#but i am glad you are there for her to talk her out of the morgan bullshit | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

illdowhatiwantthanks · 2 days

Text

The Surprise (Part 1)

Emily Prentiss x fem!reader Warnings: mentions of sex, some explicit language, let me know if I need to add anything please! Word Count: 1.3k

Summary: Your life with Emily takes an unexpected turn when she steps in as Unit Chief of the BAU. It takes you about a month to pack up you and Emily's London flat and meet her in D.C. What she doesn't know is that you've brought back a surprise.

You collapsed into bed next to Emily, huffing and spent from a day of directing movers and unpacking boxes.

"You alright?" she asked, leaning over you to push your hair out of your face.

"Yeah," you breathed, closing your eyes. "Just tired."

"I am so–" She kissed your forehead. "Glad." Your cheek. "You're here." She pressed her lips into yours and you felt your whole body relax.

She kissed you hungrily, passionately, as if it'd been weeks and, well, you guessed it had. She started moving down your neck, and you groaned.

"Emily..."

"Mmhm?"

"I'm too tired for this."

"Even if you didn't have to do anything?" she said, her eyebrows raised.

You sighed, caressing her face. "You're very tempting, but I feel sweaty and gross and jet lag is kicking my ass. Tomorrow?"

"Of course," she said, planting one more kiss on your lips.

It was no secret in your relationship that, of the two of you, Emily had the higher sex drive. But she was always respectful, always made sure that you really wanted it. And if you didn't, she never, ever made you feel bad. It was one of the many reasons you loved her. And you'd both discovered that it only made the next time better.

You smiled, tucking her hair behind her ear. "Snuggles are okay, though."

"Just okay!?" she said, teasing you. She lay down and pulled you into her, and you rested your head on her chest, breathing deeply.

"More than okay," you whispered. "The best."

"I missed you so much," Emily said, placing a kiss on your forehead, and tracing the skin on your back underneath your shirt.

"I missed you, too."

After a few minutes, Emily spoke again, her voice quiet and somber.

"Thank you," she said.

"For what?"

"Uprooting yourself for me. Again."

You tilted your head to look at her. "I'd do it ten more times."

She held you just a little tighter after that.

"Oh!" you exclaimed suddenly, launching yourself out of her arms. "I forgot! I got you something."

"Oh, yeah?"

You pulled a folded sheet of paper out of your backpack and handed it to her, smiling mischievously. You crawled back into bed, sitting crosslegged as Emily propped herself up on her elbow to read what was on the page.

"Wow," she remarked, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "A blood test. How did you know?"

You shoved her. "Just read it, you dork."

Her eyes moved back and forth over the page. "HCG markers? Honey, you know I don't know what any of this means, right?"

You waited, holding your breath, nearly bursting with excitement.

"Gestationa–" Emily stuttered to a stop, her eyes growing wide. She turned quickly toward you. "Y/N, are you pregnant!?"

You nodded, beaming, your face flushed.

Emily's eyes were filling with tears, and you grabbed one of her hands in yours.

"No, you're not," she argued, fighting against hope as you nodded and nodded. "No, they said it didn't work. I called and talked the doctor myself."

You gasped. "We'll circle back around to the fact that you didn't trust what I told you about my IVF results later, but I don't want to mar our beautiful moment here."

"Y/N!" Emily exclaimed, looking at you, desperately hopeful and desperately scared at the same time. "It was negative...""

"It was a false negative," you told her, nearly giddy with the information. "I had them run it three times last week. It was positive every time."

A few tears dripped down Emily's cheeks and she sniffed, brushing them away and sitting up to grasp your face in her hands.

"You're pregnant," she said again, as if she still couldn't quite believe it.

"Yes." And the grin that broke out on Emily's face–giddy and hopeful and brimming with excitement–was the most beautiful her face had ever been to you.

"We're having a baby!"

"We're having a baby," you confirmed before she pressed her lips to yours, wrapping her arms around your neck.

She kissed the spot behind your ear, your cheek, the corner of your mouth. She kissed the bottom of your chin, your collarbone, then lifted up your shirt, laying her hands gently on your stomach and planting a kiss right in the middle.

"We're having a baby," she repeated, quietly, as if to the little clump of cells that would become your child.

And suddenly it was like a switch had been flipped in Emily, as if she'd moved from shock and disbelief to pure, unadulterated excitement.

"How big do you think he is right now!?" she asked, voice and eyes bright as she pressed her face into your stomach. She cut you off before you could say anything.

"Actually, hang on." She grabbed the sheet of paper from beside her and looked it over studiously, then started scrolling on her phone.

"So according to this, you're at six weeks," she observed.

"Mmhm," you confirmed, leaning back into the pillow and running your fingers through Emily's hair. "The due date's September 19."

Emily squealed. "Oh, honey, this says his little heart is developing!"

"Or her," you argued, but you were grinning ear to ear watching Emily. She was giddy, elated, happier than you'd ever seen her, and she was pretty damn happy with you. You pictured her next to you on the bed, so soon, cradling a baby. Your baby. Yours and hers. The thought gave you butterflies.

"And his little arms and legs and everything are starting to grow! Look at him, Y/N!" she continued, lifting her phone to show you what was essentially a concentrated cluster of organic matter. "He looks like a little shrimp!"

"Or she! Or they, we don't know!" you repeated, more emphatically this time.

"He's a boy, at least for now," Emily decided. She was so nonchalant, so sure about it, that it annoyed the hell out of you.

You scoffed. "How would you know that? You've known about the baby for maybe ten minutes."

She shrugged. "I'm a profiler. I know these things."

You scowled at her, incredulous. "You profiled our six-week-old fetus?"

"Uh-huh."

"Sure you did."

But Emily had already moved on. "He's the size of a lentil!"

You sighed, but you were happy at heart. Happier than you'd been in a long time. You were home with Emily. Back in the States. And there was a little tiny human coming soon.

"Oh, babe, this says morning sickness happens around now," Emily read, absentmindedly stroking your thigh. "Are you having that?"

"Not yet..."

"That's good." She kept reading. "What about... sore breasts?"

"Yes. So be gentle tomorrow please."

Emily grinned like an idiot and kept scrolling.

"Mood swings? Yes," she said.

"Hey!" you exclaimed, smacking her over the head with a pillow.

"Not in a bad way! It just... makes more sense now."

You hated yourself for it, but at that moment, tears flooded your eyes. Damn hormones.

"It's not my fault, Em!" you blubbered. Alarmed by your outburst, she threw her phone to the side and quickly moved to wrap you in her arms. "I just have a lot of feelings right now. And I'm sorry I'm so moody, but you know what? At least your body isn't the Grand Central Station of hormones!"

"Okay," Emily soothed, pulling you close and wiping tears from your cheeks. "Oh, baby, that's a lot of feelings. Just let it out."

You shook and cried, and you were sure you looked absolutely pitiful. You couldn't remember feeling anything so strongly before in your life. You hated it.

"I can't stop crying all the time. I cried with the movers. I cried on the plane, even, and the flight attendant came over to ask if I was okay. I hate crying, Em! And I hate talking to strangers!"

"I know you do," she said, smoothing your hair. "But you know what? I'm gonna be right here with you, okay? I'll talk to all the strangers. And you can cry all you need to."

You hiccuped a bit and leaned into her.

"And soon," she said, slipping a hand under your shirt to place it over your stomach. "There'll be a little tiny us here, and it'll all be worth it."

You exhaled deeply and pressed your face into her chest. "You better do whatever I want for the next eight months."

She chuckled. "I'll do my best, anyway. For you and the little guy."

"Or girl."

"Guy," she said to herself, so quietly you knew you weren't meant to hear it. You smiled anyway.

#emily prentiss #emily prentiss x reader #emily prentiss fanfic #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfic #emily prentiss fluff #emily prentiss drabble

162 notes · View notes

randomfoggytiger · 2 days

Text

Collector's Edition: Reviving that Love

Let's have an assortment of mature, (mostly) fluffy, coupley Revival fics, shall we?

This list only scratches the surface; but hopefully it's enough to soothe a particular itch.

**Note**: Another Revival list I've done is Beefy Revival Mulder (and Other Muscular Mentions)-- perfect pairing to this, I believe.

Loose chronological order below~

@oohnotvery/the_eternal_optimist's Always Wanted

But he has a key to her place, because they’ve always had keys to the other’s place, even in horrible times. It arrived in the mail one day, sealed tightly in a bubble-wrapped envelope, addressed from her to him with a handwritten note that he hadn’t even bothered to read before crushing it up in a ball and tossing it into the trash can. Several hours later, in a fit of frustration, he had fished the note out of the trash and shoved it, unread, into a kitchen drawer.

Breakup Mulder realizes Scully has been waiting for him.

@aloysiavirgata’s (Ao3, WBM, Gossamer, LJ, Alt. LJ)

Si Hoc Legere Potes, Liberaliter Educatus

"It was very important to Deputy Director Skinner that you two meet with me. He felt that you needed some guidance before you could resume any kind of professional partnership."

I grit my teeth. You're a dead man, Skinner.

S10 Mulder and Scully run laps around the FBI recruitment therapist.

I need a fic with Scully's stolen dog Dagoo, and her wearing a Knicks tshirt.

“This is the one I ripped a piece off of for Boggs, Scully. This isn’t just my Knicks shirt. This is my favorite Knicks shirt. I’ve been looking for it!”

She pulls Tesla closer. “Stop violating the fourth amendment, Agent.”

“Stop violating the eighth commandment, Doctor.”

Post The Weremonster Mulder and Scully debate dog names and Knicks T-shirts.

What's your Mulder and Scully Thanksgiving sex headcanon?

"I'm going to die," she mumbles, her eyes half-lidded in tryptophanic stupor.

Mulder and Scully are stuffed after dinner.

@flukemen?/@pinebluffvariants/scienceandmysticism/contradictiontonature's (Ao3) Tie (prompt #1)

“Hello?”

“You know it’s me.” He did. “What are you doing?”

“I’m shopping. And I hope you’re using your bluetooth.” He could tell she was driving from the white noise over the sound of her breathing.

Mulder uses Scully's expertise to pick out a tie.

@hemisphaeric's (Ao3)

"Mulder you need new clothes"

The next day they decided to go into town and do some shopping, after Scully had had to tell Mulder for the tenth time he needed clothes and that no, he couldn’t wear those old ones just to seduce her.

Scully helps Mulder pick out new suits for his new job.

Let me carry some of the pain for you

Suddenly warm hands were touching him but he didn’t react. He couldn’t react, feeling so distant from everything. Scully was speaking, he recognized her voice, but not her words, those were like a white noise in the back of his head, which was so loudly screaming.

“I am better Scully, for real” he didn’t realize he had started talking at first, but he couldn’t stop, tears fogging up his vision.

Mulder panics, thinking Scully will leave him again.

touch.

Things had changed again in the last period though, she had come home; she had been spending time there with him more and more frequently. He understood her necessity to take things slowly, to test the territory before diving in head first, but he felt ready for it.

Mulder is glad to have Scully back.

Mulder, Scully and Elon Musk

She pushed him away and swatted at his arm. “You woke me up early to talk about Elon Musk??”

Mulder wakes Scully early for Elon's rocket news.

grumpysimon's Morse Code

He asks you for a pen. The genius always loses things. Your coffee comes and he spills a little on the napkin. He taps on the table. Morse code, maybe. You’re too tired to figure out what he’s saying to you in secret. You say his name and that smile is more crooked than ever.

Scully secretly loves Mulder's obsessive passion.

@baronessblixen/Baroness_Blixen's

Belong

He closes his eyes and counts. What will it be, he wonders. The sound of a car or their creaky door?

Another minute passes before he hears the soft squeak behind him.

Mulder tells Scully he's "done okay without her."

A few months after they're back on the x-files, Mulder's notices that his neck and shoulders are sore.

Mulder feels better and promises - with a wink - to do the same for her, she just needs to ask. She doesn't ask but Mulder knows her feet are sore a few days later, after hours of walking around. He silently starts massaging her feet while consorting in his hotel room, half-empty take-out containers on the bed next to them....

Mulder doesn't replace his chair-- which is just fine, because Scully becomes his masseuse.

Mulder giving Scully a foot massage

“Exactly. My feet hurt and I need a break. I’m not…” She trails off again as she massages her foot.

“Not young anymore?” Mulder offers and her head shoots up like a rocket, her eyes shooting daggers.

“Not used to it anymore.”

Post Ghoulie Scully's high heels finally catch up to her.

There's No Place Like Home (Ao3)

He loves her stubbornness. Once, she told him that she fell in love with him because he was stubborn. Well. That was the pot calling the kettle black. No one is as stubborn as his Scully.

AU-- Nothing Lasts Forever Mulder brings an injured Scully home.

Growing Old (with You) (Ao3)

“Just wait til you’re my age,” he jokes.

“55 looks good on you.” She proves her point with a kiss on his nose. “I can only hope to look as good as you when I turn 55.”

“You will. And I will remind you of it. If I’m invited to your birthday, that is.”

“You’re always invited to my birthday.”

Scully drops in for Mulder's 55th, assuring him his aging concerns are overblown.

A Study in Chemistry

"I didn't know you cared for this kind of movie, Scully." Mulder, sprawling on her bed, in her motel room, looks slightly disgusted at the small screen where two generic actors share a truly boring, less than passionate kiss in a typical, cheesy Hallmark Christmas movie.

"I don't," she says, returning her attention to the case report they're supposed to be working on. Despite his words, Mulder's eyes are glued to the movie and Scully can't help but smile.

Mulder and Scully bridge the gap between them-- and all because of Hallmark and memories.

Surprises Are Best Served Ice-Cold - Chapter 1

They both start towards each other at the same time, laughing.

“Mulder, I don’t remember how to stop,” she says, trying to get her skates under control.

“I’ve got you,” he says calmly and she hopes he’s right because she loses her balance, stumbles the last few steps towards him and crashes right into his chest, knocking him to the ground.

Mulder surprises Scully with a frozen over lake for Christmas.

A Day in May (Ao3)

Mulder puts on cheesy Christmas music and turns down the lights, creating a mood. They share a cup of sugary hot cocoa with mini marshmallows and whipped cream. When Scully raises her eyebrows at the cream, Mulder dips a finger in and deposits a blob on her nose.

“Live a little, Scully.”

And she does.

Mulder forgoes sleep to help Scully decorate their tree on Christmas Eve.

Night Out

"I can't breathe." Mulder is pouting. She wants to be angry with him - all of this is his own fault, after all - but he looks so miserable and yet so adorable that she feels sympathetic. She strokes his cheek and smiles at him.

"I'll make you make some soup."

"Are you sure I'm not dying?" he asks again, coughing. She offers him some tea and he sips it noisily.

Mulder gets sick after a night of Squatchin.

@wtfmulder/@momdadimpoppunk‘s (Ao3)

post-Plus One

“You reasoned your doppelgänger out of existence,” he says flatly. She smiles against his bare shoulder, nodding.

“She was a very reasonable woman.”

He laughs softly, the rumble of it caressing her cheek.

Post Plus One Mulder and Scully catch a few winks.

ficlet; twenty-six years

On her side of the desk, he has procured for her a plain blue baseball cap, a skinny caramel macchiato, and a not-skinny blueberry muffin.

She sits down as he hums and types away at something, taking a bite of the muffin and putting the cap on her head.

Scully always guesses which anniversary Mulder is celebrating.

fluff 🤢

They’re packing up the basement just one last time. They both learned early in life that saying goodbye is so much easier when it’s a choice, and the moment holds no bitterness, no fear.

Post Revival Scully finds flowers she'd once given Mulder in their basement office.

@myassbrokethefall's untitled rm9sbg93zxjz post-ep

Scully had chanced to see a picture of a blobfish on the internet some months ago and he wasn't sure he had ever, in their years and years together, seen her laugh so hard. It was one of the best things that had ever happened to him, frankly, watching the outsizedly hysterical reaction of Dana Scully MD, his serious scientist partner, to a picture of a lumpy, slimy, theatrically frowning fish on the internet. He had brought it up at every opportunity for weeks, renamed the wireless network at the house Blobfish Cove, found a way to work a reference to it into a meeting with Skinner, once printed out a picture of it and left it on Scully’s pillow, and watched in utter delight as she got the helpless giggles every single time. (Even the Skinner time. He hadn't even asked, just looked wearily at some point behind their heads for a few seconds before sighing and continuing on.)

AU-- Robot episode Mulder dreamed up the whole thing.

@onpaperfirst's (Ao3) Honey Hi

The doors slid open and Mulder wrangled a cart from the corral.

“They set up the little rooms and it makes you feel like you’re at home,” she said. “It dulls your senses. You forget you’re in public. And all of a sudden you’re in the middle of a fight about which rug matches the couch.”

“Let’s not fight in Ikea, Scully. It’s so bourgeois.”

Part II to Home, Home, Mulder and Scully's romantic life is examined through the lens of perfectly balanced humor... and their IKEA trip.

@ghostbustermelanieking's (Ao3) bearing north (Ao3)

“The cops out front will stop him,” Mulder says comfortingly.

