantically as he tried to understand what was happening. He didn’t want to get his hopes up only to have them dashed again but you seemed sincere. 

He still didn’t understand how you would be willing to go to such lengths for him but he supposed it didn’t matter. What mattered was you were willing to and he could use all the help he could get. 

Suddenly he threw himself forward, arms flying up to wrap around you. He pulled you close, holding you tightly as he started to loudly sob.

“T-thank you.” He cried into your shoulder as you returned his hug.

“You’re welcome, Spence. You’re so very welcome.” 

You continued to hold him while he sobbed, stroking his back in an attempt to calm him. It was over a half hour later when he finally shed all of his tears, sniffed heavily and sat back to look at you. 

“You really are my most favourite person.” He smiled shakily at you. 

If you didn’t love him so much there was no way you would have even considered helping him adopt a child even if it was only on paper. 

But love makes us do crazy things. And this might just be the craziest.

***

Two days later you anxiously sat in the passenger's seat of Spencer’s Volvo while he drove the two of you to Wren’s halfway home. 

You played with your hands in your lap, barely speaking as you tried to comprehend meeting this little girl who had become Spencer’s whole world. 

You’d agreed to tell Wren you were Spencer’s friend it was the truth and much less complicated than explaining everything to her. You would test the waters with her first, see how she felt about it before broaching it with the social worker. 

Your legs wobbled a little as you got out of the car and Spencer was regarding you curiously. 

“Are you sure about this?” He asked softly, his fingers brushing across your knuckles. 

“Yeah.” You forced a smile. “She means so much to you, I’m just worried she won’t like me.” 

“She’s going to love you. Trust me.” 

The look he was giving you made your stomach coil into knots. Your knees buckled and your heart yearned for him. 

It was such a cruel world that you could be so in love with someone yet not be destined to each other. 

As you started towards the building he slipped his hand in yours and it was so easy to pretend this wasn’t all for show. 

He led you inside, saying his hellos to some of the people working in the halfway home, clearly he’d been here a lot. He carried on through to a larger room filled with kids of all ages, your heart bled for them all. 

As your eyes cast around the room, you were quickly snapped back around when you heard someone calling Spencer’s name. 

“Spencer! Spencer!” 

You looked back just in time to see a head of dark curls you remembered from when you’d seen her sleeping on Spencer’s lap at the BAU running right towards the two of you. 

He let go of your hand so he could outstretch his arms for the girl who happily fell into them. 

“Missed you.” She tucked herself in his arms. 

“I missed you too, pumpkin.” He sighed in content as he hugged her. 

You watched the way he seemed to light up the moment Wren was nearby, how all the weight he carried on his shoulders slipped away. As he cuddled the five year old, he seemed at peace. 

And you knew you were doing the right thing. 

Wren stepped back from his embrace and looked up at you, head tilted to the side in a curious fashion and little dark eyebrows furrowed. 

“Who are you?” She asked, pouting a little. 

“This is my friend, Y/N.” Spencer spoke for you. “Y/N, this is Wren.” 

“Why is she here?” Wren looked back at Spencer in concern. 

“I thought you’d like to meet her.” Spencer’s tone completely changed when he spoke to her, you’d never heard him like it before. 

It was soft and sweet, obviously it relaxed the young girl. Usually. But it was clear by the concerned expression in her face it wasn’t working today. 

“But I like spending time with you.” Her lip jutted out. 

“I’m still here aren’t I?” Spencer chuckled, tucking a rogue strand of her hair back off of her rosy face. 

“Hey Wren,” you crouched down so you were the same height as her, garnering her attention. “I heard you love Halloween?” 

She looked between Spencer who was still standing at his full height and back to you before looking back at him again. 

“It’s ok,” he encouraged her with a smile. 

She looked back at you once more, a hint of scepticism in her bright eyes. 

“Yes.” She nodded feverishly. 

“And you love books too, right?” 

“Yes.” She nodded again. 

“Well that’s perfect because I just so happen to have a book all about Halloween!” You grinned at her whilst reaching into your purse.

Spencer frowned a little, you hadn’t mentioned this on the drive over. He watched as you pulled a book out of your bag, a brightly coloured hardback depicting cartoon pictures of ghosts, witches and monsters getting ready for a spooky party. 

The title read The Night Before Halloween. 

Neither of you could tell what Wren was thinking, for a five year old she was amazing at masking her expression even though she probably didn’t realise she was doing it. 

She looked from the book to your eyes then to Spencer and around in the same loop a few times before settling on Spencer. 

“Do you want me to read it to you?” He asked her, trying to prompt her to speak. 

“No.” Wren shook her head and turned back to you.

You tried to hide your disappointment. This was your only play, your only way in with her and you’d blown it. 

But then the little girl smiled at you. 

“I want Y/N to read it to me.” She reached out her little hand for you and you pushed yourself back up to your full height and took it. 

She led you over to the couch with Spencer following close behind. You glanced at him over your shoulder and he was smiling at you as he mouthed the words, good job.

***

Two more visits with Wren and she had warmed up to you the same way he had with Spencer. By the third visit she even hugged you. 

And you saw exactly why Spencer loved her. 

By the time September rolled around you’d moved into Spencer’s suburban home - in the spare room - and had multiple visits with Jenny who struggled to grasp what was happening at first. 

Understandably she was sceptical about your sudden involvement but after more rigorous interviews she started to warm up the same way Wren had. 

As you weren’t travelling with the team so much anymore and mostly working cases out of Quantico, you and Spencer spent a lot of time together. 

He was always home before you, his classes at Marlborough never running past four pm. And as much as you hated to admit it, having someone to come home to everyday was delightful in its domesticity.

When you did travel with the team, usually around every one in four cases, Spencer would call you everyday and send you photographs of him and Wren when he visited her. 

Spencer was learning to cook for Wren so the poor girl didn’t have to live off of cereal, coffee and ice cream, or as you always referred to it: The Doctor Reid Diet. 

He tried out his new recipes on you and at least eighty percent of them were edible. 

You’d been allowed to take Wren out on more day trips, with Jenny in tow of course. The two of you took her to museums and book stores and ice cream parlours; to the park, once to a carnival and anywhere else her little imagination could think to go.

It was midway into October when you arrived back from a case in Florida in which you’d been gone for six days. You knew Spencer had waited up for you as he’d called you to tell you he would. 

When you let yourself in the green front door of the house that was feeling more like a home by the day, it wasn’t the messy haired genius who met you. 

What did meet you certainly had messy hair, but its dopey expression told you it was no genius. 

The creature trotted over to you, tongue hanging out of its slightly lopsided mouth and offered you a single bark whilst nuzzling against your shin. 

You stared at the scruffy dog using your leg as a scratching post with wide eyes. Somewhere in the house you heard footsteps and you glanced up to see Spencer appearing from the kitchen. 

“Hey, how was your day?” He smiled at you, completely ignoring the confusion on your face. 

“Uh, it was perfectly normal until I came home and was greeted by this.” You pointed down at the mutt who was staring expectantly at you. 

“He. Not this.” Spencer padded over and quickly scooped up the small, messy animal in his arms. “This is Rover.” 

Rover licked Spencer’s cheek and much to your confusion, the germaphobe didn’t even bat an eyelid. 

“Last I checked Rover was a stuffed animal. This creature seems to be very much alive.” 

“Wren decided she wanted a dog. I said we could go to the pound and look, just look. But, uh, she kinda fell in love with this little guy and I can’t say no to her.” He shrugged, scratching Rover behind his ear. 

“So you now have a dog.” You hung your bag up by the door.

“We have a dog.” 

“Oh no.” You shook your head, walking past him towards the kitchen. “I’m outta here once Wren’s home. The dog is your problem.” 

Spencer placed the creature, which you thought more resembled a gremlin than a dog, on the floor and followed you. 

“He’ll grow on you.” 

“He most certainly won’t. I’m a cat person. And last I checked you weren’t all that keen on dogs either.” 

“But Wren is. So I guess I’m a dog person now.” He leant against the counter in the kitchen while you grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge. 

You turned back to look at him as you uncapped it. You had a curious smile on your lips.

“What? What’s that look for?” He frowned a little.

“It’s just funny,” you took a sip. “Six months ago I would never have imagined either of us to be here.” 

“Me either.” He agreed with a smile. 

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you this happy before.” 

“I don’t think I’ve ever been this happy before.” He started towards you. “You’re a big part of that, you know? I know this is all for show and we’re just doing this until Wren is home, but, uh…I like having you here.” 

“It’s not all for show.” You placed the bottle on the counter behind you as you felt a little dizzy with the way Spencer was looking at you. 

“No?” He reached you, stopping a few feet in front of you. 

“I like being here too.” You confessed, your legs shaking a little due to the look he was currently giving you. 

“I’m glad.” He swallowed and your eyes were drawn to his Adam’s apple and the way it bobbed deliciously beneath his flesh. “I’m, uh, I’m on the verge of doing something very dumb.”

“How do you know it’s dumb until you do it?” You had a pretty good idea of what he was talking about. 

“Because I’m a genius and my brain is screaming how dumb it would be.” He chuckled, stepping even closer to you. 

“Maybe for once, don’t listen to your brain, Spence.” 

To encourage him, you reached for him, placing your hand on his shoulder. He swallowed again as he stepped nearer to you still. 

Cautiously he raised his own hands and placed them on the sides of your face, eyes darting back and forth between your eyes and your lips. 

“Don’t listen to my brain?” He whispered, wanting confirmation.

“Just this one time.” You offered him a smile and it was all he needed to close the space between you. 

When his lips gently brushed against your own, your hand quickly moved from his shoulder to the back of his neck to keep him close.

You parted your lips and he replied in kind by deepening the kiss. 

He pushed his body flush against you, pressing you into the counter. He held your face delicately but soon the kiss was growing frantic. 

It wasn’t at all long before he was manoeuvring you away from the counter and towards the kitchen door, never tearing his lips from yours. Not at least until his back collided with the door.

He broke the kiss and started to laugh, you did the same. He reached behind him and opened the door, taking your hand pulling you along with him.

The two of you were giggling like a couple of teenagers as you ascended the stairs, neither of you paying much mind to the dog asleep in his bed. 

He led you to his room and once inside he pushed you back against the wall and kissed you ardently again.  

He rolled his hips against yours so you could feel the bulge in his slacks and you moaned into his mouth. 

And then he was leading you to his bed as he helped you out of your clothes. 

It was only then as you lay beneath you realised how much you’d missed him. And you knew when or if the time came for Wren to come home and this little domestic bubble popped, it was going to be hard to drag yourself away. 

***

You fell asleep wrapped in Spencer’s arm after several hours and multiple orgasms. When you woke in the morning he was already awake, staring at you with a smile on his face. 

“Hey,” he stroked your messy hair behind your ear.

“Hey yourself.” You smiled back, inching closer and placing a gentle kiss on his lips.

“Last night was…” he trailed off searching for the right word but finding none that did it justice. 

“Amazing?” You laughed lightly.

“That’s certainly one word for it.” He agreed, hand cupping your cheek. “So I don’t wanna be the kind of person that asks this but, uh…did that mean something? Was it just sex or did it mean something? Because I would…uh…I’d really like it to have meant something.” 

His nerves were tangled in his words and you could see in his eyes that he hated asking you this. You smiled and ran your fingertips lightly over his bicep. 

“Well I guess that…” you were stopped by the sound of Spencer’s phone ringing and he pulled a face of frustration. 

“Shoot,” he let go of your face. “To be continued?” 

You nodded and watched him roll over, grabbing his cell phone off the nightstand and putting it to his ear while sitting up on the edge of the mattress. 

“Doctor Reid,” he spoke and then was silent for a moment or two and his back straightened. “Seriously? You…I…seriously? Uh, yeah of course. Today? Gosh…yes. Ok. Ok. Thank you. Goodbye.” 

His hand holding the phone fell to his lap limply but other than that he didn’t move. You rolled closer to him with a frown, wrapping an arm around his waist when you were close enough.

He slowly turned his head to look at you and you couldn’t read his expression.

“Spence?” You croaked. “Is everything ok?” 

He exhaled through parted lips, his eyes widening a little before he slowly started to nod. 

“Y-yeah,” his voice cracked. “Yeah everything’s great. That was Jenny. Apparently we’ve been approved for placement under supervision for Wren. It might not be permanent and Jenny will visit every week. But they wouldn’t let us bring her home if there wasn’t a strong possibility of us being able to adopt her. She’s coming home, Y/N. Our little girl is coming home.”

His tears overflowed when he reached the end of his speech and the smile that adorned his lips was brighter than the sun and all the stars in the sky combined. 

You jumped up and threw yourself into his lap, wrapping your arms tightly around him. 

“Oh gosh Spence, that’s great!” You felt your own tears well in your eyes as he held you. 

And for some reason when he called her our little girl, it didn’t freak you out in the slightest, 

***

Wren was an excitable blur of hand gestures and bounces in her seat as Spencer drove the three of you home later that afternoon. 

She’d only ever seen photographs of the room Spencer had put together for her and she was buzzing to see it with her own eyes. 

It was only once he got close to home driving through the neighbourhood she had lived with her parents whom she watched die, that she clammed up.

You sat in the back of the car with her and watched the way her eyes turned down at the corners as she looked out the window at the familiar houses. 

You reached out to her, held her hand.

“It’s ok if you miss them, Wren.” You whispered and her head whipped around to face you.

She was gnawing on her bottom lip, perhaps trying to stop from pouting. 

“But I don’t want to make you and Spencer sad.” She spoke in equally hushed tones. 

“Hey now silly girl,” Spencer’s right hand appeared between the front seats, blindly reaching for her knee. “You could never make us sad. You have no idea how happy you make us, pumpkin.” 

“But you will miss your mommy and daddy and we want you to be able to tell us when you do, ok?” You added, squeezing her hand. 

“O-ok.” She nodded, turning back out of the window. 

Soon enough Spencer pulled the car to a stop outside of the house with the canary yellow fence and green front door. 

He exited the car and rushed around to open Wren’s door while you unbuckled her seatbelt. He lifted her in his arms, spun her around twice, and planted her on her feet on the sidewalk. 

She instantly reached for you both, gripping Spencer’s hand in her left and yours in her right. 

You and Spencer shared a smile over her head as you led her up to the front door. 

The second the door was open a messy haired small mutt ran at full pelt towards the three of you, practically crashing straight into Wren. 

She giggled and threw her arms around the dog. 

“Rover!” She screeched, burying her face into his matted fur. 

Spencer took her bag from her and unzipped it, pulling out the toy Rover and holding him out towards the girl and her dog. 

“Rover meet Rover.” He spoke and Wren beamed brightly as she took the toy from him. 

She held it in front of the real dog's face and he licked the toy feverishly, making Wren giggle again. 

“I think they’re going to be friends!” She cheered happily. 

“That’s a relief.” Spencer chuckled, hand naturally slipping in yours. 

“Would the Rover’s like to see your new room, honey?” You asked Wren, entwining your fingers with Spencer’s.

“I think so!” She jumped up and down. “Come on big Rover, come on little Rover.”

You and Spencer shared another smile as you led the way, hand in hand, up the stairs and towards the room at the end of the hall. 

One of the Rover’s was held by Wren around his neck while the other followed of his own accord. You both stepped aside and motioned for Wren to open the door. 

She looked positively giddy with excitement as she reached for the handle. She pushed open the door and Spencer reached inside to flick the lights on. 

Her eyes widened as a dozen strings of pumpkin fairy lights cast their glow across the warm autumnal walls, thick cream carpet and everything in between. 

She took a few steps inside the room and the two of you watched her eyes flicker between the My Little Pony bed sheets, her name placard above the bed, the bookshelf stuffed full of books, another shelf packed with stuffed animals. 

They moved between the dog bed meant for little Rover which big Rover was now already making his way to, to the dresser under the window with a little mirror and her very own chess set. 

They made their way to the wardrobe which Spencer had stencilled with falling leaves and little brown birds of her namesake. 

Her eyes danced from here to there, there to here and back again. When they finally came to a stop on you and Spencer, they were full of tears. 

“This is…for me?” Her bottom lip pouted. 

“I don’t know any other little girls called Wren.” Spencer smiled at her. 

She suddenly dove at the two of you, one arm wrapping around each of you and nuzzling between you. You felt her small frame racking with sobs and it made your heart melt. 

“T-thank you.” She cried, squeezing you both as tightly as she could. “I love you.” 

You looked at Spencer, you both had tears welling in your own eyes. 

And god dammit if you didn’t love her too. 

***

The three of you ate ice cream for dinner on the floor of her bedroom at Wren’s insistence. 

You and Spencer played with her and her new collection of stuffed toys, as well as the real life Rover before you took turns reading to her until she finally fell asleep. 

Rover was already curled up in the dog bed at the foot of Wren’s bed so you left him there and the two of you quietly crept from the room. 

With the day's events you hadn’t had a chance to talk about what happened last night and now you were in the corridor, you weren’t sure what room to go to. 

Clearly Spencer didn’t either. 

He awkwardly scuffed the toe of his candy corn print sock on the carpet whilst rolling his lip between his teeth. 

“Should we, uh…talk?” He shrugged. 

“Most likely, yes.” You nodded and silently he led the two of you back downstairs to the living room. 

You were both quiet, not meeting the others' gaze as you sat in the armchair and him on the couch. The air was thick with tension, and you didn’t even know where to begin with this conversation.

“I know you don’t want to be Wren’s mom.” He suddenly blurted out. “And I’d never ask you to. But I love you and last night was…it was perfect. I don’t want to choose between having you and Wren in my life. I know it wouldn’t be easy because if everything goes to plan I will have a child at the end of it. You think there’s any chance you’d want to date a single dad?” 

He was talking so fast all of his words merged into one and it took you a few moments to ascertain what he was saying. But before you could really catch up, he was talking again.

“We get Wren home permanently, you can give up your rights just like you planned. You move out and you go back to your normal case load but maybe…maybe we can work things out? I know it won’t be easy but I don’t care. 

You clearly mean a lot to Wren and I know she would love it if you were still a part of her life after all this, even if it’s not as her adoptive mother. And I hope that you can still be part of my life. As my partner, my one true love. 

Wren will be my reasonability, I won’t expect anything from you in regards to her. But I don’t want to be without you, even if it means our life is separate from my life with Wren. I don’t think it’s entirely beyond the realms of possibility to think we could make it work. I just think-”

“Spencer,” you had to cut him off or he would spend the next hour rambling. “I don’t think it’s entirely beyond the realms of possibility either.” 

“You…you don’t?” He inhaled sharply.

“It’s not going to be easy,” you pushed yourself up and moved slowly closer to him. When you reached him you lowered yourself so you were sitting in his lap. “It’s going to be hard in fact, really hard. But dating a single dad doesn’t sound like the worst idea in the world. Especially when that single dad is you.” 

His hands glided across your back, settling on your shoulder blades and holding you firmly in place, 

“We’ll make it work.” He smiled at you, inching closer.

“We’ll make it work.” You repeated just as his lips pressed against yours. 

***

The day after Wren was placed with you and Spencer, he and the little girl started excitedly decorating the house for Halloween which was two weeks away. 

The house was a menagerie of fake cobwebs which you kept walking into, strings of little ghosts hanging in every doorway. A newly carved pumpkin appeared on the porch every single day you returned home from work. 

By the time Halloween rolled around the three of you had fallen into somewhat of a routine. 

You had tried to distance yourself from parental activities, as soon as the paperwork was finalised you would be moving out and you didn’t want Wren to get too used to you being around. 

The last thing you wanted to do was confuse a child who had already lost her biological parents. 

Spencer dropped her at school on the way to Marlborough everyday and picked her up on his way home. 

He cooked dinner which the two of them ate together and he saved leftovers for when you arrived home. 

Nine times out of ten Wren was already in bed by the time you got home from Quantico which helped. It also gave you alone time with Spencer. 

Usually you wouldn’t even be in the door more than ten minutes before he was leading you to the bedroom. You’d been sleeping in his room since Wren had come home, although there was usually little sleeping happening. 

You’d both quickly learnt how to be quiet, not wanting to further traumatise the girl by having her hear the two of you having sex. 

The routine seemed to work for the three of you, it allowed Spencer and Wren to grow closer whilst allowing you and Spencer to grow closer. 

On Halloween night you got out of work slightly earlier but still expected Spencer and Wren to be out trick or treating. 

He’d promised the little girl months ago to take her and she’d been so excited for tonight, talking about it non stop since she’d come home with you. 

He wanted to make her a costume and you tried to teach Spencer how to sew but when that didn’t work you showed him how YouTube worked so he could learn that way. 

He’d slaved over creating her a pumpkin costume which was a little lopsided and probably could have been neater but he was so proud of his creation. 

Wren had insisted he dress up too so you arrived home to find Dracula in your living room. 

“What happened to trick or treating?” You asked as you stepped in the door and hung your jacket up.

“Oh hey,” he smiled brightly as soon as he saw you, moving closer to you. He went to kiss you but then remembered the fake blood on his mouth and refrained. “We’re about to leave, Wren is just getting dressed.” 

“Did she love her costume?” 

“You have no idea. I’ve never heard a five year old scream before and I’m not sure it’s something I want to relive in a hurry.” He chuckled, straightening up his cape. “Now you’re home you can join us.”

“I don’t think so.” You shook your head. 

“Oh come on, she’d love it if you came.” Spencer gave you his puppy dog eyes which you tried to ignore. 

“You’re the parent.” You reminded him. “And besides, someone should stay home with Rover.”

“Rover is ten years old and sleeps all day.” Spencer rolled his eyes. “He’ll be fine.”

“I don’t know. I just-” 

You were cut off by the sound of Wren running down the stairs. When she appeared in her pumpkin costume, complete with orange painted face, she was smiling from ear to ear.

“Y/N!” She jumped up and down excitedly. “I’m a pumpkin!” 

“Oh wow, you look great!” You cheered. 

She beamed, happily showing off her costume like a proud parent. 

“Are you coming trick or treating with us?” She asked with expectant green eyes. 

“I don’t think so, sweetheart.” 

“Please! You have to come!” She jiggled, rocking back and forth on the balls of her feet. 

“Yeah Y/N,” Spencer smirked at you. “You have to.” 

“I don’t have a costume.” You shrugged. 

“Leave that to me.” Spencer stepped closer to you and took hold of your hand. “Wren give us five minutes and we’ll head out, ok?” 

“Ok!” She nodded, moving aside so Spencer could lead you upstairs. 

You let him lead you to the bedroom, which he’d done countless times before but you knew this wasn’t for the reasons you would like. 

“I took the liberty of picking something up for you at the costume store when I was getting mine.” He let go of your hand so he could open the closet. 

“Of course you did.” You sighed. 

He pulled out an outfit in a costume bag and turned it to face you. Inside was sheathed all the makings of a witches costume. 

A long, flowy purple crushed velvet dress with long, billowy sleeves. A black wig. A pointy hat. 

You rolled your eyes as you took it from him, trying to ignore the stupid look on his face. 

“Fine, I will wear it. But you are not painting my face.” 

“Deal.” He grinned, in a smug way knowing he’d won.

***

Ten minutes later the three of you were out the door. Dracula, the witch and the pumpkin. 

Wren was full of excitement as she skipped on just ahead of you, swinging her little bucket she hoped to fill with candy. 

“She’s your problem when she won’t sleep tonight because she’s hopped up on sugar.” You spoke as Spencer slipped his hand in yours. 

“Fair enough.” He chuckled, eyes never leaving the back of the curly haired pumpkin. “Thank you for coming.”

“Did I have a choice?” You joked. 

Spencer briefly glanced at the side of your face before focusing back on Wren who was now making her way up a front porch of one of your neighbours houses. The two of you hung back by the gate. 

“You don’t like spending time with her.” He looked back at you while Wren was busy getting her candy. 

“That’s not true. I love spending time with her, she’s an amazing kid. But I don’t want her to get used to me being around all the time. She lost her mom and dad, I don’t want her to see me as a parental figure only to lose me too.” 

Spencer’s hand slipped from yours and he quickly pocketed both of his hands. You frowned at him as he turned away from you. 

“Right. Of course.” He watched Wren smile and thank Mrs Taylor for the candy. 

“What? What’s that supposed to mean?” You glared at him.

“Nothing. I just forget sometimes what a hardship this is for you.” 

“Spencer, I never said-”

“What did you get, pumpkin?” He cut you off as Wren came running back over, his tone lightening as he regarded her. 

Wren showed off her haul and soon you were continuing on. Spencer walked with Wren now, holding her free hand while you hung back. 

It shouldn’t come as a surprise that this would get complicated. But why did it? 

***

The night ended worse than it started. When your rounds of the neighbourhood took you past the old Briar house, the home where Wren watched her parents die, it came to an abrupt end with tears. 

Spencer carried her home while she sobbed in his arms. He put her to bed and spent a long time coddling her while she cried for her parents. 

He found you in the living room, your wig and hat on the coffee table. You stood from the couch when he entered the room. 

“I don’t really feel like company tonight so maybe you should just stay in the guest room.” His jaw was clenched tightly as he spoke. 

“Right, sure.” You nodded. 

He turned away from you, started towards the stairs before quickly turned back around.

“You know what actually, maybe you should look into moving back into your apartment. This place is kinda crowded. You only need to be here when Jenny visits anyway, there’s no point in you being here all the time. And that way Wren won’t get attached to you and it’ll make it easier all round.” He turned again but before he could get too far you grabbed him by the wrist. 

“Spencer, please don’t say that. We talked about this, we had a plan, we-”

“Stop it, please.” He cut you off. “I can’t do this right now, ok? I have a little girl upstairs who I had to rock to sleep because she couldn’t stop crying about her dead parents. I don’t have the mental capacity to deal with all this right now.” 

