#*grabby hands* death note content

[shu-box-puns]

A grumpy man and his feral son

The grumpy old man being Tsu’tey.

And the feral son being Spider. 

Okay hear me out, Tsu’tey surviving the Battle for the Tree of Souls and somehow finds himself as the caretaker for Spider. It’s a very lengthy progress considering he hates Sky People and he’s injured etc. But he has a soft spot for kids, and clearly this one isn’t getting the care he deserves. 

One thing leads to another, and he’s looking after a baby Sky Person. 

It was probably toddler Spider taking one look at this scowling, blue giant, who had accompanied Jake on a visit to Hell's Gate, and immediately clocked him as a good choice in parental figure. Just toddler Spider rising shakily to his feet - the scientists were shook, he's never shown any interest in walking before - and he clumsily toddles over to Tsu’tey who is stood off to the side. The hunter watches the child with obvious suspicion, eyes narrowed. Undeterred Spider, raises his hands above his head and makes grabby hands. “UPPIES PLS.”

Tsu’tey stares him down for several heartbeats. Unmoving as Spider gets progressively more annoyed at not getting picked up. He's small and demanding and Tsu’tey is weak.

To everyone's shock he caves on the spot. And with a simple huff, he drops to his knees and dutifully scooping the toddler up. Spider giggles happily, grasping at his necklace and holding on tight as Tsu’tey supports his head.

Norm is frozen in place for several moments. Staring owlishly at this enormous being holding Spider with such care and ease. The kid is grinning brightly, content to play with the braids hanging by Tsu’tey's cheek, who doesn't seem to care. Besides a few irritated flicks of his ear when the braids knock into it, the hunter remains focused on the task at hand.

It quickly becomes a common sight around the compound.

Naturally, because Spider is too small for an exo pack, he has to remain within Hell's Gate. Whenever Jake goes to visit the scientists, they begin expecting Tsu’tey to follow suit. And whilst Jake will spend his time with Norm or Max, Spider will inevitably find Tsu’tey and wordlessly coax the hunter into playing with him or getting into mischief. Despite his cold exterior, Tsu’tey is like putty in that boy's fingers. The minute Spider giggled at him, all bright eyes and the cute scrunch of his odd nose, the hunter immediately fell in love. An instinct within was ignited and he found himself drawn to the child. 

Side note: Spider being a terror, even from such a small age. Constantly bored so he keeps getting into the machiney or trying to escape outside. At first, Tsu’tey is fooled by the cute smile and demands for cuddles and believes he is a easy to deal with as Neteyam. And then he catches Spider trying to crawl into an air vent. The toddler stares at him. Tsu'tey stares at the toddler.

"No." Tsu'tey says in his heavily accented English.

They continue to stare at one another for another heartbeat.

Then in an explosion of movement, Spider begins furiously stuffing himself into the vent, to which Tsu’tey launches himself across the hall to drag him out by his armpits.

If the space was big enough, like clockwork, Spider would attempt to crawl into it.

There was another time he walked past the glass door of the airlock and by chance glanced down. His eyes bugged at the sight of Spider straining to reach the handle for the external door. He wore no mask, and was blissfully unaware of the immediate danger that waited on the other side of that door.

Tsu’tey had never felt such fear before. Or at least, not since he fell from the sky.

Luckily, he ripped open the glass door before Spider could open the external door, which the air lock automatically locked, and was hauling Spider out. Unaware of his almost death, Spider was more than happy by this turn of events and happily clung to Tsu'tey's necklace as the hunter strode away from the airlock. He refused to let go of the child for the rest of his visit, needing to feel him to reassure himself that he was fine.

In short, Tsu’tey hadn't realised just how difficult of a toddler Spider was to keep track of. Luckily, the kid was so enamoured with Tsu’tey that the hunter didn't have that difficult of a time keeping track of him, since he always wanted to study Tsu’tey's hands or hold onto the end of his tail for balance.

Alternatively: Tsu’tey and Spider fucking around in Hell's Gate. When the little shit begins walking more confidently, he takes to making a runner, shrieking with laughter as Tsu'tey follows him. Of course, the hunter is too tall to catch him efficiently, so he has to duck around all the lights or crawl to keep up.

When Spider gets big enough to wear an exo pack, Tsu’tey definitely starts taking him out of the compound to explore. (He definitely gets his hands on an Omaticayan baby sling and wears Spider around the village so everyone gets accustomed to seeing the little toddler in the exo pack). The child is completely safe with Tsu’tey who is adament on protecting him as he explores the forest.

Tsu’tey teaches this kid everything he knows, everything Spider will ever need to survive Pandora. How to hunt. How to navigate. They figure out how Spider can ride pa’li without a kuru. 

He tries to be a good parental figure, dad; strict but fair. Which he admits, gets harder as Spider grows. The kid noticeably starts withdrawing from him. Where once he naturally gravitated towards Tsu’tey in a crowd, he now hung back or chose instead to spend time with the Sully kids. Tsu’tey dismissed it as Spider growing from a boy into a man. He no longer needed such close guidance, and Tsu’tey trusted him to come to him if he needed it.

Bonus angst potential: Spider feeling insecure of his Sky Person body and feeling unworthy of being called Tsu'tey's son. Allow it to fester and give him some drive towards his reckless behaviour.

As a single parent, Spider knows Tsu'tey can’t give him everything a traditional family, but the hunter tries his hardest. Spider sees all his effort. He even thinks of Tsu'tey as his dad although he would never dare voice it. And yet, he still feels disconnected from the rest of the clan. He’s a Sky Person, he can’t form Tsaheylu, naturally he’s gonna feel some distance despite Tsu’tey’s best efforts. 

Tsu’tey definitely bullied a throat comm out of Norm and the scientists after Jake explained how helpful the little devices were over long distances. He bestows the little necklace to Spider and wears the pair, instructing his charge to use it if he needs it.

When he was five, Spider used it constantly to narrate to Tsu’tey what he's doing with his day. Telling him all about the funny plants he's seen whilst exploring with the Sully kids, gossiping about a fight that he just witnessed amongst the young hunters. Snitching on Lo'ak who just fell out of a tree.

And Tsu’tey reveled in it. Allowing his boy's excited voice to narrate in the back of his mind as he carries out his daily chores.

As Spider grew older however, he stopped using the coms as much. And when the humans return, he strictly uses it for emergencies.

Therefore, Tsu’tey immediately knows something is up when Spider randomly starts talking over the comms, thanking him for everything. Apologising and telling him that he won't be able to make dinner.

Then Jake calls in and tells him about Quaritch.

Tsu’tey is on his ikran and speeding for the old compound faster than toruk could move at its top speed. He is livid.

Tries to keep the panic out of his voice as he steadily tells Spider that he's coming. Naturally, Quaritch is unsuccessful in obtaining any of the kids. And Tsu’tey wouldn’t let ANYTHING happen to his boy. 

Like Spider gets YEETED off of that branch by an explosion and Quaritch stumbles upon him wounded and barely conscious. The colonel neals down to scoop the kid up onto for Tsu’tey to appear through the bushes and brutally whack him upside the head with his bow; stunning him.

Being the petty man he is, Tsu’tey wouldn’t deliver one hit and flee. He’d swing again and again, snarling and spitting insults as the Colonel scrambles to find his bearings. The pissed off hunter deals as much damage as he can and quite literally herding the recom away from his son. Only Lyle opening fire on him gets him to back off, and with a hiss he scoops up Spider and disappears into the foliage.

Spider's pov with Quaritch looming over him and Tsu'tey's shiny forehead and scowling face peering through the bushes over the recoms shoulder:

Neytiri's pov from the tree branches above where she is trying to drag Kiri to safety:

Basically, I just want to see Tsu’tey panicking about the scrapes on Spider’s skin, the handcuffs, the very real reality that if he had been even a second later, then Quaritch would’ve hoisted the kid onto his shoulder and taken him. 

Man is bordering on a manic episode as he stops long enough to ensure all the Sullys made it out before he’s calling for his ikran and high tailing it back to High Camp where Mo’at can fix Spider up. 

Meanwhile, Spider is shook. He has never seen Tsu’tey so dishevelled. The hunter is always calm, always in control. But he's frantic. Tail thrashing to and fro like a whip as Mo'at fussed over Spider.

All the tension of the event boils down to some raised tempers and high emotions. Tsu'tey is a nervous mess, and Spider is so unnerved by the blatant show of terror in his father figures face that he can't help but feel guilty. Definitely tries to get Tsu’tey to leave so he'll stop hovering and looking at him like that.

Meanwhile:

Tsu’tey: trying to convey to his boy how much he means to him because he hates how Spider is always yeeting himself into danger for the sake of others, and his crusty old heart could not take the grief of losing him.

Spider: Just stop pretending! You’re not even my real, Dad!

Tsu’tey: floored! He buffers. He stops breathing. He just stares at Spider like he’s grown a second head as the words sink in. Then he visibly crumbles. Real, actual tears streaming down this man’s face. He feels like a failure. How did he overlook this? Why didn’t he notice? Did Spider just call him DAD??

Spider: *with an expression of genuine fear* You can CRY?? 

Once Tsu’tey starts, he can’t stop fucking crying and has to excuse himself whilst Spider is left feeling conflicted and guilty. He didn’t know Tsu’tey possessed tear ducts. Whenever he was upset, he was either disappointed and scowling, or pissed and committing attempted murder; there is no in between.

And as a result, Tsu'tey starts acting weirdly towards Spider. He sees how good Neytiri is with her children, how the other fathers easily get on with their sons, ensuring they’re seen, heard and kept safe. (He ignores whatever the hell Jake is doing because WTF). And he tries to parent differently.

And naturally because it’s incredibly out of character for him, Tsu’tey takes it way to far and becomes incredibly overbaring. 

Spider literally has to sit him down and go: I know you care, but STOP all of this. You’re scaring the shit out of me.

And then Tsu’tey is stuck. His tail thrashes in unease because he’s tried his way and miserably failed. And then he observed everyone else and he’s still fucking this up. 

And it becomes a learning curve for them where they actually communicate and establish boundaries and talk about feelings. It goes surprisingly well.

When Spider's insecurities finally surface after a failed raid, where he almost got Tsu'tey killed:

Tsu'tey trying to reassure his boy who is clearly distraught and hating on himself. ”I see yo-”

Spider immediately cutting him off because he doesn't deserve to hear that right now. ”But you DON’T see me. Hell you don’t even like me.” Spider yelled. He doesn't mean it. He's just spitting words. Scrambling for something to say that will hurt Tsu'tey enough to make him back off. ”You see a Sky Person and nothing else. You see the son of the man who destroyed Home Tree. You see a threat you can mould into an ally. You don’t fucking see me. You see an opportunity. Potential. You see what you want to see.”

Tsu'tey is not having it. He goes real quiet, and kneels down in front of Spider who is trying to hide in his hands. He takes Spider by the wrists and forces him to look him in the eye. His gaze is steady, voice firm and even as he reassures his boy.

<”I. See. You.”> Tsu’tey repeats. He squeezes Spider's hands, wordlessly begging him to understand. <”I see you, Spider. My son.”>

Spider:

WHY IS THERE A TEN PICTURE LIMIT! I HAVE MORE MEMES!!

#Dad Tsu'tey #Tsu'tey #spider #spider socorro #found family #adoption #THAT's MY SON #That's MY BOII #me looking at two characters who have never met in cannon and have no idea of the other's existence #It is giving found family #I am loving the father-son potential #The vibes are immaculate #Pissed off Tsu'tey and Spider who is hell bent on giving this man constant heart attacks #baby spider #bonding #an unlikely duo #Norm is concerned

[strangemagicc]

WADWSH | Chapter Two - The Date

masterlist | <prev | next>

pairings: 2000s!actor!Steve x fem!Reader, 2000s!bestfriend!Eddie x fem!Reader, love triangle, (based loosely on the movie Win a Date with Tad Hamilton)

summary: your date with Steve Harrington 🩵

author’s note: Are any of us surprised that Steve won the poll? No. Does that mean I will reveal who steals reader's heart? Still no, we're on this ride together 😉 but you might get one final chance to persuade me

w/c: 6.4k - this one got away from me lol

warnings: pining / angst, mentions of parental death, living in poverty, let me know if I missed anything!

The trailer was warm, fans blowing high in anticipation of the nearing heatwave. Sweat clung to your chest as you paced your small kitchen, the microwave hummed, kernels heating in small spurts. You waited for the popcorn to finish, head in the clouds as the seconds ticked down. It had been nearly a month since you entered the drawing to win a date with your favorite Hollywood hunk and still you heard nothing. It felt silly to think you had a chance among the thousands, millions, of fans who had probably entered more times than you could afford. You were slowly coming to terms that your dream date was a figment of your imagination. The microwave beeped loud and shrill, the tone dying at the end of its last alert. The clunker was on its final leg. You shook the bag of popcorn, hoping the butter would stick to each kernel instead of the paper bag, and plopped the contents into a communal bowl. You grabbed more snacks, cherry Twizzlers for Eddie and mini-butterfingers for Holly who were both over for movie night and griping about what exactly the three of you would watch.

“Eddie we are not watching Friday the 13th again and plus you chose last time,” Holly rolled her eyes and made grabby hands for the remote that Eddie was holding just out of her reach.

“Excuse me for not wanting to spend ninety minutes watching Steve Harrington struggle through his lines,” he mocked, remote still lifted away from the blonde’s reach. You swooped in from the kitchen with the bowl of popcorn in one hand and grabbed the remote from his outstretched grasp with the other.

“Hey,” Eddie whined, head thrown back onto the couch.

“Sorry Ed, majority rules,” you stuck your tongue out as you climbed over his outstretched legs and settled into the cushion beside him on the couch, coils squeaking as you did. Eddie grabbed a handful of kernels and chucked them at you as he spread his legs wider, thigh brushing yours as he got comfortable. You returned the favor and watched the popcorn stick to his curls, tangling in his hair. He huffed a small chuckle, untangling them and plopping them into his mouth with an exaggerated crunch, eyes trained on you as he chewed obnoxiously.

“Ugh,” you rolled your eyes and focused on the opening credits. Mood shifting as you anticipated the moment Steve’s face appeared on the screen. The movie was a period piece set during World War Two. Lovers torn apart by war and time, never destined to be. You held in your sobs as Steve’s character confessed his love before he boarded a train. A passionate kiss and a final goodbye. His character dead before the end of the war. Eddie watched you from the corner of his eye as you shed silent tears, wiping at them to no avail as they left splotches on your shirt.

“Oh brother,” he griped around a mouthful of licorice, watching you and Holly sob as the credits rolled.

“Wasn’t that so good?” The blonde asked, eyes jumping between you and the grump at the other end of the couch.

“The last twenty minutes were my favorite,” he nodded, a knowing grin situated on his face as he looked at the two of you. The last twenty minutes Steve was noticeably absent.

“You just don’t appreciate true talent,” you wiped the remainder of your tears as Eddie laughed at you.

“Babe, I have more talent in this little pinky than Harrington has in his whole body,” he argued, grin a little smug as he stared you down, pinky wagging for emphasis.

“Oh really, I don’t recall seeing your name in lights or in any magazines,” Holly chimed in.

“That’s because I won’t sell my soul to the Hollywood machine, baby girl,” and she scoffed at the nickname.

“Sounds a lot like an excuse Munson,” she said his name as though it were a swear word.

You hopped from the couch as they bickered, tiny jabs poked into each other while you cleaned their snacks from the coffee table. Their voices were muffled over the noise of the sink but you watched as they argued, animated hands emphasizing their opposing points and chuckled to yourself. The three of you had been friends since you were kids and every Thursday night since middle school played out the same. Arguments over what movie to watch, Eddie sardonic and a little condescending whenever your latest celebrity crush was the focus of that week’s movie night. He was into blood and gore, slasher flicks from the eighties. Anything that didn’t include Steve Harrington on the cast list.

“What’s that?” Eddie’s voice was loud above the sound of the sink, grabbing your attention. You looked at him first and saw the question in his gaze before looking to where his finger pointed. Bright lights showed through your curtains casting shadows along your walls. You turned the sink off and wiped your hands with a kitchen towel, eyebrows pulled inward as you walked closer to the window.

“I have no idea,” you muttered and pulled the curtains back. A news van was lined up in front of your trailer, rows of people facing your front door and you turned back to your friends.

“It’s the news,” you stated, still unsure of why they would be at your front door.

“Eddie, what did you do?” Holly accused, shooting a side-eye his way.

“What makes you think it was something I did?” He questioned, tone only slightly offended by the accusation but the conversation was cut off by a sharp knock at the door. You stood still, eyes bulging as you looked at the door unsure of what to do.

“Well, are you going to answer it?” Eddie asked and you looked at him, panic rising. He rolled his eyes, moved off the couch with a huff, and flung open the door.

“Good evening, I’m Alexa with Fox59 is (Y/N) home?” Eddie turned to you, nodding his head in the newscaster's direction and you stared at him with a slack jaw. Unable to move or form a sentence. He shook his head at you, moving the few steps it took to grab your hand and bring you to the front door.

“Are you (Y/N)?” The newscaster asked, white teeth framed by a bold pink lipstick. You recognized her from TV, nights spent watching the late-night news. You nodded rapidly at her question still unable to find your voice.

“Congratulations!” Her voice was loud, exaggerated excitement and you weren’t sure what she was congratulating you about. Eddie took in the scene, neighbors standing in your small slice of a yard and gawking at you. The newscaster with her big red hair and overdone face smiling at you waiting for your response. The lights of the cameras were bright, almost overwhelming under their beams and Eddie could feel the heat rising to his neck at the amount of eyes that were currently on the both of you. Not to mention all those who were watching from home.

“Uh, what is this about?” He asked Alexa quietly.

“She just won a date with Steve Harrington!” The newscaster explained and Holly screamed from her place on the couch, running toward you to celebrate. Grabbing your arm as she jumped up and down at the news. Eddie stood statuesque, face a mask as he processed the news.

“Oh my god, we are so excited!” Holly screamed once more but you were stunned silent, unable to process your fortune. You’d never thought you’d call yourself lucky. The world kept spinning, Alexa talking at what felt like a mile a minute detailing your prize.

“You’ve won a first-class flight to LA, all expenses paid suite, and a shopping spree to prepare you for your date night with one of America’s biggest stars.” Your eyes grew wide as you gulped at the news, realization finally creeping in.

You won a date with Steve fucking Harrington.

“Tell me why I have to go on a date with someone from my hometown?” Steve scoffed as he turned off his TV, eyebrows set in an angry scowl.

“We need to remind everyone that you are the boy next door, that you have blue-collar roots, and that you’re not just some playboy running around tinsel town,” Jones stated as though this were obvious.

“My dad worked as the COO for a Fortune 500 and my mom got to retire early, not exactly blue-collar,” Steve huffed.

“Details schmetails, all they need to see is a big-time star returning to his roots in small-town America even if that’s just a date with a girl from Hawkins, Indiana,”

“What’s her name again?” Dennis told him, patience wearing thin.

“Oh she sounds real cute,” Steve muttered sarcastically, eyes rolling to the back of his head as he poured himself a drink.