She nods. Her skull is still pounding, but she feels limp in his arms, safe. “I tried to fight him off,” she says. “I almost did. But he got angry and shoved me into the pool. I hit my head.”

Mulder takes Scully home after she's injured while pursuing a perp.

"You’re beautiful, you know that?” (Ao3)

She turns her eyes up to meet his, burning blue eyes in the night. “You’re… all I have left now, Mulder.” Names are left unsaid between them, but they all register in his brain, like a knife. “I think my leaving was for the best, but I’m ready to come back. You’re my family, Mulder.”

Scully proposes to her Mulder.

@settle-down-frohike's Headcanon: It started after her first disappearance, on a flight to nowhere North Dakota.

It started after her first disappearance, on a flight to nowhere North Dakota. She was flipping through a dossier and he was dozing, as per usual. She heard a mumbled version of her name and threw a distracted “Hm?” his way without glancing up. “Scully.” Firmer, more forceful this time. She looked over, annoyed, and spat “What Mu-“ and realized he was still asleep, but fitfully so.

My Struggle II Scully hopes she can comfort Mulder once more.

@lilydalexf/LilydaleXF 's My Andromeda

He looks back at the road and answers honestly, "I didn't watch many shows. The ones I really wanted to see I wasn't allowed to watch. Except after excessive begging."

"And on nights you could successfully sneak into the TV room after your parents fell asleep." It's a statement, not a question.

"You know me so well, Scully."

Mulder and Scully imagine a night of stargazing.

Eternity Awaits

"Mulder…. We need to go to bed."

"You don't want to freeze together?"

"Not on this decrepit couch I don't."

Post This Mulder and Scully discuss their eternal conversations.

Apostrophic/@mappingthexfiles's

This

Mulder said Push a third time and they both groaned with the effort of heaving the massive piece another three feet, barricading it firmly against the bedroom door.

“What does this,” he gasped, “remind you of?”

Scully, drawing in deep gulps of air, pushed herself up on her elbows, propped on the edge of the chest. She did not say the fleeting thought that had gone through her head: maybe it was not a bad thing Mulder had not been present at the birth of their child.

“Um,” Scully said.

“Yeah,” Mulder said. Panting out, “Towers of furniture.”

Post This Mulder and Scully move their furniture back into place.

The Scully Treehouse of Horror

The automatic taps don’t turn on and off for him. He’s invisible to its sensors. The alarm, on the other hand, blares every time he walks in the door. Sometimes, even, once he’s inside the door and has been for some time. He’ll get up at night for a drink of water and Scully gets jarred out of postcoital bliss by the klaxon siren of intruder alert, intruder alert, Mulder cursing at the sink in the kitchen, yelling for Scully....

If she yells back for him to punch in the code, he does the wrong birthdate or botches the spelling of Queequeg. More often than not, she pads out in bare feet, tying her robe, entering the right code, filling the glass with cold water, sleepily herding a grumbling Mulder back to the warm bed.

Scully's house hates Mulder; and she loves him all the more for it.

Lapsed_Scholar's Wake-Up Calls

On their way into work, his phone rings. It’s just a wrong number, and the other commuters don’t really take any notice, but Scully arches her eyebrow.

At her questioning look, “Do you recognize this theme?”

“Vaguely. Should I?”

“It’s our theme song, Scully! And I think it suits us. Kind of spooky.” A beat. “Don’t you remember our movie?”

If possible, her eyebrow climbs higher.

Mulder always ratted he and Scully out to people-- and still does now, years and years later.

@slippinmickeys/SlippinMickeys's

Prompt: ballet slippers, chocolate pudding in a can, Wyoming

It was like a Carlton Varney fever dream; like a brothel with aspirations. Mulder actually paused in the doorway and leaned back out to double check the address number on the side of the house.

“Wow,” Scully said, daintily setting down her suitcase a few feet inside the door. She wanted to make a joke, but Mulder looked appalled.

Mulder books a truly terrible vacation spot.

Prompt Drabble Collection - Chapter 12

“I want something I can’t make.”

It was Day 18 of self-isolation and if you looked at quarantine like the stages of grief, they had rolled easily past panic and guilt, skipped loneliness altogether and were deep in the grip of isolation.

Scully shot him a look.

Mulder and Scully are sick and tired of COVID quarantine.

Prompt: Mulder & Scully vacation Christmas/Hanukah at the Quonochontaug cabin post season 11

“When was the last time you stayed here?” she asked, wrinkling her sensitive nose at the smell of dust, of mildew.

One suitcase on the floor at his feet, one still in his hand, Mulder closed the door behind him, his face ponderous. “Overnight?” he clarified. “I think I was nineteen?”

Post Revival Mulder and Scully spend the New Years in the old Mulder summer home.

outsquatchin94's Joy to You and Me

“Those hipsters… But Scully, that was such a look. Also, I hate to break this to you, but I’m quite sure it’s in the back spare room somewhere in a box.”

For a moment, he thinks she’ll spring off the couch and go find the offending object. She doesn’t though, she only smiles a little.

“I think we turned out okay in the end, even without the sleeping bags.” And Mulder has to agree with her.

Mulder and Scully discuss her old jacket.

@msrafterdark/msrafterdark's A concept : slow dancing on an ill lit front porch late in the evening while it’s thundering and maybe just starting to rain?

When they’re like this again, as though no time has passed, the pleasure of the familiarity is so good it almost hurts her. To have him well again, to be safe and wanted and in his arms is only made sweeter by the fact that the knocks and falls they have taken ultimately only made them stronger.

Mulder and Scully, the Unremarkable House and dancing.

@tofuttim's Comfort and Chaos (Ao3)

The rain pelted relentlessly against the windows of the small cabin. The night air was cold, but inside the cabin, a fire and a shared bed with Mulder kept her warm. The sound of the storm thrusted her thoughts back to the beginning.

The beginning of forever.

Scully asks Mulder what he remembers about their first case.

@defnotmeyo's (Ao3) The Cost of Living is Just Right

The beds are wrapped in white and light grey sheets with sky blue pillow cases on the spare pillows. The tables all look like something you would have seen on the Jetsons.

It takes a bit of time for Mulder to feel comfortable at Scully's apt.

Ingot Silver

“Birthday time, huh? We could go uh,” he licked some sauce off his finger as he moved a dish over to the sink, “we could go squatchin’.” He turned and winked at her.

Mulder learned plans an evening dinner for he and his Scully.

the “before i even needed glasses” line

Then, on days he doesn’t hate himself (and those days are multiplying and growing closer together all the time), he remembers he has a son, healthy and alive. He has the love of his life and while she’s not home yet, her toothbrush is back in his bathroom.

Post Cathedral episode Mulder isn't letting his homie get away ever again.

It really looks like Mulder when youre seeing two of everything.

“Mulder… you… you hurled a raccoon down our stairs.”

He shrugs, sheepish as ever.

“Like… you hurled him.”

“It was for Daggoo!”

A raccoon holds the Mulder-Scully household hostage.

I always laugh at that bit in detour where mulder is like “if ur lucky u get seventy-five (75) yrs. if ur rly lucky u get eighty

She refrains from rolling her eyes, instead slides in front of him and slinks an arm around him, patting that soft of his oblique threatening to turn into a love handle.

“Charlie has a decent head of hair,” Mulder mumbles.

“Charlie is four years younger. And you made it passed 50, Mulder. You won.”

Scully reassures Mulder he still looks gooooooooood.

BONUS (HAD TO INCLUDE THESE FOR THE MSR)

@monikafilefan/MonikaFileFan's

Language of Love: Prompts of Angst and Romance - Chapter 6

A sudden rise in emotion crests in her throat when she sees the wondrous look of awe and admiration seize the love of her life.

It’s the exact look she saw grace is face eighteen years ago.

“Mulder…” she whispers, raking her fingers through his silky hair as he grins up at her with a trembling chin.

Post Revival Mulder feels his baby move during the witching hour.

39 and 82 from the prompt list 😁/Just Breathe

“She’s here and she’s beautiful, honey, she’s just—”

“What, Mulder?” Scully shot up onto her elbows with her heart in her throat. “She’s just what?”

“It’s fine. She’s fine, Scully. She just looks like a he.”

Her jaw dropped. “What are you—are you sure?” Their slippery, pink baby covered in layers of vernix and blood mewled in protest as Mulder lifted the tiny bundle away from the comfort of his warm chest and pointed wide-eyed between its legs.

Mulder and Scully and unexpectedly fast Halloween baby makes a chaotically competent three.

RoseThornhill's

Spooky Mulder: The Revenge

Excited dad!Mulder wants a spooky theme for his Halloween daughter's name.

Alice is a Punk Rocker

Mulder, Scully, and their Halloween baby are happy together, despite a few bumpy patches.

@myownsuperintendent/MyOwnSuperintendent’s Renewal

She tries to shift in the bed, to touch him too, and he stops and pulls back. “Don’t try to sit up,” he says. “They made me promise I wouldn’t disturb you.” He’s trying to smile at her through the tears in his eyes. “You’re all right,” he repeats. “Please don’t scare me like that again. Not ever again.”

Post Revival Scully loses a lot of blood during delivery, which helps convince Jackson to stay with his family and new sister a bit longer.

Thanks for reading~

Enjoy!

70 notes · View notes

cre8inghavoc · 2 days

Text

What are friends for?

PT. 11

Status: ongoing!!

Updates: no set date.

WC: 4300

Pairing: megumi fushiguro x FEM!reader

Genre/Warnings:[18+] Characters are aged up. This story contains toxic boyfriend, cursing, name calling, self-doubt/hate, angst, breaking up, post-breakup, alcohol, drug use, drunk moments, new friends, dating!au, college!au, no curses!au, dark humour, dark jokes. SMAU. Smut.

Recap:

As Megumi is about to head upstairs, Itadori stops him and pulls him to the side with a serious expression. "Yo, Megumi," he begins, catching Megumi's attention. Megumi turns to face him, a hint of confusion showing on his face. "What's up?"

"You gotta tell her, you know…" Itadori's tone is firm, his eyes locked on Megumi's.

Megumi furrows his brows, trying to understand. "Huh? What are you talking about?"

"You know what I'm talking about, Megumi," Itadori insists, his voice dropping slightly. "I'm not stupid. I saw the hickey on her neck. I know it's from you. And I'm happy for you, man. I'm glad you're both talking again. But seriously, you need to tell her… or else things are gonna get fucked over again."

Megumi meets Itadori's gaze, his mind racing as he processes the gravity of the situation. After a moment of contemplation, he nods solemnly. "Yeah, I will."

"When is it happening? Is it your last one?" Itadori asks, his concern evident.

Megumi stares at him, his expression unreadable, before glancing at the time: 4:52 am. "Yeah, if y/n's asleep, then I'll go now," he replies, a sense of urgency creeping into his tone.

"It's your last time doing this... right?"

Megumi meets Itadori's gaze with a serious expression and nods silently.

He heads upstairs to his bedroom, his footsteps echoing softly in the quiet house. Slowly, he nudges the door open just a bit, sneaking a peek inside. There you are, lying so peacefully on his bed. Seeing you like that, he can't help but smile. He figures you're completely knocked out, just by the way your chest rises up and down slowly.

Carefully, he steps into the room, trying not to disturb you. He places a glass of water on the nightstand nearby, a small gesture to make sure you're comfortable. With your eyes closed, you expect him to climb back into bed and pull you close, but he doesn't. Instead, you hear him shuffling around in his closet, then the soft click of the door as he leaves. The room suddenly feels a bit emptier without him, a stark contrast to the warmth you were anticipating.

Fully awake now, you scan around the room, but Megumi is nowhere to be seen. Sensing something amiss, you quickly get out of bed and grab a sweater and sweatpants from his closet to get dressed in before leaving his room and heading to the stairs.

As you approach the stairs, you spot Itadori and Megumi standing in front of the house door. Intrigued, you're about to head down to ask them what they're up to until you overhear their conversation. "Just stick to the plan," Itadori says, prompting a flood of questions in your mind. Plan? What plan? You can't help but wonder.

"Once you're done, send me the message, and I'll let Gojo know," Itadori continues, mentioning someone named Gojo. Gojo as in our Professor? The pieces of the puzzle aren't quite fitting together, leaving you confused and curious about their discussion.

"Got it. Thanks, Itadori," Megumi replies before stepping outside.

“Oh, and Megumi!” Itadori interjects before Megumi can step outside. Megumi turns around to face him, and Itadori hands him a small bottle. Megumi accepts it with a nod, tucking it into his pocket.

"Be careful," Itadori says, his voice carrying genuine concern and a hint of worry.

"I always am," Megumi replies, his smile offering reassurance. With that, he heads out, and Itadori closes the door behind him.

You've already made your way downstairs, and when Itadori turns to head up the stairs, he almost bumps into you, jolting back in fear as he wasn't expecting you to be there.

"Y/N! Holy shit, you scared me," he exclaims, catching his breath.

You look at him and then at the door behind him. "Where is Megumi going?"

"Uh... he just went to grab something. He'll be back soon," Itadori replies, his tone a bit nervous.

"At 5 in the morning?" you question, raising an eyebrow.

"Oh yeah, you know he's an early bird...."

"Hm. Let's go follow him then," you suggest, moving toward the door. However, Itadori steps in front of you, stopping you in your tracks.

"Let's not do that! He wants to be alone right now,"

"Don't be silly, Itadori! Come on," you insist, reaching for his car keys. But Itadori quickly snatches them from the table.

"Y/n, seriously, let's just go back to sleep. He'll be back soon," he urges, his tone firm.

"Why are you being weird?" you ask, puzzled by Itadori's behaviour.

Glancing down at the side table where everyone usually keeps their keys, you spot Toge's keys. You move closer to the door while Itadori is still in front of you, and notice him taking a step back every time you take a step forward. Slowly reaching for the door handle, you touch it and open the door. "Megumi's still here, maybe I'll go ask him," you say, tricking Itadori as he turns around to check. Seizing the opportunity, you quickly grab Toge's car keys and duck under Itadori's arm, running out the door and getting into Toge's car. You start up the engine, and hit the gas quickly before Itadori can even react.

Barely processing what happened, Itadori runs out the door, locking it and rushing to his car to follow you. "Fuck, Y/n, what the fuck," he breathes out, stressed, as he tries to catch up to you while you drive ahead.

You speed off, determined to find Megumi, and soon spot his car on the highway. "Found you," you mutter to yourself as you catch up to him, trying not to attract attention. There weren't many cars out at this hour, which was a relief considering your current state of intoxication. However, the lack of traffic also meant that any movement could draw unwanted attention. You tread carefully, mindful of the need to avoid attracting too much notice as you navigate the quiet streets.

Glancing in the mirror, you see Itadori's car right behind you. "Damn it, Itadori!" you curse under your breath, feeling the stress mounting. As he pulls up beside you, you both roll down your windows "Y/N, just turn back around!" he shouts, frustration evident in his voice.

"For a minute, Itadori, please, just fuck off!" you plead, feeling the urgency to find out what Megumi is up to. With determination, you hit the gas, speeding up to overtake him. Spotting Megumi exiting the highway, you follow suit, trailing him into a mysterious town in the middle of nowhere. Realizing that following him directly might raise suspicion, you decide to turn off your headlights and make a discreet U-turn to enter the town.

As you proceed cautiously, you notice Megumi's car parked ahead. Opting to stay inconspicuous, you pull over behind a building, grateful that Toge's car is black and less obvious in the dimly lit area.

You step out of your car, taking in the dimly lit surroundings. The neighbourhood is quiet, with not a lot of buildings in sight, most if not all of them are old looking. As you make your way toward Megumi's car, you're careful not to draw attention to yourself.

Why on earth would Megumi be here?

You hide behind a tree, looking out into the sparse glow, spotting Megumi standing alone in the empty parking lot. You can't help but notice that Megumi has something covering the lower half of his face—maybe a mask?

What are you up to Megumi?

You observe him lighting up something and bringing it to his mouth, while adjusting his mask just enough to inhale. Leaning against a nearby light pole, he seems lost in thought.

Is he just here to smoke? Could this be what he and Itadori were talking about? his last time before he stops? But why this place, if that's the case? Is it one of his secret “spots” he goes to escape?

You ponder these questions as your mind races. Suddenly, your attention is diverted as you notice another figure approaching, also clad in black with a mask covering half of their face. Megumi swiftly adjusts his mask back down over his mouth as he puts out the finished blunt under his foot.

What the fuck?

You watch as the two figures stare at each other, but their masks make it impossible to tell if they're talking. With careful steps, you get closer, trying to catch any snippets of conversation. It's hard to make out their words, but their gestures indicate they're definitely engaged in a discussion. Then, to your dismay, you see Megumi reach into his pocket and pull out something Itadori gave him earlier. Your heart sinks as you realize what it is.

Is he fucking dealing drugs?

What the actual fuck is going on.

Rage consumes you as you witness the scene unfolding before your eyes. You knew that you shouldn’t, knew it was dumb, but you couldn’t control the amount of anger propelling you forward. You dash towards them, unable to contain yourself any longer.