“Fine.” You clenched your jaw to stop the tears falling. “But let me just say it isn’t fair for you to act this way when we had an agreement. You knew what my involvement was going to be in all of this and the plan was never for me to be her mother!” 

“The plan?” He suddenly spat. “The goddamn plan? You make it sound so clinical!”

“I thought it was.” You rolled your eyes. “Did you expect that I was going to wake up one day and change my mind? Was that what you hoped for here? That I’d play happy families and realise this is what I wanted?”

“Yes,” he shrugged. “Yes, that's exactly what I hoped would happen. Excuse me for believing that two people who are as in love as I thought we were could raise a child together.” 

“Maybe I should move out.” 

“Good.”

“Great.” 

“I’ll help you pack.” With that he turned again and this time you let him go. 

You watched as he ascended the staircase, clearly wanting to make more noise about it but not wanting to wake Wren. 

Once you heard his bedroom door shut you fell back to the couch and your tears unleashed. 

What had possessed you into thinking this would be a good idea? You’d wanted to help Spencer and never once stopped to think of the ramifications. 

Like it or not you and Wren had grown close, despite your best efforts. Your leaving would be hard on her. And it would be hard on you too.

You’d come to care for that little girl even though you’d tried so hard not to. You weren’t ready to be a mom, or so you thought, but Wren had wormed her way into your heart. 

And now you were going to lose her and Spencer through your own stubbornness. 

Well done, Y/N, you thought to yourself as you cried. You’ve really gone and fucked this up. 

***

The following day Spencer dropped Wren off at school, thankfully in a much brighter mood than she had been the previous night. 

You both had the day off work for Jenny’s weekly visit and if she noticed the awkwardness between the two of you she didn’t mention it. 

Spencer was amazing at keeping his emotions in check when he needed to and even you believed he was happy. 

You sat amicably and drank tea while Spencer filled the social worker in on your Halloween night, glossing over all the bad parts. 

It struck you that Jenny wasn’t taking notes like usual, didn’t even have her notebook out. You weren’t sure if Spencer noticed or not or if he was too busy pretending he had the perfect family to notice. 

When the tea dried up along with the conversation, Jenny pulled a manilla envelope out of her briefcase and proffered it forward. 

Spencer took it with a frown, in the corner in black ink it read simply: Re: Wren Briar - Reid Y/L/N.

“Uh,” he ran his fingers over the envelope and looked up at Jenny with a frown. “What is this?” 

Jenny smiled softly, a smile that reached all the way to her eyes. 

“Congratulations,” she spoke sincerely. “That is your official adoption papers. Wren is now formally in the care of the two of you.” 

You felt a flurry of emotions all at once and you didn’t know which one to focus on. But you were distracted from that when Spencer, out of nowhere, started sobbing. 

“S-seriously?” He stuttered, tears streaming from his eyes. 

“Seriously, Doctor Reid.” Jenny smiled. “I know it’s been a long and difficult process, but it’s over now.”

“Oh my god.” He grabbed your hand and squeezed it tightly. “Oh my god.” 

Seeing the happiness on Spencer’s face made your own tears fall and you gripped him tightly. 

“We did it, Spence. We did it.” You cried. 

Jenny saw herself out as the two of you continued to cry. At some point Spencer wrapped you in his arms and sobbed into your shoulder while you did the same into his chest. 

Eventually both your tears started letting up and he sat back and wiped the stains on your cheek. He was smiling shakily at you and you returned the gesture. 

“Don’t leave.” He whispered, voice cracking with emotion. “Please don’t leave. I don’t want to do this without you. I know this wasn’t part of the plan but-”

“Screw the plan.” You cut him off. “Plans change. I can’t ignore the feeling of elation and relief I felt when Jenny told us. Goddamnit I love Wren, I love her so much. And I want to be her mother, Spencer, I really want that.” 

“You…” he choked. “You do?”

“Yes. This wasn’t the life I envisioned for myself but life isn’t straightforward. Things happen, plans change. I found my family. And it’s you and Wren.” You smiled as your tears started up again.

Spencer was quick to tug you back into his arms and hold you tighter than you’d ever been held before. He nuzzled against your neck and placed soft kisses on your flesh. 

“I love you so much.” He cried. “And I love our little found family.” 

You stayed like this for some time, until you needed to pick Wren up from school. For the first time you and Spencer went together. 

When you told her the news she jumped up and down and squeezed you both as tightly as her little arms would allow and it filled your heart to the brim. 

There was no doubt in your mind that this was where you were supposed to be. 

As she planted big sloppy kisses on yours and Spencer’s cheeks, you heard him whisper, welcome to the family little pumpkin. 

***

Four Months Later

The noise from the backyard filtered in through the open door, little voices chattering, the occasional screech of excitement, giggle from tiny lungs and small feet pitter pattering in the grass. 

You poured yourself a glass of water and sipped from it while you observed the chaos. 

It was Wren’s sixth birthday and damn near every child in her school had descended on your home. The BAU team members and their kids were all in attendance and you wondered if your garden would ever be the same again. 

There was a bounce house in one corner, a magician in the other - for which Spencer had begrudged paying for when he could have done it himself. 

You’d insisted he wanted to be more present for the event, really enjoy the memories made today on her first birthday as your daughter. 

Rover had long ago distanced himself from children pulling his matted fur and retired to his bed in Wren’s room. You couldn’t blame him, you’d half contemplated joining him. 

You were exhausted from all the planning, from the demands of motherhood and still trying to hold down your job at the BAU, albeit only part time now. 

You hadn’t even stopped to consider how tiring the party would actually be. 

You felt a presence behind you and spun on your heels to find Spencer smiling at you as he sidled up to you. He moved in close and placed a chaste kiss on your lips.

“Are you as tired as I am?” He chuckled. 

“I don’t think anyone is as tired as you, you’re the life and soul of this party.” You teased him. “I saw Wren dragging you on to the bounce house.” 

“It’s been a long time since my old knee injury hurt this bad.” He grumbled a little. “But it’s worth it to see her happy.” 

“I can’t believe she’s six already. The months are flying by.” You sighed wistfully. 

“She’ll be eighteen and going off to college any day now.” He laughed.

“Bringing boys home.”

“Don’t you dare!” He gasped. “Do not put that idea in my head.”

“Sorry,” you smiled sweetly. “It’s a long way off.” 

“It better be.” He shook his head. 

“So, uh…I got you something.” You reached behind you and grabbed the small, neatly wrapped gift off of the kitchen counter. 

Spencer frowned at it as he took it somewhat cautiously. 

“You got me a gift? For our daughter's birthday?” He ran his fingertips over the wrapping paper curiously. 

“Just open it and be grateful.” You rolled your eyes playfully. 

Still with a frown on his face, Spencer tore the gift wrap, the same kind as you used to wrap the obscene amount of gifts you’d brought Wren. 

You held your breath and waited, your nerves getting the better of you and you leaned back against the counter top as your legs shook a little. 

Spencer’s deft fingers made quick work of the paper, tossing it aside like the excited six year old had with her own gifts. 

Once opened he stared at the item in his hand. Approximately five inches long. Thin. Hard plastic. 

You watched him stare at it as if it was a completely foreign object, patiently waiting for him to look up, to say something. 

His hands started to tremble and when he finally did look up at you, tears swam in his eyes. 

“Is this…for real?” His voice cracked with emotion as he spoke. 

“It’s like the fifth one I took so I’m fairly certain.” You nodded, feeling your own eyes fill with tears. “Wren’s going to be a big sister.” 

Pregnancy test still in hand, he suddenly threw his arms around you and squeezed you so tightly you felt the air leave your lungs. 

“We’re having another child?” He whispered against your neck.

“This family just keeps growing.” You laughed as you wrapped him in your arms. 

You wiped away your tears, not wanting to be seen crying at Wren’s birthday party. But soon your moment was over, and you were being forced away from each other. 

“Mommy, daddy, is it time for cake?” Wren’s voice carried in from the garden.

You sprung apart and stared at each other, a new batch of tears in both of your eyes for completely different reasons. 

“Did she just…” you breathed, voice slightly horse.

“I think so.” Spencer sniffed, a delighted smile on his face. 

Thus far Wren had always called you both by your names which was entirely understandable. Spencer had always told her she could call you mom and dad if and when she felt it was right. 

“As if this day wasn’t perfect enough.” He wiped his eyes, pocketing the pregnancy test after giving it one last look. 

“We better go, daddy.” You winked at him and went to pass him but he grabbed you by the waist. 

“Oh jeez, why is that so hot when you say it?” He growled, bowing his head and placing kisses on your neck, making you giggle. 

“Really?” You smirked. 

“Really.” He hissed, stepping back and nodding to his crotch where you can instantly see the bulge forming in his slacks. 

“Hmm, I’ll bear that in mind daddy.” You chuckled and he let out a soft low moan.

But before he could reply, you were summoned again. 

“Mommy, daddy!” Wren hollered from the yard. 

“Ok, not so sexy anymore.” He shook his head, stepping further back. “I’ll get the cake.”

“I’ll get my phone so I can film you and your horrible singing.” You gently kissed his cheek before he walked away. 

Spencer lit the six candles on the pumpkin shaped birthday cake and cautiously carried it through to the yard while he began singing happy birthday. 

All the kids and adults joined in as Wren beamed from ear to ear as all eyes were on her. You held your cellphone steady, hovering by the back door where you filmed the chorus.

When the song was over everybody cheered and Wren sucked in a huge breath before blowing out the candles. 

You watched on as Spencer placed a kiss in her messy dark hair and she smiled brightly at her dad in return. 

You couldn’t take your eyes off the two of them, Wren bouncing excitedly in her chair while Spencer went about cutting the cake into slices for all the children. 

Spencer handed her the first slice and she gorged on it, stuffing the cake in her mouth and leaving icing smudged around her lips.

It was crazy how much things had changed in such a short space of time. Six months ago you never would have pictured yourself here, a mother to a six year old and growing another child inside of you. 

Life has a funny way of giving us exactly what we want at exactly the wrong time. But for you and Spencer and Wren, the world had worked its magic and done you all the biggest favour. 

It had given the three of you the kind of love you all so sorely needed, it had offered a home to three people who were out in the cold. It had created a family, who in eight months time would have a new addition to it. 

Ultimately all we really strive for in life is to find somewhere to belong, and although it may have been unexpected, it was safe to say that you, Spencer and Wren had found that somewhere with each other. 

@ultragirrl @wittlewowa @bxtchopolis @coldheartedmar

[ellephlox]

Concordant

This is a sequel to Discordant — you don't need to have read that oneshot to understand this one, but I'd highly recommend starting there!

In case you do decide to skip Discordant, a short summary is that Reader got in a dangerous situation trying to help out Matt, and so Matt's really angry about it. This is essentially the fallout from that argument.

Pairing: Matt x fem!reader

Summary: You and Matt are going through a rough patch. Karen and Foggy devise a plan to help out by kidnapping you and Matt to force you to speak to one another encouraging communication and quality time together.

Warnings: mention of a mass shooting, profanity, angst

A/N: I had absolutely no plans to make a part 2 but enough people asked so here we are!!

There was a shooting in Hell's Kitchen. Four dead, eight injured. Shots were fired just after one in the morning at a bar by a white man in his fifties or sixties, according to witnesses. While it was devastating, people claimed it would have been much worse, had the Devil not shown up and knocked out the shooter within thirty seconds, who was now in police custody and awaiting his trial.

Usually, you would have heard a story like this directly from Matt. He would have told you what he'd heard, and how he went into the fight; he would have described whether or not the shooter could actually throw a punch and maybe how he almost botched the whole thing by nearly twisting his ankle on a bit of spilled mac 'n' cheese on the floor. Then he would have assured you that either way you had nothing to worry about, and that yes, of course, he was always careful.

Not this time.

This time, you heard the story on the news while you were getting dressed for work. Hearing Matt's epithet spoken so reverently by the newscaster made your spine prickle with a mixture of anger and hurt, so you muted the television in spite, only to unmute it a few seconds later from raw curiosity.

It had been a week since you'd fought with him. After you had showered and gotten the blood off of yourself, you went back to your apartment, and said not another word to Matt. Something deep inside you thought that he would reach out first, so you kept your window unlocked at night, thinking that a certain horned figure would slip inside and join you under the covers, whispering an apology and wrapping his arms tightly around you.

But no one showed up, and each night you brushed your teeth, alone; climbed under the covers, alone; read under your lamp when you couldn't sleep, alone.

Several times (more like sixteen times — but who was counting?) you picked up the phone and typed in his number, but never dialed. You had only tried to help him, and the fact that he refused to acknowledge your good intentions stung so badly that it kept you from extending an olive branch.

So when your phone rang that morning, you jumped to it; it wasn't as though you had a ton of people that were calling you on a day-to-day basis. It was Foggy, though, and you tried to hide your disappointment with a cheerful greeting.

"You're bright-eyed and bushy-tailed," he said. "You have a day off or something?"

"Ha. I wish. I'm on my way into work right now," you said as you locked your door. "What's up?"

"I wanted to talk to you about Matt, actually," Foggy said. You froze, mouth going dry, but fortunately he continued talking. "He's not here right now. Obviously. Or else I wouldn't be talking about this with you. And I just called him; he said he's just gotten out of the shower, so I've got a safe fifteen minutes at least before he's in the nefarious earshot zone. Which, as you and I both know, is very ambiguous when it comes to our bat-like friend."

"Uh, yeah." You emerged onto the street, blinking in the sunlight. "So you know I'm not with him right now, then."

"Yeah, Matt said that you had something to do at your apartment last night, and that you wouldn't be staying with him."

Ah. So Foggy didn't know that you were in a fight with Matt. You tried to act casual. "Yeah, I didn't see him last night. Word on the news is that he took down that active shooter."

"Oh, don't worry, I've already drilled him on the phone. Demanded to know whether he has any extra holes on him currently."

"That's a creepy way of putting it, Foggy."

"His answer was no," Foggy said blithely. "Anyway, I wanted to know if you knew what was going on with him."

You bit your lip, unsure of how to answer; it was too vague of a prompt to respond to. "Well, what have you noticed?" you asked carefully.

He snorted. "Pretty much everything that exists in the Moody Matt Murdock Archive. There's a never-ending mug of coffee on his desk, he's got extra bruises on his face, and he's so far behind in paperwork that I'm working overtime to cover his ass."

You felt a flare of annoyance on Foggy's behalf. "You don't have to do that. Let him reap the consequences."

"Nah. We're on the same ship, y'know? And if I've got to be the one keeping Nelson and Murdock afloat for awhile, it wouldn't be the first time."

"That's not fair to you."

But Foggy plowed on, unperturbed. "And my guess is that he hasn't been to confession in awhile. Did he go last Sunday?"

Crap. You had absolutely no idea, considering you hadn't seen Matt in days. "You know, I actually was thinking," you stalled, "about how — oh, shit!"

"What?"

"I'm running late!" you said, guilt shooting through you at the half-lie. While it wasn't untrue, it was also a terrible excuse. Poor Foggy didn't deserve either of you. "So sorry, Foggy, I've got to split. I'll call you later?"

"No problem-o," he said, and you gratefully ended the call, having no intention to call him back later with the threat of him questioning you again. Not that there was anything inherently wrong with him knowing that you were in a fight with Matt, but knowing him, he'd try to solve it, and the last thing you wanted was a counseling session led by Foggy.

That, however, was far from the worst encounter of your day.

Because of course in a city like New York, where the total population literally exceeded eight million, you'd run into the one person you didn't want to see, in the line of a local café, of all places. Not to mention it was a café you thought he'd never go to, seeing as you'd never been there with him before and only occasionally went on days like today when you needed a tomato and pesto panini to cheer you up.

At first, you didn't see him when you entered, because you were toggling with your phone to shut off your music and take out your earbuds. Only when you joined the line at the counter and looked up did you instantly recognize the man directly in front of you.

This has to be a cosmic joke. That was all you could think, as you stared numbly from the collar of his button-down to the heels of his shoes. He had obviously noticed you were there; his shoulders were tense, and from the death grip with which he held his cane, you might've thought he was going to turn around and whack you in the head with it.

You almost turned around and walked right out of the store, but defiance kept you rooted to your place. You stayed still, arms crossed, while Matt ordered a Greek salad. When it was your turn to order, he was still standing by the counter, waiting for his takeout to get packaged up.

"Could I have the tomato and pesto panini, please?" you asked the cashier, tapping your foot anxiously as Matt's presence seared on your right. "And also a water?"

"Sure thing. For here or to-go?"

"To-go, please."

"Y/N," Matt said finally, once you finished ordering and there was nothing else to do but face him. There wasn't a hint of a smile on his lips. "I didn't realize you were here."

"Don't worry about it," you told him. "I'm used to you not understanding anything when it comes to where I choose to be." You made your point all too obvious to Matt, whose lips pursed at the end of your sentence. One of the customers next to you gave you a funny look, as though to say, Are you insulting him because he's blind? Embarrassed, you stepped a bit closer to Matt so you could lower your voice. "And you need to get your shit together. Foggy's covering for you. Again. He doesn't deserve that. Just because you're brooding or whatever isn't an excuse to—"

"You're in no place to criticize," he said in a low voice. Without warning his hand shot out and gripped your shoulder with an iron-like strength, steering you to the hall leading to the bathrooms where it was quieter. You pressed yourself against the wall, still crossing your arms over yourself and ignoring the anxious guilt stirring in your chest.

Nope, nope, nope, you cannot be the one to apologize, he's got to do it first, do not apologize, no matter what—

"Foggy's my friend, too, and I have a right to tell you that you should treat him better," you said instead, panic flaring through you at the boldness of your own words. Dammit, stay calm, heartbeat, don't give me away.

Matt's voice was steely. "You've got nerve to say that to me, after everything that's happened."

Your mouth flopped open. "Are you serious? I've got nerve to say that you should treat your best friend better?"

"Did you ever stop to think that I might be spending my time actually helping people? That maybe things have been worse lately and I've been trying to do something about it? Saving this city, making sure that people like you get home safely? That you still get home safely?"

"I didn't ask for that."

"Well, neither did I," he shot back. "Now you know what it's like."

"I don't understand why you're mad at me," you said, frustrated. "I only tried to help. That was all, Matt."

He laughed derisively. "The fact that we've gone over this a few times now and you still can't see what's wrong about it is amazing, Y/N. Yeah, at first I was mad at how reckless your decision was, not to mention that you didn't come in with one single weapon on you. I've gotten over that. Now I'm just pissed that you can't see my side of things. You can't even entertain the thought for one second that I might be right. If you could just acknowledge that you were wrong—"

"That's a lofty ask coming from the same man who hasn't acknowledged my view, either."

"Then maybe we're at an impasse." Matt's eyes were trained on your ear; you could barely see them behind the lenses of the glasses. "Unless you can promise me that you'd never do something like that again."

"That's the dumbest condition I've ever heard," you snarled. "Don't be ridiculous."

Matt's hand abruptly left your shoulder, leaving it cold. "Then that's it. See, this is why I should never have let you know who I am, what I do. Mistakes happen and people get hurt."

"They do," you agreed. "They can get hurt in more ways than one, Matt. Physical pain isn't the only type of pain."

"I won't keep making that mistake, then," Matt said coolly. "And you won't have to worry about me hurting you ever again."

"Greek salad!" one of the workers yelled, and without further ado Matt's hand left your shoulder, leaving a cold spot there. You stared at the beige wall for another minute, and only left robotically once your own sandwich had been made.

Did we break up? The question plagued you all night. You stared at your ceiling, unable to feel even slightly sleepy. It was like a gnawing black hole inside you, and the more you thought about it the more you wanted to cry. Or scream. Maybe both. How had it all gone so wrong?

Crying eventually won out, and you crammed your face into your pillow as tears, unbidden, came out. It pissed you off at the same time, because you had a terrible feeling that Matt probably hadn't shed one tear over it.

He was excited for a chance to break up. You didn't want to believe it, but it seemed too rational to ignore. He'd been all too quick to jump at the chance to be alone again, hadn't he? He'd decided he didn't want to date anymore; it was apparently a failed experiment in allowing someone into both his lives as Matt Murdock and as Daredevil. You couldn't be enough to live in both of those lives with him, and so he had to cut you off. It made sense. Miserably you finally turned your light on and began to read, wondering distantly whether Matt was anywhere near you and if you had even crossed his mind that night.

Somehow you must have fallen asleep at some point, because suddenly your alarm was chiming loudly and light was streaming into your eyes. Groggily you pulled back your blankets and got dressed, showered and made breakfast, and only then did you check your phone.

A message from Karen was there. Slightly bewildered, you unlocked your phone.

Hey, Y/N! Was thinking of taking a drive upstate today. Spur of the moment thing. Want to join?

It was like a blessing; here was Karen, with a distraction ready to go that would get you out of your apartment and, more importantly, Hell's Kitchen. Without hesitation you agreed and she texted back almost immediately to tell you that she'd pick you up in an hour.

"Where are we headed?" you asked once you got into the passenger seat, grinning at her. She had put her hair in a ponytail and already had the music playing. This is exactly what I need. Now you almost hoped Matt would show up at your apartment today, because it gave you immense satisfaction to picture him taking the time to go see you and make amends, only for your apartment to be empty.

"It's a surprise," was all she said, giving you a mysterious smile. "I will say that it's a place meant for rejuvenation and open air."

Rejuvenation and open air. A spa day, maybe? You hoped so.

The drive ended up taking almost six hours. It was far longer than you were expecting and your legs were cramped by the time Karen finally announced that the destination was only five minutes away. The so-called "destination", however, was a bit concerning, because all you'd seen in the past thirty minutes was farmland, trees, and dilapidated signs for MALONE, NY.

"We're here," Karen announced, pulling the car into the lot beside an austere building.

"Uh — if you don't mind me asking," you said, starting to feel slightly concerned, "Where exactly is here?"

"Take a look," she said brightly.

You squinted at the letters sculpted above the doors. "Franklin County Courthouse? We should send a picture to Foggy. He'd find that hilarious."

"We won't have to send a picture, actually." Karen's lips were tight as though she were trying to resist smiling and you suddenly felt uneasy. "Foggy's pulling in, right now."

"What's going on?" you asked suspiciously, but a moment later, your question was answered.

Foggy parked right next to Karen, and right there, sitting sullenly in the passenger seat, was Matt, still dressed in a tee shirt and sweats that had a few old bloodstains on them.

"What the hell?" you hissed, launching yourself back against the seat as though Matt could see you. "Why is he here?"

Karen didn't bat an eye. "You and Matt are being stupid. Foggy and I agreed that you, Y/N, are the best thing that's ever happened to Matt Murdock and we're not going to let you two drift apart over a dumb miscommunication."

"It's not a miscommunication," you argued. "It's him being pig-headed and thinking that he can just—"

"You two both love each other, and that's why you're fighting," Karen interrupted. "So, this is our therapy that we devised."

You stared, agape. "What is?"

Foggy opened up your passenger side door, a wide smile on his face. "Hate to evict you, Y/N, but you've got to get out."

"Excuse me?"

"We're swapping," he said cheerfully. "And you're going to drive back to New York City with Matt."

"I'm — what? No, I'm not!"

"This isn't happening, Foggy." Matt had gotten out of the car and was closing the door. His glasses glinted in the sunlight, sending blinding beams of light bouncing at you. "This is between Y/N and me. Not you and Karen."

"Try and stop us, then," Foggy said, climbing into the car.

Matt was glowering. "I will. I'm warning you, Foggy. If it comes to force, then—"

But Karen only laughed. "Foggy said you'd act all threatening, Matt. It's kind of cute that you think it's going to stop us."

"I did say that!" Foggy was practically aglow. "I told Karen that you'd threaten to go all Daredevil on us, but that's why we picked this venue. See?" He pointed at the courthouse, where there were several security cameras. "Sorry, man. I wouldn't recommend fighting us while on tape or you'll compromise your identity."

Matt's fists were clenched so tightly that even you began to feel a bit nervous.

"How did you even know?" you asked, turning to Foggy. "When I talked to you on the phone, I didn't say anything. And I'm guessing Mr. Cold Shoulder over there didn't confess his feelings to you."

Foggy looked at you, eyebrows raised. "Seriously, Y/N? I knew the moment Matt was moody and you were at your own apartment. You underestimate the sensitivity of my best-friends-are-squabbling-radar."

"This is a waste of time," Matt said. "We're in an argument, and it has nothing to do with you two. So let me ride back with you, Foggy, and Y/N can stay with Karen until she's ready to actually behave like an adult and talk to me—"

"Are you kidding me?" you said, incredulous. "You're the one making this so difficult! And by the way, this is feeling very much like kidnapping — Karen, you sort of lied to me–"

"We never lied. We just didn't specify the truth," she countered. "It's for your own good."

"Here." Foggy tossed the keys to his car at you. "You and Matt enjoy your next six hours together."

"Foggy—"

"Bye!" He slammed his passenger door, and Karen stepped on the gas so hard that you were left in a cloud of dust, coughing as you breathed it in.

Once they were gone, it was the worst silence imaginable that was left. Matt still stood, stiff as a board, beside the car. Not doing it. Not even going to try talking to him. Resolutely you turned on your heel and began to march out of the lot, keeping your chin high.

"Where are you going?" Matt demanded from behind you.

"Home."

"You planning on walking?"

"No."

"Then—"

"There are other methods of transportation, Matthew. I'm going to find a bus. Or a taxi. Or I'll hitchhike. Anything, really, to avoid spending any time in a car with you."

