#sad i never got to meet em properly but it was so sweet of my mates to do that for me ;w;

[sammyloomis]

I THOUGHT ID LOST THESE IN THE MOVE AGES AGO AAA

[davidlikesguys02]

On A Very Special Episode...

M/n= Male name

word count= 2,847

GIF not mine also just Imagine that's you and Vision.

You're pacing around the living room rocking Tommy “Sweet, sweet Tommy, don't you wanna sleep? Daddy wants to sleep.” you sigh “if you go to sleep, I promise you will be my favorite twin.” behind you Vision is coming down the stairs “oh, come on now, darling. You know we love them both equally.” “Well, don't tell him that” Vision chuckles. “No luck with Billy”

“Tried reading to him, but for some reason, Charles Darwin’s the descent of man made him crying even harder. Oh. care to dance, darling?” “oh” you both chuckle. “It's almost like we're on a date.” “mm! Keep it down, lads, I was about to get my leg over.” you chuckle. “Vis?” “Hmm” “would you mind grabbing their binkies?” “Oh of course not. Binkies all round, I think” you and Vision set the twins down in their cribs.

Vision walks towards the kitchen “Now, I know parents aren't supposed to take shortcuts, but I think this situation calls for one, don't you?” the babies continue crying “so, go to sleep, my babies.” you move your hand but nothing happens “and go to sleep” you try again. The twins begin giggling “well, I don't think its very funny. Why won't you do what I want?”

“What's that, dear?” the babies start to cry again, you turn to see Vision has the binkies in his ears “that is not where those go” you grab the binkies and clean them “noise cancellation is not their primary function?” you put the binkies on the babies mouth and they stop crying “look, I think it's..” the twins shoot them out and start crying again.

“Vis?” “Mm” “what are we doing wrong?” “Oh don't worry dear.” Vision kisses your forehead “well figure it out. Perhaps we all need more time to get to know one another.” “maybe. Or maybe we just need some help.” the doorbell rings. “Oh” Vision walks over to the sofa and grabs a pillow to cover himself. “Hiya, kids” Agnes entered through the door.

“Oh, Agnes!” “Agnes, I was just fluffing this pillow. With my face” “oh, I was on my way to Jazzercise when i heard your new little bundles of joy were on a sleep strike.” “oh? Who told you that?” Vision asked, “uh, my ears.” Agnes chuckles, “Anyway, Auntie Agnes is here and I've got a couple of tricks up my sleeve?” “oh Agnes you're a lifesaver.” “aw”

“Very well. But be careful of their belly buttons and remember to support their heads, and when was the last time you washed... Actually, you know what? It would be... Just... Maybe we better not.” the babies continue to cry, Agnes turns to you “um...uh… Do you want me to take that again?” you turn to look at Vision and turn back to look at Agnes “uh… I'm sorry?” “You want me to hold the babies. Should we just take it from the top?”

Vision chuckles awkwardly “what?” you chuckle “oh don't be silly. Vision, lets… let's let Agnes give it a try.” you chuckle nervously “fussy babies, meet buns of steel. We dare you to stay awake” Agnes and you both chuckle. “M/n” Vision motions for you to follow him “what was that about?” “what was what?” “what was what? That, that with Agnes just now.” you turn to look at Agnes and see that she's rocking the twins

“Well, I think she just got confused for a moment. She seems fine now.” you turn back to look at Vision “but what she said, the way she looked at you?” “how did she look at me?” “well, I dint… oh.” you turn back to look at Agnes she was spraying something over the twins “Lavender. It's supposed to have a calming effect. Ralph sprays it on me every night. But there's no taming this tiger..” she chuckles “it's so strange”

You start to whisper “that's not fair. It's not Agnes fault that she has an unusually high libido” “M/n did you really not see what I saw?” there's a thud behind you two “oh. Don't mind me. I'm just looking for your dark liquor.” “what?” “not for me. For the twins. What kind of babysitter do you think I am? I'm just gonna go and check in there”

You turn to Vision “Vision, the boys haven't slept in days. You and I both need a break and Agnes is just being neighborly, that's all.” the twin’s stopped crying “do you hear that?” “hear that?” “absolutely nothing” you gasp, Vision takes your hand and you two walk over to the cribs, “they finally fell asleep” “they're empty” “then where are the twins” “dad?, daddy?” you gasp “huh”

Agnes sighs “kids” she chuckles “you can't control em. No matter how hard you try” “well, hi” “hi” both you and Vision say “how are you doing, baby?” “aw”

You wander the world with a vision Of what life could be But then the years come and teach you To just wait and see Forces may try to pull us apart But nothing can phase me If you're in my heart Crossing our fingers, singing a song We're making it up as we go along Through the highs and the lows We'll be right, we'll be wrong We're making it up as we go along And there will be days We won't know which way to go But we'll take it higher You're all I desire When the going gets tough When push comes to shove We're making it up 'Cause we got love We got love We got love We got love Baby, we got... M/nVision

You walk around your house looking for Tommy and Billy. “Tommy, Billy?” you walk through the door and see Tommy and Billy standing in the kitchen “you know, I don't miss the crying, but jeez Louise, did you have to learn to walk? You two never stay put. Unless you're innocently forming a human wall in front of the kitchen sink.” someone sneezes “bless you” “Thank you” both Tommy and Billy say.

There's a soft bark “now tell me which one of you just barked? Scoot'' you gasp “oh, boy. waiter , what's this canine doing in my kitchen sink?” you turn to look at the twins “the doggy paddle?” “Can we keep him, daddy?” “Well, I'm sure his owners miss him very much. Come on.” you grab a towel and grab the dog and start to dry them “huh. There really is no collar?” “Can we keep him?”

“He was outside. Crying, alone.” “Now, boys, taking care of a living thing is a big responsibility. Dogs need food, exercise, training, belly rubs, and cuddles. And kisses between their little ears.” “morning, M/n. morning, boys.” you show Vision the dog “Good morning, unfamiliar wet animal.” you chuckle “who is this?” “we're not quite sure. Why so formal, honey?”

“Oh, it's just a precaution really. I had a hunch someone might pop over.” the back door opens and Agnes walks through “hi, kiddos” “with exactly the item we require” “my kitchen window told me someone got a new pooch.” the dog starts barking “did you name him yet?” the dog starts sniffing an outlet “how about sniffy” “oh” Agnes chuckles. Sparks start to come from the outlet causing the dog to yelp and run away. “How about sparky?”

You chuckle and hold out your hand “well, should we make it official?” you move your hand and a dog collar appears tommy takes the collar from you. “M/n” “hmm” “Agnes was right there!” “Well, she didn't notice. She didn't even notice when the boys went from babies to five-year-old's” “that's not what we agreed upon. You made no effort to conceal your abilities.”

“Well, I'm tired of hiding, Vis. and maybe you don't have to either.” you take your hand and start to crease his cheek “M/n, we are usually so much of the same mind. But right now… what aren't you telling me?” “so, is sparky our dog, daddy?” Tommy asks Vision “what?” Sparky starts to whimper.

“Boys, your father and I don't think you're ready to properly care for an animal until you're at least…” you turn to Vision “Ten” he coughs “Ten” “ten years old” you show them 10 fingers. The twins look at each other and smile “wait, now hang on there a minute…” “wait, no, no, no.” “...you young whippersnappers.” “no, no, no” you gasp as the twins age up. “Lets just hope this dog stays the same size.” Agnes chuckles “woof, woof”

You're in the living room with Tommy sitting next to you on the sofa “sit, Sparky. Now spin. Good boy” “oh bravo, Billy you weren't so bad either, Sparky” you and Tommy both clap “that's was radical. Where's dad? We gotta go show dad!” Tommy got up and walked towards the kitchen Billy followed behind him. “Oh, hes… hes at work” “huh?” “It's Saturday” the twins turn to look at you “no, it's not. It's Monday” “this morning was Saturday.”

“There was an emergency at the office and your father had to go in. end of story. look , he just… he needed a distraction.” “from what?” “from us?” “no! No way! No” you get up from the sofa and walk over to them “sometimes” you start to walk them over to the sofa so you can sit “your dad and I aren't on the same page, but that's just temporary. Like the two of you, you might fight over toys, but he's always going to be your brother. And he is always going to be yours. Because family is forever.”

“Do you have a brother dad?” “I do. Yeah he's far away from here. And it makes me sad sometimes.” Sparky begins to bark and he runs toward the door. “Hey , sparky, what's up boy?” sparky begins to growl “something scaring him” “stay here” you tell the twins and walk outside. You see a drone and you can hear a voice “M/n this is captain Monica Rambeau. Can you hear me? I just want to talk. That's it.” you look up at the drone and your eyes begin to glow red.

You use your powers to take the drone down and you grab it and start walking towards the outskirts of Westview. You can see the force field you put around the town and start to walk through it. You come out on the other side to see a camp of some sorts. “Is this yours?” you throw the drone at Haywards feet, you can still see your powers covering the drone. They have men and women armed around pointing their guns at you.

“The missile was just a precaution. You can hardly blame us. M/n” “oh, I think I can. This will be your only warning. Stay out of my home.” “I wish it could be that simple. You've taken an entire town hostage.” “Well, I'm not the one with the guns, Director.” “but you are the one in control.” “you're still here?” you start to see the red ball of energy around your hand.

“M/n, I didn't know the drones were armed. But you know that, don't you?” she begins to walk towards you “A town full of civilians. And you, a telepath, brought a S.W.O.R.D. Agent into your home. You trusted me to help deliver your babies. On some level, M/n, you know I am an ally. I wanna help you.” “how? What could you possibly have to offer me?”

“What do you want?” “I have what I want and no one” you look at Hayward “will ever take it from me again” you raise your arm and see the familiar red glow around the armed men. They all turn their guns at Hayward and you start to walk away. “Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa stand down!” “M/n” “Stand down”

you use your powers to change the force field you put around making it glow red you turn around one last time and walk through again.

“Sparky! Come on boy!” “sparky, sparky” you're walking around with the twins looking for sparky. “hey , what's the trouble little dudes?” “we can't find our dog” “ah, don't worry. He's sure to turn up. Your dad wont let him get far. Sir.” “I don't know where he could've gone” you tell the twins “here, boy, Sparky! Sparky!” you hear some rustling near some bushes “Sparky”

Agnes pops up holding something that appears to be wrapped “sparky”. Agnes sighs “I… I didn't wanna come until id wrapped him up.” “What happened to him?” you ask “found him in my azalea bushes. Don't know how many leaves he ate. I didn’t find him until it was too late. Oh…. Tommy. Billy, I'm so sorry.” you turn to look at the twins and see them looking at each other and nodding.

“Wait. Don't. Don’t” they look at you “don't what?” “don't age yourselves up. The urge to run from this feeling is powerful. I know.” “It's too sad” “you can fix anything, Dad. fix the dead.” “what? no” “you can do that?” you turn to look at Agnes and turn back to the twins “I am trying to tell you that there are rules in life, okay? We can't rush aging just because it's convenient.” you chuckle “And we can't reverse death. No matter how sad it makes us. Okay? Some things are forever.”

You can hear Agnes sigh behind you “you said family is forever.” “He is family. Bring him back, dad” “bring who back?” Vision looks over at Agnes “oh, boys. Come here” the twins walk over and hug Vision. Later you are picking up some toys and you turn to see Vision walk through the back door. “How are the boys?”

“A little heartbroken, but they'll be alright” “well, it's not often you get a dog and bury them the same day.” “Well, life moves pretty fast out in the suburbs.” you grab the basket of toys and take it over to the counter “I spoke with Norm” “Oh?” you look over at him confused. “I unearthed the man's suppressed personality and spoke to him free of your oversight. He was in pain, M/n”

“Vision…” you chuckle softly “listen, can we just…” “what? Watch tv? Turn in for the night so you can change everything over again? No, M/n. you can't control me the way you do to them” you look at him “Can’t I? I'm going to bed” “no! We're not done here. What is the Maximoff Anomaly?”

“The what?” “I have to believe that this, whatever this is, was subconsciousness at first and you only recently became aware of it.” “aware of what?” you walk out of the kitchen “Norm has a family, M/n” “he has a family, and he can't reach them because you won't let him reach them!” “I don't know what you're talking about” you turn to look at him. “Stop lying to me!” Vision begins to float.

The familiar red glow around your hand appears and you begin to float in front of him “This, all of this is for us. So let me handle it.” “What is outside of Westview?” “you don't wanna know, i promise you.” “you don't get to make that choice for me M/n” he points at you “you've never talked to me like this before” you start to slowly fall back to the ground.

“Before what?” Vision raises his Voice “before what? I can't remember my life before Westview. I don't know who I am! I'm scared!” you look up at him “you are my husband, you are Tommy and Billy’s father. Isn't that enough.” Vision slowly comes down “M/n, why are there no other children in Westview.” you walk over to the sofa and sit down “oh, god. There are just stop it.”

“No. no. the playground stands empty every morning I walk to work. Why? Tell me why?” “ Do you really think that I am controlling everything? That I am somehow in charge of everybody in Westview? I'm walking their dogs, mowing their lawns, getting them to dentist appointments on time? I mean, I…” you chuckle dryly ”I don't know how any of this started in the first place.”

“M/n, what you're doing here, it's wrong” he walks around and kneels in front of you “I…” “It's wrong” the doorbell rings, getting the attention of you and Vision “I didn't do that. I… you don't believe me.” “M/n, i want to, but at this point, I'm ignoring statistics entirely.” the doorbell rings a second time you get up and walk over to the door. You open the door, and are shocked “M/n who is this?”

“Long lost bro gets to squeeze his stinking brother to death or what?” “Pietro?” he nods, he opens his arms and you and hug him “who's the popsicle?” he points and Vision.

[cosmicbash]

Would you maybe write something about a scenario where Em and Colson are hate fucking and Em never spends the night, but on a particular occasion, Colson is super sad/stressed and (while trying desperately to hide it) starts crying from the idea of Em leaving, so he stays and is really sweet? (Also, sorry if I went this twice–my computer's being really weird and I can't tell if it did it already!)

This isn't perfect but!! Everybody is on an angst kick and I wanted to join in so I'm using this ask 😤😤

They aren't dating.

Marshall's cock is drilling in and out of Colson's ass but that doesn't mean they're together.

It wasn't supposed to escalate to this. He's not supposed to be manhandling a stupidly long leg up in the air or swatting away the other man's helpful hands while he switches their position for the 3rd time. Hips never stopping their rapid punching forward to draw out more and more curses.

Paul wanted them to mend their beef. Come to a mutual ground of disdain at the minimum. Not bash heads together so many times over their short meeting they end up in bed together instead. Teeth and fists completely changing their plan of attack.

"F-fuck! Right there-" Marshall's definitely not supposed to be watching this annoying twink throw his long neck back and whine. Colorful arms stretching up above him to uselessly grapple onto the pillow behind his own head. "Please!"

This wasn't supposed to be the 10th or 12th time they did this.

"Shut up-" his voice is scratchy when it should be calm. "The whole floor is gonna hear you-" Paul thinks they're here mending bridges and discussing a feature.

"Then fuck me right-" Colson's voice is just as rough sounding. Marshall hates that he knows the difference between the twink's usual tone and this ruined one. How it will only get this way after he's forced his cock down the brat's throat one too many times in their foreplay. "L-learn- ah- where to stick it without directions dude!"

"Shut up." He's bruising Colson's thighs now. The dark red indents from his fingers are going to turn purple by the morning. Not that he's ever seen them do it in person at least, but the blonde never fails to send a picture over text every morning after. "Maybe if you tightened your pussy up we'd both have more fun."

Colson's chest is arching from his harder thrusts now. Voice climbing a little higher almost mockingly with each moan as he slams to the hilt.

Marshall wants to kiss him. Smother that annoyingly pretty mouth with his lips but it's not possible. Not in this position where the other man's unnecessarily large stature puts him so out of reach.

That's a good thing though, because they really don't need to be kissing. A few heated pecks here and there to get the blood pumping is one thing, making out while he fucks the blonde speechless almost feels too intimate to consider.

Theres no space for that in these brief hook ups from hotel room to hotel room, not when they still hate eachother too much for any of the burning heat they have between them to simmer down into a comfortable warmth.

"Stupid whore." His lips are pulling back in almost a snarl this time when he forces Colson over onto his stomach instead. Cock slipping free and almost losing the condom he's got slipped over it from just how quickly he pulls out. Like Colson's hole is challenging his accusation of looseness. "Fuck-" he just wants to smother the brats face down into the pillows. He tells himself his anger isn't from not being able to reach.

An impatient yank and the condoms tearing. Leaving Marshall all but ready to go put his clothes back on and storm out. There's a nasty swirl of emotions going on inside his stomach that he really doesn't want to risk bursting while they find and put on a replacement.

"W-what're you waiting for?" Colson's back is arching, and that pale mop he calls hair is lifting up to look back. So needy he can't even pause for one minute.

"Fucking condom broke- just, shit, just give me a minute-" Marshall doesn't even know where to look, not with all the blood pooling in his cock and his focus begging to be set on his rivals waiting body.

Colson put the thing on him, he can remember that much, one of those prissy little manicured nails probably scratching the elastic as he did it. He's sure he must have one in his wallet but that's across the room in his sweats, by the bathroom door. Where Colson's impatience about even waiting to let him finish his piss and get undressed had left him falling back into the door.

If he has to walk all the way over there to get it he might as well just go home.

"Forget it. I'm done." They shouldn't be fucking like this anyway. It's a major mistake.

"What?" Colson's fingers curling around his wrist is a new sensation. The wide look to his half hidden eyes punching something deep within Marshall's stomach. "We haven't even come yet-" there's a hint of hysteria in the blonde's tone and smile. "If it's because of what I said then- t-then I'll bite the fucking pillow or something alright? Don't be so dramatic dude-"

"I don't have another condom-" It's a weak excuse, they both know Colson evidently has some somewhere in the room of his own. But Marshall needs to take this brief chance to get out now before he loses it. The longer Colson stares at him the more nauseous that feeling bubbling up has him.

"...Forget it then-" the blonde's finally looking away, almost convincing Marshall that he's also second guessing this sex. But those long delicate fingers are still clutching onto his wrist and there's a palpable silence cutting through the air so thick he feels like he might choke before Colson's baby blues are meeting his head on once again. The shimmer of anxiety impossible to hide between long bangs. "Just do it raw. I-I'm clean and I- you- fuck," there's shame mixing in the look now, the grip the blonde has doubling down when Marshall reflexively tries to pull back. "Don't…."

Go. Don't go. Colson isn't saying it but Marshall can hear the word clear as day between them.

It's about the sex. He isn't satisifed yet. If Colson had cum already the bastard wouldn't be hesitating to kick him out. That's what Marshall's mind screams to reassure himself but there's still a hollow place in his stomach where he feels gutted by the look.

"...f-Fine." He tries to justify staying by remembering how annoying and painful blueballs can be. "But don't fucking text me tomorrow whining how my jizz is still leaking out of your ass."

His free hand settling back down on Colson's hip finally snaps whatever weird fog has blanketed the room. A forced sounding snicker muffling itself against the pillows while Colson's legs readjust to raise his ass. "If you can even get back inside without nutting old man-"

This kind of banter is more comfortable.

"Keep talking, I'm gonna fuck you until you're crying for me to finally finish."

"You wish." Colson's voice is still muffled but the slight challenging swing of his hips says more than enough.

Marshall's fingers instantly find their previous spot, each digit mirroring the small red dots on the opposite side of the younger rapper's skin. 

The lubes still nearby on the bed luckily, allowing him to be quick as he reslicks his achingly hard cock and squirts an extra dollop directly on his partner's hole for good measure. As much as he loves hurting the punk doing so in this way would only cause them both more trouble.

"F-fuck-" Of course Colson's as tight as a vice when he finally tries to push inside. The tight ring of muscle rejecting his entry just as vehemently as he's sure the boy's heart would. They can't do anything pain free, like the world is punishing them for continuing their facade. "Relax-" 

"Thought you said I was too loose?" Marshall can practically hear that smug little smirk Colson's sporting.

Defiantly his hips jerk forward a bit harder, until the blonde actually does cry out and his legs spread the tiniest bit wider. The tight clench Colson has evidently been giving his hole relaxing instantly to let him breach. A string of curses and clawing hands keeping Marshall from fully basking in the incomparable tight heat slowly engulfing his cock.

Even with a pillow clutched close against his face Colson is loud. Each noise climbing alongside his pace as he starts properly fucking his rival yet again. Until they're almost back up at full throttle and Colson's mesmerizing back is arching, a large hand jerking up to plant itself flat against the headboard. "Fuck, fuck, please, just like that Marsh, god- baby d-don't stop-"

The slip of a nickname doesn't escape Marshall's notice, he's just too focused on chasing down his own pleasure to properly care. Once they're done he'll mention it. Or maybe even just wait until tomorrow to text the brat a reminder, but for right now he keeps pumping his hips. Heart warming uncontrollably at the mere joke of being someone Colson can call baby.

Reflexively his palm claps down hard on the other man's ass, too sharply and sudden to do anything but sting. "Ah, f-fuck!" He's taking his anger at his own feelings out on Colson and it's not fair but he can't help himself.

The red imprint of his hand glares back in his vision long after a kinky smack should have faded and just the sight of it sticking around gets Marshall's pace growing a little erratic. He wants to tear the blonde apart, shred every bit of his being to pieces and then sew it all back together to see the taint his touch has created visualized as hundreds of scars. He wants to sully the blinding beauty he sees everytime they meet and everytime he glimpses back at the bed before he leaves. Just ruin Colson completely so that there's no other choice but him in the whole world for the blonde to turn to.

But he's not falling in love.

That would mean he's stupid enough to fall for someone who could never settle for him. That he's actively continuing to come back and push the bar with every hookup just to see when enough is enough and he'll finally be left on the otherside of the hotel room door. Or the one waking up alone in bed the morning after.

Marshall wouldn't.