"What the fuck are you doing?!" you shout at Megumi, your voice filled with fury.

His expression drops at the sight of you, and you can almost feel the weight of his thoughts.

Damn it, Y/n, what the hell are you doing? he silently curses.

“What are you doing here?" he responds, his tone casual but his eyes betraying a simmering frustration. He's furious that you've stumbled upon this scene. You weren't supposed to witness this. Heck you weren't supposed to be here.

"You don't get to ask me what I'm doing here. What the hell are you doing here, and who the hell are you?" you fire back, your anger boiling over.

You glare at Megumi and the stranger standing before him. Before Megumi can even respond, the man bursts into laughter. You exchange puzzled glances with Megumi, then turn your attention back to the stranger.

"I knew I recognized you," he declares, pulling off his mask.

You stare at the man in disbelief. "Hey, sweetheart, missed me?" he says, winking at you before you snap back to reality, your shock quickly turning to fury.

"Haruta?"

"What the hell is going on? Why are you with my ex-boyfriend?" you demand, your anger escalating with each word.

"Y/n, it's not what it looks like," Megumi begins, but you cut him off with a scathing retort.

"Like hell it isn't, Megumi."

Your ex continues to laugh, only fueling your rage. "It's exactly what it looks like, isn't it, 'Megumi? Dealing drugs?" he taunts, and you shoot him a venomous glare.

"Shut the hell up, I'm not talking to you," you hiss, pointing a finger in his direction.

"Oh, still fierce as ever, are we?" Your heart pounds in your chest, his words dripping with mockery. Before you can react, he moves closer and grabs your wrist and pulls you towards him, his grip firm and unyielding. Panic surges through you as his arm snakes around your neck, trapping you in a suffocating embrace. You freeze, your breath catching in your throat, as his other hand reaches into his pocket, retrieving a knife. The cold metal presses against your skin, sending a shiver down your spine. Paralyzed by fear, you can only gasp in shock, praying for a miracle to save you from this nightmare.

"Get your fucking hands off her!" Megumi shouts, his anger boiling over. Megumi's hand clenches into a tight fist, his nails digging into his skin with a ferocity that threatens to draw blood. His knuckles whiten with the intensity of his anger, a potent mix of fury and desperation swirling within him. The sight of you in danger ignites a primal rage deep within his core, fueling his resolve to protect you at any cost. Every fiber of his being strains against the urge to lash out, his muscles tensing as he struggles to contain the seething emotions coursing through him.

"Scared I'm gonna hurt your little girlfriend?" your ex taunts, provoking Megumi further.

"Watch who the hell you're talking to," Megumi warns, his voice laced with more anger. Megumi takes a step forward, ready to intervene, but freezes in his tracks as he sees your ex move the knife dangerously close to your neck. The sight of the blade drawing blood makes his blood run cold, a surge of fear and anger coursing through him. He's torn between rushing to your defense and the fear of escalating the situation further. Helplessness washes over him as he watches you flinch from the prick of the blade, It's a gut-wrenching moment, and he struggles to find a way to keep you safe without making things worse.

"G-gumi," Your voice trembles as you manage to utter Megumi's name, desperation and fear lacing your words. As you lock eyes with him, you see the fear and stress mirrored in his own gaze.

"Oh, don't be like that, sweetheart," he taunts in a cocky tone, his grip tightening around you. "Why say his name when I'm the one holding you close to me?" His words drip with arrogance, a cruel reminder of your vulnerability in this precarious situation. You can feel the tension in the air thickening, his voice a chilling contrast to the fear coursing through your veins.

"What the hell do you want?" Megumi's voice cuts through the tension, sharp with anger. His words are a demand, a challenge to your ex to justify his actions. The intensity in his tone is palpable, a reflection of the protective rage burning within him.

"Why are you doing this, Haruta?" you manage to choke out, your breaths coming in ragged gasps. His grip tightens on you, a cruel reminder of your vulnerability.

"Oh, come on, I think Megumi knows exactly why." He says while glancing at Megumi. "And honestly, you, y/n, made it quite easier for me." His laughter echoes.

"You think this is funny? Some kind of fucking game to you, huh? "

Haruta's laughter dies down as he meets Megumi's glare with a serious expression.

"Oh? Isn't this all just a game to you too, Megumi?" Haruta retorts, his tone biting. "Being sent out by your father, isn't that right?" The accusation hangs heavy in the air, and Megumi's silence speaks volumes.

"What the hell are you talking about?" you demand, your confusion mounting, but Haruta just smirks in response. Desperate for answers, you turn to Megumi, searching his face for any sign of explanation.

"Megumi, what the hell is he talking about?"

But he doesn't say anything he just glares at Haruta, his silence only seeming to fuel Haruta's excitement.

"That little boyfriend of yours hasn't told you, huh?" Haruta chuckles slightly, his tone dripping with malice. "Let me get it in that little pretty head of yours, sweetheart,"

Before Haruta can continue, a new figure enters the scene, his imposing presence commanding attention. He's a towering man, muscular and intimidating, clad in a tight black shirt that accentuates his physique. His dark hair falls across his face, framing sharp features, and a scar mars the right side of his lip, adding to his rugged appearance.

"That's enough," he interjects, his voice low and authoritative, cutting off Haruta mid-sentence. His arrival casts a palpable tension, his gaze flickering between you three with a silent warning.

"Ahh, Toji Zenin," Haruta acknowledges with a smirk, his tone laced with a hint of amusement. As Toji approaches, his gaze fixates on you, a silent warning in his eyes.

But before he can reach you, Haruta brings the knife dangerously close to your neck again. "Uh uh uh," he taunts, his smirk widening.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you."

Toji walks over to Megumi, offering a brief, reassuring pat on the back before casually leaning against him, his elbow resting on Megumi's shoulder. His gaze sweeps over both of you, his expression one of nonchalant indifference, as if the entire situation bores him.

Holy shit they look so alike...

Before you can process what's happening, Toji springs into action with lightning speed. In the blink of an eye, he rushes towards Haruta, shoving him away from you with a swift, decisive motion. With effortless efficiency, Toji traps Haruta in a chokehold, his movements fluid and precise. The suddenness of it all leaves you stunned, as if time itself has slowed to a crawl.

Gasping for air, you clutch at your neck, the sensation of Haruta's grip still lingering painfully. In an instant, Megumi is by your side, pulling you into his embrace with a fierce protectiveness. His arms envelop you, offering a sense of safety and comfort amidst the chaos.

"Hey, hey, hey, look at me," Megumi's voice is gentle yet firm as he lifts your head to meet his gaze. "You're okay," he reassures you, his words a soothing balm to your frayed nerves. It's only then that you realize tears are streaming down your cheeks, your emotions finally breaking free. Megumi's touch is tender as he brushes away your tears.

Megumi's gaze meets Toji's for a fleeting moment, a silent exchange of understanding passing between them. He knows they need to leave before things escalate further. Turning his attention back to you, Megumi's voice is gentle as he suggests, "Hey, let's go back to my car, okay?" Taking your hand, he leads you away from the tense atmosphere, guiding you both towards safety. Once inside the car, a heavy silence settles between you, the echoes of the recent events still lingering in the air.

"What the hell just happened?" you break the silence, the words tumbling out in a mixture of confusion and disbelief.

Megumi's grip on the steering wheel tightens, his jaw clenched with a mixture of anger and frustration. "I don't know."

"You weren't supposed to be here. You shouldn't have been here."

"Please… tell me what's going on," you plead, your voice filled with desperation. The uncertainty weighs heavily on you, the need for answers pressing against your thoughts like a relentless tide. You search his eyes for any sign of clarity, hoping to unravel the mysteries that have unfolded before you.

Megumi's gaze softens as he meets your eyes, a mixture of guilt and determination reflected in his expression.

"It's… complicated."

"I don't fucking care how complicated it is, Megumi," you exclaim, your voice laced with anger and frustration. "After going through all of that, I need an explanation. Why the fuck were you here? Why were you with my ex? What the hell were you doing?" Each word is punctuated by the weight of your emotions, demanding clarity and understanding from the chaos that has unfolded.

"These are things you shouldn't know, Y/n. Please, just drop it." It's a plea born out of a desire to shield you from the dangers.

But despite his words, you can't shake the feeling that there's more to the story, secrets hidden beneath the surface waiting to be unearthed. And as you stare into his eyes, you can't help but wonder what else he's keeping from you, what other truths lie hidden in the depths of his silence.

"I can't do this anymore. You're just like Haruta. Lying and keeping shit hidden. What the hell, Megumi? I'm done," you declare, frustration and hurt lacing your words as you reach for the door handle, ready to walk away.

But before you can open the door, Megumi's hand lands firmly on your thigh, his grip tightening to prevent you from leaving.

"Don't compare me to that piece of shit," he interjects, his voice filled with a mixture of anger and hurt.

"Then stop acting like him!"

"Y/n, I can't just tell you this shit."

"Why? Why the hell not?" you demand, your anger boiling over.

"I told you it's fucking complicated."

"I almost got fucking killed, Megumi. Isn't that good enough to explain what the fuck happened?"

"Angel, please," Megumi implores, his voice soft with a plea.

"I thought so. Bye, Megumi."

But before you can make your exit again, his grip tightens ever so slightly. "Angel," he says again, his voice carrying a weight of uncertainty.

"If I tell you this, you'll end up hating me," he continues, his words heavy with the weight of his fears. "You'll despise me, never want to talk to me again…"

"No, that’s not true…"

"You say that now, but you don't know… you don't know what I've done," he murmurs, his voice heavy with guilt.

Your heart aches at the pain etched across his features. "Whatever it is, we can work through it together," you reply, reaching out to gently touch his hand.

"Fuck… okay," Megumi begins, his voice heavy with the weight of his confession.

"My dad… he's not a good person, not anymore at least... It started when my mom passed away, happened when was young. Losing her took a toll on him, and he… he lost himself in his grief. He didn't know how to take care of me, how to be there for me."

He pauses, his words carrying a sense of pain and regret. "To cope, he turned to gambling. It started innocently enough, but it quickly became an addiction. And when money became short, he became desperate. That's when he turned to… other things... bad things," Megumi continues, his voice strained.

"He joined the family mafia, thinking it was the easiest way to make money. But their 'missions' weren't just petty crimes. They involved… murder. Not just anyone, though. They targeted important people, threats to the family or rival mafia members." The weight of his words hangs in the air, a stark reminder of the darkness that has tainted his family's legacy.

"But even that wasn't enough," Megumi continues, his voice growing quieter, weighed down by the enormity of his words. "He kept gambling, losing all the money he would make… And knowing he wasn't doing a good job at taking care of me, he… he sold me."

"He sold me to someone who took me in... Saturo Gojo."

"Wait… Saturo Gojo, as in our professor?" you interject, shock coloring your voice. Megumi simply nods in confirmation.

"But why are you with Toji now?" you press, your confusion deepening.

"Gojo got him locked up, but a few months ago, he escaped prison… and found me, he threatened to kill me, my friends, Gojo, if I didn't listen to his orders… So out of instinct, I complied. I didn't want any of them to get hurt."

"Why the hell would someone's father threaten to kill their own son? That's beyond messed up…" you exclaim, your voice trembling with disbelief and anger.

"He would tell me to sell these drugs to the people he's targeting so I could get their numbers, meet up with them when they want more, and then he'll come and… murder them."

"Wait… so, Haruta… he's… he's one of Toji's targets?"

Megumi nods solemnly, confirming your worst fears. "Yeah… Haruta was one of his targets," he admits, his voice heavy with sorrow.

"But… why? Why is he a target?"

"He's the son of one of the highest-ranking mafia leaders… He's killed many people before, and he was a big threat to the Zenin clan," Megumi reveals, his words heavy with the weight of truth.

"He what?!" you exclaim, your voice trembling with fear. The revelation sends a shockwave of fear and disgust through you, your mind reeling at the realization that your ex-boyfriend was not only a member of a dangerous criminal organization but also a murderer.

"This would've ended months ago… but he probably figured it out,"

"What do you mean? Figured out about the Zenins' attack?"

Megumi hesitates before continuing, the weight of his words hanging heavy in the air. "The first time I gave him drugs, it was at a party… My d—Toji—made me give him a blunt, but… he laced it with heavier shit. Like high amounts of fentanyl. That was his first attempt to kill him, but he didn't smoke it. So I tried plan B… I made him try cocaine… He did, and he got addicted."

"Wait… so his addiction started… because of you?"

Megumi's silence speaks volumes, the weight of his guilt evident in the downturn of his expression. "Yeah… I played a part in it," he admits, his voice heavy with remorse. "I didn't know what Toji had planned at the time… but I was still responsible for giving him the drugs."

"No, no, no, no, no,"

"Megumi…" your voice breaks slightly as you struggle to convey the depth of your emotions. "Do you not see how messed up this is?"

"I know… I'm so-"

"No! You don't understand," you interrupt, your voice tinged with frustration and pain. "You're the one who gave him the drugs. The drugs he got addicted to and tried making me do. That's when he became even more emotionally abusive." Tears well up in your eyes as you struggle to contain the flood of emotions threatening to consume you.

His heart shatters at your words, the weight of your pain crashing over him like a tidal wave. How could he have unknowingly contributed to the suffering you endured at the hands of your ex? The thought is like a knife to his heart, tearing him apart from the inside out.

"If I had known… If I had known you were a part of his life, I…" Megumi's voice falters, his words choked with emotion. He struggles to find the right words to express the depth of his regret, the overwhelming guilt threatening to consume him.

"I would have done things differently. I would have protected you, kept you safe from harm," he continues, his voice trembling with emotion. "I'm so sorry, Y/n. I never wanted to hurt you. I never wanted any of this to happen."

As he speaks, his words are a desperate plea for forgiveness, a fervent wish to turn back time and undo the pain he's caused. But he knows that he can never erase the past.

You step out of the car, your voice trembling with emotion, a sense of numbness washes over you. "I-I can't do this right now…" you murmur, your words barely audible.

"Y/n! Wait!" Megumi's desperate shout echoes in the air.

"Y/n…?" Megumi's voice softens as he steps out of the car, searching frantically for any sign of you. Panic sets in as he realizes you're nowhere to be seen.

i have no words.

TAGLIST <3

@lavender-hvze @xbarrjallenx @atinymonbebestay @1l-ynn @chilichopsticks @dr-fluff-meow @lost-resonance @maya-maya-56 @ichorstainedskin @luciiferslover @madaqueue @vanitywoo @hazedganyu

74 notes · View notes

the-fiction-witch · 1 day

Text

Targaryen

Media - House Of The Dragon Character - Daemon Targaryen Couple - Daemon X Reader Reader - Lymeria Targaryen (Daemon & Viserys sister, Twin to Ageon, Daughter of Alyssa and Baelon) Rating - Flirty Word Count - 2103

I smiled as I stood at the top of the balcony in the throne room of the red keep. I watched over the throne room as lords gathered, word had come that today my brother returned to the city. Caraxes had been spotted across the sky and now had returned to the dragon pit. And now it was merely a matter of time before he returned. I watched my eldest brother Viserys in his best clothes, he took his crown to wear as well as his sword to hold at his side as he sat on the throne. I did my best not to shake my head at his desire for dramatics.

But I'm sure they were purely in an attempt to keep up with my other brother's dramatics.

His footsteps echoed across the great halls long before he came into view, silence crept through the halls as he approached.

Finally, my brother Daemon came around the corner, walking his way down the centre of the opened doors, dark sister on his hip, valerian steel armour over him a crown of bones in his silver hair, he walked with the confidence of a king his armour clinking as he walked.

When he reached the base of the throne the kingsguard drew their swords and He stopped when the tip of the lord commander touched his armour.

He pulled out the weapon from the stepstones the trophy of his war offering it to Viserys,

"Add it to the chair." He said before he dropped it letting it clank and clatter on the stone floor,

I chuckled unable to hold back my amusement. Silence rang out as the commander picked up the weapon,

"You wear a crown." Viserys glared down at him, "You also call yourself king?"

"After we smashed the triarcy, they named me king of the narrow sea," Daemon smirked back to him

I felt a desire to go down there and knock their heads together, Even after all these years, they are still my brothers and they still act like children.

"But I know there is only one true king, your grace." Daemon bent the knee and removed his crown, "My crown, and the stepstones are yours."

"Where is Lord Corlyas?"

"Sailed home to Driftmark,"

"Who holds the stepstones?"

"The tides. The crabs. And two thousand dead triarcy corsairs. staked to the sand to warn those who might follow,"

Viseys stepped down from the throne letting the tip of his sword hit the stone floor, he took the crown that Daemon offered him in hand before passing it to his king's guard, "Rise."

Daemon rose to his feet once more and the two shared an embrace, it made me smile to see such a sight as the lords applauded.

"The realm owes you a great debt brother."

Daemon nodded in agreement, the lords wished him well and headed out to continue their business for the day, I headed down and adjusted my red dress embroidered in dragon scales, as I approached Daemon was talking with Rhaenyra wishing her well since he had seen her. Before he turned and smiled at me.

