#ledge would have curled up to him and then been literally the best person in the world to him because how could he do that to SKY?

[illegiblehandwriting1]

"Sky, wait. Wait!" He grabbed Sky's wrist. "We love you. I love you! You do know that, right? You know I love you. Right?" 

Sky stared at him, his bright blue eyes widening. Was that…was that shock? 

"Right?" he pleaded. He felt his face crumple into something desperate, something scared. There wasn't enough left in him to hide it. “C’mon, Sky, tell me you know that. Please, tell me you know that!" 

-

i think that's my favorite fucking thing right now. Just letting you guys know.

[g1rld1ary]

the way i see you ; remus lupin x reader

➻ synopsis: you're an artist, but you never let any of your friends see your work. they finally attend one of your exhibits and see your feelings on paper

➻ word count: 4346

➻ content: swearing, allusions to sex, gryffindor reader but literally mentioned once, no pronouns but implied to be fem reader, kissing, no war AU!!

➻ the remus brainrot is strong rn

════ ⋆★⋆ ════

You were an artist, you had been the whole time the boys knew you. Even in first year as a shy eleven year old, you were always scribbling away in a little sketchbook that lived in the big pockets of your robes. The hobby only developed as you got older, expanding mediums and filling countless sketchbooks. When you weren’t studying (or even when you were supposed to be) it was almost a given that you’d be working on a piece somewhere, far from the prying eyes of others.

Your friends caught glances of your art sometimes, doodles on the corner of your essays or notes, maybe a stray page left out in your dorm which told them you were good, but you never ever willingly let them see it. They didn’t know why, truthfully, you didn’t know either, but it had always been that way and everyone had more or less accepted that.

“Have you ever drawn me?” Sirius asked one afternoon as you all sat out by the Black Lake, cocky grin on his face.

“’Course,” You answered simply, moving to turn back to your conversation with Remus.

“Wait, really?”

“Well you have to have drawn me then, right? Can’t just be Padfoot!” James cut in quickly, making you laugh, nodding.

“Before everyone starts asking, lets just establish that I’ve drawn all of you at some point, okay?” You thought that would calm them down, but it only riled them up further, much to your chagrin.

“And you haven’t shown us?” Marlene cried dramatically.

“I deserve to see you capture my beauty!” Sirius collapsed in an exaggerated performance and you couldn’t decide whether you were amused or embarrassed, giggling and hiding your face in Remus’ shoulder. He merely pat you on the shoulder, shooting you a fond gaze you couldn’t see. James caught it though, and smirked in a way that Remus knew he was about to be embarrassed.

“Have you drawn Moony?” He asked, and you both looked at him suddenly.

“Prongs, don’t,” Remus said sternly, then turning to you, “It’s okay, you don’t have to answer… I know they must ruin the picture.” He gestured down to his scars. You just looked at him for a moment, utterly baffled.

“As if some silly scars would stop me from drawing you,” You said, a sweet smile on your lips, “You’re my biggest inspiration, Moony.” He blushed at that but the rest of your friends tactfully ignored it, though the boys shot him some shit-eating looks.

It was probably true that you drew Remus the most, but it was only because you spent the most time with him! Or, that’s what you told yourself anyway. Remus Lupin was your best friend in the world, and you loved him more than anything. Since you were always together and hanging out, clearly you’d draw him more, it was perfectly natural!

Your study sessions together in the library often devolved quickly, essays abandoned to the side, both of you falling into chatter as you studied and sketched him.

“What’re you drawing, dove?” He’d always ask, knowing you’d never tell. You’d simply press your lips into a cheeky smile, shaking your head resolutely.

“Uh-uh,” You’d say, “An artist never reveals her secrets.”

“I’m pretty sure that’s magicians, stupid,” He laughed, running a hand through his curls.

“Oh,” You frowned, “Well I’m that too, aren’t I?”

“Hardly,” He snorted, “Your essays are more doodles than writing.”

“Hey, Slughorn gave me a whole extra mark for the portrait I drew last week, so none of that.”

Or you’d follow him out of the pub you were all in when Remus needed a smoke, sitting on the blacked out window ledge as he lit up. You thought he might have been the most beautiful person in the world when he smoked, the way the lighter brought out the gold flecks in his eyes and hair and the shadows of night emphasised his unreal bone structure. You’d probably drawn him in that exact scenario hundreds of times, but it wasn’t your fault he looked like a fallen angel. When he leaned over to give you a puff you took it gratefully, if only for the proximity. You weren’t much of a smoker, but for Remus you’d let your lungs rot.

It was moments like that where you’d wonder what it would be like to kiss him, lean past the cigarette and put your mouth on his. Sometimes you thought he wanted it too, the way he’d get slightly too close for best friends, his own hand being the one to stick the dart into your mouth, sometimes so close your lips brushed his fingers. Moments like that made you wonder if he loved you back. Then later, when everyone was drunker, you’d see him stick his tongue down some prettier girl’s throat and you’d remember your place as his best friend. If it stung you tried not to show it, letting some sleazy guy a few years older than you buy you drinks until Peter told you it was time to leave.

Still, you were mostly alright with just being friends with Remus. You still got most of the benefits; his conversation, his dry humour, the ability to look at his gorgeous face. Who needed everything else? Plus, you could draw him whenever you wanted, doing whatever you wanted — not in a weird way. Mostly. You still would never admit that you’d drawn him holding your hand, or kissing you, or other things you desired… The magic of art, right?

After years of bugging, you finally submitted to your friends constant nagging. The day that you officially graduated Hogwarts was an emotional one. Seven years of constant laughter and magic (both literal and the sentimental kind) were over, and the world seemed too large and intimidating compared to the familiar walls of your school. Yet there was no stopping it, and you were all Hogwarts graduates.

While all your parents cried and reminisced over coffee in the Great Hall, your friends had gone for one last deep conversation by the Black Lake. Discussions of the future were unavoidable, but were mostly positive. Talks of trips you’d take, apartments you’d live in and hell you’d raise. When you all quietened down slightly, struck by it being the last time you’d sit in front of the lake, you cleared your throat.

“Um, I have something for you guys, a graduation gift.” From your purse you pulled the envelopes, all filled with fancy cardstock from the art shop near your family home. You’d drawn a simple grey-lead portrait of each of your friends, framed with a little message of congratulations. You watched anxiously as they each opened the envelopes, nervous all the hype would make the art seem inconsequential. Your fear couldn’t be farther from the truth.

Sirius gasped dramatically as he saw what it was, but a genuine smile followed straight after. James burst straight into tears, hardly getting the picture all the way out. You could tell Lily was trying not to follow, but seeing her boyfriend cry set off the waterworks for her. Marlene and Mary were inspecting the others, pointing out the little details you’d put in, like Mary’s favourite daisy earrings or the slit Marlene had impulsively shaved into her eyebrow only a few weeks before. Peter was bright pink, flattered to the highest degree. Remus was hard to read, simply staring at you with the strangest look in his eye. You couldn’t ask him about it though, being ambushed with hugs from every direction.

“I can’t believe you’ve been hiding all this talent from us,” Peter said, the rest agreeing.

“Didn’t know we had our very own Da Vinci hiding behind a Gryffindor tie,” Marlene added, making you blush and grin.

You dreaded to imagine what it would look like from an outsider’s perspective, the eight of you teary, sweaty messes all piled on top of each other. Well, seven of you.

“Come on, Moony,” James called in a sing-song voice, “If you can’t submit to a hug at our graduation I am going to give you the biggest, slobberiest kiss and you won’t be able to do a thing about it.” Remus snorted, rolling his eyes.

“You look like absolute wankers,” Was all he said, but joined the pile nonetheless, and you were extra glad he was mainly holding on to you. When you all finally pulled away it was minutes later, but the whole thing was strangely cathartic.

“We all have to promise that we’ll always be friends, no matter what,” Mary said, putting her pinky finger out. The rest of you agreed, sticking your pinkies in for a very convoluted eight way promise. With that sorted your friends started heading back up the hill to the school building, ready to leave Hogwarts forever and prepare for a long night of heavy drinking. Remus held you back. James sent you a suggestive glance when he noticed but left it that, drawing Lily in for a bittersweet kiss.

You turned to Remus, only for his eyes to be locked on the portrait. You’d spent so much time trying to get it perfect for him, practising the stupid knot he insisted on tying every day despite the rest of the school going with a less convoluted method of wearing their ties.

“Do you like it?” You asked, subconsciously twisting your ring around your pointer finger. Remus let out a half laugh.

“I love it, honest. It’s insane, really. That you can make this just like that. It’s just…” You searched his eyes for the rest of the sentence. “You make me look…” He didn’t finish but you knew immediately what he meant. Remus hated looking at himself, training his eyes down in the bathroom and opting to always be the photographer so he didn’t have to see himself in the final product. You knew of course it was because of his scars, but you genuinely couldn’t believe he thought they were ugly, much less made him ugly.

“I wish you could see yourself the way I see you, just once,” You sighed, grabbing his free hand and interlocking your fingers, leading him back to where the others were waiting.

Four years out of Hogwarts and you’d all kept your promise. Of course you didn’t see each other quite as much as the boarding school schedule allowed, but the boys all had an apartment together which brought you together often enough — except James and Lily who were married and had moved down to Godric’s Hollow to raise baby Harry. That similarly brought you all to meet often, all determined to spoil Harry as his aunts and uncles.

You weren’t a full-time artist professionally, though you still did it just as much. You’d evolved to paints by then; living with a muggle because the rent was cheap had the added bonus of not having to worry about leaving your paintings on the easel since you didn’t really care what they thought about your art anyway.

Your friends were all huddled in the boys’ apartment living room, every seat taken as you all caught up. You were on the couch with Remus, absentmindedly running your hands through his hair as his head rested on your lap. You still weren’t dating, but Lily always said you might as well have been. You laughed her off every time — if he hadn’t said anything by now how could he feel the same way? You tried to pretend it didn’t still sting.

You’d tried dating, Remus too. He’d had countless partners since you’d finished school — even more one night stands. Nothing lasted more than a few months. You’d done slightly better, you made it about a year with some bloke that Remus hated before he revealed himself as a colossal dickhead, and you’d been mostly single since.

The group was trying to organise their next meeting.

“What about the movies next Friday? I wanna see that new muggle film, Knife Runner,” James suggested and you and Remus both snorted.

“Blade Runner, love,” Lily corrected with a giggle and James burst out laughing, making a quick joke at his own expense. You’d dug your planner out of your purse to check your availability and frowned, closing the book quickly.

“I can’t do next Friday, sorry, how about Saturday?”

“And what plans have you got on a Friday night, you minx?” Mary asked with wiggling eyebrows. Even Remus looked interested, which made your heart stutter.

“Just a work thing,” You answered quickly, not wanting to reveal the real reason.

“You lie like a rug!” Marlene yelled, sitting up from her spot on the floor. You winced, you shouldn’t have made an excuse that she could so easily disprove, being in the same department of the ministry. “What plans are you too embarrassed to tell us about, slag?” You laughed shortly, their assumptions were so completely off.

“It’s not what you think—”

“Not what you think my arse, who’s ‘Davis Show’ and why is he surrounded by hearts, you absolute tart!” Sirius cried, displaying the planner for everyone to see. You couldn’t help but burst out laughing, wheezing as you looked at your friends’ faux-scandalised expressions.

“Look you twats, Davis Show isn’t a man. I’ve been invited to put my art in a show at the Davis Gallery down on Welking Road next week. I can assure you I’m not shagging a man named Davis.”

The whiplash was immediate, the gossip sniffing exchanged for celebrations, you couldn’t tell whose yelling was whose. Peter immediately ran to the kitchen for a bottle of champagne, passing glasses around the room. When the initial excitement wore down you were subjected to a million questions, and tried to answer each of them patiently.

“I can’t believe you weren’t gonna tell us,” Mary pouted and you sighed.

“You know how I get about my art,” You explained, “It’s not that I don’t love you all, obviously, it just makes me so nervous thinking about you guys all seeing my stuff.”

“You know we’re all coming now, right?” James said, wiping his glasses where the champagne bubbles had created smudges.

“You really don’t have to,” You put in quickly, “It’s so embarrassing.”

“Why won’t you let us appreciate you?” Marlene whined.

“It’s just, my art is like an extension of my soul. I don’t think I’d be able to recover if you didn’t think it was good.” Your friends grew rowdy at that, offended you’d even think they wouldn’t adore your art no matter what. You felt Remus put a hand on your thigh and gave him a weak smile, knowing he’d shut down the conversation if you wanted him to. You didn’t want to make a big deal out of nothing though, especially when everyone was being so supportive. You figured everyone was so busy they’d forget it by the next week anyway.

Friday came, and you were a wreck of nerves. Although you’d sold pieces here and there throughout the years, this show would be the first time your art would be displayed as a collective, and you were terrified of rejection.

You’d figured your friends weren’t actually coming since none of them had really mentioned anything since. Apart from Lily, of course, who’d sent an owl to your desk that morning with a sweet good luck note and your favourite chocolate.

Even Remus hadn’t said anything when you went for coffee on your lunch break. That did puzzle you, you knew he would never go if he thought it would make you uncomfortable, but it wasn’t like him as your best friend to forget something so monumental in your life. You thought he was acting kind of weird though, more affectionate than he usually was. He kept looking at you longer than he should, and you wondered if you’d miscounted how far away the next full moon was. When you asked him about it he just brushed it off, looking down at his tea instead like he’d been caught.

“I love you,” He said and you laughed.

“I love you too, Lupin!” You cooed, patting him softly on the hand.

“You’re amazing, you know?” You arched a brow.

“What are you trying to make up for?” You asked suspiciously, giving him a once over to search for answers.

“Nothing, promise,” He smiled in a way that made your knees a little weak, “I just wanted to make sure you knew.”

“You’re gonna give me an ego,” You grumbled, packing up your things to get back to work. As you parted ways he pressed a kiss down to your cheek and you stumbled. Remus was never this affectionate as a person — a pat on the back, a hug if you needed one, yes, but he was never one for casual platonic kisses. You figured it must have been his way to apologise for not coming to the art show? But he knew you didn’t mind, so what was he apologising for? You tried to shake it off and get back to work, but you couldn’t get your closeness out of your head.

Evening fell and you were setting up your stall before the other patrons came in. Rearranging the paintings until you were pretty much perfectly happy, you looked around, still not fully believing you were really here. People were filtering in, well dressed and chattering softly as young waiters handed out flutes of champagne. You straightened out your silky black skirt in an effort to look more presentable, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear.

At first things were slow, and you almost regretted not inviting your friends, if only so they could make your area look more interesting. And once you let that thought in, you kind of regretted not inviting them anyway. After all, they were the dearest people in your life and this was such a meaningful event to you.

You couldn’t think about that for long though since people had begun to filter over to you, making polite small talk as they admired your paintings. You tried to be energetic, smiling widely if you ever locked eyes with someone. However, deep down, you just wanted your friends.

A little old woman approached you for a while, wanting to know the meaning behind basically every painting and you told her happily, sharing the memories that inspired each work.

“Seems like you’ve got some true friends,” She said, “I hope you keep them close.” You agreed, thanking her profusely as she bought a landscape of the Whomping Willow.

It was growing closer and closer to closing, and honestly, it had been a wonderful night. Seeing the way that people reacted and interacted with your art was a magical experience, and changed the way you thought about it entirely. You decided that if you ever got the opportunity again, you’d want to share it with everyone else.

You were just moving to start packing up when you heard a myriad of gasps.

“What the fuck, dude?” The unmistakeable voice of Marlene McKinnon said from behind you. You whipped around to meet them, breaking into a cheek splitting smile.

“What are you guys doing here?” You asked, rushing over to scoop them all up into a hug.

“Fuck that, why didn’t you tell us that we’re your exhibition?” Sirius cried, running up to examine the paintings more clearly.

“And that they’re literally professional?” Peter added, eyes wide in wonder. You flushed red under their praise. If your friends thought your pencil portraits were good, they were nothing compared to your paintings.

Plus, every one of them was of your friends, or something sentimental to you all. Landscapes of Hogwarts, portraits of your friends, captured memories of long summer days, or life sketches from when you were all together. You watched them observe the paintings with nervous excitement, loving as they gave specific, personal compliments that only people who truly knew you could give.

“This our apartment,” Sirius said, pointing to one of your biggest pieces, “That’s our couch, the pillow Prongs has permanently ruined with butterbeer, that’s Moony!”

“There are a lot of paintings of Moony, aren’t there?” James whispered to you, wiggling his eyebrows. You flushed again. Sirius continued on, seeming (or pretending) not to have heard.

“We have to have this in the flat. Right boys?” Your eyes widened.

“Really?”

“For sure,” Peter said, “I’m buying this one too.” He gestured to one of him and James playing chess in the Gryffindor common room.

“And this is taking pride of place at home.” James pointed to a portrait of his and Lily’s wedding, and Lily similarly chose one of her and baby Harry. Marlene took one of her and Mary on the beach and Mary took one of the group at a house party. Half your paintings ended up being sold by the end of the night, and you couldn’t feel luckier. The only one who hadn’t said anything was Remus, who couldn’t keep his eyes off the paintings.

You shooed your friends out of the gallery once it really was closing time, and got to work packing away your things. You were deep in thought, reflecting on the wild day when someone cleared their throat behind you. It was Remus, and he moved to help you put your things away, stacking the paintings between bubble wrap to protect them.

“These are really beautiful,” He said, “I mean, we knew you were talented but… these are seriously on another level.”

“Thanks, Remus.” You smiled, unable to make eye contact as you watched him handle all the paintings you’d done of him. Portraits like the others, but also studies of his hands — god you were obsessed with his hands — his profile, and one less than innocent picture of his back, scars resting over muscles. You probably shouldn’t have put that one out, but to be fair you didn’t know he’d see it.

There was a somewhat awkward silence between the two of you. Not uncomfortable, per se, but there were definitely things you both wanted to say that neither knew how to.

“Let me drive you home,” Remus settled on and you nodded, letting him help you load your work into the boot of his car. You sat in the passenger seat, absentmindedly tapping your fingers on the dashboard to whatever radio station Remus had turned on. Remus stared straight ahead, knuckles pulled tight around the steering wheel.

“I’m really proud of you, you know. This whole show was incredible.” You went to thank him again but he kept talking. “I just wanted to know, um, there were a lot of paintings of me. I was just wondering why, why me?” You hesitated, unsure of what was going to come out of your mouth.

“I wish you could see yourself the way I see you,” You decided on with a bit of a sigh.

“You’ve said that before, what does that mean?” Your breath hitched. You definitely didn’t intend for it all to come out tonight, but if you didn’t say it now you doubted you ever would.

“You are the most beautiful person I know, Remus. I mean, even aside from your personality — which we know I have to be at least somewhat a fan of after all these years — you’re totally fit. Your eyes, your hair, God, your fucking bone structure, you’re literally a walking renaissance painting. And I know you think your scars make you ugly, but you don’t know how turned on I get thinking about how they’d feel on my skin.” Shit, you probably should’ve stopped talking.

You hadn’t realised he’d parked while you were rambling, but now you were sitting outside his apartment and he was looking at you with eyes that looked more like the wolf than him.

“I turn you on?” He whispered, voice suddenly gravelly as he leaned closer in to you.

“More than anything,” You breathed, brain buffering at the feeling of his breath on your face. Suddenly his mouth was on yours, hot and electric and not at all gentle. It felt like years of pent up frustration being let out all at once, and if he was anything like you, it probably was.

“Up,” He mumbled between kisses and you heard him undoing his seatbelt, hurrying to do the same. You barely disconnected to get out of the car, attaching yourself to his arm as he led the way up to the boys’ flat.

You made it up the three flights of stairs, not without Remus pushing you up against the stairwell wall to stick his tongue in your mouth, and stumbled straight into his bedroom, shedding layers as soon as the door was safely shut.

The next morning you awoke first, initially convinced you were dreaming when you saw him lying peacefully beside you. Eventually you rolled onto your side, ready to get out of bed for a glass of water when his nightstand caught your eye. There, in pride of place, was your graduation portrait of him, with a polaroid of the two of you stuck to the corner. Maybe he really had liked you as long as you’d liked him.

[in1-nutshell]

Hello, I have beeb following your account for some time and is one of my favorites, I am always looking forward for reading or rereading your content.

I would like to request for more dinobot buddy and Bumblebee please, maybe when they finally confesses or Bee being so oblivious that is almost painfully for the rest of the bots.

Thank you so much!

Thanks for the compliment! Happy to hear the positive things about my content.

Hope you enjoy!

Dinobot Buddy with a crush on Bumblebee: The pinning continues...

SFW, Platonic, Hinted Romance, Cybertronian reader

G1

Buddy as of lately began making ‘bolder moves’.

