#like yeah mobs parents are there

[mtndw-whteout]

you’re just a kid.

#art #artists on tumblr #mob psycho 100 #mp100 #reigen arataka #shigeo kageyama #you cannot tell me that he didn’t see 10 year old mob in that moment #before he started really running toward him #HHHHHHRRRRR #this is been worming in my mind for months #that’s his pseudo dad right there #like yeah mobs parents are there #and I love them #reigen also got to see him grow up #sobs

[carnivalcarriondiscarded]

hey remember that caramel-carmel Fake Script i was writing? yeah it's technically not done but i'm tired of tinkering with it so here it is! we'll just say it's a uhhhh uncovered partial script or somethin

this is not in any way official! it's a 100% unaffiliated fanwork & i am Just Fucking Around for Funsies

~

BARNABY: oh, I love carmul!

FRANK: [long, disgusted pause] …what? 

BARNABY: Carmul! You know, those tasty little treats you’re holdin’!

FRANK: You mean caramel?

BARNABY: That’s what I said.

FRANK: [scoffs] No, you didn’t. You said carmul.

BARNABY: We’re sayin’ the same thing here.

FRANK: We absolutely are not!

JULIE: [giggles] You really aren’t.

BARNABY: Carmul, caramel, tomato, tomahto! What does it matter!

FRANK: [flustered, stammering] It - it matters! Julie, you agree with me, don’t you?

JULIE: Well… I don’t know, Frank! I think both are fun!

FRANK: You’re both wrong, then! Wally, you agree with me, don’t you?

WALLY: [hesitant] …I say carmul.

FRANK: No! Not you too! How could you poison him like this, Barnaby?

BARNABY: Don’t look at me! I’m innocent, honest!

FRANK: Ha! So you admit that carmul is the wrong pronunciation!

BARNABY: [groans] ah, geez… throw a dog a bone!

FRANK: I’d be delighted to if you’d just-

[distant yelp as Eddie trips off-screen] 

FRANK: Eddie! Thank goodness, finally someone who can put an end to this debate!

EDDIE: [nervous laugh] Oh no, what did I stumble into this time? 

BARNABY: Hold on a tic, Frank. Hey Ed, take this. What do you call that tasty treat?

EDDIE: [with a tinge of fear] A… caramel?

FRANK: [triumphant] a-HA!

SALLY: [approaching] Did someone mention carmul?

FRANK: AGH!

BARNABY: [delighted] Perfect timing, Sally!

SALLY: What, for a delicious morsel? Hand it over, thank you!

FRANK: You’re all wrong, and I’ll prove it! We’re going to go around the neighborhood and - wait. [under his breath] One two three four - [returns to normal volume] we’re taking this to Poppy’s!

BARNABY: Then Home, then Howdy, yeah yeah - might as well ask the daisies, too.

JULIE: Oooh, and the butterflies! 

SALLY: While we’re at it, we should phone everyone in the book, just to get the widest audience input.

FRANK: [unamused] You all think you’re so funny. 

EDDIE: Well, you gotta admit it’s… it’s… 

[brief, tense pause. Eddie clears his throat]

EDDIE: It’s perfectly sensible!

[Frank makes an affronted noise]

FRANK: Poppy will see sense.

-

POPPY: I’d be delighted to have a cah-mehl, but I’m afraid it-

FRANK: [aghast, truly astonished] You’re joking. You have to be joking. CAH-MEHL? Does no one in this town have sense?! Besides Eddie, of course. And Julie - on a technicality.

EDDIE: [oddly pleased] Why thank you. 

POPPY: My goodness, did- did I say it wrong?

BARNABY: [gleeful] Not in the least, Pops!

SALLY: As far as I’m concerned, you added an extra layer of… pizazz to the word. In fact, I may adjust my own pronunciation accordingly!  

POPPY: [flustered] Oh, well, I didn’t - don’t change on my account -

SALLY: Take the compliment, Poppy. 

POPPY: [meekly] Thank you.

[Sally wanders from the group, practicing the slightly adjusted pronunciation]

WALLY: I’m not sure I understand. What’s wrong with carmul or… care… mul… carmel…

POPPY: Don’t strain yourself dear, you’ll get a migraine.

FRANK: What’s wrong is that it’s ENTIRELY incorrect! It! Is! Pronounced! Caramel!

JULIE: Aww, Frank, I’m sure Home and Howdy will agree with us! Team Caramel, WOOO!

BARNABY: [barely restrained disbelief] Boy, won’t they! 

POPPY: I’m not sure what the fuss is about… there isn’t much of a difference, is there?

[Frank makes a high pitched, frustrated noise and stomps off. He can be heard calling Home’s name in the background]

JULIE: Oop, there he goes!

POPPY:  Oh - oh dear. I didn’t mean to rile him up.

BARNABY: Don’t twist your beak about it - Frank’s just bein’ Frank. Now if you’ll excuse us, I wanna see how it goes with Home.

WALLY: [quietly, thoughtful] But Home doesn’t talk like us…

POPPY: If you’re sure… Do let me know how it goes. 

SALLY: [swaying back to the group] I’ll phone you post-haste! Or even better, I can come by for one of your delicious muffins and regale you with the whole escapade, in detail.

POPPY: [audibly pleased] That sounds - well that sounds like a wonderful idea! I have some fresh from this morning-

BARNABY: Sounds great! See you around, Poppy.

-

FRANK: Home, I have an important question to ask you. Is the correct pronunciation for this candy ‘carmul’, or ‘caramel’? One creak for caramel, two for the incorrect carmul.

BARNABY: Talk about a bias…

[Home stays silent. Sally yawns.]

FRANK: One creak for caramel, two-

[Home slowly shuts their curtains]

FRANK: Hmph! The nerve… well, I suppose a house that can’t speak shouldn’t have a say, anyway.

WALLY: Home can speak. He just does it differently.

BARNABY: And I’m pretty sure they just agreed with me, Walls, an’ Sally.

JULIE: They did not!

BARNABY: Looked like it to me!

SALLY: I have to agree with Julie. Home just declared itself a neutral party, and so the vote can’t be counted either way. On to Howardson!

JULIE: Yes! Howdy! Our last hope!

FRANK: He may have terrible taste in company, but he’s a sensible businessman. Poppy and Home have let me-

JULIE: Us!

FRANK: -us down, but surely Howdy will back us up. 

BARNABY: [faux-serious tone, knows something they don’t] Absolutely. Without a doubt.

-

[store bell chimes]

HOWDY: Howdy-do - [brief pause, a tinge of surprise] everyone! My my, what brings the entire neighborhood to my bountiful bodega? Finally decided to clean me out for good?

BARNABY: [snorts] With how fast you restock? I think I’d break my funnybone!

FRANK: We have important business.

HOWDY: [mildly curious] Do we? That’s news to me! But I’m letting you know now that I don’t deal in bugs, Frankly. It’d be hypocritical. 

FRANK: Believe me, I wish I were here to talk insects. Unfortunately, I need to settle a score. Mr. Dear, if you would?

EDDIE: If I would what?

SALLY: [stage-whisper] Barnabello gave you the, ah, parcel earlier?

EDDIE: The…? Oh! Oh, right - I have it right here, just… give me a second… which pocket…? There we go.

[sound of a small, hard candy placed on the countertop] 

HOWDY: A carmul all for me? You shouldn’t have! No, really, you shouldn’t have. I’m on the clock.

BARNABY: [loud bark of laughter] I knew I could count on you, pal! So what’s the tally, Frankie?

[Frank mutters something inaudible]

BARNABY: What was that? I couldn’t hear you over the sound of me bein’ right!

FRANK: [explosive] You’re all wrong! The correct pronunciation is caramel, CARAMEL! You’re all - you’re all just - heathens! Heathens, I say! I’m taking my company elsewhere! 

EDDIE: Mr. Frankly…

JULIE: [overlapping, following] Aw, c’mon Frank! 

[the door jingles. Julie and Frank’s hushed arguing in the doorway underlies the dialogue]

HOWDY: It sounds like I missed quite the context! Mind filling me in?

BARNABY: That was pretty much it; a real potato potahto argument.

HOWDY: If you say so, Barn. Speaking of potahtos-

[the background argument abruptly cuts off, the door jingles again as it's closed]

FRANK: [rapidly rejoining the group] Hold it! You don’t really say potahto, do you?

BARNABY: [under breath] Here we go again…

SALLY: [deeply amused] Where on Earth did you pick up such a butchered pronunciation? I must have missed the sign on my tour down from the heavens.

EDDIE: [baffled, underlying the dialogue] I’ve never heard anyone say it that way.

JULIE: Oh! Is it a joke? Like, Barnaby says potato-potahto, and then you jokingly say potahto to make us laugh? 

HOWDY: It’s not a joke. That’s how it’s said.

FRANK: [genuinely disturbed] No - no one says that. It’s potato.

HOWDY: Well I say potahto, thank you very much! And if you ever want one from my store again, you’d do well to accept that.

[Various grumbles of reluctant acceptance]

HOWDY: Good. Now, can I get any of you a refreshing drink after such a squall? You must be parched! 

WALLY: I wouldn’t mind a glass of mulk.

[Horrified silence. A pin drop would be deafening]

[Sudden uproarious and overlapping argument]

#consider this a low budget dollar store fanfic #didnt want to write an actual fic so Just The Dialogue Works Fine #anyway ive never tried to write a script-adjacent Anything so have mercy on me #i dont know what im doing ever! im having fun anyways! #and for the record! im team carmul #well all pronunciations are valid in my book but i say carmul #always have always will dont know why dont know how #my parents tried to make me say it 'caramel' growing up and uhhh No <3 #its fuckin carmul to me. To Me. #i dont say potahto tho. who the fuck does that who isnt a 50s mob boss in jersey #if a 50s mob boss in jersey is reading this: you'll never catch me alive #absolutely unprompted #welcome home #hmmm i should have a writing tag at this point #yk what ill just reuse - wait no i cant reuse the one from my dc sideblog #oh fuck it we'll stay on theme #snippets from the bog #yeah this little writing thing has been in my docs for like. #checking my nonexistent watch here. mmmmmmdont know. a while #and im slightly terrified to post! #its one thing posting art - posting any sort of writing is like breaking your ribs open with a crab cracker #and saying Hi! Have A Taste! I Hope My Viscera Isn't Completely Disgusting! #my god i hope they're at least acceptably in character. im trying im trying #i hope this gives someone a laugh! #or at least a hearty Chortle #or... blowing air through your nose in amusement. yes

[littlebigmouse]

Everyone making fun of Reigen like the dude isn't literally in his late 20s. Dude started the psychic agency when he was like, 24. It's a miracle that place is still running. The fact that Reigen isn't even 30 years old explains absolutely everything about him.

#like yeah of course he extorts a middle schooler for labour he's 28 and eats like a college student #mp100 #reigen arataka #like yeah of course he's weird he has the social circle of a guy who's friends all went to found families ten years ago in his late 20s #he literally had a quarter life crisis #mob psycho 100 #don't get me wrong reigen is absolutely bulliable #i'm just saying if i founded a psychic agency now to spite my parents it would go about the same #if not way worse actually

[computercreature]

i’m obsessed with mob and reigen’s relationship for so many reasons but it really is hysterical to me because like. reigen is trying sooo hard to have a found family with a kid who. already has a real loving family snekdmw

#i hope reigen never meets mob’s parents and it’s left a mystery forever #mob is hanging out with a grown man after school having dinner with him even spending the night in that one episode #and we only see his parents when they get on his case about bending spoons #OH YEAH AND THEY WENT ON VACATION TOGETHER. WITH RITSU #mob’s parents are the funniest people ever no one does it like them #mp100 #mob and reigen

[luckyfailure]

matilda and mob psycho 100 are the only works of art ever about gifted children. i'm not interested about the rest.

#i love how their powers do carry the narrative but in a way that is so them #to pursue the things that are right to them #i also love how the adults in there are portrayed for different reasons #matilda is like yeah kids it is right to hate your parents. a power fantasy for me honestly #and mp100 has reigen fucking arataka. who is also shown to be in the wrong but has genuine love for this kid AND shows it #their messages are also opposite but not exactly? #matilda calls for rebellion against unfair adults from a kid standpoint. something i feel gifted kids perceive even more deeply #but it ends with her making a genuine connection with someone who sees her and gets her the accomodations she needs #making her quote unquote normal #and mob psycho 100 is explicitly about a gifted neurodivergent kid who got really lucky #his family supports his weirdness and never pushed the special one title on him #reigen also does this and also teaches him to see it as just one thing he happens to be good at #and yet he hides it bc he's aware it's not just superpowers what he has #in the same way gifted kids aren't only just smart a lot of the time. it's also a difference in perception of reality #and his character arc is insanely compassionate bc of this luck he had #and also filling in the aspects of himself that were hard for him to explore and grow in bc of what makes him different #this wholesomeness can only happen bc the ppl surrounding him are mostly kind #matilda's revenge is the only way she can fight to protect herself due to the environment she's in #they are both very close to me <3

[padfootastic]

so, for s&h sarurday, we’ve got outsider pov of mob boss sirius and a bunch of scary looking mafia underlings showing up to a school play with inconspicuous weapons to see kiddie harry dressed as a tree. confusion & ‘oh my god the boss has a what?’ ensues. slightly crack-y.

Clark Forrest hadn’t planned on going into this line of work, not when he’d graduated with an honours degree in Business Administration. But the economy was…not doing great, bills had to be paid, and he knew someone who knew someone who had very enthusiastically hooked him up with this job so here he was.

Applying his hard earned education to being the accountant for a mob boss.

If only his poor mum, may the Lord bless her soul, could see him now. She’d faint right back into her grave.

To his boss—Mr. Black’s—credit, he wasn’t that kind of mafia, the one with the indiscriminate killing and plucking toenails off and kidnapping children. Clark was sure there was some kind of…illicit activity going on - he wouldn’t be a mob boss if there wasn’t, would he? - but he hadn’t seen anything of the sort as of now, so he could happily go on believing nothing was amiss.

Well, unless you counted the occasional blood on the rug.

That - was clearly one of the more, uh, colourful activities Mr. Black engaged in. He tried not to think hard about it. It could always be red wine?

Was it really a surprise then, that Clark thought it would be something similar, when almost the entire, er, gang was called in for an important meeting?

“Alright, this one’s important so listen up,” Mr. Black ordered.

Now, here’s the thing. For those who hadn’t seen the man, it would’ve been very hard to picture the kind of—aura he had. Outwardly, he was attractive, almost unnaturally so, with high cheekbones, a sculpted nose, grey eyes that were known to inject terror into the hearts of the toughest of men. His hair was cropped close to his head, and he had jewellery pierced through his entire right ear. Tattoos ran down the length of his arms, creeping up the hem of his shirt to skirt around his jaw, peeks of ink around the ankle when he walked.

He looked dangerous, yes. No one would dispute that.

But he didn’t—feel dangerous. Not at first.

Because Sirius Black had an accent as posh as the Queen, with a pleasant smile adorning his face, like he’d just gotten back from a walk. Clark had been under the mistaken impression that the man wasn’t fit to hold the position he did - maybe he’d just gotten it through inheritance? a placeholder, perhaps? - because someone who drank their tea with more milk than tea in it, who sniffed delicately into handkerchiefs and said ‘excuse me’ when he burped—that didn’t seem like a mob moss, never mind that Clark’s only experience with the underworld had been in the form of smuggled DVDs and pirated clips.

It wasn’t until he’d seen what happened when someone defaulted on a payment that he realised exactly how deadly the man was. The screams from behind closed doors still rang in his ears sometimes. The unbothered expression of neutrality on Mr. Black’s face as he exited the room even more haunting.

Coming back to the situation at hand, though, Clark’s back had automatically straightened at Mr. Black’s tone. His brows were furrowed in a deep frown, lips pressed into a line, and he was looking at all the assembled members intently.

“Tomorrow, 9am sharp, not a minute before and not one after—You’ll be outside Collingswood Primary. I want all of you dressed casual. Jeans, jumpers, t shirts, you get it. If I see a single obvious sign that you’re packing, I’ll have you strung upside down from the London Bridge quicker than you can turn the safety off, get it?”

It took a second for Clark to realise he was actually expecting a verbal answer and he hastily added his agreement to the chorus of ‘yes, sir’ and ‘affirmative’ ringing around the room. Mr. Black stared at them for a few seconds longer—seconds that felt like they were stretched into hours. Clark could feel the sweat beading on the back of his neck, not even daring to blink as Mr. Black’s gaze skimmed over the room, only stopping on his for a millisecond. Finally, he nodded and gestured to his right.

“Lupin will give you the address and be your point man for the event tomorrow. We’re going to be undercover in public, which means subtlety and respectability. I expect everyone to show it.” With one final nod, he swept out of the room without a glance backward.

