#Do I throw bread to attract people like ducks

[derpyjayistired]

I dunno how to tumblr

I'm new to tumblr and don't really know how to interact with people. Like I've seen the memes on Bettina levys channel and want to be a part of that but I dunno how. I'm coming from twitter and tumblr is way different. I feel like twitter is like a toxic work place where drama is everywhere but there are those two people you work with that you actually get along with. With tumblr it feels like a pool party and people are showing eachother stuff like their cool rock collection and then proceed to make the most cursed blessed funny statement I have ever heard. I have no idea how to interact and would like tips

[forensicated]

01x07 - A Dangerous Breed

TW: Homophobic language

Jim and June continue to flirt slightly over a crossword with the answer to Jim's pondering being "Great Tit."

Jim receives a call from Lord Barstow-Smythe who has had a break-in. His time is so important that he can hardly stay on the line long enough to report it properly (!). He insists on an officer from CID investigating it so Bob has to call the pub to get them out! Dave is on attachment to CID and heads over with Roy. (I love the continuing trope of Roy's horrific driving and godawful cars 🤣. It's so bad now that Dave is quite literally clinging to the dashboard as he drives even whilst wearing his seatbelt.)

As Roy drives, the radio crackles with people trying to find him. "Has anyone tried the boozer?" Answers Tom Penny. "Tell him we're on our bloody way!" After Dave puts the radio back down, his hand immediately returns to the dash! 🤣 "We'll be there in five minutes... God willing!" he swallows, the clutch complaining soon after!

Roy and Dave arrive shortly after uniform to find the Lord and his rather odd and younger girlfriend in the middle of a trashed front room. A necklace worth 45K has been stolen alongside £500 that he's not bothered about - just the necklace, claiming sentimental value. Roy nods, keeping a straight face and telling him that the description of the necklace has been sent throughout the MET and Interpol. "What took you so long?" Bob asked. "Litten, he's a lousy driver." Whoever it was who broke in seemed to know what they were looking for, leaving a lot of 'tasty gear' alone downstairs in the room that they broke into. It could almost be personal given that it's mostly graffiti, damaged art and only the necklace and £500 taken. Roy requests that the door-to-door is repeated, having seen a nosey neighbour watching them when he arrived.

Roy claims it could be kids - or it could be someone who wants it to look like kids. The Lord rules his girlfriend out to Roy too by rather uncouthly claiming she's not very bright. The Lord tells them he must have the necklace returned by the weekend before his mother arrives.

At the station, Dave is struggling to type up his crime reports and has taken to chainsmoking and working late. An attractive journalist arrives to speak about the necklace and Dave shows off, claiming he reckons it'll be on the way to Saudi. He tells her to write "We expect an early arrest." As she leaves, he shouts "You don't type by any chance do you?" after her. 🤦‍♀️

The next morning, Dave is in a good mood given he'd been mentioned in the paper as the 'officer in charge'. It doesn't last long as uniform wind him up for getting ahead of himself.

(can you see the error with the article? 🤣)

A man with a thin moustache is spotted in a phone box ringing Dave with a 'tip-off' about the necklace. He won't give his name but tells him to meet him in the park in 10 minutes.

When he gets there, Dave spots an elderly man throwing bread to the ducks. The man knows of Galloway and claims he's a pig who takes all the glory. He tells Dave that he should be keeping an eye out for a couple of young lads who are unable to get rid of it but he doesn't know their names or any more information(!). He offers to keep his eye out for information if Dave pays him - in advance. He wants £1000 from the insurance for giving information and advises that Dave ring the insurance company and explain that - for paying out £1000 they get to keep the other £44000 because they don't have to pay out the insurance value. And of course, Dave falls for it.

When Dave returns, Ted points out all the mistakes he's made in not booking on shift, he hasn't told anyone where he'd gone, he hadn't sorted the messages from the night before and - worst of all - he and Mike had to make their own coffee! Dave lights Ted's cigarette for him and speaks to him about taking on an informant. Ted explains to him that he needs to look it up in 'the book'. Mike has a last-minute appointment with a solicitor and has to leave before he can speak to Dave. Dave asks him for help and tells him that he'd have to tell the man who is calling back at 12.30pm to call back at 3pm instead as he won't be around until then to help him.

Ted warns him that he needs to get on top of the messages in the book that are directed to him before anything else and walks out. Dave growls in frustration and instead takes it upon himself to ring the insurance company of the necklace.

In the toilets, Bob and Ted discuss Dave "He's a bumptious young bugger isn't he."

The insurance company are rightly very suspicious, especially as it's against company rules. Dave claims that he wouldn't be surprised if the man rang the Lord and told him he almost got the necklace back but didn't because the insurance company wouldn't put up a grand and tells them that it could mean they have to pay out £45K. He doesn't seem to realise that this isn't the flex he thinks it is because it's exactly what insurance is for and what people pay their premiums for but... semantics. The insurance employee rings back and weirdly agrees to Dave's proposition!

A young boy spots the conman walking off into the woods whilst playing in the park. He's carrying a bag and looking rather shifty. He pauses outside a row of houses and surveys the bottom properties before making his way down to an abandoned one and breaking in and hiding the necklace in question in the chimney. He then heads to a local cafe where he pays 15p for a cup of tea (those were the!) before sitting near a couple of young lads and asking them if they're looking for work. He's willing to pay £50 a day for them to start painting 'his old house' and he'll leave the door open for them and meet them about 3pm in the basement.

Dave hangs around CID waiting for the telephone call from the conman...

...and heads to where the 'crime' has been reported. Inside the house - completely unawares - the two youths are reading The Beano and looking in the bag that the man had left - full of burglary kit - as Dave and 2 uniformed officers arrive.

Dave behaves like cock of the walk as Bob books his prisoners in. They both have no idea what is happening and say they've never seen the necklace again.

June sees the younger one reading The Beano and tells him that 'there's a lot of them inside... Desperate Dan's." [TPTB really should have given him a Dandy for that 🤣🤣] "They're all raving poofs you know!" Roy returns, and Dave doesn't miss the chance to show off to him with Roy inviting him up to his office to explain.

Roy closes the door of his office as Dave lies to him that he tried a million times to get through to him before using his initiative and trying to think like him. "You did well my son...." Roy says, before adding that he's not entirely pleased and should have been told earlier as he doesn't like to be the last to know. He then tells Dave to run him through it as he sees a suited gentleman enter CID and speak to Ted and Mike. He keeps glancing between the two whilst Dave spins a line of 'asking his snouts' for information before one 'got on the blower'. Mike then interrupts and says that "a Mr Wi-" "Winstanley?" Roy finishes as Dave realises that Roy knows everything. "Guv, I can explain!" he tries to cover before Roy tells him he has one chance to tell him what really happened because if what he thinks has happened has actually happened... both he and Mr Winstanley are in big trouble.

Roy leads Dave down to the cells where he opens one and goes to speak to the youngest Beano reading lad who gives him the silent treatment. Roy gives him a horror story about prison with the old lags screaming the place down and that there's no honour among thieves. He then gives him the chance to tell him the truth. The boy sings long and loud about being set up by the man who said he wanted his house painted. He then goes to say the same to the other boy who tells him the same story.

Roy stalks to his office and pulls out a file with a picture of the thin-moustached con man that details how many times he'd pulled the exact same con on inexperienced officers. "Do you realise how close you are to conspiracy to pervert the course of justice?" Thankfully Dave is lucky in that he hasn't paid the cash and he got the necklace back so things should be able to be sorted with only Dave's copybook blotted and his chances of joining CID anytime soon halved. Roy goes to confront the conman himself at the arranged meet and he makes a runner for it, only for Dave to rugby tackle him and arrest him. Roy allows him to claim the arrest himself and Dave buys him an expensive bottle of Scotch to say thank you!

To be fair to Uniform, their teasing of Dave afterwards is really quite mild! Taffy reads a pretend story from the paper - elevating Dave's rank each mention until he's the commissioner and Jim and June tease him about a commendation. Normally-battling-exes June and Dave even have a friendly exchange where she smiles knowingly at him after he winks at her.

[popatochisssp]

one thing i'm confused about with king is, we know about what it'd take to become close to him and i know why papyrus fans who already know about him would wanna go through the effort, but i'm not sure why a stranger would wanna go through that. like, mal is suave and pyre is charismatic even though they're both prickly, what does king have that'd attract someone who doesn't know him? (aside from good looks but he's not the only hot person in town)

I think the biggest thing to remember about King (Horrorfell Papyrus) is that, in spite of his attempts to act like it, he’s really not a heartless monster.

(He is, in a technical sense, in that he’s a monster who doesn’t have a physical heart--but I mean in the hyperbolic sense!)

He tries not to draw attention to some of his softer, sweeter qualities, but they do exist, and it’s far from impossible that somebody might catch a glimpse of something that might make them reconsider their impression of him as a mean asshole with nothing redeemable to him.

He works as a physical therapist, putting people through their paces without mercy...but there’s always the distinct sense that he’s not just trying to be a slave-driver for the hell of it, he genuinely seems to believe his patients can do what he’s asking them to do; that they will achieve their recovery goals, if they’re willing to commit to it. Lots of people he’s worked with come back to thank him for that, saying that they hated him at the time but now, in retrospect, they don’t know if they’d have gotten the same results with somebody who’d been softer on them, or who didn’t believe in them as much.

He visits public parks often in his downtime, where he can be seen either feeding water fowl or playing chess. When it’s the former, he always has researched and reasonably healthy treats for the ducks and geese and swans-- and if he sees anyone else throwing bread or anything that could be harmful to them, he’ll go a bit out of his way to drop that tidbit on them, just in case they didn’t know. If the latter, he tends to make quiet conversation with his chess opponents, usually old folks who don’t have much else to do or anyone to do it with than come to the park and play chess early in the mornings. He asks after their lives and pets and kids or grandkids and if any need help with their walkers or wheelchairs, he’s gentlemanly enough to assist with neither complaint nor comment.

There’s his brother, too, Brick (Horrorfell Sans), and lots of little things in the way they interact with each other. He taught himself sign for his brother, but avoids using it because he knows Brick is learning slowly and feels bad when King knows more words and can speak much faster than him. He’ll drop anything, of any importance, if Brick is with him and looks even remotely like he might need to get out of there. He keeps an (admittedly very functional and sturdy) prosthetic leg that’s old and scratched and beaten up and hasn’t even considered looking into getting a new one on the Surface because Brick built it for him and that means something.

King is quick with a snippy or harsh comment, but just as quick to realize if it cut deeper than it was meant to and he’ll never touch on that topic again. He has a habit of, however backhandedly, reminding people to eat or drink water because he notices when it’s been awhile and they may have forgotten and could suffer for it. He doesn’t hesitate to insert himself into arguments and altercations, especially ones that look one-sided, to deescalate and ensure that, if at all possible, no one gets hurt.

In short... King cares, a lot, about a lot of people and a lot of things he might wish he didn’t, but he does nevertheless.

He may not be a good man, but he’s not really a bad one either, and all of these things are just little examples of what someone could see in action to realize that maybe they had the wrong idea about the type of person King was... or at least that their picture of him, whatever that picture may be, was incomplete.

It’ll probably never be ‘love at first sight’ or ‘perfect meet cute’ with him, but he’s not unlovable or irredeemable-- a ‘slow burn’ sounds just about right for the way somebody might decide he’s worth the trouble of scaling those emotional walls.

[afairytalestray]

Tuggoffelees 1 and Black&White Family 2

I can’t believe I’ve gotten to Part 3 of this series and I’m only now mentioning my favourite ship of all time! Tuggoffelees, my OTP, my beloved. As always, all hcs in this series will be pre-canon, if we accept the musical as the present day canon. Here’s my take on how Misto’s relationship with Tugger and with his half siblings develops :) (consistent tense usage? I don’t know her) (masterpost here!)

Tugger was totally enamoured by Mistoffelees from day one. They didn’t meet until after Munkustrap and Demeter’s ball (the one after Bomba/Demeter/Misto’s arrival in the Junkyard, which Misto skipped due to still fearing the other Cats), when Tugger happens across Misto dancing and practising his magic in a quiet corner by himself. For the first time in his life, the Rum Tum Tugger is rendered speechless, and just sits and watches in silent awe for like half an hour until Misto realises he’s there. Misto is initially very wary of Tugger, having heard about his flirty and flighty nature, but Tugger is so warm and genuine in his admiration of Misto’s abilities that he struggles to see what the stories were on about. The two immediately bond. They both have very great fears of violence and abandonment by family members/Macavity, which allow them to feel comfortable with one another and understand each other on a deep level better than anyone else in very little time. 

Misto, despite his own massive crush, is extremely oblivious to Tugger’s true feelings for him for a long time; after all, in what universe would the most popular and attractive Cat in the tribe see weird, skittish little him as anything more than a friend? But Tugger thinks he’s the greatest thing since sliced bread, and despite his fickle tendencies, is doggedly determined when he decides on something. He can’t put his finger on what exactly Misto makes him feel right away, but he knows that it’s good. He at first only recognises it as a weird and confusing desire to spend all his time only with him, and only after someone else points out that he’s not been up to his usual flirty shenanigans in a while. He struggles to explain it; since he’s one of the only ones Misto is able to talk to at that point, he’s one of the only ones who sees him for the fun, warm, and high-key sassy tom he is behind the shyness. It took a very long (and naturally embarrassing) talk with his father to help him work out what exactly he was feeling, and at Old Deuteronomy’s advice he resolved to pursue a serious relationship with Misto. It takes a while, partially because Misto seems to be immune to all Tugger’s best moves (read: oblivious to their real intention and therefore assumes he’s joking), and also because Tugger gets all heart-eyed and tongue-tied whenever Misto smiles at him - the usually suave rockstar Cat becomes a pile of goo.  After all his moves fail, Tugger is at a loss of what to do. In the end, he manages it completely by accident.

Misto is a perfectionist and extremely prone to over-working. Tugger’s insistence on being close by/helping him practise is the only reason he doesn’t wipe out basically all the time. Tugger finds him one evening when he’s pushed himself too far, exhausted and aching and barely able to walk. Tugger’s den is closer, so he picks him up and carries him back there - Misto is asleep long before Tugger lays him down on the blankets. He’s kinda mad - half at Misto for ignoring his own limits, half at himself for not being there to help him - but struggles to stay angry with him when he’s very clearly in pain. He confronts him the next day, which confuses Misto, who’s not really used to having people care about him the way Tugger does. Misto questions why it’s bothering Tugger so much, which prompts him to angrily blurt out that it sucks so much to see someone you love hurt themself like that and not seem to care. He doesn’t realise what he’s saying until he’s said it. It hangs in the air awkwardly for a few moments before Tugger throws caution to the wind and launches into a full confession of his feelings for him. He gets on a roll and doesn’t stop until Misto kisses him (in so learning that that is the best and only guaranteed way to shut Tugger up). From there things develop very quickly. To exactly no one’s surprise they become the youngest mated pair in Jellicle memory at the next ball. Old D bawls like a kitten he’s so happy. 

Tugger and Mistoffelees grew very close very quickly, which did wonders for Misto’s confidence and both of their self-esteem. It did, however, also strain Alonzo and Tugger’s already rocky relationship to near breaking point. Alonzo, having learned of Misto’s story and his mother’s death, feels incredibly guilty for turning away from him. He becomes jealous of how quickly Tugger was able to get close to Misto while he still struggles to even get him to talk to him, and thinks Tugger is an obnoxious bad influence and warns Misto against him. Tugger is normally fairly easygoing and happy to let rumours roll off him like water off a duck’s back, he even sometimes enjoys them and encourages them if he thinks they’re amusing. However, this he takes personally, and very seriously (as he will with any disparagement of his relationship with Misto, or suggestion that he doesn’t take it seriously). Tugger feels very protective of Misto, knowing very well the pain of being on the receiving end of his eldest brother’s rage, and of their blossoming relationship; he asserts that Alonzo should have gone after Misto when his mother attacked him, and that it’s Alonzo’s own damn fault he doesn’t have a relationship with Misto and it’s got nothing to do with Tugger. It becomes a very sore point of contention between the two of them.

Once Misto is more comfortable in himself and who he is, he begins to slowly build a bond with his half siblings. He becomes more comfortable with Victoria quickly, they both enjoy hanging out without really communicating, just enjoying each other’s company in peace. Victoria is deaf. She can lip-read, but Misto is very determined to learn sign language, and when he gets reasonably competent at that it becomes their main method of communication.

Alonzo is a lot trickier, the poor guy still feels so guilty. Misto holds no resentment towards him at all, he’s really happy Alonzo doesn’t hate him and totally understands why he couldn’t see him back then when everything was still fresh and painful for him - he doesn’t blame him at all. But he can’t seem to get that into Alonzo’s head. Every time it comes up all Alonzo can think about is that if he had just been more mature/compassionate/accepting back then Misto wouldn’t have gone through everything he did. 

Alonzo now desperately wants a relationship with his little brother, but his guilt makes it so he struggles horribly at communicating with him and is awkward around him, which in turn makes Misto nervous and uncomfortable (even more than he generally was at that time), which makes it even worse for poor Lonz. He becomes very protective of Misto as he feels like it’s the only thing he can now do for him (if he didn’t do it before then he’ll sure as hell make up for it now). This, unfortunately, tends to result in him getting into fights. He and Tugger have been and always will be chalk and cheese, but he also argued with his mother and now refuses to speak to her. When Mungojerrie and Rumpleteazer arrived in the Junkyard, freshly escaped from Macavity and seeking refuge, it really freaked Misto out, and Alonzo immediately took a very hard stance against them and wouldn’t give them a chance. He got into a physical fight with Bombalurina that had to be broken up by Munkustrap when she wouldn’t let him close to her den (where Misto and Demeter had holed up). He has now begrudgingly accepted the twins, but keeps his guard up around them. 

As his and Misto’s relationship improved, the awkwardness ended up dissipating completely and the two became quite close. The protectiveness, however, never did go away. It toned down a lot, but at any given moment Alonzo is always ready and willing to throw hands for his little brother and sister.

[zuffer-weird-girl]

No way out...

Drinking with the gang.

That was supposed to be joyful one, isn't that right? One single moment where you just can say fuck the world and enjoy the least bit of sanity you're suppose to have while being a part of the league... well, now Paranormal Liberation Front.

At least the clothes and the condition of living were better than sharing a room in a dirty bar or just moving into abandoned buildings...

He wasn't someone who ever thought about getting lucky on this shit called life of his. Yet now he had some fucking food and a partner to just wrap his arm around their waist, and behind closed doors kiss amd fuck with all his heart content.