“It doesn’t matter if she’s the next Angelina Jolie or if she looks like something from the county fair, you’re going on a date with her and you’re going to be nice,” Dennis hung up before Steve had time to argue.

“H-hello?” Steve stammered into the dead tone before throwing his earpiece off and taking a large gulp of whiskey, wincing at the sting of the alcohol. He repeated your name to himself, checking how it felt on his tongue. Steve rolled his shoulders as he thought about your date, frustration settling into his muscles.

“You have to give me every detail, how he smells, how bright his eyes really are in person,” Holly grabbed your hands as the three of you stood outside of the TSA line.

“I’ll tell you everything,” you promised.

“I want a report so good that I can smell him too, and if you kiss-“

“I doubt that’s going to happen,” you laughed, nerves settling into your stomach.

“Oh please, he’ll get one look at you and have to.”

“Don’t go wishing hell on her,” Eddie scoffed and nudged Holly out of the way pulling you into his arms. His lips settled by your ear, warm breath fanning against your skin. He smelled of bergamot and tobacco, a small hint of the spearmint gum he was chewing so he could try to kick the bad habit.

“Just have fun okay? Don’t let him be a creep or try anything slick. I will drive to Hollywood and kick his ass if he does, I promise,” you laughed against his chest knowing that he was sincere, and nodded at his words.

“I’ll try my best,” Eddie’s eyes started to turn into saucers, “to have fun.” You corrected. The time to take off was ticking down and you still had to get through security. You turned to check the line and back to your friends.

“I guess I should go before I miss my flight,” you pointed a thumb at the throng of people.

“We’ll see you Sunday,” Eddie nodded and waved you off, looking at you with a gaze you didn’t recognize. Holly watched him as he watched you, a knowing grin finding its way onto her face.

“You loooove her,” she teased after you disappeared into the line, poking at his side and Eddie guffawed. Laugh forced as his cheeks blossomed pink.

“Like a friend,” he corrected.

“Friends don’t look at each other with hearts in their eyes, you look like one of those Looney Tunes characters. Heart practically hammering out of your chest,” she was on a roll and Eddie began to walk away.

“Do you want to walk home?” He asked, attention still trained on the exit and she immediately shut up. The click of her heels light against the linoleum floors as they left the airport.

You walked off the escalator, eyes trained on the sunny streets of Los Angeles. Smile wide and eyes full of excitement. You couldn’t believe that you were here, that this was real, and that you finally made it out of the Midwest even if just for one day. There was a line of drivers situated by the exit doors, signs with last names printed on them of their lucky passengers being driven around LA. You noticed a limo behind the line of them. Black and sleek. What a dream, you thought as you continued to walk towards the front door. You stopped in your tracks, your brain finally catching up with what you had seen. You turned back around and noticed your name on one of those signs. You looked up to the burly man who held the paper and pointed to yourself.

“That’s me!” Your voice was an excited squeal.

“Right this way, miss,” and he moved to the side, hand pointed to the stretch limousine parked along the curb, the same one you had been gawking at.

“Holy cannoli,” you muttered, following him in a stupor.

“Can I take your bags?” He asked you, pointing to the only one you had with you.

“Oh you don’t have to,” you waved him off and he chuckled.

“I insist,” and he moved to grab your belongings. Freeing you of carrying the heavy weight on your shoulder. The sun’s rays were warm against your skin, air mild and cool against your cheeks. The airport was busy, cars and shuttle buses scurrying by like a little city within a much larger one. The sounds of it all were nearly overwhelming. The driver opened your door and showed you in.

“What was your name?” You asked, not noticing a name tag anywhere on his blazer.

“Anthony,” he smiled politely.

“Thanks, Anthony,” you grinned and slid into the car. The dark roof was dotted with white lights to give the illusion of the night sky, black leather seats curved on your right with a small bar situated on your left. Fully stocked with snacks and champagne, a small TV with a built-in DVD player beside it.

“This is amazing,” you beamed and looked at Anthony through the opening between the front cab and the rest of the limo. He chuckled at your enthusiasm.

“Your first time in a limo?” He asked even though it was very apparent. Still, you nodded in response.

“And LA, I’ve never been out of Indiana before,” you mentioned.

“Well, welcome to Hollywood,” he greeted. “Looks like we’re going to Noell’s. Fancy place, you have a big event tonight?” Your heart fluttered at the reminder.

“A date,” you started, “with Steve Harrington,” you squealed and it was the first time you’d said it out loud. The driver whistled at the news, eyebrows perked high on his forehead.

“You be careful with them actor types,” he suggested and you nodded wondering exactly what he meant. 

The rest of the ride was spent in silence as he drove through the congested streets and you gawked at the sights. It was the first time you’d seen the ocean and you watched fascinated as the deep blue glimmered with the reflection of the sun. Dogs wore costumes, kids were dressed to the nines, and everyone had a cell phone. It was the talk of the town when the first shipment arrived in Hawkins but it seemed the norm here, like no one batted an eye at the arrival, and it’d be more of an oddity that you didn’t have one. The car slowed to a stop, idling in front of a boutique with beautiful gowns displayed in the front window.

“I’ll be waiting out here until you’re done,” Anthony stated, looking at you through the rearview as you looked at the shop and the busy sidewalks filled with people. You slid out of the car, the bright sky greeting you again. You’d imagined the air would smell like the ocean or a floral breeze, but the reality of it was far from pleasant. The smell of tobacco and stale urine filled your nose as you walked the short distance and through the front door of the shop.

“Hi there, welcome to Noell’s! I’m Amy. What are we looking for today?” The associate was petite, her small frame barely seen above the front counter she stood behind. She had a heart-shaped face, vibrant green eyes, and brunette hair down to her shoulders.

“I have a date tonight and just needed to get something to wear,” you shrugged and played absently with your hair, suddenly shy.

“Are you (Y/N)?”

“Uh yes, that’s me?” You weren’t sure how she knew your name.

“They told me the lucky girl would be stopping by today. We already pulled a few choices for you,” she waved you on and walked toward the back, assuming you would follow. Your steps were quiet behind the clack of her heels against the hardwood floors. The store was massive, a rainbow of tulle and sequins that left you gawking as you followed her through rows of dresses organized by color. Amy stopped in front of a dressing room, a large rack of dresses situated next to it with what appeared to be a dress in each color.

“We pulled these for you, but feel free to look around. You can have anything you’d like,” your eyebrows shot up as you watched her walk away and retreat to the front desk. You stood in front of the dresses and ran your hands along the fabrics, the lace of the bodices, and the intricate details of each. You wanted something that would make Steve’s jaw drop and leave him at a loss for words. Be the hot, mysterious date you told Eddie you would be. You giggled to yourself in the silence, giddy with the prospect of shocking the Steve Harrington. You pushed through the dresses they provided, but none of them were quite you. You looked outside the dressing room to the sea of dresses to choose from and began wandering the aisles, admiring the purple and blue fabrics, until your eyes stumbled upon a dress that you knew was the one. You pulled it off the rack and admired the details. It was a long deep red dress that hung from one shoulder with a black mesh overlay and a high slit.

“Would you like to try that on?” Amy was walking towards you, brunette curls bouncing as she did.

“Uh, yeah,” you nodded and handed her the dress. She walked you back to the dressing room, placing the dress on one of the hooks inside the small space.

“Just let me know if you need anything else,” she stated as she sauntered away. You stared at the dress, a little intimidated by the high slit that would reveal your upper thigh. You shook your head and swallowed your fears away as you pulled off your jeans and your shirt. The dress was smooth against your skin as you pulled it on and closed the zipper. The silk and mesh hung over your curves and fit like a glove, accentuating the fat of your ass and the size of your boobs. It was more daring than anything you had ever worn, but you felt beautiful, and this was how you wanted Steve to see you.

“How’s that one working for you?” Amy asked through the door and you unlocked it to gauge her reaction. Her green eyes widened and she smiled up at you.

“That dress was made for you,” she commented and it didn’t sound like a typical sales associate spiel.

“I’ll take it,” you affirmed as the nerves unfurled and in their place butterflies took flight.

You sat on the edge of your hotel bed, a large king-size mattress situated in the middle of the suite you were provided. The room was dipped in luxury, with a crystal chandelier hanging from the high ceilings, and a plasma TV placed on an intricate entertainment stand surrounded by cream-colored couches. You felt like Cinderella, like you were walking in a dream, and at any moment you’d wake back up in the four walls of the small trailer you’d always lived in. The butterflies were in your chest now threatening to strangle the little air you could get to your lungs as you took deep breaths and ran sweaty palms against the fabric of your dress. You’d have thrown yourself into the soft fabric of the blankets to hide if you weren’t worried about ruining the makeup you’d spent so long on. Your lips were a deep red that accentuated your pout, eyes framed by a dramatic smoky eye that made the color of them all that more intense. There was a knock at your door that broke through your thoughts and you craned your head towards the noise, eyes glued to the wood frame. Unable to will your feet to move. Another knock came, more urgent, a little less patient, and finally your feet moved. You rushed to the door, pulling it open a little klutzy and almost catching your dress on the handle. You looked down to pull it away, not even noticing the hazel eyes roaming over your frame.

“Wow,” Steve breathed, shocked by your appearance. How stunning you were. You looked at him, a small smile forming on your lips as the butterflies moved into your throat and cut your vocal cords from working. You were full-on malfunctioning.

“Hi, I’m Steve,” he extended his hand towards you and you nodded, nervous giggles erupting from your lips as you slipped your hand into his warm grasp.

“You look amazing,” he motioned to your dress as he pulled his hand from yours. Your cheeks turned a shade darker at the compliment, your smile widening.

“Y-you do too,” you stammered, having trouble not being star-struck. Steve was even more handsome in person. His hazel eyes were framed by the longest lashes you’d seen, freckles dotting his cheekbones and the line of his jaw. His sun-kissed skin was draped in a white dinner coat, a black button-up underneath only buttoned to the middle of his chest revealing a smidge of hair. You swallowed hard at the sight resisting the urge to run over fingers over the muscled flesh. Not wanting to look like one of those stalker weirdos. Steve tilted his head to the hallway, thumb pointing behind him and you finally noticed the security guards who were standing nearby.

“Should we head to dinner?”

“Yeah, sounds good,” you breathed. The words were coming easier now as the two of you walked down the hall and to the back entrance of the hotel.

“I should warn you,” he started and began digging in his jacket pockets pulling out a pair of sunglasses and handing them to you. You looked at them curiously, unfolding them and looking up at him for an explanation.

“It can get a little bright, a little intimidating.” He slid a pair of his own over the line of his nose, eyes hidden behind the dark lenses. You didn’t know what he meant but you slid them on as you descended the stairs into the private parking garage. At the bottom of the steps you were met by a swarm of photographers, the bulbs of their cameras flashing and nearly blinding as you tried to maneuver around them. Steve grabbed your hand, pulling you through the mass of paparazzi and towards the waiting limousine. You slid against the leather seat, breath coming out in anxious spurts as he closed the door behind him. Still, the photographers continued, cameras flashing and pressed against the windows for a secret shot.

“Is it always like that?” You asked, listening to their muffled voices and watching as they swarmed the car. Steve removed his sunglasses, playing with the temples but not meeting your gaze.

“Yeah, it is. The sunglasses don’t really block the lights out but at least you can hide behind them you know?” And you understood, a little hedge of protection in a flood of people wanting to intrude.

“I’m sorry,” you apologized sincerely, just now realizing how the photographers got those candid shots of Steve you always gushed over.

“Don’t be,” he smirked and looked at you, “'s what I signed up for right?” And you knew that was the common consensus, celebrities took center stage so they wanted the nonstop attention right?

“Seems pretty intrusive is all,” you shrugged and looked at your fingers resting in your lap. Steve watched you, scanning the length of your legs and the way the material hugged your curves once again.

“Let’s just have fun tonight,” he suggested, not wanting to dwell on the downside of celebrity.

“Let’s,” you agreed with a broader smile.

The restaurant was fancier than any of the ones Hawkins had to offer. The ceiling boasted an intricate pattern of hexagons and copper chandeliers, the lights set dim to create an ambiance. On one side of the restaurant, there was a glass case of wine bottles stacked from floor to ceiling, and in front of the case was a large granite bar with bar stools scattered around it. The other wall was floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the city, the lights of the skyscrapers like constellations. You were shown to your table by the maître d’, a private table in a room away from prying eyes. The two of you settled across from each other, a rolling table brought over with a chilled bottle of champagne and a flute filled for each of you.

“Compliments of the house,” the waiter stated and Steve smiled politely as he looked at you scan the menu with a creased brow.

“I’ll be back in just a moment to get your orders,” the man stated and walked back through the doors of the private dining area. You stared at a page of the menu, French words you didn’t understand, or entrees you’d never tasted. It was…a lot, and you felt like you were over your head.

“Not sure what to get?” He asked and you shook your head before placing your menu on the table to look at him.

“You know what I haven’t had in a while?”

“What is that?” You rested your chin into your palm as you waited for him to elaborate.

“A good burger.” Your eyebrows shot up in surprise at his cheeky grin.

“You mean to tell me,” you opened the menu, “that foie gras isn’t your cup of tea?” You looked at him over your lashes as he laughed and took a sip of champagne.

“Not really into eating liver.”

“That’s what that is?” You couldn’t hide the horror of his revelation and his chuckle grew louder.

“Want to get out of here? Get something that isn’t a filter?” You nodded your head, eyes big and full of alarm. Steve stood first extending his hand toward you to usher you out of the dining space and into the main restaurant. Just as he opened the door the waiter returned.

“Will you not be dining with us today?” He asked, concerned.

“Not feeling it tonight, but thank you for your hospitality,” Steve responded and placed folded-up bills into the guy’s shirt pocket before extending his arm for you to take. Anthony was waiting for you where you left him, a little surprised by your sudden reappearance.

“That was a fast dinner,” he commented, looking at you through his rearview to make sure nothing went awry.

“Fine dining just isn’t for me,” you assured and he nodded with a knowing grin.

“Where to?”

“Know a good burger joint?” Steve asked him as he poured the two of you more champagne from the bar.

“There’s the Seaside Kitchen right near Venice Beach,” Anthony offered with a shrug of his shoulder.

“Oh, the beach, I've never been!" You clapped excitedly.

“Let’s go there,” Steve smiled and watched your giddy excitement the entire drive.

The air smelled of salt, and the noise of the waves covered the sound of the lingering seagulls overhead. You took in your surroundings, noticing that there weren't many tourists roaming the sands with the sun long set. You spotted a bonfire in the distance, a small group crowded around it. The beach was dark and only illuminated by the nearby lampposts that glimmered a bright white. It was serene, the first quiet moment since you stepped off the plane. You and Steve wadded through the sand barefoot, feet sinking into the cold as you walked closer to the water.

“Sorry it’s not much of a view since the sun isn’t up,” Steve remarked setting a blanket he got from the limo down onto the sand as you held a box full of burgers, fries, and two cokes. Your stomach was grumbling, hunger roaring and making you queasy. You looked around once more and smiled to yourself before turning back to Steve.

“It’s perfect, I never thought I’d get to see it,” you told him and sat with your legs stretched in front of you, feet buried into the sand.

“You and your family never vacationed anywhere when you were young?” You shook your head as you chewed the bite of burger you took, swallowing it down to explain.

“My mom and dad passed when I was young so my grandma took me in. Not much you can get on social security let alone beach vacations,” you laughed and sipped on your coke. You were used to explaining and answering any child or adult when they questioned why your parents weren't at a school function or recital. Why your grandma was the only one in attendance. The sting of their deaths was now a dull wound, one that didn't make you choke back tears or want to hide behind closed doors like before.

“I’m so sorry,” he muttered and you shooed his apology.

“Don’t be sorry, I didn’t have a lot but my grandma loved me and this is extra special since I’m experiencing it with you,” you took another bite and looked off into the waves. Dark blue, almost black, pushing against the white of the sand. Steve looked at you and traced the line of your cheekbones to your jaw with his gaze. A little struck. Entranced by how beautiful you were.

“Hawkins any different from when I lived there?” You looked up thoughtfully and thought of what was different.

“Well the grocery store is open until ten now but other than that I’d say it’s much the same since you left,” you giggled. Steve chewed on some fries and thought of his hometown. Thought of Hawkins High and his time as King Steve, the drives to Lover’s Lake, the nights spent at house parties or drinking by the golf course at the country club until the sun came up.

“You ever miss it?” You questioned, taking another bite as you waited for his response. He swallowed his food and took a sip of soda.

“Believe it or not sometimes this all gets old,” he waved around the scenery. “Sometimes I just miss being home in my own bubble, hanging out with friends without prying eyes and just the lack of sound. It’s so loud here.”

“It really is! I don’t know how anyone sleeps,” you chuckled around your food, holding your hand in front of your mouth so he didn’t catch sight of your chewed food.

“I didn’t sleep for the first few weeks until I adjusted to the noise, now I don’t know how I’ll sleep if I ever leave,” he shook his head and the two of you continued to eat in comfortable silence.

“What about you? Do you ever wish you could leave?”

“Sometimes, but I don’t think I’d be away for long. There’s nothing like feeling at home somewhere and that’s what I have,” you thought for a moment, “but I would get something better than what I have if I could.”

“Something better?”

“I live in the trailer my grandma left me when she passed a few years ago, and it’s cozy but I’ve never had anything that’s mine. Everything has been passed down or thrifted. Always belonged to someone else first.”

“Ever thought of your ideal place?” You dabbed the napkin against your mouth and wiped your hands, squeezing the napkin as you gave a thoughtful nod.

“Pretty sure I’ve thought of it every day since I was twelve,” you sighed as you thought of those daydreams, “My parents used to have a spread of land, acres that seemed never-ending. I used to play all day and get lost in the trees. I miss that. If I ever got my own land I would fill it up with animals and have my own garden. Maybe a library if I was lucky,” you pushed your lips together as the silence settled over you, your dreams on display for him to see.

“Like little goats and pigs?” He shared in the picture you painted, adding his own details.

“Cows too. Heard there’s nothing like snuggling one,” he choked on the soda he drank, laughing at the image of a cow lying on top of him.

“I don’t know about the snuggling,” he dismissed the idea.

“Ugh, but the little babies? Especially the furry ones? How could you not!” He stared at you with a wide smirk, eyes glimmering at your enthusiasm. A wave of embarrassment flooded through you as to how you might sound to him. The big Hollywood star who had already experienced so much, things bigger than a farm with baby cows and goats. More than you could dare to dream. You rubbed awkwardly at your hair suddenly self-conscious.

“Sorry, I must sound so small town,” you apologized and he shook his head at you reaching for your wrist so that you’d look at him. You looked where you were connected, his warm skin against yours, electricity wherever his fingers grasped.

“Don’t do that,” he chided softly, “it’s refreshing. Like I said, this gets old. I have the same industry conversations every night droning on about the next project or award season. Even in interviews I’m asked the same questions but no one really cares about the answers anymore,” he laughed as he cut his ranting off.

“Sorry about that,” he muttered, flashing an awkward smile in your direction. You placed your hand over his, rubbing your thumb against his knuckles.

