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ilyasorokinn · 10 months

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where you lead i will follow , mat barzal

note, hello! here is it! my summer 2023 fic exchange! thank you to @wyattjohnston for putting together another amazing exchange! you are so slay! this fic is for @prettytoxicrevolver! i hope this is as slay as you hoped for and i hope you enjoy! so, i love gilmore girls too, and have a fic inspired by luke and lorelai coming soon, so i instead went with jess and rory because i am a jess girl. if you aren't, argue to a wall cause i don't care. this is loosely based on their relationship, this isn't them. just wanted to clarify. another note, sorry there are a lot of time jumps just cause i'm lazy, but i promise this is still very slay. pair, mat barzal x reader summary, mat barzal is new to town, sort of. a town he didn't want to be in. after not so good press towards the end of the season in new york, during the off-season, the team decides to send him to ivory lake, a small town where his uncle lives, just until everything dies down. the first night he's there, his uncle forces him to go dinner at his not-girlfriend's house. there, he meet's her daughter, and he realizes he has more in common with her than he thinks. warnings, none :) word count, 5175 words (this is longer than i expected lol)

(gif not mine)

As soon as Mat stepped out of the taxi, he knew he would rather be anywhere else, "Mat." His uncle Milo greeted him stiffly as he stepped off the bus.

"Milo." Mat greeted, a flat expression on his face.

"You can call me Uncle Milo, you know." Milo attempted.

"Right." Mat nodded, making his way to the back of the taxi and grabbing all his bags.

"Well, let's get you home." Milo capped his hands and grabbed one of Mat's bags and leading him towards his apartment. Milo set Mat's bags down in the room he had designated as Mat's, "All right, well you get unpacked. My friend Lauren invited us over for dinner tonight."

"And you're telling me why?"

Milo sighed, "Because you're coming along, and you can't say no." Mat sighed, "Oh, and by the way, no one knows who you are here."

"They don't?" Mat asked.

"I don't think anyone in Ivory watches hockey." Milo chuckled, "Anyways, your secret is safe with me." Milo reassured him, then walked down the hall, leaving Mat alone in his new room in a town he didn't know anything about full of people who had no idea who he was or why he was there.

Milo and Mat stood on the Y/L/N doorstep. Milo looked over at Mat, and reached over, fixing his hair, "What the hell, man?" Mat snapped, swatting his hands away.

"Did you even brush your hair?"

"I did, actually."

They both turned to the door when it swung open. Your mom, Lauren, greeted them both with a warm smile, "You must be Mat." Your mom smiled.

"Mat I am." He nodded.

"Huh, he's funny too." Lauren nodded, raising a brow, "Well, come in. Dinner's almost ready." She stepped aside so they could enter.

Mat walked into your small apartment, his eyes going around every corner and looking at every photo on the wall. It was all of you and your mom, most when you were younger but there were a couple that were newer because you both looked a little older.

"Y/N, our guests are here." Your mom hollered down the hallway. You came down the hallway, fixing your necklace.

You smiled, "You must be Mat."

"Yeah." He nodded, moving behind you to get a better look at the racks of CDs you had. You frowned, "These yours?"

"Yeah." You nodded, mirroring his previous actions.

"Wow, The Cranberries and The Jonas Brothers." He nodded, picking up the two very different CDs.

"It's called taste." You grabbed them and set them back in their spots.

"Nah, I'm not judging. I like a girl who can do both." He smirked, picking up another CD and reading the back.

"You listen to music much?" You asked, crossing your arms.

"A little." He shrugged.

"You can borrow that." You told him.

"I'm good." He shrugged.

"Hey, you two, dinner's ready." Your mom popped her head out of the kitchen and into the living room where you two were.

A couple days later, Mat was getting accustomed to life in wherever he was. He didn't know what it was called and he didn't care to know. He had picked up a small cup of ice cream and was walking down the street, heading back to Milo's apartment when he saw you leaving the music store.

You looked up as he approached you," Hey, Mat." You smiled, "How are you liking it here in Ivory?"

"It's small."

"Small."

"Much smaller than where I'm from." He admitted.

"Right." You nodded, narrowing your eyes before clearing your throat, "I should get going. I'll see you around though."

"Wait, I have something for you." He pulled out the CD he had been eying a few days ago.

"Oh, wow, you didn't have to buy it, I offered it to you."

"I know. This is your's." You were stunned.

"Right." You nodded, taking it back from him.

"See you around, Y/N."

"Yeah." You stood in your spot, stunned.

A few days later, all you could think about was Mat. The interaction a few days ago, albeit short, was still on your mind. You were... confused to say the least. He was cold the first time you met, but the second time, things felt different.

"...Now, I don't know if you have anything going on two weeks from Friday, but I sort of signed us up for a dance class." Your mom told you, snapping you out of your daze.

"Dance class?" You asked.

"Yeah."

"Why did you sign us up for a dance class? You can barely tell your right from your left and have awful hand/eye coordination."

"I don't know, I wasn't thinking." Your mom explained, "I panicked. There are a few other ladies at work doing it, so I decided why not?"

"You are insane. When you're sweating and panting, I'll laugh." You leaned back in your seat, shaking your head. The bells above the diner jingled, and you looked up, curious when you heard the diner quiet down.

Living in a small town, everyone knew everyone. It was quite the cliche. So, when news went around that Mat was in town, everyone knew and everyone started gossiping. What did he do that was so bad he had to be sent away? Why was he here?

Mat looked around the diner, taking a deep breath as everyone looked at him like he was a caged animal, "Hey, why don't we tone it down a notch, guys?" Your mom called out, but no one listened to her and continued staring.

"Hey, quit it!" You shouted, and that seemed to snap everyone out of their daze and they all went back to what they were doing. Mat shot you both an appreciative look before going to the counter to order.

As he was leaving, he stopped by your table, "Hey, thanks for that."

"It's no problem." Your mom shrugged it off, "Next time you see creeps look at us, just shout at them for us, then we'll be even." She winked.

Mat nodded with a smile, the first you'd seen from him, "Cool." He nodded, "I'll see you around. Gotta get this back to Milo." He held up his bag of food.

"Oh, yeah. He gets cranky."

"So, I've heard." Mat chuckled, before smiling and giving you a fake salute before walking out the door.

"Y/N, there's someone here for you." Your mom hollered down the hallway.

"Who is it?" You asked.

"You'll just have to see." She winked, making her way down the hallway to her own room and shutting the door.

Your brows furrowed together as you made your way down the hallway to the front door where Mat was waiting in the doorway, "Mat? What're you doing here? Is there a CD you wanna borrow or something?"

"No," He chuckled, "I wanted to apologize. For my behavior the first time we met." You were stunned at his apology and the fact that he even was apologizing.

"Oh..." You didn't know what to say, "Well, thank you. I accept your apology. I get it. If I were new in a small town and were forced to meet new people, I'd probably react the same way."

"That still doesn't excuse my behavior." You raised a brow at the way he was speaking.

"Are you okay? Did you, like, go to school with the prince or something? Why are you talking so properly?" You laughed.

"Media training."

"Media training? Are you a promise?" Your eyes widened.

He laughed, "No. I play a little hockey in New York."

"Wow, a real city boy." You teased, "You any good?"

"A little." Mat smiled with a nod. You hummed, smiling, "So, look, there isn't much to do around here, so I was wondering if you wanted to go to the music store with me." He offered.

You were shocked, "Yeah, sure." You nodded.

"Cool." He nodded, trying to play it cool, "Are you free tomorrow?"

"Yeah."

"Cool." He nodded again, "How does 1 sound?"

"Sounds good." You nodded.

The next day, you were ready way before 1 o'clock, and at exactly 1 o'clock on the dot, there was a knock on your door and you knew immediately who it was.

You jumped off the couch, smoothing down your pants, before making your way over and opening the door, "Hey." You smiled.

"Hey, you ready?" He asked, his hands shoved into his pockets. On the outside, he looked cool and carefree but on the inside, he was so nervous and could feel the nervous sweat going down his back.

"Yeah." You grabbed your bag and then locked your door. You walked and talked over to the music store, the conversation very mundane.

The second you walked through, you were off in your own world. You ditched Mat and started rifling through the records as if you weren't there a couple days ago.

"Looking for anything in particular?" He asked, looking through the box next to you.

"No, but every now and then, they get new records." You shrugged, continuing your search.

"Hey, Y/N." The owner, Vic, called out, grabbing your attention, "I think I have something for you." He waved you over. You eagerly walked over and gasped when he pulled a record from under the desk.

