#my brain short circuits every time i see this clip of her so i had to post it myself

[viwifey]

ARCANE 1.09 - "THE MONSTER YOU CREATED"

CAITLYN KIRAMANN

[shemarmooresfedora]

A Bump in the Road

Summary: You and Spencer had kept your relationship a secret from the team until something changed your plans.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Content/Warnings: brief mentions of a case but other than that, just pure fluff!

Word Count: 1.5k

A/N: this is the first of my 3 fics for me and @samuel-de-champagne-problems 500 follower co-celebration! the prompts for both of us today were: Accidental Pregnancy, Reader/Spencer looking for excuses to hold the other’s hand, “I need to talk to you…like right now”. To see her fic today and our upcoming prompts: click here!

Masterlist

“Prentiss, Morgan, you go to the neighborhood of the victims. Y/L/N, Reid, go downtown and just look around for anything strange,” Hotch stated, “I need you all to look casual while scoping out the area so try to look like normal citizens and don’t flash your badges.”

Derek raised his shades to put them on but Gideon gently grabbed his arm to stop him, “Less official.”

Emily let out a chuckle, “Let’s go, Morgan.”

“You ready, Spence?” you grabbed the keys.

“Yes, lov- ,” he played it off as a cough, “Yes, Y/L/N.”

“That was a close one,” Spencer said as he adjusted his satchel as you walked out of the police department together.

“You’re the one who keeps almost calling me ‘love’ in the conference room in front of the whole team! And on the jet!” you added with a giggle.

“It’s not my fault!” he insisted, “My brain short-circuits whenever I look at your beautiful face.”

“You’re hard to stay mad at,” you playfully rolled your eyes.

You and Spencer had been dating for about 4 months now. You decided to keep it a secret from the team until your six month anniversary. You didn’t need the teasing at the beginning of your relationship when things were still a bit new and awkward. But now, you both had said ‘I love you’ and you were practically living at his apartment when you weren’t away on cases. It was perfect.

-

You and Spencer were walking down the sidewalk downtown, looking for anyone who seemed to fit the profile.

“Hmmm we seem too official,” you smiled, grabbing his hand, “I guess we have to act like a happy couple. You know, just for the case.”

“Yep, just for the case,” Spencer squeezed your hand, leaning down to give you a kiss on the cheek.

“For the case,” he grinned.

You cupped his cheeks and pulled him back in for a much longer kiss on the lips.

“For.” you planted butterfly kisses along his jawline, “The.” another kiss, “Case.”

Spencer opened his mouth to speak but was cut off by the sound of his phone buzzing in his pocket.

“Hotch,” he said before swiping accept and putting it on speaker phone, “Hey Hotch. You’ve got me and Y/L/N.”

“Morgan and Prentiss caught the unsub trying to grab another victim off the street. They fit the profile to a tee. We’re bringing them in for questioning but we’ll take shifts. You and Y/L/N can go back to the hotel and get some rest first.”

“Alright, thanks Hotch,” Spencer hung up the phone.

“Oh I think there’s one more thing we have to do when we get back to the hotel room…for the case,” you winked, pulling him back to the SUV with your hands still interlocked.

-

You were in the bathroom stall of the sixth floor, anxiously bouncing your legs up and down.

The timer on your phone started vibrating, indicating the time was up. You stared at the stick in front of you, waiting to be flipped over.

You flipped it over quickly like ripping off a band-aid. Two lines. The second one was faint but definitely there. You were pregnant. 5 months into a relationship with Spencer.

You rolled the test up in toilet paper before placing it in your purse. You washed your hands and splashed some cold water on your face. You took a deep breath before walking back into the bullpen like you hadn’t just received life-altering news.”

You grabbed a random file from your desk as you passed by and approached Spencer’s desk. He looked up from his paperwork with a soft smile as he saw you coming.

“I need to talk to you…like right now,” you whispered, “About the Johnson case,” you spoke a little louder so no one would question what you two were whispering about.

Spencer began to stand and grab his jacket to follow you but Penelope came charging into the room, grabbing you by the arm and pulling you towards her bat cave.

“Actually, Penelope, I have to ask Spencer some questions about a case. I’ll come find you in a bit.”

Spencer nodded to back you up.

“Trust me, the news I have is wayyy more important,” Penelope continued to tug at you.

“Penelope, I really need to finish this. Just give me the highlights now,” you resisted her pull.

“I found a pregnancy test box in the bathroom and I didn’t find the stick. I’m no profiler but usually people would only keep the test with them if it’s positive,” she confessed, “Someone on this floor is pregnant!”

Your eyes widened and you mentally slapped yourself on the forehead. How could you forget to throw the box away?

You made eye contact with Spencer, shooting him a sheepish grin as if to say ‘surprise?!’

Penelope started to drag you along again but Spencer grabbed a hold of your other arm.

“Actually, Hotch really needs her to get this done, Garcia. I promise she’ll be over as soon as we finish it.”

Penelope and Spencer were engaged in an intense staring battle with you in the middle.

“Ugh, fine! I’ll just have to gossip with Morgan! Now you don’t get to know all my theories,” Penelope huffed.

“I’m sorry, Penelope. I’ll make it up to you at lunch tomorrow.

As she clicked away with her high heels on, Spencer pulled you into a supply closet.

“You’re pregnant?!” he asked.

“Um, yeah I am. I understand if this isn’t what you want though, it’s not really the timing either of us had in mind,” you spoke softly, rubbing your arm.

Spencer pulled you in for a hug, “I’m happy if you’re happy. I’ll support whatever decision you make. I can schedule you an appointment at the clinic and I’ll be right by your side the whole time. But if you do decide to have this child, have no doubt that I will be there every step of the way with you in raising them.”

“I think I’m going to keep it,” you smiled softly.

“We’re having a baby?” Spencer beamed.

“You’re gonna be a dad, Spence.”

The closet door swung open, revealing a confused Anderson.

“I don’t know why this is so emotional for you, Reid. We’re out of paper clips,” you crossed your arms as Spencer wiped his happy tears away.

Anderson grabbed some extra staples and scurried out of the closet.

“Most women tend to find out they’re pregnant from 4 to 7 weeks and we’ve been together for 15,” Spencer stated.

“Even your sperm is smart. They managed to get past my birth control so quickly,” you laughed.

-

You and Spencer decided to wait to tell the team until the end of your first trimester. After that, you couldn’t put it off any longer because you were beginning to show slightly if you wore tight shirts. Also, it was killing Spencer to have to pretend that his child was not inside your tummy all day.

You tried to schedule ultrasounds before or after work but sometimes one of you would have to take the day off in advance for ‘a family thing’ while one of you would mysteriously ‘fall ill’ the day of.

Your doctor had just given you the all clear that the baby was perfectly healthy at the end of the first trimester so you were ready to tell the team.

You wore a tight shirt with a jacket over it for the announcement. You let go of Spencer’s hand right before he entered the bullpen.

“See you on the other side,” you winked before sneaking off to the other entrance of the round table room.

You heard Spencer ask if everyone could join him in the conference room for a special announcement.

“What’s all this about, Kid?” Derek asked.

“I have been dating someone for just over 7 months now and she is amazing, beautiful, smart, kind, and I love her so so much. We found out about two months ago that she is pregnant. We actually just got back from the final ultrasound of the first trimester,” Spencer announced.

The team was speechless for about a minute.

“Congratulations,” Hotch finally spoke for everyone.

“WHO IS IT?” Penelope asked.

“She’s actually right out here. I have a feeling you’ll like her,” Spencer smiled.

You stripped off your jacket so your belly bump was on full display as you entered the room.

“Hi guys,” you waved as Spencer wrapped his arms around you from behind and planted a kiss on the top of your head.

The team erupted into gasps and cheers.

“You…and her???” Derek couldn’t seem to process this new information, “How did a group of profilers miss this?”

“Because my boyfriend is a genius,” you grinned up at him, giving him a quick peck on the cheek.

“No, my girlfriend is way smarter. She scheduled all of the ultrasounds and how to get the time off,” Spencer smiled down at you.

“Okay, we’re both geniuses so the baby will be a genius too,” you concluded.

Spencer bent down to give your belly a kiss as the team ‘aww’ed.

taglist (just ask to be added or removed!): @samuel-de-champagne-problems @g0lden-cth @spencerreid9 @averyhotchner @coldlilheart @k-k0129 @ickleronniekinsemotionalrange @harrystylesandthegoobs @cmily @jswessie187 @rem-ariiana @hoodpankow @mochionly

[attllhak]

Adoption AU - Lullaby Reacts to Time’s Batman Level Adoption Bullshit

@tortilla-of-courage I offer you mercy. Also no one mentioned wanting to be tagged on the last story on this series so it’s just you for right now I guess.

Also, this fic is called ‘Aunt Lullaby/Uncle Sheik On Time’s Sudden Acquisition Of Kids’ in my docs, but I’ve been using the ‘Batman-Level Adoption Bullshit’ for so long that this is the title now.

Also! Some of the boys have some heavy topics to their backstories (Wars comes to mind as an example), so let me know if I need to tag this with certain warnings or stuff. Nothing is actually shown, but I figured I’d just put that out there.

-----------------

Lullaby, who was still just Zelda then, had been very excited when Time, then just Link, had called her to tell her that Malon was pregnant.

She had gotten the call first, as Link had found it important that she knew before anyone else. After everything else in his life, he said, he wanted the person who he knew would always be there for him to know first, and that he was going to be making a few other calls later that day.

Link had never had an easy life. When his father died when he was 10, he’d ended up devastated. Zelda and her Aunt Impa had found him hiding in an alley a few days after, once he’d run away from the social workers. His sister Navi had been with him, and the two were sorting through the very few bits of snack food they’d had. Link’s father had been a foster parent for a lot of strays, orphans, or abused kids needing another place to stay. Link had fallen into the orphan category, and so the social workers had planned to cycle him back into the system. He’d lost contact with his sister Saria, whom he still hadn’t found out how to make contact with again, and so all he had was Navi. Impa had taken them both in on the spot, much to the annoyance of Zelda’s father initially, but the two grew on him. Navi went missing when Link and Zelda had been 17, after an issue with a man who really had wanted to see them both dead. Link hadn’t given up hope yet, but with every passing year it looked worse and worse for her to be okay.

Zelda had known Malon from day one, and had loved Link’s wife and was so happy to see him find that bit of happiness. The one thing she knew he wanted more than anything else was to have a solid, stable family of his own.

The pregnancy was a wonderful bit of news, and she couldn’t be happier for her brother.

She had spent some time over at their house, her then-girlfriend Ruto coming as well, helping Malon with some of the housework and such since she wasn’t supposed to be doing too much of the ranch work while pregnant.

She had arrived at the hospital less than thirty minutes after she got the call that Malon was in labor, and spent the time pacing in the hall, then supporting Link when he got kicked out after panicking too much. Apparently Malon had enough of him.

She could relate.

After Link had his whole ‘we made a whole baby person’ moment where his brain short-circuited after he was handed his son, the next person who got to hold him was Zelda. A chubby baby, who slept almost the whole time. He had his mother’s nose, thank Hylia.

Zelda saw him open his eyes only once that day, and she could swear she saw in his cobalt-silver eyes that same spark in his father’s eye. Singular, since Link only had the one.

Zelda’s family had a long tradition of naming their kids after family members. Her name was her grandmother’s and her great-grandmother’s, so on so forth. Her father had been pressing to pick a family name the entire pregnancy. Her mother had kept telling him to back off a little. Fortunately, Malon’s family also had a set of passed down names, hers being one of them. So the idea of naming the child after family wasn’t a big deal for her, even if it was a different set of names.

However, there was one thing to take into account here, and that was Link’s family.

No one knew what the naming traditions in his family were, he didn’t even know his birth parent’s names. But that didn’t change the desire to find a way to work them in too.

There was only one name from Link’s family that anyone knew.

The baby was named Link.

Zelda’s father stopped complaining a week later. Her mother was very clear about it.

At Zelda and Ruto’s wedding seven years later, Link Jr. was the ring bearer.

Junior stopped being his nickname when he was thirteen.

(---)

Zelda got a call from Link Sr. about a day after it happened with a simple request.

“Who was in charge of the paperwork when your family adopted me?”

Zelda blinked once, then twice. “Come again?”

“The lawyer who arranged for my adoption, who was that?” Link asked again.

“Why?” Zelda asked, her wife leaning around the doorframe to give her a concerned look. Zelda shot her a thumbs up.

A heavy sigh came from the other end of the phone. “I think I’ve acquired another son,”

Zelda came over.

This new nephew of hers, apparently, was a sweet boy. A series of scars littered his entire left side, burn and explosive damage if she were to guess, and he had no idea how he got them. He had amnesia. The one thing he did know was his name.

His name was Link.

Zelda had to take a minute. She was trying very hard not to laugh. This was exactly the kind of luck her brother had.

“Zelda, stop mocking me, this wasn’t my call,” Link whined, though he’d never say it was a whine.

“Link, you have to see the humour here,” she gasped, waving at the two boys in the living room where Jr. was trying to show Scars how to use a lasso. This was Zelda’s idea, but she wasn’t taking responsibility for it.

Link just sighed heavily. “Link found him on the street. Malon looked into it and his parents died in a car crash a year ago, he has nowhere to go. We’ve agreed to let him stay, you understand that,”

Zelda nodded, sobering up some. “Yeah, I get that, kinda. The lawyer we hired was named Rauru, Mom should have his contact information still, you should call her,”

Link sighed, relieved. “Thank you,”

“Of course, just don’t make it a habit,”

(---)

The first inclination this would be a habit was a year later.

Wild, the younger of his sons, was in the same class as another boy named Link. This boy had lived with his uncle his whole life, and got the call his uncle died when at school. Sheik was about ready to punch someone for doing that to the boy, and just before christmas no less.

Wild brought him home, insisting he could stay at least for the holidays. The agreement wasn’t even a question, there was no way he was going to be forced to spend a holiday at an orphanage.

When Sheik and Ruto showed up on christmas day, not that their family cared much for christmas but they were all off anyways, the newest Link had been named Legend.

He was a little more shy than the others, understandably, and a little snappish.

Not a bad kid, just one grieving and in need of family. That was something their family had never hesitated to provide.

Sheik’s mother teaching him how to spin a butterfly knife was probably not the wisest decision, but considering Rottla heard a therapist say “Your kids are traumatized, they need to feel safe again,” and decided to sign them up for every martial arts she could, well, it should have been a sign that she wasn’t the best in that regard. Time, Link Sr., had made it very clear he felt Sheik took after her. Sheik had no idea what his brother was talking about.

Legend didn’t leave after that. One call to Rauru, and Legend was a permanent member of the family.

Sheik took great pride in being the favorite Uncle of Legend’s, after his late guardian of course. He pointedly ignored that he was the only Uncle, and only part-time.

Time could suck it.

(---)

Lullaby, since so many of her nephews’ friends were named Zelda apparently, received a call at five am.

True, she knew her brother and his wife woke up at sunrise to do yard work and such, but usually they were kind enough to let her sleep in.

Not so this morning.

“Wha?” She mumbled into the phone, trying, and failing, to not wake her wife.

“Zelda,” came Malon’s clipped tone through the receiver, “do you know about a missing person’s case for one Jerimiah Smith?”

Zelda blinked heavily, and had to convince herself not to go back to sleep. Who, why did Malon care? It was five am, the sun wasn’t even up yet.

“Why?” She asked to buy time, still working on a quarter of thought. Ruto rolled over and held her. Not helping, Ruto.

“I have a Link Smith in my barn claiming that his grandfather went missing, and he’s run away from a temporary foster home,” Malon explained, and okay that was worth waking up for.

Lullaby sat up, pushing Ruto’s arm from her waist to her lap, causing her wife to grumble, and turned on the lamp, rubbing sleep out of her eyes. “Okay, okay pause. Pause and back up,” she half-swallowed a yawn, squinting into her bedroom. “What is going on?”

“I got up to do some work, since Link is still asleep, and I came into the barn to find a boy asleep in the hay, here you are,” her voice dropped away from the receiver, likely talking to the boy in question, then came back. “So I found a boy in the hay, and I woke him up. He says his name is Link Smith, and he was living with his grandfather since his father was overseas in the military. His father wasn’t home enough to care for him, so his grandfather had sole custody after his mother died or something, there was a lot of tears at this part. Anyways, his grandfather went missing a week ago, and he’s been through three foster homes and none of them were very accepting of, he apparently has a ‘mental thing’ that he’s dealing with. I was wondering if you could confirm his story?”

Lullaby leaned over the bed, grumbling, and grabbed her laptop, Ruto giving up on getting her back to bed and sliding up the headboard with her to drape over her shoulders while she pulled up Firefox. “Hold on,” she told her sister in law, plugging the name into Google. Jeremiah Smith, went missing a week ago, blah blah blah, oh there we go.

Link Smith, grandson of Jerimiah Smith, left in limbo after his grandfather’s disappearance. Oh, that was interesting. According to this article, which most certainly was breaking some privacy laws and if Link Smith was staying it would be coming down, the boy had multiple personality disorder.

“Yeah, he’s telling the truth,” Lullaby said, switching the phone to her other ear so Ruto could nuzzle up better without bumping it. “Also, I found his weird ‘mental thing’. According to this article, which I’m pretty sure isn’t legal, he’s got dissociative identity disorder,”

“Isn’t that dangerous?” Ruto mumbled, still mostly asleep on her shoulder.

“No, not really. He’s actually more likely to be in danger than a danger,” she twisted to kiss her wife’s head, then went back to Malon. “He probably really needs someone who’ll be supportive enough through all this, both the disappearance and his condition. DID isn’t something easy to live with, I can see him having some issues with foster parents,” Lullaby had never been so glad that she got bored one day and decided to look it up after she heard people talk about it so negatively. You never know when information like that would be useful.

“He’s fine to take in?” Malon whispered after a moment. “I just, the other boys,”

“Will need to be patient, but unless one of his alters is particularly bad for dealing with threats, perceived or otherwise, in an unkind way then he’s fine and safe to be around. I’d ask him about that, but don’t force him to admit anything that can be bad for him, but I don’t see any more risk than taking in Wild or Legend,”

Malon sighed on the other end of the line. “Alright, I’ll bring him in and wake up Link, so he can call Rauru about all this while I sit with him and try and get him to relax,”

“Wonderful, I’ll call the office and see about what I can do about this article then. And for the record, if you ever call me at asscrack of dawn o’clock in the morning again, then next time we meet I’m clocking you,”

Malon had the nerve to laugh.

Four, as he’d been nicknamed by the time Lullaby and Ruto showed up to meet him, was a fascinating person. Green, the host of his system, was a brave, if occasionally airheaded, boy who wanted to try everything, and had been fascinated by his grandfather’s old-timey forge. Time had plans to make one in the yard for him. Red, the emotional and spiritual protector of the system, was empathetic and sweet and compassionate. No one had a bad word to say about Red. Vio, short for Violet, was the gatekeeper for the system and kept the four of them working on the same page. Bright and clever boy, his nose stuck in a book most of the time and willing to offer up the most random and yet useful information. Blue, the physical protector, was a little gruff and definitely someone you just got used to, but he cared deeply about his ‘brothers’ as they called each other, and the external brothers he acquired grew on him quickly enough too. It was a bit of a fight to get custody of him, but Rauru was the best there was, so it was only a week or two before the paperwork was going through for him.

Lullaby had a feeling this wasn’t the end by a long shot, and prayed that Hylia would be merciful about granting Time’s wish for a family.

She was going a little overboard.

(---)

Sheik wasn’t surprised in the least at the newest addition when he walked in the one day. No, mostly he was just confused as to why he hadn’t gotten a phone call before he got there.

Usually there was a phone call.

He was very upset by the way the boy looked, however.

This new addition, Warriors as he’d learn later that Time acquired yet another Link, was curled up in the corner of the couch with his scarf wrapped around him like a blanket, clearly trying not to be seen. Voices floated out of the kitchen, and Sheik picked up that Twilight brought him home, and was lobbying for a new brother.

Ah, that’s why there was no phone call.

Ruto went to investigate the conversation, so Sheik decided to introduce himself to his newest nephew.

Upon closer inspection, the boy looked about Twilight’s age, and had a bruise on his temple, maybe a day or two old now. Looking closer saw a few more on the left side of the boy’s face. Someone hit him, with purpose.

Sheik sat down next to him and said nothing, waiting for him to make the first move. Eventually, he poked his head out of his scarf.

“Hello,” Sheik offered once it became clear he wouldn’t be saying anything.

“Hullo,” he mumbled into the fabric, glancing away and back at his feet.

“My name is Sheik,” Sheik offered lightly. “Time is my brother,”

The boy looked up, eying him. “Twilight is your nephew?”

“Yes, he is,” Sheik nodded, smiling at him. “You’re a friend of his?”

The boy shrugged. “Kinda,” a beat of silence passed, then he shifted around. “He said I’d be safe here,”

“You will be,” Sheik agreed, trying to be comforting. “I can assure you of that,”

He hummed and snuggled back into his scarf.

“May I, if this isn’t overstepping, can I ask why you need somewhere to be safe?” Sheik asked after a moment.

He tensed up, eyes darting to him and at the doorway, and then back, wide eyes a little panicked.

Sheik was just about to apologize when the boy spoke.

“I ran away from home,” he admitted, looking away. “My uh, my parents aren’t, great people. I can’t go back, so I need somewhere else to go. Twi said I could be safe here, that his parents would fight for me,”

“They will,” Sheik said with enough conviction it almost startled him. “I know my brother, and he can’t turn away from someone in need, and his wife is the most strong willed woman I’ve ever met. You won’t find another pair of people more willing to go to war for you than them.”

He blinked at Sheik, then nodded, relaxing a little. “And, if my parents come for me?”

Sheik grinned. “My family is very rich, and we have a small army of very good lawyers. You won’t be going back there, I assure you,”

He smiled, and leaned over towards Sheik a little. “I’m Link,”

Of course you are, Sheik thought. He held out an arm for ‘Link’ to lean into, not getting attached to the name since it would be changing. The boy leaned into his side easily, deflating against him with a sigh. He looked so tired.

“Link,” Sheik asked carefully, watching his words. “Can I ask about the bruises on your face?”

The boy blinked up at him, biting his lip.

“They uh, my dad did that,” he admitted in a small voice, curling into Sheik’s side, and the sheikah pulled him in close to his side, hoping to provide the comfort Link was seeking. “Right before I left. I packed up and went through the window. My twin sister is still there, and I’m a little worried about her, but I can’t go back again. I, he,” he paused, sucking in a breath. Sheik rubbed his arm and side, trying to help him calm down, ignoring the tears on his shirt.

“I thought he was going to kill me,” Link finally admitted in a small, scared voice.

Sheik knew he never had very many parental instincts, and he and Ruto agreed no kids before they even got engaged, but for the first time ever Sheik felt that flare that Time and Malon described everytime something threatened their kids. It was then and there Sheik decided this boy would be part of their family, whether Time was the one who took him in or not. No kid should have to say that and mean it. No kid should be scared their parent was going to kill them.

Oh, the lawyers Sheik was planning on bringing down on whoever these assholes were would be many.

Time took the boy in, as Sheik predicted (thankfully), and sure enough the immediate support was immense. His parents never even put out a missing persons report. Sheik added child negligence to his list of growing charges to lay out.

Two months after Warriors moved in, he got a call from his sister. She got out and was safe now, and wanted to be sure he was as well. This made him very relieved. They met up once or twice, and seemed to be getting back to normal.

Two weeks later, Legend and Wild got suspended distracting Warriors’ parents so Twilight could sneak him out the back of the school. Four didn’t get suspended, but only because when Vio messed with the security cameras to cover up the escape he didn’t get caught. Time took all three out for ice-cream and junk food when he picked them up.

Lullaby saw an opportunity and took it without hesitation. Lawyers were called and organized, and without much wait there was an order for both of them to appear in court on child abuse and negligence charges. The kidnapping charge laid against them in retaliation was almost laughable.

A few weeks later, Time and Malon had full custody of Warriors pending a proper criminal trial for full punishment of his parents, at which time Linkle, Warriors’ twin sister, planned to testify as well. If they couldn’t get things settled before Warriors turned 18, then they planned to push through an adult adoption the day he did. A birthday present, Time had said. Lullaby laughed.

(---)

Sky was probably the most skittish of Time’s sons.

Lullaby wasn’t sure entirely why he was so skittish, but he was. He reminded her of a bird, or a rodent, or a cat who really, really didn’t want to interact with new people.

She had been briefed before she visited on Sky’s background. His social worker had been having trouble setting him up with a home where he’d stay for longer than a week or so, and in a last ditch effort had asked Time and Malon, with their long track record of housing troubled and unhousable youths, if they could take one more. They agreed.

Sky apparently had a friend, a bit of a troublemaker if Lullaby guessed correctly, who had gotten the two arrested. Time mentioned the event had Sky concerned about being ‘too much trouble’ and that ‘they’d get rid of him too’ or something. Time said this was ridiculous, as Sky caused him the least amount of trouble, but the boy was concerned about being thrown away again. He apparently had a few self-worth issues.

Lullaby found him on the back porch talking to the birds. Not in any human language, mind you, and Lullaby spoke many, but cooing and chirping back at them. He seemed very happy and at ease like that, singing at the birds.

“Do you mind if I join you?” She asked in a whisper during a pause in the conversation.

Sky jumped, eyes wide, and he squirmed a little when he saw her. “Uh, sure, I guess,”

She sat on the other end of the bench next to him, and calmly went back to watching the birds, and him interacting with them. He seemed much more at ease here than he did with people.

