#the worst part was the grass I swear to god I nearly gave up and just went THEY'RE ON A BEACH FUCK THIS

[thedustyleaves]

I haven't finished an illustration in ages. I started this before easter (hence the eggs) but life happened 🫠 at least it kinda fits a summer theme as well 🤔

Characters are from my webcomic Bellum Pulchrum!

#bellumpulchrum #bellum pulchrum #drawings #kain #dakon #raki #christie #demon #the worst part was the grass I swear to god I nearly gave up and just went THEY'RE ON A BEACH FUCK THIS

[xo-cuteplosion-xo]

Unrequited love

I should be working on comfort requests-

Instead, I have two ideas that kept me awake last night cause I apparently like to make Dazai suffer.

Angst (Idk kinda?)

Words: 1491

Unrequited love |Dazai x Reader x Chuuya|

Shadows loomed over the night, coating the starless sky. The light provided by street lamps left the deeper down into the alleyways. Cold winds blew past, ruffling the black mafioso coat, the symbol of death. The familiar crimson dripped from the barrel of the mafioso's gun. As it landed the blood crystallized into beautiful roses, courtesy from his partner. Normally there would be three of them. A devil, a demon, and a god. When the three worked together there wasn’t anything they couldn’t do, alone they were just as strong. The devil, as most people in the underworld called him, placed the gun back on its hold. He looked back at the demon with no expression, only jolting his head to the side. Even in the dim light, they were memorized by the devil. Perhaps that’s why they were the demon. What else could love the devil? A man so cruel he held no mercy, not for his co-workers, his enemies, he had nothing to spare. Some pity him, an executive at such a young age, so heartless and cruel. Surely he was suffering beneath the layers. Of course, that’s what they, the demon, thought.

They were 17 when the demon held a bundle of crystallized flowers. Having dipped them in water and turned the liquid that laid atop the petals into crystals they handed them to the male. Dazai, the devil only rolled his eyes. It wasn’t the first or last time this would happen. How many times had they confessed to the brunette, only to receive silence? Then again, they had never said they loved him. The brunette let them cling to him, much to the ginger's displeasure. The god tended to be the middle between them. Chuuya hated watching his partner's ungrateful attitude. To be honest, he was still shocked Dazai hadn’t tried to ravage the one they called a demon.

The day you, the demon, stood in front of Dazai, just before he’d leave forever, you spoke the three words. Instead of silence, he gave that dark shadowy look. Though only one eye was exposed his message was clear. Even in those dark, deadly eyes that showed no emotion, you could tell before he spoke. “When will you take the hint? I don’t have interest in you, never will." His words were so cold.

You looked down as your heart nearly leaped from its place. You stood and watched him leave to the scene of an explosion. You stood before your knees gave out and you fell. That was the last time you would see him for four years.

Dazai spent every day thinking about that moment, the different paths that you could have walked. To not immerse yourself in the senseless bloodshed for life. Had he said yes could you be here among the Agency laughing like you used to? He heard the new rumors, the things they said about you. A Deity of bloodshed. Nobody saw you and lived to tell the tale. An executioner of the port mafia. A heartless demon who lived only to spread their misery to others. They said your eyes were cold and emotionless. No longer lively and that beautiful trap he had been captured by. They said you never laughed, but when you did it was to mock your victims. The cheerful laugh that used to mix into the few good dreams he had now lay within the nightmares. Some Days he woke up and saw the old him. Other times he would wake up from a nightmare and swear you were there. Looking back at him in the mirror. A look of hate on your face as you blamed him for the monster you are.

The rumor that hurt the most had to be your relationship status. Nobody could confirm it, but hearing that you and Chuuya had become a killer duo killed him. Jealousy, anger, disgust, most of that aimed at himself. Another reason to add to the list of miseries he’s gone through. The others at the agency never noticed the way his mind was starting to unravel as rumors increased. As more and more people began to fear the name he regretted tossing to the side. He had been scared of those words, the three words he still can’t say because he’s afraid of how human they make him. For years, he’s been so distant from humanity. Why did it take him so long to realize that pain in his chest as he declined your confessions? The shattering pain he felt when he walked away was his own heart shattering from a love that could have been. He could only imagine you sitting at the desk laughing away with his coworkers. He could imagine his hands over your eyes as he surprised you.

The worst trick of his eyes was when he could really see you sitting there at the empty desk. When he could hear your laughter. Why did this world have to hate him so much? It’s hated him from the day he was born. He hated living so alone, and he could have had somebody, could have shared the miseries of this world with you but he won’t be able to.

Your first appearance at the agency happened during a meeting. The guild would be a problem only the two agencies combined could conquer. His eyes had spotted you immediately. You looked matured, no longer the demon who was far too kind to wear such a title. You truly looked like he had once. Eyes devoid of all emotion. You held your head high, hands behind your back as you took a right next to Mori. Chuuya stood next to you, and upon seeing Dazai his lips curled into a cruel smirk. He leaned over to whisper into your ear.

The smile your lips curled into mirrored the twisted smirk he would wear when delivering punishments to his underlings. He could only shiver before the two of you shared a brisk kiss. His whole world shattered but he held himself together. He kept his unusually bright smile as the two leaders worked out a deal.

When the two of them showed before Dazai he could only wave to hear your voice. “Listen Dazai, neither of us is pleased about working with you. The faster this is done the less we have to deal with you and your heartless personality.” Dazai had no words, he’d never heard you talk like that before. You were always the one silent or praising his accomplishments.

After the mission when Chuuya passed out from using corruption he reached out to you. “Y/n, what happened to you?” among all the questions amidst his mind that one spilled from his lips first.

“Oh Dazai, you happened. The mafia changes people the same way your… current job does.” you sounded disappointed and disgusted.

Behind that mask, you were crying out. Your heart raced as he stood in front of you. A part of you still wanted to hold him as you had. You learned the hard way feelings only granted you pain. “You know, keeping the act up won’t last that long. I recognize the act. Modeled after how I used to hide away?” The snarl that passed over your lips as you reached to punch him didn’t surprise him.

Though it hurt both of you, it took his taunting words to bring out the emotions swimming under the lock. “I hate you. Get it into your head Dazai! You broke me, you abandoned me, you abandoned us! All for what some stupid friend! I was there longer than him Dazai… I held you after nightmares, I cleaned the wounds after battle. Do you know what hurts more than rejection? Abandonment! I trusted you, we trusted you with everything and you threw it all away like nothing. Do you have any idea how much that hurts? He was some stupid friend you spent less time with, knew for less, sure he didn’t kill, he was perfect, better than me but you didn’t even say goodbye!”

He didn’t get to respond before you carried Chuuya off.

Dazai could only stare at the ground and the stains of blood that lay crystallized from your outburst. You had never been good at holding back. He plucked the grass from the ground holding the frozen crimson in his hand. It didn’t melt in his touch as he looked around for a complete flower. He’d kept everything you gave him, he loved the collection of crimson flowers, real flowers, even rain or snow. Your ability was so beautiful and peaceful, like you had been. However, all he found were shards that could cut through flesh. Cruel like the persona you’d adopted to keep yourself from being hurt. He envied Chuuya, who now lay at the receiving end of your love while he stood within the bubble of hate that iced over your heart.

#bsd #bsd angst #bsd angst x reader #bsd x reader angst #bungo stray dogs #bungo stray dogs angst #bungo stray dogs x reader angst #bungo stray dogs angst x reader #dazai #chuuya #chuya #dazai angst #chuuya angst #chuya angst #dazai angst x reader #chuuya x reader angst #chuya x reader angst #dazai x reader #chuuya x reader #chuya x reader #dazai x reader angst #chuuya angst x reader #chuya angst x reader

[tommydarlings]

Who's loving you? | t.h

A/N: I really enjoyed writing this! It's extra kinda long because I never really done anything to thank you for nearly 400 followers!!! Thank you so much <3 (pls don't let this flop) anyway, enjoy! :) ily, liz <3

pairing: Tom Holland x reader

warnings: swearing, use of the word daddy?

w/c: 2.9k (wtf)

Requests: CLOSED

Summary: You and Tom holland are sworn enimies... aren't you?

masterlist || taglist || requests ( in my masterlist)

You hated him and he hated you. Easy.

Tom Holland was your enemy. You couldn't stand this man, he was just so unbelievable selfish. He loved himself, and himself only. He always talked about how smart he is and how many girls he already fucked. Yeah I know, so interesting. He was so in love… with himself, it was so annoying already. You had no idea how anyone could love him or even like him in the slightest, it was a mystery to you.

Why he hated you? You had there a few ideas actually… but it wasn't your fault entirely to be honest.

It all started pretty early, and to be completely honest, it's actually pretty childish why you hated each other so much.

Tom was 8 years old while you were 7. You were neighbors and your parents were pretty good friends so they decided to meet each other once. Well, it didn't ended well, it ended with you crying because Tom ripped the head of your favorite puppet off and laughed while you laid crying in the green and slightly wet grass in your backyard. Little bastard, I know.

But of course you gave him something of his own medicine. Just 4 years later you told his school crush that he likes her, and maybe you told her some lies about him like that he is super gross and that he actually likes another girl too and after that, Tom's crush spoke never a word to him ever again. And after he found out that you told her all that bullshit about him, he hated you to death. He could have litterilly killed you that day.

Since that they you were sworn enimies and basically both promised yourself that you would hate each other for the rest of your life's. Well…

The sad thing was that you both were pretty good friends with Harrison Osterfield aka Tom's best mate. And that's the reason why you both got invited to harrisons birthday party in his favorite club in London. Well, it wasn't exactly a birthday party it was kinda a little get together and spend some time again. It was just Tom, Jacob, zendaya, Jake, Harrison and you. You and Tom in one room. Worst combination ever.

Everyone knew that you two hated each other because it was so fucking obvious. But at the same time everyone knew that there is something in the air. For tom and you just pure hate, but for your friends it was love.

As you entered the club in your beautiful but at the same time short red dress, you spot the group immediately. Harrison waved you over to the table where everyone already sat comfortably on their chairs, the only chair that was free was of course next to the one and only Tom holland.

"sit down princess" Tom said with a grin on his stupid face.

"shut up Thomas" you said while you sat down.

"Yo guys, we are here for a few minutes and you already starting a fight? The night is not gonna end well" Jacob said with a tiny laugh.

"Yep, probably we even have to stop you from attacking each other" jake added. Tom and you just both rolled your eyes and began to order some snacks for the night.

"Can you please pass me the salt Tom?"

"You mean daddy, don't you? he answerd.

"What?" you said with confusion all over your face.

"you mean 'can you please pass me the salt daddy', didn't you?"

You just scoffed before you leaned over the desk and grabbed the salt yourself.

"uhhhh" Tom said with a little smirk.

"what now?" you asked slightly annoyed already.

"nice tits darling"

"fuck off holland"

He just laughed while everyone else on the table had a tiny grin on their face.

"you guys are really unbelievable" zendaya said with a tiny smile painted on her face.

"what do you mean?" you asked as you looked at her.

"you are so in love and you can't even see it" she said while she still wore the tiny grin.

You and Tom just looked at each other before you both rolled your eyes and make some puke noises.

"don't be ridiculous, we all know it" Harrison added.

You and Tom shaked your heads but you still tried to glance at him secretly but he caught you red handed. Because he just looked at you too.

---

"Where is Tom?" you asked the rest of the group.

"I don't know, I think he went outside or something" Jacob said.

You just shaked your head before you stood up and went into the restroom. When you were finish with your business, you left the restroom and bumped right into someone.

"oh, I'm sorry-"

"Hello babygirl"

"Just fuck off Tom" you answered quickly.

"how about…. No?" he said while he slowly backed you up against the wall. After your back hit the wall, he put both of his hands next to your head, so that you were trapped.

"go away Tom, please" you said with a hint of nervousness in your voice.

"I like that"

"what do you mean?" you answered confused.

"when you beg"

You starred at him with pure shook in your eyes. Your legs slowly started to shake and you kinda started to sweat.

"aw, does my little princess gets nervous? Pretty little thing" he fucking whisperd the last part right in your ear.

"I hate you" you spat.

"dont worry doll, I hate you too" he said before he stepped away from the wall and took one last look at you from the top to the bottom before he left.

"What the actual fuck" you whispered to yourself.

Tom made you weak.

---

The rest of the night went pretty good until you had to ruin it all,

"I'm gonna go get some drinks"

"yeah, please bring them, I need them when I have to spend the rest of the night by your side" Tom answerd annoyingly.

"can you shut the fuck up for one second Tom?"

"can you finally suck my dick?" he said with a wide grin.

"fuck off Thomas"

"you didn't said no darling" he yelled after you as you walked away from him. Sadly was the rest of your group the other ones currently outside doing God knows what so it was only you and your sworn enemy in there.

As you stood at the bar waiting for the drinks you felt someone lightly grabbing your ass, at first you though that you just imagined it but after the second time you knew that that is not your imagination.

"hey babygirl" a unfamiliar male voice spoke into your right ear quietly.

"go away" you said annoyingly.

"c'mon, I know that you want it too princess"

"Don't fucking call me that you little asshole" you spat angrily.

Suddenly he grabbed your wrist and turned you around so that you were face to face with him. He looked like he was in his 40's, 50's maybe? Definitely much to old and disgusting for you.

"And you better shut that pretty little mouth of yours doll" he spat back at you angrily.

Suddenly he pulled on your wrist and lead you to a little bedroom in the corner of the club. You know, where people get in to have their fun.

"Let go of me!" you yelled but he didn't reacted, he just threw you on the bed and started to open your dress.

"NO PLEASE NO" you yelled even louder but he didn't cared at all.

Out of nowhere, the man got pushed off of you an someone started to punch him. While you put your dress back on and tried to calm yourself down, the man that just saved you came up from the floor and you couldn't believed who just saved you.

"T-tom?" you said quietly, unsure if he really just saved you from getting raped or if you are dreaming or just wish that it would be like that.

"Are you okay y/n?" he asked as he slowly walked to you.

"Y-yeah, t-thank you t-tom" you said quietly while new tears started to build up in your eyes.

Keep it the fuck together y/n.

"it's okay now y/n, come here" he said as he opened his arms. At first you just starred at him and kinda asked yourself in your head if that's really happening right now or if you dream again.

But as he slightly smiled and nodded his head towards his arms as an invitation, you slowly made your way into his strong arms. But then you started to sob even harder.

"Sshh, it's fine now darling, I got you, okay?" you just slightly nodded with your head before Tom spoke up again,

"Do you want me to drive you home?" you just wanted to agree when you remembered that zendaya got the key for the house you both share and you really didn't wanted to search for here in the club right now, so you asked something you thought that you would never asked,

"Can I come with you?" your voice was literally trembling while you asked him that. He slowly loosened his right grip on you and looked down at you,

"yeah, of course" he said with a kind smile on his face.

"t-thank you" you answered before you both made your way to his car that was parked outside the nasty club.

Tom opened the door for you and you thanked him before the two of you climbed into the car. While you both drove to his house he gently laid his hand on your tight and you jumped up for a quick second.

"Is that okay?" Tom asked quietly.

"Y-yeah" you answered.

"o-okay" he said before started to stroke your leg with his thumb slowly.

---

"you want something to drink? Or eat?" he asked you while you sat comfortably on his couch. "No thanks" he nodded with his head lightly before he made his way over to you on the couch.

"Um t-thank you again Tom, really, you basically saved my life so yeah" you said

"No problem, I already saw him touching you at the bar and I was about to get up and punch this guy but when I saw him dragging you into this 'sex' room, when I can call it that, then I lost it completely"

"why?" you asked quitely out of nowhere.

"what do you mean?"

"why did you save me when you hate me Thomas?"

"because I care about you and by the way, i-I don't hate you y/n, yeah there were maybe some times where I wanted to kill you but I never hated you, I swear"

You couldn't believe it. Did he really just said? Did Tom Holland just said that?!

"r-really?" you asked nervously.

"yes y/n, really"

You were speechless. You were honestly shooked.

"i-wow-i don't k-know what to say, I'm actually really s-speechless right-"

You couldn't even finish before you felt his lips on yours. He just kissed you softly and gently to not push it or anything. He slowly grabbed your hips and put you on his lap. You both separated for a second and just looked into each other's eyes. Tom just wanted to say something but you put your finger over his lips and said,

"Sshh, please don't ruin it now tommy, please"

That's the first time you called him that name and he already loved it so much. He slightly nodded with his head and a tiny smile on his face before he leanded in and started to kiss you gently again.

After a few seconds of gently kissing each other, he puts one of his hands on your cheek and the other one on your hip and depended the kiss. He slowly started to kiss down your neck but you stopped him after a few seconds.

"sorry" he whisperd before he turned his head awys from so he doesn't have to look you in the eyes.

"hey" you whisperd quietly and put both of your hands on his cheeks and turned his head in your direction so you looked each other right in the eyes.

"I r-really like you y/n" he said quietly while he looked at your lips before he looked in your eyes again.

"B-but why, we always hated each other"

"Like I already told you y/n, I don't hate you and I never did, d-did you e-ever hated m-me?"

You knew the answer immediately. But you kinda didn't wanted to admit it.

"I-I don't hate you Tom, and I never did" you said slowly before you started to lean in again but before your lips touched, you spoke up again,

"I really like you too tommy"

"God, I love this name" he said with a tiny laugh.

"I think i'm falling for you" you said.

"I know that you are falling for me, I mean, who wouldn't?" he said in a funny way.

You lightly slapped his chest before you said,

"But your still a jerk"

"But I'm your jerk" he said with a grin.

"yes that's true, my jerk"

You both just looked into each other's eyes and enjoyed the moment before Tom spoke up,

"Do you wanna stay?" he asked nervously.

"Like, sleep here?" you said.

Tom nodded with his head slightly before he said,

"You don't have to I just thought that-"

"I would love to Tommy" you said in between.

With a wide and happy smile Tom nodded with his head again and picked you up.

"What are doing?" you said with a tiny laugh as you looked at him curiously.

"I'm gonna bring you into our bedroom"

"Our bedroom?" you answered.

"Well, for the night it's ours, okay darling?"

"okay Tommy"

And after you said that, he ran upstairs with you in his arms and threw you onto the bed gently. He came on top of you immediately. You both just laughed for a while before you spoke up,

"do you have something I could wear?" you asked quitely.

"yeah, I can give you a t-shirt of mine" he answered.

You nodded with your before he stood up and went to his closet. After a few seconds of searching a t-shirt that could maybe even fit you, he found the perfect one.

A white oversize t-shirt.

You thanked him before you went into the bathroom and changed into Tom's t-shirt while Tom changed in the bedroom. As you came out of the bathroom you saw Tom sitting on the edge of the bed just in his Calvin klein boxers.

Fuck, he looks so good.

You slowly made your way over to him and as you were nearly right infront of him, he stood up and hovered over you with the most serious gaze that you ever saw on Tom. He looked down at you, right into your eyes before he said,

"You look gorgeous baby"

"you too tommy"

He slowly nodded with his head towards the bed and you both climbed into it lazily. You sat down on Tom's lap again. "I promise that I won't hurt you and I promise that I will forever protect you, no matter what alright?" he told you quietly with the prettiest smile ever.

"thanks you tommy" you said before you leaned in again and started to slowly make out.

---

As Tom woke up, he though he would be dreaming, but then he remembered that it was all real. But what made him doubt was that the place next to him on the comfortable bed was empty.

Where is she?

Suddenly he heard noises coming from the kitchen. He just threw on some grey sweatpants before he made his way downstairs.

He couldn't belive his eyes when he saw you in his oversize shirt making breakfast. Slowly he made his way over to you and hugged you from behind while he rested his chin on your shoulder gently.

"Good morning darling" Tom said

"Mmm, morning tommy" you answered.

"Are you making breakfast for the two of us?" he asked with a tiny smirk.

You nodded with your head before the radio in the background played a beautiful song.

Who's loving you from Michael Jackson.

You suddenly gasped and said,

"Oh my God, I love this song!"

You put the breakfast on the plates and put the drinks on the table. But before you could sit down and eat, Tom took your hand and turned you towards him.

"Dance with me darling" he said quietly.

"o-okay" he put his hands on your waist while you threw your arms around his neck.

"Who's loving youuuuu" Tom sand quitely in your ear.

Suddenly he picked you up and put you on the counter.

"Who's loving you" you sang now.

Before Tom could stop himself he said,

"I love you"

"what?" you didn't heard properly, right?

"I love you y/n, I really do"

You just starred at him before you said,

"I love you too"

You started to give soft little pecks while the radio was still playing in the backround.

"Who's loving youuuuu" you both sang at the end of the song.

"I do" you and Tom said at the same time. You just looked him in the eyes and knew deep down,

that's my one, that's the man that I love.

-`ღ´- ᶫᵒᵛᵉᵧₒᵤ -`ღ´-

Taglist:

@goodgirlgonetom @majo240820 @misshale21 @itstaskeen @pure-ghost @justafangirlduh @elizabeth-brown @roseke @onyourgoddamnleft @lovelyxtom

#tom holland #tom holland fanfiction #tomholland x reader #tom holland x reader #tom holland fluff #fanfiction #fanfic #marvel #thank you

[god1ngs]

━‎ visitation

synopsis; a certain someone pays a visit

contains; major angst, arguing, one mention of vomit, swearing

day two + 1.6k wc

note; sorry this took so long! but here is day two :]

previous part ; seven days masterlist ; next part

   your rage fit from yesterday had calmed down, allowing you to be at peace once you awoke. the ache of your knuckles, red and scraped, had reminded you of it ─ the anger that coursed through your feelings, for not only your nation but yourself as well.

   the deal you made with dream hasn't, and won't, gone away. how you wished it was that easy. how you wished the contract would leave you alone. the nagging of his words, constantly on repeat in your head, made your everyday life harder and harder.

   knowing when you would die haunted you.

   it was the second day, you had noticed. you didn't want to get out of bed, didn't want to face the world that morning. however, life didn't quite work out in your favor. you sighed, dreading the hours that would follow once you got up.

   a banging at your door had been the push to get you out of bed. you frowned, almost ignoring the other before getting out of bed. you frowned, an anguishing weight being shoved on to your shoulders as you got up. you pushed open the door, revealing a familiar brunette.

   wilbur, who had been making his daily rounds around the crater that was his country, had decided to come check up on you. the state you were in yesterday had worried him, not allowing a peaceful night. he gave a small, yet weak all the time, smile. a hopeful flame ignited in the smile.

   "are you alright? i wanted to check on you." his thick british made you more hopeful of a greater future, one where you weren't threatened by the laws of the land. you have a sigh, nodding your head before apologizing for your outburst. wilbur, in his naturally good nature, waved you off with a smile.

   "don't worry about it, [name]. we all get mad sometimes. i'm just glad i found you before you hurt yourself more." the brunette said, placing a hand on your shoulder. wilbur was someone who always knew how to calm others down, someone who could pick a persons brain in a matter of moments.

   you leaned into the touch, one of the only comforting feelings you've had in days. dream's words came to your mind, making you shudder. wilbur, having noticed, spared you a glance. "are you cold?" he asked and, although you wanted to say no, you couldn't give any indication that you were scared.

   at your nod, wilbur stripped himself of his suit jacket, placing it over your shoulders. the man smiled at you, truly a gentleman. "it is a bit cold around here. you can keep my jacket until you find one for yourself, yeah?" he told you, giving your shoulder a gentle squeeze.

   wilbur had always been kind like that, gentlemanly in his own sweet ways. the brunette had always acted like this around you, giving you his jacket whenever you were cold or shooting you a smile whenever you were sad. he was like your rock in hard times.

   he was one of your most trusted friends, you could even say you would trust him with your life.

   you and wilbur talked more, although the conversation was mostly him. dream's words still haunted you. they replayed in your mind like a broken record, scratchy and out of tune, yet terrifying all the same. you weren't ready to face death yet.

   you weren't ready to die.

   you still had so much to live for.

   and yet, fate worked in cruel ways.

   wilbur had noticed how weird you were acting. he had always been observant, coming with his natural person and his role as president. you weren't there, off in a distant world doing god knows what. he wasn't the one to be nosy, but he was curious as to what was on your mind.

   the birds chirped their melodious tune, a peaceful melody to interrupt the dreadful silence.

   explosions cut through the silence. loud and abrupt, the explosives at the entrance of l'manberg, already blown up beyond recognition, exploded. people came rushing out of their homes, scared and confused and tired. the war was still taking its toll on them.

   always making the grand entrance, stood dream. his smiley face mask, chipped at the edges from years of wear and tear, stared back tauntingly at the citizens; it mocked their fear. he didn't say anything for a moment, only staring. waiting and watching for someboy else to make the first move.

   "for fucks sake, dream," shouted tommy, irritated. "what do you want now!? you already blew up l'manberg and now you're doin' it even more!" the tangent he was about to go on was interrupted by wilbur placing a hand on his shoulder, silencing him. wilbur stepped up, appearing to not be afraid of stepping up to dream.

