#*shrugs* I dunno but they make me feel feelings and apparently I'm in a sharing mood

[marantis]

Currently on page 124 chapter 14 and, yeah Yan Xiaohan ist not beating the allegations of having been in love with Fu Shen for a while now. Dude's getting jealous and then ends up bitterly thinking that of course FS is not spending time with him.

Bro...

This is also right after FS has that dream about how they first met (from his side of things at least. There was this one Line earlier about YXH touch being somewhat familiar that is making me formulate suspicions)

Can't tell me YXH got tossed a very romantically coded flower while in duty thinking it was from FS and then returning it back to him with a smile and expect me not to assume that he probably started developing feelings then and there!

Also the way YXH ist just so soft with him all the time? Like boy, I can't with him, I really can't.

[lowkeyrobin]

could you write something where walker scobell and reader like each other, are super obvious about it but also super oblivious when it comes to knowing each others feelings? (bonus points if the cast of percy jackson is involved and all know about their feelings for each other)! 🎀

aweeee oh my lord yes!!! stop this is so fucking cute wtffff 😭🙏 ; thanks for requesting and I hope you enjoy!!! ; ALSO!! this features a random oc because apparently no one from the older cast other than Charlie and Aryan can be normal so 🤞, oc is supposed to be like a bg character for one of Luke's friends in the show anyways!!! ; sorry this turned out so bad after you waited so long for it LMAO

WALKER SCOBELL ; oblivious

summary ; youre both oblivious to each other's feelings, and your costars need to help push you together

warnings ; language

disclaimers ; I mentioned some stores/brands that I'm pretty sure are zionist corps, so please don't go support them! this is just a fanfic, don't see this as advertisement bc these places kinda suck anyways. free palestine and do your daily clicks on arab.org

word count ; 1.6k

masterlist

"You're so stupid," Aryan sighs, walking next to you toward the mall entrance.

Leah and Walker walk ahead of you two, both talking about whatever they wanted to do while they were here. Charlie and Jordan walk behind you, acting as your parental gaurdians because apparently at ages 14-17, you weren't responsible enough to walk around a mall yourselves and needed a pair of 19 year olds by your side.

"He doesn't like me, and I don't like him, Aryan. Get it through your thick skull" You chuckle.

"Uh huh" He nods sarcastically, rolling his eyes.

Walker and Leah quickly turn around, walking backwards. "Come on, we're going to Target!"

You and Aryan share a look and quickly chase after them, Charlie and Jordan walking behind all of you like uninterested parents.

You jog across the top floor of the mall and take the escalator down right in front of Target, heading for the interior doors. Leah, Walker, and Aryan head towards the children's toys aisles while you find yourself distracted in the music department. Charlie and Jordan walk around the store, just browsing while you younger teens do whatever. They weren't going to be responsible for any destruction.

You scan through the CDs, looking for anything you didn't have that you found interesting. You pick up a Conan Gray CD, one of his new album Found Heaven. You look to the left, seeing Walker quickly walking towards you, nearly walking into some lady's cart around a corner of one of the aisles.

"Hey." You chuckle, making it clear you saw him nearly get his hip busted by a middle-aged woman.

"Hi" The blonde smiles nervously, "What're you up to?"

You hold up the CD, "Browsing"

He nods, "I've never listened to him, should I?" He asks, beginning to flip through the CDs himself.

You look at him with slightly widened eyes. "Walker, how have you never listened to Conan Gray?..."

He shrugs, "I dunno"

"I'm forcing you to listen to him in the car."

"Okay, okay"

You continue looking through the CDs, seeing if they had anything else to your interest. For a split second, your shoulder brushes against his, considering you were standing so close.

You keep quiet, feeling your face heat up a bit. He feels the same way, unbeknownst to you. You nervously glance at each other, milliseconds apart so you never saw the opposite look.

"Walker, we found water guns!"

"They're so awesome, I could literally just stare at them all day while they talk about their favorite movie" The curly haired blonde smiles, slowly strolling down the lower half of the mall with Aryan and Leah at his side. "I don't think I've ever smiled and laughed so much than when I'm with them, seriously. Everything about them is so amazing, like, I could marry them here and now"

"And you said you don't have a crush on them," Leah states sarcastically, rolling her eyes. "You're something else"

"I don't have a crush on them!" Walker exclaims, the plastic bag in his hand slinging back and forth as he walked, spinning it around his fingers. "I was just describing what I like about them, yeesh"

The two look at him with similar expressions.

"You have a crush on them. Accept it, dude." Aryan sighs, patting Walker on the shoulder. "I'm like, 99% sure they feel the same way as well"

"Shut up!"

"Walker!"

"Quiet!"

You instantly connect the disembodied voice to your familiar blonde friend, having been grabbing a pretzel with Jordan and Charlie. You were stealing their money for food since you'd spent fifty dollars on CDs, plus an extra one for Walker. Thank God Charlie knew who his favorite band was, you'd wanted to get him an actual gift before you left for home tomorrow.

Jordan and Charlie sat down at one of the tables next to the big escalator in the middle of the mall, in clear earshot of the trio who just walked out of Bath and Body Works. They send a shared expression to Leah and Aryan, and they both nod back.

Walker doesn't notice, considering he was busy ranting about how he doesn't have a crush on you and was more focused on his body language and speaking with his hands then figuring out who or what his friends were looking at.

You walk to the table, get a look at the trio, their backs face towards you, and you hand Charlie and Jordan their food.

The two are oddly quiet as they munch down, which makes you question if they're conspiring against you. You ignore it, though, wanting to enjoy your pretzel while you had it.

Charlie and Jordan finally start conversation as you finish up your pretzel and soda, which you devoured. They were talking about some TV show they liked as you stood up, threw your garbage away, and headed toward the bathrooms. You leave the elder teens alone, walking down the dim side-hallway to the restrooms.

Charlie quickly pulls out his phone once your back was to them and calls Aryan. He was with Leah and Walker across the mall, where he and Leah had sneakily set Walker up to get you a little gift. The teens converse quietly and privately, not wanting their victims to hear.

"Yeah, he's inside with Leah, where's Y/n?"

"Restroom" Jordan answers, as they'd FaceTimed him. She pushes her dark hair away from her face as she speaks.

"Okay, where are you guys going next? We're going to Barnes and Noble back near you guys, on the top floor." Aryan informs

"Alright, we'll go fix my phone plan really quick and head over" Jordan nods, looking at Charlie for approval.

He nods as well, and quickly whispers bye as he hangs up. You walk back toward them with a light smile, asking where you were going next.

"We're gonna fuck around with my phone bill, and-"

"-Meet them at the food court!" Charlie finishes, trying to keep you and Walker apart for a moment. He sends a glance to Jordan, who pulls out her phone.

"Oh, okay" You shrug.

After joining Jordan to be a Karen to get her phone bill fixed, you three head up to the food court to meet up with Walker, Leah, and Aryan. As you sit down with them, they all make excuses to leave or go to different spots to get food. That leaves you and Walker at the table alone, both of you unable to start conversation.

You'd just eaten the biggest pretzel of your life, and it turns out he had a milkshake not too long ago. You both nervously smile at each other, biting your nails and fidgeting your fingers a bit. Aryan and Charlie watch from the Noodles and Company line, trying to see if you'd hand over your gifts for each other.

Right on queue, you decide to just give Walker the CD you'd gotten for him, not wanting to miss the sort-of-private opportunity to give it to him. You pull it out of the plastic bag that rests on the floor next to your feet. You hand it to him over the table, awaiting his reaction.

He quickly smiles and looks up at you. "Is that for me?"

"Duh"

He graciously accepts the gift, looking at it front and back over and over again. "How did you know I liked David Bowie?"

You shrug with a smug smile. "One, everyone likes Bowie, two, I know more about you than you think"

He playfully and lightly scoffs with a smile. "Thank you. Actually! That reminds me, I got you something too"

He reaches into the bag that sat next to him, and pulls out a few candy bars and bags, and slides them over the table for you. One of those is a lollipop shaped like a rose.

You smile and give him a warm thank you, laying your eyes on the Twizzlers for the most part.

"Y'know, I have a feeling I'm gonna like Conan Gray in the car"

"Oh, you will, trust me"

In the distance, Aryan and Charlie share looks.

"They're so head over heels for each other" Charlie sighs, "Can they just kiss already?"

Aryan nods, "We need to really push them together"

"How?"

"We'll ask Jordy and Leah"

"Sounds like a plan"

You and Walker sit side by side, smiles on your faces as you rest on the ledge of the fountain. You look back at all the silver and copper coins in the water, shimmering under the rippling water.

"And the whole thing exploded all over me! It was the dumbest thing ever"

You chuckle, listening to Walker talk about some science project exploding all over him in seventh grade.

"Y'know, you're like, really cool" He smiles, nervously glancing at Aryan.

You feel a smile tugging at your lips, "Oh, uhm, thank you. You're cool too, dude" You lightly punch his shoulder.

"No, like, cool cool" He clarifies.

You look over at your four friends, all wearing sunglasses, acting like they weren't spying on your conversation, on their phones or looking away nervously.

"Is this some kind of setup?"

"No!" He quickly replies, "I just, like, think you're really cool" He says, feeling too nervous to go out and ask the question or confess his feelings.

Leah groans and stands up, Aryan at her side.

"Just kiss already!" She says, throwing her hands in the air, "This show is too slow!"

"Kiss!" Aryan cheers, "Please! Do it already! It hurts to watch this anymore"

You look back at Walker, cheeks and ears as red as a stop sign.

Walker shrugs with a nervous look, which you share with him.

"Okay, well, I'm not kissing you on the ledge of a mall fountain"

"Yeah, I get that one"

[suzukiblu]

NaNoWriMo fic, day one: obligatory sugar daddy Tim/sugar baby Kon AU.

Tim Drake had absolutely no intentions of ever becoming anyone's sugar daddy when he met Superboy.

This would have worked out better for him if Superboy had ever had an actual legal identity or an actual legal guardian or just . . . literally anything whatsoever in life. Ever. At all.

Just a bank account, even.

"You're working for Cadmus," Tim says slowly. "Cadmus, as in the lab that stole Superman's body and cloned him without his consent. Cadmus, which you had to break out of so they couldn't put mind control code words in your head."

"Yeah," Superboy replies like that's not literally insane. Tim stares at him.

"Why?" he asks incredulously.

"Food and shelter?" Superboy shrugs. "And I mean, I dunno, where else am I gonna go?"

Tim is not okay with this situation.

"What did Superman say?" he says.

"Just to like, keep an eye on things," Superboy says with another shrug. "Make sure they're not up to anything shifty."

Tim stares at him.

"Superman," he says. "Told you to just . . . 'keep an eye on' the dubiously ethical cloning lab. The specific dubiously ethical cloning lab that tried to put mind control code words in your head. Specifically."

"Yeah," Superboy confirms.

Alright, Tim is actually even less okay with this situation than he thought, apparently. Like, impressively less.

"Okay," he says. It is absolutely no kind of okay in any way whatsoever, of course, but he doesn't want to put Superboy on the defensive. That'd make effectively interrogating him a lot harder, for one thing. Cooperative subjects are best in these situations. "What are they paying you?"

"I mean, like, they gave me my own room and they're feeding me and whatever, so I don't really need much money," Superboy says. "There's a discretionary fund I can use if I need to go on an undercover mission or anything like that? But I'm not really the undercover type anyway."

"Sure," Tim says. So . . . no way for Superboy to save up to move out and get an out-of-lab life, then. Great. That's not fucked-up or crazy or horrible at all. "Do you like it there?"

"It's okay," Superboy says, shrugging again. "Better than literally everybody in Hawaii yelling at me every time they see my face, yeah?"

Tim wants to set the world on fire, but he's trying really hard not to go supervillain before he's thirty and he'd hate to throw out all that hard work.

"They just let me do whatever, mostly," Superboy adds. "They don't really care as long as I'm around when they need me."

He'll go supervillain as soon as Bruce dies, Tim promises himself. Just–he'll give his share of the eulogy at the funeral and then he'll blow up three-fourths of Arkham and the entire GCPD while Commissioner Gordon is on his lunch break. He can time that out, that'll be easy. And then he'll go and personally murder the Joker with the very specific combination of a rusty crowbar and a shrapnel bomb, and then he'll just . . . well, he'll just go with the flow from there, he figures. Do whatever feels natural.

Seriously, the world as it is does not deserve to exist. It really just does not.

Tim figures he can probably convince the rest of Young Justice to tag along for the whole supervillain thing and hopefully Dick and Steph and Barbara too, and ideally also Alfred, in the unfortunately likely event that he outlives Bruce. He's got time to lay the groundwork with them all and all, and also everything really is awful and horrible and really does deserve to burn.

