#so if anything looks out of place or is weirdly formatted that’s probably from having a tussle with tumblr and losing

[sunflower-lilac42]

𝘀𝗹𝗶𝗽 '𝗻 𝘀𝗹𝗶𝗱𝗲 | 𝘵𝘻11 ♔

➪ summary: pro tip: if you're going to play slip 'n slide hockey, make sure not to play it with professional hockey players

➪ warnings: fractured shoulder, hospitals

➪ word count: 0.6k

➪ file type: blurb - reupload

➪ sunny's notes: it has been so long since i posted writing on here so i'm super excited to be back doing it. i remember exactly what sparked the idea for this fic and i couldn't be happier with how it turned out! um let me know if you like the new-ish formatting (the tinier font) or if you would prefer it to be bigger for the writing. also, i am working on that quinn fic and let me know if there are any of your favorites of mine you want me to reupload, they are all on my masterlist if you want to browse.

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This wasn’t how this was supposed to happen, her sitting in a hospital room with her arm sporting a sling. Sure, maybe the idea was a little stupid, and playing with professional hockey players also didn’t help. But, what was she supposed to do when she was scrolling on Instagram and saw a video with ‘slip-and-slide hockey’? Not tell her brothers and their friends about it? Not a chance. 

After seeing the video, she immediately brought it up to her brothers who agreed and started calling some of their friends to come to the lake house. She had called Trevor, much to Jack’s annoyance at the reminder of their relationship and Quinn’s distaste for him, and he said he would be there as soon as he could. When all the boys arrived, it was officially ‘mission slip-and-slide hockey’ time.

In hindsight, maybe she should’ve worn pads or just not played at all knowing how rough her brothers get with not only her but with their friends as well. Jack was being Jack, of course. He had gone to go around Trevor when he slipped and knocked into his sister, who then fell and weirdly landed on her shoulder. She didn’t scream, growing up with three rowdy brothers gave her more pride than she probably would’ve liked sometimes. 

She just laid there, staring at the sky with her right arm across her chest and her left one lying by her side. It took everyone a little bit to realize, and it was only when they saw Quinn kneeling next to her that they did. 

Quinn looked down at her, placing a hand on her shoulder, “You okay?”

She nodded, looking a little dazed as her eyes glassed over in pain, “Mhm.”

“Y/n/n come on, move your arm for me.”

She lifted her left arm and then dropped it, “See, I’m fine.”

He gave her a look, “Your other arm.”

And she was prepared to do it, except when she tried, she couldn’t and teared up more. Quinn sighed before waving Trevor over, “Come on, let’s go to the hospital.”

“I’m fine.”

Trevor’s head came into her sight, his hair flopping and framing his face, “Let’s go, princess.”

She smiled up at him, “You're pretty.”

He laughed before helping her stand up, having her lean on him for support. Jack came up and spewed apologies from his mouth as they walked to the car, “It’s okay, Jack. I’m fine.”

He shook his head and sat on one side while Trevor sat on the other and Luke got into the passenger seat as Quinn drove them to the hospital. And that’s how they ended up here, y/n sitting on a hospital bed with her arm in a sling due to her fractured shoulder. Trevor sat on the bed next to her while Quinn called their mom and Luke and Jack sat on the chairs in front of them. 

She leaned her head against her boyfriend’s shoulder, “Ugh how am I supposed to work now?”

“You don’t have to work, y/n/n. You’re boyfriends rich.”

Y/n sent her younger brother a glare before closing her eyes again, “Do you think they could give me drugs for my head?”

Jack shook his head at her choice of words before standing up, “I’ll go find a doctor. Maybe you got a concussion too, though they didn’t say anything.”

He kissed her head before leaving to find a doctor, or a nurse at the very least. Luke followed after him, protesting being stuck in a room with the two of them. Trevor pushed a piece of her hair out of her face before kissing her temple, “Are you sure you’re feeling okay? Besides the headache now?”

She nodded a little, wrapping her left arm around his right one, “Yeah.”

He gave her a small smile, “You know Luke wasn’t totally wrong. You don’t have to work.”

She went to hit him but he laughed and held up a hand, “I know, I know. You love your job, I wouldn’t take that away from you, lovely.”

“Good.”

The two sat in silence for a little while and then she spoke once more, “Cuddles when we get back?”

“Of course, my baby fractured her shoulder. Got to give her all the princess treatment in the world.”

“Dork.”

⬂ 𝗠𝗶𝘀𝗰𝗲𝗹𝗹𝗮𝗻𝗲𝗼𝘂𝘀 𝗧𝗮𝗴𝗹𝗶𝘀𝘁 ⬂

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[lume-nosity]

coldest front, warmest heart

violet evergarden!gn!reader x xiao

an: i’ve been brainrotting about this idea for quite some time. violet and xiao should meet, because they are literally the same but in different fonts. if only that can be a reality,, on another note, the song inspo can be used as background music to read this because i had fun listening to it while writing this. AND AFTER ALL THIS TIME I FINALLY FINISHED THIS IDEA!! ONE W FOR ME AND ONE L FOR PROCRASTINATION (and if this flops then that’s two L’s for me)

style: fluff

song inspo: never coming back (violet evergarden ost)

notes: gender neutral reader, kinda rushed because tumblr was mean to me, comfort fic basically, spoilers for violet evergarden & possibly the liyue archon quest, implemented self-care reminders, not proofread, reader is blue while xiao is green, can be perceived as romantic or platonic, weirdly formatted/written probably because i haven’t written in a bit, written in semi-hc form, mentions of war (both violet + xiao), ooc violet possibly because it’s been 2-3 years last time i’ve watched it, takes place after xiao’s latest appearance

reblogs are appreciated!

[name] and xiao talk about their times during war. they both fought for something, and would most likely be open about their experiences since they have something in common (but it took a long time for xiao to be open about it though)

and the idea of [name] losing major gilbert during the struggle and xiao being saved by morax (or rex lapis?? idk i’ll refer to him as morax) are contrasting opposites of what of who they lost but they’re both one in the same.

xiao comforting [name] because of that… oh, and he also talked about them making a contract with morax just so they can defend liyue together,,, that’d be nice. oh yes and [name] was down no questions asked, you know it.

they don’t know much about love either. (wow what a surprise) because one time [name] asked him: ‘sir xiao, what is love?’ (baby don’t hurt me) and he’s like: ‘why are you asking me that?’

…...

he looked away from them, crossed his arms, and went: ‘i don’t have enough knowledge in that area to answer your question.’

‘….and don’t address me that way. just call me xiao.’

[name] being overly obedient & hardworking does perplex xiao, especially with their military etiquette. (the saluting thing and all that) there’s even times where he had to tell [name] to stop saluting to him, morax, and everyone else they meet. he thinks it’s unnecessary to do it. (he’s even a little embarrassed too)

as much as xiao works hard to defend liyue’s borders, he thinks [name] is pushing it. because he saw just how determined they are that they don’t stop to take a breather or a break. so he confronted them about it.

‘don’t you think you’re overexerting yourself to the brink of exhaustion?’

‘oh, it’s not a problem.’ no, it’s most definitely a problem. in secret, xiao was completing whatever tasks [name] had to do.

once [name] found out they didn’t have anything to do, they were quite confused. so then they had to go up to xiao and ask if there’s anything they have to do. well, xiao took this opportunity to tell them an ‘order.’ (an order of taking care one’s well-being that is)

‘rest for the day.’ pretty straightforward, but [name] seemed to do it without arguing. because it sounded like an order to them.

xiao offered to share his almond tofu to them but as expected, [name] is stubborn and waved their hand dismissively. but xiao’s not having it.

‘you must eat. mortals need to consume nutrients in order to strengthen their energy.’

he pushed his dish towards [name] ‘and you need this more than me.’

[name] was unfazed, but they perceived his words as an order. so they took the plate and started eating. no words were said after that.

okay tumblr is being rude to me so i’m going to write one last scenario here to finish this with a bang.

[name] leaning against the balcony of wangshu inn with xiao, staring off into the horizon, and letting the wind flow through their bodies in complete silence.

it was a comfortable silence, but xiao decided to break the silence. ‘…[name]? may i speak with you for a moment?’

[name] immediately pushed themself off of the railing and turned to face xiao.

‘yes, what seems to be the problem-‘

xiao hugged [name]. (yes, yes he did.) he may dislike physical contact and would prefer to not get himself involved with such a thing, but considering the hard work [name] had done he was sure they might need something like this. even if it’s out of his comfort zone.

‘for a mortal as persistent and obedient as yourself, you should be more attentive to your own needs.’

[name] didn’t return the hug, as they were slowly processing the sudden action. but xiao continued to speak.

‘i understand how… resolute, you are, with any and every order that comes to your attention. however..’

xiao tightened the hug a little, but not enough to hurt them.

‘you have to come to terms with having the freedom to decide for yourself. as well as taking frequent breaks should you need them. to see you work so hard without anything in return.. i despise it greatly. i was once told these words by morax when i was like you, so it’d be appropriate for me to send his words to you as well.’

[name] stayed silent, but they’re still listening to each and every word that comes out of xiao’s mouth. it seems as if they couldn’t find the right words to respond, rather, they’re fine with listening. instead of denying xiao, they stayed put and listened.

‘..so do me a favor to take these words into account, okay?’

[name] is still silent, but they slowly moved their arms to wrap themselves around xiao to return the hug. it may have surprised xiao a little, but not to the point he was visibly taken aback. because of this gesture, he gently rubbed circles around their back.

‘…i will, thank you.’

[tellthemeerkatsitsfine]

For anyone not aware, NextUp has been streaming some shows from the Edinburgh Fringe Festival for the last few days, and they have far more coming. It’s relatively cheap to sign up, and if you don’t want to pay for a pass to the whole site, you can pay per show. Worth checking out for all the people not currently in Scotland.

Mark Watson’s show was streamed today (tonight, if you’re in the UK – the time difference does mean most of these shows are early-to-mid-afternoon where I am, which can be mildly annoying what with having a job, but videos do get posted for catchup), and I greatly enjoyed it. I’d heard some of those bits before on his radio show, but he really pulled them together well, and of course there was lots of stuff I hadn’t heard before. I think it’s one of the best shows he’s ever done – maybe not quite better than This Can’t Be It (few things are), but probably better than all the others I’ve heard, and I’ve heard every show he’s ever published in any format or medium (and possibly one or two that he hasn’t, but don’t worry about that).

I think the more comedy I hear, the more I appreciate Mark Watson’s ability to be relatively effortless about his themes. They’re not always the deepest or most dramatic of themes, and he doesn’t hammer them too hard, he just casually comes back to them. He does it in everything, even in his old stuff when he was young, even his little radio episodes – like he just naturally wraps things around a structure. And I liked the themes in this one.

Most of it was Classic Watson. He drinks too much, he’s worried about his place in life, he’s worried about everything else in the world as well, he’s jealous of more successful comedians, he’s got some kids and an ex-wife. He manages to both be the nicest and most innocuous person in the world, and have some deep bitterness and anxiety built into the show, with occasional little flashes of aggression that remind you: it’s not so much that Mark Watson’s an innocuous comedian with an incongruent dark side that comes out sometimes. It’s more that he’s mostly made of dark side, but usually covers it up with a thin layer of being the nicest person in the world. That’s all par for the course for Mark Watson, but I’d say in this show he gets the most aggressive I’ve ever heard him, which I enjoyed. I like aggressive Mark Watson.

Alex Horne gets a couple of mentions, and I’ve been told (both by Mark Watson, who mentions it on the stream, and by someone who saw it live) that his name normally evokes a cheer, though it didn’t this time, which of course Mark Watson was pleased about, due to the deeply embedded professional jealousy that only barely counts as a joke. It’s okay, Alex Horne’s doing fine.

This show was mainly about parenthood, his relationship with his kids and his relationship with his own parents. Those were the recurring themes, basically, though he got the title from a sort of sub-theme about the information that’s out there in this day and age. I’ve said before that I don’t tend to enjoy parenthood-based material, but almost every time I say that, I add the caveat there are exceptions, such as Mark Watson. Mark Watson remains the exception. I’ll listen to him talk about parenthood any day.

I am a bit amazed that he’s still got the same performance style as he always did. If anything, he looked a lot more on-edge in this stream than he did in, say, his stand-up DVD Flaws from 2014. He hasn’t calmed down over the years, even though you’d think that the longer he does this, the more he’d get used to it and he’d be more relaxed. Meaning there are two options: either he’s become more anxious in general and that comes out in his on-stage persona, or he’s playing it up for comedy and over the years, he has gotten more in control of his stage presence, and has chosen to use that control to do a better job of appearing to be out of control. This shouldn’t be possible, but weirdly, I suspect it might be a bit of both those options at once. Also, he may have been extra nervous because it was the night that it was being streamed. He did make a lot of references to that.

I think all the elements of this show are great. Delivery – classic, anxious and panicked Mark Watson (and of course that’s a good thing – if you don’t want to see an anxious and panicked man perform comedy, then you aren’t going to be watching Mark Watson, are you?). Structure – there throughout, several recognizable themes to which everything ties back, an overall sense that this was composed by a high-achieving student who wants to make sure everything’s in the right place. Content of the jokes –I laughed out loud multiple times. Content of the non-jokes – just enough emotional stuff about family and personal mental state to get me feeling for him and feeling some stuff in general, just enough subversion of the “sad Edinburgh show” idea to make me laugh, it never got heavy-handed or tried for more emotional weight than it could bear. Points made – life is complicated, some things are bad, intellectualism is good, kids are weird, don’t trust everything you read online – basically, everything he got across was reasonable. He didn’t start telling us to read Jordan Peterson or anything.

I also watched Alexandra Haddow’s show last night – Not My Finest Hour – which was streamed on NextUp as well and I think the video will be up at some point if anyone wants to catch it. That one is also definitely recommended. It was pretty much one long story, with a few digressions, and I enjoyed all those parts. I always like a show that sticks close to one thing. She was funny and engaging and smart, and my attention didn’t wander for a single moment.

…Okay, it mostly didn’t wander. It didn’t wander due to anything that was her fault. I have to say, I spent quite a while trying to work out who the hell she looks like, because I’d never seen her before but she looked very familiar. I finally decided I think it’s because she looks like Ophelia Lovibond, who played Izzy Gould in W1A and Mandy in that one episode of Nathan Barley. I think she might also look like an old teammate I had in high school, so that was throwing things off.

Anyway, her show was fun, it’s worth watching if anyone is looking through these on NextUp whenever they put up videos. And it’s definitely worth looking into their streaming schedule for the next couple of weeks and catching some live.

[the-24-hour-cinderella]

i can't remember if i sent you any questions in earlier or not but i meant to so, if didn't could you answer: A3, A8, B5, C6, D8, E1, F10 pleaaase. if i did, please disregard and hi! hahaha

Oh hiya! I haven’t seen the earlier question, I hope that doesn’t mean tumblr ate the ask

A3: Favorite protagonist(s)?

This is a difficult question, but I would have to go with Kiryu and Shinada. I just enjoy how they are personality wise. Kiryu is just a selfless and kind person who do what it takes to make sure his loved ones are safe and happy, even if it may not be the best outcome. Honestly it’s just intimidating guy + heart of gold + children he would do anything to protect = my type of favorite character where I tear up when he’s tender with children

Now as for Shinada, I just find him endearing and tragic. In the very first scene he appears, he’s such a mess and quite charming in how he is. Then there is the tragedy in that as a former baseball player, very much a civilian, he would likely be no where in proxmity to any yakuza, but he’s embroiled at the center of something bigger then himself and he’s the one who had to pay for it even if he genuinely had no idea what was happening and was just doing his thing. He then has to spend all those years struggling by and it’s seen then in the scene with Milky-Chan on the rooftop on how he wishes to escape to a new life and his earnestness is bittersweet to see in that scene. The sadness in his expression at being grounded right back into reality upon Milky-chan answering her phone shows how much he believed in running away to start a new life. He’s such an earnest and fun character with a tragic story to him.

A8: Favorite song(s)?

24 hour Cinderella (taps name), tonight, as long as you’re happy, pride from despair, machine gun kiss, and all of Haruka’s songs in Y5. It’s honestly quite difficult to choose just a few. If I had to only pick one from these it would be pride from despair if only for the fact it’s a Kiryu-Majima duet and honestly? The melody rocks so much as well as the lyrics which honestly sounds tragic given that it’s becoming stronger through painful events? That’s just if I were to try ranking these songs, though overall I still would put these songs together as my favorites altogether.

Also for songs that aren’t karaoke, I would go for Let’s produce a no. 1 hostess (y3), nervousness (y4), as you like (y0), all the disco songs from y0, all the songs from Haruka’s dance battles (y5), receive you the madtype (yk1), Takumi 2016 (yk1), and in a dead heat (yk1).

I clearly can’t quite pick a few songs, it’s liking choosing a favorite child…

B5: Which character do you think you would bump heads with most if you knew them in real life?

I’ll be honest. Probably Kiryu lmao. He’s well meaning for sure and he’s got good intentions. But. The. Number. Of. Times. I wanted to shake this man for being way too kind to antagonists. Stop turning away from them Kiryu! At least take the gun away…

There are other moments where I have the urge to kick him for sure though I probably wouldn’t be able to do anything but provide a soft kick he would not even feel at all.

C6: If you could revive any deceased character, who would it be and why?

Nishiki Nishiki Nishiki. I miss him. Going into Yakuza 0 blind, I was thinking to myself on how excited I was to see how Nishiki progressed through the games. Then Yakuza 1 rolls around. I just imagine how it would have been like if he stuck around and yes he did a lot in yakuza Kiwami 1, I just sometimes wish he lived and maybe just went to prison and over the games he and Kiryu slowly mend their relationship in some way. Though that’s just me. A ton of characters died in YK1 yet Nishiki impacted me the most given how dedicated he was to helping Kiryu in Yakuza 0 and it did not help that in my time playing YK1, a friend brought back lines from Yakuza 0 that foreshadowed how he’ll be in YK1. Just Nishiki. I miss him :(

D8: Which character had the absolute worst moveset?

Haha. So Shinada is one of my favorite protagonists. I did mention that earlier right. Well I love him but god his moveset is my least favorite out of all protagonists. That action where he attacks opponents in a way akin to him swinging a baseball? It’s a cool detail but it bugs me. Aiming a hit at an opponent felt difficult. And I found it difficult to control the direction of his meteor tackle. He was just not easy to control. If it weren’t for the fact that I needed money in his part, I would have put more effort into avoiding fights.

E1: Explore: Kamurocho or Sotenbori?

Kamurocho all the way. Going through all the games, it provides this feeling of nostalgia seeing how it changes over time, even if admittedly I only started playing the series back in May. I just have a soft spot for Kamurocho especially for the events that happened there and places such as the Millennium Tower. Then just the characters that are consistently there such as Date, the stardust hosts Yuya and Kazuki, Ako from Earth Angel, they all make the place lively and enjoyable to go back to in each game to see what they’re all up to.

F10: Who would be your kyodai?

Honestly I don’t know? I did try thinking this through but I can’t quite come up with any character who I would want to be my kyodai. Probably would suck too since I would bite the dust relatively fast so no clear answer on this one

[creatorofuniverses]

Gt July Day 7 - Creature

Please ignore weird formatting and any other errors, as im posting this on my phone just before midnight lol. Made it!

——————————

We were walking down by the shore of the lake- Ewe, Ze’zien, and I. Not my favorite place, as these things went. I’d nearly been drowned and eaten by something last time we were here, and the few times before that hadn’t exactly been a picnic, starting with me parachuting out of half a helicopter and landing on a shore populated by giants.

Yeah. The lakeshore was maybe my least favorite place in the valley.

Still, I was walking- all on my own too, a situation rare enough that I didn’t want to jeopardize it by complaining about the location. Since winter in this remote Alaskan valley was in full swing, I was dressed from head to toe in furs, meaning I had more than just knit socks on my feet. Helpful for the whole walking thing; not to mention the fact that I desperately needed the warmth. All the snow and ice didn’t really agree with my New Mexican temperament. It meant I was often teased for being colder than anybody else, but c’mon, the villagers were both native to the climate and over sixty feet tall. Some of them had fat layers thicker than me. Of course I was more prone to the cold.

I meandered along the icy rocks on the beach, giving the ice that had grown along the lakeshore a wide berth. Ewe and Zezien walked behind me, chatting about villagers who I didn’t know very well, at a rate of speech too fast for me to pick up much. They also weren’t necessarily walking, since they were behind me- they only had to take a step to catch up to the last five minutes or so of my trail. A glance back showed that Ewe was balancing on a slippery log, wobbling a bit but generally doing well, as Ze’zien told a story with a lot of animated arm-waving.

They were supposed to be babysitting me, but they seemed just as aware as I was that they could overtake me at any moment. I was close enough they didn’t have to pay that much attention. Also, I was twenty-one and didn’t need babysat. Those two kids were probably the only people in the entire village that might actually believe that.

Then again, the moment I had that thought, I turned around and came face-to-face with a monster.

I yelped and scrambled back, panicked adrenaline already leaping through my veins. This wasn’t the first time some horrific creature had tried to eat me. It wasn’t even the fifth. My body was already primed for fight or flight; and when I was smaller than most anything in this oversized valley, the choice was never hard.

My yelling had alerted the other two, and like I expected, it took barely a stride for them to come over to me. Ewe knelt down, her knees cracking some of the thinner ice between the rocks, and I scrambled towards her. My eyes were still glued to the creature behind me, taking in details. It looked, weirdly enough, like a huge, eldritch version of the Pokémon Omanyte: big spiral shell, eyes on stalks tucked beneath the edge, and an entire host of tentacles creeping out towards me. Its shell was a dark blue-grey, however, the same color as most of the rocks along the beach; its eyes were slitted horizontally, something I didn’t think I’d ever seen on a creature before; it easily reached seven or eight feet in height; and its tentacles were long and slender, covered in flagella that wavered as if tasting the air.

As long as it didn’t taste me. I finally reached Ewe and leaned up against her bent leg, breathing heavily and staring at the beast as it somehow wiggled itself closer.

“Oh!” Ewe exclaimed, with a delight I certainly did not share. I felt more than saw Ze’zien kneel down on her other side. “It’s a to’finel ch’kor!”

Those words, full of foreign sounds and even an odd clicking vocalization I couldn’t replicate correctly, were somewhat familiar regardless. “To’finel ch’kor?” I hesitantly repeated, messing up the ‘ch’ click as usual. “Like a to’finel dara?” That was the lake creature that had almost drowned me the last time we were here. I never got a good look at the thing, but it definitely had tentacles, so that was at least one commonality. 

“Sort of!” Ewe answered. She reached out to the creature, giggling as it wrapped a few monstrous tentacles around her huge, but child-slender fingers. “They both live in the to’finel.” I must have looked characteristically lost, because she immediately rephrased for me. “The part of the water we can stand in.”

Oh. The shallow water. Or at least, shallow as far as the giants were concerned. That made sense. “Is it dangerous?” I asked, this being the next important question now that I knew what it was called. 

I looked up in time to see Ewe shake her head and offer me a smile. Of course, it wasn’t dangerous to her, seeing as it had entangled itself thoroughly into her hand with no apparent consequences; but she knew the question was for myself anyways. “No, they’re safe, Emy,” she cheerfully replied. “They only eat water-moss and other plants.”

I frowned critically at the spiral-shelled creature, watching as it snugged the soft parts of itself thoroughly into Ewe’s palm. “Then why is it so intent on getting to us?” Or at least, that’s what I wanted to ask. I had to sub in a few simpler words thanks to my limited vocabulary in their language. 

To my surprise, Ze’zien answered my question. “They’re drawn to heat,” the boy explained, “especially in the winter.” I nodded, thinking that made some kind of sense. 

Some. Apparently these monsters just wanted to cuddle, and I wasn’t sure how I felt about that. 

Ze’zien made a noise of surprise and I jumped, watching as he bent over and reached for something. When he straightened he held a second to’finel ch’kor. “I thought we might find more,” he crowed, grinning from ear to ear. “There’s usually more than one.” He leaned across Ewe and held the creature out towards me, making me balk backwards to avoid a face full of writhing tentacles. “Go on, Emy,” he cajoled. “You can touch it, it won’t hurt you.”

I still had some reservations on that front; but I did have a reputation as a scaredy-cat that I wanted to work on changing, and this seemed as good an opportunity as any. I may not trust this prehistoric tentacle thing, but I did trust the kids. If they said I was safe, I was probably safe. So I took a deep breath, immediately wished I hadn’t thanks to the salty fish smell of the saltwater lake, and hesitantly reached out a hand. 

A couple of tentacles reached back, though most still waved about trying to touch the ground, since Ze’zien held the thing a few feet up. They wrapped around my arm and I froze, my heart pounding in my chest. Nothing bad happened, however- the tentacles didn’t pull me off my feet but simply clung around my arm, flagella waving along the backside of the appendages. It was hard to tell the texture through the furs I wore, but the pressure was gentle, not painful. It really was safe. Weird, but safe. 

Ze’zien lifted the to’finel ch’kor, as if to pull it away, but it held fast and I lifted up a bit along with it. The boy just chuckled, scooping both me and the creature into his hands. “Looks like you made a friend, Emy,” he laughed. 

“Guess I did,” I replied, a bit breathless from the quick ascent- not like that was anything new. I was about to say something else, but the thing took the opportunity to wrap even more tentacles around me, pinning one arm to my side and holding the other one fast. I couldn’t balance well given all that and tipped over, only for it to settle itself mostly on top of me. “Um,” I said, a little squeakier than I would like thanks to my chest being compressed. “Could you get this new friend off of me?” Ze’zien and Ewe both laughed, making some blood rise in my cheeks, but Ze’zien worked on gently prying the to’finel ch’kor away from me. 

Say what you will, but at least I survived; and as far as strange creatures in this valley go, I think the ones taking care of me are still the best. 

[rallamajoop]

How (not) to say ‘fuck’ in Etruscan (and other things I cannot believe I spent so much time tracking down for a throwaway joke in a Witcher slash-fic)

Buried in chapter 4 of my fic Something Nice is a joke which, as much as it amused me, no-one else is going to get unless I explain it. So here we go.

For the last few people in this fandom who haven't heard yet: The Witcher 3's vampire-language is Etruscan. To my knowledge, there's never been an official statement from CDPR to confirm this, but the evidence (ie. that basically all the vampire vocab can be found in online Etruscan sources) seems pretty solid. To explain why this made me go oooooh that's so NEAT, we need a little context.

Context!

The Etruscans (in my admittedly far-from-expert understanding) were a people who lived in Italy back before the Romans got around to conquering-slash-assimilating the rest of the peninsula, and the language they spoke is one of the most frustratingly mysterious of the ancient world. Most dead languages are at least related to something modern linguists have a decent handle on, but Etruscan seems to have been related to almost nothing else spoken – it may even have pre-Indo-European roots (a whoooole other tangent I am in no way qualified to cover).

Surprisingly, we do owe our modern Latin alphabet in part to the Etruscans, since the earliest Roman alphabets were adapted from the Etruscan (who got it from the Greeks, who got it from from the Phoneticians, and so on). The Etruscans may even be the reason we're stuck with so many weirdly redundant K-sounds (not only K and C, but X and Q, which are really just 'ks' and 'kw' with an overblown sense of superiority).

But being able to sound out every surplus K-word from an Etruscan inscription isn't much help nowadays when there are no surviving Etruscan dictionaries to tell us what it actually means – not even a decent Etruscan Rosetta stone to give us a push-start. So while modern linguists may rattle off Ancient Greek fluently or puzzle out Egyptian hieroglyphs from thousands of years before the Etruscans even had an alphabet, the Etruscan vocabulary available to us nowadays remains embarrassingly limited. Bits have been figured out from context or thanks to loanword exchanges with their neighbours (plenty of ancient Greeks and Romans certainly spoke Etruscan, even if they failed to write it down), but a lot is still as mysterious to the experts as it would be to you and me.

So why to I love the idea of using Etruscan as the Witcher’s vampire-language so much? Basically, if you want a language that will sound both old and reliably alien to anyone listening to it – be they the mainstream English-speaking market or the original Polish-language audience – Etruscan is a damn good call. You're not going to have much vocabulary to draw from, but it's not like there's a lot of vampire-chatter in the game anyway. It's a cool little easter egg for fans nerdy enough to try and figure out what they're saying.

Translations and Sources

You aren’t going to find a lot of great Etruscan language sources on the web – few of the easily-discovered online sources on Etruscan vocab appear to have been updated within the last ten years, and lord knows how consistent some of these are with current scholarship (let alone how sure linguists can be about anything with a task like this). All the same, have some links you may find useful:

Etruscology – Brief, but more readable than most

Lexicons.ru Etruscan Glossary – Probably one of the best collections of many terms in one place

Maravot.com Etruscan Language pages – Hard to navigate, but gosh there are a lot of vocab here I have not seen elsewhere

Old, Tripod-hosted Etruscan Glossary – I think these are mostly just the same terms from the Lexicons page, but in harder-to-use format

Etruscan word search – Decent, but not the most extensive vocab

Introduction to the Etruscan Language – Looks to be from Maravot.com, but in pdf format

Paleoglot.com’s Etruscan tag – Blog by an actual linguist who regularly discusses Etruscan material, and who even created their own translation applet! – which was, unfortunately, in flash, and is thus no longer usable. (There is a certain irony that even the tools available online to help you understand Etruscan are written in a language that is now no longer supported or understood by any modern browser.)

Not that translating what’s in the game is going to be easy, oh no. Take, for example, the oh-god-please-don't-kill-me ceremonial greeting Geralt has to offer to the Unseen Elder to survive that meeting – "Eclthi, lautni ama".

