#also two posts within twenty four hours? am i okay????

[lotus-pear]

crying over kokomi's beta design. we were robbed😭

#this took a grand total of forty five minutes so just ignore all my lazy attempts to cover up anatomical mistakes okay #trying out a new style if you couldn't tell #also two posts within twenty four hours? am i okay???? #genshin impact #sangonomiya kokomi #kokomi #kokomi genshin #genshin impact kokomi #lotus draws

[scarerjh]

Peri-menopause/Post Apocalypse

Joel Miller x f!You One Shot.

Summary: You’re on patrol with Joel (ooh I rhymed), get stuck in a cabin until morning, a little bit of body warmth trope, a little bit of one bed (cabin) trope, with a sprinkling of idiots in love. Also S.M.U.T.

You were on holiday when it happened, in a foreign country celebrating your twenty tenth birthday that had been in the February. Now it was about 6 weeks until your twenty thirtieth birthday and you were hauled back into your memories as you trotted behind Joel quietly as you did the late patrol.

You had survived 20 years of an apocalypse, and in a foreign country. The first of your five friends on holiday with you hadn’t even survived outbreak day, you’d had to dispatch her yourself, your other friends never looked at you the same after that, and you didn’t feel the same. You had a few memories that made you smile though too, you almost chuckle thinking about Alice as you looted the shops to get what you needed before trying to head out of Austin, the first city on your planned road trip. Alice had picked up boxes of condoms saying, “you never know,”. “I’m pretty sure an apocalypse is contraception enough right now,” you had retorted.

Like many around you in Jackson, including the stoic man in front of you, you’d done things you never thought yourself capable of to survive; you carried the guilt of being the only survivor amongst your friends, and carried the sorrow of not even knowing if your family was alive, and you weren’t sure you would come to terms with never knowing. Without evidence there was always hope…and hope fucking hurts.

You’d been in Jackson for about four years, your skills as a medic being a huge bartering tool to get them to let you stay. Somehow, you’d managed to carve out a life, and for being in an apocalypse, things were peaceful when not on patrol. In Winter, days like today, patrol was usually quiet too.

 The snow started falling and at first it was pretty despite there already being more than enough on the ground. Within the hour a snowstorm seemed to be settling in, so you sped up, needing to get to the checkpoint and return to Jackson ASAP.

At the cabin you signed the book for the two of you as Joel checked everything was secure, it was a basic little place and would often require ongoing repairs, especially in Winter, despite this, it was still a shock when you heard the crash of wood and a gruff curse. To your right Joel stood covered in a new dust of snow, the door to the cabin at his feet.

You both tried your best to make the cabin secure with what basic tools were available, but it was rotten, and the top hinge was completely unusable.

Joel stood with his hands on his hips surveying the door and caught you bouncing on your toes blowing on your cold fingers.

“Okay, we’ll make ourselves a fire and set in for the night until the mornin’ patrol come,”

“Shit, it’s going to be freezing,”

“We’ll be alright, I’ll build a fire, you grab any blankets you can find. We’ll make do,”

You were never averse to spending time with Joel, but you were averse to returning to Jackson with fewer toes than you left with. Every scrap of fabric in the place was hunted down and you started building by the fireplace before you set up the stove.

As Joel worked on building the fire you watch his broad back shift, and his big hands handle the logs and kindling. His jeans pulled taut over his backside, showing off its gentle curve.

“I thought you were brewing coffee,” Joel spoke over his shoulder, pulling you away from your leering.

“I am,”

“Well, I ain’t hearin’ it,” his tone was teasing.

“Well, someone needs to hurry up and start the fire so I can use the flint for the stove,” you retorted.

The teasing in your friendship with Joel was a recent development, starting just a few weeks ago, and you liked it, really liked it. Since his arrival in Jackson he had slowly opened up to you as he settled in, and you observed the change keenly, like a lot of other singletons in Jackson. He was slowly getting used to not needing to be on alert all the time, his resting bitch face started to soften around the edges, and he was slowly becoming more sociable. He was still very much a calculated man, but every so often, and increasingly so, his guard was lowered around you, telling you once after a few whiskeys that he felt at ease around you, even safe.

The two of you were similar in some ways, both a little stubborn, both keeping your social circles small, and both too stupid to admit your attraction to the other, assuming it was one sided.

You saw all the single people in Jackson and how they looked at him, you were one of them. He was strong, handsome, and extremely capable, surprisingly soft spoken, and very polite. Every single person in Jackson seemed to want to solve the mystery that was Joel Miller. You think you’re ahead of the curve though, but that has led to unrequited feelings, and though you technically haven’t been rejected, you haven’t been brave enough to even try to blur that line between you. There were younger and prettier people than you in town, and he could have his pick, so why would he pick you?! You were discovering lines on your face, a little weight to your belly. If you weren’t sweating like a nun in a cucumber patch, you were looking like an idiot because you couldn’t think of the right word. You weren’t exactly feeling like a catch.

 Joel was pleased with his work, the door to the cabin barricaded with what furniture was available, a fire starting to take hold, and the bubbling of coffee behind him. He found himself smiling at your sass, it was one of his favourite things about your friendship, well, about you really. He never had any qualms about undertaking any kind of detail with you, but patrol was his favourite. Just the two of you sharing stories from before outbreak day, and plenty of them about days since. Being not too dissimilar in age you remember a lot of the same things. Your silences together were comfortable, you worked well as a team whether you were hunting or fighting. Somehow you made his coffee taste better, and despite hating it, you would sometimes steal a few sips if you were cold. He never failed to be both enamoured and amused as your nose would crinkle as you gasped after swallowing the bitter liquid. Joel thought you were so sweet, but you would never go for someone like him. Since becoming settled and opening himself up to the possibility of as close to a normal life as possible this new world could afford he’d started developing a niggle in his stomach, it started when he met you and has only got worse since. He found his gaze lingering on you, felt a tightness in his chest when you laughed, and a tightness in his jeans when you would strip to your tank top and fan yourself in one of your ‘tropical moments’, a thin film of sweat glistening on your skin that he wanted to lave with his tongue. But you were too kind, too bright, too beautiful to want him. He felt you could see his tainted soul when your bright eyes held his gaze.

“You havin’ some?” Joel offered up his cup of coffee.

“If I get desperate,”

“You don’t know what you’re missin’ darlin’,”

“I know very well what I’m missing,” you wiggled your socked toes near the fire. You spend the next hour idly chatting before making sure the barricade was holding before settling down for the night, zipping your sleeping bags together so your body heat would carry you through the night when the fire died. Sharing a bed or a sleeping bag wasn’t new to either of you so there was no embarrassment as you both got comfortable, ensuring your weapons were in reach before bidding each other goodnight.

Some of your most restful nights outside the walls of Jackson have been laid up against Joel, his warmth and musk lulling you towards sleep; eyelids suddenly heavy and muscles relaxing, sinking into the makeshift bedroll. Your slumber came so quickly you didn’t notice Joel pressing his lips softly to the top of your head.

Joel noticed it was an unsettled night for you, tossing and turning, but you remained asleep, so he just assumed you were uncomfortable. If you weren’t having a nightmare there was no reason for him to wake you. If he did, you’d probably kill him with a spoon.

A thud startled Joel awake, and he felt you curl into him, a small moan rising from you.

“Sssh!” came softly from your lips.

“It wasn’t me,” his voice was dry, and low from sleep. He felt you stiffen in his arms at the thought of an intruder or infected. His arm instinctively pulled you tighter into him as he surveyed the room. There was nothing and no one in the room besides the two of you and he started to relax. “Think your boots just fell over darlin’,”

As you both relaxed your sleep addled brains took a moment to register that Joel’s bare hand laid firmly in the middle of your very bare back. The realisation was almost in unison and you both looked down under the covers. Somehow during the night, you had stripped yourself of everything but your knickers.

“Oh fuck!” you clung onto Joel to try and hide yourself while he oscillated between amused, embarrassed, and turned on.

“The fire ain’t even that warm,” you could hear his amusement in his tone, but couldn’t see the struggle in his face with yours buried in his chest, cheeks burning furiously.

“It’s you!” you thump your fist into his chest.

“Wha…?!”

“You’re like a furnace, I must have started with a hot flush,” you look down at yourself again and Joel’s eyes follow suit, his gaze being met with your cleavage, your breasts pressed tight to his chest. He couldn’t stop the small groan that escaped his chest and his hand curled into a fist at your back. All he could think of was pushing is face into your soft flesh and inhaling your scent.

The sexual sound of his groan, the tight fist at your back lit a fire in you, and your pussy started to throb. You snapped your head up so quickly, trying to get a read on him that you headbutted his chin, his head reeled back as you swore in tandem.

"Oh fuck, Joel! I’m so sorry!” you instinctively rise and cradle his face in your hands surveying the damage. His eyes were watering slightly but he was otherwise unscathed. Having slid up his body Joel was very aware of you pressed against him, thigh almost encased by his own, breasts sitting high on his chest, so close he could probably just about reach their soft swell with the tip of his tongue. You watch Joels’ gaze fall to your cleavage, bounce up to your eyes before focusing on your lips. His warm hands squeeze your hips, and when you speak his name it’s a breathy question, one which he understands immediately, nose brushing against yours.

“Yeah,” he utters before your lips make contact. A shiver of adrenaline ran through you, causing you to inhale deeply through your nose because no way in hell were you letting your lips leave his. A small grunt parts Joel’s lips and you take your opportunity to delve your tongue into his mouth. His hands leave a blazing hot trail up your back as you shift to straddle him under the covers, his hips bucking immediately as your hot core presses against his hardening cock.

“Fuck…wanted you for months,” he spoke with your earlobe perched delicately between his teeth.

“Really?!”

“Yeah, you’re so fuckin’ beautiful,” he looks up at you. “I tried to stop it, tried not to let you in…” he squeezed two handfuls of your backside.

“Let me in?!”

“I…I ain’t…fuck…I tried not to let you in,” his words may fail him, but his actions don’t as he places your palm over his heart as it heaves beneath his ribs. You crash your lips to his once more, kisses becoming feverish and sloppy, both of you fumbling with the buttons of his shirt as you grind against him, whimpering at the feeling of his hard cock caged in his jeans. Forcing you to sit up he pulled his shirt and t-shirt off over his head, both of you erupting in goosebumps as the cold air hits your warm skin.

“Oh shit darlin’, you’re so pretty,” he took the opportunity to gaze upon your bare body, palming your breasts gently, feeling your nipples tickle against his palms. He lowered his head to suck one nipple into his warm and wanting mouth, delighting in the gasp that rises from your throat. In this position his denim covered cock hits your clit just right and you begin riding him like that, slipping your fingers into his soft curls to anchor yourself against him. The undulations of your hips were as frustrating as they were relieving for the ache of his stiff cock.

“Joel…” you whimper as you get closer to your release, your soaked pussy clenching around nothing, the coil in your abdomen about to snap.

“Mmm, that feel good darlin’?”

“Yeah, oh fuck Joel, I’m gonna cum,”

“Cum all over me darlin’, I got you,”

“I want you inside me, want you to fill me up,” you wrap your arms around his neck and speak against his lips as you near your precipice.

“I will baby, I promise, but you gotta cum for me first, ‘kay? Cum for me and I’ll give you anythin’ you want,” He kissed his way along your jaw as you clung to him and your breaths stuttered, he buried his face in your neck laving your skin with his hot tongue as he listened to all of your sweet moans and whimpers in his good ear. You break against him, hips bucking, and a torrent of filth pouring from your lips, punctuated by moans of his name and calls to the almighty as lightening spread through your body.

“Oh fuck Joel,” your hands snake back into his hair and he throws his head into your touch as you gently scratch his scalp. You rest your forehead against his, a stupid, satiated smile plastered on your face.

“Good?” his eyes twinkled and his lips curled.

“Great!” you held his face in your hands and kissed him softly.

“That was so goddamn sexy, seein’ you come undone like that,”

“Let me see you,” you run your hands over the broad expanse of his chest.

“Yes ma’am,” he smiled as he rolled you both over so you were laid on your back. Everything seems to slow for a moment as you look up at him; the light from what’s left of the fire dancing across his strong features. As your fingers wander gently over his brow his eyes close at your delicate touch.

“I can’t believe you want me too,” you air your insecurities, not actually meaning to do so out loud. His eyes spring open, his gaze holding yours as an incredulous look sits on his face.

“Why wouldn’t I want you?!” he asked as though it’s obvious.

“Because I am currently feeling like an aging, sweaty mess. There are so many women in Jackson, younger, perkier, you could have your pick,”

“I think you’re overestimating my appeal,” he chuckles self-effacingly. “Besides…” he dips his head and lowers his voice to a low growl “…I have picked. Why would I want a girl when I want a woman…when I want you,” he punctuates his sentence with a strong roll of his hips. “You’re so fuckin’ beautiful, I can’t promise I’m gonna last but I wanna be inside you, feel ya squeezin’ me,”

“I want it Joel, I want you inside me. I need to feel you, need you filling me up,”

“Yeah?” he looks up, eyes dark and studious of your features as he unfastens his jeans. You both shift so he can shuck them down enough to free his aching cock.

“Oh fuck, you’re going to feel so good,” you take in the heft of him and lick your lips.

“Think you can take me darlin’?” he asks in a gentle tone, rubbing his length along your soaked folds as he hooks your sodden panties out of the way.

“Yeah, just…slowly,” you give him a little wink. He notches the head of his cock at your entrance and watches for any signs of discomfort as he pushes in achingly slowly. Every ridge and vein of his cock, every adjustment of your soft walls around him was felt keenly. Your back arched into him as he became fully seated within you, his hands ran up to cup your breasts as you moaned in unison. “Fuck, you feel so good,” your hips squirm beneath him.

“Hold on sugar, jus' need a minute,” his twinkling eyes showed a playful warning.

“That’s three terms of endearment and it’s not even dawn,” you tease.

“Would you like me to stop?”

“No! I really like them, they sound so good in your Texan drawl,”

“Well then sugar…darlin’…sweetheart…” he began to plant sweet kisses over your face and neck with each word, finishing on a drawl filled “honey piiee,” as he smiled into the crook of your neck making you giggle, and he gasped as the action made you clench around him. His response was to grind his hips into yours.

“Move for me Joel,” you slid one leg up his side to further open yourself to him.

“I’m not gonna last darlin’,” you saw the worry flash across his features.

“I don’t care, I just want to feel you, want to watch you cum for me,”

“Goddammit.” He lunged forward and pushed his tongue into your mouth as he finally started moving his hips. His grunts, your sighs, the sound of skin on skin, with the wet sound of your pussy taking him was a beautiful, pornographic symphony.

“Oh god, oh god you feel so good, fuck,” you pant into his ear as you hold each other close, sweat slick bodies sliding against each other.

“Ngh! Feel so good sweetheart,”

“Fuck yes, your thick cock is perfect. I want you to cum for me Joel, let me see you,” his hips speed up, balls slapping against your backside and his brow is furrowed in concentration.

“Keep talkin’” he stutters out.

“I’ve got you, cum for me baby, give me that big cock and then paint me. Cum all over me,”

“Yes…yes…” he quickly slipped himself out and fisted his slick cock, thick ropes of cum decorating your stomach as he swore and groaned through his release. He looked wrecked, and so fucking sexy, features slack, dark eyes hooded, a thin film of sweat highlighting all of the curves and divots across his chest and shoulders. He supported himself at arm’s length as he caught his breath, shivering as your fingertips danced across his torso.

“That makes two of us,” he chuckled. “Give me a minute and I’ll get you cleaned up,” he rested his forehead against yours.

“You look incredible,” you sit up and kiss him, wiping the disbelieving look from his face. “You do, so strong, so handsome…so fucked,” you grin.

“No need to worry yourself,” you grab a t-shirt and wipe yourself off.

“Hey! That’s mine,”

“So was the mess,” you both chuckle, then soon he’s laid you down and wrapped himself around you, sighing softly as your fingers play in his hair.

#tlou fanfic #tlou fanfiction #joel tlou #tlou x reader #joel miller drabble #joel miller fanfic #joel miller fanfict #joel miller smut #joel miller fanfiction #pedro pascal fanfic #pedro pascal character #pedro pascal character fanfic #pedro pascal fanfiction #smut #oneshot #joel miller one shot #one bed trope #one cabin trope #huddling for warmth #pinv #joel miller x female reader #tlou smut #the last of us fanfiction #the last of us fic #the last of us x reader #joel miller fic #joel miller x reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x fem!reader #joel miller x reader smut

[whumpblr-writes]

"Her Forgotten Destiny" Prologue

Hey! I guess if you're reading this, you've stumbled across my little post! This is an excerpt from my original novel, "Her Forgotten Destiny".

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Do you believe there are superheroes? Ordinarily, I would agree with you that they do not exist. Well, at least not in the way people imagine them. I'm not talking about the kind in the movies, but the kind who are ordinary people like me.

I used to believe superheroes were like fairy tales. They never existed and never will. However, I was wrong. My story was just a reminder of that. My name is Talida Hurst. I am a teenager who received superpowers to fulfill the destiny I was always meant to have. Although it took me a while, because once upon a time, I knew about my fate, but then I forgot about it. Although, I guess everything happens when it's supposed to.

This is my origin story. It wasn't about what I got in the end. It was about the climb I had to take to get to where I am today. The journey was absolutely crazy, but looking back, I wouldn't trade what happened for anything in the world.

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The time had come, and the end was near. I could feel it, but I wasn't scared. Not anymore. I wasn’t afraid to die because they were with me.

My Guardian and my angel.

No one could see them but me. My angel was a girl only a little older than I was. She had pure long wavy blonde hair and pastel blue eyes. She was sent because she was taking me home once I completed my task. My Guardian was a boy who was also just a little older than me. He had messy jet-black hair and gray eyes. He was to protect me until it was time for my angel to take me home, and he was also going to be one of the new Guardians who would take my place once I was gone.

At first, when I discovered what my fate was, I was angry. I wasn't going to measure up, but then I had come to realize that I did all I could. Now, I could only hope she could finish the job when it was her time to do so.

Now, I was chained up against a wall. My enemies gave me twenty-four hours to give in before my time was up, but I wasn't going to budge. I needed to protect the items I was guarding, no matter what the cost was.

Even if that cost was my life.

I hadn't slept for days, which felt like years. I couldn't sleep, not when the men I was fighting wanted to steal the very things I vowed to protect. For a while, I thought I was winning the battle. That is until I was kidnapped.

Fortunately, I hid the items across the country in case of an emergency, just like this one. Only the people they were entrusted with knew each item's location. The only two exceptions to that rule were me and the one who was destined to finish the job and do what I couldn't.

If I refused to surrender the items within the next few hours, my captors were going to torture me until I caved. Even though they didn't say what they had planned, I knew exactly what they were going to do to me.

They were going to electrocute me, which wouldn't be horrible, except that was how I received my superpowers. It was not only the way I received them, but it was also the way I could die.

If the blasts were challenging enough and in the right places, I wouldn't survive longer than a few minutes. Ordinarily, I should have been scared out of my mind, but in some weird way, I'm not.

Anyway, before I could think about anything else, the door opened. At first, I expected to see my captors coming to tell me that my time was up, but shockingly, it wasn't.

"Kara, are you okay?"

I looked up to see my brother standing in the doorway. How could he get in here without the bad guys noticing? "How'd you get in here?" I inquired.

"Easy, superpowers," he replied as he disappeared into thin air.

"Connor?" I asked, but it was no use. He was already gone. I rolled my eyes and let out an annoyed sigh. He always did that. He would answer me but then disappear, "C'mon, this isn't funny, and I don't have time to play games."

A few seconds later, he reappeared. This time, he had a key in his hands. "Who said I was playing games?" he replied, "I was getting the key so I could free you."

"Thanks!" I exclaimed.

"Hold still," he told me as he walked over to my chains, "this will only take a second."

Once Connor had freed me, we began to try to sneak out of the room my captors were holding me hostage in. We could see the exit, but something was blocking it.

"Going somewhere?"

Shoot. I knew who was behind us. I slowly turned around to see one of my captors, and he didn't look happy, because he looked like steam was coming out of his head.

"Run!" Connor told me, but I didn't move. He noticed I wasn't following, "What are you doing?!" He tried to grab my wrist and pull me away, but I wasn't going to move, "We have to go now!"

"No, I can't run, not this time," I protested.

"Oh, what a good girl," my captor said as he approached me and took ahold of my arm.

"Kara!" I heard my brother call out as we disappeared around a corner.

My captor took me into a different room. It had a table with gadgets and tools laid out. The setup kinda reminded me of a science lab from any sci-fi movie. The guy led me to a ledge, which had chains. Now, I was almost out of time, and I wouldn't survive what was next.

"Have you decided what you're doing?" he asked me.

"I'll never tell you!" I spat.

"Then, I guess you know what's next."

He hooked me up to the chains on the wall. He thought I was dumb enough not to know the chains I was being hooked up to were connected to a generator, which was the source of the electricity he would shock me with.

"Now, this is your last chance," he said. "Where are the items?"

"Somewhere where you will never find them."

"Then, if you won't tell me, I hope you said goodbye to your family," he sneered as he neared the generator's controls. He was about to start the machine when someone else spoke up.

"Let her go!"

The man turned to see my brother. He laughed, "And if I don't?" he asked, mocking Connor.

My brother stayed quiet as he didn't have a strong comeback. Once again, the man began to laugh at him. "That's what I thought," he said as he began to fire up the machine once more, "Say goodbye to your sister."

"No!" I heard Connor cry out.

All at once, I felt enormous surges of shock jolt through my body. The first hit wasn't bad, but each one was worse than the last. I knew I couldn't survive much more of this pain. Even though I was beginning to grow weak, I could see Connor trying to reach me.

"Kara, hang on!" he begged, his voice choking with sobs. "Please…"

I tried. I really wanted to hang on for him, but I couldn't. It wasn't in the cards for me to stay alive. I just hated that this was how I had to spend my final moments and for this to be the way that we had to say goodbye.

I felt my eyes fill with lightning; it's light crackling along with the blue of my irises. Sweat dripped off my forehead as I grimaced painfully. Darkened blood pooled in the palms of my hands as the chains dug into my skin. 

It was building. The pressure. It was just too much, even for me. I knew I needed to set it free. The thunder and lightning coursing through my veins were wrecking me from the inside. 

However, I couldn’t allow my powers to run free. Those arches of lightning and thunder emanating from my core would tear this place to the ground and kill anyone within miles. 

If it didn’t destroy me first. 

I gasped, completely out of breath and weak. The energy inside me was rumbling in the back of my throat, threatening to roar like a caged lion in the form of a thunderclap. I needed to hold and keep all this power… 

Inside. 

I could hear the thunder roaring overhead like a twister was going to rip this place to shreds at any moment, but it wasn’t a twister. It was me, and I needed to keep all of my powers under control. 

However, then I felt another surge of electricity course through my veins, and this time, it was worse than the previous times. I tried to clench my jaw and not scream, but it was no use. I let out an ear-piercing wail as I felt my body collapse, which actually ripped the chains out of the wall, and I fell to the ground, gasping for air as pain coursed through every inch of my body. 

My angel was now by my side, but she was only visible to me just like before. She comforted me, telling me that my job was done, and I would soon be rewarded. After she said that, I wasn’t in any more pain, and I knew my job was done and that I was going to a better place where I would never feel pain ever again.

Connor was now by my side. He was able to disconnect me from the chains, but it didn't matter. The damage was done, and it was irreversible. I fell onto the floor under me, and while I was lying there, I began to see a vision.

"Kara… no… please stay with me…." I could hear my brother crying over me.

"It's okay," I whispered, trying to comfort him, "There is another…."

"Another what?" he inquired, clearly confused by my wording.

"There is a girl who will accomplish what I failed to do…." I whispered once more. I could feel some of the last bit of life slipping away. I wasn't fighting it, but I needed to tell Connor what I knew before I died, "Her name is… Talida Hurst."

#superhero #writers on tumblr #books & libraries #whump #book excerpts #destiny

[broadwayandnetflix]

Overprotective, Much? - Bill Hader x Reader

Theme: Fluff + Angst

Warnings: Sexual Terms, Language 

Summary: You and Bill have been secretly dating for two years now, only to complicate things one night when you partake in a very risque sketch unbeknownst to him?

Word Count: 2.8k

A/N: Ahhh Merry Christmas/Happy Holidays! This was a request sent in by @berkmansbabe​ I really hope you enjoy it! And it somehow fits what you were asking for! Have a good rest of your year everyone, hopefully 2021 is better? 

It was nearly four in the morning the last time that you checked, and you were almost half asleep over your laptop. Squinting one eye open, you gazed around the room to find a selection of your coworkers staring at you with little smirks.

"You're drooling, Y/N," one voice calls out; it had to be Mulaney's.

"Okay, you didn't have to tell her that!" another one chimes out, Jost?

Furiously you wipe the drool that was currently dangling from your chin and give the two the meanest glare that you could possibly muster.

At four in the morning, Tuesday's were the worst. Okay, well, technically, it's Wednesday now.

Mulaney only smirked before sliding a post-it note your way. You grimace, reading the details of the message scrawled out in what appeared to be Jost's messy script.

P. G. A. D, weekend update, orgasms onstage.

You practically gape at the note in awe; you were a writer, weren't you the one who was supposed to write this shit? Not perform it.

"Um, I'm not complaining, but isn't this more up Kristen's alley?" you protest, trying not to sound whiny.

"She's on vacation this week, and honestly we think you'd be perfect for it." Jost says matter of factly, giving you a small smile.

"Fine," you sigh before flopping back onto the table to get some more sleep. Earning another chuckle from the boys.

-

It ate at you all week, but I mean, you had the potential. If anyone would understand your feelings, it'd be Hader. His anxiety always got the best of him, and it hurt you to still see the man so stressed and uncomfortable.

Often, you'd be the one to find him after a sketch, rubbing soothing circles into his back. While he stares off rigidly into the curtain, he was fantastic at his job; it just didn't sit well with his anxiety. Although you knew it followed him home, into the late hours of the night, disappointment settling in.

It wasn't public, but the two of you had managed to make things work for the past two years. You had met Bill back when he had first arrived at 30 Rock, as you had gotten hired the same year Mulaney did.

Seth, who was practically your best friend at this point, could tell within an instant that you harbored a small crush for Hader. Often picking at you with little side comments that'd make you stammer and feel your body heat up in embarrassment.

For some time, you didn't even realize that Bill had reciprocated your feelings until he asked you on a date. The two of you curled up back at his place while he showed you some of his favorite movies, it was nice, and the rest was history.

The only problem was, it was safer not letting the rest of the group know about this advancement. God knows what they would do to Bill onstage with sketches...you didn't wanna know.

Alongside the fact that the two of you had quite a bit of an age gap, it wasn't that big, but you knew that Bill often internalized the seven-year gap between the two of you. You were only twenty when you had started at 30 Rock while Bill was twenty-seven. You loved him nonetheless, but you could tell it made him stress a little.

So you both kept it a secret, although you were pretty sure that Meyers and Mulaney knew at this point. While Jost continued to remain oblivious towards your little endeavor.

For this sketch in particular, maybe it was best to keep this one secret as well. Rarely did you ever perform on the show, and you wanted Bill to be proud.

-

Seth, who had been motivating you all week, motioned you into his office early Thursday morning.

"Okay, just spoke to Lorne about this, we're gonna fit you into one more sketch due to Kristen's absence." you nod apprehensively.  

"It's the easiest thing ever, all you have to do is sit there with Franco, and Hader, and read the cue cards about environmental issues. Keenan will cut you off, and you should be good." Seth explains before giving you a quick thumbs-up, causing you to smile slightly.

"God I am so nervous, is that normal?" you admit as Seth sits back into his seat.

"Oh my god yeah, it is not always easy going up onstage like that, but trust me you have the talent and potential. Lorne hired you for a reason, I'm sure if you brought this up to Bill he could give you a few tips on how to release stress." Seth replied as he gave you a warm smile.

You nodded, thanked him for the advice, and began heading back towards the writer's room to help the rest cut the left-over sketches that you all had mulled over during that week. Only to run straight into someone, their hands instantly going out to hold your shoulders steady. 

"Oh I'm so sorry I didn't even see where I was going!" you yelp, only to look up and see Bill trying to hold in a laugh. Only causing you to laugh slightly as well at the situation the two of you were in. 

"You okay?" he asks sweetly after taking in your somewhat frazzled state; without a second thought, you shook your head and went into his arms.

"I'm just stressed," you murmured into his chest as he quickly reciprocated the hug and wrapped his arms tightly around your waist. 

"About what?" he replied softly, his hold growing just a little bit stronger, that is until the two of you heard nearby footsteps and quickly broke away. 

A random production assistant walks past while you and Bill clear your throats awkwardly. 

"Uhm, I am actually going on a sketch this week, you're gonna be in the same one actually. It's with Keenan, I just barely ever go on, since I am a writer, you know?" you exhale softly, only to look back up to Bill. Who is nodding furiously in agreement.

"Oh my god, I mean, you know me," he stops to chuckle, "Y/N, I am a literal mess, I mean don't act like I am totally oblivious to you and John changing the cue cards before Stefon sketches." Bill exclaims as you find yourself beginning to smile.

"I mean, it's really cute seeing you break babe," he fake gasps. "I mean you just make it look so easy sometimes even when I know you're stressing out." Bill sighs slightly before meeting your gaze.