“What did we say about sorry?” You chided and he nodded with a slight roll of his eyes.

“Plus, I care about the answers,” you added nonchalantly. He beamed, taking your hand as he stood and pulled you to your feet. 

“Let’s dip our toes in,” he suggested and began peeling off his shoes. You kicked off your heels leaving them beside the blanket as the two of walked near the shore. The sound of the waves grew louder as you approached, the sand cold and wet but easier to walk through. You waited until the water drew closer and dipped your toe in squealing with the temperature.

“Holy shit, it’s freezing,” you turned to him but he was already watching you enthralled by your childlike wonder.

“You can’t just dip a toe in, got to go in feet first so you can’t second guess it,” he suggested but you were nervous. Afraid of the shock of the water and Steve noticed.

“Here, take my hand,” you looked at his outstretched arm, palm face up in an offering. A life raft before you plunged deeper and you took it, twining your fingers with his as you took the leap. Jumping feet first into the cold waves, squealing only slightly as they crashed over your shins and dampened the bottom of your dress. You jumped and Steve held you closer, your back to his warm chest as your toes sank into the ocean floor gradually. You could feel his heart hammering against you, felt the way his eyes were trained on you and you turned. His face was illuminated by the moon, bronze skin a little less vibrant in the evening glow. Eyes trained on your lips, face inching towards yours. Your eyelashes fluttered as you moved closer to him, your noses brushing, and his lips were a whisper against yours. He pressed fully into your pout, his lips soft and warm against yours as they moved gently. A small gasp escaped as he learned the shape of your lips, the way you liked to be kissed. Sweet and sensual. You tangled your fingers into the hair at the nape of his neck, chest pressed into his and his warm palms traced the line of your waist until they rested just above your ass. Steve brought your bottom lip into his mouth sucking gently and releasing it with a small pop. You hummed against his mouth, kissing him deeper and swiping his bottom lip asking for entrance. He opened for you, tongue darting against yours as he kneaded the dough of your ass. The kiss turned needy, a different kind of hunger settling into your gut but you pulled away looking into Steve’s wide gaze.

“Did I do something wrong?” He asked, hands moving back up to the middle of your back. You rubbed your nose against his fondly and shook your head.

“No, no. I just,” you sighed. You didn’t want this to be a one-time thing, a speedy hookup on the beach. You wanted more and you knew you had no right to it.

“It’s getting late, and I just thought I should head back to the hotel. Get some rest. Think your agent has me on the first flight out,” you grinned at him apprehensively and worried he’d be mad.

“Sounds like the bastard,” he shook his head and nodded towards the car.

“C'mon I’ll make sure you get back,” you cleaned up your makeshift picnic and settled into the back of the limo, sitting a little closer to Steve than when the night first started. His hand settled on the skin of your exposed thigh. Rubbing circles, creating goosebumps.

Anthony pulled into the private garage and it was a relief when you saw no sight of paparazzi around you. Steve turned his attention to you after scanning the lot, hazel gaze fixed on yours.

“I had a really fun time tonight, thank you,” and he meant it, sincerity written on his face. You smiled at him, less shy than before, and placed a chaste kiss on his pinked lips.

“Thank you,” you emphasized and turned to open the door. Steve squeezed your hand one last time and watched you walk back up the stairs the two of you had descended at the beginning of the night. He was wrapped in his thoughts and completely struck by you.

-

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#steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington imagines #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington smut #steve harrington fic #steve harrington fandom #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington x female reader smut #steve harrington x y/n angst #steve harrington x y/n #eddie munson #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson imagines #eddie x female reader #eddie x fem!reader #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x female reader smut #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x fem!reader fluff #eddie munson x female character #Spotify

[kit-williams]

Pastel Bats

@bispecsual @egrets-not-regrets @moodymisty @bleedingichorhearts @liar-anubiass-blog

There were pastel bats upon the walls... this was your new home as you looked down at the infant drinking from the bottle. The room was bright with soft yellow walls and cute looking animals painted upon them. Your humming paused for only a moment and you swear you can hear a distant scream. You look to the large door. You were well fed... you were safe in the nursery... and that was alright. "Such a big boy you are Amir." You coo down to the grey eyed baby.

How a gummy smile is around the teat of the bottle as he slams his little feet against the padded floor of the playpen. No longer content on being contained by any sort of bed for a less active baby... no no the small boy had decided that standing was fun and had taken one to many tumbles on his head meaning he had to go see the doctor.

His eyes still wet from his most recent crying fit as he was a needy little thing with such big demands who liked bananas and didn't like green beans... he wanted to be held to fall asleep... and... you just find yourself holding the little boy with the odd growths on his skin... his mouth hurting because he's teething... and he still growing. You just sigh picking up the impatient to grow up little man to go see the doctor.

You watch Anrir Nor work as the two servo skulls fluttered about... one above Amir just out of reach of his grabby little hands trying to pull on the cabling and thrash it around when he does succeed making the cutes little gurgles. The other keeping notes as you watch the robotic limbs on his back move to grab things or seem to move in an almost behavioral tick.

"Any worrying things you'd like to bring up today." He says akin to how a pediatrician would ask you wonder if he says it on purpose or is simply saying it to make fun of you.

"He's scratching a bit and causing cuts but... other wise it's fine."

You watch him sit Amir up as he listens to his hearts. His eyes closing as he listens. "The scratching is from the subdermal growth of black carapace so its normal." He says with medical precision.

----

That was weeks ago... as you lay in the playpen that you laid with Amir as you and the others here followed protocol and the kids were asleep... they just fell asleep so quickly... it didn't work on you. You had to sing to Amir to get him to settle in his little pod to let whatever was in there to work on him.

There are pastel bats upon the walls... food's run out and the door is locked so tightly as there was a pressure leak outside of this safe haven in hell. You were all going to starve to death looking at the pastel animals upon the walls....

----

"His egg doner died today." Anrir says muttering softly as he continues to check over Amir and give him his shots.

"Oh that's not... good?" You say unuse to him talking to you.

"Yes... but you seem to like Amir so how about a proposition?" He says and you see the wickedness of his grin and all you could think to say was...

"What is the offer?"

----

You killed someone today... he was trying to break one of the pods. You had enough strength to do something about it. You wandered over to Amir's pod to sing to him... ignoring the way how someone... or some others were shamelessly ripping into the body... you sang to him to drown out the sounds... you sang to him as someone came by with cooked meat... and bought into the lie of them finding some... it gave you enough strength to draw... and all your numb mind could draw were those damned pastel bats...

----

"What if I just tell you what you'll get out of it?" Anrir says which that dangerous purr... you shifted as you had learned... or well it was a rumor that this man was also the head of the warband you found yourself in service to. You watch him brush some of that silky black hair behind his ear. "You may talk freely if you need to hear me say that."

"I mean I'd like to hear that too but what do you want from me?"

"Your body my dear."

----

You stopped leaving Amir's side as you hardly had any strength left to do so... you were being fed enough to stay alive... just barely. Someone came by to say that there were people outside and it might be a few more days before they could leave... that or they could just be telling you how you were next to be eaten... you didn't know any more.

----

He told you what he wanted with medical precision as you feel the marker tip tickling your skin and the metal appendages on his back caging you in. But you'd get better rations... you'd get better things... better treatment... it was all very tempting... all for the low low price of your body.

"Why... what do you get out of this?" You ask the black eyed man who looked surprised you even asked.

"Do you want the long answer or the the short answer?"

You broke eye contact with him for a moment as you thought before speaking, "Long?"

"The short version of the long answer is... I'm tired of watching the legion that I love fall apart via treachery and cowardness. Your corpse emperor isn't the answer but neither is the Four. And loyalty is a fickle thing..."

"So you're raising those who would be loyal to you?"

He grinned so wickedly, "Smart girl. Plus I can instill them the meaning of the legion! While fixing a few things that... lets say our environment was lacking at crucial stages of development."

"Giving them something you lacked?"

"Exactly."

"Didn't know childhood development was part of your education."

"Its not I ordained myself to learn it after I decided to say 'fuck it' to my last warband. So... what do you say?"

----

You should have said yes... you think as you stare at the sleeping little boy... the only thing you latched onto in this hell that you were dragged into screaming. Given a baby boy to keep alive and told your survival was tied to his development.

The boom of the bolter causes you to jump as you feel something splatter against your back as red paints the glass of the pods and you struggle to sit up. You see the midnight blue armor something different from the soft pastels around.

"Aww you left a list of his likes." The skull faced mask looks down at you with glowing red eyes. "But did you think of my offer dear?"

You try to say something which causes him to lean in before picking you up and hearing you whisper. "Yes"

#warhammer 40k #night lords #infants #Zhur is an evil genius #his breakthrough is very good for those who have aspirations for the old ways #apothecary #apothecary night lord #This was suppose to be normal horror #but it veered into yandere #I think its yandere #I wrote this at midnight and I need to be in bed for work tomorrow #Oc: Amir #oc: anrir nor #space marines

[m3wllo]

sppspspsppsps crimson/ctrl lore grabby hands

hooh boy ctrl.. (content warning for: “graphic” hallucinations and death mentions) 

(note: these headcanons dont apply to double troublectrl)

full (legal) name: crimson aether! i came up with that name on the spot in a rp and im very proud of it hehe~ his hairs much flatter than canoncopys. you can thank light for this, some with his change in dress and fading hair dye. light said it would help him look "more professional" or something

inherted lights DN after he fucking died (<-some rando death god decided itd be funny to kill him)

hes around the same age as light, and took off from wammys after the LA.B.B thing happened. still dated zayn for awhile then ran away but this time he instead fucked off to japan!

instead of his glitchy ass name + life span, he has a halo! its not super visible to the naked eye but...the glows very faintly noticeable.

used to be dating light while he was still alive! light was using misa as a decoy partner of sorts

hes 5'5 and not as uh.....gestures vaguely at canoncopy his tits arent as big yk

the lack of glasses was, once again, lights idea. making him use his shinigami eye more to be able to see better and also it taking a toll on his mental + physical health

fucking christ if you thought canoncopy was deranged just wait till you meet THIS freak

listens to exclusively classic and jazz, despite the fact it drives him fucking insane. he listens to that kind of music specifically to help keep up his ctrl facade.

he thought that by staying up for weeks, nearly months sometimes, would help stave off nightmares and other uh. unpleasant stuff but by god was he fucking wrong!!!

frequent hallucinations include: blood on his hands, blood on the walls, blood on his death note and pens, blood on the mirrors, just a lot of blood in general its a nightmare, people screaming, things being on fire (including but not limited to: his DN and himself), roadkill + corpses (<-these ones usually appear in his house), and more that i cant think of rn

veeery particular about his apperance, to the point of near obsession. he has to look perfect at all times, its not very Godly of him to not be, you know?

hes only continuing the whole kira thing because of light, this often leads him to "moral delliemas"

this isnt a headcanon but i *love* the idea of Ryuk watching his son (oh right, copy and ryuk are related via adoption!) drive himself completely insane

#dont ask how long it took me to figure out how to add the readmore #anyways how do i fucking tag this #uhh #kira!copy #ctrl kira au #???? #i guess that works #torasks #hi cass!

[agerefandom]

I’ve started writing an agere death note fic, I was wondering if you wanted to read it

I very much would!! That’s so exciting! 

#*grabby hands* death note content #my beloved #asks #anon

[moralesispunk]

The Boys and Fathers Day

For: Frankie Morales, Din Djarin, Marcus Moreno, Pero Tovar, Marcus Pike, Dave York, Maxwell Lord and Agent Whiskey

Mentions of being a parent, pregnancy, but just a whole lot of fluff

Frankie

You love to spoil Frankie and it was clear that Sofia had inherited this from you. She had been babbling about Father's Day from the minute you both noticed the cards in the supermarket and so you let her take the lead on this one. It was his third Father's Day so the first one Sofia could actually help with and she decided to take charge. Before Frankie was awake you were both sneaking around the kitchen trying not to wake him while making some chocolate chip pancakes. You "helped" her carry the tray of them to Frankie in bed and by the time the tray was on his lap they were now slightly orange juice soaked pancakes but he loved them with his whole heart.

The sight of them was enough to make anyone's heart melt; Frankie with his bed head sitting up against the headboard as the tray balanced on his still bed sheet covered lap with Sofia climbing under the covers with him. She has made a card for him the day before, a drawing of him with a superhero cape standing next to a 'copter. The three of you didn't leave bed for the rest of the day having a Disney movie marathon and when she finally fell asleep at the end of the day, starfished out between you both, Frankie looks at you and tells you just how much he loves you, thanking you for giving him this family.

Din

Let's pretend Father's Day extends to the outer rim of the galaxy. Din has never been spoiled a day in his life, not celebrating birthdays or any other day, but what better way to break that cycle than celebrating Father's Day.

Din was never one to get a lie in and if he didn't wake up naturally then one of his mini clan barrelling into your room to climb over you both would. You made sure to wake up early enough that day to wrangle the kids together before they got the chance wake up your sleeping riddur. You got them all to help in making a breakfast for Din before taking it to him in bed.

This man will blush at the amount of attention on him, lifting the kids to join him in the bed as he shares out the breakfast while still half asleep. He will send you a shy smile, thanking you for this, before pulling his youngest daughter into his lap. The rest of the day will go on as normal because you're sure if he gets any more attention he will blush to death, but you're glad you got to spoil him for that moment.

Marcus M

Marcus had a few Father's Days with Missy before you had met him, but this was his first as a father of two. You and Missy had got into a routine the past couple of years on this day; you would help her make a card the day before and help her with breakfast the day of before both of you made his favourite cookies as he relaxed and watched whatever game was on.

This year she was extra excited to get her new baby brother in on the celebrations and wanted to get him to make his own card, which resulted in you both with a lot of paint over your clothes and two tiny handprints on the card. You woke up with the baby, getting him ready for the day before getting Missy out of bed to start on breakfast. She set the table and you finished breakfast off just in time for Marcus and his bed head padding barefoot into the kitchen. It was a quiet morning, Marcus giving you a kiss on the cheek before taking the baby and sitting at the table. You offered to hold him while Marcus enjoyed his breakfast but he seemed more than content sitting with him on one knee as he eat the pancakes one handed. While he sat with the baby watching the games you and Missy got to making the triple chocolate cookies before you all had a family movie day on the sofa. Marcus sitting with Missy curled into his side and the baby asleep on his chest with one arm around you was his happy place.

Pero

Another one who is not used to being spoiled and so you love getting the chance to do so. You buy the meat that is a little more expensive during the week, keeping it from Pero until the Sunday where you start his favourite stew as soon as the baby wakes for the day. By the time Pero wakes (a lot later than usual) the smell of the stew is covering the house as it simmers away on the stew for the night.

As soon as he walks into the kitchen, Sofia is making grabby hands at her Papa and is quickly pulled into his chest for a morning cuddle. "Happy Father's Day!" she shouts, a well practiced few words you had spent that morning teaching her. "Thank you, sweetheart," he coos as he rubs her cheek, leaning over to kiss your cheek, "this is too much my love."

"Not for the best Papa in the world," you give him a kiss back before shooing him into the garden for a day of relaxing while you finish prepping the dinner and pie for that night.

Marcus P

There was a special surprise you had for Marcus that you were keeping for this day, ordering it off the internet a few weeks before. He had been so busy with work you knew that he would have a long lie and that would give you enough time to get it sorted. As soon as your daughter woke up you got her ready, putting on the t-shirt you bought for her and a cardigan, before starting on some breakfast. As you flipped the pancakes, Marcus walked into the kitchen, leaning down to give your daughter who was in her high-chair a kiss on the head before coming over to give you a kiss.

"You've got something waiting on the table for you," you waved the spatula over to the countertop. There was a hand made card with a scribble of Marcus and Sofia on the front and signed by some messy hand prints on the inside.

"Oh there's one more thing, can you undo Sofia's cardigan for me?" Marcus was confused, his eyebrows furrowing as he lifted her from the chair and started to unbutton the cardigan as she rested on his hip. "Wait- are you serious?" he turned to you, tears in his eyes as he read the best big sister stamped across the front.

"Yes," you nodded, fighting back your own tears as you ran out the room and came back with the pregnancy test.This was the best Father's Day he would ever have.

Dave

If there was one thing that could turn Dave - the ever professional army trained man - into a puddle on the floor it was his three beautiful girls; his wife and two daughters. You all had him wrapped around your pinky fingers and he wouldn’t change a thing.

He had been away for work and wasn’t going to be home until lunch time so you all decided to bake his favourite lemon cake. It was just out the oven as he got home, his briefcase quickly dropping to the floor as the two girls ran into his arms. Despite the bags under his eyes he couldn’t stop smiling as he carried them both back into the kitchen, leaning down to give you a kiss. The two girls got a movie set up as you cut up the cake for you all. Dave only just managed to finish his slice and read his cards before letting the girls curl up into him as he fell asleep on the couch. His perfect welcome home.

Maxwell

You knew Maxwell needed some extra spoiling this year and so decided to plan something for him. You took Alastair shopping, buying some chocolates, flowers and a card before buying ingredients to make some brownies. 

You don't think you had ever seen him look so surprised when he walked into the kitchen that morning, you and Alastair both pulling the brownies from the oven with the cards chocolate and flowers on the kitchen table. He was a little choked up, giving Alastair a big hug and pulling you in for a kiss on the forehead. You definitely made note to spoil him like this more often.

Whiskey

Whiskey loves being a dad and loves to spoil his girls so you enjoy taking the opportunity to get the girls to spoil him. There's a full fried breakfast waiting for him in the morning as he pads into the kitchen barefoot, the three girls already climbing over him as he you usher him to the table.

"Al' this for me?" he puts on a shocked face as he tickles the youngest who is now sitting on his lap.

"Happy father's day," the oldest kisses his cheek, handing their well glittered cards over to him.

"Thank you sweetheart," he pulls her in for a hug.

It's a chaotic day as usual in the house, a lot of tickle fights and Disney sing alongs, but Jack loves it. Being a girl dad is what he was made for.

//

Permanent tag// @phoenixhalliwell @asta-lily @hb8301 @princess76179 @sarahjkl82-blog @spideysimpossiblegirl @blackmarketmummy @bison-writes @dihra-vesa @evyiione

#frankie morales x you #frankie catfish morales x you #din djarin x you #marcus moreno x you #pero tovar x you #marcus pike x you #dave york x you #maxwell lord x you #agent whiskey x you #frankie morales x reader #frankie catfish morales x reader #din djarin x reader #marcus moreno x reader #pero tovar x reader #marcus pike x reader #dave york x reader #maxwell lord x reader #agent whiskey x reader #headcannon #fic

[gumnut-logic]

Food in the Tracy household is a fugitive thing.

It has been known to appear and disappear in the blink of an eye. It has been known to be squirrelled away as if a billionaire or six may suddenly run into famine. It has been known to be spooned gently into a sick family member.

It has been known to be wrapped in decorative paper and handed over as gifts.

Yes, food is very popular in the Tracy household.

Well, all the food that wasn’t cooked by Grandma that is.