"S-shit wait- I-" Colson's hips are stuttering back to meet his, the hand he's still got hugging the pillow abandoning it in favor of stuffing down between his legs. It's obvious the blonde's close. Marshall can feel it in the tight grip around his cock and hear it in that shaky voice. It's not until he doubles down to fuck the younger rapper hard enough to knock his slender body inch by inch further up the bed that Marshall realizes he's trying to hold out. "N-not yet, ah, fuck, s-slow down-"

"No-" he's close himself, chest heaving and balls tightening as it is. There's no way he's letting Colson try to change the pace now. "Save, fuck, save that edging shit for after I leave-" he's lashing out for control again but can't stop himself.

This time instead of pinching pale skin Marshall slides his fingers up into sweaty blonde hair. Yanking back until he's got the man's back arched perfectly and his mouth can seal in a bite to one pointy shoulderblade. Fingers snaking around to hold Colson up there by his throat. "Fucking take it like a good whore and come Kelly." 

In this position he feels unbelievably deeper and there's nothing to block out the blonde's gasps and cries.

Nails scratch quickly along his thigh but Marshall ignores them to keep rolling his hips. The need to make Colson finish first fueling his free hand to climb up to knock away the punks own. Quickly jerking up and down over the soaked cock the other man was trying so hard to squeeze and restrict.

"N-no, no, fuck, Marshall-" a hand's curling around the back of his head to pull him close despite Colson's protests. Every atom in the other males body seeming to reach out and beg and plead for him to come closer, to fuck him harder until they split through the magnetic field and combine into one. Marshall wants to kiss him again. Hates how he can't even see the brats mouth over his shoulder from his current position. His fingers fly faster and hips roll up firmer in retaliation. "F-fuck-" 

There's a wet sob breaking the moans in the air, piercing straight through his chest like a bullet while Colson's hips stutter back and hot release paints across his fingers. Sending him right over the edge himself. Body forcing them both forward so he can hump and grind his pelvis against Colson's ass down to the bone while he pumps and fills the twink up with his own release. The hands around his neck and cock turning into strong arms around the blonde's chest and waist like a hug.

It's the closest thing to a cuddle Marshall will allow himself. That he can't actually prevent his orgasming body from resisting.

There's so much comfort and begging from his body to stay like that, for Colson to never leave him in those moments that the rapper can't help but tear up a little himself.

But just as quickly as its come sensibility returns and with it the guilt and shame. Scaring his arms free and his body away from Colson's usually still trembling form.

"Wait-" fingers are grabbing his wrist again, weaker this time.

Marshall's still buried to the hilt, even though his chest has unstuck itself from Colson's museum print of a back tatt. Sorry is dancing on the tip of his tongue. Like it always does. Always too graceful to ever trip up and spit out though before he finally leaves.

"A-again." Colson's face is still buried in the pillow, eyes and nose planted firmly down while his chins pulled up.

"What?" A second round isn't completely crazy for them, sometimes when the anger is hot enough its even necessary but not tonight. Marshall shouldn't even be humoring the request, not with how fragile his emotions feel, but Colson's hand refuses to let go.

"Fuck me. Please. Just-" Now with his head clearing the rapper can finally notice how Colson's shoulders are turning inwards, how the tone of his voice carries a shake. "Do whatever. I-I dont care. Just don't- fuck, d-don't-"

Go.

Leave. He has to leave. 

"Colson?" The name feels strange in Marshall's mouth from all the "kelly"'s "brats" and other derogatory words he usually uses in it's place.

Wet baby blues peering back all but pin him in place whether he wants to leave or not. Their message clear.

"Please." A single word and it's as effective as a sledgehammer around his heart.

"I-" Can't. Shouldn't. "I'm not hard anymore."

On a normal night that kind of obvious embarrassed blurt of an answer would get the kid smiling, one of those rare soft warm looks where his crows feet and gums showed, that scorched Marshall's skin from how brightly it radiated affection. Each chuckle or snort following just another stone slamming hard against his heart.

Tonight Colson doesn't smile. Instead of crinkling at the corner to flash the only hint at Colson's slow aging those lashes drop just low enough to bubble up the small collection of tears already present. His pretty but thin lips quivering up and down to fight back a frown. 

A year ago this exact look was the center of so many fantasies. He had wanted nothing more than to see the blonde crumble and break apart in front of him like a pathetic mess.

Right now instead of satisfaction all Marshall's body feels is hollow. Like his heart has finally abandoned his chest and surrendered itself to the hopefully quick acting acids of his stomach. The rapper doesn't think he can possibly feel worse but then Colson's arching his body away from him. Slipping his soft cock free of that lingering tight heat and stealing away any trace of faux comfort he feels with every centimeter of separating skin.

"I'll take care of it-" Colson's voice is hoarse, like hes fighting down the threat of a sob while his body twists onto its side. The sluggish lift of a hand back towards his cock piercing through him like a killing blow.

"No." Now his throat feels tight too. Shame and guilt pouring down his spine at the thought of Colson pushing through his obvious pain and turmoil to jerk his cock back to life just so he stays a few moments longer.

"Please-" Baby blue eyes are shining at Marshall again. The fast slip of a tear down one flushed cheek only making his fingers dig harder into younger male's wrist. "Marshall-"

He can't do this.

"No-"

"Yes!" Colson's scream pierces the silence so suddenly he thinks his wars might be ringing. But the pure desperation painted in angry eyes keeps Marshall's own from flinching all the way closed. "I'll fucking find you viagra or- or suck your dick until my jaws sore-" now Colson's own fingers are cutting back, prying at the preventative grip he's got on the blonde's hand like a caged animal might. "I don't care what- just- you- you aren't- you can't-"

It hurts, and with the way Colson's legs are twitching beneath him Marshall knows a kick or knee to his gut might come next. None of it compares to how badly his throat tears when he speaks though. "I'm not fucking you!" Somehow he manages to put every ounce of finality in his voice that he intends. Freezing Colson's grappling and rambling in an instant.

The ensuing silence feels deafening. 

Colson's still staring at him. Pain and anger warring across his face in small twitches and ticks. Marshall's mouth just repeats itself. Quieter this time. The heave if his lungs breaking up his words in tight exhales. "I'm not….I….I'm not going to fuck you."

There's a million more words tangling on his tongue. The order jumbling and backing them up like a traffic jam until he feels like he can't even breathe anymore.

I want to stay. I'm sorry. Dont do this to yourself. Please. Don't cry. Colson-

"I'm sorry." Colson cracks first. Expression screwing up and the floodgates behind his eyes opening as he sobs. "I'm so fucking sorry Marshall-"

This time he doesn't resist that ache to kiss the blonde. 

It's messy and Colson's mouth tastes like snot and tears already but Marshall presses closer anywhere. Cradling the younger rapper's skull with his free hand so tightly he knows he has to be pulling out hair. The wrist he'd snatched pinned between their bodies in a way that makes his own ache. But he ignores all of that and kisses Colson harder. Smacking their lips and teeth against one another in hopes the words trapped in his throat might pour their way out and into Colson's. Down the blonde's own throat to reach his heart.

He kisses Colson until he can't physically do it any longer. The sharp sting of oxygen deprivation jolting through his brain and colored spots dancing behind his closed eyes before their lips finally part. 

Marshall wants to press so close he sinks down into Colson's bones. Join in with his marrow and spend the rest of his life repairing every broken piece of the beautiful man's soul from the inside out.

That's not possible though so he settles for pulling Colson close. Enveloping him in his arms the same way he wishes he had a dozen times over. Stabilizing him through every shuddering sob and heartbreaking tremble.

He's not falling in love.

"I got you."

He'd already crash landed there long ago. 

[slashingdisneypasta]

Male!Villain x Reader || Playlist Fanfic

Title: Twisted Intimacy 

Duration: 65 mins. | | These songs are all availably on Spotify. |

What is this? : I’m telling a fanfiction through songs! This way, we can really put ourselves in the story without all my blabber and feel things that only music can convey. I hope its easy to follow, and you like it! ^^ I hope to make a female villain one and one with a masculine reader voice at some point, too. 

Plot:  This is a very basic Villain x Reader story where the reader tries to move on from villain and be with a good person, but of course the heart wants what the heart wants and if the heart wants the sexy bad guy there isn't much you can do to stop it! ... right? 

Thank You | Amy Diamond |: You were in a relationship with Villain, but you’ve finally gathered the courage to leave him and that is exactly what you’re doing. You think you wont miss him. 

~ I'm out, I'm closing a chapter

~ Thank you for all that you've done for me Now I know what real love is supposed to be Can't waste my time, so goodbye my baby, baby, baby Thank you

You'll Be Back | Jonathon Groff, Hamilton |: Villain is far more aware of his feelings for you, then you are of your feelings for him, and is deluded into thinking that you'll come right back to him.

~ You'll be back, soon you'll see You'll remember you belong to me You'll be back, time will tell You'll remember that I served you well

~ You say our love is draining and you can't go on You'll be the one complaining when I am gone And no, don't change the subject 'Cause you're my favourite subject My sweet, submissive subject

She's Got A Boyfriend Now | Boys Like Girls |: Our Villain is taken on an ego crushing trip to the ground when he realises you really have found someone new. Someone good, who you like. Who you got together with and dated normally, instead of the cat and mouse game that Villain played with you. 

~ Wish that I could turn this car around But she's got a boyfriend now

~ Maybe I thought I could sneak in And sweep her off her feet and go right back to Boston Thinking everything's goin' be alright

~ But she’s got a boyfriend now 

Boyfriend | Lou Bega |: Villain doesn’t like your boyfriend at all! No, no.

~ I love everything about you girl Don't you understand? I love you from head to toe, girl But I hate your boyfriend

~  He's a fake, ain't no man Not even able to count to ten

~  So come on girl, choose your joy: You can pick me or your little boy

SOS | Rihanna |: You reflect on your physical, sort of more animalistic need for Villain (Especially in regards to comparing him to your new guy)

~ S.O.S., please someone help me It's not healthy for me to feel this Y.O.U. are making this hard I can't take it, see it don't feel right

~  This time, please someone come and rescue me 'Cause you on my mind, it's got me losing it I'm lost, you got me lookin' for the rest of me Love is testing me, but still I'm losing it

According To You | Orianthi |: You start to realise that all the things that your New Guy doesn’t like about you, the Villain loved. Loves, in fact. Present tense. You wonder whether that’s okay. You get upset. You take a break from new guy.

~  According to you I'm difficult Hard to please Forever changing my mind I'm a mess in a dress ~ But according to him I'm beautiful Incredible He can't get me out of his head 

Fuck Away The Pain | Divide The Day |: Aha... ya’ll know what this mean...  

~ Fuck away the pain, erase him from your brain Fake it like you love me, Come on baby touch me 

Right Kind Of Wrong | LeAnn Rimes |: It’s not only physical now. You know you've fallen again for Villain, but you know, you shouldn't.

~ Say my name and I can't fight it anymore Oh I know, I should go

~  Loving you isn't really something I should do Shouldn't wanna spend my time with you That I should try to be strong But baby you're the right kind of wrong

I Didn't Just Kiss Her | Jen Foster |: Villain is having a bad time, now. It wasn’t just a kiss, it wasn’t even just a night. Not for him, and he knows not for you either. It was more than that. But you're going back to your new guy, now. You're denying it was any more then a night of weakness, and it hurts him. He wants to hurt you, back, and that want manifests itself into vulgarity and honesty. 

~ She likes to think she didn't invite it But these scratches aren't because she tried to fight it

~  I don't know what the problem is Why she gotta try so hard to keep it all a secret

~ She's gonna go back to her boyfriend now Before the questions come up She's gonna tell 'em I'm stalking her round the clock Like I'm making the story up

Love The Way You Lie | Eminem, Rihanna |: You and Villain fight, because he knows how you feel it too and you know how you feel it, but you're still trying to run away. You’ve always indulged in mutually toxic fights, its the reason you left, and it’s awful. But the connection between the two of you is undeniable.

~ Now I know we said things, did things That we didn't mean and we fall back into the same patterns Same routine, but your temper's just as bad, as mine is You're the same as me, when it comes to love, you're just as blinded Baby please come back, it wasn't you Baby it was me, maybe our relationship isn't as crazy as it seems Maybe that's what happens When a tornado meets a volcano All I know is I love you too much, to walk away now

The Way I Loved You | Taylor Swift |: Just after the fight you’re on your own again. You’ve cooled down, and you think more about the differences between your love for Villain, and your love for the New Guy.

~ He respects my space and never makes me wait And he calls exactly when he says he will He's close to my mother Talks business with my father He's charming and endearing, and I'm comfortable

~ But I miss screamin' and fightin' And kissin' in the rain And it's two a.m. and I'm cursin' your name You're so in love that you act insane And that's the way I loved you

History | Olivia Holt |: You're ready to break up properly, for good, with your new guy. Because you aren’t ready for a relationship like he wants. He's lovely, and despite your differences, he's good. But it’s clear you haven’t moved on from Villain and they're still there. Hanging over your heart like a raincloud and it’s not fair to new guy for you to stay with him.

~ Sorry, I don't really see this workin' out It's nothin' you did I just can't do this right now

~ Baby, you're so perfect But he's the perfect one for me I know that you're worth it But somethin' 'bout him gets to me Gets to me, all I need Plus, we got history

I Am Always Gonna Love You | Jon McLaughlin |: This is your new guy apologising to you, asking for your forgiveness, and asking for you back. Saying he loves you, he really does. And he asks you to marry him. You say yes. (There is a sort of sad tone to it, because he knows you love Villain as well- he just wants you to know how well he would treat you, if you let him, in comparison to how Villain would and has.)

~ I'm going to love you til my dying day I'll be beside you when you're old and grey Just like the feelings that I feel right now I'm never going to go away

~  From the picture perfect moments That I never want to end To the couch and tv kind of afternoons You're a light that's always shining And there's a million reasons why I know that I am always going to love you

Marry Me (Guy) | Thomas Rhett |: Villain at your wedding. Tense on the ‘Ain’t gonna marry me’ and not ‘Don’t wanna marry me’. Because he knows you want him, you just aren't going to. 

~ So I'm in my black suit, black tie, hiding out in the back Doing a strong shot of whiskey straight out the flask I'll try to make it through without crying so nobody sees Yeah, she gonna get married But she ain't gonna marry me

Marry Me (Girl) | Elle Mears |: You at your wedding. 

~ I’ve got on my dress now, welcoming the guests now I could try to find him, get it off my chest now  ~ He’s the one I wanna marry But he don’t wanna marry me  

So Close | Jon McLaughlin |: You share a dance with Villain at your wedding, and theirs a drowning amount of pining for each other. Gentle, happy tones as well though because you're happy with each other.

~ You're in my arms And all the world is calm

~ A life goes by Romantic dreams must die So I bid my goodbye

~  So close to reaching That famous happy end Almost believing This one's not pretend And now you're beside me And look how far we've come So far we are, so close

Bleeding Love | Leona Lewis |: Something has snapped. You're suddenly ready to be with Villain. You don’t want to marry your new guy- you want Villain. So, you leave the wedding with him, and you know people will think you're insane and maybe you are but all you know is that the way they make you feel? It’s a good kind of pain. 

~ But nothings greater, than the rush that comes with your embrace And in this world of loneliness, I see your face Yet everyone around me, thinks that I'm going crazy, maybe, maybe

~ But I don't care what they say I'm in love with you They try to pull me away, but they don't know the truth My heart's crippled by the vein, that I keep on closing You cut me open and I  

Chains | Tina Arena |: Ending song. 

~ I'm in chains I pretend I can always leave Free to go whenever I please But then the sound of my desperate calls Echo off these dungeon walls I've crossed the line from mad to sane A thousand times and back again I love you baby

[thorne93]

Inside the Criminal Mind (Part 2)

Prompt: You’re married to Dr. Spencer Reid of the BAU, and are a distinguished doctor yourself on the team. You’re sent down to Miami, Florida for teaching and as a side request from the FBI, to investigate a string of missing persons. When you think you’ve figured out who the unsub is, your life becomes more complicated than you ever could’ve imagined.

Word Count: 

Warnings: (throughout the fic -->) death, blood, gore, killings, language, disturbing mental notions, mentions of rapes/murder/etc (You know, Dexter and Criminal Minds related business)

Notes: Thank you so much to @arrow-guy, @carryonmyswansong, and @mrs-dragneel-stark-solo - without each of you, I couldn’t have finished, written, or properly navigated this story. Each of you helped me fish out details that were incredibly important to me. Beta’d by @carryonmyswansong and @mrs-dragneel-stark-solo... Aesthetic by @mrs-dragneel-stark-solo

This is a crossover of Criminal Minds x Dexter. First time writing Dexter.

Also, the timeline is after Season 1 of Dexter, but during season 14-ish of Criminal minds into Season 15. Enjoy!!!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“So, I got a job offer,” you started as you picked at your meatloaf.

“A job offer?” Spence questioned from across the table. “I had no idea you were even looking. What about the BAU? What about being together? You and I agreed this was the only way to ensure the other person is safe--”

You held up a hand to stop his onslaught. “I’m not leaving the BAU, and I wasn’t looking for a job. This just sort of fell into my lap.” 

“Is this what Emily wanted to talk about today?”

You nodded. “Yeah. It’s a teaching position.”

“Teaching? I never knew you were interested in that.”

You shook your head. “I’m not. Well. I wasn’t.” 

Spencer and you had been married for eight years. You fell in love quickly when you came to work for the BAU. When you met him, it was like stars shone for the first time in a dark sky for you. He was unlike any man you’d ever met, thankfully. He was kind, sweet, intelligent, and slightly awkward. Almost as if he was made for you. When the two of you met, it was a meeting of the minds. He saw you as his equal, and he was yours. You might not have the IQ of a genius, or read as quickly, but you deduced things faster than anyone else on the team. At first, you were worried he wouldn’t be impressed by you or see you as a peer, seeing as he’s a genius. But that fear quickly fell to the wayside when you realized you had quite a lot in common, especially books and chess. You two bonded over Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, as well as the nerdier side of things such as Star Wars and Star Trek. 

Even though you were the greatest of friends, spending all your time together, it still surprised you when he asked you out to dinner. Apparently to everyone else on the team, it wasn’t a surprise, as Spence had confided his feelings long ago to them and they encouraged him to ask you out. 

After a year of dating, he asked you to marry him. There wasn’t one thing you didn’t love about this man. He was everything you could ever ask for in a husband and more. You two had shared your ups and downs. Dealing with his mother, him going to prison falsely, you working on a book, somewhat like Rossi. It’s all been a lot of strain for a marriage that was just beginning. But each day, you wake up looking at him with more love than before. 

“So what is it, exactly?”

“University of Miami. They’re opening a new course and want me to teach in the Spring.” 

“And you think you might want to do this?”

You shrugged slightly. “I think… I think I’d like a break from the BAU.”

He frowned at you, concern coloring his face. “Is this because of the trial?”

“Ten, Spence,” you reminded in a calm, sad voice. “Ten cases that we solved, that we arrested the bastard and for what? So some hotshot defense attorney could get them off? To paint them sympathetically? To put that seed of doubt in the jury’s head. These are ten people who have just… just walked! They’re out on the streets. I know we like to live in this world where once we capture the bad guy it’s over but the reality is these people aren’t serving time. Justice isn’t being done. After today I just… I need a break from it all. Maybe teaching some people will help remind me why I wanted to do this in the first place.” 

“We do this because even if they don’t get sentenced they’re off the streets and less people are in danger for the time they’re jailed.”

“And what about after they get off? Hmm? What then? They just learn to be craftier, sneaker, erase their trail? Do they go overseas to torment other countries? A few months isn’t good enough, Spence. Not any more. Alan Rochester is out, hell he could be hunting us down for all we know.”

He said nothing. He knew it was true. Both of you knew the dangers you lived in from the possibility of criminals getting out to hunt you or the others on the team down. 

“I know it’s scary. I know it’s tough but just… leaving the BAU to do this…” 

“I’m not leaving, Spence. It’ll be temporary. It’s a needed break.”

“But it’s a break from me, from us. I won’t see you for almost six months.”

“I know that. We can meet on spring break though and I can fly up at least once a month to come see you on the weekends… we can video chat…. I just really think I need this sort of mental break from catching bad guys that might end up being for nothing.” 

“Are you sure this is really what you want? If it is, I’ll support if. Or we could go away on vacation, perhaps?”

You shook your head. “I’m not sure a two week vacation would be long enough, and with our luck we’d be called back after three days.”

A look of powerlessness fell over his face as he slumped slightly in his chair. “I’m just going to miss you, that’s all. We’ve never been without each other. Even before we dated, we always stayed in the same hotel room and now… now you want to leave for five months to a different job in a different state.”

“It’s not like that, sweetie. I just need the break. You teach here. I’d like to give it a go and see if it’ll help me regain some sanity.” 

He bobbed his head, understanding. “I get it. Alright. If you think it’ll help, I’m all for it.”

“Thank you.” 

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

Over the course of the next month, Spencer helped you devise a school plan, a curriculum to which you could go by. You told him everything you wanted to cover, and a book you thought the students might enjoy. You tried to remember professors from college and the way they taught so that you could incorporate that into your lectures. This was daunting to say the least. 

On your last day at the office, everyone was in tears. 

“I can’t believe you’re leaving,” Garcia stated as she walked over to you as soon as you and Spence showed up. 

“It’s not forever,” you reminded with a slight laugh. “Nothing to cry over.” 

“What do you mean nothing to cry over? You’re going to be gone and Lord knows how well Reid here is going to take it.” 

You chuckled. “Spencer will be fine in my absence. So will you. All of you will.” 

“But you crack about half of our cases. Without you…”

“I’m still available for calls during certain parts of the day and all hours of the night. Emily knows this.” 

“Yeah but--”

“But nothing, Garcia. This is okay.” 

She peered at you unsure, but then she nodded, walking into the office with you and Spence. 