"It's not easy, it never is. It's just you learn how to cope over time, if you want I'll meet you at the end of the sketch. Does that sound okay? Just like you always do for me, which I can never thank you enough for." he says, grinning as you slowly nod in agreement. 

Giving you a quick peck on the forehead, he explains he has to go back to his costume fittings and that he'll see you later in the night. 

He always knew how to help. 

-

You watched anxiously while Seth said the cue that would lead you on stage. Letting yourself take a deep breath, you allowed yourself to block out the situation's overwhelmingness.

 Also, was it always this hot up here? 

With the cue cards coming into focus, you delved into the script, finding yourself ease into it over time. It was comforting to hear the audience laugh at your delivery, often seeing Seth trying to hold back a grin. 

Especially upon the time, you began to describe what made your character Tamara Parks go into orgasms from her specific condition, of Persistent Genital Arousal Disorder. 

"With the help of my physician I was able to find treatment, and today I can say that I am fully-" you let out a moan, trying not to break as you look down. Only to continue on the moaning and the appearance of discomfort as the script goes on. Seth progressively tries not to laugh as well.  

It almost was shocking that you were pretending to be aroused on live national television. Still, clearly, you were doing something right given the reactions that had been intended. 

You began to find yourself grateful for the ability to look down and away from the audience to compose yourself against the fake orgasms you were portraying. Seth's hand leaning to rest upon your shoulder, setting your character's orgasms off even more until the sketch was nearing its finish. The crowd applauded as Seth called you offstage. 

-

You had let out a breath that you didn't even know that you had been holding the minute you had left the stage. Clearly, you had done the job just as Meyers and Mulaney had anticipated, the crowd going wild, it felt nice, but you also felt like you needed a nap. Many of your coworkers had come up to congratulate you, but all you wanted was just to see Bill.

 Except, Bill and Fred were going up to another sketch for Weekend Update, you had asked a production assistant for some water as you took a seat in a nearby corner. It wasn't long before you had spotted Mulaney from out of the corner of your eye, within seconds; his eyes met yours, and he rather awkwardly stumbled over.

You had to stifle your laughter at how ridiculous he appeared in that moment, his rather tall figure colliding with the floor as he slid down beside you. 

"You did fantastic out there! See, I knew you could do it!" he whispered enthusiastically while nudging you playfully in the side.

The two of you commented on the show's progress and or which sketch that you had written was your favorite. Until your stage manager had motioned for you to go on for your second sketch of the night. John gave you a reassuring smile before giving you a little push off into the side wing you were supposed to enter on. 

-

The sketch was going well, that is until you felt an intense stare out of your peripheral vision coming from Bill, who was sitting beside you. Instead, it felt more dominant and tense than comfortable and safe as his thigh began to press up against yours. You gulped slightly before Keenan made his way over to you, feeling Bill's thigh against yours, almost making you lose control. 

The skit's premise was that Keenan's character would never let the guests speak, which was probably a good thing as soon as the cameras went off of you; you had to stifle a moan of your own, a real one. 

You were flustered beyond belief, and you couldn't tell why for the life of you that Bill was screwing with you on live television, but he was, and it was working. Of course, you appreciated the man's dominance but now was clearly not the time, except all you could feel was the heat pooling at the pit of your stomach. 

While you were slightly annoyed with him, something about that leather jacket he was wearing was really turning you on. Or the way he did all of this was genuine ease like he wasn't putting you in complete arousal right now was so intimidatingly hot. 

The crowd's cheering almost caught you off-guard as you realized the sketch was over, and Bill and Franco were getting up to leave the stage. You almost had to steady yourself as your legs felt wobbly and out of place, but you managed to maneuver yourself off the stage with as much grace as you could possibly muster. 

It didn't take long for you to feel Bill's hand slip under yours and tug you along to a back room, his taller figure looming over yours with a side of him that you had never seen before. His lips practically hovering over yours as you inhaled deeply and ultimately tried to compose yourself only to stammer your words a little bit.

"Um, heh, what did you do that for?" you murmured quietly so that only he could hear you.

"You really think I would let you get away so quickly with that sketch, I simply had to remind you that you're mine babe, mine." he growled as he leaned down close to your height, whispering the words in your ear. 

Your breath hitching at the contact, goosebumps spreading directly across your skin, and your heart skipping a beat. Except, you were in public, for crying out loud; why couldn't he have waited to save this for the bedroom later tonight?

"I-um, Bill did you forget that this is sorta a live show?" you retort back, stepping away from his slight hold. It finally hits you all at once, "Wait, Bill, are you jealous of my sketch with Seth?" you quickly ask, his eyes widening before quickly denying it.

"What? No of course not since when do I get jealous Y/N?" he says defensively, only to see you start to form a small grin.

"Oh my god you totally are!" you practically yelp, his eyes staring daggers at you.

"Hader, quick change happening for Daveheart in four minutes!" Bobby calls as he walks past the two of you unbeknownst to the little debacle going on. 

Bill's eyes darting between yours and the dressing room, you sigh and motion for him to go-on for how you would somehow resolve this later. After the door closes behind him, you allow yourself to slide down against the wall once again, trying to compose yourself after everything that had just happened.

-

It doesn't take long for him to find you, this time in a Scottish get-up, you were assuming, and still painfully as ever, you still couldn't help but think that he looked hot, even with his long brown wig. 

He sits down beside you, looking at you with a hesitant look in his eyes. 

"Okay, so maybe I am jealous okay?" he admits quietly, completely catching you off guard. "It's just sometimes I wish we didn't have to have this weird age gap, or have to worry about judgement from others or the press. I guess, just seeing you like that today, it just really made me jealous. Proud of course, I mean babe you killed it out there, I didn't even notice that you were anxious. It's just hearing you moan like that, god that was so hot, the things you do to me." he says, no longer making eye contact as he goes into his little tangent. 

God, you loved him. 

You sigh before wrapping your hands around his, before slowly pushing forward to envelop him in a kiss. He hesitates for a split second before going in at once, his hands reaching up to cup your face deepening the kiss.

It was like a breath of fresh air whenever the two of you had kissed, whether in the late nights after shows and you can see the sunrise. Or in walks home from work, fingers entwined, and quick glances before sneaking a quick kiss, or even just whenever Bill can spare one. 

The two of you pull away, only to catch your breath for a second. Bill's wig now tousled, and his eyes staring at you with admiration that you couldn't help but melt under. 

"You know Bill, I wouldn't change a thing about us. I love you just the way that you are." you say softly, sneaking in a little kiss before pulling away to finish your statement, a small pout grazing his lips. 

"Just maybe not during a live sketch, please?" you giggle softly, his eyes never leaving yours. 

"Hey, Y/N, I just wanted to say that you killed it out there-woah, what's going on here?" Seth calls out, startling the two of you; you moving to jump away before Bill quickly stops you.

"We're dating!" you blurt out randomly, "we have been for the past two years, and its time that we probably tell others about it."

 You clamp your mouth shut, ignoring Bill's jaw-dropping, and focusing on Seth entirely.

"Oh my god I knew it! Mulaney get your ass over here, we've been right this entire time! Hader and Y/L/N have been boning for two years." Seth yells over to John, who was busy cleaning up the cue cards as the show was coming to an end for the night. 

You practically groan, digging your head into Hader's chest in pure embarrassment as Mulaney comes bounding over to cheerfully laugh at your combined misery.

"And to think that Jost said that we were lying about the two of them, guys come on we're gonna go tell Colin!" Seth exclaims, beckoning for the two of you to follow to the writer's room down the hall. 

"Might as well join them," Bill whines as he pulls you off the ground and drags you along after them. 

#@broadwayandnetflix #bill hader imagine #bill hader x reader #bill hader x you #bill hader #fluff #angst #snl #saturday night live #john mulaney #seth meyers #2020 #request

[junova]

↬ 𝐬𝐚𝐟𝐞𝐭𝐲 𝐧𝐞𝐭 | 𝐬. 𝐫𝐨𝐠𝐞𝐫𝐬

abstract: the one where steve finds your love letters.

pairing: au!steve x fem!reader

word count: 3K+

warnings: cussing, fluff, angst, crying, slight self-deprecation.

[author’s note]: hey guys! i’m really new to the writing scene so kind words are appreciated! srsly just testing my writing style out and wanted to just post something to motivate me to keep writing. hope u like it. <3

also thank u ari for the inspo and that bomb ass album that saved twenty-twenty. now we just need biden to get elected.

ps. don’t forget to vote! <3

Stevie,

First and foremost, I want you to know how proud of you I am. You have become the man you’ve said you become, the one I always knew you would. You have finally seen what the rest of us see.

A good man.

The soul you carry within you shines brighter than I’ve ever seen. Just for that only, I’m thankful for the time we’ve spent together. Maybe one day, I’ll be brave enough to tell you this without hiding behind the comfort of this notebook. She won’t spill my secrets, fortunate for me.

Some days you have no idea how badly I want to tell you. I think it’s on the days I discover a new fleck of green in your eyes or maybe when you show up to class with a cup of coffee for me without request.

More. More. More.

More. More. More.

It’s selfish of me, that much I know. More days than not, I would say you give too much of yourself away. Always wanting to appease everyone, you, Steven Rogers, the bridge to making the people around you happier than they walked in. Even when Bucky drags you into his nonsense bullshit, you say yes without hesitation.

I’ve got not a a clue on how you continue on, how you still remain you when you tend to spread yourself so thin. Who watches out for you? Who cares for you? Who loves the almighty, selfless Rogers?

For me, it’s much easier to pretend you carry too much on your plate than to deal with the rejection I would receive from you. You’re just too good, more than I deserve. More than I would be willing to take. I know I couldn’t possibly give you what you deserve but, I hope that one day you might see me differently. You would see me more than the light I’ve painted myself in.

Even though the shade is lovely, I want to be deeper. Deeper into you on a level which only seems unattainable at this point.

A forever friend. To be in your life, just as a friend, is an reward in itself.

But someday I hope you would love me in the same way I do. It’s all a love struck girl could do. Hope for the best, bet be prepared for the downfall.

With much love, your forever friend.

Tearing the page away from the binding of the overfilled notebook, dispensing it in the first empty drawer you could find, you abandoned the feelings as soon as the pen’s ink bleed out dry.

“You know it would just be easier to tell him how you feel.” You peaked up at the sound of her voice, before realizing she was looming over you, watching your write the letter.

Your supposed, secret letter.

“Nat, please. No.” Opening the drawer, she grabbed the letter but was surprised with just how many she found.

“You’ve got to be kidding me. You’ve written about him multiple times?” You sank in the soft, plush material of your seat hoping that just maybe it would begin to swallow you whole. Hopefully, fast enough were you wouldn’t have to endure the rest of the conversation. One you had been trying to avoid, for the past three years.

“It’s nothing Nat, just forget it.” Just like a Romanov, she couldn’t leave it alone. Even if she tried it was laced in her blood to see any little thing through.

“You really shouldn’t wait so long. A window might close for you, much sooner than you think.” With a curious eyebrow lifted, you felt your breath leave you.

“What does that supposed to mean?” Steve certainly deserved the best and you knew it was only time for him to figure out you would never be enough for him.

“Peggy Carter.” Peggy.

The one girl of a sea of many who had been enamored by Steve. He never really seemed to spend anytime with the women who vied for his attention, but Peggy was surely different than the rest.

Even if Steve was oblivious when it came to the advances everyone would make on him, he saw Peggy. Considering she was the most beautiful woman you had ever seen, she intimidated you. God, did she ever.

On numerous occasions she and Steve had gone out, and even though he assured you they were just friends you were starting to believe he was only trying to protect your feelings. As a friend.

He had never cancelled on you once for her and he would tell you if he had started to date someone, just like he had before.

Even though the entire three years you’d known him he only had one serious girlfriend and after eight months, the pair broke up and even now he still didn’t budge on why they broke up.

“Steve can do whatever he wants with her. He’s a single man. He’s gone out with her before and he’ll probably go with her again.” Then Sam was the next to speak up, dismissing the total bullshit spouting from your mouth.

“Can’t you see he doesn’t want to? The damn man follows you around like a goddamn puppy.” Okay, when did he even come in here?

“God, fuck, no he doesn’t. He would have said something by now, he’s had three years and it’s been nothing but radio silence.” With an all knowing smirk, Sam proposed a new concept into question.

“It has been three years. So, have you ever said anything to him?”

Shit. Fuck you, Wilson.

“W-Well, not exactly.” Sam didn’t have to say anything in response. You knew he was right and you hated it.

Your unwillingness still stood for you, there was just no way he actually would reciprocate your feelings.

“Listen, I think it would be really good for the both of you to air everything out. Peggy is sinking her claws in him and it isn’t too long before they get stuck. Just talk to him.” You nodded silently, but you weren’t sure if you’d ever have the courage to.

—

Emptiness.

It’s all you seemed to feel today. Following you around was a dark cloud, looming over you. Wishing you could be anywhere but your own body. Nothing in particular happened to make you deserve the feeling you were granted with. It just so happened to be one of those days.

From the moment you got out of bed — or rather stayed in bed until four in the afternoon, you felt like anything you would have done just didn’t feel enough. The feeling was fleeting, never staying for more than a day or so, but it made the day drag on. Never ending.

Your muscles sore, body aching from the lack of activity your presumed. Or maybe you had built it in your head too.

Thankfully for you, Nat was busy helping Bucky move into his new place the entire day. She asked if you wanted to help, but mentally you didn’t feel you would be useful for anyone. Simply, telling her you would hang back, claiming you had another an essay to write.

Which you did, you weren’t completely lying, but there was more than your sour mood to blame for your dismissal of social interaction.

You hated to be that girl, the one who needed the presence of men. Specifically, the company of one very beautiful, blue eyed one.

His absence in your life the past few weeks felt heavier on you than you thought it would. You knew from Sam’s intel he had been hanging out with Peggy more and more. He said the two of them were getting close, mercifully sparing you the details.

You hated it’s you’d become. A girl so damn struck over a boy who was giving his attention elsewhere. Upset you were though. Before even if he was busy between classes and his internship at the gallery, he would still text to check up on you.

Now, it was nothing but radio silence letting you draw conclusions on your own. Very, very dangerous territory for you to travel to.

Steve and you are just friends. Get. Over. It.

You thought you’d be alone the rest of the Saturday, especially since it was nearly midnight. Figuring Nat was staying over at Bucky’s and Wanda leaving earlier in early hours of the morning to see her boyfriend for the entire weekend.

Then, an incredibly drunk Steve stumbled into your quaint apartment, the thoughtfully sweetness in him blubbering out with the alcohol flooding through his system. It was like he was on overdrive. More than ready to crash at any given moment.

You had enough when Steve started shamelessly raiding your kitchen, but you remained on the couch attempting to maintain some distance between the two of you. He had a history of being incredibly handsy whenever he had bit too much to drink.

Stumbling his way over to you, almost tripping on the rug, until he was basically cuddling up to your side. His arms latched tightly around you, pulling you into him. Not spared a choice, not that you’d want one.

The security of being wrapped up to him wasn’t something you ever grew tired of. You don’t think there would ever be a time you would ever be capable of turning him away.

“I’ve missed you. It’s been too long.” His soft tone, penetrating the tiny resistance you held towards him. “Me too. I was starting to think you disappeared on me, bubba.”

“Never.” His iron grip holding so tight like he was afraid you’d slip right through.

“Is everything alright?” Trying to pull from him, but Steve seemed unable to let you go. You whispered in his ear, caressing his back.

“I think so.”

“Here, let me grab you cup of joe and some water. Okay? I’ll be right back.” Leaving him a kiss on the cheek, before heading him into the kitchen.

If you had been around him recently, perhaps you would be more in tune with how he was feeling. Then the guilt sept in.

“Sweetheart, do you know where the phone charger is? It’s not by the recliner.” You heard him shout, trying to stop your heart from hammering into your stomach.

Just make him some coffee, sober him up, until he crashes.

Steve always seemed to be a lightweight and somehow whenever he did decide to drink he always found himself routing his way into your home. You thought it was simply for accident alone. The bar he frequented at was only a few block from you.

The past few times he would just stumble into your bedroom, immediately passing out in your soft, silky sheet. Now, he seemed to have more pressing matters at hand.

“Check the drawers, Stevie. I think there’s one you left around here somewhere.” You grabbed the filters and the grounds out, brewing the coffee. Soon, with a black cup of coffee and a water bottle in hand you took note of just how quite he was being.

He was never this silent and it was freaking you out.

“Are you sure you’re o-”

Just like that.

Fuck.

Hunched over, practically on his knees, he read over the endless letters you wrote about him. Confessions never meant to be seen by him. You lost track of how many you had written over the past few years once realized how irrevocably in love with him you are.

He didn’t realize you had found him and you were suddenly paralyzed. Unaware of your presence he continued to read through them and his expression was unrecognizable. One you’d never seen from him before, and you didn’t quite know how to react.

No. He wasn’t grimacing nor did he seem to be elated either. He just stood there just like you, afraid what would happen next.

What did this mean for the two of you? Your entire relationship was purely riding on whatever happened next.

Softly, with a gentle hand, he sifted through them all like he was looking for something specifically. Steve let them fall to the hardwood floors as your shaking hands could no longer support the weight of the dainty coffee cup he had actually sculpted himself.

The glass shattering everywhere, several pieces making their way towards him, thankfully not fiercely enough to penetrate his skin.

Truly, you had never been more sorry than when he looked up at you with tears in his eyes. Threatening to spill over. Because of you.

You didn’t have to be told, you already knew.

Carefully, Steve stood up making his way over to you around the shattered mug. Still you couldn’t bring yourself to move. Simply just watching him until he was right in front of you — more silent than you’d ever seen him before.

“Those were about me. Weren’t they?” You nodded having no reason to lie other than to protect yourself from a rejection you been hoping to spare yourself from.

“I didn’t want you to find out like this. Or at all really.” Your resolve dropping instantly when Steve took a step further gripping by your hips, pulling you closer.

“Why not?” He questioned you, again. Almost like he needed a verbal affirmation of every secret he had just read.

Unintentionally, stealing your soul served for him on a silver platter.

“I know how you’d feel about me, Steve. It’s not how I want it to be and it’s okay.” You remove yourself from him, traveling to the other side of the living room. Suddenly, the apartment seemed suffocating with him in it. “I’m fine, Steve.”

Hearing him sigh in frustration only furthered your immense feeling of being a burden to him.

You’re just one more obstacle he has to deal with.

“One of them dated back for over two years ago. Two fucking years.” His harsh tone, piercing through you like a knife.

“I know. I should have told you.” You whispered, wishing you could disappear into any abyss that would take you. Deeply wishing you just didn’t have to endure for the rest of this conversation. Wishing you could have stopped him from opening that stupid drawer. “I tell you everything, but I just couldn’t bring myself to speak about this. Look at how you’re reacting? How could you blame me when every fear I have about this is justified?”

You really should have kept those elsewhere, not your open, public living room.

“Because it’s us. I’m always here for you.” He was still crying through broken words and you didn’t know why. Almost like you had shattered his resolve and his control leaving with it.

“Not lately. You’ve been otherwise occupied.” Suddenly find the plant in the corner of the room. It certainly weren’t trying to distract yourself from the insatiable cerulean eyes.

The breathtaking british woman wasn’t even here and as soon as she was brought up — there was a wall. Seperating, you from whatever was between the two of you.

“This isn’t my fault. You never said anything. How was I supposed to know you feel that way about me?” He tried to make his way towards you but you just stalked off in the other direction. Circling around the living room like a coward.

“It didn’t matter though, did it? You found someone perfect for you regardless of how you feel.” God, you wish he would just leave so you could let the dam break.

“No. You don’t get to do that. Since the moment I met you I only had eyes for you, but you never seemed like you were interested. So, I dropped it. Okay? You never left me a crumb to think you would ever want to be more than just friends.”

“You were my best friend. You still are. No matter how I felt, it could never outweigh the need I have for you to be in my life.” He sighed, rubbing his hands over his face. Trying to figure out what was next for the both of you. Steve always had to initiate and this time was no different.

“Peggy told me tonight she wants to be exclusive.” His confession washing over you like a ton of bricks. Crushing you.

You really couldn’t have any ill feeling towards her, she was just doing what you lacked the courage and the tenacity to do.

“But I didn’t really know what to do.” He took quiet steps towards you, not wanting to spook you. He voice not no longer held the a warmth of teddy bear, but a man on a mission rather took over.

Steve kept quiet until he had you backed up into a corner, no escape route in vision for you.

“’Cause there’s this other beautiful woman, absolutely breathtaking — and I just I really needed to know how she felt. If I had known before,  I never would have gone anywhere else.” His hand caressing your soft, plump lips. Pulling on your bottom lip with his thumb, sending you into a frenzy.

“Then, I just wanted to forget about everything until Sam called me. Three beers deep, when he told me of a drawer filled with letters I should take a look at.” You could feel his breath on you, temple pressed against yours.

“I just need to hear you say it. Just once.” Taking it a step forward, intertwining your finger with his own.

“I love you.” It was all he needed as he sealed his own affirmation with a sweet kiss, inking your lips with all of his love.

#for the love of god let these tags work :/ #steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x reader fluff #steve rogers x reader angst #steve rogers fluff #steve rogers angst #steve rogers one shot #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers au #college!steve rogers #au #mcu #mcu fanfiction #fanfiction

[florrickandassociates]

TGF Thoughts: 5x06- And the two partners had a fight...

I’ve been waiting for this episode for nearly a decade, and I didn’t even realize it. More under the cut. 

(This is very long! Please fight me on stuff and disagree because I just wrote all these words about this episode and I STILL want to talk about it more, it was that interesting!) 

This is the second episode in a row to start off with a TikTok video. 5x02 and 5x03 both ended with elevators. Is there some sort of pattern they’re going for here?  

This case—which is, it’s important to note, in Wackner’s court—is about TikTok content creators and copyright laws. Probably not enough material for a full case, but definitely an interesting theme to explore.

Marissa doesn’t have her laptop volume off (which I suppose makes sense; she was just playing the TikTok videos) and a notification sounds. She shuts the laptop.

Wackner rules that the profits made from the TikTok dance must be split evenly between the guy who stole the dance for his video game and the creator. The thief does not like this, removes his moose costume (oh, yeah, did I mention they’re in costumes again?), and starts shouting that he’s going to sue and then moons the whole court. Okay!

He follows through on his threat, and next thing we know, Liz, Cord, Wackner, and Marissa are meeting to discuss strategy.

Liz’s computer makes the same noise Marissa’s did; she punches some keys.

Liz points out that Wackner’s biggest problem is that real judges are not going to like Wackner playacting as a judge. “I’m not playing a judge. I am a judge,” Wackner says. Liz notes that Wackner’s court lacks any way of forcing people to comply with his rulings, but real court can shut him down.

I guess whatever keys Liz punched did not silence the annoying notification sound.

She asks Wackner to try not to become the focus of the court case, since that’s how they’ll lose. “This is why I started a court,” Wackner says after Liz instructs him to only answer yes or no and to wear a suit.  

Liz asks Marissa to keep Wackner in line. She says she’ll try.

Now we are at the Black Lawyers Association, where there’s a panel with leaders from Chicago’s four top black law firms. For reasons passing understanding, DIANE is on this panel. This makes absolutely no sense (I mean, unless only white people were involved in this decision, and even then!) and I’ll only excuse it because they mention later that it makes no sense for Diane to have been on this panel.  

I wonder why everyone else’s firm gets named but not Diane’s.  

Diane also gets the first question, which is, pointedly, about opportunities for black lawyers. Her phone starts making the annoying notification sound. Ever heard of silent mode??  

The annoying sound happens every five seconds at the RL offices. According to David Lee, it happens twenty times an hour, but it seems like more than that! He, for some reason, goes to Carmen to ask how to stop the sound. He also wants to know what it is. Carmen explains that it is “Dawnk” which is a new messaging system within the company.  

On Dawnk, you can talk about anything you want and be anonymous. Who approved this?! In one frame, I can see there’s someone complaining about someone being promoted too fast because of “the future is female bs.” In another, someone is upset that they are anonymous and wants to use their real name (only Jay, who is otherwise absent from this episode, seems to have figured out how to turn this anon mode off).

Sorry, before I can get on board with this plot, I just need to note for the record how phenomenally stupid the idea of using anonymous messaging software within a company is. This was obviously not going to end well! It’s like workplace YikYak... (remember YikYak?!)  

David Lee hates the idea of a messaging software; Carmen says the associates prefer this.  

Jay is being very nice in the chat and defends the person who was promoted “too fast”.

“Who’s ‘Anonymous Crab’?” David Lee asks. Well, I think the fact they are “anonymous” should be a bit of a hint there, David.  

Anonymous Crab asks, “How the hell did this happen??! How did Diane end up at a Black Conference speaking for our firm?” Good question, Anonymous Crab.

Anon Crab also shares a video and David Lee doesn’t understand how to press play. Carmen plays it for him. Diane looks really awful on the panel. No shit! David Lee seems to enjoy Diane looking bad, even though he should be able to connect the dots between Diane looking bad and potential for bad things to come for the firm...  

Not only does Diane get quizzed about why she’s running a firm that is still insisting on calling itself a black firm, she also gets questions about her insurrectionist husband. “He was completely cleared of those charges,” Diane notes. Oh, hey!!!!! Remember how last week I said I’d be more surprised if that was the end of the FBI nonsense than if it continued? I am surprised!! And relieved. Mostly relieved. Dealing with the consequences of that high profile, relationship-straining ordeal is so much more interesting to me than any FBI machinations.  

Next Diane is asked if Kurt just took a job to revitalize the NRA. She hasn’t heard of this yet. I’m glad she’s getting grilled on this stuff... it is about time.  

There’s a hint that Carmen will be representing Mr. Rapey next week. I assume that’s why there’s a line where David checks in with Carmen on Mr. Rapey’s case?  

Anon Platypus says, “I heard she didn’t even have seniority. She just jumped past other black partners to become our name partner. It’s crazy!!!” Anon Platypus is correct—technically. Diane was a name partner at one of Chicago’s top firms before joining RL, so while she skipped the line... that doesn’t seem to me like the PRIMARY issue in bringing her on. The primary issue is that bringing on someone that senior from outside the company is more similar to a merger than a promotion, and Diane’s partnership meant changes for the firm.  

Other anonymous animals also don’t like Diane. One calls her clueless; another says that “Liz needs to do something about this.” Someone responds to that, “Liz will never do it on her own,” which is an interesting sentiment I want to come back to in a little bit.  

“What is Black Twitter?” David Lee asks Liz out of the blue. “People on Twitter who are black and talk to each other,” Liz responds. David Lee asks how he can find it. “I could tell you, but then I’d have to kill you,” Liz jokes. And to think Jay said Liz wasn’t funny!  

The Dawnk conversation shifts and now everyone’s ragging on Julius for representing Kurt and just generally being a Trump voter. There’s a lot of heated and racial language I’m not going to type here, enough to make Julius spit out his coffee and storm down to the associate floor.

He goes to Devin, who I’m not sure if we’ve seen before but is high ranking enough to have Lucca’s old office, to get information on the anonymous posts.

Anonymous Bison says, “Unpopular opinion: I blame Adrian.” Hey, Anon Bison, let’s be friends! I am with you. Adrian is the one who brought Diane on, who encouraged them to lean into Julius’s Trump connections, and who pushed the firm to pursue profit over everything else. Diane and Julius aren’t blameless (though I don’t actually think defending Kurt is a bad thing) but if there’s someone who actively strategized to make RL what it is today? Adrian all the way.  

In what world does noting that Julius is pissed in an anonymous message do ANYTHING to stop people who are pissed at him? If they were that concerned about him being pissed they wouldn’t have said anything in the first place.  

Liz and opposing counsel talk over each other in court until the judge makes them stop. I think we’ve seen both the judge and opposing counsel this season, making me wonder if there’s a bit of a COVID bubble situation going on here with the guest stars.  

Judge Farley jokes about “contempt cards” that go up in value and Wackner, of course, is all, “Wow, I really love that.”  

Liz, whose entire strategy was to not let on that anyone calls Wackner a judge, refers to Wackner as “Judge Wackner.” Come on, Liz! (I buy that she’d slip up—there's no one in the world I wouldn’t believe slipping up—but ugh!)  

How did the opposition not realize that they could make this about Wackner’s “crazy court” by referring to him as Judge Wackner? You’d think they’d be all over that.  

Judge Farley looks SO unhappy that Wackner would refer to himself as a judge; it’s phenomenal.  

Now Marissa stumbles over stuff because she’s, for some reason, speaking in court. I bought Liz’s dumb moment more.  

The plaintiff’s strategy is to make it look like Wackner is of unsound mind, and they’ve got video evidence. Remember how Del, Cord, and Wackner all chatted in the RL elevator? Well, turns out that lead to a reality show about Wackner for Del’s streaming service. Sounds about right.  

I don’t really think Wackner cares about attention or anyone else’s motivations... I think he just likes the idea of budget and an audience and a platform.  

Liz meets Del for a romantic dinner and asks him when he was going to tell her about Wackner’s show. Del doesn’t understand why she’s upset. He doesn’t get why he would’ve needed her permission to go into business with Wackner. (I don’t think he’s wrong from a business POV, but from a relationship POV, he totally should’ve let her know!)  

