#guess I can put the kids' names in the tags for easier post finding

[plasticfangtastic]

American Royalty. Ch. 8

A Homelander X F!Reader/ Dadlander fanfic.

A/N: Should be posting ch. 9 soon, thank you for reading and if you wish to be added to the taglist plz let me know in the comments, prev. chapters in my masterlist pin post and below... should be fixing my pin post soon to make it easier to find.

Tags: Mild gore, angst, slow burn, fluff, oc characther, child neglect, dadlander, romance.

Chapter Eight

Whisky

Being asked to leave by morning had been upsetting, but he was smart enough to know it was too soon... things had to be more formal before introducing this new stage of your lives to your children, admittedly he could tell something was off but as long as it didn’t ruin his plans he would pretend not to care, he loved the sex, and this feeling of fullfiment brewing inside him.

You were just as he had left you, every reaction just as he remembered, his only disappointment was not finding any milk in you, you taunting as he suckled with the facts he had missed out on just how full and amazing they had been when Helena was still feeding, even mentioning you had taken photos– for your boobs did look incredible. 

He parted after bruising your lips with his own, wanting to kiss you more, almost getting lost as he prodded for another round, you would have given in but as the neighbors woke up, you pushed him gently saying goodbye with a peck and the flutter of your eyelashes against his skin.

 But as he stared at your face before leaving, some improper desires clouded his vision, his own fantasies materializing as he headed home.

He left feeling starved, wanting to feast so desperately... wanting to see you again.

You sat on your kitchen bench, holding a bowl of oatmeal feeling sick, it had felt good, god it did– when was the last time you felt that good? And he could go on for hours with that mouth of his… but the weight of your actions had proven bitter on your tongue.

It was the natural course of things after all…

You didn’t need to love him, you just needed him to love you.

You just needed to win him over, no matter how dirty the tricks you had to use.

But as the little wannabe murderer walked into the kitchen, you fantasized of running away, far where nobody could find you… it made you sick, to feel this way... when you loved only her.

“So here’s the deal… I am going to push myself to be the best step-mother candidate he’s ever seen, I am going to get that asshole to be your dad and you are going to become part of the best fucking Superhero tag-team that ever graced this cursed fucking country! I want you better than the TNT twins, The Marvels and Legacy!” You hopped off the bench– Phantasma and Poltergeist will be household names!” You turned to her putting the bowl down– Helena you better get yourself so deeply rooted inside those labs that they will not know how to move a pen or take a shit without your input! So from now on we work together, no more improv.”

Helena was a tad surprised as she formed a stepping stool to take a serving of fresh oatmeal off the stove.

“I am glad we can see eye to eye, mother.” She took cinnamon and honey, building her breakfast as she watched you closely– I don’t think Elmo’s parents are going to like me after yesterday… had enough time to muse on that mistake last night.” she sounded apologetic.

“Leave it to me. Nigel and Sven will come around. Who wouldn’t want their kid to team up with The Homelander’s kid. Fuck I’ll even have your father make them work with us if that’s what it takes!” You spat.

Helena seemed pleased with herself as she heard you, proud that you would use the man if you had to, guess she had learned this from somebody afterall.

You didn’t take the day off, you had no time to waste in the end.

Ashley was busy, too many reports to read and correct, too many people to manage, and her research had finally bare some interesting results, she sunk in her chair giving herself a couple minutes to spare for this news preparing for the worse– Homelander had in fact impregnated at least 2 other women over the years. One had died tragically mid-pregnancy from a genuine freak accident, and the other had an abortion six weeks into her pregnancy, by sheer luck only you and Becca Saunders had won the lotto– that was one less headache on her plate, she care not for Saunders leaving that page behind with the legacy of Stan Edgar, content to just having Ryan around as proof that woman ever existed… You on the other hand, she felt sorry for, he had been honest with Ashley about your time together and reading the reports of his vendetta made her frustrated-- why he simply didn’t kill you back then… perhaps it would’ve been a mercy if he had killed you, wanting to see you suffer first.

So when she saw you walk into her office in the middle of the day, she took out the Advil.

“I thought I had to make an appointment for these things” You said.

“I've been waiting for you– take a seat please.”

Her expression seemed genuinely kind.

“What can I do for you?”

“Homelander… What is he writing? I have no choice but to agree, but I don’t really want to ask him just in case he skirts thru the important details… if he deceives me for no reason”

Ashley had the script draft on her cabinet but she wouldn’t hand it to you.

“Is simple… you and him had a torrid and turbulent on-and-off secret relationship, after Ryan was born he gained primary custody, then you guys got back together because you’re bad for each other and unable to leave one another for too long…you had Helena soon after you broke up– It will be spicy and romantic! lovers that just can’t get enough– a match made in hell!! Oh god it would be so dramatic, people are just gonna eat it up! anyhoo… you found yourself keeping Helena.” She swallowed looking down at her keyboard– There's a lot of little details we are working on for consistency. Already got a pre-production team looking at sets for photoshoots and we already have some cute babies in mind to play Helena and Ryan for some supplemental family videos and pictures.”

“I didn’t know him until after his kid was born… actually.” You did the math in your head there for a second for the first time, Ryan was tall– massive for his age. You assumed he was 12 or 13 at first glance, it stayed that way until you were told otherwise, Helena was on the other hand short, you still clung to a spurt growth down the line so your mind hadn’t noticed just how close they were in age– that motherfucker cheated on me!”

For all the grief he would give you, he hadn’t even hesitated to do the same.

Ashley sank in her chair.

“I assume you two would like to talk to him…” she bit her lips– we really need you, and your daughter… you won’t change your mind, right?” she cringed.

“Whatever…” You might as well have been cursing– I’ll do it but what is in it for me?” You tap your foot eager to run and leave.

“You will be financially compensated and have our very top in-charge of Phantasma… Homelander informed me of your plans. I’m thinking of giving her a team for when she debuts, got a couple talents that I'm sure could make a fantastic team alongside her when they become of age!” She spread her hands in arch to announce her grand vision– ‘Teenage Kix: The new order!’ We retired the name after the second iteration sold so poorly… but I can just imagine an all female team, and I guess one boy… of rebels with a cause! The next generation!” she says gleefully– We have been trying to increase our overseas Supe presence… so this new team would be a great launching pad for Vought!”

You looked at her with mild distress as she got all excited, clearly he had been talking without you around, for god knows how long.

“We got this nine-year old in Japan and this eleven year old Sudanese girl in France… their powers are so incredible, it would be a waste if we leave them as simple local celebs instead of bringing them to the global forum… to have them spearhead the most inclusive and international team Vought ever produced, heck we never even had an all-female team so Helena being captain would be historic!”

She dug through her cabinets to hand you photographs of those two little girls, you just saw girls much like your own, one with spider powers and one that could make vivid illusions according to the short report presented.

“I guess… and Ryan?”

Her excitement died immediately.

“Ryan would debut solo… but–” Ashley realized what you meant, pushing the CEO aside and forcibly bringing back Ashley to the front– We were hoping you and Homelander could take care of that whole family situation… we really don’t want this to go south… but Homelander well–

“He’s impatient and an asshole. I get it… I’ll talk to him.” You said while pushing the photos back at her– you have my full cooperation.”

Ashley said nothing when you left grinding your teeth as you pushed your chair back and headed out the door.

Marching towards 99th, he was in a meeting with The Seven at the sight of you, his serious expression softened demanding the room to be left alone for you, noting that crease on your nose with concern, you walked past them, his step was light as he basically frolicked towards you as you both gained privacy and just as he was at arm's length readying himself for a kiss– you smashed your fist on his face.

You squealed behind gritted teeth, clutching at your hand, beating in pain, your bones aching and your muscles on fire, huffing and cursing spit, blood dripping down onto the ground as you squeezed your injured hand, unsure if bones had broken, looking up your face boiling and shaky, as your hand swelled up.

“Ouch.” He said nonchalantly, tilting his head to try and catch a still glimpse of your hand– "you have no broken bones… but I’ll get you some ice.”

“Fuck you.” you hissed.

“What did I do now?” He took your hand by force, his voice winging as he spoke to you, pressing your fingers open to inspect the torn skin on your knuckles– do you feel better now?”

“You cheated on me!”

“What?” He blinked a couple times unsure as to what you meant– we aren’t… are we?”

“Becca.” You spat her name burning your tongue with the vowels– you fucked her when you were dating me! All the bullshit you did to me over “cheating”, everything you did to me you did while fucking some whore on the side!! You hypocritical piece of shit!! You fucked her and got her pregnant while you were with me!!” You shouted.

Homelander bit his lips, giving it a loud smack as he paced himself around you.

“We weren’t serious when that happened…” He said in a nervous tone.

“In what world do you live in where me calling you my ‘boyfriend’ and you calling me your girlfriend two months in– doesn’t mean you are my boyfriend you fucking bastard!!” Your throat cracked– you… you’re unbelievable… what happened last night… that was a mistake!” You cried in pain, squeezing your wounded hand.

“I was with Maeve when I started dating you, and that wasn’t a secret! Pardon me for thinking we weren’t serious but after Maeve and I broke up four months into ‘US’-- then that's when you and I were serious!!” He tugged at your wounded hand forcing you closer, you twisted and cried as he squeezed the wounds– Becca was a one night stand. Nothing just a couple hours of shit sex… Maeve and I weren’t doing anything… you… you were special… different.” he stuttered.

“What do you mean by that? You said Maeve was just a PR stunt to drive-up sales.” Your hand no longer bothered you, your mouth quivering lightly as a hole built itself inside your core.

“She had her stupid dyke girlfriend on the side… always moping about her as if I couldn’t hear her… It all stopped mattering after you– I know I was a whore. But once I met you. I decided I was going to become an ‘honest’ man for you.” He softened his grip on you, yet keeping you close, unable to leave you alone– I dreamt of us getting married in this lovely old church in Guatemala, of a life together, so I moved on from her– and Becca… just a blip. just a hole. Not you.”

“That’s a pretty way to say I was your mistress.” You could’ve cried, but he didn’t deserve to see you like that anymore, you couldn't dare letting him think he could comfort you, if you did.

“I never saw you in such manner… you were my Y/N… not my mistress… not once were you that to me… You were the one” he said genuinely upset, as you tried to taint those bittersweet memories even further– that’s the truth.”

You pushed him away floating to the nearest chair just to slump, as your legs began to give in, as the pain in your hand competed with the one in your chest.

“Before I run off up the stairs and throw myself down 99 floors– just tell me… is there any other life altering truths you wish to bestow upon me that you had so kindly sheltered me from besides informing me I was a secret homewrecker.”

“You aren’t going to kill yourself, right?” He was panicking inside.

“Piss off… now spit it out.” You looked away thinking solely of the door, and the tempting window.

“You know how I told you Becca was held captive– He blubbered nervously, his chin moving too much, his posture all twitchy– where they kept Ryan.”

“Yeah in a sound stage, what about it?” You replied frankly annoyed.

“Her husband thought I murdered her but she was alive this whole time and thought I did it– so he’s like my mortal enemy, and he even brought my dad to kill me– That terrorist attack was him and my dad. William Butcher and Soldier Boy plus Maeve came after me… but after my father tried to kill Ryan we had a truce… he’s been quiet but I still think he’s planning something… I also let that plane drop, couldn’t have saved them… could’ve saved some… but there’s a really bad video that could ruin me from that day… I also sheltered that headpopper from a while ago, and so many murders…”

“Soldier boy? Father?” You stared at him in confusion.

“My deadbeat dad.”

“WHAT!!!??” You jumped on your feet, the chair sliding rapidly behind you– wait isn’t that Butcher dude the guy who killed Stillwell!?”

“Yes… also Becca’s husband and I guess Ryan’s stepfather.” he said bitterly– "you don’t care about the other things?” He sounded anxious for a moment.

“Why would I!? We already discussed that years ago!” You responded apathetically to the situation, him killing had never been an issue– So you fucked some married floosy like the whore you are and drove a man insane… Helena and Ryan go to a very easily accessible school and you are telling me a serial killer-slash-terrorist you’ve been antagonizing for years is still out-there!! A guy who fucking brought a super-terrorist to US soil!!!”

“He would not dare to put a hand on them.” he scoffed at the idea, finding it beyond absurd.

“You mean he wouldn’t hurt Ryan.” you said, pushing the bile down your throat.

“Nothing nor anybody will hurt Helena… I promise.” His expression was confident– I can have a security detail keep an eye on her when she’s at school after we go public… thanks for agreeing with Ashley. I was thinking you, me and the kids can go have dinner tomorrow and break the news to them.”

You shot him dirty looks.

“Our kids could still be in danger. Why did you send them to school and not homeschooled them!!?” you argued, your voice turnign frayed– Are you insane!! They cannot be outside!”

“No!” He shouted– I will not deny my son of the childhood I never was allowed to have! I AM NOT going to be like Voguebaum!” He snapped shouting back at you.

You had to control your breathing, waiting for him to calm down as those red flares coloured your skin, he struggled with his labored breathing, brushing his temples as he relaxed, and you found somewhere else to shrink into.

“You literally let me come all the way here to break my hand.” You slouched on your new seat, chuckling lightly as you wiped some blood off on your pants.

“Is not broken.” he chuckled back– thought you just spit on me again.”

His mood straightened back to normal forcing a tad limp smile.

“I might after I get a drink… be a good boy and fetch mommy a scotch.” He did so obediently, you admired the city skylines as you waited for your drink, you took a quick sip before throwing it at his crotch– bitch ass.”

“Did that feel good?’ A little light reflected on your glass.

“A little bit” You giggled staring at the ‘piss’ stain on his crotch– don’t think we are fucking ever again” You growled– I’ll do my best Lorelai Gillmore impersonation and you’ll play the charming and faithful husband… I’ll help you raise your kid and you can help raise ours but we will never be together.”

“Only for the camera and around the kids… I guess we can go all 1950’s and have two nice little beds in our bedroom– maybe a blowjob for my birthday and whatever you want for yours.” He sounded as he was joking but you weren’t certain.

“Depends how nice of a wedding you had in mind. Otherwise I hope your stock up on tenga eggs” You threw the glass to the ground, letting it shattered by his boot– I wish you had been John Gillman all along and not Homelander… I wanted to marry that guy… there was this little place near my old house, a nice little park with lots of flowers…”

You had loved that memory, as embarassing tears returned, you now had no idea who was the man you had wanted all those years ago, everything built on lies, that younger you that had been ignorant was the happiest you’ve been, now you wish you could return to just being an overworked single mum, wished you could just look back at those days and still find glee if you tried… you wouldn’t dare complain anymore if you could.

“I’ll buy a million flowers just for you– picture this a carpet of flower petals as you walk down the aisle in a custom Lhullier gown, chiffon all over the ceiling, and chandeliers illuminating the roof of an antique church… Helena playing the piano, the whole world looking at you. So dinner?”

You gave him a sordid smile, more curious as to how he supposedly knew bridal designers– unable to shake up the picture of his bedroom housing a bunch of wedding magazines under his bed instead of porn.

“Let’s go to Junior’s– lovely family restaurant…" and full with people... lots of people, so he will behave-- and please don’t dress so fancy… just wear a baseball shirt and some khakis like a normal person.” You got up, your head heavier than your heart, aching more than your eyes– why didn’t you kill me a minute ago?”

“I am not making the same mistakes I did with Becca or Maeve, and you are angry… you’ll come around.” He pulled at you lifting your chin– so marry me, and make it official-official.”

“Sure. Okay. I’ll marry you. Why the fuck not?– am looking forward to a lifetime of celibacy while you fuck around all accross the tri-state area.” You sniffed a tad– love being a femcel.”

“Oh don’t be like that… my cock is all yours, just put a bag over my head and hate fuck me like a normal person, stupid– You know I can hold my breath real good.” He purred.

You gave his body a quick up-and-down, thinking of last night, he certainly was easy on the eyes, and still made sure to give you a happy ending.

“I almost think you will be happy with that.” you look at him confusedly, was he so desperate to keep you he would whore himself out so cheaply?-- just you and me playing house… is that all you want, really?”

“Well after last night, and after hanging out with Ryan and Helena together… I think I want another one.”

“Another what?”

“Kid.”

“Okay whatever”

His expression puzzled you, that wavy smile and the loud cogs in his brain working overtime as he realized that this was an event actually taking place and not a rehearsed and overplayed fantasy scenario, he had never anticipated your response, he had never expected the earnest response, it had only hit him… that you two had just gotten engaged.

He turned you around pushing you out the door.

Guess this wasn’t a cheap fuck from the local crackhead after all, as you realized you might've just agreed to have another kid... even if the odds weren't stacked in his favour.

“A son preferably” he spoke before disappearing at hyperspeed, leaving your hair glued to your face.

You broke down in laughter and tears, caught in a storm but it was absolutely hilarious nevertheless, people gawked at you as you cried and cackled by the foot of the metal statue.

You took your phone and googled the designer and gosh the work was fucking gorgeous, you made a note to have Helena break into his house to look for those bridal magazines later.

Homelander was choking on nothing, collapsed in his bedroom as his heart was about to explode, he couldn’t believe himself.

“You fucking imbecile! How are you so stupid!!?” The voice yelled at him, he recoiled, making himself small in the foot of his bed– you… you… goddammit tiger… how could you do such a thing” The voice was softer now.

“I didn’t think she would say yes so nonchalantly!” He cried.

“We didn’t even have a mariachi band! No flowers… god that was so ugly and cheap! So fucking embarassing.”

“But we got engaged didn’t we!?”

“Fake-engaged… send her flowers and go get a ring... make it real you cheap fuck!"

He nodded softly at his reflection, finally calming down, thinking he had actually done something right.

“A wife… finally a wife… and she can’t leave me… she can’t…” he whispered– so… we did it.”

“Don’t celebrate, she might change her mind.”

“Thought I was a pessimist,” he joked.

By night when you reached home there would be multiple knocks on your door, men carrying extravagant flower arrangements right after the other, even waking you up the next morning with carnations. Helena seemed pleased with your developments even if it made her nose a little itchy thst the house smelled like spring.

Leaving cards saying “thank you and I love you.”  for you to read.

It was cute, but excessive.

Homelander stared at the 30+ different cake options and the endless pages of the overwhelming restaurant menu, thinking of how many years it would take him to kill the calories, the place smelled sickly sweet and the people around were loud, at this point he might as well gone to fucking Chilli’s. His only consolation was that you did have a chuckle at his outfit, a dodger’s shirt, beige khakis and those sexy ass white New balance…the versace shades did come back, just to ruin the look.

Ryan and Helena exchanged expectant looks, both knowing you both were about to say something life changing and obvious, Homelander could smell his son’s anxiety feeding into his own as he shuffled in his seat.

The brown New York classic indoors were fun and charming, a hundred year old venue was cool, but he wanted this to be over and admire later.

“So… I have something to tell you Ryan.” He was so pale, ordering dessert first before dropping the news, his fork pushing the maraschino cherries around digging to get to the cheesecake he had no desire to eat.

“You guys are dating.” He blurted taking a bite of his layered carrot cheesecake.

“Well…” He swallowed hard, he looked at you for support, a little relieved inside admitedly.

Your hand reached out for this little boy’s arm, mustering a sweet honest smile, taking a long deep breath before speaking.

“Your father and I are getting married” Helena choked on red velvet frosting, trying not to die there, she expected you to get here but not immediately– I know I cannot replace your mother nor will I try, but I hope you can let me help take care of you, and that you can guide me to do so in a way that honors her memory.” 

You choked slightly on your own words.

As the kid looked at you in disbelief, unsure if he should take himself away from you, he looked at his father who hid his face with shame, checking if the people around this booth could overheard this.

“Your father and I dated for a couple years after he met your mother… We were both young and we led very different lives so we separated… but we had Helena…” He finally gave his son reassurance, stroking his back as you spoke camly– we had been seeing each other for a while now… so well here we are… We know it is sudden but after everything you went through in the last two years it just seemed irresponsible to throw myself into your life… but this isn’t better… is just not possible to contain, and is unfair in Helena.”

“She’s my sister…?” He looked at his father desperate for answers, with blotches of pink forming on his neck.

He had to give you points for how easy your lies flowed out of your tender lips, that was not in the script he had planned for tonite, he by now had forgotten all talking points he had planned for not that they mattered anymore, he even had you rehearse some but frankly you didn’t bother memorizing them either. 

“Did you know?” he asked Helena.

“I suspect it… I mean we got the same eye color.” she points with her fork.

“I didn’t know about you, Helena… your mother and I did not end on amicable terms.” He looks at you with believable tragedy, no doubt from years of acting on his belt and actual feelings– it is quite regrettable but we have reconciled, and that’s all that matters now.”

“I made mistakes when it came to my daughter and your father” Your mouth tasted like horseshit so you swallowed hard– I am sorry but I hope we can… get along… We both want you and Helena to grow up as a family. I won’t force you to accept me, and we won’t be moving in together any time soon but please give me a chance.” You said starting to tremble in your seat.

The kid and your kid looked at each other.

“You two are the worst.” Your daughter spoke on his behalf as the kid seemed lost.

“Is okay… I think this could’ve been worse” Ryan said– you seem nice Ms. L/N…”

“You can call me Y/N or a nickname if you like.” You said with your most saccharine voice– Your dad and I were thinking maybe going together for a holiday… bit of a bonding experience.”

Ryan and Helena contemplated the idea, Homelander was panicking as you forced your revisions onto him.

“Camping would be nice.” Ryan said.

“I always wanted to see Yellowstone.” Helena giggled at the idea of seeing geysers, and this man failing miserably to build a tent.

“You’re taking this quite well, honey” You said towards your daughter.

“It is what it is…”

A/N: will say what reader-chan said about Becca does not reflect my personal views on Ms. Saunders storyline, but in this story HL never told her about the events of Ryan's conception obviously nor hinted at anything unsavoury involving the matter... for all purposes Reader knows HL kills people willy nilly but isn't a sex offender.

Taglist-- hope you guys had fun reading @demodemo909 @immyowndefender @fromforeigntofamiliarity @666riddler

@ghqstfqce

#personal #homelander #the boys #homelander x reader #homelander x you #homelander fanfiction #my fic tag #this chapter was a lot hope you guys had fun reading as much as i had writing it #american royalty

[101flavoursofweird]

2022 Fanfic Meme Thanks to @samcybercat for tagging me in this!

Word count for the year: 112,950… More than last year, which is surprising! Maybe it was all those Owl House fics I wrote in a number of weeks lol

Number of stories posted to Ao3: Altogether, 151!

Pairings written for:

Claire/Hershel

Arianna/Luke

Luke/Marina

Randall/Angela

Brenda/Clark

Carmine/Zacharias

Katia/Dorothea

Flora/OC

Janice Quatlane/Melina Whistler

Willow/Hunter

Gus/Mattolomule

Mermista/Sea Hawk

Mirio/Tamaki

Fandoms I wrote for:  

Rhythm Thief

Professor Layton

The Owl House

She Ra

My Hero Academia

Most popular story: 

By Kudos, it’s What’s in a name? By hits, it’s Ready Now.

Story I’m most proud of: From Now On… A prequel to Ready Now, where Layton decides to look after the Barde kids. I find it hard to write from Layton’s perspective (because he’s much smarter than me), but I think I wrote him well here, with a lot of references to his past. (Randall, Claire, vague memories of his brother…) And I like the parallels between the Bronev brothers and the Barde siblings. I was kind of hoping it would get more attention, so if anyone fancies checking it out… The link is here. Please don’t be scared off Descole fans. I know it says ‘Descole isn’t portrayed in a good light’ but I only put that because I’m paranoid and it’s no worse than what’s seen in PL4, I swear 

Funniest: I Was a Blushing Teenage Abomination… Hunter doesn’t know how to process these feelings??? Isn’t embarrassment a bad thing??? Also, Gus using Hunter as a makeup model because he can 

Saddest: Probably Those Who Can’t, Teach, because it features Janice mourning for Melina (again). I actually put a possible depression warning at the start, that’s how sad it got.

Least Popular: It’s Where Your Heart Is but I posted that a few days ago and it’s for the tiny Rhythm Thief fandom, so makes sense… It’s there if anyone wants to read a short RT Christmas fic. 

Most Cringe-Worthy: I Was a Blushing Teenage Abomination but it’s meant to be like that. Hunter is cringe and he needs to accept that’s fine. 

Favorite Opening Line(s): Angela stands by, smiling, as Henry places his hand on Randall’s shoulder. 

(From Missing Conversation)

Favorite Closing Line(s):

“Never mind— you could always take my last name!” Gus finished signing the invitation as Matt spluttered.

Gus hummed. “We should ask Steve if he’s going, and see what he thinks of Mattholomule Noceda-Porter—“

“We will NOT!” 

(From “You can take my last name!”)

Top Scenes from Anywhere You Would Choose to Have Illustrated:  Willow saving Hunter from being possessed by Belos.

(A scene from an AU, Out of the Woods, but I’m sure there is fanart for something like this!)!

Story I haven’t yet written, but intend to: A fic with baby Willow and her dads, Harvey and Gilbert (Da and Appa)

Fic-writing goals for 2022: I so badly need to finish a long fic in general. I’m replaying Lost Future to finish the next part of Ready Now, but I also really want to write more of Clarity. Also, that other fic for Put Yourself Back in the narrative, featuring Clark and Brenda. I’m really sorry for anyone who is waiting for an update on one of my multi-chaptered fics. I just find it easier writing oneshots and I guess lots of oneshots is better than no writing at all. 

No pressure if you don’t want to do this, but I’ll tag…

#My fics #my writing #Ready Now #Put Yourself Back in the Narrative #Answers #tagged #thanks #Tag later #Add links later #Huntlow #Willow Park #hunter the golden guard

[ecoamerica]

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The American Climate Leadership Awards 2024 broadcast recording is now available on ecoAmerica's YouTube channel for viewers to be inspired by active climate leaders. Watch to find out which finalist received the $50,000 grand prize! Hosted by Vanessa Hauc and featuring Bill McKibben and Katharine Hayhoe!

#ACLA24 #ACLA24Leaders #youtube #youtube video #climate leaders #climate solutions #climate action #climate and environment #climate #climate change #climate and health #climate blog #climate justice #climate news #weather and climate #environmental news #environment #environmental awareness #environment and health #environmental #environmental issues #environmental justice #environment protection #environmental health #Youtube

[madaboutmunson]

WIP Weekend :D

Tagged in this by the wonderful @steddie-there and the amazing @2btheanswertothequestion

I know I was probably a random choice, but I'm just gonna pretend you both love me, and that's why you tagged me ;)

In a reblog (or new post w/ rules attached), post up to five (5) filenames of your WIPs; not titles, file names.

Post a snippet from one of them. Snippet must be words you wrote in the last 7 days. We’re posting progress here. If you haven’t made any, go make some and come back to post!

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WIPs

Are You Experienced?

SRS X TPE - Part 3 - Eddie POV

It's a kind of magic 3

Hell Raiser 5

I wasn't sure which to choose, so I just went for the one that is open right now, and selected a chunk that contained a paragraph my beta reader enjoyed :) Let me know if you want a snippet from one of the others :)

Taglist

Anyone who has some lovely juicy WIP snippets to share 💚

Snippet

Steve shoves his hands into his jacket pockets and feels the crinkle of the fifty from his mom against his fingertips, and his eyes move to the record store. They were probably gonna be open for an hour or so longer. He turns to the store's glass front, has a final check over his appearance and ensures his uniform is buried deep in the depths of his backpack before taking a deep breath and walking over there.

It's not like he hated this place or anything. It just felt like a betrayal to the town store that was slowly but surely crumbling into non-existence. The other factor was that all the people who worked here were school kids, apart from the manager. Cheap labour, he guesses, but it means he can never fully relax here. Can never fully let the music ring through his ears so it can guide him to his next pocket-sized plastic box of hidden treasure. Most of them were younger than him, though, so intimidating them was easy enough, though with the weather warming up, they were slowly catching on to how far King Steve had fallen, working just across the way. He tells them it's character-building, an experiment. He only told Robin that it was, in fact, a punishment.

He stands outside for a moment. This place is so bright and garish. Neon lights ran all over it like some fake plastic poison spreading between what he loved most. He can already hear something blaring out of there and voices chattering loudly, contending with it. He puts on his headphones, carefully placing the band so it doesn't crease up his hair, and pushes play on his Walkman. His ears fill with Nina Simone, and he takes a much easier deep breath as he walks inside.

I wish I knew how it would feel to be free.

As the voice smoothly fills his ears like it had just broken through the dam of the day and swirls its way around his brain into what feels like every crease, he finally feels that special feeling. The tingle from under his cheekbone to his temples, and he can finally settle into himself a little more. Swaps tension for ease as his fingers dance over the music sections, flipping cassette cases or the large vinyl album artwork as he moves around the store.

