#me and my friends will go at it like old cartoon characters with arms flinging and BONK BANG BAM noises in a dust cloud

[cicimunson]

Sweet Child of Mine Part 3

Series Summary: You’re Eddie’s former best best friend. The two of you drifted apart freshman year of high school and now you’re more enemies than anything else. Despite the hostility between the two of you, you still come around to help out with his eleven-month-old sister, Emma, who he and Wayne keep most of the time due to his father being in jail and his mother being an addict.

Pairings/Characters: Eddie Munson x Female Reader, Wayne Munson, OC characters Emma Munson, Wendy Munson and Greg Thompson.

Chapter Summary: Eddie panics when he wakes up and Emma isn't there, not knowing that you took her while he was sleeping. You two fight again, as usual. Eddie slips up and reveals more to Wayne than he means to about his feelings for you.

Warnings: Eddie injures himself accidentally, Eddie is upset, I don't think there's anything else.

Word Count: 2.2k+

Part 1 |Part 2|Part 4|Part 5|Part 6

Eddie stirs in his sleep, rolling over to check the clock. It's almost noon and Emma hasn't started fussing yet. Usually she'd be wide awake by now, screeching for a bottle and cuddles. Something must be wrong.

Eddie slings the covers off and hurries over to her crib. Other than her blanket and a stuffed doll, it's empty.

He panics. Has she figured out how to climb out?

"Emma? Emma! Where are you, sissy?" He calls out, searching the room trying to keep the fear from his voice so he doesn't scare her. "Are you hiding from your big brother?"

He sprints down the hallway, checking the bathroom. Oh God, what if she got into some cleaning chemicals or something?!

He trips over a pile of clothes as he charges into the kitchen. "Emma? Emma?!"

What if Wendy took off with her? What if she got outside?

She's not in the house anywhere. He flings open the front door. "Emma! Emma, come here, baby!" He calls frantically, jogging through the trailer park. He's barefoot and the gravel cuts into his feet, but he doesn't register the pain.

One of his nosy neighbors, Mrs. Birch comes down from her porch. "Edward Munson, why are you screeching like a crow and disturbing the whole park? Have you no respect for your neighbors?"

"Have you seen Emma? Have you seen my sister?"

Her mouth drops open. "You've lost your sister? Oh, good gracious. That's what happens when you make a teenager play parent. Do I need to call the police?"

Eddie ignores her, sprinting back to the trailer. She has to be hiding here somewhere, she has to be!

He checks under his bed, in the bathtub, flings open all the cabinets.

She's gone. She's gone.

He chokes back a panicked sob and snatches the phone off the receiver. He's halfway through dialing the sheriff's office when you come through the front door, holding Emma on your hip.

"And then we'll wake your Bubba up and get some lunch-"

You stop in your tracks when you see Eddie standing by the kitchen counter, shirtless and sobbing.

He snatches Emma from your arms and buries his face into her hair, hugging her so tightly she squeals in protest and tugs on his curls.

"What happened? What's wrong?" You ask, bewildered.

He glares at you over her head. The rage on his face is unmistakable.

Oh shit. You take a step backwards and he cocks his head, looking even angrier.

You wait nervously while he settles Emma on a blanket in the floor with her cartoons and a sippy cup of juice. He grips your elbow forcefully and tugs you down the hall into his room.

"Eddie, that hurts a little." You protest, trying to snatch your arm from his grasp.

He yanks you closer to him, his eyes dark as he glares down at you.

"You bitch. I should have you arrested. You think you can just take off with my sister whenever you want? It's fucking kidnapping!"

You push at his chest but he doesn't release your arm.

"I told Wayne I was going to take her to the park today! When I got here she was starting to fuss and you were sleeping so I didn't want to wake you! I left a note on the counter, did you not see it?"

"You should have woken me up before taking my sister anywhere! A fucking note, seriously? What the fuck is wrong with you?"

Under the anger and fury, you can see the panic. The fear. There's tears in his eyes and he's sweating.

Fuck. He was so scared.

Your own temper immediately dissipates. "I'm sorry. I'm really sorry, Eddie. I shouldn't have taken her without making sure you knew first."

He blinks. Normally you'd be screaming at him by now, telling him to stop being such an ass.

You lay your hand over his hand that's still clenched around your elbow. "She's fine, Eddie. She's safe. I would never let anything happen to her."

His bottom lip trembles. "I thought she'd gotten out of the house and got hurt. Or Wendy had snatched her again. I thought-”

He takes a deep breath to choke off a sob.

Fuck, I am so insensitive. I'm so stupid. It was nothing for you to take off with your nieces and nephews when you wanted to, nobody batted an eye. But Eddie and Emma didn't come from the same background as you. Of course Eddie panicked and assumed the worst.

"I swear, I will never take her anywhere without making sure you know first, okay?"

You wait for him to tell you that you aren't taking her anywhere anymore. You hold your breath, knowing at any second he's gonna tell you to get out and stay gone.

To your surprise, Eddie sighs and nods, tilting his head back to look up at the ceiling.

Your gaze drifts down to his neck and you become all too aware that you're practically smashed into his bare chest from where he had jerked you against him. Eddie didn't like being touched, but when he was angry with you he always pulled you against him so he could glare down at you, to be more intimidating, most likely.

You step back and he releases his grip on your arm. He's still staring upward, his hands coming up to rest on top of his head.

"Eddie, she's fine." You say softly. "She's safe."

He looks down at you then, his expression unreadable. You have to fight the urge to smooth his hair out of his face, to cup his cheek and reassure him.

Instead you glance down and gasp when you see the state of his feet.

"Eddie, you're bleeding!"

"Huh? What- oh." His eyes follow your gaze. "I'm fine. It doesn't hurt."

"What did you do?"

"I was looking for Emma outside without my shoes. I said it's fine."

"Oh Eddie, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I wasn't thinking."

"You never do." He replies dryly, but there's no malice in his tone.

"Can I help? I'll get some water and we can clean your-"

"I got it." He waves a hand dismissively at you.

You hear Emma let out a shriek.

"She's probably getting hungry. I'll feed her before I go."

"I got her, too." He limps toward the bathroom.

You roll your eyes at his back.

"Don't roll your fucking eyes at me." He throws over his shoulder. "I know you too well."

You head back into the living room and scoop Emma off the floor, changing her diaper. You fasten her in her high chair and spoon-feed her some yogurt, cooing words of encouragement to get her to eat more.

Emma sneezes and yogurt splatters all over your shirt. You dab at it with a paper towel, hearing Eddie snicker as he comes into the room, having cleaned his feet and gotten dressed.

"I have plans in half an hour, I don't have time to run home and change." You groan.

"She didn't do it on purpose." Eddie grumbles.

You smile down at Emma and kiss the top of her head. "Of course she didn't. She's too sweet for that, aren't you Emmy?"

"You can borrow one of my shirts. Just bring it back." He offers, surprising you.

"You sure you don't mind?"

He shrugs. "It's just a shirt."

"True. Um, thanks."

"The clothes on my dresser are clean."

"I know, who do you think washed them?" You retort.

"I didn't ask you to."

You sigh. Well he was nice for all of twenty seconds. "Never said you did, and you're welcome by the way." You snap.

"You act like you're my girlfriend or something. It's weird. You don't have to do my laundry or cook for me or anything else."

He really has no idea how much I do for him. He takes me for granted.

"Fine." You kiss Emma's cheek and head for the door.

"I thought you wanted to borrow a shirt?"

"Wearing your clothes? That's a little girlfriend of me, don't you think?"

He rolls his eyes. "Whatever. I couldn't care less if you go to your plans smelling like sour milk."

You know you shouldn't. You know you're asking for trouble. But you stroll back into the kitchen, dip your fingers in Emma's yogurt, and smear it on his shirt.

Emma squeals and claps her hands gleefully, then dumps the rest of the yogurt over her head.

"Now we can both smell like sour milk, you ass." You hiss at him.

Eddie jumps up and you shriek, running for the door. He scoops a handful of yogurt off Emma's highchair and slings it across the room, pelting you in the back.

"I'm gonna kill you!" You rush back to him, grabbing a soda off the counter. You give it a quick shake and open it, dousing him in Coke.

Eddie snatches the can from your head and turns it towards you, spraying you in the face.

"Oh, you dick!" You squeal, knocking it out of his hand.

Emma laughs, shaking her head and sending yogurt in all directions.

Eddie is laughing, too. For a few seconds it's almost like you're friends again.

There's a honk from outside and Eddie stiffens, glancing out the window with a frown.

"It's your little boyfriend. Must have got tired of waiting for you at your place."

"I'm not…he isn't."

"I couldn't care less who you date. Just keep them out of my fucking driveway."

"Eddie-"

"I need to bathe Emma." He lifts her from her highchair and heads down the hall without another word.

You wipe soda off you with a dishcloth, ignoring the horn beeping outside again.

There's no saving your shirt at this point, so you take Eddie up on his offer and go into his room, snatching a t-shirt off his dresser and changing into it quickly before leaving.

Eddie emerges from the bathroom shortly after with a clean Emma, tucking her into her crib for a nap. He turns and notices your dirty shirt crumpled up on the floor.

Scooping it up, he catches a whiff of your perfume and scowls when his heart speeds up. You always smell so damn good.

He wonders which shirt of his you borrowed, wondering if it's one that's obviously his, like a band tee. He can imagine the look on your boyfriend's face when you climb into his car, sporting one of his shirts.

Emma whimpers and he makes her a bottle, patting her bottom until she falls asleep.

He cleans the mess from the kitchen and checks on Emma once more, content that she's sleeping peacefully.

Wayne comes home with his arms full of groceries. Eddie helps him get them inside, putting them away while Wayne sits at the table.

"I hear you put on quite a show for the neighbors this morning."

"Yeah, well, you can thank Y/N for that. I didn't know she took Emma so I freaked out when I woke up and she was gone."

"Please tell me you didn't give that girl a hard time when she got back."

Eddie busies himself with putting cans in a cabinet, but Wayne catches the guilty expression on his face.

"Son, how many times have I asked you to be nice to Y/N? She does so much for us, for Emma."

"You pay her to do that stuff."

"Twenty bucks a week isn't nearly enough for all she does. She goes above and beyond."

"No one asked her to."

"You're right. She does it out of the goodness of her heart. She's a good person. I know you've had your differences-"

"Differences? She got hot over the summer before ninth grade and completely ditched me freshman year to wave pom-poms and drool over the jocks that she used to mock and defend me from."

"Yet she's still here every other day, helping out. Helping you out."

"Hey, I'm your blood. Who's side are you on?" Eddie protests.

"Emma's. She loves Y/N and Y/N is good to her. She needs a female figure in her life."

"You could always marry Mrs. Birch." Eddie quips and Wayne can't help but laugh.

Eddie finishes putting the groceries away and flops down at the table in front of Wayne.

"I can't help it, you know. She knows exactly what to do and say to make me absolutely crazy. She gets a kick out of pissing me off."

"You make it too easy for her."

"Yeah, well, she infuriates me."

Wayne hides his smile. "Gets in your head, does she?"

"Yes! Ugh, I hate thinking about her. I hate that she's always on my mind."

Wayne cocks an eyebrow and Eddie instantly backtracks. "I mean, she's so annoying, you know? I can't stand her."

"I see."

"I mean it. She's the worst."

"I'm sure she thinks the same of you."

"Well, good."

Emma starts to fuss and Eddie hurries down the hall to her. "Hey, sweet girl."

He brings her into the kitchen and Wayne reaches for her, bouncing her on his knee.

"I gotta get to band practice, shouldn't be more than an hour or two. If you need me-"

"I can handle my niece just fine, thank you. I'll remind you who took care of you most of the time when you were this age. You have fun with your friends. Me and Emmy are gonna watch cartoons and eat all the junk food, aren't we sweet girl?"

Eddie leaves.

Wayne nuzzles his nose against Emma's.

"What do you think, Em? Are Eddie and Y/N madly in love or what?"

Tag List: @aedicn @sidthedollface2 @saramelaniemoon @zahra10999 @natasha84 @harrys-tittie @urallidjits @neewtmas @harrystylesandthegoobs @cancankiki

#stranger things eddie #stranger things #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie x reader #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fanfic #stranger things fanfiction #eddie munson enemies to lovers #enemies to lovers #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson angst #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson fic #eddie stranger things #eddie munson slow burn #slow burn

[unchartedthelostlegacy]

Chlodineweek Day 2: Playfulness

Chloe snapped open the passenger-side door and ventured, “Old one, this.”

“Ja, I don’t have a midlife crisis.”

Nadine had shut her own door and ignited the motor--and the radio--before Chloe had finished climbing in. She had to look at everything, this girl. With Ukhozi FM crackling, Nadine pulled them into the street.

“Your dad good with cars?” Chloe asked suddenly.

“What…brought that on?”

“He the one who keeps this thing up for you?”

Nadine took her eyes off the road and frowned at her treasure hunting partner. “Sorry--what is it with you?!”

“Oh, nothing,” Chloe said. Carding her fingers through her ponytail as if she was playing a harp. As the buildings outside the window progressed in a long gradient from townhouse to single-floor corrugated roof structures. “I just know for a fact you wouldn’t trust a mechanic.”

“Because they rip you off.”

“You haven’t had it looked at in a while, have you.”

No, Nadine hadn’t. Yes, it was important to her, and the fan belt was noisy enough that the radio didn’t quite cover it at the minimal volume Nadine preferred to keep it on, but fan belts weren’t technically an emergency--

“This is different,” Chloe said. “Are we still in Johannesburg?”

“Orange Farm,” Nadine muttered.

“I don’t...see any trees?”

“Here we are.”

Nadine could already see one of her aunts standing outside, hands on her hips, and calling to her sons in isiZulu. As Nadine pulled up she rolled down the window. Thin arms wrapped around her neck as each boy kissed her cheek in turn, their mother’s strict instructions about their behavior continuing through the pop of a rear door.

A dried-mud-covered soccer ball bounced against the back seats first, and then Nadine’s cousins, ages eight and ten, crashed in through the same door, yelling about Among Us and playing a Youtube video from one of their phones. Nadine opened the door, smirking about leaving Chloe to listen to it all, and embraced her aunt.

Nadine was head and shoulders taller, but the woman dwarfed her in tone of voice as she switched from admonishing her children to her niece.

“Always disappearing, Nadi. Making everyone worry.”

“Not disappearing,” Nadine said, and, tapping her wrist, flipped a bundle of rand notes out of seemingly nowhere and held them out. “Magic trick,” she said in English.

Her aunt shoved them away. “Nadi! Think about where we are, put it away!”

Her family was all like this, too proud and careful in equal measure. Nadine pressed it on her anyway. “Now, you can’t bring up how you used to have to pull me off the jacarandas.”

“You’re still a child. I won’t take money from a child,” auntie said, reaching up to tease at Nadine’s hair, ignoring the money. “You still haven’t found a nice girl to settle down with.”

“No such thing.”

"Of course there is, Nadi. So many girls in the world, so many of them nice. You are lucky."

Nadine laughed. "Not the ones that are single."

Her aunt mock-slapped her upper arm. "Steal one from someone else then!"

Nadine about doubled up then, even though she had already been laughing, and was about to fall down. Her aunt clapped her back, laughing too, and nodded back at the car. "Go on, now."

Nadine got back into the driver's seat not having left the money, and resolved to give it to the boys later. "Everybody buckled?" She said in English.

Matthew was suplexing David around the neck, but they did seem to be wearing their seatbelts. Nadine scanned Chloe's waist for a buckle too, and looked up. The woman's brows were furrowed, her face inscrutable.

"What's the matter?" Nadine said.

"Oh, it's...nothing," Chloe did her usual nervous chuckle, gripped her arms. "I didn't know you could laugh like that."

"I've laughed in front of you."

Nadine reached back to separate the boys, just as if they were groceries, and they ricocheted to their opposite sides of the car before the belts tethered them. Kinetic energy.

"Not like...never mind, it's nothing."

Nadine pulled them out of the street, taking a few turns before she got on the main thoroughfares, when more trees and tall buildings became visible over the turnpike.

=

Nadine plucked out the ball and let it fall, giving it a quick tap with the side of her boot. It lobbed out over the ocean of grass and her cousins ran screaming after it, barefoot, even as she held their cleats and a blanket under her arm. She let out a scoff and shut the car door.

"Didn't we pass by a pitch over in--Orange Farm, was it?" Chloe said as she passed her.

"Some people call it Farma, too."

"Right," Chloe said, following her. Then: "Why come all the way here when--"

"Nadi!" David cried as he zoomed back. If he was a cartoon character, he would leave speed clouds behind him like the roadrunner. "We have four today, ja? We can play teams!"

"I don't think my friend brought cleats," Nadine said with a chuckle, immediately interrupted by Chloe flinging off her shoe.

"Splendid idea," Chloe said as she elbowed her, hopping on one leg with a grin. "Who picks?"

Nadine laughed again, shaking her head. "I know they look small, but they're really good. You might want to--"

Chloe bumped her in the shoulder. "I've played Aussie Rules," she hissed, as if it carried the weight of admitting to a murder.

"Is that when you ride on kangaroos? They do the kicking? Ball's a rolled up koala?"

The boys roared in laughter.

Chloe sniffed. "That would be Aussie polo. Get our sports right, Nadine Ross.”

Nadine shook her head, laughing, as she dropped the boys’ cleats and headed to the regulation-size end goal. They normally used one of the smaller side ones, but those were taken by a group of teenagers still wearing their school uniforms.

It stretched to either side as she stood in the middle, and she hopped up to do a quick pull-up on the crossbar before plunking down and turning to face her cousins. “It’s been a while. Try to get it past me.”

Matthew, breaking away from another impromptu wrestling match with his brother, ran to the free kick zone and set the ball down, adjusting its position minutely before taking a few steps back. David and Chloe lined up behind him as he broke into a run and smashed where his shoelaces would have been against the ball.

Nadine winced, wishing he’d put on his cleats. She was already moving. She didn’t even need to dive as she swatted the ball clean left.

“Taught you better than that, ja?!” she shouted at the pouting boy, dusting off her hands, as his younger brother ran gleefully after the ball.

Nadine turned and did two chin-ups off the crossbar--rituals were important--and when she dropped back down and turned, Chloe was crouching by David, whispering and gesticulating to him. Was she giving him directions? Describing an elephant in pantomime? Maybe she was teaching him the finer points of Australian Rules Football.

“Clock violation, ja!”

Chloe left him, and David stepped back, and suspicion rose in Nadine’s stomach. There was something about the look on her partner’s face.

She’s told him to put English on it, Nadine thought, almost seeing the boy’s bare foot approach the ball in slow motion. But which way?

She saw him feint, and her reflexes sent her the way she knew the ball would go, not the way the child was going--

But she didn’t see him freeze.

His foot stopped. Nadine had hit the grass by the time he came back into motion, took his final step and his kick finally connected.

The ball passed inches above her then, but it might as well have been the moon. It pillowed against the back of the net as she reached for it, and the next moment Nadine pushed herself off the ground with venom in her eyes for Chloe.

She’d taught David that damned Ronaldo stutter step.

The boy exploded, leaping and pumping his arm, and his brother shouted “LEKKER!!!” while tackling him with a hug. The first rule of being a child was acting like it was the World Cup at all times.

“I beat Nadi! I beat Nadi!”

“Good job!” Chloe was saying. “You beat Nadi! High-five, David! Look how sad she is!”

Nadine was an adult, but still subscribed to the rule of acting like it was the World Cup--rituals are important--and was lying on her back covering her face like she’d lost the penalty shootout to the Italians. The next moment David and Matthew had body-slammed her, laughing themselves silly.

“I want--I want freezer on my team!” David cried.

This revived Nadine.

“Freezer’s yours,” she said, grinning, and let them pull to her feet. She heard Chloe muttering under her breath and they traded glares as Nadine said, “Put your cleats on, then.”

“Freezer’s not wearing shoes!” Matthew protested, even as he pulled on his.

“Because I have magical ice powers,” Chloe said, easing her bare foot under the ball in the corner of the goal and lifting it, only to have Nadine steal it with her head. Chloe turned to yell at her, but Nadine caught it on her knee and dribbled it out to the free kick line.

“Oh, I see,” Chloe said, and walked to the middle of the goal with awesome serenity. “Warning you now, I was in goal most of the time in secondary school,” she smacked her hands together and held them out. “Do your worst.”

#chlodineweek #chlodineweek2021 #chloe frazer #nadine ross #uncharted: the lost legacy

[pettyprocrastination]

Dinner for Three

Pairing: Maxwell Lord x Valerie Lord x Black!Fem!Reader

OneShot: This is just a non-canon fic! This is basically placed AFTER the timelines of this fic, just a fun little side ficlet surrounding you and the lords after yall get together in celebration of Valentines day!