"Vic, have I ever told you I love you?" Your eyes were wide as he handed you the record.

He only smiled as Mat walked over in confusion, "What's so special about a Blink-182 record?"

"We moved houses a little while ago, and in the move, I lost this record. It meant everything to me. I would play it practically every day, so when it went missing, it was the worst day of my life. I've been on the lookout for one since then, but for some reason, it's been impossible."

"Until today," Vic spoke up with a proud smile.

"Until today." You nodded with a smile. You got your wallet out, ready to pay, but Mat stopped you, "What?"

"I got it." He told you, handing Vic his card.

"What? No." You shook your head.

"Can't I just do this nice thing?" He chuckled.

You pursed your lips as you tried to read him, "Fine." You related, letting Vic swipe his card so he could pay.

Mat held the door open for you as you exited, "You know, I didn't tell you that story just for you to pay for this right?"

"I know." He nodded, "I just wanted to." He shrugged.

"Well, next time you see something you like, within reason, let me buy it for you." You nudged him.

"We'll see." He smirked.

As the weeks passed, you and Mat started hanging out more. You learned about his life in New York, learned about his best friend Anthony, his sister, and his parents. You also learned about his crippling fear of dogs, which was hilarious, and he regretted it the moment you started laughing.

He learned about your love for books and your love for ABBA and Mamma Mia. He learned your mom worked at a hotel and she also shared your love of music.

Your mom was at work, so you were left alone. It was summer after all. You were startled and confused by the knock at the door, "What're you doing here?" You asked.

"Hi, Mat. Good to see you too." He joked sarcastically.

"With the formalities out of the way, my question remains. What are you doing here?"

"Well, I was doing some research. There's a hockey team nearby. It's like minor league, I don't think they even keep score, but I got us tickets. They're for today." He held up a piece of paper with information about the team.

"Let's say I wasn't free. What would you do?" You asked.

"Go to the game alone." He shrugged.

"Fine. Just give me like 10 minutes."

"You have 5." You raised a brow, "I was working up the courage to ask you and kind of wasted a lot of time. The game starts in an hour and it takes a while to get there." He scratched the back of his neck.

"Awh, do I make you nervous, Mat?" You teased.

He quickly shook his head, "No."

You laughed, "All right, five minutes." You nodded.

You found your seats but before you made it, Mat insisted on buying you a hat from one of the parents outside. The merch had the team logo on it, and most of the people inside were wearing it.

"Wow, this is much more enthusiastic than I imagined for some reason." You laughed.

"Yeah, they can get pretty rowdy." He looked around.

"So, you go to many games in New York?" You asked.

He laughed, "A few."

"What does that mean?" You asked curiously, to which he only smiled, turning his attention to the ice as they began the national anthem.

By second period intermission, Mat had explained every rule of the game to you so you understood a little of what was going on, "Hey, I'm gonna get a hotdog, you want anything?" He stood up from his seat.

"A hotdog sounds pretty good about now." You nodded with a smile.

By the time Mat got back, the second period was getting ready to start, "Sorry, line for hotdogs was long." He handed you yours with a couple packets of condiments, "Didn't know what you wanted, so I got everything."

"It's all good. Thank you." you smiled, "How much do I owe you?"

"It's on me." He shook his head as you pulled out your phone.

"What? Mat we can't keep doing this. I have money, you know." You joked.

"I know, but I feel bad that I took so long."

"It's fine. I made a friend." You pointed below you to the kid who was sitting in front of you with his family. The kid waved, a look of awe on his face.

Mat winked. He knew the look on the kid's face. It was one he was all too familiar with. The look of recognition. The kid knew who he was, but thankfully, had the manners not to say anything.

By the end of the game, you were practically a seasoned expert. You followed Mat around the arena, thinking you were going to the car, but were confused when you ended up right next to the ice.

"What are we doing here?" You asked nervously.

"Well, since it's your first game, I thought I'd make it memorable." He smiled, "Your gonna ride the Zamboni." Your eyes widened.

"What?" He pointed to the big ice machine coming down the hall.

"So, who's it gonna be?" The Zamboni driver asked, looking between you and Mat. Mat quickly, without hesitation, pointed to you, "All right, hop on." The man smiled.

You got on the Zamboni, and it felt like an out-of-body experience as you drove around the rink. Mat watched, filming the entire thing, from the entrance off the side of the ice.

"That was crazy." You exclaimed as you hopped off.

"Yeah? I thought you'd like it." He laughed, sending a smile and a wave to the driver and the couple of workers in charge of the Zamboni.

"That was so cool, Mat. Thank you. I had a lot of fun tonight."

"I'm glad I was able to be the lucky guest who took you to your first game."

"Glad you were here for it. You're a good teacher. Thanks to you, I wasn't so clueless." You laughed.

"And you're absolutely sure there's nothing going on?" Mat asked.

Lauren sighed, "Yes, Mat, I'm sure. I'm pretty sure I know my own kid's schedule."

"Okay, I just want to make sure. These tickets were very expensive and I don't think they're refundable."

"And I told you, I can pay for her ticket." Lauren insisted with another exasperated sigh.

"And I told you I got it covered," Mat told her.

Both of their heads whipped over to the door as you walked in, confused at the way they both looked over at you, "Hi."

"Hi, honey." Your mom smiled, "Well, I'm going to get going. I've got some stuff to do. I'll see you later." She grabbed her bag quickly and kissed your head before leaving.

"That was strange." You laughed, setting your stuff down on the couch, "So, what're you doing here? Another hockey game?" You asked.

"Well..."

"Oh, please don't tell me you bought hockey tickets again. I had fun, but I think the next time we go, I should buy them because I feel like a moocher and if I buy them then you can't tell me no." You ranted.

He smiled, "Not like that, but I do have another surprise."

"Oh, no."

"Oh no" what?" He asked.

"Your surprises are always big and expensive."

"The hockey tickets weren't too bad and the record I got you was even cheaper than both tickets combined."

"Mat..."

"Okay, fine, this one's a little expensive." He handed you an envelope, nodding his head when you raised a brow at him. Your entire body froze when you read what the paper said.

"Mat Barzal." You gasped, "Are you serious right now? This isn't a joke?" You started looking around the room.

"What're you looking for?" He laughed.

"Cameras." You answered.

"Stop, I'm being serious. They're real." He grabbed your arms and sat you back down.

"Holy crap." You sat down, covering your mouth in shock, "You actually got Blink-182 tickets?"

"Yeah." He nodded with a proud smile on his face.

"How?"

"I know a guy." He shrugged, to which you raised a brow, "All right, my sisters pretty good at this, so I had her get them for me."

"Well, tell your sister I love her, and thank you." You were still in shock as you kept reading the tickets, "Oh, my God, now I have to find something to wear." You rushed off to your room.

"This is insane." You shouted over the loud noise of everyone in the arena, "And so are these seats. I don't think I've ever been this close to the stage for a concert in my life." You laughed.

"Yeah, Liana is really good at these kinds of things." Mat nodded.

"I really can't thank you enough, Mat. This means so much. No one's ever done this for me."

"Eh, it was nothing." He shrugged it off.

"Okay, just take my gratitude, will you." You both laughed. You took your seats and sat in silence, just taking everything in. Mat left a few times to go to the bathroom and get food, but you sat the entire time, wanting to remember everything.

After the concert, you were on a high. The post-concert depression was hitting, but it was worth it. You quickly went through your grocery list as your mom waited for you in the car.

"Thanks." You smiled at the bagger as you rushed outside. You set the stuff in the backseat then got into the passenger side, "All right, they had everything except tomatoes." You informed her, looking over at her. You could see the worry in her brows, "What is it? Did someone die?" You asked.

"No." She shook her head, "Honey..." She paused.

"Just tell me." You exclaimed.

"It's Mat." She started.

"What about him?" You asked, your mind racing as you frantically thought of every possibility.

"He's gone." She told her, her eyes screaming with pity and sadness.

"Gone? Gone where?"

"Milo called while you were inside. Said he went home."

"Home where?"

"Back to New York. Said the team called and said everything was cleared and he could come home." She explained.

"What team?" You asked nervously.

"You didn't know?"

"Know what, Mom?" Your brows furrowed together again, this time in confusion and hurt.

"Mat plays for the New York Islanders. A pro hockey team, like the big league. He was sent to Ivory because of some bad press and now that it's all cleared up they called him back." You sat back in your seat, taking in what she had just said. She watched you, worried, "You okay?"

"I want to go home." You told her.