It was like a collective breath was released in that moment because Clark could feel his chest deflating, eyes blinking rapidly in an attempt to understand what just happened.

Did the big boss just tell them to go incognito at a…primary school? One where actual, real kids went to study? Clark was confused because—he could’ve sworn they didn’t do that. Mr. Black hadn’t said it out loud but Clark had always gotten the impression that children were off limits. But that was clearly not the case here.

Maybe he needed to rethink his earlier ‘no kidnapping children’ conviction, and also his employment while he was at it.

Speaking of which, why was he there anyway? He was an accountant, had never been ‘out in the field’ so to speak a day in his life. He couldn’t even identify the parts of a gun if his life depended on it, for Christ’s sake.

Really, the only thing they all had in common was that they looked like they could blend into a crowd—as opposed to Mr. Black and a couple others who looked like they’d stepped off a biker gang catalogue at any given moment—which is, perhaps, why they’d been selected. All the better for going incognito.

“Alright lads, you heard the boss,” Lupin said, before rattling off the address for somewhere in Chelsea. Jesus. “Be there at 9 on the dot, you hear me? That’s when entry starts and it’s first-come-first-serve. Obviously, we want the best seats available. No excuses for being late because if you are, then that’s shop cleanup duty for a week. Alone.”

“But that’s a three man job, at least,” one of the others cried and the almost-sadistic smirk that flitted on the man’s face reminded Clark why, despite his mild mannered looks, he was one of Mr. Black’s main enforcers.

“Guess you won’t be late then, huh?” he replied with a nonchalant shrug.

Clark hastily swallowed all the questions he had at that.

x

The next morning, the sun was shining bright, the sky was blue without a single cloud and Clark was standing in front of Collingswood Primary—a large, sprawling brick structure with faculty members dotted around the grounds—at eight fifty seven, feeling exceptionally awkward in his polo shirt and khaki trousers.

He tugged at the collar as he surveyed the place. It was a posh neighbourhood, no disputing that. He couldn’t remember ever stepping foot in the area before today and it almost felt like even the air here was too expensive for him to breathe. It was making him even more nervous, then, to imagine what they could possibly be here for. Clark had spotted almost every single person from yesterday’s meeting scattered around the place.

McKinnon was leaning against a tree, phone in hand, and he was slightly envious at how comfortable she looked, while he was sweating in his loafers. Lupin, Meadowes and Longbottom were gathered around the far end of the lane, coffee cups in hand and periodically glancing around. Pettigrew was stuffing a bagel in his mouth, hunched over like he didn’t realise everyone could see him. Clark’s lip curled instinctively at the sight.

Another look around and he realised the man himself, Mr. Black, wasn’t here. Did that mean they had to do…whatever it was…on their own? He wasn’t prepared for this. He was just an accountant who’d taken a wrong turn in life and ended up in this position, both employment-wise and existentially, no matter how cushy the pay was or how many free coffees he got from the communal Keurig.

It was as he was spiralling in the thoughts of what could have been (what if he’d gone into trade school like his da wanted? what if he hadn’t failed third semester corporate finance and had gone into a different kind of cutthroat sector? what if he hadn’t thought a call centre was beneath him? what if—) that he heard a voice call out.

“Mr. Black! Welcome, welcome.”

His head snapped up just in time to look at the tall frame of Sirius Black standing beside a lady who was almost half his height—literally, the top of her blonde bun barely reached his chest—at the front gate. Mr. Black was dressed…differently. His usual leather-jacket-distressed-skinny-jeans look was switched out for a very respectable button down shirt and trouser, still skinny fit of course, and he looked—normal? Not like he was the head of the most terrifying organisation this side of the Thames, not even with the tattoos that were visible all the way from where Clark was standing. He could see him taking the old lady’s hand in a handshake.

“Headmistress Martin, you look lovely as always. I trust you’ve been well?”

Inexplicably, the lady (which—headmistress??), who must be as old as Clark’s grandmum, blushed. “I appreciate that, Mr. Black. You know, I’m glad to catch you here today, I wasn’t sure if you’d be able to make it.”

“As if there’s any way I can miss…” their voices trailed away as they made their way inside and Clark cursed the missed opportunity. He still didn’t know what was happening, and at this rate, his head was hurting because the most recent interaction was telling him there was something else at play here. It didn’t quite seem like they were here to kidnap kids for ransom or blackmail now.

Just as he’d shifted his worldview for the third time in so long, Lupin walked over the entrance and made a signal for the others to follow. Clark, being the closest, ended up directly behind him, which gave him the chance to…subtly listen—not eavesdrop, not his fault people talked too loud these days—to the man’s conversation with the teacher at the gate.

“Six for Harry Potter,” he said, handing over…tickets?

“I just saw Mr. Black go in too,” the teacher replied after writing it down in her clipboard. “Quite a popular kid, that one, isn’t he?”

“We’d like to think so.” Lupin smiled and walked in, seemingly familiar with the building and leading them like a line of ducklings to a door marked ‘Auditorium’. At this point, Clark was—yet again—calibrating his entire worldview. They were here for a…show? A kid’s show, at that? Were they going to drag a kid straight off the stage? Or, was he wrong, and were they here for a parent?

That would actually make more sense. Maybe they had a…client or someone who was hiding, but even cowards could be good parents, right?

He kept telling himself that as they took their seats somewhere down the middle, all in one row. He ended up squished in between Lupin and Longbottom, which was great, really. He could get all the inside gossip without any of the work.

“So when’s the kid coming up?” Longbottom asked, looking around curiously. “And where’s the boss sitting, anyway?”

“Sirius would be somewhere in the front row there. See.” Lupin pointed a finger towards the center of the auditorium, where a fancier set of couches were laid out. Mr. Black was sitting on one of them like he owned the whole place, with the Headmistress and some other distinguished looking officials in conversation beside him. “The lucky bastard, gets the good stuff while we’re stuck on these bloody chairs.”

Sometimes, Clark forgets that these two men went way back—no one else could dream of referring to the boss man like that.

“As for Harry, there’s some sort of a—choir, I believe? Then the play. Shouldnt take too long, it is primary school, at the end of the day.”

“Speaking of primary schools, do you know why we needed to bring our…pieces to one?” Longbottom questioned. Clark barely swallowed down the squeak that followed that line of query. He’d almost forgotten they were…packing. “Does Black think we’ll get attacked out here or something?”

“You know he doesn’t,” Lupin rolled his eyes. “But he’s not taking any chances when it’s coming to Harry. If you think you’re armed, you should’ve seen the assortment he strapped to himself today. If I didn’t know him, I would’ve had him chucked straight into a facility, I’m telling ya.”

“Mate, I know him and still feel the urge sometimes.” Both of them snort in unison at that and Clark is just sitting there, slightly terrified and mostly confused, at the turn of the conversation.

As the—program commenced, Clark keeps a tight grip on the handles of his seat, watching each child and member of the audience carefully. He doesn’t knew what he’d be asked to recount later, and he has no wish to make things harder for himself by losing himself in the spiral of wondering what the fuck was going on. His time at this particular…organisation had taught him two things, if nothing else: head down and no questions. It was how he’d skirted past everyone’s radar so far and he wanted to keep it that way.

The choir came up on stage and performed an—interesting variation on pop songs he’d heard on the radio. Lupin and Longbottom clapped politely when it ended and Clark joined in until the host on stage announced ‘Annual Play! Our little actors have put their heart and soul into this, so please, show them all the love you can’ which led to another round of applause, slightly more raucous this time. He could see Mr. Black was one of the more enthusiastic ones in the audience. Huh. He didn’t think he’d ever seen him smile so big before.

Just as he’s focused on now unnaturally white the man’s teeth were, Lupin leant forward to face their entire row.

“The boss’ kid is coming up now and he expects maximum participation from all of you.”

“The boss’ what?” Clark’s glad that McKinnon chose to voice what they were all thinking because he didn’t think he was brave enough for it, no matter how much he wanted to know.

“His kid, Harry. Keep up, Marlene,” Lupin sighed, like they were being the ones being unreasonable here and not the fact that an entirely new facet about their…organisation’s head had been revealed to them.

“Since when did Black have a child, what the fuck.”

“That’s not important, what is is the fact that Harry’s about to be on stage right now and if you get caught talking during his part, you bet your arse he’s gonna have you cleaning blood off the rug for the whole month.” With that, he turned back to facing the stage, considered the matter closed—no thought given to the others who were stuck in varying stages of disbelief and shock.

“How, er, how exactly are we supposed to know which one the kid is—and does he have a name?” Pettigrew asked, craning his neck around everyone between him—in the last seat—and Lupin.

“It’s Harry, didn’t you hear, Pettigrew?” McKinnon snarked.

“He’s just coming up, wait…” Lupin mumbled, looking intently at the stage where a bunch of kids dressed in colourful fairy tale costumes had arranged themselves. “There! That one.” He pointed towards the back corner of the stage where a small cluster of children were gathered. Clark squinted, trying to identify what was going on. Surely, Lupin didn’t mean—

“The tree?” Meadowes said, incredulously “That’s what we’re all here to see, a kid dressed as a common garden tree?”

Somehow, he didn’t think he could be more shocked and yet, when Lupin nodded, completely seriously, Clark was. His eyes zeroed in on the tree in question—not a hard task considering there was only one—and could just about make out a bunch of hair escaping the band sitting on his head. There was a pair of spectacles sitting on his nose, a bit too large in Clark’s opinion, and his face was pulled up in a wide smile. He was looking straight at the front row and even sitting as far back as he was, Clark could see the joy radiating off him. Cute kid, really, but did nothing to make sense of the befuddlement he was feeling.

Clark turned to his side, saw the varying expressions of confusion and shock lining everyone else’s face, and felt immediately gratified. At least he wasn’t alone.

He went through the rest of the performance barely registering what was happening, like moving through a fog, clapping when Lupin and Longbottom did—which was apparently whenever the tree, sorry, Harry so much as moved—and sneaking glances at Mr. Black all the other times.

It was astounding—the man was leaning forward, elbows planted on knees, an expression of complete rapture on his face like he didn’t want to be anywhere else except here, watching a kid dance around in a plastic shrubbery costume. He clapped frequently and loudly, even letting out a taxicab whistle one time that made Clark double take most comically. The guests on either side of him only smiled indulgently in his direction and that, more than anything, drove home how much of a regular Mr. Black must be among them.

An indeterminate amount of time later, the kids bowed, the host announced the end of the show, and everyone clapped harder than they had so far. Which was really saying something considering how much their group had contributed to the cumulative applause. And that’s not to even mention Mr. Black. But now, everyone was on their feet, and Clark could feel his palms stinging under the onslaught of his enthusiasm. Better that than be reprimanded later, though.

Once the cheers had died down and the host was finished with their closing credits, Lupin turned to them. “We’re going backstage, let’s go.” And promptly got up, walking down the aisle towards the stage. Clark blinked at his abruptness, used to it by now but still not quite, before turning to his other side where Longbottom was flapping his hand in a ‘well, go on then’ motion. He decided to listen and scurried away after Lupin, absently wondering if they looked like a bunch of ducklings following after mama duck. And wasn’t that a thought—the mighty thugs of the London underworld, relegated to animal metaphors.

“Wonderful event, Mr. Smith.” Lupin shook hands with an average white guy at a side entrance. “We’ll just go in here to see our boy, yes?”

“All…of you?” The guy asked, eyeing their procession dubiously.

“Well, of course, Harry’s our favorite little guy,” Lupin replied in the same pleasant voice. Clark didn’t bother to clarify that none of them even knew there was a little guy until an hour ago. If the boss wanted them to say his kid was their favorite, then that’s what they’ll say. It didn’t take long after that for them to be let in. Clark would be more worried about the school’s safety if he hadn’t seen Lupin walk circles around the smartest people he’d ever seen. School cops were no match.

“An’ an’ an’ did ya see the whole t’ing?” An excited voice was saying as they turned the corner. Clark craned his neck and felt his brows creeping up when he assigned it to their favorite little guy—Harry. Who was currently being cuddled—there was no other word for it—by Mr. Black. Harry had his arms wrapped around the man’s neck as he talked and Mr. Black was looking at him with a kind of laser focus Clark had never seen before. And considering he looked after their entire operation’s accounts, that was really saying something.

“I saw the whole thing, baby,” Mr. Black replied, voice soft. Clark and the rest of their entourage were frozen in their positions, not wanting to disturb their conversation. “You were beautiful.”

Harry bit his lip at that, eyes gaze falling to rest on Mr. Black’s collarbone rather than his eyes. “I was jus’ a tree, though, Siri.”

Mr. Black’s eyebrows turned down. “And you were the most perfect tree I’ve ever laid eyes on.”

“But it—that’s—trees are boring. Anyone can be one,” Harry’s lower lip looked a bit wobbly there and Clark had just a second to despair, no matter that he was standing too far away to be expected to do anything, before Mr. Black took over, swift and practiced.

“Harry, my love, if anyone can be a tree, and yet it was you that was chosen, then what does that say about you?” Personally, Clark thought that bit of philosophy, while profound, was a bit too complicated for a child.

“But—“

“And,” Mr. Black gently cut in, “If you were boring, then I wouldn’t have cheered as hard as I did, would I? It’s a matter of pride for me that my godson makes such a lovely tree.” He tweaked the kid’s nose, making him let out a wet giggle. But, even Clark, inexperienced as he was around children, could see they weren’t out of the danger zone yet. The kid was still looking a bit troubled there. Clearly, Mr. Black had picked up on it as well because he turned to their little association with an expectant look on his face. Clark hadn’t even realised he’s noticed them but of course he did.

“And if that’s not good enough for you,” he continued teasingly, turning Harry towards them. “Then you can ask any of them and they’d say the same.” Mr. Black’s raised eyebrow was sufficient warning.

Harry, on the other hand, was unaware of the looming danger because he burrowed into his…parent? guardian? uncle? (Seriously, what was the relation here?) as he noticed the bunch of strangers standing there like idiots.

“Who’s they, Siri?” he whispered loudly.

“They’re my friends from work.” Clark pushed down the hysterical snort that wanted to emerge at that statement. “And they came here just for you!”

“Really?” Harry’s eyes—a bright emerald, now that Clark was closer—opened wide in surprise. “All for me?”

“All for you, baby,” Mr. Black reassured him before clearing his throat pointedly. Clearly that was the cue for Lupin, who’d been standing just as quietly, to jump in for he strode forward until he was right in front of the pair.

“Hello, Mr. Harry,” he offered a hand to the kid, who returned the solemn handshake with a grin tugging his lips. “I see you’re well.”

“You too, Mr. Loo-pin,” Harry giggled before leaning forward in Mr. Black’s arms. “Did ya see me pre-pef-peform?”

“I did, you were really quite something, kiddo,” Lupin ruffled his black hair, showing a level of familiarity Clark should’ve come to expect by now. “Thank you for letting me come.”

“But I din’t—“ Harry said, eyebrows furrowed adorably.

“We wouldn’t have seen such a great show if you weren’t acting in it, now, would we?”

“Hm.” While Harry seemed to consider that, Clark and the others had managed to get over their shock to make their way to their boss and his kid.

“Hello, Harry,” Meadowes grinned, bright and friendly, taking the lead. “You were so cool up there!”

The poor kid looked at her with rapidly reddening cheeks. Clearly he wasn’t immune to her charms either. Figures. “T’ank you, miss.” Clark could see Meadowes biting down on her lip, eyes softening in adoration.

“I thought you were the best one on stage, Harry,” Clark added, keeping one eye on his boss who was staring at all of them intently and another on Harry who couldn’t see to stop blushing. As he received another stammered thanks in reply, the others stepped up for their turn at congratulating the kid.

When all of them had finished their round of pleasantries, not that it was much of a chore—while a tree was certainly a forgettable role, Harry was adorable enough to win all of them over—Mr. Black smoothly stepped into the conversation. He ran a gentle hand over the boy’s unruly hair, smoothening it fruitlessly before tucking a few strands behind one ear.

“Will you believe your poor godfather now? Or do I need to shout from the rooftops?”

Harry swatted at his chest feebly, making a face at the gentle teasing. Despite knowing that this was just a kid—the boss’ godson at that—Clark held his breath in anticipation of how such an action would be perceived. Surprisingly (or perhaps not) the boss only grinned, a shocking display of emotions Clark hadn’t ever seen before today.

“So, ice cream in celebration then?” he asked. Clark, still stuck on the relationship reveal, almost replied in the affirmative before realising that would’ve been a supremely awkward thing to do. Clearly he wasn’t the one being asked here.

“Yes, please, Siri!” Harry chirped, bouncing a little in excitement. “Will—will your friends come too?”