Liz says he should’ve asked because they’re using it against her in court. “That is unfortunate, baby, but this streaming show could be really good for Wackner. It’ll draw attention to his court. And... as I say that...that sounds... okay, look I’m sorry,” Del realizes. I like that he sees that Liz has a point. He goes on to note that he would be totally open to Liz trying to go into business with any of his acquaintances, and I think he genuinely means it.  

Del notes that this is what “power couples” do. Oh? So they’re an official couple? Don’t power couples also associate in public and not hide their relationship from their colleagues?  

This is the place where I note, yet again, that it is always going to be more interesting to see a relationship that feels realistic than to see a relationship that feels like it takes place in a vacuum.  

Liz doesn’t want Wackner becoming popular. Del argues someone else would’ve made the show if he didn’t, and that “disrupters gotta disrupt.” Oh God.  

Are we going to remember that Liz has a child at any point this season?  

Diane is reading the Dawnk discussion at home. It’s still lively even after work hours. The associates appear to be discussing the vaccine before someone changes the topic to “the Diane situation.”

One associate notes that the partners probably aren’t happy about Diane either and just have to vote her out. Kurt arrives home as Diane reads this, reacts to the loud music Diane has playing, the open alcohol, and her general demeanor and asks if they’re getting drunk. “Are we getting a job with the NRA?” she counters.  

Turns out it’s not entirely untrue about Kurt and the NRA. They want him for a new role. It would pay $167,000. I can’t decide if I think that’s a lot (objectively that’s a high salary) or not very much at all (isn’t Kurt the top of his field?)  

Kurt notes he doesn’t have a job so he’s considering it. “Diane, our politics are very different,” he starts. “I know,” Diane says. “I’m, lately, struck by just how different they are.”

“I would just like one week when I don’t have to defend you,” Diane says in frustration. Kurt doesn’t even know what that means at the current moment.  

“You’ll tell me when they offer you the job?” Diane asks. “They may not offer it,” Kurt says. “No, they will,” Diane says, because she knows that it’s basically a done deal already.  

In the middle of the night, Diane turns to Kurt and tries to ask him a question. That wakes him up. She asks who he voted for in 2020 and he doesn’t answer. Uh oh.  

Dreaming now, Diane sits up and asks, “Hello? What do I do?” More on that later...

The HR nightmare known as Dawnk is still going wild the next day at the office. (Seriously, with HR that strict, the anon feature would’ve been disabled the second the first semi-controversial comment was posted.) Everyone’s obsessed.  

The partners, minus Diane, all gather in Liz’s office to discuss Dawnk (and the topics of conversation on Dawnk). Madeline says they should ignore it. I say they should make STR Laurie shut it down and be the bad guy. It is nonsensical that this workplace would continue to allow Dawnk to continue! In addition to being an HR nightmare, it’s also a drain on productivity if everyone’s constantly glued to it, and I imagine STR Laurie cares about profit more than anything else.  

But like I really don’t get why Madeline says they can’t censor their associates. Of course they can shut down the app if they want to! Someone put the app there in the first place, no? I do understand not wanting to look like you’re violating free speech (even though taking away anonymous commenting in the workplace would not be a violation of free speech) but I highly doubt it would be only the partners complaining. Tina, whose promotion was called into question, would be complaining too. Anyone trying to get work done, or anyone who didn’t like the toxic culture, or anyone who was uncomfortable with a joke made, would be complaining. There are more than enough reasons it would be perfectly acceptable to take the anon commenting away.

Now the partners are fighting about Kurt’s case too. “Diane is not responsible for her husband,” Liz says when Madeline says that Diane should’ve known better than to get involved. Um, Liz, Madeline is right. Diane isn’t responsible for Kurt’s actions but she’s sure as hell responsible for volunteering to represent him.  

“In the real world of this firm, Diane’s billable hours speak for themselves,” Liz notes when a partner tries to call Diane’s unsavory associations into question.  

“The rest of us put in the hours too, for the record,” notes another partner. I’m sure... but do you put in DIANE’S hours and have DIANE’S client list? My guess is no. If Diane weren’t the biggest earner at the firm we wouldn’t be having this debate. She’d just be gone. She’d never have been at the firm to begin with.  

“Liz, when I joined this firm, it was because of your father’s legacy. It was about Black civil rights, activism, justice. That’s what people talked about in meetings. Now, people talk about billable hours, million-dollar clients, corporate payouts. Now, I know it’s not your fault. That was Boseman’s vision and we were trying to survive the Trump years by bringing in white lawyers, but those days are gone. They’re done with. And I miss being a strong black firm,” Madeline says. Everyone but Liz (and probably Julius) seems to agree with that.

This is one of many interesting facets of this issue. When Madeline argues against Diane, she’s not just arguing that she wants a black person running the firm for optics. She’s not saying that Diane-but-black would be an acceptable choice. She is saying she wants RL to be the firm it was at the very very start of the show—a firm committed to social justice, not maximizing revenue. A firm that didn’t just accept every client that came their way because they love profit. A firm that stood for something. So my question is: Does Liz want that firm?  

Liz is hard to read throughout this whole plot, and I think that may be intentional. Liz isn’t a manager by training—she was an AUSA who suddenly became a name partner at a firm (if you want to talk about seniority and skipping the line, Liz is a way better example than Diane—you can even through some nepotism, twice over, in there). She doesn’t seem to have a clear goal for her firm other than maintaining the status quo and keeping power. Liz not taking a stronger stance from the start (either accepting that they are no longer going to be a social justice-oriented firm or pushing to get them back to that place) allows these kinds of questions to fester. It’s my hope that this becomes text instead of subtext pretty soon, ‘cause this is the kind of thing that if it’s subtext for too long will start to feel like bad writing/Liz being conveniently clueless. It’s way more interesting if Liz is just not yet good at being a manager... because she is learning on the job.  

Anyway. I think the ideal solution here is probably that Diane and Liz continue to run RL: A STR Laurie Company (the fact they’re owned by corporate overlords kind of makes any decision about RL’s mission moot) since Diane wants to do that and Liz seems to be content where she is. Madeline and the other partners, instead of trying to force STRL to let them pursue the cases they want, can accept pay cuts and go start their own firm. Maybe they can even team up with Barbara Kolstad!  

None of that’s to say that the dilemma here is easily solvable, nor is it to say that Diane shouldn’t consider stepping down. I’ll say more on that later. My point here is just that this issue is much deeper than just if Diane is on the letterhead or not. As long as they’re owned by STR Laurie and have clients like Rivi, Diane stepping aside would just be a band-aid.  

(And that, I think, is intentional... they’ve been building the “why are we even representing x?” tension pretty consistently this season, so I imagine it’s on the writers’ minds.)  

Diane stumbles across the secret partner’s meeting and knows something’s up.  

“You gotta handle this, Liz. You cannot have a white partner leading a black firm. We’ll lose clients with that kind of hypocrisy” Madeline insists after Diane heads back to her office. I’ve already said it, but just to say it in a less rambly way: Madeline is right, but she’s right IF AND ONLY IF the goal is to be a black firm. So, Liz, is it?  

(They’ll lose clients, sure, but which ones? They’ll lose the clients Madeline wants while Diane continues to keep bringing in business and Rivi and Cord and Wolfe-Colman and their elk* stay put.)  

*I know this is not the correct word; see 6x17 of TGW

David Lee has also noticed the meeting in Liz’s office and thinks this may be the “beginning of the end.” Diane glares at him and he says he was just joking.

Diane schedules a meeting with Liz. Liz’s assistant doesn’t know Diane by voice, adding to her frustration.

Credits! We are 22 minutes in! This might be a record if 5x01 hadn’t saved the credits til the very end!  

I’ve already written more than I did last week by a couple hundred words.  

Two interesting things about the credits. First, this episode was written by Aurin Squire. Forgive me if I’ve mentioned this in a prior recap (I know I thought about it but can’t remember if I deleted), but I think Aurin Squire and Davita Scarlett are key to why TGF and Evil are both always so good. They’re the two writers other than the Kings who are in both the TGF and Evil rooms, and they both REALLY seem to be on the same wavelength as the Kings. I imagine that having four people who are in both rooms helps with managing both at basically the same time.  

(This isn’t where I wanted to go with this bullet point, but I may as well shout out how great Evil is this season, too! It also just aired an episode by Aurin Squire about the lead white female character realizing her privilege!)  

Second, this episode was directed by Brooke Kennedy. I didn’t know that going in, but seconds before the director credit popped up, I was thinking to myself, “this episode feels like it’s going to be a very important one. I bet Brooke directed it.” I was very pleased to see her name appear.  

(For anyone who doesn’t know, Brooke is an EP who’s been involved in nearly every episode of both Wife and Fight and she tends to direct important episodes that require a lot of familiarity with the characters. She directed 5x15 of The Good Wife and she’s done a bunch of the premieres and finales that Robert King hasn’t claimed for himself.)  

Diane and Liz meet in a bar to catch up. Diane’s still staring at Dawnk. Liz takes her phone and silences the notifications. “Who thought that sound was pleasing?” Diane complains. “All day in court today,” Liz commiserates. Carmen had to teach her how to silence the notifications. Liz, you’re using an iPhone, there is a very easy to use switch that silences your phone, like you would need to for court. I know you know this.  

(I think Diane, despite her complaining about the sound, is captivated by Dawnk.)  

Liz orders soda water instead of a drink. I assume that’s intentional, perhaps because she knows this isn’t going to be an easy conversation or a long night of drinking? She has wine in an earlier scene.  

I love that Liz and Diane chat about Dawnk even though there’s no real plot reason for them to spend this much time discussing it. Little moments like this make me believe Liz and Diane are actually colleagues who get along well and make management decisions together.  

Diane asks if Liz thinks Dawnk actually increases productivity. Liz laughs—she does not. But she knows the associates would “riot” if they got rid of it. She’s right. I still think they can get rid of it without too much blowback. But at least they’re acknowledging this.  

“What do the partners think?” Diane asks, very intentionally shifting the subject. You can hear it in Christine’s voice and see it in her body language—Diane is looking for an opportunity to talk about what she wants to talk about.

“God, Madeline can’t even open it. She’s lost her password three times. She finally just gave up,” Liz says. This is concerning! Madeline should know how to open an app! Probably not unrealistic, though. When you’re that senior, you probably don’t need to know how to use a messaging app. And messaging apps can be confusing sometimes. Like, I still don’t understand how to use Discord.  

The captions have a line I can’t hear in this scene—Liz (I presume?) saying “You know, ‘cause it’s Madeline.” This makes it sound like Madeline is a little less than competent, no?  

“Thanks for sitting down with me, Liz,” Diane says in a quite serious tone. “Of course. So, you’re wondering about the meeting today?” Liz immediately understands. “I am.” “Yeah. Uh, it was about Julius. He’s being harassed on Dawnk,” Liz explains.

“Okay, and I couldn’t be a part of that?” Diane wants to know. “He’s being harassed because he’s defending your husband,” Liz explains. Diane doesn’t seem surprised (perhaps because she, too, would have read these messages?). “Well, that’s unfortunate. We’ve represented people far worse than Kurt, who, by the way, was found innocent,” Diane argues like they’re having a very different conversation. It’s one thing to represent rapists and murderers and drug lords—and I’d argue that the same people pissed about Kurt are also pissed about them!-- and another for your leadership to be married to/close friends with someone who you believe participated in the events of 1/6.  

“I’m not saying it wasn’t. But, January 6th. I mean, we watched the Confederate flag make its way into the Capitol building. You know, those people that Kurt didn’t want to turn over to the FBI, those people. They don’t even want us alive,” Liz says better than I ever could. I think it’s important that Liz mentions a POV that likely wouldn’t have ever crossed Diane’s mind here. This is a small glimpse of why it could be so important to have black leadership at a black firm. Would Diane be thinking about the implications of having the Confederate flag in the Capitol? Probably not in the same way that Liz instantly does.  

“Well, not all of them,” Diane Lockhart, who is suddenly an idiot, says. Liz looks at her drink and grimaces, and Diane realizes she’s said something wrong. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean that. I’m certainly not defending those people. They’re all despicable traitors.”

“And now, that’s what people are saying about Julius,” Liz explains. “And me?” Diane asks, though she already knows the answer. Liz doesn’t want to answer that. Before she can say anything, Diane asks if she’s being pushed out.  

“No. Not pushed out. You’re a name partner. You can’t be pushed out,” Liz clarifies. Diane knows there’s a but. “The partners just think you should do the right thing,” Liz adds.

“And step aside?” Diane asks. “No. Stay in the firm. Stay as an equity partner, just step back from your managerial role,” Liz says. Diane pauses. “Liz, I... I pull in the big clients. I... I get the billable hours. But still, ‘maybe you should step aside.’ Weren’t we going to form a firm led by women?” Diane argues. Oh, wow, I have so much to say.

First, I completely understand why Diane doesn’t want to give up her title or her power. She's Diane Lockhart! She’s been one of the best in her field for decades. She’s not wrong about the clients and billable hours. It’s just that every time Diane decides to be at this firm, making arguments about how she should retain her role in power, she’s saying that she values her own career/appearance more than the values she claims to care about. And every time she refuses to take a back seat or threatens to walk rather than sacrifice, she’s saying she’ll only through her weight behind her colleagues and their mission if she gets credit for it. To be clear, I don’t think it would be the shittiest decision in the world if Diane decided to walk, to take her clients to a new firm and to let RL become the firm Madeline and the rest envision. It’s asking a lot of her to give up that power and prestige. The interesting part of this dilemma is, to me, that Diane claims to value working for RL and to be active in the fight against racism... but the second she’s forced to choose between that fight and her own power, we all know what Diane is going to choose. There was never really any doubt. Diane doesn’t have to be on the forefront of this fight if she doesn’t want to... but she can’t claim to be invested in the fight if she isn’t willing to sacrifice, at all.

Second, LMAO at this firm led by women idea. Every time Diane talks about her firm led by women idea it sounds sillier! Not because a firm led by women is silly, but because Diane has a habit of saying this like it is a shared goal and each time she references it, it sounds less and less intersectional. For example, when she says it here, she’s essentially saying a firm led by women only has meaning if one of those women is a white woman (specifically a white woman named Diane Lockhart). Who’s to say that Madeline wouldn’t be made partner in Diane’s absence? Or Barbara (haha) or someone else we haven’t met? There is a very real possibility that Liz and another woman could run the firm and Diane would still be unhappy about it. Diane doesn’t ask Liz for a commitment that if she does step aside, her replacement would be female (idk if it’s legal to make this commitment but you get my point). Diane acts like asking her to step aside is already a betrayal of the female led firm.  

“And I hope that it will be,” Liz says, basically hinting to Diane that there are women in the world besides her.  

“But black women?” Diane says, agitatedly. “Diane, I... am not voting against you. I promised you that I wouldn’t. But there is growing anger here. They want to address it at the next partners' meeting. So just think about it,” Liz responds.

I think Liz is totally fair and forthcoming in this scene and strikes pretty much the right tone for this initial conversation. She gives Diane a choice and is honest with her.  

“You’re a good person,” Liz adds. Diane does a double-take, understanding that Liz is actually telling her “You are a good person, so you know that you absolutely need to step aside.”  

“No, I’m not!” Diane responds. As I said: Diane already knows what she is going to do. She needs to do mental gymnastics to excuse her actions, but her mind was made up before the question was even raised. (She did warn Liz in 5x01 she was going to fight any attempt to push her out.)

“Yes, you are,” Liz says again. She may as well be saying, “No, don’t try this. Everyone will think you’re in the wrong if you push this.”

Later, at home, Diane is doing some stretches on the floor and groaning. I don’t know if this scene is meant to show her age, but it does remind me that Diane is nearly 70 and started off this show by planning to retire. Retirement doesn’t seem to be an option for her here. (That’s fine by me; she is a workaholic whose career is her life.)

Kurt asks Diane what she wants to do. She says she wants to keep her name on the letterhead and “keep what I fought for.” Heh, I was just re-reading something I wrote about Cary a while ago and I’d pointed out that when Alicia and Cary discuss merging with what’s left of LG, Cary is also concerned about his name on the letterhead because even though he wants to change the world, he also cares about having power. It’s almost like Diane and Cary are really similar characters! (They are! That’s why the Diane/Cary moment in Hitting the Fan is so good!)  

Diane calls her position as name partner a fight against “gender and then age discrimination.” She isn’t wrong, especially when you consider how meaningful it likely was when she and Stern went into business together. It’s very easy for me to forget that when Diane has such an attachment to fighting for white women’s rights, it’s not just because she’s out of touch and selfish: it’s because that was something she personally had to fight for. That doesn’t make it okay that she seems to forget the concept of intersectionality (which she’s definitely aware of) the second anything challenges her own power, but it does explain why a firm run by women is so important to her.

Diane is not wrong that she deserves name partnership and she’s not wrong to not want to step aside. Yet, starting a war to retain her position as name partner is a CHOICE. The best thing for Diane to do here (morally, I mean) would be for her to step aside and throw her resources behind the firm’s new leadership, using her experiences and stature to benefit the firm (this would also be a way for her to cement her legacy and mentor a new generation of leaders). The best compromise, I think, would be for someone to leave the current firm—either Diane or the dissenting partners, probably Diane since Liz seems to agree with Madeline—without any hard feelings. The worst possible choice is for Diane to insist that this firm is hers and force every single tension at the firm to come to a head, screwing over Liz in the process and potentially permanently ruining the firm’s status as a black firm. Sooo... yeah.  

(I say it could ruin the firm’s status as a black firm because if Diane’s a white partner who happens to be there and the firm is mostly black, that’s one thing. If Diane is a white partner who fought all of the black partners to assert her own dominance over their firm... that’s hard to come back from. She can’t really call herself an ally, can she?)  

“Diane, this is the first time I’ve ever heard you sound defeated,” Kurt says. “Because I can’t win this,” she says. She insists she can’t even after Kurt tries to cheer her on (of course he does, he probably thinks having an all black firm is just identity politics and therefore worthless).

“You just don’t want to,” Kurt says. He is not wrong. This is a winnable fight for Diane. Liz is smart but Diane has the experience, the clients, the power, and her own reputation to use in this fight. Liz has her dad’s name (and I don’t think it would come to this, but Diane knows how she can pretty easily destroy Liz’s dad’s reputation). (Liz is great, don’t get me wrong. Liz is also someone who happened into a name partnership because her dad was important.)  

“It’s bigger than that. To fight this would go against every fiber of my being,” Diane says. “Every fiber in your being is about winning,” Kurt counters. Oh, damn. That’s a succinct way of putting it. He is completely right. Diane would love to think that every fiber of her being is about her commitment to social justice and women’s rights. It is not. If that were the case, would she really be a lawyer with clients like ChumHum, Bishop, Sweeney, Rivi, and Wolfe-Colman? We all know the answer to this. We all know Diane likes social justice a lot but winning, wealth, and power far more.

When I first watched TGW, now nearly a decade ago, I was a high schooler and my media diet mostly consisted of Desperate Housewives and a bunch of procedurals like Bones and Castle. The thing that hooked me about TGW—more than Alicia’s journey, more than anything—was that TGW never had easy answers to anything. Will tells Diane in 1x07 that “nothing here is pure and nothing here is simple” and that basically blew my mind. TGW always made it obvious that Will was morally gray, which fascinated me. But I struggled with Diane. Here was this woman who looked like she should be someone so impressive and inspirational I could write a college admissions essay about her (I did not, but that was my frame of reference at the time)… but the decisions she made... never seemed all that great?? I couldn’t comprehend it.  

When Blue Ribbon Panel aired in March 2012, I wrote to a friend, “Diane confused me a little bit tonight. She didn’t approve of Alicia standing up to the panel, and yet, she’s supposed to care about people, the truth, morality, etc etc. I never understand Diane’s motivations– is her philosophy to help others whenever it wouldn’t hurt her, personally, to do so?”  

At that point, Diane compromising her values struck me as something confusing because I wanted to think of her as a powerful role model and icon, and I didn’t know what to do with someone who looked like and often was role model material who also sometimes betrayed her values for her own self-interest. I had my analysis of Diane down: she her motivations ARE to help others whenever it wouldn’t hurt her, personally, to do so. All I needed to do was remove my question mark from the end of that thought.  

I promise I’ll move on from quoting myself, but I also want to share a paragraph I wrote about Diane in March 2014 (during season five of Wife) because it says what I want to say now as well as anything I could write today:

Diane is driven and ambitious. Her initial actions can come as the result of intense emotions, but given enough time and space, Diane will always be strategic and pragmatic when it comes to business. She’s spent her entire life putting her career first, and she wouldn’t have it any other way. That she found love is just icing.  Kurt aside, the two most important things to Diane are advancing her own self-interest and doing good in the world. These objectives appear to be a contradiction, and often, they are. Nine times out of ten, when it comes down to it, she’ll choose herself. I mean no judgment here: another central aspect of Diane’s character is that she’s upfront about her choices and stands by them, and this sort of moral ambiguity makes for a great character.  

The reason I quote myself here is not to be like, ha ha, I was right. It's because I think this episode is even more powerful because I can copy/paste in stuff I wrote nine years ago or seven years ago (oh god, 2014 was seven years ago?) verbatim and it can hold up as analysis. Both Fight and Wife have always implied Diane’s selfish side and given more than enough evidence to make a convincing argument about it, but they’ve never really engaged with it directly (and if you ask the social media teams for either show, Diane is a #queen who can never do wrong). This episode interrogates something that’s always been an unpleasant part of Diane’s character, and I’m so fucking glad about it.  

(I don’t think anyone’s accusing Diane of not growing as a person but it crossed my mind that this could be seen as lack of growth. I don’t think it is. I wouldn’t expect Diane to change. Her life and career are so set that growth on this without a LOT of struggle on her part would feel like a cop out.)  

Another reason I quote myself is to highlight how friggin’ character driven this episode is. I’ve seen a lot of people saying this episode felt like old-school TGW—and it absolutely does; that’s also how I felt—and I think that’s because it’s so character focused and meaty.  

But back to this scene. Kurt tells Diane that if she doesn’t try to win she should just give up entirely. Seems like bad advice.  

“Kurt, I appreciate the pep talk, but I don’t think the way you think. I cannot put my interests above a whole group of people—black people—just so I can keep my position.” Sure you can, Diane. You just don’t like to believe that about yourself. You know how Diane says to Kurt earlier that she knows the NRA will offer him the job? That is how I feel about this scene. The writers go to great lengths to explain where Diane’s head is at when she decides to fight for her partnership, but they’d have needed to do ten times more to get me to believe Diane would step aside voluntarily.  

Kurt basically thinks that Diane should fight because if her competition is actually talented enough to deserve name partnership, they should fight her for it. He’s missing the point here.  

“But a black person’s talent has always been valued less than mine,” Diane counters. The fact she knows and understands this makes her decision even less forgivable.  

Kurt knows he’s going to lose this argument and tries the same strategy he did on 5x01: telling Diane she’s right and should just give up and leave the firm. Diane doesn’t like that answer either.  

Given how much I loathed Jay’s hallucinations, I was expecting that when Diane asks Kurt in the middle of the night if he believes the election was stolen and then sits down at her fireplace to have a chat with Ruth Bader Ginsburg, I’d loathe what happened next. I did not! I actually really liked it!  

I think this is more effective than Jay’s hallucinations, at least for me, because it's less gimmicky. It isn’t played for humor or quirk, and it gets to the character-driven point a LOT faster. This feels more similar to Alicia imagining Gloria Steinem is telling her she’s good enough to be on the Supreme Court in 6x03 than it does to Jay’s hallucinations.  

I LOVE that Diane would dream that RBG would advise her on her work dilemma. Dream!RBG tells Diane that “any law firm would be insane to let you go.” (I don’t wanna spend too much time fighting dream logic, but I feel like the operative phrase here is ‘let you go’. Are the RL partners seeing this as letting Diane go? Or are they just trying to get at a different goal and Diane is in the way, and they don’t really care if Diane has top connections or billable hours? It’s almost like the other RL partners want a firm that stands for something and all Diane has stood for thus far at the firm is profit...)  

Diane pushes back on RBG and RBG shares her “real” thoughts. This is where this sequence clicks into place for me, because it’s working on a LOT of levels. Obviously, Diane is going to imagine that her hero tells her to do exactly what she wants to do (the aforementioned mental gymnastics). But without losing the level on which this is dream!RBG and filtered through Diane’s POV, the writers are also... criticizing RBG for not stepping down herself!? It’s fascinating and pointed and makes her the exact right choice to play Diane’s conscience.  

Dream!RBG shares her life story and notes how she was always asked to step aside, but she didn’t and that’s how she got to be RBG. “Don’t step aside because someone wants you to. Don’t step aside for politics. Men are always asking women to step aside so a man can go first,” RBG advises Diane. Even Diane knows that this isn’t exactly equal to her current situation-- “Even though I’m being asked to step aside so that a black person can take my place?” she counters.  

So RBG asks if Diane can still do something “for women” if she says. Diane says yes, and RBG says Diane should do that instead of stepping aside—she should do whatever it takes. That’s the wrong takeaway, Diane! If you want to do something for women then a) you could do something for the black women at your firm lol or b) you could politely remove yourself from the firm, encourage your most profitable clients to stay on if they are wanted by the other partners or and/or c) you could choose to bring your talent and your stature to a non-profit. But, of course, these options aren’t on the table. There’s a reason the options are leave and lose everything or stay and fight for name partnership, and it’s that Diane cares about maintaining control of what she sees as hers and winning more than she cares about anything else, including or even especially her desire to help women.

And also what women is she even helping at RL? Herself? She’s certainly not helping Wolfe-Coleman's rape victim. The closest she’s recently come to helping women is when she told off Weinstein’s lawyer and tried to start #MeToo... in a DREAM.  

The score for the next sequence sounds so familiar and I can’t place it. At first, I thought it was Hitting the Fan, but I’m not sure if that’s the right reference (also, damn, the Hitting the Fan score is REALLY GOOD!). I think it might be similar to 5x14 when Alicia’s pacing back and forth in the hotel room.  

Anyway, Diane starts meeting with her (white, male) clients to tell them about how she’s stepping aside. She hasn’t run this past any of the other partners, of course. She’s doing exactly what they want, in the most malicious and calculated way possible.

One of her clients is a fracking client who wants to win over democrats by being a RL client.  

Diane is so sneaky here! No one said that if Diane steps aside as partner she can’t handle the day to day on her cases... yet that’s what Diane tells this client since she knows it’ll make him mad!  

Diane makes a point of showing her fracking client that his new representation will be Madeline. He doesn’t know anything about Madeline, and, as Diane was likely counting on, he isn’t confident in having a black woman he’s less “comfortable” with on his cases. I don’t know if Diane was going for the racial element here, but... if you’re really concerned about continuity, you don’t have this meeting without having Madeline ready to jump in and show she’s read up on the client. I’m sure it’s possible that Diane meant nothing in giving this client only Madeline’s name, title, gender, and race to go off of, but is that likely?  

She hands another (white, male) client off to Julius, whom she describes as a “very competent lawyer.” What an introduction. She says she’s not retiring and the firm “just wants to let some other people step forward into a name partner position.” Diane knows how to sell clients on changes they won’t like. She knows this isn’t how you do it.  

That phrase, “comfortable with you” is doing a lot of work, no? Both clients so far have said it, and while it might not be racially coded... it’s racially coded.  

“Who should we call about it?” the clients ask. Diane can barely keep herself from smiling.

They call David Lee, immediately. He takes the call in the middle of a meeting, while someone else is talking—he is David Lee, after all.

The information on the screen in David’s meeting is quite interesting. It’s about STRL’s plans for RL. Here’s how the firm is described: “RL is a high-end mid-sized Chicago law firm that can consolidate its specialized brand within the American POC community and expand its national and global brand with STR Laure.” Soooo... yeah. For the corporate overloards, RL needs it to be just black enough that it appears like a black firm, but they care more about appearances and branding than anything of substance. (Notice how it says “POC” and not black? Notice how there’s this mention of national and global presence that doesn’t seem to be on the RL partners’ mind?)  

There’s an area called room for growth, listing top clients—entertainment law, fracking, the DNC, and civil cases against CPD. Interestingly, two of these are Liz’s clients (entertainment and DNC), one is Adrian’s (civil cases against CPD), and only fracking is Diane’s... so maybe I didn’t give Liz enough credit earlier.  

There’s also a plan of action that includes partners working with STRL and the 15-20% layoffs we already know about. I don’t think this text is meant to include any new info, but I assume one of the writers had a hand in writing it and it’s a good way of confirming things that had been subtext.

Wackner’s reality show looks... well, like his court, because his court always looked like a reality show. Cutting together the most out-there moments (audience reaction cards, Wackner singing “Come on defense!”, Wackner renaming himself Judge Shmuley for a day) makes Wackner look pretty bad.

Hey Liz, I thought you figured out how to silence your notifications for Dawnk permanently. (It’s not all high-stakes controversy over on the “R&L General” channel—the anon animals are now discussing a broken coffee maker.) (Though even this discussion is a bit political! Anon Owl says they bet STR’s coffee machine works, and Anon Dolphin wants to know why they don’t have more coffee maters at RL.)  

There’s also a dance party—which Marissa participates in—in the footage of Wackner.  

Hey, wouldn’t Marissa have reported the cameras to Diane and Liz? I feel like she’d know they’d want to know.  

