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especiallythewomenandthechildren · 5 months

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As If Destiny (part eight) 🌹

Part Seven 🌹

Warnings: Parent death, sibling death, death and brutality (it is the hunger games after all) characters may be ooc. Reader may not be your fav this part. I read the book a while ago but don't really remember much of Snows way of thinking (I mean I know its toxic and insane but yk the other things) so I will mostly be basing off the film and my own thoughts. Also I can't spell for the life of me so be prepared for bad spelling and grammar. Enjoy loves!

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The air of the station was stale, as if taking the simplest of breaths would cost a significant amount of energy. It felt as though even the bugs buzzing around in the spring weather were flying in slow motion. Maybe it really was the air, or more likely, the atmosphere of your mind.

You felt nauseous and dizzy at the arguments that split your soul. The tributes were to arrive today, naturally, Jessup with them. Were you here to give the best first impression or to size him up? A part of you wanted to save him from the horrors, but the lately very loud voice has been telling you that he deserved it. Especially a boy from District Twelve, around the age of those who murdered your brother in the dense woods of the small district.

Your long time waiting for the train arrival was spent trying to settle that internal struggle to no avail. You were staring straight ahead onto the empty tracks when something felt different. The peacekeepers were still stoic, tracks still echo-filled at even the slightest noise. But a slight breeze was felt behind you. When you turned around, that breeze of fresh air happened to be a certain blonde with irresistible eyes.

He was in the rouge academy uniform, as were you, and he held a pristine white rose in his hand. He had clearly expected the station to be empty, so the sight of your drained eyes made him suck in a breath.You let out a tired laugh at his appearance.

"So are we allowed to be here, or are we both going to receive whatever nightmare Highbottom has set up for us?"

Coryo walked to stand next to you as he retorted back with a sly grin.

"At least we will go through whatever the punishment is together."

"Ah, yes, nothing shakes the trouble duo!"

He took a sideways glance at you as he started chuckling.

"Trouble duo? That's really the best you thought of? I thought you were the poetic one."

He joked at you as you gasped in mock offense.

"I'm sorry, do you have any better names for us?"

Yes. Yes, he did. But none of them had to do with Highbottom or any mocking moniker. His personal favorite was "couple." The others were a bit ambitious and would be used in the far future, such as President and First Lady. Not a bad ring to it. But he wouldn't voice out his desires, even if he was on his death bed. Especially after what happened in that hallway yesterday.

However, you were too busy observing for the upcoming train to notice Coriolanus's gaze. When you turned around, he didn't shift away his gaze.

But you didn't question it. Maybe because it has become familiar and a comfort these past weeks. You had ammunition of reasons such as his hyperobservation to explain these glances. Not a single one of them hit the real reason.

The blonde was fidgeting with the rose slightly, which made a slight laugh creep past your lips. It took him a second to realize the cause, but when he did, he slightly blushed.

"I would have gotten you one too if-uhm, I knew you would be here."

Your lips curved into a shy grin at his flustered words.

"I'm not the one you need to charm, Coryo; you did that a long time ago."

You noticeably were avoiding his eyes, and he let it be because he was quite sure he was turning as red as his uniform.

"Can I ask why you are here, Coryo?"

He seemed a bit taken aback at your sudden question. Of course, he knew the reason he was there: to win the Plinth Prize. To do that, he needed Lucy Gray's trust, and this was just the way to do it. But he feared his reasoning was a bit too harsh. It was the last days of this girl's life, and he was just seeing her as a means to an end. Coriolanus didn't want you to think of him as heartless or worse, that he would be using your trust as a means to an end as well.

So he simply replied that he wished to gain the odd girl's trust, and this seemed like a good way to get a head start. You nodded along, agreeing that she seemed like the character who wouldn't do anything without trust.

Although, your eyes seemed to darken after his reasoning. He couldn't decipher the look completely, but it was clear guilt was a factor.

"Y/N?"

Your faraway eyes and mind locked into his at hearing his soft voice.

"Why are you here?"

You stared at him, slightly getting lost in the ever-shifting color in his eyes. You looked downwards as you breathed out.

"I don't know. I wish I did. Something told me I should come, see him for myself. Maybe it will help clear my thoughts on everything here. And I know a part of me wishes to find something in him to justify his murder."

You bitterly admitted. You were still glanced down when Coriolanus responded.

"This isn't your fault; you know this, right? You didn't choose him, and you didn't make the games."

He let it sink in for a moment, enough for it to visibly break through your guilt-made walls. Coriolanus waited for you to finally regain the will to look up at him.

"And if anyone has reason for the things you are thinking and feeling, it's you. They still want us dead. The Capitol says the war is over when it's far from done. I mean, come on, these kids are the next generation of rebels. It's either them or us."

His tone started out light and soft but quickly turned to stone. You wanted to argue with him, to shout at the top of your lungs that they are innocent and no part of the massacres you suffered. But how could you? How could you fight your exact sentiments?

You knew he was right, no matter how much it hurt your morals. They were old enough to feel fear. Old enough for that fear to become hate. Hate to violence.

And they were old enough to kill. The minimum age for the Reaping was twelve. You and your classmates had the ability to take a life at half that age.

After that, the long-awaited train began pulling into the station. You've only ever seen a train in person once. When you gave miniature hugs to your uncle Averic and freshly fourteen-year-old Octavious.

You were only five at the time, and the upcoming horror of the Dark Days were still a few months away. There were others there saying their goodbyes, but you weren't focusing on them. Or how they began filtering out as the time for departure came closer. You were still clinging onto your older brother's legs as your mother, aunt Fiora, and uncle Averic seemed to be in serious talks.

"Otto?"

The young boy seemed to be trying to listen in to their conversation, and it took a little slap to his leg to get his attention. When his eyes, which were the same shade of yours, landed on your own, they softened from his prior harden state of focus. He knelt down to your height as he turned all his attention on you.

"Why are you leaving?"

The boy had to take a shaky breath. He had slightly hoped you would just accept your mother's reasoning that he "just had to go." But, of course, you, being too attentive and curious for any kid your age, just couldn't let his absence go. In reality, he didn't have to leave. He had forced himself to be involved. It took every stretch of persuasion to convince his uncle to let him come along to what was being described as "a small rebellion."

He wasn't to do anything but take note and follow his uncle's lead. Otto dreamed that within a year, he would be given his own battalion, and the next, be his own commanding general. It was not extremely unusual for a young man of age sixteen or seventeen to be in command. Averic Emberidge was a living example. And like his maternal uncle, Octavious Vaun had great military promise. He had life promise.

He had promise.

And a promise given to his young sister. That he would come back.

Otto achieved his goals of military prowess. But the young man, no matter how skilled or trusted, broke his promise to the person he loved most.

But back then, the promise was fresh and believed to be easy to keep. The platform was empty save for one family by the time your own was forced to part. Your mother and aunt switched between the two members who would be off in District territory. You stood back and watched the goodbyes as a man approached.

He was tall, broad, and commanded the air of the room. As if even the rules of the universe had to bend to his will. He had two children and an older woman trailing behind him. All four had bright and magnetic blue eyes.

The Snows were not easy to miss, not even miles away, as though their powerful aura was felt in all areas of proximity.

He stopped right in front of your mother, who stood in a deep green fashioned vintage day dress. The beautiful woman still looked forward, slightly past her brother's shoulder.

"Cloria. Fiora."

He gave a nod after each name. The former turned to him with those still captivating eyes. The latter rolled her own pair at his presence. He acknowledged your uncle and brother as well, but they would have time for conversation later. They were all to be on campaign together after all.

Crassus and Cloria broke away for a very brief discussion while you still stood a bit away from the group. Your uncle noticed you and your lack of an official goodbye and smiled in invitation. You sprinted into his now-open arms as he spun you around, much to your oblivious enjoyment. When he set you down and grabbed your arms to make you focus on him, his prior smile dissolved into a grave thin line.

"Hey, kid."

Uncle Averic's voice wasn't the joyful one you were used to. You knew then that you needed to listen up and closely.

"I know you are a tough little girl. I saw how you beat up your brother, after all."

You smiled proudly while the aforementioned beaten boy scoffed. He was referring to the past few weeks in which Otto taught you how to fight. It was safe to say he wasn't expecting your level of skill and dedication. The fourteen-year-old just wanted you to have basic defense skills, but your speed of skill accelerated the lessons considerably.

"But y/n, things are going to be a little different now. I need you to watch out for your mom and aunt Fi, okay? I know Rhayen will be there, but you are responsible too. You are smart and strong, kid, just don't be reckless. Your mom doesn't need any more stress."

Your uncle struck his hand out, and you shook it in agreement. It didn't hit your young mind all that you would have to endure to keep this agreement.

Your mother and Crassus seemed to be finishing up talks, so you turned to Otto, who seemed to be holding back tears as the gravity of the situation hit him.

"Hey."

His still-changing voice broke. He scooped you up in his arms as he stared down at you.

"I will write all I can back home, and I'll make special letters just for you, okay? I'll draw out the words for you."

You could read, and at a very accelerated level for a girl your age, but Otto was already missing the days where you would draw out what you were feeling in situations you couldn't speak out loud.

"No! I want words, I can read Otto! I want hard words too!"

He laughed at your little pout of demand. Your determination to push yourself even in that small way was one of the many ways you motivated him throughout the war. Otto knew you were waiting for him, so he rushed to come back. But even his speed could not make him outrun fate.

Your mother had come back and had taken you - begrudgingly - out of her oldest child's arms. You watched them board the train and watched the adults' reactions. Each had a different expression.

The older woman who was with General Snow, who you would eventually call Grandma'am along with her grandchildren, looked proud; she looked overconfident and a bit arrogant. Fiora was on the brink of biting her finger off as she bit nervously at her nails.

And your mother. Her eyes were scanning the train, but they saw two worlds. One where the three men would come back, unscathed and victorious. The other was grim and the unfortunate reality of only the news of their death coming back.

You remember as you scanned the faces, all which were focused on the now-departing train, one was staring back at you. Even all those years ago, Coriolanus was always a face of comfort and reliability. Across the platform, you two bore into the soul of the other, trying to make sense of any of the chaos around them. Your family began walking towards the west exit while his the east.

The distance grew and grew, but so did the intensity of your connected gaze. Neither seemed to want to let go. As if you both knew this would be your last look for three years. The last look as unscathed children.

But those children grew up. And you were back on a train platform with those ever-searching blue eyes. Though, no longer did he search for sense or his father, but now for his ticket out of poverty. A ticket in the form of a fascinating brunette.

He walked towards the now-opening doors of the cattle train. The smell was foul, but you followed him. Some tributes got out, either by their own or forced out. A bat also flew out which you noted. The tributes looked at the Capitol duo with a range from curiosity to murderous intentions. You went down the near entirety of the vehicle the two from District Twelve appeared. Jessup got down first and helped Lucy Gray down by her waist.

You and Coryo sucked in a collective breath. Any last-minute nerves had to silence themselves because it was far too late now to back out.

Jessup immediately noticed you both and sent a glare. He stepped closer to Lucy Gray in protection while she was busy taking in her surroundings. The movement of Jessup and his noticeable stare past her made the girl turn.

She was quite beautiful; the screens didn't do her justice. She had coffee brown eyes, matching colored hair, and clear, tanned skin. But it was her expression that added to her beauty. She was clearly suspicious, to which no one could blame her, but as she raked over both you and Coriolanus's forms, she had a slight grin of curiosity.

It was quite a contrast to her fellow tribute, Jessup. His eyes were sharp, and he was clearly displeased at your presence.

But you cleared your throat anyway, although Coryo beat you to speaking.

"Welcome to the Capitol."

He held out the rose for the girl, who took a long good look at it before taking it.

"We are your mentors. It's nice to meet you both."

You said sweetly and had a small smile to which the girl returned but fell flat on Jessup. You put your hand out to Jessup, but not surprisingly, he left you hanging. You gulped down your embarrassment and bit your lip, signs of uncomfort ot unnoticed by Coryo. Lucy Gray looked you both up and down as she sized you up.

"When I was little, my mama used to bathe me in buttermilk and rose petals."

She took a petal off and stuck it right in her mouth. She gave it a good taste followed by a smile.

"Tastes like bedtime."

You turned to Coriolanus, who was still wide-eyed at his tribute's actions. You didn't know exactly what to expect when you came here, but it surely wasn't this.

"So what do our mentors do?"

It seemed like Lucy Gray was going to do all the talking as her friend stayed stone-faced besides her.

"We do our best to take care of you. Lucy Gray, Coriolanus is your mentor while Jessup, you are stuck with me."

Lucy Gray nodded along and examined her mentor once again. Jessup examined you as well but not in the pondering way his companion was. Rather, he looked like he was thinking venomous thoughts of you and as if your being was yet another punishment he had to endure.

Any further conversation was interrupted by several peacekeepers motioning for the two from twelve to get moving. Lucy Gray looked over her shoulder and wished you both luck on that front while she was being pushed towards a small vehicle along with the rest of the tributes.

Coriolanus already began asking the silent peacekeepers if we can escort them, but none were willing to answer. You followed him aimlessly, ready to start your exit and walk to the Academy. You both still had classes today, even though they were modified to center around your mentorship. But Snow wasn't willing to give up.

When a tall and lanky boy tried to make a run for it and distracted the peacekeepers, a certain look overtook Coriolanus. Everything seemed to be blocked out, just him and the door to the truck. You had a feeling what he was going to do and cursed him once you saw his legs start pumping.

I hate you so much, you idiot Coriolanus Snow.

Your chant of dislike was all you could think of as only a split second after him, you followed him into the abyss of the vehicle that held twenty-three (Wovey yet a year away) teenagers who wanted you both dead. A desire they might just get once the doors shut, trapping you in.

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As soon as Coriolanus landed on the truck, he went directly towards the back. Your legs weren't as tall as his, so it took enough effort from you to get on the truck that you fell onto the floor. That was when Coryo noticed you had joined him. His eyes widened in fright, and he moved to pick you up when another tribute shoved him against the back wall. He let out a painful groan as he tried to charm his way out of the situation.

The tribute holding onto him was even taller and considerably broader than the blonde boy.

"I'll kill you right now."

He snarled at Coriolanus and was backed up by a sick girl.

"He killed a peacekeeper back in eleven."

You learned that the peacekeeper killer was named Reaper, and the ill-looking girl was named Dill.

The threat on Coriolanus's life made you get up in a second and get ready to stop any further action. But as soon as you landed on your feet, your position mimicked Coriolanus's as you were being shoved by Coral, the girl from four. You knew she was Festus's assigned tribute and she seemed like a clear delight with her wicked smile.

"I call dibs on killing her."

Her breath, with the scent of fish still lingering, fanned all over your face. But unlike Coriolanus, your face didn't show any fear or desperation. You held her gaze with a glare of your own. You've fought off a lot more menacing figures than her.

While you had no fear, Coriolanus was taken over with terror.

"Don't you touch her!"

He made a move against Reaper, who shoved him back even harder against the wall. His struggle made the red head girl holding you laugh.

"Aw, how cute. Your boyfriend tryin to help you, princess."

Your hostile glare deepened at that. She had so much confidence in her ability and power over you. And while she was much stronger than you, she was sloppy. She didn't even hold back your hands or disarm your legs. You could easily throw her off if she made a move.

Lucy Gray watched the events unfold and glanced at Jessup who seemed okay with letting their mentors suffer fates similar to their inevitable ones. She didn't like not doing anything to help them. They were supposed to help her and Jessup, right? They would be at a clear disadvantage if something happened to them.

Plus, you and Coriolanus were interesting; nothing like what she imagined Capitol kids to be like.

As the rest of the group agreed on the murder of the academy students, Lucy Gray piped up.

"Y’all got family back home? They’ll kill them if you hurt them. Then you."

She made sure her message was clear. The thought of their families being hurt made them pause, as well as the instant death. In the Hunger Games, they at least had a shot at living. Reaper loosened his grip, and she continued.

"Besides, he’s my mentor. I might need his help."

She nodded her head towards the disgruntled mentor. She didn't mention who you were mentoring because she hoped Jessup would speak up. She knew Jessup didn't necessarily care for you, but he knew you might be some sort of help. The dark-skinned boy didn't get to speak up before Coral, however.

"And you a mender, princess?"

She shoved you again, which made Coriolanus flinch, but Lucy Gray motioned with her eyes for him to stay in place. His involvement would only make things worse.

"Better hope I'm not yours."

She didn't like your answer if her teeth-bearing snarl had anything to say about it. Something about it fueled your fury.

"Do you know why they call it the Hunger Games?"

You beckoned her with a slight smirk that angered the aggressive girl across from you.

"I'll still kill you."

She threatened you as she didn't know where you were going with this. The unknown was a disadvantage to her and fueled her fear.

You asked again, and the sweet-hearted Wovey answered instead.

"Because there is no food."

She answered confidently and in that sweet voice, which felt so wrong in this environment. You didn't want to go ahead with your plan of words, but when Coral turned back from looking at the little girl to you, the fire was back.

You stared straight into the angry eyes of Coral with a menacing smile.

"Oh no, there is plenty of food. I mean, look around. I see twenty-six bodies of food."

You could feel the girl's arms shudder, and you saw the rest of the faces go pale. But you weren't done.

"Hunger stands for the hunger in one's eyes. Once that bell rings, that hunger takes over. Hunger for blood, corpses. For survival and victory. And if you lose focus for just a second-"

You made quick work as you shoved Coral's arms off of you and placed them behind her back. You have now reversed places as she struggled against the wall and beneath your far more forceful and effective hold. Attention was still hooked onto as you finished your lesson.

"You're dead."

Your quick move shocked the entirety of the truck, including Coryo. He knew you could fight back from your younger days by the pestering of Festus, in which you gave him a solid black eye for days. Yet, he didn't know just how good you were, much of it still from your brother's teachings and occasional lessons from Rhayen.

You were ready to let the girl, who still wore her scowl but couldn't hide the fear behind her eyes, go. Although, you bent closely in front of her face to let her know your last message.

"You better thank your lucky stars I'm not in that arena with you. I already won my games."

You hissed out the now positively infuriated teenager. The other tributes ranged from absolute horror of you to confusion on your last statement and how you were so cutthroat. No one expected children of the Capitol to have this in them.

The entirety of the truck's eyes were on you, except Lucy Gray. She looked to Coriolanus to examine his expression. She wanted to know if this was all a front or your sweet nature on the station was. The best way would be to see what the boy, who clearly knew you, thought of the situation. His face was not expressing fear or confusion like the others, but rather a sad look of understanding.

All of the Capitol struggled most definitely during the Dark Days and still with its legacy and effect. But you were one of the few to suffer nearly all the horrors it brought during the war and the only one who still lost after it. The rest of your classmates seemed to move past the traumas, but not you. Maybe it was because of your mother, but it always seemed to play out on repeat behind your still-shining eyes.

Lucy Gray's eyes bounced from Coriolanus's face to yours again. She seemed satisfied and understood. You weren't bluffing. Though, as she looked again at you, she saw your eyes soften. You realized all you had done and said. You had felt threatened, and it had just become instinct to take control of a threatening situation. It hit you that you just became Coral. It was clear she was scared of being here, and her menacing demeanor was a defensive mechanism. And your haunting words were yours.

Lucy Gray took note. Maybe she and Jessup could trust you. But all of a sudden, the truck began shaking harshly and began tipping as the doors opened into the bright light. It shocked you, and due to being closer to the door, you were one of the few to fall. You fell silently but locked eyes with Coriolanus as you did, which was enough for him to let go as well. He was already slipping anyway as Lucy Gray hung onto him, and the truck began tipping.

The mentor was able to land without a scratch and checked on Lucy Gray, who was the same. She looked to her friend, who dusted himself off from where he landed a few meters away from her. Coriolanus watched her make it to Jessup when he began frantically looking for you.

You were more in the middle of the area, which he soon realized was the Capitol zoo. He scoffed at the insult to the districts as he rushed to your side. However, you weren't as lucky as those in the back. You had landed face first into some rocks, which busted a nasty cut above your eye. You had swatted away Coryo's helping hands and slipped off your academy blazer to dab at the blood.

"Huh, look at this. Capitol bleeds."

Your head snapped up to meet the mocking Coral. Coryo looked as if he was going to pounce on her, but you pulled his arm back. He helped you up as you looked past his shoulder.

"What in the world is the weather guy doing here?"

The quite loud presentation voice of the notorious Lucky Flickerman was heard as he tried to get your and Coriolanus's attention.

Lucy Gray and Jessup had moved towards you two while Coral walked off. When Coriolanus heard that he was live for all of the Capitol, he began to panic. His breath became rapid and shallow. You were quick to grab his cheeks to make him look down to you.

"Coryo. Look at me. It's nothing you haven't done before. I'm here with you, okay?"

You waited for his nod to smile back at him, which calmed his nerves considerably. Your tributes watched on, slightly amused. Lucy Gray felt charmed by your clear looks of affection, although it hurt her due to her own recent love troubles. Jessup felt amused that the girl who was just threatening Coral was so taken by a skinny, lanky, and pale boy such as Coriolanus.

You both turned to the other half of your makeshift group.

"Lucy Gray Baird, Jessup Diggs, let us introduce you to our neighbors."

You beckoned them forward, while you opened your hand for Lucy Gray, who took it with an amused tilt of her head. Jessup and Coriolanus shared a look, in which the latter looked at the former's hand and was swiftly met with a clear "no" at the thought of the two mirroring your actions.

When you reached the edge of the cage, you noticed two small children. Coriolanus moved to the other side of Lucy Gray while Jessup moved to you, still a bit back. However, your attention is quickly taken by the questions of Lucky Flickerman.

"Who are you two? What are you doing in the cage here?"

Coriolanus responds and explains the situation to Lucky while you and Lucy Gray focus on the children in front of you.

They seem very taken by Lucy Gray, and she is quite the charmer. She captures the attention of all around with her honey-like voice and witty answers. Soon enough, Lucky focuses on her, eager to learn all about the strange girl. She explains the Covey and the importance of her beautiful dress.

"This dress was my mama’s so it’s extra special to me."

You glanced at her with a shared sympathy as she informed the ignorant host of her mother's passing. She felt your stare shift and turned to you as you gave her the slightest of nods. You didn't know if she understood its meaning, but her knowing eyes crinkled with a smile that let you know your message was well received.

Lucy Gray had a good feeling she could trust you. Maybe if she somehow won, you two could be good friends. She was a charmer and well-liked in twelve, but she didn't really have friends besides the Covey; who were more family than friends.

"Do you know the wonderful mentors for me and Jessup? Seems we got the cream of the cake 'cause no one else even bothered to show up."

You took a gulp and forced a smile as the camera visibly moved to focus on you.

"Well, we've met Coriolanus Snow, yes?"

Flickerman paused to ensure he got the blonde's name right and was met with a nod.

"And who are you, young lady? And did you get that nasty cut from the other tributes when you jumped in the cage? Were you told to jump in?"

His questions flew a million miles a minute, but you responded with grace.

"Hello there. My name is Y/N Vaun and oh no, I fear I am quite clumsy."

You covered up the fact that you might have had your neck slit if not for Lucy Gray.

"And the game makers didn't tell us that we couldn't. They just said that it was a mentor’s job to introduce our tributes to the citizens of Panem. And we thought, well, if they were brave enough to be here, then why shouldn’t we be, too?"

You looked up to Coriolanus to assure your answer was sufficient enough, to which he agreed. Lucy Gray did have one adjustment though.

"For the record, I didn’t have a choice."

Which you couldn't help but tilt your head to the side in agreement to her statement while Flickerman opened up again.

"For the record, I think you both are about to be whisked away."

Suddenly, two strong peacekeepers began dragging you away with Coriolanus. You fought them off to freely walk on your own as you noticed Lucy Gray stop him and whisper urgently, to which he agreed.

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The walk to the academy wasn't too far, but your pace was set quite fast. You and Coryo were already going to attract a lot of attention; missing class for an assumed press event with the tributes was a big no. Your dash to the prestigious institution was a silent conversation between you and Coryo. There didn't feel like much to say as you both were too far in your heads.

Coriolanus turned to you slightly as the question that's been burning in his mind came out.