“Will they, now?” Mr. Black repeated, looking at them with a raised eyebrow that communicated very well his feelings on the matter. The four of them, Longbottom and Lupin not included, immediately fell over themselves trying to communicate a variety of reasons for why they ‘couldn’t come, so sorry kid, maybe next time?’ in a way that didn’t hurt his feelings or get themselves strung upside down.

“Oh, otay then,” Harry blinked, looking a bit overwhelmed at the sudden onslaught directed at him. “T’ank you for comin’!”

Meadowes was unable to stop herself from cooing this time. Mr. Black snorted softly before inclining his head in their direction, saying ‘thank you’ and dismissing them in one smooth move.

Longbottom and Lupin stayed back, engaging Harry in conversation, while the others slowly walked away, trying to wrap their heads around the events of the day. He could hear snippets of Meadowes and McKinnon conversation, speculating on why they needed to be armed if they were just here to watch a kid’s play, and immediately increased his pace so he didn’t have to hear about things like that again. He really did not want to think about the unsavoury aspects of his job right now, not when he was equally baffled by everything.

Instead, he wondered if he should go job hunting again. All this stress surely wasn’t worth it, was it? Not if he wanted a place right next to his mother in the near future. Maybe he should think of going into the call center industry he’d written off earlier. It didn’t make use of his degree but it also didn’t have guns, the pay was decent, and there was no definitely no blood to clean up on the rug.

#sirius black #harry potter #remus lupin #good godfather sirius black #sirius and harry saturday #mob boss sirius black #an oc with the stupidest name on earth #literally used it as a placeholder but i can’t find anything better lol #outsider pov #look i finished it! a bit disjointed but the spirit is there i think #i started this like two months ago bc of this mental image of a bunch of scary thugs showing up to the school #for harry dressed in the most mundane outfit because sirius is a PTA Parent #and that fact remains true even in a universe where he’s a scary mobster #the ending is kind of meh but we’ve established i’m not good at those #but yeah. big terrifying man who’s super soft for his kid. #a+ concept. love to see it. #tumblr works #pen’s writing

[zoekrystall]

Saw certain tweets and here once again a reminder which a twt mutual luckily wrote shorter than I could (plus public so I can rb bc no way I do that myself on that site)

Also

And if you want smth I wrote myself which is longer and not just abt that here you go

#a wild lux appears #I think they're one mutual who is fine w being screenshotted ik some don't want that #I wrote that bsky thing while waiting for food. Reg the fellow person I talk abt don't bash ppl that already spoke up and stop for a bit #To rb more later. Or ppl that still go to work bc they can't afford not to bc the thing by these actions is community isn't there as net #Or like anyone that shows they care and didn't do anything harmful and just take recharge time or so #Educate willing(!) ppl nicely and don't bash them or send a internet mob to them etc #The ones posting they still go to/buy boycott stuff yeah they're awful but what does bashing them bring at the end of the day #Don't support those ppl yeah but them posting that shows how much they care for it. They prob just want cloud which you give them. #Pressure ppl in power in a way they can't ignore focus on that not no name individuals #If ppl you know talk in private and if they don't want to change literally just cut them out of your life if possible #Online just block. Don't argue w people that just want to stir smth up etc etc #Also I don't think it's too productive to be mad when a standard user anywhere doesn't share stuff. Like yeah give them info abt that but #some either just do smth offline (in that case maybe tell them in this case just sharing online is also helpful) or are mentally too done #and focus all energy to survive (which is intended by the ppl in power. make ppl so done they only have energy to survive themselves so they #don't have energy to speak up abt problems in the world). Bashing famous ppl is completely different bc backlash actually brings smth there. #More ppl could do more if strike organizations would include community care so more actually could not go to work/shopping #Also reg protests so they should know do you know how many don't watch news anymore (I don't watch tv since many years) #I'm sure some also just can't esp younger ppl if they're parents monitor their socials and are zionists #Ofc speak up. I'm just here to say there are explanations. If they read things and still don't care unfollow/block/mute/idc or if you know #Them talk and explain how if is important they speak up #This has been going on for a good while now idk how many still don't know I am mostly pointing that out for new or not as much shared things #Tho I'm sure many don't know bc the standard response is the gov knows what he does and they do propaganda #They think surely the gov takes care of that. If they shut down convos reg that then that is dangerous denialism and living in escapism n #All. Not if the ppl who follow this need a break w fiction or so. I am sure the ppl you try to reach w bashing already muted/blocked all #accs and words associated w that #Anyways I gotta shower now. Disclaimer my personal opinion be an asshole and it's block on sight yada yada. #I just woke up I'm hungry I need to shower but that is also when I decide to share my pieces so

[mx-paint]

.

#its so fucking funny seeing somebody complain about feminism #specifically by saying its a HATE MOVEMENT #what are they hating? cant say they just hate #ITS SO FUNNY #and like. first he posted how a guy got banned for refusing to make a gay cake and they pointing out he refused to make it gay #-but offered to make them a cake #like sure. i guess the fact he doubled the price was also something for ya?? oorrrrrr #and the fact he got a gender reveal cake and apparently the 'woke mob' came after him (as in the people that got the cake didnt like it) #like. what are ya trying to say. #also the fact he called the little mermaid movie terrorism. or the fact he said that he claims a trans person shot up a church and got away #with it. when looking it up reveals they. very much. didnt. cause theyre Dead. #anyways. yeah feminism needs work (especially since it mainly is centered on just white people specifically Women) #but the fact hes editing the articles and quoting parts in scraps Really sells how lame your point is #esp since fox news is apparently his reliable source #plus the fact hes quoting a anti trans tweet of someone saying hormone blockers will cause you to Die. #which. if you want to erase the fact this is a decision that is talked about Extensively with both parent and child. #and. according to Actual sources. by people that. are Actually in a feild to comment. usually they dont get it until Years after puberty #anyways.

[ew-selfish-art]

Dpx Dc AU: Ectoplasm is required for Ghosts to be visible to the human eye- And Danny creates his own ectoplasm.

Danny is visiting Jazz in Gotham and its weird how friendly everyone is. Like, the city gets a really bad rapport, everywhere he goes there is someone trying to strike up a conversation or answer his questions about getting around to the tourist spots. A few people even pointed out restaurants and ways to find off the beaten path gems! Jazz seems to role her eyes at him, but when he brings up her 'roommate' being kind of cute she flat out laughs.

Danny then comes to understand the Jazz doesn't have a roommate and that Ghosts in Gotham don't move far from their haunts- He's just been inadvertently turning these undead folks visible by accident of generating abnormal amounts of ectoplasm.

Which, is comforting in a way, he's never walking this dangerous city alone and really, most of the ghosts have been really friendly! They disappear once he's a few blocks away from them anyway.

---

Tim Drake is having a horrible day.

He'd been given intel that one of Black Mask's guys was going to snitch but that he'd died before given the opportunity to reach out to the GCPD. He tracks down the guy's last know whereabouts and yikes. Its next to the Theater. Tim was often grateful for his childhood obsessions, this time it backfired.

Tim and Bruce get into an argument about trust and respect and, worst of all, mental health. And even though Tim was vehemently against Batman accompanying Red Robin to the alleyway - that's exactly what happens.

They arrive and Bruce is closing up faster than a clam in the contaminated Gotham Bay- Clearly being in the Alley bothers him. No fucking shit. RR gets started on collecting evidence, there are a few extra blood splatters and a single left shoe... When a kid walks into the Alley.

"Uh, sorry to intrude-" The kid looks scared shitless, and runs away. And then, all of a sudden, Batman and Robin aren't alone in the Alley.

Tim can hardly believe his eyes as the dead man appears and quickly blabs Black Mask's bank passwords and what the plan had been- and While he's over joyed to have that closure, he turns around to Batman weeping in the arms of his parents.

The ghosts fade, and the emotions are certainly charged as this was never something Bruce or Tim would have ever dreamed of happening. Ghosts in Gotham. Talking, floating, granting closure.

"RR, Bats, come in." Oracle calls into their ears.

"Reporting in, but, uh, we need a minute."

"A minute? We have a case on 4th and-"

"O, we just saw the ghosts of the Waynes. It's going to be a minute."

"...Lots of Ghost reports lately then. Any chance you saw a kid looking like he could be adopted?"

"Yeah, actually, black hair and blue eyes. He was super polite before he ran away."

"We have work to do. Oracle, lets prioritize finding our person of interest and divert Nightwing and Robin to the case on 4th." Batman cut between them on the comms and he sounded... calmer than either of them anticipated.

---

Jazz is no longer laughing when Batman appears at her door explaining that he's looking for Danny (Who already flew away from town to get a good night's sleep before class on Monday). Turns out Danny reunited the man with his dead parents just briefly- and then the second guy appears and mentions how Danny had also given a guy who'd been murdered by a Mob enough time to explain the ongoing threats the city faced.

Jazz just rolls her eyes and says that it's not like the ghosts are going anywhere anytime soon and Danny will visit in another month. When pressed, she just explains that her brother is a weirdo. No of course he doesn't have powers. Gaslight and Girlbosses her way out.

And Jazz thinks that the game is up for at least another month, obviously when Danny visits more shit will stir up, but then this new guy appears.

Unlike the other Bats who are keen on watching her from a distance, the Red Hood knocks on her door. Are her eyebrows all the way into her hairline when Red Hood asks her to send his thanks along to Danny because somehow this whole situation led to his Dad expressing remorse for his actions and apologizing? Yes, yes they are.

But Jazz can smell Dissertation Data off of these vigilantes- Who is she to send them away? Jazz welcomes Red Hood into her place for a cup of tea and a small chat.

The story then devolves into Jazz getting shit done, Danny being cute by proximity and also bringing ghosts to the party, and the Bats having trauma resolve between them.

#dcxdp #dpxdc #dc x dp #dp x dc #danny phantom #dc crossover #dp crossover #long post #danny can make ghosts appear like they do in amity but only for a short while and when in proximity to him #its not apparent in amity because the ghosts are just like that there #Danny just having a good time #Danny having zero brain cells about this whole thing and neither he nor jazz will offer explanations #they're just like 'gotham has ghosts. its not like he put them there' #Bruce getting into therapy because his dead parents said they were proud of him and he didnt know how to handle that #bruce having to turn this energy around somehow and seeing jason - my boy i love you so much and im so sorry and im so proud of you #heres the thing i dont know how i made it anger management ship at the end but i sure as fuck did. #jason is at a lack of words at bruce's confessions of pride and love but is also about to be a BAT about this and track down info #info in the form of a cute girl #oh yeah she has a brother #uh well #he has brothers too- this is fine #someone write this fic pls n thx u

[dilemmaontwolegs]

Summer in the 305 || LS2

Pairing: Logan Sergeant x fem!reader Summary: Logan comes home to Miami (305) for the summer break and you surprise him by meeting him at the airport. Warnings: fluff, doggo parents, hints of sexual tension. WC: 1.7k F1 Masterlist || One || Two || Three

No one noticed you as you sat half asleep in an oversized hoodie on a bench, assuming you were just another weary traveler in Miami International Airport. The arrival lounge had been busy when you arrived hours earlier but it had grown quieter and quieter as the night grew so late it could have been considered morning. Logan was meant to have landed at 11pm and he would have expected you to be at home fast asleep but you had wanted to surprise him.

The surprise came fittingly at 3:05 when the frosted glass doors opened with the next disembarkation of passengers, led by Logan as he desperately tried to get home to you sooner. Your eyes were burning from forcing them to remain open for the extra four hours that his flight was delayed and you rubbed them as you rose from the bench. 

Caps and shirts were thrust in his path but he was too polite to decline a fan so he paused to sign his autograph and nearly jumped out of his skin when your fingers wrapped around the handle of his suitcase. The shout to call for security almost passed his lips, thinking he was being robbed, before his sleepy brain recognised you.

“Sweetheart, what are you doing here?” he asked as a grin chased away the exhaustion on his face and he bundled you into his arms.

You kept one hand on his luggage since there was a crowd starting to gather but the other curled around his back and your head tucked into the crook of his neck. “I wanted to surprise you. I missed you.”

Logan pressed his lips to your forehead until you tipped your head back and he captured your lips as cameras flashed. “I missed you too.”

Thankfully it wasn’t always like this and most of the time when he came home to Miami you were left in relative peace. It was a different story when you went with him to the races, those were full-on mobs of Williams fans that demanded almost all his attention. “Go on, babe, finish up signing those so we can go home.”

The pen flew across whatever passed in front of him before he caught you struggling to hide your yawn and made an apology as he handed a boarding pass back with his autograph before waving. “Thanks for the support everyone.”

There was a collective groan from those who had missed out but Logan was focusing on taking back his luggage with one hand and draping the other over your shoulders as you fell into step.

“Looks like the 305 missed you too,” you commented as his hand lifted every now and again to wave at the younger fans until you reached his Range Rover you borrowed for the night. “There’s a treat waiting for you at home.”

His hand found your thigh as he started the engine and sent you a smirk as it drifted higher. “Yeah, sweetheart?”

“Not that,” you giggled, turning down the music that had played loudly while you drove. Logan enjoyed a quieter atmosphere when he was at the wheel, one where he could hold a conversation. “I wasn’t sure if you had eaten so I picked up some Carbone’s. I will admit I had to name drop, but they wouldn’t make a takeaway order otherwise.”

His warm laugh filled the SUV. “Did they even know who I was?”

“Of course! Everyone knows the hometown hero.” You leaned across the console and kissed his cheek, feeling the short prickles of his blond beard on your lips. “Are you planning on giving me beard burn, Lo?”

“This is all the rage in Europe. You don’t like it?” he asked as he ran his fingers over the three day growth. You weren’t sure if he was playing with you or not before a grin split his face and you sighed with relief. “Don’t worry, honey, I just haven’t had a minute spare to shave it this week.”

By the time 4:00 am arrived you should have been dead on your feet, but having Logan home energised you almost as much as Sooty. The black labrador scarpered all over the polished wooden floor when he saw his daddy walk in the door, his paws struggling to find traction in his excitement.

“There’s my good boy, come to daddy,” Logan cooed as he dropped his suitcase and caught the bounding dog as he jumped up. “Have you been protecting, mommy? Yeah? Of course, you have, you’re such a good boy.”

“He never gives me that kind of welcome home,” you joked as you locked the door and wheeled the suitcase down the hall to the bedroom.

A pair of hands came to rest on your waist as you emptied the entire case into the laundry hamper, knowing he wouldn’t have had the time to do it himself. His lips brushed over your nape before finding their way to your jaw as he turned you in his arms. “But you don’t go missing for weeks at a time.”

Hooking your arms around his neck you nodded in agreement as Sooty padded into the room with his favourite toy, dropping it at Logan’s feet.

“Someone has to be the stay-at-home parent in this relationship,” you chuckled, releasing him so he could pick up the squeaky toy.

“Not tonight, Soot, we’ll play in the morning,” he said, giving you a quick kiss with the promise of more. “Let me put him to bed, leave everything else until morning, sweetheart.”

He disappeared down the hall to the living room where Sooty’s bed was set up, but whenever Logan was away you would let him sneak into bed with you. You always slept better when you could cuddle something warm, but you definitely preferred waking up to Logan’s morning kisses than Sooty’s slobbery ones when he wants to be fed.

“Lay down, buddy,” you heard Logan’s quiet words in the still of the night. “You can take a break from looking after mommy, you did such a good job for me, yes you did.” You heard a smooch followed by a soft whine as Logan turned off the lights, then the pitter patter of paws. “Back to bed, Soot. Good boy.”

You heard the bedroom door close before Logan stepped into the ensuite, leaning against the doorway while you filled the sink with warm water. You returned the smile you found in the mirror and patted the marble vanity top before searching the drawers for his cut throat razor.

“It doesn’t look that bad, does it?” he half joked as he jumped up onto the bench, parting his legs so you could step between them.

“You could have a 70’s porn ‘stache and I would still think you are handsome,” you promised, making him laugh.

He tipped his head back as you soaked a face cloth in the warm water and squeezed the excess out before placing it over his face. “This is my favourite part of coming home.”

“Out of everything we do when you’re home, this is your favourite?”

His laugh made the face cloth fall away but it had probably been there long enough to open his pores so you lathered up the shaving cream next and massaged it over his cheeks and down his neck, feeling the thick cords of muscles beneath your palms.

“Okay, third favourite,” he corrected as his hands shifted from where he leaned back down on them to curl around your waist and rest comfortably on the swell of your ass. “But it’s still up there.”

“You are a strange man, Lo. I don’t think most people enjoy having a blade to their throat,” you murmured as you opened the razor and tilted his head to the side. 

“I trust you.”

“Thank you. Now no more talking.”

He didn’t dare make a sound or even swallow as you angled the blade against his cheekbone and started to glide it carefully down to his jaw before rinsing it off in the sink. He kept perfectly still for you but you were hyper aware of his eyes scanning your face for any little changes he might have missed while he was away, re-committing it all to his memory for the next time he left. 