“Did you need something?” He asked, after a while, letting a blue jay grab a peanut from his hand.

“Not specifically,” she shook her head. “I had wanted to meet you, but nothing else,”

He blinked at her a little dumbly.

“Why would you want to meet me?” He asked.

“What do you mean?” She asked back, not sure what he was trying to say.

“Well, I mean, I’m not exactly special. And, it’s not like I’m staying,”

“I think you’re pretty special, most people can’t get birds to land on their hands like that,” Lullaby said gently, not liking how he spoke about himself. “And why would you think you aren’t staying?”

“I never stay,” he admitted, turning his eyes back to the birds, frowning. “No one ever considers me worth the effort,”

“You are very much worth the effort,” Lullaby countered, trying her best to keep her face soft instead of pinching up. “Trust me, however much effort you are, it is nowhere near the level of your brothers. Time wouldn’t have taken you in if he didn’t want you,”

“He’s just doing Impa a favour,” he said glumly, offering up more birdseed to the birds. “I won’t be staying forever,”

“I’m sure my brother has explained why that’s bullshit,” Lullaby said bluntly.

“But, I got arrested,” he mumbled.

“So have three of your brothers,” Lullaby pointed out. “Regularly. For much worse things. I promise you, that is not an issue,”

“But,”

“If you are going to say something bad about yourself again then I’m telling you right now I’m not going to listen to it,” Lullaby cut him off. “Time has told me a lot about you, and all of it is how much he loves you,”

“Really?” Sky looked up at her.

“You cause him the least amount of headaches of all his sons,” Lullaby smiled. “He adores you,”

Sky turned away, clearly trying to think that over.

“How about you tell me more about the things you enjoy doing,” Lullaby suggested.

“Huh?” Sky asked, turning back to her.

“I’d like to get to know more about what makes my nephew happy,” she smiled.

“Why?”

“Well, I’d be a bad aunt if I didn’t, especially since you’ll be sticking around,”

Sky looked like he didn’t believe her, but told her about his woodcarving anyways.

Lullaby was happy that as time went on Sky became less skittish and self-deprecating. He was a sweet kid, and as he got more comfortable and confident more of his true colours started showing through.

She felt a bit bad for Time, though. Apparently he was as prone to chaos as his brothers, he was just more subtle about it.

Time brought it on himself though. He should have known this when he adopted six boys.

(---)

The call about the next son had Lullaby’s head hitting her kitchen table, groaning loudly even when Ruto came to check on her.

Wild found a boy in the woods and they’d decided to keep him.

This was getting to be just a bit too much.

When Sheik and Ruto got to meet the boy, they were a bit taken aback. They had expected another Wild.

What they got was a quiet boy who mostly kept to himself. He was a bit shy, but he seemed to open up a bit more around Wild and, amusingly, Legend. He was a bit jumpy, but considering they had no idea how long he was in the woods that was expected.

What was surprising them most was that he did actually have a mother, who loved him very much, but who was very sick and so wasn’t able to actually take care of him, thus the wandering in the woods. His mother had been very worried, but physically unable to look. She had asked family to check but they gave up pretty quickly.

In light of her family being horrible for taking care of her son, and not knowing if she’d survive her illness, she asked Malon and Time if they could take care of her son for her since she clearly couldn’t trust her relatives and the boy’s father had abandoned them the moment she decided to keep him.

Time and Malon had taken one look at the boy and their sons, and agreed. They worked out an arrangement to keep the boy’s mother in the loop, and then they called Rauru. After which Time called his sibling.

This boy’s name was also Link. Sheik did not feel bad about laughing. Really, his brother had the weirdest luck.

They, for some reason, decided his nickname would be Hyrule. Why they decided to name him after the country, Sheik didn’t know. Apparently it was the only nickname he liked.

He had trouble reading, but he liked learning, especially if he could use what he learned to help people.

He fit right in, which made Sheik wonder exactly when his brother was going to stop adopting. He hoped it was before the ranch house ran out of room.

(---)

Eight. He stopped at eight.

Which was still too many, in Sheik’s opinion, but whatever.

The newest hellraiser at least didn’t come from the streets like almost all of the others.

This Link (because yes, his name was Link too) had recently lost his parents and his grandmother couldn’t financially support both him and his sister. So Time and Malon agreed to take care of him for her. The rest of their sons all acquired a grandma as well, it seemed.

They nicknamed him Wind, and he immediately latched onto his older brothers and started giving his new parents headaches.

When Lullaby and Ruto showed up next, she felt no sympathy for her brother. He brought this on himself.

She was more than a little pissed off when the brat stole her wallet though. Damn thief.

Time assured her that they’d talk to him about it. Lullaby wasn’t sure that’d help.

But, she reasoned, despite the chaos, Time was happy. Practically giddy. He lit up whenever he spoke about his sons, and he clearly loved them dearly.

Hylia had granted his wish for a family. She maybe went a bit overboard, but as long as Time was happy, so was Lullaby.

(---)

She wasn’t commenting on the ninth kid. She refused.

At least his name wasn’t ‘Link’.

[nebulousnajm]

whose child is this? - levihan crackfic

Levi heads to his room to grab a document from his desk, but all thoughts of bureaucracy and paperwork fly out of the window as he finds a baby sitting and blabbering to itself on his bed. The baby looks up at him in the doorway and exclaims ��papa!” upon seeing him.

He frowns. Very few of the survey corps have children, and so he’s familiar with how those look like. This brunette child is not one of them, “whose brat are you?” he asks, as if it is capable of answering him.

Did a governor or someone from the inner walls visit? It’s probably someone’s child that wandered off. He sighs, closes the door, and goes to ask the guards stationed at the headquarter doors about any recent visitors. The answer is “no sir, only the supply carts have come today,” he nods in thanks and deliberates on what to do.

On his way back to his room, Levi passes by Hange’s lab. He can hear them sorting through their books, probably looking for some obscure fact to back up a working theory. He knows that Hange is friendly and on talking terms with all of the staff, so they may recognize the tiny intruder.

(continued after the cut)

He knocks –to announce his presence– and enters the room. He finds Hange scanning a book with one hand and jotting down notes every other second with the other, all the while muttering to themselves. For a split second there’s something comforting about the sight; about seeing them be at some level of peace doing something they love. But he pushes the thought away into the forbidden corner in his mind where all similarly sentimental thoughts go.

“Hey four-eyes,”

Hange looks up, “hm? oh hey Levi! i didn’t hear you coming in”

“I’m not surprised. Anyways, did one of the supply staff have a brat recently?”

They look thoughtful, “..no i don’t think so. Why do you ask?”

It’s an expected question; he’s never expressed an interest in the detailed lives of the staff, but given his current predicament, he’s sort of forced to know more.

Levi also realizes that there’s no way to explain the situation in a way that will make sense, but then again, Hange has never needed things to make sense to take them seriously.

“There’s a... baby in my room, and i don’t know whose it is,” he looks away and doesn’t mention that said baby thought he was it’s father.

“What?!”

“I don’t know! Why do you think i’m asking you?”

He must look visibly flustered because Hange laughs and puts down their book, “alright, maybe if i see this mysterious baby i’ll recognize it,” they get up and –presumably– head to his room. He spares a glance at the lab before he follows; it’ll need a dusting soon.

Once he catches up to them, they ask, “what does it look like?”

“Brown hair and grey eyes, you’ll see for yourself,”

“Grey eyes huh? I don’t think I know of anyone who has a grey-eyed baby,”

Levi wearily hopes that Hange unlocks that memory once they see it; this whole situation is starting to take a lot longer than he’d like it to.

They reach his room and find the baby looking around in wonder at its surroundings. It’s quiet. He remembers that this is unusual for babies but doesn’t know what to do with that piece of information.

Hange giggles as they approach the tiny creature on the bed, “who are you, you little cutie?”

The baby raises its arms and says “mama!”

Hange complies with the request and lets it wrap its small arms around their neck and rest it’s head on their shoulder.

“I’m not your mother though,” a small pause as they notice something on the baby, “aww you have a book with you?”

It does? Levi hadn’t seen if it had something in its hands, but going off of the small yellow cardboard square it’s holding, it apparently does. He plucks the item from its hands, and reads the title out loud, “The Bumblebee and The Tulip”. The script on the cover is legible but strange.

Hange smiles, “it’s been ages since i’ve seen a children’s book, I’ve only ever found them in Sina,” they glance back at the baby, “so you’re a rich kid, huh?”

“Doesn’t look like one though. No fancy hair clips or jacket. Not even expensive shoes,”

They hum thoughtfully, “true. What a strange little specimen,” they take a look at the baby’s clothes, “speaking of strange, these clothes are weird too. Simpler yet somehow more complicated than usual,”

Well. This isn’t going great, “I don’t think there’s anything “usual” left in this situation,”

The baby, which has been sitting contentedly in Hange’s arms this entire time, now reaches towards him and says, “papa,”

He narrows his eyes at it, “why does it think we’re it’s parents? And can it only say those two words?”

Hange laughs a little, “I don’t know, but babies can only say so much. Do you know how to hold one?”

The answer must be on his face because they just continue, “you basically have them sit on your arm, and you support their neck or back with a hand as well, here try it,” and they offer the baby to him.

“I think i’ll drop it if I try to carry it,”

“You won’t, this one’s quite light so you’ll be able to handle it,”

Levi shoots them an unimpressed look but hold out his arms anyway. Hange hands the small thing over to him and arranges his arms so that they look like how Hange’s did. He’s still a little worried that he’ll accidentally hurt the child even as it just sits there and stares at him with strangely familiar grey eyes.

Hange tilts their head to the side and smiles, “you look kind of adorable together,”

He glares at them with no real heat, “no we don’t”

“It’s true! You know what? Actually..” but they trail off.

That’s weird. Hange never keeps an observation to themselves, “what is it?”

They look kind of sheepish, “okay, well, it’s ridiculous, but the baby does look a little like both of us,”

“What,”

“I know it’s impossible, but it has your eyes and it’s nose looks like what mine did when i was that age,”

Levi looks back at the baby and a weird feeling blooms in his chest. Hange’s observation explains why the eyes were familiar; he’s seen them everyday in the mirror. He also notes that even the baby’s hair is of a very similar shade to Hange’s, but that doesn’t mean anything; brown hair is very common.

“Right, well. This brat might look like us but that doesn’t mean shit. It’s not our child and we don’t know whose it actually is,”

Hange sighs, “I’m sure we’ll find it’s parents once we ask around, but it is confusing. You said you just found it on your bed?”

“Yeah,”

“No disturbance around it? Any footprints or signs that the window was open or anything?”

“I wasn’t really focusing on that when I found it,” but he does take stock of his room now and notes that nothing seems out of place; as if the child simply manifested into existence.

Just as they’re contemplating on who to ask, they hear voices. But not from the hallway.

The sound of two voices in conversation came from the wall to the left, the one that has no door or window and just connects to more stone. Yet it sounds like someone is coming from there as if through a hallway.

Levi and Hange glance at each other, “Levi do you have a secret corridor attached to your room?”

“No. why would I-“ but he stops short as the voices become clearer.

Because if this entire thing wasn’t weird as fuck already, it’s their voices that are coming closer, and he starts to be able to pick out the conversation:

“Four-eyes i swear to god if our child is in the universe of the cannibal-murder-giants,” that’s his voice. What the fuck. To make matters worse, the baby he’s holding turns towards the voice with excitement.

Someone, no, Hange laughs. That’s their laugh, but Hange is standing right next to him staring wide-eyed at the wall.

“There’s nothing to worry about! the drop range I set for here is limited to only the building where our parallels work at, so Kora should be safe. what I’m really hoping for is to find her alon-“

Two people materialize as they step out of the wall, and freeze upon seeing them.

Two people, may he add, that look and sound exactly like them.

A very thick silence suffocates the air, and it’s only broken when the baby squirms in his hold, reaches out towards the other two and says “mama! papa!”

The other Hange awkwardly waves at the child while the other Levi simply says “shit,”

Other-Hange tries to smile, “uh hi. can we have our child back, please?”

“your child?” the real Hange chokes out.

“Yes, she accidentally wandered here while we weren’t paying attention,” other-Hange replies as if answering a normal inquiry about the weather.

This other-Hange approaches him with their arms out to receive the child and he instinctively steps back. The other-Levi laughs, “we’re not gonna bite,”

His own hold on the baby isn’t going to last while she’s trying to jump into her mother’s arms, so he tentatively hands her and her book over lest he drops both.

He notes that other-Hange wears a wedding ring, and when he glances over to his apparent twin, he’s wearing a matching one too. Great.

“You just caused a huge mess, you know that Kora?” the other-Hange tells the baby with a fond smile.

Kora simply laughs in response.

Levi’s fairly sure that his brain short-circuited, because he asks “who are you?”

“Damn I didn’t think I would be this stupid” other-Levi says.

other-Hange laughs a little, “hey be nice! you weren’t the brightest bulb when you learned of this either,”

“Yeah whatever, we gotta head back anyway before we break this universe,”

“Right. Well, it was interesting meeting you two. Try to convince yourselves that this was some weird fever or lucid dream, things will go smoother that way,”

And with that, both Others turn back to phase through the stone wall they came from. Kora waves at them both as she disappears without a trace, just like how she appeared in the first place.

It might have been minutes or hours that Levi and Hange just stood there gaping at the wall, but eventually he says “what the fuck?”

“I have so many questions. I’m going to be thinking about this for the rest of my life,” Hange says as they sink down to sit on the floor.

Levi joins them and thinks that maybe one of the new recruits snuck something into the tea.

–––––––––––––

thanks for reading! 

this fic can also be found on ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/31065770

please don’t repost or upload on another site :)

[urlocalkpoptrash]

Bet| Jaebeom.

Switch!Jaebeom x Reader.

Genre: SMUT.

Warnings: Dirty talk, masturbation (both male and female) a hint exhibitionism, EXTREME EDGING, orgasm denial, switch/sub Jaebeom, cream pie, unprotected sex.

Summary: When you and Jae make a bet, he has to deal with the consequences.

A/N: First of all, this was edited by my twinnie @listlessmaenads. This has been in my head for literally days since me and her talked about. It’s finally out. 🤘🏻 — —

JYP laughed loudly, causing the rest of the table to react in the same fashion. Jaebeom gritted his teeth, choking back an agonizing groan. He tried to shift in his seat, hoping this action would ease the tension that strained in his pants. He couldn’t believe he was in this situation - all because of a stupid bet.

You jumped around jaebeom, singing a song of selfish victory. “I won, you lose, la la la la.” He watched as you rounded his body for the third time. His arms were crossed, a tight lipped pout pursing his lips. He was certain he was going to beat you, and now his ego and his eyes were on the floor.

“I told you not to make a bet with me,” you touched his arm, fingers wrapping around his bicep.

“When does it start?” A rumbled response rattled out of his chest.

You were silent for a moment, deciding whether or not to make him truly suffer. It didn’t take long for you to make the choice, “Now.”

His jaw tightened, flexing the vein in his neck. “What are the specific rules?” He glanced over at you, your too smug smile made him hate this all that much more.

“You can’t touch me, no matter what I do. You can’t grab my wrist, stop my hands, lips, legs - nothing. You also can’t touch yourself, or else this starts all over again.”

“Can I touch you... affectionately?” His voice immediately softened.

If there was one thing that Jae hated to be deprived of, that was you. It was the absentminded kisses at the top of your head, the gentle squeeze of his hand, just to remind himself that you were there. Deprive him of you, was like depriving the world from the sun.

“No.”

Ice cold, calculated. This was a meticulous plan, it had to be his absolute, the undoing of Lim Jaebeom and you were going to be the cause of that.

You started off slowly, easing him into the ultimate torture. It started with text insinuating of your desires, most the time he’d brush them off and change the subject. He wasn’t going to allow you to crack him so easily. He spent years with just him and his hand, it was going to take more than some saucy texts to rile him up. Which meant that you had the step up your game, his unwillingness to let you under his skin only pushed you further into your carnal state of mind.

Punk

3:30PM

What time are you going to be home, Squish?

Squishy

3:33PM

It’s going to be a late night, baby. I’m so sorry.

Squishy

4:01PM

Babe?

Squishy

4:20PM

Are you mad at me baby?

Punk

4:32PM

I’m sorry it took me so long to reply. I got a little preoccupied.

Squishy

4:33PM

It’s alright, beautiful. Is everything okay?

Punk

4:35PM

Absolutely, babe. I just... it’s nothing.

Squishy

4:35PM

What is it baby? You can always talk to me.

Squishy

4:36PM

Sweetie?

And just like clock work your phone began to ring. You had already started, and you wanted him to catch you right in the middle.

“Jae,” an airy moan, brushing your tongue across the roof of your mouth - you were coming for blood.

You swore you could hear him hard swallow, “Hey baby. Is everything okay? Are you okay?” He was barely able to force words between pursed lips.

“I-I know you’re, ah,” you couldn’t help yourself, setting the volume a dial higher, you had to push yourself to make him bend to your sexual whims.

“Y/N,” this time it wasn’t soft, it wasn’t weak. It was the way he spoke to you when you were trying to escape the overwhelming pleasure he was able to rock through you.

“Please tell me you’re alone,” your fingers halted their manic search for pleasure against your bundle of nerves. You wanted to be absolutely certain he was away from the boys.

“I snuck into the bathroom to call you,” and once he pointed that out, you could hear his voice echo off the tiles of the prison you were about to capture him in.

“Good,” You panted, beginning to double your efforts, “I was just thinking about the other night in the kitchen,” you knew you could have left it at that, he was already painting the lucid picture in his mind. That wouldn’t be any fun though.

“Do you remember, Jae?” As if he could have forgotten, there was still take out in his hair, no matter how much he tried to get it out, a constant reminder of just the moment you were talking about.

“Yes,” clipped, short and best of all, tormented.

You could hear the sound of a stall being closed, he was settling in for the ride that you were about to subject him to, maybe he was a bit of a masochist himself. He knew well of your intentions and decided to strap himself in.

“I don’t remember the last time I came so hard. You were so... animalistic,” the best word for the way he treated your body.

“I couldn’t help it,” he sighed, head falling forward, as he instinctively curled his toes in his shoes.

“Why not?” The pretty green vibrator pulsed violently between your quivering walls.

“God baby,” he couldn’t even begin to verbalize what you did to him, the way your body called to him like a lighthouse called to a lost sailor.

“Tell me baby, I need it,” you weren’t too proud to beg for him.

“You just look so good underneath me. The way I disappear in you, soaking into your core. The way you say my name, say my name, fuck please.” He reached over to the rail beside him, gripping so tightly his knuckles appeared white.

“Jaebeom,” you cried, pulsing the purring toy quicker, your heels digging into the bed, struggling to restrain yourself anymore.

“Louder,” he demanded, his feet planting firmly on the floor. This was going to be the downfall of him. He was throbbing wildly, he couldn’t actually think of a time that he had been this hard. The outline of his dick looked like a 3D painting coming to life, pressing angrily against his black jeans.

“Jaebeom!” It didn’t even sound like your voice, you didn’t know who this was, but she was rubbing the nub between your slit, vibrator jerking in and out of you. The fire in your stomach was the last warning, “I’m cumming! Yes, Jae!”

Every muscle in his body contracted, it felt like the pain of ten thousand needles poking at his skin, but he couldn’t think anything other than the delicious sound that ripped through the heavy air, leaving a tear in his resolute.

You two were now on day three of this hell, and he was fully feeling the effects of it. He hadn’t had a moment of being completely soft in the 72 hours.

So here you are, at a rather large work function for Jae. All the members, plus staff filled the table. The perfect time to see just how desperate he was willing to be.

“So Jaebeom,” JYP spoke loud enough to command all the eyes in the room, “How’s writing going? Any new songs in the upcoming weeks?”

The chairs beneath everyone creaked as they shifted to focus their attention on him. You could see the perspiration started to build around his hairline. JYP raised a brow, waiting for an answer, one that he had responded to many times, but this was a much different situation.

“He’s just trying to recall where he is in his mixing,” you spoke up for him, your fingers lackadaisically traveled along the seam of his pants. You were in no hurry to send him into a erotic frenzy, you wanted this to burn slow, turning his unyielding discipline into nothing but ash.

He nodded, frantically, smoothing his clammy palm over his pants, making sure not to even brush so much as a nail over your skin. “I-uh, I’m really close-“ you watched as his brain short circuited from the way your fingers grazed over the head of his erection. It was almost as if this head controlled the one on his shoulders. You spread your fingers over his denim covered shaft, “I’m so fucking close,” he gripped the edge of the table, his fork vibrating on his plate from the sheer force of his grip.

“So close to getting it finished,” you leaned over to press a kiss onto his heated cheek, your lips barely moving as you whispered into his ear.

“You need to stay focused, babe, or I’m going to have to stop.”

“No,” he whispered back, loudly.

He couldn’t handle another hour of being without your touch, even if it meant he had to endure this divine misery. You settled back into your seat, reaching for your wine. You knew people were staring at his unusual outburst, but what you did under this table was no concern to anyone but you and the man you had under your spell.

“I probably have two more weeks, and I will be finished with track one and five,” he explained, giving enough of a show to satisfy the prying eyes that were glued to him.

“Wonderful. You’ll have to play me what you have a little later,” JYP grinned, glancing at the kitchen doors as the serves came out with dinner.

Jae almost visibly relaxed when everyone turned their regards to the food that was being passed out. He smiled kindly at the waiter as they placed his food in front of him. He would gladly accept this form of distraction from the grueling storm that was raging in his boxers briefs.

He had started to be less sensitive to your touch through out dinner, it didn’t make it any easier, but it was the sliver of hope he needed, that he could make it through this meal without exploding under the very expensive mahogany table.

You knew he was becoming acclimated with your touch, the effects just weren’t as strong as they were in the beginning of the night, which meant you had to step it up. He was halfway done with dinner, letting his distraction melt away on the tip of his tongue. Your nimble fingers found the golden key that unlocked his ultimate destruction - with a quick and swift pull, his zipper sat at the bottom of his pants flap. He inhaled so sharply that a piece of food got caught in his throat, forcing him to cough into his napkin.

“Are you okay, hyung?” Youngjae leaned over from his spot at the table, a sweet frown tugging his lips down.

“Yeah, I’m okay,” his smile wavering but only for a moment.

Your hand snuck between the teeth of his zipper, the soft cotton fabric of his boxer briefs tickled your finger tips. It wasn’t a hard find, Jae could have shattered diamonds with the rock he was sporting. His eyes immediately grew two sizes when your delicate fingers had broken into the only barrier that was keeping him safe.

His eyes started to roll back into this head, the band of his lashes fluttered when you wrapped your digits around the thickest part of his cock. You gave him a gentle squeeze, a kind reminder that he was in public and he needed to remain focused. His only response was an anguished whimper that was only meant for your ears.

At no point did you ever think how this would affect you. You never once imagined what a world would feel like without his touch, something you adorned, and found, that you needed to keep on with your daily life. For three days you had been watching his shaking fingers stretch in search of your skin, like an addict looking for this next hit, but quickly retreating back to his sides. You had watched his eyes darken and glaze over at the thought of his appendage submerging into the pool of your insatiable desire. You couldn’t even begin to explain the amount of times you had soaked your panties at the mere thought of him finally breaking - bending you over his production equipment, driving into you over and over till your toes couldn’t even touch the ground, his cock piercing into you, rooted into the depths of your womb.

You were so lost in your own affliction, that you hadn’t realized that your hand had picked up speed substantially. Jae looked entirely broken under your touch. His breathing was starting to become ragged, overly labored. You could see through his white buttoned down shirt, that his core was in a constant state of strain at this point. You turned your cheek to see that his eyes were closed, his face towards you. His lips parted, catching his tongue digging into his molars.

You leaned forward, pressing your forehead to his. The gentle touch in another place other than his swollen shaft made his eyes flit open. “Please,” a much weaker voice than you were expecting, “know when to show me a little mercy, beautiful.” You had never heard any tinge of begging in his vocal inflection before, but there was always a first for everything.

“Mercy,” you whispered, the word feeling foreign on your lips, especially in this context. You immediately loosened your hand, the small action made a huge difference in his demeanor. You got to watch as his nerves unraveled, the breath he was holding finally being able to be released, his back slouching in his seat.

He was unsure how long your kindness would extend. He was thankful for the moment of ‘mercy’ but he was soon regretting the request, because you were no longer in contact with the heat of his skin, and he’d much rather be in agony from your merciless exploration than feel the emptiness that came with losing your touch.

He cleared his throat, his eyes shifting towards your direction. It was a silent plea for another dose of his favorite kind of high. He was about to mutter something under his breath, but the sound of your phone going off stopped him mid breath.

Buzz, buzz, buzz.

The feeling of the vibration sent small shocks through the chair, reaching the heat of your weeping core. The slight stimulation elicited a strangled gasp from your parted lips. The sound almost made Jaebeom’s flip switch. It reminded him far too much of the sounds he got you to sing, a siren’s song to his darkest fantasies.

“Excuse me, I need to take this.” Your apology was sent over to JYP, who only gave you a kind smile and a nod.

You pushed away from the table, the black cloth that hung from the edge dragged across your thigh - the sensation flooding your head with memories of Jae’s shirt moving between your legs when his shoulders forced your thighs to stay spread, his tongue a trained soldier, entering your battlefield.

You hurried away from the scene, afraid you may do or say something that would feel good in the moment, but would be nothing but problems later. You stayed in the hallway, leaning against the wall so you could watch Jae.