"Dear Sister," He cooed,

"Dear brother, it is a sweet song to hear of your return." I smiled,

He chuckled and offered his arms so I happily wrapped my own around him and we shared a tight embrace, "I have missed you Lymeria,"

"I missed you too daemon," I cooed, we pulled back and I chuckled at him, "Must you always be so dramatic?"

"You'd be bored if I wasn't." he chuckled,

"I suppose," I laughed, "I am glad you are home dear brother."

"I am glad to be home," he smiled giving my cheek a soft kiss and running his hand through my hair before he softly kissed my shoulder,

I blushed but I moved away he looked confused as to why I had moved away but I glanced at Visery's who glared at us, "Shall we walk?"

"I would enjoy a walk," He nodded and offered his arm,

I happily took it, and we headed out to the gardens to talk in private. "You must tell me of the war. Viserys refused to tell me of the proceedings even if I often asked."

He chuckled, "Oh, well, where can I start? There were many fights, and I won most of them. The men and I had quite the adventure on the Stepstones!"

"I'm sure you did, as soon as I heard the tale of the crab feeders' awful methods I admit I worried for you. Nothing could make me weep more of an evening than to think of you pinned to the beach and devoured,"

Daemon shook his head, his lips curling into a smirk "That would be a disgrace to our house to be devoured. Though not one you need to worry yourself with. I will let Nothing would ever harm me, dear sister. I always find my way out of trouble."

"you always have done. You'd think we'd be old enough now I would know never to worry you always find your way out of things," I laughed, "I'm sure Caraxes enjoyed the bloodshed?"

"Oh sure, Caraxes seemed to have an absolute blast burning, pillaging and slaughtering countless people. I think I may have had a little bit of fun myself, too,"

"I'm glad you enjoyed it, still we can hope now for some time of peace thanks to your efforts. We wouldn't want to run off again anytime soon," I smiled and squeezed his arm,

"There is always something to worry about. I am glad that the Stepstones are under our control, but something else will just turn up sooner or later."

"I'm sure your right..." I sighed "still, I hope atleast you get some time to rest once more. Time to enjoy some peace and quiet before flying off to another war"

"Rest? My dear sister, when have you ever known me to have time to rest? One thing after another just comes my way, and there hardly ever seems to be any time for me to properly rest. I suppose we'll just have to wait and see."

"I suppose so, still I am thrilled you are home and I know Viserys is too even if he doesn't say it"

Daemon's frown softened, "I'm sure Viserys is more relieved than anything that we didn't lose a Targaryen while I was away. Not to mention, we need all the Targaryen's we can get, especially with the state of this kingdom,"

I chuckled a little,

"I'm glad you find the state of our family amusing, or whatever is so funny. I'm sure there are plenty of people who would rather we weren't all so close to extinction,"

"I have never. In my life. Heard you sound so much like our father. you boys. Both of you are becoming more and more like father with every passing year, the obsession with the Targaryen legacy grows with age I think. Viserys has his models, you have your fears of our extinction. One of these days I'm going to be hearing about the power of valerian blood and steel"

"Well, is it a bad thing? Should we not be concerned with our legacy? With trying to uphold our status as the most powerful and greatest house in Westeros? The way I see it, father's priorities became my priorities. And what exactly is wrong with that?"

"nothing wrong with it I merely find it amusing," I nodded, "I know I... have only hindered this..."

"Lymeria." he sighed, "You cannot blame yourself for that,"

"But I do,"

"But you shouldn't." He said, "What happened to our mother and our brother was no fault of yours." He said stroking my cheek, "We are very lucky we have you,"

"Often it doesn't seem that way,"

"Well... Will you be adding to the Targaryen legacy?"

"ohh, dear brother. I have known for a very long time that I shall only undermine our legacy. Perhaps it is why I have not become like father as you and Viserys have. I am a woman Daemon, so like it or not I will be sold away name replaced, my children half Targaryen who will not carry the name. I hold no part in our legacy"

"It seems a shame to toss away legacy due to your lack of a cock."

"it can be, it's why so may women in our family go two routes... Either rebel against the system and cast out on their own making sure the are something for the legacy like our mother, or nymeria, or Serina Targaryen all powerful women who never married and made sure the legacy was upheld. Or... They marry within our family so the Targaryen name and valerian blood remain,"

"And of those two options, which do you intend to do?"

"I have not thought of it in all honesty"

"Well, I hope that you never have to face such a decision. The idea that you may have to makes me uncomfortable."

"as does it make me. But it is the decision that makes me. You boys go to war, do politics and such this decision is all that decides me. I know which I would choose if... It were possible"

"And that would be?"

"if possible, I would uphold the tradition of our family, and maintain the legacy. I would marry with the house another Targaryen and strengthen the valerian blood... But... As you said our family is declining and we are close to extinction. Mother and father are gone, as are all our aunts and uncles, we have only one living cousin but she has already married and her children velaryons. Viserys grieves his first wife and lusts his second. His children are young and foolish... Leaving... Only you and I." I avoided his eyes as I spoke,

but his smirk grew, "And so, you would marry me if you could?"

"I would" I blushed, "but you know Viserys would never allow it. As much as he dreams of old Valyira he often is sickened by its practices he wouldn't allow us'

"You're probably right, though, who said it would have to be a public affair?"

"What?"

"It's quite simple, really. all we have to do is keep it secret, so that no one knows."

"and what of our children? Do you expect for them to live in secret ashamed of their own heritage? Viserys would disinherit us and any children we had and at that point whatever was the point in strengthing Targaryen's blood if our children the future of the legacy are treated no better than them dragon seed bastards?"

"You're right," he admitted. "it wouldn't do any good to strengthen our house's blood and not do anything about our children. But I have a solution for that too."

"oh? Enlightened me?"

"I would keep our children, and I would declare them as legitimate. And no one could tell me otherwise, especially not Viserys. Would he disown me? Maybe. But they would be legitimate, and our house would be even better off for it."

"That's true. I wonder though if Viserys would feel threatened. After all... If we were to have children they would be Targaryen blood on both sides, his children are Targaryen and aeryn and Targaryen and high-tower arguments could be made about our children would be more Targaryen than his"

"Then that's all the better for us and our children. We'll just have to make sure that Viserys understands that our children are the future of the Targaryen legacy, I will not allow them branded as bastards. We just need to tell our brother the right words, I suppose."

"I'm sure we could, if.. it is something we each desire," I asked carefully glancing at him sheepishly,

"It is something we both desire. We've already established that having Targaryen children is beneficial, and I want nothing more than a strong line of Targaryen. I've thought about this quite a bit actually."

"Have you now? During these long nights in her stepstones? Or perhaps even before that?' I teased,

"Even before then. It's the logical thing for two Targaryens to do, right?"

"it is, I admit such a thought has been on my mind... Since even before father died"

"I see that we have not only thought of the same things but for as long as each other. I suppose that means we should make it a reality, right?"

"I would like that" I squeezed his arm and rested my head on his shoulder

"Then that's how it will be. We will show the world that our union is one to be celebrated, regardless of what people may think of it."

"We only have one person to convince. Our stubborn big brother"

"He will not deny us this, I will make sure of it. It is what is best for our family, and for our joy. Come we shall go now Lymeria see if he can still be sweetened."

34 notes · View notes

mappingthesky · 3 days

Note

“why am I always your second choice?" + planymphia 🤭

i am SO glad you asked for this anon, bc i've had something along these lines in the works for a while now.. this isn't exactly that, but here's something very close and very angsty:

There's so, so much that Nymphia loves about Jane, but right now, as Jane is storming through the apartment, there are a few things that Nymphia hates.

Nymphia hates that Jane is hurting. She hates that she's so angry she doesn't want to be touched or spoken to, that something has her shutting the door and turning on the shower and standing under the hot water until it runs runs cold. What Nymphia really hates more than anything is that she doesn't know what's wrong. That Jane has twisted her mind into tight, angry knots, and won't let Nymphia close enough to untangle them.

Nymphia sits in bed, sort of nauseated by the whole thing. There's something that unsettles her about seeing Jane, bold and unabashed and fearless Jane, so distressed. She feels helpless against it, like she's watching a storm cloud darken the sky and doesn't know the right words to quell the rain.

When Jane finally shuffles into the room she's wet-haired and puffy-eyed and silent. Nymphia's heart sinks. She knows what's going to happen next: Jane will be quiet. She'll keep her back turned while she pulls the t-shirt over her head, towels her hair, chews on her cheek. The conversation goes exactly like she thinks it will: Nymphia says something like 'baby', and it sounds like a plea, even though she hasn't asked anything yet. Jane doesn't respond, and Nymphia tries again, because she's never ready to give up on Jane.

"Hey," Nymphia crawls to the end of the bed, "what's wrong?"

"I'm okay, Nymph." Jane's voice is thin and flat and wholly unconvincing.

"No you're not." Nymphia's voice is tender and dripping with worry. "Talk to me."

Jane finally turns, not meeting Nymphia's eyes. "It's fine, babe. I don't want to talk about it."

Not with me, Nymphia thinks, because she knows what will happen when she presses. Jane's going to say something like-

"I'm good, I promise. I think I'm gonna call Saph, or Morphine, or something, and then-. "

"Jane," Nymphia hears her own voice, desperate and hardened, interjecting. And then she doesn't know what's going to happen next, because this hasn't happened before. "Can't you talk to me about this?"

Nymphia keeps trying, "I'm here, I'm listening," but Jane's already shaking her head and starting, "Nymph-".

"No," the words that have been collecting in a hard lump at the back of Nymphia's throat suddenly shift free, coming out hard and firm and desperate. "Don't shut me out on this, Jane. Please."

Jane's mouth twists and she catches her tongue between her teeth, looking like she's desperate to escape. "Just give me a few minutes with them, okay? I'll be off the phone in ten minutes and then we can just-"

"Why can't you tell me what's going on? No really, Jane. Why?" Nymphia's voice is strained, and then she feels sort of terrible because she's supposed to be comforting Jane, but her own eyes are prickling with tears when she says, "don't you trust me?"

Jane's sigh is the sound of heartbreak, and then she crosses the room to sit on the edge of the bed. Her hand finds Nymphia's shoulder and her eyes search for Nymphia's face, but she's turned away and twisting her face to hold back her tears.

"Baby," Jane smooths her hair, tucking a long, dark strand behind Nymphia's ear. "Of course I trust you, you know I do."

Nymphia sniffles. "So why can't you just talk to me about this? Why is it always someone else? Why am I always your second choice?"

"Hey. Look at me." Jane's hand moves to the small of Nymphia's back, eyes pointed with guilt when she finally faces Jane with downturned, watery eyes. "You're never my second choice, alright? Never. I never want to hear you say that again."

Nymphia chews on the inside of her cheek. She knows, and still she doesn't. Jane's expression is heavy with concern and sharpened with guilt and after a while she can't look at Nymphia anymore, because it hurts that she's the reason Nymphia thought, even for a second, that there was anyone Jane could ever put above her. The feeling slices through her, cutting deep enough to expose what she's really thinking.

"It's hard for me. To talk about this stuff," Jane says. Its a start.

Nymphia peers over, thinking for a while. "It's hard for me too," she offers quietly. "You know that. But I tell you everything, Jane."

"I know." One corner of Jane's mouth lifts into the hint of a smile, a break in the clouds. "I envy that about you, y'know. How you can just say how you're feeling."

"It's not so hard with you," Nymphia sniffles and picks at her cuticles. "Not for me."

"I'm glad, baby. You can always tell me how you're feeling." Jane says. It's a bit ironic, almost a cop out. The question Nymphia doesn't ask hangs heavy in the air. She doesn't have to say anything, Jane knows.

"I don't know," Jane says after a while, a bit tentative, her hand softening on Nymphia's shoulder. "Saph, she's gotten me through a lot. Seen the worst of it, I guess, and... well, you know how she is."

Nymphia nods, because she does know, but it's not enough. "I just want you to be able to talk to me like that. You know you can, don't you? I would never judge you."

"Yeah, I know," Jane nods, eyes unfocused and somewhere far off. "I guess.. I just get so angry sometimes. I don't know why. I don't want you to see that." There's something more ghosting behind her lips, and Nymphia doesn't think she's going to let it out. And then, Jane surprises her. "I don't want to scare you," Jane splits herself open, her voice almost a whisper.

Jane sounds so small, so vulnerable when she says it that Nymphia can't stop her bottom lip from curling into a pout. Its true, what Nymphia says when she reaches out to touch Jane's face, when Jane's eyes meet her own:

"I'm not afraid."

Jane looks back reverently. In her eyes, still red and puffy, there's a hint of a glimmer. A ray of light piercing through the darkened sky. "You promise?"

"Promise," Nymphia holds out her pinky, kissing her thumb when Jane links her own little finger and does the same. "I hate to tell you this, but you're not as scary as you think. Can you tell me what's wrong now?"

Jane sighs and flops back on the bed. And Nymphia's there - watching, coaxing, waiting. Nymphia's always going to be there. Knowing this, Jane finally lets it happen - the surrender of her entire self, the soft parts, the ugly. It happens, and when she's done talking about it and there are tears staining her cheeks and she's starting to feel just a little bit lighter, she looks over. Nymphia is still there, still loving her, and looking at her with an unexpected smile that says something like you can't scare me off so easily.

#she writes #planymphia #it would be nice if i could write something casually and not turn it into a novel but alas #prompt

45 notes · View notes

ikarust · 2 days

Text

i talk about tearing flesh from an arm with my teeth and you stare at me in horror like you haven't tasted blood before. i talk about being crushed like a small animal on a fast lane and you ask me how it's humanly possible of me to cling to the stone of the sidewalk the way i do. my mother could skin her hands at the sink and it would still not rid her from the truth that is that she has fed me her body and that she is convict to the manslaughter of her child.

quick question: how does one write about their mother without mentioning their mother? mine is a fortune teller. she tells me in the dead of the night while i am on the kitchen floor with the boning knife in one hand and and a towel in the other that i will never be loved right. that i will never find real love. that i will always suffer if i look for it.

mother knows best.

she tells me she destroyed herself for me and that i am selfish and cruel for not destroying myself for her. she begs me to be beautiful. she begs me to be the daughter she wanted to have. my friend tells me on the swing on a beautiful springtime evening that i am selfish and cruel for devouring every little piece of every damn thing that has ever tasted like love to me. and when i go home in the evening, my mother looks at me like she did the night she told me she wishes she'd killed me when i was a child. i tell everyone i am starving. my mother tells me she told me so.

i stare at the red in the ball of spit i hawked onto the bathroom floor. i retouch the scars on my thighs. i hack away at my hair with the big crafting scissors. i pray to god that i will wake up tomorrow beautiful and loveable. i wake up the same way. my mother tells me to never come back when i step out to leave for work. i tell her i am trying my best but nothing is working. she tells me she told me so. she tells me she's glad to see me in pain because i deserve it.

maybe i do deserve it.

i visit a clothing store and step into the fitting room just to see the way i am reflected back and forth in the front-and-back mirrors. i look and i see a morbid, mangled ruin the greatest what-could-have-been of all time. and by that i mean, i see a million possibilities in one. all the girls i could have been. and at the very center, where the image gets so small it's blurry and barely visible maybe i am beautiful. maybe i am loveable. maybe i find real love and maybe i don't suffer for it.

maybe i am the daughter my mother wanted.

28 notes · View notes

yacinthemorning · 2 days

Text

Birdsongs

Chapter 7

[first] [prev] [next]

Summary: The Life Pilgrimage is the biggest music festival of the century, set to take place all across the continent. Small-time rock band, GIST, and the up-and-coming alternative band, Empire, are both lucky to be among the hundreds set to make appearances, but there's just one problem. Neither can afford the travel expenses on their own. For better or worse, they're stuck with each other for the next five weeks as they try to make their dreams come true.

And, perhaps, among the chaos and music, two unsuspecting souls find one another...

Ships: Jimmy/Tango (slow burn romantic), Joel/Lizzie (romantic), Jimmy & Scott (platonic)

Warnings: Alcohol, drugs, verbal fights, theft, divorce talk

Jimmy was driver for the second day in a row.

Not that he minded. Actually, he’d discovered so far he quite liked driving, especially the trailer. It felt satisfying, the movements the vehicles made when he turned the wheel or pressed on the brakes. He caught a lot more of the scenery when he had to concentrate, also. Time just passed by faster, more peaceful. One of the few times of this trip he could stop thinking.

It was a bit funny really, because he’d waffled on acquiring his license until college, so he hadn’t gotten to drive much as a teen. Then he’d gotten together with Scott. It wasn’t something they talked about, but even when they drove Jimmy’s car the keys always ended up in Scott’s hands. After moving back in with Lizzie he’d sold his car to cushion himself. Joel was the sort of guy who refused to let anyone touch his baby, so more often than not he was driven around or carpooled. Really, the fact that Jimmy was even allowed to drive the trailer seemed wild to him, but he was glad he was.

Especially now, with everyone so quiet.