"So you're going to just leave Foggy's car here?"

You halted in your tracks. That was a caveat that you hadn't foreseen. Matt certainly couldn't drive Foggy's car back to Hell's Kitchen. "He deserves it for leaving us here," you said, fighting to keep the uncertainty out of your voice.

To your irritation, Matt snorted. "You're lying."

"Shut up. I'm going to hitchhike."

"Again, you're lying."

"Fine." You stomped back over and jangled the keys. "I'm driving back in Foggy's car, but you're going to have to find some other way to get back because I don't want you in here with me."

"You think I'm thrilled about spending the rest of my Saturday with you, Y/N?" Matt's voice was biting. "But look around you. We're in a small town, upstate New York. The public transportation here is nonexistent."

"Tough."

"Y/N, I don't like this either, but you're going to have to suck it up and drive us back."

"Don't tell me what to do," you snapped. You jangled the keys again. "You're forgetting who has the keys here. I'm in control."

Quicker than the blink of an eye, Matt swung you around, wrapping the crook of his left arm around your neck, and swiping your wallet from your pocket with his right hand. He was warm; you could smell his shampoo just from being pressed, back-to, against his chest. As much as you were pissed at him, your body tingled at the physical touch, and goosebumps rose up your arms before he released you almost as quickly, holding your wallet up as though it were a prize. "Don't be so sure," he said, the corners of his lips lifting up.

You lunged at him, but he easily swapped the wallet to his other hand. "Give me my wallet back!"

"Not until you drive us back."

"What if the security cameras—"

"Foggy and Karen were bluffing. I guarantee there's no one looking over the footage right now."

You cursed under your breath. There was no way you'd be able to get your wallet back from Matt, and without it, you had no money on you. "Fine! Fine. Get in the car, Matthew."

Without a word he climbed in, and you got into the driver's seat.

The first two and a half hours, while horribly uncomfortable, at least didn't involve any talking. You were more than happy to realize that Matt, true to his declaration that he had no interest in riding with you, had no intentions to speak.

And then you had to pee.

You pulled into the first gas station that you drove by and parked by the front. "I need to use the restroom," you said shortly to Matt. "And I'm getting a water."

He didn't answer.

"Do you need anything?" you continued, forcing out the words. "Aside from the ability to empathize?"

Matt's head tilted towards you. "If I needed anything, I'd get it myself."

"Right. You get mad at anyone who tries to help you."

"Quit playing offense and hurry up, Y/N. This is the last way that I wanted to spend my day."

You barely resisted giving him the finger as you slammed the car door and went into the gas station. The cashier handed you a key for a bathroom outside the building, so you went back out and wrapped around to the back of the gas station where there was a rusting metal door labeled TOILET.

The lock took nearly a full thirty seconds to twist, it was so rusted. Only after locking it did you realize it was pointless anyway; there was no one out here for miles and probably the only other roadtrippers along this highway — Foggy and Karen — were ahead of you.

After being careful to not touch the toilet seat and then flushed with the toe of your shoe, you washed up, trying to flatten your hair and examining the dark circles under your eyes.

And then you tried to open the lock. It was so rusted that it took a few moments for it to even budge, and then, with a dusty snap, the lever broke right off and fell on the floor, leaving the door still locked.

For a moment, you just stared mutely at the broken lock. This is the nice, big cherry on top of today. Then you tried the door; it was still most definitely locked, and now there was no way to unlock it.

"Shit, shit, shit, shit," you muttered, prodding at the broken part with your finger. Stuck in a gas station bathroom, of course that's what had to happen to you. You wished you'd purchased a water before using the restroom because the prospect of not having water was suddenly making your throat parched.

The cashier, you remembered, had earbuds in, so hollering at him through the wall probably wasn't going to get you anywhere. Still, you rapped loudly on the side of the bathroom wall — hurting your knuckles on it in the process; it was made of cement — and shouted that the lock had broken.

It was to no avail. The cashier didn't show up to help.

What was worse was knowing that Matt could probably "see" everything with his damn echolocation. You didn't doubt that he knew exactly what was happening, from the way you were currently trying to pick at the lock with your bobby pin to the way that your heart was indubitably racing.

And that asshole hasn't bothered coming out to help me. You gritted your teeth and glanced at the tiny awning window in the top left corner of the bathroom, above the toilet.

Well, it would have to do.

You climbed on top of the toilet and reached upwards to unlock the window. It was easy enough to reach, despite the tall ceilings of the gas station, though hoisting yourself through there would be a different question. It wasn't like you spent your nights doing gymnastic feats all around Hell's Kitchen like someone else that you knew.

Who was currently still minding his own business, sitting in the car.

You finally knocked out the screen on the window and struggled to lift yourself up enough that your head could poke through. It was a tight fit, but you could make it.

Now, the only issue was actually getting down safely. You realized, looking down at the pavement below, that it was much higher than you realized. It wasn't as though you had taken any stairs to get into the bathroom, but coming out of a window head-first was a much different story than if you could have gotten out feet-first.

Resolutely you pulled your phone out of your pocket and dialed Matt's number.

"Hello?" he said, picking up on the seventh ring.

"You took your damn time answering."

"What do you want?"

"What do you think, Matt? I'm sure you're enjoying this little spectacle of myself that I'm making right now in the world-on-fire."

"Actually, believe it or not, I'm trying to ignore you as much as I can."

You took a deep breath. "I need your help."

"I figured."

You waited. There was only silence. Damn you, Matt. "I mean... can you please help me?"

There was the background noise of the car door opening. "If it gets us home quicker."

It was even more humiliating than you could have predicted when Matt came around the corner of the gas station, tapping his white cane along the pavement until he was no longer within the view of the parking lot or the windows of the building. You wriggled through the window a bit more, so that now your entire top half was practically dangling out of the window, and waited for Matt to line himself up below you.

Only then did you realize he was smirking.

"Are you laughing?" you demanded.

Matt's smile flattened out. "No."

"You were!"

"Maybe. Cut me some slack. You're having to evacuate a gas station bathroom through a narrow window."

"Well, catch me," you said, petulant. "Okay?"

"Ready."

"You're sure? You won't drop me?"

"As tempting as it sounds, no."

You released your grip on the window and dropped out, and true to his word, Matt grabbed you before you could faceplant into the pavement, helping you get upright and brushing some of the dust off of your shoulder.

You would have simply walked away, and gone back into the gas station — because you couldn't allow yourself to get comfortable in his grip, not when he didn't want to touch you, not when you were in a fight, and especially not when you weren't sure you meant anything to him anymore — but he didn't let go.

"Y/N," Matt said, so quietly that your heart flip-flopped. "Y/N, I love you. I love you more than anything and it kills me to not be with you every day."

That was all you needed. You opened your mouth, to respond I love you, too, but he jammed his mouth against yours, kissing you so passionately that you made a small sound of surprise. His hands lowered to your waist and he lifted you up; you wrapped your legs around him tightly and soaked in everything about him — the way his hair felt on your forehead, the press of his chest against your body, the strength of his hands on your back.

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry," you whispered, sliding back down him and landing on the pavement. "I shouldn't have put you through what I did. I would've been pissed too if I were in your position."

"Are you kidding me? You're the bravest girl I've ever met. No one else would have come for me like you did. And I should have respected that. Instead I made you feel like shit about it." Matt's hand traced your jaw. "Can you forgive me?"

"I already have," you admitted.

"I'm so sorry, Y/N."

"I know," you said, and then you laughed shakily. "I guess we'll have to award Karen and Foggy certificates in therapy, then?"

"They'll never let us live it down," he confirmed, and his smile, that look of contentedness and the way that he kept his hand on you at all times as though afraid to lose you, was what told you that everything would be alright.

After all, it was Matt.

[asshlyyyy]

Absolute Silence Pt. 1

Part 2

This was supposed to be just one part, but I wanted to do so much and I didn't want to make anything too too long! This post takes course over the period of two years. It will be noticeable by the dividers between takes.

There are not many stories/fics out there appointmented to those with disabilities. I certainly haven't read one yet for deaf/ hard of hearing people. I hope I didn't offend anyone by writing this. I did do some research, but it may not all be correct. If you spot something that's wrong don't hesitate to reach out to me!

Masterlist

Pairing: Austin Butler x Deaf!Fem!Reader

Warnings: Some Information may be incorrect, Swearing, Spelling and Grammatical Errors. Let me Know if I MIssed Anything!

Word Count: 2.8k

For your entire life things have always been rough. From trying to get a normal education to trying to work around adulthood. You saw and heard the world differently compared to others. It’s how it’s been since the beginning of your life. You learned to live a certain life and… well it wasn’t that much of a disappointment. 

You were treated differently, and you always were. That never meant that it was okay or that you were okay with it. You generally just wanted to be treated like everyone else. Yet… you couldn’t. Because normal people were able to hear and you couldn’t. You had to learn early on that… that was how life was. 

Was it hard? Absolutely. There was no doubt in your mind that it wouldn’t be. You learned sign language very young. When others would learn to talk, you learned to sign. Yet, you still knew how to talk. You probably sounded terrible, but you knew how to if needed. It didn’t matter much because you couldn’t hear yourself. 

You opted to not use your voice often. It only came out when you saw people get physically upset with you, and when you were getting someone's attention. Your parents taught you how to speak. They told you that it was important how to use your voice in case you were in danger. You could yell for help.

Sure you and your family looked over possible options for hearing. Yet, they were all out of your parent's range of money. Even with insurance, there was no way your family could afford to get you a cochlear implant. You guys were not rich, in fact, you wouldn’t even consider you guys to be middle-class statues. They never shared the price with you, but upon looking it up yourself… let’s just say that… the price of a cochlear implant was like buying a car at full price. 

Sure, there was the option of hearing aids… but you were deaf from the moment you came out of the womb. Hearing aids were for those who were hard of hearing… not deaf. That still didn’t stop your parents from trying though. They felt at fault that you were this way, but there was nothing they could have done.

You were currently sitting at a small coffee shop. It was only a few steps from your apartment. In fact, it was right across the street. It was honestly very convenient, and since you come in so often they know how to work with you. You sat at a table with your pink iPad in front of you and a coffee next to your side. You were currently working on a design for your fashion class. Early on in childhood, you knew you wouldn’t be able to hold a normal job. So, you searched for jobs that wouldn’t require… hearing, or even communication. 

As you picked up your coffee and looked in front of you, you nearly felt yourself jump out of your seat. There in front of you stood a guy, a complete stranger in fact. He was tall, quite tall in fact. He had dirty blonde hair and bright blue eyes. He fits into that surfer boy aesthetic from California. You haven’t met very many people with blue eyes but… they were truly memorizing. How long has he even been standing there?

“Can I sit?” His lips moved but you heard nothing. Of course, over the years you had pretty much mastered the art of lip-reading. So, you easily knew what he had said. You were also the same person who wanted to be left alone most of the time. 

You brought your hand up to sign that you were deaf. Of course, he wouldn’t understand what you meant, but he would have at least gotten the gist of it. No one ever really dared to learn your language. You truly knew how natives felt when people visited their country and didn’t bother to learn their language. 

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t realize.” Your eyes widened at his quick hand movements. “I was just wondering if I could sit here. I’ll be gone before you know it.”

You nodded your head quickly as an answer and watched as he pulled out the chair. Who was this man and why did he know sign language? Not that you were complaining, you were just… confused. No one ever put effort into learning sign language unless someone they knew were deaf. Hell, some people wouldn’t even bother to put that much effort into doing that. You smiled softly and shook your head. For once you felt as if you mattered. 

“I’m Austin,” he introduced himself. You nodded at his introduction and signed back your own name. “That’s a beautiful name.”

You felt your face heat up from the compliment. You turned your head away from him to hide your red face. You engrossed yourself back to your design as you told yourself off. You couldn’t just let yourself fall for the first guy you met who knew sign language. There had to be some catch to it. Maybe he used it as a way to lore deaf girls. He could have been a murderer for all you knew!

Maybe you were overthinking this. Okay okay, you were majorly overlooking this, but even so… you were way too nervous to make any sense of a first move. He probably already had a girlfriend. Look at just how pretty he was. There was no way in hell he was single. You can’t just let this opportunity go away though. He knew sign language! Who knew if you would ever find a guy who knew sign language? You had to take this opportunity. Even if it did end in empressement. You let out a breath and looked up at the guy again. He seemed to have found you looking at him cause he turned to face you.

“I know this is very straightforward of me, but could I get your number?” You asked him with a hopeful smile. Austin smiled in return and nodded his head. You were quick to reach for your phone and hand it over to him. You couldn’t believe he even agreed to such terms. Most men would have run away by now. 

“How about you put yours in mine? That way we both have each others?” He suggested as he handed your phone back. You nodded in agreement and watched as he slide over his own phone. You quickly tap your number into his phone and left the contact as your name. As you handed back his phone he signed a quick thank you and stood up. 

“I’ll text you later.” Was the last thing he signed to you before he left. God… you were hopeful that he would text you. You knew nothing about this man but you were so goddamn hopeful that he would text you. 

After you finished up your drink and design, you decided it was best to head home. You didn’t have much else to do. Sure, you could go to the bookstore… but let’s be honest you didn’t need to spend any more money than needed. Yet, you loved to read romance novels. You always wondered what it would be like to have a romance like such. 

Letting out a sigh you pushed open the door to your apartment. You closed the door behind you and reached down to your purely white cat and gave her a quick pet. You placed your iPad on the table and plopped down on the couch. What if you texted him first? No no, that would seem too eager and sad. 

Turning on the tv you figured you could pass the time by watching some movies. It wouldn’t help, mostly because Austin was on your mind. The first boy to talk to you and you were suddenly head over heels for him? God, you were a joke. 

Later on that evening when you woke from your nap you decided to check your phone. For no reason in particular… okay, you were looking to see if Austin had texted you. There were some texts here and there from your parents but- wait a minute-

New Message from Austin

Okay, no way! Sure he said he was going to text, but a lot of guys say that. You were sure that Austin was going to be one of those guys. Boy were you glad you were wrong. You smiled and unlocked your phone and quickly went to the messages to see what he said. 

Hey! Sorry I’m getting to you late, been cooped up! 

No worries! 

How was your day?

Eh, pretty mediocre, though I did have a certain someone on my mind.

Oh?

Mhm

Her name is Y/n

Was he talking about you? Your name was y/n, but that didn’t mean other people couldn’t have your name. What if it was someone else with the same name? That would be pretty upsetting and embarrassing. God, you feel so stupid to let yourself fall for this go so quickly-

And I wanted to know if she’d like to go on a date sometime. 

By the way, I mean you

You let out a gasp. You couldn’t believe it! He was talking about you and he asked you out on a date! Okay okay okay, be cool… be cool. Don’t scare him away right now. Just don’t do it… You pressed your thumbs against the letters and sent out your reply. 

I’d love to!

That was cool, right? It was simple and it didn’t seem too eager. You couldn’t wait to tell your mother about this. All she wanted was for you to find happiness in this dark silent world. If she knew you possibly found someone… God, she would absolutely lose her marbles!

How about tomorrow at four? 

I’ll come and pick you up.

That sounds perfect! Can’t wait!

┗━•❃°•°❀°•°❃•━━┛

Life was going perfectly. Too perfectly in fact. You were worried that something bad was going to happen. That was how it was in the end. You get a taste of happiness and that sweet sweet life of forever. Next thing you knew it all comes hurdling down into the ground. 

“Blow out the candles.” Your father signed to you. You smiled and looked at the people around you. Your family, your friends, your boyfriend. You thought shortly for your wish, which was the same every year and sucked in a breath. You puffed out your cheeks and blew out all the candles. You watched as everyone cheered.

Your older sister came along and pulled away the cake to cut it into pieces. Your mother had her phone pointed at you to capture the moments. Something she always did, even when you were a baby. You felt a soft pair of lips touch your head and you turned to face the person. 

“Happy Birthday, clover.” Austin signed as he gave you an envelope. You smiled at him and accepted the card with ease. Austin liked to call you his clover. His lucky clover in fact. It was given to you pretty early on when he got the role for a movie he’s been dying to get. He says you gave him that extra push he needed. 

You tore open the envelope and pulled out the card. You read it over and when you opened it you saw a piece of paper with a picture of a cochlear implant on it. You looked over at Austin in confusion.

“What is this?” You asked him.

“Your wish is coming true, sweetheart.” He smiled. You felt your heart burst as tears started to form in your eyes. You started to shake your head from side to side. This wasn’t happening. This couldn’t be happening. There was no way in hell Austin was buying you a cochlear implant. 

“No,” 

“It is. Your appointment is tomorrow.” Austin told you. You let out a small whimper and stood up from your seat and threw your arms around him. There was no way you could ever repay him. The amount of money he is spending just so you were able to hear? That was priceless, and something that could not be repaid. 

Tears started to fall from your eyes quicker than you could react. Austin pressed his thumbs against our cheeks and wiped away the tears. He mouthed I love you and you nodded and mouthed it back. He pulled your face close to his and kissed you gently.

Tomorrow couldn’t come fast enough! You were ecstatic the whole rest of the day. Even while in bed you were restless. You wanted to get the doctors. Get everything set up and head into surgery. You wanted this to happen fast. You wanted to be able to hear. You wanted to hear your boyfriend. 

Even while in the car you couldn’t stop moving. Your leg bounced with excitement. Austin was in awe by watching you. You were like a little kid on Christmas morning. Without him, you would have never been able to have this opportunity. And for that, you would be forever grateful.  You turned over and looked at Austin, a huge smile on your face. 

“You excited?” He asked you. A quick nod was your answer. It was a simple answer but it brought forth all your emotion. 

“Super, I cannot wait!” 

It didn’t take too much longer when you arrived at the place. There were three stages to getting a cochlear implant. The first was to do all the questions and tests. The second was getting the surgery, and lastly was healing. Technically there were a lot more steps, but… luckily you went through those when you were younger. 

The appointment went quickly and fast, and you got your surgery date stated. Sure… you had to wait a whole goddamn week… but you waited years just for this opportunity to arise. In fact, you never thought that this opportunity would come. You were grateful for Austin, and you owe him everything.

┗━•❃°•°❀°•°❃•━━┛

“So, you’ll need to change the batteries every so often,” The doctor explained to you. You nodded just to get the conversation to end. You wanted to put it on already! You wanted to hear the world. You wanted to hear Austin. The doctor turned and spoke some words to Austin. You kicked your feet eagerly. 

Before you knew it the doctor handed you the external opponent. You quickly placed it around your air and placed it into place. You looked around ready for anyone to speak. Your eyes landed on Austin. He walked up to you and took your hands.

“Hi clover,” he spoke, and you heard it! You heard his voice. Your mouth opened a bit in shock. His voice… his voice just matched him so perfectly.

“Oh my god,” You muttered out as you heard your own voice. Your hands flew up to cover your mouth. So many things were happening at once. You couldn’t believe this moment! You heard the sound of the air conditioner. You heard the buzzing of the fluorescent lights above you.

You started to tear up. You started to shake your head and soon tears were falling down your face. Austin chuckled lightly and wrapped his arms around you and pulled you into his chest. He rubbed your back and nodded towards the doctor as a thank you.

“If any problems arise, give me a call and we’ll get her an appointment. I’ll leave you two be.” The doctor announced. You looked over at the doctor and just felt more tears. You couldn’t believe this. You couldn’t even begin to describe what it felt like to hear it again. 

Austin rested his cheek against your head as you wrapped your arms around him. You wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for him. You know you kept saying that but… you really did mean it. Austin was your everything, and he gave you everything. He gave you, your hearing back. How many people can say they did that for their girlfriend? Probably none. 

After you calmed down a bit you pulled yourself away. You looked up at Austin. He looked down at you and smiled. He brought his thumbs up to your face and wiped away your tears. He brought his lips down to your face and kissed both of your cheeks.

“I love you, Y/n,” Austin spoke. You thought you were all out of tears, but he just brought them all back. That was the first time you ever heard that. 

“I-I love you too,” you weren’t used to your voice just yet. That was something you were going to need to get used to. Austin pulled your face forward and kissed you. You leaned into his touch and kissed back. This was heaven. You said yes to heaven. 

Mutual Taglist: @darlinboypresley, @emmymaehereeeeee, @venus-haze, @austinstyles

[opinated-user]

"if she doesn't want to associate with the community that's fine... but she doesn't get to speak for a community you reject."

then the first person you should tell this to is LO, because for years this woman has actively rejected consider herself as part of the community or even reaching out to anyone in that community. why do you think there aren't really any Natives who have ever come out to speak in defense of LO? none that wasn't an "anon" impossible to verify, that is. there are actual Native people who have seen what she does with that "heritage" and calle it out. 2. "she should have informed community leaders and walk away".

this... this is just the most terminally online take ever. did you send this again, LO? i think you did, because this is just another variant of "if i did anything that bad, then call the cops". let's put it this way: 1. why anyone would think to talk with community leaders of a community you aren't part of about some z-list tier youtube critic with a brownfacing rantsona? and 2. honest question, what exactly do you want those community leaders to do about a z-liest tier youtube critic with a brownfacing rantsona that they have never met or have any knowledge of or has enough of a big influence? do you all think LO is the first, the second or even the third person to claim to be Cherokee in the internet? do you all seriously think they're going to go out of their way to do something for each time that happens? actual Native people, especially the ones responsible for holding their communities together, have better things to do than caring about any of this. i'm not surprised that LO doesn't know or care about any of that because she has never cared before, so why start now. gygas later is going to agree with me, so what exactly is even your point here, "anon" or LO, since LO apparently shares that point of view? 3. "her pulling her i am very badass bitch" i have trouble remembering. maybe some of the people reading this can help me. who was the person who was advicing kids to grab the heaviest object they could find and cave in the skulls of their bullies? who was the person who said she wanted to grab rowling and christie goldstein golden to beat them to death with a rock in a video? who was the person who said she send a "stalker" to the hospital and got a concussion a result, but never got any medical attention for it? who was the one who said she stabbed a MAGA guy in the streets and later published pictures of her pristine, blood free, like it had never been touched before, knife in tumblr? who was the one who openly said that she hoped the skull of her ex Lizzy would cave in? what sister was that was bragging for years about punching the other fifteen times in the gut to leave them crying in the floor? who was the one who made up a story about giving out free tampons to the girls in her highschool... because for some reason they thought that made them cool rather than extremely creepy? i know that wasn't Courtney. but i can't remember who it was. i'm sure it will come to me eventually. 4. "other trans women." what trans women? you? okay, that is one. she apologized for misgendering you and saying transphobic things when she first knew about you. you're free to never forgive her for that, of course, but she never repeated that ever again and she has tried to respect your gender and pronouns just like the rest of us. but you're also her sister, one of her abusers and the one who is currently also erasing the abuse that had nothing to do with you, so i think that's good enough of a reason for her to talk about you, trans woman or not. there's also P. the trans woman that you spend years lying about and making gross insinuations about her and her child before anyone ever find out what their relationship was actually like, so the only reason you actually had to say any of it was because she responded to your lies and talked about you. that same trans woman you also doxxed her irl workplace when you heard a unconfirmed rumour from anons that she had showed Courtney's nudes to people. that same trans woman that Courtney has been speaking out as been sexually harassing her since the moment they met practically and currently is trying to paint Courtney as abusive. i'm going to go ahead and assume that you don't really care about her. you were the one revealing her real life information, not Courtney. you were the one saying "ominous" about a trans woman you didn't really know when you found out that she was a parent.

as if trans woman don't have enough false accusations of being a danger to kids. you never had a single good thing to say about P, so let's take her out of the way. which other trans women is he targeting, LO? where are they, LO? if they're such helpless victims of the evil Courtney, wouldn't you want them to get all the support that they can get? so why you're hiding them? are you really going to enable the evil Courtney to keep harming all those innocent trans women who "never did a damn thing wrong" in their entire lives? according to you, who can blame a six year old for not speaking out about your abuse, then that makes you just as bad as Courtney. just like you stayed quiet when you let an actual predator prey on your underaged audience and we begged you for days to do something about it. 5. "partake in white supremacist rethoric." white supremacist do not care about the heritage of Native people, LO. they think their culture is inferior and should be erased, replaced by their superior cultures. they think any signifier of their culture, like their language, their land and their traditions, are garbage to be disposed of. that's your opinion about them, LO. that's what you have said and acted as for years. now, i'm not calling you a white supremacist. i'm calling you a racist white person. that's a difference. 6. i forgot to mark this, but "it was difficult for me because i was both grieving and being introduced to a bunch of new people who i am always nervous about" i know i already used this meme but...

i think you had a slip there, LO. you keep blaming your parents for why you couldn't form any kind of relationship to those people. that excuse could fly when you're a kid that lives under their roof and has limited range of action. not when you're a fully grown woman living on your own... well... "on your own" is a bit of a stretch, considering you very much still count with daddy's money to keep you afloat when your poorly through out videos flop. but you don't live with them. you could have contacted those people on your own, nobody was stopping you. nothing but your own racist notion that being claimed by the Nation somehow meant being forced to live in a "ghetto" reservation the rest of your life. and yet you didn't. Courtney has kept in contact with your aunt. the aunt who is dissapointed in you and wants nothing to do with you. funny how you completely glossed over that, huh?

7. "i have a lot more reason to hate people in the family." you alone decided that he was lying about being raped by your older brother and told to "get over it" by your parents, LO. you alone decided that because that's an easier narrative that both discredit Courtney talking about the abuse you inflicted on him, but also keep the good relationship you want with the transphobic brother who wished you died in order to prey on his children. especially that 6 year old niece. i bet she being that young brings you memories of when Courtney was that same age, doesn't it?