Your office had called. They were stating it was an emergency and you needed to come back immediately. You were uninterested in the voice on the other end, but far too captured in the man that clouded your mind. You noted the way his jaw would become exposed when he tilted his head, laughing at something one of his members said. His neck caught the dim fluorescent light above the table, an appetizing view.

“Yeah, Yeah. I’ll be there,” not bothering to let them finish, forcing your phone back into your purse.

Your feet carried you across the room, your hands resting against jaes shoulders, gliding down to his chest. As you pressed your hand over his heart, you could practically feel it trying to escape from his skin.

“I’ve got to head to work. It shouldn’t be long,” you leaned down, your nose skimming his neck before you placed a light kiss to his cheek, “I have an Uber waiting for me, take the car.”

He hoped that by quickly agreeing with you, you’d let him go and he could finally take a breath, but instead of showing that kindness from earlier, you whispered, “Don’t you dare touch yourself,” your teeth scraping against the tender part of his ear lobe.

If it were any other situation, you would have been in the bathroom. His hands ravenous for a touch, gripping at the fabric of your dress, forcing it over your hips. You would have your back to the glass, legs wrapped tightly around his waist as he drove into you. You’d swore you weren’t religious, but if there was ever a moment that you believed in anything, it would be in that room, because nothing on this earth could feel so heavenly.

That thought itself almost had you ending the bet right then, begging him to take you home. You didn’t though, you stood your ground and walked out that door after giving your goodbyes. The cool air from the night time sky was just what you needed to calm yourself down.

You hadn’t intended on being two hours later, but work kept you busy. You didn’t even have a moment to check on Jae, but you knew he wouldn’t jeopardize this. He wouldn’t dare lay a finger on himself. Your keys jingled as you set them on the table near the front door. The house was quiet, not even the tv making a sound.

“Baby?” You called out, flexing your leg back so you could grab the heel from your shoe.

You heard the pitter-patter of his feet coming around the corner. You didn’t know what you were expecting, but it wasn’t Jae already stripped down to his underwear. You weren’t disappointed in the slightest, just a little taken back. You did a quick scan of his body, regarding the raging erection that was pressed perfectly against his boxer briefs, so much so that you could even see the outline of his veins through the cotton.

“H-hi,” he stumbled over his words. He was now just overwhelmingly aware that you two were alone, and this could finally be the day he got his overdue release.

“Hello baby,” you took your time to make your way over to where he was standing.

“You look so beautiful,” it was barely a mumble out of his mouth.

“I know,” you nodded, bringing your face up, finally being able to see how starved he was, “And yet, you didn’t even break once to touch me. So I must have not been beautiful enough.”

You caught his hands balling into fists, his nostrils flaring. “I haven’t been allowed too,” he choked out. It was taking everything in him not to rip that dress off of you, but if he was anything, it was a man of his word.

You reached out, placing your hands over his fists. It was instantaneous that his body relaxed at your sudden touch. “Are you ready?” He didn’t even want to ask, he just nodded. He was ready for whatever it was that you wanted to inflict on him.

His hand opened up when you grabbed at it, pulling him towards the living room. He followed behind you, hypnotized by the way your hair trickled down your back, how it swayed when you walked. He was about to crash into you when you stopped, but halted just inches from your body. He could smell your perfume, a deep breath leaving his nose.

Your toes lifted you higher as you turned in your spot. His eyes stared down at you, devouring away the fabric that was hiding your body. You already felt undressed with the way he was looking at you.

“Sit,” you demanded, your nails dragging down his skin as you pushed him down onto the couch. You weren’t a possessive girl, but seeing the red marks that came from your touch made you clench your thighs together.

You took a step away from him, slipping the straps of your dress off your shoulders. You heard the breath stop in Jaebeom’s throat. You continued the slow process of undressing yourself. His eyes glued to your every move until your dress pooled at your feet.

“You were wearing that set all night?” He nearly growled, the words hardly making it passed his clenched teeth.

You merely nodded. Jae had bought you a new set of lingerie to wear on your last anniversary, but you told him he’d have to wait for a special occasion.

“A special occasion, huh?” The heavy sarcasm coated his words.

“There’s nothing quite as special as watching you fall from your dominant pedestal,” you had to admit that the smile that played across your features was smug.

He reached to his sides, gripping the couch. You knew he was trying his hardest not to touch you, and you could also see he was cracking slowly under the pressure.

“Beom-ie,” You breathed, each of your legs swinging to either side of him, brushing his hair back, “What do you want?” Leaning in, your lips just slightly brushing over his when you spoke.

“Fuck,” he swallowed back the dry lump in his the back of his throat, “I-I, god, please,” He croaked, his hips stuttering upwards, his iron packed dick pressed into your lace covered core.

“Please, what baby? Talk to me.” Your hips swiveled over him. His eyes squeezed shut, much like when you’re trying to forget the pain of an intense injury, but this was a pain he knew would have an explosive outcome. “Touch me,” he whined quietly into the void of his anguish, “Anything, I just need to feel your hands on me. I am losing my fucking mind, Y/N. I have never tried more for anything in my life, than I have now. I’ve never felt like this before.” His eyes tore open, as his mouth fell agape, his breathing already starting to escalate.

You pushed yourself to your knees, reaching down to hook your fingers into his waistband. Your knuckles grazed below his naval, his happy trail scratching against your skin, inducing a shudder from him. He was so overly sensitive already, and you hadn’t even begun the game you had in mind. He grunted as he planted his feet firmly on the ground, straining his hips up, giving you what little help he could offer. You shimmied the last article of clothing away from him. His manhood springing to life, finally feeling the freedom he had been craving.

He exhaled loudly, the whites of his eyes tumbling back into his head. You couldn’t help but smile, seeing some relief cross his face. As much as you loved this, your favorite turn on was watching him get lost in his pleasure.

You slowly sank back down, wishing that you two were skin to skin, but you weren’t ready to give this up yet. You placed both your hands behind you, resting them on his knees. You lifted your hips just enough to give his erection some room between your legs. You finally began to rock your hips over his length, feeling his shaft split your slit, even through your underwear.

“You’re so wet,” he panted, looking down to watch the intimate dance of seduction your were performing on his lap, “Take them off, I need to be inside of you, please let me inside.” His hands reached out, gripping your sides. His eyes grew wide, ripping his fingers away from your skin. Your hips quickly came to a stop, “No, no, no! Fuck, baby! I didn’t mean to. Please, just please don’t stop.” He frantically put his hands behind his back, pressing his weight into them.

Your bottom lip found its way out as you slid from his lap. The look of pure desperation was the only emotion you could take into account. “You knew the rules, Jae.” You sighed, now having to deal with the repercussions of this bet.

“Since you don’t know how to keep your hands to yourself. We need to teach you how,” you backed into the living room table, sitting on the edge, “You can touch yourself,” you tilted your head to the side, expectantly.

“I won’t do it again, please. I just need you,” he untangled his hands from behind his back, one of his hands reaching for his cock despite his argument.

“Do it, baby.” You extended your leg, using your foot to pry open his legs, getting a much better view of swollen appendage.

His thumb swept over the raging pink head, using his precum that was leaking out as a form of lubrication. He started to stroke quickly, seeking his own liberation, but you were hasty in cutting that off. This wasn’t his way out, this was a punishment for breaking the rule. “Nice and slow,” you sunk to your knees, crawling across the floor to set your chin on his thigh, watching his fingers tightened around his shaft, working the throbbing nerve center with his own arousal.

“What are you thinking about?” You wondered out loud, eyes fixed on the motion in front of your face. “Fucking you,” a crude, but honest answer.

“What position?” You snaked one of your arms around his calf, licking your lips.

“From behind,” he was thrusting himself into his hand, mewling softly, “You’re always the loudest in that position,” he divulged without a prompt.

“Oh? And do you like the sounds I make?” You purred, lifting a perfectly arched brow.

“I love them, you sound so beautiful. There is nothing like the way you cry out my name when you’re close,” he threw his head back, his hand working in fast circular motions. You could see the muscles in his stomach contacting. Little puffs of airy moans came from his mouth.

You reached forward, cupping his balls. You realized just how full he had become. He howled in delightful agony. You brought your eyes to his face as he brought his head up. The chain from his necklace was captured between his teeth. His eyes had eclipsed, irises blown out, leaving almost no white in his eyes. His hand was back to rapid motions. He was close, and as much as you wanted him to finish, you were selfish and wanted that for yourself.

“Stop.” You wrapped your fingers around his wrist, forcing him to bellow in misery, “Why!?” He cried out, his eyes filling with salty tears. He needed this more than he could ever explain, and you wanted it for him, but you needed him too.

“I want this to be mine,” you stood again, tucking your finger under his chin, forcing him to look at you. “Do you want that?”

“I’ve been wanting that,” His hands made their way behind his back again, and you knew he was serious about it. “You’re all I’ve wanted,” his eyelids started to droop. He was already fucked out, and he hadn’t even fucked yet.

Your response was silent, it was the motion of you removing your own fabric prison. He watched you from lidded eyes, his breathing still coming down from being erratic. You reached down, finding the base of his cock with ease, guiding it into you as you sat down. Jaebeom let out a bittersweet weep, digging his nails into the couch cushions behind him. You didn’t want to move yet, because you knew this wouldn’t last long for either of you.

“Move, please,” his mouth didn’t even look like it moved, but the words were all you needed to push on.

You leaned down, pressing feathery kisses to his collarbone as your hips began the same motion from earlier, but this time your warmth enveloped him. A hiss came from his clenched teeth, and you could feel the muscles in his thighs tighten with every rotation of your hips. Your walls caved around him, as the blood rushed through the veins of his cock.

“I can’t cum unless I’m touching you,” His voice was a mere whisper, almost ashamed that he had become so attached to you.

“You can touch me,” you kissed along his neck, feeling the pulse in his jugular.

His hand fumbled out of their hiding spot. He reached for your skin, gripping your hips, trapping you in his hands. You knew that there would be Jae sized bruises on your waist in the morning. He pushed you down, every inch of him filling you up. You gasped, wrapping your arms around his neck. You knew exactly where this was going to go.

His greedy hands held you like a life preserver, ready to drown in your ocean. His hips crashing into your like waves. His thrust were quick, deep and rough. He was a raging storm ready to unleash a hurricane. His hips snapped against you. Nothing but the sounds of your skin colliding with his, and labored breathing that pumped through your chests.

“I am so close,” he squeezed out between pants and cries of euphoria.

He bent forward, hiding his face in the crook of your neck. Allowing your fingers to find the back of his head, tangling in his hair. He continued his onslaught onto your body. If you could have, you would have screamed, but the wind was taken from your lungs with every life changing pound. The end was near, and the frayed string that was holding him together was coming undone. His thrusts ceased, his body shaking as he released his three days of torture into you, flooding you with his White Sea. You hadn’t realized that he had sunk his teeth into your neck, the pleasure you had been feeling was just so intense that nothing else mattered.

You ran your fingers through his hair, waiting for him to find his way back to you after he had had his head in the clouds. It was a while before his fingers started making small circles on your back, pressing little kisses into the purple area of your bruised neck from his teeth.

“Are you okay?” Your lips kissing his temple.

“I’m okay, baby. It was just... a lot for me,” he admitted.

“I know,” you pulled back, your bodies peeling away from each other, “You didn’t...” he mumbled, feeling cruel for only chasing his own release.

“I didn’t, but that’s okay. It happens. You needed that,” you caressed his cheek, letting him lean it into your hand.

“How about we take a shower,” he turned his head, kissing your thumb, “and since I can touch you now, I’ll be more than happy to assist you,” a sleepy smile appearing on his lips.

“You won’t be able to sleep if you don’t get me off, will you?” You knew him all too well, and you knew the guilt would eat away at him.

“You are correct,” he chuckled, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear.

“If you must,” you rolled your eyes, leaning forward to taste his lips.

“Promise me one thing before we get up,” he spoke between kisses.

“Anything.”

“Don’t ever deprive me of touching you. I could live a lifetime without sex... but I couldn’t live another second without being able to hold you.” His tired eyes, boring into yours.

“Pinky promise,” you lifted your hand, extending your finger.

He did the same, locking them together. You had learned your lesson.

[unnecessarygayfeelings]

Finished my Farafey fanficton! Here’s a link to it on ao3, but I know not everyone uses that, so I’ll post it here under the read more. No content warnings (there’s a small mention of alcohol, but no one is intoxicated), just 2k words of fluff. This is for the Farafey micronation especially @aquilamage because she has epic content that inspires me a lot.

Lavender Lip Gloss

It was new year's eve and Kay was going to be late to the party because her roommate was hogging the bathroom.

Kay should be used to this, really. Ever since she and Sebastian decided to rent an apartment together at the ripe old age of nineteen, she became well aware of her friend's quirks. But she could handle the misplaced pens, loud classical music, and endless pacing at ungodly hours of the night. She would be a hypocrite if she judged him, though. Half of the pens they owned were probably on her desk, and in the early mornings she liked to sing her favourite pop songs in the shower. They argued about who was the cause of their the noise complaints every time they received one.

They've been roommates for years now. Kay was used to Sebastian's habits... except for one.

"Seb, leave the goddamn door open when you're just fixing your hair! I need the hairspray!"

It took a long time for Sebastian to break the habit of placing barriers between them when it wasn't necessary (Kay had grown up in a home with open doors and open hearts; she wants the same for Sebastian), and eventually he stopped locking the door behind him every time he entered a room. Kay respected Sebastian's need for privacy. But she also respected their friendship, and that's why she knew that what she was about to do was not only expected, but acceptable in their tiny apartment. She took a step back, lifted her leg and opened the door with one swift kick.

There was a high-pitched yelp from Sebastian, who had styling gel on his hands, a strand of hair sticking up on his head, and an unimpressed expression on his face as he saw Kay's triumphant smile. "I-I was almost done!"

"You always say that, and then you end up taking another thirty minutes," Kay replied, grabbing her hair spray and securing her high ponytail right there. Sebastian's face scrunched at the smell. She sprayed a little bit of the product in his hair, too. They both laughed, doing the finishing touches on both of their party looks together.

After a final once-over from each of them ("The green button-up was a good choice, right, Kay?" "Yeah, but what about this silver skirt?"), they were ready to go to the new year's party. It was at Miles's house this year, and if they both weren't used to bothering him at every location possible, it might have felt a bit weird to party at the boss's place.

When they arrived at Miles's house, the host himself greets them. Although he does look genuinely pleased to see them, his smile turns strained when Kay tells him to "prepare for trouble, and make it double". While Sebastian is making small talk with Edgeworth, Kay lets her mind trail elsewhere— to the reason she was so eager to get to the party in the first place.

Maya Fey had been in Kura'in for a while now. Despite their friendship being long-distance, they were still very close. Their bond was just as strong as Kay's with Sebastian, although she felt very different about Maya than him. Kay's heart soared every time her phone dinged with a new message. She circled dates on the calendar with a violet marker whenever they planned to video chat. The time difference was brutal, but Kay would gladly stay up late just to hear Maya's voice.

"Waiting for s-someone special?" Sebastian's teasing voice broke Kay out of her thoughts. She hadn't even realized that Miles was long gone. The only one next to her was her best friend, who was looking extra smug. Of course Sebastian knew about her crush. He was the one Kay would go to at one in the morning, bombarding him with texts and asking him if he thought there was a deeper meaning to them. The deeper meaning, he would tell her, is that you both like each other and it's only a matter of time before one of you make a move. He was being ridiculous, of course. Just because Maya called her pretty and laughed a little too loud at her jokes and had a purple heart emoji next to her contact name didn't mean anything.

Okay, it definitely meant something, but Kay wasn't going to take the first step and confess or anything because... she was shy. Ugh. She wasn't used to being shy. Sebastian was the shy one, not her. But Kay hadn't seen Maya in person in what felt like forever (it had been six months), so who knows. Maybe she would make a move.

"Hey, there she is!"

Kay's head shot up, pure enthusiasm with a twinge of anxiousness filling her whole body. She looked to where Sebastian was pointing, and there she was.

Maya Fey was here. Maya Fey was looking around the room. Maya Fey was making eye contact with her. Maya Fey was walking towards her.

"Hey!" Maya Fey's voice sounded so much more real when it wasn't through a speakerphone, all light and chipper. Kay wasn't sure how she'd survive the night, let alone make a move.

"Hi, Maya!" Sebastian greeted, holding out his arms and allowing a brief hug. Maya showed her affection through touch: high fives, hair ruffles, and hand holding. Kay was the same which was one of the reasons why their long distance communication was difficult. You couldn't embrace someone through a screen.

Then Maya turned towards her, arms outstretched, and Kay found herself being pulled in like a magnet. Maya's hugs were warm and welcoming. She didn't miss how they both lingered, the hug lasting many seconds longer than a hug Kay would have with any other friend, even Sebastian. But eventually they had to (slowly) pull away.

"It seems like forever since I've seen you!" Maya exclaimed, looking up at Kay with a big grin. "You look great! I love your skirt!"

Kay's brain seemed to short-circuit. Maya was wearing a cute pink party dress and her long hair was in its usual style, decorated with sparkly hair clips. Her lips were shiny with a purple gloss. It was a light shade, like lavender. Was this weird, just staring at her lips? She needed to respond before it got weird. "Thanks! I love your lip gloss!"

Okay, so now Maya had solid proof that she was staring at her lips. Oops. But Maya just smiled at her. "Haha, thanks! Do you guys want a drink? I saw Miles bought the good champagne."

Had he? Kay didn't even notice. Sebastian nods and then a minute later Maya is offering her a drink. Kay takes the glass, and tries not to think about the brush of Maya's fingers against hers too much.

Conversation is easy. Maya asks what they've been up to since the last time they talked. Kay feels like this question is more for Sebastian, since her and Maya just talked this morning on the phone. Sebastian tells her about his latest case (not a murder, thankfully), and Kay includes details from her perspective as the detective assigned. She's sure she had mentioned this case to Maya before, but Maya seems very interested anyways.

When they ask what news Maya has, she perks up tremendously. "I've finally mastered the bowl without falling on my face!"

Recently, Maya has taken up skateboarding while in Kura'in. Pearl has been the one teaching her; she was very talented, and had a cool skateboard with a flame design on the sides. Kay had been blessed with many cute selfies of Maya in her skating gear (lavender knee and elbow pads, and a florescent pink helmet that could probably blind a person if they stared too long at it) and ten second clips of her skating around in sunglasses, striking poses at the camera. Maya was a beginner but she refused to give up, despite the constant complaining of bumps and bruises from falling all the time.

"Really?" Kay gasps. She's received many texts about the bowl, and according to Maya it was one of the most difficult things to master in her life. ("It's harder than channeling spirits, Kay! Stop laughing, it's the truth!") Kay had never skateboarded before so she felt like she couldn't judge but it certainly didn't look easy.

Maya quickly pulls her phone out of her dress pocket. "Let me show you. Pearly got it on tape! Proof that I'm not making it up to sound cool or anything."

Kay believed her. Maya wouldn't need to make stuff up to sound cool. She unlocked her phone (Kay felt herself blush at the lockscreen— it's a selfie that they had taken the last time Kay was in Kura'in, a trip that was impulsive and expensive but she didn't regret it one bit) and pulled up a video of Maya on top of the bowl. Pearl can be heard off-camera shouting encouragement. Then Maya adjusts her helmet, balances herself on her board, and slides down the bowl in one swift movement. She skids to a stop once she's on the ground. The last thing they hear before the video cuts out is Maya and Pearl screaming with excitement.

"That's so cool!" Kay exclaims, genuinely impressed.

Sebastian's eyes are nearly bugging out of his head. "Whoa! You look like a pro-professional skateboarder!"

"Yeah, this makes all the times I fell down on my butt worth it," Maya says, grinning from ear to ear. They talk some more before Maya goes to mingle with an old friend.

"Hey, do either of you know where Nick is? I want to bug him before the year ends."

Sebastian points Phoenix out across the room, where he is currently distracted by his daughter Trucy pulling an comically long scarf out of the tiny pocket on her blouse. A mischievous smile, a wave of her hand, and Maya's off.

There's a brief silence as they watch Maya leave. Sebastian turns to Kay with the same shit-eating grin he has when he's about to say something clever. "Kay? I diagnose you with gay. Lesbianism, if you want to be specific."

Kay groans. "I know, I know."

"Well, it's clear that she likes you, too, so I don't see what the con-conundrum is."

Kay believed that she was a relatively logical person. Her field of work made use of that trait, tested it. And now she was being presented with more evidence and a restless witness. The pieces fit together perfectly— Maya Fey liked her. The only question was what she going to do with this information.

"Was I... obvious about it?"

Sebastian raises his eyebrow. Takes a long sip of of his drink. "Is that a trick question?"

Not everyone Mr. Edgeworth invited was at the party, but the house is noisy regardless. Friends and acquaintances are talking in groups, there's music coming from an unknown source, the television is playing a new year's special, and Kay's heart is beating up a storm. Despite all of the activity, Kay thinks her heart is the loudest thing in this place.

Sebastian is tapping his fingers against the table next to them. Another noise, although it's muffled by the black gloves he's wearing. "Well, I know you don't like champagne."

Kay looks down at the drink Maya gave her, still full. The condensation from the glass mixes with the sweat on her palm. The feeling of Maya's hand brushing against hers lingers.

In the distance, Maya nudges Phoenix roughly in the side, and his drink splashes on his shirt. Maya laughs and then points at the stain, exclaiming loudly that it kind of looks like the Blue Badger. Phoenix seems to push his annoyance aside to carefully examine his sleeve. Maya calls other people over to look, a light yet determined expression on her face, and Kay can feel herself fall a little more in love.

...

The flashy countdown screen on the TV lights up, signaling the last minute of the year. Kay smiles and swirls the untouched champagne in her glass. She's lost in the way the tiny bubbles cling onto the sides of the cup until something distracts her. Or more accurately, someone.

"Hey," Maya says, placing her own glass on the table in front of them.

"Hey," Kay echoes back intelligently. She places her glass next to Maya's as her friend (she ignores the tightening in her chest when she calls her that; she's not sure there's a single word in this world to describe what Maya is to her) sits down next to her.

There's a moment of silence between them. Maya smells like jasmine and nostalgia. Kay wants to look but she's glowing like the sun, so she decides to play it safe and stare ahead. She sees Sebastian and Klavier talking about something, but she can't concentrate enough on their voices to know the topic.

Maya's voice snaps Kay out of her trance. "Happy new year."

For a split second, Kay thinks she miscounted the seconds, and missed the celebration. She checks the television quickly, and sighs with relief. "You're about thirty seconds too early, but I appreciate your enthusiasm." Then she had to use all of her strength to resist the urge to kick herself for sounding so weird.

"Oh." Cheeks flushed red for sure, Kay risks a glance at Maya. She doesn't regret it. She doesn't think she'll ever get tired of seeing Maya smile. "Happy new year's eve, then?"

She barely pulls herself together before responding in a passably-normal-although-probably-too-eager tone. "Yeah! Happy new year's eve!"

Maya laughs at that, and Kay can physically feel her heart soar. She knows it's bad to look at the sun but she can't help it, and within seconds she's pretty sure she could map out all the freckles on Maya's face. Kay stares too long to pass as normal and she knows it. But Maya is staring, too.

"TEN SECONDS!" Kay doesn't recognizes whose enthusiastic yelling the voice belongs to, but she doesn't even bother tearing her eyes away from Maya.

Ten.

Maya is sitting so close to her that their thighs are touching. How did Kay not notice that until now?

Nine.

Maya hesitantly reaches over and touches Kay's hand with her own.

Eight.

Her hand is shaking slightly. It's sweaty, too. Kay doesn't complain. She's probably the same.

Seven.

Kay curls their fingers together. She can't seem to stop smiling.

Six.

There's no denying it. The walls between them tumble down to reveal something a bit more than friendship, a bit more than just simple attraction.

Five.

Kay wants to say something, anything, but she's been rendered speechless. She's pretty sure she looks ridiculous. Ridiculously lovestruck.

Four.

Maya's other hand reaches over to brush Kay's hair out of her face, and her touch lingers near her cheek.

Three.

There's a line that they haven't neared, trying to maintain their friendship. Maya is standing at the edge of it, threatening to cross over.

Two.

Maya tilts her head, leans in, and closes her eyes. Kay can't hear the music over her heartbeat pounding in her ears.

One.

Kay closes her eyes, leans in, and unconsciously holds her breath.

"HAPPY NEW YEAR!"

Their lips met, and Kay smudges Maya's lavender lip gloss.

[the-reverse-mermaid]

Feel Again: a whump fic

Hey buddies! I’m working on my WIPs currently and i am so grateful for ur patience but i’ve also had this thing sitting in my docs for several months and I wanted to share it at last, but just a clip because..well...in whole, it’s kinda darker than my usual stuff so the whole thing may or may not be posted in the future. This is a gift for the wondrous @parkrstark​ who had a birthday recently and who is a beautiful person and talented writer <3 Enjoy, my love~

FIC INFO: around 5k words, IronDad and SpiderSon, hurt/comfort, warnings for nightmares, panic/anxiety attacks, past dehumanization; also it’s implied that Tony is Peter’s guardian bc May died...sry, i was too coward to write her ^^;

...

It’s been seven days, ten hours and fifteen minutes. 

Peter watches, blank-faced and empty-eyed, as bowl and spoon are placed in his hands. It makes Tony feel like he’s dealing with a robot, but even his robots are more lively than this. Taking Peter’s spoon, the man presses the Cheerios under the milk so that every piece of cereal will be soggy, just the way Peter likes. In times past Tony had made fun of him for the preference, and Peter had ardently defended it as the only right way to eat cereal. 