You closed the blade up after finishing his throat last and placed it on the side before grabbing the face cloth and wiping away the excess shaving cream. Running a palm over his jawline you nodded at the silky smooth skin and took a kiss as payment before handing him the bottle of aftershave. “All done, handsome.”

By the time you had turned down the bed, and changed into one of his shirts, the light leaking in around the edges of the curtains started to turn pink as dawn approached. Your eyelids were heavy but your heart was light as Logan climbed in his side and wrapped his body around your back, the weight of his arm reassuring on your waist and his leg wedged between yours. 

“Come with me,” he murmured sleepily. 

You could hardly coordinate a reply as your lips quivered with a suppressed yawn until it finally passed. “Where?”

“Everywhere: Zandvoort, Monza, Singapore, all of them.” You felt his small shrug before his arm tightened around you and he kissed your shoulder. “I hate being away from you.”

Your immediate reply was to admit how much you hated the distance too but that would only make him feel worse if you couldn’t join him. “What about Sooty?”

“Hamilton brings Roscoe to some races, or maybe Mom can look after him…you don’t have to give me an answer now, sweetheart. We have three weeks to think about it.”

“I want to,” you said as you laced your fingers with his and drew his hand up your body so it was tucked into the valley of your breasts where your heart beat steadily in your relaxed state, “but we can talk about more in the morning.”

He nodded and pressed another kiss to your skin, the touch smooth and soothing thanks to the close shave. “Sweet dreams, honey.”

“Hmm, you too,” you said as your muscles relaxed even further and your tongue barely moved. “Love you, Lo.”

His voice followed you into your dreams and you smiled as it took hold in a future you couldn’t wait to see come to life, “I love you too.”

Click here for part two.

Taglist {1}: @moonvr @copper-boom @yunnie-f1 @ophcelia @lightsoutletsgo @alwaysclassyeagle @neiich @omgsuperstarg @starwarssavy23 @fdl305 @faeb1tch42069 @sweetestrose569 @pleasantducktimetravel @dr3lover @writerscurse @christianpulisic10 @alexisquinnlee-bc @purplephantomwolf @belennasif @ryiamarie @mickslover @tyna-19  @destourtereaux @sunf1ower16 @octaviareina @laneyspaulding19 @booknerd2004-blog @mimimarvelingmarvel @chonkybonky @jpg3  @bangtanxberm @ohthemisssery @eviethetheatrefreak @kimi240302 @andydrysdalerogers @formula1mount @storyteller-le @dakotali @daddyslittlevillain @elijahslover @darleneslane @alex0808 @dhhdhsiavdhaj @glow-ish @hollie911 @lazybot @blueflorals @styles-sunflower @charlesswife

#logan sargeant x reader #logan sargeant imagine #logan sargeant fanfiction #Logan sargeant x you #logan sargeant #Logan sargeant x y/n #f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #f1 x y/n #f1 x you

[carolperkinsexgirlfriend]

Steddie Upside-Down AU Part 48

Part 1 Part 47

The nostalgia of the morning cannot be overstated for Steve. Sure, the fight over the bathroom is more cramped than it used to be, and Eddie’s much grumpier in the mornings than Tommy’s ever been. And yeah, Eddie doesn’t have enough spare toothbrushes, so Steve has to fake disgust when Carol snatches his out of his hand and starts brushing her own teeth with nary a rinse-off.

Carol digs through Eddie’s drawers until she finds a shirt ripped up enough that tucking it into yesterday’s jeans looks like a purposeful statement instead of a walk-of-shame look, ignoring Eddie’s squawking. Steve does the same, and by the time they stumble into the morning dressed and ready, Eddie looks like he’s adopted a couple preps he’s converted to his demonic metal ways. It’s Carol’s hair – too perky by halves. 

And yeah, Uncle Wayne is sitting at the table, eyebrows raised like he’s trying to figure out the minutiae of the three of them coming out of his nephew’s room bright and early on a random Tuesday morning. Sleepovers at Steve or Tommy’s never involved any sort of parental oversight, and one’s at Carol’s involved everyone sneaking out of the window to avoid the breakfast table all together.

“Didn’t make enough toast,” Uncle Wayne mutters tiredly, even as his eyes vertifiably twinkle over his mug as he looks between the three of them before settling onto his nephew.

Eddie, never a morning person even on the best of days, slumps down in his customary chair, thumping his forehead down on the table with a groan. 

Carol scoffs, scooping up a piece of toast and eggs onto one of the two empty plates laid out, glaring at Eddie as she takes a ferocious bite. Then, seemingly remembering her manners, she smiles over at Uncle Wayne like butter wouldn’t melt and sweetly says, “thank you, Uncle Wayne.”

Steve goes to the counter, shoving two more pieces of bread in the toaster and waiting impatiently for them to pop back up. 

Behind him, Eddie’s near-snoring into his eggs, snuffling. Steve turns around, smiling as Uncle Wayne elbows him in the ribs. “Introduce me to your friend, boy.”

“Not my friend,” Eddie mutters. Steve turns back force the half-baked toas up and out of the toaster impatiently just as Eddie hurriedly continues, “but this is Carol Perkins! Steve’s–”

“Best friend,” Carol says. Steve slides back over to them, leaning against the fridge to watch the show, unwilling to slink off into the living room when there’s a show to be had. He eats both pieces dry, choking it down with a glass of orange juice he pours from the fridge.

He downs the cup, wiping his juice-mustache, before meeting Uncle Wayne’s judgemental eyes. “Don’t have room for another stow-away.”

Carol chokes on her eggs as Steve laughs. “This one will be leaving,” he says.

Everyone ignores Eddie grumbling quietly under his breath. “Aww, Stevie,” she says, pouting up at him and lowering one of her eyelids mockingly. “You trying to get rid of little old me?”

Steve rolls his eyes, turning his back to rinse out his juice cup before putting it carefully on the rack to dry. “Whatever,” he mutters, walking past the table to go snag their backpacks from Eddie’s room, stomping out of the trailer with a called, “bye, Uncle Wayne!” to wait for the other two by the van.

Eddie comes stumbling out, clearly being pushed along by an unmerciful Carol. He slides into the driver’s seat just as Steve’s buckling his seatbelt. Instead of settling down in the back, Carol sits between them on the floor, bickering with Eddie over what cassette they should play.

When they park, Carol barely waits for the van to come to a complete stop before jumping out and skipping off, blowing a kiss over her shoulder just before she melds into the mob that is the student body at large.

Steve and Eddie sit in silence for a moment, reveling in the silence, like the echoing quiet after a bomb has gone off. Or when the cops come, and someone cuts the music at a party.

“What a freak,” Eddie says. He sounds like he can’t decide between being impressed or disgusted by her, unsure where he’s going to land.

Steve laughs, sliding out of the car himself, following in Carol’s wake. The day passes, Steve rides the wave of it, a buoy on the waves that never quiet settles into one spot.

It’s not Carol who sits at their table at lunch, but a Nancy-less Jonathan. Steve smiles absently at him as he squeezes between Steve and Eddie, eyes shifting over to his old table. Carol’s already there, whispering heatedly into Tommy’s ear. He looks sullen, eyebrows pinched and mouth sneering the way it always does when someone tells him something he doesn’t want to hear. Carol smack him with the back of her hand, hard in the arm until he leans away, full-on scowling as she continues to scold him.

It doesn’t take a genius to guess the topic of their conversation, especially after Tommy’s eyes lock with Steve’s across the busy lunchroom. Their gazes hold. Tommy looks serious, sad in a way he rarely is, even more rarely lets show in public. Steve’s heart shudders, the long-buried desire for the past rearing its head.

But then Jonathan leans into him, whispers, “I think we should tell someone,” and Steve glances his way.

When he looks back, Tommy’s turned away entirely, slamming the contents of his tray into the trash as he stalks out of the cafeteria entirely. Steve looks back to Carol, who meets his eyes with a snarl on her face, shrugging, like she’s indifferent to Tommy’s reaction. Steve sighs, looking away.

“Tell someone what?” Steve asks quietly.

Jonathan leans closer, lowering his voice even further. “About your weird powers,” Jonathan replies, the “duh” silent but heavily implied by his tone.

Steve scrunches his nose up, looking over Jonathan’s head at Eddie, who looks just as baffled as he is. “…who?” Eddie asks, just as Steve says, “why?”

Jonathan looks back and forth between them, his eyes just as intense as usual. “The lab people contacted Mom,” he says, mouth barely moving. “They wanted to check up on Will, see how he’s doing.”

Steve looks at Eddie over Jonathan’s hunched shoulders. For once, he can’t tell what Eddie’s thinking. Can’t even tell what he’s thinking himself besides a visceral reaction of wrong wrong wrong that makes him want to curl up in a ball somewhere dark and small.

“Uh, they experimented on a kid, dude,” Eddie says, scoffing. “No way in hell should we trust them with any further weirdness.”

“They what?” Steve demands.

Eddie waves his hand placatingly. “Later, Stevie,” he says, not taking his eyes away from Jonathan. “If Mama Byers wants to trust shady government goons, you shouldn’t tell her either.”

Jonathan looks down at the table. Steve notices he hadn’t even bothered to grab lunch before sitting down. He scoots his own food closer to Jonathan, feels relieved when he immediately steals a couple fries.

“But what if she makes him go?” Jonathan whispers around the fry in his mouth. “What if there’s something actually wrong with Will?” Left unsaid, is that if something’s wrong with Will, there’s something wrong with all three of them.

The tight ball of Steve’s emotions curls up tighter, constricting his throat until it’s hard to choke out, “we’ll go with him.”

Eddie squawks, “what?” incredulously, leaning over Jonathan like he wants to shake Steve where he sits. Their friends quiet around the table, staring over at them, attention caught from Eddie’s shocked outburst. Eddie smiles nervously around the table before murmuring from the side of his mouth, “fucking fine!”

Steve slumps, relieved. Disappointed. Stressed enough that his organs are eating themselves inside him.

He eats a fry, like a normal boy on a normal Tuesday lunchtime would do. “Let us know what she decides to do,” he demands.

Jonathan nods. He spends the rest of lunch taking up space between them. A Byers is a Byers is a Byers, but Steve can’t help spending the rest of lunch tugging at the tie between him and Will, hoping the kid is okay.

Part 49

Taglist: @deany-baby @estrellami-1 @altocumulustranslucidus @evillittleguy @carlprocastinator1000 @1-8oo-wtfbro @hallucinatedjosten @goodolefashionedloverboi @newtstabber @lunabyrd @cinnamon-mushroomabomination @manda-panda-monium @disrespectedgoatman @finntheehumaneater @ive-been-bamboozled @harringrieve @grimmfitzz @is-emily-real @dontstealmycake @angeldreamsoffanfic @a-couchpotato @5ammi90 @mac-attack19 @genderless-spoon @kas-eddie-munson @louismeds @imhereforthelolzdontyellatme @pansexuality-activated @ellietheasexylibrarian @nebulainajar @mightbeasleep @neonfruitbowl @beth--b @silenzioperso

#steddie upsidedown au #steddie fic #eddie munson #steve harrington #my fic

[janeyseymour]

Fix This Mess Before You Lose Me

hello! an anon asked for this!

summary: your harbored feelings for a certain redhead make themselves known. she flat out rejects you, but she realizes how egregiously she's screwed up once you start distancing yourself from her. she has to fix this mess.

WC: ~3.95k

You’ve been working at Willard R. Abbott Elementary for the last… three years. And genuinely, you love teaching here. 

The kids are… well, they’re kids. They have their moments of being little shits, as all kids are from time to time, but they have a rich appreciation for what you teachers provide, and they understand just how hard you all work to keep them afloat. You go above and beyond to make sure that they are well cared for both inside and outside of the school, and that does not get past them. You’ve had kids tell you that you are their hero, that you’re like a second parent to them, that they hope to be like you when you grow up. You know you made the right choice teaching in an underfunded district and area because you are genuinely making the biggest difference in some of these kiddos’ lives- and that is all you could’ve ever hoped for. 

But aside from the kids, you absolutely adore your colleagues. Ava, although she’s always up to some sort of shenanigans that you have to help get her out of, truly does what she thinks is best for these kids- even if it’s not necessarily something you would take out of the principal handbook. Mr. Johnson, one of history’s biggest enigmas as far as you and most of your coworkers are concerned, is a giant part of Abbott’s history and culture. Jacob Hill, the dorky middle grades teacher who has somehow made his way into the elementary group, is always the first to offer you something when you aren’t feeling well- as long as it’s natural and herbal. Gregory Eddie, although perhaps the most quiet of the group, has a kind soul and shows you that he cares for you rather than speaking it. Janine Teagues, the upbeat second grade teacher who practically bounces everywhere she goes, is always so excited to see you and makes you feel seen and heard. Barbara Howard, perhaps the classiest lady that you have ever met, is always there to pick you up when you need it. And Melissa Schemmenti? While she loves to give off that she is a hard ass, mob-like woman, she has a heart of gold underneath all of the leather and eyeliner. She made you prove yourself upon signing your contract with the district, but once she deemed you worthy, you were stuck to her like glue. She makes sure you are well fed (providing you with a homemade Schemmenti meal almost every day), she is always asking if you need any copies made (under the guise of getting Ashley out of her room), there’s always a fresh cup of coffee for you when you need it (she’ll always claim that she needed it too, just a coincidence), and you genuinely think that if it came to it she would take a bullet for you.

If you’re being really honest with yourself, you find yourself attracted to the second grade teacher that you share a wall with. Sure, she’s hot as hell- you can’t deny that- but what you’re really attracted to is her personality. You love when you both have your doors open and you can hear her praising her students. You love when you both come out and simply stand next to each other, both with steaming hot mugs of coffee in your hands, to greet your children in the morning. You swoon when she leans against your doorframe and knocks with her signature knock to get your attention during prep periods. It’s the way that she always seems to know when you need a break, because she can hear the tension in your voice when one of your kids is testing you, and she comes over to ‘ask for a cup of coffee’ and tells you that she’ll stand in between both doorframes if you wouldn’t mind running down and getting it for her. You love the way that she is fiercely protective over those who are in her circle, and you are included in that.

So yeah, it’s safe to say that the feelings that you harbor for the fiery redheaded second grade teacher are quite strong. And for the most part, she seems to reciprocate them. The relationship that the two of you have isn’t at all like her and Barbara, who are like two peas in a pod and are as Ava puts it, “heterosexual work wives for life”. It isn’t the like her relationship with Janine in the way that she is like the chaotic wine aunt with Barbara being Janine’s mother. She’s much like Jacob’s aunt too. And it isn’t like her relationship with Gregory, which you don’t see much of but you know is a strong one. It’s more… domestic, soft, loving.

And it’s gotten to a point that you see her outside of school now too- she enjoys going shopping with you- something that she apparently only used to do with Barbara. You and the redhead lesson plan together at local coffee shops because you’re on the same team, but those coffee shop dates never have Janine involved despite the fact that she’s also on your team. She loves making dinner with you while the two of you split a bottle of wine. 

And that’s exactly where you’re at now: on her front step, clad in a pair of joggers and a frumpy jean jacket with a bottle of champagne in your hand to celebrate the fact that you were both able to complete your report cards for the marking period in time. There are butterflies in your stomach as she opens the door, and you can’t help but smile as she wears an outfit that is similar to yours.

“Hey, hun,” she smiles at you as she nods her head. Her eyes go up and down at your figure. “C’mon in. I have the stroganoff started, so all you have to do is sit your pretty little self down while I make you a fantastic meal.”

You playfully roll your eyes at her comment but follow her inside. She sets the champagne flutes next to you as you expertly pop it and pour the glasses. You raise yours up, as does she.

“To a weekend of no grading and worrying about getting report cards in,” you sigh happily.

“To us,” is all she says, but it makes your heart absolutely melt.

She finishes up dinner while the two of you chat about your days and the absolutely ridiculous things that your kids said and did today.

(“Dylan said, ‘Oh, what the fuck?’ when he was trying to read his book and sounding out the word wasn’t helping,” you snort.

“You think that’s bad?” Melissa turns to you. “Kenneth decided he needed a haircut as we were packing up. It’s a miracle I got home in time to make dinner.”)

It’s plated before you know it, and the meal in front of you smells absolutely delicious. Once you’ve both cleared your plates, you find yourself on the couch again- the one that you got her to finally take the ridiculously uncomfortable plastic cover off of- as she feeds you cannolis.

It’s so warm and soft… and with the bit of liquid courage that you have from the champagne, you lean in and kiss her.

But when you expect her to kiss back, she doesn’t. You pull away, and she’s frozen, eyes wide with shock.

“Y/N?”