   "what do you want dream?" he asked coldly, eyes of steel narrowed at the other man. dream only snickered, his smirk obvious. he only came to taunt you all, to shove his win in l'manbergs face. the face that l'manberg wasn't free overjoyed him.

   "oh nothing," dream said in a sing song tone. "just wanted to come by to see one your people, wilbur." wilbur hadn't known what to reply, the response from dream confusing him. he opened his mouth to speak, yet you couldn't hear or decipher his words.

   dread washed over you. it enveloped you in its cold embrace, smothering you while you begged for it to stop. you almost wanted to plead, to plead dream to leave you alone. you swallowed harshly, nervous as dream scanned the crowd ─ presumably for you.

   maybe you could leave. if you slipped out quickly, no one would notice. you could leave so easily, without interfering with what was happening. although it would be a cowardice move. you blinked back your fears as you stood there, silently hoping he wasn't there to see you.

   the universe didn't seem to hear your pleas.

   dream had came up to you, grinning and glowing with glee. "[name]!" he exclaimed, the sadistic undertone clear in his words. "how've you been?" you could only stand there in shock, all eyes on you. your next few moments depended on this, for you could lose your life within a few minutes.

   your lack of an answer clearly displeased him, his grip on your shoulder increasing. you winced, hissing underneath your breath. "i've been okay." you stammered meekly, reluctant in answering his question. he only smiled wider, letting go of your shoulder.

   "good, good! i came to remind you of our little deal. remember what my words were, okay?" your blood ran dry at his words, and so did everyone else's judging by their reactions. dream only turned, saying goodbye to the citizens of l'manberg and being on his way.

   all eyes were still on you when he left. they didn't leave you even as you crumpled in on yourself, grasping at whatever warm skin you could find. shouting began quickly. tommy was shouting, yelling at you for what deal you had made with dream.

   you could see wilbur's shocked face. disappointment shone on his features, his creased brow in confusion making you want to vomit. he stopped tommy yelling, although only a short amount of time before it began again, while walking up to you. "you made a deal with dream? the villain?"

   you couldn't speak even if you wanted to. words wouldn't make it past your throat, you almost clawed them out. you only choked on them, eyes wide and panic filled. you were scared of losing your friends, as well as your life.

   telling them about the deal would be going against him, right?

   you nearly started sobbing. the reminder that you were around people who expected you to be strong stopped the urge. you sniffled, opening and closing your mouth to speak yet no words making it past. wilbur's disappointment strengthened.

   "[name], tell me what deal you made with dream." the firmness of wilbur's voice had been one you hadn't heard directed at you before. to tommy, and sometimes tubbo, but never you before. you couldn't shake the feeling of dread that voice came with. he put a hand on your shoulder, and the familiar comfort didn't come with it this time.

   "i can't, wilbur..." you choked out, the fear of power from dream outweighing any of your friendships. you couldn't bear your death coming earlier, as well as your friends having to watch it. tears steamed down your face, lip quivering and eyes fluttering. wilbur showed no pity. he wasn't the kind man who had offered his jacket before.

   "i'm sorry, [name], but until you tell us what deal you made with dream, you can't be here anymore."

   the words taunted you. they laughed and mocked and jeered you while you sobbed. you could only look up at wilbur, stammering out words you don't even know made sense or not. he apologized again and, with that, escorted you out of l'manberg.

   you cried as you left.

   you had no where to go. your home was l'manberg, and now you had been escorted out by your friend of years. you didn't know where else to go except the lake. the lake you had met dream only days ago, your own pathetic relfection staring back at you. your eyes were red and puffy, a significant indication you had been bawling.

   footsteps approached you, and much like that night only days ago, there dream stood.

   you flinched as he sat next to you. he hummed, leaning back on his palms, grass blades tickling his fingers. he looked up at the sky, the twinkling night stars. you sniffled. he let out a sigh, one of content and pleasure.

   "this is going to be the worst week of your life, and i'll make sure of it."

   he would keep his promise.

taglist, (open)

━‎ ‎ ‎@paradigmax ; @pachowpachowbucket ; @acatstalkingyou ; @angelicaschuyler-church ; @saucey-kneecapzz42020 ; @piano-boo ; @i-need-hugs ; @strawbrinkofdeath ; @halloweenpoison13 ; @boiled-onionrings ; @feverish-dove ; @ahmya-4 ; @queenwastaken

#( ♡ ) + seven days #dream smp x reader #dream smp x you #dream smp x y/n #mcyt x reader #dream x reader #dream smp imagines #mcyts x reader #mcyts x you #mcyts imagines

[dailydaydreamings]

Best in the Worst Way, Part 11

I have way too much experience with this kind of trauma. One thing I know, the experience isn’t always linear. How you feel jumps from one moment to the next. Maybe this is my way of coping, but for some reason I need to get this all down. Lots of swearing —K

The Reader has been having a love affair with two Avengers and gets caught in a sticky situation. She’s suddenly faced with life decisions she’s not prepared for, including who to love, what she wants, and is this all worth it?

There’s something totally surreal about trauma.

There’s nothing like the feeling of getting a late night call to get to the hospital and fast. It is pure stomach dropping terror.

Realists would know what it means, rushing to the hospital to see their loved ones, potentially for the last time.

Driving to the compound, gnawing on your thumb, you start to wonder how many traumas there are. How many people a year get a call to hurry to the hospital to see their loved ones. Maybe for the last time.

Out of the those cases, how many people are too late? How many show up and their loved ones still die?

Fuck, how bad was it. You ran your hand through your hair as you sat at a stop light, tears streaming down your face.

How much of a liar was Tony? Would he lie and tell you that they were alive if they weren’t, just so you wouldn’t kill yourself driving over?

You wouldn’t have to rush if this light would fucking turn green.

There was no one around, it was nearly midnight...why wait?

You tapped your fingers on the wheel, maybe you weren’t on the sensor and the light would never turn green and Bucky and Steve would die waiting for you...what’s the harm?

Your foot shifted to the gas, cautiously accelerating.

A horn blares and you slam on the gas, barely avoiding an oncoming car.

You think you might have screamed, either way, you wer suddenly pulling your off the road and scrambling out.

You reached for your keys, your hand missing twice.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” you finally got hold of your keys and practically fell out of your car. From your knees, you reached for the door handle and pulled yourself up.

Your head swam as you leaned against the car and made your way to the passenger side. As soon as you were off the road, you tossed your keys into the field of grass in front of you.

And immediately regretted it.

“Oh, shit,” you leaned against the hood and stared out at the dark field.

You remembered a rule of dealing with trauma. Take a breath and get control of yourself.

Fact, you shouldn’t have been driving. You cradled your belly, where your children were kicking furiously. You weren’t thinking straight. You were thinking about your boys, not the babies inside of you.

And there was no way you were finding your keys tonight.

You pulled your phone out of your pocket and dialed Natasha, she answered on the first ring, “Where are you?! Is everything okay, you should be here by now!”

You closed your eyes, trying to take deep, calming breaths, “Can you please come get me? I’m fifteen minutes out from the compound, sitting on the side of the road. I just about crashed my car.”

Twenty minutes later, Natasha’s car pulled up behind yours and both Natasha and Clint hoped out. At this point, you were spiraling, your breath coming in short pants.

“Fucking Tony!” Natasha slammed her door. “I said, don’t let her drive. You can’t let her drive after telling her something like that!”

“Yelling at Tony isn’t going to solve anything!” Clint snapped at her. He came to stand in front of you, both hands grasping your shoulders. “Everything is going to be fine. Now, where are your keys?”

You pursed your lips, looking over his shoulder at the field. “I kinda...tossed them...”

Clint raised an eyebrow, his head jerking to look out at the long glass. “Oh. Okay. We’re all just gonna get in Natasha’s car. Then I’m gonna go get a metal detector and find your keys!”

You nodded, pushing off your car and stumbled, your head swimming.

“Alright, kiddo,” Clint wrapped an arm around your waste. “Let’s get you in the car.”

“What if they’re dead and Tony’s a liar?” You asked, stumbling as Clint guided you towards Natasha.

“Oh, no,” Natasha open the car door. “We talked to the field team. They’re stable, just a bit of a mess.”

You slid into the passenger seat, stroking your belly, trying to soothe yourself. Clint got into the backseat and Natasha got into the drivers seat.

“I keep thinking about all those silly medical shoes I watched in university, where there’s a trauma and they go from fine to dying in a minute and then the family doesn’t get there on time,” you murmur.

You weren’t sure either of them heard you until Natasha quietly answered, “I’ve seen that happen, in the field. It can happen, but right now, all signs point to them being stable and we will getting to the compound at the same time as they are.”

The light pollution started getting worse the closer you got the compound. For some reason, all you wanted to was run away.

“The babies kicked today for the first time,” you said numbly. “They’re gonna be here soon. I n-need to get a crib, and, um, a diaper bad. Other stuff too. I need to book, uh, birthing classes. Maternity clothes...”

Natasha exchanged a quick glance with Clint, “We can worry about all of that later. We’ll make a list!”

You frown and murmur, “I don’t know how to change a diaper.”

Clint squeezed your shoulder, “You’ll learn, it’s okay!”

You laugh dryly, “Buck was learning. Every spare minute. He was so excited to change diapers.”

“Okay, she’s gonna need something to calm her down,” You hear Clint mumbled to Natasha. You ignore him, choosing to curl up towards the window, watching a helicopter fly towards the compound. Your boys were up there.

———

Panic was surging through your veins, but you shook your head as you strode towards the medical wing.

“How bad is it,” you shout at Tony, trying your best to keep a level head.

He looked up at you from his phone, his hair a mess. “I don’t know,” he called back. “I just know they’re stable and we have two ORs prepped just in case.”

Your eyes focused on the door behind Tony, the boys would come through those door at any second. You came to stop beside him, fiddling with the dainty necklace you always wore.

“I fucking told you she shouldn’t drive,” Natasha hissed at Tony behind you.

You were vaguely aware of Tony throwing his hands in the air. “I just said—”

You turned at spat, “Not fucking helping.”

They exchanged a look, both turning to sit in the waiting chairs and you started to pace.

“I’m gonna kill them,” You say calmly, stroking your belly, your eyes constantly checking the elevator.

Natasha leaned over and whispered to Tony, “She’s gonna need a sedative.”

The elevator dinged and a gurney rolled out. You almost puked.

“What. The. Fuck!” You glared at Tony, who was already scrambling to his feet.

“No one said it was this bad!” He said.

You swallowed, hard, looking down at Steve. He was sedated, his face was bruised and battered, and he had a massive branch through his abdomen.

“It didn’t hit anything serious,” the nurse behind the gurney said. “We’re gonna go straight to the OR and get this taken care of right now.”

You couldn’t helps yourself as you looked down at his face, leaning forward and giving him a quick peck on his lips. “I’m sorry, I’m so so sorry, Steve.”

“Ma’am,” she said.

“You’re gonna be okay,” you said to him.

“Ma’am,” she insisted. “We have to go now.”

You stepped back, making a point of raising your hands in the air defensively.

You watched them until they turned down the next hallway.

Natasha came up and put her hand on your shoulder, “Are you okay? Do you need to cry?”

You looked up at the ceiling, counting the lights as you let out a long breath, “Not yet.” Not until you saw Bucky. Pregnant or not, hormonal or not, he was not going to see you cry.

The elevator dinged again and chaos erupted.

It happened so fast, Natasha grabbed you and pulled you away from the door. Tony was yelling. So was Bucky.

He was thrashing wildly, despite the restraints.

“Head trauma,” the nurse wheeling the gurney already had a bruise forming on his cheek.

“Buck!” You shouted. He roared in anger and you flattened yourself against the wall.

And he was gone, down the hall.

Natasha looked down at you as you slowly started sliding down the wall.

They weren’t okay. No matter what Tony had said, that wasn’t okay. Steve had a fucking tree through his stomach and Bucky, poor Bucky was stuck in his own head. His most feared prison. This wasn’t going to be like taking the home tomorrow and putting a bandaid over a scratch, this was far, far worse.

“What do you need?” She asked, kneeling in front of you.

“A change of clothes,” you said numbly.

She rubbed your thigh, “Okay, I’ll call Clint to stop by your place, okay?”

You nodded, “Can you ask him to grab my black bag on the stool by the breakfast bar? It has, it has my meds.”

“Of course.”

“And t-there’s this god awful, ugly b-brown blanket on the bed. It’s Bucky’s.” Your voice started to waiver, tears welling in your eyes. “It totally ruins the aesthetic of the room.”

She grasped your hand and you wiped your tears. “I’m sure it does.”

“And, there’s one blue pillow on the bed. The pillow case is blue. Steve sleeps with it every night.”

And the flood gates opened and you started to cry.

———

“The surgery went better than expected,” the surgeon told you.

You wiped a stray tear from your face. “It-it did?” You hiccuped.

“Absolutely it did,” she gave you a warm smile. “And with his DNA, he’s gonna be just fine and walking around in no time.”

You nodded, “Thank you.” Your voice broke and she gave your shoulder a squeeze. “I’m not normally a m-mess. I’m just pregnant.”

She laughed, “It’s okay, I can tell. He’s gonna need some support, but remember to take care of yourself, okay?”

You nodded, “Can I see him?”

“Of course, this way,” she directed you to walk down the hallway.

Your heart almost stopped when you saw him. He looked massive in that bed. He didn’t really fit, it didn’t look right to see Captain America in a hospital bed. Monitors beeped steadily at his side, the only real proof to you he was alive.

You hugged his lumpy pillow to you left chest. It still smelled like him.

You stared at the monitor, counting the insistent beeping, making sure he was still breathing...

“Is that for him,” a nurse said, rubbing hand sanitizer on her hands as she came in. You were still standing in the door way, starring, twenty minutes later.

“Um, yeah,” you answered, shaking your head to get out of whatever spell the monitor had put you under. “Can you...”

She smiled at you warmly, “Of course, hon.” She gently took the pillow from you, breaking the spell.

You stumbled forward, sitting down in the chair beside his bed.

“You can hold his hand,” she said, readjusting his pillows.

“We haven’t been in a good place,” you admitted, “for months. He wanted me to get an abortion and then he didn’t and I just, I pushed him away. I don’t know if he’d want me here but I-I can’t not be here.”

The nurse paused, coming to sit down in the chair opposite to you. “He’s going to want you to be here when you wake up. No matter what happened, he’s going to want you by his side.”

You looked down at your hands, playing with your fingers. “I don’t know what to say to him. Because I’m still mad, honestly. I want to kick his ass.”

She laughed and so did you, wiping a tear from your face.

The nurse cleared her throat, “It isn’t my place, but you don’t have to forgive him. But you’re going to end up throwing everything away if you’re not here when he wakes up.”

You nodded your thanks, reaching over and taking Steve’s hand.

———

“Y/n?” Steve voice woke you from your sleep on the cot beside his bed, you scrambled for the light before reaching for his hand.

His deep blue eyes looked up at you with so much pain and confusion.

“What do you need?” You asked, cupping his face. “Are you in pain?”

He shook his head, trying hard to swallow. You reached for a cup of water, knowing his throat probably felt like sandpaper after intubation.

“Where’s Bucky?” He asked.

You looked up at his monitors to avoid his eye, “They won’t let me see him. The meds aren’t working, he’s in a fury. They said that they’re giving him medication to calm him down, sedating him, and they’re going to try to wake him up soon.”

Steve’s grip on your hand tightened. “You should be with him.”

You leaned down and kissed his forehead, “This fight between us is no where close to over but you are still a big part of my life and I love you. I need to be here for both my boys and he will need me soon.”

There were tears in his eyes. “I’m sorry, for everything. Bucky and I had a fight about it and, I’m not ready for everyone to know about the three of us.”

You nodded, understanding his fear.

“But,” he continued, “I don’t want to be the uncle. I want to be the dad. So, I’m here and I want to be here, for both of you.”

A tear dripped down your face, you leaned forward and brought your lips to his.

“Mrs y/l/n,” a man cleared his throat at the door. You turned to see some poor intern wringing his hands at the sight of Captain America.

“Yes?” You asked.

He broke his stare with Steve and said, “I’ve been asked to inform you they’re waking up Mr Barnes and you said you wanted to be there.”

You exchanged a look with Steve. He squeezed your hand and you walked to your bag in the corner, pulling out Bucky’s blanket.

Steve asked quietly, “Will you see if Bucky can be transferred into the same room soon? That way she doesn’t need to go in between our rooms.”

You raised an eyebrow in surprise, but the intern nodded and scurried off.

You gave Steve’s hand one more squeeze, “I’ll be back soon.”

You walked down the hall until you found the room where they were administering some medication to wake Bucky up. Your mouth went dry, he was still restrained.

“Can we get some of these restraints off,” you asked coolly, striding into the room and sitting beside the bed, the blanket in your lap. “He’s not an animal.”

“Mr Barnes is prone to violence following sedation,” the doctor tells you. You grit your teeth at that but let it go. “This could take some time, someone will be just outside if he acts out.”

You didn’t bother to point out that they had him chained down and he couldn’t right now.

Instead, you played with a frayed edge of the blanket. Steve adoringly called it Bucky’s baby blanket. It obviously wasn’t, but it was the blanket he’d slept with since living in Bucharest, it was with him in Wakanda, and he slept with it every night since.

At this point, it was more patch ups than blanket though. When the boys had moved in, the only thing Bucky brought was this ugly blanket full of holes. Trying, in vain, to make it look better to preserve the feel of your room, you learned to patch it up. It was now an assortment of browns and fabrics, but it didn’t seem to change the spirit of the blanket.

“Hey,” Bucky said. You looked up to find him looking at you, a frown on his face. “Did I hurt anyone?” He asked.

“No,” you lie. “You were just a little, um, enraged. You had some head trauma.”

He nodded, “Can I get out of these things?” He moved the restraints for emphasis.

You nodded, calling out to the nurse outside the room. He came in, and after assessing Bucky, removed the restraints.

“How’s Steve?” Bucky asked.

“He’s okay,” you answer. “He had tree go through his stomach but he’ll be fine.”

Bucky nodded, not bothering to sit up. But he ran his hand through his hair. He turned his head to look at you, his eyes focusing on the blanket.

“Is that my blanket?” He asked, raising an eyebrow.

You nodded, “I thought you might want something to give you some comfort. Do you want it?”

His eyes crinkled from a small smile. “Yes, thank you.”

You stood, unfolding the blanket and spreading it over him. You looked up at him to see if he was satisfied, but Bucky was staring at your belly.

“Buck?” You asked.

“You’ve gotten...bigger,” he murmured.

You sat down on the edge of the bed, stroking a hand down your belly. “Yeah, and they’ve been kicking up a storm, would you believe it?”

He frowned, “I didn’t realize you were sleeping with anyone.”

Your blood ran cold.

Tags

@booktease21 @sexyvixen7 @just-the-hiddles @fading-mentality-bouquet @a--1--1--3 @broco8 @yougottalovefandoms @hailqueenconquer @tazzi-baby @imaginebeinlovedbyme @amiets2 @prettyblueskylark

#steve x pregnant!reader #bucky x steve x reader #steve x reader #bucky x pregnant!reader #buck x reader #stucky x pregnant!reader #stucky x reader #stucky

[radiantroope]

Into the Wild || JJ Maybank

Chapter One: Denial

pairing: jj x reader

mentions: pope, kie, john b, sarah

summary: the pogues are going on their annual camping trip before the fall semester starts. tension between you and jj boils over, walking the fine line between just friends and something more. you wonder if the two of you can make it out of this.

warnings: underage drinking, drug use (marijuana), swearing, smut in future parts

author’s note: this is going to be a multi-part smut series! i love camping and felt compelled to write this. inspired by @storiesbymads and @ptersparkers with their series study sessions. please let me know what you all think of this, feedback is what keeps me going! love you.

masterlist || add yourself to my tag list

It was tradition since you were seventeen. A yearly camping trip with all of the Pogues. You’d travel off Kildare Island and into the wilderness of some random town in North Carolina. The destination every year was never the same. Everyone was twenty now, aside from you, having just turned twenty-one. This gave you the opportunity to buy a surplus of alcohol for the trip instead of scrounging up what you could find when you were underage.

The old Volkswagen bounced along the old country roads as John B pushed it to its limits. You were surprised it even still ran. Under the hood was a mess of duct tape and the fuel gauge wasn’t exactly accurate. The brunette boy had the funds now to get a new vehicle and you wondered why he hadn’t. Maybe it was the fact that the old hunk of junk held so many memories.

Your eyes shot open as John B pulled the van to an abrupt halt, body lurching forward. You huffed and rubbed the back of your neck as it tensed. You scolded your friend, “Jesus, JB. Next time ease up on the breaks.”

The Routledge boy simply scoffed in response and opened his door to climb out. Pope slid the back door open and you clambered out, Kiara and JJ following quickly after. You stretched your arms over your head then bent down to touch your toes, stretching out your aching back.

“Oh God, it’s never felt so good to stand,” JJ practically moaned as he twisted his back and cracked his spine.

“Disgusting,” Kiara muttered while pulling a face, walking around to help Pope and John B untie the camping gear from the top of the van.

Sarah reached into the back of the old car and started to get out everyone’s duffel bags. The blonde had thankfully learned her lesson when they were young when she brought two suit cases on her first trip with them. You teased her about it for the rest of the year and she swore you all were never going to let her live it down.

You attempted to drag the two large coolers to the door, grunting at the strenuous effort it was taking. One of them was full of food and the other of beer and water. JJ stood, leaning against the van puffing on his vape as he watched you with an amused expression. Finally you huffed and turned to the golden haired boy with a glare.

“Are you gonna help me or?” you trailed off, putting your hands on your hips.

He rolled his eyes and tucked his Juul back in his pocket before climbing over the coolers and standing behind them. He helped drop the cooler down on the grass, waiting until you slid it back to help with the other. The two of you dragged the large boxed containers over to where Sarah assembled rocks for the fire.

John B, Pope and Kiara were picking spots for the tents, making sure there was generous space between them for obvious reasons. Kie and Pope would be sharing one tent, Sarah and John B in another — leaving the only non-couple — you and JJ in the other. Said blonde boy walked over to take over setting up your little home for the next week after watching you struggle with the sticks.

“How many times have we been camping and you still can’t pitch a tent?” JJ teased as he skillfully put it together, glancing up at you with a small smirk.

You rolled your eyes and walked over to the drink cooler, pulling out your drink of choice, Mango White Claw. “I’m a small girl with tiny hands, okay. Me and tents don’t get along,” you defended yourself, watching over the others as they also got their tents put up.

“I’ve got a tent you’d get along with,” JJ remarked cockily, shooting you a wink when your head snapped to look at him.

That was the relationship you and JJ had since you were fifteen. Some would call it pining. He made sexual innuendos towards you and used his best worst pickup lines. There was an undeniable sexual tension between the two of you that everyone could feel. Though, you had this unspoken rule that the two of you would never cross the imaginary line between best friends and something more.

When Kie and Pope got together after John B’s disappearance all those years ago, the Pogues nearly fell apart. There was weird tension between the Heyward boy and JJ since the latter had been crushing on her for years — thank God he got over it a year later. Kiara and Pope had an on-off relationship for a while. When they were on, things were great aside from a few arguments here and there. But when they were off, there was a divide, and you all felt as though you had to pick sides and make time to spend with them both separately. When Pope went off to college, it solidified their relationship. Distance makes the heart grow fonder, you supposed.

Seeing the trials and tribulations of Kie and Pope’s relationship made you swear to yourself to never go there with JJ, no matter how badly you wanted to. Little did you know, the Maybank boy shared the same desires. He tried to drown it out with pussy and booze for a long time. He would get a girlfriend who had the same eye color as you or shared your mannerisms, hoping it would help him get over it. Yet it never did and they only lasted a week or two max. JJ had come to accept the fact that it was always going to be you and he would probably never find true happiness. You’d get married and start a family with someone else and he’d be forced to sit on the sidelines and watch. He spent many sleepless nights thinking about it.

“Just finish the damn tent,” you grumbled as you took a sip from your can and walked to Sarah who called for your help collecting firewood.

It was already fairly late in the day so once everything was situated at your campsite, you all decided to save your adventures for tomorrow. The fire was going and camp chairs for the six of you were circled around it. Pope and John B were fully focused on preparing hot dogs. They’d get one finished and hand it off to JJ to bun it and place whatever toppings were wanted on it.

“Y/N, you want anything on your dog?” JJ asked as he bent over the cooler, looking at you through the locks of hair that fell in his face.

“Just ketchup please,” you replied and pulled a Coors out of the cooler behind you.

JJ strutted over with the paper plate and bowed in front of you as he held it out. He gave you a cheeky smile and in a horrible English accent said, “For you, m’lady.”

