#I’m staying at his until Wednesday too I have no idea how I’m gonna survive pls help me

[dadsbongos]

Greetings! I got this idea for danganronpa AU where Nagito is like ghost "living" (or haunting idk-) his old house and the reader moves into that house and they slowly became closer and yk<3

hi i love this concept :)

Request for: Nagito Komaeda Warnings: nagito’s backstory, slight religious overtones, we breach minor ghost-fucker territory (but no actual ghost-fucking), no-killing game au also ~~~

The house itself was rather nice. Nothing too luxurious for who the previous owner was aside from the obnoxiously fancy chandelier hanging in the den.

The realtor was hesitant to explain that the reason it was selling so comically cheap was, in fact, due to the belief of a ghost. Not just any, however. It was the previous owner’s ghost.

People who even stepped into the house could feel his chilling touch. Hear quiet, shaky whispers in the night. The fireplace would crackle and burst to life at strange times with nobody near it. Visitors and almost-buyers alike would thrust their warnings to stay away upon anybody who so much as looked at the home.

But that didn’t matter much - a house was a house and it’s not like the ghost was malicious from description. Just… annoying. Perhaps a little eerie, but again, not harmful. Everybody escaped without physical injury. So, why not buy it?

Maybe the ghost just needed a friend? Death was probably a lonely time.

Bought on Tuesday. Moved in Wednesday. Finished unpacking… still pending.

It’s not like (Y/n) had anybody to impress anyways. She’d made the move for a fresh start; new faces, new stories.

The bumps began on Friday.

Sometimes they were taps. Sometimes crashes followed by the gentle rapping against the walls, as if to apologize for the loud noise.

She’d stayed through the month, undeterred by any of the ghosts’ activities.

Then the happenings seemed a little more… intimate.

A photo slowly sliding out from beneath the fridge, at first.

Three people in frame. From left to right, there was a figure with shoulder-length pink hair and a smile to make the heavens jealous - then white hair to rival a cloud-marshmallow love child, skin sickly pale and body wastingly thin - finally, brown hair with an ahoge sticking out like an antenna and posture that almost made him taller than the one in the middle. Well, not really, but attempting counted, right? 

“Which one’s you?” she asked the air, whether she was too tired, or simply didn’t care enough, to be embarrassed was irrelevant. 

A single droplet of water, from a leak she didn’t know existed until this very moment, fell from the ceiling before splotching over the face of the one in the middle.

“White hair, heavy eye bags?”

There was no response, but she took it as a yes anyway. What a pretty, pretty face. In a tragic way.

Because he did look rather ill. Frail build and purple hues under his eyes. Pretty but suffering - it made her feel bad. Of course, she already knew he was dead, but even so - suffering should always inspire empathy rather than romance.

And again, he was dead, so the likelihood of a romance between them anyway was slim to none. None. Unless she suddenly dropped dead, there would be no sweet kisses in the morning or gentle hugs from behind as one of them makes dinner. Maybe when she died, he’d be available for a ghostly date while the house gets put back on the market.

(Y/n) chuckled at the sudden thought of lightning cracking into her home, despite the sunny weather, and striking her dead where she stood. Ridiculous, but God liked ridiculous things.

The sudden thought hit her - what if that old photo was old old? Maybe he was eighty when he died and she just subconsciously signed herself up for a date with an elderly ghost?

Shaking her head, (Y/n) scolded herself for the thought. She’d already be dead by then, it wouldn’t matter what age he was...

Then, it was the scribbling on spare papers. Always specifically spares. Double copies she had put in recycling. Scraps. Even on the backs of paper-esque trash. It was an oddly considerate move for a ghost, though to be fair, she’d never met a ghost before and couldn’t tell if it was out-of-place or not for them.

The words always appeared when she was out of the room. Leaving to grab something and coming back to find the out-dated schedule for work out of recycling and on her desk with crayon sprawled over it. 

Hi 

Eloquently said, in her opinion.

“Hi?” she looked around the room, “Can you not talk? I thought people said they heard whispers…”

A bang in the other room drew her out. When there was nothing out of place, she returned to her desk only to be met with more words.

I’m Nagito Komaeda :)

“Dodging the question, huh?”

The process repeated. Bang. Nothing out of the ordinary. Return. New words.

Sorry :(

“Don’t apologize,” (Y/n) shrugged off before moving to her computer, “I’m just gonna look you up.”

A series of bangs - now that she truly listened, it sounded like a fist pounding to the drywall - resonated through the home. She did not get up nor did she pause her actions of Googling the man known as Nagito Komaeda. 

Until a piece of paper flew in from the open door.

Bad idea

“Probably, yeah,” she huffed, moving back to her computer.

Nagito Komaeda, born April 28th, first popped up as the sole survivor in an old plane hijacking report. Both parents, all plane staff, and the hijackers left dead after the plane crash caused by a meteor strike. Then he came up as a survivor of an old serial kidnapper/killer. Then as a boy who’d inherited the entirety of his parents’ fortune and won a large sum from a lottery ticket he’d found in the trash bag he was stuffed in by his kidnapper. Then as a Hope’s Peak graduate under the title Ultimate Lucky Student.

Finally, as a 25-year-old man who’d miraculously survived ten years post-diagnosis with frontotemporal dementia and advanced lymphoma before his death.

“Holy shit,” she nearly choked on her own shock, “You weren’t boring, that’s for sure.”

Another paper, this time written in marker as if he could sense that she didn’t wish to get up. Another strangely considerate move.

Thanks 

You’re not creeped out?

“I mean, it’s more sad than creepy,” her eyes scanned over a single line in the article once again.

“Nagito Komaeda, after all his fortunes and misfortunes alike, died at age 25, after ten years of illness, surrounded by friends who took the place of family. Out of respect, no interviews were conducted, but anybody, anyone at all even from a quick glance, could tell - Nagito Komaeda will surely be missed.” 

Her eyes watered slightly as she clicked out of the Togami Publications, laughing at the pure awkwardness of her situation, “Oh my God, that’s really fucking sad. I’m sorry your life sucked.”

Another paper.

It’s fine

I was just wasting space anyway :)

“No, you were- “ she gestured to her computer screen before covering her eyes in shame of her tears, “You meant so much to your friends.”

She expected memorial posts, maybe not as many as there were, but she saw them coming. What she didn’t see coming, however, was that each and every one would be dearly heartfelt - not a single one was disingenuous or vague in the slightest. She also didn’t see herself crying by the end of her little search.

But there she was.

Something light floated into her lap. A tissue.

“Oh my fucking God,” (Y/n) choked up again, picking up the tissue with a small smile, “Stop, you’re a ghost, you’re supposed to be scary and making me leave, not helping me dry my tears…”

Another paper atop the slowly growing pile.

Was that a ghostphobic remark?

“Oh, I’m keeping that one,” she stood, sniffling as she wiped away her tears, and picked up the last paper, nodding to herself as she muttered, “Yep. This one’s going on the wall.”

~~

Nagito stopped whispering because people ran when he did. His voice was always hideous, he didn’t to be reminded. Besides, (Y/n) seemed to prefer the paper method - she hung up her favorites along the walls of her office and if a visitor teased her about it she would ignore them. It was admirable, how their grins and giggles rolled off her back like water droplets over a duck.

He wished he could be like that.

Could have been.

He still had trouble with that.

Has.

Nagito looks up from his spot at the kitchen table where (Y/n) was cooking for herself. She seemed so at-peace in this house, and he’s glad for that. He never liked living alone and everyone else seemed to hate having him there. Not that he blamed them much.

Even so, he much prefers (Y/n) over any past guest as his living counterpart of the house.

She even leaves chairs open for him at the table; he smiles widely at the thought, patting his thighs and kicking out his legs in his seat- just like now!

She’d pulled out the chair upon entering the kitchen before calling out for him that she’d be cooking. She even knew he liked watching her cook!

It was selfish of him to crave so much attention, but in the end, Nagito was already dead so… did it really matter when he indulged in his wants more than he should?

Divine punishment isn’t real and he likes being around her, so why should he bother hiding himself away in the attic?

(Y/n) moved around the house with little to no liveliness, it made him chuckle. Her shoulders drooped and footsteps heavy, it was fun. To feel like he wasn’t alone.

He hoped she felt the same. That he was a friend… or, undead companion?

He hoped she would stay and not move out.

He hoped they could be real friends one day… if it’s not too much to ask, that once she dies, she’ll meet him. The real him. 

That would be heaven.

#nagito x reader #nagito komaeda x reader #anon chatter :) #x reader #oh to have a polite nagito ghost you can pull out chairs for and look up his tragic backstory

[bound-writings]

Hananene For The Soul

♡tbhk secret santa for @amanebae​ aka Momica♡

“Game Day” fic + Hananene Relationship HCS

>nene has an overnight school trip, leaving her no choice but to leave a certain ghost boy themselves. spoiler alert - she doesn’t though. 

>also nene introducing modern games to a baby boomer named Hanako

“Yashiroooo, you have to be lying right now!” Hanako whined as he squeezed Nene tighter, his neck resting on the crook of her neck, pouting.

“No, I’m not lying, Hanako-kun! I’m being one hundred percent serious!” the dual-colored hair huffed, dunking the mop in the bucket as she continued to scrub the floor. The boy groaned louder at Nene’s response and held on tighter as if trying to restrict her movements.

“But what about me, Yashiro? Are you just gonna abandon me and go off on your own??”

The girl sighed, furrowing her eyebrows at Hanako’s childish behaviors. Then again, he was always like that, wasn’t he? “Hanako-kun, you don’t need to be so dramatic! It’s only going to be for three days-”

“Wednesday, Thursday, Friday, and then the weekend! I’m not going to be seeing you for five whole days in a row!” Hanako’s shoulders drooped as he released his hold on Nene. Nene sighed in relief and massaged her sore neck. 

“Yashiro!” he whined, grabbing the mop and trying to pry it from Nene’s hands, “You can still rethink your decision!” 

Yashiro squealed as she held on to the mop. “I’m not going to! You’ve survived without me before, Hanako-kun! And I’ve already paid for it and everything! I don’t know why you’re so insistent on me staying here!”

Hanako released his grip on the mop, tilting his hat so it would cover his eyes. “I see, Yashiro. If that’s what you want.”

Yashiro frowned as her heart twinged. She didn’t mean to hurt the boy’s feelings. Or maybe he was trying to guilt-trip her, like the time he used the fake tears? Hmph, she wouldn’t be fooled! (She was.)

>the next day

“Why not?”

“What?! No way! I came here to get you to stop me, Tsuchigomori-sensei!”

“I mean, the trip isn’t mandatory. It’s for pleasure only. I see nothing wrong with skipping it. And I could also refund your money as well.”

“Listen, I don’t know what to do!”

“What a pain… Did you ask Honorable Number Seven about it?”

“Yes, of course! He knows about it and he wants me to stay at school! But I don’t know anything about him! He never even told me about his past, and I never know what’s going on in that head of his. He’s hugging me one minute, and the next he’s cruelly making me clean toilets!” Nene sighed, pursing her lips at her outburst. “Clearly he doesn’t trust me… so I don’t know why he’s so desperate for me to stay with him…”

Tsuchigomori sighed, puffing out smoke from his pipe.

“You know kid, he’s been a lot happier ever since you came around.”

“Eh?”

“You should have seen him before. Always moping around in the stall and complaining about how boring it was around here.”

“And?”

“And now it’s the complete opposite. He doesn’t say it, but you made a huge impact on him, kid. Maybe he doesn’t tell you some things, but I believe that’s because he wants to protect you.”

“I-I see.”

“But don’t mind my rambling. Who knows, I might be completely wrong. You are too soft on the boy anyway.” Tsuchigomori guffawed as a tick mark appeared on Nene’s forehead.

“Don’t think too deep into it kid. Just make sure you don’t regret it.”

Nene sighed as she played with the ends of her hair. What would she do? No, she already knew what she was going to do.

>the next day

Hanako sighed, looking out the window, seeing other the trees shake in the wind instead of the usual commotion outside. The school was eerily empty because almost everyone had gone on the trip. Yashiro included. His eyes drooped as he stared as his tingly hands. The hands that would playfully squish her cheeks, the hands that would hold onto her as if she would disappear from his grasp. Her warm, warm body…

Hanako blinked and suddenly snapped out of his daze. Yashiro was right. Yashiro didn’t need to stay here with him. She was human. She was alive. She should be enjoying her life instead of staying here with him. But he sighed as he slumped into the wall, closing his eyes, taking in the silence. It will be quite lonely for a few days. Or so he thought.

“HANAKO-KUN!!!”

Hanako bolted upright as if electricity struck him. The Mokke lying around him were up and about as well, spouting but one word. 

“Yashiro.”

“Yashiro!”

“It’s Yashiro.”

Hanako rubbed his eyes as he strained his ears, wondering if he was hearing right.

“Jeez, Hanako-kun! You can look at me already!”

The ghost almost comically turned his neck around slowly, eyes widening as he gulped. Much to his surprise, it was her. Yashiro Nene in the flesh, lip jutting out as she pouted, hands on her hips, a bag at her daikon legs.

“Y-Yashiro? Why are you here-?”

“The real question is why you’re sitting here being all mopey! I thought you knew how to exist without me?” she huffed as she grabbed the bag at her feet.

Hanako, still in a shocked daze, floated over to her, pointing a finger at the bag. “And that is…?”

The girl slightly blushed. “I brought for you… I mean I brought it so I wouldn’t be bored staying at school!”

“Staying… at school? What about the trip?”

Nene sighed, staring at her feet and then glancing up at the curious boy. She gently tugged on his sleeve, ushering him closer to her.

“I… I decided not to go. I wanted to stay with you Hanako-kun… even though you can be really annoying sometimes. But… I think you’re good company.”

The boy blushed as he stared at the floor as well. His heart pounded in his chest at Nene’s words and he could feel her soft skin brushing against the palm of his hand. Hanako tried to compose himself, but he could barely bring himself to say anything. Nene squirmed in the awkward silence and tried to break it. Pulling her hand away, much to Hanako’s regret, she spoke.

“A-Anyway! I brought this so we can play together!” Nene quickly threw the bag to the side and pulled out a colorful box that read the word “MONOPOLY” in big letters.

“Moh-noh-poly?’

“No, it’s Mah-nah-poly!” Nene said trying to sound out the letters as best as possible. She giggled. “I’m surprised you don’t know this game, Hanako-kun!” Nene dropped to her legs and removed the cover of the box. Hanako followed, squatting down to peer at the game, his heart feeling touched and all tingly.

She unfolded the board and dumped the figures onto it. Hanako watched on curiously, as she squinted and counted what seemed to be like fake money.

“Here, Hanako-kun!”

Fake dollar bills landed in his hands as well as a small figurine as he closely inspected them. “The game is quite simple, Hanako-kun. You just have to walk around the board by rolling the dice and try to buy some buildings and stuff like that!”

“So… it’s kind of like a game of luck?”

The girl pressed a finger to her lips as she gazed upwards in thought. “Hmm, I guess you can say that too!”

Too cute, Hanako thought.

Hanako kept getting screwed over because every time he rolled the dice he always managed to land on something bad. The first time he landed on the “Jail” spot and had no idea until Nene started laughing at him and explained what it meant. He was not happy. Then he landed on one of her properties and had to pay rent, making him go broke. Hanako ends up going bankrupt quite a few times simply because he’s like?? Wtf is going on??? 

But uhh he gets used to it really fast. Like he actually gets really good at it. It’s almost scary how good he is at this kind of stuff when he’s serious. When he understands the rules and stuff he starts making Nene suffer by making her go into debt and buying all of her stuff. And Nene is literally devastated. She thought wow haha I’m actually better than Hanako-kun at this! Time to show him whose boss! Well, that only lasted for like fifteen minutes because soon enough Hanako was whooping her at Monopoly.

Yashiro ends up having to eat lunch at one point, luckily she packed her own lunch today. But alas, Hanako kept bugging her to get a bite of her cooking.

An irk mark appeared on the girl’s forehead as her clothes were being tugged on by a certain ghost.

“Yashiroooo! You know I haven’t eaten in years…” Hanako whispered in Nene’s ear, mimicking the sound of a stomach grumbling as he nudged his cheek with hers. She cringed, shoveling a portion of food into his mouth so he could shut up. Hanako nearly choked as he hit his chest in an effort to swallow it. 

“Are you happy now you idiot?” she huffed, stuffing her face with food as well.

It was actually pretty darn good, Hanako thought.

>the next day

Hanako eagerly floated around the girl’s bathroom waiting for the dual-colored hair girl. He had, quite indeed, grown fond of her, no, more than fond, whatever word that was. The naive girl who hopelessly pines after guys, the same one who managed to become a fish, the one with the adorable squishy cheeks he wished would look at him instead-

“Hanako-kun!!!”

The call of his name made him jump was again and before him was a pouty Yashiro.

“I’ve called your name like ten times, Hanako-kun!”

The boy blinked at her and a mischievous smile appeared on his face as he floated down to her level and placed both hands on her cheeks.

“Hmm… I was just thinking about a special someone ♡.”

She blushed as she swatted his hand away. H-Hanako-kun’s girlfriend! That’s who he must be thinking about!

“So what do ya got there today, Yashiro?”

“U-Uh! Oh yeah! The cards!” She smiled as she plopped down on the floor, taking a deck of cards out of the small box.

“Cards?” Hanako’s interest was piqued. 

“Yeah! Have you ever played Uno, Hanako-kun?

“Un-oh?”

“Ooh-no,” she corrected, patting the space across from her, inviting Hanako to sit.

“It’s really simple! You can place a card that has the same color or number as the one on top of the pile, and if you don’t have one you pick up. And you have to say ‘Uno!’ when you place your second to the last card-”

“So basically like Crazy 8?”

“You can say that. But there’s color in Uno!”

Nene got absolutely destroyed in Uno. That’s all that happened. I don’t know if y’all have noticed but Hanako tends to play cards with the Mokke pretty often. And he’s always calm and collected WHICH MEANS HE’S LIKE A MASTER AT CARD GAMES. That is what happens and no one is going to stop him from stomping. He drops so many +2 and +4 cards that Nene has practically the whole deck in her hand. He wins every single time. Nene probably gets a bit pouty at this because she’s like how??? This boomer literally just learned about the game like five minutes ago and?? He’s already kicking my ass at it??

Hanako may or may not lighten up his game if he sees Yashiro get upset but you know. He freaking loves doesn’t really want to see Yashiro sad. So he purposely lets the girl win because he honestly went 🥺when he saw her cheering and throwing her arms in the arm, celebrating.

>the next day

“Sorry, Hanako-kun… I don’t have a new game today…”

Hanako merely smiled as he tugged on her cheeks, turning her frown into a smile. “It’s-”

“That’s why I made this!” The girl grinned as she held a bag high in the air for both of them to gaze upon. 

“D-donuts!” Hanako’s face immediately glowed at the sight of the beautifully glazed donuts as he tried to grab them. Nene moved them out of the way as Hanako whined.

“Let’s go to the roof instead, Hanako-kun!”

--

“Finally, I can eat delicious donuts again!” Hanako cheered as he twirled around, holding the bag in the air.

The girl watched in amusement, settling down on the sheet as she poured tea into a cup. “Still a donut loving ghost, I see,” she giggled as she watched the boy scarf down the pastry. The boy sat down next to her, mouth full.

“Wow, thaft’s somfe real goof dofnuts!” he sighed with content, discarding the bag.

“Hanako-kun, that was for the both of us!” she frowned, peering at the bag. “Plus it’s not good for you to eat so quickly!” she scolded.

Hanako simply smiled at her, crumbs near his lips.

Nene’s eyes softened as she stared at the boy. “You’ve got some crumbs here, Hanako-kun,” she spoke softly, taking her thumb and brushing the crumbs off of his face. Hanako went red as he froze. Noticing his face becoming hot, she glanced at him to see how red he was. Then Nene realized what she was doing.

“Um! I-I was only helping you as a friend of course! You’re totally not my type!” she squealed, face burning as she tried to pull her hand away. But a hand gently caught her arm.

Hanako’s gaze was on the floor, his cheeks red. “Yashiro… these few days have been fun with you. And… and I’m glad you decided to stay with me,” he paused, unsure of how to phrase his words. “It’s been lonely-”

Nene tugged on his arm, smiling at him, not wanting feel like he was being forced to say anything. “Actually Hanako-kun… I’m glad I stayed too.” 

“Yashiro… can I ask why you stayed with me? 

“Well, because I like you, Hanako-kun!” 

…

“As a friend of course! Nothing more!!”

“You’ve said that already, Yashiro…”

“I don’t think the trip would have been too much fun anyway. I had lots of fun with you though!”

Hanako smiled at her words, cherishing the moment. He placed the palm of his hand on hers, and then slowly intertwined his fingers with hers. The girl didn’t protest and instead squeezed his hand, brushing her thumb over his.

How both of them wished this moment would last forever.

Hanako x Yashiro Nene (Hananene) Relationship HCS

If Hanako was alive, they would be the cutest couple in the school! It was actually a shock to most people that they started dating. Yes, Hanako would tease Yashiro on a daily basis but no one thought he was genuinely serious about a relationship with the girl. These two clowns love each very much though, everyone can see that! Now that they’re in an established relationship, Nene becomes more lenient on Hanako’s constant affection, which has increased a huge amount. Hanako is literally around Nene at all times, he won’t directly say it but he cannot bear to not be around this girl. He’s been alone and touch starved for so long, but now he finally has human contact that just fills his heart up with warmth. So yea whenever Nene is not around he’s just like :(.