“Hey, you ready for this?” Tara asked as she stepped forward, putting her hand on your shoulder.

“Yeah, yeah. I’m pretty excited to be honest.” 

“That’s good. We’re going to miss you though.” 

“I know. I’ll miss all of you. I’ll be back over spring break and I’ll try to fly up on the weekends,” you informed Tara, Luke, and Matt. 

“You better, or we’ll come kidnap you,” Luke joked, slightly punching your arm, making you laugh. 

“Is that our new professor?” Rossi asked from behind you.

You grinned, blushing slightly before turning. 

“You’re gonna knock ‘em dead, kid, I know it,” he assured as he walked up. “And we all pitched in to get you this,” he stated as he handed you a wrapped gift. 

A grin popped onto your face as you took it. “What is this?”

“Open it up and find out,” Rossi encouraged with a coy grin making you chuckle lightly. 

You tore into the paper, opening the box, to discover a clear glass apple inside with the words “To your first day of class, Professor Reid,” etched on it.

Tears sprang to your eyes as you laughed. “This is great. Really great. Thank you!”

Before you could get too cozy or caught up in goodbyes, Emily called you all in the conference room for a case. The team had to start a local case, and you helped out all day while you could, but then you had to get home to finish up packing, and get sleep for your early flight. 

You had packed three big suitcases full of the essentials, you would spend the first week down in Miami in a hotel, looking for an apartment in the meantime. Once you found an apartment, Spence agreed to send down the boxes of clothes that you had already put together. 

On your way out of the door though at the office, an agent stopped you, one you had seen a handful of times before. “Dr. Reid?” he addressed, looking at you. 

“Yes?” 

“Could you come with me?” 

You peered at Spence with a curious look before nodding. “Sure. Can my husband come?”

“I believe so.” He took off and you two began walking beside him. “Don’t worry, you aren’t in trouble. The director merely wants to see you before you leave for Florida.”

You nodded, keeping with his pace. He led you two to the director’s office, and opened the door for you, announcing your arrival. The two of you stepped over the threshold and the agent closed the door behind him, leaving only you, Spence, and the director.

“Ah, Dr. Reid, I’m so glad we caught you before you left,” she stated, smiling at you. 

“Is everything alright?” you questioned, slightly worried.

“Oh, of course, of course. I brought you in because I hear you will be working down in the University of Miami?” 

“Mhm.” 

“Well, we have a case I’d like you to look at while you’re down there. Several, actually.” 

She lifted a box off the floor and put it on top of her desk, lifting the lid off of it, exposing a full box of files. 

“These are missing persons that have been going on for a few years.”

You picked up the top file and flipped through it. “Cold cases?”

“Yes, for the most part. Most of them have been in jail, prison, or suspected of illegal activity, never to be seen or heard from again.” 

“Not typical related crimes, such as a gang offing or…?”

“I want to believe that, but this is a high rate of missing people in these sort of circles compared to other cities in Florida.” 

“So why don’t you have the Florida division investigate?” you wondered, peering up at her. 

“We did. They didn’t have much of a lead or much to go on.” 

“What makes you think I will?” 

“You’re the brightest agent we have. You’ll be in the terrain. While you’re down there, we would appreciate it if you worked this case on the side. You have full range to question people. This is a real investigation, it’s not under the radar. Feel free to use whatever resources you need.”

“This… this is a lot to take on,” you commented. “I mean, by myself, that’s just... “

“I’m sure you can do it. If you need to consult your current team, feel free to do so.”

You slowly nodded. “Alright. Thank you. I’ll do my best.” 

She smiled a dazzling grin at you and shook your hand. “Thank you, thank you very much. Check back in by the end of the month, if you don’t mind.”

“I will.”

“Thanks. Have a safe trip.”

“Thank you, I’ll try.”

With that, you grabbed the box and left her office, your husband beside you. 

“So now you’re doing a case, several, all by yourself,” Spence noted. 

You let out a huff. “I guess so.” 

“This is going to be a lot. Teaching, grading, doing this case.”

You nodded. “I know, but I can handle it.” 

He grinned at you and kissed your forehead. “I know you can. I just… I’m just worried. This was supposed to be a break and now--”

“Spence, it’ll be fine. This sort of case won’t piss me off. There’s no one who is going to ‘get away’.” 

With a nod, you two exited the elevators and went home. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Tagging:

Forever Tag:

@essie1876​

@magpiegirl80​

@letsgetfuckingsuperwholocked​

@iamwarrenspeace

@marvel-imagines-yes-please

@superwholocked527

@missinstantgratification​

@thejemersoninferno​

@rda1989​

@munlis​

@thefridgeismybestie​

@bubblyanarocks3​

@igiveupicantthinkofausername​

@kaliforniacoastalteens​

@feelmyroarrrr​​

@kaeling

@friendlyneighbourhoodweirdo​

@damalseer​

@heyitscam99​

@yknott81​

@thelittlebigirl​

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@xxqueenofisolationxx

@little-dis-kaalista-pythonissama

@bittersweetunicorm​

@alyssaj23​

@sea040561​

@princess76179​

@thisismysecrethappyplace​

@sarahp879​

@malfoysqueen14​

@ellallheart​

@breezy1415​

@marvelmayo​

@paintballkid711​

Spencer Reid

@camigt1999​

@ultrarebelheart​

@lenawiinchester​

@esoltis280​

[samcro-girl]

Taken

(Chibs x reader)

Requested by : @band--psycho , Hey! Can I have a Chibs x reader imagine where the reader is a really shy, quiet person and doesn’t really fit in with the club, but when she gets kidnapped the guys (especially chibs) realise how much they care for her, if that makes any sense.

A/N; thanks for the great request, hope this is what you wanted. The timeline is a bit messed up because I can’t remember everything that happend :)

—

Being a office worker at the TM had to be one of the strangest jobs around, especially seeing as you were the complete opposite of the leather wearing bikers and the needy croweaters. The fast pace and the loud atmosphere of the club were completely different to the things that you were comfortable with. But a job is a job and it wasn’t too bad, the boys only sometimes bothered you to invite you to the parties , or in Tigs case, into his dorm. The only one who you didn’t mind bothering you was Chibs, because let’s be honest, you could listen to that accent all day. The conversation between the two of you could last for hours if uninterrupted, talking about anything and everything.

“Gem, I’m all done here so I’m going to head home for the night, if that’s all right?” you say to Gemma while leaning on the frame of the office door. “Ok sweetie, thanks for the extra time you did today, all of the paperwork was drowning me.” Gemma replied with a tight lip smile, turning her head from the computer to you. “ Yeah of course, happy to help. I’ll see you tomorrow.” “What time?” Gemma asked jokingly. “8:30, just like always.” You reply with a small smile , “Goodnight Gemma.” “Goodnight Y/N.”

Walking out of the office and towards the few cars that were still at the garage you spotted a certain biker who was sat on the bench by the boxing ring. Chibs stepped off of the table, and dropped his cigarette as he sauntered towards you, crushing it beneath his boot.

“Ya know lass, if your going home this late you should probably have someone with ye, just in case somthin’ happens.” Chibs said with a smile leaning in the side of your car.

“Chibs, it’s not even dark yet, I think I’ll be ok.” You reply with a smile, trying not to get caught staring at his handsome face.

“Alright, sweetheart. I’ll see ya tomorrow then?” “Bright and early. ‘Night Chibs.” You say while opening the door to your car and getting in. “Goodnight, love” Chibs responded at your window, standing back to make sure his feet weren’t rolled over. With a little wave to Chibs and the others who had just exited the club house, you made your way home.

After you rolled into your parking space and parked the car you picked up your bag from the front seat and walked up to your front door. It was unlocked. “Huh..that’s weird.” You whisper under your breath, you were sure you locked it before leaving to TM this morning. Cautiously, you walked into your house and quietly set down your bag on the kitchen table. “Sorry about this,” a voice with an Irish accent said before ramming the butt if his gun into the back of your head, making everything go dark.

—Time skip, next morning—. Third person POV

“It’s 9:15 god dammit! Where is she?” Gemma shouted to Chucky, who was in the office, as she was standing outside waiting for Y/N’s car to turn up. “I dunno Gem , maybe all our crazy shit made the girl run for the hills.” Tig said while cleaning his hands in a rag after working on a car. “ Very funny Tiggy, she’s not that stupid,” Gemma replied. “ She’s never been late, not even when she was sick.” “ Aww is Gemma worried for the office nerd, how sweet.” Tig said sarcasticly, with an over-the-top pout on his face.

“Chibs! Come here a minute.” Gemma shouted across the yard.

“Yes darlin’ , what can I do for ye?” Chibs asked Gemma. “Could you go check up on Y/N please, just see what’s going on.” Gemma said at the same time as checking the computer to write down Y/N’s address. “Yeah ok. Tiggy you’re with me.” Chibs replied, taking the address from Gemma and walking over to his bike.

“ Alright, brother.” Tig answers, also mounting his bike.

The ride to Y/N’s house was short and the boys immediately noticed that the front door was wide open. They looked at each other and pulled out their guns from their waistbands and pointed them towards the door. Chibs entered the house first, slowly making his way towards the kitchen, while Tig headed towards the bedrooms. Chibs’ eyes were instantly drawn to what looked like an abnormal note stuck to the fridge. ‘Sorry about this boys, if your reading this it means we have your girl.’ His heart stopped. ‘All we want is for you to pay the 150k for the guns and you’ll get the girl back. You have until Wednesday noon. Call the number when your ready.’ He grabbed the note and flipped it over seeing Galen’s phone number. “No no no, SHITE!” Chibs shouted, dropping his gun on the counter to hit the cupboard door with both hands, enough times for it to brake. “Whoa brother, what’s going on?” Tig asked, walking into the kitchen, gun still raised. Chibs don’t say anything, he just handed Tig the note and slumped into one of the kitchen chairs. “Jesus Christ.” Tig sighed. “How are we supposed to get 150 thousand in one day?” “I don’t know if we can.” Chibs replied, “But I swear to God if they hurt her, I’ll kill the lot of ‘em,” anger lacing his voice.

“Wait , why would they take Y/N? She isn’t a member or an old lady so why her?” Tig asked Chibs, who don’t respond. “Chibs?” Tig said whilst squatting in front of the Scotsman. Chibs looked up at Tig and tensed his jaw, tears glistening in his eyes, “They’re doing it to hurt me.” He said, voice thick with emotion, not making eye contact, “They must have been watching for a while and figured out that.. that I...”.

“That you what? Chibs?” Tig replied softly, looking at Chibs in confusion. “That I care for the lass, properly.” Chibs almost whispered, finally meeting Tigs eye. “ We’re gonna get her back brother” Tig said; trying to hide the fear and sadness that he felt. “We have to.” He added, pulling Chibs up from his seat and into a hug.

—— At Church——

“What are we waiting for, we know we can’t get the money so let’s go get her back by force!” Chibs almost screamed at Clay, slamming his hand on the table.

“We can’t, if we did that it would start a war that we wouldn’t win,” Clay replied, taking a drag of his cigar, “ We need to get that money before they do some shit to the girl.”

Chibs hung his head low and stared at the same spot on the table. “I have to get her back, I need to make sure she’s ok,” Chibs muttered, just loud enough for the boys to hear.

“And we will brother, we all want her safe.” Jax said in a comforting voice. “If we pool all our money we got and add the spare from Caracara, what? 120k. That leaves us 30 short.”

“What about TM? No money there?” Bobby asked Clay. “No, we used it to buy the new truck,” he answered. “What about that stock of meds, it must be worth at least 30k right?” Tig said.

“It’s got street value but it’s gotta be sold in bulk or it’s worthless. The problem is finding a buyer.” Juice answered, fiddling with his rings.

“What are you waiting for? Find us a buyer!” Clay shouted, banging the gavel against the table.

—— Time skip meet with Irish—— Y/N POV

“Please let me go, I swear I don’t know anything! Please!” You shout for what seems like the hundredth time, wrestling with the rope, which tied your hands behind your back and to the sides of the chair they sat you on. Your head snapped to the side with the force of the Irishman’s backhand, adding the the pain you felt almost everywhere. “Shut the fuck up girl! That’s the last time I’m gonna tell you! I don’t give two shites what you know or don’t know,this isn’t about you! Christ!” the man screamed, raising his hand to his forehead. You stayed quiet eventhough your mind was racing. What did he mean ‘I don’t care what you know’? What other reason could you be here for? Another man entered the room talking on his phone, “You really think I wouldn’t keep good on my word? Now that really hurts my feelings, Filip.” You sat up, filled with hope at the mention of Chibs. “It’s the Irishman’s code..... Yeah your girls here but if you don’t get the money then I can’t guarantee she’ll be this pretty when you next see her.” He’s stroked your cheek and thrust the phone next to your mouth, “ Go on, tell them that your alive.” “Hello?” You said. “Y/N? Y/N! Darlin’ are you ok?!” The panicked voice if Chibs rang through the speaker. “Yes! Yes I’m ok but I’m scared Chibs..... I don’t understand why this is happening! What’s going on?” You say, relief but confusion evident in your voice. “Y/N lassie, everything is going to be ok, I promise. We’re coming to get ur now alright? I’ll explain everything later. Just do why they say, alright. Don’t give them a reason to hurt you pl.....” The phone was ripped away, back to Galen’s ear. “ That’s enough talking I think, don’t you.” He said into the phone while staring at you. “ See you in a minute Filip.” He hung up and walked out of the room.

The roar of the crews motorcycles had never been a more welcome sound to your ears. You were stood at the behind the doors of some old warehouse, arms still tied behind your back. One of Galen’s men was holding you to his side with one hand on your arm, gun in the other. You watched through a crack in the doors as the boys parked their bikes and got off, walking to form a line in front of the Irish. “ Again, I really am sorry to have had to have done this, I just didn’t see another way of this working out.” Galen said to Clay.

“Cut the shite , we got your money, where’s the girl?” Chibs said, his voice cold.

“The money first.” Galen replied looking at the Scotsman. Juice dropped a bag at the Irishman’s feet, “Here, 150 thousand just like you asked.” Juice said.

Galen whispered something into the man next to him’s ear. The man turned and started to walk towards you in the warehouse. He opens the doors and grabbed you roughly and pushed you in front of him towards the crew. Your eyes immediately me Chibs’ , tears coming his eyes when he saw the state you were in. The Irishman cut your ties and pushed you into Chibs’ arms, yours instantly wrapping around his waist, burying you head into his shoulder. He just hugged you back and whispered, “I’m so sorry, this is my fault” into your hair. You looked up at him, confusion spreading across your face, “ How is it your fault?” You asked.

“They did this to ye because they know I love ya lass.”

You don’t respond, you just reached around his shoulders to bring his lips to yours, passionately kissing him with him responding by placing his hands on either side of your face. When he pulled back and raised an eyebrow you said, “ I love you, too.”

[littlemissagrafina]

Fics That Give Me Feels

(Angst, whump, hurt/comfort etc.) Regularly adding new fics

Please note that some of these can and will be TRIGGERING for some so please be careful.

Depression, self-harm, mental health, death, etc. Sorry if I missed anything else that might trigger anyone (I haven't read through these properly in a while) if someone spots any triggers will you please let me know?

Stay safe babes, Agrafina out.

After the Storm Passed

Sometimes, Peter felt like he wasn't quite... real. Like maybe he wasn’t really himself but a bad copy of himself. Like maybe he’d come back wrong.

Lost boy's lullaby

"Goodnight my angel, now it's time to sleep

And still so many things I want to say."

- Lullaby, Billy Joel

Peter was surely tired and exhausted.

He has been exhausted since five... years ago? Right? He has been fighting Thanos since that time and he had been beaten up pretty badly. And of course, who would have forget the time that he actually died--disintegrating second by second on an unfamiliar planet, fighting the inevitable of fading away... fading into nothingness. He has been fighting since that time and now, he just couldn't get any break, could he?

i love you 3000, peter parker. whether you believe it or not.

what if, after seeing morgan, tony gets another visitor in the soul realm?

teach me to be comfortable in my own skin

"Mr. Stark?"

Mr. Stark hummed but did not lift his eyes from his work. "Yeah, kid?"

"Does it bother you that I'm not normal?”

Will I Ever Make A Sound?

Mental illness does not discriminate. It doesn't give a damn if Peter Parker is Spider-Man. It takes and it takes and it takes.

But there is hope. There is always hope.

By @losingmymindtonight

Being Alive (is different than living)

The lines between life and death become blurred for Peter Parker and his family and friends when Thanos snaps his fingers. But living again when you were once dead? Well, that's the hardest part. Peter finds that surviving and living are two very different things. It's a cruel and unfortunate thing to discover.

does it ever get better? (a journey through self-harm)

By @imstrandedonthemoon

the courage of stars

Peter falls silent again, exhausted, and Tony takes the time to study the kid carefully. Peter is sullen in a way he’s never seen before, shoulders hunched and weighed down by some unseen force.

He’s just not… Peter.

“Come on, Pete. Talk to me,” Tony prompts. “If you want to see the stars, I can take you. I’ll take you wherever you’d like.”

or

Sometimes, Peter can't breathe. Tony does his best to help.

+

mosaic thoughts

Tony watches, face tight with concern, as Peter swallows thickly. The kid’s hands twitch irritably where they rest on his thighs, and Tony’s eyebrows fly up at the increasingly open display of anxiety.

“What’s going on in that head of yours?” Tony prompts gently.

Peter shakes his head fiercely again, face beginning to crumple as tears start to spill down his cheeks. Tony quickly gets up and kneels in front of him.

“Easy, kid. It’s okay, it’s okay. Just take some deep breaths and you can tell me what’s wrong.”

Peter makes another sound before finally choking out, “I can’t - I can’t!”

or

Anxiety steals Peter's colors, but Tony's there to bring them back.

+

to build a home

After the snap, Peter comes back, but nothing is the same. He's now faced with near-crippling anxiety, depression, and PTSD. But thankfully, he's got a Tony and amazing friends and family to help rebuild everything he'd lost. Recovery isn't easy, but it's worth it.

+

teach me how to say goodbye

Tony curls Peter into him protectively. “Don’t hurt him!” Tony warns, and the man laughs.

“Oh, I’m not going to do anything. You are,” he says, placing the gun down on the floor. “Well, technically you have a choice. Either you can kill your boy, or you,” he says, pointing at Peter, “can shoot Iron Man. I’ll leave it for you to decide. The survivor will be free to go, never to hear from me again.”

(In which Peter and Tony face the hardest decision they've ever had to make.)

By @tonystarkstan

I can't find a title for this

By @justme--emily

This hit really close to home and had me sobbing.

Tell Me You'll Be Fine

"Tony." A voice, gentle and warm, spoke from behind him. Tony frowned slightly, that sounded very familiar but..

Tony turned around to look at the boy- no, the young man. Tony balked slightly.

He was taller now, definitely taller than Tony was. He filled into his body well, his muscles thicker and shoulders broader, still lean though. His hair was a little shorter, too, but it was still the same brown curls. The same doe eyes. The same trusting smile.

"You're-" Tony tilted his head, taking a step forward and huffing in disbelief. The boy- no, man, walked up to meet him, smiling softly. "Pete?" Tony asked quietly, hesitantly.

"Hey, Mr. Stark."

You should be here

Since coming back from the snap May and Peter had been moved into the tower, easing the separation anxiety between everyone.

Aunt May had become Pepper’s personal assistant which meant she could see more of Peter.

Not long after the rest of the Avengers were pardoned and moved in as well. It was a little tense to start with but soon everyone was building their broken relationships back up, a lot of crying and apologising involved.

Peter soon found himself with an extended family that he loved very much.

Now it was his Eighteenth birthday, and he’s happy. He is…

by @marvels-blue-phoenix

Through Your Tattered Window Pane

While fighting a battle he wasn't supposed to be in, Tony loses his memory. He slowly regains it, seeming to remember everyone... except Peter.

+

Am I Just a Shadow You Drew?

Tony has been distant lately. Peter learns why. [AU: No powers]

By @emeraldmoon

broken by my own hand (put back together by yours)

"For the first time he realizes how perfectly the kid fits into his life. In his arms, against his chest, under his chin, in his entire world."

What Do I Need?

He's not coming. If I wasn't such a burden to him before maybe he would have helped me now. Maybe he would come pick me up and everything would be okay. But everything's not okay because I ruined everything. I should have lied more. I shouldn't have talked to my counselor. This. Shouldn't. Be. Happening.

By @scooter3scooter

Diamond of the Day

Peter couldn't let Mr. Stark die. He wouldn't let him die. He had lost Ben, he wouldn't stand by and not do anything.

Or

The Avengers Endgame/Merlin crossover that no one asked for and made me sad

+

Tumblr Drabble/One Shots

+

Whumptober 2019

By the stunning @itsreallylaterightnow

Resetting the Bone

"Morgan was being sweet, he knew that. She didn’t understand how Peter was sick. She had heard somewhere- how nobody could guess- that he was hurt on his left arm. She knew he had done it. Not a bad guy.

She’d come up with the idea that he needed a Band-Aid to keep on his wrist. Pride glowing on her face, she made sure he had one every morning. Peter wore it all day for her.

Morgan kept giving him Band Aids every visit. She didn’t give up. She was being sweet. She was trying to take care of him. But he really wished she would stop!"

these christmas lights keep shining on (without you here)

With Christmas right around the corner, Peter doesn’t know how he can move on without Tony. Thankfully, he has his family to help him through it.

By @marvelous-writer

Just gonna let em hate

It’s not like anything changed much.

Peter is usually great brushing off all the shit everyone gives him for being himself. It usually doesn’t matter what they think; what anyone thinks really.

So why is it getting so hard for him to do that recently?

By @starrykitty013

cracks in my glass house

Since adopting Harley, the adjustment period had been... hard.

