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billythenightguard · 5 months

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Run Away: Detention (2011) & FNAF Movie Crossiver - Chapter 4

Masterlist

Mentions: weed

Word Count: 985

Warnings: hurt/comfort (?)

Older!Clapton/Mike x GN!Reader

You drove to the Pizzeria in silence, Abby buckled into the back of your car, already asleep again in her school clothes, you couldn’t blame her. “Hi, can I get a number 4 with black coffee, a number 2 with an iced caramel latte, and a homestyle breakfast with milk please?” You asked the speaker box of the McDonald’s, ordering enough food for you and the Schmidt siblings.

“Abby,” you softly shook her awake, having now arrived to Freddy’s, “let’s go eat breakfast with Mike.” You carefully picked her up, holding her with one arm as the other held the bag of food, Mike, unfortunately for you, was too busy listening to his old mixtape, softly singing along, luckily it wasn’t hard to get the door open, a smile on your lips as you heard your cassette playing in the security room, creeping into the room quietly, but seeing him singing brought back memories.

“Clapton, oh my god!” You exclaimed from the passenger seat of his dad’s old Beamer, laughing as he sang along loudly to “F**kin’ Perfect” on the radio.

“Pretty, pretty please, don't you ever, ever feel like you're less than fuckin' perfect. Pretty, pretty please, if you ever, ever feel like you're nothing, you're fuckin' perfect to me.” He sang, looking at you out of the corner of his eyes, focusing on the road.

“Okay, okay!” You exclaimed in a fit of giggles.

“Say it,” he said, a cocky grin on his face.

“No-”

“Okay, I’ll keep singing,” he made a mock face of offense when you had smacked his arm.

“Okay! Okay! I’m perfect!” You squealed, he could certainly sing well, but not when he was teasing you. More focused on making you laugh rather than sounding good.

“There we go, firecracker!” He laughed alongside you. Pulling into the good 7-11, the one with the always working slurpee machines. “Come on, my treat, anything you want.”

“Anything?” You teased, giving him doe eyes.

“Still no weed.”

“Awh! No fair!”

“You can have some on your 16th birthday, just like I did.” He said sternly, ruffling your hair.

“But that’s so far.” You groaned as you two walked into the 7-11, both of you grabbing your snacks and slurpees.

“Not like I’m going anywhere anytime soon,” he said, “best friends for life right?” You looked over to Clapton and nodded, leaning into him when he wrapped his arm around your shoulders.

Mike’s yelp and a crash brought you out of your daydream. “Shit! Mike, I’m so sorry!” You carefully set Abby, who has woken up now, and the food down. Offering your hand to Mike who was now on the ground.

“You startled me,” he laughed, “I didn’t hear you two come in.” He took your hand, hoisting himself up with your help.

“I didn’t know if you were sleeping.” You said with a slight blush. “I stopped and got us all breakfast.”

“Sleep- you’ve caught me sleeping on the job… great.” He laughed at himself, shaking his head.

“Hey, I’m not blaming you,” you quickly reassured him. “You work nights, you deserve to sleep a couple of hours, I don’t know who would even try to break into here anyways.” You chuckled, handing him the food you had gotten him, along with the black coffee, setting Abby up to eat her breakfast. He couldn’t help but to admire you, looking down for a second, he wished you two were back in Grizzly Lake, where he was the one taking care of you. You were something Ione hated, but Clapton/Mike never cared, he was always there for you, always at your call.

“They remind me of the best friend you talked about when I was littler.” Abby said to Mike when they were in the car alone, the three of you having had your breakfast and now it was time to get Abby to school. Mike tensed, though, looking back at Abby through the mirror, she remembered those stories? Has she told you?

“Yeah, they kind of do.” He said, trying to seem nonchalant as he pulled out of the pizzeria parking lot and onto the highway.

“I wonder if they have any cool stories about their best friend!” Abby giggled, unaware of just how much stress she was adding onto the man, he couldn’t let Abby tell you. Not yet. Not before he did.

With Abby at school, and you at work, Mike was bored. The dishes of last night’s dinner were cleaned already, minus a plate in the microwave left for him. He noticed it seemed as though you did some grocery shopping for him. He was about to text you and scold you, and insist you take some payment before he remembered your first babysitting gig at 12.

“Clapton, come on!” You pulled him into the grocery store.

“Dude, they probably have food!” He insisted, not understanding why you were trying to buy your own groceries to cook with.

“They might be like my mom, where everything down to the last tablespoon of salt has a plan.” Clapton flinched slightly at that, he liked your parents, he had no choice, they created his perfect best friend. But your mom tended to be a bit strict, and he noticed it would affect you in ways it shouldn’t.

“Alright, alright. But I’m buying, you can pay me back after babysitting gig number five.”

“Deal!” He never took a payment from you, for the next two years he would constantly help you buy your groceries before you’d go babysit.

Mike didn’t know when he started crying, sitting on the edge of his bed with a polaroid in his hand, his other hand moving to his face and wiping away the wetness on his cheeks. You never left his mind, and even now, having you so close was still too far. He watched and read the news as much as he could, Sander Sanderson was still unfound. Still out there. And to Mike, still a threat.

Tag List: @na-is-salty @thegirlwholoveslivesfanfiction @dessxoxsworld @mad-die45 @cancelledkaley @mschmidt

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queer-cosette · 6 months

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You guys really liked that last Cursed Coco Lore poll so...

This time all of these are true. I want you to decide which one's the most horrible.

*not for murdery reasons. I would SPAG-check her handwritten english essays and then going forward thought it would be funny to write fake reminders on her calendar in her own handwriting. It was. For me. Not so much for her.

#coco speaks #coco polls #cursed coco lore #heathers 1988 #heathers the musical

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harrywavycurly · 2 years

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What’s a night like with Eddie and Friday? I see myself as her ❤️

Hiii babes!!! Ohhh I LOOOVVEEE that you see yourself as Friday she is so fun!!! 💖

*reminder Friday is the “fun” wife so she’s very bubbly and happy*

Eddie smiles as he walks in your front door just to see you dancing around the living room too caught up in the song to notice him. He quietly shrugs off his jacket and hangs it on the hook by the door where you hang your keys making sure he doesn’t disturb you, not yet at least. He leans against the wall with his arms crossed over his chest as you spin around making your hair fly all over the place as Eddie just chuckles and shakes his head.

“Baby!” You squeal as you brush your hair out of your face and see Eddie smiling at you. “Come dance with me.” You rush over to him and grab his hand dragging him into the middle of the living room. “I love this song.” You mumble into his chest as you wrap your arms firmly around his middle while his hands rest on your hips.

“You say that about every song.” He teases before leaning down and placing a kiss to the top of your head as you slowly begun swaying back and forth, your sad attempt at slow dancing with him to the pop tuned love song. “How was my Princess’s day hmm?” You smile as his hands give your hips a little squeeze.

“It was good,” You tilt your head so your chin is resting on his chest so you can look up at him. “Tuesday and I had a water fight while we washed Wayne’s truck. I totally won and then I went to the seven eleven and got a slurpee.” Eddie couldn’t fight the grin that took over his face as you told him about your day, out of all of his wives you were always the one that had the most random events to fill him in on when he saw you.

“Sounds like a good day.” You just shrug as Eddie looks down at you and he can tell what you want by the way your eyes flicker down to look at his lips. “Need something princess?” You roll your eyes as your arms move from being wrapped around his middle so you can cup his face in your hands.

“Don’t be mean.” You whine making him chuckle as he leans down and places a kiss to your lips, you smile as he pulls away but you don’t let him get too far before you pull him down for another one.

“You taste like cherries.” He mumbles against your lips before he pulls away making you smile. You drop your hands from his face so you can wrap your arms around his torso. “I missed you.” He whispers as you rest your cheek on his chest as he continues to sway you to the beat of the song.

“I missed you too.” You admit as his arms snake around your waist, pulling you closer to him. “Want to hear something weird?” You ask and Eddie just hums his response as one of his hands runs up and down your spine. “I’m in love with a man who can’t dance. Isn’t that weird since I love to dance?” Eddie just laughs and rests his chin on the top of your head.

“Not as weird as me being in love with a girl who has shitty taste in music. Ya know since music is my thing and all.” It’s your turn to laugh making Eddie smile because your laugh is one of his all time favorite sounds. He loves that you’re goofy and silly with him, he knows that for the most part you’re his little ray of sunshine that’s always there for him when he needs to feel better after a long week even if it means he’s going to find himself standing in the living room dancing around to upbeat pop music.💖

#eddie munson monday #multiple wives!eddie #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson concept #Eddie munson #my little dungeon master baby #Friday wife

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screwtoddstevesherdaddynow · 2 years

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Chapter 5: “Caught Off Guard”

Chapter 5 includes fluffy moments and the confession of feelings in a non traditional way. Like they don’t flat out say hey I like you. Please enjoy, I was putting a lot of thought into and wanted to make sure it was just right. Sorry if it’s short!

Traveling from Lovers Lake to town was nothing short of a good time. Eddie and I had continued to talk like we had back at the lake. It was natural, like we’d been friends since God only knows. I noticed as he spoke, he used his hands. Sort of like telling a specific story. He still made sure to keep one hand on the wheel as he drove. There was more to him than just leather and long hair. Oh god that hair. I bit my lip trying to push the thoughts away. He must’ve took notice.

“Rosie, are you good?” Eddie was concerned. Still keeping his eyes on the road.

“Yeah, Eddie can I ask you something?” I started to let words spill from my mouth. It’s like a crack in a dam slowly seeping. He raised his brow.

“Go on.” He nodded, ready for me to continue.

“Why me?” I looked over in his direction. The dam broke. “Why did you just stand there when I yelled at you about running me over? Why did you help me when your lunch spilled…”

“Look can I level with you?” He interrupted my continuous questioning. I nodded like he had before. “Sometimes things happen and you’re caught off guard. Sometimes those things that happen, is a girl who calls you out and flips you the bird when you almost ran her over. Sometimes the thing is a girl who wears your shirt and looks so good in it, you’re lost for words. Which is funny for someone who writes music. And sometimes it’s the girl who you see standing in the rain, asking for a ride home.”

“And sometimes it’s the guy who you barely knew all through school, who everyone called a freak. When in reality he’s not. He’s actually pretty awesome.” I smiled looking down at my lap. Tucked my hair behind my ear and felt my cheeks warm up with color. I peeked over towards him and he had sort of a smirk on his face. Eddie reached his free hand over and grabbed mine. His fingers interlocking into mine. Talk about being caught off guard. I gave him a questionable look.

“What?” Eddie was sort of confused. He still held onto my hand. Quickly glancing at me.

“We are holding hands. Not to sound immature .” Quickly regretting what I said.

“Is that bad?” He asked refocusing his eyes on the road.

“No it’s nice, just didn’t expect it.” I gave his hand a little squeeze and my smile came back to my face.

“Well like I said, caught off guard.” He chuckled as he reminded me of his previous point. I relaxed more in my seat and never left his hand go. My stomach filling with butterflies. Oh dear lord, I’m a puddle of human emotions.

Once we had gotten to town, we stopped at the 7/Eleven. Both of us sharing a love for the greasy and disgusting gas station hot dogs. Something I always craved when I was feeling excited. My dad was the one who had gotten me hooked on them. Those and cherry slurpees. We sat in the back of his van with the doors wide open eating our food. Talking in between bites, laughing at what the other said. Eddie kept making this night better. Thanking my lucky stars that he kept showing up like he was. Knowing what he had said earlier, was confirmation that he did maybe have feelings. And those feelings were for me.

With the Sun being peacefully tucked away at night, the spring chill came to life. I was beginning to feel the coolness as I shivered. Eddie had took notice and grabbed my blanket from my backpack. It wasn’t the biggest, but it was enough for him to wrap us both in it. Sitting closer to, after scooting over. I leaned into him a little bit, my body doing these actions without a thought. Like it was meant to happen. Feeling his warmth radiating from his body. Rested my head on his shoulder in the crook of his neck. My nostrils were welcomed with the scent of cologne and used cigarettes. It was comforting. I closed my eyes and left myself relax more. There was nothing that could ruin this moment. Or so I had thought…

“Rosie?!” I heard a familiar voice yell to us, a few feet from where Eddie and were parked. My eyes opened quickly in shock. It was Steve. Had a disappointed look on his face.

“Oh my god, no.” I groaned under my breath. I quickly shot up from my seat when I noticed Steve was walking towards us.

“Harrington, to what do we owe the pleasure?” Eddie said with a polite but yet very sarcastic tone.

“Can it Munson.” Steve’s brow furrowed. “Rosie c’mon, let’s go.”

Looking down, I collect my things quietly. I waved goodbye to Eddie and grabbed my bike from his van. Thankful he had remembered it when walking from the lake. I wheeled it over to Steve’s car and looked over my shoulder once more. Eddie had a smirk on his face like he was hiding something. Unsure of what it may be. Hell, he looked handsome though.

Sitting in Steve’s passenger seat, I hooked my seatbelt in and stayed quiet. Steve stated his car with the keys in the ignition. Speeding away from the parking lot. It had been a quiet ride home. Steve clenching his fists on the steering well. My butterflies turning into nausea. Simply due to the fact my brother ruined what was an awesome night. He didn’t mention anything until we had gotten home. As soon as we got through the door, he began the interrogation.

“What were you doing with Eddie?” Steve’s voice, mature and firm, still sounded upset.

“He’s not bad. I don’t know why people hate him.” I shrugged and turned my chair around. “Besides, I thought you guys were okay since the earthquake?”

“Yeah well things change.” Steve folded his arms and leaned against the wall. “He’s dating my little sister, excuse me for not being properly excited.”

“We aren’t dating, yet.” Protesting back to Steve.

“Yet, really? Jesus Rosie. He’s not what you think.” Steve sounded protective, but ignorant too.

“Steve, please just leave me alone. I’m going to bed. I’m not gonna stand here and fight you.” I turned and ran up the stairs to my room.

“We aren’t done with this.” Steve shouted up the hall. Rolled my eyes as he spoke and opened my door.

When I was upstairs in my room, I sat on my bed holding my knees tight to my chest. Steve was wrong. Eddie wasn’t bad at all. He was sweet. Thinking to myself, I pulled my sketch pad from my backpack to look back at my picture from earlier today. It was the sketch of him and I in his van from this morning. I looked it over with a stupid grin and seen in the corner someone scribbled something.

“Rosie, call me sometime.”

The scribble that was there, I assumed to be Eddie’s handwriting. There was that message, accompanied by a phone number. Eddie gave me his number and there I sat on my bed, debating with my brain and heart to keep it or call him. Was he expecting a call? Was I to call him this late? So many questions but not enough time to answer each one. I picked up the phone on my bedside table and dialed his number.

“Hello? It’s Rosie.” I softly said into the phone.

#fan fiction #stranger things #eddie munson #eddie stranger things #love #stranger things 4 #eddie munson stranger things #steve harrington #stranger things fanfiction #why can’t this be love #eddie x fem harrington sibling #eddie munson x original female character #eddie munson x oc #eddie munson x original character #eddie munson x female original character

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murderslugs · 3 years

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Getting To Know Them || Slasher x Reader Bf/Gf Scenarios Pt 2

Jason Voorhees

When you woke, you were lying in a dim living room. The windows were boarded with thick, rotting oak planks and the doors were bolted shut. The only light left to illuminate the room was a small lamp on the old, rustic coffee table in front of you. Beneath you was a somewhat scratchy couch, clearly taken off of someone's front line with a paper labeled "free to take" on it, or from some dump. However, you were thankful that it at least wasn't the creaky wooden floor instead. You scratched at the rope around your wrists, loosened from being wriggled around and messed with.