That is until he starts to hear the repetition of something unfortunate, and it pulls him out of his oasis of calm back into his old, reliable, tensed body and mask. His name.

"Harrington!" The voice rings out, and as if to make a show of how annoying this all is, he slowly takes off his headphones and forcibly pushes stop on his walkman.

"Yes?" He says through almost gritted teeth as he turns to the origin of the sound and finds himself met with a set of hopeful brown eyes, a mass of waves and curls, and an awkward smile. Eddie "The Freak" Munson.

#steddie #tag game #wip wednesday #wip weekend #fic snippet #snippet

[selfawarejester]

So, someone requested a fic where Blue Team rescues a Child!Reader from a war zone, but unfortunately Tumblr ate the ask. If you’re the one who requested it, please enjoy!

EDIT: found a screenshot! @simp-for-fictional-men-only, hope you like this!

Blue Team x Child!Reader (Halo)

It’s been a long “day”, even by Spartan standards.

Blue Team had been trying to repel Covenant forces on an Outer Colonies planet for over a week… but it hadn’t been enough. Command had called an evacuation, and after destroying a base to help the efforts, Blue Team had been ordered to help with final evacuation calls in the nearest town.

On the Pelican ride to town, there was a brief moment where they thought it was a waste of resources to send Spartans for an evacuation op, especially because the other Spartan teams were still doing the best they could to strike back at the Covenant; not necessarily to stop them anymore, just to hold them back long enough for the civilians to escape and maybe a little revenge. The events of the week, coupled with the guilt of their brothers and sisters still risking their lives, weighed on them heavily.

But at the end of the day, they’re glad they did: they found a group in the Rec center, a dozen people in the boroughs, twenty in an apartment complex — the Marines wouldn’t have been able to lift most of the wreckage that blocked them from escaping.

By the time they’d gotten to the outskirts of town, Blue Team had been left alone to sweep through the dead town. Chief considered just going to meet up with the Marines — surely, they could match the pace of the overloaded Troop Transports — and this area was just dilapidated factories and shady looking establishments that had long since been stampeded.

But a need to fulfil his task to completion stayed his hand… and thank god it did.

At first, it was just soft sniffles that sounded from the inside of the rundown factory. Chief and Kelly, who’d partnered up to search this side of the district, thought it was one of the many Jackals that had been posted in the previous sector wandering, or a Grunt that had been left behind after the Jackals had entertained themselves (in which case, they should probably put the thing out of its misery), so they go inside.

Chief goes first, moving carefully through the debris so as to not dislodge the wreckage, or disturb the corpses of the few soldiers and more civilians. He retrieves their dog tags, securing them in one of the compartments of the MJOLNIR, and Kelly follows, stepping where he does.

Slowly, the sound becomes louder and louder, wheezing and snotty sobbing. Definitely an injured Grunt, he thinks. It’s coming from under a slab of concrete propped up against a wall. Kelly flanks to the right, while Chief goes to the left. He signals that he’ll lift it on the count of three, and grips the edge of the slab. When the slab gets tossed aside, Kelly raises her shotgun, pointing directly at the small figure.

You shriek and bury your head in your knees, pulled up to your chest. You couldn’t believe that after all the gross, awful things you’d had to sit through, holed up in this corner, you were just going to die.

But when nothing happens for a solid five seconds, you chance a peek over your knees and gasp. S-117 and S-087 are emblazoned across the chests of the armored giants… Spartans.

Kelly and Chief exchange confused gazes, having no idea how to deal with children. The last ones they’d had any interaction with was the Castoffs on Netherop, but they were more feral gremlins than they had been children.

(Kelly and Fred still aren’t entirely sure that the whole incident wasn’t a heat-induced hallucination.)

John really doesn’t want to go through another episode like it, but on the other hand, it would be easier if you were pelting rocks at them.

Kelly, being the more personable of the two, kneels to your height (or as close as a Spartan could get) and softly calls. “You don’t have to be scared. We’re here to help.”

You knew that — they were Spartans! The greatest heroes Humanity ever possessed! You were just shocked that you were getting rescued by them.

“Y-you’re Spartans.” You whisper dumbly, but you couldn’t help it! How are you supposed to be cool when you grew up with Master Chief’s action figure on your nightstand. “Like Master Chief.”

You can’t see it, but John can sense Kelly’s smirk as she looks over at him and points. “Well, that’s the man himself.”

* Oh no. By the way your wet, moved eyes stare up at him, it seems you’re a fan.

OH MY GOD, OH MY GOD, OH MY GOD!!! You hope your pterodactyl screeching wasn’t external.

“Whoa.” This couldn’t be real. You’d passed out from exhaustion, and were dreaming all of this. That could be the only possibility!

John knows that this is the part where he says something witty or inspiring… but he really doesn’t know what to say, so he just awkwardly clears his throat. “Are you hurt?”

You shake your head violently, a burning need to not disappoint your childhood hero, and clamber up to your feet… only to wince and lean against the wall, something sticky on your leg.

Now that you’re standing, he can see the dried blood around your ankle. “Hold still!” All the softness is gone from Kelly’s tone as she works on bandaging you up, but you don’t mind, appreciating how careful she’s being.

Co-ordinating with Linda, who informs him that there are patrols scouting the areas — probably only to get any survivors, and not to catch them, but they should still move — and Fred, who tells him that the convoy is flying off-planet via Pelicans in half an hour, John makes some quick calculations.

With the pace you’d set, hobbling alongside Kelly, whimpering every time you put your weight on your left foot, it would take them at least an hour. Too long.

“Whoa…” The sound comes unbidden from Fred when Kelly emerges, with you clutching at her hip, all bloody and dirty. A pang of sympathy strikes as he looks around and realizes all that you must have seen. He was well aware that normal children weren’t nearly as resilient as he and his siblings had been.

“….” He stays silent as you arrive in front of him, staring up at him with slight apprehension, heart racing as he tries to think of something to say — and for some reason, he lands on an awkward, weirdly Southern-sounding. “Hey champ!”

John and Kelly both shoot him weird looks, and he wants to dig a hole and die, when they hear it.

A small giggle falls from your lips, tiny hands covering your mouth as you try not to laugh. Fred sighs in relief, but his anxiety returns when Kelly’s joking voice comes over the comms saying “Well, I guess we know who’s taking care of them.”

Linda drops out of nowhere, and nearly scares you to death as you shriek and bump into John, holding his leg tightly. You don’t really notice how he freezes, confused again.

“…sorry.” She doesn’t sound sorry, you think with a pout and drop from Chief’s leg, careful of your own busted ankle.

“That’s Linda, that’s Fred and I’m Kelly. You can just call him Chief. What’s your name?”

“Y-Y/N.”

“Alright. We won’t be able to make it if you’re walking, so you need to get on one of our backs.” Chief tells you, straight to business. “Which one of us do you feel comfortable with?”

He’s really hoping you pick Kelly or Fred. It wouldn’t exactly be a burden, you’re much tinier than the full grown people he’s had to carry out of a war zone, and you’re handling it much better as well, even though you’re barely ten years old.

“Um…” You look shyly up at Fred. “If you don’t really mind…”

*Aw. That’s… actually kind of sweet. Fred beckons you over, and hoists you up between his shoulders, giving you the rundown on what to do if people start shooting, and to hold on tight when he tells you to.

*You’re much more considerate than the freaked out VIPs he’s had to extract. But he still feels you twitch every time the wind causes something to clatter, so he decides to strike up conversation.

“So how did you wind up there?” It’s not until afterwards that he realizes that, unlike soldiers, civilians aren’t comfortable discussing stuff like that. But you answer that it was your dad’s factory, explaining that it was Bring Your Kid To Work Day.

The Spartans, specifically Kelly, asked you questions about it, having never heard of it themselves. After all, military settings rarely allowed such breaches of protocol.

You only trailed off as you got to the part where he told you to hide, and Fred lets it be.

When you finally get to the convoy, a nurse hurriedly tries to pull you away from the Spartans to help out, apologizing for not doing it sooner when Fred tells her it’s fine and that you can stay. After all, Kelly had fixed you up well, and you seemed terrified at the prospect of being left alone.

All that was left to do was fly up to the ship in outer orbit, with the rest of the survivors. Since there were such few Pelicans, everyone had been crammed into them, military and civilians alike. You’d simply wandered onto the one they’d been on, sandwiched between Chief and Fred.

Chief watches you picking at your shorts, and suddenly remembers the chocolate bar Sgt. Johnson keeps giving him - “you’re not yourself when you’re hungry, Chief” He’d snicker and then leave, Chief just standing there, not understanding the reference - but hey, chocolate was chocolate.

“Here. You did well.” Your eyes go wide, and for a second he thinks you’re going to refuse, but then you snatch it out of his hand and snarf it down. This is how it must feel to watch him eat.

“You’re going to like it up there.” Fred chimes in when your gaze starts getting distant again. “Space is really cool.”

In a twist of fate, you find one of your best friends when you arrive on the ship. Their parents promise to take care of you, and thank the Spartans.

When they start directing the survivors to their quarters, you hug every Spartan, even Linda… or their legs, since you couldn’t reach anything else. (Thankfully, you telegraph it pretty well, so they don’t accidentally smack you or something.)

John just stiffens and then nods, Fred pats you on the head awkwardly and shuffles away (he was very shocked by the affection), Kelly laughs and claps you on the shoulder, and Linda just hums and pets you on the head like a dog, walking away afterwards.

You go on to be a Marine yourself, finding yourself on the Halo campaign, where Chief and Cortana save you once more. You’re surprised he still remembers you.

You leave a bar of the same brand he gave you at his shrine, giving a heartfelt eulogy and catching up momentarily with the other members of Blue Team before you all leave again.

You almost faint when he shows up at Requiem, though. Don’t feel bad, as Lasky fanboys behind Chief for the whole campaign.

Palmer corrals you and Lasky into a break room to make fun of your behavior after it’s all over.

#halo #fred 104 #john 117 #kelly 087 #linda 058 #halo x reader #fred 104 x reader #john 117 x reader #kelly 087 x reader #linda 058 x reader #hope I got all their characters right! #I’ll add a read more later

[an-actual-angel]

Pairing: Connor (RK800) x Reader, Collin (RK800-60) x Reader, Richard (RK900) x Reader

Summary: The year was 2082. 44 Years after the android revolution. Things have turned south for humanity. Androids now rule the world, leaving humans to be considered as mere animals. While some Androids still have a general disdain for humanity some have taken to the idea of keeping them as “family pets.” You, born in captivity, specifically bred to be the perfect pet happen to get adopted by the RK brothers.

(If anyone wants to be added to the tag list, either dm or reply to this post <3)

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Chapter 36 -  Running away is easy, Its the leaving that's hard

It had almost been two weeks since you last saw Connor and Collin. It had been tough, to say the least, you missed them like crazy. You would constantly check your phone for messages that would never come. Perhaps it didn’t take them long at all to forget about you. You couldn’t let yourself get too upset about it though, this was your decision. Maybe it was easier for them to keep their distance. It would probably work out better this way in the end.

Danny was right when he said that life in the settlement wasn't going to be glamorous, it was hard work, something you weren’t used to, coming from living cushy in a penthouse. You mostly helped out with farming the land and tending to the chickens, feeding them, cleaning out their coop, collecting eggs, etc. You also got stuck with the job of babysitting some kids from time to time. It was good to keep busy though, to keep your mind away from androids.

When you had free time, you spent it mostly with Emily, catching up, attempting to look after her, although insisted she didn’t need the fuss.

You had been staying in Emily’s shack, it was just you her and her cat Pepper, but you made a good little family. You wondered whatever happened to the father of Emily’s child, she didn’t want to talk about him too much, whoever he was. She’d just say he was away.

You didn’t want to push her but your overbearing curiosity would not sit at peace. Some other ladies around the settlement had told you he had been taken by androids.

What Emily did tell you about the child’s father was that his name was James and he was the one that saved her from the adoption centre. Well, he’d been one of the humans in the midst of the one of the riots in the city who also happened to help some of the humans escape the centre.

“Took down two androids right in front of my eyes, that how I knew he was the one.” She laughed.  

“He took down two androids? On his own?” You spluttered out, not believing her.

“Yeah, with one of these,” Emily smirked handing you over a baton.

Taking it in your hand you examine it, slightly confused until you see a button near the bottom. “Is this one of the electric ones the cops use?”

“Yep, can take out an android with a few quick buzzes.” She points her chin at you and smiles. “That’s my man, always got the good weapons.”

“I’m quite surprised you settled on a man honestly.” You smirked, “Last time I saw you, you were giving puppy dog eyes to Olivia.” You cock your head to the side, raising your eyebrows.

“Yeah, I did have a thing for her, until she got adopted and you know. Kinda couldn’t see her anymore.”

“Liv got adopted?”

“Yeah.” Emily shrugged plainly and looked away.

“I’m sorry Emily.” You reach out your hand to touch hers.

“Why are you sorry?” She shakes her head, pulling her hand away from yours to rest on her baby bump.

“It just must have been lonely for you, without me and Liv.” You bite at the broken skin on your bottom lip.

“Yeah it was a bit, but then I met James.” She smiled a little but it faded fast. “He’ll come back you know.” She said quickly, more telling it as a way to convince herself, rather than you.

You nod back to her, not wanting to hurt your friend. “Of course Emily.”

Her hand wipes at her eye a little. “Best be getting to bed.” She stands to her feet. “You should as well” she smiles placing her hand on your shoulder.

“That’s probably a good idea.” You nod. “Big day tomorrow.”

___

You woke to the sun shining through the thin material of your makeshift curtain, with a rub of your eyes and a quick stretch you were up to start your day. Making breakfast for yourself and Emily was first on the list and then feeding Emily’s cat Pepper was second. The next few hours would be spent outside on the farm tending to some of the plants and vegetables, you would do this until lunchtime when you would have a quick bite to eat and then on to the ‘town’ meeting, a quick impromptu one that had been called by Danny.

They had received word from another settlement, one not too far from them that they would aid them in their next city raid.

“City raid?” You whispered to Emily, not understanding what he had meant.

“Yeah, we’d been planning this one for a while.” She whispers back quickly. “It’s how we get more weapons, people, stuff like that.”

“Does Connor know you guys have been doing this?” You ask.

“No. but he doesn’t need to know.” She shrugs. “We send our doughboys out with masks anyway.”

“Doughboys?” You asked even more confused than before.

“Yeah, our fighters.” She snaps as she furrows her brows. “Don’t you listen?” realising how quick she was with you she apologises “Sorry, I forgot that you’re still new around here. We call our ‘recruits’” she says with parenthesis. “Doughboys, and they get shit done. I was one before, well before y’know.” She rubs her bump.

“Never pegged you as a fighter.”

“Well, I guess there’s a lot you don’t know about me then.” She laughs.

“Ladies,” Danny calls Emily and your attention back to him.

“This time it’s going to be the big one.” Danny looks around at everyone’s faces. “There are people from other settlements in the city as we speak. It’s almost our time to join them. Three days. Three more days!” His weathered hand hits the table he was standing in front of. “And we're getting our boys back.”

You notice Emily nod to Danny, her lip wobbles as she turns to you.

“James.” she half-smiles half whimpers as her hand grabs yours.

You give her hand a tight squeeze and whisper a silent prayer that they will indeed find him alive and well.

As the day goes on most of the camp seems in a mixture of excitement and fear about the upcoming raid.

The ‘Doughboys’ as Emily called them, coordinating their plan of attack, parents ensuring their children that everything will work out, farmers, bakers, and medics in a tizzy to prepare the needed supplies.

As the evening settles in you begin to worry for Emily, what if they can’t find James? what if he’s not even alive?

Poor Emily has been through so much. She doesn’t deserve any more grief.

A part of you wants to tell her to not get her hopes up but saying that would be cruel. You just nod along and try to keep her comfortable. After dinner Emily ends up falling asleep on the recliner chair she had been sitting on. As you wrap a blanket over her shoulders you realise that you're almost out of firewood and the fire its self is beginning to dwindle down.

Grabbing one of Emily’s cloaks from a hanger, you drape it over your shoulders before heading out on your quest to seek out more wood.

Wooden logs were usually kept in an area just west of the settlement, it was a little walk through the trees but not too far. You usually preferred going out when it was brighter. The light from your phone only made the place look creepier. The quietness of the area didn’t help either, if it wasn’t for the noises made by nearby animals the place would be downright eerie. At least you could still see the warm glow of the settlement in the distance through the trees.  

You knelt down on dry dirt to pick up some of the logs from the bottom of the pile to put in the wicker basket that you had brought with you. After you make your selection you stand back to your feet and dust off the dirt of your clothes. Just as you are about to reach down for your basket again you are abruptly stopped by a large hand being placed over your mouth as well as an arm wrapping around your front holding both your arms in place so that you cannot struggle from the grasp. You try to wrestle your way out of the grasp in a fit of fear but a familiar voice sends you into shock.

“Please calm down.”

Is that?

Your body is frozen.

“I only grabbed you like this in case you screamed. Sorry, it was a bit abrupt, I know.”

Your heart begins to thump harder in your chest but this time not from fear.

“When I let go, please don’t scream.” The voice pleads.

You manage to nod your head, still, in your state of shock, the hands and arm loosen from you and you try to steady yourself on your feet before turning around.

You take a deep breath as you slowly move on your feet towards the person whose grip you had just been in.

“Richard.” You exhale deeply.

His tongue wets his lip before he attempts to speak, however, you cut him off.

“What are you doing here!? If anyone sees you!” You shout in a whisper at him.

“Look, I know, I know.” He lifts his hands in defence. “I was just lucky that you happened to be out here so I didn't have to go in there.” He gestures his head towards the settlement.

“Don’t dare step foot in there.” Your eyes widen as if he’s gone mad.

“I won’t, I won’t… If you come back.”

“What? No.” You shake your head.

“No?”

“I can’t Richard. I belong here.”

“Y/N, Look at this place. It’s disgusting.” He shakes his head as he scans his eyes across the poorly put together ‘town’. “Surviving on scraps, like an animal. You have a nice home, come back.” He reaches out to hold your hands.

You lift your brows to look up at him, your mouth becoming straight as you shake your head and slowly pull your hands away.

“I can’t, I just can’t.” You pick your basket off the ground and turn to walk away from the android.

“I’ll give you anything!” He shouts out. You turn your head to him.

“I’ll do anything.” He moves towards you again. “Just say the word. Please.”

He reaches his hand towards yours once more, his other caressing your cheek.

“I’ll even help with the rebellion.” He whispers.

“The rebellion?” You look up at him, your face plagued with even more confusion.

“Whatever it is the humans are planning. I can help, I can be of use just, please come back.” He begs his forehead now resting against yours.

“Wha- I don't understand. Why?” You whisper to him, closing your eyes as you press your forehead back against his.

“Because I love you.”

________________________________________________________________

Chapter 37 -  Alrighty Aphrodite

You had entered the settlement on your own again. Going back to your shack, you had to explain the situation to Emily.

“If he can get James back.” She stopped for a minute to steady her breath. “Then I’m on board.”

After a quick hug and farewell, you had a bag packed and you were off.

“I’ll be back.” You said once more to Emily before leaving.

“I know.” She nods.

Richard had been waiting for you just outside the gateway, you had told him to wait there so he wouldn’t spook the residents.

“I can carry that” Richard insist, taking your bag from your hands, before you could say anything he had it thrown over his shoulder. You bite at your lips not really knowing what to say but walking through the forested area with him in silence.

“It’s not too far of a walk to the car,” He said. “I did try to park as close as I could.”

You just nod and continue to walk. After another while of insufferable silence, you finally speak up to him.

“So, is it true?” You turn towards the Android. “Do you really love me?”

His eyes fall to the ground for a moment as he continues on. “Yes.” He fell quiet again for a moment before continuing on. “I think I first began to realise when Collin got in that accident. You stayed with him.” He let out an artificial sigh. “I started to think about if something had happened to you and-” He shrugged.

“It took me a long time to come to grips with my feelings as you could probably tell. I never experience this type of emotion before.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?” You tilt your head attempting to make eye contact, his gaze still avoiding yours as he trudged forward.

“I was an idiot. A scared fool.”

“You are an idiot.” You stop for a minute causing Richard to stop as well, he moves closer to you, to see if you are alright. Taking him by surprise you lean up to press a kiss to his cheek. Richard hums for a second moving away slowly, he looks into your eyes before he tries to kiss your lips.

You however hold your hand out and say “I can't do that, I have boyfriends.” Before walking on.

“Yeah, ones that left you behind.” Richard sighs moving again to walk beside you.

“They did that to protect me.”

“Connor in his twisted reasoning. He probably did it more to protect himself. He is selfish. You have no idea what your leaving has done to Collin.” Richard grumbles.

“So you’re guilt-tripping me now?” You roll your eyes.

“I’m just saying.” Richard grunts, re-adjusting your bag against his back. “Why’d you not bring your suitcase?”

“This is just temporary.” You shrug.

“I see.”

“How’s Connor doing?” You change the subject before Richard tries to convince you to stay forever.

“He’s stressed about all of the attacks that have been happening in the city and he’s stressed because Collins current mental stability is not too fun. I think it would cheer him up to see you.”

“Yeah and he might murder you for bringing me.” You quip back.

“True. I guess we’ll just have to see.” He retorts as you notice Richard’s car parked in the distance. He did park quite close. Something Connor would also be pissed about.

“How did you find me anyway?” You ask the question that’s been on your mind since you first saw him.

“I’m afraid the truth of the matter might unsettle you a little.” He explains as his car beeps at his arrival.

“Go on.” You encourage him. “You can’t stop now.”

“I am one of the most advanced androids in existence.” He explains whilst throwing your bag in the back of his car. He then opens the passenger side door for you to get in. When you do he leans down to your ear to whisper, “I’m everywhere.” And with that, he closes the door.

You sit for a moment in contemplation as he gets into his side of the car to sit down. As he puts his seat belt on you turn to him with confusion on your face. “Did you hack my phone?”

Richard rolls his eyes as he starts up the car. “I was able to tap into the journey history of Connor's vehicle. I knew he was behind all of this.” He begins to explain as his own car sets out.

“When I got to the location of the factory I was able to scan for signs of nearby technology. Your settlement stood out like a beacon. Didn’t take too long for me to tap into some phones that were being used yes, and then I saw you.”

“Can other androids do all that?”

“Not a lot can. And definitely not to the extent that I can. As I say, I’m everywhere. Any piece of technology, I can tap into if I desire so.” Richard explains proudly.

“So, do you ever use it to spy on people?”

“Only if necessary.”

“You ever watch people naked?” You smirk a little.

Richard’s brows furrow as he blushes slightly. “No, I would not do that.”

You burst out in laughter at his defensiveness. “I’m just teasing.”

Richard adjusts his shirt collar in discomfort. “Indeed.” He replies dryly.

You smile and rest your head against the back of the seat.

“You know you can lie in the back if you want, it’s a long drive and you could do with some sleep.”

You swivel your seat around to look at the back seat, assessing it. Swapping your seat with your bag that had been put in the back and lay down on the cool leather.

“You don’t have any blankets do you?” You ask Richard as you attempt to find some level of comfort on the cold seat.

“No, sorry. I can turn the heat up if you like?”

“hmmpf.” You think for a minute. “Isn’t this car self-driving?”

“Yes,” Richard replies, not really sure at what you’re getting at.

“Why don’t you just put in the destination and then come back here and lie with me?”

His LED begins flashing red. “I think Connor would definitely try and kill me if we sleep with each other again.” Richard stammers.

“I wasn’t suggesting we have sex, oh my god!” You smack your hand over your mouth to not laugh.

Richard's face began to turn in cringe, “oh I just thought-”

“I meant so we could cuddle.” You explain, smirk still present on your face.

“Do you think Collin and Connor would be okay with that?”

“I think they’d be angrier if you let me get sick from the cold.” You tease.

“That is a fair point.” Richard raises a brow as he puts in the location for the car to self-drive. When he has it tapped in, he too swivels around in his seat to move to the back with you.

Richard is a little awkward at first as he clumsily shifted to lay down in the backseat with you, eventually pulling you into his chest. The thrum of his thirium pump makes you grin in triumph as he settles his head to rest on top of yours. Richard then changes his body temperature to a comfortable setting so that he could be your personal radiator for the next few hours.

Was this weird? Absolutely. Was this wrong? Maybe. Was this comfortable? YES.

But you allowed yourself the brief comfort of being in Richard's arms, even if it was just for this one night. Maybe you felt like you deserved it, you were entitled to some amount of comfort after all the crap you’ve been through.

A part of you was angry and Collin and Connor for not reaching out, even to send a measly little text message. Your more rational mind told you to drop it, something might have come up, you didn’t know the full story, and maybe it was too hard for them. Although that didn’t stop it from stinging your ego any less.

You managed to drift off to sleep rather quickly, that was one of the benefits from all the hard work you had been up to at the settlement, sleep found you a whole lot quicker. Richard had stayed beside you for the majority of the journey as well, cherishing the feeling of having you in his arms once again. Deciding to himself to never be without this feeling anymore. His face snuck its way between your neck and collar bone to take in your scent and to delicately place his lips against your skin just for a sweet moment of indulgence. He had to wiggle his hips away from yours so you would not awake with his growing hardness against your ass.

Feeling a little guilty for his body’s response he decided to give you some space, sliding his form out from the side, slowly as not to wake you. He couldn’t help but smiling down at how comfortable you seemed as he made his way back to the driver’s seat, the seat still swivelled around to face the back.

Richard did eventually wake you up as the car pulled into the private garage area for the RK’s apartment building.

“We're here, little dove.” He coos to you, brushing his knuckles down the length of your arm.

Your eyes squinted open, feeling blinded by the violently bright fluorescent lights of the garage you had found yourself in. Looking down you had noticed one of Richard's coats had been draped over you. You rubbed your eyes briefly before reaching down to it to hand it over to Richard.

“You put it on.” He insisted, pushing it back towards you. “At least until we get inside. It gets cold in the garage, at least that’s what my sensors tell me.”

You didn’t object you just nodded in silence, still in that groggy half sleep-like state. Throwing the oversized coat onto yourself you open the car door and hop out, Richard grabbing your bag soon follows behind, hand on your shoulder as he directs you towards the elevator.

It felt strange being back in the city, even stranger to see the apartment building again.

When you entered back into your old home, it had felt different somehow, a little bit eerie even. Suppose it didn’t help that most of the lights were off.

“Collin and Connor are both out at the moment.” Richard finally spoke up again, leading you by the shoulder into the dark living room, with a flash of his LED the lights were on.

You squinted again at the harshness of them before Richard had dimmed them to a more pleasing brightness level.

“Why don’t you go and get a nice hot bath and I can put your stuff away.” He awkwardly half-smiles over at you.

“Are you sure?” You ask skittishly.

“Of course.” He tilts his head in confusion, it’s not like having YOU here was any bother to him, he was bloody delighted. “After that, I can go get my brothers?”

“Right now?” You stuttered out the question, fidgeting with the large sleeves of Richard’s coat that you had forgotten to take off.

“Do you want some time before?” Richard asked, head tilting once more, exposing his pale neck to you.

You shook your head and looked back down at your hands. “I don’t know, maybe. It’s not that I don’t want to see them. This is all just a little overwhelming.”

“I understand.” Richard nods. “Just one thing at a time.”

You look up at him once more, catching his cool eyes in a stare, you nod. “A hot bath sounds good.”

________________________________________________________________

Notes:  I lowkey called Emily's love interest James after Bucky Barnes (cause for some reason I imaging him looking like Bucky lol)

Sorry I'd been gone for a while, just been really busy with work and general life stuff.

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#fic: pretty baby #My writing #connor x you #connor x reader #rk900 x reader #rk800 x reader #rk800-60 x reader #detroit become human #dbh fanfic #dbh au #rk900 #rk800 #rk800-60

[wannabemobwife]

Guns, Glamour and Goodfellas - Chapter 13

Chapter 13: Revenge Never Felt So Good

Dad!Mob!Tom x Mom!Mob!Reader

-Pairings: Tom Holland x Reader, Rosie Holland x Henry Osterfield

-Warnings: Guns, bombing, language, murder, blood, hints to smut (none actual smut), typos, shitty writing, torture I guess

-Words: 4.9K

A/n: Can we get back to mob stuff? Please. I want to apologize for this chapter, it is absolute shit and I could tell by writing it. Kind of a filler chapter. Sorry it is long.

Chapter 13: Revenge Never Felt So Good

Words: 4.9K

It had been a week, since you got your memories back and you declared your love for Tom once more. Right after that, you and Tom were on the first train to Paris, refusing to fly for awhile.

You and Tom returned last night, just in time to see Parker and Rosie off to school the next morning. While you and Tom had been enjoying a second honeymoon in the city of love, Nikki and Dom so graciously offered to watch the kids. Everything was falling back into full swing. Parker and Rosie were going to school regularly. Rosie spending all her time with Henry and Parker still living his secret double life.

