#middle big piece is when half the party got possessed

[cornercritter]

hey did y'all know dnd is a game. that you can play if you have cool people to play it with? wild. also you can really get carried away making art for it sometimes

middle big piece is all our characters, left to right: syl's dragon's zera's west's leo's and mine :D

#ack i should probably give SOME context #top left & mid is my guy :DD! #top right is leo's guy who is so so fun to draw <3 #middle big piece is when half the party got possessed #mid left is during a canon fight #middle is a doodle of one of my guy's wildshape forms #mid right is just a sketch of everyone being cool (not part of the story lol #bottom is zera's guy burying his sister :D #dndecked out #my art :)

[tisalovestory]

Candace, hello lovely!! I don't know if you write fkr him, but from your prompt list, can I get the "two characters cramming together on the couch" (it was in the first section!) with Porco Galliard from AoT? 🥺

And if not, then can I get with my favorite Miya, Osamu? 😊💞

A/N: finally having the time (and brainpower, let's be real) to write after a whole damn month and it's been so long that even tumblr's ui had changed..

Pairing: Miya Osamu x reader

Word count: 1149

Warning: my writing is rusty ok don’t judge shush

two characters cramming onto a couch together because they let their friend have the bed and they don’t want to sleep apart from each other

The clock ticked impatiently at the corner of your small living room, reminding you with each passing second that you were cramped on your tiny sofa with your limbs twisted and spine curved when there was a perfectly fine bed just a few steps away.

“We should have bought a bigger couch.”

The vibration of Osamu’s voice rumbled through your body as he spoke, his eyes opened and staring at the ceiling, wide awake in the middle of the night just as you were.

As if any properly developed adult, which you two were, could fall asleep in the posture you were in right now.

Fitting two adults horizontally onto a battered loveseat was difficult enough to begin with, not to mention that your boyfriend was massive in mass and in height. His arms dangling off the armrest was not enough to fit his poorly bent legs onto the seats, arching awkwardly to make place for your frame as you practically laid on top of him with your neck crooked so there could be some support for your poor head on his (likely cramping) shoulder.

“What you meant to say,” he winced when you elbowed him in the rib as you adjusted your posture and you apologetically patted him, “is that we should have just left your brother downstairs.”

Osamu would never admit that he was secretly glad about Atsumu’s choice to choose a team based near their dear home town of Hyogo, though everyone knew or simply assumed he was. It takes less than 2 hours to go from Osaka to Hyogo, a factor that had made going back and forth extremely easy. It meant that Osamu could simply close his shop for half a day in order to make it to his brother’s games, or that Atsumu wouldn’t even have to miss practice the next morning if he needed a pair of ears to complain to. It also comes with the other jackals tagging along after a good match to fill up his shop counters, which he was always pleased about. Athletes eat a lot, it was always a good day for his numbers when the group of men with appetites larger than a whole black hole came over.

But the convenience also came with its repercussions, like how easy it was for him to just let the twin stay over in a possessed moment of kindness. 

You knew it was a bad sign when the noises kept going on and on from the shop below your tiny apartment far past the regular closing time, piecing together the context of the party happening from the occasional roars and whooping you could hear. They had probably won something big, and someone most likely brought alcohol. Your suspicions were confirmed when your boyfriend finally came up with Atsumu swung over his shoulder like a sack of deflated rice, the blonde still babbling nonsense through drunken hiccups when he got dragged through your door.

As of right now, while you two were risking your mid-20s bones and muscles, the other Miya, who had the best physique out of the three of you, was snoring on top of your queen sized bed. 

“I don’t want to imagine what would happen if he throws up on my wooden counter next morning,” Osamu rubbed his temple at the thump in his head just from the thought, “I should have let him sleep on the couch.”

“You should.”

“Hm,” he mumbled, before it was replaced with a hiss when the numbness on his calf started spreading upwards. He tried to move it, but pitifully realised that half of your weight was resting on his leg.

You sighed, “I knew we would regret it one day when we got this old couch for free online instead of pitching in for a new one.”

“In our past selves’ defence,” Osamu chuckled, “it was free.”

All the listings for free furniture were the saving grace to your emptied wallets after you finally paid your first deposit onto the two-story unit that was now Onigiri Miya and the cozy space above you called home. A bare mattress that was thrown out by a fresh graduate at a nearby university (you let it sit under the sun for a whole day before taking it into your house, god knows what it had been through before it ended up in your hands), some cups and bowls that looked terribly mismatched, a few unnecessary pot plants you picked up while scrolling (none of them was still alive, rip), your old dining table that wobbled when someone sat down next to it, and lastly, the little couch that had a yellow stain on the inside of its left armrest. You two had carried the love seat by hand because the thought of paying someone to do it for you made your wallet ached, taking pauses around each block when your arms were starting to go out of any sense of touch from the soreness.

You collapsed onto the bare cushions of the couch the moment you finally got it through the door (after carrying it up your stairs, mind you), with you crashing right on top of him in a position that oddly reminisced the one you were in right now.

Surprisingly enough, the old couch was the only thing you had kept out of all the things you fished out of other people’s discards, though you could definitely afford to change it out now. You had bought a cover to hide the springs that were poking out from the sides and hid the stain skillfully with a handful of cushions. It had served you just fine, providing enough room and support for the two of you when Osamu had his arm slung over your shoulder over the midnight replay of 90s Mary-Sue period dramas.

But even with all its contributions, you had never wanted to say goodbye to it as much as you did now when your shoulders were slowly giving in.

Osamu seemed to notice your struggle at trying to free your arm and you let out a soft yelp when you were suddenly hoisted up by your hips, now laying flat on top of him. 

“Your back will not be happy about this,” you mused, but only shifted to settle comfortably on top with him as your makeshift mattress.

He hummed, resting his palm on your stomach as he rolled his neck before throwing his head back. “Sh,” he hushed playfully, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips as he closed his eyes, “just sleep.”

He knew you rolled your eyes at him, despite not seeing it in the dark. But you complied anyways, snuggling closer to him until your breaths were all that filled the room.

Then you parted your lips again.

“Let’s start looking at new couches tomorrow.”

“Hm.”

“After we kicked Atsumu out.”

“Agreed.”

#haikyuu imagines #haikyuu imagine #haikyuu x reader #miya osamu x reader #miya osamu imagines #miya osamu imagine

[slashingdisneypasta]

Kurt Kelly x Fem!Bitch!Reader || Oneshot

Title: Someone Gets Hurt

Plot: Some little wannabe steals away your boyfriend, Kurt, while also batting her big ass lashes and winning over your friends, too... until you've had enough. No one out bitches you.

Notes:

Obviously, this is inspired by Someone Gets Hurt from Mean Girls except with Regina (The reader) as the heroine.

Warnings: Overall bitchiness, possessiveness (You about Kurt), break ups (Make ups too though so its not too bad ^^), the ruining of another persons relationship (Random girl Lizzie and Kurt's), rapeiness (Ram), sexual references, underage drinking, overage drinking, just LOTS of debauchery over all, a smut bit near the end (Not full), etc.

Was I too proud with you? Was I too cold and forbidding? And you chose her over me Are you kidding?

Watching Kurt and Lizzie together this week has been torture. Terrible, burning, squeezing, not-at-all sexy torture.

Because Kurt, is yours.

He has always been yours. He was yours in kindergarten, he was yours in middle school, and he was yours all through highschool until this, unfortunate and butt fucking ugly, snag. Crossing your arms now and poisoning them with your eyes, you sit in the cafeteria... and think.

Just, think.

You don't gossip with your minions about all the bullshit going on in school, you don't discuss what you're going to do to the freshmen this year, no. Nothing. You're too busy... plotting.

There is no way in hell, that this pee-brained virgin bitch is going to steal your boyfriend, and not get paid back in turn. Its only fair- and you include interest, in your transactions like this.

One eye actually twitches, when Lizzie... the pee brained virgin bitch in question, gives Kurt a peck on the nose - oh so cute, but you don't even have to look at Kurt to see the disappointment flash in his eyes, - and hops off his lap when the bell rings. He has a free period now, you know because so do you and you usually spend it at the back of the football field together, but she has Chemistry, a thing you also know because hell- you just know everything. That's a basic fact. The whole school knows it and love that you never have to explain how you just fucking know shit.

But even being all knowing does not make you feel better, knowing that itty bitty roach-cunt has her claws embedded in your poor, weak-willed... ex boyfriends,... heart. Or his penis, more likely. Metaphorically speaking, obviously, because Lizzie's the 'Mary'est whore in the land of Westerberg High.

That doesn't really matter though. Either way, he's with her now and not you, and that just wont do.

Maggie, your right hand babe, gets up from your lunch table and leaves for her next class, too. And its only until she's out of sight, that you notice the piece of paper she left behind. Rolling your eyes, a growl of annoyance escapes you and you sigh- turning away from Kurt and Ram's table to see what the fuck it is. The reprieve is almost palpable, not looking at him anymore. It feels a little better- but not by much. And certainly not enough for you to forget what fuckery is going on.

Picking up the piece of paper in one perfectly manicured hand, you see that its an invitation. "Hmm... " Worrying the inside of your cheek, you think; This is interesting.

A Halloween party...

A gleeful smirk quirks slightly at the corners of your lips.

Kurt always did have a thing for Halloween.

~

And what you meant by 'Kurt always did have a thing for Halloween'- is 'Kurt always did have a boner for your Halloween costumes'. For the past several years, since the two of you blossomed with the help of puberty, you have used your assets as an advantage - because why else have them? - ; With the help of lace tights, push up bra's, winged eyeliner and red lipstick.

This year you've pulled together your favourite costume yet, which is fitting for the task at hand and the fact that its senior year- this may be your last chance to put these bottom dwelling highschool chuckleheads in their place.

I mean, you hope not but its basically a given.

Looking around the party as you walk in, you figure its just the same as any party Ram has thrown before. And his house is perfect for it, you'll give him that. The lights a turned down low enough that everyone looks a little hot, cooler's full of ice and alcohol are set up so you're never too far from a fix and thanks to his houses sound system the music is loud enough to make you think for a couple hours that you're in a place between reality and your dreams; A perfect set up for mistakes and one wild night.

But you aren't here to get drunk and kiss a loser, except for Kurt; You're here to take back the goddamn crown. Which getting Kurt back, will do. It'll humiliate Lizzie, and that's really all you want out of life right now.

Prowling through the crowd - which still knows to part for you, despite your current, slightly lower social standing, - in your knee high, shiny black leather boots, you look for someone to talk to. You know Maggie's here somewhere but that bitch is on her last life with you, after she said Lizzie's hair looked nice the other day. And you think some silent treatment will set her straight.

"Oh- Hi Ram." You find the host in the backyard, about to push an unsuspecting demoness into in a very sheer red blouse into the pool - which would doubtlessly make the blouse more of a red tint to her skin rather then any kind of coverage, which Ram well knows, - , and he double takes when he sees you. A sleazy, mischievous grin slops over his face at the sight, which makes you roll your eyes.

Deeply.

"Ohhh, heyyyy, Y/N!" He has to yell over the sound of the music and the other party-goers, not that you would mind if you didn't hear anything he said. He hasn't got a whole lot of substance, Ram, so you can basically assume that rolling your eyes is always the answer to anything he's saying. His eyes shift back, anxiously, to the girl he's currently got a hit out on, but you just raise your eyebrows sharply at him and he's at attention. "I didn't know you were gonna come! You know, with the state of things... "

Oh, he's so obnoxious. And dumb! So, so dumb. He doesn't know the half of your shit. Yet he still runs his mouth... Rolling your eyes once again, you flip some hair behind your head. "Oh don't worry your pretty little head about that, Ram." Eyes flickering around the party some more, searching for your own target, you rest your hands on your hips that are tightly bound, in various layers of violet georgette cloth. The witches hat on your head is pinned down, so theirs no chance of it flying off. You have a train of thinner fabric hanging down the back of your short-short skirt, and your tight tube top reveals exactly the shapes you require it to. "I'll be perfectly fine- oh, have you seen Kurt anywhere?"

"Uhhhhhhhhhhh I think I saw him and Liz against a wall earlier- but by the looks of Liz, I doubt they're in a situation like that anymore." He chuckles, dumbly. The stupid boy has a slur in his voice that you hadn't noticed before but probably should've known would be there. But you're sure focusing in on him now, jealousy burning in your eyes at his description. What does that mean??

"What?"

A geek walks by, toting a bottle in his hands that Ram snatches for himself. As the kid continues by, faster now due to the angry look in Ram's eyes and the animalistic growl that slips from the footballers lips, you continue to glare bullets at Ram. He takes a messy swig of his beer before continuing. "Just sayin', Y/N. Your friend's a prude. Won' even let Kurt get to second base with 'er or anything. So I'd say Kurt's, probably, uhhh... by the pool table, now." He shrugs big round shoulders then, as relief and mirth wash over you. So he didn't mean they'd have moved their dirty little adventure to somewhere they could really get down, or anything. He means quite the opposite.

A smirk graces your red painted lips.

"Well- enjoy your party." You shrug, not really caring as his eyes shine... turning back to the demon girl who's just laughing with her friends; He sure will. Eyes narrowing, you mutter a bitter "Dick." under your breath, as a final bid to Ram.

Turning on your heel, you head back into the house. You've been here plenty of times with Kurt and know exactly where the pool table is (And how uncomfortable it is to be bent over) and sure enough- there he is.

Your boyfriend.

Or, soon-to-be, once-again boyfriend.

He's standing back with a stick, waiting for his turn as he laughs with some over football boneheads. Lizzie isn't here, but you suppose she could have gone to get a drink or talk to one her - your, - friends, but where she is actually doesn't concern your in this moment. All you can do right now, is stand and stare.

God, he's hot.

You miss him; You really do. And, admittedly- not just because he can fuck you like no one else.

But your moment passes, and you gather your wits. Ready.

You're hot, you're smart, and you're ruthless. You can do this.

Saddling up beside Kurt, a genuine smile slips across your face as you look up at him; Running a hand back through your hair. "Hey, Kurt." Slightly widening your eyes, you raise a brow as he turns to look down at you. "What's up?"

Like- its been a while. What have I missed?

Immediate 'Oooooh's and 'Oh no the ex- Kurt watch out!'s erupt from his meathead athlete friends, but what you care about is how Kurt struggles for a moment to tear his eyes away from yours, like the eyeliner you perfected and the colour and the just- you, has hypnotised him. He flashes his friends a wicked grin, waiving them off as he turns to put his body between you, and the group. It puts you so close together- and you sure don't step back any.

Then his eyes flicker down to the rest of you- and he really has a problem looking away. "Oh, uh, hey Y/N. N-nothing much. Uh... you look... "

A gentle chuckle flutters out of you, resting a hand on your right hip. "What? Black cat caught your tongue?"

Jesus- even the mention of that particular muscle reference to him does something to you. And being this close to him again, and seeing his reaction to your outfit... its all just so right. The way things should be.

He opens his mouth to say something else, but immediately closes it again on remembering something. A seriously awkward hm sound escapes him which you don't quite get yet, but you decide that you don't need to.

"So... " You start, getting rid of the tough bravado suddenly... letting awkwardness seep into your tone; Your appearance. On purpose. Eyes downcast, you let your arms slide down to your sides again, lacing your fingers together in front of you for a moment, pretending you're at a loss for words. "Um... maybe this is... weird... "

"What?" A big hand ghosts over your hip- you can just feel his skin graze against you.

You look up to catch his gaze again suddenly, lips and eyebrows scrunching after a moment, unsurely. "Uh, well... " Chewing innocently on your bottom lip, you hold your arms behind your back; not-at-all meaning to push out your chest more. No, not at all... "Me coming up to talk to you... since the break up... "

A hiss escapes him, as he suddenly, seemingly, like just seeing you had him returning to old habits, remembers that fact himself and takes a step back from you. Your brows knit together, up at him- perfectly pitiful.

"Oh man- yeah. Maybe. Fuck!" He runs a hand up through his hair, looking convincingly tortured.

Already!

You could rejoice.

Oh, Kurt... we've only just started.

Sighing, you look away again. "Look, I'm sorry. I just... well, Kurt, I've missed you!"

Suddenly his eyes, still and focused, turn more sternly down on you and your insides squirm at it. Like muscle memory, your body screams for you to back up; Get on your knees, bat your lashes. Ask what's wrong, Daddy?

His eyes narrow, and you resist the temptation to smirk. "Oh- no. No, Y/N. I know what you're doing, okay? I'm not dumb! This is all just too... too... " The fact that he cant even really speak, even as he's trying to be all tough and put up walls between you two, really gives you confidence. You must still really have an effect on him- as you should. Of course you do. One week with a little lily livered slut bag does not erase an entire lifetime between two people. Kurts lips curl into a scowl. "You're not like this." He states, and you raise your brows. Oh? "You're manipulating me, aren't you? Come on, Y/N!"

His tone is pleading. He's begging, you.

Damn, he must really want Miss Lizzie's little ass.

After a moment, you shrug. "Okay, whatever, you got me." Shedding the innocent act, you lean back on the pool table as the boys continue to play; Laying yourself out for him. "Does that mean I was lying? No, I really do miss you."

He scoffs. "Yeah, right." Rolling his own eyes, he focuses his gaze off somewhere else in the party- rather then on you. "All you care about is your reign of terror."

Oh... he knows that's not true.

But still, if he's going to play that way- "Yeah, sure- and all you care about is pussy." Shrugging, you drum your fingers bordly against the edge of the table on either side of you. "I guess we're a pair."

"Fuck, Y/N... you know you're... y-you're... Damn, that I love you. You fucking know that." He hisses, getting mad. And you inwardly smirk.

There it is...

Tightening your grip now, you look up at him to see he's once again looking at you. And for a moment, amongst all the madness that party's are- it feels like its just you two. "And you know... I love you."

Pushing off the pool table, you stalk towards him and trace your hands up his chest; Locking your arms around his neck lazily, and resting your chest against his. And you can see it. You can see, the struggle inside him about whether to just give into you- and your tits and your lips and your hips, and- just, you! Or to stay away. Because you're poison; Even you're well aware of that fact.

You're like a boa constrictor. You get yourself wrapped around your victim and you squeeze, and squeeze, and squeeze... until you have them just how you want them. Moulded into a shape that works well, for you.

But he's a lion. Imposing, and selfish, and self serving. And too big for you to ruin.

Its like you said; You're a pair.

And you cannot give him up.

"Kurt... come on." Leaning up, and talking in a quiet, just-for-him voice now, your lips brush against his and he lets out a shuddering breath. "We belong together, don't we? Its us- forever. You've known it since second grade. Sure, it took me a few more years to realise it too, but we're here now." Sincerity bleeds into your tone; Something you can't help when he looks like he wants to kiss you so badly, like that. "It can't be you and her." It cant. Tilting your head to the side, teasingly, you smirk mischievously; Just for him. "Is she going to fuck you like I do?"

"Shit... " Kurt mutters, eyes stuck on your lips. His hands find your waist, gathering you up against him roughly like he always does when he just wants you. Animalistically, wherever you are- whoever sees be fucking damned.

But he still isn't taking you. And that's a problem.

Brushing a thumb over his bottom lip, you turn your head like your making out to kiss him- but don't. Furrowing your eyebrows, you look pleading at him for an answer. "Was it all a lie, then? With us? Were we?- "

And that does it- he's had enough- he's at boiling point- Lips smash into yours, crossing the centimetre of space between them and he doesn't fuss around at all, to warm up. Your tongues connect almost instantly, and in 0.2 seconds, you two are that moaning, making out mess couple that every party has.

Through your lust filled haze, you can just about feel victorious.

A few moments after that your back hits the closest wall, and your legs wrap around his waist as he holds you up- you two know the drill by now. Kurt's grinding his raging hard on deliciously through his jeans into your bare cunt- moaning and muttering something into your cheek as he sloppily makes his way down to your breasts about you being such a slut.

You REALLY don't mind.

Eyes half lidded, you catch sight of Lizzie in the crowd behind Kurt. The crowd that, apart from her, doesn't care at all what the two of you are doing.

You smirk absolutely evilly towards her, before mouthing 'mine'.

#Kurt Kelly x Reader #Kurt Kelly x Fem!Reader #Bitch Reader #Mean Girl Reader #Mean Girls #Mean Girls the Musical #Heathers #Heathers x Reader #Kurt Kelly x Reader Oneshot #Ram Sweeney

[fandominvolved]

I'll make the moon shine just for your view | SamBucky

Warnings: none just tooth rotting fluff without plot

"You're seriously not considering it?"  Bucky asked temporarily shifting his gaze towards Sam, "I mean, it's pretty high up,"

Sam rolled his eyes, bumping his shoulder against Bucky's, "Calm down, It's just a kite in a tree what's the worst that could happen?"

"You could fall to your death," Bucky retorted, biting the inside of his cheeks as his fingers tapped against his thighs.

"If I don't get it down Sarah is going to kill me," 

"Then maybe you shouldn't have taken AJ's kite," Bucky shook his head, "I kept telling you it was a bad idea,"

"Are you always such a party property? Don't answer that, Buck, I know you are," 

"I'll grab it," Bucky huffed, as he glared at the tall tree in front of them, the branches stretching out blocking the sun rays. A big kite wrapped around one of the twigs on the top.

"You sure?" Sam met Bucky's eyes, his eyebrows furrowing together, "you don't do well with the whole height thing,"

Bucky shrugged, "I won't die if I fall, you will,"

"I'm pretty sure I won't die if I fall from that height, just break a bone or two," 

Bucky ignored Sam as he walked up to the tree biting back a groan as he saw Sam fish out his phone a small twinkle in his eye. 

He used to climb trees when he was a kid, he can do this. Bucky pressed his metal arm against the bark, his right arm following suit. 

"Getting cold feet?" Sam teased, letting out a laugh as Bucky not so subtly flipped him off.

With confidence Bucky was pretty sure he didn't possess he gripped the lowest branch he could fine. Hauling himself up until he was comfortably seated on it. 

"That was easy, only a couple more feet to go," Sam snickered.

"Are you waiting for me to fall off?" Bucky snapped, as he glared daggers into Sam's head.

"Of course I am, what kind of boyfriend would I be if I wasn't?"

"A normal one," Bucky mumbled under his breath. Carefully balancing on the branch he started to climb higher, making sure not to step on the thin branches. 

"Got it," Bucky shouted, as he untangled the kite from the tree, "It's broken!" 

There were two massive rips in the middle of the kite where smaller twigs had impaled it. The tail had somehow ended up separated from the kite. 

Ignoring the guilt that was going to start to eat him up, from breaking a kids kite Bucky peered down at Sam, "The tails gone," 

"I'll buy AJ a new one before Sarah gets back, come on," Sam shouted.

"Aren't you going to turn off your phone?" 

"No. Now hurry up and get down there," Sam threw a wary glance over his back hoping that Sarah wasn't back. 

Bucky grumbled under his breath, grabbing the kite with his right arm. He held on to the branch with his left and slowly lowered himself from branch to branch.

Everything was going fine. Everything would have been fine hadn't it been for a slight miscalculation. 

Bucky's left hand reached out to grab onto a branch as soon as he lowered himself onto it, the branch snapped. And Bucky was falling.