You sat up and allowed your vision to re-adjust, and saw the same man in flannel and ski-mask in an arm-chair on the other side of the coffee table. He didn't seem to notice your awakening, or he at least didn't acknowledge it. He was reading a book with a maroon cover, and you couldn't make out the small copper-shaded title. You studied his movement. He was calm and showed little emotion in his body language, simply reading in peace.

In a split second, you decided to break the peace and silence. "Who are you?" The man put down the book in his lap, but only looked up at you for a moment, silent. You could see him think, then make a few hand gestures. You came to the realization that it was ASL, but you never really learned the language, despite your interest in it. You saw him take a deep breath and get up, grabbing a pen and a notebook off a table to the side. He slid the items onto the coffee table before you and slowly unbound your wrists. You wrote your question out again, "Who are you?" and slid it around for him to see. He read it, and wrote quickly, in slightly messy handwriting, "Jason. any more questions?" and slid the items back.

From here, you two went on for hours, listing out questions on the notebook and answering them for each other. You filled out pages and pages, ranging from basic questions to things like "what was your childhood like?" Certain things like that, he would pause and then write that he didn't want to talk about it. Through the night or day (due to the lack of natural light, it was hard to tell,) this game went on.

Michael Myers

Though you tried your best and struggled and squirmed, the man who had taken you still had gotten you tied to a chair; where you sat with a belt tying your wrists to the wooden beams, thankfully with a cushion underneath your rear. You shut your eyes for a second and groaned, throwing your head back. You always thought of yourself as strong and independent, a fighter who didn't need help from anyone. Alas, this was one ass you couldn't kick, and you hated yourself for it.

Across the kitchen, the bright lights shined on the tiled floor, and a tea kettle whistled ceaselessly. The sound of running water stopped as the man who had taken you walked from the bathroom and into the kitchen. The man dried his hands on his pants and took the kettle off the burner, shutting the flames off. You observed him take two random mugs from the cabinets above, and place them on the white countertop. He carefully poured the tea into the two cups, and a light herbal smell filled the air. After a moment, you recognized the smell of hibiscus tea. This was a familiar smell, something your aunt made every morning when you spent the night at her house in the summers between school years.

The man walked over and brought the two cups with him. A low, slightly muffled, silky voice came from behind the mask as he slid a mug across the table to you. "Careful, it's scolding." The tall, built man walked across and unbuckled one of your arms from the chair for you to pick up the mug with. "Drink." He said, before taking a seat before you. This is when he slid the mask off, to reveal a face beneath that you never would have expected. Dark brown, shaggy, messy, wavy hair fell over his forehead, and he blew it out of his grey eyes. His face was scarred and his lips were chapped, but it somehow wasn't unappealing or revolting.

"What's your name? Who the fuck are you?" You asked, leaning as far as you could with your restraints still intact. The man pushed his hair back and sighed heavily, sipping the near boiling tea. "Michael. 24. Libra." He said in a monotone voice. You rolled your eyes. "This is an introduction to your victim, not The Dating Game." You told him harshly. "Well, is there something specific you wanna know? It's not like your giving me anything to go off of, sugar cube." 'Michael' replied with the same energy in return. "Fine. I'm (Y/N). What else is there to say?"

Carrie White

Like the pale girl suggested, Carrie if you remembered correctly, you came back to the public library next Sunday, around noon. You had finished the book you had most recently checked out, so you had to return it anyways. Walking down the pavement, you saw here in a light sundress, walking up the few steps and into the library. You ran to catch up and followed her, careful not to startle the girl. As soon as you got inside, you carried yourself to just behind her, and tapped on her shoulder.

The girl turned around, and a look of confusion appeared on her features. "(Y/N). We met here last week? I suggested you check out Narnia." You reminded her, an eager smile painted on your face. A spark formed in her eyes, and she returned your smile. "Oh! Yes, yes, I remember. I'm sorry, my mind is awfully clouded lately." You assured her that it was alright, and you two went along.

The two of you walked down the aisles of bookshelves, and she looked for something new to try out. Maybe she would check out a cook-book and try a new recipe, or read up on WW1. Although, you DID notice that she avoided the religious aisle. However, you didn't comment on this, out of respect. You two checked out a few books, and on the paved outdoor steps, you stopped her. "Would you like to go for coffee or tea? Even a pastry? There's a little shop down the street, I'll buy. I'd just like to talk a bit.

Carrie obliged happily, and the two of you took your books and walked down to the small cafe. It had a dim, rustic theme, and brought peace to anyone who entered it's walls. There was a faint vanilla sent in the air, welcoming you two. For about an hour, Carrie sat down with you and talked about your life, your week, basic things. It was nice to get to know her. She seemed kind, and gentle. Everything about her was graceful, from the way she sipped her latte to the way she tucked her strawberry blonde hair behind her ear. As you two finished up your chats, you grabbed your things and greeted each other farewell, agreeing to meet again next week.

Jennifer Check

The pair of you had become half-decent lab partners over the last few weeks, but she didn't seem to be doing well with the subject. As a result, you decided that you would volunteer to tutor her in the subject after school. So, there you were, on your way to her house after school to hang out and help her study up on the subject and with the homework. It was a cloudy day, and you could tell that a storm was brewing in those clouds above your head. Because of this, you decided to walk a bit faster to avoid being soaked.

As you arrived at Jennifer's house, you knocked gently on the door. When you received no answer, you hesitantly knocked harder. Very suddenly, a slightly older woman answered the door, assumingly Jennifer's mom. The woman looked you up and down, then quickly turned to yell over her shoulder, "Jenny! Your new friend is here!" She then quickly invited you in and brought you a small tray of white-chocolate macadamia nut cookies, offering you to take one or two ((If you have an allergy to nuts, then M&M cookies.)) "I made these for you two while you were studying. There's also sodas in the fridge in case you need a drink." Jennifer's mom said joyfully, before scooping the strap of a purse onto her shoulder. "I'll be off now, I have a job interview to get to. Jen's room is upstairs, first door on the right. Have fun you two!" She informed you before heading out the door.

You walked up the stairs until you found an oak door, and knocked before coming in. "Uh, hi, it's (Y/N), I'm here to help you study..?" You said as you slowly walked in and shut the door behind you. Jennifer was standing, looking in the mirror and smearing concealer under her eyes. She sighed and looked over to you. "Sit on the bed. You know, I was gonna gut you like a fish and drink your blood like a Slurpee, but my mom seems to like you, and I don't think you're too bad. Shame, would have been a great opportunity." She said nonchalantly. As she turned to you, you saw that her face was pale and broken out in acne.

Your heart skipped a beat and the color drained from your face. "I'm sorry, w-what...?" You tried to gulp down the fear in your words. "I'm a succubus, idiot. Don't think that I didn't notice you staring at the blood on my shoes the first day we met. I feed on people's bodies and sexual energy so I can feel good and look good. But I've decided you're worth keeping around, so I'll save that for the next chump. So, shall we get to know each other?" She said calmly as she sat down beside you on the bed.

Billy Loomis

You were home alone yet again, but this time it was mid day. You were watching horror movies out of boredom on your couch, when you got a call. You hesitantly answered, to hear a familiar voice on the other side of the phone. "I'm here, come let me in." You carried the phone with you. You figured one of your friends had stopped by to say hi, and their voice just sounded messed up due to shitty reception. You went to your front door, and looked through the peephole to see someone in a shitty costume, probably from Walmart, as it was October, and stores were starting to sell Halloween costumes and decorations. You hung up the phone and stuck it in your pocket, opening the door slightly with the chain lock still intact.

"Cut it out, prankster. That's not a very creepy costume. Ooo! I'm so scared!! Listen, I've seen the original Japanese film The Ring a million times, I'm not too scared of much." You heard the person sigh and push the door forward aggressively, breaking the lock. You jumped back in shock. "Hey! You're paying for that, asshole!" You yelled only for a quick response. "No, I don't think I will, beautiful. The man said, taking off his mask. To your shock, it was someone that you went to school with, Billy Loomis. You remember him graduating just the year before you, and were a bit shocked at his sudden appearance. You two had talked a bit, and you could consider yourselves acquaintances, but never really close friends.

Billy took a step forward, and in turn, you took one back. He put his hands up, showing he had no weapons in his hands. "Look, I'm not gonna hurt, that's not what I came to do. I just want to...get to know you. Look, you can pat me down, if you really feel the need. I don't have any weapons on me." You lowered your defenses a bit, but still kept them up. "Why would you want to know me so bad?" You asked hesitantly. "Well, I looked through your window and realized I'd found you again. And I wanted to get to know the pretty (girl/boy/person) I used to look at in the hallways every day." He said in a smooth tone. And that's where your night started.

Thomas Hewitt

It was a lovely Texas summer day. A warm breeze carried through the semi-tall grass in the fields, and the smell of fresh bread filled the small wooden house. On this fine afternoon, you happened to be listening to some old music, from the 50s-60s, and baking. When you least expected it, you heard a loud knock on the door. You figured it might have been one of your new neighbors looking to get to know you, or ask to borrow something. You strolled to the door and opened it, to see a rather large man in a butcher's apron, curly dark hair, and a rather scarred face on the other side. Though he had somewhat of a threatening aura, you knew that there was more behind his appearance.

You saw him open his mouth, but then stop and think for a moment. He hesitantly put his hands up and made a few broken and hand signals. You realized quickly that it was sign language, as you had an uncle growing up that happened to be deaf, so you learned it so that you two could talk. "I'm not deaf, I just don't like to speak." You watched him sign apprehensively, and responded allowed. "That's okay, hun. What can I do for you?" You asked, and he thought for a moment. "Do you have some salt I can use? Papa shot a..." He stopped for a moment, then looked back up to meet your eyes. "Papa shot a deer, and we ran out of salt to dry out the hide and season the meat." He asked, and you replied. "Of course! Come right in, I keep a few bags in the cupboard, I have a half-full one you can take home." You told him as you allowed him to come in and shut the door behind him.

Your bread sat warm in the window-sill, cooling down. As you handed him the salt, he pointed over to it. "Oh, do you want a piece?" He nodded aggressively, and you smiled. You grabbed the metal baking sheet and put it on the counter, slicing a few pieces. "Here, you can have more than one. I make it all the time, and it's just me here to eat it anyways." You told him. "Would you like to sit down and chat for a moment? I can make you tea or coffee too if you like? You can tell me about yourself. That is, if you don't have to be home right quick." The man nodded again, and set the salt down on the counter. "My name's Thomas. I'd like some...Peppermint tea, if you have it." The man signed to you, his guard down as he clearly felt welcomed in the household. "Okay, Thomas, right on it." You smiled warmly and handed him a thick slice of warm bread with butter and mulberry jam smeared over the top. "Take a seat, dear."

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~Author's Note~

Hi guys, I'm so sorry it took so long to get this second part out :( I've just been really stressed and not in a great mental place, plus the factor of writer's block and being scared to burn myself out. But thank you for those who have stayed through the hiatus to continue reading!! Please comment below if you have any character or scenario requests. Goodbye for now, loves!

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mirror-vicit-omnia · 3 years

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Ya know what? F*ck it. DMC Heathers!AU where Dante is Jason Dean but never tries to blow up the school or murder anybody and the reader is Veronica.

Dante has an adoptive jackass dad, Big Blood Dean. Sparda is in hell and Eva is dead. Vergil is a missing person's case no one can solve. Big Blood Dean adopted him for the money and drags Dante all across the map with his shady deconstruction company.

The reader is in the same situation as veronica, it goes to canon. They get an in with the Heathers, there's probably a Martha involved.

Fight For Me. Just imagine Dante kicking ass. Those jocks wouldn't stand a chance in a million years.

I like the West End performance for all this.

Dante doesn't quote Baudelaire (if this was Vergil instead of Dante, yes he would have)

Reader: "Okay, don't just drop a snappy one-liner and then walk away! Excuse me? I didn't catch your name?"

Dante, all devil-may-care swagger: "Well, I didn't throw it."

If you think Jason Dean was a good fighter, you should see dante. He's always finding places to train with his sword and picking fights to keep sharp. Yep, he still has demonic powers and demonic heritage and a demonic sword.

He's been dragged to 10 different high schools. Now, Dante is the kind of guy who can just drop everything, pick up and go, if it weren't for the fact that he's adoptive dad sucks. Yeah, he's asking himself these days why he didn't just bail sooner.

He probably tried to run away when he was younger and the cops found him. Even young little Dante knew not to let anyone know about his demon heritage I guess. I don't know.

Anyway, enough logic!

The reader and Dante do not cause the death of Heather chandler. Maybe they think they did, cuz Dante still made the joke of poisoning Heather, and the mugs still got switched up, but later on after the entire world thinks Heather Chandler died a saint, the reader tells Dante that she doesn't think whatever Heather drank was what killed her.

Of course, the body is gone and so is any evidence that could have told them otherwise.

Meanwhile, Heather Duke rises in red and Kurt and Ram insist that they slept with the reader and did drugs.

Dante picks the reader up when they fall apart crying. He does set up the plan of baiting the jocks to the cemetery at dawn. But he's actually planning to knock them out and do some crazy embarrassing stuff with them, the kind of immature terror that only Young men can conceive of and inflict on one another.

Chloroform is involved. Dante packs his gun for safety. He's not a demon Hunter yet, but he knows what's out there, and there's no way he's walking into a cemetery without one weapon at least.

So, the jocks were probably going to wake up naked and tied up on a monument in the Town square or a landmark for everyone to see. It might even make the papers, since this town is so small. Dante would fleece them for their money, and encourage the reader to do the same.

"Hey, how about we divvy it up? One for you, one for me. One for you, and one, two for me- Ow! Fine, whatever, take what you want!"

But what was meant to be a life ruining prank goes horribly wrong. They got Ram, but Kurt's streaking through the graveyard in his skivvies.

Dante sprints after him. "Don't worry, I'll get him back!"

Funny. Kurt should be here. Dante knows how fast a human can run. He checks behind the tombstones, but the jock simply isn't here. Like he just disappeared.

There's a shift in the air. Dante stands still. Even for a cemetery, it's too quiet. Not peaceful. Tents. Restless. Dante's just trotting back when he knows. The reader feels something, too, that pricking in the hind brain that sets the hairs standing. Dante flicks back the red tails of his duster and pulls out his gun.

Reader: "Woah! Are those guns real?!"

Dante flexes his bicep: "'Course they are, babe!"

Reader: "No! I mean th-!"

Bang! A murder of crows take to the air. The only thing more unnerving than the mist and the gunshot is the cold hard gleam in Dante's eye.

And something in the tombstones growls.

Basically, there's probably some small hellgate in the area. Weak demons are leaking through.

The plot turns away from Heather's and fake suicides and mental illness into an '80s horror slasher flick in which Dante and the reader survive and work together to break the hell gate. Dante's dad might end up dead in the process, not by his hands but just because. Alternatively, Dante decides that he's turning 18 in a couple of months and soon the law won't be able to chase after him. He doesn't know what he's going to do with his life, but he sure as hell isn't letting big blood Dean drag him anywhere anymore.