*If you want to read the rest of the fic so far here's a link to my masterlist where you can find Rip Out Our Seams & Stitch Us Together*

Word Count: 2k

Warnings: profanity, some groping going on and kissing. That's about it! Fluff and talking of self-worth.

Summary: It's Valentine's Day, you decide to treat Valerie to a nice homecooked dinner, Maxwell joins you when he returns home from work.

If the formatting is fucked im sorry tumblr fucked this like three times today im just trying to get it POSTED for you all.

Tag List: @captainsamwlsn @themarcusmoreno @cinewhore @thesadvampire @ithinkhesgaybutwesavedmufasa @readsalot73 @holographic-carmen @honestlystop @thecrimsonsquire @phoenixhalliwell @that-chick212 @phantomnae @goldafterglow

If I forgot to tag you I'm so sorry please let me know!

Notes: BIG thank you to @ficsilike-reblogged who bought me a kofi! I know i was meant to do asomething shorter but i couldn't help myself! Also my usual big thanks for the ever lovely @teaofpeach for editing for me you are an absolute treat my dear ily <3

(i coudn't find any good lasagna gifs the TRAGEDY)

“What in God’s name are you wearing?”

You turned around at the shocked voice to see Valerie standing in the kitchen doorway, red painted lips dropped open.

You grinned and planted your hands on your hips with pride. “My Valentine’s Day outfit! You don’t like it?”

Her face fell flat as she looked you up and down; the main culprit of her disdain was the shirt you wore, buttoned neatly and covered in hearts. “Hon, you look like a cartoon character.”

You wiggled your brows. “A sexy cartoon character?”

“Remind me again why I love you?”

Hearing the word ‘love’ from Valerie Lord would never not send your heart into a frenzy. It had been months since the gala, since they had told you about their feelings with courage brought on my champagne and their own confessions to one another.

They finally had each other, why couldn't they have you as well?

Of course, that didn’t mean there wasn’t a… learning curve. When it came to the relationship, Valerie was bad at sharing her feelings. Sure, she’d say when she didn’t like somebody, or when she thought certain food tasted bad or when Maxwell’s new cologne smelled like rat shit. But she wouldn’t tell you when she was sad, insecure or felt like she wasn’t enough for the both of you.

Maxwell was too concerned with the outer view of the relationship, as he had been with Valerie since they got married. It was suspicious of course, for him to be seen leaving with a “mystery woman” without his wife around, so he took certain precautions. When out and about, he would take too much time fretting over the cameras and questions than you.

These precautions nearly cost them your relationship, their sweet girl who brought them together and showed them love and care and made them realize while they couldn't live without each other, they couldn’t live without you as well.

But now, they knew this. That you weren’t a fling who could be replaced. Your nimble fingers had stitched their beating hearts back together with a golden thread they wouldn’t dare untie from your own.

You turned away from the heiress and back to the stove as you stirred the red sauce in front of you.

“As abhorrent as that shirt is-” Her voice purred in your ear as her arms slid around your waist and pulled your back flush against her- “I love you in those jeans.”

You chuckled and kept your eyes on the task at hand as you slowly stirred. “As much of a compliment that is, Mrs. Lord, why don’t you keep those hands to yourself until I put this on the stove, alright?”

She hummed, contemplative before pressing her lips to the crook of your neck. “So mean to me baby.”

Her hands toyed with your belt loop, a painted nail hooking your shirt and slowly sliding it out from where it was tucked.

You sucked in a sharp breath. “Valerie.”

“What? Can’t I show my pretty baby some love on Valentines day?”

“Not while I’m cooking on a hot stove, little-miss-gropey.” A quick slap to her wrist with the wooden spoon made her yelp and yank her hands away from you.

“Bitch!”

You turned and pursed your lips. “Aww, poor baby, want me to kiss it better?”

She grumbled under her breath, taking in the splattered food on her wrist from the spoon before swiping her finger through it and bringing it to her mouth.

“Maybe you can kiss my ass instea- Oh, damn that’s good.”

Her eyes widened and you couldn’t help but laugh at the sight of such a high and mighty woman licking the back of her hand.

“Is that-”

“Basil?” She hummed at the taste. “I’m glad you enjoy it. It’s my father’s recipe.”

Valerie watched you as you cooked. Methodically adding each ingredient while humming along to the radio and swaying from side to side. 

“You don’t talk about him much.”

Valerie knew you were different than her and Maxwell. Your childhood wasn’t full of flashing cameras, propping questions, and hiding tears behind fake smiles to reporters. When your father was brought up in conversation, you didn’t bristle or change the subject. You would smile. 

She wasn’t jealous of that joy. That love you had from your family. She’s grateful for it, that amongst the struggles you had, there was also support and happiness. 

“He doesn’t come up in conversation often.” Valerie’s hands once more wrapped around your waist, but simply settled at your hips. Her body was flush with your own and she let her head rest on your shoulder, gently swaying with you as you continued to cook. 

“Tell me about him.”

She saw the small smile that graced your lips, mourning and grateful all at once as you spoke of him. 

“He used to say that as people, we’re a collection of those around us. The ones we’ve loved. All their little mannerisms and tics become a part of who we are. And that we do the same for other people who love us.” 

As you slowly set the pasta onto the bottom of the pan and began to layer the sauce, she wondered who you were an amalgamation of. Was the way you tilted your head back as you laughed from an old flame? 

Was the way you sang and shook your hips from a best friend when you were young, who you wished had been more?

Were the soft kisses you press to the tip of their noses something given to you? Or an act of love learned by watching your parents?

Did you have anything of hers? Of Max’s? 

Did they have anything of yours? 

“I see it in you and Max, yanno.” You stepped back to open the oven and settle the pan on the top rack before shutting it. “You both do a lil’ nose scrunch when you get angry.”

“What?” She drew back from your body, unintentionally wrinkling her nose in the process. “We do not.”

You pulled her close to your body again. Your arms settled around her waist as you slowly moved side to side. You hummed along to the smooth voice of Grover Washington Jr. that danced from the radio and filled the large kitchen, empty except for the two of you. 

“Sure do. You're also both very boujee-”

“Hey.”

“A touch temperamental-”

“I’ll give you that one but-"

“As well as emotionally constipated-”

“Excuse me?”

“And yet-” You hummed, letting your head drop forward to rest against hers, nose bumping against hers in a gentle caress- “I can’t help but love you both every damn day.”

Her blue eyes widened, before she groaned and shoved her face into your shirt. 

“You fucking sap.” She lifted her head to yours and kissed you. The melody curled around you as she wrapped her arms around your neck and tugged you flush against her. A soft moan broke from her lips as you ran your hands over the plush skin of her ass. 

You pulled away long enough to press a kiss to the tip of her nose, giggling when her face scrunched up in response. “Happy Valentine’s Day, Val."

Valerie Lord never thought she’d have this. This love and security. The ability to smile and kiss and dance on a Sunday night in the arms of a lover. She didn’t think she’d ever have a day where she felt love, a love she wasn’t afraid to admit. 

Especially to two people. 

The pair of you danced in silence, listening to the lyrics that serenaded the way you spun her and the laugh that bubbled up her chest her perfect, pinned, blonde curls came loose. 

And darling when the morning comes

And I see the morning sun

I wanna be the one with you.

When Maxwell came home, he noticed how quiet the house was. No chatter or footsteps along the hardwood floors. He knew what day it was, of course he did. He wasn’t an idiot. Valentine’s Day wasn’t a special day with the Lords. It never had been. 

But of course, that was before they met you.

Maxwell never saw that love with his parents. His mother was cold and cruel, and while his father was a good man, he knew he didn’t love her. He didn’t blame him for it. But now he felt it. The way his heart would hammer against his ribs so hard he wondered if you could hear him. The way all his stress and anger would melt away the moment Valerie’s hands held his face in a grasp like that used to carry a bird with a broken wing. 

He didn’t think it was possible to love. To desire and need somebody as much as he did you two. Now he did, and he wouldn’t go back to a life without it for all the money and power in the world. 

The sound of smooth sax caught his attention. Slowly, he set down his briefcase and followed the music until he found himself in front of the kitchen. 

This. Maxwell thought as he watched the two of you, your eyes shut as you held one another in a close embrace as swayed. This is why he did it all. 

The long hours, the greuling work and idiotic employees. If he could come home to this everyday, it’d all be worth it. 

He leaned against the doorway, watching you two until your own eyes opened and met his. 

“Happy to finally have you with us monopoly-man.”

He snorted at your lovingly crude nickname. “It was a long day at work.” Gone was the fake ‘apple-pie-and-picket-fence’ accent he forced himself to use at work when he spoke and you loved it. To see the real Maxwell was a privilege, one you would never take for granted. 

“Every day at work is a long day for you.”

Before he could retort, his wife unwrapped her arms from you and walked over to her husband. Valerie cupped his face in her hand and led him to her lips with a soft moan. Maxwell melted into the kiss with ease, all thoughts of work and conference calls vanished into thin air as his wife’s fingers carded through his hair. She pulled away with a wet pop and ran a thumb over the smudged lipstick on his face. 

“Happy Valentine’s Day, dear.”

Maxwell let his hand run over her bottom lip with a lazy smile. She was magnificent like this. Not preened or pinned or posed. She was messy and unkempt and happy. She never looked more breathtaking than in those moments. 

“Happy Valentine’s Day, honey.”

Her eyes flicked over his crisp suit and her sweet smile was replaced with a groan. 

“Son of a bitch you fuckers are matching!”

You shrieked with laughter while Valerie pointed an accusatory finger at the heart-covered tie that lay on her husband’s chest. 

“You tacky traitor!”

You leaned over and pressed your lips to his cheek, his hand coming to rest at the small of your back. 

“Aw don’t worry, Max. She’s just jealous she isn't matching with us.”

Valerie reared back. “I’ll be caught dead before I ever-”

“Alastair sent them to us.”

A moment of silence passed before she spoke again, more offended than annoyed. 

“And he didn’t send one for me?”

Maxwell smirked at his wife, fishing out a small white box and presenting it to her. 

“Our son knows his mother wouldn’t be caught dead in anything with gaudy patterns.” He opened the box and she took in the red heart earrings with a smile. 

Which was ultimately ruined by you. 

“Aw, he boujee just like his mama!”

Before either one could snap back at you, a small ding sounded through the kitchen and you moved quickly over to the oven. 

“You know-” Maxwell spoke as he put the earrings on his wife with gentle hands- “We have a chef for a reason.”

You brought out the pan and set it onto the stove, taking in the savory smell with a proud smile. 

“Well, fine then. Go get your cook to make you dinner if you want to complain.”

“Wait. Wait, no that not- that’s not what I meant- I’m starving, please.”

Valerie moved around her husband, taking a bottle of red wine and bumping his hip with hers. “Just set the table Maxwell, we both know how you can make it up to her later. It’s a special day after it all.”

Her husband loosened his tie and grinned at you in a way that made you think he wanted to eat you for dinner instead of the meal you prepared. 

“Lovely idea, darling.”

#maxwell lord #maxwell lord x oc #maxwell lord x reader #maxwell lord x you #valerie lord x reader #maxwell lord x valerie lord x reader #ROOSASUT #ww1984 #wonder women 1984 #fanfiction #max lord #maxwell lorenzano #tell me if i missed any tags lmao

[b1nightwing]

can we talk about how our idea of adult damian is ranging from

just like bruce but more self aware and more dramatic

just like dick but more self aware, more dramatic and can u believe it more friendly

In batman beyond damian is this big broody youngest brother who wants to help the world by conquering the league of shadows. He has no friends but the huge dragon bat doggie and he doesnt smile.

In dcseased dead planet he is friendly, likes to hug people, smiles, loves animals, would give kisses to doggies if he wasnt in the batman garb, knows when to be serious, knows how to be authoritative, still very dramatic, seems to have a healthy sense of humor and acknowledges his wrongdoings and understands that people arent as black and white as he thought they were when he was a kid. In dcseased dead planet he is the perfect combination of dick, bruce, alfred and talia but also so much himself.

Our idea of damian can range from little evil monster youngest child, "u have an old soul for your age" "thanks its the trauma", a kid that loves to jump in his loved ones arms like he sees them and he is like okaaaayyy lets gooooooo and he flings himself at them, a boy who knows the latest slang knows how to use tiktok and how to make memes and probably plays video games with his friends

The damian is the next evil mastermind is the least plausible of all of them. the writers who make him up to be a little grinch dont seem to understand how to write characters that arent one or the other. Its like they see damian say "you imbecile" and immediately connect him to evil (@ those writers: work on that trauma u stupid fck).

Those same writers also try to make duke and cass more independent while their characters still arent talked about much. While the perfect 3 white boys (which is funny since dick is romani) MUST stick to the batman shtick. No matter how much some writers try to make them more individualistic, dicks life in his nightwing solo is still always circling around batman, jason wears the bat symbol even tho u can see the distaste in his bat-past, i got no idea whats going on with tim but he too is always somewhere in bruce’ shadow. the race bias of it all

In fanfics i can see people write damian as this little genious who uses big words and doesnt understand how social media works which is really funny to me since we could see him use some slang in the comics, him searching for his hastag on twitter, him playing games, in the harley quinn cartoon he seemed to be the perfect upbeat youngest child of 7.

Now, whatever u think of adult!damian is possible but it seems like the sweet teenager who makes tiktoks and plays video games with his friends and feeds the 10+ stray cats in his street is more in character than the broody snooty "my dad, who is emotionally unavailable, is my hero" character

#damian wayne #dc comics #im going trough stuff #batman

[foxymoxynoona]

Amended Ch. 2

Read Chapter 1 here

SUMMARY: Getting into a bar fight is the least surprising part of Isabella's return home. She sure doesn't expect to run into her childhood friend turned high school enemy, now not just surprisingly a law-abiding citizen but a police officer. Things seem to be going great for him, but Isabella is struggling with more than a bar fight. A single mom with a sick grandmother, an alcoholic mother, an abusive ex, and a short fuse herself, matters are not helped that Jungkook seems to be everywhere. All the time. Especially every time Isabella messes up. Can she really believe him when he says he just wants to help?

Police officer! Jungkook x Single Mom Childhood Friend Named OC

CW: abusive parents, alcoholism, abusive exes, descriptions of childhood abuse, domestic violence, sexual abuse, illegal acts, side character death, discussions/references to underage sexual activity/alcohol use/drug use, teen pregnancy, explicit sexual content

Also hosted on AO3 under foxymoxy. Not sure if I’ll keep posting on tumblr or not, but I thought I’d try it out!

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The morning had not been going well. At all.

The kids had overslept. 

Ok, maybe Isabella had overslept too.

Grandma had not overslept but had been in a bit of a mental fog, so Isabella had plied her with bananas and water as suggested by the nurses, while running around frantically to get the kids’ things pulled together. While they dawdled, of course, as if they had nowhere in the world to be. They couldn’t find their socks. They didn’t want frozen waffles for breakfast. They didn’t want to go to their first days of school, they wanted to just watch cartoons while Isabella struggled to be a morning person like most days.

But she’d done it, she got them dressed and fed and out the door, only having to double back for forgotten bags once. And while it was a whirlwind drop off at two different schools, she made it, and made it home just as Grandma was finishing her morning coffee and ready for a lift to her bible study, and just in time to shower to get dressed for her first day of work.

Except she’d underestimated how far the bible study was, and realized as soon as Grandma was shuffled inside that she was going to be late. For her first day of work. So she booked it into high gear…

And it landed her here. Pulled over to the side of the road with the cop car lights flashing through the back windshield. She let out an angry groan and let her head rest against the steering wheel. Now she would definitely be late.

A knock on her window got her to look up, only to huff, “You have got to be fucking kidding me.” She cranked her window down, actions snappish and pissy, as Jungkook waited with raised eyebrows and a narrow stare.

“Isabella.”

“Are you fucking kidding me?” she sighed again, in case he hadn’t heard her earlier.

“That’s my question,” he said. “Do you have any idea how fast you were going, ma’am?”

“Thirty.”

“Bullshit,” he snorted.

“Do you know how fast I was going?”

He glared and answered, “Fifty-four in a thirty.”

“Not me, officer.”

“Isabella--”

“I’d like to see your radar gun readout and a clear photo of--”

“Isabella,” he sighed and made an exasperated noise. 

“There was another car going much faster than me, probably you picked that one up.”

“Used to arguing your way out of tickets, huh?”

“I doubt the other way out of tickets would work with you.”

“Oh? And what would that be? Maybe… not speeding and earning them in the first place?” he suggested. And he just looked so fucking smug. 

She gave him an equally smug grin and prompted, “Radar read out and dashboard cam, please.”

“License and registration, please.”

“Jungkook,” she grunted. “I’m late for work. It’s my first day.”

“Work, huh? Where’s that.”

“Target. Ever been? There’s a pharmacy, they have vaseline that could help you get that stick out of your--”

He sighed and rested his hands on the window frame, “Isabella. Why are you antagonizing me? I’m a cop. You’re speeding.”

“You are a cop, but I was not speeding.”

“Goddamn you are as infuriating as you were in high school.”

“Look,” she sighed, deciding to try a different tactic. “Fine, you want to try the other way? There’s a gas station up ahead, behind the dumpster there aren’t cameras. My backseat has a kid booster but you can probably turn your car cam off, right?”

“Jesus Christ,” he groaned, pushing away from her car and scratching at his hair. “Can you stop trying to bribe your way out of a ticket?!”

“Oh. So you admit that sounds like an appealing bribe? I just meant it as a friendly offer but--”

“Ok, look. I’m going to let you off with a warning this one time. Do you hear me?” 

Isabella bit her tongue so as not to point out that she vaguely thought she recalled him telling her the other night it was her one warning. Instead she made her eyes very big and nodded.

“Yes, sir. Thank you, sir. Officer, sir.”

“Just because if I give you a ticket I have to stand here and deal with you for fifteen more minutes.”

“I am so grateful--”

“But look, slow down, ok? You’re going to hit someone and this tin can you’re driving isn’t going to protect you. You can’t show up here and just break the law when you feel like it.” 

She bit her tongue so hard it hurt. That was rich, real rich coming from a delinquent she’d covered for plenty of times. Probably he knew that, because he arched his eyebrow and waited, as if to see if she could resist. She lifted her chin and set her jaw and held it in. He watched her a moment longer.

“Have a nice day, ma’am. Take it easy.” He patted the roof of her car like a true and genuine police asshole, and sauntered back to his vehicle. Isabella cranked up her window.

“You fucker, you definitely didn’t actually have me on radar and how dare you preach at me about--”

The siren blipped once, cutting off her monologue. She glared at him through the rearview mirror and quickly pulled away, waiting until she’d lost him behind a turn to take off again, in an attempt to make up for lost time and not lose her job on the first fucking day.

It wasn’t until she parked she realized she’d forgotten to take her wallet out of one of the kids’ backpacks before dropping them off.

---------------------

Isabella’s legs hurt. Her back hurt. Her head hurt. She was too tired for this. She kept glancing at the clock, but there were hours left in her shift still. Ezra and Lily would have arrived at afterschool care by now. The nurse would have picked up Grandma from bible study long ago. Everyone was fine. But she was tired and desperate for coffee and didn’t have a break coming up any time soon.

She plastered on a smile, ringing up the woman in her line, but the woman was on her phone and not paying attention anyway so she let it slide away. The woman bought razors, deodorant, several bottles of wine, a carton of Goldfish, and a box of tampons. Isabella rang everything up, turned the bags on the carousel so the woman could loop them over the hand holding her car keys, and held the receipt out. 

“Have a nice day,” she said.

“Uh huh,” the woman nodded and walked away, flicking her hand a little like Isabella was a gnat. 

She hadn’t looked at the next person in line yet, just reached for the bag of shrimp chips and then immediately froze.

“Are you fucking--” She looked up as she spoke, knowing instinctively it was Jungkook, but trailed off upon finding him holding a little girl. He raised his eyes and gave her a crooked grin.

“What was that?” he asked. The little girl stared at her with similar wide eyes.

“Uh… are you following me?” she asked, deciding to ignore his look. “I told you where I work. Are you checking up on me?!”

He gave her a teasing glare, “Are you always this paranoid?” She rolled her eyes. “You didn’t card that woman.”

“Oh my god, are you kidding me right now? She was clearly over 21.”

“I don’t know,” he tsked, looking after the woman. “White people, it’s hard to tell your ages.”

Isabella licked her lips in annoyance to keep from saying worse, and then smiled at the little girl, “Your dad is a real charmer, huh?”