"Why did you jump in the truck with me?"

You didn't even hesitate as you answered him, still looking forward.

"Are you seriously asking me that, Coryo?"

When you were met with nothing but silence, you turned to him.

"You jump, I jump. You throw yourself in a cage filled with people who want to gut you? Expect to have a friend with you. Maybe it will make you think before you do something stupid next time."

Your answer and vow of companionship caused a satisfied smile to overtake the handsome boy's features. It stayed there for some time before your now dark voice piped up.

"Do you remember the station?"

Your sudden question broke the prior silence. The fair-skinned teen looked at you in question.

"The station we were just at?"

He felt as if he missed something. The thought of being out of the loop unnerved him. You motioned that the recent setting wasn't the point of your question as you elaborated.

"No, I meant right back when the rebellion started. That day when they shipped off."

The heir of Snow's face scrunched up as he thought of the memory; one of his first clear ones. Young Coryo was so confused with all happening around him. Crassus rarely acknowledged the five-year-old's confusion while grandma'am kept on repeating curses about the rebelling districts. Though, as always, Tigris tried to calm down and help her little cousin. She wasn't that much older but she was old enough to understand; her uncle, the sole provider of their family, was to be off across the country. It worried her beyond what her youthful face would show. A face constantly lit up with the warm smiles her young cousin elicited.

But there were moments, although few, where Tigris's attention was elsewhere besides Coryo. One of them being on that now demolished train station, where she watched Crassus Snow depart from the Capital and eventually, their lives. It was in that moment where Coriolanus didn't look to his cousin for comfort but rather the girl with curious and wandering eyes. He had seen you before, but that was the day you truly entered his life. The young man laughed sweetly at the memory.

"You refused to look away even as we were being pulled away."

"Hey, you didn't look away either!"

You retorted back to the reminiscing adolescent. His eyes were still glued forward as you neared your destination. Out of his peripheral vision, however, he noticed a solemn demeanor took you over.

"Funny how different my only two train experiences are."

You laughed without humor, a grim noise.

"The first time, I had the privilege of ignorance. Hands were clean. And the people. Nearly every person I loved in one place. Fast forward today. I'm all too aware of the blood dripping from my hands, and I keep on making it gush."

You paused to take a bitter breath while refocusing your eyes straight ahead. You both were nearly to the entrance of the academy campus.

"Not a single one of them made it out alive. The only one was you."

The boy in mention furrowed his brows at your statement. It didn't strike him until now that you were right. Every member of your family on the platform that fateful day is six feet under. And by the way you spoke, so was little five-year-old you. The thought of your absent family made him reflect. His life wasn't easy in the slightest, but he did have his loved ones, no matter how little the number was. Sure, his grandma'am was a bit eccentric and not whole in the head, but she was a reminder of the glory indebted to the Snows. She was, most of the time, a sweet grandmother and a constant pillar of support.

And of course, Tigris. His life was mostly filled with darkness, metaphorically and literally with the high cost of electricity. But Tigris was always a light shining bright. Guiding him when he was lost in the slightest bit. He left that station with nearly the same family he has today, excluding his cold father. And even though his absence was a painful reminder of their living situation, Tigris often reminded Coryo that was given a chance to be a better person without his father's controlling and cold nature. A chance she tried to make possible at every possible moment.

But you didn't have a single member of your beloved family anymore. It was true your father was alive, but Coriolanus knows he has all but officially stepped out of your life. A move that made the young man resent and hold a place of disrespect in regards to your father. Your feet had carried you through the vast academy doors and down the hallways leading to the class you should have been in half an hour ago.

It was when you were mere feet from the door when a realization hit him. You said everyone you loved was on that platform and he was the only one to live. wait. did you just- does that mean-

"Your little excursion was in violation of about five different Academy rules, Mr. Snow and Miss Vaun. Chief amongst them, endangering a Capitol student."

You had entered the domed classroom, and Coriolanus couldn't further question your prior statements. You had ascended up the stairs with Coryo following close behind. You turned to question Dean Highbottom, who didn't even look up at your presence.

"Neither of us forced the other to go. We went on our own accord."

You responded back to the dean still focused on his papers.

"I don't care how or why it happened. You both put yourselves in danger regardless. I’m moving for the Gamemakers to disqualify you as mentors immediately."

You scoffed at his actions in disgust. He really jumped at any chance to make Coriolanus suffer. Highbottom has now become a plague you now have to deal with as well. Young Snow didn't appreciate his operation against him and you as he questioned his validity.

"You said we had to get our tributes to perform, not that we had to stay away."

"I’ll add insubordination as well."

Coriolanus opened his mouth to retort back when he was cut off by a chilling voice.

"Snow and Vaun fell down in the cage."

The ever-infamous Volumina Gaul appeared with a devilish smile playing on her bright red lips. She crept closer as she continued.

"Snow fell down in the cage but it landed…"

Her riddle was quickly figured out by the pair who answered at the same time.

"On stage."

The quick and correct reply made her wicked smile grow impossibly more.

"You’re good at Games. Maybe one day, you two will be Gamemakers like me. You are quite the pair."

The decrepit Casca Highbottom turned to watch the interaction and grumbled at the head Gamemaker's implication.

"If the Games continue at all."

"Oh, they’ll continue. With performances like young Mr. Snow and Miss Vaun's in that zoo."

The eccentric woman made her way to the end of your row as she questioned.

"Which one of you had the idea to jump in the cage with the tributes?"

You and Coriolanus knew neither of you had an idea that you would end up there. That doesn't mean the brave (and stupid) idea to jump in the truck came from nowhere.

"Coriolanus was the one."

You were quick to respond that the boy couldn't cut you off to mention your own involvement. That doesn't mean he didn't have his own speed in answering.

"Y/N was the one who fended them off, though. She also was the one who thought of presenting Lucy Gray after gaining her trust."

To say Dr. Gaul’s already peaked interest didn't skyrocket would be an understatement. She remembered her surprise, an emotion that appears very little in the woman's life, at seeing the two academy students in the zoo. Their elegance and charisma in their performance were extraordinary. And to see how fast they are to jump to the other's defense and bolster made the peculiar woman ache for more. She may have found not only one but two promising students.

"Holding her hand, Y/N? Introducing her to people? You make it look as if we’re one and the same as those animals."

The disgust was clear in Clemensia's voice as she spoke. She was willing to give you the benefit of the doubt when it came to Sejanus, who lived most of his life in the Capital after all. But straight district? That was a whole different level of abhorrence.

Said district - not district boy had his own opinions to voice.

"Coriolanus and Y/N didn’t show those people anything they didn’t already know. That the tributes are human beings. Just like us."

He paused to let the idea sink in for the snobby children of the Capital. You and Coriolanus were not surprised at his little outburst, but that doesn't mean you were happy with it. You were very far from it. Sick and tired of constantly hearing the saintly nature of those in the districts. But the curly-haired boy continued.

"That’s why nobody wants to watch the Games. It’s because people know deep down that winning a war 10 years ago doesn’t justify starving people’s children, taking away their freedoms, their rights."

You stayed silent as your nostrils flared, and your teeth ground against each other. You weren't sure where all this anger came from, but you assumed part of it was all your memories of the war becoming so clear lately. The constant yapping of Sejanus that they are oh so innocent while you remember otherwise did not help the blood boiling. Your symptoms of rage did not go unnoticed by Dr. Gaul.

"And what do you think, Miss Vaun? Are the inhabitants of the districts human or animal?"

The entirety of the class focused on you as you took a second to compose yourself. You took a deep breath, and instead of looking at the woman who proposed the question, you locked eyes with Dean Highbottom.

"They are obviously humans."

The man's eyes seemed to have an odd look of relief at your response, but you weren't finished. Your eyes didn't blink nor flinch as you bore into the older man's eyes. "

Animals are incapable of reaching a man's level of sinister."

The recipient of your gaze flinched at your tone and words. It felt as if you stabbed a blade straight into his already shattered conscience. However, your answer sparked new levels of interest within Dr. Gaul. You seem to be more of a promise than you initially let on. Sejanus was far from impressed by your answer. You never spoke out against the districts before; what caused you to now?

"Some of those kids were two years old when the war ended. The oldest of them were only eight! They didn’t have enough to become sinister."

His tone implied the thought that your description of the districts' "humanity" was ridiculous. The people outside of the Capital were good. Far better than those within it, clearly. But Sejanus's blind opinion of them brought you to new levels of anger. You scoffed out a breath of pure disbelief as you turned to stare straight into the brown eyes of the boy.

"Too young? Eight is quite old enough to do sinister things. Look around, Sejanus. You think any of us, who, by the way, were those eight years old, survived by playing with our dolls?"

You paused, trying to compose yourself, while all pairs of eyes were on you. Well, all except Sejanus. You two have never had a quarrel. If there was anyone who the rest were certain would back up Sejanus, it would be you. But here you were, spitting words of venom and unfortunate truth.

"Death doesn't discriminate by age. War doesn't discriminate by age. Each and every one of us here had to become soldiers and survivors by age five." You paused, "Does that sound like humanity? Like the pure good you preach about the districts? They are just like us. Whether or not you want to see it. You claim us evil and we might be. But tell me who do you think caused us to be so harsh? If we were able to kill at six years old, I am quite sure those sixteen-year-olds wouldn't bat an eye. If you don't believe me, let me ask Otto."

The mention of your brother caused the already dead silent classroom to stiffen. Even Highbottom, who disliked yet another reminder of Cloria Vaun (or Emberidge, depends on what memories), had to throw back another shot of morphling. Sejanus was already uncomfortable with your sudden shift in demeanor and your public argument. His discomfort increased when you began using the words "we" and "us," but the mention of Octavius Vaun made him freeze. You rarely mentioned him and if you ever did, you couldn't bring yourself to say his name. You never gave the full details of his death, but you told him enough to know it was a subject never to be brought up. Now that you did, he, along with the rest of your class, knew you weren't going to be able to be controlled.

And you weren't. You didn't let up your hold on attention for a good while as you kept going.

"Hmm? Or how about we ask all of our classmates that should be here? All those people who should be our friends, lovers, siblings? What about those infants who died before they could take a breath because their mothers died of starvation? Let's go ask their corpses, huh! Oh wait, right. Just go around and ask the Capitol population. We didn't have a body clean-up system back in the war. What do you think we did with the bodies?"

The slow realization and remembrance of whispers of the war crept back to Sejanus's mind. Your voice was steady as you continued.

"We had to get whatever nutrition we could, no matter where it came from."

Clemensia had turned deep shades of green at the mention. At the memories.

"Y/N, please stop."

Her wobbly voice and discomfort did the exact opposite of her pleas. You took a look around the classroom to see your peers avoiding eye contact with you and looking one step away from barfing. The sight made you laugh in dark hysteria as you now addressed the room.

"Really?! That's all it took? Ten years? Ten years and you forgot everything! Now that you don't have to throw the last words of your loved ones in a fire to keep warm! These pristine uniforms and marble classrooms enough?! You forget when you had to survive for weeks off of a single rat carcass? When you had to fight deranged old men for a half-empty bag of moldy peaches for your entire family? When your only drink was your own blood? No memories!? No memories of the insanity causing people flinging themselves off of rooftops and others beating the vultures to cut up their corpses!"

Your voice was in a full, rage-fueled yell by the time you finished. You would have continued if a hand on your shoulder didn't signal to stop. You looked up, ready to fight whoever it was, until you realized it was Coryo. You expected him to be embarrassed of you, maybe angry. But he wasn't. His eyes seemed to be glowing with understanding and a shared irritation. After a minute of you calming down, a voice perked all too happily.

"My, my, what a declaration!"

Dr. Gaul was all too eager at your fury. Her blood was on fire with excitement at your sentiments. The question she initially came here to ask you and Coriolanus was finally ready to be asked.

"What are the Hunger Games for?"

The woman looked between you and Coriolanus, eager for an answer to which the latter responded.

"They’re to punish the districts for their uprising, to commemorate the end of the war."

Her smile was gone at the disappointing answer.

“Commemorate the… Dull, dull, dull. Punishment can take myriad forms. Why not drop bombs, cancel food shipments, stage executions? Why Games?"

Her question was not met by either of the two students she wished but rather the clear sympathizer in the form of Sejanus Plinth.

"Shouldn’t we be asking ourselves whether or not they’re right in the first place?"

"You have a problem with my Games?"

Any answer was intercepted by Dean Highbottom who has more than enough of this discussion and development.

"Perhaps the Capitol students are ill-suited to be mentoring tributes. Perhaps the Game’s time has passed."

It was then when you regained your voice.

"It clearly hasn't. The Games, whatever their ultimate purpose, is a reminder. To the districts, most definitely, but also the Capital. It is clear that most here wish to forget and hide away the horrors we've endured. Forget all you wish, but the districts won't. They have to suffer what we did and we have to remember why."

Dr. Gaul was taking in your answer. And it clearly pleased her, whether that be a good or bad thing. That curiosity and thrill continued as Coriolanus added in some suggestions.

"Maybe we should be viewing those tributes as human beings. I mean, you saw those kids in the zoo; they just… they just wanted to get to know Lucy Gray. If we need people to watch, we should be letting them get closer to the tributes before the Games. To make the stakes personal."

As your apparent partner continued, the gears in your mind started turning.

"Who will watch the Games if they care what happens to the tributes?" Arachne questioned. And you were the one to answer.

"Everyone."

When you answered, Coriolanus looked to you with a ghost of a smile on his lips as you understood.

"You wanted them to be spectacles? What's better than letting them share their characters? Their lives, dreams, regrets. Biggest loves and losses. If you want people to watch, they will when they have people to root for and against."

Young Snow was quick to pick up after you.

"And if we bend a few Capitol laws, we could even have them place bets. The winner of the arena may not be the same as the winner of the people."

You jumped back into the conversation with a slightly more chipper tone.

"Give them interviews to learn who they are. Maybe we can even do skill tests. If you use Coriolanus's betting system, it can give even the weakest of tributes more of a chance. People would not only be able to bet on who they like the most but who has more of a chance. Not to mention they would have the power to change those odds."

Dr. Gaul was at all-time levels of elation at the pair. She knows promise when she sees it.

"I’d like you to write up a proposal of these thoughts tonight, Mr. Snow and Miss Vaun. "

You turned to look at said Mr. Snow when a certain raven-haired girl stood up from her seat next to him.

"Wait. You mean you might actually use their ideas?"

Clemensia thought her two high-achieving friends' ideas would just be left floating and not actually implemented in one of the most important events of the country.

"If it’ll help the ratings, why not."

Dr. Gaul’s words made the realization hit you like that cursed cattle train. Your ideas were shared in a slight haze of excitement and lingering fury. If your suggestions really were implemented, you may have just subjected generations of children to death.

Your revelation was clear on your face as Sejanus looked up to who he called his closest friend. He felt slightly betrayed by your outburst, but more so confused. Though, his anger and confusion dissipated a good amount when he saw the horror of realization upon your face.

On the other side of the star pupils, Clemmie slightly shuddered as the outlandish Gamemaker turned her cold gaze upon her. The young woman put on her charming smile as she tried to weasel her way into success.

"Coriolanus and I are class partners, Dr. Gaul. We do all of our assignments together."

You shared eye contact with the girl's partner who seemed to be just as skeptical as you. You turned in Dr. Gaul's direction, which also happened to be Sejanus's. You looked down and saw his face look glossy and hurt. A pain that transferred over to you at the sight. But that would be for a later time. For now, you looked up and informed the Gamemaker that you would be doing your proposals on your own.

The classroom was filled with the manic laughter of the woman. Doubt started filling up your veins at working with the prominent figure. Her bright teeth shone bright as her diabolical smile grew.

"It’ll be an interesting test."

A test of intellect, character, and survival indeed.

⋆✦⋆⋇⋆✦⋆⋇⋆✦⋆⋇⋆✦⋆⋇⋆✦⋆⋇⋆✦⋆⋇⋆✦⋆

You and Coriolanus sat at a small table on the edge of the cafeteria. You wished to be nowhere near the prying eyes and gossiping mouths of your peers. But apparently, Lucy Gray asked for food, and you couldn't let her or Jessup go hungry. Yet, you were now an active hand in their death.

That ever so active voice in your head kept on screaming against your heart. Your napkin was full of the food that used to reside on your plate, and now you were just waiting for Coryo, who came in a bit later than you. He was fast and smooth in his movements and was barely deterred from his actions when a voice rounded your table.

"You trying to fatten those kids up so you can finally start taking bets? Make sure they look lively enough to make good interviews?"

Sejanus spewed his remarks as he sat down on a chair at the head of the table. You glanced down in shame, but the words didn't bother Coriolanus.

"You think they’ll give those kids a scrap if we don’t give them a reason to do it? How do you think your tribute will have a chance if he can’t eat?"

You looked between the two. Sejanus seemed to concede at that point while Coryo kept on stuffing the napkin. The brown-eyed boy's voice seemed to soften in pain.

"He was my classmate. Back in two."

You sucked in a sharp breath. It was already hard enough for him to be a part of the game, especially being given a tribute from his home district. But his own classmate? If you were Marcus, you wouldn't spare Sejanus a glance or a word. And that was the worst part. Sejanus would try to help in any way he could, but the situation he was in, "the lucky one," wouldn't make it very easy to gain the trust of his former classmate. Coryo stopped his movements to look at the only boy he could call a solid friend.

"It’s not your fault it’s him."

You both knew that it would still sit on his conscience, no matter if he really was to blame or not. His scoff said it all.

"See, I know. I’m so blameless, I’m choking on it. My father bought him for me, you know, at the Reaping, just so he could show me that I could never go back to two."

You couldn't believe it. It was common information to you how much Starbo tried to change his son. That doesn't mean you expected him to go to such lengths.

"Maybe you could use that to your advantage."

Sejanus whipped his head to you as he squinted at you. The girl in front of him wasn't the same angry one in the classroom. No, this was the same one who he called his best friend for years, yet it just confused him even more as to why you would suggest that. You were quick to elaborate when it seemed that neither boy caught on.

"You want the Hunger Games to end, right? You can do something about it. No real change will happen unless it happens in the Capital. You are one of the few who can actually do something and one of the even fewer who wants to."

Sejanus seemed to be contemplating your words when Coriolanus added on.

"The best way to change it is to be subtle. Small little changes and actions cause enough damage over time."

Sejanus looked down at his two friends' laps and looked back up with a smirk starting to form.

"Like napkins of food. Make them strong enough to be remembered. Quite the rebels."

His smirk seemed to be contagious as it spread to Coryo. You had a smile as well that only grew as Coriolanus spoke again.

"Oh yeah. I’m bad news."

His eyes were on you the entire time as a blush crept on you. Your teeth couldn't help but show as the three of you got up and started your walk to the Capital Zoo.

Like your morning walk with Coriolanus, this walk was short but a bit more cheery as your little friend group conversed. You feared Sejanus would hold your prior actions against you, but he understood, as always. Well, that and Coryo's explanation on how you both expanded the odds for the weaker tributes instead of making it worse.

You and Coriolanus were recalling the earlier events of the morning that didn't appear on live television.

"Wait wait, you did what to her?"

You were holding back a laugh as Snow described how you switched up Coral and the overdramatization of it.

"Okay, first of all, I did not knock the life out of her. And she was getting on my nerves. Like if you are gonna threaten someone, at least do it right!"

The two boys shared a look and laughed a bit at you. A laugh that was swiftly met with a glare.

"Wanna see me execute my threat, Plinth?"

He was quickly grabbed by his sleeve by Coryo to ensure his friend's safety. You turned forward with a smug smile at their fear while they walked a good meter away from you. Soon enough, however, your little moment was met a swift end as you reached the zoo.

There were far more visitors than this morning, but many seemed to be a ways away; the tributes being watched from afar. You and Coryo spotted your two tributes on the far left side of the area, laying their backs on a large rock. Marcus was on the other side, so your trio split as Sejanus tried so hard to get him to take the food from his hands. A task that was unsuccessful.

You got closer and saw Lucy Gray smile at Coryo and the food he carried and promised he kept. She noticed the napkin of food in your hands as well, making her smile grow.

The singer walked to the bars while Jessup stood behind, still pensive at your presence.

"Is that for us?"

She took the two napkins out of the Capital students' hands, handing one of them to her friend. He didn't even give the food a glance as he bore into your eyes, displeasure evident.

"I’m not hungry."

You had a polite smile prior, hoping to get off on a better start this time. But his refusal made it slightly deplete. You understood why. You and the rest of the Capital students here, which now included Arachne, must have seemed like a cruel joke life played on him. You were willing to walk away, maybe try to focus on helping Coriolanus with Lucy Gray if Jessup refused you.

But Lucy Gray refused the boy who protected her to go hungry. She pushed the food into his hands like a mother would to her child.

"You think I can’t hear your stomach growling, Jessup Diggs?"

He looked between the food, his friend, and you a good number of times before he surrendered to his growling stomach.

Satisfied, Lucy Gray turned back to Coriolanus and seemed to settle in across from him. You doubted Jessup recreate the friendly posture, but you sat down a bit further down from Coryo. She wasn't much further from Arachne, who seemed to be playing a torturous game with her tribute, Brandy.

Your face contorted in disgust at her actions. The girl was going to already struggle, what is the need to play with her hunger?

"You sure you don't want to play with me first?" You turned your head from the perusing scene to the new voice. In front of you stood Jessup Diggs. He stood there, analyzing you as if you were a puzzle that had no connecting pieces. Your eyes moved down the concrete you sat on as you let out a soft, sad laugh.

"Already bad enough I'm not in there with you. Don't need to rub it in any further."

He squinted his eyes down at you. Every statement that has come out of your mouth has only served to confuse him more. From your very first meeting, the truck, earlier when you were in the cage, and now. Arachne's moves and character were what he expected when he was traveling to the Capital. But you and Coriolanus (and a recent brunette curly-haired boy on the far end of the zoo) were the anomalies. Lucy Gray told him to accept your help as she would her mentors, which was reasonable enough.

But why did it seem like she actually trusted you two? Sure, you jumped in with them, but it seemed for more personal gain than their tribute's benefit.

You looked back up to a questioning Jessup. He didn't understand what you meant that you should be in there with him.

"What's the difference between us? I happened to be born in the right place, I guess."

Your nonchalance intrigued him more than it brought fear. You may be just putting up a facade to make him trust you, but what would be the point? He was gonna die soon enough.

Jessup, much to your surprise, sat across from you as he gobbled down the food. He noticed you looking down and eyed you suspiciously. You just lightly smiled and promised to get him more if he would accept. He turned his head from side to side in thought, which caused the left side of his neck to be exposed. A dark and deep mark appeared against his skin, which caused you to have an instinct to reach out and help.

However, your sudden movement towards his neck caused him to back up rapidly. The action caused Lucy Gray and Coryo to look over in fright. But neither of you looked back as you stared at him apologetically while he eyed you again.

"Sorry, I just noticed and worried me."

You mumbled it quietly, which was oddly enough, reassuring to Jessup. He did see the worry appear in your facial features. The emotion was too deep and genuine to be faked. He slowly got back to his original position.

You kept your hands to your sides as you looked over his wound. Your eyes moved from his neck to his deep brown eyes.

"It looks new. Can I ask what it's from? I may be able to get some medication."

Jessup wondered how much was available to you at just a snap of a finger. Were you the type of person to do that? His assumption of the Capital made him believe so, but your personal actions proved otherwise. Especially your little stunt with Coral.

"Bat bite. Got it when covering for Lucy Gray. Rather me than her."

Your eyes went from warning to a softened glow. He didn't like the feeling of trust building

"I don't want medication though. I want to go out my way."

You couldn't help but smile at his conviction. If he didn't get medication, there was no way he would be able to survive. But that didn't seem to bother him.

"Jessup, if it's from a wild bat, there is a likely chance you can get rabies. Are you sure? It does wild things to those infected."

The effects of it bothered Jessup slightly. He didn't want to die as a deranged man he couldn't recognize, but he didn't want to give the people who took everything from him the satisfaction of his death. He shook his head in assurance, and you were ready to drop it when a thought sprang through your mind.

"I am willing to drop it, but please, be completely sure if this is what you want. Do you have family back home who need you?"

