#i put stickers and wrote his name on it with sharpie...

[smile-files]

welcome to grayfur's house!!

#dandy's doodles #calico critters #grayfur is my little calico critters bunny that i got when i was little #and at the time i found this little apple house - not sure what it was originally from - and i made it his home! #i put stickers and wrote his name on it with sharpie... #he was so dear to me so i rather spoiled him out of all of our calico critters didn't i? haha #i embroidered a little smiley face yesterday and i decided to put it in his house as a rug!! <3 #he's so sweet!! i hope you love him and his cozy little apple house as much as i do :)

[baker-coded]

Barbie and Ken {S.H.}

𝓟𝓪𝓲𝓻𝓲𝓷𝓰: Steve Harrington x reader

𝓦𝓸𝓻𝓭 𝓬𝓸𝓾𝓷𝓽: 870

𝓢𝓾𝓶𝓶𝓪𝓻𝔂: Steve sees you for the first time in a while at the bookstore while getting a present from Robin.

𝓐/𝓝: I wrote this in an hour. Be nice. Also I'm back to writing again so woo fucking hoo. This is set up to be a series btw. And Barbie isn't reader's name but I really hate typing {Y/N} personally. It feels unnatural to me. Anyway. Enjoy <3

Ah yes, Steve Harrington. He goes by many names. "Steve". "Steven". "The Hair". "King Steve". And, sometimes, simply "Harrington" by teammates and coaches... and rivals. Most notably Billy Hargrove.

But this story isn't about those two.

It's about you. And Steve.

You've gone by a few names yourself in your high school years and post-high school it's like no one bothered to learn your name.

"Queen Barbie" is what they called you. "Queen Barbie" was known as a sweet girl by most people and regarded as a bitch to others. But nothing played into your "Barbie" persona as much as your love for the color pink and the smile that constantly adorned your face.

Always smiling even while you worked. It was a job you loved in all fairness. A bookstore. Quiet. Not a lot of people passing through. And you loved it.

The bookstore was a nice change of pace from high school. It was small and family owned. Not by your family of course, you and your family had... issues to say the least. But that's a story for another time.

In school you wore hot pinks and baby pinks paired with white or gold. Working you went for more muted pinks. But pink is pink and nothing has made you less "Queen Barbie".

And nothing made Steve less "King Steve".

Especially when he came in to buy Robin a book for her birthday. If anything that made him better in your eyes. Steve was always kind to you but you never were into him like everyone expected you to be. He was sweet to you but you knew he was kind of an asshole to others.

He came up to the counter with a copy of Patience and Sarah. You saw the book before him and got excited about it.

"Oh this is a wonderful book. Good choice." You said happily as you took it. You turned the book on its back and put the price in the register as you spoke. "It's about a woman and her lover, who's another woman. One of the main characters is pretty masculine and she eventually 'transitions' to a man kinda. Then she goes by- You know what? I'm sorry. I'm rattling on. Uh... it's five nineteen."

Steve just smiled and nodded at you as he got out his wallet. "I didn't know you read that much Barbie."

Your head snapped up to see Steve, in all his glory. His hair was shorter than you remembered, maybe a bit flatter. He was definitely more muscular but you didn't really know what he's been doing to be so much stronger looking.

You hadn't realized how he had freckles in school. They looked good. And he had the prettiest eyes. And he also-

"Uh... receipt?" Your mouth stopped your thoughts. Auto pilot can really be a bitch sometimes.

Steve seemed to be in the same boat. He looked startled when you asked. "Oh, uh, yes please. It's a gift for a friend."

You smiled and handed him the receipt. "I think we have gift wrap in the back. I can wrap it for you!" You offered, totally not still thinking about his eyes and freckles.

Steve's eyes widened as he nodded. "Please. Their birthday is tomorrow."

"King Steve doing something last minute? I'm surprised!" You teased. "I'll go wrap it."

You took the book and went into the back room to wrap it. It wasn't official wrapping paper. It was just brown paper with book covers printed on it. You put a "To/from" sticker on it and came out with a sharpie.

Steve was standing awkwardly by the counter and his face lit up when he saw you with the now wrapped book. He went to grab it from you and you pulled the book back.

"I remember your handwriting." Was all you said to him. You set the book on the counter and took the lid from the sharpie. "Who's it for?"

"Robin Bobbin Buckley."

You blinked at him in confusion. "Is that their name or...?"

"It's more of an in joke."

"Cute."

You could have sworn Steve's cheeks turned pink slightly but you had no idea. You knew he didn't really blush so it was hard to decipher if it was blush or the summer heat was seeping into the store.

Steve rocked back and forth for a few moments as you wrote down what he told you. You had barely finished when he blurted out: "Barbie let's go on a date."

"What?"

Steve stumbled for a second before finally getting out a coherent phrase. "Date. Me. Please?"

You smiled and handed him the book. "How about in two days yeah? Your friends birthday is tomorrow."

Steve smiled and took the book from you. "I can do that. That works. Movies?"

"Just like school."

"Exactly Barbie." He chuckled. "I know how much you love drive-ins and milkshakes."

"It's fun!"

"I agree! That's why Saturday at 8 is going to be the perfect time."

"I can't wait Steve."

Steve left the store as casually as he could before absolutely freaking out in his car. He couldn't believe he got you. And he was gonna do his damnedest to keep you.

#●∘◦ stranger things ◦∘● #━ ◦ steve harrington ◦━ #stranger things #stranger things x reader #stranger things x you #stranger things x y/n #steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington x y/n fluff

[grandpageepa]

I'm on a heavily perfumed bus ride back home and one of my nostrils are burning from the stale air of cheap fragrance. My head is throbbing. Mondays at the office have started and I tell everyone that my life has ended. I've been told this is dramatic. I've been telling people that if it's outrageous to escape into the confines of the kitchen for 30 mins, it's certainly outrageous to strap a person to a chair for the next 8 hours. Our hearts are in jeopardy, so quite literally, what I said earlier is not far from the truth. After a long day at the office, it was truly enjoyable to poke fun at everyone today and lighten everyone, but I did it for my own amusement which in turn convinced others it was a happy experience to rejoice in. I'm super zooded, more so than the expected expectation. Today, I volunteered my fellow co worker to participate in the yearly ping pong tournament except I let everyone know he was #1 without having ever to really have played. This could be the plot of a movie.. where he takes nothing and turns it into something. We spent the day laughing and talking shit. I put his name down in pencil faintly with no pressure, I added #1 to it and he called me out on Slack. He went to sharpie it out as he had threatened on lunch time. I quickly taped the paper with white sticker and wrote back in ultra fine sharpie, #1....now hanging in the kitchen sprawled with potential contenders ready to win $100 while guests and co workers look on.

[little-fam-ily]

Build a Bear (Sanders Sides Agere Oneshot)

Read it on ao3

Rating: G

Word Count: 4,079

Characters: CG Logan and Patton, Agere Virgil

Pairings: Queerplatonic Analogical, platonic Analogicality

Warnings: Kink mention

Summary: In which Logan and Virgil take a trip to Build a Bear (brought to you by a Build a Bear employee).

Virgil’s eyes widened as he stared at the commercial on the TV. It was for Build a Bear, talking about how you can put different sounds in ‘your new furry friends’. He smiled around his pacifier. “Lolo!” He called to Logan, his caregiver.

Logan popped his head in from the kitchen, “What is it?” 

Virgil pointed to the TV. Logan was able to catch just the end of the ad. “Virgil, I don’t think-” He stopped himself as he looked at Virgil’s wide, pleading eyes. “Oh, oh Virgil, don’t,” He sighed, “You know what the puppy eyes do to me.”

Virgil just let out a whine. Logan looked at him sternly, “You know they’re very expensive, Virgil.”

He nodded, “I know…” He glanced away, cheeks red. Logan shook his head, thinking about it, “Well, it’s almost your birthday anyway, We’ll make a day of it.”

Virgil smiled wide, “Weally?”

Logan nodded, “Really really.”

Virgil jumped up and embraced him in a hug, squeezing tight, “T’ank you, Lolo!”

Soon the day came, and Virgil and Logan sat in the car, getting ready to go into the mall. Virgil was sucking his thumb, and Logan was looking at him with concern, “Do you think you can be big enough to pass?”

Virgil glanced at him, cheeks turning pink. He dragged his thumb out of his mouth, stopping at the tip where he could still bite down.

Logan sighed, “Better.” He paused before he spoke up again, “Virgil, it’s nothing to be ashamed of. You don’t have to hide it if you don’t want to.”

Virgil whined, “I jus’, don’ wan’ people t’inking i’s kink.” He murmured around his thumb.

Logan nodded, “That’s understandable. But what we do is none of their business. I’m pretty sure the average person doesn’t care, and if they do, then they’re not a good person.”

Virgil glanced away. Logan let out a sympathetic breath, “Well, if you’re ready I’m ready.”

Virgil nodded. Logan stepped out of the car, then helped Virgil out of the car. They walked into the mall holding hands.

The line to Build a Bear was already a mile long. They got in, and Virgil was ancy with anticipation. The wait seemed like hours. Logan could tell he was getting impatient, so he squeezed his hand. They smiled at each other.

Finally they got to the door. They were greeted by a young woman with long brown hair and a wide smile. Her name tag read Valerie.

“Hey there! What brings you to the workshop today?” She smiled. Virgil panicked, looking to Logan for help.

“It’s his birthday next week, but I thought I’d take him early.” Logan turned to her. Her smile grew wider, “Wow, that’s great!” She got out a sharpie and a pack of stickers from her apron, “How old are you turning, sweetheart?”

Virgil took a deep breath, preparing himself to answer, “Twenty.”

“And your name?”

“V-” He started, but stopped himself, having to pause for another moment, “Virgil.”

She wrote everything down, tearing the sticker off and handing it to him, “And have you built a bear with us before?”

Logan and Virgil glanced at each other, then back to her, shaking their heads. 

Valerie kept her smile, “So to your left is the wall where we have our whole selection of bears to choose from. Once you pick your new friend you’ll head over to the sound station to pick any scents or sounds that you’d like. 

“Then you’ll come around over to that blue square where we’ll stuff your friend and perform the heart ceremony. After we get them stitched up you’ll go to the back wall to get their clothing and accessories, head to Station 4 to give them a name, and then you’ll be all ready to check out and take your new friend home!”

Virgil’s breathing became shallow. That was a lot to keep track of. Logan sensed his anxiety, squeezing his hand, “Ready to head on in?”

He looked at him, hesitantly nodding his head. Valerie opened the rope barrier and stepped aside, gesturing for them to enter.

They stepped in, and Virgil was already overwhelmed by the large selection of stuffed animals. There were more than bears, there were rabbits and cats and monkeys and unicorns. There were themed bears too, like Frozen and Star Wars and Paw Patrol.

Virgil’s eyes scanned the wall, biting down on his thumb hard. Logan stepped up to him, “I know it’s a lot to think about, and there are a lot of steps, but I remember all of it, and I will be with you every step of the way.”

Virgil nodded, then his eyes widened as they settled on a fluffy brown bear with the Harry Potter logo printed on its back paw. He pointed to it, “Harry Potter bear.”

Logan smirked, “You want that one? We can put some Ravenclaw accessories on it.”

Virgil smiled wide, nodding. He grabbed the unstuffed pelt and felt the fur, holding it close to his chest.

Logan smiled at his little, then noticed the birthday sticker still in his hand. “Here, let me help you with that,” He took the sticker, peeled it off the back, and stuck it right on Virgil’s jacket, “There we go.”

Virgil smiled at him, leaning on his chest. They stayed like that for a bit, then a young man with an apron walked up to them with a smile, “Have we picked our new friend?”

Virgil looked at Logan, then at the man, who’s name tag read Terrence, nodding.

“Alright! Right this way,” Terrence beckoned them over to a white counter with computers on each end. He reached for Virgil’s bear, “Can I see him real quick?”

Virgil glanced at Logan, then hesitantly handed over the pelt. Terrence pulled a sharpie out of his apron and started writing on the tag, “I see your name is Virgil, is that right?”

Virgil nodded. Terrence put the sharpie away, “And I can also see it’s your birthday! Well, have a very happy birthday,” He smiled, then continued, “Now, we have some scents you can choose from. We have strawberry, birthday cake, cotton candy, and bubblegum.”

Both Virgil and Logan took some time smelling the scents. “Strawberry,” Virgil decided.