The girl’s face instantly screwed up and she argued, “He’s not my dad, he’s my uncle!”

“Ah. Oh!” Before she could even ask, Jungkook’s older sister set one final thing on the belt, then did a double take.

“Isabella!” she greeted. “Hello!”

“Um, hi Youngsoon.” Isabella immediately blushed. Youngsoon was even more beautiful than she’d been as a young adult. Youngsoon had always been so beautiful and cool. Isabella had spent a lot of years lamenting she couldn’t be a beautiful Korean woman like her, certain Jungkook’s older sister belonged in the movies. Embarrassed, she quickly began scanning items.

“Jungkook didn’t mention you were back in town. How are you?”

“I’m well,” she answered reflexively, only glancing up. She did not appreciate the smug grin Jungkook still had. What did he have to be smug about? She glared at him.

“She thought Uncle Gukka was my dad,” the little girl giggled, flinging her arms around Uncle Gukka’s neck. 

“Yuck,” Jungkook teased, scrunching her face up at her. To be fair, the little girl was clearly a Jeon. But it made sense that she was a baby Youngsoon; she was beautiful, just like her mother, not goobery like Jungkook… well, like he had been when they were younger, anyway...

“Sora, this woman is an old friend of Uncle Gukka’s,” Youngsoon said with a smile. “She was Uncle Gukka’s very first friend in America.”

“Your first friend was a girl?” Sora asked with surprise.

Jungkook gave her a serious look and said, “I didn’t know it at the time.”

“Hey,” Isabella glared. But she didn’t stop scanning items, in a hurry to finish up so they could go away. She was very nervous now having Jungkook and Youngsoon both here. Jungkook she didn’t mind aggravating but seeing Youngsoon left her feeling… insignificant.

But Youngsoon, perfectly at ease chatting, continued, “Have you moved back permanently?”

“I don’t know,” she admitted. “We’re here with my grandmother right now. I just-- it was easy to transfer to the store since I already work at Target, so I’m just picking up some shifts…” God, it was mortifying. Mortifying. Not only was she standing there scanning their items in her stupid khakis and red polo shirt, but talking about picking up shifts… Youngsoon had been in medical school back then. And now Jungkook was a cop. 

“We?”

“Oh, um… me and my children.”

“Oh! How old are you children?” Youngsoon continued. “I have two --Sora here is--”

“I’m five,” Sora announced.

“Five,” Youngsoon finished with a fond smile. “And I have a two year old boy.” The last item had been rung up and placed in the bag and Isabella had succeeded in not looking at Jungkook for several minutes now; even when Sora had spoken and she’d reflexively look at the little girl, she’d managed to blur his face from view. Gukka’s very first friend in America. What a silly thing to mention. Pokemon. They’d bonded over fucking Pokemon.

But Youngsoon looked at her expectantly and Isabella had always admired her so much and found herself admitting, “I have two. Eight and four.”

“Oh, are they in school? Or will you not be here that long?”

“Yeah, I-- they started school today actually. Since I don’t know how long we’ll be here, I didn’t want them to miss out.”

“Is your younger one in kindergarten?”

“No, Pre-K still but through public school.”

“It was their first day today?” Jungkook asked, tricking her into looking at him. She gave a nod and turned to push the button on the screen as Youngsoon pulled out her wallet to pay. She tried not to sulk but thought that might be why he snorted and then sighed, “You shouldn’t have been speeding.”

“It’s my first day of work too and I was going maybe three over--”

“Twenty-four over,” he clarified. 

“Show me the radar receipt.”

He let out an exasperated sigh, “I let you off with a warning, didn’t I?”

“Yeah because I said--”

“Not because of anything you said,” he corrected instantly, giving her a wide-eyed and pointed stare. 

“--you wanted me to shut up,” she grinned cheekily, grabbing the receipt as it printed out. 

Youngsoon gave her a gentle smile though, because she’d always been kind, and assured her, “Mornings are hard. Sorry it sounds like a tough one.” She took the receipt. “I’m really glad to run into you though. We should get our kids together for a play date! Sora and your youngest are so close in age.”

“Oh. Um…” She hadn’t expected that. Why would she suggest that? She’d hurried so Youngsoon could finish being polite and leave.

“Let me give you my number,” she said instead, digging around in her wallet and then pulling out a business card. “You can text or call my cell that’s listed there.”

“Ok. Um, thanks, sure. Things are a little busy right now but--”

Jungkook snickered and made a face at his sister, “Soona, she doesn’t want to bring her kids around.”

“My kids are wonderful,” Isabella defended hotly, feeling anger charge through her body. Her cheeks flushed with it. It surprised him, he didn’t hide that from his face.

“Uh, I-- I didn’t mean it like that,” he assured her. He shifted Sora to his other arm and scratched his cheek. 

Sora seemed oblivious to the awkward exchange as she asked Isabella, “Do you have a boy or a girl?”

“I have one of each. My daughter is the one close to your age.”

“Does she like princesses or cars or both?” Sora asked. Youngsoon laughed gently and pressed her hand to Jungkook’s arm to nudge them along, but motioned to the business card in Isabella’s hand.

“Do call or text.”

“Ok. Yeah. I will.”

Jungkook didn’t say anything more, even goodbye. He’d picked up both bags though after dumping Sora to the ground; she took her mother’s hand and waved to Isabella as the three of them left the store.

Isabella’s cheeks blazed as she turned her attention to the next customer, an older woman who looked vaguely familiar but didn’t seem to recognize Isabella. That was good. She hadn’t thought about how many people she’d see at Target, she’d just been thinking about the ease of picking up shifts and making money because she needed to. 

Embarrassed, she tossed the business card in the trash under her till.

-----------------------

Isabella stretched out on the couch next to Grandma once the kids were in bed a half hour later than she had wanted. That wasn’t too bad. The house felt strangely silent without their voices and pounding footsteps rattling the walls, but it was nice to be able to let out her breath and relax and not try to look like a Responsible Adult. 

Grandma hummed happily and laced her fingers into Isabella’s hair, holding her tea mug in the other hand.

“That better be decaf,” Isabella warned.

“My, you’re a bossy little thing,” Grandma chuckled. 

“I just don’t want you having caffeine nightmares, and you’re barely sleeping as it is--”

“Yes, yes, I know. Nothing but sleepy herbs in this. Would you like some?”

“I’m so wiped, I won’t need any help falling asleep.”

“Go to bed now.”

“Nah, I’ll sit up with you a little longer,” Isabella insisted and sat up, certain the way her grandmother stroked her hair would put her to sleep otherwise. She’d gone so many years without getting to sit with her grandma like this, she wouldn’t trade it for a little extra sleep now that she could.

“Well I heard all about the first day of school from the children at dinner, but how was your first day of work?”

Isabella shrugged, “It’s just Target. It’s the same everywhere you go-- hey, you know who I keep running into?”

“Who?”

“Jungkook. Do you remember him?”

“Of course I remember him.”

“Did you know he’s a cop now?”

“Yes, I knew,” her grandmother confirmed, smiling and nodding. “Why is that so surprising? He’s a sweet boy.”

“Uh, he was sweet when we were eleven. Then he became a raging asshole…”

“Bella,” Grandma scolded, giving her a look about her language.

“Grandma, he was a troublemaker in high school. What the hell made him become a cop? He hated cops! He never showed the slightest interest in becoming a cop and now suddenly he’s lecturing me about…” She trailed off, not wanting to admit to her grandmother about what she’d been up to and realizing she almost had.

Grandma gave her a coyly arched eyebrow and pressed, “About what, my darling granddaughter?”

“Nothing.”

“Maybe the fight you had last Thursday--”

“Grandmaaa,” Isabella sighed. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

“I’m sure you don’t! But I know what a hangover is, my dear, and I don’t think you were using make up to cover bites from an amorous lover--”

“Grandma!” This time she broke off with a laugh and gave her grandmother a gentle, playful shove. “What do you know about amorous bites?”

“Oh, to be young and think you know everything--”

“I’m not young, I’m old,” Isabella sighed and let her head drop to her grandmother’s shoulder. “I stopped being young when I was fourteen. I just have a hard time believing Jungkook grew up enough to be a cop. He still seems like a smarmy asssss...” She’d tried to change the word to something else and couldn’t think of anything on the spot, just dragged the s out awkwardly long.

“Nonsense. Being a cop doesn’t mean you grew up, it just means you passed some tests and they gave you a badge and a gun.”

“Oof. Careful, Grandma! That sounds remarkably progressive. What will the old ladies in your bible study group say? How dare you flaunt authority?”

Grandma laughed and admitted, “Perhaps it is a little tough when you find yourself so much older than authority.”

“I bet he can’t even grow a beard yet.”

“He tried, briefly, a few years ago,” Grandma admitted, grinning when Isabella giggled. “You’re still very young too, sweetheart, you just grew up fast. But someday you’ll look back in disbelief of how young you still were right now, thinking like that.”

“Don’t talk cryptically, Grandma. You’ll make me panic.”

“No, no, I won’t die on you tonight,” the older woman teased, earning a glare from Isabella. “I just find your disbelief he grew up and started a career is amusing. You grew up and got a career and have two children!”

“I hardly think working at Target counts as a career. I’m not even a manager.”

“You could be!”

“No,” Isabella sighed. “I can’t be. I take too many sick days. I mean honestly I was probably about to get fired at my store in New York. It’s a blessing you wanted me to come home. Don’t think for a second I did it for you.”

Grandma grinned, “Oh yes, of course. My selfish granddaughter, only ever doing things for herself.”

Isabella sighed. She knew her grandmother was teasing her. But she did feel selfish. All the time. Every part of her life felt like jumping from one selfish decision to the next, hurting everyone within reach. That was her legacy, wasn’t it? Even her two children, who she would have moved heaven and earth for, suffered because she just couldn’t quite get her shit together. And why couldn’t she get her shit together? Because she kept making bad decisions. Even now, she really had uprooted her children to move home because selfishly she wanted whatever time she had left with her grandmother, even if it meant dividing what little energy and attention she had for her children even further. And selfishly, too, it was a break on rent, which she’d been struggling to make before.

“I didn’t mean that,” her grandmother whispered. “I’m teasing you, Isabella. You’re a good girl with a big heart. Be kind to yourself. I’m glad you’re home, I’m just sad a mini seizure is what brought you home.”

“It wasn’t mini, Grandma.”

“And don’t be too hard on Jungkook. I think he’s made a sincere effort to leave his high school behavior in high school.”

“It would be easier not to be hard on him if he would stop following me everywhere. I swear, he’s like a plague. A shadow!”

Grandma grinned, “Then it’s just like when you were twelve again.”

“God, I hope not. Twelve is the worst age when you’re a girl.”

“It’s not too kind to boys either.”

“Jungkook came out on the right side of it.”

“Oh, do you think he’s handsome now?” her grandmother asked, and Isabella felt the snicker against her scalp.

“No. I meant after puberty, the girls in high school did! He’s ugly now.”

“Isabella.”

“So ugly. Stupid face.”

“Isabella,” her grandmother laughed.

“What! He was probably thinking the same things when he saw me. Wow, she got ugly and old and fat--”

“Ok, missy, I’m cutting you off,” her grandmother said, nudging her to get her to sit up. “Go to bed.”

“What! Cutting me off from what, I’m not drinking anything.”

“From thoughts like that. You are beautiful and hard-working and you have two perfect children.”

“I know, I know.”

“You are kicking ass.”

“Grandmaaa,” Isabelle laughed. 

“I’m eighty-six, I can say ass for once.”

“That’s twice!”

“Ah, better call Officer Jeon to arrest me--”

Isabella pretended to vomit, “Never call him Officer Jeon again. He’s an idiot. He’s so… smug. He thinks he’s better than me--”

“Bella, honey.”

“Hm?”

“You’re not sixteen anymore and neither is he. Let it rest.”

Isabella didn’t quite know what her grandmother meant by that. There was plenty she could imply. But while she had no problem assuming intent on Jungkook’s part because he’d been such an absolute asshole in high school, she didn’t want to read anything in what her grandmother said now that could either defend Jungkook or embarrass herself. 

“Fine,” Isabella conceded. “Anyway, I probably won’t see him again. Unless he really is stalking me and then I’ll get a restraining order.”

“That’s my girl,” Grandma laughed and kissed her forehead. “Now to bed. We have to do this all again tomorrow.”

“Wait, the kids have to go to school again?”

It made Grandma laugh, and Isabella was glad to see that. Honestly maybe it was all a little hammed up, even talking about Jungkook, because her grandmother was in constant pain at this point, and any little smile she could get from her was a victory. 

“Ok, let me help you up to bed, Grandma. Tomorrow is another day. I’m sure it’ll be better.”

“So, guess who’s back in town?” Youngsoon brought up at dinner. Jungkook groaned and threw his napkin at her before she said anything further, earning a pinch on the arm from his mom. It wasn’t even weekly family dinner night, so Jungkook had thought it would be safe to go to his parents’ place to mooch food, but Youngsoon had also decided to come over with her kids because her husband had a night out with the guys or whatever. 

She’d waited until they were halfway through the meal, once the kids had finished and run off to play noisily in the living room, to bring it up. As if just to lure Jungkook into the false sense of getting away with it. But at his parents’ curious prompt, Youngsoon answered,

“Isabella Desmond. She’s staying with her grandmother.”

“Isabella Desmond! How is she?”

“Why are you looking at me?” Jungkook grumbled, shoving tempura in his mouth. 

“You already knew?”

Jungkook made a face and admitted, “Yeah, I already knew… she’s… struggling, it seems.”

“Struggling how?” his mother pressed. “It must be hard with her grandmother in poor health…”

“Working at Target doesn’t mean she’s struggling,” Youngsoon countered, leveling a look at Jungkook.

“No, I think she’s struggling because-- I don’t know,” he shrugged. On second thought, he didn’t want to get into it. “Just seems like she has a lot on her plate.”

“She’s got two kids,” Youngsoon informed his parents. “Eight and four, she said. I asked her to give me a call for a playdate.”

“Ah, that’s good. It would be good to see her again. She was always such a good friend to Gukka,” his father said. Jungkook sighed and rolled his eyes, earning a swift kick from his mom beneath the table even before his father teased, “Even when Gukka was not a good friend.”

“I was always a great friend. I’m still a great friend. I let her off with warnings twice.”

“Twice? One was for a speeding ticket. What was the other one?” Youngsoon immediately caught because of course she did.

Jungkook gave her a smug grin, “Sorry, can’t disclose, official police business.”

“Well if she calls you, please invite her over to supper,” his mother suggested. “Her and the children and her grandmother. It would be good to see them all again.”

Jungkook clicked his teeth and said, “She’s not going to call you, Soona. And it’s for the best, just let her be. She’s not in a good place right now.”

“Ok.” Youngsoon gave him a serious look. “Then… help her.”

“I did. I gave her warnings twice.”

“That’s not helping, that’s enabling--”

Jungkook sighed, “She’s not my responsibility.”

“It’s not good,” his mother argued. “She was such a good friend to you when we first moved here. It felt like I didn’t even have a son anymore because you were always off in that treehouse playing together. We bought that Nintendo just to lure you both into the house.”

“Ma, we were twelve and also it was a PlayStation, you can’t just call all video game systems Nintendo. And we don’t owe each other anything because we were old Pokemon buddies. She’s not doing me any favors either.”

“What favors do you want her to do?” Youngsoon asked, bright-eyed.

“Ma, Soona’s being dirty.”

“Soona, behave.”

“I’m just--”

“Yes, I know, I know.”

“She’s pretty, mom. You should have seen Gukka’s grin when we saw her in Target--”

“Bull--- hockey,” Jungkook glared. “She’s a menace. You should have heard her talking her way out of the parking ticket. Demanding to see the radar gun…”

Jungkook’s dad grinned, “Well? Did it work?”

“Wha-- it worked because I was being nice and gave her a warning.”

“You didn’t have a radar gun,” his dad nodded.

“She was clearly speeding but… no… I didn’t…”

“Ah, she was always a clever girl,” his mother laughed. “I hope she is ok. Keep an eye out for her, Gukka. You say you don’t owe her anything? We always owe kindness to the people who were kind to us.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he sighed, shaking his head. “I let her off with a warning twice… I don’t know what more you want me to do…”

“Whatever your heart says you should,” his mother beamed at him. Absolutely infuriating. 

Fortunately Soona’s kids ran shrieking into the room, bickering about who broke the TV remote, and Jungkook was saved from further interrogation.

#amended #mywriting #jungkook ff #jungkook fanfic #myao3 #cop!jungkook

[discotenny]

!^Dazai with a BSD fan MC^!

Dazai with an MC who is a big fan of Bungo Stray Dogs

TW for suicide mention

Requested by ! @memekingofwwiii !

PSA: While I’m unsure if Ikevamp_Dazai has the same circumstances surrounding his death as the real Dazai, for the sake of writing this tastefully let’s just say Ikevamp_Dazai suffers from depression, but he had died of natural causes rather than suicide [just to explain the first scene here]

Dazai

“OH You’re Dazai Osamu correct?! There’s this guy from my favorite anime inspired by you! Same name and everything. Wow you’re cuter than him— Anyways you sorta remind me of him but without all the angst and double suicide stuff”

He’s a little caught off guard

Scratch that

He’s extremely caught off gaurd

Resting his arms on the window sill, he leaned back onto the window he just entered from. Waiting for him to speak, he doesn’t as Dazai immediately flings himself back through the window again

You stand there with your broom, an empty look on your face

“Had I said something wrong?”

You don’t see him for the rest of the day, and you ponder on his abrupt exit before Theo pulls you aside to ask what’s up

“Both you and Dazai are being really quite today, and for two yapping puppies that’s quite a massive feat. Whats going on”

“I don’t know what happened. One second I was talking to him about stuff from my time and the next he’s flinging himself out a window!” You do a large gesture to the window beside you two

Theo pinches his nose bridge and sighs. “whatever you said to him obviously caught him off gaurd. Next time just think before you speak, please. That is assuming you can even think,” he mutters that last part to himself

He leaves you there, and you make up your mind that you have to apologize to Dazai if you want to ever speak to him again

After apologizing though, you and Dazai were inseparable

You followed him around, gleefully answering his questions of current day culture, literature, and this ‘stray dog’ cartoon you had raved so much about

He constantly forgets what it’s called, so you two eventually have it known as the dog cartoon

The rest of the residents take notice of your sudden friendship with Dazai

Arthur gets a little jealous, and attempts to join in on the conversation

However, Arthur swiftly leaves as he hears you go off about a tiger fight inside of a giant whale

While the most of the men are sort of scared by your conversations with Dazai, there is one who’s intrigued with the future

Isaac often finds himself stalking following you and Dazai, absolutely fascinated by what the future has to offer

Baby thinks that the contraptions you talk about are real and begins too question if humans in the future actually have superpowers dkdkdk

Vincent as well is interested by the future media. More often than not he’ll politely intrude in on you and Dazai’s conversations on present day art

You tell the two of them about anime, and while Dazai is honored that a popular character is named and inspired by him; Vincent tries his hand at attempting the anime artstyle dkdkd

Daddy Comte does give some insight and opinions on present day media, but he tends to watch by as you and Dazai talk to each other

You two have tea parties together, and he never gets old of hearing your theories, ships, and explanations of all the anime you enjoy watching

He’s especially interested in the dark era version of bsd Dazai, and spends hours discussing the character with you

The two of you grow to be very close friends, and when it’s time for you to leave [assuming he doesn’t choose to gi with you] you give him your favorite Dazai pin 🥺🥺🥺🥺

!Hallo bb! Sorry these are really bad dkdkdkdk. Apologies these also took hella long time to complete lol. I hope you enjoy[ed] BSD! It’s one of my favorite animes to watch and Ranpo got me like 🥰.

Also in old Mod Ioten fashion I sorta strayed away from the prompt whoops;;; hope it was still enjoyable~~

#ikemen vampire #ikevamp dazai #ikevamp dazai x reader #ikevamp x reader #ikevamp headcanons #ikevamp scenarios #ikevam dazai #dazai x reader #ikemen vampire imagines #ikemen vampire x reader #ikemen vampire headcanon #ikevamp #tw

[cagestark]

Ok here's my prompt: college winterironspider, established winterspider and they want to do a trio costume with Tony as a way to show him they want him 💕💕

A late Halloween Prompt whipped up in thanks for boosting my friend’s rpg. Thank you! (Also you all say that Halloween is a 365 day event so 3 days late shouldn’t stop you right? ;)

Warnings: homophobia including slurs, some mention of smuttiness but nothing explicit, foul language. WinterIronSpider. 3.6k.