Why does Grandma continues to cook ghastly concoctions even though everyone in the building, including the many appropriately positioned pot plants, knows that it is a major failing on her part? Only Grandma knows.

Virgil suspects it is simply out of love and a need to show how much she truly cares.

Alan secretly suspects it is a long term plan to summon a demon.

In any case, it is highly recommended to all guests that their grandmother’s cooking be avoided.

Or exorcised, according to Alan.

Each of the boys has their favourite foods of course and each their own quirks at consuming them.

Scott is efficient. That is the only word that can really be applied. He’s a busy man. Food is necessary. It gets eaten. His tastes are simple and easy. It’s food, he’s hungry, get out of my way, Gordon.

He can knock some eggs up, a good sandwich…don’t let him near the barbecue unless you desire charcoal for your meal. Seared steak apparently comes in shades of black.

Virgil, on the other hand, loves a good meal. Sure, he’s a busy man too, but there is a lot of him needing feeding and he has been known to take those few extra minutes over a meal just to enjoy it. A snooze afterwards never hurts. Digestion is something one’s body should enjoy.

Never get between Virgil and his meal. You may be bulldozed. Politely bulldozed, but flattened nonetheless. He’s a busy man. This is his time with his food, don’t interrupt, Gordon, shut up.

Virgil can cook. As long as it is steak.

There have been wars fought over the barbecue between the two eldest brothers.

Do not touch Virgil’s steak.

Particularly if you are Scott.

John appreciates a fine meal. Of the five brothers, he is the one who will know about the wine. He’ll know which region it came from, what it should be eaten with and which year grew the plant it was made from. This, of course, means he is the most likely culprit to steal Scott’s boutique beers out of the fridge…to the point that one of the first signs of the middle brother being back on Earth is the sudden missing bottles from said refrigerator.

Virgil thinks it is hilarious.

Scott’s worried his brother is a secret alcoholic and keeps monitoring his intake.

Alan keeps messing with Scott’s head by pinching extra bottles to ‘up John’s intake’.

Gordon messes with everyone by refilling the bottles with apple juice.

But yes, John is the one to appreciate a good meal, most likely because he has to eat all that space crap eighty percent of the time.

Virgil likes to make sure his brother gets a treat from time to time.

So John gets gifted lots of steak.

Alan is fed and watered regularly. With four older brothers, a sister and a grandmother, it is not like he has any choice. The appropriate quantities of vegetables and fruit are provided daily and his consumption noted. Any diversion from the menu is queried thoroughly and a health assessment performed, usually by a pair of stern blue eyes that take their responsibility ever so seriously.

Too bad those eyes have yet to work out that quite a bit of that food is delivered to the two pet hamsters he has stashed in his room. Also Buddy and Ellie consume a diet not recommended by any vet on Planet Earth.

Buddy and Ellie have been eyeing the hamsters for quite some time and are happy Alan is fattening them up.

The hamsters agree with Alan regarding Grandma’s cooking and often mistake Gordon for the demon she is apparently attempting to summon.

Alan doesn’t mind his diet too much. He knows his brothers just love him to death and the feeling is mutual. Plus Kayo slips him junk food on a regular basis. How she got hot churros to the Island still hot, he has yet to work out…Shadow is fast, but really?

As for Kayo, she eats what she wants to eat. No one is going to argue with her. Hey, you want the last pancake, be my guest, here have the maple syrup. After all, she did get her nickname from the big blowout of 2049. One cupcake, five skittle brothers and a very hungry young female bowling ball. Hey, you try growing up in a house full of men and boys. It is either kick ass or have yours handed to you. Gordon, touch that and you die.

Don’t mess with Kayo. Regarding food, or any topic for that matter. Just don’t mess with her. Take her name as a warning and stand back.

No one is quite sure what Grandma eats. Alan is pretty sure it isn’t her own cooking otherwise how could she have possibly lived this long? Virgil keeps an eye on her, makes sure she is happy and content and has everything she needs. Gordon once tried scientific method on his grandmother and her food consumption, leaving several tempting tidbits around the place fixed with sensors to see which would take her fancy. Results were inconclusive since Alan ate half the experiment.

Virgil poured pink dye in the pool and the hypothesis was abandoned.

Brains is the trash can of the Island. He will eat anything put within arm’s reach. The engineer finds food an inconvenient bodily function and often won’t stop working to fulfil his body’s needs. Food appears beside him, the one neuron not focussed on whatever he is doing declares the food his and it is consumed efficiently.

Virgil quickly learnt to keep his lunch out of Brains’ reach when they are working together. One too many instances of going hungry because of grabby food hands taught him quickly.

Gordon, of course, thinks it is hilarious. The aquanaut once sat quietly beside the working engineer and managed to feed him an entire cheesecake piece by piece.

Scott was not impressed when Brains threw up on his shoes fifteen minutes later during his maintenance report. Gordon, go to my office, now!

And that leaves Gordon.

Gordon is a seagull. If you’ve got it, he wants it, and he will nag you until you give it to him.

Of course, this doesn’t prevent him from acquiring his own. Seagulls are scavengers after all. Then he will sit at the table with his plate or bowl of whatever and quite calmly sit there pinching things off your plate.

Whether he does this to amuse himself, or he has a psychological disorder, none of the brothers have bothered to investigate. It’s just Gordon, slap his fingers as needed. Of course, Kayo doesn’t have a problem. No one would dare steal from her plate.

Well, he did try once. Most people think the scar on his hand is just one of those from the hydrofoil accident.

It isn’t.

Of course, there was the time where he ate the steak Scott and Virgil were arguing over. They didn’t realise it until a full ten minutes later, by which time Gordon was no longer in the room, taking the digesting steak with him.

Grandma got to bake him a cake for that one.

But yes, in general, food in the Tracy household is a little chaotic. There have been death threats, mild bruising, profanity, theft, slander, the occasional all out war and sometimes a whole pile of mischief. But honestly, under it all? There is a whole pile of love. Because push comes to shove, each and every Tracy, by name or not, will give their all to help another.

And that includes food.

Though Grandma’s cookies have been declared lethal weaponry and throwing one results in mandatory dish duty for a month. Gordon, for the love of everything, put that down now!

-o-o-o-

#thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds #thunderbirds fanfiction #Gordon Tracy #Scott Tracy #Virgil Tracy #John Tracy #Alan Tracy #Grandma Tracy #Sally Tracy #nuttyfic reblog

[mandoalorian]

Sugar and Spice [Maxwell Lord x Reader] - Chapter 8

Summary: When you are evicted from your apartment by your toxic ex boyfriend and have no place to go, who do you turn to? Alone in the city as the countdown to Christmas begins, you find yourself applying for a job as the assistant of the world’s biggest entrepreneur; Maxwell Lord. Little do you know, he has other intentions for you. No doubt about it, this Christmas will truly be like no other.

Word count: 2.4k

Warnings: Smut, mentions of a previous verbally abusive relationship, typical 80s misogyny (but very little of it), mentions of food and drink, alcohol consumption. This is a sugardaddy x sugarbaby fic soooo… a daddy k!nk too oops.

But in this chapter - reader confronts her abusive ex boyfriend.

Author’s note: ANGST! Mention of an abusive relationship although I've tried to gloss over it as much as I can. Sorry this chapter was a long time coming. I'm so happy that people are enjoying Sugar and Spice.

MASTERLIST

PREVIOUS - CHAPTER EIGHT - NEXT

"I think," Maxwell swallowed. "No. I know. I know that I've fallen deeply in love with you."

You swore your heart stopped at his revelation. Hand still cupping his cheek, you looked deep into his glazed, honey brown eyes and saw nothing but the truth. The man who had rounded his career on lies and greed loved you. You felt your throat dry up, searching for words but not knowing what to say. Maxwell looked at you too, his soft eyes beginning to cross in bewilderment when you didn't say a word. He wished so desperately that you'd say something, anything. The last person Maxwell Lord said 'I love you' to, was his father. You couldn't leave him hanging.

You wanted to say it back, you wanted to so desperately tell him the truth— that you loved him too, because, you did. You hadn't confronted your feelings, you hadn't realized it fully until faced with your current situation. But now everything made sense. The jealousy, the lust, the need for affection and the want to be cared for.

Fate brought you both together. Running from an abusive relationship, getting almost kicked out of your apartment, and finding yourself in the expansive office of Maxwell Lord the IV. You thought you were going for an assistant position but instead you found yourself as his sugar baby and now… now this only complicated everything.

"Max," you whispered and he closed his eyes slowly, one final year falling down his cheek. Your gaze flicked between him and the almost finished bottle of whiskey on his desk. He'd been drinking at the gala and he'd been drinking when he got home therefore it was for certain that Maxwell was not in the right state of mind at all. "Do you want to go to bed?"

"You don't love me," Maxwell tried to ask but it came out as an embarrassing croak. "Of course you don't." He regretted the words immediately after they fell from his lips. He was so sure that he had ruined everything and things would never be the same again.

What was wrong with you? No matter how much you wanted to tell him you just couldn't. "Max," he admired the way his name fell from your soft lips. You continued to smooth his hair out of his face and he hummed in contentment, his eyes still closed. "You're so sleepy. Please, let me take you to bed." you whispered and Max barely moved. You called his name one more time and he opened his eyes the slightest. You pulled him up and wrapped an arm around his body. Despite him being much bigger than you, you somehow managed to navigate the drunk and hurting man the corridor and into his master bedroom. He slumped onto his king sized bed and you gently tucked him under the blankets. He mumbled something incoherent, reaching out and making grabby fists. He wanted you.

"Lay with me," he mumbled, trying to pull you down on top of him. You wanted to but you weren't even sure if you could stay at the penthouse after his revelation. You hadn't even shared a bed with Maxwell, and now suddenly he was requesting that you lay with him?

"I have to go." you whispered, running your fingers through his hair and pushing his bangs out of his face.

"No." he mumbled, but he was already half sleep. You planted a gentle kiss on his forehead before stepping back.

You had genuine trouble trying to process what just happened and why it happened. Maxwell trusted you. He shared with you a family secret that nobody else knew, and all because he was in love with you. You were perplexed.

Before you could leave his bedroom, you were greeted with your reflection in the mirror. Your hair was a mess, your ballgown was ruined and your makeup was tear stained. You padded into Maxwell's closet and took out one of his shirts and tailored suit pants. That man desperately needed to get a pair of normal casual clothes and fast. You tried them on, not minding the way they fit your body. You could've gone all out, finding a belt or a pair of suspenders to clip onto the light grey pants, but you decided against it. You pushed your hair out of your face and padded into the en-suite to wash your face. You didn't look much better, and you figured you probably just need a good night sleep. At least this way, no one would recognise you. You were almost certain the press would still be walking the streets looking for you and Maxwell. You actually kinda liked wearing Max's clothes, although there was no doubt in your mind that they looked better on him than you.

The streets were freezing and filled with thick snow. You regretted not taking one of Maxwell's suit jackets or warm winter coats but nevertheless you shivered all the way home. Your feet were like bricks of ice by the time you got back to your apartment. As you walked up the flights of stairs, digging into your purse for your keys, you were greeted with an unwelcome visitor. Tristan.

"Maxwell Lord," he deadpanned, standing in front of your door. You paused, looking at him hesitantly. "What the fuck do you think you're playing at?" Tristan snarled.

"What do you mean?" you asked innocently.

"You were on national television!" Tristan accused. "You and him, and a bunch of other snobby business pricks. Bruce fucking Wayne too… and the president!"

You rolled your eyes. "Tristan, it's late. Please move so I can enter my apartment and go to bed." You reached out to press your key into the lock when Tristan's large hand grabbed your wrist, his fingernails digging into your skin. You winced, trying to flinch back but he wouldn't let go, and suddenly the memories came flooding back. "Tristan," you gritted out. "Fucking let me go."

"I sold your apartment." Tristan spat.

"What?" you gasped, tears filling your eyes. "But I paid rent!"

"You're fucking around with Maxwell Lord, aren't you?" He growled.

"Who I fuck around with is none of your business! Now. Let. Me. Go." you tried pulling yourself away from Tristan but his grip around you only tightened. You squealed when he slammed you into the door. "You're going to wake the neighbours." You hissed trying desperately to keep your cool. You didn't want to seem weak. You weren't weak. You had this under control.

"Let's go somewhere more private then." Tristan smirked, dragging you unwillingly to his own apartment and locking the door behind him. "Now you tell me right now what the fuck is going on between you two."

"Or what?" You snapped back. "What the hell are you gonna do?"

"Is he your boyfriend?" Tristan quizzed.

"He's a friend." you glared at him, backing away everytime he took a step bearing you.

"A friend," Tristan repeated with a scoff of disbelief. "Just like you said on television."

You wondered how much of the gala and the interview outside had been televised but now wasn't the time to ask questions. You knew Maxwell had the power to rid you of Tristan. If he knew about the awful things Tristan had done to you and the way he had hurt you… well, Tristan may as well have had a death wish.

"Jesus Christ Tristan can you just let me go home?" you sighed, rubbing your eyes tiredly.

"I knew you were struggling with rent. I knew you had been laid off from work and it's Christmas coming up… if you had just told me you were struggling I would've made a negotiation." Tristan shook his head shamefully. "But no."

"Negotiate?" you questioned in disbelief. "You're a fucking manipulator!"

"And you're a fucking whore!" Tristan screamed, towering over you, his cheeks turning bright red with rage. "You know, I really didn't think you had it in you. Fucking around with some big CEO who thinks he's a hotshot."

"And what are you supposed to be?" you exhaled shakily, tears threatening to spill from your eyes. His words stung. "Maxwell… he cares about me. You never gave a shit about me."

"You think he cares about you? You seriously think Maxwell Lord cares about anyone other than himself?" Tristan barked. "He has you wrapped around your finger. I thought you were smarter than this."

"You don't know him the way I do." you smiled bravely. Fuck, you really did love him. And you needed him now more than ever. You knew that he was just a phone call away and if you told him you were in danger he would come running to rescue you with his whole team of security. If only you had just stayed with him. If only you had just decided to lay next to him, curled up in his arms in his warm bed.

"So you are fucking him?" Tristan scrunched his nose up and looked at you with disgust. He double checked the door was locked and put his key in his pocket before walking over to his bedroom. "You can sleep on the floor like the whore you are." Tristan laughed before going into his bedroom and shutting the door.

Once he was gone, you were left standing in the middle of your ex boyfriend's apartment feeling small and helpless. You didn't know what to do or where to go. You didn't even have Maxwell's number memorised so you couldn't call him. You let the tears free fall as you glanced between the locked door and the windows that you knew you couldn't squeeze out of even if you tried. You were trapped in a place that has brought back so much fear, and you didn't know what to do. You didn't know what tomorrow would hold.

You could barely sleep, the December cold hanging over your body like an icicle. You would give anything to be in the warmth of Maxwell's penthouse. God, you'd give anything just to be with Maxwell. You needed him.

The next morning, Maxwell woke up groggy, and his butler, Kenneth, was already waiting by his bed holding a platter of French toast, cup of black coffee and a glass of water. "Good morning sir," he greeted. "Your hangover breakfast, as requested."

Maxwell rubbed his eyes and shuffled upwards in bed as Kenneth placed the silver tray on his lap. It smelled delicious but he couldn't help but wish you were there to share it with him. He imagined you laying next to him in bed, giving him sleepy kisses while Kenneth presented you with your favourite breakfast meal; waffles and berries. The perfect life.

That's when Maxwell remembered. He practically three the breakfast on the floor and dived out of bed, still in his clothes from the night before. He caught a glimpse of your gala gown in the entryway of his closet and his heart sank in his chest. The memories came flooding back. He told you he loved you, but he didn't remember you saying it back.

"Have you seen Y/N?" Maxwell asked hurriedly, trying to weigh up what time you must have left. He quickly tore open his shirt and grabbed a clean one out of the closet.

Kenneth stood there awkwardly watching his boss work up a frenzy. "Uh no sir," he replied. "So I gather you won't be eating breakfast?" Kenneth's gaze flicked from Maxwell to the mess of French toast and spilled coffee that was sure to stain the cream coloured carpet.

"Shit no, sorry Kenneth. Could you call Jeeves and have him drive me to her apartment? I have to see her." Maxwell asked as he buttoned up the top of his dress shirt.

"Right away sir, but there's something I think you must see first." Kenneth swapped out the usual business newspaper that Maxwell would read for a glossy red-top tabloid magazine.

"You know I don't read that bullshit." Maxwell sighed, quickly combing his hair and trying his best to style it into place given the stressful circumstances. He wasn't going to forget to spritz his cologne either.

"Sir…." Kenneth drew out again, flashing the cover in Maxwell's direction. Maxwell caught a glimpse of it and his heart stopped. Front page was an image of you trending through the thick snow in the dead of night wearing Maxwell's clothes. The headline was explicitly disgusting, shaming you in every way possible. Maxwell's lips parted as he drunk in your appearance and he was horrified as he read the mean words the journalists had wrote about you.

"She cannot see this. I want you to buy every copy of this god forsaken tabloid and have them all destroyed. You understand?" Maxwell ordered, slamming his black business credit card into the chest of Kenneth. "Get the rest of the house staff to help you and do it fast."

"No worries sir," Kenneth smiled. "Jeeves is waiting for you outside."

Maxwell nodded appreciatevely as he tied his shoelaces. "Thanks."

"Sir?" Kenneth asked timidly.

"Yeah?" Maxwell asked, semi breathless.

"When you're with her, I see your face light up. I see the same happiness in you that I once saw in your father." Kenneth admitted and Maxwell's heart blossomed at the comparison. "When you get her, please don't ever let her go."

Taglist (let me know if you want to be added)!

December Magic: @100layersofdaddyissues @mrschiltoncat @thisisthe-wayson @this-cat-is-dea @blonde2bomshell @maiyaaaa0130 @autumnleaves1991-blog @justanotherblonde23

Permanent: @supernaturalgirl @phoenixhalliwell @ah-callie @luvzoria @stardust-galaxies @wickedfrsgrl @goth-topic @nerdypinupcrystal @wonderfulfluffer @kiwi-the-first @pedroepascal @castiel-barnes @honeymandos @rocketqueen @ladycumberbatchofcamelot @dybalalover10 @girl-obsessed-with-things @elena-myth

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #maxwell lord #max lord #maxwell lord x reader #max lord x reader #pedro Pascal smut

[heliosthegriffin]

Gamer AU

Author’s Note: I really badly want to write a gamer!Jaune Fanfic, but getting a system to work that makes sense to me has been a bitch to deal with, and no, I don’t want to use the system from the Gamer, it’s over used. So I’ve been making my own system from the ground up. Any the story’s nowhere near ready for day light. Also, the main focus would be on Jaune and his immediate family and that drama, so pretty OC heavy. It’d also start pretty early in his life around ten or so, he also isn’t very interested in being a hunter, just making sure his family is happy and alive.

Any-who: Here’s a scene clip from my head, that’ll be better fleshed out later.

Scene: The Waterfront Cafe

Jaune hurriedly walks back and forth through the cafe, makings sure the dozen or so customers were being well cared for, while he cooks their food.