Also one thing. You know how he calls her Yashiro? Well not anymore! “Nene-chan” time! Hanako never fails to fluster her when he says her first name, especially with the ‘chan’ part. But Nene gets her fair share of making Hanako blush as well. It’s mostly the little things Nene does that touches Hanako’s heart. Maybe it’s making donuts for him, or comforting him after a confrontation with Tsukasa. And whenever the daikon girl initiates affection first, he always gets a little flustered! And then he would tease her for becoming bold. He must be rubbing off on her.

Hanako is always there with her during class. So Nene becomes known as the girl who talks to thin air on a daily basis. She becomes a bit depressed at this but her boyfriend 100 percent cheers her up! The real problem is when Hanako has to be by himself on the weekends. Now that part crushed both of their heart’s especially Hanako’s. He has to wait in the empty school by himself, with only Mokke to keep him company. He knows he shouldn’t feel this way but he’s jealous. Jealous of everyone who can leave this damn building. How he just wants to leave but he can’t step foot out of the school. How he just wants Nene to be by his side forever.

Definitely nerds out with Nene about space and whatnot. He just never had anyone who would willingly listen to him ramble about space! And even though Nene may not understand half of it, she’ll always listen and nod her head. She thinks it’s cute when his eyes get all glowy and excited when he’s talking about something he likes. One of her favorite things to do is to just hold the boy’s hand. His hand is cold, unlike her warm one. But she tries her darn best to transmit her warmth to his body. Why? Because she freaking loves Hanako.

Even though Hanako is so touchy-feely he doesn’t say the words “I love you” quite as often. He’s just a lot better at expressing his feelings through actions than words. Plus he gets insanely flustered and red whenever he says the words, even more when Nene is the one to say it.

Hanako deeply cherishes Nene despite teasing her so often. The fact a murderer like him was able to find love is just, well, astonishing to him. Hanako loves her though, and he will do anything to keep her alive. He always knew that ghosts didn’t have a future but… perhaps with Nene by his side, his one didn’t look so dim anymore.

#toilet bound hanako kun #jibaku shounen hanako kun #tbhk #jshk #hanako kun #yashiro nene #nene yashiro #hanako x yashiro #hanako x nene #hananene #tbhk hanako #tbhk yashiro #yashiro x amane #nene x amane #nene x hanako #tbhk hanako x yashiro #amane yugi #yugi amane #yashiro x hanako #amanene

[el-gilliath]

I Will Survive

Well damn, who would've thought something like this could happen at 4am (Norwegian time). So beware of any spelling errors, please and thank you.

As always, dedicated to my lovely @lsobelevans. I’m sorry it took me so damn long lol

BE AWARE of violence in this chapter. None graphic, but you do see aftermath

Ao3

He hasn’t stopped thinking about the kiss. Of Cowboy’s lips on his. Of his hands on his skin. Of the gorgeous hazel of his eyes. Of the face he can’t remember.

He realized quickly that Influence is probably the reason he can’t remember, it seems like something that is within her abilities. A part of him is glad, he doesn’t want to remember Cowboy’s face until he knows his name, and he does remember the feel of his gorgeous curls between his fingers. It felt good to run his hands through them, it’ll feel good when he gets to do it again.

After getting Cowboy out of the hands of the Russians, the bond, the connection, between them felt more profound. Kissing him made it even more so. Alex can feel it, in a way, the connection underneath his skin.

He also knows how dangerous it is, how many people who would love to use him as bait for Cowboy, should their tentative thing be known. Everyone and their mother has warned him about it, including Liz (who is very publicly dating Detective Max Evans and not Electrobuzz), Maria (who knows all the shit that happens in the vigilante world), and Kyle (that did not go over well). Even Arturo has given him the worried face and soft spanish proverbs, even though he doesn’t need them. None of them understands that being Jesse Manes’ youngest child has put him in the spotlight and kept him there for years.

No matter how much Jesse hates his son, he wouldn’t stand for anyone giving him the dishonor of taking his son. It’s the one thing he can count on more than anything when it comes to his dad, he doesn’t like dishonor. If nothing else, Alex will appreciate that about his dad, no matter how much shit he gets for it. It also means that he knows Jesse will come for him, even if it’s only for the glory of having rescued his son and not because of Alex himself.

Which is why he’s not afraid when he finds himself being dragged into a car as he leaves the Post on a Wednesday afternoon, Rosa screaming “No!” as his eyes meet hers when they take a hold of his arms and kick his legs out from under him so he can’t really resist. He just lets himself be dragged into the van, giving Rosa as much of a reassuring look as he can. He doesn’t want her to be afraid for him, even if he knows she probably will be.

He’s fairly sure he knows exactly where they’re taking him anyway.

The kidnappers throw him into the back of the way, screaming at him in broken english to sit down and shut up. They scream that if he makes any trouble they’ll kill him. Alex knows that they won’t, but he still nods, curling together like he’s frightened, like he’s cowering. He’s not, fear isn’t something he feels lightly anymore but he has to protect his leg. If they take that then he’s gonna have one hell of a harder time with everything. Thankfully the men only scowl at him behind ski-masks as they drive off. He closes his eyes, counting seconds and minutes to try to find out where they’re going, listening out for the murmuring that’s happening in the van with him.

He knows he’s right when the driver starts talking louder in russian, when they slow down after about 20minutes. They’re in the Russian compound. And he’s probably gonna meet Mr. Serkoff again, after getting the diamonds off of his hands. The diamonds he decidedly did not give his father.

He’s about to be in a bigger heap of trouble than he’s been in a while.

He’s roughly pulled from the car a few minutes after they stop, pushed ahead so quickly he barely has time to put his feet under him. His leg pulls in the wrong side of comfortable and he bites the inside of his cheek not to cry out. Instead he straightens himself, stands tall and walks into the lion's den. He ignores the pushing, he ignores the yelling. He’ll face this on his own terms, not on theirs.

He’s taken to a back office in the Diamond Storage and roughly shoved into a chair in front of a huge oak desk, where Serkoff is sitting watching his men’s rough handling with a bored look on his face. Anyone not good at reading faces wouldn’t see the underlying anger, the fury.

Alex Manes grew up with Jesse Manes. He’s seen more anger than he ever wants too.

“Mr. Manes.”

“Mr. Serkoff,” Alex replies. He makes sure his voice is calm, collected. He needs to stay strong. “I don’t think taking me right outside the Post was the smartest idea you ever had.”

“Perhaps not. But I doubt you are surprised to find yourself back here again.” The anger turns obvious, a snarl on the russians face. “You took my diamonds, Mr. Manes. And you did not deliver them to your father. He was not… pleased. And as a result, I am not pleased.”

Alex just looks at him. He hitches a brow slightly as if to say ‘get on with it’. He might not be the good little cop boy his father wants him to be, but that doesn’t mean he’s not capable. And right now he needs to be a Manes.

“He told me he never sent you to get the diamonds. That he would never.” The chilling grin is the first sign. “He told me to do whatever I wanted to you. He would rather find your corpse, than to find you alive.”

It breaks his heart, just a little, to hear that. But he also knows it’s not true.

“If you hadn’t taken me very publicly that would be true. But you did. My father might hate me, Mr. Serkoff, but he won’t stand for slights on his honor.” Alex’s top lip curls upwards in a parody of a smile. “Taking his son like that? His disabled son which the public thinks he loves? You can’t imagine the outrage.”

Something flickers in the burly Russians eyes. Almost like compassion. Almost like understanding. It disappears fast behind the mask of indifference.

“Give me my diamonds.”

“I don’t have them.”

Serkoff visibly bites his tongue, hard, most likely to stop himself from speaking too early. Alex understands him better than he wants to at that moment.

“Exactly how much does my father have on you, Mr. Serkoff,” Alex asks. The snort in response wasn’t what he expected.

“Your father has nothing on me, Mr. Manes. I deal with him because I want to, not because I have to.” Well shit. “And if you do not have my diamonds, I have no need of you.”

The knowledge that he means exactly what he’s saying churns inside Alex’s stomach. He has nothing to stop this, unless he gives up the diamonds. The problem is that he’s not lying, he doesn’t have them. But he does know where they are.

He also knows that giving them up would be the end.

“What if I could make you a deal?” Alex asks. Giving up the diamonds would be the end, but he can give him something different, something that might be worth more.

“And what kind of a deal would that be?”

“In exchange for me walking out of here, I could give you information. Information my dad probably doesn't want you to have.”

“And how would that benefit me?”

“When I take him down, I’ll keep your name out of it.” Alex takes a deep breath. “And in the end you’ll have your diamonds back.”

Serkoff looks at him in a way Alex is intimately familiar with, having grown up in the Manes household, like he’s a bug he wants to squash. But there’s also interest, a curiosity that Alex can’t help but feel hopeful about. If he can convince this burly russian that he can give him valuable information he might have a chance. It also means that his rig at the Pony will be brushing off the dust in a way he promised he wouldn’t do any more.

“Your offer is interesting,” Serkoff replies. “But you stole my diamonds, Mr. Manes. For that I cannot just let you leave.”

It’s the last thing he remembers as he’s hit in the head with a gun.

———

Pain. Harsh spoken russian words. The glint of a knife. Pain.

------

He wakes up, doesn’t know how much later, alone in a room. He’s on a bed, prosthetic still on. His head is pounding, his stomach is on fire, his hands filled with tiny cuts. It hurts, but he knew this was a possibility. It’s not like he hasn’t suffered worse before.

“Mr. Manes.”

He jumps, his heart hammering in his chest. His spatial awareness comes rushing back, recognizing the fact that the door’s been opened and that Serkoff is now in the room with him. He’s thankfully standing by the door, making no moves to come closer. It makes Alex’s heart settle a litte.

“Mr. Serkoff. Done beating me up?”

“Yes,” the russian replies, simple as that. Maybe it is. “Now tell me about the information you can give me.”

Alex swallows. “Will you let me go if I do?”

“I will. I could not let you go without some retaliation. My own people would think me weak if I did, but now I can. If you give me the information. From what my sources tell me, the youngest Manes is a very good hacker.” Serkoff grimaces. “I was also told hacking was how you lost your leg.”

“Yeah. It was. Doesn’t mean I’m not good at it.”

“On the contrary Mr. Manes, for you to have lost your leg you must have been very good, for someone to want to hurt you that much.”

“My dad is the reason I lost my leg, Mr. Serkoff.” Alex sighs, worn and tired. “Maybe now you understand why I want to stop him.”

Serkoff doesn’t say anything, but Alex recognizes the look in his eyes. It’s the look of someone who does understand, it makes the look in his eyes earlier make all the more sense. He knows exactly what Alex is talking about, probably better than Alex thinks he does.

“And you will keep me and my men out of it.”

“I will. I can’t keep the russian mob out of it completely, but I’ll try.”

“And I will get my diamonds?” Serkoff asks, and Alex just nods. His body is starting to shut down, in pain and aching. Talking is starting to become too much. “Good. I will get you a scapegoat, someone who should be taken down with your father. Now rest, your friend will be here soon.”

Alex opens his mouth to ask who said friend is, but he doesn’t have the chance before Serkoff nods sternly and walks out of the room, closing the door behind him and leaving Alex to his own thoughts. Alone, deep in the diamond storage with the russian mob. A friend coming soon.

He really hopes Cowboy or Influence didn’t get themselves involved.

Still he lays back down and rests. He probably doesn’t have to fight his way out but he still wants to get some strength back. Even if that strength is skin deep, allowing himself to rest so he can walk out on his own is enough. Serkoff and his men are not someone you want to appear weak in front of. Especially if he’s going to have somewhat of a working relationship with them.

He doesn’t know how much time passes as he rests, lost in his own thoughts of where he needs to move his rig (he can’t keep it at the Pony just in case someone traces it back to him), how he’s going to keep Arturo from finding out (he already knows how mad Arturo would be, after how frightened he was the last time) and who’s coming to get him (he’s going to kill whoever it is for walking voluntarily into the compound).

Which is why he startles (spatial awareness, come on) when the door bangs open.

“Hermano, you better be alive on that bed so that I can kill you myself.”

He huffs a laugh, of course it’s Rosa. A spitfire latina would be the only one crazy enough to come get him in the middle of the russian mob and threaten murder.

“I’m fine, Rosa. Just resting,” he answers, smiling in amusement as her glowering only increases. He’s still thankful for the way she stalks over and throws herself down on him, hugging him tightly.

“I was so scared when they took you,” she whispers as he hugs her back, mindful of his aches. “I even called Maria and you know I prefer when she comes to me.”

“I appreciate your sacrifice,” he whispers back. Even though they both know that Rosa’s burgeoning interest in Maria means they’ve called upon each other half a dozen times (if not more) since the night at the Pony. Though he’s pretty sure Rosa actually prefers it when Maria does come to her. And when she doesn’t have to call her to find someone else.

“You better. I’m in Maria’s debt now, I don’t like being in anyone's debt.”

“I know. But you can get a date out of it?”

“Vato, don’t you even-

“Okay! Okay” Alex interrupts her with a laugh that turns into a cough. “Thanks for coming.”

“When the Russian mob calls and tells you to come to their secret base to pick up your best friend, who they just kidnapped you kinda go,” Rosa answers, grumbling into his chest. Alex just holds her tighter, squeezing her in his version of a thanks. Something he knows she understands, none of them are big on talking about their feelings in high strung environments. “Speaking of the Russian mob…”

“Yeah, no, I’m not telling you here. Later, okay?

“Si,” Rosa replies. “But you better tell me.”

“I will. But we need to get going.”

Rosa nods and gets up, pulling Alex with her. Standing is painful, but he can put pressure on the prosthetic without problems, meaning Serkoss left it well enough alone. It helps him move out of his own power. He's grateful for that much at least.

They walk out of the compound easily after that. All the Russian men are gone, vanished from their vicinity. Alex knows, he uses all the tricks in his books to look for them, as they move out to where Rosa’s car is parked. He looks back one more time before he gets in, and catches Serkoff watching them. He nods, a gesture of respect Alex didn’t expect. Still, he nods back and gets into the car.

“Where too?”

He looks over at Rosa. “The Pony. I have some business to take care of.”

He’s never felt more relaxed putting his back to the bad man than he does when they drive out of the parking lot and set course for the Pony.

The car ride is quiet, something Alex is grateful for. It gives him a chance to rest some more, leaning back into the comfy seat of Rosa’s car and closing his eyes. He breathes deeply and evenly as he listens to Rosa’s ever present grumblings about traffic.

He nods off, just a little, waking again as he hears Rosa call Maria and tell them they’re coming. Good, he doesn’t need the hassle of scared Super’s today.

Which proves to be his famous last thought as they walk into the Pony and Cowboy is there. Frantic with worry. Alex watches him with a surprised look as he walks back and forth over the Pony floor, rambling to himself with his mask on, but hat off, not listening to a word Maria says. Maria meets his gaze with an exasperated look on her face, tilting her head slightly to where Influence, Electrobuzz and Kyle are arguing loudly amongst themselves. He watches them with an artificial detachment he wills into being. He can’t afford to care. Especially now that he has a job to do.

“Cowboy.” He speaks the word clearly, a bit louder than he usually would. He needs his attention.

He’s not expecting to get the attention of everyone. Even Liz appears from the back room, cursing up a storm when she sees his bruised face. And Liz cursing starts the rest of them, besides Maria who just watches him and Kyle who walks over to Alex and silently asks permission to check him out. Alex looks at him and Kyle backs away, knowing that it’ll have to wait. Their friendship might not be all good, but their communication still works perfectly.

“Stop!” Maria yells. Miraculously it works. “This is my bar, and this is Alex’s safe space. Let him fucking breathe.”

“DeLuca-”

“No,” Maria interrupts, sending a vicious look Cowboy’s way. Alex can’t help that a tiny particle of him appreciates the way she makes him flinch. “Alex, please let Kyle take you in the back and make sure you’re okay. Please.”

Alex watches her, the way they listen to her speak even as they shoot him glances and he’s so proud. So proud of her and the woman she’s become since her mother died, since she took over the Pony and started protecting the people that might need it the most and the least at the same time. Maria DeLuca is a savior, though he really hopes that one day she will let someone Rosa save her right back. No one deserves it more than her.

He nods at her, shooting Kyle a look as well before he walks towards the backroom. He can feel Cowboy watching him as he moves but he’ll worry about that later. Right now he needs to focus on something else.

“Does it hurt anywhere?” Kyle asks as he closes the door. Alex just shoots him a look. “I mean worse than anywhere else.”

“No.”

“How about your stomach?”

“No.”

“Your leg?”

“No.”

“Damnit, Alex!” Kyle yells, startling both of them. “Just… Just please answer me properly.”

Alex runs a hand through his hair, sighing deeply as he does. Time to treat Kyle like a doctor, and not an enemy. “My leg is fine, they didn’t touch it. Stomach is sore but seems fine. My head is killing me and my face is probably starting to get a real nice shiner. I’m fine, Kyle.”

“Only you would be kidnapped and beat up and say you’re fine,” Kyle mutters angrily and Alex can’t help but huff out a laugh. He has a point.

“You want me to apologize instead?”

“No. I just want you to stay safe.” Kyles gives him a look. “Within the range of safe at least.”

Alex rolls his eyes but doesn’t answer. Kyle knows him well enough to know that the Manes range of safety isn’t the same as everyone else's. Kyle snorts in derision at the eye roll but doesn’t say anything else either, preferring to finish looking Alex over in silence. Alex finds himself grateful for the familiarity and that they don’t need to talk. He might not have completely forgiven Kyle yet, but Kyle knowing what he needs and when to shut up helps. Maybe more than he thought it would, since it was Kyle opening his mouth that destroyed them the first time.

“Thank, Kyle,” he says, as Kyle moves back with a satisfied nod some minutes later.

“Any time,” Kyle replies as he packs away the nicely stocked first aid kit Maria has in the back room. “Want me to send in Cowboy?”

“No. I need to talk to Maria first.”

Kyle gives him a look of slight surprise, but nods before he goes through the door to the front of the pub. Alex waits until Maria joins him a minute later.

“You okay?” She asks, walking over to him and gently cupping his face in her hands. Her eyes are alight with worry, her frame tense in a way she usually isn’t.

“I’m fine, Maria. That was a necessary meeting.”

“Meeting? Alex, they kidnapped you!”

“Yeah,” he agrees. “But now I have an ally against my father.”

“Is that what this is about, your dad?” Maria asks.

“No. It’s about keeping them safe,” he answers, nodding towards the front of the bar. “Kyle, Liz, Rosa. Cowboy, your siblings. You.”

Maria huffs. “My secret siblings out there can take care of themselves, as can Cowboy, the rest of them and me. I’ve been the unofficial Super bar for years Alex, the police can’t take me down for shit.”

“They can if my rig is here. Especially if it’s in use.”

He sees it happen the second it dawns on her, the second she understands just why he’s calling it a meeting.

“You can’t do that. The last time you hacked you lost your leg,” she says with frightening calm. “If you do and your father finds out again you’ll lose your life!”

“I will. But this time I have the Russian mob at my back.”

She just stares at him, eyes wide and wild with indignation and a fair bit of the classical ‘are you crazy’ look. But there’s no question, she knows that he’s serious. She also knows she can’t talk him out of it, like she couldn’t the last time.

“You better be careful,” she says through clenched teeth when she finally does speak, marching over and laying a hard kiss on his forehead before she walks out without a word. Probably best, so neither of them starts to cry. Matia saw him at his worst after he lost his leg, he knows she has a right to be scared but he’ll be more careful this time. He has to be.

“Alex?” Cowboy asks as he walks through the door. He looks worried, scared even. “Can I come on?”

“Yeah, come in,” Alex replies. Cowboy comes in slowly. His hat and mask is on, but Alex doesn’t mind. He never minds, especially now that he has to do what he does.

“You okay?”

“I’m fine,” he replies. “The Russians are pretty pissed, but it’s nothing I can’t handle.

“Is this because-“

“No. It’s got nothing to do with you.”

Cowboy clearly doesn’t believe him, if the way he purses his lips is any indication. “Sure, I get stuck in their compound, you go in and use your name, and not two weeks later you get kidnapped and beaten up!”

“That was because-“

“And now you want to work with them? And hack for them when you lost your leg because of it the first time? How can you be so st-“

“Hey!” Alex interrupts. “You do not get to call me stupid, Cowboy. I got into trouble because of my dad, not because of you. It's my choice, not yours.”

He watches Cowboy bite his tongue, clenching his fists tightly in obvious annoyance. But he doesn’t say anything, breathing deeply for a few minutes before he relaxes his fists, his jaw following. Alex understands how he feels, he does, but Cowboy isn’t his keeper of any kind. He makes his own decisions.

“You don’t get to decide when you run around New York as a vigilante, protecting people left and right with no regards to yourself. You don’t get to tell me what to do.”

He doesn’t expect Cowboy to kiss him. He just walks over, takes Alex’s face in his hands and kisses him. It’s sloppy, this side of too hard and feral, just a little bit painful to Alex’s bruised face. It’s perfect.

“Shit, I’m sorry. You’re hurt,” Cowboy says, pulling away.

Alex shakes his head, keeping him in place. “It’s perfect, please don't stop.”

Cowboy seems sceptical, but Alex doesn’t care. He pulls him back in, though he softens the kiss so it won’t hurt. Instead of hard it’s soft, instead of hurried it’s languid, instead of feral it’s tender. Painful turns way to heat, lazily curling up his spine and settling everywhere from his neck to his stomach. He sighs softly into the kiss, pulling Cowboy infinitely closer.

“Alex. As much as I love having your lips on mine, you’re hurt,” Cowboy says as he pulls back again. “And we both know Maria will kill us if we do anything in this backroom.”