-

Tony flings open the dorm room door, already toeing off his sodden shoes. New England weather could turn on dime, and it had a habit of turning unfavorable on the 15 minute trek from the Chem labs back to his dorm room. His shirt is sticking to his skin, jeans heavy with rain. He can feel his hair, getting just this side of too long for how Howard likes it, dripping down the back of his neck.

Mother Nature hates him, and she’s not the only one, because Peter Parker is lounging on Tony’s roommate’s bed. Bucky is nowhere in sight, but the bathroom door is closed, so deductive reasoning is barely required. They’ve probably been fucking; the room has that musty scent that makes him twitch in his wet pants. Parker lays among the mussed sheets and blankets like the pillow princess he must be, curls riotous, beaming at the sight of Tony.

“Hey, Tony,” says Parker in the softest, cracking voice that Tony’s ever heard come from a nineteen-year-old. He blinks dazed, whiskey-colored eyes. “Y’re all wet.”

“I know. Where’s Barnes?”

“Bathroom.”

Tony hums. Barnes liked to take ridiculously long showers, conditioning his ridiculously long hair, moisturizing his ridiculously huge and attractive body. The guy was the antithesis to his boyfriend, large where Parker was small, dark where he was light, brooding where Parker was a goddamn ray of sunshine sneaking in through a crack in the curtains and blinding Tony. With Barnes in the shower, Tony is stuck shivering in his wet clothes, wishing he’d stayed out in the downpour and smoked a cigarette. Instead, he just sits on his bed—his sheets have seen worse than some rainwater. Opening up his bookbag, he sees that his textbooks are unscathed. Thank fucking God.

All the time, he feels Parker’s eyes on him. The kid is too pretty for his own good—both he and his boyfriend. When he came to MIT, he had envisioned dozens of nightmare scenarios regarding roommates. Maybe they’d steal his clothes, eat his food, leave their hair in the drain. Instead, he’d gotten a goddamn Calvin Klein model and his twink. Sometimes, Tony had to lay awake facing the wall on his side of the dorm room, pretending he didn’t hear the breathy giggles and dirty, foul whispers as the two fooled around while their roommate was ‘sleeping’. It left him unbearably hard, determined not to rut into the mattress lest they find out that he was still awake (and stop, God, please don’t stop—).

It was all very, very fucked up: how much Tony liked them; how much it made him hate them.

“You’re gonna catch pneumonia,” Parker says.

“What do you want me to do about it, kid?” Tony asks. He’s only three years older than Parker, but the kid seems so young—the enthusiasm, the naivete, the buoyancy. Tony can’t help but call him kid.

Parker raises his eyebrows. “It’s your room. Take off your clothes.”

Tony stops where he’s flipping through his textbook. He lets it fall closed with a thud, assessing Parker’s gaze. He looks innocent enough, maybe a little sleepy, but he wasn’t dumb by any means (a full ride to MIT proved that). Surely he had to know how that sounded, for him to tell his boyfriend’s roommate to undress in front of him.

“In front of you, Parker? I’ll take the pneumonia.”

The kid just grins, shaking his head. “Whatever. Are you going to the Halloween Party at Delta Psi?”

“Everybody is going to the Halloween Party at Delta Psi,” Tony answers flatly.

“Are you going to wear a costume?”

“Fuck no.”

“Because you have no idea what to wear, right.”

Tony rolls his eyes. “You’re a shit, Parker. So, what if I don’t? I’m an engineer; what do I need to dress up for?”

“I’m dressing Bucky; I could dress you too.”

“Yeah,” Tony snarks. “That’s just what I want.”

The bathroom door opens. Bucky appears in nothing but a towel around his hips. His abs violate state and federal laws—or at least if they don’t, they should. His hair is wet and up in a bun. Eyes like the ocean iced over drag up and down Tony’s body, making him feel heated despite the goosebumps on his skin. Tony is keenly aware of how his nipples have hardened, somewhere between the icy downpour and the sight of Parker looking fucked out on the twin-sized bed.

“Took you long enough,” Tony mutters. He grabs some clothes from the drawer and disappears into the bathroom, cranking the shower (and the drain is spotless because Barnes is a fucking good guy who cleans up after himself, the asshole) up to hellish proportions and peeling his wet clothes from his body. On the other side of the door are warm voices that are easy enough to tune out, or to tune into when he’s standing under the burning spray with a hand on his cock.

-

When he gets out of the shower, Parker is gone back to his own dorm. Bucky is eating a bowl of cereal, still shirtless. The words come out of Tony’s mouth before he can stop them: “Barnes, I think your boyfriend hit on me when you were in the shower. I just thought you might want to know that.”

Barnes stops chewing. He’s got the best poker face Tony has ever seen, no hint of anger or jealousy or surprise. His jaw closes again with an obscene, sugary crunch. After he swallows, he says, “Thanks, Tony. You’re a good friend.”

-

The first package arrives two days later. It’s for Tony, with no return address. He rolls his eyes—that’s just like his mother to be so dramatic as to not even say she’s sending him anything nor leave her mark. When he opens it though, there are no deliciously baked treats, no heartfelt (maybe a little distant) cards with carefully crafted handwriting, no trinkets that are hideous which he will be forced to cherish. Instead, it’s the ugliest pair of pants he’s ever seen: straight-legged and a size too big for him and a dirty gray.

“The fuck, mom,” Tony mutters. He tosses them aside. “Really off your game, crazy old bat.”

But when Barnes gets out of class and spots the box sitting on Tony’s desk, he points to it. “Did you get the first part of your costume?”

“Excuse me?”

“Your costume?” Bucky enunciates more, the fucking asshole, like Tony didn’t hear him the first time. “Peter told me that you said you were cool with him getting you a costume. He gets really fucking into Halloween. I saw this picture of him up in his Aunt’s apartment in Queens—”

Tony holds up a hand. “Stop. Rewind. I in no way told Parker he could dress me up for Halloween. Period.”

Barnes just raises his eyebrows. “That’s not what Peter thinks.”

“I couldn’t care less what he thinks, I’m not some doll for him to play with.”

“Next time he’s over, you can tell him so.” The guy’s pale eyes fucking glitter—glitter—like he knows that’s not going to go over well for Tony. And maybe it won’t, maybe Tony’s going to have to break some fucking hearts, but there’s no chance in hell he’s going to be caught dead in a costume, especially not one picked by a doe-eyed little twink like Parker.

But when Parker arrives for his date with Bucky two hours later, pink-cheeked from the windy cold, he’s got another little box tucked under his arm that he thrusts into Tony’s hands.

Tony thrusts it back. “Nope. Don’t want it.”

Parker frowns, looking up at Tony with those flat brows curled in confusion. “What do you mean? It’s for your costume.”

Barnes watches everything through the reflection in the mirror he keeps by his bed. He’s currently combing his hair like a schmuck (fuck, he looks so handsome), mouth pressed into a flat line, though Tony suspects that it’s more from holding back laughter than expressing any discontent. Tony chooses a point on the wall above Parker’s head and stares at it. The kid’s got eyes like vortexes, and Tony isn’t getting sucked in, no sir, not today.

“No costume. I’m not wearing a costume.”

“Sure you are, I’ve already bought the stuff. It’s started to arrive—did you get the pants?”

“Pants? Is that what they’re called? They’re hideous—” Barnes makes a noise in the corner that has Tony throwing a fuming glare his way. “I’m not going to wear them, or anything else. So return the stuff, kid.”

Parker stares down at the small package in his hands. “I—I can’t. I had it expedited so that it would get here in time for Halloween. No returns.”

“No re—? Well, fuck. That’s not my problem. I didn’t ask you to buy me stuff for a costume. What the hell were you going to dress me up as, anyway? A corpse from the 80’s?”

When Parker looks up, his eyes are a little misty. He rubs at one with his forearm, probably scratching himself with the wool from his coat. “It was gonna be a surprise.”

And yep. There it is. That does Tony in, because as much as Tony wishes he was the no good cruel piece of shit that plenty of people around MIT and the New England area like to label him as, he’s a sucker for tears. He’s seen his mom cry too many times, it just—it gets to him.

Tony snatches the package out of the kid’s hands. He points a finger at him. “No cartoon characters. No cross-dressing. No dorky inanimate objects, like a fork or a wet floor sign. Got it? Swear to God, kid, if you embarrass me in front of the whole school, I will never forgive you.”

“Why would I want to embarrass you?” Parker asks. He holds out a pinky. “It’s not embarrassing. Promise.”

“Fuck your pinky, man. Go on your date. Get out—you too Barnes, I don’t want to see either of your faces for like, two hours or something. Swear to God. I’m at the end of my rope, do you hear me? The end of my fucking rope.”

-

In the box is a scarf, long and plain and red. Tony rolls his eyes and sets it with the pants.

That night when he returns from his evening class, he finds that Barnes and his boyfriend have dragged all the blankets off of Bucky’s bed and onto the floor creating the warmest, coziest looking nest Tony’s ever seen. It looks like a slice of Heaven after coming in from the brutal cold. The best spot of all looks to be somewhere in between Barnes who is sprawled on his back, one arm behind his head and the other outstretched, and Peter who lays with his head cushioned on that ridiculous bicep. The size different between the two of them makes Tony’s mouth go dry.

On the wall, a Star Wars movie plays: The Empire Strikes Back.

Parker leans his head up, blinking at the sight of Tony in the doorway. He smiles, so soft and sweet that it hurts. “Hey Tony,” he says. He pats the blanket beside him. “Want to join us? There’s room.”

Tony hasn’t the slightest idea what to make of that. Not even a little one. Doesn’t Parker know how awkward that would be? For Tony to just cuddle in a pillow fort with Barnes and his boyfriend? Doesn’t Parker know how much that would hurt—

“No, I’ve got somewhere to be,” Tony lies. He steps out the door he had just came through and shuts it behind him. The library is always open on campus, and Tony falls asleep bent over the table there, cheek pressed into a book about the latest breakthroughs in Artificial Intelligence.

-

The next day arrives a plain white t-shirt in a plastic bag. Begrudgingly, Tony tries it on. It clings to his chest and the gentle six-pack he sports (nothing like Barnes who spends five days a week at the on-campus gym and drinks protein shakes in the morning). Turning sideways, he eyes himself in the mirror. At least this doesn’t look bad, certainly not with the way it clings to his biceps, but he will be fucking freezing.

Barnes comes in and catches Tony checking himself out in the mirror. For a moment, Tony thinks that maybe Barnes is checking him out, too, but—

“Looks good,” Bucky purrs. Making fun of Tony, surely.

Tony flips him the bird, but the guy just laughs.

“What is he dressing you up as?” Tony asks. Purely out of curiosity. Knowing how whipped Barnes was, Peter could dress him up as anything and he’d take it. Even something embarrassing or emasculating.

Barnes just rolls his eyes. “You know him. It’s a secret.”

The comradery with which he says it, like of course Tony knows how Peter is—something about it itches at the back of Tony’s brain, a mosquito that has landed and started to suck at his blood. But it’s no surprise that Barnes and his boyfriend are weirdos who like to spend more time having ‘dates’ in their dorm room with Tony rather than at a restaurant or the movies or any fucking where else.

But, like all things that Tony doesn’t want to wonder about, he pushes to the back of his brain.

-

The next day, it is a denim jacket and hideous combat boots.

“Fashion homicide,” Tony mutters.

-

The day before Halloween brings Tony a red flannel shirt.

“Goddamnit,” he says, holding it up so Barnes can see. “What is he dressing me up as, a lesbian?”

-

It isn’t until he’s assembling it all in the bathroom that he puts it together—and okay. It’s not bad. Bender was easily the coolest character in the Breakfast Club, though his fashion sense was nothing like Tony’s. The layers—white shirt under flannel under denim—are a little stifling, but out in the cold fall air, it would be perfect. He even combs his hair back.

All in all, Parker could have done far, far worse.

But when he comes out of the bathroom and finds the two of them in the dorm room, he sees that Parker has done worse.

Matching costumes.

Parker is Brian through and through. He looks like a total scrub in his khakis with Nike sneakers on, the long-sleeved sweater that clings to his thin frame. A ballpoint pen is tucked behind his ear, wrist-watch circling the delicate little wrist, and to top it off, a pair of sunglasses are looped over the collar of his sweater.

And Barnes? Forgone are his goth threads. He sits on his bed wearing blue jeans that hug his broad thighs, the whitest shoes that Tony’s ever seen, and a goddamn blue wifebeater that shows off his arms, both heavily muscled. Folded on his pillow is a letterman jacket, and Tony doesn’t even like jocks, but his cock twitches at the sight, thinking of slipping it down off of Bucky’s bare shoulders.

“No—we match,” Tony says.

Peter lights up. “Yes! You got it! The Breakfast Club is a classic.”

“I should have said no matching costumes. We look like—” like boyfriends, Tony thinks, “—like queers. I’m not going out like this.”

“Watch the slurs you throw around,” Barnes says, his mouth an unhappy, flat line.

Tony winces. “I—I didn’t mean it like that. But this is taking it to a whole new level that I’m not comfortable with. Not to mention, three gays all going out in matching costumes? Isn’t that a little suggestive?”

“Suggestive of what?” Parker asks. He’s holding fingerless gloves—the last part of Tony’s costume. It’s the cherry on top. With the cigarettes that Tony plans to be chainsmoking thanks to the stress of this whole event, he’ll be method acting his character all night.

“Come on. Suggestive, suggestive. Like we’re all—” Tony mashes his hands together.

Barnes reaches out, hand flat, arm flexing nicely. He doesn’t even look at Parker and Parker doesn’t look at him, but they slap hands in a high five.

“Am I speaking in tongues? I’m not fucking leaving like this; I’m not going to have the whole campus thinking I’m your loser third wheel.” It would be too painful, when there’s a shameful part of him that would gladly be the third wheel to them, that’s desperate to be between them. This feels like the crudest parody.

“You wouldn’t be,” Peter says.

“Pete, maybe we shouldn’t do this right now,” Barnes interrupts.

“No, Bucky, this was supposed to—supposed to be cute!” Parker turns away from them, towards the wall by Tony’s bed. He drops the gloves there and crosses his arms. It would be petulant if it wasn’t so heartbroken, the curve of his shoulders, his head drooping down morosely. Instead, the kid just looks like he’s trying to hold himself together.

Tony sighs. It takes Herculean strength not to roll his eyes. “Kid. I’m sorry. Clearly this meant a lot to you. Fuck knows why, but—”

Peter turns around, eyes tearful and flashing with anger. He reaches up to his ear, fiddling with the lobe with trembling fingers. Grabbing Tony’s wrist, he puts a little diamond earing in his palm, just like Claire did with Bender.

“What’s this?” Tony says, shoulders hunching. “My ears aren’t pierced.”

“Yes they are,” Peter says through his teeth. “You probably got them pierced five or so years ago, but your dad was an asshole about it and made you take them out. It’s been ages and the holes are hard to see but they still won’t close.”

Tony blanches. He can still hear the way Howard demeaned him, spent the whole dinner talking his Tony’s mother about how ridiculous the boy looked, how it gave people ideas about him, because pierced ears are for women and the only men who have them are faggots. “How the fuck do you even know that?”

“Do you think I’m dumb?” This is the loudest Peter’s ever been, his usual fragile voice replaced by this one that is sure and angry and doesn’t crack.  “One: I spend every moment that I’m not looking at Bucky looking at you. I’ve got eyes; I know what a hole in an ear looks like, thanks. Two: your dad is an asshole about everything. He’s probably the reason why you don’t drink mixed drinks, why you call us queers even though you’re bi, why you lie and say you’re going to spend the whole holiday break at home but then come back and spend it here alone in the dorm. Because your dad is an asshole.

“He’s probably the reason why you’re such a fucking dunce too. A thick skull must run in the family, because Bucky and I have been hitting on you the entire semester and even though you go into the bathroom to jerk off every time you come back to the dorm and catch us making out, you won’t make a move or, or let us make the move, and—”

“What the fuck are you talking about?” Tony says, his own voice rising to a shout. “You’ve been doing all this bullshit on purpose? Blowing Barnes when you know I’m awake? Skipping around here in your underwear because, what, you know it turns me on? Because you want to out me? Am I a fucking joke to you?”

“No,” Peter shouts, slapping a hand flat on Tony’s chest. “We like you, fuckface!”

The force of Peter’s tiny hand barely makes Tony sway, but the words—those might as well knock him to his knees. He feels like the scarf around his neck is on too tight, like there’s not enough air in the room. He licks his lips, his eyes moving between Peter’s red-rimmed eyes and nose (he’s an ugly crier) and Bucky who is still sitting on the twin bed watching them, his face white and afraid.

“You like me?” Tony asks. “What does that even mean? You two are together.”

“It means,” Peter says, taking Tony’s fist, coaxing open the anxious fingers to wear the diamond stud earring still rests, cutting into his palm. Peter presses his thumb against it, tenderly. “That we like you. We want you. To get to know you. You—and not your hang-ups.”

Tony shakes his head, taking his hand from Peter’s burning grip. “I—I can’t do that. My dad—”

“—is an asshole,” Bucky mutters.

Tony snorts softly. “Yeah. Yeah, you’re not wrong.”

“We don’t have to go home with you at Thanksgiving or Christmas or ever, if you don’t want,” Peter says. “We just want a chance. We want you to do something for yourself. Not your dad. Does that make sense?”

The silence lingers around the room. Somewhere in the distance, Halloween music is playing, ghoulish noises and moans and witch-like cackling. Mouth dry, Tony takes the backing off of the stud earing and reaches up, feeling for the holes in the lobes of his ears. It’s been years since he wore them, and his hands are trembling so badly that he can’t even find them—

“I’ll help you,” Peter says tenderly, taking the earring. He has it in in a moment and leans back, taking Tony in from head to toe.

“Well?” Tony asks. He clears his throat—there’s something stuck in it, some lump that he has to swallow away. He holds out his arms. “How do I look?”

“Gay,” Bucky says from the corner, smiling.

“That’s it!” Tony shouts. “I’m not going! Thanks for nothing! I’m out!”

“Tony,” Peter groans. “He was just joking, he’s—”

But Tony is already stalking to the dorm room door and pulling it open. He stops to glance over his shoulder at Bucky and Peter who are watching him with wide eyes. “Well?” he says. “I’m all for being fashionably late, but if we don’t get going, there’s not going to be anything left of the keg—”

The two scramble for their jackets and follow him out the door.

#winterironspider #tw: homophobia #tw: f slur #tw: q slur #college!winterironspider #Halloween prompt #cagewrites #longfic

[digitalworldbound]

miyako and hikari (platonic) for 133?

Number 133: “Slushies aren’t just for kids. Fuck society!”

Characters: Miyako & Hikari. Finally, one of my 02 babies! This is set while the girls are maybe around 15 and 16.

I wrote this in first person as Hikari, just to give it a more casual, carefree feel! I hope you enjoy these teenager-y, summer vibes. The ending kind of sucks, but please ignore it. (Minor swearing) 

Send me a prompt! 

As a certified teenager, it’s safe to assume that I love summer. Why wouldn’t I? It’s the time of the year when you can pretty much do whatever you like. Summer is the grand time where the months-long prep and countdown for family vacations actually come in fruition.

But there’s danger that lurks during summer. It’s the trap of monotony where sleeping late, waking up at noon, watching endless TV, and playing video games for hours become a routine. Well, not if you are friends with Miyako.

Despite chatting with friends into the wee hours of the morning, the girl is an early riser. She’s the “get up and go” type, only grabbing a banana for breakfast as she sprints out the front door. Afterall, an object in motion in stays in motion.

It was the first Saturday of summer vacation when she barged into my room, a flurry of purple hair and lipgloss. “Hika!” she screeched. Miyako was one of the only people that called me by a nickname, and never failed to abuse this privilege. “What are you still doing in bed? If you want to go scope out hot guys on the beach with me, you have to get up. We’re burning daylight!”

I didn’t even have to glance at the clock to know that it was inhumanly early. The coffee machine in the kitchen was silent, and the sound of my brother snoring permeated the apartment. Somehow, I managed to pull myself away from the warmth of a slept-in comforter, yawning all the while. Before my feet hit the floor, Miyako was rummaging through my wardrobe, clicking her tongue in disapproval at my large collection of borrowed basketball t-shirts. “Hmm, where do all these come from, I wonder?” she asked pointedly. She laughed airily, flashing me a wink.

“Ha, ha, Miya, very funny. You know me and him are just friends,” I offered, attempting to stretch the sleep out of my joints. She shook her head in disapproval, purple ponytail swinging behind her.