Now the memory of Old Peter echoes in the back of his mind like a glimpse of an alternate reality.

“Think you can finish all of that, buddy?” Tony asks, leaning down so he’s in Peter’s line of sight. Dulled brown eyes trail up to him, then back to the bowl and he nods, picking up the spoon. Tony breathes a sigh of relief as the kid starts to eat, chewing slowly.

He checks his phone and feels a nervous thrill at the notification there: I’m about to come down. Still want to do this? He glances at Peter before typing and sending a quick, Yes, ty.

“Hey, bud, remember that time you, me and Pep spent Saturday morning watching dumb cartoons and eating breakfast food til noon?” he begins, picking at his own cereal to seem casual about it. “I thought we could do that today, since she’s got no meetings til this afternoon. Whaddaya say?”

Peter pauses. He lifts one shoulder indifferently, but Tony can see anxiety hidden in the movement. Apathy and fear; whatever happened in the last four months stripped Peter-- lively, expressive Peter-- of all but these two emotions. They might as well have stolen Tony’s entire fortune; that loss would’ve hurt less.

Before Tony can think how to reassure him or possibly backtrack, there are footsteps in the hall and Pepper is rounding the corner with a bright smile on her face.

“Hey, guys!” she greets, pausing in the entrance of the kitchen to look them over. She’s comfortably dressed in pajama bottoms and her ‘I lost an electron’ shirt that she and Peter both own, her hair down and feet socked. It’s 10 times less intimidating than her usual business suits and high heels but still Peter squirms closer to Tony’s side and eyes her warily, choosing to look at her feet rather than her face. Pepper wilts a bit at the reception.

“Morning, hon,” Tony calls. He pushes a pleading ‘we can do this, just act normal’ into his gaze, and Pepper, bless her, seems to get the message. “We’ve got cereal over here, help yourself.”

Pepper grabs a bowl off the counter and crosses the room, her movements deliberate and nonthreatening. There’s no change from Peter, whose own bowl is sitting in his lap like something hardly worth his interest.

“Hmm,” she hums. “Cheerios are good, but mind if I add to the spread? I think we’ve got some frozen quiches around here somewhere, that sounds good to me.”

Tony smiles. “Go for it.” As soon as she walks away he nudges Peter and says quietly, “You’re okay, Pete. Nothing to be stressed about, yeah? Pep is just like me: she wouldn’t do anything to hurt you.”

For what it’s worth, the kid does relax minutely. In the interim of Pepper opening packages and using the microwave, Tony picks up the remote and turns on the TV, browsing around for something safe and feel-good before settling on Nickelodeon, which is showing some animated movie. Peter’s eyes flick up to the screen.

“Alright, I got mini-quiches and even some blueberry muffins, ” Pepper announces upon her return, both hands holding trays of said items. “Totally gourmet... And by gourmet, I mean Costco brand.”

“The best,” Tony agrees, snatching one of each as soon as she sets them down. “Which would you rather have, bud?” He turns to Peter, who is done with his cereal and is now looking at the new food. At Tony’s invitation he hesitates but points at a muffin and Tony tries not to get too excited about it as he hands one over and watches the kid begin nibbling the top. So far things seem to be going well.

Now he’s just gotta go through with the next step.

Around ten minutes in, the movie cuts to a commercial break. Tony shifts in preparation to stand up and Peter immediately follows suit, not even questioning, but carefully Tony takes the boy’s hands and holds them at arm’s length. Peter looks at him questioningly, a rare moment of eye contact.

“I’m just gonna take a bathroom break, okay, bud?” he explains. “You stay here with Pep.” He tucks Peter’s hands to his lap and stands.

Peter keens and sits up straighter, wide eyes kindling anew with anxiety. Tony feels like the worst human being on the planet, but he knows he needs to do this. He needs to help Peter do this.

“It’s just a few minutes apart,” he promises. “I’ll go straight there and back.”

“And I’ll be here with you the whole time,” Pepper chimes in. She scoots closer from the other side of the couch and puts a soothing hand on Peter’s back, easing him back into the cushions as Tony leaves the room. The man tries not to look back as he hears her quieting and comforting the boy’s whimpers. Pepper is a better people person than Tony will ever be and he knows she’ll take good care of him, but Tony’s fingers still itch with the urge to turn right back around.

As soon as he gets to the bathroom, Tony pulls up a feed of the living room on his phone via FRIDAY’s cams to watch the room he just left. On the couch, Peter is decidedly not coping as well with Pepper as he does Tony, but he isn’t having a meltdown; in fact, he’s allowing her to sit close and keep an arm wrapped around his shoulders, though his forehead remains creased in apprehension. The poor kid looks like he’s fighting with himself to be patient; his gaze is torn between watching the TV and checking the doorway for Tony’s return.

Biting his lip, Tony puts his screen away and sighs. He paces the small space, checking his watch impatiently until at last five minutes have passed.

On his way back he hears it.

The yelling.

“Peter? Peter, honey, you’re okay! Please calm down, you’re home, you’re safe-” Pepper.

His walk turns into a sprint as he rounds the corner, heart in his throat, and takes in the worrying scene before him.

Peter is curled up in a fetal position on the couch, Pepper kneeling in front of him with helplessness on her face as she tries to get his attention. Peter’s hands are pressed over his ears, his eyes clenched shut, his whole body shuddering as he rocks and cries inconsolably.

“What happened?” Tony demands.

Pepper hurries backwards so Tony can take her spot. “I don’t know what- what agitated him,” she says in a rush. There are tears in her eyes. “He just suddenly started panicking and hyperventilating and- and he won’t let me touch him, he screams if I try-”

“Don’t scream!” Peter says suddenly. Both adults’ attention snaps to him. His eyes have opened but they’re unseeing as he croaks, “Don’t scream, they- they’ll hear! Be good, be good, be good, I- I’m good- please, I’m--”

“Peter, hey,” Tony tries, carefully putting his hand on Peter’s shoulder.

At the touch, Peter flinches, his head smacking against the couch. His whispering gets more frantic. “I’ll be better! I will! I-”

“Peter, please, stop!” The man takes Peter’s face between his hands. “You’re safe. Nobody’s gonna hurt you. Can you hear me, buddy? It’s your- it’s Tony.”

Peter goes still.

“Tony,” he repeats. His face crumples slowly, lip trembling. “I miss Tony...”

The man of iron feels his heart splinter. I miss you, too, Pete. Come back to me.

“You’ve got him,” he says. “Tony’s here now. He’s got you. He’s gonna keep you safe.”

In the stillness that follows, all is quiet save the sound of Peter’s rapid breathing, but even that is slowing and evening out. His blinks several times as the storm clouds in his eyes dissipate, light returning gradually as the seconds pass. Tony’s thumb strokes away a tear still rolling down the boy’s cheek, and at last Peter focuses and looks at rather than through him.

They stare at one another for a long moment. The teen swallows and opens his mouth with a shaky inhale, a fresh sheen of tears filling his eyes.

“S-sorry… my bad,” he rasps.

Tony’s brain short-circuits for a moment, and all he can think is how unbelievable it is that the most of Peter he’s seen in so long could come as the result of such an episode. He doesn’t know whether it makes him want to laugh or cry.

He pulls himself onto the couch and gathers his kid into his arms, one hand bracing Peter’s back, the other nestling in his still-overgrown curls. Peter responds by clinging around his middle and pressing his ear to Tony’s chest, no doubt timing his breaths by the heartbeats there.

It’s only after Pepper leaves to find them a blanket that Tony sees the TV screen and the image it’s paused on. It’s an infomercial… an infomercial for obedience training. The closed captioning advertises “Don Sullivan’s Secrets To Training The Perfect Dog: order the DVD set now and get a complimentary Command Collar”.

Tony had never had strong feelings about infomercials in general but at that moment he wants nothing more than to buy every single TV station and destroy them all. Screw Don Sullivan.

He’s surprised when Peter suddenly huffs a humorless sound. “I’m pretty broken, aren’t I,” he states quietly, voice wrecked.

Tony pushes his fingers through the scruff on the back of Peter’s neck, wishing so hard that he could turn back time. “No,” he refutes. “No, you’re not.”

Peter is quiet for a long time, so long that Tony wonders if he’s given in to the pull of post-panic-attack exhaustion and fallen asleep. But in a tired voice weighted by more sadness than any man, woman or child should ever know comes a tiny reply:

“Yes, I am.”

...

Peter has scars. A lot of them.

It’s been fifteen days since and he’s barely improved, still clinging and hesitant to speak or make eye contact with anyone other than Tony. He lets himself talk in small bursts but it’s nothing like he used to be; he can also manage up to fifteen minutes alone without having a panic attack if Tony has to shower or use the restroom. He does the same so long as Tony waits for him outside the door (within range of hearing his heartbeat).

After the disastrous separation experiment, Tony isn’t eager to push much more than that.

(Peter has scars.)

Some are thicker than others, especially on his wrists and his back; the white lines criss crossing over his form tell tale of screams long since silenced. Just seeing the marks makes Tony’s knees weak with a concoction of feelings he can’t describe-- prominently there’s horror, because he remembers how every injury was discovered and treated on that first night back and it was like Tony himself was taking a beating… and then there’s regret-guilt-anger-helplessness, because the cuts are healed now-- Peter’s healing capabilities took over soon after he got the proper nutrition and medical attention-- but poison memories are sealed inside.

If he hugs the kid a little longer than necessary after watching him get his boot cast removed and seeing the scar tissue that mars him there too, Peter doesn’t seem to mind. The kid leans into his touch more now than he ever did before.

“Alright, little shadow,” Tony says brightly as he pulls away, using the nickname that had never been more appropriate in their relationship; having a kid clinging closer than a literal shadow at all times did that to you. He glances one more time at the newly-healed foot and gets an idea. “What do you say we celebrate this cast coming off? Wanna take a walk around the compound, get some fresh air?”

Peter looks up at him through his ragged, unstyled hair, doe eyes wide but empty. Tony smooths his bangs back and the kid blinks once as if to focus. Tony can see him trying to be there, trying to care. Trying and trying and trying.

“...’kay,” he whispers, fragile. He lets Tony take his hands and help him stand.

Once he’s got them bundled up in jackets to withstand cold winds that roll off the water, Tony hiding a wrist gauntlet on the hand in his pocket (because yes, he’s that paranoid), the two of them (as one figure) step outside for the first time in-- in a while. Definitely a while.

A cool breeze follows them on their walk and Tony allows a deep breath of actual fresh air to clean out his lungs and settle in his veins. It’s not very often he gets to enjoy the benefits of living outside the city.

They end up walking along a trail that follows the Hudson and Tony decides that this actually was a good idea: the nature-y sights and sounds seem to help bring Peter to life. There’s a glimmer of contentedness in his face as he looks out over the trees and water and sky. He loosens his grip on Tony’s arm and settles for a gentle handhold. Tony looks at him sideways, feeling a swell of hope rise in his chest, right behind where his arc reactor used to be.

“It’s nice to get out, huh,” he says softly. The edges of Peter’s eyes crinkle in what might be the world’s tiniest beginning of a smile.

Other than occasionally checking that Peter’s leg isn’t hurting, Tony shuts his mouth and lets the white noise around them do its thing. He’s been talking too much lately anyway, trying to overcompensate.

They’ve been walking for almost an hour and stopped to admire a small waterfall when Peter suddenly bristles and presses himself close to Tony’s side. In paranoia, the man pulls his gauntlet hand out of his pocket and is all but ready to activate it, when all that comes around the path toward them is a wobbling toddler in a puffy coat.

They stare at him. He stares back, a gap-tooth grin on his face. “‘Ah-dy!” he says in greeting.

No, nope, I’ve definitely got my hands full being just ONE kid’s Daddy, Tony thinks worriedly, when behind the toddler appears a man who moves to scoop the boy up in his arms. The man holds the boy, who’s probably about 18-24 months old, by his feet and the kid shrieks in delight, wiggling around upside-down.

“Leaving me behind, guys?” a woman’s voice calls before a third person appears, putting her arm on her husband’s shoulder and glancing curiously at Tony and Peter. Peter hides himself behind Tony, eyes on the dirt, and Tony manages to cast them a weak smile to be polite whilst squeezing his kid’s arm reassuringly.

The man sets their kid down and he immediately spins around, looking at the waterfall. “Wa-er!” As he tottles away, Tony catches sight of the symbol on the back of his coat and does a double-take.

“Nice jacket,” he says without thinking.

He glances down at Peter. The kid has noticed too-- his eyes are locked on the symbol, expression unreadable.

The man turns around from where he and his wife are watching their toddler. He follows their gaze and laughs. It’s a tiny Spider-Man themed coat.

“Thanks! Spidey’s our family’s favorite. He saved Shannon’s life when she was pregnant with this dude,” he says, indicating his family members respectively. “The guy may not be around lately, or moved, or- whatever, there’s lot’s of theories- but... he isn’t forgotten, not for us.”

“-ah-DEE!” the little guy calls from where he and the woman have wandered, and this time he seems to be referring to his actual daddy so the man gives them an awkward little wave before walking off to catch up.

The strangers gone, Peter sags into Tony’s side. His face is still unreadable. Tony can’t think of anything to do other than wordlessly steer them down the path toward home, wondering at the heavy thought bubbles building over his kid’s head.

…

Sixteen-and-a-half days.

A strangled-sounding scream cuts through the dark and into Tony’s heart like a knife.

Tony’s startled but he isn’t surprised; startled because of the rude awakening from being asleep at the kid’s side, and the ever-terrifying possibility that something might be wrong, but not surprised in the conventional way because he’s aware that this has happened every night since the kid came off the heavy meds.

Peter is whimpering strings of ‘please’ and ‘no’, and Tony turns on the bedside lamp to see him huddled in a ball, eyes closed and budding with tears, one fist stuffed in his mouth to stifle the noise. He winces when Tony puts a hand on the side of his head.

“Peter,” Tony whispers, so tired. “Peter, bud, you’re okay. It’s just a bad dream. Open those eyes for me?”

Peter whines, but his eyes do crack open to anguished slits. He’s shaking beneath Tony’s palm, and biting down so hard on his hand that the man sees a trail of blood running down his knuckles. Tony’s other hand gently pries the fist out away from his mouth. Peter lets him.

“Hey bud,” the man greets softly, catching the kid’s gaze. Peter stills as his surrogate father rubs a thumb along his temple soothingly.

Tony smiles sadly. “What did I tell those nightmares last night, huh? My kid is off-limits; only good dreams allowed. Iron Man decrees it.”

Peter stares at him, breathing erratic as his awareness returns. He inhales sharply, an attempt to calm down, but his breath catches on a sob on the exhale. He covers his face with both hands and dissolves into fresh cries, leaning into Tony as the man takes the back of his head and pulls him close.

“Shhh,” Tony murmurs, fingers carding through the curls at Peter’s nape. “Shh, it’s okay. It’s okay. Go ahead and cry, I’m here.”

It takes some time for Peter to cry himself out. Tony doesn’t stop whispering reassurances the whole time. He can tell by the pace of the breaths beneath him that Peter’s still awake.

“You can tell me anything, Pete,” he offers gently, as he has every night. “I’m here for you.”

Peter has yet to tell Tony about what happened to him, or about the nightmares that haunt him so badly. As he comforts, Tony traces his thumb across the hollow under Peter’s eye, wiping away wetness there and remembering how the straps of a muzzle had traced the same spot in a perverse fashion not so long ago, before Iron Man had removed and destroyed the thing in disgust.

Some scars can’t be bandaged as easily as others, but for the first time in all such nights, Peter does respond.

“Mr. Stark,” he says so softly that Tony holds his breath so as to not miss anything, “Mr. Stark, I- I don’t- I just don’t understand.”

It’s in these moments, somehow, that Peter is most himself. The storms drag Peter out of his hiding place. “What don’t you understand,” the man prompts. He pulls back to see the teen’s face. His young brow is furrowed in- confusion? concentration?

Peter chews his lip for a moment before going on. “It’s like, when I was there… all I could- all I dreamed about was home. But now I’m here and I, I can’t- I’m st-still there, you know?” He meets Tony’s eyes. “What if I can’t ever really come home?” he concludes hopelessly.

Tony does unfortunately, painfully know what he’s asking about, because he has a similar trauma and it’s called Afghanistan.

“You just need time, buddy,” he says. “I know what you mean, trust me, I do. It just gets better with time.”

“Is it worth it?” Peter presses suddenly. “Am I-” His eyes trail sideways to the sheets and he swallows. “Am I even worth it?”

Tony’s jaw hardens. “That’s not even a question.”

“I-I did bad things… And, and I’m not the same.”

“You didn’t have a choice, kid. And being different? That’s not as bad as you think.”

“I’m ruining your life.”

“Peter, you are not-”

“I’m inhuman and I’m a waste of space.”

It’s the way he says it, like it’s a known fact, something he’s been drilled with and long since accepted, that really gets under Tony’s skin. He’s been pretty good at holding himself together so far, all things considered, but can’t help that he feels his own eyes stinging with tears at the sound of his kid reiterating the garbage he’s been brainwashed with.

He sits up so suddenly that Peter startles.

“I’m not really tired anymore,” he says briskly, throwing the covers off himself and trying to discreetly wipe at his eyes.

Peter pushes himself up too, eyes wide and concerned. “Mr. Stark?”

“I’m feeling like a trip to the lab, maybe a snack on the way. How ‘bout you, kid? Wanna join your old man for some late night wandering?”

Peter presses his lips together in confusion, but he nods. Tony pushes the covers back more so that the kid can get his feet on the ground before stepping out himself, the both of them slipping into their usual bracing of one another.

Apparently speaking, and now getting up, is too much deviation from the routine for Peter because in his eyes he’s slipping back into himself, expression closing off. Tony hopes he doesn’t feel embarrassed; Before-Peter would’ve been, but Now-Peter is hard to read.

FRIDAY turns on lights as they pad down the hall, already long since attuned to Tony’s nocturnal habits. A quick stop at the kitchen supplies them with a bowl of Chex mix, and then the lab doors are whooshing open and Tony’s realizing he doesn’t actually feel like tinkering. He just needed a reprieve to collect his thoughts but now he’s got Peter out of bed for no reason and it’s not healthy, he’s gonna ruin his kid, he’s a terrible guardian-

He shakes his head. One thing at a time.

“Come sit with me,” he says unnecessarily, leading a compliant Peter to the couch and settling him down with the bowl of Chex in his lap. Neither of them move to eat any of it. Tony takes a seat beside him and drums his fingers on the knee of his worn sweatpants for a long moment, looking around for something to do now that he’s brought them here.

His eyes fall on a forgotten Target bag sitting stuffed in one corner and the metaphorical light bulb goes on.

As quickly as he sat, Tony’s back on his feet. Peter’s gaze follows him as he crosses to a nearby screen, booting it on and then retrieving the items he needs from the shopping bag. He shields his activities from Peter and whispers instructions to FRIDAY before finally whirling around to look at his kid with a crazy grin. It probably seems like he’s gone crazy at this point.

“Buddy, I have one question for ya,” he states, hands raising and pausing for dramatic effect. “Have you ever played… Just Dance?”

Peter stares at him the way one might stare at a fascinating tornado. He slowly shakes his head.

Tony laughs nervously. “Uhh... me neither. But listen, after you moved in, I kind of-” ...panicked... “-sent Happy to the store to find things you might like to have around the house? Like video games? I don’t know what kids like. Happy doesn’t either. He must’ve checked the internet or something because he came home with this, and kid, can you imagine Harold Hogan in the store buying a dancing game? Now that’s an image I treasure. On behalf of his efforts, I think we should give it a go, right here, right now.”

By the time the rambling stops, Dum-E, U and Butterfingers have made their way to this corner of the lab like curious cats trying to interpret their boss’ strange behavior. Noticing their presence, Tony throws his arm out to point at Dum-E. The other two bots startle comically.

“You,” Tony declares. “You can hold a wii remote, right? You and me. Let’s dance. Pete, you’re on the tambourine. I don’t actually have a tambourine. Just keep time by knocking, like this.”

The man leans forward and raps his knuckles twice against the side of the chex mix bowl. It’s not like it’s loud, or even necessary, but it’s something to get the kid involved. Peter looks a little lost, but not in the dissociative way- more like he’s trying to figure out if he’s actually awake or if this is a weird dream he’s having. Still, Tony’s on a roll and he feels dangerously confident. Not quite confident enough to ask Peter to dance, but enough to make a fool of himself in the hopes of bringing comic relief to one of their awful nights.

Within a few minutes, FRIDAY has configured the game on Tony’s screen and the main menu music is playing through the speakers. One newly-unwrapped wii-remote is clutched in Dum-E’s claw, safety strap secured, and Tony’s using the other to flip through the menu and create player profiles.

“Okay, so…” he mutters, finally arriving at the song selection screen. “What do we have here... Gotta make sure we choose an easy one. Not for me, of course; I’m worried about dum-dum over there.”

His eye catches on a song title, and he pauses to let the sample play. At first it was just because the song is marked “Beginner Level”, but he recognizes the clip as a tune he’d once caught Peter humming as he worked on some homework. Being the privacy-respecting parental figure he is, Tony had proceeded to tease him relentlessly because One Direction? Wow, Pete, gotta say I didn’t peg you as a pre-teen girl from 2012.

Still, out of the corner of his eye, he sees Peter perk just slightly, the little dork-- and it’s enough that Tony’s pressing the ‘play’ button without further mental argument.

The screen changes to four dancers, two of which are labeled for his and Dum-E’s remotes. As the opening measures of guitar riff begin, Tony mimics the pose of the avatar on screen and peeks over his shoulder.

“I need my tambourine player,” he reminds, and though Peter’s face is twisted in an expression of intrigue, he quickly readies his knuckle against the side of the Chex bowl and starts tapping it in time with the music.

And Tony dances.

“You’re insecure… Don’t know what for. You’re turnin’ heads as you walk through the do-o-or.”

“How the crap?” Tony mutters, watching Dum-E hit every move perfectly whilst his own avatar misses several points. “How-“

“Don’t need make-up… to cover up. Bein’ the way that you are in en-uh-uh-ough.”

The graphics go crazy for the beginning of the chorus and Tony cringes, though that changes when behind him he hears a small laugh that makes his heart stutter. He doesn’t look just yet, just tries harder to wave his remote hand in time with the song with exaggerated movements.

“Baby, you light up my world like nobody else. The way that you flip your hair gets me overwhelmed-“

This is definitely written for preteen girls, he sighs internally. Still... it’s undeniably catchy. To add to the show, he starts mumble-singing out the words aloud as they scroll on-screen:

“The way you smile at the ground, it ain’t hard to tell, you don’t kno-o-ow, you don’t know you’re beautiful-”

That’s when the ‘tambourine’ beats stop. When Tony looks behind him he sees the kid shaking with silent laughter, an open-mouthed smile on his face.

He meets Tony’s eyes and for once there’s no weight of the world there. He’s just-- Peter.

It’s a sight too beautiful to describe.

“Oooh, keep trying!” the game prompts when Tony forgets to keep up. Their eyes flicker to the screen and Tony huffs.

“I’m not cut out for this follow-along stuff,” he says airily, giving up on it completely. “Tony Stark follows no one’s rules but his own.”

And with that, he slings his remote strap around U’s claw and breaks into his own freestyle moves, the ones he usually reserves for dancing in private, when he’s sleep-deprived and a little loopy. Be that as it may, Tony Stark knows he is a good dancer; he never imagined it would come in handy for a moment such as this, but heck, there’s not much he wouldn’t do if it got Peter doubling over in peels of giggles like he is right now.

When the song hits the chorus a second time, Tony grabs a screwdriver off the shelf, turning it upside-down as an impromptu microphone, and he sings the next words directly to his beaming kid:

“Peter, you light up my world like no-bo-dy else. The way that you- have- hair? Na-na-nanana-- The way you smile at the ground, it ain’t hard to tell, you don’t kno-o-ow--”

Peter goes still, a lingering smile on his face as he listens to Tony’s altered lyrics.

“-If only you saw what I can see, you'd understand why I LOVE you so PERFECTLY-- Right now I'm looking at you and I can't believe you don't know, oh oh- You don't know you're beautiful! Oh, oh-oh, Pe-ter you’re so beau-ti-ful!”

Tony breathes out, surprisingly choked up. He repeats the message as emphatically as he can, for however many times the song repeats it, his movements getting more silly and more sloppy until the music finally ends, bots trilling excitedly in the background about Dum-E’s somehow-perfect score.

He lowers himself to the ground in front of Peter, panting from exertion. The hum of menu music plays behind them but the game is forgotten.

“Peter Benjamin Parker,” Tony breathes. “You are worth… everything. The whole world. You were, you are, and you always will be.”

Peter’s eyes shine like stars. He melts into Tony’s hold when the man leans forward.

…

Peter has scars, but Peter is not his scars.

[munsonstyles]

“oh, it was live?” | david dobrik

Requested? Yes: You are honestly the best writer I’ve come across! Please consider possibly writing an imagine about David dobrik that is friends to lovers where he takes you to a movie premiere but all the reporters assume ur his gf and it’s awkward but then later he admits to you he wishes you did come as his date

A/N: whoa look who’s back from the dead !! lmao. i never write for any of the requests i get anymore but i read this one and the idea wouldn’t leave my head. so everyone welcome back, me, dobrikstyles. (also, THANK U SO MUCH FOR THE SWEET COMPLIMENT)

——-

being best friends with david dobrik is not at all what it is hyped up to be among his fans.

yes, you get invited to parties.