And by bolder moves, she was just making the same ‘moves’ but adding trinkets to the list.

She would find random things on patrol, on missions, or around the base and give them to Bumblebee.

The minibot now has a couple shelves dedicated to the trinkets because he doesn’t throw them out.

Primus help her if she finds him showing the trinkets off.

Bumblebee showing a couple of shiny rocks to Hound and Jazz. Bumblebee: “I just don’t know where she finds these things! Oh wait look at this one! She brought it in a couple of nights ago!” Buddy was walking by but stopped hearing the minibots voice. Bumblebee pulls out a rubber duck with little bee antennas: “Just look this!” Hound and Jazz look at the duck before seeing Buddy ‘hiding’ behind the corner with literal heart optics. She sighed quietly before practically skipping away. Jazz flashing Hound a knowing smile: “Yeah, sure is a pretty little thing, ain’t she?” Bumblebee nodding: “Yeah, it’s a pretty nice duck!” Hound raising his optic: “And what about Buddy? Are you going to get her something?” Bumblebee: “Well, yeah! The holiday’s are just around the corner. Anything for my best friend!” Jazz and Hound: “…”

There was also an increase in free Dino rides.

Sometimes he doesn’t even need to ask, Buddy would just go right by his side and either lay down by him or simply pick him up.

Buddy becomes extra protective when they have patrol or missions together.

Refuses to let him go too far from reach.

Bumblebee looking from the ledge of the cliff: “I think there’s something down there.” Buddy nervously looking at Bumblebee near the edge: “Bumblebee…” Spike on Bumblebee’s servo: “You think you can jump to the other side Bee?” Buddy looks horrified at the little human while the other bot started thinking. Bumblebee: “Hmm—HEY!” Buddy gently claps her jaws on his shoulder and yanks him back. The yellow minibot lands on his behind right by her side. Spike jumps from his servos. Bumblebee: “Buddy!” Buddy just sits down next to him, with her tail curled halfway around him: “You too close. You could fall.” She points with her tail to the ledge. Buddy: “Weak edge. Heavy autobot.” Bumblebee: “Huh, didn’t notice that. Thanks Buddy!” Spike: “Yeah thanks! We might have been pancakes if it weren’t for you!” Buddy puffs her chassis a bit and purrs a bit when Bumblebee pats her helm.

Most of the Autobot’s have two main drama’s.

The one they see on Teletran-one.

And Buddy’s love life.

The Dinobot team are banging their helms against the wall at their teammates attempt to court.

Grimlock is dying on the inside.

He truly respect’s his teammates boundaries and personal life… but even he has his limits when it comes to meddling.

Action needs to be taken.

Grimlock calls for an emergency meeting with the Autobots. Optimus: “Grimlock! Why have you called us here?” Ratchet: “What a minute, Buddy and Bumblebee are not here yet.” Grimlock: “Meets start now.” Prowl: “Grimlock why are we here?” Grimlock: "Me Grimlock tired of Buddy weak flirting. Autobots and Dinobot’s must act.” Wheeljack: “Did…did you just call an emergency meeting… because Buddy hasn’t confessed to Bumblebee yet?” Grimlock: “It was this or Me Grimlock going to get Doc bot to fix Buddy’s helm. It broken.” Ratchet sighing: “Grimlock, she isn’t broken—” Grimlock: “Then why she like this! It killing me Grimlock! It killing everybody!” Tracks: “Well, he isn’t wrong on the slow burn…” Hoist: “Tracks now it is not the time…” Huffer: “And how do we know Bumblebee feels the same way anyway? For all we know he just like her as a friend.” Swoop: “What if Bumble bot and Buddy go on date?” Mirage: “Like we set them up?” Wheeljack: “…That might work!” Powerglide: “I know plenty of places for a perfect date night! I’ll get them a place in no time!” Jazz turning to Blaster: “We can make a playlist for the two!” Blaster: “I already have ten songs picked out!” Grimlock: “Then we get ready! Autobot get Bumble bot and Dinobot get Buddy! Date night is a go!”

Optimus shakes his helm a bit but just watches the planning unfold.

Maybe a little help would do good for the pair…

[courtforshort15]

A Discussion of Choices

Pairing: Matt Murdock x AFAB Reader

Summary: you're not quite sure what to do about this new development, but Matt will be there, regardless of the choice

Trigger warning: conversation about abortion

Masterlist

****

Inspired by the overturning of Roe v Wade

Matt would 100000% support a person's right to choose and to make their own decisions regarding their own healthcare.

Maybe he'd feel a certain way about abortion, have his own personal beliefs regarding the topic, but ultimately I think he'd support a pregnant individual making the right choice for themselves.

Sorry about any typos, literally wrote this on my phone.

You weren't sure when you started crying.

At first, you had been too shocked to feel much of anything, really. Just absolutely numb to everything around you as the two pink lines grew bolder on the stick laid out on your bathroom counter. The timer hadn't even finished ticking down before the results were splayed out in front of you, your future staring you in the face.

Pregnant.

The word bounced across every corner, ledge, and crevice in your brain, speeding up and growing in noise with every pass.

It wasn't long before the breath in your chest struggled to get out, the panic ensnaring your body so completely that breathing was now out of the question. Your heart pounded so hard it felt like it was going to burst out of your chest, the thump-thump roaring so harshly in your ears that you vaguely wondered how Matt could ever stand hearing multiple heartbeats at once.

Matt.

The thought of him caused your body to jolt, the full body twitch imploring you to take a seat on the edge of the bathtub. You forcibly pushed down the bile rising from your stomach, rejecting the idea of losing the contents of your stomach to the toilet for the third time today.

Stumbling, you took the three steps to the bathtub, vision already swimming. Once sat, you buried your head in your hands, a wave of hot, downright miserable tears immediately rushing down your face as you hiccupped.

At first you tried to muffle the cries, biting your lip so hard it bled, but thirty seconds in and sobs wrenched themselves so brutally past your lips that silence wasn't even close to a possibility.

Under any other circumstance, you might have been embarrassed at how suddenly your face had turned a horrid mess of smeared mascara and blotchy skin. You allowed yourself a pass, just this once, as the word pregnant continued to torment your terrified mind.

This

This wasn't

This wasn't how this was supposed to happen.

The world sped back up around you as you cried, body curling in on itself as best as it could from where you sat.

You knew it wasn't the end of the world. You knew that. But it didn't stop you from feeling this heavy weight suddenly being shoved on to your shoulders, one you had always known was a possibility, but had actively chosen to ignore, relying on the pill and condoms to keep you protected from an unwanted pregnancy.

You didn't want kids. Or at least, you didn't want them right now. And Matt....well, you didn't know what he wanted.

You sobbed harder as ideas and thoughts and emotions ran through your head, unable to organize and form a coherent sentence, as if your own mind was on strike against you. You frantically sifted through all the different pieces of information you now needed to consider, trying to gain some sort of an upperhand on a situation that was very rapidly spiraling out of control.

What health insurance did you have? Where was their plan information? Was abortion covered?

Did you have enough money to pay for it?

Where did you need to set up an appointment? Was this something your normal doctor could help you with, or did you need to go somewhere else?

What was your current PTO balance? Did you have enough time off saved for the appointment?

How far along were you? Would it even be considered legal at this point?

What was Matt going to think?

You hated to admit it to yourself, but you couldn't decide if his feelings on the matter were the most important part of the equation, or the least.

You hadn't discussed your thoughts and needs and wishes on the matter. Five months had seemed too soon for such a topic, the two of you just enjoying your time together and seeing what could come of it, but children hadn't yet come up. Maybe it should have.

Your phone rang.

Startled, you reached over to grab it off of the counter, flinching when you saw his name flashing across the screen, as if he had known you were thinking of him. You toyed with the idea of rejecting the call, but grimaced when you realized he'd already called twice and you had failed to notice it. Your beautiful, passionate, stubborn boyfriend was your first thought in the morning and the last one at night, and suddenly he was the last person you wanted to talk to at the moment.

You knew he'd pick up on the fact that was something was wrong, and while you usually loved how perceptive he was and how he always knew what you needed before you did, right now you hated it. And even while you hated it, you were loathe to reject him, to deny him.

You often tried to tell yourself that you weren't as far gone on him as you were, but you failed. Repeatedly. Flat out crashed and burned every time.

Taking a deep breath, you accepted the call and put all of your effort into trying to sound as normal as possible, if only to avoid Matt Murdock's voice of concern that you often found yourself on the receiving end of. You knew he'd had a long day at the courthouse, and he deserved a night of peace, or at least a few hours of peace before throwing himself into the underworld that was Hell's Kitchen after dusk.

Luckily it was only 7pm and in the middle of summer, so he had a few hours left before the neighborhood's criminals truly came out to play.

"Hey, Matt."

"Hey, sweetheart," his voice floated up from the phone in your hand. "What are you up to?"

"Uh," you froze, trying to think up an excuse that didn't include sobbing in your bathroom. You ran a clumsy hand through your hair, ignoring the pain as it forced its way through the tangles that seemed ever-present on your head. "Just finished eating dinner."

"Oh, perfect," you could practically hear him grin. "We were just gonna hop over to Josie's for a few beers. You want to come join us?"

You sighed, pinching the bridge of your nose. Under any other circumstances, you would have loved to go hang out with your boyfriend and his friends. "I'm not...I'm not feeling super great. I'm just gonna go to bed."

Matt was quiet for a second, and you cringed. You almost always accepted their invitations. To decline now would send him a signal that something was very much off, and before he even spoke, you knew what he was going to suggest. "Are you ok? Look, I'll just head your way instead. I was with Foggy and Karen all day, I can hang out with them another time."

"No!" You choked out. "No, I'm fine, really. I just need to sleep it off."

He was quiet again, and when we spoke, his voice was a little more firm. "I'll be there in ten minutes. Can I bring you anything from the store?"

Fuck.

"No. I'm ok, I don't need anything. I'll leave the door unlocked, you can just come straight in." It was pointless arguing with the man once he had his mind set on something.

Thirteen minutes later you had managed to change into pajamas and were curled up on the couch, waiting on the man who had so abruptly changed your life, even before this unexpected equation was thrown into the mix. If you hadn't been nauseous earlier, you certainly were now.

There was a gentle knock on your front door before it opened, revealing the Concerned Face of Matt Murdock (TM) as he pushed his way into your apartment. His cane was folded up and placed on to the table you had next to the front door, and he took his red glasses off as he shut the door behind him. His unfocused eyes were aimed in your direction, a soft smile on his face.

He couldn't see you, but he saw you, in more ways than you had ever imagined a partner would be able to, would want to.

He had a grocery bag in his hand and you could spot the bright yellow color of your favorite flavor of Gatorade peaking out. For a man with so little concern for his own wellbeing, he sure had every little piece of information stored in his head regarding the things that you found comfort in when you weren't feeling well. If you hadn't been so nervous, you would have basked in how sweet the Devil of Hell's Kitchen was with you while simultaneously spending so much time bloodying his fists night after night.

"How are you feeling?" Matt asked as he made his way over to your couch. He got down on his knees in front of where you were laying, leaning down to place a gentle kiss on your forehead. His calloused hand found itself on your cheek as he pushed hair behind your ear. "You don't feel warm."

"I'm fine," you told him tiredly. "Just an awful headache." It technically wasn't a lie at that point. Dehydration had set in as a result of your crying episode earlier, and now your head was downright throbbing.

He hmmmd quietly in reply, his fingers toying with the lobe of your ear. "Did you take a Tylenol? I bought you some, wasn't sure if you had picked up another bottle after I depleted your stash."

You smirked slightly. "I'm surprised you don't have liver damage with how much Tylenol you take on a daily basis."

"Shh," he hushed you in good humor. "I'm trying to be a supportive boyfriend here. Don't call me out like that."

"A real supportive boyfriend would let me do what I needed to help numb my pain."

He grinned. "I draw the line at being insulted while trying to take care of you. My ego is fragile and it deserves the same care and affection I am giving you."

You rolled your eyes fondly. "Maybe you shouldn't be such a baby."

The word slipped out so suddenly that you couldn't stop your body from having the reaction it did.

Baby.

Terror.

Anxiety.

Utter panic.

The reaction was so intense that it instantly (and unexpectedly) put Matt on edge. He froze, his focus on you sharpening, and God, you could practically see the hair on his skin rising.

"What is it?" He all but demanded. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," you choked out, chest still tight. "It's nothing." You halfheartedly tried to push him away as he crowded further into your space.

"I've never felt you react like that," he stated fiecerly. "That wasn't nothing."

"Matt-"

He pretty much growled out your name, effectively cutting you off. "Your heart is pounding, I can feel you struggling to breathe. Tell me what that was."

"Alright, alright," you forced out, trying to rotate on to your back, but his sudden hand on your shoulder stopped you.

Sighing, steeling yourself against the possible fall out of this revelation, you mummbled, "I'm pregnant."

Matt froze, unseeing eyes widening. His posture was still stiff, but you seemed to have knocked him off his feet, so to speak. He cleared his throat loudly. "What?"

"You heard me, Matt," you whispered, sitting up slowly, grateful when he finally let you move as he swayed slightly on his knees. "Pregnant."

Matt licked his lips, as he often did when he was nervous. "You're...you're sure?"

"Yup. Took the test three times. To be honest, I'm surprised you can't hear a heartbeat. Must not be that far along," you said faintly, playing with the hem on your sleep shorts. With every breath he didn't say something, your panic grew, until he placed a gentle, yet shaking hand over yours and rose up from his spot on the floor to sit beside you on the couch.

"And...how are you feeling about it?" He asked cautiously. You laughed, trying not to sound bitter, knowing he didn't deserve it.

"Not great," you told him honestly, almost flinching at your own words. "I, uh...we haven't had this talk yet, have we?"

"The sex talk? Bit too late for that," he deadpanned, though his lips caught a quick smirk at the end. A sudden laugh burst out from your chest, this time one that was more genuine.

"No," you shook your head, smile fading. "The...baby talk. As in, do you want babies? In a general sense, I guess."

Matt hmmmd again, though this time he did so as he leaned back against your couch, settling in for what you both knew would be a heavy conversation. You brought your hand up to your mouth to pick at the hang nail on your thumb. It was one of your major tells for any sort of anxiety you were feeling, and Matt quickly caught on to it, pulling your hand into his before it could make its way to your mouth. It was extremely settling, and you wanted to cry at his display of casual yet intentional comfort he offered you.

"No, we haven't," he agreed, briefly kissing the back of the hand he now held in his, before sliding his fingers through yours and bringing it down to his lap. "I guess we're getting that opportunity now."

"Seems so," you replied, fighting hard not to fold in on yourself in prepartion of what you were about to say. This conversation with him needed to be open and honest, and you didn't want him to think you were holding yourself back from him, even while the topic was difficult. "So...I can start first. I don't think I want kids. Especially not now."

"Okay," Matt said easily and without pause. "That's okay."

You were almost taken aback at how simple he made that acceptance sound. Swallowing, you soldiered on.

"And you?"

"To be completely honest, I haven't really thought about it."

"Seriously?"

"Yeah," he shrugged. "Most of my life has been about reacting to what's going on in front of me, not what was super far down the line. I had to pass a class, had to prep for a case, had to fight a man mugging an old woman, had to seduce the pretty, citrus-scented girl Foggy introduced to me." He gave you a smirk at that last one, reminding you of the night you had met five months ago when Foggy had been playing Matt's wingman at a bar in midtown. "But those were all things that were short-term goals, nothing long term."

"Oh, I'm just short term?"

Matt barked out a laugh, pulling you to lean against him as his other hand settled across your shoulder from over the couch. "That's not how I meant that."

"You're doing great at this baby talk, Matt," you told him. "You've made this super simple. No need having the baby talk with a man who was never planning on sticking around long enough anyway."

"Shut up," he you told you affectionately, placing a kiss on to the top of your head. "Can I finish?"

"You did finish. That's why we're here and having this conversation."

"Jesus." He was still laughing, and you found yourself grinning in return, unable to deny yourself, and him, this moment of happiness in an otherwise serious conversation. "As I was saying...I haven't really ever though of kids. If the person I was with wanted them, I'd be open to discussing it. And if the person I was with didn't want them, then I'd be very happy to enjoy our lives, just the two of us."

You were silent as your absorbed his words, brain trying to keep up.

"That's you, by the way," he said when you didn't respond right away. "The person I'm with...I'm hoping it's always you."

"It's only been five months," was all you said. The objection sounded weak, even to your own ears.

"I knew after one." Matt squeezed your hand, another kiss placed to the top of your head. "But even if...even if our situation was different, even if I really wanted kids, or even if this was short term, I'd still want you to do what's best for you."

"But this involves you, too," you said. "I know that I'm the one who makes the final decision, but your opinion matters, too."

"I know. And I'm not sure how I would have reacted if you'd done something without telling me, knowing what we are to each other, but this is your call. I support you either way."

"Ok," you nodded, taking a deep breath, finding a sense of relief in what he had said, but unable to completely squash down your anxiety. "But are you sure? I know how you feel about...killing. Is that what you think this would be?"

"No," he said adamantly.

"But you're Catholic."

"Doesn't matter." He was still shaking his head. "This a medical procedure. It is a personal decision. This, what's growing inside you, has the potential to be more, of course it does. But that's not where we're at right now."

"Some people believe life begins at conception."

"Maybe it does. Maybe it doesn't," Matt shrugged. "But your life matters, too, and I want you to be happy in it. I need you to be happy in it. And if this is what you need to be happy, then I support that choice."

You were crying again. You tried to take your hand from his to cover your face, but he wouldn't let you. Instead, he rejected the idea of you hiding yourself from him so completely that he pulled you fully into his lap.

"It's so hard," you mumbled into his neck. "It's a really hard decision to make."

"I know, sweetheart," he soothed quietly, playing with the ends of your hair.

"I don't want this," you all but whimpered. "Not yet. And maybe not ever."

"Okay. That's okay." He shifted to pull you closer. "What do you need from me?"

"I need you to come with me. Please?"

"Of course. You don't even have to ask." Matt lifted your joined hands to kiss the back of yours again. "And maybe, while we're there, we can ask about something that might help us not to have to make this decision again. Maybe something that might...be an option for me?"

You picked up on what he was saying and made a noise of disagreement. "I can't ask you to do that."

"You're not, I'm offering. If we change our minds in a few years, there's usually success with a procedure that will reverse it."

"I...just don't make the decision lightly, please," you said, fidgeting with the buttons on his shirt. "Not yet, not for me."

"For us, then."

You sniffed loudly.

"...okay," you settled more fully against him, and he responded by squeezing you to him tighter. You didn't know what you'd done to deserve this man. "For us."

You held each other for a few moments of silence before you spoke again. The weight of the pregnancy was still heavy on your shoulders, but Matt was willingly sharing that burden with you, and you found that it didn't seem so awful to bear.

"Thank you," you said quietly. "Thank you for understanding."

"No need to thank me, sweetheart," Matt whispered, pulling back far enough to touch his forehead to yours. "I'll always be in your corner, no matter what."

And you believed him.

If you're planning on leaving a negative comment, please don't. A lot people are hurting over this. The point of this isn't to offend or start arguments, just to highlight the struggles that many AFAB indivduals, and their loved ones, are faced with, regardless of their circumstances.

****

[hawksugarbaby]

Hawks x reader- snowed in

Fluff

The snow piled up around the door like Icing sugar decorating a cake and the windows frosted over with frozen icicles dangling from the ledge, threatening to pierce the soft snow. "It's so cold Kei" you ran your hands up and down your cold arms layered in goosebumps and pressed your glacial feet against his calves making him jolt forward "JESUS CHRIST!" he shouted wiggling away from your feet making you giggle.

"I'll put the heating on and close the curtains? That might help" he shrugged sending a crimson feather to do the work for him "mhm, you mean your wings will do it for you" you smile softly curling into his side and he grinned putting his arm on your head "you make a wonderful armrest" the bedsheets crinkled and shifted with your feet that kicked his shin jokingly "ouch, i'm in agony" he said casually without any indication he was in pain (because he wasn't) and you pouted angrily turning your head away from him which made his arm fall onto the bed "aw i'm sorry princess, you make a wonderful girlfriend too!" he kissed the back of your neck wrapping his arms around you and rolling you on top of him. "I love you~" he sang, drawing out the love and you dropped your annoyed expression, A bright smile etched on your face instead. "I love you too!"

Keigo wrapped his wings around you blanketing you in crimson feathers that kept the heat as close to you as possible. "Your pretty kei." you said bluntly, keeping your (e/c) eyes on his ruby pools "thank you baby so are you" you said kissing the tip of your nose making your face scrunch up and your eye's crinkle at the corners in a smile. Your legs tangled together and your arms were going numb, crushed between you and your boyfriends chard chest from the lack of options on where to put them.