Wackner ends up on the stand to offer context for the strange-looking clips. In a smart move, Liz offers to just let Judge Farley ask questions—she knows that’s what Farley is really after.

Unsurprisingly, Wackner’s context makes his outrageous practices seem much more reasonable. There’s a scoreboard to keep lawyers aware of where they’re standing so they can gauge instead of guess at Wackner’s thought process. Shmuley is to honor a recently deceased relative. The costumes are to prevent bias and cut down entitlement.  

Plaintiff’s counsel argues that Wackner is biased and the case continues even though Wackner’s (mostly) won over Farley.  

The case next turns to something about copyright law that sounds downright silly—the point is to underline that Wackner’s court makes more sense than real court on some things. It makes more common sense and it’s less racist.  

Del gets called into court. It’s interesting how these scenes are blocked together rather than spread out. The same is true of Diane’s scenes—after credits, we have Diane and Liz at the bar, Diane at home, Diane talking to RBG, Diane making moves, and then David Lee becoming aware of the situation. Then we have several consecutive court scenes (all of which feel like they have natural break points) of Wackner stuff. If I had to guess, I would guess that it’s to keep the momentum going. The Diane stuff plays better when it feels like a continuous chain rather than a subplot.  

(The only thing that suffers is that I have no idea why there’s a court scene about copyright law right after the plaintiff argues they have evidence about Wackner’s bias? I probably wouldn’t have even noticed if the scenes had been spread out more.)  

Now Cord’s involvement with Wackner’s court becomes an issue. It’s funny they need a witness to bring up Cord when Cord is SITTING IN THE COURT ROOM.  

Apparently Cord is financing a company that would compete with the plaintiff’s company and this means Wackner is biased. As the next scene will explain, Cord wasn’t even aware of his investment in the rival company, and Wackner certainly wasn’t. But, regardless, it’s going to be challenging to prove that neither Wackner nor Cord knew about the investment, and the opposition is going to go after Cord’s financial records, which no one wants. Liz suggests a continuance, which would give Wackner about a year to keep working on his court before they have to come back to this issue.  

Wackner HATES the idea of delays and is all, THIS IS WHY I HAVE MY OWN COURT and again, he isn’t wrong.  

David Lee needs to see Liz, now. Liz and Diane meet in David Lee’s office and stare at their phones. Diane says she has no idea what the meeting is about, even though she basically set up the meeting herself.  

“What the fuck is going on?” David Lee says. Diane feigns surprise and asks for more specifics. David Lee reveals that four top clients have called with issues about their representation shifting.  

Liz knows what’s going on and aggressively says, “Diane, thoughts?” “Nothing from me. I met with my clients. I just told them of a restructuring that I was being told about,” Diane says like it’s no big deal. Liz and Diane both know that Diane forced this meeting.

“Is this a power play on your part?” Liz asks Diane. “No, it’s just updating my clients,” Diane says for David Lee’s benefit or commitment to the bit or something. It is definitely a power play, and a nearly unforgivable one done to an ally.  

“David, Diane was told about frustration at the partner level about a white woman being a name partner in a black firm. And apparently, this is her response,” Liz explains. “I just told our clients what was going on,” Diane defends. David Lee doesn’t really care about what happened: he cares about one thing, and that thing is money.  

“Diane’s a fucking name partner until STR Laurie says she’s not. No one decides until I decide. Now stick your race war back in its bottle,” David Lee says. I mean, basically, yeah, that’s what happens when you merge with a huge firm that only cares about profit.  

I like that this ends up coming back to STRL. You can’t really have a conversation about RL’s identity without also acknowledging that RL is not independently owned. Sure, STRL will care at some point if RL loses its clout with the black community—but like most companies, they care about guaranteed loss of profit and the short term more than long-term what-ifs. It may sound cynical, but if Madeline and all of the other partners quit, STRL would simply put all their effort into keeping Liz or even just the Reddick name and would then hire black lawyers who think more like Julius than Madeline to keep the reputation. STRL does not give a shit about helping anyone, and that’s what Diane counts on.  

I do not believe the version of RL that Madeline wants can exist when they’re under STRL’s control. I believe the version Diane wants (not really a black firm) can, and I believe the version Liz seems to want (one that’s mostly black and occasionally social justice focused) can, but this issue won’t go away until STRL does.  

Sure, Diane, keep telling yourself you’re fighting the good fight out here.  

(Perhaps “The Good Fight” is a more ironic and fraught title than it originally seemed.)  

“That was a mistake. I am on your side, and you don’t even realize it,” Liz tells Diane afterwards. Interesting that Liz says “I am” and not “I was.” I would love to know what Liz really thinks about this situation and hope we get more from her POV next week. I think Liz wants to run a black firm, but I also think she wants to run a successful firm and likes working with Diane. Liz is on Diane’s side about as much as she can be while still advocating for Diane to step down.  

Pissing off Liz is a very interesting move for Diane here, too. Diane wants to fight the one person who is on her side for control of a firm that doesn’t want her there, and she’s convinced herself this is the smart move! Kind of wild. What does Diane think the day to day will look like? I think I said this above, but in forcing this war, Diane is all but guaranteeing that if she wins, RL will only be a black firm in that STRL will say it’s one to make more money.

Julius and Diane chat next. Julius says he wants to start his own firm—with Diane. Her only reaction is laughter, but, like, this is probably happening. I’m not sure why she laughs. It’s not quite a case of unfortunate timing (Diane could’ve done this before she blew things up, and it’s not quite too late for Diane to commit to leaving and smooth things over with Liz), so maybe it’s just a “well, this sounds familiar!” laugh.  

(If you think of Previously On as 5x00 instead of 5x01, that would make this episode 5x05, which would make this a Hitting the Fan callback. I can also do mental gymnastics!)  

The episode could end there, but it doesn’t. We’ve still got a Wackner plot to resolve. Cord has some people beat up the plaintiff as a way of enforcing Wackner’s verdict and getting the real court case to go away. Marissa picks up on what’s happened faster than Wackner does, unless Wackner just doesn’t care.  

It’s subtle, but throughout this episode, there’s a little bit of a trend towards Marissa becoming more skeptical of Wackner. She tries to keep him under control in court, tries to reason with him about the continuance, and in this scene, she just looks entirely displeased and alarmed every time she’s on camera.  

We get another scene with RBG. “It’s different for me than it was for you,” Diane says. She notes that unlike RBG, she herself is up against another “dominated culture.” This other dominated culture is “black lawyers.” (I’m sorry, I just find the way she says “black lawyers” funny, partially because she says “lawyers” instead of people and partially because Diane seems insistent on only occasionally remembering that Liz is both black and female.)  

I can’t tell if this scene was originally intended to close the episode or not. The blocks of scenes, the way the episode seems like it should’ve ended with Julius’s laugh but instead has three more scenes (guy getting beat up, Wackner’s court, this one), and the fact the Kings said this episode had to be almost totally rethought because both Christine and Audra had concerns about the original script all suggest to me that maybe some of the scenes in this episode got shuffled around to keep momentum and hit the right notes at the right time.  

Diane acknowledges that RBG could’ve stepped down and we wouldn’t have a conservative majority on the court now if she had. RBG insists that she wouldn’t have stepped aside even if Obama had guaranteed that her replacement would be black. She says it’s because she only knows what she can do—not what others would do. And “what you know is always better than what might happen.”  

Even if this was originally supposed to happen earlier (Diane saying she doesn’t know what to do makes me feel like it way), I like that we get to see it’s still weighing on Diane after the fact.  

(Also, I have seen some comments about, for lack of a better phrase, the girl power energy of these Diane and RBG scenes. No! These scenes aren’t a tribute to RBG! She’s in these scenes because she didn’t step down and can thus help Diane excuse her own actions! These scenes aren’t exactly anti-RBG, but they are certainly critical of some of her choices!)  

The topic shifts to Diane and Kurt’s relationship (another reason to put this somewhere other than the main part of the episode; this would slow down the momentum of the middle part of the episode) and its similarity to RBG’s friendship with Scalia.  

Tbh, I don’t think a friendship and a marriage are all that similar on this front and I’d be curious to see Diane think about RBG/Scalia in the context of her potential partnership with Julius rather than her marriage.

RBG basically tells Diane to stay with Kurt. Diane thanks her, and then, back in reality, tells Kurt to take the NRA job so he’ll be happy—and then she’ll just sue him. Okay, that feels like an episode ending, so I am REALLY curious about all the re-writing and re-structuring that happened in this episode and what did/didn’t get touched. I can’t make up my mind about what feels out of place.

So we start out with Diane feeling like it might be the right thing to explore whether or not it still makes sense for her to be with Kurt, a suspected insurrectionist and future NRA employee, and Diane feeling like she wants to help her friends and partners at her mostly black firm do good in the world. And we end with Diane doubling down on her relationship with Kurt, giving her blessing for the NRA job, and fucking over her colleagues because she wants to keep her own power. Dark! I love it.  

This episode does this all without making Diane entirely unsympathetic, which is astounding. While I think Diane knowingly makes choices that further her self-interest over the values she (claims to?) hold and I am definitely NOT Team Diane on her decisions in this episode, this episode could easily have been less interesting and complex. It’s understandable that Diane would not want to step aside from a firm she’s helped build—who would? It’s understandable that Diane might not feel the passion for a black firm the way she does for a female firm. It’s understandable that Diane might not want to blow up her marriage, despite her political differences from Kurt. This episode allows Diane to be just sympathetic enough she never becomes a flat villain, but never sympathetic enough that someone could mistake this episode for one that shows Diane as a morally pure hero. Personally, I love that in a TV show. That’s the exact kind of writing that made me love Alicia Florrick enough that I still spend a considerable amount of time thinking about her character arc even though TGW ended half a decade ago. It’s what’s been missing from a lot of TGF episodes for me, and why I’ve said that TGF seems like a show more about theme than character. It’s why I’ve written—oh god, TEN THOUSAND words—about this episode.  

I have no clue what’s going to happen next, but I hope it includes more character-driven drama (ideally with a lot of good material for Liz) and not a lot of firm-jumping shenanigans.  

#tgf thoughts #the good fight

[rachelsteapot]

Rescued: Tommy Shelby x Female!Reader Pt. 2

Here’s part 2 for all you lovely people :) Read part one Here 

Just to let you all know, I am aiming to post twice a week, Mondays and Thursdays, but I am currently on Easter break so when I return to 6th Form, that may change. I aim to post at least once a week during term time, but that is to be comfirmed. 

Thank you so so much for all the love and support that you have shown me for Rescued. I really wasn’t expecting this much love. You’re all wonderful!

Warnings: None 

Tags: @bat-luna-cat , @nothingleftthaticando

That evening, Tommy Shelby returned to Battersea cats and dogs home. 

He pushed the front door open and entered the foyer, where he had stood mere hours before. No one was there so he sat in one of the slightly battered looking seats and let himself relax. Today had been long, but by his standards, not overly eventful. He wanted to see his new dog, but also this girl that had caught his eye. 

Y/N, on the other hand, was shitting herself. 

The Thomas Shelby was here to collect a dog, one of her dogs, and she hadn’t made any considerations. If she’d have known, she would have had all the dogs lined up and ready. 

But she hadn’t. 

And all that was left to do was pray. 

Finally, she hauled herself from her self pity and appeared behind the desk to see the famous Mr Thomas Shelby light a cigarette. His stunning blue eyes met Y/N’s and her heart thudded in her throat. 

“Please follow me, Bruce is waiting for you,” Y/N gulped, watching Tommy’s coat sweep as he stood. 

Tommy watched as this girl, this woman, gracefully walked across the foyer, opening a different door to earlier. Upon entering, he found her crouched next to Bruce, stroking him gently and whispering. Finally she stood, taking a second to wipe tears from her eyes before she turned to him.

"I hope you love Bruce just as much as I do. He's been at Battersea for a couple of years now and, honestly, he's the best dog ever. I swear, he's got to be part human, he always knows how to comfort you," Almost as if to prove it, Bruce pushed his head into Y/N's hand and whimpered gently. 

Tommy felt his heart melt a little more for this woman. It was clear that this dog meant a lot to her. And for a moment, his heart ruled his head.

"You could always come with us." 

Y/N shot Tommy a confused look. This was not the Tommy she had heard about, and she was not about to become part of some cruel game.

"What do you mean, come with you? You're adopting a dog, not asking to marry me. At least ask me out to dinner first," Y/N blurted before she could stop herself. 

Tommy's eyebrow raised, but so did the corners of his lips. Then, followed a short chuckle.

"The Ritz, 8 PM tonight. Buy yourself a dress, I left an envelope in the donations box." 

"But the Ritz doesn't take dogs-" 

"They will if it's mine, come on Bruce," and with that, Tommy turned and strode out of the kennel. Y/N hurried after him with the bag of dog food, and found the Shelby brother stood next to a very expensive looking Bentley. Bruce followed obligingly and began sniffing at the wheels of Tommy's car while the two humans loaded his things. 

Once the car was loaded, Tommy hoisted Bruce into the passenger seat and shut the door, before settling himself in the drivers side. He turned, leaning out of the window and met Y/N's gaze once again. 

"The Ritz, 8 PM, don't be late," and with that, Mr Shelby and his new companion trundled away down the street. Y/N stood there, dazed, desperately trying to process what had happened. Then, she remembered the envelope. Y/N dashed inside and opened up the donations box, removing a pale envelope with her name printed neatly on it, and opening it. Inside was a wad of cash, easily amounting to near £100, although she didn’t care to count it before she stuffed it into her pocket. 

The next thing that Y/N’s whizzing brain realised, was that she would need to finish work early today, meaning that she would need to confront her mean, and rather sleazy manager, Mr. Smith. Mr. Smith was a middle aged man who tried to cover his rapidly receding hairline with a badly matched toupee. He seemed to have no inhibitions, and where his hands didn’t wander, his eyes definitely did. 

Gulping down bile, Y/N approached his office and knocked on the door. She heard a croak from within and opened the door, stepping into the shroud of cigarette smoke. 

“Mr. Smith, it’s Y/N. I’m just letting you know that Bruce has been paid for and collected, and the money is in the strong box under the main desk.” When she heard a grunt of approval, Y/N continued. “Also, Sir, I hope it’s not too much trouble, but I was wondering if Margerie and Alan could close up tonight without me? I have been having a few women’s issues and I feel I would be of more use tomorrow if I could have a few hours off tonight.” 

Upon the mention of women’s issues, Mr. Smith began to cough and splutter, nodding and waving his hand through the shroud of smoke. 

“Yes, leave, just know it will be deducted from your pay for this week!”

Y/N didn’t need to be told twice. She thanked Mr. Smith, and dashed from his office, wishing a brief goodbye to her co-workers as she went. 

Then, she was running towards the shopping district, once again praying to whatever god may be listening, but this time, in the hope that the shops were still open. 

Finally, it was 8 PM. Tommy had arrived at the Ritz not long before eight, and had settled himself and Bruce into a private room. He had ignored the protests of the concierge in regards to Bruce’s presence, and was adamant that it would stay this way. Now, all that was left to do, was wait. 

When Y/N finally arrived, she was escorted into the room by a smartly dressed waiter. Tommy had stood from his seat to politely welcome his quest, but when he saw her, his world flipped. 

Y/N was wearing a well fitted silver full length evening gown. It had small straps that fed into a plunging back, which Tommy had glimpsed as Y/N had turned to thank her escort. Gone was the ragged, almost street urchin looking girl, and instead in her place stood a young woman who could easily have been mistaken for the daughter of a lord. Y/N held herself differently too. Her posture was relaxed yet elegant, and her hands rested in her lap, holding a small silver bag. 

"Mr. Shelby? Is everything okay?" Y/N's query roused Tommy from his unsaintly thoughts as he cleared his throat and met his guest's eyes. 

"Yes, please, please sit." He directed, pulling out the chair opposite his for Y/N to sit on. She gracefully sat in the chair, stroking Bruce gently who had laid his head on her lap. 

"So, Mr. Shelby," 

"Tommy, call me Tommy."

Y/N gulped, "Tommy, why did you ask me here?"

"Because, Y/N, you intrigue me. I don’t often get to talk to people like you.” Tommy’s voice was calm and measured, a drastic contrast to the storm that was raging in his head. He picked up his glass and took a sip, watching the woman opposite him intently. 

“Shall we order some food? I expect you’re hungry.” 

The rest of the evening passed slowly, time running like honey. Y/N slowly allowed herself to relax, enjoying the company of a man for the first time in what felt like forever. And he was attractive too. 

Towards 10 PM, Tommy moved from the seat opposite Y/N to the seat beside her, their conversation flowing like the alcohol from their glasses.

“Y/N,” Tommy started after a prolonged period of comfortable silence. “How would you feel about coming back to Birmingham with me?”

Y/N was shocked. She had known this man less than twenty four hours and he was already suggesting she uproot her life and move halfway across the country to a completely different city. 

“I don’t know if I can, Mr. Shelby- Tommy. The dogs are all here, and so is my job, and my friends. I can’t just leave,” Y/N felt Tommy deflate slightly, only microscopically, but it was enough. 

Silence shattered the room. It wasn’t warm and comfortable, but cold, aggressive, heart breaking. 

“I’m sorry, Mr. Shelby. Thank you for a lovely meal, I hope I may get to see you again. Please take good care of Bruce.” 

Y/N stood and turned, only to feel her hand catch on something warm and firm. 

Tommy felt his heart break as Y/N rejected his offer. This woman was like nothing he had ever encountered. She was intelligent, quick witted, able to drink just as much as he was, and stunningly beautiful. He was not going to let her get away that easily. 

So, Tommy reached out and grabbed her hand as she attempted to leave. He spun her around and pulled the young woman flush against him. 

“I can’t let you go just like that. Y/N, you intrigue me. You more than intrigue me. Please, come back to Birmingham for a day. We can see how it goes. I’ll get you a job at my company, you can meet my family, and then you can decide if you want in or out of my life. Please, Y/N. Please.”

Y/N felt Tommy’s hot breath on her neck, warming her heart. She could feel his body through his shirt, she felt the way that they fit. No one had ever felt so right. So she swallowed her pride and ignored the voice of reason. 

She was going back to Birmingham with Tommy, and that was final. 

#tommy shelby #peaky blinders #tommy shelby x reader #arthur shelby #john shelby #shelby company limited #dogs #cillian murphy

[captainkurosolaire]

Things I Like RP Partners to Know

I like to be called: Captain, Kuro, Zach, Degenerate, w/e. I'm typically not nerved by really anything, mostly chill. (Went in-depth and tagged below cut)

One thing you should know about me: I really just write for passion anymore, I don't care about this whole Post+ stuff, it won't play a factor in me. Tumblr has really everything that allows me to write and further myself. However, it ever goes away, even if becomes Myspace 2.0, I'll probably still maintain writing here off and on in spurts. --Now if they shut-down, I might convert over somewhere that's identical, cause Twitter couldn't handle my girth. I'm mildly autistic and suffer from a few other conflicting health aliments, writing is my obsessiveness and remedy. Used to be gaming, but I became less of a gamer, and replaced it more for writing cause It's a place where I can contain and throw all my thought's to usage. My mind overlaps with so much thing's at once, I get side-tracked, misplacement, my concentration shifts horribly, before I know it, I haven't slept for twenty-four hours or more. Lot of stuff is just me being redundant by fault. Or I become overwhelmed with a story ideas, that impulsively takes me, but majority of my best thing's are sudden. Not the one's that are ever planned. But I don't live to make excuses never care to be defined, by one thing, or person. I don't aim to attain much of anything in life but be a better me, until my end. And by analyzing your mind, you can do or achieve a lot I've discovered. So I repetitively no matter what jog down my WIP's and unleash, or my errors, I put them all on badges displays, then I go back and repeat until I show progress. That's how I have to learn. But passion is a candle, so when it burn's out I lose a lot of what I learned, it's natural after that to be discouraged, but instead, for me, that gets me going again. Cause mean's I can come at thing's with a whole new mental perspective and different flow, then compare, and again, adapt and improve. One thing you should know about RPing with my character(s): Everything is a factor and story with me. Losses, they matter. My character originally was highly killable almost every session, but advanced due to the actions of others, because of them, he found the value of his own life, and that's how I like to do my characters. Even the win's my character gets from stories, will most likely have a 'bad ending' occasionally or result into something new sprouting from it eventually, however that doesn't define at-all how permanently it effects them. But seasonally they go through their struggle. Life for real, is up and down's, these are the component's I factor in. Realistically, sure we fall. We never truly decline unless we allow it. Our character's philosophies, their mental judgement, dislikes, etc, all these thing's become ingrained they decide how much they want too fight and live, they step to improve or sometimes stumble under roadblocks, but not truly devolve. So the more people he interacts with or meets and encounters in RP, they are factors, they're meaningful to meet again, or live, their short teachings are insightful. No matter how small or large or incomplete stories went or passed-by. I created a character who was filled in by others initially. Even one-shot smuts, they're important experiences. Lot more to appreciate when your character learns on their own how to surpass their weaknesses and suffering organically. Still do RP with others but typically I do collaborations, or pre-established or short things, or Discord, one-shot in-game stuff, screenshot things that can convey RP. Want to build this Crew as their own functioning characters, not so much minor throwaways, but shippable, and highly in-depth. Essentially building an optional anime for my partner's, one-day. Long-term with me right now just isn't something I'd ever ask or expect from me. I'm too jumbled and a mess. But it's not a never, I do have two people who are among all my stuff and involved. I'd include anyone in my stories too if they wanted partaken. First language: Gibberish / English. Age range: under 13  |  14–17 | 18–22 | 23–25 | 26–29 | 30+ | 40+ | 70+ Am I okay with NSFW?: yes |

no | some nsfw I came solely off that, my reputation, was known as 'That ERP guy' on Balmung OG day's, I'm one of the degen's from that era. But character's evolve and adapt as do their people, they become more, but maintain their origins to degree. Those perspective's and things learned from NSFW are very paramount to a lot of SFW too. My favorite/most common thing to RP is: angst | fluff | smut | crack | action | plots | AUs are fine | Violence | Darker themes |  I dunno. * I'm pretty open-ended in all things. It's all fascinating for me to attempt at improving. Reason finally pulled the trigger and made a diverse Crew for Captain was give off different interactions and also more reason's to write beyond my usual trends. I'll tackle eventually every genre... now doesn't mean I'll excel in those fields more than my specialties, but I'll do it. Canon Character RP Friendly?: yes | no | depends * I stick with the sandbox but I'll stretch out all the space and limits of it. Building skyscrapers and UFO's with that sand, just happens that this Universe has magic, science, alchemy, holograms, all-around unlimited absurd possibilities, more than even D&D, which makes this game the best to RP within. When comes to interacting with anything Canon base, It'll always dwarf me though. Most likely I'll write my own legit WoL's, thinking of making an 'antagonist' one, but more 'protagonist too' (maybe hunk viera male?) I like making construed lines between characters, that's really complex, it's avidly up to a reader to decide who's in the right or wrong or if they're rooting for the villain or good-guy. I see most lore characters as Celebrities which my character would be rightfully cultured in, and they're untouchable, least for my characters. To me the source of what, who, or with you're writing is what determines a lot. But yeah RPing with anything Canon related, I switch to being a just minor gnat. And there's going to be a lot of consequences, that come if there's anything that does effect something that matters in the Universe. Just cause my pirate is causing havoc and having fun for now, doesn't mean law's don't catch-up or something else doesn't. Cause and effect always. RP blog: does contain ooc posts | doesn’t contain ooc posts | occasionally contains ooc* I would do more OOC if did asks, or inbox related things and was wanted, but outside occasional updates, I stick to my role. That's just write stories and screenshots and practice everything. I'm thankful for anyone who does enjoy anything I share or supports me, It's what brings me back faster and I do always think of you too when I want to get better, it's uplifting and inspiring, alongside boosting. If I do bring any motivation to anything, I do. Then that's the best payment I could get. I like seeing others thrive, or soar higher than me, and unleash their creativity. Tagged by:@spotofmummery (Thank ye my treasured friend!) Tagging anyone/everyone: @roguestly @scholarlybreadbun @under-the-blood-moonlight @lettersnorth @violet-warder @lukawarrioroflight @eligos-venator @corpse-dancer @silvernsteel @silvertail-ffxiv @roxinova @lavender-hemlock @fracturedfantasia @zhauric @fair-fae @avwalya @yuki-yukichan @crow-iv @cadrenebula @spellsandtales @casualcatte @seascrapes @mishivymendi @thorcat @aqueerfishtheyis @ljoturyalre @seabound-dragoon @scornedjustice @laylahcousland @layla-grey @moonstruck-ffxiv @snow-covered-moon (Apologies if missed anyone. If there's more who'd like to be tagged again on all these type of things, let me know.)

#Thanks for the tag! #answered #memes answered #mun picture just optional you can use muse btw #I just haven't gone inform in longtime #Or done these #Prompts

[galli-writes]

(Click here to read on Ao3!)

fandom: Teen Titans

pairing: BBRae

genre/warnings: AU - Canon Divergence; Implied/Referenced Abuse, Abusive Parents, Childhood Trauma, Graphic Depictions of Violence

additional tags: Angst, Family Issues, Friendship/Love, Protectiveness, Slow Burn, Romance, Hurt/Comfort, Love Confessions

summary:

There are a few things that Beast Boy knows for certain:

He’s 21….and a total lightweight. He’s a vegan (but not like…a pretentious vegan). He’s not going to be single forever.

And the Teen Titans are the only family he’ll ever need.

a/n: Hello everyone! I am finally back--though in a way I guess I never really left. I've been working on this fic on an off since I last posted, but things have been so busy that it's been rather slow going. I'm going to try REALLY hard to keep to a more consistent schedule going forward. The fic is entirely written, but needs some pretty heavy editing. I'm going to shoot for an upload every other Friday from here on out. Thank you all so much for being patient!

Chapter 5: A Helping Hand (words 6,264)

It wasn’t often that Beast Boy played hooky. At least, not when he thought there was a good chance Robin would catch him. Skipping practice was a serious no-go, outside of a few exceptions. Beast Boy knew he wasn’t a good enough actor to feign sickness. The ‘family emergency’ excuse existed strictly as a formality for obvious reasons. Reasons that were starting to seem less obvious now. 

The letter in his drawer was already old news--at least to him. Beast Boy knew the contents of the note by heart. The memorization wasn’t intentional, but the words swam around in his head constantly nonetheless. A symptom of a much larger disease, as Raven might have put it. So he’d moved on to obsessively deconstructing and reconstructing the many packages that still littered their living room. Not that doing so had given him any more insight into who Nicholas Galtry was. Or why he had had possession of all of his parents’ things. Or why they were here now. Among the many disjointed thoughts that rattled in his brain, one consistently nudged its way to the top of the pool. That one was also tucked neatly away in a drawer in his room. Though he hadn’t dared to look at the picture since first putting it there.

Beast Boy glanced behind him at the clock in the kitchen. He’d been here an hour already--someone was probably already out looking for him, Robin’s orders. He quickly shut the box he was currently sorting through. It had been the same as all the boxes before it--filled with priceless, nameless items from another place and another time. He felt like a thief, searching his own belongings, not knowing what exactly he hoped to find among them. Each time carefully packing the boxes back as he’d found them. Like a thief, hoping to cover his tracks.

“There you are.”

Beast Boy flinched, instantly shrinking back from the box in front of him. He turned around to face Cyborg looming over him.

“Man, I’ve been lookin’ for you everywhere ,” Cyborg said, a twinge of frustration in his voice. “What the hell are you doin’ up here?”

“Nothing,” Beast Boy said, anxiously getting to his feet. “Just...hanging out.”

Cyborg frowned. “Well maybe you should come ‘hang out’ at training.”

“Training?” Beast Boy repeated automatically.

“Yeah, you know...the thing we have scheduled every single afternoon? At the exact same time? Every day?” Cyborg said, cocking an eyebrow at him. Now he seemed more confused than frustrated—a switch that was very typically Cyborg.

“Right. Training. I was wondering where everyone else was,” Beast Boy answered. It was a poor excuse, but it wasn’t actually a lie.

Cyborg sighed, but there was a hint of a joking smile on his face when he spoke next. “Let’s just get down there before Robin kicks both our asses, okay?”

Beast Boy nodded, and for a moment it was as if the boxes behind him ceased to exist. It currently felt like there were two worlds jammed under one roof, and now that he’d been pulled out of the one behind him, he saw just how much he preferred the one in front of him. Even if it meant getting his ass kicked.

The training field had come a long way from the public school playground it resembled when they’d first settled into the Tower. It was Robin’s ongoing project--adding another ropes course, integrating fully automated sparring dummies...there were even obstacles designed with each of their abilities in mind. Beast Boy was sure that Robin had a Pinterest board dedicated to the fiasco for all of the crazy things he was constantly adding to it.

Which is why Beast Boy was confused to find that none of it was being used.

“Oh no. Don’t tell me--”

“Yep,” Cyborg said, walking the opposite direction of Robin’s martial arts art display.

“Dude, I suck at hand to hand.”

“Probably why Robin thinks you ditched,” Cyborg shrugged.

In the distance, their three remaining teammates were gathered in a clearing at the opposite end of the field. Starfire stood leaning against a tree on the sidelines, water bottle in hand. In the center of a well-worn patch of grass, Robin and Raven circled each other in what seemed to be a never-ending dance.