“Why thank you, kind sir!” you replied in an accent just as bad, taking the plate from his hands carefully. You held up the can of beer and grinned, “And for you.”

If there was a physical embodiment of heart eyes, it was JJ in that moment. He placed a hand over his heart and took the can, rough fingers grazing your own. He bent down and placed a quick kiss to your cheek then walked back towards John B and Pope, but not before calling over his shoulder, “Love you!”

You shook your head and let out a soft laugh, turning your attention to your food. You missed the look Kie and Sarah shared, knowing smiles on their faces. The two looked over at JJ who hadn’t stopped smiling since your minuscule interaction. He looked almost like the same giddy sixteen year old boy they all knew and loved.

A while later, after many more beers and delicious s’mores, everyone headed to bed. Shared good nights were called between everyone as they retreated to their tents. You had already slipped in yours, changing into your pajamas before JJ barged in. By the time he stumbled through the small opening, you were already curled up in your sleeping bag. Your hair was tied up in a messy bun that pressed up against the pillow.

JJ kicked off his boots and pulled his shirt over his head. Your eyes flickered down to his toned abdomen for a moment before you turned over and closed your eyes. Ogling at your best friend would only make sleeping that much harder. You heard him rezip the tent and climb into his own sleeping bag that was only inches from yours. The two of you muttered drunken, sleepy goodnights before drifting off into dreamland.

You jumped awake in the early hours of the morning when the wind blew against the tent. You sighed softly and rested your head back against the pillow, breathing deeply to steady your rapidly beating heart. You reached for your phone and the time read 4:13 AM. You’d all sauntered to bed around one meaning you got roughly three hours of sleep. It was usually like that the first few nights of camping for you. The unease of sleeping vulnerably in the wilderness made you sleep extra lightly.

You sat up and glanced over at JJ whose face was barely illuminated by the moonlight shining through the mesh. His lips were parted slightly as soft snores and heavy breaths left his mouth. You cracked a smile seeing him like that, suddenly thankful he wasn’t a loud snorer like John B who you could hear from across your campground. You wondered how Sarah could stand sleeping next to someone like that.

As silently as you could, you crawled forward and slipped on your old Vans then unzipped the tent and slipped out. You closed it back and paused for a second to make sure you didn’t wake JJ. When you didn’t hear any rustling, you made your way over to the fire, that was now burnt branches and gray ash. You pulled the coolers next to each other longways then laid down on top of them.

One thing you cherished about the camping trips was the stargazing you were able to do. You couldn’t get a view like that back home, even in The Cut. The view was indescribable. You could see the satellites that orbited around the Earth, floating slowly through the atmosphere. You could lay there for hours, lost in thought as you gazed into the universe.

JJ awoke a short time later, almost as if he could sense you were no longer next to him. He rubbed his eyes with the heel of his palm and reached his free hand out to feel for your warm body. He was met with the cold material of your sleeping bag. He was still disoriented as he sat up and squinted into the dark tent, searching for his shoes to see where you’d gone off to.

The sound of JJ’s footsteps nearing where you laid startled you, not hearing your tent unzip or the still slightly drunk boy stumble out. His eyes were glazed over and he had a dazed look on his face as he wandered over, shirtless and in the same shorts he fell asleep in. The dirty black boots scuffed against the Earth with each of his heavy steps.

“What’re you doin’?” his groggy voice asked, an octave or two deeper than usual.

“Woke up ‘n couldn’t go back to sleep,” you responded, sitting up when he patted your thigh. You straddled the cooler and JJ did the same, right in front of you. His knees brushed against yours as he ran a hand through his disheveled hair.

You watched as his hooded eyes glanced around the campsite before falling on you. You had tilted your head back to look at the stars again. The moonlight illuminated your face in a way that mesmerized him. He could see the stars reflecting in your eyes, eyelashes brushing flawless cheeks with each slow blink.

JJ took the opportunity to pull you closer, hands going under your knees and pulling until your legs were draped over his own. You let out a gasp at the sudden movement. You barely had time to react as he wrapped his arms around your waist and buried his face in the crook of your neck. His tangled waves tickled your jaw as it blew in the breeze. You smiled slightly and brought one hand up to the back of head, fingers gently combing through his soft locks at the base of his neck.

Goosebumps rose over his tanned back as the fingers of your other hand gently trailed up and down his bicep. He resisted the urge to place kisses on your neck, knowing he’d be shot down and quite liked the current position you were in. Which wasn’t unusual for the two of you. JJ was touch starved and found every chance he could to hug on you or cuddle you. You never complained, liking the feeling of his warm body securing you in an embrace. You’d never met someone who made you feel as safe as JJ did when they held you.

“You falling asleep on me, Maybank?” you whispered teasingly at the feeling of his breath evening out against your collarbone.

You received a hum in response, his nose brushing your throat as he shifted his head.

“Let’s go back to bed,” you suggested, leaning back to get a look at the boy’s face.

JJ pulled himself back to sit upright, jutting his perfectly pink bottom lip out in a pout. He shook his head and his hands slid down to your thighs to squeeze them slightly. You were made painfully aware of the skimpy sleep shorts you were wearing and a heat rose to your face. You practically lived in a bikini but something about JJ seeing you like this made you shy.

“I wanna stay here with you,” he muttered, cerulean eyes flickering between your own.

Maybe it was the lack of sleep or the alcohol still coursing through your veins, but in that moment you were finding it hard to ignore how badly you wanted to feel his lips against yours. Your close proximity allowed you to admire every feature on JJ’s face. From the scar above his left eyebrow from his father to the tiny freckles most people never noticed on his cheeks. You threw everything out the window.

The hand you had on JJ’s bicep slid up past his shoulder and onto the side of his neck, thumb stroking the stubble lining his jaw. He squeezed your thighs again in response. His heart was hammering in his chest at the idea of what was coming. He would never initiate it though, leaving the ball in your court. His intense gaze never left yours until your eyes drifted down to his lips and up again.

The corners of JJ’s lips twitched up as he watched your tongue glide across your bottom lip. He barely registered that you were leaning in until he felt your breath against his chin. He sat there, still as a statue as your plump lips brushed against his own. He half expected you to pull away and come up with some way to brush off what was happening, though he was pleasantly surprised when you instead locked your lips on his.

JJ kissed you back, of course, he’d be an idiot not to. One of your hands found purchase in the hair at the back of his head while the other gripped his waist. Your head tilted, intensifying the kiss as your lips worked in synchronized motions. One of his large hands left your thigh and cupped the back of your neck, applying gentle pressure to deepen the kiss.

The both of you were on cloud nine, riding a high you just couldn’t achieve through drugs and alcohol. It was something the shared kisses between you always did. This wasn’t the first time this had happened. Throughout the years the two of you had shared many kisses, some drunken spur of the moment kisses, others completely sober ones that you just couldn’t resist. You tried to keep yourself from doing it, knowing you were only hurting him in the long run and giving him a sense of false hope. Tonight he just looked so irresistible you had to seize the opportunity.

Your tongue swiped against his bottom lip, feeling his grip on your neck tighten. He allowed your tongue to slip into his mouth, mingling with his own. His other hand left your thigh and pressed against your lower back. He pulled you forward until your chests were pressed together and you were seated on his lap. His sharp teeth pulled at your bottom lip, quickly soothing the pink flesh with his tongue.

JJ’s lips left yours, trailing kisses down your jaw and onto your neck under your ear. You were in a daze. Your fingers gripped his hair and felt along his chest as a sigh left your lips. His hands wandered over the tank top on your back, continuing to leave wet, open mouthed kisses on your skin.

As you felt him pull the strap of your tank top down, lips beginning to suck at the bare skin of your shoulder, you were brought back to Earth. Your breathing picked up and gripped his shoulders to push him back, muttering, “J.. JJ, stop.”

The Maybank boy pulled away quickly, hands moving to hold your wrists as you now cupped his face. He stared at you and watched as many different emotions flickered in your eyes — none of which he could pinpoint. Here we go again. She’s gonna shut me down and pretend this never happened, he couldn’t help but think to himself. His chest tightened as he prepared for the softened blow you were about to give him.

You glanced behind to the other tents and both of you heard John B stop snoring for a solid thirty seconds before it started again. You looked back up at JJ felt your heart leap at the soft smile he gave you, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. How could you sit there and ignore the butterflies fluttering in your stomach after that kiss? How could you keep lying to yourself and say you didn’t want him? You couldn’t.

“Not here, not like this,” you murmured, leaning forward and resting your forehead against JJ’s.

He let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding and let his eyes flutter shut. He nodded the tiniest bit against your head and placed a small kiss on your nose. His heart rate picked up at the fact that you hadn’t totally fucked him off. He thought maybe, just maybe, you were finally coming around and sharing the same feelings he did.

But you thought JJ just wanted to fool around with you, a fun and risky friends with benefits thing. You had no idea he was painfully in love with you. And shit was about to get complicated.

tag list: @scandalousfemale @drewswannabegirl @ilovejjmaybank @pheyward @allielozoya @x-lulu @teenwaywardasgardian @wtfstarkey @queenk00k @letsgofullkook @sortagaysortahigh @jjmaybcnks @jjmbanks @ims0golden @jjsmentalpolaroids @oldschoolimagineblog @80s-outsiders @kaitieskidmore1 @starlightstarkey @sickofbitches  strike through means i couldn’t tag you; please let me know if you’d like to be removed

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[snaileer]

Chips & Salsa, Chp 8

Keith had decided that Altean medical beds were the worst thing to curse the universe since the discontinuation of 2-in-1 hair products.

At least he definitely thought so from the last 30 minutes he’d spent sitting on one. Coran was still looking for the right salve or something for his bruises. He’d tried to get out of it but Shiro had stared him down all the way from the armory to the Medbay.

Even Keith wasn’t immune to ‘The Look.’

“Aha!” Coran jumped in triumph, holding up a small container like treasure, “I found it!”

Keith tried to get off the bed again, “I told you, Coran, I don’t need any treatment or-”

“Sit.” Shiro rumbled.

“But I-”

“Sit, Keith.” Shiro glared back. Keith would never admit that he pouted as he settled back on the medical bed, it was only a little childish spitefulness. His brother sighed again, “I know you hate doctors but it is only by the grace of god your nose isn’t broken. He almost-”

“Actually, his face is mostly unharmed.” Coran piped in as he got closer. Shiro raised an eyebrow in confusion as the Altean started applying the cream to Keith. “Yes, Lance certainly did a number on him, but there is a degree of restraint. His nose is bruised, a little bloody sure; but it wasn’t hit with anywhere near enough force to break it.”

Keith winced at a bloom of pain on his jaw and growled, “Then why does it hurt so much?”

Coran scoffed and moved to collect more salve as he mumbled, “Probably because I chose the one without pain relievers in it.”

“Coran…” Shiro gave him a stern look, but Coran shrugged it off and kept applying the cream.

“What? I’m not team leader, I have no problems showing favorites,” He said incredulously, “And besides, restraint doesn't mean he didn't hit hard. He just avoided your important bits, y’know, eyes and such. Could be much worse. In fact, this one time Alfor and I had a nasty run-in with some street thugs on a Gaali planet. Nearly ripped my ear off those fuc-”

“Not the time, Coran.” Shiro stepped in, handing Keith his jacket as he hopped down from the bed. “Keith, you need to talk to Lance.”

“What!? He hit me!”

“I don't want to hear who started it Keith,” Shiro followed him out of the room, “You and Lance have always been at each other’s throats, but this is different.”

“It really isn’t, Shiro.”

“Yes, it is. We both know that Lance wouldn’t have commented on your scoff, wouldn’t have taken it that far.”

“Yeah, obviously, I got that. So, what? You want me to just shut up? Stop talking to him?”

“No.” Shiro sighed, “We don’t need to be walking on eggshells around him, god no; but we still have to recognize that he’s gone through something traumatic. Is still going through it.”

“So did you Shiro. And he took advantage of your sympathy. I’m not going to give him mine, because clearly, he only cares about himself.” His voice grew in agitation.

“That’s not true, Keith, and you know it.” Shiro said, trying to convince Keith to just stop being so stubborn.

“Then why can’t he act like it!”

Shiro looked back over his shoulder, then over the other.

“What the hell are you doing, Shiro!?” Keith shouted. He was sick of his brother always-

Shiro crossed his arms and glared down at Keith, “I’m trying to find who you think you’re yelling at, because I know for damn sure it’s not me.” 

Keith growled and grit his teeth, “I’m not up for your stupid-”

“Try again.”

“I don’t-”

“No.”

“What do you mean ‘no’? I was trying to-” Keith threw his hands in the air at Shiro. Shiro and all his stupid vagueness.

“I mean, no. You don’t get to write him off this quickly. I want you to give him a chance.”

“I already did!”

“Then give him another one.”

“Why!?” Keith shot back.

“Because he deserves it,” Shiro answered, his words solemn enough to shut Keith’s mouth with a snap. “Don’t you think, that after everything, everything we’ve been through, everything he went through, everything he went through for us.. don’t you think he deserves another chance? Don’t you think he deserves a few chances?”

“But I- But he- We can’t just-” Keith shuffled through refusals, but each one fell short. 

“I’ve been where he is, Keith. And it isn’t as easy as ‘go back to normal.’ Surviving that… it takes everything.” Shiro took a deep breath to steady himself, “You can’t afford to be kind, or caring, or selfless. And even when every, single, part of you rushes to save somebody,” He paused and made eye contact again, “You have to push it down.”

Keith stood silently for a moment, looking back at Shiro. Sorrow, guilt, regret washed over his face because he hadn’t been able to save Shiro.

Not just Shiro, his brain reminded him. 

Keith shifted his eyes away, staring at his shoes. “Is it really going to be that hard to get him back?” He said softly, the air fragile.

“We still have to try.” 

Keith twitched his lips back and forth, clenching and unclenching his jaw. Rolling the debate over his tongue. He hated to back down from an argument.

“So?...” Shiro questioned, raising an eyebrow and leaning back on his hip. Keith sighed dramatically.

“Fine.” He threw his hands up for good measure, “I’ll give him another chance.”

“Finally! God, I thought I was gonna have to bribe you or something.” Shiro dropped his arms from his chest in exasperation, “I swear, for how much you two care about each other, it’s ridiculously hard to get you to just talk.”

“What?”

Now it was Shiro’s turn to sigh, “Nothing. Just… trying to get this team to function is like pulling teeth. And I very specifically refused my parent’s desire for me to become a dentist.”

Keith gave a breathless laugh, “Ha!” He looked Shiro up and down, “Like you’re any better.”

An affronted look grew across Shiro’s face, “I’m not-” 

Keith took that moment to dash down the hall, away from any more lectures.

“I’m not that bad!... And apologize to Lance!” Shiro shouted out after his rapidly disappearing shape. Keith threw back a rushed ‘will do!’ as he made his escape.

Shiro stood in the hallway, unmoving for a second. Thinking.

“Oh! Number one, you’re still here,” Coran walked out from around a corner, “Did you need something? Why are you just standing in the middle of the hall?”

“No reason…” Shiro paused, “I think I’m just now understanding why my grandmother got paid so much to be a matchmaker.” He stared off into the distance; his face the picture of resignation.

“Ah! A noble profession indeed! Y’know, one could say that I’m responsible for Alfor and Melenor getting together. Pah! The kingdom would have fallen without me!”

Shiro resisted the sudden urge to remind him that it did.

Instead, he listened to Coran regale him with tales of how he saved the castle (“more than once, might I add”), while they walked, side-by-side, through the corridors.

-x-x-x-

Lance ran his hands across the grass. Trying to pick out each blade of green beneath his fingers. He couldn’t.

It made sense, honestly. In a weird sort of way. Same reason the clouds never moved across the picturesque blue sky. Same reason that though he could see the wind shift the grass, he couldn’t feel any breeze on his skin.

It was fake. A hologram. The wonders of alien technology to create a world that seemed so real and yet-

Wetness dripped onto his cheek. 

Lance squeezed his eyes closed tighter and tried to ignore it. To relish in the momentary sense of peace. 

The peace that always came after a fight. As petty as it’d been, his fight with Keith had helped. He needed it; to fight, to fight without restraints or routine practice. Just to fight, to grapple for the right to exist like he had in the-

Something blocked the light in front of him, casting a shadow over his face. He peeked open an eyelid… Just in time to see a blob of saliva dangling right above his eye.

“Kaltenecker!” Lance flung himself out of the cow’s drool range. He groaned, awkwardly rubbing his cheek against his shoulder in a desperate attempt to wipe it off.

“That’s so disgusting!”

“Mooooo,” Kaltnecker glanced up with half-lidded eyes as she continued to eat at the spot where he was just laying.

“I can’t believe you’d betray me like this! Oh, the pain!” Lance put his hand to his forehead dramatically, “How ever will I go on?!” 

Kaltnecker, seemingly unbothered by him, continued chewing. Lance tried to sneak a glimpse at her without breaking character, disappointed to see her lack of reaction.

“Oh, tough crowd, huh?” 

She turned to the side, flicking her tail at him dismissively.

“I bet…” he paused and got to his feet, “THIS’LL change your mind!” Lance jumped at her, aiming for surprise, “Raahhh! Oof.” He hit her side like a brick wall, Kaltnecker sparing him no more than a look.

“I think I’d forgotten how hard it is to mess with cows.” He narrowed his eyes at her, then shrugged and smirked, “Oh, well.. Guess I’ll just have too....” Lance took a couple steps away, before turning back, “Lay on you instead! Ah-Ha!” He leapt onto the cow’s back like a starfish, searching for enough grip to stay attached.

He leaned his head down to her eye-level, “Still nothing, huh girl?” She blinked at him, smacked her lips, …. And then kept chewing.

“Lance?” Both cow and paladin’s heads shot upright at the voice. Hunk stood in the doorway with a bucket and a weird container next to him.

Kaltenecker found this infinitely more exciting than Lance’s efforts at bothering her and a loud ‘MOOO’ came from below Lance. 

Uh oh.

Kaltenecker galloped for the door, suddenly full of energy, hauling Lance along with her as he held on for dear life.

She finally stopped in front of Hunk’s feet, pausing for a moment until-

“Hoe, don't do it-” Lance scrambled to get off her in time, but failed as she plopped down on top of him. Sitting like a dog. 

Lance groaned at the sudden weight, resigned to trying to keep her tail from slapping him in the face.

“Hey there big girl! Excited to see me?” Hunk’s words only served to make her tail slap harder. Lance struggled to lean around her enough to see what he was doing.

Hunk pulled a package of some type of ‘alien-hay-feed’ out of the container at his feet. Hefting it into his arms, he carried it over to the small stall they had for the cow, Kaltenecker following behind him dutifully. Finally releasing Lance.

“Are we sure you’re not giving her too much of that stuff?” Lance groaned and rubbed his sides.

“Nah, Pidge calculated the perfect amount, I just don't think you're supposed to have cows sitting on you.” Hunk waved him off as he emptied the food into the trough. Hunk perked up like he’d remembered something, “Oh! Pidge! I promised her I’d help fix the glitches in the-” 

“Then go, I’m sure Kaltenecker will be fine,” Lance assured him as he got closer.

Hunk glanced from the cow, to Lance, to the bucket he left by the door, “But I have to-” 

Lance followed his line of sight, “Oh! I can do it buddy! Just go do your computer thing,” He smiled at him and went to grab the bucket.

“Are you sure? ‘Cuz I can stay if-” Hunk’s hands started fidgeting as he crumpled up the feed package and came closer.

“Gooo. I’ve done this before! Or did you forget who taught you?” Lance got behind him and playfully started urging him out of the room.

“Who? Your Uncle Leo?” Hunk said as he dug his heels in.

“No, me!” 

“I think I distinctly remember Leo teaching-” Hunk caught Lance’s eyes, joking glare and all, “Fine. Fine, I’ll go. But I’m making ice cream for dessert so make sure to bring the milk by the kitchen so you can help before dinner.” Hunk smiled back at his friend as he was pushed out of the room. It was nice to have someone take over with Kaltenecker, he was finally free to work on stuff with Pidge like he’d been putting off.

Behind the doors, Lance picked up the bucket and faced Kaltenecker with determination. 

“Now you have to pay attention to me, pretty girl.”

-x-x-x-

By the time Lance had finally, finally gotten Kaltenecker to cooperate enough for him to milk her, he’d already wasted half an hour.

So he had absolutely no qualms about leaving her alone in her ‘pasture’, and he was definitely not sulking.

Still, the whole process satisfied something in him. Something about the actions just brought him back to his childhood trips to Uncle Leo’s dairy farm.

And yeah, they were in space, not south eastern Cuba. And yeah, the cow they had was definitely genetically or hormonally modified by aliens to keep producing milk.

But it is what it is. And Lance would take what bits of home he could get.

Home.

A surge of homesickness rattled through him. It ached. A bone deep ache that he hadn’t paid attention to in so long and-

It was quickly pushed out by ringing.

Right. That.

Lance pulled his mind away from thoughts of his family, of any happiness he used to have. It was all gone for him now, and the ringing seemed to hate any happiness he even tried to scrounge together for himself.

Something clicked. If the ringing grew every time Lance thought about his family, or his home or-

Ow. 

With the Galra, when he’d thought the ringing was self-inflicted, that it was his punishment; it’d made sense for his happiness to make it worse. Why should he get to be happy, when he’d taken that from somebody else? Why should he get to keep his family? When he’d ripped someone away from theirs, permanently.

And he’d thought hearing the screams of his opponents, his fights, his kills, his victims was fair. Justified. Why should he get any peace when he’d taken any chance of it for them?

No.

This wasn’t on him. Yes, he deserved the guilt he felt. And yes, one day, he’d see retribution for his actions, but that wasn’t what this was.

This was Haggar.

Haggar trying to rid him of his memories. Of his home, his family. Of his team. Haggar trying to rid him of his hope.

Rid him of weakness, a voice whispered, No weaknesses, nothing to chance.

The memory of that phrase made him grit his teeth. 

Haggar was such a bitch when she was being condescending.

Lance took a break from his thoughts to peek his head into the kitchen. Still empty, thank god.

He loved Hunk, he really did, but there was no way he was sitting through another awkward team meal. Especially not right before they did something potentially hazardous to his mental state.

Again.

He quickly dropped the milk on the counter and left as fast as he could. He had somewhere to be, things to do, and a theory to test.

But first, a change of clothes.

x-x-x

Keith was sick of looking for Lance. I mean, seriously! The guy is over six foot, he shouldn't be that hard to find! Keith grumbled as he turned another corner in his search.

It was just his luck that he’d been chosen to ‘collect’ Lance. Shiro wasn't even subtle about it! ‘Give him another chance’ ‘He deserves it’ ‘blah de blah de blah de blah.’ 

“Hey Dipshit,” Keith glanced down at the phone in his hand, not at all surprised to see Pidge’s face on the screen.

“Yes?” He said irritably.

“He’s in the pool room.”

“Fine. Meet you guys in the Lounge room.” Keith quickly shut off the phone and spun around to go the right direction.

Of course Lance would be wasting time swimming while they were all waiting for him. It was becoming unfortunately normal for him to skip team meals. And everybody else just let him! Shiro never let Keith skip meals. 

Keith opened the pool doors fully ready to shout at Lance, --

Only to find himself stopped short and mesmerized by the blue paladin.

Now, one thing you have to understand is, Keith grew up in a desert. He didn’t really like pools. The community pools were generally cesspits of germs and packed to the brim during the Arizona summers. And that’s if he could convince a foster parent to bring him along.

This was decidedly not the case for Lance.

Even from the doorway, Keith could tell where Lance had haphazardly thrown his towel to the side before jumping in. And based on the amount of water collecting on the sides of the pool, he’d been here for a while.

Keith watched as Lance flipped off the wall, turning into yet another lap, without even a pause. He hadn’t even realized how close he’d gotten until he felt water splash his boots. 

He growled at the wetness soaking into his feet. Shouting it was then.

“Lance!” Keith yelled. Nothing, “Lance! Lance! LANCE!” 

There! A stutter in the smoothness of his actions.

Lance flipped around at the other end of the pool and started back towards Keith. 

“Finally!” Keith crossed his arms and waited for Lance to finish. Meaning that he’d completely missed Lance’s smirk forming under the water. And that he was utterly unprepared for Lance to kick an entire wave of water at him the moment he was close enough.

Now Keith really shouted.

“What the hell Lance!” He yelled, then continued trying to get his jacket off before it would be ruined.

Lance scoffed playfully as he hefted himself out of the water, “It was worth a try to see if that mullet was any sort of salvageable when wet,” He grabbed his towel and turned a cursory glance at Keith, “News Flash: the answer is no, there’s no hope at all for the mullet, it’d be a mercy just to cut it all off now.”

Keith was left a little shocked by the almost normal comment from Lance, before he finally registered what he’d said. 