"Are they sending you to school or anything? Or tutoring you?" Tim asks with what little scraps of hope he has left. Higher education would be . . . well, something, at least. And actually it probably wouldn't hurt for Superboy to learn a bit more about genetic engineering from the same place he got genetically engineered, just in case anything goes wrong with his DNA again. Cadmus should at least be good for that much, right?

"Ew, no, thank fuck," Superboy says, making a face. "Like I said, they mostly let me do whatever until something needs punched."

So . . . no furthered education or learning any usable job skills or making real money or literally anything that could, again, lead to Superboy ever getting any kind of an actual out-of-lab life established.

Great.

Just great.

"I see," Tim says.

"It's a pretty sweet gig, considering," Superboy says, and grins brightly at him. It's a very nice grin. Normally being faced with that particular grin would make Tim need to beat down the highly unprofessional urge to kiss it.

Right now, though, he's a little bit more concerned with the fact that his teammate is just . . . living in and working for a fucking lab. As a matter of course. Just as a thing.

And Superman of all people thinks that's . . . fine, for some reason? Like, normal and ethical and okay? Somehow? In some way?

What the actual fuck, Tim thinks to himself.

"You said Superman told you to keep an eye on things?" he asks.

"Yeah," Superboy says, his grin widening. "He took me to his fortress and asked me to do it there. Showed me around a bit, too."

"That sounds really interesting," Tim says, wondering in vague disbelief if that means Superman had never taken Superboy to the Fortress of Solitude before. He must've, right? And just . . . inexplicably not shown Superboy around then.

Yeah. Sure.

"It was awesome!" Superboy says with more enthusiasm than Tim's seen from him since they met Nina Dowd's . . . endowments, seemingly forgetting the need to be "cool" for long enough to lean forward in his seat and outright beam at him. Tim is gonna need a minute to recover from the sight of that expression, probably. "It's seriously freaking freezing up there, but there's so much cool shit in the place. Like, from all over the universe, but from Krypton, even! The only thing I'd ever seen from Krypton before was kryptonite!"

Tim considers moving up his supervillain timeline after all. Like. Just possibly. Just a little.

Maybe he can convince Bruce to take an early retirement off-planet and just go from there.

What the hell is wrong with Superman?

"Oh, wow, really?" Tim says, simultaneously pretending he didn't already know what Superman has in his fortress and trying not to be screamingly obvious about the internal calculations he's running on figuring out how to weaponize red sunlight. Or like, maybe he could look into learning some magic. That's technically an option. Probably more time-consuming and harder to hide the process of, though. Still, it's on the table.

"Yeah. He showed me some of it. Told me some stories and stuff, even," Superboy says, and that excited grin turns just a little bit shy and soft and somehow even more distracting than usual. He ducks his head just a little, and then that soft grin is more like a soft smile, and Tim suffers. "And I, uh–and he gave me something, too."

"What did he give you?" Tim asks, praying to God that the answer is "an emergency contact number" or "an allowance that can cover a semi-decent Metropolis apartment" or "an offer to live literally anywhere but Cadmus, including in the thirtieth century or on a hostile alien planet or inside an active volcano". He's technically an atheist, so the praying thing is probably moot, but times of desperation are times of desperation.

"A name," Superboy says, and his smile widens helplessly. "Like, you know, a real one."

Tim might hate Superman, he thinks. That might actually be a thing now.

Yeah, he's definitely going supervillain after Bruce dies and doesn't need an emotional support sidekick anymore. Better start stocking up on the kryptonite.

"That's great," he says with a very carefully not-forced smile of his own instead of anything more along the lines of "wait, you've been alive and active as a superhero for all this time and no one ever actually named you?!" Superboy would probably take it the wrong way, not in the least because that genuinely never actually occurred to him as being a thing before. Like–he really did just assume Superboy was keeping a lid on whatever his real name was for personal reasons or Superman reasons or something. "Are you allowed to tell me it, or is that a no-go?"

"Oh, yeah," Superboy says with a sheepish laugh, rubbing at his arm. "It's like, a Kryptonian name? Not like a secret identity one. It's, uh, Kon-El."

Of course it's not even a damn secret identity, Tim thinks in absolute frustration and abject loathing. Of course not! Why would it be?! Fuck forbid!

"I like it," he says, because he lies to Batman and therefore there is no fucking way that he's going to let Superboy–Kon–see any sign whatsoever of the metaphorical 9.9 on the Richter scale that is currently happening in his psyche. "It suits you."

"You think?" Kon grins all the wider. Tim can't even calm down enough to want to kiss him, except in the sense that he always wants to kiss him.

"I do," he says, and smiles at him again.

Kon smiles back.

Tim hates everything. All the things. There is nothing that Tim doesn't hate right now, except maybe Alfred's snickerdoodles because he might be having a nervous breakdown but he's not, like, criminally insane or whatever.

Yet.

"Yeah, it's kinda cool," Kon says, straightening up in his seat and then leaning back, clearing his throat and slipping his sunglasses back on like they're not in a literal cave right now. Tim doesn't call him on it, because he has a supervillain timeline to work out and that's much more important.

Also because the teammate he has an inadvisable crush on is in a much, much shittier situation than he ever realized and he has to reconcile that with his worldview and also his opinion of Superman. Tim doesn't especially idolize the man except in the sense of knowing he's one of the greatest heroes on Earth and a very, very good man that Bruce thinks incredibly highly of, one of the best men on the League and maybe even on the planet, but . . .

But if he's such a good man, then why the hell is Kon living in a lab that tried to mind-control him and why has he only just seen the Fortress of Solitude for the first time?

Why didn't he have a real name?

"So do we call you Kon or Kon-El now?" Tim asks, which is a bit of a senseless question but also at least a bit of a distraction. He wants to say this whole situation is a horrible idea, who the FUCK convinced you this situation was a good idea?!, but there is no possible way that Kon would respond well to that. Ever.

Also, Kon had a point. Where else is he gonna go?

Clearly not the Fortress of Solitude.

Seriously, would it be that hard for Superman to give him a room there? At least a place to stay sometimes, so he wasn't exclusively relying on the mind-control cloning lab for food and shelter and basic comforts?

"I think just Kon?" Kon says, frowning consideringly. "'El' is like Superman's last name, I guess? So I think just Kon."

"Makes sense," Tim says, internally seething. Superman gave him the "El" name but not a secret identity? A name from a dead civilization with a bit of sentimental value, maybe, but nothing usable on this planet? Fuck, you'd think Kon didn't already know his secre–

. . . Kon doesn't know Superman's secret identity, does he.

Tim had thought he was lying, when he'd said that stuff about Superman not having one, before. Thought it was supposed to be a cover or a misdirection or something. But Kon actually thinks that, doesn't he. And Superman has just . . . kept letting him think that.

Becoming a supervillain actually might be an underreaction, in retrospect.

"Just Kon sounds less formal anyway," Tim says instead of so just in theory, do you think tactile telekinesis could trigger a heart attack or stroke in a full-blooded Kryptonian, if you could REALLY concentrate on doing it? like not FATALLY, just dehabilitatingly?, because he still has some groundwork to do before they get that far into potential supervillainy. There's steps to the plan. The steps need to be followed. They're very important steps. "You don't want Bart full-naming you every time he's looking for the remote."

"Like he'd even bother, it's faster for him to turn the living room upside-down than actually ask anyway," Kon says with a laugh, dropping his head back on his neck. Tim has some thoughts about climbing into his lap and figuring out if the TTK makes him hickey-proof, and then buries them. Not appropriate. Not professional. Just not.

. . . technically, if Kon wanted a hickey, he could just let his TTK down and ask for–

Tim buries his thoughts deeper.

Much, much deeper.

"Point," he says. "So what time does Cadmus expect you back?"

"Dude, it's a job, not a boarding school," Kon says, giving him an amused look. "I don't have a curfew."

Tim, technically, hasn't followed his own curfew any way but accidentally once in his entire life, but for god's sake, is Cadmus even pretending to be raising a teenager or are they really just being that flagrant about ignoring all the child labor laws they so clearly do not give a fuck about? Like, there must be something illegal about this. There has to be.

If there's not, Tim will be adding "burn down Project Cadmus" to his list of supervillain plans to set up in advance. In red pen. Underlined.

Twice.

God, why is the world like this. Why are people like this?

"I guess that'd be convenient," Tim says, internally ranking various methods of combustion. "Though I guess it depends on the cafeteria hours, too."

"It's whatever, I can always eat later," Kon replies with a shrug. "I think I've still got a couple protein bars in my room anyway."

"Just protein bars?" Tim asks, mentally upping the amount of explosives he was considering going with. Cadmus is going to be a crater by the time he's done with it. "Don't you need more calories than that?"

". . . well, sort of," Kon says, folding his arms and looking very briefly embarrassed. "Superman doesn't have to eat, apparently, but, uh, guess I'm not Kryptonian enough for that. Actually I kinda need to eat more than normal humans, it's weird. Like. A lot more."

"I'm ordering pizza," Tim says, upping his mental explosives count again. "What do you want on it?"

"We're the only ones here," Kon says, looking puzzled.

"More pizza for us, then," Tim says.

[incoherentbabblings]

Could you make a little fic out of one of these with the lovebirds? I'm feeling a little down.

https://www.tumblr.com/creativepromptsforwriting/742313667363749888/love-languages?source=share

(Preferably with number four)

Hi anon! I hope this suits. I am sorry I have not written more or something more deep.

This is set sometime pre Detective Comics Rebirth, prior to Tim and Steph beginning dating, but post Batman Eternal, with Stephanie joining the batfam full time. Enjoy!

"You always know how to make me laugh."

Of all the places Tim expected to find Stephanie, lingering outside her old family home was not placing very high on the list.

She was sitting on the curb, knees tucked under her chin, blue eyes as wide as dinner plates. She looked very small.

Tim made no attempt to hide his approach, not wanting to startle her, as he crunched on fallen leaves, bent down with a sigh, and joined Stephanie on the ground. They sat in silence for a little while before Stephanie sniffed, brushing at her eyes and removing any hint of unfallen tears.

“What’s up?” she asked, voice decidedly rough.

“You didn’t turn up for training earlier.”

“Oh.” Unfurling, just a little, she shrugged lopsidedly. “I forgot.”

“That’s not like you.”

She hummed, then rested her chin on her knees. “How’d you find me?” she asked instead.

Tim was too quick when he replied, “Stalked you.”

He instantly realized how off color his joke was. Stephanie could feel him stiffen next to her, what little color he had leaching from his pale cheeks. 

She did not care, finding the joke genuinely humorous (perhaps being a Gothamite made such things an inevitability). Tim and his tendency for surveillance was indeed a little invasive. It was also a little funny.

So she laughed. A dignified snort, a rushing of wind out her nose. Tim’s eyes widened, not having heard such a thing from her before.

“That easy to do, huh?” she teased right back.

“You weren’t trying to hide,” he explained gently, moving past his bad joke. “You left behind your phone.”

Stephanie took the device from Tim’s outstretched hand. She unlocked it out of habit, noticing the notifications asking for her welfare.

There was one person who had not called for her in a long time. One that she, somewhere and somehow, hoped to meet again one day.

“I don’t know,” she began unprompted. “I wanted to see who lives in my house now. If they have a better life.”

Tim looked at the home across the street. “And?”

“I dunno. They’re both out at work,” she grumbled, leaning forward and hiding her face from view. “I don’t know what I’m doing, you know? I…”

“You miss your mom?”

Her voice was very small when she replied.

“Yeah. I suppose.”

She wasn’t sure if she liked how easily Tim had understood what she was doing out here. Too vulnerable.  

Tim took her hand, the one that he could grab, and stood up. Swinging their conjoined fingers back and forth, he smiled at her confused face.

“Come somewhere with me?” he offered, holding out his other hand. 

It wasn’t as if she did not enjoy spending time alone with Tim - what little they had actually managed to have - but Stephanie was reluctant. She was always too fond of stewing in her own thoughts. Conflict avoidant or knee deep in resentment, it seemed she only had two switches.

Tim’s open hand seemed to offer another option on the dial.

Stephanie reached up and took Tim’s right hand. His palm was warm and dry, and when he pulled her to her feet, he did so smoothly, with seemingly little effort. And yet it was so gentle that letting go of his hands nearly made her trip, a loss of an anchor point that she wanted back.

“How’d you get here?” Tim asked, apparently oblivious to the effect he had on her.

“I walked.”

“Oh good, you can ride then.”

“Ride what?”

“Me - with me,” he corrected with a terrible stumble. “The bike.”

Stephanie laughed again, grinning when they approached his cycle. She took the helmet he offered gracefully, with little more than a knowing nod. 

I could say something if I wanted to. I won’t though, because I’m being nice and trying not to ruin the mood.

She didn’t want to tease Tim. It felt morally wrong at that moment, somehow.