Alex groans. “You pick now to be sensible?”

“I pick now to be scared of your best friend. I’m just… breaking. Not saying no.”

Alex sighs, nodding because he knows Cowboy is right. He also does have to remember that he doesn’t actually know who Cowboy is, yet.

“I need help, moving my rig back home. Will you help me?”

Cowboy gives him a long, hard look. It feels soul searching in many ways, but Alex endures it. For him. He’s admittedly surprised when Cowboy nods, but grateful.

———

He find another piece of paper hidden under his keyboard the next day, with the letter A.

#roswell new mexico #malex #malex fic #michael guerin #alex manes #my fic #fic:vigilante au #cowboy - michael guerin #hints of maria/rosa

[cake-writes]

Breathe (Lecture 1)

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Story Warnings: Slow Burn, Angst, Fluff, Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, Mixed Delivery (Social Media & Written Parts), Eventual 18+

Summary: Bucky takes a history class at his local university in hopes of catching up on the last few decades, on everything he’s missed whilst under Hydra’s control – but he winds up learning a lot more than what’s on the syllabus. He learns how to heal.

Written for @the-omni-princess​​’s 1k writing challenge!

(Formerly Hope & Happiness; I decided that I needed a better title!)

TAG LIST: OPEN

💛 This fic is interactive. Here’s how it works! 💛

So I took the time to find an actual university course to complement this story because I’m just that invested, you guys. (I’m also a huge history nerd, lmao.) The syllabus and lectures are real, and any content relating to these in my story is straight from the source.

Lectures are recorded and available for a listen! Most written chapters will correspond to a lecture; I’ll list which one at the top of the chapter if you want to learn along with Bucky. Each one is about 40-50 minutes long and in English. Click here to access them!

This is definitely optional, though, so please don’t feel pressured to listen, but if you’re a history nerd like me then you may want to take a look!

Wednesday, August 24

Lecture 1: Introductory Lecture

Although Bucky had been on campus a couple of times before now – first to apply, and then to meet with an advisor as all new students were required to do – he didn’t think he’d ever get used to the sheer size of it. Universities these days were massive: cities within a city, buildings upon restaurants upon shops and all he wanted to do was learn.

That was all he’d ever wanted to do, really. Learn about himself. Learn what made the world tick. Learn all the things he didn’t know. He’d always excelled in school, and once upon a time he’d started to save money in order to attend university. Didn’t know what he’d study – just knew that he wanted a degree in order to support the family he thought he’d have one day.

Ambitions for the future.

Then came the draft. Because hadn’t yet been able to save enough, he’d been shipped out to the European Theater – sent to hell, not to college.

Ambitions for the past.

Two years spent in cold, wintery foxholes gave him an opportunity to think, but all he could think about was the stench of death surrounding him, surrounding his unit, surrounding every waking moment of his life at war. Not his death, of course, but it may as well have been.

Bucky learned to hone in on the sound of his heartbeat in his ears, the rush of adrenaline in his veins, the sensation of his boots in mud and snow. He learned to focus. He learned to survive.

And all the while, he lived with the very real possibility that he wouldn’t make it through – and, well, he didn’t. Not really. Some parts of him never made it back; what little remained became the property of Hydra. Mind corrupted, soul shattered, will broken into sharp, jagged shards of glass.

Fragile. Breakable. Erased, but still alive.  

Bucky may have survived, but he’d never really been right since – never really been whole. Physically and mentally, with too many pieces of himself missing or damaged, one constant stayed the same: a desire to learn. He’d gotten through the war and Hydra’s harsh training because that quality was a part of him – one of the only parts that made it through.

Battle-worn and weary from surviving – not living, not really – Bucky finally had the opportunity to take a step back from the battlefield to just… exist. To live. To breathe. In taking a leave of absence, he embarked upon another journey: to rediscover the man he used to be.

It would be difficult task, he knew. The twenty-first century was far cry from the 1940s, a far cry from home, and the sheer size of the college campus only served to remind him of that. In fact, he was only able to recognize that he was still in New York because this school happened to be the very same one he’d once planned to attend so long ago. Staten Island University. Right across the bridge from his present-day apartment in Brooklyn, not to mention his old family home.

Home.

But this unfamiliar new century was his home, now, so he sought to learn what he’d missed over all the decades he’d lost to Hydra. In the process, maybe he’d learn about himself, learn what made the world tick, learn all the things he didn’t know.

What better place could there be to do that than at a university?

Bucky soon found out that his education would be paid for by the United States government for his service in the military. Ironic that the very barrier which forced him into war was the same thing being gifted to him now. The GI Bill. A reward for his patriotism. A thank you for his sacrifice.

Flowery words for a bribe meant to keep him silent. Call him jaded.

Worse still, if Bucky thought tuition was expensive back then, he didn’t know what to call it today. He’d been rendered speechless when he found out what a single class would cost, but rest assured, Uncle Sam would pay for it so that he didn’t have to.

Physically, it only cost him an arm but mentally, it cost him so much more.

U.S. Society and Politics Since 1945. Mondays and Wednesdays at two o’clock. Three credit hours, whatever that meant. He signed up for the class after his first meeting with an advisor – thought that it might do him good to put his past behind him and learn.

Bucky arrived about twenty minutes before the class was due to start, all nerves and first day jitters – absolutely ridiculous when he really thought about it, so he tried to put it out of his mind and selected a seat in the very back row in hopes of not being noticed.

Counting seats proved to be a good distraction. Three hundred seats. Would there really be that many students? Save for a handful of his new classmates scattered about, the too-large lecture hall seemed like it would never fill. Sure enough, however, it eventually started to – not all three hundred seats, but close enough.

It wasn’t until then that Bucky realized he might have been woefully unprepared. Just about everyone else had laptops sat out front of them, and while he could use one – clunkily – he still preferred something more a little more tangible. All he’d brought along was the required textbook, a notebook, and two pens, one of which he’d been rolling in between a gloved thumb and forefinger for the last few minutes. 

That was a nervous tic of his, one he’d picked up in the army, except today it was a pen instead of a cigarette and he sure could have used a pack of Lucky Strikes right now. A cigarette would have done wonders to take the edge off, but he didn’t smoke, not anymore. Frustrated, he dropped the pen back down onto his desk and slumped down in his chair.

Had school always been this nerve-wracking? He couldn’t remember.

A snort drew his attention, and Bucky glanced to his left to find you sitting a few seats down in the same back row, watching him in amusement. 

It caught him off-guard.

“Is this your first class?”

A innocent question, unprompted – untainted.

While Bucky knew that there would be some socializing required, especially in the discussion section of the class, never in his wildest dreams did he think that anyone would be willing to strike up a conversation with him. He had half a mind to say ‘no’ and ignore you as long as possible, but for whatever reason, he didn’t. He opened up.

“How could you tell?”

You shrugged. “You’re fidgeting, for one. But mostly because you don’t have a bag.”

Why would he need a bag? He was only taking one class.

At his doubtful look, you spoke again, voice light and airy, “Don’t worry. You’ll learn.”

Well, that was foreboding. Then again, you seemed like you would know. You looked slightly older than most of the other students who were likely fresh out of high school, and you appeared to be all sorts of prepared, what with a leather laptop bag on the chair to your right and some brightly-coloured notebooks, binders, and a few thick textbooks all strewn about the desk in front of you.

A laptop bag, but no laptop. Strange.

Bucky wasn’t really sure why he wanted to know, but he nodded to your books and asked anyway, “What else are you taking?”

“Mostly upper-level psychology classes. I’m in my final year. What about you?”

“This is my only class,” he admitted, and to him, that wasn’t a satisfactory answer. He was only taking the one class with no particular goal in mind, but here you were, taking at least four other classes judging by the number of textbooks on your desk.

You had a goal. 

He didn’t.

You didn’t ask why, though; instead, you offered him your name, along with a bright smile.

“Bucky,” he found himself telling you way too easily.

“Well, Bucky, it’s nice to meet you.” You paused, then, before you made an offhanded comment of, “I think it’s really good to have a friend in class, you know? Mostly so you can steal their notes when you skip.”

A joke, perhaps, but Bucky took it literally. That may have been the stupidest thing he’d ever heard. “I’m not gonna— Who pays thousands of dollars in tuition and then decides not to come?”

Your brows rose in surprise for a moment or two, but then you laughed at his stick-in-the-mud response. “Oh no, you’re one of those. What a goody two-shoes!”

Don’t worry, you’d said. You’ll learn.

But the mischievous sparkle in your eyes let him know that you were just teasing, and what’s more, he actually didn’t mind. No, he kind of liked it, having some normal human interaction for once – not whatever the hell he’d grown used to at the compound. Between blood-spattered banter in the field and too-dark humour used as a coping mechanism, his interactions there were anything but normal.

Bucky also liked that you had no idea how wrong your sentiment was; not that he’d never admit it. This was the first time in a long, long while that he’d been treated like a regular person – not enhanced, not a science experiment, not an Avenger – and he had no intention of shattering the illusion anytime soon.

“I’m not giving you my notes, either,” he deadpanned.

“Oh, I’m sorry. Super goody two-shoes. My mistake.”

When he opened his mouth to respond to your sassy one-liner, however, the professor’s voice sounded from the front of the lecture hall. You gave him a final wink before you turned to face the front, purple pen already poised and ready to go.

Good afternoon! Can you hear me in the nosebleeds? Yes? With me? Okay…

Forty-five minutes passed in a blink, and most of the students quickly started to pack up their belongings – but not you. No, you stayed in your seat and continued scribbling away at something in your notes, seemingly having zero plans to leave anytime soon. Bucky couldn’t help but be curious as to why you weren’t packing up, but it wasn’t any of his business and he didn’t ask.

Armed with a new syllabus and a daunting list of required readings for the week, he pulled himself to his feet and collected his own belongings; only managed to push the chair back in and take about two steps toward the door before he heard your voice again.

“Hey, Bucky, wait.”

He turned around to see you still reading through one of your textbooks, not even looking in his direction, but in your outstretched hand was a bright pink sticky note.

What?

“Come on,” still focused on your reading, you waved the post-it, pink paper flapping in the makeshift breeze but staying stuck to your finger anyway, “Take it. Here.”

Hesitantly, Bucky stepped closer and accepted the proffered note. Upon it, he found that you’d hastily scrawled your name and phone number, along with what he assumed was meant to be a smiley face. The drawing was god-awful, and a welcome distraction from the way his heart had immediately leapt into his throat because a woman had just given him her phone number.

Her phone number.

“Th— Thanks?” he stammered, unsure.

Now, he certainly wasn’t one to jump to conclusions, but this—

“Don’t get any weird ideas,” you interrupted his train of thought, finally pulling your eyes away from the textbook to look up at him. 

Gorgeous, glimmering, big doe eyes focused right on him, now, and seeing you up close like this, a fleeting thought crossed his mind about how attractive you were. He blamed it on the fact that you’d just given him your number, and now his brain only wanted to overthink what he’d interpreted as the first sign of potential interest from the opposite sex in – well, far too long. 

Bucky hadn’t been expecting that at all, and he wasn’t particularly interested to pursue such a thing, either. At least not right now. He still needed to get his head on straight; still needed to figure out his own problems before he took on someone else’s.

Even if you were a pretty little thing he might have taken dancing, once.

Then you added, “If you have any questions, just shoot me a text, okay? I remember how lost I was when I first started, especially because I’m a,” you did some air-quotes, then, “‘mature-aged’ student.” Another snort, one much less ladylike than before. “Mature-aged. I’m not that old!”

So it was a friendly offer. Nothing more. Not like the implications in the 40s – and Bucky thought, then, that if you were considered to be ‘mature-aged,’ he didn’t want to find out how he’d stack up.

“Thanks,” he said again, this time a little less unsurely. “I appreciate it.”

Another one of your bright smiles brought a sense of calm over him, a feeling that carried over even when you poked fun at him again, “Then I guess I’ll see you next week, Mr. Goody Two-Shoes.” 

“Yeah,” he responded, feeling the corners of his lips turn up just a little at your goodnatured teasing. “See you next week.”

And when he left the lecture hall, fluorescent pink post-it stuck to the inside of his notebook, Bucky’s footsteps felt just a little lighter than before – and so did his heart.

Part Two

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky x reader #bucky x you #bucky barnes #breathe

[purpleoffbeat]

Let's Bring Them Hell

After Wednesday's mind body spirit challenge, Group West is disqualified (for whatever reason). It is then that Venus has a wonderful idea...

(Post-We Know the Demo, game events don't happen. Written in under 3 hours, if it's particularly bad I'm sorry. Also the narration misgenders Venus because at that point she hasn't come out yet. This doesn't last for the whole fic though.)

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

We don't have to. Or rather, we shouldn't. We won't if one of us doesn't want to. But we definitely will if we're all in it. So should we?

---

Another Wednesday means another fucking week's end bonfire. Why Wednesday is considered the week's end is really stupid but who really cares. Nothing about this shitty camp makes any sense. It's a camp for bad kids but some are worse than others so those get the short end of the stick by default without any way of redeeming themselves. Why bother being good?

"Fuck this." Neptune is in her usual mood, "Fuck this camp and fuck everyone here. We seriously did so good and should've been crowned winners of this challenge shit the captain puts us through but we were disqualified. That's insulting." She grabs her phone again and sighs when there's no new messages waiting for her.

"Guess I was wrong, haha..." Jupiter laughs awkwardly. That's right, she had said earlier that maybe everything would go right for the challenge. For no apparent reason. But maybe everything would go right and everything went wrong in unpredictable ways. Such a monumental fuck up that they were disqualified. They would certainly hear sermon from the captain or whatever at a later time. Fuck that too.

While Jupiter looks dejected fumbling with her hair tie and Neptune fiddles with her phone, Venus has a sort of realization: no one is around anymore. And it's like there's two directions to go. The way everyone went, and...

Venus is pretty smart, he knows where they are, mostly, and where the roads should be, kinda. It can't be too far. A way out. Venus always wanted that. And now they can have it.

"What if we just, run." The words come out of his mouth before there's even any time to process what he's saying.

Neptune's eyes widen, "Haha are you serious. Good kid Venus seriously just said that? Are you having a fever? Jupiter, don't."

She stops in her tracks and brings her hand down, with an awkward smile. "Right... um. Anyways we should go."

"Seriously though."

"He's right actually."

"You can't be serious?"

"I am." She turns to Venus, who looks away sheepishly and stays quiet.

Neptune narrows her eyes. "That is the best idea you've had all summer so don't fucking dare back out of it now." With that, Venus could only awkwardly laugh. "UUUGH fuck you both let's go."

"No! I mean, no. Let's not, haha good one Venus, let's go back." Jupiter almost reaches for them both but decides not to in time. She heads towards the camp, where everyone is surely talking about them being missing. Or maybe not 'cause who cares about Group West.

Neptune grabs Jupiter's hand. Oh no. "No way, this is the perfect opportunity and we aren't gonna just pretend this isn't the best for us."

"She's right." It seems Venus has decided. "If this is our way out then we should take it." He takes Jupiter's other hand. "I'm so sick of this. Of pretending I'm someone I'm not. Of pretending I'm good. I don't have the strength to care anymore. Any better kid would. But I'm the worst. Let's go." He smiles at Jupiter.

She can only gasp. She looks back at Neptune who only nods. Jupiter thinks this can't be happening. So she lets go of their hands, because touch can only be a bad thing. So she begins rubbing her temples. "This can't be happening. This just can't. We can't. We'd get punished. We'd never hear the end of it and we'd never be ok ever again. This is wrong you guys! Can't you see it?!"

"I can see perfectly. Don't tell me I don't 'cause I do. I really do. And I see our future is just up ahead, that way." Venus is more serious than normal.

Neptune begins speaking in an unusually calm tone. "Look, it's hard for us too you know? But in this world what's good is wrong and what's wrong is good. So let's forget the world and make our own. They say we just have to survive a few more years until we're adults but fuck that. Even then we'll have to conform to some bullshit standards and norms that will make us never live in peace. So let's live the way we want." She smiles genuinely. "Our way."

Jupiter's heart has never beat faster. She's crying already, and there's nothing to stop the flood. Neptune has that power.

Venus brings a hand to her shoulder. "It's okay, we'll get out of here and everything will be fine. For real this time."

And Jupiter feels like she could fly. She can see it now.

She thinks about how she let go of their hands so selfishly, yet with so little attention to her selfish desires. Holding hands feels wrong, but letting go feels worse, so when she reaches towards their hands, it feels right again. It's a wonderful sensation, to realize who you are after all this time.

A storm is brewing, but they didn't notice until now. Where it is doesn't matter, what suddenly comes to attention is the sound of distant footsteps. It's do or die now.

So Jupiter takes the first step forward.

Should we?

No, we shouldn't.

We will.

In a moment, the three begin running away. The sound of the storm brewing in their hearts is the most lovely thing, and soon the noise of the sirens in the distance joins to make a perfect wretched harmony. They left everything behind. Possessions, responsibilities, weights they didn't think they would've gotten rid of. They feel lighter than ever before. And it is amazing.

---

Under a bridge, they stop to rest. It's been a while, and they're just outside the city. Soon they will be reunited with their parents, but ready to face the consequences.

They all sit down on the ground. "That was amazing!" Jupiter is glad they decided to run away. "We're gonna be in so much trouble!" She says, almost as if looking forward to it. Being freed from her past desires of being a good kid feels great.

"Venus you opportunistic little shit." Neptune smiles. "The best. Fucking. Idea. Ever." Then she laughs, though still catching her breath.

"Um guys, I need to talk to you about something." Shy Venus sighs. "I was thinking about this actually, and I think it's kind of important... So, we're gonna live the way we want, yeah?"

"Uh-huh." Jupiter nods.

"We'll be selfish and act on our wishes?"

"Exactly." Neptune crosses her arms.

"Well uhh. How do I put this. I wish I was a girl."

Jupiter opens her mouth, but no words come out. She's surprised by Venus's bluntness but it's also very like him (???) to do that.

Meanwhile Neptune looks suspicious. "So you want to be a girl."

"Y-yeah..."

"You wish you were a girl."

"Yeah...!" Venus looks determined.

"Do you know what that means? In our world there's no such thing as wanting to be. We don't wish, we are. We make it true. Venus... you ARE a girl."

Venus gasps, and doesn't know what to think.

"She's right." Jupiter speaks up. "If no one else wants it to be real, we'll force it upon them. That's what I learned from you two." She smiles.

Venus begins crying. She can't stop the tears from coming down. Neptune's kindness made her do that, and now there's no stopping. Jupiter's new resolve feels like a breath of fresh air, and it couldn't feel better. Venus sees the light now. She smiles. When she begins wiping her tears with one hand, Neptune grabs her other one. Once Venus is done, Jupiter thinks of doing the same.

She goes to snap her hair tie, but stops in her tracks. Neptune notices, and she looks furious. "Show me your hand." She demands. Jupiter is hesitant but complies. Then Neptune grabs both hair ties.

She ties one around her own hair, and the other around Venus's hair, making a ponytail for each. "There. Now you won't ever do that bullshit again."

"Uhh!" Jupiter doesn't know what to do.

"I know, you know? That you do that shit whenever you wanna touch someone? Fuck that, you touch whenever you damn well please."

"Actually... it's not just that." She looks down. "Truth is, it's not just when touching. It's also... you know, haha." She can't say it.

But Neptune can. "Gay thoughts?" Venus bursts out laughing.

"Wellllll... yeah!" Jupiter giggles too.

Neptune is quick to change the spotlight. "And you Venus? You like girls?"

"Umm, yeah actually!"

"Good! We're all lesbians then!"

Jupiter gasps, but then Venus turns to her confused. "You didn't know??"

"YOU KNEW??!"

"Um, obviously???"

"Girls, girls, calm down. There's enough Neptune for the both of you." She grins deviously.

"What are you even talking about??" Venus even raised her voice.

It wasn't long before they decided to walk towards the city again. As they chatted away, the Devil could only smile. She thought,

"If you refuse to go to his world, and won't come to mine, then let me in, girls, let's make the world a place for all of us. Let's bring them hell."

#we know the devil #wktd #fic #post-demo btw #also i tried to replicate aevee bee's writing style in the beginning but dropped it as i went along #this is so trash im sorry its almost 8am and i need to sleep #worst girls games

[sunflowerseedsandscience]

19 or 41 for the trope prompts!

41. Overhearing they have feelings for you

The phone on Mulder’s desk rings barely five minutes after Scully leaves for the day, and without looking up, he answers it.

“Mulder.”

“Oh, good, I caught you before you left work.”

Even though Teena Mulder can’t see him, Mulder instinctively jerks upright, out of his slouch. “Mom!” His stomach clenches. “Is everything okay?” He and his mother haven’t spoken more than a handful of times since the afternoon he’d had holes drilled in his head, driven to her house to accuse her of having an affair, and taken off after she’d slapped him. He’d apologized, at Scully’s insistence, but even so, their past few calls have been... awkward.

“Everything is fine,” Teena reassures him. “I’ve been calling you at home for the past two days but you haven’t been answering.”

“We’ve been out of town on a case,” Mulder says. “We got back late last night and I crashed as soon as I walked in the door.” He settles back in his chair again. “So what’s up?”

“Well, I’m making my plans for the holiday season, and I wanted to know: would you care to join me up here for Thanksgiving dinner?”

There’s a beat of silence as Mulder absorbs his mother’s words... and the silence stretches on as he tries to remember the last time he’d shared a holiday meal with his mother. For that matter, when had his mother last acknowledged any holiday at all? If she’s done anything for Thanksgiving since Samantha, he’s never heard anything about it.