“So when you said Robin was gonna kick my ass...you meant that literally, didn’t you?” Beast Boy said with a frown.

“Well it might not be Robin who kicks your ass,” Cyborg smiled. “It could be Star, or Raven, or yours truly.”

“Wow, thanks,” Beast Boy grumbled. He knew Cyborg was only teasing, and Beast Boy had been the first to admit that the skillset wasn’t exactly his strong suit. But the remark lingered in his mind a second longer than he knew it should have.

“Okay, so maybe it’s not really your thing, but hey,” Cyborg said, placing a hand on Beast Boy’s shoulder. “Practice makes perfect. You’ll get there.”

“Dude. I turn into animals for a living. Most of which don’t even have opposable thumbs,” Beast Boy said, flexing his own in front of his friend. “I don’t need to be good at something I’m never gonna use.”

Cyborg merely shook his head dismissively. “Never say never, man.”

“Okay, Robin ,” Beast Boy replied with a smirk.

As if on cue, Robin and Raven’s dance came to a halt as soon as the words left Beast Boy’s mouth. He had figured they were still out of earshot, but maybe he’d been wrong.

“There you two are,” Robin said as the two of them stepped into the loosely defined dirt ring. He glanced down at his watch and then directly at Beast Boy. “Beast Boy, you’re twenty minutes late. Practice starts at four. You know that.”

Any trace of teasing Cyborg had expressed instantly evaporated when Robin spoke.

“Uh...four-twenty blaze it?” Beast Boy said with a shrug and a terribly awkward smile. The one that always appeared on his face whenever he didn’t know what else to say--which was more often than he would have liked to admit.

Robin closed his eyes, raising a hand to his temples.

Raven’s facepalm was much less subtle.

“Starfire are you ready to go?” Robin asked, shaking his head slightly.

“Mmm hmm!” Starfire hummed in response.

“Great. Then I’m gonna have you and Beast Boy up next.”

“Uh…” Beast boy shot a glance at Starfire, who was practically the living portrait of an Instagram athlete. “Shouldn’t I warm up first or something?”

“In a real fight, you won’t always get the chance to ‘warm up’ beforehand,” Robin said, crossing his arms over his chest. Which was definitely his way of saying ‘that’s what you get for showing up late’.

“Don’t worry, Beast Boy,” Starfire smiled. “I will try not to injure you too terribly.”

Beast Boy certainly began to feel warm now, to the point where he was sure his face was turning red.

In his peripheral, he saw that Cyborg had cleared the training ring and was now standing beside Raven on the sidelines. She leaned in slightly to her left, whispering something into Cyborg’s ear with a devious smirk.  

Beast Boy felt his stomach drop. He didn’t know what was worse. Starfire’s complete sincerity or Raven’s total lack thereof.

But he didn’t have much time to dwell on the thought before it was overtaken completely by a harrowing sense of panic. He had been posed for a fight, staring head on at his partner. But it was only now that his vision snapped back into focus, just in time to catch a whirling ball of green energy headed directly toward him.

He quickly swerved out of the way, trying to regain his balance. But before he could find his footing, another blaze shone at his feet, knocking him straight to the ground. He squinted, eyes beginning to water from the dust cloud that now surrounded him. He wanted to open his mouth to say something--make some complaint that he hadn’t been ready, that there had been no signal to start. But he knew that wouldn’t buy him any sympathy in Robin’s eyes.  

Of course, vying for Robin’s attention was even less of a no-go once the sirens started blaring.

Without so much as a nod from the leader in question, everyone took off in the same direction. Everyone except Beast Boy, who was still on the ground.

He pushed himself to his feet, the palms of his hands stinging against the soil. He knew it wasn’t personal. None of this was personal. Kind of like how the sense of isolation and strangeness he’d felt around his friends since the reading that letter certainly wasn’t personal .

But as he watched them disappearing now--not one of them looking back to see if he had followed--it sure felt that way.

So what if calling shotgun was more important than helping him up? He shook his head, now unable to hold back a self-satisfied smirk. No matter how much of a head start they had, no one was going to outrun a cheetah.

Within seconds, the ground flew under his feet like a treadmill set on max speed. When the garage came into view, Beast Boy was relieved to find that it was already open--and more importantly empty. In a flash, he transformed back, and with the same proud smile lingering on his face sauntered over to crack open the passenger door.

His smile instantly disappeared when he saw who was behind it.

“ Raven ?”

Even at her name, she didn’t so much as shoot him a glance. Raven just sat there, comfortably nestled in the passenger seat with her feet kicked up on the dashboard. She scrolled through her phone with a bored expression--like she’d been there for hours.

“How the hell did you beat me?” Beast Boy blurted out, feeling irrationally annoyed as Raven continued to sit there, chewing a piece of gum in silence.

“Want a piece?” she said absentmindedly, materializing a pack of DoubleMint from the locked glove box. There were dozens of other flavors inside--so many packs that they filled almost half the compartment.  “It’s Cyborg’s secret stash--but I won’t tell.”

Beast Boy ignored her. “There’s no way you could have beaten me here. I took a shortcut even you don’t know about,” he said curtly.

“Weird, huh?” she said, turning her attention back to her phone. “It’s almost like magic. ”

Beast Boy frowned. “That’s cheating.”

“And you turning into a cheetah clearly isn’t,” she said plainly. Then another sly smile crept onto her face. “Get it? A cheetah ?”

Beast Boy’s face scrunched up in even further annoyance. Without a word, he shut the passenger door, opening the one behind it. He already knew which seat he’d be directed to sit in. Though even calling it a seat was a bit generous. Nevertheless, he’d occupied it since day one because, of course, ‘he was the shortest and it just made sense for him to ride in the middle because if they were ever in a crash the height of the headrest wouldn’t do anyone else any good blah blah blah’. As if something as normal as a car crash would really be enough to injure a bunch of superheroes.  

“Alright, let’s get this show on the road,” Cyborg said, swinging open the door to the driver’s seat and hopping inside.

As the doors on either side of him opened and closed in perfect sync, Beast Boy was struck with another harrowing consequence of his seating arrangement.  

It was true that Robin and Starfire were relatively tame as far as couples went--at least in terms of explicit PDA.  It was only once in a blue moon that you actually caught them exchanging so much as a kiss on the cheek. But there was no denying the magnetic force between them. And it was times like these that Beast Boy felt less like a person and more like a glitch jamming the radio signal.

“Okay,” Robin said, flicking open the communication device on his wrist. A small holographic map appeared above it, marking several heat signatures as they traversed the grid on the screen. In an instant, an identical image appeared on a screen in the center console of the car.

“Looks like they’ve already hit Gorman street,” Cyborg said, glancing at the center console.  

“They’re moving fast,” Robin added, adjusting something on the device. “But only because they’ve sacrificed numbers for speed”.

“Well let’s just see if they can outrun this, ” Cyborg replied, revving the engine in response. Within moments, the Tower was far behind them.

Beast Boy leaned forward slightly to look out the window on his left. They hadn’t been driving long at all, but he had no idea where they were. Left and right, worn down warehouse buildings lined the streets as far as he could see. Overhead, a thick gray fog swallowed the entire sky.

“Starfire, I want you and Cy to go after the group of three heading west,” Robin continued, pointing to several figures on the map as he spoke. “I’ll go after the solo. Raven, Beast Boy—you two track the pair heading in the opposite direction.”

Raven didn’t outwardly protest, but her agitated sigh was enough to send its intended message.  

After what seemed like only a second later, the car skidded to a halt at the edge of a narrow alley. And without missing a beat, everyone else took off in their respective directions at full speed. This time Beast Boy could confidently blame the middle seat for keeping him a step behind.

“I’ll race ya,” Beast Boy said, throwing a competitive smile at Raven, who had surprisingly seemed to be waiting for him.

“Just hurry up,” she said plainly, looking to the sky.

The streets seemed even more bleak from above.

Every other street light flickered as if choking out its dying breath. Cracks ran down the sidewalks like jagged scars, and chipped paint and graffiti adorned the walls of the decrepit buildings. Beast Boy found himself wondering where everyone was--there were barely even any cars on the streets.

“Ow!” Raven exclaimed suddenly.

Simultaneously, Beast Boy felt his wings crumple under him as he crashed into her from behind. He screeched involuntarily, trying to regain his balance.

“Why are we stopping?” he asked--or rather squawked--momentarily forgetting he was still very much a bird.

Luckily, Raven seemed to get the idea. Without a word, she pointed to two shadowy figures slipping around the corner of a nearby building. She started to open her mouth to say something then, but Beast Boy was already locking in on the figures below.

Without a second thought, he dove sharply down toward one of the shadows in his sight. Talons poised, he only managed to graze the top of his target’s head. Or at least what he could think of as being the thing’s head, as the action felt more like skimming a silhouette than an actual person.

At the very least, the surprise of his attack was enough to knock the figure off balance and trip on some debris below.

Beast Boy landed nearby, skidding onto the asphalt. Back on two legs, he whipped around and morphed once more. A rhino was always a solid play when you didn’t quite know what you were dealing with. He kicked up the rubble under his front foot and ducked his head, preparing for a  running start. Then he let his momentum carry him forward--feeling the power of an entire stampede in his muscles--which turned out to be much more than he bargained for.

It was like the wall came out of nowhere. Or maybe he just hadn’t looked before leaping. Though his horn mdulled the impact slightly, Beast Boy felt every shard of cement as the crash sent a shocking ripple through his entire body. When he opened his eyes, he was back to his usual self again. But unlike a moment ago, his head was spinning, and he was on his back watching the dark clouds rolling above. His vision had doubled, even tripled, and he shook his head wearily in an attempt to focus on anything at all. Instead, he saw the shaking image of someone approaching him. And his gut told him it wasn’t one of the people they were after. It was something much worse.

“What the fuck was that?” Raven said, leaning over him with a disapproving pout on her face.

“Rhino,” was all Beast Boy could manage, his head still spinning.

Raven scowled, but extended a hand out to him regardless. When she yanked him to his feet in one swift motion, the gesture suddenly felt less sympathetic.

“We’re supposed to be working together , moron,” she said, her tone biting. “How the hell are we supposed to do that if you knock yourself out before we even catch up to the bad guys?”

Beast Boy didn’t have an answer for that. So he didn’t give one, which probably didn’t help his case any more.

“God, you’re useless,” Raven said, grabbing his wrist and dragging him behind him. “Come on.”  

They continued down the natural path of the alleyway uneventfully. And that was what worried Beast Boy most. If he wasn’t going to die at the hands of their enemies, he was sure he’d die of embarrassment knowing he’d let them get away. Again.

Luckily for him, if Raven had any more thoughts on the matter she kept them to herself.

When they reached what seemed to be the end of the narrow street, Beast Boy was somewhat relieved to find that it wasn’t the dead end he had been expecting. Rather, the space before them now opened dramatically into something resembling a large courtyard. The entire perimeter was lined by walls of surrounding brick buildings--the only other entrances and exits to the pavilion being opposing alleyways much like the one they’d just emerged from.

But the courtyard’s strange location certainly wasn’t the most interesting thing about it.

In the very center, shrouded by a cloud of steam trickling through a nearby grate, two figures turned abruptly to meet their gaze. Even though Beast Boy could hardly make out the eyes looking back at them, he knew their stare was a threat.

“Don’t do anything stupid,” Raven said quietly, lingering in the shadows for a moment longer.

The words echoed in Beast Boy’s head, this time in his own voice. Then a wave of panic suddenly passed over him. He wasn’t actually sure he knew the difference between what was considered brave and what Raven would consider stupid. And he didn’t exactly have the time to mull it over.  

Raven stood next to him, arms outstretched, as a flurry of flying rubble began to swirl around the two figures like a vicious tornado. Everything pulled toward them like scrap metal to a magnetic core--everything from the pebbles on the ground to full sized wooden beams and crates that littered the edges of the arena.

Beast Boy searched desperately through this mind for something to do--something to be. A mouse? Small enough to go unnoticed, but way too slow to bridge the gap between the opposing sides in such a short time. He thought to the opposite end of the spectrum. A gorilla or a bear could give him a boost of much needed strength if he cut back on speed. But maybe that was too on the nose. Just like the rhino.

He bit his lip nervously, catching Raven in his peripheral again. They were supposed to be working together after all--and she had clearly taken the lead. But he had no idea how she expected him to follow.

And suddenly, it occurred to Beast Boy that that was the secret to the riddle. The one way he could truly and certainly ‘not do something stupid’ was by not doing anything at all.

For a moment, he was almost proud of himself for finally cracking the code. But the false sense of pride evaporated as soon as he realized what it implied. Maybe his only use was...being completely useless? And just like that, he felt his stomach twist in a knot again as a familiar sense of embarrassment washed over him.

“Hellooo?” Raven’s voice rang out suddenly, snapping Beast Boy out of his daze.

He turned to look at her, finding her in the same position, teeth clenched and arms shaking ever so slightly as she held her pose.  

“I said not to do anything stupid ,” she snarled. “Not ‘don’t do anything at all’!”

Beast Boy blinked hard, absorbing her words--the hint of need in her voice, however faint. And suddenly, miraculously, his feeling of uncertainty disappeared as quickly as it had come.

In a flash he was a mighty T-Rex, half as tall as the building behind him. Charging forward, he reached down and fished out one of the criminals from the fading cyclone. Grabbing the figure by the arm, he swung them into the adjacent wall with ease, a cloud of dust gathering upon the point of contact. A hit that would probably kill the average person; but Beast Boy knew that right now he was just buying time.

From the corner of his eye, he caught the second figure starting to pull out a small radio, shielding it from the winds as they spoke into the device.

But before they could utter more than a sentence or two, Beast Boy spun around, sweeping them off their feet completely with his enormous tail. The person went flying at a ninety degree angle from the last, and he watched as the body hit the crumbling wall with a ‘definitely unconscious’ crash.

Morphing back, Beast Boy stood tall, admiring his work.

Raven appeared beside him a moment later, surveying the scene.

“Not bad, huh?”

“I warmed them up for you,” Raven said matter-of-factly. But Beast Boy couldn’t stop himself from brandishing another self-satisfied smirk.

Raven automatically went over to the first fallen figure, pushing directly past him as she went. Beast Boy took the hint and headed the opposite direction, preparing to inspect the second wreckage site hound dog style.

Bombarded by a multitude of different scents, he realized that he wasn’t exactly sure what he was looking for. He hoped he would know it when he came across it. And he did--when something cold and metallic brushed up against his nose.

With an obnoxious sneeze that sent his floppy ears soaring, Beast Boy took a step back from the dust cloud he had created in front of him. He squinted, coming back up on the area after the dust had settled to find a small coin-like silver disc buried in the ground. But it looked incomplete somehow, like it was only one half of a whole, given several small divots on the surface of the disc. And there was something else mixed in with the scent of the cool metal. Something thick and tangy. He followed the scent further until he found its source.

“Uh...Raven?” He hesitated, instinctively pulling back from the spot it had led him to.

Directly at his feet, the second figure lay face down in the rubble. Their clothing made it difficult to tell what kind of injuries they sustained, but there was blood. Lots of blood.

At the top of the neck, just under their hairline, a perfect silver circle was embedded in the skin--a corresponding piece almost identical to the one on the ground a few yards away. Except this one was covered in miniature circuits and drenched in the dark red liquid oozing from underneath it.

Beast Boy quickly turned back to pick up the first piece and compare the two. He was certain they had once made a single whole. But the half he inspected in his hand seemed to be no more than the covering to the blood caked battery beneath. There was some writing on it though--and maybe that could tell him something .

In a moment, Raven was beside him again, abandoning her less interesting finds at the other end of the courtyard.

“What is it?” She asked, leaning over to try and get a better look at the item in Beast Boy’s hand.

“I don’t know,” he replied, squinting at the object as he tried to make out the markings engraved on its surface. “A...R...S…,” he read slowly. “It looks like there’s more but I can’t make it out.”

Raven extended her hand, and Beast Boy automatically dropped it into her palm for a second opinion.

“Whoever these people are, they must have something to do with that break in,” she said, flipping the silver piece over in her hand. “I guess Robin was right.”

Beast Boy looked down at the body again with a frown.

“Okay, but we still don’t have any more of an idea what they’re after.”

Raven didn’t say anything. She just stood over the body, staring at it intently--in a way that suggested more than just superficial intrigue.

Suddenly, the small metal badge embedded in the figure’s skin was enveloped in a purple haze, and Beast Boy watched in horror as it began to peel away from the flesh underneath like a perfect silver scab. Leaving behind a gruesome red ring of skin, it slowly floated up and over into Raven’s open pocket.

Beast Boy swallowed hard at the sight, a bitter taste in the back of his mouth. For a split second, he was worried he was about to revisit breakfast in the worst way.  

“Dude...what the fuck ?” he said, eyes darting between the site of the impromptu surgery and Raven’s slightly blood stained pocket. “That’s nasty.”

Raven didn’t even blink. “Yeah, well so are you and Robin still keeps you around so...”

Beast Boy took a step back from the scene, the scent still of blood still lingering a little too strongly for his liking. And after watching Raven pull off something like that without so much as a moan or a grunt from the disc’s owner, he wasn’t so certain the victims were just napping anymore. He tried not to think too much about the potential fate of the person at his feet. He hated the possibility of pushing that boundary--even if they were ‘the bad guys’.

“You know, that actually wasn’t too bad,” Beast Boy said suddenly. His laugh was stifled and unconvincing, but he knew Raven wouldn’t likely acknowledge his discomfort, which was a bit of a relief in its own right. Regardless, he turned on his heel and made a purposeful decision to start walking away from the scene in hopes that she would naturally follow. Luckily, she did.  

“The fight? Or having to be alone with you for more than five minutes?” She said, overtaking him by a step or two. “Because if you’re referring to the latter I’m gonna have to disagree.”

“I mean, but it works. We work. Sometimes,” Beast Boy said, though he was unsure why he was still talking. “It’s like...you know,” he droned on as they walked. “Like oil and vinegar.”

Raven noticeably began to slow her pace. “Like what ?”

“Oil and vinegar. You know. It’s like our flavor ,” Beast Boy said, making some attempt to clarify with a hand gesture.

It was here Raven stopped completely, turning to face him.

“ This ,” she said gesturing between them in return, “is not a flavor .”

Beast Boy shrugged, crossing his arms over his chest. “Well I still think it’s a good metaphor.”

“Why? Raven replied, mimicking his pose. “Because we can’t stand being together and naturally repel each other?”            

“Buuuuut,” Beast Boy added pointedly, “sometimes when you put us together you get an affordable and delicious salad dressing.”

Raven paused. She closed her eyes, raising her hand to her temple in a deep, meditative stillness before opening her mouth to speak. “You know, sometimes I really wonder how I haven’t killed you by now. Even accidentally.”

Beast Boy frowned. “Just to be clear, you’re the vinegar in this situation.”

The two began to walk again, but Beast Boy only made it a few steps before Raven thrust a hand out in front of him, stopping him mid-stride. And this time it didn’t seem to be because of anything he’d said.

“What?” he blurted out stupidly. At least this time Raven would be able to understand him.

Raven was completely still for a moment longer, her eyes slowly scanning the area around them. “You didn’t hear that?” she said quietly.

“Hear what?” Beast Boy said, again the words feeling stupid and redundant the moment he uttered them.

“Something other than the sound of your own voice,” Raven said under her breath.

Beast Boy looked all around them, just as Raven had. But he didn’t see anything. Let alone hear anything out of the ordinary.

“You’re just being paranoid,” he said, lightly pushing her arm back down to her side. “There were only two of them. You saw on Robin’s map.”

Raven didn’t seem too comforted by the reminder.

Beast Boy moved slightly to meet her gaze, which was focused somewhere far off in the distance. “I’m tellin’ ya. Oil and vinegar.”

Then, with a little more force than he expected, Raven pushed pushed past him and began to walk again.  

“Where are you going?” Beast Boy said, somewhat startled.

“Home.”

“Didn’t you wanna sweep the area first?”

“Not if it means twenty more minutes of this,” Raven said, waving her hand dismissively. “Besides, I’m just being ‘paranoid’.”

“Okay, well so much for working together then I guess,” Beast Boy said, rolling his eyes.

Raven shot him a look over her shoulder. Then, in an instant, she froze, eyes growing wide as she opened her mouth to say something.

But Beast Boy beat her to it.

He wasn’t sure the noise he made was completely human, even if the small blade twirling in the dirt just past him hadn’t completely hit its mark. He bit his lip to keep himself from another outburst. It had only grazed the side of his calf, but that was enough to bring him to one knee. He knew that if it had hit him the way it had been intended, he’d be on the ground.

Suddenly, everything around him was engulfed in shadow--and Beast Boy wondered if this was what people meant when they talked about ‘blacking out’. He really hoped that wasn’t what was happening. Not in front of Raven of all people. And not over a glorified paper cut .  

A moment later, finding he was still very much conscious, Beast Boy was relieved to find that Raven was the source of the shadowy dome that now surrounded them on all sides. But the relief didn’t last long.

Beyond the opaque screen of darkness, there was a ceaseless blur of motion. Hundreds of tiny silver sparks rebounded off the outer edge, like hail raining down in a terrible storm.

Beast Boy glanced up at Raven from where he knelt on the ground. She was gritting her teeth, brow furrowed and eyes aglow. She didn’t so much as blink when he looked at her, which wasn’t a good sign.

He looked around frantically. Every direction depicted the same terrible scene. Every direction—except for one. It was only now that he noticed how soft the earth was underneath him. How the asphalt of the alleyways seemed to melt away as they worked their way toward the center of the courtyard. And that gave him an idea. An idea Beast Boy didn’t allow himself to think through.

There was something reassuring about being so close to the ground. But the transformation into a badger probably hadn’t been the best for his wound. His leg was starting to ache even more now, and he realized that would probably make digging all the more difficult.  

But before he could test his hypothesis, a voice rang out over the crackling of bullets, clear and strong and demanding to be heard.

“Do you have a death wish?,” Raven yelled, her voice cutting above the static.  

“What do you think?” Beast Boy said, instantly morphing back. The words came out as sharp as the blades whirling around them.

“Well I guess it’s a good thing gophers are bulletproof ,” Raven said with a laugh dripping with anything but humor.

“ Badgers . It’s a badger .” Beast Boy could feel the adrenaline pulsing in his veins like wildfire--even though he knew the reaction was unwarranted, especially given the more concerning matters at hand.

“Really bad time for an argument, Beast Boy. Really bad time,” Raven bit back.

For a split second, Beast Boy thought of going ahead with his plan anyway. Then it occurred to him that he’d probably already used up what little luck he had for the day.

“Okay, so what’s your bright idea?” he said, struggling to hide the growing annoyance in his voice. But all things considered, he really hoped she had one.

“Not dying. That’s my plan,” she said, shutting her eyes tightly.  

Beast Boy looked around nervously--though he wasn’t sure what he was looking for.  

“Can’t you just...teleport us out or something?” he said, biting his lip.

“Teleportation or force field. You get one .”

The second Raven spoke though, she was interrupted by a noise that overtook even the hammering of the bullets around them. The short metallic pings were swapped for one firework-like explosion, the ground beneath them trembling just enough to make Beast Boy second guess his balance. From the looks of it, their attackers hadn’t been so lucky.

The bullets raining down on them slowed to a drizzle--then seemed to stop completely after a few stray shots. But not because the remaining gunmen had ceased fire. Rather, the firing now seemed to be directed somewhere else entirely.

Before Beast Boy could figure out where everyone else had turned their attention, his own focus was redirected again as he felt something cold on his wrist. A hand, gripping onto him with what felt like an unnecessary amount of force.  

Beast Boy felt the ground sway beneath him again uneasily until it disappeared completely, the hard dirt and asphalt replaced by rough gray concrete. When the scene before him came into a clear focus, his stomach lurched. With a primal desperation, he reached out, searching for the hand that had just let go of him. Now he was the one holding on like his life depended on it.  

In front of him now was a perfect aerial snapshot of the pavilion. They had to be at least ten stories up, given the size of the figures below them.

“Um…”

Beast Boy looked up, heart still pounding, though he wasn’t sure the vertigo was responsible for the anxiety he felt now.

Raven was staring at him--or rather their hands intertwined--with a clear level of discomfort. What kind, Beast Boy couldn’t tell.

“You can let go of my hand now,” she said slowly.

Beast Boy flinched, releasing her hand from his own as quickly as he had grabbed it. His knuckles were stiff, flushed by the strain of his grip.

An awkward beat of silence passed between them, broken only when Raven turned to grab something from her pocket.

“What are you doing?” Beast Boy asked, terribly conscious of the slight crack in his voice.

“Calling Robin,” Raven replied, an audible ring echoing from the blood-spotted comms device now resting in her hand.

The two waited for another excruciatingly long moment until the ringing came to an abrupt, unanswered halt.

“I guess he’s busy,” Beast Boy shrugged. But something snagged in his stomach at the thought. Robin probably was very busy. But Beast Boy wasn’t sure he really believed that was why he hadn’t picked up. He took out his own pager anxiously, already flipping through the contacts on the main screen. “Lemme try Cyborg.”

The dial tone cut off after the first ring.

Raven paused for a moment then looked up at him. “I don’t even have a signal.”

Beast Boy looked down at the device in his own hand. Neither did he. “Huh. Well that’s...weird.”

“Yeah,” Raven said, a definitive frown forming on her lips. “And that’s not the only thing that’s a little weird.”

As she spoke, Raven stared down at the pavilion below them, unblinking. She seemed intently focused on...something. But Beast Boy wasn’t entirely sure that it was the fight happening on the ground. A fight that was becoming increasingly hard to follow, even for someone who was trying to keep up with it.

Beast Boy scanned the turf once, then again through the eyes of a hawk, hoping for a better view. Squinting beyond the cloud of dust, he finally was able to hone in on the action--and more importantly, their attackers’ new target.  

The man stood out like a current rolling on a still sea. Rather than trying to dodge the attacks of his pursuers, he danced through the waves with an impossible accuracy, almost as if he were intentionally trying to attract their shots. And he did--like hungry flies to a show horse. Only he never seemed to get bitten. The flies bit themselves. They bit each other. Falling one after the other around him as they continued to follow him further and further away from the center of the pavilion.

Just before the man disappeared into the shadows of the opposite alleyway, Beast Boy finally caught a glimpse of his face amongst the swarming insects--his shiny black hair and toothless grin glistening in the artificial night.

#bbrae #bbrae fanfiction #beast boy teen titans #raven teen titans #dc #i still don't know how to properly use tags lol

[thejakeformerlyknownasprince]

The gang on their wedding days

[Been meaning to post this one for a while — since I’m applying to get married today, now seems like the time.]

Jake steps into the room like a child wandering into his parents’ dinner party.  His bow tie is askew, seams of his jacket misaligned for all that it’s a custom-tailored tuxedo.  If the buttons of his shirt aren’t one hole off from their intended placement, they still manage to convey that impression from across the room.

Rachel feels a rush of affection for him, her first best friend.  The boy who’d run and fought and splashed through mud with her, back before adults started telling her to be careful of her dress and him to be careful of her.  Only he could show up to his own wedding looking like he’s ready to be expelled at any moment.  Only Jake.

And yes, she gets mushy at weddings.  Sue her.

Tom steps up next to Jake, far more elegant in an off-the-rack suit.  Some people actually got the fashionable genes in this family.

Rachel surges across the room.  Tom gets a quick hug, and then she turns all her attention on Jake.

“You only have to look nice for the next three hours,” she tells him briskly.

“Three.  Hours,” Jake repeats.

With expert motions she realigns his… everything, until at the very least the clothes are sitting the way the tailor intended.  She tries to finger-comb his hair, thankful for the heels that put her at an inch above his height, but it’s obvious that he has also been running his hands through it and the style is hopelessly deformed.

“You can survive anything for three hours,” Rachel says as she does all this.  “I’ve seen you do it.”

“But if I mess it up—”

“Then stop, go back, and do whatever it is over.  We’re not exactly on a time pressure, here.  Nobody’s gonna die if you trip at the altar or forget your lines.”

“Okay.”  He stuffs his hands in his pockets, deforming his jacket again.  “Okay.”

She can see him starting to relax as he glances around, shoulders coming down.  Cassie’s place isn’t quite like they remember — it’s been repaired since the war, the Wildlife Rehabilitation Clinic expanded to nearly five times its original size — but it still feels as close to home as any place does.

“Have a glass of water,” Rachel says.

“But what if I have to pee during the ceremony?”

She rolls her eyes.  “Babysit him,” she mouths at Tom.

Tom gives her a gesture in response that approximates What do you think I’ve BEEN doing?  Whether he means the last four hours or the last twenty-six years is, really, a moot point.

Rachel leaves him to it, and charges off to go check on the others.

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

Marco leans against a tent pole, trying to roll one of the rings across his fingers the way Vegas poker players do with chips.  So far it’s not going well.

“Canapé,” Ax is saying carefully.  He attempts to lean next to Marco, nearly going all the way over.  “Can-nap-peee?”

“Uh, no.”  Marco catches the ring as it makes its third or fourth bid for freedom, stuffing it back into his pocket.  “That…”  He tilts his champagne flute to point.  “…is a canopy.  Or a chuppah, I guess.  Canopee.  Canapay is the little pastry thing you’ve already filched in bulk, don’t think I didn’t notice.”