Just as Tim had been a solid thing to cling to whilst pulling herself to her feet, so was he a warm block to wrap her arms around as they weaved through Gotham. They left behind leafy green suburbia for the darker stone constructions, heading deeper and deeper into town.

They stopped at the Old Wayne Tower.

“What?” Stephanie asked, returning her helmet to Tim.

“I wanna show you the restoration work I’ve started. It’ll be good to have an extra pair of hands.”

“I’m not much of a handyman. That’s Harper’s job.”

Tim looked confused, tilting his head in a manner that reminded Stephanie of a puppy.

“I can teach you.”

“No, but you can ask her instead. Save a few steps and time.”

This only served to confuse Tim more.

“But-I want you, not her.”

Another pause as the two absorbed what he had spat out.

Then, Stephanie asked, very quietly and cautiously, “Another bad joke?”

The panic in Tim’s eyes was undeniable. “I - no. No, I mean. I want you to help me. If you want. I mean.”

Cheeks warming pink to contrast Tim’s increasingly gray pallor, Stephanie giggled, actually spinning in a circle and returning to the bike, if only for something to lean on.

Fine, she would tease him. Being cautious could only get her so far. 

“You always know how to make me laugh.”

“It’s really not intentional,” he choked out.

The urge to flirt was overwhelming. “I just have that effect on you, huh?”

Poor Tim looked on the verge of an aneurysm. 

“Look, it… Do you want to see or not?”

Laughing at his indignation, Stephanie moved close and took Tim’s hand once again. This time it was a bit sweatier. She pulled it up and kissed the back of it, immediately noting that Tim’s breathing stuttered to a complete halt. It then resumed slow and steady, and their hands slowly lowered back to their resting point.

A grin spread across Tim’s face, far wider and more joyful than Stephanie had ever seen before. When he pulled at her hand, leading her inside, it felt very much like a little child, eager to show off their newest drawing from school.

It was a feeling worth following.

[nativestarwrites]

How did you get the idea for your former big bang fic? Anything you want to share about it?

Thank you for the question! I love this wip and I've neglected it far too much! I started thinking about this a few weeks after I got into Ted Lasso last year, it doesn't feel that long ago but apparently it was in June! So I'm a little sketchy on the exact origin but I remember I wanted to write something that dealt with the scene in the finale with his father in a less superficial way.

The fic is more or less built around this line by James in my version of that rehab meeting.

"‘They won’t want you when you’re no longer their star player. I’ll always be your dad, but your team won’t be when you’re not playing anymore.”

And a series of events make Jamie start to think there's a kernel of truth to that as the new season starts. Things get worse, and there's some reasons why Jamie doesn't share how he's feeling with the team, but when they find out he learns he has value beyond being the star player and he's still their friend even if he never kicks a winning goal again.

It's sitting at just over 10k but I haven't looked at it for months because When Darkness Falls took over most of my writing time but I do want to go back to it. I think my outlining skills have improved from working on When Darkness Falls so I'd like to see what I can do with it with fresh eyes.

I've put a snip of one of my favourite scene behind the cut, it's just after Jamie's visited his dad right at the start.

He stands in the bright sunshine, flexing his hands compulsively, he doesn’t quite know what to do with them, doesn’t quite know what to do with himself, and he thrusts his fists into his pockets where he feels the warm plastic fob of his car keys inside the pocket. Car. Right. Time to make the long journey back home he guesses, there’s nothing worth sticking around for here.

Except, somehow there’s someone leaning against his car and he must be seeing things because its a very familiar silhouette and he only knows one person daft enough to wear all black and a leather jacket on a hot day like today but it most definitely looks like none other than Roy Kent leaning against his car.

“What the fuck are you doing here?”

“Waiting for you.” Roy answers. Like they’re in Nelson Road’s car park instead of one that’s a three hour drive away.

“Thought you didn’t agree with me going to see my dad.”

“I didn’t. I don’t. Doesn’t mean I was going to let you do it by yourself though.” Roy pauses and Jamie makes an effort to unclench his hands and relax his shoulders even though there’s every chance that Roy’s already noticed the tension he’s carrying. “How’d it go?”

Jamie shrugs a shoulder. “Dunno what I was expecting.”

“Wanna talk about it?”

“No.”

This time Roy’s the one relaxing. There’s something about the familiarity of Roy not wanting to talk about emotions that’s actually really fucking comforting to Jamie and his gut unclenches slightly. If there’s one person he can rely on to not make him talk about his emotions it’s Roy.

“You hungry?” Roy asks.

Jamie raises a shoulder in a shrug. Breakfast had been a long time ago and the protein bar he’d had on the way up here hadn’t done much, but he still doesn’t really feel like eating, it’s more a sense that he should eat.

“Good.” Roy replies as if Jamie’s actually given him an answer. “There’s a decent steak place not far from here according to Google.”

“Whatever.”

“Gimme your keys.” Roy orders reaching out a hand with an impatient wiggle.

Jamie mutters control freak under his breath even as he throws the keys to Roy. He’d complain about it more except he really doesn’t fancy driving right now, doesn’t really trust himself behind the wheel if he’s being honest. He didn’t sleep well last night and he feels like its all deciding right now is the time for it to catch up with him.

“Wait, how’d you get here?” He asks as his head swivels around, looking for the black G-Wagon and finding nothing in sight. “Did you—?” But Jamie can’t finish, because the idea that Roy Kent took public transport to get here simply so he could drive Jamie home is too bizarre a thought to say out loud. Roy evidently agrees because he just growls sightly.

“Stop gawping and get in the fucking car."

[affectionatelyrs]

2023 Writing Roundup

Thank you to @anincompletelist @happiness-of-the-pursuit @hgejfmw-hgejhsf @littlemisskittentoes @rockyroadkylers @songliili and @xthelastknownsurvivorx for the tags

*Taps mic* is this thing on? Yeah? Great. Allow me to be somewhat sappy for a moment then.

I started writing in August of this year. As in, I haven't written fic/majorly creatively ever before this, and it's something that I never thought I would do. Until I did. And my goodness... I'm so insanely grateful that I decided to start. Writing has given me so much purpose - It's something I genuinely adore; it makes me incredibly happy that I get to share my words with all of y'all, and the people I've met have been so incredibly lovely. So, without further ado, here's what I've written in 2023! :)

January through July

Nothing, I was just an avid reader

August

Far too Enamored to be Content Now | M | 2k | One Shot

"You've been rather quiet all evening, H," Alex muses, trailing one long finger up the expanse of Henry's neck, higher, higher, high, until it lingers over his bottom lip. Taps it with the pad a few times. "Why don't you use that pretty mouth of yours to tell me what you want then, hmm?" Alex is expecting Henry's lips to pucker, their typical automatic response to this action. What he is not expecting, however, is the way Henry's lips slightly part before taking his finger slowly into his mouth and sucking, never once breaking eye-contact. - Henry is bloody starving.

You Came Out of Nowhere (And You Cut through All the Noise) | E | 10.9k | One Shot (with a bonus chapter)

Alex starts to feel worse about how he reacted to the man earlier — he’s usually all bark and no bite, but how is the bartender supposed to know that? Alex can be snarky, but he’s never cruel. Allowing his lips to quirk up into a small smile, he replies “Yeah. Yeah, I’m fine. Thank you, really.” “Well,” he says with a smirk, “in the event that you are lying to me simply to placate our earlier interaction, my shift ends in 15 minutes. I don’t suppose you’d be willing to stick around to chat with a perfect stranger?” Alex’s brain stutters for a moment at his facade being so transparent that it's all he can do to stutter out a “Yeah—um, yeah. Okay, sure.” Maybe he also gets stuck on the words perfect stranger, and the immediate thought of mmmm, perfect indeed that pops up in his brain as a result. He chooses to ignore that as well. - Or, Alex is feeling insecure after a bad date - Henry shows him that he doesn't have to be

September

All of This Silence and Patience (Pining and Anticipation) | T | 5.1k | One Shot

“I didn’t know that you were—” he cuts himself off, sliding a hand over his face. “I, um. Shit, sorry. I just meant, uh… Christ—” Alex saves Henry some breath by cutting him off. “Bi? Sure am.” “Since when?” Is Henry’s only response. Apparently, being in dangerously close proximity to pretty boys makes him a bit dim. Whatever. He’ll have time to reflect on this and feel utterly mortified later. Alex does the following in slow succession: smirks, cocks an eyebrow, looks Henry up and down once, and shrugs a shoulder. “I dunno. Suppose that’s a bit hard to pin down, sweetheart.” - Or, Alex (flirty) and Henry (flustered) are both hiding in a closet at a party for different reasons

Baby, You're Gonna Lose Your Own Game | E | 4k | One Shot

Alex thinks he understands why people get stupid, impulsive tattoos like their ex’s name now if the sudden urge to etch the word darling onto his hip in permanent ink is anything to go by. So, yeah, Alex supposes. Henry may still be maddening, but his mouth? His voice? Maybe it was always hot, actually, and the irritation he previously felt was just thinly veiled complete and utter attraction. That would check out. Hate has always been a multifaceted word, after all. - Or, Alex decides that he wants to fuck the British out of Henry while watching him speak at a gala

October

King of My Heart | E | 8.5k | One Shot

Alex, as always, is utterly captivating. He accepts his crown with grace and a crooked grin; it’s a duality that only he can pull off. Alex’s megawatt smile is brighter than the hundreds of multicolored shards of light reflecting off the mirrorball in the center of the room. Henry knows that Alex looks good on stage, he knows that Alex knows that he looks good on stage, and apparently, everyone else knows it as well. Henry thinks he sees a girl faint at the sight out of the corner of his eye. And yet, no one knows about Alex and him. Everyone in the crowd wants Alex, but it’s a losing battle — Henry already won that fight a couple of weeks ago. - Or, When Alex wins Prom King, Henry sneaks him away for a moment alone and realizes that his feelings may run deeper than their clandestine hookups suggest

Help Me Hold On to You | T | 3.2k | One Shot

“I can’t do this all the time, Alex,” Henry huffs out, arms crossed from the opposite end of the couch. “I’ve been more than happy to help, and I’ve been doing so as much as I can, but we need to talk about it. It’s been…a lot for me.” Too much. Henry doesn’t say it directly, but it’s the undercurrent of his words. Two words that Alex has heard many times in his life, over and over again until they became permanently pressed into his eyelids like a brand, reminding him of his state of being every time he so much as blinks. - Or, Henry isn't always able to give Alex the help he needs, which sends Alex into a spiral, but they'll always find a way to work things out together

November

Save a Horse, Ride a Princess | E | 8.6k | One Shot

“I have to say, this is all quite literal, don’t you think?” Alex wouldn’t know literal right now if it hit him in the head. “Huh?” Henry points at Alex: “Pillow Princess,” and then to himself: “Cowboy. Ready to ride and all that.” Alex nods dumbly. “Right.” - Or, Alex and Henry dress up as the ultimate couples costume for Halloween — themselves — and they both feel some kind of way about it

December

Gonna Give You Something (So You Know What’s on My Mind) | E | 11.3k | Two Shot

Alex hums, turning around to pull open the freezer drawer. “You want anything?” But Henry barely registers his question. Not when Alex is slightly bent over, allowing Henry a perfect view of his perfect ass. Each individual ridge of his spine is visible due to his lack of shirt. All of these things combined would normally be a large enough issue in itself to render Henry dumbstruck, except— Except, that’s not the only thing that Henry’s faced with. Right there, clear as day: blue lace, delicately peeking out from the waistband of his joggers. Henry’s hand immediately flies up to his cheek. The skin is hot to the touch, and he feels the imprint of where the material once lay like a brand. - Or, With the help of a white elephant gift, Henry learns that maybe the whole being-in-love-with-his-roommate thing isn’t as one-sided as he thought

Coming Soon

Double shot - my first ever multichap! :) Featuring sexting, falling in love in a coffee shop, and learning a lot about oneself - I'm incredibly excited for this one

Walk and Talk - a long one shot - College AU, irl epistolary, the literal act of walking and talking out of class and getting to know someone - this has been in the works for months

Henry is a painting (untitled) - Magical realism - Alex has a painting of a prince in his bedroom and one day it talks - a series of their conversations at night time in Alex's room, introspection, discussions of mental health, and falling in love

A secret birthday fic for @happiness-of-the-pursuit

A valentines day fic - Magical realism, Henry can see other people's future love lives and sets up shop on campus - Alex visits one day and Henry see's something he's never been able to see in his visions... himself

Coming... Eventually

Soulmate AU, beach at night, 5+1 love confession through non-verbal cues, companion fic to AOTSAP, and more

THANK U SO MUCH TO EVERYONE AGAIN. I genuinely couldn't do this without you. Fic and RWRB and all of y'all mean so fucking much to me. Thank you for an amazing year, and I'm so excited for what's to come

Tagging other ppl and literally anyone whose fics have ever inspired me bc y'all are so important - @kiwiana-writes @inexplicablymine @read-and-write- @clottedcreamfudge @everwitch-magiks @smc-27 @welcometololaland @whimsymanaged @tintagel-or-cockleshells @iboatedhere @indomitable-love @orchidscript @onward--upward @sparklepocalypse @dumbpeachjuice @dustratcentral @dustratcentral @firenati0n @gayrootvegetable @leaves-of-laurelin @lizzie-bennetdarcy @cultofsappho @cricketnationrise @nocoastposts @myheartalivewrites @matherines and @rmd-writes

[jedigloomy]

I had the coolest dream (and slightly scary)

Man, I gotta tell you about this dream I had. I literally just woke up, so I have to write it down before I forget.