“I-” you blush. “I thought that- I- I have feelings for you, and I thought that with everything that we’ve been doing, you had feelings for me, and I- I’m sorry. I guess I misinterpreted.”

“Uh, yeah,” she states rather bluntly. “You did.”

You sigh and stand. “I’ll see myself out.”

“No, hun, you don’t have-”

“No, I know when my presence isn’t wanted or when I need to head out, and now is one of those moments,” you state as you grab your things and practically run for the door. You close it and are in your car before she can do anything. She’s about to reach for the door knob when she sees you peel out of her driveway.

You don’t know how you make it home. It’s pouring buckets outside, and the tears that started to fall once you pulled out of your coworker’s driveway only continue to flow. You curl up in bed after mixing yourself a rather strong drink, and you cry. You mourn the loss of a wonderful friendship and a rejection from possibly the most beautiful person on the planet.

You spend the weekend in bed, ignoring any and all communication from the outside world- including the text from Melissa apologizing for her reaction, and she hopes nothing changes between the two of you.

Come Monday, you entirely pull back, changing your morning routines as much as you hate to do that. You do not want to have to see the second grade teacher who practically laughed in your face when you told her you had feelings for her. You show up to work as early as possible, throw your lunch in the refrigerator and head out as soon as you can to just narrowly avoid the redhead. You forgo hanging out in the staff lounge to catch up on some work that you would usually do in the comfort of Melissa’s home while she makes you dinner. You keep your door closed and your lights off while you prepare for the students, and when it’s time for them to start trickling in is when you finally open your door. You usually stand outside your door to greet your kids, but doing that means you would see the woman that you are actively avoiding- so you stay inside. You don’t dare to head out of your classroom until you see her class pass you for special, and then when you make your way back to your classroom, you close and lock the door. During your lunch period, you absolutely book it in and out of the room, acting as though you’re on the phone to avoid any sort of confrontation from the other teachers. And you’re out of the building at the end of the day before anyone can find you or say anything.

“Have you seen Y/N?” Barbara asks her best friend.

“No,” the redhead shrugs. “She’s been pretty out of sight today.” She isn’t willing to admit just yet that she’s the reason you are avoiding everyone. She isn’t ready for the speech that Barbara will no doubt give her about how she should’ve been more sensitive towards you and your feelings- she’s well aware that she didn’t handle the situation properly. She also knows that sometimes you need a day when your feelings are too big for your body to handle. So she doesn’t seek you out. 

She half-expects you to show up at dinner that night, and she does end up making extra in case you do show. You don’t. For the first time on a Monday in a long time, she ends up eating dinner alone. And it’s… not a pleasant feeling. She finds that she misses being able to decompress with you like she usually does. She really misses it.

Melissa has a half a mind to text you, but you hadn’t answered her text over the weekend. She doubts you’ll answer this one.

Still, she sends, Missed having you over for dinner tonight.

You see that text and wonder why she’s taunting you. She rejected you, especially the way that she did, and she still expected you over for dinner? You knew she was crazy, but not that crazy. 

That week passes, and you do everything in your power to avoid her and her friends. It just hurts too much. 

Finally, the following week, Janine seeks you out while you’re putting your lunch away- or rather, she stumbles upon you. She has her hands filled, but that doesn’t stop her from smiling in your direction.

“Hey, Y/N!” the second grade teacher that didn’t reject you grins. “Where have you been lately?”

You shrug. “Just have a lot of stuff going on at the moment.”

“Well, when it starts to dwindle down, you should really start hanging out with us again! We miss you and all the spunk you bring to the group.”

You have to laugh at that. You don’t know what spunk she’s talking about. You hardly say anything when you’re with them because you can’t get a word in between her and Jacob. You mostly just take it all in, and occasionally you add a snarky comment, getting head nods of approvals or full out belly laughs from the two veteran teachers that you used to love spending time with. 

“Yeah,” you hum noncommittally. You know you won’t ever be a part of that group again. “Well, I gotta go get some work done.”

Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday pass as the prior week had for you. But on Wednesday, as you’re leaving, Barbara corners you.

“Sweetheart, where on Earth have you been?”

“Busy,” you tell her quietly as you continue to gather your various bags. 

She raises a brow. “Doing?”

“Schoolwoork really started piling up on me,” you say softly. “And I’ve been applying to graduate schools… and other jobs.”

“Other jobs?” she asks you, clearly shocked. “I thought you loved it here.”

“I do,” you mumble. “But I don’t know how much longer I can work here.”

“And why would that be?”

You purse your lips, but you don’t respond. You just simply give her a shrug of your shoulders as you avoid eye contact.

“Y/N, can I tell you what I’ve been observing?” at your nod, she continues. “Something happened last weekend… between you and Melissa, I’m assuming?”

You nod slowly.

“So you’ve been avoiding all of us,” the kindergarten teacher states. “Because you believe that we are Melissa’s friends and not yours. You assume that leaving her alone and distancing yourself from her will be better than continuing on as you have.”

Again, you nod.

“But what I’ve observed from my work wife is that she’s angry. She’s upset that you’re avoiding her. She misses you.”

“Maybe she shouldn’t have laughed in my face when I told her I had feelings for her,” you mutter, not thinking the veteran teacher heard you. You clear your throat before speaking more clearly. “I’m sorry- I’ve just been busy. I haven’t been avoiding her.”

“You have, and we both know it,” Barbara clicks her tongue. “She and I spoke about what happened at lunch today, and-”

“She told the group?”

“She only told me when I cornered her to ask her why you haven’t been around and why she’s been pitching a damn fit at Janine lately.”

“What do you mean she’s pitching a fit at Janine?” you furrow a brow.

Barbara smirks and crosses her arms over her chest. “It means that Janine mentioned talking to you the other day, and Melissa is jealous she caught you before she could.”

“She can get over it,” you sigh. “I have to go, Barb. Have a nice night.” You brush past her as she flounders for her words, and then she’s heading into Melissa’s room.

“Why did you reject her?” Barbara asks softly.

Melissa shrugs. “I- I’m me… I’m a none-your-business year old woman, and she’s so young. She’s gorgeous- and I know I tell everyone I’m a Philly eleven, but you and I both know that’s me hiding my insecurities about my looks and body. I just… if I thought if I gave into my feelings for her and then she left, I would be a wreck- it’s just not worth the risk.”

“Tell me something,” the kindergarten teacher asks. “Do you really think she would leave you? That girl practically worships the ground that you walk on and follows you around with puppy dog eyes.”

“I don’t know,” the redhead sighs quietly. “I just… don’t have much to offer. She has the rest of her life ahead of her to settle down, get married, have kids if she wants. I can only offer her two of those things.”

“I know for a fact Y/N isn’t deadset on getting married or having kids, and I know she would want to settle down with you,” Barbara tuts. “I think she’s worth the risk for you, Melissa. And if you don’t come to a conclusion quick, you may lose her anyway and be a wreck anyway.”

“I don’t know,” the second grade teacher mumbles. “All I’ll tell you is if you don’t act quick, she’s going to transfer, and you’ll lose her forever.” And then Barb turns on her heel and exits the classroom. “Think about it!” she calls over her shoulder.

Of course, those words throw Melissa for a loop. The redhead doesn’t want to lose you forever. She grabs her bags and books it to her car. She knows what she has to do. She stops at the wine store and picks up your favorite bottle before heading to the grocery store and picking up a beautiful bouquet of flowers. She’s pulling up to your townhouse before she knows it. With shaking hands, she grabs the flowers and wine and knocks on your front door. 

You open it, not quite sure who to expect- it might be Barbara, it could even just be the mailman. But no. It’s Melissa.

You sniffle quietly, refusing to make eye contact with her. “You come to laugh in my face some more?”

“No,” she says softly as she holds out the flowers and wine for you. “I came to apologize and grovel, and beg you to stop avoiding me.”

“I’m not avoiding you,” you sigh as you lean against the door, folding your arms over you chest- you won’t take the bouquet and bottle. “I’m just… slowly fading myself out of the school.”

“Please don’t do that,” she whispers, and you swear you hear the low voice crack just slightly. “Please. You’re the best we have at Abbott.”

“I can go be the best at another local school,” you breathe. “I love the kids, but I know I’ll love the kids anywhere I go, and I won’t feel terrible with my coworkers like I do right now.”

“Y/N,” Melissa pleads. “Please.”

“What?” you bite back, and you can’t help but feel a little bad at the way she flinches at your sharp voice. “Why would I stay and feel the awful rejection everyday? Please explain to me why I would stay and grovel when I could go somewhere else where I won’t feel like an absolute idiot for falling for-”

She cuts you off, throwing the bottle of wine and the bouquet of flowers on your couch by the front door, before grabbing you and kissing you deeply.

You push her away. “Don’t. You already rejected me, and I made my peace with it. Don’t do this because you want me to stay at Abbott.”

“Y/N, hun,” Melissa starts, but you cut her off.

“I’m sorry, but you don’t get to call me hun anymore,” you state. 

She nods dejectedly. “Y/N, I’m not doing this because I just want you to stay at Abbott… I mean, I do want you to stay at Abbott, but that’s not why I’m here.”

“Then why are you?”

“Because… I was an idiot to reject you the other night, and I was rude the way I did it. The truth is…” she scratches the back of her head as she tries to think of how she’s going to confess her feelings to you. “The truth is: I have feelings for you too. I always have. But I buried them so far down because I thought that you would never reciprocate those feelings-”

“So when I kissed you and told you that I had feelings for you, that wasn’t clear enough?” you raise a brow.

“-I thought that you would never reciprocate those feelings,” she repeats. “I also thought that if we ever did decide to date, because of my track record with relationships, it would end in flames. And I would never want anything with you to end up in flames.”

“I’d say this past week did,” you retort. 

“Will you stop with the snarky comments and just let me try to explain myself?!” the redhead snaps a little.

You roll your eyes but gesture for her to continue.

“I would be destroyed if whatever we have between us was ruined,” she says softly. “And… if I’m being honest, I was hesitant because of my own self-doubt. I- I haven’t had great relationships in the past- ended up in divorce and a failed proposal. I know I say that I’m a Philly Eleven, but I’m masking the insecurities I have over my looks when I know that you are the true Philly Eleven at Abbott. I- I don’t have much to offer. I don’t go out and party, I don’t want to get married, I’m past the age of having kids of my own… but you? You’re a gorgeous woman with a good head on your shoulders and your whole life ahead of you. All I can offer is some damn good food and wine, and maybe a trivia night here or there if I’m not exhausted and overstimulated from my kids.”

“So you came here to tell me why you could never date me?” you ask.

“I came here to swallow my pride and tell you that even with all of my hesitations and doubts, I’m willing to take the risk and jump… for you,” she bites her lip and looks to you nervously. “If you’re still willing to have me.”

“I-” you unfold your arms and open them. She’s embracing you immediately, and you cling to her as though she’s all that’s holding you to this earth. When you pull back though, you’re frowning.

“So… I guess this is where I accept that after I rejected you, you reject-”

You roll your eyes and press your lips to hers gently. When you pull away, you tell her what you’ve been up to for the past week and a half. “I did apply to other schools in the area… I have an interview tomorrow after work.”

“Cancel it. Stay at Abbott where you belong. Stay with me,” she says quickly. “Please.”

You nod. “Well, come in,” you tell her. “If I’m going to be cancelling this interview, I’m gonna need a nice Schemmenti meal and some wine to get up the courage to email them a ‘regretful’ apology that I’ve decided that I’m right where I belong.”

Come the next day, Melissa drives the two of you into work. You resume what you missed so much the last week- your usual morning routine. You make the coffee while she puts your lunches away, and then she fixes the coffee as you turn on the television to watch the morning news. When everyone else trickles in, they’re delighted to be graced with your presence again. 

“All caught up on your work?” Janine grins as she takes a seat on one of the couches.

You smile back at her from your place next to Melissa. “Yeah, something like that.”

Only Barbara knows the real reason that you’re back to hanging out with your school crew- and she can’t wait to hear about all of the juicy gossip after school today when her and Melissa go shopping in the clearance section of the mall. She smiles to herself as she sips her coffee and gives her work wife a head nod in approval of her decisions.

#melissa schemmenti fanfiction #melissa schemmenti #melissa schemmenti fanfic #melissa schemmenti x you #melissa schemmenti x reader #abbott elementary fanfic #abbott elementary fanfiction #abbott elementary

[fangirlwriting-stories]

Easier When Unknown

Summary: Danny could have imagined his life would be interesting after everyone learned his secret, but he didn't think it would be this different.

Author's Note: A phic phight fanfiction! Here are the two prompts:

AU where no one knew Danny was Phantom until PP (or some alternate big reveal of the author's choice). Sam and Tucker are sure that a famous hero like Danny Phantom is too cool to be their friend again, especially since they haven't talked since before freshman year of high school. Danny just wants to be part of the trio again and has no idea how to ask.

Danny finds out that Sam's been being bullied at school and has been hiding it from him and Tucker out of embarrassment.

...

Danny’s life definitely didn’t get easier after his identity was revealed, but it didn’t get that much harder, which was good.  Right?

Or, well, that was a little bit of an oversimplification.  His life definitely got harder in a lot of ways.  People stared at  him wherever he went.  Suddenly all of the popular kids at school wanted to be best friends with him, like he couldn’t see through that change of pace from a mile away.  There were news stations constantly vying for the first interview with the half-ghost kid who defeated the Ghost King.

But his parents stopped hunting him.  And they were going to try to work things out.  And Jazz revealed that she’d actually known for a while now, and that made her more ready to adapt to everything, and she didn’t treat him like anything had changed.

And all of that kind of evened it out, at the end of the day.  Even if he wasn’t exactly sure he was ready to go from town’s enemy to world’s hero.

Because that was another part of this: word of Amity Park, ghosts in general, and what he’d done had been spreading like wildfire since he’d put Pariah Dark back in his coffin.  Suddenly everyone was talking about him, and everyone knew him, and, as stated with the aforementioned journalists, everyone wanted to talk to him.  He woke up every day to see news trucks that were local and ones that were very much not right outside his house.  He’d flown intangibly to school every day for the past month.

Ancients, all this fame needed to die down soon.  He wasn’t sure how much more of it he could take.

He was often so caught up in everything changing all at once, however, that he didn’t have much of a chance to think about things he might want to happen.  Which was why he was a little caught off guard that morning.  He was running from the daily mob of screaming girls who wanted his autograph (which was never something he thought he’d get sick of), and after getting at least a little bit of a lead on them, he turned intangible and dove through the door to the janitor’s closet, then turned back to normal and rested his hands on his knees, panting slightly to catch his breath.

“Uh,” came a very familiar female voice, and Danny’s head shot up.  He found standing on the other side of the closet the one part of his life that hadn’t changed.

And for a long, long moment, he and Sam and Tucker just stared at each other.

Danny’s feelings about Sam and Tucker had never been more mixed.  They really were the one aspect of his life that stayed the same post identity-reveal-to-the-entire-world, and he couldn’t decide whether to thank them for the consistency or be pissed at them for the audacity.

Because he hadn’t talked to Sam and Tucker since the beginning of Freshman year.

And then his secret was revealed to the entire world.

And he still hadn’t talked to Sam and Tucker since the beginning of Freshman year.

“Uh,” Danny said finally, because they couldn’t just all keep staring at each other.  “Hi.”

“Hey,” Tucker said.  Sam nodded in acknowledgement.

Really, guys.  Work with him a little bit, please?

“Are you hiding from people too?” Danny asked, pushing himself up using his knees.

“Yeah,” Sam said.

“I didn’t think you’d be hiding from anyone anymore,” Tucker said, and Danny didn’t miss the tinge of bitterness in his voice.

“Um,” Danny said.  He didn’t seem to have any more words for Sam and Tucker than he had a year and a half ago.

“Danny!” came from outside the closet, and Danny whirled around instinctually.  “Get back here!  What makes you think you can run from me?”

“Hey you mind if I hang out here for a bit cool thanks,” Danny said, moving across the closet until he was right across from Sam and Tucker.  A second later, the door handle started jiggling, and Danny turned intangible, even though he could feel Sam and Tucker’s stares.

The door swung open and Paulina poked her head in.

“Oh, it’s just you two,” she said, disappointment obvious in her voice.  A second later, she perked up.  “Hey, you haven’t seen Danny, have you?”

“No,” Sam said, crossing her arms.  “Would you back off?  We’re trying to hide in a closet here.”

Paulina laughed.  “Sure, okay.  Have fun, losers.”  She slammed the door after herself.

Danny dropped the intangibility as soon as she was gone with a sigh of relief.  “Thanks,” he said to Sam and Tucker.

“Don’t mention it,” Sam grumbled, and leaned back against the shelf behind her.  “I’m surprised you didn’t want to see her, though.”

“Honestly, yeah,” Tucker agreed, giving him a weird look.  “Never thought I’d see the day you’d turn down Paulina.”