'Eclthi' is apparently a "demonstrative (locative)" (’here’, ‘there’, etc). "Lautni" is trickier – it means a freed slave, but may also imply a familial relationship or a client of sorts, while the root “lautn” apparently designates simply “possession.” House slaves in the ancient world were often considered part of the family, and freed slaves were an important class in many ancient cultures, who often maintained relationships with their former masters, so you can see the internal logic, but what sense was the Witcher using it in? It’s hard to know.

"Ama" is possibly worse – most translations seem to have taken it as "to be", but sometimes also “to love”, or even "now" or  "meanwhile." Then you hit the question of Etruscan grammar, and I have no idea where I’d even start. So, with a little creativity, you could probably translate that phrase as anything from "take this and consider me a friend" to "meanwhile, this is family" to "a demonstration of love from your slave." I mean, you've got the same general theme going there regardless, but there's a lot of ambiguity in the inflection.

For what it's worth, I feel garasham's translation efforts are easily the most convincing I've seen – they have the above line as “Here I am a slave / a friend / kindred” FWIW. (Mind you, given the wiki doesn't even try to do more than offer you one possible meaning for each word, there's not exactly much competition out there).

So, bringing this all back to that fic and how to say ‘fuck’ in Etruscan...

I've already gone to the web's Etruscan dictionaries once while I was writing Forget-Me-Not, seeking inspiration for a 'real' name for "the Queen of the Night" from the first Witcher game. Neither 'queen' or 'night' got me far, but the Etruscans did apparently have a goddess of the moon called 'Aritimi, Artume or Artames', which worked pretty well. If anything it's almost too close to the better-known Greek goddess Artimis, who was obviously a relative (ancient cultures bleed into each other even when they're not bleeding all over each other, nothing new there), but I'm not going to be picky.

However, being a) a giant nerd, who b) writes a lot of smut, and c) is no more mature deep down inside than the rest of us, I couldn't resist seeing if I could find some slightly more obscene vocabulary. Did the Etruscans have a word for, say, 'fuck'?

Alas, if they did (and I mean, they totally did, c'mon), the web wouldn't tell me about it. Nor could I find much else relating to sex or genitalia (male or female), or even a decent word for 'thrust'.

On the flipside, there were a couple of different terms meaning 'plough'. And anyone who's played – well, any of the games, but especially Witcher 2 – would probably realise exactly why that filled me with so much glee.

Speaking of which, here, have a picture which is in no way related:

The fact that the various Etruscan terms meaning ‘plough’ could also apparently be translated as things like “to worship“ or “to act through movement, including ritual acts,” or that an important mythological figure was “a prophetic child who sprang from a freshly plowed furrow” was in no way discouraging.

The word I ultimately picked was 'esari'. Admittedly, variations on the prefix ‘ar-’/‘ara-’/’aras’ were much more consistently attested to throughout the various online Etruscan dictionaries as ‘terms meaning plow’, but figuring out how to convert an Etruscan prefix into a satisfying word is officially where even my enthusiasm for all this nonsense gives out. Esari was, by comparison, already a much more solid-sounding term, so let’s go with that.

Why go to all this trouble anyway? Well, the honest answer is “entirely for my own amusement”, but the nominal excuse comes right back to “so I could give Regis and Geralt this little exchange during a sex scene.”

"Unless you have any particular objection," said Regis, moving to straddle Geralt's body, "I thought we might engage in some esari... hm, what was the equivalent term in your language again?" The vampire leaned in close to Geralt's ear as he made a show of remembering his answer, "Ah, yes—I thought I'd fuck you."

Never let anyone tell you you never learnt anything from porn!

[vydante]

Restart | 12

Fandom: Marvel

Pairing: Avengers x Male! Reader (romantically: multiple)

A/N: Missed y'all. I don't think I'm officially off of my hiatus, but I somehow managed to pull a chapter out of my ass after months of radio silence. I really did back myself into a corner with the last chapter, but hey, this is my story and I get to pace it however I want.

Sorry if things are worded weirdly, I'm writing them but they're going through one ear and out the other when it comes to comprehending what I actually wrote. No one will remember what happened, but that's okay. God, I really need a beta-reader... Anyways. Love y'all. XOXO.

Also, sorry if any of the formattings seems off. HTML doesn't really translate well over certain sites. (Tumblr, Quotev, Wattpad, and AO3 are now my main places for posting my works. Anywhere else, that's not me nor was it permitted by me.)

If you want a recap: You're in the process of jumpstarting Project Renaissance after realizing that you've just been doing basically nothing ever since you woke up in your old body. You've also taken to making video logs to report down your progress, and in the last chapter (that was in the POV of multiple video logs), it ended on a cliffhanger with Barnes being discovered and moved to a safe house.

This chapter takes place roughly after the last one. 

If you're currently binge reading this story, this recap is only because last chapter was updated... Roughly more than 7 months before this chapter. So. Yeah. :D

Oh, and let's pretend that either A. Barnes doesn't have a tracking chip in his arm OR B. he did, but you got it out during the whole rescue-escapade. That's my bad, I straight up forgot about that possibility until I was like, close to 4000 words deep into this chapter. Now we're at roughly 8k+... Hehe. Whoops.

_______

You're not gonna call Barnes, Bucky.

There's a personal touch to the nickname that bothers you. How awful it sounds in your ears, to call the former husk of a man a name he no longer recognizes. There's history to that name, both on writing and in memory, though only in sparsity. Plus, it'll be difficult for you to associate Bucky to Barnes. A man with an identity to a man without.

So after the whole debacle of getting him out of the mini-Hulk playbox and into decent dry clothing, when he asks what his name is, you quietly debated to yourself what to tell him.

"... Your name is James Buchanan Barnes," you'd eventually reply.

He doesn't comment on the resignation in your tone, but you're confident that he certainly noticed it- surely, the ticks of being the Winter Soldier was still there, no matter how disoriented he must be. But whether courtesy was something that he hadn't forgotten whilst his brain was refried over and over like leftover KFC wings or he was simply too exhausted to ask, you didn't care.

Granted, for a man who should have a lot of questions on his mind, he's definitely proven himself to be a man of very few words.

An hour goes by, and in the midst of you trying your best to build a solid standing between the two of you, he's said so few words that you could probably count all of them on both of your hands.

If it weren't for the nods of affirmation, you'd think that his averted gaze from you would have meant that he wasn't paying attention at all, but honestly, you knew better than to judge him for that if he actually wasn't actually listening in the first place.

Hell, he could tear up the walls to the high heavens and you still wouldn't hold him against it, so you were just thankful that he was so docile, for someone who could snap your neck if he felt so inclined.

Though, as it turns out confusion and disorientation wasn't the actual reason why he was being so docile, you belatedly realize as you're stood in front of a blank-faced Barnes. You're in the middle of trying to give him a basic tour around the house when he quietly interrupted your monologuing.

"Mission parameters," you echoed his words, though mainly to yourself. He nods, and for once meets your eyes. There's neither confidence nor surrender in his eyes, and that makes your stomach churn. Chances are, he probably saw nothing wrong with asking such a thing.

"You want me to give you- mission parameters. Like- like your handlers would?" You laughed incredulously, but the humor was replaced with subdued hysterical horror.

You were aware of what they were. Aware of the types of hunts his Handlers- bastards- would sick him out on. Aware of what he did without a second thought. You saw those files, if only briefly. That was more than enough for you to see the type of expectations that came alongside "mission parameters".

He nods as if you were stating the obvious.

God.

You opened and closed your mouth, and for a split second, once you got past the horror of being asked to tell him what to do, a subtle realization crawled up your spine. In the midst of your impromptu introduction and briefing, you never really made a distinction as to what role you were supposed to play in all of this.

So it shouldn't be a surprise for Barnes to assume that you're his new- what? Handler? Caretaker? After all, as far as you can assume, that's probably all he knows; all he was conditioned to grow accustomed to, to expect his every move to be dictated by some outsider with no care to the wants or needs that Barnes has.

(Hell, if you were to make a reach right now, maybe Barnes thinks he doesn't have wants or needs. That he shouldn't.)

(In the background, a part of you simmer in silence.)

With your jaw clenched, you make an effort to make your voice as even as can be when you ask him, "You don't need mission parameters, Barnes. You're your own free man. You can- can make decisions on your own. You don't need me to tell you what you need to do."

Pray as you might, there's something about realizing that you said the wrong thing right after saying said words that make you wonder what you did to anger the higher powers that be to put yourself in the situation you're in right now.

Barnes doesn't say anything, but his eyes says it all. Confusion. Realization. Grief. Detachment. His metal hand clenches, and you're man enough to admit that it made your heart stutter in fear.

"I...", he mutters, "... don't understand."

You swallowed.

This...

This is gonna be tough.

_______

It's difficult to explain what self-autonomy and freedom meant to a man who is only capable of remembering being chained and held on a leash like a rabid dog.

Thankfully, it was your winter break, so you had a manageable excuse for being away from "home" for a few days, but you only had so long to try and establish to Barnes that you're not going to be able to be there with him as often as you are now (and even then, the time frame was too small to even make any sense of attachment).

You knew for sure you couldn't always be there for Barnes, so one thing was certain: he had to meet DAHLIA. And thankfully, since the whole safe house was yours, not even your father knew that DAHLIA, your own A.I., would be uploaded into the houses' built-in hardware.

(While the hardware was built with the intention of housing J.A.R.V.I.S. there as a standard, he ended up "moving out" the moment that the house became yours. Something about "not intruding on a teenager's privacy", but you're more than thankful for Tony's afterthought, even if you did end up taking slight advantage of his consideration.)

And surprisingly enough, Barnes wasn't really bothered by the concept of DAHLIA as much as you had initially expected. Of course, he didn't really talk to her, but it wasn't like he talked much in the first place.

(On a side note, it looks like DAHLIA seems to like the house, all things considered... So there's that.)

(The original DAHLIA was never installed here, instead she ended up "living" in a retirement house of sorts in a wooded area of New York. She never said anything about the house, so it's... Kind of endearing, to see that she actually might prefer this house instead. And mildly insulting, considering you personally decorated the other house.)

You ended up spending nearly the whole night trying to establish even the most basic of guidelines: use the bathroom whenever he needed to (you initially said phrased it as "wanted", but he promptly cut you off saying "The Asset does not have wants," which, rude, but also sad); whatever is in the kitchen is available for him to eat whenever, where ever; basic hygiene; and the most important one- if he had any questions, his first source would be you. And on the off-chance that you're not available, DAHLIA is always online and ready to help.

He gave a tentative nod, but you're somehow not confident that he might have interpreted it wrong. You're hoping he doesn't do anything to prove you right.

"Alright. So. Any questions?"

He stares at you for a beat too long before shaking his head.

He's still giving non-verbal answers for the most part, but it's better than nothing. You internally sighed and motioned him to follow you deeper into the safe house.

Considering that it was already pretty late by the time you managed to beat those guidelines into his head (maybe that should be worded better, but you never claimed to be a lyricist; it is what it is), he might be just as tired as you are from how long the day has been.

(Granted, this dude has been "asleep" for who knows how long, but it's the thought that counts.)

"You know where I'm taking you to?" you asked, not really expecting an answer from him.

"No," he responds from behind you. Color you surprised.

You turned into the hallway and stepped up to an unassuming door. You opened it to reveal an equally unassuming bedroom. Muted colors, modern design; it reeked Pepper's doing, knowing that Tony isn't as decoratively-inclined as she is.

Hah, bet she didn't expect that instead of housing you or your dad, it'll go to a super-solder that wasn't Steve instead.

(Not that Steve would ever have a reason to step foot in here, but in this line of work, you'd be stupid to be 100% sure about something.)

You motioned him to come into the room and tilted your head to the bed.

"This is your bedroom, pretty much where you'll be sleeping. There's a bathroom right over there," you motioned to the door adjacent to the entrance door, "and I'll be in the room right next to yours."

Barnes takes a second to process it all, and with a quick scan of the room with calculating eyes, he nods. You absentmindedly scratched the back of your neck.

"I mean, there's plenty of rooms here so if you don't like this one, just let me know and we'll probably move you to another room-" you rambled, secretly trying to get a move on so you'd finally get some shut-eye.

(What? You're not perfect, sleep is heavily slept on in this day and age. Hah.)

(God, you're definitely going to hell.)

"-and you know how to use a toilet, right?"

The raised eyebrow pointed at you definitely proves that that was a pretty stupid question, but hey, you can't take any chances. You shrugged, a tired smirk threatening to form on your lips.

"Well then. Can I leave it to you to settle down for the night, or...?" you left it open-ended.

He didn't say anything in response, only stared at the bed in front of him. There was a pregnant pause, but he nodded at you. There was a strange tilt to his eyes, but you didn't bother to think further into it as you were just thankful that you could finally rest.

"Well then, good night Barnes. I'll come by tomorrow morning and we'll continue to, er," you thought about it, "work, on your situation."

You made a swift exit out of his room and immediately into "your" room, which was literally right next to his. You immediately discarded your clothes and with a brisk shower and teeth brushing, you promptly dropped straight onto the bed with an audible grunt, wet hair soaking straight into the pillow.

Pulling the plush duvet to cover your body, you reached for your phone to check for any messages you might have gotten.

(3 from Tony; he asked where you were. You told him that you're staying at a safe house and that you needed a small break. It wasn't wrong, but definitely an omission of truth. A few days would be fine, right?)

(2 from Rhodey; it's a picture of a Goodwill's, and there's a silhouette in a nearby window of some guy. "This you?" he asks. "No ❤️," you sent back.)

(63 is from the group chat that the Avengers are in- ah, make that 64 and counting. It's just a bunch of nonsense from what you can gather, but you briefly scrolled through it anyways.)

Turning your phone off, you smushed your face into the pillow and sighed, a terrible knot forming at the pit of your stomach. With an open ear, you tried to hear any noise that could come from Barnes' room, but considering that the walls were reinforced and he was already quiet as it is, all you could hear was the AC running in the background.

"DAHLIA," you huffed, eyes drooping, "keep an eye on him, wake me up if anything happens."

"Got it," her voice echoes from the ceiling speakers.

You quietly tucked yourself in bed. As the exhaustion finally started settling in your body, the last thought that lingered in your head was "Man, I hope nothing bad happens tomorrow," before you drifted right off to dreamless slumber.

_______

The next day was, to say the least, a little disconcerting, but a bigger improvement to be sure.

Right after waking up, you begrudgingly put on some daytime appropriate clothes and stepped out into the hallway. You knocked on the door that was right next to yours, and gingerly opened it when you didn't hear much of a response.

"Good morning," you tentatively greeted. Barnes was sitting at the foot of the bed when you knocked on his door. He mumbled back a greeting and stands up to your eye level.

His clothes are still the same from last night, and judging by the clean state of his bed, he either woke up earlier than you expected or he was sat like that the whole night.

You're not too keen on finding out which was the case, but you had to.

"Sleep well?"

You stepped out of the doorway and motioned him to follow you. Briefly glancing down at your phone to see just a few messages waiting for you, you opted to ignore them for now.

"I slept."

He quietly stated from behind you. He avoided saying if he slept well or not, but at least the damn Terminator slept. You mentally deflated a little; the bar was set so low for him, you're not too sure who it's more insulting to- you or him.

(Of course, it's to him, that shouldn't be a question. Your feelings don't matter.)

"We're gonna have to wing this a little, but uh, here's the general gist of what's gonna happen."

Stepping into the kitchen, you're taken aback to last night as he tentatively stands across from you from the kitchen island. Really, you'd opt to go to the living room, but you both radiate too much nervous energy to really sit.

You opened the refrigerator and sighed when all that greeted you was water and non-perishables. Right. You just got here, it's not like there's gonna be freshly stocked food in here 24/7.

"DAHLIA, order some fresh food and get it delivered today. Charge it on my debit," you mumbled quietly.

DAHLIA doesn't say anything, but the refrigerator lights flicker a familiar green hue that keys you in that she heard you. You raised an impressed eyebrow; what an unnecessary feature for a refrigerator to have. You closed the door and turned around to face Barnes.

"I'm here to serve as, say, a guide for," you gestured to him, "your... rehabilitation, of sorts."

"For now, I can't really offer any... Professional help, on a technical level. I'm not- that's not my area of expertise. I'm an engineer at heart," actually, you really liked other things more than being an engineer, but your fate of becoming the CEO of SI was sealed the moment you decided to live with your dad, "so we're going to have to make a compromise on that."

You shook your head.

"If you were anyone else, I'd point you to a shrink," Barnes gives you a confused stare.

"Therapist," you clarified. He nods.

"But quite frankly," Zemo's face flashes in your memory, "I don't trust anyone to properly... Well, I don't trust anyone when it comes to the mental health of you, and the Avengers too, of course."

Pausing mid-rant, you raised an eyebrow at him.

"You... do know who the Avengers are, right?"

He nods and begins to rattle off a pre-scripted monologue. His eyes are blank as he started speaking.

"A group of top priority, compromised of highly skilled individuals, enhanced or otherwise specified. Threat priority ranges from 5 to 9. As of now, 6 active-duty members and 1 reserve member. The Asset is to not engage under any circumstance and reveal-"

"Alright alright, I get it- that's," you're a little offended that you're considered a "reserve member", but that's not technically wrong, "That's a lot to unpack there, but yeah. You- whew, you definitely know who the- we are."

(You've gotten into the habit of distancing yourself from the Avengers the moment that you had become CEO. You're still working on that, but the word "we" still feels wrong on your tongue.)

There's a little more life that came back to Barnes' eyes after you had snapped him out of it, and it's a bit surreal knowing that Barnes just kinda... runs on autopilot when prompted. The image of Barnes being strapped down in a chair and forced to learn and recite those kinds of things by heart is both horrifying and a little funny.

(Do you think they had a set curriculum he had to learn by?)

"So yeah. The Avengers gotta be careful when lookin' for shrinks, and so do you. There's just too many factors that go into gettin' a personal therapist. So for now," you shrugged, "you're stuck with me."

"What are they?"

"Hm?"

"The factors."

You shrugged.

"Well, for starters, you're- you were, HYDRA's prisoner," the muscle around his jaw visibly clenches when you mentioned HYDRA, but you powered through, "so they'll definitely be interested in getting their fight dog back. They're good at blending in and good at getting their musty little fingers into every nook and cranny. I wouldn't put it past them to have one of their agents go undercover as a therapist for hire. So that's one factor: trying to discern who is and isn't HYDRA."

You raised a finger.

"Then there's the fact that because you're such a... shall we say, top priority, er, asset," that word runs bitter on your tongue, "even if your shrink isn't HYDRA, they'll definitely be targeted by HYDRA if it ever came to light that they have a direct link to you. So there's reason number two: loose ends, and the risks that come with it."

You raised another finger. By now, Barnes has a hard but contemplative curl to his lips.

"And then not to mention how unique your case it. Barnes, you've been a POW for decades. Your brain- no offense buddy, but from what I can tell, it's been fried to hell and back. I don't even have to do any fancy brain scans to know. And that's not even including all the other stuff they probably did to you, only God knows."

You shook your head.

"There's too much at risk for you to get proper therapy right now. But. It's not impossible."

You think back to Shuri, and how she and the other Wakandan scientists were successful in both removing the trigger words and rehabilitating Barnes.

Well, you're not sure about the last part, since you never interacted with the Barnes of your time, but you'd assume that they did help with his subsequent mental health. You wouldn't really put it past them- T'Challa was a nice guy, from your limited interactions with him way into the future, and Shuri was buzzing with ideas and energy. If T'Challa's sympathy for Barnes wasn't enough, then Shuri's crave to help and experiment would supplement the balance plenty. Vice versa, too.

So yeah, future-Barnes' mental health was most likely addressed during his time in Wakanda. And it was almost guaranteed to have been a success.

So you're still gonna hold a torch for the possibility that Barnes' can come out of this as a relatively well-adjusted guy.

Not to mention B.A.R.F. As far as you know, the R&D team assigned to that was still progressing smoothly, but the only downside to that was that it wasn't going to be until a few more years before it's "perfected".

You were never really involved in any way with B.A.R.F. since you were both prepping for SI and finishing college. Your dad was definitely more involved in it than you were, but it's not like you could ask him to pull a few year's worths of experimentation and knowledge out of his ass and exponentially boost the rate of B.A.R.F.'s progress, so.

Helen Cho suddenly sprang to mind, but you quickly threw away that thought. Your- well, Barnes'- issue was neurological, Cho was all about cell regeneration and is a geneticist. So unless somehow the issue crosses over with Cho's line of work, she wasn't a possibility either. There was also Strange, but as far as you've heard the man was pretty... abrasive, even as a wizard. Hard to get a hold of, and very... Hard-headed.

Well, all of that was second hand since it came from Tony, but still. Maybe you could pull Tony in for some clout, but that'll just make him suspicious. God, maybe you shouldn't have kept the whole "I'm actually from the future" spiel a secret, otherwise you wouldn't have to be doing all this crap alone.

Oh well. In for a penny, out for a pound.

You sighed, already feeling the dull thump against your skull starting to form.

"So what now?" Barnes asks. He's less tentative than he was last night, but still soft-spoken when he talks.

"Well, you're stuck with me, bud. I'll do my best to get you prepped for the actual rehabilitation, but honestly, that might take a little longer than you'd expect. So, we'll just- well."

You eyed the outfit he was donning, which was literally your clothes- so it was a few sizes too small for him. He doesn't really seem bothered by it, and if it weren't for the fact that he's sort of proved himself to be neglectful of voicing his own preferences, you'd be a little more inclined to appreciate the view of one very, very beefy super-soldier.

But alas.

Life never really works in your favor, so.

"We'll need to get a few essential things out of the way. Food is already on its way, I assume you aren't allergic to anything?"

He pauses, and there goes that familiar glaze forming over his eyes. You sigh, knowing that he was probably searching through his mental "data-bases" for any allergies, but thankfully it's not long as he blinks back into attention.

"None."

"Yeah, I could'a figured, what with your super-soldier serum."

(You're pretty sure that also makes him immune to cancer, but maybe that's just you glorifying it.)

"So: the food situation is cleared. Now, we need to get you some new clothes because, uh, those don't look very comfortable."

"Comfort does not matter. I am adequately dressed."

You snorted. Maybe it's better that you don't tell Barnes that he's wearing a Sharknado tee and some sweats that have "Eat this!" printed on his behind.

(And maybe it's better that you didn't remember that yes, these are indeed still your clothes.)

"Comfort does matter, my guy. DAHLIA, take some quick measurements."

The kitchen light dims and brightens, shining lime green into the kitchen. It lingers and turns back into that white-blue that sometimes makes your eyes burn when you've been up for too late into the night.

"Seargent Barnes' measurements are now on file. You two want to see the available catalog?"

Right where the kitchen island was, a panel opens up to reveal a hologram of a bunch of articles of clothing, all of which has been adjusted to Barnes' size- or an approximate at least, since there's some that's labeled X or XL.

"Barnes? You got anything you want to do right now or...?"

You gestured to the hologram in front of you.

His face contorts a little, not too noticeable at a quick glance. He doesn't look uncomfortable per se, but judging by the downwards curl of his lips, he's definitely not excited to see the hologram.

You flicked your wrist and it disappeared just as quick as it appeared. Strangely enough, his expression doesn't loosen up as his eyes flicker upwards to yours.

"Hey, that's okay. If it's the hologram, that's no biggie, we'll just move over to the, uh, TV in the next room over. C'mon."

You jerked your head and motioned him to follow you. His face laxes and he walks behind you without a word.

_______

You two ended up getting a lot done all things considered.

Barnes seemed pretty bothered by how many clothing choices there are, but when you asked if he wanted you to just curate a list for him, he easily relented. He was hovering over you the whole time, but you weren't too bothered by it as you were too busy browsing for him.

You went from site to site searching for clothes that screamed "The Winter Soldier", but all that was coming up was clothes in fifty shades of black and with no pizzaz. You did pass by a few Avengers-related merch (especially yours), but he said nothing when you added two or three into your cart, so he probably doesn't care. You did show him a lot of clothes that you thought would fit him, and he nodded to pretty much all of them.

By the time you were done looking for clothes, the doorbell had rung.

("That was quick," you reminisced. DAHLIA was quick to respond.

"It came from a nearby Walmart."

"Huh.")

Barnes' head jerked as his eyes were trained on the entrance door. You patted his arm, and his eyes glance at you.

"Relax, it's just the food. DAHLIA ordered some groceries earlier."

You stood up to go answer the door, and Barnes followed suit. You raised an eyebrow at him, but he doesn't really seem like he's gonna back down anytime soon.

"You know... You can follow behind, but you're gonna have to be in the shadows or something 'cuz, you know... Just- if someone's still at the door, don't let them see you okay?"

He nods, almost mechanically so, and you turned around and walked to the entrance door.

Opening the door, you were greeted with a few big boxes. You raised an eyebrow and glanced out through the door; there are no cars nearby, and DAHLIA whispers in your ear that the clearing's safe- not a single life signature anywhere.

"Barnes, the coast's clear," you called out, already reaching down to grab one of the boxes. You grunt, adjusting your grip before you lifted and turned around.

Barnes, having already popped out of whatever dark corner he was in, is already a few feet behind you.

"Hey, you don't mind helping me bring in those boxes, will you?"

You were already walking past him, but you barely caught the briefest flash of furrowed eyebrows before you saw him walk over to the door. You mentally shrugged, but placed the box in the kitchen and went back over to the door to get the other one.

By the time you were done setting down the box, Barnes had already closed the door and was standing under the arch connecting the kitchen to the main hallway.

You motioned him over, and he complied.

"What is inside?"

You're almost proud that you didn't jump. He doesn't talk much, but when he does it always startles you.

"Groceries, but I don't know what specifically. DAHLIA chose all of it. And by the looks of it, she chose a lot. So. You're gonna help me unpack and we'll probably- well, I'll probably make some food. You can help if you want."

Your back was turned to him, and you started unloading the boxes and their contents. Barnes doesn't move for a hot moment, but he squats down next to you and starts unwrapping the smaller boxes that were inside it.

"You don't mind if I put on some music, right?"

You glanced at him.

"I... don't. Mind," he mumbles, tentatively glancing back at you. You gave him a brief thumbs up and turned your attention back to

"DAHLIA, play something chill. Low volume."

_______

Pretty much, the whole day consisted of unpacking all of the groceries that had been delivered. You ended up pausing, having gotten tired of being awake without food in your stomach, and made some food for the two of you.

You tried conversing with him, trying to get him to at least feel more comfortable, and it... kinda worked. There are a few touchy subjects that he doesn't really seem to like talking about (he doesn't really vocalize his discomfort, but his flinches, no matter how minute they were, spoke louder than words). HYDRA, obviously. Anything revolving the Avengers put him off as well, among other things.

Really, most of the eating consisted of small talk and eating noises, but at least some of the tension in his shoulders had lessened by the time that you two needed to get back to unpacking. Hell, by the time that was done, Barnes' clothes had arrived.

(Oh, the benefits of being insanely rich. Say it with me kids: Thank you, Tony!)

You're usually a little apprehensive about buying clothes online, but color you surprised when not only did all of them fit; Barnes didn't have a single problem with any of them.

"You like 'em?"

You whistled when Barnes came out of his bathroom, now back in your clothes that you had given him originally. He tried all of them on, and you ended up buying him so many clothes that a lot of time had passed by the time he was done. You just sat on his bed, slowly collecting all of the clothes and ripping off the tags, damned if he didn't like one of them; you'll just take it instead.

"They're adequate," he nodded. In his hand were the folded clothes (A camo tee and dark sweatpants), and he set them onto his bed with the other folded clothes.

"Did any of 'em uncomfortable? Too tight, any of the fabric feels wrong...?"

You left the question open-ended as you helped him dump it into a laundry bin. He doesn't respond right away as if he didn't hear you. His eyes flicker over to yours.

"... No. They- I..." the muscle under his eye spasms, "I liked them..."

You grinned, "Glad to hear that, guess we got lucky that none of these was a dud, huh?"

The ghost of a smile that was on his lips appeared briefly, but it was gone just as fast as it had appeared.

Really, that had basically been the peak of the day before things had started to mellow out a little bit. But that was okay, you took whatever it was that Barnes gave, and if it was just the smallest smile you've ever seen on a man, then so be it.

Afterward, the day somehow managed to blend together and pass along like an exhale. Not much happened, since you couldn't really- well, offer anything that could scientifically and medically help him. So you opted to just- try to get him up to date as much as possible.

Honestly, by the time that you had gotten through the first three decades (starting when he was born), it was already pretty late into the night.

(He had a lot of questions, and you really didn't blame him. Hell, most of the more personal information really came from DAHLIA, because as much as you sympathized with the man, you really didn't care to learn about his whole entire biography.

But, at least you answered most of the history related questions. If you had to go through a few history college classes back when you were in college, then you'll be damned if you didn't at least make an effort to learn and internalize them.)

Barnes didn't really show any signs of exhaustion if the casual leg bouncing wasn't enough, but you sure were pooped.

(What? Unlike your dad (and most of the Avengers) you actually had a normal internal clock. For the most part, anyway.)

"Well, as much as I liked talking about prehistoric times," you sounded sarcastic, but you actually did like it, "I gotta sleep, I don't run on super-soldier energy like you do bub."

You stood up, stretched, and saw that Barnes was now standing up as well.

"Should I...?"

Raising an eyebrow, you huffed in good nature, "Go to sleep? Yeah, probably. We're not done with the History101 crash course, and we'll probably be talking about other things tomorrow as well," especially about the fact that you're not gonna be at the safe house often soon, "so we both need the energy for that. So, go clean up and get some Z's, yeah?"

"Oh."

He looked a little lost but followed you back into your shared hallway. Stopping in your doorway, you turned your head to glance at Barnes.

"Good night, Barnes," you nodded, not waiting for a response as you headed into your room. It was quiet and almost inaudible, but you still heard it with your ears before you had closed the door shut.

"... Good night."

You stood in your room, a sudden wave of both exhaustion and dread flooding your body. You shook it off though; it was just the nervous jitters hitting you at an inopportune time.