"Your wings are so warm" you muttered nuzzling into his chest like a big cat, the thumping of his heart was steady and soothing and you matched your breathing to his without reasoning "are they? I never knew that" he sighed placing one hand against your head stroking your hair softly. "Yeah they're like a whole ass radiator connected to you" you said and he hummed in response. "A whole ass radiator?" he repeated teasingly and you snickered "a whole ass radiator" the confirmation made the two of you laugh slightly and keigo peeked out the window, the blinding white blurred from the frozen glass but as if waiting for it a frozen stalagmite fell from the ledge impaling the snow quickly. "Thank god we're not standing under those right now" keigo mumbled and closed the curtain again.

"I wish we could build a snowman or something" you sighed, leaning your head up again and wiggling to find comfort "yeah me too we could have- ow okay you just kneed me in the dick and I do not appreciate that" he wheezed his face burning red and eyes streaming tears "oh my god i'm so sorry I didn't even realise" you gasped kissing his face over and over as if it would alleviate some of the pain, you wiped the tears running down his face with your sleeve and buried your face in his chest. "y'could kiss it better" he teased earning a slap in the chest "KEIGO!" his chest vibrated and he squirmed.

"that feels fucking weird. Don't shout at my lungs what did they do to you?" he turned his face away like a dramatic character from a Shakespeare play and you rolled your eyes "I dunno but your still breathing so they have that to apologize for" keigo's mouth fell open in shock and his eye's rounded in amusement "i'm hurt" "no your not you liar" "I am truly in pain, I don't think I can go on" he clutched his shirt and said "just know I always loved you" then sank his head onto the pillow heavily his tongue lolling outside of his mouth.

You wailed loudly and dropped the back of your hand to your forehead "whyy! My one and only love, I'm sorry I never should have treated you so cruelly" your dramatization made the blonde laugh and you gasped "HE'S ALIVE!" the volume of your shouting was enough to have the neighbors bang on the wall in annoyance "SORRY MY BOYFRIEND WAS FUCKING DYING!" you shouted through the wall and rolled your eyes sinking back into keigo's chest and turning to your cheek rested against him instead. "Rude" you tutted and Keigo nodded in agreement, knocking his head against the headboard that banged against the wall annoying the neighbors further.

"Keigo I have a question" you lead the conversation and keigo panicked, what if you proposed, what if you asked him to propose, what if you wanted a dog, what if you wanted kids, what if you wanted food, oh god what if you wanted takeaway! With the snow building up to the letterbox he didn't imagine you would manage to get any takeaway to the house right now. Please don't want takeaway. "Do you like this house?" okay it's not takeaway "I think i'm content here but I wouldn't mind something new" he admit scratching the back of his neck and looking at the wall behind him "not a fan of the neighbors either" he stuck his tongue out and you chuckled drumming your fingers against his forearm.

"so I was wondering if you maybe, at some point it doesn't have to be now, and you don't have to make a decision right now but-" "spit it out princess, your stalling" he smiled stroking your cheek gently with his thumb and you sighed mumbling something under your breath earning a glower from your boyfriend. "Would you wanna move in with me? Eventually, If you want, you don't have to but I think it would be nice" you lowered your voice at the end.

Keigo laughed and kissed the top of your head "yeah I think that would be nice" he agreed and you grinned, a giddy feeling developing in your head and you wiggled in excitement. "If you keep wiggling your gonna create a problem you'll have to deal with" he smirked and you immediately stopped moving "I take back the proposition you can stay here with your horny ass." you tapped him on the nose sitting up and moving so you were straddling his stomach.

His wings couldn't wrap around you as well when you were sitting up so he dragged a blanket over your shoulders and tucked his wings back underneath him. "Could we get a bigger house? Maybe one with a nursery..." you trailed off. Fuck. there was the kid's question he was afraid of. Keigo figured he should ask the all important question soon, you had been dating for 4 years but keigo had never been so committed to a relationship before, maybe it was the abandonment issues or how his job filled up his life but you were special you were different. Maybe it was time for this conversation then.

"You want kids with me?" he asked in disbelief sitting himself up and sitting against the headboard analyzing you carefully like a trap "of course I want kids with you. Not right now but in the future i'd like kids" keigo had never come to terms with the idea of someone wanting to spend their life with him but as the snow fell caging you in he suddenly didn't mind more days like this. Talking and cuddling for the rest of time would be amazing but kids were scary to him, he wanted to be better than his father and he wanted to be there for his kids, pick them up from school and help them with homework but would his work get in the way?

"Kei I know you had an awful childhood, and I understand why you might feel... cautious about the idea of having children, but you are the only person I would even ever consider worthy of dating me never mind raising our kids" you comforted, kissing him softly placing your hand on his and squeezing tightly. "I just don't know if i'd ever be a good dad, i'm barely a good person, I literally just about function as a human" his eyes darted around the room for something to focus on but they kept landing on you. You were what he should focus on right now. "Baby you would be an amazing dad, a busy one yes, but an incredible one! And sure you're a little dysfunctional but so am I! Your an amazing person and I love you okay and if you don't want kids right now that's okay, we have all the time in the world-" "-we have until menopause" "we have until menopause"

He sighed and swallowed thickly "okay." he said curtly, nodding away to himself and pulling you in for a hug wrapped up by his wings. "Okay?" you raised your eyebrows and tilted your hand rubbing your cold hands up his back "I'd like kids eventually. But not right now I think I wanna marry you first" he sighed brushing your hair behind your ear and pulling you into a tight hug and crossing his fluffy wings behind you "y-you wanna marry m-me?" you stuttered and he laughed "of course I wanna marry you I just don't know your ring size yet and I didn't know if you want to marry me" he kissed your forehead and you smiled softly "of course I wanna marry you!" you exclaim wrapping your arms around him and barraging him with kisses across the bridge of his nose. "I'm glad because I wanna marry you too"

You lay there for a while longer just talking, it didn't matter what you talked about, you made a conversation out of it. "Can we PLEASE get a cat" you whined giving him your biggest puppy dog eyes but he remained stoic "we're not getting a fucking cat they just try to pull my feathers out and it's really annoying" he shook his head raising his palms to the sky "but they grow baack" you wiggled your arms and he chuckled and pet you on the head "i'm sorry baby it just really hurts and I don't wanna deal with that every day" he apologized and you sighed knowing you wouldn't get your way "what about a puppy then" "babyy"

You snuggled once again into his chest, filled with joy at the prospect of marrying keigo. "The snow isn't clearing up" keigo sighed knowing there wasn't much in his fridge right now "I don't have much to eat but I don't think I could get groceries right now" he tapped his chin and you popped your head up "to the kitchen we shall go and imma make the best damn meal we've ever had" you challenged yourself and keigo smirked "I could have you for dinner" he nuzzled into your neck and chuckled and you tutted tapping him on the head "Sorry baby you aren't a big enough portion size for me" you quickly jumped up dragging the blanket behind you like a cape and disappearing around the corner like the phantom of the opera. "My dignity" he lamented and strolled behind you.

You opened the fridge and immediately shut it again "you have chicken" "yep" "and only chicken" "yep" you smirked to himself and you sighed pinching the bridge of your nose and opening the fridge again and digging for something that resembled a meal. Eventually you had a chicken breast, a couple strips of prosciutto, various cheeses, flour, various spices, basil leaves, butter and olive oil. "Put a pan on with olive oil and butter will you love" you pulled out a chopping board and got to work butterflying the chicken breast "yes chef!"

You stuffed the chicken breast and basil and wrapped it back up in the prosciutto keeping it sealed together. "is the pan warm?" you asked, eating a handful of grated cheddar in the meantime and he nodded holding his hands over the pan for heat "OW okay rude" he pulled his hand off when freckles of oil jumped up and burned his hands. "Silly" you put the chicken in the pan and you jumped at the sizzling whirling behind hawks who folded his wings around you "it's okay baby don't worry" he said going full protection mode.

You served the meal and garnished it with basil and cheese skipping back to bed to eat the meal together. "Y'know this does look better than any KFC I've ever eaten" he praised and wrapped his wing around you turning on the tv that you only really needed for background noise as you usually talked over it anyway. "Hey kei" "yeah baby?" "I hope it snows like this all the time"

[jmbringitonworld]

Brothers Once More

AO3 link for those who prefer to read fics there.

I wrote this over a month ago, but as soon as I was about to go over it one final time and post it, I was suddenly struck by inspiration for another fic, which I had to immediately write out while the plot bunny was still firmly latched onto my brain. So this has been gathering dust, patiently waiting until my mind was finally devoid of all other fics, which just happens to be now! I'm so glad to be sharing this, finally, because it means a lot to me. I absolutely love the Dreamtale brothers, and, for very personal reasons, have the biggest feels for reconciliation between siblings.

While this oneshot doesn't feature my Fallen Star Frisk, Lumi, it does mention her quite a bit, so if you want to know more about her and her relationship with Dream, see my other works Starry Eyed and Stargazing. It's not required to have read either of those works to follow this one, but they do help give meaningful context to what's said here.

Nightmare and Dream belong to Jokublog, but my version of Nightmare differs quite a bit from canon Corrupt!Nightmare. Namely the fact that mine is, in fact, the real Nightmare, and Dream’s actual brother, and not what essentially amounts to a possessed zombie. There are probably plenty of other differences, but I’m far too attached to my own version of these babies to care about canon, beyond acknowledging that they aren’t exactly the same.

_____________________________________________

The Ebott Quadrant was silent, empty, its former prisoners having abandoned it years ago, when the forcefield keeping them trapped in that particular part of space had been broken. And so, with the monsters having fled for new horizons, to the far-flung reaches of the galaxy, the deserted asteroid belt was the perfect place for two recently-reconciled brothers to spend some quality time together, in peace and privacy, as they attempted to mend a bond broken centuries ago.

While Dream and Nightmare were sat on the edge of a rocky platform, floating lazily in the vacuum of space, with their legs dangling over the ledge, the two outcodes struggled to make small talk, their conversation stilted and forced, despite Dream’s best efforts, their childhood closeness long since destroyed by bitterness, miscommunication, and far too much fighting. It was painfully apparent that too many years of too much animosity, would not be easily erased, the gap between them too wide to bridge without a great deal of time and effort. But both brothers had time aplenty to spare, and a willingness to try. They had both agreed, one with a full heart, the other in a quiet voice, that the bond they’d once shared was worth whatever difficulties they would face to rebuild it.

And so here they were, eating nice cream lollies together, in the very same Outertale AU where Dream had first laid eyelights on Lumi, the fallen star he had come to love. The estranged twins were sat side by side, not touching but closer than they’d been in centuries, outside of battle. However, the distance between them, both literal and figurative, left an ache in Dream’s soul. Idly nibbling on his popsicle, Dream gazed at the distant stars, his mind drifting to his own, beloved star.

“Wow, this place sure does bring back memories,” Dream remarked, more to himself than to Nightmare, as he smiled to himself in fond reminiscence, his legs swinging back and forth in the emptiness. “It feels like only yesterday that Lumi and I first met... The past few years passed by so quickly.”

To his right, Nightmare hummed, chewing on nice cream as his tentacles haltingly reached out towards Dream, curling and uncurling, close but not quite touching him, before retreating to their master’s side, writhing with nervous energy.

“I know what you mean,” he spoke up for the first time in a while, his deep, rumbling voice lacking its usual menace and arrogance, as the dark being grappled with his own awkwardness at his current situation, unsure of how to act around his former nemesis. “I still vividly remember the day my Frisk suddenly appeared out of nowhere in my castle, all lost and confused. And now, we’re... engaged. It has yet to truly sink in. I’m uncertain if it will ever feel real to me.”

Dream beamed at his brother, his star-shaped golden eyelights sparkling as he practically vibrated with excitement.

“Yeah, I can hardly believe it myself! You , getting married ! Incredible!!”

Nightmare shot him an affronted look.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” he growled at Dream, who raised his hands up placatingly.

“Nothing bad, I swear! I only meant that I still remember how shy you were back... then . You’ve never been the type to make friends, and now, well, you’re even less sociable than before. I’m just... so happy to know that you’ve found someone who loves you for who you are, enough to want to bind herself to you for eternity,” Dream gave his brother the most earnest look he could, hoping to convey his sincerity. “I really mean it, Night. I’m so happy for you.”

Nightmare stared mutely at Dream for a few seconds, before he whipped his skull away, trying to hide the way his teal eyelight wavered in his socket. Emotions welled up within him, powerful and strange to the pseudo-Guardian of Negativity, and he viciously tried to stamp them down, feeling vulnerable and raw. His tentacles hesitantly poked at Dream, seeming to want to touch him properly, but too afraid to do more than lightly prod at his arms and back. Dream stayed perfectly still, despite the liquid negativity making his bones itch, and allowed the tentative touches, while inwardly hoping for more, but not wanting to push too hard and scare Nightmare away. For his brother, Dream could be patient.

Eventually, Nightmare could no longer stand the silence, nor his twin’s warm smile, and, desperate to change the subject, blurted out the first thought that came into his skull.

“So what’s going on with you and that star?”

Dream blinked. “Huh?”

Nightmare impatiently tapped his phalanges on the hard ground, as he struggled not to fidget, though his tentacles wriggled in agitation.

“I’m asking you when you two hopeless fools are finally going to get together, and officially start dating.”

Dream blushed a bright yellow, the colour overtaking his entire skull, as he instantly fell for his brother’s attempt to deflect the conversation away from himself. It was now Dream’s turn to fidget awkwardly, as he averted his eyelights, his bones almost rattling with nervous energy, and his fist unconsciously tightening its grip around his ice pop.

“I-I don’t know what you mean, Brother!” Dream winced as his voice came out louder and higher-pitched than he’d intended. Flustered, he attempted to lower his voice, but his words still came out jittery. “We’re just f-friends, we’re not-.... we wouldn’t... It’s just not like that, between us, okay?!”

Nightmare smirked, feeling much more at ease, now that they were no longer discussing his relationship with his fiancée (he dutifully ignored the rush of giddiness he felt at that last thought). He inwardly admitted to himself that he greatly enjoyed seeing his brother squirm like that, despite no longer hating him or blaming him for what happened in the past. It was rare for his normally so bold and self-assured twin, to act so visibly ruffled. He may no longer have any desire to harm his fellow not-quite-Guardian, but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t take full advantage of this delightful opportunity, to tease and embarrass Dream as much as possible. After all, wasn’t that something big brothers did?

“Come now, Brother,” the gentle, reassuring tone of his voice belied the teasing glint in his single eyelight, as the corners of his mouth tugged upwards in amusement. His tentacles slithered languidly towards Dream, resting against his right leg and his back. “You’re not exactly subtle . It’s painfully obvious that you have feelings for the star.”

Dream’s blush deepened and he buried his skull in his hands with a mortified squeak. Nightmare’s smile widened at that, as he chuckled to himself at his brother’s expense, before he settled back, and gave Dream a considering look. After a moment, he sighed softly, his expression becoming serious, devoid of his previous mirth.

“Dream, you and I both know, better than anyone else, the importance of being honest with yourself and your emotions. You must tell her how you really feel. Don’t keep ignoring your own heart, it never ends well. Trust me, Brother.”

His gaze darkened, memories of a childhood spent being tormented by fearful villagers, flashing through his mind. Dream stared sadly at his brother, old regrets bubbling up inside him, before he looked away, trying to focus on the matter at hand, namely what he would and should do about his not-so-secret love for Lumi.

“I... I can’t ,” Dream eventually forced out, his voice tight and pained. “I just can’t tell her, Night. It wouldn’t be right, to dump my feelings on her like that. Not when she has her own worries to deal with.”

Nightmare frowned at him, clearly dissatisfied with his answer, but Dream ploughed on.

“And it’s not like we can even be together anyway! I promised her that I would help her find a way home. She... she belongs in the sky, with her sisters. I know she misses them, so much , even if she doesn’t want to dwell on it, and I have to reunite them. I know what it’s like to be separated from your siblings, after all. I won’t let her suffer any longer! I’d rather break my own heart, if it means hers won’t anymore!”

As Dream’s impassioned words rang out into the stillness of space, Nightmare watched his brother with an unreadable expression. He glanced down, seeming to gather himself, before turning his skull upwards, towards distant, out of reach stars.

“Has it ever occurred to you that maybe Lumi doesn’t want to go back?”

Dream whipped his skull around, a protest on his lips, before pausing, as he caught sight of the intense look on his brother’s skull.

“Wh-why would you say that?” he asked quietly, and startled when Nightmare let out an angry huff, viciously taking a bite out of his nice cream lolly.

“Not everyone is eager for things to go back to the way they used to be,” his voice was low and tense, his tentacles coiling around themselves, viscous, tar-like darkness dripping off them and forming small, black puddles on the rocky floor. “Not everyone clings desperately to the past. Maybe Lumi isn’t as fond of her ‘home’ as you think.”

Dream looked troubled at Nightmare’s words, at a loss as to how to respond, but his brother didn’t seem to be paying him any mind. Instead, his gaze was far off, fixed on something only he could see, grief shining in his eyelight.

“I can sympathise, if so,” his voice was softer than Dream had ever heard it, since the... incident , and the light being was astounded at the compassion he could feel emanating from his dark twin. Nightmare’s expression softened further, as sorrow coloured his tone. “Being all alone, with no friends, having no one pay attention to you, not one single person caring about you except for your siblings... If it were me, I certainly wouldn’t want to go back to that. Even if... even if it meant... sacrificing my relationship with the only family I have.”

Dream stilled, feeling conflicted as he considered that thought, a painful ache growing in his rib cage as it really hit him, again, just how much the two people he loved most had suffered in the past, with him being none the wiser, but Nightmare wasn’t done speaking just yet. With a forceful shake of his skull, as if shaking off his lingering anguish, the living embodiment of negativity turned to face his brother.

“And even if the star doesn’t feel that way, even if she does, indeed, wish to return to her place in the sky... You should still confess your feelings to her,” Nightmare insisted, his tone bordering on pleading. “Don’t hide them, or pretend that they don’t exist! If only I’d been more forthcoming about my own feelings, my own misery, back when we were children, then maybe...” he trailed off, then shook himself, refusing to allow himself to consider what ifs or what might have been. Nothing good could come from that line of thinking. “The point is, I know the cost of not sharing how you truly feel, with those closest to you. Please, Brother... Don’t make the same mistakes I did.”

Silence descended upon the brothers. Nightmare took one final bite of his ice lolly, shoving the entire frozen treat into his mouth, before yanking the wooden stick handle out and carelessly tossing it aside, absentmindedly watching it drift further and further away, out into the depths of space. Dream sat quietly, unusually still, as he digested what he’d been told, mulling over the words. Eventually, he seemed to come to a conclusion.

“You’re... you’re right, Night,” he whispered at last. “I’ll... I’ll tell Lumi how I really feel about her. And I’ll ask her how she really feels, about me and about returning to the sky. Whatever answer she gives me, I’ll accept it. I’ll be satisfied with having been honest, both to her, and to myself.” He closed his eye sockets, took a deep breath, then opened them again and turned to give Nightmare a grateful smile. “Thanks Brother. Thank you for being here for me, and telling me what I needed to hear. I... I can’t tell you how much it means to me.”

Nightmare pointedly turned his skull away from Dream, a teal blush spreading across his cheeks.

“You’re exaggerating,” he waved his hand dismissively, affecting nonchalance despite his obvious embarrassment and still-present blush. “I merely offered you some very obvious advice. I’m certain that any one of your half-witted ‘friends’ would have told you something similar.”

But Dream insistently shook his skull.

“No, I mean it, Night!” his emphatic tone and the fervent look in his eyelights gave Nightmare pause. “I really mean it. I really am so, so grateful to have you give me advice, to have you act like my big brother again. It hasn’t been the same without you; friends, no matter how close we are, just can’t compare to you. I’ve... really... missed you, Brother,” Nightmare’s eyelight widened in alarm as Dream’s voice wavered, and yellow tears gathered at the corners of his eye sockets. “I’ve... missed you... so much... so... much ...”

Dream’s voice trailed off, his emotions finally overwhelming him, and he stopped trying to hold back the sobs from wracking his body, the half-melted, half-eaten nice cream lolly falling from his numb phalanges, and drifting away and out into the cosmos. After being so used to holding his negative feelings in for so, so long, Dream found that he no longer had the will to force down that part of himself any longer, not now that he finally had his beloved brother back by his side. And so, he gave in to his still-persisting pain and grief over the loss of his brother for so long, crying his heart out for all that he’d lost, all that he’d suffered, for all this time.

Nightmare was completely caught off guard by the sudden outpouring of negativity from his brother, who was meant to be the very embodiment of positivity. Dream had always been the type to hide his pain with a smile, never letting on how much he was hurting on the inside, and always, without fail, presenting an appearance of unwavering positivity and optimism. To see his brother so openly distraught, not even trying to supress his negative feelings...