“It’s not that,” Danny said.  “I mean she… she’s not…”

The warning bell rang, and all three of them looked towards the door, where they could hear it outside.  For a second afterwards, none of them moved.

Sam did first, pushing herself off the shelf.  “Bye,” she said, starting towards the door.  Tucker followed her closely.

Danny tried not to make his deflation obvious.  “Yeah, okay,” he muttered.  He turned intangible again, and slipped through the floor, rather than try and go past them.

It was only when he actually made it to his homeroom that he realized he still had no idea why Sam and Tucker were in that closet.

…

“Hey, Fenturd— I mean Fenton!”

Danny heaved an internal sigh and looked up from his tray of food to find Dash and Kwan walking up to his table.

“Are these seats taken?” Dash asked with a grin, gesturing at the as-of-yet empty table around him.  He’d gotten to lunch early in order to try and hang on to one.

“Yeah,” Danny said to Dash, leaning over to rest his chin on his hand in what was intended to be a representation of how little he wanted them here.  “I’m holding it for all of the ghosts that are going to show up during lunch and blast you across the room.”

“Ha, you’re a riot Fenton!” Dash said, completely ignoring Danny’s tone and face and sliding into the seat next to him.  Danny cringed and didn’t bother to hide it, sliding as far away from Dash as he could.  Unfortunately, Dash just slid right down after him, which resulted in Danny nearly being pushed off the bench and Dash not noticing.

Kwan followed his lead and took the seat across from Danny, meaning Danny was forced to look in boredom to the side to avoid both of their gazes.  He waited a couple extra seconds, but eventually it became clear that neither of them were going to move.  So, Danny sighed, resigned himself to his life, and picked up one of his terrible school-lunch chicken nuggets.

“So, we were both thinking that maybe you could come watch one of our practices!” Dash called, slinging an arm around Danny’s shoulder.  “The football team’s, I mean.”

“Why would I do that?” Danny asked, making his shoulder go intangible just long enough for Dash’s arm to fall through.

“Well I mean, it would be neat to have you there,” Dash said, glancing across the table at Kwan.  “Right Kwan?”

“Totally,” Kwan agreed with a grin of his own.  “And I mean, you’re pretty good with athletic stuff.  You know, when you’re a cool ghost fighting superhero and not a weak dweeb.  Maybe you could come as Phantom, you know, show us some tricks!”

“Gee, that sounds great,” Danny deadpanned.  “So am I just supposed to ignore the insults in there, or…?”

“Hey,” came Paulina’s voice, and Danny turned around to see her walking up behind them all.  “Can’t you two leave him alone?  It’s clear he doesn’t want to be bothered by you.”

Danny blinked in surprise.  He really hadn’t expected Paulina to pick up on that.  Maybe she actually—

“He’d clearly rather be sitting with me!” Paulina said, reaching down and pulling Danny up by his arm.

“Okay, that’s it!”  Danny went intangible again and slipped out of Paulina’s grasp, then grabbed his lunch and walked out of the room, straight through the doors without bothering to open them.

He made his way out to the front steps of the school and sat down, and managed to get through at least a couple bites before he remembered the reason eating outside was also a bad idea.  The reminder came in the form of a reporter and a camera man leaping out from what he thought was a normal van sitting across the street.

“Mr Fenton!” called one of them as he ran up towards the steps.  “Or would you prefer Mr Phantom?”

“I’d prefer solitude,” Danny snapped, leaning back and away from them both.

“Oh absolutely!  Just a couple of quick questions first of course, you wouldn’t mind.”

The door slammed open behind them, and Danny prepared himself for Dash or Paulina again when, to his surprise, Mr Lancer stepped down the steps and stopped right in front of him.

“You’re on school property,” he said, crossing his arms.  “You have two minutes to get back in your van and drive away or I am calling the police.”

“Sir, can I ask, how long have you known that one of your students is dead?” the reporter asked, shoving a mic in Lancer’s face.

Lancer raised an eyebrow and pulled out his phone, then started dialing 911.  Thankfully, the reporters turned and ran back across the street before he could finish.

Lancer turned back around as soon as they were gone.  “Are you alright?” he asked, casting a concerned look down at Danny.

“Fine,” Danny muttered, picking up his tray and climbing to his feet.  “You know.  Great.”

Lancer looked at him for another second, then said, “Mr Fenton, come and eat your lunch in my classroom.”

“What?  Why?”

“You can sit out of view from my door,” Lancer said.  “It’ll give you a break from the crowds.”

Danny felt a knot in his chest loosen.  “Really?”

Lancer gave him a sympathetic frown.  “I can’t imagine it’s an easy thing to deal with all the time,” he said.  He opened the door again and gestured for Danny to go first, so he did.

And for the first time in a while, he ate his lunch in silence.

…

He wasn’t expecting to see Sam and Tucker again that day.  Most of the time his time at school was spent avoiding every single person he possibly could.  The morning incident in the janitor’s closet had been a once in a blue moon event.

But, as fate would have it, there was a ghost attack during the last period, and after going and taking care of it (just the Box Ghost showing up as an irritation), he landed behind the school to find Sam and Tucker leaning against the wall and talking.

And while he’d originally come back here to try and avoid all of the cheers he’d get going right back into class, he was sort of regretting that decision now.

Sam and Tucker were clearly deep in conversation, but they noticed when he landed right in front of them, and then they all got to do a lovely repeat of that morning’s staring at each other.

“Hiding again?” Tucker asked eventually.

Danny nodded.  “You too?”

Sam nodded.

Danny gave them a curious look.  “From what?”

“Danny!”

Danny groaned audibly this time, as Star ran around the side of the building and straight for him.

“That was so cool the way you just flew off like that!” she called.  “Not a second thought to how you might be putting yourself in danger!”

“Yeah, thanks,” Danny said, already starting to fly away.  “Make my excuses in class, will you?  Got to get this really dangerous ghost back to the portal right away and send him through to the ghost zone.  Great thanks bye!”

He flew off maybe a little bit too quickly for the given situation, but he couldn’t stand another second there, and school was basically over anyway.  He made it home pretty quickly, and thankfully wasn’t stopped by any news outlets on the way, though that was likely because he made the whole trip while intangible.

But while he made it inside without any fuss, as soon as he flew down to the lab he was greeted with his parents working on what looked like a weapon of some kind.

He winced.  He was never quite able to stop the touch of fear that came with his parents working on a ghost weapon.  After a second, though, he floated down to the ground anyway and changed back from his ghost form.

Both his parents startled and looked over at him.

“Danny,” his mom said.  “You’re back early.”

“Yeah uh, ghost fight in last period,” Danny muttered, heading over towards the portal and attaching the thermos to it.  “School was already basically over, so I just came home.”  He hit the button on the side of the portal and sent the Box Ghost flying into the portal, crying out dramatically all the way.

“Well that’s nice,” Mom said, the tension in her voice obvious.

“Yeah, uh, anyway I have homework,” Danny said, starting for the steps.  He had a feeling flying up through the ceiling wouldn’t be a great idea right now.

“Will we see you for dinner, Danno?” Dad asked.  “We were hoping to all eat together tonight.”

Danny tightened his grip on the railing of the stairs.  “Okay.”

He considered asking what they’d be having, but given the tension in the room he really didn’t think he could spend much more time in the lab.

So instead, he just said “See you later,” and headed upstairs.

It’s not that his parents had reacted badly to the Phantom news.  They’d done the important stuff, they’d given him a huge apology and stopped actively hunting him.  But none of them seemed to really know where they stood with each other anymore.  Danny didn’t logically think they were going to hurt him anymore, but it was difficult to get rid of that fear response that for the longest time, it made sense to have.

But at the same time, he could tell it made them feel guilty to see him be scared of them.  Jazz said it wasn’t his fault, and she was probably right.  But he still hated it.

He started first for his bedroom, and made it part of the way through the living room when the front door opened and Jazz sprinted in, slamming the door shut on nearly a dozen reporters.  Danny could still hear their voice through the door after it shut.  Some were asking how it felt to be the brother of a hero, some were asking how long she’d known and how she’d found out, and some were asking how it felt to know her brother was dead.

Jazz heaved out a breath, though all of the reporters were still easily heard through the windows.  Then she looked up and met eyes with Danny.

“Oh hey,” she said, clearly still exhausted.  “How was school?”

Danny didn’t respond, instead gazing out the gap in the curtains to the people shoving cameras in it.

“Sorry,” he said to Jazz.

“Oh, don’t you dare,” Jazz said.  “I know you hate them as much as I do.”

Danny sighed and looked down.  “Yeah.”

“Are you doing okay?” Jazz asked hesitantly.  “I’m sure it’s… a lot.”

Danny snorted.  “Understatement.”

Jazz smiled a little.  “Yeah.”

Danny turned to face her more directly, chewing on his lip.  He’d avoided the topic with her so far, mostly because too much was going on, but that didn’t mean he hadn’t been desperately curious.  “Can I…” he said hesitantly.  “Can I be like one of those awful reporters and ask you how you found out?”

Jazz rolled her eyes.  “Don’t be ridiculous.  You’re not a reporter, you’re my brother.  And I know if I tell you it’s not going to end up on the 5:00 news.”

She paused, and turned and glanced out the windows for a moment.  “You want to go upstairs, though?”

“Yes,” Danny said immediately.

So they both ended up in Jazz’s room, sitting next to each other on her bed, with the curtains drawn tight in case the helicopters came back.

“I found out during the Spectra thing,” Jazz started.  “I spotted you transforming.”

Danny nodded, thinking about that.  “Okay,” he said quietly.  “And… why didn’t you say anything?”

“I wanted to wait until you wanted to tell me,” Jazz said.  She sighed, and glanced towards the windows.  “I guess that didn’t really work out.”

“No,” Danny muttered.  “But… I appreciate the sentiment.”

Jazz turned to look at him, concerned.  “Are you doing okay?  I mean, obviously not, just… you know.”

“Oh no, I’m fine,” Danny said, rolling his eyes.  “I always hoped that everyone would learn my secret in the aftermath of an exhausting battle when I was definitely not prepared for them to learn, and then I’d be hounded by literally everyone who suddenly feels entitled to my attention and my time.  Dream come true, this is.”

“I’m really sorry it turned out this way,” Jazz said quietly.

Danny sighed.  “Me too.”

“Is there anything I could do to be helpful?” Jazz asked.

“Do you know if anyone’s figured out time travel yet?”

“I don’t think so.”

“Dammit.”

There was a moment of silence, and Jazz said, “I mean it.”

Danny shook his head.  “There’s nothing you could do that you aren’t already doing,” he said.  “You’re not looking at me different.  Like your entire worldview’s been flipped on its head.  Which, I mean I guess for a lot of people it has, but… still.  It’s nice that you’re not.”

Jazz was quiet for a moment, and then she reached over and wrapped her arms around his shoulders.  And despite how totally lame it was to hug his sister, Danny did the same back.

“Still, if you want me to stand in between you and anyone, just let me know,” Jazz said.

“I wouldn’t ask you do that,” Danny said, pulling back, though he was smiling a little.  “I can just fly away from the news vans, and go intangible to get away from the helicopters.  And Lancer already gave me permission to hide in his office during school hours if I ever need to.”

“Good,” Jazz said with a nod.  She paused for a second, and Danny got the feeling she was about to ask something delicate.  He was proven right when a second later she said, “And what about Sam and Tucker?”

“What about them?” Danny said, glaring away.  “We’ve said about ten words to each other since everything happened.  And about half of them are ‘um.’”

…Okay, so maybe he’s a little more bitter than he realized.  He sighed.

“I can’t expect everything to suddenly change,” he said, turning back to Jazz.  “Our falling out had nothing to do with Phantom.”

Or, it technically did.  Their falling out had been because he constantly ditched them and left mid-way through hangouts.  Because he was Phantom, and had to go fight whatever ghost had shown up.  But they didn’t know that at the time.  And it had been over a year since they’d talked.  They had probably moved on.

“You should still talk to them,” Jazz said.  “And I mean really talk to them.”

“Yeah, well, I don’t see much of an opportunity for that in between getting interrupted every ten seconds, either by classmates or reporters,” Danny said.  He paused, and turned to look at Jazz as a realization struck him.  “Hey, how are you doing with all that, by the way?  It doesn’t look like the reporters are leaving you alone.”

“They’re definitely not,” Jazz said.  “But I can handle myself.  Besides, they tend to leave me alone as soon as they see you.”

Danny smiled a bit.  “Glad I can take that off your shoulders for you.”

“Oh yeah, if anything you owe me,” Jazz said with a smile.  “After everything I did for you?”

“I think I’ve saved your life three times now.”

“Do my dishes for a month and we’re even.”

Danny snorted.  “Sure, you got it.”  He took a deep breath, feeling lighter than he had when he got home.

“Hey, thanks, Jazz,” he said, looking over at her.  “You’re surprisingly easy to talk to.”

“Anytime,” Jazz said, smiling warmly at him.  “I mean it.”

…

The next day didn’t start much better, with flying invisibly to school and hiding in various places until first period starts, but Danny found himself in a better mood despite it.  Talking with Jazz had helped, and knowing he’d have a quiet place to eat lunch helped too.

He still didn’t love being swarmed in the halls on his way to his first period after the warning bell rang, though.  Maybe he could use his well-established reputation for being late for everything and just hide until the halls were empty between classes.

…Or would that not work anymore because everyone knew the reason?

Well, he’d give it a shot anyway.

First period was uneventful, thankfully, aside from everyone spending the period staring at him while he was trying to focus, which was nothing new.  He could tell it was irritating both him and the teacher, however, because eventually he set his chalk down from writing math equations on the board.

“Anyone who doesn’t stop staring at Mr Fenton loses an entire letter grade on the next test,” he snapped.  “This is school, this is not your free time.  Mr Fenton, thank you for at least trying to pay attention.”

“Anytime,” Danny deadpanned, because he wasn’t about to turn down a compliment from a teacher, and he really was trying.

Apparently the threat of losing a letter grade was only enough to sway a couple students, though, likely the ones who hadn’t entirely given up on their grades like he had.

(Although maybe the administration would go easier on him now…?)

Either way, he managed to get at least some of the notes down by the end of the class, and going up to the teacher to ask if there was anything else he absolutely needed to have written down seemed to put him on his better side.  Being a teacher’s favorite was also something he wasn’t used to.

And as a second bonus, staying behind and finishing the notes resulted in a late pass, meaning he could wait until everyone had filed out of the hallway.

Or at least, he thought that’s what he was doing.

Instead, as he turned a corner towards his next period, he stumbled across Dash shoving someone inside a locker.  And instead of adding him to the bunch like he used to, when Dash spotting him he brightened.

“Fenton!  You want to help me stuff these losers in here?”

“Not really,” Danny said, starting over towards them to help out whoever he was bullying.  “You know, if you’re really trying to get on my good side, you might try—” he stopped as he reached the locker.

Well, apparently Dash really didn’t care about getting on his good side, because staring back out at him were Sam and Tucker.

“Uh, hey Danny,” Tucker said, waving at him from inside the locker.

Danny turned back to Dash, raising an eyebrow in what hopefully came across as “are you fucking kidding me.”

“Aw, come on, you’re not trying to say you still care about these losers,” Dash said, like the very idea was ridiculous.  “You can hang out with anyone you want now!  By the way, you’re still coming to football practice later, right?”

“Probably not,” Danny snapped.  He held a hand out to Tucker, who grabbed it.  Danny turned him intangible and pulled Tucker out until he could stand on the floor.

Tucker looked a little off balance after he let go, but Sam still grabbed his hand when he offered the same to her.

“Okay,” Tucker said as Danny set Sam down.  “A little warning next time maybe?”

“Sorry,” Danny said.  He glared back over at Dash.  “Beat it.”

“Aw come on Fenton, you know I didn’t mean anything by it, I just—”

“Beat it or I tell everyone about that time you wet your pants after I saved your life from the Box Ghost.”

Dash went pale, and then quickly left.

“Wait,” Sam said.  “Really?”

Danny snorted.  “Oh yeah,” he said, turning back to face them.  “I could tell you stories about what Dash is like when he’s in danger.”  He paused, looking at them both in concern.  “Are you guys okay?”

Sam glared away, crossing her arms.  “Fine,” she muttered, a note in her voice that Danny couldn’t read.

“Thanks for the help,” Tucker said.  And then they both turned around, clearly about to leave.

“Wait!” Danny yelled after them.  “I— please.”

They both turned hesitantly back around.

“We’re late for class,” Sam said.

“I’ll tell them you got caught up in a ghost attack,” Danny said.  “Just, please can we talk?  Just once, and then we can be done.  Okay?”

They both exchanged a glance, and seemed to say something to each other with their eyes that Danny couldn’t read anymore.