Things going back to normal. Somewhat.

It was a typical morning, but anytime everyone every thinks that, something gets massively screwed up. You woke up early to make pancakes and bacon.

“So what is plan for everyone today?” You asked, sipping at your steaming cup of coffee.

“Well, Rosie and I have school,” Parker explained.

“I have plans with Henry,” Rosie chimed in.

“I have meetings all day, love.” Tom said, pressing a gentle kiss to your cheek.

“Ok, so I’m all alone today,” you muttered, a little disappointed.

“I’m sorry darling, you could join me. You know much I love it when you sit in my lap during meetings. Really show them who’s boss,” Tom said, wrapping you in his embrace.

“No, it’s ok. I have some errands to run anyway.”

“Alright, angel. I love you. I’ll see you for dinner.”

“I love you too. Come on, kids. In the car we go.” You said, pushing everyone out the door.

“Why is Jared not driving?” Parker asked.

“Cause, I have errands to run and besides he’s driving your dad today.”

“Now let’s go.” You said as Parker and Rosie hopped into the car.

Tom was having a hard time returning to his mob personality. Some business was conducted in Paris, you tagged along and enjoyed every minute of it. Tom sometimes overcompensated for not being as dangerous and intimidating. He had grown soft taking care of you after the helicopter crash. Helping you get your memory took most of his time, he had to step away from the mob for awhile. But you were his top priority.

Tom couldn’t remember the last time he sat in his office doing business. He missed it. He missed the thrill of torturing someone, having them beg for their life in front of him. He missed the feeling of firing his gun.

“Tom, you’re late,” Haz said as Tom got out of the car.

“Sorry not sorry Haz, I enjoyed breakfast with Y/N and the kids this morning,” Tom responded.

“I have to tell you something.”

“What? It’s never good news if it’s right when I get here.”

“We’re down two more.” Harrison mumbled referring to then decreasing number of soldiers part of the Holland Empire.

“Are you fucking serious? Haz, I’m so fucking tired of this bullshit. My men are getting fucking killed. Everything has gone to shit,” Tom screamed, enraged.

“Tom, we’ll figure it out. Just need to keep your cool.” Haz said, trying to avoid Tom’s wrath.

“Easier said than done. Alright, who’s here,” Tom asked, trying to forget about everything else.

“William.” Haz said with a straight face.

“What? Why? He’s always been loyal,” Tom questioned. One of his most valuable men, working against him, the rat?

“I got word from the soldiers he has been taking bribes from Parker,” Harrison explained.

“What the fuck for? Well, I guess we’ll find out.” Tom said, walking into the main room of the warehouse.

“William, I’d never thought it would be you in this chair.” Tom said, walking up to one of his most trusted employees.

“Tom, you gotta believe me. I didn’t do anything. I’m not the rat,” William pleaded. He knew what had been happening to the mob.

“Did you or did you not take money from Parker?” Tom asked.

“Yes, he just wanted to get out of the manor at night. So, he paid me to turn a blind eye.”

“Where was he going?”

“I don’t know, I assumed to some girl’s house.” “William, I trust you. So I’m going to let you off with a warning, but you can’t let him sneak out anymore. I’m afraid we are being targeted. If he tries to leave, you have to tell me.”

“Yes, boss. I’m sorry.” William apologized.

“It’s ok, but you understand what needs to happen right? I can’t be looking like I’ve gone soft,” Tom asserted.

“Yeah, I can take it. It’s ok,” William said, gritting his teeth as he waited for the collision of Tom’s fist to his cheek. Tom winded up to deliver one swift punch to William’s left eye. Not breaking the skin but creating a dark purple blotch.

All of Tom’s frustrations have been channeled into his mob duties. Each punch riddled with anger and frustration. A release of catharsis combined with blood. Tom wears the smell of blood and death like a perfume.

The rest of the day was full of uneventful meetings. Meetings with business associates, actual business associates for the company.

When Tom came home, he planned to confront Parker about his whereabouts if he tried to sneak out again. Everyone retired, you went to sleep first and Rosie went to her room. Parker said, he was going to bed but Tom could see right through him.

Tom was sitting in the den, sipping a glass of watered down whiskey. Waiting for his son to disobey him. At 11:55 PM, Parker made his way downstairs ever so slightly. Only to be met with the dagger eyes of Tom.

“Where the fuck do you think you are going?” Tom asked as Parker tried to sneakily leave.

“I… I thought I heard noise outside and I’m going to go check on it,” Parker stammered. Getting caught by Tom was not part of the plan.

“Oh, ok. Parker the guards can do that. Go back to bed.” Tom said, turning back to the TV in the den, broadcasting Raiders of the Lost Ark.

“Ok. Night, dad,” Parker said, trudging himself back up the steps.

“Night…. I know, you’re lying,” Tom whispered loud enough for Parker to hear.

“What? I’m not lying.”

“Parker, I know you’ve sneaking out for weeks and bribing William.”

“Dad, I’m sorry,” Parker immediately started apologizing, no bother in trying to lie himself out of this one.

“Why have you been sneaking out?” Tom questioned, seething with anger but refusing to show it. Trying to have a mature adult conversation.

“I’ve been going to a girl’s house, her name is Jamie.”

“Oh, glad you find someone. You know after everything with Charlotte,” Tom replied.

“Well since I told you the truth, can I go? We made the plan a couple days ago and don’t want to cancel,” Parker lied.

“Alright, just be back before sunrise or your mother will have may head,” Tom informed him.

“Thanks dad, you should get some sleep,” Parker said, making his way out of the heavily guarded house.

Parker left as quickly as possible. He knew Wilson would be pissed for him being late. The talk with Tom was not how this was supposed to happen.

He couldn’t betray his family and himself anymore.

Parker hoped this was the last time he would have to talk to him. He planned to quit, after the conversation with Dom. Parker had become everything he hated, someone who kills for sport.

“Wilson, this is the last thing I’m doing then, I’m out,” Parker said, walking towards Wilson.

“We’ll talk about it later, my boy,” Wilson said, patting Parker’s shoulder.

“Alright who am I killing? You never gave me a target.” Parker shouted at Wilson walking.

“Oh, this isn’t a hit, it’s a robbery. Here’s your new firearm,” One of Wilson’s men explained, tossing a MP5K at him.

“You okay kid? You know if you’re too much of pussy the boss might understand,” jeered one of the men as Parker gulped at the size of the weapon.

“Fuck you, I’m fine. Let’s just get this over with,” Parker barked, trying to put his mind aside. He has never done anything like this. It wasn’t just one person he was killing, it was the possibility of having many causalities. Altering his persona from a hitman to a mass murderer.

A million thoughts flooded Parker’s mind. He wouldn’t be killing people who deserved it like before, contract killers or drug dealers, these were innocent people. Stupid people for gambling all their hard earned money away but nonetheless innocent.

Parker’s heart nearly stopped when he saw where the van pulled up to. A place he knew all too well, it was one of Tom’s casinos.

The company that Dom had built, but all the Holland boys sent thriving in the new century, was more than it seemed. Holland Exportation and Luxuries was much more than exporting goods.

It was casinos that ran all along the French Riviera, more specifically Monaco. It was hotels across the entire globe. It was a business but not the family one. More of a front for the mob but it paid the bills. Harry and Sam had been in charge of running and establishing the hotels and casinos across Europe.

“Y’know your way around, right? That’s why the boss put you on this.” One of men asked Parker as he fiddled with his new machine gun.

“I guess so.” Parker replied.

“Here’s a map. Where are the guards? Which posts?” Asked a soldier, pointing to the main entrance hallways, where security was sure to be.

“I don’t know.”

“So we’re going in there fucking blind? Fuck, thought you’d be good for something. Just stay out of our way,” yelled one of the capos.

“No. I’m taking point. If you have a problem, you can fucking talk to me about it along with my Glock,” Parker threatened.

“Alright. Don’t screw this up. The boss wants big bucks from this. Says “it’s step two in the fall of the empire.” Whatever the fuck that means.”

“On my count, 1, 2… 3,” Parker screamed.

They came storming in, barricading all the entrances and exits. Parker and Wilson’s men clad in all black and payday masks. All various colors and designs. They looked as they were trick or treating.

This was the last thing Parker wanted to be doing. He came today to quit and now he was robbing a casino.

Parker kept repeating a mantra in his head “Last one, then I’m done” as held his gun high. Pointing it directly at innocents, he could see them shaking in fear.

“EVERYONE ON THE GROUND NOW!” He shouted, aiming his machine gun high.

“Don’t you fucking touch that button. I know what it fucking does.” Parker barks at the person behind the token counter. “Open the vault.” Parker said, pointing the gun at him.

“Why should I?” remarked the worker.

“Cause I fucking said so and I’m threatening your life,” Parker explained

“Enough of this shit!” He screamed, firing a few rounds close to the worker but not hitting him.

“You don’t have to do this. You could walk out of here, all of you. And we could go on with our lives. No need for money or the cops.”

“I think we both know that’s not gonna happen. I’ll ask nicely, please open the vault,” Parker mocked. “Boss said “start killing hostages in 10 minutes.” One of the other men whispered in Parker’s ear.

“Did you fucking hear that? We’re gonna fucking kill you if you don’t cooperate. So I suggest you open… the fucking… vault.”

“Sir, we can’t.”

“See this gun. LOOK AT IT! It has the power to put a bullet through your skull. Open the fucking vault. I won’t ask a fifth time.”

“That’s it. Now, type in the code.” Parker directed towards them.

The vault door creaked open, revealing trappings of pure wealth. Money stacked on tables, almost reaching the ceiling. And gold bars, glistened as the light reflected off of them.

“Now was that so fucking hard. Take all of it. Everything, even the gold.” Parker said, directly towards his men.

“Thank you, you’ve served you purpose,” Parker said to the worker, shooting him dead not even 3 seconds later. The screams of the other hostages echoed through the vacated room.

“Now to everyone here, there’s already one dead. I don’t mind making it more,” Parker barked.

“What’s your name?” Parker asked the nice looking girl kneeling on the ground.

“It’s not nice to not answer when someone asks you question, especially someone with a 9 caliber MP5K in your face. I ask again. What’s your name?” Parker spoke.

“Jane,” she whispered, shaking with fear.

“Well Jane, I want to thank you for your cooperation. You are in charge of talking to the cops, ok? And let your boss know, that Wilson is always watching,” Parker said, as he turned to leave.

“I will but you won’t get as far as you hoped,” Jane asserted, trying not to irritate Parker.

“And why’s that?”

“I know you. I remember you. You’d come in here with your dad.”

“You don’t know fucking shit!” Parker screamed.

“I know your name and that puts me at a high position of power,” Jane expressed, growing less afraid by the second. Realizing he is just some scared boy. Maybe not afraid of his own shadow but broken down by the fear of the world.

“I’m the one pressing fucking gun to your head. I HAVE ALL THE POWER!” Parker vociferated loud enough to shake the chandelier hanging above.

“You wish. Men like you always wish.”

“Seems like you’re doing some wishing yourself sweetheart. Wishing to be escorted out of here in a body bag. Now shut your fucking trap.”

“Hey. Let’s go. Leave her.” One of the Wilson’s men said, pulling Parker towards the exit.

“He still loves you and he’ll forgive you for this,” Jane shouted as Parker left.

Refusing to turn back, he had taken enough lives from this ill attempt at revenge. Parker didn’t know who he was fighting against anymore. Who was the hero and who was the villain?

All the wrongdoings as vast as the sea. All his attempts to make someone pay were misconstrued. Who actually deserved it?

The words of the woman replayed in Parker’s head. She was like a broken record, forcing him to listen to a truth he hoped to forget. How could Tom forgive him? Parker knew what he done was unforgivable. It was a mistake, all of it.

Parker marched into Wilson’s office and said, “Ever since I started working for you, my family has been in danger. I thought my dad was the reason for my girlfriends death, but I was wrong. I guess I’ll never know. Here Wilson, my gun. I quit.”

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing? I own you. I could end you, boy. Just like I almost did your parents,” Wilson barked.

“What?” Parker questioned, a look of confusion are on his face.

“Oh, please. You really think it was just a malfunction,” Wilson scoffed.

“What are you talking about?” Parker asked.

“Their helicopter. Pretty brilliant work, if I do say so myself,” Wilson gloated.

“They almost died.”

“Yeah and so? Your dad is my enemy. That is the whole reason you came to me in the first place.”

“You promised you wouldn’t hurt them,” Parker screamed. “Promises are meant to be broken. They don’t call me the Merchant of Death for nothing.”

Wilson was ready for the fight and been the one pulling the strings the entire time. Tom warranted no quarrel. Never being the instigator in a fight with Wilson.

They had been divided for years to come, focusing on their separate mobs. Only acknowledging each other if they accidentally crossed paths. There was Wilson’s mob, then a few others scattered round London such as Graham’s which was almost non-existent and Shaw’s which was mostly the drug scene. But Wilson was Tom’s biggest competitor. Being a part of then game for years before didn’t matter, Tom eclipsed Wilson just like the sun does the moon.

Or the moon to the sun, that was exactly Wilson’s play from the start. Taking out the pillars of Tom’s life. First a reason to have his son turn on him, the death of a loved one. Next, removing you from Tom’s grasp. Eventually a play had to be made on Rosie. Leaving Tom utterly alone.

Only thoughts that would cross his mind be suicidal ones, having lost everything he ever cared about. It was a long play, one Wilson vowed to see through. Wilson saw all his work as justice and merciful. Almost biblical, they way everything was playing out.

“It was you. All along. The fucking puppet master,” Parker mumbled under his breath.

“If you are talking about your little girlfriend, that was strictly business, nothing personal. But yes, I have been the one behind the scenes driving your father mad. Remember the note?” Wilson exclaimed.

“She didn’t deserve to die,” Parker shouted.

“What? Are you really upset? That was ages ago. Plus, I had to get you on my side somehow,” Wilson teased.

“Wait, you knew I’d come here?”

“Parker, how stupid are you? When will you grow up and learn this rivalry is just the beginning of a war. What side are you going to be on? You have a choice. I’ve warmed to you and I want you on my side as I take your daddy down.”

“That’s your first fucking mistake don’t have any weaknesses,” Parker admitted, taking a lesson from Tom. He drew is gun, point blank at Wilson.

“Parker, what are you doing? Put the gun down,” Wilson pleaded for his life.

“No, you made me into a cold blooded killer. Not my dad. I quit.”

BANG

After a loud thud sounded, the room was silent. Only a faint smell of smoke from the gun was there as Parker fled as quickly as possible.

Parker made his way home that night a changed man. All his kills in the pass were strictly business. Never driven by emotion but this one was personal.

It wasn’t a job or a hit. He was no longer a contract killer. Killing for the sake of money or an obligation. He was cold blooded killer.

In some twisted way, Parker enjoyed Wilson and his company. Looking up to him. He was then one who saved him from the horrible life he thought he was leaving behind. The one full of deceit and betrayal. The one with Tom, you and Rosie.

The one that led him to be next leader of the Holland mob. The one that resulted in the death of his beloved girlfriend. The one that had almost taken you and Tom away from him. The one that almost took his life. The one that forced him to kill for sport.

But no, he was wrong Parker brought that on himself. Parker’s naivety was his greatest enemy. He was just a child not too long ago. Once afraid of his own shadow, then afraid of failing at life and school, especially the SATs. Now, he was an adult burdened by problems a 16 year old should ever face. He could sit there and blame Tom, but it would do him no good when all he had to do was look in the mirror.

Parker was his own worst enemy. Searching for justice, when none could be found in a world wear mobsters roamed. Causing shootouts, robbing banks, and killing innocent people. People deserved to be avenged and Parker sure as hell wasn’t doing anything to aide.

Parker drove home, took four showers and threw his clothes away. Anything to wash off this abhorrent day. The next morning, Parker went on like nothing had changed. As if he didn’t shoot his boss and Tom’s rival in cold blood. As if didn’t only see himself as a cold blooded killer. Everything that he is and everything he owns soiled with the scent of murder.

He played it as though it was any other morning. Eating his pancakes and bacon before starting the day. Telling you about his plans for the day. Trying to keep his cool. The lovely morning breakfast conversation was interrupted once Tom’s phone rang.

RING, RING, RING

“Haz, why are you calling me? I’m having breakfast with my family,” Tom asked, annoyed his precious breakfast was interrupted. “Charlie is here, you need to get here. I have to tell you something,” Haz informed Tom. “Ok, I’m on my way,” Tom said, brushing off the request. Why would the

company’s electrical engineer for aeronautical transportation be there?

“Love, I’m so sorry but I’m needed at the warehouse. Thank you for this wonderful breakfast, wish I could enjoy it. Bye, kids. Have a good day at school,” Tom said, making his way out the door. Bidding you all goodbye.

“Haz, what’s was so urgent that I couldn’t finish my breakfast.” Tom barked, annoyed he was pulled away from you and the kids even on a Saturday.

“We were robbed last night. The casino.” Haz explained, his head hanging low.

“How the fuck? Did they catch them?” Tom seethed with anger.

“No, we do have eye witnesses though.”

“How much is missing?”

“About 11 million dollars, from cash to gold bars.” Haz said, waiting for Tom to explode.

“FUCK. We need to make them pay. I’m done playing fucking games.” Tom shouted, calming himself down for his meeting with Charlie.

“Now, you said Charlie was here, right?”

“Yeah, in your office.”

“Charlie? What are you doing here?” Tom asked, a little annoyed he was taken away from his morning with his family.

“Tom, I ran my report and did diagnostics tests and it’s not good,” Charlie started.

“What the fuck does that mean, Charlie?” Tom yelled.

“I think the helicopter was sabotaged.”

“What? You mean is that someone tried to take out my wife and I while we were on a helicopter,” Tom repeated, making all the connections necessary .

“Yes, it wasn’t just a normal malfunction. Did they ever find the pilot?” Charlie asked.

“No… Jesus fucking christ, if it’s true then…Fuck, I’m sorry I have to go,” Tom yelled, running out to the car.

“Jared, home now.”

“Mr. Holland is everything alright?” Jared asked, concerned by Tom’s frantic manner.

“No. I just found out the helicopter was sabotaged. I think someone might being trying to take out Y/N and I.”

“Come on baby, pick up,” Tom whispered, frantically dialing your number over and over.

“Y/N answer the god damm phone!” Tom shouted, when heard the same voice message over and over again, “Hi, this Y/N Holland please leave your name and number and I’ll get back to you as soon as possible.”

“God fucking dammit. Fuck, voicemail. Jared do you know where my wife is?” Tom yelled, afraid what your silence meant.

“Last I heard she was at the store getting groceries,” Jared explained.

“Fuck, I have here location on my phone. Change course,” Tom barked, praying you were okay. With the information he just learned he didn’t want to leave you alone, not even for a second.

“Y/N! You’re okay.” Tom said, inhaling a breath of relief. You were coming out of the store pushing a cart of groceries.

“Tom! Of course, I’m okay. What are you doing here?” You asked.

“I’ll explain later. Get Parker and Rosie we need to go home now.”

“They’re already home. Henry’s there also. You’re scaring me.” You said, Tom never acts like this.

Being a part of a mob there is a constant fear of someone behind you. All throughout Tom’s life he only had to worry about himself until he met you.

Tom’s worst fear is him being the reason you no longer walk the earth. The last week he had glimpse of life without you and didn’t care for it one bit. You weren’t a weakness but at the same time, you were. For anyone with a dangerous job there’s always a target on your back.

“Come on, love. In the car,” Tom motioned towards the car.

“Tommy, my car is here. I’ll meet you there,” you said, kissing his cheek goodbye.

“Ok just be careful please.”

“I’ll be fine.”

“Ok, Jared. Home now plea—“ Tom directed but was cut off by a loud BOOM.

“Jared, what the fuck was that?” Tom asked.

“Sir, it was Mrs. Holland’s car.”

“Y/N! Y/N?” Tom jumped out of the car. Nothing else mattered in that moment, only finding you.

Time stood still as thick black smoke bled through the air. Coating everything in its path with a faint ash. Screams echoed from the bystanders as the car went up in flames.

“Tom, I’m okay. It wasn’t mine.” You exasperated, coughing from the smoke. It wasn’t your car but it was close in proximity.

“Thank god. I can’t keep almost losing you,” Tom whispered, kissing you hairline.

“I’m here now.” The second you were in his arms you knew you were safe.

“Yes you are. It sure does look hell a lot like yours, though. Come on, I’m taking you home,” Tom said, wrapping his right arm around your shoulder.

Pulling up to the manor, everything looked different. There were more guards posted at every corner with heavier weaponry. Tom had the gate barricaded with another car in case some where to ram into the gate.

“Jesus, what took you so long?” Haz said

“They tried to bomb Y/N’s car. Thankfully the dumb fucks who planted it, picked the wrong car.”

“Tom you need to tell me what’s going on.”

“I will. Family meeting in the living room. Now.”

“Some of us have some secrets to share. I want to know everything that happened here while your mother and I were in Paris. Someone start talking,” Tom said, pacing in front of Parker and Rosie sitting on the couch.

Rosie and Parker were both hiding something. Rosie’s however was a rather monumental milestone. Rosie reminisced of her wonderful night with Henry while you and Tom were away. She loved Henry so much and was overjoyed to share that experience with him.

Rosie had told Henry at the wedding that she was ready to take that next step with him. Seeing you and Tom re-commit yourselves to one another affirmed that for Rosie. That she loved him more than anything.

“I’m sorry, dad. You don’t have to worry, we were safe,” Rosie blurted out.

“What?” Tom barked growing more anger by the second.

“Henry and I used a condom,” Rosie responded.

“Rosie?” You questioned, knowing what she was talking about.

“WHAT?” Tom screamed.

“That’s not what you were hinting at?” Rosie stammered.

“No, this is about Parker,” Tom reckoned.

“Fuck,” she mumbled under her breath.

“Where the fuck is he?” Tom yelled, bolting out of the living room. Looking for the boy who had stolen Rosie’s innocence. You and Rosie soon followed hoping Tom wouldn’t do anything rash.

“Dad!”

“Tom!”

“Henry, you bastard! You fucked my daughter!” Tom shouted charging at Henry.

“Oh shit,” Henry muttered, he knew Tom could kill him in an instant.

“You went in my daughter! What’s stopping me from killing you right now.” Tom asked with gritted teeth, hoping this dumbass wouldn’t answer.

“Tom, put him down,” you said, as Tom was gripping his collar and dangling him in the air.

“Daaaadddd.”

“Tom, please,” you pleaded as Tom held a gun square to Henry’s head.

“The safety is on, I was never gonna shoot him. Just make him shit his pants a little. From now on, you two can’t be here alone. And if you are in your room the door needs to stay open,” Tom said, pointing fingers at Rosie and Henry.

“I believe we have more important business to get to. Now come on,” you said, pulling Tom away.

“Y/N, you know I was never going to actually hurt the boy right?”

“Yes, Tommy. Now please resume the family meeting.”

“Parker. Do you have something to tell us?” Tom asked, knowing his son will lie.

“I’ve been sneaking out at night and I’m sorry,” Parker started, you could hear the disappointment behind his voice.

“Why? I know it’s not because of a girl. I want to know everything,” Tom explained, fucking tired of all the lies.

“Everything?”

“Everything.”

Parker began by explaining how he felt by the loss of Charlotte and how he turned to Wilson. In Parker’s mind he was doing the right thing. Serving justice to those who wronged others. But in reality he was the one committing the wrongdoings.

Parker came clean that he was the one killing all of Tom’s men and that he killed Jazz. That he went Wilson before coming to Tom. Becoming Wilson’s secret hitman was never supposed to go this far. He only intended for it to be a big fuck you to Tom. Not destroy his livelihood and his family in the process.

Including all the details of Wilson’s secret agenda of taking you and Tom out. But Parker left out the fact that Wilson was no longer a threat. Having taken care of him the day before.

“I’m sorry. I should’ve never been this naive and stupid. I’m the one you’ve been searching for. I’m the rat,” Parker exclaimed. “Dad, say something,” he pleaded.

“Get out,” Tom said with an unchanging expression.

“What?”

“I said get the fuck out!”

“Tom,” you tried to reason.

“You are no longer my son. Betraying me, betraying your family. Get out.” Tom screamed.

A/n: I’m sorry. I like the content in this chapter but not the writing.

Guns, Glamour and Goodfellas Masterlist

taglist: @thenoddingbunny-blog @dummiesshort @adriannauni @bi-lmg @allthisfortommy

#tom holland #tom holland imagines #tom holland series #tom holland fanfic #tom holland mob au #tom holland au #tom holland x reader #tom holland fan fiction smut #tom holland imagine #tom holland masterlist #mob!tom x reader #mob tom #mob!tom #mob!tom holland #mob!tom x mob!reader #mob!tom holland x reader #dad!mob!tom holland

[some-kindofgnome]

Kinktober #8: under his loving gaze: Steve Rogers & Bucky Barnes

In which Steve discovers it’s possible to love two people to the bone and still be crushed by loneliness. 

Characters: Bucky Barnes, Steve Rogers (sort of) x f!Reader

Warnings: smut (18+ please!) VOYEURISM of the truest, you-don’t-know-you’re-being-watched kind. Vaginal sex. Male masturbation. Lots and lots of pining for not so many words. 

Notes: Another one for my Marvel friends today :) The prompt for day eight is ‘Voyeurism,’ and does he ever watch. Somehow this one turned angsty. I... don’t think I’m sorry, though. 

Kinktober Masterlist

Friday nights never used to be this pathetic.

Steve’s not completely sure when he got so boring. Even when he was a kid, Bucky always had one place or the other to drag him on the weekends. He’d stumble in from a backbreaking shift at the docks, c’mon Stevie, the city awaits, and Steve never really wanted to go, but it was Bucky’s sweat that paid for the roof over their heads, so he never felt good about saying no.

These days, though, his idea of fun is an evening pouring over his briefings. Letting the security footage from the compound flick idly across the monitor. He doesn’t need to watch it. Not when there’s an AI system more sophisticated than any on the planet monitoring their premises.

But Steve’s always been a little old-fashioned.

Tonight, there’s something else on his mind. It’s not something that should be plaguing his thoughts, but his brain doesn’t often listen when he decides he doesn’t want to think about something.

“Gonna be taking your post again tonight, Captain?” Tony’s voice, no matter how genuine, always felt edged with an air of mockery. Tonight’s dinner had been no different. Above the idle chatter surrounding plans for the weekend, he’d decided to speak up.

“Whaddaya mean?” Sam had asked, quirking an eyebrow in Steve’s direction with a bite of chicken-something (prepared by Vision) halfway to his mouth.

“Oh, you haven’t heard?” Steve remembers low dread curling in his gut at the snappy response from Tony, knowing he was setting up for a lethal blow. “Steve’s been watching all of you do the nasty.”

After his cheeks had gone an appropriate shade of maroon, Steve sputtered through the rest of dinner, insisting that there weren’t any security cameras installed in private areas of the compound.

Then again, based on the way that Tony’s eyes had sparkled once he let the subject drop, Steve isn’t so sure anymore.

The mystery of whether seems hell-bent on keeping Steve from getting any work done tonight. Any time he so much as lowers his eyes to the page, the question plagues intently at the corners of his thoughts, forcing him to re-read the same briefing line at least a dozen times before he gives up and pushes the papers aside.

He’s just going to have to figure it out. Once and for all. He slumps over the edge of the desk, taking the mouse in one oversized hand and navigating to the edge of the window that he’s got open- flicking through the normal course of security footage. Front door, hallways, kitchen, gym, garden, repeat.

Steve is not blessed with extensive computer knowledge. But he knows that the black bar at the top of the screen, scrawled with words like file, edit, preferences, refers to a list of possible commands. So he keeps clicking through them, scrolling through each option until he finds something that points him in the right direction.

Under the view tab there’s another series of options. After mousing over one called ‘cycle settings,’ he realizes that the current feeds cycling through the monitor are only one option of many.

His eyes find ‘quarters’ far more quickly than he would care to admit. For an honest moment he sits there, cursor highlighting the option. He chews hard at his lower lip.

It wouldn’t be right. It would be a violation of privacy. But it’s Friday night. Steve’s willing to bet that hardly anyone is even home at the moment. What’s the worst thing that could possibly happen?

Oops, he thinks to himself as he clicks, curiosity getting the best of him. My hand slipped.

The feed that pops up before him is, as he expected, mostly empty. Some of the bedrooms are unused, showing bare rooms with bare mattresses and naked walls.  Even the ones that are designated to his teammates are mostly unoccupied right now, some beds neatly made, some haphazardly rumpled.

There’s a flicker of motion out the corner of his eye that draws Steve’s attention. His heart clenches. Hard.

It’s your room. And you’re there, but you’re not alone.