Nightmare hesitated, unsure what action to take, and uncomfortable with every option available to him, before he grit his teeth and, purposely turning his skull away, closed the distance between them and put his left arm around Dream’s shoulders, tugging him closer.

Dream stilled at the touch, his crying coming to an abrupt halt, though he continued to sniffle softly, as his eyelights widened. At that moment, he wanted nothing more than to throw his arms around his brother and hug him tightly for all he was worth, just like he used to when they were children, but he restrained himself, not wanting to make Nightmare any more uncomfortable than he already was, and contented himself with leaning into his twin’s hold. Nightmare froze for a second, before relaxing minutely, his tentacles retreating into his back as his arm tightened ever so slightly around Dream.

Pressed against his brother’s side, Dream could feel cold goop seeping into his clothes, the inky corruption an unpleasant sensation against his bones, but beyond that, he could feel something else. This close to the other outcode, Dream could sense, through the mass of corrupted negativity, a tiny flicker of warmth, the still-burning flame that was, and would always be, his brother. And it whispered to him ‘ I miss you ’, ‘ I'm sorry ’, and ‘I love you ’, and Dream leaned further into his brother’s body, wrapping his right arm around Nightmare’s back, and closed his eye sockets, listening with his shining, golden apple soul to the words he’d long wished to hear.

Even though it wasn’t the same as it used to be, even though their relationship would never be as it once was, despite everything, they were still brothers. And right then, that was all that mattered to them.

~~

~~

~~

BONUS: 

Error was comfortably sat on a rock platform, floating in space. He might have hated AUs in principle, but he could admit that he hated Outertale Aus slightly less than others, besides Undernovela. He had detected an odd blip from this particular one, dating some years ago, but the AU was currently stable and, more importantly, deserted, since the monsters were freed, so he didn’t bother to investigate the anomaly further.

He’d decided to come here, by himself, to get some peace and quiet away from his family. While he very much loved his wife and children, more than he’d ever thought himself capable of loving anyone or anything, he did still value his alone time. And his darling wife had shooed him away with a fond smile, reassuring him that she’d be fine looking after their kids for the day, so who was he to say no to his dear wifey? It was also a lot harder to get any knitting done with the kids running all about the house, and glitching through the walls, and he really did want to finish knitting these socks for Blueberry’s upcoming birthday.

It was while he was blissfully ignorant of all but the yarn he was steadily turning into socks, that a small object suddenly hit him in the back of his skull. Startled, Error dropped his knitting supplies and shifted around, to grab hold of the offending object. It was a little wooden stick. Glaring at it in bewilderment, he failed to notice a half-eaten, melting nice lolly hit him in the side of his skull, with a wet smack. Feeling cold, wet, spit-covered nice cream sliding down his skull, error messages filled his eye sockets as the former destroyer of AUs started glitching out in rage.

“W-Wh@t th£ F-F#€K!!”

_____________________________________________

Error belongs to Crayon Queen/Loverofpiggies. I just love teasing this anti-social man-baby XD His wife is a version of Frisk, but I've left it ambiguous which one, so it could be Core!Frisk, or it could be a different one (mine is too complicated for me to include directly in my fics, but she lives rent-free in my head at all times).

One of these days, when I'm done with some of my other WIPs, I'll finally write about Brightmare!Frisk, Nightmare's wife. She appeared briefly in my April Fool's Day fic (and in some of my short snippet works), but I really want to write about her backstory and her relationship dynamic with Noot and his gang. It's still a ways off, but it's a dream of mine (pun not intended but fully embraced). Just gotta keep working on my Lost Child series first.

[papermoonloveslucy]

MEET THE PRESS

August 3, 1969

You are clued into the frank and tough talk to come by the way Lucille Ball swipes away with her handkerchief at the flies threatening the hors d’oeuvres The kerchief almost snaps like a wet towel. 

The scene is the pool patio of her home on Beverly Hills’ Roxbury Drive and a cocktail party is in progress for visiting television editors. 

Lucy has just emerged from the main house. She wears a powder blue double-breasted slack suit and saucer-sized sun glasses. In the blazing sun her orange hair has the color intensity of hot coals. 

She has counted heads. Husband-producer Gary Morton is there. So are Desi Arnaz IV her son, and Lucy her daughter. And her TV side-kick Gale Gordon with his wife. Plus a half-dozen of her staff and CBS emissaries. There have been introductions all round to the newspaper types. It is time, she announces, to talk and she waves everybody into the big and comfortable pool house. A table has been positioned so that she can sit there presiding as she used to do at the stockholders’ meetings of the old Desilu Studios. 

Almost immediately some wag fields her the question: “Lucy do you run the show?” She flashes him that big innocent TV look of hers. A staff member jumps up “Let’s all answer that one for her” There is a resounding “YES” from family-and-cast. Everybody laughs uproariously.

Very few questions are required to prime the pump. Lucy, it seems, has some matters of personal irritation on her mind and as far as she is concerned they come tumbling out without any prodding from her would-be interrogators. 

First of all, she asks rhetorically, what’s all this business about whether she would retire? “I never said I wanted to quit or retire. There was a time when I was willing to quit but nobody asked me. Now I’ve set a date when I’ll retire” 

A lot of ears perk up Somebody asks slyly — when? She’s waiting for that. Her answer is smilingly emphatic: “When I drop dead in my tracks.” 

She turns then without anybody’s questioning to the matter of her longevity in television. This is her 18th year on the tube and it used to be talked about that she traded her popularity to CBS in return for its buying other shows produced by her company. This evokes an almost visible jet of steam out of the top of her carrot locks. “I never at any time sold any of the 20 shows our company produced on the basis of my returning each season. I’ve said that literally hundreds of times and nobody believed it.” 

She went on to make it clear that she also dislikes the “big business” image which has adhered to her over the years. “I never like to talk about big money. I make my deal and that’s all. It’s been mostly a matter of legal procedures.” 

As the star wades into these fiscal subjects your eye roams over the assemblage. Young Desi in tennis togs impassively studies the smoke curling up from a cigarette. Young Lucy clutches her hands around her knees and stares intently at her mother. Husband Gary sitting on a ledge at the back of the room swings his legs and smiles. 

There has been no mention of Desi the elder the former husband Lucy’s co-performer and co-founder of Desilu Studios (now sold). Earlier this writer had chatted briefly with young Desi. He said he saw his father off and on and spends his summers as a rule at the father’s beach home at Delmar, south of Los Angeles. 

The youngster asked if I knew his grandfather Dr. Desiderio Arnaz who lives in Coral Gables.  (1)

But back to Lucy She’s telling us how many years it took to realize that as Lucille Ball she had attained V.I.P. status.

She reviews the years she spent trying to make it in show business, first on the stage, then as a model, and finally in the movies. Much of the time she says she stagnated. Until television came along. 

“I never had any sense of importance. I was very pliable always willing to do what I was told It wasn’t until one day I saw in print somewhere some actress described as a ‘Lucille Ball type’ that I knew suddenly I was somebody and a part of the business.” 

From there on the interview jumps from subject to subject. 

I ask her whatever happened to the project Dean Martin’s producer Greg Garrison had for starring Martin, her, and Jackie Gleason in a revival of the musical “Guys and Dolls.”  (2)

“I never said I would do it. Garrison kept publicizing it, but he never cleared it with me. I do still want to do ‘Diamond Jim’ with Jackie It’s just a matter of finding the time.” (3)

A lady editor wants to know how Lucy keeps her sinuous figure. 

“I don’t particularly like food. I’m not very fond of meat, for example, except in the morning.” 

Which brings a snort of disgust from her husband. “Can you imagine what it’s like to have to watch her eating corned beef or hamburger at 6 o’clock in the morning?” 

The questions now go to the children. What are Desi’s plans? Does he want to make acting his future? “I want to be an actor for awhile but I don’t think I ever want to be one certain thing.” 

Young Lucy, who, at 18, is two years older than her brother, is more sure of her future “I’ll go to college for awhile but I like acting. I’ll stay at it if I can.” 

Would she somebody asks join the campus protest and carry a sign? Only if it says ‘wet paint’ quips she. 

Lucy now introduces her cast veteran, Gale Gordon. He pays her extravagant compliments and talks a bit about his radio and early television days. 

The interview’s late arrival is venerable George Marshall, who is now the show’s director. Lucy introduces him as “our sexy senior citizen.” Marshall goes back to the dawn of movies and is filled with fascinating anecdotes about his years in the business. (4)

The conversation turns to TV’s talk shows. Somebody suggests to Lucy that she would be a highly likely guest for Merv Griffin’s new show starting on CBS Aug 18. (5)

Lucy's answer comes lancing back “That’s what you think. I don’t like him.” Which rocks everybody back. Why not? “Because he doesn’t know how to interview. He’s rude to his guests and he monopolizes the conversation.” 

She doesn’t wait for the next question. “I’m wild about Dick Cavett (on ABC) I think he’s great And I told Bill Paley (board chairman of CBS) he should have him on our network. But Bill said ABC got him first and we’re out of luck.” (6)

Everybody is suddenly distracted by three teen-age girl fans leaning over a fence way up front. They’re begging to be allowed on the grounds. Morton jogs forward to shoo them away. 

“This happens all the time,” says Lucy. “My God they used to picnic right in front of the house until our police department stopped them. Jimmy Stewart, who lives up the street, finally told me how to keep them away. Turn on the lawn sprinklers.” 

Morton returns and takes everybody for a tour of their luxurious but very lived-in home. Lucy tells us a funny story about how Jack and Mary Benny had once been their next door neighbors sold their home then asked her to try to mediate a re-sale of the place back to them. Then we take our leave.

#    #    # FOOTNOTES FROM THE FUTURE

(1) Dr. Desiderio Alberto Arnaz y Alberni II (1894-1973) was a Cuban politician and the father of Desi Arnaz. He graduated from the Southern College of Pharmacy in 1913 in Atlanta, Georgia. Desiderio Arnaz II was the youngest mayor of Santiago de Cuba (1923–32). When president Machado was overthrown in August 1933, Arnaz was arrested and jailed. Six months later, he was allowed to go into exile. He married Dolores "Lolita" de Acha y de Socias in 1916 and had one son, Desiderio "Desi" Arnaz III. He later had a daughter, Connie Arnaz (1932), with Anne M. Wilson, whom he married in 1941.

(2) Guys & Dolls was a 1950 stage musical by Frank Loesser, based on the stories by Damon Runyon starring Robert Alda, who appeared on several episodes of “The Lucy Show” and “Here’s Lucy”.  It was filmed by MGM in 1955. During that time, Lucy and Desi were also under contract to MGM, so they prevailed upon “I Love Lucy” to insert a clip from the film into “Lucy and the Dummy” (ILL S5;E3). After its initial airing on October 17, 1955, the clip was removed from the film print, and for legal reasons, has never been restored. It is unclear whether Garrison’s project with Martin, Ball, and Gleason would have been a film revival, or a stage production. Whatever it was to be, Lucy wanted to have no part of it, perhaps remembering the rigors of performing on stage in Wildcat (1960). During her film career, Ball was in two films based on Damon Runyon material, The Big Street (1942), a film she claimed as her favorite, and Sorrowful Jones (1949). She also did a radio version of Runyon’s “Tight Shoes” in 1942. Ball and Gleason would have been cast as Miss Adelaide and Nathan Detroit, while Dean Martin would have played Sky Masterson, the romantic lead. Those roles were played by Vivian Blaine, Frank Sinatra, and Marlon Brando in the film. Obviously, the project never came to be. 

(3) “Diamond Jim” was a project that Lucy dearly wanted to make with Gleason. He would play Diamond Jim Brady (1856-1917) to her Lillian Russell. Ball even went so far as to have a script written to further grab Gleason’s attention. Despite their best intentions, Gleason and Ball’s schedules never allowed for enough time to make the film. 

(4) George Marshall (1891-1975) had directed Lucille Ball in Valley of the Sun (1942) and Fancy Pants (1950).  He was considered an expert at location shooting, so when “Here’s Lucy” wanted to spend the first four episodes of Season 2 on location, Marshall was hired as director. He stayed on for seven more episodes of the sitcom before bowing out. 

(5) Despite Lucille Ball’s rather harsh public assessment of Merv Griffin (1925-2007) at this August 1969 press party, Ball appeared on “The Merv Griffin Show” four times between 1971 and 1980! During her first appearance, the aforementioned George Marshall was also a guest! 

(6) Lucille did seem to enjoy doing the talking to Dick Cavett, although she only got to do his chat show once, on March 7, 1974, in conjunction with her press tour for Mame. 

[liebegott]

Ya know a lil post war Lieb where you’re married but he’s flirting with you would really water my crops... bonus if he says the word titties hehe ~ twin

Bell Peppers & Balconies. | Joseph Liebgott

(click here to read on wattpad)

REQUESTS ARE ALWAYS OPEN!

pairing: liebgott x fem!reader

wc: 1.7k

tw: none except he mentions titties so idk oops!

a/n: ahh i’m so sorry, for some reason, when i wrote this, my eyes completely focused on the titties line instead of the married line! so i accidentally wrote them not married. i’m so sorry 🥺 huge thanks to @vintagelavenderskies who reminded me that stargazing existed!

this is probably my favourite oneshot i’ve ever written, so i hope you enjoy it! thank you all for reading. 💓

tagging: @floydtab @alienoresimagines @order-of-river-phoenix @julianneday1701 @hellitwasyoufirstsergeant @wexhappyxfew @rarmiitage @mavysnavy @punkgeekchic @vintagelavenderskies @georgeluzwarmhugs @ray--person @wecomrades @jussipogideonlaufeyson @happyveday @snafus-peckuh @little-babydolly @kathikon

feel free to message me if you’d like to be added to my taglist!

***

Water splashed against your foot, the contents of your watering can spilling onto the balcony under yours. You quietly cursed, stepping aside and rushing to turn off the faucet. It was like any other day, summer just around the corner, and as usual, you tended to your small garden, a couple of planter boxes fastened to the railing of your balcony. 

It was 1945. The war had just ended, and though everything was normal for a while now, the difference soldiers coming home made was striking. You had moved to San Francisco right after most of the men shipped out, so their return made a difference to everyone but you.

With summer rolling in, you worried about your bell peppers that had started sprouting. It was rarely bright and sunny where you lived, but your small apartment faced south, allowing your tiny, makeshift backyard to receive as much sunlight as possible for your vegetables.

You lived in a corner apartment, and the apartment beside yours was empty, so your floor was quiet, noise coming only from the bustle of the streets below. Today was no different. 

Or so you thought.

“You water them any more and they’ll drown,” a voice said to you, and for a moment, you thought you had hallucinated. On the balcony beside yours stood a skinny man, still in his military uniform, leaning on the railing. “I’m serious, that’s way too much water.”

Tilting your watering can, you placed it on a wooden stool, surveying the damage. It was one of your bad habits- getting so lost in thought, staring off into the distance. It was a surprise any of your vegetables had grown at all. 

“Oops,” you said sheepishly, rubbing the back of your neck, “They’ll be fine.. I hope.” The man chuckled, the sound of his laugh so clear despite the honking of the traffic on the streets under you. 

He leaned down on the railing on his elbows, taking out a cigarette from his pocket and lighting it in such swift movements. You never liked smoking, hated the smell of cigarettes, but briefly, as you watched him exhale, you loved it. The man saw you eye him from his peripherals and turned to you, throwing you a wink.

“I hope so too,” he mumbled, flicking spent ashes to the ground below, “Can’t have spaghetti without tomatoes can we? Those are tomatoes aren’t they?” 

You shook your head gently. “No, bell peppers. My tomatoes didn’t grow,” a frown appeared on your face and the man clucked his tongue. He moved in his place, resting on his back on the warm metal to face you. “Did you just get back?” You cursed yourself in your head for such a stupid question, as he was in fact, still in his hat.

The man nodded absentmindedly, taking another drag from his cigarette and exhaling before speaking. “Yep, just moved in as well,” he smiled kindly, the smile-lines around his mouth deepening, “Glad my ‘ma chose this apartment.”

Turning back towards the horizon, you sighed happily. “It has the best view,” you replied, “You’re really lucky.”

“I sure am,” the man grinned, but his eyes remained trained on her, “I’ve got a pretty neighbour with bell peppers as well.” You couldn’t fight the blush appearing on your cheeks. 

“Would you like to come over for dinner?” you suddenly blurted out, surprising the both of you, you a little more. He seemed pleased, flicking away his cigarette and watching it drop to the ground. 

Rubbing his hands together, he walked closer to his balcony ledge, a smirk on his face. “That’s a surprise,” he said, your cheeks heating up once more, “I was just about to ask you the same thing. Except, I don’t have any furniture.”

“Ask me then,” you said, unsure where this boldness was coming from. He was a complete stranger, and you had only been speaking for a few minutes. 

The man chuckled again, and you wish he wouldn’t stop this time, the sound sweet in your ears. “What’s your name?” he asked, a twinkle in his eye.

“Y/N.”

He smiled, and you curled a strand of hair behind your ear. “Well, Y/N,” he began, leaning in as close as the gap between your balconies would allow, “Would you like to have dinner with me?”

———

Fidgeting, you gently brought your knuckles to the door and knocked. You heard shuffling inside before he swung the door wide open, a large grin on his face. “You really came,” Joe breathed a sigh of relief, puzzling you.

“Of course I did,” you said matter-of-factly, “I’m literally four steps away.” He ushered you into his bare apartment and looked around, slightly embarrassed. Joe looked different out of his uniform, without a cigarette, and without any furniture.

He looked like a young man, not the confident one he had introduced himself as on his balcony. You weren’t sure which version of him you liked more.

“I made food,” you smiled at him, lifting a warm bowl of pasta, “No tomatoes. It's bell pepper and cream though, if that’s okay with you.” 

He whistled. “You made something too? I swear I was joking about the spaghetti,” Joe laughed, a smile growing on your face as well, “But thank you. I really appreciate it.”

Leading you through the sparse living areas, which only had his suitcase and a mattress on the floor, Joe’s face reddened. “Haven’t gotten the chance to buy furniture,” he gave you a lopsided grin, “But I promise, the next time you come over, I’ll at least have a couch you can sit on.”

Everything he said came out so easily, and yet every word made you blush. Stepping onto the small balcony, your heart skipped yet another beat. 

Joe had placed down blankets and pillows on the metal floor. You looked up at him, your eyes wide. “This is amazing, Joe,” you breathed. And it truly was, despite how simple the whole thing was. 

He settled himself down on a pillow, patting the one beside him for you to sit as well. You placed the bowl down between you, taking out plates and forks. From where you were seated, you could see the whole San Francisco skyline, the sky pink as the sun slowly hid for the evening.

“Well,” he began, a wide grin on his face, “I had a beautiful girl comin’ over. I figured I’d have to impress her even without furniture.”

There he went again, with each word, crawling his way into your heart. “Good job, Sergeant Liebgott,” you winked at him, “You can consider me impressed.”

“Oh boy,” he piped, facing heavenward, “Being called Sergeant has never sounded so good.” You no longer fought back a smile, your heart feeling warm as you scooped up some pasta for him.

The two of you sat there, and once the food was finished, your stomachs both full, you and Joe peeked through the railings to see who could spot the number of cabs that passed by first. Joe eventually got tired of losing, despite you knowing his eyes were far more observant than yours-- you realised later on he was letting you win.

Leaning back down against the glass sliding door, a pillow between the two of you, you both watched the night sky, illuminated by the bright lights of Mainstreet. Joe was easy to talk to, your conversations ranging from his family to before the war. You were apprehensive, skirting around the edges of his actual time in Europe, but learned a thing or two about the men he served with.

“It's always bright here, is it?” he mumbled after a moment of comfortable silence between the two of you. You looked at him to see him gazing towards the darkened sky, his face blank. You nodded, not saying anything. “It was never really ever completely dark in Belgium either.”

You knew of the ‘Battered Bastards of Bastogne,’ almost everyone did. But you never realised the man beside you, so young and so alive, had been one of them. “What was it like?” you asked him, your voice quiet and unsure. 

He turned to look at you and gave you a reassuring smile-- ask me, his eyes seemed to say. “Sometimes it’d be so dark, you wouldn’t be able to see your hands in front of you,” Joe said, extending his arms in front of him to glance at his hands, “And then a light will pierce through the sky. You’d see it through the trees, and hear a high-pitched whistle.” 

You tried to imagine everything he was saying, looking up at the sky and pretending you were surrounded by a canopy of trees. Joe put a hand on your shoulder and shook his head. “Then when it’d come down, you’ll force yourself to think of a reason to stay alive,” he finished, his eyes trained on you, yet looking somewhere else, somewhere far. Belgium.

Cupping his cheek gently, you whispered, “What reasons did you give yourself?”