“Alright!” Terrence got out his sharpie and wrote some things down on the tag, then took an unopened scent packet, peeled a sticker off, then stuck the sticker on the tag. The scent was a plastic disk shaped like a bear head.

“Now we get to pick a sound we put in the paw of the bear right here.” He showed them the right paw, which had a little heart shaped patch on it.

Virgil smiled. This was the part he was the most excited for. 

Terrence moved to one of the computer monitors, “Here is the sound station, we have a huge selection of sounds to choose from. You can scroll up and down as well as side to side. There are generic animal sounds, themed sounds from movies and TV. I see you picked a Harry Potter bear, maybe you’d like a Harry Potter sound?”

Virgil thought about it, scrolling through the Harry Potter selection. He looked, but decided it would be best to just pick the theme from the movie.

He pressed the icon, jumping at the loud noise coming from the computer. Logan grabbed his hand and squeezed it tight, rubbing the back of his hand with his thumb.

“Alright, I’m just gonna scan his tag really quick.” Terrence moved the tag under the scanner. “Now you’re going to grab one of those chips,” He pointed to a hole in the counter which housed a bunch of plastic sound bytes shaped like bear heads. Virgil did as he was told, holding it tight.

“Place it right here,” He pointed to a little divot in the counter where the chip fit perfectly. Virgil set it right in. Then Terrence pressed the ‘buy’ button on the screen, which started loading. It only took a couple of seconds for the sound to be transferred to the chip.

“Great! Now press it to see if it works.” Terrence smiled. Virgil pressed it, holding it up to his ear. That was a bad idea, as he immediately had to move it away.

“Looks like it works!” Terrence chuckled, then took the chip and pushed it into the bear’s paw. “You’re all set! Once that group is done with their heart ceremony you’ll move right on up to that blue square where my friend Mr. Patton will get this little guy all stuffed up for yah.”

Logan and Virgil nodded. “Thank you,” Logan smiled, then turned towards the machine. Virgil tried to get a look at what was going on up ahead, but they were too far away to see or hear anything.

The wait seemed like forever, but soon it was their turn. The young man working the machine got up from his chair and turned towards them, “Alright folks, are we all good to go?”

Virgil smiled slightly as he noticed a shiny they/them pin on their apron. They had a mop of curly brown hair on their head, and circular glasses were perched on their freckled nose.

He looked at Logan, then nodded. Patton smiled, “Great! I’m gonna have you come around this way to that blue square over there.” They pointed to a large blue sticker on the floor next to the front counter. It had white paw prints on it.

They both stepped on the square, waiting to get started.

“See, the thing about this machine is that it needs energy to get it working, right?” Patton started as they put the pelt on the nozzle. “So that means you gotta either hop hop hop! Or clap clap clap! Or wiggle wiggle wiggle! To get the machine running. Do you think you can do that, kiddo?”

Virgil’s eyes widened as he blushed at the pet name. Yes, he did indeed want to clap clap clap, or hop hop hop, or wiggle wiggle wiggle, but he didn’t want to do it alone. He tugged on Logan’s sleeve. Logan blinked, “Oh, do I? Do I have to do it too?”

“If you want!” Patton smiled. Logan sighed, rolling his eyes, but nodded.

“Alright, let’s do this!” Patton exclaimed as they turned on the machine. Logan and Virgil started clapping, and Patton stepped on a pedal, moving the bear around the nozzle to get the stuffing in every limb, its chest, and its head.

“Alright! Great job kiddo!” Patton smiled as they took their foot off the pedal and the bear off the nozzle, checking it themself to see if it was the right softness.

“Now for the scent. Do you want it in the head or the belly?” They asked. Virgil bit down on his thumb. There were so many decisions to make! It was getting a bit much.

Logan sensed this, “We’ll do it in the belly.”

“Okay,” Patton smiled, taking the disc out of its plastic sleeve and slipping it into the bear through the hole in the back. 

“Now we get to choose a heart! There’s either a red satin heart or a checkered heart.” Patton picked up two felt hearts from two bins on the machine and held them up, “Which one would you like, kiddo?”

Virgil’s eyes flitted between the two. After a pause Patton spoke up, "I know, it's a hard decision to make."

After another moment Virgil decided on the red one, pointing to it. Patton smiled, "Alright!" They placed the heart to the side, then picked another heart up, this one big and plastic, "We also have a beating heart option! We put it in the chest of the bear, and when you press down on it, it beats like a heart!"

Virgil’s eyes widened. He looked at Logan with them, pouting his lip a little. Logan smiled at him, giving him a nod. Virgil turned back to Patton, nodding enthusiastically.

"Okay!" Patton smiled, taking a heart, peeling the sticker off, and putting the sticker on the tag. They then placed the heart right in the front of the bear’s chest where a human’s heart would be.

“Now,” Patton said as they got up from their chair and took the now stuffed bear and the heart to the counter Logan and Virgil were standing next to. 

“We are going to perform what is called the ‘squish test’. Which means you take your new friend and you give him the biggest hug that you possibly can!” They wrapped their arms around themself, “To see if he’s either as soft or firm enough as you want.”

They turned to Logan, “And if he’s too firm we can always take stuffing out, and if he’s too soft we can always put stuffing in.”

Logan nodded, then turned to Virgil, “Do you want to give him a hug?”

Virgil nodded, walking up to where the bear was sitting and grabbing it, feeling its arms, legs, chest, and head. He then embraced it in his arms, holding it as tight as he could. He smiled as he felt the pulsing of the heartbeat.

“Is he good?” Patton asked. Virgil turned to him, nodding. 

“Perfect!” They smiled, “If you would put your friend back on the hug station, we are going to perform the Heart Ceremony,” They put emphasis on the last two words, “The most important step in this entire process! You’re going to take your heart.”

It took a minute for the request to process in his brain, but Virgil went back to the counter, put the bear back where it was sitting, and grabbed his heart.

“Now we gotta get it beating, alright kiddo? So you’re going to take it, hold it up like this,” They held it high above their head. Virgil did the same.

“And you gotta wiggle it like this!” Patton started waving their hand around. A smile broke out on Virgil’s face as he mimicked their movements. They wiggled for a moment, Patton giggling, “Do you think you got it beating, kiddo?”

Virgil nodded, smile not fading. Patton smiled at him, “Alright, now you’re going to go to your new friend, and you gotta wave it in his ears so that he’s a good listener!”

Virgil stepped over to the bear and waved the heart over its ears.

“Wave it on his arms so he can give you great big hugs!”

He waved it over its arms.

“Wave it on his legs so he can run and play with you all day!”

He waved it over its legs.

“Now grip your heart, hold it close, and make a great big wish!”

He held it close to his chest, closed his eyes and made his wish, I wish for me and Logan to live together forever.

“Did you make your wish?” Patton smiled. Virgil opened his eyes, smiling back as he nodded.

“Great! Now you get to do the honor of putting that heart into your friend through the hole in the back.”

Virgil grabbed the bear and shoved the heart in as far as it could go. 

Patton gave a nod, “Alright, now if you would put your friend back on the hug station and step right back on that blue square, I’m gonna do the hard job of stitching him up, okay?”

Virgil nodded, doing as he was told. Patton stepped up to the counter and started pulling on the stitches. They glanced at Virgil's sticker, “I see it’s your birthday today!”

“In a week,” Logan corrected them. They nodded, “Oh! Okay, well, happy early birthday!” They looked closer, “And you’re turning twenty! Wow! I turned twenty this January!”

“Interesting.” Logan commented. Patton tied the last knot, cutting the extra string off. “Alright! This little guy is good to go! I’m gonna have you come around this way,” they pointed to their right, “to the back to pick out his clothing and accessories. Then you’ll take that tag to station 4 and scan it to give him his name!”

“Alright, thank you.” Logan smiled, leading Virgil around the direction Patton pointed them towards. Virgil looked back one last time to see Patton waving at him. He waved back shyly.

Thankfully the Harry Potter clothing section was right next to the stuffed animal section. Virgil’s eyes scanned the wall. He definitely wanted the traditional robes and a wand. But then he spotted a Quidditch uniform, along with a broom and a snitch.

He gasped slightly, turning to Logan, who nodded, “You can get both outfits if you’d like.”

Virgil whined, “But i’s ‘spensive…” He glanced away, biting his thumb.

Logan chuckled, “Virgil, it’s your birthday, and it’s you. You’re worth it. Besides, I’m getting paid soon anyway, so it doesn’t really matter.”

Virgil scrunched his nose, but took both the normal uniform and accessories and the Quidditch uniform and accessories off the hangers. He had to get on his tip-toes to reach some of them, but he got the hang of it.

“I’m guessing he’s a seeker, hm?” Logan hummed. Virgil nodded. Logan gave a nod back, “Alright, let’s give him a name, shall we?”

They walked over to the back corner on the other side of the store, where Station 4 was. Logan pressed some buttons, scanned the tag, and a menu popped up asking them to put in information for the bear’s birth certificate.

Now it was time to pick a name. Virgil bit down on his thumb, thinking very hard. Logan tilted his head, “What would you like to name him?”

Virgil smiled mischievously, “Logan!”

Logan scoffed, “Virgil, please. Pick an original name!”

“I’s original! ‘N Logan’s my favorite name!” Virgil beamed, turning back to the screen and typing in the name, “Logan the seeker.”

After the bear’s birth certificate was printed out, they walked up to the cash register. The young man standing at the register’s name tag read Joan. “Alright, are we all set?”

Logan nodded, putting all their findings on the counter. Virgil bit down on his thumb as he watched Joan scan the tags, starting to zone out. He wasn’t really interested in this part.

“Would you like to dress it here or when you get home?” Joan asked him. His eyes widened as he was snapped out of his daydreaming. He looked at them, then at Logan, then back to them. “Um, home,” He responded, now ancy to leave.

“Alright, would you like to hold it or put it in a box?” They asked. Virgil whined a bit under his breath. This was way too many questions for one day. “Box.”

Joan nodded at his firm answer. “Alright, with all of the accessories, your total comes out to one hundred and thirty five dollars, and forty five cents.”

Virgil gasped, looking at Logan with concern. That was a huge number. Logan just smiled at him reassuringly, “It’s alright Virgil, I really don’t mind,” He turned to Joan, “He’s a little concerned with money right now.”

“Oh I totally understand that,” They gave a smile, “I mean, I’m working two jobs and even I can’t afford to pay rent sometimes.” They turned back to the computer, muttering to themself, “Late stage capitalism.”

They took the bear and put it in a box, then bagged up all the clothes, “You should be all set. Oh! It’s your birthday! We have to ring the birthday bell!”

As they picked up a large bell from the shelf behind them, Logan squeezed Virgil’s hand, “It’s going to make a very loud noise, Virgil.”

Virgil looked at him as he braced himself. The loud ring of the bell crashed in his ears, running through his entire body. He cringed as he shut his eyes, stopping himself from covering his ears.

Then it was over, and he was able to open his eyes again. Logan leaned into his ear, “Good job.” He smiled. Virgil smiled back.

Then they were all good to go. Logan took the box and the bag, and grabbed Virgil’s hand as he led both of them out.

“Have a good day, kiddo!” Patton called with a smile as they walked past the machine. They both glanced at them. “Thank you.” Logan said before finally reaching the door.

“So, what did you wish for during the heart ceremony?” Logan asked as they took their purchases and headed for other stores, mostly Hot Topic.

“I tan’t tell you!” Virgil teased, “Or it won’t tome true.”

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

Patton smiled to themself as they walked into the back room, unlocking their locker and taking their backpack out. Once they made sure everything was still in check, they took their apron off and slipped it in their locker, closing it and locking it again.

Today was another great day at work. Patton loved their job, really loved their job. They got to interact with all the cute kids and families that came in, and they adored all the smiles and giggles the heart ceremony provided.

There was always at least one memorable family that came in, and today it was a young couple, one of which had his birthday today. His name was Virgil, Patton remembered.

He was memorable because of one fact. Patton could see it in his eyes, in his posture, in his energy.

Patton got to meet a little.

They themself had been a babysitter for a couple of years now. Their friend Roman was a little, and when her partner Janus was busy, Patton got to babysit her. It brought them a lot of comfort and happiness, and they one day hoped to have a little of their own.

A pang of disappointment hit their chest. Virgil seemed so adorable and fun and loving, but it looked like he already had a caregiver. But they were happy for him nonetheless.