& yes, you’ve been able to meet so many cool celebs.

but, the man (child) is actually a psychopath. (you and the rest of the vlog squad are still trying to convince shane dawson to do a series on proving that, but that’s not the point right now.)

in all honestly, he really was great. just sometimes he looked at you with his (sweet) puppy dog eyes and begged you to do something for him.

thankfully, today he was only trying to convince you to come to a movie premiere with him, not trying to convince you to shoot one of the boys with a paint ball gun (for the twentieth time).

“y/n.. please. no one else will go with me & jack says i can’t make any excuse to get out of this one” he groans, throwing his body back against the love sac to look at you upside down, a small pout forming on his lips.

“oh fuck off. good to know i’m your last option” you scoff, crossing your arms across your chest, as you sit on the couch.

he quickly sits up, shaking his head. “no, no- fuck. that’s not what i mean, y/n.”

you shake your head back at him, rolling your eyes teasingly, “mhm.”

“y/n. please come with me. i’ll buy you - fuck, i don’t know,” he pauses as he bites his lip in thought, “i don’t fucking know. whatever you want. just please come with me.”

you raise a single eyebrow at him, “hmm... anything?” you smirk.

he nods hesitantly, a look of fear on his face.

“okay. buy me a tesla.” you state.

he opens his mouth in shock, “y/n- c’mon. what - fuck. is that - god, y/n. is that really what you want? fuck, i gotta call ian. he’s not gonna be happy, he just helped me buy that fucking ferrari.”

you watch him panic and look for his phone, muttering to himself. you throw your head back in laughter after a few minutes, “fuck, david, no, i’m seriously kidding. i don’t want a fucking tesla, of course i’ll go with you. don’t you realize you don’t have to bribe me with money or gifts anymore? we’re friends, dave.”

he stops his frantic searching for his phone and glares up at you, “fuck you, y/n y/l/n.”

“ah, ah, ah,” you sing, shaking your finger at him, “i wouldn’t be talking to me like that after i just willingly decided to go to a movie premiere with you, mister david dobrik.”

he reluctantly shuts his mouth, holding back any other remarks he was planning on making at you. you smirk, “good. now, what do i need to wear?”

——

a couple of days later finds you at david’s house again, this time getting ready in natalie’s room for the movie premiere.

“and why can’t you go with him?” you sigh, putting the last finishing touches of makeup on your face.

you watch natalie roll her eyes in the mirror, “because, y/n. i’m getting over having the flu. i have explained this to you four times already.”

you sigh again, turning around and facing your friend on the bed, “i know, nat. it’s just - is it weird that i’m nervous?”

you nervously mess with some of your dress as you continue talking, “like - i know i’ve done this before, but the rest of you guys have been there, or at least someone else has gone. but this time it’s just him and i, and you know -“ you pause, groaning slightly.

“i know you have a huge, giant, massive crush on the literal psychopath in the next room?” she teases quietly.

you groan even louder, “shut the fuck up. if you weren’t sick, i would beat the shit out of you right now.” you joke, pushing at her leg.

“i’d like to see you try, y/n. but listen, friend to friend, you’re gonna be fine. like i’ve told you thousands of times - yet you still refuse to believe - he likes you too. i’m sure he’s just as nervous, if not more nervous than you right now. so seriously, you’re gonna be fine.”

you roll your eyes, “stop fucking saying that. he doesn’t like me. i would know.”

she rolls her eyes right back at you, mumbling under her breath, “yeah, you would think you would know.”

——

you step into david’s tesla, sitting in the passenger seat, “thank god we’re not taking the ferrari, i couldn’t deal with my hair messing up right before we go in front of hundreds of photographers.” you joke, buckling up.

you finally turn around and make eye contact with david, who quickly turns his head down, a soft blush high on his cheek bones.

“you, um - you look good, y/n. really good.” he mumbles, starting the car.

“fuck off, david.” you joke, trying not to make it too evident in your voice that you’re actually freaking the fuck out inside.

“i guess you do too.” you say, almost too quietly.

he giggles softly, “fuck off, y/n.”

——

your nerves had finally started to wear off in the car with david, you actually almost forgot you were about to step out into a media frenzy, until you actually did, and the nerves hit you all over again.

you turned to david, panic evident in your eyes.

he rests his hand on the small of your back, leaning forward to whisper in your ear (it was very loud, okay.) “hey, you’re good. they’ll just take pictures and i have to do like one interview. it will be fine.”

you take a deep breath, making eye contact with him and nodding your head, “we’re good. it’s fine. i’m fine. why are we even still standing here? let’s go dobrik.” you ramble, grabbing his wrist and dragging him up to the (red) carpet.

he laughs (yes the cute vlog one), and follows after you.

his interview is with someone from ET (Entertainment Weekly). you stand off to the side, holding his camera and watching some celebrities walk past you, and glancing at david every now and then.

you weren’t paying much attention to the interview until you heard your name.

“so, david. i see you brought y/n here with you tonight, although she’s only in a few of your vlogs.” she says in a suggestive tone.

you continue to look the other way to not make it obvious you were listening in.

“well, i mean, everyone else was busy, so she was my last option.” he jokes, laughing at himself.

you try your very hardest not to roll your eyes at the boy and make a snarky comment back.

“no, no. i’m kidding. she’s great.” he says, not actually answering her question.

“oh c’mon, david. give us all the details! is she your new GF,” (who actually says the letters like that instead of the whole word anyways?), “she’s pretty cute and i know some fans have been speculating!! what’s the tea?!” she fishes.

you glance at david for a split second, noticing his hesitancy, “i mean - no. she’s not my girlfriend,” he pauses, “yeah - no. we’re not dating.”

your stomach burns with a million different types of emotions, and you can’t pinpoint what any of them actually are.

“that was a strange way to answer that, david dobrik,” the interviewer jokes.

he shrugs, glancing over at you to make sure you’re not listening, his famous grin over taking his face once again as he leans in to whisper to the interviewer, “how about you ask me that question again the next time i see you?” he suggests, causing your brain to short-circuit and your heart to start racing.

shit. you really had to pretend you didn’t hear him now. what the fuck does that even mean anyways?

you were too lost in your own thoughts to even realize that the man of all your inner turmoil was standing in front of you.

“earth to y/n. you good?” he waves his hand in front of your face, pouting when you slap it away.

“yes i’m good. how did that interview go anyways?” you ask, nonchalantly.

he shrugs, a fond smile on his face, “good. you ready to head in?” he nods his head towards the entrance.

you nod, “lead the way, dobrik.”

——

after the premiere, you were sitting in david’s passenger seat again, heading home.

you finally fished your phone out of your dress pocket, unlocking it to (what felt like) a million and one notifications.

“what the fuck?” you mumble to yourself, thumbing through them.

“everything okay?” david asks from the drivers seat, glancing over towards you.

you begin reading all of the notifications, only to find one common thing among them: The Clip of David Talking About You in the Interview ™️. (which you had efficiently blocked from your memory, thank you very much).

you hadn’t realized david peeking over your shoulder until you heard him speak, “fuck. it was live?” he groans, and as you turn to look at him, you notice the blush rising on his cheeks.

“david dobrik. what the fuck is this?”

he bites his lip, parking the car, (which made you realize you had actually arrived at his house already).

“i may or may not have made the interviewer believe that i may or may not have a crush on you?” he says in a high-pitched tone. “and she may or may not have asked me if you were my girlfriend and i may or may not have suggested that she asked me the next time she saw me?”

you stared blankly at the boy you (somehow) had a giant crush on, “and why, david dobrik? would you ever do something like that?”

“because i may or may not have a giant, massive crush on you, and i may or may not have been planning on asking you on a date soon?” he tilts his head to the side, squeezing his eyes shut a little, a hopeful smile beginning to form on his face.

you don’t say anything for a minute, allowing the tension to get heavier. after finally deciding to break the tension, you say, “well, which one is it?”

he looks at you with a confused expression on his face.

“which one is it, dobrik? may or may not?”

a smile begins overtaking his face once again, as he glances down before looking up at you again, “may,” he whispers quietly. “i mean - i was - am. i am planning on asking you on a date soon, and by soon i mean, right now.”

you blush softly, grinning at him and nodding at him in encouragement to continue speaking.

“y/n y/l/n, will you please do me, david dobrik, the honor of going on a date with me?”

your grin (somehow) gets wider, and you nod at him once again, “fucking finally.” you cheer.

——

a couple of months later, finds you and david in (almost) the same scenario again, except this time, when the interviewer from ET asks if you and david are dating, you get to squeeze his hand, and nod along with him as he says,

“yes, after fuc - oops. after forever, yes, we finally are.”

[teaandatale]

forgotten first meeting and either space au or roommate au for steggy?

57. forgotten first meeting & 22. Space AU or 12. Roommate AU

Well…  How about all three???

Sorry this took so long! Given my last two, I wanted to makesure this one was a decent ficlet length, and I realized I’ve had a sci-fi/spacedrought in the last year so it took a bit to get myself into the zone. This ismore of a collection of scenes, but I hope it gives you the gist of this ficmash up! Um… It’s quite long for a meme thing… So there’s a cut.

He’s not sure what he had exactly expected out of the Servicewhen he first joined up, but Steve sure hadn’t been expected to be halfway tothe outer belt aboard the most protected, secretive ship in the known galaxy, the U.S.S. SHIELD. He hadn’t expected an Earther like him would be tapped for a highly classified secret mission with the SSR. He wasn’t supposed to be here. He was working his standard circuit between Earth, Moon Colony II & Mars Colony, patrolling for the usual contraband when the call came. A prepped mission just lost one of their crew members, and he was requested at behalf of the Service’s highly elite trained SSR squad to report for duty. Steve made his last stop, brought his second-in-command and best friend Bucky up to speed, and boarded the first transport ship out towards the Service base on Ganymede.

He also sure as hell hadn’t expected to be paired up with the woman that he had been half in love when they were just recruits nine years ago.

Peggy Carter hasn’t changed much in his eyes, at least not in her stature and attitude. Her hair was longer than it had been back then, worn loose unlike the pulled back regulations of recruit days. But those eyes, the quirk of her brow and the perfect red lips, he remembered them just like yesterday, when his breath hitched and he never quite recovered it.

The moment he locked eyes with her, he gets a giddy feeling in his stomach, both excitement and something like nostalgia.

“Agent Peggy Carter, Agent Steve Rogers, welcome aboard,” CommanderPhillips, an old familiar face, greeted them on the Command Deck. “You’ll be getting to know each other very well over the course of this mission, but we’ll start with the high-level objectives and schematics.”

There doesn’t seem to be any recognition in Peggy’s eyes, and she quickly turns away to focus on Phillips.

“The target of course is Hydra, as you’ve both crossed paths with them in the System.”

He tries not to dwell on it as Phillips pulls up the relevant mission documents. They’re joined by Howard Stark who Peggy does seem to recognize.

An hour later, preliminary brief under way, they are giving initial prep assignments aboard the ship.

“I look forward to working with you Agent Rogers,” Peggy says without any ounce of familiarity as she sticks her hand out to him. He tries not to take it personally, after all, why would she remember him from that night they properly met all those years ago.

Steve swallows his disappointment and shakes her hand back. “I look forward to it also, Agent Carter.”

“Now if someone could point me to my quarters, it’s been a long journey here,” she says.

Howard taps several times on his command screen then clicks his tongue. “We’re running a full crew right now given the situation. The mission team was paired in the same bunk room before you two got assigned to this in their stead. Looks like you’ll have to make due with bunking together. It’s at least private quarters, unlike all the juniors manning Comm stations. They’restill in the general barrack bunks.” He shrugs. “Good time as any to get toknow each other real well before you two go off on your own.”

He notices Peggy make a face for a moment, but she doesn’t comment. Bunking with a girl. Bunking with Peggy. Maybe he should offer to take a spot in the bunks.

“Fine,” she responds in a clipped tone. “Now if you please Howard, point us to our quarters.”  

The quarters are small, as to be expected, though he supposes he’d been a bit spoiled having decent quarters on his usual circuit ship. The two bunks are built into opposite walls, with a small workstation under each. The privacy away from the crowded bunkrooms was a privilege. And Stark was right. He and Peggy were really going to need to get to know each other if they were going to make the covert mission work.

“Do you have a preference?” he asks her of the bunks.

“I’ll take the right wall if you don’t mind.”

He nods. “Of course,” he replies and they both get to work unpacking their personal effects in silence.

Steve contemplated saying something to break the silence, but he wasn’t sure if that would be more awkward than just saying nothing. He’d shared bunkrooms with women before, but he’d never shared private quarters withone, and definitely not one he had a crush on.

He decides not to make the situation anymore awkward for Peggy, who he is sure is not thrilled about sharing with him, and decides to give her as much privacy as one can in a tiny space.

“I apologize if I’m a bit short,” he hears from across the room. He turns and sees Peggy holding her blanket. “It’s been a long and wild journey here for me, so I’m on hour 34 without sleep.”

“You’re kidding!”

She shrugs. “Duty calls, but we hit an uncharted asteroid field which had been a pleasure to map out until we discovered it was one of the forgotten mine fields from the War.”

He’s impressed. Not surprised. But still… Impressed. “Wow,” ends up as his response.

“I just mean that the last few days have been particularly stressful.”

“Of course,” he agrees quickly. “That is one hell of a voyage to manage on a good day. Well you should probably get some shut-eye while you can. I was gonna scope the ship out. I can bring some food back in a couple of hours.”

He’s rewarded with a sleepy smile from her, and he can feel his heart thump against his ribcage. “That would be lovely. Perhaps some coffee if you can find it?”

He smiles back. “You got it.”

*

That first night, alone in their quarters together is awkward, even though Peggy seemed to warm to him when he had delivered on his promise of coffee and food. She asked him about his work on the patrol route, and he gets to hear about the more lengthy intense covert ops that had led her to stints on pretty much every occupied planet and various lunar colonies. He asks her a lot of questions about undercover work, having only done a few of his, and mostly out of necessity than direct order from above. He keeps waiting for an organic moment where their shared past will come up, but it doesn’t. They have a stilted conversation about turning the lights off, and then in the darkness, hyper aware that she is only several feet away, Steve can’t sleep. He stares up blankly, listening to the sounds of Peggy tossing and turning to get comfortable. He wonders if she slept well during her nap, or if like him, found that so much space travel made his brain so dizzy it wouldn’t easily relax.

He thinks about Bucky, and considers sending him a message just to check up on him. He thinks about how he spent the long voyage her missing his mother. It had been a long time since he had so many uninterrupted hours to just think. He misses her every day, but he had missed her so intensely the farther he got away from Earth, in a way he hadn’t felt since her funeral.

The morning alarm comes to early, but he’s out of bed and doing his usual routine or stretches and warm-up before he remembers that he has a roommate. He had so easily pulled off his t-shirt as he normally would have for exercise, but he feels so suddenly naked without it.

A sleepy Peggy Carter is a sight to behold, her features so soft. But even sleepy, her eyes roam his chest and he flushes. He grabs for the shirt on the floor and pulls it on, not daring to look in Peggy’s direction until he’s done his pull-ups. She joins in his stretches, and when she lifts her arms high up, he has to look away from her as a sliver of skin at her stomach becomes visible, before he says or does something embarrassing.

It’s been a long time since he’d been on a long voyage like this. He was used to his shorter cycles, never in the same place for more than a week, not going longer than three or four days without a docking. They’re still a while out before their passenger ship is outfitted and ready to go. It gives them plenty of time to strategize and to catch the other up on their knowledge and run-ins with Hydra.

They spend most of their days together. Compiling notes on known Hydra assets. Visiting Stark to confer about the specs needed for their mission. They run flight simulations together, Peggy as the lead pilot, the role she will be taking, and Steve as both navigator and lead engineer. They work on their cover, and keep up physical exercise, and weapons training, all together. By the end of their third week in transit, they’ve developed a genuinefriendship. Steve still listens carefully every night as she gets comfortablein her bed, listening for the sound of her breathing evening out before hefalls to sleep.

*

Two weeks after the success of their first covert trip, the test run Stark insisted upon before they flew off toward the Outer Belt alone, as goes to hell onboard the U.S.S SHIELD. They backtracked to Jupiter as the upheaval at Mars Colony played out. Phillips was apparently concerned about the powers at play, and was called back in the event a true skirmish arose. Which was perfect time for their main comm system to go down. As the Command Deck scrambled to boot up secondary and tertiary systems without compromising their position, Steve jumped below deck with Stark to try to recover the main system.

“Steve? Any progress?” he hears Peggy ask on their local two-way.

“Slow going Peggy,” he says with a sigh.

He hears her sigh too. “It’s not looking good. Phillips’ is navigating blind and the Mars situation seems to be getting worse.”

“Riots?”

She hums. “We’re picking up gun ships on the long-range. No accurate reading though with the system so intermittent.”

“Shit.”

He and Stark exchange a look. They have Peggy confirm output levels as they work, hearing as the situation gets more and more tense, with a three-gunship fleet sent out ahead to make better assessment. She gives them updates as she assists the crew upstairs. The repair takes hours, but they get it done.

“Peg we got it! Should be live any second!” He doesn’t wait for her response before rushing back over to her.

There’s a cacophony of noise on the Command Deck when Stevefirst reaches it, followed up a sudden eerie silence as the newsfeeds come back up, and the screens report the live images. He gasps along with the rest of them with the fiery images of ships under fire. The distress calls of one ofthe fleet’s gunships comes too late. He feels Peggy’s hand on his arm, but hecan’t even focus on it when he sees another disturbing image. A patrol ship, with an emblem of a star encased in concentric circles. Destroyed. His patrol ship. Bucky. Destroyed. The Honorary First Avenger patrol ship destroyed as it made a play to intercept fire at civilian passenger ship bound for Earth. Bucky…

“Steve.”

He doesn’t recognize that he’s the one hyperventilating until she calls his name. He looks at Peggy but sees nothing. Her hand is still onhis arm.

“Steve.”

“That’s my…” He can’t breathe. He wants to scream. “Bucky.”

The look she gives him is too painful to look at.

“No! No!”

Something squeezes his arm. “Steve, please! Please. Stay with me here. Breathe please. Please.”

He tries to follow her breaths, but between the chaos in his head and the tears streaming across his face, he can’t be here. He should have been there. It should have been him not Bucky. He pulls away and runs. He runs all the back to their quarters. He starts to scream into the void of the empty room, pounding his fist into the wall. He’s never so wished he had private quarters until this very moment. How can he have a breakdown and scream and cry and mourn and hate when he has to share a room with someone? How is he supposed to keep this all in check? How is his best friend dead?

Steve’s lost track of everything. Time. Space. His own body. Everything hurts so much that at this point his muscles feel numb. He jumps when the door opens. Peggy looks at him mournfully. He wipes his hand roughly across his face, clenches his jaw and wills himself not to show further emotion. She comes and sits down next to him on the floor. He doesn’t remember getting there. Was he not in his bunk?

Peggy puts her hand in his and pulls him close to her. He feels like she’s waiting for something, but Steve doesn’t move or say anything. Neither does she. After a while, he feels her hands slide up his arms. He blinks away more tears that have formed and watches her look at him. His shoulders are still heaving when her hands come up to touch them. He tries to still his uncontrollable body.

She comes close and without warning, her lips are on high on his cheekbone. The next moment she’s ushering him into his bunk. He feels like a scolded puppy sent to its cage. He turns over towards the wall with a frown. But then he feels something warm behind him.

“I’m so sorry Steve,” Peggy murmurs into his ear, pressing her lips again his jaw. She curls into him, her arm around his waist, her head resting against his shoulder. The rest of his defenses fall and he lets her hold him, turning so that they’re facing each other. “I’m so sorry,” she repeats as he sobs again, this time against her chest. “I’m here for you. I’m right here with you Steve.”

They spoon all night. She doesn’t leave in the morning. Peggy continues to weaver her fingers through his hair, and rub her hands down his back. But she doesn’t leave. They get up to clean themselves up, to force food into him, and for Peggy, a brief check-in up at Command where things have cooled significantly. Steve worries he’s all alone again.

But then Peggy comes back and climbs into bed with him. He doesn’t give a shit anymore. He presses his fingers into her hips and pulls her against him. When she curls her hand around his neck, he shudders and buries his face against her shoulder. Their bodies twist close together in the tiny bunk, warmth pooling between them. She lets him grip her close like his life depends on it. He thinks it might.

He dreams of the night they met.

It was at the canteen late one night after a long day of training simulations and ship duties. She’s one of three women on the ship. She’s been there for two weeks longer than the rest of them. So when Hodge, a brick head of a bully at the best of times, makes a pass at her and then tells her she can serve under him once he’s Captain of his own ship real soon because trust him, his dad’s got money so he’s sure of a promotion in a hurry, she gives him a calm request of an apology. He snorts and reaches for her ass. He’s barely made contact when she grabs his wrist, twists and then lands a punch to his jaw so quick and clean Steve’s mouth drops in wonder and quite honestly adoration. Hodge stumbles with the force of the hit and falls flat on his ass. A couple of his friends try to help him out, while the rest mostly look away not wanting to get involved. Hodge pushes his friends hands away, and red-faced marches towards her. She doesn’t look fazed but Steve finds himself there blocking his way before he can realize what’s happening.

 “Easy there Hodge you don’t want to embarrass yourself a second time huh?”

 “You stay out of it you pipsqueak Earther.”

 It stings, like those comments always have, but he’s used to it. Had nineteen years of the like.

“That’s really original. No wonder they haven’t promoted you yet. Or is that just because your dad doesn’t have connections to Commander Phillips so your stuck proving your worth the same as they rest of us? Now if you’ll excuse me, now that your seat is vacated I wanted to get a drink.”

 Hodge’s buddies talk him out of causing trouble and he walks out. Beating Steve up in front of plenty of witnesses at the canteen won’t earn him any favors. Everyone knows Phillips is a hard ass with no humor for nonsense. And Steve bets if Hodge did get in trouble, Steve would be right there with him for instigating it. It would have been worth it for the amused look Peggy Carter gives him alone.

 “He’s a fun one isn’t he?” He finds himself commenting. It’s odd for him because he’s never really been able to talk to girls before. And here’s the most gorgeous one he’s ever met and he can’t stop his mouth.

She arches her brow, the amused look still present. He feels heat at the back of his neck and to avoid further making awkward motions, hefiddles with the drink he didn’t really want but felt compelled to get.

They sit there side by side in silence.

 “Don’t listen to him,” he hears her say after a moment. He’s not sure what this advice is in reference to. To his harassment of her? “Not all of us come from the high life of Mars Colony.”

 He’s surprised, pleasantly so, feeling a tug of connection with her already.

 “You’re an Earther?” he asks excitedly. She’s the only other Earth-born that he’s met in his almost year with the service.

 She nods. “Yes. I was born in London. Where are you from?”

 “Brooklyn,” he tells her.

 “That’s lovely. I’ve only been to Brooklyn proper once myself but visited New York frequently as a young child. My father was based there for a while.”

He dreams of how they talked for hours before they had to get shut-eye before morning duty. He dreams of how he had been so excited to talk with her again.

When he wakes up, after their third night of sleeping together, Steve kisses her once. Soft, gentle, quick. He feels too raw for anything more. Her closeness and her caring of him is a gift. They turn until they face each other, Peggy playing with his hair.

“We’ve met before,” he tells her, his voice rough with disuse. Her eyebrow quirks but she lets him continue. “On the U.S.S. Valkyrie. We were both recruits. At the canteen. You punched Gilmore Hodge. Remember him?”

She bites her lip as she thinks. “Yes, though it’s a little hazy. There have been a lot of assholes in my path.”

He shrugs his shoulders. “I understand. It was almost ten years ago.”

She bites her lip as she thinks some more. “Wait. The canteen. We talked about Earth. I told you about my brother Michael.”

He nods, and the first small smile in days forms on his lips. “Yeah, your fighter pilot brother Michael.”

“You told me about your Mum. A nurse making ends meet. Why didn’t you come find me again?”

He sighs. “Two days later I got a call from the hospital Maworked at. She was dying. The Service granted me a leave of absence. She died three months later. I came straight back to the Valkyrie. You were already gone.”

Peggy kisses him, so gentle, so full of warmth it makes him cry again. She doesn’t seem off put by the tears. “The stars are not always inour favor. But I’m so glad they found us here together despite all things.” Henods numbly in response. “I’m sorry I didn’t remember you Steve Rogers.”

He shrugs. “We’re here now.”

Peggy laces their fingers together. “We are here together. And I won’t leave you alone for anything. Not for all the galaxies inthe universe.”

[malachite-isms]

Your Kiss is on Their List pt2: Ruby Rose

Their trap was set. The hunters in position, the bait readied, the prey driven into range. Now all that was left to do was wait. It was all too simple... Like, way too simple. Stupidly simple. Cartoonishly simple. But, if their research was to be trusted, it was just the right amount of simple.

That is not to say their target would be as easily caught as the trap was set. Quite the opposite. She was a veteran in all but title, a seasoned fighter and hunter of the creatures of Grimm. More, she was a speedster, able to outpace and out-maneuver nearly any foe. Not only that, but her position of leadership spoke to her tactical mind and quick thinking. Any who considered her a mere upstart in battle would be sure to suffer.

Fortunately for the devious duo, their target had weaknesses they were intimately familiar with exploiting. She was socially awkward, romantically inexperienced, easily embarrassed by praise, and currently crushing hard on another girl. Additionally, it would appear as though she has never been competently flirted with. Frankly, all they would need to do to secure their victory would be to make physical contact.

And she was getting closer by the moment.