And it made it better when your morals happen to be similiar with his ones. You didn't gave two shits about Shigaraki's plans besides having a huge respect towards him... somehow.

He knew about how you lost your parents to heroes. Two people whose was only trying to provide for their kids only to be caught stealing food at the wrong moment and wrong place...

Despite all of his issues and yours. You two made a good match... and he was, dare he say, happy. More happier than he ever was.

Right now, on the middle of drinking your heads off, Toga and Twice had come up with a game. Throwing a fucking knife around and just hoping no one got actually hurt by it. Simple, if you catched the bottle without breaking it, you had to tell a story or just do something stupid.

Similiar to truth and dare but... a bit more spice on it.

"CATCH (Y/N)! OH SHIT DUCK!" Twice yelled and Dabi didn't even bothered to move as his arm continued on your shoulders as you merely lifted one of your fingers up and stopped the knife on mid air.

"Metallokinesis". Your quirk was quite an ordinary but by no means less useful.

"Buuuu you're no fun (Y/n)-chan!" Toga whined on her seat with a pout as you chuckled and rotted the knife on the air while swirling your finger along with it.

"Right right, as if I would be let to be stabbed here." You commented, giggling at the snort Dabi let out before you actually grabbed the knife "So, embarrassing thing or story of my life?"

"You just happen to be the second most mysterious one of this league excluding crusty over there." Spinner pointed with his can at Dabi "Say something about no one here knows."

"Huh..." you poked the tip of knife on your chin with a thoughtful expression before letting out a gasp.

"Found one aparently." Mr. Compress spike from his seat.

"Welp, guess it wouldn't hurt to it." You leaned more on Dabi as he sighed in content.

Neither his own blue flames could compare to the warm feeling you brought to his uncharacteristically cold soul.

"There was this one last time I saw my brother. He was such a dick, but he took care of me after my parents died so I own my life to him kinda of."

"Brother huh?" He opened of his turquoise eyes in amusement. You never mentioned about a brother even after everything you told him about your past, so that was new.

"Yep. He told me how to especially control my quirk-" you levitated the knife and made her twirl in the air "His quirk wasn't something useful sadly.. his hands turned into diamonds but for only what? Two minute s or less I guess. Yet he never stopped being a fighter and a trouble maker." You giggled.

"You're a magnet to shitty assholes. HE SOUNDED NICE!" Dabi only threw a half glare at Twice as Toga giggled.

"But back on. One time we were walking on the middle of the night, comminting some robberies to put at least a piece of bread on the table... but then we just happened to cross by the current number one hero himself!" You spoke on a venom tone who only made him snort. He could care two fucks about Enji yet it was fun to see how fucking pissed you are with the bastard.

"And he beat your brother's ass." Spinner spoke as you only took a sip form your own drink.

"He beat my and his ass." You let go of the drink "My brother just happened to pull me out of the way of his flames, he used his quirk to prevent a potential burn yet he got some scars outra of it."

Dabi suddenly tensed... he remembered one night he was doing his researches fro recruits... Usually you would go with him, but Shigaraki demanded your services for something else on that night...

"Scars?" Toga asked with a sick smile.

"Yeah. A burn that crossed from his jaw until the midsection of his nose and a deep cut that crossed his forehead to his lef cheek. Almost lost vision of one eye."

Memories clouded his mind... it was cold... his footsteps echoed on the empty streets before they come to a stop when he saw someone.

"He got burns all over his body yet his hands remained intact... probably because of his quirk sure."

.

.

.

The guy stared at him while he demanded to be on the league... the quirk wasn't useful to them... the man was cocky and didn't care about morals and didn't even gave him a reason to be there, just a "I need to."

.

.

"He was always a thick head. If he wanted something than he get it or got beaten up because of it... so when Endeavoyr fought him... he gave his best." You spike proudly as a shen of sweat started to appear on Dabi's forehead.

.

.

Doing a backflip after jumping and dodging one of his attacks he cursed and sended a huge wave of flames towards the man whose shouted curses at him.

.

.

"Then what happened?"

"Endeavour focused more on my brother as his sidekick chased me. My brother shouted at me to run that he would find me on our usual spot...then I made a run for it and attracted the sidekick far away from the fight to not cause my brother more trouble."

.

.

The guy was totally fucked up... laying on the concret as Dabi took one bar of metal from a trash can and stared down at him... the motherfucker made him loose a few of his stables so he had to fucking pay...

"Still alive I see..." he muttered in boredoom as a thunder echoed... rain drops appeared and fell on them as his victim's haw trembled yet his (E/c) remained that pathetic determined infuriated look.

"F-Fuck.. off..."

"Huh." he heated up with his quirk one part of the metal and pushed against the guy's chest as he steeped on him with one foot... enjoying hearing his screams of pain. "Not as confident as it looks huh..?

.

.

"I couldn't find him and honestly it was for the better. No deaths or prisons were notification so that's how I knew and know he is okay.." you smiled as Dabi clenched his hand on his leg as his breath quickened.

.

.

He tortured the man on that filfh and wet alley... the guy's was with closed eyes, whimpering yet his body still thought to stay alive...

"Last words scumbag?" He arched one of his eyebrows up as he had the burning hot piece of metal right on aim on where the human heart lived.

He gagged on his own blood and coughed... opening one of his beaten up eyes at the sky as he muttered something before Dabi pushed and kicked down the bar of metal... letting the man at least exhale his one last final breath...

.

.

"I met Dabi one week after and the rest you guys know." You leaned back in smugness as they clapped but furrowed your eyebrows when Dabi shuffled his arm away from you noticing how tense he was.

He now remembered... his last fucking word was a name... Your name.

Your brother died by his hands...

"I need a cigarette." Dabi muttered before leaving the room abruptly while everyone stared at him in a mix of worry and confusion.

"Is Dabs okay? gO CRY LIKE A LITTPE BITCH-!" You sighed at Twice's comment before using your quirk to threw the knife at Spinner who yelled when it got stuck on the wall he was leaving against at.

On the balcony Dabi exhaled shakily a cloud of nicotine as he stared at the sky with a regretful look... he killed a member of your family... one you cherished and hoped to see again and believed he was still out there... breathing.

"Never took you for the type to just leave a room to smoke baby." You hugged him from behind and he looked over his shoulder to see you smilling sweetly up at him...

Gosh he felt terrible... should he tell you or be selfish...?

"Hey... are you.. okay?" You started as you got by his side when he didn't teased you back for your comment.

He stared at the cigarette on his hand and sighed before flipping it out of his hand and watching it fall...

"Doll..." he sighed before giving you a one sided painful look "I'm... dammit." He scoffed, burying his half burned face on his forearms... feeling your gentle carres and hugs didn't bringed him any calm like before because he fucking knew what he had done...

"Hey.. whatever it is is okay my prince." You cupped his face on your hand and smiled up at him "Just tell me..."

He furrowed his eyebrows as a wind passed by... his indigo strays of hair flew as he stared in remorse at your face...

"What you told back there..." he sighed before looking away from you as your hand dropped and tugged on his own "(Y/n)... I am.. sorry."

"For what?" You giggled in astonishment "Dabs, it was not your fault my brother got into a fight with Enji! I'm going to find him again as soon as this hero society is collapsed." You smiled but soon it fell when Dabi only brushed his scarred hand on his face and looks as he looked at the city...

"Dabi?" You spike after a few minutes of silence before he muttered, shoulders hunched.

"Remember that night I came back to the bar and had almost half of my staples out? And when you shouted at me I said I killed the motive of me being all beaten up and we started dating?"

"Yeah it was when I admitted my feelings towards you dumbass. What's with it?" You nervously giggled

The way his turquoise eyes locked with you were what hurted you the most. It showed his true emotions... Fear, regret, sorrow... grief...

"Doll... you wont be meeting your brother anymore... he won't come back..." he managed to whisper but soon a shot in his heart was felt by the way your eyes widened...

You took a few steps away from him and he hissed mentally when he stepped closer to you and you only got more far away from him.

"No..." tears started to gather on your eyes as Dabi furrowed his eyebrows and extended his hand towards you only to widen his eyes when you used your quirk to move plataforms of metal to make an escape... far away from him.

He shouted your name when you jumped while using your quirk to get on the ground... running away from... everything as he tried to follow... ignoring the questions from his commurates.

.

.

.

He couldn't even find you since the heroes started to attack...

Hawks was a traitor. This didn't surprised him one bit...

Yet what caught him out of guard was the fact that both Twice and you were... killed.

Jin had at least made it to Toga to speak his last words to her... but you in favor of saving him, got the most hurt.

Couldn't even mutter a word to him as he held your limb body on his arms.

He was sad... but something more consumed him.

Anger. His wrath was enough to keep a smile on his face as he burned the wings of the responsible for his lover's death.

He was a bastard that deserved living on a personal hell... yet, he could at least keep alive to keep the promise of crushing this hero fake society and comply to his lover's words that always made him want to tear up.. but he couldn't due to his condition.

"I love your smile Dabi."

[winters-blue-children]

After Josh's attack, he gets an unexpected late-night visit from Buck. However little he may have in common with his good friend's little brother, what he knows is that he doesn't want to be alone.

“What are you doing here?” Josh blinks dumbly at the man before him. Behind his front door was Evan Buckley, his colleague turned close friend’s little brother. At half-past ten on a Sunday night no less.

“Ooof.” Buck pulls his handsome features into a grimace as his eyes wash over the cuts and bruises, still swollen and painful, but not as bad as the night before.

“It looks worse than it is,” Josh says shortly. He sighs before taking a step back and beckoning a hand behind him. “Come on in.”

Buck nods in thanks. He closes the door gently behind him as he takes a look around the other man’s apartment.

“I suppose Maddie told you, huh? I should have known.”

“She just didn’t want you to be alone.” Buck follows him into the kitchen and sets a bottle of red down on the island, a peace offering. A brief, awkward look crosses his face for a split second before he masks it with a shy grin. “Do you wanna talk about it?”

Hell no, Josh doesn’t want to talk about it. “Maybe after a glass or two,” he finally says.

“Attaboy,” Buck says with a grin that should be too attractive to be legal.

Josh looks away and pretends to busy himself looking for wine glasses—he pretends not to notice. Nothing to make him feel even more self-conscious than usual like having a really hot guy in his apartment.

“Us solos gotta stick together,” Buck says as he drops himself down heavily on Josh’s couch.

“Oh no no no,” Josh cuts him off right there, his tone somewhere between annoyed and exasperated. He hands the other man a glass of wine before taking a good drink from his own. He’s careful to leave a good two feet of space between them as he sits.

Buck tries to meet his eyes, but Josh stubbornly evades him.

Fuck, they barely know each other, Josh thinks. Where the hell could this night be going?

“What is it?” Buck presses as the other man refuses to meet his gaze.

“Don’t… just don’t compare me and you. It’s—” Josh groans and drops his head back onto the couch. “It’s embarrassing. As if I wasn’t humiliated enough,” he adds. Poor gay, single Josh, who thought for a second that some nice, sweet guy could have possibly been interested in him.

What an idiot he was.

Buck awkwardly turns his head away. He couldn’t honestly say that anything like that had ever happened to him before. But he hopes he can be a good friend about it. When Maddie told him what happened to Josh, he was shocked for a moment, and then furious. Not that he was even remotely close to the guy, but he still wanted to do something to help.

Which is why he came over tonight. Unannounced.

“What did you mean by that?” He eventually asks.

Josh stares at him.

“Don’t compare me and you,” Buck waves his hand between them. “We’re not so different, you and I.”

“Ha!” Josh can’t help but let out a laugh, which he immediately regrets because it pulls at the cuts on his face. He winces and touches his tender lip. “Come on,” he looks at Buck, eyebrows raised because it’s so obvious.

Buck stares at him like it’s not.

“Look at you!” Josh finally says. “You could get anyone you want! Man or woman, people are constantly jumping at the chance to get with you! Tell me I’m wrong!”

Buck pulls a face and looks away. He’s shaking his head when Josh cuts him off.

“Please! Firefighter. Hero. The brave and courageous fireman who literally fought his way back from hell after a life-changing injury in a serial bomber attack. You’re amazing,” Josh says with a grin before his expression turns somber. “And then there’s me. Sad, pathetic loser who can’t even get an online date that’s not a scam.”

“You’re not a loser,” Buck says quietly.

They nurse their drinks as a quiet moment passes between them.

“I’m just… humiliated,” Josh finally says.

“I’m sorry,” Buck says quietly. He doesn’t really know what else to say.

Josh is starting to think spending the night alone would have been a better option when Buck speaks up again.

“I bet I could tell some war stories that would make you laugh.”

Josh snorts, already chuckling at what Evan Buckley might consider a dating war story.

“Come on,” Buck throws him a bright grin, “What d’ya say?”

“Alright,” Josh nods. “Give me your best shot.”

Buck’s grin grows wider and he shifts, turning his body to face him on the couch. “Alright, picture this,” he raises his hands like he’s painting a picture. “First date, with a beautiful woman. She’s older.” Buck fucking winks at him. “And mature. And I mean, I am just head over heels for this woman. I swear, I’d never met anyone like her before. Never met anyone who made me feel that way before, you know? Like those butterflies in your gut that tell you it’s something really special.”

Josh doesn’t know, but he’s not going to mention it. He swallows and beckons the other man to continue.

“So we’re at dinner. Really nice restaurant. And I’m doing my best to keep my cool and not say anything embarrassing. We’re eating Italian by the way. Everything’s going great… and then I start choking.”

Josh raises his eyebrows.

“I don’t mean I’m not able to perform,” Buck clarifies with a stern look. “I mean, I am literally choking on my food.”

“Oh my god,” Josh bursts out laughing.

“The waiter tries the heimlich—nothing. She’s pounding me on the back and I can’t fucking breathe. I pass out.”

“No way.”

“There’s no time to wait for the paramedics! No, no, no… in 911 operator fashion, she calls for help and…”  

It takes him a second. “Emergency tracheotomy?”

Buck nods and ducks his head, hands raised in finger guns. “Got it in one.”

“You’re serious?” Josh laughs. “That is insane.”

“It was mortifying. But also kind of hot to have a chick save your life like that.”

“Okay, you were right,” Josh admits, bowing his head in defeat. “That was a pretty bad date.”

Buck sighs and looks a bit forlorn. “Hot date with a beautiful woman ruined by complimentary bread.”

Josh snorts and takes a drink from his glass.

The two of them lapse into a comfortable silence. Buck finishes his wine and carefully looks over before speaking, “I really am sorry for what happened to you. I can’t even imagine what that feels like…”

“I don’t need you feeling sorry for me.”

“I don’t feel sorry for you,” Buck clarifies. “I think you’re feeling sorry for yourself. And speaking from personal experience, after the last six months I’ve had… feeling sorry for yourself doesn’t get you very far.”

Josh shakes his head. “Having hope is the worst part. I actually thought, for a minute, I actually thought this cute, funny, charismatic guy was attracted to me. I feel like such a moron.”

“You’re not a moron, you were the victim of a sociopath. I’m serious,” Buck says when the other man rolls his eyes. “There’s so many crazies out there, you’re lucky all they wanted was your wallet.”

But there’s something in the way that Buck says it, a twinge of something dark and bitter that causes Josh to frown and do a double-take. “What do you mean by that?”

Buck suddenly seems to realize he said too much. “N-nothing,” he stutters, looking away. “Forget I said anything.”

“Buck. Tell me.”

Buck looks genuinely uncomfortable for the first time that evening. “Alright,” he finally says. He bites his bottom lip and asks, “do you want to hear the story of my actual worst date?”

“What could be worse than your date cutting into your windpipe?”

Buck shifts uneasily and starts, “it was a year or two after school. I was… kind of lost at the time. Doing a bunch of random jobs, I didn’t really know what I wanted to do with my life. I was sleeping around… a lot. And, one night… I met this guy at a bar.”

Josh can’t help the flutter in his chest. Maddie mentioned more than once to him that her brother likes both, but the vibes he got were hard to read the few times they met. He didn’t want to get his hopes up.

But when Buck continues, his words are the last thing he wants to hear.

“Anyway, we really hit it off. We talked for hours, and then I brought him home for a night cap.” Buck pauses and frowns. “The weird thing is that I always considered myself having a pretty high tolerance for alcohol. In school, I was the one who never puked. Last one standing at the end of the night, you know?”

When Josh realizes Buck is looking at him waiting for an answer, he stutters, “kind of.”

“There was no way a half dozen drinks over three hours at the bar plus a light beer, leaves my head spinning and me not able to see straight.”

Josh’s heart drops into his stomach. “Buck, did he…”

“He tried. It was real fucked up. But I managed to sock him in the face and then I stumbled-ran into the bathroom.”

“Did you call 911?”

“See now, that would have been smart,” Buck nods. “Instead, I threw myself out of a second-story window and broke my arm in two places.”

“Shit, Buck.” Josh doesn’t know what else to say. “That was…”

“Attempted rape? Yeah,” Buck says dryly. “So they tell me. I guess he didn’t think I was a sure thing. Shocking, I know.” He adds, after seeing the look on Josh’s face.

“That’s awful.”

“I was fine. Nothing actually happened.”

“That doesn’t make it okay, Buck.”

Josh must have made a face because Buck looks away. He hopes it wasn’t pitying.

“It was a long time ago. I’m over it.”

But the thing is, Josh has heard enough over the end of a phone line to know that this isn’t something a person just gets over. He knows there can be scars, deep and invisible. And if not properly cared for, they can fester.

“Is that why you don’t date guys?” He asks softly.

“Nah,” Buck finally says after a while. He gives him a small half-smile. “Just haven’t met the right guy.”

Josh feels his cheeks warm and he suddenly fixes his gaze on a spot on his lap as if it were the most fascinating thing he’d ever seen. “What I would give for someone to think of me as the right guy.”

“You’ll find someone,” Buck says lightly.

Josh doesn’t feel very confident about that. Not when the dating pool is already limited due to his sexuality. Add in the muggers and would-be rapists and it’s suddenly a pool he has no interest in jumping in.

“What’s wrong?” Buck asks.

“It just… feels bad complaining about a few scrapes and bruises when you just told me… you know.”

Buck winces and looks away. “I shouldn’t have said anything.”

“No, it’s fine! I’m glad you told me. I’m glad you feel like you can confide in me. I mean,” Josh swallows and takes a shaky breath. “We barely know each other.”