The relationship that you have with Bucky is no secret. You connected with one another right away, finding peace in one another and happiness. You’ve turned Bucky into a shred of the man he used to be- smiling, grabbing for you in the kitchen, holding you close when you gather in the common room to watch movies or binge Seinfeld.

Steve’s supposed to be happy for you. Both of you. The two most important people in the world to him have found happiness with one another.

But he can’t help the rush of greed that consumes him every time you’re in front of him. Every time you put that love so proudly on display.

He wants you both for himself.

He clicks on the feed and it quickly expands to fill the entire monitor. This way, it’s easier for him to see the way Bucky looks, laid out on top of your stretched body. His knees are between your thighs, and though his hair hides your faces in a sweep of chestnut, his body doesn’t hide the way his hands are currently working themselves under the edge of your tank top, crawling up your ribcage as he kisses you like a man starved.

Based on the angle of the feed, Steve can surmise that the camera is probably situated in the control panel by your door. He should have guessed. Tony’s a sneaky bastard at the best of times. And the concept of boundaries has always been a foreign one to anybody named ‘Stark.’

Bucky rucks your shirt up over your bare chest. Steve swallows hard. He glances over his shoulder to make sure the door to his study is closed, then turns his attention back to the screen. Bucky’s palming one of your breasts, but he’s already kissed his way down to your chest and sucks attentively at the other one.

He’s worshipping your body. God, he’s so in love with you. Steve’s not sure which one of you he wishes he could be. Both. Neither. He wants to be in the middle.

His cock is already beginning to twitch to life inside his stiff chinos, and he shifts a little to palm the growing swell of it down one thigh. His mind is working a mile a minute- wrestling between how badly he knows he shouldn’t be doing this and how badly he wants to anyway.

Bucky tugs your sweatpants down over your hips in one swift motion and Steve reaches for his fly. He can’t fucking take this anymore.

It’s not like you’re going to look over and see him there, peering at you from the other side of the camera.

He’s just thankful that there’s no sound, or he would have definitely lost it by now. He can see the way your lips are moving, though, and imagines what you might be saying to each other. Are you tender? Dirty? He wants to know it all.

Bucky’s got your pants off now, and he’s shimmying out of his shirt, too. Steve tries hard not to admire the graceful dip and swell of his best friend’s muscles. He’s loved Bucky since he was a chubby-cheeked kid, and he wished that neither of them had ever been touched by any of this. But Bucky’s beautiful now, gorgeous in a way that Steve will never be. He handles his new mass with elegance.

The dull silver glint of a dog tag dangles from Bucky’s throat as he crawls up your body again, shucking down his pants. Steve’s already digging through the fabric in his lap, pushing the folds of his pants aside and pulling out his cock. He can’t stop. It’s like his limbs are moving all their own.

You’re both naked now. To Steve, it’s like a trip to the Louvre. Priceless artwork laid out for him alone. Both your bodies are so perfect. He never knew that he could want two things, two people so badly, but to choose between you would be to choose between breath and heartbeat.

He grips the base of his cock and groans as he watches Bucky line up. He’s so careful with you, worshipping your body at every turn. He slips his metal hand beneath your thigh, intertwining his flesh fingers with yours. He leans down to kiss you, so slow and soft it makes Steve’s chest ache to watch.

He’s seen the two of you kiss before. But this is an intimate moment, meant to be shared by just the two of you. For an instant it hits Steve how intrusive this is, to be looking in on a ritual as tender and sacred as this one.

Bucky’s hips ease forward, clean lines of muscle sinking into the sides of his thighs. Steve’s hand gives an involuntary jerk. He needs this- no- deserves this- and what you never find out won’t hurt you.

For all the softness that Bucky’s shown you in the lead-up he settles into a brutal rhythm, pounding rhythmically into your body as your legs twine around his hips to pull him in. It’s even more beautiful to watch from afar, and Steve quickly matches the rhythm of your lovemaking with his fist, pumping his hips into a closed hand and slicking the fluid that leaks from his tip up and down the length of his shaft.

“Fuck,” he gasps, despite himself. “fuuuck.”

Bucky lasts longer than he does.

Steve can’t help himself. Bound by nothing but his own pleasure, he cums fast. His thighs hit the underside of his desk as he swears and jerks and tugs on his cock, bucking his hips into nothing and spurting quick bursts over his fingers and palm. The pleasure that rushes his system is little compared to what he’d feel if he were with you, but… it’s all he can bear to take for himself.

He stays to watch the two of you finish, transfixed by the way Bucky’s hand slips between your legs and your mouth pops open in a silent cry. Even without hearing you he can tell when you’ve hit your peak- your whole body shivers and he fucks you through it, calm and steady as the tide.

He doesn’t last much longer after that, though, and Steve watches in awe. Bucky draws up so tight before he cums it looks like he’s going to snap, all the tendons and muscles in his body stretched to the breaking point. And when it hits him, he collapses forward, thrusting madly into you before his knees go shaky and he just buries himself to the hilt and stops. He trembles against you. Trails kisses down your whole body. And when he pulls out, his softening cock is followed by a handful of fluid- so much- and Steve comes back to himself so quickly he closes the entire security program and unplugs the desktop.

The weight of what he’s just done settles over his shoulders. But, fuck, he loved it. The image of you and Bucky and your bodies moving as one is printed permanently into his mind.

As he cleans himself up and gets dressed again, he wishes there was a way for him to make you both see. If he could just show you how much he adores you, both of you, maybe you’d let him in. If you knew that he didn’t want to come between you, maybe things would be different.

For tonight, though, all he’ll have is stolen memories. And for now, it has to be enough.

#stucky x reader #stucky x you #steve rogers x reader #bucky barnes x reader #marvel #MCU #captain america x reader #kinktober #jbbkinktober2020 #steve rogers #bucky barnes #captain america #bucky

[theboredwritertm]

Din x Mandalorian!Reader x Cobb Vanth? Say like Din and the reader are partners and they’re both kinda into Cobb and if it’s your thing maybe the reader can be a little bossy?

The Arrangement

A/N: Sorry/not sorry for using that ^ gif - it made me laugh. (No, they don’t technically do anything in front of the kid.) There’s a lot of ways I could have taken this request, but honestly, I’m glad I went with this. (I may or may not have a part two in mind already). Also, I guess I’m just horny on main for this entire episode, since I want to write all my requests around it?? Hope you enjoy, anon! The request was for reader to be bossy – I might have accidentally made them a bit of an asshole, haha. Also, I ignored a lot of things on my to-do list to get this edited and posted today! 

Rating: I’m going to say 18+

Pairing: Din Djarin x Mandalorian!Reader x Cobb Vanth

Warnings: Swearing, partner sharing (cuckolding, I guess), like a bunch of smut at the end. 

Word Count: 7,272  (consider the first 3000 words foreplay)

Summary: You and Din are partners in every sense of the word, loyal to each other in every way, but you have one very simple arrangement: you can fuck anyone who takes your interest, and he gets to watch.

Tags: @justanotherblonde23

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

It was like the opening of a bad joke.

Three Mandalorians walk into a bar. One of them is an imposter.

You’d felt Din tense beside you the moment you’d spotted the familiar armor, both noting the casual way it was worn, as if it were merely an accessory to the man beneath it and not a reflection of his religion. This complete separation from the creed was further proven as the man you knew only as ‘The Marshal’ stepped up to one of the tables in the bar, calmly removed his beaten-up beskar helmet, and set it down on the wooden tabletop.  

You’d had to pause for a moment as you took in the face in front of you, all thoughts of backing Din up about the beskar not belonging to this man suddenly far from your mind. He was older than you – older than Din, too, if his greying hair and beard were anything to go by – but there was a youthful kind of mischief to his face, in the way he gazed curiously between the two of you. 

You’d traveled the galaxy and seen a lot of faces in your time, and this certainly wasn’t the first handsome one – but, Maker, if there isn’t something just a little bit tempting about it… 

You turn your head, now, to look at Din. Though he gives no sign of noticing, his visor still directed forward, you knew he’d sensed the movement – understood the intention. His helmet dips almost imperceptibly for a moment, then he turns his head to look back. You grin beneath your visor. It had been a long time, but he still remembered the gesture; a silent approval regarding a long agreed-upon arrangement between the two of you. 

It was simple: you could choose any man who caught your particular interest – though, with a man like Din by your side, you couldn’t say there’d been many – and Din got to watch.

You loved Din, had been by his side for years now, but you’d be lying if you said your first thought at that moment hadn’t involved getting pinned against the wall in some dusty, back-room by the man in front of you and letting him drill you to the point of oblivion.  

The Marshal sits staring between the two of you with a lopsided grin that certainly doesn’t help with your current line of thinking, eyes sparkling with easygoing humor. 

“Never met a real Mandalorian,” he states, as he takes a seat and sets down three cups and a bottle of what you recognize as spotchka. “Now, two walk into my town. What are the odds?” He glances between the two of you as he carefully pours out three equal serves, sliding two of the cups in your direction in what you assume is a peace-offering – or maybe just a show of small-town hospitality. 

“I’d say they’re in your favor,” you reply, your sly smirk clear in your tone, even through the modulator. Din throws you a look for how obvious you’re being, but you can’t say you care. If the man manages to pick up what you’re putting down early on, so be it. It makes things that much easier for you.

The Marshal looks up at you, curiosity clear on his face as he hears your voice for the first time, not expecting you to be a woman. Your armor doesn’t give that away – forged for protection rather than showing off what’s underneath – and even though you are a little smaller in stature compared to the big guy next to you, he wouldn’t have made the assumption. He’d fought all shapes and sizes and knew that size didn’t always denote ability – or gender.

“From what I’ve heard about your kind, I figured at least one of us might not be walking out of here. But now,” he says, gesturing with a nod towards you, since you’ve given yourself away, “Between her and the kid, I’m thinking maybe this isn’t the kind of situation I thought it was gonna be.”

You’re deep in thought about the kind of situation you’re hoping it’s gonna be, when you feel little hands grasping at the back of your leg. You look down. Right. The kid. You’d been so busy picturing every position you’d let this man bend you into, you’d almost forgotten about the little womp rat. 

The Child looks up at you with big eyes and raises his little arms in a gesture you’ve grown familiar with over the past few weeks. Conceding to his demands, you reach down to scoop him up. Not that you and Din were ever particularly careful when it came to sex, but you really hadn’t expected to be thrown into parenthood like this. You doubted a town like this offered much in the way of babysitters, and even if it did you didn’t think Din would trust just any person to watch over the kid; not after everything you’d been through so far to keep him safe. And certainly not just to satisfy whatever devious thoughts were running through your head. 

“You got a name?” you ask, your eyes never leaving the marshal’s – even if he can’t see yours – as you settle the child in your arms. 

“Cobb Vanth,” he replies, and you’re glad to finally have a name to put to the face – something to whisper or cry out when the time calls for it. 

“Where’d you get the armor?” Din asks. 

Right. The armor. You’d completely forgotten about that.

“Bought it off some Jawas,” Cobb replies.

You cringe, knowing that’ll be a sticking point, especially for Din. It’s a mark of disrespect to the beskar, even if Cobb doesn’t know it. But you don’t think it’s enough to break the silent agreement you and Din have made. 

“Hand it over,” Din tells him, and you have to roll your eyes at his attitude. Always straight to the point.

Cobb seems to find something amusing about this. “Look, pal, I’m sure you call the shots where you come from, but ‘round here I’m the one who tells folks what to do.”

Bouncing the kid on your hip, you glance towards Din, wondering what he’s going to do and if that something will ruin your chances of carrying out the wicked ideas currently playing out in your mind. You know he’s got to hate being called ‘pal’ by someone like this – someone who wears the armor without any right to – in the same way you know Cobb is using the term just to stir him up. You glance back and forth between the two of them patiently, waiting to see where this goes.

“Take it off, or I will.”

Now, that’s more like it.

Clearly not how he meant it – at least you don’t think so…but then Din was prone to a darker humor that sometimes went over your head when you weren’t expecting it. Maybe he was fucking with you both.

You find yourself distracted by the way Cobb grins in response, unsure if it’s the way it lights up his attractive features, or if it’s his cocky kind of fearlessness that gets you the most. You didn’t encounter a lot of people who stood up to Din, and most of the ones who did were almost always bluffing, but, staring down a member of an infamous warrior clan, Cobb manages to look quite at ease. 

“Two on one? Doesn’t seem very fair,” he says, adding fuel to the thoughts running through your head. You’re sure you can change his mind on that.

“Maybe we can come to some sort of arrangement.” Your tone is low, words steeped with intention, and the way he looks back at you now says maybe he’s finally caught on. 

He glances between you and Din, trying to work out the dynamic here. You’re standing close – could just be business partners, but he thinks not. There’s something in the way the larger Mandalorian keeps pausing when you talk, as if, even with a baby in your arms, you’re the one who’s really calling the shots. He opens his mouth to give his answer, but before he can tell you the sort of arrangement that he thinks might be suitable, the ground begins to shake beneath you. 

Behind you, at the bar, cups, and saucers chatter and clank together on their shelves. One of the bottles of bright blue liquid shuffles towards the edge of the counter then dives, shattering on the floor below before the bartender can catch it. It’s a shame. Liquid is hard to come by out here.

Cobb stares at you both for a minute, then holds up a single, polite finger to give him a moment. Your gaze trails after him as he heads for the doorway, then you glance back towards the bartender to find they’re making a beeline for the back exit, too. 

You and Din exchange looks. Whatever this is, it looks like any kind of arrangement is going to have to wait.

***

A new arrangement falls into your lap in the form of an enormous, cock-blocking krayt dragon. 

As if driven by some constant compulsion to play ‘defender of the people’, Din agrees to take care of this problem for the town in exchange for Cobb’s armor. Of course, you follow along – you’re not completely heartless to their cause – though you’re not sure you’ve ever had to work this hard for a lay. After all, you’d had a much simpler way in mind for getting the man out of the armor.

Yet, as you travel towards the dragon’s lair, clutching onto Din in a manner you find a little undignified as you ride on the back of his borrowed landspeeder, Cobb begins to tell you some of his history – of how he came to be marshal of Mos Pelgo – and you find yourself growing more intrigued by the man. You’d never usually make the effort to get to know the people involved in your arrangements, knowing you’d probably never have to see them again, and sometimes extra information tended to get in the way of what should have otherwise been a simple one-night stand. You already had Din; you weren’t interested in getting to know someone else on that level. But as the night found the three of you lodging together at a Tusken Raider camp, you found yourself warming up to the man. 

So, now you’re sat around a fire, the three of you on one side, the Child on your lap, and several Tuskens across from you engaged in an odd, barking conversation with Din. You’d traveled enough to understand most of what was being said, but that didn’t mean you weren’t wishing they’d go back to the silent hand gestures they’d been using to converse with earlier in the day – the sounds were just so grating.

An argument eventually erupts over some smelly peace offering, a drink Cobb isn’t familiar with, and you’re amused to find that he’s a bit of a hothead. It’s a nice contrast to Din’s cool, calm nature. In an ironic twist, Din ends the row with a blast from the flamethrower on his arm and you turn the baby away from the heat, unfazed, used to this kind of behavior from your partner by now.

Cobb collapses back into his seat beside you, looking slightly defeated, and catches your quiet chuckle.

“You agree with all this?” he asks you, glancing between Din and the Tuskens in an irritated kind of disbelief. You both watch as Din moves to sit closer to the tribesmen to continue their strategizing. As far as you’re concerned, since this little endeavor is Din’s idea, you have no qualms letting him do most of the work. Cobb, on the other hand, used to being the one running things, seems mighty put-out.

“Me? I go where he goes.”

“Doesn’t seem that way to me.”

You look back at him and find his handsome face turned back towards you, looking like he’s trying to take in what he can’t see beneath your helmet. You smile. “No?” 

He shakes his head, looking amused. “Sometimes I get the feelin’ you’re the one in charge.”

You think of how best to phrase that, as two idiots in love, you and Din are prone to following one another into idiotic situations, but settle instead for trying your luck with something different.

“He’s got a habit of volunteering us for things. Personally, I had an easier way in mind for getting you out of that armor.”

You watch his face carefully, at least as much as you can make out in the flickering light of the fire. He seems to pause and take this in, not at all expecting it, then takes on a curious expression.

“Am I readin’ this wrong? I thought you two were together.”

“We are.”

He stares at you again and only looks more confused. But you can’t say he doesn’t look interested. It’s like he’s weighing up a few things.

“Well, forgive me for sayin’ so, but I am not about to risk gettin’ my junk blown off for manhandling some Mandalorian’s girl.”

This time you laugh a little louder, pleased to hear that he’s at least imagined it in enough depth that his intended actions might warrant that kind of reaction. Din looks over at the two of you for a moment before returning to his own conversation. 

“What’s so funny?” Cobb asks, smiling at you.

“That you think he’d have a say in that,” you reply. You watch him for a moment, finding this one of the few times you’re wishing you could take off your helmet and be properly face-to-face with someone. There was a lot you wanted to say to him, and not a lot of it could be said using words. 

“If it helps,” you add, “He’s cool with it. We have an agreement.”

Cobb’s staring at you, eyes bright with interest below a shock of salt-and-pepper hair, thinking a few things over. This isn’t a situation that he’s encountered before. Flirtatious women, sure; but none who seemed pretty attached to the man they were already with. He hadn’t even seen your face yet – but he’ll admit, that kind of adds to the thrill. 

“So, what, we do this right here, right now?” he half-jokes, glancing back at the surrounding tents as if the Tuskens might be so hospitable. He waits for your response, because in all honesty, he’d be up for it if you were.

“I figure we take care of the giant monster eating your townsfolk, first. Then, assuming at least two of us make it back alive, we see what happens.”

He chuckles.

“Sounds like a deal to me.”

***

It goes surprisingly well, aside from a very stupid stunt on Din’s behalf; one you’re quick to pull him up on, because for a split moment all thoughts of Cobb had evaporated from your mind at the very real prospect of losing him. 

There are still losses on both sides, of course – for the Tuskens and the Mos Pelgons. The krayt dragon had lost entirely. 

A celebration takes place in the bar that night, back in Mos Pelgo, and you imagine the Tuskens are having a little party of their own back at their camp, with enough meat now to feed their entire clan for weeks to come. 

Cobb’s sitting on his own, watching his happy townspeople with a smile, a bottle of spotchka in hand. He pours himself another cup - his third one. He’s waiting, now. Assuming you hadn’t been leading him on the entire time. You and your Mandalorian had disappeared not long after everyone had arrived back. Maybe it had all been a lie – some twisted game of foreplay the two of you had going on that you had never intended for him to be a part of. He’ll admit that handing over his armor back at the den of the dead dragon might not have been a smart play. He kind of preferred your idea for the handover. He sighs and takes a long sip of his drink. 

Oh well. 

He takes a moment to look around the room, remembering the last time they’d had such a joyful celebration – at least the first half of that night, back when the Empire had finally fallen, given how it had eventually ended. As he continues to look around, a flash of steel catches his attention towards the very back of the room. 

There you are, standing in the doorway. 

He wonders how long you’ve been there; if you’ve been watching him, and how the hell he hasn’t noticed. He’s not sure how he feels about that. Despite spending the past few days with you both, he’ll admit he’s still a bit intimidated. Especially by you. Still, when you beckon with a single jerk of your gloved index finger, he finds himself already on his feet.

Oh. Well.

He throws back the last of his drink, thinking that tonight he’s probably going to need it. 

***

You lead him up a flight of stairs in the back to a room that sits above the bar; a room where only moments earlier you’d set the final boundaries for the night with Din. 

Although you’ve done this a few times before, it’s still important that you remain on the same page. Most of his rules hadn’t changed from previous occasions: no sleeping with the outsider (actual sleeping, that is – it was a form of intimacy he drew the line at), no cumming inside of you (that was for him, and him only), and you were to always remain in control of the situation. 

There had been one unfortunate incident where the guest for the evening had proven a little too rough with you. The moment the dynamic had flipped, Din had left his seat at the sidelines and preceded to drag the guy – who had still been completely naked at the time – out into the darkened streets. You didn’t know what had happened after that and hadn’t bothered to ask.

You didn’t think you were going to have the same issue with the marshal. There was a gentleness about him that perfectly balanced with his cocksure attitude. He seemed respectful. A good man, just like Din. Maybe that’s what had attracted you to him in the first place – how the dirty could balance just right with the sweet.  

He follows behind you looking a little wary, but after everything you’d been through together in the last forty-eight hours, he didn’t see any reason not to trust you. Or maybe that was his dick talking. It had been a while for him. Most of the women in the town were married, and for those that weren’t, he was friends with most of their fathers – practically old enough to be their father. It wasn’t a situation he wanted to get himself into, especially not in such a small town. And Mos Pelgo didn’t exactly get a lot of visitors these days. He’d take his chances with you.

When he enters the room, he sees the other Mandalorian seated on a chair against the wall, facing the bed; completely still, hands resting on his beskar-covered thighs, waiting. 

“You know, I realized I haven’t even seen you, yet,” Cobb says to break some of the tension, turning back towards you as you hit the button for the door – tension only he seems to be feeling, apparently. You both seem oddly at ease. 

“And you won’t get to.” Your voice, though slightly distorted by the helmet, still manages to sound alluring. It almost manages to take some of the edge off your vaguely threatening undertone.

“Not even a peek?” he teases, but he knows enough about your people to understand what he’s getting himself into. “How’s that gonna work?” His eyes glide over your full form for the first time truly taking in your body. Admittedly, he’s looking for any unfamiliar lumps and bumps, but from what he knows Mandalorians are usually humanoid. He watches as you take out a long strip of cloth from one of your pockets.

“One rule for tonight. The blindfold stays on.”

“That’s it?” Cobb asks. He can do that. Hell, it wouldn’t be the first time, though at least he’d gotten to see that person’s face first.

You glance over at Din, catching the barely perceptible way he cocks his helmet, then add, “There are other rules, but for now those can wait. This is the most important.” You turn back to Cobb. “No living person can see us without our armor. This is The Way.”

“Huh,” he replies, thoughtfully, catching your choice of words. “After everything we’ve been through, you’re still threatening me?”

“It’s not a threat,” you say, and the gruffness added by your modulator does no favors in convincing him of this. He lets you secure the strip of fabric firmly across his eyes, then almost immediately after hears the hiss of your helmet being removed. Then your voice, clearer this time, hot breath against his ear: “It’s a guarantee.” 

He wonders if it’s possible to be terrified and turned on at the same time.

You barely pause to let this sink in before you’re pressing a mixture of kisses and bites down his neck. Though you’d lived a long time wearing the armor, letting it become like a second skin, you couldn’t deny the added pleasure of the cool, fresh air against your face once it was off. Then there was the added sensory layer of scent and taste. After spending hours with your head inside the confines of your helmet, breathing filtered air, you always found your senses heightened once you were finally exposed.

Cobb smells of sand and sweat, and as you trail a few light, teasing kisses along the lower line of his jaw, his beard bristling against your soft lips, you pick up the sweet-and-sour scent of spotchka on his breath. He turns his head in the direction of the armor seated opposite the bed, having momentarily forgotten about your one-man audience, giving you a much better angle of his neck in the process. As you continue working your mouth over him, he keeps his ears pricked for any sound of movement, feeling suddenly vulnerable in more ways than one.

“You sure he’s in there?” he half-jokes, voice breathy as you continue to lap at his sensitive skin. He could have sworn the armor hadn’t moved since you’d arrived.

“He’s in there. Let’s see what kind of show we can put on, and maybe he can prove it.”

You have his full attention now.

Completely blind, he fumbles to help you out of your armor, fingers finding straps to undo as he feels your hurried movements assisting him. There’s a number of clanks as heavy plates fall to the floor, and he takes a moment to run his fingers over you, feeling the cloth of your tunic still separating his fingertips from the warmth of your skin. It has to come off. He tugs at it, signaling this, and you happily comply. Once you kick your pants and boots off, you stand before him, confident and completely naked, a smirk tugging at your lips as you work out what you want to do with him first.

Din drinks in the sight of your bare figure. It still feels like a rare occasion when he gets a full view like this – so used to the dim lights of the Crest, since it’s one of the few places you both feel comfortable removing your armor – but even those opportunities have become rare now that you had the Child to worry about. It was a blessing that you’d managed to get the little womp rat to sleep in the adjoining room, but then Din wasn’t surprised – despite your ability to come off tough and uncaring, you were better with the kid than he had ever been. If there was one thing the Child might inherit from him, it’s a deep adoration for you.

Even from this seated distance, he can see how smooth your skin looks, his thoughts triggering a kind of muscle memory in his fingertips as he recalls all the times he’s run them across it. He’s almost tempted to call this whole thing off and take you for himself, leaning forward ever-so-slightly, hands braced against the arms of the chair, then Cobb starts to run his hands down along your curves and he catches the way you glance back at him. He’s always caught off guard by your beauty when he’s lucky enough to see you without the helmet, forgetting just how much he’s missing out on when you wear it. As a smile slants across your face in his direction, he settles back into his seat, heart thudding in his chest. He’ll happily let you enjoy this, if only to have you look at him like that forever.

Cobb’s adjusting to compensate for the sense he’s had taken from him, guiding his fingers slowly over your body as he tries to picture how you must look. He starts with your shoulders and you remain completely still across from him, waiting patiently for him to take you in with the only method he’s got left. He feels you shiver as he brushes his fingernails over your neck, then he reaches up for your hair. It’s longer than he’s expecting, given you have to wear it under a helmet all day, but silky and soft. He spends a moment running his fingers through it and you take the opportunity to close the gap between the two of you, grasping the back of his neck to encourage him down to your shorter level so you can press your mouth to his. The kiss becomes heated and has you backing him towards the bed. 

Pausing for a moment, voice breathless, you say, “You’re still dressed.” He grins and takes the hint. You watch as the layers of red are stripped off, then step in to help him with his belt, your mouths less than an inch apart, breath ghosting over each other’s lips as you watch his face for little reactions. Then he dips his head forward to find your lips again, both of you forgetting about his clothes for a moment as you become engrossed in the simple pleasure of the kiss. You feel him smile against your lips as your hands find his belt buckle once more, your fingers making quick, eager work of it. You pull back once it’s undone and let him take care of the rest, your gaze dropping down at the same moment his pants do to catch sight of what you’ll be working with. You’re happy with what you see. There was something to be said about a cocksure man with something to back it up.

Cobb resumes exploring your body as his fingers drift downwards this time; down your arms, briefly stopping to cup your breasts, smiling to himself when he rubs the pads of his thumbs across your hardened nipples and hears you sigh, then down along your sides, finally reaching your hips. His fingers dig in for a moment as he draws you in closer to his warm body, then in one swift movement, he scoops you up under your ass. You wrap your legs around him instinctively to keep you both steady and find yourself rewarded as his hot, hardened member unintentionally brushes against your folds. He has to stop for a moment when he feels how wet you already are, reminding himself he wants to take his time, despite the sudden urge to slide into you. He presses a couple more kisses to your cheek and neck, whatever skin he finds he can reach in this position, then carefully drops you down onto the sheets. They’re cool and refreshing after your long day in the desert heat, but you’d worked hard to set the room just right for your evening, sourcing these little luxuries in the short time you had after the fight with the dragon. 

You lay back so your head’s pointing towards the foot of the bed, towards Din, where you can easily look back at your man. You do so now and feel the heat of his gaze even through his visor. You glance down at his hands, which still rest on the arms of the chair, and see his fingers clutching tightly at the wood. 

Cobb feels his way up onto the bed, using the headboard to steady himself, looking to where he thinks you’ve landed, getting a feel for your position. He feels off-balance without his sight to help him. You’re still busy watching Din when a hand finds your thigh, and your attention is torn back to the marshal as he drops forward, caging your body with his arms. He presses warm, ticklish kisses down your belly, his close-cut beard scratching at your sensitive skin, using the intimate gesture to help guide him down to his intended destination. He ruts his throbbing erection against your thigh to help give him some relief, but that only seems to make it worse. Managing an impressive level of self-control, he shuffles back to give himself more room, then continues using his lips to map out your body. He starts at one of your knees, kissing his way down your thigh, catching the heavenly scent of your arousal as he nears your core. His face hovers above it, feeling the heat radiating off it like a sand dune at the end of a long, hot day, then he licks a stripe where your thigh meets your crotch, dangerously close you where you want him. Your hips rise ever-so-slightly off the bed to try and meet him, but he backs off, blowing cool air against you to tease. You reach down to run your fingers through his hair, urging him closer to you, and hear him emit a soft growl in response. 

When his mouth finally finds your center, you both moan – his sending vibrations that rattle your already-buzzing nerve-endings, yours a little higher pitched as you find a craving finally satisfied. You’d been thinking about this since your first run-in on the day you’d arrived in Mos Pelgo, and the relief it brings to your needy body is better than you could imagine. Still, as his tongue continues to work you up, your pussy clenches with the need for something to be inside of you – a finger, a cock, at this point you don’t care – and you wonder how long he’s planning to take before he finally fucks you.