Either way, it's implied that Dante finds his calling through this story.

And becomes a demon hunter.

Demons might have been possessing people or killing people and making it look like suicides so they can drain the humans of their blood when they're brought to the morgue. A bunch of lesser demons serving a relatively stronger demon.

It serves a similar effect as the sensationalization of fake suicides in the musical's plot. Only now the reader forged the suicide notes and set up the fake suicides in order to protect them both. There's no way the law was going to buy the truth.

The reader still has to deal with Heather duke, Heather mcnamara, the horrors of the hierarchy of the high school. They deal with Miss Fleming and the assembly. Is Heather McNamara from actually committing suicide, but then there's still a demon attack that they have to somehow protect both of them from. And this is taking place in the '80s, so there are no cell phones and the landline is cut.

The hellgate was dormant under the boiler room in the high school.

If Dante got possessed, we could still have some Dead Girl Walking (Reprise) and the reader shoots him but it's Dante so he survives!

Whatever was possessing him was nowhere near as good at fighting as a human.

Cherry flavored slushies. Dante drinks cherry flavored slushies, and when he sings I thought emotional part where he accidentally reveals thoughts of suicide, he tries to brush it off with humor, as always.

Still our favorite chaotic half demon.

Cherry flavored slurpees and pizza and teenage detective work that dpuble as dates. Dante doesn't give a s*** and just wants to be pointed in the direction of the fight. The reader is actually doing research and carefully trying to piece together what is going on. Dante provides whatever he knows on demons. And hell.

Dante: "Yeah, my dad is the legendary demon Sparda. My mom and brother died in a demon attack on our house and that's why I'm in foster care."

Reader: "Okay... Sounds fake, but okay..."

Dante gets shot right in the chest. Reader freaks out, but still manages to blow up the hell gate with a bomb and thermals. To collapse the whole gymnasium, which is empty.

They crawl out of the dust. Shaking, a lot to process all at once.

Then there's a whistle. And impressed whistle. The reader looks up. It's Dante, standing strong and straight and waving at dust like he's not squirting blood out of the hole in his chest. "Now, that was some fireworks! Remind me to invite you to my next birthday party."

And that was when the reader believed that he was actually half demon.

Plot twist a faculty member opened the hell gate and it's Miss Fleming the hippie.

I wanted to feel more 80s than it sounds here, and other than that that's all I've got.

Edit 8/20/21

The reader wears the blue Heathers uniform. Short grey skirt and all.

Or if you don't like skirts, then trousers. Tight, flattering trousers. Dante loves to watch how they pull in all the right places.

The two of you are hanging out upstairs in his room, talking about the deaths. The read is worried, fretting over the mystery, flipping through pages in their notebook; Dante sprawls next to them, half hanging off the bed, head in their lap, yawning. The front door opens and bangs shut. Dante springs out of his seat. Suddenly, he wants to get out if the house.

"Hey, do you want some ice cream? Dairy Queen, strawberry sundae, you and me. C'mon!"

Big Blood Dean stomps upstairs. "Dante! Get yer worthless ass in gear! We gotta a job, you gotta go on a supply run-"

Dean barges right on in. Looks at Dante. Looks at the reader. "You got company."

"S'there a problem?" Dante sounds cool. Too cool. He's on his feet and wandering about the room, like he's bored. The reader tenses. Dean is huge, but he somehow looms beyond his size.

Dante does his careless waltz. The reader can't take their eyes off Dean. Like a frightened animal. How can Dante expose his back like that?!

But by getting up, he's put himself between you and his adoptive parent.

"Get rid of them," orders Dean.

Shrugging, Dante pats your knee. "Alright, c'mon, babe." He leads you by the elbow to the window. You still keep an eye on Dean. He's glaring.

Dante throws open the window and bows. "After you!"

"Um, the front door is...?"

He's not serious.

"Go on!"

He's serious.

Hesitant, you stick a leg through and let him push you the rest of the way out. Then he slips out, too

"You come back here, boy-!"

"See ya, old man!" Dante slams the window shut.

"Is he going to lock you out?" You ask as you shimmy down the drain pipe.

"He can't. You broke my window lock."

Dante buys two Sundaes because he doesn't want to share; after he polishes off his, he's snatching bites of yours.

He used the "Nevada account."

(Update 9-20-21)

And this whole story would be even better with JD!Virgil instead.

Virgil didn't have time yet to harden from the demon attack before Big Blood Dean adopted him.

This is all much the same as with JD!Dante, except that Virgil gets darker (not that Veronica!Reader knows how bad it is; they didn't accidentally murder Heather together) carries a gun and everything.

In the big final fight, Virgil runs out of ammo. Demons have cornered him. It's the house, his Mom, Dante, all over again.

One blink later, the demons are all dead, slashed open. Virgil shakes as he yanks on the handle in his grip, and pulls out the blade from a soft belly.

Yamato. How did it get here? These demons are unrecognizable, like dead carrion at a butchers. Did I do this? He thinks, distant and fuzzy, as he watches his hands like watching a film as they flip his sword.

Humans are weak. Humans are wretched.

The reader's smile passes through his mind.

... Perhaps not all humans are... Deserving of death.

They're just weak. Virgil flicks gore off the sword, and heads to his house, looking for Big Blood Dean.

He didn't like the way Dean had scared you with the "Norwegian in the Boiler Room" talk, anyway.

(Spoilers: Dean doesn't live. And Virgil loves you, but this was mostly for him. It's the tipping point, and afterwards he chooses his demonic heritage over humanity. But less "kill them all" and more "purge those who dare cross our path- but don't tell Reader, they get upset easily." What they don't know can't hurt them- and you have Virgil to thank.)

You two definitely run away together at the end. Off to explore knowledge of demons and Hell and whatever else.

You want to seal off the Hellgates that are being all over the world.

Virgil wants to level-grind.

It's couples-time, really.

#DMC x Heathers #heathers au #dmc #dante dmc #dante x reader #dmc dante #dmc dante x reader #my post #my writing

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sprnklersplashes · 3 years

Text

jdronica+I kissed you in front of my ex (also on ao3)

The 7-Eleven is hardly much warmer than it is outside, but at least it’s drier. Veronica shakes the rain out of her hair as she steps in, shaking her head like a dog and sprinkling tiny droplets over the tiles. September announced its arrival in Sherwood with grey skies and bucket loads of rain, and three days in, the downpour shows no sign of stopping. It put a little bit of a damper to show up on the first day of her senior year soaking wet (pun intended because puns should always be intended), and there’s a growing sense of anxiety among students about whether or not the rain will let up in time for football practice to start.

But, where the rain might mess with first-day plans and be a pain for football fanatics, it’s the ideal weather for movie nights. The kind that involves piles of blankets, hot cocoa, and a combination of new releases and old favourites. The kind that, funnily enough, Veronica and Martha had planned for the weekend and scheduled when the sun was still out.

Maybe the weather was on their side.

“Okay, you grab the JiffyPop and drinks; I’ll raid the candy aisle,” Veronica instructs. “I’ll meet you at the counter.”

“Don’t go crazy on the candy,” Martha warns her. “Orange soda or blue?”

“Orange, and I will go completely crazy on the candy.” Martha raises her eyebrow, a fond shake of her head, but there’s little she can do when there’s a five-dollar bill burning in Veronica’s pocket. Veronica shoots little finger guns at Martha before bouncing down the candy aisle, taking stock of all the treats on offer.

She grabs a packet of Milk Duds because they go great with popcorn and a sharing bag of red vines too. She grabs a packet of the little watermelons (Martha’s personal favourite) and chuckles as she picks up a sharing bar of Hershey’s (private joke). She drops her candy stash into her basket and is in the middle of a debate between the packets of Sour Patch Kids and the packets of chips on sale when something, or rather someone, appears behind her.

“Want a Slurpee with that?”

She only jumps a tiny bit, and she’s glad because it doesn’t show how the stranger scared the pants off her. Mostly because she was lost in her head, but still, what was the asshole expecting, coming behind her like that? She turns around, her basket still on her arm, and she has an entire rant about convenience store etiquette ready, but it dies when she sees who it is.

Jason Dean, or as he prefers to be known, JD. New kids are something of a rarity in Sherwood, Ohio, which means he’s front-page news at school. Branded The New Kid, and he’ll probably still be that at graduation. People have done their best to Make Him Feel Welcome, as Ms. Fleming brightly suggested (demanded) they do, and despite some pleasantries, no one’s quite managed to get him to their lunch table. Most of the time, he’s alone, always with a different book. He’s gone from Baudelaire to Dickens to Orwell.

Not that she’s paying attention.

“Well, hello, Jason Dean.” She leans up against the counter and gestures to the cup in his hand. “Not my thing, but if you play your cards right, you can buy me a Big Gulp.”

“Blasphemy, little miss. Slurpee is the signature dish of the house. Did you say cherry or lime?”

“I said Big Gulp.” She lets the smile linger on her lips, feels it grow wider as he turns around. He laughs it off, and she takes note of the dimples in his cheeks, the way his hair falls forward into his eyes in a way that may or may not make her heart pick up.

“You’re Veronica, right?” he asks. “Veronica Sawyer.” He holds his free hand up. “Not stalking. I just sit two rows behind you in English.”

“I remember,” she replies. “Yes, it’s Veronica Sawyer.” She crosses her arms over her chest and chews thoughtfully on her lower lip. “So… may I ask what brings you to Sherwood, Ohio?”

His smile falters then, the spark dimming in his eyes, and his free hand slides into his pocket. She kicks herself immediately, her with her stupid attempts at flirting and her stupid nose poking into other people’s business. This is why she only sticks to Martha and occasionally Heather Mac, and if the universe wanted to remind her, it could have done it less painfully.

“Uh, new foster placement,” he tells her after a minute. “My old group home got too crowded, and it turns out the only other place that would take a teenager with insane daddy issues was all the way across the state.”

“Oh,” is all she can find to say, for all her teachers praising her for her brains. One word, one syllable. “Well, that’s….” Cool? Nice? Fun? Interesting? Nothing is appropriate here, no matter what direction she turns in.

But then Jason Dean taps her arm, wearing a smile that’s equal parts charming and apologetic, and the smoke in her brain begins to clear.

“Sorry, I probably should’ve been a bit more tactful there,” he says. “I know it’s a bit of a wild thing to drop on someone. My tragic hero backstory and all that.”

“Well, if it means you end up leading a life of crime-fighting and protecting our town, it all works out.”

“Maybe. Not sure if I can pull off the tights and leotard.”

“Oh, I’m sure you’ve got the legs for it,” she replies, and when he bursts out laughing, so does she. It feels weird, almost familiar. Like she’s known him for far longer than three days. She shuffles closer to him, pulled forward by her curiosity.

He eyes her basket and opens his mouth to say something else, but then the little bell rings at the shop door, and Veronica lets out a soft curse when she sees who it is.

What exactly her ex-girlfriend is doing at the 7-Eleven, she can’t fathom. This was on her list of places she could most definitely keep going to regularly after they broke up, and that list is depressingly small. This is meant to be the part of town Heather Duke, or any of the Heathers don’t grace with their presence, not even Macnamara. If they divided up the assets after breaking up last month, the 7-Eleven was definitely in her pile.

Or maybe not, she thinks as she watches Heather cross the floor in her heels, loose change in her hand.

The universe just will not let her be.

Duke notices her after she does, dark eyes widening at the sight of her. Veronica’s at a loss for what to do, whether to wave at her, flip her off, or just ignore her completely. She needs to think of something soon because Heather is moving closer towards her, and the last thing she needs is a not-so-subtle reminder of how she’s doing so much better than she is.

Her brain turns off, her body going into autopilot.

Instinct says to grab the closest thing to her, and the closest thing happens to be JD.

She whispers, “I’m sorry,” just loud enough so he can hear a second before her lips touch his, and by that point, she can’t exactly back out.

She doesn’t know what’s crazier; her kissing JD or the fact he kisses her back.

His hand is flat against her back, his other one cupping her cheek. She doesn’t know how experienced he is in these matters, but damn, he’s not bad. She’d even call him good. Maybe great. He tilts his head slightly but still lets her keep control, and his lips are soft and slightly cold from the Slurpee. It’s just slow enough to make it interesting, and he doesn’t pull away when she kisses him again.

When she does pull away, Heather is far past them, her pace too quick to be calm, and Veronica smugly counts it as a victory.

That is until she realises her hands are still balled up in JD’s shirt.

“I am… so sorry,” she begins. “I just… I know I shouldn’t have, but I just needed to do something to-”

“Woah, woah, woah, Ronnie,” he says. She only blushes slightly at the nickname. “Just answer me one question.” She nods, words catching in her throat, and he points up to where Heather is. “Ex?”

“Yup,” is her meek response, and to her shock, he laughs.

“Okay, Veronica Sawyer,” he tells her. “No hard feelings.” She untangles herself from him and retrieves her basket from where she dropped it on the floor. She looks behind and finds his Slurpee sitting on the shelf, standing out amongst the candies.

She’s tempted by the Slurpee offer, after all. She needs something to stop her cheeks from burning.

“I should go,” she says. “My friend, she’ll be wondering where I am.” She backs up, her eyes unable to leave his grinning face. “Um, thank you very much. For being so understanding about… that. All of that. Uh, see you around maybe. Yeah.”

She manages to turn herself around and takes the opportunity to stop hiding and let out a silent scream. She moves to go, to run and pay for her candy, and start plan to avoid him as much as humanly possible-or change her name and flee the state, that could work-but then he calls after her, and she stops in her tracks,

“Hey!” he says. She turns to face him again, and while he keeps a respectable distance, she can still see the smile on his face, all soft angles and laugh lines, and the telltale butterflies begin in her stomach.

“You’re busy this weekend,” he says. “What about next?”

That’s the story of Veronica Sawyer and Jason Dean’s first kiss.

For those who want to know, their second involves her pinning up against the wall of a McDonald’s bathroom and him breathlessly whispering her name against her lips.

#heathers the musical #heathers fanfic #jdronica #pure au jdronica #veronica sawyer #jason dean #i wrote this over teh course of an hour and just posted it so yeahhhhhh.....#i miss heathers

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zoey-wades · 3 years

Text

Get You (Fluff-ish)

Pairing: Bryce Lahela x Aurora Emery

Rating: General Audiences

Warnings: A little flirting and swearing, dassit.

Summary: Bryce and Aurora get to know one another, which pushes our boy into unknown, cavity-inducing territory.

A/N: My number one rarepair that no one else ships. I wrote this because I was bullied by @thecapturedafrique into writing something. I haven't written anything for choices in quite some time, so this is... that something.

_____________________________________________________________

To Be Alone (Part One)

Bryce always believed that fawning--real, genuine, starry-eyed awe--was goofy. He could count on one hand the number of times a partner left him speechless, which was quite a feat. It wasn’t that he believed he was above it; he could never quite understand the position someone would have to be in to feel that way about someone else. But that damn Aurora Emery and her silent but deadly studious stare could bring any man to his knees. He told her as much. Multiple times, in fact. She’d laugh it off as just a huge joke, but Bryce needed her to know that he was being legit. It was important to him that she knew that about herself. Maybe she could reel it in and let him have control over himself for once.