But really, you trusted your guts almost as much as you trusted Tony.

So as you brushed your teeth and did your business in the bathroom, you tried to quell the anxiety that was building up in your chest.

"DAHLIA, keep an eye on him."

"Gotcha, doll."

You sighed, dropped onto your bed, and hoped that whatever it was that might happen, you'd be prepared for it.

_______

And lo and behold, it didn't even have to be the next morning before shit all hit the fan when DAHLIA wakes you up in the middle of the night (3 A.M., to be specific).

"-oll, wake up! Barnes is having a panic attack!"

It takes half a second to process the fear in DAHLIA's voice. It takes another to process her words.

Fuck.

Scrambling immediately out the bed, you thanked whatever higher being there is that you were sleeping with at least some sweatpants on as you booked it straight to your door and right through Barnes'.

(Maybe you should have joined the football team, because that would have been one wicked tackle. Ha, yeah right, you know nothing about football.)

The lights were on, most likely DAHLIA's doing, and his bedsheets were clearly mussed up. He's nowhere to be seen, so your eyes jump to the joined bathroom door, and lo and behold, there was light bleeding through the cracks.

You quickly approached the door and opened it, throwing away the worry that he might have been absolutely naked.

The good news was that he wasn't nude.

The bad news was that he was hunched over on the ground, right in front of the bathroom counter, and he's gripping his head so tightly you would have thought his skull would have caved in.

Terror shoots down your spine like a lightning bolt, and you immediately rushed to the curled over Barnes, adrenaline rushing through you as a million thoughts ran through your head.

"Barnes!"

He doesn't appear to hear you, groaning and panting as he further curled in on himself. His muscles spasm, hard, and you're at a loss at what to do. He's sickly pale, and the sheen on his skin makes you want to vomit. His panting is shallow, and if you weren't sure if the glint that shone in your eyes was the reflection off of the marble floors or a puddle of saliva coming from Barnes.

You're not sure if touching him right now is a good thing, but you'll be damned if he wasn't your responsibility now. You reach out to him, wrapping one arm around his hunched back and the other trying to pry at his wrists.

(Would you have touched him, if you didn't have the reassurance that DAHLIA has your back?)

(Shut up.)

Maybe you were tensing up for him to go all "Winter Soldier" mode on you, but he's the one that tenses, even more, when you touched him. Thankfully, he doesn't resist your pull as his arm is limp the moment you tried to pull it back, but it doesn't change the fact that he's shaking, badly, and your mind is frozen in limbo.

"DAHLIA, what-"

You're at a loss for words, but DAHLIA, sweet DAHLIA already knows what you were about to ask.

"Sergeant Barnes was displaying elevated levels of anxiety, however, it did not seem to warrant any mentions. I thought-"

She cuts herself off, almost as if she was worried that she had made a wrong call. You swallowed, knowing that despite being a baby A.I., she's never done wrong by you- both in the future and now.

"You thought what?"

You try to rub Barnes' back as if he was a dog that had needed soothing. He groans, but you're not sure if you should interpret that as a hurt groan or a relieved one. You paused and moved your hand away, hovering it just inches away from his back, and his breath hitches.

Your hand dropped onto his back once again, and you could feel the muscles on his muscles spasm a little; his whimpers aren't as loud and painful (though, they're still more than worrying).

So, on the very small bright side, back rubs don't seem to be hurting him either. It's a small win, but a win for sure.

"You- my visuals were clear in the conclusion that you saw it. His discomfort. Your body language and expression acknowledged it but you refrained from addressing it. I- acted under the assumption that it was all under control..."

Something in your mind pauses for a pregnant second before your eyes widened.

"What?"

DAHLIA doesn't even get the chance to reply as Barnes jerks his hands away from yours and pulls at his scalp again. You lurched forward.

"Hey! No!"

You bit back a growl as you grabbed his wrists once again. You yank them back down to his sides as his body jolts, a sob ripping through him. You placed a hand on his chest and tried to boost him back up so he'll have his back against the bathtub that's behind him.

He offers little to no resistance as his back makes contact with the bathtub, but he's slumped into himself. He pulls his knees forward and curls his head into them. For a super-soldier, it's almost cute how hard he's trying to take up as little space as possible if it weren't for the fact that your heart was absolutely breaking at the sight of him.

"Oh, Barnes..."

In shuddered breaths, he mumbles something incoherent.

"...-an't, I- I- I-.... -can't..."

He shakes his head, jolting as if someone had shocked him. You rubbed his arm, glancing down at what you can now confirm to be a puddle of saliva, and then over to the trash can right next to the toilet. You're not too sure if you should get it just in case he decides to vomit, but you're ready to lunge for it the moment Barnes shows any signs of gagging.

"DAHLIA," you spoke at a lower volume, "what- when was he, um, uncomfortable."

"Two nights ago, roughly 22:00, when you told Sargeant Barnes that he was his own free man. Yesterday morning, 08:00, when you asked if he wanted to do anything prior to browsing the available clothing catalog. Right after, he was also discomforted by the catalog, before you offered to buy clothes for him. At-"

"That's- that's enough," you breathlessly muttered. DAHLIA doesn't say anything else, but the air has suddenly become heavier than you remembered.

Your head was almost dizzy with not only how many instances Barnes had been anxious in such a short time, but also at how you remembered each and every instance with startling clarity.

Barnes was anxious at the idea of freedom, but you put it off and opted to just give him a nickel tour of the house.

Barnes was anxious when you asked if he wanted to do anything before looking at clothes, but looked too relieved when you brushed over it.

Barnes was anxious at the idea of shopping for fucking clothes but was okay after you took over for him.

The taste of stomach acid burned your tongue, as yesterday's dinner threaten to rise at the implication of all of this.

"DAHLIA," you mumbled, "the- the rest of those instances- do they..."

You trained your eyes on Barnes.

"Do they all- follow the same... The same- pattern?"

DAHLIA was always in tune with you, even after the time jump.

"... Yes," she lamented.

"God..."

Now, you're not sure who that trash can would be really for; you or Barnes.

"Barnes..."

You murmured quietly. He flinches, and his shaking hasn't gotten any better.

"What- what was it? Was it- was it all too much? God, I'm so sorry, it probably was, wasn't it? I should have- fuck, I should have taken it more slowly, I-"

Barnes shakes his head, stopping you in your rambling. You blinked rapidly.

"Then- was it..." you paused, "... Was it the choices?"

It's almost expected that he doesn't answer you straight away, but he nodded anyway.

"I... It was- it was too much- I couldn't- I don't know- I-"

His breath shuddered with each word as if it hurt him to just even speak right now. You shushed him, ignoring the intrusive thought that it was akin to shushing an animal.

"Hey, hey, it's- it's okay. You'll be okay."

It's not much, what you're saying to him, and it's no surprise that they didn't do much anyway.

Honestly, you didn't know what to say at this point. There didn't even seem to be any phrasing in the known English language that would be able to comfort a man with as much baggage on his shoulders as Barnes, and briefly, just briefly, you wished that you were literally anywhere in the world, but here.

You tried thinking about anything that came from your (albeit limited) interactions with him between the past days that would help ground him, before something jolts you from deep within.

("What are my mission parameters," Barnes asked from behind you.

You paused.

"Mission parameters?")

You didn't even realize that you had said that out loud, but Barnes had tensed up even more before you could even take it back. He held his breath, audibly swallowing.

("You don't need mission parameters, Barnes. You're your own free man. You can- can make decisions on your own. You don't need me to tell you what you need to do.")

("I... Don't understand...")

You spoke on impulse.

"You... You need them, don't you? Mission parameters."

Immediately, you regretted even speaking up just as those words left your mouth.

While every fiber in your being hoped that it wasn't true, there was a small inkling in your head that already knew the answer to your question. It was the only thing that was barely even logical enough to make sense.

His apprehension of making a choice.

How uncomfortable in his own skin he always appeared, despite it even being just a few days.

How relieved he always looks, when the choice was already made for him.

His body tenses underneath your hand, but it's the slight bob of his head that makes your stomach drop. You thought- what a fool you were- you thought he'd be okay without being ordered around, but that was nothing but wishful thinking.

(What was the saying? It's hard to teach an old dog a new trick, was it?)

(Yeah.)

Looking at how only a few days of what you had originally thought was Barnes' newfound freedom turned out to be much more of a nightmare for Barnes, it might just be better for the both of you to push aside your comfortability and start making an honest-to-God investment into Barnes' recovery, even if that means that you had to take a step backward.

A very, very risky step backward.

It was a shot in the dark, but it was the only thing that you could place your bets on for now.

You just hoped that your aim wouldn't fail you now.

"Okay, well... How about this, Barnes, here's your main- your main mission, okay? Become a free man. Hey, no, look at me," you swiveled his head so he could look at you. His eyes were panicked, crazed, and irredeemably sad, but you had to make sure nothing crossed through your face so he'd know that everything will be okay. Your grip on both sides of his face was firm as you pleaded with him.

"Your only 'mission' right now? Breathe," ironically, his breath hitched, "If not for your own sake, then for mine."

You swallowed, heart stuttering as you looked into his glassy eyes.

"Please," you let your desperate prayer lingered in the air.

Maybe it was being given a task to accomplish after days of trying to figure out what to do with his supposed new "freedom", or it was how non-labor intensive and just... simple, his new mission parameter was, but it was almost instantaneous how all of the tension in his body dissipated into thin air.

Witnessing the moment of mercy upon grief through Barnes, no matter how brief or temporary it may be, was almost cathartic.

Almost.

(Perhaps you shouldn't be looking for absolution vicariously. But you were never really a good person, were you?)

_______

A/N: I've read a lot of WinterIron fics. While I have read a lot of interpretations about how Barnes would have reacted when he was freshly freed from HYDRA, this is how I choose to interpret it- one that would best fit the story for now. Next chapter, since I couldn't fit it in this chapter, is a special, but it is very much important and related to the story, and Barnes as a character. If you're familiar with some WinterIron tropes, this won't be too foreign of an idea. Not too sure about other ships/ stories, but. Ah, I'm rambling. Anyways, see you next year lol.

_______

Masterlist 

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Tagged: @unsolvetheheckoutofit @tonystanktheirondad @ludwigvonbaethoven @rspctot7 (if you’re not @/ fabledxmystery, so sorry for the mistag! LMK if it’s not you) @tolkoskott @klanceiscannon14 @deos-life (grr it won’t let me tag you) @kp1183 (kperla1183) @xyuriko-akamine (akabaneyuriko) @kettnerjanea​ @soldier-42 @daybreakmistakes @spnfanboy777 @crash-zite @jm-cy

[ahopelessromantic]

Stops Along the Road ➳ D. Morgan

Pairing: Derek Morgan x Reader

Wordcount: Roughly 4k

Warnings: None really, some cursing, a gun wound, mentions of pregnancy, Morgan and the reader are stupid

Summary: The road to finding your way to Morgan once and for all was a long one, but you’ve never enjoyed a ride more. (A/N: I’m so happy to finally be writing again! Criminal Minds is back on Amazon Prime and back is my inspiration baby! I know this is a bit different from my usual stuff, but I quite liked the format of the little insights into the life of reader and Derek. I hope you’ll enjoy!)

The one with the flirting

“Okay, is it just me or was the captain heavily flirting with Morgan?” JJ grinned, leaning in closer to her colleagues so no one at the station would over her them. You were in the middle of packing up your stuff right by them, trying to listen in as inconspicuously as possible. „Oh god, please don’t bring it up.“ Emily laughed, sending a confused frown across JJ’s forehead. „Why that?“ „(Y/N) gets weirdly protective of Morgan when someone’s flirting with him. It’s almost like she wants to fight them every time.“ Spencer chimed in. It was just then that you realised you probably should have gone into hiding as soon as JJ had walked up to them with her ‘I have gossip’ face. „See?“ Emily grinned at her colleague, then at you. You wanted to disappear.

„Even Reid notices. You gritted your teeth. “I don’t want him to get hurt, so what? Derek is just as protective of me with guys. We look out for each other.” Emily looked like she wanted to continue poking around, but starting to feel defensive you snapped at her. “My friendship with Derek is not your business, okay? We are what we are, and no matter how weird it may seem to you, just accept it. We’re nothing to gossip about.” The bad conscience already kicked in while you made your dramatic exit, but you swallowed it down with a heavy sigh. Constantly working around the same people sometimes caused them to get a bit too close for comfort, and their eternal teasing about you and your best friend was starting to get on your nerves. The bond you and Derek shared couldn’t be described with words and certainly, wasn’t really comprehensible to people looking in from the outside, so you wished they could just take it as it was and let you two be. You had more important things on your mind than thinking about what your coworkers’ opinions on the relationship between you and your best friend, as much as you loved them. More important things like the next case that you had already been called in for, for example.

The one with the gun wound You knew that your job wasn’t easy. You knew it brought many dangers with it, and you knew that people were bound to wind up hurt at some point. But in all your worrying over your team, that was like family to you, you had never expected yourself to be the one getting injured at some point. But here you were, shot by an unsub that had been restrained by Prentiss mere moments after he had fired his gun at you. You were sitting on the floor, jaw hurting from clenching it too hard, Morgan kneeling next to you. His body exuded warmth you desperately needed, and you couldn’t be more grateful to have his soothing presence right there beside you. „Shh. Come on, keep on breathing.” He spoke calmly, but the way his hand was squeezing yours told you a whole different story. “It’s just a shot in the leg.” You rolled your eyes and groaned, trying your best to play it off. He looked at you with his dark eyes, a mix between a deadpan and a smile that only he was able to do. „Doesn’t matter, it‘s still gonna hurt and you don’t have to act all tough like it doesn’t, okay?“ You released the breath you had been holding in a cough, teeth still gritted. „I feel like once I acknowledge that it hurts I’m going to start screaming or cursing really bad. Possibly both.“ Your voice was fainter than you would have liked it to be. He gave your hand another squeeze. „Come on, let go. The paramedics will be here in no time and then they’ll dope you up on painkillers anyway. Will you unclench your teeth now before they shatter in your jaw, you stubborn woman?“ You half chuckled, half sobbed and then decided to hell with it. You relaxed your body and started taking deep breaths again, and with the breathing in came the pain. „Motherfucker!“ You yelled, an even worse string of curses escaping your lips right after. Derek just chuckled. „See, there you go. Just let it all out.“ You just glanced daggers at him. „You are so paying for the drinks next time we’re going out.“ He just chuckled. Sometimes you hated him.

The one with the wedding If someone were to ask you what you loved most about your best friend, you would probably tell them that he was easy. There was never any doubt with him, you didn’t have to question anything about him or your friendship. Morgan was your person and you were his. Period. Your support for each other was quiet, so quiet that other people sometimes forgot about just how deep your affection for each other ran. But his love was there when he placed you coffee order on your desk every morning without words, it was there when he gave you a birthday present you had once only shortly mentioned and then never spoken of again, it was there when you patched him up with your little to none medical knowledge after he had been too rough in kicking a door down once again. So it wasn’t really a surprise that he had been the one to find you hiding out in the gardens. You were sitting on a bench, feeling miserable in your little yellow dress. Normally you were a huge fan of weddings, a huge fan of love, but this one had set something off inside of you. Most of your friends from high school were long married already, your team members were tying the knot one by one, too, and here you still were, alone on a bench with no ring on your finger and no family to come home to. “Thought I’d find you out here.” Derek’s voice ripped you out of your thoughts, and you were so grateful to see his stupid face that you almost started crying. It was as if that man had a sixth sense for your emotions, a talent for always being right where you needed him. “I’m… getting some fresh air.” You lied, knowing that he wasn’t going to be fooled by it. He sat down next to you, his eyes mustering you as if they were trying to decode your emotions. “I thought you loved weddings.” You chuckled and looked up at him through your lashes. “I do. It’s just… something about this one is bugging me. I feel awful for even letting my thoughts go there, but I just couldn’t help it tonight. You know, everyone in there is happy, with boyfriends and husbands and wives and a future to look forward to, and all I’ve got is my job and a car that my best friend likes to steal.” Derek chuckled, probably picturing himself in your beloved BMW convertible for a moment. A comfortable silence spread between the two of you, and it could have stayed that way. Just two friends sitting in a garden, enjoying the evening. But you felt the urge to talk more about this gnawing feeling in your chest, to get to know if he, at least, felt like that too. “Don’t you ever get worried? About the future? That you’ll end up alone and sad, with no one to grow old with?” He exhaled, looking happy that you had opened up yourself without him having to squeeze it out of you. For a moment he looked pensive, his gaze wandering off into the distance. You watched him closely, the strong eyebrows, the delicate face. It was a face you knew like no other, a face that had seen you in all your worst moments. “No.” He finally spoke up. “I’m not worried.” He said with an almost reverent honesty that took you off guard. “I honestly don’t know what will happen in the future. But I know that you’re in it, and nothing calms me more than knowing that. So no matter what happens, there will be you and I.“ You sighed and leaned against his shoulder, causing him to place his arm around you. Somehow, those few words had calmed you. You weren’t going to be alone, ever. “I love you, Derek.” You murmured into the night. He turned his head to press a kiss against your temple. “I love you too. Now come on, let’s break up this little pity party of yours and make use of the open bar. I mean, how often do we get free booze?” You felt a smile grow across your lips against your will. “Basically never. But you have to promise to dance with me.” Morgan got up from the bench and held out his hand to you. “Honey, if you give me two more glasses of champagne I’ll even dance the chicken dance for you.” You threw your head back and laughed, taking his hand. “Alright, idiot. Let’s go give them a show.”

The one where his mother gets involved „I love seeing you two together so much.“ You blushed and, in an attempt to hide it, continued chopping the vegetables. „Derek always seems so free without you, you know? So happy. He doesn’t allow himself to be like that with anyone else.“ You dared yourself to look at your best friend’s mom, not expecting the look on her face to be so serious. „He’s just my Derek.“ You chuckled awkwardly, not really seeing the big deal in his change of behaviour around you. You acted differently when it was just the two of you as well, but wasn’t that how people were when they let their guards down? The smallest of smiles snuck across Mrs Morgan‘s lips. „Exactly honey, your Derek. He’s yours.“ You felt yourself freeze, but as if she knew exactly what she was doing the small woman smacked you with one of her kitchen towels. „You know how desperate I am for grandchildren, I’ll take any chance I get! Can’t you at least maybe think about it?“ You laughed, maybe a little bit too loudly, and rolled your eyes. „Nice try, Mrs M. But I’ll tell you when I get there.“ Morgan couldn’t help the weird feeling in his chest upon overhearing the conversation between you and his mother. Above all, of course, was the air of familiarity with which you interacted. You were never just someone who tagged along with him, these days you belonged into his family home almost as much as he did. But then, the deeper undertones of his mother’s words gnawed away at his subconscious, as if they were trying to unlock something that wasn’t there yet. Your Derek. After years of playing the role of the tough guy, the man of the family, a victim hiding the fact that he was just that, you had somehow been the first person he had allowed himself to be soft again with. For some reason, he only realised it now, how easily you had snuck past his guards and made yourself at home way beyond them. The words of an ex-girlfriend came to his mind. „I’m tired of trying to drill through your walls, Derek. There’s always some part of you that’s hidden from me and I don’t deserve that.“ She had been right, with her words, and right to break up with him. He hadn’t truly let someone new into his life in years. Not since you had come along anyway. But he shook his head and entered the kitchen with a bright smile plastered on his face. Today was not the day to think about such profound things. Today was all about his mother, and there would be other days to venture into unveiling the true nature of his affection for you.

The one where it’s enough It had been a while since the thoughts of you and him had started blooming in Derek’s chest. Maybe it had been his mother, maybe it had been the number of years you had already spent in your weird little companionship, but somehow, he couldn’t help seeing you in a completely different light. Suddenly every laugh you laughed was for him, suddenly every touch made his heartbeat speed up. It was almost as if he was a teenager again, only that his crush was his best friend and he couldn’t just run away from you without arousing suspicion. He watched you pack your bag at your desk, a gorgeous burgundy dress he had never seen before clinging to your figure. “Oh wow. You’re dressed up like that for him?” You turned around in surprise upon hearing your best friend’s voice. “Derek? What are you still doing here?” You were the last ones still at work, everyone else had left to go home or somewhere else already. You had shoved in some extra hours tonight, mainly to distract yourself from the evening ahead. An ex of yours was back in town, and he had made it more than clear to you that he had changed and that this time, he was ready to be serious about you. You didn’t even really know yourself why you had agreed to go out for dinner with him, maybe it was the fear of feeling as lonely as you had on the wedding again. Derek stepped closer to you, an almost desperate look in his eyes. You shuddered, not prepared for the intensity of his gaze. “Don’t go on this date, (Y/N). You’ll just allow him back into your life and settle for way less than you actually deserve and-“ You frowned and watched him shake his head in frustration, not able to read his behaviour. This was a side of Derek you had never seen before, one you didn’t know, and it made you anxious. But then, suddenly, he sent you one last weird look, stepped closer to you and grabbed your face to kiss you. You felt your eyes widen, looking at him in confusion after pulling away. “Wha- what are you doing?” You stammered out; afraid he had made a terrible mistake. There had always been clear lines between the two of you, lines that had never been openly discussed yet also lines that had never been crossed. Derek cupped the side of your face, forcing you to look at him. “I need to do this before I forever regret never taking a shot at us. I love you, (Y/N), and not just in the way I’ve thought. You’re not just in my future, I think you... you are my future. No one will ever fit as much with us like us. Our crazy jobs, our stupid addiction to cheesy 90’s music, the years of experience we have with handling each other through our highs and lows…We would be stupid not to at least try it.” You exhaled the breath you hadn’t even known you’d been holding in. “So don’t go on this date, don’t let this stupid guy make you think that mediocrity is all you deserve. We might not work out in the end, which I think is highly unlikely, but we definitely are anything but mediocre. I burn for you, (Y/N), and with the way we subconsciously keep sabotaging our own relationships I can’t help but hope that you feel the same.” You blinked at him for a moment, still not really sure about what exactly was happening. You didn’t even dare properly thinking it through, but not even that scared you. This felt right, as right as nothing in your life had ever felt before. It was Derek, after all. He was your person. So you held onto his strong arms, got on your tiptoes, and tentatively kissed him. This time it was him who looked at you in surprise after pulling away, his chest heaving as if he were out of breath. “I love you too.” You whispered. You looked at each other for a moment, trying to think of what to do next. And then you were all over each other.

The one where everyone finds out “We’re not telling anyone about this. This is our thing.” You spoke, closing the last two bottoms on your blouse. Derek watched you from where he was sitting on the edge of his bed, humming in agreement. “They’ll never let us live this down if we tell them that we’re together now. Can you imagine the teasing from Prentiss and Hotch?” You shuddered at his words, making your way over to him and sinking down on his lap. “This is just ours for now.” You smiled and kissed him carefully. Sometimes you still couldn’t believe you got to do that now, to just kiss your best friend whenever you felt like it. It was exhilarating, and you almost regretted all the years it had taken you to get to that point. He snaked his arms around you and pulled you closer, the warmth in his eyes robbing you of your ability to speak. “Ours.” He repeated as if he couldn’t believe it himself. You kissed him again, just to remind him of how much you were his now. Then the two of you got ready to go to work. It wasn’t exactly a rarity to see the two of you coming into the BAU together on some mornings, so you didn’t even bother arriving on separate times, and yet something seemed to be notably different about the two of you. Something so different that, when you saw Spencer slip a fifty-dollar bill into JJ’s hand, you knew that there was no keeping secrets in this godforsaken team. The teasing during the next few weeks was awful, and hadn’t the two of you loved your co-workers and friends so much you would have probably reported their bullying to HR. But nothing could overshadow your happiness at this point. You both felt as if you had finally fully stepped into life, finally stepped into your full potential. The happiest out of all the people over your getting together though, even happier than you yourselves, was Derek’s mother. She had yelled out in joy upon hearing the news over the phone, scolding Derek for how long she had known without him listening to her and making you laugh. A few months later you finally found the time to visit Derek’s family as a real couple for the first time, already feeling bad for how long it had taken you. The first half-hour was, again, spent with Mrs Morgan telling the two of you about how she had known all along and always wished for you to get together already. “Now, all I need to be completely happy is a grandchild.” She casually said over dinner and caused you to choke on your food. Derek hid his laughter in his napkin and threw you a look that just about said ‘you knew what you were getting yourself into’. “But I can see that we’re already close to that. How far along are you, (Y/N) dear?” Suddenly Derek wasn’t laughing anymore. You felt yourself freeze in shock and blinked at your boyfriend’s mother in shock. “Huh?!” You asked with the most conviction. She happily chatted on. “Oh honey, you can’t tell me that all that glowing is just from my son, as much as I love him.” You put your fork down with trembling fingers. “Mrs Morgan, I’m not pregnant.” She looked at you, narrowed her eyes, and then shrugged. “Alright. I just had a feeling.” You knew damn well that she wasn’t done with this yet, but the topic seemed to be finished for the moment and you awkwardly moved to other subjects with your conversations. Later that night, Morgan watched you getting ready for bed with the same weird look as his mother. “Should I go get you a test?” He asked. You exhaled. “I’m not pregnant Derek!”, you almost yelled in exasperation. He lowered his gaze. “But… you have been looking different. Something feels different.” You smiled and sat down beside him on the little bench at the end of the bed. “That’s because I am different. I’m the happiest I’ve ever been, okay? It’s got nothing to do with a baby, as much as your mom hopes for one.” Derek chuckled and took your hands, lifting them to press a kiss against the both of them. “Do you think we should take her to a doctor? Maybe she’s not doing alright.” You laughed and shoved at his shoulder. “Now you’re just being mean, babe.” Still chuckling you crawled underneath the covers, patting the empty space next to you. He understood immediately, laying down next to you and pulling you close to his toned body. You closed your eyes and enjoyed the silence for a moment, the calm you always felt in your best friend’s embrace. “I am surprised, though.” You spoke into the silence. Derek hummed in question, his warm chest vibrating beneath your ear. “I thought you would be freaking out at the prospect of a baby. Yet here you were, just offering me to get a test.” He turned to be able to look at you, his face displaying surprise over his own behaviour. “Huh. I guess…” He inhaled deeply. “I guess it wouldn’t be so bad if it was with you. We’re gonna have them anyway, right? I thought that was part of the deal.” You both laughed. “Part of your mom’s deal, anyway.” He chuckled at your words. “But in all seriousness, I look forward to it, Derek. One day we’ll have a few little Morgans running around, and with our genes, they’ll be adorable. Your mom just caught me off guard, you know? We basically just started dating, even though we’ve known each other for so long. It would be a little soon, wouldn’t it?” Derek just shrugged and tucked a stray strand of hair behind your ear. “If it happens, it happens. I’ll take whatever life throws at me as long as I’ve got you by my side.”

The one where his mom knows best Was there a secret rule that mothers had to be clairvoyant, or all-knowing? It was a week later, and you had just emptied your stomach’s contents into your trash bin at work. You had been feeling dizzy the past few days, and your sense of smell had changed, too. For today, you decided to play it off as a placebo effect and continued with your day, even though Derek looked at your pale face in worry all day. But the next day was Saturday, the day you and Derek traditionally cooked a big breakfast together, and when the smell of his famous pancakes sent you running to the toilet you knew what was up. Your boyfriend ran into the toilet after you, rushing to hold your hair up and stroke your back. Once you were done coughing up your lungs and were able to sit up straight again, you met his gaze in shock and closed your eyes. And then the two of you started laughing. “Mother knows best, huh?” You laughed, burying your face in your hands. “Is there any way we can keep this from her? Just to spite her?” Derek chuckled and pressed the longest kiss against your forehead. “No way, I’m afraid. She’s never gonna shut up about this.” You smiled and looked at him, really looked at him kneeling on the floor with you. You thought back to the talk you had had in his childhood bedroom, the talk you had had at the wedding, the way he had been so sure of your future together. With him by your side, you were going to be alright. So maybe you weren’t going to shut up about this either.

[obsidianfr3sk]

five valentine’s day that went wrong and one that (almost) didn’t

@queercreators event 02: romance — [ five valentine’s day that went wrong and one the (almost) didn’t ]      [ “Five Things” Fic ] “

dedicated to my dear Reneweys [ @nodrianbcyes @honey-hippie-harper​ @healing-winston-pratt @alecjamesartino @bluenoctuary-art @everyone-has-a-nightmare ] ♡

Summary: They always managed to ruin their Valentine's Days one way or another, but it didn't matter. Because there was no way they could ruin what the two of them had.Boy, he would like to see someone try.

AO3

Well, hello there!!! It’s been a while since the last time I posted something x’d I know I always say the same thing but it’s true skjdfhkjdfs I started this fic during the first week of febreary when I had this shot of adrenaline and started to do a lot of creative stuff, and originally I wanted to post this during Valentine’s Day, but... the shot of adrenaline passed x’d and let me to deal with this alone.

As you can see for the description, this a “Five Thing” fic. At first I wanted to post each chapter seperately, but idk, it seem a little bit... weird x’d so, here in Tumblr, the six chapters are all in one post. If you don’t like the format, but want to read the fic, you can find it on AO3! Don’t forget to leave kudos and a comment if you liked it:’)

Now... I’m not used to write happy sttuf in general x’d AND I’M LESS USED TO WRITE HAPPY STUFF ABOUT HUGH AND SIMON BECAUSE SKJDFHKJDSF the angst, dudes:))) but I think I did. Like... I actually wrote a fluffy fic:’) I’m so proud of myself dkjfhkfdshjk

Tag list: @the-lady-with-the-pen @chiyuki-hiro @all-weather-is-bad @styeenza

First try

Year 2

It was the second Valentine's Day after the beginning of the Age of Anarchy, and the capacity that the human being had to adapt themselves to the most terrible of conditions never ceased to amaze him. The economy had collapsed, the government had fallen, his school was practically one of the last ones still in open, and there was a “fucking junkie” ruling the city...