Harley didn’t seem to think Tony cared about where he went or what he did or when he did it. He’d had to bail Harley out of jail more than once already. Harley had brought home girls and boys alike on various nights, only to send them home in the morning and never speak to them again (not that Tony could judge, but by this point he’d passed out more NDAs than he could keep track of).

But it was fine. Everything was fine. Tony loved Harley. He’d do anything for him.

Except let Peter become one of those nameless faces he spent the night with.

TLDR; Harley is a ~bad boy~ and Tony doesn’t want him to hurt Peter.

New Dream

“You ever tried to escape?”

Peter chuckled. “Yeah. Lots of times I end up back here, brink of death. Though, twice Tennison was so impressed he let me have extra dinner and no experiments the next day.”

“Wow, kiddo, living the luxurious life, huh?” it was astounding how quickly they’d fallen into a comfortable companionship.

“There was a guard who helped me once,” Peter’s smile dropped with his volume. “But he had to leave. They never found out he helped me. I was hoping…”

He trailed off and shook his head. “Well, I guess I’ll just have to hitch a ride with you when Captain America comes to bust you out, huh?”

Tony’s heart jumped. Oh, kid, if you knew just how much I wished for that. “Yeah, I guess I’ll let you come along. Only one stowaway allowed, though, you hear me? No weird mutated turtles or rats or something.”

Peter laughed again, and for a moment the cold cell felt warm.

[sauntered-vaguely-downward]

The Set Up. Draco Malfoy x Reader

Request by @marvelrose - ok so like, many years after the battle of Hogwarts, after the death of Astoria, Draco was raising Scorpius alone. he never thought of making a girlfriend or marrying someone after her death, but when Scorpius grew up, he started to understand how lonely his father was and he really needed a motherly love. so he planned on setting his father a date with the reader who happened to be a teacher at Hogwarts. ps. draco and reader were in different houses and never really interacted with each other. sorry if it’s too long. I had this idea for a long time and I really love your writing soo

I really love getting requests so please keep them coming! I do have a few in my to-do list at the moment but I usually get round to them in two or so days! I just want to say thank you to each and every person who follows me, likes content, reads content, reblogs content, messages me… basically, anything you do I love you for it! 

ALSO SIDE NOTE I DO NOT KNOW EXACT DATES OF WHEN SCORPIUS WAS BORN OR WHEN ASTORIA DIED OKAY? SO BECAUSE OF THAT THERE IS PROBABLY GOING TO BE A FEW INACCURACIES SO FOR THIS FIC PLEASE JUST IMAGINE SCORPIUS WAS LIKE I DUNNO 3 WHEN HIS MOTHER DIED EVEN IF HE WASN’T OKAY? THANKS!!!!!

When he was younger Scorpius hadn’t really understood the effect his mother's death had had on his father. He understood the basic emotion of sadness but it wasn’t until he was older he realised that that sadness was filled with much more.

First, he noticed the denial, the way his father ignored the loss in his life, trying his best to carry on as if nothing had happened. From the denial, he could see the anger that hid in the sadness. This anger was at everything. He was angry at himself for being the one who lived, angry that she had left him on his own, angry at his son for reminding him every day of the wife he had lost. As he got just a bit older he saw how this sadness twisted and distorted into ugly forms of depression that loomed over his father every day.

While all of that was hidden in his dad’s emotion, there was something else that Scorpius noticed, something that surrounded all of these feelings, engulfing Draco’s heart every day. It was the same feeling Scorpius felt in the absence of a mother figure in his life.

It was loneliness. Draco had lost a part of him when his wife had died, much as Scorpius had but it was different. Scorpius was young, and while that loss would always be in his heart he had his whole life ahead of him, people that could help fill the loneliness would enter his life and help him through it all.

Draco didn’t have that luxury. He was at an age where you didn’t tend to start making new friends, he didn’t have many to start with either. When Draco’s wife passed, that was it, he was left with only his son around him.

In this time of loneliness, Draco had decided to put all of his efforts into his son, making sure that he had everything he needed, trying his best to provide both a father and mother role for him. He had neglected himself, his own needs, focusing all he had into making sure Scorpius was okay, and in doing this he had unconsciously decided that he would never find love again and would never look for it again.

Which is what brings us to now. Scorpius and Draco were spending a nice afternoon together shopping and chatting as they wandered through Diagon Alley. It was the summer break so the streets were busier than usual, meaning that as they walked every now and then they walked into someone.

“Oh Sorry,” Scorpius said as he knocked into someone as they passed Gringotts. Spinning around he noticed a familiar face smiling back.

“It’s quite alright Mr Malfoy, its a bit busy today.”

“Professor Y/L/N, it's weird seeing you outside of school,” Scorpius laughed. “Er Professor this is my dad. Dad, this is my herbology teacher,” Y/N stuck out her hand for her student's father to shake.

Draco noticed that she looked slightly familiar. While he couldn’t quite place where he knew her from, he couldn’t help but notice the sweetness in her smile, or the way the sun hitting her eyes caused a little sparkle.

“Draco right?”

“Er yeah…”

“I was in your year at Hogwarts, I wasn’t in your house so I wouldn’t be surprised if you didn’t remember me,” she smiled.

“Oh no, I do remember. Y/L/N. Y/N right? You used to spend a lot of time with Longbottom in the herbology rooms?” He asked, his hand still shaking hers. It was only when she pulled away from that he realised he hadnt let go. 

“Yeah that was me, always had a fascination with plants and their abilities,” she had a soft voice one that Draco was pleased to hear. It was comforting to him, hearing someone talk so gently as though she was singing a lullaby to a baby.

Scorpius saw something in his father as he talked to his teacher, something he hadn’t seen before. Suddenly a light shone through the darkness that clouded him, a flash of something new… was it hope?

“Well it was lovely seeing you Mr Malfoy, and nice to properly meet you Draco,” she was about to leave when Scorpius noticed that little light in his father beginning to fade again. Quickly he blurted out,

“Why don’t you come for a drink with me and my father? Unless you have somewhere else to be, but I’m sure Dad would love to hear more about what Hogwarts is like now, especially seeing as you were both there at the same time,” Draco wasn’t quite sure what to make of his son's sudden interest in their conversation but he had to say he didn’t mind. It was a nice change for him to chat to someone that wasn’t his son.  

“Em yes, you should join us,” Draco smiled. Y/N looked a little confused, but smiled and nodded none the less. She enjoyed talking to the pair, it wasn’t something she would usually do by it was nice to be invited somewhere by people that weren’t fellow teachers.

They all went and sat in a small pub, surprisingly quiet in comparison to the bustling roads outside. Draco brought everyone a drink and the group sat down and continued the talk they had been having before outside.

Scorpius was surprised by how easily his father talked to the woman. Usually, his dad would shy away in conversations, find ways to leave them but when he spoke to the herbology teacher in front of him he seemed more at ease than he had in a long time. It was nice to see a genuine smile grace his father's lips for a change.

Draco had to admit, this was the first time in a long time he felt genuinely happy about talking to someone, the first time he had felt that that warmth in his chest, or the butterflies in his stomach since his wife had passed.

Scorpius saw this sparkle of joy in his dad's eyes and decided to give them some time alone.

“Hey, I just saw one of my friends from school go past, you don’t mind if I go and talk to them do you Dad?” He grinned. Nobody had walked past, well nobody who he knew anyway, but this was the first time he had seen his father show interest in anyone and wanted to see if something else would come of it. Draco wasn’t aware of what his son was planning so simply nodded, watching as his young boy ran out the door, his eyes following him as he dashed past the window and out of view.

“You have a very polite son Draco,” Y/N smiled. Draco turned back to face the woman on the other side of the table. Her smile was captivating, it made his heart feel full of light and joy. “He’s very bright too.”

“He gets that from his mother. I never really was one of the smart ones,” Draco chuckled, sipping at the drink in his hands.

“Well nobody was smart in comparison to Hermonine, that girl was incredibly intelligent.”

“Yes, that's true. So what's it like at Hogwarts these days?”

“Well, it was built back pretty similar to how it was when we were there,” she said, a hint of sadness in her tone. “Some places aren’t quite the same as they used to be, all my best hidding places seemed to have disappeared, like the one by the Hufflepuff common room, or the one at the end of the potions corridor, behind the p-”

“The painting of that guy on a horse?” Draco asked.

“Yeah, he always used to moan when I’d sit there but he’d never give up my hiding spot to anyone which was nice. You knew of that spot too?”

“Yeah, I used it in the older years. The man in the painting used to complain that I made his frame all greasy,” they both laughed at how even though they didn’t really know each other back then, they seemed to share a similar experience when they were there. “I hear McGonagall is still there, what is she likes these days?”

“Surprisingly chilled out, still terrifies me though. She was the only teacher I was actually scared of when I was there, everyone else I’d happily mess about but she use to terrify me. I think it was the stern look that she always had on her face.”

They continued to talk, happily remembering moments from when they were at Hogwarts, suprised by how much they had in common in those days. Both of them were so engrossed by each other that they failed to see as Scorpius, still on his own, as he crept past the window every now and then, checking in on them. He was pleased when he saw them both smiling and laughing with each other. It wasn’t until the sun began to set, and shops began to close their doors that Scorpius decided to return to his father.

“Hi Dad. Professor,” he smiled, sliding into the chair beside his dad. “Sorry I was gone a while, we went into some shops for a bit.”

“That's alright, we were just talking about what Hogwarts was like when we were there,” Draco said turning to face his son. When their eyes met, Scorpius could see how the sadness that usually sat in his dad's eyes had faded, replaced by something far happier. “Well it's getting darker now, I suppose we should really get going.”

“Yes, me too,” Y/N smiled. Both she and Draco felt a small sadness as they walked out of the pub. Both of them had enjoyed each others company rather a lot. Draco was about to wish her goodnight when his son, the menacing child that he was, chimed in once more.

“Why don’t you join us for dinner some time? We never have anyone over, Dad’s great at cooking as long as its basic food but it tastes great, I’d love to hear about Hogwarts from when Dad was there.” A sly grin was on his face.

Just as Y/N was about to protest, she couldn’t possibly inconvenience them like that when Draco noticed the sly grin on his sons face. He knew what was going on, and while usually, he would have nothing to do with romantic schemes he had to admit to himself that maybe his son was right about this one.

“He’s right,” Draco smiled. “It would be lovely to have someone else around for dinner, and I’m sure you have lots to tell him about what it used to be like, and you can tell me all the mischief he’s gotten himself into this year.” Y/N smiled, causing the butterflies in Draco's stomach to erupt once again. She nodded, so Draco gave her address and arranged for her to come round in a couple of days time. He gently placed a kiss on her cheek before she left, wishing her goodnight as he watched her walk away.

“I know what you’re doing Scorpius,” Draco stated, turning to walk the other way with his son. Scorpius gathered his dad would work it out, so simply replied with a cheeky,

“I’m sure I have no idea what you’re talking about father,” a massive grin plastered on his face as they made their way home.

Draco had not been looking for love, he hadn’t thought it would ever find him again, but just because he wasn’t looking for it does not mean it was not found on that day.

[babbushka]

zannah if you’re still doing prompts can you do Y with our fave west virginian???

thank you for sending this in!! I hope you like it :)

Word count: 1500

Warnings: the most mild angst possible lol

It was nearin’ closing time forDuck Tape, and Clyde was looking forward to it. He’d been on his feet for asolid six hours straight, and now that the rush of his late-night clients wasover, he was starting to feel the effects. All he wanted was to lock up andcollapse in his bed. He was fixin’ to put himself in a sour mood, his favoritepatron nowhere in sight, and hadn’t been all evening.

That was, until you burst inthrough the front door, with such energy that the three remaining patrons andClyde all looked up with curiosity.

“Sorry.” You apologized to them,embarrassed.

The old grizzled men nursingtheir beers paid you no mind after that, and you made your way to the barcounter where Clyde was trying his very best not to blush.

“I was beginnin’ to think yaweren’t comin’.” He said quietly, already working on making your favoritedrink.

“I’m sorry, work made me staylate.” You said miserably, “I tried to get here as fast as I could.”

And that was true, you had spedlike never before, the countdown on the clock making you so nervous you evenran through a yellow light or two. That made Clyde blush even more, a shy smilegracing his lips as he slid the drink over to you.

“It woulda been okay, ya know.”He said in that same even tone, lifting his gaze to meet yours. He tried not tobe blinded by the affection in your eyes, but oh he was failing at that real bad.

“No it wouldn’t’ve.” You shookyour head with a shy smile of your own.

You had been coming in to DuckTape every single night for the past seven weeks – not that Clyde was countin’or anything. You came in for one drink, but you usually stayed for hours, relaxingand talking with him like it was the easiest thing in the world.

He had developed the worst crushof his life over the course of them seven weeks, and it was gettin’ to thepoint where he was gonna have to do something about it. He was convinced youdidn’t feel the same, that the curse would catch up to him once more and he’druin the one real friendship he had built outside of his family.  

“Have one yourself, on me.” Yousaid, tapping your finger on the cold glass of the drink, “If you’d like ofcourse.”

Clyde nodded gratefully, it waslike you had read his mind.

“I reckon I would.” Clyde said,pouring himself the same beverage from the tap. “Thank you (Y/N).”

The two of you clinked theglasses together before taking a long sip, and you chuckled at how eager he wasto down his beer.

“Been a rough day?” You askedwhen Clyde went in for another one.

“Hmm, better now that you’re here.”He admitted.

The two of you looked at oneanother, unsure of what to do. If it were up to you, you’d reach across the barand pull him into a kiss, wrap your arms around his neck and tangle a hand in hishair. But he surely had no interest in you, you were just a paying customer isall – right?

“It’s mighty quiet in here, I’llget us a song?” You slid off the barstool, getting your feelings all hurt fromthe thought. “Wanna hear something special?” You asked him.

He could tell something was wrongby the slight tone in your voice, but he didn’t know what, or how to fix it.

“Anything you pick’ll be special,darlin’.” He shook his head.

Darlin’ -- did he call anyone else that? Or was that something justfor you? 

You wished you could ask, without making things awkward. Thisfriendship with Clyde was your most precious thing, if you screwed it up bymaking him uncomfortable or angry, it felt like it’d ruin your whole life.

You flipped through the faded jukeboxrecords and punched in the number for one you hadn’t heard in a long time,forgetting the name but remembering the melody. The music sounded softly, andonce it was good and goin, you returned to your seat, your drink, your bartender.

“This one’s a bit of a sad song,don’t ya think?” Clyde asked, wiping down the counter. His heart ached for you,wanting to hold you tight. He needed to distract himself from just reaching foryou, so the counter it was.

“It’s a sad song kinda night.” Youshrugged, sipping your beer.

“Now why’s that, angel?” Clyde,and there he went again with the names.

“You’ll be closin’ up in an hourand then I’ll have to go home.” You said, resting your head on one of yourhands.

“Well, we got an hour.” Clyde said,and you smiled.

The two of you spent the hourtalking and talking, catching up on everything. The three other patrons of thebar all said their goodbyes, walking home down the street where they lived. Itwas just the two of you and the jukebox, laughing about stupid jokes andquietly exchanging theories and stories, making eyes at each other the wholetime.

The more you spoke and laughedwith Clyde, the less sad you felt. It was enough for you to just be around him,whether he felt the same about you or not. It was enough to be in his company,to sit in the bar and blush at his sweet accent when he called you little petnames.

You finished your beer prettyearly on and had called it quits, but Clyde was a couple deep, and he wasstarting to panic. He had planned on telling you today, had planned on gettingit all off his chest, but now the time was coming and he had to actually do it.

His stomach grumbled loudly, andyou laughed at the sound.

“Sometimes I wish I didn’t closethe kitchen so early.” Clyde chuckled, feelin’ only a little embarrassed.

“What are ya hungry for?” Youasked, looking at your watch. It was only nearin’ one in the morning, you couldprobably call to have pizza delivered or run out for greasy fast food.

Clyde looked at you long and hardthen, figuring now was as good a time as any.

“You.” He said, making your heartbeat so hard you swore he could hear it.

You had to have heard wrong – he couldn’thave possibly said he wanted you?

“You’re drunk.” You laughed, buthe shook his head, making you genuinely smile.

“Oh yeah? Well you’re beautiful.”He said, nerves wracking through his body, making him go all soft spoken. “Don’t take a drunk man to know it, neither.”

After a beat of silence, youdetermined that no this wasn’t a dream, and no you weren’t hallucinating. Youlooked into his eyes, really looked at him, and saw how nervous he was. Thepoor man was practically shaking, his mouth set in a line that you knew was himpreparing for rejection. Hope swelled in your chest, and you chewed your lip,your cheeks bright red.

“You really think so?” Youwhispered, the biggest grin on your face.

“I do.” He replied right away,his confidence slowly building. You hadn’t slapped him, or left, or told himyou just wanted to be friends yet, which was more than he was expectin, and itmade his own heart thud wildly in his chest. “I think a lot of things about ya.”

“Why don’t you come on the otherside of this here bar and tell me some of ‘em?” You asked with wide eyes and asmile, grateful for the privacy of an empty bar when he actually did.

“I’ll tell ya every day, if you’dlet me.” He whispered as he took your hand in between his own. You didn’t evenflinch at the cold metal of his prosthetic, and it made him emotional in a wayhe couldn’t really say. “I’d make you my girl, take ya home and tell ya adifferent one every night.”

The words filled you with joy, somuch so that you felt your cheeks grow wet from little tears that spilled.

“Oh Clyde, I’ve been waitin’ along time to hear you say that.” You said, feeling silly for crying, until yourealized his eyes were shining too.

“Well, whaddaya say?” He asked,still after all this, nervous.

You stood up on your tip toes tokiss him, square on the mouth. He immediately wrapped you up in his arms, kissingyou lazily, happily. You felt giddy, like it was the first time you had everkissed a man, the first time you had ever fallen in love. Clyde kissed you andkissed you, his mustache and goatee tickling your cheeks and your lip, makingyou smile and giggle against him. He couldn’t help but smile too, the two ofyou too happy to kiss each other properly.

“I say it’s closing time.” Yousaid, when the two of you broke away for air.

Clyde never locked up faster in hiswhole life, never more eager to go home than he was now that he was going homewith you.

Tagging some pals! :) As always, if you’d like to be added or taken off the list please just shoot me a message!  @fullofbees@spinebarrel @oh-adam@dreamboatdriver @bad–bad–man@thecurlycaptain @bourbonboredom@driverficarchive@aweirdlookingtree@rosalynbair@redhairedfeistynerd@adamsnackdriver@glitzescape@arwarz @adamsnacc-kler

[searchingwardrobes]

Sweet Dreams (Are Made of This)

Happy birthday, @flslp87 ! I really hope you like this fic I wrote for you because it’s a little different. We've had conversations about our mutual love for Scarecrow and Mrs. King, so I put on an 80s playlist to get inspiration. I was struck by the line about traveling the seven seas in the Eurythmics song “Sweet Dreams (Are Made of This)” and the muse just took me here. I feel like there could be more to it, but I really liked the up in the air way I ended it. I actually think you could right part two with lots of steamy scenes with our ship, lol, because you are so good at that!

Summary: Nothing has been normal since Emma snatched that dreamcatcher from the motel. She keeps dreaming of a pirate with a hook with blue eyes the color of the forget-me-not and of a profound melancholy . . . or are they Emma’s dreams at all?

Rated G because our OTP doesn’t technically “meet.” And this could totally be canon in my opinion . . .

Trigger warning: I just thought I should warn everyone that I did something completely new for me: I wrote from Neal’s point of view and tried to get in his head and, you know, NOT make him a complete asshole. I know, I’m shocked myself.

Words: almost 4,000

Also on Ao3 and part of my Fandom Birthday Playlist

Tagging the usuals: @snowbellewells @let-it-raines @kmomof4 @whimsicallyenchantedrose @winterbaby89 @teamhook @bethacaciakay @thislassishooked @delirious-latenight-laughs @branlovestowrite @kday426 @jennjenn615 @tiganasummertree @shireness-says @optomisticgirl @welllpthisishappening @wellhellotragic @distant-rose @snidgetsafan

 Sweet dreams are made of this

Who am I to disagree?

I travel the world

And the seven seas,

Everybody's looking for something.

“Aw look, the granola family left a dreamcatcher!”

Emma turned to Neal with the dreamcatcher dangling from her fingertips, smile

gracing her face. Neal, however, frowned in confusion.

“You know,” Emma continued, drawing closer to her boyfriend’s side, “it catches the bad dreams so you only have good dreams.”

“Right,” he chuckled, and Emma shook her head as she hung the dreamcatcher back on the lampshade. Neal was always funny about things like that: fables, legends, fairy tales. It never failed; he always changed the subject when they came up. She got it, of course. Who wants to believe in that sort of thing when all life has handed you is a shit show?

“You know what we should do?” Changing the subject, as usual, yet Emma didn’t protest when he pulled her into his arms.

“What?” Emma wrapped her arms around his neck.

“Maybe we should stop this whole Bonnie and Clyde routine. Settle down.”

Emma laughed, shaking her head as she stepped out of his embrace. “Where? Neverland?” He might as well believe in fairy tales, after all, to suggest something like that.

“I’m serious. We can get jobs, maybe even a house.”

He looked around and yanked the cheesy framed advertisement off the wall, the one that marked where other motels for this cheap chain could be found. He tossed it onto the bed and gestured to it with a flourish.

“Go ahead. Pick. Anywhere you want.”

Emma eyed him with hesitant enthusiasm, trying and failing to keep the smile off her face. She was so in love, so giddy with happiness living life with someone by her side for the first time, that his words actually sounded possible. She closed her eyes and put a finger on the map. When she opened them . . .

“Tallahassee,” she breathed, “does that mean there’s a beach?”

Neal grinned broadly, pulling her into his arms again. “It’s Florida. There’s gotta be a beach somewhere nearby.”

Emma kissed him. “Tallahassee.”

When they left, she grabbed the dreamcatcher and hid it inside her jacket. They needed it a lot more than the granola family did. No nightmares were going to snatch this dream away from her.