There wasn’t a name for what they were--a fact that Bryce was okay with. At least he thought. Right now they were just comfortable in one another’s company. It’s not that he didn’t want more...the question crossed his mind more than once. But Aurora never once hinted at the fact that she was looking for anything more than companionship. She was blunt. If she wanted something serious, she definitely would’ve said so. Unfortunately, Edenbrook was filled to the brim with nosy fucks. And though he wasn’t necessarily one for hiding his attraction, he knew for a fact that the attention made Aurora uncomfortable. On more than one occasion, he had to tell people to back off when they made comments about “thawing the ice princess.” He would do anything in his power to protect her, if he could. He spent two months of Fridays with her, a ritual that just kind of happened without much planning. They’d talk for hours, and more than once he’d woken up in her bed, with his arms wrapped around her and her head on his chest.

So when Aurora texted him that Friday afternoon about a change of plans, curiosity plagued him.

Bryce: Change of plans, huh? What’s up?

Three bubbles popped up. And then:

Aurora: I wanted to do something different. Same meeting place?

Bryce: Always.

Bryce: Am I allowed to know what that something different is? Or is it a surprise?

Aurora: It wasn’t a surprise.

Aurora: But now I think it is.

Bryce: You’re killin me. Do you know what you do to me, Rory?

There was a long pause as she typed. And then stopped. And then typed again.

Aurora: Where have I heard that before? ;)

And there it was. That boldness that seemed to show up at the most inopportune times and sent a rushing wave of warmth through him. It climbed up the back of his neck and made him huff out a sigh in the middle of the cafeteria.

Bryce: Careful, I might have to take you for a ride in the parking lot. Again.

Aurora: Don’t make threats you can’t follow through with, daddy.

Despite the bravado, Bryce was clearly flustered. He didn’t know it was possible for someone to out-Bryce him. But here he was: red faced and shifty-eyed in the middle of a crowded room. He placed his phone face-down and took a long sip from his water bottle, willing his blood to return to his brain and away from his head. When he was sure that he could resume the conversation without hunting Aurora down for sport, he picked the phone back up.

Bryce: Alright, Miss Emery. I’ll play your games. See you later?

Aurora: xxoo

It was all so corny, he thought to himself. Reading and re-reading her texts, or scrolling through her Instagram to see her even when she wasn’t around...these were actions that he had NEVER considered remotely Bryce-like. Yet there he was, spending his free time thinking about what he’d say to her when he saw her at the end of the day. Thoughts of her were interrupted only when he needed all of his attention to keep people’s organs in place. Or when he needed to write a report. But when all was said and done, his thoughts drifted right back to her. He blinked, and it was the end of the day. He felt his hands shake, and wondered what the fuck he had to be nervous about.

They’d spent so much time together. They were practically together. Weren’t they?

“God damn it,” he muttered to himself, as he ran his fingers through his hair and stared at himself in the bathroom mirror. It always looked good, but for some reason--today of all days--it wouldn’t cooperate, “You are Bryce Fucking Lahela. You don’t get flustered. Jesus.”

He shook his arms out, rolled his shoulders, and took a deep breath.

“Alright,” he sighed, “Let’s go see our woman.”

Aurora looked amazing leaning against the hood of his car. She was dressed in black jeans and a simple tee shirt, with her hair in a bun. But he wanted to kiss her right there in front of everyone, PDA be damned. Her face lit up when she noticed him, and he nearly tripped over his feet as he walked across the parking lot, causing him to pause his steps. Her brows furrowed in concern.

God she was so cute.

He shoved his hands in his pockets and kept walking in an attempt to save face. Because of course he did.

“Are you alright, Lahela?” She asked, raising a hand to his forehead, “You’re clammy.” Bryce gently grabbed her hand and kissed the back of it absentmindedly, resulting in a slow grin gracing her pretty features.

“I’m good. I just showered, so my hair is a little wet,” her fingers intertwined with his, and his voice caught in his chest. He cleared his throat, “I-uh...I didn’t want to smell like...well you know.”

“Yeah, I know.”

She bit her lower lip and glanced over his shoulder before leaning up to place a small peck on his lips. It’d been something she’d done numerous times before. But today it felt different. He couldn’t place what the difference was, but as she pulled back from him, he leaned forward to kiss her again. She smiled against his lips, and placed a hand on his chest.

“Down boy,” she laughed, “save some of that energy for later on.”

His first thought was to say “fuck later on” and take her on the hood of his car. The louder second thought reminded him that she wasn’t going anywhere. That this was different. And he nodded, taking a mental step back.

“So what’s the surprise?”

“If I told you, it wouldn’t be a surprise.”

His hands snaked around her and he rested his forehead on her shoulder. The action was surprisingly intimate, all things considered, “I hate when people say that.”

“You’d think it’d make you ask the question less, then.”

“Hardy-har, smartass.” When she reached up to scratch the back of his head with her nails, he groaned involuntarily and squeezed her, lifting his head to look up at her, “We need to get out of here, and fast.”

Something flashed across her features, and she raised a brow.

“Alright.”

The drive to this supposed secret was a long one. Using Aurora’s GPS directions, the trip led them down numerous winding roads, across a bridge, and through some trees. If he didn’t know any better, he’d guess she was leading him to his own demise. Maybe she was softening up by holding his hand while he steered. And badly singing along to some 90s pop song was just a plot to let his guard down. It was working. She could brandish a knife, and he wouldn’t even notice.

The final destination was a large clearing filled with parked cars, and a large screen projecting some early 00s movie trailers. People milled around, drinking and eating large buckets of popcorn.

“Well shit,” Bryce grinned as he pulled up to an empty spot between two standing speakers, “You brought me to a drive-in?”

Aurora was already unbuckling her seatbelt, “You said you never got to have a normal high school experience. So, I figured we’d make up for lost time. Only if you want to. If you think this is corny, we can do something else.” She paused and turned to him with wide eyes, “You don’t think this is lame, do you?”

Bryce cupped her face in his hands and pressed a loud smack of a kiss on her lips, “Rory, this is perfect.”

As they stood in line waiting to order movie snacks, he looked over at Aurora to find her deep in thought. Her brows were furrowed as she read the menu, and her lips were slightly pursed just begging to be kissed. She muttered something about the prices staying the same for 10 years, completely unaware of the effect she had on him just by existing. Knowing he had a preference for slashers, Aurora brought him to see a double-feature of Scream and I Know What You Did Last Summer which were both favorites of his. He was surprisingly touched that she remembered. He assumed that she may have forgotten those throwaway comments he made. After all, he wasn’t used to people remembering the small details of his life, and he didn’t mention them often. He’d been working so hard for her trust that he didn’t even realize she’d been working to earn his as well, in her own Emery kind of way.

“Caramel corn?” She suddenly said, and he blinked at her in confusion.

“What?”

“Do you want caramel corn? Or kettle corn? I know you like mixing the salty and the sweet. So I’ll get cheddar,” she pointed at the menu, “And you can get the caramel. And we’ll just…” She made a weird gesture, insinuating mixing the two in a bucket. He randomly felt a pang in his stomach and he had to stop himself from doubling over.

Oh.

“Caramel is perfect,” Bryce said, throwing an arm around her shoulder and pulling her closer, “We can do whatever you want.”

Oh no.

She threw him a funny look, but shook her head and chuckled softly, “Okay then.”

Bryce followed her back to the car like a lost puppy, carrying the popcorn while she carried the slurpees, and he felt the pang in his stomach turn into a dull flutter. Seeing Aurora out of her element was something he had to learn to get used to. Within the walls of Edenbrook, she was perpetually serious. You’d be hard pressed to find her laughing or shaking from nerves. She remained calm and level-headed, always logical, and rarely sentimental unless she was with a patient. The first time he saw Aurora lighten up was when she was among their friend group. Though she seemed partially guarded, in hindsight, it was the first time Bryce saw her fully smile. He recognized that she was beautiful, even then. But there was something about the way that she had a smile reserved especially for him that made that smile pale in comparison. There, in the car, she shook the popcorn in a bag vigorously with the dorkiest grin on her face. He wondered if anyone else ever had the chance to see her like this, and he hoped to God they hadn’t.

“You’re gonna tear the bag, Rory,” he said, laughing along with her, “I’ve never seen someone so violent with popcorn. You should’ve just let me do it. With these arms,” he flexed and she rolled her eyes, “It would’ve taken a lot less time.”

“There’s a method to this,” she shook it one last time for good measure, “You don’t want a pile of one flavor at the bottom. It has to be evenly distributed, come on. You should know this.”

She unrolled the bag opening and tilted it in his direction, “See. I know what I’m doing.”

“Yeah, yeah. You’re the genius here.”

“Thank you.” She popped a piece of caramel corn in her mouth.

One thing Aurora failed to share with him was that she was afraid of slashers. She clung to his arm during the tense scenes, hiding her face in his shoulder and jumping when people were killed. During the low moments, Bryce would pull her close and whisper film facts to her, hoping that the realism would make the movies a little more palatable. As the time passed, she relaxed, leaning back into the seat and only slightly jumping when someone died. Her hand slipped into his, and he could feel her pulse race. By the time I Know What You Did Last Summer was over, and Scream was about to begin, half of the popcorn was on the floor from Aurora constantly jumping.

“Why didn’t you tell me you didn’t like these? We could’ve seen something else, Aurora,” Bryce asked.

She shrugged, scooping small handfuls of popcorn and throwing them out of the open window, “I work in a hospital. I thought I could handle it. Plus, I know you like them...I just wanted to do something fun.”

“I don’t think watching you freak out over a killer in a fishing village is fun,” Bryce half-joked, “Even though I did like having you curled up under me. That was a plus.”

She playfully hit him on his arm.

“I’m serious though,” Bryce said, turning to her, “next time, we can do something we both like.”

“I promise, it’s not that serious,” she shrugged, “I did this all the time in high school. It’s par for the course.”

He felt the uncharacteristic sting of minor jealousy, but quickly pushed the feeling away.

“So you just brought cute guys to the drive-in all the time? I didn’t know teen Aurora was such a player.”

She snorted and shook her head, taking a large sip from her slurpee, “Never that. I was in the science club and boys scared me. I came here with my friends. Maybe my parents.” There was a moment of pause and she swirled the straw around in her cup, “You’re the first guy I’ve ever been here with. So I guess this is like a high school redo for me, too. So...thanks for coming here with me.”

Her voice sounded so soft, and he realized she was sharing more about herself without him having to reassure her that it was safe to do it. Without thinking, Bryce leaned across the passenger seat and kissed her, pulling a soft gasp from her lips. His large hand cupped her chin, and she walked her fingers around the back of his neck. She tasted like Blue Raspberry syrup and smelled like sweet coconut and vanilla shampoo. When she pulled away and rested her forehead against his, she smiled at him and pushed some loose hair away from his face.

“What was that for?”

“I just felt like it. I don’t know. I…” he swallowed hard and shut his eyes, “I think…”

Fuck.

He opened his eyes to see her watching him with a concerned expression on her face, “You think…? Did I do something--”

“I think I love you, Aurora.”

#playchoices #bryce lahela #aurora emery #bryce x aurora #naja writes #get into it (yuh) or whatever Doja said

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skywalkerstyles · 3 years

Text

Skin (Bakugou x OC!Reader insert)

Warnings: kidnapping, stockholm syndrome, quirkless AU, criminal Bakugou, robbery, hostage situation, anxiety, mysophobia

Summary: Katsuki Bakugou is a killer, hell bent on revenge. Hikaru Moshimoto is a college student with a dark and cloudy past. When Hikaru is taken hostage and forced to work with Bakugou in order to survive, will the be able to get passed their differences, and see the people behind the scars? A stalker seeks to finish something Hikaru started a long time ago. When they come head to head, will Bakugou protect her? Or will he add another victim to his list?

Hikaru Moshimato felt sick when she woke up that chilly september morning. Monday, September fifteenth to be exact. It was a day she would never forget or get over. It changed the course of her life forever.

It started out like any other morning, she got up, got dressed, had breakfast, fed her little cat Yoshi and headed out the door on her way to work. But there was a presence, it was dark and gloomy, and hung over her like a shadow. Something was coming, and she wasn't ready for it. At all.

She pulled up to the little gas station by her job, it had a little convenience store attached, a place she could grab snacks and drinks before work, the vending machines there were usually way overpriced, so it was easier to just bring food with her. She got out of her car, locking the doors as she held her wallet close to her chest, tucked her head down and walked inside.

She sighed, upon stepping into the cool air conditioned building, and instead of walking up to the counter and just paying for her gas she eyed the slushie station. She loved slushies, and she could never pass one up. She smiled to herself thinking, fuck it, and strolled over to the slushie machine. There was a man standing to the side of the machine, where the fridges held the drinks, he had a Redbull in one hand and a smartwater in the other. He wore an unbuttoned, navy blue flannel with a black t shirt and grease stained blue jeans. His eyes were covered by dark sunglasses and his hair was covered by a blue and white striped baseball cap. Hikaru was hyper aware of his presence, making sure to keep aware of her surroundings. She didn’t like the vibe she was getting from this guy. He scared her. Seemed like trouble.

But if he noticed her presence, he didn't show any signs of it.

So Hikaru relaxed her shoulders, shaking her head and began to ponder the flavor she’d get today. Hikaru had never been one for conversation anyway. She always kept to herself, due to some social anxieties and quirks she had, that made her ‘unapproachable’ as her mother had put it. But if you had a doctor mother who abused prescription medication and neglected you after your father’s death, you might have some fucked up issues too.

Which is why she found it strange when she felt the man’s presence shift, he’d come closer to her, and she could feel him staring. She kept her eyes down, feeling her cheeks heat up as she pulled a cup from the slot and got ready to pour her syrupy drink into it.

"What's your favorite flavour?" He asked suddenly, and the deep rough voice startled her. She twitched and peek at him curiously through her hair, that thankfully, covered most of her face.

"Coke." she answered meekly. The man cracked a smile, his teeth were perfect and bright. It was almost, alluring. Definitely charming.

“Really?” he asked, reaching out and taking the cup from her. She didn’t have time to react, before he plucked it from her hands and filled it with the drink of her choice. “I like blue raspberry best….sometimes cherry’s good too.” He handed her the drink and she took it hesitantly. He chuckled at her demeanor, cocking his head to the side, that ridiculously handsome smile still plastered to his face.

“Thank you.” she managed after a moment, she placed a lid on her drink and grabbed a straw.

“No problem,” he replied, following her as she turned towards the cashier. She can feel the panic and the nerves rising within her. Why was he following her? As they stood in line, waiting for the other customers to leave, she could feel the man change, his whole demeanor took on a darker, more serious tone. She curled in on herself, hoping he wouldn’t try and follow her to her car. Hikaru hadn’t always been this way. Afraid of germs, afraid of touch….Basic human contact. No. If you looked at her high school yearbook, you wouldn’t even think it was the same person. She used to be bright, and outgoing, willing to chat it up with just about anybody, a regular teenage girl. Until Amano. And...Hina... She shook her head, trying to focus on the task at hand, get the drink. Get the gas. Go to work. She took a deep breath, she would complete her goals today.

“Hi! How are you today?” a cheery red head smiled at Hikaru, she tried to smile back, and return the enthusiasm, but the feeling of dread was starting to creep back up on her and she couldn’t shake it off.