The mention of his family made him clench his teeth, and you were sure you messed up. You were quick to apologize, but that didn't erase the pounding thoughts of the boy's family.

"The only thing they need me for is to clean their gravestones."

Your gaze was sympathetic, but you turned it away. You knew what it felt to be looked at like a kicked puppy after people learned of your mother's passing. You were sure a man like Jessup wouldn't be very fond of pity.

"He looked a lot like you."

Your head went through whiplash due to the speed you turned to the boy. Your eyes were now the analyzing and questioning ones. You motioned for him to continue; to make sense of his statement.

"The boy who killed my family. He couldn't be any older than me, sixteenish. He had your eyes."

Your breath seemed to speed up as it dawned on you what he could be saying. That sweet little Otto was capable of murdering an entire family. Then again, what would he think of your actions in the war? Jessup took in your reaction as he cautiously continued.

"Don't think he don'it before. Kept looking back and forth between my pops and brother. Like he was begging them to change back time."

You were no longer looking at the talking boy, but it was clear you were hanging onto every word. Your eyes fluttered around as you tried to make sense of the new knowledge.

"He had reason if that makes you feel better. They were rebels and took out a good number of Capital forces. Just those two on their own."

He didn't hide his proud smile as he didn't even realize it appeared for a few moments. When he did, he was ready to see you storming off, glare knives into him, or plan ways to make him and his fellow tributes suffer. But you were just looking at him, a sad smile on your lips. You couldn't blame his smile. It was his family succeeding in their beliefs, no matter how it pained you. It wasn't as if you were sentenced to a bloodbath as your final moments.

The lack of aggression you presented allowed for Jessup to precede.

"They stood proudly as they were accused of their crimes. He gave them a chance, but they didn't say a peep. The boy with your eyes was shaky as he raised the gun. My momma couldn't hold back and ran into the gunfire. In just three seconds, my entire family erased. Glad they didn't shoot into the floor."

His face shifted from pride to bitterness to a hollowed smile.

"Always check the floorboards of twelve. Never know what you find."

You wanted to pipe up when you heard the disgruntled grunts of Brandy and the mocking laugh of Arachne. It had paused for the majority of your conversation with Jessup because Arachne was busy being interviewed by Lucky Flickerman. Though now she was back, her little game was resumed.

It burned your blood at seeing her cruel game. No one would ever describe Arachne as nice, but she would never stoop this low. Unless they were the district, apparently. You quickly muttered an apology to Jessup as you got up and walked unamusedly to the red-haired girl. Your hand swiftly snatched the glass bottle before it disappearedinto the bar to tease the starving girl again. Arachne looked up to the intruder, and a deep scowl appeared when she saw your face. Behind you, the sun was bright, as if casting a halo down on you. Oh, how fitting for little miss perfect, the sour girl thought.

You turned to Brandy and gave her a warm smile as you gently laid the bottle down next to her. Her eyes narrowed at your act and were glazed over in dehydration. The girl's hands were lightning as they snatched the drink and gulped it down as fast as was possible.

You left the tribute to her drink as you were met with the nasty stare of Arachne Crane.

"Feel proud of yourself for making her suffer even more? I mean, come on, Arachne!"

You huffed at her, irritated at her childlike behavior. Your back was turned as you began walking back to your own tribute when her voice sneered.

"Wonder what dear old Otto would think of you taking care of the same animals that chopped him up into tiny little—"

At the sound of your brother's name, you had turned back, and as she continued, so did your strides. But it was the sound of glass shattering that made you jump into action.

Physically jump as you pushed Arachne out of the way of the oncoming bottle. Brandy had a clear shot to the front of her mentor's throat but due to your speed and slightly turned position, it didn't hit her target. Instead, the broken bottle jammed itself within the side of your neck as your knees buckled on impact. You felt around the area as hot sticky blood poured all over your fingers.

Your hearing began getting muffled, but the gunshots were piercingly loud, as was the sound of your attacker's body hitting the ground. You saw red around you, unsure if it was one of your fellow students or even more blood.

Black dots began spotting your vision as you fought to keep them open upon the orders of someone. You weren't sure who, but whoever the saving angel was, they were doing everything to keep you conscious. No screams came out of your mouth, but warm salty streams across your cheeks, mixing in with the now pooling blood.

The lack of audible panic made your internal one settle slightly. Your mother surely screamed herself on the path of death as did your aunt Fiora. But then again, maybe your brother died without a squeak.

Your eyelids felt as if they were being welded shut against all your will power. You turned your head to the left, which was the side that hadn't been stabbed. The last thing you witnessed before you lost all reality was a head of pretty white hair with matching gorgeous blue orbs. His mouth kept on moving and forming words, but no sound pierced your ears.

You felt his hands around you, cradling your gushing neck. His hands looked as if permanently stained with red dye as he moved them around frantically. In such movements, his hands happened to fling your now apparent rings in front of your view. The two golden ones on the outside seemed mostly clear if the blood overtook her. That accursed silver of a thousand snowflakes glistened under the sunlight. As much as a ring being drowned in blood could.

Your eyes flickered from the bloody snowflakes up to the eyes of a bloodless Coriolanus Snow. A Coriolanus Snow who begged you to open up your eyes. Who attempted to will it into existence before he was pulled off by peacekeepers. Your body was hastily put on a stretcher and sent straight to the Capital hospital.

Not a single blink occurred from the blue frozen eyes of the Snow heir. How is it that it was only this morning when you were on the other side of the cage? Safer on that side.

Snow was on the verge of a breakdown. One of anger and of fear. He was only mere feet away. Only a few feet away and you still might lose your life because he wasn't careful. A promise was sworn internally within that calculated boy that day.

Never again will you be choking on your blood while he stood aside with nothing happening. You were not going to suffer the same bloody fate as your mother. You would not suffer. He swore the vow repeatedly as he rushed through the streets to meet your unconscious body. The world can take his money, parents, even the Plinth Prize. He would refuse to give it anymore.

He would not give up on you.

He would not give you up.

A/N: so sorry for it being so long! Not very carefully read I'm so sleepy I'm seeing things help. Pls lmk your thoughts. Much love !!

⋆✦⋆⋇⋆✦⋆⋇⋆✦⋆⋇⋆✦⋆⋇⋆✦⋆⋇⋆✦⋆⋇⋆✦⋆

@notyourwildestdream 🌹@darktrashsoulbear🌹@fantasylovestoryme 🌹@nekee-lilac02 🌹@a-avengerparker 🌹 @queenofshinigamis 🌹@darlingisntit 🌹

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spontaneousglitterbees · 1 year

Note

Legally required to ask for Kokichi for the ask game

[For this ask game]

gosh ur so right anon. I am so sorry this got readmore levels of out-of-hand full spoilers for NDRV3 and also rated C for Current Hyperfixation.

favorite thing about them

Counter-intuitive, but I know my past self (including the era when V3 came out) would have hated Kokichi for the same reasons I like him now. Mainly:

I really did go into V3 expecting to loathe Kokichi as a nuisance at best; I’d been spoiled on Ch. 4 before getting into DR because I thought ‘my aim sucks I won’t play it anyway’ and, loving bees and assorted bugs as I do, I figured Gonta would be my favorite. And I mean, he’s up there, but this little shit. How dare he be an engaging character.

Unsure where I said it previously, but Kokichi seems like the kind of guy who would run a How to Beat [X Movie] channel out of earnest (admit so or not) love for the thought experiment of it all, which isn’t just relatable, but a very interesting Type of Guy to have in your killing game scenario. The one constantly pushing the boundaries, but not quite meta-level aware they’re in a video game; genre-savvy and trying to Actually Accomplish Something Constructive. He also goes about it in such a way that launches a couple malatovs at every bridge he has, which, having been anxious and overly rejection-sensitive in high school, is fucking wild to me. You are going about this in the worst way you could, on purpose, and that is fascinating. Mentally I am putting him in a microscope slide because What Is Your Deal

Plus, the way he constantly has some kind of front up to a point where Saihara can’t decide who he really is by the end of Ch. 5… hmm chameleon complex? I find it quite simple, really. Unclear to me if they meant to make him Like This but doubling down on constant over-performance of social signals because communicating frustrates you and it lets you feel some small degree of control in your life is (in my experience at least) very autistic of him and as a result hearing the whole V3 cast consider him entirely indecipherable down to the bitter end… oof ouch real anxieties?

least favorite thing about them

A) Some of the iconography they chose for his talent. Which I’m pretty sure they pretty much ditched outside promos? So B) Some of his art in the wake of Ch. 4 is… wonky, but not in a way that looks fully deliberate? It undercuts the drama for me a bit. I think Kokichi seems much more menacing when he drops pretenses entirely and just goes blank instead of trying Very Hard to act out a particular emotion (like he does pretty much all the time). Instead of the demon face, something more like this?

favorite line

I blame this for getting "The more that you suffer, the more I enjoy it" stuck in my head, plus the combo of "Now you'll never, ever forget me for the rest of your life! [...] I stole your heart, so now I'm satisfied." The two surface Kokichis asdfghjkl

Looking for quotes though it came to my attention that in Chapter 2 he says "[...] I wanna win this killing game! So I'm not gonna run from it, I'm gonna crush it! That'll be waaaay less boring, don'tcha think?" kicking screaming they knew exactly what they were doing

shipping and handling

tbh I less ‘ship’ and more ‘please make them interact with one another’, so grains of salt I suppose!

brOTP

Kokichi + Miu. Gotta find who in the amalgamate server said ‘in any other circumstance they’d be besties’ because they are Correct.

OTP

This is a self report but like fuck it we ball Kokichi ♢/♠ Kaito

If you know the intricacies of what that means you may be entitled to—

Pretty much this vine

nOTP

I guess I'm a little squicked thinking of Kokichi/Gonta in a romantic sense? See at least in TAPP they've still got a Lot to talk about before comfortably calling one another 'friend' instead of 'working on it'

random headcanon

Ah a lot of these are already sprinkled in TAPP so what’s one y’all haven’t heard before,,

He started painting his nails during the game initially to interrogate (RE: get-to-know) Rantaro, and kept doing it to discourage himself from biting his nails and cuticles all the time. There's only like one sprite where he does it, but I think it could be a nervous tick

TAPP!DICE may not be real but the tea party policy absolutely is

I've drawn him in skirts doing outfit memes, but I think for him it's less concrete than feeling like dressing femme sometimes and more that, post-game and organization-less, he has no idea who he's supposed to be anymore and is throwing pretty much everything at the wall in many facets of his life. Including but not limited to saying 'screw uniforms' and seeing how long it takes him to get in trouble with HPA for wearing different clothes every day. After long enough unchallenged he starts getting his classmates to do it too. Considering... their entire circumstances in TAPP, they get away with a lot more than the other classes

unpopular opinion

Is it unpopular to say that some of the info from Kokichi’s FTEs should have been in the main plot? The knife game scene, besides being my favorite, seriously clues the player into what he’s like beyond the artifice without having to posthumously dump that exposition in his room, and that a lot of players confused by him are likely to miss out on characterization that would clarify things Irks Me.

song i associate with them

Oh, only one song? Too bad, 'cuz I Can’t Decide - Scissor Sisters

My other cop-out is 'Cause I’m a Liar - Mcki Robyns-P, which I’m working on a cover for in Synth V

Other than that? I haven’t built up nearly enough song-based associations with the DR cast yet somehow, but I’ll throw in Queen of Nothing - The Crane Wives which is less a Kokichi vibe than “I’m writing TAPP!Kokichi in the wake of Chapter 5” vibes. Isn’t this what you wanted? Time sure feels like it’s running out. Finish what you started, Queen of Nothing, wearing such a heavy crown.

I don’t know if this is in the spirit of the prompt but the thought did occur to me that a Trial 5 animatic to I’m Alive from Next to Normal would slap really really hard actually.

I need more peppy songs in my life, is what I’m gathering.

favorite picture of them

Let’s split it like this:

Favorite from the game? Probably this one

The face of a man asking “what are you gonna do, shoot me?” promptly before getting shot.

Sprite? This one

Is it genuine curiosity? Is he mocking me? Some mysterious third thing? Yes.

and a fanart that lives in my brain rent-free (the-everlasting-ash). Linking instead of reposting bc please support the original artist. There are many, many wonderful pieces of fanart out there, but this one carved a niche in my brain and stayed there (it is the cover image for DR art on my phone on account of Stunning).

Also for the uninitiated on TAPP- [Talent Acquisition Pilot Program AU Masterpost]

#answers #Anonymous #ask games #danganronpa #dr #new danganronpa v3 #ndrv3 #danganronpa v3 #drv3 #kokichi ouma #kokichi oma #took me so long bc i made a gif and a sprite edit #genuinely surprised I couldnt find that bit from randy writes a novel in gif form #so i made it myself (thats why the gif is amateurish OTL)#also first DR sprite edit i hope its okay #i kept the pose the same and just tried to change his face and reduce the shadow intensity #sometimes the most powerful menace is a lack of it #TAPP AU #TAPP AU adjacent

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liminalpebble · 10 months

Text

Eddie's Education: Chapter 10

Masterlist link

Minors DNI

Chapter 10

During their next shift at The Hideout, Eddie was behind the bar in a cheap nylon Dracula cape while Leia changed into her costume.

In a few minutes, she met him there wearing an authentic Catholic school uniform with splotches of fake blood over the knee-length paid kilt and the white button down.

“Whoa! That's a pretty detailed costume!”

She laughed as she studied the strategically placed blood stains. “Well it's not exactly a costume. It was my actual school uniform.”

“Wait wait wait...Vespero...do you mean to tell me that you were an honest-to-god Catholic school girl? Like...a sign of the cross, kneeling to pray, going to confession, Catholic school girl?”

“Yup! Kindergarten to high school graduation. My dad was cool and nerdy enough to name me Leia, but then he found the lord and got into this really oppressive religious phase. It was...a special kind of hell but I got a really good costume out of it.”

“Yeah it is! But that blood will never come out, you know.”

“Ah, that's okay. I had to wear this fucking thing every school day for 4 years. I was almost ready to burn it.”

“I can't imagine growing up like that,” Eddie said in awe, shaking his head. “It must have been so hard.”

She shrugged, “yeah, you could say that. I spent a lot of time being terrified of hell and trying to be very good...trying to be perfect. So obviously, now I'm just an atheist with trauma, but hey, on the bright side, at least sex will always feel filthy and sinful, right?” It was a joke she'd used many times to distract from the dreary subject, but she'd realized as soon as Eddie stared and stuttered with his mouth hanging open, that maybe that was the wrong joke to make.

She quickly followed it up with, “And you're not gonna fucking believe this, but we weren't allowed to celebrate Halloween or anything related to 'evil' things or the occult...a true Satanic panic situation. No trick or treating, no horror movies or devil costumes. So obviously, I'm obsessed with all of that now.”

“You've gotta be shitting me,” he said, genuinely shocked.

Chuckling, she said lightly, “I shit you not! But don't worry! I've made up for lost time since then. It's my favorite holiday...my favorite month.”

“You know,” Eddie said, considering the outfit with his arms crossed and head tilted. “It's not at all what porn and anime have led me to believe.”

Leia smacked him playfully, and chuckled. “Gross, Eddie. And no...there's nothing sexy about the real thing. Can you help me with the zombie part of this zombie school girl, though? The blood isn't enough, it has to look...you know...gray and corpse-y”.

As she opened the make up kit full of blue and gray hues to make her skin look lifeless, he was jolted into the horrible memory of Chrissy...sweet innocent Chrissy in her cheerleader uniform, cursed by Vecna as her eyes rolled back and skin sunk in, turning that same putrid gray. He saw the replay in his mind as clearly as the moment it happened; her little body pinned to ceiling like a bug in a collection, eyes hollow as a dead cicada. He could still hear the sickening sound of her bones breaking one by one as she turned lifeless and desiccated. Then she fell to the floor, a sightless tangled broken shell of the girl he had a crush on. He remembered how he ran. His heart ached with a deep disorienting nightmarish shame as he left her behind.

Leia noticed Eddie was beginning to shake and his skin was going white and clammy, his breath teetering on the brink of hyperventilation.

“Eddie?” Leia asked, placing a hand on his shoulder which made him flinch away from her for the first time in their friendship. She suddenly realized what was happening, having encountered the signs before from students who were war veterans.

“Hey, Eddie? Can you hear me?”

He nodded his head violently as his eyes welled up and his breath began to hitch.

“Just listen to my voice, okay? I'm right here. Take a deep breath with me.”

He followed her lead, listening and watching her inhales and exhales to match them, while he sank to the floor and she knelt next to him.

“Good. You're doing so well. Now, can you feel your rings on your fingers.”

“Uh..y...y...yeah.”

“How many rings are you wearing on your right hand.”

“Three,” he answered, running his thumb along them.

“How do they feel?”

“C...c...cold. Smooth...” he answered, breath beginning to still and eyes focusing back on her instead on his memory. A spark of life finally emerged from behind the blackout curtain of his unsettling, distant, gaze.

“Hey,” she said softly, “Sorry, I touched you. I forgot it's not great to do that when somebody is...you know...having...”

“No no no. It's okay! I'm so sorry, Leia. I didn't mean to scare you.”

She said in a soothing tone, “Don't worry about that. I just want to make sure you're okay. Here. Drink some water, try to breathe.”

He sipped and cycled as much air as possible through his lungs for a few minutes, while she took the make up away. She packed it up tightly and buried it out of sight, realizing something about it must have been the trigger. What happened to this poor man? I wish he would tell me. I wish I could hold him.

He was looking a lot better by the time she came back as he smiled and asked, “Hey..um...is it okay if we don't make a...a uh...dead school girl costume?”

“Sure...sure, Eddie. I'm so so sorry. I didn't realize.”

He reached out his hand to her from where he was sitting against the wall and she took it gladly. His big brown eyes staring up at her punctured her heart with longing, like a hot needle.

“No! Don't apologize, please. Most of the time even I don't know what's gonna hit me.”

He lifted himself up, wobbling slightly, as she looped her arm around his lanky waist. She felt a little guilty, realizing how happy she was for an excuse to touch him there, feeling the smooth hard curve of his torso against her palm. Once he was steady again, she reluctantly let him go to stand on his own.

He took a deep breath and met her eyes saying, “Thank you for bringing me back.”

She nodded. “Anytime.”

He looked around, desperate for a distraction from the odd moment, and saw a little pot of fake blood sitting on the bar. “Oh hey,” he said, “come here. I have an idea.”

Her dark brows knit together curiously as she came closer. He took two fingers and dipped the tips in the little pot. A giddy little shiver danced through her as his hand wove into her hair, gently coaxing her head to the side, revealing her neck. He stamped two red dots over the line of her jugular vein and dragged down to create the illusion of a bite.

Eddie smiled, his hand still cradling her head. As he met her gaze he said, “Thanks for rescuing me, Princess Leia. I know it's a little backwards, but I did just give you eternal life. I hope that's fair. You don't mind drinking people to death periodically, right?”

“No, Leia rescues Han, remember?”

He slowly slid his hand away, but his eyes still locked with hers in honey-sweet admiration. “Touche. I know when I'm bested. May the force be with you, Princess.”

“And also with you,” she quipped, giving herself the sign of the cross, and throwing Eddie into a hysterical laughing fit.

----

It was a slow night, as weeknights so often were, but Dale, Leia, and Eddie were all grateful for the calm before the storm of the Halloween Extravaganza coming up that weekend.

“So,” Eddie asked as they stocked the fridge together. “Are you all ready for the big party? What's your costume gonna be?”

“It's a surprise,” she said coyly, winking.

He raised his eyebrows. “Well then...mine will be too. Let's just hope we don't end up wearing the same thing. Actually, can I borrow that uniform? You'd never know it but I have great legs.”

She laughed, but thought, and I would love to see them. Preferably, from between them. He loved the sound of her laugh, loved seeing her smile, loved that there was more and more of both whenever she worked here with him. He was finally willing to concede that maybe, just maybe, it was because of him. That he, The Freak...The Banished, was a blessing for this sweet smart lost woman. He promised himself, right then, that he would take care of her, no matter what. She was worth not running away scared.

The door swung open as a customer came in and strolled up to the bar.

Eddie turned to face him, hands propped on the counter, “Hey man, what can I get you?”

“Hey, can I get a...Leia? Hah...Leia, what the hell are you doing working here, and in that costume?” he said, dripping with smarmy chagrin.

Eddie watched as Leia turned to the customer, face blanching and panic written over her big dark eyes. He'd never seen her look so scared. It was bone deep terror, like a little girl in the middle of a nightmare. Leia felt for a moment, that it was a waking nightmare, that it couldn't be real.

“Sam?” she gasped in disbelief, “What are you doing here? In Hawkins?”

“Oh, just coming back to visit my folks,” he looked her up and down chuckling, “My my, how the mighty have fallen.”

Her expression turned icy, shooting daggers from her onyx eyes. “What do you want, Sam?”

“Well,” he shrugged, combing through his mop of ginger hair pensively and nudging his black plastic frames back up to the bridge of his nose. “I just came here for a beer, but as usual, all the selections are total piss, so I'll pass. But, you know, Molly is still stuck in Chicago working and I'll be here a few days. I can come by and you can give me head for old time's sake later. That'd be a good start.”

Eddie leaned closer over the bar getting up in Sam's face. “What the fuck did you just say to her, you rude prick?”

“Fuck off, Sam!” She yelled, uncharacteristically raising her voice. Dale heard and began moving closer to the bar, keeping an eye on the scene.

Sam laughed and his sharp cruel green eyes bored through her...eyes that she used to find so entrancing and lovely. “Oh, so this is who you're fucking now?” He pointed a long, pale finger to Eddie then turned to face him, “You're in luck, buddy. She was a virgin when I got her...so...you know...barely used, but doesn't exactly know the ropes so well.”

Eddie, was around the bar in an instant, cracking an empty bottle on the bar and holding the jagged edge to Sam's throat where he had him gripped by the collar.

Dale, shouted, “Eddie!” and ran over. “Eddie...relax okay.”

Sam added, “Yeah, call off your guard dog, will you?” to which Eddie just tightened his grip on his collar.

Dale sighed, saying, “I wouldn't make this situation worse if I were you, fella. I suggest you fuck off before Eddie...or I...have to do something regrettable”.

Sam squinted. “Are you threatening me? I could press charges, on both of you.”

Dale retorted, “And I could do the same for harassing my employee. Now I suggest you get the fuck out and never come in here again.”

Eddie let go of his collar, and Sam flipped his hair out of his eyes, smoothed out his shirt. His pale skin was now fire-engine red as he stormed out the door. As it slammed, Leia flinched, still silent and trembling.

Dale turned to Eddie, saying quietly with a hand on his shoulder, “Hey, why don't drive Leia home and I'll watch the bar, okay. I can take the rest of the night, it's a slow one anyway.”

Leia finally snapped out of it and piped up. “Dale, I'm fine.”

“You're not!” both men turned and said to her simultaneously.

Dale sighed, “Darlin', for my sake, I'd feel better if you let Eddie drive you home.”

She took a deep breath, nodded, and slung her bag over her shoulder, still incandescent with embarrassment. As she followed Eddie out the door she turned to the 6 assorted weeknight drunks and said weakly, “Sorry, everyone.”

Andy, the old timer from her classes at the community college, waved if off and raised his bottle with a nod, slurring out, “Don't worry about it. Get home safe, Miss Vespero.”

Despite the situation, or maybe because of the absurdity of it, Leia chuckled as she said, “ Good night, Andy,” and Eddie led her to his van with a protective arm around her.

As soon as the door shut and they were alone in the cocoon of the car, she threw her arms around Eddie and began to sob as he hugged her close and stroked her hair.

“Hey,” he soothed, “I'm here. It's okay. You're safe.”