He let go of the kite as his body kept hitting branches. Bucky placed his arms around his head hoping to soften the inevitable blow once he fell.

And in what seemed forever Bucky finally fell onto the ground. A small rock digging uncomfortably into his leg, small scrapes littered his face as he spat out some of the dirt that managed to make it into his mouth.

The only thing he could hear apart from his rapidly beating heart was the loud ringing in his ears. 

Bucky rolled over to his back, sighing shakily as his limbs seemed to be screaming in pain. 

"Shit, Buck, are you alright?" 

Sam's face was in front of him, way too close for comfort. Bucky tilted his head to the side, ignoring Sam. 

"I hate you,"

Sam chuckled as he extended an arm towards Bucky, "You can't blame me for your own mistake, you were the one that suggested you climb the tree,"

Bucky glared at Sam's hand, swatting it away from his face as he sat up.

"Where's the kite?"

Sam looked at Bucky a small smirk on his face, "Pretty sure its still in the tree,"

Bucky groaned and laid back down on the dirt, covering his eyes with his hand. "I swear, fighting nazis was easier than this,"

Bucky peaked between his fingers as he heard Sam laugh. His head was thrown back, mouth wide open letting out one of the most beautiful sound Bucky has ever heard. His laugh was airy, and almost teasing and he loved every single second of it.

"You're smiling," Sam teased, poking Bucky's shoulder once his laughter died down.

Bucky shook his head, "shut up," He mumbled, no real heat behind the words. He opened his arms, and met Sam's gaze. 

"Come 'ere,' Bucky grumbled.

"God, you really are bipolar," Sam laid his head onto Bucky's chest as he settled himself over the male. His thighs on either sides of Buckys hips, "You're like a big teddy bear,"

Bucky hummed as his hands lazily rubbed circles on Sam's hip. 

Sam lifted his head of from Buckys chest, and pressed a chaste kiss to Bucky's lip. 

"Thats not fair," Bucky whined, as he stared at Sam, "that barely counts as a kiss,"

Sam shook his head, "You didn't managed to get the kite, don't think that type of behavior warrants a kiss," 

Bucky rolled his eyes, "Sorry I let the kite go while I was falling to my death,"

"Do i ever tell you how much of a drama queen you are? Because you're a drama queen," Sam smiled, lighting up his face even more under then sunlight.

With a sigh Bucky rolled both of them over, until he was on top of Sam, "You're annoying," Bucky whispered.

"I'm the annoying one?"

"You were recording me, waiting for me to fall," 

"And you did so I was right in recording you,"

Bucky shook his head, "shut up," He mumbled leaning down to connect their lips together. 

Their mouths moved slowly against each others, Sam's hand sneaking up to Buckys hair and tugging on it lightly.

"Insatiable," Sam murmured against Buckys lip.

Bucky lifted himself up from Sam, "do you ever get tired of insulting me?" 

"If I say no will you continue kissing me?" Sam murmured, his half lidded eyes looking at Bucky with a soft smile on his ffirst.

Bucky chuckled, "Now whos insatiable," leaning down once again, he pressed their lips together.

Each kiss always seemed to be better than the last, their lips molding perfectly against each other like puzzle pieces. Their breaths mingling together, as their two separate souls became one. 

This was home. 

Bucky broke the kiss, "I think I heard Sarahs truck,"

Sams eyes widened as he pushed at Buckys chest, "Come on, get off me, I'll just use Redwing to bring down the kite,"

"How will you fix it?" 

"I'll manage," 

Sam stared up at Bucky, their eyes meeting. Maybe at first Sam found it annoying, how Bucky would stare at him every single second of the day ignorant to the way it made Sam nervous. But now? All he sees as he stares up at Buckys eyes is the painful love and adoration the man seems to hold. 

"Sam, Bucky?" Sarah called out, "i need help me with the groceries,"

"Thats my cue," Sam huffed, Bucky shook his head and stood up lending a hand to Sam.

"I'll distract her until you get it down," 

"I knew there was a reason were dating," Sam laughed as Bucky flipped Sam off, again.

He had lost so much to get where they are today, but God, he wouldn't change it for a thing. 

#sam wilson x bucky barnes #bucky barnes x sam wilson #bucky barnes #fluff #marvel #oneshot #sam wilson #sambucky #the falcon and the winter solider spoilers #plotless #sam wilson deserves the world #sarah wilson

[rafecameron]

Hospital For Souls

Summary: Rafe decides that instead of the usual halloween parties the kooks would attend this year the perfect way to celebrate the spooky evening would be to explore the abandoned building he found the week before. This is for @bricksatanakinswindow​ spooky writing challenge!

Pairing: Kooks x Reader (a lil Topper x Reader)

Word Count: 4.5K

A/N: Okay so I’ve never written anything scary before so this probably sucks ass and isn’t even scary. But that being said I have tagged people who have asked to be tagged in my work but if you don’t want to read anything horror related please don’t feel the need to, I won't be offended! Also the first half is proof read and the rest isn’t bc lazy.

*GIF is mine*

“Rafe where are we going?” You ask with an exasperated sigh, every time you asked your best friend for any kind of hint to where you were going he’d simply tell you you’re almost there.

“Yeah man we’ve been walking for ages.” Topper complains from beside you.

“Look, we’re almost there okay?” Rafe turns to shoot you all a glare, “Just stop asking!”

You let out a groan but shut up as you follow after him, sharing an annoyed look with the two boys beside you. Rafe had driven you all out to the cut as soon as it started to get dark, parked up in the middle of nowhere, and insisted you all follow him into the trees. If you didn’t know him any better you’d think he was going to murder the three of you and bury you out here. But the backpack slung over his shoulder wasn’t big enough to hold a shovel so you were sure you would be okay.

Deep inside the tree’s you finally come to a stop outside a building. From the front it looks no bigger than your house, but you can see that it goes a lot further back. The windows are boarded up, graffiti littering the exterior of the building.

“What the hell is this place?” Kelce asks as Rafe heads up the crumbling stone steps.

Rafe simply shrugs, “No idea.”

“Great explanation.” You roll your eyes waiting at the bottom of the steps with Topper, “How did you find it?”

“Yeah, what the hell were you doing out here?” Topper questions.

“I found it after getting into an argument with my dad. Drove out here, got out the car to smoke and just found it.” He says, like walking through the woods in the cut alone to smoke was a totally normal thing to do.

He pulls out what look like bolt cutters from his bag and starts attacking the chains on the doors, you raise a trimmed brow and turn to give Topper a ‘what the hell??’ look.

“Uh, Rafe? What are you doing?” You ask.

“Trying to get inside.” He says through gritted teeth as he squeezes the chain between the blades.

Kelce stands with his arms crossed, back leaning against the wall watching his friend fight with the metal, “Why would we want to go inside?” He asks.

“To look around?” Rafe poses it as a question, letting out a whoop when the chain finally breaks in two, “Unless you’re scared?” He turns to you with a challenging grin.

“Scared? No.” You shake your head, “Doesn’t mean I want to go in there. We’ll probably fall through the floor or something.”

“Yeah I’m with y/n on this one, doesn’t exactly look like it’s had a safety check in a good couple of years.” Topper tilts his head to look up at his friends on the steps.

“Fine, stay here then, if you’re scared.” Rafe taunts before disappearing inside, Kelce hot on his heels with a laugh.

“Seriously?” You groan. You share a look with the boy beside you before letting out a sigh and starting up the steps.

The inside was pitch black, you could barely see a hand in front of your face let alone where you were walking.

“Guys?” Topper calls out, you feel his hand brush against your arm as he tries to feel his way around.

You’re suddenly blinded by a bright light, causing you to stumble back into something hard, “What the hell?” You shout covering your eyes as Rafe laughs from behind the light.

“Figured we’d need these.” He says chucking the torch at you, you fumbled to catch it, rubbing your lower back which had hit the cabinet behind you.

“You’re an asshole.” You grumble.

You shine the light down at the floor in front of you, it’s covered in years worth of dust, clouds of it floating up into the air as your friends distrubed it. You point the torch around the room, looking at the array of abandoned furniture, none of it giving off any indication as to what this building used to be.

“I’m so glad this is where we’re spending our Saturday night.” Topper comments, tapping his torch against his palm to get it working.

“Where’s your sense of adventure?” Rafe asks, his voice far away as he heads deeper into the building.

“Since when were you the adventurous type?” You call after him.

The rooms smelt musty and old, the building itself seemed older than any other on the island you had seen. The doors were thick and wooden, the cement of the walls starting to crack and crumble due to years of neglect. You couldn’t help but turn your nose up at the entire evening. You would have much rather spent the night at a party getting stupidly drunk, like you were sure every other teen on the island was.

“Where did they even go?” You mutter mostly to yourself, Rafe and Kelce had disappeared down the dark hallway and you could no longer see the light from their flashlights.

“Do you want to wait outside?” Topper asks, sounding half bored and half scared.

You considered it, already sick of breathing in the polluted air but ultimately you shook your head, “It’s dark, one of them could fall and hurt themselves.”

Topper nods and follows you through the cluttered hallway. You shine your light into each room, illuminating its contents but not seeing your friends anywhere.

“I think this was a school or something.” Topper comments, his light landing on chairs and desks spread around one of the rooms, a blackboard propped against the wall still had squiggles of chalk on it.

“Maybe.” You murmur.

You weren’t sure if this really was a school or if people had used this place as a dumping ground for old furniture before finally abandoning it. Either way, you didn’t care. You just wanted to find your friends and get out of there. You were admittedly starting to get a little creeped out. You’d never been in a place so deathly quiet before. It was almost as if even your breathing and footsteps had been muted. In a place where you expected to hear echoes you were met with nothing but silence. It was eerie.

“Guys?” You call out, “C’mon we’re gonna get lost in here!”

You shoot a worried glance to Topper at the lack of reply from your friends, already concerned something had happened to one of them.

“They’re trying to fuck with us.” Topper grumbles and although you agree it’s likely, you had known Rafe your whole life after all, you were still worried about one of them falling and breaking their neck in the dark.

It wasn’t until you had been searching for at least another five minutes that you hear Rafe’s voice calling you from a distance.

“Get over here!” He calls, a light appearing down the bottom of the hallway.

You huff out and hurry towards the light, Topper close on your heels. As you get closer the light disappears inside a room and as you round the doorway you find Rafe and Kelce standing in front of a table, lights pointed down at the surface.

“What?” You snap, annoyed that no in fact one of them had not been dying, they had just been ignoring your calls.

“Check this out.” Kelce waves his light across the table for emphasis and you peek over his shoulder.

“What the fuck is that?” You frown.

“A spirit board.” Rafe answers, “Are you stupid?”

You punch him on the shoulder, “Hard to see under all the grime.” You huff, “Really, it’s fascinating, can we go now?”

“You don’t wanna try it out?” Rafe asks and even Kelce snaps his head up at that.

“No, I definitely don’t want to try it out. Can we just go? It’s freezing in here.” You cross your arms over your chest, rubbing your hands against your cold arms.

“Don’t be wimps, c’mon.” Rafe picks up the board, blowing the dust off before placing it back down.

“Rafe, we’re not playing that stupid thing.” Topper tells him.

“Don’t be a pussy Top.” Rafe picks up the plachette from the floor and places it in the middle of the board.

“I’d rather be a pussy than possessed.” Topper holds his hands up with a nervous laugh, “I’m not touching that thing.”

“You really believe that crap?” Kelce asks, switching his torch to his left hand as he reached out for the wooden item.

“Believe it or not, I’m not risking it.” Topper shrugs.

“I’m with Top, I’m not touching that thing. Besides, it’s filthy.” You wrinkle your nose as your friends place their fingers on it.

“Ask it something.” Rafe instructs Kelce.

“What the fuck am I supposed to ask?” Kelce frowns up at him.

“I don’t know man. Whatever they ask in those horror movies.” Rafe shrugs, looking down at the plachette expectantly as he waits for Kelce to speak.

“Uh, alright.” Kelce rolls his shoulders and clears his throat, “Uh, is there anybody here?”

All four sets of eyes sit on the plachette, waiting to see if it does anything. A few moments pass and Rafe nudges Kelce with his elbow.

“Ask something else.” He says.

“Like what? I’m guessing the answer to that one was ‘no’” Kelce rolls his eyes.

“I guess there’s no one here then, lets go.” You grab Toppers elbow as you make to turn around.

“Hold up,” Rafe twists his head to look over his shoulder, “Let’s just try again. Ask again.”

“Why can’t you ask? I don’t want no ghosts following me home.” Rafe shoots Kelce a glare and the boy lets out a sigh, “Alright, fine. Is there anybody here?” He asks again.

You glance around the room while the boys play with their board, the table, board and two metal chairs are the only pieces of furniture in the room. The set up seems strange, like someone used this room for the sole purpose of communicating with the board.

“It just fucking moved!” Rafe calls out causing you to snap your eyes back to the board.

“It’s still in the same place.” You comment.

“No it definitely just moved!” Rafe argues, eyes glued to the wooden shape.

“Rafe, can we just-” You cut yourself off as you watch the object slide across the board slowly, the movements jittery as it makes it’s way to stop on the ‘YES’ at the top of the board. “Okay, which one of you moved that?”

“I didn’t do it.” Kelce holds his hands up, “I swear.” He looks over at Rafe with a raised brow.

“Well I didn’t do it, put your hand back on it.” Rafe tells him, his eyes flashing with excitement as he looks back to the table.

The plachette starts moving again, slowly and uncertainly it makes its way across the board. It moves to the left and down, coming to a stop over the letter ‘O’ for a few seconds before moving again. To the right this time it stops on the letter ‘U’ before shuffling the tiniest but to the left to stop on ‘T’.

“Out?” Topper asks, worry knitting his brows together.

You just let out a laugh and roll your eyes, “Very funny, ha ha, you got us. Let’s go.” You clap your hands together in mock applause.

“We didn’t fucking move it!” Rafe protests, “We didn’t even ask it anything!”

“Well I don’t believe you! I know you’re trying to fuck with us Rafe, it isn’t going to work!” You place your hands on your hips, glaring at the boy looking over his shoulder at you.

He quickly drops his fingers from the board, holding them next to his shoulders, “I didn’t fucking move it.” He says adamantly.

Kelce copies his movements, removing his hands as he stared down at the bored, “You had to have moved it, because I didn’t.”

“Of course he moved it.” You sigh.

But a squeal is quick to leave your lips as the plachette flies off of the board unaided and hits the wall to the left, both boys in front of the board suddenly jump backwards.

“Fuck this!” Topper spins on his heel and hurries out of the room, you not far behind him.

“What the fuck, what the fuck, what the fuck.” You mutter to yourself as you run after Topper, the sound of footsteps behind you telling you your two other friends weren’t far behind.

“Did you fucking see that?” Rafe calls, excitement evident in his tone.

“Yes we fucking saw it why do you think we’re running?” Topper calls back out of breath.

Your flashlights danced across the ground as you all sprinted through the hallways, you weren’t entirely sure Topper was leading you the right way but right now you didn’t care. As long as you were far away from that room you were okay.

You only came to a halt when you were all out of breath, your hands rest against your knees as you suck deep gulps of air into your lungs.

“What the fuck was that?” You pant out.

Part of you wanted to accuse Rafe of trying to scare you all but you knew he’d never be able to pull off something like that, he wouldn’t have the patience to set it up. You could feel your body shaking with adrenaline after your unexpected run, your heart was beating out of your chest.

Topper was leaning against the wall, head tilted back to meet the cold wall as he watched his two friends by the window.

“Did we run the right way?” Kelce asks as he peers through the window, “I can’t see anything out there.”

“I wasn’t really concentrating where I was going, I just wanted to get away from whatever that thing was.” Topper points a shaky finger in the direction they had just come from.

As he did a bang emitted from down the hallway, you couldn’t see what it was but it sounded like something had fallen over.

“Well either that thing is following us or there’s two of the fuckers,” Kelce shakes his head, “I gotta get out of here. Black people always die first in horror movies and I ain’t about to be murdered by some dead motherfucker.”

Kelce starts to head off down the hallway, and although you hadn’t been taking much notice of your surroundings you were sure you didn’t recognise this hallway.

“Kelce I think that’s the wrong way.” You call out to him but his figure keeps getting smaller.

“You wanna go back that way then be my guest!” He calls without turning around.

“He kind of has a point.” Topper shrugs and motions for you to go in front of him.

“I can’t believe you’re all freaking out,” Rafe shakes his head as he follows behind Topper, “It’s fucking exciting!”

“It is not exciting!” You snap out.

“Are you scared y/n?” He teases.

“Yes I am fucking scared! There’s like, a fucking poltergeist or something in here throwing shit around!” You shiver at the thought, “I’ve seen way too many horror movies to know how this stuff ends.”

You try your best to keep up with the boy in front of you but he’s practically running at this point and you weren’t sure you had enough energy left after your other sprint.

“Kelce slow down!” You call out to him, “We need to figure out where we’re going.”

“Well it’s gotta be this way, it’s not back that way is it?” He calls back, continuing at his fast pace.

“I’ll go get him.” Rafe says with a roll of his eyes.

He pushes past you and Topper and hurried into the darkness to pull his friend back. You stop walking, turning to Topper with an anxious look.

“I don’t think this is the right way. We could have easily gotten turned around when we were running.” You sigh and run your fingers through your hair.

“Hey, it’s fine,” Topper says though you can tell by the look on his face he’s feeling a million things and fine isn’t one of them, “we’ll find the way out.”

He places his hands on your hips, mostly to comfort himself with some physical touch rather than to calm you down. He rubs circles into your hips and you nod your head quickly.

“Yeah, I know. Why did someone think it was a good idea to board up the windows.” You groan out.

Topper lets out a chuckle, “To stop idiots like us from getting in?” He suggests.

You laugh softly before resting your forehead against his chest. His heart was beating rapidly and you were sure yours was no different. You stood like that for a couple of minutes before you finally pulled yourself away from his grip.

“Where are they?” You ask chewing on your lower lip, “Don’t tell me they’ve run off again.”

“C’mon, let’s go find them.” Topper holds his hand out to you and you gladly take it.

He leads the way down the hallway, searching desperately for any sign of light from the other twos torches.

“I can’t believe them.” You mutter to yourself.

You jump into Toppers side as you hear a bang from one of the rooms beside you. You don’t dare check inside to see if it’s your friends and instead hurry your feet along the floor to the end of the hallway.

“I don’t like this.” You whisper out to your friend.

“Me neither.” Topper replies, “But I’ll look after you.” He reassures you with a squeeze of the hand.

You offer him a small smile, allowing him to pull you down the left corridor. You couldn’t believe Rafe and Kelce had disappeared again.

“If we find the way out we’re leaving without them.” You glare ahead of you.

Topper laughs lightly, “You wouldn't do that,” he replies before whipping his head round, “did you hear that? Rafe?”

You squeeze onto his hand as you hear shuffling behind you like someone was walking without picking their feet up properly. You wait a few seconds but get no reply.

“I don’t think that’s Rafe.” You tug on his hand as you start to walk backwards.

Topper spins around pulling you into the nearest room and shutting the door behind you both. He leans his back against it in case anything tries to get through while you pace in front of him, fingers pulling at the roots of your hair.

“This can’t be real.” You mumble.

You pull out your phone to try and call your friends but you had no signal, big surprise. You push it into your pocket in frustration and let out a groan. The room Topper had pulled you into had no furniture at all, the only thing breaking up the dull walls was a door in the far corner. You slowly make your way over to it, a shaky hand reaching for the handle as you try to gather the courage to pull it open. You decide to do it like a plaster, you grab the handle and rip the door back, letting out the breath you had been holding when nothing jumped out at you.

“It’s another corridor Top,” you call looking over your shoulder.

Topper runs across the room, pushing you into the hallway and pulling the door shut behind you, “Okay, good. Now we’re really lost.”

“There’s got to be an exit around here somewhere. A fire exit or something.” You take hold of his hand again, urging him to take the lead and start walking.

The corridor seemed to go on forever. Thick doors lined the walls either side of you, each one pushed wide open but you didn’t dare turn your head and look into any of the rooms. You didn’t want to see anything that would give you worse nightmares than you knew you’d already be having.

As opposed to when you first entered the building nowhere was silent now. You were fully aware of every sound surrounding you. Every little creak of the floor, every bang from a random room and every footstep that sounded above you. You tried to convince yourself they were being made by your friends but you figured even they wouldn’t be stupid enough to go upstairs to find an exit.

“Topper, I’m getting really scared now,” You admit as the door behind you sways as though in a breeze coming from nowhere, “I just want to be at home. I don’t want to be here and I don’t want to walk back through the woods.”

Topper squeezes your hand, looking back at you over his shoulder, he tried his best to put on a brave face, “We will be home soon, y/n.” He reassures you.

You find yourself becoming more and more distressed as every corridor you turn down looks exactly like the previous one. None of them showed signs of harbouring exits and you were sure you would be in here forever. The bangs from behind you were getting louder and the footsteps from above never stopped, like whatever it was was following your exact path. Topper’s torch had once again stopped working and you gladly passed yours over to him, your free hand now also gripping onto Toppers as well.

In horror movies everyone always has such a will to survive. They run and they fight and you imagined that’s what it would be like in real life. But all you wanted to do was curl into a ball on the floor and not move again. You had no fight in you. No will to run up and down the hallways screaming and begging for help. You just wanted to sit and cry and hope that by the time morning came you could find your way out. But Topper wouldn’t let you and you wouldn’t expect him to wait around for you while you sat and had a breakdown.

“Hey, what’s that?” Topper comments, his light dancing across a door which looked suspiciously like the fire exit doors at your school. You allow him to drag you over to it at a jogging pace and you almost cried when he pushed it open and fresh air blew onto your face. You both tumbled out the door, the steps beneath you almost completely disintegrated. Out into the trees you want to fall to your knees and cry happy tears but you can’t.

“Which way do you think?” Topper asks shining his torch to the left and the right. You were at a random part of the building, the trees much closer to the exterior now and you had no clue which was to go.

“Well, if we follow the building we have to make it back to the entrance eventually, right?” You suggest biting your lower lip lightly.

Topper nods in agreement and heads off to the left. You ignore the sound of the boards banging against the windows, it was just the wind, the wind that was nonexistent.

The building seemed to go on forever and you thought you were lucky to have not been lost in there for much longer than you were.

“What if they’re not out yet?” You ask.

“We’ll wait for them.” Topper replies.

“And what if they’re not out by morning?” You question again.

“I don’t know, y/n,” Topper sighs, “Do you want to go in and find them?”

You quickly shake your head. You would rather sit outside all day and wait for them than go back inside and risk getting lost again. Luckily this one thing had gone right for you tonight and you had walked in the right direction, the entrance soon coming into sight. The second lucky thing was that Rafe and Kelce were sat on the wall along the stairs, legs swinging.

“I see you guys were looking for us.” Topper calls out causing the boys heads to snap up.

“I see you were too.” Rafe calls back.

As you get closer to the boys you let go of Toppers hand and hurry over to them, “You’re not possessed, right?” You ask, tiptoeing up to look them both in the eyes with a glare.