“I’m fine thank you. Ten dollars on pump-”

“Shut up.” Hikaru feels a strong hand wrap around her upper arm and tug her back, she looked up to see the man who had been by the slurpee machine, pulling her towards him, a pistol in his hand, pointed right at the cashier. Hikaru squeaked as the man pulls her into him, jabbing the gun into her side. “Give me all the money in the register, or you, and her die. Now!” Hikaru flinches at the last word, which he snarled at the cashier. She had her hands up, tears streaming down her face. “Move.” he ordered. The cashier slammed a metal grate down and an alarm began to sound. The man held onto Hikaru even harder, yanking her around as he turned to find an exit. “Fuck!” he exclaimed. Hikaru shifted, trying to wriggle free. He pulled her closer, he was big and intimidating. He reminded her of Amano. “You’re not going anywhere.” he said. “I need you. Come on.”

Panic began to rise within Hikaru, she could feel her breath growing more ragged by the minute, all the things she needed to get done shooting through her head. The man dragged her towards the back of the store and into the warehouse, once inside, he shut and locked the door, shoving her from him and holding the gun to her. Surprisingly, the slushie hasn’t spilled. “Don’t move.” he said coldly. A sob escaped her throat, the bubble was rising, she could feel the panic getting ready to burst.

“P-Please,” she rasped, her throat was closing, she couldn’t breathe.“I-I have money.”

“I don’t want your money. We need to get out of here.” Hikaru looked at him confused.

“W-we?” the man grabbed her again, yanking her towards the back of the warehouse.

“Yeah. We. You’re my hostage,” fear filled her as the man’s lips curled into a confident smirk. He pulled a set of handcuffs from his pocket and yanked her forward, cuffing her. “Don’t struggle. And you live.” She was about to faint. The alarm was blaring, but through the sound Hikaru could hear the doors bursting open. The same doors she had walked into only minutes ago, it seemed like hours now. The man cursed again, kicking the back exit door open and shoving her through.

________________

They hid behind a dumpster, he peaked out, looking around to see cops, flooding into the gas station, Hikaru shifted uncomfortably, the cuffs were tight on her wrists, digging into her skin. He didn’t seem to notice. “A-are you a criminal?” she asked. He didn’t even turn to look at her, inching forward slowly, his hand still gripping her tightly.

"Yeah."that was it. No explanation. Just a straight no bull answer. As the cops go into the front of the store, the man gripped her tightly and yanked her towards an older Astro van. Hikaru pondered why no cops were looking over towards them, how no one could see he was taking her. But it would be just her luck. He threw the passenger door open, shoving her inside, before running around to the otherside and climbing in. The door shut with a slam and he pealed out and away, the cops just noticing as you leave the gas station. The sweet and tasty slushie, left on the floor of the warehouse.

____________

The van was loud. It sent deep rumbles of vibration all the way down to Hikaru’s bones. Like a massage after the chaos back at the gas station. Her hands are still bound but the man had finally stowed the gun. There was no handle on the inside of the passenger door. She was stuck and she stayed quiet. Out of fear. The man drummed his fingers against the steering wheel, listening to a song on the radio. The silence wasn’t tense, but it wasn’t comfortable either. "Are you going to kill me?" she asked softly, so low he might not even hear her. He stopped drumming and turned to look at her for the first time since he’d taken her.

"Wasn't planning on it." He replied. “I just needed some cash….but damn that cashier was quick on her feet. Taking you was the only way I would have gotten out of there alive.”

“W-why do you say that?” she asked, curiosity getting the better of her. He cocked his eyebrow, finally taking off his glasses, his eyes were a deep blood red.

“You...You don’t watch tv do you ?” she shook her head. The news gave her anxiety. The only time she left her dorm was for class or work. Necessities. She kept to herself. He chuckled and shook his head as he turned on his turn signal.

“Why do you ask?” she asked a bit louder. She watched his adam’s apple bob and his eyes scan the road, searching for the right answer.

“I uh, I’m in a business most don’t agree with.” he said.

She decided to push a little further, “what do you do?”

“I’m...I’ve killed people.” he said it solemnly. Like he wasn’t proud of it, but he had to do it. Hikaru feels the panic begin to rise again. He cleared his throat. “What’s your name?” he asked, changing the subject.

“M-my…..it’s Hikaru.” she said, wishing she sounded braver than she felt. “Hikaru Moshimoto.”

“I’m Bakugou, Bakugou Katsuki.” he responded, “You know, you’re the first person I’ve met in a long time who didn’t know who I am.” he sighed, clicking his tongue, “You’re a weird girl.”

“Says the man who just admitted to murder being his occupation.” he laughed, shaking his head. She didn’t want to admit it, but she liked his laugh.

“Yeah, maybe we’re both just weird.” He paused and then said carefully, "I won’t hurt you."the tone of his voice is softer, calmer, and surprisingly soothing "Unless you make me." He added with emphasize on ‘make’.

“H-How many…” Hikaru trailed off, unable to finish her question. It was strange, she could never talk and be this open with just anybody. She usually just kept quiet, and stayed in her lane. She wasn’t the type of person to make waves. Not since before…..

“How many people have I killed?” Bakugou finished for her. She nodded, glad to have been pulled back from the darkness of her thoughts. He can tell that she’s got something going on. She looked so small and fragile. Like the china plates his mom used to collect. He really didn’t want to hurt her, and silently prayed he’d never have to. He bit his lip, trying to think of the right answer, “If I had to count….possibly sixty.” Hikaru’s mouth fell open in shock.

“Oh my….” she instinctively moved further from him. He couldn’t help but feel a pang of rejection. She focused on her shoes, on the scuffs and the threads in the laces, anything to keep her from going crazy. They sat in silence for a long while. Bakugou began to twitch as it stretched, it was slight, barely noticeable. Except she saw it. "So where are you taking me?" Hikaru asked awkwardly, eyes darting to his before looking ahead again

“I’m taking you to my family. You’re my hostage for now, but they’ll decide if you know too much or have seen too much.” Hikaru swallowed hard, wondering what that could possibly mean. He must have sensed her worry, because he reached out, only to pull his hand back when she flinched, with a sigh. “Just don’t worry….You seem harmless enough.”

“Can you take the cuffs off? Please? They hurt.” Bakugou pulls off onto the side of the road.

"Don't try anything, okay? I have a gun." Bakugou met her eyes as he shut off the van and turned to her, he looked down to her hands. He quickly unlocked the cuffs and sat back. She rubbed her swollen wrists and he started the car back up.

“Are you scared?” he asked after a while. Hikaru looked up at him again. She noticed he had freckles, they were light and scattered across his cheeks...He’d be a good subject to draw.

“I….” she bit her lip, unsure of how to proceed, “I’m terrified…..I know that mentally….But I guess I’ve shut down. I don’t really feeling anything.”

“Why?” he asked, suddenly curious. Did he want her to be afraid.

“I’ve been in….I’ve been in a lot worse situations,” he scoffed at that, disbelievingly.

“You’re my hostage. I had you at gunpoint. I’m kidnapping you and you’ve been in worse situations?” she smiles at how ludicrous it sounds.

“It does sound crazy but….I don’t know. I have a lot of anxiety disorders and I’ve been struggling with depression so I….maybe this was too much and my body is protecting itself.” he pursed his lips together.

“How old are you?”

“22.”

Shit. He thought. She’s just a kid. “I’m sorry it had to be you.” she gave him a questioning look. “In the store. If you hadn’t been there, I wouldn’t have taken you.” she nodded, not quite accepting his apology, but understanding, that he knew, she had been through some shit.

“I haven’t…..I haven’t left this town my entire life.” she said quietly, changing the subject. Bakugou picked up her switch in demeanor and followed it, trying to lighten the mood.

“Yeah?” she tried to smile, it was small and tight, but she could feel the uneasiness begin to grow again.

“Yeah….where is your family?”

“You’ll see,” he said, flashing her a grin. “You’ll like it better than this dump.” he snorted as they passed the ‘Leaving Town’ sign.

“Why did you come here?” she asked before she could stop herself.

“Don’t ask questions you already know the answer to.” she nodded, sinking back into her seat. Bakugou cleared his throat and turned the radio back up. “Better settle in. We got a long drive…..what kind of music do you like?”

________

He shut the door behind him. The dorm room was quiet and he couldn’t feel her presence as he looked around. Everything was in it’s rightful place, meticulous and germ freak as ever. He missed her so much. He walked over to Hikaru’s desk and lifted the sketchbook that sat open on it, he touched the lines of the person she drew, imagining the way she drew it, the way her hands moved. His heart was racing. It was 4pm and she should have been home now. She didn’t have any friends.

Where was she?

Where was the girl he’d been searching for for so long?

He was dying to see her again…….

#bakugou x reader #bakugou #bakugou katsuki #bakugou x you #bakugou x oc #bakugou bnha #bnha #bakugou imagine #bakugou one shot #bakugou fanfiction #boku no hero academia #my hero academia #mha bakugou #my hero academia fanfiction #my hero academia fanfic #my hero academia one shot #my hero academia imagine

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liberty-barnes · 4 years

Text

Keep You Safe

Peter Parker x Female!Reader

Prompt: “I can’t decide if that’s cute or something characteristic of a psychopath”

Warnings: slightly creepy Peter, but like the endearing kind of creepy, also Petey being a dork,,,as always, protective Peter Parker, Endgame related angst but only for a sec, cuddlesssss, and fluff, lots of fluff, because I’m a hoe for fluff... and Tom Holland’s biceps but that’s a story for another day

Word Count: 2167 words

Estimated Reading Time: 9 minutes

A/N: School has officially closed which means that I’m now forced to stay home all day (which wouldn’t be so bad if I wasn’t locked at home with my dad and he’s getting on every single one of my nerves) and do the homework our teachers send us by email... I didn’t even know Microsoft Teams and OneNote existed until a week ago... so that’s something. I usually write stuff on paper during class cause let’s be honest, I only pay attention to what my teachers are saying when I’m forced to (don’t do this kids, listen to teachers, God I’m a such a bad example) so I’ve got about 5 stories written and I thought “Hey, since I’m too lazy to do my physics homework, why not post it all on tumblr?” So yeah, hi, this is my version of “quarantine is driving me crazy and I need an escape”. And before you ask, yes, I’ve succumbed to the toilet paper juggle thing already, it was not pretty.

Masterlist

Peter Parker was not a creep, he was simply a worried boyfriend.

There is nothing wrong with following your girlfriend after school to make sure she gets home safe before going back to the Tower. Or asking Karen to alert him whenever you leave the house so he could follow you to make sure you were safe. Or gifting you one of those morse code bracelets that monitored your vitals and location because he knew you’d never take it off and that way he could constantly know where you were and how you were feeling.

Peter Parker was not a creep.

He watched from his vantage point on top of a building as you and MJ left the mall, Slurpees in hand and carrying at least five shopping bags each, most of them being from art stores and only a couple from clothing. The sight of your bright smile made his heart burst with affection and he listened intently, still able to hear your melodic laugh over the hustle and bustle of the busy street.

He followed you at a safe distance, losing sight of the two of you as you entered the subway. Karen kept him aware of your whereabouts though, and he saw you again when you exited the subway station, now alone.

You walked a couple more blocks and entered your apartment building, but Peter only truly relaxed once he saw you entering your bedroom, having a clear view through your window.

He stayed for a few more minutes, admiring how beautiful you looked doing something as mundane as cutting tags off your newly bought clothes and throwing out the plastic wrapped around your new art supplies.

He then made his way to the Tower, where the Avengers chose to live again, for practical purposes.

“Hey everyone!” He immediately greeted his teammates after walking into the kitchen, mask off and hair slightly messy.

“Hey Pete,” The twenty-year-old witch gave him a chilled bottle of water from the fridge, already knowing that the boy would be parched.

Peter kissed her cheek and did the same to Pepper, Carol, and Morgan who were all sitting at the table playing Uno, no doubt to make the young Stark happy.

“Where is everyone?” The young spiderling asked after downing his water bottle.

“Bucky and Sam are in the gym, Bruce is messing with something in the labs, and Sharon went grocery shopping with Rhodey.” Carol set down a blue five, not even looking up from her hand. For a superhero, she sure sucked at card games.

“Oh, okay. I’m going to my room, be back to help with dinner!” He called back before walking to the elevator and pressing the button to his and May’s floor.

After everyone returned from the Blip, the Parkers lost their home and Pepper immediately offered them a floor at the Tower, not wanting her not-really-but-still-kind-of-feels-like-it son and his aunt to be living on the streets. Peter was very happy to be living with some of his favorite people in the world and very grateful for the opportunities it provided him.

He entered his room and pressed the button on his chest, the suit retracting to a simple spider pendant that hung around his neck, looking like an ordinary chain. He took it off and put it in his charging cradle before changing into a pair of grey sweatpants (your favorite though he still doesn’t understand why) and his blue Midtown sweatshirt.

He sat on his desk chair, ready to start his homework but a vibration from his phone made him postpone the task, choosing instead to open the messaging app on his custom made StarkPhone.

Princess 👑 ❤️: heyy :) Princess 👑 ❤️: can i meet you at the tower later? Princess 👑 ❤️: i want cuddles :)))

He smiled at that and immediately texted you back.

Baby🕷️ ❤️: i’ll ask Rhodey and Shar to pick you up on their way home :) Baby🕷️ ❤️: love you <3 Princess 👑 ❤️: love you more <33

He texted Sharon and after receiving confirmation that you were in the car with them, he turned his phone face down on the desk to avoid any distractions and started on his English homework, hoping to be done with it when you got here so he could cuddle in peace with his beloved girlfriend.

Twenty minutes later, he was almost done with his homework, fully engrossed in the words on the page that he had to meticulously read, highlight and analyze. He barely noticed when you entered the room, his spidey sense no longer detecting you as a threat, but took a much-needed breath of relief when he felt your hands around his shoulder, rubbing softly.

No words were needed as you kept rubbing his shoulders while he finished his homework, relishing in the soft kisses you left on the crown of his head from time to time. He finished the last sentence on his analysis and set his pen down, sighing. He closed his eyes and put his head back so it rested on your shoulder and you kissed his forehead, hands around his neck, hugging his upper body from behind.

“Cuddles now?” You asked, voice soft and soothing reaching his over-worked brain.

“Yeah, baby, let’s go.”

You kissed him on the forehead once more and took off your shirt, staying in your white lace bra and pastel pink sweatpants before laying down on the king-sized bed. You made grabby hands at him and he took off his own shirt, laying down between your legs and resting his head on your breasts. Your right hand made its way to his soft brown curls while your left rested on his upper back, hugging him close to your chest. His arms tightened around your waist and a pleased sigh left his lips, his lashes fluttering and tickling your skin as the tension rolled off of him in waves with every gentle pass of your manicured nails through his scalp.

Peter loved this position. There was really nothing sexual about it, he just loved hearing your heartbeat and feeling your colder skin against his naturally overheated one. He loved protecting the city and all of its inhabitants but here, in your arms, in this bed, he wasn’t Spider-Man, the newest Avenger. He wasn’t the Starks’ unofficially adopted kid that would take over SI alongside Morgan and Harley. He wasn’t the kid who brightened up everyone’s day and felt solely responsible for their happiness and well-being.

He was just Pete. Your Pete. Your fragile, vulnerable boyfriend who just really needed a hug, and you were more than happy to provide.

“How was your day?” He asked, voice slightly muffled because of his mouth’s position, buried in the valley of your breasts.