"All right." She nodded.

As soon as you got home, you made a beeline for your room and stayed there for the rest of the night. You laid in bed, not even moving when your mom called for dinner.

She leaned in the doorway, watching you stare at the wall, "I'm gonna just leave this here." She said, setting the plate down on your nightstand, then sitting on your bed. "You feeling okay?"

"Why didn't he tell me?"

"I can't speak for him, but maybe he just wanted to forget about whatever was going on in New York." She suggested.

"But I wouldn't have judged him or said anything."

"I know that." She nodded, hugging you and kissing your head.

"I really liked him, Mom." You whispered, your voice going quiet as your eyes filled with tears.

"I know you did." She whispered, her own eyes filling with tears as she did her best to comfort you.

The months dragged on and eventually, you moved on. It took a lot of pushing from your mom and even Milo, but you started hanging out with a guy from your school and one thing led to another and you started going out.

"Y/N, Jared's here." Your mom announced.

"Coming!" You hollered back, fixing your shirt before hustling down the hall where Jared was standing, talking to your mom, "Hey, you ready to go?"

"Yeah." He smiled. You said your goodbyes to your mom before you were out and walking through Ivory. Jared was telling a joke, which made you smile.

"What is it?" Jared asked, noticing that you stopped laughing. He followed your line of sight over to someone across the street, "Who's that?"

"It's, uh," You swallowed harshly, "It's no one." You shook your head, "Let's go." You grabbed his hand and pulled him down the street.

Mat saw you from across the street and even from across the street, he could make out the look of surprise and hurt on your face. He saw you drag the guy who he could only assume was your boyfriend down the street and couldn't deny the pang it sent to his heart.

The next day, you had sufficiently ignored and avoided Mat, somehow. How you did it was a mystery even to you but you did it. All that progress came crashing down when he walked into the diner.

You were waiting for your mom and he had seen you from outside and rushed in, "There you are." He sighed, trying to catch his breath after running in.

You sighed, angrily setting your cup down as he took the seat in front of you, "Look, you have every right to be upset with me..."

"Hell yeah, I have the right to be upset with you. For one, you lied to me about everything, and two, you left without any explanation or reason. I had to find out through Milo."

"I didn't lie about everything."

"Oh, no, just your occupation and the real reason you were here."

"Look, I don't get why you're upset." Mat sighed, and the moment the words left his mouth, he knew he messed up.

You scoffed, "You have some nerve, you know? I get it, you didn't want people to know who you were or why you were here, but I thought, I really thought we had something special but then you just leave. No note, no email, not even a message in a freaking bottle!." You exclaimed, shaking your head, and gathered your stuff.

"I tried."

"I don't believe you." You turned and walked out the door, ignoring the looks the other patrons in the diner were giving you.

It was like was against you because as you turned the street with Jared, Mat was walking down the other side, his arm wrapped around some girl's shoulder, a girl you had never seen.

You slowed your pace but it was already too late to cross the street, "Huh, funny seeing you here." Mat commented.

"Yeah." You sighed.

"Do you two know each other?" Jared asked.

"At one point." You nodded, keeping your eyes on Mat.

"Well, are you going to introduce us?" The girl Mat was with asked impatiently.

"Right," Mat nodded, "This is Alexis."

"This is my boyfriend, Jared." You pointed to your boyfriend.

"And this is awkward." Alexis muttered under her breath, "Mat, I wanna go."

"Alright, yeah, we gotta go." Mat grabbed her hand again and they walked past you.

You sighed, linking arms with Jared again as continued your walk, "So, who was that?"

"Mat. He's just a friend, well a former friend." You corrected.

"Just a friend?" Jared raised a brow.

"Just a friend." You nodded, reassuring Jared.

Mat hadn't planned to be in Ivory for too long, but he wanted to make sure you accepted his apology before he left. Milo had caught a cold and Mat could barely cook, so Mat braved the cold and went outside to get food from the diner when he saw you and Jared standing in the park, seemingly in the middle of an argument. He didn't mean to eavesdrop, but you were in public and he was just there.

"Are you serious? You promised he was just a friend, but ever since he got here, you've been weird." Jared told you.

"Jared, please, can we do this somewhere else?"

"No, be honest with me, do you like him?" He asked. By that point, everyone in Ivory was listening in on your conversation.

"What are you talking about?" You balked, "This is so stupid, Jared. You're making no sense."

"I'm making perfect sense. Before Mat came to town, we were perfect. Everything was going great. Then he came to town and it was like a switch had flipped. Everything changed, Y/N," The way he said your name hurt.

You knew he was right, but maybe you were too blind and hurt by what Mat had done to see it, "Jared, please."

"No, no more. I'm done. I'm sorry." He shook his head, shoving his hands in his pockets as he headed for his car down the street.

You stood there, regretting not wearing a jacket. As you looked around, you then realized just how many people had heard your fight and it was just the icing on the cake.

You were tired and as soon as the first tear fell, you were running as far and as fast as you could. Mat stood in his spot frozen in confusion. Everyone was watching you, not stepping in to help, so he decided to do it.

"Hey!" He shouted, his voice echoing loudly enough for everyone to hear him, "Quit it!" Everyone quickly went back to what they were doing.

He sighed, following after you as fast as he could. He found you sitting on a bridge, over a lake. He could hear you crying and sniffling as he caught his breath.

"Y/N...?" He called out your name quietly so it wouldn't startle you, "Can I sit next to you?" You didn't say anything, so he took it as his chance to sit down, "Wow, you are a fast runner." He felt his lungs burn with every word he spoke and every breath he took.

"Took track in high school." You told him, sniffling as you both looked out onto the water, "Was it bad?"

"Nah." He shook his head.

"Don't lie to me right now, Mat." You sighed.

He hesitated, "All right, it was a little bad." He admitted.

"God." You sighed, wiping your eyes.

"But don't worry, it'll all be over by next week."

"Great, so I can't go outside for the next week." You sighed angrily, "You can go, Mat. I'll be okay."

"No." He shook his head.

"Just go." You repeated.

"I'm not leaving you alone." He stated. You sighed, rubbing your temple, "Me and Alexis, we were never dating." He admitted.

"What?" You asked, brows furrowing together at his random outburst.

"We were never together. We went on a date, yeah, but nothing more."

"Why are you telling me?"

"Just so you know you aren't alone." He reached over and grabbed your hand. He smiled when you looked at your hands together, but didn't do anything to remove your hand from his.

After Mat had followed you down to the lake, you had kind of been avoiding him. It hadn't been intentional at first, but it sort of just happened.

Mat saw you across the street and started crossing the street to see you, but you quickly ducked into a store and lost him. That was when he knew something was wrong. He thought he did something wrong, so that was why he avoided you.

You knew you had to tell him what was on your mind, so you decided to go to his place and tell him what was wrong. You knocked on his door and saw when he opened. thedoor, he looked like he wanted to shut it in your face.

"Before you shut the door, please let me say what I want to say, then you can shut the door in my face." You cut him off.

"All right." He nodded, crossing his arms.

"Look, I'm sorry I've been avoiding you. It's immature of me and it's wrong because you didn't do anything. It's all me." You admitted.

"What do you mean?"

"I like you, Mat. Like, really like you, and when you left, it hurt. I was hurt, and when you came back, I was surprised. You came back just as fast as you left. It was all happening too fast. I had gotten over you, I was with Jared, then you came back and threw a wrench into everything."

"Oh, my apologies." He narrowed his eyes as he spoke, sarcastically of course.

You narrowed your eyes back at him before you continued, "I'm trying to apologize for the way I've been acting and I just wanted to tell you that I really liked you and really liked spending time with you before you jet off to New York again and leave without a goodbye." You shrugged.

He sighed, running a hand across his face, "Y/N..." He breathed out.

"That's all I had to say. You can shut the door now if you want." You told him, turning on your heel and walking down the stairs.

Mat's brain was slower than his feet because before he knew it, he was calling out your name and picking up his pace. He grabbed your arm softly and spun you around.

He ignored the confused look on your face before leaning in for a kiss. When you pulled away, your brows furrowed in confusion, "Is that you saying you feel the same way?"

"Yes." He laughed, "I like you, too, Y/N."

"Oh, okay." You nodded, stunned by what just happened, "Can we kiss again?"

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milf-harrington · 10 months

Note

For the made-up fic title prompt:

"Just another normal doomsday"

♡

Just Another Normal Doomsday

Hawkins, 1987.

"I'm just saying, punk rock gay sex is different to hippy gay sex."