Once you were certain neither were possessed you turned to Rafe and pushed him in the chest causing him to topple backwards off the wall, “Asshole!” you snap out.

“What the hell y/n?” Rafe pops up over the wall with a glare, “Are you trying to break my neck?”

“Yes, actually. It’s the least you deserve after taking us in there!” You reply stepping forward to shove him again but Topper holds you back.

“Look let’s not fight, okay? Let's just get back to the car and get out of here before whatever is in there comes out here.” Topper decides for you all, you don’t protest when he takes your hand for the third time tonight. The touch comforting even outside of the building, you definitely needed it walking through the pitch black trees.

Every snap of a twig or rustle of leaves had you snapping your head round, certain something was following the four of you. Rafe constantly told you to calm down, while Kelce would rub your shoulder comfortingly. The only one seemingly unaffected by the nights events was Rafe but you couldn’t tell if he truly didn’t care or if he was putting on a brave face. Knowing Rafe it could be either of them.

You let out a groan of relief when Rafe’s truck comes back into view, running over to it with your hand still clutching onto Toppers. You crawled into the back seat, eagerly buckling yourself in and ready to get back into figure eight and away from this place forever. The pogues could have the creepy haunted building, you wanted nothing more to do with it.

The drive back was silent, Rafe humming along to the radio like nothing had happened, Kelce staring blankly out of the window and your and Topper clutching onto each other in the back. You decided to go back to Rafe’s, Rafe wanted to party and honestly the rest of you just didn’t want to be alone.

Inside Rafe’s living room you curled up onto the corner of the couch, gladly accepting the glass of whiskey the host offered you, gulping half of it down in one go and slowly feeling your body stop shaking. The more the four of you drank the more the conversation started flowing again, the alcohol helping the night feel a little less real.

You were sipping on your fourth whiskey when the sound of glass smashing behind you caused you to jump out of your skin. You spun round on the couch, noticing a picture laying face down on the floor surrounded in glass, one that had just been hanging on the wall perfectly fine.

You share a look with your friends, horror written across their features - Rafe included. Whatever you had found in that building had decided to follow you home.

@rudyypankow​ @joshy-obx​ @topperthornton​ @starlightstarkey​ @rafej-cambanks​

#rafe cameron x reader #topper thornton x reader #kelce x reader #outer banks x reader #topper thornton fic #rafe cameron fic #kelce fic #topper thornton imagine #rafe cameron imagine #kelce imagine #my writing #brickswritingchallenge

[justsomesomeone37]

For a while now I’ve been writing a su x gf crossover and I want to see what people think/ maybe get some help writing it. I’m new here so idk how this works but here it is

Steven applies for a job at the mystery shack. Under special skills he wrote “various superpowers“. Not too long after Steven got the job, dipper finds Steven’s application and sees where he wrote various superpowers. He asks them about it and he offers to show them off him and Mabel. So they go out into the woods for Steven to show off his powers. Before that, he explained how he was half gem half human, which dipper follows up with a bazillion questions. Steven did his best to answer all of them. After that, he started showing off his powers. First he showed them the basic stuff such as a bubble. Mable thought the bubble was cool so the asked if she could be in a giant hamster ball, and Steven said yes, so she ran around in a hamster ball for a while. Once she finally stopped. He showed them how the bubble could have spikes and be shaped like a crystal formation. It was very small so it didn’t damage anything, but still just a

My s cool. After that, he shows them his shield. Mable wanted to ride it like a toboggan down the hill. Next, he showed the hexagons he could make and control, so they ended up making a little statue of a mermaid. The mermaid got him thinking about water, which got him thinking about cat fingers. He asked them if they could go back to the shack for a bit, them not realizing what he was about to do. Once they got inside, Steven got a glass of water, then asked what they thought about cats. Dipper was kinda iffy, but mable was all excited, so he said “watch this.” Dipper could not be more confused. Steven’s finger was a cat and mable was going to explode with excitement. After Mabel finally calmed down and Steven put away his cats fingers, they went on the roof ledge to chill. Steven was talking about how much fun he was having while walking backwards towards the edge. Dipper told him to be careful, but he said not to worry and kept walking. He was almost at the edge and both twins were scared he was gonna fall.

Steven stepped off the edge and the twins raced to see if he was ok. Before they got to the edge, Steven shot up into to the air and started flying around. Dipper was ghost white. Mable shouted “oooooo, can I try?”

When the end of the day came, Steven got to stay at the mystery shack since he didn’t have any family in town. It was a long day of impressing the twins, but before they went to bed, Steven warned them. He warned them that he may do some weird things in his sleep, so they set up a set of cameras in the guest room to see what he meant. Then they went to bed. Some time in the middle of the night, Steven woke up in the mindscape, but this time there were 2 doors leading to each of the twins dreams. He opened one door to find a land made of rainbow and cupcakes. He decided to take a better look. Somewhere beyond the candy waterfalls, he found Mabel. Steven decided to stay and talk for a while, even staying for the tea party with sentient stuffed animals. After a little while, Steven decided to leave. After he found his way out, he started walking towards dippers dream. But when he opened the door, he was surprised. Rather than a dream, he opened it to see a giant dipper floating there. He knew exactly what was going to happen, because it had happened before with lars. He yelled “dipper, I’m sorryyyyyyyyy!” Then woke up the next morning in dippers bed right next to Mabel. He was about to tell her that he wasn’t dipper, but then he decided to play a little joke on her. He said good morning to her, but when she turned around the joke was immediately over. Turns out this time when he took over dipper, his eyes turned into diamond eyes. Mable jumped back and shouted “who are you and what have you done with dipper?!” Steven realized she was catching on, so he said “what do you mean?” Mable quickly said “your eyes??” So he went over to the mirror and looked, immediately knowing what she meant. So he said “you got me, I’m not dipper, I’m Steven.” What shocked Steven was rather than freaking out, Mable just said “again? What is with dipper and getting possessed? First a demon posses him, then we switch bodies, now this?” Then Steven explained what was going on, they went to Steven’s room to wake him up. When they walked in, Steven was glowing. Then he said “this is what I meant by weird stuff. The glowing, the possession, me being in your dream.” “Wait, that was you in my dream?” “Yeah, but we should wake me up ok wow that’s a weird sentance. Anyway, I don’t really know where dipper is, but he would probably like to be awake now.” So they woke Steven up, dipper’s body collapsed, then sprung up screaming “AAAAAAAAHHHhwwwwwhat just happened?!?” “I may or may not have just possessed you? I have a question, then you can ask me all the questions you want. Where were you?” “I-I don’t know.

Steven noticed that Mabel was sad, so he asked why. She said “I haven’t found a single guy to flirt with this summer and I’m kinda bummed about it.” “I got an idea. What’s your favorite type of plant?” “It’s hard to say, but I choose... all of them!” Steven thought to himself “kinda expected that” then said “how bout this, pick a plant you would date, I know is a weird question, but-” “a watermelon” “a watermelon? Why?” “Because,” she said, “they’re big enough you can hug. If it was a rose plant it would have too many thorns. I love roses, but they’re not the best for hugs.” “Ok. Be back soon, just gotta go do something.” About an hour later, Steven comes back and says “ok, close your eyes and follow me.” “I love surprises!” She exclaimed. After a bit of walking and a lot of bumping into things, steven says “Aaaannd, open them!”

After that dipper started with more question. Steven went to answer them, but then he remembered something, when gems fuse, anything one of them wants the other to know, they will know.

The twins and Steven were watching tv when the last episode of ducktective came on. By the time the show ended, the twins were very disappointed and so was Steven, just not as much.

Steven shows them a picture at the end of when he thought he was (and became) a monster. He even shows the twins a horn on his head hidden by his hair, kinda like the uncorrupted Quartz’s have.

Sorry if the text is all weird. The spaces means there is something missing and these pieces aren’t in order, but this is what I have. Feel free to reblog and or draw this, but however you go about sharing this, can you give me some credit somehow?

#su gf crossover #steven universe gravity falls crossover #steven universe #gravity falls #crossover #su #gf

[boop-le-snoot]

PARTY FAVOURS I CHAPTER 27

First time reader click here

TWs/Summary: If you read carefully, you knew this; if you didn't: reader was drugged at the party. Hangover from Hell ft. boys being cute, Loki being best friend material and reader fully integrating him into the Gen-Z community via Monster energy drinks and depressive music whilst being sad. I live for Loki/reader friendship tbh.

So folks, this is the last big plot thing before the endgame. I reckon it's about 10-15 chapters left until out happy ending and the next bit is going to focus on developing reader's and Stephen's relationship. There will be smutty parts too - either chapters or interludes, idk, depending on how well they'll integrate into the story.

I love y'all.

Ow, was my first thought upon waking up. My head throbbed something fierce, the pressure behind my eyelids was unbearable and my mouth tasted like a bog on a sunny summer's day. I was warm, from both sides, and one of the bodies felt foreign in everything besides the smell - sandalwood leaked through the lead curtain of alcohol and sex.

Needless to say, I had trouble piecing together the fine details of last night but had enough coherence to remember our... Activities. I was sore and Strange's long arm was still possessively draped over both me and Tony. The luck was on my side as I carefully wiggled out of his grasp, padding to the bedroom on quiet feet. The sorcerer barely moved, only grumbling briefly at the loss of my warmth and immediately quieting, shamelessly snuggling into Tony.

I would have not exaggerated if I said it was the worst hangover of my life. It was baffling, really, because I'd gone way wilder and didn't suffer half as much after effects; my first attempt to brush my teeth ended with my face resting against the toilet bowl, my empty stomach rejecting what little liquid in it was left as the room spun on its axis. That was incredibly embarrassing and I hoped my boys wouldn't wake up to witness my best impression of a bum - and they didn't, both men still sound asleep and interwined like snakes when I put on the shirt closest to me and departed in search of coffee.

My mood only worsened. Steve and Bucky were already up, shoveling an impressive amount of eggs and bacon, as Bucky quietly teased Steve about his own hangover. The blonde man was slightly greenish, disheveled - we traded equally glum looks and nodded to each other in silence. The smell of food made my stomach churn and I retreated, one black coffee in hand, towards Bruce's lab, having been informed by Friday that neither Tony not Stephen planned on waking up.

"Morning, Princess," Bruce smiled kindly, pushing his glasses out of the way to hold me close and give me a sweet kiss. "Had fun? The boys still asleep?"

I giggled at Bruce calling Tony and Stephen boys. "Yeah. I wouldn't be wearing Stephen's shirt if he was up and about, I think." I pointed out the obvious.

Bruce chuckled, holding my face to give me a long, thoughtful look. I stared back, hoping convey my respect and adoration without having to say a word; like Tony, I wasn't particularly apt when it came to talking feelings. Whatever Bruce was looking for, he found it, and sealed it with another kiss, twice as long and twice as sweet. We stood like that, my head on his shoulder and my arms firmly holding him to myself, until the elevator dinged behind the glass wall, revealing a shirtless Stephen and Tony in his pajama pants, both men bickering animatedly.

"Aw shit, here we go again," I rolled my eyes, unhappy about the possibility of the magic being broken. I rather preferred all three men to be like yesterday: friendly, kind and relaxed.

"I will kick them out if I have to," Bruce shrugged, turning me around to face them.

Tony smiled, seeing me, stopping mid-conversation. "Princess, I am disappointed in your lack of manners. You left me with Merlin and he is mean." The engineer unceremoniously snatched me from Bruce and smooched me, hangover breath and all.

"Gross, Tony," I rolled my eyes, giving the man a light shove in the chest. "Morning, Steph," I addressed the third man who had gone back to his usual stoic expression. Just to see his resolve crack, because I loved pushing his buttons, I gave him a good morning kiss too, and was unexpectedly blown away by the eager response from his side. As I pulled back, I noticed his cheeks dusting a light pink.

"I came to get my shirt but I think you'd rather keep it," The sorcerer's fingers caressed my skin beneath the collar of his shirt, voice still low and scratchy from sleep and those magnetic eyes fixated on the exposed flesh of my chest, no trace of previous awkwardness.

"You sure 'bout that?" I pushed one of the sides off, exposing my shoulder, seeing Tony gulp the remainder of my coffee, one hand already messing with the screen that Bruce was focused on. "I think I look better without it," I would never miss an opportunity to tease the uptight man.

"Quite," He grinned, "It's a shame I didn't get to see much last night..." Two could play this game, okay.

"Oh, but you will," Tony piped up suddenly, a hint of smugness in his voice barely covered by Bruce's fond chuckle. I really didn't know what to say, suddenly overwhelmed with the attention, my emotions amplified by the hangover - party drugs tended to exaggerate my anxiety on the comedown.

And what a comedown it was. My social energy ran out very quickly so I complained about a nasty headache and retreated into my room, Bruce's gentle hands pressing a bottle of Ibuprofen into my own. Despite my attempts to tame my rioting body, it got worse before it got better and shortly before lunch, I had thrown up twice more. Pissed off, I ran a bath with cold water and sat in it until I felt somewhat human to prepare myself for a journey to Wanda's apartment - as a last resort, I was going to chug on of Pietro's Monster energy drinks that I knew he kept hidden there.

The retrieval was a success. Cans securely hidden in the kangaroo pocket of Tony's oversized hoodie I had thrown on, I had to make a haste detour to throw up once again - the closest bathroom was in Loki's apartment and I only managed to knock twice before throwing open the door and making a mad dash for the porcelain throne, a very confused Asgardian following my movements with raised eyebrows.

"Hangover from Hell," I croaked once the first wave subsided. Loki nodded in understanding, waved a hand to summon me a water bottle and shut the door behind himself.

As I sat there, desperately trying to understand why was I feeling like utter shit... It clicked. Bile rose to my throat once again, and I just dry heaving, mulling my revelation over and over again.

I didn't take any drugs. I had been drugged. My memories became hazy and dream-like shortly after someone had given me the drink... Someone, who? It was a split-second moment; Sam, even in his drunk state, didn't keep his eyes off me for too long. Maybe it had been someone the team knew? Possibilities began playing out in my head. Cursed was my overactive brain - the anxiety from the leftover drugs was making me panic.

"Fuck, FUCK," My hands shook - I only noticed it because I had spilled water on myself, adding cold and wet to the unpleasant sensations I was already experiencing. "Why am I such a fucking fuck-up." Taking a drink from a stranger seemed downright idiotic now. Middle school bullshit.

"Are you alright?" Loki's worried voice interrupted my inner monologue.

"Yes," I replied, voice cracking. "No. I don't fucking know."

The door all but flew open, the Asgardian taking several long strides to take a good long look at me. The frown on his face tells me all I needed to know about my physical and mental state.

A slender hand tucked a stray lock of hair behind my ear. "What happened?"

I laughed tersely, feeling tears to begin welling in the corners of my eyes. "I'm an idiot," Seeing his face get annoyed briefly, I conceded: "I got drugged yesterday. My drink."

The hand that he had slid between my shoulder blades froze. I felt his whole body go rigid and his nostrils flare, the smell of ozone and something foreign - magic - filling the small space. The air around us became charged with the power of his anger. "Pardon?" His voice was dangerously quiet.

I physically fought with the need to flinch away from him, settling for lowering my eyes and staring at the dark stain on my hoodie. "I got carried away dancing. Someone handed me a drink and my stupid ass just shotgunned it," I confessed, picking at the wet spot. "And I can't tell anybody because I had a threesome with Stephen and Tony," I suddenly realised, my voice raising in pitch. "They're gonna think I didn't want it and feel bad. You know how Tony blames himself for everything under the sun..." Another wave of dizziness and nausea hit me as I leaned against the wall closest to me.

"Alright," Loki conceded after a brief pause. "We absolutely are telling the others. I'll make sure they understand," The Asgardian stated firmly in a tone that bore no argument. Seeing me lift my head to protest, he interrupted me before I could say anything: "Did you... Did you want it?" He asked me, hooking a single finger under my chin to look me in the eye.

I nodded, feeling my face heat up.

"You're not lying. The team knows of my ability to detect lies. Nobody will blame anyone..." Loki trailed off, obviously already plotting something. I wished it were a prank both of us were conspiring on instead of... Trying to make sense of this cluster fuck of a shit show. The circus called, they seemed to have left their clowns behind. "Although I will have a word with Sam." The Asgardian muttered darkly.

"No, it's not his fault. I just got too relaxed, I need to pucker up and be responsible for myself," I protested, damn well knowing it wasn't the Bird's fault. Everyone was drunk and I should've known better.

"It's not yours either," Loki sneered, seeing right through my self-loathing. It took a deep, slow sigh for him to calm down. His expression softened and the hand that was on my back resumed the gentle stroking as he scooted closer to me to press my side against his chest. "Vile people of this kind aren't exclusive to Midgard. It could have happened to anyone."

I nodded, my logical part briefly taking over as the waves of nausea and dizziness waned. I stifled a giggle, coming to another sudden revelation. "You holding up my hair as I barf out my hangover? That makes you qualified for the position of my Best Friend," I stated with a snort.

Loki chuckled, relaxing bit by bit. "I accept the position," His voice was unusually soft and a little bit shaky; I chose to tactfully ignore it. "Shall I call for assembly in the war room?"

I sighed, the dread and anxiety creeping it's way back in. "Can we just... Wait a bit? I have something- hold on-" I rummaged around my pocket, taking out two cans of Monster. Loki eyed them curiously and I extended one to him. "It probably won't do much for you but for me it's a last-resort hangover cure." I popped open the metal cap, seeing him do the same. "Be warned though, it tastes kinda funky if you're not used to it," I announced the disclaimer but it simply egged Loki on.

The scrunched up face he made was pretty funny. "It's sour but sickeningly sweet at the same time? I can't tell," He briefly eyed the written ingredients on the can.

"There are a bunch of flavors. Pietro likes the plain one, I like the purple one better, it's not so tongue-burning." I paused to inhale loudly. "If this is what college life looks like, I don't want to go," Mustering up my courage and gathering my balls in a knot, with one broad motion I closed my nose and poured the carbonated acid down my throat until my eyes watered. "Gimme a minute," I hiccuped, trying to keep it down.

Wide-eyed, Loki took a chaste sip of his own drink, eyeing me warily. He looked part impressed part disgusted with the little stunt. "I am pretty certain that is counter-productive."

"Caffeine make brain and body go skrrt," I argued back. "Friday, play my "grant me the sweet release of death" playlist. I'm upset," I announced and the AI obliged silently, the first notes of Placebo's 'Exit Wounds' beginning to play. If I was going to mop in a stranger's bathroom, I was going to do it with style. Even if said style was just simply stealing in my own misery with emo background music.

Loki stared at me, I stared back, both of us lost in our respective minds. At one point, he began swaying to the music slightly, resting the cool tin of the can against his cheek; I followed suit, mouthing along to some of the lyrics. It took us about a dozen songs to finally finish the liquid acid that was Monster energy drink and my ass felt like the bathroom tile itself: flat and hard.

"Do you ever feel like the universe just hates you for no fucking reason?" I groused, taking Loki's outstretched hand and slowly feeling the blood rush back to my legs.

"You wouldn't believe," He rolled his eyes in solidarity, vanishing away the empty containers. "Norns, give me a Hel-damned break."

I laced his arm through mine as we exited his apartment, feeling considerably less upset than I was before. I couldn't protect myself, but one look at Loki's sullen, irritated expression was bound to scare off anyone who dared to interrupt our mission.

THE TAG LIST IS NOW OPEN! @another-stark-sub ​ @mostly-marvel-musings  @vozit ​ @littlegasps ​ @pilloclock ​ @shereadsinquiet @downeyreads ​ @hermione-grangers-wife ​ @individualistfem ​ @sleep-i-ness @capbrie @lillsxd @agustdowney @dee-vn @justanotherblonde23 @fanngirl19 @persephonehemingway @softie-socks @schemefrenzy @letsby @cutenessloading @romeo-the-cactus @jelly-fishy-babie @mikariell95

#party favours #bun writes #tony stark x y/n #bruce banner x reader #stephen strange x y/n #tony stark x you #tony stark x reader #bruce banner x you #bruce banner x y/n #stephen strange x you #stephen strange x reader

[rametarin]

A learning experience.

When I was a teenaged boy, I bought a music CD. It was The Ringmaster, by ICP. Why did I buy an ICP CD? Because I was a middleschooler and it was 1997.

I only ever listened to it with a CD player with headphones. But, because my parents were assholes and as a child, my younger brother (4 and a half years younger than me) was a spoiled brat that ran amuk doing whatever he wanted, he eventually wanted to listen to it and I was told to share. Because I can’t have shit to myself at that age, I’m just the +1 in a package deal.

I didn’t like him getting in on everything I was trying to do to distinguish myself or insert himself into the middle of, because it just meant he’d be a little asshole, aggressively try and take it over, and he’d get it, so long as ma and pa backed him up. So he had every incentive to be all up in my business and anything I did. As a result, I learned to be boring and only do what I liked when nobody was watching.

But one day, my younger brother went into my room, got into my CD collection, took the CD player, and went to a my father’s girlfriend’s party. Where he started singing the lyrics out loud. Boy, wasn’t he a cool kid. 9 year old boy screaming out “adult rap” lyrics and obscenities like a big boy.

Dad got mad. At me. I was punished with lack of computer/internet access for a month.

I told him, straight up: “So let me get this straight: He goes into my room, without my knowledge or permission, takes my property, without my knowledge or permission, you pick him up and don’t bother to even discover what he’s listening to, HE starts singing the lyrics in the middle of her party out loud, and HE gets no punishment, while I am the one that gets grounded. I didn’t even GO to that damned party.”

I was punished for owning a music album with nasty lyrics. Not for singing it, not for playing it too loud, just possessing something vulgar and being a thirteen/fourteen year old boy.

And it wasn’t like my father was some sort of orthodox religious man, either. He was a fucking sailor and was used to vulgarities. He was a liberal person. He did so much fucking bullshit as a teenager that ‘listening to music with naughty lyrics’ in my teens is such weaksauce NOTHING that it was bewildering how much he refused to understand about this.

Dad realized he fucked up a bit and didn’t try to enforce the restrictions. But to be honest, I was mad enough if you can taste axe-murderer vibes off of somebody, I was radiating them like I was the Elephant’s Foot of Chernobyl. If I hadn’t already written both my parents off as unnecessarily abusive pieces of shit and spoilers that would take every opportunity to be petty before I’d even turned 10 years old, I’d have been more disappointed and angry. But punishing me for my younger brother being a little asshole thief and loudmouth at a party I didn’t even attend was the last fucking straw.

There’s a reason I never bothered to leave the house as a teenager. Every thing I did or didn’t do resulted in a big performance of outrage by my fat bitch of a mother and an arbitrary month+ long penalty of grounding and friendlessness. So, fuck it. You can’t prevent me from doing anything I’m already choosing not to do anyway, you sadistic fuck.

[eerythingisshaka]

Ride

[Rio x Reader]

Word Count: 3.2k

“Alright, alright party people!  Coming to the stage now is your girl, Candiiii!”  

DJ Thundercat announces a dancer to the stage who sends the house into a frenzy.  Lights dance across her body giving you mere snapshots of what she had going on before the glowing red spotlight revealed her deviant frame. The deep tones of her skin  set a perfect backdrop for the light to catch.  Her smile looked like fangs as she snaked around the stage, eyeing the crowd through the hordes of money raining in front of her.  She shakes her Diana Ross-esque hair around to rev up the crowd even more.