“Pretty good. I went to the mall with MJ after class and we bought a bunch of new clothes and art supplies for our trip to DisneyWorld.”

“Why do you need new stuff just to go to DisneyWorld?”

“I need Disney themed stuff.”

“You already have Disney themed stuff.”

“But I need new ones so that every time I see them they’ll remind me of our trip to DisneyWorld.”

He chuckled at your over-the-top-ness and nuzzled his face deeper into your chest.

“‘M hungry.”

“Must be cause you didn’t eat.”

“Did too!” He snorted at that.

“A Slurpee doesn’t count as food, princess.”

A silence enveloped the room and he felt your heartbeat quicken.

“I never told you I had a Slurpee.”

Oh shit.

“Y-Yeah, you did, you said you went to the mall with MJ to do some shopping and had a Slurpee after.” He was panicking but focused on playing it off as best as he could.

Spoiler Alert: he’s a very bad liar and can’t hide anything from you.

“No, I didn’t so how do you know that?”

He stuttered and incoherent sentence your way, trying and failing TRYING VERY HARD to defend himself.

“Have you been following me?”

Shitshitshit.

“N-No?” He hated that he couldn’t lie to you, one look at him and all his secrets would come out like some kind of verbal diarrhea.

You pushed him off your lap so the both of you were sitting up, looking at him with nothing short of hurt, confusion, and betrayal swirling in your beautiful sparkling eyes.

“Have you been taking advantage of EDITH and your powers to spy on me?”

He didn’t answer, simply hung his head, closed his eyes and waited for the blow-up that was bound to happen next... but it never came, only a broken whisper followed by a heart-breaking sob reached his ears.

“Do you not trust me?”

“What?” His head snapped up and he stared into your eyes, seeing the tears threatening to leak and cursing himself because he caused that, he caused his babygirl pain.

“W-Well if you're following me it must be because y-you don’t t-trust m-me.”

Your words were punctuated by a particularly loud sob and he quickly gathered you up in his arms, nuzzling his cheek on the top of your head soothingly and threading his fingers through your hair.

“Nonononononono, baby that’s not it, I promise.” He took your face between his hands and kissed your tear-stricken cheeks, resting his forehead on yours. “It’s just that... with everything that happened with Tony and Beck and my identity being revealed, then almost going to prison, thank God for Pepper, I just... I’m constantly worried that someone’ll come after you because of me, because of what you mean to me, and that I won’t be able to protect you and I just need to know you’re safe, always because you’re the most important person in my life and I don’t know what I’d without you, so I followed you and asked Karen to update me on your vitals every hour so I know you’re safe and alive, and real, and... I just need to know you’re safe.”

He took a deep breath after finishing his jumbled up explanation, finally shining light on the fears deeply installed within him for months.

“I can’t decide if that’s cute or something characteristic of a psychopath. Cause you wanna protect me but you do it by following me and invading my privacy.”

“Wha- psychopath?” You both burst into laughter, foreheads still resting against one another.

“Well, you’ve been following me around for a while. Do you have a camera in my bedroom?”

“No! Of course not! Just... in the lobby... and one facing your apartment door... and on your fire escape facing your window...”

His cheeks were flushed red and he was looking everywhere but at you, seemingly embarrassed by his predicament.

“You said you had Karen monitoring my vitals... how?”

“Oh, um... remember the bracelet I gave you for our six-month anniversary?”

You lifted your right wrist, cocking an eyebrow as if to say ‘this one’.

“Yeah, so um... I actually made that. It’s got nanosensors that monitor your heartbeat, blood pressure, sugar levels, emotional state and a bunch of other things along with a tracker that’s constantly activated. It’s all connected to Karen, so she can let me know whenever you’re in trouble...”

“Is that how you always know when I’m having a panic attack or when I’m on my period?” Your eyes softened up and an adoring smile graced your face when he nodded.

“You’re a dork.” You straddled him fully and properly, then kissed him on the lips softly.”But you’re my dork, and I love you. And I love that you want to keep me safe and that you’d be willing to sacrifice your dignity and do something quite illegal to make sure I stay safe.”

He smirked at you.

“You know, out of context that sounds a bit twisted.”

You rolled your eyes but smiled fondly at him.

“What can I say? From time to time, I sure do love me a bad boy.”

He smiled and kissed you on the lips, slow and passionate, filled with all his love and adoration and relief, pure and utter relief because you’re here, with him, and you know, and you don’t hate him, in fact, you love him even more.

He fell back on the bed, taking you with him as you resumed your previous position, only this time with you on top.

“So are we gonna mention that when Tony did the exact same thing to you you threw a fit and had Ned hack into the suit?”

“Shut up.”

That night, when Peter got back home after dropping you off, EDITH alerted him to movement on your fire escape. His heart was beating faster than a hummingbird’s as he pulled up the live footage but it all turned into a breathless chuckle when he saw the surveillance video.

You had put your whiteboard in such a way that it would be seen by the camera and scribbled a ‘Goodnight baby <3′ on it.

Baby🕷️ ❤️: goodnight princess <3

And this is what I do during my English and french classes... English because I don’t need to (perks of being trilingual) and french because the teacher spends the lesson talking about stuff I already know so I really don’t care.

With that said, please stay in school and listen to your teachers... do as I say, not as I do.

Anyway, I hope you liked this little one-shot. Please don’t forget to like, comment and/or reblog if you feel like it!

Love you all, Libby <3

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ackerslut · 3 years

Text

Two Bisexuals Are Your Co-Captains

ao3

“I solved racism,” Mariner says, kicking open the ready room door. This should not be physically possible, as doors have progressed past the need to be opened, and are, in fact, automatic.

Boimler, whose face is currently one with the synthetic wooden desk, gives her a thumbs up but doesn’t move beyond that.

“Okay, I lied, I didn’t solve racism,” Mariner admits. “It’s still a problem in our galaxy. But, I did solve our captain problem!” she tries. This does get Boimler to remove his face from it’s fixture on the desk.

“You did?” he blinks up at her, creases in his face from where it had been smooshed against the hard surface.

Mariner dumps an honest-to-god paper file on his desk. “Check it out, twink.”

Boimler swipes the file, frowning as nothing happens when he taps it. Mariner helps him out, flipping the cover over. “So there’s this really nifty rule back from like 2039 that allows for two acting captains to co-pilot the ship simultaneously.”

“Are you serious?” Boimler groans.

“As Legato Infection,” Mariner confirms. “It was apparently instated for missions where the crew is like. Separated or some shit and need more than one captain coordinating. Because Starfleet was also part of the air force for a while, co-captains were basically just co-pilots. Like this was a whole thing. But it got overwritten with the First Officer Act of 2048 that instated First Officers as a fill in instead of a co-captain, able to make decisions and delegate, but it was never technically outlawed. Meaning…”

“We could technically take advantage of the loophole and-”

“Co-Captains!” Mariner punches the air. “You know what this means?”

Boimler blinks at her blankly. Beckett applauds herself over the alliteration, as she throws an arm over his shoulder. “It’s our ship,” she whispers dramatically, already envisioning the communist flags with selfies of her and Boimler printed on them.

“Or it could just be your ship,” Boimler says, fear in his eyes.

Beckett grabs his collar, dragging him up to eye level. “Our ship.”

________

“Beckett no,” Freeman says flatly. Ever since The Incident--the one where the ship was overrun with the Pakleds that took out the entirety of senior command--she’s been in medbay, wrapped up in so many bandages she looks like a mummy from one of those really old movies Boimler is obsessed with.

“Beckett yes ,” Mariner says, taking a slurp of her cherry limeade slurpee. “You named me First Officer!”

“Then why does Boimler-”

“Ransom also named him First Officer!”

“So your brain jumped to Co-Captains ?” Mariner can’t see her mom’s expression, but from her squinty eyes she’s pretty sure it’s disapproving. “That is the dumbest fucking thing I’ve ever heard of.”

“You can’t call your daughter dumb!” Mariner throws her hands up in the air.

“Mariner, you’re dumb.”

“That’s against parent rules! Everything I do is supposed to be a fucking delight!”

Freeman turns her judgy eyes to Boimler, who had been staring off into the middle distance, probably traumatized by all of the shrieking the mother and daughter duo had been doing since they entered medbay. Whatever, it’s not Mariner’s fault that her mom’s kneejerk reaction to her daughter charging into medbay with a bat'leth and no shirt on was to shriek like a goddamn banshee.

“You know what,” Freeman says, eyes locked on Boimler. “I’m already having a bad fucking week. Go ahead, make it worse I dare you .”

“Uhm-”

“We absolutely will do that,” Beckett promises, crossing her heart.

_____

“ ATTENTION ALL PERSONAL ,” Mariner says, over the ship’s speakers. D’Vana, from her position at the First Officer’s station, gives her a Disappointed Look. Mariner gives her a thumbs up back.

“ DUE TO OUR EXCRUCIATING CIRCUMSTANCES AND THE LACK OF COMMUNICATION BETWEEN YOUR FORMER CAPTAIN AND HER FIRST OFFICER, ENSIGN BOIMLER AND I WILL BE YOUR CO-CAPTAINS TONIGHT. OR FOREVER, WE HAVEN’T DECIDED YET.”

“Mariner, what are you doing?” Boimler says, storming onto the Bridge. Mariner, who had hacked the Bridge speakers to play Demi Lovato’s Confident every time Boimler entered, is pleased to note that nobody had figured out how to turn that off yet. Unfortunately for her, however, Boimler didn’t recognize his girlboss powers, and had been yelling at her every time it happened.

“I’m letting the ship know about our change in command, oh Co-Captain of mine,” Mariner says over the booming bass and Demi Lovato’s dulcet tones. In the corner of her eye, the vulcan side character that everyone thought was a Cool Guy, bopped his head to the music.

Boimler sighs, pressing his palms into his eyes. “So we’re actually doing this?”

“Dude, I already made us friendship jackets. That shit had a no refunds policy.” She pulls a leather jacket that had been draped over their helmsman's head--bad for ship navigation, but good for dramatic effect--and throws it at Boimler. Boimler unfolds the pink monstrosity, sighing deeply at the neon-yellow glitter words Gatekeep Girlboss Gaslight emblazoned on the back.

“Is this really necessary?”

“It’s ABSOLUTELY necessary,” Mariner says, standing up. She turns around, showing Boimler her purple jacket which says Malewife Mansplain Manipulate in snot-green glitter.

“HOW DOES THAT MATCH.”

“WHAT DO YOU MEAN HOW DOES THAT MATCH.” Her voice echoes strangely, alerting her to the fact that the shipwide comms are still in use. She reaches over, flicking the switch off and turns back to Boimler, hands on her hips. “Is this an anxiety thing again? Do you need to go back on medication?”

“I don’t need to be on meds!”

“Then why won’t you wear our super secret special jackets!”

“Because mine is hot pink and says girlboss on the back!”

Mariner lets out a gasp. “Are you saying... Boimler are you adhering to GENDER ROLES?”

“No-no stop it -”

“You! You of ALL PEOPLE-”

“Mariner, cut it out!”

“LET IT BE KNOWN THAT BRAD BOIMLER IS A-”

Boimler pulls the jacket on so violently that he somehow elbows himself in the eye. The pink really does go with his hair-which Mariner knows for a fact he dyes himself every three weeks. “There! Happy?”

“So so happy.” Mariner hands him a martini from the tray she had brought in and nailed to the arm of the captain’s chair. The one she hands to Boimler has a rainbow umbrella in it. “So, first order of business. I think we need car seats for short people.”

“Excuse me.”

Mariner picks up her own martini glass and takes a chug, choking on the strawberry chunks she had grinded into it a few minutes before Boimler got here. “You know, car seats? That shit you put babies in because cars are a danger to humanity but we keep buying them? I think the shorties on this ship deserve some protection.”

Boimler drains his glass. “Fine, whatever, I don’t even care anymore.”

______

Mariner is commissioning the previously mentioned communist flags with hers and Boimler’s faces printed on them, when Tendi comes into the ready room. She is wearing the face of complete and utter defeat that everyone else had been wearing since the Co-Captains had been instated. Mariner insists it’s because they’re sad that she and Boimler wouldn’t get to be captains forever. Boimler says it’s because everyone’s writing their suicide notes to their familes.

“Mariner, we need to talk,” Tendi says, using the opening line to every break up Mariner’s been a part of and seen on tv. Which is really weird because she didn’t think she and Tendi were in a relationship.

“I’m all ears,” Mariner says, which is a dumb fucking line because clearly she isn’t , but people say that all the time.

“I don’t want to be your First Officer,” Tendi says, crossing her arms. “It was fun for the first week, but after you made it mandatory to do the Macarena during the first ten minutes of each hour, morale has been down.”

“Hmm,” Mariner pets Boimler’s therapy cat, Dishwasher, thoughtfully. “Okay, I’ll make that one optional. Any other requests?”

Tendi sighs. “No,” she admits. “To be honest, the ship is running at 98%, which is the highest any ship in Starfleet has ever run. I think Brad orgasmed when he heard about that.”

“You call him Brad ?” Mariner stares up at her friend, aghast.

“That’s his name?”

“Yeah, and his cat’s name is Dishwasher , but that doesn’t mean it’s a good idea to call her that!” Dishwasher growls at her name. Mariner shushes her, hands clamped over her ears. “She turns into a murder-rage machine when you call her by her given name! How do we know Boimler isn’t the same?”

“Because I call him Brad all the time!” Tendi hisses back, throwing her hands up in the air.

“Oh my god, he’s probably serial killing as we speak. I hope you’re ready to talk to the victim’s families and let them know that their loved one’s died because you couldn’t help yourself.”

Tendi stares at Mariner for a full minute. “Resignation,” she reiterates, pointing at Mariner. “I want to be a gross ensign scrubbing the deck again. Nepotism sucks .”

“Fine, you’re demoted. Go enjoy mediocrity.”

“I will.” Tendi storms out, kicking the door shut. Which again, is completely, 100% impossible because it’s the 23rd century or whatever-Mariner’s not keeping count-and automatic doors are now a Thing.

Mariner hacks their speaker systems to play the Wii Shop Channel Music-a reliac of the past only alluded to on private groupchats and servers- to play whenever Tendi entered a room. It’s the least she could do.

______

“As your First Officer,” a reluctant Rutherford says reluctantly, “I am here to remind you that that would be a very bad idea .”

“Rutherford, who’s the boss around here?” Mariner asks, hands on her hips.

Rutherford sighs. “You.”

“And as the boss, who makes all the decisions around here?”

Another sigh. “ You .”

“Then why are you being a killjoy over my decision to get down and dirty with my Co-Captain?”

Rutherford makes a shriek-y noise, like those boys who got their testicles cut off in the old days so they could sing opera. “Mariner, I’m serious, don’t do it .”

“Is it against regulation?”

“No,” Rutherford groans. “You’re both the same rank-”

“So what’s the problem?”

“You can’t sleep with Boimler just because you can!”

“That’s not why I’m going to sleep with Boimler,” Mariner waves him off. “I was sitting on his lap the other day-”

“Oh my god -”

“-in the Captain's chair--ooh we should look into getting another one of those, TWO chairs are better than one--”

“Mariner, to the point please.”

“Oh, yeah, so I’m in his lap and I maay have backed up a little too far and bumped up against-”

“Stop literally stop .”