“Thanksgiving?” he asks blankly. “With you?”

“You don’t have to sound so shocked,” Teena admonishes. “If the idea is so abhorrent to you, you don’t need--”

“No no no, it’s not that,” Mulder says quickly. “It’s just... I didn’t realize you still did anything for the holidays at all.”

“I haven’t,” says Teena. “Not for years now. But I thought... well....” She clears her throat, and Mulder braces himself. Is she sick? Is that what’s prompted this sudden desire to see him? “I didn’t want the last time I saw you to be... that is, I felt that....” She trails off again.

“Mom, what is it?” Mulder prompts, and his mother sighs.

“I just wanted to see you,” she says. “Is that so hard to believe?” Yes, Mulder thinks, and perhaps Teena knows what he’s not saying, because she doesn’t give him a chance to answer. “So I was thinking you could come up here Wednesday evening, if you’re not too tired after work, and I could make us a nice meal Thursday, and if you don’t want to stay longer, you can leave after we eat... though you’re welcome to stay the whole weekend, of course.”

“Mom,” says Mulder, sighing, “I’m sorry, but I can’t.”

“I understand,” Teena says, but her voice is sad. “I’m sure you’d be uncomfortable after what happened, but I thought I’d ask anyway.”

“No, it’s not that,” says Mulder quickly. “It’s just that... Scully invited me to spend Thanksgiving with her.”

“Oh.” A beat. “Your partner? The one who was with you when....” Teena clears her throat. “The one who was sick?”

“Yup.” Mulder suppresses a shudder. Scully’s been back at work and in the bloom of health for two months, but all it takes is one mention of her illness, and Mulder’s mind fills with the images of her in the hospital, when they’d both thought the end was approaching. He gives himself a mental shake. “She, uh... she wasn’t expected to survive, but....” He grins. “Scully’s stubborn like that, I guess. The doctors told her she couldn’t do something, so she made sure to prove them wrong.” His mother chuckles.

“I’m glad,” she says softly. “You must have been so relieved.”

“You have no idea,” Mulder says, closing his eyes and leaning back in his desk chair, swiveling away from his desk.

“Give me an idea, then,” Teena entreats him. "I’ve always liked her, ever since I met her at your father’s funeral. Everyone else was convinced you were dead, too, but not her. I don’t know if I’ve ever thanked her for the hope she gave me that day.” Teena sniffs. If Mulder didn’t know any better, he’d think she's crying.

“Scully....” Mulder gazes up, through the dark skylights. She must be in her car by now, headed to her apartment. He wonders if maybe he could fabricate a reason to head there himself. An unsigned form he could insist Skinner needs immediately, a case he needs her opinion on that just can’t wait until Monday... anything for a little extra time in her presence. These days, he doesn’t take a single minute for granted.

“There’s nothing like almost losing someone to make you realize how precious they are to you,” says Teena. Mulder starts, sitting up straight, as he realizes he’s just spoken aloud.

“Uh... yeah. That’s true.” Jesus. This really isn’t a conversation he’s ready to have with his mother just yet, if ever. He curses his carelessness... and then thinks, What the hell. He never talks about this to anyone. Why not talk to someone who lives five states away, someone he sees maybe once a year?

“The thing is... I’ve been in love with Scully for a long, long time.” It’s the first time he’s admitted it out loud. “And every time something happens to her, I get just a little closer to telling her.” He sighs. “I don’t know how much longer I can hold out.”

“Why not tell her?” Teena asks. “Don’t you think she’d like to know?”

“And what happens if she doesn’t feel the same way? I rely on her for so much, Mom. If things got awkward between us, it could be the end of our partnership.”

Much to Mulder’s surprise, his mother laughs. “Oh, Honey, I don’t think you have to worry about that. The look on her face when she told me she just knew you were alive was enough to tell me everything I needed to know.”

“So what am I supposed to do, then?” Mulder asks. “Drive to her apartment and tell her, ‘Scully, I’ve been in love with you for years?’”

“That would be a start.”

The voice isn’t Teena’s... and it’s not coming from the phone.

Mulder whirls around in the desk chair so quickly, he nearly slides off. Scully stands in the doorway, arms crossed, eyebrows somewhere near her hairline. 

“Fox, who is that?” His mother’s voice seems to be coming from very far away, even though the phone is still pressed to his ear. He finds he can’t answer either woman. “Is that her?”

“Mom, I’m gonna have to call you back.” Mulder’s voice comes out in a strangled yelp, barely coherent, but he doesn’t wait to make sure his mom has understood him. He drops the receiver into its cradle. He and Scully stare at each other from across the office, and try as he might, Mulder can’t read her expression.

“How long have you been standing there?” he asks.

“Awhile.” She walks forward and picks up her car keys from where she must have forgotten them, on a table next to the coffeemaker, then turns to face him. “You should call her back,” she says. “Invite her to join us at my mom’s for Thanksgiving.”

“You want my mom to come to Thanksgiving dinner?” Mulder asks, perplexed at the turn the conversation’s taken. “Why?”

Scully crosses the office and seats herself on the edge of the desk, directly in front of him. “Because, Mulder,” she says, leaning forward and playing with his tie, “when I get really serious about a guy... when I’m in love with him the way I’m in love with you... my mom’s going to want our families to meet.” She meets his eyes as a brilliant smile spreads over her face. “She’s traditional like that.”

[aliceslantern]

Grow, a Kingdom Hearts fanfic, chapter 11

Suddenly human and abandoned in the Keyblade Graveyard, Demyx struggles to survive and come to terms with what his life is. Only by chance is he saved from exposure, and brought to Radiant Garden to recover. Unsure of who he is and where to even begin, Demyx finds a kindred spirit in Ienzo, and before long finds perhaps he isn't the only one lost in this new life. But how can they move forward with so much holding them back?

Roughly canonverse, Zemyx, hurt/comfort. Started for Zemyx day (9/6). Updates Wednesdays until it's done.

Chapter summary:  In the wake of memories, Ienzo has a breakdown. The time in the desert catches up to Demyx.

Read it on FF.net/on AO3

---

Demyx woke with a gasp. He was soaked in sweat, and he looked at his hands. My name , he thought dazedly. That’s my name! He turned to Ienzo, ready to wake him up and tell him everything.

Except Ienzo was already awake. He was on his side, curled tightly, and he was crying.

“Hey,” Demyx said softly. “Bad dream?”

“I’m fine,” he said. “Go back to sleep.”

“You’re not fine, if you’re crying.”

“It’s an involuntary reaction.”

“What happened?”

“One in a hundred basement dreams,” he said. “Just… all these moments I could’ve stopped--feeling my… heart get ripped out of my chest…” He shuddered. “This pain is just what I deserve. Karma.”

“You don’t deserve that.”

“After all I’ve done?” Ienzo asked in a high voice. “This is the least of what I deserve.”

“No. No, Zo. That’s just not true.”

“Why not.”

“You couldn’t help being lead onto that path--”

“What about after?” his tone was shrill. “When I was old enough, when I should’ve known right from wrong?”

Demyx didn’t know what to say.

“We killed people, Demyx.” He got up and started rather violently getting dressed. “Come on. You need to see something, if you want to be with me.”

Demyx could only follow. He was feeling hot and dizzy again. Ienzo led him down to the computer lab, to a door at the far side. He punched in numbers, breathing heavily. “We don’t have to--”

“ Yes we do. ” The syllables rang loudly in the metal space.

Demyx reached forward to touch his shoulders, fighting his own nausea. “No. We don’t.”

Ienzo slapped his hands away, grabbed one, and brought him downstairs into the basement.

The basement… was just a basement.

Demyx felt that bad things had happened here. The energy was just too charged. Ienzo stood, staring, dazed, at the cells, all of the doors closed and quiet. It was strangely clean. Empty.

“I killed people,” Ienzo said, in a much lower voice. “I wanted to do experiments and when I asked they said okay. I manipulated people. Pushed them to their breaking points, psychologically. When they were broken Xehanort plucked out their hearts, and I didn’t feel the least bit sorry. I thought we were making discoveries which would change the world.”

Demyx swallowed. He thought of a childlike Ienzo standing over a body fading to darkness.

“I killed people,” he repeated. “And afterwards when I could not feel I killed even more, let whole worlds fall because of our plans. Why am I--why am I still here?”

“You’ve been given a second chance,” Demyx said. “You were a… you were a kid, Zo.” He chanced touching his shoulder. “You were manipulated onto this path. You said it yourself--Xehanort gaslit you into thinking this lab was your idea. You were too young. Too smart.”

“Too smart,” he echoed.

“And you chose good now, right? You chose to help the world? That means a lot. That means so much.” His vision was swarming. He cupped Ienzo’s face.

“Seeing this--how could you still--”

“I love you.”

If anything, this was the wrong thing to say. “Why?” It was nearly a bleat. “Why? Why ?”

“I do, Ienzo. I do. We talked about this. What were you supposed to do? These people were your parents, and they asked you for something, and you were good at it. They took your dad away. You had nothing left. What were you supposed to do? Run away, at eight, ten, twelve years old? Give up everything? How were you supposed to know what was going to happen?”

The wildness in his eye was fading.

“And you’re doing everything in your power to put it right, right? To fix it? To help people? And you are. You work so hard every day. You’re using that research to help people. It’s going to change the world.” He felt like he was talking out of his ass. “Look, it so sucks that you had to go through this. But I’m too selfish to let you keep hating and blaming yourself when this is not your fault .” His voice echoed loudly. “Not when I can see the real you. And he is so kind and patient and smart and funny. You… you deserve to be here. You deserved to be loved. I mean it.” He was sweating all over, and the pain in his back had returned, thumping in time with his racing heart. “I mean it.”

Ienzo sank to his knees. Demyx knelt with him and pulled him close. He was crying again, but it seemed like the kind of crying that had to happen, so Demyx just shushed and rocked him. After what felt like hours, hours where Demyx struggled not to vomit, struggled to stay completely conscious, he calmed. “Oh Demyx,” he said. “Oh.”

“I know. It’s okay. We can pretend this didn’t happen.”

“I don’t want to.” He stood and offered him his hands. “I love you too. I don’t… I don’t deserve you.”

“More like I don’t deserve you.” He smiled, weakly. He was feeling weird now, and wanted to go back to bed. “Let’s go home, okay?”

The long, long walk back upstairs seemed to take an eternity. “Your hand is really warm,” Ienzo said.

“The stress made me hot.” Why was he lying? He needed help.

“I insist you see Even first thing in the morning.”

“...I will.” He was feeling even stranger now, hazy, weird. Upstairs was in sight now. Maybe he could sit for a few minutes when they got there…

They passed the threshold. Something unraveled in him, went sharp, went weird, went sideways--

---

The next thing Demyx was aware of, he was on the cold hard metal floor, on his side, and his head was in Ienzo’s lap. There was the smell of vomit, a slickness of sweat, and there was an awkward wetness between his legs. “...What…” He mumbled. His head was pounding, and the pain in his back had reached a fever pitch.

“Don’t move. Try to relax.”

“What happened?”

“You had a seizure.”

“I don’t… remember…”

“Of course you don’t.”

“Where are my glasses?”

“I took them off for safekeeping. Even and Dilan are coming. Just try to stay still until then.”

He looked down as much as he was able. A spare lab coat had been spread over his lap. He realized what the wetness was; he’d pissed himself. A humiliated flush heated his face. “I’m sorry I peed,” he mumbled. “And threw up.”

“It was completely involuntary, Demyx, it’s okay. Most people do when they seize.” His voice was soothing, but he detected an undertone of stress. Ienzo stroked his sweaty hair.

Footsteps. “What are you two doing down here?” Even snapped. “How long did he seize for?”

“I’m not sure exactly--I was trying to keep him from aspirating the vomit.”

“Boy, minutes count. Guess.”

“Five minutes or so?”

Even swore. He knelt down by Demyx. “Hello there,” he said.

“I’m sorry.” His eyes watered.

“It’s alright, child.”

Child? That’s how Demyx knew he was in deep shit. He felt Even’s cold hands taking his pulse, his temperature.

“Febrile,” he muttered. “What else do you feel?”

“Sick,” he said. “Just really… sick. And…” He swallowed. “My back really hurts? Like a lot?”

Even probed him gently. “Here? Right here?”

He hissed. “Right there.”

“Ah,” Even said. Demyx couldn’t see his expression clearly.

“Even, what is--” Ienzo began. Then, “oh.”

“Quite,” Even said. “Oh, Dilan, there you are. Thanks for taking your sweet time.”

“I’m tired,” Demyx murmured.

“Close your eyes and rest,” Ienzo said. “It’s okay.”

---

He didn’t get all the way asleep, but awareness slid in and out. He was vaguely aware of Ienzo changing him into a robe, of Even taking blood samples. The pain was still awful and nausea brought him around. “Oh,” he said.

Ienzo’s head snapped up. He was sitting next to the bed in the infirmary. “What do you need?”

“I’m gonna be sick.”

He held a bin in front of him. Demyx heaved, but nothing other than water really came up. “I’ll have Even give you an antiemetic.” He handed him a cup of water to rinse out his mouth.

“What’s wrong with me?” he asked wearily. He had a suspicion but he needed it in words.

“We’re trying to figure out for sure. You need to relax. It’s going to be okay.”

He tried to lay back. For a while he just felt weak and hazy and sweaty until he looked up and saw Even. The man rubbed a prep pad over his bicep, and Demyx felt a pick of a needle, then a numbness in his arm. “What are you doing?”

“Oh, you’re awake,” he said. Demyx didn’t recall sleeping. “I’m putting a port line in. You remember from before, yes? This is just something to make that process more comfortable.”

“Why?” he asked.

“You need the fluids,” Even said. Despite the numbing, when he put the line in Demyx felt every little pinch and prick. “Okay. Okay. Steady. Good boy. I’m done.”

Thin, strange-tasting tears ran down his face. He felt something stinging injected into the line--an antiemetic like Ienzo said? A painkiller? Just saline?--but whatever it was made him so exhausted he dozed.

In this haze Demyx heard voices.

“...You’re sure?”

“I showed you the numbers, Ienzo. The fever, the vomiting, the seizing especially. I wish he were lucid enough so I could ask how long the symptoms have existed…”

“At least since yesterday.”

“...It’s advanced enough that I’m sure it’s been longer. I… had suspected he might not bounce back so quickly. But he’s young, and fit more or less, so I didn’t see a reason to scare him unnecessarily. Which begs the question why you two were alone for so long yesterday, but there are more immediate problems.”

“So what do we do?”

“The dialysis will buy some time and make him feel better. But it’s not a good long term solution--not to mention it will greatly decrease his quality of life.”

“So there’s truly no way they will bounce back?”

“The loss of function was complete, Ienzo, complete. If the medications he’s been taking haven’t been helping, nothing will.” A long pause. “I may have a solution, but it will take a little time. ”

“I think I catch your drift.”

Demyx slept. When he woke he felt considerably less shitty, but with this clarity came a bunch of truths he wasn’t ready to face.

He’d remembered his name and a little bit more of his past.

He’d seen Ienzo in a godawful amount of pain.

There was something seriously medically wrong with him.

The line in his arm pinched. He sat up a little. He could see blood creeping down one line and back in another, with plain fluid in a third. The blood was connected to a small machine, which was ticking along quietly. His glasses had been set on a bedside table. Demyx knew without looking he was back in the infirmary.

Ienzo was dozing in the chair next to the bed, a scratchy-looking blanket tucked around his shoulders.

Demyx felt mostly… numb.

Ienzo jolted awake with a start. “Demyx.”

“Hey.”

“How do you feel?”

“Lots better. Tired, though.” His muscles were sore, he realized; not the terrible awful ache he’d been living with (which had quieted, it seemed, for the time being). “I’m in pretty deep shit, aren’t it?”

Ienzo sighed heavily. He sat up. “Yes,” he said tiredly.

“My kidneys are fucked, aren’t they?”

“The technical diagnosis is “renal failure” but, yes.” He reached over to touch Demyx’s face. “Even thinks he has a solution. You just have to hold on long enough for him to implement it.”

He sighed. In his mind’s eye he saw the desert. “Man, people might as well be made of paper,” he said. “Little dehydration and it all falls apart.”

Ienzo’s smile was cramped and sad.

He swallowed. “Before… everything got super dramatic,” he said, “I remembered something.”

“You did?”

“I… I really think I did.” He told him about the dream/memory. “She’s my sister, Ienzo.” His eyes watered. “Elrena is my sister. All of that… that insulting. It’s just a mutated form of sibling rivalry.”  

“How do you feel about that?”

“Confused,” Demyx admitted. “The spot she has in my heart is just… weird.”

“Of course it is.”

“Where is she? Is she home? Do we have parents? More siblings? Is she okay?”

“She likely recompleted. I’m sure she’s physically fine.”

“I don’t want to leave you.”

“You don’t have to,” Ienzo said. He touched one of the tubes. “Right now, you can’t .”

"And there's my name." He took a deep breath. “Edym.”

A long, long pause. Ienzo smiled. “Do you want me to call you that?”

“I’m… I’m not sure,” he said. “Maybe you could try to, and I can see how I feel?”

“Of course.” He leaned over and kissed him once. “It’s nice to meet you, Edym.”

#grow #ienzo #demyx #zemyx

[xmxisxforxmaybe]

Guess who's back? I was hoping you could envision a fluffy #3, "I'm too sober for this", with Josh? I love him and we didn't see any of him in the last prompt list.

Add Josh Washington to the list of Rami Malek characters done so wrong—this fluffy piece takes place before the events of Until Down during Josh’s first year of college.

* * * * *

Josh knew that if he slunk any lower in his chair, he would fall asleep. It was no lie that freshman got the shittiest course times for classes, but a 7 pm class with Professor Hughes was the absolute worst part of Josh’s day.

 It was too late by the time he found out that Psych 101 with Hughes was the shittiest combination in his entire major, so every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday, Josh trudged to class. Well, most Fridays. He had calculated that as long as he aced his tests and only missed three classes, he would still get an A in the course.

 And the tests were easy—Professor Hughes pulled the test questions from the end-of-unit practice exams. The part that was the worst was the class consisted of Hughes reading to them from their textbook . . . verbatim. No discussion. No checks for comprehension. Just. Reading. Aloud.

“European philosophers continued to ask these fundamental questions during the Renaissance. For instance, the French philosopher René Descartes (1596–1650) also considered the issue of free will, arguing in its favor and believing that the mind controls the body through the pineal gland in the brain (an idea that made some sense at the time but was later proved incorrect).

 Descartes also believed in the existence of innate natural abilities. A scientist as well as a philosopher, Descartes dissected animals and was among the first to understand that the nerves controlled the muscles. He also addressed the relationship between mind (the mental aspects of life) and body believed in the principle of dualism: that the mind is fundamentally different from the mechanical body. Other European philosophers, including Thomas Hobbes (1588–1679), John Locke (1632–1704), and Jean-Jacques Rousseau (1712–1778), also weighed in on these issues.”

 "I'm too sober for this," Josh said under his breath, causing you to giggle.

 Josh tilted his beanie-clad head back, catching your eye and shooting you a smirk. Over the past few weeks, the two of you had become pretty-good class buddies. Most of your class consisted of adults and commuters, but there was a small group of freshman Psych majors that had been sticking it out together. It wasn’t unusual for Josh and the others to take a few shots before they showed up to class like the upper classmen had advised them to do.

 You quietly tore off a piece of notebook paper and scrawled, Was that why you missed class last week? Couldn’t pass up on the big party?

 You poked Josh in the back and he reached behind him without even turning to grab your note. By Friday, neither you nor Josh could survive the two-hour class without some form of entertainment, so you had taken to writing notes to pass the time.

 You know I had to get my pre-game on. Thought you were gonna make an appearance?

 As you read over Josh’s response, you wondered whether you should tell him the truth—that you never drank so parties like that weren’t your scene. You knew Josh was a seasoned partier and you didn’t want him to think that you were judging his choice to drink. You also didn’t want him to think you were totally lame like a lot of people did when they found out.

 You sighed and quickly scrawled, Confession: I don’t party—don’t drink, don’t smoke, nothing. I’m just not into the whole ‘let’s get fucked up’ scene.

 When Josh read your response, he straightened up in his chair and grabbed his pen, quickly writing back, Let me get this straight. You are always totally sober every single time you come to this class? And you never miss a class?

 You smiled a little and wrote back, Yup. I take Professor Hughes 3x a week totally straight.

 When Josh read your response, he turned around and looked at you with an open-mouthed expression of awe. He shook his head and then turned around, reaching for his pen again.

 You are far more of a badass than I am.

 You smiled as you read his words, pleased that he didn’t think you were totally lame.

 “Class dismissed. See you on Monday,” Professor Hughes stated in the same monotone voice with which he read the textbook.

 Josh turned around the instant everyone began to shuffle their belongings into their bags.

 “I just figured you didn’t come take shots with us because you did them with other people.”

 You stood up, placing your bookbag on your chair in order to pack up your stuff.

 “Nope. I just don’t . . . drink.”

 “I feel like an ass for bugging you to come to that party now,” Josh said as he finally stood, too.

 “I’m glad you invited me. I just wasn’t sure how to tell you that I don’t party. I didn’t want you to think I was judging you or anyone else and people usually think I’m pretty lame once they find out. Or they befriend me to have a chronic DD,” you finished with a shrug of your shoulders.

 Josh had finished packing his bag while you talked and now stood with it flung over one shoulder. He was holding onto the strap, looking just a little nervous.

 You arched your brow and asked, “What?”

 “Uh, well, if partying isn’t your thing, how would you feel about coming over to watch a movie?”