I'm not really sure where I was, but in my room there was this massive hole in the wall. Don't ask why I wasn't afraid of it, I guess I just had balls of steel. Anyway, I was with a friend and we were discussing this hole. He told me it was weird we had one in the wall and took out his phone and shone a light through it. I didn't personally see anything, but he claimed he saw a pair of eyes that were reflecting the light or whatever. I was obviously a little freaked out by this.

The dream then skips to my bestie and I chatting with the landlord -- I guess we were renting this place. He has handed us this bill that had both a landline and our regular phones. We both argued that we did, in fact, not have a landline. But he brushed us off and told us to pay the bill.

The dream skips again to me just standing by myself in the room with the hole. I have my back facing it and this fucked up looking creature comes crawling out of it. He got behind me and knocked my ass out. The best way I can kind of explain this thing is he had the same face as the mayor in A Nightmare Before Christmas.

That dude, but his limbs were waaaaay longer, and he was more... disheveled. I don't know how to explain him. Anyway, the dream skips again to me on the phone with my dad, and I'm explaining everything to him.

I told him about how there was a section of this massive house we didn't go to. We called it a super cool name, but I can't remember what it was. These next few parts are going to be a bit jumbled because I can't remember the entire dream (I'm starting to forget some details now ☹️).

But I was explaining to my dad about the phone bill we were paying and how we didn't own the landline. Then I looked down at the ground and the creature was curled up in a ball, dead. So, while my ass was knocked out, someone had come in and killed it. I didn't seem to know who, or maybe I woke up before I could spill the deets to my dad. Either way, homie was dead as fuck.

I then started to explain the forbidden zone of the house. My dad, being the only normal one in the dream it seems, asks why there's a whole section of the house that's closed off to the rest of the occupants. I shrug it off like it's no big deal and say I don't know, we just can't go in it. I think I also told him about this massive hole in the wall, but I can't remember.

Along the way, I started to formulate this idea of who this creature was and why there was a landline charge on my phone bill. However, it felt like I knew this part of the plot, not the person who I was playing -- it was like real life Sunni was given parts of the plot, but not dream Sunni. So, apparently, this creature was a corrupt judge and the forbidden part of the house was where he operated with a bunch of other people.

The landline was being used to do some sketchy shit and to hide their tracks, they had added it to my phone bill so I would pay for it, and I guess I wouldn't notice it? No idea the logic behind that decision. Anyway, something horrible happened and this corrupt judge was turned into this horrible creature. I had this feeling there were more creatures in the forbidden zone, and there was this massive secret that I was about to uncover. But I woke up before my dream self could uncover the entire plot.

But yeah, I'm sad I didn't get to solve the mystery of the landline phone or the origins of the fucked up judge dude. That dream was one of my cooler ones and I kinda want to make a story out of it. I dunno. Either way, that was a cool-ass dream and I wanted to share it here.

[kaija-rayne-author]

When I finally manage to get BG3, I think Astarion is probably going to be the big one for me, broken sex neg chaotic elf vampire? He could be custom crafted for my likes. Angst and snark? 😍 I really do love elves. And vampires, which if you've read my books you probably already know that about me. Oh and the angstier the romance the better as long as I eventually get my HEA/HFN.

More blathering 😅 below the cut.

I'm looking forward to playing it for more than the characters. I played and adored the first two, though I honestly preferred Champions of Norath for mechanics. I've been role playing in video games and ttrpg for most of my life. Role playing as a 'normal' person ever since I figured out that I was definitely not the same as neurotypical people. Reasonably sure many autistic/ADHD folks share the experience. I'm looking forward to seeing what they did with the city and story.

Buuuut, I also thought I'd love Fenris from DA2 and I really ended up almost loathing him.

I've got ptsd, it's some of the most ridiculous stereotypical rep I've seen, I don't even drink! Many people with ptsd don't! And of course they haaaad to go with the alcoholic shut in when he's not murdering people thing. Ugh! Fenris is also so freaking mean. I didn't romance him at all because of it, but if you can't see a character's growth without romancing them, it's not very good characterization. He's especially vicious to Merrill, who is just so sweet and doesn't deserve to be talked to like that. Honestly, no one does. Wonderful growly voice which would do things to me if the character weren't so objectively awful, but a voice, even to a voice slut like me, isn't enough.) Yes, stereotypes do exist for a reason, but it's also why stereotypical rep is bad!

So I dunno, maybe I'll be right and Astarion will work for me. I also love the meaning of his name. 'Little star' from the Greek. It's been on my list as a future character name for years.

But Karlach might work depending on her personality. Gale is just pathetic enough from what I've seen to make me like him.

I dunno who it'll be tbh. I'm polyam too, so being able to be polyam in that game is a huge attraction for me. (Unfortunately, apparently you can't do that with Astarion and Karlach.)

Honestly, I don't get why everyone is so excited about having sex with Halsin in bear form. Have you seen bear penis? Thin, not very short for most species, and they have a bone in them. A bacula is what penis bones are called and humanoids notably do not have them anymore. The largest bear we know of currently is the badly endangered polar bear, and their baculas are roughly 7 inches long. That doesn't exactly scream it's gonna feel great, y'know? At least, 😅, not to me. All y'all do you. I'm not trying to kink shame.

It's just not a factor of attraction for me. TBH, I haven't seen much about Halsin at all. Which is kinda surprising given the fuss about 'sex in bear form' thing.

And yes, I'm very well aware how odd it may be for an aro/ace person to enjoy romance novels and games so much. It makes sense to me (sometimes) in a game or on page. It doesn't make sense in real life for me. I'm a sex positive ace, I can enjoy it with the right emotional or intellectual (ideally both) connections.

I'm also autochorisexual, so it makes sense that way too. I'm far more likely to fall for a fictional character than a living person.

Ugh. I wish I didn't have to wait for this game. But my birthday is coming up and I'm hopeful someone will get it for me. If not, I'll have to keep wishing. I'm still looking for a job, but it’s really not going well very quickly at all.

Shrugs. Everyone seems to act like aro/aces all hate romance and sex but that's definitely not been my experience. Some of us are sex neg, I have good friends who are, but I've talked to far more sex neutral or sex positive aces.

I really wish people valued creativity enough to pay for it more frequently. Just a living wage. That's legit all most creatives want. Enough money to pay the bills every month.

[lianahayze]

Shadow and the Midnight Misery: Chapter 10

Hi all, welcome to chapter 10--we're in the double-digits now! It's been a minute since chapter 9, so feel free to check it out here, and, if you're new to these parts, you can find the masterlist here. Content under the cut; enjoy!

Chapter 10: Time with Dean

"Wow, it's a miracle; you'll actually alive!" Dean wraps his arms around me as I let him in. Instead of us going out to dinner (and potentially being seen and harassed), I’d instead just invited him over and ordered sushi. It seemed a bit easier than making myself presentable enough to be seen in public. Going to the Garver Institute is one thing, but I need to be careful when I actually go anywhere. I might be photographed, and I do not feel like dealing with the paparazzi right now.

Dean kicks off his shoes. "So, what's good?" He walks into the kitchen. I trail behind him slightly, trying to figure out what to say.

"I had an interview recently. You were brought up."

He rolls his eyes. "Again? Dude, people keep asking me about you, too. Hope it didn't derail the whole thing?"

Leaning against the counter, I shake my head. "Nah, it was fine. Just the usual stuff."

Noticing all the food, he says, "Whoa. You ordered enough for a small army." He starts unpacking everything.

One of the things I really admire about Dean is how chill he is. Despite the fact that I’ve been ignoring him for the past two weeks, here he is, completely unfazed.

"How's the band?"

Hmm. How do I put this? "We're going through a small disagreement right now."

His eyebrows shoot up as he looks at me. "Uh-oh. Doesn't sound good."

"It's... not." I squirm. I really, really don't want to tell him everything. There are some things I can share, but without telling him everything, he probably won’t understand most of it. He’d ask a bunch of questions, and the thought of dealing with that makes me sick to my stomach.

"Let's grab a few beers and you can tell me all about it."

I opt out of the beer. I start taking the food into the living room, leaving him to choose his drink. When he finally joins me on the couch, he asks,

"Not drinking tonight?"

Though I knew that it was going to come up eventually, I'm still not prepared to answer it. "Maybe later," I say. It's the best I can do.

After snapping his chopsticks and rubbing them together, he reaches for one of the trays. "Oooh, sashimi. Nice." He opens it. He lifts up one of the pieces of salmon, saying, "What are you waiting on?" He sticks the salmon in his mouth.

"I'm just not super hungry right now."

"Then why'd you order so much food?"

I roll my eyes. Fine. I grab the tray closest to me and dig in.

"So.” He swallows. “What's going on? Why'd you disappear off the face of the planet for so long?"

Not looking at him, I apologize. “Sorry.”

"It's fine. I thought you were just mad at me or something. The last time we really spoke you were late for band practice. They weren't too pissed off by the way, were they?"

"They took it as they always do." And then some. I sigh. "How's Lynn?"

"She's fine. You know the studio she works with? She's actually thinking of going her out on her own, having like monthly subscribers. More work, but higher profits for her."

I nod but say nothing. He asks,

“So what's up with you and the band?"

"They want to get rid of me."

He stops eating, shock appearing his face. "No shit? Dude, what they hell? Are they crazy?"

"They're tired of me being me, I guess."

"But there's nothing wrong with you.” He leans back. “What's that supposed to mean, anyway? What are they trying to accomplish?"

"I dunno. Might be at the parting of the ways."

"There's no way," he insists, shaking his head. "That would be career suicide if they did that."

"That's what I thought! But apparently they're considering it."

“Wait, so they want to disband entirely? Or do they just want to replace you?” I shrug. When they'd brought it up, they hadn't mentioned a replacement--and I hadn't asked. "You're like ninety percent of the band, though. I mean, I know they contribute and everything, but The Midnight Misery without Shadow?" He shakes his head. "Just doesn't make sense." He sighs. "Did you tell your dad?"

"He knows.”

"What's he think?"

I exhale. “He didn't say that it was a bad idea."

"Seriously?"

"He didn't say it was a good idea or that he supports it or anything, but when he found out, he wasn’t outraged or surprised." I lean back. "He just stood there.”

"Incredible.” Dean shakes his head. “What are you going to do?"

"I dunno."

"Honestly, Shadow, if you really wanted to, you could leave them and become a solo artist. You'd have enough demand. We've always talked about you collaborating with She Dreams in Color; now might be the time."

"I'll think about it," I tell him. "But it's just dumb. They want me to be different. So what if I’ve been late to a couple of rehearsals? I always show up, and that’s what matters. Plus, I’m always early for shows and interviews or important meetings. Whenever I'm late for rehearsal, they always act like I’m committing a crime."

"It's your band; you should be able to do what you want. What would happen if you started calling the shots? What would happen if you kicked one of them out? Doesn't matter which, but just to show that they're not in charge of you."

I seriously consider it for a split second. But, realizing that it wouldn't do anyone any good, I shake my head. "No, that's not what I want to do. It would just cause more problems." Despite everything that’s going on right now, I do care about the guys, and I don't want to make their lives a living hell.

Unless they continue to piss me off, that is.

"Oh. Go to the label then. They'll make them stop."

He's right. I could easily go to one of the execs or someone on the board and force them to make the situation go away. But I would rather solve band issues with my band, not bring in someone else. Besides, if they actually did go to the label like they said they did, the label would probably take their side--not mine.

"I don't think it would help."

He takes a sip of his beer. "So, what are you going to do?"

It's the million-dollar question. What am I going to do? I don't want to tell Dean that I've been in therapy; I would have to explain why. I'm not ready for all of the questions he'd ask.

"I don't know," I whisper.

"Well, you need to do something to set them straight. Otherwise, they'll think that they can keep walking all over you."

"I don't think they think they're walking all over me..."

"No? Sure sounds like it."

I don't know why, but I feel the need to defend them. Sure, Dean doesn't know the full story, but they’re not taking advantage of me. Are they being dicks and blowing everything out of proportion? In my opinion, yes, but they're not walking all over me.