Buck’s eyes drop. The normally bright crystal baby blues suddenly look grey in the dim light of his living room. Josh kind of has the feeling Buck’s not quite in the room anymore.

“I never told anyone what really happened.”

“Not even the police?”

Buck slowly shakes his head. “The guy was long gone by the time the paramedics got to me. I told them I drank too much and fell out the window trying a dumb stunt. I never mentioned the guy and… I guess they just ignored whatever they found in my system.”

Buck pauses and looks up. “I never even told Maddie. Please don’t…” His voice trails off, looking more vulnerable than Josh had ever seen him.

“Of course not,” Josh says quickly. “Thank you, for telling me.”

Buck nods slowly. “Therapy isn't really my thing, but… it kind of feels good to get that off my chest. You’re a really good guy, Josh. Anyone would be lucky to have you.”

It was kind of touching, except the context was trauma and gay-bashing and how is anyone supposed to trust anyone in this day and age? He wants to be mad. To scream that good people don’t deserve bad things happening to them. But instead, he just feels tired.

“I just want someone to notice me,” Josh says softly. “I mean really notice me.”

Buck smiles bitterly. “Don’t we all.”

“So there is a guy.”

Buck groans and looks away. But there’s a smile tugging at his lips. A welcome sight after the melancholy of their evening.

Josh smiles. “You don’t have to lie to me, you know.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I know pining when I see it.”

“You don’t know—”

“Eddie Diaz?”

Buck sputters helplessly and it says more than an entire novel. “How did you know?” He finally asks.

“Oh, I’ve heard things,” Josh teases lightly.

Buck pulls a face. “From Maddie, right?”

“Not just from Maddie,” Josh clarifies. “But yes, she is convinced that you two are meant for each other and that you’ll grow old together after raising that sweet boy of his.”

Buck chuckles and looks genuinely embarrassed. The way he gets whenever someone mistakens him and Eddie as a couple, or calls Christopher his son.

“It’s… it’s the look on your face when you talk about him,” Josh explains. “It’s like he is your entire world, and nothing else matters to you but his happiness.”

“Do I really look like that?” Buck sounds honest-to-god surprised.

Josh nods, eyebrows raised high. He saw the look on poker night when Buck couldn’t stop gushing over Christopher. He saw it the day Maddie invited him to happy hour with the 118 crew and Buck was glued to Eddie’s side the entire night. Never has he seen a man so in love, than the way Buck looks at Eddie.

The one upside to the painful jealous gnawing in his gut—knowing that he might never find a man to look at him the same way, is that it doesn’t get his hopes up about Buck. The last thing he needs is to be the guy pining over his friend’s hot brother. Her really, really hot brother.

“Yeah,” Josh finally says with a small grin.

“Shit.”

“You’re in love with him,” Josh says simply. “It’s so obvious, a blind man could see it.”

“Everyone except him apparently,” Buck says forlornly. He sighs heavily and finally admits it out loud. “I’m in love with him.”

He looks to Josh, a mix of desperation and pleading in his eyes. “What do I do?”

“Babe, I wish I had the answers for you,” Josh grins softly. “But I don’t. And I think you might be on your own for this one. My advice? Let him know how you really feel. His answer might surprise you. And let’s be real… people like us could really use a win right now.”

Buck tilts his head, a small grin on his lips. “You know… I didn’t think I’d be baring my soul tonight.”

Josh gives him a light shove with his elbow. “And I didn’t think I’d have the pleasure of the company of such a cute guy in my apartment.”

Buck laughs. “I guess I’m alright. Not exactly a catch.”

Josh manages a derisive snort. “You are totally a catch.”

“I’m a recovering sex addict in love with his straight best friend.” Buck chuckles and tries to laugh it off but Josh reaches over and grabs his hand in a firm grip. He’s stern and confident and feeling uncharacteristically sure of himself.

“Evan Buckley, you are a wonderful man. You are strong, and courageous, and loving, and you have so much to give.”

Buck blinks and takes a slow shuddering breath. “Thank you,” he says softly. “You know, I came over tonight to make you feel better.”

“You did,” Josh says honestly. “And I definitely appreciate the company.”

And then Buck does something completely unexpected. He leans over and presses a gentle kiss to his lips. It’s soft and sweet and only lasts a brief moment. But it causes those butterflies in his stomach that Buck was talking about earlier.

“Um… what was that?” Josh asks hoarsely after they part.

“I just felt like doing it,” Buck whispers.

Josh grins and presses a hand against the other man’s chest. He pushes him away gently. His cheeks burn and he really hopes it’s not noticeable.  

“Alright, slugger. Maybe it’s time to sleep it off.”

Buck laughs. “Don’t worry, I’m acting of my own volition.”

Josh leans back and grins. He doesn’t need to figure out Buck’s misguided drama. He knows where he stands, and he certainly would like to think that Maddie had given him enough warning about her unpredictable brother to fend off any foolish advances.  

Though not necessarily unwanted.

“This was really great, Buck… but I don’t want you to regret anything.”

Buck nods solemnly and leans back, closing his eyes. “I don’t have the best impulse control,” he admits.

“You’re better than you think,” Josh murmurs.

Buck hums under his breath. “Maybe I should go.”

Josh laughs lightly. “No judgment, Buck.” He leans back as well and watches the ceiling. “It’s good that you’ve found someone, you know.”

“I guess,” Buck says softly. “Doesn’t feel great sometimes.”

Josh doesn’t say anything. He blinks slowly and closes his eyes. No one has the answers, and no one has the magical words that will fix the injustices of the world.

But for now, they sit in silence, enjoying each other’s company. And for a moment, everything is okay.  

[bowieandqueen11]

Hard To Come By / Elton John Imagine

Request: Hey there! It's been a while since I've requested anything, so if you're up for it, I think I'm gonna ask for some fluffy Elton x male reader, maybe after he's out of rehab if you're comfortable doing that? If not, don't worry about it, I don't mind when it happens! 😉💞 

Thank you my dear @fandom-star, I just watched Rocketman again for the fourth time so this is perfect!

Comments are always appreciated!

Rubbing his tired eyes with the insides of his calloused palms, Elton tried to wipe away the dry glazed over look, his eyelids crusted with the remnants of a forgotten dream.

He sat on that bench, waiting to meet you again for the first time in weeks. For the first time, since your last visit to the rehab clinic. He sits, legs outstretched on the sun-scorched grass, rainbow straw hat on his head, and navy blue, starry glasses he raises to perch on top of his nose again. His white suit crumples at the elbows as he folds his arms, flexing his fingers against the smooth material. Good hands for playing the piano, as his grandmother would always say, although he’s too frightened for that at the moment. Has been for a while now, really. He can wear these clothes, outfits that always make him easy to pick out of a crowd, but for the moment, he can’t seem to even find himself in a crowd of one.

The park he chose covered a wide area that could fit about three small houses. It was hilly with a tall tree or two near one hill. There were benches for people to sit in every corner and jogging tracks were all around the edges of the park. Flower hedges and bushes grew all around, making the park look more pleasant and attractive. This place would have been most beautiful at this time; it would have been so pleasurable to relax here and take in some cool fresh air as the two of you used to do when he and Bernie were only starting out, but his heart was hammering too loud against his suit breast to settle.

He watches the duck move through the small pond in front of him like it's got some kind of motor in its stomach, even though underneath the surface its legs are working hard to move it along at that speed. He finds himself lost, staring at the effort of that small being just to keep moving, keep afloat against the invisible stream, so much that he finds his head beginning to ache with it all.

Twirling his cane within his hand, he didn’t notice you at first. You walk over to Elton, turning to sit, feeling the slight give in the wood, any creak being lost beneath the sound of the children throwing bread into the water with high giggles. You sat looking at him for a moment, not with the impatience of one waiting for something to happen, but with the feeling of one savouring the moment. You couldn’t help but notice how tired he looked, how bloodshot his eyes seemed.

‘Not getting enough sleep, are you? You never do these days.’

He started slightly, turning to look at you with lips lifting into a welcoming smile. A blush rises high on his cheeks as you gaze back at him.

‘I don’t have time to sleep these days, I’m too busy writing songs again.’

‘Finally touched a piano again, hm?’

He sighs, leaning forward slightly to place the palms of his hands against his forehead.

‘I’m still worried it’s not enough. That I’m not enough. Not without the drugs, that is.’

His stomach shifts uneasily as he speaks his truth, and he notices that the hands that he’s dropped down to hug himself with are pinching tightly into his skin. He releases their grip, but then he can't figure out what to do with them, so instead they clasp and unclasp each other as if in constant need of touch and reassurance. 

‘Excuse my language, but that’s complete bollocks, isn’t it Reggie? Talent like yours is hard to come by, and it doesn’t just go away. Now come on, give us a whistle of what you’re working on, and I’ll let Bernie know if it’s rubbish or not.’

He smiles fondly as he leans towards you, his warm breath in your ear, then she hums the song the two of you used to do during the local karaoke nights back after school. Your lips, the ones you’re trying to keep looking pensive and serious, creep into a grin as he begins to hum. Slowly, you join in, until the two of you are shouting lyrics into the warm air, both of you ignoring the strange looks from runners passing by, or the small ducklings who patter curiously closer to you. All the two of you see, is each other.

When excited, and happy, Elton always had a tell tale sign: he would nudge his glasses up a little higher on his nose. It was as if he thought those midnight rims ought to sit up and pay attention too, as if he and his glasses were a a team, silently focusing together. 

When the two of you had stopped singing wildly out of key, and your breathing had rolled down to breathless laughter, you put your hand softly on the shoulder of your best friend, and he gladly clasps his own on top of it.

There the two of you sat, the sun setting in the sky like fresh colours brushed upon an artist's canvas, as if those rays were destined to create a great work of art, one given to those open to capturing simple moments in the soul.

[mail-me-a-snail]

In the Woods Somewhere

the Hugo Wallace fic, as promised :3

tag list: @crypticphantom17​ @immabethehero​ @iv0ry-keys​

In the deep, secluded wood surrounding the small village of Honeycliff, which has quite the low literacy rate, there walks a Bird Man, using his lantern to guide himself through the night and ward off preying souls. He offers flowers and useful, charming plants, but never gets too close. He is kind. His voice sounds like the wind passing along the branches in the overhang, or as the frightened novice hunter told the townsfolk, the soft padding of a wolf prowling through the undergrowth.

 The hunter tells them all about his encounter with the Bird Man in the town square, where any willing ear has formed a circle around him.

 "First, a bloody plague," complains the farmer's wife, once the hunter finishes his story, "Now a bloomin' bird man in these woods. I don't want the kids runnin' around there no more."

 "Perhaps he's our cure," the lumberjack suggests, "Them herbs might do us good."

 "What might do you good, good sirs and madams," A new voice interrupts, his cane clacking against the cobblestone, "is keeping ten feet away from each other. This plague transmits through touch, don't you know."

 "Docta Wallace," the farmer's wife exclaims, and that is indeed who the stranger is. "We didn't see you there. The hunter was just telling us a story about the Bird Man of the woods."

 "The what of the woods?" Hugo Wallace, the plague doctor dispatched to Honeycliff a few months prior, swings his beak around to look at the hunter. He doesn't miss the big gulp that bobs the hunter's Adam's apple, even through the yellow tinted lenses of his goggles.

 “The Bird Man, doctor," the man explains, and retells the story. Hugo fiddles with the raven topper of his cane. "I swear it on me mum's gravestone, Dr. Wallace, he's real! He has a beak like yours and this great lantern, bright as the sun, it is!"

 "And on what night did you see this?"

 "Last night, sir!"

 Hugo's heart sinks, and then shoots up as he realizes what's exactly going on; they've mistaken him picking herbs in the dead of night as some sort of woodland monster. It all makes sense. He should say that it is actually him, but he doesn't. He feels that some sort of mystery would liven things up around Honeycliff.

 "Fairytales," Hugo sniffs, "Pish-posh. If I were you, hunter, I wouldn't spread such stories. As the farmer's wife said, we have enough trouble on our hands—my hands—as it is with the plague. We don't need a corvid walking around on two legs as well."

 "But it was real," the hunter shakes his head frantically, "Saw it with me own two eyes."

 “Those two eyes of yours better be seeing the door to your home soon," Hugo turns to the townsfolk, who have since made the circle bigger. "That goes for all of you! You are to return to your homes. Contact is highly dangerous."

 He taps his cane on the cobblestone. Everyone takes it as a sign to leave and they do, heads hanging and stomachs grumbling for the night's supper. The hunter trudges back into the woods with the lumberjack by his side.

 Hugo sighs in relief.

 "Bird Man," he scoffs, "Balderdash."

 ----

 The lumberjack goes home. He tells his seven sons and his wife the hunter's story over supper. His wife barely believes it, while the two twins of the seven children are in awe.

 The next morning, after school is let out, the lumberjack's twins tell their friends all about it. Being children, they believe that the Bird Man is real. They make up stories to scare each other, like the Bird Man being an actual raven who comes and steals people from their beds, or even that the Bird Man is a demon straight from Hell.

 Sister Bellum, a teacher at the school, is shaken to her core when she hears such utterance, and she doesn't take it lightly. The children get a scolding and are sent home.

 ----

 Hugo picks dandelions tonight. He has more than enough stores of yarrow and nightshade to last him a week. He thinks dandelions are beautiful. His lantern hangs from a stick, swinging as he walks through the woods. He ducks into a grove with curtain of lichen, spotting clumps of mycelium growing at the base of one of the trees. He puts the lantern behind him as he starts picking them gently.

 He freezes when someone speaks.

 "Oh, Lord—" a woman gasps, and the grass shuffles where she steps back. Hugo can't see anything but her silhouette from behind the lichen. But for the woman, she can see Hugo's large, sharp beaked silhouette against a lantern's light, like a shadow puppet show. "It's you! You are the Bird Man! I've found you."

 Hugo pauses. He's sweating under his mask, more than usual. He tries hard to remember how the hunter described the Bird Man's voice; croaky and soft. It wasn't his fault he had had a sore throat that night.

 "It is I," he croaks like a fat toad, "The Bird of these woods. What have you come for, human?"

 "My husband is as dead as a nail," she says, "There's no joy in his eyes anymore! It is like he's lost the life in them eyes. He doesn't attend to the crops!"

 Hugo realizes it's the farmer's wife from earlier. It sounds like her husband's drained of vitality. He knows just the herb. He digs around his bag and brings out a root of ginseng. He throws it onto the grass in front of her. She jumps back.

 "What is it?" She asks.

 "One of my herbs, my dear," Hugo explains, "It will revitalise your husband and bring him back to life, so to speak. It goes very well with tea."

 "T-thank you," she stutters, "Truly, this is a gift from God. I will never forget your kindness."

 Once she leaves, he comes out of the grove and puts his hands on his hips. "Bloody mess, this is." He shakes his head.

 ----

 Another woman interrupts his foraging the next night.

 "What is it?" Hugo croaks in frustration, "What do you want?"

 "Not herbs, good sir," she speaks well, especially for a citizen of Honeycliff. "But...to keep good company."

 “What are you saying?"

 "You are an attractive mystery, sir, and I have...thought about you, so to say. In ways the church might have me hung for—"

 Hugo's cheeks catch on fire as he blushes. "No, no!" He squawks, "I d-do not mingle with humans in such ways! Begone!"

 "But..."

 "I beg of you, begone!" He spreads his hands out like wings and curls his fingers into claws to make a big, scary shadow.

 The woman turns tail and runs away. Hugo settles down, everything neck up completely warm with embarrassment. He can't believe it. He just can't. A mysterious stranger turns up in the woods and someone from town just wants to bed it? The plague has made everyone truly lose their minds, Hugo would say.

 ----

 It is the baker that finds him the following night in the same grove.

 "Mr. Bird Man," the baker greets politely, a hint of Scottish on the tongue. "I believe you know why I've come."

 Hugo doesn't have to see him to know it's him. He's had the baker in his mind for quite some time. It makes his heart thump against his chest.

 "And what is that, dear baker?" Hugo says over the sound of his heart shaking. "Herbs? A cure for your ailment?"

 The baker, with his thick, muscular arms for lifting sacks of flour and rough, strong hands that he kneads dough with every day, and every one of those days Hugo watches from the bakery's display window, as the dough is folded and flattened and coated with flour then flattened again, always with those beautifully freckled knuckles worrying at it. The bread comes out golden brown and beautiful, because he's mastered his craft. Hugo longs for the days when he can go inside and actually pick up the bread instead of having it delivered to his house at the edge of the village. His hair is a fiery, shaggy red, like a sheepdog, as is his beard. His freckles are numerous.

 "No. Not plants, not weeds." The baker wrings his hands. "I've come for you."

 Silence. "What?" Hugo prompts, not daring to hope that he's asking what he thinks he's asking.

 "I find you are rather a beautiful mystery. A mystery I would like to unfold, if you'd have me. Unfold, as in...You already know."

 His heart explodes. He's dead, he's sure of it. This must be heaven. It's everything Hugo ever could've wanted.

 And yet...

 Even to the baker, despite the way he smiles so brightly and the charming puff of flour still in his beard, even to him Hugo (reluctantly) says, "No, thank you." As much as he wants those calloused hands to sandpaper his own and ruin him, he can't have it.

 In the morning, the baker claims the Bird Man had sent him away with mysterious and supposedly blessed herbs. They weren't mysterious or holy; they were clumps of yarrow, corn mint, and dandelions. He doesn't expect them to know them, though. He never lets anyone see his medical process or stashes. Hugo passes by the bakery and is surprised to find it completely packed. Everyone wants to hear about the latest encounter with the Bird Man.

 The doctor couldn't care less. He just wants a loaf of bread.

 He's pissed about the whole affair and rightly so. He can't stop the thoughts of the baker that enter his head—thoughts that would make Father Avery and the Sisters thump him over the head with their bibles and have him pray for a month straight.

 Hugo goes out again that night to the forest, picking another batch of herbs, mumbling angrily to himself the whole way.

 ----

 It is a hodgepodge of people who visit him over the next few nights, an even balance of men and women townsfolk. Even the hunter was among them. He said no to each of their sexual advances, though some by personal distaste rather than touch aversion.

 The ones he sends away spread all sorts of rumours.

 The Bird Man's voice changes with your personality! Hugo had forgotten to do the voice a couple of times. He had been tired!

 The Bird Man walks with a limp. He might've tripped over a rock trying to get into the grove one of those nights.

 They are all very amusing, in retrospect. Still, Hugo thinks they're amusing in the silly, childish way. It's a lot of good fun, even with the embarrassment of the one thing they all want.