@sunflowerdaydreamer

#eddie munson x ofc #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson #strangers things fanfic #stranger things

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batmanisagatewaydrug · 2 years

Text

reading update

friends, I have no time for bullshit. this is gonna be a long one, I have a tremendous TBR pile waiting for me, and we need to just jump right in. remember how last month I said I was going to get back into comics in a big way? I've made good on my threat.

without further ado, here's what I've been reading:

Fearing the Black Body: The Racial Origins of Fat Phobia (Sabrina Strings, 2019) - maybe one of my favorite nonfiction books I've read so far this year. shockingly comprehensive despite the sheer breadth of time it tackles; it's genuinely a bit dizzying to see antiblackness and fatphobia traced so succinctly across centuries and straight into the 21st century. prepare to spit nails learning about all the ways that the English have invented the most heinous bullshit you've ever heard to justify why they're just naturally biologically better than Black people, Asians, Natives, Italians, Eastern Europeans, Jews, and the Irish. tremendous breakdown of race-making and how deeply, truly insidious so many ideas about bodies are.

Dead Collections (Isaac Fellman, 2022) - a quirky little oddball of a novel about a trans vampire working in an archive and a recently widowed fanfic writer who have a totally typical meet cute - obviously the best way to get back out there is to hook up with the archivist handling your dead wife's screenplays and letters, right? Dead Collections follows Our Protagonist, the aforementioned vampire Sol, as he struggles with pretty much everything; if you're a fan of the Guy Having An Elaborate Internal Monologue While Having A Pretty Bad Time genre, this one may be for you. I was a little underwhelmed by Dead Collections, but it's got a sharp and interesting take on vampires + a queer sexy little romance that's worth the while.

Siren Queen (Nghi Vo, 2022) - listen: I am a Nghi Vo stan first and a person second. she can do no wrong. Siren Queen was, to my understanding, actually the first novel Vo wrote even though it's hardly the first book she's published, and while I think it shows a bit of first novel overambition, Siren Queen is still dazzling in its atmosphere and creepy factor. Vo brilliantly blends fey mythos with the early days of Hollywood - changelings roam the movie lots, actors' true names are bartered and sold, and studio heads are inhuman monsters who treat their stars like playthings. one of my favorite details was an older actor being described as having the color actually bleached out of them, turning them literally black and white, from back in the day when cameras were hungrier. spooky! and a brilliant concept, which Vo plays with in all kinds of thrilling ways as her protagonist, Chinese-American lesbian Luli, fights to make a name for herself without having to compromise any part of who she is.

Real Hero Shit (Kendra Wells, 2022) - a real fun D&D-esque comic about a ditzy and horny tiefling prince running off with a party of hardened adventurers. absolutely worth the twelve bucks I spent to scoop it up at Pride! my only complaint is that we got to see some lovingly drawn tits but absolutely zero purple cock and/or balls, which just feels wildly unfair. it's about equality, Kendra.

The Metamorphosis (Franz Kafka, 1915, trans. William Aaltonen) - hey gang, at risk of sounding like a dumbass, I did not know what actually happens in The Metamorphosis. my knowledge began and ended with Gregor Samsa waking up as a bug and going "ah heck how am I gonna get to work?" and I was like cool commentary on capitalism bro, I get it. but did I? because I had no idea that Gregor then proceeds to spend the rest of his life scuttling pathetically around his room while his family feeds him garbage and ignores him. I assumed he would put on a bug tie and go to work or something and the commentary would be about the absurdism of being expected to sit at your desk doing paperwork despite being a fucking giant insect. but instead it's about, like, taking on a form that's alien and inconvenient to your family and becoming an isolated and reviled burden through absolutely no fault of your own because something about your body has become disruptive to the familial peace. and then he just fucking DIES because he gives up on life and the family's RELIEVED and get on with their business thinking about how great it is that they can move now and how lucky they are to still have a daughter with a beautiful normal body. frankly really chilling stuff, Franz.

Batman and Robin Eternal, Vol. 1 (James Tynion IV and Scott Snyder) - first off in the name of proper credit, I'm extremely aware that Tynion and Snyder are NOT the only people who worked on this by a country mile. unfortunately, there are so many issues jammed into this trade paperback that I'd be here all day if I were to list every individual writer and artist; for my sanity, I'm defaulting credit to the names listed on the front cover even though I know that's technically wrong. anyway, having said that: I remember liking Batman and Robin Eternal pretty well when I started it a few years ago, but sweet lord it has not held up for me very well at all. the story is fine, it's your standard global espionage Bat-shenanigans and every sidekick from Dick to Duke puts in at least a cameo, but god. christ. it's just... it's so New 52. according to my own math, the Batfamily timeline proposed by this book seems to suggest that Bruce has inducted a new Robin every 18 months for YEARS, and Dick somehow can't be any older than 24 at most. it's messy out here, kids. on the plus side: if you like Harper Row and you're gonna get a lot of Harper Row, and she and Cass are definitely dating.

100 Boyfriends (Brontez Purnell) - god, WHAT a collection of stories. Purnell has put together a roller coaster of messy gay experiences - drugs, sex work, infidelity, sex addiction, cruising, etc - and tied them up in poignancy and humor. there's a man having sex with his co-worker's husband, an actor who's washed up after his days starring in a campy gay sitcom, a musician touring Europe in a whirlwind of hookups and drugs and cancelled plans. each story is whip sharp and crazy fast, hardly ever lingering more than a few pages, but they leave unforgettable impressions.

The Sandman: Preludes and Nocturnes (Neil Gaiman, 1988) - so my mom is moving and consequently shipping me boxes full of my shit that she doesn't want to be responsible for anymore, including all the Sandman trade paperbacks that I almost bankrupted myself buying the first summer that I had a job. for me The Sandman very much falls under "things that everyone says are good and are, frustratingly, actually good" - and yes, that extends to Preludes & Nocturnes even though we all know it's the weakest part of the series! I know it's absolutely going to get better from here once Neilman starts abandoning the larger DC universe doing his own thing, and I'm looking forward to that, but for now it is kind of charming to watch him bend over backwards to get characters Martian Manhunter and the Scarecrow involved.

The Vegetarian (Han Kang, 2016, trans. Deborah Smith) - I checked this book out at the same time as The Metamorphosis because 1.) it was also short and 2.) the jacket described it as "Kafka-esque," and I can be persuaded to do almost anything by a sufficiently amount of serendipity. it's certainly also EXTREMELY UNSETTLING! the tl;dr is that a Korean woman decides to give up eating meat after having some sort of fucked up dream, only for her husband and family to lose their fucking minds. to her husband she's an embarrassment; to her brother-in-law, an object of sexual obsession; to her sister, an inconvenient obligation. I can definitely see thematic parallels to the Metamorphosis in terms of that looming question of whether your family will still love and care for you if you become someone they no longer recognize, but there's a major difference in the fact that all the narration comes from other perspectives. we have no idea what's happening in the titular vegetarian's head as she seems to grow more and more distant and passive, nor what she feels about the ways she's being (mis)treated. great book, hurt my head.

Batman: Year One (Frank Miller and David Mazzicchello, 1986) - straight up? excellent. delicious. NO notes. Gotham (the tv show) desperately wants what Year One has but is too cowardly to actually let Gordon run Flass off the road, beat him senseless, and leave him handcuffed butt naked in the woods in the middle of winter. grow up!!

Batman and Robin Eternal Volume 2 (James Tynion IV and Scott Snyder, 2016) - pretty much the same as Volume 1 but dumber and more chaotic; a story about the Batkids teaming up to take down a human trafficking ring that even Batman couldn't bust turns into just. a whole convoluted take over the world scheme that we can't call the Justice League for help with, For Some Reason. and yet. and yet. I am not immune to the scene in which Damian chews out his brothers for thinking they're failures for not being Batman clones and reminds them all that Bruce not only knows they aren't like him, but it proud of and grateful for it. or the reveal that Bruce has spent years trying to do right by Harper to give her as much control as possible over her own life. or the ending when he takes Cassandra on after getting his memory back (Bruce was an amnesiac for this entire story, I don't know why or care. comics are like that). I have feelings about daddy!Bats your honor.

Batman: King Tut's Tomb (Nunzio DeFillippis, Christina Weir, José Luis García-López, and Kevin Nowlan, 2009) - gamers, I'm not gonna lie: this is probably one of my favorite things I'm going to read this year. King Tut's Tomb collects issues #26-28 of Batman Confidential and employs possibly my favorite kind of Batman storyline: there's some weird-ass murders happening in Gotham again, and now Batman has to do something about it. in this case he teams up with the Riddler, because the insane white man doing brownface and calling himself King Tut while he kills people is also spewing riddles during his homicides, which is thematically a bit confusing and also pisses the Riddler right off. after Batman declines his first offer to help Eddie shimmies himself right out of Arkham anyway and proceeds to spend a full day cheerfully calling Bruce "partner," being rude to cops (based), and being right about pretty much everything. I really enjoy the way DeFillippis and Weir write the Riddler, employing sort of a "used car salesman" energy that really straddles the line between charming and insufferable, and Bruce makes a phenomenal straight man for him to play off. I would have read another 20 issues of this happily, but I respect a story that doesn't overstay its welcome.

#bookblr #reading updates

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scary-senpai · 2 years

Note

loved your atomic samurai romantic headcanons, was wondering if you had anymore? :)

Ahhh splendid & kindly anon, thank you for this note! I’m sorry it took me some time to get back to you. My latest writing project has been eating up an exorbitant amount of brain space. So, please take this Bugs Bunny as a token of apology:

(I don't think I've ever not answered an ask, but it sometimes takes me a week or two. I try to stay on top of things to the extent that I can, but I'm kind of a perfectionist so I'd rather take extra time and answer well than risk responding with my Chaos Brain....) Anyway, this was a joy to think about! Thank you <3 I must confess that Kenjiro Tsuda is one of my favorite voice actors, and I tend to combine headcanons for Nanami and AS because… ah, that voice, I can’t help myself! I mean, um, they have similar through-lines: capable men with rough exteriors and an obvious soft spot.

Also, I must confess, being ace my romantic headcanons look a little difference than most people , and of all the headcanons included with the S-Class ask, AS was perhaps the most risqué. And, funny thing, the two lines I meant to edit out somehow made it into the final draft even though they were a little out of character for me. I think I went back and slipped that confession into the tags:

Oh well… if they brought you joy, then it’s worth it! Anyway, I got a little help from my Senpai and he got way more into it than I would have expected a straight dude to get (good for him!) I think this speaks to AS’s irrepressible panache.

Morning cuddles… stubble… that voice, deep and raspy with sleep… warm, sturdy arms around you... I would probably never get out of bed.

He smells good. Really good. Like, manly but sophisticated. An enchanting mix of smoke and sandalwood, with the undertone of something delicately floral… anyway. He insists he doesn’t do anything special but it’s obviously expensive cologne. Probably custom made.

He doesn’t wine-and-dine you, because he’s really into artisanal spirits. I want to say gin (because it’s clean and cutting) but I could also see something smokier like whisky or mezcal, something earthy but refined in its own way.

He’s got a goofy side. He loves to make terrible puns (usually dirty ones) and everyone just… lets him get away with it? Because he’s got such a good poker face, most people just write it off as a Freudian slip. I’ve actually drafted a scene where he manages to de-rail an S-Class meeting this way.

Has a bad habit of heckling comedians and tour guides; usually gets away with it. I wrote one scene where Mumen Rider tries standup and AS pointedly tells him “Don’t quit your day job.”

Weirdly good with kids! Always ends up “accidentally” babysitting for friends and neighbors, and allegedly has no idea how this came about. He’s definitely the cool uncle, but (let’s be real) he’s a little intimidating, and it’s not hard for him to keep the little tykes in line. If he says “Those crayons had better be out of your nose by the time I count to five,” the problem is solved before the countdown even begins.

He’s not a “seasoned” cook (no pun intended), but he’s got two or three simple, signature dishes that he does really well. They are, coincidentally, kid friendly. One of these “house specials” probably happens to be pizza bagels.

Speaking of father figures… His disciples are forever showing up for impromptu movie nights, monopoly tournaments, or just to talk. Sometimes it feels like you've stumbled into your own sitcom.

Deep down, he doubts his paternal abilities even though all evidence suggests otherwise. He’s probably got some unresolved issues in that sense, but good luck getting that out of him. But that in itself speaks volumes; you’ve never met his biological family.

There’s likely some commitment issues too—if not from leftover emotional baggage, but from his unspoken understanding that being a hero comes with inherent risks, and he’s not afraid to give everything he has while in the line of duty, up to (and including) his life. He’s no Sekinger—you’re not going to find any middle ground with him on this. (This is where John and I got a little silly.)

Does his best to remember table manners, but always forgets which utensils to use. You keep telling him it’s always smallest to largest, left to right, but he really distrusts teaspoons for some reason. Or maybe he is well aware of conventional etiquette, he just likes the face you make when he reaches for the biggest fork because size matters that must be the most important one.

#one punch man #opm #asks #splendiferous mutuals #atomic samurai #romantic headcanons #my writing #john-senpai if you're reading this I'm proud of you <3 #and i even mentioned you by name this time so even if you forget this conversation happened you won't accidentally get jealous of yourself!

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thefandomcassandra · 11 months

Text

Hollow Knight Resurrected (2/?): Taking the Greenpath

A small amnesiac bug finds themselves in the fallen kingdom of Hallownest, following a calling he doesn’t understand.

(A novelization of the YouTube Series Hollow Knight Resurrected by GraveyardMedia)

The Murderer was still hunting for the bug in the red poncho. However, he had taken a break to try and gather intel. "Good evening gentlemen. Have either of you seen a girl with a red cape?"

"No I haven't!"

"Yes you have! She went that way!"

"Actually, no she went the other, opposite way from what you said."

This would have been more interesting or even useful if he wasn't talking to himself by pretending two corpses he found were actually people and capable of helping him. As it was, it was just sad.

"...Maybe I should just actually talk to real people." Yeah...It was a pretty bad look, talking to people who he didn't even kill. It's not as if ghosts were real. If they were, it would make talking to corpses viable. Ah well...the best he could hope for would be to find some other living bug in Greenpath and ask them if they'd seen the girl in the red poncho.

----

In spite of how their last conversation had ended, the Murderer was genuinely grateful to see Cornifer. Here was another living bug he could talk to! And he sold maps, which was so so useful considering Greenpath was somehow worse than the Crossroads. "Hi—"

"Well apologizing didn't work, obviously, coz what can I do about the problem?" Oh. Oh no. Cornifer and Iselda were still having issues. Oh, this was suddenly somehow worse than listening to some bug he didn't know complain about how his wife didn't like staying at home. He knew both of them now, had talked to them. He had opinions and preferences. Fuck. "Hallownest is the premium un-mapped spot. If there's a place we can make money, it's here; but she hates it here! Good going. Great advice, it really helped! All my problems are solved!" Cornifer threw up his hands in frustration.

It was taking every social bone the Murderer had to not run back the way he'd come and bury himself in leaves like the bugs around here. "Oh...I'm sorry..."

"So what do I do now?"

"Uhh," he was the worst person to ask for marital advice, "give her a raise?"

"We're married. We both get all of the money." Point proven.

"Oh yeah...would buying a map help?" That would give them money and money is always good.

"Ehh...they say money can't buy happiness, but it can bribe off unhappiness, so yeah. I think it might help a little." Cornifer shrugged.

Hell yeah. Finally acing these social situations. "Ok. I was gonna do that anyway, but here you go!" A hefty eighty geo, but most of that was from when he murdered the rich mama drifter.

"Thanks." Cornifer took the cash and handed the Murderer a map of Greenpath. Unfurling it a little, he could already tell it would help immensely with his navigation woes.

"Oh, before I forget: have you seen a girl in a red poncho flying around? Talks to herself?" He made a gesture with his claws in the shape of her mask, the way her horns curved back.

"No. Wait, actually, yeah." Okay, now Cornifer was his favorite of the two weevils. "I think they threw something at me, like caltrops?" Oh damn. Sounded exciting!

"So you didn't get a good look at em?"

"Buddy, if your first instincts when someone throws caltrops at you isn't to haul ass? You're not gonna last very long down here." Cornifer sounded put-off by the Murderer's suggestion but, really, most things down here either wanted him dead on principle or were mindless beasts. Someone hucking caltrops at his head was at least an exciting attempt at his life!

Regardless... "Fair enough. I am gonna do the opposite of that, though." Might as well set his expectations so Cornifer didn't think he was sensible or anything like that. He was a murderer! They weren't sensible at all.

"Suit yourself kid. Good luck though." Cornifer got back to his work and the Murderer turned heel and went to try and find the girl in red.

Read the Rest on AO3

#hollow knight #hk #hollow knight resurrected #hkr #the sheepy writes fic #chapter two got hammered out so fast #ofc i will be reblogging this at a reasonable hour #for seo purposes #but as it is i think now is fine enough lmao #idk if you can tell but i love how charlie talks to himself #its endearing

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raposarealm · 1 year

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Hmm, a random question to ask... What are some game series you like besides Mega Man games? Those are awesome, of course, but I don't remember if I ever asked you about other games.

(Oh, small edit: I’m serious on the “feel free to send in asks and bug me” bit, I’m not in school this semester and I’m. Very lonely.)

Well, Magia Record, but you knew that already.

I'm fond of the Project Diva games! I like rhythm games, even if I'm not practiced yet, and I'm a long-standing Vocaloid fan. I recently managed to get ahold of the Mega39's/MegaMix (no relation, sadly,) and it's been neat as well! Though I'm not forgiving them for replacing Sennen no Dousokuka with Snowman, god damnit.

Before I went AWOL from tumblr there for a while (late 2017 to early 2020, yeesh,) I posted a lot about The Stanley Parable as well, even though I couldn't play it since I didn't have a way to purchase it. Well, with the Ultra Deluxe release, I've been able to actually play it now! Except my mental state's been so unstable as of late that I've had to kinda shy away from it for a little bit. Actually, I've kinda had to shy away from a lot of games in general, partly due to just lack of energy from depression kicking my petunia, and partly because I can't get to some of the systems to set them up, because said lack of energy has caused me to not be able to clear up my room enough to do anything, much less play games. It's really annoying and I wish it'd stop.

Speaking of games I can't get to the system to play, I've had a copy of Mirror's Edge for a long time now, and I'm very fond of it, but... I've never actually gotten past the Edge and Flight part, the first real mission in the game... Well, I might have once, but it's. I'm not good at it. Also somehow I ended up with a Japanese copy, despite the game having been developed in the West? I don't know how that happened, but ah well. We have an Xbox One somewhere that got packed up in the move, and we've never been able to set it up. If I could actually find it at some point, I'd like to play the sequel Catalyst at some point. Also the series has a really, really damn good soundtrack, I beg of y'all please go listen to it.

And I think I've mentioned it somewhere before on this blog, maybe? But for a very long time, my favorite games were the Drawn to Life series, actually. In fact, my penname that I've used since the very beginning was named for the fox-like "Raposa" species in the game's world. Surprise, I don't speak Portuguese, just a little bit of Spanish. And what demoted the series from my favorite, you ask? Summer 2017 when my friend gave me a copy... of Starforce 1. Aye.

Oh, and until I lost them in the move, I was very fond of some of the Professor Layton games, but I never knew which games were in which order, so I kept getting confused, and I was too afraid of spoilers to look up the release order, because a) it's mostly a mystery series, and b) I've made the mistake before of looking up something like release dates or whatever on wikis and/or just Wikipedia and finding out a really major spoiler. Exhibit A: the Wikipedia article on Exe and me back in 2017 having only read the manga. God damnit.

There's probably lots more series I'd like if I could get into them, but I tend to shy away from new series and/or franchises unless someone drags me into them. Most of the games I've played have been one-off self-contained games that I saw mentioned somewhere and went "oh, that looks neat," or I ended up with a copy of one of the entries when I was really young and didn't fully grasp the idea of game series and playing in order (for instance, I got into Drawn to Life because my mother gave me a copy of The Next Chapter, the second game of the two, for Christmas back in 2009, since she saw the "drawn" in the title and went, "Oh, Rapo likes to draw!"; and back around the same time, I somehow ended up with a copy of the third Professor Layton game, "Unwound Future", and again, didn't know it was a later entry until Flora showed up and I had a "who dis" moment. Fun times.) The only exceptions really being Magireco, which I wanted to play from its launch, but didn't know it was technically free-to-play until the anime aired, and I finally checked it out; and of course, Rockman, which was the fault of my friend convincing me to watch the Starforce anime (and also lent me his copies of the Exe manga,) and it was all downhill from there. I regularly give him hell over this, by the way.

#OK THIS WAS LONG SORRY #i know i'm associated with magireco by a number of folks but i don't know how much i'm associated with rockman #i mean. i think given how little activity there is in the starforce tag my posts actually take up a fair bit of the more recent entries #which means i gotta up my numbers ya know?#crystalmemoria #rapo answers #i don't really know that i should tag this with any of the series uh #correct me if i'm wrong #now back to the hellish museum fight 45 and that damned leila #STOP DRAINING MY MP WOMAN-#OH I NEVER MENTIONED KINGDOM OF LOATHING #but i mean i haven't logged in since 2020's Crimbo and. uh.#i should do that.#anyways if any of y'all play that. i go by koigunka in game come say hi i might see it

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silkscream · 2 years

Text

SWEETEST KILL | PART TWO: VERDICT

pairing: peter parker x silk!reader

warnings: mentions of sex, angst, tony stark

wc: 3k

summary: an unexpected invitation to stark industries makes you question everything.

a/n: not my favorite. it feels like filler but i suppose it’s important for context n plot development. also, i love writing a sarcastic reader. also, did i only just post part one yesterday??? yes. it’s called These Have Been Sitting In My Drafts And I'm Bored As All Hell

↳ series masterlist / main masterlist / taglist

↳ part one: delirium / part three: kismet

“So, what, you think she crawled her way here from a different Earth?”

“No, she’s… definitely real. I’ve gone to school with her this whole time. She was bitten by the same spider as me!”

Tony Stark furrows his brows, partly from disbelief, partly from the fact that Peter’s eyes are bugged out and his appetite is curiously insatiable, considering the boy keeps taking more and more of the man’s fries. Tony swats him away.

“Hey, I said a couple,” he scolds.

“‘mmsorry,” a muffled Peter mutters, fries in his mouth. Tony rolls his eyes.

“Is she a threat?”

“Um, I don't think so… we kind of…” Peter trails off, looking away from his mentor. He fixates on the lucky cat in the window waving its paw at him tauntingly. Tony doesn’t understand Peter’s affinity for these combination bodega/Chinese takeout/diner places, but the kid was frantic and was most definitely not in the mood for a place that served Chardonnay, much to Tony’s dismay.

“You what?” Tony asks impatiently.

“Like… my senses were on overload, I’ve never felt like that before…” The boy stammers as his cheeks grow red.

“Oh,” Tony nods, blinking at Peter with indifference. “You use protection?”

“No, we didn’t get that far!” Peter exclaims, covering his face with his hands in self-consciousness. “I.. just… it felt so weird. Like I couldn’t control myself. I couldn’t get why.”

“Well, kid, if she was bitten by the same spider as you, you probably both have the biological urge to mate. Didn’t school ever teach you about pheromones?”

A raised eyebrow bluntly contrasts Peter’s worried gaze.

“I thought that was just for animals, not humans,” he shrugs.

“Okay, well, you’ve got yourself a little spider-girlfriend. What exactly did you want me to do about this? Give you a little run-down on sex education?” Tony nods at the disgruntled middle-aged woman at the front, waving her over for the check. He takes a sip of his Diet Coke and looks pointedly at Peter. “What, does she not know who you are yet?”

“No, I thought it’d be a bad idea to tell her. Should I? I feel like… this is big, Mr. Stark. Like, what if she’s secretly a villain, or if she’s not, then I feel like she needs guidance, you know? Maybe she should train with us?” Peter’s eyes are pleading.

“Well, kid, we’re not the damn government. We can’t have a profile on every person that has sticky hands like you. But fine. You know her name?”

Peter nods.

___

“Congratulations, Miss Y/L/N, you’ve been anonymously referred by an academic advisor to participate in an exclusive workshop at Stark Industries!”

“What?” You nearly spit, squinting at the guidance counselor in front of you. You were sure Betty had given a tip to Mrs. Cooper about skipping class or your last chemistry test or your general emotional malaise. You were expecting a lecture on mental health, not this.

“You should be proud of yourself! Many people who participate in student activities under Mr. Stark end up becoming interns and employees! This will look ah-mazing on your resume!”