“My hair is not that bad,” He growled, “And your hair’s not any better now. So there,”

“Oh, I’m well aware my hair is a disaster but unlike you, I don't make a routine of hacking it off in the bathroom.”

“It’s efficient!” Keith threw his hands up.

“It’s ratchet at best, Keith. But still, I am going to have to cut it soon, it kept getting in my eyes on my free-stroke.” 

“Wouldn’t be a problem if you weren’t swimming for like 3 hours straight.” Keith said snidely. Lance paused to glare at Keith, then went back to wrapping the towel on his head.

Once he’d finished he started walking towards the door, making Keith follow, “Did you know that as it turns out, the pool’s easier to access when you actually go through the elevator entrance? Rather than some off-ramp vent airway?” Insert pointed look at Keith. Insert Keith blatantly ignoring said look.

“It was your idea that got us up there.”

“It’s not my fault you’ve never seen Emperor’s New Groove. Besides, I actually have a reason for swimming this long.” Lance answered as the aforementioned elevator started moving. 

Keith scoffed, “Yeah, I’m sure you have plenty of excuses, Lance. And yet, you still missed dinner, and you’re still late to the team meeting.”

This time it was Lance who growled, “Let me talk, Keith, I’m serious, this is about the ringing.” That made Keith pay attention. He looked at Lance next to him, startled a bit by how stern he looked. Especially with a towel piled on his head.

“I’ve always loved swimming, and it’s been years since I’ve had the opportunity. The Garrison only allows the pool to be used in simulations, not for leisure.”

“Really? You call doing a hundred laps ‘leisure’? Wow, Iverson must’ve been so upset.” Keith rolled his eyes and ignored the look he got from Lance.

“Swimming makes me happy, it reminds me of my family, my home, everything I love about earth.” Lance said wistfully. But Keith’s eyes caught the slightest wince at the end of his statement. “And something that I’ve just now realized, is that Haggar didn't just want me to fight, she wanted me to lose hope too. So every time I think about my family, or I think about Earth, or even you guys, the team, I-” another wince, “The ringing gets worse.

Keith stopped dead in his tracks, not even noticing that the elevator had opened to let them out. Lance turned back to hold the door for him, and Keith rushedly stepped out, once again following Lance mindlessly.

“So you mean-.. Haggar tried to-” He couldn’t figure out how to phrase this. Was there really any good way to say, ‘Hey, an evil witch tried to make you into her own personal death drone,’?

“Yeah. And it worked.” Lance said softly. Keith hated that tone, he was becoming uncomfortably familiar with it, and much preferred Lance’s sarcasm. 

“I mean, I think it worked. Not so much now that I know, but.. When I was still there… Before I knew what the ringing was… I thought it was fair that I wouldn’t be able to think about my family without it hurting. I caused so much pain there, it was only fair I felt some as well.”

“Lance, that’s not-” He started through clenched teeth, but Lance cut him off.

“And I’ve always known what it takes to get rid of the ringing. I needed some time to think. And I needed to get away from the ringing for a while. Swimming does that for me. It makes me work hard enough to drive back the ringing, but I still love it, I can still enjoy it. It’s the one thing I have that hasn’t been ruined by all of this.” Lance’s fists were clenched tightly and he stopped walking.

“And you needed three hours for that?” Keith asked doubtfully. He hadn't realized they’d already reached Lance’s room.

“Like I said: it gave me some time to think,” Lance turned to face him fully, sucking in a deep breath, “I realized that I shouldn’t have fought you like that. I was desperate, but I crossed a line. I said some things I shouldn’t have and I wish I could’ve stopped myself because you didn’t deserve that from me. Not saying you don't need some sense knocked into you, but that wasn't my place.” Lance gave a small smirk, but it faded quickly, “I can’t keep lashing out at you guys like this. First it was Shiro, and then you. Who’s next, Pidge? Hunk? Coran?” Lanced sighed heavily, “I really am sorry about all of it. And you don't have to say anything back, I just didn’t want to leave it like this.” Lance barely waited before stepping away into his room, letting the door slide between them.

Keith stood there for a second.

He was really getting sick of doors closing between him and Lance. It’d happened three times today alone!

And what the hell was he supposed to say to Lance apologizing? The suspiciously Shiro-sounding little voice in his head could shut up about ‘just forgive him.’ No way.

But it was just… ugh! Every time Keith tried to think of the reason why he couldn’t, it was an actual reason. Keith hated excuses. They made him sound pathetic and weak. And honestly, screw that.

He just wanted things to go back to the way they were. Before. When Keith could argue with Lance and not nearly get his nose broken. No matter what Coran said about it.

They’d been on the road to a tenuous ‘friendship’ or whatever Lance kept calling frenemies. And… and… and he kind of liked it. Being friends that is. Because he’d never had friends. He had people he fought with. And that wasn’t what he wanted Lance to become. He wanted more than that. He-

“You’re still here?”

Keith would deny to the day he died that Lance Mcclain had actually managed to startle him. “Yeah….?” Keith said slowly, then furrowed his eyebrows, “What, did you think I’d leave?” 

And for Keith, all the excuses in the world fell flat against the tiny, half-surprised smile on Lance’s face.

“Then let’s get going, Mullethead, there’s no use making them wait for both of us.” Lance said as he smiled and turned down the hallway.

“You’re the one that made us late,” 

“Pffff, I made me late, you just decided to stick around and you should know by now that I have no problem being late.” Lance propped a hand up on his hip.

“Oh believe me, we’re all very knowledgeable about your timekeeping skills, except I don't understand how you’re late at all, considering you’ve got legs the size of giraffes.” Keith may have grumbled through that last statement. 

But really, every step he took was easily double the size of Keith’s, it was ridiculous. He kept having to shuffle to keep up with him!

“What can I say? I’m just pumped to get to work,” Lance plastered on a sarcastically fake smile and gave him a tight thumbs-up.

Keith crossed his arms as he rolled his eyes, “You know we have to do this, it’s the only way to-”

“Yeah yeah, spare me the lecture. I get it already.” Lance waved his hand at Keith like he could physically swat the conversation out of the air. 

“Who’s lecturing Lance?” Pidge’s voice cut in when the automatic doors opened at their presence.

“Nobody. Absolutely nobody,” Lance said as he made a bee-line to the couches, “We’re going to do this, get it over with and then put it all behind us. Good? Capische? Great. Let’s fire it up, Coran.”

“Don't you dare. Fire would ruin the headbands irreparably.” Coran said, clutching the headbands to his chest.

“Relax, Coran. It's just a figure of speech. It means Lance wants us to get started,” Shiro patted him placatingly as he passed the man to sit down next to Keith.

“Yeah, only time Lance’s ever been in a rush and he still wasn’t on time. Go figure. Worked out for me though, more time to process my code.” Pidge finally pulled herself away from her laptop, relinquishing Hunk to sit next Lance.

He whispered something about ice cream and new milk to Lance that Keith couldn't really hear, but Coran was already passing out the headbands. 

“I’ve already modified the quintessence modules in each of the headbands,” Allura moved towards the group, “But I’ll still need to activate yours individually, Lance, so that you all end up on the same plane.” 

“You won’t be joining us?” Keith added when he saw Lance hesitate at the request.

“No,” Allura paused, “Unfortunately, this will require that I act as a guide from the outside. Coran will help me monitor your quintessence levels so I can keep them stable and stay focused.”

“I’m sorry, guide? That implies the ability to get lost; is that a possibility? I mean, we’ve been to the astral plane before, right? So it should be just like that, we’re not going to get blindsided by some evil-astral creature, are we?” Hunk rattled off the random worries flitting through his head, some of which were slightly valid. At least to Keith’s perspective. Can’t be too prepared, right?

“None of that, we just need to keep the headbands from bouncing back like they did last time. Allura is simply guiding the quintessence stream around all you.” Coran chipped in as he went back to the princess’s side. Hunk visibly sagged in relief.

“Lance?” Oh right, apparently Shiro was the only one who remembered Lance still hadn’t answered Allura’s question. She’d need to get really close to him for this, something they’d all subconsciously tried to avoid.

“You can trust us, Lance. You have to for this to work.”

“I know.” Lance sighed and placed the band on his head. As Allura approached, Keith watched Lance rub his finger over something on his other hand. And yet it looked like every muscle in his body went taut at Allura’s touch.

Keith could barely catch a glimpse of Lance’s breathing picking up before the world in front of him exploded with stars. The astral plane.

It’d been a while since an astral projection had been so stable. Keith looked out and could see his teammates standing around him. Even Lance, to a degree, though he was shrouded by a thick fog. They could see it now, because unlike last time, they were actually in the astral plane, not just mentally. However, they could still feel the gap in the Voltron link. 

The gap where Lance was supposed to be.

“Guys?” Lance’s voice sounded anxious, though it edged into frantic surprisingly fast, “Guys? Guys, I can't see anything, why can’t I-” 

“Lance, calm down buddy, we’re here.” Hunk’s voice echoed across the void. Keith could hear it in the astral plane and through his actual ears. Hopefully Lance could too.

“Why can’t I feel any of you? Or see you?”

“Just-- give- me--  a minute-- I-” Allura’s voice was tense with effort. Keith watched in amazed confusion as the fog around Lance started to shift. 

The rest of the team approached it and Keith followed. He tried to put his hand through it, as if he could just reach through and pull Lance out. But his hand hit a barrier.

The light blue fog finally whirled itself into a more distinct form as it settled.

A wall. 

The outside shimmered as magic seemed to ripple across it.

“You all will have to take it from here.” Allura’s strained voice cut through once again, “I was able to shift and gather the quintessence of the block but I fear I do not have the ability to do more without losing my grip on it. It’s up to you, Paladins.”

“Absolutely, Princess,” Keith turned back to the wall with determination. 

Hunk and Pidge had already started pushing on the barrier. Yellow and green magic shimmered across the surface where they touched it. All of it eventually fading back to blue as it spread out farther.

Keith’s hand caused red to join the colors. And he could see black start to ripple from Shiro’s position as well.

But all of the color seemed to disappear too quickly, none of it touching each other. Just evaporating into the shifting blue of the barrier.

“I can only barely feel you, you guys,” Lance’s voice came from the other side, “You still just look like blurry shadows. Are we sure this is gonna work?”

“Lance is right, this isn’t working, you guys.” Hunk’s voice cut in.

“Then keep trying,” Keith ground out, “We’re not just going to give up.” He clenched his jaws tighter, his teeth starting to ache under the pressure.

“No, we’re not. But maybe…” Pidge leaned away from the wall, placing her hands on her hips and looking up at it. She suddenly snapped her head to their leader, “Shiro, we need to connect all of our energies. Instead of trying to put pressure on the entire thing, we just need to concentrate on one point. If we can crumple one part, maybe the rest will come down with it.”

“That sounds like a big maybe, Pidge, I don't know…” Hunk added as he pulled back as well.

Shiro looked at Pidge with a question in his eyes. Keith had seen it enough to know what it meant, ‘Are you sure?’

Pidge nodded with pursed lips.

“Alright, everybody, come over to me and Keith.” Shiro slipped right into leader mode, bringing the rest of the team closer, “We need to connect all of the magic we’ve been setting off and we need to make sure it works.” He motioned Keith even closer.

Keith briefly stepped away before placing his hands back down about a foot away from Shiro’s. The red light flowed out, just as it had before, moving towards the black tendrils.

They collided harshly, but stuck together. The magic fused to each other and Keith found he could no longer pull his hands away. By the look he got from Shiro, it was the same for him.

“Wow, I felt that,” Lance’s voice abruptly cut in, “What the hell was that?”

“We’re not quite sure. But we’re about to do it again, be ready.” Shiro beckoned for the other two paladins, “Pidge, you next, right below Keith’s.”

Pidge cautiously placed her hands down and they all watched as the green reached out for Keith and Shiro’s. It snapped into place with a flash of light, the wall shuddered allowing Keith to catch a glimpse of Lance through the fog.

He looked…

“Lance, what’s wrong with your face?”

“Nothing’s wrong with my face! What’s wrong with yours?!” He said incredulously.

“But I saw…” Now Keith was just confused, “I saw a glimpse of you through the wall…. You looked injured.”

“What? But I’m not-”

“Injured how?” Shiro said sharply.

“Like he’d just gone ten rounds with a blender and a sentient punching bag, Shiro. It didn’t look good.”

“Excuse you, I look fabulous no matter what.” Lance’s affronted protests were heard through the wall.

“Lance, do we need to stop?” Shiro asked, “Are you okay?”

“I'm fine Shiro,” Lance’s eye roll was audible, “Keithy-boy doesn’t know what he’s talking about.”

Shiro looked at him warily, “Keith?”

“If he says go for it, go for it. Who am I to police the actions of an idiot?” Keith tried to sound casual as he shrugged, but he still wished he could see Lance instead of just hear his scoff.

“Alright.” Shiro gave a short, decisive nod, “Hunk, get over here, Lance get ready again, we’re going through with this.”

“Aye aye, Captain,” 

Keith could visibly see Shiro glare Hunk and Pidge down from responding back with ‘I can’t hear you.’ He, of course, would also deny having the spongebob song stuck in his head for the rest of the day.

Hunk hesitantly placed his hands to the wall, surprised when it jerked him closer like a magnet. 

Yellow started flowing out, reaching for Pidge, then Shiro, then finally making contact with the Red of Keith’s own. Each time glowed brighter than the last.

The world around them rumbled.

“There! I saw him!” Pidge shouted out.

“I saw him too! Keith was right, he looks hurt!”

The fog had gaps in it now, places that were thinner than others, and some thicker spaces were shaded a darker blue.

Through one of the gaps, Keith could see Lance drop to one knee.

“Lance!” “Lance! What’s wrong!?” “Are you okay?!”

“I- I’m fine you guys. That blast just knocked me off my feet.” Lance lifted his head to look at them, “I always knew Keith would give me a killer headache, but I never expected it from the rest of you,” He gave them a grin that looked like it should hurt. But it seemed like he didn’t even notice the injuries on his face. 

“Wait, the injuries, they keep changing,” Pidge pointed out, “Why do they keep changing?” Keith looked closer, she was right. The injuries faded in and out on Lance, never the same.

“Seriously guys, I have no idea what you’re talking abou-”

“AS GREAT as it is to see you speaking as a team, I don't think the Princess can hold all of you in the Astral Plane for much longer.” Coran’s voice echoed around them, followed closely by Allura’s.

“It is true, my grip on the quintessence is slipping, something is interfering with it. I fear I may not be able to keep it stable for-”

“What the hell is that!” Hunk’s shout forced Keith’s head to snap towards him as he watched in horror..

The pale fog surrounding Lance was starting to change color. Purple leeching across the surface, like ink in water. It trampled the blue, growing as it surged towards the team.

“Guys, you’re starting to fade out again. What’s going on? Why is it going dark? You guys?” Lance’s shouts jumped through the barrier, but no one could spare a second to respond. The world rumbled again.

A splotch of purple got close enough to touch a tendril of black, seeming satisfied when it leapt away from the color in time with Shiro’s jerk.

“I know what this is,...” Shiro answered, fear building in his voice, “This is druid magic! It’s trying to get to Voltron!”

Keith caught a final glimpse of Lance’s worried face, before the wall started to close off again. And the purple got stronger as Lance pulled back.

“Shiro! We can’t let them get Voltron! She can’t-” Lance sounded more desperate than before.

“I know Lance. Everybody! Channel your lions, we have to push this back.” Shiro’s statement ended with a growl as he pushed more into the quintessence of the barrier. Keith followed suit and could see his team do the same.

Voltron’s colors rushed out against the purple. Even if the Black seemed to push from behind the others, Keith could feel his team hold strong against the ominous pressure.

The entire wall of fog swirled with color now. Not just blue, but Red, Yellow, Green, and Black all curling across each other in smooth cooperation.

Keith had to grit his teeth to keep the flow of power steady. And by the looks of it, everyone else was in the same boat.

“Shiro, it’s taking everything we’ve got just to keep the druid magic back, how are we going to break the wall?”

“I don't know, Keith,” Shiro raised his voice to rise above the barrier, “Lance, we’ve got the druids pushed back, for now, and we’re holding strong!,” The fog returned the thinned state it had been in before, revealing Lance in the middle, curled in on himself. He looked up at them, seeming more weary than he had before.

“Is there anything you can do from your side?”

Lance shakily stood up, almost losing his balance as the ground shook around them. Keith watched Lance steady himself before reaching for the wall. 

The wall glowed a bit brighter, and Keith could feel the pressure even out across the five of them. The bond grew stronger. 

But it wasn’t enough.

“Paladins! You must hurry! If we are to do this, we must do it now! I cannot hold it for much longer!” Allura’s words made Keith look up to see she was correct. The world, the Astral Plane, was quite literally falling apart around them.

A loud thumping sound shook them as shards of the sky fell to the ground.

“Hey, uh- guys,” Hunk’s leg shot out to kick incessantly at his shins, “Hey, guys, guys, guys!”

“What, Hunk!?” Keith snapped as he looked at him.

“I think something’s coming towards us!” Hunk shouted. Keith turned to follow his line of sight. Sure enough, there was a growing blue light at the horizon, slowly getting bigger as it got closer.

“What is that?” By now the whole team was looking at it, Pidge trying to get a proper look with her short arms still stuck to the barrier.

The thumping sound got louder, mixing in with the rumbling of the collapsing Astral Plane.

“Focus, team!” Shiro ground out beside him. The pull of quintessence from Keith got stronger as Hunk and Pidge’s focus shifted. It almost hurt to keep the flow open.

“What are you guys seeing? Is it something bad?” Lance’s voice sounded in his ear. When he looked back, Keith was surprised to find Lance almost right against the barrier, their eyes meeting.

“We don't know what-”

“Is that-?” Pidge asked in an unsure voice.

“I think it is!” Hunk sounded giddy, making Keith look away again, “It’s the Blue Lion!”

The thumping sound grew louder as the Blue Lion’s shape became clearer, now recognizable as the sound of paws running towards them.

Hunk cheered, losing focus even more, and Keith nearly stumbled under the weight now resting on Shiro, Lance and himself.

“Pidge! Hunk! If Blue is coming, then we need to be ready. Focus on the barrier!” Shiro commanded. Pidge immediately turned back to help them. Hunk…. not so much.

“She’s not slowing down. She’s not slowing down! I repeat, she is not slowing down! We are about to be crushed by a giant charging Space Lion!” Hunk’s signature anxious voice filled the air. Pidge looked back.

“Actually, I think she’s getting smaller…she’s almost normal sized.”

‘Normal-sized’ was an exaggeration. Blue was still several times larger than a normal ‘Earth’ lion. A fact becoming readily apparent as she got closer, and again, did not slow down.

“The Blue Lion knows what she’s doing. Get it together you two, we need to keep this wall stabilized.” Shiro used his Galran hand to forcibly turn Hunk’s head around to the wall. The purple had already started to come back the moment the team wasn’t pushing at full strength.

“Yep, uh huh, got it, focus on the evil purple magic, not the giant lion. Can do, boss man. Can, do.” Hunk rambled under his breath, still sneaking glances out of the corner of his eyes.

The thumping of Blue’s feet was deafening; and when she roared, every paladin, even Shiro, had no choice but to look back at her in reverence. 

She charged forwards with all the might of a mother, crashing towards Lance without pause for the wall between them.

All remnants of purple were pushed out of existence as Blue’s magic rushed through the barrier, scattering the world around them. 

The paladins were thrown back into the real world with a shock, Allura stumbling backwards into the waiting arms of Coran.

Lance was laying on the floor in front of them, a smile on his face. There were even a few joyful tears gathered at the corner of his eyes

“Lance?”

“She’s back.” He whispered, the words coming out in disbelief. “She’s back. I can feel her again.” If possible, Lance’s smile grew even bigger as he sat up, the tears falling down his cheeks. “Blue, I missed you so much, girl. I missed you so much!” A rumble echoed through the castle, very clearly originating from the hangers.

“Don’t worry Lance, I think she missed you too,” Hunk smiled back. The pure happiness radiating from them was contagious, despite how exhausted everyone felt.

Pidge moved closer, peering up at Lance curiously.

“So, Lance,” She paused,

“Do you remember?”

First Chapter: https://snaileer.tumblr.com/post/613092735756402688/chips-and-salsa-chp-1

Next Chapter: https://snaileer.tumblr.com/post/653555387542405120/chips-salsa-chapter-9

#voltron #chipsandsalsa #vld #Voltron: Defender of the Universe #voltron keith #voltron lance #keith voltron #lance voltron #princess allura #allura voltron #keith #lance #hunk #pidge #shiro #takashi shirogane #keith kogane #lance mcclain #lance sanchez #hunk garrett #pidge gunderson #pidge holt #katie holt #klance #leith #shance

[e-of-west-glendia]

Happy birthday to the wonderful @imliterallyvirgilandlogan!! You are an absolutely amazing person and I love you to death.

(Apparently I’m incapable of writing fluff without angst so um enjoy this fluffy angsty mess. To be fair Sirius Black on Mother’s Day is basically a recipe for an inevitably angsty disaster.)

Something About Mother’s Day

(I can’t come up with creative titles)

Sirius sat on the edge of his bed watching Peter, James, and Remus finalize cards and wrap up gifts. It was Mother’s Day. His absolute least favorite day of the year.

Sirius had had bad experiences with Mother’s Day in the past. At the Black residence it was never a time of sweet celebration and kindness, it was always some dull party that was really just an excuse to showcase their wealth. Alternatively it was a meeting with all the Sacred 28 members. Sirius has found that those were the worst Mother’s Days. Sitting at a table, back straight, giving small, perfunctory nods to everyone he encountered and answering awkward questions about being in Gryffindor and producing heirs (he was 16 for god sake).

It had to be around noon when he finally decided that he should leave. There was no use in bringing everyone down with his feelings about this holiday.

Hopping off the bed, Sirius made his way to the door.

“Honestly, my mum is too nice for her own good. Last Mother’s Day she sent me a gift— Sirius where are you going?” James had stopped halfway through his sentence, glasses slipping down his nose as he peered over the top of them at his friend.

Sirius shrugged. “Nowhere in particular.”

Peter cocked his head to the side curiously, while James and Remus narrowed their eyes in suspicion.

“Sirius is something—“ but Sirius was gone before Remus had even finished his question.

Peter turned to the other two boys. “Do you think it’s because…” he started.