 Eventually, the baker comes back, and keeps coming the next few nights.

 He doesn't talk at first, but Hugo knows it's him by his large silhouette. Hugo sits and so does the baker, and they stare at the approximate location of where the other would be. They want to talk, but what is there to say? Hugo's already declined. Hugo cannot have him and vice versa. It's too dangerous. His clothes—they're filthy with sickness. He doesn't know what he'll do if the baker gets sick.

 They see each other in the mornings and afternoons. The baker smiles at the doctor as he passes the window. It always does something funny to his stomach, but leaves a sour taste in its wake, like yarrow. He wishes they could stop playing this cat and mouse game. Hugo wants so badly to yell in the square that he is the fabled Bird Man, and it was nothing but balderdash this whole time, so the baker would snap out of it and fall in love with Hugo Wallace instead of this...shadow.

 In that scenario, love is possible, and there is no plague. It amuses him to no end.

 In the quiet of the nights, the time after, when Hugo heads home and lies in bed, staring up at his ceiling, he has...ideas.

 Thoughts.

 Thoughts of calloused hands holding his cheek like a warm ray of sunlight, ruffling his closely shorn, messy hair, the hair that his mother had affectionately told him reminded her of a, "Shaggy black sheepdog."

 Thoughts of those hands holding his, fitting so perfectly; the doctor's palms were smoothened soft by leather gloves.

 Thoughts of those hands going...farther. Holding him down by the wrists, taking what is theirs...ruining him entirely. If they can handle sacks of flour and turn dough into beautiful pieces of art, they can shatter Hugo into billions of pieces.

 It's hard to sleep that night when warmth pools in the doctor's stomach and doesn't go away.

 On the last night of the week, the baker comes again, but this time he speaks.

 ----

 "A demon?" Hugo stands in his doorway, clutching his teacup tightly. "That's a little extreme, don't you think?"

 Father Avery stands in his yard, looking very grim indeed. "A demon, Dr. Wallace, that's what this Bird Man is."

 "He—it��hasn't hurt anyone!"

 "Demons needn't physically harm mortals to be called demons. They are masters of influence—do you know what they're saying, the townsfolk, concerning the Bird Man?"

 "What?"

 "They are saying...well..." Now, the Father looks flustered, pink round cheeks pinker. "...they would very much like to invite the Bird Man into their beds."

 "Oh, my." Hugo tries to act surprised. It's one of the mornings after he's been met with a crowd of townsfolk thirsting after him.

 "It is sin, doctor! Sin! To practice premarital sin with a...a demon, of all things—why, it's preposterous. That is why it is a demon—it's an aphrodisiac!"

 ----

 "It is a sin to love you," is what the baker says when he speaks, quiet. "That's what the church says."

 "Then, do not commit it. You are not a man of sin," Hugo says, "You are a pure, kind-hearted soul."

 "Then, I will pray," The baker speaks quickly, breathlessly, "I will pray every verse I know, that I've been taught. I will attend every one of Father Avery's less than joyful Sunday services and I will pray to God above for forgiveness. I'll spend the rest of my days as a man of God to repent for this sin that I am guilty of."

 "What are you saying?"

 "I love you, with all my heart. I do not know your name, or what you look like, but I love you."

 "You love the mystery of me. The story. You don't love me." Hugo is ecstatic his hopes are true but would rather ingest nightshade than have this conversation. "You love this shadow—" he gestures to the canvas of lichen that separates them. "—not the man behind the curtain."

 "...then show me. Show me your true form."

 "Is that really what you want?"

 "Yes."

 Hugo takes a breath.

 Another.

 He turns off his lamp. The area grows dark around him. He faces the curtain of lichen and pulls it aside with one gloved hand.

 In the woods somewhere, the baker finally sees the true form of the fabled Bird Man, and he gasps,

 "Doctor Hugo Wallace. It's you—you were the Bird Man this whole time?" His hazel eyes are wide in shock and his bushy red eyebrows are raised. The surprise in his eyes reminds Hugo just how stupid the people of this town are—they couldn't even connect the dots.

 "Do you still love me?" He finds himself saying through gritted teeth.

 “I cannot believe this—"

 "Do you still love me?" Hugo grips his cane tightly.

 The baker furrows his eyebrows. He takes his time to answer.

 "I don't know."

 Hugo's heart sinks. "I thought as much," he mutters, and grabs his lantern and goes. The baker springs up to chase after him, but the doctor yells behind him, "Do not follow me! Tell no one of this."

 A painful warmth is building behind his eyes. Fool he was to hope that love would stay true. In the woods somewhere, Hugo Wallace, puppeteer of the Bird Man and plague doctor, runs away and doesn't look back.

[burning-clutch]

The Phantom Always Rings Twice

Read on A03: Here Pairings: None Trigger Warnings: None Total word count: 3301 Author: @burning-clutch (Team Ghost) Prompt by:  Dalv-co-official  AO3: betelgeuse

It started with small things. Little things that could be misconstrued as happenstance and coincidence, and then it evolved into something more, something bigger. And, well, William Lancer always did love a good mystery novel.

------

 It started with small things. Little things that could be misconstrued as happenstance and coincidence. Things that could be written off easily with little thought or without really thinking into it too hard.

 And while William Lancer took notice of the oddities and inconsistencies that seemed to fill one Daniel Fenton’s life, he couldn’t piece together exactly what was happening within the greater story.

 A story that he wanted to see unfold fully.

 It was like a mystery novel in a way. One would need to read through each chapter, each paragraph carefully to be able to find the breadcrumb trail left by the author to be able to figure out the final twist at the end in its entirety. As of now, he only had the pieces that were left out in the open.

 The pieces he had seen that were left behind to be seen were large and obvious, meant to throw one off the trail of the deeper lore in the pages. With glaring arrows and flashing lights, they were meant to attract your attention so that you failed to notice the tiny crumb on the floor just off to the side.

 And it worked well for a time until he had started to take notice of the crumbs. He had looked away from the glitz and offered a story on the platter and taken notice of something small, insignificant. A bruise under the boy's eye, a small garish yellow thing. He had the boy in the morning and noticed it as he went around to collect the homework he’d assigned, and of course, Fenton hadn’t done it. When he had seen the boy once again later that day the bruise was gone. There was no indication that there was any makeup used to hide it either.

 After that point, the teacher had made a point to follow the breadcrumbs. The small bits of the trail that were left behind to indicate something more. He had gotten a taste, and he wanted more. He had to solve the conundrum that was presented before him.

 So, he watched. He listened. He learned and he researched.

 He saw the boy limping to through the lunch line, but had not seen any instance of bullying that would have caused it, and once again by the time the boy was in his class once again that day, no semblance of it ever had happened.

 Abuse at home was quickly ruled out as a good portion of the things that happen to him seem to be at the school.

 He had tried to confront the boy about him clutching his chest and his rattling breaths, as though he had broken a rib or some other such thing, and simply was waved off.                  “I’m a clutz, I fell down the stairs” Daniel had said to his inquiry, dodging the question smoothly. He had seen the boy many a time simply stumble over his feet on flat ground, so tripping downstairs was not something too outlandish to believe.

 And yet in the same breath, he had also seen the teen pull off amazing feats of coordination when he believed no one was watching him. How he gracefully slid around corners to escape the quarterback’s cajoling, or how he had leaped over a railing into the back garden of the school, rolling to disperse the energy in such a way any master of parkour would be proud to see.

 He would entertain the idea of seeming smaller then he was, too. He had noticed it during a presentation when Daniel came to the front of the class. When Dashiel stuck out a foot to try to trip Daniel. Daniel’s eyes flickered for the briefest of moments to the other’s leg before hooking his ankle and preforming a marvellous pratfall. But as he lay prone on the ground he was stretched out showing his full height.

 When he regained himself and moved to the front of the class once again, Daniel had curved his back and dropped his shoulders inward, doing a wondrous impression of the hunchback of Notre Dame.

 Why would Daniel want to appear smaller? Surely appearing larger would help stop those such as Dashiel from bothering him as much, so why? What purpose did this serve?

 Then, of course, there was the matter he had seen the other’s attempt to trip him up, and instead of simply walking over the trap, he fell into it headfirst, let the class laughed at him before continuing on with whatever charade he deemed necessary to fulfil.

 Why bother with such nonsensical things when he could have easily rolled jumped or any other manner of things to avoid making himself into a laughing stock. Perhaps he didn’t like attention then?

 Well, it would be a simple theory to test. William had dabbled in sciences before majoring in English and history after all...

 Putting the attention on Daniel was an easy feat. A simple manner or pointing out his lacking marks and offering a simple way to make up the credit. A public speaking competition or a talent show. Surprisingly the teen had chosen to help out with the talent show. A Stagehand true, but still. He had no problem running out onto the stage to check microphones were working, plugged in correctly, or had good battery depending on what was being used.

 The eyes on him didn’t seem to hinder his performance, so long as he had a purpose to hone in on… so why?

 Perhaps the opposite then? Did he enjoy the attention and figured that being a laughing stock was a way to be noticed? Well, that theory was quickly squashed when he saw the teen have his clothes get stolen in Gym, and doused in pink dye turning his usually white shirt a rather flamboyant shade of flamingo.

 All eyes were certainly on him.

 Still, the teen spent a good portion of that school day hiding within his friend’s hoodie and opted to wear his Gym shorts. It was the middle of February so it was still rather cold. And with only a hoodie Daniel still braved the outdoors with little notice.

 And that was his next crumb.

 The boy didn’t seem to notice the cold.  

 The teacher had seen the teen arrive at the school the following week when a freak blizzard popped up, wearing no coat and very little protection beyond that from the frigid temperatures outside.

 He had heard of people being ‘warm blooded’ and not having the cold climate bother them too much but this was within the realm of ludacrisy! Surely his body was under duress of some kind! Was he ill?

 When asked once again Daniel had waved off his concern, “I’m good. I’m not sick just a little sleepy is all” He had deferred once again pushing off the concern and offering an easy way out, a fake map on a silver platter that he was expected to follow.

 He took the offering. If for no other reason then to throw the teen off the notion that he may be tracing his footsteps.

 It seemed to have worked as intended, though the boy still seemed ill at ease in the classroom. He had noticed Daniel shiver and for the briefest of seconds, he could have sworn he’d seen the boy’s breath.

 Sure the classroom was chilly, the school board being too cheap to allow them to turn up the heat any higher than the current brisk twenty celsius, but that was still far above where one would start to see the condensation of someone’s breath.

 He was drawn out of the musings of this current conundrum by the very topic of his brain’s musings. Hand shooting high as he wiggles in his seat, Daniel looked determined suddenly, and flighty. This was not a new occurrence either. Since the start of the youngest Fenton’s schooling career, he had been randomly ditching class. Sometimes it would be brief, entertaining the simplest of needs it would seem, other times he would not be seen for hours by any teacher in the school only to come back a while later dishevelled and out of breath as though he had run a marathon.

 William sighed and waved Daniel off. It was no use disallowing the boy to exit. He would simply leave the first chance he was given to take his leave. This has happened not only to himself but other members of the staff it seemed.

 Daniel could be as quiet as a mouse when he needed to be.

 His next trail on the line of crumbs was much larger, much more succulent. Almost like a cake crumb instead of a bread crumb. It was sweetened with honey and made him crave the full buffet table all the more.

 Hm, perhaps he should break for lunch… that was many more food allusions then usual. He must be hungry.

   As he made his way down the hall once again he saw, Daniel. He was not in his morning classroom today, though that was hardly a surprise, given the boy’s record… still, he couldn’t deny the interest he had taken in this scenario. Dashiel had cornered Michiel threatening him with a ‘beat down’ which made the man frown deeply.

 He hated how much their school funding relied on the sports departments to do well. What he wouldn’t give to have a few new books in the school. Prefibily something from the twenty-first century.

 Of course, this meant that Dashiel was able to get away with almost anything being how well he performed on the field, carrying the Casper High Ravens to the playoffs. As such a warning would be the most he could really receive for ‘roughhousing’ as it were…

 Still, before he could step in, Daniel did, dryly commenting on Dashiel’s brain capacity and quipping out a few other rather boorish insults. “What’s the matter Dash? Is your shoe size larger than your IQ?” Dashiel threw a textbook towards Daniel who ducked, only causing himself to draw more ire. “Ha, what was that? Ya missed me! Honestly, a star quarterback and can’t hit the broad side of a barn!”

 With that Daniel took off, thus getting the larger teen to give chase and letting the poor hapless nerd go in favour of a more fit target. All in all not too much by itself, but William had found the conjoining piece after classes were done and he was heading to his car.

 There was a ghost attack. Nothing new there, as they were rather common around the school, being as there was always a large congregation of people. Ghosts seemed to hit those places the most frequently after all. The leading theory was that they had more chances to gain their food source from the emotions of humans.

 This was also the main point of controversy for why Phantom was not a hero but more akin to an animal protecting its food source. Regardless of the reason, William had seen first hand the ghostly teen do his routine and had to admit, things would often be much worse without the Phantom ‘protecting his food source’ all the time.

 Regardless that thought was neither here nor there as he snapped himself out of his musings to watch for an opening to speed away in his hatchback and try his best not to damage his already thrice repaired vehicle.

 The ghosts twisted and turned around one another in a ballet that could be something akin to a world war two era dog fight, as Phantom blasted the hunter ghost from behind only to zip away from the other’s shots or expertly deflect them.

 In a way, it was mesmerizing to watch the ariel promenade, as the two spun and did their sword’s dance along the razor blade of death. However, that was not what caught his attention today. No, it was the words being spewed back and forth between the ghosts.

 “What’s the matter, Skulker? Is your shoe size larger than your IQ?” Phantom laughed out before dodging around a laser of some kind. “Ha, what was that? Ya missed me! Honestly, Zone’s greatest hunter? You can’t hit the broad side of a barn!” He quipped before flying skyward leading the ghost away from the school building by drawing the ire…

 William Lancer was not a man who was unobservant or unintelligent, and he was also not a man to ignore such coincidences such as this. Not only was it the words spoken from the ghost, but it was the      way     it was spoken as well that gave him pause. The same inflection and same tone he had heard on Daniel just a few hours prior.

 And the more he focused on it the more similarities he found.

 They had the same voice when they spoke. An easy enough fact to find and notice when compared side by side. A discussion in English class on media reporting, under the ruse of looking at the language used by the newscast, and a recording of a night's broadcast where Phantom was clearly picked up by the microphones. He had told the kids he wanted them to do a piece of mock news, a report on something in their life using the wording examples they had seen.

 The video played and he paused it right after Phantom’s smile and cheesy eighties slogan of ‘don’t do drugs’ was finished hamming up into the camera. It was then he called on Daniel to see what the teen noticed in the language used. And sure enough, the voices sounded identical, save for the echo like Phantom was talking into a tin can, but never the less it was a clue.

 And when he started looking into other things that would compare the meek child in his class to the ghostly hero that flew, fought and patrolled the town well… he became worried.

 When Daniel stood up straight, he was the same height as Phantom. When Daniel was forced to wear a proper Gym uniform, one where he couldn’t hide in a hoodie or long sleeved shirt, he was the same build. Then there were more subtle things, like the pair having the same laugh and same facial features, same windswept hair, same well… almost everything.

 But what does that mean then for Daniel? He had seen ghosts that have a shapeshifting ability before, most notably that awful ghostly therapist and the assistant they had brought in. So did that mean Daniel was a ghost? What were the implications of his death then? And when had it happened…?

 His true lucky break came when he was taking over from the principal, and thus was not teaching his classes for the day. He was in the back staff storage closet, a small tight area with notebooks, chalk, and markers in a narrow L shape. He was simply taking inventory, a dreaded procedure that he had little doubt was left to him purposefully for when Iroshima had to attend the meeting with the school board.

 Regardless he was in the furthest section from the door around the tight corner when he heard it. The door opened and in stumbled Daniel Fenton. The teen heaved a sigh of relief, and just as he was about to reprimand Daniel for such delinquent behaviour, it happened.

 The truth, the piece he had been theorizing and grasping at, laid out before him.

 A bolt of light erupted from the teen’s waist in a hoop of iridescent stardust. It shone and glowed brightly as though someone had suddenly turned on a sun lamp. The ring split and diverged up and down, travelling quickly across the boy’s body in a ripple of power. As the rings passed the human guise of the teen it revealed a familiar jumpsuit, and even more familiar ghost beneath...

 He could only watch bewildered as Phantom, no, Daniel took flight and headed off through the ceiling of the closet. He had been right? He had been right! Oh lord, he had been right…

 Being right had never felt more wrong…

 This teenager, this child… he truly dd carry the world on his shoulders, or at least the town. The boy who would sometimes limp to class and ignore his lectures on doing his homework to secure a relatively well off future, or at least a decent college acceptance… He had always looked as though nothing he said mattered, and well, he supposed given what he knows now that’s not far from the truth.

 Why would a child who was already dead, passed on and returned, care about his future as a human? Why would it ever be something that Daniel would take seriously when he literally had no future on this earth?

 Though it still begged the question why was he still bothering with school at all? Wouldn’t it be better to live as a ghost? He could patrol, fight and, well, do whatever it is that ghosts do in their spare time, all without the worry of his human habits and responsibilities getting in the way of his clearly favoured ghostly ones.

 Though the more he thought on it the more he realized that this new line of questioning was not as complicated as he was tempted to make it out to be. Daniel had died and was a teen who never got to grow up. Perhaps that was all he was trying to do?

 Despite the limitations on his body, or perhaps lack thereof, he wanted to still be a teen. He wanted to spend time with his family and friends and experience the life that had been taken from him.

 He was given the chance to allow him such simple mercies after all. It would make sense he would take it.

 From that standpoint suddenly Phantom’s aggression and heroism took on a much sadder note. One of a teen that simply wanted the others of his breed to leave him be so he may fulfill whatever obsession is keeping him grounded here, experiencing life.

 And perhaps that’s what all the ghosts really wanted. From the Box Ghost to the King of the realm of the dead. Perhaps that’s what connected them all? To live out the rest of the life that had gotten taken from them from whatever it was that took it. Be it a fire disease injury or… whatever had taken Daniel.

 Wiliam appreciated the new standpoint and views he had gained. He was a teacher after all, and part of that was due to the love of learning he had that thrived in his very soul. It did make him wonder though. If he were to be struck down, would he have the strength of will to continue? To push past his own death to try and regain some semblance of what was taken from him?

 Somehow he doubted it.