You carry your drink tray back to the bar and lean back, enjoying the view.

“She’s  a fucking sight, ain’t she?”  The bartender, Jules says to you while popping open a can of Coke.

“Always.  I don’t know how she does it every single time…”  your voice trails as she climbs the pole, leaning back into a move called the Eye Opener.  A guy in the front row looks like he wants to eat his chair, he’s so enraptured.

“Practice and passion is all it takes.  And when your money is up, a good doctor doesn’t hurt,”  Jules says before tapping your shoulder.  “You know a drop is going down tonight.”

“Really?”  you say with worry.  “Is it the same guy as before or someone else?”

“Someone new.  He may be working with the guy from before but since he got his job back as a cop he has to keep his nose a little cleaner.”

You snort.  “Yeah right.  So what is this guy's deal?”

Jules leans closer to you.  “So you know Aviator?  Last I heard, he is behind on some payments, plural!  How he is still breathing is anybody’s guess but some dude named Rio is coming in with his crew to set up a payment plan.”

“Well that’s nice...right?”  

Jules looks at you like you shat an egg.  “Are you kidding me?  That’s just code for curtains.  Sleeping with the fishes.  Giving him a Colombian necktie.  That’s why I’m telling you in case something big goes down.  Get your ass far away from the action as possible.”

You thank Jules as she sets a couple drinks on your tray for you to serve.  You adjust your red fishnet stocking rolling down your thigh and head over to table 8. 

“Thanks honey.”  One middle aged balding man says, holding out a $10 bill.

You smile nice and wide and take hold of the bill, but he won’t let go.

“Does this get me to see a little of what those cups are holding in honey?”  He palms your breast over your pleather cups before you could even clapback.  So instead you clapped the back of his shiny noggin.

With the $10 in your possession, you push in down your cleavage.  “If you like it rough, just ask.  But if you like it hard, try again.  If swallowing glass is your kink.”   His partner applauds, laughing at his friends mishap.

You briskly walk away, heart pounding in your chest.  You hate confrontation, but you refuse to be walked over in this business.  Certainly not by some cheap regular who tips to get his ass beat by women.  

You notice some figures entering in your peripheral.  The front is too dark to see but there are several heads standing by which you find odd.  

You find Jules for another drink order.  “Hey, do you recognize those guys?”

Jules squints at them as they come forward.  A stray light finds the face of one in the middle.

“Shit.  I think that’s him.  Rio.”  

You look over but Jules pinches you.  “Don’t call attention to yourself!  Be stealthy about it.”  She sets two more Cokes on your tray and shoos you away.  

You walk more carefully than you regularly do, nervous about the new guests.  You set the drinks down for the patrons who thank you and send you off.  When you turn around you almost bump into a figure.

“Shit, sorry,” you say before freezing in place.  This Latino dude with a neck tattoo peers at you like he was expecting you.  

“No, it’s no problem.  Excuse me will suffice.”  His voice sounds like when you strained your voice at a concert the previous night, raspy and low..  You wait a minute for him to laugh or smile to let you know he is joking but enough time passed to tell you that wasn’t the case.

“Well...excuse…”  You couldn’t bring yourself to the end of that phrase as you turned to walk away.  Is this fool joking?

“You didn’t take my drink order, Ms. Waitress,” he calls out to you.  Amazingly his low, gruff voice is very distinct over Megan thee Stallion playing in the background.

You walk up to him, looking him straight in his eyes.  You can’t lie that it is impressive how his eyes trained on your never wavered elsewhere.  Especially in a skin tight strapless one piece that hugged every curve like a straight jacket, how could he be so focused on a drink?

“Sure what can I get you?” you ask sharply.

“Don’t you need a pen and paper?”  He asks.

“I’ll remember it,”  you say with a slight slip of attitude.

His smile somehow does not break his stone glare.  It actually warms his features like a hearth in the dead of winter.  He must’ve been adorable as a child, you thought.  That smile would make anyone spoil him.

“I’ll make it easy for you then.   Get me and partners some top shelf whiskey, straight.  Matter of fact, bring the bottle and some shot glasses.”  

“We don’t serve alcohol, only Coke products.  Where will you be sitting?”  you ask, mouth turning dry.

He walks beside you, stopping just inches from your ear.  “Bring it to VIP.”

You let out a heavy breath when his crew deserts you and head for Jules at the bar who is steaming.

“What did I say?”  she hisses.

“I know!  But he walked up on me!  Look, he asked for alcohol.  A bottle of whiskey for shots.  What the hell do I do?”

Jules reaches under the counter, pulling out a brand new bottle of Johnny Walker and some clean shot glasses.

“For VIP we do, we just don’t advertise.  And he is as VIP as it gets.  Don’t do anything stupid.  Girls have come out of their having done shit they couldn’t even talk to God about.”

Your heart dips at the thought of what could happen and your usually steady hands tremble under the weight of the bottle and glasses balancing on your tray.  The velvet rope in front of the heavy curtains that lead to VIP is unlatched by a bodyguard who doesn’t even look at you: stoic as the Queen’s royal guard.you push open the curtain and see Rio sitting on the purple lounge couch, legs spread and posture relaxed.  Everyone is quiet.

He looks at you, and only you.  “There she is.  Thanks for pulling this favor for me Ms. Waitress.”  

He motions you over to him and you obey, laying the tray down on the glass table in front of him.

“Would you mind pouring it for me?  My wrist ain’t what it used to be and that bottle is pretty heavy,” he says, rubbing it for emphasis.

He doesn’t come off as weak in any sense of the word, but you oblige his request.  You give him a small smile and crack open the seal, filling the room with the glug of the bottle filling five shot glasses.

“You accept tips, right?”  He asks, reaching into his pocket to pull out a roll of bills.

You stand there with your hands folded in front of you trying not to stare.  “Well, if it’s offered.”

He nods slowly pulling a couple hundreds off.  “I’ll give you this if you take these shots with me.”

He lays down the money on the tray and looks up at you waiting.  You stutter anxiously.

“I-I thought you and-and your crew were drinking?”  

“If we were, we would.  But I like to keep them sober on the clock, so I figured we could indulge.”  He picks up a glass of the brown liquor.  “Sit down for me.”

You do so hesitantly, keeping mind to leave space between you and him.  He picks up a glass and hands it to you.

“I...don’t hold my liquor well,”  you confess.

“I don’t mind.”  He lifts the glass to his lips, knocking his head back swiftly and firmly sets the emptied shot on the table.

“Do I have a choice here?  We are shorthanded out there,” you lied, trying to see if any mercy was in his heart but he just stares.  You can see his jaw tighten over your resistance, fist balling on the couch.  Could he tell this wasn’t truthful?  Whatever it took to get out of there, you had to do.  The alcohol rushes down your throat a little too fast and although it was smooth, your windpipe just doesn’t agree with liquid going in it.  You go into a mad coughing fit and slam the glass down.  

“Shit, you aren’t good with alcohol for real,”  Rio smiles again, making you relax a bit that he is satisfied.

Rio bobs his head to the music bumping faintly in the background.  “You like this song?”

You shrug.  “It’s cool.”

“You can dance if you want to.  I don’t mind,” Rio leans back to wait for your answer.  You think back to Jules and what Rio can do to people who offends him, but you decide to test something out.

“That’s gotta be an extra $300 on top of that.”  You point at the money, anticipating his reaction.  

Rio smirks.  “$200 for a dance and $300 is you take another shot with me.”

You didn’t hesitate for the drink now, picking it up confidently and holding it up to him for a toast.  He takes his, knocking it against yours with a strong tink.  You down the shot this time without mishap and get ready to move.  

You stand up with your legs widened, letting your hips sway in front of him for a good ass tease, looking back to check on him checking you.  He still only looks at your face.

“You know this outfit isn’t for modesty,”  you say turning to dip low in a squat while holding onto his knees, sliding your hands up his thighs.

He looks cool as ever with a half naked woman climbing on top of his lap.  “I get the most out of someone when they look me straight in my eyes.”

You straddle his lap, feeling his chest, gripping his shoulders.  You work your hips on him slowly.

“Shows honesty.  I like that.”  You play with his ear, feeling his muscle twinge from being ticklish there. 

He shrugs.  “Honest or not, I can tell when I’m being lied to.  Like if someone is trying to screw me or screw with me.”  His arms rest on the back of the couch instead of on your body, making you feel cold and awkward.

“Is that why you’re here?  To meet a dishonest man.”  You whisper in his ear, which must be his thing as you feel some extra friction beneath you rising.  

Rio ignores you.  “You got one more shot left for the $500.”

You shake your head.  “You can have it.  You can touch me too, you know.  Perks of VIP.”  You slide your hand down his bicep to pull his arm around you but he pulls back.

“Take the shot.”  He says firmly.  You stop your dance, reaching for the glass and tipping it back.  You set it down haphazardly with a clatter, running our hands down his chest again.  You weren’t at all phased by his tone, if anything it excites you, makes you clench a little.  The heaviness of intoxication is setting in and you feel loose staring into his eyes.  Your fingers graze his beard, his neck, summoning you to his cologne, maybe he will let you taste him there...

“Rio!  Enjoying the sights I see!”

The new voice snaps you out of your mode as you fly off his lap to the side of him.

“Aviator.  Nice of you to fly in.”  Rio says.  He looks at you and motions his finger for you to come closer.  You do a mscooch, however your leg pulled over his lap is an added touch you don’t expect.

Aviator guffaws.  “Good one!  I was gonna offer you a drink but I see you got one so no need.  On the house, of course.”

“Let’s cut to the chase, shall we?  I haven’t seen you since November,”  Rio says, massaging your leg lightly, like you’re his pet.

“Well the business is slower in the cold months so hey what can you do.”

“The weather?  You think that’s an excuse here?  Do you even own one of them anorak jackets or something?”  Rio asks you as you shake your head no instantly.  You can feel his anger mounting on your leg as his fingers dig deeper in your skin.

“Still, it’s holidays and shit.  Look we can talk about this, but let’s lose the audience, ok?  Send your guys back and let the girl work.”

“She is working, very well might I add.  So you must think I’m dumb.”

Aviator pauses, looking around the room.  “I said we can talk about this privately.  I have a plan.  You, go bus some tables.”

“Get my money Aviator.  You’re overdue.”  He looked bored by this back and forth and ready to end it.  Your body temperature drops when he looks like this.  

Aviator stood there aghast.  “You’re new here, so let me tell you something.  You’re not going to embarrass me like this in front of my employees.  Get your ass up!”  Aviator grabs you by the arm harshly, you twist your ankle trying to keep up, falling to your knees.

You hear the sound of a gun cock as your ankle throbs 

“Aviator, you embarrassed yourself by not paying me.  You’re not the first nor will you be the last owner here so take a guess on what you’re about to do.”

You look up to see Aviator’s hands up and a Glock to his chest.  

“Help Ms. Waitress here up and take her to my car so we can have that privacy you want.”

You try to get up yourself but Aviator already has you.  “Rio, I still have my shift.”

“Aviator’s got you covered, right Avi?”

Aviator curses under his breath before agreeing out loud.  You limp with him out to the Escalade waiting in the alley.  You get in without saying a word as you watch Aviator walk back in, flanked by two of Rio’s goons.  You lean back, elevating your foot on an arm rest until Rio comes out.  When he gets in he tells the driver where to go, looking at you then your ankle. 

“We gotta put ice on that soon.”  Rio says nonchalantly, laying his arm behind your head.. 

“What happened to Aviator?”  You ask quietly.

Rio looks you over.  “You don’t have to worry about that.  Not your problem”

You stare at the city passing you all by, getting dizzy from the motion and drinks earlier, you see Rio once more looking at your body.  

“You have my $500?”  You ask earnestly.  “I didn’t pick it up back there.”

Rio smirks, looking out his window.  “This courtesy ride is nice, right?”

“I didn’t tell you where I lived.”

“Do you wanna go home?”  He asks, piercing his gaze into you.  They feel like they are daring you to say yes, go away, danger ahead and reroute.

“No.  Is it because I didn’t finish the dance?  Cuz that wasn’t my fault.”

“Oh yeah, about that.  I was offering you an exit there.  Go out on the floor, do what you gotta do but the lap dance was very nice.”

You laugh out loud.  “What?!  You didn’t tell me to stop!  What’s wrong with you, so I did that for nothing?”

Rio licks his lips examining you.  “Not for nothing.  You’re wilder than I thought, and I don’t think that’s the whiskey.”

You cross your arms in a huff.  “I wanted the money.  And of course you never acted against it so…”

Rio wags a finger at you.  “I appreciate that.  Going for what you want.  You got a business head on you.  I like that.”

The ride grows quiet as you survey this man.  He acts like an OG despite his age, running a tight operation with his goons.  Even in this car not knowing where you are going after he pulls a gun on your boss, you feel safe with him beside you.  But you had to know what made him tick.

You pull yourself on top of him, kissing him needily, tearing at his neck for his shirt button.

Rio talks through your kisses, gripping your curls in his hands.  “Is this what whiskey does to you?”

You lean back, opening his shirt.  “I want my money.  And if I have to teach you to give it to me, I will.”

Rio’s hands feel across your back and ass and you shiver at the sensation.  “I admit, I am a little hardheaded.”

“I’m very very strong willed”  You lock onto his mouth once more, tasting the liquor you both shared, running your hands along the front of his pants to find the zipper.  It felt so right as his hands guided your hips along his lap, pushing you on your back across the seat.

------

The next morning you wake up in a sea of blankets and pillows, head throbbing as you stare at the late morning sun.

“You get some rest, Ms. Waitress?”  Rio stands at the doorway of the bedroom with his hands in his pockets.

You try to sit up but your head won’t stop rolling.  “God I feel awful.”

“You look it too.”  Rio says, walking up to your side of the bed.  “Wore me out last night.”

You keep the sheets close to your naked chest with regret.  “I can’t believe this.  Did we…”

Rio pauses a little too long before saying,  “Nah, you complained you were dizzy and puked all over my backseat.  Taking your clothes was just part of the clean up.  Had to dock that from your pay unfortunately but got some daytime looks over there if you need.”  Rio points to a tshirt and sweats laying on a chair.

You weren’t about to argue with a gangster over money in his own house, especially if you fucked up his car.  “Thanks, I’ll get ready to go immediately.”

“Ah don’t sweat it.  Oh, and your cut is in the sweatpants pocket.  Hope you get something nice with it.”  

“Wait, did you...kill him?”

He cocks his head to the side.  “Who?” Walking towards the door he says one more thing.  “And, I would keep in touch if I were you.  There’s more where that came from if you’re willing to go after what you want full time.  I’ll see you around.”

When Rio leaves, you get up to put on the shirt and pants, reaching into the pocket.  Magically your $500 became $5,000.  You let out some choice curse words as you thumbed through the bills, thinking back on last night.  Being on your best behavior never paid this good.  And Rio piqued your curiosity enough to see what being bad felt like.

Masterlist

Tag

@chaneajoyyy​

#rio fanfic #rio x reader #shakafic

[dopescotlandwarrior]

Sinners & Saints

A special thanks to @statell​ for all your help

Previous Chapters at AO3

Chapter Four

“Hmm, I’m sorry sir, this is a fake. I know that’s hard to hear. I will speak to the police if you want to make a report.”

“You bloody well look again. That vase is Ming so that means you are an idiot.”

Jamie walked to the appraisal room at Christie’s where Claire was working today. His fists balled up listening to the man yell at the Sassenach.

“I assure you it’s a fake sir and I’ve decided not to help you with a report, you can go.”

“If you move one step, I will stop you until you prove why it’s a fake.”

“Oh for Christ’s sake, fine.”

Claire picked up the vase and threw it against the wall making the man gasp, red-faced, while Claire pushed past him and picked up a shard. Jamie’s eyebrows went up and he tried not to laugh, completely spellbound by her.

“The only true test of a Ming is the blue color of the clay after it’s fired. See, this is white. Oh all right you big baby, I’ll pay for it, I’m sure I have a dollar bill in my purse.”

The man screamed like a banshee and lunged for her, feeling his feet leave the ground, his face changed to shock as he reached behind him trying to open the hand that held him. Jamie shook his head when the man started yelling for help. He dragged the man to the door and whispered in his ear.

“Get near the lady again and I’ll rip your throat out, okay?”

The man bolted out the door and spun around to look at Jamie who smiled and thanked him for coming before closing the door. There were only two more people waiting for Claire to appraise their art and both looked nervous, clutching their prized paintings and looking at the shattered mess on the floor. One lady left, and the other was thrilled she had an authenticated treasure. Claire was a popular appraiser and seemed to know exactly where to find proof of her valuation. She would spin her laptop and there it was, selling price and picture of a comparable piece from the same artist.

Christie’s was very good at locking the doors at six o’clock, even when people pounded to get in. The room was suddenly empty except for Jamie and Claire. He helped her pack up and though she seemed normal in every way he could feel a disturbance in her energy.

“Sassenach, we have been up late every night this week. If you’re as tired as I am, maybe you should rest tonight and not be pestered by me.”

“Did you just suggest room service and a movie before early shut-eye? If so, then I accept!”

Jamie smiled and exhaled gratefully. It would have been a supreme sacrifice to lose a night with the Sassenach and he loved her suggestion.

“It’s our last night together, so we can celebrate the holiday a day early in our pajamas okay?”

Jamie’s palm itched as he thought about running his hand up the satin nightgown. He would miss her when they both went home and he wondered what promises they would make, if any.

“Javier has invited you to dinner tomorrow night. He throws a lavish party on Christmas eve at his restaurant and wants to meet you. What do you say?” She wrapped her arms around his middle for a hug.

“Of course, it would be my honor.”

Claire laughed seeing Jamie load his arms up with all her belongings, “you are super hot and so darn useful Jamie.”

That made him laugh but truth be told, like it or not, he was living for her next statement of endearment, whatever that might be. He just wanted to matter to her because that was the first step in building something that would change their lives. As long as there was a chance he might catch Casper, there was a chance at a life with the Sassenach.

“Jamie, I want to hire you to show me some exercises to build up my upper body strength, what do you say? There’s a gym at the hotel and I am worried because I can barely do three pull-ups anymore.”

“It would be a pleasure to assist you Sassenach,” he smiled realizing they would have the entire day tomorrow. No work for either of them, but such a strange request from one so fair.

When Jamie knocked later that evening, Claire felt the now familiar butterflies take flight in her stomach. She was convinced he had no idea she was Casper so she could just be herself, a professor with a crush on a cop. She asked several questions over the last few days about which agency he worked for but he was vague with the answers, saying the task force he led was a multi-agency effort. She didn’t want to pry and assumed his partial answers were a testament to an underlying boredom or unhappiness with the job. She might overthink her way right out of these hot nights with him, so she stopped analyzing him and just looked forward to the next time his hungry eyes devoured her.

Jamie had shamelessly taken possession of her body and mind every night this week and tried to calm himself down as he walked to her door. Even if he needed handcuffs it was the Sassenach’s turn at seduction and he just had to wait. He groaned inwardly trying to think of anything except her long legs, tiny waist, long hair, perky breasts, and her sweet kisses. He felt defeated already.

After a delicious meal brought by room service, Claire curled up in Jamie’s arms for a new movie they both enjoyed. Halfway through Claire turned toward him and unbuttoned his shirt pushing it off his shoulders. She moved her hand down the arm that was wrapped around her waist and tried to concentrate on the movie. She twisted to face him ten minutes later and kissed his neck and chest, pulling his face to hers she kissed him deeply and touched him everywhere.

The movie ended and Claire got up to lite the candles and hand Jamie another beer. She pulled him to the side of the bed and straddled his lap, kissing him slowly and then sinking to the floor. Jamie was fascinated with her moves, feeling like she was trying them for the first time, but that was ridiculous.

Getting his jeans off seemed to take an eternity while Jamie studied her. Keeping his hands to himself allowed him to experience Claire’s world and it was so different he was astounded. When she put him in her mouth, he could see this act pushed her arousal and she lost herself until Jamie pulled her away. Her mouth was open and eyes half-closed when he pulled her face to him for a deep kiss. I promise to try again to let you lead Sassenach, but I’m taking over, he thought.

Later, in the dark, Jamie ran his fingers through her hair and marveled at the mystery of Claire Beauchamp.

“Sassenach, how does one so tender throw a vase against the wall in front of the owner?”

“It really got his attention,” she giggled in her sleepiness. “He’s an opportunist that got hustled is what he is. I have no respect for people like that. He knew nothing of its providence or even which dynasty and had the audacity to challenge my authority on the subject. He deserved it.”

Jamie cataloged her answer in his brain and smiled to himself when she asked him to come closer. He wrapped her up in his arms and listened to the human equivalent of purring. A low soft moan that came from a happy place deep within her. He slept and dreamed of Lallybroch feeling her shift position through the night and reach for him. His sweet Sassenach.

Jamie was up and dressed early to conclude some new hire business. He gently pushed the hair out of Claire’s face, and she smiled trying to pull him in for a hug. He kissed her cheeks and whispered he would meet her in the hotel gym at noon and then left her to her dreams.

The morning blew past as Claire wrote reports, made phone calls, and returned email. She was feeling happy like sparklers were going off inside of her. It was Christmas eve, a holy holiday, and Jamie would be with her to celebrate tonight. She bounced into the hotel gym and saw Jamie sitting on a bench, red-faced and sweating. A long bar was racked behind him with three large weights at both ends. Impressive, she thought, as she walked to him. He carefully kissed her cheek trying to avoid sweating all over her.

“Ah, my Sassenach, what is your goal with this workout?”

“I want to do at least five pull-ups, underhanded and over-handed, without effort please.”

Jamie walked around her and listed the muscle groups she needed to work, touching each while he circled her.

“You need specific strength building for biceps, triceps, pectorals, deltoids, trapezius, Rhomboideus major, and teres major. Are you joining the circus Sassenach?”

“Certainly not, but I carry heavy canvases that are getting more difficult to manage and it’s required to be a decent cat burglar.” She gave her best ‘I am a professor smile’ and giggled.

“Uncle” was muttered after an hour and she clung to Jamie. He walked her back to her room and gently massaged her tired muscles. He could feel them shaking under the skin and hoped he hadn’t pushed her too hard.

“You need to soak in a tub of hot water mo chridhe. I will watch the game and guard you. Okay?”

Jamie was asleep when she got out of the tub. He looked like a handsome angel, so serene in his rest. He was relaxed, unguarded, and he looked ten years younger. Something about Jamie made her feel hopeful and happy for some reason. She tried to imagine going back to Chicago, getting Frank out of her life, starting another semester, and the big decision about stealing art. That was the reality of her life, and this week was a sweet tryst with an incredible man, and that was all.

“Sassenach, come lass.”

He held his hand out to her and pulled her to him so he could make her forget whatever made her look so sad.

In late afternoon, Claire straightened her hair and lined her eyes putting two coats of mascara on her lashes, powder on her cheeks that shimmered, and red lipstick. She wore a silver sparkling wrap-around dress and thigh-high boots that stopped an inch from the hem. When she opened the door for Jamie, she was shocked. He wore a dark blue suit, white shirt and a paisley blue tie. He looked scrubbed with his hair slicked back. His eyes looked like blue diamonds.