The trailer bounced on the uneven country road. There was a whistle-like squeak and a thunk. Joel groaned. Between the lights being off and the shade of the forest outside Jimmy didn’t bother trying to check on him. He took a deep breath of the morning air as it rushed past the open window, letting his hand hang against the outside of the door. There was a hum on his tongue, but he kept his mouth shut to avoid fratricide.

Another bounce, another whistle, another groan.

Shuffling footsteps slowly approached, and this time Jimmy did check the mirror. It was Tango, eyes still shut and using the walls to navigate his way up until he flopped down into the passenger seat. Jimmy smiled, “Mornin’, sunshine.”

Tango let out a grunt, head reclined and face pulled tight around his nose as he tried to adjust to the bright window. He flicked his red sunglasses out of his pocket before even daring to try opening his eyes. “What sort of mutant are you to be so perky this early?” He muttered, eyes squinted. They scanned about until they landed on the half-folded map across the dash, and snatched it up.

“One who had seven AM classes and never readjusted.” He shrugged.

“That’s such a lie.” Wheezed Lizzie from somewhere in the back. Jimmy could picture her wagging finger. “You’ve always gotten up at unholy hours and I know you know it.”

“Hey! You would have never made it to band practice all of grade eleven and twelve if it weren’t for me!”

“Twas you whom sealed my fate, oh retched inhuman beast.”

“A thank you would be fine, you know!”

Thump, whistle, groan.

Tango snickered. “Alright, so where’s the hospital?”

“Should be a few miles up the road in another town.” He reached over, tapping a red H located on the map. “Another ten minutes probably. There’s a Ricky’s across the street from it so we can meet there for breakfast and sort all our stuff back into the right vehicles.”

The mention of food elicited a happy chorus from the zombie horde. Jimmy smiled and reached over the console for his water bottle before pushing it into Tango’s face. “I refilled all the ones I could find before disconnecting the water.”

Tango blinked, eyes dilating at the speed of molasses as his brain clicked back into reality. “Look at you, thinkin’ of everything. What’d we do without you?” He grinned and took the bottle. Jimmy felt his cheeks warm, back straightening up as he turned his attention onto the road.

Thump, whistle, groan.

His hold on the wheel tightened. “Well, all the responsible people are at the hospital, so someone has to do it.”

“I’m not sure going to the ER ‘cause of a bar brawl screams responsible.”

The bottle clunked back into the console, Tango scooting forward in his seat to lean his head back. Not on Jimmy’s watch. “Says the man without a seatbelt on.” He said, then cringed. It sounded so much more obnoxious when he said it aloud. If it bothered Tango he didn’t show it, fumbling for the belt with one hand and eyes closed.

“Ah well, stuff like this is gonna happen.” Tango said. “Better to get it out of our systems early, right? It’s all smooth sailing now.”

“Are you trying to dare the devil or something?” Joel interjected from his seat, giving voice to Jimmy’s thoughts.

But Tango waved him off, “What? That’s how you’re supposed to do it. Go wild the first little bit so everything after feels like a walk in the park! That’s how we’ve always done things, shakes off the nerves.”

Jimmy wasn’t so sure that’s how it worked, but he certainly hoped it was. As much fun as last night had been, it was probably for the best it was behind them.

A sign flashed by, almost too fast, telling Jimmy it was finally their turn off the freeway. Trees gave way to a town that was more of a giant truck stop, uncomfortably sparse with everything paved over, and enormous signs advertising fast food joints and gas prices heads above the tallest building. Actual homes were scattered further out in the hills or awkwardly dotted among the half-empty parking lots, their picket fences and old shingles all that was left of when the town must have been much quainter.

Their bandmates were already waiting for them outside the hospital, and five minutes later they were piling into Ricky’s for brunch. Judging from its proximity to the hospital and the fact that Jimmy could recognize several faces at the other tables, it probably wasn’t a surprised the waitress didn’t question why they all smelled worse than they looked. Scott managed to escape with only a split lip and bruise under his eye, his stitches being for a long cut up his forearm. Fwhip was not as lucky. Gem was already busy making fun of the man who looked like he’d been one with the bar floor mid-brawl. She was one to talk, given the black eye she sported. Jimmy was pretty sure he saw her nearly bite someone’s ear off, though, so he abstained from interrupting her.

With ten people their orders came in rounds. First came Pearl’s omelette with the works alongside Scott’s bennies and Skizz’s ridiculously huge grand breakfast that seemed to be three of everything. It was less ridiculous when Jimmy realized he was sharing with Impulse. Then came Gem’s clubhouse, Fwhip’s chicken tenders, and Lizzie’s fish and chips. After that was Joel’s bacon cheddar burger, and finally-

“Here you are, buttermilk pancakes.” The waitress announce cheerfully as she slipped one plate in front of Jimmy and another in front of Tango, placing a single plate with butter, strawberries, and maple syrup between them. Or, rather, directly in front of Joel, who was sat in the middle of them and giving Jimmy the most unimpressed look. It was his fault for insisting on sitting across from Lizzie instead of beside her.

Tango snatched up the butter, seemingly unsatisfied with the single square already atop it. In the process he all but pushed the strawberries onto Jimmy’s plate. More than fine by Jimmy. “So, Miss Manager, what’s the verdict on getting to the venue today?” He asked, giving Jimmy a thankful grin when he was passed the syrup that made Joel pretend to shove his knife down his throat to gag. Jimmy knocked his leg.

Pearl hummed until she could swallow. “Should still be able to make it if we just keep going, maybe ten or eleven?”

Just shy of twelve hours with breaks and dinner. “Y’okay to drive that long on your own?” Piped up Impulse, the only other person without a headache or head wound.

Jimmy nodded, “Think so.” He frowned, looking the man up and down. “Um, would you prefer to switch?” It may have been Impulse’s car, but it was still cramped compared to the trailer. Impulse waved him off, though.

“We need more buns and salad before we go.” Chimed Gem.

Skizz balked. “What? What happened to the tub of macaroni salad?”

“Someone left it out.”

“Hey, don’t look at me. I hate that stuff!”

“Sounds exactly like something someone who left it out would say.”

“Why does it matter? You didn’t have to throw it out, one night wouldn’t hurt it.”

“Um, ew? It absolutely would!”

“Yeah, I gotta agree, it’s pretty nasty...”

Joel smacked the syrup right out of Tango’s hand as he passed it over the shorter man’s head. It clattered to the table, rolling off into Jimmy’s lap. “Joel!” He shrieked, pushing up out of his chair. The case hooked over the back of his chair clattered loudly to the ground, wringing winces from those around him. Both his shirt and jeans were coated in sugar. Everyone paused in their arguments to watch Jimmy squirm in his own skin. The whole restaurant was, actually. Jimmy’s face turned beet red, grabbing a napkin to try and at least wipe down his arms, but the thin paper just curled and tore and created a worse mess. Joel just laughed.

“Here, dampen it.” At the very least Pearl tried to help, dabbing another napkin into an untouched glass of water, but it didn’t help much.

He sighed in resignation, and began to pick up his poor guitar. It was a delicate process not to get it coated as well. “I’m going to the bathroom.”

“We should find somewhere to do laundry, too.” He heard Scott say behind him. “Some of you have been wearing the same clothes for a few days now and you can smell it.”

Several individuals protest, all people Jimmy knew for certain qualified for that statement. He hurried along before he could get caught in the crossfire.

The dryers were taking their damn time.

Tango chalked it up to the things looking about thirty years old and beaten to crap by who-knows-who.

The washers rumbled under him, eyes glued to the ever spinning clothes. Goosebumps ran up his arms from the air conditioning, a constant reminder he was stuck in his undershirts and shorts. His own fault for throwing all his clothes into simultaneous loads. There was the softest tune under the hum of machines emanating from a portable radio in the staff booth echoed by his bass. He’d taken a page out of Jimmy’s book and brought it in with him. Of course, he wasn’t about to plug the thing in, lest the ancient temple’s Edwardian era wiring explodificate and leave them with nothing but wet clothes and sadness. That didn’t mean he couldn’t strum along to the Steve Miller Band while longingly watching the concrete outside bake.

“How does he do that?”

Tango let out a screech like a shot seagull, almost falling off the washer. When had Jimmy and Gem gotten here? How long had he spaced out? The two weren’t even paying Tango any attention while Jimmy slipped his case off his shoulder and popped it open. Gem dropped a grocery bag and hopped up on the washer beside him, enclosing the tallest between her and Tango, while he organized his fingers along the strings. “What?” Tango finally asked, grabbing the two’s attention.

“That little- like, the cat call.” He muttered, mimicking the whistle. Hands absently adjusted to what he thought might be the proper notes.

Gem reached out and adjusted his ring finger. “I’m pretty sure it’s that, then you just sorta...” She pulled away, air-guitaring the motion for him to copy. He did so, but without being plugged in it was hard to tell if he’d gotten it for certain.

Tango’s eyes followed the movement of his left hand. Theoretical tones played along in his brain. Too stiff. He scooted around until he was facing them. “Here.” He called for their attention. When Jimmy’s curios gaze shifted from Tango to his bass Tango showed his own attempt at the segment. One he’d done long ago but not since. Both guitarists had their eyes glued to his hands, making him second guess every single choice he’d ever made in life that put him here, thinking he could teach other people how to play their own instruments while in his skivvies in public.

They foolishly mimicked him anyways, pleased with whatever popped up in their own mind’s eye. Tango went back to strumming along with the actual bass. Gem happily jumped in as well. “I’m a joker, I’m a smoker, I’m a midnight toker, I get my lovin’ on the run,” she sang, too pretty. Jimmy quickly picked up after them on the guitar after a stumble in the first notes. Something Tango was beginning to suspect he was incapable of not doing. For someone who spent his time on stage just setting the beat, Tango thought Jimmy handled the solo better than expected. The lazy guitar was well out of his comfort zone, though, his movements still stiff.

Both men half-heartedly joined Gem’s singing as the song came to an end, her hands slapping the lid of the machines as some type of drum. Tango’s nose began to itch. The song faded out and the channel host piped up. At the same moment the machine Tango sat on ended its cycle, buzzing at him. All of it was drowned out by the loudest sneeze Tango had ever suffered, the force of which was enough to knock him right off his precarious perch. Enough to scare his companions.

“I think Skizz’s grandma heard that!” Gem laughed.

But Jimmy frowned, “Do you need a sweater?”

“S’in the dryer still.” He sniffled, trying to keep his eyes from watering.

That didn’t deter the guitarist, who went for their laundry bag, then stumbled outside towards the trailer when he didn’t find what he was looking for. Tango wondered if he even noticed he still had his guitar around his neck, case abandoned. Another machine buzzed, this time a dryer.

“He’s definitely going to bump off the doorway.” Gem whispered. On cue, Both ends of Jimmy’s poor guitar slammed into either side of the trailer, almost throwing Jimmy to the ground. He stood there, confused, before he hugged his guitar to his shoulder and went in sideways. Tango raised an amused eyebrow towards Gem, who was trying not to laugh too loud. “Oh, silly Jimmy.”

“Can’t say I wouldn’t do the same.” Tango tried to defend even as he also began to giggle. He absently grabbed for the laundry bag and yanked open the dryer. The warmth soaked into his skin.

Gem rolled her eyes and sent him a pointed, unimpressed look. “That’s ‘cause you’re also a silly goose.”

“Guilty as charged.” He couldn’t exactly defend himself on that one. So, he changed the subject. “You two play well together.”

There was a hum Tango thought might have been agreement. “We picked up guitar around the same time, so we learned together from my mum.”

He’d heard it before. How Gem had gone from only wanting to sing as a kid to feeling embarrassed it was all she could do in her teens. Nothing wrong with expanding your horizons, he had told her. As often as Tango experimented with new instruments he always wandered back to his bass.

“You were part of Empire, then?” He asked.

Gem shrugged, “Not really? I mean, we played together and Lizzie and Scott were writing some songs, but the band didn’t really exist yet. They talked about it a lot but I don’t know, guess I knew from the start I wouldn’t end up playing with them.” She grinned, “I have way more fun with you guys, anyways!”

Maybe it was just his imagination guilt tripping him, but it felt like there was something almost determined and a bit desperate in her last statement. He looked away. “It’s been fun playing with you too, Glitter Girl.”

The door creaked open, and Jimmy tripped through it. One hand held his guitar flush to his chest, while the other was wrangling a familiar blanket that had been rapidly unfolding itself. “I couldn’t- Scott wouldn’t let me mess with the clothes he already folded, but...”

“Thanks, partner.” Tango smiled, letting the man throw it over Tango’s shoulders like a cape. He didn’t bother to mention that he now had access to several pieces of his own clothes. It couldn’t hurt to wait for the second load. What was he going to do, suddenly be even more embarrassed than he already was? Besides, the blanket had trapped its fair share of warmth from the dryer, and Tango was very quickly sinking deeper into it.

Jimmy’s smile was shy, cheeks just slightly rosy, before he turned towards his guitar case. Leaned out of the way, Tango got a clear view of Gem once more, who had her clasped hands to her cheek and was making kissy faces at Tango. Like the responsible adult he was he stuck his tongue out at her. She giggled. Well, at least he had company now.

It was ten to eleven when they rolled into the next venue. They were lucky to do so, as check in would close for the day after eleven. The very grumpy and tired staffer was particularly adamant on reminding them of that fact through the entire process. They made it, though, and they parked in their place. A gravel lot used for parking, with no room for much else between vehicles. Worse yet, there was separate designated spaces for cars and trailers, so the car wound up a quarter of a mile away. It all sucked, to be frank, but it also didn’t matter. Everyone was too tired and too excited to care. Everyone except Scott, at least, who was already preparing a speech that would make whatever poor worker he would confront tomorrow morning about these inconveniences wish they were never born.

For the rest of them, though, it was bed time.

By this point in their journey, Jimmy had become used to waking up wrapped around Tango. It was cold at night and the man was practically a furnace, sue him. The sun had yet to rise, but there was a subtle thumping from the bathroom before Scott walked out, sans makeup or patience. His exhausted glare landed on Jimmy and warped into a raised eyebrow. Jimmy’s face turned pink, rolling over and burying it into Tango’s hair. No confrontation came of it, only a snort. Still, he waited until the door rattled close. Someone else in the trailer groaned, but no one got up.

After a long moment of debate, Jimmy decided to begrudgingly get up. Someone should make breakfast, and he was on a usefulness streak lately. When he sat up, though, Tango’s face scrunched and he was pulled in tighter. Jimmy muffled a snort, “I’m not your teddybear, you know.” he murmured to the sleeping man. A pillow seemed to suffice as a replacement for Tango. It did not do so for Jimmy himself, who was now surrounded by freezing morning air and clinging to his equally cold guitar. Right, sweater first, then teeth.

Ten minutes later Jimmy made it out of the trailer without waking anyone else. Scott was, predictably, nowhere to be seen. Whoever their neighbour was to be had yet to arrive, so Jimmy got to work pulling out the folding table.

The smell of coffee woke someone up. Jimmy was halfway through setting up chairs when something inside slammed against the wall. That, or someone went face first into the bathroom door. Pearl’s face poked out the door, hair still twirled up in a braid and a sheepish smile on her face. “How’s it going out here?” She half-whispered.

“Was about to mix up scrambled eggs.” He explained, motioning towards the table. Milk, cheese, and the whole carton of eggs patiently waited next to an unopened tray of breakfast sausages and bag of hash browns. “We got some miniwheats if you want something now, though.”

“I can wait.” She flopped down into one of the folding chairs, next to the one Jimmy’s guitar was leaned in. He threw her an orange juice at the very least. “So, where’d Scott run off to?”

Jimmy tilted his head, frowning. Not that he was an expert, but that was most certainly not Pearl’s usual tone. She was focused on getting the straw into her juice box when he looked to her, though. Was he still half asleep? “He’s-”

“Right here.”

Now that tone Jimmy was an expert in. Tired, cranky, and done with everything, but, like, while still covered in glitter and a spotlight. There was no way to tell if he was actually enraged or just wanted to put on a show. Either way, Jimmy counted down with perfect timing to Scott’s hand slamming against the table and letting out the world’s longest sigh. “The organizers at this venue are absolutely incompetent.” He whined, head lulling dramatically as though he’d been shot. A show it was.

“Oh really? How so?” Pearl indulged.

“Well, by not even being awake yet, for one.”

“It’s six AM, mate. Give ‘em at least until eight, there’s like five people here at this point.”

Scott pouted, glancing off into the distance as if he was really considering it until he huffed. “I’m awake now, though, and I want to give them a piece of my mind.”

“A piece, or the whole pie.” Jimmy teased, pointing the whisk at him before turning towards the eggs.

There was a gasp, “Jimmy! Of course not.” There was an odd quiet moment that followed. One that had Jimmy worried until he heard the hash brown bag shake. His head shot up in time to watch Scott place the frozen bag back into the cooler.

“Hey!”

“They’ll thaw.” Was his only explanation before he went to sit down.

Jimmy’s nose scrunched up in annoyance. “They’re just hash browns, it’s not a big deal.”

“I don’t want to have to buy a whole new bag like the salad.”