“Yeah, so turns out Boimler is PACKING and I gotta hop on that train, so to speak.”

“Okay, you know what?” Rutherford shoves his padd at Mariner. “I quit, I can’t do this. I want to be a lower decks ensign again.”

“Wow, you’re like, the seventeenth person this week to quit. Which, coincidentally, is exactly how long I’ve been captain.”

“Yeah, weird coincidence,” Rutherford deadpans.

_____

“I may have fucked up, Mom,” Mariner shrieks, waltzing into medbay with all the grace of a duck pulling off a white bread heist. “I think you should take captaincy back.”

Freeman, who had fully recovered two days ago, but refused to engage in the chaos Mariner was purposely causing on her ship, looks up from where she’s reclining with her long island ice tea and swimwear magazines. “Really now?”

“ Yes . All of my friends hate me and I found out Boimler has purple pubs.”

Freeman almost drops her drink. “ What .”

“Tell me about it. Don’t get me wrong, we’re still fucking, but like. Wow, I thought he dyed everything. Turns out that shit is natural.”

Freeman covers her face with one hand. “No.”

“What?”

“No, you’re keeping the ship.”

“WHAT.”

“I already spoke to your father,” Freeman gives her daughter a shark-like smile. “We agreed that this position of authority has been good for you. And, considering, the ship is running better than any ship in Starfleet since the inception of the Federation, the Admiralty wants you and Boimler to stay on.”

“ WHAT .”

“They think it’s an interesting social experiment that merits more research. Congratulations, you and your fuck-buddy are now ginnypigs.”

___

“I think, as a sign of protest, we should rename the ship,” Mariner says, draped across the desk in the ready room. Boimler, sprawled out all over the desk chair, snorts. The room has been completely revamped in pride flags and the previously mentioned communist flags. Mariner thinks it’s her best interior design work, but Boimler claims it’s an eyesore.

“What would we name it?” he asks, humoring her.

Mariner considers it, taking a swig of vodka. “Okay, hear me out. Q and Picard’s Loveboat.”

Boimler grabs the bottle out of her hand, taking a chug. “You know what? This might as well happen.”

They submit the formal request on Boimler’s padd a few minutes later and are both pleasantly-at least in Mariner’s case-surprised that it goes through. It’s likely that the guy in charge of filtering these requests is either very very bored or very very underpaid and either way Mariner likes his energy.

A few days later, they have Q AND PICARD’S LOVEBOAT stamped across the side of the ship in comic sans-a truly underappreciated font from ye olden days that Mariner dug up one night on the wayback machine.

It takes exactly four weeks for the Admiralty to catch wind of it-by then she and Boimler had been Co-Captains for almost two months-and, well, there isn’t much they can do about it.

She does receive a rather long voicemail from her dad that she promptly deletes. She’s not about that energy.

_____

“Boims, Boims, Boims,” Mariner chants, crawling into his bed. Boimler lets out a shriek as her ice cold toes slide up against his bare thigh.

“So you know how our ship got renamed so easily?” she says, once Boimler had stopped screaming. “Well, I found the dude who approved it. Nice kid, I want his gender. Anyway, looks like my dad is getting a new ship and they're getting someone to christen it.”

“Oh my god,” Boimler says faintly, turning his face into his pillow.

“I may have gotten us on the list of possible people to christen it. As in, the kid hacked the server for me and we're the only people on that list.”

Boimler looks like he's regretting everything ever. He also looks like he's kind of in love with her. Mariner inspires that kind of duality in people. “What are we going to name it?” his voice has a tinge of fear in it that both of them get off on. The kink is strong with this couple.

Mariner grins.

_______

THE DADMIRAL: ACT OF REBELLION OR GENIUS?

Ash H. Beiggs

Many of you may remember the highly criticized decision Starfleet made when instating “Co-Captains” on the starship Q and Picard’s Loveboat ( formally known as the USS CERRITOS). Well, Captains Bradward P. Boimler and Beckett E. Mariner are back with bigger and bolder headlines to make.

The chaotic young duo are renowned Federation-wide not only for running the tightest ship in Starfleet, but for their unorthodox methods. Captain Mariner in particular has been praised for her innovating thinking and usual personality. When asked about her decision to name Admiral Mariner’s ship The Dadmiral she simply claimed that “Mohammad had his mountain, Jesus had his followers and [she] had a molotov cocktail and nothing to lose.” Captain Boimler declined to comment.

The actual christening of The Dadmiral was reported as a “spectacle to behold” by many onlookers. Captain Mariner was seen streaking through the aforementioned ship, with a bottle of vodka in one hand. Her Co-Captain was not far behind her, but was reportably more restrained. The actual christening was completed by Captain Mariner who “yeeted the vodka” into the ships warp core, shouting “ One of us. One of us,” in rapid succession until she was removed by security.

Neither Admiral Mariner or Captain Freeman are available to comment at this time.

#i hate this fic but also it was The Most Fun To Write #stld crack #stld fanfic #my fic #marinler #brad boimler #beckett mariner #carol freeman #d'vana tendi #sam rutherford #star trek lower decks #star trek lower decks fanfic

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amoderndreamletdown · 3 years

Note

20. You broke into a 7/11 for willex would be really funny. Have a fantastic day by the way!

Thank you, I hope you have a fantastic day as well. This was so much fun to write!

“What’s the craziest thing you’ve ever done?” Willie asked Alex. They were holding hands and sitting at the top of one of the ramps at a skate park. It wasn’t the most romantic date Alex had been on, but he didn’t really care. Just Willie being there was enough for him.

Alex shrugged. “I dated Luke. He was pretty crazy.”

Willie laughed. “Oh come on, Hot dog, that’s nothing. Everyone has dated someone crazy.”

Alex shrugged. “Yeah, I guess. What about you? What’s the craziest thing you’ve ever done?”

Willie thought for a moment then said, “I broke into a 7/11 once.”

Alex’s mouth flew open. “Y- you broke into a 7/11?”

“Yeah,” Willie said. “About a year before I died. It closed at eleven and I wanted a Slurpee.”

“So you broke into 7/11 for a Slurpee?” Alex asked.

“Well, yeah,” Willie said. “It was pretty easy. There weren’t many security cameras in the ‘80s.”

“Did you get caught?” Alex asked.

Willie shook his head. “No. The police didn’t even really bother looking. It wasn’t like breaking into 7/11 was a huge deal.”

“So no one cared?” Alex asked.

“No,” Willie answered. “It wasn’t like I smashed a window or anything, I just picked the lock on the door.”

“What did you pick the lock with?” Alex asked, curiously.

“A hair pin,” Willie answered honestly.

“Seriously?” Alex asked.

“Seriously,” Willie confirmed.

“I thought that was just something that happened in movies,” Alex added. “Not in real life.”

Willie smiled. “I thought so too. Until, ya know, I did it myself.”

“Did you get your Slurpee?” Alex asked.

“Of course I did,” Willie said.

“What flavor?” Alex asked.

“Coke and cherry,” Willie answered. “The two best flavors.”

Alex’s nose scrunched up. “I’d have to disagree with you there.”

“And what do you think the best flavors are?” Willie asked.

“The best flavor is blue raspberry, obviously,” Alex said.

“Yeah, no way, man,” Willie disagreed.

“Yes way,” Alex said.

“Fine,” Willie said. “There’s only one way to settle this.”

A few seconds later and Willie and Alex had poofed to the front of a 7/11.

“We’re at 7/11?” Alex asked, confused.

“Of course,” Willie said. “How else would we settle this debate?”

Willie grabbed Alex’s hand and led him inside. The boys went straight for the Slurpee machine, and each grabbed a cup.

“Wow,” Willie said. “There’s a lot more flavors than when I was alive.”

“Yeah,” Alex said. “And how do you expect to eat them? We don’t have stomachs and we’re not at Caleb’s club.”

Willie shivered. “Don’t remind me of that place. And I know that. That’s why we’re gonna bring both Slurpees to Julie and have her decide.”

Alex thought for a moment. He hated to bother Julie with something as stupid as a debate about Slurpees, but then he thought about all the dumb stuff Reggie and Luke bothered her with and decided maybe this wasn’t so bad.

“Fine,” Alex said. “But don’t be upset when she agrees with me.”

“In your dreams,” Willie scoffed.

Alex and Willie both filled their Slurpee cups with their respective favorite flavors. Then, they both poofed into the stupid.

Julie jumped a bit when they appeared. She was playing the piano, but Luke and Reggie were nowhere in sight.

“Where are Luke and Reggie?” Alex asked.

Julie shrugged. “Said they were going to some concert. What are you guys doing back here?”

“We, um, we sort of got into a bit of a disagreement,” Alex said.

“Oh,” Julie said. “What about?”

“Well, Willie mentioned that he, um, he broke into a 7/11 once to steal a Slurpee, so then we got into a fight over the best Slurpee flavor, but we can’t actually drink them and see which is truly better, so now we’re here,” Alex said.

“Wait, back up, Willie broke into a 7/11?” Julie asked, shocked.

Willie shrugged. “It was a long time ago. Now here.”

Willie and Alex both handed her their Slurpees and Julie took a sip of both of them.

“These are both amazing,” Julie said.

“Yeah, but what’s your favorite?” Willie asked.

“If I had to choose,” Julie said, looking between both of them. “Blue raspberry.”

“Yes!” Alex said. “I told you.”

Willie smiled and rolled his eyes. “Whatever, Hot dog.”

Alex smiled in triumph. “Blue raspberry is the best. Right, Julie?”

“Actually,” Julie said. “My favorite flavor is grape.”

“They have grape Slurpees?” Willie asked, shocked.

Julie nodded. “Yeah, they’re really good.”

“So you agree with neither of us?” Alex asked.

Julie shook her head. “Nope, you’re both wrong, but I’m keeping the Slurpees.”

And with that, Julie walked out of the studio leaving Alex and Willie alone.

“Well that sucks,” Alex said, going over to sit on the couch. Willie followed him, and held onto his hand.

“Yeah,” Willie said. “But, ya know, we can disagree about some things. I mean, everyone has a different favorite Slurpee flavor.”

“Yeah,” Alex said. “I guess you’re right.”

Willie smiled. “Of course I am.”

Alex rolled his eyes, and then quickly kissed Willie on the cheek.

“There’s a first time for everything,” Alex joked.

“Hey!” Willie said. “I’m right about a lot of stuff.”

“Like what?” Alex asked.

“Like the fact that you’re cute,” Willie said. “And you have the prettiest eyes I’ve ever seen.”

Alex smiled. “Is that so?”

Willie smiled. “Of course it is.”

“Prove it,” Alex said.

And just like that, Willie had placed his lips on Alex’s. At first, Alex was shocked even though he was the one who had suggested it in the first place, but, within a second or two, Alex kissed back. It was the best moment of his life. Happiness and energy shrugged through him, and, when they broke away, gasping for air, he smiled the happiest smile he had in a long time.

“Wow,” Alex said.

“Wow is right,” Willie agreed.

#willex #jatp #julie and the phantoms

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the-creative-lounge-blog · 4 years

Text

Third Shift Kakashi - A Lounge Round Robin Story

In this modern AU in-server event for November, Loungers tell the tale of Kakashi's night shift at a convenience store/gas station one sentence at a time.

What is a round robin story? A round robin story is a story that is written by multiple people. Participants take turns contributing a sentence. The last sentence is sent to the next person, who adds their sentence, and then the process repeats through an established amount of time (our event lasted one week).

Participants in Third Shift Kakashi were contacted via DM with the last sentence, and they replied with one new sentence.

Often, round robin stories don’t make sense and they’re meant to make us laugh. To ensure this, a ridiculous topic was chosen from among the MANY fantastic plot bunnies that are Kakashi Lounge-originals:

Third shift Kakashi: Our favorite tired ninja dork punches in at 10pm to begin his third shift at the 7-11 (or Speedway, Circle K, Kwik Trip, or your country's equivalent of a 24-hour gas station/convenience store). Strange things happen during his nightshift but participants decide what those things are. The Slurpee machine gains sentience. Ōtsutsuki aliens land in the parking lot. Cheeto-fingers Obito tries to steal jerky. Deidara tries to use a fake ID to buy beer. Granny Chiyo comes in and pays with pennies. Any and all of these are believable occurrences from 10pm-6am, and more. The weirder, the better.

The only rules were to keep it rated T, and no romantic pairings.

This dumpster fire masterpiece of a round robin story was written by: @maiikawriter, @fleuraison7, Kitera_Matar, /vastments, @mouseymightymarvellous, @thetoxicstrawberry, @myaekingheart, @mallml, @nibbler747, @syusukewrites, @asiriyep, @azuzel23, @tenzosnewleaf, and @hkandiu (all contributed sentences are in italics and each are double-spaced) with opening and closing paragraphs written by @ohayohimawari:

Kakashi sighed as he punched in twelve minutes late to his shift. He’d been late enough times to warrant a written warning from management, but that threat was nothing compared to what he experienced during his overnight shifts at Konoha’s 24/7 convenience store. He pulled his book out of his back pocket with more hope than expectation that he’d actually find time to read amidst the strange things that occurred between 10 pm and 6 am.

Yukiko and her lover were just getting around to second base and ready to confess their love in this chapter when he’d had to leave for work.

Kakashi pocketed the worn Icha Icha volume reluctantly, hoping for a quiet shift so that he could dive into it again later, and took his prepared bag to head out to his workplace.

Kakashi walked through the store, prepared bag in hand, Icha Icha in his pocket, and sighed as he saw the repeat customer hovering by the front counter.

“No, Naruto, we still haven’t received the limited edition Gutsy Shinobi ramen cups; I told you I’ll call you if we get them.”

Kakashi never heard Naruto’s reply, because his voice was suddenly drowned out by the deep growl of engines pulling into the station, and any hope he had for an uneventful shift was dashed just as quickly as Naruto’s chance of indulging in the delicious goodness of Gutsy Shinobi ramen with the arrival of the Akatsuki Biker Gang.

The group of delinquents strolled into the store as if they owned the place, all sporting matching black leather jackets with red cloud patches on the shoulders and back--an omen that things were about to go south very quickly.

Without seeming to lift his eyes from his book, Kakashi sighed to himself as he watched them clumsily stuff candy bars and Slim Jims under their jackets... were the Akatsuki having an initiation night?

Should he bother confronting them? The long expired Slim Jims they were about to partake in might be punishment enough.

Kakashi put on his best fake customer service smile and didn't say anything - whatever they were stealing, he wasn't paid enough to care.

He sighed. ‘Sir, if you lick the candy bars one more time it’s a week ban. Not so funny when you can’t get those stale nachos, huh?’

Just to prove his point, and maybe because he was feeling a bit exasperated by now, Kakashi carefully unwrapped a candy bar of his own and inhaled the whole thing in two seconds beneath his mask - leaving the visitor stunned, staring wide-eyed with new appreciation at the silver-haired man’s obvious authority on the subject of candy-bar licking.

"Ew," Naruto reminded Kakashi of his presence at the same time that Deidara tried to sneak a six-pack of Budweiser beneath his shirt, so he changed tack to deal with the Akatsuki Biker Gang because he wanted to keep his loyal customers.

Although, 'loyal customers' was a bit of a stretch at times; yes, they frequented the place often, but more often than not they also gave him quite the headache.

He was too tired for this shit at this hour of the day.

Kakashi did what he was best at - feigning boredom and being unaffected by what was happening in the hope that the problem solved itself.