"It's absolute bullshit that they're trying to replace you over something so small. How does that even make sense? There has to be something else." He pauses. Finishing the tray in his hands, he puts it back on the table and grabs another. "Do you think there's something they're not telling you?"

More like there’s something I'm not telling him. Still, I shake my head, saying, "Nope. Can't think of anything."

"Then you definitely need to figure out what you're going to do. If they haven't said anything and you haven't done anything, there's no reason for them to act this way."

As he continues eating, I sit there quietly. Somehow, this conversation has made me feel worse instead of better. I knew that Dean would take my side no matter what; he knows the guys and likes them, but he knows me and likes me the best. Right now, I should be feeling validated, but instead I feel... Guilty?

But what do I have to feel guilty about? I’m being honest with him and have told him what he needs to know. I left a few things out, sure, but it's not like I've been bad-mouthing my band or anything. So why on earth do I feel so guilty?

Without notice, I drop my chopsticks on the table and stand. As I walk out of the room, Dean calls,

"Where ya going?"

"Uh. I'm just going to get a drink."

He looks back at me. My stomach drops. I don't know why, but I expect him to chastise me, to tell me no. Instead, he nods and says,

"Wanna bring me another one?"

I exhale. "Sure." With that, I turn and leave the room.

What harm is one little beer going to do, anyway?

-

See you in a few days for chapter 11. In the meantime, let me know what you think of the series. Talk to you soon!

-L.H.

[tommyspeakycap]

biggest mistake

mason made a mistake months ago. he's determined as ever to make things right.

At first, you thought avoiding the places that he might be was doing what was best for both of you to save hurt on either side. You never ever wanted to hurt him, but it became apparent that he wasn't struggling enough with the break up to feel any pain upon seeing you. When you walk into a bar with his friends who were once yours friends and he’s sitting there, laughing with his arm around a long legged brunette, head tipped back at whatever had been said. Instead of letting him see you, you just turned and walked back out the door.

Now it was fully your benefit, hiding from him. You didn't want to see him with another woman, arms tight around her or pressing kisses to her cheek like he used to do with you. You didn't want to see him, completely fine from something that was tearing you apart more each and every day.

People kept telling you she was just a fling to help him get over you, but he certainly seemed a lot more than happy to crack on with his life without you in it while you struggle to even find your footing without him by your side. A lot of your heart had been debating going home, finding somewhere to live back in home so you wouldn't have to be faced with him everywhere you felt like you did living in the city that he brought you to.

"Are you sure you're feeling alright?"

Your head snaps around in surprise, eyes landing on the concerned face of your best friend. Unaware of how long you had been spaced out, you shrug your shoulders and shake you head to try to bring you back to reality a little bit. "Yeah," you mumble, "I'm fine."

John frowns despite your answer. "You don't look fine." He counters, a little harshly in the way that only best friends can really manage to get spot on. "In fact you look awful, no offence. You look really ill. Have you been sleeping? Eating?"

His concern is evident, intensified only by the way that you avoid his eyes at the question and seem to drift off back into your own mind. The brunette isn't sure what you're thinking about and honestly if he asked, you wouldn't know what to say because you don't ever really know what it is that is occupying so much of your mind. "Been feeling quite sick," you mutter, shrugging the question off as you try to turn back to the uni work on your laptop.

"What kind of sick?" He presses, making you furrow your brows and shrug once again. "I dunno Stones?" You grumble, "Like I don't have any appetite, everything I eat seems to come back up because I'm so sad and anxious because I thought I was going to be with that man for the rest of my life and he cheated on me, left me and moved on already, kind of sick." You bleat, tears wetting your eyes despite your desire to sound harsh.

“I’m sorry love,” he comforts, patting your knee gently, “I really wish there was something i could do to help you. Please?”

You just shake your head. “Just need some time to myself, if that’s okay?” You mumble. Your best friend nods, unable to think of anything else to say or any way to comfort you. You’ve been in absolute pieces since you found out about Mason with that other girl and now to see that he’s still with her is just all the more painful. It’s clear she was the one he loved and it was actually you who was the one who never mattered to him.

He does leave your little apartment - albeit begrudgingly. That little apartment that’s completely bare because you only moved in two weeks ago after living with John in Manchester for two months post finding a woman in the bed you shared at home with your boyfriend of the past three years. But poor John leaves feeling almost as hurt as you are, chest aching at the thought of you laying in bed distraught.

Part of you wanted to know if Mason had told any of them the truth. You wanted to know if his mother and sister knew that you had caught him cheating or if they still thought of him as their perfect Mason. Would he have lied? Did they hate you? You couldn't know, you got rid of your phone that night and took up a new number a week later, so you never got any of those old texts and Mason had no way to reach you. You wonder what those friends think, the ones you met through him and thought had really actually been your friends as opposed to only people who put up with you because you were his girlfriend. Maybe he told them you cheated on him or maybe he asked they not to. Maybe they never liked you.