They brought themself out of their thoughts as they headed on out, waving goodbye to their coworkers. Their brisk walking speed got them to the food court fairly quickly, where they planned to have sushi for lunch.

But their eyes widened as they caught sight of a couple across the food court. It was Virgil and his caregiver! A smile broke out on their face, and they knew they had to take this opportunity to get to know them better.

They rushed to Virgil’s table, slowing down a bit as they got closer, “Hey! You guys are still here!”

They both turned to them, and Virgil jumped, quickly taking his thumb out of his mouth. His caregiver nodded, “Yes, we took a bit of time to do some extra shopping and get some food.”

“Yeah, I’m glad I was able to catch you guys! It was just the end of my shift so…” They smiled, trailing off a bit. “We didn’t really get to actually meet. I’m Patton!” They held out their hand.

“Logan,” Virgil’s caregiver took it, shaking firmly. Virgil just waved slightly, “Virgil.”

“Yeah, well, it was really nice to meet you guys! I hope you had fun, I always do.” They laughed nervously, trying so desperately not to make it awkward.

“Yes, I can confirm that our experience was most enjoyable, don’t you agree, Virgil?” Logan said, then turned to him. He nodded with a small smile on his face.

Patton stood there for a moment. They knew what they wanted to do, they just didn’t know if they had the guts to actually do it. “Hey, I don’t usually do stuff like this, but, can I get your guys’ Instagrams?”

“Oh, I don’t have one, but, Virgil? If that’s alright with you?” Logan asked him. He looked to Logan, then to Patton, but eventually nodded. 

Patton smiled wide, “Great! Uh, here’s my phone, you can just put it in.” They handed Virgil their phone. He took it, quickly typing in his username in the search bar. He handed it back to them, a shy smile on his face.

“Great! Thank you! Again, it was really nice meeting you!” Patton beamed.

“It was a pleasure meeting you as well, Patton.” Logan responded. Virgil nodded in agreement.

Patton let out a sigh of relief, giving one last wave before heading down the food court the other way. They couldn’t help but continue to smile as they skipped along, soon reaching the sushi restaurant. They didn’t know how yet, but they knew this was the start of something special.

#agere #age regression #sanders sides agere #sanders sides age regression #sanders sides #tss #tss fanfic #sanders sides fanfic #age regression fanfic #analogical #logicality #moxiety #analogicality #logan sanders #virgil sanders #patton sanders #cg logan #cg patton #agere virgil #queerplatonic #tw kink mention #kink mention tw

[gothamsglam]

Can I have Your Name? (a SamBucky ficlet)

for @samshield hope you enjoy 😘

(also on ao3 under @/the_fifth_marauder101)

---

“Thanks, can I have your name?” asked Bucky with a charming smile on his face, pulling out a sharpie. However, instead of writing on an empty class as the poor customer thought, he scribbled down “Tony” on one of those ‘Hello, my name is…’ stickers.

“That’s a wonderful name by the way,” Bucky compliments, because fck you Steve, he can be polite. 

He fcking told Steve going into customer service was a great idea. Idiot wanted to continue doing door to door shit, or, even worse, mope around forests for wandering travelers. He told him it wasn’t the 1400s anymore, and to grow up. Damn the supernatural council and their ‘hunt in pairs’ rule, he will go rouge and leave Stevie, he will do it. 

“I’m this close,” Bucky had hissed, holding his fingers in the air so Stevie could see, 

“Your fingers are touching,” Steve deadpanned. 

“Exactly.”

The man doesn’t look up from his flurry of typing, “Thank you, it’s a family name.”

“Sure,” Bucky replies quietly “Alright, your order will be right out,” Bucky grinned, replacing his name tag with the new one without looking away from the brown-haired customer. The second the tag sticks to his shirt, he feels a refreshing rush of energy. Kind of like what he imagines those ‘caffeine/sugar rush’ those damn teens keep harping about. 

“Thank y—” The customer—Tony—looks up from his phone to flash him a grin, only to have it fall from his face when he sees the name tag. 

This was the fun part. Bucky didn’t break eye contact, maintaining it with the same smile, only now he could tell it felt eerie to the human. Like something wasn’t right. 

The man’s brown eyes flitted up and down between Bucky’s face and the name tag, before he surged forward, “What di—”

“Have a good day,” Bucky bit out, still keeping the smile and cheery customer service tone. His eyes were blank, he made sure of it. Honestly, this whole song and dance was unnecessary. Stevie usually just wrote the name tags, and then stuck them on as he was making the drinks. Their shop was typically slow enough that there wouldn’t be people behind to question why the tender had a new name. But Bucky loved to fck with humans. What the hell else was he supposed to do? He’s been alive for 70 generations, let him have his fun. 

However, today was a bit different. Another two walked into the shop, Bucky didn’t see it as much as he felt it. Bucky kept his back turned, hollering “Welcome to Stars and Stripes, I’ll be with you in just a moment,” over his shoulder as he made the three drinks. What asshole ordered three drinks?

Bucky’s question was answered when he saw the two men walk over to Tony’s table. One of them kissed Tony on the cheek and the other just faux-gagged before giving Tony a hug as well. Bucky called out the order, eyes tracking the way Tony mumbled something to the two men and both reacted oddly, as they probably should. Bucky would expect no less. 

Apparently, he jinxed himself, because the man who hugged Tony came to pick up the drinks. 

“Nice name,” said the man.

“Thanks,” Bucky flashed his uncanny valley smile and offered nothing else. The man winked and then walked back to the table. 

Bucky did not look at his ass, he didn’t. 

---

The next day, the man comes in. Not Tony, but other guy. The cute one. 

“Hi my name’s Jacob, how may I help you today?” Bucky asks politely. 

The man, to his credit, didn’t bat an eyelash, “Hi I’ll have three—” And he rattled off the same order that Tony had. Bucky resisted the urge to frown, maybe it was just a two-time thing? This group has only come into their shop once before, what are the odds of it happening again, for a third time?

“Perfect,” Bucky slid the receipt across the counter, “Can I have your name?” Bucky asked, as he reached for a pen. 

“Nope,” the man replied. 

Bucky froze in his moments, “What?”

The man shrugged, face showing nothing but politeness, “I’m the only person in this store, you’ll be able to find me.”

Bucky was stunned as he watched him walk back to the spot the trio was in the other day. As he sat down, the man gave a nod of acknowledgment to Bucky, who was still staring. 

His brown—almost hazelnut with the light of the sun—eyes stared into Bucky’s own, and in them all he saw was mischief. 

Fck.

---

For the next two days, Bucky kept a—subtle, he wasn’t obsessed or anything—watch out for Tony or The Man. And for those two days, he didn’t see hide or hair of them. Bucky figured they must have been college students from nearby campuses, wandering in when Starbucks was too full, which happens often enough. Then on the third day, he returned. 

“Hey, Jacob” greeted The Man, his smile so bright—so bright that Nat would have burned like she does under the sun and threaten to bite the man in the jugular. Bucky, who was too gobsmacked to even deliver his customer service opening, stared at him. 

“Not Jacob,” Bucky said, his voice strangled. 

The Man chuckled, his eyes sparkling with the same look from the first day he ordered, “Ok ‘Not Jacob’, may I have—” And repeated the same order from the last two times. 

“Um, right, uh” Bucky stammered, face growing hot as The Man raised an eyebrow at him smugly, “Can I have your name?”

“Put Redwing,” The Man said, shrugging. The corner of his lips pulled upwards into a happy smirk—how can a person have a fcking happy smirk?—, not that Bucky was only looking at his lips or anything. 

“Redwing?” Bucky asked, stupidly. Because why ask, idiot, why ask for clarification? He read somewhere that the psyche is powerful enough to make the body do things, like fake pregnancies. Whether that’s something only reserved to humans is up for debate, but maybe, if Bucky doesn’t ask and lives in blissful ignorance, he can feed off of a fake name. But no, because he’s a bloody fool, he asked. 

“It’s my pet’s name,” The Man answered, then looked tilted his head, giving a sheepish smile, “Or at least, that’s what I want to name a pet, I don’t have one.”

“Right,” Said Bucky, suddenly feeling empty in ways that have nothing to do with hunger, “Your order will be right out.”

Their conversation was longer than normal, so when the man went to sit down, the couple came in moments afterward. All three sat in the same place as before. 

‘Oh no,’ Bucky thought in dawning horror, ‘Regulars.’ 

---

“Falcon,” grins The Man, now foregoing any attempts to be subtle and simply being a little shit.

Bucky looked at him, face void of any amusement. At this point, he’s shucked the polite customer service voice and snarked back and forth with the regular like there’s no tomorrow—only in this situation, there is a tomorrow, there always is tomorrow.

Their staring contest probably goes on for a bit too long, judging by the way Tony and his boyfriend—Bucky can feel comfortable calling the two a couple, based on how disgustingly affectionate the two get in the cafe—walk in. 

The Man flashed a smile and turned away to greet the couple. An audible ‘Rhodey!’ reached Bucky’s ears. Now, finally, he has a name for one of the dark-skinned men, the one who kissed Tony’s cheek and was currently walking in with said Tony, arm around his shoulders. Only Bucky doesn’t feel that familiar warmth pool in his gut, refreshing his energy levels. 

‘Oh,’ Bucky thinks, and watches as the man—his regular—laughs with his friends but also how his eyes flit back to peek at Bucky as names are spoken. ‘oh, loopholes.’

Bucky is so screwed. 

---

The names his regular gives become increasingly goofy, and Steve teases him about how flirty they get—Bucky absolutely didn’t have a favorite, and it absolutely wasn’t Angel. But Bucky only believed Stevie when he got a number instead of a random moniker. 

“What?” Bucky short-circuited. 

The man just sighed, “Come on, I gave you my number, work with me here.”

“You finally did it, huh, Sam?” Tony called out from where he was typing away on his computer, which rested on Rhodey’s legs. Rhodey, who was sprawled out in one of their chairs, nudged Tony with his foot, “Shush, let them have this.”

‘Sam,’ Bucky thinks,  and all he can come up with in his blue screened mind is, ‘Perfect’.

In his phone, the name Sam’s contact is under is ‘Angel’.

Steve heckles. 

---

“How did you know, Angel?”

Sam looks at Bucky, and Bucky’s struck into silence, The whole world falls around them in muted sounds and lights fade into balls of blurry color, because as they lock gazes all Bucky can notice is Sam’s eyes. Sam’s eyes—his wonderful, soul-deep eyes that shine with mischief and laughter, that glow so bright and rival the heavens when the sunlight reflects off it just so—are sad. 

“My friend,” Sam says quietly, “Riley. He was one of yours.”

Bucky nods, and reaches out with his metal hand—an injury from decades ago and a gift from a shapeshifter who hissed that his debt was repaired before slithering off into the night—pulling Sam closer to him. They watch the sun go down from the top of the roof, the stars revealed one by one, twinkling against the darkness of the dusk. 

---

(One day, Bucky will ask for Sam’s name again, specifically his last name. Only then, will Sam reply honestly.)

---

AN: This is a more bastardized version of faeries/fae, I just made up my own creature for what Bucky and Steve are. Simply because I just wanted to write a little ficlet about SamBucky and didn’t do much research. Don’t think too hard about it :)

(and the link to the Tik Tok I saw on tumblr that inspired this is also linked on my ao3 fic)

Hope you enjoyed! 

-vix

#sambucky #sambucky fic #sambucky fanfic #bucky barnes #sam wilson #sam wilson fanfic #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes fic #sam wilson fic #sam wilson x bucky barnes #the falcon #the winter soldier #winter soldier #supernatural creatures au #modern au with magic #background tonyrhodey #mcu #mcu fic #mcu fanfic #marvel fic #marvel fanfic #marvel #ficlet #my writing #vix writes #crossposted on ao3 #inspired by a tik tok i saw on tumblr #link to tik tok on my ao3

[lonelyreputation]

Caught

A/N:  Hello hello! Here’s some (more) fluff!! Who am I? But anyway, I wrote this from this sensory request and it was actually the first request I GOT ON THIS BLOG (!!!) so I'm so sorry that it’s coming so late!! But I’ll always remember this request bc it was the first🥺 

Anywaayyyy thank you all so much for reading, sending me the nicest messages, reblog-ing, and requesting prompts!! I get so much motivation from you all it’s insane!! Thank you!! I appreciate every single one of you!!