It was only midday, but he had already make a decent profit, meaning he didn’t have to work into the evening and keep the cafe open. A couple more weeks and he might have enough to permanently hired a waiter; For now though, he was soloing his way through running his sisters-... his cafe.

He shook his head and focused on the positive today. Like how he was fifteen years old and a successful business owner, well several businesses... and other things that were definitively illegal. but like Roman says “Legal is for people who don’t want to get rich.”

The thought of his friend, even if Roman would never admit it, brought a genuine smile to his face. He hoped Roman his enforcer came to visit soon. They made for good conversation, and were good tippers, even if the other one got a little grabby. Still, Roman had yet to send him a time to keep the Waterfront open for him to visit, so he’d have to keep a look out for one of his runners.

Only Jaune Arc would think so casually about having a powerful crime boss as a friend and customer, and his stab-happy murder goblin enforcer.

Also only Jaune Arc would fail to notice despite his Perception well over 70 that his genuine smile cause all who saw it to melt and turn their legs into jelly.

“First time?” “What? What do you mean? And what the hell was that!?” A customer whisper yelled.

“The Jaune Arc Smile, it has an effect on people. Beside the divine cooking, it’s one of the reason people come here.”

“... That's insane.”

“Oh, definitely. But, is that going to stop you from coming back?”

“I said that this was insane, but I didn’t say I was stupid. I haven’t felt so content in years.”

The two customers drifted off into conversation.

Jaune still failing to notice, having a professional standard of not ease-dropping on his customers.

Of course with that being the case Jaune failed to notice the two loud-mouth women who walked in and sat down at a table like they owned the place.

Neither woman was particularly attractive, or in shape, in-fact the only interesting thing about either was the fact that they both had dyed grey hair with grey contacts. With the only thing differing about the two, was the taller one was fat, and the shorter one thin.

“So, I said “what are you part of the Alpha Male Huntsmen agenda? Cause if you don’t give me that purse for free I’m going to cry rape!” Then he gave it to me and ran his little ass back to home.” The taller one said

“Oh, you are such a bad bitch!.” Replys the shorter one. “Oh, don’t I know it, so why are we here?”

“Oh, you don’t know, the food here is killer! Or, so I heard.”

“Really? It just looks like a shitty little cafe, the only thing really note is the location.”

“Yeah, I saw it while looking on the Scroll. Also, the service is great, but the thing is... It’s only run by one guy! You know what that means?” Shortys says

“Yes!”

““Free lunch!”“The a pair says together.

“When this glass of water get here!?”

“See, told you get the service was great!”

Jaune appears before the table, apron on, long golden hair in a ponytail and, notebook in hand. “Did some say service?

“Oh shit!”

“Fuck! Where did you come from?!” “Sorry Misses. I thought you two would like some service? I can give you more time if you’d like.”

The two get a full view of Jaunes features, reducing themselves into a blushing stuttering mess.

“There are you can scan the table for the menu if you like, or check the website, I’ll give you some more time.” Jaune says leaving with another pearly white smile.

Further burning out the pair’s brain cells.

A few minutes later.

“How, how can guy be so gorgeous? You said he was a guy right!?” The taller one says “Yeah, I did! All the reviews say he’s a guy!” Shortys says. “Like read this here, “The server is amazing, he always arrives on time, never pry's, but will always listen, what he cooks can only be called art and a world wonder, I am always happy to tip!”

The pair look at each other. “I thought it was reviewer bias.” “What ever, gorgeous or not, I’m getting a free meal today.” Say the fatter one.

The shorter one looks more hesitant. “I don’t know,, he looks so nice, it almost feels like a crime...”

“What do we care about crimes, when it’s the Alpha Male Huntsman Regime oppressing us!”

“... I’ll stick to paying, you do you though...” The shorter of the pair says, twirling her hair, heavily reconsidering keeping a different color.

“Whatever traitor, I’ll show you, and then you’ll see I’m right!”

“Suuure.” The shorter, and obviously smart one says disbelieving, ‘If he’s that pretty and nice, there’s no way that’s going to happen, cause either he’s way tough, or someones looking after him, otherwise this place would be out of business, with people trying to take advantage of him. ’

Half an hour later.

The larger one has several plates and cups empty before her, seemingly having everything on the menu, holding her bloated stomach in a state of ecstasy.

The shorter one only having finished a two plates, having had a club sandwich and muffin, along with the house brew, filling just the right amount of full and very content.

“Misses?” Jaune says “I hope you found everything to your liking.” His smile sweet like sugar, but warm like the spring breeze.

The shorter one blushes hard. “Uh, uh, yes” She finally squeaks out. “it was amazing...”

“’S alright, I guess” The fatter one says appearing disappointed and unimpressed.

Jaune seems a little hurt by the fatter one’s opinion, causing several other customers to look on murderously at the fat woman.

She is unfortunately oblivious to this.

Jaune lets go of the expression.” Well, my apologies miss, I’ll makes sure it’s better next time.”

‘It can get better!’ The fatty thinks.

The murderous glares grow sharper.

“I thought it was really good!” The shorter one says standing up, and then realizing how insanely tall and large Jaune is compared to her, and even her friend. His thighs being bigger than her torso, his pecs standing higher than she is and her friend. Yet he moved like the wind and with the grace of a dancer.

The large fatty snorts in disdainfully at her soon to be former friend.

“Now would you like to pay to together or separately?”

“I’m not pay-” The tall fatty begins. “Separately.” Only to be cut off by the shorter one. Who, glared at her, clearly unimpressed by her soon to be former friend.

Jaune nods and goes off to get their bills.

“The fuck was that! I was about to get us a free feel, bitch!”

“You were about to get us both kicked from the best cafe in the kingdom!”

“You, ungrateful cunt!”

“Whatever, I don’t need your approval,” She spots Jaune and walks over to take the bill, and tips him, before walking a way with an obvious skip in her step.

“Ma’am her is your bill-”

“I’m not paying.” “Come again?”

“I’m not paying you shit, you piece of garbage!” The woman says with a sneer.

Jaunes eyes narrow, he pulls up a chair and sits down staring her in the eyes.

“Why would that be ma’am, was there something not to your liking?” Jaune say his voice changing from airy, bubbly and sweet, to a deep, harsh, and cold tone. It was listening to a pop-star mixed with meowing of a kitten, and all the warmth of breezy, sunny  spring day, to a cold winter night in Mantle while listening to a murdering whisper death-core to you .

The fat grey-head shook with intense fear for all of three second before speaking again, but not without withdrawing her eyes from his own.

“I said before I’ll say it again bastard, I’m not paying you a cent, you Valiaen Huntsman supporting shitlord!”

“My father’s a huntsman, if you have a problem with them please, do keep them to yourself.”

“I’ll say whatever I want shitlord! And if you so much as touch me, I’ll scream you rape you rapist shithole!” The woman says, suddenly getting her confidence back, remembering that she’s the one with power in this situation, or so she thinks. “An if you try anything, beside letting me walk out of here without paying, I’ll make sure you never see your family again, or even better, make sure your whole Huntsman propaganda spewing familys face’s kicked from the kingdom! And guess what fuckup? I going to come back here tomorrow with my friends and your going to give us all a free-”

“Quiet.” A single word came from Jaune’s mouth, but from the way the woman closed her mouth it looked like he shut her mouth with his own two hands.

Jaune stopped holding back his overwhelming level of Personality and letting it Project forward, all 80 levels of it and his maxed out Intimidation.

The fat woman suddenly became aware of how close Jaune was to here, how big his hands are, how long and strong his arms are, he wouldn’t even need to get up to grab her neck across the table and his hands could cover her entire next with ease, it would take no effort for him to kill then and there, and that shook her.

From the corners of her eyes it was like she could she the other customer turnign way with, but not out of fear, but with intense glee! He could kill her then and there and they wouldn’t say a word, they might even help!

Jaune spoken and with it came a weight so heavy that it choked the words out of her.

“Listen here, I’m going to say this once and never again, after I finish telling you this, you will be like you never existed to me, is that clear?” Jaune said to her with a sinister, cold and happy smiles. It was like looking at an open grave with her name on it.

She nodded with all her force, and barely let out a ”Yes,” Feeling hyper-aware of Jaune and his body, easily seeing him choking her, hitting her and smashing her face in, taking a knife to her neck letting her bleed out, the phantom pain of a eye being gouged out, and near endless death Jaune could bring to her, all while listening to him.

“I was being humble earlier, but you don’t downplay my cooking, I”m the best chef without a degree in the kingdom, In a couple months I will be the best chef in the kingdom. I am the best cafe in this kingdom. I am no rapist, but even if I was why would waste my time going after, a fat, loose, stupid, boring, and painfully annoying creature as you, do you think my standard are low enough to be in the sewer, because that where I’d fine you, But, I could accept all of that abuse.” Jaune rapid-fired at her, “But,” His eyes looked at her like razors. “But, you tried to bring my family into this... And, NOBODY, AND, I MEAN NOBODY, BEING, OR, ENTITY! MESSES WITH MY FAMILY! IS THAT YELL YOU FUCKING MICROSCOPIC, WORTHLESS, VACUUM OF INTELLIGENCE, PARASITE!?” Jaune said to her calmly before yelling at her, his voice like a hurricane on steroids made of pure anger.

The woman shook before him, tearing falling freely, squeaking out in pure terror for her life. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry-” Jaune shook out another caverous roar. “BITCH! I did not ask for your worthless sorry ass to say SORRY! I ASKED IF YOU GOT IT?! WELL? DID YOU FUCKING GET IT?!”

“YES, SIR I GOT! I’M SO SORRY! PLEASE DON’T-“ The woman screamed in terror,

“THEN GET THE FUCK OUT OF HERE, YOU GOT YOUR FUCKING FREE MEAL, GET OUT OF HERE AND NEVER COME BACK, IF I SO MUCH AS SEE A HAIR OF YOU’RE FAT ASS, I”M GOING TO MAKE SURE THEY HAVE A MISSING PERSON’S WARRANT ON YOUR FAT ASS, AND YOU KNOW FUCKING WHAT? NOBODYS GOING TO CARE, NOW LEAVE!” Jaune said punctuation the last word by pounding the table with hands while screaming into the face of the woman.

She ran, she ran like her life depended on it, a trail of piss following her,  ugly crying all the way home.

Jaune then turned to his customers. “I’m sorry, about that folks,” His voice once again melodic and beautiful. “But, I’m sure that will not happen for about a month or two.” “Don’t worry we didn’t see anything.” His regulars said, with smug grins and some outright laughing or recording to put on dustube.

“Well, since y’all didn’t see anything, I say free coffee and today pie on the house!”

“WHOO!!”

Jaune then cleaned the table, and grabbed several glasses to refill, before returning the kitchen.

Returning to the two customers from earlier.

“What was that?”

“Oh that, don’t worry about that, it comes and goes, but we regulars call it free coffee and desert day.” “That’s insane... Who wouldn’t pay for this food?”

“You got a good head on you, kid.”

Jaune was in the kitchen cooking with one hand, and typing into his scroll behind his back with the other.

‘Junior, I got a favor to call in.’

Buzz.

‘The Malachite's saw everything.’

Jaune smirked evilly.

‘Good, tell them I’ll have their favorites ready when they get here... And something for you too.’

With Junior.

Junior: Happy crime boss noises.

The Next day.

The short grey hair girl arrived just as Jaune was opening.

“I am so sorry! About that I’d like to apologize for the idiots behavior.” “Oh it’s fine, I get customers like that from time to time. Now though I must say you look better without out those grey eyes. Brown suits you better.” The short hair-girl blushed heavily, having stopped using the color contacts.

“Thanks you...” “Now would like some breakfast?”

“YES!”

Authors note:Whew, that was exhausting, but I think it turned out ok.

By the way I came up for some names for the customers.

The first regulars name is Bronson

The new guy is Becker

The fat girl is Licorish

The shorter girl is Gracie

If your curioius why Jaune’s not in school and running a his sisters cafe, or where his sister is, that will all be touch on in the story.

Now here’s Jaunes Stats

Jaune Arc

15 and 1/4

Male

Strength: 68 Speed: 72

- Toughness: 6 - Grace: 7

Wits: 53     Wisdom: 82

- Calculation: 5 - Mental Fortress: 8

Personality: 80 Perception: 75

- Attraction: 8  -Sensory : 7

- Anima:390 (This option is greyed out)

- Aura Level: 3900 (this option is greyed out)

Now these are still subject to change.

He’s maxed out: Cooking, Dancing, Intimation, CQC, MMA, Valerian Boxing, Valerian Fencing, Short blade, Cleaning, Stealth, Sprinting, Climbing, Voice Manipulation, Body Control, ????? That’s all I’m listing for now, but it will only grow.

Traits:???? Heheh, watch and wait.

That’s all for now fokes. Have a beautiful day.

#Jaune Arc Appreciation #Jaune Arc #gamer!au

[pheita]

New Home New Troubles Part 22

This story has some heavy topics such as miscarriage, sudden infant death, oppression of various minorities, poltergeist-like spirits, and domestic violence.

Additional warning for mentions of bullying and child abuse.

Tagging @ashen-crest @adie-dee @abalonetea @cometworks @viskafrer @vivian-is-writing @kainablue @contes-de-rheio @writingamongther0ses

Author's note: The thing Sojan refers to at the end is the fact, that at the beginning of Lyran becoming a monster hunter, Lyran had a tendency to get horny from the adrenalin rush after fighting a big monster. And the thing with the noble was a scene from the main WIP where Lyran turned feral because a traveling noble got grabby and Lyran hit him.

After deciding to discuss everything else the next morning, Lyran was just happy to fall into bed. Niat had moved in with Arritit for the night, and Mithelia and Ylva shared the other room. The feeling that Arritit would take advantage of questioning Niat in every way Lyran had pushed away. A contented sigh escaped him as he snuggled up to Sojan and felt his arm around his torso. "Are you all right, finjat?" "Slowly again. Although maybe we should start always putting something out for the Lytesis. It seems they've fallen for your cooking." Sojan's laugh came grumpily. "What have I started," Sojan lamented in jest. "That's the evil you have to live with now." In the embrace, Lyran turned and looked at Sojan. "This is going to sound strange, but: what kind of feelings does Ylva evoke in you?" Sojan's eyebrows almost formed a line, so much did Sojan scrunch his eyebrows together. "Oddly enough, a protective instinct, even though she's as dangerous as she is cute." "So she can go on the list of dangerous women in our lives?" joked Lyran. Immediately after, he sighed again. "I feel the same way. I understand what she's been through. I know how hard it must be for her to talk about some things. Did you feel the same way about me back then?" With a smile, Sojan's head slid closer, and he kissed Lyran on the nose. "A little. I quickly realized there was more behind the facade of the flirty bard. Then when the incident with the nobleman happened..." "Don't remind me," Lyran groaned, "That wasn't a stellar performance."

"But it helped me understand some things better about you. For half of our trip, I wanted to keep you out of everything so you'd be safe. Little did I know that you would become the pivot point." "Something I could well do without..." Unconsciously, Lyran rubbed the scars on his arms that he had borne from that time. Sojan brushed a strand from his face and let his hand rest on the back of Lyran's neck. "You feel connected to her because you went through similar things, right?" "I think so. She had even less of her parents than I did. I think Mithelia was the first person who was sympathetic to her."

Sojan's amused snort irritated Lyran. He put an arm around Sojan and his forehead against Sojan's. "What's so funny?" "Could it be that she has piqued your interest?" "She had that days ago. You should see how gracefully she disappears into crowds." "And then there's the point that she's apparently been spying on us for weeks for Mithelia, we never noticed her, but she, apparently ... how do I put it?" The way Sojan stopped was well known to Lyran. Sojan really didn't know how to say it just now. "She overheard more than anyone could have expected, and she has to satisfy her curiosity?" "That's one way to put it." For a moment, they both laughed. The silence that followed was comfortable. Sojan hugged Lyran as close as she could and kissed him again. "This is also something we can worry about tomorrow. Maybe we should go armed into the talks." The half-joking comment made Lyran laugh. "Do you think that's a good idea?" Doubtingly, Sojan looked at him. "I know what happens to you then. I correct, I go armed into the conversations, you hold your feet still." "You really do not allow me to have any fun either." "No, I want you to stay alive." Lyran nodded slightly and closed his eyes. It wasn't long before he was already half asleep. So on the cusp of sleep, his mind went over the whole day again until he finally fell asleep safely in Sojan's arms.

#writblr #writing #sojan #halloween special #part 22 #mlm #poly triad #fantasy

[brezchez]

24 hours in Snowchester

TW: Blood mention, implied death, manipulation, angst

Word count: 1976

A/N:

My first Dream SMP fanfic! And of course, it had to angst. I’m sorryyyyy /hj 

Just some side notes - I am not shipping Tubbo and Ranboo, this is strictly platonic and these are based on their characters and roleplay, not the actual people. That being said, I hope you enjoy the story!

:)

~ Bre

----------

The wind was cold but the atmosphere was warm as Ranboo walked with Michael through the Snowchester forest. He held his young piglin son in his arms as the snow gently fell around them and ultimately rested on the ground; each snowflake joining its brothers and sisters to create one large snowy family across the fields.

Michael looked eagerly at the winter wonderland around him and stuck out his tongue occasionally to try and catch the floating snowflakes. Each time he was successful, he smiled triumphantly and bounced in his father’s arms, making Ranboo chuckle at his son’s giddy actions.

At one point during their walk, Michael - being the mischievous little child he was - grabbed a branch within his reach and pulled on it, causing the snow that once rested on it to come crashing down; most of it falling on Ranboo’s head.

The enderman froze, in shock from the sudden cold feeling, and disbelief that his son would do such a cruel thing to him. Calmly, he set Michael down, his son cautiously watching him as he did so, shook the snow out of his hair, wiped some off his crown, placed it back on his head, and slowly looked down at the young piglin.

Seeing the lack of emotion in his father’s eyes, Michael began to quiver slightly, not used to how unanimated he was being. Sensing the slight fear emanating from him, Ranboo smiled impishly, effectively calming Michael when he realised that his father was only joking, then suddenly jolted forward, causing the piglin child to dash off; his enderman father in pursuit not far behind.

Their playful laughs echoed across the biome, ricocheting off the air as Ranboo followed Michael, and chased him into a clearing. The open field was a nice contrast to the dense forest they were in earlier as the two now had more space to play around as father and son. Eventually, Ranboo caught up to Michael and captured him in his firm arms.

“Aha! Gotcha!” he growled playfully, tickling his son without mercy. Laughter spilled out from his mouth like water overflowing from a bucket as Michael’s giggles filled his ears.

Ranboo realised, as he laughed with his son, that such a joyful moment would never be experienced again and he made a mental note to cherish every second of it, and to treasure the memory more than any other he still had. It was just a shame that Tubbo wasn’t there to-

“I’m surprised. You actually brought him outside.” Speak of the devil. Ranboo recognised the voice instantly, and looked up to find his husband to his left, smiling at the chaotic scene.