***********************************************************

Emma blinked, then rubbed her eyes. Why couldn’t she see clearly? She shook her head, but the hazy air, like cobwebs floating before her vision, remained.

“Milah! Milah!” a voice cried.

Emma turned towards the sound. There, in the middle of the hazy gray of the place was a man – a pirate? He certainly looked like one, dressed all in black leather from head to toe. He looked panicked, turning around in circles and yelling that same name – Milah - over and over.

Emma drew closer, a question on her lips, but her voice wouldn’t work. The man began to run towards a shadowy figure in the distance, and Emma found herself drawn after him. The man’s legs moved as if he were treading water in molasses, and likewise Emma couldn’t get her legs to work properly either.

“I can’t get to you!” he screamed, moving even closer, and the figure laughed, running farther away.

The man was crying now, begging the figure not to go, falling to his knees. The surroundings turned into jungle instead, though still just as hazy and dark. Emma felt an oppressive heat, and her chest tightened. The man stumbled to his feet, and he looked unseeing straight at Emma. She was struck by his eyes: not only how blue they were, but by the deep sadness glistening in them. He lifted both hands to his face as sobs wracked his body. Suddenly, his left hand was gone and blood streamed from the stump that remained. Emma stumbled back, the scene grotesque as the man screamed in agony.

Figures flooded in from all sides, crowding in around the man. One looked familiar, like a figure Emma had seen somewhere before.

“What’s the matter, Captain?” the figure said. It came into focus, and Emma realized it was just a boy. “I so wanted us to play. Does your hand hurt?”

The man stood, and at the end of his left hand was a hook -

Emma jerked awake, breathing hard. She lifted a shaking hand to her damp brow. Neal sat up next to her, groaning, and as she replayed the dream in her head, she started to laugh, almost hysterically.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” Neal grumbled.

“Know how I joked about us settling down in Neverland?” she laughed. “Well, I just dreamed about Captain Hook and Peter Pan.”

“What?”

Emma shook her head incredulously at the angry tone of Neal’s voice and the slack-jawed expression on his face.

“Yeah, I dreamed about a pirate with a hook and a kid who looked just like Peter Pan in the movies.” Emma drew her knees up, uncomfortable in the cramped backseat of the Bug. They hadn’t been able to find anywhere else to crash for the night.

“That’s weird,” Neal commented in a strained voice.

“You’re the one being weird,” Emma laughed. “It was just a dream.”

Neal shook his head and gave her a forced smile. “Yeah, I know.”

Emma reached up and absentmindedly fiddled with the dreamcatcher she had hung in the back window. “Captain Hook was different though,” she murmured, “he was . . . handsome. With really blue eyes that had a . . . profound melancholy.”

“What did you say?” Neal bit out.

Emma jerked away from the dreamcatcher, brow furrowed at her boyfriend’s angry tone. “His eyes were the blue of the forget-me-not with a profound melancholy. Like in the book Peter Pan?”

“Like you read much,” Neal snorted.

“I read it a lot has a kid,” she shot back, “it was one of my favorites.”

Neal shrugged. “Whatever, Ems.”

“What the hell is your problem!”

“You wake up and go on and on about some hot guy in your dream. How am I supposed to feel?

Emma rolled her eyes “Are you serious?”

“Yeah, I am,” he snapped, yanking open the door and getting out.

“Neal,” she called after him, “don’t be an idiot! It was a dream! God, I’m sorry, okay?”

“Whatever. I need air.” He reached in to grab his coat, and pointed angrily at the dreamcatcher. “And get rid of that stupid thing!”

****************************************************************

When Emma opened her eyes, the ground swayed beneath her. Above her was a dark sky twinkling with stars and a white sail flapping in the wind. She scrambled to her feet and saw that she was on a ship, an old sailing ship, like in a pirate movie. She turned when the floorboards squeaked, and she saw the same man as before, the pirate with the hook, coming up from below deck.

“Hello?” he called, looking around with a worried expression. “Where is everyone?”

Emma held her breath, wondering if this time he would see her, but again he looked right through her. He called out several names as he strode across the deck – the names of his crew perhaps?

“You’re alone, little brother,” a voice called out, “you’d better get to the wheel.”

“Yes, Liam, you’re right,” the dark-haired pirate murmured in response, “you always are.”

He moved in an almost dreamlike state to the upperdeck and took his place behind the wheel. Emma followed him, the ship swaying more beneath her feet. She stumbled just as she reached the wheel, almost falling against it. The pirate struggled with the wheel as thunder rumbled and lightning flashed overhead. An eerie song floated through the air as the ship crashed into the rocks.

“Bloody mermaids,” the pirate grumbled.

Emma was sent sprawling across the deck. Every time she struggled to her feet, she was knocked over once again. This dream felt so much more real than the last one. The ship pitched and rolled as rain poured from the heavens. Emma screamed when she looked up to see a giant wave poised over the ship. The pirate turned his gaze upon her, and their eyes met. Did he see her?

“Lass!” he shouted, reaching a hand out for her, but before Emma could crawl towards him and take it, the wave crashed into the ship -

Emma gasped upon waking this time, almost as if she had just been clutched from a watery grave. Her sheets and her hair were drenched with sweat, and her heart hammered in her chest.

“Emma?” Neal asked her, worry in his voice. “You’re trembling and sweating. Are you sick?”

Emma shook her head, “No, I’m fine. It was just a dream.”

And it felt so real . . .

It was pitch black, but when Emma took a step, she realized there was water all over the floor. It sloshed over her bare feet, yet it was too shallow to reach her ankles. As her eyes adjusted to her surroundings, she gasped. The water was viscous and black, clinging to her skin.

“Hello?” she called, her voice echoing in the emptiness.

She heard someone crying and tried to move towards the sound, though it was hard to get a sense of direction in this place. The crying grew louder, and she knew it was a child. Finally, there, just ahead, a figure curled in on itself. Light from an unknown source surrounded whoever it was. The closer she got, the more sure Emma was. It was a child. A little boy.

“Are you okay?” she asked, crouching down to better see the little boy’s face. His eyes were bright blue and freckles dotted his cheeks.

“He’s gone away,” he sniffled. “They’ve all gone away.”

“Who?”

“Everyone.”

The way the child said that word – everyone – caused terror to fill Emma’s heart. Suddenly, in the boy’s face, she could imagine her own.

“What are you doing here?”

Emma spun around at the sound of the adult voice behind her. She stumbled backwards to see the pirate from her other two dreams standing before her.

“I . . . I . . . “

“You shouldn’t be here,” he spat.

“Who are you?” Emma asked.

The man narrowed his eyes. “Why do I keep dreaming about you?”

“Why do I keep dreaming about you?”

“You have to get her out of her!” the little boy interrupted their senseless argument. “You know what happens next.”

The boy stood, revealing his scrawny frame clad in a long nightshirt from a long-ago era. What was it about little kids in creepy situations that made things ten times more terrifying?

“What’s he talking about?” Emma asked the pirate.

The dark-haired man rolled his eyes and grabbed her hand. Emma snatched it away.

“I’m not going anywhere with you!”

“Fine,” he snapped, “let it take you then.”

“Let what take me?”

“The darkness,” the little boy said in a flat voice, “it always gets us.”

“Quit talking like we’re two people,” the pirate snapped.

Emma looked long at the little boy’s face, then the pirates: the same dark hair, the same blue eyes, the same tiny scar on one cheek.

“He’s you and you’re him!”

“Bloody brilliant of you, lass,” the pirate snapped.

“I think she’s smart,” the little boy said, “and pretty.”

“How would you know?” The pirate ran his hand through his dark hair, causing it to stick up in all directions. “Great, now I’m talking to myself. This isn’t usually how this nightmare goes.”

Emma narrowed her eyes. “You’ve had this dream before?” She shook her own head, grasping her temple in both hands. “What am I saying, I’m dreaming this!” She was getting a headache. Could you even get a headache in your sleep?

The little boy took her hand. “I’ll get her out if you won’t.”

The room shook, and the pirate swore under his breath. “Bloody hell.”

Emma cried out as the strange, thick black water began to bubble and lap at her ankles. “What the -”

“Give me your hand, love.” He rolled his eyes when she once again hesitated, then added, “The name’s Killian Jones, okay? Captain Jones.”

“Captain Hook?” Emma asked incredulously, glancing down at his hook. Oh shit, she probably shouldn’t have pissed him off.

“Ah, so you’ve heard of me!” he exclaimed with a cocky grin.

“You could say that . . . “

This was by far the weirdest dream she’d ever had.

The room shook again, and Emma yelped as she felt herself sink. Without hesitation, she took Killian’s hand. Or his adult hand anyway, her other still clasped in the little boy’s. Who was also Kilian, apparently. God this was bizarre.

The three of them began running as best they could through the sticky substance at their feet. Since this . . . darkness always got them, according to the little boy, how where they supposed to get away?

“You have light in you,” the little boy said as if he’d read her mind, “so you can get out.”

As soon as the words were out of his mouth, Emma saw the outline of a door ahead. Light spilled out of the cracks around it, getting stronger and brighter the closer they got. Yet the closer they got to the door, the more the black tar at their feet battled to pull them down. It seemed to have tentacles now, reaching up to grasp at their legs, their arms. The little boy screamed and almost got pulled under, so Emma stopped and scooped him up in her arms. The door was only about three feet away and was swinging open, they could make it . . .

Emma glanced back and screamed to see a large, gaping mouth form out of the darkness. It was like a large, sticky crocodile jaw, and it was bearing down on them. The adult Killian shoved her and the boy towards the door, and the tar like jaws closed over his waist.

Emma’s hip hit firm ground, one arm still wrapped around the little boy. Her hand still held fast to Killian’s, but he was being pulled under by the darkness.

“No!” Emma screamed as she tried to hold on. Something in Killian’s bright blue eyes compelled her to fight to save him.

“I’ll never forget you, lass,” he said before his hand slipped out of hers and he was pulled into the inky black.

“Killian!”

“Killian!” Emma screamed, her arms flailing, searching. “Killian!”

“Emma!” a hand was on her shoulder.

“Killian?” she asked, her eyes flying open, but hovering over her was Neal. And he looked angry.

“Where did you hear that name?” he demanded.

Emma was gasping for air, trying to process the dream she had just had. It was the strangest of all she’d had since she got the dreamcatcher, but it has also seemed the most real. The dreamcatcher! Emma sat up quickly, her head almost hitting the top of the broken-down conversion van they had found in the scrap yard to make into a temporary home. She grabbed the dreamcatcher from the window where she’d hung it before going to bed.

‘The pirate’s name is Killian,” she whispered, staring in amazement at the dreamcatcher.

Before she even knew what was happening, Neal had snatched the dreamcatcher out of her hands. With a shout of rage, he snapped the frame in half. Emma shouted for him to stop, but he wouldn’t listen. He kept attacking the dreamcatcher with his bare hands, wood snapping and thread breaking. Then he tore the feathers to shreds and crushed the beads beneath his heels. For reasons she couldn’t quite put into words, Emma sobbed as he completely destroyed.

“I’m sorry, Emma,” he gasped, his emotions spent, “nothing’s been right since you got that damn thing, and I . . . “

He trailed off, then opened the van door and stomped out. Emma lay back down, curling in on herself. She couldn’t get that last look in Killian’s eyes out of her mind. She didn’t understand any of it: why the dreamcatcher had coincided with the bizarre dreams, why the man seemed so real, or why Neal had gotten so angry. All she knew was that without the dreamcatcher, she felt bereft, like a part of her had been ripped away.

******************************************************************

Emma didn’t dream of him again. Neal kept asking her. He knew she was telling him the truth. For one, Emma was a surprisingly horrible liar. Second, she hadn’t once awoken crying out or sweating since he broke the dreamcatcher.

Yet his Emma simply hadn’t been the same since. Worry seemed to always wrinkle her brow, and she was often distant, like she was gazing off into a dreamworld that he couldn’t see. He cursed that damn dreamcatcher! His old warning bells had gone off when he’d seen it: the same ones that had plagued him when Wendy Darling had mentioned the shadow at her window. He should have gotten rid of it earlier; he knew what magic really was. But fear of having to tell Emma the truth about his past had made him hesitate. How could he have expressed the danger of a magical object without sounding like a lunatic? And now magic had cost him yet another girl that he loved, just like Wendy.

Just like his mother before her.

Killian? A handsome pirate with a hook named Killian? Neal’s hand clasping Emma’s tightened. Could it really be the same guy? He was still working for Pan when Neal left Neverland, so it was entirely possible he supposed. But through Emma’s dreams? And why Emma? It wasn’t even like Hook had magic himself. What game was he playing? Was this still about killing Neal’s father?

“Ow!” Emma exclaimed, yanking her hand away and rubbing it. “Afraid I’ll run away?”

Her words startled him, hitting way too close to home, but the grin on her face made him relax. Emma adored him, she would never take off like his mother did. And yes, he knew all along Hook was right. His mother had left him. Left his father, yes, but it was the same thing. She chose adventure and romance over her own son, and it left a gaping hole in his heart that nothing could ever fill.

“Sorry,” he sighed, pulling Emma close. He didn’t know what to say, so he just held her.

“Hey,” she said, pulling back to look into his face, “this isn’t still about those weird dreams, is it? Because they weren’t, like, sex dreams or anything.” She bit her lip and blushed in that cute way she had.

“Cause you only have those about me, right?”

She giggled, pressing her face against the crook of his neck. She was so innocent; it was one of the things he adored about her. He held her tighter.

“And now you’re choking me,” she joked, exaggerating a breathless voice.

He laughed at the sparkle that was back in her eyes, but then he saw something over her shoulder, and his chuckle drifted off. Emma shook him gently.

“What’s up?”

Neal shook his head to clear it. “Um, nothing, just . . . “ he reached into his pocket and pulled out the little cash they had left. They’d need to lift some more cash soon, maybe hit the park where mothers wouldn’t be watching their purses. He pressed the money into Emma’s hand. “Go over to that diner and get us some burgers.”

“Really?” Emma squealed, throwing her arms around his neck. “And onion rings?’

“Mhm, get us a booth. I’ll be right there. I just have to take care of one quick thing.”

He flashed her a smile so she wouldn’t worry, and she kissed him briefly before heading across the street. Once she was safely inside the diner, Neal turned and went inside the store that had distracted him a moment ago. Stepping inside made his chest tighten with anxiety: it was filled floor to ceiling with magic. The painted window proclaimed: Moana’s Curio Shop. A woman with tanned skin and long black hair stepped out of the back store room. She wore a flowery, one-shouldered, sundress, and another large flower was clipped in her hair. She didn’t look like the sort of person who possessed magic or ran a shop like this, but Neal knew from experience that looks can be deceiving. Pan and his Lost Boys were the greatest example of that.

“May I help you?” she young woman asked, tilting her head as she appraised him. Whatever she saw, it made a slow smile spread across her face. She marched closer, propping her hands on her hips in a scrutinizing fashion. “Never mind pretense, you are just like me, aren’t you?”

Neal shuffled nervously. “I have no idea what you mean.”

“Mhm,” she replied with a knowing grin, “stick to that story if you want.”

“I am looking for a particular item.”

“Oh really?” she asked casually as she re-organized a shelf of incense.

“My girlfriend had a dreamcatcher . . . “ he trailed off, grasping a handful of hair in frustration. How did he even begin to explain?

“And you don’t like where it’s taking her?”

“Well, I solved that problem. I broke the dreamcatcher.”

The woman shook her head and clucked her tongue. “It may have closed the opening to the dream world, but she’s still connected to the person who’s dreams she infiltrated.”

Neal’s eyes widened. “Um, what?”

She arched a brow at him. ”Don’t play dumb. You already expected as much.”

She didn’t even wait for an answer. She went to the front of the store where a display of dreamcatchers hung from the ceiling. As she placed it into his eager hands, Neal felt relief wash over him. He’d have Emma back.

************************************************************

Emma arched a brow and laughed at Neal’s eager expression, the dreamcatcher he had bought her dangling from his fingers.

“Sorry?” he asked hesitantly.

Emma threw her arms around him and kissed his cheek. He’d been so weird about the dreamcatcher and even weirder about her dreams, but this showed just how badly he felt about all of it. It was kind of cute, actually, how jealous he got of a dream guy who wasn’t even real. He watched her intently as she grasped the new dreamcatcher in her hands. The room spun and the colors of the dreamcatcher seemed to meld together.

Emma stumbled, then shook her head. She smiled at Neal and kissed his cheek.

“Aw, you remembered how I liked the granola family’s dreamcatcher! Thank you!”

“You um,” he licked his lips nervously, “never had one before, right?”

“No,” Emma said, shaking her head and smiling as she watched it spin, “I never have.”

[galadrieljones]

The Lily Farm - Chapter 33

AO3 | Masterpost

Rating: M (Mature) - sexual content, violence, and adult themes

Summary: To help her process Sean’s death, Mary Beth asks Arthur to take her on a hunting trip, somewhere far away. He agrees, and on their journey to the north, they find quietude and take comfort in their easy bond. They’ve been friends for a while now, but life, like the wilderness, is full of uncertainty and complications, and as they embark on their desperate search for meaning together, they endure many trials, some small, some big—all of which bring them closer to one another, and to their future.

Chapter 33: Faith, Hope and Love, Pt. 2

It was the first of October and unseasonably warm in the state of New Hanover. The day before, the Reverend and the Mother Superior had stopped in Rhodes to see the red clay dirt and to talk of God and his many shapes and formulas. Swanson wanted to study the marriage vows as well, as it had been a long time since he’d performed any such ritual and even longer since he had thought about the meaning of love. They walked through the town, silently, getting the red dust on their boots, and they gave money to a sad veteran and then they found a little wedding going on at the chapel, between a very young man and a very young woman who both looked about eighteen years old. The young woman had a pregnant belly under her modest blue dress and there was nobody else in attendance except for them and a few worshippers only half-listening in the pews. It didn’t seem to affect anything about the way that they looked at each other. They were in love.

Swanson wondered if they had run away or if they were orphaned or what was going on. It put him in distress. He thought of Arthur as a very young man and all that had happened to him. A couple of times, he had gone with Arthur to see Isaac, when Arthur was only maybe 25. He was not the only one who had met Isaac back in those days. Hosea, too, had gone to meet the boy, and even John. Swanson couldn’t remember whether Dutch had ever gone or not, but he strongly remembered Dutch urging Arthur to bring them both back to the gang with him, where he could keep an eye on things. Dutch didn’t see anything good coming out of Eliza living alone. Of course, he had been right. He was often right in those days, but those days had gone south some time ago.

Isaac had been a serious child, and very sweet. He was shy and sensitive. But he was not sad. He just preferred caution, and solitude. He liked crayons and paper, and he liked to sing. He was happy, and he always remembered Swanson and Hosea when they came. He liked kites. Swanson remembered Isaac and Arthur going into town once to purchase a kite, and then flying the kite together on the lawn. It was a magnificent shade of red against the bright blue sky. Isaac had a very thick head of dirty blond hair, like Arthur, but Eliza’s dark eyes, and he trusted Arthur, idolized him even, despite Arthur’s limited presence in his life. Eliza trusted Arthur, too. Eliza and Arthur were good friends, it seemed, and maybe they were trying to reignite something, but Swanson did not remember them being in love. Arthur had already started up with Mary at this point, though it was new and not something anyone spoke of. Whatever he had with Eliza, it was responsibility. It was trying for a very adult arrangement, in a way, and of this, Swanson remembered being proud. Arthur tried very hard. He did the best that he could for as long as he could.

The last day Arthur went to see them, the gang was camped nearby, and he was supposed to just be gone for the night, but he never came back. Nobody knew what was going on. He was gone for several days with no word. Finally Dutch went out to find him, and Swanson and Hosea went along because they were very worried. Bad things had been happening. The O’Driscolls were a different animal in those days, and the blood feud was fresh in Annabelle's wake. They searched for a long time. When they finally found Arthur, he was lying in a creek with all his clothes off, and he hadn’t eaten, and he was half-dead with whiskey. At first, they thought he’d been kidnapped and left for dead, but that was not the case. He couldn’t speak through the booze or the weeping, but eventually he did manage a few words. They got em, he said. Got em both.

Dutch and Hosea hauled him up and got him dressed and Swanson helped Dutch ride him home while Hosea went into Butte to see what the hell was going on. When he came back a day later, he said he’d gone and found Eliza's father, learned that she and the boy were dead, robbed and killed—maybe by bandits, but it could have been debt collectors. Nobody was sure, and there was no way to know, and Arthur couldn’t tell them anything.

Nobody blamed Arthur for their deaths—other than Arthur. Eliza’s father, it turned out, had always liked Arthur. He was sick, and they were a poor silver mining family, and they didn’t think much for the law as it had provided them with very little in those days, and so he thought that Arthur, despite his reputation, was decent for all he provided to his daughter—monetarily, and in the way of companionship. It wasn’t long then before Dutch went on his vendetta, trying to find the men responsible. Of course, he failed. The men responsible were not O’Driscolls. They were nobodies, in the wind. They were ghosts, and you cannot catch ghosts or shoot them in the back.

Swanson thought about their deaths almost every day now. How random, and how needless they had been. He remembered Mary staying away for a long time after that. One night, she came, a couple of weeks after it happened, and Arthur could not face her properly because of the booze. Hosea’s wife, Bessie—she had a kind streak, and she was the one to send her away. Mary seemed ashamed and upset with herself as if the whole thing were somehow her fault. Swanson found her crying near the camp, and he asked her if she was okay and needed a place to sleep, but she just got stoic and rode away and did not come back for a long time. She was not too self-sufficient when it came to dames, and Swanson worried for her safety, but he didn’t know she had a family. One day she came back, and it was okay again. Arthur came out to see her. He was nearly sober, and it all changed, very slowly, but he never really recovered. Not for years. Swanson was certain that this had been what poisoned his relationship with Mary—more so than her father, or any of that nonsense about his lifestyle. He would have left the life. He wanted to marry her, but she couldn’t make the choice. She begged him for a child, so he could make the choice for her, but he wanted a promise, a guarantee. Few people knew this about what happened between them. Reverend Swanson was one of the few.