Another protest almost left his lips, but they clamped shut as he watched Scott run his hands over his face. Bags under his eyes and bruises all over his arms still. You said it yourself, it’s just hash browns, not a big deal. He went back to preparing the egg mixture and setting the table, waiting for more folks to awaken. If Scott needed to stick his nose in things to get over his mood it wasn’t his business.

Pearl had much stronger words for him from what Jimmy could make out from her tone, though too quiet to catch much of what it was. Given he heard something about punching Jimmy guessed it was about the bar still. He snorted, good luck with that. Scott had always been a messy drunk, like one of those toy cars. The tighter he wound during the day the worse it was when he let go. Something people had to learn on their own, he supposed.

Some time later Impulse and skizz tumbled out of the trailer, perkier than any of them, and Jimmy was finally allowed to pull the hash browns out of the cooler.

Jimmy was sitting with his chin up on his guitar when Tango stumbled out, last of the whole bunch and clinging to the pillow Jimmy had left him with like a lost child. He caught sight of Jimmy and beamed a toothy grin his way even as he shivered like a leaf in the cold morning air. Whatever was left of Jimmy’s earlier sour mood flew away. “Anything left for me?” He asked.

Skizz answered, putting sombre hands on the sleepy man’s shoulders. “You know what they say, Top. Early bird gets the worm. I’m afraid you’ll have to starve.”

“I made you a plate already.” Jimmy announced, pulling the pot lid off the plate sat behind him and holding it out. “You’ll have to make the toast, though, if you want any.”

A smug little noise left Tango along with a matching look towards Skizz, “Thank you, and that I do.” He then turned to the toaster and spun the dial all the way up to charcoal levels. That, Jimmy mused, was a practice he could never get behind. But to each their own, he supposed.

Then something whistled.

There was no thump.

And others paused.

“Okay, what is that?” Joel hissed as he approached the tires. “There a leak?”

“Never heard a leak sound like that.” Impulse chimed in with concern and joined him. Jimmy pulled his case closer.

Another whistle. Another no thump.

That one had Pearl, Scott, and Skizz all joining in the search for the defect. Lizzie worried the hem of her shirt. “Oh gosh we only just got to the second venue. I hope nothing’s broken.”

“You okay?” Tango asked, and it took Jimmy a moment to realize it was directed at him. He shrugged back and buried his face in his case.

“It’s from in here!” Skizz called out. The storage lock clicked open. “Kinda sounds like- WOAH, HEY!”

The whistle turned into a frantic flurry of chirps and rattles. Someone nearby gasped.

“What in the world-”

“Is that a bloody bird?”

“Oh my god!”

“Stop! Don’t open it!”

“Who would...”

“Put it down, put it down!”

Metal clanged against the gravel lot. Jimmy finally peeled himself apart enough to peek out at the scene. Most of the two bands were surrounding a painted cage, where a little yellow bird was flitting about in a panic. Instantly three sets of eyes turned onto him instead. Lizzie, Joel, and Scott.

“Jimmy.” Scott said with great strain.

Jimmy shrunk away, face twisted. “What?”

“I couldn’t help notice you don’t seem all that surprised.”

“Wait a minute, I’ve seen this before.” Skizz interrupted them both, kneeling down next to the cage. “There was something just like this in a house next to the park.”

Lizzie’s hands went to her hips. “James Solidarity, did you steal a bird? Don’t you lie to me!”

“No!” He lied.

Joel’s hands went to his hair, a humourless laugh escaping. “Dude, what the heck, you didn’t even drink! Why did you steal a bird?”

“I don’t know!” He curled his whole body around his guitar. “I was just- everything was really exciting and- look, I’m not the one who got stabbed with a broken bottle!”

“Uh, this ain’t about me right now, dude.” Fwhip muttered, though he nudged out of the circle to hide behind his bandmates.

While his own bandmates continued shouting GIST stood to their own side, caught between shock and amusement. At least Impulse and Gem seemed shocked. Tango was doubled over, cackling like a madman, while Skizz tried to hide his giggles and failed miserably. “Oh this is too good.” He said. Pearl had her own hand over her mouth, impossible to tell what his emotions were except from the wrinkles in the corner of her eyes. None seemed angry. It made Jimmy feel much better, if he could only block out the yelling from his peers.

He launched forward, spurred on by a new wave of confidence, “Look, I know it was stupid-”

“Stupid barely begins to cover it.” Scott drawled, rolling his eyes. “What are we supposed to do, now? We can’t just bring it back, we’re on a schedule. And what if someone saw you? Did you think this through at all?” His foot was going against the gravel, letting Jimmy know how close he was to the end of the fiddler’s nerves. For once it only put more coals on the fire. It was Scott’s fault in the first place for his own stress, he had no right to put it on Jimmy like he was the only one who did something stupid in the last few days.

No, it was entirely unfair. “Everyone’s made a fool of themselves, why are you singling me out?”

Scott gaped. Wrong answer. “Because there is currently a fucking bird in our trailer right now! That you stole and that I’m going to have to clean up!” He snapped, throwing his hands at the cage and then at Jimmy. “Why are you always like this!”

Everyone quieted. GIST’s giggles died while Empire’s various reactions all settled into concern. The indignation had fizzled out from Jimmy’s heart as well, leaving him stubbornly silent as his face heated. Scott’s chest heaved, glaring Jimmy down and oh, if looks could kill he’d be nothing but minced meat ground deep into the mud. It’s about what he felt like in that moment.

Fwhip was the first to dare break the silence, placing a hand on Scott’s shoulder that was promptly thrown off. “Hey, it’s fine. I’ll just take the car and bring the bird back.”

“No, you won’t.” Scott hissed. He tore a lighter out of his pocket. “You need to be here to sell our CDs and manage contacts while we’re performing, and you can’t do that if you’re busy a day’s drive away searching for the owner on your own, because Skizz and Jimmy are not going back with you.” As he rambled his grip shook and the cigarette he fumbled with snapped in half. It was thrown to the ground, “Fuck’s sakes...”

“Hey, buddy, calm down.” Tango interjected. He was silenced with a single side eye, but Pearl took his place.

“Look, this is entirely fixable. If Fwhip can’t go then I will, and if not we’ll find another solution. It’s not the end of the world.”

If Scott heard her he didn’t acknowledge it. Instead he stomped off towards a neon green trailer down the way, leaving the group caught in the awkward atmosphere. When some of the eyes turned to Jimmy he took up examining the gravel under his own feet.

“Well, that... was a lot.” Impulse chuckled.

Tango snorted. “A lot of bullshit.”

“Tango!”

“What? It’s true!”

“I’m so sorry, I don’t know what’s come over him.” So started Fwhip’s apologizing, rambling on explanations to avoid their bands’ collective embarrassment. Jimmy could still feel his blood simultaneously boiling and frozen in his veins and did not bother to contribute.

A delicate hand landed on his arm, Lizzie’s eyes wide and glossy. “Are you okay, Jim?”

He shook off the touch and went to grab the cage, and bolted for the door. The moment it shuttered behind him muffled conversation picked up outside, audibly tense. Instead, he put the bird down on the counter, crawled into the safety of bed, and pulled his case into his lap. The leather was cold against his forehead, cooling his quick breaths before they buffeted back against his throat.

This was inevitable. They all knew it, it wasn’t like five whole adults were completely oblivious to the winding key that had been tightening since the start of this trip. Since the divorce, really. Or maybe before. Probably before. It still hurt.

Free from the dark the bird began to chatter. What seemed so soothing days ago grated against the last shreds of Jimmy’s composure. “Shut up.” He tried to snap but it came out more like begging. Of course, he canary had no idea. The chirps continued on. He thought he might be able to feel them scraping against his brain. It was probably thirsty and hungry, the kinder part of him reminded. He didn’t want to be kind right now, though. It was all he could do not to find something to throw at the cage.

The door shook. Jimmy didn’t look up, but he recognized the sound of heavy steel-toe boots by now. There was the smallest sound of a breath catching, but no words followed. Instead the bird cage rattled, agitating both the canary and Jimmy. “Here, find some food for it or something.” The bassist whispered to someone before the canary’s cries became distant. Jimmy knew from the way the trailer tipped that Tango had not left with it, but nor had he entered further than needed to close the door. He was probably waiting for some sign from Jimmy, whether to go away or not. Not a question Jimmy was sure he had an answer to quite yet.

“You want breakfast?” Tango asked instead.

Jimmy wanted to say no, but his stomach protest. He shrugged. The trailer shook and a box thunked against the counter. At first he assumed Tango was pouring cereal until he heard the faucet and something scraping. That was apparently enough to get Jimmy to peek. Butter hit the frying pan, and he watched half-baffled, half-fascinated, as Tango poured batter into it soon after.

Cooking took only a few minutes. Really, with the instant mix it was amazing how quickly it could go. Inevitably, the fire alarm went off, startling both of them. Tango grumbled and hissed while waving a towel around. It didn’t take long, but just long enough for Jimmy to loosen the tight ball he’d pulled himself into. Giant boots still on, Tango sat down on the bed next to Jimmy and handed him the pancakes past his guitar.

They sat in silence through the first half, Jimmy slowly shovelling bites that were a bit too big into his mouth while Tango looked at everything but him. Eventually, though, the guitarist remembered his manners. “Thanks.”

“No problem.” Tango assured, even though it certainly was.

“I’m sorry you had to see that.” He said instead.

It got a shrug and a shift to a more comfortable position on the bed, accepting the silent invitation. “Every bands’ been there. Can’t tell you how many times me and Skizz have yelled at each other.”

“But not like that.” Guessed Jimmy, which from the look on Tango’s face he was right. He sighed and set his plate aside. “He’s never yelled at me before.”

“Really?” There was a skeptical eyebrow raised.

“Yes.” Jimmy shut down immediately, though his full reply took another moment to gather his thoughts. “Silent treatment, passive aggressive comments, but we’ve never yelling. Not seriously. Never had a fight.”

“Nothing at all?”

He paused. In the grand scheme of things, Tango was still a stranger. All of GIST except Gem were, really. Having someone new to talk to was great, and Jimmy wasn’t clever enough to deny his growing fondness for Tango, but he was still mostly a stranger. One who didn’t need dragging into their band’s silly interpersonal drama. Maybe, though, that Pandora ’s Box was already ripped wide open, given the incident that just occurred. If they were going to be stuck with it for the next month they at least deserved to know a bit more.

Or maybe Jimmy was just looking for an excuse to let it all out on some poor guy who was a bit too nice to him. His tongue made the choice for him, beginning to spill out the story before he thought anymore about it. “You know there wasn’t a fight even at the end?”

Tango perked up, attention fully turning on him now with a sombre expression.

“I just- there never was. I remember thinking now and then about what getting a divorce might take. Scott’s the one who organized all the marriage stuff. There’s probably something poetic in there or something.” He let out a humourless laugh. “But, one day I just sort of... did it. Nothing happened. Normal day. I just called up and asked after work, and then I had the paperwork in my hands.”

He could picture the scene quite clearly, not from that specific day but from how many times he walked through that side door. The teal paint that was beginning to chip, the colourful fish themed wind chime, the tall trashcan he always caught his jacket on no matter how many times he passed it. “Scott was sitting at the table writing a song or something. I put them down beside him and asked if he could sign them. Think he already knew, not like I do much paperwork stuff. He didn’t say anything, though. Just read it like I was handing him a flyer or anything else. I don’t know if he really was fine with all it said, it was pretty heavy in his favour since I was the one with family nearby and the house and car were his to start. But he signed it. Four minutes of reading and he just signs it and hands it back.”

“After that was like the most normal conversation in the world, too. Asked when I wanted to move out, when he should call Joel and Lizzie to come over, if I had boxes yet.” And Jimmy had replied much the same back. Of course, he knew what was going on in his own head at the time. A whole lot of nothing and everything all at once that made the rest of the day pass in a blur until he was in the spare room at Lizzie’s. It took a day before he finally had his first breakdown over it, and of course it had to be at the dinner table in front of both his sister and brother-in-law. “We didn’t see each other for two weeks, and then we were back in his studio, practising for a gig that was coming up. It was like none of it ever happened. Talked about it one more time, wrote a song about it as you do, just to get it out of our system. Peachy after that.”

“That’s a lot to just sweep under the rug.” Tango finally interjected, brow pressed into a stressed line. Saying it out loud, Jimmy understood. The whole thing was ridiculous.

He leaned back, letting his guitar fall off beside him. “But we never yelled at each other.”

A particular loose thread in the blanket had captured Tango’s attention at some point, long enough for his finger to have gotten under the weave and pulled it further. He’d turned his full awareness onto it now, unlooping his finger and trying to smooth it out despite how long gone it was. Jimmy began to think maybe Tango wasn’t the person he should be talking to about this, that it should be Lizzie, or maybe some random person in a bar. Someone who wasn’t straddling the line, unquestionably on Jimmy’s side of things.

He had the sudden urge to assure that Scott was a great guy, it was both their fault things fell apart, that he was normally kind and funny. Anything that might leave Tango with a better impression than yelling and binning a seven year relationship and three year marriage without a fuss. It didn’t make it out of his head though, past the fog of annoyance that stubbornly clung to him. Deep down he knew he wanted Tango to join him in being spiteful and angry, some sort of external assurance it was okay. Either side being validated would make him just feel like crap.

Yeah, he definitely shouldn’t have chosen Tango to talk to. He was going to blame the pancakes, who wouldn’t blab after that?

It took him a moment to register Tango was speaking again, after an eternity of silence. “You wrote a song about it?”

Jimmy shrugged, patted his case. “Quick thing in like twenty minutes. Fixed it up here and there, but it’s still pretty awful. Bunch of self-indulgent metaphors and stuff.” Scott had joked, once, that it was an example of why he and Lizzie were the lyricists and Jimmy just played guitar.

“Do you play it?”

“Just with each other.” In fact, he could count on his hands the number of times they’d played it. “Whenever things get a bit tense. Don’t think either of us brought our copy along.”

“Does it help?”

At that Jimmy had to pause. Did it? Sometimes. It helped them get back into the groove of working together in the band, reminded Jimmy they weren’t just husbands, but friends and bandmates. It probably wasn’t what they needed specifically, but it did something. So, he replied, “Yeah.”

“That’s good.” Tango said genuinely. “Maybe you guys should do that then? I don’t know, sorry, I’m not very good at this sorta thing.”

He laughed. “No, you aren’t. I thought you were going somewhere with that.”

“Listen, I’m trying!” Tango threw his hands up. “I mean if I were you I woulda knocked the guys’ teeth out, got the daylights knocked outta me back, and never showed my face again. I might still do that anyways, who knows.”

“Aw, don’t do that, I’d miss you.” Jimmy bumped his shoulder into the others, trying hard not to keep giggling.

A smirk stretched across Tango’s face, eyebrows jumping up to where Jimmy worried about the piercings in them pulling at the skin. “Oh is that the part wrong with that? Maybe you aren’t as forgiving a guy as you seem.”

“Nope, I’m an angel.”

“I’d believe it.” Tango got up. “Point is, I talk a lot and don’t say much. You two seem to have a lot to say, though, that you don’t like talking about. Can’t be to good for your noggins. Or your music.”

Jimmy sighed, and accepted the hand held out towards him that pulled him up out of bed. “No, probably not. I wouldn’t know where to start, though.”

“That one is definitely outta my pay grade. You’ll have to upgrade to Skizz or something. I’m just bozo over here.”

As he said it he reached up and squeezed his own nose, making a strange noise that took Jimmy far too long to realize was supposed to be honking. He barked, slapping a hand over his mouth. “Oh my gosh, what was that?”

“Hey! Don’t laugh at my joke!”

Jimmy burst, doubling over.

The door opened, interrupting their laughter. Joel poked his head in, looking wary only for a moment before he got a good look at Jimmy and his shoulders visibly dropped. “You guys okay in here?” He asked anyways.

“Think so?” Tango replied, gaze darting back to Jimmy, who nodded.

“That’s good. Couple of us were going to go get a look at the stages while Pearl talked to the organizers. You feeling up to coming along, Jim?”

He suddenly became painfully aware of how cramped and stuffy the trailer was, now that everything seemed lighter. “Yeah, okay.”

They were filing out when, “Oh, hey, Jimmy?”

Jimmy turned, watching as Tango’s hand hooked around the strap of Jimmy’s guitar case and lifted it up off the bed, holding it out towards him in question. A hand flew to Jimmy’s shoulder, and he blinked. “Thanks.” He muttered, taking the guitar and throwing it back into its usual place. It never felt so light.

Tango grinned, and slapped him on the back. “Alright, let’s go!”

#solidaritek #team rancher #jimmy solidarity #tangotek #scott smajor #geminitay #mcyt #trafficshipping #traffic series #fanfic #fanfiction #modern au #hurt/comfort #sharing a slice of cake

22 notes · View notes

supercalime · 11 hours

Note

I can’t believe I found people who think about this the exact same way as I do. I don’t get these hardcore buddie stans who suddenly try to make it look like buckTommy shipper are the toxic ones. I haven’t seen a single BuckTommy shipper who was rude without a reason (maybe a bit defensive about their CANON ship). Whereas I’ve seen plenty of incredibly toxic buddie stans who insult everyone who doesn’t ship their ship or share their opinions.