But the world celebrated Valentine's Day anyway.

Or at least in his class did.

The teacher had brought a bunch of cardboard boxes, that looked like she had fought with some tramps to get them (which she probably did, they were too many boxes for one person to generate) (unless she was a crazy person who collected boxes). She gave one to each one of her students, took out the last bottles of paint, pieces of colored cardboard, and rusty scissors, and then told them that today they were going to learn how to make a mailbox.

At first, Hugh had no idea what turning a box into a mailbox had to do with the curriculum the school was supposed to follow. It's not like people sent a lot of letters anyway. But when the girls got excited, he remembered that February 14 was something like an important date. And then, he remembered an activity that they did during his first year, when everyone decorated a box for their classmates to put letters and sweets in it.

First year… And now he was in his third year.

Time flies by.

After telling them which parts to cut into (Hugh had to share his scissors with other three classmates because there weren't enough for everyone), she invited them to pick the decorations they wanted to put on their mailboxes. The girls pounced on the pink, red, and even white paint, while most of the boys laughed, saying it was a stupid activity and they didn't want to do it. Hugh felt the urge to agree, but he didn't

He had already tried to make them like him. It hadn't worked for him.

So he grabbed a bottle of navy blue paint, some cartoon bear stickers, some notebook paper, and a bitten pencil. That would be enough to make his mailbox and his cards.

After a while, he started to have a good time. Crafts had never been his strong suit, but he was proud of how it ended up looking. One couldn’t tell his mailbox used to be a cereal box because the paint he used was so dark, that it only needed two coats of it and it dried much faster than Abernathy’s, who had practically finished the pink paint trying to hide the face of that missing child in the milk carton box the teacher gave to her. Hugh realized that she was holding her tears back, and as the good classmate that he was, he told her not to worry, that the missing child could be decoration if she painted him a mustache or something, and it would look very funny. Abernathy, far from finding it funny, acted super offended, assuring she had never met a child as rude and insensitive as Hugh Everhart, and she ran out of the classroom, hiding her face in her hands and screaming like a baby.

Unfortunately, the rest of his class agreed with her, and when it came time to deliver the cards, Hugh did not receive a single one. Although he doubted it had anything to do with that missing boy thing.

They wouldn't have given him anything anyway.

He wasn't sure if they knew he was a prodigy. Maybe they had noticed that it wasn't normal that Hugh had practically broken a chair in two when he placed his backpack on it to get something out, or that he had left the PE teacher unconscious when he accidentally threw a ball at his face while they were playing soccer. The teachers, if they noticed, didn't say anything. After all, that school was supposed to be only for normal kids.

Not prodigies. 

But children could be very insightful. Most likely, they did notice and therefore did not want to be associate with him.

Or maybe— 

Maybe they just didn't want to hang out with Hugh, because of… that.

Because he was Hugh.

He decided to wait for everyone else to leave before starting to cry (or before breaking another chair, whichever came first). Or at least that was what he was about to do when he heard that someone had come up with the same idea as him and started crying first. 

Simon Westwood had never been too talkative. Even before his older sister and mother died, he liked to sit at the last table, not speaking to anyone, and some older kids were constantly picking on him, without any teacher trying to do anything to stop them.

Not that Hugh was paying much attention to him or something.

The teacher practically ran to see what was going on with Simon Westwood, asking him what happened and why hadn’t he finished decorating his mailbox. Simon Westwood tried to explain it to her, but he was mumbling his words so neither the teacher nor Hugh could understand what he was saying. 

Hugh didn’t get mad with him though. His mom had died. His sister died too, a couple of weeks later. He wouldn’t be in the mood for doing cheesy crafts if the same had happened to him. But the teacher wasn’t as benevolent as him, and started to say things like she was trying really hard to bring joy to her students, and that she was sure that if he tried a little bit harder, he would be able to enjoy Valentine’s Day, like the rest of them. 

“Let’s see what nice things your classmates have said about you,” she exclaimed. But that only made Simon Westwood start crying again.

No one had given him a card. 

Like… no one.

And Hugh was listening to all of this conversation, just sitting there, trying to stay as stiff as he could so they wouldn’t notice he was there (as if he weren’t literally right in front of them). Seeing Simon cried like that made him think that maybe he was just acting though when the other kids laugh at him because of his looks, his ratty old clothes (older and rattier than theirs), or just—

His mind exploded. 

He suddenly understood why the other kids didn't like Simon Westwood. It was before he was him.

Just like how they didn’t like Hugh Everhart because he was Hugh Everhart. 

When the teacher went out of the classroom with Simon, saying something about calling his dad (although he knew they wouldn’t be able to do that, since no one had a functioning phone those days), he took one of the cards he did for his classmates, cards that he never gave to them, and put one inside Simon Westwood’s mailbox/cereal box. He had left his backpack and his things there. When he came back to take them home, he would see the card too.

A voice in his head told him to get out of there before he came back, but another one told him to stay. Maybe Simon Westwood and he could be friends. Maybe he would understand what it felt like to be hated just for the way you were born. Maybe he was a prodigy too. 

Or maybe he wasn’t.

He couldn’t take that chance. 

So Hugh went home, but promised Simon Westwood (and himself) he would keep an eye on him. 

After all, friends were there to have each other’s back. 

Because they were friends, even if Simon didn't know it yet.

Second try

Year 9

They were friends. 

He had never seen Hugh before meeting him on that alley where Simon got his powers. Like— he had seen him because he was in the same class as him, but he hadn't really seen him. During his childhood years, Simon was more focused on other things. Like being a little depressed and anxious ball with skinny legs and skinny arms, for example.

It wasn’t like he wasn’t depressed or anxious now. Nor it was he had gotten super muscular all of the sudden, like Hugh (he had always been bigger than the other kids, but he practically turned twelve and already looked like a teenager, except for the voice and the face). 

But at that moment, he wasn’t depressed or anxious. He felt weirdly at peace. 

He and Hugh were walking down the street, thinking about which store were they going to rob that day to get dinner for them and their families, when Simon noticed a couple holding hands in front of an abandoned café. She had dark hair and he had blue eyes, which looked at his girlfriend as if she was the Virgin Mary or something. Then, she kissed him and gave him a small blue flower and a heart-shaped card. The guy looked so moved by the gesture that he kissed her on the lips again, with so much more passion than before. 

Simon looked away before they realized he was looking at them, not only because he didn’t want to come off as creepy, but also because he knew how awkward he would feel if they started to make out or something. 

“Love is in the air,” Hugh sang.

Simon chuckled. “You noticed them too?”

“I noticed them when she gave him the flower,” he told him. “I had never seen a girl giving flowers to a guy before.”

“Times have changed, I guess. That’s why they don’t feel uncomfortable giving such public displays of affection. Kids in our day weren’t like that.”

“I know, right?” said Hugh continuing with the joke. “They are so perverted. There are children present, for God’s sake.”

Simon chuckled again and Hugh stopped to tie his shoe. While he was there, Simon noticed he was throwing glances at them. 

“You know, giving them the death stare isn’t gonna prevent them from being in love,” Simon told him.

“I can try,” Hugh joked. Then, he shook his head. “It’s not that. I just—”

He waited for him a couple of seconds before asking, “Just what?”

He finally answered, “Someday we’ll have something like that.”

Simon frowned. “Huh?”

“You know,” Hugh mumbled. “We’ll have girlfriends and— and all of that.”

“Oh!” Simon exclaimed. “Yeah, someday, yeah.”

But before Simon could keep talking about it (or just develop some opinion on the topic) Hugh shrugged and urged him to keep walking. “I guess. I didn’t even remember today was Valentine’s Day though. They were my reminder—” he turned around and waved at them “—Thank you, exhibitionists, you reminded me what day is it!”

Now, Hugh probably didn’t mean for them to hear him say that. Simon knew him well enough to know Hugh thought he wasn’t being loud, but the thing was… Hugh was always loud. He could be “whispering” and the whole neighborhood would hear him ask Simon if he knew how bars with strippers worked because he did know, and wanted to brag about it. Then, Simon would feel embarrassed, because, in fact, he didn’t know how bars with strippers work.

Simon immediately turned around and realized the girl was looking at them with an expression he couldn’t read. He turned invisible and pushed Hugh inside of an alley, hoping those trashcans hid them well enough in case the guy turned out to be a freaking animal and wanted to kick their flat asses for calling them exhibitionists. 

Simon felt the anxiety kicking in, when Hugh started laughing so loud, that said anxiety turn into the need of punching him really hard on the arm.

So he did it. Multiple times.

“Dude, dude, shut the fuck up, dude,” Simon said keeping his voice low (because he could keep his voice down, unlike others), “that guy’s gonna kick our asses, for real. Dudeeee—”

But his voice kinda cracked when he said that “Dudeee—” and that made Hugh laugh even more, so Simon kept punching him, using a vocabulary that would make the most dangerous of gangster blush. And he probably would have kept hitting him, if the anxiety of being discovered hadn't been overshadowed by how weird it made him feel to see his best friend laugh.

When Hugh laughed, his cheeks would turn red and his eyes would water. They could be in the most embarrassing situation ever, one where no one was laughing, and if he found it funny, he was going to do it, because he wasn't going to be able to help it. And it wasn't like Simon would stop him, either. Not at all. He liked it when he laughed. 

Even though he ended up making him laugh too. Like at that moment.

Most of the garbage ended up in the drains, the sidewalk, or anywhere else except where it belonged, the trash can. Generally, Hugh always refused when someone hinted at sitting on the floor, precisely for that reason. However, on that occasion, the two were sitting in that stinking alley, throwing pebbles at each other, playing with some bottle caps they found on the ground, and arguing about who would win a bare-handed fight, Wonder Man or Phantom Feline.

They decided it was time to go home when a cat-sized rat appeared out of nowhere, and the two of them came out screaming like idiots, even faster than they would have run if that guy with the girlfriend would have chased them. They ran until they reached Simon's house, all sweaty and tired, their hands on their bent knees and breathing heavily.

Then Hugh laughed again. And his cheeks were flushed again, and his eyes were watery again, and he made Simon laugh again until Mr. Westwood came home from work and told him to go inside, that it was too late to be outside.

Once he was locked in his room, with his younger sister playing in the living room and his father in the kitchen, the image of that guy kissing his girlfriend did not make him feel anything. So, he tried to imagine kissing a lot of girls that he considered a thousand times more attractive, but just when it seemed that the idea was beginning to be something desirable, Hugh came back, with his laugh, his screams, and his eyes, like one of those freaking trains that he dreamed of having the opportunity to stop one day and that never missed a single chance to tell Simon all about it. 

The truth was that Simon did believe that Hugh might be able to stop a train with his bare hands, but he doubted he would be able to stop the train of thought that Simon hopped on whenever he thought of him. And he was so ashamed to know that not even the strongest prodigy on the planet was capable of doing that, that he decided to take those memories from the collar of the old blue hoodie that each one of them wore and bury them alive in the backyard of his memory.

Forever and ever.

Thrid try

Year 12

Two months ago, after their first date, Simon told Hugh he would never plan another important date, forever and ever. But now, Simon had let him plan their first Valentine's Day together without putting any objections, proving that he trusted him. And he was happy for him; Simon had always had problems when it came to trusting other people. It was nice to see the other grow to become a better person. 

And it was even nicer when you were no longer only friends, but a couple. 

So yeah, he wanted to make Valentine's Day special. It was kind of a big deal. 

Georgia and Tamaya brainstormed with him places he could take Simon to. They all agreed that it had to be a place safe enough and that it wouldn't put them in a situation where they had to reveal their powers, and by consequence, their secret identities. But then, everything started going downhill, especially because Georgia had some very odd ideas (like something about flowers, a choreographed dance, and poetry) and Tamaya was as romantic as a rock (“Just don't end up nearly killing yourself in front of him, that should be enough.”)

It was February 13th, and Hugh was on his cot, a bit angry at Georgia and Tamaya, not only because they couldn't help him on such an important mission as they promised, but also because they blamed him for their failure, telling him that he "had no imagination" and that he "thought with his dick", just because he thought all their ideas were horrible. 

Maybe he should have phrased that better... 

Simon and Evander slept on the bunk bed Simon used to share with his younger sister. Simon was taking a shower, so he was all alone with Evander and Kasumi, who sometimes went there to visit her best friend, even if Tamaya told her not to do it because it smelled horrible in there and she would bring the odor to the girl’s bedroom (Hugh thought the room didn't smell bad at all, and if it did, it was because Evander acted like he was living in the street yesterday and had no sense of personal hygiene). But Kasumi didn’t seem to mind, and she spent most of her afternoons cuddling with Evander on the top bunk, while she read an old book and Evander read one of Simon’s comics (because Hugh would join the Anarchists before letting Evander touch his comics).

They started whispering at each other about who knows what, and even though he kind of wanted to know what they were talking about, he was just too tired, so he decided to put a pillow on his face and try to fall asleep. But then, he heard, quite clearly, that they said his name. 

And he couldn’t let slip that. 

He pulled the pillow off his face, and said, “What are you saying about me?”

They both peered over the edge of the bunk. “We were talking about how you're not good at romance,” Evander replied.

The audacity of that b— boy.

“You are eleven years old," he told him. “What are you going to know about romance?”

“No more than you,” Kasumi acknowledged, very solemnly.

Hugh made his “See?” face and he looked away.

Then, Evander asked, “Why don’t you take him to Cosmopolis Park?”

Oh, stars. He couldn’t be serious.

Cosmopolis Park.

A freaking theme park. 

Evander was eleven, all right. His idea of a date was probably something out of a princess movie he and Kasumi watched from time to time (sometimes Tamaya joined them too and she always acted like she was just watching it to make fun of it, even though everyone in the house knew she had a weird soft spot for cheesy princess movies). But Hugh was technically an adult now. He should know better, and knowing better was not taking your boyfriend to a theme park for Valentine’s Day. That wasn’t very romantic.

“What a stupid idea.”

Kasumi got red all of the sudden. For the look at Evander’s face, Hugh knew he had fucked up even before she said, “It was my idea…”

“Oh— no, Zoomie, I… what I meant was that—”

“Don’t fix it, bro,” Evander interrupted him. “You’re gonna make me want to punch you more.”

He wasn’t afraid of Evander punching him because he couldn’t compare a kid’s strength to his, but he obeyed him and mumbled a small, “Sorry.”

The “sorry” was for Kasumi though, not for Evander. If Kasumi hadn’t been there, he probably would have told Evander something like “Oh, yeah? You’re gonna punch me, little punk? Come on, punch me, don’t be a pussy” (and then Georgia would have stormed into the room, telling him not to use the word “pussy”, and they would have pointed at each other saying “He started it!”)

After giving him a goodnight kiss, Kasumi got off Evander’s bed, with the book under her arm. Before leaving the room, she knelt beside Hugh to kiss him goodnight, as to show his comment didn’t cause her to feel any kind of resentment towards him.

Because of course it didn’t. Kasumi was like that.

“I was just saying— Valentine’s Day is also a day to be with friends,” she whispered. “And you and Simon are not only boyfriends but also... you know, friends. I bet that wherever you take him, it'd be magical for both of you. Because you find magic in each other's company, even before you knew you were in love. So... why not?”

She turned off the lights on her way out.

He never thought Kasumi’s tendency to romanticize everything was odd or weird. It was something that he expected from a teenage girl, especially one who has such a vivid imagination. But he also never expected that imagination would help him in some way. And he never expected for her to say the exact words he wanted to hear, even before he knew he wanted to hear them.

She was so wise.

Cosmopolis Park didn’t sound like a bad idea anymore when Simon entered just after Kasumi, wearing his pajamas, and asked him with a teasing voice, “So… where are you gonna take me tomorrow?”

Hugh didn’t know if Evander was already asleep, so he just smiled at him and told him it was a surprise. Simon rolled his eyes and gave him a soft kiss on the nose before getting into his own bed. 

It was his way of telling him he trusted him. And relationships were supposed to be built upon trust. He didn't need anyone to tell him that.

As far as he knew, Simon hadn't been to Cosmopolis Park in years, probably before the Age of Anarchy began. It was no secret that the park was currently full of gangs and drug addicts but it was still a relatively peaceful place. At least peaceful enough that the park was full of families, groups of friends, and tons of couples.

Although there weren’t any couples...

Well, there weren’t any couples like them.

He wondered if Simon noticed that small detail too, but when he turned to ask him that, he knew it would be better if he just kept his comments to himself. Because he wasn't an expert reading other people's emotions, but Simon...

Simon looked so happy at the moment.

The two walked side by side, their shoulders brushing against each other's, but their hands tucked deep into their pockets. Hugh was trying to keep his eyes fixed forward to avoid bumping into anyone, but the small chuckles Simon let out every time he saw something that surprised him, made said task impossible. Suddenly, he no longer wanted to avoid the embarrassment that would cause him to bother someone by bumping into them; he wanted to look at him.

He wanted to look at him trying to hide his laughter by covering his mouth with his hand, as if he wanted to suppress some kind of dark feeling, without realizing that his joy was so full of light that it was practically impossible. He wanted to continue to see how his dark eyes, with very long lashes and deep bags under the eyes, perfectly captured the lights of the Ferris wheel and the food trucks. He wanted to see the tiny smile he had the entire time they were at the park because even if Simon didn't smile like that very often, when he did, Hugh felt as if he was witnessing the most wonderful of miracles.

Hugh took his hands out of his pocket, and when he turned his attention back to Simon, he was looking at him too. They stopped in their tracks, not caring that people passed around them, sometimes unintentionally pushing them a bit or stepping on their shoelaces. 

Hugh took a step forward and Simon did too. 

Then Simon pulled a hand out of his grey jacket's pocket, making him wonder if he was dreaming or if it was really going to happen.

Hugh held his breath and felt the blood rush to his face, along with the overwhelming feeling that everyone around him was staring at them, with the newly acquired gift of recognizing those two faces that always hid behind pair of colorful masks and now were gazing at each other with true devotion. He desperately wanted to know what was going through their heads, he wanted to know if they still considered them worthy of their admiration and respect, and he wanted to know if he had been right when he assured Simon that, someday, the two of them would hold each other in public without thinking it twice.

But then, just as Simon's fingers brushed his cheek, his attention was completely diverted to someone behind Hugh.

“Are you talking to me?” he asked awkwardly.

Hugh turned to see who his boyfriend was talking to. He was a slightly older man, juggling three balls and standing on the table of his own stand. He was smiling at Simon and he had a mustache that quite frankly made him look like a ridiculous comic villain.

“Yes, you!” and he threw a ball at Simon.

Simon covered his face with his hands, but Hugh caught the ball before it hit him.

Who did this guys think he was?

The guy, far from mocking Simon's reaction, seemed intrigued. “Do you want to win a prize, big guy?” he asked Hugh.

Hugh was ready to say no to him in the kindest way he could, when the guy pulled out a laundry basket, like the one Georgia put on his head every Sunday, saying "Laundry time!" in a voice so high that made birds explode. 

“You just have to throw that ball you have in your hand—” he raised the basket “—here. And you can win a prize.”

He finally gave him a chance to reply. “No, thank you, we’re fine.”

He shoved his hands into his pockets again and told Simon to keep going. But the guy did not give up.

“I see,” he crooned from afar. “Your dad didn't play ball with you and that's why you don't think you're capable of throwing it correctly. It’s fine.”

Simon put his hand to his mouth as if thinking "Oh, stars, he did not."

And Hugh looked at him as if thinking "Oh, but he did."

If that guy knew who he was talking to, he would probably think it twice before making comments to strangers mocking their lack of a father figure.

So he turned abruptly and threw the ball into the basket.

If Hugh had been a little calmer, he probably would have been able to remember that, before leaving the house, Tamaya had told him that theme parks were full of games that had the sole purpose of scamming people and that one of them was that game in particular. The balls bounced so much that even if they made contact with the bottom of the basket they would jump back to whoever threw it, making them technically lose.

He would also have listened to himself, to Hugh, who told him that it would be best to turn around and get on with their lives, and not to Captain Chromium, who was determined to win that freaking game because he won every single game the world put in his way. 

After three balls, the guy turned to Simon, extended his hand at him, and told him, “It's fifteen dollars.”

That was enough to make him lose his mind. Hugh told him that it was not worth arguing with him, but Captain Chromium did not tolerate that people tried to take advantage of him, and he spent about ten minutes screaming with the mustachioed man, until Simon panicked (or lost his mind), grabbed one of the balls and threw it right in the man’s eye.

Then, he did take Hugh by the hand.

But just to be sure they both got out of there before someone tried to stop them.

They ended the evening at a hamburger stand several blocks away from Cosmopolis Park (because obviously, they weren't going to stay there after the show they had put on). They did not have enough money to buy two sodas, but they bought a strawberry juice carton to share and sat on the sidewalk to eat their hamburgers of doubtful provenance, ranting against the man, against the park, and, especially, against those damn balls.

“I can't believe there are people like him breathing the same oxygen I breathe,” Simon commented, before taking a bite out of his burger ravenously. “He had no right to make that joke.”

But Hugh was so distracted by how attractive Simon looked when he bit his hamburger like that all he could say was:

“If my dad knew I couldn't win that stupid game, he would abandon me again.”

Simon frowned a little bit, repeating the sentence in his head until he finally understood the joke, and laughed so hard he began to choke with his food. Hugh started to panic and told Simon he would give him five back blows like he read he should do when someone started to choke. That was enough for Simon to spit his food on a napkin. Both were so grossed out by it, that they started laughing again. Simon hid his face on Hugh's shoulder, practically using his fit of laughter as an excuse to snuggle against him, and Hugh used his own angriness as an excuse to stay right there, telling the entire world to go to hell, and willing to keep doing it forever, just as long as the conversation didn't end and they had to go home. 

Georgia and Tamaya would kill them. It was already late at night. 

Fourth try

Year 17

It was already late night when they arrived at the motel.

Simon had stayed invisible the entire time they were at the reception like he always did when they had one of those more… private nights out. Hugh was the one who was in charge of booking the room because Simon got too anxious anyway at the mere idea of ​​having to interact with one of the receptionists.

It was one thing for his entire family (or the Council, as they had been calling themselves lately, as a joke) to know that tonight he was going to have sex. Strangers knowing it was a completely different thing.

He still wasn't quite sure which one was more embarrassing, but yeah. It was different.

He only became visible again when Hugh closed the door behind him.

Simon looked at the huge sports bag that Hugh carried with him. “What you got there?”

“Nothing important,” he assured with a shrug. He was smiling like he was a kid getting a bunch of presents at Christmas, and Simon was extremely happy too, so, without asking any more questions, he kissed him on the lips and went to the bathroom to give both of them time to get ready.

Not that they hadn't done that before. They didn't like having such intimate moments in the house. And even if they had wanted to, it was practically impossible to have even a minute of privacy there. The last time he had slept in a room by himself had probably been… never. And the number of occasions someone had opened the bathroom door while he was there were more than he could count. The door lock had been broken for a few weeks but nobody knew how to solve the problem because they had no idea how doors worked. Georgia had tried to implement a serious policy of knocking before entering any room with the door closed, but the only one who paid attention to her was Adrian because the rest of them were simply too used to walk around the house as if they were in their own houses. (That they were their house, but it was more Simon's house than theirs.)

In fact, it was the first time in forever that he was in a bathroom and he didn't have to put his hand on the door, to stop whoever tried to open the door before they ended up seeing him in the most vulnerable of positions, so Simon took off his T-shirt, his jeans, and sat on the toilet, wearing his underwear and his jacket, trying to enjoy his first moment of privacy in a long time.

At least until his legs started to feel cold and Hugh told him that he could go out now.

When he came out of the room, Hugh, who was lying on the bed, widened his eyes. Simon was already ready to hear a flattering comment, but instead, he frowned and asked, “Are you going to leave your socks on?”

Simon looked at his feet automatically. He had indeed left his socks on.

He didn't see anything wrong with it.

“The carpet is filthy,” he replied. “I don't want to get fungus or something like that.”

Hugh found no fault with his logic. “Okay, but take them off when you get on the bed,” he asked.

Then Simon realized that Hugh, not only never stopped doing that ridiculous pose that pretended to be sexy throughout the entire conversation, but he also had thrown out the (probably dirty) bedsheets from the motel bed and put instead one of the blankets they took out of the closet to cover themselves during winter.

So that's what he carried in his sports backpack.

Hugh seemed to realize that Simon was looking at the blanket and not at him, because he immediately said, “Oh, I hate motel bedsheets.”

Simon couldn't help but laugh. “You hate them?”

Hugh finally stopped doing that ridiculous pose and sat down. “You just never know who sleep in them before us, Simon,” he replied, “and you never know when was the last time they washed them. Maybe they— ” he pointed to the pile of blankets thrown away “—are covered on the… bodily fluids of twenty other people, and you want me to lie on them? Is that how you want us to make love? Like animals?”

Simon kept laughing, but Hugh wasn’t laughing. “Simon, stop it!” he exclaimed. “A new class of bacteria could be there, ‘cause— oh, I am convinced that those things have a new kind of bacteria no one has discovered yet, and— ”

And he went silent when Simon put his hands on his shoulders, still with a smile on his lips.

“What?”

“Hugh, have I ever told you I think you're really sexy when you out crazy me?” Simon asked, running his fingers through his hair.

Hugh stood still, looking directly into his eyes. “No, I think you haven’t.”

Simon shrugged. “Well— I think you're really, really, sexy when you out crazy me.”

“Well, I think… I think—“

Hugh could no longer continue his sentence. Even though Simon wasn't doing anything to stop him from speaking.

He was literally just standing in front of him, one knee leaning on the mattress and one hand on Hugh's head.

“You think?” he asked him. “That’s new.”

“Simon, wait, I'm trying to seduce you,” Hugh said.

Simon took a step back, pointing to the bathroom door. “I think I’d wait over there.”

“No, wait—” he gently grabbed his wrist before he could move further away “—I’m starting to… Let me think of something.”

Simon chuckled. He put his knee on the mattress again and Hugh grabbed him around his waist, pulling him close to him and resting his head on his chest, while Simon rested his chin on his head. He had just taken a bath when they came out of the house, so Hugh’s hair smelled of him and lemon zest because they have been using dish soap as shampoo the last week.

That was the kind of privacy that they sometimes lacked at home. He was no longer talking about sex. Simon craved to have him like this, so close to him. Both in their underwear, both in a practically unknown place, and both completely vulnerable, but together. Feeling at home, even if technically they weren't.

Because Hugh was his home.

He was sure he saw him that way too.

Simon was so focused on trying to capture that moment in his memory so that he could repeat it over and over again for the rest of his life, that he was totally thrown when Hugh blurted out:

“I think you have a nice dick, dude.”

Simon broke the hug ... “What?”

Hugh’s cheeks turned even redder. “Tell me I didn't say that.”

He put a hand up to try to hide his laughter. “No, I think you did.”

He still couldn’t believe that was Hugh’s best try to seduce him. And apparently, Hugh couldn't believe it either.

“Then— forget about it,” he stammered. “Let's all of us forget about it.”

Simon realized that he tried to grab him by the waist again, but he moved away just in time, pretending to be extremely offended. “So I don't have a nice dick.”

“Let's just stop saying the word dick, please.”

“You started it.”

“I PANICKED, ALL RIGHT?”

“PANICKING IS MY JOB!”

“I’M TAKING YOUR JOB THEN. AND I’M GONNA STEAL YOUR BOYFRIEND TOO IF YOU KEEP LAUGHING!”

Simon didn't try to pretend that he wasn't laughing, because he was more than aware that it was already too obvious at this point. 

So he decided it was better to play along.

“No, don't take my boyfriend!” he exclaimed dramatically, putting his hands on his shoulders. “Take me instead.”

Hugh took him by the waist and pulled him close. Simon didn't try to walk away this time. “Deal.”

But when Simon was about to start kissing him, he diverted his attention from Hugh for a split second, making him realize the curtains were wide open. “Oh, shoot, wait— the curtains.”

Luckily he hadn’t taken off his socks yet.

With quick steps, he headed to the window. He put a hand on each curtain and was about to close it completely when the lights of a car approaching from the end of the street caught his attention. It was a yellow sports car that looked more like a ripe banana than a vehicle.

Shit.

It stopped a few feet past the motel they were at. Out of it came a short man, with scars on his face and thin hair, and a tall blonde woman in a yellow dress, very inappropriate for the occasion. Not because it was provocative thought. It’s just that no one would wear such an expensive-looking dress in such a dangerous neighborhood unless they wanted to be robbed.

Or that they had enough status not to be.

Simon turned to see Hugh. “Hey—” Hugh looked up slightly. “—Come here.”

Hugh obeyed, a little bit confused, after putting his socks on (obviously). Simon had closed the curtains just enough for them not to be noticed but also not so much that they couldn’t see what was happening on the street.

Hugh gasped. “Are those—“

Simon swallowed hard. “Cyanide and Queen Bee in person.”

“What are they doing here?” 

Simon had as much an idea of ​​what Queen Bee and Cyanide were doing there as Hugh had, but he responded with the first thing that came to his mind anyway.

“Probably celebrating Valentine's Day,” he replied. “What a shitty place to take your girlfriend during Valentine’s Day though.”

At least take her to a motel. Like I did with Hugh.

“Do you think Queen Bee and Cyanide are together?” Hugh asked Simon.

Simon shrugged. “I don't know, but I know Queen Bee has a thing for Ace Anarchy.”

He had the slight hope that Hugh would take the bait and give him a chance to discuss his theories about Queen Bee's fixation with Ace Anarchy (which he always talked about with Tamaya), but Hugh, despite being very nosy, just kept quiet, watching Queen Bee and Cyanide argue outside the car.

How could that woman walk in such big heels?

“Or maybe Cyanide is the one who has a thing for Ace Anarchy,” Hugh blurted out suddenly.

Simon turned to see him. “Wait, really?”