“Wow, you clean up nicely,” she said wrapping her arms around him.

He had a gorgeous bottle of Italian Merlot in a gift box for Javier and Claire was very impressed. Rubbing her lipstick on a tissue she reached for him and kissed until his toes curled. He looked closely at her face and hair and she knew he loved the way she looked. What a fine way to start the evening, she thought.

Javier opened the door to greet them and was quite happy about the snow falling outside. He shook Jamie’s hand with a warm smile and kissed Claire’s cheeks. They were brought into the dining room of the restaurant where a huge table was set with finery. Javier made the introductions and Jamie sat down next to the host while Claire made her way around the table, hugging and kissing the people in Javier’s inner circle. When she came back to Jamie he was in a lively conversation with Javier and another man about the European football leagues. The men were laughing and Javier told the other man in French, “this kid knows his football.” Jamie thanked him in French making them all laugh.

Course after course was placed in front of Claire. Soup, salad, a sumptuous duck and roasted vegetables, followed by coffee, and a delightful chocolate mousse with fresh whipped cream. Claire would take two or three bites of each in order to finish the meal. Jamie ate every bite with a smile on his face and Javier almost cried. She watched Jamie engage any conversation that was offered, with the appropriate grace, humor, or sympathy. She was so grateful he came. When he was bantering with another guest, Claire watched is face until he turned his head and smiled at her. She could feel the blush spread across her cheeks as she quickly looked away. Two old women snickered to each other and talked behind their napkins.

Jamie shook hands with Javier who handed him a business card and asked him to call when he was in town. The blush on Jamie’s cheeks showed how much he appreciated the gesture. They piled into the back of the Rolls Royce and Joseph took them back to the hotel. He watched them kissing and was happy they were going to separate ends of the earth tomorrow. He could see no good coming from this relationship.

Joseph hugged Claire and when she turned around his smile disappeared and the look he gave Jamie made his blood run cold. The older man got behind the wheel and drove away without a backward glance. Jamie wasn’t sure what to make of that but he looked up and saw his pretty girl beckoning him out of the snow.

“Merry Christmas Jamie.”

“Merry Christmas Sassenach. Come here.”

At three in the morning, Claire’s cell phone started ringing and didn’t stop. Jamie whispered that her phone was ringing and it could be an emergency of some kind. Claire sat up and grabbed her phone, suddenly afraid that something bad had happened.

“Hello!”

“Claire darling you come home tomorrow right? Yes, well I am making sure because it’s Christmas and you have been gone.”

“Frank why are you calling me in the middle of the night you scared the shit out of me!”

“If I wasn’t so drunk I would think you were yelling at me. That’s ridiculous because I’m a fuckin Senator and you are a measly teacher. Now listen Claire, this is your last trip to wherever, from now on you are here or at the school. Got that?”

Frank was so drunk she could hardly understand him, and she was getting mad. “Now tell me how to unlock your computer.”

“Why are you in my house, Frank?”

“Why not.”

She heard a loud bang, the sound of glass breaking, and Frank in the background yelling profanities.

“You fucking computer!”

Claire clicked off and ran to her laptop to look up the police precinct closest to her. She gave a report that her ex-boyfriend broke into her apartment and was destroying everything. She explained she was in Paris and told them his name.

“His name is Frank Randall.”

“Is it spelled like the Senator Frank Randall?”

“It is Senator Frank Randall.”

The cop who was taking the report smiled to himself. Senator Randall had voted to defund the Chicago police and they hated him for being a ball-less politician parrot. He wouldn’t enjoy his time with them tonight.

Claire was fuming and slipped her nightgown over her head, filling a glass with bottled water.

“What can I do to help Claire?”

“Nothing Jamie, I’m fine, I’m just going to wait for the police to call. Go back to sleep.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“No, honestly, it’s taken care of. A rather unpleasant episode with my soon to be ex.”

Jamie could not believe she was shutting him out of this incident with Frank like he didn’t matter and had no business in her real world. He was being respectful when he didn’t ask her about after they leave Paris or maybe he just didn’t want to know.

“Claire, were you going to call me when you go back to Chicago?”

“What?”

He could see it in her eyes, confusion about a question that seemed so simple to him. She never planned to see him again, or even call. He was nothing to her. He dressed quickly and left her room. He couldn’t think of anything to say to her so he said nothing. He went to his room and changed into jeans for a long walk through the city while he worked this out in his head.

Claire couldn’t stop crying as she watched him out her window. He walked away hunched into his coat against the cold. She sobbed, realizing she had lost herself in the arms and charm of Jamie Fraser. She never told him she would call, she never said she had feelings for him. She would never forget his face as he figured out what this week was to her. She laid on his pillow with his wonderful smell and cried herself to sleep.

In the morning, Claire called Jamie’s room, and looked for him in the dining room and gym. She asked at the front desk and was told he checked out. It felt like an emotional bomb going off inside her and she struggled to get to her room before falling apart. She looked at his name in her contacts and wrote him a text about how sorry she was, then deleted it. She was dreadfully sorry she hurt him but knew all along they would go separate ways. She didn’t think it would feel so bad.

Claire boarded her plane with puffy red eyes and a pounding headache. About every ten minutes she felt the tears start again and finally ordered whisky so she could sleep. Her life stretched out before her and never seemed so bleak. Jamie Fraser showed her a fresh new day where anything was possible, and he held her like a precious treasure. Now she was going back to her life in a dirty, crime-ridden city, with a drunk Frank telling her what to do, and she could not find a ray of light in all that. She raised her hand for another whisky.

Claire walked toward the baggage claim and could hardly put one foot in front of the other. Geillis hugged her gushing questions about Paris and going on about her new man. The doorman at her building helped carry her suitcases to the elevator asking if she needed help to her apartment. She tipped him and said she would be fine. Her key slid into her door lock and she bent to take the first case inside. A large fist came out of nowhere and cold-cocked her. The assailant left her on the floor with her door open and suitcases in the hall. She was unconscious.

Jamie walked through Paris for hours, but the decorations and lights were not noticed this time. His brain crunched the facts that were heartily ignored for the last four days realizing he believed what he wanted. She was an enigma with an enchanting personality that drew him to her, she was mysterious because she shared little about who she was inside. He didn’t believe she wanted to hurt him, but it hurt nonetheless.

Jamie flew back to Scotland pounding whisky and sleeping to avoid thinking about the Sassenach. He retrieved his car and drove the country roads to Lallybroch, feeling better with each passing minute. He would hurt and miss her, but he truly hoped to forget her in time.

Claire’s face was swelling badly when the paramedics arrived, she was asking for Jamie, completely disoriented. When she saw only strangers around her, she started to cry like her soul was dying. The EMT’s brought her suitcases into the apartment and tested her for a concussion, asking her to come to the hospital but she refused. When they left, she turned in a circle and saw destruction everywhere. The glass-top computer desk was shattered on the floor, cables yanked out, monitor smashed, furniture was in pieces, and the kitchen floor was inches deep with shattered glass, crystal, and dishes.

Two officers were lifting prints in the bedroom and walked out to see a young woman looking as shattered as the apartment. They knew this was done by someone she knew, this was personal and laced with violent hatred. Both were afraid for her and asked where they could take her for the night.

Claire looked up at the officers taking a moment to understand the question. She shook her head and opened the door for them. Other than have a cruiser drive by her building during the night, there was little they could do without her cooperation. They left reluctantly, both fearing he would come again, this time for her life.

Claire recognized she was in shock. All she could see was Jamie’s face, at dinner when he smiled at her, sleepy and hugging her, laughing at her banter, and crumbling from the truth. If there was whisky and a remaining chair she would have stayed right there, but there wasn’t. She took her suitcase and left to stay in a hotel where she sat in the darkness staring at nothing until Paris woke up.

Javier listened to his goddaughter cry and explain being knocked out and the destruction of everything she owned, even her clothes had a knife taken to them. Javier took the call in his office and accepted a glass of water and a baby aspirin from Joseph who recognized a dangerous tone of voice in his employer, and lifelong friend. Joseph closed his door so Javier would not be disturbed and took a position nearby to stop anyone from knocking. Javier called his name, and Joseph, not liking where the dominoes were falling, prepared for the worst.

“The bear is in trouble, he’s going to kill her!” Javier ranted the story out as Joseph felt the magma rising in his soul. They knew she might go to jail someday until they could get her out, but being struck and terrorized by that perverted piece of shit had Joseph on the edge of reason. Javier was packing up his briefcase and told Joseph to get packed, they were going to Chicago.

Claire clicked off her phone and sat still. She had not stood up since coming to this room in the middle of the night. She dialed Frank.

“Hello darling, Merry Christmas! What time will you be ready for dinner?”

“Come anytime, Frank.” She disconnected.

She had not intended to confront him, but he would have to start pretending, shock, concern, anger, protectiveness, all the emotions a real fiancé would have when he stumbles into her wrecked apartment. She expected her phone to start ringing in about twenty minutes.

“Hello Frank, did you get a good look at the mess you made last night. Shut your mouth or I will..” He kept sputtering a string of words and talking louder. She clicked off and waited. This happened three more times before he remained quiet on the phone so she could talk.

“If you want to stay alive to pursue whatever it is you’re pursuing you only have one rule, never speak to me or see me again for as long as you live. Even if you see me by accident…bye-bye baby. I’m not the meek teacher you think I am, and you have fucked with the wrong person. Don’t believe me? Try it Frank, and I’ll be more than happy to order your life extinguished.”

Claire felt some weird kind of closure with that and stumbled to the bed where she passed out from exhaustion. She dreamed of Jamie whispering in her ear and felt the happiness bubble up inside her. The ringing of her cell phone pulled her out of sleep. She didn’t know where she was or how long she slept and Javier’s worried voice on the phone was asking where she was. Her face hurt so badly she couldn’t remember the name of the hotel until she looked at the branding all around her.

Javier almost fainted when he saw Claire’s face. He was no stranger to violence, but the Bear’s face was beyond recognition, black and swollen with one eye puffy and closed. He hugged her gingerly and walked her to the bed. Claire was telling him she was fine, but she was very much not fine. Joseph had turned away from her to hide his tears and get control of himself. Javier handed her a pill and a glass of water. Once she was asleep, Joseph stayed in the room and Javier went looking for a new residence for her. He was gone all day and she slept peacefully.

Joseph looked down at her, deep in sleep. He saw the fifteen-year-old, fresh from the jungle, quiet and self-protective, completely vulnerable. He remembered her locked in the bathroom for hours, showering, flushing the toilet, showering again. Her fingers were puckered for the first several weeks from so much washing. Joseph and Javier bent over backwards to make her welcome and finally, after two weeks, she smiled, and then laughed at something said and Joseph thought his heart would explode with happiness. They were devoted to her happiness, and when she grew up, she returned their kindness by becoming the most extraordinary woman. Now here she was, beaten and broken. He took a deep breath and went back to his seat to pull himself together.

Javier arranged for a medical doctor to examine Claire at the hotel because she refused to leave the room. He gave her antibiotics and pain medication and ordered rest for a week as the swelling came down in her face. He was happy to say her eye was not damaged, and her sight would clear up in time. Claire took the medicine as directed and slept like the dead. Javier would go out each day making arrangements for her apartment and filling it with furniture, dishes, crystal, flat wear, pots and pans, linens, towels, shower gels, shampoo, even some makeup. He had impeccable taste, but he was not a thirty-year-old female in Chicago, so he hired a decorator to make the selections. All of it was the best quality money could buy and Javier was in heaven to be spoiling his Bear.

Claire had put the brakes on Javier’s extravagance at age eighteen. She allowed him to finance school and a simple wardrobe and saved her money for anything else she wanted. Joseph would drive her to her job each afternoon at a nearby printer. She sat on plastic for the ride home because she was covered in ink smears and dirt from crawling into the machines. Javier would wince seeing her filthy and exhausted but could never convince her to quit.

Everything changed for Claire when she was hired by Christie’s auction house to be a runner during auctions. Every other day she assisted the appraiser, the decorator, or anyone else that needed help. She was exposed to the great artists of the Renaissance, Baroque, Rococo , Neoclassicism, and Romanticism periods and she was hooked. During dinner one evening, she laid out her plan; what schools she would attend, what graduate school she would choose for her PHD, and her choice of career, teaching fine art at a respected University. She apologized for not knowing which University yet and Joseph shot a few peas across the table before he could raise the napkin to his mouth. The original plan never wavered, she did exactly what she said she would do.

After two weeks of rest, Javier checked them all out of the hotel and brought Claire to her new home, a high security, luxury apartment overlooking Lake Michigan. It was extravagant and huge, filled with high-end furniture and decorations. Claire found beautiful crystal stemware, glasses, mugs, plates and everything in between. Her closet was filled with basic clothing, drawers filled with undergarments, sweaters, belts and socks. She pressed her fingers against her mouth and couldn’t stop the tears that were rolling down her cheeks. She hugged her godfather, and then Joseph, shaking with emotion, so grateful for all their help.

Claire utilized the gourmet kitchen to cook an American favorite for Javier and Joseph, filet mignon, lobster tail with butter for dipping, baked potato and herb-roasted carrots. Javier hovered in case she needed help and Joseph laughed and told him to sit down and enjoy the sun setting on the Chicago skyline. Javier planned to rave over this simple, no sauce meal until the beef melted in his mouth and the lobster exploded with flavor. He lost himself in the unusual and primitive meal and Claire mentally high-fived herself. The meal was symbolic. She was a grownup who could manage life on her own, thanks to their help.

Claire hugged them goodbye at the elevator and promised to visit at Christmas next year. When the elevator doors closed, she took her first steps in independence, free of Frank, free to pursue her career, free to choose her every next step. The only thing still missing was color. The apartment building was opulent and surely full of beautiful colors, but she only saw shades of gray in the objects she passed.

Geillis made arrangements for Claire’s senior graduate student to start her classes when the new semester started. The administration was told her face was heeling after a car accident and they were too happy to help. The first day she walked into her lecture hall there was only sympathy on the faces watching her. She was grateful and soon her love of teaching took over and life returned to normal, albeit colorless.

[drinkthepoisonedchalice]

Sacrifice

This ficlet was written in response to @writethisacc on twitter’s Halloween prompt “sacrifice”

    Jimin had to admit, he rather liked Jeongguk’s habit of suddenly appearing in his bed. Usually he would show up when Jimin was lazing about in his mountain of pillows, hands immediately seeking skin, rousing Jimin from his doze and demanding his attention. Jimin wasn’t in his bed this time though, but rather was sat at his vanity applying a deep purple smokey eye when Jeongguk popped into existence, fully dressed for once in his preferred style of black leather and clunky boots, perched on the edge of Jimin's bed.

    “We should go get some coffee,” the demon said by way of greeting. 

    Jimin spared him a glance over his shoulder before reaching for his glitter pallet. “Why, are you tired? What am I saying? You don’t sleep.” Jeongguk met his eyes in the mirror of his vanity, dark and black and bottomless. “I don’t think we have time. The party starts in half an hour. I can make you a cup before we leave.” 

    “You should be careful about the things you give demons. Even an offering like a cup of coffee could be used to tie you to them for life.”

    Jimin snorted. “I gave you a blowjob last night, does that mean I’m eternally bound to you now?”

    Jeongguk looked away, a hint of tongue poking through his cheek as his eyebrows furrowed. “You know I’d bind you to me the moment you let me.”

    Jimin sighed as he stood up. Jeongguk always got fussy like this even though he was the one who persistently brought the topic up. “Sorry, Jeonggukie,” Jimin said as he made his way to stand between the other man’s knees, one hand reaching out to brush one of his curly black locks out of his face, “I much prefer having you show up in my bed to spending the rest of my life as your acolyte running all of your hellish errands.”

    Jeongguk’s hands easily found Jimin’s hips. “Just because you’re my acolyte doesn’t mean I can’t take you to bed,” he growled as he pulled Jimin into his lap. Jimin went willingly, graciously accepting the burning kiss Jeongguk pressed to his lips. “Think of the power, Mimi,” Jeongguk said as his hands wandered down to Jimin’s thighs, squeezing the supple flesh hidden under Jimin’s slacks. “No more hiding in your sister’s shadow. I thought you wanted powers of your very own.”

    Jimin hummed as Jeongguk detoured to press kisses against his jaw, down his neck. “I do. You know I do. I’m just not sure if I want them at the cost of dedicating my short mortal life to being your servant.”

    Jeongguk licked at the base of his neck and Jimin shivered all the way down to his toes. “But you don’t have to be mortal. If I make you mine I get to dictate when you die.”

    Jimin raised an unimpressed eyebrow, but Jeongguk was too busy nosing at his collar to see. “So I get to live until you get bored with me?”

    Finally Jeongguk looked up at him, eyes as black and fathomless as night. “Who said I would get bored of you?”

    Jimin swallowed. It took all of his effort to push at Jeongguk’s shoulders, feet returning to the floor. “Either way, there’s still more I need to learn before I can leave my coven.”

    Jeongguk slouched back against the bed as Jimin returned to his vanity, only holding himself up with his elbows. “How much can you really learn without powers of your own?”

    Jimin shot him a scathing glance in the mirror as he reached for his mascara. “Enough to be able to summon a demon, that’s for sure. Besides, you know my potions need work.”

    Jeongguk sighed and flopped onto his back. “I can teach you potions. You just like to be difficult.” 

    “Or maybe I’m just not ready to leave my coven yet,” Jimin shot back, and even though he couldn’t see it he could practically feel Jeongguk rolling his eyes. 

    “Why are you even dragging me to this party again?”

    Jimin capped his mascara with a smile. “It’s called irony, darling.”

    Jungkook sighed as he pulled one of Jimin’s pillows closer to cradle it against his chest. “I call it boring. It’s Halloween. Let’s go to a haunted house.”

    Now it was Jimin’s turn to roll his eyes as he lightly ran his highlight brush across his cheekbones. “Come on, Jeonggukie. You know tonight is more than just that. Witches have always performed a sacrifice on Samhain. Besides, tonight's party is literally about you. You can’t tell me you’ve never wanted to go to one of these things.”

    “Yeah, I’ve always wanted to see you guys sit in a circle and chant for an hour. Prime time entertainment right here, folks.”

    “You’re such a brat,” Jimin hissed as he snapped his highlight container closed. “Look, we’ll go to my aunt’s house and eat and drink for a few hours, then we’ll cut open a goat and say a few spells and be home in time for me to choke on your dick for twenty minutes before I go to bed.” 

    “Twenty minutes,” Jeongguk scoffed.

    Jimin pouted at his reflection in the mirror. “You know my jaw starts to hurt after too long.”

    Jimin blinked and Jeongguk was leaning over him, hands braced against the vanity desk as he loomed over Jimin, nose trailing down the witch’s cheek. “Then I guess I’ll just have to-”

    Jimin’s bedroom door opened. Jimin turned his head to see his mother standing in the doorway. He didn’t have to look back at the mirror to know that Jeongguk was gone. 

    “Your sister and I are getting ready to leave,” Jimin’s mother said. She looked stunning in her long black dress, the silken fabric hugging her curves, her lips as red as sin. The silver crucifixes hanging from her ears and around her neck matched Jimin’s own. “Will you be riding with us?”

    Jimin shook his head. “No, I’ll be meeting you there.”

    From the twist of his mother’s lips he could tell that she didn’t approve, but she simply shrugged it off. “Don’t be too late.”

    “I won’t,” Jimin promised as the door closed and Jeongguk was back again, his face buried in Jimin’s neck. 

    “Don’t tell me you were expecting to take the bike,” Jeongguk said, muffled into Jimin’s skin.

    “Are you kidding me?” Jimin pushed the demon back so he could stand. “Of course we’re taking the bike.”

    Jimin nearly salivated every time he saw Jeongguk’s Harley. It was sleek and black and sexy and Jimin practically purred along with the engine every time he got to ride it hanging on to Jeongguk’s back. After his mother and sister had left they strolled out to where the bike was conveniently located at the end of their driveway. 

    “So where are we headed tonight?” Jeongguk asked as he threw a leg over the bike, settling comfortably into the leather seat.

    “My aunt Yeojin’s house. She’s the one the sacrifice is for, so she has to host.” Jimin mounted the bike behind Jeongguk, pressing up tight against the demon’s back. Jeongguk didn’t own helmets, which Jimin would have thought was reckless if it wasn’t for what Jeongguk was. 

    “And what is the old witch asking for tonight?” Jeongguk asked as he brought the bike to life underneath them.

    “She wants an heir.” Jimin wound his arms around Jeongguk’s waist and held on tight. “She’s nearly at the age where she won’t be able to have children anymore, and none of her attempts to conceive have turned up. The coven decided that she was old enough to justify asking a demon for help.” 

    Jeongguk looked back at Jimin over his shoulder, his brow furrowed and lips drawn. “Asking for a baby, that’s...that’s a big spell.”

    Jimin just smiled up at him and snuggled closer. “Maybe that’s why they’re asking such a powerful demon.” 

    Jeongguk just shook his head and turned them out of the parking lot. 

    Months ago, Jimin had summoned Jeongguk just to see if he could. He’d believed that he couldn’t, of course, not possessing powers like his mother and sister did, so when Jeongguk had shown up in the middle of the pentagram in Jimin’s basement he'd had no idea what he was actually planning to ask for. Not having thought he would actually get that far, when Jeongguk had asked him what he wanted Jimin had shrugged his shoulders and said, “to get laid, I guess.”

    Jeongguk had smiled and then promptly bent Jimin over the altar and fucked him stupid. Jimin wasn’t really sure why Jeongguk kept coming back after that, but he’d also learned not to question good sex. If sometimes, between rounds, he and Jeongguk let slip bits and pieces about themselves then that was fine too. It was about two months into their arrangement that Jeongguk had pulled himself out of Jimin’s bed after an hour of edging him until he cried, thrown Jimin’s pants at him and told him they were going for coffee. The relationship had progressed from there, to the point where Jimin now had enough sway to drag Jeongguk with him to his aunt’s Halloween party. 

    They were a chatty bunch, his mother’s coven. Half of the night Jimin would be listening to his aunts prattle on about their daughters’ achievements, while the other half would be spent with said daughters on the back porch smoking herb and avoiding their mothers. Nonetheless, Jimin’s wine glass was never empty and his aunt Sowon’s pumpkin spice cake was to die for. Jeongguk behaved himself quite well too, letting the aunts gush over how handsome he was as Jimin took him on a turn about the room. It was his night after all, it only made sense for him to soak up praise from the women about to ask him for a baby. 

    The witching hour was close at hand when Jeongguk finally pulled him in with an arm around his waist and whispered into Jimin’s ear, “if I have to hear about little Hyunmi’s graduation ceremony one more time I’m going to set something on fire.”

    Jimin just patted the demon on the chest. If his count was right, and it probably wasn’t, he was about six glasses of wine into the night and feeling all the lighter for it. When he leaned close to murmur back into Jeongguk’s ear he kept bumping his nose into the other man’s cheek. “Come on, I’ll give you a little preview of tonight’s entertainment.” He then took Jeongguk by the hand and led him out of the main party room, toward the other, deserted end of the house where the door to the basement was located. 