Kakashi pulled out his beloved Icha Icha and proceeded to hide behind the vivid orange cover as he ignored the problem happening in front of him.

The Akatsuki biker gang couldn’t be so easily ignored, as Hidan proved when he snatched the orange book from Kakashi’s hand.

“I’m sorry, sir,” Kakashi said pleasantly, his best customer service smile sharp as blades under his mask, “but that’s not for sale.”

Hidan squinted and flipped the book sideways in a gesture that made Kakashi think he had never held a book before, let alone read one, and Kakashi’s eyes flicked to the closed-circuit camera in the corner as he contemplated forgoing his service training in order to retrieve it, but stopped when he noticed the suspicious red smudges that the man’s fingertips left behind on the cover of his cherished Icha Icha.

It was too bright to be anything ominous - in fact, it matched the same shade as the cherry-flavored Slurpee they offered - but Kakashi wasn’t about to let Hidan slide on stealing a mouthful of frozen delight, or marring his favorite book, so he growled, “You owe me two dollars for the drink and a new copy of Icha-Icha.”

"Two dollars!--look, I'd pay ya, but my partner's a real Stooge [sic] with the purse strings... how 'bout I make it up to you in the stock room instead, if you know what I mean?" the gray-haired religious fetishist suggested with a waggle of eyebrows.

Kakashi considered the offer as it would lessen his shift duties and afford more time to read, however, just then his, Naruto’s, and every head belonging to the Akatsuki biker gang turned to the main entrance when the cheerful ding sounded announcing the arrival of another repeat customer, Granny Chiyo, with her fists full of scratch-off lottery tickets.

Granny Chiyo, was a legend not just for being the bad-ass take no names grandmother of one of the more dangerous Akatsuki gang members, but also for being thrifty. She slammed the scratch off lottery tickets on the counter, and reached into her jacket and pulled out Kakashi's most dreaded item - the jar of pennies.

She placed the jar on the counter with a loud clunk before reaching inside and pulling out pennies one by one, counting them on the counter under her breath. "This will only take a moment" she assured him, "I want to be precise!"

Kakashi took in the mayhem around him with a glazed 100-meter stare. There'd been worse nights, right? No machetes yet, right? All he needed was to make it to break time and have a smoke. 10 minutes.. Kakashi inhaled deeply and cleared his throat 'Take ALL the time you need Ma'am.' He shouldn't get involved right? He needed to man the till, right?

Kakashi smiled at Chiyo who was determined to pay for her weird collection of knickknacks with a gajillion pennies, but couldn't help glancing at the security camera that showed an energetic teenager mid-dance battle with the local biker gang; the only thing more bizarre would be Gai showing up to join them and to be honest he wouldn't be surprised.

The universe was not about to pass over an opportunity like that; if Kakashi had learned anything in his long years, it was that the best way to handle the sudden burst of GREEN and NOISE that assaulted his senses (out of seemingly nowhere) was to remain calm and tip a casual “Yo” to his rival while keeping an eye on Chiyo, the teenager, the biker gang, and the dance battle all at once... Gai would probably join the dance battle in a few minutes anyway.

Because, hello my dear, he wasn't going to leave his dignity in pieces. Better dead than ridiculous ... Although maybe ...?

He ran a hand through his already unruly hair as he rolled his shoulders, getting ready for whatever lay ahead; a quick glance at the clock confirmed his shift still had a long ways to go.

There was no time to relax when the biker gang was already making a move on some products, thinking he wouldn’t notice.

Kakashi decided that losing his job over a bunch of tough dudes acting like broke teenagers wasn't worth it, so he strode over to them first; maybe Gai would help him if they got violent - not that Kakashi would need help with that though.

And that was when it all exploded as Gai joined the dance battle causing them to knock over a display onto the Akatsuki teenage biker gang who exploded in rage causing both the aged Chiyo and Naruto to get knocked to the ground.

Kakashi in panic rushed to Naruto almost running over the old Chiyo and got out his flute then started to bang in on poor knocked-out Naruto's head, the Akatsuki teenage biker gang all nodded as they understood that it was an extremely necessary step of Cardiopulmonary resuscitation.

Gai—either unconcerned, not noticing the damage, or convinced that anything can be solved with the power of dance—dropped to the ground in an impressive worm, once more pulling the attention of the Akatsuki members.

Instigated by the impromptu dance party, the eccentric masked Akatsuki member jumped up onto a tower of canned diet Coke and started beat boxing, and Kakashi could only watch in horror as Gai’s worm morphed into break dancing.

Kakashi sighed and rubbed his tired eyes from behind the counter as he watched Gai break dance down the snack aisle to the rhythm of the masked man's beatboxing, onlookers pumping their fists and cheering as another Akatsuki gang member started to rap about how "art is an explosion."

'What the hell,' was the thought that echoed through Kakashi's aching head with increasing volume; what the hell indeed?--and as he ripped off his red vest and leapt to the top of the counter, the crowd, one by one, turned toward him and fell silent: the cheering onlookers, the masked beat-boxer, the pony-tailed blond... until, at last, the only sound and movement was the frenzied tricking of Gai as the spandex-clad man danced on, unaware.

As he crouched on the counter he wasn’t sure if he wanted to go through with this - but desperate times called for desperate measures. He grabbed a Slim Jim and held it up as a mic. There was only one song that would shut them up.

Kakashi started the song softly, but got louder with each word, one hand leading the dance as he ever so slightly got closer to the crowd and then- 3am really was the witching hour, huh? - the crowd joined his dance and with each Ey macarena they were inching a little closer towards the exit in perfect synchrony.

Just then, Naruto regained consciousness and after blinking several times at the chaotic crowd, exclaimed, “What happened to the old lady that was here?”

Kakashi dropped the Slim Jim mic at these words, and glanced where Chiyo had once stood only to find a list of her purchases and her payment-the jar of pennies-waiting to be counted. He ran a hand down his face, noticed the mess below the dripping slurpee machine, spied Deidara passed out in a corner with empty beer cans around him, Kisame and Itachi not-so-secretly pocketing sunglasses, while Hidan sang and Gai danced on with abandon.

Irritably grabbing the mop for what would not be the last time that night, Kakashi unceremoniously stepped over Naruto.

Kakashi briefly considered whether or not this job was really worth the $7.25 per hour it paid him, before surreptitiously mopping himself within a meter of Itachi and Kisame, who he surprised with a heavy “Thwack!” of the mop handle across the backs of both their legs, causing them each to drop a pair of sunglasses and clap their hands across their backsides to smooth the stinging sensation.

He laughed devilishly, enjoying the momentary respite from the craziness of the shift and the antics of his so-called customers; was anyone actually buying anything tonight?

No matter, they didn’t need to, as long as they would get out.

But they just wouldn't get out, so Kakashi had to take more drastic measures - the fire alarm would get him into trouble with his employer, faking a power failure seemed like a safe option though, so he went over to the power box, turned off the main switch and listened with a deep satisfaction to the surprised screams and commotions in the shop.

“Lights are out,” Kakashi stated obviously, walking carefully back towards the register, “so if everybody could put any unpurchased items down and carefully head towards the still illuminated exit signs, that would be greatly appreciated.”

There was a moment of silence, followed by murmuring, and then the faint crumpling sound of what was either plastic encased items being set aside, or even more likely, being concealed in pockets.

While Kakashi knew that letting customers get away with stealing would come back to haunt him if and when his boss found out, at this rate he quite frankly couldn't even care--and besides, with all the lights off, he doubted the security cameras would pick up anything anyway.

As the subdued miscreants groped blindly to the door, illuminated only by the impassive green of the EXIT sign, Kakashi breathed a sigh of relief that his shift was finally winding down--that is, until the resounding BOOM that echoed from the front parking lot.

The screech of tires, the thundering bass, it was a sound he was only too familiar with - it could only be one man.

Finally, finally the whole bunch was gone, only to be replaced by the loudest most obnoxious person he could think of, but Killer B was a regular and as such Kakashi had to endure his bad rapping.

Kakashi threw his head back and softly yeeted with fingers pointed skywards "Pew, pew pew! Fxxx my life!"

As the giant strode inside, clapped his hands on the countertop at the register and whooped “Yo! Bakayaro! Konoyaro! Kakashi, better watch me, can’t copy me, yeeeahhh!” the shopkeep wondered where this cheerful monster had been earlier, when so many folks were acting the fool (no doubt Killer Bee would have assisted him in wiping the floor with two or five of the previous visitors); “Bee, my man, you have no idea the kind of night I’ve been having...”

Unfortunately for Kakashi, Bee had become distracted by a motion sensor dancing sunflower, and took its song as a challenge for a mini rap battle.

"Yo, this flower's got moves! Look at it swaying while I spit some rad tunes!" Bee enthused and all Kakashi could manage in reply was a tired "You should've seen the dance battle earlier."

Lifting up his sunglasses to peer more closely at Kakashi's face--how was he able to see with those on in the middle of the night? the silveret wondered--B yelled concernedly, "Yo man, feeling tired? Uninspired? Say no more! Let's hit the door!" and, heedless of Kakashi's terrified recoil, scooped the smaller man up under his arm and boogied them to his ride, parked across three spaces in the parking lot.

“What is the meaning of this?” The assistant shift supervisor, Danzo, showed up at the door, with Konoha’s 24/7 general manager, Hiruzen, right behind him.

“Um—” Kakashi began, and ended because there was no explaining it.

“You’re fi—”

“I quit!” Kakashi shouted, silencing Danzo.

Bee brandished a peace sign while Kakashi offered a much ruder gesture and the pair took off in search of an after party, or a nap.

Just then, Naruto-whom everyone forgot about-stepped out from behind an endcap of ramen cups. “Does this mean you’re hiring?”

Hiruzen smiled, “I’ll get you an application.”

The End

Do you have an idea for a title? Add it in the replies to this post!

#the kakashi lounge #Kakashi #kakashi hatake #hatake kakashi #Modern AU #round robin story #third shift kakashi #the man is tired #strange things are afoot #the akatsuki biker gang #gai does the worm #the power of dance #killer bee raps #did anyone actually buy anything?#penny-pincher chiyo #naruto was there the whole time #server event #server shenanigans

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billhaderplsholdme · 4 years

Text

starting to work at the movie theater with college!bill

warnings: swearing, that’s p much it

- you were drowning in student loan debt so you needed to pick up a part time job to cover some of the expenses

- you applied everywhere: the coffee shop, the local diner, your favorite restaurant... and the only place you were able to even get an interview at was the shitty movie theater at the shopping center

- you didn’t mind since you loved movies but it definitely wasn’t your first choice

- on your first day it was really slow and there was only one other person working

- your manager walked you to the concessions stand and yelled over at the boy working the popcorn machine, “hey bill, doesn’t look like it’s gonna be too busy tonight. could you train her?”

- bill turned to look where you were standing and you couldn’t help but swoon

- he was so cute and had the prettiest curly hair you’ve ever seen

- you were snapped out of your thoughts when he walked up to you and held his hand out

- “sorry, what?” you said, blushing so hard you felt like a tomato

- bill just smiled, “I said I’m bill, what’s your name?”

- “oh, sorry. I’m y/n. nice to meet you.” you shook his hand. you felt butterflies in your stomach at the contact but you shook them off, reminding yourself that this is your co-worker and you literally just met

- he walks you over behind the counter and goes over the general stuff

- “so uh, this is how they say you should make the popcorn, but I always put a little more butter because why not” he shrugs and pours more than he should

- you laughed and nodded along, entranced by his voice and distracted by how cute he was

- you weren’t even sure if you were gonna remember anything he taught you because you couldn’t stop staring

- “uhh, the slurpee machine, pretty simple. you just pull down and it shits out all the slurpee you need. my favorite mixture is the cherry and Mountain Dew. kinda my special recipe. wanna try?”

- you nod and he grins, grabbing a water cup and filling it up with the perfect amount of cherry and mountain dew slurpee, handing it to you, “just don’t do this in front of the managers, they go batshit crazy whenever we drink the slurpees”

- your hands brush when he hands you the cup and you get goosebumps. you take a sip and it’s so fucking good. “holy shit”

- he laughs, “right?!”

- after he finishes teaching you the rest of the basics, you guys get to talking.

- it’s a Wednesday night so there was really no one there, which was great because no customers came to interrupt you two.

- you guys talk about your favorite movies, what movies you’re looking forward to... all that jazz

- you guys flip out when you mention that the evil dead movies are some of your favorites, and end up talking about that for like 30 minutes straight

- then he makes fun of you for not having seen back to the future yet

- “WHAT THE FUCK? are you fuckin nuts?! how are you alive right now?”

- “I’ve just never gotten around to it!”

- “oh so you can watch 16 candles everyday but never watch one of the greatest movies of all time?”

- you laughed, slightly embarrassed but knowing he was joking

- “ok.. what about... Airplane?” he asks

- you grimace out of embarrassment as you look at him

- he flips out again, “WHAT?! that’s like, the funniest movie of all time man. you gotta watch it.”

- you promise you will and smile at him

- he goes, “okay, you know what? make a list of every classic movie you haven’t seen yet and I can have you over to watch them if you want”

- you were shocked by his confidence and the fact that he wanted to hang out with you outside of work, especially having just met. “really?”

- he just shrugs, like it’s nothing. “really!”

- you smile wide, “...okay”

- you were about to make this list as long as possible just so you could spend more time with him

- suddenly, your manager walks up to you guys, “alright, you two are good to clock out for the night. hope bill didn’t bore you to death there, y/n”

- bill raised his arms, “what did I ever do to you man?”

- you laughed and bill walked with you to clock out, grabbing his jacket and throwing it on while you guys walked out to the parking lot.

- you awkwardly point to your car, “well... this is me.”

- he chuckles, “no way, I’m parked here too! what a coincidence”

- you couldn’t help but laugh. why was he so damn charming?!

- he takes out his phone, “here, why don’t we exchange numbers so we can schedule our film festival?”

- you laugh and pull yours out, handing your phones to each other to exchange information

- you got yours back and saw that he saved his contact name under “bill (your movie jedi)” you laugh and look up at him

- “get it? cause like, you’re kinda the padawan in this situation but instead of the force it’s movies?”

- you burst out laughing at how cute but nerdy that was

- he puts his hands up laughing and goes, “I thought it would be funny, man. sorryyyyyy for making a perfect connection right there.”

- you reassure him, “no, it was great. I promise.”

- he laughs, he almost looks relieved. like he wanted you to like his joke.

- you cut in, “alright, well I better get going. thanks for uh, you know. training me and stuff. and talking about movies. not a bad first day”

- he smiles, “no problem. remember to send me that list, okay?”

- “I will! okay, uh bye..” you hold out your hand for him to shake, but to your surprise one of his arms pulls you in for a hug

- “sorry, I’m a hugger,” and pulls back casually. “alright, goodnight y/n, see ya soon.”

- you lose your mind over the fact that he just hugged you and can’t find the words to say, so you just smile and wave, then he turns around towards his car, walking in the opposite direction

- you turned on your heels quickly and started giddily walking to your car. oh my god oh my god oh my god

- you get in and rest your head on the steering wheel, smiling so hard your cheeks hurt.

- maybe working at the movie theater wouldn’t be so bad

#bill hader #bill hader x reader #headcanon #headcanons #bill hader x you #self insert #fluff

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