 “Won’t your friends miss you at tonight’s party? It is Friday night.”

 “Oh, definitely. I’m hilarious, ya know. But I really wanna hang out with you—I mean, how often does someone get to meet a superhero with the ability to stay awake and sober in Professor Hughes’s class?”

 You laughed, “Alright. Yeah, I’d love to watch a movie with you. As long as you have good taste,” you added, teasing Josh.

 “I’m offended. You never listen to a thing I say, well, read a thing I write.”

 “Not true,” you said, patting the side of your bookbag. “I keep every word.”

 Josh looked like he could kiss you in that moment, clearly touched that you had kept your exchanged notes.

 So when he smiled at you, a wide, happy grin, your stomach did a little flip.  

 “Let’s get the hell out of Dodge,” Josh said, quoting an old TV show and offering you his arm.

 You smiled and shook your head at him as you linked your arm in his.

#josh washington #josh washington x reader #josh washington drabble

[isthatbloodonhisshirt]

New Year’s Wrap Up!

Thank you @corancoranthemagicalman​ for tagging me in this! I honestly don’t ever think about these things ahaha |D So this is kinda cool tbh. Thank you :3 

Does my current WIP technically count in this case? I’ll pretend it does, I mean, I WROTE it in 2019, just didn’t post it until December 30th |D lol So technically, it counts, it’s only a WIP on Ao3, not on my computer :P 

Fics that you wrote in 2019

Up Down Lock Unlock (Sterek, 42k, G)

Through the Window (Sterek, 6.8k, G)

Business Skype (Sterek, 6k, G)

It Was a Wednesday (Sterek, 80k, M)

Be Still My Heart (You’re Beating Too Loud and my Neighbour’s a Bitch) (Sterek, 34k, T+)

What Fresh Twilight Bullshit is This? (Sterek, 196k, E)

Everyone Needs a Little Mischief in their Life (Sterek, 18k, T+)

There’s no Escape for the Potato Man (Sterek, 54k, T+)

SuperWing, Stucky and SlaDick, Oh My! (Sterek, 34.8k, T+)

Quack (Stiles Stop Calling It That) (Sterek, 16k, T+)

Because Family is More than Just Blood (Sterek, 5K, G)

I mean, again, TECHNICALLY Actions Speak Louder Than Words also counts because I wrote it in 2019 and am just posting most of it in 2020... So... (Sterek, 384k, E)

We are going to assume all questions are answered with the inclusion of Actions.

Total Fics: I wrote 12 fics this year. Enough to be considered one a month, except definitely not one a month since Twilight took me two months and Actions took me a fucking ETERNITY, like, I think I started in July? Maybe August, but still, took me FOREVER!  

Total Words: 877,632. Less than last year :( I broke a million words last year. Maybe I can break 2 Million in 2020! (LOL Yeah no...) 

Ship/Character Breakdowns: LOL Sterek. That’s... that’s it... 

Best/Worst Title:  Best Title (IMO): What Fresh Twilight Bullshit is This? (Idk man, I laugh every time I think about it, so I like it) Runner up Best Title: It Was a Wednesday Worst Title: Up Down Lock Unlock. (I legit had no idea what to call that fic, so, you know |D)

Best/Worst First Line:  Best First Line: From “Everyone Needs a Little Mischief in Their Life” 

To be fair, he hadn’t exactly meant to throw him into a tree.

Worst First Line: From “Quack (Stiles Stop Calling It That)”

“Stiles.” A loud grunt escaped said individual at the harsh smack to his posterior. “Up. Get up.”

General Questions

Looking back, did you write more fics than you thought you would this year, less than you thought, or about what you predicted?

I feel like kind of less than I thought. I had plans for two others but then Actions took over and I know myself well enough to know if I didn’t finish it first, I never would. So I’m gonna take a short break to catch up on like, life >.> And then start back up again starting with a long overdue birthday present. Hopefully I can write more in 2020 \o/

What pairing/genre/fandom did you write that you would never have predicted last year?

HAHAHA Uh, I only wrote Sterek and I knew I would only write Sterek so I guess I knew all along? Man, I write too much Sterek... 

What’s your favorite story this year? Not the most popular, but the one that makes you the happiest.

Probably It Was a Wednesday. I mean, it was super SAD, and I was AWFUL to poor Stiles, but idk, I don’t write Derek’s POV very much, and I kind of liked having Derek be the one to save someone else for once. And I liked that he was the only one who could truly understand what Stiles had gone through compared to everyone else. It was also nice being able to write a fic where it showcases the pack can’t survive without Stiles because once he disappeared, the pack fell apart, and my honest opinion is that that is 100% what would happen. Without Stiles, the pack can’t function and begins to fracture, so it was fun writing them coming back together around him when he returned. 

Okay, NOW your most popular story.

From 2019, What Fresh Twilight Bullshit is This? To be fair, it’s like, 116k words longer than my next longest fic of 2019 so I feel like that’s an unfair comparison lol.

Story most underappreciated by the universe?

I say It Was a Wednesday -slams hands on desk- But I’m biased because it’s my fav from 2019 >.> But it’s number 5 kudos-wise for 2019! I think it’s the angst. The first four are all more fluffy (Except Twilight, but it has an equal amount of fluff and angst). I guess my real self is coming out. SURPRISE! I am an Angst Queen >.>

Story that could have been better?

Be Still My Heart (My Neighbour’s a Bitch and You’re Beating Too Loud). Honestly, not super happy with that fic, but I wrote it for personal reasons. To copy/paste so as not to repeat myself: 

(As of October 2019) So basically, Stiles is currently me. I have had a neighbour complaining about me for literally 31 months (which, for people bad at math like me, is OVER two years) and they are literally ruining my life. I have massive anxiety every time I do anything, INCLUDING SLEEP, and I basically cannot live my life in any capacity. The building manager is really nice to me, but the property manager is pretty much useless and the complaints continue to come during times where I am literally passed out in bed. In light of that, I wrote this fic because by God, I needed some fucking happy in my life over a situation I have no control over. Is Derek in the wrong? I mean, yeah, I never say he's not. Did Stiles suffer? Of course he did. But you know what? He got a happy ending, because turns out his anxiety was due to a poor decision on Derek's part, and he felt terrible about it. I don't get a happy ending, I get constant anxiety and apologetic texts from the building manager because it's his job to tell me he knows I'm sleeping but lady is still complaining. So given I wrote this to make myself feel better, and I decided to share it with you, do me a favour and instead of making me feel worse by telling me how horrible I am and how shitty Derek is, just hit the red X in the corner instead and you can avoid having to look at this fic again. People write things for various reasons, it'd be real great if there was a bit more understanding and a bit less attacks in the world. You don't know why someone wrote something or what's going on with the person on the other end of the computer screen. So just click the X if you hated this fic and thought Derek was a dick to Stiles. I know he was, but Stiles at least gets to live his life anxiety-free because the building manager was in love with him. I get to go cry in the shower every night.

Sexiest story?

What Fresh Twilight Bullshit Is This? It’s the only one with smut, I’m pretty sure, so it’s really the only one that counts |D

Saddest story?

It Was a Wednesday, hands down. I was really mean to Stiles in it.

Most fun?

Oh man, uhhhh... Oh maaaaaaaaan.... I thought it would be between two of them, but it’s between FOUR... Business Skype, There’s No Escape For the Potato Man, Quack (Stiles Stop Calling It That) and SuperWing, Stucky and SlaDick, Oh My! 

Hmmmmmmmmmm..... hmhmhmhmhmhmhm....

UGH! This is hard. Okay, I’ma go with Potato Man. I got the idea randomly and it was ridiculous but still fun, so I’m gonna stick to that. It was my first instinct, going with it. 

Story with the single sweetest moment?

Actions Speak Louder Than Words, but I can’t quote the part because it hasn’t been posted yet |D 

So runner up is It Was a Wednesday:

“Need is a very specific thing. Your dad needs you, because he doesn’t know how to function without you. He needs you to be there to watch what he eats, and he needs you to stay close to him so he knows he hasn’t lost everyone he cares about. He needs you like a dying man needs one more breath. He’s desperate for it.

“Scott needs you, too. He needs you to keep him out of trouble. He needs you to challenge him, to keep him in line, to keep the Pack together. He needs you to be the voice of reason, to make the plans, to know when to fight and when to turn tail and run. Scott needs you like an Alpha needs a second, because he doesn’t know how to do this without you. He doesn’t know how to exist without you in his orbit, because you’ve never not been in his orbit before.

“But me? I don’t need you. At all. Because I survived before you, and I survived after you. I can manage without you in my life, but the difference is I won’t. Because I want you. I want you to be in my life. I want you in my space, arguing with me, annoying me, being infuriatingly right all the time. I want you to be a part of my future, whether it’s as a coworker at the garage, as a Packmate to this broken Pack that I don’t even know can be salvaged, as a friend, as a brother, I don’t care. All I know is that want and need are two different things, and just because I don’t need you doesn’t mean I don’t want you.”

Hardest story to write?

Actions Speak Louder Than Words, hands down. I love dialogue. Like, loooooooooooove dialogue, which is why writing fics with tons of texting make me supremely happy. And I decided, hey, what if I wrote a fic where one of the two main characters is cursed and can’t speak? What if I did that? And then what if I made it ALMOST 400k? WHAT IF I VERY SMARTLY DID THAT LIKE A VERY SMART PERSON? 

I’m lucky I’m still sane, tbh. 

Easiest/most fun story to write?

Okay, Business Skype can go here then. Because it was definitely the easiest, and also really fun :) 

Did any stories shift your perceptions of the characters?

I mean, kind of It Was a Wednesday, I guess. Like I said above, it made me think about how the pack can’t function without Stiles, personally. So I’d say probably that one for that reason. 

Most overdue story?

Actions Speak Louder Than Words. That thing was an asshole to me :( 

Did you take any writing risks this year? What did you learn from them? I don’t think so? Unless writing really excessively long fics this year counts? Because I did two of those... And clearly, I learned nothing from that suffering.

What are your fic writing goals for next year?

To not take five months to write one fic... That’d be good |D Kinda wanna do another challenge, but don’t know what. I’ll think on it. If anyone has any challenge ideas, let me know :) 

#not tw #corancoranthemagicalman #Blood's yakkity yaks

[calpalirwin]

You’ll Always Have Me

Summary: Alyssa and Ashton have been best friends ever since Alyssa moved in across the street the summer before second grade. Together, they were tackling the stereotype that boys and girls can’t just be friends. That is, until they almost kissed right before their junior year of high school. Can their friendship survive the jealousy that stems from their newfound feelings? And what happens when they realize these “newfound feelings” really aren’t all that new?

And away, and away we go!

Chapter 9

~Ashton~

I did my best to ignore the way Calum hung around Aly’s desk in Anatomy after lunch. I also tried to ignore how angry I felt by whatever was going on between them. They looked a little too cozy in spite of Aly swearing there was nothing serious going on between them. I also couldn’t get the way he said “girlfriend” earlier. But, she didn’t confirm it, I told myself. Yeah, but she didn’t really deny it either. Why do you care? You’re with Kayla. And didn’t you tell Aly you were okay with her being with him? Shut up...

When class got out, I walked with Aly out towards mine and Mike’s car. “Oh, c’mon, Ash,” Aly said, knocking playfully into my shoulder. “You can’t miss Kayla that much.”

“I don’t,” I said shortly.

She held up her hands defensively. “What’s with you?”

“Nothing, I’m fine.”

“Bullshit.”

“Kay’s just getting on my nerves,” I let slip.

“Why?”

“She just gets extra clingy whenever you’re around or I mention you. I like making out with her, but not that much.” It was a half-truth, but I wasn’t going to admit to Aly that Kayla was justified in her clinginess.

“Oh,” Aly nodded. “Well, maybe now that I’m seeing Cal she’ll stop feeling the need to be clingy? Like, she’ll see that there’s nothing to worry about.”

I shrugged. “Hopefully.”

“It wouldn’t hurt if you actually acted like you liked her back, either, Ash.”

“What does that mean?”

Mike cackled loudly behind us. “Juniors,” he muttered sadly to his girlfriend wrapping his arms around her.

“Mikey, that’s not very nice,” Crystal scolded lightly. “He’s having girl trouble. What’s wrong, Ashy?” she asked me.

I cringed at the name. “Girlfriend’s acting a little clingy every time we’re around Aly.”

Mike brought a finger to his lips, acting deep in thought. “Sounds like you gotta lose the deadweight. Sorry, Lys.”

“Ha-ha,” Aly said, flipping her brother off.

“I’m serious. Crys would flip if my best friend was a girl, wouldn’t you?”

“I would now. But, if you had been friends with a girl before we started dating, probably not. Ashton, girls come and go, but you’re always gonna be friends with Lys. Just treat Kayla extra special. Be extra nice.”

“See?” Aly said, nudging me. “Just spend more time with her instead of with me.”

I narrowed my eyes, trying to decide if she was bluffing or not. “Fine,” I finally said.

“But, not like today. We got plans with Lu and Si.”

At the Cliffords’ house, we practiced our song for the talent show until Aly’s mom poked her head in announcing that dinner was ready.

Back at my dad’s, I decided to listen to both Aly and Crystal’s advice about dealing with Kayla. I told myself I’d tried to reassure her of her insecurities of my friendship with Aly, rather than feed into it. Starting now, I was going to be a better boyfriend to Kayla, and hopefully a better friend to Aly as well. I pulled out my phone and opened my messages, but decided that calling her would be better.

“Hey, Ashton!” her voice sounded through the speaker after the first ring.

“Hey, I just got back from practicing with the guys and was wondering if you wanted to come over. Maybe stay for dinner with me and my dad.”

“I’ll be right over.”

I ended the call, and shot my dad a text to let him know Kayla was coming over for dinner. Then, I quickly tidied up my room. I had just finished when Kayla knocked on the door. “Hey,” I greeted, kissing her.

“Hey yourself,” she smiled.

“What? Too much?” I asked, feeling self-conscious.

“No, just… Normally I’m the affectionate one.”

“Oh. Yeah. Sorry, I’ve kind of been a jerk lately.” I took her hands in mine and held her gaze.

“Well, I have been acting a little insecure, so…” Her gaze dropped to stare at our hands.

“And I could be doing better to make you not feel that way,” I told her, cupping her chin in my hand so she’d look at me. “And I’m sorry. I’m used to just being how I am around Aly that I never really stopped and thought about how that must look to you.”

“It’s a little cozy…” she admitted.

“I know. But I’m just friends with her. There’s nothing to be insecure about. I promise.”

She scrunched up her nose, deciding whether or not to believe me. “Alright, Irwin. You’re lucky you’re cute.”

“C’mon, we’re only gonna have the place to ourselves for a bit longer,” I winked, before taking her to my bedroom.

The next morning after soccer practice, I went over to Calum who was crouched over slipping on his shoes. “Oh, hey, Irwin,” he nodded, straightening up.

“Hey, man,” I said back, figuring out how I was going to tell him that he didn’t have to worry about me being a jerk to him anymore.

“I actually wanted to talk to you if that’s cool,” he sputtered out, taking me by surprise.

“Oh? Yeah, sure, what’s up?”

“Are you okay that I’m seeing Lys? Cuz I swear, I thought you guys were just friends. If you… like I’ll back off.”

“Oh, no!” I told him. “Yeah, we’re just friends. I was actually coming over to see if you wanted to hang out with us. Aly’s really excited for your date. She even said if things go well you guys should double date with me and Kay sometime.”

“Yeah, that sounds cool.”

We talked more about soccer and classes as we walked over to where Aly was sitting at our table. She raised an eyebrow when she saw us both. “Since when did you two become all buddy-buddy?”

I shrugged. “Hood and I have been on the same soccer team for years. It was bound to happen sometime.”

“Uh-huh…” she nodded, skeptically.

“Yeah, Irwin was saying how you wanted to go on a double date. Y’know, you and me, him and Kayla. Sounds like fun,” Calum told her, getting her attention.

She raised a finger at him, “He suggested it and I said ‘if’. As in if our date goes well, maybe we’ll double with Ash and Kayla. Maybe.”

“Oh, trust me. You’ll want a second date,” he told her, winking.

She gently shoved his shoulder. “Careful there, Mr. Ego,” she flirted back. “Oh, Ash, am I still coming over later?”

“Uh…” I thought, trying to figure out when we made plans to hang out at my dad’s.

“Your dad’s poker night? I’m coming over with my dad? Should I bring my stuff? Or did you forget and make plans with Kayla?”

“Oh, right! Wednesday! Yeah, bring it.”

“Cool, I wanted to ask if you wanted to do an acoustic song for the talent show. I know Lu didn’t want to, but maybe you and I could do one ourselves?” Her flat tone did little to hide her nerves as she subconsciously picked at her nails.

“Just you and me?” My heart fluttered in my chest. Performing with the band was one thing, but performing with just Aly? Well, that was a tad intimate, wasn’t it?

“Yeah, why not? Lu doesn’t want to, and Si won’t do one without him. And we can play acoustic just fine without them.”

“Uh… sure. Any ideas on which song?”

“A few. We can practice tonight, see which one we like best?”

“Yeah, cool.”

“So, you’re gonna play 2 songs?” Calum asked her.

Aly nodded, “Yeah, why?”

“Nothing, I've just never heard you play.”

She tilted her head back, pretending to be offended. “Are you saying I suck? Cuz, I’ll have you know I’m very talented.”

“I didn’t say that. If you had let me finish, I would have said that now I’m twice as excited for you.”

“Nice save,” she laughed.

It was his turn to pretend to be offended. “You don’t believe me? That hurts.”

“Oh, shut up,” she laughed again. “And if you want to hear me play, all you have to do is stop by my place.”

“I dunno. That sounds like something a boyfriend would do.”

She shoved his shoulder again, rolling her eyes. “Gotta say, you’re not making a very good case for that second date.”

“You know, Irwin,” Calum said, turning his attention to me. “I thought Lys was one of those independent girls.”

“Yeah, I thought so, too,” I said, going along with the teasing, and trying not to look too excited about the fact that they were still figuring out what they were to each other.

“Oh, fuck you both,” Aly laughed.

“I thought you didn’t like labels,” Calum continued to tease.

“I never said I didn’t like labels. I just said it was too early to throw labels around. And you agreed.”

“Well, me coming to see you play is something you unlock when you decide to call me your boyfriend.”

“What happened to being twice as excited to see me play?”

“I said I was excited for you,” he corrected.

She narrowed her eyes. Then, never one to be on the losing side of a conversation, “Your loss, then. Which friend was it that said girl rockstars were hot? Liam? Maybe he’s free Saturday.”

“Oh, he is. But, you won’t be.”

“I dunno. Saturday’s looking pretty free to me.”

They continued this back and forth flirting game of theirs. Yeah, if I was too scared, stubborn, and stupid to make a move, at least Calum wasn’t. Aly needed someone who wasn’t intimidated by her bluster and could give her a run for her money. I still wasn’t okay with seeing it, but I had missed my chance, and that was on me.