PROMPT: Licking your fingers while eating Cheetos

Chat Chat Chat | MASTERLIST

Warnings: One (1) swear word & a bit of a heated make out session😶

Word Count: 3.9K

Being a twenty-year-old and playing sold out shows in stadiums around the world was abnormal.  But what was more abnormal was that the twenty-year-old who spent most of his time on a tour bus than in his own apartment was your boyfriend.  Not many people could say that their boyfriend was in Amsterdam one day and then Paris the next.  

Shawn had spent spring in Europe on a tourbus and hotel rooms, and his summer wasn’t much different, except for the fact that he was on his North American leg of the tour.  He had convinced you to come traveling across America; it was more in your budget and convenient with your university schedule.

Every now and then, Shawn would have some down time, but it wasn’t very often.  He kept apologizing whenever he was pulled away and promised to spend time with you more.  But you didn’t mind.  Shawn had given you a front seat to his career and everything it entails.  And it was fascinating.  You would be in one city and everyone would already be advancing for a show that was two weeks away.  The precision and detail of obscure jobs that some crew had gone over your head in the past, but seeing all the mechanics of everything that goes on for the show to happen…it made you appreciate Shawn’s performances even more.

You had gotten fairly close with Shawn’s head of tour merchandiser, Dane, and often found yourself helping him set up the merchandise stands when Shawn was off at a meet and greet, sound check, or wherever Andrew had pulled him away to.  

“Are you playing in the little soccer match they have going on later today?” You asked Dane as you carried over a large brown cardboard box. 

He held up a finger to you as he finished up his count in of tour posters and typed it on a tour merchandise app on his phone, “Yeah, you?”

You shook your head as you used a key to tear through the sealed box.  Once the tape that held the box together was ripped, you opened the four flaps and saw that you were counting in some sweatshirts.  Silently, you counted ten sweatshirts, put them in a pile on the side with a sticky note on top with a number ten circled and then counted out another ten sweatshirts. 

“I’ve never been good with hand eye coordination,” you didn’t look up at him as you continued to count ten sweatshirts, “I’ve always been better at cheering people on from the sides.”

“Oh, I’ve noticed.”

You had just finished circling a ten on a neon green sticky note as you capped the sharpie and looked at Dane, “You’ve noticed?”

Dane nodded with a smile on his face as he hung up a piece of paper with a blown up image of a keychain; he stuck a large sticker with the price of the keychain on the corner of the paper.  He hung it up on the black tapestry so that way fans would be able to see it before they got up to the front of the merchandise line.

“You’re always there for Shawn when he walks on and off stage.  I don’t think I’ve ever seen you go to the bathroom when he’s performing.”

You blushed as you finished counting the last of the sweatshirts in the box you carried in, “It’s not that big of a deal.”

“He loves it,” Dane took a t-shirt and clipped the sleeves of it to the top of the tapestry, “The week before you came he literally wouldn’t shut up––Y/n’s coming next week, did you know?  I just love her so much!  I miss her so much!”

You bunched up a t-shirt and threw it at Dane as he miserably failed at impersonating Shawn’s voice, “He didn’t say that.”

“Ask him yourself.”

“Oh, I––“

“Ask who yourself?”

You spun your head around and came face to face with your boyfriend.  You smiled at him and threw another balled up shirt at Dane.

“Hey!  That’s merchandise we’re selling tonight!”

You waved Dane off and rested your hands on your hips, “Before I came on tour were you non-stop going around telling people I was coming and saying how much you love me and saying how much you missed me?”

Shawn still had a slight smile on his face as he gazed at you.  His facial expression hadn’t changed since he walked up behind you, so you thought you had proved Dane wrong, but that wasn’t the case when Shawn spoke up.

He shrugged his shoulders, “Yeah, why?” He spoke as if it that information was public knowledge.

Before you had the chance to say anything, you felt a soft material collide with the back of your head.  Your head slightly jerked forward from the contact of the t-shirt that was just thrown at you.  You quickly picked the shirt off the dusty ground and glared at Dane, “This is merchandise that you’re selling tonight.”

Dane barked out a laugh as he finished setting up the merchandise display.  He stood back and admired his work for a few seconds before informing Shawn he was going to check on the other stands and make sure everyone else on the merchandise team had completed their count in.  They did some sort of bro handshake, before telling one another that they’d see each other shortly for the soccer game.

Shawn walked up to your side and threw an arm over your shoulder.  You leaned your head back on his shoulder and looked up at him, “Excited for the match?”

“Yeah, just wish you were playing.”  

Your eyes closed as Shawn lightly traced circles on your upper arm with the tips of his fingers.  Shivers ran down your spine as you closed your eyes, “You’ve seen me play.”

Shawn let out a laugh as he started walking, guiding you around the main floor of the arena, “Even though it is probably a good idea that you’re not playing, it still would’ve been fun to be on the same team.”

You let out a snort as you snaked a hand around his back to pinch his hip.  Shawn lightly jerked away from you before he tickled your shoulder in retaliation, “I’d make sure we’d be on separate teams.”

“Is that so?”

You hummed in response and let the conversation die down.  Whenever a crew member passed, you offered a smile and Shawn greeted them by name.  Seeing the dynamic he had with his crew was heartwarming because you had read of horror stories of main acts being absolute divas to their crew members.

Shawn led you backstage as the two of you wandered into his dressing room.  You sat on the couch as he went over to a little duffle bag he packed just for the soccer game.  Carefully, you watched him as he bent over, staring at how his shoulder blades could be seen through his white t-shirt as he rummaged through the bag.  

Swiftly, he tore his white shirt off and you were graced with a second of seeing your boyfriend’s muscles.  The sight didn’t last long because Shawn threw his t-shirt at your face.  You scrunched your nose up at the slightly sweaty smell mixed in with his signature scent. 

“Hey!”

It only took you a second to throw the shirt off your face, but it was a second too long because Shawn was already in a vintage t-shirt and sliding on a pair of athletic shorts up past his thighs.

“That’s not fair,” you whined.

Shawn threw his head back in laughter as he picked up his sneakers.  He walked over to where you sat on the couch, picked up your legs without any hesitation, and as he sat down on the couch, he rested your calves on his thighs.

He hunched over your legs as you watched him slide his sneakers on and tie them up. The position couldn’t have been comfortable, but he managed to get his sneakers on without complaining for you to move your legs.  And you weren’t complaining about the physical contact your legs had with his thighs.

Once he was done tying his shoes, he sat up and stretched his back, a few pops emitted from his body and you flinched, not liking the sounds of bones cracking together.

Shawn rested his hands on your knees as he leaned his head on top of the couch cushion, eyes closed he said, “I don’t wanna play.”

A small chuckle left your lips, “That’s a lie.”

He turned his head slightly towards you and opened one eye, “Yeah, I do wanna play,” he let out a sigh, “but sitting here with you is so nice.”

A loud laugh escaped your lips as you looked over at him, both of his eyes now opened and intently staring at you with adoration.

“We’re literally doing nothing.”

“As long as I’m with you,” he lifted his shoulders up in a shrug, “I don’t care what we’re doing.”

Your heart skipped a beat and you couldn’t help the smile that spread across your face.  Truth is, you loved doing nothing with him.  You savored the days when all Shawn wanted to do was spend all day tangled in your bedsheets.  You adored the days when you would sit on your couch reading a book––in a similar position to how you were sitting now––and Shawn would be hunched over scribbling lyrics down in a journal, using your legs as a writing surface.

You leaned up and pressed a kiss to his cheek, “Too sweet.”

“Uh huh,” Shawn grumbled as he pointed to his lips with his index finger, “I want a real kiss.”

You pretended to think about it for a moment before swinging a leg over his lap, adjusting your knees on either side as you straddled him.  Shawn’s hands instantly moved with your body as they landed on your waist.  Unlike your hands that were pressed flat on his chest, Shawn’s hands slowly rubbed your lower back and come back around to your waist.

The only thing more heavenly than his touch was the feeling of his kiss.

Shawn craned his neck up to reach your teasing smile and captured your lips in a sweet kiss.  Your smile was slow to disappear; being in Shawn’s presence was a reason for you to  smile in itself, but once he pinched your hips silently telling you to focus on kissing him, you thought that was a good enough reason to stop smiling.

Your hands trailed up Shawn’s chest until they rounded his neck.  He hummed as he pulled you closer to his chest and your fingers began to play with the small curls on the nape of his neck.  He tilted his head to deepen the kiss at the same time his hands tightly balled up the bottom of your shirt.  He lifted your shirt at a painstakingly slow pace to the point where you wanted to rip it off yourself.

Shawn had the shirt bunched up right under your bra.  Breaking the kiss, you leaned back, untangled your arms from around his neck and raised them over your head to aid Shawn in taking your shirt off.  Once the shirt was off, he carelessly threw it somewhere behind you, and without any hesitation, Shawn reattached his lips to yours as you felt a magnetic pull bring you closer to him.

His calloused fingertips were hot on your bare skin as they danced around.  

Just as you lowered your body to grind against his, a loud single knock, followed by a Shawn, caused both of your heads to snap toward the door.  Shawn practically threw you off him as he looked for your shirt––for anything––to cover up your exposed chest.  

You were leaning back against the arm rest of the couch, trying to calm down your erratic breathing, as you watched Shawn’s eyes widened as the door handle rattled.  It looked as if Shawn threw every ounce of common sense out the window as he threw a pillow that hit you in the face.

You clutched the pillow in your hands as you briefly looked down at it, and then back to Shawn, realizing what he wanted you to do with it, “I’m not––“

“Use it, Y/n––“

“Shawn!”

Your harsh whispers were cut off when Dane walked carelessly into the room.  The pillow was still limp in your hands; in shock that Dane came into the room with little announcement.  Shawn took notice of your chest still out for Dane to see––if he hadn’t seen it already––and with panicked eyes, he flung himself from the other end of the couch to lay on top of you.

You let out an oof as you felt Shawn’s full body weight collapsed on you; the pillow nestled between your stomachs.  You had never complained about Shawn being on top of you, but with this position, the arm of the couch was digging into your back and you and causing you to cramp up.  

“Shawn,” Dane said his name again as he continued to walk further into the dressing room, “Are you gonna come and warm up? The game starts in–––Oh.”

You tried to peak over Shawn’s shoulder to gauge Dane’s facial expression, but with the way Shawn was pressed up against you, you couldn’t see him.  But from the suggestive tone of his voice, you knew that teasing would be soon to follow.

“Am I interrupting something?”

You squeaked out a not at all as Shawn let out a frustrated of fucking course.

You smacked Shawn’s back with his hand at his crude response.

Dane let out a bellowing laugh, “How ya feeling down there, y/n?”  You heard his footsteps come closer and your hands clutched the fabric of Shawn’s shirt out of nervousness, “This is pure gold.  Andrew has said that he’s never caught you two in the middle of doing something––I, of course, called total bull on that––and I’m so happy to have caught you two.”

“Dane,” You said as you drug out the vowels in his name.

His laughter rumbled through the room.  Even though Dane was the person you were closest to on Shawn’s crew, it was still embarrassing to have been caught in a compromising position with your boyfriend.  It felt like you were fifteen.

“I’ll be out in ten,” Shawn answered.

Dane’s laughter died down as you heard his footsteps carry themselves back over towards the door, “I’ll put a timer on, Oh, and Y/n––“ you could hear the smirk on his lips, “––I hope to see you on the sidelines, preferably with a shirt on.”

You dug your head into the crook of Shawn’s neck as you felt all of the blood rush to your face.  Your hands were still tightly hanging onto the back of Shawn’s shirt for the next few minutes as he stayed in his position on top of you.

“At least it was Dane?”

At his weak attempt of lightening up the mood, you pushed him off and sat up on the couch, “At least?! He saw me without a shirt!”

“I covered you up!”

You shot a glare toward his direction as you got up from the couch and searched for your shirt.  It was crumpled up in a ball on the coffee table.  You let out a deep sigh, of course your shirt was thrown somewhere that was obvious.  Lifting the shirt up by the sleeves, you frowned as you examined all of the wrinkles.

“Here,” Shawn was already walking over to his duffle bag, “You can wear my shirt––“

“I’m––No,” you answered him as you tugged on your shirt, “I’d rather wear a wrinkled shirt than have Dane point out that I’m in one of your shirts.”

“But––“

“Let’s go,” you were a few steps away from the door as you held your hand out for him to take, “I want to pick a snack from the vending machine before the game.”