He starts slow, his tongue pointed and direct as it traces circles and lines over your clit, then the more he relaxes, the sloppier his movements become. You much prefer it that way. The sounds soon coming from between your thighs – a combination of wet slurps and his delighted groans – are as lewd as they are divine, and you’re already fast approaching your first orgasm. As he continues to fuck his tongue into you, your hips bucking mercilessly against his face, fingers twisted in his hair, he hears you mutter something. It sounds almost like a chant. Words he can’t make out. Another language.

“Ni kar'tayl gar darasuum. Ni kar'tayl gar darasuum. Ner cyar’ika.”

Din’s currently entranced by the way your body is moving, his gaze firmly directed at the man between your legs as your cries and whimpers reach his ears like a favorite symphony; his hips grinding in tiny movements against the chair in an attempt to get some relief. Then he catches the familiar words spilling from your lips. He stills. They’re words you had only ever said to him, and for a moment he thinks they’re being wasted on the marshal. Then he looks at your face, sees your neck curved back, and realizes all this praise is being directed at him. His heart swells – along with certain other body parts – to have you still be thinking about him while your pleasure is at the complete mercy of another man. He thinks he’s never loved you more than at this moment, just to know that you’re his. It takes every ounce of willpower he has left to remain seated. 

The first shockwave of pleasure hits you harder than you’re expecting and the cry that rips from your throat, as if pulled from your very core, is so loud you wonder if the whole damn bar can hear you downstairs. As you ride through your waves of pleasure, your cries the only relief from the full-body torture, you think you probably don’t care. Let them hear. It’s a time for celebration, after all, and who’s to deny you yours.

By this time, Cobb’s slipped a couple of fingers inside of you, working you towards your second orgasm already, and you brace your body for the impending over-stimulation. Once his lips and tongue join in, you find it doesn’t take long; his deft fingers somehow managing to hit just the right spot as he presses a kiss to your thigh and curls his fingertips upwards. He keeps his fingers moving even as your whole body tenses up, your back arching off the bed, his tongue lapping at your clit as your mind goes blank. When you finally look back down at him to see a teasing smirk plastered on his face, along with the sheen of your juices, you know you can’t wait any longer. You push yourself up and take him by the shoulders, using the strength of your toned legs to flip him onto his back so you’re on top. He’s not expecting the sudden maneuver and releases an ‘oof’ then a soft chuckle. 

“Sick of that already, darlin’?” he asks, face still wet and shining as he grins beneath you. Even with half of his face covered by the blindfold, he’s still a handsome motherfucker.

You smile back and trace a couple of fingers down his cheek, managing to gather up some of your slick as you go. Looking over at Din, you lift your fingers to your mouth and lick the residue off of them, grinning when you hear the strained growl that rasps through his modulator. It was always a roll of the dice whether or not he would fuck you after you’ve been with someone else, but that sound was all you needed to hear to know that you probably wouldn’t be making it back to the ship that night.

You turn your attention back to Cobb, finally responding, “I could do that all night, mesh’la, but if I don’t get you inside of me soon, my partner’s going to have to step in, and I don’t want you feeling left out.”

He hums, pleased by how forward you are, and grasps your hips to direct you over him. His grip loosens when you push a hand down on his chest, forcing him back into some semblance of submission, then he releases you completely when you reach back and take hold of him. You stroke your hand up and down his length a few times, smiling to yourself as he bucks into your hand, then finally lean forward to place it at your entrance. You hover over him, his tip angled inward to hold him in place, and your palms come down to his chest to force him to remain still. He takes the hint, even if his hips are free and every instinct is begging him to thrust. He can feel the warmth of you, how slick you are against him, and knows that all he needs to do to relieve the feeling is a quick buck of his hips, but there’s something about the weight of you on his chest that has him completely at your mercy. You feel the small movements of his indecision, his hips twitching below you, then when he’s least expecting it, you slide down, full engulfing him. The tortured whine that erupts from him is reward enough for your patience. 

You start up at a rough pace, hands still pressed on his chest to balance you as you buck your hips and start to ride him. You look down at his hands and watch him clutching desperately at the sheets before he reaches back for you, hands hovering tentatively by your hips like he’s not sure you’ll allow it again. You grab hold of them and set them firmly against you. Taking the cue, he begins thrusting upwards. Soon, you’ve fallen into blissful sync, running your hands up to your chest and pinching at your nipples as you look back over at Din. His stance in the chair has changed since you last looked; his legs sitting a little wider, his body a little more slouched like he’s relaxed into it. His hands are back on his thighs, rubbing slowly at the beskar covering them, as if he’s fighting to keep them away from other parts of his body. Every so often you see his hips shift like he’s trying to gain some relief.

You’re caught off guard when Cobb sits up, but the new angle hits deeper and has you seeing stars. It’s put his face in a better position, his mouth now at level with your breasts, and as he pulls your body closer his lips and tongue latch onto one of your nipples. Your head drops back as you let out a deep moan and his thrusts begin to pick up, as if he’d been waiting for the signal. After being inside of your armor for almost a day straight, it’s a lot of sensation all at once, and with your pleasure fast approaching another peak, a familiar tightening in your lower belly, it’s almost hard to keep up. 

“How’s that, sweetheart?” Cobb asks between panting breaths, running his fingers down your back until his hands are cupping your ass again. “You like that?”

“Fucking perfect,” you reply. You reach for the back of his neck, tilting his head back as you look down at him from your position on top, and you find it’s a turn on in itself to have this kind of power over the man. You gently tug on his hair, giving you both a minute to bask in your shared pleasure before you lean down for a sloppy kiss, both too far gone to care. The minute you’ve parted Cobb buries his face between your breasts, grunting and moaning against you as his thrusts grow slow and uneven. You think that maybe he’s close, but the man’s self-control has proven impressive so far – he’s not going to cum until you do.

The tightening in your lower belly stretches towards its peak, threatening to break. Almost as if he knows, Cobb leans back, ever-so-slightly changing the angle of his hips, and suddenly he’s hitting a different spot, as if he was saving it for the perfect moment. Your pitch changes and you’re holding onto the man for dear life as your body goes into involuntary spasms around him, your fingers clawing against his back for purchase as he holds you tightly against him and forces you to ride it out. He pulls out at the last minute, since you’re currently so outside of your own body that you can’t remember to tell him to do so (and he gets the feeling your partner isn’t the type to let him mark you like that) and you feel warm spurts along your belly as he shoots his load against you, his strained groans adding one final note of obscenity to round off your pleasure. 

It takes you both a moment to return to your senses, and you lean down to kiss him again, ignoring the sticky sensation on your skin as you let the simple pleasure ground you. As you slip back onto the sheets, disentangling yourself from him, you look around for something to clean yourself up with but come up short. 

“Just use the sheets,” Cobb tells you, like he’s reading your mind, “I’ll wash’em up later.”

Your gaze narrows, though you’re too hopped up on endorphins to be concerned about much of anything right now. “Can you see through that thing?”

He grins as he falls back onto the bed, utterly spent, and shakes his head. “Just figured you wouldn’t be too keen on keeping my mess on you too long,” he replies, and it’s enough of an answer for you. 

“I could have said the same to you before,” you reply.

“I don’t think I’m wrong in sayin’ yours is much finer than mine. If there wasn’t a drop left to drink in this town, I think I’d find a way to live on what you just gave me.”

You chuckle, still soaking in your blissful afterglow. “All your townsfolk would go thirsty,” you comment with a smile.

“And it might just be worth it.” 

You know he doesn’t mean that – not after everything he’s gone through to save the town – but the sentiment is nice all the same, and you show him your gratitude with another kiss, intending to make it your last. Then it deepens, grows heated, and you find you have to pull away to gain back a little self-control. You part, both of you laughing, satisfied, and you reach for the sheets to wipe yourself down. Your skin still feels sticky afterward, but you doubt there’s much in the way of hot showers right now considering the water situation in the town, so you’re content to wait until you reach the Razor Crest, knowing you’re at least guaranteed better bathing in its refresher. 

As you look at Din, at the ruined way he’s sitting even though he hasn’t even touched you or himself yet, you think that if you both even manage to make it as far as the Razor Crest, you’re definitely guaranteed a better bathing experience.

“So, how’s this work? We never see each other again?” Cobb asks, hands resting behind his head, looking in your general direction with the blindfold still respectfully secured across his eyes. 

You look over at him as you begin to redress, beginning with your socks, still conscious of Din’s heated gaze on your back as you purposely bend over in front of him to pull them on. “Not usually.”

You catch the quick way the corner of the marshal’s mouth pulls down in a click, realizing he’s disappointed by this news, and then glance over your shoulder at Din. He’s inched forward in his seat, elbows resting on his knees, hands hanging lazily between his legs, as his gaze rests between your legs where you still glisten from your romp, and it takes him a moment to tear his eyes away and look up. But he seems to catch the meaning in your glance. His helmet tilts slightly to the right – consideration. 

You smile and step towards him in nothing but your socks, running your fingers down the sides of his helmet affectionately. He finally allows himself to reach out and touch you, his gloved hands grabbing handfuls of your ass, cold steel helmet resting against your belly, as you look back at the marshal.

“But I might find a way to make an exception.”

A grin blooms on Cobb’s face as he imagines all the things he’s yet to do to you – or, perhaps even better, all the things you’re yet to do to him. “I sure hope so.”

And honestly? So do you.

#din djarin x reader #cobb vanth x reader #mando x reader #fic request #the mandalorian

[peaceoutofthepieces]

Sink Or Swim

tag list: @cleocc @feeling-kinda-so-so @hopelessromanticvirgo @dreamy-slytherin @adora8 @lockerfivethreefive @painfully-oblivious @poeticinemaa @jjustonemorething @sassy-sara @wedarkacademia @coolguyssyndrome @hischbabe @suckerforsobbe @tayspots @starmansander @theah0lt @zoenneforever @invisibleme @chibibanane @odi-et-amo85

~^~

Sunday, 14:07

Song: Sam Smith - How Do You Sleep

Lucas feels a little ridiculous, smiling dopily at his phone while he sits at the kitchen table, but it’s impossible not to. He always smiles at messages from Jens—has done since first meeting him—and now his joy is only doubled.

I think Jana is suspicious

suspicious how?

Lucas scrolls back up to the message Jens had sent him earlier while he waits for him to respond. Lucas had woken up to it—an image of Jens still in bed, pouting into his pillow. The accompanying message had simply read ‘not as comfy as yours’.

He scrolls back down when Jens replies.

she’s giving me that look. the suspicious one. all knowing and smug and shit

Lucas smiles, giving a tiny shake of his head.

maybe you should stop texting me and actually spend time with her then? don’t forget it’s your last chance

why thank you. now I’m sad :(

okay. I’m gonna ignore you now but know that I don’t want to </3

dumbass. you can text me later

Lucas hesitates a moment, and then sends one final message.

<3

“What are you smiling at?”

Lucas looks up at his dad and hastily places his phone on the table. He’d forgotten he wasn’t in the room alone, that his dad is only at the sink, washing the dishes. He’s looking over his shoulder at Lucas in amusement, and Lucas crosses his arms on the table and shrugs him off. “Nothing, just the guys.”

“The guys as in Kes and Jayden, or new guys?” Hugo asks.

It would be very simple. Lucas could just say Kes and let the conversation drop. He wouldn’t have to explain anything. He’d be asked the easy questions; how are they doing, does Lucas miss them. It might be the best segway into organising a trip home soon.

It’s also clear that his dad is trying, and Lucas decides it probably wouldn’t be the worst thing to put in the same effort.

“New.”

Hugo hums approvingly as he leaves the last plate aside and turns off the tap. He grabs a towel before turning around, leaning back against the counter as he dries his hands. “Anybody special?”

Lucas works very hard not to blush and give himself away, because the truthful answer is yes. Jens is incredibly special—the word doesn’t even seem sufficient to describe him.

But Lucas isn’t about to tell anyone else that, much less his father.

“No,” Lucas groans, rubbing a hand over his face for emphasis, hoping that’s enough to get past the subject.

“What? Smiling like that, what am I supposed to think? You know you didn’t even make a single snide comment during lunch?”

“Did you want me to?”

That earns him a withering look. “Lucas, come. Tell me about it. Your friends, at least. I let you out to that Halloween party and you haven’t even told me who you were with.”

“I didn’t know going outside came with terms and conditions,” Lucas mutters.

His father merely raises a brow. “When you were originally grounded, it does, yes.”

Lucas relents by letting his shoulders slump.

“Did you smoke?”

“I didn’t, actually.” Lucas resists the urge to roll his eyes, but he’s disappointed that this seems to have turned into an interrogation. For once, for some reason, he’d thought it would be better. They’ve been more amicable over the past week, casual with each other, with Hugo actually making it home in time to have dinner with him on occasion.

“That’s slightly impressive,” Hugo allows, moving to sit down with him at the table. “And did you have fun?”

Lucas shrugs. “Yeah, it was fine.” It was better than fine. It was the night he and Jens had almost kissed.

But, again, he isn’t about to tell his father that.

“You’re really not gonna give me anything, huh?” Hugo nudges his arm. “What about Saturday then? Where’d you disappear to that night?”

A smile flits on to Lucas’s lips. “Trick-or-treating.”

“Ah, well, now you’re just making fun of me.”

“No, I’m serious,” Lucas protests. “I went trick-or-treating with Jens and his little sister.”

He’s confused for a moment as to why his father brightens, but he quickly lets Lucas know what he’d latched onto. “Is that finally a name?” Lucas’s smile drops as his dad leans towards him, urging him on with a wave of his hand. “Jens, tell me about Jens.”

Lucas absolutely cannot do that. His pulse spikes, but he quickly tamps his fear down. His father has no reason to expect anything beyond friendship. He’s just asking Lucas to tell him about his friends. Lucas can tell him about Jens without giving him any of the...details.

“I don’t know. He’s Jens. I met him at—“ Lucas quickly cuts himself off, remembering that he’d snuck out to that party after his father had gone to his room. “I met him at school at the end of my first week. He kind of got me into his friend group.”

Hugo nods, pleased, but not entirely satisfied. “What’s he like?”

“He’s...cool. He skates, he’s chill. He kind of reminds me of Kes, I guess.”

“I’d like him, then?”

Lucas has to admit that he hasn’t thought about it much, but now that the man has put it out there, he likes the idea. It’s not really something he’d ever looked for, before—his father’s approval. He supposes it’s different, now that they’re on their own. He’s been worrying about what the boys will think, trying to figure out how to tell Isa, wondering what Jens’s friends will say. He has thought about telling his mother.

He hasn’t really considered his dad much, beyond how best to sneak Jens around him.

“Yeah,” he says quietly, “I think so. He’s a good guy.”

Hugo smiles. “I wouldn’t expect you to pick anything less.”

Lucas can’t help but find a deeper meaning in the words, for just a second, and feel his heart warm. Then he crushes the idea and comes back to the matter at hand, and decides he can’t give anything more away. “Should I tell Jayden you think he’s good, then?”

“You’ll do no such thing. I love the kid, but it’s a tough love.”

Lucas snorts, shaking his head slightly, surprised again at how at-ease he feels. Maybe he is misjudging, just slightly. Maybe he should try a little more.

He’s even more surprised when his dad gives his hair a fond ruffle as he rises, standing next to Lucas with a hand on his shoulder. “If you don’t have any plans today, you wanna watch a film with me?”

Lucas’s brows raise slowly. “What film?”

“Your choice.”

It’s a good offer that Lucas doesn’t really have a reason to refuse. Trying, he reminds himself. “Sure.”

Hugo grins and pats his shoulder. “Good. I’ll go set up the TV and you can get us the ice cream.”

“You got ice cream?” Lucas asks, disbelieving, as his dad makes his way out of the room.

“I know my son. Of course I got ice cream.”

Lucas finds himself grinning after him, shaking his head to himself in an attempt to snap out of it. He doesn’t have to, he realises. He should take this treacherous peace and allow himself to enjoy it. Maybe things are simply going right for once.

Maybe the universe is on his side, after all.

He picks his phone back up before getting the dessert, seeing another notification from Jens, but this time in the form of an Instagram post. Lucas clicks into it and finds an image of him and Jana. They’re both pouting, eyes closed, and Jana has her arms wrapped tightly around his neck, pressing their cheeks together. Jens has simply captioned it, ‘miss you already’.

There’s a low thrum of jealousy in Lucas’s stomach, at first, but the longer he looks at it, the easier he finds it. Eventually, it draws a smile onto his face. He remembers what Jens had told him, the night of the Halloween party, and what Jens had told him yesterday, and he merges it all together and reminds himself of how Jens had kissed him, over and over, going so far as to ask Lucas if he could stay forever.

He smiles to himself as he likes the post, then slips his phone back into his pocket before going in search of the ice cream.

#van der stoffels #vds #wtfock #skam nl #sink or swim #vds season fic #sos clip

[hopesbarnes]

Black Swan (15)

Summary: Y/N used to be a Russian spy under the code name Black Swan. But that was a lifetime ago, now she’s a part-time avenger, dance teacher, surrogate sister to Natasha Romanoff, and trainer to new Shield Agents. She’s come a long way from the days of killing targets and being tortured. But when someone from her past comes around will she be able to ignore her history anymore? Or will she end up falling in love with the only man her sister ever loved?

A/N: Just the epilogue left. Major shoutout to @starbxcks​ I really wouldn’t be posting this without you.

P.S. Does anyone want to see the solo costumes, and the videos I found of what I imagine the dances to look like?

With one week until competition season officially began, and arguably the most important competition of the season you were stressed. Every day was hectic with practices. Bucky tagged along every day as your unofficial assistant. He kept notes for you and learned everything he needed to know in order to assist backstage. Sometimes it was hard to keep track of that many girls at once, and while you could handle props yourself it was easier to have someone else do so. 

He kept track of your masterlist of what was required for each dance (shoes, costumes, hairpieces, props, etc) and who was in what dance. He also wrote down every little thing you needed to remember, and you have no clue how you did competitions before him. You managed to wrangle Natasha, who had watched your previous competitions, and Clint to assist. She agreed to help with stretches and hair/makeup while Clint would mostly be moral support and do the heavy lifting.

On Friday morning the four of you, in separate cars full of props, suitcases, and random assortments of things needed for the weekend, drove the three hours to the competition. All the girls (and boys) competing would head over after school ended in time for a nightly meeting you were holding. 

Bucky was practically bouncing the entire car ride, asking questions about how the weekend would run and the chances the girls would win. After the week of hanging around the studio, the girls started calling him ‘Mr. Bucky’, and even gave him a few “Team DAD” shirts to wear the weekend (one of them just so happened to be covered in glitter). He protested saying he wasn’t a dad, but they deemed him as such anyway. It just went to prove that children hold no judgments, even when a giant super-soldier with a metal arm is in a dance studio.

The rest of the day was a blur. You checked into the competition and dropped off props, had lunch with Bucky, Natasha, and Clint-which wasn’t as weird as you thought it would be. Clint and Bucky quickly fell into a joking rhythm-, met up with the team and handed them their goody bags and door decorations, wished them all a good night’s sleep, then ate in your room and went to bed early curled up against Bucky.

------

Bucky’s three alarms went off at 4:30 am and both of you got up and took a shower and got dressed in your shirts with the dance studio name on them, yours saying “COACH” and Bucky’s saying “TEAM DAD”. You applied some glitter eyeshadow and added a bow to your hair while Bucky put his in a half french braid. Within no time at all you had packed your bags for the day and headed to grab breakfast.

The entire day was packed, your first number started at 8 and the last was at 4 pm. Thankfully, everything was relatively spaced out and the little kids weren’t until 3 o’clock.

Natasha and Clint ended up joining you in the ballroom hallway at 7, both excited as well. They went off to help do hair and makeup while you gathered your two soloists for warm-up. You placed the hair strips in their hair and Bucky double checked that they would stay in place and they had everything they needed. 

They both warmed up fine, and went on stage and absolutely crushed it. All the girls from the studio cheered loudly for both of them and they both scurried off to get ready for their other dances. 

You met up with the two seniors for their duet at 11, and you walked them through stretches. Bucky and Clint were helping with props, so Natasha joined you backstage. The two dancers practiced their lifts and they went off without a hitch. You almost had tears watching them, and they weren’t even going full out with emotions or all the steps. 

As you waited in the wings for them to go on, Bucky found you and gave you a quick kiss before holding your hand as they went on stage. 

Their dance was beautiful. They took the steps you gave them and brought them to life. Every movement was purposeful and their faces depicted the emotions so well. You could see the story they were telling through their dance and let out a few tears. 

When they finished and came off stage you hugged them both tight, thanking them for the job they did. It was amazing, and everything you ever hoped for. 

---

There was a lunch intermission between the solo, duets, and trios before groups started in the afternoon. Clint brought food for you, Nat, and Bucky and the three of you found a table to eat at. The boys talked about how insane the dancers were and how they didn’t even think they could do what these kids did. Natasha talked about how she wanted to possibly join the studio on a part-time basis because she didn’t realize just how much she missed it until now. 

After finishing up lunch you gathered the little kids and made sure they all had their correct tights and shoes. You put their hair accessories in and sat them down to remind them to point their feet and smile wide. They ran through their routine fine and were adorable on stage. Afterward, you made sure each girl found their parents or were with Natasha before gathering the large group with Bucky and practicing the dance, making sure the girls were still stretched and energized. 

One girl scraped her knee pretty bad and you went to find a first aid kit, only for Bucky to open his backpack and pull out a kit with everything a dancer could ever possibly need. He disinfected the wound, bandaged it, and had the girl back on her feet ready to perform. You kissed him on the cheek and thanked him for being as amazing as he was. 

The girls were set backstage, and you had enough time to run out to the audience for this dance. You managed to grab two seats in the front and Bucky and you watched the girls give it their all.

Against all odds, every single dance was perfect and there were no major hiccups with any routine. It was by far your best competition, and you know for sure it’s because of the team you had with you. 

After a few more hours, the girls all gathered on stage and you sat in the audience with Bucky, Natasha, and Clint. They went through individual genre categories first, and all of your dances were given platinum (highest score) and managed to take first in their respective categories. All the dances qualified for nationals and that took a huge weight off your chest. 

But what you really wanted was for the solos to place top 3 overall, your groups to take first in their size group, and possibly for your duet to take overall first place. You crossed your fingers and silently hoped throughout the awards.

They announced your solos, and your girls placed second and fourth. The girl who got fourth looked slightly disappointed but smiles nonetheless. Your duet placed first for duo/trios and you jumped up excited. 

The two group dances scored first overall for small and large groups respectively. The announcer announced that the last award of the night would be the overall highest score for the entire competition. 

“And with a perfect 300, Gravity!” the announcer said and you almost screamed. Bucky and Clint jumped from their seats, while Natasha dove to hug you. Nothing mattered but the joy you felt in that moment. 

After every competition, the whole team books a restaurant. This one was no different, and after the end of the awards, all the families make it to a restaurant a couple of minutes away. The girls are all in various costume parts, or just sweatpants and their team jackets. The tables have bobby pins and lashes discarded, and giggles fill the air. In the middle of the room is the giant trophy (amongst the other smaller ones) and it’s the best feeling ever. 

You grab a booth with Bucky, Natasha, and Clint next to some of the other teachers and parents and make your way around to congratulate all the girls and see how they’re doing. When you get back to the booth Natasha excuses herself to the bathroom, and the minute she’s out of sight Clint squeals.

“I’m gonna do it,” he says and Bucky gives him a strange look while eating a few french fries. 

“Propose,” he says and shows the ring you had picked out with him.

“Oh, OH!” you say and light up. You’ve been waiting what feels like forever for this to happen.

“I’m gonna have her come outside with me in a little bit, and ask her,” he says grinning. He tucks the box back into his coat and you all pretend like nothing happened when Nat comes back out. 

“Hey, babe will you come with me to grab something from the car?” he says before she can scoot back into the booth.

“Uh- yeah I guess,” she says, stealing one of Bucky’s fries and grabbing Clint’s hand following him outside.

You see the two of them head outside and look away. This was their moment, and you didn’t want to take that from them.

“I didn’t get to say it earlier, but I’m so proud of you, love.” Bucky says.

“I never could have done it without you.”

“Okay, bullshit,” he says laughing. “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

#bucky barnes #bucky x reader #bucky x reader fluff #bucky barnes fluff #bucky x y/n

[a-dorin]

it takes two to tango

pairing: professor!obi-wan kenobi x female reader

word count: 1.5k

warnings: professor/student relationship, unprofessionalism, flirting, cursing, age gap, love triangle(maybe?), allusions to sex, mentions of oral

a/n: hellooooo! this is a little blurb or oneshot based off my ardor au, featuring professor!maul as well as other characters in college! for some context, this idea stemmed from this post linked here! i hope you guys enjoy! :))

read the first chapter of ardor here! 

“welcome to writing foundations. i am professor kenobi, but i go by an array of names. you can refer to me as obi-wan, obi, or ben. if you’d like, you can just keep the professor kenobi. it makes things a little easier and maintains the professionalism.”

letting out a quiet sigh, you fidgeted in your seat, chin resting in one hand, the other absentmindedly brushing over the keys of your laptop. your phone rested on your lap, vibrating every few minutes or so with a variety of notifications.

however, one notification in particular caught your attention, pulling your focus away from the professor.

it was a text from your boyfriend, flashing across the face of your apple watch.

i miss seeing your gorgeous face in class. :’( maybe i should’ve failed you so you were forced to retake the course. just kidding! or am i? ;)

upon reading the message the corner of your lips tugged into a shy grin, hands flying to your phone to respond.

“am i really that boring? or, is that text too important for you to focus?”

the inquiry was laced with scorn, your cheeks flushing as your eyes traveled upwards, focusing on the front of the classroom. professor kenobi arched a brow, his arms folded across his chest, a frown etched across his features.

“well?”

giggles erupted from several of the freshmen, the sound bouncing off the walls. reluctantly, you set your phone face down on the desk, “sorry.”

“i expect your undivided attention for the rest of the period,” he retorted, “i do not tolerate any disrespect directed towards my time in lecture. that does include texting, snapping, and sleeping in class. i will not hesitate to take your phone either.”

“i said i was sorry,” you gritted your teeth, your jaw clenching as the laughter continued, “you can proceed, professor kenobi.”

“i’m glad we’re both on the same page,” he rolled his eyes, plucking a marker off the tray, “now i’m going to write down my contacts on the whiteboard here. feel free to utilize my email at your leisure. i am aware of how some professors feel about giving out their numbers, but i have the utmost confidence that you all won’t abuse your texting privileges. well, maybe not all of you.”

fiddling with your laptop, you pulled up a new document for some notes. although you sure that professor kenobi wasn’t going to dive straight into lecture, who knew what his next move entailed.

already, you understood why maul was not fond of the professor. his aura was cold yet witty, and a bit pretentious. well, he was warm and kind, spitting out a few jokes here and there. that was until he caught you typing out a text. maybe that was just one of his pet peeves.

or maybe he was just an asshole, like maul said.

to your right, there were a couple of twi’leks scribbling away on the syllabus, copying what was written on the board. although you were a seat away, you could make out a few breathy giggles and hushed murmurs.

“maker he is so hot.”

at the comment, your eyes shifted towards the english professor. for the first day of class, he was donned in a tweed jacket, the color a darker, more chocolate brown, with beige patches on the elbows. the jacket was paired with a pair of khaki slacks, the glitter of a chain dangling from his pocket. it was more than likely a pocket watch.

he was average in stature, with a pale complexion. from your guess, he was a younger professor, somewhere in his late thirties, early forties. sure, although he was older, he had a handsome face. and the auburn beard only enhanced his features, complementing the icy blue hue of his eyes.

that was one of the first noticeable aspects of professor kenobi. his eyes were a brilliant color, bursting with emotion and shining with warmth as he welcomed you into the classroom.

yet, his first impression was nowhere near maul’s.

“i wish he would yell at me in class like he did with that girl.”

“be quiet or she’ll hear you!”

“now,” professor kenobi cleared his throat, smoothing out his coat, “i want to take the last twenty-five minutes to discuss your first assignment. don’t worry, it’ll only take me a few minutes to explain it then you’ll have the rest of the time to work. for your assignment, i want you to write about someone important in your life. i would like to hear what you find admirable about them, along with a few of their quirks. it can be anyone: a relative, friend, or significant other. the paper should be three paragraphs: an introduction of your chosen person, a body with an explanation of why you admire them, and then a conclusion. how you craft the conclusion is up to you.”

a hand shot up in the air, prompting a question. professor kenobi’s brow furrowed, “yes?”

the twi’lek to your right cleared her throat, “can it be a member of the faculty on campus?”