"How?"

Robin shrugged, stirring her straw through her milkshake before lifting the whole cup to her mouth to drink it. "It's sexier."

She was sitting with her legs crossed underneath her, back leaning against the bus window so she could face where he was sitting across the aisle. The bus was pleasantly dim, but watery sunlight streamed through a gap on her side and bathed her face in blue shadows while her hair lit up with bronze at the ends.

Steve snorted, leaning sideways with one leg stretched over the aisle, muddy sneaker propped up on the edge of Robin's bench. A cardboard tray filled with chips was nestled in his lap, the corners darkened with grease and grainy with salt.

"You're just saying that because your parents are hippies."

From Steve's backpack, their walkie (one they shared, with masking tape scribbled over in colourful markers stuck to the back, their names written in each others handwriting) crackled to life, codes carried out in a cloud of static that made them both sigh in unison.

Robin burped, dropping her empty milkshake cup back into the bag their food had come in. "No," She protested, milk lining her upper lip before she wiped it away. "I'm saying it because it's true."

"They're both gay!"

"But being punk rock is gayer!"

He flicked a chip crumb at her when she reached for her bag, watching it dodge her flailing attempts at a block and get stuck in her hair. "I'm telling Eddie you called him gay."

She blinked at him, face scrunched up in the same expression she used to give him whenever he opened his mouth at Scoops. "Eddie is gay, and I'm telling him that you called him punk rock-"

Something outside shrieked, high and rattling like broken glass against a sheet of metal. They shared a look like the ones they used to share at Family Video, when customers were being unreasonable and they couldn't say anything about it or they'd get fired.

Steve leaned down to grab his bat from the floor, wiping the grease off of his hands onto his jeans as Robin stood and stretched. There was still a deep purple bruise tucked into the inner corner of her eye from a demo-bat attack on patrol a few days ago, and Steve felt the matching one on his shoulder twinge when he hauled the nail-bat over it.

"He won't do anything," He told her, stepping in front to take the lead as they moved towards the front of the bus. The windows were still sloppily boarded up from a night that felt like a hundred years ago, just Steve and a bunch of kids who were in over their head. "I call him punk all the time, I think he's grown immune to it."

They stopped at the door, Robin squeezing past to stand on the other side, where the controls were. They stayed quiet, peering through the dirty glass to get a grasp of the how many and where. Dustin's code said three, but they'd been wrong before.

"Yeah, but if he hears you've been spreading that around?" Robin whispered, reaching behind her to wrap bandaged fingers around the lever. She whistled low, mostly breath, and Steve rolled his eyes. "You won't have to worry about demodogs, is all I'm saying."

"Yeah, yeah." He muttered, tightening his grip on the bat as the door shuttered open and a gust of warm air hit his face.

He crept outside, second-hand work boots crunching lightly on the gravel as he listened to Robin hurry up the ladder to the roof. She was going to yell directions and throw molotov cocktails while he did the actual hard shit. Technically the lookout part was supposed to be Eddie's job, and Robin was meant to be at Steve's back with her axe, but apparently they were at a crucial stage of the campaign and he "couldn't miss it".

Part of Steve hoped he'd get eaten, if only to get his boyfriend to reorganise his priorities a bit.

A half hour later, Steve leaned against the side of the bus, sweaty and panting while Robin offered him her water-bottle. She reeked of cheap alcohol and the sharp smell of burning, glittering shards of glass caught in her fringe. Gore dripped from the nails in his bat, and one of the dogs had gotten a good swipe at his shin, but he remained mostly un-grievously-injured. He still hurt everywhere though, body complaining about all the diving over and around and behind random bits of junk and machinery.

"Metal gay sex is probably gayer than punk rock gay sex." He decided, and Robin hummed thoughtfully.

"You'd know."

He shrugged, tilting his head with an ehh. "I've never slept with a punk so I can't be sure, but you've met Eddie."

"I have indeed. Speaking of- are we having dinner at Wayne's tonight?"

Steve groaned - not in complaint, it's just that his everything hurt and he'd forgotten about their dinner plans - and ran a hand through his hair. It was greasy and damp with sweat and monster blood. Overhead, a flock of demobats shrieked and weaved among each other, not bothering with the two of them as they headed off towards the quarry.

"Yeah, I said we'd pick up mince for that chuck-in he makes, but that was before the butcher got eaten this morning and I don't think Melvald's is open today."

Robin sighed, scooping up her bag and shrugging it over her shoulder. She held out a hand, fingers spread and wiggling expectantly, and he grinned as he clasped their hands together.

The headed off towards the tracks, a short-cut to the trailer park, and swung their hands back and forth between them.

"I could make that pasta my mum taught me?" Robin offered. "Pretty sure the Munson's will have all of that."

He groaned, this time in delight, and swung their hands a bit higher like a kid on the swings excited to touch the clouds. "God yes, please."

#this might be ooc im really fucking tired lmao #hope you enjoy!!#the concept of steve and robin just hanging out in the bus at the junkyard while on patrol is something thats been in my head for a while #very glad to have an excuse to write something for it #my writing #stobin #platonic soulmates #bit of steddie #steddie #robin buckley #steve harrington #stobin ficlet #asks #leeloooonfire #also the whole 'punk rock gay sex is sexier than hippy gay sex' part at the start #is taken directly from a conversation i had with my best friend one afternoon #i cant remember the context - i just found the exchange written down in my notes app and i went OH PERFECT

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tonberry-yoda · 1 year

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Please could i request a Rohan and Josuke 4 smooch 💙💙💙

HECK YES YOU CAN OMFG I love these two, so I am more than happy to provide the smooches!! Please enjoy and stay super duper hydrated!!

You were sick of Rohan ignoring you. You understood that he was a busy manga artist, but you were getting very VERY tired of his behavior lately.

You threw open the manga artists door and walked over to his desk, taking a seat.

"What are you doing?" He blinked at you, clearly very annoyed.

"Can we talk?"

"I'm busy."

"Exactly," you crossed your arms. "That's what I want to talk about."

"Listen, love, if you're asking me to give you more attention, I know. You beg for it."

"Why else would we be in a relationship?!" You threw your arms in the air.

"I like to get work done and I like to cuddle you at night."

"I want to go on a date."

Rohan huffed, but looked up at you with what looked like love. "Fine. We'll go on a date tonight."

"Finally."

"Don't think I don't love you." He placed his hand on your thigh and pressed kiss after kiss onto your lips that left you hungry for more as you left to get ready for the date.

"Summer time sucks sometimes," Josuke groaned staring at his melted ice cream, sweat pouring down his forehead.

"Yeah, but you look all cute and hot when it's warm out." You tucked a strand piece of hair behind Josuke's ear and pressed a kiss onto his sweaty cheek.

"I don't feel hot," he pouted, licking the ice cream that was now pouring down the cone. "Well, I feel hot as in the temperature... but you know."

You laughed and pressed another kiss onto Josuke's cheek. He smiled when he did so and decided to pull you closer, despite how hot the both of you were. He pressed kisses all over your cheeks, causing both of you to be a big pile of sweat.

"Gross, Josuke!" You tried pushing his face away, but both of you knew that you didn't want that.

~~~~~

if you want smoochies from your fav, send me an ask!!!

~~~~~

#love them sm #hope you enjoy!!#tonberry answers #smooches #jjba #jjba x reader #rohan #rohan kishibe #rohan x reader #rohan kishibe x reader #josuke #josuke x reader #josuke higashikata #josuke higashikata x reader

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reallydumbdannyphantomaus · 1 year

Text

Holiday Truce

@ectopal so fucking sorry for the lateness!!! it has been a little wild in my life lately but i did get it done!!! i picked your prompt of dash finds out danny's secret in micromanagement. very sorry if this is not what you were hoping for, but here's what happened :D

“So,” Dash said.

“Uh,” Fenton said.

Dash looked at the shaking nerd in front of him. Fear, he recognized. Fear, he knew. He used it as a weapon, knew how to loom, how to make himself larger and intimidating. Hell, he’d seen it on Fenton plenty of time before.

Except this time Fenton wasn’t afraid of his fists.

“You’re—you’re he? Him?”

“No?”

“Are you lying?”

“... No?”

Dash reached out with a finger and poked Fenton in the shoulder. It was solid. Squishy, but he thought that had more to do with Fenton not being muscular than with him being a ghost. Still, he knew what he saw. This whole time, he’d been shrunk down with Phantom, the cool, brave, awesome hero of Amity Park, the guy he had a poster of in his locker. Then they get unshrunk and Phantom is gone. In his place: Fenton.