Finally, they turned back to face him, and they both nodded.

“Where?” Tucker asked.

Well, eventually the bell was going to ring, and then the hall would flood with people who wouldn’t leave them alone.  And if they went outside, they’d be met with a similar problem, just with the news crews instead of students.  And if they were going to pretend a ghost attack happened, they should probably go somewhere to make it at least a little more believable.

“How do you feel about the roof?” Danny asked.

“Uh,” Tucker said.  “Have you been there?”

Danny nodded.  “It’s… quiet.  Sometimes.”

They were both quiet for another moment, then Sam nodded.  “Okay.”

Danny started over to them, glanced at Tucker and said, “This is your warning,” and then grabbed them both by the arms, transformed, and flew them all up through the ceiling and onto the roof.

Tucker stumbled a little as Danny let go of him.  “Okay,” he said.  “Needed a different kind of warning there.”

Danny smiled a little bit.  “Be glad you’ve never fallen through the floor in your sleep.”

“That’s not really something I’ve ever thought would happen to me,” Tucker said.

“Tell me about it.”

There’s a couple seconds of silence, and Tucker and Sam exchanged another glance.

Finally, Sam turned back to him and crossed her arms.  “So,” she said.  “You’re Phantom.”

Danny sighed.  “Yeah.”

“Can I ask…” Tucker started.  “I mean what— like how did you become— it’s okay if you don’t want to tell me,” he added quickly, holding up his hands.  “You don’t have to.”

Danny looked at him for a second.  It was definitely the same question he was sick of getting from other classmates and the reporters.  But Tucker at least had given him an out.  And if this really was going to be the last time they talked, he wanted them to know everything.

“You remember the portal in my parent’s lab?” he asked.  “How I told you it just started working one day?”

Tucker nodded.

“That’s… not actually true.  I turned it on.  From… from inside.”

Tucker’s eyes widened.  “Dude.”

Danny gave a short laugh.  “Yeah.”

“What happened with the ghost fighting?” Sam asked.  “I mean did you get pulled into that, or…?”

“What?  No,” Danny said.  “I mean, kind of, sure, but someone had to do it.  I wasn’t going to let people get hurt.”

“But— you got hurt,” Sam said, gesturing at him.  “All the time.  We talked about it around you.  Back when— when we were still talking.”

Danny shrugged.  “I can take it.  Normal humans can’t.”

The phrasing seemed to throw them off, which was fair, but he didn’t take it back.  He wasn’t a normal human anymore.

“Still,” Sam said finally.  “You should have told us.  We could have helped you.”

Danny’s shoulders slumped.  “I know,” he muttered.  “I— I really didn’t want you to find out like this.”

“On the news?” Tucker asked.  “Along with everyone else?  Like we weren’t any different from them?”

Danny winced.  “Yeah.”

A pause.

“If I knew everyone was going to find out, I would have told you first,” he added.  “For what it’s worth.”

“Why didn’t you tell us?” Sam asked.

“It just… it felt so big,” Danny said, shaking his head.  “And I didn’t know how you’d react.  And… I’m sorry.”

Neither of them said anything for a minute.  Danny wasn’t sure what exactly they were waiting for, but eventually he had to help fill the silence.

“How long has Dash been bothering you?” he asked.

Both of them immediately looked away.

“Oh, come on.  You can’t make this conversation entirely about me.”

“We can’t?” Sam asked raising an eyebrow.

“No.  That’s not fair to me or you.”

Sam glared away again.

“Pretty much since everyone found out,” Tucker said a second later.  “I guess he figured he couldn’t mess with you anymore so he moved on to easier targets.”

Danny clenched his fists.  “Asshole.  I’m sorry.”

“It’s not your fault,” Tucker said.

“No, I just mean,” Danny gestured vaguely with his hands, not sure what he meant.  “God, I’m so sick of him.  Of all of them.”

Tucker gave him a look.  “You really don’t like all the praise?”

Danny shrugged.  “I dunno.  I guess it beats being hunted.”

Tucker and Sam were both silent for a minute.  Danny looked at them for a second and saw slight horror on their faces.

Oh.  Maybe they hadn’t quite realized that part yet.

“You could have told me about Dash, you know,” Danny said, trying to stop them from thinking too much about that.  “I would have helped.”

“We… kind of didn’t think you’d care,” Tucker said hesitantly.

Danny blinked.  “What?” he asked.

“I mean, you are kind of a big deal now,” Sam said, gesturing at him.

Danny crossed his arms.  “I’m sorry?  Did you miss the part where I didn’t want to be?”

“No, I just mean—” Sam started.

“Yeah, I should go hang out with Dash, huh?  Or start dating Paulina?  Wouldn’t that be just great?”

Sam blinked at him.  “Would it not?”

“Of course not,” Danny snapped.  “None of them actually give a shit about me.   They all just think it’ll get them something if they’re best friends with Phantom.  They still don’t like Danny.   I don’t want to be friends with people who only ever see one side of me.  That—” he looked away.  “That already didn’t work.”

“Oh,” Sam said quietly.  “Sorry.”

Danny sighed.  “It’s okay,” he muttered.

There was another long stretch of silence.

“That wasn’t the only reason, you know,” Sam said.

Danny looked up at her.  “What wasn’t?”

“That we didn’t tell you.  Or— I guess I can’t speak for Tucker.  But it was just kind of embarrassing.”

“Embarrassing?”

“I meant it when I said I noticed you were getting hurt all the time,” Sam said, looking down at the ground.  “You’re fighting actual ghosts, and I’m supposed to come up to you and say ‘hey Dash is being mean to me?’”

Danny stared at her.  “Sam,” he said.  “Don’t be ridiculous.  I would have put the ghosts on hold.”

“I don’t want to call you for backup every time I need help,” Sam snapped.  “You’re not like— my bodyguard.  Even if we had spoken in the last year.”

“Well, I appreciate the sentiment,” Danny said, because he did.  “But you— I hate it when you guys are hurt.”

“We hate it when you’re hurt too,” Tucker said, looking pointedly at him.  “It’s why we didn’t exactly love it when you pushed away while you were so obviously dealing with something.”

Danny winced.  “I’m sorry,” he said again.  “I should have told you.”

“Yeah, you should have,” Tucker said.  And then all of them stood there, none of them saying anything.

Tucker broke the silence again, this time with a sigh.  “But for what it’s worth?” he said.  “Thanks for saving everyone all the time.  And for recently, with that weird ghost king guy.”

Danny nodded.  “Anytime,” he said.  He didn’t have to tell them the part about how he thought he was going to die.  Again.

“And, you know, for what it’s worth?” he said instead.  “Thanks for trying.  While I was being an idiot.  Sorry I didn’t let you help me.”

“How about this,” Tucker said.  “We’ll be there to help you as Danny and Phantom if you kick Dash across the football field once or twice.”

Danny blinked, confused.  “Huh?”

“That sound good to you, Sam?” Tucker asked, glancing at her.

“Yeah, I wanna see that,” Sam said with a nod.  “And I’d like to learn how to kick some ghost butt.”  She smirked over at Danny.  “Maybe I’ll start with yours.”

“Wait, I thought,” Danny said, looking back and forth between them both.  “I thought we said we’d be done after this.”

“Are you kidding?  You think you’re getting rid of us again?” Sam asked.  “Now that we finally know what’s been going on with you?”

“Sorry, you’re stuck with us this time,” Tucker said, crossing his arms with a grin.  “Like we’re gonna let your total loser half go unacknowledged.  You can’t be Phantom all the time.  Sometimes you have to get teased for how much you like NASA.”

“Or get your butt kicked in Doomed,” Sam chimed in.  She raised an eyebrow.  “Sound good?”

Danny didn’t try to hide his smile at all, and instead he closed the space between the three of them and wrapped his arms around Sam and Tucker in a hug.

“That sounds great,” he said, meaning every word.

#danny phantom #danny fenton #sam manson #tucker foley #jazz fenton #dash baxter #maddie fenton #jack fenton #phic phight #my fic

[urdepressedslut]

You’re Mine, Sunshine ❝part six❞

♡ Pairing: Grumpy!Bodyguard!Bucky Barnes x Sunshine!Fem!Reader

♡ Summary: Bucky receives a morning visit from Steve, with the news about what was in the box. Bucky continues to think about what he should do. Should he tell you the truth about your stalker?

♡ Warnings: language, angst, fluff, stalking, hints to death threats, mentions of parent death

Part 7

Trope ⇢ Grumpy x Sunshine | Mob!Au Bodyguard!Au

Loud knocking had woken Bucky up from his slumber— his sagging body in the chair next to your bed, straightening.

He felt his back crack, along with his neck— the seat wasn’t the most comfortable. But there was no way he was going to leave you last night— not after you had asked him to stay.

He rubbed the sleep out of his eyes, giving you a quick look— smiling at your sprawled out form on the bed.

He made it down the hall and down the stairs, checking through the frosty glass before opening. His body was tense— on alert for a possible intruder. It was only Steve. Swinging the door open, he was met with a tight lipped smile— one that didn’t mean good news in his opinion.

“Good morning Buck. Sorry to wake you up, but this is pretty important.” Steve told him, and Bucky rolled his neck around— already feeling stressed for the day.

“Morning— yeah come on in.” He stepped aside to allow Steve to enter.

Steve walked in and shut the door, securing the locks before the two headed towards the living room to sit down.

“So what’s going on?” Bucky asked, running a hand through his hair.

Steve took a deep breath, rubbing his temples in preparation. That didn’t make Bucky feel better. Truthfully— he’s rather never see Steve too often. He felt like it only meant bad news when he saw him. Or maybe he just wanted it to be you two instead.

“Well trust me, I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t important.” Steve added, and Bucky nodded for him to continue. “It’s about the box.”

At first Bucky was confused— having forgot about it completely after yesterdays events. But now with the mention from Steve, his mind spiraled. He dreaded to find out what was in the box— but he also was curious.

“What was in it?” Bucky asked the golden question.

Steve looked down nervously to the floor, taking a second to glance around— making sure you weren’t around.

“If I tell you— it’s not to be repeated to her.” Steve warned, and Bucky scoffed and shook his head.

Here we go again— the big secret that is being kept from you. When in reality, you deserve to know out of everyone. It was about you— a threat to your life.

“Steve this is bullshit— she deserves to know someone is stalking her for fucks sake!” Bucky complained, frustrated that he had to keep something from you.

The more he got to know you better— the more he truly believed you didn’t deserve this. He blamed his defensive behavior on the fact that he was your bodyguard— nothing more.

“We have orders from the boss Buck— I would think you’d understand that.” Steve pointed out.

“Yeah well, it’s not right. She deserves to know. She deserves better.” Bucky defended you, running his hand through his hair stressfully.

Steve gave Bucky a once over, looking at him like he had five heads. Steve was confused at his change in behavior.

“Seriously Steve, what was in the box?” Bucky changed the topic, clearly still frustrated but trying to focus on business.

Steve dismissed his confusion for now and got serious again. Doing another quick glance to make sure you weren’t listening in on the conversation.

“There was another note,” Steve started, “It read wonder if you’d squeal like a pig just like your mother.”

Bucky’s stomach knotted up at the sinister message, the way he was glad you didn’t know about this one. This was something that wouldn’t just shock you— it would disturb you to no ends— haunt you to your core.

“And along with the note was her Mother’s necklace.” Steve finished, and Bucky’s eyes went wide.

This wasn’t just a stalker— this was someone with bad intentions. Someone who already had blood on their hands possibly. Someone who was capable of sick shit.

“The necklace was a locket of her and (Y/n).” He explained. “We still aren’t sure if this has something to do with Pierce— or if this is just a secret admirer.”

Bucky bit the inside of his lip in thought, the whole situation making him uncomfortable— for you. He felt even more protective every time Steve came with bad news. For a second his protective side wasn’t coming out because it was his job— it was coming from the heart.

“She needs to know about this shit.” Bucky muttered lowly.

Steve scoffed, leaning back in his seat. An entertained expression etched his face.

“What happened to you Buck?”

Bucky narrowed his eyes, glaring at Steve for a moment before he spoke. His voice defensive— annoyed.

“What are you talking about?”

He wondered for a quick second— was Steve always this annoying?

Steve scoffed again, rubbing a hand down his face, but he wore a shit eating grin, a knowing look sporting his face.

“Miss perfect rubbing off on you?” Steve chuckled, watching Bucky furrow his brows in confusion.

Bucky tried to ignore the anger that built up inside at the nickname Steve gave you.

“The fuck is that supposed to mean?” Bucky pushed.

“Buck— you’re soft man. Quit defending her, the things her dad has said— you need to be watching your back man.” Steve warned and it only had Bucky boiling with anger.

Bucky was sick and tired of this judgement that everyone held against you— this persona that didn’t even exist. You were wrongly labeled as a monster. Bucky just knew it wasn’t fair, especially when you were as sweet as pie. The farthest thing from a monster. He had also seen a side of you— a sensitive side of you that made him melt even more. He saw through the cracks of your bubbly personality— the side that was secretly broken. It made him hurt, and in a way he related to you.

Another part of him hated the way you were able to break down his walls. He had built them for a reason, protecting his heart from the pain the world could cause. Then here you were, skipping right into his life— turning the walls to dust with just the touch of your finger. He felt indifferent about it all— hating it and loving it.

“You don’t know her— so I’d quit talking about her like you do.” Bucky warned, the air now thick with tension as Steve huffed in his seat.

“She could be tricking you Buck. It’s still early— you only just met her.” Steve argued.

“Again— I know her better than you ever will.”

Steve scoffed again, waving his hands towards him.

“Look at you, defending her,” Steve laughed, “You’re her bodyguard— not her boyfriend.”

With that last sentence, Bucky’s jaw was clenched painfully in anger. His hands fisted uncomfortably— his knuckles whitening.

“Thanks for the info— you need to leave.” He tried to say calmly. Although his face was red with frustration.

Steve shook his head, a flash of emotion that looked apologetic passing through his features.

“I’ll see you later.” Steve said lastly, standing up to exit.

Bucky stayed silent, with angry eyes— watching Steve walk to the door until he left. As soon as the door closing sounded, he relaxed in his seat. The air seemed to be breathable now that he was gone. He liked it when it was just you two. Things seemed easier, everything felt lighter.

You’re her bodyguard, not her boyfriend.

The words shouldn’t of rang through his head— but they did. Over and over and over. He was confused at his reaction, but wouldn’t of reacted any other way. Things would be different if you were everything your Father said you were— but you were the opposite. He knew parts of you now and was learning more about you everyday. He had to react like that, if your Father wasn’t going to defend you— he’d do it.

His being craved the lightness your brought— the peaceful aura you’d leave when you were in the room. He found himself wanting to head back upstairs to you— needing to drown himself in the comfort that was your company.

He decided to do just that— headed upstairs to find you. Without him knowing it, he walked up the stairs and down the hall— all with a gentle smile on his lips.

He opened the door slowly, peeking in to make sure you were still asleep— afraid that his knocking would wake you. He was shocked to find you sitting up, legs hanging over the bed.

The door was open, but your back was to him and he knocked anyway— alerting you he was coming in.

“Hey, is it okay to come in?” He asked, his tone soft now versus the harshness from talking with Steve.

You didn’t jump like you usually did, instead you turned slowly and sent him a tired smile. Your hair was messy from sleep, and your eyes were slightly puffy from just waking up. Bucky had to bite his lip to stop the smile from approaching.

God— you looked like… an angel.

You nodded for him to come in, watching his bulky form walk towards the bed.

“You sleep okay?” He asked, shoving his hands in his pockets.

He was suddenly feeling nervous around you, and he wasn’t sure if it was Steve’s comment that kept repeating in his brain.

“Yeah, I did.” You told him shyly, your cheeks heating up.

He nodded and avoided eye contact as the silence was killing him. He had so much to say, yet there was so much stopping him from doing so. He’d try again later when he didn’t feel so stressed out.

“Listen uh…” He started, sitting on the edge of your bed, a professional distance away from you, “I’m sorry about last night— I shouldn’t of said what I did.”

You grew serious but still kept a small smile etched on your face.

“James, it’s okay— you don’t have to keep apologizing.” You reassured him, waving it off like no big deal.

Truthfully, you weren’t upset with him.

He shook his head, his face flushed in embarrassment.

“Yeah I do. You’ve been…” He trailed off, wondering if he should go there, “You’ve been nothing but sweet to me since we met, and I’ve been… well— me.”

He dropped his head in shame, missing the way you were looking at him in awe.

“I’m sorry I’ve been acting like a dick most of the time— I promise I’ll try to be better.” He told you, and you scooted closer and placed your hand on his arm.

“James, I don’t want you to feel like you have to change yourself for me.” You told him.