“I figured it was time to finally let this little mischief out the house, at least for a little while,” Ranboo replied, releasing Michael from his relentless tickle attacks and picking him back up in his arms.

“Dada!” Michael said excitedly upon seeing his other dad, reaching out and making grabby hands at him. Ranboo noticed his actions and gently handed him over to Tubbo, who took him unhesitantly. The enderman smiled at Tubbo cradling their son and smiled at how gentle he was with him. Seeing Tubbo’s usual hyperactive personality switch around Michael always amused him.

Michael then pointed forwards; Tubbo got a hunch at what it meant.

“Do you have something you want to show me?” he asked the young piglin, who nodded in response. Carefully, Tubbo set him down. “Okay then, lead the way,” he said in a gentle voice, gesturing ahead. Michael grabbed his dad’s hand and pulled him forward, surprising Tubbo as he chuckled slightly at the child’s firm grip.

Ranboo watched them go as they walked off, not too far so that they disappeared out of his sight, but far enough that he couldn’t hear their conversation. He sighed contently, looking around at his setting and smiling at the calmness of it all. Holding out a hand, Ranboo caught some snowflakes on his hand, ignoring the tiny tiny stings of the water melting from the ice on his skin.

It wasn’t snowing a lot that day, and snow didn’t necessarily hurt him all that much. However, there was still a small feeling on his enderman skin whenever it made contact with him because of the frozen water.

He glanced to the ground and caught sight of a number of snowdrops peeking out from above the snow. He half-smiled and sat down crossing his legs and picked a few of them, an idea forming in his head as he started to link them together.

During his first few days on the server, after she had given him a tour around the place, Niki had given Ranboo a few lessons on how to create flower crowns. Of course, he struggled a great deal on his first attempts, but slowly he got the hang of it and was an “absolute natural” so to speak in Niki’s words. Though it was quite obviously not true and she was just being too kind for her own good because he broke the stems and links a lot more than he probably should have.

Still, she was patient with him and eventually they got it right. Ranboo smiled sadly at the bittersweet memory as he linked each flower stalk with another until finally they came to a full circle, or crown as it would be properly called.

“Papa!” Ranboo then looked up to see Michael running up to him.

“Hey Michael!” he said, hugging him tightly as he held the flower crown in his other hand, and when they pulled away, he showed it to him.

Well, he was going to, but was stopped when his son offered him his own first. “Dad helped me make this!” he exclaimed excitedly, evidently proud of his work.

“I didn’t know you could make flower crowns,” Ranboo said, tilting his head at Tubbo as he approached them and shrugged.

“I didn’t know you could either,” Tubbo replied with a smile. Ranboo then looked back to his son, who started to reach up to - Ranboo assumed - place the crown on his head. He took off his gold crown and leant down further for him, then grinned when Michael victoriously put it on.

The piglin child clapped his hands and giggled, looking to both his parents happily..

“Thank you oh so very much Michael,” Ranboo said gratefully, taking his son and cradling him in his arms.

“I have some more stuff I need to do first, but I’ll join you guys as soon as I can,” said Tubbo as he started to walk away. But before he left, he quickly said a separate goodbye to Michael. “But if I don’t see you later, I promise to see soon,” he said cheerfully, hugging Michael when he lunged into his arms.

“Bye bye dada!” Michael waved innocently and Tubbo grinned.

“See ya later Ranboo!” Tubbo called as he ran off and then there were two.

“Well,” Ranboo began when Tubbo was no longer in sight and placed Michael in his lap, “I have a little something for you too…”

At this, Michael’s ear perked up in interest and Ranboo couldn’t help but chuckle quietly at the small gesture. Then, he revealed his own flower crown for his son from behind his back.

“Tada!”

Eagerly, the piglin child took it and beamed. “They’re the same flowers!” he pointed out excitedly and Ranboo nodded in response.

“Indeed they are!”

Michael put the crown on his head. “Now we’re matching Papa!”

“Now we’re matching Papa…”

We’re matching…

We were matching…

“Oh, you two were matching” a sly, menacing voice said from behind the weeping enderman. Ranboo sobbed uncontrollably as he held the small flower crown he had made 24 hours earlier. The tears fell like waterfalls, relentless and endless, but Ranboo didn’t care about the immense pain on his cheeks and the salty water that fell onto his bloodstained clothes. 

He didn’t care about the unbearable sting on his skin. None of it was comparable to the gut-wrenching, regrettable feeling he had inside in that moment, as the snowdrops’ pearly white bloodstained petals rested between his palms still attached to their stems.

“Why…” Ranboo whispered painfully. “I said I’d never hurt him.”

“We all say a lot of things Ranboo. And we think that we mean them, we really do. When truthfully, we don’t, and in actual fact we’re never certain if we’re ever able to keep our word. Try as we might, some promises just can’t be kept.” Dream leaned in closer to his ear. “You should know that by now,” he taunted.

Suddenly Ranboo lunged at him, aiming for the madman’s throat, but Dream, expecting it, easily dodged out the way and knocked him to the floor once more. Groaning in pain, the enderman clutched his stomach.

“Why? What did I ever do to you?” he asked desperately, genuinely wanting an answer.

“Oh, nothing really,” Dream replied casually. Shocked and angry at how calm he was, Ranboo tried to argue, but no sound escaped his mouth. “It’s Tubbo who I want revenge on.”

“Tubbo?”

“Mhm. He was always such a nuisance back in the early days. I’m simply returning the favour.”

Of course, Ranboo didn’t know exactly what Dream was talking about, because he had only heard stories from others about the great disc war on the server and L’manburg and basically everything that had happened before him. Tubbo had given him a few details about those times every now and then, but he had never been fully debriefed about the entire situation. But then saying that, he would never really know all the details because he was never there.

“Okay maybe Tubbo may have been annoying but-”

“Annoying? Annoying??” Dream growled through gritted teeth, holding the sword still thick with blood up to Ranboo’s neck. “Ranboo, Ranboo, Ranboo. You don’t even know.”

Ranboo should have been intimidated, but he was much too focused on the blood dripping from the blade. Knowing whose it was and having it brought so close to his face only made his gut twist in indescribable pain and he wanted nothing more than to simply scream it all out.

Begrudgingly, Dream lowered the sword, though Ranboo could see that he wanted nothing more than to slide his head clean off there and then. But the enderman was too useful to him.

“Well if you wanted to get to Tubbo… why drag me into it?” Ranboo questioned, though not an ounce of fear could be found in his tone; only rage.

“I didn’t mean to. And in all honestly I didn’t want to. You were just in the way. I tried to ignore you and cast you aside but you were always just there. And when I realised that I wouldn’t be able to get rid of you, I decided not to throw you away like trash, because that’s not what you are,” Dream said evilly and in a manner that proved too heartless to be human. He knelt down to where Ranboo leaned against the wall. “So I reused you.”

Ranboo held his stare menacingly, anger blazing like an uncontrollable fire in his eye. But Dream merely smirked amusingly and got up.

“You’ll want this back,” he sneered as he dropped the unclean netherite sword, Ranboo staring as the blood on it splattered on the floor and a few drops landed on Dream’s spotless clothes and hands.

“If anything you should be thanking me,” he said as he put his mask back on. “I’ve been sparing your life for way too long.”

“I’d rather be dead,” Ranboo spat.

As he opened the door and began to step out, Dream turned back to him and smirked slyly.

“Don’t we all.” And closed it, leaving the enderman alone, with only a corpse and a flower crown to accompany him.

#mcyt #dream smp #dsmp #ranboo #ranboo dream smp #tubbo #tubbo dream smp #michael dream smp #fanfic #angst #cw blood #cw manipulation #cw death #brewrites

[mybunnyparadenme]

(This is my edgy blog btw) Ship: bunny duh Prompts: 3, 11, and 12 I couldn’t choose so you can pick one if you don’t want to do them all!

Sorry it took me so long! I managed to combine all three prompts and here’s the result! Hope you like it~

#2 Things you said too quietly/#11 Things you said when you were drunk/#12 things you said when you thought i was asleep

Kenny couldn't think of a better way to spend a Friday night. He and Butters were hanging out in Butters' bedroom, listening to sugary sweet pop music and drinking McDonald's iced coffees that Kenny had picked up on the way over. They weren't drinking just any iced coffee though. Butters had nicked a bottle of Kahlua from his parent's liquor cabinet, and the two of them had been adding it into their coffees all night. Kenny already had a good buzz going, and Butters had just gone past that judging by how loud he was talking.

"You can't hog it all, Ken!" Butters pouted, reaching for the bottle with grabby hands. "Give it here!"

"Dude you've had more than me by now." Kenny said, laughing when Butters pouted even harder. He handed it over easily though, Butters deserved a night to let as loose as he wanted.

Instead of pouring more into his drink, Butters brought it straight to his lips and swallowed down several mouthfuls before he pulled it back with a grimace. "Oh that's strong!"

"You should've mixed it with your coffee!"

"It's pretty much all Kahlua at this point." Butters said, swishing around the contents in his half empty cup. It was much darker now than when Kenny had presented it to him. He looked up and gave Kenny a wild grin. "Besides, I can handle it. Waterin' it down is for pussies!

Kenny laughed again, the full kind of laugh that only happened when you were drunk enough that every little thing became the funniest thing you ever heard. He was so glad Stephen and Linda were going to be gone until tomorrow afternoon. The two of them could enjoy this time without having to worry about getting caught with pilfered liquor. Speaking of being caught though... "Okay, so how grounded do you think you'd be if your parents walked in right now?"

"Um." Butters paused, looking worried for a split second downing the remainder of his drink. He shook his head and raised his fist in the air with a shout, "I don't know and I don't care! You're looking at a guy who doesn't give a fuck about getting grounded!"

"Holy shit, drunk you is a badass." Kenny said, a slow smile forming on his face. He felt more attracted to Butters in this moment than he ever had before, but then again being attracted to Butters wasn't really new to him. Still, he couldn't deny Butters saying he didn't care about getting grounded was really fucking hot. He grabbed the bottle of Kahlua, hoping a strong shot would clear his thoughts, and found that it was almost empty. "Damn, we almost finished the whole thing, Butters. We're gonna have to fill it up with something before your folks come back."

"Do we have to?" Butters asked, his eyebrows furrowing together. "They get enough from me already, fuck them and fuck their booze!"

"Hell yeah, fuck those tyrants!" Kenny said, but mentally he told himself to brew some coffee and vodka together later. As much as he loved this new side of Butters, there was no way he was letting Butters get grounded into oblivion over one night of fun.

"And if they try anything we could run away together!" Butters said, looking excited now. His eyes were bright and dreamy. "That would really show 'em. Ooh, we could really piss them off and leave a note sayin' we went to Vegas and are getting married!"

"Huh?!" Kenny had been about to tip the rest of his iced coffee into his mouth, but hearing that last bit shocked him so much he ended up spilling it all over his sweater.

Like a light switch flicking off, Butters' bravado fell away into concern. "Oh no, I'm sorry for getting so carried away and startlin' you Kenny! We gotta get that sweater in the wash before the stain sets in."

"It's... it's not that bad." Kenny murmured, hoping the heat rising to his cheeks looked more like a drunken flush. "I can just rinse it off in the sink when I go home."

"And catch your death of cold? Uh-uh, we're getting that cleaned right away. Give it here." Butters leaned over and started to lift it off of Kenny's body.

It took his alcohol addled brain a minute to realize that Butters was actually undressing him right now. Kenny couldn't help the long 'nice' that went through his mind as the sweater went over his head, but immediately afterwards their eyes locked and the full awkwardness of the situation finally hit them. Kenny's arms were over his head and tangled up in his sweater's sleeves, Butters' nose an inch away from his. He was close enough to a kiss...

"Oh sweet Mary." Butters breathed as he pulled back, his cheeks blazing. "I-I'm sorry, I shouldn't've done that."

"No big deal!" Kenny quickly reassured him, his heart was slamming against his ribcage. He slipped his sweater the rest of the way off and held it out in front of him, keeping his eyes locked on the ground. "Here."

"Thank you!" Butters squeaked, standing up way too fast. He swayed on his feet, but managed to stay upright. "Y-You can go ahead and grab one of my shirts while I get this washed okay?"

"Okay, I will. Thanks." Kenny said, standing up awkwardly. He felt so exposed without his sweater, goosebumps rising all over his arms. He could feel Butters eyes on him even without looking up.

"I'll be back soon!" Butters said before bolting out of the room.

Kenny let himself wallow in embarrassment for a few seconds, but then the cold got to him and he made his way over to the dresser on the other side of the room. He picked the first long-sleeved shirt on, a pale green one that smelled like citrus detergent. His heart skipped a beat when he recognized it as the scent that always seemed to cling to Butters' skin. He brought the sleeve up to his nose and inhaled deeply, then buried his face in his hands when he realized what he was doing. The alcohol, he blamed this on the alcohol.

A few minutes later Butters came back into the room, still looking a little flustered. "O-Okay, it'll be ready in a little while."

"Cool." Kenny said from his spot on the bed. The tension was still thick between them, and it was high time they brought the mood back to what it was before. He put on an exaggerated grin and casually asked, "So what'd you think of my tiddies? They were pretty great right?"

"Oh my god!" Butters giggled, all of his nervousness fading away as he laughed. He let himself sink onto the bed next to Kenny, their shoulders brushing casually. "My honest opinion? They were a little flat for my tastes.

"You wound me, Butters." Kenny sighed, placing a hand over his heart dramatically.

"But I thought your freckles were neat. I never realized these were an all-over thing." Butters said, tapping the tip of Kenny's nose.

"Yeah, they... they're usually hidden underneath my clothes." Kenny said, his heart leaping at that easy touch. He hoped it wasn't just the Kahlua making him do that.

"You should show them off more often." Butters smiled at him. He said the next part softly, almost too low to hear. "They're really cute on you."

Cute? Butters thought he was cute? Kenny chewed the inside of his cheek, fighting back the smile that was threatening to give away how happy hearing that made him. Holy shit, Butters Stotch thought he was cute!

"I feel like dancin', don't you Ken?" Butters asked, as he rose to his feet again. He moved over to his nightstand where his phone was still playing pop songs. "Pick something fun for us to dance to!"

"Uhhhh, play some Katy Perry!" Kenny blurted out as he stood up too. "The earlier the better!"

"Got it!"

A minute later the two of them were belting out lyrics about getting hitched in Vegas, laughing and jumping around so much that Kenny was sure the floor was going to collapse underneath them. The room was spinning and the Kahlua and coffee mixture was sloshing around in his stomach, but Kenny felt better than he had in a while just being here with Butters. He always felt better when they were together.

They danced for half a dozen songs, shouting gibberish when they forgot the lyrics or just plain didn't know them in the first place. They were out of breath by the time they shut the music off and fell onto the bed in a tangle of limbs, giggling from both exhaustion and the alcohol still coursing through their bodies. Butters had a smile so wide his cheeks had to hurt.

"That was a lot of fun, Kenny." Butters said, reaching up to brush Kenny's hair from his sweaty forehead. His eyes were shining. "Thanks for coming over today."

"Thanks for inviting me." Kenny said, leaning into the touch with a sigh. "Hanging out with you is the best."

"Yeah?" Butters closed his eyes, a sleepy smile forming on his face. "I feel the same. You're my best friend, you know."

Had he known that? Kenny thought back to all the time they spent together, just the two of them. They were close definitely but... best friends? God that was freaking profound. Was that just the alcohol talking? Would Butters even remember saying it in the morning? God he wanted Butters to remember this.

"Butters do you-" He started, only to cut himself off when he saw that Butters' eyes were closed, his breathing even like he was fast asleep. He reached up and waved his hand in front of his face, holding his breath until Butters' eyes fluttered open.

"Mm? What is it, Ken?" Butters murmured, his eyes soft with slowly fading consciousness.

"You meant it right?" Kenny swallowed down the nervousness from earlier that threatened to steal his words away. God his eyes were the palest shade of blue. He wanted to tell Butters how beautiful they looked.

It was silent for a moment, long enough for Kenny to worry that Butters had fallen asleep with his eyes open, but then he reached up and patted his cheek softly. "'Course I meant it. You're my sunshine guy."

Kenny wanted to melt into this moment. Butters' fingers were warm on his heated face, and surprisingly rough with callouses. Probably from all the chores his parents had him do, but it was comforting all the same. Butters eyes drifted shut, and without the eye contact Kenny felt brave enough to reach up and place his own hand on top of his. He could feel his whole body relax as this quiet moment stretched on, and sleep started to overtake his consciousness. Just before he drifted off, he let himself murmur, "You're my best friend too Butters... light of my life. I love you so much."

He was asleep before he could hear the soft gasp that followed his confession.

#south park #sp bunny #bunny sp #butters stotch #kenny mccormick #my fics #south park fic #answered #promptfic

[enchantingexile]

Boyfriend - c.b

Request: Not even slightly

Pairing: Colby Brock x Reader

Words: 995

Note: This is partially based on the Ariana Grande song boyfriend but mainly the music video. Not smut but a little bit of hanky panky. This is kind of a different style of writing for me so hopefully you like it.

-- -- -- -- -- -- 

The night felt like it had been dragging on forever but really it had only started for you 2 hours ago, Colby and you had been invited to a party tonight and youse decided that it would be more fun than anything else you had planned for the night.

Colby had ended up ditching you for the first girl that had shown him any interest and even though he wasn’t your boyfriend and you had told everyone that you didn’t want to be with him. You knew you were lying and so did Colby, so he did everything he could to try and make you jealous and it was clearly working when he caught you sending death glares towards the woman he was leaning over near the wall, not that he cared much for her. 

You were his main interest and he couldn’t let you out of his sight and his heart raced every time you were near but he didn’t want to come out and just say it to you because what if you rejected him? He would not be able to handle that, not from you so he chose the more mature way of handling the situation obviously, trying to make you jealous. 

“Do you want to get out of here?” The girl says in the sexiest voice she can muster up but Colby is too busy checking on you to see if you are paying attention to him but to his dismay, you are across the room talking to some dude who looks like he just walked out of the model factory and now it was his turn to be jealous.

Before he could even think about what he was doing he was walking over to you and pulling you away from the gorgeous man standing in front of you. His hand clasps around your wrist, not too tight but tight enough that you know he is mad about something. 

“What is your problem, Brock?” You ask as he’s pulling you into the closest bathroom of this random persons house, you didn’t know what you had done wrong because you had been watching him all night flirt with someone and he looked quite content 5 minutes ago. 

“Did you just ask me what my problem was?” You nod in response while rolling your eyes, the tone of his voice laced with annoyance yet all you could focus on was his hand that had worked its way down to hold yours. You didn’t want to look at where your hands had connected just in case he was to pull away so instead you embraced the feeling of his hand in yours and his eyes on you. 

“My problem is you” His voice is much softer now as he takes a seat on the floor leaning against the bathroom door, he reached out his arms and made grabby hands for you to come closer to him, once you had reached your hand out towards him he was pulling you to sit on top of his lap.

“Why? What have I done?” You ask him as you wrap your arms around his neck and lightly grind down on his waist which elicited a gorgeous moan to leave his lips getting trapped in your shoulder. 