8. "i barely know my grandparents or my aunt or uncles specifically because i was kept away from them so my parent's abuse wasn't discovered." so what is your excuse now? as a 30 year old woman, what is your excuse to not even message your aunt, the only claimed by a Nation relative you have left alive? or you're going to made up they left you another "family heirloom" just after they die, like you did for your grandpa? Courtney has kept in contact with them, despite not wanting anything to do with the rest of the family. it's really that easy. you could always reach out, you have been able to since daddy got you a new house just so you could stop living under his roof. it's okay, LO. you don't pretend to care about a community of people you obviously don't. just say that your "reclaiming heritage" is your burning sage in your room and buying dreamcatchers. that you have no intention of ever being part of their culture. just say already that you think their culture is trash and it's only good as a flee market to pick and chose the part you like. it's what you already imply with the way you act, might as well stop being a coward and be open about it.

9. "my niece and nephew." the more you keep remarking how much you had to endure in order to be close to those children, the more disturbed i get. is it really worth it, LO? having a 6 year old little girl to trust you is really worth forgiving the father who beat you until you were 15, the brother who is transphobic to you to this day and the mother who saw it all and let it happen? is your "love" for little girls that great? i'd say that Courtney really did a number on you, but that would imply that Courtney actually did anything for you to obsess over him even now. you just keep searching for a replacement, just like in your writing, you keep holding to that thought that one day, someway, somehow, you'll finally have that incest lesbian relationship you think Disney gave you in Frozen. don't think i forgot how you also sometimes ship aunts/uncles with their nieces. 10. "she'll get hurt doing it." now, who is the one pretending to be a badass? 11. "i was a pretty disturbed teenager all those years ago." and you have taken absolutely zero accountability or responsability for none of that for decades at this point. you keep blaming your teenage years in writing stockholm (when you aren't lying that other people edited to make you look worse), but you were an adult already when writing about rainbow fantasizing with 14 year old Courtneys, i mean characters. when you do try to talk about being a teenage, you try so desperately to try to make you seem like an untouchable badass that was so cool, knew better than everyone and went unappreciated for so long. a part of me understand that when you were actually an outcast with no friends, that kind of narrative can be comforting, even if nobody actually believes on them. i imagine it must feel great to pretend you always knew everything, including homework, was abuse, because admit that once you were an innocent kid who couldn't understand what was happening is scary. it's scary to admit that someone took advantage of you being so small and then don't have any idea of what to do about it. it's admit that you were vulnerable, helpless and completely powerless. nobody blames you for that. unlike you blaming 6 year old Courtney about not speaking for the abuse you went through, and that he didn't really know about, we do understand that kids should never be responsible for stopping the abuse that awful adults decided to inflict on them.

but you did had a choice to not hurt other people. no amount of abuse you ever went through would make it okay that you kept going to until you were physically unabled to. Courtney has come to terms with what he did because of his trauma and openly admits it. you can't even do that, and not happy with that alone, erase the abuse that had nothing to do with you. because Courtney hates the family for no reason, right? there's no reason for why she'd decide to go no contact for years? there's no reason for why she wouldn't go to your grandpa's funeral? his rapist and enablers being there couldn't ever be a reason.

10. ngl, the way you just keep harping on the runaway boyfriend of Courtney as the main reason why Courtney is supposedly bitter with his life is so weird... couldn't be that you were that jelous of that boyfriend, LO? because they took your "baby sister" away from you? or maybe because, unlike you, that boyfriend did had consent to touch him without him being knocked out? because Courtney was actually happy with him? because it was thanks to him that Courtney was able to lose contact with all of you? Courtney's version of the story is that she's just grateful to being able to get out of that house and i believe him. but it does feel to me like that boyfriend only accelerated what was going to happen anyway. Courtney was always going to cut ties with all of you. he was never going to forgive you for hurting him the way you did. you were never going to find understanding or being told that it was okay, you're not a bad person for molesting and trying to coerce your sibling into commiting incest for almost a decade. even if that boyfriend never existed, you were never going to unlock her door again. but you don't realize that, so you keep building this narrative that decision destroyed the rest of her life and now, as a 30 year old person, Courtney can't stand it. just so you feel better thinking that somehow she'd be better if she just stayed with that family. Courtney took the very first chance he had to abandon you, he was glad to do so. the saddest part is that you still refuse to understand you were part of the reason why that happened. you drove your sibling away, LO. not that boyfriend. 12. gygas literally said it there: Courtney has been in contact with your aunt. you don't. this "internet drama" is you stealing from their culture and claiming an identity that has nothing to do with you. you never even attempted to reach out to those people and you admit it alone here.

[spoodrm4n]

This is Me Trying

Chapter One: ‘Cause I Haven’t Moved in Years

Pairings: Harley Keener/Peter Parker

Summary: Peter is struggling after losing everyone closest to him-- May, Tony, Ned, and MJ. Harley is struggling with where he came from and the parts of his past he never healed from. Harley needs a roommate and Peter is getting evicted. 

Read Ch. 2 here

…

Peter Parker isn’t a bitter person– or at least he doesn’t think so. After all of the detrimental events that have taken place in his life, he’s not bitter. He refuses to believe he’s bitter. 

Sure, he’s living alone in one of the worst apartment complexes in Queens, works two jobs just to afford rent and the bare essentials of life all whilst attending Queensborough community college. In the midst of all of this, he patrols every night, only getting a couple hours of sleep a night. And it’s only been a month since he watched his aunt die and the whole world forget him— including the people he loved most. 

He misses May with everything in him. The grief bubbles up his throat more often than not and sometimes it’s all encompassing and doesn’t let him breathe. He could’ve done more– done better and saved her. Sometimes when he washes his hands he can still see her blood on them. He barely sleeps because he’s plagued by the memories of her death replaying over and over and over and over…

MJ and Ned live on without him and he’s unbelievably happy for them. Sometimes he’ll spot them walking the streets near the coffee shop MJ works at. Sometimes Peter is selfish and even though rent is late and the coffee shop is twenty minutes away, he goes there anyway, just to make sure she’s still okay. Of course she is; he’s not there to screw up her life. 

Ned is the same. He’s still Ned, but not his best friend Ned. It’s odd to think of how people change whenever you’re no longer a lasting impact on them or a constant in their life. Peter misses the sleepovers, building legos, the lab experiments, and the patrolling with Ned as his guy in the chair and it makes his heart ache. 

Another wound that Peter harbors is the death of Tony. When Peter had come back to life from the snap the first thing he had thought to do was find Tony. Nothing else had mattered in that moment. He had found him amidst the chaos of the battlefield and they had hugged and Peter was whole. Not even five minutes later he would be the shell of the person he was. The tears had dried out and nothing was left but numbness. He remembers Mr. Stark’s half-alive eyes and the way his charred skin burned his nostrils. It had been too much. He still has yet to get over that first loss and he hasn’t. He doesn’t know where to start.

He patrols more– all that he can. He saves everyone he can and stays up at night due to the ones he can’t. He gets a bit more reckless, having to stitch himself up more often that he would be willing to admit. Peter is hurting and all he knows is to push it down. Push it down as far as he can and swallow the bitterness because that’s what he isn’t. 

Life could certainly be better, but Peter believes he isn’t bitter.

Harley Keener is a bitter person. He’s grown up bitter and angry and spiteful and he’s well aware. He doesn’t hide it, either– refuses to. If there’s two things Harley is it’s most certainly bitter and honest.

He’s bitter at the fact that he remembers the sounds of his dad beating his ma. He’s bitter that sometimes he would be the one getting beaten instead. He’s bitter at the fact that his dad left when he and Abbie were just kids. He’s bitter that his ma had to pick up two jobs just to support the three of them and that he couldn’t do anything but watch for so long. He’s bitter that he was forced to grow up entirely way too soon. He’s bitter because Tony was one of the only good things in his life and just like everything else it got ripped from him.

He had moved to New York not too long after Tony’s death. Pepper had reached out to him the weekend of Tony’s funeral and had disclosed that there was a large sum stashed away for Harley. Included in that was a suit made specially for Harley as well as a lab that was to be shared with someone named Peter Parker. 

Pepper had tried to remember any mention of the boy, but she would always end up drawing a blank. It also didn’t help that the kid was practically untraceable. 

Harley had bought a nice apartment just outside of Queens in Manhattan and spent his time working through his classes at ESU, doing some contracting work for neighbors or others around the area, and helping save the citizens of New York as his secret identity of Iron Lad.

He’s bitter and angry and resentful at the world he’s grown accustomed to and he’s well aware of it. 

…

“Harley, honey, how are classes going?” Harley rushed to press the phone against his ear, almost missing what Pepper says as he walks into his apartment, kicks off his shoes, and locks the door. 

“They’re going fine, ma’am. Midterms are keeping me on my toes, though.” Harley walks further into the apartment, setting his keys down on the kitchen counter and bending down to lean his elbows against the marble. 

“How many times do I have to tell you to just call me Pepper?” He hears her sigh from across the phone line. 

“I’m afraid you’ll have to tell me plenty more.” Harley feels the ghost of a smile pull at his lips. 

“How’s the search for a roommate going? I’m sure there’s plenty of applicants.” Pepper changes the subject and Harley stands up straight now, moving to the living room and eyeing the stack of applications on the coffee table. 

“Sure are. All seem like a bunch of stuck ups, though. No one’s caught my eye.” Harley’s honest with her, picking up a few papers and tossing them back down half haphazardly. 

“That’s a shame. I know how lonely it can be living by yourself. Another person would do you good, Harley.” Pepper knows Harley is struggling, no matter how much he covers it up with jokes, hard work, or just being plain mean. Harley knows she sees right through him. 

“Yeah, I know. I’m working on it, Pepper.” He sighs, sitting down on the couch and switching the phone from his right ear to his left. The thing is though, Harley doesn’t necessarily want a roommate, but Pepper’s been on his ass for the last couple months. He knows she’s only worried about him, but Harley’s doing fine. He’s fine. 

“I know you are. I have to get going, Morgan has gymnastics and she’s been reminding me about it all day,” she laughs and Harley musters a smile. He can imagine Morgan’s pouty face and her puppy dog eyes. 

“Yes ma’am. Can’t keep Mo waiting,” Harley’s smile turns sad as he remembers how long it’s been since he’s seen the two. 

“Bye, Harley. Don’t be afraid to call.” Pepper and Harley don’t say ‘I love you’ well, they say it in different ways. They both understand, though. 

Before Harley gets a chance to respond she’s hung up and he’s left in his own silence. His shoulders slump and tilts his head back, closing his eyes and thinking about what he has to do tonight. 

He decides to go through new applications first, hoping to ease Pepper’s worry. He stands and heads for the front door, quickly finding the mailbox attached to his door. He opens it and a hefty stack of papers await him. He groans, dreading going through all of these applications. He makes his way to the dining table and stacks them neatly in front of him as he sits down. 

He’s about a third of the way through the stack when a familiar name catches his eye. “Peter Parker…” He says aloud, grabbing the paper from out of the stack and examining it carefully. 

“Nineteen years old, goes to Queensburough, works two jobs, lives alone…” Harley rattles off, eyebrows furrowing the more he reads. “Fallen on hard times and it’s become hard to afford an apartment alone.” He finishes. He re-reads the application more, observing the way that Peter had described himself and how he is studying in engineering. “Peter Parker…” Harley mumbles again. He knows that name. He makes a mental note to text Pepper about the name and ask her if that name is familiar. He’s almost certain he had heard Pepper say his name before. 

His eyes find the phone number on the top of the page and he pulls his phone out of his pocket, typing in the number. It rings once, twice, three times, then goes to voicemail. 

“This is Peter! I’m sorry I couldn’t answer your call, I’ll get back with you as soon as I can, thank you!” Harley is slightly annoyed and surprised by the cheery voice that filters through the speaker. The dial tone beeps and Harley blinks, kind of caught off guard.

“Hi Peter, I got your application for sharing the apartment and I’d like to meet with you to discuss further options. Thank ya much, Harley Keener.” He hits the end call button and sets his phone down on the table, continuing to go through the applications. 

…

Peter stops in front of the door of his apartment, getting slapped in the face with the bright yellow paper stuck to his door that reads, ‘60 day eviction notice’. He swallows down the lump in his throat as someone clears their throat from behind him. 

“Rent has been late the last four months, Mr. Parker. I’ve given you multiple chances and it just isn’t working out.” Peter turns on his heel and is met with Mr. Hall. He wears a deep frown, almost like he doesn’t want to kick Peter out, but has no choice. The guy clearly has a choice, though; he’s been doing just fine with Peter’s late rent. Someone’s probably offered the guy more money for the place that Peter doesn’t have. 

“I know and I’m so sorry Mr. Hall, I’ve been trying really hard. It’s just–” Peter’s cut off by Mr. Hall finishing his sentence.

“You work two jobs and you’re going to college? I know Mr. Parker and I’m very sorry, but I can no longer tolerate this. I’ve been patient these last few months but I have a family to feed.” Peter knows it’s bullshit, but forces a smile for him instead. 

“Okay, I understand.” Peter is short and he quickly turns around, ripping the note off his door and swallowing down the lump in his throat. He shuts the door behind him and grits his teeth, setting his backpack on the floor so he can run his hands through his hair. 

He had filled out multiple applications for people looking for roommates in the area and only one had gotten back with him so far, but the rules were entirely too strict for Peter. There was no way he was going to be able to be SpiderMan and live under the same roof as the guy. 

He threw the eviction notice onto the counter and picked his backpack up, carrying it to the small desk in the corner to finish his homework. By the time he was done, the sky had gone dark and the city streets became just a bit quieter. 

Peter breathes out, placing all of his finished work back into its assigned folder and stood, stretching out the stiffness that came with sitting in a poorly made, wooden chair. He chances a glance out of the one window in his one room apartment and decides to turn the police scanner on, getting ready for patrol and putting on his SpiderMan suit. He was itching to get out of the cramped space he called ‘home’. 

…

Harley fiddled with the hot sleeve on his coffee cup as he waited for Peter to arrive. The guy was already ten minutes late and Harley was about to finally get up and leave, accepting he’d been blown off, but the dinging of the front door bell stopped him. 

He looked up and his eyes met with a boys' brown ones. Harley immediately recognized the boy across the coffee shop as Peter, recalling the photo from his application. Peter looked impossibly better in person. His brown hair curled at the ends, but it wasn’t necessarily messy, his eyes were a deep brown, but shone in the sunlight that streamed through the many windows in the shop. He was dressed in a baggy sweater that looked like a lucky, vintage find in a thrift store and some dark-washed jeans. His tennis shoes were teetering on the edge of falling apart and he had a navy blue backpack slung over his shoulder. 

“Are you Harley?” Harley blinked and found that Peter was standing right in front of him now, eyebrows pulled together and hands nervously gripping the straps of his backpack. 

“Y-yeah, go ahead and sit down. Ya know you’re late?” Harley gestured towards the chair across from him, motioning for Peter to sit down. 

“Yeah, I’m really sorry about that. You know how awful it can be to get around in the city sometimes.” Peter flashed Harley an apologetic smile, sitting down in the chair and setting his bag on the floor next to him. 

“I understand. So, Peter, tell me about yourself.” Harley was intrigued by Peter. The moment he watched him walk through the door he had wanted to know more about him. 

“There’s not much to say other than what was already on my application,” Peter shrugged, fingers picking at the skin around his nails. 

“Well there wasn’t a lot about you on the application. I know you attend Queenburough and have two jobs, but that’s about it.” Harley quirks an eyebrow, elbows leaning on the table in front of him.

“I’m majoring in engineering and minoring in psychology. I live in a one room apartment that smells like a dumpster because it’s all I can afford– or was. I like photography, but I haven't had much time to get into it again, though.” Peter shrugged, eyes meeting Harley’s every now and again. 

“Got any family that lives ‘round here?” Harley leans forward as he studies Peter. The hurt that flashes across Peter’s face is only there for a split second, then it’s gone again. 

“No.” He answers simply and Harley furrows his eyebrows. It’s obvious his question had been a surprise and touchy subject for Peter.

“They live out of state?” Harley assumed Peter’s situation could be similar to his. He misses his ma and Abbie and makes a mental note to call them at some point this week. 

“Uh, no. I don’t really have any family left.” Peter shifted uncomfortably in his seat, eyes avoiding Harley’s. The pieces fell into place and Harley lets out a small ‘oh’ at Peter’s words. 

“Shit, I’m sorry.” Harley’s mouth is dry– he doesn’t know what else to say, really. 

“It’s alright. I think I’m slowly coming to terms with it.” Peter dares to meet Harley’s gaze. His stomach turns at the look of pity on Harley’s face. 

“Ya shouldn’t have to. Look, I’m gonna be honest– I could really use a roommate. The woman that’s practically my second mother has been on my ass about not living alone. And it seems like you could use some company yourself, so, when can you move in?” There’s a few steps Harley skips in the interviewing process, throwing caution to the wind. He’s drawn to Peter and he doesn’t particularly know why, but he wants to. 

“That’s it?” Peter’s jaw is dropped, eyebrows raised. 

“Well, yeah.” Harley shrugs. He figured Peter would be eager at his offer. 

“How much is rent?” Peter asks before he dives head first into what the blonde is offering him.

“$150 a month. I’m pretty well off, honestly, and I would really just need you to pay for utilities and groceries.” Peter has to stop his jaw from hitting the table. 

“Any rules I should know about up front?” Peter believes this is too good to be true.

“I would prefer if you kept your dirty shoes off the rug, don’t forget to clean up after yourself, and shower everyday. Don’t need ya stinkin up the place.” Harley rattles off. “If you let me do me, I’ll let ya do you. Simple as that.”

“Well of course I’m gonna shower everyday who do you think I am?” Peter rolls his eyes, arms crossing over his chest.

“I don’t know your life, Parker.” Harley pops the ‘p’ if Peters last name in a satisfying and annoying way.

“Well, what if I was a murderer? And-and you just let me move in with you on a whim?”  Peter gaped, hands motioning wildly. Harley blinked at the boy.

“Well are you?” Peter paused, staring back at the blonde. 

“Am I a murderer?” Peter re-affirmed, voice hushed as to not alarm the other patrons enjoying their coffee.

“Yeah, are you?” Harley challenged, arms crossed against his chest. He already knew the answer.

“No! Of course not–” Harley cuts Peter off by standing, the legs of his chair scraping against the tile floor. 

“Then it’s settled. You’re moving in with me.” Harley won’t take no for an answer. 

…

It’s a week later and Peter has packed all of his life into a total of four boxes. Harley is supposed to pick him up and help him move, but now that Peter is all packed, he realizes there’s not much help to be had. 

A knock at his door snaps him out of his trance and he moves to open it. On the other side, there’s Harley who looks like he’s just seen a homeless man piss into a bottle at Central Park and throw it in the kids playground. “You weren’t joking about the dumpster smell, Pete.” Harley pushed past Peter and into the small, empty apartment. 

“I’m all packed up.” Peter says, choosing to ignore Harley’s comment. Harley places his hands on his hips and surveys the room, his eyes landing on the four boxes stacked neatly across the room. 

“Only four boxes?” Harley turns around, head tilted like a confused puppy.

Peter nods back at him, “to be fair, when I first moved here there was only one.” 

Harley can’t decide whether to laugh or frown, so he settles on pulling his lips into a thin line. “Well let’s get a move on, Parker.”

It takes them one whole trip for the both of them to take the four boxes downstairs to Harley’s car. Peter knows he should be at least a bit embarrassed, but he can’t find it in himself to care. He doesn’t think Harley cares that much either; it just makes the process a whole lot easier anyhow. 

Peter’s honestly impressed that Harley even has a car. New Yorkers don’t really own cars and when they do they have money.

“You drive?” Peter breaks the silence that has fallen over the two on the drive to Harley’s apartment.

“Good observation, sweetheart.” Harley smirks and Peter fumbles on his next words.

“No-no like— I know of maybe two people that own cars and live in the thick of New York,” Peter clarifies and Harley hums.

“Well I’m not from around here. I moved up from Tennessee for college and in Tennessee you can’t really walk anywhere too quickly. Had to learn how to drive to get around and get a half decent job– although that’s a joke when it comes to Rose Hill.” Harley explains. Peter mentally notes Harley’s accent. Makes sense.

“Do you like it here?” Peter keeps the topic focused on Harley. Harley doesn’t need to know about Peter. Peter is solely moving in with Harley because he can no longer afford to live on his own and there was no way that he could’ve passed up the deal he was offered. After losing May, MJ, and Ned he’s decided and determined to keep everyone at arms length.

“Not really, no. The city stinks all the time, people are downright rude, and traffic constantly bites you in the ass.” Harley complains, fingers drumming impatiently along the steering wheel as they sit in traffic. “What about you? Have you always lived here?” 

“Yeah. Born and raised in Queens.” Peter’s reply is short and strained, making it obvious he doesn’t want to talk about himself any further. Harley doesn’t get the memo and continues with his questions. 

“Ah, so you’re a true New Yorkian.” Harley’s fingers now drum along the wheel to the faint beat of the song that’s playing through the speakers instead of impatiently. 

“That is not a real term.” Peter points out and Harley rolls his eyes, turning for just a moment to face Peter. 

“It is now. I’ve just decided.” And Peter groans, elbow leaning on the console between them and hiding his face in his palm. 

“You shouldn’t be allowed to make decisions like that. They don’t seem like they’re good ones,” Peter looks up and is met with Harley’s right profile. He’s staring at the car ahead, just now moving forward.

“How would you know? You’ve only known me for a week.” Harley shoots back and Peter snorts. 

“Exactly. And now I’m moving in with you.” Harley is silent and Peter thinks he’s finally won the argument, but then–

“You agreed. I didn’t kidnap you; you came willingly.” Peter can’t really argue with that one.

Harley: 1, Peter: 0.

[jasperandhenryslovechild]

YOYOYOYO DYSTOPIA AU / OC LORE DROP!!!

i decided that im gonna do it out of order because it makes it a lot funner for me to put things together and stuff!! but yeah yeah this is a chunky read, abt ~5600 words give or take? and tumblr kept posting it when i wasn't done fixing the formatting and it was so horrid😭😭 but it's good now!!

im gonna probably reblog this or edit it later with an ao3 link to make it easier to read

but yes yes i hope someone in this world enjoys this au a fraction as much as i do because that would have made all this struggle to getting it out worth it :)

reblog / reply with literally anything you thought about this i am in desperate need for someone to know about this in the way i do sososoososo that being said have fun

SEPTEMBER 7, 2024

DYSTOPIA, [UNIDENTIFIED]

2:26 AM

"Are you mad at me?" Ollie asks as he's following his friend down a dark alley behind Mallory's Community Center. Yara looked a bit off-putting right now— walking with an indignation that sort of scared him. If Ollie wasn't her friend, he'd avoid her.

"No," she responded, voice soft. Kind.

In this entire operation, Yara was the only thing Ollie trusted. She was the only thing Ollie stayed for. He didn't trust anything here. This was a cult, and sure, he was currently best friends with a girl in a cult, but she was kind. She was different than them. Ollie knew that if he could take her out of Dystopia, if he could take her to Swellview and on boat trips and hold her hand in his room while they did each other's hair (platonically, of course— his heart had always been set on that boy who'd stayed in Swellview after he'd left), she'd be a different person.

She'd do better.

"What is this, then?"

She didn't respond. It kind of scared Ollie. She'd broken into the house in the middle of the night, she'd opened his window and told him to pack everything he wanted to keep into a bag and leave with him. It was fucking creepy. Nay, it was terrifying. Ollie hadn't thought the operation would reach the lengths of his own home. But Henry had said he could go, he'd put a tracker on him just in case. Just to make sure he'd never be far.

And like that, he'd followed Yara. And over these weeks of getting to know her, he knew he'd follow her pretty much anywhere. But right now, he doubted if that was even a smart choice to begin with.

They turned a corner, getting further from Mallory's Community Center and closer to places Henry had banned the group as a whole from going to. Everyone except himself, of course, because he was always an exception. Ollie could scoff at it. But he'd said it was one of the more dangerous corners that Dystopia had to offer— big league villains with objectives and goals bigger than them. Things not even Henry considered himself ready for.

"Yara, what is this?" he repeated, hoping to get through to her. To get some kind of information, because this was freaking him the fuck out.

Silence.

"I'm not mad at you."

Yara looked back at Ollie, sort of slowing her pace to a stop. She looked at Ollie— he looked nervous. Scared. Her brows furrowed, and she took his hand, squeezing it. It was dark, the light of a single street lamp that flickered in and out illuminating Ollie's view of her. He could have sworn he'd seen her blush, but the light wasn't steady enough to make it out.

"I'm not mad at you at all."

"Are we in danger?"

"No!"

Yara laughed a bit, like the idea was absurd. It forced Ollie to give a half-hearted chuckle too, just to try to match the energy. His hands were cold as he held hers tighter— warm and soft and safe. Even if he didn't understand a thing right now.

"Why would you think that?" she asked, still laughing a tiny bit.

"I don't know- I don't- I mean-- look at this!"

Ollie let go of one of Yara's hands to gesture around them. To the abandoned buildings, broken windows and a desolate environment. Hollow. His voice sounded a bit annoyed, somewhere between frustrated and concerned.

"You- I was sleeping and you just broke into my place, told me to pack all my stuff into your backpack, and told me to come with you! And the stupider thing is that I did! And now you won't even tell me where we are, or what we're going to do, and you've taken me to this place--"

"Orion," Yara began, as if she was trying to soothe Ollie. Or shut him up. One of the two.

"It's fine. You're not in trouble or anything, but-"

"Are you in trouble? Yara, we can leave."