It was pure personal torture every minute of your waking hours.

~~~~~

"Up and at 'em!"

Your eyes peel open quickly, leaving you startled and discombobulated as you attempt to tug your duvet back up your body only to find its being pulled in the opposite direction. "It's final day, (y/n). Up!" Someone chants, pulling open your curtains and letting the light stream in much to your very dismay.

"What the fuck," you mumble groggily, sleep coating your voice as you sling your arm over your face to make an attempt at replicating the darkness provided by your blackout curtains. The crease of your elbow creates mild cover, but nothing like what you had before and now without your duvet, you know there’s no way you’re getting back to sleep. “Leave me be.” You grumble tiredly.

“Not a chance,” the voice chides, “It’s final day and we are going.” At that, you finally actually open your eyes, craning your neck to see who had infiltrated your home. Lauren is standing at the foot of your bed with her hands on her hips, one holding onto what looks like a white England shirt. “Aha!” You snort, rolling back over onto your front. “Never in a million years.”

The sound of another pair of shoes approaching makes your eyebrows furrow against your pillow. “My brothers an idiot, but this is one of the biggest games of his career and I know you don’t actually to miss this.” Mason’s sisters voice comes, making you shoot up to a seated position in your bed. “No, but i really do.” You lament. “And how did you two even get in here?” You cock an eyebrow as you swing your legs over the side of your bed and plant your feet into your slippers to shuffle out your room with Lauren and Jas behind you.

“You left a spare key under the mat (y/n), you’re as predictable as they come.” Lauren shrugs, but you know for a fact John would have told Declan that and Declan would have told her about where you keep your spare key in the event that you accidentally lock yourself (which you often do) while going to take your rubbish down.

Mason’s sister had gotten back in touch with you recently, hoping she had left you an alright amount of time to calm down after the breakup to get back in contact and while you were thankful for the support she had given to you, she couldn’t be any more wrong about you wanting to go to this game. “Now come on, we bought you a shirt. Dec offered to send one but figured you’d prefer this.” Lauren offers, holding out the shirt to you. “Shower and get dressed. We can have lunch and then-”

“No.” You deadpan, offering a false, snippy smile while you throw closed the door of your fridge. “Come on (y/n).” Jas tries, picking the shirt up off the chair you’d discarded it over. “No.” You repeat. “I don’t want to see him at all, he won’t want to see me either. It’s really not worth it. And i won’t wear that either, we’re not together. I really appreciate you guys for thinking of me but i really don’t want this and i’m not just being bashful.” You sigh, feeling their eyes burning into you as you pour out your orange juice into a glass.

“Fine.” Jas says, “Don’t come for Mason, but come and wear that shirt.” She tries, her voice as convincing as she can get it. “I already-“

“Just look it it will you!”

You whip around finally, looking at her holding out the white shirt. It wasn’t Mason’s England number and it wasn’t his surname that was decorated in red across the back. It was Stones and it was the number 5 branded across there.

“He’s been like your brother since you were five.” Jas says, “And he won’t say it because he knows that you’re still in agony about Mason, but he really really wants you there. Mason said he hasn’t stopped talking about you all week, he’s constantly on Mason’s back about what he did to you and i know you don’t want to hear it but he really wants to talk to you about it. If you’d give him the chance?” She begs. Her eyes that look so much like Mason’s are genuinely pleading with you, and somewhere deep in your heart you feel a warmth just thinking about John defending you and standing up for you even and especially when you aren’t there. It’s just John.

John who put you up in his house, made sure you were eating properly and held you through that first two months of the absolute worst heartbreak you had ever known. John who had helped you move in all day. John who had driven to London at every opportunity to make sure you are alright.

You owed nothing to Mason, but you owe the absolute world to John.

That’s exactly how you ended up the stands with that England shirt on, hugging all those people you haven’t seen in so long and sending John a text with a picture of your view to surprise him with that fact you actually came. His happiness even through text was confirmation that you had made the right decision. John really was like your older brother.

It was when you spotted Mason that you were contemplating the decision. You don’t know if he saw you, but the second he was no longer hidden by the tunnel, he was all that you could see in an arena full of tens of thousands of people. It was like everything else around you had become a blur and your eyes could solely and only focus on him for the entire game.

And then they lost and if your heart wasn’t broken before (and it most certainly was), then broken didn’t cover the feeling you had. Because despite it all, despite the woman he fucked in your bed and and the stupidity he had in not chasing after you when you left him; you still belonged wholly and fully to him. That’s why you’ve never recovered. It’s why you still sleep half the day and refuse fo see anyone who was once in that part of your life. Everybody knows exactly how you still feel about him, everybody. You knew this very thing would happen when you laid eyes on him again and that’s why you were intent to stay away from him as long as possible.

Life is truly never really in your favour, though.

“Thought i might find you here.”

Your heart suddenly lurches up, slamming into your ribcage and making you lose your breath for the moment simply at the sound of his voice. It was so familiar yet so, so different.

So welcomed.

You turn to look at him, eventually patting the red seat next to you. “Finally got past bodyguard Stonesy, then?” You joke awkwardly, fiddling with your fingers the way Mason knows you do when you’re nervous. He wants so desperately to reach out and cup your hands in his to stop them from shaking the way they do right now. He wishes he was still the one able to soothe you. “Not easy,” Mason jests back, that same level of static nervousness ever present in his tone as it was yours. “But i don’t think he could stand up right now even if he wanted to, legs are dead.” He tries to lighten the mood, but neither of you actually laugh, just two empty people with two empty grins.

Silence falls between the two empty hearts, lips pressed in firm lines with neither wanting to take the chance of the next words. They dance on the tip of your tongue, your heart wanting you to spill every little detail of the pain he caused you while simultaneously begging for him to take it away as your mind battled with rational thought to keep quiet, keep reserved, give him nothing. Let him talk to you first.

“I’m so sorry for what i did to you, (y/n).”

His voice is full of emotions that you can’t even begin to pick out. He says it like a confession, like one he’s been holding onto for a very long time desperate to get off his chest to relieve the weight that’s been suffocating him since the day you walked out the door. His second worst mistake was kissing that girl, taking her back to the home he shared with you and kissing her on the bed you shared and then his biggest mistake, but the worst one he ever made was not chasing after you. Not running out into the street, not persisting and forcing the two of you to work this out.

He’d had an earful from John, over and over and over again. About how stupid he had been, but how he never lost his chance if he just goes after you. John knows you better than anyone, so the fact that he actually did allow Mason to come out here and be within five feet of you after how he broke you meant that he really had to try. Mason is still so in love with you and the reason he did what he did was pure stupidity, pure egotistical level stupidity that he can’t even believe he achieved.

“I have no words for it,” he admits, shaking his head. “What i did was disgusting, i hurt you in a way i never ever wanted to do. And i know-” he hangs his head, shaking it shame as he takes a deep breath to collect himself. “I’m still in love with you. I’ve been in love with you since the day i met you and i’ve been in love with you every day since. I love you every second of every minute of every day. I love you when i wake up in the morning and i love you when i go to sleep. I love you so much i almost don’t even want you to take me back because i did the worst thing to you that a person could ever do. But i’m here, begging you and i will get down on my knees, but i am begging you to please give me another chance. I will do whatever it takes, every day for the rest of my life to prove myself to you. Please.”

His eyes are full of tears when they finally look back to you. Your heart thunders in your chest in tears slip down over your cheeks. Those shaky hands ride up, cupping his face and smoothing your thumbs over his cheeks to swipe off the tears.

Your voice is shaky, but your words are sure when you say, “Mason, I still love you too.” And your lips crash onto his. The moment spent holding onto each other for dear life is one that only lasts a few moments before the bubble is popped by the voice of a loud Barnsley boy with one eyebrow cocked and his strong arms crossed over his chest.

“Happy for you mate!” He calls down, words aimed at Mason. “But if you ever hurt her again, I’ll come after you.”

Mason will certainly heed that warning, but he never intends to do anything but made you happy ever, ever again in his life.

[titanicfreija]

Bad Days

"Hey!"

Freija called after the Warlock, who tried to run away from her. "I'm not gonna be mean, I swear!"

The warlock didn't stop, but he did slow down, and he glanced over his shoulder, then let her catch up.

Freija tucked her helmet under her arm as she trotted up, but he still stepped back when he decided she was close enough. "I saw that you were having a bad time, I get--"

The human took off his helmet and threw it to the ground in frustration, then kicked it and screamed. "That whole map was such bullshit-and you! What the hell! Did you really stop to swap weapons twice? What the hell is with the barricade, how are you shooting through it?! That jerk with the sniper rifle had me afraid to resurrect! I told my ghost to leave me down!"

"You know that's against the rules," chided his ghost quietly.

"And my stupid fireteam wouldn't stop giving you guys that stupid hallway and letting you pick us all off like that! It was so--" he stopped to roar wordlessly.

Freija tried to keep a comforting smile on her face, and she fondled her helmet while she listened. "Yeah, sometimes I'm still dog food, too. It's hard. Doing my best and then I'm still picking lead out of my boots at the end of the day." She shrugged. "Obviously, today was not that day, but tomorrow might be. Got mauled for breakfast." She grinned. "Made the comeback."

The Warlock glared at the redheaded Titan and spat. "I'm not making any comebacks."

"Well, no, not if you go throwing yourself off a cliff every time you feel like you're losing," she agreed. "You have to shoot at your enemies and throw grenades to make comebacks."

"I'm not good enough!" he cried. "You guys are too good!" He finally went to pick up his helmet. "How was I supposed to fight back?! I don't even get time to think!"

"I dunno," she replied, shrugging. "I don't like telling people how to work. What works for you is what works for you." She gestured at her Mida Multitool and brushed off her Citan's shoulders. "I get flanked real bad if I'm not careful, and I'm not careful. Tried running Dead Man's for a while, kept looking down sights and getting blasted in the back of the head. Friend suggested this. Finally learning how to reposition in smart ways, instead of going to go shotgun duel with someone probably better at this than me, seeing as they were sneaking around with full intention of doing just that. I'm no good. I wish I was, I love shotguns. I'm learning."

He was staring at her, now, but the shop talk was apparently settling to him.

"Polaris Lance is another favorite," she said, gesturing to the gun on its sling. "I recommend staying way back to use it, especially flanking while your allies hold them from another position. Crouching will take you off the radar. Just keep trying."

She clapped his shoulders between her hands in an effort to be friendly. "I don't know how to say this without it sounding horrible, so it's probably just horrible to say but-- don't throw. Just leave. That wasn't fair to your allies. It's especially bad with the shared resurrection count. You can't clutch if you give up, and your allies can't clutch for you if you dump all their resurrections."

He sneered, no longer settled, and he stomped away.

"Shaxx believes in you," she called after him, and she turned on her toes to see Rise waiting.

"Are you ever not an asshole?" she demanded. "That poor kid!"

"I mean, no, but also he killed himself three times in eight rounds, right after he lost the first rounds of the matches, it pissed me off," she grumped. "He wasn't even on my team, I tried to sit it out after I saw what he was doing. I get sorry sports, but don't drag down your allies."

"You don't like the sorry sports, either! Even on your own team!"

"That doesn't mean I don't understand them, it just means I don't like them."

Rise shrugged. "Don't see what you like about the crucible."

Freija grinned. "Yes, you do, you just hate the same things I love." The grin turned violent before they transmatted to their ships. "Your stomach jumping into your mouth, blood rushing in your ears, barely escaping with your life, all those times where the only thing you can even hear are your own gun and pounding heart."

"And everything is on fire," Rise agreed. "No thank you."

"I'm actually not that great at setting other guardians on fire."

"You sound disappointed."

~

Freija is very much a "git gud" type, but she is also the, "everyone can do anything they want to do, they just have to keep trying" type.

Also, I cannot tell you how fucking bad I was when I started. I'm still shit at control and iron banner.

*

Table of Contents

[angel-dust-addict]

Angel smiled softly at Alastor's question. "Down Under the Manhattan Bridge Overpass. It's part'a Brooklyn. Real workin' class neighborhood, mostly queer an' Puerto Rican. I, uh, I ended up down on Sands Street fa' most'a my years there. There was a Navy yard down there. Real popular spot fa' cruisin'. An' tha sailors, they ain't been ashore in a while, so they, uh... us workin' girls could always find work down there, ya know? Wasn't great, but I didn't starve, so that was somethin'. Had a roof ova' my head more often than not, even if that roof usually belonged ta a brothel or a bordello."

His smile had faded into a melancholic frown, his expression tired. It said a great deal about his recollection of that part of his life all on its own. Those years had been trying at best. There was a lot of danger in doing what he did, especially as a gay man. And he had certainly met with his fair share of problems.

"Started usin' when I was livin' down there. It, uh, it can be challenin' sometimes. Sometimes ya just need ta... fahget. Just fa' a little while." He sighed and fell silent, just staring down at their hands.

After a moment, he said softly, "They're all down here, ya know. Well, tha men. Some'a tha women, but all'a tha men, fa' as I know. From tha Family. But at least here, they ain't got tha balls ta come afta' me. I'm too well known. Mostly they just pretend they ain't got a clue who I am. Works out well enough fa' all'a us, I guess. Kinda funny, though, in a sick sorta way. Me bein' too famous fa' them ta touch ne fa' exactly what I was always afraid they were gonna kill me for."

As he fell silent once again, the true extent of his exhaustion began to show. In his face, in his posture, in his very apparent listlessness. It was an exhaustion that went well beyond just what had been done to him tonight.

Slowly, movements halting and cautious, he sank down on the bed next to Alastor. When finally he laid down all the way, he looked up at the deer, studying his expression. The warmth there was what convinced him to throw caution to the wind. Shifting closer, he carefully tucked himself right up next to Alastor, resting his head on the deer's unbitten shoulder. He still felt horrible about the bite, but it wasn't as though he could do anything to fix it now. And after all the stress of the night, now that he knew for certain that Alastor really wouldn't hurt him, he just wanted to be close. Besides, Alastor had voiced no objections in the time since Angel had begun to feel comfortable encroaching into the Radio Demon's personal space.

There was some irony, too, in the fact that most demons found Alastor terrifying. Yet if it had been anyone else beside him, Angel would have worried about how little he was wearing. That, to him, was more frightening than the threat of violence. It was an experience he had lived, after all. Again and again and again and again. Especially when he found himself with a powerful man on his bed. Alastor could be plenty cruel when he chose to be, but he wasn't the sort of cruel that Angel had learned to fear.