“You were talking to that model guy and not me” His hands were on your waist trying to stop you from moving, thinking that you were just trying to get comfortable.

“What's your point you ain't my boyfriend,” You tell him as you grind down on him harder, his fingers pressing into you harder to try and stop your movement. He didn’t want to fuck you for the first time in the bathroom of some randoms house whilst a party is going on in the background, but it was becoming so hard for him not to take you right here and now. 

“My problem is that you ain't my girlfriend” His groans come out louder in the crevis of your shoulder, all you could do was laugh.

“And what are you gonna do about that?” You stopped your grinding to reach down and palm his bulge right before getting off his lap to walk out of the bathroom and back into the party. His problem was prominent in his pants so he was fast to follow you and grab your waist pulling you close to him to cover the situation in his pants. 

“You think you can just walk away after doing something like that, babygirl?” His bulge is prominent against your backside as a low growl comes out once you press up against him pretending to grind to the music that was playing. 

Just when you thought that you could finally leave this dull party you see the man you had been talking to and the lady that Colby had been talking to walk towards youse and even though you didn't think it was possible Colby pulls you closer into him wrapping his arms around your waist to try and hide his problem. 

“Behave, ma,” He says into your hair.

“Hey Colby, are we getting out of here?” The girl asks him, clearly eyeing you and the way his hands were around your waist. All you have to do is move your ass a little and Colby groans into your hair.

“What did I just say?” He scolds you and holds you in your place, firmly against him. “Don’t you dare move”

“Y/N” The guy from earlier had finally reached youse and was smiling like a lovesick puppy. “Do you want to dance?” His voice is so happy and tempting but you had all you wanted right behind you. 

“I was just about to go home actually and I was just about to take Colby home too,” You tell them both as you pull Colby along behind you to exit the party.

“You’re a brat you know that” 

“I know,” You laugh, pulling him faster. “But I’m your brat now”

— — — —

If you liked this a nice comment is always appreciated

masterlist

#colby brock #sam and colby #colby brock imagine #colby brock x reader

[ask-dan]

((Mod. Post the fic.

((Alright okay.  If you don’t know about the band Ghost, you’re gonna need some context here.  They’re basically a satanic church metal band of sorts (so expect satanic references n shit) who’s lead singer is like the satan pope, also called a Papa.  Dan has hots for Papa III, which Tord takes advantage of.  Also content warning for choking))

“What do you think, look accurate enough?” Tord asks, standing before Dan in the living room, dressed to the nines in Papal robes with gloves and face paint modeled after Papa Emeritus III.  “I know it’s not Halloween just yet, but it doesn’t hurt to practice the makeup and make sure everything fits.”

Dan looks up from his GameBoy to see what Tord’s referring to, but once he lays his eyes upon Tord’s wardrobe, he’s speechless.  Something deep within him clicks on and sends a blush to break out across his face.

“U-Um.  It uh, it looks great-”  He manages to say after a bit of hesitation.  His blush and struggle to speak immediately piques Tord’s interest, so he steps forward towards him slowly to see how he’d react, getting close enough for their shoes to touch.

“You sure?  I don’t think the face paint is clean enough, why not get a closer look?” He bends down so his face is a mere inch away from Dan’s.  He watches as Dan’s face only gets redder, his breathing quickening a bit as well.

“Nope, l-looks good to me-!”  He tries to back away, but is only able to go so far before the couch stops him.

“Aww, what’s the matter?”  Tord smirks, about to lay the ultimate trap card.  “Afraid of upsetting your Papa?”  

Dan shudders at Tord’s choice of words.  His legs shift as he tries to push back, but he’s trapped.  He knows Tord is aware of his effect on him, but he doesn’t stop.  “No worries my little ghoul-” he begins closing the already small gap between them, “-I know what you want.”

He rests his hand on Dan’s cheek and closes his eyes as their lips meet.  Dan goes to put his hand on Tord, but he’s stopped.

“Ah ah my little ghoul, let your Papa handle this.”  He gently pushes Dan’s hand away and continues the kiss.  This position is killing his back though, so he pulls away and takes his place on the couch next to Dan.  “Come, sit on your Papa’s lap.”  He smiles and pats his lap to further entice Dan, though it wasn’t entirely necessary as he was gonna go regardless.

Now nestled in his Papa’s lap with their legs perpendicular to each other, Dan looks sheepishly to Tord, who could not look more smug if he tried.  Tord pulls him back in for another kiss, resting one gloved hand on his back and letting the other explore Dan’s legs.  He runs his fingertips over the inseam of his pants, gently pressing them in a few times the further up his thigh he reaches.  He can feel Dan begin to tense up and shift a bit as he continues, getting the impression that he’d like to go a bit further.

Taking mercy on the poor soul, Tord moves Dan to where he’s laying on the couch in front of him.  He undoes the button and zipper on Dan’s pants and pulls them down just enough to where he can get at Dan’s underwear.  He slides them down as well and begins to rub his outer lips just a bit before sliding his middle finger up and down through Dan’s slit.  He can’t feel anything through his glove, but he can tell how eager Dan is just by looking at him.  He continues this for a good minute, getting Dan panting and quietly moaning already.  Once he feels he’s had enough, he very slowly pushes his finger tip into Dan’s entrance, watching him shift and squirm and seeing his face heat up further as he makes eye contact with Tord.  His eyes seem pleading as if he’s begging for more.   Tord obliges and inserts the rest of his finger into Dan, getting knuckle deep.  Dan bites his lip, trying to stay relatively quiet, but that’s not what Tord wants to see.

“It’s okay my ghoul, sing for your Papa, let our Father in Hell hear your beautiful voice.”

Dan nods at his request, taking a shaky breath and parting his lips to allow whatever sounds may come out.  Pleased with his obedience, Tord continues prepping Dan.  He slowly slides his finger in and out of him with long, slow strokes.  Dan is much more vocal now, which Tord absolutely adores hearing.  His pants and gasps fill the air and only get louder as he picks up the pace, his slow strokes becoming faster and less steady.  Dan’s starting to tense up more, feeling himself ready to burst, but before he can Tord removes his finger.  

“Noo…” Dan whines, but Tord only shushes him.

“Patience, my ghoul, patience.  Trust your Papa knows what he’s doing.”  

He pulls Dan’s pants and underwear the rest of the way off of him before he undoes enough of his own costume to pop his dick out.  He pushes Dan’s legs apart just a bit more before sliding into him as far as he can.  Dan makes a half gasp-moan in response, not expecting him to be that long.  Although since he’s not as wide as Tom is, it doesn’t take as much time for Dan to give the okay for him to go.  Tord slowly and methodically times his thrusts into Dan, gradually building up speed.  Dan, having already been on the brink of climax, is getting closer to his finish a lot faster than Tord is.  But as he mentioned, he knows what he’s doing.  Going based on how loud Dan’s moans are, Tord waits until Dan’s almost there before stopping all movement.

“Fuck- Papa, please!”  He stares pleadingly at Tord, 

“Please what, my ghoul?”  He returns Dan’s desperate plea with his own sarcasm

“Keep going..” Dan mutters, making a vague grabby motion with his hands.

“I’m afraid I can’t do that.  We must cum together for Lucifer’s son, but I’m not nearly close enough.”  Tord says only a little patronizingly.  “I could keep teasing you until I finally get there, but we’d have to start and stop so many times.  How’s about instead...:”  He reaches down and pulls Dan into a sitting position by the neck of his hoodie.  “...you help me out here?”  

Dan looks up at Tord, but there’s no sympathy in his eyes.  He knows what he must do.  He takes Tord’s dick into his mouth a bit hesitantly, but before he can do much, Tord takes control.  He pulls Dan’s hair tight in his fist and shoves himself down into Dan’s throat.  Dan gags and sputters, but Tord doesn’t take notice.  The sound of him helplessly choking on his cock as he fucks his throat is too enticing for him to stop.  Dan has a death grip on Tord’s legs, trying to signal him to slow down, but as he continues, Dan’s grip lightens.  The lack of oxygen makes him weaker, which is just perfect for his Papa.  He continues facefucking him until he can tell he’s about to pass out.  At just the right time, Tord pushes Dan off, allowing him to fall back on the couch.  He coughs and gasps for air, unable to get it in fast enough.  Taking advantage of his opportunity though, Tord inserts himself back into Dan and pounds into him with reckless abandon.  Dan tries to scream, but he can’t catch his breath long enough to do it.  A silent wheeze is all that’s heard from Dan as he reaches the strongest orgasm he’s ever felt in his life.  Tord follows soon after, filling his little ghoul with copious amounts of his seed.  

They both remain almost motionless, save for their panting.  It takes a good minute or so for them to come down from their respective highs and a little longer for Dan to catch his breath, but once they can both speak, they share a look

“How was that my dear?” Tord smiles lovingly at Dan, proud of how good of a sport he was during all of that.

“Good…” is all Dan can manage at the moment.  Tord pulls out of Dan, spilling his cum onto the couch cushion under them.  Tord makes a note to clean that up later before going to pick up Dan.

“C’mon Dan, let’s get you in the shower.”

#ad ask #ad dan #ad tord #ad writing #ad polydan #aubdawgdrawz

[gumnut-logic]

Food, Tracy Style

Was feeling a bit down due to work. So I picked up today’s Fluffember prompt and let my fingers run with it. This is what happened. I hope you enjoy.

Fluffember Prompt #12 - Food.

-o-o-o-

Food in the Tracy household is a fugitive thing.

It has been known to appear and disappear in the blink of an eye. It has been known to be squirrelled away as if a billionaire or six may suddenly run into famine. It has been known to be spooned gently into a sick family member.

It has been known to be wrapped in decorative paper and handed over as gifts.

Yes, food is very popular in the Tracy household.

Well, all the food that wasn’t cooked by Grandma that is.

Why does Grandma continues to cook ghastly concoctions even though everyone in the building, including the many appropriately positioned pot plants, knows that it is a major failing on her part? Only Grandma knows.

Virgil suspects it is simply out of love and a need to show how much she truly cares.

Alan secretly suspects it is a long term plan to summon a demon.

In any case, it is highly recommended to all guests that their grandmother’s cooking be avoided.

Or exorcised, according to Alan.

Each of the boys has their favourite foods of course and each their own quirks at consuming them.

Scott is efficient. That is the only word that can really be applied. He’s a busy man. Food is necessary. It gets eaten. His tastes are simple and easy. It’s food, he’s hungry, get out of my way, Gordon.

He can knock some eggs up, a good sandwich...don’t let him near the barbecue unless you desire charcoal for your meal. Seared steak apparently comes in shades of black.

Virgil, on the other hand, loves a good meal. Sure, he’s a busy man too, but there is a lot of him needing feeding and he has been known to take those few extra minutes over a meal just to enjoy it. A snooze afterwards never hurts. Digestion is something one’s body should enjoy.

Never get between Virgil and his meal. You may be bulldozed. Politely bulldozed, but flattened nonetheless. He’s a busy man. This is his time with his food, don’t interrupt, Gordon, shut up.

Virgil can cook. As long as it is steak.

There have been wars fought over the barbecue between the two eldest brothers.

Do not touch Virgil’s steak.

Particularly if you are Scott.

John appreciates a fine meal. Of the five brothers, he is the one who will know about the wine. He’ll know which region it came from, what it should be eaten with and which year grew the plant it was made from. This, of course, means he is the most likely culprit to steal Scott’s boutique beers out of the fridge...to the point that one of the first signs of the middle brother being back on Earth is the sudden missing bottles from said refrigerator.

Virgil thinks it is hilarious.

Scott’s worried his brother is a secret alcoholic and keeps monitoring his intake.

Alan keeps messing with Scott’s head by pinching extra bottles to ‘up John’s intake’.

Gordon messes with everyone by refilling the bottles with apple juice.

But yes, John is the one to appreciate a good meal, most likely because he has to eat all that space crap eighty percent of the time.

Virgil likes to make sure his brother gets a treat from time to time.

So John gets gifted lots of steak.

Alan is fed and watered regularly. With four older brothers, a sister and a grandmother, it is not like he has any choice. The appropriate quantities of vegetables and fruit are provided daily and his consumption noted. Any diversion from the menu is queried thoroughly and a health assessment performed, usually by a pair of stern blue eyes that take their responsibility ever so seriously.

Too bad those eyes have yet to work out that quite a bit of that food is delivered to the two pet hamsters he has stashed in his room. Also Buddy and Ellie consume a diet not recommended by any vet on Planet Earth.

Buddy and Ellie have been eyeing the hamsters for quite some time and are happy Alan is fattening them up.

The hamsters agree with Alan regarding Grandma’s cooking and often mistake Gordon for the demon she is apparently attempting to summon.

Alan doesn’t mind his diet too much. He knows his brothers just love him to death and the feeling is mutual. Plus Kayo slips him junk food on a regular basis. How she got hot churros to the Island still hot, he has yet to work out...Shadow is fast, but really?

As for Kayo, she eats what she wants to eat. No one is going to argue with her. Hey, you want the last pancake, be my guest, here have the maple syrup. After all, she did get her nickname from the big blowout of 2049. One cupcake, five skittle brothers and a very hungry young female bowling ball. Hey, you try growing up in a house full of men and boys. It is either kick ass or have yours handed to you. Gordon, touch that and you die.

Don’t mess with Kayo. Regarding food, or any topic for that matter. Just don’t mess with her. Take her name as a warning and stand back.

No one is quite sure what Grandma eats. Alan is pretty sure it isn’t her own cooking otherwise how could she have possibly lived this long? Virgil keeps an eye on her, makes sure she is happy and content and has everything she needs. Gordon once tried scientific method on his grandmother and her food consumption, leaving several tempting tidbits around the place fixed with sensors to see which would take her fancy. Results were inconclusive since Alan ate half the experiment.

Virgil poured pink dye in the pool and the hypothesis was abandoned.

Brains is the trash can of the Island. He will eat anything put within arm’s reach. The engineer finds food an inconvenient bodily function and often won’t stop working to fulfil his body’s needs. Food appears beside him, the one neuron not focussed on whatever he is doing declares the food his and it is consumed efficiently.

Virgil quickly learnt to keep his lunch out of Brains’ reach when they are working together. One too many instances of going hungry because of grabby food hands taught him quickly.

Gordon, of course, thinks it is hilarious. The aquanaut once sat quietly beside the working engineer and managed to feed him an entire cheesecake piece by piece.

Scott was not impressed when Brains threw up on his shoes fifteen minutes later during his maintenance report. Gordon, go to my office, now!

And that leaves Gordon.

Gordon is a seagull. If you’ve got it, he wants it, and he will nag you until you give it to him.

Of course, this doesn’t prevent him from acquiring his own. Seagulls are scavengers after all. Then he will sit at the table with his plate or bowl of whatever and quite calmly sit there pinching things off your plate.

Whether he does this to amuse himself, or he has a psychological disorder, none of the brothers have bothered to investigate. It’s just Gordon, slap his fingers as needed. Of course, Kayo doesn’t have a problem. No one would dare steal from her plate.

Well, he did try once. Most people think the scar on his hand is just one of those from the hydrofoil accident.

It isn’t.

Of course, there was the time where he ate the steak Scott and Virgil were arguing over. They didn’t realise it until a full ten minutes later, by which time Gordon was no longer in the room, taking the digesting steak with him.

Grandma got to bake him a cake for that one.

But yes, in general, food in the Tracy household is a little chaotic. There have been death threats, mild bruising, profanity, theft, slander, the occasional all out war and sometimes a whole pile of mischief. But honestly, under it all? There is a whole pile of love. Because push comes to shove, each and every Tracy, by name or not, will give their all to help another.

And that includes food.

Though Grandma’s cookies have been declared lethal weaponry and throwing one results in mandatory dish duty for a month. Gordon, for the love of everything, put that down now!

-o-o-o-

#thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds #virgil tracy #thunderbirds fanfiction #scott tracy #kayo kyrano #gordon tracy #john tracy #alan tracy #grandma tracy #sally tracy #hiram hackenbacker #brains

[vallkyr]

Step Out

When the people you trust most leave you to get caught by the task force hunting you, what else is there to do but finding new allies?

Did you know that @agustdawn is a wonderful person who makes awesome gifs? Like the one above? I won’t let you forget that.

Pairings: Chan x Kwangsun (OC), Chan x Felix, Minho x Jisung, Changbin x Hyunjin, Younghyun x Liam (OC), Siyeon x Jonghyeon, Aaron x Minhyun and other minor pairings

Genres: Angst, Emotional Hurt, Hurt/Comfort, some Romance and bits of Fluff in between

Tags: Dystopia AU, Rebels AU

Chapter Tags: -

Rating: Mature

General Warnings: Violence, Injury, Panic Attacks, Minor Character Death

Chapter Warnings: -

Word Count: 8,285

Edit: I made some changes to Step Out since first posting it. For the explanation please check the notes at the beginning of chapter 9

Masterpost

< Previous Chapter | Next Chapter >

Chapter 4 - Sirens

“Oh, you’re already in bed?” A light frown arises on Minho’s face when spotting Jisung curled up on their bed. He closes the door behind him and takes a few careful steps closer. Jisung nods while plugging the charger into his phone and placing it on the nightstand next to him.

 “I was feeling kind of exhausted after today. The mission and… You know…” His shoulders feel heavy with guilt just thinking about it. He knows it’s ridiculous, but he can’t help it. They did what they had to, all of them agreed on that. But leaving Chan there… Nope. He mustn’t think about it. Jisung closes his eyes and shakes his head, trying to get rid of all the negative thoughts, before starting to make grabby hands into Minho’s direction. “Come here.”

 Minho allows himself a faint smile while approaching their bed and taking Jisung’s hands into his. In a matter of seconds Jisung pulls him into bed, covers him with the duvet, cuddles into his side. Warmth spreads through Jisung’s chest when Minho puts an arm around him and pulls him closer. Silence fills the bit of space between them while they look into each other’s eyes. Slowly but steadily, a smile forms on Jisung’s face too. “Do you have any idea how much better I fell when I’m with you? It’s as though everything bad disappears from this world…”

 “You’re such a sap,” Minho complains, making Jisung laugh with the faked disgust on his face. Despite it, Minho comes closer to peck Jisung’s lips. “But I know what you mean.” For a moment they just gaze into each other’s eyes again, smiles wide and hands finding back to each other. Minho leans in and kisses Jisung again; stars slow and gentle, but soon takes things further. Before they know it, Minho is leaning above Jisung and is leaving kisses down Jisung’s throat.

 “What are you doing?” Jisung giggles when he feels fingertips ghosting up the sides of his body. His eyes flutter shut while more and more kisses are placed on his skin. Fuck, the simplest things Minho does already make his head spin.

 “Taking your mind of all the unpleasant events of today,” Minho mumbles into the crook of Jisung’s neck before continuing with his procedure.

 “I don’t know about tha-” Jisung stops in his tracks when Minho suddenly raises up unto his knees and pulls his shirt over his head. Oh. That’s convincing. Shit, Minho always knows exactly how to push Jisung’s buttons. Contently grinning, Minho bunches the shirt up and throws it off to the side.

 “Just wait and see.”