“Probably,” James and Remus said in unison.

~~~~~~~

Sirius found himself sitting by the lake. If he was being quite honest with himself he couldn’t even remember how he’d gotten out there in the first place. His mind had been swimming with images of that past winter.

Drunken screams and broken glass. Flashes of light of every color. And pain. Excruciating pain. The faint crack of broken bones— it had taken him a while to realize that they’d been his bones broken — and the sharp metallic scent of blood. Everything had been hazy after that. Regulus’ hands on him, silently cursing and muttering about something that Sirius had been too pain weary to try and listen to. Two flashes of green light— one that smelt sickly sweet and poisonous, death laced in every syllable. The other, light and warm and smelling slightly of ash and burnt wood. Then he passed out in the Potters living room to the sounds of James screaming for his parents.

A light tap on his shoulder almost made him jump. He looked behind him and almost jumped again when he saw who it was. He quickly schooled his features into something befitting the infamous Sirius Black — Marauder and mischief maker extraordinaire.

“Ms Evans, to what do I owe the pleasure?” He asked.

Lily rolled her eyes at him. “Shut up, Black.”

Sirius laughed. Since becoming a prefect Lily and Remus had begun to hang out more. Which meant that Sirius saw more of her than he had in previous years and it also meant that she seemed to hate him significantly less. By significantly less he meant he would say hello to her in the halls and she wouldn’t completely ignore him. Unless of course James was around. Then she’d just leave.

Sirius raised an eyebrow at her. “What’s up? This has to be the longest conversation we’ve had all year.” A grin lit up his face. “What, have I finally started to grow on you?”

Lily turned slightly red and scowled at him. “No.” She said firmly. Then, “I just saw you sitting outside alone and I thought I’d make sure you didn’t get eaten by the giant squid. Actually, on second thought, I wouldn’t mind if the giant squid ate you.”

Sirius laughed again. “Isaura wouldn’t hurt me. We’re best friends.”

Lily snorted. “I’m sure that’s exactly what she thought when she threw you out of the lake last summer.”

Sirius shrugged. “Our relationship might have its ups and downs but I promise you we’ll withstand the test of time.”

“You’re an idiot,” Lily sighed. Then she peered down at Sirius. Sirius got the odd sense that she was analyzing him with that piercing green gaze.

“Something’s wrong, isn’t it?” she asked. He’d been correct.

Out of instinct he said. “Nope. Everything’s all good.”

Lily didn’t buy it for a second. “Uh huh sure. You’re sitting outside, by yourself, skipping stones across the lake while staring forlornly at the horizon. Not to mention it’s fucking freezing outside and you’re not even wearing a jacket. Meanwhile I just came from the common room where your friends are being idiots as usual.”

Sirius winced. She had a point.

“You don’t hide your emotions nearly as well as you think,” Lily finished.

Sirius grumbled something about meddling redheads that made Lily smile.

Lily chewed her bottom lip for a second before sighing and plopping down next to Sirius. Sirius glanced at her in confusion.

“Not going to run away screaming this time, Evans?”

“Har har.”

It was another few seconds of silence before Lily turned to Sirius.

“I heard about what...happened...over winter break,” she said cautiously.

The small smile that had been creeping onto Sirius’ face died immediately.

“I suppose Snivellous told you then.”

Lily bit her lip, fighting a retort against the nickname.

“Doesn’t matter where I heard it from. I just— what I’m trying to say is...I get it.”

Sirius snapped his head to her so quickly he almost gave himself whiplash.

“You get it,” he asked, voice nothing shot of venomous. “Oh I’m sure you ‘get it’. Because everyone understands what it’s like to be—“ he stopped short at the silencing hand the girl held up.

Sometimes the power Lily Evans commanded over people amazed him.

“Easy, Black. That’s not what I meant.”

Sirius gave her a look that clearly said well then what did you mean?

Lily sighed again, it sounded sad this time. Sirius almost felt bad for snapping at her. Almost.

“What I meant was...I know what it’s like to not have the best relationship with family members. And my situation is definitely nothing on yours,” she said quickly when she heard Sirius’ scoff. “But I know what it’s like to be the hated one— the outcast. And it sucks. I wouldn’t wish it on anyone, least of all you.”

Sirius stared at her but Lily kept speaking. “You’re a good person, Sirius. Annoying? Yes. Arrogant? Totally. A bit self absorbed? Definitely. But you’re a good person. You care about your friends and they care about you. Nothing your bitch of a mother says or does will ever change that.”

Sirius snorted at that last part. “Thanks.”

“Anytime.”

Sirius was silent again, debating on whether or not he should ask Lily the question that was now swimming in his mind.

“Hey Lil—“

“My sister,” Lily cut him off. “You were going to ask who in my family it was, right? It’s my sister Petunia. She’s hated me since I got my letter.”

Sirius winced slightly. He definitely knew a thing or two about difficult sibling relationships.

He didn’t apologize though. She wouldn’t want to hear that. Instead he said, “Yikes.”

“Much yikes,” Lily agreed.

“I meant what I said, y’know. About your friends. They really love you, Sirius. I mean you and James are basically brothers — practically joined at the hip. You and Peter are always laughing about something. And Remus,” she paused for a moment, as if debating on what her next words were going to be. “Remus, especially. He cares.”

For the millionth time that morning Sirius gaped still Lily. “What do you mean especially Re—“

“Speak of the devils,” Lily said, interrupting him and climbing to her feet. “I think I’d best be off now.”

Sirius squinted into the distance. He could vaguely make out his three friends picking their way across the wet grass towards them.

“Well Black it’s been fun. I swear I’ll kill you if you let it slip we ‘hung out’,” Lily said, framing her words in air quotes. Despite her menacing tone she was smiling.

“I don’t doubt it,” Sirius laughed.

Lily sent him one last smile before quickly setting off across the grass.

She was halfway to the greenhouses when the other three arrived at Sirius’ side.

James, in typical James fashion called out, “Hey Evans! How about you come with me to Hogsmeade this weekend?”

Sirius snorted at James as he watched Lily flip him the finger and shout something that sounded like “In your dreams, Potter,” over her shoulder before she disappeared around a corner, red hair flying around her face.

“Trying to steal James’ girlfriend?” Peter teased.

“Yeah!” James said, rounding on him. “What was that about.”

Sirius barked out a laugh. “You wound me Jamie. You really think I’d steal the future Mrs Potter from you?”

James spluttered incoherently at him. “Besides,” Sirius continued. “I’m not really into girls that psychoanalyze me.”

Remus snorted. “Yeah, she does that.”

Sirius looked up at Remus, reveling in the way the early morning sun turned his brown hair gold. He couldn't help staring at him, but could you blame him? Remus Lupin was beautiful in just about every way you could be. Inside and out. His mind flashed to what Lily had said about Remus. She couldn’t know that he was in love with Remus...could she? And she certainly hadn’t meant...had she? No, he thought firmly. She definitely hadn’t meant that. The odds of Remus liking him back were about 1 in a million and Sirius had never been high on good luck.

It seemed as though James had just remembered how far off the straight spectrum Sirius Black was because he said, “Oh...right...yeah…”

Sirius laughed at him. James’ face suddenly turned serious. “Right. Back to what we’re here for,” He said. “It’s Mother’s Day and Mumis fully expecting a card from both of her sons.”

Sirius gave him a confused look. “What do you mean both...?”

“Oh please,” James scoffed. “You heard what Mum said to Walburga on the platform back in January.”

Sirius very clearly remembered. Euphemia had looked down right murderous when she’d said, “And if you ever touch my sons again, Walburga, I won’t hesitate to kill you.” Even his mother, the unshakable Walburga Black, had taken a step back. Sirius had no doubts that Euphemia would make good on her threat. He smiled to himself. She kinda reminded him of Lily.

“And anyways you’ve been a Potter since the moment I met you.”

“He’s right,” Remus said, nudging Sirius with his foot. “You were a Potter long before you were formally adopted by them.”

“Exactly,” James said, nodding at Remus. “Now hurry up and sign the damn card. There’s going to be hell to pay if she doesn’t get a gift from both of us.”

James extended a hand to Sirius, which he accepted and allowed himself to be pulled to his feet.

“Best get started on that card then,” he said.

The four of them headed back across the lawn. Remus leaned down close to Sirius, his hair tickling the side of his face.

“What’d Lily say,” he asked softly in his ear.

Sirius repressed a shudder, mentally chiding himself at his reaction. Just friends. Just friends, he thought to himself. He sent a glance in Remus direction. Curious green eyes met grey and Sirius sighed. Taking what Lily had said to heart would really just be wishful thinking.

“Nothing,” he said.

“Hmm,” Remus said, unconvinced, but he didn’t press it.

Sirius grinned at him.

Despite the answer that Sirius had given Remus, something definitely had changed between Lily and Sirius. And though neither of them would ever admit it at the time, from that day forth Lily Evans and Sirius Black were most definitely friends.

#HAPPY BIRTHDAY!!! #wolfstar #wolfstar fanfiction #Harry Potter #Harry Potter fanfic #marauders era #James Potter #Lily Evans #Sirius Black #Remus Lupin #peter pettigrew #the giant squid #hogwarts #happy mothers day #birthday gifts #angst #fluff #mild wolfstar references #my writing

[oingo233]

I am loving how much thought you're putting into these ship requests ❤ so I thought I'd ask too!

I'm a heterosexual Ravenclaw female. I like to read and write. I used to peer tutor. I like to laugh. My sense of humor is pretty sarcastic. I like to play board games and watch movies and TV. I like being outside but just to relax and enjoy the weather. No camping or serious hiking for me lol. I have green eyes and dark blonde hair. Think you could do a ship for both ears? If not whichever you want is fine. 😊

You sound so awesome!  (Total side note: but yall or too cool for me wtf I just adore you) I kinda went off with the marauders ship, and since I wrote so much for it I decided not to do the Lightning Era ship, which I hope you don’t mind, but if you really want one just let me know and I’ll get to it.  Also sorry this took me forever, I’m the worst at posting/writing.  But I hope you enjoy it! <3 

Anyways, based off of everything here is what I think....

Marauders Era

I ship you with James Potter...

- He saw you were giving peer tutoring lessons so he lied and said he needed “loads of help.  Please, you’d be doing me a huge favor.  I’ll pay ya back?” he’d say with a wink, you’d roll your eyes and fight your smile because truth be told him and his friends always made you laugh with their pranks and you were always a little curious about this charming and handsome boy.

- You agree, in the name of education and graciousness of course.  No other reason... none at all.  Definitely not because he smelled good, and you knew he was passing that class with flying colors and so he had to be into you too, right?

- He was, oh god he was so into you.  He spent more time staring at you than the books you used to study.  It was often you’d look up to see if he was “registering” the information and he’d just be gazing up at you through his glasses, mouth slightly agape in a smile.  You’d blush and ask him an on-topic question, he’d answer correctly and you’d only blush more.

- He always made you laugh till your stomach was in knots and the two of you were kicked out of the library.  It was one of those time when he asked you out on your guy’s first “date”.

- The two of you were standing outside the library doors, cheeks flushed and eyes alight with humor.  He told the worlds best story about his first time on a broom, and how he thought he could fly into outer-space and bring back a star for his mom. (he was very little and didn’t know any better, his dad of course was right next to him and raced after him, but James was so fast.  Afterwards at dinner they scowled him, but knew he would be just great at quidditch.)

- “But it’s all true, all of it,” he says, laughing as you shake your head in disbelief.  He is walking beside you as you two wander the halls, not sure where to go but not wanting to part from one another. “But I’ll tell you, nothing has ever made me feel so free.  Just flying like that, nothing can hold you back.” he says, a large smile on his face.  You smile up at him and his heart nearly drops.

- “Sounds nice,” You mutter, only half paying attention to your own words because James looked so kissable then.  He smiled wider and walked closer to you, blushing as his nerves took over.  “I could teach ya?  If ya want, of course.” He asks you.  Without hesitation you say yes.

- That weekend you spend the whole Saturday together, learning, it seems as though he was the tutor now.  You nearly fell off the broom from laughing so hard, and James’s face would genuinely twist with worry when you would try new moves, he wouldn’t want you getting hurt.  The weather was just wonderful and the brisk breeze caressed your skin, yet the sun kept you warm.

- It was on that beautiful day, that you two laid back on the field of grass to rest and enjoy the weather, he leaned over and kissed you.  You were in shock and he almost pulled away, ready to apologies and die from embarrassment but then you started kissing him back and he found something he for sure liked more than flying...you.

- You two fell in love and have been dating ever since.  His sense of humor is both terrible amazing puns, and sarcasm so you two are always laughing your hearts out with the rest of the Marauders or even just alone.

- You two play board games a lot because he actually started to like them around the same time he found out you did (coincidence...I think not). When you two played together he’d get so into it, he’d just stare down at the board and figure out his next move, giving you perfect time to admire him in silence.  He truly was beautiful.  You’d see his glasses inch down his nose, and he’d slowly push them back up, still focused.

- Whenever you let him win (rarely) he’d would boast about it all day, but it made him so happy you learned to sit there and take it, you knowing the truth about your mad skills was enough.  Sirius and Remus knew it too.

- He’d always watch movies and TV with you, but only if you two were cuddled up.  It’s the only thing that helped him stay still long enough to really get lost in and take in the film.  His fav cuddle positions were when you’d lay in-between his legs, ontop of him, and cuddle your head on his chest, you were so warm and he’d play with your hair and give you forehead kisses .  

- Or, his all time fav cuddle was when it was switched, and he was laying atop your chest.  He loved how he could hear your heartbeat, and feel when you laugh.  You also just run your hands through his hair and if he isn’t careful he could just fall asleep like that, zenned out and warm.

- Since you like being outside so much, but no hard activities (gurl, same!) he would always set up a picnic for the two of you.  Outside on nice days, he’d cover your eyes and lead you across campus to this spot beneath a nice, shady tree.  Lying underneath it would be a blanket, your favorite book and foods, and some pillows.  He’s let you lay your head in his lap and he’d read aloud to you.  He’d put on voices for the characters and make sarcastic commentary that always made you laugh.

- During quidditch matches he gave you his spare jersey to wear and begged you to “Just for one day, be a Gryffindor.  I’ll give ya me jersey, splash some face paint on ya, and no one will tell the difference.” because he’d want for you to sit with Remus, and Sirius and Peter and cheer him on, because then he wouldn’t have to look all over the stands for his favorite group of cheerleaders.  You always kissed him before a match for good luck, he swears by it.

- But he also loved that you were a Ravenclaw.  He admired your intelligence, wit and creativity the most and it wasn’t like you were lacking the Gryffindor traits that he took so much pride in.  He also liked the different perspective you could give him on situations considering your different houses really shaped you both individually and he spent a lot of time with fellow Gryffindors.

- He’d pull the best puppy eyes to convince you to let him read whatever you are writing.  He adores every word you put on paper and even asks to keep his favorite story of yours that you’ve written so he can read it over summer.

- Overall, you both love and support one another so much!  And it was a match made by cupid himself aka me

I hope you liked this!

[orangeflavoryawp]

Jonsa - “Red Curtain”

My first modern Jonsa piece.  Definitely a different voice than I usually use, but loads of fun to write.

If you’re interested in the accompanying playlist at all, here you go.

Red Curtain

Chapter One: No Take-Backs

“He’s pretty sure he left that closet at least half in love with her.”  -  Jon and Sansa.  Summer’s for lovin’, after all.  

Oh, and crisis.  That, too. 

Read it on Ao3 here.

Part 1 | 2

* * *

"No, no, but you see, gravity doesn't matter here," Theon argues. "You're up in space. It's like a fucking swimming pool up there, just, you know, minus having your trunks hauled halfway down your ass every time you surface."

"Theon, it's not gravity keeping your jizz in your dick," Jon laughs, reaching for the ice bags Robb hands him over the edge of the pickup truck.

Robb heaves another bag over. "This is literally the dumbest conversation you two have ever had."

Jon points at Robb accusingly. "Hey, okay look, I can guarantee you this isn't the dumbest conversation Theon's ever had." He swings the offending finger over to Theon in point.

"Dude, how do you know how that shit works in space? You ever been?" he defends, fumbling with one of the coolers.

Jon rolls his eyes. He hadn't really expected he'd be arguing the finer points of masturbating in space when he got up this morning, but in hindsight, he probably should have, considering the day's company.

"I'll be back with the beers," Tormund calls out, coming around the truck as Robb jumps down.

Jon tosses him the keys in answer. "Grab some spritzers, too."

"You got it, Buttercup," Tormund says, winking, climbing into the driver's seat.

After a glare his buddy's way, Jon looks back to find Robb and Theon staring at him with matching smirks.

He shrugs. "What?"

"Spritzers?" Robb asks, closing the truck bed with a cocked eyebrow.

Jon grabs the cooler handle opposite Theon's hold. If he's lucky, maybe he can upend him. "Your mom likes 'em," he mumbles. And then he throws an arched brow Robb's way. "Actually, your dad, too."

"You're such a fucking suck-up," Robb laughs, shaking his head, piling in what bags of ice he could fit into the cooler.

"Your boyfriend's kinda cute, you know. He's not staying?" Theon asks with a nod sent back at Tormund as he peels off in the truck.

Jon throws a swing Theon's way and he guffaws in answer while ducking, before nearly dropping his end of the cooler, scrambling for balance.

Serves the fucker right.

Between the two of them, they get the cooler up the driveway. Robb trails behind them with a bag of ice on each hip, looking every bit the expectant father he is. "Tell Tormund to come by. He always makes a party more eventful," Robb goads.

"You mean more expensive," Jon throws back.

He's still paying off that bill for the pool table Tormund wrecked back at The Crow, after all. And yet, it's him who gets all the dirty glares from the bartenders now.

And really, what's up with that? It's not like he's the man's mother.

Jon shakes his head, glancing back at Robb. "Anyway, he's got a shift tonight."

Theon wrinkles his nose. "The brewery?"

"Yeah."

Robb mock pukes.

"What? It's a good gig," Jon defends.

"It's where you met Ygritte," Robb points out, shifting the ice over his hips.

Jon refrains from rolling his eyes. Only barely. "She's not a bad person. We were just... bad for each other."

"Ever heard of that river in Egypt?" Theon quips. "De-nile?"

Jon throws him an exasperated look. "Why do you hate her so much anyway?"

Theon's smirk instantly dips into a frown entirely too somber for such a face. "She borrowed my copy of 'The Thing' and never gave it back."

Jon actually laughs at that one.

"See!" Robb butts in, "Those are the worst kinds of people. She's a taker, man. What you need is a giver."

"Someone like Tormund," Theon supplies cheekily. "Seriously though, what is it with you and redheads?"

Jon drops his half of the cooler weight for a brief moment in response, just before catching it again, and Theon's yanked hard left with the motion.

"What the fuck, man?" He rubs his shoulder, glaring at Jon, but Jon's too busy laughing, before he stumbles over a sprinkler head when they dip off the driveway. "Agh, fuck, that hurt."

"Karma's a bitch, Snow," Theon taunts. "And she's my bitch."

Jon opens his mouth but Robb cuts him off, ushering them off the driveway. "Guys, left – go left. We gotta take the cooler round back anyway. Dad's already in the yard."

So they shuffle left, crossing over the Starks' large front lawn toward the side gate to the backyard.

"Watch the zinnias," Robb directs.

Jon and Theon stop simultaneously to look back at him.

"Dude," Theon deadpans.

Robb comes up short, glancing between the two, shifting awkwardly with the ice in his arms. "Mom will kill you," he says in answer.

"Do you want to carry this thing?" Jon asks with a pinched brow.

Robb brushes past them toward the side gate. "Just don't step on them. Come on, come on."

They trudge onward, and Jon really does roll his eyes then because of fucking course he still takes pains not to step on the goddamn zinnias.

Maybe Robb was right. He really is a suck-up.

They make it to the gate and drop the cooler, thank god.

"Dad! Dad, open up," Robb yells over the gate, rocking back and forth from foot to foot with that cold ass ice at his sides.

"We brought your shit!" Theon hollers, and Jon throws a smack to his chest in reprimand.

"Ow," he draws out dramatically, a hand to his chest.

Robb frowns at the gate, the gate that isn't opening. He wiggles the ice higher up his hips. Stares hard at the fence.

Theon cocks a brow at him.

"Call him," Robb says, chin jutting toward Jon.

He reaches for his phone, hands flattening over empty back pockets. "Shit, it's in my bag." The bag he left in Tormund's truck.

Theon makes a similar show opposite him.

Robb throws his head back with an exaggerated groan, dropping the bags down on the top of the cooler. "I'm not picking that shit back up again," he swears, an unexpected shudder rippling through him when he's suddenly ice-free. He clamps his hands over his chest, his t-shirt already damp and sticking to him. "Shit, my nipples," he curses.

Theon barks a laugh.

"Look, I'll call him," Jon says through a laugh. "Where's your phone?"

Robb shoos his hands away. "I got it, I got it." He pulls his phone from his back pocket, dials, waits a moment. "Yeah, Dad, we're here." He glances to the gate. "No, it's not open." He ushers toward Theon to try the latch.

It swings free as soon as he tries the handle.

Robb glares at the offending gate. "It's open," he mutters, hanging up.

Jon cocks a brow at him. "We cool to go in or...?"

"Yeah, they're coming," he assures, pocketing his phone.

And then Jon catches sight of Ned Stark coming down the long stretch of grass lining the side of the house. He's in checkered shorts, a short-sleeved button down, flip flops that squelch at his heels with each step, and Jon hides a chuckle behind his fist, because he fucking loves this man, summer fit and all. And then Benjen comes around the corner behind him, dressed similarly, jogging to catch up, a hand raised in the air in greeting and before Jon knows it, it's a rush of hugs, and claps on shoulders, and a kind of rough jostling that makes him beam, a rowdy tousle of welcomes, smiles stretched wide.

He misses this. God, he fucking misses this. The only family he ever truly felt a part of.

And then that useless, familiar guilt ripples through him.

The thing is though, he thinks his mother would have appreciated the closeness he feels with the Starks. After all, she and Ned Stark grew up living next door to each other for fifteen years, near as siblings as anyone could be. And then years had passed, and suddenly they were all adults, and maybe Ned made some better choices, and Lyanna hadn't. Maybe all of this was supposed to be ancient history. And he doesn't really know if history is supposed to be a lesson, he really doesn't. And he doesn't fucking care. Because his mom did a hell of a job with what she had, and he loved her, more than he knew he could love anyone, and she was good for him, she really was, right up to the moment that she died.

She never stopped being good for him, really. Even after she died – when Ned Stark wrapped his arm around his trembling, nineteen-year-old shoulders at the funeral, let him cry into his perfectly starched collar, took him home to a warm house, gave him some hot soup and his first glass of whiskey, told him stories about his mother that had him laughing as hard as he'd been crying just earlier – that was his mother right there. That was his mother bringing Ned Stark, and all the rest of them, into his life full force. No take-backs.

It's not something he thinks too hard about most days – how his first real birthday party, when he was seven years old, was a cowboys versus dinosaurs theme, because he and Robb Stark, the stupid, loudmouth boy next door, had gotten into such an argument weeks before (and they've never really settled that one since, to be honest.) Or how the boy across the street, Theon fucking Greyjoy, had knocked on his door in the middle of the rain, holding up the tail-end of his pet iguana with a look of exasperation far older than their eleven years with a sigh of 'He keeps getting into my sister's bathroom'.

And he tries not to think about the day he attempted to teach Arya to drive in his busted up Jeep and became witness to such road rage that had him shrinking in his seat, fingers curling around the hand-hold along the roof, or the way Bran quietly demolishes him every time they play a round of Modern Warfare, sipping his perfectly iced root beer with a hint of superiority, or the way Rickon had wailed when animal control took away that stray dog they'd found in the park, huddled under a bush, whining and licking at its broken leg. Or how Sansa had –

Jon swallows thickly, mind fizzing out.

Because he remembers how Sansa helped him pick out a new suit for his first day at the firm, when his nerves had been frayed all to hell. And he remembers how she helped him sneak Robb back into the house through her bedroom window, nagging the whole way through, when he and Theon had gotten her brother drunk for the first time in highschool. And he remembers back in middle school how she helped mend the jacket his mother had given him because he didn't want her to find out that he'd ripped it riding bikes through the construction site she'd warned him to stop playing in.

And sometimes, when he least expects it, he even remembers the morning after his mother's funeral.

After spending the night, he'd been sitting out on the Starks' front step just before dawn, his hands linked between his knees, mouth fuzzy from the whiskey Ned had given him the night before, and he remembered looking up at the sky. Barely a cloud in sight. This pretty sort of blue, just on the verge of daybreak, and he remembered absolutely hating it. Wanted to throw something up into that stupid, pretty blue, make it crack and break, blow a hole straight through it, watch the pieces trickle down.

And then Sansa pushed the front porch door open.

He'd turned back to look at her, squinting in the half-light. She was standing there in the same sweatpants and tank top she'd gone to sleep in the night before, holding an opened yogurt in one hand, a spoon in the other, keeping the door open with her hip.

He's sure he'd meant to say something, but nothing really seemed to be worth saying right then, so he just looked at her. She watched him a moment, like she was still deciding whether to step out onto the porch entirely or not, and then she offered a light quirk of her lip and let the door slip off her hip and shut behind her. She sat down beside him and started to silently eat her yogurt.

It was that probiotic shit he'd seen her eating dozens of times before, lemon flavored, and it was so normal suddenly – here – the morning after his mother's funeral, sitting next to Sansa Stark at the crack of dawn.