#you'll always have me #chapter 9 #ashton irwin #5SOS #oof! you good Ash? #galcal irwin

[longeyelashedtragedy]

this has been the most wild fuckin year so let’s do a Year in Review shall we

in terms of internet and fandom life, that is. my real life has been atrociously boring but who cares about real life amirite folx

january probably the only calm month of the year.  i spent the first day of the month watching the brazilian inauguration in burgos, spain with one headphone in, while ordering for my family in a restaurant where nobody spoke english (my sister speaks decent spanish, but my whole family has like 8194814 food restrictions so it kind of went past her level of ability). translating between spanish and english with portuguese in one year was kind of awesome. i watched bodyguard and it was amazing!  what else...in january i briefly owned the issue of spanish GQ with Luka on the cover which i then forgot about until november. other than that...? nada.  the calm before the storm. (fav music)

february was so long ago that i keep forgetting how insane its 28 days were.  probably the wildest month of the year really. i got involved in an absolutely batshit and exclusive group chat with a famous person’s family member (which must remain confidential). it was all sunshine and rainbows for a week and a half and it then devolved into the most absolutely insane Lord of the Flies situation ever--it turned into 1 main chat and then 1 chat that was less puritanical than the main chat, and that chat spawned another chat that didn’t trust the previous chat, and then that chat had a massive argument and a like 6-person bitchy chat modded by a gay guy who does voodoo (shoutout to ALCIDES) spawned from that one.  i made it into every level of group chat and was asked by the tiny bitchy chat to spy on the other bitchy chat (i did not lol). i was a member of the tiny bitchy chat until i got a new phone and was logged out of whatsapp for like a month.  these words can’t even convey what this chat was like--oh and did i mention it was all conducted in only my 3rd-best language? it’s no wonder my weird ass survived middle school almost entirely unscathed.  as this was winding down, on the very last day of the month, I found out about Justin’s involvement in the SNC-Lavalin scandal and decided to go public about my years-long boner for him; Lavscam definitely changed the course of the rest year ~ Oh, also i began helping to repair a friendship that had had some Drama go down so that was p cool ~ (fav music)

march was a Time. The insanity of lavscam helped me finally finish the macdeau I started writing the previous December when a bunch of tungelr people called me disgusting for writing it.  i wrote my first straight-up serious explicit porn in years which has wound up being the third-longest thing i’ve ever published on ao3. Also, Hozier released Wasteland, Baby! which made a huge impact on me as well.  i spent like half of march staying up till 3:30 am writing said Long Fic, and i was firmly in the closet about stanning manu. also justin almost got a vote of no confidence or something and he got busted for eating a chocolate bar during a parliamentary all-nighter.  (fav music)

in april i wrote a ton of fanfic thanks to declining mental health(tm).  i think this is when i started my emmanuyell insta account and became really into making weird edits (which i still love doing just...don’t anymore.)  i started meeting some cool people thanks to macdeau.  what else happened in april? i feel like it wasn’t actually too eventful other than writing a lot of fanfic and being Annoyed about manu.  feel free to jog my memory lol.  oh i think i wrote “Okay so who from the French national team are we gonna ship Manu with” on twitter after seeing photos of manu + antoine griezmann at the World Cup but nothing came of that...at that time... (fav music)

may saw me having to deal with my shit mental health and up my meds but that seems to have had a good effect because i seem to not be too depressed to write in the winter/fall anymore! it was the 2nd anniversary of manu’s election and at the Christchurch Call in paris, macdeau took that amazing fairytale princess photo together that was completely unrivalled in Gay Shippy Feels moments until ivan went out of his way to kiss luka during the el clásico gameplay last wednesday. someone wrote ao3′s first griezmanu drabble and at the end manu gets down on his knees in front of antoine, takes off his shoes for him, and sucks his dick, and i achieved another state of being entirely.  my sister graduated from grad school and when we went down to DC for the weekend i went to eat at this restaurant manu famously ate at while there and ordered the same stuff he did and i have no idea how he consumed all that grease.  i learned about the song O Come, O Come, Emmanuel *snort*. i feel like other things happened in may too?  OH YES--i got the idea for my magnum opus, Trophy Boyfriend, and started to write it. the first scene i wrote was justin blowing manu in the hallway. then the same day i wrote the scene at the airport (which was the ending for a solid month and half till i realized it shouldn’t be), and the saddest scene in the fic--but we’ll stop to open presents.  oh! and i stumbled across the macronists discord chat which is such a delightful little community *weepy sniffles* (fav music)

june was Eventful.  a french neonazi on tumblr told me to go let manu fuck me in the ass because i was a fucking degenerate.  what a start!  then came the ceremony in which manu awarded everyone on the french national team the legion of honor medal and the way he and antoine looked at each other was truly...Wait it was the 3rd Gay Shippy Feels moment of the year.  as soon as the ceremony was over i wrote a fic about it and haven’t looked back.  between this + watching almost every 2018 World Cup game and the women’s world cup (during which I cried during argentina’s last game because of that miraculous penalty) i finally achieved my years-long goal of getting into Futbol(TM).  Antoine dropped his spotify playlist and my crush on him turned into Intense Love (TM) and also he introduced me to some legit awesome artists.  which led to (fav music)

july, in which i wrote “ça c’est ma dope” which is definitely the best thing i’ve written since i wrote “modernity towering in front of the sky” almost exactly 10 years before. got embroiled in Soccer Transfer Drama and learned its pain for the first time (unfortunately, since i wound up attaching my heart-wagon to barça’s Suddenly Least Favorite Player, the transfer drama pain has...never ended) became a full-fledged culé, O the joy O the honor.  i wanted to ship antoine with someone on the team, which in their current chemistry-less season is a real challenge, but after seeing a few photos i decided it would be fun to casually ship antoine + ivan rakitic (partially because, ever since i went from Enemies to Lovers with the croatia NT during the World Cup, he was one of the only players i knew anything about other than messi, suárez, and piqué lmao). while looking on ao3 to see what kind of headcanons people had about him--and the fic is definitely in general better than what’s out there about antoine, which is perplexing because antoine is much easier to write than ivan--i found That Amazing Rakidric Fic and thought “oh wait that ship makes a lot of sense” and started also shipping ivan and luka with the fire of a thousand suns.  oh and my air conditioner was broken for like 3 weeks. i worked on more fics, seriously outlining the path of Trophy Boyfriend, and my music taste was killer. (fav music)

in august i finished Trophy Boyfriend in my neighborhood Starbucks after writing the scene that was giving me the most trouble (the scene at the beginning where they’re organizing their book collection). the fic has made multiple people cry and people disagree on whether justin’s choice at the end was the right one and god i’m so proud of it.  Instantly went on to write ‘i might not mind,’ a lively lighthearted Friends to Lovers ivantoine~ romp which was definitely going to be a one-off and i was definitely not going to get an extra celeb crush out of it,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,, (fav music)

in september ivantoine became A Thing in my mind and it’s a whole ongoing slow-burn character-arcy series that has taken a very different turn than i had expected. i’m not saying it’s like, the most deep writing of all time, but it’s gone to some interesting places emotionally. honestly, ships and boners aside, the concept of a person who made some really stupid homophobia 101 comments many years ago slowly realizing over and over again that they have gay feelings for a man who seems rather comfortable with gayness is a fascinating one and one that’s really cool to explore in writing.  Or at least, i think so.  in many ways ivan is my most unreliable narrator because of the many layers of Discomfort, Emotion and Repression at play in the fic while he’s interacting with this pretty cheery and uncomplicated seeming-dude who’s still perceptive enough to sort of know what’s going on (and that’s not even adding in the star player/falling from grace former rockstar dynamic!!!)  i know in the current climate it’s Not Allowed to write about someone who said a bad, but luckily i’m too old to give a Fuck. ivantoine is hard to write but it’s my bff’s favorite ship of mine and has a few other excited fans on ao3 which tbh is kind of an accomplishment considering i made it up out of thin air and it’s not something you’d ever think would be a thing. instantly also developed ‘getting called out about ivan by a child on the internet’ as a goal.  and...i achieved my dream of leading high holiday services!!! (fav music)

october had more high holiday services and i worked a lot on certain fics (including d*janfic which would be fun to finish). i came up with the idea of a Very Long Rakidric Fic based on the translation of a gorgeous croatian folk song i sang in college (Janko fell asleep under the poplar/My dear and beloved/My beautiful dark eyes/Look at me/Under the poplar's golden branch/My dear and beloved/My beautiful dark eyes/Look at me/I tore off the golden branch/My dear and beloved/My beautiful dark eyes/Look at me--in which the golden branch is a reference to a way to get into the underworld). decided to start quarter-assedly learning croatian for fun.  Fun...ha.  other than fangirling a lot and watching the croatian NT play, october was pretty uneventful? i think? Justin got reelected and mauricio didn’t ;( (fav music)

in november i finally achieved my dream of having a literal child on the internet call me out about being attracted to a homophobe.  (they were a madridista even!) accidentally started writing some more rakidric and now i’m seriously hooked.  also accidentally came out of the closet about the secret crush i’d been harboring on luka modric and then one fateful day in the ihop on 14th st i realized i’d had this crush already and repressed it from my memory. Don’t do that kids! now it’s Hurting Really Bad. Ivan dropped the most pathetic and candid interview like...ever and i hope “¿Cómo puede disfrutar uno? Jugando al fútbol. ¿Cómo se siente mi hija pequeña cuando le quitan un juguete? Triste. Yo me siento igual. Me han quitado la pelota, me siento triste” goes down in the history of most epic futbol quotes of all time.  (still haven’t actually been able to watch this because no one has uploaded it anywhere)  What else...............Am i forgetting anything? i celebrated my birthday with @tender-vittles in epic fashion after two years of Not doing that, and turned 32 going on 15.  enjoyed my first-ever “x reader” fic (zlatko dalic x reader LOL) and finished “drive your plow over the bones of the dead” which was real fucking good. i saw hozier live and it was a religious experience and i unexpectedly cried during nina cried power and then called myself “Luka B” when ordering at the classy taco bell across the street after getting a glimpse of alexxx ryan in the flesh. (fav music)

now it’s december and my seasonal depression is a little worse than it’s been the past few years but i’m managing.  still shipping and writing and i just got called out about ivan again last week.  i’m 2 for 2 here!  el clásico was boring but also it was gay and my heart my heart my heart ! Anything could happen in the last 10 days of this year and honestly...I’m pretty sure I’m ready.

Most importantly this year, despite it being not that great in a lot of ways, I developed a lot more self confidence, made many important realizations, and became a lot more peaceful (despite how this post makes me sound) and wiser and less bitter and pessimistic.  And i became outspoken enough about antisemitism on the left to lose friends over it...3 for 3.  i can’t say i’m displeased with these developments.

Hasta 2020! <3

#about me #originals #GPOY #2k19 you were...wow #17 #there are def awkward omitted words here i apologize

[kariachi]

Levinstar wedding planning fic! Which I have spent the last like, six hours on.

Love it or perish.

~~

He’d never expected Mike to propose. Why should he have? Someone like Gwen, yes, eventually they were going to legally latch themselves onto somebody, but Mike? He’d never seemed the type. He had been, as far as Kevin could tell, perfectly happy to be in a position where getting tired of the way things were wouldn’t mean dragging in lawyers or anything to change course. And Kevin had been fine with that. If he hadn’t then he wouldn’t have bothered keeping up the relationship. It was cool.

But he had.

Which had been so fucking confusing.

Literally Mike’d sat there for ten minutes getting more and more aggravated at not getting an answer while Kevin had been shifting his worldview enough to acknowledge the question.

Really, they were probably the only couple in Bellwood who could get into a yelling match over a welcomed marriage proposal.

It should’ve been considered a sign.

~~

“Mike, babe, what the fuck?”

There was not a square inch of flat surface free in the Morningstar livingroom that wasn’t floor. Everywhere was calendars and books and papers and a stack of pizza boxes Kevin was very tempted to set on fire just to make a point. Domino’s, really, as if he couldn’t make him better asleep and half-dead.

“I’m trying to figure out a date for the wedding.” Mike didn’t even bother to look up, instead glowering at a list of dates like it had personally offended him. Kevin just shook his head, leaning over the back of the couch and draping his arms over his shoulders.

“Without me?”

“I was going to give you final pick when I find the best days.”

“Of course you were.” Rolling his eyes, Kevin plopped his chin onto Mike’s hair and began scanning the list. It looked to be covering the next few years, for all that there weren’t that many dates on it. “Just how long were you intending us to stay engaged, by the way?” Mike shrugged.

“I’d prefer to the married within the year, but the Miramonte is more heavily booked than I’d like for the next few. We could probably get Ocean Bleu though, which isn’t quite what I’d like but your mother’s family could get there easier. Or there’s the Cedar Lakes Estate, but that’s so… rustic.” That last word was said in about the same tone Gwen had used when she found out they were dating in the first place. This did not stop Kevin from glancing at the relevant booklets Mike gestured to and crinkling his nose.

“You realize we could just have the whole thing at Kay’s place, or at the farmhouse.” Mike turned to him with a look like he’d suggested getting married in a sewer, which he might out of spite.

“I am not getting married on a farm.”

“Why not? They’re perfectly good farms, pretty, got plenty of space, and we don’t need to worry about when venues will be available.”

“I am worth 237 million dollars,” Mike said haughtily, “you’re worth the cost of a small planet, we are not getting married on a farm. What next, do you want a cow to officiate?” Kevin punched him in the shoulder. “We’re getting married in all the finery you deserve.”

For a brief, shining moment Kevin wasn’t aggravated. What he deserved, specifically. He loved these instances where Mike’s attitude, all pride and vanity and narcissism, slipped just enough to show how he held him in high regard as well. It was sweet. It was romantic. It did not mean he was giving in.

“Consider- I don’t want chandeliers and crystal and shit. It’s a waste of money for what’s gonna take up a weekend at best.” Mike leaned forward and turned to face him.

“Consider- suck it up, you’re getting it anyway.”

“No.”

“Yes.” Kevin glowered at Mike. Mike glowered right back. Neither backed down. Really, fancy venues, they didn’t even know enough people to fill one of these venues, and it’d probably be a bitch to get the catering crews to do the amount of food they’d need.

“Look, we’ll get married at one of the mansions-”

“No, then people will think we couldn’t rent a place.” Oh good fuck. Biting back a growl, Kevin took a deep breathe and turned his attention back to the list of dates. That couldn’t be nearly as aggravating as this. It couldn’t.

“Why isn’t the Winter Solstice on there,” he asked, “that’s a good day for weddings.” It was the day for weddings, among Osmosians. Still, Mike shook his head.

“We celebrate your birthday on the solstice, whether it is or not-” Another Osmosian thing “-and it’s bad luck to get married on your birthday.” Kevin blinked.

“Really?”

“Really.”

“Okaaay,” he took a deep breath, “and since when were you the superstitious sort?”

“Since now.”

There just, there were no words.

~~

In the end they settled on a Wednesday in August, which Mike swore backwards and forth was the best possible combination. More specifically one a few years in the coming.

Kevin had a grim suspicion that they’d need the time.

~~

“I’m sorry, let me rephrase, we will not, under any circumstances, be having a potluck wedding reception.” He was impossible, Kevin swore it.

“And why not?”

“It isn’t done.”

“It is by my family.”

“Your family can’t afford catering, or else it wouldn’t be.” Which wasn’t entirely wrong, but he would eat his own tongue before he admitted it.

“You don’t even like other people’s food,” he replied instead. “You can’t even taste it most of the time, half the pack has adjusted their recipes for you!” Mike just kept that easy ‘I’m right and you aren’t smart enough to know it’ look he got from time to time up on his face.

“So we’ll take that into account when we choose our caterer,” he said. “Maybe Indian food or something.

“Why though, when we can just as easily get family and friends to handle the whole thing, and not have to pay out the ass?” Heaving a sigh, Mike looked up at the kitchen ceiling like Kevin was the one being unreasonable.

“Because we can pay for someone else to do it and not have to worry ourselves and our guests. Plus, the food will look better.” It would’ve been very easy for Kevin to argue that nothing looked as good as Casey’s mutton ribs, except maybe the man across from him, but he didn’t. There were more important factors.

“And what about diet shit?” That got Mike to stop, gently setting his spoon back in his bowl. “Argit, Ken, and Pierce can’t have chocolate, Ben can’t be in the same room as peanuts, I can’t have anything that’s been in contact with strawberry and neither can a decent number of my relatives. If family’s doing the cooking I know I don’t have to worry about any of that, but all it takes is one person with only half a brain cell to fuck that up with outsiders.”

Mike went quiet, lips sinking into a frown and brow furrowing like maybe, just maybe, Kevin had a point. It was guaranteed the very thought would have him sulking until dessert. He closed his eyes and took, then released, a deep breath.

“I’d still rather get catering,” he said, quietly, “but if it would make you happy, then we’ll see about getting somebody we can pay enough to not pitch a fit if your family brings in food too.” Victory. A small victory, but still. Grinning like the Cheshire Cat, Kevin leaned over the table to plant a quick kiss on the corner of his mouth.

“Thanks, babe. Sounds like a plan.”

~~

They had three more arguments about venues before finally settling on one. Mike wanted elegant and upscale, someplace people would talk about. Kevin wanted homey and down-to-earth (and preferably cheap). In the end they’d settled on a middle ground, moving the wedding out of the county and to the Morningstar’s household in Italy.

Apparently, upon bringing his new wife and son over to the states, Greggory Morningstar had noted how she missed their homeland and had the house built for her so she could pick up and visit whenever she wished. He also apparently bought her a plane, and Kevin thought the whole thing as ridiculous as it was romantic. Michael just seemed too damn proud of his grandfather’s actions.

Proud enough he started a whole new argument by asking if Kevin wanted him to build him a house.

~~

“Why am I marrying into money, this is a horrible idea.”

“Because you’re a golddigger until the bitter end.”

“Fuck, you’re right.”

“Also I’m pretty.”

“That too.”

~~

Helen and Elena had wisely left the room fifteen minutes ago, and were probably continuing in their quest to help throw this wedding together so Mike didn’t drive himself mad and Kevin didn’t kill him.

Back in the dining room though, both men were on their feet, teeth bared and chins lowered, all but growling at each other.

They had been in this position for, you guessed it, fifteen minutes.

It turned out their ideas of décor, which had seemed to meld so well before when they were just leaving their marks on each other’s homes, were not surviving the wedding process. Again, Mike wanted flashy and elegant (tacky, he wanted tacky, why couldn’t he stop throwing money around for five minutes-) while Kevin wanted earthy and simple (cheap, neither of them were on the streets anymore they could afford to indulge in nice things-).

“Okay boys,” Helen said as she strode back in, ignoring the tension- she’d known these two since she was quite literally born, she was used to it- and dropping a small stack of books on the table between them, “Elena and I have figured something out. First off, we’ve decided on greys, golds, and blues for your colors. Shut up.” Both men closed their mouths before even getting the chance to speak. “They’re what look best on you both and you’d argue about it just to argue. Anyway, we’ve got a plan, we’re gonna handle it, we just need you boys to pick some flowers that’ll work.” She patted the stack, which a quick glance proved to be on the topic.

“We don’t care if you do them together or apart, just get us at least four to work off and don’t kill each other. I’ve already got a dress bought and I’m not wasting it because you’re stupid.” Neither of them answered, but when she rolled her eyes and left Kevin stuck his tongue out at her back.

If nothing else it made Mike bite back a laugh.

~~

They split the job. Mike chose daffodils and false indigo, which meant Kevin had to scrap his plan to choose daffodils. (He should’ve known anyway, given how fond Mike was of them.) Instead he went with irises and tulips, and if it was because the idea of tulips for a later summer wedding seemed so very Michael to him, well, it wasn’t like anyone was going to ask.

Thankfully, they all really worked surprisingly well together.

~~

“So,” Kevin asked one evening while they hung out on his couch, “what are we doing with your uncle?”

“What do you mean?” Mike didn’t take his eyes off his game, but his shoulders tensed under Kevin’s arm. He pulled it back enough to be able to massage one.

“Are we inviting him or- I mean I know you guys’ relationship is… weird, right now but…” ‘But everyone on the list so far is either a mutual friend or someone there for me.’ Mike was quiet for a moment, then paused his game.

“Do you think we should?” Kevin shrugged.

“I think I’d have to start shaming the Tennysons into not flipping their shit tomorrow if we do,” he said. “I mean their history with him is as bad as it is with me, possibly worse given I never tried to kill either of their moms.” Mike groaned under his breath. “But he’s your uncle, and if you want him there…” He shrugged again, but threw up a grin and nudged Mike’s shoulder.

“If you want him there, I’ll drag him to Italy myself if I have to.” Quietly chuckling, Mike leaned against him.

“I think,” he said slowly, like he was rolling the idea in his head, “I’m more likely to regret not inviting him someday than I am to regret inviting him. Besides, if anyone is going to go all out to celebrate my wedding, it’ll be him.” Kevin chuckled.

“Given he tried to kidnap you when we were three because he loved you so much, I’m not surprised.”

“Excuse me,” Mike replied, smiling, “he did not try to kidnap me. He succeeded in kidnapping me. And given how my stepmother turned out I don’t think he can be blamed.” There was no way Kevin could really argue there.

“Still, I’m glad our dads tracked you down. He really doesn’t sound like the type who should be raising children.”

“Oh fuck no,” Mike said. “Maybe he can come babysit on occasion, but we’re definitely not leaving our kids to him or anything.” Not that they’d ever really agreed to have kids (they’d agreed it seemed likely to happen at some point, given how Kevin’s family was, but not to have them specifically) but Kevin still nodded. It wasn’t a discussion for now.

“Oh no, we leave them to Argit.”

~~

After another four arguments Mike got permission to build Kevin a house up in New England, closer to his mother’s relatives. In return, two other Morningstar properties were being converted into a foster care center and housing for families traveling in pursuit of healthcare for mutant children.

Mike accepted the terms as soon as he got them.

~~

“Cookies, pie, or something else?”

“What?” Rolling out from under his car, Kevin looked up to see Mike standing there with one of the notepads he seemed to have an endless supply of lately.

“I assume you don’t want us to have a cake, so what do you think we should have instead? I want to say cookies but that seems…”

“Inelegant.” Kevin had been at this long enough at this point to hear that word ringing in his dreams anymore. Still, he smiled at Mike’s remembering how he felt about cake and sat up, crossing his arms over his legs. “You want pie then?”

“Unless you can think of something else. Croquembouche maybe. It would be traditional, but given how many children are likely to be at this I’d worry about it being damaged.”

“And pies won’t suffer from that,” Kevin chuckled.

“They’re not likely to topple over at any point.”

“They will if we stack them high enough.” His bright smile was met with a glower, which was really the goal with that one. Sometimes getting a rise out of Mike was fun.

“Don’t start, Kevin. I just want to know what you think.” Kevin took a minute the think it over, rising to his feet with a long stretch and stepping over to rest his head against Mike’s, ignoring the resultant complaints about mussing his hair.

“Order your pastry tower,” he said, “I’ll ask the fam to make pies and tarts and we’ll just, form a protective ring of them.” With a snorting laugh, Mike shook his head.

“Alright, sure.” He raised an eyebrow at Kevin in a way that might have been stern if he wasn’t smiling. “If this thing gets knocked over though-”

“You can skin me alive, I’ll deserve it.” Pressing a quick kiss to his lips, Kevin backed up. “Was that all you needed, babe?” Purring, Mike nodded.

“I think so, for now at least. Thank you, Daffodil.”

~~

“What do you mean ‘no’?! You’ve spent the past year and a half insisting this be the most posh, elegant wedding ever on the planet Earth and now you don’t want me in fucking formalwear?!” He was gonna kill him, right here in a tailor shop he was going to kill him.

“You look awkward,” Mike snapped by way of explanation, “and weird dressed like that, like someone put jeans on a swan! Just-” He stepped forward and began wrestling Kevin out of his outfit. “-take off the jacket- There! That looks right!” He didn’t look in the mirror. He refused. Over a year of fighting him, and losing half the time, on the topic of how elegant this whole affair should be and now, now Mike decided there was a line.

He was gonna kill him.