“My family,” he sighed, shutting his eyes, leaning into your touch, “But also the idea of driving my cab around again. Meeting a girl with soft titties and a smile to die for. All the little Liebgotts we’d make.” Joe said the last sentence with a cheeky smile, no malice, and you pat his cheek gently, pulling away. You eventually learned Joe had the capability to make everything sad happy again. 

Both falling once more in a comfortable silence, the night drew nearer, and you realised you had to go. Standing at the door, your own just a few steps away, a strange feeling of sadness surrounded you. “Thank you for tonight,” you forced a smile.

Joe tapped your nose once. “Don’t frown,” he grinned, and you couldn’t help but grin as well, “We can have dinner again, this time. I’ll cook.”

“I sure hope it isn’t one of the stews you guys had in the forest you were telling me about.”

Joe feigned offence, a hand on his chest. “You’re missing out, I swear,” he scrunched his eyebrows together, “The bones give a real nice crunch.” You let out a laugh, your voice echoing through the quiet hall. You waved him goodnight, taking a few steps to your own apartment, and turning the key. 

“And Y/N,” he called, and you turned to see him, his eyes soft as he leaned on the doorway, “Finally met the girl.” 

You were wrong, sneaking a glance down at your chest. Today was definitely different.

[promiseiwillwrite]

A God's Mind

Be advised, what I am about to write is something that was shown to me yesterday between asleep and awake by Loki.

It was a sharing between Loki and Me, and is therefore entirely Unverified Personal Gnosis.

Not that I have enough followers that it is going to matter to anyone ever.

Normally, when I interact with Loki, I see him and interact with him in the theater of my mind's eye. Sometimes, we are in a beautiful mansion that I've posted about on here before. Other times we speak in some outside, natural setting, or even Loki and Sigyn's House. Here recently, because of the Shadow work I have been doing, I have been working in a Black Space. There is literally nothing around me but the ambient light needed to see whichever part I am talking to/working with at the time.

It is boring and stripped down on purpose so I don't get distracted.

Last night when I closed my eyes to do this work before going to bed, I felt his presence. He hadn't been around in a while, and I know it's because I told him to go away in a fit of suicidal frustration about two weeks ago. I told him that what we've had is all in my head, and that I cannot possibly be meaningful for him when he has literally tens of thousands of followers/lovers and at LEAST two wives, and a Non-Zero number of Godspouses. I have had a lot of trouble defining what I want from relationships, and I feel like I don't even know what is Normal to want from them, or Right or Comfortable.

I don't have anything that feels like a valid frame of reference, and I have had huge anxiety about my Relationship to and with all of my deities as a result.

I want to be a healthy person, but I don't know if my attachment to them is healthy at all. I feel like probably not.

That aside, He started out acting like he was sad and was all curled up on the floor, and I went to him, and said I was sorry, and that I hadn't meant it, and that I had been really upset.

And then he sits up and he's standing and completely fine, and grinning meanly like, "I know."

And then he says, "Let's Go."

So I asked the question: "Where are we going?"

"You'll See."

And he turns, but holds a hand out to me, and I take it, and he leads me into a room full of strangely familiar people.

There were Hundreds of them. It was a big room.

I did not understand what was going on. They were lazing about, talking amongst themselves, in various states of undress, in various forms, and ages. Most of them paid me no attention.

And then I met a person who presented as a cute Asian girl with a lavender frost Pixie cut and a nose ring, with bare feet wearing a white shirt and baggy overalls. Fucking adorable. and SUPER Familiar. Like best friend, perhaps with benefits kind of vibes.

And I asked "Where are we?"

And Loki looked at me, and said. "Inside My Mind".

I was stunned. And I think I understood some stuff.

I have interpreted this to mean that Loki as a God is made up of the Gnosis of all his various Followers. Each of these people I was looking at was a part of Loki, just as I have many parts of my own mind. Angry parts, or nice parts that like tea on rainy days.

He's a Shape-Shifter god, and these were all the ways he is seen by his followers. But it was more than that... It was like these were the essence of the relationship he had with each of those followers, and that somehow he took a part of each one of them into himself, their ideas of him, and their interactions with him, and the energetic, emotional weight of those relationships... They were All a part of him.

All defining and Not defining the central essence of him, that core of Loki that Is Loki and Nothing Else, The Truth of Godself beholden to nothing, but constantly influencing and shaping him as a real, dynamic living thing, through connection. And More than the Sum of the Parts.

And if this understanding is correct... Then it means that Every relationship with a God is Essential to that God. Because it is part of the Very Fabric of their Being.

And for every God that really has the whole Self Love thing sorted, It means that this Love must extend to All their Parts, just as it does for Us.

And it means that all the parts of Godself that are Difficult, Like the Part of his Essence that is bound with his Son's Intestines across three sharp Ledges, These parts are bolstered and supported and Helped and Healed and held together with the Sanity Glue that the parts of All trauma survivors become. The Strong parts. The Kind Parts. The parts that reach out to make connections.

That's also how he Handles Godding... How he can be enough for all the Godspouses and the Wives and the Children. How he can be special to and for and with all those who ask. Because there are Many of him to go around. And every one who asks, Every one who reaches out to Genuinely know... Just adds to what he is capable of.

"Because you wanted to know how you could Possibly be Special to me."

He answered the question because I kept telling him that I Couldn't be special to him. I can really only know him as well as I can understand love and connection, and the degree to which I want those things. I don't know how well I understand, but I Really Do want the connection, even when I am ready to run from it, or I convince myself I have to do without in order to find out what healthy looks like.

I thought about this, today as I was running, because I feel like it helps me understand other people's relationships to gods. And my relationships to Other gods.

Like Jörmungandr, for instance. If the way I see him is Radically Different from the way Most people see him, is it not that much more important, in that it allows him the choice to be another way, to have traits that I've seen or imagined in him, that maybe others have not?

And is that, then, Not Also true of Other People?

That if you are curious about a person, and you talk to them, and get to know them, that you will see all these different parts, and that you will see value in them that maybe they cannot? And that maybe it will help them to believe in themselves, because You believe in them and Love them for who they are? And that you might remind them that They have a Choice in who they are, and how they experience their lives?

And then, of course, Full Circle, Here...

If you look at your Own Self... And all your parts, all the lumps bumps bruises and Monsters rattling the bars of their cages down in the dark... If you are curious about the parts that cry at night, and go to help, that Maybe you can make those changes, and remember that you are worth believing in, and that you have a Choice in your Experience of your Life, and that you can Love yourself, for who you are.

Maybe who we are IS more like a god than I thought. Maybe who we are is deeply colored by our relationships with others, and that through those relationships we exist as More than we would otherwise be. More versatile, resilient and able to handle the shit show of life.

You are not alone.

Want to Know.

[thecosmicsen]

🎂  happy belated birthday month to fellow ghosty boy,  aka the soft boy Jaewoo is stuck to in any AU,  the one and only @phantombs​  !  🎂

*  :  ✮ ┆   the one in which they both bond with the afterlife  .

call it the synchronisation of two backgrounds harmonising that cultivated this very moment of Jaewoo enthusiastically bursting through Cường’s front door.  the trust that Cường has in him to provide key access speaks volumes of unfathomable confidence despite the striking contrasts between what the two deem as amicable greetings.  typically,  Jaewoo is akin to a sudden blast of nippy wind that tends to slap someone across the face with its sharp stinging icy breeze whereas Cường is the type to snore through category five typhoons.  this indisputable fact about the elder male is what provides Jaewoo with the brazen guts to invade his home so unabashedly since he knows that nothing will stir the unconscious figure.  as according to plan.

detecting the lump in the midst of the blankets,  Jaewoo now enters stealth mode as he navigates his way around the bedroom.  setting down the canister of helium with a slightly louder thunk,  he sucks in his cheeks in horror as he tersely waits to see if it elicits a stir or two out of Cường.  it doesn’t.  with a smug sense of achievement,  he proceeds with the first step of filling up confetti-filled balloons so he can robustly tie them in batches of three with blue ribbons.  what the true finishing touch is the polaroids of the abundant pictures he has taken of Cường over the span of time they have spent together.  besides the absolutely candid shots varying from Cường overlooking the speckles of freshly budded cherry blossoms to him randomly snoozing in an upright position on the park bench,  the polaroids consist of vintage filtered memory snapshots ranging from . . . 

one.  tiny coffee puddles lingering at the bottom of almost emptied mugs.  licked up cupcake crumbs.  overcast cherry blossom shadows merging with the tabletop.  the lining of plush armchairs overlooking the open cafe balcony.  pink-tinged cheeks from the open breeze.  a slumped over snoozing figure,  his mouth slightly agape as he snugly fits in the width of his chair.  it’s ironic really,  sleeping right after a caffeine dose  ?  classic Cường.

two.  rain-streaked panels.  the lazy streaks of dusk filtering through clearing horizons.  idly bustling of Cường’s back faced to him as he gently rifles through his collection of mugs.  thick woolly covered socks perched up together.  a low hum of a cheery tune.  the cheeky grin he flashes when Cường turns around with the familiar scolding look.  “  you’re going to be chilled to the bone,  wrap up the blanket tighter around yourself.  ”  the elder male warns him and he obliges.  

three.  dusted piano keys.  a pair of hands gliding across the ivory.  the other pair patiently listening,  and listening,  and listening.  time stands still in the air,  the concept being sapped away between the gaps of the keys as Cường plays the tunes of a piece so bittersweet.  reminiscing curls his lips downwards until Cường gently grabs hold of his hand and gingerly swaps it with his own.  “  learn to play with me,  ”  he jerks Jaewoo out of his transfixed spiralling stance that threatens to plunge him into a nostalgic dimension. 

four.  flash.  flash.  flash.  another piercing flash.  it washes him out,  bringing out the sallow side of his physical manifestation.  he’s suddenly very self-conscious.  all he is doing is walking along the river,  breeze tickling through his hair.  the only person he notices is Cường with his mobile phone pointed in his direction.  “  wait,  I’m not ready for a picture.  ”  Jaewoo protests,  immediately raising his hand up into a peace sign with a chirpy grin.  Cường snaps a few more before shaking his head,  a fond smile taking over.  “  you silly boy,  does the sun ever need to prepare its shining brightness  ?  nor do you.  ”

five.  buzzing electric hums crackle.  indignant yells from preteens cause a crease between Cường’s brows.  blaring beeps and glowing neon signs cram up any leftover space in the arcade.  they promise many bountiful rewards.  get your hands dirty,  you might win an oversized stuffed narwhale.  Jaewoo rubs his hands gleefully,  akin to a persistent fly about to dig into a tasty feast.  “  I know just the thing you need on the days you sleep for fourteen hours.  ”  pivoting to the flashiest claw machine with Line characters packed like sardines,  he eagerly hunches over with his tongue sticking out in concentration.  he will win this.  inserting his leftover cash in enthusiastically,  he aims the metallic grip of death to the nearest stuffed bunny.  taking in a noisy deep inhale to quell his adrenaline,  he jabs at the pretentiously gaudy red button for the claws to suffocate the bunny to victory.  it works  !  he didn’t expect it to in full honesty but now he can smugly brandish it to the amused male.  “  let’s call him Lele.  now you will never be alone.  ”

. . .  a shrill whistle sounds from Jaewoo as he clambers towards Cường’s bedroom window.  a hoard of worn out older dogs struggle to float up to the window’s height.  but with the aid of Jaewoo’s awaiting palms,  they are safely directed into the warm haven of Cường’s birthday setup.  what’s left is the lighting of candles and the birthday.  the ghost had considered buying a massive rectangular cake to fit the few hundred candles on it but he reckoned that Cường wouldn’t be up for using all of his lung power on blowing out that many candles so he settled for placing fifty seven instead.  not a jibe to the other’s age at all.  

clapping his hands together,  Jaewoo motions at the expectant dogs to go huddle up against the sleeping figure in bed.  beyond eagerly,  they all contentedly clamber besides Cường as they are familiar with the man and his previous visits to the shelter.  the wholesome sight warms his heart and he hurriedly moves to snap a picture of the cosy sight before Cường can object.  by the looks of it,  he still hasn’t fully stirred from his slumber yet so Jaewoo takes the cue to finally begin the slow singing of the birthday cheer. 

“  happy birthday to you,  happy birthday Choi Cường,  happy birthday to you.  ”  the dogs happily grumble along to Jaewoo’s trilling voice in an unique harmonisation to celebrate the cheer of Cường entering another year of life yet again.  

Cường finally arises with groggy eyes,  hair sticking out in random tufts and incomprehesible noises that only those fully acquainted with deep sleep can fathom.  Jaewoo approaches him with his birthday cake,  eyes glazed with delight.  

“  make a wish !  ”  Jaewoo shoves the cake in front of him and Cường indulges him by huffing out the candles in three goes before tugging him onto the pile of puppies on the bed.  “  please don’t tell me you wished for more sleep.  ”  

alas,  Cường has already fallen back into a half-drowsy state but it’s okay.  the cake can wait.  

*  :  ✮ ┆   the one in which they both bear the weight of the crown  .

huff puff.  huff puff.  huff puff.  look at what lengths the young prince goes to.  it takes a lot of cautious scrambling on the ivy-clad bricks.  it surely would have been a call for an immediate plummet to death. had the prince not been thoroughly experienced with years and years of experience in exiting the castle grounds for invigorating quests for adventures,  he wouldn’t have made it beyond a single ledge.  as lithe as a cat,  he even managed to maintain his hold on a staggering wide window ledge that showcased an approaching candlelight,  presumably one of the many patrolling guards.  security had greatly intensified ever since that eye-opening hectic night of ultimate meetings of meetings.  the only leeway he was able to breakthrough and finally make through the fortress was through months and months of extensive study with the aid of prince Cường’s silent cues on illustrating ways on how the other may keep visiting him in his lonely desolate tower.  

evidently,  the legwork pays off since Jaewoo is able to navigate his way through the labyrinth of tenacious security personnel.  it’s extraordinarily exciting to be going through such leaps and bounds to visit your secret werewolf best friend,  son of the rival kingdom that your family swore an oath against  !  

entirely pleased with himself and his progress,  the young prince proceeds with his voyage to the grand tower window after ensuring with a peep that the patrolling guard has moved on.  he makes a quick mental note of how the fourth floor garrison seem to take around seventy five seconds for a quick sweep before moving on with his cat climb. 

it must have been a nasty shock for Cường to have his grand balcony doors thumped on frantically in the dead of the night.  Jaewoo can faintly make out the startled grunt followed by groggy scuffling towards the set of gold-plated doors.  the sight that Cường is faced with upon opening the doors with hesitance is one straight out of the many books that he’s read with Jaewoo in their more relaxed princely hang out sessions.  the moon crescent gently laminates Jaewoo’s tall and proud silhouette with its sheer pearly luminescence glimmering off the many encrusted jewels on his figure. 

“  prince Cường,  head of all mythical protection,  the defender of deep sleep and all other his realms,  you have officially lived to see and enter another blessed year  !  ”  Jaewoo enthuses,  his eyes dancing wild in delight with his self-perceived inspirational opening.  “  despite the beast inside,  quite literally if I may add,  you have persisted and floated through the face of adversity.  a very very joyful and happy birthday to you.  as my gift to you,  I must insist on you going out with me on this clear mid spring evening.  ”

to be expected,  Cường stares at him incredulously before opening his mouth to come up with a gurgle of excuses ranging from it being too late and the best birthday gift he can give is to have the longest nap.  this is all naturally dismissed by Jaewoo with a wave of hands although he switches up his tactic with pleading beseeching eyes. 

“  I swear in the name of all things that I love,  this will be a minimal effort journey for you,  your highness.  ”  Jaewoo holds his hand on his chest to declare his oath.  “  outside your grounds,  I have brought a sled with a comfortable makeshift that I specially made for you.  please please please.  I shall carry you along the entire time.  you only need to walk the distance to and from your bedroom to outside the grounds but even for that,  I can piggyback you for when we are out of sights from your garrison.  ”  

Cường sighs in defeat,  knowing that it takes far more energy to Jaewoo who doesn’t take no as an answer either way.  the duo had been continuously going out for either one of Jaewoo’s gutsy expeditions in his quest for seeking fantastical legends or heading for a cosy hangout in his secret shed hangout.  so it is a familiar cause-and-effect process that Cường has grudgingly gotten accustomed to.  

soon enough,  the two are bundled up warmly and exit their usual and lesser dangerous route from within the castle instead of dangling off precariously on tower walls.  as they veer near the edge of the perimetres of the castle grounds,  Jaewoo begins to piggyback him as promised.  with Cường’s thick plush cape enveloping his body too,  Jaewoo enthusiastically leaps towards the awaiting royal sled concealed underneath the moss of an oak.  

“  see,  I made it like almost exactly like your real bed which you love to lay in so much  !  “  Jaewoo gingerly lowers down Cường after ensuring every speck of leftover moss is flicked off.  almost immediately,  Cường nestles himself underneath the main heavyweight blanket with his eyes flitting shut which is a sure sign that Jaewoo must have accurately devised a mobile sleeping quarters for the lethargic prince.  with the toothiest grin,  Jaewoo leaves his nap to him in peace before securing the sled to his armour.  

as they traverse through the grounds,  a route that Jaewoo deliberately scoured for its even ground to avoid jilting Cường too much,  the night begins to sink in deeper.  an expert in creating handheld torches,  Jaewoo lights the way for himself and his drowsy reluctant companion through the sweeping grand grounds of eclipsing trees.  thankfully, the destination in mind for the birthday isn’t too far off so much of the night isn’t wasted on the journey time itself.  

they arrive to a clearing that opens up the dull moonlit night with a large lake in sight.  there is already a boat awaiting for them  (  a product of Jaewoo’s meticulous birthday planning  ).  the barely illuminated body of water does not do justice for the usual daytime blue-green depths as the night overcasts its murky shadow.  in fact,  it would have been totally understandable if Cường was to believe that Jaewoo dragged him out in the midst of the night to kill him in this open valley.  ironically,  the birthday boy does reflect similar sentiments as he questions Jaewoo as to why they have come here but he does thank Jaewoo for bringing him out in the open air.  

“  behold my dear friend,  you shall see why I brought you here.  ”  Jaewoo holds out a hand in plea before sticking the burning torch into the ground near the docked boat.  “  I’m going to transfer you to the boat now.  I made it extra comfy for you,  do not fear.  ”   admittedly,  the wooden boat does look slightly shabby from what the torch’s amber lighting shows up.  yet the confines of the boat are layered thick with nothing but fleece plush-lined winter blankets and opulent feather pine-stuffed pillows directly from Jaewoo’s palace.  

transferring Cường to the boat takes no more than a second,  the birthday prince not weighing more than mere grapes to Jaewoo who is amped up on adrenaline.  blowing the touch out,  must to Cường’s skepticism,  he hops into the boat eagerly before grabbing the oars to paddle them out and away from shore.  the atmosphere drastically dips to an eerie cloudless night with not a source of light to be found yet Jaewoo keeps on paddling and paddling and paddling.  

“  what do you bring me here for  ?  ”  Cường questions yet again,  sounding helplessly bewildered.  Jaewoo swats at him.  

“  ssshhh,  you’ll see in a moment.  don’t be too loud now  !  ”  Jaewoo playfully jibes despite being several pitches higher than Cường.  setting the oars now with definitive decisiveness,   he stops paddling as he opts to shoulder another blanket around himself.  “  any moment now . . .  ”

as if just to vehemently rebel against Jaewoo’s words,  the pair are left in the sweeping frigid silence in the enveloping darkness.  the lake is completely still.  the air almost stagnant from its lifelessness.  Jaewoo frets about Cường falling asleep again.  before he can reach out for Cường’s arm to harshly pinch.  it begins to appear.  

the fireflies begin to leisurely appear.  each warm glow emitting slowly one by one until it begins to reflect against the clear lake depths,  stark in its crystal clear glowing luminescence.  it starts off with ten good fireflies darting around until a few hundred more show up to entirely brighten up the entire body of water like one of the radiant lantern festivals celebrated in the kingdom.   some begin to glimmer near the boats which causes a cascading effects of pale yellow to light up all around them.  finally Jaewoo can glimpse the entirety of Cường’s face who looks utterly in awe.  he gently holds a finger out,  witnessing how a firefly immediately beckons to his fingertip.  it warms up the features of his face significantly.  

this once,  Jaewoo remains serenely silent as he soaks in the magical sight of the fireflies and their endless etched out glittery reflection on the still lake’s surface.  glancing back to Cường,  he brings out the hidden sack of pastries so he can gingerly stuff one in his mouth. 