Ollie scoffed a bit, taking Yara's hand again.

"Do you think we're trapped here or something? We can leave Dystopia if you want. We can go wherever if you're in trouble!-"

"Why would I want to leave Dystopia?" she asked incredulously, and Ollie stopped. Gh. Why wouldn't you want to leave Dystopia?

"I'm not in trouble, and neither are you. We're fine. In fact, we're more than fine."

"If we're more than fine, why did you pull me out of my room at three in the morning?"

"Will you just walk with me?"

Ollie paused for a second, thinking it over. He could just leave right now. He could just walk away and go back home. He didn't _have_ to walk with her. But she had his most prized possessions on her back, and she looked so... off. Ollie almost didn't want to leave her alone. The curiosity to know what was going on was stronger than his drive to be left alone and go to sleep.

He let her hands go and began walking.

The silence was almost threatening, and Ollie got an incredibly bad feeling about this. He felt like right now was the right moment, maybe last moment, to turn back and go home. Like a notion that he was about to walk right into something horrible. Just then, before Ollie could really think any deeper about it, Yara spoke.

"Mallory and I have been thinking about you," she began. Ollie felt a bit grossed out— he'd never felt good about Mallory. Besides the fact he was a literal cult leader, he just had a bad air to him. Ollie tensed for a second. Had they found out about the mission?

"and we think you've been... great, really."

Ollie let out a sigh of relief.

"I mean, helping Alex out with orders and stuff. Helping Mel with the kids. Advocating for the truth at the meets Mallory does. You're really an exemplary child of Osiris. You have balls— new club members aren't really all for that, and you are."

"Thanks," Ollie responded, giving a bit of a smile. It wavered as a gust of wind brushed his skin— he wasn't really wearing anything adequate for the weather. An old shirt and gym shorts from his freshman year in highschool that he surprisingly never grew out. Maybe if he'd been given some sort of warning in advance, he'd be dressed for the occasion.

A murder of crows flew by them as Yara started speaking again— Ollie counted seven.

"We wanted to... give you a formal welcome into the Harbingers," she started up again, making Ollie raise a brow. They turned another corner, into some kind of warehouse. It didn't have doors, and felt more like a parking lot than a warehouse now that Ollie paid a bit more attention to it. His mind was racing; what does that mean, what the fuck does that mean?

"You've done well with your initiation. Passed with flying colors, even. This is just a sort of final thing, yknow? Just to make sure you're with us."

"Do you doubt it?" Ollie asked back quickly. Seriously, what is this place?

"No, not at all! I'd never doubt your loyalty. None of us would. If we did, why would I bring you here?"

She smiled as she led Ollie across the abandoned parking lot, into a sort of sector that looked like it could be a store. A mall, it hits Ollie. This used to be a mall. Eugh, he does not like the sound of that. Malls are big, with a lot of rooms to hide things in. They're echoey, sure, but who goes to an abandoned mall? Who'd look for anything in an abandoned mall in a place as big and as technologically ahead as Dystopia?

If he went missing right now, who'd look for him here?

Was Henry even checking the tracker?

Ollie kept his quiet as he was led into a smaller area— it looked like it could be the lounge area before a bathroom. Or a changing room, or a lounge room. It was way too dark to tell. The room was barely lit, the only thing being a muffled light in the corner that wasn't strong enough to really help anything, and he could barely see Yara. She had taken his hand to guide him, and right now, Ollie was holding it tight enough to break it.

"You don't have to be afraid," someone spoke in front of him. Too close to him. Ollie yelped, taking a frightened step back and dragging Yara with him.

The sound of a match lighting could be heard, the fire sparking and illuminating the room a tiny bit. Whoever held the match was the person that had spoken, holding the fire to the candle he held in another hand.

Mallory.

Ollie could vomit.

He and Yara were laughing a tiny bit at Ollie's reaction, shaking his head.

"We're so sorry for scaring you, Orion," he began, passing the candle to someone Ollie could recognize as Alex. He took the candle around the room, lighting each one that was on the wall— held by a candle holder. Ollie furrowed his brows a bit as he watched it.

"We did not mean for it to be so dark in here, but the draft from outside kept coming in and putting the candles out— we kept the door open for Yara and you, but now that you're both here, we can keep the light on."

"... why not use lightbulbs?" Ollie deadpanned, as if the question was obvious. Mallory blinked, and spoke with a tone of genuine confusion.

"Excuse you?"

"Lightbulbs," he repeated. "Aren't lightbulbs a lot easier to use? Especially cause it's windy?"

"Candles are more natural. They come from the ground's natural materials, hydrocarbons that give more of an earthy feel--"

"They look a lot cooler than a lightbulb," Yara cut Mallory off, looking at Ollie. Mallory nodded.

"... yeah, they look a lot cooler than a lightbulb."

Ollie just sort of stared between them. That was so stupid.

"So, what is this?" he asked, looking around the room. Definitely an old lounge room. There were a good two or three other members of the Harbingers standing behind Mallory, in the back corners of the room. There was some sort of barrel next to one of them, with something inside of it, and in the middle of the room was a chair. With... straps? Rope?

Ollie shuddered.

"Well, Yara has told you about this being the final step to your initiation, no?" Mallory asked, and Ollie nodded. He swallowed, and it felt like swallowing a rock.

"She wasn't wrong— do you, by any chance, know what the final step might be?"

He hated how Mallory spoke to him like he was in kindergarten. He hated the way he looked, that stupid cloak. He wanted to beat up everyone in this room and go back home. He didn't know what stopped him. Maybe it was Henry's voice in the back of his head telling him he'd jeopardize the mission. Maybe it was Charlotte's, telling him it'd be better to just see it out for everything it was. He couldn't really hear his own voice between the fear and everyone in his head telling him what to do.

Maybe that was the most important part.

"I- don't?" Ollie responds meekly. "But it looks kind of scary, if it has to be done here-"

"It's not scary," Mallory reassured, putting a hand on Ollie's back. Ollie pulled away from it, but Mallory was persistent on keeping him close. Walking him over to the chair. "It's a way to connect you to Osiris, to unite Its followers under one common-"

"What is it?" Ollie insisted through gritted teeth, backing away from Mallory and from all of this. Closer to Yara, and closer to the exit.

Yara put a hand on Ollie's shoulder, making him look back at her.

"Calm down, Orion," she said, and it somehow found a way to make Ollie's shoulders drop a bit— less tense. She had a way of doing that. It made Ollie feel safe. She took her jacket off as she began speaking, tying it around her waist.

"Remember that time when we were on that truck?" she asked. "And you started pointing out all our scars and stuff?"

Of course he did, how could he forget?

A full night. They'd spent a full night in the back of Yara's old truck, 12 miles out from Dystopia in a field to get away from the heavy pollution of the city. They'd set out to see the stars and do the drugs that were left over from the transportation that night. It was early into the mission, a few days after he'd first signed up for it. It was stuff Mallory didn't need, so Yara thought they'd be able to just have fun with it while they stargaze, away from Dystopia and away from the world at large

Ollie remembers it as the first time he's ever used. It was great, but it was also kind of confusing— he didn't even know what it was, but he knew that it felt great. He found out he gets really fucking giggly and clingy when he's high, and he'd laid down in the back of the truck with Yara and started counting her freckles. Counting the scars on her arms and asking for their stories, landing on a weird looking one on her upper right arm.

It was what she showed Ollie once she took off her jacket, and it only settled in now what it actually was.

The Harbingers logo.

"No," Ollie said almost immediately, beating Yara to the punch as she had almost started to explain for herself why she'd brought up the memory. The idea of what they wanted to do to him was starting to settle in. He could feel his heart pounding in his chest— this is absolutely fucking insane. No. They're not- he's not going to let this happen.

"You're not doing that to me."

"Come here, Orion," Mallory cooed, grabbing onto Ollie's hand, to which he quickly jerked away.

"No! I'm not letting you brand me!"

"It's not just a branding," Yara said, moving towards the door as she looked into Ollie's eyes. Blocking his only way out.

"It's a way to connect to the God above. To show your unity and faith."

"I- I am faithful!" Ollie began, stumbling over his words as Mallory stepped towards him. He sounded a bit desperate, as if pleading with the people around him. The silence was deafening, and he felt like a cornered dog.

"I'm faithful! You said you didn't doubt that!"

"Then why won't you let us do this?" Mallory asked, getting more insistent. A bit closer to Ollie, too, like an animal trainer. Or a capturer.

"Because I don't want to be branded, dude- who-- who wants to be branded?!"

"Orion, just-" Yara began, but she was cut off.

"I'm not letting you guys do this. I'll do- I'll go to the masses, I'll wear the cloaks, I'll do whatever you want, but not--"

"You're condemning yourself."

"No, I'm not!"

Ollie began to try to start for the door, push Yara out of the way and run, but he felt someone grab him from behind. Yanking on the back of his shirt, pulling him in and grabbing his torso, raising him up and off the floor. Ollie turned his head, turned to see who's face he'd be pounding in.

Alex.

"Fuck, dude, don't- no! I don't want this, let me go!"

Ollie felt so fucking stupid for not being able to get out of his grasp. He thrashed, kicking his legs and clawing at Alex's arms, biting his hands trying to make him let go, but he didn't budge. Had he paid more attention to Henry when he teaches stuff, or been a better fighter, or gone on more missions, or anything, he might've been able to get out of this. He knew Sovi would. He knew Henry would. Fuck, even Piper would probably do better than this pathetic squirming thing Ollie was doing. He was too focused on surviving to think about practical ways to do it, and as he began yelling at his once-friend for restraining him like this, Mallory began speaking.

"Calm down," he began, and Ollie wanted to spit on him.

"You really shouldn't be put off by your initiation! This is all just a part of the process, and I promise you that everyone you love here has done it. Myself included!"

"I don't love you," Ollie spat as he was pushed down into the chair, the other Harbingers in the room coming from behind to tie him down. Yara gave a surprised look at the comment. Ollie didn't notice it, too focused on trying to get these people off of him.

"That is truly a shame," Mallory said, coming closer to Ollie and kneeling himself down in front of him.

"because I love you. And I love Yara, and I love Alex, and I love all our members. You're all equal and so, so important to me. This is why I'm doing this, do you not understand?"

Mallory put his hands on Ollie's balled fist, almost holding it. The worst part was that the hold felt loving. Like he was truly trying to comfort him, even through the disgust and rage Ollie was feeling. It was a gentle hold that felt fueled with nothing but care, even if this man meant nothing close to it. This man was nothing close to it.

He wanted to cry.

"I'm doing this because I love you. Because I truly want you to survive through The Final Abolishment. You will be recognized as a child of Osiris, and it will be... wonderful. It will feel like waking up for the first time."

He breathed it out like he truly believed it. Ollie hated himself for ever following Yara right about now. Mallory rubbed a thumb against his hand as tears pricked Ollie's eyes, and Ollie took a deep breath to compose himself. His jaw was clenched, hackles raised— he was furious and emotional and yet, Mallory soothed him like he was soothing a child. Ollie felt like anything but right now— he felt too grown for his own good, and he wanted to go home. And as stupid as it might sound, he wanted to sink into Sovilo's arms and cry, because this whole mission was just more than he ever knew he could take on.

Maybe that's why Mallory was treating him that way.

"Don't cry. People feel like this when they first sit here, too, did you know? I felt like you, too, when it was my first time branding myself. Because I was unsure. Because I wasn't fully devoted. I promise you that this is it, Orion, this is the turning point. You will never feel more connected to Osiris than now, okay? Do you trust me?"

'Not even with the time,' Ollie wanted to snap, but felt the last rope tighten around his leg and knew he was at this dude's full disposal. He didn't have any powers like Sovi or Henry— he couldn't use brute force to get out of the chair, he couldn't 'forcefield' these dudes away from him. He wasn't indestructible. It was just him and his words and his wits and that was it— and he wasn't even that smart! He just thought this would be a drug op! This wasn't the mission he signed up for!

Henry had promised him it wouldn't ever get physical against Ollie, not until he was ending the mission entirely. This didn't feel like the end at all, and it felt so far from the beginning. He couldn't out himself now, because that meant so much worse for everyone else he loved. If they branded the people they loved in this cult, what would they do to the people that betrayed them?

"... I trust you," Ollie breathed out, heart pounding in his ears. He could faint. Mallory, however, was satisfied with the answer and stood up.

"Then let us do this."

The moments between Mallory getting up and the branding iron being pushed against his upper arm were a blur. He could hear Yara sort of come closer to him, feel her grab onto his hand tight as if to help ground him. He didn't know what he was supposed to do about this— he was literally about to be fucking branded. And he didn't want anything to do with it.

He could hear the barrel open, could hear hot coals shift around in it as Mallory used a glove to grab the branding iron. The stick wasn't as hot as the logo itself that was attached onto the end of it; the glove looked more like a precautionary measure more that anything. And as Mallory approached with it, Ollie could see it. Red hot. Smoking.

Ollie could hear himself plead with Mallory for a second. "Please, don't do this, you don't have to do this, I'm a true follower, I swear!" he could hear himself beg from a second entity, from a glass wall outside of himself and far, far from here.

None of it worked—how could it have?—because the iron was pressed against his arm anyway.

To say it hurt was an understatement. It was only a good four seconds the iron had made contact with Ollie's skin, but it felt like a lifetime. He yelped at the first contact— the first contact was the worst part, making a pop sound as he yelled and brought tears to his eyes— and when he gripped Yara's hand with a death grip, flinching around a bit at it, the pain went away. Frying the nerve endings in that part of his arm, he knew and heard. Like the sound of something sizzling on a pan. That's what happens when you get burned like that.

The smell was the worst part. Ollie would never forget the smell of his burning flesh. It was one of those things that would be forever seared into his mind, irreparable.

It was so bad it was almost a taste. He could never find anything to compare it with. Like a smell of blood, or rotting meat, or burnt hair, or burning plastic— all mixed together, all trying to form some horrid fucking scent he'd never forget again in his life. Ollie was sure that the fear and heightened fight-or-flight was what made it hurt so much more than it actually did, because after those few seconds, it was over. Ollie was left with erratic breathing and tears streaming down his cheeks, making this whimpering sort of cry as he did. His lip quivered, and Yara was there soothing him, holding his hand and whispering to him.

Ollie didn't look down at it. He shut his eyes tight, he didn't want to process or accept at all what had just been done to him. He could feel Mallory apply something to the new wound as it secreted a gross plasma, putting on some kind of salve or something, and wrap it in cling wrap. And that was it.

It didn't feel like enough. Everything that had been done for the experience Ollie had just gone through felt so... little. Everything was still living, and breathing, and moving, and Ollie hadn't even processed any of it yet.

Why did everything get to keep going right now?

"You did so good," Mallory praised as he watched Ollie cry— out of pain, but also mostly frustration. He hated how he let this happen to himself. This was horrible, this was inhumane. He just wanted to go see Jasper right now, or Henry. He'd say Sovi, but he knew it wasn't an option. He wanted to melt into their arms, spill everything and make them accept the fact he couldn't do this anymore. That he just needed to go home.

How disappointed would the people he loved be if they saw Ollie like this?

Saw Ollie letting it happen?

"Yara, untie him," Mallory muttered as he kneeled in front of Ollie the same way he had earlier. Stop it, he wanted to seeth. Yell, scream. Stop doing that, stop trying to help me. Look at me, look at me truly, what have you done to me? What have you done?

"I am so proud of you, Orion," Mallory soothed, cupping Ollie's face in his hands and wiping a tear away with his thumb. Ollie wanted to spit in his face.

"You don't see it now, but you are a true child of Osiris."

Like fuck I am.

"You don't see it, but so many would kill to be in the position you are in right now. To be so connected and interlinked with those above. You have been reborn into a new person, a Next Life awaits you. And I promise you, it's worth it. You're a true believer— it will all be worth it for you.

Ollie nodded, sniffling a bit and trying to overcome to overwhelming urge to bitchslap this man now that his hands were free. He did take the opportunity to move Mallory's hands down from his face—fuck, it hurt to move that arm—and hold them, squeezing them tight and feigning affection.

"Thank you," he whispered through the tears, and Mallory smiled. A look Ollie wished he could get rid of so bad— a look that told Ollie he had no remorse. That this wasn't even remotely bad to him. This was just a step to Ollie's better connection with his newfound God and if it were by Ollie, he'd send himself to eternal damnation by now.

Even when everything was so spinning and confusing, he knew one thing for certain; this was fucking revolting.

It was all he could think about as Yara untied him and got him out of the lounge room. It felt like leaving as a different person. Even if everything Mallory had said was wrong, he was right about one thing; he had been reborn in that room tonight. A new person, but not in the way he would have ever wanted.

The walk with Yara was horrid. She'd lent him her jacket—a sage green zip-up with a rhinestone cross outlined on the chest—and under any other circumstances, Ollie might have appreciated it. Now, it just made him feel alone.

As they walked, Yara didn't really dare to say anything. She'd just seen her new friend in one of his most vulnerable moments since she's known him— fuck, one of the most vulnerable moments of his entire life. How was she even supposed to soothe him? Even if it was for the greater good, even if it was for the better, what was she meant to say to him? What was supposed to be said to aid him through it all?

"You turned the wrong corner," Ollie mumbled after a long bout of silence, making Yara turn to look at him. He hoped he didn't have to repeat it.

"Huh?"

"The corner," he repeated, not looking up at her. The taste of his flesh still sat foul in his mouth. Even if he certainly hadn't eaten any of that bullshit, it had been so strong that the oxygen intake only reminded him worse of how the smell lingered on his tongue. Reminiscent of what bit he'd let himself lose for this mission.

He stopped for a second, as if waiting for Yara to turn back with him. Yara stopped with him.

"You're supposed to turn right."

...?

What?

Oh!

Yara smiled a bit as she came to the realization of what Ollie was trying to say, giving a huff of laughter. Ollie gave a confused expression.

"We're not going to your place," she said, still with that look on her face. "We're going to mine."

"But- my place-- I mean, Henry-"

"I can explain to him where you've been."

*Huh?*

Ollie's brows furrowed a bit more now, genuinely conflicted. Almost angry. He wanted to be home— he needed to be home right now. That was the only safe place right now. His things, his family, his kid—

"You're just gonna... explain?"

"Yeah."

"You're going to explain to them how you let Mallory brand me while you watched," he deadpanned. "You think they're gonna be fucking fine with that?"

"Calm down.-"

"You don't get to tell me to calm down right now- you just let them fucking brand me!" Ollie exclaimed, tears stinging his eyes as he gestured somewhere further behind them, referencing the mall.

"And you stood there and watched, and it happened because I trusted you! I came with you because you said I'd be safe! You said I'd be safe with you, and now I'm really starting to doubt th—"

"Orion!"

Ollie paused at being cut off like that, fists curling. Yara stared at Ollie for a second, looking completely mad yet also... concerned for him. Like Ollie was saying something so wrong it was crazy, and that's exactly what she thought. It made him feel stupid, almost.

"Do you think they're going to be the ones to keep you safe after this?" She snapped, gesturing to the right— to Ollie's home.

"Do you think they're going to accept you now? Accept us?"

"Why wouldn't they?"

"Because the outsiders don't understand like we do! They don't fucking get it! They don't get you, and they don't get me, or Mallory, or anyone. Because people think we're crazy and honestly, I don't want to go back to that. I don't think I can go back to that!"

"You don't know them like I do," Ollie spat. "You don't know my family like I do."

"I used to think that too. I used to think that all I ever wanted was to keep my family safe in this godforsaken city. And I found Mallory, and I knew this was it. This was my key to helping them with anything they might need, because I knew them, right? I knew them better than anyone else! And then they fucking kicked me out for this. Called me crazy. Said there wasn't such thing as a Final Abolishment, that I was just gonna drag them under."

Yara took a breath. If Ollie had known better, he'd tell her that her parents were right.

"You don't- people don't like us out there, okay? People aren't like us. If they see that on your arm, if they see who you really are, they're going to ostracize you. And living on the streets in this city is bad, Orion. I'm saving you. I'm keeping you safe. That's why I asked you to pack your shit— trust me, they don't want you back."

Ollie paused. He contemplated the whole monologue— it's what Henry would do. It's what Henry would have wanted of him. To keep the mission alive, he could practically hear in the back of his head. Whatever it takes to keep this mission alive.

He nodded.

"What about Charlie?" he asked, and Yara gave a confused look.

"Who?"

"Charlie. My kid."

A silence.

"You have a-"

"I adopted her?"

More silence.

"Yara, my- she went to the Community Center? It's why I started going? Because she did??"

"Ooohh! Oh, I'll take care of it, don't worry."

Ollie's brows furrowed a bit, and he took a step forward.

"You're not going to just 'take care of it,'" he began, making Yara sort of look at him.

"You're going to bring her to me. If I'm really going to stay with you and not look back, if I'm really going to trust you in my Next Life, you're going to bring me my fucking kid."

"Okay. Okay, I'll bring you Charlie. But you have to come with me. Deal?"

He contemplated it. Something in the back of his head told him this wasn't the right choice. This was the worst possible option, this was walking into a series of traps upon traps— he had to call Sovi. Right now, the move was to call Sovilo and go home. There was a way out of this, and the way out was right now.

Still, Ollie shook Yara's hand.

"Deal."

It might have been the worst decision he's made in his entire life.

[diludae]

Kind of an odd one, but could I request a scenario with Diluc's s/o trying to (hilariously, but unsuccessfully) matchmake Adelinde and Elzer on Valentine's Day, and Diluc has to intervene before the antics get too out of hand?

𝓣𝓸 𝓜𝓪𝓽𝓬𝓱𝓶𝓪𝓴𝓮 𝓪 𝓜𝓪𝓲𝓭 (𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓪 𝓑𝓾𝓽𝓵𝓮𝓻 𝓽𝓸𝓸!)

I had a lot fun writing this, but I might've gone a tad-off prompt. I apologize!

diluc x gn!reader // fluff/comedy // anon suggestion // enjoy <3

They were absolutely perfect for each other.

Or at least, in your mind they were perfect.

The way in which Elzer so graciously offers his hand to Adelinde to help with laundry, or when they constantly compliment each others work, or the way they always walk home together during the dead of night, or-

Maybe you thought about the two employees a little too often.

But as the early-February wind blew throughout the vineyard, you could practically smell love kindling in the air. You were of course busy with countless dates prepared by the wine tycoon himself, your loving and always doting boyfriend of 2 years, Diluc Ragnvindr. However, this Valentines, you wished on a fallen star that maybe you and ‘Luc wouldn’t be the only ones celebrating at the winery.

To be honest, you really had no idea why Adelinde and Elzer’s non-existent love life meant so much to you. Perhaps you had finally felt the joy of being with someone you truly love, and wanted to share that delightful experience with others. Maybe a teeny-little part of you wanted to take credit for matchmaking such a beautiful bride and groom at their eventual wedding. Whatever the case was, you wanted to see them together no later than the fourteenth. You could never let the once-a-year love season pass such an adoring and pining future spark.

It started with small, not-so-subtle hints. Elzer and Adelinde were surprisingly quite oblivious to the increase in tasks they had to perform together by the end of the day. Along with participating in their daily activities, the two found themselves spending their time assisting one another with paperwork and dusting. It wasn’t long before the Master of the estate took notice of the odd tasks his darling Y/n filed for requests.

“Love, could I… speak with you for a moment?”

You wondered what he could possibly need to speak with you about. I mean, he has been slightly needy with the rise of couples filling the streets, but there wasn’t anything you two couldn’t handle.

As you walked with him towards your bedroom you noticed the slight awkward tone in his movements. The way he only ever-so-slightly fidgeted with his gloves, or the look in his eyes holding one of embarrassment. He kindly opened the bedroom door and gestured you inside.

“I’ve seen the tasks you’ve been assigning to Adelinde and Elzer. My dear, do you care to explain?”

Shit.

“Well, I- I mean it’s like only slightly a little complicated..” Diluc could hear you trailing out your incoherent response with slews of “uh’s” and awkward chuckles.

“Now, this is a complete guess, but would I be correct to assume you’re trying to… get them together?”

While your mouth remained silent, your bright red face communicated all that needed to be said.

“My love,” Diluc grabbed a hold of your waist and gently pulled you down to the bed. He nuzzled his face in your hair as you wrapped your arms around him. “You really shouldn’t be meddling with other people’s business, you know.” “I get it, I get it.” Your voice was muffled as Diluc held your head against his broad chest. “But also, they just seem so cute and fluffy together. I’m not sure, maybe I’m in over my head, but I deeply enjoy the time I spend with you. So, I thought it would be cool if maybe other people could have that same feeling of warmth with someone they also love..”

Diluc’s expression was unreadable, yet his grip around your body tightening spoke for him. A kiss was planted on your forehead as you felt the bed’s covers reaching over the two of you. “I sincerely thank you for your affection, liebling. Get some rest. We’ll talk more about this in the morning”

If only you two had noticed the mischievous maid and butler listening in from outside the door, giggling at your less than stellar attempt, yet still touched by the action.

[savemewattpad]

Wicked and Divine: Part 1, Chapter 2

all her life, she’s bound to lose…

Summary:

When John Winchester gets a call from a thirteen-year-old girl claiming to be his daughter, he and Dean go to investigate, bringing them into a complicated web woven by a charismatic cult leader named David Elwood–who also claims to be the girl’s “husband.”

Or, how Esther Smith became Leila Winchester.

Chapter Summary: Dean and John attend a cult meeting.