Dash wasn’t the best at math, but even he could add this up.

There were thousands of things he could have asked in that moment. Things he’d wanted to say to his hero for years. Thanks for saving us or Can you take me flying? or Can I have your autograph? Instead, what came out was: “So, are you dead?”

Fenton flinched. “No, I—it doesn’t matter. Just—just be quiet, okay?”

“It doesn’t matter?” Dash wanted to thwack himself in the head. He didn’t want to be continuing this line of questioning. Why was his mouth saying this shit?

“Not to you, anyway.” Fenton spoke with such vehemence that all at once Dash was reminded that Fenton being Phantom also meant that Phantom was Fenton. His hero was the same nerd he’d been shoving in lockers since middle school.

“Oh.”

“Look. Just don’t tell anyone, okay? No one would believe you anyway, so just don’t tell anyone.”

“Okay,” Dash said, voice thready and small. What else could he say? Fenton could’ve been kicking his ass all this time, but instead he’d been saving it. If nothing else, Dash could keep a secret.

“Good,” Fenton said, turning to leave.

“Why?”

Fenton stopped without turning around. “Why what?”

“Why don’t you tell people?”

Fenton’s voice was nasal through his sneer. “Try thinking about it. I’m sure the answer will come to you.”

—

The answer did not come to him.

He watched Fenton from a distance, noticed all the signs he dismissed before. Constant bathroom breaks. Bruises in the morning that were gone by the afternoon. Gasps of blue air that always preceded a ghost.

But he never saw why Fenton kept it quiet.

Teachers yelled at him for being late. Other students laughed behind their hands when he fell asleep at his desk. Paulina watched him rush out of class to the “bathroom” and whispered, “He should start wearing a diaper to school if he goes so much.” He tried to chuckle, but all he could manage was the slight curling of his mouth, and even that was strained. Paulina would never say something like that if she knew the truth. Fenton would have so much support from everyone in the school if he would just tell them the truth.

So, yeah. He didn’t get the secrecy.

Fenton, though, had avoided Dash like the plague. He’d never sought Dash’s company out before, but now the sight of Dash’s shadow was enough to have him scampering away. He tried to corner Fenton once, in the janitor’s closet, but forgot about the whole ghost thing. Since there was no one else around to see, Fenton just walked through the back wall, leaving Dash alone with the mops.

What was he supposed to do?

It felt like a secret of this magnitude should change things more. True, he couldn’t bring himself to shove people around anymore (what if some of them were secret heroes, too?) but otherwise, life went on. He went to football practice. He failed his math test. He laughed when Kwan made fun of Lancer’s pants falling down (again).

He stared at Danny Fenton across the cafeteria.

Danny Fenton did not look back.

—

No one in Amity Park liked the Guys in White. They only ever got in the way of Phantom trying to do his job, while being utterly ineffective. Even the Fentons did more to keep the city safe from dangerous ghosts—mostly through supplying anti-ghost tech and not through actual hunting, but it was still more than the GIW ever did.

So when the GIW locked down the school, most everyone rolled their eyes in disgust.

Every once in a while, the GIW had one of these sessions. He wasn’t entirely sure what the point of them was, but it usually involved a bunch of dumb questions about whether they’d talked to any ghosts. Like they were all conspiring against the government with the ghosts, or something.

(Well, he probably would, given the opportunity, but he hadn’t exactly talked to a lot of ghosts who weren’t trying to kill him. The only ghost he knew personally hated being in the same room as him.)

“Have you had any contact with the ghost masquerading as a musician, known as Ember McClain?” The agent in white drummed his fingers on the desk. Dash had the sudden urge to bite his pinky.

Dash furrowed his brow. “I think she is actually a musician, though?”

“What?”

“Ember. She does, actually, like, play guitar and sing. So I think she’s a real musician? Just. You know. A ghostly one.”

The agent leaned into his face. “So you have had contact with her.”

Dash leaned back. “Uh, no? Not since the time she mind controlled a bunch of us. Which I don’t think is my fault.”

“And you haven’t sought her out since?”

“Uh, no. I don’t actually enjoy being mind controlled.”

“Hm. And the menace known as Phantom?”

Dash barely kept his shoulders from tensing. “What about Phantom?”

“Have you contacted him?”

“I mean, he’s saved me a couple times. But he saves everyone.”

The agent snorted. “That’s what the ghosts want you to think, kid. Make no mistake: all ghosts are the same: evil, greedy, and power-hungry. We don’t yet know what Phantom’s true intentions are. It’s our job to get that creature off the streets and into containment, where he belongs.”

Dash was never the smartest person, but sometimes, when all the pieces were in front of him, he could add two and two and get four. He remembered the Fentons echoing the agent in front of him almost word-for-word. Or maybe this agent was echoing them.

Either way, Dash finally knew why Danny Fenton had a secret.

Dash curled his hands into fists. Fenton didn’t want to talk to him; that much was abundantly clear. But Fenton had still saved his life, saved the lives of everyone in the town, the world even. He could do this much for him.

“Look, dude, you think what you want,” Dash said. “I can’t exactly change your mind. Never been good at persuasion. But,” he said, and he stood up, crossing his arms and hooding his eyes, “no one else here believes your bullshit, dude. We know the truth, no matter what you say.”

“Mr. Baxter, the science—”

“I don’t care what studies you’ve faked. I’m telling you right now that if you seriously go after Phantom like you would any other ghost, you’re going to have to go through the whole town first,”

And Dash wasn’t very smart. And he wasn’t persuasive. But he knew fear. He was 16. This agent was probably somewhere in his thirties. By no means should the man be afraid of him. But Dash knew how to make himself bigger. Dash knew just where to strike someone, just what made them scared. This man was only as brave as his badge. A whole insurrection? One aimed at him? That thought terrified him.

The man was silent.

Dash smiled a shark’s smile. “Do yourselves a favor and leave Amity Park alone. We’ve got it handled from here.”

The door swung shut behind him as he left the agent alone in a dark room, still stuttering for a response.

#danny phantom #dash baxter #holiday truce #my fic #my writing #hope you enjoy!!#yeah anyone if u want the story basically i live in peru rn and the country is falling apart a little bit? has been for like a month???#for example the street i work on was teargassed a couple nights ago so u know #its just been wild and i straight up forgot about this because i just had.. stuff going on #again #so so sorry about that

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melandrops · 2 months

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yknow what those tma blog recs would be lovely actually if u have them (also hi it’s me jefferythejelly. sideblog moment :P )

i gotchu!

@mintytea-exe @yourbodymyarchive @ceaseless-sobbing @cult-of-the-eye @nerdypixel @cielle-b @murderandcoffee @vickozone are all friends of mine and their blogs are great

if you're looking for popular tma blogs, i would also suggest @late-to-the-magnus-archives @annabelle--cane @mag200 and @mothmansboywife

some other great art blogs include @dcartcorner @occudo @checkadii @kittengutss @lonelyslutavatar

hope this helps!

#blog recs #if we're moots and i forgot to tag you i apologize #and if we're not mutuals i apologize for the tag #hope you enjoy!!#the tma fandom is one of my favs everyone is very kind and fun

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honeyhoneypot · 6 months

Text

“...I just didn’t know you were capable of caring about anything but yourself.” He spoke, trying to bring back the light-hearted tone of voice as he looked up at the host, who still had that warm, uncharacteristically sad look in his eyes.

“Jesus, kid, you think too little of me.” He grinned.