 Yet at the same time, he was alright with that notion. He was making a difference here and now and planned to for many years to come. Though for right now he would do his best to help the ghost boy in his homeroom class to live out his purpose. A makeup test here, extra credit there, and with any luck, the ghost would be able to graduate and live out the life he had lost.

 After all, William Lancer was a teacher at heart, a mentor.

 He was happy that he could just play a bit part in the background of the stories his students were living. A small thread in the tapestry that weaved their lives.

 What more could a teacher ask for then to see his students succeed? After all, even dead teenagers seem to need help time and again.

   -.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

 Complete

 Total word count: 3301

[twriteskpop]

Adrenaline // Jeon Jungkook AU pt 2

Warnings: marijuana use, sexual harassment

Word count: 3k+

The park was 20 minutes away from her apartment complex,  which meant that she had no time to go up to her apartment and change first. She shifted into reverse and made her way to the park.  

The park was mostly empty during the summer time,  so it was no surprise to her that only a few cars were parked by the water.  She found a parking space on the other side of the lot,  and brought out her phone.  

Here. Yellow VW Beatle

She watched as a child threw bread crumbs at a duck in the pond.  Something Floridian children did often.  The ducks aren't supposed to be fed,  but it's like a right of passage in Florida.  The little girl was dressed in a cute denim dress,  matching hat as well.  Her mother was knelt beside her,  keeping a hand on her shoulder to make sure she didn't fall in. The girl threw the bread crumbs happily to the ducks,  pointing at the ones eating.  It was such an innocent moment between mother and daughter.  One Delilah never had but witnessed too often. 

Her thoughts were broke by a knock on the passenger side window. She looked through the window to see a person holding their phone to the glass.  It was the text thread.  This was Clarissa's dealer. She unlocked the door and the man got in. He was nothing she expected.  He was handsome. He had on blue jeans and a long black shirt.  His hair was slightly covering his face. When he turned to her,  she couldn't help but feel a butterfly in her stomach.  He was extremely handsome.  His nose was predimanent,  his eyes sweet but focused on the task at hand.  His skin was clear and smooth and he was somehow cute but hot all at once.  

Her thoughts were,  thankfully, by him putting his hand out for her to shake.  "I'm Jungkook.  You're Clarissa and Bennett's friend?" He asked,  a kind tone in his soft voice.  Delilah nodded once,  pulling her wallet out.  She had never been infatuated with anyone before,  but the looks alone this man had was effecting her train of thought.  Sure,  she had boyfriends but they were pity dates she had with them.  She had never felt physically attracted to anyone before,  so this sudden nervousness made her uneasy. 

"my name is Delilah. Sorry I was late,  I was getting off of work," She explained turning to him.  He raised his brow and half smirked,  "you work at one of the theme parks?" Delilah looked down at her uniform and instantly felt embarrassed.  "Sadly,  no.  I work at Timmy's 50's, " She explained,  adding some annoyance to the diner name.  It was cheesy and showed how self centered her boss was. He chuckled and nodded,  "interesting. Anyways,  what will it be?" She thought back to the strain she used to go off of, even though she never really paid much attention.  Whatever she could get before she smoked,  regardless. However she did remember friend in high school was regular on indica strains called… "9 pound hammer,  or grape ape?" She asked.  He smirked flicking a brow up high,  smirking at her,  "good taste.  I have grape ape right now.  Usually it's pretty random,  for future reference.  You're in luck.  It's 20 a G. " Delilah pulled out her purse and pulled a 20 dollar bill out of her phone case,  it had the smell of maple syrup on it because it was a tip from a messy table with kids that same day. She passed it to Jungkook,  trying not to look into his deep brown eyes too long.  

They exchanged the money for a dime bag of the green,  with slight purple specs,  substance.  He placed the money in his wallet and placed his hand on the handle of the car door.  He paused,  turned to look at her with a cute, bunny-like smile,  and stated,  "it was a pleasure,  Delilah.  I hope we meet again soon." As quickly as he entered her car,  he was gone. 

His scent was of sweet Cologne,  definitely something expensive by how it wasn't too strong to notice at first,  but lingered like a ghost.  

She placed the dime bag into her purse and drove back to her apartment.  She couldn't help but think about the way Jungkook had left butterflies in her stomach.  Who knows,  it could just be nerves from the sale after so long of quitting.  Yeah,  that's exactly what Delilah insisted on as she made her way into her apartment and into a hot shower,  washing the diner smells away along with the phantom touches left from Tims daily harassment.  

When she exited the shower,  sliding on her denim shorts and baggy T-shirt,  she remembered something crucial to her dire need to forget her thoughts,  she hadn't had a grinder or anything to smoke from. Sure,  she could create a soda can bowl,  if she hadn't given up soda her first year of college.  

Thankfully,  she felt relieved to see she had one wrapped cookie left from Clarissa the night prior.  As she unwrapped the single cookie and placed it on a napkin,  and then into the microwave,  she texted Clarissa. 

So,  met Jungkook.  Problem arises,  nothing to grind or smoke with.  😪 

 Seconds later the buzzing started in her phone. Clarissa had been calling her. 

Clarissa was laughing and cheerful, per usual, “D! Come over! I have plenty of old pieces you can take. Smoke with us tonight. We have been wanting to smoke with you for a while, but loved hanging out with you without smoking too. You’re our closest friend!” She continued to ramble on, “Anyways, movie night. Going to smoke and watch… something. We still havent decided, come over!” Before Delilah could protest, there was more laughter and the phone hung up. She huffed out a sigh. 

She hadn’t...smoked in so long. The night prior it was an edible. She had been alone. Was she ready to smoke with other people around again? She was always introverted,  until she smoked. She shrugged the thought off,  thinking too much.  She would at least smoke for free and have a cookie and two grams left at home.  

She slipped on her white adidas and walked over to Clarissa's place,  not bothering to knock,  they asked her not to many times because she was like family.  The familiar smell of weed hit her like a snack in the face.  It was strong and the foggy smoke was rolling out the door behind her.  

Clarissa was rushing to the door, a smile plastered on her round face.  She gripped Delilah's wrist and pulled her happily to the living room.  There were three people in the living room,  lounging on the couch and flipping through Netflix.  One, Bennet a largely buff man with pale white skin and bald head,  but friendly face,  was arguing with the two other men.  Delilah's eyes landed on Jungkook.  He was wearing the same clothes from earlier that day,  a smile plastered on his face,  making his nose crinkle in a cute bunny-like way.  He had been telling Bennet to pick a better movie than the kissing booth.  Bennet may look frighteningly intimidating but he was just a big teddy bear.  The other face was unfamiliar. It was another man of Asian decent with bleached blonde hair and dimples when he smiled.  His eyes were slightly hooded,  but it made his stare seductive.  

"So I heard you met Jungkook earlier but this is RM,  another one of our friends. Follow me to the room,  I have a whole set you can keep. Had it for years but you can clean them," Clarissa stood taller than Delilah but she was in an excited,  bent-knee type position while talking.  It looked as though Clarissa had been waiting for this moment.  As if it were the missing puzzle piece to Delilah's personality.  In the moment,  it slightly burned her soul,  but she brushed it off,  as she did most hurtful things.  

Clarissa had a small cardboard box on her red blanketed bed,  the contents inside were like a smoker starter kit.  A silver grinder with a  rhinestone galaxy as the lid,  a beautiful glass blown chillum,  bowl, a tray and a palm tree bong. Every one of the contents looked warn but the thought was extreme.  "I'll venmo you $100 for this.  It's too sweet," Delilah wrapped her arm around her friend in a side hug.  Clarissa smacked Delilahs arm,  leaving a stinging sensation,  "don't you dare.  You're family." Clarissa turned around and made her way back to the living room. Delilah pulled out her phone and opened the venmo app,  paying Clarissa,  before following behind.  Delilah placed the cardboard shoe box of stuff on the counter and reached for a water in the fridge.  

"Titanic?  What are you a woman?" RM had snatched the remote from Bennet,  laughing.  Clarissa had been seated next to Bennet,  snuggled under his arm,  passing the blunt to Jungkook. lunt to RM who was sitting beside the couple on the small, three person couch. On the two seater, Jungkook was sitting with his elbows on his knees, staring up at Delilah. That feeling in her stomach soon returned.  She turned her attention to the bean bag in the corner, it was either sitting closely to Jungkook, or on the bean bag. She pulled the bean bag to a spot between the tv and the couch, plopping herself down comfortably. “Can we just pick a movie?” Clarissa snatched the remote from RM.  She flipped on a random movie. Delilah giggled when the movie began, seeing the title name. “Of all the movies Clarissa, you had to pick the one based in Orlando?” Delilah laughed, throwing a pillow at Clarissa. Bennet blocked it from hitting her. “I’m a sucker for bring it on movies and this is the only one on netflix,” Clarissa retorted. Delilah face palmed internally. She had been a cheerleader most of her life, competition cheer as well. Mostly on fundraisers because her family had been critically homeless most of her life. Bring it On movies were her guilty pleasure, she was glad clarissa felt the same way. 

“is this one of those cheerleader films?  Oh Lord," Bennet placed his hand on his face and took the blunt from RM,  "I think we are all going to need a ton of this. She likes to act these cheers out." The room started laughing,  but Clarissa lifted a perfectly sculpted brow at Delilah, "yeah laugh all you want but I think our girl D knows this movie just like I do. How'd you know this one was based in our city?" Delilah could feel the blood rushing to her cheeks.  She was embarrassed.  She was not sure if she wanted everyone knowing her past. Clarissa and Bennet knew, but she hadn’t known the other two men enough. So, she flicked her brow up and winked, not saying anything. 

The blunt was now in jungkooks hand, he took two long puffs and passed it to Delilah. Before she could reach for it,  Bennet stopped Jungkook, "she doesn't smoke.  Sorry D,  he didn't know." Delilah and Clarissa both began giggling like a set of school girls with a secret.  "I did say that she met our boy JK earlier. I wanted to see the look on your face when you found out, " Clarissa laughed. Jungkook passed Delilah the blunt but it was down to the last hit. She held it in her hand, staring down at it.  Everyone was busy laughing atBennets cluelessness,  so they hadn't noticed that Delilah was trying to decide if she really wanted to take that nose dive back into the cycle. She made a promise she wouldn't do it again.  Maybe she could alter that promise.  She loved being able to sleep the night prior. Not thinking too hard. Maybe she could have the best of both worlds.  Just make responsible decisions while getting rid of the bomb of memories in her mind. That is exactly what she-

"Delilah?" Jungkook had broken her train of thought,  he had done that many times in one day.  She felt the pain instantly and placed it in the ash tray.  She had burnt the tip of her pointer finger and thumb. The blunt had burned out.  She rubbed the burn on her shirt and it had only stung for a second. "How about you guys spark up a bowl while I help Delilah with the burn, " Jungkook stood up,  gripping her wrist,  pulling her up before she could protest.  She didn't like people treating her like she was weak.  It was just a small burn.  The sting did linger as they walked through the kitchen archway.  He opened the fridge and pulled out the tub of butter,  scooping a tiny bit with a spoon and forcefully putting it on her fingers.  "I'm fine.  Thank you. It's just a small burn," Delilah turned the butter with the two fingers as jungkook washed the spoon.  "You looked lost. Bennet said you don't smoke? Is this your first time?" Jungkook leaned against the counter,  a palm of each hand supporting him. 

"Because a first timer could handle the strains I asked for,  let alone know the names?" She laughed sarcastically lifting a brow at the beautiful man.  He let out a chuckle and nodded,  "fair point. So what was getting to you?" She hasn't wanted to tell him her whole life story,  as he was a complete stranger.  However,  the look in his eye showed a sense of caring. His eyes had a glass like glisten and they wandered the depths of her soul they were staring so hard into hers.  She felt that feeling in her stomach and she had to force herself to look to the fridge.  She kept it short and simple,  "I quit about 14 months ago when I moved here.  My decisions weren't always…. Thought out.  Now I think too much so today… " He took a step forward and placed his hand on her mid back,  the feeling in her stomach intensified.  He turned her around and slightly pushed her from the kitchen archway,  moved around her,  looked back to whisper,  "I'll watch over you.  You're with friends now.  If you want to be?" She nodded and they made their way back to the living room.  She sat back down on the bean bag chair and thought briefly about the effect that sentence had on her.  Of course she'd want to be his friend after that.  Even RM seemed cool.  If Bennet and Clarissa were close with these two,  she trusted their opinions more than anyone. So she decided to let herself go.  

Clarissa had hit play on the movie and just as Bennet said,  began reciting the beginning.  The blue,  glassblown pipe went around the living room and made it to Delilah,  who no longer hesitated.  She took the lighter and pressed the bowl against her lips,  warm to the touch.  She went to light the lighter,  but the tip of her thumb was burnt and made her feel like a hot knife cut into her.  "Fuck! " She exclaimed,  shaking her hand.  Jungkook got up from his spot on the couch and sat on the floor next to her.  He reached for the lighter and motioned for her to press the bowl back to her mouth.  After a slight moment of hesitation,  she did so.  He carefully lit the lighter and held it against the green packed substance in the bowl of the pipe.  She breathed in,  letting the smoke slowly warm her lungs,  until she couldn't take it and tapped jungkooks hand with her free one. She cleared the pipe and held in the smoke.  She could feel slightly more relaxed and her body became weightless in a sense.  She was no longer nervous that jungkook was so close to her.  She passed the bowl to Bennet who was next and firSt in the  rotation.  She turned,  thanked jungkook.  "I told you I'd watch out for you." He winked,  making her heart flutter as if a whole tree shook off its fall leaves in preparation for winter,  but in her heart.  The effect he had on her showed,  she wasn't a light weight so she still had thought about that fact.  

Clarissa stood up and began doing the pool cheer off cheer.  Her form waoff and she was making everyone laugh and clap at the same time. She made the movie entertaining even for the guys and it had just begun. "Delilah… you know the movie? Explain why you're laughing and not here doing it with me?" Clarissa paused the movie,  taking her hit as she stood next to the tv in the large living room.  Bennet let out a loud cackle,  "okay rissa,  maybe not everyone watches it a billion times?" The other two guys laughed.  

The overall environment was comfortable and welcoming,  and with the help of medicating,  she felt comfortable enough with her friends to finally admit one thing about her life.  Sure,  Clarissa and Bennet already knew most of the dark stuff that happened to Delilah in her past,  but they hadn't known she used to cheer.  

"Your form is off," Delilah laughed.  Clarissa flicked her brow up,  "what do you know about form? I cheered all four years of high school!" Delilah nodded,  "fair enough.  Try… cheer competition squads since the age of 3,  working through fundraisers to pay her dues to stay on the squad." Clarissa opened her mouth widely smiling,  "no way!  Girl,  you HAVE TO DO THE CHEERS WITH ME! " she squealed in a high pitched voice.  The guys in the room all agreed and took turns pleading at Delilah. They saw it as entertainment.  Delilah shook her head.  She wasn't sure she wanted to be that vulnerable just yet. 

"If you do this, RM,  Bennet and I will do one cheer of choice," Jungkook pleaded,  gripping Delilah's arm gently pulling at her like a child.  She huffed out a sigh,  how could she pass that up? "Fine,  hand me the bowl.  I'm too sober to do this, " She threw the lighter to jungkook who quickly lit the bowl for her.  After a second of letting the medication kick in,  she felt loose in body,  mind,  and soul.  She pushed herself up off the bean bag chair and stood next to Clarissa after kicking her shoes to the corner.  Thankfully, they lived on the first floor so no one would complain.  The guys clapped and began the movie.  

Delilah and Clarissa began cheering every cheer to the movie,  while the guys watched laughing hysterically and occasionally impressed.  "Alright I did it, " Delilah plopped down on the bean bag after the credits rolled.  Clarissa pulled jungkook,  Bennet and RM all up from their spots one-by-one. 

"I'm thinking the pool cheer off.  I'd love to see our guys prance and dosey doe," Clarissa quoted from the movie.  Delilah nodded vigorously. "Hop up there guys you have 10 minutes to practice while D and I go to her apartment to put her pieces away, " Clarissa informed,  throwing Delilah her shoes back,  putting on her own adidas. Delilah grabbed the box on the counter and they exited to Delilah's apartment.  The air was significantly fresher than the apartment they were just in.  She didnt have decorations so even though it was the same floor plan,  hers looked bigger.  

Delilah placed the box in her kitchen cabinet and looked out on her open balcony. Tuck was laying down enjoying the afternoon sun.  "Tuck can come inside if he wants.  I bought a water bowl about a month ago for when he's over on my porch," Delilah pointed to the door,  pulling her phone our of her pocket.  "What a mess this cheer will be, " Clarissa laughed,  peaking over the railing to her apartment. "Oh god," Delilah complained.  Her phone was filled with texts from Tim. He wanted her to cover the dinner rush as soon as the lunch rush was over.  Apparently the other waitresses were going to some party at UCF. Tim always let the other waitresses ditch as much as they wanted,  because the diner was never too busy for one person to handle. It was in a part of town that the tourists never went,  because it was opposite side of the theme parks.  The other waitresses also allowed Tim to grope them and even play into it. They were around the same age as Delilah,  but both were in college while Delilah dropped out of community college to move back.  So,  whenever they didn't want to work,  Tim brought in Delilah.  She needed this job so she always obeyed.  

"I guess you're going to have to enjoy the cheer alone.  I have to head back to work," Delilah threw up her hair quickly while explaining to Clarissa,  who followed her to her room as Delilah changed back into her uniform.  "Heather and Maddy are going to another party?" Clarissa asked,  anger surrounding her usually peppy voice.  Delilah nodded,  pulling her poodle skirt and matching white shirt back on.  

"It's not fair.  The way he treats you.  He shouldn't be harassing anyone of you but the fact the other girls let him so they still get paid to ditch?" Clarissa rambled.  Delilah could feel the rage in the room as if it were fog.  Delilah placed her hands on Clarissa's bony shoulders as Clarissa sat on Delilah's bed.  "Honey,  it's why I can afford this apartment,  my car,  bills,  and still have some money left I save up for an annual pass to the parks.  Tonight's shift tips should get me just enough to buy one on Monday," Delilah reassured her friend. "Come by for dinner if you're too afraid he will act up.  Foods on me, " She convinced Clarissa.  As Delilah grabbed her purse Clarissa followed her out the front door, holding tucks collar. "Fine.  We will drop by later.  I'm bringing the guys.  You're high as a kite though so… be careful okay? " Delilah nodded once and made her way to work.  Being high the traffic didn't bother her so much.  

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

A/N

I'm loving this so much.  I have so much planned.  Please leave comments on where I can improve,  what you love,  and what you want with the story!  