“Don't be so heteronormative, Simon,” he scolded him. “Plus, I've never been in the cathedral, but I bet that when you enter there, it reeks homosexuality.”

“Dude—”

“I just know.”

And they kept watching. 

There was something very personal about seeing two people arguing from a distance, like old ladies peering out of their home windows whenever the neighbors had a particularly loud fight. Simon almost considered it romantic.

Then, Queen Bee tried to turn around to turn her back on Cyanide, but something went wrong with her heel and she went face first towards the sidewalk, letting out a scream that could make someone think she was being murdered, and causing Cyanide (and the two of them) to laugh out loud.

How could that woman walk with those heels? Well, apparently, she couldn't.

The tension he felt when Cyanide interrupted his laughter and turned around as if he knew someone was watching them, made him remember that they were not gossiping old ladies peeking out of the window of their house and that those two were not some neighbors having a little fight. No, they were Dread Warden and Captain Chromium, stuffed into a hotel room like they were fugitives from the law or something, and those two little people in the middle of the street were two of the most feared and powerful villains in the world.

There was nothing romantic about that.

So Simon immediately closed the curtains. 

But now neither of them was in the mood to have sex anymore, really.

“We should do something.”

“I'm on it.”

Hugh was already crouched slightly by the bedside, pulling his unmistakable superhero suits out of his sports bag.

Simon was so puzzled that he couldn't even stop to enjoy the… image that Hugh was inadvertently giving him by bending down like that.

“Wait, did you actually bring our supersuits to our date?” he asked him.

“Yeah,” he replied without looking up.

Who knows what kind of demon got into Simon at the time, but a not very family-friendly thought crossed his mind, and that thought was the one that made him ask, “Why?”

Hugh, completely unaware of what he was thinking, handed Simon his clothes and dropped the two pairs of boots on the floor as he sat in the bed. 

Only the stars knew how he had managed to fit a blanket, their shoes, and their suits in that sports backpack.

“Because I thought something like this was gonna happen,” he explained while putting on his leggings. “You know, crime doesn’t celebrate Valentine’s Day the same way we do.”

Oh.

The little not very family-friendly thought hadn't been right then.

Simon felt a bit sick admitting that he wasn't sure if he was relieved or disappointed.

“Oh. I thought...”

Hugh looked at him, intrigued, and a second later, he understood what Simon was thinking. “Oh, stars, no. I was not thinking about that.”

“All right then.”

Now it was Hugh's turn to watch him change. Simon knew that was what he was doing.

Because he knew his look better than he knew anyone else's.

When he was fully dressed, Simon reached out to reach for his shoes, and Hugh put his own hand over his', to get his attention.

He already had the mask on, but he could see that he had turned red. If Simon had been white too, he probably would be redder than him. 

He swallowed. “Unless— unless you're into it?”

Simon swallowed too. But he didn’t plan to answer him right now.

It had been hard enough to put on their suits. They didn’t need to start taking them off. 

So he pulled his hand away and started putting on his shoes.

“Hugh, the villains—” he reminded him.

“Right, right.” Hugh brushed off his knees. “The villains. That’s important.”

After making sure the door had the lock on (and that said lock worked), they turned off the lights, Simon turned invisible, and Hugh climbed onto the roof, pushing himself off the window frame as fast as possible so that Queen Bee and Cyanide, who were turning their backs on them, standing in front of the door of an apparently abandoned building as if waiting for someone, did not see him. Afterward, Simon followed him, assuring him that he could climb on his own.

The two remained hiding behind the building's water tank. Well, Hugh was behind the building's water tank, and Simon was in plain sight, invisible, with his hood on and his cape fluttering behind him, making him feel…

He wanted to say that it made him feel heroic, but the truth was that Simon also felt very sexy when he got into this mysterious and threatening mode. 

Simon turned his hand visible and pointed at them as if to say "Are we going or what?"

Hugh turned to see them with a frown, analyzing the situation. But when Simon was about to ask him what they were waiting for, Hugh turned to see him, with the same smile he had on his face when he was about to let the world know the coolest plan of all the plans, completely ignorant that in reality, it was the dumbest thing he had ever came up with.

“Wait, I have an idea.”

And in that situation, Simon had to take the role of being the one to tell him that his idea was bullshit and that it wasn't going to work, but he used to listen to his idea before expressing his comments about it. Not only because he didn't like talking without knowing all the facts first, but because may he could go to Tamaya the next day and tell her what had happened in the last episode of Hugh Had an Idea And It Went Wrong.

(They also enjoy episodes of Evander Acted Like An Animal Again and Queen, Realize That Junkie Doesn’t Care About You, Please.)

“Do you remember that song Evander used to sing to us?” he asked him.

Oh, Simon remembered it and cringed every time he thought about it.

But the cringe wasn't enough to stop him from singing the song.

“The Warden and the Captain are sitting in a tree—”

Hugh cringed too. “That one, yes. Stars, I hate it so much—” and he pointed to Queen Bee and Cyanide “—Let's make them hate it too. ”

Simon seriously tried to take his role as the voice of reason in that situation. He let his imagination (or rather, his anxiety) run wild, making him imagine the thousand and one scenarios in which that specific fight could turn out worse than they usually did if Hugh made that comment. Queen Bee would probably call Hugh a "lesbian" (“You have a lesbian haircut, honeybun, accept it”), Cyanide would go crazy trying to find Dread Warden to melt his skin slowly and painfully, everyone would wish death upon everyone, and the only reason the fight would end would be because either Cyanide would finally manage to injure Simon or because Queen Bee’s stilettos would break.

He didn't see how teasing them with an attack worthy of elementary school kids would make the situation worst.

Besides… it was going to be hilarious to see that.

He didn't see why he couldn't co-star in Hugh Had Idea and It Went Wrong.

“I'm in,” he replied, trying not to raise his voice too much. “I'm super in.”

Hugh rose his hand and Simon high-fived him quietly. But Hugh seized the opportunity to take his hand, running his finger across his knuckles. “Okay, but you sing the spelling part, because—”

“You don't know how to spell,” Simon interrupted.

Hugh let go of his hand. “Well, when you said it in that tone, it sounds a little mean.”

Simon rolled his eyes and took his hand again. Then the logical part of his brain (yes, the same one that always insisted on being the voice of reason in situations like that) began to yell at him that he should convince Hugh to let Cyanide and Queen Bee did whatever they wanted, while the two of them did whatever they wanted.

But that the logical part of him had no voice in that situation because the logical part of his brain was not the part that loved Hugh. After all, there was nothing logical in loving the way he made a kind of mini-horn with both hands, took a deep breath, and yelled with all his might:

 “CYANIDE AND THE QUEEN BEE SITTING IN A TREE—”

Fifth try

Year 20

K-i-s-s-i-n-g.

That was what he wanted to be doing. He wanted to be kissing Simon. He wanted to be with him, walking in the park and watching life go by in front of them. The birds singing from the trees, the children chasing each other, and the wind ruffling their hair. The day was going to be so perfect that he was going to be able to ignore homeless people getting high on corners or young people dealing drugs (that should be) illegal, focusing all his attention on Simon and how happy he felt that this time, everything he was going well.

He didn't want to be crammed into the living room with the rest of his family, listening to the thunder and the rain crashing down on the ceiling.

But apparently, that's what he was doing.

Tamaya was sitting on the floor, covering herself with her wings. Simon had sat on the other end of the three-seater couch, looking out the living room window with a thoughtful expression, worthy of a character in a Shakespearean play or something. Evander was leaning over him and had Kasumi on his lap. She was watching him play (or rather trying to play) a Tetris game that he had on his phone, putting her icy feet on Hugh's arm, probably without realizing it, and Hugh was on the other end of the couch, first starting at Simon, thinking of how handsome he looked when he was thinking, and then at Georgie. She had been smart enough to sit on the reclining sofa, which gave her the space she needed to cuddle with an inconsolable six-year-old Adrian.

“The storm will end soon,” she was telling him. “The storm will end soon.”

But that was not enough to comfort Adrian. His mother had already been telling him for about an hour that “the storm will end soon”, but the storm just ... did not end. And each time they heard a new thunder, Adrian let out a howl and clung to his mother with more force, asking her to please not go away.

Everyone knew that when Adrian asked Georgie not to go away, he was actually asking everyone not to go away. If any of them left the room, he would probably lose his mind.

He felt the urge to tell him that she wasn't going anywhere. That wasn’t very Georgie. Georgie didn't leave people who needed her like that, scared, crying, and begging her to stay. So since Georgie didn't do it, neither did the others.

It is not like they could have gone anywhere though.

Georgie realized that Simon hadn't stopped staring out the window.

“I'm sorry you couldn't do anything special this Valentine’s Day,” she whispered. Simon blinked as if he were waking up from a dream. “What did you have planned for this evening?”

Simon turned to see him, disappointed. Hugh decided to answer for him.

“We were going to have a picnic at the park,” he replied.

Georgie blurted out something that sounded like “Awww”, and Evander scoffed.

“That’s gay.” Hugh put his arm behind Kasumi and smacked Evander on the back of his head. “BRO, YOU LITERALLY MADE LOSE ME.”

Tamaya laughed and Kasumi shook her head. “I want to play too—” she tried to take the cellphone and Evander pressed it closer to his chest “—Vandy.”

Georgie intervened (without letting go of Adrian). “Vandy, give Kasumi the phone. It’s her turn. And then it's mine.”

But Evander didn’t want to. 

“But it only has ten percent of battery left,” he exclaimed.

“Perfect, it's more than enough for Tamaya, Kasumi, Simon, Hugh, and I to get a turn too.”

“Hugh punched me! He does not deserves a turn.”

“I didn't punch him,” Hugh said. “I just hit him very slightly.”

“My brain almost felt out of my head.”

“Do you still have a brain?” Tamaya asked. Hugh high-fived her. “I've been thinking about that joke for weeks, dude.”

“Evander Wade, share the phone,” Georgia said. “I'm no longer asking.”

“No! It's my phone.”

Desperate, Tamaya reached out to take Evander's cell phone, and he stood up so fast that Kasumi ended up falling on Tamaya.

“MOTHERFU—”

A thunder. Again.

Adrian started crying. Again.

And they all went silent. Again.

Hugh took advantage of the fact that Evander got out of the coach to move closer to Simon. Evander didn't say anything to him because he was too busy handing the cell phone to Tamaya, who then gave it to Kasumi. Kasumi refused to sit down with Evander again and stayed on the floor with Tamaya (although resting her head on his knees, as if they were a pillow).

Simon rested his head on Hugh's shoulder.

“Next year will be better,” he whispered in his ear. Simon didn't answer him; he only put his hand on the window, leaving the trace of his fingers on it. “Are you all right?”

Simon put his hand on Hugh’s waist and pulled him closer to him, closing his eyes for a while. “I'm tired…”

“Rest then.”

After all…

Hugh was tried too. 

There had never been a day when they didn't have to face a new threat. It seemed that the Anarchists, instead of getting weaker, were getting stronger. Even with the many new allies the Renegades had, no one seemed to have a second of the day to rest. Adrian got more and more nervous when they went out as days passed by, and it was becoming more difficult to calm down him during his tantrums. Even he, who was a child, could feel the tension in the city.

But precisely because of that, because he was a child, he could not understand the enormous responsibility that the Renegades had on his shoulders and that they could not stay with him, no matter how much they wanted to.

Maybe that was why no one had tried to leave the room. It was their way of telling Adrian that they were still there for him.

He was about to fall asleep when Simon pulled him away. His first instinct was to pull him closer, but as soon as he realized that Simon was just standing up, he let go of him.

Suddenly, he looked happier. Much happier than anyone else in that room.

Everyone noticed that change.

“Are you still too tired to celebrate Valentine’s Day?”

Even Hugh didn't understand what he meant.

Evander turned to see Georgie. “Georgie, you told them no hanky-panky in the house.”

“Vandy—” Kasumi intervened.

“Zoomie.”

“Don't say hanky-panky.”

“Yeah, you sound like a grandma,” Tamaya told him slightly punching him on the leg.

Hugh shushed them. “Shhh, guys, let Si talk.”

“No, go on, guys—” Simon told them “—Let us show you.”

And he held out his hand.

Obviously, Hugh accepted it.

He had no idea what Simon was planning to do, but he wasn't too tired not to celebrate Valentine's.

He was never too tired of him.

Adrian immediately reacted to this. “Hey, no, don't go...” he cried, stretching his little arms towards them.

Luckily, Simon looked like he already had that covered.

“We're not going anywhere, Adrian,” Simon assured him. “You are coming with us.”

Adrian and Georgie's eyes widened at the same time. 

“Me?” Adrian asked pointing to himself.

“You,” Simon replied, confidently. “But it's a very special mission,” he added in a lower voice, putting a hand on his shoulder. “You can't tell anyone.”

Adrian rubbed his eyes and Georgie looked up at the ceiling as if she were making sure a new leak hadn't magically appeared. Tamaya, on the contrary, didn't understand, and she stared at the scene, very intrigued by Simon's plan too. Luckily, Georgie noticed it, and with a frantic movement of her hand, told her to stop staring. Hugh made the same move, but this time, directed at Kasumi and Evander.

When Adrian opened his eyes again, everyone but the two of them was pretending they weren't listening to the conversation.

“What mission is it?” Adrian asked in a thin voice.

“Look, we can't go out to celebrate Valentine's Day,” Simon explained, “but what we can do is bring Valentine's Day here with us.”

Adrian looked puzzled.

“Hey, but you're going to need a superhero name to be able to participate in the mission,” Hugh commented, trying to get Adrian more interested. “Do you have any ideas?”

Simon scratched his beard, thinking. “Hmm, very good question, my dear Captain,” he commented. “Maybe—”

“Oh, I know what superhero name I'll have,” Adrian exclaimed, grabbing Simon by the cheeks. “Hey, your beard feels funny.”

Simon grabbed him by the cheeks too. “What’s your superhero name, then?”

Adrian whispered it in his ear and Simon's face lit up. “It's a perfect name, Adrian.”

Adrian shushed him. “Shh, don't say my real name! I have to use my superhero name, remember? It's a mission.”

Evander scoffed again and Kasumi shushed him immediately. 

“And can he tell me your superhero name?” Hugh asked Adrian. 

Adrian stopped to think about it. “Yes, why not?” he finally replied.

Then, Simon stood slightly on tiptoe to reach him and whispered in his ear the most perfect superhero name he had ever heard.

Sketch.

Hugh took Adrian by surprise when he graved him and carried him in his arms, making him gasp in shock and excitement. Even Georgie started to laugh out loud at her son's reaction.

“Ready for the mission, Sketch?” he asked him making his voice lower than it actually was.

Adrian gave a military salute. “I was born ready, Captain!” he exclaimed, moving his feet in the air.

Georgie stood up too. “Where you taking my son, guys?” she asked dramatically.

Hugh placed Adrian on his shoulders.

“Don’t worry, mom,” Adrian told her, “I’ll be fine. I need to accomplish this mission.”

Georgie pretended to start sobbing. “No, but you don't have to, son of mine, you're too young!”

“Listen to your mother, kid,” Tamaya intervened. “Stay with us, stay safe with your family—“ and she passed her wings over Kasumi's shoulders.

“Tamaya has two wings,” Kasumi pointed out. “And they're warm.”

“Really?” Evander asked.

But Tamaya’s face changed immediately. “It's not for you, it's for Adrian.”

“GO WITH THEM, LITTLE SKETCH, GO!” Evander yelled standing up on the sofa. “GO SAVE VALENTINE’S DAY!”

That was enough for Adrian. He kissed his mother on the cheek and told her that he would be back soon. Then the three of them began their journey to the kitchen while the others stayed in the living room.

Simon pulled out a bag of bread from the refrigerator and asked Hugh to pass him the peanut and hazelnut butter jars from the cupboard. Adrian took it upon himself to count the remaining loaves of bread and separate them into pairs, spreading them on the table. Simon encouraged him to count how many pairs there were and Hugh had no problem helping him when he got stuck at number five. Then Simon toasted them on the stove, and he allowed Adrian to pile them up like a tower on a red ceramic plate.

When it was time to make the sandwiches, Simon and Hugh sat at different ends of the table, each holding a butter knife. Simon would spread peanut butter on one of the loaves, Hugh would spread hazelnut on the other, and Adrian would gather them together and wrap them the best he could in a napkin, before putting them in a makeshift basket that Kasumi had made long ago.

“Mommy, no!” yelled Adrian when Georgie dared to enter the kitchen. “It's a secret mission!”

“Don’t worry, don’t mind me,” she told them pretending not to notice what they were doing. “I'm just gonna prepare myself some strawberry milk.”

As soon as Adrian looked away, Georgie winked at Hugh. And Hugh winked back.

“I think we're done with this mission now,” he replied using that ridiculously deep voice again. “You have to break the news to the rest of the team, Sketch.”

Adrian jumped out of his chair and practically ran into the living room, holding the basket with sandwiches in his hand.

The three of them had been so into their mission, they didn't realize that the others had put several blankets on the floor and Tamaya was cursing under her breath for being unable to use a lighter to turn on the candles. Kasumi approached Adrian, with a VHS in each of her hands, asking him which movie he would like to see, and Evander came over too, but to try and tell Adrian to pick the action movie, not the romance movie the girls wanted to see.

Simon seemed like he wanted to join the conversation too, but Hugh thought he had done enough. And he meant it in a good way. So he took him by the hand and they lied down on the couch, not caring that perhaps one of the others wanted to sit on it.

Adrian had already chosen the movie (he chose the period drama over the action movie, thankfully) when Georgie walked into the living room with a stack of plastic cups under her arm and a jug half full of strawberry milk, carrying it as it were a trophy. During her birthday, everyone in the house had raised money to buy her a huge pot of strawberry milk powder, which they made her promise that she would not share.

Some promises could not be kept.

The adults got two sandwiches each, but Adrian had practically all of the strawberry milk. Throughout the movie, Kasumi was sighing and muttering how much she wanted to wear a dress like the one the main character wore in the movie during that elegant dinner. From to time, Tamaya frowned and muttered something about how problematic she found a line or scene. Georgie braided their hair and when she finished, she would undo the braid and start over, laughing out loud at Evander's comments about how horrible the romantic interest looked and that he did not understand how that was the ideal of beauty that women had. Adrian fell asleep in Simon's arms about halfway through, and about that exact time, Hugh began to notice that Simon was starting to have a hard time trying to stay awake.

He looked adorable when he was thinking, but he liked it even more how he looked when he was falling asleep.

He kissed the back of his head. “Are you tired?”

He nodded slightly. “Yes… but never of you.”

Hugh kissed him again. “I was thinking the same thing.”

“What thing?”

Georgie turned around for a second and realized that Adrian had fallen asleep. She stopped braiding Evander’s short hair (for some reason, Evander had let her braid his hair) and sat on the recliner chair, hugging Adrian like a stuffed animal.

She winked at him once more. And Hugh winked back, one more time.

“Nothing— ” he laid himself more comfortably on the couch and allowed Simon to get on top of him, resting his head on his chest. “—Sleep for a while.”

Simon made no further objection. “You too.”

Hugh did not fall asleep. In fact, he stayed awake for the three hours the movie lasted, even though by the time the credits started, Tamaya was snoring and Kasumi and Evander were under her wings, rolled up, and cuddled up to her. Georgie ended up falling asleep on the couch, covered in the same blanket Simon used to cover himself a few hours ago.

When the clock told him it was 7 PM, Hugh knew it was time for them to go patrol. However, the rain had gotten even worse, and Simon...

Simon looked so peaceful.

He hadn't realized how deep the bags under his eyes had gotten, nor that his face hadn't looked as relaxed as it looked right now for weeks, because he frowned most of the time. He hadn't held him that close either or had the opportunity to give him as many kisses as he had been doing in that time. Not because he didn't want to, it was just ... well, they had been busy trying not to die.

How tiring it was to try not to die.

He knew Simon was tired because, again, he was tired too, and he bet that the rest of their family felt the same as them. But Simon was the only one who had overcome his tiredness and his moodiness to just... make them forget their sorrows for a moment. 

He was like that.

Hugh gave him one more kiss on the cheek.

Thank you. 

If Simon had been awake, he would have asked him "Thanks for what?"

And Hugh would have answered him, "For just being you."

Someday they would get their happy ending. But for the moment, all he wanted was to be crammed into the living room with the rest of his family, listening to the thunder and the rain crashing down on the ceiling.

He doubted that happiness would ever end.

Sixth (but not last) try

Two years after the Day of Triumph.

Just over a year ago, Simon had been on the roof of the same building he was currently in. Of course, it looked very different from how it looked now. It didn’t have any windows, no furniture, and, obviously, no electricity. It was the vile shell of what had once been one of the most beautiful skyscrapers in the city. Simon was thinking about that when he realized that he did not have a single memory of having seen that place when it was in its maximum splendor and that the only proof he had of it was the stories of those adults who arrived before him.

That sooner or later, he would become one of those adults. Those who told stories of the past to the generations that came after them.

He thought of Adrian. He thought that there would come a time when he would be curious to know certain things that happened and would ask questions that Simon would not be too sure how to answer. Not precisely because he didn't want to or because he thought he wasn't ready to hear the truth; he just didn’t know those truths at all. 

Why did people change for the worst? How did the world use to be when prodigies weren’t divided by heroes or villains?

What happened to Lady Indomitable?

How did the world use to be before she was gone?

Then Simon, with tears in his eyes, looked up at the crescent moon and the six stars lined up in such a way that they seemed to form a smile. He hadn’t seen anyone in his family smile for… a very long time. 

Because when Georgia Rawles left, she took with her their capacity to smile. 

Yet, at that moment, Simon could feel her. He could feel her when he was crying, asking her to please fly again and to help him get down from that skyscraper. He felt her hugging him, keeping him from falling to his knees and cutting his skin with the shattered glass that was on the floor. She promised him that she would never give up on him and assured him that every time he saw the sky, he would find those six stars forming that smile, which from that moment on, would be hers. 

Simon didn't want her to make promises, but… it was Georgie. His Georgie. The Georgie who made pinky promises even though she was about to turn thirty because you were never too old for pinky promises. The Georgie who always protected him and never gave up on him, even though there were times when Simon thought she should.

So since she was his Georgie, Simon accepted the promise. As she turned around and rose again to the sky, he wondered what would happen when the city was so full of light, that the stars (Georgie’s smile) faded away and everyone, including them, forgot about them (about her). 

But, after all this time, Simon was looking at the stars, on the roof of that same skyscraper that had now been turned into a fancy restaurant, holding Hugh's hand across the table, and noticing that Georgie was still smiling at him from above.

As it always should be.

“Did you ever expect things to turn out like this when you were little?”

He turned to see Hugh again. “What things?”

But Hugh kept staring at the stars. Simon didn't care. He liked to think that the sparkle in his blue eyes was due to them. “Us.”

Simon shook his head, “No,” he answered when he remembered Hugh couldn’t look at him. “Did you?”

Finally, Hugh saw him again. “I think that when I was little, I didn’t know one could be as happy as I am with you right now.”

Simon rolled his eyes. 

“I'm serious,” Hugh insisted, taking him just a little tighter by the hand. “I'm so glad we finally made it out.”

Simon leaned forward slightly. “We really did, huh?”

Then, Hugh gently pulled him closer to him, making their foreheads bump and closing his eyes. “And I'm so glad that now, nothing bad is gonna happen to you, to us, and to what we have.”

Simon closed his eyes too. He would have liked to promise Hugh that it would be like that. That this new chapter of their lives, the chapter of getting married, having kids, and rebuilding a city together, was would turn out as well as the last one, when they fought crime, defeated the bad guys, and held hands only when they were not wearing the armors that protected them from the outside world. 

But he could not promise that. And anyways, Hugh was not very fond of promises. He said they were very easy to break.

So he grabbed his chin and gave him a quick kiss on the lips before saying, “It's getting late. We should ask for the check.”

Hugh nodded and called a waiter. He noticed that Simon was reaching into his pocket and quickly told him not to do it, that he got it. Simon knew there was nothing he could do to make him change his mind, so he instead just asked if he could get a slice of chocolate cake to go. Adrian would love to have chocolate cake for breakfast.  

The waiter returned a few moments later with the bill (and Adrian’s chocolate cake). Simon almost winced when he saw the amount of money they had spent on a meal that hadn’t been that good in the first place (although he did not know if it was because of the lack of ingredients or because gourmet food kind of sucked). However, Hugh didn't seem at all concerned and reached into his pockets to get his wallet.

Suddenly, he leaned his elbows on the table. “Simon.” 

Simon leaned his elbows on the table too. “Yes?”

“Have I mentioned you look very handsome tonight?”

He tried to remember. “No,” he replied. “But thank you for noticing. I even took a shower.”

“Wow,” Hugh exclaimed with too much enthusiasm. “Feeling fancy today.”

“I do feel fancy today,” Simon replied, adjusting the jacket he had put on over his pink button-up shirt at the last moment because Hugh had told him that the restaurant had a pretty rigid dress code.

Simon almost didn’t put on the jacket out of pure spite. In fact, he spent all the way ranting about how it was stupid to have such a specific dress code in a place like Gatlon City, and that he bet that the owners of that restaurant, who now were acting like total snobs, had spent most of their lives wearing only a t-shirt and old jeans, like the rest of them.

Hugh, who had been wearing the jacket from the beginning (a blue one), was quiet, listening carefully to what Simon was saying until he blurted out:

“We can do something else if you want to.”

He didn't say it in an “I’m hurt by your comment” tone. Instead, he said it the same way he would tell him that they could watch another movie or that they could get take out instead of cooking dinner. He said it as if the reservation he made was not at stake, or as if he hadn’t been sending him hints of wanting to go to that specific restaurant since New Year.

Simon knew that if he had said yes, Hugh would have taken him wherever he wanted. However, Simon also knew that it didn't matter where they went. They had spent Valentine's in an alley, at a fair, fighting villains, and in a house too small for seven people. And in all those places, he had a great time.

Surely that place was… snobbish, but he could have a great time there too.

After all, they were together. 

He was sure Hugh knew that too. 

Hugh nodded, agreeing with him. He hardly ever agreed with someone other than himself anymore.

“Is this your strange way of making me say you look good too?” he asked him then.

And Hugh’s smile grew bigger. “Simon Westwood, you are the love of my life,” he replied taking his hand, “and this is my strange way of telling you I forgot my wallet at home.”

Simon laughed so loudly that the other customers turned to see him. But he couldn't care less. He kind of wanted them to saw them. He wanted them to notice how much he was laughing and he wanted them to see him kiss Hugh as he reached for his pockets…

Oh, no.

“Hugh.”

He tensed. “Yes, dear husband of mine who’s going to pay for this dinner?”

“You look good too.”

That was enough for Hugh to realize that Simon had also left his wallet at the house.

The two remained serious for a long time. But then, Simon could see how Hugh's brain clicked in a very strange way, which made him see this whole situation as the funniest thing that had ever happen to him.

He kissed him once more.

They always managed to ruin their Valentine's Days one way or another, but it didn't matter. Because there was no way they could ruin what the two of them had.

Boy, he would like to see someone try.

[wellamarke]

Alright. This is going to be shorter than I planned because I keep tying myself in knots over the very first shot, but I'm going to skip straight to my main point about the Dashing White Sergeant, which is this:

Nobody gets to dance with the person opposite them in the circle.

That is not how the dance works. In DWS, you dance with two people: the ones either side of you, in your row of 3. Yes, to be fair, you join hands and walk back and forth to meet your opposite person, but that person never gets your hand. So, how, pray, do we get this:

AND this:

Well, it's because, in what is arguably his boldest move since 'carrots', Gilbert breaks the set and spins Anne over to his side:

When what they're supposed to have done is this:

ie. Diana, Gilbert and Jane should have performed a straight swap with Caleb, Anne and Charlie. That twirl? Does not exist in the Dashing White Sergeant.

This absolute... opportunist, sees his moment and risks throwing the whole dance just to get to hold Anne's hand. I'm so proud.

The first time they come into the centre he's all smirky, because yes, being face-to-face is fun and an excellent twist on their usual head-to-head. But that's not enough, he wants to dance with her. He's going to get his hand-hold after 3 years of waiting for it, damn it all.

(I know, I know, I'm coming late even to the Netflix release and I've missed the intense week-long dissection of the scene by literal months, so obviously all this has been said. But it's NEW TO ME and I haven't seen the text posts so I'm going to still talk about it).

There is so much metaphorical resonance here.

The two positions (beside and opposite) are supposed to be irreconcilable in the dance. Anne and Gilbert are two people who so often oppose each other but, when it comes to things that really matter, they are on the same side. Likewise, the parts of the dance they spend opposite each other are fleeting, and for the main section, they are on the same side.

Both Anne and Gilbert are the center dancers of their row (the center is the only person who dances throughout - all 4 corner dancers wait out certain bars). This mirrors how both of them have their own storylines, concerns, goals etc in the show. But when Gilbert breaks the set, positioning Anne as to his choosing, he doesn't make her a corner dancer. Instead, she becomes the center dancer of his line. What an interesting fact about the axis on which Planet Gilbert spins.

Even when they're part of the same row, things aren't straightforward: there's a third person involved. In real life it's Winnie; in the dance it's Charlie. Gilbert watches Anne with Charlie and has to wait out the bar. Anne will have to do the same with Winnie.

At the end of the dance - literally in the last few bars - he returns Anne to her original position. In practical terms, this means Mrs Lynde doesn't have anything to complain about, as there's no evidence by the end that the set was ever broken. In sneaky terms, it means he gets to finish the dance face-to-face making eyes with Anne, and not Jane or Diana. In heartbreaking terms, it foreshadows how (at least for now) the discoveries made during the dance aren't going to change their relationship, as everything goes 'back to normal' on the outside. In romantic terms, it could be seen as Gilbert saying: "I want you by my side, but in the end, I'll put you before myself" (in the sense that 'before' can also mean 'in front of').