    The ritual area had already been prepared ahead of time, before the party even started. The candles lining the room and adorning the altars had already burned halfway down the wax, the usually barren cement walls covered in deep purple drapery. The center of the room was hollowed out, three steps leading down to the space where they would hang a goat from the ceiling and collect its blood before the entire coven joined together to paint the witch receiving the gift in their sacrifice. Jimin assumed that tonight they would all be painting aunt Yeojin’s womb red. 

    Something was different about tonight’s sacrifice though. Jimin pulled Jeongguk along behind him by the hand as he approached the table set up in the middle of the basement. Where there should be a chain over his head and a bucket at his feet there was instead a table covered in purple silk. 

    “That’s weird,” Jimin said as he began picking at the items on the table, an amethyst encrusted goblet, a set of thick leather restraints. “I’ve never seen the basement like this before.”

    “I don’t think you’ll be sacrificing a goat tonight, Mimi,” Jeongguk said as his eyes roamed over the altars set up around the room. He stepped away to grab a bottle of wine resting among the chunks of amethyst and lavender incense and turned the label for Jimin to see. Jimin knew the vintage. It was aunt Yeojin’s favorite, a potent red that he had been drinking all night. The moment his glass was halfway empty one of his aunts had been filling it back up again. 

    Jimin ran his hand along the edge of the table, away from the goblet and the restraints and the cold silver dagger and towards the layers of purple fabric piled up at the end. He ran his hands across the soft fabric of the jacket, the silkiness of the button up shirt and the cummerbund. It was a suit, the same dark plum color as the rest of the decorations. It was his suit. His mother had bought it for him last month. 

    “No,” Jimin whispered, “they wouldn’t. They-”

    “Tell me, Mimi, as you dragged me here, did it truly never cross your mind that you might be the sacrifice?” 

    When Jimin looked over at Jeongguk the demon met him with calm, steady eyes, a complete contrast to how Jimin’s heart was now jackrabbiting in his chest. “Jeongguk, we need to-”

    The door to the basement opened. Jimin looked up to find his mother standing at the top of the stairs. He didn’t have to look back to know that Jeongguk was gone, he could feel it in the way his chest was caving in on itself, the way he struggled just to breathe. 

    His mother showed her surprise at his presence for just a moment, quickly slipping back into an air of unbothered serenity. “Oh,” she said, “you’re already here. Well, no matter, I suppose we can go ahead and start.”

    “Mother, please,” Jimin took a step back, then another until his back hit the edge of the table, “you don’t have to-”

    With a wave of her fingers his mother’s spell hit him in the chest, and everything went dark.

    When Jimin came to he could feel a hand under his head lifting him up as the rim of a cup touched his lips. Jimin choked as warm liquid rushed into his mouth, his nose and throat burning as he tried to swallow the wine they were drowning him with. 

    “There you go, darling,” his aunt Yeojin said as she stood above him. She gently placed his head back on the table, brushing a few strands of hair out of his face. Jimin recognized the ceiling above him, the chain hanging from it. He tried to move his arms to sit up but they were held to his body by thick leather restraints. Of what he could see of himself he knew he had been dressed in purple fabric, the suit his mother had bought him. 

    His aunts were surrounding him, moving about as they finished their preparations. He had seen them do this a hundred times before as he stood at the edge of the room, shoulder to shoulder with his cousins. Now he was looking up at them, catching glimpses of their pale faces under the hood of their cloaks. None of them would look back at him, none except his mother, who stopped at the head of the table to calmly pet his hair. 

    “Mother,” Jimin whispered. His voice shook, his body trembled. “Why?”

    “Oh darling,” his mother cooed, “even you know that something cannot be created from nothing, and there is nothing equivalent to a human soul.”

    Jimin could feel a wetness dampening his eyelashes, and his mother quickly wiped it away before it could ruin his mascara. “But why me?”

    The smile his mother gave him was gentle, if condescending. “Because a witch’s powers can only be given to her daughters. What other purpose could you possibly serve besides this?”

    “It’s time,” aunt Yeojin said, and Jimin’s mother quickly left his side. 

Jimin knew how things would go from here. The witches, his coven, his aunts, joined hands around him. Incense of lavender and sage was thick in the air as they began their chant, invoking Jeongguk to hear them and bend to their will. 

Jeongguk was already here though. Jimin could see him standing just behind his aunts, watching as Jimin squirmed and cried and trembled on the table. Their eyes met, Jimin's desperate, Jeongguk's dark and deep and endless. 

"Jeonggukie," Jimin whimpered, "help me, please." 

Jeongguk just shook his head. "I can't. I can't enter a witch's circle." 

Jimin choked on a sob. 

"But," the demon said, "I can give you the powers you need to help yourself." 

Jimin's hands twisted in the purple silk beneath him. He could see the cold silver dagger in his aunts' hands, each giving it their blessing as it was passed around the circle. "I'll do anything, please," Jimin begged. 

Jeongguk's smile was indulgent, victorious. "You know what you need to do. Say the words." 

Jimin's breath hitched. The dagger was in his aunt Yeojin's hands now, receiving the final blessing. He looked into Jeongguk's eyes, willed the demon to pull him into those depths and keep him there. "I give myself to you. I'm yours. I'm all yours." 

Aunt Yeojin sunk the dagger into Jimin's chest. 

Jimin screamed. 

His chest was burning. His body was burning. The flames jumped from his skin and consumed everything in their path. The women around him screamed, and Jimin squeezed his eyes shut. 

When he opened them again Jeongguk was the only person left standing over him. The air was thick with smoke, and the back of Jimin’s mouth tasted like charred meat. He pushed himself up into a sitting position, no longer restrained by the leather bindings or even his suit. He touched a hand to his chest but there was no wound, no blood, just a scar that looked as if it had been there for years.

Jeongguk shrugged out of his leather jacket and draped the heavy material over Jimin’s shoulders. “Let’s go get some coffee.”

#jikook #kookmin #ficlet

[bigskydreaming]

So just out of curiosity, what inspired the whole Beacon Bay idea? What kind of sharks and dolphins are they? This entire thing is very intriguing to me and I can't wait to see more.

So first off, anyone who’s ever played soundingboard to my original stuff like Moukie or Adam can attest to the fact that I’m ocean obsessed, so there’s pretty much nothing I’m interested in that isn’t a mere two or three steps removed from an ocean/merfolk/sea witch AU in my head. Gimme anything and like, five minutes, and I can make it ocean themed. Space operas included. I grew up near the ocean, been surfing for ages though of course I haven’t in years, blah, but like. I’m a big fan of the deep blue sea. Its just....neat. ghaskfhalkfhla

So I’ve always had a bunch of ocean-set concepts. This particular AU came about from like, smashing a couple of them together to preserve them when my plans for doing original stuff with them fizzled out, at least for the time being. Cuz the other thing about me is the way some people like, take their fanfic and file off the serial numbers to turn it into original novels, I more often do the reverse, lmao. When I have something I can no longer do something with original-content-wise, for whatever reason, but I still like the idea, I turn it into fanfic so I can still play around with it whenever I want and like, have purpose to that, so I don’t feel like I’m wasting time by still ‘indulging’ in that concept or whatever.

Like my Batfandom fic By Lost Ways, as I’ve mentioned before....that actually started out as an original high fantasy novel set in my ‘Tales of the Citadel’ shared universe. BUT the setting ended up being similar enough to a sci-fi project I wanted I to move forward with, ‘Waveriders’ (the one with the sky pirates and the ATLA-style benders only instead of evoking the four classical elements, waveriders could each ‘hack’ a different kind of wavelength, that one) like....basically, the projects FELT similar enough in setting and various superficial elements that I started to feel derivative of myself moving forward with both, so I picked Waveriders and then recycled the setting and a lot of the plot of the sky-set fantasy novel for fanfic, just for fun.

Same thing here, though Beacon Bay is basically the mash-up of two different shelved original projects. Basically, its the plot of a CW-style show about teen sirens and the sea witch making like the Fagin to their Oliver Twists, from a pilot I wrote years ago.....it got some interest but I refused to make it less gay because lol have you met me, so it ultimately never went anywhere but I still liked the plot. 

And then remember the werewolf books I mentioned awhile back, that had the mongoose shifters in them? LOL. Yeah, so I’d written two and a half novels in that series and had this whole expansive worldbuilding of twelve different shifter clans each with their own innate magic, patron deity/creator, etc, but all my agent and editor contacts at the time were like yeah sorry, shifters are over for now, and I was like wow, can’t believe cancel culture’s real and publishing cancelled werewolves, wtf, rude, and then I was like eh, still wanna play in this universe especially with the dolphins and shark shifters which I never even really got to in those books, so I’m just gonna air-lift them out of that and drop them smack in the middle of my CW siren plot and fanfic away to my heart’s content and call that ‘being productive’ when I feel like it.

Anyway, found family was a big theme of those books and the world-building I did there in general, because again, have you met me, I’m not predictable or anything (shhh, the word is consistent), and one of my initial things there was I wanted the various shifter types to all have innate magic, because for literally no real reason that I can discern other than Whimsy, I have always been Team Werewolf in vampires vs werewolves, and I was tired of werewolves always being by default the underdogs in those narratives. Even if that does make for a good pun.

SO, I wanted to come up with werewolf magic that felt natural and organic to werewolves, like nothing too flashy or obscure, but that would make them a legitimate threat even to other supernatural creatures. And I made it so each of the shifter types were granted an active and a passive magic by the god that created their type of shifter, and with werewolves, their active magic was that of the pack gestalt. I took the idea of ‘their whole is greater than the sum of their parts’ that TW kinda briefly touched on when presenting (but never really doing much with) the idea that the more wolves in a pack, the stronger that pack was.....and I decided okay what if being part of a pack upped stats all across the board AND all shifters have a SLIGHT innate resistance to magic, being innately magical beings themselves? 

So a werewolf pack, with enough pack members, would thus not only be formidable in strength, speed, senses and speed of healing....but compound that innate shifter resistance to magic, which in a single shifter is negligible, like, just enough to make them slightly harder to track with magic or curse or whatever.....but in a whole werewolf pack, that adds up to make the pack effectively immune to foreign magic. Vampires can’t compel them, demons can’t possess them, witches can’t curse them, etc. So a lone werewolf, not part of a pack, is formidable, but nothing another supernatural being can’t take on. But a lone werewolf who IS part of a pack....different story entirely, because now most other supernatural beings, no matter what their USUAL strengths, are reduced to taking on that werewolf hand to hand, as their own supernatural gifts or spells or whatever, like, aren’t gonna do them any good against these particular foes. And werewolves are USED to fighting with just brute physical strength and attributes, which gives them the edge against opponents who are more used to being able to fall back on magic in battle.

But as much as I like sticking to a theme, I like to diversify that theme where possible, so when it came to the other shifter types, I wanted to similarly come up with ways where ‘the whole would be greater than the sum of their parts’ but in like, entirely different ways.

So with dolphin shifters, their ‘passive magic’ (in quotes cuz that’s not quite the right word for it but whatever) is that they’re all empaths, with their more active magic being weather manipulation. Their empathy is a two-way street....they project emotions as well as just feel other peoples’, which ties into the fact that their patron deity was Dionysus. Dolphin parties....legendary. But in an extremely wild, dangerous and Bacchanalian kinda way. In terms of Beacon Bay specifically, this is a bit of a problem for the BB dolphins, as the closest thing they had to an official Triton (the dolphin shifter version of an Alpha) was Peter, but they were like nope, not loving this guy, and kinda drove him out of town in the AU S1 backstory of this ‘verse, which means Scott and the others are kinda just making it up as they go along, and don’t really know the ins and outs of BEING dolphin shifters. (Derek is....elsewhere, in this. Mostly). 

So bottom line is they have reputations around school for being loud obnoxious goofs and trouble-makers, constantly playing hooky and such, but its because they don’t really know HOW to safeguard against spilling their emotions onto everyone around them so they try and err on the side of being the life of the party whenever possible, as that’s better than the alternatives in their opinion. And when they’re just having bad days and bumming hard, the whole pod will just skip school and glomp around the bumming pod member whilst self-caring, rather than like, accidentally bum out the entire school.

But their weather manipulation magic is where the gestalt idea comes into play with them, as I love weather manipulating powers, but I didn’t want to make them all Ororo Munroe, y’know? Only Ororo Munroe can be Ororo Munroe. Don’t make me scoff. I’ll do it. I’ll scoff so hard. SO I went with the idea of weather control married to manipulating storms via song and was like, okay what if a dolphin pod is like, a symphony of shifters. 

Basically, its like each individual dolphin shifter is a single voice in a chorus, and there’s magical equivalents of being a baritone, an alto, etc. Like, none of them can whip up a storm on their own. Its more that each of them can summon or conjure a PIECE of a storm with their song, with it being different for each of them....symptomatic of their magic as an expression of them as an individual. So for instance, Scott’s song is ‘tuned’ to lightning. He can call down a bolt of lightning from a clear blue sky.....but he can’t summon so much as a drop of rain to save his life. Literally. Its an actual plot point at one point. Whereas Isaac’s song is all about calling down rain, Boyd’s is more of an arctic wind, and Erica’s kinda summons a pressure front that in harmony with the two of theirs can whip up a mean waterspout. And then Corey’s all about conjuring fog banks with low visibility while Liam can whistle up a strong, gale-force wind but sucks at using his song as a precision instrument. Etc, etc. But the real magic is when they all use their voices and magic in concert....as a group, they can summon huge magical thunderstorms.

Also, one thing I love about using different kinds of shifters is the opportunity to explore enhanced supernatural senses that aren’t just keen sight, smell or hearing. So the dolphin shifters aren’t like wolf shifters in being able to detect chemosignals or anything like that....in fact, their sense of smell isn’t much different from anyone else’s. But they do have an ability to use what’s effectively supernatural echolocation even above water, and their sight is adapted for optimal viewing underwater, making them particularly good at seeing in the darkness even on land. 

(Also, related but somewhat tangential to both the shifter senses and dolphin ‘voices’....all dolphin shifters have a strong talent for mimicry, but this isn’t technically a form of magic, more just a combination of their control over their voice and their keen senses of pitch, etc).

The shark shifters, on the other hand, have some of the keenest senses of all shifters. Not only is their sense of smell even better than a werewolf’s, they’re sensitive to changes in pressure, for one thing. Which means on land, they can even feel changes in atmospheric pressure.....so like, the shark shifters of Beacon Bay could be in math class and then ‘feel’ a sudden drop in air pressure and thus even before some strange weather phenomenon occurs, they’re groaning like ugh fucking A, what the hell did the damn dolphins do now.

Also, their magnetic field perception is such that they can kinda ‘sense’ when people are around, just by being aware of the approaching magnetic field of another living being.

And then with the sharks, I was looking for ways to lean into the associations we have with sharks and blood, but subvert them to be less macabre and more communal. And another big theme of mine in general is like, I am DETERMINED to go to my grave shouting at the top of my lungs “Its THE BLOOD OF THE COVENANT IS THICKER THAN THE WATER OF THE WOMB, NOT BLOOD IS THICKER THAN WATER, HOW DID PEOPLE GET THAT SO BACKWARDS ITS SUPPOSED TO BE THE EXACT OPPOSITE OF HOW ITS USUALLY STATED!”

Like, that’s just...HUGE pet peeve of mine. Its like nails on a chalkboard, lmfao, that drives me nuts. That phrase is usually cited by people using it to express like, the idea that there’s no greater force than family, specifically BIOLOGICAL, ‘blood’ relations, but its literally meant to be the exact opposite, that the blood of CHOSEN bonds, of covenants, of vows or promises, is a greater force than the water of the womb, ie being born of the same womb, as in biological siblings. The entire point of the phrase is biology ain’t shit, family is what we choose. And somehow it got turned ENTIRELY around.

(Note: Okay, so for the record, its not ‘somehow’, there’s actually a very clear reason for why that particular interpretation gained so much momentum, and that’s because for a long time it was conflated with an old German proverb from like a thousand years ago that basically translates to “kin-blood is not spoiled by water.” Which basically was meant to mean that nothing can ‘dilute’ blood relations, not time, not distance, not water. So that phrase DOES correspond to the idea that ‘blood is thicker than water.’ Problem is, there isn’t a direct trace from that particular proverb TO most USAGES of ‘blood is thicker than water,’ which when you throw in the OTHER phrase, which in its entirety is “the blood of the covenant is thicker than the water of the womb,” what you end up with is a lot of people SAYING that one when they actually MEAN to say ‘kin-blood is not spoiled by water’ and that’s where the meanings get switched. But I fucking digress. Per usual).

Anyway. So combine that particular pet peeve with my found family fixation AND the fact that this is about magic and magic means I can do whatever the hell I want, fuck your biological connections mwahahaha.....I decided to base shark magic on the idea of the blood-ties of family....but CHOSEN blood-ties, as in blood of the covenant ties.

What I mean is okay, so it first of all just made sense to me to have shark shifter communities be heavily focused around adoption, because like....let’s be real, shark shifters going around biting people to change them into shifters, and then people magically healing from....shark bites....was going to attract a lot more attention than people turning after being attacked by other types of shifters. Not to mention the fact that not only are shark attacks always big news, part of why they’re big news is because they’re actually pretty rare.

So, shark shifter communities were never really gonna propagate via lots of random shark shifter attacks turning people. So the way they DO expand and grow is by, well, family. Both biological AND adoption...as well as of course shark shifter communities taking in people who ARE attacked by rogue shark shifters, when that does happen. 

But bottom line is, there’s an additional element in play in shark shifter communities, beyond just the gene pool....and that’s like, a magical tidepool of talents, let’s call it. Because I do love me some alliteration. But also tidepool of talents is just a cool phrase, IMO.

Anyway, the main part of shark shifter magic, and how THEIR whole is greater than the sum of their parts, is that any shark shifter can draw upon or channel the talents, skillsets or knowledge of anyone else in their communal family. And whenever that family gets added to, the talents, skillsets and knowledge of the new addition gets added to the pot, so to speak. So shark shifters are kinda all like Rogue, if Rogue’s focus was less on the superpowers of other people and more on things like Beast’s scientific knowledge, Cyclops’ strategic skills or Cable’s weapons expertise.

And then their ‘passive magic’ is a form of psychometry whenever they come into contact with blood. By touching even just a drop of someone’s blood, they can get a vision of how that blood was spilled or even get a sense of where the person who spilled it is now.

As to the types of sharks and dolphins they all are, for that I went with the thing about the shape you take reflects the person you are.....all the shifters here are full shifters, and there’s no genetic component to their shifting, its purely magical, so like....just because Peter turned the various dolphins of BB doesn’t mean they all turn into the same kind of dolphin he was. In fact, I don’t even know what kind of dolphin he was on account of I don’t really care tbh, lol. Whereas Erica’s an Atlantic spotted dolphin, Liam’s a pygmy killer whale which looks like an orca just tiny in comparison and is actually a dolphin, and I found that combination of factors hilarious, etc, etc.

Same thing with the shark shifters. Even among biological relations, there’s a ton of variety of shark types. Like the twins aren’t even the same type...Ethan’s a blue shark and Aiden’s a bull shark, Tracy’s a tiger shark and Hayden’s an angel shark. Danny’s actually a throwback to an unnamed prehistoric shark, not Megalodon big but big enough to shut up Jackson when he goes on about being a great white shark. Shark and crocodile shifters are the two oldest shifter clans, old enough that literal dinosaurs fall under the umbrella of their shifter type, and thus occasionally show up even in modern generations.

[penzyroamin]

javid w/ enchanted or long live 🥺🥺🥺

olive... long live is in my top ten songs of all time.

BUT ENCHANTED IS IN MY TOP THREE SO WE’RE GOING WITH THAT!!!

this’ll be up on ao3 in a hot sec but y’all get it first! this is just. sweet first meetings and dumb flirty nonsense

warnings for some mentions of drinking and a mentioned hookup

this night is sparkling-- on ao3

It is the twenty-first birthday of one Katherine Plumber, and as such, half of Manhattan is hammered.

Jack, himself, is lingering in a pleasant tipsy state, just enough to make everyone around him look a little hotter but not enough to make him think he should make a move on any of them.

He is at, possibly, the most spectacular party he's ever seen-- fountains of champagne, fondue, and chocolate, a live band, three different bars, and a massive sculpture of Dolly Parton. All around him are socialites, fancy reporters, and his own brand of hooligan.

Katherine, the woman of the hour, is clearly wasted, licking salt off of Rafaela's wrist and trying to keep her fake eyelashes on.

If he needed, he could easily head out. Nobody would notice him being missing, after all, and he hasn't got much to stay for besides the free drinks and the bass thrumming through the floor.

But he's staying. He's still standing there amidst a mob of gyrating, Jaeger-slamming twenty-somethings, for some reason unknown even to him.

(He's staying for the hot guy by the Dolly statue. For him and him only.)

He maneuvers through the crowd to a table, keeping an eye on Mystery Guy the whole time, and picks up a china plate seemingly encrusted in gold. On it, he loads three cupcakes, a handful of Rich People Potato Chips, and a cookie, then scolds himself momentarily for falling into his pattern.

His pattern being, of course: go to glamorous party, see a gorgeous stranger, stress eat and prove himself entirely unalluring, leave the party alone.

Dodging a drunk political scientist, he succumbs to his fate and unwraps the first cupcake. He looks up and-- his mystery hot guy is gone.

Not his mystery hot guy. He has no claim to him. But Jack's totally stared at him for an hour and a half, he should have dibs.

"Hi."

Jack makes an undignified noise into his cupcake and spins on his heel. Ah. There's his hot guy.

Again, not his.

But he's standing right there, trying to talk to Jack, so maybe he's on to something here.

"Hey," he says, trying to make a plate of cupcakes seem less odd.

His hot guy smiles. "I'm Davey."

"Jack. You Katherine's friend?"

"Yeah, from college. Are you?"

"Yup. Been stuck with her since middle school."

That makes his hot guy-- Davey-- smile wider. He's got a nice smile, with one slightly crooked bottom tooth and sparkly gloss on his lips.

Jack offers up one of his cupcakes, and Davey takes it, removing the bottom half so he can make a cupcake sandwich.

"You're gay, aren't you?" Jack asks, and almost immediately regrets it when Davey quirks up one eyebrow.

"Yes…" 

Jack points at the cupcake sandwich. "That's just. Only the gays are smart enough."

Davey nods slowly, his brows furrowing. Jack is ninety-nine percent sure that this hot guy, who is gay, now thinks hes an awkward frat boy-ish ally.

"I am, too. Gay, that is. Not very smart."

The confusion vanishes from Davey's face, and he laughs. "Okay, then." He finishes off the cupcake and sticks the folded-up wrapper in his back pocket, then holds out a hand. "You wanna dance?"

Jack isn't sure what he does with his plate. It's either shattered somewhere or in the possession of a stoner. All he remembers is nodding and taking Davey's hand.

"I will warn you," Jack says, "I'm not a good dancer. Two left feet, y'know?"

"Better than four left feet," Davey says, and Jack snorts. 

"So at least I'm human, and not a Martian?"

"I feel like Saturn has more of a four feet vibe."