Shawn let out a sigh and grumbled something about how he loved seeing you in his shirts, but he still took ahold of your hand. The two of you walked out the dressing room as you pressed a kiss to his cheek.  A small smile overtook his face.

The two of you walked toward the backstage part of the arena where the vending machines were held.  You brought up a finger to your chin, debating on what snack to pick, as the vending machine lights illuminated your face.  Once you decided what snack you wanted, you pressed a knuckle to the letter L and then to the number 3.

You watched with excitement as the circular black rings slowly pushed your snack forward.  And then as it was finally tipping over the edge, you smiled as the bag fell with a soft fmmp as it reached the bottom of the machine.  You let go of Shawn’s hand to retrieve your snack from under the plastic black flap.

“Cheetos?” Shawn questioned just as you stood up and opened up the bag with a loud crinkle, “If I’d known you’d want Cheetos, I could’ve like added it to my rider and it would’ve been in the dressing room for you.”

You shrugged your shoulders as you held out the bag, offering your Cheetos to Shawn.  He dug his hand into the bag and took one out.  He popped it into his mouth with a loud crunch as he closed his eyes, “God, it’s been forever since I’ve had these.”

Shawn led you out of the vending machine room as you continued to share your Cheetos with him, “I remember having them as a snack after soccer games,” you shared, “You know how parents would sign up to bring snacks after games? I feel like every parent would buy that big value size pack of like twenty-four different chips, and I––“ you licked your fingers that were covered in Cheeto dust, “––Always picked Cheetos.”

Shawn tilted his head back in laughter as he pushed open a back exit door and held it open for you to walk through, “I was always more of a Fritos guy.”

You scrunched your nose up, “Fritos?”

“They’re good!” Shawn defended himself as the people from the tour crew, who were playing in the soccer match, came into view, “Don’t knock ‘em ’til you try ‘em.”

You scoffed, “There are literally dozens of other chips you could chose from,” you stopped walking when you and Shawn came up to the sideline his ‘team’ was on, “Doritos, Lays, Chex Mix––“

“Hey, Y/n!” Your eyes widened as you heard Dane yell out your name.  His feet hit the pavement hard as he ran over, “Glad you could make it––fully clothed.”  While he was talking in a calm soft voice, not raising it to cause suspicion, it still made Andrew’s head perk up.

“You caught them?” Andrew looked up from tying his shoes at Dane.

You blushed as Shawn’s manager looked between the two of you and then back at Dane as you tried to defend yourself, “He didn’t really see anything––“

“See any of what?” Brian had jogged over and started to stretch, lunging on his left leg as he reached down to touch the toes on his right foot.

“It was nothing––“

“Just Shawn and Y/n going at it in the dressing room,” Dane shrugged as he gave you a wink, “Boyfriend, girlfriend stuff.”

Andrew’s shoulders slumped as he reached over to his bag and pulled out a ten dollar bill and handed it to Dane, “I’m his day-to-day,” Andrew grumbled, “Can’t believe it was the merchandise manager who caught you two first.”

You stood there dumfounded, hand frozen in your bag of Cheetos.  You and Shawn kept your relationship as private as possible––private from the media, your social medias, and made sure to keep your PDA to a minimum when you visited him on tour.  So it was a bit comical to see how intrigued Andrew and Dane were in catching the two of you.

Brian straightened up from his stretching and held a fist out toward Shawn, “Sweet, man––Just like Denver last tour?”

Your bag of Cheetos dropped to the ground, the little you had left of your snack spilled, covering the pavement with an artificial orange color.  You felt the heat of your oncoming blush rise up to your cheeks.  With Brian being Shawn’s best friend, you had an inclination that he knew some––if not most––of your sexual relationship with Shawn.  Which you were fine with because you told your best friend almost everything.

But it was always a topic you never discussed between the two of you.  It was mutually understood that while you talked to your best friend’s about each other, you would never talk about it directly to each other.  Shawn talked to Brian about you; You talked to your best friend about Shawn.  But never would your best friend bring it up in front of Shawn.  And never––did you think––Brian would bring it up in front of you.

The same thought seemed to be stirring within Shawn’s head as his eyes widened for a second.  He was only shocked for a split second more before he let out a chuckle and returned the fist bump to Brian and chose to ignore his comment about what happened Denver, “Thanks, man.” 

“Thanks man?!” You turned to face Shawn who had an amused smirk on his face.  

You weren’t mad at the display of masculinity in front of you, in fact, you saw the humor in it, but it was still embarrassing having your boyfriend be congratulated in front of you for hooking up.

The sound of a high pitch whistle echoed off the pavement.  With the sound of the start whistle, and players heading toward the makeshift field, it took away any chance you had of laying into Shawn more.  

Brian ran away laughing, escaping the choice words you had for him, which just left you with Shawn.  You crossed your arms over your chest stubbornly and tore your head away from Shawn as he lifted a finger under your chin to try and get you to look at him.

“Good luck kiss?”

With a playful sigh, you leaned up on your tip toes to press a peck to Shawn’s smile.  His eyes were still closed when you pulled away and his smile grew wider, “You love me.”

“Unfortunately,” you said as you couldn’t fight Shawn’s contagious smile, “I love you a lot.”

Shawn let out a laugh as a few people hollered at him to come over, “How unfortunate for me,” he pressed another quick kiss to your lips before he started to walk backwards toward the game that had started without him, “Are you free tonight?”

You leaned your weight on your left leg as you tapped a finger on your cheek, “Hm…I’m watching my boyfriend sing at a little show,” Shawn stopped walking backwards, his full attention on you, and showed all his teeth in a grin, “But I’m free after.”

“It’s a date,” Shawn said before he spun around and ran toward the soccer ball.

#woot!! #some fluff #and a bit of teasing #:) #all in good fun #come tell me what you thought of it!! I love hearing what you all have to say!! #your messages make my day/night/mid-afternoon/whole year #🤩 🥰 #thanks a million!!! #(the next piece of writing I post will be ANGST) #((or it'll be the prologue to my coffee shop au)) #(((the angst needs some MAJOR editing so I think the prologue will come first lmao))) #which one would you want to read first?? okay im rambling I'll stop #enjoy! #Shawn mendes #Shawn Peter raul mendes #Shawn Mendes writing #Shawn Mendes writings #Shawn Mendes writer #Shawn Mendes fanfiction #Shawn Mendes fan fiction #Shawn Mendes ff #Shawn Mendes fic #Shawn Mendes blurb #Shawn Mendes fluff #Shawn Mendes x y/n #Shawn Mendes x you #Shawn Mendes reader insert #Shawn Mendes oneshot #Shawn Mendes one shot

[stereksecretsanta]

Merry Christmas, foolishsel!

For @foolishsel. I enjoyed writing this fic for you and I hope it meets all of your Sterek likes (: Merry Christmas!! -your S.S>

Read On AO3

️*****

Christmas at the Loft

The pack was sitting around the loft, everyone’s eyes on Derek. They were waiting for him to decide-it was all up to him.

His boyfriend nudged him from his spot beside him, “Come on Der, if you don’t play someone else has to sit out.” Stiles got that look in his eye, the one he usually got right before he began begging.  

Derek glared around the room. “Is this really going to break Christmas if I don’t agree?” The pack all chimed in at once, “YES!”  

He sighed heavily, still not wanting to give in. Stiles eyes met his. “Oh, come on babe, don’t be such a sour-grinch-wolf.” Derek’s brow raised and a smirk touched his face. “You just come up with that one?” The brown eyed boy shrugged his shoulders. Derek chuckled his direction, “You’re so proud of yourself right now, aren’t you?” Stiles winked at him flirtatiously. Almost at the same time they realized they weren’t alone, and turned back to the group. Derek gave them all the answer they’d been looking for. “Fine. How does this Secret Santa shit work anyway?”

The pack whooped and hollered in their victory as Lydia set out to make up name cards.  

“Everyone fills out a sheet and puts it in this bag, then we all draw a name. Remember it’s a secret.” Lydia glared at Stiles for that last part; he feigned shock. “What?”

Everyone took a piece of paper with a matching red or green pen, Lydia made everything festive, and went to work writing down their likes and dislikes.  Derek hadn’t a clue how to answer half the questions. What was his favorite restaurant? Favorite store? How would he know; not like he had time to stroll the town what with all the creatures that came to Beacon Hills threating to kill them and such.  

He ended up skipping some altogether or answered, ‘I don’t.’ The weirdest question was ‘what is your favorite scent?’ The only thing he could come up with was Stiles. He’d memorized his fresh laundry smell mixed with mint, and that hint of Stiles anxiety-his scent was home.  

Derek finished filling out the form, handing it back to Lydia; he felt sorry for whoever picked his name. They all agreed Lydia would keep hold of the master list as she was the only one who could be trusted not to lose it; they only hoped she wrote their names and not some cryptic code -it happened more often than not.  

Lydia came around with the bag for everyone to draw a name, writing down who each person drew as she went. Stiles seemed happy about his pick. “Oh, this is going to be so easy!” Derek figured he got his best friend Scott whom he’d known practically his whole life. Lucky bastard.

Once it was Derek’s turn, he pulled out the last name hoping for someone easy like Isaac-he could just get him a stupid scarf. He reached his hand in the bag timidly, pulling out the last name, the one he’d hoped to avoid-Stiles. As if it being their first Christmas as a couple wasn’t enough, now Derek had to find him not one, but two amazing gifts. The only thing he’d come up with so far was some string and markers for his ‘who done it board’, though he was afraid Stiles might find a different activity for those items.  

Once all the others had piled out of the loft, Derek and Stiles were left alone at last. Derek lunged for Stiles, but he squirmed out of his grip quickly. Damn wiry thing he was!  

“Oh no you don’t my sexy werewolf! We only have a few days to shop for these gifts and I’m guessing you could use all the time you can get.” Derek flipped him off, moving quicker this time and pinned him to the wall. “How about I give you a gift right now?” Derek raised his brows in challenge, Stiles pecked him on the lips. “Maybe later babe.” Derek let him slide away, for now.  

He moved to the couch and laid back, hoping an idea for Stiles would spring to life. It didn’t, but it’s was the thought that counted-right?

~

Derek spent almost the entirety of the next few day searching high and low for anything he could give Stiles, but always came up empty. What does one buy a neurotic teenager who cares more about people than things?  

Christmas was two days away which meant Christmas eve was tomorrow night, and that was the day they were exchanging Secret Santa gifts.  

The cool air fogged up around the werewolf as he puffed out heavy breaths. He could hear Stile’s heart beating semi rapidly as he approached the door, but not for the reasons he was thinking. Christmas music was blaring when he opened the door and he took in the sight in front of him. Lights were strung up everywhere around the loft: rainbow colored ones, classic gold, snowflakes, and ones that looked like dripping icicles. There was a massive Christmas tree in the middle of the floor, complete with more lights and ornaments that surrounded them. Stiles was pacing around the loft setting up miscellaneous decorations here and there, not noticing that his boyfriend had walked in.  

Derek growled low in his throat, flashing his blue eyes. Stiles turned to see the noise. “Ahhh!”  

He dropped the décor he had in his hands, ornaments clanging to the floor. “Jesus Derek, what did I tell you about sneaking up on me?” Derek flared his blues once more. “Probably the same thing I told you about decorating this place.” Ignoring his broodiness, Stiles strode over to him and Derek wrapped his arms around him from behind, resting his chin on Stiles shoulder.  

“See now my sour-wolf, isn’t it a beauty?” Derek smiled into Stiles neck, trying to see everything through his eyes. He bent to kiss him along his jaw, sending shivers down Stiles arm. Derek whispered low in his ear, “The view’s not so bad I guess.” Stiles practically melted under him. “Ok Christmas later. You, me, bed, NOW!”  

They chased each other around the loft until they were pinning one another to the bed, kissing each other fervently. Falling asleep with Stiles tucked safely in his arms that night, Derek finally knew what he was going to get him, but he was going to need some help.  

~

Derek was up and out of the cozy-lit loft early the next morning, kissing Stiles on his forehead before heading out. He wanted to crawl back into bed and warm his boyfriend, but it would be selfish of him; he had gifts to get together by tonight.  

On the way to his car, he stopped at Stiles jeep to grab an item he would need for part of the present, then he was on his way.  