Another thing and don’t get me wrong Im not defending anyone. But I’ve seen many people heavily bullying the marisol actress because she’s apparently homophobic (not saying she isn’t or is) and wanting her to be gone beacause of this reason but totally ignore the alleged racism of ryan (again not saying he is racist or not, i dont know them personally) just because he is part of their beloved ship. By their logic Ryan should leave the show too.

Hey anon, it took me some time to answer your ask (chaotic life stuff lol) but I’m glad to finally have time to talk about this first part with you.

I’ll preface by saying I won’t get involved in actor drama, no matter how true or toxic it is because I don’t have enough information nor am I qualified to talk about the issues they mishandled. I’ll just say that, no matter who does bad things, they should be held accountable.

Okay, back to the main point: yes, it’s very strange how b*ddie st*ns are behaving towards the canon bi!buck thing. Both with people who ship bucktommy but also with the creators and actors on the show. Regardless if they are right or not about b*ddie being canon, this is not how you act with entertainment, specially with the people giving the content.

I hate to bash but it looks and sounds a lot like a toddler throwing a tantrum because they didn’t get a specific toy.

And toddlers only throw tantrums because they are brand new humans who are learning how to behave. They don’t know any better so they react with outbursts and repeated demands because it’s the only way they know to get the attention of the person taking care of them.

If I’m not mistaken, the main audience for the show is 18-45. NO ONE here should be yelling in comment sections “we want buddie! we want buddie! we want buddie!” as if they would immediately get it. It’s not how it works and it’s frankly embarrassing to see a bunch of adults acting like that for everyone to see.

And I can’t stress it enough, I’m not putting myself on a high ground here and saying I’m a better person by shipping bucktommy, as I’m sure there might be a percentage of fans out there being rude and annoying as well. But at least I’m keeping my conscience clear by not acting like me shipping two characters is something big enough in my life to ruin my enjoyment of a whole show in case my favorite ship doesn’t become canon.

I hate how fandoms behave as if they can have control over the content they are consuming. We aren’t entitled to anything and if there is supposed to be ANY discourse about which character was supposed to end with, that should happen AFTER the show ended! The story isn’t over yet! So why are b*ddie st*ns so stressed? If a show is making you this angry and demanding, please step aside a little, give it some distance because that’s not how consuming content is supposed to make you feel.

And I say that last part with sincerity because I too got way too involved with fandom discourse in the past, to the point that I had to distance myself from certain shows because being that involved made me upset.

Im just tired at this point you know. Im trying to protect myself as much as possible. Im not in the bird app, I don’t follow the show or the actors on social media, im avoiding interviews like the plague. All I want from this experience is to watch the show, gather my thoughts, form my opinions, log onto tumblr and reblog the cute stuff I see about my favorite ship without having to worry about whatever the hell is going on outside my pretty little bubble

#lety rambles #ask #911 #911 abc #bucktommy #tevan #firefly #firepilot

24 notes · View notes

jamdoughnutmagician · 20 hours

Text

A Slice Of Life (Waitress AU) part 6

Doctor!Steve Harrington x Waitress!Reader

<- Previous part

Word Count:2,208

*dividers by @saradika-graphics

Masterlist // Steve Harrington Masterlist

“Steve, what on earth are you doing here?” you whisper-shout as you round his table.

“I heard this was a great place to get some pie.” he says with a smile. “Plus I came to see you, I can’t stop thinking about you, Y/N”

“You can’t be visiting me at work like this, doesn’t this go against our keeping things low-profile agreement.”

“I don’t care about that, I know how I feel about you, and I’m not ashamed of that. I like you a lot, Y/N, and sometimes I think you think like me too, and I want to be the one to make you happy.” he says sincerely.

“It’s not that simple, Steve. Yes I like you, of course I do, but all of it doesn’t matter when I’ve got Billy breathing down my neck and watching my every move. He’d wring my neck if he even saw us talking together right now.”

“I know this whole situation is completely crazy, and not ideal, and hell, I’ve only known you a few short months, but you’ve worked your way into my heart.”

“Steve..”

“I’ll wait for you, however long that may be, I’ll wait for you. You’re worth waiting for.”

You fight against the tears welling up in your eyes at how patiently sweet and loving that this man was to you, your heart pounding against your chest.

You wipe your tears with the back of your hand quickly, turning away, before turning to Robin on your way.

“Uh, Rob, can you serve table 7 for me please, I need to run to the back for something.”

“Sure, is everything okay?” she asks, laying a reassuring hand on your shoulder.

“I’m fine, honest I am, thanks” and with that you were rushing to the bathroom, slamming the door behind you with a shaky breath and tears bubbling in your eyes.

Why was nothing simple?

You dry your eyes, and pull yourself together in the bathroom mirror enough to go back out into the diner, and when you look out you find the seat in which Steve was sitting bare. Robin tidying away after him.

“Hey, Y/n, that customer I just served, he sure did leave a generous tip.” she smiled as she wiped down the table with a cloth.

“That’s-uh- that’s really good, Rob, you deserve it.”

The day had felt long and tiring as you sit down with a sigh next to Nancy on the bench outside the diner.

“You waiting on Billy to pick you up?”

“Yeah” you say quietly.

There’s a beat of silence between you two before Nancy speaks again.

“You know, you’re a lot stronger than you give yourself credit for. That’s the thing that I have always admired about you, you come into work every day with a bright smile on your face, even though that terrible man is waiting for you at home.”

“I guess being here, making pies and making people happy with the pies that I make is the only time I get to escape from being Billy’s wife. We were so young we got together, and I was too dumb to realise that being Mrs. Hargrove wasn’t all that I thought it was going to be. I've been with him for so long that somewhere down the line I forgot what it was like to just be myself.” you huff, wringing your hands together in your lap. “Not Billy’s wife, not Mrs. Hargrove, just Y/n.”

“Well, you know what? Just Y/N happens to be one of my best friends, and I’m so glad that I get to exist in a world with you in it.” she smiles. “And I’m sure as hell this baby is going to have one of the best mothers that they could ever want for.”

Just as you were settling into the warmth of Nancy’s kind words you’re brought out of it by the blaring horn coming from Billy’s car as it cruised to a stop in front of you.

“Alright, well I’ll see you on Friday Nance, I love you.” you give her a final hug before getting up.

“I love you too darling, take care of yourself.”

You close your eyes as best you can, desperately trying to fall asleep and ignore Billy’s presence in the bed beside you, but that proved to be an impossibility as his form leered over your shoulder, placing a trail of kisses to your shoulder.

“Babe, I know you’re awake, why don’t you come a little closer and treat me how a good wife treats her husband, huh?” He says in that way he does when he’s trying to get what he wants from you. It makes your skin crawl.

“I don’t feel like it.” you mutter, burying yourself deeper under the covers of the duvet in the hopes that somehow the world would just disappear around you.

“What makes you think you have that option, hmm?” his hand traces up your arm, and it’s all you can do to close your eyes as he leans close, his voice in your ear. “I feed you, I pay for the roof over our heads, I put clothes on your back, c’mon all you gotta do is reach behind and give me a little hand-job or something? I ain’t askin’ for the world, sweetcheeks,”

“Billy, please, I’m really tired. I just want to sleep.”

“Fine, if you’re not going to look after me, I guess I’m just going to have to take matters into my own hands.” he grumbles, before getting out of bed and making his way to the bathroom. “I’m gonna go have a shower and jerk off since you wanna be a bitch about it.”

The bathroom door closes behind him and you suddenly let go of a breath that you didn’t even know you were holding on to. A relief washes over you, finally a chance at peace. You snuggle down into the sheets, laying a protective hand settling around your growing bump.

Dear Baby, I hope someday someone wants to hold you for twenty minutes straight, and that’s all they do. Without any expectations, hope or agenda, and they don’t pull away. All they do is wrap you up in their arms and hold on to you tight without an ounce of selfishness to it.

Steve had texted you, apologising for showing up to the diner unannounced, asking you for the chance to make it up to you. You told him that it was fine, that his apology wasn’t necessary but he still insisted so, you told him to come to your house at 8.00 am sharp, but to stay behind the cover of the trees on the opposite street, watching out for Billy as he took off for work for the day.

Pregnant, affair with your doctor, lying to your husband pie. Chopped walnuts and pecans, lumpy oatmeal with raisins instead of chocolate chips thrown in for good measure, flambé, of course..

At 8 am sharp there’s a knock on your door, and you can’t help the excited buzz you feel settling its place in your heart. You pad your way towards your front door, waddling slightly as you walk, the past few weeks in your pregnancy had suddenly made the easy, everyday things very difficult and tiresome. Your belly was now rounding out in front of you very prominently, there was certainly no hiding the fact that you were pregnant now.

“Hey, I just wanted to apologise for upsetting you last week, I didn’t mean to just show up to the diner unannounced like that, but I was driving past and before I knew it I was pulling up just to come and see you.”

He’s dressed in a simple and soft navy henley shirt, and pair of light-wash denim jeans, his hair flounces in a perfectly messy style that on anyone else would have looked unkempt, but he carries it off so effortlessly. As you bring him in for a hug, his warm and woodsy scent fills your senses, wishing he would hold you for just a bit longer, if only to be surrounded in his welcoming warmth.

“That’s really sweet of you, Steve. Why don’t you come in?” you say, standing back and opening the door for him to come through. “Billy’s gone for the day, and I’m off work, so I was going to spend my day trial-running a couple of new pie flavours, you wanna join me?”

“I would love nothing more.” he smiles in that glorious way that he always does, pink lips curving into rose-tinted cheeks.

You set out all your ingredients and mixing bowls on the kitchen’s work table, before reaching for your apron that hangs on the hook of the kitchen’s door.

“Here, let me.” Steve says as he takes the apron from your hands, and pulls it over your head. The material clinging to your belly. “Turn around for me.” and as you turn around, you feel his strong hands tying off the strings of the apron in a neat little bow at your back.

You bring out the pastry you had already made from the fridge before handing it over to Steve.

“Here, do me a favour, sprinkle some flour down and roll this out for me please.”

He does as you ask, dusting the worktop in flour before placing down the pastry and rolling the rolling pin over it.

“How’s this?” he smiles looking at you from over his shoulder where you are mixing together the filling for the pie on the stovetop. A slowly stewing mixture of pink rhubarb, green apples and red cherries, bubbling together in a sugary sweet-syrupy mixture.

“Looks good, now all we’ve got to is blind bake the pie shell for a couple of minutes whilst this comes together.”

“Mmhmm” he hums gently, the pie shell in its tin ready to go, left out on the worktop for a moment as he turns his attention to you, brushing your hair away from your neck as gently kisses your soft skin.

“Y’know, it was my mom who taught me how to bake a pie. I would sit on the kitchen counters every time and just watch her as she worked. She was always so happy in what she was doing, not once did I ever see her in the kitchen without a smile on her face. She’d come up with all these different flavours and combinations and it was delicious every single time. She’d always tell me that the secret ingredient was love, and I don’t know if I ever fully believed her until I started baking for myself. She’d always give the pies the strangest names too, like ‘Bed-Time Story pie’ or ‘Summer Vacation pie’, my favourite one was ‘Pretty Baby pie’, she told me that that was the pie she made when she found out she was pregnant with me.”

“And what’s this one called?” he asks, nodding towards the mixture of fruit bubbling away on the stove.

“Well let’s just call it, hidden lover’s pie” you smile, turning the stovetop off and turning to look at him and as he looks back at you he cups your face in his hands and kisses your lips so sweetly. Pulling back from your lips he smiles at you so warmly.

“You're so beautiful.”

“I’m fat.” you laugh softly, resting a hand on your baby bump.

“You’re pregnant, there’s nothing in the world more beautiful than that.”

“Well I sure as hell don’t feel beautiful. I’m tired and cranky, totally not prepared and have no idea what I’m even doing. Just thinking about having this baby makes me scared as hell. I don’t know how to be a mother.”

“Nobody knows what they’re doing the first time they have a baby. I mean, my friend, Eddie and his wife had a baby not too long ago, and that man was the most nervous, terrified, panicked father-to-be that I had ever seen, but as soon as I delivered that little baby girl and he got to hold her in his arms for the first time? It was like a switch flipped in his brain and it all suddenly clicked into place.”

“You delivered her?”

“Yeah, little Lydia Munson, I’m her god-father too. She’s a sweet kid, and her parents love her so much, she makes them very happy.”

You give a short hum as Steve takes your hands and pulls you close to his body, wrapping his arms around you in a safe, loving hug.

“..She makes them happy, just like being right here, with you in my arms, makes me happy.” he says, and with that he wastes no time in kissing his lips against yours once more, one hand tangled in your hair, the other hand is a steady presence on the curve your hip as he leans into you more to deepen the kiss.

You make me happy too, Steve, more than you could ever know.

You allow yourself this moment of quiet and blissful peace in Steve’s arms. A chance to let yourself just be taken as you are, not as Billy’s wife, not as the waitress from the diner, just as Y/N, nothing more, nothing less.

@keerygal @penguinsandpotterheads @mrsjellymunson @paybacksawitch @seatnights @ali-r3n @potatobeanpies

#Steve Harrington x reader #Steve Harrington x female Reader #Steve Harrington x reader series #Steve Harrington x female reader series #Steve Harrington fluff #Steve Harrington x reader fluff #steve harrington fanfiction

21 notes · View notes

jamiedc-they-them · 2 days

Text

Good People (Platonic)

Summary: While in the Wasteland, running on nothing but fumes and even less hope, you meet someone. Someone who might just be the one thing you need in a place like this: a friend.

Note: This is shorter than my usual stuff (both in terms of words, probably, and also just in terms of content - more so a scene than anything else; maybe a series of short scenes showing Lucy's arc if you guys want and how her friendship with Y/N develops?) Let me know in an ask!

You were a survivor. You had been since the moment you were born, but you weren't sure how much longer that was going to last.

Your day hadn't started off good, you see. You were running out of water and had passed out earlier due to some kind of infection - no idea what it was or who/what it was from, you had come across a lot of beings and things in your travels - and some guy had thought you were dead and even pissed on you just in case. Was not refreshing, or nice.

You had fought him off, tackling him to the floor and punching him quite a few times. You didn't kill him, however. You just left him be after that.

An odd fellow with a briefcase who promise you everything you could ever want passed you by. He gave you something that gave you a boost. You had no caps, so the only piece of fluid you had left on you - your water container - was given to him in exchange for this item.

So, now you were even more screwed then before.

The man even seemed to somewhat pity you, but he still left.

You find an abandoned bus. It's been picked, recently or otherwise doesn't really matter, picked clean is picked clean. Or, well, as clean as you can get within the apocalypse.

"Hello?" a voice says. You spin around, reaching for a weapon you don't have as you lost it in the scuffle before, and so instead duck down - hitting your head on one of the seats.

You hear the person outside cringe.

"Sorry," she says, earnestly to your shock, "that sounded like it hurt."

"...It did," you find yourself saying in reply, but still keep your head done.

"Sorry," she says, again, "it's ok," she assures you, "I won't hurt you. I promise."

You peak your head up. The first thing you notice, is how clean she looks. She gives you a bright smile.

"Hi," she says, enthusiastically.

You just blink at her.

"It's ok," she assures again, "my weapon is away. I just - I just wanna talk. I'm a bit lost out here give, you know, everything is mainly just sand."

You guess that's fair. So, against your better judgment, you make your way to the stairs at the bus, and sit down. The woman sits down, letting out a sigh, glad to be able to rest for a moment.

She stretches. You adjust your neck. You must've slept funny.

"I'm Lucy," she says, holding out a hand to you.

"Y/N," you say, shaking her hand. Feels weird, being this open with someone.

"Y/N," she says, "that's a nice name. I never knew someone called Y/N before."

You're about to ask her why, when you see what she's wearing.

You whistle, or as best you can with a dry throat, it's croaky but the idea comes through, "you one of them Vault Dwellers?"

"I am," she says, and you're unsure if it's a proud statement or not, "but, I do also recognise my privilege for being one."

You hum, "how you finding up here?"

"Hot," she says, "we have air conditioning in the vaults. So, it's weird not being able to just turn down the temperature."

You chuckle. She smiles.

"Thank you for not trying to kill me."

You gesture to yourself, "don't exactly have anything to do that with, you know? Besides, you're not a bad person. I've met some bad people, you ain't one of them."

"Thank you. I knew there were good people out here."

You shrug, "I don't think I'm exactly 'good', but I've known worse."

"Well, I'm glad I've run into you. You're alot nicer than the previous man I met."

"Yeah, there'll be people like that..." you pause, then ask the question on your mind, "what brings you top side, Lucy?"

"Oh," there's a hint of hope, mixed with sadness in her eyes while she answers, "I'm looking for my dad. Some horrible woman called Moldaver took him. She steals dads."

You may internally find that last part funny, but you find yourself saying 'I'm sorry' to her about her plight. She thanks you once again.