-------------------------

Usually, this sort of thing might've been her fault. She could admit that, no problem. But this? This?! How in Oum's name was she supposed to know the lines for the bathroom grew so quickly? She had taken five minutes to clip her toenails in the room (almost exclusively for the purposes of upsetting Weiss) and suddenly the lines for every bathroom on every floor of their dorm stretched longer than lines for the new Scroll.

After patrolling every bathroom in the building in her pajamas for what felt like hours, Ruby had simply started wandering. Maybe she could trick Weiss into thinking she had taken a shower if she was gone long enough. It wasn't like she was going to perform an inspection.

As she considered tweaking that thought to make a new pickup line to use on a certain cyborg, the most divine scent known to man or faunus made its way to her senses.

When had she wandered so close to the kitchens? It didn't matter. Who was baking in the school kitchens so late at night? Who cares? Would she be welcome to partake in the sweet treats? Irrelevant.

She had been denied a shower by fate, truly this was the universe making things right. She quickly moved from the thought in favor of kicking open the wooden double doors to the cafeteria. She scanned the grand dining hall, finding it empty. Good. A better chance the cookies would be fresh. Unless... No... Could the cookies be gone already?

Across the room, the huntress spied the door to the kitchen with light flooding from its edges. So there was hope! With a whisper-shout of "parkour!" Ruby took advantage of her solitude and clumsily ran over the benches and tables between her and the kitchen.

As she stood outside the kitchen's silver swinging door, the chocolatey aroma had hit a new high. If her nose was to be trusted, as it often was, not only were there plenty of chocolate chips, but they were fresh enough that they were at an optimal level of gooey-ness. Whoever was responsible for this batch was quite the adept.

Momentarily forgetting the concept of being judged, Ruby made a show of kicking open the light door and adopting an entirely ineffectual, yet very cool looking, fighting pose. She spied the hefty plate of cookies and wasted no time in closing the distance between herself and the small countertop it rested on. As a connoisseur of cookies, she had no doubt that this was a masterfully made batch.

The dough was baked to a beautiful golden-brown, not a single spot overcooked. Plenty chewy, but with just the right amount of satisfying crunch. The chips were still gooey, as expected, and spaced appropriately so that both the chocolate and cookie would be properly appreciated.

Swiftly taking a bite out of the first cookie very nearly brought a tear to her eye. A superb mix of gooey, crunchy, and chewy melted in her mouth. This was truly the epitome of sweets.

"Well well well, what do we have here?"

Halfway through her fifth... fifteenth? Tenth. Her tenth cookie, Ruby's eyes shot wide open when she heard the monotonous voices behind her. She swivelled around, cheeks pudged and half a cookie still in her hand, and saw the source of the voices.

There were two young women, each in short, wide-skirted lolita-style dresses, red lipstick, high heels, and a feathered hair clip. The woman on her left was dressed in white, with elbow-length straight black hair and particularly sharp looking heels. The woman on her right was dressed in red, with a short black bob cut, and a fluffy fur boa across the back of her neck and shoulders.

Ruby had done plenty of growing in her time at Beacon, not enough to resist the temptation of cookies mind you, but getting caught red-handed like this made her feel like a kid again in the worst way. Operating on instinct, she popped the half-cookie in her mouth and chewed slowly. The pair each simultaneously raised a single eyebrow, the perfect synchronization unnerving. Ruby's eyes darted between the two, eventually falling on a glass of milk in the white twin's hand.

Following her gaze, said twin piped up. "So first you eat half our cookies, now you wanna take our milk too?" she demanded.

"My min'd meem do!" Ruby tried to communicate, but was impeded by half-chewed cookie. She began coughing after swallowing the cookies down the wrong pipe.

"Ugh," the white twin began ",fine, here."

Ruby took only a moment to consider the act of kindness before swiping the milk and chugging it with practiced efficiency.

"Sorry!," she gasped, wasting no time on breathing ",I just smelled then while I was walking around, and I could tell they were fresh, and nobody was around, and the universe owed me because I'm still all sweaty, and you guys got a lot closer, and I'm starting to sweat again...!"

Just as she had said, the twins had stepped forward, in perfect unity once again. Ruby had stared down Nevermores, Deathstalkers, Ursas, Beowolves, and all manner of nightmare in her huntress training, but being cornered by these two was a different game altogether.

Ruby was short, shorter than most anyway, and these two weren't exactly tall, but as they loomed mere inches from her, she felt like she was facing giants.

"Sorry!" she managed to squeak out as she squeezed her eyes shut.

"*chu*"

Ruby's eyes flew open to see the twins' faces pulling away from her cheeks. Her brain took its time putting the pieces together; the noise, the oily feeling on her cheeks and the warm tickle preceding it... They'd kissed her.

All coherent thought ground to a halt, no external stimuli was being acknowledged save for the slick sensation where the two women's lips just were. A thousand questions raced through her mind, none of which she had the capacity to try and answer. She had short circuited.

"Uh...," her mouth was flailing, and with no help from her floundering mind, all that escaped her was "UH?!?"

"Oh we couldn't be mad at that cute little face of yours!" the red twin said with a sweet smile before leaning in again and pressing a kiss to the smaller girl's forehead. Ruby's eyes widened and her blush deepened.

The white twin gently poked Ruby's nose before kissing it. "Oh you're so small and adorable, I just wanna take you home and make you my teddy bear!," she gushed.

With all mental defenses thoroughly crushed, Ruby imagined herself in bed, nestled between these two beautiful, inexplicable women.

Her blush deepened as the kisses and compliments and mental images kept coming. As the cookies behind her cooled off, Ruby Rose began to steam.

-------------------------

"Hey, where's Ruby?" Yang asked, stopping in the middle of pulling a loose t-shirt over her head.

"Could she still be in the showers?" Blake offered ",only a few of them are working, so the lines have been pretty long."

"That's true," Weiss paused, noting Yang still not having moved from her mid-dressing stance before continuing ",but even so, it's been far too long. Hasn't it been hours?"

"Eh, maybe she spotted one of the blacksmiths on their way to the forge," the brawler theorized, finally pulling the shirt on fully ",you know how she gets with weapons."

"That's true," the heiress conceded ",but she's never hasdled them for this-"

"Wait!" Blake cut in, looking at an arbitrary point above.

"What's up?"

"Do you smell that?"

At her urging the two girls took probing sniffs of the air and reached the same conclusion. Sweet and rich, their fearless leader had made them all familiar with that aroma in due time.

"Cookies." they stated in unison.

There was a light tapping on the door and Weiss was ready to begin a tirade.

"Ruby! How many times are you going to do this? You can't just-" she opened the door "-keep doing thi- *gasp*"

There in the doorway stood Ruby Rose, clad in her pyjamas, holding a tray of chocolate chip cookies, and wearing a mask of crimson lip prints. Across her forehead and cheeks, tracing her jawline and cheekbones, and peppered on her neck and nose were the remnants of an amorous assault. Weiss might've recognised the shade of lipstick on her partner's face were she not in stunned silence.

Her features spoke to the trance she seemed to be in, as well as the low, slow, mumbled gibberish that was flowing from her mouth. In a way, the sight was comical, one could almost see the hearts in her eyes and spinning around her head.

"Wow Yang," Blake chuckled ",maybe you should ask your sister for some pointers, huh?"

"Heh, always knew she was a chip off the ol block!" Yang responded, trying to hide the nervous pit in her chest.

"Um... guys?" Weiss called from the door.

Blake and Yang approached as Weiss held out a photograph. It was a school photo of Ruby, big enthusiastic grin and all, but stained with two lipstick marks. Weiss flipped it over to reveal the message on the back:

💋Who's next?💋

-----------------------

(And there's the first part. Not great, I know, but I really just wanna put this silly idea on metaphorical paper, y'know? Plus, I think we know of plenty of characters in need of a good smooching.)

[captainsuke]

relating to the home (domestic s4 fluff)

Adrian’s not prepared.

At first he figures he’ll be fine, he’s more worried that the house will turn into some sort filthy frat house than anything else.

Living with Deran shouldn’t be too much of a shock to the system.

And he’s right. For the most part.

But.

Well.

There’s a few things.

Maybe he was a bit naive, thinking of the weeks in Belize as a guide, sure he remembers Deran not sleeping much, but none of them had slept much. It’d been five weeks of playing hard, crashing fast and being up before dawn to catch the waves.

But it takes Adrian less than a week to realize that Deran might go to bed with Adrian, go to sleep with him, but by the early hours of morning, sometimes two am, sometimes three, he’d be staring at the ceiling.

It takes him another couple of days to work out how to broach the subject.

“You can get up, you know.” he mumbles sleepily into Deran’s shoulder, and Deran stiffened further like he hadn’t expected Adrian to notice his human pillow had gotten tense as fuck. “Hey, hey.”

Deran’s shifting now like he’s not sure what he’s supposed to do now he’s been caught out, but Adrian’s ready to nip that shit in the bud.

“Hey, come on, talk to me man.”

“I’m not,” when Deran speaks he doesn’t seem to know what to say, just that he needs to say something. “I don’t need to, I just, I don’t sleep much.”

It’s dark in their room but there’s enough filtered light from outside to make out the lines of each other’s faces, there’s enough light for Deran to see Adrian’s sleepy smile.

“If you need to get up and do something, then get up.” He presses his lips against the smooth skin of Deran’s shoulder, reveling in the way Deran leans towards him when he does. “Just come back.”

Deran rolls towards him head ducking down to burrow into Adrian’s chest, his fingers slip down along his stomach to tuck into the waistband of his pants, Just sitting there like he needs something to hold onto.

Adrian doesn’t know all of Deran’s secrets, stuff he doesn’t ask about, things that Deran can’t talk about even if he wanted to. Maybe Deran just doesn’t sleep much for mundane reasons, it doesn’t matter, Adrian decides as he rearranges himself to wrap his arms around Deran, to press his face into his hair.

“Just don’t leave without letting me know.”

So they figure out the sleep thing, Deran wanders the house, smokes outside staring at the waves, stress cleans worse than Adrian which somehow surprises them both when the night before Adrian’s due to fly out they end up arguing over who’s doing the dishes. Dishwater ends up all over the kitchen, a plate gets smashed in an impromptu tug of war and after they stop laughing they christen the kitchen table. Adrian stares at the water dripping from the sink as he lays on his back on the table, feeling sated and the right type of sore.

“I have to sit for ten hours on an airplane, you asshole.”

Deran looks up, unsticking his face from the sweat on Adrian’s chest, eyes hooded and unreadable.

“You can fuck me if you want.”

And Adrian’s brain short circuits for a moment, they haven’t swapped it around for what seems like forever, sense memory and Deran’s current naked proximity gives Adrian some pretty vivid images.

But Deran’s relationship with sex was a complicated beast and Adrian never wants to fall into the trap of sex as an apology again.

Deran’s hairs getting long enough for him to wind it around his fingers, so he does. Uses it to gently drag Deran’s face to his.

“I need a shower,” he tells him between kisses. “Why don’t you blow me while I do that?”

Deran smiles but his eyes flicker across to the mess they’ve made and that won’t do.

“That is,”Adrian tugs at Deran’s hair, gently, just enough to get his full attention back. “if you think you won’t drown.”

Adrian hopes at some time he’ll stop feeling like his hearts going to stop - like he’s been winded in the best way - every time Deran blushes and smiles that soft smile at him. He’s not going to survive this relationship otherwise.

And he’s really not because then Deran’s soft smile turns into the sharp toothed grin that destroyed all Adrian’s defenses at seventeen.

“I think I can hold my breath long enough.” He says into Adrian’s skin as he leans further down and then suddenly he’s picking Adrian up and that’s only going to end in disaster. They’re both sweaty and slippery, exhausted and Adrian weighs a tonne no matter how nice Deran’s arms look when they flex.

It does predictably end with Adrian knocking an ankle on one of the kitchen cabinets, and then Deran clips his elbow on the doorway which sends them both down into a giggling mess of limbs on the floor.

Maybe, Adrian thinks as he doesn’t even bother trying to untangle himself before launching himself at Deran’s face, maybe disaster isn’t so bad if it results in them making out on the floor at 3am.

They do eventually end up in bed. Deran’s hair is damp against the back of Adrian’s neck as he clings to Adrian’s back. He’d dropped off to sleep almost immediately, but Adrian’s found himself suddenly not tired, staring into the darkness, face smooshed up against the tangle of arms wrapped around him. They haven’t quite worked it all out yet. But they will. Adrian’ll take a crick in the neck every morning if this is how he goes to sleep each night.

He can have this. He’ll make this work out. He can do this.

In the morning the dishes sat cleaned and left to dry on the sink and Adrian would pick his battles and let Deran have the win this time, lets himself just be pleased that at least whatever time Deran got up, he was back in bed early enough to be asleep next to him in the morning.

He drops Adrian off at the Airport - Deran picks him up sometimes when he’s not too busy and it’s so normal that Adrian shouldn’t feel the thrill he does when he sees the scout is parked out in the arrivals area - Deran kisses him goodbye in the car before Adrian gets out.

“You should come in and make out with me in front of the TSA,” he’d laughed and Deran with pink cheeks joked back about that getting Adrian a full body search. That had hit a little too close to home and against Adrian’s best attempts Deran seems to notice the mood shifting. It’s Adrian’s fault this time though Deran doesn’t know it and Adrian doesn’t know how to tell him, can’t think of a lie that won’t make it all worse.

So he let’s it go, let’s Deran stare down at his lap with a shamefaced sort of look on his face, Adrian will make it up to him. When this is all over, when he’s free and clear and the DEA’s eyes are far from him, far from where they might accidentally cast across to Deran, Adrian swears to himself that he’ll make it up to him.

The last thing. (and it’s not the last thing because Adrian’s never going to tire of coming home – home - and finding Deran in the middle of doing something mundane, silly or serious, or a weird mix of all of the above, where he gets to learn something new about the man he shares - a youth, over a decade of stupid shit – a house with.)

But one last thing is Deran’s obsession with buying things for the house. Usually on his phone. In the middle of the night. When he definitely supposed to be sleeping. Adrian doesn’t know how many times he’s woken up to the soft glow of Deran’s phone, the slight movements in his arms as he swiped around the screen.

Are you on grindr? he’d asked once, more than half asleep, but the full body jerk and affronted look had woken him up enough to laugh at Deran’s discomfort. Eventually Deran had just flipped his phone screen to face Adrian and after the light had finished blinding him, he could see a set of wooden stools that’d look nice at their counter, and then swiping left to see the same seats but in steel.

He thinks he maybe makes a comment, says something to appease Deran’s very serious face before ducking his head down to hide from the light, and drift back to sleep but it’s not until the wooden seats are delivered to their door that he knows what the decision was.

After that Deran shows his phone’s screen slightly more often, he’s still a secretive little shit – no amount of time is ever going to stop him from keeping his phone face down when it’s on the table – but Adrian can handle that, it’s not directed at him, and until he sorts out his shit he doesn’t want to see whatever messages get passed between Cody’s.  He does like Deran asking for his input though, makes his stomach feel twisted in maybe a good way that a lot of his opinions seem to be the ones Deran chooses, like maybe he’s not dreaming too big when he thinks about where he is – where they are – and it lasting longer than he ever could have hoped when he was seventeen.

He’s tried to explain it to Jess, but she had her own complicated relationships and the two of them never could fully understand the other’s stance. So they both sat at the impasse of I am behind you one hundred percent but when it crashes and burns my surprise will be completely faked and only for your benefit.

It’s hard to explain that some of the things Deran does feels like a memory so old Adrian’s half convince he made it up. The new things he’s learning are like the first expressions of a man’s first steps into the light. Sides of Deran he’s not sure anyone else has ever been allowed to see, things Deran’s doing now that Adrian thinks he maybe kind of remembers from when Deran was a bright eyed cocky kids, who smiled more like he meant it, who’d be the first one to show Adrian something he’d decided was cool, who’d talk shit for hours just so he’d have Adrian’s attention.

The mature version of that kid makes Adrian feel things; his undivided attention, sharing a bed, Deran making breakfast, hell even the way Deran would just walk up to him sometimes and drop his forehead into the middle of Adrian’s back and just stand there, like the contact was the only thing keeping him standing.

All these little memories and moments Adrian wants to keep to himself. And he wants to make more.

[izukillme-moved]

New Assistant

A/N: TentenHinata drabble for @au-gust-august Naruto Event, Day 2 - Modern AU. Thus is a Workplace AU with Tenten as a weapons designer and Hinata as her new PA.

--

Tenten looks up from her papers as her office door opens. She's tempted to throw something in annoyance - she is working on the design for a new kind of gun - but falls silent when she sees the shy, demure girl entering the room. A curtain of dark violet hair, exquisite, blank lavender eyes that would've looked creepy on anyone else but simply gorgeous on this one, and an absolutely adorable blush. 

"I'm Hi - Hinata Hyūga," the girl stutters, fidgeting nervously. "I was t - told that I w - was to b - be your new as - assist - sistant, Miss Li Sh - Shan?"

My new assistant?! This beautiful girl?!

Tenten finds her bad mood suddenly gone, and a familiar warm smile graces her face. 

"Well, Hinata, it's wonderful to meet you. Please, have a seat. And call me Tenten."

Hinata blushes further. "Y - yes, M - Miss Tent - Tenten," she stammers. 

Tenten laughs. "No Miss. Just Tenten."

"Ah, yes, M - I mean! Ten - Tenten!" Hinata squeaks adorably. 

Tenten's heart begins to beat even faster against her ribcage.

Why must you be so beautiful?

--

Turns out Hinata is amazing at her job. Diligent, observant, quiet - she is the perfect assistant. She brings Tenten coffee after coffee without even having to ask, expertly fields clients who aren't wanted, and prepares paperwork even better than Neji used to do. Tenten has never been able to churn out this many designs in just four months. Hinata is an absolute dream in the office, she tells Neji, who beams on hearing her sing his cousin's praises.

Tenten's… office dreams about Hinata can be left to another time, in another, R-rated story. 

Sighing, Tenten shakes her head. Her buns are tight and cumbersome today, and she pulls out the dragon-shaped pins, allowing brown waves to cascade down to her mid-back. She clips back her hair from her face with the dragon pins and then she is back to work, pencil moving furiously over paper as she scribbles down a new design for an all-purpose military knife. Her stomach rumbles grumpily, reminding her that she hasn't eaten any breakfast this morning. 

She continues to draw, erasing here, shading there, ignoring the steadily louder groaning of her unfed stomach. 

"Tenten?" calls a light, angelic voice - Hinata's - and Tenten nods absently. 

"Yes?"

"H - have you for - forgotten break - breakfast today?"

Tenten's cheeks go pink. So her stomach was that loud, huh…

"I - yes," she says, clearing her throat. "I didn't eat this morning."

Hinata frowns cutely. "Th - that's not g - good. And you've been wo - working so h - hard, too."

Tenten shrugs. "Such is life, Hinata. I'll eat a large lunch." She picks up her pencil again, but a slender, warm hand on her wrist stops her.

"There's th - this place I us - usually stop at," Hinata offers shyly. "It's really nice. And - and your morning is compl - completely fr - free. I was l - late today so I d - didn't st - stop. We c - could eat t - together?"

Tenten stares, gobsmacked.

A cute girl is asking you to go out and eat with her.

Hinata's face falls. "I c - could get you so - some food from th - there if you don't w - want to go," she says quickly.

Dumbass! Accept, fast, before she decides you don't want to!

Tenten's brain stops short-circuiting, and she flashes a smile at Hinata. 

"You're right, I have been working a lot more lately. I would love to join you, Hinata," she smiles.

Watching the red bloom like roses on Hinata's cheeks is better than watching the actual flower blooming.

--

They've settled down and ordered, and Tenten can't tear her gaze away from Hinata. It's almost as if she's trying to make Tenten crush on her harder - looking beautiful every damn second she's breathing. Her eyes, her lips, her hair… Tenten could go on forever. 

She settles for a quiet sigh instead.

An awkward silence falls over them, and Hinata is the first to break it.

Her face is bright red as she looks Tenten dead in the eye and exclaims without stammering, "Tenten, please go out with me!"

Tenten chokes. 

"What?"

Hinata's face is maroon now, but she soldiers on. 

"I liked you since the day we met. I felt you were strong, confident, beautiful and amazing. I had a huge crush on you for so long, and I thought if I don't act on it and be the same shy girl I would miss out on life! So, I wanted to take a chance," she explains haltingly. "I just… Please, give me an answer."

Tenten leans across the table and kisses Hinata.

"Is that a good enough answer for you?" she whispers, pulling away. 

Hinata's response is scarlet cheeks and another kiss.

Tenten smirks to herself.

Thank God I forgot to eat.

[stusbunker]

Known: Hunters

A Supernatural Dark Fan-fiction

Featuring: Dean Winchester x Female OC, Dean Winchester x Demon!Reader

Series Masterlist

A/N: With respect to my readers’ devotion to the show and its story lines, I have included dates relevant to air dates for reference points. I try not to repeat information you already know, but please ask if something doesn’t make sense! xoxo Stu

Warnings: Physical and Emotional Torture, captivity, blood, demons, Hell, Leviathans, show level violence, Slow Burn. More warnings to come. Each chapter will have its own warnings.

Earth Date: November 7, 2011

Location: Rock Port, Missouri

There were things she had seen that could make a military general shit his tighty whities, but never had Chloe Collins seen the unparalleled shift from one being into another. Werewolves, Skin-Walkers and Shifters, none phased that seamlessly. The man took one look at Reynolds, a burly backroad hunter, and instantly took him down with a sleeper hold. And then he WAS Reynolds: voice, gait, everything a complete replica.

“Ah, come on CC, you know he’d been dying for a taste,” the thing looked down at her partner on the case and stepped pointedly on to his neck. “I guess he died for me to have a taste.” Her stomach lurched as it approached her.

Things started falling into place in the panicked walls of her mind. The weird economic booms, the smarmy politicians and their inspirational press conferences. The fact that civilians kept getting dumber by the day. These things were behind it, she wasn’t sure how or why, but there were too many coincidences to ignore it now. Chloe braced herself to square off with an attacker that had half of a foot and fifty pounds on her.

‘Another fucking Apocalypse’, she internally cursed. The unnamed beast reeled back, and its neck opened to reveal rows of teeth and a putrid tongue. Chloe stabbed with all her strength, her signature ceremonial dagger sank into its chest. It swung back, unaffected by the wound. She jumped back, trying to shake off the blow to her head, the one-of-a-kind weapon lodged in the beast’s torso. As she grabbed for the pistol in the waistband of her jeans, deep voices called for her to duck. Surprisingly, she listened, leaving the vision of Sam Winchester a clear shot to douse her attacker with a healthy cascade of industrial cleaner before Dean removed its head.

She had died, this was it. She died with the idiotic hope of a rescue; her memories threw some unexpected pair to her thoughts as her brain started to short circuit. CC closed her eyes and smirked at the way phantom-memory Dean’s lips had curled as he sliced through that black-oozing-shifter with a solid machete stroke. ‘Yeah, at least I wasn’t the only one who went down swinging,’ CC thought as she fell unconscious.

The familiar weight of an old quilt pinned her to the bed. A musty pillow case cooled her cheek as she rolled over, ignoring the world around her until the last moments of her consciousness slammed into focus. Chloe sat up, scrambling for her dagger and her gun. They were waiting for her, cleaned and within arm’s reach on the nightstand. The worn wooden floor led to a large open cabin where her rescuers were casually watching soap operas. It was all too neat and so glaringly wrong at the same time.

The super-shifters had been throwing the Winchesters under the bus for the most public and absurd crimes. They wouldn’t keep her alive, unless they needed her. She tried to justify their use of dead hunters’ faces for their vendetta, but it only resumed the throbbing in her skull. She fell back on the bed, the old mattress bouncing enough to draw the well-trained ears of the man-shaped beasts across the room. She had her weapons in her hands and perched on her knees as Sam stood to approach her.

He raised his massive hands in surrender, “CC, hey, it’s okay. It’s us.”

“Sure, it’s you,” she snarled. “Weird place for a couple of mass murders to be hiding out. Whose place is this? Why are you wearing my friends?”

“Chloe,” Dean’s deep voice caused her to blink, his hands mirrored Sam’s. The concern and honesty defying her fighter’s instincts. “Come on, sweetheart. We’re not Leviathan. Those sonofabitches are really bad for business,” his voice trailed off to Sam, who only shrugged.

Dean stepped closer and she cocked the hammer. “Why would we gift wrap your weapons if we were monsters?”

“Obviously they don’t do much to you, but all I need is to slow you down.” She threw her knife square at Sam’s chest, he barely spun in time, as Dean charged her gun hand. He shoved her hand up. CC got one shot off through the ceiling before Dean fell hard against her atop the bed, wrenching her arm back forcing her to finally drop the weapon.

“It’s us, CC, I swear. Let us show you, please?” Dean’s voice was tired, the last word said on a whisper. Sam stood back, playing with her knife between his long fingers, admiring the runes. His brow was pinched and his chin out, not sure what to say to make her see them in a better light. She nodded, frustration and confusion winning over their insistence.

The man rolled off her, letting her hold her weapon as they talked. Her eyes kept moving, checking the windows and furniture for quick escapes. Something she couldn’t shake was how he even smelled like Dean. They dosed themselves with her Holy Water, salted each other and even cut themselves with both the silver and iron edges of her treasured blade. Their final test was new, they assured her that it was for them, the Leviathan, and nothing happened once Sam and then Dean sprinkled a type of detergent over their opposite hands.

“Okay?” Sam offered, his big puppy dog eyes waiting for her to process it all. She shrugged, holding her gun over the pillow clutched to her chest.