“Ah,” Ax says.  And then, “This temperature and rate of precipitation is within optimal survival parameters for humans, is it not?”

“Nuh-uh, Ax-Man, I will not be pulled in by your smooth small-talk skills.”

“Did you not wish to make conversation?”  Ax frowns.  And then he stuffs another canapé in his mouth.  “This is making conversation,” he adds through the mouthful.

Marco squints.  “Is it, though?”

“It is indeed.  Did you know that the rotating-wheel can opener was patented in 1870?”

Marco’s response to that one gets cut off when Rachel comes charging across the open tent space like a small freight train.  Tobias is balanced on her shoulder, flaring slightly as she runs.  She yanks the champagne flute out of his hand.  Marco makes a squeak of protest, but Rachel just sets it firmly on a bussing tray and turns back to glare at him.

“What did we agree?” she asks sternly.

Marco rolls his eyes.  “That I’d stay sober-ish for the toast, and not do anything too embarrassing.”

“You’re the best man.  You have one job, Marco.”

“Excuse you, the best man’s one job was that banger of a bachelor-slash-ette party we did Wednesday night.  Did you like the part where we all dived out of a helicopter and flew clear through the lower atmosphere to that rooftop bar?  Because—”

“So you got the drinking out of your system.  You promised.”

“Sober-ish, come on, it’s just one wine-spritzer-thing!”

Rachel turns away from him, looking Ax over.  “You realize you’re going to have to demorph and remorph at some point before the ceremony, right?” she asks.  “And that when you do, someone’s going to have to go through the whole kit and caboodle of getting you into that tux all over again?”

“Yes,” Ax says.  “Yes, I do.”

She stares at him.  He stares back, looking as innocent as it is possible to look while also chewing three jalapeño pastries at the same time.

«You should probably just listen to her,» Tobias suggests.  «By the way, where’s your date?  Not that I quake in fear for the wedding cake or anything, but, uh…»

“Menderash has been instructed not to eat anything on a human plate without seeking my opinion first,” Ax says, somewhat stiffly.

“Yeah,” Marco says.  “So far he’s only eaten two earthworms, a candle, some decorative sand, and part of Collette’s bouquet.  You two have nothing to worry about.”

“Part of Collette’s bouquet?” Rachel demands.  “We can’t send a bridesmaid up the aisle without—”

“Already replaced it, I am on top of this.”  Marco flips his hair back from his face.  “I am a flower master.”

«So where is Menderash now?» Tobias asks.

“Helping Cassie’s mom,” Marco explains.

«And Cassie’s mom is…?»

“Delivering a baby cow.”

Rachel makes a noise like she’s choking on air.  “Doesn’t Michelle have vet techs for that kind of thing?  She’s supposed to be getting ready, not, not…”

“It’s cool,” Marco says.  “She’s got her makeup on, her hair is done perfectly, she’s got an apron-thing to keep her dress nice and gloves over her nails, it was a breech birth so they needed a real doctor and Walter was busy supervising the caterers, she’s got Menderash and Steve helping her out—”

“She kidnapped Jake’s dad?” Rachel demands overtop the continuing babble.

“He said he had never delivered an offspring outside of his own species before, and expressed deep curiosity on the subject,” Ax offers.  “Menderash is a certified medic with andalite training, so they should be well-equipped to assist.”

Marco makes jazz hands in the air.  “It’s a free pre-dinner show!  Cow birth.  Better than icebreakers.”

There’s a very long pause.  Rather than dignify that with a response, Rachel turns and stalks away.

Marco watches her go, halfway awed at her ability to navigate an open yard so well while not only wearing six-inch heels and a multi-layer floor-length dress, but also balancing an enormous updo on top of her head and a red-tailed hawk on her left shoulder.

“Is it just me, or did Jake and Cassie make a monster when they asked her to be maid of honor?” Marco says.

«You wanna take over her responsibilities, then?»

Of course Tobias heard that.  Stupid hawk hearing.

“No thank you!” Marco yells after them.

Cassie, meanwhile, is currently picking her way across the open space under the tent, bunches of dress hiked up to above her knees.  This last is, of course, the source of Rachel’s consternation.

“Here.”  Rachel attempts to pull the wads of skirt out of Cassie’s hands and drop them back to the ground.  “You’re going to wrinkle it.”

Cassie stubbornly refuses to let go.  “You told me not to let it drag on the ground.  If I let it down, it’ll drag.”

“Cassie, Cassie.  That is a hand-tailored Christian Dior gown that I commissioned to be custom-fitted to your measurements.  There is no way that it is too long if you let it…”

Cassie drops the bunches of tulle.  The end of the skirt falls all the way down, where the bottom two inches rest, unmistakably, on the muddy ground.

Rachel somehow manages to wince with her entire body while also not moving at all.

«It’s a look,» Tobias suggests, by way of consolation.  «Kind of.»

“How…?”  Rachel peers closer at Cassie.  “Wait, where are your shoes?”

Cassie shrugs, embarrassed.  “Uh, inside somewhere.  I was having trouble balancing in them.”

“Well that’s why!”  Rachel’s emphatic gesture almost dislodges Tobias.  With years’ experience, he dodges her waving arm and retains his perch.  “The dress was tailored to fit you with shoes on.”

“They were getting stuck in the grass—”

“They’re kitten heels!”

“Yeah, and they’re still heels.”  Cassie looks stuck somewhere between amusement and embarrassment.  “I don’t really do heels.  Sorry.”

“Hey Tobias?” Rachel says, as if to thin air.

«Nuh-uh, leave me out, I want no part in—»

“Remember me telling Cassie that we should really try the whole outfit on before the wedding?”

«Uh.  Yes?»

“Do you also remember Cassie agreeing to it, and then the day of, haring off to go try and save a bunch of vultures instead?  Remember how we tried to reschedule, and there was that ALF mission on the same day so she never showed?  Remember that?”

Cassie clears her throat loudly.  “I think it’s a very nice dress.  It’s fluffy and also comfortable, and look!”  She tucks her hands away.  “It has pockets.”

«Vultures are actually fundamental for waste disposal in ecosystems all over the world, and the poisons used on livestock—»

“Do you think you could at least wear the shoes long enough to go up the aisle?” Rachel asks.  “And maybe even for a few photos as well?”

 “Uh.  I’ll try.”  Cassie hikes her skirt back up (Rachel full-body winces again) and starts picking her way across the lawn back toward the house.

“There’s no way I’m going to be able to un-wrinkle it in time,” Rachel mutters.

«Yep.  So you’re just going to have to live with it.»

“I hate living with it.”

«Wanna go check on whatever monstrosity of a replacement bouquet Marco probably inflicted on Collette?»

“Fine, fine.”

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

Cassie walks up the aisle in a custom-tailored gown, an edelweiss and valerian flower crown, and slightly muddy Timberland work boots.  The sole on the boots is apparently tall enough that the skirt does, not, in fact, drag on the ground or get tangled in her feet.

«Somewhere out there,» Tobias comments, «Christian Dior is crying into an overpriced silk handkerchief and doesn’t even know why.»

Marco has never more deeply felt the utter unfairness of Tobias being able to use thought-speak while human, because they’re currently standing at the front of the aisle and he can’t even respond.

But Rachel should still count this one as a win.  The gown looks stunning on Cassie, lacy and princess-ruffled while also having the kind of practical cut that allows her freedom of movement.  And, Marco notes with a smirk, freedom to wear her morphing leotard underneath; the purple spandex is just visible peeking out from underneath the white silk neckline.  He’s got morphing clothes under his own tux — never leaves home without ‘em — so really, he can’t judge.

Plus, Michelle’s got her dress and just her dress on by now, and her locs are still tucked into their silver-beaded updo.  Really, the cow birth was just a momentary inconvenience.

“Hi,” Jake whispers, when Cassie reaches him.

She grabs his hand.  Then she stuffs her bouquet into one of his jacket pockets, and grabs his other hand.  “Hi,” she whispers back.

“This is pretty exciting, huh?”

“Yep.”

Ax clears his throat delicately, and they stop talking.

“There is an Earth tradition,” Ax says to the entire assembly, “that the captain of any ship may perform a wedding ceremony at will.”

In the front row of seats, Michelle laces her fingers through Walter’s.

“Although there is no legal precedent for this custom,” Ax continues, “it is nevertheless possible to become ordained as a wedding officiant if one just completes the proper applications.”

One of Jake’s great-aunts mutters something loudly about the lack of rabbi.  Sarah leans over and kicks her in the ankle.  Rachel beams her approval.

“Therefore, I am here to make official through human custom that which has already been forged through affection and respect.”  Ax looks from Jake to Cassie and back.  “The bond between warriors who have fought and faced death together can be neither lessened nor improved upon by mere ceremony.  The honor shared between two such beings who have chosen to risk loving each other in spite of knowing the reality of loss is one that we recognize today.  We can recognize it, but not sanctify it beyond the sanctity of what these two humans have already shared.”

Rachel lets out an audible sniffle.  Marco does his best not to smirk at her.  It’s not that sappy a speech.

“I have been assured that the bond between two humans who like each other far exceeds the bond between those who merely enjoy each other’s company,” Ax says.

And now Marco has to fight the urge to bang his head against the nearest support pole.

“I have witnessed this myself.”  Ax stares around the room.  “I have witnessed compromise and forgiveness, compassion and challenge between these two.  I therefore believe it is correct and proper that this bond be formally recognized by the State of California.  Is there anything you would wish to add?” he says to Jake and Cassie.

Cassie leans up on tip-toe.  Jake bends to meet her.

She whispers her vows into his ear, not bothering to share with the rest of the gathering.  After a moment, tears on his face, he leans in and whispers back.

Recognizing his cue, Marco grabs the rings and passes them over.  They’re boring-looking, in his opinion, plain silicon bands without anything shiny.  But they’re also easy to morph, easy to shovel manure while wearing, easy to wear without catching on anything.  Very Cassie.  Very Jake.

Speaking of which, the Timberlands prove to be a good call.  When the time comes, Cassie stomps the shit out of that ceremonial glass.

**********

In a slight break with tradition, Rachel and Tobias are actually the first ones to go back down the aisle.  Then Marco wheels Collette out, followed by Tom and Melissa, then Jake and Cassie go.  That way, Rachel’s got time to sprint back over to the main tent and check on the banquet.

Most of the tables are arranged correctly, the centerpieces in place and the cards arrayed.  Rachel does a mad sprint of the room, straightening decorations and confirming with the caterers that they got all the instructions about who needs what in their diet.  Between the number of kosher eaters on Jake’s side and the number of vegetarians on Cassie’s, Rachel made the call to go all the way to a fully vegan buffet.  That’s probably going to get some of the relatives complaining about kids these days and rabbit food, but there’s no pleasing everyone.

Rachel deftly switches a few of the placecards, thereby putting Jordan on point to deal with their great-aunt and grandmother who have both already overindulged at the open bar, muttering an apology as she does.  She puts Tobias to work making sure the bows on the backs of chairs are straight, and rushes up to the long table at the front to confirm that the armless chair meant to accommodate Cassie’s bulky skirt is in the correct place.

D.J. is here, playlist at the ready.  Dance floor is clear of grass.  Weather’s holding, but tent covers are on standby.

Slightly sweaty, she rushes back out with a chair under each arm just in time to catch the guests coming across the lawn.

“Everyone except the parents, head off to the cocktail hour!” she calls.  “Jake, Cassie, moms and dads, with me.”

While Marco’s date (a photographer named Dakota) sets up the camera, Rachel goes into a flurry of motion straightening bowties, adjusting hairdos, and touching up makeup.  Steve’s got a spot of cow blood on his forehead, she discovers to her horror, and by the time she’s done scrubbing that off Jake’s managed to get his tuxedo jacket misaligned again.  Finally she steps back, breathing hard, and nods to Dakota.

Everyone smiles.  The camera goes off.

“Okay.”  Rachel claps her hands loudly, because Jake and Cassie are looking ready to stand up and go join the reception.  “That’s one down, just twenty-three to go.”

********

Rather than tossing her whole bouquet all at once, Cassie picks it apart and gives a single flower to every single guest she can find.  When the bouquet itself runs out, she disassembles her flower crown and hands that out piece by piece until everyone’s got at least one blossom.  It just seems fairer that way, she says when Rachel asks.

Several of the traditions, Rachel reflects, seem to be lost on Jake and Cassie.  They cut the first piece of cake… and immediately hand it to Ax.  And then they cut the second piece, and the third piece, and keep right on cutting slices of cake and handing them out to people until Rachel has to step in and wrest the knife away.  She’s grateful that they refrain from any of the food-fighting nonsense, since both their wedding outfits are headed to a charity auction first thing tomorrow morning, but honestly.  They’re supposed to eat the first two slices, not drop half a tier of cake into the black hole of hungry andalite.

Cake served, Marco clinks a fork against a glass.  “Ladies, gentlemen, and proletariats!”

There’s a general murmur as people look around, trying to spot who’s speaking.

With a hand from Jake, Marco climbs bodily onto the banquet table.  “Everyone!” he shouts, and now they’re all looking at him.  At him, and at the champagne flute in his hand.  “Jake and Cassie!”

It gets a polite round of applause.

“Gotta start at the beginning, right?”  Marco looks around the room, grinning.  “So there I am, some snot-nosed three-year-old, minding my own business.  And this chubby, dorky-looking little white kid comes running up to me and is like…”  He leans in.  “‘You wanna be my best friend?’”

He grins at Jake, who is flushing bright red.

“I shit you not, that was his opening line.  ‘You wanna be my best friend?’  So I’m like…”  Marco pantomimes reeling back in shock.  “I dunno man, seems like a lot of commitment to make to a total stranger.  You want explore our options first, maybe get a prenup, see if we’re compatible?  I mean, for all I know five years from now you’re gonna find some younger, hotter best friend and then there I’ll be out on my ear with nothing to show for it.”

There’s a smattering of laughter throughout the room.  Marco visibly draws strength from it.

“But you know what?”  Marco leans down to look around, smiling like he’s got a secret.  “Little dork kept right on showing up to my house and letting me use his television and getting his mom to give me fluffer nutters, and next thing I know it turns out he really is my best friend.  I think he was onto something.

“Anyway, you think that one was bad…”  He raises his eyebrows.  “Couple years later, there we are in first grade, and this girl in teeny-tiny first-grader overalls comes into the room like…”  

Marco claps one hand over the top of his champagne flute and clamps the other under the base, and actually walks a few steps down the table with the determined air of a very small and klutzy version of Cassie.

“And her opening line is…”  Marco raises the flute to his mouth like it’s a microphone, dropping his voice.  “‘You wanna see my moth?’”

Again, there’s a smattering of laughter.  Cassie has a hand over her mouth, halfway doubled over in giggles at the memory.

“Now, us being minuscule and all, I’m like ninety-nine percent sure that there was no double entendre going on here,” Marco says.  “And I have to admit, no one has used that line on me since.  So I say ‘sure,’ because I’m like six years old and this seems like a reasonable question.  She lifts her hand up…”

Marco accompanies this with a pantomime of peering through his own fingers into his champagne.

He looks up.  “And it’s not even a freaking moth!” he cries out.  “Turns out, it’s just some little worm thing.  So I tell her.”  He puts on a snotty voice, mocking his younger self.  “‘That’s not a moth, that’s just some little worm thing.’”

There’s a pause.  Marco glances around the room.  “See if you can tell where this story’s going.”

Marco and Cassie glance at each other.  Cassie’s grinning smugly.

“She puts it in the classroom’s terrarium,” Marco drawls.  “It turns into a rock.  Two weeks later, rock cracks open and out pops a moth.”

The room cracks up again.

“So fast forward another few years, and she’s standing there holding this eight-eyed, venom-fanged thing.  And she’s all like ‘just touch the spider, Marco.  Don’t you want to be a spider, Marco?  Isn’t it cute and fuzzy?’  As if she is completely unaware that she’s holding a giant-ass eight-legged freak.”  Marco takes a sip for strength.  “And right then, I look at Jake.  And I’m thinking Jake, don’t ever let this girl go.  Because if she doesn’t even think wolf spiders are ugly, then she’s got no idea about you.  So here’s to Jake and Cassie.  Made for each other, because no one else will have ‘em.”

Jake pokes Marco in the ankle, but he’s laughing as he does it.

“All right,” Marco says, “brace yourselves, and someone get some more tissues for my second mama, because I’m about to get sappy.  I love you, Jean!” he calls.  “I know we all gotta cry it out sometimes.”

She laughs and flaps a dismissive hand at him, but she’s also misty-eyed already.

“Dudes, I gotta be honest.”  Marco is looking at Jake and Cassie.  “I didn’t think we’d get here.  I honestly did not believe, for a good long while there, that there were gonna be any weddings or graduations or driver’s licenses in any of our futures.  Just seemed like a good idea not to bet on any of us having any futures, you know?  Seemed like it might be the surest option.”

Cassie laces her fingers through Jake’s.  Silently, her mouth pressed into a line, she nods.

“So, uh.”  Marco sniffs, spinning back around and thrusting his champagne flute into the air.  “Here’s to me being wrong, yeah?”

“To Marco being wrong!” Jake echoes, and tosses back his glass.

“To Marco being wrong!” the entire room calls back.

Marco jumps back down, Cassie and Jake catching him as he lands.

**********

After everyone but Menderash and Ax has finished eating, it’s Tom who becomes the next one to tink a fork against a glass for attention.

“In the spirit of full disclosure,” he tells the room, strolling slowly toward the head table.  “I promised my brother there wouldn’t be a horah.”  Tom stops, directly next to Cassie.  “But what he didn’t know is that I’d already made a promise to my new sister-in-law that there would be.  So what’s a guy to do?”

He snaps his fingers.

At this cue, several things happen at once.  The DJ switches to “Hava Nagila.”  Several people mob Jake at once.  Tom grabs Cassie and lifts her bodily over his head, carrying her chair and all to the middle of the dance floor.

With a squeak of laughter, Cassie grabs the top of Tom’s head for balance.  Jake is being hauled out next to her on a chair of his own, supported by Tobias and Menderash and Rachel and James.  Marco and Ax are herding the rest of the gathering, shoving people into a circle and linking arms together as they go.

“I hate you!” Jake calls over the sound of the music and his own fit of giggles.

“Gotta keep the in-laws happy!” Tom yells back, unrepentant.

*********

“You sure you’ve got everything you need?” Rachel asks.

Cheyenne, the head caterer, gives her a double thumbs-up.  The staff are tipped and most are ready to go, having divvied up the several extra schaeffers’ worth of falafel and butternut squash puree and other entrees that Rachel’d set aside for them.  Melissa is set to take over tending bar from here, as planned, and she’s going to keep the groomsmen after for a few minutes for cleanup duty.

“Okay.”  Rachel glances around at where the last of the countertops are getting a quick once-over with disinfectant.  “Okay.  If anything comes up…”

“I have your number.”  Cheyenne smiles and nods.

Pushing back out of the room, Rachel heads for the gift table.  Everything looks like it’s in good order, but she wants to make sure it all gets packed up properly and that none of the cards get lost in the kerfuffle.  It’s mostly donation receipts, at Jake and Cassie’s request, but some of the traditionalists on both sides came with soup tureens or the like —

“Hey.”  Jake catches her by the arm.

Rachel turns to look at him.  “What’s wrong?  Is it the great-aunts?”

“Nothing’s wrong.  It’s all perfect.”  He’s smiling shyly.  “Thanks.”

“I need to check on the gifts,” Rachel says, because she’s a coward who doesn’t know how to do mushy conversations, especially not with Jake.

“The gifts are fine,” he says.  “It’s all fine.  Because you made it that way.  So… thanks.”

When he pulls her into a hug, Rachel can’t resist straightening his hair one last time even as she returns the embrace.  “You realize I do this for fun, right?” she asks, holding him at arm’s length and looking him in the eye.  “Like, I could’ve hired a wedding planner, but honestly why bother?”

He shrugs.  “Doesn’t mean I don’t appreciate everything.  All of it.  Without you, Cassie and I wouldn’t even…”

Then, because this is all getting too honest, Rachel links her arm through his and drags him onto the dance floor for, he’s about to realize, their middle school gym class’s favorite godawful square dance.

*********

When she has do-si-doed Jake within an inch of his life, Rachel tosses him at Cassie.  She pivots around and gives Tobias a flourishing courtesy; he returns it with an equally ridiculous bow.

“It is marvelous, how well they have adapted their balance to compensate for their lack of legs,” Menderash comments to Ax.

“Very true.”  Ax leans next to him against the bar.  They are currently sharing a delicious beverage Melissa has made for them, simply by unscrewing the lid from a nearly-empty jar of olives and handing over the remaining liquid.

It is true, some of the dancers are more talented than others.  Michelle and Walter are synchronized with each other and the beat of the music, even if their choice of moves is not nearly as audacious as the spinning thing Marco and Dakota are doing.  The bride and groom, meanwhile, are looking at their own feet and keep bumping into each other as they move.  Between their relative unconcern with anyone but each other and the broad hem of Cassie’s dress, the other couples are giving them a wide berth.

“Do you wish to attempt such feats?” Ax asks, glancing at Menderash.

Menderash gives a full-body shudder.  He flaps one hand in an andalite gesture that, if translated to English, would approximate fuck that.

Ax grins, drinking more olive juice.

“Have you done such a thing?” Menderash asks.

“Never for very long,” Ax says.

Jake and Cassie have given up on dancing entirely, descending into a giggle fit in the middle of the dance floor as they both attempt to disentangle Jake’s cuff link from the lace of Cassie’s hem.  Rachel swirls by, briefly blocking their view.  She’s switched partners.  Dakota is doing their best to teach Tobias how to waltz while Marco and Rachel are now swing-dancing their way across the dance floor.

As both andalites watch in awe, Rachel spins Marco in a circle, swinging him out and then drawing him back close to her body.  Marco pirouettes, throwing his head back so that his hair flares around his face, and then throws himself backwards.  Rachel catches him neatly around the waist, dipping him nearly to the floor.  Marco braces on her shoulders and she flings him upward with her whole body so that she actually lifts him off the floor for a second before gracefully sweeping him back down.  They separate until just the tips of their fingers are touching, and then spin back together until Marco suddenly swoops under Rachel’s arm, coming up on the far side as she pivots around in time fro him to fall back against her.

Ax is reminded of the way they fight.  There’s something almost joyful in their ferocity on the battlefield.  There’s something almost frightening in their enthusiasm on the dancefloor.  Neither of them seems to know how to do anything by half measure.

One by one the other clusters of dancers have stopped to watch as well.  Jake and Cassie, now sitting hopelessly tangled up in each other, seem quite happy to have the spotlight stolen.

Rachel swoops an arm around Marco’s waist and slides into a back-and-forth tango step.  Within two beats he’s caught on, falling into the same rhythm as her.  When the tempo of the song changes he grabs her shoulder and nudges her into a circular waltz.  They’re unrehearsed, and inexpert, but moving with such force and communicating so rapidly that it doesn’t really matter.

“Yes,” Menderash says softly, “I very much do not wish to attempt to dance.”

Ax smiles at him over the rim of the olive jar.  It’s empty, and in the time it takes him to set it back on the bar and catch her eye, Melissa has replaced it with maraschino cherry liquid.

The song crescendos; Marco leans his full weight back as Rachel flings him into a long spiraling turn that ends with him sliding on his knees clear between her legs, popping up behind her just in time to brace as she tips backward into him.  She spins once, twice, four times, then swings him into a dip so low that his hair brushes the floor.

As the song ends they freeze like that, chests heaving, hair damp with sweat.

They both seem to become aware at once that the whole room’s watching them.  Marco opens his mouth to say something, when Rachel’s smile turns wicked.  That’s the only warning he gets before she opens her arms and lets him drop.  Marco squawks indignantly, throwing out both elbows to catch himself.  He gets ahold of Rachel’s arm and tries to yank her down as well, but ends up pulling himself to his feet as well.

The whole room breaks out into clapping.  Marco sweeps into a low bow.  Rachel visibly considers pushing him over again before deciding against it.  Instead she runs to try and rescue Cassie’s hand-sewn lace hem and Jake’s antique silver cufflinks from their respective owners’ incompetence.

*********

“Hey Tobias?” Rachel says around a yawn.

«Uh-huh?»

Idly they watch as Tom waltzes Cassie’s grandmother around the dance floor.  She’s 4’11” to his 6’4”, so it’s pretty hilarious to witness.  But at least they’re not totally mismatched: each has a single sprig of valerian from Cassie’s bouquet tucked behind one ear.

She and Tobias are sitting on the ground at one corner of the dance floor.  Rachel’s got her shoes off to massage her aching ankles, and Tobias is perched back on her shoulder.  With clever motions of his beak he’s fishing the pins out of her hair one by one, dropping them into her hand as he slowly disassembles her updo.

“How do you feel about never, ever getting married?” Rachel asks.

Tobias drops another bobby pin into her hand.  «Best idea you’ve had all year.»

#animorphs #animorphs ficlet #animorphs au #(sadly) #long post #weddings #jake/cassie #cake #alcohol mention #rachel berenson #is the canonically biggest cassie/jake shipper on the planet #do it for her #anonymous #asks

[keanureevesisbae]

Coach Cavill - Chapter 7

Summary: Amelia is about to go on her first date with coach Cavill

Coach!Henry Cavill x Amelia Jung (Asian ofc)

Wordcount: 3.3k

Warnings: None

A/N: To celebrate the fact that I am done with school for a while, I thought I’d post (part one of) their date with you! I hope you like it 💕 please let me know if you want to be on the taglist!

Masterlist // Previous chapter // Next chapter

Within an hour I had to dress up to look splendid that Friday, because I didn’t want Dean to see how beautiful I was going to look. Maybe the stress dressing up under sixty minutes also had to do with the poor state of my planning today, but we are simply going to ignore that.

The entire week I have been looking forward to this. During the training yesterday, Henry kept stealing glances from me, after he made me a wonderful cup of cappuccino. It’s weird really, how head over heels I’m becoming, in just a matter of a little more than a week.

While everything Dean was exciting and somehow terrifying, since he was mysterious and a little hard to get, this instant connection I have with Henry feels so safe and familiar. I can’t stop thinking about him, to a point where Ricky, Annabelle and the rest of the little ones in my class kept asking me if I was doing okay. However, they figured out pretty soon I was a bit in love and now they continue to make kissy sounds during the day.

‘You look fucking hot,’ Eve says, as she brushes through my hair. ‘Lucky mister Henry Cavill.’

‘Is it too much?’ I ask, as I smooth down my tight dark blue dress, that Isabella insisted on me wearing and it’s a good fit: I mean, it accentuates the few curves I have. I look down at the matching high heels and sigh deeply. ‘It’s too much,’ I conclude.

‘No, honey, it’s not too much. You look beautiful and I know that Henry will think so too. Besides, he is already smitten with you, so I don’t think you have anything to worry about.’

I let out a sigh again. ‘It’s just that I’m nervous. How long has it been since I had my last first date?’

‘When you were nineteen,’ Eve answers my rhetorical question. ‘I know that, but that went well too and since Henry is an absolute angel, this date will go without a hitch, I can guarentee. And besides, you have done things much more terrifying than this. You went to South Korea, debuted in a girl group. A full one eighty in career choices when you got here, went on a date with the mysterious hottie Dean, somehow made that work. Plus, you were a total bad ass and gave birth to Isabella on your own, who was breeched.’

I roll my eyes. ‘I highly doubt you can compare giving birth to a first date.’

‘What I want to make clear to you, is that you are fierce and awesome and Henry knows that too.’ Eve and I both yelp when the doorbell rings. ‘Your future husband is here.’

‘Shut up,’ I say, as we walk down the stairs. She stuffs something in my clutch and hands it to me. ‘What on earth did you put in here?’ I hiss, as I grab my coat from the rack.

‘A condom.’

I halt all my movements. ‘You did what?’

‘Better to be safe than sorry.’

Before I can tell her off and that I’m really not going to have sex with Henry on the first date, she pushes me to the door and I quickly put on my coat, before I open the door.

I’m hit with the realization that I’m going on a date with the most beautiful man on this planet. He looks illegally handsome, with his nice suit jacket hanging open, that matches with his black pants. He is wearing a white blouse, nicely tucked into his pants and the tease has the two top buttons open and the sight of his chest (and the chest hair) is making my mouth dry.

‘Wow,’ he says with a beautiful smile, ‘you look beautiful, Amelia.’

This is going to kill me. How am I supposed to survive this entire night? ‘It’s not too much?’ I ask, just to be sure and first date jitters taking the upper hand.

He shakes his head. ‘This is exactly right.’

I turn to Eve, who is holding in a squeal. After being friends with her for so long, I know every facial expression. ‘Only call me if it is a matter of life or death,’ I tell her.

‘Have I ever called you when it was not important?’ I cock an eyebrow and she nods. ‘Right, I have done that before. I’m sorry. Won’t do it tonight, promise.’

‘Very good. Please, don’t wait up and don’t sit on the front porch with the twins, because I know you three want to do that.’

Eve slaps me on my ass, before I step out of the house and I sincerely hope that Henry hasn’t seen that. From the looks of it seems like he hasn’t seen that, but maybe he is just polite and doesn’t show me he has seen it. ‘Don’t look back,’ I tell Henry, as we walk towards his truck. ‘She’ll embarrass either one of us if we do so.’

Henry can’t help but laugh and he opens the door of his truck. ‘Do I have to give you a boost or can you manage?’