"It's a gas giant, you can't walk on it."

"Well," Davey says solemnly, "that's for the Saturn aliens to figure out." Jack laughs at that, and Davey grins, tugging on his hand. "C'mon."

They dance for fifteen straight songs, long enough that the tipsiness from the beginning of the party has faded away into an entirely different happiness. By song fifteen, they've migrated directly into each other's personal space, and Jack is giddy with all the noise and closeness and every freckle on Davey's face.

Their hands bumping together has turned to Davey's arm around Jack's shoulders, which has turned into the two of them face-to-face, holding each other like it's a slow dance and talking just loud enough so the other can hear them. 

Davey's a constitutional law student, he loves Stevie Nicks, he has a cat and two siblings. He's hilarious, in a dry, begrudging sort of way, and he was apparently notoriously quiet in elementary school.

He has three freckles, right in a cluster, under his right eye. His fingernails are painted gold, and he laughs when Jack says something funny but never when Jack insults himself.

"Don't tell me what to do," the singer onstage cries. "Don't tell me what to say."

Davey's arms are wrapped around Jack's waist, which normally makes him feel claustrophobic and uncomfortable but is ridiculously pleasant right now. Jack's hands are resting on the back of Davey's neck, and everything is just so… nice. 

There's a million people screaming along to the song, everyone but the two of them smells like booze, and Jack is doing all the things that normally make him want to crawl out of his own skin. But it's nice. Better than nice, really, Jack thinks this might be one of the best nights he's had in a while.

Davey's expression turns thoughtful, and Jack tilts his head to the side, making him smile.

"What's the look for?"

Davey sighs softly. "I was just wondering," he says, "if you would be furious at me for kissing you."

That hits Jack like a bolt of lightning, running down his spine until every part of his body feels warm and alive. “Not furious,” he manages, and one of Davey’s hands comes up to cradle the side of his face, his touch breathtakingly delicate. “The opposite, really.”

“Okay,” Davey murmurs. “That’s good.” Jack barely has time to laugh.

Davey leans down a little, and everything slides, ever so slightly, into place. The kiss is all at once gentle and firm, soft in the way Davey’s thumb rests on Jack’s cheek and rough in how he grabs onto Jack’s waist and pulls him closer. Jack clutches at Davey’s shirt and his hair, trying to stay grounded, and groans under his breath when Davey bites on his lip.

There’s a different song playing when they pull away from each other. They’re both breathing heavily, the glitter of Davey’s lip gloss is smeared all around his mouth, and when Jack wipes at his own jaw, his fingers come away glittery, too. He swipes his finger across Davey’s cheekbone, making him laugh. They fall silent for a moment, and Jack thinks.

He isn’t entirely used to this break in his pattern. It’s entirely different from people finding him hilarious when they’re all drunk, him forming a circle of new friends, but then heading home alone. And he isn’t sure what he wants out of tonight, but he knows none of it will happen surrounded by Katherine’s wasted friends and acquaintances. 

Before he manages to lose his nerve, he asks, “Do you wanna head to my place?”

Davey immediately looks relieved. “Oh my god, yes, please.”

They make their way there, the journey broken up by pauses for making out against the bar, in the coatroom, in the back of their taxi, in the elevator up to Jack’s apartment, and outside the door of Jack’s apartment before Jack finally forces the door open and lets them inside.

By then, he's decided exactly what he wants.

When Jack wakes up, Davey is already awake and scrolling on his phone. He turns it off when he sees Jack’s eyes open and smiles at him. “Hey. I didn’t want to wake you.”

“Thanks.” He leans forward and kisses Davey, much slower than last night, and Davey runs his thumb over Jack’s lips when they part.

“I actually have to leave,” he says. “I’ve got class at noon.” Jack waves his hand for him to go.

“Go be a lawyer.”

“Mm, law student.”

“Tomato, tomahto.”

Davey kisses him again. “I’ll leave my number on your counter, okay?”

Jack nods, and Davey smiles, getting up to collect his clothes from where they’re strewn across the floor and get dressed. Jack whistles when he bends down to tie his boots, and Davey rolls his eyes, coming back to kiss him nonetheless.

"Parting is such sweet sorrow," Jack says against his lips, and Davey pulls away.

"You know Shakespeare?"

Jack laughs. "Not really. Nerd."

"Shut up." Davey kisses him again.

When he leaves, Jack stays in bed for a while, smiling gleefully, and picks up his phone. He remembers muting it in the taxi, and laughs as his messages pop up.

Charlie: where r u there's cotton candy made of vodka

Charlie: we're putting dibs on sleeping spaces so u better show up or u have to sleep in the garden

Charlie: wheeerrrreee aaaaaarrrrrrreeee yyyyoooooouuuuu

Charlie: LMAOOOO i saw spot's snap ;))))))

Charlie: and on kathys.. he's hot congrats!

Charlie: i'll assume that's where u are. get some bro!!!!!

Charlie: CHECK RAF'S SNAP HAVE U BEEN A SECRET HOE THE WHOLE TIME

Jack raises his eyebrows and goes to see what had happened, a sigh brewing in his chest. 

And.. yes. There it is.

He generally doesn't like having pictures taken of him. It's such a permanent act, something that can be there forever proving everything he thinks about himself correct. An everlasting piece of evidence that he's right. 

But none of that shows here. He doesn't look sad, or tired, or too short, or too big. He looks like he belongs in his skin. He looks like he enjoys his day-to-day. 

Also, Davey looks really into him. Which is implied by his tongue in Jack's mouth, but they look happy. They look like they fit together, like they've known each other for so much longer than that night.

In Katherine's picture, Davey has his fingers curled in Jack's belt loops, pulling him closer. They're smiling against each other's lips.

In Rafaela's, it is... significantly less sweet. Jack's pinned against the wall, Davey's hand is up his shirt, and Jack has to close it quickly before he starts thinking too much.

Okay. Okay, so Jack can never bring Davey out with his friends for fear of torment. Cool.

There's a little warm feeling in his chest, a brand-new rightness, that all of what had happened was how it was supposed to be. The way Davey looks in those pictures, like Jack is exactly what he wants, and the way every quick remark and joke and tease fit together and made sense-- he doesn't think he'll ever stop smiling.

His chest aches for a second. God, he needs Davey to feel the same way. He wants those private, gleeful smiles for himself and himself alone.

Please, God, don't let Davey want someone else.

It's been one night, he reminds himself, roughly fifteen hours. He takes a deep breath, remembers the way Davey's laugh borders on a cackle, and feels the tightness in his shoulders loosen.

He drags himself out of bed to the kitchen, and smiles at the receipt Davey's scribbled his number on. Davey must've brought the newspaper in and put the coffee on, and Jack scans over the entertainment section while he waits for his cup to cool down to drinking temperature.

After a while, the door phone buzzes, and Jack answers, confused. "Hey?"

"Yeah, I got a food delivery for Jack?"

He blinks and buzzes them in. "Uh, yeah, come on up."

It's entirely possible he might be murdered, but he also wants food.

After a minute or so, there's a knock on the door. Jack trades the brown paper bag for a cash tip, and the delivery person nods. "There's a note in there. I ain't gonna read it for you."

"Thanks."

They nod again and leave. Jack shuts the door and sets the bag down on his table, unpacking his bounty: golden waffles, little cups of whipped cream and syrup, and berries. The note is at the bottom of the bag, and Jack laughs in disbelief when he reads it.

Normally I'd make you breakfast. This is hopefully tastier than what I could've done. Text me sometime soon, don't wait three days to seem cool, please. 

"Of the very instant that I saw you, Did my heart fly to your service." -The Tempest

-Davey

Jack is going to marry this guy. He's decided. He's going to marry Davey whatever-his-last-name-is. 

To Charlie: so if a guy orders u breakfast how slutty should the thank u selfie be

She responds immediately, god bless her.

Charlie: babe that's up to the vibe

Charlie: also he sounds so sweet congrats!!! was the night good

To Charlie: very good.

Charlie: if it were ME it would be a titty out kinda look but you're you

To Charlie: thank u xx i will not be taking that advice

It takes him five minutes to get an appropriately goofy selfie without looking like a damn fool, and also still seeming kind of alluring and hot.

He texts with one hand while eating, not wanting the waffle to cool down any more, and debates for a while on the caption before finally going to google.

To Davey: img736.jpg

To Davey: "For where thou art, there is the world itself, And where thou art not, desolation"

To Davey: - Henry VI, i think?

Davey: going into the HISTORIES, I see

Davey: btw you're breathtaking. enjoy your breakfast!

Jack's a wreck for the rest of the day.

#newsies fic #javid #jack kelly #david jacobs #katherine plumber #javid fic #newsies #penzy writes #!!! this was fun

[avengerscompound]

Bartoned - Chapter 26

Bartoned - A Hawkeye Fanfic

Masterlist PREVIOUS //

Buy me a ☕ Square: @clintbartonbingo​ - O5 Wedding

Rating:  E

Warnings:  mentions of  sex

Pairing: Clint Barton x F!Reader

Word Count:  2316

Summary:  Clint’s name has become synonymous with fucking things up.  When you have a one night stand with him, your whole life gets Bartoned.

Chapter 26

The six weeks that fell between baby Natasha’s first vaccination and Steve and Bucky’s wedding were hectic but due to a severe lack of sleep seemed to pass in a bit of a haze.

Much to both yours and Clint’s delight, Nattie had started smiling and laughing.  Clint couldn’t get enough of trying to make his little girl laugh.  There was such a look of pure joy on his face when he heard that little baby giggle, it like nothing you’d seen before.  There were none of his self-doubts in that look.  None of his trauma.  Just pure, innocent, happiness.

The other thing that Natasha had started to do was wriggle on the floor like she was trying to crawl sometimes.  It was the cutest thing hearing her little grunts, as she smiled and her arms and legs flailed around wildly.

There had been another dress fittings with Kari and you’d started planning her bachelorette party.  You’d booked a place in the Hamptons for a weekend and planned on doing a range of things from horseback riding to getting drunk on the beach.

You’d also been trying to figure out what you wanted for your own wedding.  It was difficult because the two of you kept bouncing between these three concepts.  Something that was more of a party than a wedding, something casual almost like a cookout, and something up high with a view.  You just couldn’t figure out how to make those three things work.

You’d also gone to see some more places, but that balance between money and distance was still sticking with you.  It was not a good use of his money to throw it all into one house, but the three of you needed to move somewhere or decide it wasn’t going to happen because currently your room was just boxes of unpacked baby things and Clint’s was where the three of you were sleeping.  Clint had gone to speak to Tony, and Tony had hooked him up with both a lawyer to write up a prenup and an accountant to help him manage his money.

There had also been a bachelor party for both Bucky and Steve.  Bucky’s had been low key.  They’d gone to a cigar and bourbon bar and Clint had come home handsy and stinking of cigar smoke.  Steve’s had been planned by Tony though, and all the men had been flown out to Vegas via private jet.  Clint had texted you throughout the night telling you all the things that they’d made Steve do.  He video called at 7 to talk to you and baby Natasha.  He read a book to her while people in the background yelled at him about how he was whipped.

At one, you woke up to feed her and there was a text from Clint asking you to call him back as soon as you saw it.  You went and changed your daughter and called him, half-asleep while you fed her.  He’d said a couple had asked him to join them in the bedroom and if that was okay with you.  You’d told him as long as he was safe and gone back to bed.

When he’d come back the next day he’d told you all about it.  Initially, it was just a quick reassurance he had been safe and that he was still here with you.  When you’d asked him how it happened and what he’d ended up doing, the little run down was quite the turn on.  You’d ended up having sex on the floor while he told you in fine detail exactly what he did with the couple he met in Vegas while Natasha napped in the bedroom.  Breaking the first rule of Vegas while you came three times.

On the day of the wedding, you wore a lavender cocktail dress with the idea you’d match Clint’s tie.  You dressed Nattie in a cute white dress with lavender flowers around the hem and packed the baby bag and stroller with a lot of extra things.  You had the feeling that bringing her along might end up with you needing to leave early, but the only people you’d ever gotten to babysit were invited and that was usually just for an hour or two.

Clint was wearing a suit in black with a lavender tie.  It was the first time you’d seen him in one and it was weird.  It wasn’t a great fit and he seemed so uncomfortable in it.  You came over to him and straightened his tie, while Nattie reached over and smacked him in the face.  “Why do you look like you’re about to stand trial for public urination?”  You asked.

“Hate suits,” he grumbled, taking Natasha off you.

“But you like dressing up,” you said.

“In costumes yeah.  This isn’t a costume,” he argued.

“Sure it is.  We’re rich industrialists going to win some new clients at the latest…”  You trailed off while you tried to think where you were going.

“... gala for environmental sabotage?”  Clint suggested.

You snorted and put your arm around his waist.  “Yes.  That.  That’s where we’re going.”

“Okay, Lady Essex.  Let’s go then.  We can’t be late for the gala,” he said.

Clint had organized a town car to avoid having to find parking near the venue.  As it wound through the streets of Midtown and crossed the Brooklyn Bridge Natasha drifted off to sleep.

“Wonder how long she’ll give us,” Clint mused.

You shrugged.  “Hard to say really.  But I can always go home early and you stay if need be.  Steve and Bucky were your people before they were mine.”

Clint leaned over and kissed your cheek.  “Hopefully it doesn’t come to that,” he said.  “I can’t believe it’s actually happening.  Those two were engaged for so long.  We all just thought they were gonna be fiances forever.”

“Must be exciting for them.  Bet they never expected this to actually happen either,” you said.

“Oh yeah, they’re buzzing.  When Thor got Bucky drunk on mead the dude went all wistful and kept talking about how big of an idiot Steve was and how much he loved him,” Clint said.  “It was pretty gross… but funny.”

“If you don’t like wearing suits you shouldn’t wear one at our wedding,” you said.

He looked at you with an eyebrow raised.  “But… don’t you kind of have to?”

“You show me the law that says you have to wear a suit at a wedding and I’ll make you wear one,” you said. “Until then, what else can you wear?  We could do costumes.  Make it themed.  Knights.  Or pirates.  Or… you could wear a kilt.  If you want to go really over the top, you can look at what men wore to the Met Gala for inspiration.  Or if you want to dress down, just a nice sweater over dress pants.  It’s our day.  We’re making it ours.”

He smiled softly at you and leaned over and kissed you.  “Can we serve pizza?”

“Hell yeah, we can,” you agreed.

He reached over and squeezed your hand.  “I love you so much.”

“Are you sure?  It sounds like you like pizza so much,” you teased.

“I can love more than one thing at a time,” Clint teased back.  “I’m kinda excited.  We really gotta find a venue.”

“And a home,” you said.

He chuckled and rubbed the back of your neck.  The car pulled up at the Brooklyn Historical Society.  You went into the 400-year-old Redstone building and parked Natasha’s stroller out of the way before heading through the rows of books to the middle of the library which had been set up with chairs forming an aisle.  You and Clint put the gifts on the table with the others and took a seat next to Natasha, who immediately took her namesake off Clint and rocked her back to sleep as you waited for the ceremony to start.

When the celebrant, Sam, and Tony were standing at the front of the room and the seats were filled with what was mostly familiar faces -Bucky and Steve’s family were made up of Avengers and SHIELD Agents and they were all here to celebrate with them - a pair of cellos began to play ‘Somewhere Over the Rainbow’.  Steve and Bucky walked in from opposite sides of the room, both dressed in black three-piece suits.  Bucky’s was paired with a gray tie, while Steve’s was a pale blue.  They reached the aisle together and linked hands as they walked down the aisle.

They reached the end and the celebrant stepped forward.  “Friends, we are gathered here today to witness the union of these two people and celebrate the love they share.  It is a unique love that has endured a century and many trials.  Two men who, despite the odds against them, find themselves here in front of all of you, finally able to declare their love to each other.  But first, we have a reading from Ms. Romanoff by James Kavanaugh, titled ‘Love is Not to Possess’.”

Natasha got up and moved to the front of the room still cradling Nattie.  “To love is not to possess, to own or imprison, nor to lose one’s self in another.  Love is to join and separate, to walk alone and together, to find a laughing freedom that lonely isolation does not permit.  It is finally to be able to be who we really are, no longer clinging in childish dependency nor docilely living separate lives in silence, it is to be perfectly one’s self and perfectly joined in permanent commitment to another - and to one’s inner self.”

She took a seat again as everyone applauded and the celebrant stepped forward, beckoning to Steve and Bucky to step forward.  The two men took each other’s hands and gazed into each other’s eyes the smiles glued to their faces.  “Before you make your vows, I want to hear you each confirm that it is your intention to be married today.  Do you come here freely and without reservation to give yourselves to each other in marriage?”

“I do,” Bucky and Steve said, speaking as one.

“Steve and James have their own vows and I ask them to read them now.

“Today, I stand before you and take you to be my husband. I promise to be open and honest with you and to take care of you each and every day.  I promise to uphold the individuality and equality of our spirits, to share your joys and sorrows, to care for you in times of sickness, and to love you no matter what happens in our lives.  And most of all, I promise to allow you to do the same for me.  ‘Till the end of the line.”  Steve said.

Bucky swallowed and cleared his throat.  “Today, I stand before you to protect, love and cherish you.  To help you carry your burdens and support your decisions, however stupid they might be. I promise to uphold the individuality and equality of our spirits, to share your joys and sorrows, to care for you in times of sickness, and to love you no matter what happens in our lives.  And most of all, I promise to allow you to do the same for me.  ‘Till the end of the line.”

The celebrant spoke again.  “Your wedding rings are the outward visible sign of the invisible bond which unites your two souls in love.  The perfect circle of the ring symbolizes eternity.  What was once raw and unpolished, was shaped to make something beautiful and eternal, just like the love you share.  As you place the rings on each other’s fingers, complete your vows to each other.”

Sam stepped forward and handed a ring to Bucky.  Bucky slipped the ring onto Steve’s finger as his hands shook slightly.  “I give you this ring as a symbol of my love for you.  Let it be a reminder that I will always be at your side.”

Tony handed Steve a ring too and pulled what looked like a pen from his pocket.  “I give you this ring as a symbol of my love for you.  Let it be a reminder that I will always be at your side.”  Steve said as he slipped the ring onto Bucky’s finger.

“You might need to shield your eyes people,” Tony said, moving between Bucky and Steve.  Bucky raised his hand and everyone covered their eyes as a bright flickering light and the sound of Tony welding Bucky’s ring in place.”

When the light faded you all looked up and the celebrant raised his hands.  “Friends, I invite you to congratulate these two people now they have been joined as they seal their vows with a kiss.”

Everyone clapped as Steve and Bucky wrapped their arms around each other and kissed deeply.  Neither seeming to lead, but rather coming together as equals.  When they broke apart Steve was blushing slightly.

The staff started coming through with drinks and hors d’oeuvres as Steve and Bucky first signed the legal paperwork and they moved the chairs out and started setting up the tables for dinner.  Clint kept grabbing the mini burgers each time they passed.  “I want these at our wedding,” he said.

“Mini burgers and pizzas do sound like a Barton wedding,” you agreed.

“What else have you got planned?”  Natasha asked.

“Nothing.  That’s it,” you said with a shrug.

“I want a way more graphic kiss than Steve and Bucky’s,” Clint added.

“Yeah.  One where people feel physically ill watching us,” you agreed.

For a moment you could see Natasha trying to stifle a laugh.  It didn’t work though and she was soon laughing a little uncontrollably.  “You couple of idiots.  You’re really made for each other, you know?”

“Thanks, Nat,” Clint said, putting his arm around your waist.  “I like to think so too.”

// NEXT

#clintbartonbingo2019 #clint barton #clint barton x reader #hawkeye #hawkeye fanfic #fanfiction #fanfic #reader insert #bartoned

[kalypsichor]

five’s a crowd [ beatles x reader ] chapter nine

summary: George fancies himself to be Sherlock and drags you along with him, determined to figure out why Ringo’s been acting so weird lately. What you find changes everything.

warnings: 2.7k of an emotional rollercoaster

i’m sorry. notes at end of chapter

You float through the next few days on a bit of a cloud. George doesn’t see Maureen again, which you know you should be bummed about since he’s your friend and all, but… okay, you admit it. You don’t like them together. It’s nothing against Maureen, of course, and everything due to you being a shitty friend.

Wait… that’s it. You’re sitting on the steps leading up to your building and, jumping up, you almost hit your head on the railing. That weird, acidic feeling that sat in the pit of your stomach and reared into your throat whenever Maureen had laughed or George had put an arm around her… that was because you didn’t want to lose George’s friendship. It all makes sense now. And sure, although you admit that it’s not healthy to be so possessive of a friend, it’s better than the idea that you could possibly be… possibly be in…

“Love? What’re you doing out here?”

You know who it is before you turn around. Still, your heart catches in your throat, and you can’t help feeling like you were just caught doing something you shouldn’t be.

“Just enjoying the nice weather,” you say, smiling at George as he joins you on the steps. Are you smiling too wide? Is it too forced? Fuck, you’ve forgotten how to smile, what’s happening to you??? “How ‘bout you?”

George bumps his shoulder lightly into yours. “Was wonderin’ where my friend went. Have you seen her? She’s about yea high, can’t play Clue for shite-”

“Hey! I’ll have you know that I’m very good at Clue. Better than you, at least.”

“Hm, but who was it that won Monopoly at Game Night?”

“You were cheating!”

You grin at each other and it’s so… natural. Yes, this is natural, this is just good ol’ banter between good ol’ friends. And being so jealous of Maureen had been stupid; how could you have possibly doubted the bond between you and George? The bond which has kept you together through thick and thin, through all your ups and downs…

Ever since that first night you met him.

***

Uni was nothing like the movies.

For one, there were no cliques or anything like that. People were generally nice and welcoming.

Which made the fact that you were feeling so out of place at this party even more pathetic.

Your roommate, a bubbly theatre performance major named Jane, had convinced you to come—well, her exact words were that you needed to “stop sitting on your arse and get out of the dorm a little”—and you weren’t having a bad time. You just weren’t having much of a good one, either. The music was loud yet also unintelligible and the flat, which belonged to some third years, was stuffy and packed with way more people than should be legally possible.

So, there you were, nursing a cup of Sgt. Pepper and trying to find somewhere that didn’t smell like B.O.

People kept on bumping into you, making your drink slosh around dangerously close to the top, and you kept on apologising for some fucking reason. Eventually, a set of double doors caught your eyes. It led to a porch of some sort, and just the thought of fresh air was already making your breathing easier. With quick, careful steps, you made your way through the throng of people and into the warm summer air.

It’s so dark out that you don’t notice there’s someone else on the porch until he turns, melting right out of the shadows and startling you a little.

“Oh! I’m sorry, I didn’t see you…”

The stranger just blinked at you, looking as though he was about to scowl but suddenly forgot how.

“Er, I’ll just find somewhere else to, uh, sulk.”

You made to leave but froze at the feeling of a grip on your wrist. Your gaze followed the long, almost elegant fingers to a tense shoulder. A bobbing Adam’s apple. Dark eyes which widened comically when he suddenly snatched his hand back as though burned.