“  happy birthday,  your highness  !  ” 

*  :  ✮ ┆   the one in which they are both reliant on coffee and stacks of books  .

yeah,  birthday,  it's your birthday.  if I die,  bury me inside the Louis store,  they ask me what I do and who I do it for and how I come up with this shit up in the studio.  all I want for my birthday is a big booty hoe  !

it is six in the crisp fresh early morning.  the scatter of April’s cherry blossoms softly breeze past the windows.  in the far off distance,  the blue buses agilely shuttle to their timely scheduled stops.  what is there to greet the overambitious joggers is the bountiful stretching of the clear blue skies and its cheery sunshine companion.  what a landscape of utmost urban tranquility. 

skrr,  skrr,  wrists movin,  cookin',  gettin' to it cookin', I'm in the kitchen,  yams everywhere  !

this lyric accurately reveals where the culprit of the booming bass music is located.  what should be another college boy routine of panicked last minute waking up,  rolling out of bed,  brushing teeth and forgetting to comb before running out of the house is not happening.  it’s pulverised along with the vibrating bass that resonates through the tight budgeted walls. 

ah,  Yeezy,  Yeezy,  how you do it,  huh  ?  it's my birthday,  I deserve to be greedy,  huh  ?

whether the actual birthday boy is begging for the chance to be greedy or the chaotic sound source in the kitchen is debatable.  the April birthday boy is was soundly fast asleep in his bedroom underneath the newly gifted weighted blanket and he must be too groggy with early morning drowsiness.  he groans as the bass violently shakes his bed before waiting a few moments to see if the music will miraculously switch off.  perhaps this spring day will bless him with a power shut off to banish the ruckus.  

I show up with a check to your work place then hand the valet the keys to the merces.  tell the DJ play your song,  this shit come on.  what I'm seeing from the back I can't front on.  they ask me what I do and who I do it for  !

as fast as Cường’s lethargic feet will transport him to the kitchen despite it being a mere few steps in their apartment,  it feels like eternity to him.  as he languidly inches towards the kitchen,  the deafening birthday song begins to ring his ears.  it elicits a slight grimace out of him.  his only plan is to lower the music volume to five before noiselessly dragging himself back to bed to flop down to prolong his sixteen hour nap. 

however,  his plans are rapidly crushed to itty bitty microscopic bits the moment he stumbles across the sight of Jaewoo haphazardly dancing along with ardent strong passionate strokes in the midst of the glammed up kitchen.  stray confetti and metallic balloons litter the countertops and corners.  a stack of presents line up on the island as a standout centrepiece on the counter set up for two.  the warm scent of fresh souffle pancakes fill up the air and berry compote compete to overwhelm senses along with the brewing green tea.  when Cường is set to open his presents after breakfast,  he will come to find out that Jaewoo has purchased a drawstring hoodie pillow,  an interesting choice of a pillow,  another ostrich pillow for classes,  an aromatherapy eye pillow,  microwaveable slippers,  a book light for philosophical bedtime reading,  a golden ratio notebook,  a poster,  and a self-heating coffee mug. 

“  finally,  I was beginning to wonder how long it would take to bait you out of bed  !  ”  Jaewoo chirpily waves at the dopy figure in the middle of his twirling hands up motion,  who is seemingly flabbergasted.  it’s an overload of various stimuli to all take in at once at six in the morning.  but to his credit,  Jaewoo begins to lower the volume to a decent level that won’t burst eardrums.  

“  who are those presents for  ?  they better be for you.  I told you,  you didn’t have to do anything for me.  silly boy.  ”  Cường finally remembers how to vocalise after awakening slightly.  

wiggling his finger at him,  Jaewoo jubilantly shakes his head with a smug smile before grabbing hold of the other’s shoulders to steer him to sit down on the island stool.  “  so you are allowed to do whatever you want for my birthday but I can’t do the same  ?   if you do not accept these presents then I will have no choice but to start playing Tinashe at full volume.  you know how her songs get me going.  ”

it appears to be that Cường receives the message so he expectantly grabs his chopsticks.  with a triumphant grin,  Jaewoo pours out a cup of green tea to him before pouring out a bowl of seaweed soup for him.  “  eat up birthday boy,  live a very long healthy prosperous life.  who else will I take to astronomy club  !  I need you alive  !  ”  with his eyes sparkling mischievously,  he then whispers out one final.  “  happy birthday Cường.  ”

[chilling-seavey]

Heartbreak Hotel (d.s.) - Chapter Twelve

A/N I think this is my favourite chapter so far!

Was this fate? Was this some sort of sign? Daniel was sure it was something of the sort. Only one day before he was getting ready to scrap the whole operation and just give the tickets to his sister when now he was sitting in the diner, watching her walk through the door alone. Jack and Zach were busy working so Daniel was sitting by himself at the counter, and he glanced up at her out of the corner of his eye as he took a bite of a French fry, trying to look casual and blasé. Thank everything he still brought the tickets with him in his jacket pocket that morning.

Loretta took her usual seat at the end and looked down the row to him. Daniel stayed perfect focussed on his lunch.

“Hey.”

Daniel nearly broke is neck looking over at her at such a fast speed, surprised to see her staring at him with a small smile, “Hi.”

“Is the hamburger good?” she asked.

“Oh,” Daniel looked back at his plate, “Yeah, it’s swell.”

“Great.” Loretta smiled and turned to look up at the menu on the boards above the counter.

They sat in silence at opposite ends of the bar seating, both of them almost too nervous to say something. Daniel figured he was going to blow it again; he was too anxious to open his mouth and could barely even look at her without his heart racing. The music from the diner jukebox played softly through the restaurant and the sizzling of food prep from the kitchen gave Daniel a bit of white noise to ease his nerves.

The chef slammed his hand down on the bell, “Order up!”

Daniel nearly fell off his chair at the startle and Loretta giggled light from her stool at the end.

“I don’t think we’ve actually introduced ourselves.”

Daniel looked back down the row to her. She had her elbows on the countertop and her cheek resting against her folded hands as she stared at him.

When he didn’t answer, she held out one hand towards him, “Loretta.”

Daniel flicked his eyes between her outstretched hand and her gentle face before reaching out to meet her handshake, “Daniel.”

Her hand was warm – but comfortable and not at all clammy – and Daniel felt his heart beat harder in his chest as her fingers curled around his for just a moment. They shared a small smile, her own cheeks dusted in a slight pink but it assumed it was simply because she had been out in the summer sun for who knows how long.

“I seem to see you around often, Daniel.” Loretta stated casually as they sat back straighter on their respective stools.  

“Yeah.” Daniel chuckled lightly to himself, “I’ve noticed that too.”

Just then, Jack returned to the counter, nearly gaping at the two customers talking from down the counter like they were long lost friends and Daniel shot him a warning glare to not make a fool of him. Jack simply headed down to take Loretta’s order, flipping out his notepad, not giving his friend a second glance.

“Strawberry shake today?” he asked her.

“No. I’m going to try whatever Daniel’s having.” Loretta smiled down at him and Daniel beamed back.

Jack seemed pleasantly taken back, “Alright. Combo 4 coming right up.”

“Thank you.”

The two fell into silence again and Jack glanced between them from the cash register, trying to not get caught staring. Daniel busied himself with a bite of his burger, his leg bouncing anxiously under the counter ledge, his eyes rising to Jack’s concerned face.

Jack knew his best friend well, so he slid on over to his with grace to offer some assistance, leaning forward on the counter across from him, “Have you found someone who wants to go with you to the show?”

Daniel’s relieved expression had Jack raising his eyebrows in a silent, ‘you’re welcome’.

“No. Not yet.” Daniel answered, “I would take my sister because she loves Elvis but-”

“Elvis?”

Jack and Daniel looked down to the other end of the counter where Loretta was staring at them with wide, excited eyes.

Hook,

Line,

And sinker.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to eavesdrop.” she said quickly.

“No, no. That’s fine. You like Elvis?” Daniel asked her casually.

“Oh gosh, yes.” Loretta gushed. “He’s my most favourite artist.”

“Really?”

“You too?”

“Well, I wouldn’t call myself a huge fan but he is really talented.”

“And so dreamy.” Loretta blurted out. She blushed at her bluntness and Daniel chuckled at her sudden shyness.

Jack clapped him on the shoulder and walked off to get back to work, leaving Daniel and his conversation alone.

“Can I?” Daniel gestured down the counter and she nodded, permitting him to find a stool closer to her and he brought over his plate with him. They sat with one empty stool between them, sharing bashful smiles and pink cheeks, eyes downcast and shy.

“What’s your favourite song?” Loretta asked softly.

“Gosh…I don’t know. I just learned how to play Love Me on guitar so maybe that one. It’s beautiful.”

“Oh his voice in that one gives me goosebumps!” Loretta bit back a smile. “I like all his songs but his faster paced ones – like Hound Dog or Heartbreak Hotel – are really good.”

Daniel stared at her a moment as Jack set her plate in front of her and she thanked him quietly. She took the napkin from around her cutlery and set it on her lap before picking up her burger with her pinkies raised.

She held it out towards Daniel, “Cheers.”

He did the same and they each took a bite at the same time. They ate quietly together for a moment, each with their own soft smiles on their faces.

“So…what are the tickets you have?” Loretta asked softly.

“Oh, I won the 96.3 radio contest to see him at Paramount Studio Stage in August.” Daniel explained.

“Golly, that’s lucky. They only sold a few dozen tickets; it’s supposed to be really up close and personal.”

Daniel took a second to try and steady his heartbeat before looking right at her, “Would you…want to come with me?”

Loretta’s mouth literally fell open in shock, “Seriously?”

“Yeah, I mean…why not? I don’t want to take someone who doesn’t care about the guy; that would be a terrible waste.”

“Oh, wow.” Loretta beamed. “Daniel, I…I would love to go with you.”

“Even though we just met?” he asked, making sure that she didn’t think he was some weirdo.

“Sure. Like I said, I’ve seen you around a lot. I feel like I’ve known you a while.”

Daniel grinned at her and she smiled right back as they just stared at each other a moment.

“Okay.”

“Alright.” Loretta giggled, tucking her dark hair behind her ear.

Jack and Zach were standing at the other end of the counter watching them like proud parents, sharing knowing smiles and a quick secret handshake. Daniel and Loretta talked more about music and Elvis in particular over their lunch and glanced up at Zach and Jack when they slid over two strawberry milkshakes towards them that they didn’t order.

Jack only smirked, “On the house.”

[finsterhund]

Hey I fucking broke my ankle lmao

“I could really use a break right now” I say as I struggle with my dog having terminal cancer, my roommate pushing my limits, my money being nonexistent, and barely getting one meal a day.

A finger on the monkey’s paw that is me ever wanting anything in life curls again. Must have been a pretty fucked up monkey because there’s a lot of fingers on this thing by now.

So yeah, life thought I wasn’t going through enough already so it added broken fucking ankle to the list of Finsterhund suffering hours.

“I wish I wasn’t broke” is another good one. “here have a different broke then lol. go fuck yourself you rotting corpse of a victorian boy piece of shit”

here’s the goods. Got ex roommate to take photo of the screen. Doctor did not let me email the high res version to myself.

I did not go “waaaiii” on the way down, unfortunately. Life just isn’t like a video game. Probably didn’t look funny either. In reality I am a silent faller/injurer/whatever. Survival instincts of child abuse survivor I land and stay there as quiet as possible. I “grew out of” signals for help before teenage years. Which is a blessing in disguise because I don’t like people looking at me when I am hurt. it’s the “baby deer waiting for mom to come back instinct” I hide from predators.

My brain didn’t really process it when it happened. I just fell and heard a SNAP. If I had watched a video of it happening to someone else I would have found it gross but fortunately my brain just let me ignore it.

I was mostly immediately scared that I had somehow damaged the FIFTY DOLLAR dog calming aid that I got for Cazza in the pet store. I needed something like it for her and just seeing it in person and not having to pay 30 dollar shipping I was like “yeah. getting it here” fortunately the only fragile part is a little plastic capsule that imitates a heartbeat, which was packaged inside the toy inside the box. I hope. I have not opened it.

But the reason I fell is because I was also carrying giant bag of dog food. You see my vet recommended I switch out her food in light of the potential heart disease link. So I got the biggest bag of the best chicken stuff they had. My roommate might try saying that it was because the bag was too heavy. It wasn’t. I could lift that shit just fine. Bag was impossible for my impaired depth perception cringe fail line of vision to see around. The same visual impairment that prevents me from being able to drive a car made me think that I could put my foot down on the curb of the sidewalk. Dumb ass thought I was stepping OVER the curb.

Fortunately the bag of dog food broke my fall. Otherwise I’d have probably smashed my nose and teeth on the pavement. I really hope the expensive puppy calming toy is unharmed :( I say as I have a fucking broken leg.

So yeah. If you’ve seen labyrinth where David Bowie playing Jareth the Goblin King walks over all those weird ass fucked up stairs and ledges that are all a manner of odd angles? Specifically where he just takes steps that are at an angle that you cannot actually walk? Yeah I fucked up Jareth platform stairs walked over the fucking curb and snapp my legs

yes, I said legs.

Only my left is technically broken. It’s a Webber A something or other. I have a sick as hell photo if you wanna see. It’s included in this post.

But my right foot also got fucking fucked up. That one it snapped a tendon or a ligament or whatever the fuck. Get this, it snapped off a small piece of the gottamn bone. It’s not a break but it’s like it came off like a splinter. I made a joke in the hospital about how it’s like when you throw a sticky hand at the wall and when you pull it back a piece of the paint comes off with it. That was really fucking funny but nobody laughed. My friend’s group chat thought it was funny though. I did not get a photo of that foot and the tiny cringe sticky hand paint sliver bone.

I am on pain meds better than my normal pain meds. I can barely feel the legs in bed now.

So back to the parking lot. I landed on the dog food bag. I am hoping the calmeroos puppy is not broken or damaged in any way, I heard the snap but my brain is not registering the snap. This hurts “like a normal fall” I think at first. It hurts a lot of course, but I have the pain tolerance of a truck (thanks for this one Will) and a “heartwarming” story from my youth is that my mom didn’t believe my arm was broken both times it happened because I wasn’t “in pain enough” so I’ve got the firsthand experience to back that up.

Yeah then I try to fucking move my goddamn legs. Left one, broken one, there’s noises. Like cracking pop sounds. And pain. God fuck. It feels like the foot is loose and it’s only connected by fleshy flesh and muscle and skin. Aka like how my dislocated shoulder (that my mom also dismissed because I didn’t scream enough... after the lifeguard had alreayd put it back in...) had felt when I was 12.

So I’m like “oh god oh fuck oh god oh fuck I can’t get up or move” yeah my first response was “how the fuck am I going to escape?” I attempted to better myself to get up but absolutely not. Right foot feels like when I roll the damn thing which happens a lot. That *WAS* my bad ankle. sidkfjsdkfjskdf not anymore!!!!!

So an important note is that I’m technically better about my severe agoraphobia that my roommate can let me go into a store by myself provided he’s no more than a couple stores away. So while I’m waiting for a predator to pick my weak ass off outside the petstore he’s in the dollar store next door where I was supposed to meet him after putting the dog food in the car. The car I am now sitting next to. I have no way to get his attention because my phone is dead and also in my bedroom because it’s useless when not plugged into the wall.

Luckily the people parked next to us come out the store and see Mr fuck leg the fucked leg boy sitting on his bag of dog food between the cars and bless this family they help me out. By trying to get roommate out of the dollar store. Which doesn’t work. So they get the dollar store manager. Who then gets roommate out of the store. I was probably sitting there for 10 minutes or so. They had kids so I’m really trying not to let them see how fucked up the rapidly growing ankle balloon is.

But yeah. Eventually roommate come out the dollar store. And get this, he does the same shit my mom did every time anything ever fucking happened to me and is all “okay if it were really broken you’d be screaming right now” as I’m finally able to prop myself up enough to get into the car. That fucking triggered me real bad and I had a breakdown in the car while he went back into the dollar store to continue shopping.

Then we went to get food.

Then we went to costco.

He said that he would take me home and then if it was “still bad tomorrow” he’d take me to the ER.

So he tries to help me out of the car to the house.

I cannot put weight on the right leg either. It is agony. He’s trying to support the bad leg but the other leg need support too. A weaker man would have screamed but I just dropped to the parking lot ground and cried.

Made an attempt to crawl to the house but the gravel on my knees was just too much on top of everything else.

So FINALLY the ER is back on the menu. Ex roommate comes out because I need someone to support each foot. And they take me to their car and they drive me to the ER and I’m trying to eat a baconator while my foot is reminding me that we should have stayed as tiktaalik. you know, not fucking biped I want semi aquatic too please please please youre nothing

The wheelchairs in the ER are designed to offer full body support but the damn things are so hard to maneuver around and cannot be user operated. So I was sitting there having to get pushed around feeling like a dumb fuck because I hate needing assistance to move I hate it I hate it I hate it. I kept reaching down expecting to find the wheel handles but they weren’t there.

ER was... fun. There was a cool cartoon I’ve never seen before “Craig of the Creek” playing on the TV. I really want to see more of it I really liked it. But a fucking anti vax guy (YEAH REALLY) was swearing and bitching because there were kids shows on the TV This show was the only comfort I fucking had. Craig was spoonfeeding me comfort with his little freeze to death without your winter clothes adventure (RIP to him but I’m different)

But yeah. Once being treated it was all really nice. My ability to make constant jokes about fucked up injury death and suffering is a really good stress relief. Shout out to the xray tech who totally understood I use dark humor to cope and in response to my joke about how if I was a horse they'd just shoot me that I would “make wonderful glue” the other people were also very kind but I kinda felt they were intimidated by how “jovial” I was about the whole thing. Like yeah. I’m “handling it well” because that’s my whole strategy. Inside I’m screaming “please not the plates please not the plates please not the plates” (I am scared of having metal plates and screws.) Fortunately the stupid little cringe bone broke just low enough on the bone that I don’t have to get the plates and screws. I was literally begging Spot and she answered.

In my moment of weakness I decided that the true nature of the “Spot Power” is that she makes it so that when I’m going through shit I’m always “being so brave about it”

I kept thinking about how Cazza thought I had abandoned her though and while roommate did give her her evening walkies she was stressed and puked on the walk. Which fucking ruined my life and I cried more hearing that than the fucking leg.

So yeah. In canada crutches and the foot boot actually cost money. I’m out like 100 dollars. Plus like 30 because roommate wanted gas. I’m just used to it by now. I definitely need to plug Cazza’s gofundme again now though. Have no clue how I’m even going to take her to her appointments. I am hesitant to hope that roommate will give her as good walks as she needs.

There were more tears over the fact that I was going to fail Cazza than that I actually broke my fucking ankle.

This shouldn’t be a shock. I knew that eventually my visual impairment and my physical disability were going to team up on me and fuck up my body even worse somehow. Always thought it was going to be stairs though. A small comfort is apparently the x ray department has had four other people come in about the exact same curb. Yeah I kid you not. The curb between the redacted dollar store and the redacted pet store confirmed for Heart of Darkness 2: Andy Ankle Adventure

They were supposed to give me more pain meds but I guess I didn’t pick them up or they forgot or something. My brain is fried so i have no idea at all.

Crutches are a massive learning curve for someone with depth issues and balance issues. I almost fell face first on the goddamn crutches several times. If I wasn’t broke and you know, if I couldn’t fucking not leg broken walk leg I would go to hardware store and make a wheeling seat thing like those scooters in gym class and then I’d have Cazza pull me on walks. That would work.

Big issue is in and out of our place is fucking stairs. Yeah. I crawled up them on hands and knees. No way in hell with my already fucking broken mobility could I go crutches up them. I have to hold onto railing or I fall down stairs so crawling it was.

I can technically take the boot off to sleep but the tightness makes it so much better so fuck that. Wish I had the rolling elementary school gym class scooter so I could drag myself around the house.

Cazza doted on me like nothing else. She tried to brace me going up the stairs but she’s not big enough for what I’d need with this fucking leg problem. She helped me change out of my clothes though. Even though she’ll never be certified she’s still my everything.

The she cuddled close to me until I had calmed down and now she’s fast asleep in her bed. I am so glad I ended up giving her her bath before going out.

I am going to attempt to make it to my bloodwork appointment tomorrow. I have rescheduled that due to chemo appointments too many times.

I can’t remember if I’m forgetting anything else. Honestly my roommate telling me the exact same shit my mom did just fucking hurt so bad. I think I know my own body better than you do. Like I’ve told him about how she didn’t believe me and I had to beg her to take me to the hospital and he ended up doing the exact same shit. All because I didn’t outwardly exhibit being in enough pain apparently.

I just hate how being disabled you always have to fucking prove you’re disabled. Like I was expected to somehow walk back to the house and up the stairs but when I got to go to the ER yeah fucking broken lol.

I just wish I had parents. I need taking care of. I always did and I never got it.

I’m scared for the future. I don’t know how I’m going to manage or how I’m going to provide for Cazza.