He stopped at the store first, knowing none of his pack would be awake this early. The craft store was lined with paper, stickers, paints, and all sorts of things Derek had never envisioned in his lifetime. He stood out like a sore thumb with his brooding looks and leather jacket. One of the workers eventually came to his rescue, helping him gather all of the supplies he would need: paper, glue, stickers, and a large box of sharpie markers. His next stop was Lydia’s house; she would know how to help him start the project and put it all together.  

Once at Lydia’s place, he showed her the materials he’d gotten, laying out his plan for the gift. Lydia was left speechless; she stared at him in awe. Derek rubbed a hand through his hair, “Oh god. This is a stupid idea isn’t it?” Shaking herself out of her trance, Lydia placed a palm on his forearm. “Not at all. He’s going to love it!” She gave him a reassuring smile and he could see the glimmer of moisture in her eyes.  

Lydia helped him set everything up, arranging the pages just so. Once the book was put together, Lydia created her page and sent Derek on his way to his next stop-Scott’s. Derek gave Scott the same spiel and was met with almost the same response as Lydia. Derek glared at him, “What?” Scott looked up at Derek’s glowing eyes, “Whoa, whoa! It’s a good idea…great idea! He’ll love it!” Derek growled slightly at him, but let him finish his part in peace.  

Derek continued to make his way through the rest of his pack, skipping the ones who were out of town for the holidays. By the time he was done, he had a page from everyone: Scott, Lydia, Allison, Malia, and even Isaac-he knew Stiles secretly loved having him around.

Derek finished it off, putting everyone’s pages together, adding his own at the end. Stiles texted to let him know he’d be home in an hour or so, which gave him just enough time to grab the tools he needed to finish the other part of Stiles present. He finished the second gift in no time, leaving him a few extra minutes to change before everyone arrived.

~

The loft was filled once again with his pack, all of them wearing some kind of festive sweater or headband thing, Derek opted for his usual t-shirt and jeans combo, only slightly snarling when Stiles put a jingle bell necklace over his head. “It’s so you can’t sneak up on me anymore my love.” Stiles winked at him and Derek pulled him closer.

The gift exchange was going well and the pack was finally able to relax from the luring creatures of Beacon Hills. Stiles had gotten Scott after all, gifting him with new lacrosse gear and date-night activities for him and Alison. How cute; Derek rolled his eyes.

Isaac handed Derek a small gift box, looking away nervously-the rest of his pack shrugged their shoulders. Derek eyed the box cautiously, opening it slowly to reveal a dark green-scarf? Derek didn’t get the chance to say anything as Stiles was already on a tirade.  

“Oh, I don’t think so Lahey! You’re not going to push your stupid scarf fetish on MY boyfriend. No sir!” Derek let him get it all out, eventually grabbing him by the elbows to pull him back down to the couch. The rest of the pack snickered to themselves, Isaac looked ready to vomit.

Derek bent to Stiles, trying to whisper quiet enough that the others intensified hearing wouldn’t pick it up, but loud enough that Stiles human ears would. “You know, I have a few ideas of what we could do with that scarf.” Stiles gulped loudly, looking around at the others also hoping they hadn’t heard. No one seemed to notice and the gift exchanging continued.

The time had finally come to hand Stiles his gift. Derek picked up the present and gently placed it in Stiles lap. Stiles looked up at him with a wide grin spread across his face. Derek watched Stiles take the top off the box and delicately pull out the book. Stiles began flipping through the pages completely mesmerized. Each of their friends had found their favorite picture of them with Stiles and wrote a little story about their friendship to go with it.  

Stiles looked around the room, moisture flecked in the corners of his eyes. “You guys did this-for me?” “We love you Stiles!” The pack tackle-hugged him, brining Derek down with them. Stiles looked up at Derek knowingly, thanking him in their unspoken language.  

With the gifts all opened, Derek sat back watching his pack pile food on their plates, gathering around the Christmas tree; it was a calming sight to see. They stayed through most of the night, the loft filled with music and banter among them.

Later, after everyone had left, Derek and Stiles were curled up on the couch together listening to the fire crackle while the lights danced on the walls. The clock struck midnight and Stiles jumped out of Derek’s strong arms. “Merry Christmas!!” Stiles looked like a kid on-well Christmas. Derek chuckled softly, “You’re such a dork.” Stiles grinned at him, “Yes, but I’m your dork.” Derek rolled his eyes playfully, standing from the couch. He went to the tree and reached under it until he found the package he was looking for. Derek went back to the couch where Stiles now sat with his book from earlier. It was sprawled across his lap, opened to Derek’s page. The picture was of them back when they were ‘just friends’, not that they every really were. They both had tooth-grinning smiles plastered on their faces; Derek knew it was one of Stiles favorites. The writing under it read: ‘Even when we weren’t together, we were. You’ve always been my best friend Stiles. I couldn’t do any of this without your crazy antics. Love you, D.’

Stiles beamed from beside him, tears in his eyes. Derek brought him closer, placing small kisses on his head. He slid the other present onto Stiles lap. “Open it.” Stiles pulled away slightly so he could look him in the eye. “More?” He held up the photo book, “This wasn’t enough?!” Derek laughed, pushing the present closer to him, “Nope.” Stiles sighed dramatically though Derek could hear his heart beating with excitement.

Stiles first glance at the present was puzzlement until Derek told him to turn it over. It was Stiles bat, his prized weapon of choice. Derek had polished it up and engraved it with Stiles initials and the spiral that matched his tattoo. Underneath those were the words: ‘When I can’t protect you, this will.’

Stiles was fully into his emotions now, burying himself into Derek. When the tears settled, Derek asked him, “So, did I do ok?” Stiles looked him dead in the eye. “Ok? I-I” Derek howled with laughter. “Wait did I actually leave Stiles Stilinski speechless?” He faked shock and Stiles swatted him slightly. They fell into each other’s arms again, Stiles nestled up closely to him.  

“You know, this might be the best Christmas I’ve ever had.” His boyfriend eyed him suspiciously, “You haven’t even opened any presents yet!” Derek kissed him on the forehead, rubbing his hands over Stiles soft skin. “I already have the best one.” Stiles turned around to face him, finding Derek’s lips with ease as they kissed each other tenderly.  

Pulling away slightly, Stiles asked, “You meant the scarf, right?” Both of them burst into laughter.  

They fell asleep in each other’s arms, wrapped up like gifts. Christmas wasn’t so bad after all Derek thought. He could get used to this; in fact, he already had.  

#foolishsel #stereksanta20 #*fic20 #*gifts20

[teaspacebar]

whipped for you (modern coffeeshop!au)

a/n: lemme just say that i am so incredibly gay for robin, okay? i saw her and i was like, “that’s the one right there.” i absolutely adore her character and i saw an au prompt from a list - if i can find it i will link it - and just ran with it. 

relationship: robin x fem!reader

word count: 1.2k

summary: you’ve had a crush on a regular customer for the past six months. you want to ask her out, but every time she comes up for her drink, you get all flustered and completely embarrass yourself. it’s a good thing she finds it cute.

-

She always came in at the same time, every day. She ordered an iced caramel vanilla latte with whip, no matter the weather. She would take her drink from you with a smile, telling you to keep the change, and sit at a table in the corner. Her laptop would sit on the table, tons of nerdy stickers covering it, and she would stay there for at least an hour. There were very few occasions where she would just rush out the door, but when she did, you would find yourself missing her presence.

You started writing cute messages on her cups, dotting the ‘I’ in her name with a little star – a heart just seemed too cliché. Your coworkers would always tease you, saying that if you had the balls, she’d probably be dating you by now. You proceeded to snap back with a comment about how you didn’t like balls and would never get any.

She radiated queer energy. Her haircut literally screamed at you, as well as her bright rainbow sticker right in the middle of her computer. So, that wasn’t an issue here. You knew you were at least her type in that regard.

It wasn’t like you hadn’t tried to ask her out. You did. Or at least, you planned on it. Until she walked in wearing those high-waisted shorts and her hair tied up in a messy ponytail. You had immediately flushed red, turning around to start making her iced beverage before she even came up to the counter. You could barely speak as you took her money, shoving the drink at her before escaping to the back. You must have looked like a lunatic.

You even told your best friend about her.

“She’s literally so gorgeous, I have no idea what I’m doing. It’s like she walks in and I’m this weird pile of jelly that can barely talk!” You gestured wildly with your hands.”

Your best friend snorted, shoving french fries into his mouth as he said, “It seems we have the same problem.”

“I’m being serious Steve! I’ve made her order almost every day for the past six months. I write these cheesy sayings on her cups, but I can’t get up the courage to write my number or even say anything besides ‘have a nice day’ without turning into a tomato. She gives me this smile when I hand her her drink before she can even order it and I die a little inside.”

“In a good way?”

You nodded, “In the best way.”

Steve had tried to give you a few pointers, but they didn’t really end up working out (probably because that boy has about the same luck as you do). It was all red cheeks and stuttered words.

Two weeks had passed, and you were waiting eagerly for your crush to make her appearance. She was late, which was unusual. You already made her drink, the ice slowly melting and condensation forming on the outside of the cup. The more time passed, the sadder you got. Maybe she wasn’t coming today. She could be sick, right?

The soft ring of the bell signaled that someone had entered the shop, causing you to look up. There she was. But she wasn’t alone, you noticed, as the guy held the door open to let her in. “Steve?” Your best friend gave you a grin, whilst your crush looked between the two of you with confusion. The two of them walked up to the counter, and the blonde shook her head, giving you a sheepish smile.

“Sorry I’m late, this dingus always holds me up,” She gestured to Steve.

You giggled, “Tell me about it. I didn’t know you knew Steve.” You shot your best friend a look; he shrugged in return.

“If it’s any consolation, I didn’t know either,” Steve explained.

You rolled your eyes, turning to make both of their drinks. You took out your signature silver sharpie, writing their names on the cups and drawing a little doodle on both. Setting both drinks on the counter, you leaned against it.

“Who the hell is Ronnie?” Steve questioned, gesturing to the drink with flowers on it. You stood up, looking at him incredulously, glancing at the girl next to him. Her face was red, and she was avoiding your gaze. You pointed in her direction, to which Steve barked out a laugh. “Her name is Robin.”

Oh god. You had been writing her name down wrong this whole time?! You felt your cheeks heat with embarrassment, and you covered your face with your hands, “I’m just going to go run into the back and die now.”

“No! No, I didn’t correct you, I’m sorry!” Ronnie – Robin – exclaimed. She was pushing Steve, who was trying to hold back his laughs, out of the way, to get closer to the counter. “You were just so cute and the message you wrote was really sweet that I just, never mentioned it.” You peeked through your fingers at her, catching the soft smile on her red face. “I thought that if I said anything, you would stop writing the notes or doodling on them, and it’s one of the best parts of my day.” She reached hesitantly to pull your hands away from your face, continuing to hold them once they were lowered. Your eyes met her blue ones, and it was like an ocean of calm washed over you.

“Robin fits you better,” you said gently, a smile forming on your lips.

Her laugh sent a wave of warmth over you, “That’s good, then. I was worried I’d have to change my name.”

You shake your head, looking down at your intertwined hands, “No, definitely not. Although it wouldn’t be a deal breaker, or anything.”

“Deal breaker?”

“God, just ask each other out already!” Steve butted in, causing the two of you to send him a glare. “We have a project to work on.”

Robin turned back to you, “So, do I have to order another drink for you to write your number on the cup?” You let go of her hands so you can grab a cup, eagerly writing your phone number across it. You place her existing cup into the new one, sliding it over to her. “Sweet, I’ll text you, yeah?” You nodded, letting her walk over to Steve, who gave her this shit-eating grin. Robin shoved him, making him stumble.

You started wiping down the counters, when your phone dinged.

you always put the perfect amount of whip :)

Another ding.

it’s exactly how whipped I am for you.

You snorted, peeking over the counter to see Robin snatching her phone away from Steve. She glanced up, catching your gaze. “Ignore that!” Oh, your cheeks were going to hurt if you kept smiling this much. You quickly inserted her number into your contacts, then slid your phone back in your pocket. You went back to work, basking in the giddy feelings bursting through your body. The rest of your shift, silly faces and gentle smiles were passed between you and the girl that had burst into your plain life so suddenly, brightening everything with a sly smile.