A note about Miyako: she fancies herself a matchmaker, and believed I was her perfect target.

For years, she has tried everything to pair me up with my best friend. A few summers ago, she locked us both in the hall closet, smushing us between the extra linens and a scratchy, wool blanket. Takeru and I are pretty close, so we weren’t particularly bothered by our close proximity. We might have been able to enjoy our time together had Miyako not forgotten about us. It wasn’t until my brother came home from soccer practice that someone heard our desperate pleas for freedom. Ever since then, she has stayed out of it.

With a hum of approval, she tossed a sundress in my direction.  I barely had time to catch the flimsy, yellow fabric before she barked out another order. “Go to the bathroom and put that on, we need to hurry.”

Another note about Miyako: Never argue with her when she gets in one of her Moods.

My socked feet padded their way silently to the bathroom, pausing only to check the time displayed in the hall: 7:45 in the morning. Changing quickly, I slipped the sundress over last season’s bathing suit, adjusting the straps as the material settled around my hips. Miyako, being a full year older than me, had taken puberty gracefully, filling out gradually and evenly. My body, it seemed, had other plans. The hips seemed to be its first priority, leaving the top of my dress little to fill itself out.

I made my way back towards my room, careful to avoid any creaky floorboards. Miyako sat atop my bed, flicking through a stray magazine. She hadn’t noticed my arrival, and I took my few extra moments of silence to study her.

This past semester, she had shot up several inches, giving her legs the slender look of a model. Her cut-off shorts only emphasized this fact. Her Hawaiian-esque button down should have been tacky, but she left the buttons undone, showing off her camisole underneath. A bathing suit top poked out from underneath it, accentuated her new curves. Compared to her, I felt like a little girl playing dress up.

While I struggled to coax the tangles out of my horrendous bedhead, Miyako gave me the rundown of the day. “Okay, so I was thinking we hit up Starbucks first. They have some new fruity lemonade that I’ve been dying to try, and I’m also kind of hungry.” As if to punctuate her statement, my own stomach growled, and I grinned sheepishly up at her. “Make that two of us,” I laughed.

She rambled on about sunbathing and beach volleyball, the metallic jingle of her bracelets accentuating every point. Miyako talked with her hands, making gestures large and small as if it would help the listener understand her better. Spoiler alert: it never did, but it was fun to watch all the same.

My hair finally tamed, I applied some light concealer, desperate to rid myself of the dark circles clinging underneath my eyes. “You know,” her jingling stops, “You really don’t need any makeup, Hika.”

I only snort in response; taking compliments has never been my forte. Grabbing my purse and phone, I slipped on a pair of sandals. “Okay, I’m ready.”

“Let’s rock and roll!”

-

As one could expect on the first weekend of summer vacation, Odaiba beach was cluttered with people. For mile it seemed the white sand was obscured by sunburnt bodies and an array of towels, but that was understandable.

The passing heat wave had been brutal. One could not go outside without sunscreen, lest risk getting sun poisoning. Within minutes, Miyako sucked her lemonade dry, settling on chewing the left-over ice. “Oh!” she squealed, bits of ice flinging about. “An empty spot, just over there!”

Years of running away from evil Digimon  looked like practice as we narrowly dodged the ample bodies of beach-goers. Arms linked together; our feet kicked up sand behind us as we ran. Just as we were about to secure our small area, a blue beach towel obscured the white sand.

I was panting too hard to notice Miyako’s eyes light up or the stranger’s shadow obscure the sun’s rays.

“Hey, guys! What are you two doing here?” a familiar voice asked, humor lifting at the end of his question. My breathing stopped mid-pant, silently cursing whatever deity that would listen. Once my heartbeat was under control, I managed to stand up straight. Raising a singular eyebrow, I challenged our guest. “Well, Takeru, the last time I checked, this beach is open to the public.”

His blonde hair reflected the sunshine, a soft, golden glow haloing around him. As if I needed any more reason to fall in love with him. He laughed in good nature, smiling a boyish, toothy grin.

“You took our spot.” Miyako pointed out, arms crossed over her chest. Wrinkles formed between her brows, her effort to look more menacing. A pair of heart-shaped sunglasses shielded her hazel eyes, and I almost giggled at the thought of her trying to look domineering while wearing something so innocent.

“Who says we all can’t share?” he countered; blues eyes illuminated by mischief. Never one to back down from a challenge, Miyako stood her ground, “I don’t think so.”

Anxiety clenched at my stomach. As of late, being in a close proximity to Takeru made me nervous, especially when he was shirtless with little rivets of water trailing their way down his abs. He was no longer the cute little eight-year-old that sat with me by the campfire. Years of basketball practice had solidified his athletic figure, and two summers ago, his growth spurt had him towering over his own brother. Seeing him in nothing but a pair of swimming trunks did not help my flushed state.

“It’ll be fine, Miyako. We can just squish our towel beside his.”  Rolling her eyes, she begrudgingly pulled out her Hello Kitty! themed towel, spreading it haphazardly on the ground. “Let’s just get in the water. That’s where all of the cute guys are, anyway.”

Takeru, for his part, pretended not to notice the hostility in her voice. He was as used to her moodiness as I was. Standing there awkwardly, he only made the move to leave as we began to strip down to our bikinis. “I should probably go find Ken and Daisuke. I’ll catch you both later,” he stammered, eyes intently focused on the granules of sand that had clung themselves to his hands.

Looking at each other, Miyako and I burst into a fit of giggles. She had a twinkle in her eyes as she wiggled her eyebrows in my direction. “No, absolutely not.” I deadpan, knowing exactly where this was about to go.

Her glossed bottom lip poked out, her attempt at a puppy-dog look. In my opinion, she looked more like a Kardashian, and when I told her exactly this, the lip was sucked right back in.

Though it was still pretty early, the sun was high in the sky. My cheeks were warm, and my shoulders had turned a light shade of pink. “We need to put some sunscreen on before we fry.”

“Nah, I’m good. I need to work on my tan anyway.” Miyako’s high-waisted bikini bottoms and halter bathing suit top suited her figure, the cornflower blue color complimenting the slight tan she had already developed. She raised an eyebrow at my pink one-piece, but I just shrugged. Shopping for a skimpy bathing suits had never been one of my priorities.

Neither of us felt comfortable oogling guys when our friends were here and apt to make fun of us, so the though of swimming was abandoned. I smeared sunblock on any bit exposed skin, using the technique a toddler would when icing a cake: all hands on deck.  

The pair of us sprawled out, Miyako’s body covering most of the cartoon cat. My pale legs claimed Takeru’s towel as my own. His blonde hair had disappeared in the throngs of beachgoers, and considering that he wasn’t the sunbathing type, I figured he wouldn’t complain.  

Rays of sunshine encapsulated me, and the muscles in my shoulders slowly unwound. Eyes closed, I only half-listened to surrounding conversation. A child begged his mother for ice cream while some teenaged girl made her move. A nearby volleyball game was in full swing, both teams shouting at one another. The summer air was stagnant, smelling of sunscreen, sweat, and salt.

We laid around, soaking in the sunshine and the freedom that came with summer vacation. Those last few weeks of school had been stressful. Between taking pictures for the school paper and studying for any upcoming exams, I had been ready to lose my mind. Takeru had also been acting strange, flip-flopping between avoiding me at all costs or never letting me out of his sight. It had all be so intense that I was grateful for Miyako’s distraction, even if it meant waking up at the ass-crack of dawn.

“Psst.” I whispered. I rolled onto my side, doing my best to ignore the way iced coffee moved around in my belly. In our haste to get to the overcrowded seaside, we had forgone any breakfast, hoping that caffeine would be enough to fuel us throughout the day. The rumble in my stomach proved otherwise.

Miyako groaned, peeking at me through her ridiculously long lashes. Note to self: interrogate her about the brand of mascara she uses.

“Psst, Miyako.” She ignored me once again, opting to rotate like a rotisserie chicken.

“Ugh, fine, I’ll go find food on my own.” I stood up, dusting invisible debris off of my legs. Sure enough, I had my friend’s full attention. Anything that involved eating always got her going. In a flurry of purple hair and sand, she was up on her feet, eyes searching for the nearest snack source. A laugh bubbled out of my throat. Miyako tended to do all things with a theatrical flair, making even the most mundane tasks enjoyable.

Once, in middle school, we were both sentenced to lunch duty. Our job was simple: serve food to our peers. Dishing out food was easy; just ladle the mystery meat on a plate and voila! You were finished. It would have been simple enough, had we not had to wear hairnets and white smocks that made us look more like a middle-aged lunch lady than we ever wanted to. Miyako was never the type to wallow in self-pity. She ignored the looks of sympathy other girls gave us and found pleasure in the odd slurp sound the food made when hitting the trays. Soon, it became a competition of who could create the best squelch, testing out different flinging techniques until we were satisfied. By then end of lunch period, our smocks were littered with oil stain, and our cheeks were sore from smiling.

Miyako channeled her inner lunch lady food-flinging abilities as she practically pushed innocent bystanders out of her way. God help those who stood between Miyako and, well, whatever it was that she wanted. Her ponytail navigated through the crowd, giving me no choice but to follow. Her legs lead us to a slushie cart, manned by a woman who was all smiles and sticky syrup. It might not have been solid food, but I wouldn’t deny myself a sugar high.

A small line had already formed, several children tugging on their parents’ sleeves. My bathing suit clung to my skin uncomfortably. I tried to shift in place, but the air was thick with heat. Aside from seeing my childhood crush half-naked, waking up early hadn’t been the best idea. The sun was high in the sky, my morning shadow disappearing.

The line moved quickly, and before long, the pair of us stood at the front, pondering our choices. Finger resting on her lip in faux-concentration, Miyako made a show of deciding on a flavor “Could I have a mix of wild cherry and blue raspberry, please?”  

“Why pretend to chose when you get the same thing every time?” As a woman of few pleasures, I found a great joy in calling Miyako out. Her flush of embarrassment was a rare sight.  Turning towards the employee, I order the first flavor to have ‘strawberry’ in its name.

A few minutes later, we found ourselves walking along the shoreline. The waves lapped at our bare feet and we slurped on our slushies, rambling on about anything that came to mind.

“You know,” I said, disrupting the natural lull of conversation, “The last time I drank a slushie like this was before I even met you.”

By now, Miyako’s slushie had melted into a dark purple, the last remnants of red dye staining her lips. “But slushies are, like, a summer staple. What’s up with that?”

I twirled my straw around, savoring the last bits of pink ice that had collected on the bottom of my cup. “Well, my brother would probably make fun of me. He already gives me a hard-enough time about my ice cream addiction; he says sweet things are for children.” Switching voices, I lowered my pitch and curled my arms, much like an ape would at the zoo. In a horrible attempt at mocking my brother, I continued, “ ‘Hikari, sweets bad, protein good. Eat more meat.’”

I took a few more steps before I realized she was no longer beside me. Turning around, I barely had time to register the shocked look on her features before she cried out: “Slushies are not just for kids! Fuck him!” Apparently, my friend took summer treats very seriously. 

If her passionate outburst hadn’t of attracted attention, her colorful language sure did. Quickly, I grabbed her arm, hastily pulling her towards our belongings. Embarrassment colored my cheeks as I attempted to dodge the gazes of judgmental bystanders. “Miyako, you can’t just say things like that,” I whispered to her, clenched teeth giving my tone a pinched quality.

“C’mon,” I thrusted her towel into her arms, “let’s get out of here before we get kicked out.”

Pulling on her shorts, she cast me a sideways glance. “I’m sorry, Hika, I didn’t mean to upset you.”

Sighing, I held both of her hands between mine. “You said what you did because you care about me, and I can’t fault you for that.” I gathered up the rest of my own belongings before continuing. “Besides, you forgot to feed me today. I’m thinking we get some McDonald’s. Your treat?”

She laughed, hands now busying themselves with her shirt. “Isn’t McDonald’s for kids?”

Tossing my purse over my shoulder, I turned around and winked. “Fuck society.”

#miyako inoue #hikari yagami #digimon adventure 02

[rose-sunlight]

J&C’s RTA (or, for the boring people: Jake and Charles’ Road Trip Adventure)

Pairings: Implied Jake Peralta/Charles Boyle, Mentioned Jake Peralta/Amy Santiago, Jake Peralta/Original Male Character (OC)

Warnings: One mention of antisemitism, but it isn't graphic.

Summary: When Jake returns from being undercover, Charles realises how depressed he is over Amy's rejection. He decided the perfect remedy is a BFF Road trip. Little does he know, this Road Trip will bring some interesting revelations into the light.

A/n: This is for the @b99fandomevents​ Summer 2020 Fic Exchange written for @impossiblyizzy​! Hope you enjoy!

As soon as Jake returned to the precinct after being undercover, Charles began to plan this trip. He knew about Jake confessing his feelings to Amy (squeal), and how he was horribly rejected. When he returned, unchanged from his stint undercover, Charles vowed to take Jake on a road trip to end all road trips.

He even decided that Jake could dub their trip, hoping that would cheer him up. It did, and so they left on their summer J&C’s RTA—unknowing that what would happen could possibly change the course of their friendship forever.

Of course, Charles knew that they had to have an appropriate car to travel the way in, that’s why he chose a 1960’s panel van, like the one from Scooby-Doo. He thought Jake would look at it and smile; he did, but his smile disappeared almost instantly. Even when he climbed inside and looked around at all the snacks and chips Charles had bought (he had decided on the ones Jake likes, not the ones he liked that had a crunchy mealworm flavour. But Jake looked at them and smiled again, leaning against the window as Charles began to drive to their first location.

The music was blaring: Jake had insisted that Carly Rae-Jepsen and Taylor Swift be playing constantly at full volume. Charles had one hand outside the car, dragging it through the air, feeling the wind between his fingers as they flew past grand houses in the suburbs of New York at break-neck speed. Jake had his eyes closed against the rays of the sunlight coming through the windshield, a small smile tugging on his lips.

He was picturing Amy here with him, experiencing the beginnings of this elysian sunset.

“You know what you need?” Charles said, not taking his eyes off the road.

Jake shrugged, “A dartboard with Teddy’s dumb stupid face on it?”

“No,” Charles sighed, “You need to find someone else. Someone who will make you forget about Amy!”

Jake shook his head “I don’t know, Charles, I just can’t do that. Everyone would remind me of Amy.” He knew this was a lie, he could find someone who was the opposite of Amy and love them for the night, but it wouldn’t be the same, because all he would be able to think of would be how it wasn’t Amy holding him, kissing his neck…

“Well, I’m sure someone where we’re going will have a pair of lips for you.”

“In a weird way, thanks.”

They arrived at their first hotel stop the next day, after taking turns driving. It wasn’t much, but it was grand in its own way, with charming old windows and exposed brick. It was almost like a cottage, but with people and balconies watching you arrive. Charles slung his bag over his bag, slamming his car door shut as Jake did the same.

The receptionist was an older woman, scowling with tiny glasses on the bridge of her nose as Charles smiled and gave their room numbers. He’d decided, for privacy (a new concept for Charles, but one he was willing to learn for the sake of his heartbroken friend), that they would have separate rooms. He looked back from the scornful woman to Jake, who was frantically typing on his phone.

“Who’s that?” Charles asked as Jake shot up, eyes wide, like he’d been caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

“Oh, uh, no one, just…you know, Rosa…”

Charles raised an eyebrow “Oh, yeah, right, we both know Rosa doesn’t text you for that long,” His eyes comically widened in realisation, like the parent who had caught him with said hand in the cookie jar, “you’re texting Amy, aren’t you?”

“What? Charles, no, why would I?”

Before Charles could respond, the scowling woman passed over the two keys, suddenly breaking out into a fond smile that shook Charles slightly. He grabbed them and thanked her “You boys have fun; are you waiting on another couple?” She asked, holding back the other key.

Charles blushed, suddenly a bumbling mess “Uh, no, we-we’re not…uh…we’re not a couple…” He managed to blurt out, watching as the woman pushed her glasses up and smiled awkwardly.

“Oh, I’m sorry, here,” she replied, handing over the second key before gesturing to the stairs “your floor is the third, first two doors on the right, you can’t miss them.”

“Ok, great, thanks” Jake said, grabbing his bags and dragging Charles away from the woman, who he was still gaping at for assuming the two of them were a couple. They were halfway up the stairs when Jake turned back to Charles, who was still frowning as he walked.

“You know,” Jake started “I never imagined you to act so weird just because someone assumed you were with a dude”.

Charles shook his head again, furrowing his eyebrows as they finally got to their respective rooms “Oh, no, it wasn’t that I just realised that she looked like Julia Child! I have all her cookbooks, she looked just like her!”

“Oh, sorry.”

“It’s fine.”

There was a pause as they both stood in their hallways, staring at each other. The night was still hot and the stars that had just peaked out from the New York smog were shining through, creating an almost blue effect on Jake and Charles face. Jake had to stop; in this light, he noted how handsome his best friend truly was, but only in the way that his looks complimented his personality nicely.

Jake swallowed on air, Adam’s apple bobbing “I’m…going to go in. I’ll see you in the morning.”

“Yeah,” Charles nodded, smiling a toothless grin “See you in the morning.”

They went into their separate rooms. Charles couldn’t sleep: he didn’t really understand why Jake got so offended about his supposed shock around being called a couple. He figured it was just a normal Jake move, standing up for whatever he felt was right. Maybe he felt a compassion to help those marginalised groups. After all, Jake had revealed to them the horrific things said about him in his youth when he wore the star of David around his neck.

Charles decided to sleep it off. Jake wasn’t doing much sleeping, and wasn’t planning on doing so until his casual fling was out of his room. He wanted them to stay, for that bit of closeness he really needed from anyone, but he decided that it was easier this way, for them to sneak out in the early hours of the morning.

Morning came, and the weather had ramped up again. It was a heavy heat that made it almost impossible to breathe, and Boyle was sure he would’ve died if it wasn’t for his sleep apnoea mask keeping him breathing. He almost slept in, like he was planning to, but housekeeping knocked (even though he had put ‘do-not-disturb’ on his door handle), and he found himself scurrying out of the room in shorts and a t-shirt.

Unfortunately—or, fortunately, for Jake, Boyle had stepped out of his room the exact time his fling of the night left, planting a big kiss on his lips, while Jake stood in the doorway of his room, dressed only in a pair of white boxers.

“Thanks for a great night.” The man, Jason, he had introduced himself as, said, walking straight past Boyle’s gobsmacked face. Although, it did make a lot of sense for Jake to like guys, when he thought about it. Jake stared back at Charles with a pale face, one arm outstretched.

“How much of that did you see?” He asked, not as concerned as Charles thought he would be, judging on the nice shade of translucent Jake had seemingly turned “I need to know so I can gauge how big my lie has to be”

Charles cut him off “Jake, you could’ve just told me.”

Jake’s shoulders slumped “I know. But…I don’t know, I’ve been keeping this a secret for so long, I was worried you’d be mad. No one knows, if that helps, not even Gina.”

“Knows what?”

Jake flushed red “You know what.”

Charles took a step forward, trying his best to be comforting to his embarrassed and half-naked friend. “I know, but…but it might help you if you say it out loud.”

He had a glint in his eye, and Charles could detect it as unwavering emotion and unshed tears from years of pent-up frustration. He wonders how many times Jake’s tried to tell the squad, how many times he’s tried to correct the pronouns of whoever he’d been on a date with the day before his shift. “N—” he let out a deep blowing breath, “No one else knows…that I’m Bisexual.”

Charles smiled proudly, reaching out to pull Jake into a hug. He didn’t cry, not even as Charles stroked his back comfortingly. He was just relieved that someone else knew. If it had to be anyone, he was glad it was Charles.

“If it helps…no one would judge you. Especially not me.” Charles gave a stern look, and Jake almost begged him silently to continue. “I’m Pansexual! I thought you knew, Jakey, I talk about my fat crush on Dave from HR all the time!”

If Jake was in a cartoon, his eyes would be like saucers right about now. “I thought you meant in…like, a bro way!”

“There is no way me talking about all the explicit things I’d let him do could possibly be in a bro way.” Charles deadpanned as Jake let out a breathy laugh.

“Cool.” Jake said, smiling at his friend as if their eyes had just met for the first time in their friendship. He sits down on the motel fire escape, and Charles joins him, knees brushing against each other “So how does being Pan work?”

Charles sighed “A lot of people say a lot of different things. For me…I’m attracted to the soul of someone before their body. I don’t care about gender, as long as they’re kind and intellectually sexy.” He was staring straight at Jake now (no pun intended).

“We’re super dumb.” Jake groaned.

“Yep.”

“Are our gay-dars that broken that we’ve been friends for what? Five years? And neither of us knew the other was LGBTQIA?”