Mrs. Cooper was the human equivalent of what you would imagine a middle-aged, female Spongebob to be like. You didn’t hate her, but you hated her chipper attitude and the way she constantly piped about academia like the world was fresh daisies. Not to mention, she never gets your name correctly even though she's been your assigned counselor since freshman year.

“Right… um, thanks,” you mumble, taking the paperwork from her as the bell rang. You’re relieved as you walk out her door — any longer in that room and you feel like you would’ve imploded. Or she would’ve turned you into an inanimate object with bippity, boppity, boop.

You already know whose eyes are surging through your body. Peter Parker stares at you from your locker and it takes about half a millisecond to stare back at his sharp jaw and the pinkish flesh of his thin lips. A tiny cut on the corner of his bottom lip ordains something that makes you breathless. You want to lick it.

He looks at you like he has something to tell you but ultimately looks the other way. Before you even realize your compulsion to walk towards him, Betty Brant links her arm with yours and greets you. You’re still glancing at Peter, half-listening as she babbles about her date with Ned.

“And he got me daisies! Isn’t that just the most romantic thing in the world? I didn’t even tell him they were my favorite,” the blonde gushes.

“Yes, you did. We were sitting together at lunch last week and you were loudly ranting about how no one’s ever gotten you flowers before,” you remind her, bluntly. She rolls her eyes.

“Okay, but it’s the fact that he listened!”

“I love Ned, but that is quite literally the bare minimum.”

Betty makes a face, scrunching it up like she’s tasted a lemon for too long.

“You’re just grouchy,” she teases you. “Maybe you need to go on a date. Peter Parker’s been staring at you this whole time, you know.”

The sound of his name makes your heart leap.

“Shut up.”

“Oh, he totally is into you! I just saw him lick his lips!”

“Betty, if you keep talking about him, I am going to hurl your pretty ass into a locker,” you shush your friend when her voice squeals like nails on a chalkboard. You and Betty contrast one another comically — you in your entirely black outfit and her in a Vineyard Vines cerulean sweater.

“Ruuuude,” she whines.

You roll your eyes again, shuddering from the weight of Peter's gaze and the fluorescent lighting that bathes you in the wide hallway. You blink back at Betty’s heart-shaped head as she purses her lightly glossed lips, eyes bright and wide like a squirrel’s.

“So why did Mrs. Cooper wanna see you? Did you get into a fight again?” It’s funny, the crease on the blonde’s forehead. She looks like a real-life Barbie doll.

You scoff. “No, I just… got some academic thing. At Stark Industries.”

“Like Iron-Man Tony Stark?” she squeals again.

“Yes, that one,” you hiss, pulling her towards the classroom before she can get any louder. Peter watches you carefully from the back of the room.

The blonde mouths oh my god and you flash her a fake smile in an attempt to mirror her delight.

“Hello, do you have an appointment?” the redhead at the front desk asks you. Her red lipstick is the color of blood, matching the color of her suit. Her sharp green eyes look you up and down.

“Um, kind of. I’m here to see Mr. Stark for the workshop,” you explain.

Tick, tick, tick. The clock seems like the loudest thing in the room. You wonder if the secretary hears you at all, but just as you’re about to repeat yourself, she cuts you off.

“Name?” She doesn’t look up from her computer. You tell her.

“You can take the elevator down the hall to your left. Twenty-third floor.”

“Thank you,” you mumble softly.

You hate the fact that you’re here. You didn’t love the grandiose, exaggerated luxury of this skyscraper knowing that its glory was sensationalized by a pro-capitalist industrialist. You don’t care about military technologies and weaponry. In fact, you despise it. But you weren’t stupid. Any ticket to a good university was worth it, admittedly.

The doors open to a room with sleek, modern furniture, black tiled ceilings, and floors illuminated by studio lighting. Uncomfortably, you take a seat on one of the red couches. It was impressive, the decor, but it still felt clinical and cold to you. Especially considering you were alone.

Your ears perk up to the sound of a door opening and footsteps echoing on the tiles. Around the corner, a pair of luminous brown eyes meet yours.

“Peter.” It’s not a question, more of an observation. “What are you doing here?”

“I’m, uh, Mr. Stark’s intern,” Peter replies, smiling in a thin line that looks fabricated. What is he hiding?

“Did you ask him to ask me to come here?” You narrow your eyes.

“What? I didn’t even know you were, uh, coming here. What are you doing here?”

“Peter Parker, I know we aren’t the best of friends or anything, but you’re a terrible liar,” you sneer. You like the way his mouth quirks up into a defeated smile along with his pink cheeks. Your eyes widen when your gaze traces the length of his jaw. “Sorry, not sure what’s formal right now. Mr. Spider-Man.”

“Huh?” Peter’s mouth is agape but he makes an attempt at being casual by sauntering into the kitchen, turning away from you to look blankly into the fridge.

“Would you rather be called that?” Curiously, you get up from your seat and walk over to the island of the kitchen. Everything looks too clean to touch, let alone use for cooking food.

“Um…” Peter genuinely doesn’t know what to say. He forgets how to breathe once you cross the invisible threshold in the middle of the room because now that you’re closer, he can smell your skin.

“Can I try something?” You echo his words from the other night. You feel bad — the boy looks terrified despite the way he carried himself during your accidental rendezvous. He’s trembling.

Awkwardly, you take your hand and touch his shoulder, causing him to jerk without warning. He mumbles an apology as he looks at his shoes. You don’t know what compels you to do this — you’d never in your right mind do this in any other context — but you kiss him. It’s a soft, slow kiss. A short one, thanks to the voice in your head screaming for you to release yourself.

“Yup. You are definitely Spider-Man.”

The voice of another human booms in your presence.

“I see you two have met,” Tony Stark grins, walking towards the island. “Parker, Y/L/N, follow me.

___

Peter’s body is betraying himself. It’s difficult to stay still in his chair when he’s only about two feet away from you. Tony doesn’t understand the extent of the… problem, and dismisses the boy’s behavior as normal teenage ADHD. Peter can never stay still anyways.

You’re somehow better at controlling yourself, crossing your legs tightly, and keeping your palms in your lap. You’ve always been good at controlling yourself. But maybe that was the girl-instinct inside you, the ability to fold yourself over and over to be contained, small.

“Well.”

The three of you switch glances at each other awkwardly. You feel like you’re in the fucking principal’s office.

“There isn’t an actual workshop, is there?” you ask bluntly.

“Smart girl, I can see why Peter likes you,” Tony quips sarcastically. Peter glares at the man, shaking his head as if he’d just let out a secret. Which it was, maybe. At least a surprise to you.

“Why am I here?” You want to choose your words carefully, but if Peter’s the one who brought you here, there was no point in hiding Silk. “Are you trying to use me for biological warfare? Don’t you have him for that?”

You nod towards Peter and he sighs. Tony chuckles.

“The kid seems eager to get to know you, which he could easily do himself. You’re not in any trouble. Dr. Banner would just like to run some tests on you to know more about the spider, see how you differ from Peter, etcetera. We aren’t going to make you do anything you don’t want to do.”

“You just said you were going to run some tests on me.”

For the first time since you kissed Peter moments before, you look him in the eye. “Why exactly do you want me here?”

“I just wanted… to help you. You said you didn’t tell anyone about Silk except me,” Peter stammers. He plays with his fingers. “I’m sorry.”

“Well, I’m not a therapist or a guidance counselor, so if Peter can do the honor of showing you around, go ahead,” Tony says dismissively. The door behind you opens automatically, to which you storm off before Peter can catch up to you.

“Y/N, wait!” Peter calls after you.

“What?” you seethe. “I don’t want to be a hero, okay? I told you this already. I don’t want anything to do with the Avengers, I don’t care if we have the same powers, but it’s not my responsibility to be your weird little test subject.”

“It’s not like that! Don’t you want to know more about your own powers?” Peter’s voice is raised slightly as he takes your hand. “Listen to me. You told me you don’t have anyone. But I promise you, you have me. If you’ll have me.”

The earnest look in his eyes makes you want to jump his bones. God, how pathetic. You hate how weak you are for this boy, and how his puppy-dog eyes are boring into your thick skull, and how if Tony Stark wasn’t on the other side of the wall next to you, you’d pounce on Peter Parker like a tree.

“Don’t you want to know why you feel like this?” the brunette asks softly. Your fingers are intertwined, his thumb rubbing your skin innocently. It makes you jump slightly as if you’d gotten burnt.

“Fine.”

___

You always hated doctors. You hated the mundanity of the waiting room, the cold setting and sterile environment that housed tragedy despite the cut-throat policies of America’s awful culture of medical insurance. You aren’t even in a hospital, but these thoughts flood your mind all the same. You shift in your seat in front of Dr. Banner.

“Okay, Miss L/N, I’m sure you’re familiar with all your powers. Arachnid abilities, superhuman strength, speed,” Dr. Banner drones. The sound of his voice almost calms you. Like a history channel documentary. “Now, what we did find out is that mutagenic enzymes in the blood of the spider that bit you give you the ability to be in perfect physical equilibrium, in any state imaginable. That, and your Spider-sense is actually much, much sharper than Peter’s.”

You raise your eyebrows.

“Seems like the glands inside your arms help you produce your own web fluid too, which is... different.”

You nod politely. Dr. Banner didn’t really tell you anything new, but it was enlightening. Like you were getting Officially Diagnosed. You look pointedly at Peter.

“What? I had to make my own web-shooters!”

“Sucks to suck, Parker.”

“Do you have any more questions, Y/N?” Dr. Banner asks. You shake your head.

With a smile, you listen to Dr. Banner and his conversational asides with Peter. Ignoring his presence, you scroll through the apps on your phone to return some texts and check the schedule for the nearest metro. The sound of Peter’s erratic beating heart drowns out your ears like white noise. You hate that he can hear yours too.

“Why’s your heart beating so fast?” you give him a scowl.

“You know why.” Peter reluctantly flashes a peculiar look at Dr. Banner as if prompting him. “It’s the, uh…”

“Pheromones,” Banner chimes in. “That’s probably why both of you are so hyper-aware of one another. Because you were bitten by the same spider, your bodies naturally have the desire to mate when you’re in close proximity.”

Your expression is unwavering while Peter’s face grows redder and redder. You wouldn’t be surprised if he were to start melting.

“Is there a way to tune that down? So we can, like, coexist like humans?” Peter asks.

“What, like an anti-horny pill?” you chuckle darkly. Peter throws a glare at you. “What? Do you want me to transfer out of our classes? We already know what happens in Twilight.”

“I can arrange something like a serum that allows you both to control your impulses,” Banner says. “In the meantime, Y/N, you’re always welcome to the lab for any purpose. Not in a scientific prodding way, but in an inventor way. Your natural web fluid is pretty remarkable.”

“Thanks, Doc,” you sigh. Peter’s eyes flicker between Dr. Banner and you, catching you in an unfathomable grimace that turns up into a smirk when you realize his eyes on you. If there was one true fact about Peter Parker, it was that he was easily flustered by pretty girls.

“Well, I guess I should go. See you later, Peter.” The name leaves your lips like it’s yanked out of you. The sound of it gives Peter a slight pang to the diaphragm. His nervousness and immeasurable attraction to you manifest itself as a dunce cap atop his head considering how calm and collected you are, a direct contrast to his enchantment. You reciprocate these feelings in a watered-down way though you won’t show it, because despite the fact that the boy you like deliberately lured you to meet him in this bizarre, clinical setting, you still took the bait. Without another beat, you leave the room.

Peter is just able to catch you before the elevator doors close on him and you huff at how quickly he’s able to catch up to you. The silence is awkward. The drop of a paper clip would probably sound like an earthquake if not for both of your irregular breathing.

“Shouldn’t you be staying away from me?” you sneer with gritted teeth.

“What if I…” Peter trails off. What if I don’t want to? “I understand why you’d be angry with me but I really do want to help. I do want to be your friend, you know.”

“You sure that’s not your dick talking?” you taunt.

Peter gives you a pained, puzzled expression. He takes your hand, desperate for you to understand where he’s coming from, but you’re much too stubborn to entertain any of his theories or plans to make you stay.

Before Peter can answer, the elevator doors slide open and you leave as quickly as you came.

___

taglist: @mellithevirgo @icoldee @namoreno @slothmilkies @p0tterhead934 @songbirdcannabe @letssee2468

#peter parker x reader #peter parker x y/n #peter parker fanfiction #peter parker fluff #peter parker x you #peter parker smut #peter parker x silk!reader #cindy moon #spiderman x you

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lovelybarnes · 3 years

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baby blue- b. barnes

pairings: bucky barnes x reader, tony stark bruce banner, steve rogers, sam wilson warnings: child bucky, language, this is long. why is this so long about: requested by @cherry-season (apparently can't tag you)! bucky turns into a baby/toddler and is clingy a/n: okay so i know virtually nothing about three-year-olds. can you tell? thank you so much for requesting!! I had so much fun writing this <333

[@tylard-blog1]

bucky’s day wasn’t particularly fantastic to begin with.

he was already exhausted when he woke up in the early lights of the morning, his nightmares had kept him up all night-- which you theorized was due to the mission the day before that took place in one of the same hydra bases bucky had been held in. you had frowned when you realized it the day of, turning your attention to bucky and making sure he was okay with it because if he wasn’t, you would make sure someone else took care of it. he had insisted it was fine, even though the next night proved him wrong. you had done what you could, running your fingers through his hair and humming lightly until you fell asleep and he refused to wake you up, resigning himself to a sleepless night.

his morning started with his flesh arm reaching out to feel your side of the bed, hoping to find your soft, warm skin to pull you closer, but instead being met with the unkind sheets that missed the gentleness of your body. he had frowned when he realized you had already left for a meeting with some important hotshot in space with carol (you couldn’t find a better excuse to go get breakfast at your favorite alien restaurant with your favorite aliens) and wouldn’t be back for a solid few hours too long. groaning, and with no real reason to stay in bed for any longer without the excuse of getting to feel you for a few more hours, he dragged himself out of bed.

it didn’t get much better from there, because he was greeted with the sight of sam eating the last bowl of the last box of cereal in the whole damn tower because everyone rejected to go grocery shopping. since bucky refused to eat any of the frozen breakfasts tony loved so much and the stark kid swore were “the best thing ever,” he grunted at sam and walked away without eating, knowing he’d regret it later when his stomach would growl and you would immediately know he skipped breakfast.

for some unknown reason, tony had found out about bucky’s lack of things to do, and with a few winks and manipulative large-worded engineering phrases, convinced him to join him in the lab, which bucky had only really been able to see through the clear glass that separated the lab from the rest of the tower, and from the occasions where he would take food and drinks to you while you locked yourself away inside, building something alongside tony.

being inside, so close to the various machines and objects bucky cant begin to figure out the purpose of, his memories of being in school and at the top of his math and engineering classes bubble to the surface, filling him with the pride he remembers having every day at school. the thought that he could probably understand everything if you or tony explained it to him passes through his mind and urges him to ask tony to do just that, but tony beats him before he can get the chance.

bruce is eyeing them wearily from the other side of the lab, attention mostly on the test tubes in front of him. he gives bucky a smile when he comes in, but seems to ignore him for the most part until tony shows bucky to bruce’s work station, pointing out a blue liquid in a test tube marked TESTING. bruce’s neck snaps to them when tony open his big mouth, “you know, y/n was actually supposed to test something out for me today,” tony begins innocently, a suggestion laced in his words that bucky catches but decides to ignore because of the high he feels from understanding the equations scribbled on the clear glass, “do you know where she is?”

bucky narrows his eyes at him, then looks up at the clock, realizing it’s still a while before you get back, “not even on earth,” he recipes blandly, slyly sneaking a glance at the liquid for any indications of what it could be.

tony sighs dramatically, his shoulders sagging, “oh no, how do i test this now?” bruce shoots tony a warning glance that is blatantly ignored.

bucky’s shrugging before he can help it, the reminder that since you were going to do it, what could be the harm if he did? “i could do it.”

tony claps, “great!” he gestures to a door behind him, “please go in there to sign non-disclosure agreements and wash your hands.”

bucky’s shoved inside before he can fully understand the implications of his stupid offer.

the thought of asking the basic questions he should have asked before he agreed to test an unidentified liquid comes to bucky nearly an hour later, when the small vial of weird blue liquid sits in front of him, waiting to be drunk. tony and bruce sit in chairs a couple of feet away, clipboards in both of their hands, and interested expressions settled on their features.

“what does this do again?” he asks, squinting at the vial that he doesn’t notice tony isn’t looking at, furrowing his eyebrows when tony waves him off, “something super smart. no side effects or anything.” bucky’s eyes flit down to the little vial again, before they nearly bug out of his head at the humongous laser that is rolled into the room, “what the hell is that.”

“ah,” tony grins, bouncing from his seat to stand next to his invention proudly, “this is what you’re testing out.” bucky cocks his head at the man, “i thought i was drinking blue water. y/n was going to drink blue water.” tony shakes his head, adjusting some dials on the machine, “yeah, no, it was this. pretty sure i told you.”

“you didn’t-” bruce is looking at tony in concern, about to tell him to slow down so bucky has a chance to think all this through again and maybe ask if there is any chance the laser will melt him, when tony clicks a large red button and a bright white light clouds bucky’s vision just as he sees the clock on the exact same time he saw an hour ago, realizing the clock in the billion-dollar lab is broken, and you’re probably getting home any second.

“tony!” he hears bruce yell before his vision goes dark.

it’s only a second until he can pry open his eyes again, a hand curling into a fist, ready to pound stark into tomorrow when he can suddenly feel the nails of his hand digging into his palm. the surprising feeling of it where his vibranium arm should be forces him to look down at a small arm, fully skin and thin. he looks around, noticing his surroundings suddenly have grown very large around him, and the sound of his voice is higher when he tries to speak again.

“what the f-” he mumbles, cutting himself off when a sudden memory of his ma yelling at him to wash his mouth out if he wants to talk like that floods his mind, and he stares down at himself, eyebrows furrowing when he spots his short stature and the tiny hands and feet that look up at him. realization floods him like a wave, raising his chin at the two, tall, gobsmacked men in front of. “was that supposed to happen?” bruce asks quietly, nodding slowly when tony shakes his head, “no.”

there’s a light knock at the door, your hand pushing it open before anyone can stop you, and your tired face peeks in, a glowing smiling adorning your face and your eyes searching for your boyfriend, “hey, do you guys know where bucky is-” your voice cuts through the stunned silence, pausing when you catch the little boy’s eye. at first, you stare at him, your eyebrows pulling together as you get a good look at the familiar cerulean of his eyes and scan the clothing you’d seen on bucky before. for a second, everything is silent, bucky’s eyes are wide and staring as yours bore into them, searching for something you’re nearly touching until you gasp, “bucky?” you choke, reaching for him when he nods, his legs already trying to reach you as fast as they possibly can but they buckle. bucky realizes just then how old he must be now. “oh, baby,” you murmur, gathering him up in your arms before he can fall to the hard ground of the lab. “what the hell did you idiots do to my boyfriend?” you demand, turning to the two scientists who are going over tony’s notes.

bruce glances at tony, tilting his head at him as if to say him. you roll your eyes, not having any more information than when you asked, “tony?” you growl, walking over to the man, not missing the way little bucky’s hand grabs onto your shirt.

“it didn’t- that wasn’t supposed to happen,” tony defends weakly, a lazy shrug pulling at his shoulders. your eyes flash with velvet red, and, without moving a finger, tony’s pulled in front of you, wrapped in red swirls bucky can’t help but gawk at.

“fix it.” you order. tony nods, pursing his lips, “we’ll do that.” bruce looks a little taken aback, looking up from tony’s scribbles and equations. “i don’t think it’ll last more than a day,” he offers helpfully, “whatever it was tony was trying to do wasn’t either.”

bucky’s eyes start to droop, which he assumes is an effect of the sleepless night he just had on his infant body, something that usually wouldn’t affect him in his one-hundred-and-six-year-old self. he hums when he realizes the irony, leaning his head against the welcoming crook of your neck and catching your attention. you turn to him for a moment, softening a little before turning back to tony and glaring at him, “fix it.”

steve catches you when you walk out of the lab, his eyes nearly bugging out of his head when he spots the toddler in your arms, “holy shit, that looks exactly like bucky,” he breathes, scanning the dark mussed-up hair and stepping back when bucky opens his eyes. from next to him, sam looks from bucky to you, “did you two have a kid and not tell anyone, because this-”

“is bucky. that’s bucky.” you interrupt, looking at the toddler, “tony messed up with something and… this happened, i don’t completely… bucky’s a baby.”

steve raises an eyebrow, squinting at his best friend, “ha,” he laughs, “wow, he looks exactly like his pictures. he must be about three years old.” bucky blinks at him. “his ma said he was chatting up a storm at that age, though,” steve informs, looking back up at you. sam grins, “has he said anything? i kinda want to hear if he still sounds old.” bucky frowns at him, his pout deepening when sam bursts into laughter, “his grumpy face is the same!”

you look at your boyfriend, tilting your head and smiling a little when you realize he’s right, “you’re cute,” you coo now that you get a good look at him, “you’re so cute,” you murmur, poking his nose with your finger. bucky can’t help the blush that comes to his cheeks. but he slaps away sam’s fingers, scowling at him, “no.” he argues, “no.”

sam frowns, “no old man voice.”

“i hate you,” bucky says to sam, and you laugh, “i think we should leave for now. i need to figure out what will make three-year-old bucky not as grumpy.” sam looks at bucky’s furrowed brows and the same two little lines between them, his eyes flickering back up to yours, “i think that may just be a bucky thing.”

you bring bucky to the living room, sitting him down at the edge of the couch and crouching in front of him, watching him and his little crossed arms, bottom lip jutted out against his own will. bucky isn’t used to the emotional control of a child who’s three and can’t control the frustration that’s coursing through him at the moment. the only thing he knows for sure is that he doesn’t want you to leave him again.

“bucky?” you start, looking deep into the wide blue eyes that let you know it is bucky you’re speaking to. “what do you want to do? are you hungry? d’you want to sleep?” bucky shakes his head stubbornly at you, “i want tony to fix this.”

you sigh, “i know, baby. i do too, but until he finds a cure to this, you’re gonna stay small for a couple more hours.” he pouts at that, and you smooth your thumb over his cheek, “no pouting. we can do whatever you want, buck.”

just as he’s about to reject any idea you have, his stomach rumbles loudly, directing your attention to the arms that guiltily cover up his middle. “bucky... did you eat breakfast today?” you query, a lecturing tone sneaking into your words. “sam ate my cereal,” bucky grumbles, crossing his arms.

“bucky!” you exclaim, standing up to turn to the kitchen, “that’s no excuse. i told you you needed to eat--” you’re barely three steps into the kitchen when you hear the pattering of his feet towards you, grubby hands pawing at your legs.

“don’t leave,” he whines, hugging your ankles and sitting down on the floor, “you left all morning,” he mumbles, smushing his cheeks against your calf.

“i’m sorry,” you apologize, bending over to brush away the hair that falls over his eyes. “c’mere,” you murmur, reaching down to pick him up again and bounce him on your hip while you head to the kitchen. “what do you want to eat?” bucky thinks about it for a minute, before smiling, “i want pizza and ice cream.” you frown at him, “i don’t think three-year-olds can eat that. actually, i don’t think anyone should.”

after consulting google on what three-year-olds should eat, you have bucky’s head resting on your shoulder, refusing to let you put him down even as you made him the mac and cheese he had agreed to, still a little upset over the fact you wouldn’t let him eat all the other things he wanted. the only time he let you not carry him was when he was eating, still insisting you sit right next to him to watch as he smeared cheese all over tony’s expensive table.

“okay,” you whisper breathlessly after watching him eat his third bowl of the meal, “i think that’s good.” you shove the dirty dishes in the sink, washing bucky’s hands and wiping at him cheeks with a warm cloth to get the mess he managed to create off. “did you forget how to eat?” you wonder aloud when you finally fnish cleaning him up, watching his small shoulders shrug.

“what do you want to do now? anything you want,” you propose.