‘Oh shut up,’ I chuckle as I get in the car, after I took his hand. ‘Because I’m short, I have developed cat woman like skills. You should see me in the classroom, when I have to grab something from the top shelf.’

‘I’ll believe that right away.’ He closes the door and I wave to Eve, who nods approvingly and gestures something about how firm his butt looks. I mean, I can only agree to that, but once again, sure as hell hope he hasn’t seen any of that.

Henry gets in the truck and before he puts the key in the ignition, he looks to the side, meeting my eyes. ‘What?’ I ask him.

‘You look breathtaking,’ he whispers, almost as if he doesn’t want me to hear this compliment.

I’m at a loss for words. ‘Oh,’ I manage to choke out. ‘Thanks…’

He clears his throat. ‘I’m just a little nervous.’

‘What? Why? If someone should be nervous, it’s me. One, I’m going on a date with you and two, my last first date was sixteen years ago.’

He chuckles, but he sounds really nervous. ‘Well, mine might’ve not been that long ago… But I have never been on a date with someone like you.’

‘Do you mean that in a good way or…?’

Henry’s eyes widen. ‘In a good way, of course,’ he hastily says. ‘It’s more that you are way out of my league.’

What? ‘I think I was hallucinating. What?’

‘I mean, have you even seen yourself? You are admirable, in any way.’

Is this how it feels when your heart not only is figuratively melting, but also literally? ‘Oh.’

‘You are truly one of a kind, Amelia and I sure hope I meet up to what you deserve.’

Okay, I’m officially blanking. What are words?

Henry smiles and starts the car. ‘I hope you like the place I booked. I heard some pretty good things about it.’

✰ ✰ ✰

Leave it to Henry fucking Cavill to not only book a spot at my favorite restaurant here in town, but also to have a secluded spot that I didn’t know was here. We sit on the patio, a heater pointed at us to keep us warm, as we look over the lake. We are surrounded by romantic Christmas lights, as we sit next to each other on the soft couch. His arm is resting on the back, his thumb softly drawing circles on my shoulder.

He hands me a glass of wine and I can’t help but melt a bit against his frame. ‘You did amazing,’ I say. ‘I really like this spot. I never even knew it was here. How did you discover this?’

‘I might’ve had some help from Greg.’

‘Convenient store Greg?’ I ask. ‘You two becoming friends?’

‘Yeah, I’m there quite a lot. He sometimes watches Kal when I’m not home for too long of a time. Annabelle constantly tells him that she loves Kal, so that’s a plus.’

‘Annabelle is in my class,’ I say. ‘A true angel. A cheeky one, but she is such a delight to have in class.’

Henry smiles, taking a sip of his wine. We’re still waiting for our food to arrive, but the wine will do just fine for now. ‘It’s quite the one eighty, to go from a K-Pop idol to a kindergarten teacher.’

‘Oh, you have no idea,’ I chuckle. ‘It was so weird, to go from that hectic world, fans screaming your name, photoshoot here, there, dance practice and just never not busy, back to Luna Meadows, where every second seems to tick at least three times. I had to spend three months in the barn in the back of my parents yard, to simply talk with Eve and Johnny, getting used to this pace again. It was nice to be back here though, since this will always be my home.’

He nods. ‘So, you come back to Luna Meadows when you were eighteen, go back to college and…’

‘And I met Dean, when I was nineteen, was twenty one when I had Benji, somehow got my degree and after I graduated, I married Dean.’

‘Wow,’ he says. ‘That is top tier multitasking.’

‘That’s what I thought so,’ I chuckle, taking a sip of my wine. ‘It was really important for me to finish college, because, I wanted to be able to provide for myself and even after I graduated, I worked three days a week. I’m not equipped to be a full-time house wife. I tried that for two months and then I became mad.’

Henry laughs. ‘And now you work full-time.’

‘I do, indeed. It’s the only way I can continue to pay for the house. I don’t want to move away from Eve and her baby sit service.’

He nods in agreement. ‘You are very lucky to have friends that care so much and do so much for you.’

‘I sure am,’ I say with a smile. I take another sip, before I ask: ‘What about you? Why did you leave Jersey to move here?’

‘I was a judo coach there and worked in a cafe. However, some family stuff happened and I had to get out of there.’ Henry clears his throat and shakes his head. ‘I’m sorry.’

‘No, no, you don’t want to talk about it, I totally understand it. Just, tell me how you got into judo then.’ I turn a bit to the side and oh my, I can feel his strong body against mine, but weirdly enough it doesn’t make me nervous anymore.

‘Oh, that was something me and my grandpa had together. All of my brothers were into team sports, like lacrosse, football and rugby.’

My eyes widen. ‘You have brothers?’

‘Mhm, four,’ he says.

‘Your mom had five kids?’ I ask him.

He can’t stop his laugh. ‘She did.’

‘Mad respect,’ I say. ‘I don’t want to be too TMI, but I had to recover six years after I had Benji before I even thought about adding another one. Not the point, Amelia,’ I quickly realize letting out a soft chuckle. ‘Your brothers were into team sports.’

Henry nods, a smile evident on his lips. ‘My entire family was obsessed with everything team sport related, including us as a family. I liked to do things solo, just like my granddad and that’s how judo became our thing. My family supported me and judo, of course, but… I knew they didn’t really like the sport as much as my granddad and I liked it. When I was twenty, I was actually doing pretty well. Competing in national tournaments, even some international ones.’

I frown. ‘Why do I feel a however coming up?’ I ask him.

He snickers. ‘However, I broke my leg in three places when I was in the gym.’

‘Oh no,’ I say, as I shiver.

‘Yeah, it was pretty bad,’ he chuckles. ‘But judo was my life and I couldn’t just let it go, so I started to work as a trainer and coach, but I didn’t make enough money to provide for myself, so I also worked in a cafe.’

I nod. ‘And why did you choose Luna Meadows?’

He shrugs. ‘It just felt right. And that’s where I met the most amazing judoka I have ever seen. Benji is miles ahead of not only everyone here, but also to everyone I have ever encountered.’

‘Including you?’

‘Including me,’ he laughs. ‘He is amazing.’

‘That’s because he has some judo genes from his amazing mother,’ I chuckle, as I throw my hair over my shoulder. ‘I was quite something back in the days.’

He chuckles. ‘So, what does Isabella do?’

‘She is in a drama club. When she was younger, she would force Benji, Yara, Jake and Lola to be side characters in a play she made up, where she was the main character. She is overly dramatic and I figured that I would do the other kids a favor if I would put her in a drama club. Yara and she go every Tuesday, Wednesday and Sunday after school with Eve.’

‘It must be amazing to have a friend this close living to you.’

‘It does,’ I say, as I stare at my wine. ‘Made the whole divorce thing a whole lot better to handle.’

‘I imagine. Divorce is never easy.’

‘Experience or…?’ I carefully ask.

‘I was married,’ he says, ‘but the second we said ‘I do’, it was already a lost cause, really. Actually, we never really fit together.’

I take a sip of my wine, but I place my other hand on his strong leg. Normally I wouldn’t be this forward, but it feels so warm and comfortable. ‘Is she part of the reason that you had to leave Jersey?’

He shakes his head. ‘No, we were married from my twenty fifth to my twenty seventh.’

Okay, he doesn’t want to continue to talk about it and for some reason I can’t stop the words from coming out of my mouth. ‘You know, I never thought I’d go on a date again.’

‘Why not?’

‘Because everyone in this town knows that I got divorced and everyone had an opinion about it,’ I whisper. ‘You know, I wasn’t exactly the most loved. A lot of them thought it was my fault that Dean started to see someone else. I wasn’t a good enough wife, who didn’t love her husband enough.’

When I look up, I see that Henry has clenched his jaw, before taking a sip of his wine. ‘That’s bullshit.’

‘I know,’ I say mostly out of disbelieve. ‘But good things happen to good people and now I met you.’

‘Moving to Luna Meadows was a good move on my behalf.’

Our pasta arrives and I sit up a bit straighter. ‘This looks delicious,’ I say, twirling around my fork, to twist the spaghetti around it. ‘Henry Cavill, you sure know how to swoop a woman off her feet.’

Henry smiles, taking a bite of his pasta. It’s different than mine, but it looks delicious. I can see him ogling my plate as well and I guess the grass is indeed greener on the other side. ‘Here,’ I say, with a fork full of pasta. I hold it above my other hand, so I won’t spill something on any of us. I now realize that it might be weird to feed a grown man on our first date, but I can’t go back now.

‘You’re a natural,’ he chuckles, before taking a bite. ‘Oh, yours is really good. Want a bite of mine?’

‘Sure,’ I say with a blush creeping up on my cheeks. He is a little clumsy, but somehow manages to bring the fork to my lips, without it spilling on my dress. With his thumb he wipes the corner of my mouth clean. ‘Am I tasting some cinnamon?’

‘That was what I was thinking,’ he says. ‘I would never put cinnamon in my pasta, but it is really tasty and it actually works.’

‘I once accidentally added honey to the chicken and somehow it turned out to be pretty okay.’

‘Yeah, Benji told me you weren’t a great cook.’

I hide my face in my hands. ‘I may have burned quite a few meals in my kitchen. One time, for Thanksgiving, I attempted to cook for Eve and Johnny, because they were having a bit of a rough time, with Lola being admitted into the hospital and all. However, I burned the entire meal, the kitchen was filled with smoke and I had a complete meltdown. Isabella called my parents and somehow my mom saved the day.’

Henry’s shoulder shake as he laughs. ‘That would be quite the sight.’

‘Oh, it was terrible. Can you imagine if I was a full time housewife? I think I’d have the fire department on speed dial.’

I want to add something to this (believe me, I have tons of stories of me nearly burning down my place), but my phone starts to ring and I quickly open my clutch to check the screen.

It’s Eve.

Part of me doesn’t want to take it, but I know that she took her promise serious. ‘I’m so sorry,’ I say.

‘Please, take it,’ Henry encourages me, when he sees me hesitating.

I pick up and say: ‘Eve, this better be very important.’ However I don’t hear her voice, but I hear Benji yelling in the background and that is something I barely understand. ‘What’s wrong? Is everything okay?’

‘I have no idea,’ Eve manages to say. ‘Isabella is just sitting in the corner of your living room, not speaking at all.’ That can’t be good. ‘Benji is on the edge of losing it, but I feel like he is too much in a rage to listen to any of us and Dean is outside, trying to let himself in, but we locked the door. I’m really sorry to interrupt your date, but I feel like both of your kids need you right now.’

My heart sinks. ‘Oh no,’ I mumble. ‘I’m coming back.’

‘I hate dad,’ I hear Benji yell in the background. ‘I fucking hate him.’

‘Benji, please stop it!’ Lola pleads.

‘This is not working, man,’ Jake adds.

‘Mom, Isabella is crying,’ Yara says.

I hang up, shaking my head. ‘I’m so sorry, Henry, I have to get back. Something is really wrong and according to Eve, Benji is really close to losing it completely and Isabella is not talking, Dean is outside of my house…’

‘I heard it,’ he says, already standing up, holding up my coat. ‘Let me get you home.’

#henry cavill #henry cavill x ofc #henry cavill x oc #henry cavill fanfic #henry cavill fandom #henry cavill x asian ofc #henry cavill x amelia jung #amelia jung #asian ofc #coach!henry cavill #Coach Cavill

[wayward-mikaelson]

You Found Me

Word Count: 3678

About: POST ENDGAME. Bucky lost a friend. You lost a sister. You both are alone and learn to live somewhat co-dependent on each other. Then you guys go on your first mission after Thanos.

Characters: Reader, Bucky Barnes, Pepper Potts (Stark), Natasha Romanov (Mentioned), Clint Barton (Mentioned), Agent Maria Hill

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader 

Warnings/Trigger Warnings: Language, Grief, Loss, Mentions of Death, Angst, Fluff, Sexual Tension, Implied Sex, Blood, Fighting, Injuries

A/N: This is a bit long, so bare with me cause it’s very detailed since I wanted to portray/convey the Bucky that barley speaks and sees more with his eyes. He does speak when he needs to. I am also proud of this one too. I hope you all enjoy and I would love some feedback.

*This works contains content meant for the 18 and up crowd.

**Please DO NOT copy and paste my work anywhere WITHOUT my permission and WITHOUT giving me credit. I work really hard on all of my work.

***This work is also posted on Instagram (only an excerpt), WattPad, and Archive Of Our Own. Please go show some love over there too.

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*****Currently NOT taking any Requests.

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It had been four months since you lost your sister, Natasha, or as she was known to you, Natalia or Nat. The only person who kept you grounded and in check. You were still dealing with the emotions that came with it all, knowing full well she would probably kick your ass for wallowing in the grief. You knew why she did what she did. Fuck, you’d do the same exact thing to make sure Clint got home to his family. You couldn’t be pissed about it, but it didn’t hurt any less. You had a huge gaping hole in your chest and you weren’t sure how to fill it or if it would ever heal. That last part scared you the most. Would you feel this pain forever?

After the battle with Thanos and after Tony’s funeral, Pepper set the plan in motion to rebuild the compound. “It’s something Tony would have wanted,” she had told everyone. And everyone agreed. You included. That compound was your home and without it, you had no one and nowhere to go.

So you pulled together what money you had stashed away and went to the nearest motel. When  you arrived at the motel, you noticed a familiar face standing at the counter trying to convince the clerk to take his money for the week. But the problem is, he didn’t have enough money.

Taking a deep breath you pull the wad of cash out of your pocket and walk next to him and set it on the counter. “Two queens and make it a month.” The clerk goes to take both your guys cash but you stop them. “Uh-uh,” you pull Bucky’s cash back and slide it over to him. Without a word, he takes it back. The clerk takes your money and hands you both a key.

“You didn’t have to do that,” Bucky said when you guys got outside and began look for your room. “I could have figured something out.”

You stopped walking and turned to him. “No, but where else would you have gone? Like me, you don’t have anywhere else do go.” The two of stared at each other. Both your Y/E/C and his blue eyes seemed to have a battle of their own. But being a Romanov, you knew you would win that battle.

Bucky nodded, “Okay.”

And just like that, the two of you fell into a routine and an unexpected friendship. You were there when Bucky would wake up from an intense nightmare. Whether it was Hydra related or him waking up yelling out Steve Roger’s name. You would slip into the bed right next to him and hold him and help him through it. All the while, thinking about how his best friend in the entire world would just end up leaving him. Steve was your friend too, but his leaving didn’t affect you as much as it did Bucky. Night’s like that would make you shed a tear for him. You and Bucky were very similar. You both lost someone close to you. You both didn’t have anywhere else to go. You pretty much had no one but each other now.

Four months later, you guys were sharing a bed but weren’t intimate. You guys had gotten used to use sleeping next to each other that it was nearly impossible to fall asleep by yourselves. Bucky would run to the store and get food once a week, while you did both your guys laundry at the laundry mat around the corner.

The two of you knew each other’s flow of daily life. Bucky would go walking early in the morning and come back with a hot coffee for you. The first time he did that, he came back with the coffee, a handful of three different kinds of sugar packets, and two pockets full of the mini creamers.

“I didn’t know how you took your coffee,” He had said as you stared at the contents on the table.

Whenever you were out you always came back with food for the two of you. It could have been a pizza or Chinese take out. Either way, Bucky enjoyed it with you. If any of you had knots in either of your hair, one of you would help the other to get it out.

No matter what it was, you and Bucky were there for each other. And honestly, you were falling for the super soldier assassin who was too sweet on you. You were deathly scared to admit it out loud, but the thoughts just linger in the back of your mind.

Bucky waltzed into the motel room to see you lost in thought. He had your coffee in hand and set it slowly on the table. Bucky wondered what you were always thinking about when he saw you sitting on the bed with your knees drawn up to your chest. Your chin resting on your right knee. But he didn’t ask, he knew by the almost empty look in your eyes that you didn’t want to talk about.

These last four months has been the most stable for him. It was nice having someone there for him all the time. Not to mention someone who was willing to hold him through the nightmares of Hydra. He even was there when you would wake up crying for your lost sister. He wished he could take away that pain for you.

Bucky walked towards the bed you occupied and sat down next to you. He pulled you into his arms and leaned his back against the headboard. You turned in his grasp and placed an arm across his chest and the two of you just laid there. Listening to each others deep breaths and heartbeats. You guys could lay there for hours without a care in the world.

Then a knock on the door made you jump causing Bucky to tighten his arms around you. The knock came again.

“Agent Y/N? Sargent Barnes?” It’s Peppers voice. “I know you’re in there. I saw Barnes walk in there about twenty minutes ago. It’s not hard to miss a metal armed man.”

You pushed away from Bucky and walked towards the door and open it. There stood Pepper looking as gorgeous as ever. There were bags under her eyes so time hasn’t been good to her but she still wore that smile. The smile that hid the pain and sadness in her life.

“I have been looking everywhere for you two,” she said walking into the motel room. She looked around. “The two of you just disappeared before I could talk to you after Tony’s funeral,” Peppers voice almost broke saying the word funeral. “I was going to offer you two to stay with Morgan and me and other agents who didn’t have anywhere to go. But it looks like you guys held up well.”

You shifted on your feet and looked at Bucky who was now sitting at the foot of the bed. He was looking down at the floor with his hands folded together. “We didn’t know we. Sorry.” You said softly looking back at Pepper.

Pepper smiled and took your hand in hers. “Like I said, it looks like you two held up really well. I’m here to tell you, the living quarters of the compound are finished and you guys can move back in whenever you want to. I’ll actually be there later today.”

Pepper turned to leave but you held tighter to her hand. “Pepper? How are you doing?”

“I’m hanging in there, you know for Morgans sake,” Pepper answered as her smile cracked some. “Well, I should get going. I’ll see you both later?”

“Yes,” You said and watched Pepper walk out of the motel room. You felt so bad for Pepper. She lost her husband and the father of her child. That pain had to be bigger than loosing a sibling. You turned to see Bucky hand you your coffee. With a smile you took it out of his metal hand. The very hand that gave you some very impure thoughts. “Thank you,” you pressed the cup to your lips.

“I guess we should check out of this dump?” Bucky asked.

Within in the next hour, the two of you were turning the keys in and walking out of the motel for the last time. Bucky held the cab door open for you and making sure whatever belongings you guys owned were secured. Bucky could tell in your eyes you were excited. He’d only ever been in the compound when they captured him all those years ago, but he was willing to make it home.

When the two of you arrived at the compound you couldn’t hold the smile in. It was beautiful and it looked better than before. There was still work to be done on it, but what you were able to see made you want to cry. Bucky saw the overwhelming expression on your face and wrapped am arm around your shoulder.

“You going to be okay?” He asked softly and you nodded.

You guys found Pepper who showed you around. From the kitchen to the living room to the bedrooms. Pepper showed you your room and then Bucky’s room. His room sat across the hall from yours. As Bucky was looking at his room, Pepper pulled you to yours.

“I made sure you guys were close,” Pepper said moving a stray hair from your face. Probably out of habit and a motherly thing for her to do. “I could tell that you guys have taken care of each other and I’m sure that you guys had some sort of routine down. I wanted to make sure that you guys were still able to have some of that.”

You smiled and hugged Pepper tightly. “Thank you.”

And just like that, over the next month, you and Bucky fell into a new routine. You woke up when Bucky woke up and took morning walks with him. There was a coffee kart that sat on the corner of the street across from the compound. The coffee was so much better than the motel coffee you guys had been drinking.

Bucky late at night, after all the lights were turned out and other agents were in bed, he would sneak into your room. He knew you’d be awake but he was still quiet as he slipped into the warm bed next to you. Bucky would hear a soft sigh as you would turn in his arms and rest your head on his chest before falling into a deep sleep.

One day while you were tidying up the kitchen, Bucky came in from the gym. He would spend a couple hours a day in there to clear his mind. He sat down at the table as you placed a plate of food in front of him.

“Thanks, Doll,” He said taking his hand and rubbing your back.

Turning around with a small smile on your face, since you loved it when he called you doll, there stood both Agent Maria Hill and Bruce Banner. Bruce just stared at you, and the memory of you telling him years ago, that no one was good enough for you and who would want to spend their life with a trained assassin. Bruce who was the only other person on this person beside you and Clint to bring out Nat’s softer side. Agent Hill, also stared but has a small teasing smiling playing on the corner of her lips. You turned back around and slowly walked out of the kitchen letting Bucky know you’d be back.

You sat on your bed when you heard the knock on the door. You looked up and saw Bruce walk in.  “Don’t say anything,” You stood up and started to pull out a hoodie from your closet.

“I wasn’t going to say anything,” Bruce had a small smile on his face. “Except, since when do you own shirts that are too big for you?” He pointed to your bed. You turned to see Bucky’s shirt just laying there. You hadn’t realized that it was even there.

Over the last month Bucky sort of just moved into your room. His clothes had a drawer, he had a spot in your bathroom and two towels hung on your bathroom wall. Bucky even brought the pillows from his room to your bed.

“Okay,” You turn back to Bruce. “Bucky isn’t what it looks like. At least I don’t think so. It’s hard to tell. I like what he and I have. We just sort of found each other and have been there for each other when no one else was.”

Bruce’s face fell what looked like six stories. You could see the hurt. “Y/N/N,” He said softly. You forgot the sound of your nickname that Nat and Bruce use to call you. “I’m sorry I shut you out. I shouldn’t have.”

You shrugged on your hoodie, pushing down the memories of Nat. “Well, it happened. I don’t blame you. I would have done the same thing. I mean technically I did. It took four months for Pepper to find Bucky and me.”

Bruce nodded and scratched his head. “Well, you are pretty well versed in the art of falling off the radar.”

You cracked a smile. “Well, I didn’t intend to fall off the radar.”

“Like you didn’t intend to fall for Barnes?” Bruce must has seen the red creeping into your face. “I saw how you were smiling when he called doll. It’s the same face your sister had when she talked to me.”

You rolled your eyes and left the room.

Two week later, you and Bucky are crouched in a dark room. Guns pressed against your chests, being as quiet as you guys could be, as you guys waited for the all clear in the other room. This was your guys first mission since everything that happened almost six months ago.

Just a simple international rescue mission.

Or so you guys thought.

After the room had been quiet for ten minutes. Bucky cracked open the door and gave the thumb ups to you. The two of you creeped out of the room and started back towards where you started. You heard a sound to your right, and turned towards it.

“I’m going to check this out,” you tapped Bucky on the shoulder.

“What? No the fuck you’re not,” He said firmly.

“It’ll just be quick,” you called back to you as you walked down the darkened hallway.

“Be careful, Agent Romanov,” Agent Hill’s voice sounded in your ear piece. “Barnes, stay put unless you’re needed.”

You walked the darkened hallway and heard the sound again. It was louder. It was closer. Your heartbeat quickened as you walked further into the dark. You obviously had your light on your gun but it wasn’t bright enough. Something scarred passed your foot making your gasp out loud.

“You okay down there?” Bucky’s worried voice asked. You made the bad choice to ignore that question.  “Y/N?! Don’t make me come down there.”

“Stay put, Sargent Barnes,” Hills voice is firm in your ear that you took the ear piece off. Another bad move.

You walked ten more steps before being thrown into a wall. The back of your head smacked the concrete hard. You fell on your back and groaned. You got back to your feet and drew your knife. With what light you got from your fallen gun you charged the figure that attacked. You shoved him into the wall and drove your blade into his shoulder. In return, he head butted you and shoved you down on the ground. You watched in the faint light he pulled the blade out of his shoulder and knelt down. He straddled your waist and pinned your arms to your side with his knees.

With sick pleasure very visible in his eyes, he drove the blade into your forearm. You cried out as the sharp pain shot through you. When he pulled the blade out, you felt the warm rush of blood seep through your tactical suit and onto the cool floor. You watched as he rose the blade up with two hands right above your chest. You had two thoughts in the matter of three seconds.

Second one, you should have answered Bucky when he asked if you were okay.

Second two, you knew you should have told Bucky your true feelings and now it was pretty much too late.

Second three, your arms were suddenly free.

You scrambled to your feet and held tightly to your wounded arm. You watched as Bucky threw your assailant at the wall and stalked towards him slowly. The man tried to stab at Bucky, but Bucky grabbed his hand with his flesh hand and twisted it to the point you heard the crunching of his bones. With his metal hand, he held the neck of the man until you could hear the faint crack of the neck.

Bucky dropped the dead man on the ground and turned to you. You stood there, not a hint of fear in your eyes. He noticed the blood trickling through your fingers and walked to you as he ripped a piece of cloth from somewhere unknown. He gently moved your hand away from your arm and tightly tied the cloth around your arm.

Without breaking eye contact, he used his flesh hand to brush loose strands of hair out of your face and behind your ear. He let his hand slowly brush down to the base of your neck, where it lingered for a minute before he took the dangling ear piece and gently put it back in your ear.

“Barnes! Status update. Now.” Hills voice was firm.

“Situation is taken care of. Y/N will need medical attention though.” Bucky’s voice was hallow. You couldn’t tell what was going through his brain. Even his eyes were almost impossible to read. “We’re headed back your way.” Bucky took your uninjured arm and pulled you the rest of the way back to the chopper.

After you had been through medical and treated you headed back to your room. Bucky was sitting your room waiting for you. He was sitting on the edge of the bed with his hand folded. When he looked up, you can could see the anger and concern in his eyes.

“Okay,” you closed the door and crossed your arms as you turned back to him. “Say it. Get it over with.”

After minutes of silence and staring each other down. Bucky finally spoke. “What you did was completely fucking stupid, you know that?” Bucky’s tone was firm. “You could have died.”

“What did I do that was so fucking stupid?” you dropped your arms, crossed the room and stood three feet from him. The tone in your voice matched the firmness in Bucky’s. “Was it me ignoring you? How about ripping my ear piece out? Or maybe, almost getting stabbed in the heart?”

Bucky stood up. “All of it Y/N,” His voice rose and it continued to rise. “Do you have any idea how scared I was when you didn’t answer back? Do you know that my heart just about stopped when I heard you cry out and saw that dick over you with a blade about ready to plunge it into your chest?”

“It’s not your job to worry about me Bucky,” Your voice rose too. “My decisions on missions are mine and mine alone. So what if I died? It wouldn’t have mattered.”

Before you knew it, Bucky’s hands were pinning your arms to your side. “It would have mattered to me, Y/N. You’re so fucking smart, Doll, but god you are so blind to whats right in front of you.”

“Bucky,” you whispered.

Bucky dropped his hand and turned back to the bed and sat down. When he looked back up at you, he had just about every emotion glassed over his blue eyes. “I could have lost you, too. Does that mean anything to you?”

You didn’t know what to say to him, you read in between the lines. You know what he was saying. You took a deep breath and walked towards him. You placed a hand on the side of Bucky’s face. He closed his eyes and leaned into your hand. You dropped your hand to the collar of his shirt and decide to straddle his lap, resting both legs on either side of him on the bed.

Bucky’s eyes opened and he looked into yours, as he did, his hands instinctively moved to your hips and held you firmly in place. “Y/N?” Bucky’s voice caught in his throat.

You shushed him softly, and met his eyes. You took both of your hands and held his face. “You mean the world to me, James Barnes.” You said softly using his first name. Then you leaned in and pressed your lips to his.

Your guys lips moved together perfectly. You felt his tongue on your lips and your let him in. He explored every part of your mouth as he wrapped his arms tightly around you. You pulled back for some air and smiled at Bucky who was already smiling at you.

This was perfect, you thought. This was everything you actually had hoped it to be. In the next second, you found yourself on your back. Bucky hovered above you. He had your arm pinned above your head with his metal hand, you ignored the small ache in your bandaged arm. With his free hand, and without taking his eyes off yours, Bucky slowly trailed it from your face to your hips. leaving goosebumps on your both bare and clothed skin.

“You’re my world, Doll,” Bucky said leaning closer to you face. “You found me at my lowest. I wouldn’t know how to live if you died.”

Then he pressed his lips harder and rougher to yours.

#wayward mikaelson #Shy's Masterlist #Shy's Marvel Masterlist #Marvel #MCU #Marvel Family #MCU Family #Marvel Fandom #MCU Fandom #Marvel Fanfic #marvel fanfiction #Marvel short #Marvel imagine #Marvel daily #mcu fanfic #mcu fanfiction #mcu imagine #mcu daily #marvel cinematic universe #Sebastian Stan #Sebastian stan one shot #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes one shot #bucky barnes imagaine #marvel one shot #sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan imagine #bucky barnes daily #sebastian stan daily

[unsaidmar]

WC: 2.5k (long winded girl, I know)

Plot: They share stuff and it changes how they see things. Connection ensues. 

CW: Mentions of death, illness, hospitals I guess, violence.

a/n: Hello y’all. This is part two of whatever the fuck is going on inside my pea brain. Hope you enjoy.

Part one, the meeting. 

Two; It’s better to have loved and lost, than never to have loved at all.

She laughed at the awkwardness of the text and the perfect grammar Dr. Spencer Reid maintained while texting. Ollie made a mental note to care a little more about the phrasing of her own texts, especially considering the circumstances. To say she wanted to impress him was an understatement.

“Good, germs are yucky.” Sent at 7:45 am.

“Also, hi. Good morning” Sent at 7:45 am.