Even if it felt nice to lose the extra fabric around his neck.

“And what, pray tell, are you going to wear then?”

“The full suit, obviously.” Yep gonna kill him. “I look good in it and you…” Reaching out, Mike adjusted his collar and tie. Smoothed out the fabric over his chest and arms. “You look better like this.”

“Do I now?” Some old bit of Kevin’s brain swore that if this was some attempt to make him look unkempt, out of place, at his own damn wedding just to make his bastard shine more he would- Mike leaned in and kissed him.

“You look like you,” he said when he pulled away, then gave the outfit a critical eye. “We’ll just have to make up for the jacket with the jewelry.”

~~

Kevin stared into the velvet-lined box in his hands. There was just, everything in there. Earrings, noserings, cufflinks, if it was a piece of jewelry he could physically wear it was there. And white sapphires, the lot of it. (“I know how you feel about the diamond industry, Levin.”) He just, didn’t know what to say. He’d never legally held this many gemstones in his hands before. Forget hundreds, there had to be thousands of dollars’ worth of jewels there.

“Mike, I-”

“Kevin Ethan Levin-Jones, I swear if I get to the altar and you aren’t fucking sparkling with all this I am going to turn around and come right the fuck back home.” Oh. Well then. He chuckled and grinned up at him.

“Whatever you want, babe.”

~~

The coffeetable was littered with papers containing every possible combination of their first and last names. And relatives’ last names. And Mike’s clan name which it turned out didn’t work with anything. Because apparently the fates hated them.

“I’m telling you, ‘Kevin Morningstar’ works the best out of the lot.”

“Yeah but do I want to be associated with that level of wealth?” Mike looked at him askance.

“It’s not like we’re the fucking Bezos family.”

“Still.”

“Besides, you could get rid of that stupid pun. Honestly, I’m still pissed you didn’t get rid of it when you changed your name. Kevin E Levin, really, only you would make your name worse.”

“What can I say, I’m my father’s child.”

“You’re not making puns out of my children, you know.”

“We’ll see about that.” Shifting some papers, Kevin chewed the inside of his cheek. “‘Michael Levin-Jones’ doesn’t sound bad.” Mike groaned beside him.

“No, but it doesn’t sound as good as ‘Michael Morningstar’ does.”

“That’s just because of the alliteration. Besides, that way Argit wouldn’t have to kill me for changing my name after he legally snatched it up.”

“He can deal.” Kevin shook his head with a heavy sigh, dropping it onto Mike’s shoulder.

“We are going to be here forever,” he said, which only seemed to aggravate his fiancé.

“No, we are going to figure something out if I have to pull a name from a goddamn hat.”

~~

In the end, somehow, probably thanks to the girls, it turned out to be a nice wedding.

The house was lovely, large enough that family could take over the kitchens but not huge, with nice landscaping and a lovely view of the Mediterranean that they’d used as a backdrop for the ceremony and pictures. Kevin did feel more comfortable without the jacket and found himself unable to argue about clothing choices when Mike showed up in full formalwear, mostly because he was too busy alternating between staring and trying to discreetly swat Ben and Argit for laughing at him. The traitors.

The ceremony was as lovely as was to be expected given Kevin had puppy-eyed Zak into officiating and Mike had written half the damn thing. Multiple people had cried, including Kevin himself. The rings had been revealed, homemade by Kevin, at which point everything seemed to hit Mike and he nearly cried. They had to do the whole ‘you may kiss the groom’ thing twice, purely because Kevin couldn’t resist being a shit and littering Mike’s face with the kisses the first time, but they were both smiling after and Manny fell down laughing so nobody could really argue against it.

Besides, any embarrassment it may have caused Mike’s poor battered pride was overshadowed at the reception, when Mr Zomboni decided to make a toast and speech detailing some of the embarrassing things they both did as toddlers before bursting into tears again as how grown up his dear nephew was.

Was a lovely reception though, Helen and Elena outdid themselves. Everything in crystal and flowers, steel, gold, and chains. Elegant enough that Mike could bear to attend (cue eye roll) and mellow enough Kevin didn’t feel out of place at his own damn wedding. And the food was spectacular, even- Kevin hated to admit- the catered stuff, though he happily noted, aloud, that Mike ate more of the home cooking on offer.

After his bitching he was never living it down.

All in all it was, good.

Right.

Perfect.

~~

“Ya know,” Kevin said, quietly because they were both suffering from monster hangovers post-reception, “I’m just amazed we survived this long. I was sure we were going to kill each other.” With a tiny huff, Mike burrowed further into his side, face slotted against his collarbone.

“Couldn’t kill you,” he mumbled, “spent too much on that damn engagement ring to waste it.” Kevin snorted a quick laugh, flinching when his headache didn’t agree with it.

“Yeah, yeah,” he said, pressing a kiss to his hair, “love you too, Sparkles.” Mike huffed louder this time, throwing one arm over his face and around Kevin’s head as he mumbled something into his skin.

It sounded suspiciously similar to ‘love you more’.

#fanfic #levinstar #ben 10 #kevin levin #mike morningstar

[amnachil]

To the Perfection Chapter 1 Part 2

I’m very stupid :o I totally forgot to post the next part !! I’m sorry :( I hope you’ll like it anyway

Thomas Monday January 7

The last week of the holiday went and ended like a blur. Monday came. The end of the holidays. Thomas wasn't particulary sad about it. After all, he mostly stayed at home where he played video games. Of course, he had a very organized schedule for his training too. But well, he didn't want to be back at school either. He hadn't any difficulties and he had already studied more than enough. It was more a social problem. It would be false to say he didn't have friends, only they weren't real friends. They do like me. Because I'm smart, good-looking and Raphaël's brother. Nonetheless, he wasn't sure a single one of them knew his favorite game or his favorite movie. In the end, they liked his reputation more than anything else.

"Hi Thomas." greeted Ilhan. "You look good today."

"Thanks." smiled the ginger lad.

You don't even ask me how I am doing anymore, uh ? He had met Ilhan during last year, when this one moved in town from the south. At first, the newcomer was acting more friendly, more kind with Thomas. Now I guess he thinks someone like me can only be fine. They all think that way.

"I saw your brother on TV last week." continued his classmate, far away his thoughts. "He's so awesome. You're so lucky to be related."

Really ? Thomas liked his big brother, yes, but it was sometimes hard to live in his shadow. He had always tried to be nicer, kinder, and now he thought about it, it probably explained his whole personality. Anyway, Raphaël was still far better in everything. Even in love...

"Hey guys." intervened Cody.

Thomas barely looked at him. He joined his class, letting his mind ramble.

At noon, the young lad escorted some of his friends to the local Mcdo. According to them, it was to celebrate the end of the holidays. Most of them were soccer players, just like him. They were hanging together for years, but none of them knew how much he hated burgers. They just don't care at all. Once in the restaurant, Thomas quickly found a table and took a sit. He looked around, bored. The flavor made him sick. A new year eh... It started like the last. Well, except for Dan who was moving in. Only the idea of this made him shiver with pleasure. The two of us, alone at home... Around him, his friends were coming with their order, but he ignored their waffles. He looked foward to be wednesday, when his mother would leave. (Of course he was sad about her departure, but better watch the good side of it, right ?).

"Thomy, what do you think ?"

The ginger turned towards his friends, surprised to hear his name. They were all waiting for an answer to the question he didn't listen.

"Cody and Ilhan are convinced the little Ulrich will be the next captain of the team once we graduate." resumed his third fellow, Joël. "I say otherwise, he's too cocky, don't you think ?"

"Man, you're hella cocky and you're the supporting striker." retorted Ilhan.

The other smirked. He was tall (around 184 cm or 6'1") and definitely ripped. Joël was Thomas's partner for work out, so this explained that. Well, it's true he's arrogant.

"Still, little Ulrich is just... unfit for the role." he stated.

A waiter went to refill Cody's glass with coke. Thomas recognized an old friend of Raphaël, Sam. Back in highschool, he was an awful jock, a bit like Joël. But with my brother's control, he became what he truly wanted to be. A kinda fat young adult. At least, his personnality had softened along his body. The young teenager greeted him with a nod, and then focused bad on his friend's conversation. They were still arguing about this nonsense.

"Guys, it doesn't matter right now." he smiled. "We have to focus on our games until graduation, okay ?"

They all agreed. What a bunch of boot-lickers.

This evening, when Thomas arrived at home, his mother was waiting for him. She wanted to talk. The ginger smiled cheerfully and sat on the couch. Another unecessary discussion... He loved her, but as the others, she didn't know him very well. She always said he was "as perfect as Raphaël." Why people couldn't see past their resemblance ?

"I'm leaving in two days now..." she started. "I wanted to be sure you're okay with that ? I know this isn't what we planned, but your father and I think you're very capable..."

He could guess the rest. Like my brother, right ?

"...Like your brother. Anyway, tell me what do you think ?"

You won't like what I think. Hey mom, I'm totally gay and you will literally let me alone with my crush for almost five years. I hate your new shoes, by the way.

"Everything gonna be fine." he assured kindly. "I already know how to survive on my own, and Dan will be there with me. I know you miss dad, and I know you two want to be together as fast as possible."

His mother sighed, reassured. She was so predictable. Raphaël and him were free to do whatever they wanted for years now, since they knew how to manipulate her.

"I'll cook diner." he decided.

After all, he couldn't wait to see Dan eating his food.

Dan Wednesday January 9

"Looks like we got everything. I'm sure you'll feel like home quickly."

Dan smiled to Raphaël's mother. He had always be welcome in their house, it wouldn't be much of a change to move in. He looked at his "new" environment. His boyfriend had a wide bedroom, with a lot of full bookcases. Some old clothes were lying around. A portrait of them during Raphaël's departure party caught his attention. We're together for one year and more than seven months now. As long as he remembered, he had always been friend with Raphaël. When he had done his coming out, the soccer's genius had asked for a date. I was so surprised, back then. I would have never guessed he was on the same side.

"I know this is a selfish request." said suddenly Mrs. Muller. "But I really hope you'll watch over Thomas. He's so grown-up, it worries me sometimes. I mean, he's completely capable but... He's not even 17 yet."

"It's normal to be stressed but I'll be there all the time. I'm not going anywhere."

She nodded. It was easy to reassure her apparently.

"I hope he will relax a little, he looks so tensed..." she whispered. "Thomas is always taking things too seriously. He should learn some tips from Raphaël."

Dan made a face, a bit skeptical. Raphaël's definition of fun is very personal, to my humble opinion. Make the man genuinely smile was very hard, not to mention laugh.

"They must be waiting for us." Mrs. Muller stated. "Let's go."

All the family went to the bus station. She was going to New York, and then she would take a plane to England. A long trip, but she seemed almost glad to do it.

"My boys. You're both amazing, you know that ?" she said as a goodbye. "I love you. I'm really proud of you."

Thomas nodded silently. Raphaël did nothing but stare at her. I can only imagine how bizarre it must have been to educate these two...

"Raphaël, I'm sure you'll shine as the best center foward of our country." she smiled. "Also, I know you're still hesitating, but you should start this career in modelling. You're so handsome."

He didn't answer at all. Dan knew he wasn't approving this. He saw the little tautness of his jaw, the almost invisible twicthing of his fingers. And his eyes. They were so emotionless. He's too polite to say anything, but he's far from convinced.

"And you my dear Thomas." Mrs. Muller continued, far away these considerations. "You'll be as good as your brother, I'm sure of it. Try to have some fun okay ?"

He did his warmest smile.

"Of course mom. I love you too."

It was a different way to express his feelings, but it was just as much significant. He's also disappointed. But he'll not say it either. In this family, they weren't saying much. You had to read between the lines, to guess what they were thinking. An exercise Dan started to get used too. Anyway, their mother left after a last good bye. And they went back home.

This evening, probably to distract himself from his mother's departure, Thomas cooked another feast. According to Raphaël, he was always cooking a lot when he was troubled. Much for Dan pleasure, he was the one taking advantage of it. And boy, he cooks so well. Apparently, Thomas wasn't interested in a culinary's career, but he was so gifted for it.

"You enjoyed yourself." whispered Dan's boyfriend while stroking his distended stomach.

His rubs caused a slight series of belch. They were comfortably lying on their bed after this succulent diner.

"I can't resist a good meal." confessed the junior. "You know I have zero control over my eatings habits."

"Yeah, I noticed." chuckled Raphaël.

Slowly, he kissed his boyfriend with passion. I love him so much. People always said Raphaël was insensitive, but that was so not true. The ginger lad smoothly rolled over Dan and kissed him again.

"If Thomas doesn't stop, you will end up fat again. And I'm pretty sure he won't stop."

As he spoke, he fondled Dan's chest and belly. His touch was sensual, enjoyable. It feels so nice. Raphaël was more than appealing, and the junior was already getting aroused.

"I don't care about that." he replied. "Do you ?"

"Absolutely not."

Dan's hands found a way to Raphaël's ass. A firm and solid ass. His boyfriend unclothed them. Oh boy. I'm gonna love this night.

Raphaël left early in the morning, around 6 a.m. He would be gone for almost two weeks, until saturday 19th. Dan escorted him to his bus. It wasn't the first time they were separated for a long time, but it always felt bad. I miss him each time. But they would manage, they always did.

"I'll call you once I'm there." assured Raphaël. "And I'll relay my schedule to you."

"Sure thing."

Dan hugged him firmly. I want to have you a bit more.

"You'll look over Thomas, right ? I know he's acting weird since this case with Liam last year... I think he's more disturbed by this stuff than he pretends to be."

"You worry too much honey." reassured him Dan. "But I swear I'll take care of him."

It's only the third time you and your mother ask me to do it after all. The bus left five minutes later. The junior looked his boyfriend go away for a moment, gloomy. Then, he headed back home. Much to his surprise, Thomas was already awake. And he had made breakfast. A big breakfast. Well, what is the more worrying right now is how much weight I'll put on in only two weeks ?

To be continued

The setting is now finished. Let’s see if Thomas will be able to resist his desire with his crush... Especially when Dan has no problem with the feeding part at all ;)

#to the perfection #TP #Thomas #Dan #stuffing #feeder and feedee #weight gain #chapter 1 #part 2

[weelittleweasley]

What Are You Doing Here? | Sweet Pea x Reader

Prompt: After your parents divorce, you moved to Chicago, separated from your father and your brother, Archie. Not to mention, you had to leave your boyfriend, Sweet Pea behind. But when you come back to Riverdale, things change.

Request status: Closed!

Warnings: Profanity

Mary clung onto her daughter tight, wishing she didn’t have to let her baby girl go so soon. She was growing up too fast to let her go just yet. You laughed in hopes it would cover up your tears as you hugged your mother goodbye at the airport. “Mom, it’s okay. I’m gonna be with Dad. I promise I’ll visit as much as I can and you know that you can always come to visit me. Archie misses you a lot,” you hold onto her arms as she wipes away her tears. Your parents had separated and then had gone through divorce. Throughout it all, you had lived with your mother in Chicago while your brother, Archie, stayed back home with your father, Fred. It’s been a year since the divorce and you wished nothing more than to go home and graduate with your friends like you had originally planned on doing. Your mother was not fond of the idea--she wanted you to stay in Chicago with her like she had planned. But she knew how your heart longed for Riverdale, so eventually she gave in to your pleads and booked you a one way flight back home. 

Exhaling a shaky breath, Mary spoke, “You better call me everyday. I wanna hear how my baby girl is doing back home.” You nod your head as she plants kiss on your cheek. “You tell me when you are off the plane and then you tell me when you are home with your father and Archie. I don’t want to worry.”

You smile and squeeze her hands reassuringly. “I promise,” you tell her as she smiles back. Your flight is then announced for boarding as you hug your mother close once more before parting. “I love you, Mom. I’ll see you soon.”

Holding you in her arms, your mother makes sure she hugs you tight, not wanting to let go, knowing she must. “I love you, too. I’ll see you so soon. Give your brother a big hug for me.” Grabbing your backpack and suitcase, you head towards the gate, handing the attendant your boarding pass. You wave one last time, blowing your mom a kiss. “All my love!” she calls as you disappear into the plane. 

On the plane ride home, you listened to music, staring out of the window thinking about how excited you were to go back home. Archie and your dad would be waiting for you alongside Betty and her family. Just the thought of being reunited with your friends and family made your heart skip a beat. You, of course, talked to your dad and Archie all the time over the phone or through video chat and you would come to Riverdale maybe once a year for a weekend getaway. But now you were coming home and staying. A thought all too exciting. 

There was only one thing that made you hesitant about moving back and that was your previous relationship. Before you had moved to Chicago, you were in a long term relationship. It was frowned upon by Archie--him not being too content with the fact that you were dating a South Sider, a Serpent nonetheless. But you continued to date Sweet Pea, despite Archie’s discontent. You were crazy for Sweets, completely in love. But you had to move away to Chicago with your mom and there was no way a long distance relationship was going to work out between you two. The two of you couldn’t go two days without calling each other, begging the other to come home and come over. How would you two be able to survive? The memory of telling him you were leaving haunted you.

Knocking on his trailer door, you feel the pit in your stomach grow out of sheer anxiety. Biting your lip hard, you tried to suppress the tears. You were already a mess and you haven’t said one word to him. Sweets opened up the door, a smile on his face when he saw it was you. He kissed you softly as you took the time to relish in the kiss. This would be one of the last times you would be able to kiss those lips. “I didn’t know you were coming over, princess.”

Nervously brushing your hair out of your face, you speak, “Yeah, I have to talk to you, Pea. It’s important.” Pea’s heart starts to race as you lead him to the couch to sit. “I told you my parents are divorcing,” you hold his hands in yours. He shakes his head, asking you to elaborate. “Well, my parents have joint custody of me and Archie...” you start as Pea inhales, knowing where this is gonna go. “So, both of my parents decided where each of us is going to live and since Archie helps my dad out with his business...”

“Don’t finish that sentence,” Pea abruptly says as the tears start to pool in your eyes.

You whisper, “I’m moving to Chicago.” Sweet Pea looks away from you, unable to watch how heartbroken you looked. “I didn’t want this to happen, Pea. Trust me, I don’t make the decisions. The lawyers and my parents do.” Sweets stands up from the couch, walking around the living room, resting his hands on his head, taking deep breaths. “I’m so sorry.”

Sweets shakes his head, “And you couldn’t even at least try to fight for us? Try to tell them you wanted to stay?”

You become offended by his words. He was so quick to assume. “You didn’t think I fought with my parents for weeks on the situation? I did everything I could possibly do!”

“Not everything, apparently,” he sighs as you scoff. There is a pause before he speaks, “You knew that you were moving for a few weeks? And you didn’t tell me?” You look away, knowing that you were wrong for doing that. You shouldn’t have waited until a week before you left to tell him. “I could have helped you fight for us!”

Tears welling up more, you say, “Do you really think my family, especially my brother, let my Serpent boyfriend dictate my life?” 

Pea widens his eyes, “You really care so much about Archie? Fuck Archie! This isn’t about Archie, it’s about us! It’s about how we can overcome these obstacles! That’s what couples do!” You wipe away your tears. “But apparently you don’t give a shit about us that you are willing to throw what we’ve build for a whole year go away.”

“You damn well that is not true!” you yell at him, getting choked up. “I’m currently not speaking with Archie because I was fighting with him for weeks about how I should stay and he should go! But everything I do never seems to be enough.” Pea rolls his eyes, flopping down on a chair. “I don’t want what we’ve built to end. I love you and I want to be with you.”

He sighs, “You should have thought about that before you bought your ticket to leave for Chicago.” Your heart breaks and your bottom lip trembles at this words. “When do you leave?”

You don’t answer him. You sit in silence before he repeats the question, this time much more demanding. “Next Wednesday.”

“And you didn’t think you’d tell me until when?” he gets angry. “You thought you were just going leave me without any warning?”

Huffing, you start, “I was not. I was going to tell you. The reason I didn’t is because I didn’t want this to happen. I didn’t want to end on a bad note!”

Sweets laughs, “Well, look at where we are now,” he gestures between you two as you bite your lip. You couldn’t believe he was acting out like this. “You are so selfish,” he shakes his head.

Widening your eyes, you speak, “I’m selfish? Let’s not forget that before we dated you didn’t want to be with me because you wanted to ‘keep your options open.’” Sweets remains silent. “It was only when you saw me flirting with other guys when you wanted to have me all to yourself.” Sweets scoffs. “Oh, don’t give me that shit!” You take a deep breath before speaking, “If you really loved me, we would try to make this work. We would try to figure out how we are going to make us work.”

“I don’t think we can,” Pea stated. You widen your eyes and your heart shatters. “We can’t do long distance--don’t kid yourself.” Looking away from him, you pace the living room floor. “Y/N, you know we can’t be together anymore.” You look at him, searching his face for something. Anything. “I don’t want to let you go,” he speaks. “But I have to.” Letting a small sob escape your lips, covering your mouth immediately. “We have to be realistic for once, Y/N. We can’t let a farce go on.”

You turn away from him, closing your eyes as tears flow freely. You feel his arms embrace you as you give into his touch. “I’m sorry, Pea.”

He hushes you, “I’m sorry I lashed out. I know you tried, baby. I know you did.” You sob into his chest as he lets a few tears fall from his eyes. But he knew he had to be strong for you. “I love you. Forever and always.”

“I love you. Forever and always,” you say before he leans down to kiss you lips, urgently. You wrap your arms around him as he pulls you close, not wanting to let go. That night, you spent you last night with Sweets in his bed, his arms wrapped around your naked body as you cuddled into him. 

You knew that coming back to Riverdale was just going to resurface those memories, but you would do your best to suppress them like you did before.