“i want you,” he says, reaching his stubby arms out, “cuddles. ‘m sleepy,” he yawns, making grabby hands at you when you take too long to pick him up. “bucky,” you chuckle, complying with him and bringing him into your chest, where he leans his head on your shoulder. “you sure you don’t want to play or something? you don’t want to…” you trail off, trying to think of what three-year-olds do, “walk or read or something?”

bucky grunts in your ear, his eyelids already closing again, “cuddles,” he repeats, balling your shirt up in his little hands.

“okay,” you sigh, bouncing him gently while you walk to your shared bedroom. you pick up a stuffed animal you brought for bucky from one of your most recent missions, “did you sleep last night? is that why you’re so tired?” bucky hums, cuddling further into your chest when you lay down with him on top of you. you hand him the little dog plush, pressing a kiss to his head when he takes the gift, hugging it with you. “honey, i’m sorry,” you frown, gently threading your fingers through his short hair, humming the same song bucky sings to you when you can’t get to sleep. it doesn’t take long to lull him into the calmness of rest.

you only wake up when the weight on you is suddenly multiplied, completely taking your breath away, “bucky!-” you exclaim, rolling from underneath him to meet his closed eyes. you shake your head with a light laugh, drawing a strand of hair behind his ear before you press your lips to his cheeks, snuggling in with him again, “sweet dreams, darling,” you murmur, placing the stuffed animal he dropped on your dresser.

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thecoleopterawithana · 2 years

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From Rolling Stone no less! —>

“Paul is such a Beatle fan, he writes his own fan fiction. While playing “Two of Us,” he notes how these songs add up to a concept album. “It’s like, after ‘Get Back,’ we’re ‘on our way home.’ There’s a story! And there’s another one, ‘Don’t Let Me Down’ — ‘Oh darling, I’ll never let you down.’”John: “Yeah, it’s like you and me are lovers.”Paul: “Yeah.”Aaaah, yeah. As they say this, John and Paul do a bit of flirty mirroring — they both nervously push their hair out of their face. George and Ringo do a terrible job of pretending not to notice this chat, but at least they try.I will think about this scene more than now and then for the rest of my life.”

Ah, my dear, thanks for sending this along!

And of course, who could have written this but Rob Sheffield himself? Here's the link to the full article:

24 Reasons We’ll Keep Watching the Beatles’ ‘Get Back’ Forever

Other gems include:

1. The highlight of the rooftop concert: the joy of seeing Maureen Starkey, Ringo’s wife, bop her head to “Get Back.” Nobody on the roof is a bigger fan than Mo. She was a screaming girl back at the Cavern Club — she’s the only person here who ever stood in line and paid money to hear this band. (The first time she met Ringo, she was asking for his autograph.) She’s waited years for this gig. At the end, Paul looks over and says, “Thanks, Mo” — a beautiful moment that sums up what the Beatles were all about, but also sums up what they are about, even now, which is why this story refuses to fade into the past.

6. When exactly did George get into the lace bow-tie thing? Never noticed before, but he’s really committed for a few days. The man’s taste in boots and wizard hats is flawless. But since he’s George in January 1969, he can wear anything and look hot.

10. One of my favorite moments is just a couple of seconds: Ringo gets teased by the others when he orders mashed potatoes for lunch, so he makes a sad face for the camera, then breaks into a good-morning-sunshine of a smile. I will think about this smile now and then for the rest of my life.

19. Ringo plunks out “Octopus’ Garden” at the piano. Everybody chuckles. But George comes over with his guitar and helps Ringo turn it into a real song, asking for zero credit, even though he’s having enough trouble getting the band to consider his own tunes. The generosity here says so much about these two. On his 80th birthday TV special last year, Ringo explained how George helped him write: “I can write it all, but I can’t end it, so he’d end my songs for me!’”

20. Late in Episode 2, John, George, and Ringo play “I Lost My Little Girl” — the first song Paul ever wrote, at 14, about his mother dying. (“Fairly obvious,” he admitted later.) A heavy moment, but a discreet one — nobody else in the room could have any idea what this song was, or what it meant. As always, they communicate in “Beatle code,” as John called it — a private language only these four friends can share.

And a curious statement:

7. Talk about a bombshell: After George quits, John and Paul sneak off to the cafeteria for a top-secret talk, just the two of them. They have no idea the flowerpot on the table is bugged. I screamed, alone in my apartment, like I just saw the waiter’s bowtie on The Sopranos. Ethically dubious, but wow. So here we are listening in on this private chat. John mourns that their disrespect for George created a “festering wound,” and “we didn’t give him any bandages.”A week ago, nobody knew this conversation existed, and nobody could have imagined how raw, honest, empathetic it is. This is how these two talked? Yes it is, it’s true. Yes it is, it’s true.It’s intense, especially when Paul speculates on a future they all deserved to see come true. “Probably when we’re all very old, we’ll all agree with each other. And we’ll all sing together.”

Guess we here on tumblr dot com are blessed with access to information the wider Beatles authorship can only dream of... :/

#asks me why #the beatles #rob sheffield #that paul and john business #i look from the wings at the play you are staging #maureen #ritchie #geo #macca #johnny #get back sessions #my stuff

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watchmegetobsessed · 3 years

Text

Never Have I Ever - Harry Styles (part 3)

i did not expect this to turn into more than just a oneshot, but here i am, posting a part 3?? and there’s more to come??? lmao, im a mess, having a million wips at a time, whatever. enjoy this DIRTY piece in the world of Harry and Actress!Y/N hehe!

pairing: Harry x actress!reader

word count: 3k

warning: NSFW content (we are taking a dirty turn in this part babes)

SERIES MASTERPOST

masterlist

“But are you really sure you’re fine?” Florence asks for the millionth time over the phone. “You know, I could come over anytime, have a few drinks and forget about the idiots who decided you don’t deserve that Emmy.”

“I’m very sure,” you chuckle, sinking further down on your couch, kicking your heels off your feet. “It’s not a big deal.” “Oh it is, but you are trying to act all tough, though I know it bothers you.”

“I didn’t say it doesn’t bother me, but there’s nothing I can do about it,” you tell her truthfully.

“You know, sometimes I forget that you are this wise ass bitch, not some petty loser that I usually am.”

You snort at her words laughing loudly. Florence is by far one of the funniest people you know, she never fails to make you laugh, no matter what’s the situation.

“It’s sad that I didn’t win, but I’m fine. Really. Maybe next time it will be me,” you say, genuinely hoping this wasn’t your first nomination.

“Okay, I’ll stop bugging you, but call me if you change your mind and want company.”

“Thank you, Flo. Talk to you later.”

Once you end the call you let a long, heavy breath out that feels like you’ve been keeping in all night. Walking into your closet you stop in front of the floor-to-ceiling mirror, taking a look at yourself, still wearing the burgundy pant suit you wore for the award show. You were the only woman in pants all evening and you felt more powerful than ever. You’ve always loved to make a statement with your fashion choices and tonight you feel like you definitely succeeded in getting the message through: you are a bad bitch.

Stripping out of the outfit you hang it carefully before putting on some sweats and an oversized vintage t-shirt, feeling so much more comfortable already. Your hair is still in loose waves and you kind of like the texture, so you just leave it like that, moving into your bedroom to check up on some emails.

Cozied up under your duvet, laptop resting on your thighs, you start replying to some emails, updating your schedule for the next week. You almost don’t notice the text you get, barely catching the lit up screen from the corner of your eyes. Grabbing the device from the night stand you smile down at the series of messages from Harry.

“Bunch of idiots,” the first one reads.

“I’m suing them. All of them.”

“You looked fucking unreal by the way. Couldn’t take my eyes off you.”

Biting down on your bottom lip you read the last one over and over again. It’s been weeks since your number landed in Harry’s phone and you’ve been texting nonstop since then. Whenever you pulled your phone out to check if someone had tried to reach you, there was always a text rom him waiting for you, making you smile most of the time.

“Thanks Xx,” you reply shortly, not sure how to react to his heated words of calling the whole Television Academy a bunch of idiots, though it surely warmed your heart.

“Enjoying the after party?” his next text comes fast.

“Nope, I’m home already. Didn’t feel like partying.”

“What?! You not winning is not an excuse to skip celebrating. You still got nominated!”

“Already celebrated that, so I’m out of occasions.”

“I’m sorry, but I can’t let you do that. Text me your address, I’m going over with wine and takeout.”

His bluntness in flirting and shooting his shot has been amusing to you since the moment he sat next to you on The Ellen Show. Harry Styles doesn’t shy away to try and show his attraction, or at least not towards you.

You hesitate a little, not sure if you want him here, but something deep down in your guts is telling you that you definitely want him to come over, some dirty thoughts already popping into your mind, but you are quick to get rid of them.

You send him your address and he tells you he’ll be over in twenty. You use that time to clean up a little around your apartment. You left in kind of a rush earlier, being a little late with your glam team, so you didn’t bother to leave the place in a decent state. It doesn’t take long though to clean up the mess and checking the time you see that you still have a little time until Harry arrives. As you walk past one of the mirrors in your hallway, you take a look at yourself, debating whether you should change or stay in your comfy homey outfit. At last you drop the idea to put on a different outfit, not wanting to look desperate when Harry arrives.

Not long later you get a notification from downstairs that a so called Mr. Styles has entered the building and is heading up to your floor. Running a hand through your hair you walk over to the front door and opening it you stand there, waiting for the elevator to arrive. When the familiar ding hits your ear you notice how your heart skips a beat upon seeing him walk out.

“Hi,” you smile at him holding the door open for him. He looks amazing, as always, wearing a pair of brown high-waisted pants with a loose white shirt tugged into it, a teal denim jacket topping the outfit. He looks comfortable, but still well put together, something you have always admired in his style.

“Hello, Love,” he smiles back at you and pulls you in for a short, one armed hug before walking fully inside. “Didn’t know what stuff you fancy, so I got a bunch,” he admits with a chuckle, holding up two plastic bags completely stuffed.

“You really shouldn’t have,” you shake your head at him smiling as you lock the front door and lead him into your open concept kitchen.

“But I should have,” he argues, setting the bags down to the counter, packing out everything he brought.

Three bottles of wine, all of them different kinds, snacks, both sweet and salty, topped with an insane amount of Chinese takeout that could feed a whole family, not just two people. You put the wines into the fridge though you know they won’t get chilly enough by the time you open it. Turning to Harry you smile at him shyly, only just now realizing that he is in your home for the first time.

“Want a tour?” you ask, pulling your shoulders up to your ears.

“Would love that,” he smirks and lets you lead the way.

The modern apartment in Manhattan has been your home for a little over a year now. One of the first things you invested into once you started earning like an A-list celebrity. It’s spacious, you did the interior over once you bought it, formed it a little more to your taste. You walk Harry through the living room, the three bedrooms from which one is yours, the others function as a guest room whenever a family member of one of your friends needs a place to stay. There are three bathrooms in total, a study room that’s always a mess, your desk filled with scripts and books most of the time, but Harry tells you it suits your vibe.

“And this here is my wardrobe,” you end the tour, flicking the lights on in the walk in closet, probably your favorite part of the place. It’s bigger than your bedroom, but it’s exactly what you and your passion for fashion needs.

Harry curiously walks inside, his eyes immediately stopping on the burgundy pant suit you wore earlier that night.

“This, Darling, was an excellent choice,” he smirks over at you, his fingers dancing over the soft fabric of the pants.

“Felt amazing in it,” you nod smiling.

“I bet you did,” he chuckles softly.

The two of you head back to the kitchen and sit at the kitchen island, roaming through all the food Harry has brought. A short silence comes over the room that’s broken by Harry first.

“So how are you really feeling about tonight?”

“I’m fine,” you shrug, but then feel his hand on your knee that’s closer to him and your eyes flicker over to him, his gaze burning down on you intently.

“No, I’m asking fo’ real. You don’t have to mask your disappointment.”

Licking your lips you look back at your plate filled with dumplings and you start to just poke them around with the chopsticks in your hand.

“Of course I’m disappointed. Who wouldn’t want to win? But there’s not much I can do about it, right?”

“Still, you shouldn’t push it all down.”

“I’m not the type to rage very publicly, if you haven’t realized that,” you chuckle, diverting your eyes back at him, catching a soft smile on his lips.

“That I know of. Miss No Beef,” he teases you, even though you could pretty much say the same thing about him. “I was properly screaming at the screen when they said someone else’s name over yours.”

“Yeah?” you chuckle.

“Mhm. I was rooting for you big time.”

“Well,” you sigh turning back to your plate. “Sorry to disappoint.”

“Nah-ah, none of that crap, Y/N,” he protests right away, dropping his chopsticks to his plate as he slides off his stool, stepping closer to you, one hand lying flat on the counter, while the other one finds the underside of your stool and he easily turns you so you are facing him, your knees involuntarily parting so he could stand between them. “I’m not letting you think of any less of yourself because of some stupid award.”

“The Emmys are not stupid,” you correct him, but it seems like he doesn’t even hear you, staring down at you with a smug grin, his hand moving from the stool to your waist.

“Mhm, they are. They made the most talented and beautiful woman think she is not the best of all.”

You can’t push down the smile that tugs on your lips as you watch him slowly lean closer. Heart beating faster, you let him do whatever he has on his mind, not finding the will to push him away. Not that you want to do that, you’d be stupid to say no to this man.

“Who’s this woman we are talking about?” you breathe out with a teasing smile. Harry smirks back at you, his hand squeezing your waist gently as his other hand moves up to the base of your neck, his thumb running along your jawline.

“The woman I’ve been fantasizing about lately.”

A desperate whimper tries to escape your lips, but you bite it back in time, feeling so lost how much effect he has on you with just a simple sentence.

“What are these fantasies about?” you find yourself asking as he leans closer, his nose brushing against yours.

You’re aching for his lips, to feel him touch you everywhere. You want to come undone under his hands and the breaking point where you won’t be able to mask up your desperate feelings is threateningly close.

“I’ve been thinking about making her feel real good. Watch her fall apart under my touch,” he murmurs lowly and this time, you can’t hold that moan back. Your lips brush against his, but he pulls back smirking, not kissing you.

“Fuck,” you breathe out when you feel his hand move from your waist to your stomach, cheekily teasing you as he is drawing circles around your belly button over the soft fabric of your shirt.

“Can I touch you, Y/N? I really want to make you feel appreciated and good. Will you let me do that?”

Not able to find your voice you whimper out something that’s close to being a yes, but it’s not enough for him and while you are losing touch with what’s really going on, Harry is very much enjoying seeing you like this, all for himself.

“Use your words, Love. I wanna hear you say it.”

“Yes!” you choke out and luckily, he doesn’t waste any more time.

You feel his lips connect with your neck as both his hands work on the waistband of your sweats, pushing them further down a little before his right hand taps on the top of your lacy underwear, the one you wore under your suit tonight, the one Harry definitely thought about when he first saw you through his screen.

You gasp when his hand slides into your underwear, fingers finding your sensitive bud of nerves, pressing down on them softly. You desperately turn your face, eager to meet his lips, but he pulls back for your dismay.

“Not now, Love,” he tells you and though the words sting a little, you don’t have much time to dwell on them when you feel his fingers slide back and forth between your soaking wet folds. “So wet for me, aren’t you?” he smirks while you’re trying to breath evenly, though it’s quite the challenge.

His lips return to your neck and your hands fly up to grab onto the back of his neck and shoulders, his fingers teasing you around your hole, not entering just yet. You start buckling your hips, desperate to get him take the next step and he is surely enjoying the show you are putting on for him.

“Ready to feel good?”

“Yes,” you breathe out, hands grabbing onto his hair roughly and a loud moan escapes your lips when he pushes two of his fingers inside you.

“Fuck, this feels so nice,” he groans, lips nipping on the soft skin under your ear. He is quick to take up on a pace, moving his digits in and out, his thumb circling on your clit, adding that extra magic most men always forget about. But not Harry, he is eager to please you the best he can and if you weren’t sitting, you’d be on your knees for him by now.

“Yeah, tug on my hair, Darling,” he growls, his voice sending chills down your spine as you tighten your grip in his hair just as he asked, while you feel your climax building up.

He picks up his pace, curling his fingers inside you every time he thrusts them in, making you almost see stars. Your legs fly around his waist, ankles crossing above his bum as you bring him closer, and a whimpered groan bursts out of him, probably because his erection just got squeezed against his hand by your action, his nonstop moving hand now stuck between your heated core and his throbbing member. When his head pulls back you quickly look at him, about to ask if he is alright, but he just presses a soft, lingering kiss to the corner of your mouth as his unsaid answer that he is perfectly fine.

His forehead comes to rest against yours as he adds a third finger, making you moan his name in ecstasy. Your mind is starting to completely shut down, the sensation of utter pleasure taking over your whole body as you can feel your orgasm just a few thrusts away.

“C’mon, Love. Let it go for me,” he mumbles, his free hand sliding to your back so he keeps you flushed against him, your heaving chest touching his upper body with each drawn breath.

“Fuck, I’m so close,” you pant, eyes screwed shut, tipping over the edge of your climax. “Please don’t stop!” you beg whining.

“Never, Darling.”

And he keeps his words. He keeps going and going until your walls close up around his slick fingers and your thighs tremble around his waist. You tug on his hair once again, pulling his head back just enough so your eyes meet right when you come undone. His fingers keep moving a little longer, bringing you down from your high before the last wave of your orgasm dies down and you are brought back to reality.

When his fingers slide out of you, the feeling of emptiness makes you breathe out in dismay and it brings a smile to his lips as he licks his fingers clean and you swear that’s the hottest thing you’ve ever seen, watch him taste your pleasure on his own fingers.

Glancing down you see the very visible bulge in his pants and you reach down to return the favor you just had the pleasure to get, but his hands wrap around your wrists stopping you, your eyes snapping up to meet his.

“Not now, Love. This was all about you. I’ll be fine.”

“But—“ “No,” he cuts you off shaking his head gently. “Seeing you like this was more than enough for me.”

Biting down on your bottom lip you feel yourself blushing at his words, the whole situation that just went down dawning on you just now. Harry really did just finger you on one of your kitchen stools and it was one hell of an experience for sure.

When your gaze wanders over to his lips you remember how he refused to kiss you and now you actually have the chance to pay more attention to this tiny detail.

“Why didn’t you kiss me?” you ask him, legs falling from his waist as he goes to sit back on his stool. He glances at you, a soft smile on the lips that never touched yours.

“I wasn’t planning to do this, but I just couldn’t stop myself. However, I’m still trying to be a gentleman, so I won’t kiss you until I’ve taken you out on a proper date.”

“I can’t believe you,” you chuckle shaking your head at the absurdity of what he just said. “So you are fine fingering me shamelessly, but you won’t kiss me without a date?” you ask, rephrasing his words.

“That’s right,” he nods, his smile growing into a smirk now. Shaking your head you turn back to your probably cold plate of food, chuckling to yourself.

“Harry Styles, you are… something else.”

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#harry #styles #harry styles #harry styles never have i ever #harry styles series #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles smut #harry styles fluff #harry styles oneshot #harry styles one shot #harry styles x you #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x reader #harry styles x actress!reader

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honklore · 3 years

Text

landslide | karl jacobs

(kindergarten teacher!karl, single mom!reader, oh no karl’s apartment gets flooded so he has to stay at his best friend from high school’s house who also happens to be the mother of his favorite student, karl just being soft and sweet and a great friend, um talk about the baby daddy being a loser essentially, the beast team is there playing the role of karl’s friends from school, graham is the sweetest child, slight angst, fluff, friends to lovers, SOFT KARL, warmth, comfort, romance coded but very light)

listen to: landslide by fleetwood mac, never grow up by taylor swift, growing up by river run north, rainbow by kacey musgraves

Karl helps one of his kids press their palms onto the wall. When they release their palm, pink paint remains, making a sort of leaf to the tree branches painted onto the wall.

“Now write your name,” Karl advises another kid, whose orange paint had already dried.

“G-R-A-H-A-M,” the boy writes out with a large permanent marker. “Can I take a picture? For my mom?”

All the rest of the children begin to shout their agreements, also wanting to bring home a picture for their parents. Karl grabs his yellow Polaroid camera and takes a picture of each handprint.

He keeps all of the pictures in the chest pocket of his denim jacket. “Okay, guys— to the sink! Whoever has the cleanest hands gets to help me pass out snacks!”

“Why are we having snack time so early?” It’s Graham that asks, the little one always eager to be around Karl.

Karl ignores the boy’s paint covered hands poking at his clean jacket, and answers him as politely as he can. “Mr. Jacobs forgot his lesson plans today, so we’re going to watch a movie instead.”

“A movie?” Graham’s eyes widen.

“Yep,” Karl giggles. He crouches down to Graham’s level and whispers, “You wanna pick it?”

“Nature Nut!” Graham cheers almost immediately, causing Karl to wince.

Ah, yes, the wonderful little DVDs of a lonesome man teaching the watcher about bugs and weird types of slugs. Karl actually has the entire collection, and Graham happens to adore them just as much as Karl did when he was a kid.

“Alright, go wash your hands and I’ll get it started.”

It’s a little girl named Hana who cleans her hands the best, so she passes out organic fruit gummies to everyone while Karl puts in the DVD.

While they watch the video, Karl checks his text messages.

There’s one from Chris: “I’ve already got Chandler on the couch. Sorry, man. You can have the floor, but it’s not gonna be comfy :(“

Right. Karl forgot that Chandler lives in the same complex as him. His apartment is probably just as flooded as Karl’s is. Now if the landlord would just answer his calls and help him... maybe this situation wouldn’t be so stressful.

Karl didn’t forget his lesson plans; they’re just submerged in his bedroom with everything else Karl has left lying on his carpet. And maybe it’s his fault for not buying more storage bins, but a studio apartment can only hold so much stuff.

Serves Karl right for doing his lesson plans at home instead of at the school like most of his fellow kindergarten teachers.

He lets out a quiet sigh, careful not to disturb the children. He only has a short list of friends left to ask, and while he doesn’t think they’ll mind him asking, he really hates to put anyone in that position.

Besides, most of his friends have roommates or significant others and Karl doesn’t want to ruin their routine. He’d hate to intrude. And he could always sleep in his car for a few days, but the amount of stuff he had to pack because of the flooding has barred any chance of a good night’s sleep.

The video ends, and Karl gets the kids seated with coloring pages until their parents arrive.

One by one, he I.Ds the parents and tells the kids goodbye, helping them put on their coats and take home whatever library book they picked out earlier.

Finally, there’s only one kid left, and Karl is a bit embarrassed of his hyper-awareness to Graham. It’s not even his fault, really. Graham just has a beautiful mom, who happens to be Karl’s beautiful friend, and sometimes Karl gets eager to see you during pickup time.

Whatever. It’s no big deal.

The kindergartener already has his coat on. His curly brown hair is almost unruly as he continues to work on his coloring sheet.

Karl pulls at the hem of his sage sweater sleeves and wonders if his hair looks okay. Maybe he should invest in a little desk mirror; or maybe that’s vain.

“Hey, Karl! Sorry I’m late!” You rush in, holding on to your leather messenger bag. You fix your glasses before they fall off the bridge of your nose, and Karl is so focused on the movement that he almost forgets about your child.

Until said child is scolding his mother. “Mom! You have to call him Mr. Jacobs! It’s rude to call him Karl!”

“Your mom is an adult,” Karl reminds Graham (as soon as he finds his voice.) “Since she isn’t a student, it’s okay for her to call me Karl.”

Graham pinches his lips together, and then shrugs. “Fine. Mom, we watched Nature Nut today.” He runs up to you and wraps his arm around your middle. “Can we go to the park and look for slugs?”

“Sure,” you giggle. “But we need to get home soon, okay, Bud? I have to make dinner and then we have to clean up the mess we made last night.”

Graham turns to Karl and smiles naughtily, like the trickster he often is. “Mom said I could tear up her papers last night. She said it’s There-pee.”

“Ther-a-py,” you emphasize for the five-year-old.

Karl studies your face, and he can tell that you seem a little more stressed than usual. “Therapy, huh?”

You smile sheepishly. “Well, when your son catches you tearing up old love notes, you have to let him in on the fun, right?”