Good morning? Too much too soon? She fell victim to her overthinking for at least twenty minutes after sending her last text, realizing she had to slowly build up the courage to ask about the next time they would be seeing each other, which apparently would have to wait, since Spencer had an inconvenient schedule and could be out of the state in a matter of 20 minutes.  Ollie exhaled and stood up from her awful office chair to go and make herself some coffee, hoping to stop her mind from reeling and sending her into her usual never-ending pit of despair and anxiety that came with stepping out of her comfort zone.

A ping echoed in the room and her screen lit up, displaying a text from the one person she had been thinking about. Ollies mother would be crying laughing if she saw the state she was in, positively losing hair over the fact that a cute, smart, witty man was texting her back. A man she had spoken to for the first time not even 24 hours prior.

“I’m a nice person, I’m funny sometimes, I offered him coffee.” She whispered to herself, rationalizing every aspect of their interaction. “That’s how friendships start” She laughed bitterly. “I’m here… freaking… wishful thinking, and maybe he has a significant other… maybe he doesn’t even like women… maybe he just thought I was nice and he thought ‘yay, a new friend’… fuck” she plopped herself back on the chair and threw her head back.

Lia would have known what the right thing to do is, she would come up with a cool thing to text back on the spot, and she resented her absence like she had a million times before. Ollie had gotten used to writing her letters like her best friend was living somewhere else in the world and she would eventually read her friend’s attempt at keeping her updated, which she knew was not healthy and definitely not helping her move on.

The thing is, Lia’s death was not a surprise at all. It was a possibility to the point of actually being expected. She had been diagnosed as a terminal patient for a little over a year before she passed and almost everyone around her had made peace with the fact that she could go any day and that life would have to go on without her, but no amount of grief counseling and encouraging talks with Lia’s family could have prepared her for the unimaginable pain Ollie felt when it happened. She had heard about experiences that made the world turn upside down and how some life events made you go numb and make your legs give weight, but had never come face to face with a happenstance that painful.

She figured she was going to have to carry the burden of her loss till the day she died, and even then, the words “I missed you, till the very end.” would be carved in her grave.

Coming back from her spiral, she remembered how she fell down the rabbit hole in the first place. She took her phone with the intention of texting Spencer back and smiled at how stupid she had been to worry about seeing him again.

“Hey, arrest made successfully. Are you busy right now?” Sent at 7:57 am.

Sighing with relief, Ollie smiled and tried to sound casual with her reply as to not sound like seeing him again was the only thing she had been thinking about.

“I’m the boss, I can un-busy myself. Why? Were you charmed by my Keurig?” Sent at 8:00 am.

Spencer was not the kind to send sassy texts, or any text for that matter. This was completely new to him and he was determined to get it right, so he channeled the Derek Morgan that lived within him and prayed to whatever deity was looking out for him to make him sound cooler than he was feeling.

“I’m a sucker for coffee so, yes.” Sent at 8:05

 “I’m a sucker for you, apparently” Ollie nearly screamed at how quickly that came out of her mouth. “Fucking loser, dear God” She shook her head, scolding herself and whatever hamster was in charge of her brain and thought process.

“Mi oficina es tu oficina, then. I’ll be waiting.” Sent at 8:07

Twenty minutes later, he was there, coffee cup in his hands. After what felt like no time at all, they were four coffee cups deep into their conversation and had learned a lot more about each other. Turns out Spencer had a day off after they landed from an away case, he had a thing with germs, his favorite color was purple and his co-workers were more his family than just the people he happened to work with. He liked a bunch of sugar with his coffee and had an eidetic memory that was as much of a blessing as it was a curse.

He was impressed at how this girl was not what you would expect her to be, every aspect of her seemed to make no sense and at the same time, it made perfect sense. This purple haired girl had ADHD and a PhD in history, she was the oldest daughter of two of the most stubborn Mexican immigrants and had a sister that made even the most patient of humans go mad. She loved music, and was not ashamed to admit that her taste in music was far from sophisticated. “I am Taylor Swift’s bitch; I know the words to every single one of her songs! Same goes for One Direction too” She argued when Spencer said that it couldn’t be that bad.

A blaring ring halted their conversation to an unexpected stop. Ollie picked up the office phone with an annoyed grimace and exchanged a few words with whoever was calling.

“Hold that thought, I have to go sign a thingy at the front desk” She dashed out of her office and left Spencer there.

For the first time, he felt compelled to look around and fixate on the details. There were a few old looking pictures and some newer ones with people who looked a lot like her. There was one picture that caught his attention, isolated from the rest like it deserved a spot of its own. In it, there was a red-haired girl that looked around Ollie’s age, one of her arms around her waist and the other one cradling her head that was laying on her shoulder. Ollie’s eyes were closed and the red head looked like she was caught mid-sentence. Stuck to the frame was a little post it note that read “I love you, head ass. -Lia” It looked intimate, they were clearly comfortable with that kind of physical affection, and if Lia hadn’t called Ollie a head ass in the post it, he would have assumed they were together romantically.

Ollie came back in a hurry, apologizing for having to run out like that and sitting back down to resume their conversation.

“It’s okay, don’t worry” Spencer assured her. “I was looking at your pictures, I hope you don’t mind” He said, suddenly very aware of how invasive that could be.

“Not at all, those are there to be looked at” She shrugged, bracing herself for the question she knew was coming. Somehow, talking about Lia with him did not feel as dreadful as it had all those times she was asked about it before, perhaps it’s just him and his calming presence.

Sure enough, he pointed at the picture Lia had framed for valentine’s day and asked, “Who’s that?”.

“That’s Lia, she was my best friend. She is my best friend.” She smiled fondly, something that had never happened before when talking about this specific topic. Maybe sharing Lia’s memory with someone who didn’t know her was different. “She passed away almost a year and a half ago. 468 days ago, to be exact. She was really sick, it was inevitable” Ollie let out a breath she didn’t realize she was holding, reaching for the post it and tracing the words over with her finger.

“I’m so sorry, I can’t imagine how hard that must have been”

“It was… heartbreaking. Even with all that time we had to process the news, it still took me off guard.” She shook her head trying to ground herself. “Anyways, that’s a sad topic. I don’t want to bum you out with it.”

He knew the feeling all too well, he had apologized to several people when he rambled about Maeve, feeling like he had said too much and gotten too personal. He was not about to let this beautiful, vibrant soul feel the way he had for so long. Like he still did, truly.

“Don’t apologize, I get it. You’re not making me sad” He felt like he needed to elaborate to actually convey the message. “I went through the same thing with someone I loved too” he said, looking down at his hands, the very familiar feeling of oversharing creeping in. As he looked up, he noticed the sad look Ollie was giving him, but if the profiler in him was right, she was inviting him to share, not to stop.

“Her name was Maeve. She… she was a geneticist. She helped me through a rough time and she became my friend. It’s a long story…” he looked away.

“I want to hear it, long or not. But only if you want me to.” She gave him the warmest smile she could muster, which convinced him to keep going.

“Um, I started getting some headaches a while ago. I went to a few doctors but none of them gave me an answer. I reached out to Maeve for help and… We bonded, I guess.” He took a shaky breath.

“You don’t have to continue if you feel uncomfortable” she whispered in the most delicate tone.

“No, it’s not that. It’s just… I’ve never told this story before. Everyone in my life that I care about was there to see it.” He said, meeting her eyes so she could see how honest he was being. The man got a hold of himself for a minute, and continued.

“Maeve had to go into hiding. She was being stalked by some woman she met at work. Beyond talking on the phone, we hadn’t even met. I had no idea what she looked like and vice versa. This girl, the stalker… She wrote a paper, and Maeve dismissed it because it didn’t have a good enough foundation. When she started stalking her, she scared her into hiding and eventually started dating her ex-fiancé to try and get closer to Maeve, assuming he knew where she was. They ended up finding her and confronting her. She shot herself and the first person I ever loved. Right in front of me and my friends. The first five minutes I got with Maeve face to face, were the last.”

Baring his soul to a person he had known for a whooping 18 hours was the weirdest thing Spencer had ever done, so unlike himself it was almost funny. But at the same time, he felt like it had to happen. By no means did he believe in fate or destiny, but this one moment made him feel like maybe whoever does believe in that stuff, is not completely wrong.

She was not a therapist. She listened because she was going through a similar thing herself and her interest in Spencer’s loss was not rooted in psychoanalyzing him and helping him cope. She was just a mundane human that did not look at him with condescension and pity, she looked at him like she, too, had found a person who wouldn’t ask her “And, how does that make you feel?” in a monotonous voice. They both knew better than to assume they had all the answers.

“Spencer, that’s horrible. I am so sorry you had to see that. Jesus, fuck. I- “She thought about her next words very carefully. “That’s enough to crush anyone’s spirit” She looked at him like he was turning green. The reason being, he did not look like he was crushed. He had a beautiful smile that shook Ollie to her core, he was easygoing and conversation with him was carefree and it flowed easily. If he had not told her about Maeve, she would not have guessed the man sitting right in front of her was as affected as her.

“How did you manage to get through that?” Ollie questioned, fully intending to take notes.

“I don’t really think I have yet…” Well, time to come clean. Spencer thought. “The whole reason I was here yesterday, and a lot more times before that one, is because she and I talked about this museum. She told me about some conferences she had attended here and we made plans to visit together. Doesn’t quite sound like someone who’s over the whole thing.” He fiddled with his fingers, suddenly too aware of how cold it was. “How did you get through Lia’s death?”

“Yeah, well. I don’t really think I’m quite there either. Not like I’m trying, anyways. I can’t seem to get away from the Grey Roots either” Mental images of two little kids running around with dusty books in their hands came to her and she couldn’t help the small smile she broke into.

“I’m a hopeless romantic at heart, I have always thought that the way Lia and I found each other was pure magic. We met when we were in the second grade, right in this museum, we were on a field trip and we clicked. It was crazy to me that I actually met my best friend at such a young age, and the kind that lasts forever too. It sounds like when people meet the love of their lives on their first try. It sounds dorky, I know”

“It doesn’t. If anything, it sounds like you consider yourself lucky to have loved her like you did. We need more people like that, people that believe in magic.” Spencer reassured her with a shrug. He wished he could believe in cute stuff like that, but he was happy Ollie led a life that made her believe.

“Yeah, but us crazy people, we get our hopes up too easily. Sometimes it hurts.”

“Tell me about it.”

And just like that, in the not so well-lit office of the head Conservator of the Grey Roots Museum and Archive, something in the world had shifted.

#spencer reid x original female character #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x latina reader #criminal minds headcanons #criminal minds #bau #fluff #spencer reid headcanon

[captainillogical]

Home Ch.4

The domesticity of living with an alien who hasn’t quite had the chance at a normal life.

Distant Lands sequel.

Spinel/Reader

collab with my lovely wife @firstofficertightpants​

Today is another hot, bright day outside, and you have not had enough coffee to deal with it. Or any at all, actually.

Currently it's about an hour before your first lesson, and you're at Kiki's place - sitting on the toilet inside her bathroom in particular - trying to not panic.

"-and then! I told her if she wants to keep borrowing my jacket, the least she can do is NOT get mustard all over it! Can you believe her?!" Kiki huffs out next to your ear, dabbing more pigmented cover-up against your collarbone.

"Why the hell do you buy clothes that you know she'll keep stealing? You know she's not going to stop since you basically wear the same size." You reply, leaning into her brush. It tickles your skin, and you feel yourself almost sneezing.

"Because they're cuuuuuute, okay?" She whines, twisting her face in concentration as she smears makeup on a particular spot on your neck. "Wow she really did a number on you here.. are these teeth marks?"

"Pretend you didn't see them, just cover them up as best as you can," You plead, giving her The Face you know she can't resist. She rolls her eyes. "I just wanna look professional, you know?"

"They're gems, Y/N." She makes a point to jab you particularly hard on the side of your neck with her brush. "You seriously think they're going to care? Or notice?"

"Well, apparently a few humans signed up too, and I really would prefer to not get any more looks, er - more than the usual, anyway." You feel your phone vibrate in hand, and look down to see Steven giving you several thumbs up to your earlier text. 

"Why are humans signing up?" She asks, pausing momentarily.

"Not sure? But I'm blaming Steven on that." You reply, remembering to shoot Garnet a message as well about having her attend just in case you make a fool out of yourself in front of a crowd.

"Maybe they saw you with Spinel, and thought, hey, maybe the rest of us could-" 

A door slams against a wall, and you hear a resounding 'HEYYYYYYYY' from the hallway in a very familiar voice. Several pairs of footsteps are walking towards the bathroom the two of you are in.

Oh god, you need to go. You attempt to stand up from sitting on the toilet, and Kiki forces a hand on your shoulder with an "I'm not done!"

"Kiki!" Jenny pops her face into the bathroom doorway with an infectious smile. "What are you dooooooooo- whoa, Y/N?!" 

If you could clap your hands and disappear, you would.

"Heyyyyy Jenny," You greet her as flatly as you can, and then Lars also pops his head into the doorway. Oh. Great. "Lars. What are you guys doing here?"

Lars gasps dramatically, pointing to your neck. "YOOOOOOOUUUUUU-"

Kiki silences him with her palm over his mouth. "Dude I already told you, why are you being so dramatic right now,"

"You TOLD him?!" You screech, feeling completely betrayed.

"Well, YEAH, clearly you were going to just internalize it and dance around the subject!" She places her hands on her hips, makeup brush still in her fist. "I'm just expediting the process!"

"Tell him what!?" Jenny pipes in, completely engrossed.

"That Y/N's dating Spinel!" Kiki huffs out, like this is obvious information, and Jenny gasps.

“I wasn’t going to dance around the subject!! I just haven’t had the chance to shoot him a text yet..” You mumble, trailing off sheepishly. Okay, so, you know you should’ve told Lars already! It’s just.. Ugh. Talking about your feelings is hard. The face Jenny’s making is making you wish you could flush yourself down the toilet.

“You dumbass, were you seeing how long you could hide this from me?! After all I did for you.” Lars crosses his arms over his chest, miffed. “It’s whatever, I knew that was going to happen sooner rather than later, anyway. I was expecting like, two days, tops - with how you had talked about her.”

“Am I that obvious?” You ask flatly.

“Uh, yeah.” Jenny gives you a look. “Girl, you avoided me for an entire year after I asked you out, and then acted like nothing ever happened. I probably would have recovered my ego a lot faster if I knew your type was Gems.”

“My type isn’t GEMS,” You sputter, utterly amazed at the audacity of the three of them.

“Yeah but your neck says otherwise,” Lars teases, and you groan, covering your face as the other two howl in laughter.

“Remind me why I’m friends with any of you?” You say, muffled behind your hands.

“Um, because you have no other options?” Kiki grins, and you put your hands down just to lightly kick her on the shins, and she chokes out a snort.

“So, what’s the occasion? Why are you dolling up Y/N?” Jenny peers over at you, taking in the new.. upgrades to your appearance.

“She’s got some lessons today, and wanted to look more professional,” Kiki rolls her eyes, like somehow you wanting to not talk to a class looking like you got half-mauled by a sea lion is ridiculous. “Speaking of, did you want me to cover the scar on your face?”

“Ehhh, leave it. I don’t really care about that.” You look at the time on your phone, knowing you need to leave soon. Spinel has texted you a few words of encouragement coupled with quite a pile of heart emojis, and you have to school your face into not smiling at it like some sort of cheese ball.

"I think you look cooler with it anyway," Jenny tucks a piece of hair behind her ear, her gold earrings shining in the light of the bathroom. "Makes you look like you won't take shit from anyone."

"What about my scar?" Lars asks. "Is my face scar not cool??"

"Yours looks more like you fought a raccoon in a dumpster." Jenny grins, and you can't help the laugh that comes out of your mouth as Lars sputters at her response.

The four of you chat for a little while longer while you finish up with Kiki, Jenny asking way too many questions about your personal life - but this time, you don't feel uneasy at all about sharing some of the details with her. 

-

You're standing in the middle of Little Homeworld near the town center, coffee in hand - surveying the area as people and gems hustle around you. You probably should've also grabbed something to eat, but it's kind of too late now. Steven's bringing you lunch after this anyway.

It's twenty minutes until your first lesson, and you're starting to see a few gems show up early. They had to relocate where you'd be having the class - originally they had given you a decent spot under some coverage, but because the attendance got so high they moved you to the literal town center for the space. There's a lot of gems (and some humans) around, and most of them are either working on small construction or going about doing their other jobs. You watch three Amethysts a few yards away struggle to lift a large sheet of glass for what looks like a new cafe. Huh. The gems are really trying for inclusivity here. 

You turn around to look at your chalkboard that Garnet placed here for you, and write out a giant welcome sign on it, along with the class title and your name. You could've probably written it a little more eloquently.. eh. The gems aren't going to care. There's some sudden yelling coming from around you, so you turn to look - one of the Amethysts nearly dropped her side of the glass because someone bumped her — aaaand it's Spinel, with Bismuth next to her, who are reading over some blueprints.

You stand there, hoping Spinel hasn't seen you. She doesn't know your class got moved, but you're positive she was supposed to be working with not Bismuth today. Great. You don't need a reason to be any more anxious about this than you are, even if seeing her pink hair kind of sets you also at ease. 

More people and gems walk by loudly, and you start to wonder if you're going to need a megaphone. You grab your stack of papers, and go over your notes on your bench while you bide your time until it's noon.

About five minutes pass, and someone sits next to you on your bench. 

"Heyyyy." A familiar voice speaks, and you look up - you're greeted with the smiling face of that rose quartz you've bumped into twice. "Fancy meeting you here."

"Oh, it's you," You reply, a bit off-guard. You weren't expecting anyone to sit and chat with you, nonetheless the very specific gem you keep randomly meeting. 

"Saw you sitting here, and wanted to say hello before I went to this class I signed up for," She holds out her hand, her bright smile not making you feel as uneasy as it did the previous day. "I realized I never introduced myself. You can call me Rosie, if you want. The other quartzes have taken a liking to it."

"Rosie, huh.. that's actually a nice name. Mine's Y/N." You return her smile, and shake her hand.. which is strangely soft.

"Are you here for the lesson too? I'm pretty excited about this one, this has to be the most interesting class they've got on the current schedule right now." She leans in, putting an arm up on the bench back for support. More gems have started to gather in the centre now. 

"I am, but I'm actually the one teaching it.." You reply almost sheepishly, and her eyes widen in response.

"You're teaching it?!" She lights up immediately. "I thought it was just gonna be one of the other gems! No wonder so many came here from Homeworld for this!"

"... you're pulling my leg, right? How would any of them have heard of this? We only posted this class within the last week, and just on the singular board." You feel the bubbles of dread in your stomach. Or maybe that's just the excessive caffeine.

"I heard a couple talking about fliers over there, I'm not sure, but they were so excited." She takes a second to look around, and lowers her voice briefly. "I heard that one of the Diamonds wanted to attend, even."

WHAT. Your brain cannot deal with this information.

"B-but they're not, right?" You hear your voice waver, and you push your creeping anxiety down. "I don't think I can deal with a Diamond here, today."

She laughs, and it's not mockingly. It's almost sweet, actually.

"That would be something, wouldn't it?" She winks at you, a light smile on her face. "But no. I don't see their gaudy ships, so I think you can rest easy."

“Phewwwww,” You dramatically wipe your hands down your face, and let out a groan. “I was so worried there for a sec. What would the Diamonds care about interacting with humans, anyway? So absurd.”

“I have no idea,” She giggles at your antics. “Your guess would be about as good as mine.”

You see Spinel staring in your general direction, and your heart rate speeds up when you see her eyes connect with yours. Her face lights up like you’re the best thing she’s ever seen in her life, and you can’t stop the goofy smile that breaks out on your face. You wave at her, and she nearly drops the box she’s holding to enthusiastically wave back.

“Who’s that?” Rosie asks, face turned to peer at Spinel way over there.

“My girlfriend.” Is what comes out of your mouth automatically, and she whips her head back to stare at you with a strange face.

“You’re dating a gem?!” She hisses out, clearly shocked as her eyebrows shoot up into her hairline.

“Yes - jeez, why does everyone always react this way - and it’s not THAT weird, before you ask,” You say, feeling your face heat up in embarrassment.

“And a Spinel, of all gems? No offense.” She looks back over to stare at said pink-haired gem, before turning back to you. 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” You give her a look, taking immediate offense to her statement. She brings her hands up in defense.

“I didn’t mean it like - It’s just, Spinels seemed to always be designed for friendship; not romance. I’ve physically witnessed three dating catastrophes between them and other gems, in my time.”

“Well, my Spinel is perfectly fine.” You say, and it comes out a little more aggressively than you had wanted, and she recoils a bit. “But thanks for your concern.”

“I'm sorry, it wasn’t my intention to offend you.” She at least has the decency to look apologetic. “How long have you two been dating?”

“We just started this week..” You answer.

“New relationship, huh.” She looks like she’s studying your face, and you’re not sure how you feel about it. “I do wish you two the best,”- There’s a sudden low murmur in the group of gems nearby you, and you look over to see what they’re mumbling about.

Fucking hell.

Jasper, yeah THAT Jasper, is standing over in the now pretty fucking large crowd of gems that’s gathered to attend your class, and you don’t know whether to laugh or scream. 

“Whoa, she’s huge.” Rosie does a double-take at said gem, eyes widening hilariously.

“Yeah, a huge bitch. Jasper fucking hates humans, why the hell is she even here?” You groan, hoping that maybe she’ll just sit quietly and not make any remarks or heckle the other students.

"You know her?" She asks, amused by your response.

"Unfortunately, thanks to Steven." 

"That kid is some kind of magnet for problems of all shapes and sizes." She laughs, shaking her head.

"You don't even know the half of it.." You give her a tired look, and she laughs even more. She asks you a few more questions about Steven and your life, and you answer them truthfully while attempting to distract your anxiety.

-

A hundred gems is your turnout. A bit over, actually, and a handful of humans too.

You maybe feel just a little in over your head with this, but, well.. it's too late now. You spot quite a few gems you've seen before in the crowd, as well as Onion of course, and your neighbor George. You even spot Buck sitting in the middle of a group of Lapis who look like they're discussing heavy gossip with him, and he's actually engaged. Interesting.

There are.. so many eyes peering at you. You've never talked to a crowd this big in your entire life, and public speaking has never been your strong suit. But these gems came here for a specific reason, and goddammit, the thought of Pearl or Sour Cream teaching this instead in your place just doesn't sit right with you at this point.

You greet the class once the volume dies down enough, and a wave of enthusiastic greetings come back at you. You see Garnet in the corner and she gives you a thumbs up, and honestly it makes you feel a lot better that she's here.

You start off with your orientation notes, and talk generally about the basics, mainly about the similarities between gems and humans as common ground. Literally only about three minutes into this class, and a quartz that is most likely from Homeworld raises her hand. You call on her.

"Is it true that humans eat their younglings?" She shouts out from the middle of the crowd, her vibrant purple hair half covering one of her eyes. 

"Er," You stumble on your words, a little perturbed that that's the first question you get. "No, humans don't eat their young at all, you're probably confusing us with some other species."

She nods, like that sounds like the right answer, and then about twenty more hands shoot up.

"Let's save the questions until I at least get through this pile of papers, guys," You insist, and a noise of disapproval comes from near the front left side of the group. You turn your head, and.. it's fucking Jasper. Does she know that you'd throw hands with her if it were not for the fact that you're trying to be professional? 

You completely ignore her, and continue on with what you were previously talking about.

A good 20-25 minutes pass, and you're now in a good place to stop so people can ask their questions. A few humans you don't recognize ask you about how you know so much, and you answer truthfully. You briefly talk about living with Steven and the Crystal Gems, and how easy it was to co-exist. 

A LOT more hands pop up after that. 

"This might sound strange, but how do you ask a human to be friends?" The Lapis you call on asks. 

"You can just ask. Humans do it too. Sometimes people prefer to form them naturally though, but if you guys are already talking then it's a good sign." 

"But what about if they scream at you?" Another gem blurts out, and you curb the bark of laughter that wants to escape from your mouth.

"Generally speaking, what do you do if a gem screams at you? Same principle. Guys, humans and gems are way more similar than you think, and communication is key in this." At least your voice is steady, and you don't really feel as anxious as you were before, since the class seems to actually be going smoother than you had thought.

The giant hand of the Morganite in the middle of the crowd waves frantically, and you call on her with amusement. It's kind of cute how excited and interested a lot of the gems are. "You seem to have a ton of gem friends, and I have no human friends! Could you be my first?" She yells at you.

"Oh, I don't see why not," You answer truthfully, feeling a bit sheepish and taken aback by her request. Once those words leave your lips though, half the crowd starts shouting - ME! ME TOO! COULD YOU BE MY FRIEND?? - and you can't help feeling a little flustered as you try to calm the class down, taking a few more regular questions to keep it going.

You don't even realize through the noise of the center of little Homeworld when you spot a camera crew at the edge of your crowd, setting something up. It's the fucking local news station, what the FUUUUUUUUCK. You try not to outwardly display your internal panic and it's proving to be one of the hardest things you've ever done.

"When did you get that scar?" Jasper stares at you from her seat, pointing to your face.

You freeze momentarily at the lack of tact in that question, and that's when you spot Spinel off to the side of the class, at the edge of the crowd of students. Your brain stutters.

"U-um. It was during an accident with my girlfriend." You blurt out quickly, and instantly regret those words. You should've fucking lied or something because you can see Rosie narrowing her eyes at you in the front.

"Is that why you look like that now?" Jasper grunts out, crossing her arms. If you could throttle her you would in a heartbeat.

"Yes." You state firmly, meeting her gaze. She looks a little surprised at your answers. "Anyway, moving on." You hear a few murmurs in the crowd after that, opting to ignore how anxious it makes you.

You answer a few more questions, and try to not look at Spinel who keeps raising her hand with the rest of the gems. Shouldn't she be working?! Oh god, of course the camera crew is actually filming something - you can barely offhandedly hear the reporter spouting off something about little Homeworld into the camera as it pans around him. 

Your heartbeats are hammering in your chest, but you move onto more questions and try to keep your cool. Eventually you can't ignore how obnoxiously your girlfriend is raising and waving her hand trying to get your attention - several gems around her keep pointing at her so you'll give her a chance.

Oh, little do they know.

You sigh, resigning to letting her ask a question.

"Spinel." You call on her with a pointer finger as neutrally as possible, which is way harder than you had thought.

"Finally!" She cries with a fist pump, and a few people around her chuckle. "I just wanted ‘ta ask, is it possible for a gem and a human to fuse?”

You feel yourself freeze on the spot, taken completely by surprise. There’s a couple murmurs among the crowd.

Why the fuck is she asking that.

“U-um, no, unfortunately there’s no way to do that because of the differences in our biological make-up,” You say, feeling your face heat up in embarrassment - there are so many eyes staring at you.

“Well that sucks!” A random gem in the crowd shouts, and quite a few gems erupt in laughter. 

You try your best to wind them down and finish with their many, many questions.

It isn’t long until the class is over - you had only taken up hour sessions, and you’re so thankful for it. The class went over well, and many gems walk up to you to chat and shake your hand, and the local news station seems to be interviewing a couple gems on what went on - you guess there’s some sort or segment they’re doing on Little Homeworld, and today just happens to be the day they chose to do that.

You avoid the camera crew as much as possible as you tidy up your belongings, and Spinel walks up to you as you gather your papers in your arms.

“That went pretty good!” She beams at you, looking proud. You squash your feelings of affection that overwhelm you - you wish you could kiss her if you were not in public.

“Yeah, and if you ever ask me a question like that in my classes again, I’m actually going to ban you. I’ll even put up a photo of your face so the other’s know to barr you from the class.” You scoff at her, and she completely disregards it, getting a little closer to you to give you a look that you recognise as her challenging you.

“That wouldn’t work on me anyway,” She grins, hand raising up to tuck the stray hair that just flew into your face - she looks to the side of you briefly as you hear footsteps and speaking - 

FUCKKK, THE REPORTER IS WALKING RIGHT OVER HERE.

Your eyes dart back to Spinel, body posed to leave. “U-Um, I gotta-”

“Ma’am! Maaaaa’am!” You hear the reporter shout at you. 

Cool cool, keep it cool. Just breathe. You want to vomit.

"You two look pretty close." He remarks as he jogs up to you, slightly out of breath. The cameraman follows him, and if you could run you would. But you'd rather not be turned into a local meme, so your feet are firmly planted in the spot. "I wanted to catch you before you left, Miss Teacher!" He smiles brightly at you - that you know is just for the camera. 

"I was just finishing up." You smile politely. 

"I wanted to ask you a few questions regarding the class you just held if that's alright with you?" He asks, adjusting the small mic on his collar. He also holds up the microphone that the logo of the local news station is emblazoned on.

"Sure." You feel your nerves go haywire. This is way, waaaay too much pressure for you, you feel like you're going to faint, the fucking cameraman just winked at you.

"What's your name, firstly." 

"Y/N." You answer him with just your first name, and he gives you a look. 

"Last name? You gotta have a last name." He insists. 

You tell him your last name, and his eyebrows furrow before they shoot up into his hairline.

"Last name, last name?" He implores, holding the microphone closer to your face.  "Like, -last name- the lawyer working on that Gem case in Empire city, -last name-!?"

Oh. You forgot about your father. 

"Y-yes," You stutter out in a panic, and instantly regret waking up this morning.

God fucking dammit.

#spinel #spinel x reader #spinel steven universe #steven universe #su #home #my fic