That day, back in Rhodes, he and the Mother Superior left the chapel wedding and went to the saloon, where they shared a pitcher of lemonade, and continued their discussion:

“Love is about more than repopulation of the earth,” said Sister Calderón, taking a big drink. “Not all those in love will have children, but that does not take away the fact that their love is true. Love is like a tree. It fills the air with life. It is necessity to living.”

That night, they took the red-eye train overnight to Emerald Station. Arthur’s money had been enough to buy them both tickets and a meal in the dining car. When they were too tired to continue, they sat in separate rows, and though Swanson slept very little, Sister Calderón seemed to fall away into dreaming with hardly any trying at all. He wondered what that must be like, to be so safe inside your faith that you slept without fear.

Swanson leaned with his forehead against the cool glass, watching the hills and the plains and the meadows go by. He thought of Mary Beth. In the days when he was so drunk he could hardly see, Mary Beth had been kind to him. She was a kind girl. She was a little like Eliza, a little like Bessie, a little like Annabelle. All of them, he thought, but she was not them. She was loud and openminded, and she didn’t get dour, but she did get pensive, and she was no moral paragon, but she got pissed off when men said the untrue thing. She brought him coffee all the time. She would try to set him straight. Get it together, Reverend. We need you, she would say. She had a good head on her shoulders. She was even teaching that O'Driscoll to read. He did not know if she was lying all those times she told him he was valuable to the gang, but even if she was, it helped. It always did. She was good for Arthur. Sometimes, he worried that after Eliza, and then Mary, Arthur would be alone forever. He had a talent for self-punishment of the likes the Reverend had never seen—outside himself, of course. The drinking, the loneliness. But now, he was not going to be alone anymore.

Eventually, Swanson drifted off to sleep with the sunrise, feeling hungry but cleansed from the day. They made an early morning stop in Valentine, where the train idled for a little while and many passengers boarded on their way up north. Swanson awoke to Sister Calderón shaking his shoulders and the loud sound of the train whistle, like a foghorn.

“Reverend,” she said as she nudged him, ceaseless. “Reverend, wake up. I cannot carry you to Mr. Morgan’s wedding. You must carry yourself!”

He sat straight up. “I am ready,” he said, feeling like he was facing fifty directions at once. “I am ready, Sister.”

“Of course you are,” said Sister Calderón. “That much was never in doubt. Now, let’s go, quickly. I need to stretch my legs! It is a beautiful day!”

Meanwhile, Arthur was out with Lawrence Winterson in the barn, feeding the hounds their lunch and talking about the minor complexities of their lives.

“It feels like the closer we get to leaving,” said Arthur, sitting in a wooden table chair, scrubbing one of the pretty mutts behind the ears, “the more loose ends we’ve got to tie. There are responsibilities pulling at me from all sides. And all of this…uncertainty.”

He watched as Lawrence finished pouring the kibble in the red bowls. The hounds all went to the bowls upon the noise. There were five in all. Lawrence was a thin man but hale, his hair very gray and peppery. He stood up and dusted his hands together. “I thought you would have been accustomed to uncertainty by now, given what I know about your life. I mean that realistically, not as an insult.”

“I understand,” said Arthur, looking down at his knuckles. “And I am accustomed to uncertainty. Just not like this.”

“You mean Mary Beth?”

“Yes.” He thought he should be asking Hosea about all this in the end, but it was too messed up. Too close to home. He was looking for objectivity. “I went from—beating down debtors for money, robbing small town banks, and just a whole hell of a lot of…what you might call mercenary work…to this. To getting married, having a baby with a girl I’ve known for four years. You know I never been able to make it work before, a better life—whatever that means—but I never really gave it the try it deserved. I should have. Many years ago. I’ve had…a lot of chances that I blew. I blew em real bad. But now, it’s different, and part of that is because Mary Beth, she’s in it with me. This—predicament. She ain’t like me. She’s innocent to a whole lot, but she’s still a outlaw. She still runs with wanted men, and she don’t got the price on her head, but she does have this sort of…thing about her.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, she’s wanted in three locals west of the Mississippi. For thieving. All petty stuff. They’d never hang her. But still. It’s all she knows. She was orphaned at twelve, almost the same as me, lived on the streets. She never had no chance. She’s lucky she made it this far. We both are. And we owe Dutch, and Hosea. They—gave us everything that we got. I mean hell, they taught me to read. They took care of me. Now, getting free—it’s like we’re untangling the roots of a thousand year old oak tree, trying to dig it up with our bare hands. It ain’t even about the money, I mean—I got money. For us. Me and John, together, we got just enough. But there are so many more. There are good people. Innocents and people who got nothing and nowhere to turn to but the goddam gang. It’s been the only family a lot of us have ever known. We leave them behind, exposed, in the lurch, I know that we will never be able to outrun that, and the guilt, it’ll tear us apart.” He took a deep breath. He’d never been able to see things so clearly in all his life, and yet the path was hidden.

Lawrence sighed and placed his hands in his pockets. He leaned against one of the heavy, load-bearing beams of the barn. He did not seem overwhelmed by any of this. He was so calm, so even as a man. “You seem very wise to your predicament, Arthur,” he said. “I don’t know what you’re looking for. It seems you know exactly what you have to do.”

“I do?”

“All I can say is,” said Lawrence, “consult Mary Beth. And remember that from here on out, you’re partners. Whatever decisions you make about your lives, like the kind of decision on whether or not you think you can leave people behind, just make sure you do it together, and that both of you are all in. You might be surprised at what happens.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, do you think I expected to end up owning a bed and breakfast in New Hanover?”

Arthur thought on it. He slouched back in the chair, placed his hands on his belt. “What was you expecting?”

“Something far more exciting, I assure you,” said Lawrence, smiling. “Then again, I’ve met you. And I’ve met Dutch van der Linde. Excitement comes in all forms, I suppose.”

Arthur found this to be tremendously funny. He took a toothpick from behind his ear and set it between his teeth as he laughed. “Well, that is true.”

The hounds finished their eating, licking their paws. Some of them licked their bowls. But then, all at once then as if on some sort of cue, they perked up and went for the barn door, scratching and barking. Lawrence slung the shotgun over his shoulder. He threw open the doors but whistled for them to disperse. They sped up the grass toward the two familiar faces coming in on foot, but then they split off, going in all directions. A few came back to lick their bowls. The rest disappeared into the tree line.

“Is that your Reverend?” said Lawrence, taking off his glasses to clean them.

Arthur stood, vindicated. “That is him.”

“Who’s that with him? A sister of the church?”

“Yeah,” said Arthur, standing now. “That there is Sister Calderón, Mother Superior at the Catholic church in St. Denis. I’m not sure what she’s doing here, but I guess it’s a good thing.”

“Another blessing, perhaps?” said Lawrence.

Arthur was chewing that toothpick to little splinters. He waved. They waved back. Sister Calderón was rushing toward him. “It’s nothing less than a blessing, I assume.”

“Mr. Morgan!” she said. She dropped her valise as soon as she got to him. To his surprise, she hugged him. Quick, but tight. She held his hands in both of hers. “Congratulations.”

“Thank you, Sister,” he said. “Now don’t shoot me, but I must say I am mighty surprised to see you here.”

“She’s with me. I hope it's all right,” said Swanson, wiping the sweat from his brow with a white handkerchief from his pocket. “She’s here for…guidance.”

Arthur placed his hand on Swanson’s shoulder. “I knew you’d come, and of course it's all right.”

“Thank you, Arthur. It is an honor.”

Arthur introduced Lawrence then who saw them both inside. But Arthur stayed out for a little while. He went to water the horses and then to brush out Sarah’s mane, as he assumed Mary Beth was busy, and he didn’t much feel like any more idle chit chat with anyone other than her. He leaned against Sarah and put some braids in her mane, and he smoked a cigarette for his nerves.

“What do I do, girl?” he said to her, patting her behind the ear. “What do I do?” She nuzzled him. He fed her a sugar cube, which she enjoyed. He smiled, comforted. Horses were simple.

Hamish arrived. He tied up Buell and came up holding a fishing tackle box that he had filled with a few things for the trip. He did not carry many earthly goods with him. A random weary traveler looking for a bed had come through as well the night before—a man by the name of Kelly—and so the Wintersons, with the unexpected presence of the Mother Superior, were one room short. John and Abigail offered to bunk in the kids’ room with Jack, but Hamish called it unnecessary. He said he’d just set up his tent and sleep on the lawn. Everyone thought he was kidding except for Arthur, who found it totally in character.

For an altar, John nailed together a cross with pieces of sawed lumber from the shed. Abigail decorated it with some wildflowers that Jack had gathered from the edges of the property, all while Lizette helped Mary Beth into her dress, and she braided her hair and kept things very simple, but pretty. Hosea gave Arthur a horseshoe he’d found in the stable and some little sleigh bells from Lizette’s sewing drawer to keep in his front pocket. “For good luck,” he said. Dutch gave to Arthur the tailored silver jacket, which immediately solved Arthur’s lack of certainty over what to wear.

“It’s…wonderful,” said Arthur, admiring himself in the mirror in Lizette’s sewing room—the same room where Lawrence had stitched up his arm many weeks before. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, my boy,” said Dutch, smoking his pipe. “A man needs to look his best on a day like this.”

“I hope you didn’t pay too much.”

“Don’t worry about that. I’d spare no cost.”

Arthur sighed. Accepting the jacket from Dutch was difficult for him. It put guilt inside him, even as he wanted to believe that it was provided free of condition. It got him so messed up. Arthur allowed himself to be flattered either way. He was impressed by how Dutch had estimated his measurements, and the jacket truly was beautiful. He didn't want to make room in his chest for more questions, even as they forced in against his will. He swallowed it all down. Learning the truth about Annabelle had made Arthur sympathize with Dutch in the way of men rather than to see him as a father, and in some ways, this made things even more difficult than before. He wanted to talk to Dutch, as friends, comrades. He wished they could find a way to unravel the many layers of subterfuge and showmanship surrounding their relationship, but he didn't know when, or how. It was so hard, planning a confrontation like that. He didn't know how, and it was not the right time. His only recourse on that day was to ask neither Dutch nor Hosea to stand beside him during the ceremony. He asked only John.

Because even after so many years of being at odds with one another, John was true. Arthur knew this, and unlike anything with Dutch, he knew he could count on it. John was uncomplicated in his loyalty to Arthur, and once he made a choice, the choice was made. Arthur wasn't great at communicating his appreciation for this, but he tried. He did. He hoped that choosing him for a groomsman would show John that he was serious—about leaving, about their friendship, about everything.

The ceremony was held at sundown. It was very simple and pretty. John stood beside Arthur, looking proud and young. Abigail stood beside Mary Beth. The rest of them all stood around watching in a half-circle with their hands clasped in front of them or behind their backs, or their hands in their pockets. There was a breeze coming through to cool their cheeks. The sky was red.

“Love is patient,” said the Reverend. He was nervous, but he was so happy for Arthur and clear with sobriety that day that he found himself growing sentimental at almost every turn. “Love is kind. It does not envy, and it does not boast. It is not proud. It does not dishonor others. It is not self-seeking, nor is it easily angered. It keeps no record of wrongs. Love does—it does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth.” He looked at Mary Beth then. She looked very young but beautiful in her dress. She was sort of silly, he thought. She liked to have fun. That day, she looked at Arthur like she was both relieved and also excited. She seemed to hurry along the Reverend with her posture, standing up on her tip-toes even though she did not have to, like she was eager to get it over with so she could kiss her groom and get on with her life. She wore no veil, only a modest crown of daisies, made for her by Jack. She took an eyelash off of Arthur’s cheek, which amused Arthur. She held it out to him, and he blew it off her finger for a wish.

“Love always protects,” Swanson continued, smiling, adjusting his collar, addressing his notes, and his Bible. Arthur and Mary Beth both looked at him as the wind rustled through their hair and Mary Beth's dress. “It always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres.” He then addressed his congregation, suddenly infused with a strange confidence. “A very wise woman once taught me that love is about more than procreating the earth.” He looked at Sister Calderón. She was excited. She waved at him, urging him forward. He nodded once, cleared his throat. “She said, ‘Love is like a tree.’ It is life-giving. That is what she meant. It provides. All life must end, but a life full of love is a life provided for. It affirms who we are, what we want, what we’re made of, our potential.” He looked at Arthur. Arthur was very calm. You could sort of see the gears turning behind his eyes as he contemplated this day, but it was all slow. It was very slow and even. “Love can be lost,” said Swanson, thinking of his own life, thinking of Isaac. “But it can be found again, as we witness today the union of two lost souls who have, in the time since they’ve met, found completion within one another. Life is—it is ever trying. But we cannot give up.” He blinked. He saw Dutch, standing near the front, his eyes heavy, cast down to the earth. “We cannot give up,” said Swanson. He closed his own eyes. Then he looked at Arthur once more, and Arthur nodded.

Swanson continued on to the rings after that. The rest of the ceremony came to him easily. He didn't fumble for the words, nor did he have to look at his notes. Arthur had a very pretty ring with a purple stone for Mary Beth, and Mary Beth surprised everyone, including Arthur, by having a ring for him as well, one that she had stowed away in the pocket of her dress. It was a gold band.

“I bought this,” she said to Arthur as she fitted the ring on his finger, “from an estate sale in Blackwater. Boy, that seems like another life now, don't it? Anyway, I thought it was fine, because it has a pretty filigree on the metal, and I kept it in a jewelry box, because I thought maybe one day I’d get to give it to a man that I loved. I wouldn’t wanna give him contraband. I was always dreaming. The day after you proposed, I put it in Watson’s saddlebag so that I’d always have it. I was ready for this day.” She was smiling, holding his hand in both of hers. “I didn’t know it would fit though," she continued. "That’s a nice surprise.”

Everyone laughed, even Arthur, who was looking down at the ring. He was not a man prone to ornamental decoration, but this was okay. It was pretty, and it was from her. He looked at the Reverend, full of decision then, the first real decision he had ever made in his adult life. He cleared his throat. “Let’s get on with it,” he said. “Read the vows, Reverend.”

The sun was almost down now, leaving a ring of gold over the trees.

[a-gay-bloodmage]

—Princess—

Pairing: Sera x Female Trevelyan

Pairing Type: F/F

Words: 2,227

Warnings: Okay This Was Cute, Orlesian Parties Call For Princess-y Dresses Okay, Vivienne is a Very Good Friend, and has a Great Eye For Good Ball Dresses

Sure, Kiora had a fancy-pants last name, but Sera didn't think of her as a nob. She was magic, first of all, and she was a little dopey and dumb and sweet and nothing like the shrewd bastards with razor-sharp gazes she allegedly came from.

Kiora always wore robes that fit just right—fabric was stretched to accommodate her big bust, falling gracefully to cover but still show her pudgy tummy, and pulled tight again over wide hips and a perfect butt, the ends of the fabric pooling just a little at her toes. She liked silver jewelry, her dangly silver earrings and pretty silver necklace both decorated with beautiful violet gemstones the same colour as her strange violet eyes. But, for all the beauty that she had, she didn't look noble. She looked like she could stand alongside people like Vivienne, all dolled up for fancy-pants nobles but stuck in robes and gossiped about behind their pretty, magical backs.

Sera honestly never thought she'd see Kiora in anything but her usual clothing.

Halamshiral was one thing, and seeing Kiora in anything but a black or dark purple robe was jarring. She looked horribly uncomfortable in the pants Josephine had forced her into, unable to walk properly for hours. Her usual dark purple eye shadow and lip colour didn't really go with the blue, yellow, and red, but Sera knew she needed something to tie the horrible outfit to her typical getup. The poor little mage was not supposed to be in pants. That was probably Mage Rule Number One. No pants, ever.

After Coryphe-whatsit was dead, and the Mage-Templar war was, for the most part, ended, a lot of nobles were aching to meet the chubby little mage that had closed the Breach and saved their asses. Which meant attending parties, and a lot of them. Sera was always on Kiora's arm, her constant companion in the fight against boredom.

And with Sera and Kiora was Vivienne. She loved attending parties with the Inquisitor, and was getting better at tolerating Sera's lack of social graces. Kiora was actually a wonderful student when it came to learning the art of the ballroom, and Vivienne was delighted by the fact. It could've been her thirteen years of nobility before the Circle that made her such a quick learner, but Sera doubted it. Kiora was just naturally a passive people-pleaser—something nobles loved powerful mages to be.

"Alright, my dear," Vivienne said, clasping her hands together. "Duke Délavé will expect our darling Inquisitor to be in only the finest of dresses!"

Kiora audibly groaned, making Sera laugh. The two of them were bored out of their minds—especially Sera. She didn't want to go to some fancy ball thrown by some fancy Orlesian nob.

Vivienne sighed, shaking her head. Her smile was still present under her exasperation. She liked Kiora a lot despite the younger mage's soft indifference to most of her lessons. Kiora liked spending time with Vivienne, not nobles. "Well, my dear, remember that appearance is as powerful as any magic," Vivienne said, her hands on Kiora's shoulders. She directed Kiora's gaze into the mirrors in front of them. Her soft, dark brown hands contrasted sharply with Kiora's pale, waxen skin, holding her like she was a chubby little porcelain doll.

Sera was currently lounging on one of the excessively decorated fainting couches in Duke What's-his-Name's guest bedroom, Kiora's cat Miss Match napping on her stomach. Kiora's cats were great for keeping Sera's hands busy with petting while she was forced to sit through boring little talks. Well, she wasn't actually forced to be here, she just wanted to see what nonsense Vivienne would put Kiora in.

"Aren't my robes nice enough?" Kiora asked, looking down at her chest. They were beautiful, really, their dark colour and flowy fabric. Sera couldn't help but say something in her lady's defense.

"Yeah, Viv," she said, making the cat on her stomach wake up with a little murp sound. "She's already friggin' beautiful. Why stuff her in some fancy-pants dress?"

Vivienne raised a perfect eyebrow. "Everything in a court is about appearance, dear Sera," she said. "Have you never paid a second of attention?" Her light eyes quickly flickered over Sera's body. "It's obvious you've never applied my advice."

Sera rolled her eyes. Who cares what some nob-ish mage thinks? She thought, sticking her tongue out. "Whatever. It's not like she has to climb some dumb social ladder. She's the Inquisitor."

Kiora nodded in agreement.

Vivienne sighed, leaning a little more of her weight onto the shorter mage. "Well, it could be fun, then," she said, her full, pretty lips quirking up in a smile. "I won't stuff you into heels, dear."

"Well..." Kiora looked back and smiled at Vivienne. "You haven't led me astray yet, Vivienne..." Vivienne's smile was genuine. "But I will need a cigar first."

• • ♡ • •

Vivienne was mad. Utterly mad.

Sera had come along with her into the massive closet that had been stocked for the noblewomen visiting the Orlesian Duke's court, apparently kept so that those coming from other nations would fit into the Orlesian ballroom. Sera thought it was a whole lot of wasteful nonsense, and Kiora's shock at the mass of dresses seemed to indicate she, too, thought it was absurd. Nobles obviously did everything they could to spend their gold.

"Now," Vivienne said, almost gliding as she pushed Sera and Kiora down deeper into the closet. "Obviously, we'll be sticking to the violets and blacks." Vivienne smiled a little as she shook her head. "What is it you find so fascinating about a funeral's colour scheme?"

Kiora laughed in her adorable, whispery laugh, shrugging. Smoke from her elfroot cigar curled from her pretty purple-painted lips, and made the room smell less like slightly aged fabric and more like incense. "It's comfortable... And it works with my... complexion?"

It was adorable seeing her try to speak Vivienne's language.

"The purple does match your undereyes," Vivienne said, amused. Kiora didn't bother getting offended. "And Sera, dear, do tell me if you see anything that catches your eye."

Sera looked at the light dresses they passed, and figured she'd drown in all the fabric. Her thin frame would hardly fill out all the space nobles left for hips and tits. But they were pretty.

"Oh, Vivienne," Kiora said, halting Sera and Vivienne in their tracks. She had her cigar between her teeth, hands wandering over a lovely bit of purple fabric. Violet silk was mixed with black velvet, pinching it were the waist would be and flaring out, its neckline low and back exposed. As much as Kiora distanced herself from the nobility she came from, it was obvious she was in love.

"That is quite the design," Vivienne remarked, taking the dress from its place among the others and holding it in her hands. Sera was impressed. Someone must have spent forever on the damn thing. She held it up against Kiora's body. "And it does look like it may fit if I pull it right..." She nodded. "Should we look for some secondary options?" The dress was enveloped in a film of white magic, left hovering just behind the Knight Enchanter.

They ended up with two more dresses for Kiora to try on, both of them—of course—violet and black.

As they were walking back to the chambers from the depths of the tulle-filled hell, Sera couldn't help but get her eye caught on something yellow and covered in lace.

Kiora noticed her stall, and stopped to follow Sera's eyes. "Ooh," she cooed, touching the yellow fabric. "Wouldn't she look nice in yellow, Vivienne?"

"She would," Vivienne said, eyes narrowed in thought, staring at Sera as opposed to the dress. She pulled the dress from its placement, letting it hover with the others. There was no way she was finishing this day off without getting stuffed in it.

Kiora wrapped her chubby arms around Sera's slender frame, cigar making the air warm in addition to her body heat. Maker, Kiora was like a human heat pad.

• • ♡ • •

Vivienne kicked Sera out of the room as soon as she made Kiora start trying on her dresses.

Is this what grooms feel like before weddings? She thought, sighing as she laid down on a crevice, holding her dress. Ugh, I just wanna see tadwinks in that dress... After a second, she felt herself blush. Here she was, thinking about wedding stuff. Slow down, Sera.