-T

[beckzorz]

Pizza Night (one-shot)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader Words: 1967 Summary: What makes this pizza night different from all other pizza nights? A/N: Happy holidays ;-) Something of a companion piece to Snowed In (thematically, anyway). Hope you enjoy! Let me know what you think.

The third Sunday of every month is pizza night at the compound. Tony gets pizza delivered straight from the city, usually from a different place every month, for absolutely everyone—janitors, Avengers, programmers, medics, doctors, physical therapists…

And you.

Pizza night is one of your favorite traditions here. It’s less classy than the cocktail party-type get-togethers that Tony likes to throw; no mixed drinks, just water, soda, and beer for those inclined. And yes, you do like getting dressed up once in a while, but there’s effort involved, and your job is enough work, thank you very much.

Unwinding without expectations is nice.

Also, pizza.

—

“Hi Paul!” You slide into the passenger seat of your neighbor’s car and tuck your shopping bag between your feet. “Thanks so much for the ride.”

“No problem,” Paul says. He pulls away from the curb and drives towards the compound. “It’s literally five houses out of my way.”

“Yes, but still.” It’s cloudy but warm, so you open the window and let your hand dangle, catching the wind between your fingers. “How’s it feel to have tax season over?”

Paul groans in relief. “Oh my god, like freedom herself came and blessed me with those lottery days off last week.”

You laugh. Most accountants are dull as the grave, but Paul’s pretty funny, all things considered.

“What’s in the bag?” he asks.

“Oh…” You shift a little in your seat. “Just some stuff for tonight.”

“Fun,” he says.

“Mm.”

Your noncommittal answer doesn’t lead to a reply, and Paul turns on NPR. All Things Considered is good as far as radio shows go, but tonight your mind is wandering.

Pizza night’s going to be a little different this time around, and the thought of standing out makes your heart squeeze painfully. You’ve only been at this job long enough to take part in five, maybe six pizza nights, and you’re just starting to feel comfortable enough to make some waves. A suggestion for implementing a new project, a few more personal effects by your desk… It’s all gone well, but tonight?

You’re not sure.

It’s another fifteen minutes before you and Paul flash your security badges to the gate guard. There’s already a bunch of cars in the front lot—no surprise; the compound runs 24/7. Paul squeezes into a spot between two SUVs, and you suck in your breath to slip out of the car with your bag.

The second you walk into the right building, your mouth starts to water. You can smell it all—the bakery smell of the crust, the gooey cheese, the garlic. Even the tang of pepperoni, which you don’t eat.

It smells like a greasy pizzeria, replete with checkered tables and silvery napkin holders and rotating countertop displays with slices waiting to be shucked onto paper plates. It smells like a hole-in-the-wall with a gruff chef whose mouth would give Gordon Ramsay a run for his money. It smells like the kind of place you don’t wear white to.

It smells like heaven.

“Fuck,” you mutter, and Paul chuckles beside you.

“Eager, huh?”

“Not exactly.” You shift your bag to your other hand and try to keep your breathing steady.

Paul gives you a funny look, but he doesn’t push as you both climb up the lobby stairs to the lounge. He nods at you and makes a beeline straight for the buffet table. You don’t follow quite yet.

You pause by the top of the stairs as you take it all in. Maybe it’s a little cliché, but you still can’t quite believe your luck. How many people can say they work with superheros? Eat pizza with superheros? Sure, some of them are away right now—it’s Easter today, after all—but there are still plenty here tonight. Steve Rogers, of course, and his cute friend Bucky Barnes. Natasha Romanoff, Vision, Wanda Maximoff. Plenty of people.

Someone bumps into you, and you tighten your grip on your bag and make your way to the kitchen. It’s commercial-sized, with an oven the size of a closet full of oozing pizzas waiting to replace the ones on the buffet. You pause in front of it, gazing longingly at the rotating rack of pies, before one of the outside waitstaff ushers you aside.

You snag a plate from a cabinet and a spoon from a drawer. With a heavy heart, you open your shopping bag. Out comes a box, a bag of shredded mozzarella, a glass jar of marinara sauce. You carefully spread the sauce and sprinkle the cheese. Sixty-six seconds in the microwave, and you sigh as you pull the warm plate out.

“What’s that?”

You jump out of your skin. Natasha Romanoff is at your elbow, eyeing your plate curiously.

“Oh, uh, hi, Natasha.” You shift your weight, cheeks hot. “It’s matzah pizza.”

“Oh right,” Natasha says. “It’s Passover, isn’t it?”

“Yep.” You force a smile and squeeze by her to get back to the lounge, but she sticks to you.

“Isn’t all this—” she gestures to the pizza buffet as you pass by— “awfully tempting?”

You snort. “Of course! And it’s only day two.”

“Eight days?”

“Outside of Israel, yup.”

“And no bread?”

“No bread, no cake, no pasta—well, no normal pasta, anyway—no cereal, no oatmeal, no beer, no cookies,” you rattle off. “And I’m sure I’m missing something.”

Natasha puts a hand on your arm and leads to the couch she usually shares with some of the other Avengers. You sit down, head swimming with surprise. You usually hang out with coworkers from your department, not… the department.

Still, you do your best to smile at Steve, who’s next to you.

“How are—oh,” he says. He blinks at your pizza, then looks back at you with a sympathetic wince. “You’re brave.”

“I would go with masochistic before brave,” you reply. You take a deep breath, eyes fluttering shut for the briefest moment before you pull yourself together. A bite of matzah pizza does nothing to resolve the craving for real pizza. “This is hell.”

Steve chuckles. “So why’d you come?”

“Yeah, seriously,” Natasha chimes in. She’s perched on the arm of the couch beside you, a half-eaten slice of pizza folded in her hand.

“Eh, pizza night’s my favorite thing we have here,” you say. “It’s nice to hang out without having to think about work, you know?”

“Fair enough.”

“Bucky,” Natasha says suddenly, amusement dripping from her tone, “you look like a fish.”

You turn to look up at Bucky. His eyes are glued to your plate. To your pizza. He snaps his mouth shut and swallows, glancing down at his own plate. He’s got two big pieces of pepperoni pizza, one piled on top of the other.

“Something wrong, Buck?” Steve asks.

“No,” Bucky says, but you don’t buy it for a second.

Based on their raised eyebrows, neither do Natasha and Steve. Bucky nudges Steve’s leg with his boot, and Steve shifts over as much as he can.

Bucky sits down next to you, his thigh pressed against yours. He discards his pizza on the coffee table and sits back, still looking at your plate. Your mouth suddenly goes dry, pizza smell be damned. So close to Bucky, you’ve caught whiff of something a million times more intoxicating. He smells intoxicating, all heady and exhilarating and distinctively unique.

Greasy pizzeria as heaven?

No, heaven is sitting next to Bucky Barnes, his solid thigh against yours and his hand brushing your arm from where it’s slung on the back of the couch.

“You know,” he says, voice small and almost faraway, “the missions used to come to the front for Passover.”

You blink. Bucky is still looking at the matzah pizza on your plate.

“The front? You mean, during World War II?” you ask.

“Yeah.” His eyes flit to yours, his lips quirking up just enough to set your heart beating a little faster. “Those seders were the best part of the year.”

You gape. It can’t be attractive, but—Bucky Barnes is Jewish? Like you? It’s impossible.

“I don’t remember any,” Steve says. “What about ‘44?”

“Eh, by the time you came along, we had other things to do,” Bucky tells Steve, but he’s still facing you. He lowers his voice, ducks his head a little as his gaze tightens on yours. “Can I—did you bring that?”

You nod, thoroughly speechless.

“Can I have one?”

“Just one?” Natasha teases. You huff a little, half amused, half offended on Bucky’s behalf, but he’s rolling his eyes fondly.

“Of course,” you tell him. You force yourself up from the couch, left thigh cold from the loss of his leg pressed against yours. Is your face as warm as it feels? Can they all see? “Be right back.”

But Bucky jumps to his feet before you can make your escape. “You gotta show me how,” he says. He puts a hand on the small of your back and guides you through the crowd to the kitchen, greeting some of the waitstaff by name.

You’re not just speechless now; you’re breathless. His hand on your back, with just a thin shirt between his metal hand and your skin. His rich baritone, the gentle smile you can see out of the corner of your eye if you turn your head just a little.

Out comes the matzah, the sauce, the cheese. Bucky grabs a fresh plate and watches with careful focus as you assemble a matzah pizza for him.

“Can I do more cheese?” he asks.

“Eh, you could, but if you do too much it gets soggy.”

“Fair.”

You stand side-by-side in front of the microwave as you punch in sixty-six seconds. The microwave comes on with a whoosh.

“So,” Bucky says. “I didn’t know you were Jewish.”

Your lips twitch. “Bucky, I don’t think we’ve exchanged more than half a dozen words before tonight.” You raise an eyebrow at him, and he purses his lips in reluctant agreement. “But I didn’t know you were. And we learned about you all in school!”

“Well, my mom was. We didn’t practice or anything.” He tucks his hair behind his ear. “Not like you.”

“Everyone does it differently,” you say. “It’s all about what works for you.”

The microwave beeps, and Bucky pulls the plate out. “I haven’t really thought about it in ages,” he says. “But…” He smiles at you, eyes crinkling. “Maybe it’s time to see what works for me now that things have changed.”

“Hear hear!” You grin back. Never mind the heat in your cheeks—Bucky is smiling. At you. Who cares if you’re blushing? ��No time like the present.”

“Amen,” he says. He lifts the plate close to his face and tries a bite of matzah pizza. His expression is thoughtful by the time he swallows. “I mean, it’s not as good as the stuff out there usually is, but it’s not bad.”

“I’ll be honest, I’m going to eat a whole pizza next month,” you tell him.

“Next month?” Bucky asks through another bite.

“Next pizza night,” you clarify.

He swallows, Adam’s apple bobbing on his pale neck. “How long is Passover? Eight days, right?”

“Yeah…?” You tilt your head, confused.

“Forget next month. We can go for some proper pizza next Sunday. I mean—if you want?”

Bucky’s blue eyes are wide, hopeful as he looks at you. You can’t help smiling. Pizza to end Passover is an old family tradition, one you thought you’d miss out on now that you’re living so far from home. But it’s like Bucky said.

Time to see what works, now that things have changed.

“I want,” you say, and he grins back, smile as bright as the moon.

“To pizza night,” he says, lifting his matzah pizza in a toast.

You bump elbows with him, heart soaring. “To pizza night.”

[bellatrixobsessed1]

The Art Of Remembrance (Part 9)

The night is relatively cold for a Fire Nation one. Mostly, the streets are vacant, he can’t imagine that she will be too hard to find. He forgets how elusive and sneaky she is. And he can’t come up with one possible location for her. It would be entirely useless to return to the palace and ask Zuko where she usually runs to when she needs an escape when she doesn’t even know where that place is.

He runs his hand through his hair. Angry as he is with the woman, he finds it hard to picture her alone and mostly aimless. He gives a frustrated groan; he had gone through so much trouble to rescue and care for her only to cast it all away over one stupid, heated argument. Spirits, he doesn’t even think that the argument was that important.

The more he dwells on it the more he understands. Of course she was agitated he had left her in the dark after promising her the truth. Just because he couldn’t stomach recanting the darkness of her past, doesn’t mean that she couldn’t.

He weaves in and out of crowds, trying to spot a familiar face within it. It doesn’t help that she is so small. It is absurdly easy for her to burry herself among many people and wander further away without issue.

“Sokka!” Katara is softly panting by the time she reaches him. “What are you…”

“She’s gone, Katara.” He replies. “She overheard us talking and she ran.”

Katara’s lips press into a thin line.

“She doesn’t want to go back to the institution.”

“No kidding…” Katara mutters.

.oOo.

Having successfully gotten herself completely disoriented and unquestionably lost, Azula finds a large maple tree and nestles herself against it. As far as shelter goes, at the very least, the tree will block the bite of the wind.

She wraps her arms around herself and tries to remind herself that this is bearable. That she has survived much colder. She peers at her disfigured hand and clenches her teeth. If she can handle that, then a chilly night Fire Nation shouldn’t hassle her at all. Whatever discomforts the streets of her nation will provide, it surely beats returning to whatever institution that held her captive.

She pulls out a bundle of clothes, makes herself a rudimentary pillow, and tries to make herself comfortable.

In way of food, she doesn’t have much, but if things go as planned it should last her until she can secure herself some sort of job.  She supposes that her memory loss holds a small mercy in that regard. Without the hindrance of knowing what it is to be pampered, she has nothing to miss. She supposes that she doesn’t have any pride or dignity to worry about either, having slipped far enough to be shipped away to an asylum. So long as she doesn’t think too much she will be fine, she promises herself this.

Yet she can’t help but feel a sense of unease. She draws her legs up to her chest and tries to keep the butterflies tingling in her stomach at bay.

.oOo.

Sokka paces about his room, running through the ups and downs of telling Zuko that his sister has run away again. He could certainly use a team of royal guards to help him comb through and search the capital. But it won’t do Azula’s reputation much good to do so; they trust her so little as it is.

He rubs his hands over his face. He has made his own mess and he isn’t sure that he can fix it. Not on his own.

He bites his cheek and decides that he will give her and himself three days. If she doesn’t show up then, he will come out with his secret.  

He doesn’t have to start dodging questions until the second day. He sits himself down for breakfast and begins picking away at it, though, for once, he isn’t all too hungry. The longer she is away, the harder she will be to find. One day is more than enough time to chop her hair off and acquire boat passes to the Earth Kingdom. It’s more than enough time for her to have been mugged or stolen away. Or for her to have maimed someone else who attempted to try either. Granted he hasn’t heard of any disturbances in the capital. No bodies nor acts of violence.

“Maybe I should go talk to her.” Zuko muses, it takes Sokka a bit too long to realize that he is referring to Azula.

“Maybe you should just leave her alone.” Sokka comments quickly after putting two and two together.

Zuko quirks a brow. “And why is that?”

Sokka glups and gives a shrug as impassive as he can. “She’s still pretty mad.”

“Have you talked to her?”

“Well...no...but…”

“Then maybe someone should. Then we can decide once and for all if we should have her locked up again.”

“How about I do it?” Sokka asks. “She’s not as mad at me as she is you.”

“Fine.” Zuko agrees. “But you tell me exactly what she says to you.”

“Yeah. Sure, I can do that.” He pushes his chair in and wanders into  Azula’s room. He can make it seem as though he is having a conversation with her while searching to see if she’d left any clue as to where she might have gone. He flops onto her bed and scans the nightstand first.

.oOo.

Azula nibbles on a slice of bread. So far she hasn’t had much luck with finding a job other than two small tasks. For a few silver and copper pieces she had helped an elderly woman organize and beautify her garden and assisted a family with rearranging the furniture in their living room. She keeps the coins hidden in her boots, deciding that she won’t waste it on food yet. She’d rather secure herself a trip to the Earth Kingdom. If she can make it there, she can evade captivity.

She finishes her slice of bread, gathers her scant belongings, and makes her way into town. Perhaps today will be her day.

Something in her stomach flutters. She is already growing used to sleeping on the ground and the dirt and soot gathering on her cheeks. She is already used to having grime on her clothes and being on the receiving end of cross and judgemental stares. It is fine so long as she won’t be whisked away and wiped clean again. So long as her hands are unbound.

Azula makes her way to a pond and strips. Perhaps if she can scrub away the dirt smears that taint her face, she’ll have an easier time finding work. That is if the smell of fish and dirty pond water doesn’t drive them away.

The smell of fish… Her mood perks up some. Perhaps if she smells of the sea, she will be an attractive candidate to assist on fishing or sailing trips. Her stomach lulls some, as she recalls her aversion to rolling waves.

She supposes that she will just have to get over it.

.oOo.

Two days turn into three and then three into four. Zuko’s men fan out all over the capital and some into the surrounding cities. Sokka feels nothing but sick to his stomach. Somehow he feels like he is betraying her all over again. He shakes his head, trying to tell himself that they aren’t friends. That she hates him and he returns the favor. He’d saved her due to a moral obligation and that is it. It is now his duty to save everyone from her.

It is something that he should have done four days prior, instead of pretending like he could bring her home and make her see the light. The spirits know that he has already gotten an earful for being so secretive. And he deserved it.

Still he finds himself saying, “you’re not going to transfer her back there, are you?”

“She ran away, Sokka.” Zuko replies. “I think that that’s more than enough proof that she needs to go back.”

“Of course she ran, they did something to her…”

“Katara told me a bit about that. It sounds to me like she did that to herself.” Zuko pauses. “Which is another great reason why she needs to go back. If she doesn’t hurt someone else, she’s going to get herself killed.”

“I don’t think that she will, Zuko. I think that...I just have a feeling that we shouldn’t hand her back to them.”

“Well we can’t keep her here. I can’t keep her under control.” Zuko counters. “And Mai certainly doesn’t want her around.” He pauses. “I’m not going to take risks because you have a bad feeling.”

I don’t know Aang, why don’t you ask Sokka’s instincts. It had been so long ago that Katara and Aang had made those jabs, yet they hit him full force now have him nearly hanging his head in defeat. But he had been right then, hadn’t he…

“I can…”

“What? If I can’t get her to listen then you sure can’t.”

“Zuko, just let me talk to her for real when she gets back.”

“You said it yourself, she’s angry with you.”

Sokka pauses. “I don’t think that she’s angry. I think that she’s hurt. She seems to get the two tangled up.”

.oOo.

Azula throws herself into the alley and rushes to the other side. Her lungs burn and ache with the effort. They leave her no time to truly catch her breath and so she pants very heavily when she emerges. One moment. She takes one moment of pause; hunched over with her hands on her knees, breathing rapidly and forcefully.

She hears several footsteps and bolts. She doesn’t think that she can run forever. She finds herself frustrated, nearly to tears. She had almost made it. She had successfully secured herself a job as a tradesman of fish. They had a course bound for the Earth Kingdom. She would have had freedom. Instead…

She rounds the corner and narly slams into one of the imperial firebenders. She comes to an abrupt halt and backtracks. A second guard has already filled that space. She is completely and helplessly surrounded.

She swallows and ducks down into a spinning kick. A circle of flames gives her an opening. An opening that she is too drained to act further upon. She tries anyhow, using a final burst of energy to push forward.  A tense cramp in her leg sends her crashing to the pavement. She barely throws her arms up in time to keep her head from taking the brunt of the blow.