  [-]

  “Hello, you two,” the young man in front of them says. His face doesn’t exactly look thrilled, not like Chan expected that. “I am Private Kim, unit C, Safety Team,” he patters. “Since you are going to work with us, the Lieutenant wants you to be familiar with our division’s rooms.”

“What about the rest of the headquarter?”

 “No,” he shuts Kwangsun down immediately. “The Lieutenant just wants you to know the place you’re going to be working at and the way in and out of the building. I’m not allowed to show you anything beyond that.”

 Chan and Kwangsun nod silently and follow Private Kim when he turns on his heel and heads down the hallway. They walk through some doors and more hallways. Chan already fears the Private might be ignoring them so successfully that he already forgot about them until they stop at the end of a hallway, in front of a set of big, wooden double doors reading “BATTLE TEAM” in all capital letters.

 “These are the rooms of the Battle Team,” Private Kim explains. It’s kind of obvious, but Chan appreciates that the Private making an effort to talk for once. The silence was getting kind of uncomfortable. “The Battle Team is responsible for taking out Stray Kids; they are one of two teams moving out during an attack.”

 And gone is the appreciation. A lump forms in Chan’s throat while he listens to those words. ‘Taking out Stray Kids’ keeps circling and circling in his head like a cruel carousel. The people behind that door were willing to accept killing him, along with the other members, in order to stop them. The rooms starts to spin as well.

 “Are you okay?” Kwangsun mutters in a low voice, just loud enough for Chan to hear. His hand comes to rest on Chan’s shoulder. Somehow it makes helps ease Chan’s mind and steady him a little. As if the weight of Kwangsun’s hand is enough to bring him back to the ground.

 “I’m good. Don’t worry about me.”

 The Private gives them a critical look but lets their little conversation slide and approaches the door. When they enter the spacious room behind said door, there is talking and buzzing everywhere. But the moment people notice Chan and Kwangsun behind their supervisor things change. Everybody goes quiet and more and more heads turn towards them. Everybody is staring them down, piercing them with their gazes. It feels like they’re getting lead inside a snake pit.

 Chan’s heartbeat skyrockets. His hands get sweaty. The dizziness hits him again. He has a hard time keeping his breath normal. He wonders if his state is obvious to the people trying to kill him with their eyes. If they know they’re about to succeed. Chan might have fled the room if it wasn’t for Kwangsun’s hand resting on his back, which silently reminds him to stay strong for their goal. He tries to take a deep breath. And another. His nails dig into the heels of his hands as he urges himself to calm down.

 “You’ve brought guests?” A member of the Battle Team suddenly speaks up. He gets up from his seat and gives them a warry smile as he strides towards them. “Maybe we should go outside,” he suggests after a look around the room full of people ready to jump at Chan’s and Kwangsun’s throats.

  [-]

  “What are your names?” Much to Chan’s relief, they left the lion’s den in favour of retreating to a sort of common room with a kitchenette located a bit away from the Battle Team’s room. The man who had led them out is, for some reason, now preparing coffee for all of them.

 “My name is Bang Chan. You probably know me as Nine.” The man hums and nods while giving him a quick glance.

 “And I’m Park Kwangsun. Or Kkul.”

 “Corporal Kim Minseok. I’m in charge of the Battle Team.” The man sighs while turning towards them. “I’d say it’s nice to meet you but that doesn’t quite hit it.” He sets the cups down on the table in front of Chan, Kwangsun and Private Kim – who has once again resigned himself to silence – and sits down opposite from them. “Though I have to apologise for my team. They are so focused on fighting Stray Kids that collaborating with you two doesn’t sit well with them just yet. Even though you’re going to help us catch the rest of the group.”

 “That’s understandable, it’s still awkward for us as well…” Chan’s hands snake around the cup. There’s something comforting about the warmth that seeps through his skin. Despite the new room with a pleasant lack of people staring daggers at them, Chan still feels the need to spring to his feet and run.

 “I think we will all need time to adjust.” Kwangsun smiles at Chan before taking a sip from his coffee.

 “You have a point,” the Corporal agrees. “Please be patient with my team. They may be doubtful, but they are good people. If you give them time, they will eventually warm up to you. Some faster than others.”

 “I sure hope so…”

  [-]

  Jisung wakes up to sunrays tickling his skin. His eyes slowly blink open; it takes him a moment to look around the room and realize it’s already bright outside. Next to him, Minho is still sleeping soundly. Very carefully, Jisung turns around to glimpse at his phone. Not even half past eight. Fuck yeah.

 With a bright smile on his face Jisung lies back down and snuggles into Minho’s side. It’s a relief how calm and relaxed Minho is when he sleeps. He tries not to let it show but this whole situation is asking a lot of him. Minho is always tense, always stressed, always on edge. It must be exhausting to suddenly be the leader. Even though he was prepared for the responsibility…

 More and more time passes in the silence of their room. Jisung doubts any of the others are awake anyways. As far as he knows, none of them is an early bird. Which means lots of wonderfully free time for Jisung to admire his sleeping boyfriend. His gaze wanders over Minho’s gorgeous tousled hair that reaches into his eyes, his strong eyebrows… Jisung leans forward to plant a kiss on Minho’s forehead. From up close, Minho is even more captivating. The prominent cheek bones, his beautiful full lips…

 Jisung still remembers the first time they kissed like it happened yesterday. After all the longing, all the hidden glances, all the fleeting touches. How it had all finally led up to that moment… Jisung’s heart beats faster when thinking about the way Minho had looked him in the eyes, this warm glow full of so many emotions all at once. Minho had looked so unusually shy while gently taking Jisung’s hands into his own. They had leaned in so slowly, so carefully, as if expecting the other to suddenly change his mind. When their lips had finally met, time had seemed to stop. Their first kiss had been hesitant and insecure but so sweet.

 Not being able to resists after wallowing in those memories, Jisung places a soft kiss on Minho’s still lips. Minho stirs underneath him, his nose scrunching up as he groans low in his throat. Giggling silently, Jisung rubs his nose against Minho’s, bunny-kissing him awake. “Good morning, my love.”

 “Mornin’,” Minho grumbles, still mostly asleep. “What time is it?”

 “Not even nine yet.” Jisung’s voice declines to a whisper again.

 “Perfect.” A smile tugs at the corners Minho’s lips while he carefully opens his eyes to look at Jisung, making Jisung’s heart flutter.

 “Mhm. Lots of time to cuddle.” Grinning contently, Minho rolls over, wraps his arm around Jisung and hooks a leg around Jisung’s body and pulls him closer. With a happy sigh, Jisung snuggles into Minho’s chest and closes his eyes again.

  [-]

  “These are the rooms of the Investigation Team.” Private Kim seems a bit more relaxed now, after their little coffee break with the boss of the Battle Team. Maybe not being all alone with Chan and Kwangsun helped. Or maybe he just accepted his fate. Either way, the young man is a little less stiff, still formal but not as stuck-up anymore. “This team is in charge of taking apart the crime scenes, trying to find clues to Stray Kids’ identities, their intentions, next target and so on.”

 With the Investigation Team, the air is different. Lots of talking too but everything seems more formal, more organized. Instead of a common room, like in the Battle Team’s facilities, Chan and Kwangsun find themselves in a long hallway. Beyond glass walls lies office after office. All look the same. All are designed to harbour five people. Two pairs of spacious desks are pushed together, facing each other, and one desk at the far side of the room, oriented towards the middle of the hallway. The back of the room is always filled up with cabinets. Near the door, most rooms are occupied, though Chan can spot an empty desk here and there. Further down the hallway, they find a few completely empty offices, restrooms and a conference room. At the very end of the hallway there is a separate office, the only one not framed by glass walls. On the door, there is a metal plate with “Corporal Lee” engraved into it.

 “This is the Corporals Office,” the Lance corporal explains. “A little warning: Don’t take her words at face value.”

 Don’t take her words at face value? A frown appears on Chan’s face. He is about to speak up when he feels Kwangsun’s hand on his arm, silently holding him back. Maybe Kwangsun is right, he shouldn’t pick a fight who seems so opposed to as much as showing them around. But this guy and the way he talks about the Lance Corporal pisses him off on principle.

 “Why?” Kwangsun sounds confused, but calm. Much calmer than Chan could have been. “She’s in charge of this division, one would think she knows what she’s talking about.”

 For the first time since they met him, Private Kim does something like laughing. “She’s one of the few female Lance Corporals. One of the youngest overall. And her father just so happens the Lieutenant of the Supreme Guard. Take that however you want.” While Chan and Kwangsun are still trying to come to terms with this statement, the Private knocks at the door then opens it without waiting for a reaction. Right next to the door is a desk, behind it a young woman with wavy, brown hair. Dark brown doe eyes fix them with a frown when they step in.

 “Come in,” the woman nags. “But the Corporal is currently in a meeting with Sergeant Park.” Chan takes a look around the spacious office. There is another, slightly bigger desk directly opposite from the door. The seat is indeed empty. In the far corner of the room there was a little sitting area, a cream-colored leather sofa together a light grey coffee table. The rest of the room is mostly filled with cabinets, just like the other offices. Though this office is made of proper walls, providing more privacy than glass panes plastered with opaque plastic film.

 “When is she going to be back?” No sooner than Private Kim says this does the door swing open behind them.

 “Right now.” When they turn around, the blond woman from two days ago in the investigation room is standing in the door frame. “I’m sorry, I didn’t get to introduce myself the last time. I’m Corporal Lee Siyeon. I see, the Lieutenant has taken my suggestion into consideration and is letting you have a tour around our facilities?”

 “That was your idea?”  Kwangsun wonders out loud.

 “Yes, if you two are going to work with us, we can’t order a supervision for you at all times. You need to know your way around here.”

 “Yeah, that would be quite complicated,” Chan agrees. The Corporal gives them a discrete smile before closing the door behind her and seating herself at her desk. She seems a little more relaxed without Lieutenant Yoon around, but she maintains an air of professionalism that doesn’t match Private Kim’s stance on her in the least. As expected, Private Kim is full of shit.

 “What have you seen so far?”

 “A lot of hallways…” Chan admits. “Private Kim wanted to show us the rooms of the Battle Team but they…”

 “They don’t agree with our guests and your idea to let them walk our department as they please,” the Private explains. His voice is cold, sharp. Chan thought he was used to that, but this is different. For a moment, silence falls over the room and a strange sort of tension fills the air. Corporal Lee’s voice has an edge to it when she speaks up once again.

 “The Battle Team, as everyone in the DIT is to obey the Lieutenant’s commands. Have you talked to Sergeant Park? He needs to-”

 “No.” Private Kim shows no sign wanting to add any sort of explanation. He just stares at Corporal Lee who remains remarkably calm considering that she was just cut off and disrespected by someone way below her in rank.

 “Then I will do that,” the Corporal declares, already rising from her seat again.

 “That’s really not necessary,” Chan tries to intervene. Corporal Lee and Private Kim both glare at him. With all the eyes staring at him now, he can’t help but feel reminded of the situation with the Battle Team. At least now, it isn’t entirely his fault, the situation had been tense even before he spoke up. “I’m sure the Battle Team just needs some more time. It’s a difficult situation after all.”

 Silence. The Private rolls his eyes. The Corporal sighs. “If it makes you feel better,” she speaks in a still even voice, despite the strained air. “I will talk to Corporal Kim first. I’m sure he will take the necessary steps.”

 “Thank you, I don’t want him to get into trouble.”

 Corporal Lee nods towards Chan before directing her attention at Private Kim again. “Show them around the remaining division. You can illustrate what the rooms of the battle team look like without seeing them, can’t you?”

 “Certainly, Corporal Lee.” The Private’s voice sounds sickeningly sweet when he replies. Afterwards he turns around and exits the room without another word, leaving Chan and Kwangsun and quickly say their goodbye and rush after him. Chan wonders if Corporal Lee has to deal with this kind of attitude on a daily basis.

  [-]

  After being shown around the neat rooms of the Investigation Team, Chan and Kwangsun follow Private Kim down the main hallway and around the corner towards another set of double doors. Chan would have thought that they walked in a circle and were going to give the Battle Team another chance to test whether looks can actually kill, if it wasn’t for the words “SAFETY TEAM” on the door.

 “This is the Safety Team.” The Private explains, enlightening as always. “We are responsible for keeping the DIT and everyone at and around the crime scene safe. Oh. And apparently we are also the ones babysitting the prisoners.” He pushes the doors open and leads them into a gathering room, which looks a lot like that of the battle team, maybe a bit smaller.

 “Welcome to our staging area.” A lot of people turn around. Some glare. But it’s nothing like their experience with the Battle Team. “Here, we meet for roll calls, when Corporal Kim gives us instructions or for various practices.” Chan looks around the room and the people staring at them when the Private interrupts him with a growled “You can get to know everyone in your own time. Let’s go.”

 A bit disappointed, Chan and Kwangsun follow Private Kim through one of the many doors at the side into a small room. There are sport mats leaned against one wall, and a little table surrounded by foldable chairs. But otherwise the room is empty.

 “What is-” Chan gets cut off when sirens started blaring.

 “Fuck!” Private Kim curses. Yellow blinking fills the room. “You two have to get out of here!” He yells while grabbing Chan and Kwangsun by the arms and dragging them towards the door. “Hurry, come on!”

 “What’s going on?” Kwangsun tries to ask over the siren while running after the Private who is suddenly rushing ahead of them, through one of the large doors. More and more people start running out of the room.

 “They’re attacking again!” The main hallway is a mess. People rush into different directions. Noise. Blaring. Blinking. Chaos.

 The Private apparently spots a familiar face because he grabs them by the arms again and pulls them through the stream of people towards a tall man more or less pressed against the wall.

 “Investigation Team?”

 “Yes.”

 “Take them home.”

 Chan and Kwangsun are pushed in front of the man and gone is Private Kim. The man’s eyes are wide, but he nods towards the retreating figure before mumbling “Follow me,” giving them a little smile and turning around. Together, they push through the crowd around them. Chan feels like suffocating in this mess. Too many bodies, too much of a rush, too much noise, too much everything. Fuck, why won’t this siren stop? He almost loses track of their new supervisor if it wasn’t for Kwangsun getting a firm hold of Chan’s hand and dragging him along, pulling him out of the herd.

 Deep breaths fill Chan’s chest when they finally turn into a smaller, empty hallway. They run towards the massive door at the end. The man who’s leading them pushes it open in a hurry and holds it open for them before putting his whole body weight into shutting the heavy door. Silence spreads. Nothing but their slightly laboured breaths and the almost inaudible blaring of sirens. When Chan looks around, he finds them on a spacious sort of balcony overlooking a huge, light flooded lobby with glass ceiling.

 “My name is Taehyung, by the way,” their guide mumbles after a moment. “Private Kim, Unit A, Investigation Team.” He stands up straight and gives them a genuine smile. “I’m sorry things were so rushed, but during an attack the Battle and Safety Team have to hurry to the crime scene. That doesn’t leave much space for taking care of anything or anyone else.”

“Don’t worry about it.” Kwangsun smiles as well. “I’m just glad we’re out of that yellow hell.”

 “Agreed. I thought the DIT would be a bit more… orderly.” After standing up straight, Chan finally has the chance to get a proper look at Private Kim – thankfully a nicer Private Kim this time. He’s a good bit taller than Chan is, has tan skin, slightly messy, dark brown hair and a handsome, friendly-looking face. It’s a nice change after looking at Private Kim’s stone face for half the day.

 “Usually we are,” Private Kim argues while holding Chan’s gaze with a smile. “But attacks are always an exception. Anyways, we have to get the two of you back into your apartment. Please follow me.” He starts walking again, along the balcony, towards the stairs leading down into what seems to be the entrance hall of the headquarters. So far Chan and Kwangsun hadn’t seen this part of the DIT, always being brought to the interrogation room via a staircase leading up from the underground car park. Private Kim quickly inform one of the Ladies at the front desk of their departure before heading out of the enormous building through the front entrance rather than what felt like some secret passage.

  [-]

  The ride is filled with some small talk and lots of silence. It’s awkward but at least Taehyung, who insisted to be called by his first name, doesn’t seem to hate them. Contrary to the entire Battle Team. Except for its Corporal maybe. And Corporal Lee. That makes three people in the entire DIT. Kwangsun guesses it’s not that bad considering that everyone in the division was set on hunting them until only a few days ago.

 “Do you want me to stay?” Taehyung is standing in the door frame, watching as Chan and Kwangsun take off their shoes. The corners of his mouth twitch upwards the slightest bit when Kwangsun looks at him.

 “No, it’s okay. You’re going to have a lot to do.”

 “Sadly you’re right…” Taehyung looks around the entrance area for a moment before apparently spotting what he was searching for. He steps up to the little cabinet near the door with the telephone on it, grabs a pen and piece of paper from the small notepad and starts scribbling something down. “There, now you have my number. If anything is the matter, don’t hesitate to call me, whatever it is. Goodbye, you two.”

 Neither Chan nor Kwangsun gets the chance to react before Taehyung waves at them and is already out of the door. Chan stands frozen for a moment before starting to run, peeling off his coat on the way into the living room. Kwangsun follows after hanging both of their coats, finding Chan in front of the TV, staring at the news.

 “They’re robbing another bank.” Chan mutters, more to himself than to Kwangsun.

 “Are they for real?” Kwangsun sits down next to Chan. The TV is blaring the sound of sirens, the same sirens that had been filling their ears just some minutes ago. Armoured DIT vans are cramped behind the hastily affixed caution tape.

 “I’m sorry you have to see this.” Kwangsun wishes he could do anything to help Chan. Surely, Lux would be able to provide Chan some comfort. But Kwangsun is determined to do the same.

 “Chan-ah, do you…” Chan doesn’t react in the least, just stares ahead as though hypnotized by the TV. His body is tense, bent forward, elbows digging into his thighs, jaw set, brows furrowed.

 Kwangsun sighs quietly. It’s no use talking to him in this state. “I’m going to get us something to drink.” Since the kitchen is open, Kwangsun can hear all the noise and the hurried voice of the reporter explaining what his going on. He tries to ignore it, though it gets harder the louder the ruckus gets. Kwangsun takes a deep breath while searching the kitchen cabinets for glasses. This new kitchen is still way too big and confusing to him.

 Eventually, he finds the right shelf, takes two glass and fills them with water. Kwangsun doesn’t notice the silence in their apartment until he comes back into the living room and finds the TV already switched off. Chan is slumped back into the couch, his gaze fixed to the floor.

 “What happened?” Kwangsun sets the glasses down on the table and crouches down on the floor next to Chan. It takes a moment until Chan looks at them.

 “They escaped.”

#Stray Kids #Step Out #dystopia AU #rebels AU #violence #lots of hurt #some of the relationships may or may not only be pretend relationship(s) #Lee Siyeon #Kim Taehyung #Bang Chan #Lee Minho #Seo Changbin #Hwang Hyunjin #Han Jisung #Lee Felix #Kim Seungmin #Yang Jeongin #Kang Younghyun #Kim Jonghyeon #Kwak Aaron #Hwang Minhyun #Chanlix #Minsung #Changjin #Minron