#robin x reader #stranger things #stranger things fic #stranger things imagine #robin stranger things

[alsbesluit]

a match

  Three weeks later, Katie put on a nice, dark blue dress, styled her hair carefully in front of the mirror and wore her favourite pair of boots, light brown ankle boots that Leanne gifted her for her latest birthday. Lee told her she looked great when she walked into the living room and wished her good luck, ‘not that she needed it.’ George, who’d come over to hang out with Lee, commented that she looked great. She thanked both of them with a smile, kissed George’s cheek and made her way out. The sun was shining, something not too common for a day at the start of April, and it was warm enough to walk to the cafe with her coat loose after she’d apparated to the right part of the city.  

  She honestly really hadn’t had the time for a speed date situation. It sounded like an excuse, and perhaps she’d used it as one beforehand, but St. Mungo’s had become more busy since. The current magical government was pushing what people considered too progressive legislation and as a result, there had been revolts. Some of the staff on the more consistent wards (which was code for the healers of the wards on the fourth floor for the permanent residents and the second floor, since the amount of magical diseases was surprisingly consistent) had been asked to pitch in at the ground floor every other shift because both protesters and an influx of hit wizards and aurors got injured. They could use every wand and hand they could get. Regardless, her colleagues insisted she take the day off that she had planned, since she already took so little time off. It was probably a good thing she hadn’t mention what she would be doing, because they may have suggested she take off the next shift as well just in case she did meet someone.   She loved her colleagues, she really did, but she wished that people in general and her colleagues specifically stopped acting like it was the end of the world when you didn’t have a romantic relationship of some kind. She was perfectly fulfilled with her job and her friends. It was nowhere near the end of the world not to have some boy around. There were advantages, yes, but there were also disadvantages, especially since no boy had ever been right for her and Katie refused to settle. Relationships were work, and while she was willing to put in work it was only for someone who was worth it and would do the same thing in return. She was still trying to find this person. That was supposed to be the point of the speed date situation, alas.   The corner cafe looked like the kind of thing Nicholas and her spend time at when they were younger, for their uncle who didn’t have any kids owned a cafe. She’d worked behind the bar there when she was sixteen to make some extra money, so she was wholly familiar with the kind of building she was about to enter.    Upon entering, Katie observed that a number of tables with two chairs each (one on each side) had been set out in the middle of the bar. There was a small crowd at people standing to the side talking, all with their names on the outfit of choice, written on a sticker with sharpie. Katie made her way towards the bar, where she ordered a water by the bartender, an older woman with blond hair, sparking blue eyes and a friendly smile.   “Thank you, ma’am,” Katie thanked her when she got the water and immediately took a sip.    The woman smiled at her in return. “Are you here for the speed dating, dear?” she queried. Katie nodded. “I’ll get you a name tag right away. We’ll start in a few minutes.” She reached behind her for the sharpie and the stickers both. “What name should I write down? Or would you rather write it down yourself?”   This was where the awkwardness started, Katie found. Her real name and nickname usually had some very different responses. Katie was much more accessible, and it was what she went by, though. “Katie, and no thank you,” she said. “My handwriting is not nearby as good as yours, from what I’ve seen. I have a real doctor’s handwriting.”   The woman behind the bar wrote the name down in curly and quite readable letters and handed it over to Katie. Katie pushed her hair aside carefully before attaching the sticker to her dress. She should probably be mindful of her hair falling over the sticker time and time again. She took another sip of her water and studied the crowd that had gathered before addressing the bartender again.   “Are all these people here for the speed dating, or just a few of them?” she asked.   “Most of them are,” the woman replied. “I’ve seen some really nice and good-looking men pass by here and ask for a name tag already. We gathered an interesting crowd this month.” Both Katie and the woman lingered over looking at them. “Have you prepared your answers for the most obvious questions people ask?” she asked.   Katie grinned, amused by the statement, and looked back at the woman. “I did not, I didn’t even think what the most obvious questions would be. Do people really prepare?”   “Some of them do,” the woman said, a small smile on her face. “They don’t want to be caught off guard, I think, but I always fear it comes across a little rehearsed.” She frowned a little at that. “Nothing wrong with trying to be prepared, though.”   “I always try to be prepared,” Katie shared. “But the harder I try, the more I get caught off guard. You can’t prepare for everything. Just the probable things. So I’ve limited myself to that.” She shrugged her shoulders, then smiled. “Can I take the water with me as I do the speed dating?”   “Of course, dear,” the woman replied. “We’ll start any minute now.”   Katie couldn’t say if she was excited or scared. Perhaps both. She had to remind herself of what her friends said - that she would eventually get lucky and that she deserved to be with someone who liked her and that she should at least try the speed dating - and took another few sips of her water to calm herself. Soon enough, the bartender woman approached the middle of the room and announced the speed dating was about to begin. She explained the system - it was a rotating system with five minutes for every couple to chat and get to know each other and if you liked someone, you could write down their name and you would hear if there was a match - and handed out pieces of papers for everyone to write down at.    Soon enough, Katie was sat down at a table with a man named Jared who, while friendly,  talked a lot about himself and his very specific hobby of working on old cars and hunting after car parts, which usually took up his weekends. She could see why unless you had the same hobby, it would be difficult to date him. He seemed to prefer his car parts over dating. Needless to say, it was not a match, so when the bell sounded after five minues she moved onto the next table.   Unfortunately, the next man, Raheem, wasn’t any better of a match. He was admittedly handsome, but he immediately told her that he expected his future girlfriend to go to all kinds of sports events with her. She had to love sports, specifically football and formula 1 racing. Katie didn’t have the slightest clue what formula 1 racing was, but she could guess and she could also guess it wasn’t for her. Sure she liked sports. She loved quidditch. What she didn’t like was men demanding things of women as though their right. Katie had other hobbies outside of quidditch and liked to try and distribute her time between them, plus she didn’t really have that much free time to spend at all. Not a match, not at all.   She was still a little hopeful sitting in front of the third man,  Todd. Unfortunately, it was within the minute that she realized this wasn’t the man for her either. He was particularly full of himself. Apparently his workplace didn’t value him and should recognize he was easily the most important person on his team and should do better. He didn’t think to ask what she did for a living, as though unimportant, and she was starting to sense that he felt it wasn’t important. When the barwoman came by and asked if they wanted another drink, Katie politely asked for another water. When she left, the man said woman should be getting him drinks more often. She tuned out after that, and doubted the man realized she wasn’t listening.   The next two men were no match either, and by the time Katie made her way to the sixth table she was starting to get discouraged. Why did her friends think this was a good idea? It seemed that a very specific type of person went to speed dating; someone so specific that no one in their group of friends, relatives and acquaintances knew anyone to set them up with or would want to. Was she like that? Katie liked to think that she wasn’t, but due to the long hours on her job and her progressive stance she probably wasn’t anyone’s dream woman, exactly. Different people had different standards and she didn’t fit a lot of them.    There were still two to go. Katie set her glass of water down at the next table and sat down, lifting her eyes up to meet green eyes. The man had brown hair, a little wavy and on the longer side, and facial features that Katie vaguely recognized. He offered to shake hands with her and smiled. “Hi, I’m Marcus, as the name tag tells you as well, I guess.”   With that, everything clicked into place. Marcus. Flint, to be precise, a former Death Eater who was sentenced to ten years in Azkaban but was let go from the prison early because he signed an agreement about his magic getting taken away in return for his freedom. The policy was what the revolts had been about, in part. Was it more unethical to strip people of their wand than it was to leave them without wand anyway in a jail? She didn’t have the answer to that and she tried not to think about it too hard. She didn’t go into policy making or law enforcement for a reason. Her sense of right and wrong, while very strong, wasn’t what most people’s sense of it was, a lesson learned during the war. She was too kind, people said, too forgiving.    “Hi Marcus,” she said in a small voice, shaking his hand. “I’m Katie.”   It was in that moment that Marcus did a double check and recognized her as well. His eyebrows raised a little and he leaned back against his chair, exhaling slowly. “We don’t have to do this,” he said then. “We can just sit here in silence until the bell rings. Or I can get a refill and stay away the entire time. It’s whatever you prefer.”    Katie shook her head, long hair falling in front of her nametag. “No, we can do this,” she said. “We’re both adults and we came here to speed date. You may have done things in the past that I can’t morally agree with, but you’ve suffered the consequences and served your sentence.” Taking in Marcus, Katie wanted to amend the way she said that. He was still suffering those consequences and serving his sentence. It just wasn’t in Azkaban. “And now you’re here in London trying to rebuild a life, like you have every right to.”   “While all correct in some way, that doesn’t mean that my rebuilding life has to have you in it in any capacity, including seeing you for a couple of minutes during a speed date,” Marcus pointed out. “You don’t have to be kind about this, Bell.”   “I’m not,” Katie replied, leaning forward a little to get her point across. “I am kind. Always. People deserve kindness. People including you. So let’s do this right.” She took a deep breath. “Well, I’m Katie, I’m twenty-six and I work in a hospital as a doctor. I live right here in London with my roommate and I’m looking to find someone I click with to see if we can take it further on another date, no strings attached otherwise. What about you?”  By the end of the speed dating rounds, Katie was supposed to fill in who, if anyone, she wanted to see again. She was standing by the bar again as she pondered it. Truth be told, there was only one person she found even remotely interesting, but it was exactly the person that all her friends would tell her to please stay away from because she was setting herself up for failure. She didn’t think she agreed, though.    Katie glanced over at Marcus, who was standing at the other side of the room, and smiled a little when he caught her glance. He smiled back, and that settled it. She wrote down one name on the paper that she handed in by the barwoman in a barely legible handwriting and ordered her third water of the midday.   Sometime later, she was told there was a match.

#( a match ). #( self para ). #( katie & marcus ).

[fuck-customers]

So a bit of a two-parter with this. This dude I work with both scared/scarred/disgusted me and pissed me off today on two separate incidents.

1 was simple, but still makes me cringe. I had to go to the bathroom, door was closed, I said out loud “aw man someone’s in there.” And while on a bit of an autopilot I turned the knob, not locked. Paused and said, again out loud “oh, guess there’s not then” and went in. Get a face full of the dudes ass and him yelling at me that I should have said something so I slam the door and tell him to lock it next time. Luckily he got reprimanded for that because if it had been our minor coworker it would have been a hell of a lot worse of a deal.

Now 2 has a bit of a backstory. My shift started at noon and I was hungry, so I bought a lunch combo from work. Taped my receipt to the top of the box and set it in the back and ate some of it here and there as the day went on. General rule is there’s a receipt to it don’t touch. And nobody did! Until night shift. I go to the back after some night shift people come in to eat some more (there was still half left) and it’s in the trash. Now granted it was in the back next to others that were expired and brought back for others to eat. But the expired ones have their tabs pulled and no product sticker on them (and certainly no receipt taped to the damned things).

So I got upset because I freaking BOUGHT that and someone threw it away. A manager overheard and he just did a cartoonish “welp!” And threw his hands up in the air and then said “guess that means you get a new one for free!” And he did. He made me a fresh one and gave it to me for free. I love him. Now more on guard I grab a sharpie and write my name on all sides of the box along with “DONT TOUCH!!” And I put it on a supply shelf on a different side of the store so it won’t be confused with trash by any chance. Front is busy now so I run and go help, come back a bit later and bathroom ass from earlier has his mitts in my combo box and when I confront him about it he says I need to keep it out of the way so people won’t try to eat it.

Like... my fucking name written on it in giant black sharpie on every single side of the box isn’t enough for people to know to not touch it? I mean I got petty and wrote it on the bottom of the box too even. (I’m a chubster. I am defensive over food lmao)

But yeah dude grossed me out and pissed me off in the span of an hour or so.

#submissions #fuck co-workers #fuck coworkers #embarrassing #submission

[loxare]

Harm

Chapter 4 -  Alice in High Definition and an Aside

Sniping was a waiting game. And while he waited, he was texting a contractor. Normally, meeting with contractors was a face to face thing, but in Bludhaven, a reclusive property owner could get anything he wanted, for the right price. Of course, he had also hired overseers, people to ensure the contractor didn't do a mediocre job and pocket the profits.

His target, one Johnny Grey, wasn't a drug lord or murderer or any of his usual targets. No, he was just an animal smuggler. He smuggled cats and dogs across the border, surgically implanted with certain chemicals that, when combined, formed compounds explosive enough to take out a major shopping center.