"Ya didn't miss much," he said softly, not looking up. "Dyin' when ya did. There was a war - I'm sure ya know all about dat - an' not a whole lot else. Tha country finally clawed its way outta tha Depression when it joined tha war. But it sacrified all tha same people as usual ta make that happen. Started gentrifyin' shit, too. Brooklyn cleared out Sands Street. Drove everybody out."

He grinned playfully and added, "Ya missed television. Somehow I doubt ya mind that much. Movie wit' sound. Cars got bigga'. Figuratively and literally." He shrugged, something Alastor probably felt more than saw. "Wasn't dat great. Don't really figure I missed much, dyin' when I did. '47. Right afta' tha war. Dunno. Lived long enough ta see tha fuckin' mob get taken down a peg. Pro'lly tha best thing about havin' stuck around as long as I did. Dunno if Pops was still runnin' our branch by then or if he'd passed it on ta my brotha'. Neva' really cared enough ta find out if any of 'em were dead. Dunno much about tha South..."

He trailed off once again, fatigue evident. He didn't want to sleep, though. He wanted to stay here with Alastor and enjoy being able to be close like this. The conversation and circumstances weren't happy, but he valued anything he could learn about the other man. And he valued the chance to just be. He always liked spending time with Alastor. Now if he could just stay awake for it.

Angel looked like he might cry at that declaration. The fear and dread he had felt waiting for Alastor to be through the worst of this and exact revenge had burned in his chest and made him feel sick. Silently, he shifted up the bed a bit and turned away from Alastor as he drew his legs up onto the bed. He was still very conscious of what he was and was not wearing and it might have been slightly awkward to end up flashing the deer. Turned towards the shorter man with his stockinged feet tucked up next to him, Angel leaned on one of his lower hands, reaching down with one of the upper ones to rest lightly over one of Alastor's own.

For a moment he was still, just watching the other demon with a wondering sort of look. He felt... not obligated, per se, but he felt as though it would be safe to share a bit of his own history. There were very few people who knew anything of substance about him. Those who did... They were mostly his family and fuck knew he avoided them like the plague.

"I'm from New York, if ya couldn't tell by tha accent," he began quietly, looking down at their hands rather than meeting Alastor's eyes. "Manhattan. I dunno if ya know much about organized crime, but, uh..." He gave a soft, mildly uneasy chuckle. "Tha Famiglia is everythin' fa' anybody who's a part of it. An' us? It was us. Literally.

"'Cept tha mafia tends ta be real Roman Catholic. An' when my pops found out I was gay..." he trailed off with a shrug. "'M suprised he didn't kill me. Or have my uncle do it. Dat was kinda his specialty. But it don't look real good, tha capo havin' a queer fa' a son."

He paused just for a moment, then smiled bitterly and said, "Anyway, that was in '36. Dunno how how much'a tha Depression ya lived through. Nobody had work. An' there definitely wasn't any work fa' a fairy. Wanted ta stay off the family's radar, too. DUMBO was tha best place fa' somebody like me ta disappear. An' I did tell ya I been doin' what I do fa' a long time..."

[possessingtheproperspirit]

hellooo!! L + H + F if you don't mind <3

Helloooooo!! Thanks for sending these <33

L: How many times do you usually revise your fic/chapter before posting?

It varies, mainly based on how tired I am/how fed up of the writing I am by the time I get to posting. Sometimes it's very much a case of "ugh I can't look at this anymore, if there are issues then so be it", and other times I take a few runs at it. I don't enjoy editing and revising that much and, actually, a lot of it happens each time I open the doc to write—I go back through to remind myself where I've got to, and tinker with it as I go.

H: How would you describe your style?

I find this a hard question, in that I'm not sure how I'd describe anyone's style, let alone my own! I think it's very emotion-centred. A bit zingy. A bit/lot painful.

F: Share a snippet from one of your favorite dialogue scenes you’ve written and explain why you’re proud of it.

Okay I chose a snippet that can't really be deemed a snippet but I just really like it, okay?

Remus was sat on his bed, scribbling something on a piece of parchment; he looked up and watched as James dumped his dirty Quidditch kit in a heap on the floor, kicked the dorm door shut and moved to sit at the foot of Moony’s bed.

“I saw Lily in the bath,” he said, deciding that preamble would be a waste of time.

Remus’ eyes widened comically and he sat forward. “I’m sorry—what?”

“Apparently there’s been an issue with the prefect bathroom door, it doesn’t always shut properly and it hadn’t done, and I wandered in there all innocent and muddy from practice to find her in the bath.” The words rushed out of him—it was almost a relief. He sighed and lowered his voice a little, furtively. “Moony, I almost saw her tits.”

Remus could only blink for a few seconds before he found any words. “Wow…”

“Yeah,” James agreed.

“I mean…blimey,” Remus shook his head.

“Yeah,” he said again, and paused. The quiet of the dorm room struck him, and he thought about what he had caught sight of downstairs—Sirius and Pete hadn’t looked very far into their game. He lifted his gaze to look his friend in the eye. “This is an embarrassing secret, Moony. You know why I’m telling you?”

Remus raised an eyebrow, and a shoulder in a shrug. “Why?”

“Because you’re my best friend.”

James watched, fondly, as the flash of realisation crossed Moony’s face—that he’d wandered unwittingly into a Serious Conversation, one he’d been avoiding since his return, and now there was no easy way out of it. “Prongs—” he started.

“You know how there’s a scale of, I dunno, affection?” James carried on; best to cut the chap off before he got a head of steam going. “With, let’s say, Rosier and Mulciber and those utter cretins at one end, and my mum and dad at the other?”

Remus eyed him warily. “James, I don’t need you to—”

“On this scale,” he barrelled on cheerfully, “there’s mum and dad, obviously, and then just below them is a three-way tie.” He held up three fingers to tick them off. “You, Sirius, Pete. All the same level, as it happens, because best friend isn’t just one tiny pedestal, it’s a…” he paused thoughtfully. “Yes! It’s a platform. With space for several people.”

Remus had that uncomfortable, squirmy look about him that told James that he was trying desperately not to get emotional. “Seriously, James, you don’t need to…tend to my wounded ego or anything.”

James fixed him with a stern look. “Piss off, Moony. You can’t tell me who my best friends are. I’m the one who makes that decision.” He paused, and when he spoke again, his voice was gentler. “I’m sorry. After…what happened, I just wanted things to be okay again, but…that shouldn’t have come at the expense of your feelings.”

Remus dropped his gaze. “S’alright.”

“It’s not,” James insisted quietly. “Sirius fucked up. He knows it. Pete knows it. I know it. And if you think I haven’t been angry and sad and…and fucked off about what he did to you, then I’m sorry, because I should’ve made it clearer.”

A silence fell, although it wasn’t awkward. James had a feeling that Remus was using the opportunity to gather himself.

“It felt like we’d lost a limb without you here, Moony,” he added eventually. “If you think you aren’t important, that you don’t matter to us, then I’m sorry but you’re fucking mad.”

A smile, finally, cracking just slightly through on his pale face. “Alright,” he said, voice thick with feelings unnamed. “Christ. You’ve made your point. I believe you.”

“Good,” James nodded. “But I’ll keep reminding you at regular intervals, just in case.”

“Kind of you,” Remus replied dryly.

“And you might want to put the stopper in that inkwell,” he suggested.

Remus frowned in brief confusion before the truth of what was about to happen dawned on him. “Wait—”

“Incoming!” James beamed before launching himself at his friend, half hug, half tackle that ended up with them both falling off the bed, Remus kicking him in the shins and James declaring all out war as he attempted to sit on his friend’s chest.

I am proud of this chunk of dialogue (chapter 10 of The Price We Pay, for full details, see my published works #gilderoyforever) because I feel like it hits several key notes for me. 1) James being head over heels for Lily and desperately trying not to be. 2) James being a fucking dreamboat of a friend, so earnest and sweet and kind. 3) Remus being a bit of an emotionally-constipated struggler, god love him. 4) James showing affection by leaping on his friend.

I mean, what more could one ask for...?

Send me an ask from this list, if you'd like!

[delicrieux]

girl, not sure if you reblogging that prompt list means your requests are open but if they are, I would love to see "Apparently all our friends have a bet going that we end up together.” with Peter P if you would be so kind. If they're not open, please feel free to ignore this, and know that I'm sending you lots of love and hope you're doing well 🥰💞

hey queen . yes requests are open 💛 love u lots!! cant wait for the new COA chapter!!!(even tho i know it will be extremely painful)

MJ, from her locker, can see you and Peter strolling in, heads close together, whispering, laughing, oblivious to the two pairs of eyes watching your every move.

“I bet ten bucks that Peter’s gonna crack first and ask her out.” Ned says, crossing his arms over his chest with a smug little smile. MJ raises a brow, rolling her eyes and shutting her locker.

“Yeah...No way. Peter I’m blushing Parker is not nearly brave enough to do that. It’s gonna be (Name).”

Ned stares at her, “He’s Spiderman.”

“Yea, and he’s also a dumbass that can’t talk to girls. It’s gonna be (Name).”

Ned hums, “When do you think?”

She shrugs, “...I give it a month.”

“Two weeks.”

MJ narrows her eyes at him, extending her hand, “Deal.”

They shake on it. The clock starts ticking.

—*—

Your friends have been... weird to say the least. You felt like some sort of cloud, a secret, a myth, a something, had been hanging over your head and your curiosity had clawed up from mild interest to straight up panic. You heard the whispers, saw the terrible smirks and the strange wiggling eyebrows. It was like middle school all over again: you missed some sort of hilarious joke or were a part of one. The thought made you a bit ill, but then again, you knew your friends well — all of them are considerate, conspicuous! but mostly harmless — and if it was something serious they would have told you.

You could have lived your life like that. Simply. Saying “Oh well!” and continuing with your daily duties, your curiosity gone, non-affected, absolutely tranquil. But that is not you. And you deem this an Avengers Level Threat.

A week of pondering and restless nights and texts to MJ, Ned, Liz, everyone. The best you got was from Liz that was but a string of emojis and a: When you know, you know!

It’s Monday and the bell had rung and you are, unlike everyone else, in no rush to class. You stand by Peter’s locker, ready to corner him and demand answers. You know cracking MJ is impossible. Ned is elusive. Liz is too sweet for interrogation. Peter is your only hope.

You spot him bee-lining to Science and swiftly make your way to him. He stops when he notices you, smiles a little breathless, holds his hand up to wave but you buzz past him, yanking onto the strap of his bag and dragging him along with you.

“Hey—! I need to go to cl—“

“You can go later.” You hiss.

The yard is silent, save for the far away shouts and groans from P.E. You two hide behind the school where the smokers usually hang out, though their resident spot on the steps is empty as so you sit down. Apparently 9 o’clock is too early for pot or cigarettes. It’s not an ideal setting. But it’s safe. No teachers wander around here and the worst that can happen is... well, nothing.

“So.” Peter starts, shifting from foot to foot, “Uhh—...What’s up?”

“Tell me.” You demand. He frowns.

“Tell you...what?”

“The secret. I’ve seen everyone conspiring.” You explain, glancing away, “I wanna conspire too...”

“Oh! That...” He releases a breathless laugh, not quite amused, more anxious. His cheeks bloom in red and you raise a brow, “It’s uhh...Nothing, really. Just uhh—“ He glances at you, uncertain, his tone shifting from small to loud in an abnormal rate, “They-They— our friends, they uhh— Apparently they have a bet going that we end up together.” He stutters out.

You take a moment to process this information. A deep breath to calm the butterflies and the nerves and the sudden fry of your cheeks. You gulp, throat dry, standing up suddenly, fist clenched in dignity, “And how—“ You clear your throat, “How... till when?” You hope he understand what you are trying to say. To be fair you aren’t even sure yourself. But his eyes light up with recognition and he gives you a crooked smile.

“To my knowledge, the shortest time is two weeks. Ned’s idea.” He adds, more as an afterthought. You nod. You have never been so embarrassed in your whole life. Your friends are...shipping you with Peter? Next time you see MJ you will look her dead in the eyes and say: Et tu, Brute?

That is, of course, not to say you haven’t thought about asking Peter out, but you were hoping he would be the one to take the first step. Does he even like you? You like him. You like your study dates and movie marathons and dragging him along to shop. You like sharing music and going to Coney Island or out for coffee. And you like doing the same things with all of your other friends but when with him it feels different. More special. More fun. What is it that they say in times like these?

When you know, you know!

And you think you know. Slowly, a smile pinches your cheeks, and you look at him, almost expectantly, but he says nothing, simply stares, confused at your sudden change in manner.

“Sooo...” You drag, kicking a pebble with your shoe, “Maybe you’d like to like...I dunno... go... out... somewhere ... sometime?” You finish, squinting.

“Oh.” He grins, “Like after school? Sure! I’ll tell Ned and the others, we can all go.” You face falls and you look at him, suddenly exhausted, as if to say: Seriously? It hits him then and his brows shoot upwards, “Oh! Oh you mean like a date!” He laughs again nervously, staring somewhere over your shoulder, too embarrassed to face you head on. Your heart beats wildly in your chest. If he says no then— “Yes. Yes that would be... that would be awesome.” He says with a grin. You feel a weight lift off of your shoulders.

“Oh thank God.” You mutter, “That’s... Wow. Cool!”

You extend your hand to him as an invitation and he doesn’t even hesitate to take it. Hand in hand the two of you stroll back into the building before he abruptly stops.

“Wait, since we didn’t go to class...What do we do now?”

You shrug, “...Starbucks?”

“I was thinking more on the lines of the Library, but Starbucks is fine too.”

[hainethehero]

Billy (😎👑)and Steve (😳🌸) share a milkshake...

Steve drove away from Hawkins Middle like a bat out of hell after spotting Nancy at the Snow Ball. He didn't want to think about her and Johnathan being all sweet and chummy with each other at their little brothers' school dance. The thought was nauseating.

He drove til he reached the old Maple Road, driving into Benny's Burger's parking lot. They were always open so he figured he'd stop for a milkshake and a burger while he waited for Dustin. It was just his luck that Billy Hargrove seemed to be there dining as well.

"Well well, if it isn't Hawkins' very own pretty boy."

Steve rolls his eyes, scratching lazily at his tired eyes. "What d'you want Hargrove?"

Billy shrugs. "I dunno. I'm bored, join me?"

And Steve knows at this point that he should refuse the offer and just get the hell outta dodge but he doesn't. He would attempt to make sense out of it later but for now, he sits down opposite Billy in the booth, avidly avoiding his eyes in favour of perusing the menu.

"What're you having?" Billy asks him casually, taking a bite of his waffle.

Steve shrugs noncommittally. "Not sure. I was thinking about having a burger."

"Burger and a Coke? Wait- you look more like a milkshake babe. Are you into milkshakes Harrington?"

Steve rolled his eyes. "Why does everything you say come across as sleazy?"

Billy smirks and winks flirtatiously at him. "Can't help myself I guess. Hey Hannah darling, could you get my friend here a cheeseburger and a strawberry milkshake please? Thanks hon."

Steve gapes back at him incredulously. He's known that goddamn waitress his entire life and he's never seen her crack a smile like that before.

"Close your damn mouth princess, you're gonna catch flies." Billy mutters, sipping on his Coke.

Steve stutters, still dumbfounded at Billy's apparent charm. "Why would you think I'd prefer the strawberry milkshake?"

Billy snickers into his food and then offers Steve his best panty-dropper smile. "Because pink's your aesthetic. I didn't make the rules. Pretty colours for the pretty boy, y'know?"

Steve shifts uncomfortably in his seat, thankful that his food arrives just in time. He takes a bite of the burger, relishing in the taste. God, it's been a while since he's eaten anything but nachos and granola.

"Jesus, at least ask it for a date first before you go down on it, Harrington." Billy taunts lightly, electric blue eyes locked on Steve.