“it can be anyone of your choice. it can be a celebrity for all i care,” he chuckled, “the assignment is an assessment of your writing capabilities. it’s so that i can see where everyone is at.”

another student raised their hand, professor kenobi’s voice drowning in your ears. clicking on the title tab, you began to formulate a title for your paper, biting your lip as your mind buzzed.

who would you write your paper about? well, your mind was gravitating towards one individual. a crimson zabrak.

but would that jeopardize everything? would kenobi be able to read in between the lines? surely not. they were professors in vastly different departments. surely they rarely crossed paths.

“are you going to write about professor maul?” the twi’lek’s friend teased her, “if you do, you better hope that his girlfriend never finds it!”

“he has a girlfriend?” her companion snorted, “i was in his class this morning and he never mentioned any girlfriend.”

“there’s rumors going on all over campus. he has a girlfriend, but he won’t give anyone her name or even a picture. the only picture anyone knows about is the wallpaper on his macbook. i guess it’s just really private to him.”

the blush in your cheeks only deepened by their comments, your heart fluttering. was the entire campus really creating rumors about maul? and why did everyone care so much?

yet, the sound of his voice ringing across the class ceased your eavesdropping.

“now, i am sure this is the statement you all have been waiting for: class is dismissed. i will be sticking around for a few minutes if any of you have any questions.”

with no hesitations, students sprang to their feet, a flurry of chatter swirling all around you as they filed out of the classroom. plucking your laptop off the table, you placed it into the its case, shoving it in your book-bag. the twi’leks next to you flashed you a meek smile, shouldering past your seat.

“you know, you’re quite distracting.”

your lips pursed as your head swiveled towards the front of the class, “excuse me?”

“i’m not going to repeat myself,” professor kenobi shuffled some papers together, filing them into his satchel, “by the way, you need to watch your tone. i don’t like brats in my classoom.”

your breath hitched in your throat, “w-what? i’m not a brat.”

“yes you are,” kenobi fired back, “blatantly disrespecting your professor like that? i’m afraid that’s bratty behavior, love, and i don’t like it.”

“well i’m afraid it’s not going to happen again.”

you nearly couldn’t process what was happening. although he was putting up a tough exterior, the words stern, his tone said otherwise. it was light, laced with a tease. 

was he flirting with you?

“good,” he nodded, “because i have a tendency to punish bratty students.”

“i--” your throat tightened, “oh my--”

“by the way,” he crossed over to the table where you were situated, a smirk plastered across his features, “you have gorgeous eyes, (y/n). i never noticed until now, but your sweater complements them. now, you should head out. you have other classes, don’t you? i look forward to seeing you in lecture tomorrow. oh, and you better watch that pretty little mouth of yours.”

within seconds, he was out the door, leaving you stunned in your chair. 

the confrontation had your cheeks burning, your mouth dry. 

not only did you happen to capture the attention of one professor on the first day of class, but you managed to do it twice. 

yet, what professor kenobi didn’t know was that there was a certain zabrak in his office, awaiting your arrival in a matter of minutes. 

and what professor kenobi didn’t seem to grasp was one singular aspect about a relationship. 

it always takes two to tango. 

at the moment, he was the only one expressing interest. 

tomorrow though, who knew what he would do or say. 

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

tagged: @shannon-odonovan @maulieber @snips-n-skyguy0501 @calamity-queen @anakinswhore @justalittlecloud @pascalz @hounding-around @sasurah @laorme34 @littlevodika

#ardor: a professor maul au #professor!maul #professor!kenobi #ardor #star wars au #obi wan #obi wan kenobi

[ecoamerica]

Watch the American Climate Leadership Awards 2024 now: https://youtu.be/bWiW4Rp8vF0?feature=shared

The American Climate Leadership Awards 2024 broadcast recording is now available on ecoAmerica's YouTube channel for viewers to be inspired by active climate leaders. Watch to find out which finalist received the $50,000 grand prize! Hosted by Vanessa Hauc and featuring Bill McKibben and Katharine Hayhoe!

#ACLA24 #ACLA24Leaders #youtube #youtube video #climate leaders #climate solutions #climate action #climate and environment #climate #climate change #climate and health #climate blog #climate justice #climate news #weather and climate #environmental news #environment #environmental awareness #environment and health #environmental #environmental issues #environmental justice #environment protection #environmental health #Youtube

[leafs-lover]

Because Two People Got Drunk: 11

Series Masterlist

A/N: Never be with someone like Mike, find someone who has respect for you and everyone they meet!

Summary: You bring Oliver to some team functions and meet some of the wags and players. You test out the dating pool for the first time since getting pregnant.

Warnings: Angst, swearing

Word Count: 4100

Chapter 11

January 26, 2022

Fred returns from a morning skate, with a game later that night. He has a small bag in his hand that he sets on the coffee table before sitting beside you on the couch as Oliver is lying on his play mat.

“Hey can I talk to you for a sec?” he asks.

“Yeah”

“So I was wondering if you wanted to come with Oliver to the game tonight.”

You stare at him, not completely unreasonable. Most wags brought their kids to games or at least warm ups. Even though you weren’t a wag you were the only person who could bring Ollie, as you hadn’t even discussed if there was a need for a part time nanny. What else would you be doing on this Wednesday night?

“If you think he is too young or are uncomfortable with it, it’s not -"

“Yeah let’s do it. He’s more active and alert I think he’ll love to go.”

Fred smiles “good cause I got him this." He leans forward to grab the bag, he reaches in the bag to pull out a very tiny Penguin’s home jersey, it has his number but instead of his last name it says daddy . “His last one was getting a little tight” he says as you smile.

“You knew I was going to say yes this whole time.”

“I feel like I know you pretty well, and it’s for 3-6 months. I figured at some point in the next three months you would bring him so he can see his old man play” he says picking up Oliver who reaches for his dads face smiling.

You chuckle lightly. Fred kisses Oliver’s head “I’ll get a ride to and from the game so you can take my car with the car seat and leave early if needed. I’m going to go nap” he says handing you Oliver.

Later that night you pull up to the underground parking for family and players. You pull the car seat out and his diaper bag as you drop your purse “damn little lands” you mumble.

“Oh, let me help you" you hear as someone reaches down and grabs your purse for you “I’m Kathy, Sidney’s girlfriend. You must be (Y/N) I heard you would be coming tonight.” She says taking the diaper bag from your shoulder.

“Thanks, I didn’t think I needed a stroller for the small walk into the building,” you say smiling “probably could have helped.” You make small talk as she leads you to the WAG lounge where you are introduced to more beautiful women.

“Oh he has Fred’s eyes” one says “and his hair.” You pull him from the car seat and hand him off to Christina. You make casual conversation with them “want to go down for the warm up?” Kathy asks.

You nod scooping up Oliver, laughing as the women groan and grumble “don’t worry I’ll be back ladies” you say taking his little hand to wave goodbye.

“They can be a lot sometimes” Kathy starts “but they are great girls. We’re like a family, a bunch of sisters” you nod as you approach the glass. Fred see’s you and skates to the glass taping in front of Oliver’s face, Oliver stares at him.

You shift Oliver, instead of lying in your arms he is upright looking through the glass at Fred. Fred continues tapping on the glass smiling at his son.

“Oh that’s so cute” Kathy says.

“Yeah he is the best dad. Oliver’s really lucky” you start staring at your son “but so am I. This has been a crazy few months and although it’s not an ideal situation I wouldn’t want it with anyone else.” Fred skates away as the warmup is done up as you and Kathy find your seats.

“How are you doing with all this?” she gestures around the rink.

“For the most part he has kept it all pretty private. I mean even when he was born the team labelled it a ‘personal situation’ to the press, they didn’t say the birth of his son. I honestly don’t know if anyone outside last year’s leafs and some of this year pens know about him. Fred hasn’t posted anything on social media but he doesn’t put a whole lot on there.”

“How are you doing with the living situation, I know you are staying at Fred’s.”

“Yeah it’s been good; there have been these moments of like tension sometimes. Or at least I think there have been, maybe I’m imagining it, I don’t know.”

“Tension? Like fights?”

“No, more like sexual tension” You start as Kathy nods. “But I’m not sure. I think it will be better once I find a place of my own.”

“Oh Fred didn’t mention you were leaving.”

“Yeah I haven’t brought it up to him, I mentioned it back when I was pregnant but we decided to play it out.  I think it will be better if I leave, then we can date if we want too.”

“Do you want to date?”

“I don’t know, I was at a coffee shop the other day and started talking to someone while in line and gave him my number.” Kathy keeps staring at you “He has messaged me a bit, wants to meet up but I don’t know if I’m ready yet.”

Just as she is about to respond Oliver starts to cry “it’s probably the noise cancelling headphones, he is not a fan of them” you explain. Kathy nods as you head to the suite. You feed Oliver and change him into his penguin pyjamas as you set him in the car seat.

“Oh don’t leave” Christina cries.

“I can stick around for a bit, it’s just easier to have him in there in case he falls asleep later on.”

“Nonsense” she says grabbing him and scooping him up. “He will be perfectly fine right here” and he watched the remainder of the game being passed around between the women. When the final buzzer goes the Penguins have beat the senators 3-0, you didn’t mean to stay the whole time but Oliver didn’t fuss much and you were distracted talking to the girls.

Kathy leads you down to the area where you can wait for Fred after the game. Slowly players begin to trickle out, when Sidney comes out wrapping his arms around Kathy giving her a light kiss.

He turns to you “You must be (Y/N) and this guy must be Oliver” he says bending down to look at Oliver, who is asleep in his car seat on the floor.

“Yeah it’s nice to meet you.”

“Fred should be out soon, the media always has questions for the goalie after a shutout. Must have been his good luck charms he brought tonight” he gives you a soft smile. “Yeah” you chuckle in response.

“Well we better get going. Bye (Y/N). Nice meeting you” Sid says. “Yeah you too.”

Fred slowly strolls out a few minutes later looking down at his phone. He has on a black three piece game day suit, with his tie loosely hung around his neck.  The top two buttons of his shirt are undone providing you a glance at his chest, his hair was thrown to one side partially wet from the shower, seeing him like this makes you weak in the knees. He almost walks by until you call his name.

“Hey” he pulls you in for a hug. You smell his cologne mixed with his body wash, being pressed up against him breathing him causes your throat to catch. “I’m surprised you guys are still here.”

“Yeah the girls didn’t want to let go of him all night, I think they held onto him so he couldn’t leave.” He chuckles into your hair.

“Whatever the reason I’m glad you’re here” he says releasing you and picking up the car seat.

January 27, 2022

You wake up with Oliver and feed him leaving him on his play mat. As you are brewing coffee you hear Fred’s feet on the hardwood in the living room. He walks over to Ollie scooping him up from his swing “morning” he says.

“Morning. Coffee’s on, I’m going to go shower” you state heading down the hall. After your shower you return and hear Fred talking in hushed tones in the kitchen. “I don’t understand how this happened, I should have been consulted first.” You turn the corner from the hall to the kitchen and see he is on the phone “I have to go” he spits out before hanging up.

“Everything okay?” you question as you go to make a coffee.

“I have to tell you something” he starts as you sit at the island, Fred sits beside you holding Ollie in his lap. “So last night when you came to the game the Pen’s social media took some footage of you two.”

“Okay…” you respond waiting for him to continue.

“When you brought him to the glass they took a video of you holding him and put it on their story. They also took a picture where you can see the 3 of us. In both of these you can see his jersey that says Daddy on the back. The picture was posted that on their actual Instagram page after the game, with some caption about being daddy’s good luck charm.”

You casually take a sip of your coffee “and you are upset about this?” you question.

“Well I mean yeah. I have kept him hidden from my life, and I feel like I should have posted a picture of him before the team” you nod. “But you aren’t upset?” He asks kind of confused.

“I mean his dad is a professional athlete so I would be naïve to think he wouldn’t be photographed from time to time. But I don’t care if you keep him 100% hidden from that part of your life. It’s your choice, because it’s your career that will bring him into the light. If you want to post pictures you can, he is your son I won’t be upset about it. I’m not upset that his picture is posted but I get why it’s upsetting the team doing it before you.”

“You don’t care if I post pictures of him?”

“No. I post pictures of him all the time.” “Yeah but you are set to private.” “Would it bother you if I was set to public and posted pictures of him.”

“Well no, not at all.”

“Well that’s how I feel. He is your son so if you want to post pictures or videos post them, if you don’t want to then don’t. It’s your choice.”

“Are you upset about your face being shown in the picture?” he asks.

You shrug before answering “well they didn’t tag me in it. And nobody knows who I am, so I doubt people will be able to figure out who I am or find my page. And even if they do I’m private, I don’t accept people I don’t know so it’s not a big deal to me.”

“Oh I was mostly upset because I thought you would be. But since you’re not I guess I can call the team back before someone gets fired over it.”

“Good idea” you laugh. Fred hands you Ollie and stands up, just as he is leaving the room he turns around. “We have a family event this Sunday with the team.” He starts before pausing briefly “You guys want to come?”

“Of course” you smile, bouncing Oliver on your leg “it will be fun” you continue leaning in to kiss his cheek as he laughs. Fred stops and comes over to him “is that the first time he’s laughed?” he exclaims.

“Yeah it is! Quick get your phone!”

Fred pulls his phone out to videotape him “do it again” he says. You lean in kissing his cheek as you gently tickle his side. Oliver’s cute baby laughter fills the room as you continue doing it. Oliver stops and Fred turns the camera off kissing the top of Oliver’s head as he leans in to hug you. He kisses your hair “I can’t believe he did that” Fred whispers. He holds you for maybe a little too long before you chime in “Do you think you can watch Oliver tonight?” you question.

He pulls away “yeah of course. You going somewhere or just need a night off?”

“Um yeah… I was invited out to dinner” you answer shifting your eyes to Oliver “with Mike.”

You bounce Oliver a few times before you hear “like a date?”

You look up and see the disappointment in his eyes “I think so.”

“Oh. Well yeah Ollie and I will have a great time” he says scooping him from your arms “won’t we buddy.”

Later that day you are finishing getting ready for you date, Mike said he would pick you up at 7. It’s about 6:30 now. You straightened your hair and done your makeup as you stand looking into your closet. You settle on a simple black dress, has 3/4 sleeves with a high neck and ends just above your knees. You pair it with some high black boots. You walk out into the living room and see Fred carrying Oliver to the couch with a bottle in his hand. He tries to be subtly but you see his eyes lingering longer than they should, “you look nice” he says.

“Thanks” you say lightly.

Mike shows up late, at 7:20 and doesn’t even acknowledge that he is late, Fred went down to his room a little while ago, likely to avoid any awkward situations. He hands you a bouquet of roses “thanks” you say taking them from him “let me just put them in some water.” You walk to the kitchen, leaving Mike at the door to find a vase. You quickly place them in the corner of the kitchen before leaving with Mike.

The drive is painfully slow, the man beside you doesn’t seem like the man you met or have been texting with. He has told you multiple stories about “hanging with the guys” and some of the stuff that they do. He originally seemed sweet but at now he is coming across as a dick.

“Can you believe she brought us that?” he scoffs. “Like who wants the ’77, that wine is just trash.” You stare at him, unsure on how to respond. It seemed like a simple mistake to you, not something to berate the waitress over.

“What do you do for work?” he finally asks after an hour of talking about himself.

You shift slightly in your seat “I um work for an environmental consulting firm back in Toronto.”

“Oh why are you in Pittsburgh then?”

You take a deep breath “I am here on maternity leave, my sons father lives here so I came here.”

“Oh that’s awesome I love kids” he says, but somehow you don’t believe him. “So you heading back there after maternity leave or are you moving here for good?”

“Yeah I plan on leaving after my leave is over. I don’t have visas or a job to work down here” you say as you see a devilish grin come across his face. “So you’re not looking for something too serious then eh?” You aren’t sure how to process his question, but it is becoming very apparent to you what he is expecting from this.

As dinner wraps up you continue to become annoyed by Mike, he is continuously rude to the staff at the restaurant.

“Any dessert tonight?” your server asks.

Mike looks to you “I’m actually pretty full” you say lightly, trying to get out of this date as soon as possible. “Just the cheque please” Mike says to her.

After paying Mike heads to the bathroom. You put your coat on and look at the bill and realize he provided an extremely low tip. “What a dick” you mutter as you pull two twenties from your wallet and quickly slide them in the envelope.

“You ready?” you hear from behind you as you pull your hair out from inside your coat. You turn to walk in front of him, putting your hands in your pocket.

During the drive home he reaches over and rests his right hand on your thigh and begins sliding it up your leg. You grab his hand and push it off your leg toward the steering wheel. About 10 minutes in to the date you knew you weren’t going to see him again, and you wish you had of walked out then. He pulls up and parks in front of your building, you undo your seatbelt as you reach for your bag.

“Thanks for dinner” you say reaching for the door. You feel him reach across and turn your face to look at him. He leans in for a kiss as his hand firmly grips your leg. He begins sliding up, lifting the hem of your dress. You turn away from him “I feel like you got the wrong impression” you say removing his hand from your leg “I’m not interested in seeing you again.”

“You don’t need to see me again, just keep seeing me a little bit longer tonight” he moves you hair behind your ear “it will be fun.” His hand is back on your leg when you forcefully push him off you and quickly reach for the door practically running out the door.

You run to the elevator, your heart pacing as you step in trying to calm yourself. You don’t stop running until you are inside your apartment with the door locked behind you. You walk into the apartment the lights are off, but you can see the TV glow coming from Fred’s door indicating he is still awake. You kick your shoes and coat off as you walk to the kitchen to get a drink. You notice Fred moved the flowers to the middle of the island to be on display. Normally something so sweet would make you smile, but seeing them makes you angry.

Seeing them just reminds you of how big of a douche Mike was, and how terrible tonight was. You reach for the flowers to throw them in the trash but instead knock it the vase over, shattering on the floor.

You bend down picking up some of the larger pieces by hand. You are so agitated and stressed by the night’s events tears begin to build in your eyes. Through your blurry eyes you feel a piece of glass cut your palm as you mumble “fuck.”

“You okay?” you hear Fred question. “Yeah” you whisper. Fred see’s you gripping your hand, with blood dripping down.

“You’re bleeding, you’re not okay” he says leading you to the sink. He helps rinse your hand, he runs his thumb over the cut “I don’t think there is any glass in there. Stay here I’ll get some bandages.”

He comes back into the room with a first aid kit, and places some bandages on your palm.

“That should do it” he says.

“Thanks” you mutter.

Fred walks away to grab the broom and begins to sweep up the smaller pieces as you start cleaning up the water. The mess is cleaned but you are still on your knees with paper towel. You don’t want to stand up and let Fred see you cry so you are trying to stifle your tears.

Fred bends down beside you “It’s just a vase and some flowers, it’s not a big deal” he says tilting your chin up and wiping your tears. “I don’t care about the stupid flowers, I was trying to throw them out.”

“Why?” he questions.

“Date was that good” you mumble.

Fred pulls you in for a hug “want to talk about it?” he asks.

“No I want to put on pyjamas and forget tonight happened” you say before abruptly walking away to your room.

January 30, 2020

You and Fred haven’t discussed your date or that night since it happened. Today is the day of the family skate, you arrive dressed in jeans with a light sweater and bomber jacket, with a Pens toque Fred made you wear. Fred leads you to a dressing room handing you some skates “oh if I knew we were skating I could have brought my own. I played growing up a bit.”

“Oh I didn’t know, can’t wait to be dazzled by your skating abilities” he teases.

“I stopped playing the year my parents died. I started up again in college, but I’m not the best.”

“So I should carry Ollie.”

“Yes, 100%” you respond. After strapping his skates on he puts on the baby carrier sliding Oliver into the front of it. He looked so small pressed up against Fred’s chest in his snowsuit. “Oh he is so cute” you hear a wife say.

Fred grabs your hand and leads you to the ice “you ready to see mama’s skating abilities?” he questions touching Oliver’s cheek. You step on and begin skating, turning around to go backward too “Impressive” he says catching up to you. You do a few more laps before you begin to lose your balance when Fred sticks his hand under your elbow to support you. You skate a few more times before heading to get some water where you make casual conversation with Sid, Evgeni and Anna. “What are they talking about?” Evgeni questions. You all look to centre ice seeing Kathy talking to Freddie, in what appears to be an intense conversation. “Who knows” you shrug.

“That video Fred posted was adorable” Anna says.

“What video?” “The one with you and Oliver and he is laughing. It’s just the cutest. Baby laughs are the best.” You smile “yeah.” You aren’t surprised that Fred posted something of Oliver but you are surprised he posted with you in it.

Shortly after you all get off the ice and head to the team dinner. Fred places Oliver’s car seat on the floor and sits at the end of the bench so he can keep an eye on him. You sit beside him as Kathy and Sidney sit across from you. The four of you sit there drinking as the night wears on, your wine glass almost never emptying as Kathy keeps refilling it.

“So we’re going to watch Oliver for a night in the near future” Kathy says to Sidney.

“Oh really?” he questions

“Yeah give them a night off and get us some practice for when we have one” she quips and Sid chuckles lightly. You give Fred a light glance and he shrugs, but you know he knows what she is talking about. He leaves to change and feed Oliver, returning beside you but this time sitting closer to you. He puts his left hand on the bench behind you, gently grazing your ass as your breath gets caught in your throat. You sit there as you finally check your watch realizing its 9:30.

“Whoa, we should get going eh Fred” you say showing him the time.

“Yeah we better get the little guy to bed.”

 Dress for you date:

Next Chapter 

#Frederik Andersen #Freddie Andersen #Frederik Andersen fic #Freddie Andersen fic #frederik andersen smut #Freddie Andersen smut #NHL Smut #NHL Fic #fred andersen #fredzilla #freddie andersen x reader #frederik andersen x reader #fred andersen smut #fred andersen x reader #Fred Andersen Fic #because two people got drunk #my writing

[lyssismagical]

When the sky is losing light, I swear my head fills up with memories

Febuwhump Days 25-28 - Presumed Dead, Freeze to Death, Glass, Post-Tragedy

Read on AO3

{TW: Minor Character Death, Graphic Depictions of Violence}

*

His breaths puff out of him, visible in the frigid air.

Kidnapped again.

He’d only been kidnapped a handful of times before, but being both Tony’s Intern and Spider-Man had some pretty obvious downsides. It always ended fine, a grand rescue mission ending with Tony coddling Peter in Medical.

It never took longer than mere hours for him to be found, always covered in trackable devices or taken by people who underestimate Tony’s genius.

But this was different already, Peter could tell.

The man speaking to him from the other side of the glass-walled enclosure Peter’s in, isn’t interested in using Peter for ransom like most others are. He doesn’t even seem interested in hurting Peter, doesn’t step inside the enclosure at all.

And worse, Peter recognized the man pacing. He was one of the police officers constantly chasing after Spider-Man, believing he was failing the city, all of the bullshit that the Daily Bugle puts out. He’d tried to arrest Peter a few times before and had even started shooting at Peter as he swung through Queens.

No matter how much good Peter did, police officers like him would always believe he was a menace.

“Did you know,” the man starts, dress shoes clicking against the ground as he paces. “that over thirty percent of the criminals you web up end up free to roam the streets within days of arrest? Did you know that we still have to present the criminals to the judge and jury nearly evidence-less, and they’re proclaimed innocent until proven guilty? Did you know that the majority of the criminals set free after you play pretend police with them, end up doing more crime and hurting more people?”

Peter does know that. He watches the news as often as he can, he’s got access to files and information through Tony and FRIDAY even if he’s not technically supposed to see it.

He knows it and he hates it. He keeps tabs on all the criminals and he gives them the benefit of the doubt, hoping the close run-in with the cops will get them to turn good, but it rarely works out that way.

Peter keeps his mouth shut, testing the chains that hold him to one of the four glass walls, metal freezing cold on his wrists, but they’re too strong.

“There’s an obvious solution here, spider,” the man says condescendingly. He taps at one of the two guns that sit against his hips. “Bullet right in the forehead. Get the job done for real.”

Frowning, the young hero shakes his head. “That’s not right-”

“If you don’t, you’re letting these criminals walk free.” The man, shakes his head, leaning up against the glass. The name tag on his shirt reads David Walker.

“That doesn’t mean I can start killing people just because they did something wrong.”

David scoffs, rolling his eyes. “Let’s start with a man you webbed up three months ago, alright? His name was Scott Paterson. Scott’s a drug dealer, he’s got a few counts of assault under his belt, even had a charge of arson. You caught him three months ago in a drug deal gone wrong. Scott was webbed up and we collected him. He was out on the streets again within two days.”

Peter doesn’t remember Scott. He believes David, but it’s hard to remember specific names or crimes that he stops on the daily.

“Two weeks ago, we found Scott in his apartment,” David continues. “He had been in the process of moving out of state to avoid being caught because he’d killed two guys who were witnesses to Scott’s crimes.”

Guilt rushes through Peter, settling amongst all the other buckets of guilt he’s stored deep within his conscience. He knows this kind of thing happens, he does, but it doesn’t make it any easier.

David leans against the glass, hands splayed out. “Those two deaths are on your hands, Spider. Two women are now widows, three children are fatherless, thanks to you.”

“I didn’t want-”

“It doesn’t matter what you want, Spider,” David tsks. “If you had killed Scott instead of leaving him for us to deal with, those families wouldn’t have lost those men, and Scott would’ve gotten what he had coming. Isn’t that the better outcome? Just think of how many deaths are on your hands if over thirty percent of the criminals you webbed up are still commiting crimes.”

Peter flinches, not wanting to think about blood on his hands, reminding him of Ben and all the citizens he couldn’t save no matter how hard he tried.

But David won’t stop now. “Wouldn’t it be better if the precious hero stopped failing? Wouldn’t it be better for you to rid the streets of all criminals, not just the ones that us cops can put behind bars for a couple of years? Wouldn’t it be better if you protected your civilians and your city, Spider-Man?”

“I can’t just kill every person who’s done something wrong! I can’t just start pulling the trigger every time somebody steps out of line! Wouldn’t that make me just as bad as them?”

“You’re already a menace, Spider-Man, do you really want to be a failure too? If you don’t kill them, they’ll just hurt more people and then it’s on you.”

Tears are welling in Peter’s eyes against his will because this isn’t right. Tony’s always said that Peter’s morals rival those of Captain America. That Peter was always good, simply put. And Peter believed it. He was a hero, after all.

David’s face softens a fraction, a frown tugging at his mouth. “Alright, let’s make this easier for you, okay?”

He turns down the hallway, they seem to be in some cliché abandoned warehouse, only the glass blocking Peter away from David, but Peter doesn’t have to try to know the glass isn’t normal glass, and the handcuffs holding him down aren’t regular handcuffs.

Peter takes the second of solitude to check himself over. He’s wearing the t-shirt and jeans he had on when he was walking to school, he guesses only a few hours earlier. His phone, watch, and backpack all missing. Even his shoes were gone. He doesn’t feel hurt at all, other than the headache from being knocked out.

David’s a police officer. There’s no way of knowing how many others are working with him, if he could’ve wiped any security tapes, if he could’ve taken them somewhere non-disclosed where even Tony couldn’t find them.

The cuffs must be vibranium, refusing to break no matter how hard Peter tugs at them. It’s January too. The abandoned warehouse isn’t about to have heating, so the frigid air makes sense. Peter shivers just thinking about the cold seeping into him.

“Alright, Spider.” David’s voice returns. He emerges back into Peter’s view, but this time, he’s dragging a body along with him.

David shoves the door to the glass enclosure open and tosses the body to the floor by Peter’s feet.

“Meet Scott Paterson, Spider-Man,” David says, a grin stretching across his face.

Scott’s face is enough to trigger the memory of him. There was shouting behind a bar when Peter was on his way home, so Peter went and webbed both Scott and another guy up. He left them with the drugs as evidence along with the knife Scott had pulled out.

His face is a little beaten up, blood dripping from his split lip onto the ground but his eyes are wild with confusion and fear, hands shaking in the plain handcuffs holding his wrists behind his back.

“We’re going to play a little game, alright?” David pulls one of the guns out of his pocket along with a roll of duct tape.

Peter’s shivering steadily and his head is pounding, vibranium holding his wrists in front of him, so there’s not much he can do as David tapes the gun to Peter’s hand, covering his hands and fingers in the silvery tape, index finger on the trigger.

“You’ve got one bullet in there,” David explains, taking a step back to admire his handiwork.

He pulls Scott to his knees, draws the second gun and holds the barrel to Scott’s temple.

“Wait a second-” Scott gasps, biceps straining as he tries to get away, out of the handcuffs, out of the grip on his collar.

“Now, here’s the game, Spider.” The click of the safety. “Put your bullet in his forehead.”

Peter tugs at his restraints harder, shaking his head as tears rush into his eyes. “I can’t- I can’t just kill him!”

“The blood is already on your hands, Spider. If you don’t kill him, I will, and it’ll be your fault. Or you kill him.”