I wish breaking my ankle could have made Cazza’s cancer go away

[nev3rfound]

mr shy guy : p.p

brief summary: being tony’s daughter means that the avengers love you. how could they not? but out of everyone, peter is rather shy to admit it literally. 

word count: 2.5k requested: yes by the sweetest person! thank you @iconicbabesss for the request! warnings: pure fluff, as I need it tonight

(everything on my blog is my own writing. if it is shared on another page or website know it isn’t me. all rights reserved. - thank you to everyone who helped regarding the wattpad situation, you’re all amazing)

* masterlistin’

* commissions

** permanent taglist **

Everyone loved you, how could they not? You were Tony’s daughter, the Junior Stark that had the same amount of wit and charm that your father has. Yet, amongst everyone who did love you, there was one person who was nervous to admit so. 

Ever since Tony had introduced Peter to you, he had been a mumbling mess around you. What made it worse is that a lot of the Avengers witnessed it first hand and those who didn’t refuse to let Peter live the event down. 

It wasn’t just your beauty that enticed Peter, but your manner as a whole. You were caring towards others, but quick to retort if provoked. You were funny, and sometimes you weren’t even aware you were telling a joke until laughter followed shortly after. 

Somedays, you were just working in the lab unaware of company. During those moments, Peter felt rude to disturb you whilst you had some time alone. But then he’d regret walking away as the sound of Sam interrupting you filled you with joy as you conversed with him, not Peter. 

Other times, you would be figuring out the pieces of technology required to fix your Dad’s suit or help Bucky with his arm. You took the time to help those who needed it, and you even sat Peter down to go through the upgrades you and Tony installed. 

Peter listened as you explained with such knowledge and excitement about the improvements made to his suit. He could see you were eager for him to test it out, ensure he approved. And when Peter put it to the test, he was amazed at how such small differences truly made a difference. 

*

“Bye May!” Peter yells through the apartment as he stuffs his suit into his backpack, knowing he was running late for the meeting that Tony told him repeatedly not to be late for. 

May turns her head from her newspaper, only to hear the front door slam before she had the opportunity to say bye. “See you later then, Peter.” She mumbles, returning her attention back to the latest headline about a kidnapper in the upper west side of the city.

Making it into the building, Peter was panting heavily. He tried to swallow the needed breaths he was taking as he checked his watch to see he had minutes to spare. 

He made it to the lift and as it was rising, it stopped on the third floor. The doors opened and Peter had a smile on his face until the doors opened and you entered, letting out a sigh of relief. 

“Hey, Peter.” You say with a soft smile as you lean against the glass wall, flipping through your notes. “Glad to see you’re on time.” You chuckle softly, but all Peter can focus on is how fast his heart is beating in his chest. 

“Yeah, I, I got lucky.” He manages to form a sentence to you and you lower your head, smiling to yourself before you tuck your hair back behind your ear. “How’s your, your day been?” 

You look over, pleasantly surprised to see him still talking. Tilting your body, you face him fully now, and Peter mirrors your actions as you have ten more floors to go. “Busy,” You admit with a small huff. “Dad’s been having me sort a few things out for the next mission, deciding who is the best fit and all.” You explain, and Peter nods as he remains fully immersed with you as you continue to talk. 

“Am I a possible contender?” He raises an eyebrow, deep down surprised about the sudden confidence boost. 

A small laugh leaves your lips as you shake your head. “You’re funny, Peter.” You tell him. “I don’t think this is your mission I’m afraid. But maybe next time?” You suggest as the doors open and you both file out in silence as Peter keeps his head held low.

*

The meeting concludes after shy of two hours, and Peter can barely keep himself awake. 

When Tony announces it is over, you’re the first to your feet and depart with your Dad, going over what needs to be done whilst everyone else turns to face Peter with smug smiles on their faces.

Peter lifts his head up, looking around in shock. “What? Do I have something on my face?” He questions, wiping his face before Natasha shakes her head. “Did I do something?”

Sam shuffles in his seat, glancing over to Bucky who wears a small smile, forgetting how truly difficult it is to flirt in the modern-day. 

“You know, the clever thing about Stark’s tech is that he can install cameras literally anywhere,” Sam speaks up. “including the elevators.” 

Peter’s eyes widen as realisation hits. Everyone in the room heard him talking to you, including his failed attempt at flirting. 

Slowly but surely, his cheeks begin to heat up. “We get it kid, you like Y/n.” Steve states, feeling a Fatherly instinct towards the kid from Queens. “And you’re shy about tellin’ her, but the truth is she is easier to talk to than you’re making it out to be in your head.” 

“She just, she’s so good and I’m just a kid from Queens who got lucky.” Peter says with a shrug of his shoulder as silence falls over the room. 

Bucky rises to his feet and heads turn. “Kid, follow me.” Bucky says as he motions for Peter to follow which he does, leaving the room in a stunned silence that of everyone, Bucky is the one to give the kid a pep talk.

“I’ll be damned,” Sam says with a whistle. “Buckaroo’s still got it in him.” 

Following behind Bucky, Peter remains nervous as to where he’ll be led. Yet, as Bucky pushes open a door it leads to a balcony. “Stark’s not installed camera’s on this side of the tower yet, so don’t worry ‘bout listeners.” Bucky states as his hands rest in his pockets. 

“Why’d you bring me up here Mr Barnes, I, I mean Bucky.” Peter stumbles and Bucky rolls his eyes, wondering if he should’ve bothered in the first place now. 

Moving closer to the ledge, Bucky looks out at the grounds. “You see, Peter. Y/n is more complex than you might think, but she does have a routine.” Bucky explains as Peter steps forward, looking over to see you sitting on a Motorbike. “She’ll drive out to a cafe, some old place that’s hidden away. But she likes privacy there.” As Bucky explains, you drive off toward the exit and turn out of sight. 

“Why’re you telling me this?” Peter asks, looking up as Bucky sighs.

“Because everyone deserves a chance, kid.” Bucky tells him. “And we can all see you’re hopeless, so we gotta intervene if we can help it.” Leaning on the balcony, Bucky looks out as he hears the faint sounds of cars driving by, remembering when everything was once so much quieter. “A lot has changed since my day, still learning to adapt you know?” 

Peter nods to Bucky, silently thanking him before he heads toward the door. 

“Hey, Peter?” Bucky calls out and Peter pauses, turning on his heels. “Learn to not stumble over your words. Focus on her eyes and smile, it’ll help.” Bucky says with a nod before Peter departs, knowing he’s got a cafe to head to. 

*

Surprisingly, it didn’t take Peter long to find the cafe. As Bucky had explained, it definitely was hidden away with the name being kept a secret as vines grow over the wooden block. 

“Come on, Pete.” Peter mumbles to himself as he peers through the large windows, seeing you curled up in a large dusky pink armchair with a book and a tea in front of you. 

He couldn’t help but let the smile on his face grow at the sight of how peaceful you were. He understood why you’d come here, it’s away from the rest of your life, there are no distractions, no obstacles or jobs to be completed. 

An old lady opens the door, leaning against it as she raises an eyebrow to Peter. “You comin’ in from the cold or just staring at the place?” She questions and Peter stutters before following her in, knowing you would’ve witnessed that. 

Trying to keep his cool, Peter orders himself a coffee and two slices of cake, having learnt which is your favourite from your birthday last month. 

As he turns around, your book is resting on your lap and you focus on him with a small smile. “Let me guess,” You speak up as Peter holds the tray in his hands, trying to avoid spilling the content across the wooden floor. “Bucky told you ‘bout this place?” 

Peter nods as you sit upright. “I got you a slice of cake, sorry I, I probably shouldn’t have come it’s your private spot and I am intruding,” Peter rambles as he places the tray down, looking over at the door as his best bet but you reach out, taking a hold of his hand.

“Pete, it’s okay.” You tell him genuinely. “Please, take a seat. I, I don’t mind the company.” You admit as your body warms up but soon cools down as his hand slips from yours. “So, what brings you ‘round here?” 

“Felt like a change of scenery,” He states and you lean forward, already intrigued. 

“Do tell me more, Spidey.” You say with a smile, and as Peter continues to talk the conversation flows with ease. 

The longer you both sit together, the more Peter realises why everyone does love you as much as they do. Conversations are effortless, you want everyone to be engaged in the conversation they’re having. Peter can feel your focus on him, and that smile, his heart melts with it widens as you laugh.

Before you are both aware, the old lady who owns the shop is closing up for the evening. “Come on kids, I gotta close at some point.” She says and you both clean up and leave.

“I had no idea it got that late.” You say with a laugh. “You heading anywhere now?” You question, watching as Peter shakes his head. “I know a good spot, you good on bikes?”

“I’m great on bikes.” Peter lies as you give him your helmet before you take a seat and Peter nudges closely behind. 

He faces a choice of either his hands around your waist or behind him, but before he can decide you start the bike and his hands instinctively rest around your waist. Unbeknownst to Peter, you can’t stop smiling at the thought.

As you reach the destination, Peter is clinging to you tightly. “Hey, Pete? You can let go.” You say softly and Peter clears his throat before standing up and looking around. 

“Wow.” He states as he takes a step closer to the gates. “How’d you find this place?”

You rest your helmet in one hand before unlocking the gates, pushing them open as they creak with rust. “Dad used to bring Mom here.” You explain as you walk in together, looking around as the pond remains well kept. “I used to sit on these rocks over here, lie on them for hours reading in the summer. It’s a spot away from the city, it’s where I can fully unwind.” You tell Peter and he nods along, truly fascinated.

The pair of you settle on the rocks, sitting closely as the sky is filled with stars. “Have you ever been to space?” Peter speaks up, looking over as you shake your head. 

Lying down on the rocks, you stare at the stars, but Peter can’t help but stare at you. “What’s it like?” You ask him, turning your head catching him. 

Peter shuffles to lie beside you as he exhales deeply. “It’s a whole other world up there. Aliens, beautiful galaxies but like Earth, it’s filled with secrets and dangers.” 

You chuckle at the thought. “Would you ever go back?” You turn your body to face him, and Peter mirrors your actions.

“Not unless I had to. I like it down here.” He says as you smile to him, focusing on his eyes. “Why’d you bring me here, Y/n?” Peter questions, watching as you remain almost too still for comfort.

“I wanted to get to know you better, Peter. Without everyone else watching or listening in.” You say quietly. “And, it’s nice having someone my age around, you’re easy to talk to and that’s what I like about you.” You tell him, unaware those words left your lips until you see his eyes widen.

“You like me?” He raises an eyebrow, watching as like your Dad, you hold your ground.

“Yeah,” You respond, shuffling closer. “that alright with you?”

Peter closes the distance between you, kissing you softly before pulling away. “Perfectly fine by me.”

t a g l i s t (thank you for the support!)

@biss-stuff   @psychicforest  @lourightm @mywinterwolf   @justsomedreaming @stanlux17@supermoonchildbroski @xrosegoldwolfx @courtneychicken@marvelsangels @supraveng @tommy-lee-81

[mirrorballparkers]

𝐚 𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐛𝐢𝐭 ❦ 𝐩.𝐩

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: 𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐛𝐢𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐚𝐠𝐞; 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫.

authors note; idk what i’m doing i’m tired but i really loved this and worked hard on it so lol enjoy my babes

wc; 2.3k

-

 “baby, stop pacing on the bench, come sit down and let me hold your hand.”

hearts racing. the sound of muffled singing around you. sheet music flying everywhere; yep, it was musical audition season, and you were paralyzed with trepidation - if only you could skip this heinous step, you wouldn’t feel an anchor weighing into your chest. thankfully, you had your safe place with you; peter parker.

every october for the last three years you had been attending the halls of midtown high, you would go through the same process every time; and every time it felt like this: sweaty palms, a giant water bottle in one hand and your character shoes/music sheets in the other, and a giant, papered number taped to your chest as you dwindle in the outside corridor of the schools auditorium, awaiting for your set of numbers to be called.

“shh,” you hold a hand up, well down to peters level, he was sitting criss-cross on the bench, picking at one of the flowers in the pot standing beside him. you were currently on the little stairway ledge, pacing back and forth slowly, also trying to retrieve some peace and serenity to replace the utter apprehensive feeling in your entire body. it was flowing through you uncomfortably, you felt like you couldn’t properly speak or move. your whole mind was fixated on this one audition, this one chance to show off your passion for the arts. “i can't concentrate, pete. i have to memorize this particular bar,”

you thrived in the arts, everyone knew so, peter knew so; but the one thing you didn’t exactly have the best luck with, was auditioning for said production. each year, you’d go into the audition, feeling great; once you stood in front of the director of the show, along with the other staff involved, you froze completely. a deer caught in the headlights. after every audition, you wound up coming out of the auditorium paralyzed in terror and chagrin; thinking that what could’ve been your best, was the worst.

you had the worst luck at auditions, yet you always prevail and get into the show, but this year you wanted to be different; so you figured, asking your boyfriend, who also was your best friend if anything, could be your moral support.

peter parker would do anything for his favorite person, especially when he recognized the angelic talent you showcased. to him, you were already a star. you were his star. in a result of agreeing to go with you, he prepped for the evening in advance; bringing you tea to school, making sure you were on vocal rest, asking you how you were feeling, sitting with you while you rehearsed in the choir room like a soft, patient puppy. his tantalizing eyes pouring into your heart, he felt like he was witnessing something so ethereal like, something astronomical and out of this world.

each note that came out of you, would form into a pretty flower and go right into his heart. he would listen to every word, feel every word.

“your voice is a pure fairytale,” he'd mutter, leaning close to you, your hearts performing their own duet, a beautiful harmony.

peter sighs and gets up from the bench, flower still twirling between his index finger and thumb, the flower was almost as pretty as you. nothing ever came close, though.

“you know,” he holds his free hand out, offering to help you down, “all you need is courage, baby girl.”

“great advice, maybe i won’t come out wanting to puke.” you scoff, holding onto peters hand as you carefully jump down from the little ledge.

“you won’t puke,” peter chuckles, leaning close to you as he brushes some hair out of your face.

“but i’ll be horrendous, pete.”

peters eyes gaze into yours. he couldn’t fathom how someone like you could be real, standing in front of him. you were truly a fairytale. a true, given talent, and he wished you knew that and felt that way about yourself

“baby bug, what’s going on inside your head, hmm? why is my love so worked up?” he quips, holding your cheek with his hand, you nuzzle deeper into it, feeling that security. you always felt calm with peter, he was your security blanket. he believed in you when nobody else did, talked to you, listened to you; he was with you no matter what. normally, peter wouldn’t be this affection in public, but he felt like it today. not like you would oblige.

“just don’t want to fail. 'm quite over it, it's exhausted.”

because you were best friends and soulmates, peter could feel everything you were feeling. he could feel the anchor on your entire body, weighing you down into that deep, dark hole of negativity. all he had to do was pull you out of it, and hold you close. and tell you how wonderful you were, and that was easy.

“you…” peter sighs, becoming incoherent because he was so mesmerized by how extraordinary you were, how angelic and adroit you were. “have this ability to just…make people feel things, you don’t even have to try, you just do it. when you sing to me, i feel so many things,”

“i hope they’re good things..”

peter had a goofy grin, causing you to gasp playfully and poke his side, so he refrained from saying anything silly. but he was glad that he made you laugh. “yes, they’re good things,”

you smile, finally, which makes peters lips curl into his adorable smile as well. he looks over at the flower he was still subconsciously twirling, them looks over at you.

“i just wanna do well..” you sigh, blowing some air out. “my chest feels like it has a bubble. i’ve been rehearsing these songs for weeks.”

peter looks into your eyes again, and brushes some hair out of your face, then tucks the flower behind your ear.

of course, you blushed, peter always made you blush, which happened to be one of the cutest sights. “w-why’d you do that?”

peter intertwines his hands with yours, then holds them to his heart.

“i-i know i can’t go in there with you. one it’s..kind of weird like i don’t sing and i don’t think two people can literally audition together, but i figured…if i give you that little flower, you’d kind of have a little bit of me on that stage with you?”

you cup his cheek, rubbing it with your thumb, “i don’t know how i’d do anything without you with me, pete. thank you.”

“hey,” peter giggles awkwardly, wondering how he spoke so smoothly, “well, i’m your pete. i always will be; now go get em’.” he leans forward, pecking your lips softly, his sweet lips lingering over yours for just a few seconds. tasted like gummies, which wasn’t unpredictable at all.

“you’ll be right hereafter, right? you’re not leaving?” you bounce on the balls of your feet, looking back at the doors of the auditorium. it was quite haunting at night; all the lights were dim, some weren’t even on, or they were glitching - that didn’t make you feel safe, it made you feel quite decrepit and vulnerable.

“i’ll be right here, and guess what? i’ll have all the hugs you could ever imagine,” peter pokes your cheek.

“just for me?” you bite the bottom of your lip.

“just for you,” peter kisses your cheek. “go break a leg, superstar. but not literally, please. my baby can’t be hurt.”

(no matter how many times you told peter it was a theatre term, not real, he would never believe it.) you nod, giving him a swift hug before heading into the auditorium.

a little bit of peter with you was all you ever needed. ❦

taglist: @plushparker @mcuspidey @fairytaleparker @lostinspidey @naturallytom @blushypetey @neverlandparker @cutesparker @akaspiderman @pastelpeter @candlelightparker

[gumnut-logic]

V. T. Green (Part 2)

Title: V. T. Green

Part One | Part Two

Author: Gumnut

25 Aug – 1 Sep 2019

Fandom: Thunderbirds Are Go 2015/ Thunderbirds TOS

Rating: Teen

Summary: “Did you discover this, Brains?” He frowned. There was something familiar about this. Maybe they had discussed it recently.

“Oh, no, this is V. T. Green. The man is brilliant.”

Word count: 3161

Spoilers & warnings: None.

Timeline: Standalone

Author’s note: This is one that I have been meaning to write for some time. I hope you enjoy it :D Many thanks to both @scribbles97 and @vegetacide for all their wonderful help with this.

Disclaimer: Mine? You’ve got to be kidding. Money? Don’t have any, don’t bother.

-o-o-o-

He didn’t get more coffee because they were called out not five minutes after he swallowed the dregs of what he already had.

Everything was dropped and International Rescue deployed. They were in the air within minutes, Scott in One, Virgil, Gordon and Alan in Two, and on their way to the Canadian Rockies to save a party of climbers caught in a rockfall.

It was pretty standard. Well, as standard as any rescue could be except his littlest brother was stoked on caffeine and did something really stupid.

The climbers were pinned on the side of a narrow canyon. Thunderbird Two landed on bare rock some distance off. Scott hovered out of disturbance range and deployed a drone to get clearer readings on the stability of the area.

Stable wasn’t quite the right word.

“Virg, this is eggshells. One wrong move and the whole north side of the canyon is going to collapse. I’m surprised it hasn’t already. Freeze-thaw fractures all down its length.” A pause. “Looks as if the canyon was formed by a similar movement in the past.”

After some consideration and throwing out of ideas, Virgil decided a helipod and a rescue rig would be the best option. The air was almost ominous in its stillness and the less weight on that north side, the better. The less disturbance, the better. The faster they got down there, the better.

Virgil tasked Gordon with piloting the pod, while Alan assisted Virgil with the rescue rig itself, the ten seats more than enough to grab five climbers off the vertical side of the canyon. Within minutes the three of them were hovering halfway down the crevice, Virgil reaching for the first of the injured climbers.

“Thank god for International Rescue.” The first man literally leapt across the space between the rock and the rig before Virgil could even say hello, much less do an assessment for injury. The party had obviously been climbing further up and had been caught in the first of what was likely to be several rockfalls.

“Lower us down to the next victim, Gordon.” Scott’s drone hovered protectively, following them and monitoring the situation.

The rig shifted smoothly under his brother’s manoeuvring. The second victim was a woman with a broken arm and scratches down the side of her face. Despite this, she was calm as Alan assisted her onto the rig, providing a safety line as she disconnected from her hastily secured piton.

They hurried onto the third victim, who had fallen further and was hanging precariously from a ledge, safety line swinging as they moved.

“No, you must help Jenna first! She’s pinned.”

“Sir, please keep still.” Scott was listing the injuries of the fourth climber as Virgil stabilised the third while he continued to protest. It didn’t look good for Jenna at all.

It was one of those moments of decision all the Tracy brothers hated.

“Gordon, lower us to the fifth victim.”

“What? You can’t leave her!”

“Sir, we are not leaving her. This rock face is fragile. Our priority is to save as many of you as possible, as fast as possible. Jenna will take longer than the fifth member of your team. We must secure them, before tackling Jenna.” Who may not even survive. It wasn’t fair to risk the fifth person because of the fourth.

The man continued to protest as Gordon lowered the rig past the prone Jenna. His yells grew louder and more desperate. There were tears.