“To answer your question, this was one of Rufus’ safehouses. Bobby brought us here once and when we had to go deep cover--” Dean leaned with his elbows on his knees, trying to remember the last time he had seen her. The past few years had been such a whirlwind, he had barely kept his head up for air.

“Wait, Chloe, let’s say we’re not Sam and Dean, or at least the Sam and Dean you know—”

“Sammy?” Dean’s groaned, rubbing his eyebrows.

“No, Dean, listen. Chloe, why is it so hard for you to believe us?”

She looked at Sam through squinted eyes, his soft tone just like the one he would use on victims’ families. Wary, yet not as distrustful as the first few minutes of their conversation, “because the Sam and Dean I know, are dead. They died stopping Lucifer and the Angels from frying the planet.”

That got their attention, Dean and Sam shared a look, Sam’s eyes brightening with the turn of events.

“Who told you that?” Dean’s voice was brass, obvious with disbelief.

“Bobby Singer.” Chloe spat, her head rolling a little with her certainty. Dean laughed, while Sam paused, but thought it out. She continued, “he said Sam had taken Michael and the Devil to hell himself and Dean—”

“And Dean what?” Sam drew a chair from the breakfast table and sat backwards on it, listening intently.

“was gone,” she finished on a rattled breath.

The brothers shared another look, while the woman stared at them, really and truly taking them in. They had aged, Sam was leaner, Dean’s eyes more lined. Monsters would have taken them as they were, not able to replicate something as unique and unpredictable as human mortality. “Well, it wasn’t a lie, but it wasn’t the whole truth, sweetheart.”

“I was in Hell, but got brought back,” Sam started, letting it sink in.

“And I left hunting, or tried to, had a bit of a domestic hiatus, you could say.” Dean shrugged, the softness of his smile warming the thick block of ice that had settled in her stomach.

“But, why didn’t Bobby tell me?” Chloe countered, trying to out logic their explanations.

“Bobby kind of has a soft spot for us, I think he wanted Dean to have a normal life and, well, I spent a year without a soul. He was protecting his own.” Sam offered, an apologetic grimace on his face.

“Yeah, let’s just be grateful you didn’t meet that Sam. Him, you wouldn’t have believed.” Dean muttered, getting up with a soft pat on CC’s knee. He went to the fridge for a beer.

“Dude!” Sam chastised him. “What is it 10 a.m.?”

“You want one?” Dean offered to Chloe, ignoring his brother’s judgement.

“Got anything stronger?”

“You know it.”

Earth Date: January 13, 2012

Location: Hell, A Never-Ending Hallway

This was worse because it was all an illusion. There was no end in sight, just enough progress to keep that minuscule drop of hope alive. You had to hand it to the king, this was a much more effective and hands-free form of torture. You patrolled the corridor, eyeing the prisoners, souls in every hue and stage of damnation. Your scaled flesh caused many to shudder as you approached; showing your true form was cathartic now. The years as one of the tortured long behind you as you suffered alongside the helpless masses as one of the enforcers.

It was still Hell, but it had grown on you.

Earth Date: August 20, 2012

Location: Odell, Oregon

The call rang on until the clipped voicemail message greeted Chloe, again. She angrily ended the call, biting back the curses at the stubborn man. If the phone had been ditched, it would have gone to voicemail instantly, or to an outdated disconnected message. No, Sam had kept his phone charged and on, he was just choosing to ignore her calls. They had never been close, but his blatant disregard ruffled her sense of mutual respect held amongst hunters. He needed a good head smack. Among other things.

What would Dean say about his little brother’s lack of manners? God only knows, Chloe thought as the familiar clutch of grief writhed within her chest.

 Earth Date: February 25, 2013

Location: Lebanon, Kansas

 “No.”

“Please? Just close your eyes, it’s a surprise.” Dean’s eyes widened, looking like a hopeful third-grader instead of a middle-aged scruff covered hunter. Chloe crossed her arms and shook her head. “Just turn off the huntress-ness, for like three seconds. Help a guy out here?”

“You’re not as cute as you think you are,” she muttered, closing her eyes dramatically as Dean rushed to slip the ornate key into the large metal door. She held out her hand and cleared her throat, expectantly. Sam chuckled beside her and she elbowed him. A warm calloused hand took hers, while the other gathered her at the small of her back.

“Alright, CC, welcome to our new place,” Dean, both proud and excited. She gaped, her mouth open in genuine shock. She looked at Sam, who seemed sick as a dog and then back to Dean who was grinning like a fool. Sam just shook his head, his hair fluttering as the door closed behind him.

“Ready for that tour?”

“Why are you even on this side of the country?” Sam asked as they waited for Dean to bring out their plates. He had insisted on playing host, another surprise for Chloe or just general hospitality from a man who had never had a permanent home? It was quite the coin toss.

“Honestly?” Chloe sighed, resting her feet on the chair next to her at the library table. “A cryptic message from Garth and boredom. Been trying to stay off the ol’ Angel radar, because, no thanks.”

Sam nodded, holding up his hands half in a shrug, half in dismay, “Yeah, tell me about it. Unfortunately, we don’t have that sort of luck.”

“Or good sense,” she added, giving Sam her questioning eyebrow.

“Fair enough. But, uh, you look good, everything going okay otherwise?” Sam cleared his throat, changing the subject from the Winchesters’ poor life choices. Chloe let it slide, ignoring the compliment and sidestep with a generous swig of her beer. She nodded, but before she could reply an exuberant Dean burst from the kitchen with two plates overflowing with homemade potato wedges and bacon cheeseburgers.

“Oh, he cooks too? I’ll take three, please,” she cooed underneath her breath, knowing full well Sam heard her. They ate quickly with large gulps surrounded by appreciative groans. The burgers were mouthwatering, and the fries seasoned to perfection. As Chloe played with the last of the ketchup on her plate, the boys debated their next move. Lots of big talk about Gates of Hell and Trials, she got the distinct impression that Dean was not so pleased with Sam bearing the brunt of the upcoming uncertainty. The Winchesters had always been on a higher echelon of hunters than CC or even most she had ever worked with. But this was big, after everything they had already done, she wondered if their mission had become another crusade. Perhaps that drive is what made them great, perhaps it is what cost them a majority of their friends and all of their family.

It was most definitely the thing that drew her to them since they saved her from that Leviathan. And it was the second most terrifying thing about them that left her questioning her sanity.

Earth Date: March 30, 2013 (Just before the episode Taxi Driver)

Location: Hell, Outside Bobby Singer’s cell

“You’re certain?” You asked the guard in a demonic dialect before peeking through the decorative metal inlay of the unlocked door, having grown over the years, your height allowed you easy access to loom around the bend.

“Everyday. They send someone in with a glamor to confuse the old coot. It’s always one of two brothers. Sam Winchester,” the growl in her voice broke off into a purr. There was still much trepidation over the true vessel of Lucifer, even demons had their kinks. “Or Dean.”

A name that had been barely a rumor over the last centuries, especially the years since the fall of Lucifer’s acolytes Azazel and Lilith and the rise of Crowley. Yet a name you would never forget. The king was a known consort of all manner of beings, from heaven to the scum of humanity. But to have a version of Dean Winchester in Hell where you could see him again? The prospect was overwhelming, even if it was a torment-intended simulation. You hurried back down the row of high priority souls, prisoners that had been won or stolen from Heaven. Souls that had done the most damage to the armies of Hell during their living years. Their pain resonated through the stone walls, sickly sweet.

Over the following months you left your patrols earlier and earlier, escaping to the dungeon that housed the humanly mentor of the man that had irreparably changed you. And each day you watched the various exchanges, smooth and cavalier Dean attempting to rescue Bobby Singer, desperate demonic Dean thirsty to spill the old man’s blood or broken and sobbing Dean begging Bobby to end him. If you weren’t so biased, the Sam illusions would have been equally as moving, Demon-blood strengthened Sam claiming he had found his true family, a preteen Sam begging Bobby to teach him how to shoot only to have his eyes darken and turn on his teacher or a Red-Eyed Sam, a poor rendition of Lucifer, but effective against the soft insides of their paternal figure.

You learned much in your time watching the torture of Robert Singer. He was an impressive soul, even after decades of torture he routinely told the imposters to stick it where the sun didn’t shine. Like any parent, he had a favorite, no matter how he tried to hide it. He preferred Dean, but that was because he saw his own emotional vulnerability in the young hunter. Sam was more like John, with whom Bobby routinely butted heads. His love ran deep, no matter who was favored or understood best. Which was why it was so easy to maintain the doubleganger inflicted agony. And your misery loved their company.

One evening, having missed a turn due to overly flustered messenger demons, you were later than normal to escape your duties and relish in the vision of Dean. The King was not pleased and therefore everyone worked to keep their heads down, patrols were increased, any charge was overly-minded. When you rounded the corner, one of the Sam Winchester doubles was barking at the soul of Bobby Singer and another was screaming that the other was not real. Well this was a twist, but then you saw them, bodies of your fallen brethren zapped from their human meatsuits. It was the real Sam Winchester, as you watched the hunter and the old man run away, you stood frozen. There was no way to salvage this without going toe-to-toe with Lucifer’s vessel who was also the only being Dean would do anything for. You let them go, hiding in the shadows, knowing there was something brewing above.

With the loss of your daily reminder of him from Bobby’s enforcers, your hunger for Dean only intensified.

tags: @dontshootmespence @because-imma-lady-assface @mrswhozeewhatsis @smi727 @sassykayla255 @dxr-supernatural-fanfic @supernaturalboi @dumbthotticus @eve05glee @veroinnumera @spn-dean-and-sam-winchester @forgettingthoughts @shokushuhime-stuff @fanfictionrecommendations-com @soullesscollection-world @igotdressedthroughthemess @thoughtslikeaminefield

Next Chapter: Topside Turvy

[team-science-mega-nerds]

30 Miles East: Chapter Two

One night, instead of drinking, Alex gets the brilliant idea to cut her hair. She’s bored, and Kara’s busy saving the world as a journalist for a change, so she just kinda goes for it. Her brain short circuits into panic when she sees what she’s done, and she is a second away from drowning herself in booze when she gets the bright idea to actually be an active participant in her own life.

Vasquez arrives about an hour later with hair clippers. But she refuses to actually do anything about Alex’s hair until she gets some quality cuddle time with Xena, and at least five minutes to laugh at Alex’s attempt at living out her teenage angst. Despite being so annoying, Vasquez is really good at doing hair, and as she’s clipping away, she kind of chuckles to herself. “You’re gonna look so gay.” Alex rolls her eyes, but when she turns around she’s actually stunned.

Vasquez has given her an undercut, and trimmed the rest of her hair just enough to give it a nice flow at the top of her head. “You like it, right?” Alex loves it. She loves it so much that she volunteers to cat sit for Vasquez next weekend, while she goes to some Con in Metropolis.

Her confidence is boosted when she stops by L-Corp, and hears someone shout “Damn!” through a conference room. When she turns around Lena is racing after her with a grin. “Alex, you look amazing.” They head toward her office where Jess actually drops her mug when she sees Alex. “Jess...you’re a hot mess,” Lena says before rushing over to help her clean up.

“Didn’t mean to cause an uproar,” Alex jokes. Jess blushes, and Lena looks between them laughing. When things have settled, Alex finds herself sitting out on Lena’s balcony munching on her lunch across from Lena.

This is...weird, Alex thinks. Mostly because a year ago she would never think that she’d be spending any time with Lena, let alone going out of her way to do so. But they both love Kara, and that gave them an actual avenue to connect, and their brains pretty much did the rest. Alex likes the way Lena’s always up for a challenge. She enjoys the hint of defiance that always colors their conversations. It’s actually nice to have a friend who isn’t constantly hovering around the subject of Maggie as if Alex will break if her name gets mentioned.

Because Alex did break, and she is broken, but that doesn’t mean she won’t find a way to keep existing. “Why didn’t you tell anyone that you were getting a haircut? You know Kara’s going to be upset about not getting to do fun before and after pictures.”

“I just kinda did it. Vasquez helped me look presentable, at least.” Alex runs her fingers through her hair, still loving the way it feels.

“Well, it’s so you,” Lena adds. “So, enough about you. I have a new project I’m working on,” Lena starts. “It’s basically an attachment for your bike.”

“It’s Ducati specific?”

“It’s Alex specific.” Lena says jabbing at Alex’s hand. “Kara has been worried about you, so why not make you safer?”

“She’s always worried,” Alex reminds Lena who shrugs, and goes into the details of a really kick ass attachment. Alex is just about to ask how soon she can check out the prototype, when Sam sticks her head out of the balcony door.

“Lena, the Russians are on the line, and-.” Sam stops suddenly when she sees Alex. Her eyes going a little wide. “Oh, hey Alex, I didn’t know you were here.”

“Are they asking about the merger?” Lena questions.

“Yes, and they think you’re going over their heads on the public park.”

“It’s a park. Parks have green space, right Alex?” Alex isn’t sure if she’s actually supposed to answer Lena, so she just kind of nods. She checks her watch, and sees that she should be going anyway.

“I should get back to work,” Alex says, standing up, “Don’t forget about the prototype,” She reminds Lena. “Oh, and be nice to the Russians, if I have to stop a nuke I’m gonna be really pissed off.” Lena waves her off.

As Alex walks past Sam, she gives her a smile. Simple, noncommittal, but nice enough. “I made brownies,” Sam sort of whispers to Alex.

“Brownies?”

“For the meeting tonight. They’re double fudge if...you’re interested.” Sam glances over her shoulder at Lena who obviously can’t hear them, but is studying the interaction through the window anyway.

“Okay.” Alex thinks Sam has a funny way of trying to get her to show up, but she admires the try. She also admires Sam’s sleek black blazer, black pants, and fitted white button up. The heels are a nice touch, and they make Sam’s legs look kind of amazing. Sam waves as Alex leaves, and Alex debates hugging her before she goes. She doesn't.

Jess blushes again, when Alex says bye, and Alex feels a little more confident during the rest of her day at the DEO.

Alex does go to the AA meeting. She surprises herself when she speeds past her apartment, and keeps going until she’s back at that stupid little church. She gives Kara a call and tells her that Xena needs her aunt for a few hours, and the sudden gust of wind she hears over the phone, tells her that Kara is already on her way to Alex’s apartment.

Catherine hugs her when she sees her this time. She says long time no see , but it doesn’t make Alex feel ashamed, just welcome. Sam is setting up the food table as Alex steps further into the room. “You showed.”

“There was food involved.” Alex knows it’s a bit of a push, and Sam knows that too, but she cuts a giant brownie out for Alex and hands it to her anyway.

Alex does actually talk a little this time. Her hands kind of shake when she admits that she is an alcoholic, but she finds her rhythm talking about Kara, and how supportive she was during some of the tougher years. She realizes about halfway through that she isn’t even really talking about herself or alcohol, just that she feels like she doesn’t know how to be the person everyone needs her to be. That really seems to resonate with Sam, because Alex can see the tears welling up in her eyes.

Andre makes a really big deal about a barbecue that he’s hosting the following weekend. It’s open to everyone, and their families, but everyone needs to bring something to the party. Catherine literally shouts “no alcohol though”, and Alex and Sam laugh in unison while they try and find a way to split up the remaining brownies.

Alex has fun, and it makes her feel like actual garbage knowing that she’s going to go home, and have to lie to Kara. Sam must sense Alex’s uneasiness, so when they’re walking to the parking lot, “My kid’s at scout camp this weekend. Do you wanna go get ice cream or something?”

“You’re trying to give me a sugar overdose,” Alex says with a smile. “Not that I’m complaining.”

“I know a place.”

“Fine, but I won’t be caught dead in a minivan until I have a kid of my own. You’re coming with me.” Alex reaches into the pack sitting on the back of her bike, and pulls out a helmet.

“You’re kidding.”

“Don’t worry, I’m pretty good at this.” It isn’t all that convincing considering Sam knows that Alex has driven the bike drunk, but she still reaches out, and takes the helmet anyway. They bundle the brownies, and put them into the bike storage, before they slide on. “You have to actually hold on.” Sam wraps her arms around Alex’s waist, and they head to a dainty little mom and pop ice cream parlor just a few miles away.

Sam gets a vanilla scoop, which Alex almost laughs at until Sam piles on chocolate chips, sprinkles, hot fudge, and strawberry sauce. Alex goes for the chocolate chip cookie dough, and puts on some marshmallows and extra chocolate chips. They find themselves sitting at a booth in the corner of the shop. “So do you want kids?”

“Huh?”

“You said that you wouldn’t be caught dead in a minivan until you had kids. Do you want them?” Sam repeats.

“Yeah, I guess. I mean...yes.” Alex looks down at her spoon. “My ex-fiance didn’t so hence the downward spiral.”

“Why didn’t he want kids?” That almost makes Alex laugh. “He”. She really was going to have to come out to every single person she ever met.

“ She had a rough childhood. Her parents kicked her out because she was gay, and I think...I think she just finally wanted a life for herself.” Alex sounded rehearsed, because she never quite understood Maggie’s reason fully. Sam was proof that a person could be successful and have a kid - apparently be an alcoholic too - all while having a pretty decent life. “I like taking care of people.” Alex eats another bite of ice cream. “Hilarious, I know.”

“It’s actually really...charming.” Sam says with a smile.

“So, what’s the deal with you being all secretive and shit?” Alex asks out of the blue. She knows it’s out of the blue because Sam looks totally baffled when the words leave her mouth. “You keep saying “my kid”. No names.”

“They train you well at the FBI, don’t they?”

“Yep.”

“Well, Ruby is very special to me. I just want to protect her.” Sam says it so directly, that Alex knows that’s all there is to it.

“Is there another parent in the picture?” That’s a sore subject, so Alex goes in to deflect for Sam. “Sorry, that was way too personal.”

“It’s okay. Ruby’s father really hasn’t been a part of my life for awhile now. He never really was,” Sam explains. “Fuck him.” Sam shakes her head at that thought. And Alex knows that feeling. Maybe not exactly, but when she’s not in a full on depression about Maggie, she’s angry at her. “Sorry.”

“Nah, you deserve to have some fire. It suits you.” Sam blushes, and Alex realizes that she really loves making women blush. She never really had the opportunity before, because Maggie was the one making her flustered. But now? New hair, new person, Alex thought.

“Your haircut suits you.”

“Oh yeah? You don’t really know me though.”

“What makes you think that Lena hasn’t told me absolutely everything about you?” Good point. “Not that she has, or actually would.” Better point . “She actually kept me very up to date on her life. I knew about everything and everyone except...you.”

“Funny, I could say the same about you.”

They go on like that for awhile. Sam holding things back, Alex doing the same, but it’s fun. Sam has a great laugh, so Alex lets some of her goofy side show just to hear it some more. They’ve breached casual by the time they’ve finished their ice cream, and on the way back to Alex’s bike, Sam seems to be kind of tiptoeing around something, and Alex starts to get impatient. She climbs onto the bike with Sam close behind her, but she doesn’t give Sam her helmet just yet. “You’ve gotten very quiet.”

“I’m thinking.”

“About…?”

“Your hair.” Sam lets out a breath against Alex’s neck, it sounds like a laugh. “Can I touch your hair?” It comes across playfully, but Alex briefly considers how bad it’ll be for her ego when she melts under Sam’s touch. Which of course she does as soon as Sam’s long fingers trail against her scalp. Luckily Sam is behind her, so she doesn’t notice how fucking embarrassingly touch starved Alex is. “It’s so soft.” Sam runs her fingers through the rest of her hair, as if she’s trying to find an imperfection, some tangled spots, but it’s smooth because Vasquez had insisted on her actually taking care of her hair at least.

“You sound surprised.”

“You put on a tough front, but you’re a softy. I can tell.”

When Alex goes home that night she convinces herself that she’ll actually try and go to another AA meeting that week. Assuming there isn’t a massive alien attack, she doesn’t fold under the pressure of lying to Kara, and game night doesn’t have her favorite whiskey.

For now, Alex can only manage small promises to herself. But it’s something.

Kara had been suspicious of Alex for a week now. Alex figured maybe a week and two days, but Kara usually didn’t sit on things for that long. (Besides not telling the entire world that she’s Supergirl, of course). But this was actually rather surprising. Alex found out that Kara had been asking a few questions behind her back, which didn’t mean much, except Vasquez seemed to think that Kara was worried about Alex’s romantic life.

Apparently, spending more than two days a week having a private life was way too much for Kara to comprehend, so Kara was certain that Alex was dating again. Not to mention the new haircut. All roads pointed to love, and Kara had been scavenging everyone in a desperate attempt at finding out the truth.

Everyone except Alex.

So Alex cornered Kara, and asked her if she wanted to spar, and Kara quickly jumped at the opportunity. When they got into the room, Alex turned on the Kryptonite inhibitors, and they both walked into the ring. Alex thought it was funny that Kara insisted on changing her clothes. Alex reminded her that training is to prepare for the field, and unless Supergirl was going to be running around wearing unicorn leggings and a tank top, Kara should actually keep on her uniform.

Kara ignored her, which Alex probably should’ve expected.

“We haven’t done this in awhile.” Kara says as they start circling each other. That makes Alex feel a little sad. She had been very wrapped up in Maggie, Kara had been wrapped up with Mon-el too, but still. They didn’t get to spend enough time with each other ever. It occurs to Alex as Kara is trying to sweep her legs out from under her, that Kara does actually look older. Saving the world has taken a toll on her, and so has loss. Instead of punching Kara right now, she just wants to hug her, and Kara notices the change in Alex’s demeanor. “What?”

“Nothing, keep going.” Kara’s gotten slower. You would think that after three years of training and fighting and learning, that she would’ve gotten faster or at least more precise. But Alex makes easy work of Kara, flipping her over her shoulders, and hovering over her. Kara was more free years ago. She didn’t have so much strain, all this pressure.

“I’ve noticed that lately your fights have been more rushed. You go for big knockout punches, and that’s it.” Alex helps Kara back up to her feet.

“Less risk that way.”

“Less risk for everyone else maybe, not for you.” Alex stares at Kara for a long moment before looking away. “You’re too afraid to make mistakes.”

“Are you saying I should fail more?”

“Yes, actually.” They start sparring again. Kara acts like she has something to prove, but her kicks are late, and Alex could be doing this with her eyes closed. “Clark’s a perfectionist. You never were, your emotions are what make you stronger.”

“Yes, sensei,” Kara says with a chuckle.

“You’re so weird.”

“Speaking of weird, Lena said that you and Sam were talking.” Kara tries to cover up the obvious prying by throwing an uppercut, but Alex blocks her, and kicks her in the side. “Okay, time out! Ow.” Kara holds her side, and Alex rests her hands on her hips, and laughs.

“Talking? As in saying two words as I was leaving Lena’s office?”

“Kinda. Maybe? She said it was more than two,” Kara looks at Alex pointedly. “She seems nice.”

“Sure.”

“And she’s really...tall?”

“Kara.”

“Yes.” Kara bites her nails, watching as Alex slumps back against the wall. “Sorry, I’m not trying to say anything more. I literally just think that you two could be friends. She’s new here, and Lena says that she’s kinda a museum buff, and you love museums. Plus she’s Lena’s friend, so she’s gotta be awesome, right? And it’s good to have friends, and Lena is sooo busy with work, so if she spends all her time hanging out with Sam, then I’ll like barely see her-”

“Wait, are you seriously trying to force me to be friends with some rando so you can hang out with Lena?” Of course, she was. Because this was Kara, and she had to always find the nicest way to get what she wanted.

“Kinda. I...wait, what did you think I was trying to do? Oh.” Kara frowned. “ Oh. Sorry, Alex, I don’t think Sam’s…”

“I’m heartbroken,” Alex deadpanned. “Why don’t you just, oh I don’t know, talk to Lena. Tell her that you miss hanging out.”

“I don’t want to bother her.”

“She’s your best friend. You can’t bother a best friend, or a sister.” Alex gives Kara a reassuring smile. “I’m here for you too. Whether you wanna spar or talk, don’t be afraid to ask.”

If Alex had actually known that Kara asking her to come over and “hang out” actually meant that they would be repainting her walls and fixing her window, then she would’ve definitely continued her X-Files marathon with Xena. And by they , Alex - of fucking course - means Kara, Lena, and Sam. Thankfully, Alex left Xena with Winn who was apparently building something special that was top secret, but he was very happy to have the company.

Kara threw a tank top at Alex’s face when she walked through the door, and told her to put it on. Lena and Kara were on window duty, which apparently consisted of them creating some kind of DIY stain glass effect, while Sam was taping down painter’s tape around the edges of the wall. This was the first time Alex had seen Sam dressed down, and her light grey joggers and black t-shirt made her look like some kind of dressed down gymnast, while Alex was sure that she looked like someone who was ready to fall asleep on a couch. Which was what she was planning on doing an hour ago.

Alex yanked off her shirt, and threw on the tank-top that Kara had given her. When she approached Sam, she had a sort of half smile emerging, and Alex thought it was really a good look for her. Alex peered down at the paint, and saw that Kara was going with a pastel yellow, and before Alex could say a thing, “It’s so the sun will reflect off it, and make the room really bright.”

“I figured.” Alex helped Sam climb onto a ladder, so that she could finish protecting the ceiling. It baffled her, how easily Kara could get people to do anything. Lena was obviously in love with Kara and Alex was forced to love her out of sisterly obligation, but what the hell was Sam’s excuse? Sam didn’t even know her, and here she was painting her walls. Didn’t she have a kid? Alex wondered what Ruby thought of all this.