---

CHAPTER THREE OF CURL UP LIKE A PILL-BUG IS UP WOOOO!!! sorry this one took so long, i had essays to write lmao

This update is super duper special because it's my BIRTHDAY IN THREE DAYS and i wanted it to be out before then omg <33

I HOPE YOU ENJOY GO READ <333

#GO GO GO #HOPE YOU ENJOY!!#alenoah #alenoah fics #total drama #td noah #td alejandro #fanfic

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falling-star-cygnus · 28 days

Note

for the requests, can i have some cherrisnake?

ofc you can <3

❗i am so sorry this took so long❗ …a lot of has been going on T-T

CherriSnake HC’s >:D

-> Cherri and Pentious have the most intense debrief sessions. Even before they started dating, they both made a passing comment about disliking someone and it all snowballed

-> Pentious made Cherri an a decorative cherry bomb//steam punk keychain as a plan to confess but chickened out at the last second and said he made everybody a keychain {he did not}

-> Cherri still has it after Pentious' sacrifice, hanging from a tear in her skirt

-> Sometimes Cherri will sit at his memorial and tell him about her day and what the remaining Egg Boi got up to

-> Shiny Pentious has his Percy moment in Heaven where he remembers Cherri's name and her reddish pink hair tips but he doesn't quite know why

-> They fell asleep on the couch together after getting back from their night out, and since Cherri is like- a living furnace- they ended up cuddling

-> It was actually really enjoyable; Pentious needs to cuddle something for warmth and Cherri tends to overheat easily so they balanced each other out

-> Angel took so many photos

#hope you enjoy!!#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel 2024 #hazbin headcanons #cherrisnake #cherri x sir pentious #sir precious #cherri bomb #hazbin sir pentious #hazbin cherri bomb

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annaraebananawriter · 1 year

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Hello My Old Heart

Hello everyone!! I give you, as promised, Hello My Old Heart, the winner of the poll. This is based off that one ask Calcium_Cat got about what if OSD!Dream and OSDiff!Dream met. I was immediatly taken in my angst of it all and knew I had to write about it.

Now, it might not be entirely in character, as I did nothing more than skim the original sources to double check things, but I think it turned out well regardless. I did take some inspiration for Coraline and Alice Through the Looking Glass, which you will see. But that’s just more so as an explain for why these two are meeting in the first place.

I don’t really have much to say, really! So I guess this is it! Happy reading!!

Fandom: Undertale/UTMV

Characters: (One Small Dream) Dream (Who belongs to @calcium-cat), (One Small Difference) Dream, and background (One Small Difference) Nightmare and background (One Small Difference) Cross (Who belong to @warriorstale001)

Warnings: Very vague implied/referenced torture, and I think that’s it. Let me know!

Summary: “Based off of this post from Tumblr. Or: What happens when OSD!Dream and OSDiff!Dream meet? Let's find out. (UTMV, One Small Dream belongs to Calcium_Cat and One Small Difference belongs to Warriorstale001, Dream sans Centric)”

Word Count: 3382

~oOo~

Dream was playing hide and seek with Crossy and Kiki when he found the mirror.

He admits to breaking the rule of hiding in the dungeons. But he really wanted to up the playing field. Crossy and Kiki always seemed to find the most wild places to hide and he wanted to be the one with the best hiding place for once. They already knew every spot on the main floor, though, and upstairs were their bedrooms and it was boring to hide in bedrooms. There were only so many places there.

So, while there was a rule they followed about not hiding in the dungeons, it wasn’t really enforced too much. And they wouldn’t think to check there until they’ve run out of places to check. It’ll be fun. He’s sure of it. They’ll enjoy the challenge.

And it’s not like they wouldn’t find him. They always found him. It’ll just take longer than it has before, that’s all. It’ll be fine.

Of course, this was all before he found the mirror.

In the dungeons, there was a row of cells. They never got used much. Past them, there were a few rooms they used as storage. It was out of the way. Nobody really went down there unless they really needed something. It was perfect. Dream slips inside and has to pause for a minute as he disrupted the dust and choked on it. Once his breathing was back to normal, he looks around.

Nothing too exciting. Boxes and shelves and cobwebs in the corner. And dust.

And the mirror in front of him.

This mirror didn’t belong here. He knows that much. It was easy to tell. It was a nice mirror, with engraved details along the top and sides. It looks new. But he knows none of the others had bought a mirror, and if they had, they wouldn’t immediately put it down here to get ruined. No, this mirror was not brought here by anyone in the castle. But if it wasn’t, how did it get here? Who brought it? Surely it didn’t just…appear all on its own. That was impossible.

Dream steps closer, peering at his reflection. It seems like a normal mirror. Nothing special to it, just odd that it was here instead of upstairs. Maybe he should go and get Crossy and Kiki and they could check it out with him. Maybe they knew where it came from. If not, maybe Nighty would. If not…then it was a mystery. And everyone loves a mystery now and then, right? It would be cool to try and solve this one.

He reaches out to touch it.

Something scurries over his foot, spooking him, making him yelp, and he falls forward, his other hand flying forward, hoping to catch himself on the mirror.

Only, his hand goes through the mirror and he tumbles onto the floor.

Dream lay there for a moment. “Ow…”

He feels more winded from the fact that he just fell through a mirror than he did from falling on the floor. You’re not supposed to go through mirrors. That’s not what mirrors are for. They’re not doors. Why was it, then, that he just did the impossible? Was he magic? Well, yes, he was, technically, but was he fairy-tale magic? Did his dream finally come true?

Picking himself up, he wipes off his pants. He blinks at the room. Everything seems off. Wasn’t that shelf on the opposite wall when he walked in? And that box, wasn’t it over there? And that one over here? “That’s odd.” He stands there. Why is everything backward? “Um…” Turning, he stares at the spot where the mirror should be. It’s empty. “Well, that can’t be good.”

Where did the mirror go? Mirrors don’t just walk away. Where did it go?

Thoroughly unsettled and a bit frightened, he backs up. “I should head back. Nighty’s probably worried.”

In the hallway, everything’s backward too. Frowning, he tries to go in the direction he thinks the stairs will be. If everything’s backward, they’ll be on the opposite side. But he pauses a few steps in. He looks back distracted.

There’s negativity in the air. And it’s not coming from Nighty or any of the others.

It’s someone else.

But the only rooms down here are storage rooms and cells. Nobody else is here. Unless…someone was? But why would Nighty capture someone?

The negativity is steady. It tugs at him, almost pulling him toward where it's coming from. Should he let it? But Crossy and Kiki and Nighty…he should get back to them. He should tell them what just happened. They’ll know better. They usually do. And they’ll get more worried the longer he doesn’t return.

But this negativity…it feels familiar, somehow, for someone he doesn’t know. He’s the guardian of positivity. Shouldn’t he help this person? Or try to? He can always go back and get the others. Always. It won’t take too long to go and check.

Glancing back, he slowly turns, heading down the hall. “Just a quick check, Dream,” he says to himself, saying it over and over again in his head to make sure it sticks.

Following the negativity, he goes further into the dungeons, passing empty cells. It’s dark and cold down here. It makes him shiver just a bit. He pulls his cape around him. Getting closer, he slows down, coming to a stop in front of what he expects to be another empty cell.

It’s not.

The person inside flinches as he gasps. They look up, and their eyes widen. Their mouth opens a bit. Their negativity doesn’t leave, but it does fade, replaced with confusion and surprise.

But it’s none of this that made him gasp. It’s not what he expected, yes, and it is surprising, but he’s more so concerned with the person and what they’re wearing than anything. Their clothes are ripped and dirty, yellow vest stained with blood. They seem to be chained up, too, arms spread across the wall. They shift and the chains clank against the wall, but they don’t seem to notice, their focus all on him.

And Dream’s focus is on the crown they wear.

The golden crown that was, if he was seeing things correctly, given to them as a gift from their brother, way back before the villagers really settled down.

The golden crown that looks exactly like his.

Eyes wide, Dream looks at Future Him.

How was he here? This shouldn’t be possible. One of them should be gone if the other is here. What’s going on? And were those bandages? Was Future Him injured? Why? How? Nighty would never allow him to be injured. And this looks like a bad injury. Maybe Nighty couldn’t stop in time, or wasn’t around? But then surely Future Him wouldn’t be in a cell if Nighty knew he was injured and needed to heal.

Then…Nighty must be gone. Or they must be captured. Or something like that. Nighty was probably on his way here to rescue them. Yeah. Then it was a good thing Dream was here. He can help Future Him escape before Nighty finds them, making it easier to get out of there. Then they can get home and deal with this situation without any trouble.

“Woah.” Dream breathes, stepping closer. “You look awful.” He grabs one of the bars. “Are you okay? Do you need help? Don’t worry, I can help. We’re in the dungeons, right? The keys should be around here somewhere. I’ll find them. Stay here.”

Without giving Future Him time to say anything back, he moves down the hall in search of the keys. Humming to himself as quietly as he can to make his own soundtrack for this important mission, he peeks around the corner and finds another hallway of cells. But at the end of that one, when he peeks around this corner, he finds Crossy asleep in a chair. His arms are across his chest, head hanging. He seems to be sound asleep. But still, Dream tip toes as he comes closer.

For a moment, he’s confused. How is Crossy here when they were just playing hide and seek together? He couldn’t have gotten here that fast. It’s just impossible. And he’s asleep, too. That’s even more impossible. He would’ve had to be gone for hours for this to happen. Was he? No, no. He can’t have been. Something else was going on here.