“You are a team,” Karl acknowledges. He wants to ask more; wants to dig into your heart and extract whatever is hurting you, but your son is standing between the two of you, waiting for him to say goodbye. Karl clears his throat and picks at his sweater again. “Anyways, uh, text me tonight? Let me know you two got home safe. And, I’ll see you both tomorrow.”

“Yeah,” you breathe. You smile at him and then take Graham’s hand. “Thanks, Karl. I’ll text you.”

Karl spends the night at a motel down the road. He texts a few of his friends and hopes for good news in the morning, or at least a confirmation from his landlord.

When you text him, a little selfie of you and Graham, holding up what looks like microwaved s’mores, his heart grows fond, and he forgets about his own problems for a moment.

Life has never been very easy for you. From the get-go, you have always been destined to fail, growing up with an absent father and an overworked mother. With a dead-end dream like yours (writing, of all things), it’s no wonder you clung to what little breaths of freedom you had.

He was handsome and bold, with a carefree smile and brown eyes that mirrored the sun. The lead singer of a band, with a voice like chimes. And you fell just as hard as one of your many protagonists. Perhaps the mistake always lay in the fact that you put too much fantasy into reality. You have always romanticized the littlest things, and that comes back to bite you more often than not.

You never expected one: to get pregnant your senior year of high school, and two: have to go through it alone.

Of course, most people you come to love leave eventually. It’s something you have always remembered; something that sticks in the back of your brain like gum to the bottom of your child’s Spider-man skechers.

Graham is the only constant in your life. Though you’ve been blessed with a decent job editing for a webazine company, and you can work from home more often than not, Graham is the real thing that keeps you alive.

He’s the most precious boy, with brown curls and big brown eyes. He favors his father, and though that should deter you, it reminds you of innocent days, and it gives a new meaning to brown eyes. Graham is not his father, and he never was.

Graham certainly got his love of learning from you. Though he likes science more than writing, you adore how eager he is to always get to school. It helps that Karl is his teacher.

Karl’s been your friend since freshman year of highschool, when the two of you both took the same creative writing class the local university offered. Though the two of you had differing end goals, you often studied together and encouraged each other. He was there when you found out you were pregnant, and he was there when you found out you’d be raising your child alone.

Now life comes full circle, and you see him twice a day. You could go out on a limb and say he brightens up most mornings, but you would still give that slot to your son.

Karl is standing at the doorway now, greeting all of his students and helping them take off their book bags and coats. He’s wearing monochrome today: red pants, a red sweater, and red shoes.

Graham lights up almost immediately, and you are thankful today that you decided to dress Graham in his red t-shirt. “Mom! We match!”

“I know,” you grin, squeezing his hand.

Karl glances at Graham, and then you. His cheeks showcase that same pink hue they always do, and while it should clash with his red garments, it doesn’t. “Hey, Karl.”

“Hey,” he grins, cheeks full at the sight of you two.

Graham spreads his arms and waits for Karl to help him take off his jacket. “Do you see that we match, Mr. Jacobs?”

“Yo, that’s awesome, Little Man!” Karl gives Graham a fist bump that seems to appease him, and you wait for Graham to run to his friends before addressing Karl.

“How have you been?”

Karl sighs. He brushes his hair away from his eyes. “Okay. My- uh- my studio apartment flooded so I’m staying at a motel until my landlord can get me estimates on when I can come back home.”

“That sucks,” you frown. “You know, if you need a place to stay, I have a pullout couch in my office. And obviously, Graham wouldn’t mind.”

Karl pales. “Are you serious? I didn’t mean to suggest anything, Like I know you work from home and you need your office.”

“And you’ll be at school until three,” you say. “I’ll work then. C’mon, Karl. I don’t like knowing one of my friends has no place to stay.”

Karl bites his bottom lip and scratches the back of his neck. “Yeah. Okay. I’ll drive over after I check out of the motel.”

“Great!” You smile. “I’ll order pizza.”

"Graham, clean your room," you say, struggling to push your desk against your office wall. "We're going to have a guest for a few weeks."

"Mom," Graham whines, "They aren't going to look in my room."

You begin to take the cushions out of the spare couch to start setting up the pull-out bed. "Mr. Jacobs is coming over, Graham. Don't you want to show him your collections?"

Graham's brown eyes grow wide. "Mr. Jacobs? You didn't tell me he was coming!"

"He's going to be staying with us for a little bit, okay? So I need you to be on your best behavior."

“Can I show him my worms?” Graham asks, alluding to the compost bin in the small backyard of your townhouse.

“Yes,” you say, thankful that he isn’t putting up much of a fight toward cleaning. You’re also thankful he isn’t asking any questions, as Graham always seems to have a few at the top of his tongue.

Graham cleans up his room quickly. You know for a fact that he’s just shoved all of his toys under his bed, but it’s enough until the weekend, when you’ll have more time to help him organize.

The little guy hoards rocks like no one’s business. You curse the day Karl decided to teach the kids about geodes.

“Wanna help me make up Mr. Jacobs’s room?” You half-yell, while grabbing spare bedding out of your linen closet.

Graham’s little footsteps are head before he answers, and soon he’s at your hip with a quick, “He can have my Frozen pillowcase!”

You hesitate to tell Graham that his Frozen pillowcase is currently on one of your pillows, but just you can’t give your guest a dirty pillowcase. “That one is in the wash, Buddy. Why don’t we give him your Spider-Man one?”

“So he matches my pajamas!” Graham is easily pleased, and he even takes one of his stuffed bears to add to Karl’s made-up bed. (“So he doesn’t get scared at night.”)

By the time the pizza arrives, Karl is just behind, so you keep Graham busy with a slice of cheese and a glass of diet pepsi (only half of a can, and only because it’s a special occasion) while the two of you bring in Karl’s stuff.

He surprisingly didn’t bring much, and when you ask about it, he grimaces. “My studio is pretty small so a lot of my stuff was on the ground and got mildewed. Other stuff was in bins so I just left it there. I only need clothes and my lesson plans, anyway.”

“Well, here’s the desk and bed. It’s not much, but there’s a lock on the door in case Graham ever gets too inquisitive — bless him — and curtains so the stupidly bright sun won’t wake you too early.”

“Those both sound like personal experiences, Y/n,” Karl teases. He takes off his jacket and throws it on the bed. “Yo! Spider-Man?”

“Graham picked it out,” you say. “He also relinquished one of his bears to keep you safe in the middle of the night. His words, not mine.”

“He’s so cute,” Karl mentions offhandedly. The fondness in his tone takes you back a bit. Not because the phrase isn’t true, it’s just that most people find your son annoying before they find him endearing. The change of tone is nice.

“He is,” you say. “And he’s dying to show you his room after we eat dinner.”

Karl gives you that same lopsided smile he often had in high school. Part of your brain shifts to his personal life, and you wonder why Karl himself isn’t in a romantic relationship. Not that he has to be, but the both of you are getting older, and Karl has always been one to express a fondness for having his own family one day. Maybe he just hasn’t found the right person.

It isn’t until Graham is peacefully in bed — after a very chaotic reading of Goodnight Moon by yours truly, and an argument that Mr. Jacobs cannot, in fact, sleep in the same room as him — that you actually have a chance to show Karl around the house.

“Here’s the guest bathroom. Graham almost always uses the bathroom in my room because he likes looking at the big tub. He will beg you to play with him, but if you’re busy don’t feel guilty telling him no. He knows what no means and he’s good about playing by himself.”

Karl giggles. “Okay. I don’t mind playing with him, though.“

You show him around the kitchen, where you left little spaces for him in the pantry. You show him the garbage bags and the T.V. settings and the list of compostable ingredients. “And also, please come and go as you please. Like, I completely understand that you’re here temporarily and you aren’t a babysitter or anything like that. I don’t expect you to be in charge of Graham any time outside of school.”

Karl blinks. “But if you ever need time away, you can ask me. I don’t mind babysitting.”

“I know,” you smile. “But Graham is my kid. I don’t need time away from him.”

You’re lying. Karl knows it. You’ve been in this single parenting thing for five years and you aren’t about to reach out for help now.

“Anyways, if you have any questions just ring me or ask me,” you say. “I’ve got to get to bed. Goodnight.”

“Thanks, Y/n.”

Karl thinks it’s sweet the way Graham insists on making his own breakfast.

You’re already up when Karl gets out of his (temporary) bedroom with his clothes tucked under his arm. You’re busy arguing with Graham. “You can’t fry your own omelette for the last time.”

Karl quirks an eyebrow at your exasperated face. You look stressed beyond belief, even though the day has just begun.

Karl tosses his clothes back in his room and walks into the kitchen. “Hey, Graham! Do you want to show me your rock collection?”

Graham spins on his sock-clad heels, eyes bright at the thought of seeing his teacher. “Mr. Jacobs! Yes! Let’s go!”

He grabs Karl’s hand with ease, leaving you room to finish making breakfast.

Graham’s room is fairly simple. The small wooden bed is covered in a green quilt, and beneath that, frozen-printed sheets that certainly don’t match. He has a tub of stuffed animals shoved against a small dresser.

Karl gets distracted by the framed picture on top of the dresser. It’s a picture of you and Graham’s father, a few months before you got pregnant. He’s smiling, and you’re holding up a peace sign. It makes Karl feel a bit sad, knowing that Graham’s dad never stayed around to see how wonderful he turned out to be.

Then again, a lot of people in your life left as soon as they found out. In high school, no one wants to be friends with a teenage mother.

Karl reckons that if he had a family like this, he’d never take them for granted.

Graham pulls out a gemstone. It’s a murky green one that Karl has let him take home from class. “Do you remember this, Mr. Jacobs?”

Karl grins. “Yeah, bud. Thanks for keeping it so safe for me.”

Graham beams. He grabs Karl’s hand and pulls him towards his dresser. “Can we match? I want to look like you.”

Karl feels his heart swell. He wants to smother the young boy in affection, but he doesn’t want to cross a line. He’s your friend, sure, but he’s also Graham’s teacher. He can’t coddle Graham more than the other children. He already has a godchild to coddle. “I’m wearing yellow today. Do you have any yellow clothes?”

“Let’s look!” Graham yanks open one of the drawers and begins pulling out the articles of clothing one by one. “No, no, no... Here!” He finds a pair of yellow overalls, folded amongst the mess he made. “I’ll wear these!”

“Let’s clean up first, okay?” Karl grabs the overalls. “So it’s clean when you come home from school.”

Graham, looking like the last thing he’d ever want to do is disappoint Karl, begins to pick up each shirt with obvious intent. He tries to fold them, and does a somewhat decent job, so much so that Karl leaves it, thinking you’ll find it endearing rather than annoying.

He really loves that about you. He likes your patience with Graham. You’re so young, and in reality, he squashed so many early dreams of yours. No matter your lot in life, you never blamed your child. Karl thinks that’s why Graham is so open, so adaptable, so endearing.

He helps Graham get dressed and leaves him in his room so that he, himself, can get ready.

When he emerges from his shower, hair wet and clothed in yellow, he smells something amazing.

He doesn’t want to intrude on your morning with Graham. He already feels too indebted to you already.

“Have an omelet,” you say. Wisps of hair cover your face. You place a plate down in front of him.

Graham is already eating his omelet, slowly, while flipping through a picture book. He sounds out words he recognizes, but stays silent the rest of the time.

Karl takes out his phone and scrolls through his instagram feed just as your own phone begins to ring.

“Shit,” you curse, and then immediately apologize to Graham. You press the red button and tap anxiously on the tabletop.

“Everything okay?” Karl asks.

You run your hands over your hair and let them rest on the back of your neck. “Yeah is just—“

The phone rings again, and this time you pick it up. “What do you want? ... Why would you tell me that? ... Why should I care? ... Please stop contacting me, okay? Goodbye.”

You slam the phone down and leave the room. Karl watches you disappear down the hallway, sniffling.

“Mommy is upset,” Graham says. He looks at Karl, lip quivering. “At me?”

“No, Buddy! Of course not!” Karl reaches over the table to ruffle Graham’s curls. “Never at you.”

“When we tore up paper, she was crying.” Graham fiddles with his book page.

Karl wonders why your ex’s actions are being brought up five years later. Last he heard, you had fully healed from the breakup long before Graham’s first birthday. But now he’s about to be six, and you're suddenly upset?

He’ll have to ask you about it soon.

“Are you ready to go to school, Buddy?”

“Yeah!”

You cradle your face in your hands and try to ease the tears back in. You’ll never get this article proofread and sent if you can’t see the keys.

The door opens, and Graham runs in just in time for you to finish wiping your eyes. “Hey, kiddo! How was school?”

“Mr. Jacobs let us finger paint!” Graham holds up his palm, covered in dried paint, and grins brightly. “Can I have gogurt?”

“Yeah bud. Why don’t you put something on the T.V.? You can have your snack in the living room today.”

“Yes!” Graham takes blueberry gogurt out of the fridge and — after getting you to tear it open — runs into the living room. Sneakers and backpack still on.

Karl trails behind, clutching a messenger bag to his chest. “What’s going on?”

You sigh and close the laptop. The manuscript will have to wait. “Ben called. About a week ago. His girlfriend is pregnant. Called me to tell me he wasn’t going to leave her— like that would heal what he did to me. Then he called this morning to tell me they’re engaged.” You burst into tears then, and you feel so pathetic for doing this in front of your old schoolmate, that you hide your face behind your palms and allow your shoulders to shake. “Why weren’t we enough? Why wasn’t I enough?”

Karl scoots one of the chairs in front of you and sits, leaning his elbows on his knees. “Hey. Look at me.” With gentle hands, he grabs your wrists and pulls them away from your face. “It is not your fault he left.”

“But it has to be me in some way,” you retort. “He must not have loved me. Something, because now he’s going to raise her child after he left mine. Graham deserves a dad.”

Karl places his forehead against yours. The two of you used to do it all the time in school, mostly with immature giggles in the spaces between, but now it’s heavy with intention. “Graham has not felt even a little bit unloved in your care. You are all he needs, okay? You’re amazing.”

You nod, head still pressed to Karl’s. “Yeah. Okay. Sorry for getting too emotional, there.”

“Be as emotional as you want,” Karl says. “I’ll be here to balance you out.”

Your heart stutters at the words, like maybe they mean something more than he’s letting on. Of course it’s stupid to think Karl Jacobs would ever even consider you, but just the knowledge that he cares makes your soul feel a little lighter.

“I’m a mess,” you stutter, bringing your fist up to wipe at your nose.

“Nah,” Karl grins. He runs the pad of his thumb across your cheek and grins. “You’re alright.”

“It’s snowing!” Graham wakes Karl up by jumping on his chest.

Karl sucks in a breath, winded at the sudden weight, and grabs the boy, lifting him off of his chest and onto the mattress. “Hey, Buddy. Let’s not jump on sleeping people, okay?”

“Okay,” Graham says. He’s already lost interest in Karl, now crawling off of the bed to open the blinds. “Come look at the snow!”

“I see!” Karl rubs his tired eyes and checks his watch. “We might have a snow day, Graham.”

“Yes!” Graham pumps his fist into the air. “Let’s go tell mom!”

You’re sitting on your bed, chewing on a red licorice rope and flipping through a fashion magazine. You look up when Karl and Graham enter.

Karl likes seeing you like this: the domesticity of seeing you in the morning, lazy and true. His chest sparks when he thinks this may be one of the only moments he can capture you like this, so he intends to commit the sight to memory.

“Did I hear snow day?” You grin at Karl, childlike wit in your own eyes — the same as your son’s.

“Looks like it.” Karl rolls up the sleeves of the sweater he slept in. “You want pancakes? I make some mean chocolate chip pancakes.”

You shift your gaze away from his arms and clear your throat. “Uh, yeah. Just let me get dressed and I’ll help—“

“No need,” Karl insists. “Enjoy your quiet time. Graham and I will make the most delicious pancakes you’ve ever tasted.”

“With lots of chocolate chips!” Graham shouts.

You give him a pointed look. “But not too many.”

Graham huffs. “But not too many,” he repeats.

Momentary splashes sound from your bathroom, followed by Graham screaming “It’s a dragon! Run for cover!”

Karl giggles from his place on the couch. He’s got mushroom-patterned socks on, and he’s tucked up into the cushions, nursing a can of Monster. “How does he still have so much energy?”

You sigh and pull your beanie down over your forehead. “You’d think a snow day would tire him out. Thanks for constantly carrying him up the hill, by the way. I know you’re a teacher, but sometimes I forget how good you are with kids.”

“I do have a godson,” Karl reminds you.

“But Tucker is a baby,” you say. You only know the baby’s name because of Karl’s constant snap stories about him.

“Most babies and kids want the same thing. Affection and attention.” Karl scoots over to the edge of the couch and pats the cushion.

You sit next to him. “I guess that’s true. You’re really good with Graham. He’s not this open to other adults.”

Karl is clearly blushing now; you can see his pink cheeks even in the light of the television. “He’s great in class, always helping the other kids.”

“He wants to impress you,” you say. You pop open a can of orange soda and take a sip. “He thinks you’re just the coolest guy.”

Karl laughs and shakes his head. “Didn’t you hear, Y/n? I’m handsome and cool.”

“Oh, of course,” you nudge his shin with our own sock-clad foot. “How could I forget? Mr. Ladies Man in high school.”

This makes Karl blush even harder, because he most certainly was not a ladies man in high school. In fact, he was a nerd in all senses of the word, part of the debate club with a few other boys. He had a few dates here and there, but nothing ever stuck.

“Shut up,” he mumbles. “My time is gonna come.”

“Hasn’t it already?” you ask before you can really process your own words. But of course he knows that he’s grown into his face, right?

Karl is positively handsome, eyes bright and lashes long. He’s so warm and comforting to you. He must be just as comforting to everyone else.

“What do you mean?”

“You’re handsome, Karl,” you say plainly.

“You mean that?”

“Of course I do,” you say. “Why would I lie?”

Karl opens his mouth, perhaps to call you out. To tell you you’ve been too honest, but he’s interrupted by your son.

“Mom! I’m ready to get out now!”

“I should go,” you say, still looking at his eyes.

“Yeah,” he says. His sweater has small spots on the shoulders where snow has fallen and since melted. He shivers.

“You should take a shower. You’ll catch a cold.”

“Okay,” he whispers. “Yeah, I’ll do that.”

Chandler comes over the following Saturday night to hang out with Karl, and you’re surprised at how much he truly hasn’t changed since high school.

He’s still got infamously perfect eyebrows, and his voice is still monotonous despite its humor. “Nice place.” He raises his brows as he looks around.

“Who are you?” Graham is sitting at the kitchen table, watching Minecraft playthroughs (kid-friendly ones you’ve watched through yourself) on your phone to entertain himself while you clean.

“I’m Chandler, Karl’s friend.”

“This is Mr. Jacob’s friend from school,” you say, detailing your words so they’re easier for your son to digest.

Graham stares at him for a moment, not quite judging but not quite accepting either. “Okay. Do you want to see my rock collection?”

Chandler looks genuinely excited, and accepts before you can come up with an excuse for him. Graham tells Chandler to stay in the kitchen while he grabs all of his rocks.

“How have you been?” you ask the taller man. “Like, with the flooding and everything?”

“Well, I’m on a couch at Chris’, which is good since he doesn’t charge rent. But that means I’m near Tucker, and that baby has some lungs.”

You laugh. “I remember when Graham was a baby. I was so young, and my mom told me it was my responsibility to wake up and take care of him whenever he cried in the middle of the night. I was so pissed at her for making me do that, but those were some of the best nights to bond with him.” You realize you’re ranting and shake your head. “Whatever. Baby screams are loud as hell.”

“You can say that again. I’ve been talking to my friend Jimmy about taking his spare room and paying rent. I dunno how many more sleepless nights I can take.”

“Why would you need to pay rent if you’re just crashing?” You wipe down the kitchen table to keep yourself busy.

“Didn’t Karl tell you? Our landlord is in heaps of trouble because the pipes weren’t up to code and that’s why they busted. The damage is basically too expensive to fix, so we’ve got to find new places.”

You stop cleaning. “Karl didn’t tell me that.”

“Oh.” Chandler scratches his brow. “He probably didn’t want to worry you. He feels really bad that he’s stayed with you this long.”

“It’s only been a month or so,” you counter. “Besides, Karl’s a great housemate. He cleans and keeps Graham occupied. Plus, now I have someone to watch corny game shows with.”

Chandler grins. “Oh. Okay, I get it.”

“Get what?” Karl, finally out of the shower, steps into the kitchen and immediately tackles Chandler in an energized hug.

“Nothing!” Chandler’s voice cracks

You shoot Chandler a weird look, and change the subject. “Where are you guys going?”

“To play video games at Jimmy’s.” Karl says, and the thrill in his voice makes you think of high school. Of the debate team bus rounding the corner. Of you standing there, waiting to congratulate him with a big hug and a frosty from Wendy’s.

You miss it. “Have fun, okay? I’m probably going to tuck in as soon as Graham does, so just let yourself in.”

“You’re leaving?” Graham comes in, and his arms are filled with smooth and rough stones and gems he’s both found by himself and bought at random general stores while traveling.

“Not before I see your rocks!” Chandler says with so much enthusiasm, you think he’s telling the truth.

Graham giggles and drops the rocks onto the ground. Of course, he wants your guest to sit on the floor and count rocks. You’re almost embarrassed.

“ ‘ Okay, Y/n?” Karl laughs at your expression. Then he places his arm on your shoulder, thumbs the skin of your upper arm.

And once again, it’s high school. It’s senior year graduation and Karl is the only one who congratulates you. It’s his comforting touch, him coming over in the middle of the night after you texted him a picture of your first sonogram. It’s that same comforting touch. That little “I’m here,” and it melts you on the inside, leaves you in a shell of an eighteen girl again. Scared, and worried, and a little less alone.

“Yeah,” you manage. “I’m okay.”

The television plays Cartoon Network reruns on a low hum. Karl is curled up in a blanket, nursing a bottle of water and thinking over Chandler’s words.

You’ve liked her since high school, dude.

Which is a complete lie. Seriously, Karl didn’t have a crush on you in high school. He would know if he had a crush on his best friend. You’ve been his friend since freshman year, and that’s all you’ve ever been.

Now in college, it was different. In college, Karl was alone in a dorm with Chris, and you were one of the only people from high school he stayed in contact with. In college, he would bring you your favorite snacks and drinks, and other things you would forget to buy because you were a part-time student and a full-time mom. In college, you would pull all-nighters with him, working on your exams while Graham was asleep, then using energy drinks to get through the next day.

Karl even remembers the time your mom caught the three of you fast asleep on your rug, with unopened monster cans and an empty milk bottle beside you.

Throughout your entire pregnancy he was warned not to stay friends with the pregnant girl — it’d be too much for him, he wouldn’t want to become the new father, and all kinds of other stuff people would mumble to him when you weren’t around.

But you never expected him to be anything other than your friend. You never asked him for the help he gave — though you thanked him always — and you never once assumed he’d take the role of Graham’s dad.

And now… now he finds himself wishing you would.

“Mr. Jacobs?” Graham creeps up without him even realizing.

Karl jumps, sets his water — and thoughts — aside. “Hey, Bud. It’s really late. What are you doing up?”

Graham sniffs, and Karl realizes that the boy is crying. “I had a nightmare.”

Karl holds out his arms before he can think, and lets the five-year-old crawl into his lap. He wraps them both in his blanket and turns the television up just a little more. “Was it scary?”

“You left.” Graham says, voice less watery, like he doesn’t know the weight of his words. He’s focused on the rerun of Adventure Time that’s playing. He’s not even remotely interested in his nightmare now, with his tears dried up, and his eyes drooping back towards slumber.

“I’m going to leave one day,” Karl says, because he thinks it’s important that Graham knows.

“You should stay with me and Mom,” Graham says. He yawns. “We like you so much!”

Karl’s heart stutters. He tries not to think about it.

When Graham’s bed is empty the next morning, you freak out. He’s always in his room in the morning. Even if he wakes up before you, he stays in and plays with his toys.

You’ve already got your phone out, and your mother’s number called, when you walk into the living room.

Relief floods your system. Karl and Graham are asleep on the couch, snuggled up serenely like they didn’t just cause you to have a premature heart attack.