“She’s really adventurous. She wants to try everything and right now it’s Girl Scouts. They are rushing to get their badges now because they want to outsell this other troop later in the year. Their leaders really discourage parents from being overbearing, which is something I’m actually trying to adhere to. I pick her up tomorrow morning at Three Rivers.” Sam starts pouring the paint into the paint tray, and grabbing a roller. She pushes another roller into Alex’s hands, “I’m not doing all this alone.”

“How did you know…?”

“People have always given me that look. They either think I’ve ruined my life by having a kid or that I’m ruining my kids life by having a life of my own.”

“I don’t think that.” Alex immediately regrets starting at the center of the wall because she knows that the corners are gonna be a pain in the ass later. “I admire the things you do. I’m sure Ruby does too.” Alex knows what it’s like to be judged, and she certainly won’t put Sam through that. “I don’t do free labor by the way, Kara.”

Kara gasps dramatically, and she and Lena say in unison we know . Kara assures Alex that there will be food, and lots of it in a few minutes. “Better be.”

“For two people who are so obsessed with food, you wouldn’t know it by looking at you.” Sam says making a point by nodding at Alex and Kara’s arms. “What regiment are you on? Steroids?”

“Boxing. And kickboxing. All kinds of boxing really.” Alex honestly hates having to listen to Kara lie because she’s so terrible at it.

“Is that how you hurt your arm?” Sam asks, looking at the fading scar on Alex’s forearm.

“Something like that.” Sam’s comfortable enough to just let it go. “What about you? I mean, I know Lena gets her exercise by metaphorically curb stomping men, but what do you do?” Lena lets out a “hey!” from across the room, but Alex ignores her.

“I do yoga with my daughter in the morning sometimes. I go on the occasional run too.” Sam shrugs a little, like she’s embarrassed to be put on the spot.

“Well, it seems to be working for you,” Alex says, and she can hear Lena shushing Kara so she can listen in. Alex likes the distance between them though, and she likes the way Sam pushes her hair back behind her ear. She is undoubtedly attracted to Sam, but she knew that the moment she saw her, now it’s just a matter of quelling that attraction for the sake of her own sanity.

For starters, Sam is really not interested in Alex. She knows this because Sam obviously thinks ( knows ) that Alex is a mess. She also knows this because Sam knows about all the baggage that’s weighing Alex down, and Alex could never imagine a reality where that would be attractive to anyone. Alex also suspects that Sam said something to Lena who then said something to Kara, and that was why Kara seemed rather certain about Sam’s sexuality.

Alex shouldn’t even be thinking about this. She supposed to be painting. “Thanks.” Alex finally hears Kara and Lena getting into their usual scream fests over whatever hot journalism topic is relevant this week, and they’re far enough away to not listen in. Alex chances a glance over at Sam, who glances back with a smile. “You’re staring.” Sam whispers.

“I’m thinking about Andre.”

“Ooooh, he’s like seventy. Kinky.” Alex nudges Sam’s side.

“I meant...the barbecue. I might go.” Alex looks over at Sam hopefully, “Now’s the time that you say that you might go too.”

“I am going. Ruby and I made these cheesy potatoes that will probably give everyone a heart attack.”

“You’re bringing your kid? I mean...she knows that you’re…”

“Yeah,” Sam seems very content with that fact. “I like being honest with her. I need to be.” Alex knows that Sam isn’t judging her, but with Kara and Lena in the room, Alex considers how easy it would be just to have some honesty for a change. “You should come, but you have to bring something, or Andre will do that thing with his face.” Alex has only been to six meetings and she knows exactly what Sam is talking about. “Do you know where his house is?”

“I still don’t really get this AA thing. I mean, shouldn’t we be not fraternizing.”

“What’s the point if you’re alone in the fight?” Sam says as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “This is different, but I love it. Sometimes we have to be reminded that we’re people, don’t you think? It’s better than being alone ‘cause that’s pretty much what got me in trouble in the first place.” Sam eyeballs her work, before asking to switch angles with Alex. “Give me your number.”

“Okay. Why?”

“So I can text you Andre’s address.” Alex immediately starts regretting the choice to give Sam her number, when she reconsiders the fact that she used to have a very bad habit of drunk dialing people. And it’s not like she was sober queen of the world, she just hadn’t had a drink in three days, and she was pretty certain that wouldn’t last because she knew that Maggie’s birthday was coming up, and they had this whole trip planned to go to Niagara Falls.

The food arrives, and Alex has to remind Kara - twice - that there are other people here who might actually want to eat too. Alex and Sam sit on the couch while Kara and Lena throw pillows on the floor, and half lay down. Halfway through another one of Lena’s work stories, Sam’s feet end up on Alex’s lap. She gives her a look that asks “is this okay?” and Alex nods because Sam is warm, and she looks comfortable, and she doesn’t want to make a big deal about anything.

Kara can’t resist the urge to make everyone uncomfortable so she ends up making a comment about how cute Sam and Alex look sitting there with paint all over themselves.

When they’re leaving Sam is the one that gives everyone hugs. She hangs on to Alex for a second longer just to say, “I’ll text you”, and of course Kara cocks her head to the side because she would be using her super hearing. Alex doesn’t have the energy to make up an excuse, so she just lets Kara make fun of her while they’re cleaning up the mess they made.

Driving home feels very freeing, but cold. Alex misses having someone to come home to. She misses warmth during the night. And as she’s falling asleep, Alex thinks about the barbecue, and Sam. She imagines that Sam will hug her, and she will be content, and Alex will finally be warm again.

Alex wakes up at four in the morning. She doesn’t mean to, but it gives her exactly seven hours to figure out what she’s going to bring to the barbecue. Alex isn’t used to bringing anything but booze to a party, so she wants this to actually be good. She doesn’t know how to bake, but she does know how to look on the internet, and pretend like she has some idea about what to do. She tries, and fails miserably.

It’s now six in the morning.

She could just grab something from the store, but for some reason she has some serious motivation this morning, and isn’t ready to give up. Alex calls Lena and isn’t surprised that she’s up, but is surprised that Lena offers to come over and help. Lena tells Alex that they’re going to make a pie, and as they set out the ingredients, Alex is certain that this is going to fail too. “I do know how to cook, in case you were wondering. I spent like half of my youth watching the Food Network .” And she’s right. Alex does all the easy stuff like cut apples and heat up the oven. Lena makes the crust, and a lattice top with practiced ease.

“Why are you making a pie?” Lena says it like the thought only occurred to her now, and Alex is comforted by the fact that Lena considers her such a good friend that she didn’t even question Alex’s motives before.

“If I told you then you’d have to lie to Kara.” Alex watches Lena’s face fall. “Exactly.”

“I can, you know. I just don’t like to.” Lena sticks the pie in the oven, and crosses her arms over her chest. “Are you in grave danger?”

“Grave danger that involves pie?”

“It’s been known to happen.”

“No.” Alex begins making a pot of coffee, while Lena sits on the counter. “And I will tell Kara eventually, so please don’t worry.”

“Okay.”

Lena will worry, and eventually being the cause of that will force Alex to admit what’s been going on. But for now, Alex is perfectly happy listening to music, and hearing Lena talk shit about how James buys all his shirts one size too small so that he’ll look as strong as Superman. They get a bit lost in talking about their relationship insecurities, and Alex has to hold back on her advice because she knows she’s bound to tell Lena that she and Kara are perfect for each other. When the pie is finally done, Alex says that she just needs to change her clothes really quick, but Lena is welcome to go through her stuff, and find an embarrassing picture of Kara or something.

When Alex reemerges from her room, Lena is flailing around on a stool, laughing, and trying not to shoot her coffee out of her nose. Alex walks over and sees that Lena has found a picture of Alex at prom. With a boy. In between giggles, Lena slides Alex’s phone towards her, and says that she got a text.

It’s from Sam, and Alex suspects that Lena already knows that.

[SAM]: Let me know when you get here, I have like 30 things to warn you about before you actually come inside

Alex is both disturbed and intrigued, but she mostly just wonders why Sam is there so damn early. Lena is chugging water, and complaining about how she laughed so hard that no oxygen got to her head for like five minutes. “A brain dead CEO, like we don’t have enough leaders like that as it is,” Alex mumbles. That throws Lena into another fit of laughter, which gives Alex enough time to respond to Sam.

[ALEX]: Why are you there early? I know Andre is basically our leader, but do we get extra sobriety coins if we show up early?

[SAM]: I hope so, otherwise I’m totally wasting my time.

[SAM]: I’ll see you soon? Drive safe.

Alex smiles a little at her phone, and Lena clears her throat loudly, before standing, taking a bow and heading for the door. “My secret pie making mission is done. I’ll see you tomorrow at game night?”

“Oh, yeah, I’ll see you then.”

“It’s at my house.” Lena looks very proud saying it. Alex is happy she took her advice. “Don’t be late.” As Lena leaves, and Alex begins packing up the pie to take to a fucking AA barbecue, Alex thinks that this is as weird as her life has ever been.

And she really really likes it.

And if you enjoyed reading or re-reading, here’s my Kofi

[kazhavia]

Maybe Kidge with the 35? ☆

35. “About the baby… it’s yours.”

“About the baby… it’s yours.”

“I know.”

Pidge snapped her up, eyes blown wide. “What?”

“I know,” Keith repeated. “I’ve known for awhile.”

“Then… Then why didn’t you—”

“I wasn’t going to force you to talk about something you weren’t ready for.”

“Oh? And what if I had waited until the only way I could get out of bed is to roll off?” Pidge scowled.

“Then I’d still be waiting around until you were ready to tell me.”

“Why? You’re not the patient type, and you hate dishonesty.”

“Because the last time I snapped at you, you still wanted to leave the team. Once was enough to show me that that’s not how I should speak to you when you drop a bomb on me.”

“But that was years ago…”

“And I haven’t done it since, right?”

Pidge sighed. “You’re dramatic.”

“And you’re terrified,” Keith countered. “I can see it all over you.”

“Well, yeah.” She gestured down to her stomach. “There’s an alien baby growing inside me and the father only shows up once in a blue moon when his blade duties allow him to. We’re not exactly in an ideal situation to have a family.”

When Keith visibly winced at her words, that’s when Pidge knew she made the mistake of speaking exactly what was on her mind and panicked.

“O-Oh god—Keith, I didn’t mean to—”

“No, you’re right,” he said. “You’re absolutely right.”

Her lips parted slightly as she stared at him wistfully. “I should’ve left you alone when told me to.”

“You did leave me alone, but I came to your room later that night,” Keith reminded her, clenching his fists. “And I said I wanted you.”

“Yeah, but, I should’ve—”

“It doesn’t matter now. What’s done is done.” He took her hand and could feel how much she was shaking. “The right thing for me to do is to be there for you and do whatever you need me to. I can have Kolivan suspend my duties until we can figure out how to raise our kid.”

Pidge’s breath hitched. “R-Raise?”

“Uh, yeah. Why are you…” Keith paused, suddenly understanding her confusion. “You weren’t thinking about terminating your pregnancy, were you?”

“I.. can’t say it didn’t cross my mind…”

He stared at her in disbelief and released her hand. “You can’t do that.”

Pidge glared. “What happened to you promising you’ll do whatever I need you to do?”

“That was for literally anything else—like going with you to every doctor appointment, take you anywhere you need to go, massage you any time you feel sore, pull your hair back when you’re puking, marry you—”

“Hoooold your freakin’ reins,” Pidge interrupted and blinked multiple times. “Marry me?”

Keith nodded like it was obvious.

“Where the hell did you come up with that idea?” she asked.

“Well, your parents always wanted you to get married before you have a baby—”

“My parents were raised at a very different time. This is not that time.”

“But it would make them happy, wouldn’t it?”

“That doesn’t matter if you’re not happy!” Pidge threw her hands up. “I’m not going to drag you into a commitment you’re obviously not emotionally invested in!”

“And what if I want to?”

“Then we’d be having a different conversation.”

“Okay.” Keith nodded in understanding. “Then, let’s get to that conversation.”

“Oh for crying out loud…” Pidge muttered and rubbed her temples. “Keith, I’m talking about love. Marriage is about love. It’s not meant to ‘make things right’. It’s not meant to force people into it just because someone got knocked up. It’s meant to solidify a relationship between people who want to spend the rest of their lives faithfully with each other. Do you understand?”

“I know what marriage is, Katie.”

“Alright.” She gulped, ignoring the heat surfacing on her cheeks. Why was he looking at her so intensely? “So, you understand why we can’t just get married? Even if I’m pregnant with your baby?”

Keith narrowed his eyes and averted her gaze, focusing on a random spot on the wall. Pidge watched him closely, feeling her heartbeat palpitating double time the longer the silence dragged on.

Just when she was about to say something, he finally spoke.

“Does the idea of marrying me bother you?”

Pidge was so taken aback by his question, her brain momentarily short-circuited.

“No,” she answered, voice rusty; as if she hadn’t used it in ages. “No, you’re exceptional in every way. Anyone would be lucky to have you.”

“If you think that, then why are you shutting down the idea?”

“Because you’re not in love with me. You only want to marry me because you think it’s right.”

“It is right. It feels right.”

“Is that what you’re heart is saying or your head?”

“Both,” he clipped. “Katie, answer me this—do you really think I’d make myself vulnerable to just anyone?”

“No.”

“Then why did you think I allowed myself to become vulnerable to you?”

It was at that unfortunate moment did Pidge feel something hot, vile, and fast coming up her throat. She immediately knew what it was and slapped a hand over her mouth.

Keith appeared to have caught on as well, because the next thing she knew, he was ushering her to the nearest bathroom and pulling her hair back and away from her face.

“Go ahead,” he gently instructed, rubbing Pidge’s back. “You’re okay.”

She pulled her hands away from her mouth and emptied out the contents inside her stomach.

[beckytailweaver]

Coco thoughts lately

This is (mostly) in response to @anotherweepingwoman and This Post but also some other things in general I’ve been reading (and you will probably recognize it if you’ve read the same things). It’s separate here because I didn’t want to hijack other people or Great Wall of Text so badly again. XD I’ve tried to be coherent but this will likely drift around a lot! It’s a lot of thoughts all muddled into one space.

(Disclaimer: I only got to see Coco in theater once. For the rest I must resort to vid clips that may or may not decide to load on my slow internet, until I can buy the disc. It's a good exercise in my memory skills.)

Héctor is a liar, but oftentimes he's apologizing for his lies. When I go into my headcanon-framework for his background, these fibs that come out may be old habit from an orphaned childhood. If he was raised, say, in an orphanage by strict caretakers, it would have been to his advantage to know how to put on a good-little-boy face and say whatever was needed to divert attention or stay out of trouble. If he was more of a rangy little street rat type, then white lies would have been a stock part of his survival kit. I think this habit of evading the truth would have worn down a bit once he had a stable home with Imelda (and she would insist on teaching their daughter honesty), but after decades of desperation in the bottom of the afterlife he's definitely back to street rat mode.

Ernesto lies too, and we've seen where that went.  I don't think Héctor has ever lied in such a way that was meant to harm anyone. Little fibs to his advantage, a disguise here or a sparkly promise there; never damaging gossip or deliberately hurtful untruths or a promise that could get someone killed. But he is a liar, and anyone who's known him long would know that. (This might also explain why Imelda seems so eager to believe he'd run off and never come home, whether or not Ernesto told her anything. Héctor is slippery and she knows it, but she'd dared to hope he would not be dishonest to her.)

Héctor acts his age, largely, I think because you are sort of frozen the moment you die: You get a skeletal representation of your body at the moment of death, with some decorative additions to give you individuality and mark who you are. Skeletal children don't grow, the old are forever elderly. While the visual/physical form of the body is bones, there has to be some kind of force to animate them, to process what goes on around them. Invisibly, I think, a sort of ghostly/energy echo of the body remains, and part of that is the echo of a brain (how else could they think and remember things?) which for Héctor is an imprint of a 21-year-old brain with its not-quite-complete neurological maturity. While he can learn and gain experiences, the structure of that brain is still going to process things in a 21-year-old way. Experience can shape his thinking and grant him wisdom, but at his root he's still young in personality. (Young people can be tired, cynical, and hopeless too.)

Héctor is a father, but he has never been a parent to a child older than 3-4. (Young parents grow with their first kids and learn things!)  "Rubbing shoulders" with Miguel may just be the only way he knows how to interact with young boys older than his daughter was. He does seem to be comfortable around kids and isn't flustered by dealing with them, which makes me think he was around a lot of them growing up (orphanage?) or ended up being That Kid in their small town who is all the children's favorite bro. He is the fun, gentle sort of person that children flock to, so it's likely he would sing and play with the neighborhood kids even up into his marriage. He seems pretty active and playful himself (when not desperate or on the clock, but you still see flashes of it), despite the crippling of being Forgotten.

Miguel wasn't mimicking Héctor to mock him, but because he wanted to walk "like a skeleton" and his nearest, dearest example happened to have the Forgotten condition of loose bones and an awkward limp. Miguel will imitate his new cool big bro! But in this case, Héctor is so used to being mercilessly ridiculed for everything that he takes it poorly on reflex, without realizing (perhaps not until he stops and thinks about it later) that Miguel meant nothing bad by it. The shove in response isn't really that severe for the horseplay that young boys can get up to. (It wasn't a punch or a slap or a kick or a grab, which angry men are certainly capable of.) But it is reactive in a somewhat immature way, same as his snappish responses to the musicians later on.

He let out that grouchy "how come he didn't invite you?" comeback to Miguel in the rehearsal area, but Miguel wasn't hurt or upset by it.  Kid didn't even blink.  (It was a pretty legitimate question from Miguel, even!) But I think the subconscious drift into familial familiarity made it more like the kind of snark Miguel gets at home all the time and he doesn't even pause.  It's Rivera snark, it just happens, nobody's really injured by it, on to the next subject.  They may use it to cover up their soft spots, and they all know how to take it as well as dish it out. Miguel had the proper Rivera response as well: Let it go.  He didn't keep digging in or teasing on this.  He might react with disbelief to some of Héctor's statements about knowing a famous guy like De la Cruz, but that's because he's already recognized Héctor as a consummate embellisher and knows better than to believe every word from his mouth. He never uses the lack of party invitation as a weapon or even brings it up again.

Héctor's poor actions as an "adult and disciplinarian" after Poco Loco can be attributed to, yes, his mental youth, and also I think to those edges of desperation that crop up many, many times all night long. That desperation, knowing that tonight is probably his last, is a poor help to an already-impulsive young man's mind. It makes his Ready-Fire-Aim even worse. It short circuits a century's worth of wisdom and (after)life experience in favor of urgent, sometimes thoughtless rushing. Yes, he is very deeply concerned with himself and his photo right now; he can't help it. He's dying and he's desperate and he needs to do this now, and however much he likes Miguel this dumb kid is on a clock too and doesn't even know what's important here!  Despite that he's usually a nice guy I definitely don't think Héctor is a total pushover in personality.  That whole night prior to the cenote we're probably looking at the shortest his fuse has ever been. And he still manages to be in general kind and supportive to Miguel (who has been alternately delighting him and giving him hell all evening).

I have a somewhat different headcanon about Héctor watching Miguel's slow fading to bone over the course of the night. I think Miguel did discuss his time limit with Héctor during or just before the face painting early on, but initially Héctor is understandably more concerned with his own deadline. As he comes to know Miguel better, he cares more. But he also may forget now and then, in his own urgent situation, until a look over the kid's shoulder reminds him that two hourglasses are trickling down, not one.  And he does care, potentially a great deal: "Your life literally depends on you winning!" He didn't even mention the photo until after, when the family thing came up.

Genuine Héctor...definitely makes numerous appearances through the night. Most of his performance-art is for guards and gatekeepers, wheedling to people he needs to get past who might cut him some slack. Héctor being all super extra nice to Miguel during the face paint and explanation is definitely performance. He does a lot of performance with the Shantytown Crew, putting on a happy-go-lucky face. His Frida impersonations are absolutely performance, quite deliberately so!

However, Genuine Héctor comes out surprisingly fast around Miguel. The kid worms his way into a position of camaraderie pretty darn quick. Perhaps this is due to Héctor's loneliness making him open to someone who could be a real friend, or maybe it's genetic similarity gently drawing them to trust more easily. Most of the Genuine Héctor moments are in Miguel's proximity, possibly not only because the kid is the other leading character of the film; a lot of his genuine moments aren't just in proximity to Miguel, but in response to him.

Genuine Héctor generally doesn't come with the overbearing grins, theatrical body actions, or higher, wheedly tone of voice.  Genuine Héctor is in the casual questions, exasperated eye-rolls, short-tempered grumps, dramatic sighs, epic grouchface, snappy comebacks, freely teasing, warm encouragement, playful dance teaching, melancholy stillness, angry desperation, grieving rage, tearful hopelessness, clear relief. Those moments when Héctor is not keenly watching the people around him as targets he needs to con. (There's a difference in his gaze; keep your eye on it!)

Not all of his performance is negative or self-serving, either; sometimes it's just because a nervous kid needs a pick-me-up and Héctor can put on a smile for that.

Face painting scene—lots of performance, but some real warmth. Walking with Miguel, the shove—no performance, pure grumpy. Talking to Ceci—plenty of performance for deference, Ceci is a gatekeeper. Rehearsal studio—mostly genuine; no point in faking the musicians, they treat him like crap no matter what he does. Going down to Shantytown—performance, especially off the ledge! With Chicharron—started as performance, became genuine real fast. Trolley to the plaza—performance to get around truthtelling, but also to act encouraging. Waiting for a turn onstage—no performance until okayokayokay and he goes into another encouraging spiel.

Some of Héctor's best genuine moments are on the Poco Loco stage. Sure, he's performing, but that's genuine Héctor, not a performance. Not during the song. He's not watching the audience—he's watching Miguel. And then he's playing with him. There's no con in that music. That was all Héctor and Miguel having fun with each other.

Afterward, the argument...no performance. None. It's all very real exasperation and anger fueled by the same old desperation. The argument hurts both of them because it tastes like betrayal. ("I told you I needed to cross tonight!" "Well I told you it has to be De la Cruz!") They both pulled lies on each other (taste of your own medicine!) and ran face-first into a mirror.  Shortsighted demands and lack of explanation, and the whole thing goes down the drain.

As a kind person, we never see Héctor use force to get across the bridge.  He did not grab or physically coerce Miguel in any way to take his picture there; he used only words. Even when things came to a head and he was angrily trying to drag the kid back to his family, it was half-hearted at best (and no more than we've seen anyone in the Rivera family do with recalcitrant children) and Miguel slipped out of his grip in a heartbeat.  (Maybe he's getting too weak to hold on; maybe Miguel is too heavy for him to drag without lifting.) I'd bet money that Héctor has never threatened physical injury or actively harmed anyone in his pursuit of crossing; that he's never used a weapon or taken anyone hostage to try to force his way across. I doubt such things would even occur to him!  His entanglements with the crossing guards have all likely been evasions and brief tangles where he's trying to disengage. I'd wager that night that Ernesto is the first person he's actually attacked with intent to harm in a very, very long time—if ever.

One of the saddest things is how Héctor has been denied musical joy for so long.  "Stupid musical fantasy" is mainly because his turned out to be.  He's also lost perspective on this: To a child, these things are huge. Like, music is everything. Miguel has his family, but they're...in a way, background, they've always been there, and in his mind always will be.  He doesn't want to leave them for music, he wants to find a way back to them with music on his own terms.  Family should support you, but Riveras have made music into an all or nothing deal. (What would they have done, if the LoD journey hadn’t happened, if truth hadn't come out and Miguel refused to give up music? Would they have disowned him or otherwise banished him?)

Héctor likely had little or no family before the one he made for himself, and going back to them would not have meant giving up music altogether.  I think at the point of their argument, Héctor failed to realize (or had not been informed of) the position Miguel is in.  Héctor was giving up a fond dream of musical fame to go back to his small town family and find a local job he could do while continuing to play music for recreation and additional income.  It's really not the same as Miguel going back to (or being forced by curse conditions) an existence centered around a shoemaking family defined by its enforced silencing of music.  In that sense, Héctor was giving up fame and money (Ernesto's priorities), not music; Miguel would be losing music entirely, for the fame and money afforded by the Rivera shoe reputation.

It puts a different spin on their respective stories to think of it that way.  They both love their families and giving them up permanently isn't even part of the equation.  The real culprits/sacrifices here are wealth/reputation and music.  And before we get into "But Héctor left his family!" let's just pause: Héctor did not abandon his family, he went on a business trip!  He fully intended to return, and the fact that he didn't—sooner or later—is entirely due to Ernesto's choices.  It's incredibly sad that Ernesto decided to kill him, and equally as sad that Imelda was so eager/willing to believe that he would abandon them.  Poor guy just can't catch a break at any point in his life (or afterlife).

As a somewhat related postscript: I think it's a bit funny that people like to bring this up, since "Go for your dreams!" is a big motif in modern (especially American) society. We're pretty much expected to leave our families behind to achieve what we want. Big education, big job, big house, the spouse we desire, the city we want to live in, the generation gap we can't abide...basically the whole point (so far as I was told) is to grow up, move out, leave the old folks behind (call a few times a year, and visit on some holidays), and achieve our dreams no matter what.

What Héctor was doing—going on a business trip for a job or potential job—is absolutely nothing unusual to what goes on every day: People with spouses and children temporarily leave them to go on business trips, they go on military tour, they go on band/performance tours, they commute or move to another city for half the year for work...and this is considered normal. Not ideal, but pretty normal.  (Even when Héctor was alive, people would at times have to go far away to make money to send to their families.)  Maybe it wasn't favored in Héctor's time either, but I find it rather ironic that people give him hell over it now!