She knows that her knees are going to be terribly bruised and swollen. Her arms are certainly scrapped and bloodied, a burning, stinging sensation lets her know that much. She squeezes her eyes shut and suppresses a frustrated cry. Her rugged panting doesn’t abate.

When they pick her off of the ground her stomach tingles with rage, hopelessness, and defeat. They are going to send her back.

She can practically feel the slimy wet of spirit vines against her skin. Feel the leather straps digging into her skin. Feel the bite of the cold as it works into her being. Her head aches and her body trembles.

.oOo. Sokka hadn’t expected her to be in good shape upon arrival. But he hadn’t expected her to be shaking and half-sobbing, covered head to toe in dirt and small cuts and scrapes. The imperial firebenders hadn’t been gentle. They certainly haven’t any compassion.

He notices that even Zuko and Mai have gone tense as they practically drop her before Zuko. “What should we do with her?”

“Take her to the infirmary for now.” Zuko instructs.

They lift her once more. Her hair, unbound and tangled, clings to her sweaty forehead. Sokka feels a pang of guilt. He should have searched longer before calling them.

She lifts her head, just enough to fix him with an absolutely simmering glare. In it he sees nothing but resentment.  “Just remember, I have a lot of space in my head.” She practically growls. “I’ll remember this, Sokka. I’ll remember it in precise detail…”

[datenightfright]

Demands

Series: Hannibal’s Sunshine

Pairing: Yandere!Hannibal x named!reader

Summary: Hannibal is slowly, but surely ingratiating himself into the life of the only person in the world to ever truly hold his affections. 

           Hannibal wasn’t used to coming home to the delicious smells of home cooking. For a moment, he panics. Who the hell is in his house? His panic dies when he the scent of the love of his life, his angel, the most beautiful creature that walks the earth cuts through the smell of cooking tomatoes. Following the alluring aroma of garlic, he walks into the kitchen, smiling as the sun greets him, looking very flustered and adorably irritated.

           He watches as they rush about the kitchen, looking more like a hurricane than a sunny day. He’s suddenly very thankful at the most opportune timing of a severe winter storm last night. Sunshine hated driving in any sort of bad weather, and when he’d offered the guest room, they took it, even if they’d been reluctant to do so. In the morning, Hannibal had left a plate of breakfast on the counter for them, along with a note that told them to make themselves at home. Clearly, they’d done that.

           He’s just about to let them know he’s home, when they turn and take the lid off the sauce pot, squealing when a large bubble bursts and coats their neck. “Sugar snaps,” They mutter, grabbing the towel next to them, only to find it gone. They grunt and turn, only to be met face to chest with Hannibal. He notices their nervousness immediately. “I didn’t know you were home,” They mutter, looking into his eyes with utter shock.

           He smiles down at them, bringing the cloth to their neck to wipe at the sauce. “Having fun?” He asks. They refuse to meet his eyes, a little taken aback by his impromptu cleaning. “Sort of?” They mutter, “I’m a disaster in the kitchen, but I promise it tastes good.” Hannibal brings the now dirty cloth away from their mostly clean neck, “Well, why don’t I have a taste? Just to make sure.” He dips his head and trails his tongue across the line of sauce, chasing it all the way up, nearly to their ear. “Delicious,” He whispers, nibbling the lobe, “The sauce is good to,” He says, straightening. He watches in utter delight as Sunshine tries to come to terms with what just happened.

           Hannibal leans in for a kiss, Sunshine seemingly receptive to the gesture. They were interrupted by the sound of vibrations the counter. Sunshine dips under him and dives for the phone. Hannibal makes himself useful and turns off the pot. He tries hard not to listen to Sunshine but is unable to help himself. “Yeah, I’ll take it,” They say, “you had the evening shift, right?” damn, they were going into work. That was not at all what he wanted.

           For months now they’d been dancing around their mutual attraction for each other. Hannibal had kissed Sunshine, and they’d kissed him back, but he wanted more, so much more. He wanted them to think of him as their significant other. He was so close to achieving that goal. He was tired of being stuck in this hellacious limbo of simple kissing with no strings attached. He wanted commitment.

           Hannibal hated McMiller’s. Sure, it had been the place he met the love of his life, but it was a horrendous place. A dingy little diner he was sure someone would catch tetanus out of, his Sunshine didn’t need to work there. He couldn’t fault them, though. They needed a job, and they weren’t certified, nor were they licensed to do anything. He knew they were working on bettering themselves, but the American school system was designed to fail those who didn’t have money. He wondered if he could take them to Europe, where college was free, what would they do with such an avenue?

           Sunshine ends their call and turns to him, still very flustered. “I’m sorry to dine and dash,” They say, “But Charlie needs the night off for school. I’ll uh…I’ll see you later?” Hannibal smiles at them, nodding in understanding. He could kill Charlie, but that would only make the strain of work worse for Sunshine. “Tomorrow?” He says hopefully. “Sure, tomorrow.” For once, they lean in and kiss him. Hannibal had to call that progress. “Noodles should be done, sauce is definitely done, bread is warm in the oven. Thanks for breakfast, see you!” Sunshine rushes from his home, leaving Hannibal to wonder if it was too early to gently coerce them into living with him.

           As he eats dinner, he’s surprised at how good it tastes. Very few people have the magic touch when it comes to food, but it seems Sunshine did. The meal is comforting to him. Leaves him time to think. Sunshine is much younger than he is, but so far, they don’t seem to care. He should’ve been worried about them using him for money, but the only time they asked him for money was for a quarter to get a gumball out of a machine at the convenience store. They had promptly paid him back once they managed to fish a quarter from their cup holder in the car.

           They were self-sufficient too, something Hannibal would have to tweak to his liking. Sure, he liked that his darling could entertain themselves without him there, but he wanted them to rely on him. He often liked to think about how to make them into the perfect little housebound lover but decided that that might be too much. Humans needed their petty little freedoms, and he didn’t exactly see the problem with allowing them out occasionally.

           Had he known then that things were going to turn so desperately so quickly; he wouldn’t have let them go into work. He’d gotten the call washing up after dinner and putting the food away. Sunshine, sounding panicked, called him asking for help, someone had taken everyone in the diner hostage. The last thing he heard from them was their terrified screaming.

As it was, he was standing outside of McMiller’s trying to find some way past the police blockade, luckily for him, Will passes by, he manages to capture the man’s attention. “Will,” He says, ducking underneath the tape and rushing towards the agent. Will turns to him shocked, “Doctor? What are you doing here?”

“My Sunshine,” Hannibal says, not bothering to keep some sort of decorum. “They’re in there.” Will frowns but gets the message. Hannibal hadn’t been forthcoming with information about his love life, but no one had bothered to ask him either.

“Shit,” Will mutters, things just got a little more complicated it would seem. He leaves Hannibal’s side to let Jack know the situation, the squad leader having much the same reaction as Will. There’s chaos for a few moments, right before Hannibal’s cell phone rings. He recognizes the number and picks up immediately. “Hello?”

           When he read the Romantics, he never understood what the deal was with men throwing themselves into reckless danger over someone they love. He understands now. The sniffling on the other side of the phone makes him insane with rage. “Hannibal?” Sunshine says. Hannibal closes his eyes and breathes deeply; he must be strong for Sunshine. “He says you should pass the phone to someone named Jack…he has demands.”

[cartoonfangirl1218]

Tête-à-tête in a Jail Cell

She had nothing.

Well she had nothing before but now she had nothing and no one.

At that thought, Carla’s mind unwillingly flashbacked to that awful moment a few months ago where her dear Papa was turned to stone by her mother.

A multitude of emotions rose up in her chest, pressing against her. Her breath caught in her throat and she felt hot and numb all at once.

The only person who ever truly loved her unconditionally and cared about her above all else was gone.

He was frozen with the same shocked, distressed face and looking at it through the dungeon windows made Carla wish she was frozen too.

She’d rather have been turned to stone too than deal with this misery and loneliness. Spending every day thinking of how she had failed her father, how truly awful her mother was, and how it all went wrong. Had her mother always been this selfish and uncaring to her? How could she have not seen her mother’s true nature before? She felt guilty that she hadn't gone to help her father sooner. That she had been so swayed by her imagination of her wonderful, amazing, talented mother that she didn’t see that her mom had no intention of sharing the power just like that witch Shuriki.

Carla trusted very few people in her life. Truthfully, she didn’t even trust a few people. She only trusted two people. Her parents. She had felt she was able to not be so tough because… they were her parents. If there was anyone with whom she could be vulnerable and admit her secret fears and dreams it would be her parents. Not that she could hide them, they knew her better than anyone. Well she had hoped they would know her better than anyone. Her mother did not fulfill the maternal role in her imagination one bit. After 7 years, she hadn’t bothered to get her know again or ask what she had done without her.

Though she never said it outloud or in so many words, but while she wanted to be respected, she didn’t think power was a have-all end-all. She also wanted to have her family together, a happy little unit. Maybe it was stupid and cliche and super happy, but she secretly wanted that for most of her life. It was so much better than the hatred and the fighting and the insults that she heard her parents fling back and forth with each other.

Carla wanted to punch the wall and she did just that. The feeling of the cement scraping against her knuckles felt cathartic for a moment. It was white hot rage mixed with a physical pain she could concentrate on before cradling her bruised red hand to her chest. She rocked back and forth, feeling her anger fade and the sadness overtake her once more.

She hated this! She had meant what she said to the crown princess that she would do anything to bring her father back, but nothing had happened yet. She had been in this cell for two months now at least with her tamborita confiscated and she didn’t know what to do. She understood that Elena might be a little vindictive with her after she attempted to kill her and take over her kingdom, maybe she was trying to humiliate her or something.

If that was what she was trying to do then enough was enough! She hated being trapped and helpless with only her thoughts for company. All these stupid emotional thoughts….

Maybe Elena wasn’t going to help her to all. Maybe she was just going to leave her in this dungeon, and her father a statue and was happily singing around the palace not that they weren’t able to cause havoc.

Carla fiercely glared at a dark corner of her cell, holding back the wave of tears that she felt but would not allow to fall.

“Delgado.” a deep, male voice jolted Carla out of her thoughts and she reluctantly look up, her glare back in place. She wasn’t going to let anyone see her cry.

She looked at the Captain of the Guard straight in the eyes and rolled her eyes when he stoically slid her lunch trap through the bars. At least this was a sign that Elena hadn’t forgotten she was still here. She got three meals a day like a clock work.

It was like this every day. He gave her lunch and watched her until she finished and then left to take the tray away.

It was a unique sort of acquaintanceship if Carla could call it that, she wouldn’t say they were close to friends in any sense but they were more than just guard and prisoner.

At first they didn’t speak at all, exchanging a few grunts at most. She knew that Gabe was a law abiding good little boy who wouldn’t break the rules for anything and as such, he didn’t trust her being that she threatened his friends and kingdom.

While she had to admit, she found him a teeny tiny little bit attractive, really it tiny bit. The image of his broad chest only crossed her mind three times at most. But his steadfast loyalty to the rules was enough for Carla to dislike him as well. She never cared for brownnosers or most types of authority and she especially didn’t care for how he looked down at her for wanting more than what she had been born with. She was ambitious and seized what she wanted. It was probably more than he ever done with his life of never getting in trouble.

But at some point around the second week Gabe actually deigned to talk to her, asking if she felt cold. She replied yes and he fetched some blankets for her. Apparently, watching her eat in silence unnerved him or something because he ever since he kept up small conversations.

Carla had tried not to engage at first. But Gabe was hard to ignore. He would make little comments like how Navidad was his favorite season or he had come in with a brush of dirt on his cheek from olaball practice or simply noticing the smell of freshly baked bread on him, it all humanized him. She saw glimpses of who he was beyond his guard uniform and she could tell he was active in his day to day life and close to his family. He was such a all-Avaloran boy next door. He was so normal.

And worse, those thoughts of attractiveness had been returning more than three times a day. Not just his broad chest but also his surprisingly sweet brown eyes. If Carla could tell he was one of the good guys by one trait, it would be his eyes.

Not that it mattered that she thought he was attractive. It would never happen. He was a wannabe hero and she was a criminal that he had put in jail. He was just being damn compassionate as his hero code told him to be, he didn’t truly care.

So they had something. Not a friendship but…. She wasn’t sure what to make of it.

“Need something for that?” He nodded toward her hand as she spooned some of the rice soup into her mouth. All this isolated thinking made her hungry.

“No. I don’t need your help.” Carla snapped a bit defensively. Though Gabe had been revealing tidbits of his life, she had not done the same. Her misery was her business and after she had found out about her mother’s true nature, she was wary of sharing herself to strangers.  

Gabe didn’t take offense at her tone. He didn’t take offense of much that she said to him or even when she ignored him. It was like that as long as she was beyond bars, he could act as amiable as he wanted because she was a non threat. That idea boiled her blood.

She had threatened his kingdom! She was a fierce malvago! How dare he forget that so quickly just because she was in jail. She was someone not be messed with. She was…

Carla sighed and slumped against the wall, admitting in her mind what she didn’t want to say out loud. No she wasn’t a threat. She was a tired, lonely girl with no family, friends or home.

She had nothing.

The spoon she had been holding rattled to the floor causing Carla to sit up straight again and try to play the part of the powerful malvago she tried to be.

Carla looked up to gauge Gabe’s reaction, whether he was pitying her but he was gone.

That was strange. He didn’t leave before she finished her lunch, it was some sort of security risk or something.

Maybe he was just being cocky, leaving her alone to do whatever stuff he considered more important because she was such a non threat.

It was stupid but Gabe leaving her alone was just another strike in the hellhole that was her life at the moment. Everyone left her, everyone! Even the people she didn’t care about.

Carla kicked at the wall, throwing the few blankets she had in her cell around in her blind rage and the tears that she held back came flowing free. Tears of frustration and sadness and repressed emotion for her life that had no answers or clear future.

“Argh!” Carla threw her spoon at the window, but of course, the little spoon made no den in the iron bars that kept her prisoner infuriating her even more.

She turned and threw her bowl of hot soup at the cell door, early hitting a surprised Captain of the Guard in the face.

He ducked just in time, quickly slamming the doors shut behind him so it was just him and her in the small, dishelved dungeon cell.

If Gabe saw the tears streaking down her cheeks, he didn’t react which just made Carla feel nervous as Gabe started to approch her. Him being so up close made her realize just how much taller he was. At least a foot at least. He looked at her with a strange face, like he was trying to gaze at her in a comforting way but that he was also uneasy as if he was approching a dangerous animal.

Carla was very aware of the small space, and just the presence of another person made the room feel smaller, and just a bit warmer as he neared her personal space.

He stepped forward and she made a step backward, unsure of what this whole situation was coming to. She felt nervous and also anticipatory. Rationally, she knew he wasn’t going to hurt her, he was a good guy, but years of instincts still put her on high alert for the potential of a sneak attack.

With quick reflexes, Gabe’s arm reached and just as quickly Carla attempt to turn her body into a ball, shield her weak points but all she managed was to turn her back on him.

She stood facing the wall, gripping her eyes tightly for what was to come, whatever it was. But all she felt was Gabe gently tugging her arm, gripping her injured hand.

Carla uneasily turned around to see Gabe pull out a salve from his back pocket and start applying it. The cold cream contrasted with his warm hands that made her skin raise with goosebumps but also reminded her.

It reminded her of years before when she was only seven and she had gotten in her first scrabble with some other street kids. She had managed to beat them off and even picked the pocket of the gang’s leader, but she also came back with her fair share of scratches and scrapes. Her father had put bandaids and rubbed oitment on her, assuring her the pain she felt at the moment would fade away with time, she still looked pretty to him, and more tha that, she was proud of her fighting spirit. He was proud of her. Just like he was proud of her months ago when she tried to rescue him.

Her tears slipped down her cheeks at the memories and she let out a traitorous sob that she couldn’t choke down. The sound echoing in the quiet dungeon.

Gabe didn’t say a word, he just continued rubbing the calming balm on her hand and Carla used her other hand to muffle her cries that echoed the turbulent feelings she was experiencing.

The moment felt like forever to Carla, each cry in front of Gabe was humiliating but she couldn’t stop. All the emotions she had been trying to repress couldn’t be contained.

Suddenly Carla was pressed against his broad chest, his muscles enveloping her in a comforting hug that was made a bit uncomfortable by the fact that his buttons were pressed against her cheek. But she didn’t move, she didn’t want to move from this warm hug, this feeling of affection. She felt warm, she felt safe, she felt loved for this moment at least and she treasured that feeling.

The hug ended and Gabe stepped away, leaving Carla to be hit again with the cold draft that was ever present in the dungeon and with the reality she had just done. She broke in front of one of her sworn enemies. Not that Gabe was an enemy anymore. Not if he could help her with saving her father. And she was certainly willing to work with anyone against Zopilote and stop her powerhungry mother.

It just.. She wasn’t used to sharing her emotions like this and to a practical stranger. Carla looked down at the ground unable to look Gabe in the face lest he see the red blush that she felt burning her cheeks or hear the heart pounding in her ears.

She only looked up when she hear the clink of keys locking the cell doors and did not hear the familar rythm of Gabe’s leather guard boots walking away.

He was staring at her, a serious yet soft expression on his face, “I promise. We’re going to change your father back.”

Carla couldn’t help the excited tone that creeped into her voice nor her eagerness at that too-good-to-be-true sentence, “Really?!”

“I’ll talk to the crown princess this afternoon.” Gabe gave a curt nod that was lessened by the sheepish smile that followed. He placed his hand on his heart, resuming his stoic guard face, “You have my word.”

Carla practically flew to the cell gates and grasped the back of his collar before he could leave. Gabe turned, a blush staining his face just like the one she had moments ago. Carla would have been embarassed by her lack of control but this… this was too much.

Ignoring all what she had learned and been taught over the years, she consciously allowed herself to smile at him with all the genuine hope she was feeling at the thought that her father may soon be unstoned.

She gripped his hands, meaningfully whispering, “Thank you. Thank you so much.” 

He had no idea how much this meant to her. How he was doing more than just be forgiving to an enemy, he was giving her her Papa back! Once he returned they could set forth on a new life together, one without constantly being on the road or hiding themselves. Just her and him being a happy pair together without their crimes...or the guard haunting them.

Gabe squeezed her hands too, sending a surprising jolt of electricity to tingle up her spine but she ignored as her mind sang “Papa! Papa! I’m going to help unstone you!”

[lovehugsandcandy]

Eight Days a Week, Eight Seconds a Kiss (Part 4)  (Colt x MC)

A/N: I KNOW I AM AWFUL WITH UPDATES and I APOLOGIZE! Part 4 of rom-com RoD featuring awkward Ellie who just wants someone to kiss her already and totally idiotic wingman Colt. You fools.