She looked at him, lip caught between her teeth. "Want some?"

And he'd let out a breath finally, all the anger bleeding from him instantly. He shrugged, a chuckle leaving him. "Sure, why not?" He opened his mouth and she spooned a dollop in obediently.

It tasted terrible. And he must have made a face, because her lips tipped down in an imperceptible frown and then she was glancing back at her yogurt. "It helps with indigestion," she said despondently, turning the tiny carton around in her hand, peering at the label.

And then Jon laughed, only it hurt. So maybe it wasn't a laugh at all. All he knew was that his eyes burned, and he couldn't look at her, and the air built up in his chest and it wasn't leaving, it just felt like choking, and he was sure he was laughing now, awkwardly loud and clipped off at the end, like his own tongue hadn't expected it, and then he was pressing his knuckles into his eye socket, like he could dig the very tears out if only he could clench his fist hard enough.

The sky was so stupidly, frustratingly blue.

And his mother was dead.

"I think it's supposed to get better with time. Easier, I guess," she said quietly beside him.

Jon looked at her, brow crinkled. "What?"

"Missing her."

He frowned at that, stared hard at the half-eaten yogurt held in her limp hand as she glanced out over the lawn.

She looked at him, and her eyes were blue, too. And maybe that was supposed to mean something, but it didn't. It didn't mean anything.

"You believe that?" he asked her.

She shrugged, an earnest look on her face. "It's what everyone says."

"Sure." He looked back to his hands linked between his knees, pressed the toes of his boots into the wood beneath him, just to feel it. "I guess."

"I'm sorry she's gone." She dipped her spoon back into her yogurt but just twirled the tip of it around languidly. She shook her head, and she looked so unbearably sad. Too sad for any seventeen-year-old to ever look. "I'm so, so sorry, Jon."

His tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth. "Yeah, me too."

Maybe she caught the quiver in his voice. Or maybe she'd just grown tired of playing with her yogurt, hands fiddling with the spoon. Fuck if he knew. But she looked at him then.

Jon turned to look out over the lawn where the lip of the sun had just begun to peak over the houses across the way. "I don't - " He caught the break before it could fully form, swallowed it down, tried again. "I don't really know how to talk about it," he admitted. Because it was true. "Not yet."

She gave it a moment, and then, "Okay." And he figured she'd leave then. But she didn't. Or maybe she just didn't know how. But he – he –

"Can you..." And then he looked at her again, caught sight of the new sun slanting over her face, and it was bright, too fucking bright, and she raised a hand up to shield her eyes, squinting at him, and he wanted to laugh again, but he didn't know how to make it not sound like crying. So he simply cleared his throat. "Can you just sit with me?"

Sansa's hand lowered, one eye still squeezed shut from the light, her mouth dipping into a frown. But it wasn't the sort of frown she'd always given him before, like the one she wore when he spilled soda over her homecoming dress, or the one she wore when Arya chose go-karting with him over swimming lessons with her, or even the one she wore when he punched Joffrey in the middle of the hall her sophomore year. No. This one was softer at the edges. And maybe it was just the morning light coming over the neighbors' roofs. Maybe it was just him being uselessly sentimental. But for some reason, her frown didn't bother him this time. Didn't bother him at all.

And damn. Was that supposed to happen?

Jon swallowed thickly, throat parched. "Will you just sit with me?" he managed again.

She set her yogurt on the step, forgotten. And then she braced her hands back on the porch ledge behind her, palms going flat over the wood. She nodded, the frown settling out into a thin, unassuming line. "I can do that," she said softly.

Jon took a breath, let it go. And then he was sure. Sitting there, staring at Sansa Stark at the ass crack of dawn, the day after his mother's funeral –

He was sure.

This was not supposed to happen.

But then, the morning passed, and so did the months, and one day Jon woke up and realized he was doing alright.

So no, he doesn't think his mother would begrudge him this happiness. Even though he misses her every damn day.

Benjen's hand on his shoulder now steadies him, and the merry-go-round of memories settles into a low hum in the back of Jon's mind. There'll be plenty enough time to get sentimental later. It's the Starks' annual cookout, after all. The first day of summer – when they stay up to the crack of dawn to greet the new season. It's got something to do with their family way back when or whatever. Making it through the night, a celebration of life, and all that cheese. Catelyn tried to explain it to him once but he was nine, and really, could she blame him for zoning out? Anyway, afterward, he'd just turned to Robb while they sat at the kitchen island, Catelyn pulling chicken nuggets out the oven for them, eyes wide as he whispered in awe, "She lets you stay up all night?"

Robb had nodded smugly, grabbing for the ketchup bottle with bravado, and after dinner at the Starks, Jon went home to beg his mother to let him join the party that year. She had an unofficial invitation herself for years, anyway. Why couldn't he?

Jon can now safely say that this annual cookout of theirs is the longest commitment he's ever made in his life.

"Your mother's in the kitchen," Ned tells Robb.

"Ooh, is she making deviled eggs?"

"When has she ever not made deviled eggs for this thing?" Theon interrupts.

Ned only offers up a hand and a raised brow in a gesture that easily says True. And then he's nodding back toward the front of the house. "Use the front door. You know how she is." He reaches for one handle of the cooler, Benjen already going round the other side.

"Yeah, yeah," Robb waves off. "Shoes off in the foyer and all."

Ned gives a smile, lifting then. "Why don't you boys try to give her a hand?"

Jon feels suddenly nauseated at the idea of traversing a kitchen where Catelyn Stark is wielding any kind of sharp cutlery. "Where are the girls?" he manages to gulp out.

Stupid gulp.

Ned shifts his knowing smirk his way. "Arya and Lyanna are somewhere about, I'm sure. Jeyne's at the store getting the grill meet with Sansa and Margaery."

Okay, so maybe his palms get suddenly sweaty, and maybe his jaw ticks, and maybe he gives a disinterested shrug (a very disinterested shrug, yes, very disinterested), but dammit, she wasn't supposed to be here this summer.

"Oh," he gets out.

Oh.

Like a fucking idiot.

"Jeyne's at the store?" Robb asks, brows furrowed.

Oh thank god for overprotective Robb. Jon feels infinitely less under the microscope when the collective attention shifts to him instead.

"What, does she plan on carrying that all back herself?" he asks, huffing.

Ned blinks at him. "Like I said, she's with Sansa and Margaery."

"She's nearly eight months, Dad."

Theon claps a hand on his shoulder. "Dude, she's pregnant, not incapacitated."

"You're gonna be incapacitated pretty soon, I swear to god."

Ned rolls his eyes at his son, hefting the cooler up with his brother on the other side. "Calm down, Robb. If you only knew some of the things your mother did when she was pregnant with you," he starts off, smile twisting.

Benjen barks a laugh at that. "Ned, do you remember when she – "

"Oh god, let's not do this, please," Robb groans, face pulled back into a grimace.

Ned just shakes his head, smile wide. "Go help your mother." And then the two older men shuffle off back into the yard, cooler and ice bags held between them.

Jon shoves his hands in his pockets, thumbs hooking at his belt loops. "So?"

Robb pulls his phone back out. "Give me a sec."

Theon throws his head back in a dramatic sigh.

But Jeyne picks up pretty quickly it seems, because Robb perks up instantly at the sound of her voice on the other end. "Jeyne, hey, babe. Dad said you were at the store?"

Jon pretends not to listen in.

Robb pouts. "We could have gotten it, babe. You know I brought Jon and Theon back today. You didn't have to – " He silences, pout turning into a slight purse of his lips. "Yeah, I know, but – " Another silence. He huffs. "Your feet aren't hurting?"

Jon grins wide at that, try as he might to smother it.

In a way, Robb and Jeyne have become a strange sort of model for Jon these last years. Not a bar, per se, but an example, at least. That much, at least, for sure. It's one of the things that threw his relationship with Ygritte into such stark perspective. Where their relationship was enduring, his was combustible. Where theirs was comfort, his was a trial. Where theirs was honest and open, his felt like a never-ending minefield.

And now: "Your feet aren't hurting?"

Jon wants to laugh. It's such a simple, unloaded question. But Robb may as well have said 'I'm in love with you' and it'd have meant the same thing.

So yeah. Not a bar. But a hell of a lot closer than he's ever gotten to it himself.

Theon lets out an impatient groan at Robb's phone call. Robb only glares at him. "Okay, babe. Yeah. That's fine. But wait, uh, can you pick up some of those chips I like? You know the ones. The onion thingies. The – yeah! Those! Get me some funyuns." He smiles blindingly. "Thanks, babe. Oh, and tell Sansa not to make you carry everything!" He stops, frowns. "I mean, it's not like she's – " Robb stops again, looking down. "Alright, I'm sorry, babe. Yeah. Yeah, okay. Love you, too. See you at home." He hangs up.

Theon immediately makes a whipping sound, gesture and all, a crooked smile breaking over his features, and if Jon hadn't valued his life so much, he might have done similarly. As it is, Robb is only trying to strangle Theon at the moment, which is fine by him.

"Sansa's coming?"

There. He said it. He asked.

Not so fucking difficult, after all.

Robb stops his attempt at throttling Theon to look over at Jon. "Of course, she's coming. It's the annual Starkfest." He gives him a disbelieving face.

Jon's brows hit his hairline. "I'm sorry, the what?"

"Starkfest."

Jon shakes his head as though clearing his ears. "Yeah, still didn't get that."

"Come on, doesn't it sound epic?"

"Sounds lame as fuck to me," Theon pipes up.

"That's your problem, Theon. You think your opinion matters."

Theon gives Robb a dramatically wounded look, hand to his heart. "Oh spare me, cruel viper."

Robb throws his hands in the air. "What? Bran likes it."

Theon drops his hand from his chest. The look, too. "I'm sorry, but Bran is most definitely not the measurement of coolness here. What are you on?"

"I think Bran's cool," Jon says on a shrug, hands still in his pockets.

"Okay, you've forfeited your right to speak in this convo," Theon says.

"Oh come on," Robb says. "'Starkfest' is perfect."

"I thought she was staying at Margaery's this summer," Jon says before his courage can fail him.

And fuck, are his palms still sweating? Jon bites off a growl of frustration at himself. Fuck that shit.

Robb blinks at him. "What, Sansa?"

Jon nods. Maybe because he's afraid of saying more.

"Yeah, she is, but she's not missing the cookout. Brought Margaery, too. They've been staying at the house for like, four days now. Heading back south tomorrow though. I hear they're going to a concert down in White Harbor before they get back to Marg's."

Jon furrows his brows at that. "She's leaving tomorrow?"

Robb nods.

"She's not staying up with you guys?"

Robb waves him off. "Ah, don't worry about it. She never made it to sunrise before, anyway. Always passed out at least an hour or two away. She'd probably appreciate the sleep more, actually," he shrugs out.

Jon purses his lips. "Right."

And all at once, he's wondering if she still keeps her hair long. If she still carries that dragonfly keychain on her phone. If she still pulls at the edge of her skirt when she's nervous.

If she still hates him for last winter.

Jon clears his throat, nodding back toward the front of the house. "Your dad said Arya was in?"

Robb smiles at him, thankfully oblivious to his desperate change of subject. "Yeah, she's not taking summer classes this year. Come on."

And then they're making their way back across the front lawn. Jon still takes care to avoid Mrs. Stark's zinnias.

He wonders, briefly, if Robb isn't the only whipped one here, but he doesn't think too long on it.

They're just fucking zinnias anyway. So maybe he just cares too much about the things he shouldn't. Attaches to things that give no promise of attachment back. And damn, there's some psycho-analytic bullshit somewhere in that mess, if he looks hard enough, but he doesn't.

He's gotten pretty good at loving the transient, after all.

Sansa Stark shouldn't be any different.

It's not really something that needs another look, he finds. Not then. And not now.

They make it to the front door before he can linger long on it, and then Robb is jiggling his key into the lock, and then he's pushing the door open, and then he's hollering Arya's name into the open foyer. Something about it sends Jon to beaming.

Home.

He's home.

Thunder seems to come down the stairwell. Jon looks up to find it's Arya. He barely opens his arms in time. She launches herself at him, jumping into his arms, winding her legs around him.

"Jon!" she cries, ecstatic.

And oh fuck!

"Arya, fuck, my back! My back!" Jon nearly crumples from her attack, stumbling against the end of the stairwell. "Holy shit, get off me," he chokes out beneath her bone-crushing hug.

She slips from him effortlessly, huffing a strand of hair out of her face. "Old man," she grouses, punching at his shoulder with affection. She grins up at him, crooked and earnest.

He softens at the sight. "You're getting too old for that."

Arya rolls her eyes. "Or you're just getting all rickety."

"That's my vote," Theon says at his side. He opens his arms wide for Arya with an expectant smile.

"Ew," she deadpans, one hand settling at her hip.

"Missed you too, runt," he says, ruffling her hair.

"Oh fuck off, Theon." She shoves his hand away, but he just brushes further into the house.

"The boys back from school yet?" he asks into the open foyer.

Bran suddenly crosses the threshold travelling from the dining room into the den with his face almost adhered to his phone. "It's summer break, dumbass." He promptly disappears around the corner.

Theon plants his hands on his hips. "Ah, that's a yes, then."

"Hey, babe, your Dad wants you and Rickon to help get all the pool stuff out of the shed," Lyanna Mormont says then, coming down the hall toward them before sidling up beside Arya with a hand at her waist.

Arya swings an arm around her shoulder. "Lyanna, you remember my brothers," she says, motioning to the three in the doorway.

"Unfortunately." Lyanna grimaces, and it makes her already dour face even more so. And yet, her hand at Arya's waist is tender, her glance toward her girlfriend softened somewhat, and Jon has learned by now to keep his smile in check.

He watches Arya's hand curl around Lyanna's shoulder and wishes for nothing else in that moment but many more such years ahead of them.

"Good to see you're still in high spirits, Lyanna," Robb smiles brilliantly at her.

"Yeah, well, you're not my brothers, thank god, soooo," she smacks her lips, turning to Arya. "Babe, you gotta get Rickon."

And just like that, the moment is shattered. Jon heaves a sigh.

"Rickon!" Arya yells up the stairwell behind Lyanna's head.

"Arya, what the fuck?" she snaps, hand to her ear.

She shrugs down at her girlfriend. Footsteps thump at the upstairs landing. "What?" an annoyed voice calls down, only a pair of socked feet in view as Jon cranes his neck up the stairs without success.

"Dad wants you."

"I'm not falling for that again."

"Fine," she says, shrugging, steering Lyanna into the kitchen. "But the boys are here."

Silence for a beat, and then the socked feet take a few cautious steps down, and Rickon's head pops out beneath the second floor obscuring the rest of the stairs. His eyes go wide. Smile, too. "Jon!" he beams, bounding down.

And fuck, it's a man coming down the stairs now, not some socked feet or a boy he remembers, but a fucking beast of a man. Jon teeters back, shooting straight from his lean. "Rickon?" he asks, eyes wide.

The boy – man – jumps the last three steps and comes hurtling toward him, arms wide. Jon opens reflexively, afraid he'll be mauled otherwise, and Rickon slams into him, rocking him with his hug. It warms something instantly in Jon, even if the teenager's head now sits higher than his own. He frowns at that a moment, pulling back to look at him.

Theon claps a hand on his shoulder. "Shit, Rickon, what have you been eating?"

Rickon smiles down at Theon.

Holy shit, he's smiling down at Theon, Jon realizes in horror. And then he squints at Rickon's chin. "What is this peach fuzz?" he laughs, letting the boy go, fingers flicking at his baby beard.

Rickon slaps his hand away good-naturedly. "You've been gone too long, man."

"Clearly."

"No hug for me?" Robb asks with a mock pout.

Rickon levels him with a dead stare. "You were literally here this morning."

"Doesn't mean I don't miss you," he croons, looping an appendage around Rickon's neck and tugging him into his chest.

"Oh god, no, stop it!"

"Come here," Robb smooches, wrestling with him through the hallway toward the back of the house. Rickon's protests drown out somewhere past the hallway bathroom.

The smile comes easy and wide along Jon's face.

Home, he reminds himself.

No take-backs.

#jonsa #jonsa fic #jon snow #sansa stark #red curtain #modern jonsa #my writing #got fanfic

[skywillsometimeswrite]

Grian's Awful Horrible No Good Very Bad Day

Read it on AO3

Grian has not had a very good day, let alone week, and he is at the end of his rope. He hasn't slept well, he has little inconvenient injuries that won't heal from respawn for some reason, and he can't keep his thoughts in order. He is about to break but he refuses to let that happen. 

Grian was tired. He was tired. He was sore. And he was covered in undoubtedly numerous new scars that he hadn’t taken the time to care for. He was just done, really. He wanted to lay down and sleep for the next week, except even that would be unrestful cause both of his main sleeping areas were either surrounded by loud villagers or a loud pesky bird that demands more and more food from him every day.

He let his eyes rest for a split second too long while flying, gravity taking hold of him in the narrow corridor of the temporary Nether “hub.” He yelped, rolling and getting tangled up in his artificial wings as he ungracefully scraped against the rough netherrack. He let himself lay there in an uncomfortable ball and he glared at the red rock around him with a hatred he had never quite had for it before and was sure wouldn’t last. When he finally stood back up he gave the wall a swift kick, gritting his teeth at how the vibration reverberated up his leg. With a grumble he entered the portal to the shopping district.

On any other day, the nauseous swirling effect of the portal would not have bothered him, but today it felt like another thing that just added onto his ever growing migraine. Add on the bright sun of the Overworld and he was tempted to jump off the platform so he could respawn in his bed and sleep the rest of the day away, his items be damned. But, fortunately or unfortunately you decide, Grian was too stubborn to do that and when he stepped off the platform he glided gracefully to the ground, for once not tripping over his own feet.

Rubbing at his drooping eyes Grian lazily looked around the shopping district, trying to remember what on Earth he came here for. His eyes landed on his barge and he couldn’t suppress the groan that rose as he was reminded once again how much he had to do for it. Sure, he was making tons of diamonds from it, but now that gravel was a hundred times easier to get that means he would have to find something new to stock. Not to mention how much he already has to restock since he’s been neglecting it in favor of his other projects. That’s the part he misses about Sahara the most, not all the work fell on him. If he needed help, at least he could ask Iskall or Mumbo.

Sighing he dragged his feet onto the uneven, rocking floor that was his shop and began checking the chests, slowly making a list on his communicator of things he needed to restock as well as things that weren’t selling. He was pulling the last of the diamonds from the TNT barrel when it hit him. He wasn’t in the shopping district to deal with his barge, he needed Impulse to break the nether roof for him.

Slightly reinvigorated at this realization, and the idea of getting out of one overwhelming project and into a more manageable one, he flew out of the top and up into the sky. He surveyed the island beneath him, looking for some sort of obvious landmark that would dictate a bedrock shop. Squinting against the sun, he didn’t see anything stand out so he glided downward, circling and trying to see if there was anything he didn’t know what it was.

After about ten minutes of circling the shopping district he aimed to land on one of the billboards that had popped up on the island, but when one foot landed the other caught his heel and he went tumbling off the back. He held his arms out, trying to cushion his fall the best he could, but all he managed to do was end up in a scraped up heap with a throbbing wrist held to his chest. He bit his lip as the pain of his wrist (despite not being nearly the worst pain he’s felt all day), his frustration of trying to find this stupid shop, and just the overall stress of the past week started to finally spill over and tears pooled in his eyes. 

He tried everything to push them back, to blink them away, to close his eyes and wait for them to leave. He took deep breaths, embracing the sight of nothing for a few blissful moments as he pushed the weight of everything away. Like this he could almost enjoy the slight breeze of the ocean, or the pungent smell that he had learned to be a hybrid of mycelium and grass, or how nice it felt to just lay on his back and close his eyes, even if he wasn’t necessarily comfortable.

“Grian?” His eyes snapped open and he stared right into brown ones of his mustached friend. Mumbo was bent at an almost exact 90 degree angle, looming over Grian with an eyebrow raised in a mix of confusion and concern. “You alright mate? You seem to have a little something here.” 

Grian felt the spot on his cheek that Mumbo had indicated on his own and hissed at the slight twinge of pain that came with the poke. Withdrawing his hand he saw his dirt covered hand with a hint of red and winced at the sight. Another scar to add to his collection this week, it seemed. And of course it was on his face. He sighed, unfocusing his eyes to a point of the sky past Mumbo’s head.

Mumbo stood up straight, his eyes still fixed on Grian. Grian didn’t have nearly enough energy to try and figure out what the taller man’s thoughts were, and he was still quite enjoying laying in the grass. His mind had fully zoned out, and he didn’t register the fact that Mumbo must have been speaking, his voice mingling with the breeze. He only started paying attention again when Mumbo tried to pull him up by tugging on his sprained wrist.

“Ow! What the hell?” Grian’s voice was high, pulling his wrist away from Mumbo far too quickly to roughly land on his back and causing him to cough a few times to catch his breath.

“Oh! Sorry, Grian. I didn’t- are you okay? I just thought you were tired or, or I don’t know. You weren’t answering me and so I thought I’d just-”

He really hoped Mumbo would just leave him alone after this, but he didn’t seem so lucky as his friend kneeled down beside him. “Grian, is everything alright? What happened to your wrist? Heck, what happened to all of you?” He waved his hand up and down to gesture to Grian’s body.

“I get it. It’s fine. Sorry I didn’t answer you.” He didn’t mean to snap at Mumbo, but he couldn’t get much else past his gritted teeth as he sat up, cradling his wrist to his chest once again. He took a few deep breaths to calm his returning and ever-rising stress. It wasn’t Mumbo’s fault. The last thing you need to do is yell at him.

He didn’t look up to meet Mumbo’s gaze, instead staring down at his chest and his probably swollen wrist that was bent in a very uncomfortably looking way. The longer he stared, he started to notice what Mumbo must be referring to. His jumper looked more brown than red at this point, tears in the fabric revealing the once white undershirt underneath. If that’s what his clothes looked like, he could only imagine what his face and hair must look like.

He really was a mess, huh?

With a sigh he glanced through the unwashed strands of his even dirtier blonde hair to look at Mumbo’s face. “I’m just… having a rough day, is all.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

Grian felt his head shrink into the neck of his sweater at the question. He didn’t do talking. Not like this. He was happy-go-lucky Grian that was always playing pranks on people or setting up fun events for everyone. He was never angry or upset unless it was in response to a prank he no doubt deserved, and even then that was all in good fun. He remembers Ren trying to get him to open up to him as hippies, saying it was great to get things off your chest every now and then. But Grian just… couldn’t. He dealt with his negative emotions on his own for years, thank you very much, and he could continue to do it for as long as he needed to.

So he shook his head, using his good wrist to push himself up. He took one more steadying breath and moved to take one step past Mumbo. “No, no. I’m fine, Mumbo, don’t worry about-” His words were cut off by a high-pitched yelp as he stepped on his elytra, the straps around his chest pulling him painfully backwards. He would have fallen over again if Mumbo hadn’t caught him and kept him somewhat upright.

“You were saying?”

“You’re okay.” Grian blinked a few times. “Swears let out stress. At least, I’m pretty sure they do. Doc mentioned something about that a few years back to me when he was helping me with a redstone project. I was getting really, really frustrated and he told me to just… let it out! And I did, and it felt great.” Mumbo’s smile was blindingly bright as he walked over and placed his hands on Grian’s shoulders. “If you need to get something out, just do it. No one else is around.”

Grian dropped his facade, face drooping into a small scowl at his recent fortune. “Okay, maybe I’m not fine. But I don’t need to talk about it, okay? Now if you’ll excuse me I need to go find Impulse’s fucking bedrock shop.” He pushed himself off of Mumbo’s shoulder, taking a few steps away from his friend before he realized exactly what he said. He glanced back to see Mumbo’s wide eyes and internally scolded himself. He hasn’t cursed that openly in years. He hasn’t been this upset in years, either. And it’s all over such stupid stuff. God, he’s an idiot. “Ah, I’m sorry, Mumbo I didn’t mean to-”

Grian looked around, noticing the setting sun in the distance. Other than a few stray villagers from Stress’ campaign, Mumbo was right. They were the only hermits in the shopping district. He glanced once more at Mumbo’s face, contemplating it, but ultimately shook his head.

“No, I, I’m fine. Well, I’m not, I won’t lie to you, but I don’t need to ‘get anything out’ or anything.” A tight smile appeared as he avoided eye contact. “I-I haven’t cursed like that in ages, and I don’t exactly want to fall back into that old habit.”

“You used to curse?”

“Like a sailor.”

Mumbo’s laugh was bright before he cut himself off with a hand over his mouth, his eyes betrayed his amusement, though. “Sorry, that’s just really hard to imagine. I don't think I’ve ever seen you genuinely upset, let alone angry enough to swear.”

Grian found himself smiling despite himself. “Yeah, well, I’ve gotten a better hold of my emotions before I came here. I would get pissed off-” he covered his mouth quickly as he realized his wording, groaning slightly before he continued with muffled words. “-I would get angry at very little annoyances.”

Mumbo snickered at him, leading him with a friendly arm over his shoulder to a hill nearby they could sit on and watch the setting sun. “Quite the gentleman you are now then, huh?”

“I try to be.” He shrugged, letting himself fall roughly onto the dirt beneath him with a grunt. 

Mumbo gave him a softer, concerned glance, resting his head on his hand. “So are you going to tell me what’s wrong or not?”

Grian let the question stir inside his mind as he picked at some grass that was trying to poke through the hillside. After a few moments he answered with a reserved grumble: “I’ve already told you what’s wrong.”

“You’re not seriously this worked up over Impulse’s shop, are you? And what about all your cuts and bruises? Your wrist? Not to mention you are never this clumsy; I almost mistook you for me a moment ago with you bumbling over yourself.”