Warnings: Sexual Abuse, Religious Abuse, Cults, Child Marriage, Pregnancy, Miscarriage

Pairings: None

Last Chapter | Next Chapter | Masterlist

Read on AO3

There’s a tension in the silence between John and his son as they sit on opposite sides of the diner booth. It’s this endless loop of quiet understanding: Dean isn’t happy to learn about his father’s dalliance. John knows he’s not happy. Dean knows John knows he’s not happy, and John knows Dean knows that John knows that he’s not happy. And nothing is said about it. 

The diner they’ve found themselves in is crowded with the breakfast rush, and Dean is pensive as he stares out the window. John can’t fault him; he’s just found out he may or may not have another sibling who may or may not be in danger.

If John wasn’t as good at compartmentalizing as he is, he’d be consumed with the same topic of thought. He is that good at compartmentalizing, though, and he flips through the newspaper as they wait for the waitress to take their order.

John’s mind is always on alert, always making connections, and he often has to scan his own thoughts for paranoia, to discern whether the alarms going off in his mind are a real sign of a case or just the result of living the way he has for fifteen years. The obituary section has the alarm ringing. Multiple mysterious deaths from the last few months, all young. A few cops, an FBI agent, a reporter or two. All died of hypothermia. 

One thing at a time, he tells himself. 

The diner is in Carolina, Oregon. It’s the same place he met Melisa Candan almost fifteen years ago. He chose a booth on the opposite side of the diner. It’s the paranoia again. Part of him thinks something about that case must have been cursed. 

The waitress arrives, middle-aged but energetic. “Good morning, boys, what can I get you?” Two black coffees, two classic breakfasts, burn the bacon for John’s. She leaves. The coffees come a few minutes later, and within minutes John’s mind is awake and thinking clearly. 

The obituary observation was not paranoia, he feels, and then sets it aside. One thing at a time.

“Woodscross,” he says without preamble. “What did she mean by Woodscross?”

“Maybe she was wrong about what state she’s in. Is there a Woodscross in Washington, maybe?”

John shakes his head. He’s actually not sure that there’s not; he just knows that he never met a woman named Melisa in Washington. It has to be near Carolina. Too much of a coincidence otherwise.

“Maybe there’s a street called Woodscross,” John muses. 

“What’s this about Woodscross?” the waitress asks as she sets their food down. John doesn’t get snuck up on easily. Maybe he’s not as good at compartmentalizing as he thought, at least when it comes to this. 

Dean looks up at her, smiling charmingly. “We got a call from a friend asking us to meet him there,” he lies easily. John wishes, not for the first time, that he could’ve given his son a life where he didn’t have to learn to lie so well. “Do you happen to know where it is?”

“The only Woodscross around here is the Gibborim community that lives out in the woods.”

“Gibborim?” Dean repeats incredulously. “That new-age cult?” And then John remembers the Gibborim bible on Melisa’s nightstand. Of course. How could he not realize? 

Well…he knows why. Over the past fourteen years, on the rare occasion that Melisa Candan has crossed his mind, he’s always assumed–hoped–that she’d made it out of Gibborim. The cult had reached its peak in the mid-nineties, and most sects had died out by the new millenia. 

Apparently not all of them, though.

The waitress shakes her head. “This is an offshoot. They’re more old-fashioned. And I wouldn’t call it a cult around them, but…”

“Where can we find Woodscross?” John asks her, trying not to sound as urgent as he feels. 

“It’s about ten miles north into the woods by Clinton street,” the waitress replies. “You have to go off the trail about five miles in. But between you and me? I’d call your friend and ask to meet somewhere else.”

John and Dean look at each other. 

“Can you bring us the check?” John asks. 

The ground is surprisingly level even off-trail, and they find Woodscross late that afternoon. It’s almost militaristic looking, surrounded by tall fences with barbed wire at the top, a stark contrast to the wood cabins, gardens, and farmland inside. 

When they reach the gates, the guards ask their names. They’re dressed in handmaid clothes, but John can tell they’re carrying guns. 

Dean opens his mouth to give them their current aliases, but John’s instincts advise otherwise, and he gets in before Dean can speak. “John and Dean Winchester,” he says, ignoring the look his son shoots him. “We were hiking. New to the area, got lost a few hours ago.”

He expects them to give his directions back to the road, to have to push back on that and ask for more help. Instead, one of the guards runs into the compound to “ask for guidance.” When he returns, he’s not alone. 

John knows he’s the man in charge even before he identifies himself as such. He’s tall and thin, with gray hair and military posture and an unsettling calm about him. 

“Hello,” he says, in a voice that feels smoother than it should be. “I’m David Elwood. I hear you’ve had trouble navigating the woods?” He holds out a hand. John shakes it, and then Dean does the same. 

“You heard right. Would it be an imposition if we stayed and rested awhile? It’s been a long day.” John smiles in a sort of apologetic aw-shucks way. 

“A long and hot day. I imagine you must be hungry, too. We have a church service starting soon, you’re welcome to attend; after that, you can join us for dinner, and then we’ll drop you off back in town, if you’d like.”

Cars, guns, phones–they’re not averse to using technology when it suits them. John files it away for future reference. 

“That’s mighty kind of you,” he says. 

The church is another log cabin, but this one with a steepled roof covered in solar panels. The service is strange and Dean understands, now, why they call Gibborim a cult. David’s sermon is vague and emotionally charged all at once, emphasizing obedience without specifying what that entails. It’s about Jesus, and about David himself–their prophet, their leader, God’s servant–and sometimes it seems like David might be hinting at aliens. 

There’s a girl in a chair behind the pulpit, scribbling something in a book. She’s got dark, curly hair and olive skin, with two beauty marks, one above and one below the side of her mouth. She’s clearly young, fourteen at the absolute most. Too young to be as pregnant as she is. And as hard as Dean tries to pay attention to everything else going on, trying to file away as much information as possible for later, his attention keeps coming back to her. There are angry red marks on her wrists, barely visible below the sleeve of her shirt. 

Dean doesn’t realize the service has ended until people around him start standing up. John stands, too, and then Dean follows his lead, but his eyes don’t move from the girl behind the pulpit. David goes over to her, takes her hand and guides her to her feet, and kisses her on the forehead. Then he gestures towards Dean and his father, and the girl turns wide, curious brown eyes onto them. 

David leads her over to them. “Gentlemen, this is Esther Elwood. She’s my wife and helpmeet.” He has this smile on his face–calm, small, casual, but it feels like he’s daring them to object to their marriage, to her pregnancy, to her age. 

Dean can tell John is seething with as much rage as he is. He stays calm. Dean follows his lead. But he could swear that David can tell they’re angry, that he’s delighting in it. 

John smiles and extends a hand. “It’s very nice to meet you, Esther,” he says. “I’m John Winchester. This is Dean.”

Something clicks in Esther’s dark eyes. Recognition, and something like hope. This is the girl.

“I’m sorry, women aren’t allowed physical contact with men outside of their families,” David says apologetically. “You understand.”

That’s not a woman, that’s a child. 

“Entirely. My apologies, I didn’t mean to offend.”

“Not at all,” David says. Then he looks down at the girl. “Go ahead.”

Esther smiles a little. “This is for you,” she says quietly, and holds out the book she was writing in to John. The marks around her wrist are more marked close up, and they look like rope burns to Dean. It doesn’t escape his notice, either, that this is the first sentence Esther has said to them directly. He wonders if that’s how it always is, David speaking for her, or if David is creating a wall between his “wife” and the outsiders. 

John takes the book, careful not to let their fingers brush. It’s a Gibborim bible. 

“Thank you, Esther,” John says politely. “That’s very kind of you.”

“You’re welcome,” she says, again in that soft, hesitant voice. 

David looks down at her. “Go and study with the other women,” he says. Esther nods and looks at John and Dean. “It was very nice to meet you both,” she says politely, and then leaves. 

“You’re welcome to join us for the Patriarch’s class,” David tells them. “We usually have dinner after that.” It doesn’t escape Dean’s notice that this isn’t the original plan he’d invited them into. 

“That sounds just fine,” John says, and Dean nods, following his lead. 

David leaves to go talk to the other church-goers, and Dean finds himself watching him. Something about him feels sinister, like at any moment he could pull the rug from under their feet in a way they’d never see coming.

“Dean,” John says, and Dean’s attention snaps back to his father. “Look.”

John is holding the Gibborim bible open casually, like he’s just curious about it, but Dean can tell that he’s seething again. He looks down at the book.

The words “HELP ME” are written in large, childish handwriting on the first page. 

[your-highnessmarvel]

cotton candy | s.riley

CHAPTER TWO

Pairing: Simon Riley aka Ghost x Original female character

Warnings: Rated M for Mature. Violence. Gore. Eventual smut. Language. Mentions of abuse. Ghost being Ghost. Dub-con. 

Chapter Summary: After watching her friends die, Laura is taken back to base with Ghost, but not after causing him some slight annoyance.

A/N: Character build up. SLOW BURN. So here I am with chapter 2. what an accomplishment. seriously, this man has me by the throat, day n night!

Masterlist

Taglist: Open

Will be posting on AO3. 

Chapter two:

Bangkok, June 16th 2022, Operation Prince

Everything just happened so God damn fast. Ben meeting this weird dude with a tiger tattoo on his neck, who invited us to his private lounge. And then Ben, ecstatic as always, dragging us all to this weird part of the city that was definitely not for tourists!

And then... Ben's head snapping back, quick as lightning, blood spraying from his hair as his body thudded awkwardly to the ground. His hands had curled in such strange claws. And then Nora went down similarly, and I didn't have the time to gasp, a scream lodged between my ribs, that Jack was shot right through the eye.

And what came next, a shadow peeling from the darkness, slamming me against the ground, a gut wrenching scream being sucked out of me. Across the dust motes clinging to the setting sun rays, a cacophony of bullets, pulling chunks from the drywall, as I was dragged.

His face. A mask, a skull. Something dark, like tar or charcoal, smeared across his eyes to darken his gaze. And that glare, cold as ice, reaching into my throat and freezing the yell from within my lungs.

I'd never been so fucking afraid in my life.

Of course I ran.

If a masked man came charging at you from the shadows, after your three friends were shot to death before your very eyes, you would have run too. Don't try and fucking lie to me.

I thought I was quick, skidding across the pebbles on the ground, finding a door to slither through. But of course, he'd found me. Shadows stick to the darkness, pulling victims into the abyss.

And now, he was waiting with me in some damp field, bruising my bicep in his grasp. Above me, the sky was littered with stars thrown across the bruised-black darkness like sugar.

The air was humid, heavy, hanging in my lung like a ton of bricks, curling my hair. The cuts on my shoulder and neck were throbbing.

"How much longer?" I asked.

He turned and looked down at me. I met his glare. His eyes were so dark, so empty and devoid of any emotion, that a shiver snapped from the base of my spine all the way up to the back of my head. I noticed the way his gaze flicked down to my neck and then back to my eyes.

I'd noticed his wandering gaze even before, when he was pulling me through the streets. He'd stopped and looked back, lingering on my hands, my mouth, my neck way too long to be an assessing glance.

"A few minutes," he answered. British. Rough, deep voice with a tinge of hurt lingering on every octave. It made goosebumps pepper my flesh.

He also seemed to be talking to someone else sometimes, and by his military uniform, I just deduced it was some kind of communication system.

"I don't have to held, you know," I mumbled.

His head snapped back to me, mask giving no inch to what he was thinking, what he was feeling.

"I'm aware."

"Then let me go."

"Can't do that, I'm afraid."

I tugged harshly on his grip, surprising him, but not enough to loosen his digits from their bruising hold on my skin.

Roughly, quickly, ripping breath from my lungs, he pulled me flush against him. "Behave," he warned, the sound rumbling deep within his chest.

I was awkwardly pressed up against his tactical vest, the many pockets filled with an amalgamation of weaponry and ammunition. And under that, his bullet proof vest. And under that, layers and layers and layers of ice over his cold, dead heart... I suppose.

I looked up, jerking my head to move a strand of hair out of my eyes. "I'm not going to run, sir," I tried, and his gaze wavered for a split second, flicking down to my mouth. "I just witnessed my... friends being killed." I tried to get that feeling back, that hole that dug into my chest and pulled a terrified scream from me. I tried to get my lower lip to tremble, frowning, watering my eyes.

He grunted, tugging on my arm, wrenching a groan from me. "That's not going to work, princess," he said. "You can't play pretty with me."

I huffed, pushing on his chest to put distance between us. "I didn't do anything wrong," I said.

"No," he answered. "But you're the only one whose seen Alvarez and lived to tell the tale. Thanks to me."

I opened my mouth, but he tugged on my arm again, hushing me.

"Ow," I whispered.

In the distance, a low, rhythmic whump whump rose above the tall grass. 

“I’m going to catch a tick,” I protested as he dragged me through the plain. 

The helicopter hovered above the horizon, buzzing its way until it landed a few yards before us. My hair flew back, the wind pulling at all my clothing, and as this man dragged me to the helicopter, I was forced to go along.

Inside, a woman waited. I barely had the time to register her seemingly normal attire before the man pushed me down into a seat. The door closed, and this man crouched to tie me up. His hands glanced across my thighs, raising a trail of fire as I watched his gloved digits tie the straps around my shoulders, down to the lock at my waist. 

He glanced up quickly, assessing my gaze, which was probably round in horror because I’ve never taken a helicopter in my life. Briefly, almost endearingly, he reached up, his thumb brushing swiftly across my lower lip. 

I stared at him, at those impossibly dark eyes behind the mask, at the way he lingered his gaze in mine a few seconds longer than he should. The way fire seemed to blaze in his irises, his brows furrowing slightly, as his thumb left my mouth and he got up quickly. He took a seat across from me, the woman to his right. 

She looked at me and nodded, but I was caught between terror and surprise, and as the heli lifted off into the air, I was in suspense. 

To be honest, I was fighting nausea and the pressure in my ears the entire journey, which was pretty short. And by the time the man was unbuckling me, I was probably green and pale all at once. When I stood, dizzy and silent, he wrapped a hand around my waist and another under my knees, effortlessly picking me up. 

Somewhere during the trip, he’d taken his tactical and bulletproof vests off, and my head rested against a firm, warm chest as he carried me off the helicopter. The woman followed behind, but I was fighting not to puke and/or pass out, so the sound of her boots on the tarmac did not register. Only the sound of this strange man’s breathing and the warmth seeping through the fabric of his uniform. His arms held he so effortlessly, momentarily squeezing me closer to him every few seconds.

I swayed in his arms. The woman was talking to me, but with my eyes closed, curled up against his chest, smelling something between cologne and a unique human smell, I couldn’t process a word she was saying. 

Only when the man above me rumbled my name did I look up. He knew my name?

“Laura, is it?” the woman asked. 

I squinted, nodded, and then nuzzled back against his chest. 

“My name is Kate Laswell,” she said, and she opened a door to a building. “I’m the station chief for this military operation. Ghost and I are taking you to the infirmary. Are you hurt anywhere else?”

I smirked. Of course this guy’s military nickname was Ghost. “I’m fine,” I said. 

“We’re still taking you in for observation.”

She led the way through a short hallway, lined with metallic frames and a few other doors, but otherwise very, very bare. When she finally got to a double door, she pushed it open to expose the internal workings of a military base infirmary. 

Ghost put me down - surprisingly - gently onto a cot, and I sat, gripping the edges to stop my head from spinning off my shoulders.

The woman - Laswell - sat beside me, putting a gentle hand on my back. “Sweetheart, you’re not in any danger,” she said, easing the quiet, rumbling fire of fear slowly gaining vengeance in my chest. “You’re on a small, pop-up military base, heavily guarded. I really want you to know you’re safe.”

“Okay.” I didn’t know what else to say.

She was quiet for a few seconds, and when I opened my eyes, Ghost was gone. Wow, surprising.

“I’m going to ask you something,” Laswell continued, taking my wrist gingerly into her palm. A man came to my other side quickly, dressed in a white lab coat, scrubs, and a mask. His eyes crinkled, smiling. “What I’m going to say might sound crazy, even stupid to you, but hear me out.”

The doctor took my pressure, the band sore on my skin where Ghost’s fingers were surely imprinted. 

I nodded absentmindedly at Laswell.

“The man that had your friends killed, Alvarez, you said you saw him?” she asked. I nodded again. “Is there something particular about him that you can tell me?”

“He has a tiger tattoo on his neck with big red eyes and a ridiculous gold chain,” I answered, watching as the doctor tore free a few alcohol swabs.

Laswell tensed. “That’s him.” A few beats of silence passed as the swabs were pressed along the scratches and burns on my shoulder. I hissed, clutching the edge of the bed again. “Look, Laura. You’re not safe leaving the base as long as Alvarez lives.”

My neck hurt with how fast I turned to look at her. 

Her blue eyes widened for a split second. “We’re working around the clock to catch him, Miss.” She forced a smile. “But you’re the only one who can identify him. Now, I can’t force an American civilian to stay here, but I can strongly advise you do. My taskforce has plans in place, controls and protocols to root him out. But he’s elusive. He has body doubles pose as him. His own men would eat an entire mag of bullets before they ever tell us where he is or what he looks like. And everyone, every undercover agent, every spy, has been killed once they’ve seen his face. The only reason why we know he has that tattoo is because of one of our own, risking his life to infiltrate Alvarez’s compound, and just before being shot, he made a final communication.”

By the time she was done, my shoulder and neck were patched up, and I was sat, the floor barreling towards me, my head aching and pounding, my chest  weighed down by the force of death that had surrounded me. 

I was tired, afraid, on unknown ground with unknown people, and my trust meter had run out a few miles back.

“I just wanna go home,” I mumbled, feeling a sob claw its way up my throat, my eyes watering. 

Laswell nodded, looking up at the doctor, pressing a hand on my back again. Her fingers were cold. 

“Rest a bit in here,” she said, obviously disappointed. “You’re safe in here. I promise.”

I looked up at her. “Okay.”

She pinched her lips, nodded, and stood. “I’ll have my men check up on you,” she said, but her entire demeanor had changed from coaxing to military cold. She hadn’t gotten what she wanted. “Please let me know fast if you’re willing to help us. But please, by all means, remain here. You even step a foot outside, and you’ll be hunted.”

I nodded and watched as she left. I was handed a thick, scratchy blanket and told to lay back on a plush pillow. Before the doctor had left after shining a light in my eyes, I was already drifting off, my body’s tension melting into the cot beneath me. But my head, my dreams, the world behind my closed lids was plagued by the sight of my friends being shot, of their blood coating the underside of my shoes, and a tall shadow pulling me into the dark.

[kwangyadetective]

🏁 Ay-Yo: Lore Elements and Thoughts

First theory post of 2023!!! But the reason why I am not writing this as an official theory is because... I’m confused😭 I remember saying I have some thoughts about Ay-Yo but after some thinking... it just doesn’t add up.

Looking at the MV itself, it feels like this Repackage, the MV is more towards aesthetic than lore? Plus even Dream’s Repackage Beatbox doesn’t really add up to the story in Glitch Mode. So it might be safe to say that Repackage MVs don’t exactly have a connection? Well either way, I have decided that If I want to write a full theory, I’d rather wait for their next comeback. BUTT if maybe a new idea came to mind so of course I will make another post.

Initially I wanted to draw some ideas from the term ‘Valhalla’ since they mentioned it a lot and it stands out.

“It is described as a majestic hall located in Asgard and presided over by the god Odin. Half of those who die in combat enter Valhalla, while the other half are chosen by the goddess Freyja to reside in Fólkvangr. (Wikipedia)

“The idea of an afterlife in Valhalla was a strong motivating force for the Vikings, especially before they went into battle, because only the fallen warriors that the god Odin deemed worthy and brave enough could reach Valhalla.“ (Encyclopedia Britannia)

In short, it is like heaven for the heroes. At first I thought maybe like this is where the Neos go after they faced the snake in 2Baddies, but looking at the MV, the overall look and aesthetics just don’t make sense. Shouldn’t the place look more heavenly? Less futuristic and their clothes look too street.

With that out of the way, lets just jump into the elements

1. Wormhole

It was mentioned in the lyrics.

“I pass through the wormhole”

A wormhole isn’t something new in the Neos lore. Essentially it took them from one place to another, or the dream world to the Reality. In their past contents, I don’t remember them using it if they were to travel from Dream to Reality UNLESS when it was NCT2020 since it involves way more people. Plus that’s a different story than the usual Dream-Reality back and forth traveling. My speculation is that, it might be needed for another NCT union project, whether its this year or next year.

2. Dream-Red and Reality-Blue

If you look into that room where Johnny and Yuta were in the MV, it changes colors from Blue to Red. When ithe light was Red, you can see that the members were doing abnormal things like floating or walking in air. This is because in the Dream world you have more possibilities and free while in Reality, you are restricted. This is a common idea since 2018 of the color associations. It makes sense too why there are many Red in the MV because they are in a Dream.

3. Jaehyun

Jaehyun definitely has an important role because he was in the snake’s grasp. Thought I’m not very sure of why he is wearing a suit, wore some sunglasses, and was walking around in the MV. I just think they could make him do more things to continue the story? This is why I think this MV is more on aesthetics.

4. Doyoung and Jungwoo Synchronizing

It really reminds me of their YearDream Resonance video and yes. Jungwoo and Doyoung were even seen together in Favorite and I can see that they are in alliance. The closest thought I have to a storyline is that the two are communicating and are aware of what’s happening with the others from 2Baddies. They might be thinking of a way of rescuing them. But this is what I have so far since there aren’t any more actions yet. At the very least, they know something and are communicating.

5. Ripples/Sound waves

Specifically, if you look at this timestamp 2:12, there are two that are colliding(?) with one another. These are sound waves, I have once explained it in another post, basically each neo has these vibrations in the Dream world and when they collide, it creates even bigger vibrations like a chain reaction. It means that they are resonating. Read more about this on 📡 United: Conclusion to NCT2021 and NCT2020.

Conclusion

The MV seems like just a general concept of how their lore works, that is if you already know how it goes😭 Again, the story isn’t that clear. I’m not saying I don’t like it either, I love Ay-Yo after all. But visuals-wise, their approach is different in this Repackage. ESPECIALLY their photoshoot. We’ll see how the story continues in their next comeback... hopefully..

[yanitoooo]

So I was contacted by my ex boyfriend from 2015, he’s now in prison (not sure why), but he was kool in my eyes, although he came with certain bullshit. Anywaysssss…..let’s get into this wild ass shit yo🙄🤦🏽‍♀️

The ex hit me on FB messenger tryna check the temperature and of course I was shocked to hear from him, being that his homie told me back in 2017, that ex boo got locked up again. Mind you when I met him, he let me know he just got home from a 5yr bid. How we met it was cute how he approached me, he was very respectful, fine af, tall and dark just how I like em😋. We exchanged numbers and went about our night, but of course he was on it…he texted me fast and wanted to get to know me, asked what neighborhood I was from. So boom…we chatting, he called and was like he wanna see me and allat good stuff. I gave him the addy of the next neighborhood over from mine. I never give people my addy off rip, tf I’m too street smart.

He finally hit me with a text saying he’s outside, I walked up with my sister and the vibes was right after interacting with dude.

Fast forwarding tho to when we got super kool and spending a lot of time with each other, I’m saying he was the perfect guy for me on top of money not being an issue. But as time passed, he would be slacking up on time spend and it was days I’d have to work or hang with friends, he wasn’t tryna hear that tho. He was on demon time and wasn’t tryna lose me, so he started coming back around after 2 weeks of straight no communication…I’m an Aries female so it’s easy for us to cut ties, no matter how bad it may hurt. He hit me saying he needs me and that we need to talk about us. We linked up same day, because I dead don’t play about my man LOL. Dude had crutches 🩼😩….he done got into some drama and ended in a shootout, he got hit in one of his legs, not sure what happened to the opps, but it made sense as to why he wasn’t reaching out as much, he lemme know he wanted to protect me, because it wasn’t safe. We had bomb sex all the time, so when 2 weeks of not having each other…we got to it on his bad leg and it was still fire 🔥 lol

The kind of person I am, if I got it to help I will help and do what I can. I ended up paying for his haircuts, food, got him a new phone just so he can back on the right path and tried to motivate him to stay out the streets and get a job, even paid for the rental.

Man this mf never returned me my deposit from the rental, I wasn’t tripping but yeah you gotta at least tell me what’s up! A month and a half went by and dude literally was ghost. Once again I didn’t stress it, I missed him but was low key tight, because I’m helping a person who not keeping it real! He ended up calling me from another phone number and telling me he didn’t call because he needed that money to help pay bills at his homie krib. Idgaf my nigga you gotta tell me that or I’ll lose respect for ya! Which I did, but me being 21 at the time, I wasn’t even tripping how I should’ve, but yeah. I was doing me and couldn’t even care anymore 😂 .

So present time he’s been locked up for 7yrs now, I’m chatting with him on JPay and accepting calls after he done put his mom on me to do a 3 way call. We started reminiscing, I let him know what’s new with me and that I moved and got a family now. Conversations was smooth, but of course I know guys talk a good one from the slammer lmao. After 2 weeks of conversing, he asks for a favor ( knew it was coming), wanting to know if I can put some bread up for a move so he can make more, he explained he needed to take care of his kids. So I asked him how many bms does he have knew, because he only had 2 when I was with him….this man says5🫤🫤🫤…I almost spit my drink out while we was on the phone, his energy did switch because he know I’m looking at him crazy in my head. He said can I cashapp somebody so they get this operation going, I did because I was like damn dude might really need help with whatever he’s dealing with. (The backstory from what he told me was crazy, sad, & wild). He thanked me for sending that kite, but also said money will be coming back to me and I said that’s kool too. I trusted him on last time although initially I didn’t want it paid back, but I’m not gonna say nah don’t give it back lol.