Fortunately, Grey was incredibly suspicious of his underlings, something Red Hood had been working on for a few months. As such, no one but Grey knew the names of the buyers, or who was stuffing small animals full of volatile chemicals. The entire organization literally relied on Grey to continue breathing. Unfortunately, he was about to disappoint a whole lot of people.

But first he had to show up. There was an exchange tonight, Grey paying off a harbormaster to maybe not look too closely at the animals the next ship was bringing in, and Red Hood had gotten here a whole hour early.

He checked his watch. Ten minutes. Ten minutes to kill and the contractor hadn't texted him back yet, so he had nothing to do. Without his permission, his mind started wandering back to his confrontation with Nightwing.

Pulling out his rifle, he started prepping it. “Who does he think he is?” The action opened with a click and he took a look down the barrel to make sure nothing was in it. “Family? Yeah right.” The magazine went in and the action closed with another series of clicks. “Why can't they all just leave me alone?” He laid down on the rooftop, lining up his sights. Red Hood sighed. He was going after a stuffed animal smuggler. Dangerous stuffed animals, but still. Not much choice though; all of the worst crooks were either fled or dead. Pretty soon, he would have no job.

By the time Grey and his posse showed up, he was very much ready to shoot some people. And he did. “Screw you Grayson.” Headshot. “I hope you get scurvy.” Knee, then headshot. “Get scurvy and all your perfect little teeth can fall out.” Knee, knee, elbow, shoulder, lung. “Fucking Nightwing.”

“Momma says that's a bad word and if I say it, she'll wash out my mouth.”

Immediately, Jason's rifle pointed straight up into the air. He rolled into a sitting position, staring at the little girl behind him. “And she's absolutely right. Swearing is a bad habit. Use big words, so whoever you're mad at feels like an idiot.”

She was about six, and wearing bunny pajamas. “Really? That works?”

“Yup.” Jason walked away from the edge of the roof and started putting his rifle away. She turned so she could keep facing him and, thankfully, not facing the horror show on the docks. “Plus stuff like malodorous dunce is just fun to say. What's your name?” He pulled off his helmet and started stashing his rifle.

“Alice. And Tammy said you ask if we need help, but I don't. I just wanted to say hi.” She rocked back on her heels and smiled at him, the tiny kid's purse at her side smacking into her thigh.

Jason smiled. Magazine out and away, eject round from chamber. “Hi Alice. Come on, let's get you home, before the angry men down there call for help.”

Alice nodded, holding her arms out in the universal sign for “carry me”. So Jason swung her up onto his shoulders, making sure the rifle slung across his back wasn't poking her, and handed her his helmet to carry.

She lived in an apartment building across the street, one he had considered for sniping on top of, but decided the pigeon wire would get in the way. And also really hurt. He couldn't really swing to her fire escape, not without risking dropping her, so he started climbing down his fire escape. “So Alice, how are you doing in school?”

“Not great. They keep talking about boring stuff like shapes and numbers and I just want to play outside.” She was using his head to balance his helmet on, and she kept turning it. “The thoranist said that I might have attention defo... defin...” She huffed in frustration.

“The therapist said you might have attention deficit disorder?” Jason guessed.

“No, there was another word in there.”

Ah. “Hyperactivity. It might be easier if you just call it ADHD.”

She gave out another frustrated huff. “Why couldn't he just call it that then? That's a lot easier to remember. And hey, what's that thing you said earlier mean?”

“Malodorous dunce? It means stinky dumdum. If you want, I can write it down for you.” They'd reached the bottom of the fire escape, Jason grabbing both of her ankles with one hand so he could climb the ladder. She grabbed his hair so she could hold on better.

Once they were at the bottom and starting across the street, she released his hair and went back to playing with his helmet. “Yes please. I wanna call the therapin that next time I have to go see him. I think he's right because a lot of stuff he said ADHD people have is stuff I have, but he's also a stinky dumdum and I don't like him.”

Jason laughed. “Yeah, people who are right all the time are like that.” Pulling out his grapple, he used it to grab the ladder to her fire escape and bring it down. “Hold on again Alice.”

She did, and they scaled the ladder. “Yeah. And! He said I need pills to focus in class, but then I saw Mom and Dad looking at the bills and being sad. So I don't think we can afford it.” There was a squeaking noise coming from somewhere.

Jason hummed, thinking. “Maybe... ask your Mom or Dad if they'll quiz you when you get home from school. But while they do, play a game. Catch or something. That might help it stick better.” He'd try and see what he could do about their money troubles. Jason had a thing about drugs, understandably, but something like Ritalin could help Alice focus in school, so he'd help out. After he made sure she did have ADHD and it wasn't just some crack shrink who diagnosed every kid because they had energy.

Alice laughed, swinging her legs as much as she was able with him holding her ankles. “That's a good idea Red! Thanks! Oh, and this is my window! Um. I decorated your helmet.”

Confused, Jason set her on the fire escape in front of him and yup. It was decorated alright. There was an empty sticker sheet in her hand, probably one she had kept in her purse. The stickers, a variety of star, butterfly, car, dinosaur and heart ones, were all over his helmet, as well as some drawings of dogs and cats in sharpie. Also, a drawing of Jason's helmet. On his helmet.

“I love it!” Jason said honestly. “But I don't want it to get damaged when I'm working.”

Alice nodded solemnly. “Yeah. This is art and Daddy says that art should be protected.”

“Protected but seen.” Jason added, and she nodded again. “I'll put a picture of it on the website. Sounds good?”

“Yes! Goodnight Red!” He wrote malodorous dunce on the back of her sticker sheet, as well as a few other insults. Then, she climbed in through her window and bounced into her bed. Jason smiled, put on his newly decorated helmet and grappled away.

On the RedKids website, the user Red added another photo to his profile page, for a grand total of two. The first one, uploaded a month ago, was of a cast, covered in names and drawings in a rainbow of permanent marker ink, leaving almost none of the original white visible. The comments on it were of kids claiming them as their own. The second, and newest, was of a shelf, and on the shelf was a interestingly decorated Red Hood  helmet.

When he realized he was chewing on the inside of his cheek, Dick stopped, firmly pressing his teeth together. It was a really bad habit, one that could lead to him biting the inside of his mouth really badly, especially if he was in a fight, but it's one he had never been able to shake. Luckily, it only came up if he was particularly conflicted.

Because Jason was a murderer. And that wasn't ever something he could excuse. But was Dick any better? He had let Tarantula shoot Blockbuster. Then again, not stopping someone from shooting someone else was a lot different than the murder and torture and general bloodbath that Jason was causing in Bludhaven. Wasn't it?

No, it was. And besides, comparing their situations wasn't fair or right. Dick had been emotionally devastated for weeks, months, after the incident. Dick had seen Jason, looked into his eyes, and Jason didn't regret a thing. The kid he had seen as a little brother had died and come back a sociopath.

Maybe Jason was right about one thing though. Dick hadn't seen him as a brother, not when he'd been alive. It had only been regret and melancholy that had him remembering it differently. And guilt. Which was the entire reason he was trying so hard with Tim. Not just because Tim was a great kid, but also because if something happened, he didn't want the survivor to be left with no good memories. Which was a morbid way of thinking, but kind of necessary in his line of work.

Jason had threatened Tim. Tim was safe for now (as safe as one could be on a deep space mission with his team) but as soon as he got back, he'd have to be told that Jason was dangerous. Because he didn't know. Because he'd told Dick that Jason was alive and then blasted off in a rocket with the Teen Titans. Because he had been so excited to meet Jason he would have skipped the mission if it wasn't galaxy-saving.

And Dick was chewing his cheek again.

“Again.” Bruce said in that tone he used when he doesn't want to demand but he's also not asking.

Dick's lip curled into a snarl. He was getting tired of this. “We go over it every time I visit Bruce. Do we have to do it again?” Bruce just leveled a flat stare at him. “Fine! Jason looked older. About the age he would be if he had never died. Massive. Almost as tall as you, with muscles to match.” More muscles than Dick anyways. But Dick tried to keep on the lean side so he could continue his acrobatics. “His gear was as good as it could be without access to our resources. The grapple gun was definitely a few generations down, so he probably built it himself from memory. Didn't see his eyes, he had a domino under his helmet. And he'd dyed some of his hair green and blue and pink.” An odd choice, not one the Jason he'd know would ever make.

Bruce took all that in, changing his report by a word or two. “Anything else?”

“What does it matter?” Dick stood abruptly, his chair crashing to the ground behind him. “Jason is dead, and a serial killer came back in his place! We should just go and take him down before he hurts anyone else!”

Standing slower than Dick had, Bruce saved and minimized the file he had on Jason, revealing the rather large graph in the window behind it. For all they two of them had been working around the clock to figure out a way to arrest him without him spilling their identities, it was a pitifully small file. And while neither of them had ever though their identities would come under threat from someone in the family, they also hadn't thought someone in the family would become what Jason has become. “It matters Dick. You should know more than anyone, the more information you have on someone, the more power you hold over them.”

Dick flinched. Either that was a reminder of his lessons of when he was a Robin, or it was a reminder of what had happened when Blockbuster found out who Nightwing was. “And the more time we sit down here, the more people die. He killed six people in the past two days Bruce. And tomorrow, it could be a dozen, or a hundred, and you would be down here twiddling your thumbs and trying to get information that doesn't exist!” Better to leave now then to let them continue pushing each other's buttons. Better to leave now than after one of them punched the other. With a sharp wave, Dick stalked over to his motorcycle and roared out of the Cave.

Bruce watched Dick leave sadly. He wished things were different. He wanted to be able to have a conversation with his son without one of them stomping off mad or coming to blows. But they had made up before and they would again.

He sat down again and looked at the graph on the screen. Either Dick didn't see it or he chose to ignore it. It was a murders in Bludhaven versus time graph, and if a criminal psychologist saw it they would swoon.

The first few months of data had been gone over so many time that Bruce could probably draw it free hand from memory. It's while Jason is in hospital that things get interesting. A week of nothing, then the murders spike. Overlaid with a violent crime graph and a drug related crime graph, and it's easy to see that the crooks of Bludhaven are running wild. The numbers rival the ones from the first month, the ones Bruce suspected were Jason's alone. But where Jason had tapered off, become much less violent in the months following handing out his cell phone number, the criminals of Bludhaven kept the numbers high.

The night Dick had gone to Bludhaven there was one murder that was confirmed to be Jason's. After that there was chaos. Murder went up drastically, violent and drug related crimes plummeted. Reports naming Red Hood as the shooter skyrocketed, more than there ever had before. But within two weeks, Jason settled down and went back to his pre-hospital numbers. A jump every week or so when he took out a gang, but he didn't kill every member.

Bruce sat with his elbows on the console, fingers laced under his nose, staring at the data. Specifically, the spike. Was Red Hood making up for time lost, killing the criminals who had rampaged in his absence? Or was it because Dick had come to Bludhaven? How stable was Jason? Most non-specific methods of resurrection messed with the mind. Magic either left the resurrected a zombie, slave to the whims of the resurrector, or neglected to revive the soul, leaving the resurrected a fraction of a person.

And he couldn't really think of another way for Jason to have been revived, not without triggering the sensors on his coffin. The only reason they didn't go off was because Jason came back to life inside his coffin and dug his way out. Any sort of tech would have had to have been inside the coffin, either added later (not possible without tripping the alarm) or in the coffin before he was buried. The Lazarus Pit was a possibility, but again, one would need to get Jason out of the coffin to expose him to one. And all other methods of resurrection were specific to the person. Kryptonian birthing matrix, Spectre, escaping Tartarus, caught in an eternal cycle of birth and rebirth, et cetera.

With a huff that was as close as he got to a sigh, Bruce quickly checked the incoming reports from Bludhaven. One murder and sixteen assaults, five of which were critical, were attributed to Red Hood. The crime rate in Bludhaven had once again plummeted to where it had been before Superman decided to take matters into his own hands.

Dick was right in some things. This could never be excused. But Bruce would also never give up on the idea that he could someday bring Jason home. Under twenty-four hour watch and severe restrictions on his activities until he could be trusted again, but home.

For now though, Bruce pulled on his cowl and headed for the car. There was crime in Gotham that had to be stopped, and while Batman would never stoop to Jason's methods, he would also never give up on Gotham either.

AN: Hooray! Some of Dick and Bruce’s thoughts on the matter! 

No news besides that. Read and enjoy! Loxie out~!

#Jason Todd #Red Hood #Dick Grayson #Nightwing #Bruce Wayne #Batman #Loxie's fics