Once again Grian sunk into his jumper. He looked up at the darkening sky and how the soft lights of the shopping district began illuminating the area. Something about the peacefulness of it all and Mumbo’s comforting presence made the overwhelming feelings come back. He tried to bury his face in his hands, but doing so only made his wrist sting and get dirt in his eyes and the more he tried to rub it out the more irritated they became and then the more irritated he became too. 

And so what if he was worked up about not being able to find Impulse’s shop? Impulse should make it more obvious where it is if he wants any customers! And if the land in the shopping district was taken better care of maybe he would have landed softer. And maybe if everyone had put more time and thought and effort into making a better nether hub then running off to explore everything than he wouldn’t have fallen and scratched himself up on the netherrack. And maybe… And maybe…

“Grian, Grian, it’s okay. Breathe. I’m sorry, you don’t have to talk about it.”

Mumbo’s voice was a knife through the spiralling mess that was Grian’s thoughts. He took a gulping breath of air and pulled his hands from his face, only to realize his face was freezing, but why- oh, he was crying. Fantastic. Exactly what he needed. He was holding himself together so well until Mumbo came along and just had to be a good friend and check up on him.

A sob shook his body as he curled in on himself, hugging his knees. Mumbo seemed to stutter for a moment, unsure of what to do, but eventually settled on gently wrapping Grian up in his arms. He reminded Grian to breathe as his thoughts kept forcing him to forget such an important thing out of his mind. Something far more important than all these stupid suffocating thoughts-

“Grian, you’re okay. It’s okay. Whatever’s got you worked up, I’m sure we can fix it.”

Mumbo’s gentle, comforting words seemed to have the opposite effect on Grian. Because it wasn’t. He couldn’t. He shouldn’t. This was Grian’s problem, not Mumbo’s. It was Grian’s problem that he couldn’t handle all of his projects, it was Grian’s problem that he couldn’t watch where he was going, it was Grian’s problem that everywhere he tried to sleep was either too loud or too dangerous.

“No!” He tries to yell, but it only comes out as a croak in his closed throat as he rips away from Mumbo’s hug to stumble out into the small grassy-mycelium clearing. His hands were balled into fists as he rubbed his eyes with his good arm, trying to get the frustrating tears to stop fucking flowing.

“No?” 

“No! You can’t fix it. These are my problems! And they aren’t even problems! They’re just me being stupid, or not paying attention, or complaining and all I’m doing is blaming everyone else for my own dumb assery, which isn’t fair, but god dammit if it doesn’t get on my nerves! Like this fucking shop! I just need help to get rid of one, one, shitty bedrock block so I can stop hitting every single fucking overhang that could exist in the god damn nether. But I can’t. Fucking. Find it! And that’s not Impulse’s fault, not really, but it’s so tempting to blame him for it because I haven’t slept in five days because my fucking villagers are too noisy and Professor Beak acts like I don’t feed him and I can’t fly straight anymore and I’m pretty sure it’s fucking up my respawn because I’ve died at least fifteen times within the last 24 hours I’m sure--I haven’t exactly been keeping count, but I know it’s a lot--and I’m so sore and tired and I won’t regen naturally anymore and I’m pretty sure I have, like, twelve new scars that I have no clue if they’re gonna heal. I-I mean, I should probably go see Stress or even maybe Scar about it but they don’t need to worry about this because it’s my own fucking fault for being so god damn stupid and I just… I just…” He slumped down again, his legs giving out beneath him and letting him fall on his butt. He had given up trying to stop the tears at this point. “I’m just so tired but I can’t stop or I’ll get behind. But I feel like I’m barely moving forward.”

He let himself fall backwards on the grass, feeling his elytra crumple beneath him. He sniffled. “Motherfucker!” He slammed his fists into the ground and whimpered, holding his injured wrist once again to his chest. “Fuck…”

The air next to him shifted as Mumbo took a seat. When Grian dared to glance at his friend, Mumbo’s eyes and smile were soft. “How do you feel now?”

Letting out a shaky breath he closed his eyes and considered the question. Physically he still felt awful, like he could fall asleep right here and now, but mentally, well, he was still tired, but there was a lot less fog. “Better. A little bit.”

“Told ya it works.”

Mumbo’s smug tone was enough to cause Grian to burst into wet laughter, new tears streaming down his face as he weakly swung a punch at Mumbo’s knee. “Shut up. And don’t you dare tell anyone about this. I have a reputation to uphold.”

“Sure you do. Y’know, Xisuma used to swear all the time. Keralis did too. Actually, almost everyone did. I don’t know when we all started caring about that.”

“Sorry, but I can’t physically imagine X, let alone Keralis, saying ‘fuck.’” He giggled at the thought, wiping away the last of the tears that remained in his eyes.

“It is quite funny to think about nowadays. Although, I’d argue Keralis is easier to believe.”

They carried on like that for a couple minutes before Grian’s exhaustion finally caught him with his guard down. Mumbo didn’t know how long his friend would be asleep for, but he’d be there when he woke up. Then maybe, just maybe, he could convince him to let him help.

#work: grian's awful horrible no good very bad day #has a lot of cursing #sky's writing week challenge #its late but i wrote this all in one go #this isn't what i meant to write today #hermitcraft fics #hermitcraft #grian fic #grian #mumbo jumbo #yes i get it it's grian angst 850 but listen i was filled with inspo and I wanted to let this poor man let off some steam #sky writes

[shark-from-the-park]

FIC: The Fitzier of It, Episode One

A Fitzier The The Thick Of It AU in several parts.

So, I finally decided to start posting this long-ass fic and see what people think. You don’t need to have seen The Thick of It to get this. It’s just sweary political satire as a thinly veiled excuse to have James crush on Francis. Dedicated to @casperthefriendlylittlefan for constant cheerleading, encouragement and brainstorming, and for encouraging me to use my place-holder title for the fic instead of some pretentious thing.

Warnings for very bad language, frequent Britishisms, and Blanky. Also, this is still a WIP. Will be posted on AO3 when complete.

@casperthefriendlylittlefan @boisinberryjamarama @what-a-terrorific-mess @coffeesugarcream @hereliesnils @itisa-profoundbond-sarandom @the-jewish-marxist @cinemaocd @jaredharrisankles @thegreenmeridian - please PM me to be tagged in future installments/untagged/to ask questions/to say hi, etc. My love to all in the Fitzier fandom.

Episode One

“Look Francis…  There’s no need to be so coy with me.  I’m just saying that when you do finally announce this Westminster’s-worst-kept-secret leadership bid, you’re going to fucking need me on side, whether you want to admit it or not! Francis, Francis, for Christ’s sake, are you even listening to me?”  James felt the irritation that was so specific to Francis Crozier crawling along his spine and scraping across the breadth of his shoulder blades as the older man turned his face away from him.  

“You know Tom, I miss the days when acquaintances would address me as ‘Minister’.” Francis addressed his chief political aide as though James was not even in the room.  

“Aye, them were the days.  Respect, n’all that.”  Grinned Tom Blanky, flanking Francis on his left side like a gangster’s hired muscle, while hulking, sullen-faced Ed Little did his strong, silent thing on his right.  

Furious, James chose to ignore the two henchmen completely.

“Fucking hell, Francis, you’re an ignorant bastard!  Are you really going to piss all over an olive branch when it’s handed to you?!  Just give me a fucking clue, alright?  You know, animal, vegetable, mineral.  Give me something to fucking work with here.  You owe me at least a brave fucking coming out story just to make up for the fucking cardigans, you -”

“’E’s talking about your cardigans again, Frank.”  Blanky stage whispered, his eyes twinkling.  

“Obsessed, I’d call it.”  Rumbled the human boulder that was Ed Little from Francis’s other side.

“James, I’m ancient and boring and serious about political reforms.  The electorate doesn’t give a flying fuck who I’m shagging or not shagging.”  Francis sniped across the desk at him, his lip curling in that disdainful way he had.

James had heard colourful swearing out of Francis on innumerable occasions.  The Irishman was legendary for his biting turns of phrase.  But there was something about hearing him say the word ‘shagging’, and twice in one sentence no less, that made James fingers fumble with his expensive stainless steel clipboard, almost dropping it.  

Tom Blanky’s shrewd and mocking eyes caught on James’ momentary discomfort at once, and the Yorkshireman smiled to himself.

James saw red.

“I give a flying fuck who you’re shagging, you Stalinist loon!”  He shouted, and knew that he’d worded that wrong when three pairs of eyebrows rose laconically in response and a cacophony of titters could be heard from the shared office outside.  

“Brave of yer to just come out with it like that.”  Opined Blanky.

James threw one of his prized Paperchase paper-clips at him and it hit him squarely in the temple.  

“Francis, you’re not thick enough to really believe that the electorate won’t care about your personal life, are you?  They already care about what you wear.  They care about how stupid you look riding a bike.  They care about your bad hair cut and where you do your weekly shop.  Of course they’ll care that you’re into men.  Or both.  Or whatever it is that you’re into.  I’m just pre-empting the conversation for when you announce and inevitably want to hire me.”

Francis sneered at him crookedly.  “Are you really so keen to jump ship from Sir-Just-Left-of-Centre, James?”

“Oh for God’s sake, Francis, who’d you think sent me?  Sir John’s imminent resignation is the second worst kept secret in Westminster.”

“So it’s his olive branch I’m pissing on, then, and not yours...”

James hated him and his stupid, ruddy face.

“Do you want to be the next Prime Minister of Great Britain and Northern Ireland or not, you bolshy, gap-toothed wanker?”  He yelled across the desk, a fine spray flying from his mouth.  

Thomas Jopson, junior minister and probably the sweetest human being who had ever entered politics, barged through the office door.

“James, you are well out of order!”  The young man exclaimed at a volume which James had never heard him achieve before.  

This had a remarkable effect on the four men in the room.  

Francis��s eyes instantly softened in a way James hadn’t been certain he was capable of.  Ed Little let his aggressively pointing finger drop to his side and closed his open trap.  Blanky slowly lowered the chipped mug he’d been aiming at James’ head and toned down his glower a fraction.  

James looked down at his exquisitely expensive, fashionable brogues.

“It was beneath me to mention your teeth, Francis.”  He admitted.

“None taken, you Oxbridge ponce.”  Francis muttered.  “But listen, you tell Sir Sell-out that if I need his help, I’ll send the prearranged signal, which is me stepping out into a taxi lane during rush hour.”

Ed Little snorted.  

James seethed.

“Oh how easy it must be to refuse honours when you’ve never been offered any.” He hissed through his teeth, trying desperately to tamp down on his disappointment.

“Or when you have principles.”  Francis shot back.  

James sighed in bitter resignation and rubbed his temples with one hand.

“Fine.  Good luck to you and your red cabal, Francis.  You’ll need it.”

He gathered what remained of his dignity and left Francis’s office, ignoring the stares and murmurs from the assorted aides and secretaries sat at the desks outside as he made his way over to the lift.  

Huffing in frustration, he turned to deliver one last glare at the bunch of Bolshevik wankers, only to nearly jump out of his skin when he found Tom Blanky perched on the nearest hot desk, regarding him with an inscrutable look.  

James had no idea how a man with a bad leg could move so stealthily.  

Blanky brandished the paper-clip which James had just thrown at him.  It was pink and in the shape of an arrow.  One of James’ favourites.  

“I’m keepin’ this.”  The Yorkshireman said with a cryptic grin, sliding the paper-clip triumphantly onto the hem of his shirt pocket.  

James opened his mouth for a retort, but found that he had nothing, and so stepped, utterly defeated, into the now open doors of the lift.  

*****

“So, go on then. How was your parley with Red Frank and his terrors?”  Dundy asked him with a gleeful glint, as they sipped triple shot lattes in Cafe Nero the next morning.  

“Like being shot at at close range by the cast of Auf Wiedersehen, Pet.” James mumbled unkindly.  

Dundy laughed delightedly at him around a mouthful of biscotti.  “Well.  What did you expect.  You haven’t exactly made an effort to be friendly with him before.  He’s not just going to roll over the first time you pat his head, is he?”

“Can we dispense with the dog metaphors, Dundy, for fucks sake?”  James was in no mood to rehash yesterday’s failure, even with his closest friend.  

Dundy, as ever, blundered on regardless.  “Look.  He’s already got advisors. Such as they are.  He’s got the grass-roots, and he’s the only candidate with a consistent political record.  He’s bound to be a bit cocky right now.  You just need to hop down off your gilded pony and come down to his level if you want to actually...”

“Wise words from the working class hero over here...”  Snorted James inelegantly.  

“Fitz, you know exactly what I’m saying...”

“Of course I know what you’re saying!  It’s not just that he’s our only chance, it’s that he’s the best chance the party’s had in a while…  I do get it.  Politics is changing and we’ve got to change with it or we’ll find ourselves completely out of the loop.  Francis does have the support.  And I suppose he’s got a certain sort of… mass appeal.  He’s got... natural authority, I mean…  But these bastards...”  James shoved at the pile of broadsheets in front of them.  “Are going to completely tear him apart.  He doesn’t see it yet, Dundy, but he needs me!  And I’m trying this time!  I actually tried!  I actually want to help the cranky Irish bastard.”

Dundy demolished the last of his biscotti and then started chewing thoughtfully on James’ croissant.  

Occasionally, James knew, his long-time colleague would deliver some glimmer of wisdom, so he waited patiently for it.  

“You know Fitz, I knew you’d drunk the red koolaid.  Seen it coming for a while now. But you have to admit, it’s more than that.  You don’t just admire the ginger twat.  You actually fancy him.”

James felt not a smidgen of guilt, after, for spraying a mouthful of lukewarm coffee over Dundy’s smug face.  

*****

“Your latest cardigan’s gone over well with millennials on twitter, Francis.” Ed Little informed them in a tone which was as bright as the big man ever accomplished.  

“Just what I always wanted, Edward.  To be a fashion icon.”  Francis gave him a wry smile.  

“I bet Fitzjames is a fan too, Frank.”  Blanky grinned from across the room. “Sadly, you’re still catching some heat in the broadsheets for our CND stance.”

“Guess I’ll just change my mind about the threat of mutually assured annihilation then...”  Francis winked at Blanky before diving back to drafting his speech.  

“We will sort of have to work with Fitzjames eventually though, won’t we?”  Ed intoned glumly, as though carrying on from a previous conversation.  

Francis met Blanky’s eye.  “Of course we will.  Our options are thin on the ground.” He sighed.  

“But we’ll definitely make the posh bugger sweat first.”  Blanky added, with relish.  

*****

Episode Two here...

#fitzier #the thick of it AU #jimmy fitz is in love #the fitzier of it #fic

[etraytin]

Quarantine, Day 128

July 17

Tonight it rained very hard around 6:30, not for long, but long enough to be very dangerous for kittens who live in a fucking storm drain. The kiddo and I went out in the worst of the rain to the drugstore parking lot, just hoping that the storm drain hadn't flooded out, or that we'd be able to see where they were. The drain didn't flood out, but it did have a lot of water going into it, and we didn't see any kittens. I did a long slow pass around the whole strip mall, looking for any sign of them in bushes or behind fences. By the time we got back to the drain the rain was already letting up and I was able to spot one gray tabby kitten just inside the drain. I put out some food and we watched. Eventually two gray tabby kittens came up and ate, and then the mama raced over across the grass from wherever she had been that was not the storm drain. She gave me the stink-eye, ignored the food and disappeared down the tunnel part of the drain. I didn't see her again, or the third gray tabby kitten or the tuxie kitten. Right now we're just hoping for the best and trying to make trapping arrangements before it rains again. Sometimes rescue kinda sucks. 

I stopped by the rescue today and got new food for Barry and Bixby, plus Barry's new eye meds. His eye is looking very good and he is being a dollbaby about letting me rub ointment on his eyes twice a day. I swear, there might be a little clear discharge coming from one of his eyes, but after dealing with Latte and Jackie who were both nearly blind before I started eye medication on them, it's practically unnoticeable. I talked with the rescue coordinator about what we're going to do with them while I'm at the wedding, and we went over a few possible scenarios. It's looking most likely that I will send them to a higher-traffic household for the ten days we are gone, sort of a step-up foster to get them ready for the kitten room at the shelter. My quiet and peaceful kitten room is exactly what neonates need to grow and thrive, but to go from that straight into the controlled chaos of the shelter would probably be too much of a shock. This will give them enough time for Barry to get fixed and for both of them to get used to more noise, action and animals. They should do well. Fingers crossed! 

We _still_ have not heard yet what's going to happen at the start of the school year. I got another email from the school division saying that they were still working on it but hadn't finalized things, then laying out the 1:1 technology plan for the year. Basically every student needs a device of some sort for the school year. Littles get iPads, mediums get Chromebooks, bigs get laptops. You either send your kid with their own device that you already have, pay 50 dollars to rent one and be completely responsible if anything happens to it while it is transported back and forth (assuming schools open), or you can take the worst of both worlds and buy one from their vendor. I took a look at the "discounted price" for the Chromebook they offered, 327 dollars. For a fucking Chromebook for a ten year old. The actual honest-to-god laptop we bought him for Chri-birthday this year cost less than that. The Chromebook I got my husband for Christmas (we had a lot of end of year computer disasters last year) cost half that. My laptop I'm using now is one I purchased at a school district surplus auction, wiped and refurbished myself, it cost 60 dollars and I've been using it for three years. What kind of universe do school administrators live in, and can I get paid enough to live there too? I know we make maybe half of the average family income for our area, but we are not the poorest people in the school district. What are they supposed to do? 

In other news, the day old bread store does not appear to be selling tortillas anymore, a fact that makes me very sad. Tortillas are a staple of our cuisine around here, and not being able to get them for a dollar a bag is going to crimp my style some. I was hoping to get some today to use for extremely inauthentic beef carnitas made out of some leftover roast beef, but now I either need to put them on the Walmart list or make my own. It's still better than back in March though, when I ventured out to the day-old bread store and found walls of empty shelves, a handful of snack cakes, and maybe twenty loaves of the cheapest white bread offered at full retail price. I think that may have been the most visceral "there is something seriously wrong with the world" moment that I had before the schools actually closed down. (And yes, I bought a couple loaves of bread that day.) Today I was able to get bread, hotdog buns, cinnamon raisin bread, and any of a couple dozen types of sliced loaf bread, but no tortillas. I suppose I can always make my own, even though I still can't get any damn yeast. 

One more week until our trip. I am hoping that if we get our COVID tests done on Monday we'll have results by Saturday, but who even knows anymore? At least we are all feeling good and healthy, knock on wood. 

#quarantine #baking #back to school #feral kittens

[srprincess]

Fictober Prompt 11 “It’s not always like this.”

fandom - check please

Part 11 of the spookydooAU

Will pulled the truck up close to the house. Well, close as he could get with all the fallen tree limbs.

What had happened to this place, he wondered, getting out of the truck and surveying the mess.

The leaves weren't surprising. After all, they were into fall. Most people didn't even bother raking their camps with how the trees blocked any sun that would have grown grass. But the gutters overflowing? Porch being covered? Even the lattice at the bottom of the porch was half covered with the sort of trash that blew in when the less considerate tourists would hit the beach. Empty chip bags, food wrappers, water bottles and the like.

This was a ‘clear up at the season start’ sort of mess, not the kind you'd expect at a year long residence. And, between the fallen tree limbs and the random brush and twigs, there was wood everywhere except for on the log rack against the cottage, which looked near empty. No way to start the colder seasons.  

He was so distracted he didn't even realize Nursey had gotten out of the truck until he startled at his voice right beside him “Was there a big storm recently?”

Will shook his head. “Not for ages. Storms likely won’t hit the inner point hard for another month yet. Could you hold back here? Let me make a run round the house first.”

He grabbed a flashlight out of the cab before making his way around. There were a couple smaller trees downed in the back, one leaning against the house, but thankfully no broken windows. He really needed to stop back by in the light of day. See to those gutters at least, before she was replacing a roof. Clean up the trash. Maybe cut up and add the scattered branches to her woodpile.

Damn what a mess.  

This sort of mess didn’t pop up overnight, outside of the stormy season at least. And, like he had told Nursey, that hadn't even started yet. That meant all of this had to have been building up for a while. Surely she knew she could have asked for help, right?

 As he came back to the front of the house he saw Nursey with a plastic sack that he must have pulled out of the truck cab, filling it with the litter from the base of the porch. He grabbed another bag and joined him.

”Hope this was alright, ” Nursey held up the almost full bag.

”Oh yeah, I mean, thanks,”

”No problem, I felt weird just standing here.”

“Thanks just the same. You know It’s not always like this.” Will told him, tipping his head towards the debris while wondering if that was technically true. After all, when was the last time he had been here? He couldn't say exactly when, but it’d been a while. She just kind of showed up at his all the time. And with her place pushed back in the trees, even though he could see the shoreline, he didn't have a good view of the house. Maybe it had been bad for a while. He knew pride was a thing, but still. She could have asked and he would have been right over, no questions.

He was jarred out of his thoughts by Nursey shaking out a tangled wind chime, “Hey, isn’t this like yours?”

“Yeah, she makes them. Must have gotten knocked off its hook, blown loose or something. Probably should hang it back up. Spot me?” Will asked, already climbing on the porch rail near to one of the empty hooks and reaching back for the chime. A quick wipe to get rid of a spider web, and the chime was hanging again.

Will was grateful for the hands hovering around his hips when a movement, caught in the corner of his eye, had him spinning on the railing to face the house. Nursey’s quick grip helped turn what would have been an awkward backward fall into a, nearly graceful, hop back to the floor and into his arms.

”Did you see that?” Will asked, pulling loose from Nursey’s hold and trying, unsuccessfully, to peer through the dirty window.

”My sweet save?”

”No, idiot, the curtain. I swear it twitched.”  He knocked on the door, calling out, “Hello? Anyone home?” No answer. He didn’t think she would have stood in the house watching anyway, but he was so sure he saw something. Weird. He pressed his ear to the door, but couldn't hear any sounds of movement. Maybe it had just been a draft?

Will shrugged and hopped back off the porch. “If you want, I can finish up with this while you... I don't know, do whatever it is you do with that stuff in your duffel?”

“How about one more bag first? Like as a thanks for letting us come by. Maybe it will show the spirits I’m friendly and they’ll talk more, yeah?” Nursey reasoned.

“Sounds like nonsense but not like I’ll turn down a pair of hands right now soooo”

Will grabbed the floodlight he had out of the tool chest in the truck bed, hoping he’d remembered to charge it after the last time he used it. He gave a little cheer when he set it on the porch and it turned on. He flashed it in the direction of the lighthouse and watched to see a couple of smaller flashes back.

“Well, they haven’t gone in yet.”

“You know they’ll be thinking that was a ghost or something, right?” Nursey pointed out.

“Then I’ll be sure to do it a few more times before we leave,” Will joked. “Maybe wave it around like it’s floating.”

“Your mind. Evil!” Nursey said, “You would have been so much fun back at the Haus in school dude. The pranks we could have pulled.”

“I don’t know, I’m not much of a space sharer. Like keeping to myself.”

“Really? The grumpy lighthouse keeper isn't a people person? Shocking.” Nursey grinned, “Way to perpetuate a stereotype, dude.”

Will smirked back and flipped him off.

”We’d have worn you down, look what we’ve done in a couple days. Hanging out with the common people, causing scenes,” waving his hand towards the cottage, “trespassing after dark. You’re practically one of us.”

“Not hardly,” Will scoffed.

“One of us. One of us. One of us.” Nursey chanted.

“You are ridiculous.”

“Ridiculously charming?” Nursey asked, plucking a leaf from Will’s hair and handing it to him.

“Ridiculously obnoxious,” Will lied, wondering if it was dark enough to hide the blush on his traitorous face.

Nursey’s thoughtful look made him think it probably wasn’t. Damn. Probably didn’t help that he put the leaf in his pocket instead of tossing it to the ground? Why did he even do that? Like he was some preteen girl going to add it to a scrapbook or some shit? Ugh.  

“I’ll have to work on it then.”

“How about, instead of that, you work on whatever it is you think you're going to accomplish here tonight,” Will said as he plucked the full trash bag out of Nursey hands and took it over to the truck. Coming back he dropped the duffel at his feet. ”Don’t go too far, shout if you need me.”

Nursey gave a mock salute before pulling some things out and heading towards the tree line.

Will had finished picking up the trash before the first check-in calls came through. Listening in, it sounded like everything was going okay. Nothing big to report. Holster did ask about the lights, Nursey blowing him off with a ’maaaaybe’ and an ’I don't know’ with instructions to keep watching the coastline just in case. Will tried to keep his snort of laughter quiet enough to not be picked up.

He'd spent another 20 minutes trying to separate the scattered brush in trash, kindling, ’chop up for the pile’ later when the floodlight started to flicker. He cursed when it completely shut down. Not fully charged after all then. Damn.

He did have a spare but thought it better to save in case of emergency. And his flashlights and lantern were fine for walking around, but not so great for clearing a large area like this.

Figuring he should probably talk to her before doing much more anyway, he tossed the spent light into the truck cab, making a mental note to recharge it later, before catching up with Nursey.

 Seeing him behind a shrub Will quickly jumped towards him, grabbing Nursey’s sides, and yelled ”Did I miss anything?!”

”Fuck! You are the worst!” Nursey yelped and shoved back at him. ”God. Damn.” He blew out a breath before continuing, “Nothing yet. Before you tried to scare me half to death, I was about to take another walk around the perimeter and do some Q&A.”

”Q&A? Okay, but, ummm, I’m not sure what else I can tell you?”