Mother’s Day week just passed and I was occupied with my family and he kept blowing my phone up collect call and of course im too busy to answer which I told him the weekend before. Tell me why he gave mad people my number and Facebook name to try to contact me to see if I’m good and I told them tell him yeah. Then shortly afrer his peoples saying “so and so said can you send the money to this cash tag $______”… I’m like what money (it’s my bread wtf). I just ignored them. Then he his mom comes texting saying I better send her son his money because she’s on a fixed income and he was recently transported to another prison (not really my problem, but I get it’s frustrating). I told that lady what it was, she was appauld. I had to block him and gotta stop having a good heart for ppl, especially ones who showed themselves in the beginning.

[its-little-ohme]

Walter O’Brien x Male Oc- Sharpshooter pt.1

Word count: 1071

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"You should know that taking 5ᵗʰ street decreases your eta by 2 minutes."

The car I've been watching for the last hour takes the next right onto the road that would take it to the 5th street route. "There we go, now I'll be able to see yalls happy faces all that sooner. See you at the garage." I climbed down the fire escape to slip through the window into the garage, otherwise known as the scorpion headquarters. I couldn't help the cheshire like grin I had plastered on my face, which was noticed by Sylvester who sat at his desk analysing the equipment the team and I had been testing.

"Judging by the expression on your face, I would say the comminicator worked."

"Not only did it work, it had a farther reach then I could have predicted. Who knew car radios could

be so susceptible to my scrap radio's frequency. It makes you think how possible it would be to

cast a higher frequency able to be picked up by

more cars giving way for stalkers to talk to their pray."The Scorpion team and I had been working on a one way radio to allow me to communicate with their transport of choice without the possibility of someone listening in, like the possibility is with cellular devices. "Do us a favor Thomas, and don't let your morbid sense of humor get us in trouble." Toby strolled in, with the rest of the gang behind him, back from their drive.

"I make no promises Dr.Curtis,"I reply, the corners of my mouth inching higher up on my face. "I'll make sure to give the Fbi a heads up for a potential future stalker." "Oh come on Cabe, don't down-play me like that, I'm already a stalker, keeping my eyes on both you and our wonderful band of misfits."

"You call us the misfits, but somehow you are the strangest of us all." Happy, uncharacteristly like her name sake had a smile of her own growing. "Happy, You flatter me. Now someone tell me, how clear was the signal? Did the connection get fuzzy around towers, hospitals? Did you try changing the station? If so-"

"Thomas I need you to scope for our next mission, I'll bring you the data on the radio as soon as it's typed." And there was Walter. The leader of Scorpion, with the fourth highest IQ in the world, and the reason any of us are here today. He brought in people that others cast aside, who excelled in certain things, and because of that, make them a vital part of the team.Their special qualities goes as followed. Walter O' Brian: The brain of all tricks. He could think himself out of a metal box, screwed shut, that is if he wasn’t afraid of tight spaces.

Dr. Tobias Curtis: The personality detector, a puppy of a man who has the most personality out of all of us. His blind spot? Happy Quinn of course the focus of most of his thoughts.

Happy Quinn: Our mechanical expert who is as tough as nails, with a personality of steel. Don’t let her do the emotional stuff a mission might require, you won’t get far.

Sylvester Dodd: Our Tech expert the man behind the chair, he may be physically weaker than the rest but his brain is no joke when it comes to cracking codes.

But of course we also have our supporters,

Cabe Gallo: The former Fbi agent who takes care of our back when were in potential physical harm. He's also the one who gives us government tasks which gives us a pay-check.

Paige Dineen:The literal mother of the group. and the emotional backbone to our otherwise logical group.

Ralph Dineen: Son of Paige and the youngest genius to grace the garage. Scorpion has taken him under our wing in order to give him the support none of us had when growing up.

And me, well I'm the sharpshooter, mastering in

long distance mathematical problems, and the lookout for the team whenever they go out on missions.

"Hmm? Another mission already huh? Well alright what do you need me to do? "Walter began towards the stairs," follow me, and Cabe come with, you'll give Thomas the play by play." Cabe grunted, and both of us followed Walter to the white board on the second level.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Nothing beats basking in the sun expecially on a day like this where there is a bit of wind cooling the sweat that starts to firm on my brow. The sky is a dazzling, radient beacon of energy and warmth, I have to close my eyes in order to take it all in. It's all interrupted when my radio starts up.

"Thomas we need an exit." Walter's voice comes

through, and I'm reluctant to focus on anything other than the rays of the sun, so I fumble for the radio with one arm, the other covering my face.

"Roger, looks like there's a window on each floor of this building your in, pick one and jump!"

"Thomas, Tobias is being questioned by security, they haven't spotted me yet, but it's a matter of time before they catch on that we're not supposed to be here, distract them."

With a sigh I roll on to my stomach and start fiddling with the scope of my rifle. Spotting Tobias in a window on the far right I also see that

three more security agents are making their way over. "Three more on your way Walter, I'm going to have to make a little noise." I find a fire alarm that doesn't have anybody near and set up my shot, but then I'm forceably rolled over and a rag is shoved into my face, while my arms are restrained by my side. I'm fighting to get out of this stranger's grasp, but my breath gets heavy which causes me to inhale what ever chemical they put on this damn rag. My vision starts to blur, but before I pass out I make out the static of the radio as one of the men apart of this attack picks it up appearing to speak to Walter on the other side. Walter, and Tobias are now by themselves about to be captured, and there is nothing I can do to help them or myself. That's my last thought as my world goes dark.

[husbandohunter]

You want Vitamin F, then let me supply you one;

Genshin boys transform into cats.

A Furry Predicatment [Cat Genshin Impact x Gn!Reader]

♤♡◇♧☆

Synopsis: Venturing to Springvale the boys inhale the fairy dust that turns people into cats, now they must endure the consequences.

Characters: Diluc, Kaeya, Xiao, Albedo, Zhongli, Childe, Venti

(A/n): My student just sent me a video of her cat. I think thats a sign anon. This was meant to be written. part 2 here :P

=======================

[Diluc]

The grumpy cat (to no one's surprise) who wears the same iconic frown with the same matching gloomy eyes. He's grumpy about this outcome in particular, plus the fact he can't even voice his frustrations except for meowing noises and the endless craving for raw fish. RAW, how despicable.

The maids were looking for Master Diluc except that he was already there...in your arms. Just like his hair, his fur is the fluffiest as if he were a gigantic ball of hilichurl hair. You would nuzzle your face into it because he just feels so warm!

Absolutely will NOT live like a cat. The uncrowned king of Mondstadt refuses to drink water from a bowl. He cannot eat anything unless you feed him with utensils. NO, no he will not shove his mouth into the plate, its uncultured and unsanitary.

He never though taking baths would be so nerve-wracking (cat instincts). It was terrible, choosing between the feeling of water against his body or licking his paws to clean himself (a much more comfortable choice). This kind of lifestyle was miserable.

~xx~

[Kaeya]

The mischievious cat (oh no) cue pink panther music, he's the Tom with Jerry's brains. Unlike Diluc, Kaeya will ultimately fall into his cat instincts and somehow uses it to his advantage.

You bet he's gonna spy on people. At night he would jump upon the rooftops to peek through Goth Grand Hotel's windows (watching closely at the Fatui), until the Darknight Hero comes in. Diluc knows it's Kaeya, it's rather uncanny how he does it, hence the cat runs away immediately.

The type to lick you upon contact. You think this was a quirk that came with the spell but he was actually doing it on purpose. Usually targets the neck because he could get a reaction out of you (ohoho you're tickilish there eh?)

As he is roaming out on the streets, always manages to escape the dogs. Kaeya knows his way around the city like the back of his hand, he enjoys watching them bark endlessly while he licks his paws in a mocking manner. Until one of them hopped up, now things got tricky. Basically Kaeya gets himself to alot of trouble as a cat, the worst part was when a bunch of kids started to join in too.

~xx~

[Xiao]

The fiesty cat (he was always a fiesty cat) who hisses alot. Even his fur stands up like a porcupine when expressing his distastefulness. The way he meows almost sounds like a low growl, bares his fangs as if he were a thirsty vampire. Will scare alot of people away with his behaviour, even dogs.

But damn he would make a pretty cat. Golden eyes, dark green stripes and teal fur, the purple diamond still tattooed between where his eyebrows once were, it didn't take long for Verr Goldet to realize that was Xiao.

And the worst nightmare of all, while Cat Xiao roams around the city at night he happened to attract alot of other stray cats who lived in the streets. They were very attracted to his beauty, cornering him until there was no where to run, that was the only situation where Xiao was scared enough to run away.

His ears are the most sensitive. He can't help but purr whenever you pet between them. Though if anyone were to grab his tail, the outcome would not be very pleasant...

~xx~

[Albedo]

The curious cat (who does not die) that will appear from every corner, silently, mysteriously as if he teleported. Once Lisa found him between the bookshelves of her Library while seeing a pile of books stacked upon the floor. Before she could shoo him out, she realized that the cat was way too smart to be a mere cat and quickly deciphered that it was the Chief Alchemist.

Of course no one else in Mondstadt knew it was Albedo, they thought you just had a very talented pet. Margaret even decided to put him against Prince to see who's cat was the best. It wasn't even a competition. Catbedo could paint a picture just by using his paws.

But Klee found out eventually (she deserved to know). She would open her drawer, take out her bow and stick them upon his fur. It seems that Albedo can never get a break when it was against his little sister, she will find indulging activities to do without consent.

Astounded by the sheer talent your cat possessed, the Knights of Favonius offered to hire your cat to be trained as a Knight Cat because animals are very good at deciphering clues for investigation. Oh how unaware they were.

[Zhongli]

The type of cat for crazy cat ladies. It's the vibe he gives being an old man ranging to a thousand years. Zhongli is very behaving, very considerate and very calm in his cat form. His favourite activity is to snuggle upon your lap while you quietly read a book.

He is indeed a tall black cat. Has incredible and refined posture and if he were to stand up on his hind legs, he can even reach as far as the kitchen counter! Though he does not like the fact that he sheds so much fur, it leaves a huge mess behind him (in which you had to clean up)

Zhongli decided to venture into Liyue's streets and see what it's like to be a cat. He starts communicating with some of them, speaking his cat language (meow meowmewomewo? meeoooow). Needless to say, the cats had no idea what he was saying.

If there were any cat-related dish he eats, it has to be sushi. Raw sashimis if possible. You worry if the choice was even healthy for a cat but you remembered that he was still a god. He'll be fine, right?

[Childe]

The annoying cat (that you must take care of, remember) whos a little too impulsive for his own good. Childe finds the excitement running through him whenever he spots a mouse, a squirrel or even a bird. One moment he's in your arms, the next he just leapt high into the air and running into the streets.

Adventurous as always. You take him to the pond to get some fresh air. Childe is not afraid of water, at all. He plays a game with the fishes, trying to see how much he can catch in one swipe. You had to keep a close eye on him otherwise he'd fall in and drown.

Loves climbing trees but shortly realizes that he can't get down. You tell him to jump but he feels hesitant so you had to climb up and get him. However, now the two of you were stuck and Zhongli had to get you both down one at a time.

Childe has the prettiest blue eyes as a cat. They were big and bright, almost feminine. But you knew that look was the look of upcoming trouble.

[Venti]

Oh God Barbatos.

Venti can't stop sneezing. His own fur is all over the place and he just couldn't catch a break (or a breath). Every second he will hiss-sneeze, they sounded like dying noises.

You had to get him to Lisa as fast as possible otherwise the death of Barbatos would have been caused by his own self.

[tootiredmotel]

a different lover is not a sin

or: 5 times Dean didn't go to Pride + 1 time he did

Happy @starrynightdeancas gift exchange posting day!!! This one's for the wonderful and talented @andzia267 !!! Sending you all the hugs and good vibes, and I hope you enjoy it! And thank you Sophie for hosting all this, you're a rock star! <3

Read on ao3 or below / 5.5k words

CW: homophobia, queer used as a slur, john winchester being an asshole

1 - 1994

Dean was fifteen years old when he found out that being gay was something people could be proud of. It was early in the morning, they'd left their motel about 20 minutes before, and Sammy had fallen asleep in the backseat. The sun was just starting to completely show over the horizon, and they were driving through– or rather, struggling to get out of– Phoenix on their way to a possible poltergeist in Tucson. Every street they tried to take was blocked for the big event, and dozens of people already lined the sidewalks with colorful outfits and signs.

"Fuckin' queers," John grumbled in the seat next to him. "Never should'a thrown that damn brick."

Big banners overhead displayed "Stonewall 25: A Global Celebration of Pride". Dean made a mental note to hit up a library once they got to Tucson to look that up, "Stonewall". In the meantime, he was mesmerized staring out the window. Guys held hands, women kissed, everyone was practically vibrating with excitement. A black man in heels and a wig caught his gaze through the window and waved. Dean started to wave back, but his hand was harshly swatted back down.

"Do not," John said. "Don’t talk to them, don’t even look at ‘em. These people are sick in the head."

Dean focused his gaze on his lap until they were out of the city, and his mind wandered back to the gas station they stopped at the day before. He thought of the guy at the cash register that called him "cutie" and winked at him as he bought a candy bar for Sammy and beers for Dad with his fake ID. By Dad’s logic– which Dean trusted, of course–, that cashier, that queer, must've been sick in the head.

Then Dean remembered how his heart sped up, how his ears got hot, and how for a second he let himself think the cashier was kinda cute too. He realized he must also be sick in the head, and the thought was making him feel actually, physically sick. He felt like throwing up. Dad could never know.

Dean was fifteen years old when he learned that being gay actually wasn't something to be proud of.

---

2 - 2000

Dean was 21 years old when he learned the word “bisexual”. Dad had caught word of a ghoul case in lower Manhattan and sent Dean to take care of it. It was starting to get too hot and the streets were too crowded, but Dean was mostly glad to get a break from the constant fighting between Dad and Sammy.

Except it was June, and every time he turned a corner, there they were. The Pride parade flyers.

The second he spotted a rainbow he averted his gaze. He turned another corner and spotted another one. He avoided reading them at all costs. He heard Dad’s voice. Sick. Sick in the head.

For years now Dean had pretended he wasn’t sick. He pretended to not stare at Patrick Swayze too much whenever Dirty Dancing played on TV. He pretended like he didn't imagine what it would be like to kiss a guy, what stubble would feel like against his lips if he ever did.

He liked women. He could stick to women. He could live his whole life like that. And that meant he wasn’t totally sick, right? He wasn’t gay -gay if he liked girls.

But then what the hell was he? Would he even belong at one of these Pride things if he wanted to? He was probably a freak of nature. Even sicker than the rest of the bunch.

Curiosity got the best of him. He spared a glance at one of the flyers as he waited to cross the street.

Gays, lesbians, bisexuals, transexuals, ALL WELCOME

“Are you gonna go?” A voice next to him asked. ”It’s next weekend.” He was blond, pale, and a bit shorter than Dean.

“What? No! I don't swing that way,” Dean said, a bit too quickly and with too much bite.

The guy looked him up and down with a frown. “Geez, alright. Just askin’.”

He started to walk away, and Dean spoke up before he could stop himself.

“Hey man, wait.”

The guy stopped walking.

“Sorry, can I ask you something? Assuming you... know about this stuff?”

He seemed exasperated, but he turned anyway, willing to hear Dean out. Dean licked his lips, rubbed at the back of his neck, swallowed nervously. He couldn’t believe he was doing this, asking a stranger on the street about something so personal. At least the chances of meeting this person ever again were close to none.

“What’s bisexual?”

The guy’s features softened a bit. He seemed to understand something about Dean that so far Dean refused to acknowledge.

“It means you’re into more than one gender. And yes, you can do that,” the guy said. He flashed Dean a tight smile and then disappeared into the crowd.

Dean felt his hands go numb and balled them into fists, shoving them in his pockets. He took a deep breath through his nose. The guy said you. You are. You can.

The guy didn’t know what he was talking about. He knew nothing about Dean. He was wrong.

Or maybe he was right.

But he couldn’t be.

Dean couldn’t be… that.

Dean was 21 years old when he decided he wasn’t bisexual. He wasn’t anything. He was also 21 when he solved a case in record time (two days), just so he could book it out of New York before the next weekend arrived.

---

3 - 2004

By the time he was 25 years old, Dean knew he was bi. He hated it, he never spoke about it, and he ignored it as much as he could, but he was aware of it. And he knew he was bi because, at 25 years old, he’d already gone through two serious breakups, and they both equally sucked.

The first was Lee. He hunted with Dean and John for about a year, the second half of which Dean and Lee spent sneaking around and hooking up behind John’s back. It was fun, and hot, and exciting, and some of the best hookups he’d had up until that point in his life were with Lee.

But the thing is that it wasn’t just hooking up. They were close, and Dean liked him. A lot. They kissed for the first time after a particularly scary werewolf hunt in which Dean almost died, but John was more preoccupied with the mostly-unharmed victim than his own son. Dean and Lee rode in the backseat, bruised, bloody, and quiet. When John went to walk the victim up to her apartment, Lee reached over and placed a hand on Dean’s back, asking him if he was okay. Dean fell into Lee’s arms, and they kissed as they pulled away from the embrace, soft and comforting. It was Dean’s first kiss with a guy.

Lee was a lot of firsts for Dean over the next few months. But then John almost caught them once, drunk and making out in the Impala.

And then that case in Arizona went wrong, and Lee just couldn’t take it anymore. He packed up, swore off hunting, hugged Dean goodbye, and left him in the dust.

Dean needed to clear his head after that. He could barely look his dad in the eye after that close call, couldn't let him see the sorrow he was feeling. With every interaction, he imagined how John would yell at him, probably try to beat it out of him, if he noticed all he was feeling over Lee. Or worse, John could ignore him, practically disown him like he did Sam.

So he also packed up and left. Went hunting on his own for a while.

It was on one of those hunts that he met Cassie, and she was yet another handful of firsts for Dean over the course of a few months. She was amazing, and he fell hard and fast, but of course that went up in flames too.

Then again, he should've known better than to be honest. Honesty only ever got him in trouble.

He’d just left her back in Ohio and was working at a bar in Indianapolis for a few weeks to make some cash. He’d eventually meet back up with Dad. He just couldn’t right now. Not with Sam gone to college. Not after getting his heart broken twice over within a year.

He was hyper-aware of the end of June approaching. He knew it was coming, Indy had a pretty big celebration, and he made sure to be working all day that day so he wouldn't have to face it.

That was pointless, though. Toward the end of the day, a big group of about ten or twelve people who were clearly coming from the parade stumbled into the bar. One of them was apparently the owner’s little sister and they went there every year after the celebrations. They were loud, and obnoxious, and looked incredibly happy. Their happiness was contagious, and Dean loved serving them. He chatted them up, got to know them a bit, and heard all about the parade, all while staring down anyone at the bar who dared look their way with even the slightest stink eye.

But watching them that happy and comfortable, seeing not one, but two pairs of guys sloppily leaning against each other and sharing the occasional kiss while none of their friends seemed to bat an eye… something in Dean ached. Deeply.

Dean was 25 years old when he realized that a small part of him kind of, sort of, wanted to be part of this community. He couldn’t though. Not if he wanted to be on good terms with Dad. Not if he aimed to be the man Dad wanted him to be.

He left Indianapolis the next day.

---

4 - 2008

Dean was 29 years old and on his own personal highway to hell when he learned his brother went to a Pride parade before he ever did. They were driving through San José, the streets were lined with ads for Silicon Valley Pride, and Sam just casually decided to mention how fun it was the last time he went.

Thankfully they were at a red light, or else Dean probably would’ve slammed the breaks. He twisted to look at Sam head-on, his arm on the back of the seat.

“You what ?” he gawked.

Sam shrugged innocently. “What?”

“You went to one of these Pride things?”

“Yeah, dude.”

Dean’s brain was just trying and failing to load. “Why?” he finally asked.

“Jessica was in the GSA and some friends invited us. It was awesome.”

“She was in the what?”

“The G. S. A.,” Sam answered slowly. “Gay-Straight Alliance.”

“Oh.” Whatever that is, Dean thought. He kept eyeing the flyers. It was tomorrow.

“Green.”

“What?”

“Light’s green. Green means go.”

Dean rolled his eyes. "Shut up."

He kept driving and turned up the radio. Somebody To Love was playing, and as much as he liked Queen, he had to change the station. He tried to picture his little brother (his straight little brother) wearing rainbow face paint and having the time of his life at this thing. How come Sammy got to go when Dean could barely entertain the idea? Dean was the not-straight one. It wasn’t fair.

He channeled his jealousy into gripping the steering wheel.

“You okay, Dean?”

“Yeah.” No. “Yeah, m’fine.”

Dean was 29 years old when he died and went to hell without ever having gone to a Pride parade, knowing that his idiot ( straight! ) little brother already had.

---

5 - 2014

Dean was alive again and 35 years old (75, if you count hell) when he was formally invited to a Pride parade for the first time. It was a couple of days after that whole mess with Cas in Lucifer’s crypt, and he called Charlie. He just wanted to hear her voice, needed to know he was still on good terms with at least one of his best friends.

“So anyway,” Charlie said after a while of recounting what she’d been up to. "How single are you right now? My answer is: miserably."

Dean chuckled. Then he thought of Cas, and the smile disappeared. "Yeah, you and me both, sister."

“Would you mind coming with me to this thing next month? Going alone kinda sucks.”

Dean put the phone on speaker and placed it on the library table as he sat down with a beer. “What’s the thing?”

“Pride.”

Dean was glad no one was around to see him almost choke on his drink.

“You good?”

“Yeah, what was that?”

“Pride parade. Don’t have anyone to go with this year.”

“Why uh… Why? Why me?”

She knows.

“I dunno.”

She knows she knows she knows.

“You’re my friend, Dean. Thought maybe you might be interested. But never mind, I guess.”

And while all the alarms in Dean's head were blaring danger danger danger abort, he also hated to hear Charlie so disappointed.

“Hey, no, listen, Charlie, I… I would. Really. You know I support you, wholeheartedly." And that's obviously the only reason I would want to go. "But with Sam doing these trials, and Cas on the run with the angel tablet–”

“It’s okay Dean, I get it. Talk to you soon?”

“Yeah.”

And she hung up.

Dean knew, at this point, that there was nothing wrong with being queer. It wasn’t anything to be ashamed of, and it sure as hell didn’t mean you were wrong in the head or whatever.

But years of pretending to be a false version of yourself in an effort to please a man who was impossible to please wasn’t exactly an easy habit to break. As much as he wished it didn't, as much as he wished he could just exist, the thought of anyone finding out still made him sick to the stomach.

John’s voice still echoed in his ears. His words still drove Dean’s sense of self-worth and so many of his decisions. He tried to never stare at a good-looking guy for too long. He tried to not get too into it with Benny. He tried to keep his feelings for Cas at bay, tried to keep him at arm's length, tried to keep the fact that he was in love (deeply, stupidly in love) as close to his chest as he could.

Even that night at the crypt choking out the words to get through to Cas, he couldn’t bring himself to say what he meant. I love you, he’d wanted to say, because it was the truth. What came out, however, was I need you. And he did, he needed Cas more than air, but it wasn't quite everything.

It still got his heart split in two.

Was he so far gone over Cas that he couldn’t hide it? Had he been trying so hard and failing just as miserably this whole time? Was his attraction to dudes that obvious? Or did Charlie just have a sixth sense for this kinda thing?

It was probably the last one. He hoped it was.

Cas knew, for sure. Angels knew everything right? They could read minds, feel longing, or whatever. And if none of that ever tipped him off, well, Dean put it all on the line back in that crypt. He told Cas how he felt, told him he needed him, tried putting himself out there, and it got him left. Again. With Dean, it was always leave-or-get-left when it came to love. He was tired of it.

Dean was 35 years old, desperately in love with his best friend, and truly heartbroken for the third time in his life, when his other best friend– an out and proud lesbian– gave him a chance to go to Pride, to break through his shell, to finally embrace himself as he was; but because he was practically living in the closet, he couldn’t seem to find the handle after so many years of purposefully ignoring its existence, and he missed his chance. Besides, what was the point of going to a celebration of love without the love of his life by his side?

---

+1 - 2021

Dean is now 42 years old and the happiest he’s ever been. The love of his life? Cas? Turns out he’s felt the same way all along. They're kind of together now, and slowly but surely they’re working through a decade’s worth of shit.

They’ve been raising a kid together too, along with Sam and Eileen, and that kid is also God. After saving the world and whatnot, Jack decided to bring back some of their friends and family that died over the years: Mary, Kevin, Charlie. Yes, there are two Charlies now, but it’s not as confusing as you’d expect. (One is from another dimension, and the other one is Dean’s little sister. Simple.) Mary’s off hunting most of the time and Kevin’s applying to college.

They’ve got extended family now too, Jody and the girls. OG Charlie is staying with them for now, while she finds her footing. Most of that household is queer. Most of Dean's household is queer as well, actually. Turns out both Jack and Eileen are non-binary, Cas is gay in the broader sense of the word, and Dean…

Dean is bi. And everyone knows now.

Apparently, a lot of people had known for a long time. Sam has known since the siren back in ‘09 (even though Dean stands by the fact that it wasn’t like that, Sammy ), and everyone has slowly picked up on his and Cas’s thing over the years, so there’s that.

He still feels a bit weird about it. About calling Cas his boyfriend, about having the freedom to hold his hand in public, about the fact that they now have goddamn pride flags hung around the bunker. He feels even weirder about the fact that John’s voice in his head is now drowned out by the sounds of his home life, more lively and supportive than he ever expected to have.