Charles let out a large giggle, smiling at Jake, nudging him slightly “One hell of a road-trip, right?”

“Yeah,” Jake smiled back, “And it’s only just started.”

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#brooklyn nine nine #B99 #b99 fanfic #b99fandomevents #b99 summer 2020 fic exchange #jake x amy #jake peralta #jake/charles

[crystaljins]

Keep your distance

Characters: Yoongi x Reader 

Word count: 2.1 K

Synopsis:  8. College!au + 1. Friends-to-lovers + 8. “ wait, wait. say that again. please. ” [drabble game]

Notes: I took a bit of liberty with this one because I have already done both a college au and quote number 19. If you squint you might catch a glimpse of the‘mum’friend!jin though, so hopefully that makes up for whatever the heck this mess is ;)

“Lean back.” You instruct. Yoongi follows obediently, although he grumbles as he does so. That’s just how he is though- you’re sure he could win the lottery and he’s mutter under his breath complaining about having to go and collect the ticket. You’re used to this kind of behaviour from your closest friend- you’d go so far as to say it is relieving to have him well enough to complain. When you’d first gotten the call about his accident your heart had plummeted through your feet and you had prepared yourself for the worst scenario: that you’d never see Yoongi again. But here he is, well enough to grumble that you are pampering him.

“Face masks are step one to a luxurious night.” You explain as you lean in close to tuck his fringe behind a large, velvety headband with a cute bow on the side.

“Why can’t I put it on myself though?” He asks, even as he shuts his eyes in anticipation as you unfold the mask. You glance down at the arm in his cast.

“Can you put it on yourself?” You ask skeptically, rapping on the plaster with your knuckle for emphasis. You do it to make a point- he can’t even wash his own hair. You had had to do it for him earlier, much to his chagrin. He grimaces.

“I could try.” He mutters. He blinks open one eye. “Do you have to lean in so close?”

You frown.

“Why? Does my breath stink?” You ask. And then just to be obnoxious, you lean in extra close and exhale in his face. He groans.

“Get away from me, stinky breath!” He cries playfully, opening both eyes and attempting to scramble away. He’s not very successful with an arm and a leg both in a cast. He’d broken his clavicle, crushed his left femur, and had a nice displaced fracture of both radius and ulna that required surgery to correct. That’s not even starting on the soft tissue injury. He’s just lucky he’s alive.

“Stay still!” You cry, when he winces with pain. It takes all your strength not to tear up then and there because you know Yoongi hates when you cry. You distract yourself by gently smoothing out the wrinkles in his face mask. “You know, it’s ok to have people look after you, Yoongi.” You say softly. You shift away and settle against the couch, pushing your own hair out of your face with a matching head band and tearing open a new face mask packet. You’re too focussed to notice the way he stares at you for a prolonged moment.

“Let’s just watch the movie.” He sighs tiredly. Like he’s sick of talking to you.

You feel like there is a hot coal sitting at the base of your throat. You don’t know how it ended up like this. Yoongi is your closest friend. Normally he grumbles and complains but he plays along with all your stupid requests. He pretends to hate affection but he’ll still let you rest your head on his chest and wrap your arms around him when you’ve had a long day. He hates places with lots of loud places but he’ll still drive you to parties and social gatherings. He hates sweet things but he’ll still share an ice cream with you after you get dinner together. Without him you’re not sure you would have made it this far into your course.

Yet lately he’s been different. Even before the accident, he had pulled away when you’d gone in for a hug, skimped on your movie nights, only texted you back after days had passed. That would have been enough to break you heart if he had simply been your best friend, but you also happen to be madly in love with him. And right when you had thought that perhaps you and your best friend were too distant to even be considered friends anymore, you had gotten the call that he had been in an accident.

Maybe he just needs his space. Yoongi is an introvert in every sense of the word and having you constantly hovering him over must be frustrating. Even more frustrating is probably the fact that he needs you to hover over him thanks to his injuries. He doesn’t have any family apart from an estranged uncle to look after him and he’d had to defer his degree and quit his job after the accident. That would be hard on anyone and then to have the friend he’d clearly been trying to phase out be the one to care for him must be hard.

So you swallow down your hurt and get slowly to your feet.

“Ok,” you say with false brightness. “What do you want to watch? Your pick.” You get down on all fours in front of your laptop, where it’s resting by the TV, hooked up by a cable. You’re about to open Netflix and begin flicking through the selection when Yoongi makes a strange groaning noise. You fly to your feet.

“What’s wrong?” You cry, scrambling over to him. “Are you hurt? Do you need your pain meds?” You demand learning in close to examine his cast. “What do you need?” You ask when he still doesn’t answer.

“What I need,” He explodes suddenly. “Is for you to stop touching me so much! And to put on a proper pair of pyjama pants!”

Silence follows his outburst. You stare uncomprehendingly at your pyjama shorts. They’re cute, if a little old and short. They have bears on them.

A tear lands in your lap, soaking into the face of one of the cartoon bears printed on your shorts.

“Right.” You say, but your traitorous voice cracks. It’s difficult to read Yoongi’s expression beneath the face mask, and you’re avoiding his gaze anyway so you miss the way frustration and regret and panic mix together in his eyes. “I... I thought they were cute.” You say, but your voice is shaky. “They have-“ your voice catches and you inhale deeply. “They have bears on them.”

You’re such an idiot. The way you had been worrying and fretting like a first time mother would be enough to drive anyone crazy, let alone a grumpy hermit like Yoongi. And that’s before even considering the way he had tried to push you away before the accident. You scramble to your feet, attempting to rapidly gather your things so you don’t have to face the burning sting of humiliation and heartbreak mixed together. You’d been so caught up in your own feelings for him that you hadn’t considered what he might be feeling.

“I can call Jin to come over.” You say. You yank off your facemask and crumple it in your fist, exposing the way tears pour down your face. “He’s almost been begging me to let him take care of you instead.”

Yoongi watches you with anguish. He’s so bad at expressing himself. Why can’t he be open with his emotions, like Hoseok or Jin? Instead he’s an emotionally constipated grandpa who apparently can’t even thank the kindest, sweetest, most selfless girl for caring for him so thoroughly. He totally didn’t mean to lash out at you- it’s just that you’re so overwhelming. When you lean in close he feels like there’s an angry mob in his brain shouting for him to close the distance between you. When you touch him he feels like you’ve just pressed an open flame against him. And when you lean forward in those stupid shorts he wants to scream.

This was why he had pushed you away- all he can do is make you miserable. And he had almost succeeded, and almost convinced himself that he would do just fine without you. And then the stupid car crash had happened and his last thought before he lost consciousness had been of you. Of how devastated you were going to be when he died. Of how stupid he had been to push you away instead of holding you close and never letting go like he longed to do. And he’s been given a miraculous second chance and this is how he uses it? No. He can’t use his second chance like this. He has to... he has to tell you how he feels.

“Wait.” He says, right as you’re attempting to squeeze passed him. His uninjured hand shoots out to wrap around you wrist on instinct. “I-“ He says slowly, willing himself to say something, anything.

“It’s ok, Yoongi,” you say softly. “I understand.”

Oh but you don’t. Not even a little bit. If you did you’d probably be scared of the intensity of his feelings.

“You don’t.” He finally says, and his voice cracks.

“Yoongi?” And your tears stop in your confusion because if you didn’t know any better, you’d say he was crying. It’s impossible to tell with the face mask on- although it’s starting to half peel off with the way his expression is twisted like he’s in a little pain. “Are you ok? What don’t I understand?”

“I love you!” He cries, with the same desperation and frustration as his earlier shout. He releases your wrist to grab his facemask and fling it carelessly to the side. And with his expression exposed, you can suddenly see all the frantic emotions written across his face. You almost don’t register what he’s said and then when you do you find yourself blinking uncomprehendingly.

“Wait, wait.” You say slowly. Did you hear right? “Say that again. Please.”

“I love you.” He says, this time less frustrated, but probably more desperate.

For the second time that night, absolute silence reigns. You could probably hear a pin drop. Slowly, you lower yourself so that you are sitting beside Yoongi.

“You... you love me?” You ask, just for clarification one last time.

“Yes!” He grumbles, and the tone is more familiar and closer to what you are used to from him.

“But then...” you say, still struggling to process the whole situation.

“But then why did I push you away?” He asks, and he sounds annoyed. He’s just annoyed at himself though. “Why did I yell at you even though you’ve been nothing but kind and generous and sweet?”

You nod, because your mouth is stubbornly refusing to form coherent sentences.

“Because I’m an idiot.” He sighs. “The biggest idiot to ever walk the planet and because you make me nervous.”

“I make you nervous?” You respond incredulously. He nods, and he just seems so defeated and resigned.

“I just can’t seem to say what I mean around you.” He explains. “You’re my best friend and if I even dropped a hint of how I was feeling I was so scared you’d go running for the hills and I’d lose the best thing that ever happened to me.”

Your cheeks heat.

“I... wouldn’t have run away.” You say shyly. You risk a glance at him out of the corner of your eye. “I wouldn’t never run away from you, not unless you wanted me to.”

Yoongi clears his throat awkwardly and the two of you sit in tense silence for an uncomfortably long moment.

“You look nice in the bear shorts. Especially your butt.” He informs you. The statement has you choking on your own spit.

“Yoongi, what?” You cry.

“And your legs are nice.” He observes. “They look like they’d be really smooth and I want to touch them. Preferably while we are making out.”

He’s on a roll now.

“And when you were washing my hair earlier I wanted us to just shower together. It’s quicker and saves water. Probably. Plus you’d be naked so it’s a win-win.” He adds thoughtfully.

“What are you saying Yoongi?” You cry and you’re sure not even the sun burns as hot as your face currently is. He carefully shifts, as much as he can with all the broken bones he has, so that he’s leaning his cheek against the couch and staring straight at your profile.

“I’m testing you.” He explains. “Can you really handle everything I’m feeling?” He wonders aloud. “Are you sure you don’t want to run away?”

Slowly, you turn your head so that you are meeting his gaze head on. Your eyes are puffy from your earlier tears and your face is shiny from the face mask and you’re wearing gaudy bear pyjamas but you’re beautiful. You’re so beautiful it hurts.

“I don’t.” You whisper.

“Well, you could have said something earlier.” He grumbles. And while a part of you wants to punch him, you’re mostly just relieved.

He wouldn’t be the man you loved if he wasn’t grumbling, after all.

#yoongi x reader #suga x reader #min yoongi x reader #yoongi fluff #yoongi angst #drabble game #writing

[mountphoenixrp]

We have a new citizen in Mount Phoenix:

                                Joshua Akana, who is known by no other name;                                                    a 23 year old son of Susano-o.                         He is a co-owner and surf instructor of Aukai Surf&Skate Shop.

FC NAME/GROUP:  Cho Seung-yuon (WOODZ)/ X1 CHARACTER NAME: Joshua Akana AGE/DATE OF BIRTH: August 5th, 1996 PLACE OF BIRTH: Kahului, Maui, Hawai’i OCCUPATION: ‘Aukai Surf&Skate Shop (Founder-Surf Instructor) HEIGHT: 180cm/ 6’0 DEFINING FEATURES: 9 tattoos; the years of his adoptive parents birth on each bicep, happy/sad face outer right wrist, sketch circle with the words ‘things can’t always be the same’ going through it (inner forearm left arm), a burning candle on the center of shoulder blades, ‘Paixou’ above burning candle (the Portuguese word for Passion), a portrait of a beach (outer left bicep), cartoon portrait of family (left ribcage), large gun on right stomach extending to right hip. Several ear piercings.

PERSONALITY: Seemingly born with a smile on his face Joshua is a ball of optimism despite the curveballs life flings his way. Diagnosed at age five with the neurological developmental disorder known as autism Joshua has a unique way of looking at and adapting to the people, places, and circumstances around him that is best described as ‘cheerfully determined’. His resilient attitude makes him fun to approach and easy to form fast friendships with.

         Because he’s worked hard to mask problems he does have. And even harder to overcome them.

HISTORY: “So.,” Joshua says as he sits around the beach bonfire that the rest of the other in this recovery retreat are gathered around. They’re learning each other’s stories it’s his turn to spill out what they hope is everything that led to him needing this therapy retreat. “I suppose I’m supposed to sit here and tell you a dark and sad backstory where I have crappy parents who were gone or overly there.” There a small almost morbid ripple of laughter from those around him- they get it. The stories of the circle aren’t glamorous by any means but the thing they’ve grown to learn as they work on their issues is that it’s okay to laugh now and then.

   “My parents weren’t da kine like that though,” he inhales before he keeps going. “Mine were the kind that meant well and tried their hardest to do what they could for their son. Ma and Pa treated me like I was made from them and if you didn’t know I’m adopted you’d think I really was theirs. But as awesome as they were when I was younger they couldn’t really stop the mess I had to deal with at school. There I had to deal with being..well, the freak. I had a lot stacked against me; adopted, autistic, probably gay.” His eyes flick up again and there’s a sad little smile on his face as he scans the crowd there. One face catches his eye because it’s been the same one in his orbit since his first day there. Some punk named Kheleiki. He drops his eyes again and says, “Definitely gay.”

  “Anyway, I grew up with them doing all they could to guide me until college. Then I moved out, switched out living off them, and started working so they could kick back as they get older-you know da kine days not doing anything but living. But..all that pretending like nothing was wrong at school like my diagnosis didn’t impact my every day like it still does, and like I wasn’t drinking my problems away took a toll on me. So I found myself a therapist and that fool led me here to all of you.”

    The tips of his fingers stained with burnt marshmallow soot drum on his knees before he chuckles nervously. “And that’s pretty much me.”

     If he knew that he would have gained a friend in the other man that had caught his eye then he would have been in disbelief. With time and multiple rounds of retreats he got close to Kheleiki, even showed him the weirder things about who he was that set him apart. Then after a small time more, he learned that his friend was just as weird as him. Each time the retreats would end and he would have to fly back to his island of Maui, Joshua could always rely on the knowledge that at least somewhere, there was someone who didn’t think he wasn’t that weird. Two years, with two big retreats, hours of group Skype calling then one on one video calls, led to weekend getaways. Until one day at the end of a smaller core retreat meeting when Joshua should board his plane back to Maui he just…doesn’t. He stays with Kheleiki and together they learn about other people like them who are set apart by something a little extra. A little… magical.

  Days turned into months and months turned into big promises until one day they’re stepping off a plane together but they’re not landing in Maui. They’re landing on new grounds! Suitcase in one hand and a set of keys in the other Joshua smiles at his companion as they take their first steps into Mount Phoenix. “Hey… you think they have good WiFi here?”

PANTHEON: Japanese CHILD OF: Susanoo POWERS: When happy he can summon swells perfect for surfing, when overwhelmed he cause small waterspouts, when petty he can evaporate beverages (this is mostly just annoying) STRENGTHS: Humorous, optimistic, faithful WEAKNESSES: accidentally destructive, self-sacrificing

#kpop rp #krp #cho seungyoun #x1 woodz #woodz #mp; welcome

[theladylovingcrow]

Skin On Skin, Hearts Laid Bare Ch. 2

Ch. 2 Too Much Sugar Makes th Heart Lovesick

Summary (of Whole Series): They started off cuddling as a necessity in chilly tents and cramped car rides, but it eventually became something much, much more. Sam finds that there isn't a safer place in the world, no where else he'd rather be, than when he's wrapped up in his best friend's strong, caring arms. And Danny, he just can't get enough of the feeling of Sam's silky smooth skin spread out underneath his hands. A non-linear chronicle of Samuel Kiszka and Daniel Wagner's budding love.

Author (As known on Various sites): Lady Lover- Rockfic, Luluthechoosingcrow - AO3, theladylovingcrow - Deviantart and Wattpad, @sammy_bluebells - Instagram, @imacrowcawcaw - main Tumblr, @theladylovingcrow - writing/art Tumblr, @insannywestan - Sanny shipping Tumblr

Fandom: Greta Van Fleet

Pairing: Sam Kiszka/Danny Wagner

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Summary: "There were snowflakes in Sam's lashes, and, it seemed, a few were actually in his eyes. It could have been the shining lights of the skating rink, too, highlighting the absolute joy emanating from Sam's beautiful face. It was then Danny became convinced once and for all that Sam was actually made out of starshine and prayers, sugar and spice, pure love and radiance."

Warnings/Tags: ice cream, ice skating, cold weather, fluff, extreme fluff, flirting, hand holding, nose kisses, lap sitting, cuddling, slow dancing

Author's Notes: Ahh I finished chapter FIVE but couldn't get going on this one for a few days, so my brain is a little scrambled trying to back track from the smut (ch 5 is when some of the smut hits) to this.

Thank you to @satans-helper / thelazarus for all the lovely support and feedback, you've really encouraged me to write better 😚

Also, part of me wants to question why I've been able to write so goddamn much lately, but then my muse might run away and we can't have that. Ah, the mysterious appearances of creativity!

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Danny observed the scenes around him, taking in the welcoming atmosphere. Rainbow lights were strung up around the square, going from lamppost to tree to lamppost, illuminating the many people out and about enjoying the crisp night air.

Families - urban, attractive and well dressed - strolled along the sidewalks, the small children in winter coats and boots running ahead and laughing until their parents called them back. Danny smiled at their antics as a girl in a tan jacket started a snowball fight with her little brother, flinging soft white clumps at him.

On one side of the square, a skating rink was decorated with shining ornaments and cutouts of various cartoon characters. Skaters, young and old, rushed past the sides; some stumbling and laughing, some calmly holding the hands of a loved one, some racing with reckless abandon. Occasionally, a brave and talented athlete would speed up and do some sort of spin or flip Danny didn't know the name of. He would clap along with the rest of the people.

Various shops, some closed for the night and some welcoming the nightlife, lined the other sides, attracting people with their colorful displays. One such shop - Maria's Ice Cream Parlor - had a line out the door as the Midwestern crowd lined up to get a cold treat to combat the chill.

Danny felt a little bad that he honestly couldn't remember the name of the town they were in - fast touring and sleeping through info meetings left him a little out of the loop - but he knew he would look crazy if, after all this time, he finally worked up the courage to ask someone around him where he was. He would just wait for Sam to get back with their own ice cream cones and ask him, his buddy always knew where they were and where they wanted to be.

Jake clapped him on the shoulder, somewhat disrupting Danny's observance of holiday cheer. He peered up at him, wondering what the matter could possibly be.

"Joshie and I are gonna go head to that bar a few blocks from the hotel and warm up. You guys are welcome to join us, of course, though you seem to be really enjoying yourself."

"I am," Danny said, smiling. The atmosphere was like one out of a Hallmark Christmas card; colorful, happy, everything gleaming with holiday cheer and a warm welcome despite the snow. He didn't want to leave, though of course he would if Sam wanted to.

"Alright, well, you guys have fun, we'll be at the bar or back in our room if you try to find us. Are you gonna skate?"

"I'm thinking so." Danny heard Sam come up behind them, and leaned back into his presence until his upper back was against Sam's stomach. His best friend laid the hand that wasn't holding their ice creams on his chest, holding him to Sam.

"The price isn't bad, and we haven't skated in awhile. Right, hun?"

Danny heard Jake snort, but he payed him no mind; the fluttery sensation in his stomach was much more interesting. Sam only called him pet names - *lovers* pet names - when he was feeling particularly happy. It was going to be a memorable night, he already had that feeling.

"Yeah, we should. What'd you get me? Did they have pistachio?" Danny asked, twisting his head around to look up at Sam.

"They did. Here, take some napkins too, you always get so messy when you eat ice cream cones."

"Hey!" Danny protested, but he was smiling when he took them. "I do not. Besides, it's so cold out the ice cream isn't likely to melt."

Sam shook his head, little brown bun bobbling back and forth. "No, that just means our tongues will get stuck."

Danny rolled his eyes, and stuck his tongue out, touching it to the ice cream cone.

"Shee? Not shtuck!" He said, keeping his mouth attached to the sweet treat.

Sam snorted and shook his head again. He came around to Danny's front and pushed at his legs, making him adjust so he could flop down into his lap.

"You just disproved yourself, idiot," Sam said fondly.

Danny knew a few people were staring at them - cuddling in an outdoor patio chair that was definitely too small and eating ice cream. He didn't care, though, not when Sam was so warm in his lap and giving his ice cream cone cute little kitten licks with his tongue.

"Can I try some of that?"

"Okay," Sam agreed, "but only if I can taste some of yours."