”Not with you.” Nursey held up a recorder and explained, ”I’m going to ask some questions to whoever is out there, and see if I get anything back. I'm recording it so I can play it back louder. Then if there is something the others could hear it later too.”

”And what's that?” Will pointed to the small box Nursey held. It had a pair of square buttons with a small bulb next to each. One marked with a y and the other an n.

”This” Nursey answered proudly, ”is the Answer Machine. I invented it.  With some help from Chow. And supplies from Lardo. And naming by Jack.”

”Huh,” Will tilted his head, ”How does it work?”

”This is it's first time out but, in theory, if I ask a question and the spirit doesn't want to, or can’t, answer verbally a little pressure over the switch here will make the bulb above it light up. Green on the left for yes and red in the right for no.”

”So a flashy ouija?”

”No. An Answer Machine.”

”An answer machine is what used to take phone calls, that is - hold on.” Will addressed the box. ”Are you a poor man’s ouija gadget?” He clicked the left button and saw it light up green, ”Oh-hoh! What do we have here? Yes!”

“Smartass,” Nursey went to pull back his gadget when they were both startled by a crash at the porch. ”Wh-what was that?” he asked, shakily.

”Windchime’s down again.” Will said with a frown. ”Give me another hand?”

 He grabbed some string from the truck’s toolbox and rehung the chime. This time he wound the string around the hook and over the chime hanger to hold it more securely. He gave it a slight tug from side to side and it stayed hanging. Satisfied, he hopped back off the railing and he and Nursey returned to the equipment bag.

 ”Ready?” Nursey asked, as he started the recorder and handed it to Will.

When Will nodded, he flipped on the ’answer machine’ and started asking his questions, pausing between each. As he talked, they walked their way around the edges of the property closest to the house.

 ”Is anyone there?”

”Can you tell me your name?”

”How long have you been here?”

”Do you know what happened to you?”

”Did you tell anyone where you were going?”

”Or what you were doing?”

”Did you have any family?”

”Is there a message you want us to pass along?”

”If you can hear me, give me a sign.”

As the questions went on with no response, or least not one that he could hear or see, Will interrupted, ”This is so cheesy. You're basically talking to yourself in the dark. You get that, right?”

 Nursey just continued on, but louder. ”I’m here with Dex. You might have known his great grandfather. Is there anything you would like to tell him?”

Will pulled a face, and Nursey cracked up.

”What was that? A little louder?”

Will narrowed his eyes. He hadn't heard anything, still.

”Oh! You think his jacket clashes with those pants?”

Will growled and pounced.

Nursey choked out through his laughter, ”and the shoes are a disaster?” He was laying on the ground where he’d been tackled, but tried to roll away before adding, ”I agree but I meant about your disappearance?”

All of the sudden Will froze, staring at that stupid ’answer machine’, ”It's lit. What is that supposed to mean??”

Both the lights were lit up.

Nursey pulled himself sitting and shook the box. ”Maybe I hit the switches when I went down?”

He clicked them both off, but the red light clicked right back on. He clicked it off again, and then it stayed off.

 Will helped him to his feet, and they headed back towards the front of the house. Nursey repeating his earlier questions. He got as far as ”Is there a mess-” when he tripped over something in a pile of leaves.

The box went flying, green light lit this time. Suddenly the wind picked up, blowing harder than it had yet, nearly pulling the wind chime down again even with the extra reinforcements.

The walkie talkie app went off with Bitty’s voice yelling something, wind there too judging by the background noise, but neither of them were listening.

They were both staring at what Nursey had tripped over.

It was a rusting ‘For Sale’ sign from a real estate company in the city.

#fictober19 #omgcp #spookydoo au #nurseydex #i am absolutely NOT going to be done by the end of fictober because...tomorrow?!? #BUT I will still be working on this #promise! #thanks for all the reblogs/subscribes/comments/kudos/etc #you guys are the best!

[ctoastwrites]

vine isn’t a word anymore

"do.. not.. wait, no."

jemma was attempting to decipher a warning on a sign while alex inspected the nearby area for traps and cool things he could nab.

pastel stood close behind, listening to what jemma was saying.

robin had gone off in search of adventure.

pastel took notice of the absent lad and decided to go catch up to them, not mentioning she was leaving. she didn't want to distract jemma, and she could take care of herself!

"okay-" jemma mumbled, swiping away at the sign.

"be weary of the... beasts? books? this could be either one.."

alex went back to jemma, quirking an eyebrow at her confusion.

"a-ha! be weary of the beasts that play tame! no clue what that means!" jemma turned to alex.

"hmm.. watch out for animals?"

"yeah- wait, where are the other two?"

alex looked around.

"oh no."

-

robin's sword gave them enough light to see as they sliced through the plants. they had no clue if they should even be doing that, but being slightly afraid probably meant adventure!

"hey!-" a chipper voice called out from behind, footsteps and breaking twigs now becoming very clear to robin.

"!" robin shouted, whipping around and pointing their sword at pastel.

"aH-! sorry!"

"it's okay. just don't sneak up on me!" robin let out a sigh of relief. thank god it was just pastel and not an animal angry at them for interrupting a nap.

they went on in silence for a while.

"what're you doing?" pastel asked, gently pushing aside a vine.

"looking."

"for what?"

"i dunno- shhh!"

robin froze and stuck out a gloved hand to stop pastel from moving any further.

"do you hear that?"

"hear what?"

crunching leaves and random high-pitched sounds (were they bird calls?) swiftly came close, stopping just outside of the reach of the sword's light.

"hold on." robin defensively held their sword, a sudden rush of energy going through the blade and making it brighter (and probably a bit sharper.)

the whatever didn't have much of a reaction, simply tilting its head and blinking.

it was a black figure with large, bright white eyes. if robin didn't know any better, they'd say it was a dog.

"awh..." pastel stepped out from behind robin, smiling at the seemingly harmless being. "hello."

robin stepped back, wanting to pull pastel with them.

yeah, they had gone out in search for adventure, but this could be dangerous!

there was a chirp from the being as it stood, it's small tail going so fast robin was sure it'd fall off.

there was a moment of pastel trying to communicate with the creature. it kept running a little ways away, looking behind, and then running back.

eventually, she figured it out.

"we're supposed to follow you? is there something we need to see?"

the figure nodded, and then bounced off onto a path that had (apparently) already been there. pastel followed almost as quickly, leaving robin to catch up.

"wait- wait for me!" robin called, almost falling flat onto their face. they shut off the sword and shoved the handle in it's spot on their belt as they ran.

"hurry up!" pastel shouted in return.

it wasn't too long before the two were running side by side.

"something-" robin took in a gulp of air. "-something feels wrong."

"we'll be fine!" pastel smiled, although she couldn't be sure herself. she was simply trying to make this feel just a bit better at best.

the figure dashed across an odd setup, but the two thought nothing of it.

that was, until they were falling. and screaming, lots of screaming.

-

"ugh..." pastel didn't know when or how she blacked out, but she felt as if someone was playing with power tools inside her skull.

she tried to adjust the best she could, making an attempt to figure out what happened.

"ow!" she hissed as she poked herself on something. the small amount of light that filtered in allowed her to see the blurry vine that held thorns of many different sizes and sharpnesses.

luckily, she was perfectly positioned so she was supported by a few vines behind her arms and two behind her legs.

robin, not so much.

there was a groan from probably a few feet away and above pastel.

"robin?" she muttered, looking up as much as she could without making her headache too much worse.

"mmh?" they hummed, looking down. "oh, hey. i think."

robin had lost both their glasses and sword when they tumbled down, caught in an odd way. their cloak was snagged on a vine above them and they were stuck tilted with their head down and legs up.

pastel shifted around a bit. "oof!-"

she had pulled on one of the vines when she moved, leading to something falling on her.

"found your sword."

"oh, cool!"

well, at least there was something good from this!

there was silence and more moving around.

and then a snap.

robin shouted. the vines that had supported their upper body were weaker and broke, leading robin to being nearly choked by the cloak as it suddenly tugged upward.

"woah! are you okay?"

"perfect."

-

"pastel? robin?" jemma called, walking through the path robin had already sliced out.

alex wasn't too far behind, but he was busy double-checking there weren't other ways or clues as to where they could've gone.

"i swear, i am going to-"

"hold on."

jemma stopped at about the same place robin had. once again, there was the calls. no leaves this time, they'd already been crunched.

alex got closer, stopping once he was next to jemma.

"is this what the sign told us about?" he whispered as the figure played the puppy act again.

"i think so." jemma responded, leaning forward and getting on one knee. "what do you want?"

it wasn't too hard for jemma to figure out they were also supposed to follow.

"hmm.. fine, but we should go slow. watch out for traps and such." alex reluctantly agreed, the figure huffing and leading the way at a less energetic pace than before.

-

pastel had stood herself upright for the most part, but she'd also managed to get poked quite a few times and make her head hurt worse.

robin had taken the button off of the cloak, now holding onto it as tight as they could so their head was higher than their legs.

they'd gotten poked as well, and they got a cut on their arm from an especially sharp thorn that they now had to watch for.

"i'm going to need like.. four days off after this." robin complained, pulling more.

"uh, pretty sure you'll need more than that."

"ya think so?"

"i know so. ah.." pastel put her head in one of her hands, shutting her eyes tight.

"are you okay?"

"mhm.. just a headache."

"okay. i'm still working on that way out. i can seE-"

robin's grip failed for a moment, leaving them holding on even tighter than before.

"careful." pastel softly advised.

they were going to need some help.

-

both alex and jemma came to a halt when they took notice of the weird way the path ahead of them was laid out.

the grass was a different color- and not because of the trees. it looked almost transparent- was it an illusion?

the being that had led them to the spot whined and scampered off when alex looked up at it in confusion.

he took a moment before looking back to the ground- and oh boy, had it changed.

without the cover of the creature, both alex and jemma could clearly see it was a trap.

the area around changed as well- while it had looked nice, now nearly all but the way they came from was flooded with plants.

"thank god we didn't fall in." jemma said, kneeling down to reach in and test the thick vines.

there weren't as many thorns on the ones closer to the surface. a couple good tugs told jemma it was safe enough, so she grabbed on and slid down a bit.

"woah, hey! what are you doing?"

"looking! i'll be fine! stay there though in case i need help, okay?"

"fine." alex agreed, worried for the safety of all three of his friends.

jemma went further down, slowly becoming more cautious when she got pricked.

"robin? pastel?"

her calls were quiet, so she looked around and went to try again.

she stopped when she saw a pair of broken glasses hanging off a much smaller vine.

someone had to be here.

"robin! pastel!"

not too much further down was a familiar 'hello?' from robin.

"what are you doing down here?"

robin didn't answer right away.

jemma heard swinging and parts of a conversation.

"can you... that?"

"thanks."

there was a sound like a match being lit, and then an electric blue illuminated the hole.

jemma could see the others now, and they could see her.

robin was hardly holding onto the fabric with one hand, very clearly struggling not to fall. they held the sword up in the other, the light flickering between bright and dim. never off.

pastel was doing somewhat better- she had moved upwards and had many handles next to her for her to latch onto.

she was feeling better as well, most of her pain gone.

"okay.. but what are you doing?"

"being stuck!" robin struggled to say, swinging involuntarily this time. they were shaking, body becoming too tired to hold on and to keep the sword powered.

"we got tricked." pastel gave a much better answer. "by an animal thing."

"oh." jemma felt like she knew exactly what pastel was talking about, but now wasn't the time for questions.

well, questions like 'what did it look like?' anyways.

"do you need help?"

both pastel and robin immediately responded with a loud "yes!"

-

alex had been given a small explanation on the situation before jemma practically pulled him into the pit.

robin had moved quite a bit, now in an upright position with their torn cloak back around their shoulders.

it was fairly easy to get the two out once they got unhooked from everything. it was simply a matter of pulling and climbing.

once the four had gotten free alex checked them all over. pastel seemed to have gotten the worst of it- she hit her head and had quite a few cuts. robin was just exausted and a little banged up.

taking advantage of the fact that alex already knew robin felt like nothing more than a pile of mush, they collapsed into his arms and let him drag them.

he didn't mind, and honestly thought it was kinda funny.

pastel (who was much calmer about it) was leaning on jemma as they walked back.

alex would most likely give the two (especially robin) a reminder on 'why we stick together' once they were back home.

-

they sat around a small fire, with robin mostly asleep and pastel taken care of.

the group laughed and told jokes and small stories they'd heard a million times before, but they wouldn't have it any other way.

#aajajsh i spent so very long writing this but i am PROUD #pastel #alex #jemma #robin #toast writes #magick au #! #vine is not a word anymore

[fantasies-become-your-legacy]

Still taking prompts? Stuckony with established stucky trying to woo Tony who is almost willfully oblivious to their attempts, firmly believing that they could never want him when they have each other

YESSSsssssssssssSSSSSSSSSSsssss. Man, I love this type of shit.

It sort of got away from me BUT THE GIST OF YOUR PROMPT IS THERE I SWEAR~~~~~~~~~~

In nearly every room Tony walked into, he was the smartest person. He was used to that from a young age, it was almost commonplace. When he started meeting members of the Avengers and their associates, however, that certainty became challenged. To be frank, a challenge he revelled in. But, not by a long way, was Tony Stark ever considered to be the most foolish in a room.

Not unless he wanted to be.

Tony was observant, almost to a strange degree. After a brief amount of time with someone, he could remember nearly every tick of the other person. He knew Clint had a favouring to his left side, so always stood on it to speak with him. He knew Natasha had different teas for different mood, and which to keep stocked at what time. He knew when Thor was getting to locked in his own head and to ask him to help him test the suit in a spar to break the big guy out of his slumps. He knew a lot of minor details about everyone, nothing, not a lean or shuffle went unnoticed by Tony. So, yes, he was more than aware the super soldier duo were flirting with him. He just knew it was a lost cause to begin with.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Steve and Bucky had been together on and off for as long as either of them could remember. Moving in together when they were younger was one of the happiness decisions of their lives, and the fact they could do the same now but didn’t have to hide their relationship was truly amazing. Bucky’s health had been steadily improving while living in the compound, so much so he has officially signed on as an Avenger. With the approval and recommendation of one Tony Stark. After all that had happened between them in Siberia, Bucky had assumed the worst. Stark wanted leverage over him. But when he went to visit Stark to see his demands, he walked away with an appointment to get his arm updated. The next visit saw a fully functioning arm, the next saw combat upgrades, the next an invitation to spar with the team (not just Steve and Natasha as he had been doing up to this point). It seemed Tony Stark didn’t want to hurt him, rather to help him. Bucky vowed to find out what his motives were right away.

Visiting the workshop was an accident at first. He was looking for the garage to take Steve’s bike out for a ride but found the workshop instead.

“You going to hover in the doorway all day or you coming in? I could actually use your help with something if you have a sec?” Tony asked, perched on a table to get a better angle at the suit hanging in front of him. Bucky silently came over, standing awkwardly, as if awaiting instructions. “Chill, blue steel, I just need you to try and rip the reactor out of this suit.”

“You need me to what?” Bucky squawked, looking down unconsciously at the reactor in Stark’s own chest.

“I took some severe damage to my suit when you tried it in Siberia. Now, that’s fine for me, I don’t need it to live anymore, rather it’s a precaution. But if this baby goes down in Rhodey’s suit, he’s trapped in a metal cage that he can’t get out of to run away from. That can’t happen. So, please, try to wreck this suit.”

It became commonplace after that. Tony would use Bucky as a durability tester on all his upgrades for the team. It actually helped him work out several bugs that he wouldn’t have noticed until a field test, by which it was too late by Tony’s opinion.

“You need to eat.” Tony stated abruptly one day, dropping a plate of sandwiches on Bucky’s lap. “Pastrami on rye, I know you can’t pass those bad boys up.” He knew for a fact they were the other man’s favourite.

“What?”

“We’ve been working for six hours straight, and you hadn’t eaten before you came down. Eat. I don’t want you passing out on me.”

“Careful, Shellhead, it sounds like you care.” Bucky teased.

“Of course, I care. Steve won’t try and break my stuff, you’re the only test dummy I have.” He winked before returning to the bow in front of him.

It was then he went from ‘Stark’ to ‘Tony’ in Bucky’s mind.~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Realising he was in love with Tony took a little longer.

Bucky had taken to hanging out in the workshop when he wasn’t working with Tony. Something he knew Steve used to do before everything that happened, happened. He’d sit in the corner of the room on the couch on his laptop, catching up on things he’d missed, or just reading. It was peaceful.

“I really like having you down here.” Tony said out of the blue. “It’s nice not being alone down here again, sort of feels like we’re all coming back together again.”

“Do you want us all to be together?” Bucky asked carefully, knowing the accords and what went down was a lot of mental pain for the genius.

“I want my family back.”

Somehow, after that, Steve came to the workshop again.

The three of them were tense at first, unsure how Steve would fit in this new dynamic, but for no reason. Within the week Steve’s painting supplies retook their old home in the corner, Bucky and Tony started taking regular breaks so they all could eat together, Tony didn’t flinch when Steve touched him. Things were becoming a new normal that suited them all.

Until Bucky screwed it up.

Well, he thought he had. Or rather, he was going to.

There had been a gala, a black-tie event hosted by the Maria Stark foundation to raise money for city repairs after the last attack on New York. Tony had organised the most lavish event and ensured the Avengers were all in attendance. All was going well, he was drinking, dancing with Steve, all in all having the best night he’d had in a while. Then something strange happened.

Rather, then Strange happened.

Some surgeon, (established, rich, asshole surgeon), had been by Tony’s side for far too long. Bucky felt jealously burn in his chest when he saw that prick making Tony laugh or touching his arm or standing entirely too close for people who had just met. It was enough to make Bucky’s blood boil.

Few things in life are certain: the grass is green, the sky is blue, Steve Roger’s is a terrible liar, and you can tell exactly what Bucky Barnes is thinking by the look on his face. This particular fact was know very well by Steve Rogers, who caught the look and was by Bucky’s side again in a flash.

“You too, huh?” Steve sighed, glaring over at Tony and the surgeon.

“Me what too?” Bucky snapped his head to Steve in confusion.

“You’re jealous—”

“I just think Tony shouldn’t be wasting his time with some—”

“—because you like him too.” That gave Bucky a moment for pause.

“Of course I like him, he’s my closest friend after you.”

“No, Buck, you have feelings for Tony.”“What?” He laughed, shaking his head in disbelief, before looking over at Tony and seeing that stupid crinkle his eyes do when he laughs, which was too adorable to be fair really and—“Oh my god I like Tony.”

“Welcome to the club, pal.”~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

For Steve, it had been a long time coming.

Falling in love with Tony just came so naturally to him that it wasn’t a shock when he realised it. More of an Oh, of course it’s you. It’s been you all along.

They’d all been in the workshop, Tony under the bottom of some old car while Bucky was under the hood. The two of them were set on making this old Corvette pristine again, Tony even built a new smart engine for her. Steve watched on affectionately as Tony rolled out from underneath, looked up at Bucky and smiled. One of those big smiles that reached his eyes and makes them crinkle in a way that’s all too adorable to be fair. Then he turned that damned look to Steve and everything clicked.~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

As soon as they realised their joint affections, and that both of them wanted to bring Tony into the relationship, the super soldier duo set to romancing the genius.

Flowers were sent to the workshop with the note To brighten your day as much as you brighten ours. Tony had laughed and attributed it to a prank from Clint.

Bucky had the genius idea of breaking a part off of his arm, so Tony had to repair it, but that only got him a long, angry lecture and an “I told you so” from Steve.

Steve tried chocolate covered strawberries which Tony immediately threw out as Pepper was coming over that day.

The pair were becoming exhausted trying to think of new methods to woo Tony. The rest of the Avengers caught on when they made sure Tony had to sit between them at movie night, Tony just thought sitting next to the ‘two space heaters’ was a solution to his always being cold.~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“You need a hand with this, doll?” Bucky smiled easily as he took a stack of papers out of Tony’s arms.

“Yeah actually, can you get Bruce to help me categorise these mission reports?”

“I can help.”

“You hate paperwork.” Tony pointed out warily.

“So do you, so let me help and it will be over quicker.” Bucky continued, heading for the office with the now dumbfounded Tony looking on behind.~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Oh! I got it!” Steve rushed out to grab the door ahead of Tony, who only looked up at him in confusion.

“I have hands?”

“Yeah, no, I know. I just, I didn’t want you spilling your coffee, and I was here so I thought I’d just get it.”

“Right…thank you, I guess.” Tony said warily, walking through and shaking Steve’s weird behaviour off.~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“It’s your favourite flower, right?” Steve smiled, rocking back on the balls of his feet as he waited for Tony’s reaction to his painting.

“They are. Steve, its beautiful but you didn’t have to paint me anything. Let me pay you at least, this is far too much effort for me.”

“Tones no, it’s a gift. Buck was saying you wanted to keep flowers, but you suck at keeping plants alive. Can’t kill a painting.” He beamed, proud of his logic. Tony actually laughed at that.

“That’s fair. Huh…I didn’t think he was listening to me ramble. Good to know. Thank you, Steve, I mean it.”~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Tony Stark was observant, almost to a strange degree. After a brief amount of time with someone, he could remember nearly every tick of the other person. He knew Steve hated the cold more than he did, so made sure Friday kept the heat at an even temperature in every room he was in. He knew that Bucky hated confined spaces, so made sure always to hold training in a room with windows so he never felt trapped. He knew they were both trying to woo him.

Tony Stark was never considered to be the most foolish in a room.

Not unless he wanted to be.

He knew all too well the soldiers cared for him. Cared for…wrong wording. Were interested in Tony. Crushes and infatuations happened all the time, he was no stranger to it. The soldiers wanted to try something new in their relationship, then Tony would be cast aside when the next new thing came along. He was a fad, a fun idea, nothing more. And nothing would happen. His heart wouldn’t take it if it did.~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was when Peter came to the compound for training and Steve and Bucky both immediately jumped on him, offering to help him with his homework or sparring, Tony finally blew up.

“What is your problem?” Tony growled, pulling them into a meeting room while Happy quizzed peter on his various web functions.

“What are you talking about! We just wanted to help out with the kid.” Bucky smiled innocently.

“You hate kids.” Tony shot back.

“Yeah, under the age of five. This one’s cool.”  Tony rolled his eyes and ignored that, turning on Steve.

“You! You can’t lie for shit, what are you two up to?”

“Nothing! We’re just trying to help you out!”

“Because I’m so useless right?” Tony laughed, leaving the other two confused.

“I’m sorry what?”

“Doll, what’re you talking about?”

“I know exactly what you two have been doing. Holding doors, helping with paperwork, making sure I eat, you make me take breaks from my work because you think I can’t do anything by myself! You treat me like a damn child!”“We were trying to be sweet!” Bucky defended.

“By treating me like some helpless damsel who can’t walk two feet without a big strong man there to protect her? Look, I understand what you two have been trying to do, and I’m not interested.” Steve and Bucky’s hearts immediately sank.

“You aren’t?”

“Look, Steve, ten years ago I’d have jumped at the chance of a threesome with you too but that isn’t me anymore. I can’t do flings. My last relationship was a five-year thing, I’m a relationship guy now I don’t sleep around. Not even for you two. I’m sorry.”

“Wait,” Steve grabbed Tony’s wrist as he tried to leave. “We don’t want to just sleep with you, we want to be with you. Together, all of us.”

“It would never work.” Tony said immediately pulling away. “You’d get bored, you’d get jealous—”

“We both want you, doll, it won’t be like that, we just wanted to ask you to try—” Bucky began before he was cut off.

“We can’t! It wouldn’t work! Don’t think I didn’t notice how jealous you got at the gala when I was only with Stephen.” That was the last straw for Bucky, who let of an exasperated laugh.

“Oh, he’s Stephen now! Please, Tony, tell me you wouldn’t be jealous if you saw someone flirting with the man you loved!”

“Flirting! He’s an old friend, who is happily engaged. How dare you even—wait. Loved?” Tony shook his head, his mouth trying to form words he couldn’t think of.

“Yes. Love.” Steve smiled a little. “You thought this was just some game to us?”

“You guys are so perfect together I just…I can’t see—I can’t see why you’d still want me too.” Bucky caught Tony’s chin and tilted his head up to look at them. “Because you’re everything we’ve been missing and more. You’re our missing piece. It feels like we’ve been waiting our whole lives for you. And I refuse to lose you because you’re scared. I love you.”

“I love you.” Steve echoed.

In nearly every room Tony walked into, he was the smartest person. You didn’t need to be a genius, however, to know what he was feeling. Few things in life are certain: the grass is green, the sky is blue, Steve Roger’s is a terrible liar, you can tell exactly what Bucky Barnes is thinking by the look on his face, and Tony Stark wears his heart on his sleeve.

“I love you both too.”

#lemirabitur #my writing #prompt #ask #stuckony