Scott’s wild eyes lock onto Peter’s. “Please, man, I’m not- I didn’t want to hurt anyone. I got caught up with this awful dude who was threatening my daughter, and I did what he told me to do to keep her safe. You gotta- Please, man, I can’t die. Don’t- Don’t let me die.”

Peter’s heart clenches, hands shaking as he lifts the gun, a tear already tracing its way down his frozen cheeks. He turns the gun towards David.

“Do it, coward,” David says, lifting his eyebrows. “You’re just a coward, Spider. If you kill me, my death will be on you, but you’d save Scott. If you don’t, I’ll kill Scott and it’ll be your fault. Either way, somebody dies and the blame is put on you.”

Shaking his head again, Peter can’t convince himself to speak around the lump in his throat, worried that if he opened his mouth, a sob would escape.

David shoves the gun harder against Scott’s temple, glaring at Peter. “Your choice, kid. Me or him.”

“Please, man, you’ve gotta believe me,” Scott pleads, tears streaking down his flushed cheeks. “I know I did bad things, but I’m not a bad guy. My daughter’s dance recital is tomorrow and I- I promised I’d go for her. Please.”

Peter’s hands are trembling as he points the gun up at David, chains pulling taut. “You don’t have to do this. You could put down the gun and we could all walk out of here.”

But there’s no sympathy in David’s face, no care, just the same nonchalance. “You’ve got three seconds or I’m killing Scott.”

Three.

There’s no way out. There’s no way to change the outcomes of this. Somebody’s going to die. Either Peter kills somebody, or Peter lets somebody kill someone. Either way, it’s on Peter. Either way, Peter will leave here a murderer. No better than David or Scott. No better than the people he puts in prison every day. No better than the man who killed Ben that night all those years ago, the one that Peter spent months obsessively tracking. No better than the worst of the worst.

Two.

Either way, Peter’s a killer.

One.

* Peter startles awake when he feels hands on his shoulders, shaking him hard. He gasps, cold and sweating and crying, not shivering because he’s long since stopped shivering in this stupid fucking glass prison, but trembling from the anxiety that still thrums through his veins, the adrenaline crashing.

“Oh fuck, kid, I thought- You weren’t moving and I- I thought-”

“Tony?” His voice breaks on a sob, tears frozen against his cheeks, and the gun is still taped to his hand, still warm against his palm. “Get it off, get it- get it off, please, I can’t-”

Tony’s quick to grab a knife handed to him from somewhere behind Peter, probably Natasha, and cutting the weapon away from Peter’s palm.

There’s blood and glass everywhere. Peter peeks over Tony’s shoulder, barely able to contain the hoarse sob that escapes him when he sees the unconscious figures.

“Are they-”

“One of them was,” Tony responds shortly. “The other one passed out from shock, he’ll be fine.”

But that’s not better.

Peter pulled the trigger.

He was the one that put a bullet in another man’s head.

He was the one who took the life from a human being.

Peter hides his face against Tony’s shoulder, stomach twisting at the flashes of blood and shattering glass and feeling the recoiling gun.

His head gets stuck in a loop of percentages, of statistics. Thirty percent of criminals. He wonders how many police are like David, how many of them would push Peter to murder. He wonders what the statistics are for people he’s saved versus those the police have saved. If Peter’s really making a difference of not. He wonders, in another universe where he never became Spider-Man, if Queens would be better off.

It doesn’t matter though, alternate universes and statistics, because Peter killed a man. Because there’s a dead body only feet away from him and the gun is only inches away from his fingertips, glass shards littering the floor and digging into his knees and shins.

“C’mon, let’s get you to the car and back to Bruce, okay?” Tony says, voice soft and low. His hands are much too careful against Peter’s shoulders and thumbs running over his cheekbones and fingertips brushing back his hair.

Peter doesn’t answer, doesn’t think he could even if he wanted to, throat clogged up with grief and crushing guilt.

He doesn’t deserve any of it. He doesn’t deserve Tony and his soft words and softer touches, doesn’t deserve the luxury of seeing a doctor and getting patched up, doesn’t deserve safety and warmth. He deserves to be behind bars for this. He killed a man.

Tony leads him up to his feet, careful to position himself between Peter and David’s body, it doesn’t matter because the image is already scarred into Peter’s memory.

The world is too bright, sun bouncing off the snow and into Peter’s eyes before Tony slips a pair of sunglasses on him. The world goes dim and dark, and Peter lets Tony lead him forward and maneuver his pliant limbs into the car.

He hears Happy say something to him, but he sounds distant. Underwater.

Tony’s fingertips are on his face, pushing his curls back and smoothing his thumbs over Peter’s temples. “Sleep, kid. It’ll be okay.”

Peter doesn’t believe it’ll be okay, doesn’t know how Tony could, but he rests his head against the window anyways and spends the drive trying his best not to think about the glass against his head and in his skin.

Peter doesn’t answer many of Bruce’s questions, but thankfully, the doctor is kind and limits his questions to yes or no answers where he can.

Tony sits at his side while Bruce takes the glass out of him and stitches up the deeper wounds, putting butterfly bandages over the rest.

And then Peter’s led back up to the penthouse where May arrives, bundling him up in a tight hug before getting a sandwich in front of him.

He eats even though his food tastes like nothing and it’s hard to swallow around the lump in his throat that doesn’t seem to leave. He can’t get the image of Scott’s crying face and David’s body dropping to the floor, gun going off and hitting one of the glass walls, effectively shattering it.

“Hey, kiddo,” Tony murmurs sitting down across from Peter and pushing a cup of water towards him.

Peter doesn’t know if Tony did it intentionally, but the cup is a colorful plastic one, not glass.

“Thanks,” Peter says, coughing to cover up the effort it takes to stop himself from bursting into tears again.

“I know this is a bad time and I shouldn’t be asking you anything this soon, but the man’s at the hospital with Nat and Steve, and they’re wondering what they should do with him,” Tony says. “He says it’s your decision whether or not you want him in prison.”

Scott’s giving Peter the decision. Another decision. Maybe that means Peter did a good job the first time Scott’s life was put in his hands.

Either way, he doesn’t want to make the decision. He doesn’t know if he’s psychologically capable of making another big decision like this one.

“Send him home,” Peter says, voice robotic and not quite his own. “Wasn’t his fault.”

Tony lifts an eyebrow. He’s always been overly-curious. Someone incapable of holding in the questions he wants answers to, so it’s not surprising when he says, “It wasn’t his fault that there’s a dead police officer on our hands now?”

It’s not his fault. He probably assumed the gun on the ground meant that Scott shot David, not Peter who shot him. He probably saw the gun taped to Peter’s hand and automatically assumed it couldn’t have been him.

“No,” Peter says shortly, taking a sip of the water and trying his best not to draw attention to his violently trembling hands. Water sloshes over the edge of his cup onto the table. “Scott’s not a bad guy.”

He doesn’t say that he doesn’t think David was the bad guy either. He doesn’t say that he thinks Peter’s the bad guy.

“Okay, I’ll let them know,” Tony says, looking at Peter like he’s going to ask another hundred questions to get to the bottom of this.

“I’m going to my room.” Peter stands up abruptly, arm jerking like it expects to be held down by the chains from earlier. He almost forgets to put down his cup and when he does, he forgets to reign in his strength and the cup breaks, spilling water over the table.

Instead of dealing with any of his obviously unusual actions, he just nods at the mess he’s made like he did it on purpose and walks to his bedroom.

He doesn’t want to deal with any of it. His skin is crawling and his lungs feel like they’ve collapsed. And he knows what that feels like.

He wishes he could talk to Ben.

Ben would know what to do, what to say. He always did. May’s good and Peter loves her, he does, but she always used to let Ben deal with the emotional side of things. After Mary and Richard died, Ben would be the one to comfort him after nightmares and he was the one who would drag out old photo albums and hold Peter while he cried. May was the one to put the funeral together and she did his laundry and cooked them food and offered any support she could.

But Ben’s not there anymore. He isn’t there to be the elaborate story-teller he used to be, making up voices and gesticulating wildly until he got Peter to fall into a giggle fit. He isn’t there to tuck Peter into a warm blanket, make Ben’s Special Hot Chocolate, and do jigsaw puzzles with him in the middle of the night. Ben’s not there.

“Yorke Construction, how can I help you?”

Peter jerks, fingers clutching the phone against his ear. He hadn’t realized he’d called.

“Um, sorry- I shouldn’t have-”

The lady’s voice softens. “Are you okay?”

It’s not the same person who used to pick up the phones at Ben’s work when he did work there.

“I shouldn’t have called, I just-”

“Are you okay?” she repeats gently. “Are you trying to reach someone?”

Peter resolve crumples and he tries to hide the obvious tears in his voice. “My uncle used to work there, he doesn’t anymore. I shouldn’t have called, I’m sorry, it was an accident.”

“No worries at all.”

Peter hangs up before he can say anything else, and he lets his phone fall to his bed, curling up in his blankets as he cries.

* Ben used to want to be a police officer, Peter remembers. He got accepted into the academy, but he never ended up going. He didn’t have the money and he hated how much Mary and May worried about him, even if he hadn’t become a police officer yet. Instead, he went into construction.

He always talked about one day building May a house in the countryside. He liked building things, was super smart. Peter thinks that’s where he got his desire to build.

He wonders if things would be different if Ben were a police officer like David was. Ben would’ve been hundreds of times better than David.

There’s a knock on the door.

“Hey, kiddo,” Tony murmurs, walking in. He winces, probably noticing the tearstains or maybe the blood he’s drawn from biting his lip. “How’re you holding up?”

He sits at the end of Peter’s bed, gently rubbing his shins where his wounds have all healed from the broken glass. Peter turns his eyes to the ceiling.

“It wasn’t Scott,” Peter says.

“I know.” Tony’s voice doesn’t hold any anger, any hurt, any betrayal. He’s been the one saying Peter’s the most morally sound person he’s ever met, he should be angry that Peter’s killed a man.

“It was me.”

Tony nods. “I know.”

Ben would’ve been angry. He was always better. The best. Peter imagines himself holding the gun at Ben, not a bystander like he was that night. He thinks of murder and blood and glass shattering. Of Ben’s body dropping the same way David’s did.

“I’m- I’m a murderer, Tony.”

“Scott said that you saved his life,” Tony offers. He shifts back on the bed to rest his back against the wall, propping Peter’s feet up in his lap.

Peter swallows thickly. “He wouldn’t have been there in the first place if it weren’t for me. If I hadn’t webbed him up three months ago, he wouldn’t have ended up on the police’s radar at all.”

“You wanna tell me what happened in there?”

From his tone, Tony’s not expecting a story. But Peter wants Tony to yell at him, to hate him for what he’s done. Peter thinks Tony will understand if he hears the statistics, if he hears how Peter failed again and again, how dozens of people are dead because of him, and how David’s blood is on his hands.

In his strange state of mind, confused and focused on all the wrong things, Peter forgets to leave out the details like he normally does. How he always does. He leaves in the gory details by accident because he can’t think straight, and he’s pretty sure some of the details he tells are of Ben’s death and not David’s, but he isn’t sure.

“You didn’t have a choice, Peter,” Tony says, voice somehow still staying soft and low, thumb still rubbing his ankle, expression still full of care. “He didn’t give you a choice.”

“I held a gun and I shot somebody, Mister Stark. How is that not my fault?”

Tony sighs, long and tired like he isn’t sure how much he wants to fight this fight. “Listen, kid, I know you have a guilt complex the size of America, so I don’t know how I can ever convince you that this wasn’t your fault, but nobody’s mad at you regardless.”

“I’m a killer!” Peter exclaims angrily, sitting up in bed and glaring at Tony through his tears. “How the fuck can you argue that I did anything right today?”

“Because I know you, kid, and I know you didn’t have a choice. And let’s say you did, okay? Let’s say, you had a choice and you chose to kill him. You know what? I still love you. Nothing could make me not love you, kid. Nothing could make me hate you.”

Peter presses the heels of his palms to his eyes. “But I’m a killer.”

“I’ve had people die because of me,” Tony says. “Lots of people that I tried to save and couldn’t. Lots of people that died because I made mistakes on the job. And I know you don’t believe I would’ve, but I nearly killed that fucker last year that hurt you. If it weren’t for Rhodey that night, I would’ve killed him.”

“You were protecting me.” Peter doesn’t know how to wrap his head around any of it. “That makes it different. You’re not a killer, Mister Stark.”

Tony shrugs, sending him a sad smile. “You were protecting Scott and yourself. Plus, you weren’t given a choice, bud. You had that gun taped to your hand. That’s not a choice.”

“That doesn’t make it okay. I still- I still killed him. I still shot the gun. I still watched-” Peter cuts himself off, brain stuck in a loop of David dropping to the floor and Ben’s hands coming up to cover the wound as he sunk to the ground and glass shattering.

“Maybe not,” Tony shrugs again. “Even if we were in that hypothetical that you killed somebody in cold blood. And I’ll repeat, hypothetical. I think you’ve saved enough people to make up for it. What the NYPD and the legal system do with the criminals, what the criminals do if they get back on the streets, that doesn’t fall on your shoulders.”

Peter sniffles, too tired to keep arguing it. His guilt has settled enough to think a little bit straighter, but he doesn’t know if he’ll ever be able to make it go entirely away.

“Plus,” Tony continues, patting his kid’s ankle. “You should know, Scott spent this morning at his daughter’s dance recital. Her name’s Anne, I learned, and she’s very happy her favourite superhero saved her dad.”

Later, Anne and Scott will send letters with their thanks for allowing them to stay together. For choosing both Scott’s survival and for not sending him to prison.

For now, Peter pulls his feet away from Tony to instead curl up against his side, tucking his face against his father-figure’s shoulder, hiding away his tears.

“You know,” Tony says eventually, arms tight around Peter. “When we found you, you were so cold, so pale… There was so much blood.”

“Hm?” Peter responds, too tired to try for a real conversation.

Tony sniffs. “I thought you were dead for a second. We got there and there was only one heat signature and it was Scott, and the blood made me think you were dead too. I thought- I thought I had lost you.”

Peter hums in response, nuzzling closer to Tony.

“If David wasn’t already dead, I would’ve killed him.”

It’s a strange thing to bring comfort to Peter, but he trusts Tony, he believes Tony. And he lets Tony burden some of the guilt that’s stored in him. He lets go of some of it, believing that Tony will always catch him when he falls.

* Peter visits Ben’s grave that evening.

He figures it’s only fair. He’s got a lot of guilt to work through, but he knows Tony’s going to be there every step of the way, and May’s going to continue being there for him too.

He doesn’t say anything, scared that his words would never be enough to mean anything, to amount to what he thinks and feels. He doesn’t know how to articulate any of his thoughts into anything real.

Instead, he lays the blueprints down on the dirt. He dug through storage until he found them. For the house Ben was going to build May one day. It’s a silent promise, that if he can do anything for Ben, he can do this.

He’ll try to keep the streets safe, he’ll try to be a superhero, he’ll try to be the person Ben always wanted him to be.

But he will build the house for May. He will let Tony take care of him the way Ben would’ve wanted him to. He will learn to forgive himself how he knows Ben has.

{I’ll be starting a taglist officially the next fic I post, so if you wanna be added let me know}

#lyss writes #febuwhump #irondad #Irondad and Spiderson #irondad fanfiction #peter parker fic #peter parker #tony stark #i know it's literally april but i finally finished febuwhump wow

[jimmythejiver]

For the first time in a long time I went to the movies in forever and then to Target. At Target I see some Godiva bars on discount yellow tags and I was ecstatic until I read 70% Cacao, Dark, Salted Caramel and was deflated.

Anyway that's how I felt about seeing The Green Knight. What you thought this was about chocolate?

No see since the pandemic I've been back on my perennial King Arthur kick. I've for a long time since I was a young preteen thought, someday I too will write my own King Arthur epic and it'll be gay, magical, gangster and culty too, but for now I'll make up my own stories for practice and then with every story I got attached too, it got too involved and convoluted to the point that when it came down to actually writing a novel, I threw it all away and made a space opera I only planned in two weeks and wrote in a month. Anyway...so now I've been writing this very gay, magical, gangster and culty take on Final Fantasy XV with my boyfriend and just fell in love with Somnus Lucis Caelum who nobody has any insight about him than to make him the Mordred to Ardyn's Arthur, which is a strange flex, but okay, I thought about what if I wrote a Dark Age prequel about Ardyn and Somnus, but Ardyn becomes king and Somnus his shogun and they play games of seduction and power because I'm twisted like that. Anyway...I was like I'm never going to write this and I have to keep making up characters based on FFXV characters and King Arthur tropes because there's not a lot of stories that take place during the Dark Ages, it's always some Roman Empire story, or High Middle Ages and FFXV gave no room for either society to happen after the fall of Solheim and the rise of King Somnus...so we left with Dark Ages, y'all, the King Arthur comparisons are obvious, but Ardyn is no Arthur and Somnus is no Mordred, Aera is only Guenevere if you make up an affair with Somnus, Gilgamesh is no Bedwyr/Bedivere, but uh...they both amputees and the oldest companions to their respective kings so...I guess. Anyway making an ancestor of Cor Leonis and deciding well he's Owain/Yvain, or am Ignis type as idk Sir Cai/Kay I guess, they both cook, but Cai's more like Seifer Almasy than any FF character... Anyway I'm losing people.

My plan was to just scrap the FFXV prequel, leave my Somnus ideas into Overtime (a gangster and gods story) and just plan an actual King Arthur adaptation. I'd have King Arthur the treasure hunter, leader of a warband turned founder of Camelot who fights giants, giant cats and dogheads, but also fights King Claudas of the Franks and King Aelle of the Saxons and Cerdic a Briton who puts in his lot with the Saxons, etc. It'd been a a glorified turf war, meanwhile Arthur's gotta make alliances with King Pelles, The Fisher King and his strange cult he's founded because, why yes I find the ends justifies the means prophecy of the Holy Grail Quest very culty because Christianity then does not resemble it now. Meanwhile you got the secondary plots of Mordred, Gawain, Lancelot, Percival, Tristam and other's going on because they matter and too many modern King Arthur stories sideline the knights.

So many have always sidelined Mordred as a final boss eldritch abomination in mortal flesh conceived of sin and give him no personality, or complex motives, or even just a relationship with Arthur. I also have noticed the general sidelining of Lancelot, or give him a chad villain upgrade if you must include him at all, and the villainizing of Gawain to the point that you don't even have to have Mordred, or Agravain as a catalyst shit stirrer in court, just slap Gawain's name on Liam Neeson in a top knot and you're good. Mordred can just be a child offscreen until last act...fuck that, while Morgan Le Fay can either be a villainess plotting her cabal through men, or a well-intentioned, ineffectual idiot. Fuck that.

Now Hollywood just be doing King Arthur first acts that suck ass, only for said director to get rewarded failing upwards by giving this same jerk the Aladdin remake. The tonally shitty, crammed in blockbuster mess of a cliche heroe's journey that sucks.

With that background I was excited for The Green Knight. I read an illustrative version as a kid, I read Tolkien's translation as a teenager, I read Simon Armitage's superior, but with liberties taken translation. I was prepped to go knowing that indie, or not they were going to make changes to weave the disjointed poem together. I'm excited that because this movie exists Project Guternberg's finally thrown Jessie Weston's prose rendition up on their website. I'll be reading that at some point when this blows over.

The movie adaptation makes a lot of...choices, many I wouldn't love, but would forgive had their been a payoff. There was none.

The journey was fine, the cinematography was a breath of fresh air after crappy slo mo, glossy action scenes ruined another. Guys, I don't think I want to see a Zack Snyder Excalibur, it'll marginally be better than Guy Ritchie, but that ain't saying anything. Leave Excalibur to the post-Star Wars 80s where it is impeccable for it's time. I liked Green Knight's breathable pacing, it's color palette's in the forests and mountains made up for the muddy grey of every Ridley Scott send up in the castles and villages in every other Dark Ages/Medieval story in the last I don’t know since the shitty 00′s. For all the dark tones when there was blues, greens, yellows or reds, they were vibrant in this movie to contrast the gloom of Britain. The soundtrack was good. This isn't all what makes a movie, but it enhances it so let's get to the story and what I did and didn't like.

Things I Liked: Gawain is still a novice in his career The Costume Dressing Everyone pronounces Gawain's name different. I pronounce it like Gwayne, or Guh Wayne, but here you got Gowen (like Owen), Gowan (like Rowan), or even Garlon who I'm pretty sure is the Fisher King's heir in some versions of that Arthurian story, so uh... The reference to Arthur slaying 960 men with his bare hands (Nennius for the win!) The Waste Land that is implied to be a site of a battle (an important aspect of the Arthurian landscape) The Fox companion No long grisly, drawn out hunting scenes. The Fox lives! No misogynist speeches

Things I'm Mixed: This being a dream, is the magic real? Are the giants? Is the Green Knight a figment of Gawain's imagination from a spell Morgan casted in him to hallucinate? Is Lord and Lady also figments? It's...a way to interpret the poem, but lazy and I don't see why it's got to all fantasy, or all dream...this movie makes it too vague you're stuck picking one camp than to accept it's a fantasy with dream and hallucinatory sequences.

Things I'm Meh: Morgan Le Fay as Gawain's mom. Look I fucking hate Morgause as a character and these two get merged and steal each other's aspects so much at this point the difference is who did they marry, King Urien or King Lot? Both are attributed to being Mordred's mom, Mordred is Gawain's brother...both practice magic depending on certain incarnations, both love and hate Arthur their brother and are in conflict with him. Saint Winifred. I actually liked this sequence, but I don't appreciate her as the tacked on wife in the later dream sequence as like...a contrast between the wife you should marry than the whore next door you don't respect anyway? I don't even know what lesson I'm supposed to get out of the damn dream sequence, or any of it? That Gawain should've married his girlfriend and then he'd be a just ruler? That he shouldn't be king? That he'd never have to make the same heartless, impartial choices? I don't know, he seemed like a king doing king shit because guess what? It never gets easier. Wars will be waged. The world didn't become better because he married the right woman, respected her and lived in obscurity. The world didn't become better because he made her his queen. We certainly don't know the world would be better Gawain had his head chopped off and dead XP They never reveal the Lord and the Green Knight as one and the same because of this shit.

Things I Hated: Arthur withdraws from the challenge because he's old. In poem he takes it on and Gawain takes it so he don't have to and he finds himself more disposable than the king. Gawain only takes the challenge because of arrogance. Arthur and Gawain had no prior personal relationship. I'd not have hated this so much if it wasn't compounded by it cancelling out the first two things. Gawain is portrayed as having no respect for his woman, or any woman, maybe his mother? He has to be pushed by Winifred to regain her head. Gawain is portrayed as arrogant, covetous and ready to pass the buck, or the bare minimum than have any honor or decency. It didn't matter the kid in the wasteland was shithead bandit, the way Gawain acted towards him, when he gets robbed, it almost feels like he deserved it and Gawain doesn't learn a damn lesson. I'll admit him taking the sword to cut his ropes and cutting his hands was a neat sequence, it shows him go from stupid, to almost clever and having will to survive...you know traits he had in the poem, but he stops showing these traits or growing. Basically Gawain has to be dragged kicking and screaming to help people and shows no fortitude when facing temptation, or when showing respect towards others, it's exhausting. You don't make this kind of journey story without character growth. Why are you skipping this? Also is it just me, or is this like when you take Frank Miller Batman and transport him onto a Bill Finger story? This is at best Thomas Malory Gawain (and this is charitable) transported on the earlier Pearl Poet's story. Stop it. It's not tonally correct and goes at odds with the story and the set up characterization you'd need to tell it. Speaking of which, you know how I get through the oof... of Liam Neeson Gawain in Excalibur? By pretending he Agravain instead. Here...I don't even think Gawain could pass as Mordred in spite of his covetous nature, lust and entitlement. Why? because I don't think even Mordred is this dumb to warrant this hubris. Essel being invented as a tacked on love interest just to be shit on utterly and for what? I don't think I have much commentary here as there is no Essel I'm aware of to compare, or stack up. I just notice this trope of like...usually if you include a sex worker in Hollywood she often has a heart of gold, she often has her own sense of values that goes at odds with society, but is more true and less hypocritical than a privileged lady’s. I thought that's what they would've done with the added trope of back at home sweetheart to contrast and pit her against the despicable femme fatale of Lady Bertilak and her adultery and her ladyship...and I'm glad they didn't...but you did nothing with Essel than to shit on her for existing when you made her exist, you know. Lady Bertilak being portrayed as the seductress devil incarnate. Look I know adultery is a touchy taboo, but uh her and Gawain hit it off in the poem, dammit! Her values and his values come to clash, but here it's played off as Gawain is stupid and covetous and Lady Bertilak wants to prove something because...? If my brother's theory that she's a figment of Morgan Le Fay's magic, then I'll take this as a lesson of Gawain is impulsive and covetous and his mom knows it, but he don't want to fuck his mom, but he wants her power, and Morgan wants to teach him a lesson... I guess. Hey we don't have misogynist speeches in this movie, but we'll make sure to have the movie drip with it with no point, or commentary. Pass. Lord guilting, extracting and initiating the same sex kiss and only once. Poem automatically better that Gawain don't have to keep being reminded to keep his part of the bargain and he does it willingly more than once. What he doesn't do is give up his belt...gods how did we get more homophobic as a society that the homoeroticism here is worse? Catholics of the middle ages officially had no issue doing same sex, passionate kissing until it lead to sex. The Ending: The gods damn ending. In the movie as is, Gawain waits to uphold his end of the bargain and get his head chopped off. He imagines, even though we don't get any fuzzy or distortion to indicate this is a dream, but I already knew this was coming, he runs away and comes home, is regarded a hero, he sees his lady, takes her from behind and if you saw Brokeback Mountain (I didn't, but DJ has) you know this is a sign of disrespect to women. He gets her knocked up, pays her off for the kid she wants to keep, he is crowned king, marries the ghostly saint lady he helped retrieve her head earlier from a lake in the movie (this right here is the damn tip off). There's no more dialogue by this point and everything is montaging, so you know by now it's a dream, though nothing is out of focus. He rules as a heartless king, his whore son dies from war he waged, he has a daughter, his wife dies. Gawain then takes off the belt that would've saved his life and his head falls off. This would've been the one good twist, except... In this sequence of events he never had his head cut off so uh... now we back in present day. He decides not to bitch out, Green Knight in a sexy way is like "now off with your head," movie cuts to credits with no resolve...uh what the fuck? What the fuck? This is not good. You wasted the one twist in your dream when idk, you could've...

How I'd fix it: No dream sequence at all. No Incident At Owl Creek twist. Gawain comes home a hero and survivor of this game and ordeal. He wears this belt of shame. He becomes a well-renowned knight, but he bears a shame. One day he goes to take off his belt and his head falls off because he cheated to get this belt and to survive this encounter. There. Done. Improved your high concept movie that couldn't play any of the lessons straight from the damn poem without making everyone an asshole for no reason! Ugh! But nope you had to end it on we don’t know if Gawain lives or dies...because...it's dream magic made from his momma's witchcraft...?

Last Thoughts So then post-credits scene because Marvel because Pirates Of The Caribbean existed. A white girl who looks nothing like Gawain's daughter we see who didn’t pay off, or any child I can remember through this whole movie picks up King Arthur's crown that dream Gawain inherited and puts it on her head. Who is this girl? Are we gonna have an indie equivalent of of the Marvel Movie Universe/Universal Horror Monsters thing with ancient British legends? We gonna get a Life Of Saint Patrick next that crosses over? I don't know. What is this?

[anothersillyfanblog]

Earth On Hell

This is my Sanders Sides gift for @marsupials-of-mars for @sanderssidesgiftxchange!!! Basically all the sides are demons, hanging out in hell, but one of them (wonder who) is a teeny bit more chaotic than the others. (P.s I am gonna post on ao3 in a few days as well btw.)  Btw I’m not great at tags so mega apologies if it still slipped through sorry.

Hell.

Lunch breaks round here weren’t boring- there was plenty to see and do in hell- it had just kind of reached a point for Janus where most of it had already been done. Hence why, no matter what his colleagues in the eighth circle said, there was something interesting about sitting down with this chatty little demon and watching the human flesh blister.

“Y’know what I think?” the younger demon, Remus, casually asked. Janus sighed. “I try not to.” “I think that everyone who ends up here is dumb.” He tossed a rat into his mouth “All you gotta do is act nice and suck up to the big daddy in the clouds- that’s it! Easier than boiling babies!” “No,” Janus raised his eyebrows. “Because it’s based on the nature of your soul not what you do.”