Breaking the set ought to have thrown everything off - if nobody else moves, Gilbert has put Anne next to Diana, so the boy-girl-boy-girl pattern is lost. The fact that the dance is able to continue means that others have moved to compensate. Crucially, one of them is Diana, who is best placed to perform damage control as it's her spot Anne's moved into -– foreshadowing her manoeuvring the situation on the train and saving the day! But it's not just Diana: everyone in the set will have noticed the shift – mirroring how the whole of Avonlea are basically aware of how these two feel about each other before they are.

Or, in more mathematical terms, the other 4 people in the set, shifting to make way for Shirbert, represent the 4 people with the most to say about Shirbert: Jane plays Winnie (telling Anne she isn't engaged to Gilbert; this parallel works weirdly well since Jane and Gilbert are seen dancing together, and Jane's traditional values mirror Winnie's 'expectations') Diana plays herself (being the person best placed to call Gilbert out the train journey, and being the person best placed to compensate in the dance itself, since Anne's in her spot. Damn, she even does the callout opposite him in a train carriage, a position usually held by Anne). Charlie plays Cole (telling Anne about Gilbert's crush; interesting, then, that Charlie's got a crush on Anne) and Caleb Lynde plays Bash (knowing about Shirbert before so much as meeting Anne; and would you LOOK at that, I was about to say I can't find a link between Caleb and Bash, but the link is MISS STACY!)

Most dancers look in the direction they are skipping in for the circle part of the dance: Gilbert and Anne look dead across at each other before the swap, and then after the swap:

...yeah, they're looking at each other the whole time, even for the direction change - which means that one of them is always skipping 'backwards' (sideways, but against the direction they're facing, led by the other). If that ain't a metaphor for trust, I don't know what is. Also, they will each be the backwards-facer for the same amount of steps, and if that ain't a metaphor for compromise... you get what I'm saying.

I will probably think of a few more resonances after posting this, and yes, I know that I'm reaching on some of it, but even without all that symbolism, you HAVE to hand it to Gilbert. As far as he knows this might be the only time he'll ever get to dance with Anne, so he's going to make the most of EVERY SECOND, and dance more with her in that one rehearsal than any other couple in the room have managed in two.

Something else I like, as well, is that he knows the format of the dance from watching the initial demonstration - so he COULD have tried the spin in the first run-through. But he doesn't do it until he gets the vibe from their first face-to-face that Anne, maybe... isn't opposed to dancing with him. (Also, he waits 'til he's invalided Moody out of the running, freeing his buddy up to give them some nice twinkly backing music... Gosh, Gilbert, how far back does your web of cunning go?!)

Just as a parting shot, I'll point out that Miss Stacy is the one who pushes Gilbert (nonsensically) to the other side of the room, where Anne ends up. I say nonsensically because at the beginning they're standing like this:

with Gilbert being the ONLY boy on the right hand side of the room, so no way should he be moving across. What actually needs to happen is that two boys from the left should go to join him. Gilbert should have stayed put. But no, Miss Stacy wants him over there:

She ships it, y'all.

Gilbert then stands for a bit in the middle of the room, foreshadowing his indecision/being torn between two options later on:

Look at him, stroking his chin, all confused! Thankfully, Mrs Lynde is there to park him firmly on the left side of the room, ensuring proximity to Anne. Thanks, Rachel. Thanks, Ms Stacy.

And most of all, thanks to whoever choreographed this scene! It took me so long to get a comprehensive look at Gilbert's actions because I kept getting distracted by everything else that's going on: Ruby, Tillie and Jane are all wonderful too, and let's not forget Moody and Charlie partnering each other just before Mrs Lynde yells 'stop'. Wonderful. Perfect scene is perfect.

[amandaoftherosemire]

A Sexy Stranger

Fandom: Marvel/MCU AU

Pairing: Bucky Barnes X Reader

Characters: Bucky Barnes

Author: @amandarosemire

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 8,539

Format: One-Shot

Warnings: Smut, 18+ only, language, mild angst, stalking, fluff.

Summary: Alone in a club after losing your friends and needing a place to hide from a creepy stalker, you enlist the help of a sexy stranger.

A/N: Hey! Remember when we could go to clubs? I always think I want to go to a club until I’m there and then I want to be home in my pajamas. However, I think that feeling would take at least fifteen minutes to set in right now. I am an agoraphobic introverted misanthrope but even I miss people so much by this point. In that spirit, enjoy this fantasy of being in a room with a bunch of other people without worrying about the fact that you’re all breathing the same air.

A Sexy Stranger

Heading towards panicked, you scanned the crowd in the lower level of the club, looking for your friends. You had been trying with all your might to have fun, but you hadn't even wanted to come out to a club tonight. You'd been overruled because your best friend had wanted to dance, and her work friends were going clubbing. She'd refused to take no for an answer when you'd tried to stay home alone; she wanted to introduce you to some guy from work, so here you were.

And yet, when you'd gotten separated on the dance floor, it seemed like she'd disappeared on you. Then you'd caught a glimpse of what looked like Bill, the last person you wanted to see, and you'd bolted, desperate to find her and her friends. Standing near the stairs as the bass pounded through the floor overhead, you frantically scanned the scattered couches and chairs of the lower floor, looking for someone you recognized.

When you spotted the very person you were trying to escape on the other side of the crowd, you let out a squeak that shamed you and covered your face as you started desperately looking for a way out of this nightmare. It hadn't merely looked like your stalker, it was your stalker, and based on the way he was also searching the crowd, he knew you were here. If only you could find a place to hide.

Then you saw him: tall, dark, and dangerous. Gorgeous in blue denim, black cotton, and leather, he had a drink in his hand and boredom on his face. More importantly, he was standing directly in front of an alcove that you would fit in, hidden behind him.

Normally you'd never have the nerve to walk up to a man who looked like this one did, but you saw no other option if you were going to avoid Bill. The sexy stranger had a face, a body that looked sculpted by the devil to provoke lust and inspire sin, tall and broad and muscled, with dark hair short on the sides but thick and long on top. To top it off, he had the kind of bone structure a master sculptor would immortalize in marble. Still, you'd do almost anything to avoid Bill and Mr. Smolderingly Sexy was where you needed to be.

With a bright smile, you locked eyes with the man as you bobbed and weaved your way over to him. A raised eyebrow and the beginning of a half-smile made him look even more dangerous, and yet more approachable. Once you were close enough, you grabbed his arm with a sultry laugh.

"Yes!" Bright and cheerful, you pulled him around as you slid into the alcove, his height and width perfectly concealing you from the rest of the room. He didn't put up a fight, but the raised eyebrow had become a frown of confusion as you grinned cheerfully, trying to charm. "You, sir, are perfect."

A smirk lifted the corner of a mouth so pretty pink and plump you could get fixated on it and sent a shudder of lust through you. His voice was low and warm and seemed to shiver into your ear as he leaned forward and spoke into it to be heard over the crowd and the music pounding from the floor above. "So I've been told."

A little shocked by your instant attraction, you huffed out a laugh. "Ha, I bet,” you retorted playfully, to his obvious enjoyment. You put on every ounce of charm you possessed and aimed to tempt. "Look, I need to hide and you're the perfect height. If you keep me hidden from my gross stalker, I will buy your drinks all night." You held out your hand, fingers and thumb curled together, pinky up. "Pinky swear."

Bucky looked you over, sexy in club wear, adorable with your pinky in the air and mischief in your eyes. He was astonished, but utterly delighted to find that his night had all of a sudden taken such a hard-left turn into interesting. He couldn't put his finger on it, didn't figure it mattered anyway, but something about the curve of your smile, the brightness in your eyes, the temptation in your voice had him not just interested, but riveted. He'd been trying and failing to come up with an excuse that Sam would accept for why he should leave before meeting whomever Maria was trying to throw at him, but then you'd come out of nowhere to dazzle him.

"Like I need to be bribed to help a pretty girl." He reached out, wrapped his pinky around yours, charmed both by your smile and the innocent gesture. He smiled back and moved to flirt. "But I'll take you up on it to keep you close all night."

When your eyes lit up, Bucky felt a hard tug of lust, thinking you not just pretty, but stunning when you genuinely smiled. "Thank you!" You'd be more flustered by the flirting, but the relief that the guy you'd hidden behind was going to help was too huge. Bill was really starting to creep you out. "Both for the save and the compliment. I'm Y/N, by the way." You winked as you squeezed your pinky around his and shook his hand once before letting go.

“Bucky. Nice to meet ya.” The smile he gave you was slow, wicked, and sent a palpable shudder of excitement through you. He lifted his head to give the room what appeared to be a casual scan, but his eyes were narrowed and focused in a way that made you think he might be as dangerous as he looked. “Who should I be on the lookout for, gorgeous?”

His bright blue eyes came back to your face, warm in the low golden light of the bar's basement, and the sheer beauty of the man seemed to blow through you, stealing your breath. He looked not only ready and willing to ride to the rescue, but eager to help. You couldn't quite put your finger on it, but something about this stranger made you feel reckless. You could see he was dangerous, but your gut was saying you were safe with him.

"Guy about your height but nowhere near your width." Your grin flashed appreciatively and you wiggled your eyebrows as you eyed his shoulders and made him laugh. "Dirty blond, weak chin."

Bucky was having a blast, thoroughly enjoying your sassy way of flirting. He was starting to understand how someone could get fixated on you. Hell, he could see himself making a fool of himself over you; he'd always been attracted to the bold and bright.

He lifted his head briefly and took another scan, determined to keep you to himself as long as you'd let him, when he caught sight of a man exactly as you described searching the room as he moved through it. "Is that him to your right?"

You glanced over and blanched. "Fuckfuckfuck."

At the sight of your genuine anxiety, Bucky went into protector mode. It had all been fun and games until he saw that you weren't just worried you'd be found, but scared. He hated to see your eyes go dim, decided on the spot to do whatever it took to chase the fear away and bring back the light that had so quickly captivated him.

Drawing on his skills as an operative, he eased to his left, putting his forearm on the wall over your head to use his body to shield you from view. As he moved, he spoke to reassure. "I’m gonna crowd you a bit on this side, get you a little better hidden."

That did it; you were a goner. He was moving so carefully, speaking so gently, it was clear that he was worried about scaring you. That he would go to so much trouble when you'd dragged him into your drama astonished you. And considering that you were hiding from someone with no respect for boundaries, Bucky's obvious concern that he not breach yours had you ready to climb him like a tree.

On a laugh rich with that attraction, you took a hold of the edge of his leather jacket and tugged softly, wanting to make your intent clear. "Come on over, sexy stranger. Way better than gross stalker." He crowded close with a wide grin and hot eyes but remained just far enough away to not be touching you, though you could feel the heat of his body seeping into yours. It made you dizzy.

"I'm gonna have to hear the whole story over those drinks you're buying me." This close, Bucky could catch the edge of your scent and to his surprise, it was driving him a little crazy. You smelled of citrus and sweet and something indescribable, like warmth and sugar and sighs. He wondered if it was your perfume or if it was just you.

This close, you couldn't help but get caught in warm, bright blue. "That's the stupid thing!" You looked at Bucky earnestly as you leaned against the wall. "There's not really a story. I don't get it." You didn't know it, but your voice and demeanor had taken on a kind of sick bafflement that made Bucky's heart throb in sympathy. Your eyes had fixed themselves on a spot in the middle of his chest, a little lost and a lot confused. "He's just a friend of a friend of a friend who got weirdly focused on me."

"Hey." Bucky hated it when people blamed themselves for what others did. "That's the way it is sometimes." He gave you a warm smile as he lifted his free hand to your face to brush the pad of his thumb lightly over the line of your jaw. "You didn't do anything, I promise you. He probably needs help, and that's not your fault." The softness of your skin fascinated him, but he didn't want to come on too strong. He dropped his hand even as your lips parted in what looked like pleasure.

You took a shaky breath in, rocked to the core by the heat that spread through you from that delicate brush of his skin against yours. "You really are perfect, aren't you?" you laughed softly, thinking it odd that the exasperating situation with Bill the Stalker had led to this. The scent of Bucky, leather and pine, wound into your head and tempted. "I didn't even want to come out tonight."

Bucky gave you a conspiratorial wink. "Me neither. I really don't belong in this club." He said it laughing, but you could tell he meant it.

"Right!?" You nearly cried it, delighted to find him in agreement. "My best friend dragged me out with her work friends. I wanted to stay in with pizza and The Witcher." You shot him a warm look from under sultry lashes. "I didn't know you'd be here."

His answering smile was slow and hot and the way it turned his face dark and dangerous in the best possible way caused another spasm of lust to rocket through you. If he didn't stop being so damn perfect, you weren't certain you could resist that smile much longer.

Bucky couldn't believe how much he already liked you, wanted to find out more. He was starting to get irritated by the atmosphere that kept him on edge when he wanted to relax and get to know you. "You're singing my song." he said. "My friend says that I'm surly and antisocial and need to mingle with people."

"You, too?" Your arms were at your side, your hands against the cool brick. You pressed your palms against the rough surface, taking a deep breath to calm your racing heart. Lost in bright blue, basking in the warmth of Bucky's body, you'd nearly forgotten that you were hiding. “But why does it have to be a club? I would kill to be in a pub with a beer, listening to somebody argue about the Yankees.”

Bucky's eyes lit up, making your skin run hot. Then his eyes narrowed. "Opinion on the Yankees?" he demanded.

A laugh tickling the back of your throat, you answered cheekily. "Evil."

"Will you marry me?"

You laughed out loud, the question so earnest you couldn't help yourself. His face spread from serious to a wide, happy smile at the sight of your laughter, and he was so pretty it took your breath again. You opened your mouth to flirt back, lifting your hand to his chest to toy with one of the snaps on his jacket when you saw Bill the Stalker out of the left corner of your eye.

Your hand closed, frightened, around the edge of Bucky’s jacket instead, your face matching the panicked movement. "Shit. He's right there."

Bucky was furious to see your eyes go dim in fear again, was opening his mouth to offer to deal with this asshole for you, but you were using your grip on his jacket to pull him even closer. The words died on his lips at the feel of your body against his. "Kiss me," you said, urgently, and he was only too happy to comply. His eyes glittered, hot and narrow, as he moved forward.

Bucky's arm slipped between you and the wall to slide around your waist and drag you against his body. His palm was warm between your shoulder blades as he pressed you to his chest and his lips to yours. Your mind was wiped clean at the feel of his arms around you, his mouth moving over yours slowly, as though he could take a thousand years savoring you. Your arms lifted to twine around his neck as your lips parted, the desire to taste him overwhelming. When he deepened the kiss with a low groan in his throat, sweeping his tongue between your lips to curl around yours, everything else faded away. You forgot where you were, who was around, and even why you'd asked him to kiss you in the first place.

Why hardly mattered. You were still kissing him because he was the sexiest man you'd ever met and kissing him had you hot and needy faster than you'd ever experienced. You didn't do one-night stands as a rule, but for Bucky, you'd make an exception.

Bucky was happily lost in the wonder of your mouth, only his years of training maintaining an awareness of his surroundings. That awareness of the crowd around the two of you was all that was keeping him from devouring you. The feel of your arms around him, your hand on the back of his neck as you pressed against him and kissed him eagerly had him lightheaded and rock hard.

The memory of why you'd asked him to kiss you tickled at the back of his mind, however. He wanted to take you somewhere else, somewhere your stalker wasn't. The next time you asked him to kiss you, he wanted it to be because you wanted him, not to hide from someone else.

Reluctantly, he lifted his head and loosened his arm, though he stayed where he was. His eyes searing, his voice a growl, he spoke to seduce. "There a pub three blocks from here that has Guinness on tap. Ditch your friends and I'll ditch mine." You'd swear the devil himself had a smile like the one that curved his perfect pink lips. "I want to know everything about you, and I can't think around this kind of music."

You'd dropped your hands to his shoulders when he'd broken the kiss, but to brace yourself, not push him away. Feeling reckless, you decided to trust your gut and go with him. You had a good feeling about a man who'd kiss you brainless, then offer to take you somewhere to talk. "I'm already there in spirit. I'll text my bitch on our way."

Bucky laughed and let you go to step back. "And I'll text mine." He held his hand out for yours with that wicked grin. "Shall we?"

You put your hand in his, that devil-may-care smile of his too tempting to resist. "Lead the way, sexy stranger. I'm with you."

A few hours later found you in Bucky's apartment, on his couch, in his lap. His hands were clamped around your thighs and yours were in his hair as you straddled his hips to suck on that plump lower lip the way you'd been thinking about since you set eyes on him. The hours between had been filled with easy conversation and warm laughter. Bucky had taken you to his pub, and over a couple of pints you’d talked about any and everything even as you breathlessly watched each other with eyes that burned and teased one another with casual brushes of skin.

When he asked you back to his place, you didn't hesitate. By that time, you were ready to spontaneously combust. You'd been on his couch for less than five minutes before you were climbing into his lap to take him up on everything his eyes had been promising all night.

Bucky pulled his mouth from yours with an effort, but the column of your throat had been tempting him for hours and he wanted the taste of your skin on his mouth more than his next breath. He also needed to hear that you wanted what he wanted, needed to be certain you were as lost as he.

"Goddamn, y/n," he purred against your throat as he savored the salt of your skin. His hands were skimming over the bare skin of your thighs to grip tight and the feeling had you rocking gently against him. Bucky continued on a moan, "You are so fucking sexy.”

You laughed and arched to give him better access to your neck, loving the feeling of his mouth on your skin, especially when he was saying such pretty things. "Me? You’re the one that looks like hand-crafted sin.”

Bucky chuckled at that even as his mouth grew more feverish over your neck and shoulders. “If you want to sin, babygirl, all you have to do is say the word.”

“The word.” You half-laughed, half-moaned your way through the cheeky retort as Bucky took the opportunity to scrape his teeth softly down the cords of your neck, making you shudder in reaction.

Bucky lifted his head, his mind muddled by the feel, the taste of you. At the mistily confused look on his face, you melted, utterly charmed. Your smile held mysteries he was desperate to unravel as you rubbed your breasts shamelessly against that broad chest and murmured, “I really don’t know how to throw myself at you any harder, Bucky.”

The fact that most of the blood that belonged in his brain had traveled south to his dick may have made him slower on the uptake than usual, but he'd gotten there. His face melted into a smug half-smile as his grip tightened around your thighs and he leaned forward to take your mouth in a ferocious kiss. Muscles bunching beneath you and making your heart race in arousal, Bucky stood with you in his arms, carrying you like you weighed nothing to his bedroom.

You didn't know how he did it, but somehow he got you into his bed without taking his mouth from yours. You barely remembered the trip, so viciously erotic was that meeting of mouths. With lips and tongue and teeth, he worshipped your mouth with his own, tumbling you into his bed in a tangle of limbs.

Now that Bucky was certain that you wanted what he wanted, to lose yourself in the press of your body against his, he let himself touch you the way he'd been craving since he met eyes with yours across a crowded room. Hands gentle but voracious, he pulled at your clothes until your dress was on the floor and his palms were moving over freshly bared skin.

You tugged as eagerly at his clothing, sliding your hands up under soft cotton to get to the soft skin and firm muscle beneath it. On your back in the middle of his bed, you shuddered and quaked in pleasure as his hands explored your belly, your hips, your thighs. Meanwhile, his mouth was moving over the curves of your breasts and murmuring words of praise in between sucking kisses to taste the salt of your skin.

You couldn't be self-conscious if you tried, Bucky was so clearly loving everything about your body. His hands only grew more eager, his mouth more avid as he impatiently stripped your bra away to cup your breasts in his hands.

Warm breath caressed your skin, sending shudders running through you as he brushed his lips over the mounds of flesh his kneading hands had made. “You have the prettiest tits,” he whispered hotly as his mouth closed around your nipple.

You moaned out a laugh as you arched into his hands, your core clenching in response to the maddeningly pleasurable sensation coupled with the hot appreciation in his voice. "Thank you?" you replied, unsure how to respond, not that he seemed to be listening, too absorbed in his current occupation of driving you insane with his mouth.

You opted to focus on getting him naked, desperate to feel him. Once you’d torn his shirt off over his head, he impatiently went back to adoring your breasts with his mouth as his hands wandered down to your ass. Meanwhile, your hands traveled over his shoulders and down his arms, reveling in the feeling of smooth skin and firm muscle, marveling at the glide of your palm over cool metal. You weren't exploring, however, but had a set destination in mind as you moved immediately to work on the buttons of his jeans, wanting as much of that velvet skin against yours as possible.

Bucky chuckled darkly as he lifted his head to nip at your lips. The sensation of your fingers at his fly pulling impatiently at buttons was teasing an erection already painfully hard. "You’re killin’ me, doll.” His voice was a growl, the accent of his youth growing more pronounced as his body heated with desire.

“Get these off and I’ll save you,” you retorted with cheeky grin as your hands slipped under the waistband of both the jeans you’d unfastened and his underwear. You were getting impatient and moved immediately to shove them down over his deliciously tight ass. His eyebrow quirked up, but he loved how insistent you were about getting him naked.

Bucky laughed when you quirked an eyebrow back at him and kept pushing at his clothing. Delighted with you, he rolled to the side to kick the last of his clothes to the floor. As soon as he was nude, he was rolling back to slide the length of his body against yours, braced over you on his metal arm, his pretty face inches from yours as his other hand went back to memorizing the texture of your skin.

The sight of him, sculpted as a marble statue, scarred as a warrior, took your breath. All that luscious skin pressing and skimming over yours as Bucky began to nibble at the edge of your jaw gave it back in the form of a moan. You slid one arm around his neck to bury a fist in his thick hair while the other wandered over his chest and around his back, reveling in the play of muscle as it went. "How are you real?" you asked in a whisper as the arm he wasn't braced on moved to your hip to push your underwear down over your ass, kneading the cheek as he went.

"I was just thinking the same thing about you." Bucky's voice was so low it registered as a growl. Pure lust resonated in his tone and took any sting you may have felt from his next words. "I’m seventy percent sure you’re an assassin; you’re too perfect."

The warmth and laughter were tempered by a half-serious note. Both made you giggle, flattered that he'd think you both perfect and deadly when you knew you were neither. "Don’t worry," you purred in his ear as his hands squeezed your ass, pulling you tight against his body to rub you against him, to pet you with his skin. His face was buried in the curve of your neck as with teeth and sucking kisses he sent shivers racing through you. "If I was, I’d wait until after I’ve fucked you." Bucky barked out a laugh as he lifted his head to grin into your eyes. He pulled away just enough to slide his hand between your thighs, his softly petting fingers making you shudder in reaction. "I couldn’t stop now if the room was on fire," you finished on a moan.

The sight of you, deliciously naked in the center of his bed, skin glowing in the low light of his darkened bedroom had him hotter than he'd ever been. Your muscles quivered with every soft slide of his fingers over and through your folds and sent shudders of reaction over his skin. Though the lust was riding him hard, he couldn’t resist the siren song of your pleasure, and kept his movements slow and deliberate as he learned your body and what you liked.

“Sweet,” he breathed in awe as you whimpered and clung, his hand working what felt like magic between your thighs, “and hot,” one long, gentle finger slipped down to tease at your entrance, “and so wet.” He finished his drawn-out sentence on a groan as your hips bucked upward and his forefinger slid softly inside as you gasped.

A slow, careful twist of his wrist and he was pressing deeper as you arched and whimpered, the feeling a gorgeous kind of friction that you couldn't get enough of. When he gently caressed your forward wall with the pad of his finger as it dragged out of you, your gasp of pleasure and soft "Oooh" of reaction sent a wracking shudder through Bucky as he barely held himself in check. He wanted to be inside of you more than he'd ever wanted anything in his life, at least as far as he could tell in this moment.

He dropped his forehead to yours from where he'd been looking back and forth between your face and his hand working busily between your thighs. He was panting with the effort to keep himself from rolling on top of you and driving home immediately, but he also couldn't stop watching you take your pleasure from him. He plunged his fingers in and out of you in a rough but gentle rhythm that had you panting in turn.

"So wet," he repeated, making you cry out in shocked rapture as he softly rasped his palm over your clit as he pulled his fingers from you. "I fucking love it." He sounded like he was on the edge of his control and the deep grumble of his desire sent shockwaves through you even as his fingers began to rub rhythmic circles into your clit.

The hand you'd buried in his hair had released its death grip and gone traveling. You'd moved down over his metal shoulder, explored his chest and abdomen, enjoying the texture of his skin. At the same moment your hand closed around his cock, he found the perfect speed and rhythm.

With a gasp and a shuddering moan, your other hand shot down to close around his wrist. "Right there," you panted, your breath speeding as he kept moving exactly as you needed. "Like that."

Bucky's eyes had rolled back in his head at the touch of your hand sliding along his erection, but they soon narrowed on your face. He was lost in the undulations of your body, the thoughtless but no less pleasurable squeeze of your hand around his cock, the sweet sounds he was driving from your throat while you gave yourself into his hands. He wanted to see your face when you crested, needed to drive you to peak.

"Are you gonna come for me, pretty girl?" His voice was harsh with his panting breath on the question, the rumble of it settling into your skin where his chest was pressed to your side. "I wanna see it," your eyes went wide on his as he bent to nip at your lips, his breath hot as it mingled with yours, "wanna see how pretty you look coming on my hand."

"Oh my god," you moaned, shocked to feel yourself coming apart so quickly at his relentless, glorious hands, at his wonderfully dirty mouth. Your eyes closed as your head rolled back and your back arched as luscious waves of pleasure spread out from your core and through your body in wracking shudders. That busy hand worked you through every last one.

When he gently removed his hand and slid his metal arm from under you, where he'd slipped it under your arching back to hold you closer as you came and came, your eyes fluttered open to find his bright and searing. "Bucky," you breathed, sounding both seductive and impressed.

Dazzled by the warm, soft look of pleasure that marked both your face and form, he paused in his roll to the nightstand and leaned down to kiss you with a tender kind of greed. "Beautiful."

When he pulled away to sit on the edge of the bed to roll on a condom, you lay stunned and still shaking, but sinfully smug. Your heart was still racing from the delicious way he'd touched you, the attention he'd paid, the care he'd taken. You firmly told yourself that you did not believe in love at first sight and even if you did, you were not so naïve as to mistake good sex for anything more.

Then he was standing up and turning around to climb onto the bed and come toward you on his hands and knees, all sculpted muscle and aroused male. You licked your lips and propped yourself up on your elbows, watching him with a hungry appreciation that made him laugh.

Bucky was so aroused it actually hurt and he couldn't wait to be inside you. He'd make love to you slowly later. For now, he was shaking with need even as he skimmed his hands up and over your thighs to close his hands around your hips. With a cocky smirk, he pulled you close, your legs instinctively wrapping around his waist.

"I’ll bet you’re even prettier coming on my cock.”

“Only one way to find out.” Your mouth quirked up seductively even as the timbre of his voice, pure rough lust, sent a shudder through you. That shiver of heat over your skin had you tightening your thighs a little on the invitation. You were almost dizzy with the heat of his body and looking at him towering over you, all sexy smirks and hungry eyes, made you nearly desperate to have him inside you.

Bucky’s face had taken on an almost feral look of anticipation as he positioned the head of his cock at your entrance. He was gorgeous in nothing but his skin and desire, his muscles bunching and flexing as he held you in place. On your sassy response, however, his face melted into a laugh and then a sweet smile that looked so close to adoration it made your heart kick in a different kind of excitement.

He leaned over you, braced on one arm as his metal arm slipped under your hips to hold you. As he began to sink slowly into you, he took your mouth with a savage greed that made you buck your hips in answer.

Your arms came up to wrap around him as you whimpered into his mouth, the stretch to accommodate him almost uncomfortable if it wasn’t such rapture. You kissed him back with a fervor you couldn’t remember experiencing before and couldn’t hold back.

With a panting groan, he tore his mouth from yours to rest his forehead on your shoulder as he pushed slowly and gently, despite that tempting movement of your hips. He had the nearly overwhelming urge to begin thrusting wildly, the sensation of being wrapped in you was so exquisite.

“Damn,” he purred in your ear as he pushed steadily deeper, “I knew you were damn near perfect but goddamn.” On the last growling word, he thrust to the hilt and paused to readjust his slippery grip on control. You were making gasping, panting noises of need and the sound was making him crazy. Only the fear of hurting you kept him from snapping and slamming into you, the feeling of you stretching and clenching around his cock pushing him to his limits.

You kept still except for those gasping breaths of excitement, feeling almost too stretched. As Bucky held still to let you adjust to having him inside you, you could feel yourself begin to soften and relax around him, your muscles shifting to hold him closer. He obviously felt it too, and gave a tiny testing thrust that had an answering moan lifting out of you.

His head lifted from your shoulder to look into your face, his eyes searing as he took in the sight of you reveling in the pleasure he brought you. “You ready, pretty girl?” He gave another testing thrust and smiled when you shuddered and clung to him, arms and legs wrapping tight around him.

“Ready for what?” You smiled on the mock confused question as your hands slid up his broad back into his hair and you rocked your hips a little, slightly moving yourself along his length.

His eyes were searing as he bent his neck to nip at your lips, but you could taste the laughter on his mouth. Achingly slow, he withdrew, and Bucky felt that tether on his control slip a little when you whined at the loss. When he thrust a little forcefully back into you and you cried out in ecstatic relief, a single, elongated, hissing "Yes," falling from your lips, he gave in and let go.

His face took on a dangerously beautiful cast that only added to the delicious feeling of him giving you exactly what you wanted, everything he'd been holding back. You gloried in the feeling of his metal arm holding you up for his rough thrusts, his cool hand squeezing your ass. His other arm was up under your back and over your shoulder, his long fingers pressing into your skin as he surrounded you, enfolded you, destroyed you.