Bucky felt hot under your touch, but otherwise ignored the feeling and totally disagreed with your statement. Of course he had to change— he wanted to change. He wanted to be a better version of himself for you. He hated that he did, but he couldn’t control it.

“I just wanna make it up to you, you know— for being a dick.” He repeated and you playfully glared at him.

“James if you tell me you’re being a dick one more time— I’m gonna slap you.” You threatened playfully.

Your words sounded goofy coming out of your mouth, but you didn’t expect the reaction from Bucky. His head leaned back and he let out a hearty laugh— one that was echoing off your room walls. You stared at him in shock— the bear was laughing? The bear was smiling like the cheshire cat. You were speechless.

Bucky wiped his eyes, noticing your shocked expression and smiled even more.

“Doll— I’d like to see you slap me. In fact, I’d like to see you beat someone up.” He pushed, the scenario playing through his head— it was adorable.

You shook your head, ridding yourself of the shock that had paralyzed you for a moment.

“Hey! I could hurt somebody if I wanted to!” You argued, crossing your arms in offense. But the corners of your mouth were lifting— his smile contagious.

Bucky had to hold back the snort that tried to escape, and just gazed down at you with a grin.

“Whatever you say doll.” He teased, loving the way you kept blushing at the nickname.

Why else do you think he keeps saying it?

You both sat in a comfortable silence for a moment, both of you content with each other’s presence. Bucky lost his smile just lightly before he spoke again.

“So— I wanna make it up to you,” He started, grabbing your attention, “How about we go get the baking supplies you wanted?”

You beamed at his suggestion, nodding you head excitedly.

“That sounds perfect, thanks James.” You said softly, his gaze giving you butterflies.

He nodded his head in a welcome, and stood up to head out of the room— to give you some space. You watched him leave with a look you had never sported before.

Something within you longed for him, even when you dismissed the thought— it’d come back stronger. You couldn’t starve yourself for the affection that Bucky had provided. Maybe you’d think differently about his suggestion, not thinking twice about it. But after witnessing Bucky defending you— your heart sped up at the memory.

You knew you shouldn’t of spied— but you had heard raised voices from the hallway and grew concerned.

Earlier…

You had cracked your eyes open, just enough to see Bucky’s back retreat from the room. The way his steps were sluggish— sleep still consuming him.

He stayed. Just as you had asked him to.

You opened your eyes all the way and felt the corners of your mouth lifting. Butterflies started to swarm your tummy. You had just woken up and he was already giving you butterflies. He had your day starting good.

While getting lost in a daydream about him— you decided to follow him. You weren’t sure what you even wanted to say to him— if there was anything to say. You just wanted to be around him, even if no words were spoken.

Sneaking down the stairs, you slowed your steps. Questing your breathing when you heard the sound of two voices. They sounded like they were arguing.

“What are you talking about?”

Bucky had sounded annoyed, the way his voice was edgier around this Steve guy.

“Ms. Perfect rubbing off on you?” The man called Steve laughed.

You couldn’t help the hurt that came to you from those words. You weren’t trying to be perfect— bell you knew you’d never be. You weren’t sure what you had done to earn that label. But you hoped it was some misunderstanding.

“The fuck is that supposed to mean?”

Bucky boomed, and you were sure if he was spitting those words at you— you’d be intimidated. His voice was thick, heavy with anger.

“Buck— you’re soft man. Quit defending her, the things her dad has said— you need to be watching your back man.”

The mention of your dad had you biting your lip, willing the tears to stay away. Of course he had something to do with this. You wondered like always— what you had done to make him hate you. You loved him and only ever talked highly of him.

“You don’t know her— so I’d quit talking about her like you do.” Bucky defended you, his voice laced with venom towards Steve.

Your heart sped up at the way he was defending you, no one had ever had your back like that. After your Mother passed, it was just you. You unfortunately learned that the only person that had your back— was you. It was depressing but that’s how things were. That was until you heard Bucky.

“She could be tricking you Buck. It’s still early— you only just met her.” Steve pointed out.

You opened your mouth in shock, confused and hurt with the way he spoke about you. You were talked about like you were a disease and nothing more. What did you ever do to him?

“Again— I know her better than you ever will.” Bucky hissed, the venom unfamiliar— at least with you.

“Look at you, defending her,” Steve laughed, “You’re her bodyguard— not her boyfriend.”

You were again— shocked at Steve’s words. But you forgot your own reaction and slightly peeked around the corner— trying to see Bucky’s reaction. From the thick silence that covered the room, you knew his reaction couldn’t be good.

Just barely you could see the side of Bucky’s face, and one of his arms. His metal one that is. You could see the metal fist shake, the way his jaw was clenched so tightly it looked uncomfortable.

“Thanks for the info but— you need to leave.” You heard Bucky try to say calmly.

You could easily tell that he was still angry, but was trying his hardest to hide it. You wanted to know why that sentence out of them all bothered him the most. Just the random theories flying through your head had you blushing.

You had heard enough, deciding to tip toe back up the stairs— and wait patiently for Bucky to come back up. Should you tell him you had listened in?

You found yourself stuck in an internal debate, until you had heard soft knocking come from your door. You knew who it was. You weren’t sure why you felt shy all of a sudden— Bucky had clearly seen you at a pretty low point. You knew you should tell him you were spying— but found yourself backing down in the moment.

~

Bucky knew it wasn’t smart to be out while someone was threatening you. But he’d be damned if he let anything happen to you. He’d kill anyone without hesitation if they tried anything towards you.

In fact, he’d cleared out the entire grocery store just for you. Letting you roam freely through the place, in search of your ingredients without having to worry. Instead he kept his eyes trained on the glass doors at the front. He didn’t know if he has the power to request such a thing— but had done it anyway.

He didn’t miss the glaring men across the street, who obviously worked for your Father. They sent him judgmental stares— most likely sending a message to Pierce. Bucky knew he should be worried about his position after going against Pierce’s orders. But he was starting not to care. You were deserving of so much more than what your Father had given you.

He rolled his eyes, breaking his staring contest with the men— focusing back on your humming throughout the isles. The music was muted in the store, leaving the sweet sound of your voice echoing throughout the space.

He wasn’t sure if it was paranoia— but everyone that passed by the window and glanced into the store. He immediately labeled them as the stalker. He wasn’t sure if it was his brain desperately wanting to find them— or if he was just worried about you. He obviously was taking a risk bringing you out, but you didn’t deserve to be locked up.

He knew he needed to tell you, and with his brain going back in fourth in a stressful debate— he had found his answer.

He was going to tell you.

“Okay, I got everything. Ready to go?” You announced, pushing your cart towards the only cashier in the store.

Bucky glanced back at you, giving you a small smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. He was still lost in his internal debate.

With a nod of his head, you headed towards the checkout. Bucky watched as you talked politely with the cashier— causing them to smile widely at whatever you were saying.

Truthfully he was too stuck in his head to hear what you were saying, but he wasn’t surprised to find you making someone beam. You seemed to have that effect on people.

🤍taglist for this series is officially closed 🤍

TAGLIST: @winters1917 @unaxv @sebastianstansqueen @casa-boiardi @sonatabee @nytzirhk @almosttoopizza @erinallene @daddy-dotcom @h0nestly-though @beautiful-loserr @gloriouspurpose01 @lesleurs @justherefortheficandsmut @floralwsloki @dottirose @madi-be-buggin @navs-bhat @happinessinthebeing @ximi1315 @buggy14 @dancer3205 @neeezza101 @rovckwells @loki-is-loved @yujyujj @wolfstarrrr @distinguishedbluebirdtriumph @tatianah26 @mrs-bucky-barnes-73 @lethallyprotected @sadboiabby @ziatracy @doveromanoff @whattheduckisupkyle @buckysgirl85 @etherealdisneyvillainness @doctorlilo @torntaltos @raging-panda @livingoffsavvyillusions @lmao-liz @mishkatelwarriorgoddess @toriluvsfics

@baconeggndcheez @nialiuwanderlust @nabiiturner @nickangel13 @queerqueenlynn @memyselfandi19 @mentalidrainedfangirl @wattpaduser200 @obsessedbutnotblessed @iris-shihabi @thecubanator2 @chloe-skywalker @oatballsoffury @bbiaa420 @vanillascreams @athenabarnes @the-universe-is-complicated @marvel-fandom23 @ilovecliches @frankcastlesbabe @aizawa-emma @shamelesssuitshark @buckyb-stan @pampeop @bruher @reading-n-writin @lenavonschweetz @khypods @himikotoga101 @stefansring @iateall-yourcookies @giftedyoungster3000 @itsmytimetoodream @im-a-marvel-ous-hoe @wintermischief @companionjones @meetmeatyourworst @sebstanwhore @xforeveralonerxx @marziwritesfic @hidden-treasures21 @avenirectioner

@hvnnibvni @chipilerendi @buckylovu @clean-and-claire @broadwaybabe18 @billy-reads @natashassandwich @potatothots @char112244 @totallynotnotsukie @theconstantsidekick @unkownkii @missaprilt23 @dreamcatchernightsky @globetrotter28 @ilovewriting06 @leabunny @samsgirl93

#bucky barnes #the winter soldier #marvel cinematic universe #sebastian stan #reader insert #buckybarnes #fluff #marvel imagines #light angst #mini series #you’re mine sunshine series #protective bucky barnes #bucky barnes x y/n #bodyguard!bucky barnes x reader #grumpy x sunshine #grumpy bucky barnes x sunshine reader #grumpy x sunshine trope #mob au #bodyguard au #bodyguard bucky barnes #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes fic #tfatws bucky barnes

[relatableblorbopoll]

Round 1 of preliminaries, group 11

The first two places get a place on the bracket

Little reminder: there will be 2 more rounds of preliminaries, the losing blorbos of this poll still have 2 chances of getting in the official bracket

Propaganda under the cut

Mae Borowski (Night in the Woods)

"Spoilers! She's a college dropout in her early twenties, who suffers from untreated mental illness and dissociation and had a complete breakdown at college, causing her to come home. Now she's living with her parents again, but life in her dingy little hometown went on without her. Her friends are adults now - in a relationship and planning on moving to the big city, or having to waste away in a dead end job instead of following their dreams. Mae is the only one without a new adult role in life. She's not great with people either - she's blunt and often doesn't think things through, and in many ways just doesn't get the world of adults. She's also prone to petty crimes and general anarchy. She's kind of lost and purposeless, and trying to find meaning in life by desperately clinging to the past. Her decision to drop out of college probably saved her life, but it's also put her family in a tough financial situation and is viewed by most people as her just thoughtlessly doing whatever she wants. She's also kind of shamed a lot about not having a job or other productive role in life, despite the fact that her untreated mental issues are actually disabling for her. She also plays the bass real bad. Anyway, i love Mae a lot. Playing this game as a college dropout in my early twenties, sitting in my childhood bedroom in my mom's attic, back in my dingy little hometown, desperately missing my old friends who have all moved on to better, resposible things in life... yeah, it felt like the game was pointing dead at me. Given tumblr's general demographic, i figure i must not be completely alone in this"

Shigeo Kageyama / Mob (Mob Psycho 100)

"autistic. likes milk. if we reach a certain level of emotion we turn into a psychic bomb. cool brothers :)"

Barry the Quokka (The Murder of Sonic the Hedgehog)

"Their only skill is working the microwave, they're non-binary, when seeing a trash bin their first instinct is to look through it, they're always the most normal person in the room, they can beatbox, and they were only hired due to being the only one who applied."

Kaveh (Genshin Impact)

"In a fantasy world, be a guy with a regular profession losing his goddamn mind. Poor guy has a guilt complex, (so true) and a lot of deep embarrassment regarding his life.(ehe) He just wants to do what he's passionate about but capitalism is evil and also he keeps getting scammed. Claims to not want anyone to know Things, goes into depth about these Things anyway. Is probably most definitely gay. Can be found face down on a table lamenting his fate. Terrible sleep schedule. (HA) He is such a guy. Wants to believe the world is a good place and people are inherently good. And wants to help people and do good himself. It's just hard. [And he has a roommate. Oh my god he has a roommate]"

"He was, and still is, regarded a genius. He aced his Akademiya days, he has the admiration and appreciation of so many people because he is oh-so remarkable. But what for, when reality is that he sits at home depressed and with guilt consuming him, faking the image people have of him, not only broke as fuck but actually in debt, drowning his sorrows in wine."

Yusuke Kitagawa (Persona 5)

"highschooler who wants to spend the rest of his life doing what he loves. is obsessed with art and beauty and it's on his mind 24/7 received help from his now friendgroup to break from his abusive foster father who he still have complicated feelings with had to move into school dorms and am struggling to live independantly since he'd rather spend money and time on his art but he's still surviving and enjoying the good times id say also ends up saying whatever is on his mind and is pretty eccentric. very passionate about what he loves. doesn't want to do anything else."

Nanami Kento (Jujutsu Kaisen)

"Ex-salaryman, now jujutsu sorcerer. During one life-and-death fight, kept talking about how it was almost six pm with is when he is getting off work at 6pm no matter what because he hates overtime. While his opponent repeatedly almost kills him. Normalest adult in this shonen anime. Teen MC: "Let's go all out!" Nanami: "No. Where moderate effort will suffice, use moderate effort." Some of his quotes from the anime: "I studied at Jujutsu Tech and one thing I learned is that Jujutsu Sorcerers are shit! Then I worked at your typical company and one thing I learned is that work is shit! If both are equally shit I'll take the one I'm more suited to." "You've faced several life-or-death situations, but that does not make you an adult. Finding more fallen-out hairs on your pillow, watching your favourite stuffed bread disappear from the convenience store... The accunulation of these little despairs is what makes a person an adult." "I don't praise or disparage anyone. I adhere to facts and judge on that basis. That's who I am. There was a time when I mistakenly believed society operated the same way." "

#preliminaries #tumblr polls #tumblr tournament #character bracket #character tournament #mae borowski #night in the woods #shigeo kageyama #mob psycho 100 #barry the quokka #the murder of sonic the hedgehog #kaveh #genshin impact #yusuke kitagawa #persona 5 #nanami kento #jujutsu kaisen

[dykeyaoi]

I feel like a lot of fanon tends to miss what seem to be three pretty crucial things about Teru, and it's weird because they are easy to miss, but they're also so important that without them he's very superficial. it's part of why he gets so yassified almost every time he's adapted (see: manga into anime into fancontent)

one is that this kid is smart. on my first watch of his debut arc I assumed he was psychically cheating to be one of Black Vinegar's top students. now though I don't think so: firstly, I'll admit, because he doesn't actually seem to have a way to do that except blackmailing other kids for answers or something; but secondly because throughout the series he's just good at figuring stuff out. he picks up complicated psychic techniques more quickly and frequently than anyone else, including Mob. he was the one who almost beat Shimazaki. he figured out that Psycho Helmet was Dimple from the fact that he was a spirit who knew Teru's name, not a lot of info to go on. he draws conclusions in the somewhat haphazard but very clever way a detective does.

two, he's motivated so much by anger. this one's something of a hot take but it's so there to me that I can't leave it out if I'm Teruposting. before meeting Mob yeah he thought he was special and important for having powers but he was also extremely lonely and subconsciously mad at everyone else for not having them. he's the only one who has to deal with Claw he's the only one who has to live alone because his powers make it dangerous for his parents, he's the only one strong enough to be the shadow leader. he'll do it because he's the Protagonist but god he's gonna be pissed the whole time. it's not what he wants (we only get to see what he wants later with Mob and Reigen and everyone else) but it's all he has for a long time. seventh division shows the intersection between I Should Be Satisfied Now Teru and I'm Better Than These Guys Teru very nicely

last and kind of most important is his thing for Mob. I absolutely believe ONE wrote Teru to be queer and he definitely had or has a crush on Shigeo, but I also think that at least part of said crush is him misconstruing his adoration and the pedestal he's put his friend on. until after the Confession Arc, the two of them getting together would be really tricky and probably not good. Mob still feels bad about what he did at Black Vinegar for most of the rest of season one, and the only reason Teru changed in the first place was because of the cavernous gap in power between the two of them. until he declares Shigeo his rival and realizes that he has faults and any destruction he causes isn't perfectly righteous, Teru can't love him.

there's as much to his character as there is to the other main characters, and I get the easy appeal of the flattened version of him but when he's flanderized into this sparkly gayboy who's also sad sometimes, it makes me sad.

#this has been in my drafts for months it needed to be finished #teruki hanazawa #hanazawa teruki #mp100 #mob psycho 100 #yaoi hivemind #<- they're the reason I added the last point instead of just writing the first two #not to add another character to this post but ummm Shou is also smart #Shou is the pre-planner he's a really good strategist #Teru puts pieces together as he goes & solves problems once they appear #Ritsu's weirdly psychological in his analysis of opponents but it works #and Mob fixes the unfixable #mob posting 100