Something really, really weird and wrong.

Looking around, he doesn’t see any keys. But remembering stories where the characters found keys on the guards and used them to escape, he eyes Crossy again. He feels guilty for having to do it, but it’s better he tries than gives up. And if the keys aren’t there, he’ll just have to keep searching.

He rummages through Crossy’s pockets and much to his surprise and delight, finds a ring of keys. He takes them out as silently as he can, barely keeping from saying anything in celebration. Somehow, he succeeds.

Smiling to himself, he rushes back. He’s a little out of breath by the time he arrives.

“I’m back!” Dream says, making Future Him look up in surprise. That’s a little hurtful. Of course he would come back! Why would Future Him think otherwise? “Let’s see…not that one…no, no—here!” The cell clicks and he slips inside, barely holding in a cheer—that would definitely wake Crossy up. He stands by Future Him, eyeing the chains. “Um, I don’t know if the key to the chains will be on this ring. There were two there. We’ll just have to try them all and see.”

Luckily, it was on there, and the chains around Future Him’s wrists click open. Dream quickly does the same with the ankles. Stepping back, he waits. Future Him doesn’t move. Concerned, he shifts in place, unsure what to do. Should he…help? But what would he be helping with? Before he needs to decide, though, Future Him’s legs buckle and he crashes to his knees, catching himself with his arm before he can fall on his face.

Yelping, Dream crouches beside him, hands hovering. What should he do? What should he do? Future Him blinks, slowly, and stares at him. His eyes are wide. Disbelieving. Slowly, he reaches up a hand—which is shaking, by the way, they should really find out how to stop that, it can’t be healthy—and rests it on Dream’s cheek.

Blinking, he lets Future Him do what he wants. Maybe it’ll make him feel better.

The other hand joins, resting on his other cheek, and Future Him’s expression breaks into one he can’t pin down. Swallowing, he speaks, voice raspy, as if he’s used it too long, or maybe not enough. “You’re…real?”

Dream blinks again, concern increasing. “Yeah.” Tilting his head, he frowns. “Did you think I wasn’t?”

Future Him doesn’t respond, still staring. Though his hands do drop, clasping together in his lap.

“Um.” Dream sits, crossing his legs like how he’s been taught. In any other situation, he might be getting a story read to him by one of Nighty’s boys. “So…what happened?”

Future Him looks confused. “What do you mean?”

Isn’t it obvious? Dream gestures around the cell. “Why were you chained up? How did you get here? How are you here in the first place? Because I’m here and you’re here and I’m pretty sure we’re the same person and I’m also pretty sure we’re not supposed to exist together.” Or at least, that’s what the movies always said. “And who wounded you? Why?”

The last question makes something in Future Him shudder, face darkening. Then, he shakes his head, a faint smile taking over. “I feel as though I should be asking you the questions.” Future Him turns his head, coughing into his shoulder. “Why are you here? How did you get here?”

“Well…” Dream says, “I was playing hide and seek with Crossy and Kiki. The bedrooms were off limits, of course, but they didn’t say the basement was off limits, so I decided to hide in one of the storage rooms—the ones past the dungeons, that way.” He points, knowing Future Him would get the idea.

Leaning back, he thinks, at the point where he’s not sure of the details. “And then I saw a mirror, which was odd because everything else was dusty and the mirror wasn’t. I tried to touch it because it must be magical if it wasn’t dusty like everything else. Only my hand went through the glass, which was weird, and then something—I think it was a rat—ran over my foot and I fell. When I got up, the whole room was, like, swapped around. If that makes sense? And when I looked back, the mirror was gone.” He is quiet for a moment as he remembers. Then he brightens. “And then I found you.”

Future Him’s brow furrows. He seems to be struggling to keep up. Dream doesn’t blame him. It does sound a little weird said out loud. “…Crossy and Kiki?” he says after some time, saying the names slowly. “Do you mean…Cross and Killer?”

Dream nods, happy that Future Him recognized them. “Yeah. Who else? There’s also Dusty, who was busy experimenting in his room, and Rory, who went out with Nighty for groceries—and you already know who Nighty is.” As he lists them, he gets to his feet in excitement. “Oh! There’s also Roro, but he’s not around as often as the others.”

“I…see.”

Seeing that Future Him was still worried, Dream smiles, trying to reassure him. “They take really good care of me, don’t worry.”

Future Him just looks at him for a moment before looking away, rubbing his wrists again.

If Dream thought he looked horrible from outside the cell, he’s even worse close up. Bandages wrap around him everywhere, even covering one of his eyes. His brow is still furrowed, heavy lines etched on his face. He seems to be lost somewhere, no longer in the present. Does he need help getting back? He’s not sure if he’ll be able to help. Future Him doesn’t seem to be in much harm, though, so it’s probably fine.

But his one eyelight is dim, and he seems to be weighed down by something. He looks exhausted. He looks sick, actually, with a faint seen of sweat on his forehead. They should really get back upstairs and get him to a bed. Of course, they might run into the others, but maybe they can get lucky and avoid them until Future Him is asleep and he’s sneaking out of the room to go and inform the others of what happened.

From the far end of the hall, a door thuds shut.

Dream freezes in place, feeling much like he’s about to be in trouble. But then he recognizes the aura that seems to be walking toward them. He relaxes. It’s just Nighty. That’s good. He might be worried he was away for so long and scold him for being down here without permission, but once he sees Future Him, they’ll have bigger things to worry about.

That’s if it even is his Nighty. He realizes it might not be. This might not even be his world—he remembers watching a few movies where the main characters went to an alternate world with different versions of themselves or their friends. This could be the same thing. Would answer a few questions. But that shouldn’t matter. It’s Nighty. It’s still his brother. He’s still the same person. Nighty will want to help, of course, because no matter his version or another one, Nighty is a big worrywart and Future Him needs someone to worry over him.

His brother is the perfect person for the job.

Beaming, he steps forward, already calling out “Nighty!” when he gets pulled from behind and tugged close to Future Him’s chest.

Blinking, it takes him a moment to catch up. He tries to wiggle out of his hold, but Future Him is apparently really strong and doesn’t budge an inch, tightening his grip and pulling him even closer. He’s facing his chest, nothing but his shirt and bandages in his vision, which is terrible because Nighty will need someone to explain to him what’s going on and Future Him is in no state to do that and he can’t explain tucked away like this.

Physically moving doesn’t seem to be getting him anywhere, so he tries to talk to Future Him. “Um, future me?” he says, turning his head. “It’s okay, it’s just Nighty—”

Above him, Future Him shushes him, repeating the motion more times than is necessary. “Just stay quiet.”

“But it’s Nighty.”

“Nightmare.” Future Him says, though it sounds like he’s talking more to himself than anything. Shuffling, he slowly moves back into a corner, bringing Dream with him. “You mean Nightmare.”

Dream frowns. What’s the difference? “I think I mean Nighty.”

“Just—” Voice breaking, Future Him seems to stop breathing for a moment, before remembering he has to breathe to stay alive. His breathing gets all funny, coming out fast and short. “Just trust me, okay? Stay silent, stay hidden.”

“But why?” He feels bad for whining like this, but what else can he do? This isn’t how it was supposed to go. They shouldn’t be hiding like something’s coming to get them.

It’s just Nighty.

Future Him still seems to be talking to himself, distant answers as he watches the door like it might spring to life and attack them. “He won’t be able to hurt you like this.”

“Why would he hurt me? It’s Nighty…” Dream gives one last struggle, Future Him’s arms tightening around him even more—honestly, how tight can he go? It feels unnatural. Safe, yes, very, but uncomfortable.

Glaring at the bandages in front of him, he huffs. He is so confused. And concerned. Who wouldn’t be? This was nothing like how his Nighty explained things. Nothing at all. Future Him wasn’t supposed to be injured and chained up. Future Him wasn’t supposed to be hiding him from their brother. Even with all of these pieces in front of him, this puzzle was so difficult to put together. He hated it. He wanted to go home. His home, not this weird backward place where Future Him was behind a cell and their brother seemed to have something to do with that.

It…was their brother, right? What is he even saying, of course it is! Future Him was just…he doesn’t know. Mistaken, maybe. Yeah. Mistaken. But Nighty would never imprison him, he knows Nighty, he would never do that. Maybe he was reading things wrong. Maybe Nighty didn’t do all of this, maybe he was here to rescue them! That would make more sense. That would be more like Nighty.

But if that was true… then why was Future Him acting like this? Why was his breath hitching, why was there the slightest tremor in his arms? Why was he hiding Dream? What was going on here?