You took a taxi from the airport to your house, tipping the driver before you ran to the front door, suitcase and bags in hand. Ringing the doorbell about five times, too impatient for your father or Archie to open it. You bust in the house, seeing Archie and your dad in the kitchen and living room respectively. “Honey, I’m home!” you tease as Archie runs to you, scooping you up in his arms as you giggle. 

Archie laughs, “I’m so happy you’re home!”

“Me, too,” you say before running into Fred’s arms. “Daddy!”

Your father laughs as you hold him tight. “Oh, honey, I’ve missed you,” he kisses your forehead. “How was the flight? Did you text your mother? You know she’s gonna be worried sick about you.”

Laughing, you speak, “Long and I did. She’s glad I’m safe.” You smile, squeeze your dad’s hand. “It feels so good to be home,” you breathe in.

“It’s good to have you home,” your dad kisses your cheek. “Arch, bring your sister’s things to her room.” Archie grabs your bags, bringing them to your old room. “Your room hasn’t changed since you left it. I didn’t wanna touch anything.” Your father was always too upset to go into your room. It would just make him sad to know you were gone. “Now, go unpack. I’m sure you have some catching up with friends to do.”

The rest of the day and the following few days, you spent them surrounded by your old friends, catching up. Being home was so nice and made your heart so full. Your friends had not changed--Betty was still dating Jughead, although now Betty had an older brother. Veronica and Archie were still PDA monkeys. But that’s the way you wanted it to be. Normal. But normal was unusual in Riverdale. As you sat on your bed with Betty, painting your finger nails, she asks, “So, does Sweet Pea know your back in town?”

The mention of his name makes your heart stop. “I haven’t talked to him or made any contact with any of his friends besides Jug since I’ve been here,” you inform her. “I don’t plan on making contact with him anytime soon.”

Betty sighs, “Oh, don’t be irrational, Y/N. I know break ups suck, but you’re hanging onto the past. You’re gonna have to face him. South Side and Riverdale High are one school now.” You widen your eyes. A lot has changed since you’ve been gone. “It’s time to talk to him. I bet he wants to hear from you.”

You shake your head, “It’s too soon, Betts. I’ll do it later.”

Meanwhile, at the Wyrm, Jughead sat at the bar, Toni behind it, manning the bar. Sweet Pea sat next to him, talking to Jughead. “Where’s Betty? I thought you were supposed to be with her tonight,” he speaks before sipping from his beer.

Jughead shrugs, “No, she wanted to spend time with Y/N tonight.” Sweet Pea almost spits his beer out in shock, asking him to repeat what he just said. “Betty is hanging out with Y/N at her house. Why?” Toni smacks Jughead’s arm. It then became apparent to the boy that Sweet Pea was unaware of your arrival. “Oh.”

“She’s home?” Sweet Pea asks, looking between Toni and Jughead as both of them remain silent. “Since when?” Jughead replies a weak since Tuesday. “And you didn’t bother to tell me?”

Jughead looks at Toni before she speaks, “We didn’t want to make you upset. We figured you would find out soon enough.” Sweet Pea rubs his temples, not being able to comprehend all of the information that was given to him in such a short amount of time. “Are you gonna talk to her?” 

Sweets shakes his head, “I don’t know if she wants to talk to me. Not after what happened.” Sweet Pea takes a final swig of his beer. “I’m gonna need a lot more of these,” he sighs before popped open a new one.

Back at your house, you eat some reheated pizza with Betty and Archie in the kitchen, chatting. Your father enters the room, stealing a piece of pizza. “Betty, you sleeping over?” Fred asks. Betty shakes her head with a smile as you rest your head on her shoulder. “Guess I’ll have to bust out the pancake batter tomorrow.”

The four of you laugh as the doorbell rings at your front door. “I’ll get it,” you run to the front door, leaving your slice of pizza behind. “Archie, you so much as look at my piece of pizza, I’ll kill you,” you tease as you open up the door a gasp coming out of your mouth. “Sweets, what are you doing here?”

Sweet Pea stands at your front door, smelling faintly of alcohol as you groan. He was intoxicated. That’s why he was here. “What am I doing here?” he laughs. “What are you doing here? You’re supposed to be in Chicago!” he holds out the ‘o’ in Chicago like a sing song. “But you’re back in Riverdale and you don’t even tell me,” he grasps his chest as if to act hurt before he chuckles. 

You look into the kitchen, hoping that your family or Betty wasn’t looking at what was going on in the next room. You hush him, “Keep it down!” Sweets laughs, biting his lip as he looks you up and down. “I didn’t think it was vital to let my ex-boyfriend know I was back in town.”

He shakes his head, “Are you seeing someone?”

“Y/N,” Archie calls as you hear his footsteps approaching. “Who is at the-why are you here?”

Groaning, you rub your temples. “This can’t be happening.”

To make matters worse, your father walks in behind Archie as Sweet Pea smiles bright. “Mr. Andrews! It’s been awhile. How have ya been? Archie, still the same grumpy troll you are,” Sweets chuckles as Archie tightens his fist. “I came over to see Y/N because a little birdie told me she was back in town!”

Archie steps forward, “If my sister wanted you to know she was back, she would have called you.” 

You push Archie’s chest back, “Arch, don’t start please. Not now. Not here.” He relaxes as your father looks at you, asking You got this? You nod your head as he escorts Archie back to the kitchen.

“What crawled into his pants?” Sweets asks loudly as you hush him, exiting your house, closing the door behind you. “Sorry,” he whispers as you fold your arms in front of you.

Sighing, you start, “Pea, I didn’t tell you I was coming home because I figure’d you didn’t want to know.” His eyes soften as he reaches out for your hand, but you quickly pull away. “We broke up for a reason. I thought that you would have moved on by now,” you confess.

He takes a step closer to you as your heart rate beats faster. Your eyes dart between his eyes and his lips, you desperately wanting to kiss him in that moment. It takes everything for you to hold back. “Y/N,” he sighs. “I promised to love you forever and always. I meant that.” Your heart flutter at his words and a blush creeps up onto your cheeks. 

“God, Pea, why do always do this to me?” you laugh, looking away from him.

But his hand reaches up to turn your attention back to you. “Do what?” he asks, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear.

You gulp, “You make me remember all of the reasons I fell in love with you.”

He smiles at your words as you lightly laugh. “I’m glad you remember,” he speaks. “But now,” he straightens himself out. “I’m not gonna leave until you agree to go on a date with me.”

You knew he was being excessive now as you roll your eyes, “Goodnight, Sweets.” Opening the door back up, you try to enter your home, but he stops you.

“I will actually stay here the whole night!” Sweets speaks. “Betty!” he sees Betty from the kitchen. “Betty, tell Y/N that I will actually stay here the whole night if she doesn’t go out on a date with me.”

Betty looks at you and then at Sweet Pea. “He will.”

Sweets looks at you now, a smirk on his face as you narrow your eyes on him. “I’m waiting, princess.”

With a groan, you say, “You pick me up tomorrow, sober, at seven.” Sweets smiles brightly. “Now, call Jug for a ride and go home.”

“No kiss goodnight?” he asks.

“Don’t push it,” Archie speaks for you from the kitchen.

You close the door, waving goodnight to Sweet Pea before turning to your family in the kitchen. Sending them a nervous smile, you say, “Where were we?”

#sweet pea #sweet pea imagine #sweet pea x reader #sweet pea x reader au #sweet pea au #sweet pea serpent #sweet pea serpent imagine #sweet pea fluff #sweet pea fluff imagine #southside serpents #southside serpents imagine #riverdale #riverdale imagines #riverdale au #riverdale cast

[anonwriter27]

Teen Spirit- Chapter Twelve :)

The Stark children were gathered in the living room, their parents still away. They were brain storming ideas on how to make Myrcella feel better; they even called Ygritte to join them.

Myrcella hadn’t been cold to them, she just hadn’t been herself. Everyone completely understood; after everything that had happened with Joffrey a few days ago, it was only naturally that she’d be upset.

She didn’t cry or shout, she was just quieter. There were times when Robb could see she wanted to laugh, like when Theon would make a dirty joke, but she would stop herself. It was as if she was scared, and Robb wanted to make her feel safe again.

“What about a party?” Bran asked.

“You know Cella, she doesn’t like all that attention.” Arya pointed out.

“Maybe a gift, to let her know we care.” Jon suggested.

“A gift sounds nice.” Sansa said, and that’s when a light bulb went off above Robb and Ygritte’s heads.

“Tommen!” They both yelled simultaneously.

“Who’s Tommen?” Rickon asked, the loud discussion waking him up from his nap.

Tommen was Myrcella’s little brother, and he was the perfect person to put a smile on Myrcella’s face. Robb knew she missed him terribly; they Skyped every Wednesday night, they would watch movies and eat ice cream during those calls but it wasn’t the same as being together.

“Tommen is Myrcella’s little brother.” Robb said and they all nodded in understanding.

“That’s a good idea. I know if I was sad I’d want my family.” Rickon said sleepily.

They all agreed that Tommen would be the perfect gift. So while Myrcella was out with her uncle, they called Tommen who within a few minutes was booking his train ticket for the next day.

……………

“We can go anywhere you like, I here this place around the corner does good seafood.” Tyrion offered.

“Sounds good.” Myrcella said with a smile, though her voice was meek.

“Or there’s a pizza place?”

“I like pizza.” She said.

Tyrion looked at his niece, ‘let me put you back together again,’ he thought.

They sat down at the pizza place, Tyrion ordering more food than they could possibly eat. He was worried about his niece, but he knew she would recover. Myrcella was strong, it was a quality she had inherited from her mother; people could try and tear her down, but a lioness would always rise again.

“I’m sorry.” She said quietly, just above a whisper.

Tyrion was brought out of his thoughts, “What on earth do you have to be sorry for?”

“For being like this. Everyone has been trying to cheer me up, you, Robb, Ygritte, Sansa…. I don’t mean to be a burden, I just….” She stopped and hesitated.

“Go on.” Tyrion encouraged.

“I don’t feel like me.” She confessed, “I feel like ever since I came here, I started to understand myself better, I could be myself.”

“And now?”

“Having Joffrey come back, doing what he always does, it just reminds me that I’m still his little play thing. No matter where I go, my past is still my past, I’m still…”

“A victim?” Tyrion offered sadly and she nodded in response.

“You know, when I was a child your mother hated me.” Tyrion said with a hint of mirth in his eyes.

“Pardon?” She asked, confused at the random direction the conversation had turned.

“Cersei and my father, they couldn’t look at me. They say now that I was being sensitive, but I knew what they thought. The woman he loved, the mother she adored, for the sake of me? That’s the biggest joke in the world.”

“Uncle Tyrion…” she wanted to argue but he wouldn’t let her.

“Being a dwarf didn’t help either I supposed, I was never going to be handsome like Jaime, I would never make marital connections like Cersei. I was a disappointment the moment I was born. Do you think I’m still a disappointment?” He asked.

“No! You’re the head of the family business and the best uncle a child could hope for! You could never be a disappointment.” She told him.

“And yet that’s what I was for the majority of my life. From a disappointment to a success.” He said with a smile on his face.

“You were a victim Myrcella, but now you are a survivor. Don’t hide from your past, wear it like armour.”

Myrcella began to understand what her uncle was saying, if she could survive Joffrey then she could survive anything. Why hide that?

“Thank you Uncle Tyrion.”

“It’s what I’m here for. Chocolate milkshake?” He asked.

“Chocolate milkshake.” She agreed happily, a genuine smile on her face.

…………….

Tyrion dropped Myrcella off at the Stark’s house after their meal. She had been staying there since the incident and Tyrion was glad, he didn’t like the idea of her going home to an empty flat.

“Hey! How was your day?” Robb asked but before she answered she wrapped her arms around his waist and rested her head on his chest.

He was quick to hug her back, “Everything okay?” He asked, concern laced in his words.

She looked up at him, “Everything’s great.” She said and shot him her beaming smile. It was infectious as it brought a smile to Robb’s face. ‘She’s back.” He thought.

They sat down to watch a film with their fellow Starks (including Ygritte and Theon, they were after all honorary Starks like Myrcella). They were in the middle of watching Pride when discussion turned to Myrcella’s hair.

She had gone to a hairdresser to have it cut properly, but she still didn’t feel right. She would see her friends with their long shiny hair and she’d be reminded of what her brother did to her own.

“What about extensions?” Sansa offered.

“The high end ones though! I hate the kind where you can see the glue.” Bran squirmed much to Jon’s amusement.

“I think you should shave half of it.” Ygritte said, “Get a tattoo there, it’ll be awesome.”

“I guess…” Myrcella said shyly.

As they discussed potential hairstyles, Arya could see Myrcella closing in on herself. She hated it, she remembered when Sansa had gotten a bruise on her left eye because of that bastard. She remembered watching her sister apply the concealer and wince at the pressure her finger would put on the bruise. No matter how many times it hurt her, she still put it on; she covered it up with make up so she could look as pretty as the other girls, so she could look ‘normal.’

It was only hair, it would grow back, but Arya knew that right now Myrcella didn’t feel ‘normal.’

“That’s it!” Arya yelled, threw her hands up in the air, and stormed out the room.

Everyone went silent, “What’s up with her?” Theon asked.

The next minute they heard the sound of a draw opening a closing, hard footsteps stomping up the stairs, and the bathroom door being slammed shut.

A few minutes past until they saw Arya again, she began to walk down the stairs and everyone turned and gasped when they saw her.

“Arya!” Sansa yelled.

Arya was stood with her hair cut above her shoulders, scissors in one hand, and the ponytail she had previously worn in the other.

“I like it.” Ygritte said.

“Me too.” Myrcella agreed with a wide smile.

“Our parents are going to kill you.” Bran said though he couldn’t hide his smile.

“They won’t notice.” She said nonchalantly.

“But you don’t look normal Ari!” Rickon said.

“It’s the new normal Rickon.” Arya said and plopped down in the seat next to Myrcella.

They continued to watch the movie, Myrcella feeling  more comfortable than she had before.

…………….

“Why are we awake at this ungodly hour.” Myrcella mumbled into her pillow (Yes her pillow, she’d be damned if she let Robb take it from her).

“I told you, we’re having a big family breakfast, Sansa is cooking and Bran is going to try and make something.” Robb said.

“But it’s 7:30 in the morning.”

“I promise you’re gonna love it.” He said kissing her shoulders.

“Yeah yeah.” She mumbled as she made her way to the bathroom.

She was in the shower when Bran knocked on the door.

“All systems are go.” Bran whisked, his eyes looking around making sure no one could hear of their plan.

“This isn’t Mission Impossible Bran.” Robb chuckled.

“Come on Robb… just go along with it, okay?” Bran whined, and Robb gave in.”

“Fine, everything ready?”

“The cuckoo is in the birds nests.” Bran whispered.

“I don’t even no what that means, I’m assuming everything is ready.” Robb sighed.

“Affirmative.” Bran nodded and made his way downstairs.

Robb and Myrcella made their way downstairs and joined the rest of the Starks at the dinner table.

“I thought you said there would be breakfast?” Myrcella asked confused.

“It’s on its way.” Robb assured.

They began talking when their waiter made his entrance.

“Eggs royale For Miss Baratheon.” They heard.

Myrcella turned in her chair to see the same green eyes looking back at her.

“Tommen!!!” She jumped up, knocking the plate of eggs out of his hands, much to Greywind’s delight.

“It’s good to see you too sis.” He said hugging her back.

It was a heartwarming scene, Myrcella with a brother that truly cared for her. Between, the Starks, Tyrion, and Tommen, Robb knew she would be okay.

They went for a walk, just the two Baratheon’s, intent on catching up on what they’d missed.

“You’ve gotten taller.” She said, noting how he was a head taller than her now.

“Haha yeah, not sure you can call me ‘little’ brother anymore.” He chuckled.

“You’ll always be my little brother Tom.” She said.

They walked on in silence for a little while but something was on Tommen’s mind.

“I’m sorry Cella.” He said.

“What for?”

“I’m not a kid anymore, I should have protected you from him. I should have come to the North, I should have tried more, I should have….”

“You should have thrown on a cape and called yourself superman?” She joked.

“I’m serious Cella.”

“You can’t reason with the irrational Tom. Joffrey is unpredictable, always has been. You couldn’t have stopped him.”

Tommen listened but he didn’t look convinced.

“I’m fine. Look at me, I have a good life here, I’m happy.”

“I’m guessing a certain Stark has something to do with that.” Tommen said with a smirk.

“He’s wonderful.” She said wistfully.

“I can see that. Any guy that can make my sister smile like that is okay by me.” Tommen said, assuring her that Robb had his approval.

“So… is Sansa single?” He asked and Myrcella shoved him playfully, both erupting in laughter.

……………

“Tommen should come visit more, he’s a good guy.” Robb said.

“He thinks the same about you.” She said, happy that the men in her life got along.

“Robb?” She said.

“Yeah?”

“I love you so much.” She said, her cheeks turning a dark shade of red. “Everything you’ve done for me… I can’t begin to thank you…”

Robb walked up to her and cupped her face in his hands,  “You don’t have to thank me Myrcella, it’s just what you do for the people you love.”

He kissed her deeply, letting their happiness wash over them.

#robbcella #robb x myrcella #Robb Stark #Myrcella Baratheon #jon x ygritte #Sansa Stark #Arya Stark #bran stark #rickon stark #Tyrion Lannister #Theon Greyjoy #Tommen Baratheon #game of thrones #modernAU #anonwriter27

[kelmcdonald]

Gonna Live Stream on Wednesdays

New Post has been published on https://kelmcdonald.com/news/gonna-live-stream-on-wednesdays/

Gonna Live Stream on Wednesdays

This is crossposted with my newsletter 

Hello all! I hope you are safe and healthy. 

This month I’ve been playing catch up on things that fell to the wayside because of the pandemic. I’m also figuring out what to do since all the cons are canceled for the year. Well, not all of them just yet but San Diego Comic Con was canceled. So I think it’s just a matter of time until ECCC’s rescheduled date and all the August cons are canceled. Then probably the September ones too. So I’m rethinking what to do with the rest of the year. 

I mentioned last month that I was planning to kickstarter Murky Water (next The City Between book) in September. But I’m debating on if that is a good idea. Partly because I got a lot on my plate. Right now I have:

3 different Cautionary Fable books in various stages of editing

 some freelance editing jobs for Iron Circus Comics

I’m starting drawing You are the Chosen One

I need to color and letter a book I’m doing with my pal Jose Pimienta called Stars Hide Your Fire

I’m drawing Murky Water

Cleaning up a pitch package to send to publishers for an untitled sci fi book

Several commissions like this one.   

The idea was to do Murky Water first so I would have a new book in 2021. But with all the 2020 cons canceled, that means most shows never saw The Dead Deception. It is probably safe to skip having a new book in 2021. Also, when I started The City Between, I was doing two experiments business wise. Basically, all of them have been print only first, then gone up online. The idea was if someone was impatient for an update they could buy the book or PDF. It mostly worked, but I think at the expense of my patreon. I handicapped one of the easier patreon rewards a webcomic can do, reading pages early. Anyone who was only backing to get pages early, probably just bought the book. That, plus it being safe to not have a new book, and my workload being kinda heavy means now is a good time to switch back to web first. But I’ll decide closer to the end of the year.   

But speaking of Jose Pimienta and our book Stars Hide Your Fire, him and I have decided to start streaming weekly on twitch. We will be around Wednesday at noon PST. We did our first two already. The first is mostly a sound test and isn’t much to share, but the second I’m drawing the commission I showed part of above while Jose and I talk about tv, anime, and musicals. Twitch is set to save them for about two weeks before they get deleted. If people really like them, we’ll start saving them to Youtube. 

One of the things we talked about is Love Never Dies. It’s a musical and a sequel to Phantom of the Opera. Each weekend Andrew Llyod Webber is posting a different one of his musicals free on youtube for just the weekend. Last weekend was Love Never Dies. The plot is the Phantom survived and escaped the mob at the end of Phantom. He started a very successful freak show on Coney Island. Now it’s 10 years later and the Phantom wants to show Christine how cool and awesome he is now and that she should have stayed with him. It is kinda a trainwreck. And was written right after Andrew Llyod Webber got divorced from the actress who originally played Christine in Phantom. I watched it in sync with a few friends while we were all in a discord chat. It was the quarantine version of getting drunk and watching a bad movie together.    

After watching that very bad musical, I decided to watch a musical I heard was good. That is The Death Note Musical. This is a musical I had already heard the soundtrack to because my good friend Molly told me about it a few years ago. I recently learned it’s on youtube. The Death Note musical has a fun development backstory. Molly told me about it because I rather like the Jekyll and Hyde Musical. The composer of the Jekyll and Hyde musical was hired to write a Death Note Musical even though he didn’t speak Japanese and didn’t know anything about Death Note. So he wrote the whole musical in English, recorded a concept album, then sent that to Japan to be translated into Japanese before it was performed. Anyway, both the concept album and the musical are on youtube. The above picture is a shot to show off how they show people’s lifespans on stage. An effect I thought was cool.  

 Other than watching a bunch of musicals, I’ve been relistening to the audiobooks of the October Daye series by Seanan McGuire. If you are unfamiliar, October Daye is a half-fairy detective who works on fairy crimes. It’s got an awesome cast of characters and puts a lot of thought into how folklore would interact/clash with the modern world. I highly recommend this series as well as anything written by Seanan McGuire.

 That about sums up my month. I want to end by once again thanking everything for backing my Patreon right now. With cons continuously getting canceled money has been tight, but I’m doing okay mostly because of your support and orders in the store. 

#newsletter