Sam squirmed in his lap, looking at him so pretty and perfect it nearly hurt. Was Sam made of porcelain, or confectioners sugar? It seemed like it sometimes. Danny was convinced that he would be showered in an avalanche of candy hearts if he were to break Sam open. But, he would never let that happen, even if he had to somehow protect Sam from his own self.

Sam held out his Chocolate Raspberry cone to him, letting Danny take a soft bite. A myriad of sensation and flavor burst on his tongue: tart berries, creamy chocolate, a surprise of salty caramel, and a biting cold that melted all too quickly when it met the internal heat of his mouth. The best, though, was something he couldn't really place, but Danny was pretty sure that it was Sam himself.

"See, I told you. There's chocolate all over your face," Sam murmered, moving his food away from Danny's mouth so he could gently dab at it with a napkin.

He swiped at some of the ice cream on Danny's nose with the paper, and then Danny felt cold fingers running over his lips, collecting the chocolate there. He licked at them on reflex, getting some of the sugar before Sam pulled them away and put them in his own mouth with a coy smile.

Danny moved his free hand, which had been hanging at his side, to Sam's denim covered thigh, gripping it high up. He felt the shiver that wracked Sam's whole, lithe body when he took a lick of Danny's ice cream.

"You never dress for the weather. We all know you're cute, but you gotta put on more layers, Sammy."

Sam rolled his eyes, taking another bite from the pistachio and tangling his left hand in Danny's hair, getting it warm underneath that blanket of black fluff.

"But you keep me warm, I don't need to wear more. I know you like it."

Danny blushed, as did Sam, but neither of them broke the eye contact. People were definitely staring now, Danny just noticed, sensing the tension in their own little corner of the square. In fact, Danny wasn't really sure when exactly the twins had left, either, he had been so caught up in Sam.

"Come on, let's finish these up and go skate a bit before they close the rink," Danny finally said.

It didn't so much diffuse the tension as give it a different tone, adding a fair dosage of love and fun to the intensity. It was never aggressive, what they had. Danny knew they were soft for each other, caring in a way that they couldn't be with anyone else.

Danny could admit that he and Sam had been flirting around each other for... years. Always had, though he certainly hadn't realized it way back when they were younger. He just knew that Sammy was his best friend in the world, and that it made him feel almost giddy when Sam smiled at him.

He still felt that way, a childlike glee running through him whenever Sam turned to him - only him - to tell a joke or ask for a hug. The colder months seemed to be when they got closer; physically, to conduct body heat, and thus spending more time in close, intimate quarters. He distinctly remembered the several night they had spent huddled together in a sleeping bag on their last camping trip; and, even before then, when staying the night at the Kiszka household became an almost weekly, if not daily, occurance of Danny and Sam cuddling in Sam's twin sized bed.

Danny enjoyed nights like this, when Sam cuddled close and let Danny put his hands on him, moved in so they could share the same air and the same space. There was just something so thrilling about being able to hold Sam, see him breathe and move and let himself be wrapped up in Danny. He knew that his reverence and appreciation always showed in his eyes when they lay quietly together - but it was okay, because he could see it in Sam's, too.

Danny slurped up the ice cream at the bottom of his cone, then took a bite from the top with a quiet *crunch*. Sam finished his, too, holding it out so Danny could take the last bite.

The cold air immediately assaulted his legs when Sam got up, holding out a hand to pull Danny with him. Danny took it, linking their fingers together and putting then in his pocket so that they could warm up a bit. Sam never wore gloves; Danny knew it was so he could get someone else to warm him. It was nearly always Danny.

They made their way over to the counter of the skating rink, past all the other couples eating ice cream and the young friends running after each other. Were they a couple? Nearly, probably. All Danny knew was that he had Sam, and Sam had him, and they were not going to let go for anything.

"Two pairs of skates, please. Men's thirteen and eleven," Sam said to the lady at the counter, raising his voice to be heard over the rush of metal on ice and chattering laughter.

They each grabbed their ice skates, walking over to a bench to put them on. Danny keenly felt the loss of Sam's slim hand in his; Sam smiled at him like he felt the same.

He held his shoes by the laces, socked feet freezing on the cold ground, but he didn't notice. Sam had his lip held in between his teeth, reminding Danny of a strawberry macaroon: pink - white (perfect white) - pink. There was a furrow in Sam's brows, one of concentration as he unlaced his hiking boots to put on the skates. Danny wanted to smooth it out, run his thumb along the ridges of Sam's delicate bone structure and kiss his head.

By the time he snapped back to reality, Sam had already put his shoes in one of the little lockers and came back to Danny, waving his hands in his face to get his attention.

"Hey, are you feeling okay? You seem a bit out of it," Sam asked, looking at him in concern.

Danny grinned up at Sam, taking both of his hands in his own. "I'm great, Sam-a. Just really enjoying the night, it's beautiful out here."

Sam pulled him up, keeping one set of hands interlaced as they carefully hobbled over to the rink and stepped out onto the ice.

"It is lovely. I like the lights, it's like we're back in Frankenmuth," Sam said.

Danny nodded in agreement. In truth, the most beautiful thing in the scene was Sam - but he'd get called a sap if he said that aloud.

They skated along, utilizing the skills they had learned growing up in Michigan to avoid teetering children and successfully turn around corners.

At one point, the DJ changed the music to an older Christmas selection, indicating the departure of most of the families with small children. They moved along to Bing Crosby, Frank Sinatra, Eartha Kitt, and all the good classics.

When "I Was The One" came on, Sam's face lit up like he was one of the sweet angels perched on the Christmas tree in the center of the square.

Danny let Sam guide them to a slow stop near the east side of the rink, and throw an arm around his neck. They swayed slowly to Elvis, holding to each other tightly to avoid losing balance and grinning like lunatics.

~ And then one day

I had my love as perfect as could be

She lived, she loved, she laughed, she cried,

And it was all for me ~

Danny looked at Sam as the danced and sang together, harmonizing their voices like Josh had taught them. His breath caught at the end of the last line: the sight before him would be held like precious glass in his memory forever.

There were snowflakes in Sam's lashes, and, it seemed, a few were actually in his eyes. It could have been the shining lights of the skating rink, too, highlighting the absolute joy emanating from Sam's beautiful face. It was then Danny became convinced once and for all that Sam was actually made out of starshine and prayers, sugar and spice, pure love and radiance.

Sam was beaming at him, positively glowing with affection and happiness. Danny felt his chest beat hard and the air rush out of him in a white cloud.

Their heads moved closer together, the magnetic draw between them undeniable. Sam rested his forehead against Danny, eyes closed, squeezing his hand.

Danny wished he could draw Sam closer, tighten the arm sitting low around his waist, but they were still on ice skates. He settled for relishing in the feel of Sam's sweet breath against his lips and their hands locked together; almost as intertwined as their heart strings.

Danny kept swaying when the next song came on, not willing to let go of Sam. They stayed in their corner of the ice, no longer moving about like the more skilled couples who could actually dance on their skates.

A breeze swept past, carrying a few stray snowflakes from the grey clouds and a cider-scented chill. They danced and skated for nearly an hour, until the rink closed down for the night. They exited stumbling, laughing and still clinging to each other.

Sam sighed happily, nudging Danny's shoulder as they walked down the lit up streets back to their hotel.

Danny took their still linked hands and put them back in his pocket, making Sam pull closer to him as they walked. Sam grinned at him; a small, private smile that was able to encompass the whole night in one toothy quirk of pink lips.

When they passed the bar the twins had gone into, Danny could hear singing coming from inside. Sounded like Jake finally got drunk enough for Josh to convince him to do a karaoke duet like he always wanted. Danny was a little disappointed that he couldn't witness what was surely a glorious moment - an excellent black mail oppurtunity - but he wasn't going to end his night with Sam so easily.

As soon as they got into the elevator, Sam slumped against him. Danny was also exhausted after all the skating; sugar and adrenaline wearing off and leaving them candy shells without any energy left inside.

They made their slow way down the hall to their shared room, a shaking hand and fuzzy eyes making Danny take several tries to unlock it. He felt almost drunk, the kind of bone deep tired that only resulted from an exhilarating day continued well into the night.

Sam shuffled towards the bathroom, shedding slightly damp clothes in his wake. He ran the tap into one of the paper cups on the counter, taking a sip and turning around to give some to Danny, who had followed him.

Danny finished the water and set it aside. He put his arms around Sam, swaying them like they where back on the ice rink. Sam buried his face in Danny's neck, both hands curled around his shoulders from the back, and moved with him.

"That was honestly the best night I've ever had," Sam said, laughing into his shoulder.

Danny smiled, taking his hair out of the bun and stroking it.

"Agreed, that was fun. We should go out like that more often."

"Are you telling me we should go on more dates?" Sam asked, lifting his to raise his brow at Danny in his signature 'really?' face.

That was a date? That.... that was a date. Danny decided that he did want to go on more "dates" with Sam as long as they were like this one.

"Yeah, we should. And I am. I like spending time with you, Sammy," Danny whispered, looking his best friend in the eyes. Even in the harsh bathroom light, Sam was beautiful.

"I do too," Sam whispered back. "You can take me out as often as you want, but you have to pay for the ice cream sometimes."

"Of course."

They stuck together, dancing their way clumsily back to the bed, Sam giggling the entire time. He flopped back onto the king, kicking a foot up into he air and looking expectant. Danny shook his head fondly but complied in taking Sam's shows off, tossing the boots near the closet.

He sat down on the bed to take his own shoes off, Sam's hand running up and down his back when he bent over to untie them. Danny laid back, Sam's arm still on his back so now he was the one being held.

Sam rolled them over a bit, so that he was lying on top of Danny. He swore he was going to get up in just a minute to finish getting undressed and get under the covers, but Danny just couldn't make himself push Sam off of him. They fell asleep like that, cuddled on top of the blankets, too asleep to notice the twins - loudly, drunkenly - check on them.

#fanfiction #slash fiction #greta van fleet #sanny #samxdanny #sam kiszka #danny wagner #fluff #series #slow burn #my writing #lulucrowproductions

[pinksparklyshampain-blog]

Heaven - Oneshot

Word Count: 2,210

Pairing: Ryden (Ryan Ross/Brendon Urie)

Category: Fluff. Like LOTS of fluff.

Brendon was a sinner and he couldn't deny it. Whenever people told him that "He was going to Hell" he couldn't help but to agree. It was, after all, the truth.

So when one day, as he peacefully walked through the small woods near his home, he heard thunder and loud crashing sounds, it was either: A- All a dream, made up by his sick mind or;

B- The time of his death. It was today he was visiting Hell and he was not ready for it.

Brendon heard something heavy falling from the branches, as the leaves crackled, adding onto the sound of snaps and tumbling.

And then it all stopped with a loud thud, as he finally saw what caused all of it. There was a man. There was a body, who had fallen off… wait where did he fall off from? Well, obviously the trees, but why? How?

The state he was in clearly didn't help. Everything was exposed, his lower half only hidden by silk, who now looked all wrinkled and rough. It stopped above the knees and fit him like a skirt. It had a peachy pink color, now covered in mud, dirt, and plants.

His curly hair had a chestnut color and a certain shine to it. Twigs and leaves were stuck in it as it glued to his face.

That's when it hit him. His back was tinting the ground in a deep crimson color. He was bleeding. Oh no. What if someone found him here and arrested him by mistake? What if he was hallucinating all of this?

And so forth the thoughts continued. They were only interrupted by faint breathing and coughing. He looked over at the pale man who was gracefully laying down on the grass. His chest grew, his body trembling from the action. He released the air irregularly.

Somehow, he had survived the fall. There was no way. That was it. He was hallucinating.

The man slowly opened his lids, revealing beautiful hazel eyes. As he saw Brendon, the injured man started breathing at a quicker pace. The before peaceful look turned into one of horror and pleading mercy.

"Please demon, don't hurt me" - The man said, pausing ever so slightly as it was clearly too much effort for him. His voice sounded raspy. At the same time, he lifted up his torso a bit, then proceeding to use his weak, trembling elbows to try and get away from Brendon.

Brendon couldn't say he wasn't insulted before. He had heard a lot from his family and strangers. But they were usually related to his sexuality. Never had he ever heard someone call him a 'demon'.

"I am not a demon. I'm human, like you...?" Brendon said trying to get closer. He noticed feathers in the mix of blood and dirt.

The pale man, who looked more like a boy now, mumbled something, then raised his voice.

"If not in" His voice failed multiple times, as if saying that word would hurt him more than he already is. "Hell," he spat out "where am I?"

"Welcome to earth," Brendon said in a tone of irony, expecting a roll of eyes or an irritated comeback. Instead, he received a look of pure shock.

"Here, I need to take care of your wounds" Brendon said while trying to get close to the hazel-eyed man.

The man fought with all of his strength until his exhaustion took over and he passed out.

Brendon grabbed him by his arms, laying him over his shoulder. While doing so, he noticed something unusual on the man's back.

-/-

When Ryan woke up he was in a strange place. Laying on his back, wearing a T-shirt that looked more like a dress with holes unsymmetrically cut onto it, over his tunic. Everything was clean and he was fully wrapped in bandages. Ryan tried to move, only to be interrupted by a voice. "No! Don't move yet, it will hurt" - He recognized it as the same voice of the person he had encountered earlier.

He struggled to get out of the man's grip, soon after giving up. He played with his curls until he inhaled a sharp breath, pain spreading through his whole body as he jolted up.

"Please…. Please stop." Ryan paused at the end, as he wanted to add in a name. Yet he didn't know the man's name. "Brendon." He quickly said "And if you want to fly again birdie, I gotta fix your wings" "I'm Ryan" The angel murmured while he slightly moved around "But you do understand how it works right?" Brendon held the wet cloth he was using to clean the wound up, his brows lifted in an expression of interest. "You waste your time helping a bird for it only to fly away from you and never to be seen again."

Brendon chuckled, going back to cleaning the wound. "Yet it still needs help to fly, doesn't it?"

Ryan sighed going back to playing with his hair, as he jolted up when the human beside him touched a sensitive spot. He made a small noise, as would a child when their parent tries to clean a small wound they got while playing.

"Sorry." - Now he was sure, God was testing his virtues. 'Stay patient' was what he told himself every time Brendon did something wrong or touched a sensitive place.

"Fuck!" Brendon screamed, dropping the wet cloth in anger as he brought a hand to his head. The angel, scared, turned his head, brown eyes meeting hazel ones. "What? Never heard anyone swear?"

Ryan slowly shook his head sideways. "Sorry, forgot you're a 'heavenly creature' "

"Don't say it like that it sounds weird." - He said turning back around, trying to hide his smile

"Whatever you say birdie." Brendon cleaned around the wings for a few more minutes before placing the damp cloth on his nightstand.

"Alright Ryan, think you can get up?" The angel sighed, using his hands to support his weight, his arms trembling as he slowly got on his knees. After that he flung himself forward. Just as soon as his feet touched the ground, he dropped forward, his heart skipping a beat before Brendon caught him.

"Maybe you'll need some help," He said, flinging the other's arm over his neck while placing his other arm around Ryan's waist. Then, he helped him step into and then sit, on the already full (and almost overfilled) tub. At first, the water burned his body, but soon it turned into warm and welcoming.

"You can take your clothes off there and throw them on the sink, I'll be back in 30 minutes" Brendon said before leaving, not completely closing the door.

20 minutes had passed and Brendon started hearing singing. Being curious, as always, he decided to peek through the small gap. Turns out the angel decided to have a bubble bath. His legs rested on the edge, his feet outside, while he played with the foam giggling and singing. Were those birds on the window stool? Ryan picked up some foam and blew it away. It turned into little pieces before falling into the pile of foam again. The birds sang. His hair was completely wet with foam on it. Brendon couldn't believe the stubborn creature actually had a Disney Princess side. This whole thing seemed like a Disney movie, just a darker and weirder version. He turned around, waited a little bit before knocking on the door. He entered, collected the clothes and left new dry ones next to him. "Change in there, when you're done just call me." "Sure." - He said, clearly annoyed. The raven-head left and waited to be called. After that he repeated what he did to bring him to the bathroom, sitting him down on the bed. "So!"- Brendon paused to breath "Can we eat pizza today?" "What's that?"- He said shifting a little to feel more comfortable. "The best food to be ever created! You have to try it!" He grabbed a weird object from his pocket, touched it a few times before bringing it to his ear and speaking. After some minutes he put it back on his pocket, leaving a confused Ryan.

-/-

He was brushing his chestnut locks when Brendon arrived with a box and sat across from him with his legs crossed (was he copying him?). He opened the box and took out a slice for him and another for Ryan. The angel didn't hesitate to take a bite and pouted when a string of cheese connected his lips to the slice. Suddenly Brendon broke that with his index finger. "There you go."

-/-

Day 5 Chores. How he hated them. There was just this sense of boredom as he dusted everything and tried to make his house not look like a complete mess. When he passed by his closed bedroom door (one of Ryan's many preferences) Brendon heard muffled talking and, being the nosy bitch he was, placed his ear against the wood as a cartoon character would. "You know, I miss the feeling of flying" Silence. Was he talking to himself? Maybe his girlfriend or a spirit? He knocked twice before saying "Can I come in or are you busy?" He would never forget the sight of him trying on skirts (which was what he decided to do once his legs started to get better). "Yeah" Came out the muffled sound from the other side. Brendon slowly opened the door. The angel was sitting in a W position, the old skirt being used once again. "Who… Who were you talking to?" Ryan pointed at his houseplant who looked very overgrown. "Can I cut that? It has gotten a little overgrown" "Would you like it if I cut your friends?" An awkward silence. "So you miss flying huh?" "If you think you can make fun of me because of that -" "Here, get on my back" Brendon positioned himself in front of Ryan and lowered himself. It took a few seconds until Ryan finally wrapped his arms around Brendon's neck and his legs around his body. Brendon held the angel's legs with his arms and started running around his house, trying to not break anything. Ryan started giggling and laughing, his wings jolting up. The sound was enough to make the energy of the room lighten up. So it was true that whenever angels laughed miracles happened. Brendon started to play Vivaldi's Spring on his phone and with the flow of the music, started to spin around. The piggyback ride turned into more of a dance. Brendon felt a weird feeling in his stomach at that moment. Ryan giggled again and the world completely stopped, his heart beating faster. 'Oh fuck.' - Brendon thought. No. No. No, no, no. This couldn't be happening. Brendon knew his love life was completely fucked up, his last relationship lasted at least a week with a boy from his hometown. That was when his parents found out about his "preferences" and very kindly asked him to go burn and rot in hell. After that little case he swore to himself he would never feel anything for anyone. And yet he fell again. Better yet, he fell for an angel. A sassy, moody angel. "Hey, you ok?" -Ryan said still slightly smiling. "Yeah, it's nothing."-He smiled back, now with a weird feeling in his stomach. "So… Um… Now that my wings are healing I"- He paused for a second sorting his thoughts- "We need to talk." Hearing that Brendon went cold. Maybe Ryan was finally going to fly away. He walked back to the room setting the angel back on the bed and awkwardly sitting beside him. "What do you want to tell me birdie?"

"What do you want to tell me birdie?"- The man in front of him said, making him shiver and his breath became uneven. Ryan had had enough hiding and fooling around. He needed to tell him. It didn't matter now if he felt the same or if he kicked him out of this house forever. The angel opened his mouth to say something, anything, but nothing came out. Blood flowed to his cheeks. "I…I don't really know how to phrase this but"- He paused. Maybe he could change the focus and say "sorry for getting feathers all over your couch yesterday" or "sorry for worrying you when that cat attacked me and I cried like a child" "I have no idea how, but I think I like you"- He said very fast and all at once. He noticed Brendon took a while to process it all which made Ryan's heart beat even faster. All he saw then was the other man lean in and place a soft kiss to his lips "I love you too birdie"

#fanfic #oneshot #ryden fanfiction #lina writes #this is so bad #I don't know how to tag stuff #tooth rotting fluff #seriously this is pure fluff #panic! at the disco #this is actually sort of old tbh #it also took 3 months to write #hope someone likes it tho

[dndgamergirl]

Gun toting hippies and brain sex

OK before I get into this I do a lot of games. This game is more of a mutant and masterminds home brew anti hero campaign you have been warned So yeah I've been in about 4 mutants and masterminds games. I've played super hero games before with Marvel/DC. But this game has me thinking a lot on how my character would go about keeping her identity secret. I guess some background is needed now so allow me to set the scene.

Zladnoyna, Siberia Russia Iron curtain campaign Modern day The idea of the world is that after the cold war the communist party is still going on and is now finally collapsing. Unknown to the common people pole commissars the secret police have no one to hold them back. The inner walls of the communist state are keeping the members of the communist party safe from the outside world that the common folk live in. A new drug called dark stain is the drug of choice for druggies who struggle day by day to keep their fix of the drug or succumb to their dark sides. Conspiracies are rampant in the city as the propaganda is still being fed through media, schools and newspapers. The only truth the common folk can trust is their word of mouth but even then must be careful of their words because mother Russia is still listening.