“Virgil, I’ll stay with Jenna while you rescue the fifth climber.” And before he could stop him, Alan had fired his grapple gun, disengaged his safety line with the rig, and leapt onto the wall.

“Alan!” His voice was echoed by Scott’s in his helmet. “What the hell are you doing?! The rock face is too fragile!”

“It will hold long enough. Just grab the other guy.” Alan secured his safety line to the unconscious Jenna

“Scott! Give me a scan!”

His brother sent the drone’s read outs to Virgil’s HUD. Shit. “Alan, don’t move!”

“Virg-“

It happened so fast it was a blur.

A sharp crack and the whole rock face was moving, falling. His brother and the limp Jenna with it. “Alan!”

Virgil clambered over the rig, his boots hitting the empty seat pads one after the other.

Alan was falling.

He wasn’t secured, his grapple piton falling with the rock face.

His little brother was going to die at the bottom of this godawful crevice.

No.

Virgil jumped.

And reached.

God, please, no.

His fingers hooked the edge of Alan’s harness just as his own safety line yanked tight, wrenching him hard. Alan’s weight pulled on his shoulder, but it was the sudden addition of Jenna, the safety line between her and his brother snapping tight, that sparked and burned the muscles in his arm and shoulder.

A gasped yell and he forced his fingers to stay closed. Shit. Damn. Ow. God, that hurt.

He suddenly realised his eyes were squeezed shut and he shoved them open.

“What the hell are you doing?!” It wasn’t any of his brothers, it was...”Jenna?! Oh god, Jenna!” The third rescuee.

“Virgil? What the hell?!” That was a brother. Alan.

And then there were more brothers in his ears. He squeezed his eyes shut again for just a moment, before rasping out, “Scott, need a hand.”

But there was already thunder far above. A number of breaths later and a shadow passed him, lowering itself into the canyon. His eldest brother’s arms appeared in his field of vision, a safety line hooking Alan to the rescue rig, back up for the pain holding his little brother aloft. “Hold on, Virgil. I will secure the rescuee.” The grapple line supporting his brother lowered, a basket stretcher dangling from it.

“FAB.” It was whispered.

He focussed on keeping his grip on his little brother. The same little brother was swearing colourfully until a sharp word from Scott cut him off. Time passed slowly. A tug here and there sparked white flashes of pain.

He kept his fingers curled.

“You can let go now, Virgil.” His brother’s voice was soft.

“Fifth climber...”

“Already have him, Virgil, he’s safe. Alan is secure. You can let go.” Blue fingers wrapped around his and tugged gently.

His fingers let go and the sudden lack of weight shot up through the length of his arm and shoulder. A sharp gasp deteriorated into a groan as his brother, now held aloft by his jet pack, deftly tucked Virgil’s arm against his side, strapping it to his body with a support bandage.

“Okay, up you go.” And Scott wrapped his arms around him and they rose upwards. A second or two later and Virgil found himself strapped into his own rescue rig.

The third rescuee pummelled Scott with questions about Jenna.

“Sir, she is receiving the best care possible. We will be evacuating to the nearest hospital as fast as possible. Gordon, take us up.”

The next hours became a blur of the green of his ‘bird, his medbay, the white of the hospital and the blue of his youngest brother’s eyes.

Alan refused to speak to him. Gordon hovered and prodded in his usual way, obviously unhappy with the silence. Turned out Virgil had torn several muscles in both his arm and shoulder, almost dislocating it, and wouldn’t be flying for a few weeks at least, so he had to sit behind his aquanaut brother as he flew Virgil’s ‘bird home.

Alan sat in the co-pilot’s seat and said nothing the entire flight.

The moment TB2 came to a halt in her hangar, Alan was on his feet and lowering the hatch, leaving both of his brothers staring after him.

“You need a hand, Virg?”

Virgil, still feeling the effects of the painkillers liberally dealt out at the hospital, unstrapped himself and forced himself to his feet. “I’m fine, thanks, Gordon.” His brother shot him a sceptical expression.

Virgil straightened up. “Good flight home. Don’t forget post-flight.” It worked. Gordon glared at him before turning back to the controls.

A step and he made his way over to the hatchway that had retracted after his brother stormed off and lowered himself to the floor of the hangar. His arm was in a tightly secured sling curled up against his chest. Fortunately, or not, it was his right arm, so his baldric had been able to be removed by Scott at the hospital along with his harness and toolkit, but his sleeve had been taken to with a lasercutter and this uniform was destined for the recycler.

The hangar air was cool on his exposed skin.

A quick visit to his rooms to change and then he would have to face the debrief. A little light headed, he was not looking forward to it.

The elevator wall served nicely as a crutch.

-o-o-o-

“Why the hell did you do that?!” Angry blue eyes stared at him in accusation. “I had it all under control until you screwed it all up.”

“Under control? You were falling, Alan!”

“I had my grapple gun! If you hadn’t grabbed me, I could have spun around and secured myself!”

“If you hadn’t jumped onto that rock face, I wouldn’t have had to grab you!”

He hadn’t made it to the comms room. Hadn’t even made it to his rooms yet. Alan had jumped him just outside the elevator and tried to rip him a new one.

“I had it under control.”

“No, you didn’t, Alan! You caused that slide. You knew it was fragile, why the hell did you risk it?”

“She was his wife.”

“So? You risked yours, mine, the fifth climber and hers because you couldn’t wait a few extra moments.”

“He was in distress.”

“Everybody was in distress. What the hell, Alan?” How his brother even knew the pair were married, Virgil had no idea.

“Sometimes, you are just stupid, Virgil.” It was said quietly, but with malice. It froze the retort in Virgil’s throat. Blue eyes looked up at him with such derision. “Just stupid.” With that his little brother turned his back on him and stormed off.

-o-o-o-

Scott ran his hands through his hair and stared at his brother across the lounge. Gordon stared back, a worried expression on his face. Alan sat to his right, a ball of defiant anger. John hovered in the middle of the room, slightly distracted by something out of range of the holosensors, but frown no less prominent.

Virgil was absent.

Scott hit his comms for a second time. “Virgil? Debrief. We’re waiting for you.”

Nothing.

“He’s in his bedroom.” John’s voice was calm, the hint obvious. “He’s still in his uniform, so I’m still getting partial vitals.” Partial due to the shredded sleeve, no doubt.

Scott sighed. This was brewing to be a nasty debrief. He had put aside his own anger pending an explanation from his youngest brother, but that same youngest brother had obviously not bothered to do the same. Standing, he straightened his shirt. “I’ll check on him. You two stay here. We have a lot to cover.”

Alan just glared as Gordon gave him a single nod. Brains sat in another corner completely absorbed by his tablet. He could feel Grandma’s eyes following him as he left the room.

An elevator ride later, a soft knock on his brother’s door had as much effect as hailing him on comms.

A flick of fingers and he overrode the lock on the door and slipped inside quietly. It wasn’t the first time he had snuck into his brother’s quarters and he had no doubt it wouldn’t be the last, but it wasn’t something he did lightly.

He found Virgil asleep on his bed, curled up on one side, his left arm outstretched, fingers limp and pointing to the tablet face down on the floor.

Scott fought the urge to roll his eyes. Leaning over, he picked up the tablet and tucked his brother’s arm back onto the bed. Virgil, as predicted, didn’t stir in the slightest.

Soft snores danced around the room.

Scott placed the tablet on the bedside table. Disturbed, the screen flickered to life.

With a photo of his mother.

The picture was so unexpected, it jarred him and he found the tablet in his hands again. Brown and smiling eyes stared up at him from a face that echoed her second eldest son’s so much that Scott found himself swallowing. A glance at the man on the bed asked questions that weren’t answered.

Straightening up, his eyes darted back to the photo, drawing in the beloved yet pain-filled details. A blink and he shut down the screen, placing the tablet back where it belonged.

Virgil’s debrief could wait.

He left just as silently as he entered.

-o-o-o-

The room was dark when Virgil finally woke. The blinds were still open, the night sky darkening to a long-lost sunset and it took him a moment to work out what time of the day it was. A blink and his attempt to roll over reminded him of exactly why he was in bed.

“Augh.”

Still in his uniform. He hadn’t meant to fall asleep. He had just needed a moment. Lightheadedness and the fog of painkillers forcing him to sit down. Sit down had become lie down and lie down had become sleep.

A sigh. At least he’d managed to take off his boots.

He stared at his bedroom ceiling. A long time ago he had taken a brush to it, swirling pastels of greens and blues into a calming abstract for moments such as these. His eyes traced the lines, travelling in a meditative path designed to create calm.

He sought it, but couldn’t find it. His shoulder and arm ached, very obviously overdue for another blasted painkiller. But most of all the disdain in his little brother’s eyes haunted him.

Virgil wasn’t stupid. He wasn’t taking his brother’s words to heart. It was more the thought that his brother thought he was stupid. Sure, he was one of five extremely high achieving brothers. Unlike the other four, he had never felt the need to prove his knowledge or his skill beyond gaining his qualification. He knew what he was capable of. He had thought his brothers did, too. The thought that he didn’t have that confidence cut him to the core.

Had he lost Alan’s trust?

And if so, why?

Perhaps it was just words said in anger. Alan was volatile and had been known to go off the deep end in the past.

Maybe his own response to the situation was poorly considered. Thinking back and seeing his brother falling to almost certain death...no, he couldn’t see another way to react. So, Alan might have been able to fire another grapple, but Virgil had been there. There was no way he was going to leave his brother’s life to chance.

But then perhaps that was what Alan was angry about. Perhaps he should have trusted his little brother to have the skill to save himself.

Shit.

The thought of letting him fall...hell, Alan was his little brother. He’d prefer it was himself falling rather than Alan. From the days of yanking him out of haystacks, through to helping him with his homework, through to dropping him off at the local mall...goddamnit, he was his little brother. If he could, he would save him, regardless. It wasn’t a matter of trust, it was a matter of love.

If that lined him up with smother brother number one, well, so be it.

Even if he was the stupid one in his little brother’s eyes.

And yes, that still hurt.

His lips thinned. He needed to talk to Alan.

A blink.

Shit.

He’d missed debrief.

Scott would not be happy.

Grabbing his tablet, he expected to find a firm reminder or a chain of queries for a report.

A frown as one of his favourite photos of his mother appeared as the tablet flickered on.

Mom.

He stared at her smiling face for a few seconds before minimising the image. He had several photos of his mother on the tablet. They gave him strength. Reminded him of where he came from and what was important.

His messages came up, and, sure enough, at the top of the list was Scott Tracy. But the note was kindly, asking him to check in when he woke and a reminder to take his medication. Virgil found a small smile on his lips, a fondness swelling somewhere in his midsection. Sometimes it was nice to have an older brother looking out for you, smother or not.

A quick glance at the rest of his notifications and the fondness switched to awe. Several thousand messages were sitting on his blog.

Hell.

But it wasn’t until his eyes landed on an extensive message from one Dr HH that his eyes nearly fell out of his head.

Dear Doctor Green.

It is with much admiration that I send this request for communication. I have been an avid follower of your work for the last year and feel that your work and mine would complement each other in a great many ways...

And Brains, as it was so obviously Doctor Hiram Hackenbacker, proceeded to gush about the polymer equations as much as he had over breakfast, if not more, adding a number of high-end equations and possible applications. He didn’t quite say the words ‘International Rescue’, nor did he mention any of the proprietary knowledge that existed only on this island, but he did end the letter with...

...It is my hope that you will be willing to join your intellect with mine in the aim to save many lives in the future.

Yours sincerely,

Dr HH

It was as much a fan letter as a genuine request to share knowledge.

The rest of the notifications paled in comparison. Brains saw him as an intellectual equal?

He had been working with Brains for years. They had been swapping ideas forever, but Virgil had always considered the older engineer far above him in intellect. Brains invented the Thunderbirds. Virgil just kept them operational and threw the occasional idea in Brains’ direction.

Hell, Brains had several doctorates. Virgil hadn’t studied anywhere near that level.

It suddenly all became uncomfortable, and a little ironic considering Alan’s earlier accusation.

He dropped the tablet and went back to staring at the ceiling, eyes automatically tracking the lines of swirl yet again.

The moon was rising over the edge of the sea and a breeze had picked up, tossing the palm trees around outside his window.

He knew he had to get up and face the music. Scott wanted to speak to him, he needed another dose of those brain numbing painkillers and he had to talk to his littlest brother.

Instead he lay there lost in thought.

-o-o-o-

End Part Two.

Part Three

[sinfullystanning]

V is for Voler Part 3: Hell in Heaven

Bucky Barnes x Darcy Lewis (Wintershock)

A/N: I know I probably should have waited, and spaced things out, but I couldn’t help it, I’m posting it now! Thank you to everyone who’ve been supporting the new changes to the fic!

The cool Paris night air ruffled Bucky’s hair as he climbed the rickety metal fire escape stairs behind V. He might have been an assassin once, but he felt like a bag of bricks compared to the way she moved. Even as his footsteps here quieter than most, they seemed to echo in comparison to the soundless way she practically flew up flight after flight of stairs. Her feet moved in precise yet memorized steps making it clear that she’s taken this route more than a few times. Even in heels that could easily catch in the grated metal and the long dress that would have limited the leg movement of any other woman, she moved as if she were wearing the most comfortable clothes in the world.

Finally, the stairs ended on a landing similar to all the others, all once-red, now-rusted iron railings, and just enough front space to fit a welcome mat and perhaps a flower pot or two. This landing, however, unlike the others before it, was empty. As a matter of fact, to the casual observer, it seemed as if no one lived in the top floor unit, as it was devoid of life and emotion, nothing that remotely clued in the fact that anyone lived there.

That’s why Bucky was absolutely taken aback when V turned the key in the lock and held the door open behind her to invite him in. If the outside of the house screamed decrepit inactivity, the inside boasted opulent extravagance. The walls were painted black with a tastefully stenciled on vine pattern that was all Parisian charm in bold red. The crown molding that ran along the top of the room was an elegant gold that caught and threw light across space. The short entryway led into an open living room with a surprisingly high ceiling that was painted red and accentuated by a sizable skylight. The room was furnished with pieces in various blacks and shades of red with specks of gold here and there, with a handsome gold-painted fireplace looking over the space. Bucky’s eyes caught an identical pair of frames adorning the gilded ledge that held small canvases that both read “voler,” one in red paint and the other in black. “Voler,” the same word he’d seen on V’s back earlier.

He walked over to run a curious finger along one of them before turning to search for his host, eyes finding her leaning against a post by the entrance to what he assumed was the kitchen. Nodding in the direction of the frames without taking his eyes off of her he asked, “What’s with the word?”

V’s position was that of guarded nonchalance, appearing relaxed to most, but Bucky knew that her senses were working double time, watching him without wanting him to feel watched. Too bad he was an expert at the tactic himself. She shifted her weight at his question, arms crossing just a tad tighter across her chest, her hair slipping from where it had been pinned against the pillar by her head to gracefully arrange itself around her taut shoulders. Finally, she broke her silence, “I heard you tonight, your French isn’t too bad, you tell me, Soldat.”

Bucky frowned. “First, I told you to call me Bucky. Second-”

“Why? I like seeing you all riled up, Soldat.” Her eyes sparkled with laughter as he glared at her. “You were saying?”

He tried his best to let it go, but every utterance of that word from his past was an annoyingly sharp prick in his brain. “Voler, it’s a verb, to fly.” Right? his eyes asked as they met hers, his icy blue battling the roaring waves of hers.

“Half correct. Voler is an interesting verb as it has two meanings. One, the one you stated, to fly, but another as well, to steal.” Her eyes danced as her red lips curled into a devilish smile.

“So you’re a thief?” Bucky grabbed the string with both hands, anything that could possibly disclose more information about the woman in front of him.

V scoffed. “Such a crude word. I’m a freelancer, I’ll do anything, for a price. I’ll be anything, a thief, an assassin, et cetera. Why, did you need something stolen, because usually I don’t take on multiple jobs at once, but I think I could make an exception for you.” She was toying with him, but rather than pissing him off, Bucky felt a thrill of adrenaline run through him. Winning against her was going to be harder than he thought.

“Why ‘V’?” He was pushing his luck, but he had to know. “We both know that’s not your real name.”

Surprisingly, she answered without a pause. “V, the Roman numeral for five. Five fingers make a fist, five fingers can hold a gun, five fingers can kill.” Her eyes glinted with danger but Bucky was sinking right in.

He decided it was time to change topics, however, and reigned in his thoughts. “So, is there a reason you brought me here because I know it’s not because you trust me.”

She chuckled, conceding to the change of topic. “If we’re going to work together, we’re going to need to literally work together, so you’ll be staying here.” Bucky was dumbfounded, but she was smart, bringing the fight onto her home turf, upending the playing field. “Unless that’s a problem?” She asked the question but Bucky knew there was only one answer.

“Not at all.” She nodded at that before straightening up, stretching before turning to disappear down a hallway. “You’re taking the couch.” She called over her shoulder as she went.

The moment she was gone, Bucky let out the breath he didn’t know he’d been holding, flopping down onto the black leather affair in front of the fireplace, running a tired hand through his hair before reaching down to loosen his tie. Just as he closed his eyes for a second, he felt a thrum through his senses, and his eyes shot back open, just in time to see the cause for the movement he’d registered.

Standing in front of him was a wolf. At least it definitely looked like one. Its coat was pitch black, fitting the rest of the decor of the room so well that he wouldn’t have been sure it was real if not for the slight rise and fall of its chest as it watched him soundlessly. Had it been in the room the whole time? He started to wonder if his age was finally catching up to him, as V’s life always seemed to run one step ahead of him. Or maybe it was just some intoxicating spell she had on him, dulling his senses, making him vulnerable.

Neither of them moved until finally, Bucky regained his composure and slowly extended a downturned hand to the animal to smell. Before it could, however, a voice broke the silence. “Thief, he’s a friend." Bucky heard V come back into the room, slowly crossing over to the couch. “Don’t move.” She advised him but it was then that the wolf, Thief apparently, opened his mouth and extended a rough pink tongue that licked Bucky’s hand before then nudging it with his nose. Bucky acquiesced, patting the jet-black snout gently before Thief invited him to scratch his head.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” V said, clearly surprised by the animal’s behavior. Bucky turned to look up at her.

“So were you planning to tell me you had a wolf living here too, or just mention it after I died in my sleep?”

“He’s not a wolf, he’s a German Shepherd.” She said, but Bucky could hear a note of guilt in her voice.

“Good to know. Now, are there any other roommates I should know about?” He asked as Thief wagged his tail, clearly pleased with the attention Bucky was giving him.

V shook her head. Bucky took a minute to admire her, she’d changed out of her finery into a red lace pajama top and black satin shorts that brushed her thighs with a matching robe, currently open, and a pair of glasses now perched on her nose. “I don’t get it.” She said, pulling his attention back as she gazed at her dog in astonishment. “He LIKES you.”

“One more thing you two have in common, other than your taste in color, apparently.” Bucky joked pleasantly.

“You don’t get it. Thief’s never met another person before.” That piqued Bucky’s interest.

“Never?”

V shook her head, now-loose curls bobbing. “I got him when he was just a puppy and he exercises on the roof.” She explained as if that cleared up everything.

“Well, maybe he just needed a friend,” Bucky said, shrugging. V nodded but was clearly lost in thought over something else.

She broke out of it for a second, tossing Bucky the blanket he hadn’t noticed she was holding. “Bathroom’s over there.” She motioned behind her towards the hallway she’d disappeared down earlier. “Thief, let’s go, it’s bedtime.” Thief had other plans, however, laying down on the rug next to the sofa. “Traître.” Traitor. She muttered at him before turning around and disappearing back the way she came.

Bucky sighed, gaze drifting to his new companion who was watching him back from his place on the floor. “You’re not going to kill me in my sleep are you, buddy?” He said as he untied his dress shoes and pulled off his socks, followed by his suit jacket and tie that he laid out on the armchair next to his make-shift bed before spreading the blanket over the surprisingly-wide couch and climbing underneath it, letting sleep take him.

***

Darcy woke up in the middle of the night. Groaning, she rolled out of her expansive four-poster king-sized bed. For the first time, it felt too big for one person. Sliding her glasses back onto her nose and grabbing her robe off of the crowded hatstand by her bedroom door, she crept out into the hallway, soundlessly making her way towards the kitchen. After procuring the glass of water she saught, she leaned against the kitchen counter as she drank, watching the back of the couch. Curiosity got the best of her and she padded over, stopping to let a smile steal across her face at the sight of Bucky asleep with Thief draped over him. Perhaps Thief was right about Bucky and blind faith wasn’t such a bad thing to place in him, but Bucky Barnes was an Avenger and though Darcy had only met one other Avenger in her life, she knew exactly what kind of damage they could deal, so she wiped the smile from her face and headed back to bed.

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