You hang up before the call to your mom can go through and stand there, watching the two boys sleep. Graham has both his arms wrapped around Karl’s forearm. It’s such a sweet picture that you take out your phone and snap one.

The flash is on.

Karl scrunches his nose and winces. “What the–”

“Sorry!” You whisper. “You both looked so cute, I couldn’t help it.”

Karl smiles, still sleepy, and finally opens his eyes. He peers at you, stormy green under fluttering lashes and you’re almost intimidated into looking away. “He had a nightmare.”

“Oh?”

“About me leaving.”

“Oh.” You frown. “I’m really sorry about that. I keep telling him that you’re moving out soon, but I don’t think he fully understands.”

Graham stirs. You reach down and pick him up. Your knuckles brush across Karl’s warm, sweater-clad chest and you suddenly wish you could cuddle with him, too. You shake the thoughts away and focus on your drowsy son. “You’re staying at Grandma's for a few days, remember?”

Graham rubs his eyes and perks up. “And I’ll see her cat?”

“Yes,” you confirm. “But we’ve got to get you dressed because she’s coming in a few minutes.”

“Karl Jacobs!” Your mom’s voice embarrassingly rings through the apartment, and you realize Karl has taken it upon himself to open the door. “Y/n told me she had a temporary roommate but I never thought she would finally ask you!”

“Oh my gosh…” you mumble, buckling Graham’s overalls and hauling him up into your arms. “Mom! His apartment flooded so he’s staying here. Don’t be weird about it.”

“But he’s so handsome,” your mom coos. You’re concerned she might reach forward and pinch Karl’s already ruddy cheeks.

“Thanks,” Karl laughs. “But she’s right, I’m just squatting until I can find a new place.”

Your mom harrumphs. “Well, I don’t see why you can’t stay here forever. Y/n doesn’t even use that office room. And even if she did, the two of you could just share a room.”

“Mom!” You plunk Graham into her hands and grab his overnight bag. “You have to leave.”

“Did I say something wrong?” She sounds worried, but there’s an undisclosed mirth in her eyes that makes you think of your freshman year, when you did have a crush on Karl.

“You said everything wrong,” you say, kindly pushing her out. “Have a good time, Graham. I love you! As always, Mom, call if you need me to come get him.”

“Yeah, right!” She yells over her shoulder. Graham is already giggling, so you close the door with confidence.

You turn back to your roommate. “I’m sorry about that, Karl.”

“It’s fine.” He smiles, but it’s reserved. “But speaking of me finding a place… I know Chandler told you that I can’t go back to my own apartment. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner.”

“It’s okay,” you say. You want to say “You can stay here as long as you want, and long as you’ll let me keep you,” but that would reveal too much, and you don’t want to lose the one good friend you have.

“And I was thinking I should move out soon anyway.” Karl pulls his sweater sleeves until they cover his hands. He’s hiding. He’s shielding himself the same way he did in junior year, when he got turned down by his crush to go to the prom. “I don’t think it’s good for Graham to get this attached to me if I’m just going to leave.”

“Oh,” Your sleeves are too short, but you want to shield yourself too. “Yeah, that’s… that’s probably a good idea.”

Karl stands there for a beat, like he’s waiting for you to say something more. Like he hasn’t just taken your heart and pushed it aside. Like this hurts a lot less than it actually does.

But any word out of your mouth would be tearful. It would be honest. It would ruin everything. “I’m going to go on a run.”

There’s a cricket outside that won’t stop chirping against your window. You blame it for your insomnia, choosing to ignore the anxiety of eventually losing Karl. It feels so horribly childish, since you’ll see him when you drop Graham off at school. And you’ll see him whenever the two of you go out for coffee on weekends.

But you won’t see him in the kitchen, reaching for the pancake mix so his shirt rises up and you can see the dimples in his back. You won’t see him humming along to the radio while he works on his lesson plans. You won’t feel his warmth when the two of you stay awake, nursing spiked lemonade and giggling at the commentary videos you find on YouTube.

He’ll just be Karl again. He won’t be home anymore.

Startled by the realization, you get out of your covers and rush to your door.

It opens before you can even reach for the doorknob, and there’s Karl in his pajamas, biting his lip and avoiding your eyes.

“I don’t want you to leave,” you say, just as Karl confesses,

“I love you.”

You open your arms and he dives in, face pressed into the space where your neck meets your shoulder. Warmth envelopes you and the scent of pine fills your nose.

Karl is timeless. Youthful glory and childish pride. He’s a pinch on the side and a push on the swings. Like a rock that actually skips on the first try. Like shoes that you can slip on when they’re still tied. And he’s here, in your arms, squeezing you like you’re something valuable enough to lose. He’s confessing love like you aren’t the worst possible candidate for his heart.

“I can’t offer you much,” you start, but Karl bumps his forehead against yours, boyish and playful — football fields and bright red lockers and secret notes on bathroom walls.

“I’ve known you for years, Y/n,” Karl’s voice is a low rumble. Green grass eyes blinking at you like you’re something to second glance at. “I know what I’m getting into. I want you. I want Graham. I want everything this is, and everything we’ve been for the past month. I don’t want this to end.”

You close your eyes, because his are too honest. He’s open and vulnerable and gentle — a child on the first day of school, ready to make friends. You take a deep breath, try to remember what you were like on your first day. Rosy cheeks and shy glances. Knobby knees and a trusting heart. You reach out for whoever you once were — the Y/n with a heart open and willing to be loved. “I don’t want this to end either. I’m in love with you, Karl.”

His grin lights up your world in its entirety. Gold flecks in emerald green disappear as he smiles, too thrilled to keep his eyes open. And when he kisses you, warm lips against cold ones, you feel like a puzzle has just slotted into place.

It would only make sense that you would grow to love the boy you grew up with.

#karl jacobs fluff #karl jacobs x reader #karl jacobs fanfic #mcyt x reader #mcyt fanfiction #mcyt fluff #pixiecap//

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starfirette · 3 years

Note

How about Helena Bertinelli jealous of the reader with other people because she didn’t have the same experience of seeing cartoons and movies (say the search for revenge is not full of cinema tickets. Something fluff in the end please 🥺💖

I made this into a bullet fic!! I hope that's alright. That quote is stellar, though!!!

This woman is the most sheltered assassin I think I've ever known

She may be a mafia boss but, like, she's very much like the sheltered kid

At the end of the day, she's afraid of everything. She worries about food poisoning and mass shooters

She's afraid ALL THE TIME for your safety and everyone else's

Well, when someone asked her why she "just can't have a fun time" she got angry and flustered

it was margarita night at the taco place Harley loved so much, and these nights became tradition

Harley had finally found real friends and she was ready to get to know them all

Everyone was talking about their favorite movies and all of a sudden everyone around Helena seems to be quoting something that she didn't know

Everyone knew it word for word and Helena didn't

you all laughed and Helena didn't, so naturally you were concerned

"Didn't you ever see Toy Story?" you asked

"Uh, no"

"Oh. We should watch it tonight."

"Uh, okay."

"Oh! Let's watch Studio Jibbly," Harley said as she sipped her drink

Cass just drank a virgin lemonade but she nodded

"It's 'Gib-Lee'" Dinah corrected. Harley didn't care

"What is Studio Jiggly?" Helena asked

"Again, it's pronounced 'Gib-Lee.'"

Shut up Dinah

"It's sorta like a series of anime movies," Renee said. Even Renee knew and that made Helena feel lame

"Animated movies? That's cool," Helena said rather meekly

"No, anime movies," you corrected. "Oh, we should watch The Secret World of Ariette! Remember I said I loved that for a baby name?" you told Helena as you nudged her. Yes she remembered but it didn't matter right now

"That's really great, really, really, but I've never seen it."

"That's why I suggested we watch it," you said carefully

"You didn't see it? I mean, it came out in 2010, that was like a decade ago," Harley said as she stirred her drink

"Ten years ago I was hunting down everyone that massacred my family before my very eyes." Helena sipped her margarita as her friends looked around, feeling a little not comfortable

"Oh, Hel..." you muttered, rubbing your girlfriend's shoulder sympathetically

"I saw that with Rick in the movie theatres," Harley continued on.

"Well I'm sorry, Harleen, but-"

"Oh shit," Cass said. Helena only calls Harley Harleen when she's mad. When she's mad at Cass, it's Cassandra.

"-But I didn't have much money for cinema tickets during my quest for revenge."

".......Cinema?" Harley asked.

"Quest?" Cassandra said.

"Not enough money?" Dinah said, sounding high pitched and shocked. "You lived in a villa."

"She's Italian," you told Harley. "She says cinema."

"Ah, those romantic languages," Harley said as she tapped her temple. "So, you know, romantic."

"Shut up," Helena snapped.

Dinah balanced her chin in her hand. "So why don't you have an accent?"

Helena just left the table

You glared at everyone. "Thanks. Now she's upset"

"Ah, boo hoo. So she didn't experience cartoons and movies? Just show her the cartoons and movies. No biggie. Now witnessing the so called 'massacre' of her entire family is a bigger issue to tackle."

You glared harder at Harley.

Harley leaned forward and asked, "She doesn't even have, like, an auntie?"

You left the table while Renee cackled in the background. She never actually contributes to conversations

You found Helena lighting a cigar outside, looking distressed and sad

"I don't really see why you're upset," you said, trying to make light of the situation. Helena wasn't happy

You hugged her waist from behind, inhaling the smell of her tobacco and leather perfume

"It doesn't matter that you didn't see movies. Or cartoons. We can just binge it all together. That doesn't sound fun to you?"

Helena tapped some ash on the sidewalk. "I'm pretty sick of being the oddball."

"Hel, you're not the oddball. Renee is basically a high functioning alcoholic with a gun collection. Cassandra is basically homeless and a pick pocket who now works for Batman. Dinah has a magic scream, and Harley is Harley. So you fit right in."

Convincing Helena it would be okay goes perfectly. Everyone goes home and starts out with the classic movies; some original disney. pixar, The Titanic.

By far she loves The Godfather, Forest Gump, Snow White, and Heathers

She watches lots of cartoons in her free time just to study up on lingo and classic media references

She keeps a notebook

She wonders why "What's up, doc?" is so popular because it's not funny

She rants all the time about why Looney Toons isn't funny.

She doesn't like Bugs. Don't ask me why but she'd probably kill him on sight.

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calpalirwin · 3 years

Text

Permanent Vacation

Summary: Calum falls for a musician.

A/N: I just really wanted an excuse to use Arrows in Action newest releases in a fic. (They’re bangers. You should go give ‘em a listen.)

Word Count: 2.8k

And away, and away we go!

The sun was hot as it beat down on my neck, the line for the beerstand long, and the noises of people chatting excitedly were loud in my ears. But I didn’t care in the slightest. After the isolating shitshow that was quarantine, I was more than happy to be out at a festival with, wait for it, live fuckin’ music. The only way I could be happier was if my band was in the lineup, but this was still a pretty close second. To be surrounded by musicians and people who loved music was a breath of fresh air after so long. A breath of very hot fresh air. But still.

Behind me I heard the girlish giggling and whispers of my name, which drew the attention of the group in front of me: three guys, and a girl around my own age, two of the guys a good shoulder and head taller than the other man and girl. The shortest of the guys whispered, “Could you imagine if we got noticed like that?”

The tall brunette’s eyes went wide as he pulled a face and shook his head. “No, thanks. I think I’d cry.”

The other tall one with purple hair laughed loudly, “Aw, c’mon, that would be rad! His band’s not even in the lineup and he still gets recognized. Could you imagine?”

“He has a name, and can hear you, J,” the girl hissed with a playful eye roll. Then, she flashed me a smile before calling out in a loud voice, “Hey, man! Good to see ya! How ya been?” to me, before taking a step forward and stretching up to wrap her arm around my shoulders like we were old friends. “Just go with it,” she added under her breath. “Nobody’ll bug you for pictures and autographs if you’re with a bigger group.”

“Thanks,” I laughed at her rescue attempt. “But it’s fine if they do. I don’t mind.”

“Yeah, but they can at least let you buy a fuckin’ beer first.”

“Well, thanks again,” I said, not sure of what else to say, or do so I let her pull me up with her friends who were all staring at her with I’m sure the same look of soft shock I had on my own face.

“I’m Y/N, by the way.” She let go of me as she started introducing her friends to me. “And this is Jesse.”

“Hello,” the tall one with purple hair smiled warmly.

“That’s Matt,” she nudged the other tall one.

“Hey.”

“And this is Vic,” she finished, looking at the shortest man who waved.

“Nice to meet you guys. I’m Calum,” I said, then realized how stupid that was. “But, you already knew that, huh?”

Y/N grinned, holding her thumb and index finger close together. “Just a smidge. But it’s cool. So, any bands you’re particularly excited to see?”

“The Maine and All Time Low mostly. I’m a huge fan of The Maine, and All Time Low are friends of mine.”

“Both are great bands. And the All Time Low guys are good friends to have, for sure.”

“Oh, you know them?”

“Yeah, we worked with them a few times.”

“Worked with? Fellow musicians, huh?”

She laughed. “We’re up and comers, yeah.”

“Your cool aunt’s favorite band,” Jesse grinned at me.

Y/N laughed more at the confused look that crossed my face. “That’s one of his favorite ways to refer to us. Like we’re the band you find out from word of mouth from the cool relative that’s always discovering new music.”

“Ah,” I said, nodding in understanding. “Been there. Are you guys in the lineup?”

“Yup!” she chirped happily as we got to the front of the line. “5 beers, please,” she told the person working the counter.

“Oh, you don’t have to,” I tried to decline, reaching quickly for my wallet.

“Relax, it’s just a beer,” she told me, passing me one of the cups being placed on the counter.

“Well, thanks,” I said, raising the cup and taking a sip. “I’ll getcha guys next time.”

“I’ll hold you to it,” she grinned around the rim of her own cup. “Enjoy your beer, Cal. See ya around.”

~~~

I took the last swallow from my beer, cursing myself for not having stopped her to get the name of her band, or at the very least her last name. But before I had a chance to get the words out, I’d been bombarded with requests from fans for pictures, engaging in small conversations with them, and by the time I was done, Y/N was long gone.

So I resigned myself to walking around the festival grounds, my head reeling. It wasn’t often a woman pretended to be my friend to rescue me from the onslaught of fans. In fact, I couldn’t recall one time that's ever happened. I also wasn’t used to being bought drinks, even if I was still fully intending to return the favor. Although that would require me to find her first. But something told me that wouldn’t be too difficult.

I was grateful I’d come on my own, and not with Ashton who would have no doubt teased me about how hooked I was on the girl. The cynic with a crush? Whatever were the odds? And was it even technically a crush when I’d only interacted with her for maybe five minutes? Okay, maybe Ashton being around wouldn’t be the worst thing if he could help me make sense of the jumble of thoughts in my head. The way that man could bounce from crush to crush almost seamlessly was enough to give me a case of whiplash.

I sighed as I tossed my cup in the trash. Whether or not it was a crush was still to be determined. All I knew was that I liked her energy, and wanted to see her again. And… that was a crush, wasn’t it? God. Fuckin’. Damn it.

A guitar chord rang out loudly, and there was a mad dash of people running towards the stage. Slowly I pushed my way through the crowd of people towards the front, grinning when I noticed it was her on stage, and grinning even more when I noticed the instrument in her hand. A bassist? Fuck, I was definitely in trouble now.

The shortest of the men, Vic, I recalled, started singing, with the other three providing backup harmony on the chorus. Until they got to the bridge that was all Y/N, her voice ringing out “Tomorrow’s a nightmare, I’m dreaming today. And my head is haunted, the past just can’t stay. The devil you know, yeah he comes and he goes. I’m selfish, and vapid, I hide in my prose!” before they launched into the final chorus.

“What up, Anaheim?!” Vic yelled into his mic to a scream of cheers and applause. “We’re Arrows in Action, and that was our newest single, Only Be Mine. I’m Vic. We got Matt over here on guitar. Jesse’s on the drums. And Y/N’s over there on bass. We got a few more songs for you all. And if you’re an awesome crowd, we might have a special treat for ya at the end of our set. Sound good?”

We answered him in whoops of cheers and loud applause, causing them all to grin as they launched into their next song.

They played seamlessly through about three more songs, enjoying the feeling of playing live in front of people again, before Y/N whooped into her own mic. “Whoo! It’s hot! Anyone else hot? Y’all staying hydrated out there?” she asked us, before flickering her gaze across the stage at Matt who was wiping his forehead. “You good, Matt?”

“Dude, it’s like a million degrees up here,” he commented, before taking a huge swig from a water bottle.

Y/N laughed. “Right. Y’all gotta understand. Matt’s from the cold states. Then there’s Vic and I who are California natives, technically, right Vic?”

“Yeah, I was born here. But I didn’t live here as long as you did.”

“Yeah, that’s what I thought. So Vic and I are used to the heat. Matt, not so much. And Jesse? How you doing back there, J?”

“Me?” the drummer pointed at himself in confusion “Oh, I’m great!”

“Great enough to give this crowd a real surprise?” she asked, her voice laced with playful trouble, as she looked at all her bandmates. “C’mon, boys what do ya say? Wanna give this crowd something special before we go?”

Again, we all cheered and applauded as encouragement for whatever surprise they had in mind. “Alright!” Vic laughed. “Alright, you wanna go ahead and introduce it then?”

She smiled wide as she turned towards us. “Alright, everybody! We’re Arrows in Action. We’ve had a great time with y’all! So, as a thank you, we’re gonna play a new song that we haven’t released yet. Is that cool with you?” She laughed as she awaited the response of screaming, whistles, and applause. “Alright. This is called Permanent Vacation, which will be available on all listening platforms this Friday. Let’s go!”

Matt started playing a series of chords that sounded incredibly familiar, while the other three clapped to the beat. But right before the lyrics were supposed to come in, Vic started talking into his mic. “Wait, wait, wait!” he laughed. “I don’t know the lyrics to this!”

“So it’s just like every other song,” Y/N teased him with her own laugh.

“Nah, I think it’s cuz that one’s not ours.”

“Be rad if it was though,” she said, and I swear she shot me a wink. “Alright, alright. So, that one’s not ours. But this one definitely is. And it’s definitely called Permanent Vacation. And it’s out Friday.”

A new guitar and drum beat started up and Vic immediately started singing, again with the rest of the band providing back up vocals until the bridge where it was all Y/N. A soft build before a wild yell that would have torn my own vocal chords to shreds.

“I’m locked and loaded, fire away! Permanent vacation from my brain. Extend my stay another day. Far from home, not alone,” they all finished with a flurry of chords. “Thank you!” Vic croaked into the mic. “Thank you guys so much! We’re Arrows in Action, enjoy the rest of your night!”

With tired but happy smiles, they all bowed before exiting the stage. I moved to follow, but thought better of it, going to hit the drink stand first where I bought 5 beers and 4 waters. A small challenge, made slightly easier by the person working the stand putting the water bottles in a grocery bag for me. With that hanging off my arm, I held 2 beers in each hand, and my own in my teeth.

“Cal!” she laughed, her face flushed when I found them lounging in the grass. “You didn’t have to do that,” she told me as she rose to her feet to help me distribute the beers.

“I said I’d get the next round,” I offered up simply, setting down the bag and taking a seat with them all. “I brought you guys water, too.”

“You really didn’t have to do that,” she laughed, tossing the bottles out anyway, and sitting back down, this time next to me.

“Shut up, Y/N, let the man do what he wants,” Jesse said, downing a water bottle in 2 gulps before turning his attention to his beer. “You’re rad. Thank you.”

“For real, man. This was really cool of you,” Vic said.

“Yeah, huge thanks,” Matt nodded.

“What they said, I guess,” Y/N laughed again, following Jesse’s lead of downing her water bottle before going for her beer. “Fuck,” she sighed. “That’s good. Thank you, really.”

“Happy to do it,” I answered. “That set was amazing, by the way. And that joke at the end was pretty clever. How long were you planning that?”

She giggled. “Uh, well Jesse and I are much more the 5sos fans than Matt and Vic are. But we’re all familiar with your music. And when we were writing the song, and settled on the title, I suggested that it would be funny to start playing your version if we ever got the chance to play it live. Which meant bugging Matt to learn the guitar parts.”

“So you’re the troublemaker of the band?” I guessed.

She shrugged, and hid behind the rim of her cup. “I mean… Depends on the day.”

We continued to lay in the grass, making small talk as we all finished our beers, before Jesse cleared his throat. “Uh… Matt, Vic. You guys wanna come with me to get a good spot for the rest of the acts?” he asked, the suggestion in his tone heavy.

Matt and Vic shared a look, before nodding. “Yeah, yeah of course,” they said, all three of them getting up.

“You assholes are just gonna leave me?” Y/N asked, looking up at them.

“Just come find us when you’re ready,” they winked. “Thanks again for the beers, Cal.”

“Assholes,” she muttered again as they all made themselves scarce. “Sorry about them.”

I laughed, waving it off. “Nah, it’s cool. And kinda nice, maybe?”

“Oh?” she asked, her eyes wide. “Uh…” her face flushed. “I mean…” she started to stammer. “Yeah. Yeah.”

I gave a half chuckle, scratching at the back of my neck. “Look, it’s fine if you’re not… I mean, I figure you probably are if they did that for you, cuz they have no reason to do it for my sake. I mean, they’re your friends and bandmates, not mine. But I know a wing man set up when I see it. But if it’s more of a meddling wing man set up, like that’s fine,” I spilled out, before realizing I was rambling.

“No!” she rushed. “Oh, no, that’s not what I meant at all!” She covered her face in her hands, groaning “Oh, this is so embarrassing…” Her hands moved to push through her hair as she took a long breath to steady herself. “Of course I like you, Cal. Like before I even met you. One of those embarrassing fangirl crush type of deals. And I mean, I’m a bassist in a punk band, so you’re also someone I idolize and take inspiration from.” Slowly her gaze lifted from her lap to lock onto mine. “And then I met you today. And you’re everything I thought you’d be. Thoughtful. Generous. A bit shy, and quiet at times. Nice. And it makes the crush that much stronger, and harder to deal with. Cuz now it’s real. And I feel like I know you. And it’s just… Ugh, it spirals from there, ya know?”

“A good spiral, or a bad spiral?”

“Bit of both? Like the insecurities in me say that you’re an A-list celebrity, while I’m more of like… not an A-lister. My band’s not on the same level yours is. I mean, we play bars and small day festivals. You sell out stadiums and have world tours. There’s a clear discrepancy. But then, another part of me doesn’t give a shit about that. It sees how we’re like-minded. It sees all the ways we click, and all the ways we could work. And that’s where the cocky part comes in, where it sees the like-mindedness and the reasons we could work, and calls you an idiot if you can’t see it too. That, uh, screwed up defense mechanism of it being your loss, ya know?”

“Mhm.”

She sighed. “Sorry. I said a lot. Point is, I do like you. And, that’s that.”

“So the ball’s in my court?”

“Only if you want it to be. And if you don’t, then no. There’s no ball. No court. Just two people who have a few things in common.”

“You wanna hear what I think?”

“Go for it.”

“I think your friends left us for 2 reasons. 1 being that they’re loyal to you, and know how you feel about me. 2 being that they’re also guys. Which gives them a pretty good insight for how I’m feeling too.”

“Uh-huh…” she nodded slowly. “And how you’re feeling is…?”

I could have said the words. But I settled for leaning in, brushing my lips softly against hers for the sweetest of moments, listening to the way her next breath got stuck in her throat. I pulled away, smiling softly at her and shrugging my shoulders.

She traced her lips with her thumb, bewilderment written on her face. “Okay, you really didn’t have to do that.”

“Relax,” I chuckled, stealing her words from earlier. “It’s just a kiss.”

“Well, thanks. I’ll, uh, getcha next time.”

“I’ll hold you to that.”

Tag List

@aquarius-hood1996 @creator-appreciator @philthepegacorn @myfavfanficsever @cxddlyash @youngblood199456 @stormrider505 @iknowyouthinkimbulletproof @hoodhoran @metalandboybands @maybeememez @1weekago @centerlino @binxiboo

#permanent vacation #calum hood #calum hood fic #calum hood x reader #musician!reader #5sos #calpal irwin

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