“Stay. Sorry. I thought you were someone else.” When he noticed your shocked expression, he quickly backpedaled. “I mean, you don’t /have/ to stay. You can. I’m not tryin’ to tell you, uh… I’m…” The boy sighed and slumped forward, his next words more to himself than you. “Jesus Christ.”

Normally you’d sprint the other way if you accidentally found yourself alone with a complete stranger, but something drew you to join him, drew you to stand shoulder to shoulder and drape your arms over the railing. Something, something… you weren’t sure what. You would figure it out eventually, probably.

“Well, it’s an honor to meet you, Jesus. I’m a big fan of your work.”

His head turned slightly, dark mop of hair shifting and parting in the breeze. When your eyes met, you both started laughing, the sound carrying over the din of the party behind you.

And when he told you his name, and you told him yours, they fit together like pieces of a puzzle.

***

George brings you out of your reverie, calling your name softly. You shake your head and try to swipe away the cobwebs of that fond memory.

“Sorry, I was just thinking about something.”

He grins and shoves a hand in his pocket, bringing out his phone. “I’ve been doing a little thinking of my own, too. Have you noticed how Ringo’s been sorta sus recently?”

Huh. You think back to Ringo's odd behavior last Sunday, and how he’d come back from supposedly walking dogs with a grin that lasted til dinner. Dogs are cute, obviously, and you’d die for one in an instant, but you’ve never seen them have that kind of an effect on Ringo.

“Yeah, I guess. Do you know why?”

“No, but!” George accentuated the ‘but’ with an adorably excited wag of his finger. “I know how we can figure it out… using the wonders of technology!” George’s phone is shoved in your direction and you blink at the familiar yellow app glowing right back at you.

“... Snapchat?”

“Ringo left half an hour ago to do some more ‘dog walking’,” cue air quotes, “and I was thinking we could try and figure out what he’s really up to.”

It takes your brain a few seconds to process this. “Wait, but—shouldn’t his location be turned off?”

“Yeah, it should be. I tell him to do it all the time, 'cept he doesn’t know how. Anyway, it’ll come in handy now.”

“Wait wait wait.” You bring up a hand and slowly move the phone out of the way so you can meet George’s eyes. “You’re talking about stalking your friend.”

“Our friend,” George corrects. “And it’s not really stalking if he’s so easy to find.”

“Say that a little louder, Geo, I don’t think the police heard you.”

“Listen, there’s no harm in it. If Ringo’s really telling the truth, we’ll get to see some cute dogs. And if not, we can catch him red-handed doing… something sketchy!”

You want to say no, partly because this is a crazy plan and partly because you weren’t too keen on spending your afternoon on a wild goose chase. But with your exams over, you really haven’t got anything else to do.

Also, you just can’t bring yourself to let down that adorable anticipation on George’s face.

“Fine. But!” This time it’s your turn to jab a finger in his direction. “If it’s the mafia or something, I’m using your skinny arse as a human shield.”

George frowns. It’s more of a pout, really, and you privately think that it puts Paul’s to shame. “First of all, it’s not skinny. Second,” he grabs your hand and starts pulling you along the sidewalk, “we’re losing daylight! The game is afoot, dear Watson!”

You can’t help but laugh, even as you’re being unceremoniously dragged along. “Why do you get to be Sherlock?”

George lets go of your hand (you are not disappointed, you’re not) and turns up the collar of his jacket, sending you a sly grin. “It’s the cheekbones. Benadryl Cucumber could cut glass with those things, y’know.”

As you look at George’s side profile, platonically admiring his sharp jawline and defined nose, you can’t help but agree. Personally, though, you think that his cheekbones put Beelzebub Cabbagepatch’s to shame.

***

The problem is that Ringo keeps on moving. Sure, you have Google Maps, but you can’t exactly put in a destination because Ringo doesn’t even seem to have one. George isn’t any less directionally challenged than you, so for the past half hour you’ve both been just walking in the vague cardinal direction of Ringo’s last location.

“Consider this,” you say, huffing a little from the endless walking. Okay, so maybe you should get out of the apartment and, god forbid, exercise more. “What if he’s actually walking a dog? He’s moving around enough to be doing it.”

George comes to a sudden stop and you smack right into him, nose squashing momentarily against the back of his jacket before. Before you can withdraw from the warmth of George’s body, though, you catch a whiff of something—clean laundry, fresh linen, George—and you’re overwhelmed by a sudden, ridiculous urge to press into him again.

“There’s got to be something going on,” he insists. “Ringo can barely wash his hands with that cast on, much less walk dogs. Don’t you think?”

You nod, but really only because you’ve suddenly forgotten how to speak.

“Wait, look! He’s walking around in circles now… think he’s at some sort of park. Come on, before we lose him!”

And then George is taking your hand again, sprinting across the street with no warning. You can’t bring yourself to mind. His palm is so warm against yours, fingers intertwining perfectly as though they were made for each other. He lets go when you reach the sidewalk, of course, which is absolutely normal. Friendly. Your fingers don’t suddenly feel cold, not at all.

God, you wanna hold his hand.

You get to the park pretty quickly, which the stitch in your side is grateful for. It’s your run of the mill ordeal: benches, trees here and there, a nice duck pond in the middle of it all. Before you get the chance to look for Ringo’s mop of hair, though, George pulls you into a clump of bushes. Your knees hit the dirt and send a jolt of pain up your leg, making you hiss.

“What the hell, George?”

“Sorry, sorry!” He gives you an apologetic look and his hand finds one of your knees, rubbing little circles where there’s a smear of dirt. Suddenly, you don’t care at all about falling down. “Just wanted to make sure we wouldn’t be seen.”

You huff and glance around. Thankfully, there aren’t any passersby to give you weird looks. “This Sherlock thing is really going to your head. Don’t you think we’re making a big deal out of all this?”

George goes to make a retort—looks a little sheepish, though, so you’ll give him that—but then he freezes. He doesn’t even have to say anything for you to know that he’s spotted Ringo… and that something’s wrong.

Ringo’s walking around the bend of the path that circles the pond, laughing about something. He looks so happy, his laugh so lighthearted, that your own lips twitch upwards at the sight. But then you see what’s making him laugh and the grin disappears.

It’s Maureen.

Ringo’s got his arm around her and they’re looking at each other like nothing else exists. You’ve seen that look many, many times, having to suffer through it whenever John and Paul get very, well, JohnandPaul. It’s not friendly, like you and George, it’s… it’s like love.

You want to pull George away, cover his eyes, anything that could possibly undo this, this… whatever this is. But the damage has already been done. You can see it in how his jaw clenches, how his eyes flash vulnerable before settling on guarded, and how his posture is stiff when he stands up and walks right through the bushes you’re crouched behind.

“George, wait-”

It’s too late. Ringo’s head turns to the sudden commotion and his smile slips away so quickly it’s like it’s been slapped off. He stops in his tracks. Maureen is a second behind, takes another step forward before jolting back when her partner doesn’t move. And when her gaze lands on George, who’s barreling towards them, the emotions on her face are so visible that you almost cringe. Shock, fear, and then, overwhelmingly, guilt.

You don’t have to see Ringo to know he looks the same.

Your feet are carrying you towards them before your brain can catch up, but something stops you a few feet away from the scene. It almost feels like you’re eavesdropping because this has nothing to do with you. Except, you realize, everything concerning George concerns you, too. Because you care about him.

So much.

“Ringo! We were just walking through the neighborhood!” George gestures in your direction and Maureen’s eyes snap to you. You flinch, partly at the motion and partly at the false cheeriness George has inflected into his voice. “You know, she said to me, she said ‘well isn’t that Ringo?’ And I thought, no, it couldn’t be. My best friend wouldn’t go behind my back and take out the girl I was seeing.” His voice cracks halfway through ‘best.’ You know that George notices, because his cheeks have turned a furious, embarrassed pink. “But I guess it really is you.”

Ringo’s eyes stay on George the whole time. They’re really so, so blue and light enough that a part of you fancies you could see George’s reflection in them. They don’t look away, not when George points at you, not even when he’s done speaking. You know, then, that Ringo really cares about George. Loves him, even. And George must know that, right?

“George.” Quiet, restrained. “How did you find us?”

It’s like George doesn’t hear a word. “Did you already have your eyes on her at the bar? The morning after, you were already texting her, right? God, you took her out. The morning after.” His voice breaks again at the last sentence, catching on something sharp and stumbling out of his throat.

There’s nothing to say. Everyone knows the answer, really. It’s obvious—yes, yes, and yes. The silence that stretches between George’s shuddering intake of breath to Ringo’s next words is heavy.

“Did you follow me?”

The atmosphere becomes paper-thin, now. Changes so quickly you feel the breath rush out of you. And George tears right through it.

“Does it fucking matter?” You’ve never heard George sound like this and you know you’ve got to stop it, got to slam on the brakes before it all breaks. But how?

“George-”

“Stop. Just stop, Ritchie.”

That’s when something cracks in Ringo’s eyes. Only his closest friends call him that, Ritchie, and hearing George say it like that, practically spitting it out… even Maureen feels the venom in his tone. She takes a half step forward and Ringo stops her, hand grasping her arm and tugging her back. George sees it and his face falls.

“I’m sorry, George, he was just—being nice to me, that’s all.”

“Nice? Is that what you call it?” George laughs bitterly. “God, I couldn’t even keep you for a day, huh? This is pathetic. I’m-”

He doesn’t finish his sentence, takes a deep breath instead. Runs a shaky hand through his hair. George is angry, trembling with it, but for some reason you almost feel like it’s more towards himself.

“I guess you really were dog-walking, Ritchie. Just didn’t think she’d be a bitch.”

Whatever holds the four of you in place shatters. George stumbles backwards and the regret is already painted all over his face, the shock evident in his wide eyes. Maureen gasps, tearing her arm away from Ringo’s hold to clasp a hand over her mouth. And Ringo—Ringo doesn’t stop her this time. They both know he doesn’t mean it, even you do, but the word still hangs in the air between them. Ringo has always been the slowest to anger, the hardest to rile up, but this time is different. You see a fire rise to his eyes, a line harden around his mouth, a subtle change in his stance.

Still, nothing prepares you for when he rears back and strikes George right across the face.

- - -

notes: 1) i know nothing about college (or i guess “uni”) in england, so some of this is probably so wrong. Like i guess you guys only have three years?? And apparently NO GPA??? So, that was def a mistake on my part in ch six. Also, I guess midterms aren’t a thing. That brings me to 2) this story is taking place during the first semester of their third and final year at uni. Which means they are in… the middle of October! IDK i’m making this tf up rn. Mostly bc I really wanna write a halloween chapter (dee here! We’re making an executive decision to set this before halloween because we NEED christmas feels)

taglist: (wanna be added? dm me or @spaceyantique!)

@1-2beeble @beatlevmania @theclassicsl @withthebeables @thasbooooooi @geostarr @report-abuse

#george harrison x reader #beatles fanfic #the beatles x reader #ringo starr x reader #john lennon x reader #paul mccartney x reader #five's a crowd #kalwrites #i will timezone rb this later #but i just wanted to post now #need it get it outta my system

[24inchtoilet]

Exactly How To Plan Your Area For A Small Washroom Remodel

Normally, you will certainly such as to have the tiniest commode or portable toilet to conserve area as well as make more legroom. It additionally fulfills EPA needs for water efficiency as well as is sure to reduce your water bills down by a significant quantity. This is regardless of the twin flush mechanism which can quickly cause water to run continuously; thus wastefulness happens. With totally polished surface and also trap way, Galba Toilet will certainly not require constant hand-operated cleaning. So it will conserve your time that you spend in cleansing your existing conventional bathroom. Woodbridge's T0032small toilet has included a sleek and clean layout with a one-piece style. When affixed at other points along bench, the size is determined throughout of the bar. This guide notes some stipulations in the International Building Ordinance as well as the ICC A117.1 Specifications for Easily Accessible and Usable Structures as well as Facilities that are not located in the ADA Requirements. As an example, the A117.1 requirement, which supplies technical stipulations and is referenced by the IBC, requires an upright grab bar at water closets. Not all differences between the ADA Specifications as well as versions of the IBC as well as A117.1 standard are kept in mind in this guide. If you wish to remove the seat to give a much deeper clean, it's simple. There's a dual flush, run by twin buttons on top of the container. They're ended up in chrome with a chrome border for a premium appearance. If you hate the job of reaching into grooves to clean, take into consideration the T-0031/ B0500 from Woodbridge. You'll be hard-pressed to discover a portable commode with flatter, smoother surface areas. You'll wish to establish the center of the water closet flange 12 inches from the ended up back wall. Adds 5 ″ to the height of the toilet seat to assist in resting as well as rising. Features a front securing device for very easy setup. The firm additionally makes a bigger up-flush commode design that can take care of the water quantity produced by a shower. To bump the service warranty from 2 to 3 years, you need to register your acquisition with Saniflo. The bathroom seat is tiny and also boosts the general appearance of the building and construction. The seat has soft-close technology to guarantee it never ever pounds shut. The commode is of typical elevation, which means you will not have any type of troubles sitting and getting off it. Bradenton Elongated Two Truly made with a deluxe exterior appearance, and it would be best for those who have a tiny bit area inside their bathroom. GALBA short range commode contains the most effective siphonic flush system technologies. Aswell, it comes with a 300 MAP clean rating for strong waste. On top of that, there has a double purpose on the cheap and a lot more h2o. Such as the Swiss Madison product, there isn't any informative data on the flush valve and trapway dimensions. The pan is of the closed-rim design with gaps lined along side rim for dish rinsing. They usually have a triangular lavatory tank that allows these to be put in in a bathroom part. Toto lavatories are among the best and greatest flushing toilets in the arena. You'll be able to thus be certain that the Toto Entrada compact commode will be the ideal choice for the small bathroom. The Kohler Santa Rosa is actually an one-piece elongated toilet which takes alike area as a circular bathroom without compromising regarding the comfort of an elongated commode. Galba tiny bathroom is but quite expensive compared to some other commodes with similar or near similar attributes and requirements. In other words, just the right top depends on the physical requirements, the level, and the way where you transfer on and off the toilet. Like, in the case of wheelchair consumers, the bathroom should match the level associated with the company program. Including, some versions facilitate a seat level of 28 in or higher. However, the primary advantage associated with elongated bowls is that they are more comfy for the majority customers. This might be difficulty if a regional drinking water really is utilized to provide groundwater for normal water purposes. During the passageway inside land, pathogens can die down or perhaps be taken in somewhat, generally depending on the vacation time taken between the pit therefore the fine. Many, not all pathogens pass away within 50 days of vacation through subsurface. The user jobs themself during the little drop hole during use. The dimensions of the feces drop hole inside flooring or slab really should not be larger than 25 centimeters (9.8 ins) to avoid youngsters slipping in. Behind the sink or toilet, the ceiling height is as low as 60 inches. Vanity and sink levels do not have needs for peak; the recommendation is that they healthy the level regarding the individual, starting from 32 to 43 ins. Lavatories must determine at least 15 ins through the floor toward rim, with a suggested peak of 17 in from the floor towards rim. The chair height of a convenience commode must certanly be between 17 to 19 inches through the floor into seat very top. Additionally, the top shouldn't be modified by springing the chair. Typically, they measure between 17 to 19 ins through the flooring toward seat. It can make them about 2 to 3 in bigger as compared to standard commodes. Apart from the peak, additional specifications are subject to the manufacturer’s choice. But with that said, its not all company can assure the elements will always truth be told there for your needs if you want them, even though you live nearby to your seller or DIY store. Thus before we even determine a lavatory, I’d consult the manufacturer/dealer the sort of flush and fill valve is employed, assuming a 3rd party component is compatible. Finally, if you should be feeling only a little daring, do think about the other two 24-inch quick length toilets – Swiss Madison and Woodbridge Bath. Though their own critiques are not that convincing like Galba additionally the absence in flushing program information, they've been nevertheless viable options whenever cost is your primary consideration. The primary reason you are looking for a small commode could be because of the space restriction you happen to be experiencing. Therefore the flushing power and efficiency of small Carus should-be of the identical degree. The sole issue will be the narrow gap approval within bolt holes in addition to tank. When you need a bidet seat, kindly check for compatibility because of the particular companies before purchasing this 23″ commode. And spot the approval room involving the bolt gaps together with tank , that's is where an element of the toilet length has been bare. Regarding Carus, the approval space appears a little narrow for a bidet seat. This peak enables many typical to tall-sized adults to sit down really easily atop the throne. Furthermore, unlike many lightweight commodes which have a lower life expectancy container behind the toilet pan, this style permits an extremely large additional unit behind its toilet pan. Here, the top of the tank hits a sufficient 30.75 in above the completed flooring. For those who have a larger bathroom or taller household members who want something slightly simpler throughout the knees, subsequently give consideration to buying some thing with proportions along these lines Back-to-Wall Elongated 2-Piece Toilet. From back of wall surface for the forward-most tip of this toilet pan, this commode steps 30.5 inches — and that's perfect for large bathrooms. But keep in mind that this lavatory would feel cramped in many smaller one half bathrooms. Unlike the G-Max system which has rim openings covered along side entire rim, the VorTex Flush utilizes 2 huge plane gaps to flow h2o down to wash the pan with a sweeping vortex. But never too late when there will be a lot more 24 in commodes entering industry. Therefore it is a great chance to additionally discuss just how Galba is actually handling your competition and just why it has got ‘grown' much longer. So certainly, this tiny little Carus may well be THE awesome space-saving toilet for you if you have an incredibly small location. Get Galba Little Commode 24 5 Long X 135 Broad X 285 High Inches 1 The point that you're buying a tiny lavatory indicates you've got small area to spare for this. Make certain you double-check the compact lavatory measurements before you buy in order to prevent purchasing a big bathroom that you will have to go back. The most crucial measurement you ought to have could be the rough-in size. It is the duration through the middle regarding the commode to the wall surface. All of the lightweight lavatories reviewed in this essay tend to be highly rated, consequently you don’t have to worry about acquiring low quality. However, there might be a hundred or so dollars amongst the least expensive product towards the most costly. At only under 28″ in total, this single-piece unit is a good fit for tiny restrooms. One-piece toilets tend to be more costly when compared to two-piece products, however they possess their own advantages. They're easier to clean and they appear that little bit more contemporary and trendy. Commodes with intricate styles quietly associated with base harvest even more dirt and generally are therefore more difficult to clean. This unit is ADA Compliant, rendering it an ideal choice for you aren't disabilities. The T-0031 is a fashionable, single-piece lavatory that will be easy to completely clean. Its streamlined and sleek concept simply require a wipe with a damp cloth to help keep it searching as good as new for quite some time. Unlike the T-0001 which steps 16.5″ from floor to rim, the T-0031 merely steps 15.5″. This will be standard top seating and will be fine for many individuals. You should know that you can get limited lavatory but nonetheless have actually a high bathroom chair. Before buying a toilet, ensure you determine your bathrooms. The majority of bathrooms need a 12” harsh in, however some earlier restrooms could have a 10” or 14” rough-in. The AquaPiston canister permits drinking water to go into the bathroom . dish from all directions and thus increasing the energy and effectiveness associated with the flush. Although this will not conform to the minimum 17 inches chair level required by ADA, it's still quite simple to stay and stand from it. The Horow little toilet is actually a concise one-piece circular bathroom that's among the list of tiniest commodes, making it an excellent choice for little bathrooms. That provides you a good amount of power to make sure the pan is thoroughly clean. Because less drinking water can be used per flush, the container does not need to be as big as conventional designs. Lots of manufacturers utilize dual-flush technologies within their small commodes to truly save even more room. Dual-flush lavatories work if you take benefit of the law of gravity. They usually have a larger pitfall means, making it simpler for liquid to push waste down whenever flushing apparatus is initiated. The cool benefit of dual-flush systems is that you could pick how much h2o you use. This is because it flushes cleaner and better than the standard rim-holed concept. No scrubbing or waterjet-ing underneath the rim to pay off blockages. The brand new VorTex flushing program yields better performance while offering easier upkeeping as a result of the available dish rim. But never far too late when there will be now more 24 ins toilets getting into the marketplace. Therefore it is the possible opportunity to also talk about exactly how Galba is coping with the competition and exactly why it's ‘grown' longer. There is a large number of considerations before making the last choices. The thing with black colored commodes is you would have to transform anything else from inside the restroom like the sink and rest room paper hold generate a harmony. If you're looking for a compact black bathroom, The Kohler Santa Rosa could well be an ideal option for you. Kohler is the one lavatory manufacturer which makes and sell many black colored commodes. What about a green composting toilet or a bidet toilet for the people concerned with hygiene? We have even toilets lightweight enough to get with you for activities for example camping. To date, the tiniest lavatory I’ve found is 14 x 24.5 x 27 inch and efficiency is still there. So, locating an ADA requirement lightweight lavatory is not a difficult thing. 33 Little Bathroom Suggestions To Create Your Restroom Feel Heavier The wide base suggests it is hard to line-up the wax band whenever you put the bathroom . positioned. And some customers have seen problems with the crazy and screws supplied. If this is the toilet you select, obtain it installed by a professional local plumber. In general, a fantastic lavatory if you are eager and able to spend the cost. And make sure which you have at the least a 12-inch rough-in, or this commode won’t fit. Some stores will make you spend the delivery price of comes back, which could be very costly. Choose a shelf that’s simply adequate to suit a loaded huge towel. Put your towels in the first several shelves through the bottom. Utilize the remainder of these to put your soaps, hair shampoos, and fragrances. You could add floating shelves to make even more storage space space in a fashionable method. To get in touch this on bathroom, use the incorporated straight joint or even the 90-degree joint. Just like the installing the ventilation pipelines, you can easily hook up the urine tube so that no tube is seen where lavatory is actually put in. This can be attained by angling the 90-degree link downwards or utilizing the direct link, as found into the photos below. Separett small does not have any demands for room-temperature and really works in cool and comfortable rooms. The onlyrequirements are that you need to manage to lead the urine out and fit an air flow tube. In this manner, it uses no more than one gallon of water per flush. Did you know the typical average person uses approximately three years of their existence sitting on a bathroom? This simply describes the necessity of picking ideal bathroom, although it may seem like a mundane, run-of-the-mill item. Additionally, even though you don’t enjoy the luxury of experiencing extreme, spacious restroom, this doesn’t indicate that you need to get the very first lavatory that crosses the journey. While technically a mirror does not in fact produce room, it can produce the impression of space – hence can be equally effective! They work and are also plumbed just like routine gravity flush toilets. You might take a look at all of our corner lavatory ratings to learn more about all of them. One of the greatest difficulties with this particular toilet is it could be hard to put in and hook-up the plumbing system to them. When room reaches an important advanced, consider investing in little room characteristics that set priceless square video footage to be hired. Right here architecture and interior designer Szymon Hanczar performed exactly that in the compact studio apartment. Should you don’t desire the noise of a macerator, it is about the most lightweight loo on the market. The seat and seat cover tend to be plastic, which appears less attractive making use of the elaborate base and tank layout. For a classically designed restroom, we’d advise replacing them with wooden versions. There are several fiddly parts into design right here, with moulded details around the container and base. They’ll seem attractive within the proper bathroom, but you’ll have to be ready to go into the grooves when cleansing.

#24 Inch Toilets