Bucky gloried in your cries of pleasure as his thrusts sped and sped until he was pounding into you. Even as he lost control, some part of his brain kept track of your responses to make sure he wasn't hurting you, but you egged him on through both word and deed, your breathless voice in his ear pleading, urging, demanding, your hips relentlessly rocking to meet his.

Your arms and legs were wrapped around Bucky, holding him as close as possible. You adored what he was doing, his thrusts perfectly balanced on the edge between pleasure and pain. You felt utterly ravished, and with Bucky, it was glorious.

One of your hands was in his hair while the other skimmed and scratched at his back, shoulders, ass, any part of him you could reach. Every press and slide of your hand made him crazier, pushed him higher. His hips moved just a little faster with every shudder of pleasure he felt at the touch of your hands on his body, in his hair.

Your hips only rocked faster in return, taking all he had to give you and returning it. He'd never felt so in sync with someone so quickly and he couldn't resist it. He couldn't resist you.

With a snarl of lust, he lifted up onto his knees, wanting to see his cock sliding in and out of you. He slid his forearms under your thighs to close his hands around your hips, not breaking the rhythm of his thrusts into you. The change of angle was exactly what you needed to push you over that shuddering edge into ecstasy.

Bucky’s jaw clenched with the effort of holding back. He could feel you squeezing and rippling around him as your climax took you and the sensation coupled with the sight of you nearly dragged him over that edge with you.

His thrusts slowed as he got lost watching the picture you made, your arms at your sides, hands fisted in his sheets, your back arched as you moaned, rapture touched with surprise as you came. “Beautiful,” he breathed as you began to relax back into his bed, falling back to Earth.

Your eyes fluttered open to find his narrowed and glittering, a muscle jumping in his cheek. Your breath caught when his mouth curved in a dangerous smirk and he readjusted his grip around your hips.

“Again,” he growled as he picked up the speed of his thrusts once again, driving you back to peak, before the last ripples around his cock had ceased. He was delighted to find that same angle and speed and sent you flying again, to your shuddering astonishment.

He was only human, however, and he couldn’t resist bending down to kiss you the next time he gave you a brief respite from those relentless hips. Once he was close, braced on his arms over you, you twined around him like a vine. All soft limbs and softer sighs, you pulled him onto you and rubbed against him, wanting his velvet skin against yours, his warmth seeping into you again.

Bucky was rocking into you with more and more force before he realized it, losing himself in the sweetness of your voice in his ear as you kissed his neck, your breath on his skin, your hands brushing pleasure into his flesh, tangling in his hair. You were soft and sweet and the feel of you under his hands, his body only pushed him further into the ecstasy of your hands and body drawing him down and under, into you.

What was ultimately his undoing, however, was the sound of your voice, an ache in your breath against his skin, a simple sentence. “Bucky,” you whimpered and his name in that tone had his grip on control slipping, “it’s so good.” You sank your teeth into his shoulder, but it was already too late; he was coming with stuttering hips and a groan of joy-soaked pleasure.

He’d expected you to delight him. He hadn’t expected you to destroy him.

You’d already been riding waves of feeling, highly sensitized and shimmering through shockwaves in response to his every smooth movement. The sudden increase in speed sent you flying once again, but this time, you were able to take him with you.

As the waves of swamping pleasure eased, Bucky dropped his forehead to yours, breathless and smiling sweetly and you felt your heart kick in a way that had you smiling helplessly back.

Thinking that you were possibly the prettiest thing he’d ever seen, Bucky pressed his lips to yours in a kiss too soft and tender for a simple hookup. “Beautiful,” he whispered before rolling away to sit on the side of the bed. You heard something land in the wastebasket, you assumed the condom, before he flopped back down with a sigh of contentment.

“Damn, doll,” he murmured, still a little breathless, “you know how to wreck a man.”

You lay in Bucky’s bed, still vibrating from what he’d done to your body, and stared at the ceiling in astonishment. You'd never been in this situation, wanting more from a hookup, so you didn't know quite what to do. You wanted to respond with something sassy, some witty flirtation, but all that came out was a wondering, “Oh, wow.”

Bucky snorted as he rolled to his side, smug to hear the well-pleasured rasp to your voice. Propping his head up on his hand, he looked down at you as his arm snaked out to curve around your waist and drag you close. Snugging you in next to him, he grinned happily, his pretty face making your heart kick again. "High praise," he teased, charmed by the shy smile you were giving him in return. "I hope you don't intend to dip out now that you've had your wicked way with me."

He knew he’d said the right thing when the tension in your muscles eased and your body melted against his, your smile turning sultry. He couldn’t resist the seductive curve to your mouth and leaned down to brush his lips against yours. “I still want more, if you’re up for it,” he whispered against your mouth, his hand squeezing your hip gently.

Your heart was kicking and dancing no matter how you chided the silly thing, but that didn't stop the smile from lighting up your face and dazzling Bucky all over again. "I wouldn't want to overstay my welcome," you flirted back in a low murmur, "but if you aren't satisfied…" As you trailed off, you lifted a hand to his shoulder to pull him back down, arching up to take his mouth with your own.

The next time Bucky lifted his head, he was breathing fast and his body was signaling that it was ready to go again, though he would wager yours wasn't. He dragged himself back from the temptation you posed, breaking the kiss reluctantly. "I'm not sure I can get enough." He smoothed his hand in a sweeping motion down over your thigh and back up again, sending agreeable shivers over the surface of your skin. His voice was a rumble of seduction, coaxing you to relax and let him adore you. "Can I convince you to stay if I promise to make you breakfast?" he asked even as his arms were pulling you closer.

"I don't know." Your voice was warm and inviting on the response. Bucky couldn't have made it clearer that he was as caught in this as you were. You hadn't yet regretted following this sexy stranger into the night. You'd follow him into tomorrow. "Can you cook an egg over medium?"

Bucky's eyelids lowered, as did his voice, and the look of him was so sexy, your nails dug into his skin in sheer lust. "You have no idea what I can do with this hand."

You blinked, a little shocked, a lot interested. "That almost sounded like a threat."

The corner of his mouth lifted in that infuriatingly sexy smirk. "A dare." When you smirked back, and drew him back down, he murmured against your mouth, "How did I know you'd take a dare?"

The next morning saw you sitting in his kitchen, wearing one of his Henleys and nothing else. A perfectly cooked egg sat on your plate, along with hash browns smothered in cheese and gorgeous golden-brown pancakes. The man was a genius, his arm precise to an insane degree and his control over it awe-inspiring. You didn't know what lucky star you'd fallen under to have found him, but you were thanking it with all your might.

The hallelujah chorus singing in your head only grew louder when you lifted a bite of pancake to your mouth and found it to be perfectly fluffy, with the right give to your teeth. You almost came for the umpteenth time and you made a sound to match. At your purr of pleasure, Bucky's eyes fired, and you knew that only your earlier confession that you were getting sore was stopping him from having you again.

The previous night had left you with no doubt that Bucky wanted you.

The fire in his eyes took on a decidedly green hue, however, when halfway through a laughing, flirty breakfast your phone buzzed on the table between you with a text from Bill the Stalker, as you'd named him both in your head and in your phone. Bucky's jaw tightened and his eyes narrowed even as he sat back in his chair and casually slung his arm over the back.

“You should tell him that you're seeing someone."

You could hear the vague irritation and hoped it wasn't jealousy. You didn't think you could stand it if a man this amazing in every other way was going to drop a red flag like possessiveness straight out of the gate. "Should I?" You spoke the words mildly as you forked up another bite of pancake, but the challenge was clear in both your tone and the raised eyebrow you quirked in his direction. "Am I seeing someone?"

Bucky's grin flashed, pure appreciation. He had a soft spot for sassy women with spines of steel. He only grew more and more infatuated with every minute in your company, every new expression that crossed your face. "I sure as hell hope so." He abandoned his casual posture, leaning forward to take your free hand in his. Playing gently with your fingers, he smiled, his pretty face bashful pink. "I want to see where this goes. Don't you?"

"Yeah." You breathed the word without thinking, but couldn't, wouldn't take it back. He was a dream come true in a dozen different ways and though you knew he had to have his flaws, you found yourself excited to find out what they were. "Yes, I do. Every risk I've taken with you has worked out really well for me so far."

Bucky laughed, delighted with you and the world in general. He didn't know how he lucked out to have collided with you, but he was painfully grateful. He lifted a hand cup your throat, his thumb brushing your face as he pulled you close. He kissed you quickly to begin, flashing you that happy grin, but then he kissed you long and slow, with a warm promise that made your heart race.

As you pulled back, your breath caught at the look of narrow-eyed lust on Bucky's pretty face. "Am I gonna make it out of this apartment today?" Your voice was a wry invitation. You didn't want him to think you were necessarily against the idea.

“Only if you want to.”

Bucky gave up trying to keep his hands off of you, reaching out to drag you into his lap. His palm immediately began skimming up your thigh and under the shirt he'd loaned you. "Fuck it," you laughed as you wrapped your arms around his shoulders. "I was done with breakfast anyway."

Bucky responded by burying his face in your neck as he pushed the plates away to the other side of the table, his other arm tightening around you.

You smiled softly as you remembered how you'd found him.

You looked over your outfit for the night, considering. You wanted it to be perfect, the kind of outfit that would make him crazy to get underneath it. You brushed your hand over soft fabric, the kind that begged to be touched, to be caressed. Underneath you'd be wearing more soft fabric, but the kind that begged to be removed, torn away in rapture.

You were in the bathroom putting a touch of gloss on your lips, just enough to make them look wet, when you heard your front door close and Bucky's shout of greeting. With a quick grin at yourself in the mirror, you whirled to start your standing Friday night date.

Bucky looked up from the takeout he was setting on your coffee table. His bright blue eyes warmed at the sight of you, his face lighting up as it always did. You'd yet to regret a risk you'd taken with him, up to and including moving in together. You woke to those blue eyes every day now, as long as he was home.

You put up with the times he had to be away, because he made it worth it, was always a hundred percent present whenever he was with you. He made it clear that in every way he was yours, that there was nowhere he'd rather be than with you. Maybe it was that you had a stalker when you met, but he'd also always been respectful of your space, never made you feel crowded or afraid. He'd always used that deadly strength and grace to adore you, to protect you.

He hadn't had to intimidate Bill, however, to his chagrin. Maria beat him to it, which salved her irritation that the two of you had found each other without her help.

Bucky's eyebrow quirked up when you stood in the doorway to your living room and looked him over, a secretive smile on your face. "Get your ass over here, pretty girl," he demanded, disbelief that you weren't already in his arms ripe in his tone. His grin flashed like lightning when you almost ran to him, grateful for the jackpot you'd won in each other. You knew it was a simple thing, but a rare one nonetheless, to be so easy together, to be so in tune.

For instance, "Mmm." He buried his face in your neck as he hummed and his hands immediately started wandering over the soft cashmere that covered you, palms skimming over the fabric, fingers kneading at the flesh beneath. You'd known he wouldn't be able, nor would he bother to try, to resist the temptation you'd deliberately presented. "What're you hiding under here, huh?"

His voice was warm and full of fun as his hands went to the tie of the robe he'd given you for your birthday. As was yours when you playfully batted his hands away. "You'll find out." You grabbed his hands in yours and held them as you brushed your lips against his. "Get the movie ready while I grab drinks."

Awhile later, dinner was gone, the credits were rolling, and you were straddling Bucky's hips as he found the silk and lace you were wearing beneath the cashmere when your phones went off, one after the other.

"You look. I'm busy."

His hands were skimming up from your hips to your breasts and back down again as he devoured the sight of you in midnight blue lingerie. His voice was a low, warm growl of desire and you knew it would have to be an emergency to distract him now.

As you leaned back to grab your phone from the coffee table, you sent him a sultry look and let your robe slip over your shoulders and down your arms. Bucky's hands tightened around your hips as his eyes narrowed, glittering, and his mouth curved in that cocky smirk that had gotten you into all of this in the first place. Thank heaven for it.

"Sam and Maria. The club."

You tilted a look of smirking disbelief Bucky's way, rolling your eyes as you tossed the phone back on the coffee table. Your eyes warm and sultry, you let your robe fall all the way off, making him laugh happily and yank you close.

“Fuck the club.”

The End.

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[takerfoxx]

Here's the next part of the Walpurgis Nights girls watch The Rebellion Story, this time stretching from that upside-down reflection conversation to Homura and Kyoko's wacky bus trip.

Reminder:

G=Gretchen

H=Homulilly

Op=Ophelia

Ok=Oktavia

Ca=Candeloro/Mami

Ch=Charlotte

...

Ca: Okay, so, is everyone ready?

Ch: Yeah. Yeah. Sorry about losing my shit. I’ll try to keep it together.

Op: No, by all means. I’d say you’re entitled.

G: I mean, if I found out that I was a tiny, living doll that turned into a giant worm, I’d be upset too!

=Charlotte sighs deeply=

G: Oh. Sorry.

H: It’s a fake.

G: Eh?

H: All of it. The whole scenario. We’re caught in a super-witch’s labyrinth, or some kind of virtual reality simulation, or a shared dream.

Ok: Like the Matrix?

H: The what?

Ok: Oh, I’ve got to show that one to you. It’s this old movie from the world of the living about how all of humanity are trapped in this virtual world because machines have taken over the planet, and they use people’s bodies as living batteries or something. And-

Op: Tavi, starting to ramble.

Ok: Sorry. Anyway, there’s like three different recreations out there. Personally I like the one from Madd Dogg Studios the best.

Op: Because of all the sex.

Ok: Yeah, the other two don’t have those. Shame, really.

Ch: Okay, hold on though! If all that is some kind of weird simulation, then why am I there? By rights if you guys never turned into witches, I should be dead! You should’ve killed me, and then I would be comfortably here in Freehaven while you guys sit around singing songs to severed heads inside of demented teddy-bears!

G: Well, if there’s no witches in this world, then maybe we never fought you in the first place.

Ch: But I’m clearly a witch!

G: Yeah, that is weird.

Ca: Let’s find out.

…

Ok: You think that all of this being in an upside-down reflection means anything?

H: Yes. That it’s a fake.

Op: You are not going to let that go, are you?

H: Just watch.

Op: Have you seen this before?

H: Obviously not.

Ok: Well, this version of Candeloro is just as on it with her tea game, I see.

Ca: Some things never change.

Ok: Like Ophelia’s dislike for sour stuff, apparently.

Ca: It’s her tradeoff for her ungodly tolerance for spicy.

Ch: Yeah, I’m pretty sure it’s not as high as she makes it out to be.

Op: Hey, who exactly ate those dockengaut viper peppers without flinching? Me, that’s who!

Ch: You literally had to the hospital and grow your tongue back.

Op: But I didn’t flinch.

…

Ok: They really like showing us around the town.

G: Do any of these locations mean anything?

Ca: Well, that’s the school, so I suppose-Huh?

G: UM!

Ok: Why is everyone’s faces suddenly horribly disfigured?

Ch: Are they melting? It looks like they’re melting.

Op: Yeah. And…ours are fine?

G: See! You two are sleeping in class! I told you that having a party right after fighting that Nightmare was a bad idea! Growing girls need sleep!

Op: Honestly, I’m more concerned about the horrific burns on everyone’s face than I am about our counterparts’ unhealthy sleeping habits.

H: HA! Called it! It’s a simulation! None of those people are real! We’re the only actual people here!

Op: Hey, credit where it’s due, you did call it.

G: Looks like Hitomi’s real too.

H: Oh, goody.

G: So’s that guy with the silver hair? Who is he?

Ok: Oh, so that must be Kyousuke!

Op: That was who I was up against? Huh. Well, he’s…pretty.

Ok: I always wondered what he looked like.

Op: …so?

Ok: I’m sure past me thought he was good-looking, but I still think I traded up.

Op: Darn right, you did.

…

Ch: So who took the time to make food in the shape of your heads?

Ok: You know, between this and Hitomi, there’s a lot of severed heads going around.

=Candeloro frowns and feels her neck=

Ch: You okay?

Ca: I’m fine. I just got the weirdest feeling of déjà vu all of a sudden.

Ok: Who wants to bet that the one with all the bags of junk food for lunch is Ophelia?

Op: What? Why me in specific?

Ca: That one must be mine.

Ch: Well, at least I get my own severed-head snack now.

G: Right next to Kyubey.

H: If there was any justice in the world that would be his actual head.

G: Still. Those soul-gem treats are pretty creative.

Ca: Oh, wait! Never mind! That’s Homura’s lunch.

Ch: Homulilly? Why are you eating my face?

H: Don’t ask.

Op: And of course I snatch Blue Raspberry’s soul-gem!

Ok: Even then, you couldn’t keep me out of your mouth.

Op: AAANNNDDD the rat just ate it. Huh.

Ok: Oh, that makes me so uncomfortable.

Ch: And we get a close-up of me looking like a lunatic. Thanks, movie.

Op: I mean, that is a pretty accurate depiction of your face whenever you get anywhere near a piece of mozzarella.

H: All of this making me incredibly uneasy.

G: What is?

H: The slow pace. The lack of audible dialogue. The somber music. Something is up.

Ch: That’s all kinds of deliberate.

H: Well, at least this other me can tell that something’s wrong.

Op: I for one am incredibly disappointed in the rest of us. Everyone in the city has their faces burned off. That ought to at least raise a few red flags.

…

Ok: AAANNNDDD it’s gone all weird again!

Ca: Okay, this is obviously a witch’s labyrinth. They’re not even hiding it anymore.

Ok: Except from us. Like, are we blind?

Op: Oh, hey. It’s me. A lunch date?

H: I doubt it.

G: Is any of this normal? I mean, I know Freehaven is strange to newcomers but normal to us, so in this world, is it normal to just hang out on a floating island filled with chairs and tables with really long legs while blimps fly by in formation?

Ok: To say nothing of that freakshow going on down there. What are those? Those creepy little girls and the guy with the wind-up box?

Ca: Witch’s familiars.

=everyone looks to Charlotte, who is nonplussed=

Ch: You know, I’m actually okay with being the villain. At least that would make sense!

Op: You better get some kind of redemption arc and a weirdly sexually charged gunfight with Candeloro.

Ch: That would honestly make up for everything else that’s happened so far.

Ca: I don’t know. All of this looks very witchy, but it wasn’t what I remember from your labyrinth.

…

Op: Hey. Teenaged me. Wake up and smell the bad drug trip.

Ch: Why do you guys have so many cups on that table? Do you have a drinking problem or something?

Op: Look, shit is weird. Don’t judge our coping mechanisms.

G: Is it just me, or is there a bunch of random objects just falling out of the sky all around you?

Ok: Is it just me, or did that blimp have to come literally out of the river to fly at that angle?

H: This is getting progressively more dream-like.

Op: Nice crotch-shot, movie. How come I don’t get the boob or butt camera like Candy and Tavi?

Ch: Do you really want us to answer that question?

Op: I’d prefer if you didn’t.

H: Anyone else notice that the number of cups keep changing?

Op: Like I said. We all have our own ways of coping. Don’t judge.

…

H: Well, at least I’m noticing that something’s off. Even if I’m completely blind to the obviously bizarre stuff going on all around me?

G: Oh, so it’s going to be like a mystery story! And you’re the detective!

Op: And I get to be the sidekick. There are worst roles, I guess.

Ch: I guess that means you’re the main character after all, Lilly.

H: Thank you, but I’d really rather be the lead of a completely different movie.

…

Op: And off we go, on our wild adventure!

H: Beneath endless stone bridges. I mean, seriously. If either of us wanted proof that something was wrong, all we have to do is look up.

G: If this is a fake world you’re trapped in, you’re probably programmed to not notice that anything’s wrong. You know, like how we never really how strange dreams are until we wake up.

Op: Oh, what the hell. The bus is dropping us off in this fever dream? WAKE UP, IDIOTS! WAKE UP AND SMELL THE FREAKY!

Ch: They’re not even hiding it anymore.

G: You know, I can’t help but wonder if this world was always this strange, but that since the first few minutes were from our point of view all the weird stuff not having to do with the Nightmare wasn’t shown. But now that Lilly’s noticed, the weirdness just keeps coming out more and more.

Ch: I would not be surprised.

Ca: I think we can all collectively agree that despite whatever the witch turns out to be, this is all Kyubey’s fault, right?

Op: Fine by mean.

Ok: Agreed.

H: I wonder where all those fake people are going.

Op: I’m just going to assume that there’s a big meat grinder at the bottom of those stairs.

G: Ew.

…

Op: Oh, that’s not right? THAT’S NOT RIGHT? YAH THINK?

Ok: Of course you would be tipped off by the wrong destination but not by the field of hazy red filled with windmills.

Op: Turn left? We were supposed to turn left? HOW CAN YOU TELL? THERE’S NOTHING THERE!

Ch: That does bring up an interesting point. I’m assuming that you’re just blind to the weirdness because it’s got you trapped. So, what is it that you’re seeing?

G: Probably just a normal road, I guess.

Ok: Well, what did you expect taking the loop line?

…

Ch: Okay, so there’s a clear divide between the big, empty, red field with the windmills and the mostly normal looking city.

H: A very loose definition of the word “normal.”

Ch: Well, yeah, but you know what I mean.

H: Like I said. It’s not real.

Ch: We know, I’m just trying to pick out details.

Ok: Hey, girls. Don’t get on the creepy bus.

…

G: If at first you don’t succeed…

Op: Come on, other me! Get a clue!

H: I notice the field is blue now.

Ch: Probably to signify the change from day to night.

Ok: That bus driver is weirdly okay with a couple teenaged girls jumping onto the front of his bus and yelling at him.

H: He’s a fakedy-fake-fake.

Ok: We know! It’s called commentary!

H: Sorry.

Op: “Crossroads”? “Left fork”? How can you tell the difference! It’s a bunch of shiny tiles and windmills!

G: Plus that giant tower made of pipes!

Op: That was probably where we were heading. Giant tower made of pipes.

Ok: Wonder where the ramen shop was.

Op: Third pipe cluster from the bottom.

Ch: Hey, girls. Word of advice. Don’t walk into the scary, blank void.

Op: I know they can’t see the weirdness, but I still feeling like yelling at them.

G: Oh, hey! It’s normal again!

H: They were brought back to the city.

G: Well, relatively normal, at least. With a really tall bridge and giant moon.

…

Op: So…are we about to kiss or something?

H: Obviously not.

Op: I don’t know. You’re holding me awfully close.

H: I’m just trying to keep you from doing something stupid.

Op: If you say so.

…

Op: Oh, hey. If we didn’t have enough problems, it’s a zombie apocalypse.

H: All with our faces, I see.

Op: Somehow, that’s freakier than if they were just the classic rotting kind.

Ca: Obviously a defense system put in place by the witch. Once one of its prisoners start to notice that something’s wrong, the familiars come in to stop them.

Ch: You know, as much as the early parts weirded me out, I am really starting to dig this! I mean, sure, the cake song was…a thing that happened, but now there’s a reason for the weirdness! There’s a mystery! There’s set-up and atmosphere! It’s not just weird for the sake of being weird!

Ok: I’m pretty sure there’s some of that.

Ch: Well, sure.

H: You do remember that with the way things are going, you’re probably going to be revealed as the villain, right?

Ch: I am okay with this.

…

Op: And the zombies leave after I change my stance?

Ok: Those hips don’t lie.

H: More of they sensed that you weren’t resisting anymore.

Op: Might want to rephrase that.

H: You made it dirty. Not me.

Op: At least this me is starting to wake up. So you have at least one bad bitch supporting you.

H: I feel so much better.

G: Oh, hey! Even then you did that thing where you give people candy as a sign of affection!

Op: I’m honestly surprised that more people don’t do that. Honestly, most problems would be solved if people just gave each other candy all the time.

[chachkayes]

It Takes a Village

Title is subject to change. This fic is in a different format then my other fics, it is substantially longer than almost any chapter of Begin Again or one shot i’ve ever written. Also @herrera-n-hayes confirmed for me that this may be one of the most angsty fics I’ve ever written. Apologies if this causes you to go on an emotional rollercoaster. I tapped into my dark and twisty side to write this. Have fun :)

Word at Grey-Sloan Memorial spread fast – only a few hours after being admitted into the hospital after being found unconscious in the parking lot, practically the whole staff knew that Meredith Grey was once again in a fight for her life.

She’d woken up 4 hours later, with countless text messages from her friends at the hospital. She’d wondered how everyone found out so quickly and why everyone was acting like her exhaustion was just a big deal. That was, until she realized she’d become a patient in the COVID-19 Unit at Grey-Sloan Memorial Hospital. What she didn’t realize was that her closest friends at the hospital were inundating her old friends that’d moved with seemingly hourly updates about her condition.

-

“Hey Yang, I found Grey passed out in the parking lot. Not sure why she’s not responding, just thought I’d let you know. I’ll keep you updated.” Cormac Hayes messaged Cristina Yang about Meredith the moment he got the chance. He knew she’d want to know if something were to happen to her best friend. “Okay. Thanks.” Was all he got back from his former boss.

The next morning. “She woke up a little while ago, in case you want to facetime her. She’s tested positive for COVID. She’s not taking it very well.” He sent her the update. Not too long afterwards, she replied. “Ugh, seriously? Great. Just great. Um, okay. Yeah, I’ll facetime her. Thanks for letting me know. Get yourself tested as well. Also, she’s incredibly bitchy when she’s in the hospital, so word of advice: stay on her good side.” Cormac chuckled slightly at Cristina’s advice. “I’ll try my best” He responded. Seconds later, he got paged away, back to the peds floor. He didn’t want to leave Meredith, he certainly would’ve much rathered paging her to join him, in order to spend some time alone with her, and see her work her surgical magic. 

-

“Meredith has COVID.” Maggie said through tears once Alex picked up his phone. “Damnit. Damnit!” Alex yelled. “Please just tell me it’s a mild case.” Maggie sighed. “Well, she was found unconscious in the parking lot of the hospital, so I don’t know. I hope it’ll just be mild.” She told him truthfully. 

“You’re her power of attorney.” Maggie reminded him, after remembering herself. “I… I can’t. I would, if I could be there in person. I swear to god, I would in a heartbeat. But I can’t travel. She has to be okay.” Maggie closed her eyes and grimaced at Alex’s worry. “Does Yang know?” Alex finally said after a few moments of silence. “Uh, yeah. Hayes is keeping her updated.” On the other side of the phone, Alex looked confused. “Hayes? Who’s that? And how does he know Yang?” 

Maggie had forgotten that Alex had never gotten the chance to meet Hayes or co-chief with him because of his formerly unexplained absence. “Uh, long story, but I’ll try to make it short. He’s the new you. Chief of Peds, that is. He worked with Cristina in Switzerland, she sent him here, he and Meredith became friends. They’re... weirdly close.” Alex raised his eyebrows on the other end of the phone. “Hmm. I’ll have to give Yang a call later today. Okay, Pierce, I have to go, but keep me updated. Okay?” “Okay.” End call.

-

“Torres! How are you holding up in New York?” Miranda Bailey asked her former classmate. She knew that New York was hit hard by COVID. “It’s a madhouse here, Bailey. What about you?” Miranda silently shook her head as she went over every little issue in the hospital. “Oh! Hi Bailey!” Arizona Robbins’ voice piped up from the other end of the phone. “Hey Robbins. Uh, it’s crazy over here too. Grey just tested positive last night after being found unconscious and pulled off the pavement by our chief of peds. It feels like everything is on fire and we have no way of getting out.” She said, entering her office. The only place she could find some solace, and take off her mask within the hospital because she was alone. 

“Wait. Meredith has COVID? What?” Calliope’s voice quickly changed from frustrated with the state of the world, to an intense worry. “And Alex found her?” Arizona followed. “Yes, she did. And oh boy, is she pissed. And Arizona, no. Alex no longer works at Grey-Sloan. Cormac Hayes is our chief of pediatrics, he was recommended for the job by Cristina Yang. So, figures he’d be the one to find Meredith Grey passed out on the ground.” She said with a slight sarcastic undertone to her final sentence. “What?? What did Alex do now?” Arizona’s voice peaked. “Uh… he quit. And moved to Kansas. And divorced Jo to be with Izzie Stevens.” Callie let out a huge sigh and chuckled to herself, remembering when George had left her to be with Izzie. “You’re kidding…” Arizona said seriously. “I wish I was.” Bailey said. “Well, keep us updated on Meredith. Good luck out there.” Callie said, trying her best not to show how worried she was for her friends at Grey-Sloan. “Will do. You too, the both of you, stay safe.” End call. 

-

4 days later. Meredith was only getting worse. After facetiming with Meredith, Hayes picked up his phone again and dialed Cristina Yang’s number. He knew the time difference was insane, but he also knew that Yang wouldn’t care about the time when she heard the update about her friend. “Hayes, what the hell. It’s like, 3am.” Cristina scolded him as she wished about going back to sleep. “It’s Grey. She’s doing worse, Yang. I’ve tried my best to be there with her whenever I can, but god it’s so suffocating to see her deteriorate the way she is.” Cristina was now wide awake. “Hayes, this is Meredith Grey we’re talking about. She’s practically immortal. Compared to everything else she’s survived, this virus is nothing.” Hayes chuckled slightly at Cristina’s words. “You know, it’s funny. I told her that this virus had nothing on her as well.” The former colleagues went silent for a few moments. 

“She told me she’s scared to die.” Cormac finally said after he regained his train of thought. “You must be pretty special then. She doesn’t just open up like that to anybody.” Cristina said, smirking to herself at the other end of the line. Hearing Cristina say that made Cormac’s heart start to race, and the little internal butterflies appeared as he thought about his relationship with Meredith Grey. “Alright, I know it’s late. Get back to sleep. And for the love of god, don’t tell me that you’re afraid if you fall asleep you won’t wake up again, as well.” Cristina laughed slightly. “Keep me updated, and let me know if there’s anything I can do.” She ordered him. “Got it. Night, Yang.” Cristina yawned. “Night, Hayes. Keep an eye on my girl for me.” End call. 