“Well that ain’t fair! What if you can’t HELP dreaming of torture and carving hearts into carcases (or whatever these idiots got in here for), like it’s in your pretty little head from day uno?” He wagged his finger at Janus. “They could never do anything wrong in their entire life but get sent here for naughty thinking… seems a lil shitty to me.” “Well apparently they can ‘repent their sins and get eternal salvation’.” Janus revelled in the other guys’ confusion for a moment. “Say sorry a lot and it’ll be ok.” “Ohhhhhhhhhhh right. Oh yeah ok.” Remus nodded. “Seems a bit suspicious, are you sure that’s a thing?”

A couple of screams got louder, and Janus turned to see a scrawny horned demon carrying a bucket and biting his lip. He had his arms comically wrapped all the way round it- an ugly neon yellow bucket with a ‘warning’ label (because hell needs health and safety standards)- and he was edging towards a nearby cliff.

“Hey Virge!” Remus called out “What’cha doin?” “I…” the horned demon tipped the bucket over the precipice as the screams intensified “…am adding a couple… of new souls… to the… whirlwind.” “Come get lunch, Virgil! It’s rat day!” he grinned, holding up a rodent “Also didn’t Pat tell you to do that like, a week ago?” “Yes but I’m also a dumb bitch.” Virgil sat down next to Remus. “Who’s this?” he glanced awkwardly at Janus. “I-” “HE’S my friend from the EIGHTH FUCKING CIRCLE!!!” Remus interrupted. “That not being the eighth circle of fucking, though it might well be…” “It’s not.” Janus clarified. “Yeah, I didn’t think it was.” Virgil smiled “I’m Virgil. I work with him under Patton? Second circle so-to-speak.” “Oh yeah I know the guy.”

Patton was the overseer for a lot of things in the lower levels. Not really a specific tier, or a specific expertise, but if you spent any time in one-five then you at least saw him. Most people ‘above’ him were aware of him in a general sense. Janus had met him twice? Three times? Yeah, if you counted bumping shoulders at the river Styx that one time, then it was three.

It made sense that Remus and Virgil worked for Patton- a lot of the younger demons did these days.

“UGH doesn’t everyone?” Remus whined “He is annoying!” “He’s your boss.” Janus observed. “Yes, and he’s annoying! I say we, I dunno, set fire to his ass or something…” Virgil shrunk into his seat “He’s our boss? Also he isn’t in charge of everyone, he has a boss right…” “Yeah, but uh…” Remus clicked his fingers “We were saying weren’t we?” he looked at Janus. “No. Whatever you think we were saying, we weren’t.” “People shouldn’t get here for wanting to do crimes!” he clapped his hands “I think we should break everyone out of hell.”

One week later: Hell

Work hours, naturally. Janus was trying to process new souls but honestly there was no signal and his tablet just wasn’t working.

“And they say eighth circle is an enviable job…” he tapped the screen “I- I’ll be with you in a moment, sorry about this.” He said to the guy in line to be thrown into the pit. “No, no, take your time.”

Finally, the sound of footsteps approaching! Janus looked up and smiled. “Ah, the tech guy! Yeah, there’s no service on this, so if you could-”

“Where’s Remus?” Janus smiled a little “Excuse me?” “Which circle can Remus be found in?” the tech guy kept his face stern (if he was the tech guy) “I know you know him.” “I’m working right now, or trying to, so come back when I’m not and then we can talk.”

The tech guy ripped the tablet out of Janus’ hands.

“Where can Remus be found?” “He isn’t an important demon-” “Lower tiers…” “Not what I mean, I meant you shouldn’t need him.” “But I do.” “Why?” “Irrelevant, just tell me where he is located.” “Well forgive me for thinking you’re going to hurt him, but I think you’re- you know- going to hurt him.” “Falseh- it’s inconsequential, I must find him.” Janus paused. “Fix my tablet, please. I believe you.”

The tech guy looked momentarily confused before realising what Janus meant and doing so. “Second circle, every time I’ve seen him.” Janus said “Is… is he in trouble?”

“Not with me, negative. I do not have the influence to get many people into trouble. As for the future…” he sighed “I would advise you to keep your distance from him, though that’s my observation.” He left off towards the exit of the tier.

Janus grimaced, looking at his now-working tablet.

“If it’s any consolation, it probably won’t affect you.” The guy in line said, making Janus jump in surprise. “Shit! I need to get all you processed, I am gonna get in trouble.” He smiled at the guy who now frowned. “Okay name and age at time of death…”

One month later: Hell

“Where’s-” “Remus?” Patton interrupted. “we’re dealing with it.” Janus chuckled “Will anyone down here actually let me finish a sentence?” “Of course, my apologies- what were you going to say?” “Where is Virgil?” he smirked. “He works in your general bracket, right?”

Patton breathed in sharply. No one had seen Virgil since Remus had started (conveniently) quietening down, and Janus knew it. Everybody knew it. His work tallies were still placed in- by who, nobody knew- but the second circle was widely lacking in Virgil.

“He’s doing some work on…” Patton’s eyes darted round rapidly “admin. He’s working on potential field experience up there, needs to put in the admin first.”

Janus raised his eyebrows, looking up towards the Earth. “The thing is, Pat, I’m Eighth circle. I specialize in fraud- you know what that is?” Patton nodded. “Deceit, Patton, lies. And every day suave fuckers queue up trying to tell me why I have ‘the wrong circle’ or why ‘they should get special treatment’ and guess what, Patton? It’s always bullshit.”

He stared straight at the other demon. “I have been doing this for too damn long to not have the fucking right to tear the throat of anyone, ANYONE, who dares to be as lousy as you at lying to me. So don’t ever tell me that Virgil is doing admin, FUCKING ADMIN, because no one here will believe- or miss- you.” He sighed. “Let’s start again. Where’s Virgil?”

Patton swallowed “I…”

“Do you not know?” Janus asked, “This will go a lot better for you if you just admit that you don’t know.” Patton shook his head “Not exactly, no.” he whispered, “We’re not sure where he is.” “Not sure or don’t know?” “We know he’s in hell… we know that, we’re aware of him but not where.” Janus pinched his forehead “Okay so out of all the nine circles of hell, you have no clue, none. Lovely.” “If Remus would co-operate…” Patton muttered. “If I would what now?”

Ah yes, Remus. Walking cheerily towards them, smile slightly wider than ever, living his best life. Of course it was most likely that he had been questioned on Virgil’s whereabouts, given their activities during the past month-or-so, but Remus had decided to ‘calm down’ now and had ‘no idea about anything that anyone was doing’. Or so he had said to Janus.

“Patton! You already know I told ya everything about Virge, didn’t I?” he grinned. “Of course, don’t doubt it.” Patton said, as if he were lecturing a child. “And you got all your silly little friends to stand down which was very good of you.” Remus clapped his hands. “Yes! I did that!” “BUT!” Patton wagged his finger “I think you may have forgotten places that Virgil could be- or things you knew about Virgil.” Remus gasped in shock “Oh no!” “We want to find him, you want to find him. Let’s do this together please.” Patton nodded towards Janus. “Isn’t that right?” “Huh?” Janus smirked “Oh yes, working together. Of course.” Patton smiled again, then turned to leave.

Remus groaned “Ugh, what an annoying piece of poop! Wanna feed him to a pack of rampaging squirrels!” “Where’s Virgil?” “Up your butt!” Remus laughed, “Just kidding, don’t check, I have no idea.” Janus nearly prayed out of sheer frustration. “Don’t fucking lie to me, Remus, unholy shit.” “Okay, okay!” he giggled. “So I might know… but I can’t tell you.” “Why?” Janus asked, confused, “You think I’m going to run to Patton?” Remus looked down “Well, Logan says you shouldn’t be involved in-”

“You’re still working with Logan? You said you’d told them to stand down…” Remus chuckled “You believe that?” “Well, no,” Janus admitted, “But I…what the fuck are you planning?” “Eh, just a little bit of trouble…” “What you did already was a ‘little bit of trouble’- hell, it got your supervisors’ attention, so actually it was kinda a bit more than that.” Janus explained. “I made a group?” “A militia.” Remus threw his arms up “Well, we barely did anything! Pat WAY overreacted!” “Not… if you’re actually planning something he didn’t.” “So you are on his side?”

“I…” Janus looked away. “I don’t want this going south. For you, Virge, us. That’s the bargain you make when you leave heaven, to look out for you and yours. Get what is considered ‘best’ down here.” “But what if what is ‘mine’ is…” Remus looked wistfully at the hurricane of souls swirling around them “Never mind. See you around!”

He made his way off towards the offices where he worked, leaving Janus listening to the winds scream for mercy.

One year later: Hell

“Here.” Janus held out a bucket of blood that spat angrily at both of the demons, “from management.” Roman didn’t look up. “Chuck it in, before they get too comfortable.”

Janus peered down at the bubbling lake, almost glad to see that some parts of hell hadn’t changed that much. He poured the new blood in and watched the souls writhe- no hope of Remus for this lot. Though somehow, in some corners, they screamed out his name. How? Patton had nearly torn his horns off the first time he’d heard it, because how? How could they know about him? And that was the problem when the fresh blood was added and the screaming began anew.

What they screamed for.

Roman rolled his eyes “I’ve never wanted them to stop more…” Janus scoffed “You should see Patton, he has lost it.” “How so?” “Apparently,” he began, “He’s been inventing and subjecting harsher tortures for any souls who mention his name- or the others.” Roman chuckled at this “Well! Woe betide any gossip outlet, then…” “He’s getting them shut down, I think.” Roman gasped “His higher-ups can’t approve of that- right?”

Janus raised his eyebrows “His higher-? Roman, after the whole, well, you know… after Remus did all that, his only higher ups were a couple of folks in what used to be ninth circle.” He looked to the lake of blood. “Now? I don’t think some of them would even challenge him…”

“Oh.” Roman smiled. “How long’s that going to last?” “What?” “Patton- in charge? Until things are figured out, right?”

At this Janus started to laugh. He kept laughing and laughing till Roman joined in then realised it just wasn’t funny because it never had been.

“Forever.” He scowled. “He’s going to stabilize and reorganize the layers he has, take back the ones he doesn’t, put the souls back into torment, then execute the demons. All of them. Remus, Virgil, Logan, Remy, ALL OF THEM WILL DIE. Painfully. And then! He will rule over hell forever.”

“That’s a bit cynical.” “Well EXCUSE ME-” “No, I just thought- being an ex-friend of Remus- you might’ve been more cheerful.” Janus bit his lip. “We weren’t friends because we were even remotely similar. We were friends because I was bored, work was boring.” “Okay, makes sense!” Roman smiled. “So we’re all gonna end up working under Patton (if we aren’t already) and it’s gonna be aaaahhh ooohh not good very bad?” “Little bit more than that, but yes.” “Ah so more painfully terrible every moment we’re awake?” “Yeah.” “Hm… why not leave?” Roman casually asked. You know, casually.

Janus scoffed “Because of the whole dying thing?” he gestured wildly “I can’t go off on my own; I don’t stand a chance, I can’t repent; you have to mean that shit, and I can’t go with Remus and his crew because- because…” he looked down “I’m sorry Roman but the reason I never got too involved in the first place is because what he plans just isn’t going to work. He can’t win- he’ll die, and if I get involved then I will too and the point of all of this,” he spread his arms round “Is so you can look out for yourself, so you don’t have to be selfless and give up everything for someone else. Why do I have to be ashamed for not wanting to be a martyr?”

“I… you don’t.” “Exactly” Janus snapped. “If you truly believe that this is what’s better,” Roman added. Janus whistled “No, that’s…” he shook his head “Anyway. Whatever happens, they can’t be faulted for trying.” “No, absolutely not! Wait we are talking Remus and-” “Of course I’m talking about Remus’ lot.” Roman nodded “Ah, well yes- I agree. They’ve done a surprisingly competent job, all of them.”

They both paused for a moment. “It’s because they have the tech guy.” “It’s coz of the tech guy.” Roman agreed “I mean it’s not like the rest of his crew can’t organize things, but…” “It’s the tech guy.” Janus concluded “I hear he orchestrated the ‘Virgil plot’.” “Exactly!” Roman exclaimed “and that was wow, just impressive as anything (if you don’t mind me saying), like- hiding Virgil for that long to steal that many souls? If they don’t win it’ll be a little depressing.” “It’ll be more than that.” Janus smiled solemnly.

“It’ll be the end of life as we know it.”

Ten Years Later: Italy.

“Virge!” Janus could hear someone calling outside of the cavern “can you get that thick ass over here, please?” That ‘someone’ was probably Remus. “Janus, that includes you too!” “How does ‘Virge’ include me?” he called back. “Don’t question the king of crimes!”

Reluctantly, Janus stood up and wandered out to the frosty mountainside. He grimaced- the cold bits of hell had never been his favourite, even when they flaunted ‘coveted positions’ and such. Still.

“You want a coffee?” Remy asked. “Please.” He gestured over to a nearby hut “The coffee machine is right there, honey.” “But I never get the ratio right…” Janus pleaded. Remy chuckled and sipped his drink “Girl, that just ain’t my problem!”

“Janus!” Remus grabbed his arm suddenly and yanked him away “You sexy motherfucker, I called you an AGE ago! Now come on!” “Right, what do you need?” “Emotional stability…” Remus placed his hand on his chest “Just kidding! So basically, the waterpump’s broken (but Logan’s “dealing with that”), we received word that Patton has guns now- so we need better defences just in case- and also Patton has guns so yeah. Can we have those please?” Janus’ eyes widened. “Ok so is Patton-with-a-gun confirmed, or a rumour? Because hell basically never deploys projectiles.” “Are you sure I can’t be used as a projectile?” Remus half-spoke aloud “Yeet me at them.” “You’re getting distracted.” “Oh. Yes, it’s confirmed. One billion percent.” Janus pinched his forehead “Well, somehow I doubt that statistic, but okay. Let’s work on anti-gun strategy, defence, etc. because it is possible they’ll get hold of unholy projectiles specifically for us.” “Why can’t we get guns?” “Maybe one day, but if you actually think I trust you with a GUN-” “Fair point”

“Um, I was called?” Virgil was stood in the snow, watching them talk. They both jumped. “Yeah like, FIFTY YEARS AGO!” Remus cried. “Oh I’M sorry, look I did show up- it’s just I didn’t want to interrupt…” he trailed off. Janus smiled. “That’s understandable.” “That’s understandable.” Remus mimicked “Ooh, whatever, we were just chatting! No rules on chatting! Also what are your thoughts on guns?” “I think we should focus on hiding for now…” “BORING! Guns?” “Let him speak” Janus warned. Virgil looked down “I mean, our last skirmish went well, and we are getting more to join… but right now I think we should focus on what we have. And that advantage is mystery. Let’s keep it.” “Ooh mystery! Spooky!” Remus wiggled his arms. “No, I get what you mean.” Janus nodded “Like how you got so many in the beginning because they were intrigued, people will talk if we stay off the map for a while.” Remus tutted “Oh, you. Being sensible.” He frowned “We’ve been lucky, haven’t we? To live?” Janus smiled “Like this? Absolutely.” “Yeah, we should go under. Be sneaky! Recruit people who aren’t dicks and so on.”

Logan agreed with the idea for once, which was probably because it was Virgil’s, but also he stated: “We have already been living ‘both figuratively and literally underground’ so it makes an appropriate amount of sense to make this an officially secret place of dwelling.” 

He also agreed with Janus’ gun-plan. This, of course, being that they focus on defence and perhaps work on getting weapons of their own in the future. Though he was a little heavier on the “no gun-wielding-Remus” stance, stating: “On no condition can he be allowed a gun, none. Others in our company- fine. I will trust from the upper-most generals to the smallest child amongst us with a projectile, but never Remus. Oh and can we consider adding Remy to that list?”

Janus didn’t bother to question the part about trusting children with guns, he simply nodded and got to work on defence, sometimes smiling at Remus as he did.

And it didn’t matter what anyone was or wasn’t doing, Remus always grinned away.

One Century Later

#i'm sorry if i miss any tags #or if this is trash #sanders sides #sanders sides gift exchange 2020 #demon au #Janus Sanders #patton sanders #logan sanders #remus sanders #virgil sanders #roman sanders #remy sanders #ok now warnings #idek what if i miss something??? #gore tw #i think #threat cw #blood cw #is there a warning for eating rats? #ok wait #remus antics #hell stuff #writing #my writing

[jasperwhitcock]

02. DISTRACTIONS

i’ve decided to continue with the au of bella as a vampire & edward as a human inspired by a post from @bellasredchevy, so here’s another installment (you can read the first chapter here). if anyone has thoughts on if it’d be more preferable for me to post this fanfic on wattpad/fanfiction.net/another website rather than posting it on tumblr, let me know :-) if not, i’ll continue to post here & figure out some tag to make it easier to find!

The boys had left for a hunting trip, so I found myself falling victim to what Alice liked to call a “sleepover”. It was a ridiculous name for this kind of occasion. An unfortunate part of what we were consequently lost us the ability to sleep and thus, dream. I had found this to be something I considered an advantage when I was first changed. I had so much extra time I could devote to reading! Unfortunately, the excitement didn’t last very long. I still enjoyed the benefits of all the ample time, but I did miss the creativity of my subconscious that allowed me to live in other worlds unrestricted by the more sentient, aware parts of my mind. I missed escapism.

I even missed the nightmares at times. I had been such a vivid dreamer.

Additionally, it was even further ridiculous to refer to this as a sleepover when we spent every night together. Without the sleep and the ‘over’ aspect of spending the night away from home, this was definitely the worst sleepover I’d been to in the course of my existence.

Although, as a bonding time amongst the women of the Olympic Coven, with the exception of some of Alice’s ideas for activities, I enjoyed this kind of night very much. I’d have gone with the boys to hunt if I had any intention of returning to school tomorrow. I’d owe them an explanation when they returned as for the tension that filled the car as we drove home from school. I hated to be the center of attention, so I was appreciative when Alice and Rosalie agreed to keep the horrific encounter a secret for now. I didn’t want the scrutiny of their concern nor the dramatics of the situation.

I was lucky that they had plans with Carlisle. Rosalie was able to convince Emmett and Jasper to begin their night early by allowing us to drop them off at the hospital – much to the dismay of my bulkier brother who had spent his day eagerly anticipating our rematch. My other sister easily dismissed their suspicion of our motives. Nobody questioned Alice twice. I was glad to have more time to mull over what to say to Carlisle. As much as I wanted his guidance, if I could put off growing the audience to my moment of weakness for another couple of hours, I’d gladly take the distraction of Alice braiding my hair into a long plait down my back while she blasted music in the garage where Rosalie worked.

Typically when we had nights like these, we each selected an activity to do together. Alice made the choice  – unfortunately for me – to sort through all of our closets and rid them of items she no longer deemed wearable. With the exception of a few favorites, we rarely wore the same things twice, so it seemed like a waste of time. That is until I realized that this was all just a ruse to chastise me for the items of clothing she stocked in my closet that I didn’t wear. My small, voyeuristic sister was pleased with Rosalie and Esme, creating a nice, substantial pile of clothing to donate, whereas my closet ended up acquiring even more clothing than before. I was far too moody to care to protest.

Esme arranged for the four of us to paint together while some french movie played in the background. As an added challenge, she had Alice describe a vision to us, and we all attempted to capture the image on our canvases. Rosalie simply wanted our company as she continued her ongoing project of restoring yet another classic car that she’d eventually gift as an item for a charity auction. My activity of choice usually was the same: I’d select a book for us to read, and we’d have a book club to conclude the night once we’d all finished.

Tonight, however, I wasn’t feeling entirely up for it. Although I definitely wouldn’t mind the fictional escape away from Forks, I didn’t have it in me to sincerely participate in the conversation that would follow.

I wanted to move beyond the events of this afternoon already. As much as it disconcerted me, I didn’t want to be so severely consumed. I was growing irritated with the feelings of disappointment that preoccupied me. I had taken my ease in this life for granted.

Although I knew it wasn’t his fault, I found myself becoming frustrated with the Masen kid. When I began to see eyes materializing in the green brush strokes of the trees of my painting, I unintentionally destroyed my canvas. Something about the perplexity in his shockingly perceptive irises and the intelligence that marked his thick eyebrows when they pulled together was inexplicably haunting me. The irony of feeling haunted when I was the undead creature was not lost on me.

“I’ll grab you another one, dear,” Esme soothed, exchanging worried glances with Rosalie and Alice before disappearing to bring me another large square of coarse, woven white fabric to vandalize.

When the lyrics of the song Alice sang along to as Esme handed Rosalie the tools she needed began to creep into my head and develop new meanings I didn’t want to hear, I abruptly sprang from the driver's seat of Rose’s convertible and ran from the garage. I wanted to unravel in peace.

I stopped when I reached the large, grey stones of the riverbank.

The forest was peaceful. It was nearly dawn; a pale, purple-grey tinted light cloaked the scenery before me, the orange and pink hues of the morning sun that should fade into the navy-black of the night sky were hidden behind a thick layer of rain clouds. The water of the river flowed sinuously by as some birds sang far in the distance. The greenery was enveloped in the fallen rain of the night, droplets of water clinging stunningly to every blade of grass, every needle of pine of the lush vegetation like crystals and diamonds. A cold mist intimately caressed the river, enveloping the landscape in a fresh haze. I could now see the vision Alice described a few hours prior come to life. Here I stood now, quietly, amongst the skyline of trees in daybreak.

I closed my eyes to the muted beauty of this morning, indifferent to the ephemerality of the moment. How many mornings had I seen like this? They were all already cemented in my infallible mind. I breathed in, the cold air whistling deliciously down my throat. On my tongue I could taste the minty, rain-kissed evergreens, the warm streams of blood pumping the tiny, fluttering heartbeats of the smallest animals, the earthy, sweet brooks leading back to the river. The wind softly stroked the sparkling spring water, and as I focused on the faint whisper of an insect’s fluttering wings, I heard the lithe, recognizable stride of my adopted mother approaching. With her came new scents and sounds – white gardenia, freshly baked bread, honey, peach blossoms, a whisper of lush silk, a hiss of air, a gentle nuzzling of fast footsteps on glossy moss.

She arrived by my side but said nothing, joining me in my silent reverie.

“You have nothing to say?” I asked after we stood there for some time, Esme watching what I assumed was the faint hint of the sun rising beyond the clouds, lifting the overcast view into lighter shades of blue-grey. I could feel the slight difference in temperature against my skin.

“Is there something you wish for me to say, sweetheart?” Esme asked gently.

I finally opened my eyes, turning to meet her topaz eyes full of love and patience.

“Not really,” I half-smiled, feeling guilty.

Her beautiful mouth widened into a smile, lighting up her heart-shaped face. She seemed to find some humor in my honesty, letting out a peal of laughter that frightened some distant creatures into silence at the unexpected sound of bells. Her caramel-colored waves of hair shook lightly with the motion.

“Oh, my Bella.” Instantaneously, I was enveloped in her warm, velvet arms. “It is absolutely valid to feel such despondency, but we must celebrate that we are not mourning the loss of another life! For that, I am very proud of you. And I’ve been so relieved that in this life you’ve never had to grieve the mistakes that even I have made...but we would never feel differently towards you if you had. Nor do we feel differently that you’re experiencing a struggle much more strenuous than before.”

She paused before continuing more fervently, “it makes you no less strong, and you will have the strength to resist...I believe that with all my heart. Please don’t feel so disappointed with yourself. You must give yourself some credit and patience and forgiveness. It pains me to see you so cheerless!”

“I’m sorry I seem so...down,” I sighed, resting my head dejectedly on her shoulder. “I guess, to be frank, it just...sucks to feel like I don’t have the super sense of self control that I thought I did. I’m beginning to feel bad for Jasper now,” I snorted bitterly.

She laughed again at my colloquial choice of words.

“Perhaps you owe him an apology. You and your brother have given him an awful lot of trouble for how he struggles,” my mother accused me teasingly, stroking my hair just as my sisters had. The comfort was nice, but I also felt irrationally remorseful to have any need for it.

“Yeah, maybe I do,” I frowned, thinking of having to put aside my pride.

She pulled away to hold me at arm’s length, cautiously studying my face.

After a moment, she pulled me against her again in another embrace.

“I will leave you alone now. It seems you would benefit from some more time by yourself to think without your sisters’ futile attempts to distract you.”

I could tell she was smiling from the way the words left her mouth. “But I won’t allow you to wallow in pity forever.”

Esme released me from the hug and reappeared four yards away from me, the expression on her perfect face stern. “So take the time you need to process how you’re feeling. But only be alone if you need to be. Don’t let yourself be lonely. That’s very important...You know where we will be.”

With that, she was gone.

I couldn’t understand why I was so inconsolable. Of course, I valued her words and the sentiment. My family’s understanding and support were wonderful to have, but I couldn’t shake the upheaval the boy’s blood had wreaked on my thoughts. It seemed to me a cruel joke, that after all these years of so naturally adjusting to this life, I now experienced the true, macabre consequences of this form. Would I have traded the ease that had accompanied me until now if it meant I’d never have experienced a magnetism as strong as the sweet scent that lingered just beneath the Masen boy’s frail skin? Would I have chosen to struggle more the entirety of my existence if it meant I’d have avoided the ferocity of that moment in my suddenly not so banal biology class? Maybe I would have.

This must be some kind of punishment from some god somewhere. Why else would I experience such effortlessness only to be met with an unendurable, unassailable call to reject everything good about my existence? I never gave much thought to religion in either of my lives. I suppose that after I’d been changed, it’d seem like a far more interesting subject because what could be the implications of an existence such as mine? Did my being a monster provide more validity to the existence of a god? If mythological evil creatures plagued the earth, then couldn’t a supernatural deity who created the universe exist as well? Or did my being a monster provide evidence that there was no god – because who could create such a despicable creature?

It had been far more evocative a topic to Carlisle who had spent much of his life after his transformation pondering these questions, but in all truthfulness, it never bothered me much. I adjusted well to this life. I understood why I was changed and didn’t long for my humanity the way some of my other family members did. Of course, I hated the risk I posed to human life, but my conscience felt clear as my record remained clean. I never endured any self loathing for what I was.

Only now did I question myself. Only now did I wrestle with the ramifications of my immortality. Only now did I feel in its entirety – I had experienced strong desires for human blood before but never like this – the true shame of lusting for the end to someone’s precious life. Only now did I truly feel like the monster I was.

I was finally recognizing the wrongness within me.

I was mistaken to feel resentful and angry with the human boy. He did not make me this way. I had always been this way. I had just been blind to the fact for all these years. I had been naive.

He was entirely innocent and deserving of the life he would live. One where his future would not be stolen in a high school biology classroom as his body emptied. One where he would graduate and go on to better schools. One where he would have a successful job in something he was interested in that provided him with purpose. One where he would meet someone smart and kind. One where he would marry, have a family, and grow old surrounded by his progeny.

I suddenly experienced a strange sensation. A feeling I hadn’t felt in years – jealousy. Though I’d never envied a human before, I envied the possibilities this boy had. I never mourned the choices that were no longer available to me. I graduated countless times. I held countless jobs. I felt fulfilled in providing to the world with our philanthropy and loving my family. In that, I found purpose. I didn’t care to have children.

But did I care to experience romantic love?

I loved romance, but I never minded that it was unattainable to me beyond the pages of a novel. I’d met other vampires, but were the odds in my favor to find a soulmate amongst such a rare kind? I didn’t think so, and I was fine with that. I was happy in my solitude. At times, I was the odd one out in my coupled-off family, but I had often felt like the odd one out in my previous life. It wasn’t a new experience, so I never cared. But in thinking of this human boy’s life, free of monsters, free of me, I came to the realization that unlike myself, he could have anyone he wanted. He was not bound by anything other than maybe his own inhibitions. He had the luxury of choice in every aspect of his life but also in love. He had simply the luxury of love itself.

Why were these thoughts coming to me now? I had so much time to ponder my existence, and suddenly this encounter had me incomprehensibly considering inessential things.

I take back my previous feelings about the boy’s innocence. He is stupid and culpable. He’s inspiring stupidity in me.

He’s very fortunate that I have a conscience. I could just as easily murder him in irritation of the havoc his existence is inflicting on my life.

I refocused my thoughts on the scenery before me, longing for the previous morning where I watched the verdant motion of the trees outside the car window after Emmett’s silly destruction of the novel I still had yet to fix. Somehow, it seemed like a long time ago.

In that memory, I eventually found a small moment of peace again.

No painted eyes could haunt me here.

And yet, I was left with a sense of uneasiness, feeling as if my life thus far had been a long exposition, and I had just encountered the inciting incident. I was feeling – though I’d been irrevocably altered once before – as if something would soon change me forever.

we all know stubborn bella wouldn’t yeet herself to alaska like edward’s dramatic ass. hope y’all enjoy hehe <3

#twilight fanfiction #twilight renaissance #twilight au #twilight saga #the twilight saga #bella swan #edward cullen #jasperwhitcock #esme cullen #alice cullen #rosalie hale #vampire #equinoxjw