"You're not crazy like that other man."

She's blunt, you'll give her that.

"I can be," you don't quite know why you're insulted by it.

She cocks her head to the side, "I'm good at reading people," you aren’t sure on that one, but you don't say anything, "and you're not like that previous man."

"What'd he do?"

"Drank most of my water. You ever met anyone like that?"

"Guy pissed on me this morning. Another stole my canteen."

"Oh..." Lucy says. You nod, expecting this to be the end of your conversion, but then she reaches behind herself for something. Instinct makes you freeze, but she just gives you a reassuring smile once again, and holds something out to you.

Her own canteen.

You look at her, doubt, confusion, and thanks all in your eyes at once.

"Take it," she insists, shaking it a little to tell you that there is still water inside it, "I mean it."

"But, that other man --"

"He's greedy. You aren't. And, judging by your lips, rough voice, inability to whistle, and slight grovel to your voice, and the way you hold yourself," perceptive too, "you need this more than I do."

"You sure?" she nods. Hesitantly, looking from her to the canteen as you reach out - her leaning forward to help you with your lack of energy due to dehydration and all - you grab it. It's not harsh, you don't rip it out of her grasp. Your actions are slow, deliberate.

You open it, and lift it up to your mouth, letting a few water droplets hit it.

You close it and give it back to her. But she pushes it to you again. This goes on a few more times.

"I meant what I said," she says, "take it."

You look around at the desert, "next water well won't be for a while."

She shrugs, "there's a town nearby. There should be some there. But, either way, you need this a lot more than I do."

You drink the rest of it. And, you feel ok. Not great, but better.

You cough a bit. Both due to whatever illness you have, and just from the water and how fast you drank it.

"That's a bad cough," she notes, taking the canteen back.

"Ah, it's nothing," you say, waving her off. Had worse infections.

You stand up, and she holds her hands out in case you fall. You put a hand up, telling her you're ok.

"Well," you say, "thank you for that, and the talk. Good people are few and far between. Best of luck --"

"Hey, wait!" she calls out as you start to walk away, "wait, please. Maybe - maybe you can help me."

"I ain't exactly much help given the lack of weapons, strength, and my illness."

She frowns, "well, once we find my dad, we can go back to my vault, we have doctors there who can help you and give you a good meal!"

She's preppy, but soon that softens in her eyes, "please...I can stop people from...urinating on you."

You snort at her disgust of the language. She has a lot to learn. Social ettiquite may exist in some places in the wasteland, but not everywhere.

"Well, when you put it like that..." you say, before smiling. She beams at you.

"Okey Dokey!" she exclaims.

"Okey Dokey!" you find yourself saying in kind, not mocking for once - you and your mouth had gotten you into trouble before, it was nice to not have some agenda with it this time. To let your guard down.

"Have you ever been to Filly before?" she asks you as you walk side by side. Though, she slows up a bit as you try and both get your strength back and keep your remaining bit.

"Once or twice when passing through," you say.

"Alrighty then," she says, glad to not be going in completely blind, "'this is going to be the beginning of a beautiful friendship.'" she says to you, clearly quoting something, based on her voice. You look at her confused.

"I'll show you the film when we're back at the vault," she says, before you continue on your way.

It's good to meet someone who didn't want to kill you on sight or extort you or something.

It was nice to not be alone anymore.

Lucy feels the same way. She has a sort of guide now. A friend.

An actual friend from the outside.

She's glad.

And, little did she know how right she'd be. It would be a friendship that would stand the test of time and everything in between.

Lucy had just met her best friend.

You had met yours.

Even if you both didn't know just how dark and dangerous the road ahead would get...

#fallout #lucy fallout #lucy maclean #Lucy Maclean imagine #lucy maclean fallout #lucy maclean x reader

22 notes · View notes

tokyo-debunkers-headcanons · 2 days

Note

Thank you for your service smol o7 this game has been on my thoughts 24/7 lol so it’s nice to see someone writing for it!!

I was hoping I could request some jealousy headcanons about the ghouls being pouty MC is hanging out with others so much because of their missions with other houses. In particular I was hoping for my boy Haku (I know we don’t have a main chapter for him yet but he did have those two chunks of screen time—if he’s too difficult because of not enough info don’t worry about it then!); as well as maybe Jin, Luca and whoever else you’d like!

Thanks again~

Just like another ask i got, I'm gonna write Haku based on the vibe I got from him. This could be proven entirely inaccurate in the later game and I am okay with that lol. I'm gonna round it to an even four characters. All these will be before any relationship actually happens. Like there's a crush there but no one has said anything yet.

And thank YOU for sending in a request and enjoying!

Be aware! These will contain minor spoilers for episode 3!

JIN KAMURAI

I feel like silver spoon Jin has no experience with certain types of jealousy. Materialistic jealousy? Doesn't know her. But when he heard how close MC had been getting with some of those Vagastrom thugs? Oh it made his blood boil.

At first I'm sure he thought it was because on of his orders was being defied. But that feeling only got stronger when MC was finished with Vagastrom and moved onto Jabberwok.

Good luck to Tohma because mans here does not know what to do about these emotions. This is one of those problems that can't be fixed with money and he is NOT happy about it. He goes back to brooding in his room for a while to think things through.

He will not tolerate any disrespect from any theories that the Frostheim gossip elite have. But when he noticed the like dove flying in the direction of MC'S dorm, things suddenly started to click in his head.

LUCAS ERRANT "LUCA"

Our boy here is another one who isn't necessarily familiar with jealousy. Its for similar reasons of, he comes from a well off family, but different in the way he was raised and things he's been through as a little kid.

He's glad to see MC making more friends and making possible progress on breaking their curse, at first. When they get to Jabberwok however, he hears from Kaito that their vice captain Towa is a bit of (how Kaito put it), "a fucking weirdo", which gives him some pause.

When Kaito came running up to Luca showing him a WickChat post about MC having a possible boyfriend (its false, its just Towa being affectionate and someone saw). He feels his heart sink a little bit

He made a mental note to text MC later to ask about it and get all the information he could about their relationship and about the Jabberwock students. He promised to protect MC not matter what. Hopefully they could explain the strange twist in his chest while they talked too.

ALAN MIDO

He doesn't really get jealous. Period.

I think he's the kind of guy to know how strong he is, he knows his reputation. He's tech hopeless, not a moron. So just being around him can scare off people from getting too close to MC while he's around.

He himself overheard about MC having a possible boyfriend (same post from Luca's) from Leo telling Sho. He didn't pay any real mind to it until he heard Leo mention how affectionate they were.

That's the one thing he gets jealous about. He's a bit more aware of his feelings than people might think, so he knows he has a crush on MC. He just hasn't had the time to tell them that.

The rumor takes some wind out of Alan's sails for sure. He's more likely to believe that MC would pick someone else over him since I think he'd be more hesitant on something like physical affection.

He knows his strength and he knows MC'S ability, he would be too afraid that he'd lose control and do something else he might regret, so out of everyone on this list. I think Alan would be the one to take longer to confess because of jealousy and his insecurities.

HAKU KUSANAGI

I don't remember if it's explicitly said anywhere (my memory sucks butt I'm sorry) but he gives older sibling energy with how he cleaned up after Taiga in the prologue. So I KNOW he's been worried about MC since they last saw eachother.

He was at least somewhat relieved when he found them hanging out with the Frostheim second years, but there was a pang in his he couldn't quite place. He chalked it up to just being a worrywart and left it alone.

But when he heard that MC had gone missing in episode 3, he was READY to jump in to go help the search and rescue team. His heart was racing and he was suddenly confronted with feelings that were coming out of left field (no they weren't)

When MC returns back safely, Haku has half a mind to go fight with the professor Hyde about sending the very human honor student on such dangerous missions. He keeps a much closer eye on them from now on and with his status as an heir to (what i assume) is a beloved shrine, he tries to request that MC be sent to work with Hotarubi next.

#tokyo debunker #frostheim #headcanons #Vagastrom #Hotarubi #jin kamurai #lucas errant #luca #Haku kusanagi #alan mido

23 notes · View notes

mwahsturns · 2 days

Text

First choice // Matt Sturniolo Pt 1

matt sturniolo x fem!reader

Contains: cussing, fluff, flirting, talk of death, Semi-proof read! I think that’s it let me know if there’s more! Also if there’s any grammar or spelling mistakes please ignore them 😭🙏🏻

Synopsis: Y/n works at a record store and one day while she’s working two very cute guys walk into the store but one especially catches her eye and later so happens they end up having more then just there music taste in common ;)

Word Count:1,890

Author’s notes: Hii bbys !! <3, So I’ve never written a fic before or posted on tumblr, So I’m sorry if this is bad I’m new at this please go easy on me😭🙏🏻. If you guys have any suggestions, tips or advice please message me I hope you enjoy my new series!!, this took me a very long time to come up with so I hope you love it💗.

* *:･ﾟ✧💒*:･ﾟ✧

The sound of music always brought me peace, I work at a record shop because I love being around vinyls and just anything music related really. I also really enjoy reading It's always brought me a sense of comfort as well as writing and poetry. Honestly it makes me really happy, and ever since I was a kid I've always written songs and maybe sang a little bit but that’s a secret. I don't know what it is but I always feel like it helps me forget about everything that’s wrong in my life, my parents died when I was 16 so it’s always been just me and my two little brothers. I love them more than anything and I'd do anything for them. Today was just a regular day at work I was putting vinyls on the racks that they go on when two guys walk into the store, I look over and give them a soft smile.

‘hii welcome let me know if you need any help finding any artist or vinyl specifically’ they smile at me and nod as one of the boys catches my eye, I’m a very shy person so I decided not to say anything unless I needed to. After a couple minutes I felt a tap on my shoulder, I turned around and saw the guy who caught my eye standing in front of me. ‘hi um i wanted to ask you something’ he seemed very nervous but also very confident weird mix. ‘yes of course how can i help you’ I smiled softly at him hoping to make him more comfortable, ‘do you happen to have “circles” by Mac miller’ he says as he does a side smile. I smile at him as I think about how I also enjoy mac miller.

‘yea over here!’ i walk over and pull it off the rack, ‘this is one of my favorites’ i say chuckling, ‘i really like this one’ he says turning the vinyl around. ‘what other artists do you like?’ ‘i really like d4vd and um frank ocean oh! Omg Dominic Fike omg Tyler the creator?! is so amazing and oh my god i'm rambling im so sorry’ I blushed getting a little nervous, ‘nah you're good’ he smiles as I look up at him and smile softly. We stand there until the guy he came with comes up to him ‘woah you guys twins or am I dumb?’ ‘nahh triplets’ he says laughing ’oh cool” i say and start checking them out. ‘You're the first to not ask us a million and one questions about being triplets’ he chuckles, ‘yea nah y'all will tell me over time’ I smirk i say with my boston accent coming through a little.

‘oh so you plan on getting to know us’ he smirks a little ‘oh totally y’all look cool’ I laugh, ‘you're from boston?’ The other guy says noticing my backpack in the back with the Boston logo. ‘yes i am’ i laugh ‘us too!’ ‘What's your name?’ The guy who got my eye says ‘I’m y/n’ ‘cool im matt and hes chris’ ahh Matt hot guy hot name. ‘cool!’ I hand them the bag and me and Matt make eye contact, ‘have a good day’ ‘thanks you too’ matt says smiling at me. They walk out and i really hope i see them again.

* *:･ﾟ✧💒*:･ﾟ✧

I finally got to clock out of work It was so tiring and I needed to make sure my little brothers were ok. I get to my car and get settled in and connect my phone to the aux and play “Ivy” by Frank Ocean. I’m so glad to be going home I think as I started driving I decided that I was gonna pick up a pizza for my little brothers because I got paid today and I know how much they love pizza. We aren't broke completely but we definitely struggle sometimes recently things have been rough but I finally got a promotion so it's getting a little easier I got the pizza and started heading home I got home and when i opened the door and my brothers cody and alex run up to me and ‘sissyyyy we missed you’ alex says hugging me, ‘aww i miss you too bud’ ‘sissy you bought pizza!’ Cody says looking like his eyes are gonna pop out of his head.

i walk over to alexa who’s been my best friend for years, she helps me with my brothers and just around the house ‘thank you so much lex’ i say hugging her ‘Of course love that's what best friends are for’ she says smiling softly ‘wanna spend the night and when i put them to bed we can talk?’ ‘yeah okay sure’ Alexa smiles at me while i feed the boys.

I start to give the boys a shower and as i’m showering cody he looks up at me with the biggest smile on his face. ‘sissy I wanna be just like you when i grow up.’ He says playing with the bubbles, ‘aww little c i love you a lot bub and i know one day you’ll be even better than me’ i say tearing up, cody has always been more clingy to me than Alex is but not as much, cody doesn’t like to leave my side and he is the sweetest kid ever. Him saying he wants to be like me does hurt a little because I've been through a lot of shit but the fact that I look strong in his eyes makes up for it all. I put them to bed and Me Alexa got some wine and took a seat on the couch.

‘So how was your day?’ She says sitting next to me. ‘it was good omg lex these two really cute brothers came into the shop and oh my god girl’ I say blushing thinking of Matt ‘speaking of cute brothers you know the guy i was talking to?’ ‘yes why?’ ‘this is him and his brother I’d think you like him’ she turns her phone and pulls out a picture.

‘hold up hold up let me see that?!’ i say taking the phone from her ‘omg thats the cute guys that came in today’ ‘Omg?! yeah i've been talking to chris for a minute now’ ‘matt’s pretty attractive just sayin’ I couldn’t help myself but blush i don’t know what’s wrong with me fuck Y/N get it together. ‘oooo y/n has a crush?’ ‘oh shut the fuck up’ ‘oh come on you haven’t had a boyfriend since your parents died’ she says starting to get serious, ‘i know but my brothers mean the world to me lex i need to make sure there ok i don’t have the time’ I would love to give Matt a chance but i don’t know.

‘your brothers would want you to be happy y/n/n’ she says rubbing my knee, ‘I know but it's not about me being happy i need to make sure there happy i have to be a mother figure to them they need me’ ‘i get that babes but you need to remember you lost them too your only 20 rasing two kids you need to be a kid too especially since you were forced to grow up so quick’ i look at her and nod I mean I understand where she’s coming from but my brothers are all I know. ‘i love you y/n i'm just looking out for you ima head to bed goodnight love’ ‘night babes’ as she walks off and goes to into the guest room i kinda sit there think about what she said and i mean she's right but i can’t risk something happening to my brothers. I head upstairs and head to bed because i have another day of work but holy fuck thank god it's friday.

* *:･ﾟ✧💒*:･ﾟ✧

I woke up the next morning only because my alarm for work went off and i see it’s 9:44 so i know Alexa is getting my brothers ready for school I get out of the bed and i started to get ready for work. I finished getting ready for work when my younger brother Cody came into the room with tears in his eyes. ‘sis…’ he says in a sad tone I turned around quickly and scooped him into my arms ‘aww what's wrong love?’ i say concerned.

‘i don’t wanna go to school i wanna stay home with you can you please skip work..’ he says in a whiny tone, ‘Aww bub i wish i could help but you know the rules’ When i got custody of cody and alex the court gave me really strict rules to follow, i had to make sure they were always at school, they weren’t falling and that i kept a stable job and make enough money or else they would take them away. ‘I know but i hate being at school kids are mean to me and alex’ i look at him feeling bad but i don’t wanna risk losing them. ‘I’m sorry bub if i could keep you and alex with me 24/7 forever i would’ i say hugging him tightly.

* *:･ﾟ✧💒*:･ﾟ✧

i got to work over an hour ago and to say its boring is an understatement. Just as i think that i hear the bell ring meaning someone walked into the store, i look up ready to greet them and i realize its matt. ‘Matt? Hey’ i say smiling. ‘Hey um i know this might be weird but i um.. Well so my brother chris the one that was with me last time uh i found out that the girl hes been talking to happens to be your best friend right?’ ‘yeah shes my best friend’ ‘well um she kinda encouraged me to come back..’ ‘what do you mean?’ ‘well i uh wanted to see if you were willing to go out with me… you don’t have to its o-‘ he starts to say but i cut him off. ‘Sure why not’ i say smiling i don’t know what happened but he was too sweet for me to say no to.

‘Wait really?’ ‘yea i mean i can’t deny you are pretty cute..’ ‘well thank you’ he laughs damn something about the way he laughs i dont know but it feels almost addicting to listen to. ‘Uh are you free saturday?’ ‘yeah i am’ i smile ‘sweet! Ill text you’ ‘okay bye matt’ ‘bye” he blushed a little bit as he left the shop. Shit who’s gonna watch cody and alex?!

Author’s notes:heyyy I’m back! So I hope you enjoyed the first part of this series and I’m sorry if there was any typos, spelling mistakes, etc I’ll try to fix the ones I can if I miss anything please let me know but I hope you enjoy and have a great day 💋

#matt sturniolo #chris sturniolo #nick sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #matt sturniolo x reader #matt sturniolo smut #chris sturniolo smut

23 notes · View notes