-

“How’s she doing?” Alex’s rough morning voice rang through Maggie’s phone. “Not good, Alex. Her lungs, I mean- I just don’t know. It’s not promising for a speedy recovery.” She said, taking a deep breath. Sometimes, Maggie had to remind herself that she could breathe properly. Alex groaned on the other end of the phone call. “I hate this. I hate that she’s alone. She’s always had me, or Shepherd, or Yang by her side, laying with her on those hospital beds. Even if we were all there, she’d still be alone. I hate every single part of this.” Maggie sighed. She almost couldn’t handle the amount of anguish she was hearing from Alex. “Well, if it’s any consolation, even though we can’t lay with her, she’s not alone. Someone is always with her. If I’m not in the room, sitting beside her bed, Amelia will facetime her. Or Hayes will be in there, cracking jokes with her and distracting her. If he’s not on the peds floor, he’s with her. She also has all the people on her medical team, but I’m not sure if they really count since they have to go in there with her periodically. She’s not alone, Alex.”

A sigh of relief came from Alex. He was still pissed that no one could lay with her to comfort her, but it brought him some comfort to know that she had people looking out for her constantly that weren’t involved in her medical care. “This Hayes guy - I’ve heard quite a bit about him from Yang now that I’ve talked with her. Is he as good a friend as he’s made out to be? Does the rest of the staff like him, or is it just Mer?” Alex asked. “Well… he’s well liked among the staff. But Mer really seems to like him, and he seems to reciprocate it. They were always working together before the pandemic. I found out that he was the one who found her on the ground the night she passed out and tested positive. He is - a good friend to her. They get each other, and need each other on a whole other level than most of the rest of us.” Silence. “Think they’ll get together?” Alex asked after a few moments had passed. “If she survives, I hope so.” A pang hit Maggie’s heart as she uttered the words, ‘if she survives.’ The same pang hit Alex as he heard her say it. “I have to go, Alex.” Maggie said, as she felt tears forming in her eyes the more she thought about her sister’s condition. “Alright, talk later. Bye Pierce.” End call.

-

Incoming call. Callie Torres. Miranda picked up her phone, dreading the update she’d have to give Callie on Meredith. “Hey Torres.” She said as she answered the call. “Bailey! How’s Meredith doing?” Callie said happily, expecting a good response from Bailey. “I wish I had good news for you, Callie. Her lungs have gotten substantially worse, she collapsed again, she’s sleeping more often. She updated her power of attorney and her advanced directives. She’s preparing for the worst. If I’m being honest… I’m starting to as well.” A tear ran down both Bailey and Callie’s cheeks. “Have you talked to her at all?” Bailey inquired. “No. But I probably should, shouldn’t I?” Callie asked, shuddering as she thought about how she would feel if news got any worse. This was Meredith Grey, right? Basically immortal, stronger than a bull, always willing to put up the fight. Well, except for that day where she stopped fighting in the water and almost died after drowning in Elliot’s Bay, but Callie tried not to think about that day very often. “Yeah. You should.” Bailey said, grimacing at the thought of having to call anyone and tell them that Meredith had died. She hoped she’d never have to. “Alright. Thanks Bailey. I’ll talk to you later.”

-

“She’s in a coma.” A text that Cristina Yang, Calliope Torres, Arizona Robbins, and Alex Karev, amongst many others, received 2 days after they’d been informed of Meredith’s worsening condition. The amount of tears had been shed in the past 48 hours across both past and present staff at Grey-Sloan Memorial would surprise the average person. Everyone was worried as Meredith’s life hung in the balance. When Hayes had told Cristina that she was in a coma, he thought he may have heard her cry for the first time in the now almost 3 years of knowing her. When Maggie told Alex through broken sobs, all Alex could mutter was “Damnit. Damnit. Damnit.” over and over again. All he wanted was to be able to be there with her. Callie, Arizona, and Bailey broke down in tears together over the phone. Jackson had become a shell of himself, he couldn’t bring himself to cry when he updated April about their friend’s dire situation and heard her sobs.

-

1 week. It’d been 1 week since Cormac Hayes had gotten a text from Meredith Grey, heard her voice, or seen her eyes brighten as she smiled behind her mask. He kept thinking about their last surgery. Could that have been the last surgery they’d ever perform together? And their last conversation played in his head. “This virus has got nothing on you.” He’d told her. Did he just tell her that to ease his own mind? God, there was nothing more that Cormac Hayes wanted than to hear Meredith Grey say his name again. To tell him that he looked like crap again. His mind raced as he laid in his hotel room. He was away from his boys, and his closest friend at the hospital was hanging onto life by a thread. He couldn’t just keep lying there, letting his dark and twisty thoughts take hold of him. So, he got up and drove to the hospital. And he sat with Meredith in the dead of the night. The sound of her breathing comforted him. He was in full PPE, and he held her hand, praying that she would wake up. God, he needed her to wake up.

Hour 3 of his overnight stay in Meredith’s room - that he knew he’d probably get in trouble for, but frankly didn’t care too much about getting in trouble for, if it meant Meredith wasn’t alone while she fought for her life - Cormac Hayes called Cristina Yang. It was early morning there, and Hayes figured that even if Meredith couldn’t hear, Cristina would likely want to talk to her friend. “Hey. What’s up?” Cristina said as she answered her phone. “Not much, unfortunately. I wish I had news. I’m just sitting in her room with her now.” There was a lull in conversation. “So, why’d you call me then?” Cristina asked, curious as to why she’d get a call from Hayes if there was no update. “I’ve got you on speaker. I don’t know, I was hoping that maybe hearing your voice, if she can hear at all, would help her decide to live.” Cristina snickered to herself internally. “That’s sweet. And gross.” Cristina had just woken up, which was when her sarcasm was at its peak. “Yeah, I realized that once I said it.” He hit back. 

He didn’t know if it was the exhaustion hitting him, or an overwhelming sense of dread that filled the room, but Cormac admitted to Cristina, “I’m trying to be strong for her. When she was awake, everyone else around her just worried and worried and worried. She told me I was the only one who distracted her from the fact that she was sick. And I’ve been there for her sisters as best as possible, trying to be strong and distract them as I would her. But god, Yang, I’m so scared.” Cristina sighed. “I know. I am too. We just have to remember that this is Meredith. Hayes, you likely haven’t heard these stories, but she’s survived a bomb, a plane crash, a drowning, and so much more. She’s strong, and she’s going to die when she’s old, in a nursing home, and surrounded by love. She’s probably being convinced by Derek to live right now, if this time is anything like her drowning.” Cristina said, her softer side appearing, trying to convince both herself and Hayes that Meredith would be okay, eventually. “I know she’s strong. I see it every time she talks. But I still can’t help but worry. It feels too much like watching Abby slowly fade away from the cancer. She’s just too important to me, I can’t lose her. I can’t see another disease take away another woman that I…” Hayes caught himself before finishing his sentence. Unfortunately for him Cristina caught on to what he was going to say. “Love? Cormac Hayes, were you going to say that you love her?” Hayes didn’t respond, he only closed his eyes, bracing himself for the impact of whatever comment Cristina was going to make next. “Oh. My. God. You were. You were going to say love! Ha ha! Yes!” Cristina gloated and teased, since it was a good conversation deflection from the sad, sappy one that she and Hayes were previously sharing. 

“Alright, place that phone next to Meredith’s ear. I’m gonna talk some sense into her. She’ll listen to me, she always does.” Hayes chuckled, moving the phone closer to Meredith’s ear. “Alright, Mer, you gotta wake up. For the love of god. I know you’re listening. You’ve got too many people that love you, waiting for you to wake up. So as much as I’m sure that you’re enjoying hanging out with Derek, Lexie, Mark, George, and all the other people you’ve lost, you have too many more people on earth that need you more than them. Dying isn’t an option.” Hayes smiled and chuckled to himself as Meredith’s twisted sister gave her a pep talk that only she could. It restored his hope that she’d pull through. About 30 minutes later, he said goodbye to Cristina, not knowing that only 2 hours later, he’d be calling her again with one of the final updates he’d ever give to her about Meredith, because Meredith would be able to begin updating Cristina on her own. She’d woken up. 

He messaged Bailey, Richard, Maggie, Amelia, Teddy, Jackson, Link, and Owen in a group message as soon as her eyes fluttered open. He smiled breathlessly at her and she smiled weakly when she saw that he was in her room with her. He’d never been happier to see her smile. “Thank you, for deciding to live.” He said quietly. “Thank you for not speaking loudly.” She laughed to herself, a slight cough following. He laughed with her. His favourite thing to do. Laugh with Meredith Grey. Within 30 minutes, practically everyone knew that Meredith had woken up. There was joy in the hallways of Grey-Sloan Memorial for the first time since the pandemic started. Meredith grabbed Cormac’s hand and squeezed it as he continued to sit with her, talking to her about what she’d missed while she was out. They were glad to hear each other’s voices again. 

-

“She’s awake.” Maggie and Bailey texted Callie, Arizona, and Alex. Sighs of relief erupted from all 3 former Grey-Sloan surgeons. 

Meredith Grey still had a long road to recovery, but her waking up from her coma was a step in the right direction. Meredith had decided that once she was finally deemed eligible to leave the hospital and quarantine in a hotel, she wanted Cormac Hayes to stay with her. Andrew DeLuca was quite upset with this, he wanted Meredith to choose him, because he figured that he was already her doctor while she was in the hospital. However, she told him that it was only because Hayes wasn’t working on the COVID floor like Andrew was, where he was needed daily, as opposed to the peds unit, which was incredibly quiet and could be looked after by Jo. And this was all true, for the most part. But Meredith had her other reasons for asking Hayes to stay with her. Cormac, unknowing of Meredith’s true reason for asking him, of course, happily agreed. He would have agreed had he known her real reason as well. He’d been there when she’d first collapsed, then again when she needed someone to be vulnerable with, then again when she’d woken up. Now, he could be there to see her every step of the way to a full recovery and getting back to work. To him, any time he got to spend with Meredith after she woke up from her coma felt like a blessing, so he wasn’t going to pass up the offer to be with her, alone, every day, for 2 weeks straight. Meredith simply might have just casually neglected to mention that she chose him because she heard him talking to Cristina Yang the night she woke up, and heard him almost say that he loves her. Of course, she’d keep that little detail to herself til much, much later.

[purplesurveys]

1236

survey by lasertine

10 How's

How did you get one of your scars? I keep recounting the story of my eyebrow scar, so I’ll share something else...I have several scars on both my knees since I was the neighborhood’s clumsiest kid and ALWAYS tripped/stumbled when I played outside. I used to be extremely insecure of my legs, but started to stop caring as I gradually noticed that no one really gives a shit about scars from childhood accidents.

How did you celebrate your last birthday? I went to work, being the workaholic I am. I only celebrated in the evening, when I bought a week’s worth of food for my family and I to feast on. I was honestly fine with it; it was exactly how I wanted my birthday to go as I’ve stopped wanting to make a big deal out of it haha.

How are you feeling at this moment? Weirdly relaxed for a Sunday. The gloomy and cozy weather is probably helping with that.

How did your night go last night? As a fangirl, good! Got lots of new content which is always fun. As a person (lol), it was just fine. I like being able to recharge on weekends and I can never really complain even if I don’t end up doing anything productive.

How did you do in high school? I was a bit all over the place. I exerted some level of effort in my favorite classes but didn’t really do the same for subjects I didn’t care for as much, like home ec, chemistry, math, etc; but on average I managed to get good grades all throughout. Overall, I kinda acknowledged very early on that high school grades weren’t going to matter in the real world so I didn’t make it a point to overexert myself and just focused on having fun and making fond memories in those teen years.

How did you get the shirt you're wearing? I got it from Artwork, a local brand that sells various apparel sporting designs produced by local artists. The branch I got it from has since shut down but I believe the brand is still alive and well.

How often do you see your best friend? I used to see Angela once in a blue moon mainly because our schedules always clashed back when we were still students, but ever since forming our little Army friend group with Reena I’ve been seeing her nearly every week.

How much money did you spend last month? LOL June was actually my worst and most shameful performance when it came to spending...let’s move on...

How old do you want to be when you get married? Kinda happen it would happen by the time I’m in between the ages of 28 and 30, kind of losing hope on it.

How old will you be at your next birthday? 24.

NINE What’s

What is the most important part of your life? I’ve said this several times but it’s really work. I’m aware of my weaknesses at my job and I want nothing more than to improve on those just because my perfectionist ass can’t bear being bad at something I’m supposed to be contributing to lol.

What did you do last weekend? Last Saturday I  watched BTS’ concert in Sao Paulo and had my first session at my Korean class. Last Sunday I mostly chilled at home but I also went to Starbucks to work for a bit but to also just relax before the week started.

What did you last cry over? Watching Angela and Reena’s graduation ceremony this afternoon. It’s hilarious because I didn’t even cry during and was mostly indifferent towards my own grad, but I surprised myself by breaking into tears while watching theirs. I’m guessing the emotions simply welled up from me being very grateful for our friendship, which formed when I needed it the most.

What are you worried about? I always get Monday anxiety on Sundays, so let’s go with that.

What is your mother’s name? Abby.

What always makes you feel better when you’re upset? BTS, for one.

What would you rather be doing? It’s not a matter of what I would rather be doing, but where I would rather be. And right now, I wish I was back on a Friday evening with the weekend just about to start.

What’s the most important thing you look for in a significant other? Patience.

What did you have for breakfast? My mom cooked up a feast for today’s breakfast for no reason - we had fried rice, tocino, I think bangus(?) and if not bangus then it was some other kind of fish, corned beef, cheese omelette, glazed ham, bacon strips, and the leftover chicken wings from last night’s dinner.

EIGHT Have You’s

Have you ever done something outrageously dumb? I probably do something of the sort at least once a day.

Have you ever had sex on the beach? No. I think I might feel uncomfortable doing so, even if you told me it would be a private beach lol. 

Have you ever been backstabbed by a friend? Yes.

Have you ever been out of the country? Yup, but it’s been a while. :( I haven’t traveled abroad since 2016.

Have you ever dated someone younger than you? It barely counts; she was only like a month and half younger.

Have you ever liked someone who already had somebody? That hasn’t happened.

Have you ever been brokenhearted? Of course.

Have you ever read an entire book in one day? Many times.

SEVEN Who’s:

Who is the last person you saw? My dad. He was watching the evening news in his room when I heard the report playing Permission to Dance so I rushed in there to see what the news was going to be about, hahahaha.

Who is the last person that you texted? ...also my dad. I was just asking him where he was since I had been craving chapaguri the other day and was gonna request if he can quickly pass by the Korean mart near our village. He never replied so I just cooked the instant noodles that we have at home, which in hindsight was I guess for the better because at least I got to save the money I would’ve paid him with.

Who called you last? The Lalamove driver I mentioned on the previous survey.

Who is the last person you hung out with? Angela, Reena, and Hans.

Who did you hug last? Angela, right before I left from her place last Tuesday.

Who is the last person that texted you? Not sure.

Who was the las person you said "I love you" to? Yumi, when I congratulated her on her graduation post.

SIX Where’s:

Where does your best friend live? The city next to mine.

Where is your favorite place to be? Either a coffee shop or our rooftop.

Where did you sleep last night? My bed.

Where did you last hang out? Mega with the three aforementioned friends.

Where do/did you go to school? UP.

Where did you last adventure to? ...Mega. So repetitive hahaha but I don’t really go out much these days for obvious reasons.

FIVE Do’s/Does:

Do you ever wish you were someone else? Not someone else in particular but I will sometimes daydream about having a different reality/situation, like being able to play an instrument or being more capable of affording more things.

Do you think anyone despises you? Possibly.

Do you like someone right now? Nopes.

Does the future scare you? It doesn’t scare me so much as it’s increasingly starting to make me feel lonelier whenever I start thinking about it.

Do you have any secret powers? Erm, no.

FOUR Why’s:

Why are you best friends with your best friend(s)? They’ve both been there through the thick and the thin and the ugly with me and have never once left my side.

Why did your parents give you the name you have? As for both my names, they just liked the sound of them.

Why did you get a myspace? Because I noticed it was popular and I wanted to see what the fuss was about.

Why are you doing this survey? Countdown surveys are always a fun format.

THREE If’s:

If you could have one super power what would it be? Time travel.

If you could go back in time and change one thing, would you? If it comes down to it, as irresistible as it seems, probably not.

If you could live anywhere, where would it be? Somewhere with winter/snow.

Two Would-you-ever’s:

Would you ever shave your head to save someone you love? I’m struggling to think how that can action save someone, but I guess if it ever does boil down to it then yeah, in a heartbeat. It grows back and if the situation was that drastic, hair would be the least of my concerns.

Would you ever get back together with any of your exes if they asked you? Depends.

Last one:

Are you happy with how your life has turned out? Very.

[ragnarachael]

Hi! Are you still taking requests for Peter? Your Parker!Reader verse is ssooooo Good!! Can I request one where before Morgan is born, Tony sees Reader taking care of Peter who's Idk sick or something? And he finds it really cute and fluffy cause you're cuddling cause Peter is a cuddle bear and then Tony's like lEt's hAvE kIdS. You don't have to tbh 💙💙

CHIQUITITA, TELL ME WHAT’S WRONG

Pairing: Peter Parker x Sister!Reader, Tony Stark x Parker!Reader

Word Count: 1,508

Summary: Peter's sick and barely singing along to Mamma Mia. You take it upon yourself as Peter's sister to try and make him feel better. Tony helps the best he can before he’s off to a meeting. Later in the day, he accidentally brings up a topic you've yet to discuss in your relationship.

Author’s Ramblings: i went a little wild with this so... whoops. i really should put this series in order, but i’m far too lazy to even think about that at the moment. after this i’m posting the last 3 wip guessing game asks and then going back to work on THE fic! (also i’m trying out this new formatting for when i write whole oneshots instead of drabbles, don’t mind me)

Peter was sick. Peter Benjamin Parker, who proclaimed that he never got sick—which was frankly a lie, due to your family’s history of shitty immune systems—was sick and whining as he lounged around on the couch of the Avenger’s Compound.

He was leaning on Thor’s shoulder while he kept two separate tissues up both sides of his nose, Mamma Mia blaring on the flat screen in front of them. Thor seemed to be enjoying himself, his head moving along with the rhythm of the song that had been playing. You observed them both as you sipped on your coffee. Peter was quietly mumbling the lyrics to the song that was currently playing, sounding like he was in some weird state of delirium.

That’s what worried you. When you watch Mamma Mia with your brother, he’s electric. Usually, he’s up on his feet, doing most of the choreography, singing the male vocals almost perfectly; he’s never not sitting and barely bopping to the music.

“Hey Pete,” you said gently from where you stood near the kitchen island, moving a bit to let Tony get by you to grab a mug, “you okay?”

All Peter did in response was hold a thumbs up over the edge of the couch.

You sighed, placing your coffee mug down on the countertop before slipping past Tony and dodging Steve as you headed to where Peter and Thor were sitting.

There was no hesitation in your laughter when you saw how Peter solved his nose dripping problem. It’s exactly what you do and you completely get what May meant when she said the two of you were almost the same person.

“Peter,” you started, squatting down to meet his eyes, “did you take some medicine?”

“Yeah,” he huffed out, feeling around to his left to grab his bottle of water he had with him. “I took some.”

“How long ago?” You asked, reaching a hand up to press it against his forehead. You clicked your tongue. He had a fever for sure and with his luck, it’s probably rising.

Peter shrugged as he kept watching the TV screen, resting his chin on the top of his bottle.

You glanced over at Thor with a questioning look. Thor returned it just as the music to the scene that was playing stopped.

“What?”

“Were you awake with him when he took the medicine, Thor?”

“No. Loki and I returned from Asgard just over an hour ago.”

You nodded and gave him a smile, turning your gaze back to your baby brother. Emphasis on the baby.

“How’s about I take you to your room and I’ll make some soup for you? That sound good, bubba?”

Peter didn’t even have to say yes or no because you were gently pulling him up from the couch with little struggle, slinging his arm around your shoulders so you could guide him back to his room. 

He was groaning quietly the whole way, mumbling stuff about Mamma Mia and Thor being comfortable. Just before you could get into the hallway with Peter, you nudged your head into the hall in Tony’s direction to get his help.

You continued trying to hold all of Peter’s weight yourself before Tony was coming to your rescue, throwing the other arm over his shoulders.

“Don’t worry champ, we’ve got ya,” he said reassuringly, a hand splayed in between his shoulders.

Eventually, you got Peter in bed and instructed Tony to get all of his things he brought out to the couch while you got on making the soup you mentioned earlier.

Part of you wished May was back in town so you didn’t have to care for Peter like this, since you couldn’t always handle how whiny your brother gets when he’s sick, but another part of you didn’t care that much. You weirdly enjoyed doing this as of late, and you couldn’t place it.

Once the soup was done, you got a bowl and spoon together for Peter and carefully navigated your way back to Peter’s room, telling whoever you passed that there’s soup, if they wanted any.

Tony was lounging in Peter’s bed, staring at one of the walls that seemed to have Star Wars projecting on it.

Your heart skipped a beat when you saw how soft Tony looked with Peter in this moment. Even though Tony was still dressed up for a meeting he had within the next hour, he looked so cozy.

“Hey,” you said, kicking the door open wider with your foot, “I got the soup. You’re free to go.”

Tony’s eyes were still on the projection of the movie as he replied with a grunt.

You couldn’t hide your chuckle as you placed the bowl of soup down and gently tug his rolled up sleeve. “Mr. Stark, you’re needed elsewhere.”

Tony immediately looked at you thanks to that title and gave you a pout.

“It’s the best part!”

“It’s literally the opening credits. You’ve got a meeting,” you replied sternly, trying not to let the way Peter looked when you started to gently peel him from Tony’s chest pull on your heart strings.

“Fine, fine! I won’t have Pepper call it off,” Tony relented as you kept trying to get him to leave as he dramatically resisted to get Peter to laugh. You could hear your brother laughing the same time as you when you finally got Tony to the doorway.

“Behave, Tony.”

“What’s in it for me if I do?” He asked, raising a brow as he lowered his vocal register. You knew what he was doing, and you weren’t going to let it work.

“Go, Tony.” You pressed your lips to his and pulled away before he could grab you and pull you closer. “Or I’m going to break some of your tech again.”

“Can you take this away from me?” Peter asked loudly, with a bit of energy. You turned to look at him, raising a brow.

“You’re supposed to be sick, y’know.”

“I am,” Peter heaved, starting to reach for the soup you left on the nightstand, “doesn’t mean I can’t talk. Now can I please have someone watch Star Wars with me?”

You sighed and rubbed a hand over your face, giving Tony one last look for him to get lost before turning back around and quickly passing Peter the bowl of soup he’s still reaching for. 

Tony stayed in the doorway for a moment, watching you walk away before letting a dramatic sigh out, starting to slink down the hall back to the main living space.

Peter actually ate all of the soup, to your surprise. Although he did sip at the broth during the first Star Wars movie before actually eating the noodles and extra things you put in that you knew he’d eat. But he still ate it, and that’s all that mattered.

When Tony came back to check on the two of you after his meeting, he caught the both of you dozed off as the third movie started to play. Peter’s head was resting on your shoulder, his face smushed into your collarbone while your head was resting against the pillows. Your arms were wrapped around him protectively while it looked like Peter was trying to make his body morph into yours.

He had his legs tangled with yours, almost like you were playing twister. It was then Tony remembered that Peter liked sleeping in weird positions like that.

The kid was weird, but he loved him anyway.

Tony couldn’t place why his mind was going haywire over the fact of you cuddling with your brother, it might just be because it was so cute. Both of you were adorable in your own rights, and it was tugging some thought from the crevices of his mind.

“Tony?” You questioned with your sleep filled tone, sitting up slightly, only stopping when Peter shifted his face on your shoulder.

Tony didn’t hold back the smile he had for you and carefully walked farther into the room, leaning down to press a kiss to your forehead. “Hey, dear.”

“How’d the meeting go?”

“It went,” Tony replied, not at all thinking before speaking, “you’re great with kids.”

You tilted your head in confusion, pulling one of your arms from Peter to rub at your eye. “Kids?”

Tony shook his head instantly, not wanting to get on that topic right now. With Peter in the room? It’s a dangerous shot to take.

“Forget I said anything, you’re dreaming, this is a dream,” Tony recovered quickly, which caused you to let out a quiet laugh.

“We’re talking about that later, Stark.”

“What? Talking about kids? What’re kids?”

“Babe—”

Tony cut you off again, continuing to pretend you weren’t asking questions about what he said, gently moving to sit on the emptiest edge of the bed possible as you tried to smother your laughter.

Finally, you decided to play along, just so he could join you and Peter in bed for a nap. However, you’re definitely pressing on the whole “kids” topic later.

[wtf-triassic]

Rutiodon

By Ripley Cook

Etymology: Wrinkle Tooth 

First Described By: Emmons, 1856

Classification: Biota, Archaea, Proteoarchaeota, Asgardarchaeota, Eukaryota, Neokaryota, Scotokaryota Opimoda, Podiata, Amorphea, Obazoa, Opisthokonta, Holozoa, Filozoa, Choanozoa, Animalia, Eumetazoa, Parahoxozoa, Bilateria, Nephrozoa, Deuterostomia, Chordata, Olfactores, Vertebrata, Craniata, Gnathostomata, Eugnathostomata, Osteichthyes, Sarcopterygii, Rhipidistia, Tetrapodomorpha, Eotetrapodiformes, Elpistostegalia, Stegocephalia, Tetrapoda, Reptiliomorpha, Amniota, Sauropsida, Eureptilia, Romeriida, Diapsida, Neodiapsida, Sauria, Archosauromorpha, Crocopoda, Archosauriformes, Eucrocopoda, Crurotarsi, Archosauria?, Pseudosuchia?, Phytosauria, Parasuchidae, Mystriosuchinae 

Referred Species: R. carolinensis, R. manhattanensis 

Status: Extinct 

Time and Place: Sometime between 227 and 208.5 million years ago, in the Norian of the Late Triassic

Rutiodon is primarily known from the Eastern United States; there are reports from Canada, as well, but these are more dubious. All reports from the Chinle Formation that were once assigned to Rutiodon have since been given their own names. It is known from the Blue Bell Quarry and the New Oxford Formation of Pennsylvania, the Cumnock and Pekin Formations of North Carolina, and the Ewing Creek Member of the Lockatong Formation and the Passaic Formation of New Jersey.

Physical Description: Rutiodon was a Phytosaur, so naturally it looked ridiculously similar to modern crocodilians - and wasn’t one in the slightest. In fact, Phytosaurs and Crocodilians have a major difference - they had their nostrils far back on the head, close to the eyes, rather than on the tip of the snout. Rutiodon itself was very long, between 3 and 8 meters in body length, making it one of the largest animals in its environment. It had a very long, narrow jaw, with large teeth inside that grew much bigger at the front of the jaw. Weirdly enough, it was covered in armored plates like modern crocodilians on its back, sides, and tail, though this is a clear-cut case of convergent evolution - Crocodilians evolved from completely different Triassic reptiles. Rutiodon had a long tail, a squat body, and legs splayed out to the sides, just enhancing how much it resembled living crocodilians. 

Diet: Rutiodon would have fed on small animals and fish in its environment, using the hook in its jaw as well as the large teeth to grab onto struggling prey and hold it steady.

Behavior: Despite its uncanny resemblance to living crocodilians, it is difficult to determine whether or not Phytosaurs such as Rutiodon would have actually behaved like them. While being an ambush predator in the water it called home makes a certain amount of sense, that sense is primarily based on its resemblance to living analogues. That said, it’s also possible that the extreme length of its mouth would have aided Rutiodon in reaching and grabbing food that would be out of reach for a more snort-shouted animal (such as the large predatory amphibians that it shared a home with). It probably would have taken care of its young, though if it was more social than that it would have been more out of convenience than anything else. That said, Rutiodon seems to have been quite common, so groups of “I guess we’re all in this place together” may have been very common and a large annoyance to animals in the area trying to move through unscathed. 

Ecosystem: In general, Rutiodon lived in lake environments, usually near forests with decent amounts of water present beyond the lake. Flooding and swamp-like conditions were probably favored by this genus, based on its fossil neighbors. It was found in lakes, river deltas, and floodplains that would frequently turn into extremely overflowed swamps. In the Cumnock Environment of North Carolina, it lived alongside the large amphibian Dictyocephalus, as well as therapsids like Dromatherium and Microconodon and a variety of fish and unnamed reptiles. In the New Oxford Formation of Pennsylvania, it lived alongside another large amphibian - Koskinodon - as well as the fish Synorichthys, and potentially other Phytosaurs like Suchoprion and Palaeoctonus. Finally, in Lockatong, it lived with the Tanystropheid Tanytrachelos, the Kuehneosaurid Icarosaurus, the Protorosaur Hypuronector, the Rhynchosaurid Rhynchosauroides, unnamed dinosaurs, another Metoposaurid, and a variety of fish like Diplurus, Synorichthys, Turseodus, and Osteopleurus. All that fish would have made an excellent source of food for Rutiodon, along with those small Therapsids! 

Other: Phytosaurs like Rutiodon are a fun group of creatures that actually come in a wide variety of shapes and sizes, and aren’t all so similar to Crocodilians - they had weaker ankyls, no bony structure in the mouth to aid in breathing while underwater (though they may have had a fleshy one), and they actually had even more armor than crocodilians. That said, there is a chance Rutiodon and relatives are… stem-Crocodilians. What this means is, that living Crocodilians are their closest modern relatives. This is a subject of hot debate - they’re either the earliest branching members of the Crocodile-Relative group, or they’re closely but equally related to all modern archosaurs (so, they’d be equally Crocodile - and equally bird!) More research on these animals are sure to reveal further insights into their place in the evolution of the ruling reptiles. 

~ By Meig Dickson

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