She felt a sharp little paw on her arm, and looked down to see a chubby little black cat, one green and one blue eye staring at her.

"You got booted out, too?" She asked, laughing a little as she gave the little cat a pat on the head. Miss' sad little meow was an obvious yes. "Viv's so serious about all this nob shite..." She rolled her eyes. Over the years, Sera had gotten along with Vivienne better. Kiora really liked the Knight Enchanter, so Sera sort of got swept along in the liking. Vivienne wasn't that bad. She was just serious about really boring things, and thought Templars were necessary. Kiora had made it obvious they weren't, but they kept their disagreements civil and quiet.

She felt like she was in that hallway for hours before Vivienne finally pulled her into an adjacent room, setting her in front of an equally opulent and ugly Orlesian mirror.

"It's nice to see that perhaps this boyish style of yours can mature, Sera, dear," she said, smiling to either Sera or herself. Probably herself.

"Hey, dresses are cool, just, you know, not for kicking butt," she shrugged. She doubted she would be a good Jenny if she was always tripping over fancy fabric. "So I don't wear 'em."

"Well, I doubt any ass-kicking will happen tonight," Vivienne laughed in her low, rich, courtly laugh. "And if need be, you are accompanied by two very talented mages."

Sera rolled her eyes. She could be as damsel-in-distress-y she wanted with Vivienne and Kiora around.

"Alright, off with the clothes." Vivienne had a talent for making a command sound like a polite inquiry you were compelled to follow. Like Josephine.

"Hey, I'm a committed lady," Sera laughed, easily pulling off her top, then toeing off her boots, then pulling off her leggings. "No wandering eyes, Viv."

"Wouldn't dream of it." She held the yellow dress in her hands, observing it closely and with the eye of a true veteran of the court. "Well built, very slimming and simple," she said to herself, nodding. "Yes, this will do quite well for you." She looked up to Sera and gave a soft smile. "Excellent choice."

Sera hated that Vivienne's praise made her face heat up.

It was a bit of a process to get on the seemingly simple dress, the straps and lace and under layers and all sorts incredibly hard to keep track of. Especially to someone as inexperienced as Sera. Vivienne had to force her to sit to brush her messy blonde hair, apply neat charcoal around her eyes, and oil to her lips. It was hardly a touch of makeup, but when Sera looked in the mirror, she hardly recognized herself. She looked almost wealthy, like a dressed-up doll.

She really wanted to see what Kiora looked like, but Vivienne said she'd have to wait until the ball.

What utter bullshit.

• • ♡ • •

Sera rushed into the ballroom as fast as she could, not caring about how many offended nobles she nearly bumped into. She had to find her tadwinks.

A bob of unusually smooth black hair caught her eye, and she bolted over.

"Tadwinks!"

Kiora turned around, and smiled open-mouthed when she saw Sera.

"You... look like a princess!" They both said at the same time, standing dead still.

"Sera! Your dress!" Kiora was in awe, her hands on Sera after a second, feeling the soft fabric and lace. "It's beautiful! You're beautiful!" Her voice was still that sleepy whisper, but it was obvious she was excited.

"Speak for yourself!" Sera laughed, grabbing Kiora's soft, round face. Vivienne had made an attempt to fix Kiora's messy eyebrows, and her makeup was incredible. Smoky purple eye shadow, slightly powered face, blushing cheeks, and dark violet lips. Her silver earrings dangled amongst her brushed hair.

Her long silver necklace laid against her large chest, falling just above her generous cleavage. The dress' neckline showed off said cleavage wonderfully, and her shoulders were on display in all their wonderful softness. Her waist curved in a little more than usual, and the dress flared out in violet silk until it pooled on the floor.

She really did look like a princess. A beautiful, beautiful princess.

They spent the rest of the night ignoring nobles and convincing Vivienne to dance with them, no matter how bad they were. When Kiora spun, her dress flared out. And Sera really liked to spin her.

She was winded and covered in dark purple lipstick by the time the party winded down, her mask-less face showing off the princess's kisses to the most jealous Orlesians she'd ever seen. Sera's princess was hers and hers alone, and she was quite planning on keeping it that way forever.

[acuppellarp]

Welcome (again) to A Cup-pella, Jeanne! We’re excited to have you and Haley Sterling in the game! Please go through the checklist to make sure you’re ready to go and send in your account within the next 24 hours. 

OOC INFO

Name + pronouns: Jeanne Age: 25 Timezone: EST Ships: Haley/Chemistry, Haley/Nerdiness Anti-Ships: Haley/NoChem

IC INFO

Full Name: Haley Nicole Sterling Face Claim: Virginia Gardner Age/Birthday: 23 / September 17, 1995 Occupation: Part-time acup barista, part-time level 1 instructor through NYC Ultra Gymnastics, part-time student at NYU, defender for April’s Showers Personality: Competitive, impulsive, determined, naive, ditzy Hometown: San Francisco, CA

Bio:

Oh, the Sterling family. If there was ever a group more fitted for a reality TV show on TLC, it was them. That’s how an outsider would see it, at least. For Haley, it was just her family. The first few years of her life were spent loving her parents and little sister, and then her second mom and her second dad came into the picture. Whenever she went over to her friends houses growing up, they introduced her to their parents. Haley did the same, it just so happened she had a few more parents than them. It wasn’t the picture that she saw on TV, but that didn’t really matter. She had a family that loved and doted on her, that’s what mattered. She was an incredibly content child - set her out in the backyard to run around and play, and she was a happy camper. Or set her up in her bedroom, playing with her little sister (once upon a time, Jemma really did play with barbie dolls properly). She was content, and she was friendly, always running up to strangers and asking if they wanted to be her friend. Needless to say, her parents had to have the stranger danger talk with her more times than she can count, but the fact remains that Haley has always been a people person, easily able to settle into a crowd.

Dedication isn’t a word many people would associate with Haley even today, and it never has been. She comes across as having her head in the clouds 9 times out of 10 and she wasn’t exactly a contender for valedictorian. She’s not the person you to go if you’re looking for reliability, and that’s why a lot of people are thrown off when they find out she’s been honing her skills as a gymnast since the age of 4. It wasn’t some kind of “love at first sight” moment, where Haley knew she wanted to make it her life from day one. On the contrary, she remembers crying in frustration when she couldn’t get a somersault down as easily as the other kids in her class (granted it was within the first week of classes, but Haley’s child mind didn’t care about that).

That’s why it was so invigorating when she finally nailed it by week two… Haley’s never been known for her patience, you see, but the one thing she’s got going for her is that she doesn’t quit. She doesn’t quit because of that same excitement she got when she perfected that first somersault right, followed by her first cartwheel, her first handstand, mastering her first forward tuck and everything over the next few years as she climbed up the levels. She was 8 years old, level 9, when she got her first first place award on the uneven bars, subsequently helping her team take home the win as well. That, my friends, is when Haley fell in love with the sweet taste of victory.

There wasn’t time for Haley to ever cultivate many other areas of extracurricular interest. She’d arrive at school an hour before classes started to make use of the gym’s empty weight room for strength and conditioning, and immediately after school she would make her way down to the gymnastics center for more hours worth of practice. Her dedication and prowess in the sport are what helped her lock in a scholarship offered by NYC Ultra, a gymnastics club located not too far away from NYU’s campus. The school itself didn’t have a gymnastics program, but NYC Ultra had scouted her during her final meet during high school and offered to help fund her higher education if she joined their team upon moving. And its a good thing they did, because her grades certainly wouldn’t be earning her any academic scholarships.

Leaving her family had her balling like a baby, but Haley found herself settling in to New York City life eventually. It was a much different pace than San Francisco, that was for sure. Still, Haley prides herself on never really feeling like a fish out of water, especially since she quickly made friends with the other members of her gym and then at school. Her decision to major in social work was based in her family’s own unconventional-but-still-good history, and as much as she struggled to maintain her school, practice, and work schedules, she did find herself liking the course she was on. She was a full-time student for her first two years, but recently after much debate and guidance from people significantly smarter than her, Haley made the choice to go from full-time student to part-time student.

At the same time, she also made the decision to retire from competing in gymnastics and try her hand at coaching, something she’s discovered a love for. She’s now certified to teach entry-level gymnastics, and she thinks she’s found a good balance to her life. It also lost her her academic scholarship, but with the time she’s freed up from her previously strict practice schedule and full-time course-load, it’s all been a relief. She can study without feeling pressured to make it a priority, and is able to both work and be involved in athletics at a pace that lets her enjoy herself rather than feeling constantly stressed. Sure her schedule is pretty packed, but it’s all things that bring her happiness, so it’s worth it.

See, the thing with Haley is that if she isn’t interested in something, it falls to the wayside. But once she finds her passion and groove, she is all in. That’s the reason why she can’t sit through an algebra class without daydreaming, but she’ll give you a point-by-point breakdown of why Laurie Hernandez should’ve taken the gold for the Women’s balance beam during the 2016 Olympics, or make an entire PowerPoint on why Digimon trumps Pokemon (she’s still gotta catch ‘em all though, make no mistake). She knows what she loves and doesn’t waste her time or energy on things that won’t end up bringing her personal happiness and fulfillment. Is that a good way to be successful in life? Probably not, but has it helped Haley get through the last 23 years with minimal sadness and reason to say she didn’t give something her all? Absolutely, 100%, a thousand times yes.

Pets: Haley has had iced coffees last longer than some goldfish. She’s pretty much given up on trying to keep any kind of pet alive at this point, so instead she has her bedroom windowsill decorated with succulents. They’re less likely to ruin her carpet and lose her her deposit.

Relationships:

Jemma Sterling — She’s the first person to admit that Jemma is far from perfect, but she’ll also attempt to rip anyone’s head off who dares insult or undersell her baby sister. Watch it, folks. Haley adores Jemma, even if she does worry her from time to time with just how… we’ll say just how “free” she can be. It’s probably not the best idea, but she trusts Jemma wholeheartedly. In a way, Haley is a little envious of how open her sister is with everything, but that’s a story for another time. She still loves her to the moon and back and then to the moon and back again.

Blair Anderson — Haley and Blair dated for a short time, but that didn’t make it hurt any less when the broke up. Or at least Haley calls it a break up — she won’t say it out loud, but a part of her felt completely jilted and forgotten about when Blair went on her cruise. It’s been months since they’re brief fling, and while Haley hates being anything less than UBER SUNSHINE HAPPINESS, she’s also still angry with Blair. Could she suck it up and just talk to her to get resolution? Of course she could. Has she? Absolutely not, Haley lacks that kind of foresight for common sense.

April’s Showers — Even though she replaced being on a gymnastics team with coaching, Haley did miss the extra boost of athleticism that came with constantly being in practice. She got the idea to join April’s soccer team from her sister, and it’s definitely been a big help in keeping her endorphin levels high and her laziness levels low. It feeds in to her competitive nature, and she digs almost everyone on the team so far. Being on the same team as her sister means they have to share the family brain cell at the same time, but Haley’s enjoying herself.

EXTRA INFO

mmmhalebop ☄️ / HaleyStorm / i’m secretly the fourth member of Hanson

Five latest tweets:

@HaleyStorm: @marvelstudios pls call my insurance company and tell them you’ll cover the surgery to have the heart you ripped out of my chest replaced @HaleyStorm: manny santos hiking up her thong will always be iconic #whateverittakes @HaleyStorm: #gymnastsecret - if you see me hold a position on the bar too long, it’s bc i 100% blanked on the rest of the routine @HaleyStorm: tba @HaleyStorm: !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! guess who just saw a dog, me it was me you don’t have to guess

[anthonyscribbles]

Feelings Suck

This one is one I'm actively working on, and finished chapter 1 like 20 minutes ago! I'm really happy with how this came out. However, this was not edited and there may be some mistakes. Just politely point them out and I'll fix 'em! With that said, here we go!!

    I gasp raggedly for breath as I’m pulled from the toilet, my hair and face drenched with the disgusting water. I hear a dark cackle from Logan as he dunks me once more. God, why does it always end up like this?

    Chapter 1: Hunter

    I sigh softly as I unlock my locker, head down like always. My name is Hunter, and I’m a junior at Sunnyside High School. Not a very fitting name, considering it’s a shithole. Excuse my language. But seriously, this place isn’t “sunny” at all. The kids bully each other 24/7, the teachers couldn’t care less whether we passed or flunked, the extracurriculars are practically nonexistent- Need I say more? I’m… kind of a nerd, so I care a lot about school. I want a place to hang out and learn, not be constantly harassed by kids my own age. If I wanted that, I would just live in the internet. But I can’t complain too much, I guess. I meet some pretty nice people, sometimes…

    There’s these two, and I’m kind of torn between them. First there’s Jenny Anderson, the cutest girl in the entire school. She’s sweet- always puts other people before herself- and really smart. She’s like the only kid in our school with straight A’s. She has amazingly soft, caramel brown hair and these wonderful, shining blue eyes that hold childlike innocence. She’s breathtaking. I think I’m in love with her, honestly. And I’m not invisible to her! We’ve actually been friends since my freshman year. She’s the same age as me, but her birthday is one month before mine.

    Then there’s Nathan “Nate” Stevens. He’s… how do I describe this? I guess I could say he’s… unique. He’s not weak by any definition- he’s actually really strong. He works out a lot, since he’s on the basketball team. He’s really tall, too; I think he’s in the six foot range. Way taller than me, at least. He’s really funny, always makes a joke that everyone can laugh it. He’s kind of a people pleaser, by some standards. He’s sweet, too, like Jenny. But he’s a bit more brash than Jenny is-- but not in a bad way! He’s just kind of loud and out there, y’know? He’s just a lot more outgoing. And that’s really what I like about him…

    See, I’m still figuring things out… about me. I don’t know if I like girls or guys or both, because I always find a guy or a girl that’s really attractive to me! It’s just really confusing. I think I like Jenny more than Nate, but then Nate finds something he’s really passionate about and I fall for him all over again. When he talks about something he’s really into, his green eyes sparkle like emeralds and he gets this dorky grin that he can’t wipe off for hours. It’s beyond adorable. Jenny and him are practically complete opposites, yet I find myself falling for both of them equally. Which means I guess I don’t really have a type? I don’t know.

    But high school isn’t just crushes and confusion, sadly. It’d be a lot easier to deal with if that was the case. Unfortunately, it’s not. There’s this one guy who’s a complete asshole- His name is Logan. He’s got this shitty ass black hair that he keeps spiked up with the nastiest smelling hair gel ever. He gets any girl he wants, but he only goes for the slutty ones that he can get a quick fuck with then he tosses them aside. It makes my skin crawl and my organs want to shrivel up just thinking about him. Eugh. Anyway, he’s a complete jackass on top of his crappy personality. He’s constantly pushing me around because he’s four months older than me, and like a foot taller than me. He thinks he can pick on me because I’m small and don’t fight back! Which… maybe isn’t entirely untrue… But still! He likes to keep this screwed up schedule: Mondays are beatings, Tuesdays are swirlies, Wednesdays are lunch money, and Thursdays are sweets. He gives me Fridays off because he’s “so generous.” Gag me.

    Back to the story now, huh? I was on my way to my first class of the day, English II, when I run into Jenny. She grins up at my happily, hugging her thick book to her chest and practically bouncing. “Oh, hi, Hunter! Great morning, isn’t it?”

    “Ah, it’s a morning.” I laugh awkwardly, rubbing the back of my neck. “So, what’s got you so perky, huh?” Jenny’s not exactly not a morning person, but she’s usually only this happy when she has good news.

    “Oh, nothing much…” She smiles deviously before shoving her Chemistry test in my face. I’m a bit taken back by it before I grab the paper and read the grade next to it. A+.

    “Oh, wow! Congrats, Jenny!” I grin as well as I hand her the paper back. She squeals excitedly and hugs me tightly. This must have been really important to her.

    “I’m so happy, Hunter!! Thank you, thank you for tutoring me!” She pulls away, her face tinted a light shade of pink as she brushes a strand of brunette hair behind her ear. “Oh, um… sorry.” She smiles up at me bashfully, to which I just chuckle.

    “Hey, don’t worry about it. You’re happy, it’s understandable. Say, uh… how about I treat you to dinner to congratulate you properly, hm? I just got paid a couple days ago, so it wouldn’t be breaking the bank or anything.” I offer, albeit awkwardly. I’ve never been good at talking to people, let alone attractive people. Also, I may have not mentioned this but I work as a cashier at our local gas station. Nothing fancy, but I get paid for it, so can’t complain.

    Jenny’s eyes sparkle like diamonds as she gazes up at me, searching my face for any sign of a joke. “Really? You’d do that for me?”

    “Sure, why not?” I laugh softly, smiling at her. “You’re my friend, I’m more than happy to treat you once in a while. Especially when you get good news, you know?”

    Jenny’s face resembles a child who just got told they could have any sort of candy they want. She hugs me so tight, I thought my ribs were sure to pop. “Thank you so much! You’re so awesome, awesome, awesome!”

    I laugh, ruffling her hair. “Nah, it’s nothing. Hey, have you seen Nate today? He was supposed to help me with some stuff.”

    Jenny tilts her head, “Huh? Uh… no, I haven’t. Weird, eh? He’s usually in the gym or something, practicing his basketball stuff. Check there?”

    I nod, “Yeah, okay. I’ll text you later about dinner, alright?” Jenny nods and smiles, hugging me one more time before bouncing off towards her class.

    I head towards the gym like she suggested and, sure enough, I saw him there, practicing… whatever it was basketball players practiced. I smile, leaning against the doorframe and just silently watching him for a few minutes. God, he’s so cute…

    “Hunter!” He smiles when finally noticing me. I clam up, blushing fiercely at being caught staring.

    “Oh, uh, Nate! I didn’t even.. Y’know, see you there. Clearly. I was just staring at… the wall! You know, such a beautiful pattern and… architectural sturdiness…” Fuck, I suck at this.

    Nate just laughs, nodding, “Yeah, it’s a cool wall, dude. So, do you always come to the gym to stare at walls?” He dribbles-- is that the word? Did I use that right?-- the ball a couple times, patiently waiting for my answer.

    “No! I was, maybe, looking for you?” I sigh, smiling abashedly. “Sorry, I’m really bad at lying… Yeah, I was staring at you… I was wondering where you were, since you weren’t where we agreed to meet up.” Nate stops dribbling, staring at me like I just told him my first born was killed.

    “Oh… shit, dude, I’m really sorry. God, I’m such a scatterbrain… I totally forgot you asked me to meet you by the lockers.” He sighed, tossing the ball into the… ball… thing, and turning to look at me. “You’re… not mad or anything, right?”

    I laugh a bit and smile goofily, “Of course not, man. Honest mistake, don’t beat yourself up over it.” I twiddle my thumbs a bit, sighing. “I really don’t wanna go home…”

    Nate smiles a bit, “Well, you can come home with me? You know my parents love you to death.” I grin, remembering how Nate’s parents treat me. They act like I’m a God or something, hah. It’s really sweet, to be honest.

    “Yeah, sure. I don’t have to tell my parents, they, uh… won’t care…” I sigh softly. I made myself sad, dammit. Nate smiles sympathetically, rubbing my back.

    “Don’t worry, dude. Things will get better, I promise.” God, I love him. I laugh and nod, knowing somehow… he’s right. Things will definitely get better.

This is chapter 1 of I don't know XD But I really like it and hope you guys like it, too!

[imnotasuperhero]

DAY 3 OF RARE PAIR WEEK IS HERE!!

BIG WARNING!! Beware of mention of PPD. I apologize deeply if this hurts you somehow. It’s not my intention at all. I just wanted to try a different path and I reaaaaally hope that the experiences and the knowledge I’ve got (I’m an outsider) fulfilled the goal. Please, let me know what you think. I had so many emotions (I just got emotional because I’ve got the okay) so I hope you all like it.

Also, big shout out to @mitchsentrash for the support and the encouragement. I owe you, dude.

Pairing: Chacie

Theme: Single parent

Type: Angst? Fluff

Summary: Chloe finds out she's pregnant. Stacie offers her help. Could they win the battle?

Wordcount: 3292

What the fuck would she do now? Scratch that. How the fuck would she do it?

Chloe felt how her world started to become harder every second that passed. She wasn't ready for this. Most importantly, she didn't ask for this. This was a whole other level that she wasn't ready for and she could fuck it up enormously.

For the last half an hour, she's been walking without destination opting for sitting at the nearby park.  Mistake Nº2, she realized. She discovered right there that the world doesn't stop. Time never stops. If that was the case, she'd give anything to make it happen and have a few extra minutes - God knows the idea of years was tempting enough, but no. She should figure how to continue from now on and how she'd manage to take care of a child. Her child.

"Are you okay? Why are you crying?" a sweet little voice spoke in front of her. Reacting to the sound, her hands moved unconsciously to brush the few tears away.

"I'm okay, thank you," she couldn't surprise the smile that formed on her lips.  Before she could continue, what she supposed was the little girl's mom, called her. She watched with tenderness at the little person waving her hand while making her way to her family.

And that's when she decided it. She'll give her baby the best life she could. Happy accident or not, her baby would be so happy that sadness will never reach them. Even if their family were just two, love will always be there. She promised to themselves.

Bringing her hand to her flat stomach, she let herself start to wonder what the future had for her. Would it be a girl? Or perhaps a boy? Oh god, a little Taz running through the house with their happy spark enlighting her life.

"Since when do you stick with water, Ginger?" Amy asked with a curious expression. Oh, shit. Of course, someone would bring it up. That was the reason she almost turned them down for their monthly Bellas' reunion.

"I just had a rough day and I'm not feeling the alcohol," she shrugged the topic off. Her hand going unconsciously to her belly - as it seemed to be a habit now. But the action wasn't missed for everybody. Not for certain leggy brunette, who just started to analyze every movement she did.

"Another stubborn dog?" Emily asked with the giggle of a little kid. "Ohhh, was it a bunny this time?"

"None, Em. Just a bunch of owners that decided to organize and come together to the revision," she smiled at the younger woman.