Pairing: Colt x MC, ROD

Length: ~2500 words

Rating: PG-13 (Swearing, probably, because I swear a lot.)

Summary: Ellie wants to live her life to the fullest, starting with her first kiss. She just needs a little encouragement.

Tuesday: Time to Show Your Worth, Child

Ellie had barely stopped the car when Colt was there, right in her space, long fingers clasping the door frame, blocking her from getting out of the car.

“Let’s go.”

“What?” She wasn’t even fully out yet, legs hanging awkwardly in the air between them.

“Come on, we gotta go.”

“What.” She swung her legs back into the car as Colt bolted around the front and threw himself into the passenger seat. 

“Come on, throw it in reverse, let’s go.”

“What is wrong with you?” She didn’t wait for him to respond before she complied, backing out through the bay doors onto the street.

“Take this right.”

“Were you waiting for me to show up so you could ambush me?”

“We have things to do, don’t we? Amorous adventures to obtain?” His voice was dull, annoyed, the snark of the question falling flat. He looked out the window, sunlight shining off his hair. Bathed in the afternoon light, she could be forgiven for mistaking him for an angel at first glance; however, upon closer inspection, the dangerous glint in his eye and furrow of his brow marked him as more fallen than heavenly. 

She narrowed her eyes. “This seems more like you escaping than us going on an adventure.”

“Maybe we can do both.” He shrugged, finally relenting under her glare. “I just didn’t want to be there anymore.”

“Ok…”

“It’s like the orphanage of misfit toys in there. I needed to get away.”

Ellie waited.

“Get on 110. North.” He leaned his head on the glass, distraught, hand in front of his mouth, eyes hazy and unfocused out the window.

She merged onto the highway and waited some more.

Finally, after Ellie had to bite the inside of her cheek three times in an effort to keep from filling the silence, he spoke. “I fucking hate that guy.”

She gave a noncommittal hum as her eyes cut to him. She had a feeling she knew who this was about. “Whatever happened to not letting others control how you feel, Colt?”

“Whatever happened to minding your own business, Ellie?”

She smirked. It couldn’t be that bad if they were continuing their normal pattern of mildly harassing sarcasm. “…Did something happen at the shop?”

“They’re planning something, Logan and Pop.” Colt let out a sigh. “All buddy-buddy in the office. Pathetic.” He looked at his hands. “I can’t believe Pop trusts some dropout loser over me.”

“Don’t call him that.” The words were out before she could reconsider and they hung in the silence of the car. She grimaced as Colt turned to her, eyes narrowed.

“Of course you’re defending your lover boy. Fucking Logan.”

“You know, Colt? You know what I think?” Ellie huffed. “I think you’re jealous of him.”

He stopped short to stare. “Jealous? Of Logan? That’s a good one…”

“Yeah, I think you are.” She didn’t mean to sound so snide but couldn’t really regret the words once they were out.

“Why the hell would I be jealous of him? He’s a fucking idiot dropout who has no idea what he’s doing in this crew. He’s like a sentient piece of bread that wanders around taking up everyone’s space and energy and time like he’s some prince instead of a black hole of suck.”

“Colt…” Apparently, she hit a nerve.

“He’s like if you took me, made him less attractive obviously, and then surgically removed both this brain and his spine and somehow people around here treat him like he’s God’s gift to….”

“COLT!” Finally, her yell got his attention. “Stop.”

“Yeah, just jump to his defense…”

“Well, you’re being ridiculous!” She gripped the steering wheel tighter.

“Am I?”

“It’s not a competition for your dad’s affection, Jesus.”

Colt slouched petulantly against the seat, arms crossed. “Says the person who’s desperate for that asshole.”

“Ok, none of this has to do with me so stop it.”

He turned to her, face paling. The silence stretched on as he just sat there, looking at her as if he was seeing her for the first time.

“What?” She wished, not for the first time, that she could read his mind as he looked to the floor.

A deep breath. “Yeah. Nothing to do with you.” He caught her eyes, a weak smile on his face. 

She had to look back at the road. At least in her case, the person her dad loved more than her didn’t exist, the Ellie in his mind just a figment of his imagination.

“Whatever, forget about it.” Colt shook his head. “Take the next exit.”

“Where are we going?” She navigated seamlessly through the traffic to get to the right lane. 

“You’ll see.”

“Is it somewhere we can lose your attitude problem?” Ellie grinned sweetly.

“I think it’s somewhere I can lose my annoying smart-ass driver.” Colt returned her smile with a smirk of his own. “Park here.”

“Okay…” Ellie dutifully parallel-parked into the space with a beaming grin that only dimmed slightly when she thought about how impressed her dad would be. He might be proud if he saw how well she could drive but definitely wouldn’t be pleased if he saw the company she was keeping.

She followed Colt out of the car, looking around at the swanky storefronts around her, old money and new money combining in a gilded array that made her uneasy. “Why are we here?”

“Because this is supposedly the highest rated spot in LA. After you dissed the dive bar, I thought you might want a change of pace.”

She looked down at her school clothes, at Colt’s leather jacket. “Isn’t there a dress code?”

“Come on.” He loped his arm around her, pushing her along with easy confidence. “Aren’t you sick of missing out on things?”

She had to smile.

“And are you going to let the opinion of these strangers rule your life?”

She smiled wider. “No.”

“Then let’s go.”

~~~~~

“I’m not even going to point anyone out to you.” They were settled at the bar, waiting for menus, and Ellie couldn’t help but stare. The bar, the room, the people, this whole place? It felt like she was transported into a magical fantasy world; everything was gleaming, gilded bar shining in the chandeliers, beautiful people carrying fancy martinis without spilling a drop.

“Why, no octogenarians here for you to mock me with?”

“No, I looked.” He ducked his head to hide the smile. He looked perfectly at ease, sprawled over a bar stool, roguishly handsome with the jacket and the hair and the self-assured smirk. Ellie felt like a fish out of water.

“I don’t fit in here, Colt.”

He swiveled his stool to look at her. “Of course we do.”

“How are you so sure about that?”

“Well, I know that, regardless, we could steal any of their cars. It helps.”

Ellie cracked up, throwing her hands over her mouth to tamp down the noise that escaped her mouth. This was not the kind of place where the noise that escaped her mouth was allowed; this was a place of restrained luxury, where quiet conversations and the delicate tinkle of silverware on plates were the only noises welcome. 

“Excuse me, but you have the most beautiful laugh.”

Ellie turned in shock to the man sitting next to her, She hadn’t even noticed him when she slid into the stool but now she couldn’t look away. She knew LA was full of attractive people but this guy was handsome. Dark eyes, dark hair, lips curving over blindingly white teeth. She definitely did not expect this when she got here.

“What a line,” Colt grumbled under his breath.

Ellie ignored him in favor of her sweetest smile. “Thank you.”

“I’m Jack,” He held out a hand, which she shook, eyes wide. Strong handshake, confident. Damn. Mercy Park Crew, who?

“I’m Ellie.” 

“Oh boy.” 

Ellie quickly swiveled to glare at Colt before turning back to her other side.

“Can I buy you a drink?” Jack didn’t seem to notice Colt’s dour face on her other side; Ellie silently thanked any and all deities she could think of.

“Sure!”

Jack leaned over to speak softly to the bartender while Ellie wondered if she agreed too enthusiastically. Was she supposed to play hard to get? What did one do in these situations?

Then, she grimaced when she realized the bartender was sliding her a glass of wine. She could feel Colt shaking his head next to her.

Oh well. In for a penny, out for a pound. She took a sip and had to bite her tongue to force it down. Dear God, this was awful. It tasted like someone poured perfume into gasoline. What the hell was this stuff?

Jack didn’t seem to notice the expression on her face but Colt definitely did, his shoulders shaking in silent laughter. With a huff, she rotated in her seat so she was facing Jack, trying to ignore the distraction behind her.

“So do you come here often?”

Colt groaned and Ellie sighed. She was going to kill him. “First time actually, yourself?”

“I come here a bit; I live just up the block.” Jack leaned closer, conspiratorially. “I actually knew you’ve never been here before; I definitely would have noticed you if you were a regular.”

Ellie flushed. Colt snorted. Ellie’s hand clenched into a fist, almost an automatic reaction to an annoying stimulus, and she tried to calculate how long it would take him to walk back to the shop. Not long enough.

“So what do you do, Ellie?”

“I’m in school.” She realized what she admitted when Jack’s face fell. “College. I’m in college. Senior year. Uhh…..UCLA.”

“What are you studying?”

“Uhhh….business?” She could hear a thud behind her. It sounded like Colt hitting his head on the bar.

“That’s awesome.” Jack leaned in closer and rested his chin on his hand.

“So what do you do?”

“Other than be the luckiest guy in the world to meet you tonight?” Ellie flushed as he took a sip of his wine before resting a strong forearm on the bar. Ellie was sure her face was bright red; no one ever hit on her. “I’m a lawyer for a television station. Contracts, intellectual property, all that boring stuff.”

“That sounds really interesting actually.”

“Boring.” Colt had obviously picked his head off the bar to resume his snide commentary. She was about to reply to Jack when she heard a muttered “Whoa” behind her. Colt tried to grab her arm, a quick touch to her elbow, but she shook him off.

He then coughed behind her. She ignored him.

He coughed louder, again. Ellie sucked in a breath through her teeth and continued to look away. At this point, she was winning the ‘Ignore Colt Olympics’ and she sure wasn’t going to give up her medal.

Apparently, he didn’t like that. He kicked her stool, hard; Ellie pitched forward and was barely able to catch herself by slamming her palm onto the bar. 

She whirled to see him frantically slashing a hand across his neck. “Colt, what the hell?”

“Abort, abort, this is bad, let’s go.”

She leaned in closer to his face. “Are you kidding me? I am actually not shooting myself in the foot for-”

“No, you don’t understand, he’s-”

Jack stood next to her, sliding off the bar stool from an imposing height. “Uhh, do you know him?”

She rubbed her forehead. “Unfortunately. Sorry, my friends are kinda embarrassing.”

“Hah.” Colt scoffed. “At least your friends aren’t married.”

“What? What are you talking-” She trailed off as she watched Jack’s face fall. Her eyes darted to his left hand; there was no ring but a very obvious tan line marked where one apparently was a fixture on his finger. “What the hell?”

Jack sighed. “I can explain…”

Ellie jumped up, mouth open in shock.

She was about to lay into him, cheeks reddening in embarrassment, when the woman on the other side of him leaned over, long blonde hair falling over her shoulder. “He can explain.” The look on her face was severe, voice serious. “I’m his wife. We are looking for a third to join us. Interested?”

Ellie just stared, blinking, gaping; was she drunk? Off one sip of wine? She was drunk, wasn’t she? Did they just ask her-?

Colt found his voice first. “Holy shit. Plot twist.”

~~~~~

“I cannot believe…” Ellie huffed the words out around a hot dog. After their rapid escape from the bar, Colt complained so vigorously that he would die without sustenance that they stopped into the 7-11 for food.

Colt shrugged. “You could have knocked out a lot of firsts tonight. First kiss, first threesome…”

“Shut up.” She knocked her shoulder into his before taking another sip of her Slurpee to try to mask the bitter taste of wine and defeat on her tongue. Whatever the magical combination of chemicals and sugar that were contained in the 7-11 elixir, it was working, tasting far better than the stupid wine.

“What?” He edged his shoulder right back into hers, a warm shove. “You didn’t want to go home with the plastic couple in there?”

“Urgh. No, thank you. I came with you, I’m leaving with you.”

His walking slowed as he looked at her, face softening into something that almost would have been affection, if it were on anyone else. She stopped, turning to him with a question in her eyes, as his eyes traced her face.

“You have some…” His thumb reached up to brush against her face, lingering over her lip. His eyes were focused on where his finger was on her face but, even worse, it was all she was focused on, every cell leaping at the gentle pressure, strangely intimate, the busy sidewalk and ritzy crowd fading to nothing. Her stomach fell to her toes, like she was on a roller coaster, the weightless swoop from flying over the precipice into an unseen fall.

“Colt?”

He dropped his arm as if he were shocked. “You…umm….you had some ketchup. On your face.”

“Thanks?” It was more squeak than speech.

He turned to the car, ears red, opening the door and practically throwing himself into the seat. “Don’t mention it.”

Ellie didn’t bring it up, not at all through the ride back to the shop, but she thought about it the entire way, the sudden warmth in her stomach unfamiliar and weird and not entirely unpleasant. By the time she pulled into the bay, she could almost pass it off as a momentary weakness, a never-to-be-repeated softness from the abrasive force climbing out of her passenger seat.

She clambered out after him, clutching her Slurpee, the sugar still sharp on her tongue after the wine, sweetness always stronger after a bitter bite. She tossed the cup into the trash, watching him wander over to his bike, shoulders tense. 

“Hey.” Her voice carried through the empty shop. “Thanks for taking me out tonight.”

He shoved his hands in his pockets. “No problem. Sorry about the guy.”

Ellie shrugged. “Probably better we didn’t get involved.”

“Yeah.” He grinned at her but his eyes were far away. She was going to ask, to probe, but he continued, talking fast. “Well, have a good night.”

“Thanks, you too.” She nodded and turned to go to her car.

Two steps and she looked over her shoulder, smiling to see he was still watching her. She grinned wider and was gratified when she saw his eyes start to shine and crinkle at the corners, an actual smile from him.

Five more steps and she turned again, giving him a wave when she caught his eye. 

And one more look as she got in the car door, laughing at his exasperated “Good night, Ellie.”

She had a smile on her face the whole way home. It actually was a good night.

Tags:  @deimosensblog @alegria1580  @choicesarehard@thefarrari@client-327 @moonlit-girl-wonder @going-down-downtown@soniadotalves@jolietmaraud @hazah@flowerpowell@poeticscolt@brightpinkpeppercorn @zaira-oh-zaira@desiree-0816 @leelee10898@maxwellsquidsuit@liamzigmichael4ever @octobereighth@omgjasminesimone @waytooattuned @i-only-signed-up-for-fanfiction

[adelha-mathilde]

GET TO KNOW THE BLOGGER.

can be used for rp   &   non-rp blogs to get to know a bit about the person behind the screen   !

1. FIRST NAME:            Megan

2. STRANGE FACT ABOUT YOURSELF:  

       My family has designated animals to them and mine is the Duck

3. TOP THREE PHYSICAL THINGS YOU FIND ATTRACTIVE ON A PERSON:          Eyes, smile, height

4. A FOOD YOU COULD EAT FOREVER AND NOT GET BORED OF:              Pasta and or rice

5. A FOOD YOU HATE:            anything spicy

6. GUILTY PLEASURE:     Doughnuts, oversleeping, cussing at the walls when I get mad

7. WHAT DO YOU SLEEP IN:           a baggy t-shirt and pj shorts

8. SERIOUS RELATIONSHIPS OR FLINGS:            I am a divorced survivor of domestic abuse. I don’t do romance in my personal life. That may change in the future once my cynical tendencies temper out. But I don’t do flings or approve of them at all.

9. IF YOU COULD GO BACK IN THE PAST AND CHANGE ONE THING ABOUT YOUR LIFE, WOULD YOU AND WHAT WOULD IT BE:             Yes I would. I’d go back to when I was 20 and have a full restart of my life. Which would include never getting married, finding my online friends a LOT sooner, and getting a leg up on my finances and job. But I’d most of all go visit my grandparents as much as I could.

10. ARE YOU AN AFFECTIONATE PERSON:         I used to be. I gave hugs a lot and was a cuddle bug. Now. I avoid people like they have the plague or are going to throw me into a volcano.

11. A MOVIE YOU COULD WATCH OVER AND OVER AGAIN:          Lupin the Third: The Castle of Cagliostro.

12. FAVORITE BOOK:            Winter of Fire by Sheryl Jordan. The Merlin Effect by T.A. Barron. The Argeaneu novels by Lynsay Sands. But my favorite books to date are the Mercy Thompson series by Patricia Briggs.

13. YOU HAVE THE OPPORTUNITY TO KEEP ANY ANIMAL AS A PET, WHAT DO YOU CHOOSE:              A very cuddly cat

14. TOP FIVE FICTIONAL SHIPS [IF YOU ARE AN RP BLOG, YOU CAN USE YOUR OWN SHIPS AS WELL]:  Not in any particular order. This list could go forever, but these are the ones that I never fail to actively search for.

Addy x Jigen (my OC and @the-demon-gunman )

Addy x Dr. Franken Stein (my OC and a muse from my mutual on Facebook)

Kiritsugu Emiya x Irisviel from Fate / ZERO

Shirou Emiya x Sakura Matou from Fate Stay Night series

Archer Emiya x Rin Tohsaka from Fate Stay Night series

15. PIE OR CAKE:            pie

16. FAVORITE SCENT:            Petrichor (the scent after it rains) as well as freshly baked bread

17. CELEBRITY CRUSH:             my very first crush as a child was Brent Spiner.

18. IF YOU COULD TRAVEL ANYWHERE, WHERE WOULD YOU GO:           Ireland. China. Japan. The Netherlands. Hawaii. New York.

19. INTROVERT OR EXTROVERT:            Introvert

20. DO YOU SCARE EASILY:            Not really.

21. IPHONE OR ANDROID:              Android

22. DO YOU PLAY ANY VIDEO GAMES:             Yes. Right now I am playing Story of Seasons and PSO2

23. DREAM JOB:               Being a world renown author. Or a genius painter. Or both.

24. WHAT WOULD YOU DO WITH A MILLION DOLLARS:             Set half aside for savings. Donate some of it to specific charities. Then I going to Japan!

25. FICTIONAL CHARACTER YOU HATE:  

         The first that comes to mind is Captain Kurosutchi from Bleach. Next is Sasuke Uchiha from Naruto. Then Grell from Black Butler. Last I’ll mention is Saber Arturia from Fate.

26. FANDOM THAT YOU WERE ONCE A PART OF BUT AREN’T ANY LONGER:  

            Fairy Tail. That fanbase community has proven repeatedly to be highly toxic. Which i find ironic considering the series is so into “friendship” and all.

Tagged by: @wild-pineapple-butt

Tagging: @sillydoctor @mistress-of-muses @dannishirosaki @poisonouslightslayer @pretty-little-teacup @dezemberzwolf @fgoprotagonistrp @eternal-servants-of-old @unwcvering @moltenfireblood @crystallinedecore @holyxvi