With this in your mind you can now see why I was excited. For me as a player and history nut this is a dream. I have always had a interest in Russian politics of the past and even the fashion and architecture of the country. On top of that add in the iron age of comics when antiheroes came out I'm in. In this world you character can freely be an ass to anyone for any reason and have just cause almost. At the same time for me I remember with this campaign the literature from George Orwell (animal farm and 1984) along with the ideas of repo genetic rock opera, underworld, and sincity. It was from that I was able to shape my characters way of thinking but at the same time I also used the idea of tragic backstory to make a chapters come to life. In t party as of now we have a commissar, a science experiment, a mafia member, a poisoner, and druggie teacher. Each character is struggling with their own monsters, some have alliances to one another that go back a ways and as of such the watch over each other like family. Others are looked at as odd or not even human. Some are respected but at the same time feared. They cover each other and at the same time can easily ruin the other's life. A mutual trust is placed between party members. A if you scratch my back I'll scratch yours way.

In the next few posts as I go I'll be cataloging each adventure on wednesdays this is the sum up of the first game of the iron curtain. The game opens with a protest march. It is a normal peaceful march. The streets are crowded with basically no sight of the protest becoming violent. Its right now no more than a shouting match between the two sides. Under a tree two women sit with signs and a bottle of vodka. Along with these two a odd girl comes up and makes mention of looking to poison someone in the conversation that is struck between the three. One makes motion to move from the girl as they are trying to keep from being caught up in something to get them thrown in jail. A ways way from this a half bear half allosaurus anthro is now balling up into a ball to get to where he can see what is going on in the throng. Sadly although holding back his action causes the protest to turn from a shouting match to a all out brawl. This caused the commissars to fire back and to try and cause the crowd to stop and disperse.

In the midst of the fight the two women make a run for it. One flings the other over their shoulder and runs the third fallowing them and run through a portal into a dark nightclub. This club is colored in venta black paint on the walls, the lights are darklights and heavy death metal is playing in the background. The feeling is off in this place their brains trying to process. A sign barely seen in the darkness reads vantablack club. To those that can smell it the drug dark stain is heavy on the establishment and people those that do not use the drug are easily spotted from the fact of the scent of the drug is not in their bodies. All around however are those tained by the addiction. Dancers are fully monochrome as if they had stemmed from a black and white movie or cartoon from the political propaganda films of old. They make their way to the bar while one makes their way to a dealer and makes a transaction oddly it is much cheaper then they get from their dealer and they head back to the others to start drinking. They are joined by the dino bear and comassar all sit and talk a while before the teacher stands like a robot and walks to a wall disappearing. While 2 of the party freak out the rest seem calm. The dino bear pops their head through informing the others she seems to be hypnotically dancing. Once she is snapped out of it she is pulled from the room and they all seem to calm. After a bit one wishes to go home but is unable to find there way not knowing where they are. A deal is struck for a portal to send them out of the bar but at the cost of 200 ruples.

When payed the portal is opened they are out of the bar but further from their destination as two drunk women laugh in the bar. They look around finding the park they and the dino bear are in is covered in hippies and not just any gun toting mk17 rifle hippies all showing they are armed but will not shoot unless shot at. They speak to a passer by and are confused at their words. They ask another who seems to be floating. When really the strawberry blond witch is levitating she is enlightened beyond the means of the person asking questions of her. She is informed she is lost. She is asked where she would like to be and at the snap of the fingers she is home free to mix poisons as she pleases. All the while cursing and cursing the woman that sent her in the wrong direction and at the same time planning to confront her once again. The dinobear likes the park. He stays a while. Then walks home past the protest line allowed to go and come so long as he makes no trouble.

The next day the poisoner looks up the teacher who set her in the wrong way. She is flagged by the government and the commissar is sent to the school to watch over the teacher. The teacher informs the commissar about the woman they saw with their friend that fact she was looking to poison someone. Note is made as a child is brought back from the bomb shelter out of fear of the commissars presence. At home the poisoner sets up camp on the teachers neighbors house waiting for her.  The dino bear waves from across the street. When the teacher and the commissar get there the poisoner demands her money back. Stating that she was not sent the right way. When really the teacher didn't know the name of the shop and where it was. She points out all she said was she wanted to be around herbs. So she placed her around herbs in a  safe place. The poisoner is forced to succumb to reason. And is also told they are tagged a terrorist. A disembodied brain comes over to visit. He explains his form by drifting through someone's head. He is accused of having brain sex.  They drink they talk. They are explained in family relations. The two next door drunks sisters in their close bonds of secrecy. The brain a cousin. The commissar is a friend. The dinobear a freak show to some a brother or dad to the poisoner and the poisoner the family cat. Each taking a step on the ladder of the descent into the hell that will await them after this calm meeting.

In this i have hidden viewers that my character thinks of others in this game. I'll be reporting on the game from both a mix of lera’s point of view and my own but in one of these paragraphs i have hidden a  clue on things about my character’s way of thinking. At the same time i am mostly going to try and write it from her point of view now and then in the form of a dairy that i will be placing as i can slowly with each game play we have. Until next time lets just hope that two drunks don't trip down the stairs the dinobear don't knock a wall down the commissar doesn't kill anyone and the poisoner doesn't do themselves in by accident.

#dnd #mutants and masterminds #superheros #antiheros #dnd characters #dndgamergirl

[sanctum-of-fantasy]

My first fic for the Bendy and the Ink Machine series, starring Henry and an OC named Nick the Imp who was created with the help of @equuleusceleris.

Hope you guys enjoy!

Title: Friends in Small Places Series: Bendy and the Ink Machine Genre: Suspense, Comedy Word Count: 1595 Summary: Even in the depths of an Ink covered hell, one could find friends in small places as Henry was about to learn.

Find somewhere safe

Find somewhere safe

This was the phrase Henry repeated in his head as he bolted down one hallway, slamming into a wall after sliding through a pool of ink. He groaned, holding his shoulder as he he jerked his head to see down the hall, eyes wide as he continued to run, ignoring the pain in his arm. He couldn't stop, stopping would let those things get him.

What the hell did you do Joey?

This all was a nightmare, a nightmare that kept getting worse. His heart pounded so hard against his chest he could hear it in his ears. Eyes darting everywhere, searching for more of whatever was chasing him, only seeing more ink stains, more cracked and broken walls and ceiling boards. Henry shut his eyes for a moment, fatigue causing his vision to blur.

He stopped, opening his eyes, mind in overtime as he prepared to make a quick decision, one that could lead him to more danger. Who was he kidding though, this whole place was a death trap.

Two hallways, his current path split into two choices. Either one would lead to more unknowns, more danger. One choice was to keep going straight, the other was turn left and see what was down that way. 'Pick one quick' he swore to himself, breathing deep, quick breaths. The constantly dropping from broken pipe echoed in the all too quiet hall.

Take the left one, he decided and rushed down the hall, hoping for some sort of place to hide, if only for a few moments. He swore to himself loudly in his mind, why did he have to be curious? Why did he have to visit the old studio?

As he ran forward, something he passed caught his gaze out of the corner of his eye. Taking a chance he paused and ran back to it. A door, with light spilling out from inside, and completely open. He could see furniture within as well, heavy enough he could move against the door as a barricade. Might be my only chance, I’ll take to it!

Taking a deep breath he ran forward, grabbing the door handle and slamming the door shut behind him. He closed his eyes, relief overcoming him for several moments as he remained pressed against the door. Fearing for the moment his peace would as another ink covered monster tried to kill him. He tried to slow down his breathing, to stop his heart from beating so fast. Henry's mind caught up with him at that moment, he spun around to face door, locking it and searching for something to block it with, a nearby file cabinet was perfect. Somehow he managed to drag it in front of the door despite it’s weight.

That should hold...hopefully. He backed away from the door, breathing still quick as his legs began to shake as the fatigue set in. He collapsed in a desk chair, shakily running a hand through his hair. “...What am I going to do” He asked himself, turning to lean his elbows against the desk. There was no telling how long his peace would last, and he would have to leave the room eventually.

He closed his eyes, content on breathing and resting for as long as he could, the room was safe. No ink on the walls or ceiling, no pentagrams either.

Safe

Suddenly one of the drawers in the desk began to shake violently, rattling loudly in its place, scratching coming from within. Henry jumped back, one hand gripping the chair, the other gripping the edge of the desk, as his mind prepared him to bolt at any moment.

The file cabinet's in the way

The drawer shook more, the scratching becoming louder and quicker, as if something was desperate to get out. Cautiously Henry tried to relax himself, rationalizing that the things he encountered before were too big to fit in a small desk drawer, it could just a rat or small other animal lost in the studio.

Only one way to find out

With a shaking hand he pulled open the drawer, shutting his eyes and bracing for whatever horror came out. “I'm free, my savior has arrived!.....Who the heck are you?” a voice, unknown with a New York accent (as for as he could tell) spoke. Startled and slightly dumbfounded he cracked his eyes open and spotted....the oddest little creature.

It was completely black, signaling it's origin from ink, reminding Henry of something someone might have doodled in a notebook in class. It was small, maybe a foot or so tall, with feet that ended with two claws, a tail that ended with a point. Its head was in the classic Bendy the Dancing Demon shape, round with curved horns, with white eyes in the usual style, though its white mouth was unsettling, the jagged smile like one from a jack-o-lantern pumpkin. He tried to remember what character from the cartoon it was but he couldn't remember, he was exhausted from the latest events.

He was content just stare with his mouth shut, watching as the small creature dropped its arms from a victory pose and jumped out of the drawer, stretching its arms above its head and made an action as if it was popping its back. It cocked its head, its mouth disappeared as it shut, and stared at him. “Seriously, who are you?” It asked, for the first time since he entered the studio from hell, he was having a conversation with a cartoon character.

Warily, he took a breath and answered “My name is Henry”. As if his name was known to the creature it snapped its fingers, mouth opening to an 'o' shape “You are the guy!” It spoke, a excited tone on its voice.

He stared, one eyebrow lifting up “The guy?” and watched as the creature almost danced on its feet. “Yeah the guy!” It jumped on his hand that was still braced on the desk, sitting there for a moment as he flinched. “My name is Nick, as in Nick the Imp. You probably don't remember me, it's been ages man. I can't believe you're actually here!” it-he, Nick said as he crawled up Henry's arm, grinning brightly. Henry resisted the urge to fling the small cartoon creature off of him.

“Do you know what's going on here?” He asked slowly, watching as Nick settled on to his shoulder, clawed hands and feet hanging on tightly to his shirt. “Yeah man, its been crazy. But you’re in luck, I'm gonna help you” Nick said, patting Henry's shoulder in a reassuring manner. Henry frowned as he shook his shoulder slightly “Why should I trust a demon on my shoulder?” he had all the reason to doubt the cartoon, after all the time he just spent running from the demented form of...whatever those were.

“I'm an Imp, and it's not like you've seen Alice around have you? No? Exactly my point, so consider me your conscious for a bit big guy, I know this place like the back of my own claws!” Nick said, poking Henry in the cheek slightly as he spoke. Henry's face twitched as the sharp little claw poked him.

“That doesn't really assure me Nick” He said, brushing the clawed hand away from his face. As for as he knew the Imp could back stab him at any moment. Wasn't something he was really risk any away, he moved to grabbed Nick but he climbed away, down his back. Henry stood up and try and grab again, but he kept moving around him.

“Woah woah easy there big guy! Have some faith in me, otherwise you're gonna be wandering around here until Bendy or Sammy gets you” Nick shouted, flinging to the back of Henry's shirt by his neck. Henry paused then, hands still close to grabbing the pesky cartoon. As much as he didn't want to admit it, Nick had a point. He knew this place and what had happened, might know how to stop it, he'd have to take another chance...

“No funny business got it?”  Henry warned, frowning and watching as Nick climbed his way back on to his shoulder and grinned broadly, jagged mouth stretching and eyes going wide “But guy, funny business is my job!” and burst out chuckling, wiping one claw under an eye like he was wiping away a tear. That action didn't assure Henry, and he thought about brushing the cartoon off his shoulder for a moment. However the reasonable part him-the same one that decided to visit the old studio-decided not too.

Instead he stood up, rubbing his eyes for a moments “Right....so any ideas?” he asked. If he was being completely honest with himself, he didn't exact have a plan at the moment. Didn't have a chance to think of one, besides not getting killed.

“Open up the door and we'll play this one step at a time, big guy. Might wanna check out the boiler room, dear old Sammy has been crazy about that place” Nick suggested, as Henry shoved the filing cabinet out of the doorway, and braced himself to reenter his living nightmare.

“Relax big guy, I got your back. I ain't no prop, you get in a tight spot, I'll get you out no problem” Nick said in a light tone as he patted Henry's shoulder as they left the safety of the room. In the back of Henry's mind, he remained doubtful of the Imp.

#bendy and the ink machine #batim #batim fanfic #batim oc #Nick the Imp #anony's writing

[lovemesomesurveys]

1) What images do you have set for your desktop/cell phone wallpapers? My desktop is a playful photo of Alexander Skarsgård with two dogs, my lock screen is a photo of, no surprise here, Alexander Skarsgård, and my home screen is a photo of my chocolate lab, Brandie.

2) Have you ever had a crush on a teacher? No.

3) What was your last text message? My brother asking me to open the door for him when he got home earlier.

4) What do you see yourself doing in 10 years? I have no idea. I have to take things day by day.

5) If you could be anywhere else right now, where would you be? Hmm. In a cozy cabin by the fireplace with a cup of coffee.

6) What was your coolest Halloween costume? I don’t know what I’d consider my coolest to be.

7) What was your favorite 90s show? I watched like All That, Rugrats, Doug, etc.

8) Who was your last kiss? Joseph.

9) Have you ever been stood up? Yes.

10) Favorite ice cream flavor? Strawberry and birthday cake.

11) Have you been to Las Vegas? No.

12) Your favorite pair of shoes? My All Star Addidas.

13) Honestly, have you ever cheated on your significant other? I’m single.

14) What is your favorite fruit? Bananas.

15) Have you talked to anyone on tumblr that you could see yourself dating/having sex with? If possible? No.

16) Are you into hookups? Short or long term relationships? No. I did the friends with benefits, fling thing. I’m almost thirty years old, I want something real.

17) Do you smoke? If so, what? I used to smoke weed sometimes.

18) What do you do to get over your anger? Mostly I cry and just sulk. Vent about it in a survey.

19) Do you believe in God? Yes.

20) Does the person you’re in love with know it? I’m not in love with anyone.

21) Favorite position? I wouldn’t know.

22) What’s your horoscope sign? Leo.

23) Your fears? Death of loved ones and myself, things just getting worse and never changing, failure, disappointment, all bugs/insects, closed spaces, heights, deep water, needles, the dentist, etc, etc.

24) How many pets do you have? What kind? I don’t have any anymore. :( For eight years we had a loving, sweet, kind, adorable, silly chocolate lab named Brandie. She passed away unexpectedly two months ago. It still hurts. I miss her everyday, she was my baby. <3

25) What never fails to turn you on? Alexander Skarsgård.

26) Your idea of a perfect first date? I always thought the beach and boardwalk thing sounded cute. Like riding the rides and play games on the boardwalk and such. Winning me a stuffed animal. Eating cotton candy and other yummy food. Something like that.

27) What is something most people don’t know about you? Hmm...

28) What makes you feel the happiest? My dog did. :(

29) What store do you shop at most often? Nowadays, the only store I go to regularly is Wal-Mart because we do our grocery shopping there. I haven’t been to the mall or did any clothes shopping in awhile. One of my friends and I used to go to the mall once a month, but then stuff happened in both of our lives and we just haven’t gone in awhile.

30) How do you feel about oral? Giving and/or receiving? I never have done either.

31) Do you believe in karma? No.

32) Are you single? Yes.

33) Do you think flowers or candy are a better way to apologize? Just apologize to me. And mean it. But also coffee and food helps.

34) Are you a good swimmer? No.

35) Coffee or Tea? Coffeeeeee.

36) Online shopping or shopping in person? In person, but I like doing some online shopping as well. I’m just too impatient and hate having to wait for it to arrive.

37) Would you rather be older or younger than your current age? Younger.

38) Cats or Dogs? Dogs.

39) Are you a competitive person? No.

40) Do you believe in aliens? I’m not sure where I stand, really.

41) Do you like dancing? Dancing for me is just head bobbing and maybe moving my arms a bit.

42) What kind of music to you listen to? I like variety.

43) What is your favorite cartoon character? I don’t have one.

44) Where are you from? California.

45) Eat at home or eat out? Get take out to eat at home. haha.

46) How much more social are you when you’re drunk? I would a lot more talkative when drunk.

47) What was the last thing you bought for yourself? Some makeup and food items.

48) Why do you think your followers follow you? They like surveys, I’m guessing.

49) How many hours do you sleep at night? Five, sometimes six.

50) What worries you most about the future? E v e r y t h i n g.

51) If you had a friend that spoke to you the same way you speak to yourself, how long would you be friends? Yikesss. We wouldn’t be.

52) Are you happy with yourself? No.

53) What do you wish you didn’t know? *shrug*

54) What big lesson could people learn from your life? Ha, I have no idea.

55) If you could live in any home on a television series, what would it be? I’m watching this new show called, Big Little Lies, and it takes place in a beach town. All the characters live in gorgeous beach houses and gah that is goals.

56) What’s your favorite Website? Tumblr.

57) What’s the habit you’re proudest of breaking? I haven’t really broken any notable habits.

58) What was your most recent trip of more than 50 miles? I haven’t gone anywhere outside of my city in quite awhile.

59) What’s the best bargain you’ve ever found at a garage sale or thrift store? I’ve never gone to a garage sale, and I haven’t really gone thrift store shopping. I’ve look around, but didn’t find anything really.

60) What do you order when you eat Chinese food? Chow mien, orange chicken, pot sticks, crab Rangoon, and egg rolls.

61) If you had to be named after one of the 50 states, which would it be? Georgia or Virginia.

62) If you had to teach a subject to a class, what would it be? English.

63) Favorite kind of chips? Spicy.

64) Favorite kind of sandwich? Either salami, turkey, bologna, or pastrami with provolone, mustard, and mayo. If I get a deli sandwich, I’ll add oil and vinegar.

65) Which do you use more often, the dictionary or the thesaurus? I haven’t used either one in a long time.

66) Have you ever been stung by a bee? No.

67) What’s your favorite form of exercise? Ha. Me. Exercise. Good one.

68) Are you afraid of heights? Yes.

69) What’s the most memorable class you’ve ever taken? A lot of my psychology courses.

70) What’s your favorite breakfast? Breakfast burritos.

71) Do you like guacamole? Yesss.

72) Have you ever been in a physical fight? No.

73) What/who are you thinking about right now? Right at this very moment I’m thinking about getting a cup of coffee and something sweet to eat. It’s my normal after dinner routine.

74) Do you like cuddling? Yes.

75) Are you holding onto something you need to let go of? Yes.

76) Have you ever experienced one of your biggest fears? Yes.

77) Favorite city you’ve been to? A few in my state.

78) Would you break the law to save a family member? Yes.

79) Talk about an embarrassing moment? Nahhh.

80) Are there any causes you strongly believe in? Yes.

81) What’s the worst injury you’ve ever had? The one that made me a paraplegic, I’d say.

82) Favorite day of the week? I don’t have one.

83) Do you consider yourself sexually open minded? I have zero sexual experience, so I don’t know what I’d be comfortable with and what I wouldn’t be okay with.

84) How do you feel about porn? Not my thing.

85) Which living celebrity would you like to know? I’m sure you could guess. Coughalexanderskarsgardcough.

86) Who was your hottest ex? Joseph.

87) Do you want/have kids? I don’t know.

88) Has anyone ever told you that they wanted to marry you? No.

89) Do you get easily distracted? Yes, sometimes.

90) Ass or titties? A nice firm butt on a guy is nice. ha.

91) What is your favorite word? I don’t know.

92) How do you feel about tattoos? They can be cool. It all depends.

93) Do you have any pets? No.

94) How tall are you? I would have been about 5′7.

95) How old are you? Twenty-seven.

96) 3 physical features you get complimented on a lot? My hair. That’s really it.

97) Is there anything you’re really passionate about? No. :/

98) Do you have trust issues? I just have a hard time opening up and expressing myself to others.

99) Do you believe in love at first sight? No.

#personal #text #survey #surveys