Steve purses his lips, putting down his burger. "I'm hungry, shut up." He takes a sip of his strawberry milkshake and almost moans at how good it is. He doesn't though, because Billy would say some shit about it.

"S' it any good?" The blonde boy asks, actually looking curious.

Steve nods, smiling despite himself. "It's really good. I've actually only ever had the chocolate so, this is a good different."

Billy shoots him that lilting, one-sided smirk that makes his insides quake nervously for some reason.

"Mind if I have a taste?"

Steve screws up his stupid, pretty face. "Um, no. I'm not sharing my milkshake with you."

"Why not?"

"Because, it's my milkshake. Get your own."

Billy grins again, taking the straw out of his tall glass of Coke and sticking it into Steve's milkshake. The brunette gapes at him as he takes a long sip, wiggling those thick brows at the dumbfounded boy.

"You're pretty when you're in shock."

Steve flounders for a second before regaining his composure. "And you're pretty annoying. Why the hell'd you do that?"

Billy shrugs, taking a bite of a crispy piece of bacon.

"I can't finish an entire milkshake on my own so, it made sense to take a sip of yours. Calm down princess, my mouth is clean." He smirks, clicking his tongue at Steve.

"I don't believe that." Steve deadpans. "And I'm not a princess."

Billy tosses his head back and cackles. "You sure? Cos I'm pretty certain you just kissed a frog."

Steve shoots him a withering glare. "I didn't kiss you. You took a sip from my milkshake. But, at least you got the frog part right."

Billy snorts. "I'm hurt Harrington."

Steve sighs, rolling his eyes at Billy's childish antics. "What are you even doing here anyway?"

Billy grunts noncommittally but answers him anyway. "Maxine. She's got that stupid Snow Ball dance thingy."

"Oh, right. Yeah, so does Dustin."

"Who?"

"Dust- never mind."

Billy shrugs. "This beats being at home anyway. I don't mind."

Steve pauses at that, feeling some sort of connection through that. He too was running from another lonely night at home, just like Billy. He sits in silence for a moment before nodding.

"I get it. I kinda don't wanna be home either."

Billy considers him for a minute or two before sipping on his milkshake again. Steve lets him, a little confused as to why he didn't seem to mind it as much as he'd been pretending to earlier. Maybe it was the way Billy had casually said that they'd practically kissed.

"You'd rather be out sharing a milkshake with me." Billy finally replies, with a victorious smirk.

"Y'know you really seem to like the idea of sharing my milkshake, Hargrove." Steve mutters, noticing the slight blush on Billy's face. He can tell by the pull on the corners of his own lips that he's blushing as well.

"Maybe I do."

Billy's voice is deep and rough like gravel as he stares at Steve through hooded eyes. Steve blushes and averts his eyes to his hands on the table.

"You're an idiot, Billy Hargrove."

Billy grins. "You are beautiful Steve Harrington."

[snarkwrites]

12 | gangsta; sweetpea

NOTES:

It's been a while. I've had these two chapters written for a while now but I haven't had time to sit down, edit them a little better and post them. Since I have time now, I thought I'd go ahead and do that, whether you guys asked for these next two chapters or not.

Sorry this took forever! Sorry I'm so slow, I've been settling into a new house and taking care of some IRL stuff / taking a little break. I swear, I'm going to update everything sooner or later. >.>

I love you guys.

WARNINGS:

NON/ LOOSE CANON COMPLIANCE - this is the biggest warning, so if you’re into things that follow exact canon plot you are… definitely not going to like this. ANGST & SLOW BURN, HEAVY SEXUAL TENSIONSTARTING NOW, ACTUALLY - this is just so everyone who started reading this thinking the smut would transpire in a hurry knows that apparently, it is not. VIOLENCE / SWEARING & FIGHTING, POSSIBLE UNDERAGE DRINKING AND OTHER SHENANIGANS- look.. it’s high school. shit happens. also apparently, my ofc Alyssa uses the word fuck like all the time?��EVENTUAL SEXUAL CONTENT / A VIRGIN ORIGINAL CHARACTER- this one is self explanatory. yes, i plan to write a smutty chapter in this at some point. when? i don’t rightly know. it’s got a while before we get there. STALKER TW - this chapter marks the true appearance of Alyssa's ex, Dave Novak. It's hinted heavily that he's a gross asshole who likes to play mind games.

If you're under 18+, probably not a good or wise idea to continue reading this series. Because there are going to be a few dark and adult themes within. I'll warn here, of course, but you need to understand that I don't control you. If you continue to read after having read the warnings and you're upset or don't like something... Totally on you, friend.

PAIRING:

Andrews!Sibling OFC x Sweet Pea.

TAGGING:

@brithedemonspawn is the only person on my Riverdale tag list. If you want to be added, the link to do so is below.

OTHER PARTS:

ONE - TWO - THREE - FOUR - FIVE - SIX - SEVEN - EIGHT - NINE - TEN- ELEVEN - soundtrack

OTHER STUFF:

[ about my writing - tag list doc ]

T W E L V E.

[773 - 589 - 7956] attachment

[773 - 589 - 7956] I think I decided how you can repay me, scarlet…

[773 - 589 - 7956] Better enjoy your quiet and happy little life while you still have it, scarlet. Because soon it’s all going to be ripped right out of your pretty little hands.

[773 - 589 - 7956] That boyfriend of yours isn’t even gonna be able to save you this time, scarlet. You’re mine.

[773 - 589 - 7956] See you soon, scarlet.

Each new text that came in had me tensing up. Careful to keep my phone out of sight of anyone who was nearby. My heart was about to beat right out of my chest and my stomach felt like it sank to the floor. I was barely listening to anything being said around me and I guess it was more obvious than I thought because Toni cleared her throat, nodding to the phone in my hand.

Gazing at me in concern.

“Everything okay? You look like you’re going to be sick.”

“Yeah,yeah. Everything is fine.” I lied. I think at that particular point in time, I was just trying to convince myself that this was all some kind of bad dream. Or worst case scenario, Dave was making empty threats.

Toni eyed me suspiciously. I tried to give her a convincing smile, but I’d have had to be an idiot to even think for a second that she believed me. She eyed my phone and reached for it. I managed to shove it in my pocket.

“Trust me.” I pleaded. She gave me a wary look and sighed, grumbling “Fine, okay. Alright.” under her breath.

And I did my best to push the texts out of my head. Jumping in the conversation she had going on with Cheryl and Veronica. Laughing and talking as if nothing were wrong.

Lying through the skin of my teeth.

XXX

“What’s got you so jumpy?”

The question caught me off guard. I wanted to tell someone what was going on, I really did, but… I didn’t want to worry anyone, either. I was at least 99.9 percent sure that there was absolutely no way that Dave would show up in Riverdale, at least that’s what I was hoping.

I did my best to play it off. Shoveling french fries into my mouth just so I didn’t have to answer right away. My cell phone lit up and I flinched before I could stop myself.

Toni reached for it and I quickly grabbed it and shoved it in my pocket. She gave me a concerned look and I muttered quietly, “Probably just Reggie...again.”

“Reggie’s with that new girl though?” Cheryl spoke up. Gazing at me thoughtfully. My breath caught in my throat because if anyone would catch on to there being something truly wrong with me or something off in the way I was acting, it’d be her or Polly.

So far, I’d managed to fool everyone else into thinking I was alright, even my dad and my brother.

,, Dave won’t come here, it’s not worth the hassle. He’s just playing mind games. That’s all this is. Pull yourself together.” the thought came and I managed a smile, shrugging.

“You’ve been acting weird all week, now that I’m thinking about it.” Cheryl was the one who said it and she gave me an expectant look. Waiting.

“I have not.”

,, I do have one secret I can spill. Maybe if I tell them about my crush on Sweetpea…” and so that’s what I did. Sighing as I reached for the shared plate of fries between the three of us. Raking my fries through my vanilla milkshake and taking a few deep breaths to kind of collect myself, both from Dave’s harassing texts and what I was finally about to get off my chest about having feelings for Sweetpea.

“You have. Start talking.” Toni spoke up, watching me. Sizing me up. If I had to guess, I’d pin money on her sitting across the booth, trying to figure out what was up with my jumpy attitude all week.

“Okay, alright. Fine. But what I’m about to tell you two does not leave this table, okay? It.. It can’t. If Sweetpea ever found out, pretty sure he’d start avoiding me and things would get weird.”

Toni and Cheryl exchanged a look and then Toni nodded. Chewing a mouthful of fries as she muttered calmly, “Go on.”

“ I may or may not have a crush on Sweetpea.”

“Oh, you definitely have a crush on him. It’s kind of obvious.” Cheryl gave a soft teasing grin and I sighed. Dragging my hand through my hair and taking a few seconds to let her words sink in. I almost dreaded asking, but I felt like I had to given that she said it was obvious. “Oh god.. He doesn’t suspect anything.. Right?”

“Oh, he’s the only one whose oblivious. But the rest of us, we’ve known a while.” Toni teased me. Then asked calmly, “Is that all? Why’s that have you so jumpy?”

“Because I know how bad I am at hiding things, okay? I was kind of… I dunno, freaking out I guess.” I eyed her, waiting. Searching her face in the hopes that she accepted what I said and didn’t keep pushing. A few seconds passed and she laughed softly. Took a sip of her strawberry milkshake and asked with a smirk, “Are you gonna do anything about it?”

“Probably not. Every time I even think about it, I manage to talk myself right out of it. He’d laugh his ass off, okay? Besides, remember all the flirting he was doing with Josie when they had to work together during the play?” I pouted as I pointed it out.

Cheryl and Toni exchanged looks and Toni laughed. “He was doing that to make you jealous. Or that’s what I think he was doing. Either way… I think you should do something. He’s not going to and trust me… I’ve known the guy my whole life. I know him well enough to say that I know he has a thing for you. Otherwise, he wouldn’t have been so cranky when you two first met?”

“I thought he was just naturally grumpy?”

“Oh, he is, but the way he was towards you was totally different. He’s only that grumpy when he’s trying to keep his defenses up.” Toni informed me before finishing off her shake.

The door to the diner opened and Sweetpea walked in, Fangs in tow. The two of them were laughing about something. I gave both Cheryl and Toni a pleading look and Cheryl seemed to pick up on my unspoken plea to change the subject thankfully, because she asked, “Are you going to F.P’s retirement party at the Wyrm?”

“Yeah.” I answered, finishing off my milkshake. Sweetpea flopped into the booth beside me, carelessly slinging an arm over the back of the seat. His hand brushed against my shoulder and I swear just the small brush against me felt like someone had taken a livewire and dragged it over my body real slow.

Toni smirked at me, nodding at Sweetpea while he was too busy wolfing down french fries to notice and I shook my head.

“I dare you. No… I triple dare you.. Flirt with him.” Toni gave a teasing grin as she mouthed the words to me and I swallowed hard.

She’s not playing fair. She knows I can’t turn down a dare.

I happened to glance out the window of the diner and when I thought I saw Dave standing there, leaning against a streetlamp, one hand in his pocket and a cigarette dangling between his lips, I nearly choked. This prompted Sweetpea to start hitting me on the back lightly as he laughed and looked at me in concern. “Damn cherry, are you trying to kill yourself?”

Toni’s brow raised and Sweetpea explained what happened earlier in the day, how I’d nicked myself with the scalpel in our first period class while doing a dissection. What Sweetpea didn’t know was that when it happened, it was because I thought I’d seen Dave standing outside in the parking lot, only to blink and the parking lot be empty.

I have got to stop letting his stupid mind games get to me. It’s just because he’s texting me again. It’s just because he knows how to work me up and get me all scared, he used to be good at it when we dated.

He’d never come to Riverdale. He’s just doing this to me for his own sick amusement and every single time I let him get to me, especially when I’m to a point where I’m so paranoid I’m imagining that I see him everywhere lately, it’s letting him win and that pisses me off more than anything.

I’m supposed to be stronger than that, damn it.

Toni eyed me suspiciously and I braced myself. When she didn’t bring up my skittish behavior, I relaxed a little.

I wanted to tell someone what was going on, but at the same time, why? I’m pretty sure this is just Dave, being an absolute bag of dicks.

It has to be that. It has to be.

XXX

He stood outside some podunk little diner right in the heart of town. The hazy red neon gave off a comforting and inviting warmth and he lit his cigarette, fuming in anger as he watched her sitting inside.

“I know you’re not ignoring me, scarlet. I know you’re not.” he muttered, mostly to himself as he turned the collar of his leather jacket up against the wind and started to walk towards the South Side.

Maybe it was time he paid his old buddy Eric a visit. Eric was out of prison. Eric was the one who’d told him where Alyssa was to begin with, though he didn’t realize it.

Dave chuckled and shook his head as he walked towards the shitty apartments on the opposite end of town where Eric lived. Eric owed him a few favors. He was coming to collect.

“Did you really think I was jokin when I told ya I have friends all over? That you weren’t ever gonna get away from me?” he mused to himself as he knocked on the door of a first floor slum apartment.

Eric opened the door, leaning in it lazily. Blinking at him in a daze and smirking. High fiving him as he asked him why he was in town.

Dave whipped out his phone, showing Eric a picture of Alyssa. At first he gave him some story about her running off while he was in the pen. Eric wasn’t buying it, he could see it written in the expression on his face. And that only made him angry. Eric owed him. He was here to collect the favor owed. All he wanted was for Eric to help him out on this one little thing.

Eric shook his head, chuckling in disgust. Gazing at him with a brow raised. “I think you need to leave, man. Now. You don’t want the heat this is gonna bring down on you. And I’m not about to get on a Serpent’s bad side, even if the Serpent in question is just a damn kid.”

“See, I’d like to just put this all behind me, man... but she’s the whole reason I even went to prison to begin with. Then I get out and find out not only is my girl not loyal, she’s also the one who snitched on me?” Dave eyed Eric. Getting irritated because this was not how he saw the conversation going.

“I’m telling you, you need to leave. Forget about Alyssa. I see her around all the time with some kid… Sweet Pea or Green Bean, some shit. The Serpents are not people you fuck with, man. Not around these parts.”

“You know the Serpents aren’t shit to me… Right?” Dave quipped, smirking. “I’ve got this under control. I just need you to help me out a little… C’mon, man. You owe me.”

“I don’t fucking care. I’m not helping you do whatever it is you’re here to do. What I oughta do is put a bullet in your fucking head for even thinking I’d be down for this shit. She’s a kid, man. A fucking kid... Favor or not, man… I’m on the Serpents side with this. Not yours. You need to leave.” Eric warned, giving Dave a firm glare as he folded heavily tattooed arms over his chest.

“Oh, so that’s how you’re playin, huh? Okay. Alright. All I wanna do is see her again. I’m not going to do anything. I just want to straighten things out. Get a little closure on the situation...”

Eric scoffed. “This coming from the king of overreaction. I don’t trust you.I’m breakin code of my gang by even talking to your ass. Nope. The answer is no. I’m not helping. Do whatever you have to do to me, but I’m not about to help you scare some kid. I’ve got better things to do with my time, buddy...”

Dave’s arm shot out and he pinned Eric against the door of his apartment. Smirking at him calmly. “I know you haven’t forgotten just how much your sorry ass owes me. Because that’s what this sounds like.”

“I guess that’s what it is then. Because I’ve seen what the Serpents can do. I’m not about to bring all that down on my head.” Eric stepped back inside his apartment, slamming the door in Dave’s face, leaving him to glare at the closed door and take a swing.

“Guess I’m doing this all by myself.” Dave mused as he turned and wandered down to a shitty dive bar nearby. He needed to have a few rounds. Come up with a plan.

And a little after midnight, after finding himself a few new talkative friends in some local Ghoulies, things were starting to look up for him. And he was slowly forming a plan.

Now he just had to wait. Pick his moment. Toy with her a little more.

“I’m so close I can almost touch you, scarlet. Soon… Soon you’re going to pay for running your mouth to mommy about me...” he smirked to himself as he unlocked his hotel room and stepped inside.