He wasn’t expecting any of this, he didn’t think everything would change so fast. But when you spend the better part of your life pushing down such a huge part of you and then finally give yourself an out, a chance to show the people who love you who you really are, everything just... follows.

Love follows. Acceptance follows. Family follows. And he wasn’t really expecting any of it.

He certainly doesn’t expect it when Cas walks into the library after his weekly Thursday evening call with Claire and announces, matter-of-factly and with air quotes, “We’re going to "Pride" this weekend.”

Dean’s stomach drops. It’s the Sioux Falls Pride Parade and Festival, it’s in two days, and they’re leaving tomorrow to spend the night at Jody’s so they can all be there bright and early Saturday morning. Everyone immediately starts bustling about, packing and planning outfits and gathering flags to bring with them.

Dean just goes to his room– his and Cas’s now– to pack a small duffle.

Well, he means to. Instead, he takes out the duffle from the closet, puts it on the bed, and sits next to it for a while. An hour goes by. He thinks back to all those times he had brushes with one of these things and was just never in the right mindset. He’s not even sure he’s in the right mindset now, but he’s going. It’s happening.

“Jack’s all ready to go,” Cas says when he walks in. “We spent about half an hour putting together an outfit for Saturday. He wanted it to be as colorful as possible.”

Dean smiles, but it’s not all there. He looks at the empty duffle next to him.

“Yeah, I might need some help with that myself.”

Cas is in sweats and a hoodie. Yes it’s June, yes it’s hot, but he’s a quasi-angel, and the way he experiences the world Dean will never be able to wrap his head around. He walks over and stands in front of Dean, running a hand through his hair and down the side of his face until he’s cupping Dean’s jaw. Dean takes Cas’s hand and leaves a few kisses on the inside of his wrist, closing his eyes as he does.

Cas regards the empty bag and hums quietly, as if in thought, before walking over to their closet. Dean chases his hand, holding onto it until he’s completely out of reach. Cas starts searching, and Dean’s stomach knots more and more with each clang of the hangers. Cas finally pulls out a flannel from its hanger– purple with hints of blue and pink– and tosses it over. Dean can’t believe he didn’t think of it first.

They continue to pack in comfortable silence before changing and getting into bed. Dean doesn’t flop onto his stomach or cuddle into Cas’s side as he usually does; instead, he lies on his back and stares at the ceiling in a daze.

“Dean?” Cas’s voice snaps him out of it.

Dean turns his head and asks, automatically, “You okay?”

It’s a habit by now, asking each other that question. It’s part of the working-through-a-decade’s-worth-of-shit thing they’re doing. Turns out they share a whole lot of trauma. They share worries and insecurities. They share nightmares sometimes, mostly about the Empty.

“I’m okay,” Cas says, putting his hand on top of Dean’s heart for him to hold, and Dean can breathe a little easier.

“You nervous about this thing?” Dean asks, interlocking their fingers.

“The parade? No, not really.”

And then, because he's been working on communicating how he's feeling out loud or whatever, Dean looks back up at the ceiling and says, "I am. Kinda."

He feels Cas shifting and propping himself up on his elbow, and then he's in Dean's line of sight. Dean's gaze is drawn to him, like all of him has been since the moment they met, and Dean can't believe he just has this now. He has a boyfriend, and it's Cas, and he's looking down at Dean with stars in his eyes and a comforting smile that actually works because it's Cas.

And then Cas is leaning down and softly pressing their lips together, and that's also something Dean can’t believe he gets to do: kiss Cas good morning and good night and at any moment in between, kiss him I'm sorry, kiss him we're going to be okay, kiss him I love you.

"I love you too, Dean," Cas says once they've pulled away, and Dean didn't even realize he'd said it out loud, but it doesn't matter. "And you don't need to be nervous. I'll be there with you."

The thought should be a thousand times more nerve-wracking, not just going to Pride but going to Pride with Cas on his arm. It's not nerve-wracking at all, and he soon drifts off to sleep.

Friday goes by faster than it should. The six-hour drive to Sioux Falls, although packed in a car with five people, goes by in a blink. They stop for provisions before getting to Jody's, filling up on backpacks' worth of snacks.

They get to the house and are met with endless hugs and excitement to match. Patience, Alex, and Jody are already working on dinner for the bunch, while Charlie, Donna, and Kaia are running around prepping for the next day and dragging along a hesitant but nevertheless happy Claire. Dinner is chaotic and loud and there are way too many people at the table, and Dean has to step outside after a while.

He sits on the back porch steps. Claire joins him. She's holding a beer, he's not. He hasn't been drinking for a few months now. They don't talk, but she leans her head on his shoulder and they stay there a while, looking at the stars.

When they go back inside, Claire sits back down in her spot at Cas's left, across the table from Dean, and leans on his shoulder for a while too. It's her way of saying she cares, of saying I missed you without really saying it. Jack sits at Cas's right, talking excitedly with Patience about some tv show or other, and the image fills Dean with such fondness that he reaches over with his foot, presses it to Cas's ankle, and keeps it there for the rest of the night.

Dean, Cas, Jack, Sam, and Eileen spend the night spread out around in the living area while the girls sleep in their respective rooms, and Dean is only slightly less nervous as he falls asleep holding Cas’s hand.

---

The nerves all come flooding back as he’s parking the Impala the next morning.

They’re not able to get even remotely close to Phillips Avenue since the streets are so full. They park the three cars that all twelve of them came in as close as they can and then have to walk for another twenty minutes. From blocks and blocks away, people walk and holler and greet them excitedly, many of them trying to circle this swarm of flanneled individuals that are taking up a whole sidewalk. Granted, Dean and Claire are the only ones in their usual kind of outfit. The rest of the bunch is wearing as many colors as they could compile from their closets, half of them are wearing face paint, and the other half are carrying an assortment of pride flags.

They fit right in.

The walk toward the main avenue of the parade is kind of a blur for Dean. He knows he waved at a few people, some friends of Alex from high school joined the group at some point, and Jack already grabbed a snack from his backpack.

The actual parade is also kind of hazy. Getting out of the house that morning had been probably even more chaotic than the night before, so they’re a bit late and the parade has already been going for a good half hour. On top of that, they accidentally merge into it not quite at the starting point but a bit further down the road, in between a decked-out pickup truck and a group of people with dogs. Music is blaring, the dogs are all barking, a big float rides a few yards in front of them, and hundreds stand on the sidewalks recording on their phones and cheering them along.

Dean’s not sure they’re even supposed to be in the actual parade. Maybe they’re supposed to be on the sidewalks? Is this right? What is happening, what is he even doing here?

He doesn’t notice how heavy he’s breathing until Cas is squeezing his hand and beckoning him to meet his eyes. He does, and the blue in them, as imposing as the Atlantic, drowns out everything else around them. “You’re okay, my love,” Cas says. It’s a fact. As long as Dean is with him, he’s okay.

On his other side, Dean feels someone link their arm around his. It’s Charlie, and she’s beaming at them, her cheeks almost as red as her hair. It brings Dean back to reality, grounds him, but he’s okay now. He’s not alone, and he’s meant to be here.

He’s proud to be here.

The parade leads up to a sloping park, and at the lowest point of it, there’s a stage where Dean assumes someone will MC for the afternoon, or maybe perform. It’s grandiose in its simplicity, kind of like a Greek theater, with everyone settling down on the grass around it, expectantly.

“We’ll be right back,” Dean hears Sam say, and he turns to find they’re all set to spend the afternoon, towels laid and backpacks off (save for his). “Jack wants to go meet the drag queens,” Sam says with just a bit too much glee before he and Jack take off.

“It’s not just Jack,” Eileen smiles and follows.

Cas is already sitting, eating one of the PB&Js he packed as lunches for everyone. Jody and Donna are settling down as well and Charlie’s taking a dozen pictures, but the rest of the girls are all standing. “We’re gonna go check out the vendors,” Claire announces, and they start to take off as well.

“Be careful, please!” Dean calls after them, but they pay him no mind. He turns to Charlie. “Hey, your majesty, keep an eye on them will you?”

She smiles, bows gracefully, and heads in the same direction.

Jody stands and grabs Dean by the arm, beckoning him to talk in private for a second.

“What’s up?”

If Dean knows Jody at all, and he does, they’re on the brink of a mom talk.

“Look around, Dean.”

“What for?”

“Just look,” she says, rolling her eyes. “Please?”

So, at her request, Dean starts taking in the environment. Now that everyone is gathered, he can actually see all the people that came out (heh) for the event. There are church groups, pet shelters, skateboarders, and rollerskaters. Drag queens are already taking pictures by the stage, and at least two people are wearing unicorn heads. A few vendors’ tents and food trucks surround the park, and rainbows completely dominate the scenery. There are elders, and kids, and all kinds of families and couples, and everyone looks… happy. Free.

And Dean is here with them. He is one of them.

There’s no danger, no monsters of any kind. No one to judge him, hurt him, call him sick in the head.

He finds Claire’s blonde head amongst the sea of shoppers at the edge of the park. She’s holding hands with Kaia and has one of the biggest smiles Dean has ever seen on her face. There’s no shame in it, and she’s not in any danger either. Things are different now, and she has the freedom to be herself that he never had at her age.

He has it now too. He can be himself.

Dean doesn’t realize he’s about to cry until Jody pulls him down into a hug.

“Dean, I am so proud of you.”

And then he cries.

---

They spend the afternoon laying on the grass, eating, drinking, and enjoying the festivities. The girls come back from the vendors’ tents after a full hour, and most of the bags on their arms are Charlie’s. She gets Cas a mug that says bee yourself in rainbow colors with an image of a cartoon bee, and she gets Dean a button pin that says AC/DC in pink and blue. There’s a meaning behind that apparently, and Dean decides he’ll look it up later.

Jack memorizes all the drag queen’s names. Donna takes a million pictures. They trade numbers with a few people.

There’s a big fireworks show just after sundown. It starts to get windy and a bit chilly, so Dean grabs the nearest pride flag and wraps it around himself. Cas, the perpetual freak who just doesn’t feel temperature apparently, is wearing a t-shirt and shorts and smiling at him unabashedly.

“What?”

“That’s the bisexual flag.”

So it is. “Shut up,” Dean says, but he’s smiling too. “You want in on this?”

He doesn’t wait for Cas to respond before he wraps it around his shoulders as well. The fireworks continue.

“You know,” Cas says after a beat. “As beautiful as they are, pyrotechnics are extremely damaging to the environment.”

Dean can’t help but laugh because of course, Cas would say something like that in a moment like this. He laughs and laughs and regrets being the only one to have heard that; then again, he’s the only one who could’ve found that funny.

He laughs a bit more, wipes a tear, and sees that Cas is still just solemnly watching the show.

“Cas?”

“Yes, Dean?” He replies and then turns his head.

Dean wants to kiss him. He wants to kiss him so bad. Then he remembers where he is, physically and in his life right now, realizes whom he’s surrounded by at this very second, and decides that he can.

So he does. It’s not unlike the way he kissed Cas when they rescued him from the Empty. Granted, there’s less sweat, blood, adrenaline. But just like that day, they’re both on the ground, and the gesture catches Cas by surprise. Just like that day, Dean pulls Cas in gently by the back of his neck and there’s no hesitance or fear. Just like that day, he just does it, presses their lips firmly together, and relishes in the taste of Castiel, in the feeling of the person he loves most in this world kissing him back.

The one big difference is this: that day marked the beginning of the rest of his life. Today? Today is just Dean’s first Pride.

[tangledstarlight]

...i said i was going to make it and well, here we are i guess. im so sorry for this.

Carlos Molina’s to Guide to Ghost Hood (title subject to change) 

welcome to the 1st edition, maybe i’ll make a 2nd if i get inspired enough but also, this is such a mess already i don’t think the world needs a part 2 dfghg

Link to the power point is in the first reblog. (i’d highly recommend watching it for the full experience dfgh)

Link to ao3 also in the first reblog. 

below the cut is the accompanying fic and description of the rules/guide.

The tape recorder lets out a low buzzing sound as Carlos presses a button on the side and stands it up between them on the dining room table. Julie shoots an amused glance at Reggie who’s taken up residence in the chair next to him, the two of them flipping open notebooks and clutching pencils. 

“Where did you even find a tape recorder?” She wonders, stretching out a finger to touch the silver rectangle only for her hand to be swatted away by Reggie.

“Found it in a box of moms stuff and dad said we could order some tapes from amazon,” Carlos replies matter of factly, straightening up in his chair once he seems to have found the page he was looking for. “Right. Let's start off easy, shall we?” 

He looks at her expectantly and Julie rolls her eyes, waving a hand at the two of them, “Lets.” 

“Question one,” Carlos taps his pencil at the top of his page before squinting at her, “Did you conduct any séance related activities before the ghosts showed up?” 

Julie blinks at him, wondering if he’s joking but the pair of them just look back at her, heads both slightly tilted and it’s at that moment that she realises how serious they’re going to be about this. It was going to be a long afternoon of questioning apparently. 

“No, I didn’t conduct any séance related activities. I just put on their CD and they y’know, fell out of the sky.” 

“Interesting, interesting,” Carlos mutters as he looks at Reggie’s notebook as the older boy writes her answer down, underlines something and taps it with his pencil that makes Carlos let out a small hm. “So you don’t know anything about the dark room? Didn’t make any wishes?” 

“No,” Julie shakes her head, watches Reggie write something else down and tilt his notebook to Carlos. It’s weird, watching them communicate like that, like they’ve created a shorthand between them and don’t even require her presence to have a conversation. Which is obviously true because they’ve clearly discussed all this beforehand. 

“You walked through Luke right? What did that feel like to you?” Reggie’s question catches her off guard and she looks between them, but Carlos is already looking at her, waiting for her answer. 

“It was um cold? But also not. I--” she frowns, trying to think back to that first night in the kitchen when she’d turned around and walked through him. Back when she’s barely known any of them and was more annoyed by their presence then comforted. “It was weird. The first few seconds after I walked through him I just felt cold but then it was like a rush of warmth? You know when you get one of those random shivers that runs through your whole body? It feels all weird and tingly but also kinda nice? Like that.” 

“Did it feel like you got a feel of Luke?” Carlos asks and Julie shrugs, a slight blush on her cheeks and somehow, despite the fact they can’t see each other, the two of them share a look. 

“What’s the next question,” anything to move off the topic of walking through Luke and how it felt. 

//

“Oh Julie is gonna be so pissed at you guys,” Alex mutters but makes no move to step in and stop the ‘experiment’ currently going on. He watches as Reggie tries to put a hand on Carlos’ shoulder, fingers phasing through the younger boy's jacket with a frown. 

“She won't be pissed if it works,” is all Reggie says, face morphing into one of concentration as he slowly lowers his hand on to Carlos’ shoulder again. 

For his part, Carlos bounces slightly on his toes, eyes fixed on the notebook in Alex’s hand in case they need to tell him something. And okay, Alex might not fully agree with the way the two of them are going about this whole thing, but he can’t say he’s not on board with it. Their whole stint as ghosts has been nothing but confusion after confusion that not even Willie has answers for. Does he think Reggie and Carlos are going to uncover some fundamental thing that makes them the way they are? Probably not. Will they maybe get him some kind of answer? God he hopes so. 

Especially since there’s been small moments in the last few weeks where Ray and Carlos have been able to hear them even without them playing music or Julie nearby. Which had scared all of them. Thought it was nothing compared to Ray’s reaction when he’d apparently walked into the kitchen to find Julie and Luke hugging, only for him to vanish when they suddenly let go. It was a hell of a way to find out they could be seen if they were touching her. 

“Oh!” Carlos suddenly exclaims, head whipping to look at his shoulder where Reggie’s hand is resting solidly on the fabric of the jacket. Alex feels his eyes widen a fraction and watches Reggie’s smile widen as he squeezes slightly on Carlos’ shoulder. “Oh my god! I can feel that!” 

“Holy shit,” Alex whispers, grip on the pencil in his fingers growing. 

“Hey! I heard that too! Quick! Write it down! 30 minutes and- and however many attempts it took!” Carlos grins, face turning towards him and Alex doesn’t even have time to feel guilty about swearing before he’s scribbling in Reggie’s notebook.

//

“Thanks again for taking me,” Carlos says as he pulls his seat belt across his chest and clicks it in, eyes drifting from his tia in the front seat to the little notebook resting on the back seat and the pencil that’s hovering just a few inches off the paper. Subtly he sees it tap on the page, once, twice, and he bites down on his grin, tucking his hands under his thighs to stop from bouncing in his seat. They’re ready. 

“Of course mijo,” Victoria smiles over at him as she turns on the engine, fingers already messing with the buttons on the radio to find her favourite station. “I have to say I’m impressed. Planning ahead for your dad's birthday.” 

“Mhm,” he agrees, his eyes on the notebook that he can just see in the rearview mirror. The pencils resting between the creases in the pages and he holds his breath as the radio jumps to a different station. 

Victoria frowns slightly, her eyes darting from the road to the radio and back, hand reaching out to change it back. When it jumps to another station. And another. Carlos feels his eyes widen a little, legs bouncing on top of his hands as he watches the radio cycle through station after station, only lingers for a few seconds on each before moving on. 

Finally it stops, the words of Despacito ringing through the car and it’s lucky they’re at a red light he thinks, because when Victoria tries to change it it jumps right back. 

“What the f-” she starts, the furrow between her brows growing deeper and the knuckles on her hand that’s still gripping the wheel turning white. 

“Can we leave it? I like this song,” he looks over at her with a smile, blinking in what he hopes is a completely innocent way. He’s pretty sure she’s too distracted by the radio to question it. 

“Sure, sure,” she mutters, not even looking at him, eyes going from the road to the radio. 

The song ends and from the corner of his eye he can see the pencil in the back moving, Reggie or Willie writing something down and he has to stop himself from turning around to see what it is. Instead he watches as tia starts changing the radio station again, her fingers never leaving the touch screen as if that was the problem. But the second she lands on her favourite 80’s classics station and is moving her fingers away it changes. Skipping through stations again until Despacito is once again filling the car. 

It’s probably lucky that they’re at another red light and that there’s no one behind them because her eyes widen and she’s suddenly saying words in Spanish that he knows he shouldn’t know and is pulling over to the side of the road. 

“We have to get out! The car is being possessed! Out, out Carlos! Come on!” Her seat belt is off and her door is open before Carlos even has a chance to process what’s happening. The notebook from the back is pushed in front of his face and he tilts his head a little to side to read Reggie’s familiar handwriting, 

Too far? 

“Maybe,” he whispers back, taking the notebook out of the ghost's hand as he starts to get out of the car, plucking the pencil out of the metal spirals and making a note about not pushing tia in a moving vehicle and to wait until after they’ve gone shopping first. 

She’s got her phone pressed to ear when he joins her on the sidewalk, pacing up and down. Carlos is pretty sure there’s going to be a family dinner story time in their near future. 

//

Luke watches as Carlos sets his tape recorder up, idly plucking out a half finished tune on his guitar in order to be seen and heard. He doesn’t really get the other boys interest in figuring out their ghostly state of being. The same way he doesn’t really care about finding answers to all of Alex’s questions. 

They ate some bad street dogs. They died. Julie brought them back and then she saved them a second time. They can play music and sometimes be seen. He already has all the answers he needs and it’s two words: Julie Molina. 

Would it be nice to know what the black room was? Sure. Did he sometimes wonder why they could be seen but other ghosts couldn't? Sometimes. Did he want answers? Only if someone was going to give them to him without having to do the work. Was he going to sit here and answer all of Carlos’ questions because it was important to him and to the others? Fuck yeah he was. 

“Does that think pick up our voices even if we’re not playing and not near Julie?” He nods at the recorder on the table after Carlos hits a button. 

“Yeah! It’s so cool too. You sound like, all static-y and I have to listen really hard sometimes because your voices fade in and out but they’re there!” 

Okay, Luke can admit that is pretty cool, “That’s wicked. Maybe we should start using that to communicate instead of writing.” He was really sick of people commenting on his handwriting. 

“Dude that’s genius! It would be like leaving each other voice notes!” He gestures in the air with his pencil the same way Julie does when she’s realised the issue with a verse and Luke smiles softly. He doesn’t know what voice notes are, but he’s glad he could contribute to the communication issue. 

“What questions have you got for me then little dude?” He raises an eyebrow at Carlos as he flips through his notebook. 

//

When he’d first knocked Alex down Willie never thought it would lead to him sitting in the Molina’s family living room, a whiteboard resting on his knees as a twelve year old shows him bar graphs and pie charts of information on ghosts. 

There was probably some kind of domino-butterfly effect going on that had led him here. But he’s too busy trying to fit all his know ghost knowledge onto a whiteboard so Carlos can fill in the gaps in his knowledge. 

Over the years Willie has met a lot of lifers, has interacted with a handful at the HGC but he’s never met a family like the Molina’s. Who found out ghosts were real and instead of running, or trying to profit off of them, had just...welcomed them into the family. Arms wide and hearts open. 

And more than that, here was Carlos trying to get answers to questions that none of them really had an answer too. 

“Black room, yes or no?” Carlos asks, holding up a flash card and a clothes peg, ready to add it to the line of string stretching across the room. It was already littered with other cards in an order that Willie really didn’t understand but seemed to make perfect sense to the younger boy and Reggie. 

Not for me, or anyone I asked at the club, he scribbles down, turning to the board around. 

“Just like we thought,” he nods to himself, taking two steps to the left and reaching up to attach the card, “An anomaly.” he whispers it to himself and Willie has to bite his lip to stop from smiling before remembering that Carlos can’t actually see him. 

“Hey,” Alex’s voice from the doorway drags his gaze away from the lifer and the smile he’d been trying to stop spreads across his face, “How’s it going?”

“I don’t think we’re even half way through,” he chuckles, gesturing with one hand at the stack of flashcards and the charts he hasn’t even seen yet. “Do you understand this system?” 

The exasperated laugh that leaves Alex’s lips is answer enough before he’s even shaking his head, strands of blonde hair dipping into his eyes and Willie wants to reach to move away, “Not a clue. They’ve tried to explain it to us but it makes zero sense to anyone but them.”  

“Hey, Alex, stop distracting him, we’re working here!” Carlos’ voice makes him jump, head turning back to where he’s standing with his arms crossed and shaking his head in disappointment in the vague direction of where Alex is standing. 

“Wait, can he see you?” Willie frowns, mind trying to remember if he knew this or not. 

“No, he’s just really good at sensing us these days,” Alex sighs, but there’s a fond look in his eyes as he looks at Carlos, “He says it’s his ghost powers kicking in from how often he hangs out with Reggie and from all the failed teleportation experiments.” 

“The failed what now?” 

“Oh, you’ll find out. I think it’s section 7?” Alex grins, pushing off from where he’d been leaning against the doorway and waving.

Willie turns back to Carlos feeling a little more confused than he had minutes ago but also much more intrigued about teleportation experiments. And if he could help get some answers for any of the many questions Alex had, that was cool too.

//

Carlos Molina’s Guide to Ghosting. So you became a ghost, huh?

 (working title, subject to change)

By Carlos Molina, with special thanks to Reggie Peters and Willie Skateboard. 

1st Edition. 

Dedicated to Alex Mercer, so he can stop asking so many questions. We’re working on it buddy.

1. Tangibility 

They can walk through anything (except my sister now, reasons still unclear). 

Works especially well with walls, doors and locked vaults (see exhibit a) 

When they walk through people it “allows them to get a feel for the person” – Reggie Peters. “It’s weird” – Alex Mercer. No comment from Luke Patterson as he was too busy staring at Julie. 

2. Souls

Objects can be attached to their souls. 

Still unclear if it has to be an object that they were close to in life, or if they can attach their souls to any object once a ghost. 

Experiments with Reggie Peters are still ongoing. Updates will follow.

3. Being Seen

Can be seen by “lifers*” when they play music with Julie. 

This is the first rule which only applies to our ghosts. 

They can be heard when they play music without Julie. This is also unclear as to why, working theory is “Our music is just so awesome it transcends deaths!” – Luke Patterson.

Mr Willie Skateboard was quick to point out it’s “weird” and “ghosts aren’t supposed to be seen by lifers.”

4. Touching

Our ghosts can now touch Julie. The biggest change in their afterlife. 

Still no explanation for it. Experiments are ongoing (see exhibit b) 

Have witnessed Julie hugging the air many times only for Alex or Willie to appear. Same with hand holding. (see exhibit c for dads reaction) 

5. Magic

Some ghosts have powers and abilities. 

Willie* can control different types of technology. Appears to work best with cars. This we believe correlates with who a ghost dies. 

In our expedition to test his skills he skipped through 15 different radio stations of Tia’s car until he found one playing despacito. Test was a success. Tia does think her car is haunted now however.

6. ???

There was a dark room. 

All other ghosts interviewed had never heard of it before. 

All our ghosts agreed it was weird and creepy. 

We are choosing to pretend it didn’t happen. 

Working theory: a hole in time that they fell through. Must find a way to test.

7. Teleporting

part 1)

Ghosts can teleport wherever they want in the world. 

Only the most powerful can teleport a lifer with them (will keep attempting)

part b) 

Our ghosts can pinpoint Julie’s exact location wherever she may be in the world. 

Will be helpful if she is ever kidnapped, Julie however wishes they would stop using said power to find her in gym class.

“I already have find my friend activated” – Flynn had to say on the matter. 

part c) 

Julie can summon the boys to her if she concentrates hard enough. Came in handy when an evil magician tried to kidnap them.

Also possibly how they escaped the dark room, no way to prove or deny this as dad won’t let me eat a bad hotdog to become a ghost.

Working theory: magic of music and family 

See Exhibit d 

See Exhibit e