The night seemed to go great despite a few compromising questions. How she loved these women that she got to call her sisters. She almost blurts out the words during the evening but decided against it at the last minute. It wasn't the right time, not yet.

"You're pregnant," Stacie spoke after some minutes of silence during the car ride. Chloe's head whiplashing in a way that she could have broken her neck. "I've been there, Chlo," she clarified for the redhead.

"I'm scared and excited at the same time," she confessed. Her hands starting to sweat at the inspection of the brunette. "I found out a week ago," she whispered.

"Why didn't you tell me? Or at least Aubrey," the inquisitive look in the younger woman sending shivers through her spine.

"And tell what? 'Oh, you know? I'm pregnant and Chicago doesn't want to know about it'. It isn't easy," she snapped. Regretting it instantly. "I'm sorry."

"No, no. I get it," Stacie looked at her briefly before centering her vision on the road. "You shouldn't go through this alone. You're allowed to ask for help," Chloe tried to find disappointment in them but failed miserably.

"Who? My parents would kill me if they find out. And the girls have their own lives," she opted to lose herself in the window. The street lights casting an orange shadow on her face, making Stacie's faint at the sight.

"Me," the brunette couldn't help it. "I would gladly help you." And Chloe felt her heart jump at the proposal. Her eyes starting to glaze at the menacing tears.

"Would you really help me? But you already have Bella and-"

"Bella is 5 now and she has a father. I can totally mold my schedule to yours. I'll be there for you, Chlo." the smile on her friend's lips melting her instantly. How could she score such a good friend?

And that's how both women embarked on the exciting journey of motherhood. Stacie was always by her side. She even protested -in vain, when Stacie made herself home for the night when Chloe's body was giving her a hard time. God bless the brunette's heart and patience.

At the 5th month, they finally got to see the gender. Both women crying when they found out it was a girl. She was a sparky bundle for sure, making Chloe laugh whenever Stacie decided to talk to the bump. Hell, even Bella wanted to talk to the baby, which she did.

Days passed and with them passed the months. By now, except her inability to walk straight, some back pain and fluid retention, Chloe had it relatively easy. Stacie -firm at her promise, got to go with her to the Lamaze coaching and helped her to master the tips as the pro she was by herself. It literally amazed Chloe how involved Stacie had become in her life; something she treasured deeply.

As the moment of giving birth came closer, even the other Bellas were now buying different items for the baby to come. Beca just wanted Ellie (yes, the music producer had already named her baby) to be as cool as herself so she always would come up with little tiny rock star's outfits. Claiming that she'll be the greatest godmother ever. Something that led them to arguments about who would be the baby's guarantor.

Cloe's heart melted at all the love she was getting from her sisters. Tears were a common thing by now as she observed them take over her place and stopping her from moving unless it was strictly necessary.

"I promise I'm alright, guys. I just want to help with the room," she tried to fight back. "I'm pregnant, not disabled." Aubrey just rolled her eyes.

"You want to help? Keep doing what you do and sit there," the blonde then grabbed one of the decorations an put it on the shelve above the crib.

She loved visits. She really did. But sometimes they were just so much to handle and she just wanted to be useful. A hand placed on her shoulder, making her jump in place only to find it was Stacie.

"Don't worry. I've hidden some so you can place them wherever you want once we're alone" the warm breath on her ear made things to Chloe.

They both had agreed that since the baby was almost here and everything would become pretty hectic, Stacie would move with her as long as she was required. Something that both women learned to live with. Even Bella had her own place to crash the days she was assigned to Stacie.

"STACIE!" a sudden scream woke her from her happy earth. Running to Chloe's room, she found the redhead with blank face and panic evident in it. "The baby is coming," she said as she stared at her wet sheets.

"OH SHIT!" is all the brunette could mutter as she tried to think properly what to do next. Yes, she's been there and it should be a piece of cake for her... but her whole body started to tremble at the knowledge that she'll get to finally meet Chloe's baby. That baby that made her discover another kind of love. "Okay... with calm steps we'll go to the car, yeah?" she made a mental note to grab the baby's bag. "Come up, everything will be alright" she kissed the redhead's temple in an attempt to calm her.

"OH, MY GOD! She's eager to come to the world," Chloe spoke as they made their way to the hospital. Pain starting to show on her face.

"Listen here, little gremlin. You better wait till mommy is with the doctors or I will never ever give you sweets," she spoke firmly as if the baby could understand her. An action that made Chloe laugh bittersweetly. She could imagine the contractions were something very real now. "Remember babe. Deep breaths. In through-"

"I know how to breathe, Stace! Just hurry up, please." she just decided to bite her tongue and tried to drive as fast as she could without putting them in danger.

It wasn't until several hours later that Chloe got to finally start to push. Hell, her hand would definitely need a checkup after this. She could feel something was about to break. And she probably should throw sacred water at Chloe. The redhead didn't stop cursing since the contractions reached the top level; something so-not-Chloe. Where was her sweet kind friend?

"Oh shit! Please take her out already," Chloe had started to cry some minutes ago. Her whole body shaking in pain.

"Breathe, Chloe. You have to help her, okay?" Stacie kissed the top of her head lovingly at the doctor's words. She herself remembering Bella's birth.

"Come on Red. We almost have her with us. You can do it," she started to whisper encouraging words in her ear. Squeezing her hand every now and then. Something that seemed to help the soon-to-be mom.

"I can't, Stace. I won't make it." Chloe cried the words. Her whole body in a fight between rest and deliver her baby.

"Yes, you can! You're so much stronger than this, sweetie," she brushed some wet red locks off her forehead. "Come on, just focus and push matching her timing, yeah? You can definitely make it."

And after what seemed like hours -but was just some more minutes of screams, tears, and words mixed with love and encouragement, a loud new crying sounded in the room. Chloe just gave birth a healthy baby, if her lungs were proof enough about it. Her heart started to beat frantically as she reached forward to see the baby but the squeeze on her hand made her turn her attention to Chloe. "She's alright. You did it perfectly- CHLOE?!" her heart stopped at the sight in front of her. Chloe had just passed out. The monitors around her starting to beep at a different rhythm than before.

As the doctors and nurses started to work on Chloe, she made her walk to the baby. And she was sure she'd need one of those oximeters because her heart's rate was jumping at the mixed emotions. She was trapped between a healthy beautiful baby and a not-so-healthy Chloe. Her Chloe. She asked for all the gods out there and the universe to help Chloe and so the three of them could go home.

"Would you like to take her?" the pediatrician asked Stacie after she'd finished checking up on the baby. "She's a perfect baby," she spoke as Stacie placed the little body on her arms. Tears starting to fall, again.

"Hell, she is," she couldn't help it but to kiss the newborn head. Her heart grew 100 times bigger at that moment. She dreamed about this moment a lot of times, but none of them were like this. She just decided to lost herself in taking care of the baby in order to stop worrying about Chloe. For what the doctors were saying, it was just a minor complication. God, she was aware that not all the births were the same; but did she wish for Chloe's to be like hers. Just vomit and dizziness.

"The mom will be okay," One of the nurses spoke softly. "She just needs to rest and regain strength," and with a soft squeeze on her arm, she made her way out the room.

Just then she felt the happiness take over her. A soft teary laugh escaping her lips. Both of her girls were safe and sound. All she could ask was for Bella to be here with them. Her family of four -as she pictured quietly in her mind, was a reality. If only Chloe could love her back.

"Welcome, my little sunshine," she whispered to the tiny human in her arms. "I promise you that you'll never be alone," her index finger caressing the softness of Elli's face. She opted she'd call her that till Chloe comes up with her name.

"Stace?" a hushed voice called her. Looking at the bed, Chloe was staring at them with tears in her eyes.

"You did it," she placed the baby in her mother's arms. Her heart jumping at the moment. "You did this beautiful being." she couldn't help but bring their forehead together. Something that she got used to doing time ago.

"She's beautiful," were Chloe's words before a comfortable silence settled between them as Chloe started to breastfeed her daughter. Stacie melting at such an intimate moment between mother-child.

"I want to name her Hope," the redhead looked at her. A shy smile on her lips.

"Hope Beale. It really suits, Chlo" she kissed her forehead before returning her attention to her Hope.

She didn't know exactly when things at home became a mess. Hope wouldn't stop crying and Chloe wouldn't stop feeling sad whenever she had to take care of her child. Her energy started to drown off her body as she tried to calm both parties -literally- all the time. She started to worry that it could be PPD. She knew it was -somehow common after the childbirth itself and, even if she knew little about it, some of the symptoms matched.

"Shhh, it's okay little one," she tried to calm a crying Hope who seemed to decide to test her limits. "Please, don't cry baby girl," she couldn't hold back the tears anymore. "Your mommy loves you to pieces. She's just going through a hard moment," she kissed the baby's nose. "I promise you that."

"A dream is a wish your heart makes when you're fast asleep" Stacie sang the words fighting the lump on her throat. "In dreams, you lose your heartaches. Whatever you wish for, you keep…" she continued rocking her softly. Her sweet voice and the movements finally working. Hope started to calm gradually as she continued. "Have faith in your dreams and someday, your rainbow will come smiling through" her left hand starting to brush a thin line in between the baby's eyebrows. "No matter how your heart is grieving. If you keep on believing, the dream that you wish will come true"

And as if magic was something real, by the end of the lullaby Hope fell in a pleasant dream. Something Stacie was really thankful about. One last look at the crib, she made her way to Chloe. The redhead was in the living room staring at her with tears. Her beautiful smile absent for days, now; making her heartache.

"Come here," She opened her arms as she sat beside her friend.

"You're a literal angel, Stace," Chloe curled up in her arms. Another action that became common among them. When Hope wasn't asking for attention, she'd would happily cuddle Chloe up. Sometimes -always- in bed.

"Can I say something without you snapping?" she asked after some minutes in silence. Her voice trembling with anticipation.

"You know it's not my-"

"I know, baby. I'm aware of that," she started to play with red locks. "That's why I think you may have postpartum depression." the words came as whispers. Chloe pushing herself apart as if she'd been burned.

"Wha-... Do you think so?" and she was surprised that Chloe took her words into consideration. Even if she knew the redhead was very uncomfortable.

"I'm not a psychologist. But the sadness, the anxiety and you not sleeping at all considering I'm looking after Hope... yeah. All those symptoms match," she felt her chest close at the way Chloe could react to this information.

"I... I don't want medication," she almost pleaded. Her voice breaking at the end.

"Maybe you don't need them," Stacie took her trembling hands between her own. "Maybe all you need is going to see someone and working on your bonding with Hope. She needs you, sweetie," her voice came softly. Something that surprised her, but thanked nonetheless.

"I will," Chloe finally let herself cry as the realization stroke her. "I love her, I swear I do!" the sobs making her body shake. "I just want to be a good mom."

"And you will be," Stacie wrapped her arms around her, bringing her closer. "I'm not going anywhere and I promise you that everything will be okay."

Stacie released her own tears right then. She cried all the feeling she had bottled up in order to protect her girls. She needed to gain strength for the recovering. Hopefully, it'll be easier than the last weeks.

Just as she promised them. Chloe and Hope were finally bonding. Chloe had started to enjoy her daughter's spark. Now that the crying decreased noticeably, they got to let her sleep between them when she had colics.

"Look Stace! she has a mole on her neck just like you!" Chloe cried as she got to change her.

"No, she doesn't" the brunette started to look for the mark on the baby's body. And just there, right above her collarbone, a pale brown spot contrasted lightly against the pink skin.

"See?" Chloe caressed the spot making Hope's giggles to sound in the room. Both their hearts expanding every time they got to hear her laugh. "You're like her moma"

Stacie's heart stopped at the words. Her body freezing in time. Sweet lord, would she make a pact with the devil to make it happen.

"Stace?" Chloe called. "You know you are like her mom, right?" and the confusion she felt should be reflected on her face because Chloe just kept explaining. "You took care of her when I couldn't and you love her like your own. You even asked for weeks off after she had born," she felt Chloe's hand squeeze her arm.

"Perks of being a great scientist who is in charge," she joked as if trying to hide the lovey-dovey words menacing to scape her mouth.

She grabbed Hope and started to walk to the living room but a hand grabbed her own, stopping her in tracks and making her face Chloe. Before she could protest, soft lips captured hers. A timid movement that started to became eager. Chloe smiled into the kiss, making her laugh.

"Did you really-"

"I did," Chloe affirmed with her head. "I figured you'd never tell me so I couldn't hold back anymore." she shrugged, taking Hope in her arms.

Her mouth started to open and close at the lack of words. Her brain had probably melted. All she wanted was to properly try those lips. And so she did. Closing the distance -trying to remember that an infant was between them, both women melted in a kiss full of feelings and promises of being there for each other. Forever. After all the stress they went through, she was optimist enough to give herself to the redhead.

"Seems like Bella's wish had become a reality," Chloe laughed softly, kissing her daughter's cheek.

"Seem like we are a family of four," she hugged both her girls, already imagining her daughter's happiness when they get to break the news to the kid the next day. And honestly, she couldn't ask for more.

[italicwatches]

Comic Girls - Episode 11

Today I have to decide whether or not to do a batshit thing to build hype for Smash. But also, it’s Comic Girls, episode 11! Here we GO!

-It all starts at the dorm, where the girls have gotten one of those career-goal surveys from school to fill out. Which has them in a bit of a trouble, since three of the four here already have their plans figured out and even Kaos knows her goals, she’s just struggling to, you know, achieve them. Of course, they all have to put down more than just the obvious first choice…

-So what’s Ruki’s backup plans if this manga train stops? She’d love to teach children. And Kaos gets all sad about the idea of losing Ruki and Tsubasa says, and I quote, “How could you leave Kaos behind to take care of other people’s children?!” And Koyume even backs her up. I’m sorry, Ruki, you’re stuck with this little pink blob thing for life.

-Opening!

-So why teaching, and especially at a nursery school of all places? Low supply, high demand, and she loves working with kids. Really, as much as she loves manga, Ruki would still be pretty dang happy if teaching was what paid her bills, and it’d be a lot more stable…She intends to get the license after she graduates, in fact, just so she has the option if things go sideways. …Just don’t draw any smut in front of them on accident. That’s how you got into this mess in the first place, remember.

-Well, Koyume’s thinking she could always fall back on her family’s sweets shop! She knows most of the recipes already! Oh hey it turns out Kaos’s folks also run a small shop, but they do traditional Japanese confectionaries, not Western sweets like Koyume’s folks. Koyume suddenly totally wants to do a fusion collab. East meets West! They’ll take the treat community by storm, Kaos! Would anyone even buy that…They could build it into a great cultural icon! Have enough space to do events, work with up-and-coming idols, it’d be the coolest! Koyume please focus on your actual current plans and not your wild ideas for if those plans don’t work out.

-So what about Tsubasa? Nothing. And she is NOT putting down anything her parents would want god dammit! …Tsu, you got issueOMINOUS CHANTING. We can never escape. I’m sorry what were we talking about? Oh, right, jobs. Tsubasa is having to figure out actual plan Bs to continue her rebellion. How about being a superhero? No, that’s too unrealistic. A professional swordswoman, maybe…You, you know what, let them help—

-SUZU IS HERE

-FROM THE CRAWLSPACE

-SHE WANTS TO BE A GHOST WHEN SHE GROWS UP

-Actually she also wants to be a caregiver. There’s lots of demand for it back home, as she casually starts to lower a rope to come down to the ground. …Suzu, you’re as much of a dork as Tsubasa. Also she really does want to be a ghost when she grows up. KAOS RUN FOR IT SHE’S COMING FOR YOU

-So after they banish Suzu to the shadow realm, back to this damned form. Tsubasa still has no idea what to write after ‘manga artist’. And Kaos…Kaos has the problem that she has no idea of anything she could do. She’s much too clumsy to help out at her parents’ shop…And she’s the only one without a serialized gig! She’s doomed, DOOMED she tells you! And cue Ririka to come check up on them.

-Soon they’re all talking over coffee and tea, and she explains her own past…How she was facing much the same decision. She was nearly serialized when she was your age, you know…But, she gave it up. The pressure of being a professional manga artist just…took the fun out of it for her. The freedom. It’s a bit embarrassing to admit in front of actual working pros, though she did get to to release a one-shot volume, “The Afternoon Smells Like Oranges”…

-Kaos perks up. Because wait. Wait wait wait. YOU’RE Rika Sonoda-sensei?! You still have fans! Look at all these reviews! And Ririka is embarrassed, most of all to admit that even under that, she just, couldn’t hold up her end of things…It’s one of the reasons why she runs this dorm, to give people a better place to work, to find the strength to be able to do what she couldn’t. Because there is nothing that makes her more proud than seeing an artist become strong enough to stand as a professional…And of course, she still does some hobby work from time to time.

-…Kaos wants to see it. Right now. Right now right now! Koyume also wants to see it! Nnnnope. (It’s all incredibly trashy yuri manga, isn’t it. I remember the flashback scene, I know you were pushing for girls smooching on the cover!)

-But then it’s a firm cut to the notice going up. The dorm’s final days in its current state. Everyone’s got to have their crap gone by February 2nd, because that’s when the wrecking crew is coming. It’s a painful moment for all of them…As Ririka decides she wants to make their remaining time special. And since nobody has deadlines, she needs help going through the storage room…Full of the history of everyone she’s held in these dorms. It’s all got to get organized, boxed, and ready for its next home…And treated right.

-There’s tons of history and weight in this little storage room. Sketches, photos, reference books…Everything that years and years of growing young professionals used. All carefully stored in closed book cases, to keep them safe from the ravages of time. Tsubasa and Kaos end up talking about those damn career forms…Tsubasa just gave up and wrote “manga artist” twice. Let them try and call her on it. But Kaos…Kaos still doesn’t even know if she’s confident enough to write it once. She absolutely wants to be a manga artist…But she gets so scared…

-That’s normal. It’s a scary thing to do. All you can do is just…Put the fear aside, and keep pushing forward. Focus on the dream. Now, come on, help her get this poster down…And when that poster comes down, there’s something behind it. A simple drawing on the wall. A little cheer for the artists still to come, written by someone who long since left this place. The history hits her like a freight train, and she properly realizes she’s standing upon the shoulders of giants…!

-Hard cut to Kaos and Koyume trying to get all fired up. Which mostly means a lot of wiggling and shouting.

-And then it’s night time, and Kaos has been working her ass off all day…When Koyume goes to get her something to drink, and finds Tsubasa and Ruki sipping cocoa. Everyone’s having a bit of a late night, it seems…I can only assume it’s the last night in the dorm, or close to it.

-But then the next meeting, when Kaos brings four storyboards to the meeting with Mayu. She, needs, to, have, SOMETHING accepted before the dorm shuts down! So, each of them is a little different…The first is a rom-com, borrowing some skill from Koyume. It’s…Well, it’s very Kaos. Her idea of strong and manly is firewood-chopping and mighty lung capacity. And full of ridiculous dad-jokes. Because her best concept of ‘manly’ is, well, her own dad. That’s kind of adorable, actually.

-So next. It’s a naughty comedy! She pulled from Ruki but it was like 2 in the morning and seemed like a good ideate the time even if now it feels like a terrible plan in the stark light of day. Also Kaos’s super simple chibi stylings don’t, entirely, work with eroticism. And also the height of perversion that Kaos can internally parse into her art is panty shots. Oh and the firewood again. You’d think someone so thirsty could go heavier.

-Third storyboard…It’s a comedy isekai! You know, that actually has a lot of potential meat on the bone. Meat that Kaos wasn’t really able to properly use, because it’s very cliche…Though Mayu points out that it just needs one good twist. Find a way to make the protagonist stand out, and…he’s chopping firewood. I’m sensing a pattern. Mayu is quietly despairing…

-When the fourth one comes up. It’s core slice-of-life, with a lot of the lessons she’s learned in her life so far…And without a lot of the real zaniness. No, without the over-the-top comedy, the cutesy art is able to just be…cute, and let the real heart shine through. The feel of a girl running on genuine fears and loves, passions and anxieties…It, it’s genuine. Mayu has to admit that she’s a bit brain-drained from chewing on all of these, as it’s been hours now, but…Let her hold onto this one. She wants to read it again in the morning.

-And so Kaos is off…Having left behind her manuscript with Mayu. For a simple, heartfelt manga about four plucky lesbians by the name of The Lord of the Ri—Er, I mean, Comic Girls. Yeah, that. Kaos is full of uncertainty herself, but as she walks home under the light of a full moon, and remembers that simple cheer that was on that wall, from someone who themselves finally escaped rejection hell on their last days in the dorm, she feels like she’s at least gotten her path forward…

-Even if she ends up staying up half the night in fear. Until she gets a call! From her mother! Oh, wh—ANOTHER CALL! It’s from Mayu! Who lets her know…She’s been APPROVED! She made it! She’s getting published! Not just that, they want her to expand Comic Girls into a two-parter! If the surveys come back well, it could even be serialized! Oh god, OH GOD SHE MADE IT! Making it. You ain’t there just yet, kid. Deep breaths!

-And everyone hears and YES you did it! You DID IT! Even Suzu is there, openly admitting she only shows up out of nowhere.

-So when the morning arrives at school, everyone’s got those career forms. Tsubasa’s is simple: Choice one? Manga artist. Choice two? “There’s nothing else.” It is true to her. And Kaos?

-…Kaos no.

-Kaos you’re doing into my bad place. That’s my bad place, stay out of there. I have it just comfortable for me. But anyways she wrote manga artist in the first choice so that’s the important bit.

-Episode 11: My Life Has Reached Its Peak

-Credits!

Well, much like Kaos’s own manuscript, this episode skipped a lot of the absurdist comedy to just…Be really from the heart, for a minute. And it hit fuckin’ hard, too. I guess now we will see what happens in our wrap-up, and if Kaos can stand on her own two feet, next time in the finale. Episode TWELVE of Comic Girls! Wait for it!