As Nighty’s aura enclosed on them, the comforting feeling of safety and reassurance and everything his brother was, he leans forward, focusing. It’s easier to do this in such a close proximity. He focuses on Future Him and gently reaches out, trying to feel for his emotions and soul. It’s harder to hide that way. Maybe he can get some answers, at least something to go off of.

Immediately, he regrets it.

And surrounding both is a vicious mix of heartbreak and betrayal.

Bitterness pools in his mouth and he gasps in surprise. From Future Him, the emotions crowd around him, blocking out Nighty’s aura entirely. They’re rapidly switching, hovering in the air, going back and forth and back and forth between desperation, need to protect him, can’t let him be seen, need to protect him, and fear, why is he here, why is he here, it hasn’t been that long, please go away, I can’t handle any more pain.

…what? What?

That’s not right. This can’t be right.

Swallowing the bitterness, Dream automatically grips the back of Future Him’s shirt and he shifts, trying to look up at him as he whispers, “Why are you so afraid of him…?”

#my writing #my fanfiction #fanfiction #oneshot #undertale #utmv #dreamtale #one small dream #one small difference #dream sans #osd dream sans #osdiff dream sans #background osdiff nightmare sans #background osdiff cross sans #tw implied/referenced torture #hope you enjoy!!

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littencloud9 · 19 days

Text

Dazai has a beating heart and a brain that works faster than most, but having a functioning body doesn’t make for a soul. And having his hands out makes him want to dig his nails into the earth, if only to tether himself to this world where merely existing makes him feel alien.

And so Dazai despises his hands.

or, dazai osamu and his relationship with touch

❤️‍🩹 5.3k, kunichuuzai, teen and up. featuring quiet understanding, silly banter, and a much needed break.

❤️‍🩹 written for @bnesszai <3 happy birthday!!

#i hope i got the timezone right lol but if i didnt then do not perceive me #HOPE YOU ENJOY!!#bsd #kunichuuzai #my first knchz fic woooh!! im banging them on the wall #fanfic #ao3 #my writing #ness <3

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livesincerely · 5 months

Note

possessive jack in the merlin au in these trying times??? (no pressure though i love your work sm any writing of yours at all is enough fuel for weeks worth of my bedtime stories)

The upcoming tourney means that training has increased tenfold, which means that the amount of time David spends repairing, cleaning, and polishing Jack’s armor and weapons has also increased tenfold.

Granted, it could be worse: David’s managed to pawn off the worst of his duties to poor Garth so that he can focus on tasks too important to leave to others—namely the aforementioned armor and weapons. Which is why he’s sitting on the edge of the training grounds with a pair of pliers and a set of Jack’s chainmail, carefully replacing any rusted or damaged links with fresh ones, a gentle breeze tempering the worst of the afternoon sun.

Jack is properly in his element out here, watching with a keen eye as the knights run through their drills, calling out corrections and critiques in equal turns. Every now and then he demonstrates a particular sequence himself, the edge of his blade glinting majestically as it slices through the air.

David’s attention is so thoroughly split between his work and keeping watch over his Most Royal and Most Exasperating Pain in the Ass that it takes him a moment to realize that the shadow that’s fallen over him isn’t from a cloud, but from someone sidling up beside him.

“Uh, hello?” he says, squinting up at the unexpected company. “Can I help you?”

“I certainly hope so,” the stranger says. He’s dressed in a dark tunic with a sword sheathed across his hip, leather braces strapped around his wrists and a plate buckled across his chest. “Do you know if visiting knights are allowed to train on the grounds or should I find somewhere else to run through some drills.”

“That’s a question quite a bit above my station,” David says, recognizing the crest stamped into his armor as from one of the northern delegations. “Sir Sean or Sir Albert would be the ones to ask, to be sure, but in my experience the answer will likely be no. I think there’s a separate area set up in the East Courtyard.”

“Could I trouble you to show me the way?” the knight asks. “I find myself becoming hopelessly lost when I try to navigate the citadel alone.”

“I’m sure I could slip away for a moment,” David agrees, setting aside his pliers. He glances back across the training yards and Jack seems more than occupied, walking one of the younger knights through a disarming sequence. “I understand more than most how difficult it can be to find your way around the castle.”

“Thank you, kindly.” He offers David a hand up, and once he’s on his feet, he bows low over their clasped hands and presses a kiss to David’s knuckles. “I am Sir Camden of Rhodia, and graciously in your debt.”

“Oh, it’s no trouble, really,” David says, blushing furiously at the gesture. “My name is David.”

“David,” Sir Camden repeats. “A lovely name for an even lovelier creature.”

He offers his arm as David tries not to stanmer, thoroughly flustered in the face of such an unexpected compliment.

“There’s no need for flattery,” David says, hoping he doesn’t sound as ruffled as he feels. “I’ve already agreed to show you the way.”

“There’s always time for flattery,” Sir Camden disagrees lightly, his expression bright with good humor. “Especially for one as clearly deserving of it as you.”

“O-oh, well—“

“David!”

David turns towards the shout to find Jack stalking toward him at a steady clip, jaw clenched and brow furrowed.

“And where do you think you’re going? We’ve still got several more hours of training,” Jack informs him sharply, as if David wasn’t already fully aware.

“Prince Johnathan,” Sir Camden says, sinking into a deep bow at Jack’s approach. “It’s an honor to finally meet you, I am Sir Camden if Rhodia.”

“A pleasure, I’m sure,” Jack says, crisply polite. He’s got his war face on for some inexplicable reason, the look in his eyes as hard as stone. “And why, exactly, are you attempting to abscond with my manservant?”

“My apologies,” Camden says carefully, his eyes flitting uncertainly between David and Jack and back again. “David had just agreed to escort me to the secondary training grounds—I’m afraid I’m still at a loss when it comes to navigating the castle grounds. Perhaps, if he could be spared for a few minutes—“

“He cannot,” Jack cuts in firmly, offering no further explanation. “However, I’m sure Sir Anthony would be more than happy to show you.”

Tony steps forward as if summoned from thin air, face settled in a polite mask. “It’s right this way.”

“Of course,” Sir Camden acquiesces, nodding politely at the clear dismissal. “Thank you, my lord.”

Jack doesn’t respond, returning Camden’s farewell with a curt nod of his own. The moment the two of them are out of earshot, David swats at Jack’s arm.

“What was all that about?” he demands.

“Getting friendly with the visiting nobles, are we?” Jack asks with a scowl. “I thought you were convinced that one of them was some kind of assassin in disguise?”

“I was just being nice! He’s the one that came up to me,” David defends, though he’s not quite sure what it is he’s supposed to be defending. “And it would’ve been a great way to gather information on the delegation from Rhodia if you hadn’t interrupted.”

“Oh, is that what they’re calling it now?” he mutters. “Because Sir Camden,” —Jack spits the man’s name like it’s the vilest of curses— “seemed interested in a lot more than a friendly escort.”

“You’re being ridiculous,” David informs him, rolling his eyes.

“I’m being— I’m being ridiculous?” Jack somehow manages to make sputtering look handsome and regal because he’s an ass that way. “If he’d taken any more liberties he might as well have asked for your favor!”

“Oh, please,” David scoffs. “As if I’d give my favor to anyone but—“

He stops, the rest of the words caught in his throat.

Jack wheels on him like a hunter who’s finally caught wind of his prey. The look in his eyes has shifted somehow, that flinty gaze settling into something softer, but no less intense, his irises glinting like twin flames.

“Anyone but…?” Jack echoes softly.

David takes a deep breath, his heart hammering against his rib cage. “You’re impossible,” he murmurs.

“I could say the same thing about you,” Jack replies, and he reaches up, catching the edge of David’s neckerchief between his thumb and forefinger.

“Jackass.”

“Smartass.”

They share a smile, only for the two of them.

Finally, Jack says, “Back to work, Jacobs. And don’t let me catch you flirting with any more visiting knights.”

“So, the Manhattan knights are fair game?” David jokes.

Jack’s smile sharpens. He tugs at David’s neckerchief: just the once, just enough for the fabric to bite into his skin.

“The Manhattan knights know better,” he corrects.

And with that parting shot, he saunters away.

#newsies #jack kelly #davey jacobs #javid #*editor's note #*the writing desk #*ask #bits & bobs #merlin au #I’m not sure if or how this scene fits into the main merlin au I’m working on #but I can imagine something similar to this working as a sort of cold open #anyway #hope you enjoy!!

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