#OKAY OKAY that’s ‘nough rambling for now

[missus-paint]

some ps and lots of clover

[rurifangirl]

no clue who xiang is but talk to me bestie, dragons sound cool. what is he

Ight so his post where most of his info is Is here in case im not clear nough n I'm sorry already cus i rambled a lot💀

To shorten It; He's partially human, partially chinese dragon.

Now I do have a sketch of what that form looks like but, I'm planning to post It maybe tomorrow. But i mean I can show It if ya wanna just know that it's a lil rushed ahsj

Anywho, other than being able to control bodies of water such as rivers in the place he lives in, Xiang's power Is influenced by moons phases.

For example, with a Full moon he'd be at it's peak of power, whereas with a New moon he's not even capable of transforming. The same goes for other phases, with the power either decreasing or increasing.

Forgot to mention that he can only use said power when transformed into a dragon, otherwise, as we say in Italy, s'attacca ar cazzo (meaning that it's his problem)

However he still did get training at a young age, Xiang definetly doesn't excell but he's not too bad. He stays human most of the time but mainly out of convinience.

He's from a dynasty close to gods, and he happened to get a gift from them. I mean,, like okay he doesn't treat It like a curse rather than an inconvenience.

Being the youngest of 4 siblings he immidiately was put under a crystal bell and even now, being 23, hasn't really gone anywhere. He tried to escape on several occasions, but that didn't lead him anywhere. While he's glad to have a place to call home, he doesn't feel satisfied, nor at peace yet.

Now however, he's goin to have connections to other ocs which are from outside, for example Shou that I think ya saw before. But yeah, I think this Is a pretty decent intro for him😼

Also he's very, VERY feminine . He doesn't even try to hide It at this point, and he adores confusing people about his gender. So much so that many people thought he was a girl until they heard him speak, and Xiang couldn't do anything but crying-laughing for days

[a-small-batch-of-dragons]

Hot Mess

Prompt: Hi, so I really flippin love your writing style and I was wondering if you could write a fic of the sides just flirting(mainly Janus because we all know he's the best flirter) with each other, like in (Un)wanted chapter 1 where Janus was flustering Virgil really badly, that sort of thing. Could be DLAMP or DLAMPR I don't mind. You don't have too I was just wondering... Thanks either way!

First off, thank you so much for the prompt! Second...

Listen. Everything is awful and I don’t understand how flirting works. Ever. Actually, you know what, no. No one understands what flirting is. There have been so many fucking tests run and no one can ever tell who is flirting ever. It’s bullshit. Everything is bullshit and I’ve never understood a damn thing in my entire life and I’m sure as hell not about to start now. So.

That being said, here. 

Read on Ao3

Pairings: yes. LAMP, DLAMP, DLAMPR. 

Warnings: sympathetic janus & remus

Word Count: 5884

If you ask anyone whose fault is it that everyone, for some reason, starting flirting with each other, they’ll blame Janus. Even Janus. He knows what he did. It’s his fault.

Anyway, there are a few things that are a given. Everyone flirts with everyone, with the one exception of Roman and Remus. They’re brothers. It doesn’t work. Anything else is fair game. Are they being serious? Who knows. Probably. Maybe. Keeping anything straight around the Mindscape is complicated enough, for obvious reasons.

 Doesn’t mean there can’t be some level of trying to keep track of what’s bound to happen at some point.

 Patton’s flirting is both the least obvious and the most obvious. It’s super cheesy pick up lines delivered completely genuinely and the sweetest pet-names ever. But the problem is that’s not too different from how he normally is. For some reason, the Dad Coaxing Tone™ is the worst and he knows it. He doesn’t flirt nearly as often as some of the others do and he’s surprisingly sweet about it. It normally just makes them kind of giggly and slightly redder than normal. Always comes with hugs, which is never something to complain about. Cheeky comments and cheeky smiles that leave them second-guessing everything that just happened. And, of course, by the time they’re just about finished wrapping their heads around what just happened, he’s back with another line and here they go again.

 Roman.

 Jesus. Fucking. Christ.

 They should have expected this because his job is romance but fucking hell.

 His way of showing love is through poking fun at things so…all the teasing. All of it. Not just verbal teasing, even though that in itself is enough to make everyone melt into puddles, but he gets close. Like, sneak-up-and-hug-you-from-behind kind of close. Or he’ll just stand really close with a smirk as he teases them, waiting for them to give in and run into his arms. Or he’ll crowd them against the wall. Or the counter. Someone probably dared him to do this—or not, because, again, it’s Roman—but he definitely pinned Logan to the wall and didn’t let up until his grip on Logan’s wrists were the only thing keeping him standing. Also, super gushy pet-names. Like, super gushy. Like Patton, very fond of telling them how cute they are, including asking them why they’re hiding such a cute face, come on, he wants to see how adorable they are. With Janus and Logan, he makes his voice lower, taking advantage of how close that lets him get. Dramatic monologues or sneaking up and dipping them are a must. He goes full Disney Prince and doesn’t let up until they can’t even ramble anymore, smiling down at their bright red cheeks. With the others, he makes his voice very sweet, soft, and gentle. He gets right in their faces so they can’t go anywhere and riles them up until they’re a melted squirmy mess. It’s not uncommon to find someone—normally Patton or Virgil— an absolute puddle with Roman beaming, just twisting them round and round his finger. Merciless and shameless flirt. Roman is the actual worst and they all love him.

  Virgil is affectionately known as The Meme Flirter. No prizes for guessing who came up with that. He picks one nickname for each of them and just peppers it into conversation with a wink and a smirk. The master of timing. He doesn’t need to spend ages winding them up, he just picks the right moment and they’re covering their faces and squirming. Also uses the technique of being close but not close enough to touch. Sometimes he’ll team up with Roman or Logan and just be there all ‘you know he’s right’ when they look to him for help, or engage in conversation with whoever else is flirting about how red they’re getting, or how much they’re squirming. Or he’ll engage in flirt competitions. He’s way more confident about it than they ever anticipate and it always catches them off guard. He keeps an eye on them though, because he knows the others (especially Roman) can get carried away. “You don’t wanna break ‘em, do you?”

 (They do sometimes but shh.)

 For Logan, infodumping is the actual best way of expressing affection and you will not convince him otherwise. He’ll research topics so they can talk about them together if they want but if you think that is it then boy howdy you are wrong. This guy keeps notebooks on the best way to fluster each and every one of the Sides, okay. He knows his shit. He infodumps about them too, phrasing compliments as provable facts. Will pretend to be confused about why they’re getting so flustered, he’s just telling them the truth, why are you so red? It would be convincing if he weren’t purposefully making his voice as low as it can go and smirking. Also a teasy bastard. He will just ask them to do things he knows they can’t help doing when they get flustered, especially with Patton or Janus. He’s asked Janus to squee for him more often than he would like. (Liar.) Or they’ll be protesting and telling them to knock it off and he’ll just point out that ‘no one is holding you. Nor are we blocking any exits. By all means, if you wish to leave, then you may.’ Knowing perfectly well they’re puddles and puddles can’t move. But then ‘oh, you must not want to leave.’ ‘Accidental’ touches make it worse, as well as nonchalantly adding in pet-names. He’s the one who figured out that pet-names make them melt, by the way. Also figured out that firmer touches help ground them, so he offers them a deal sometimes. If they like, they can come and cuddle with him while he flirts. It gives them an excuse to cuddle and a place to hide, but that does mean he’s murmuring right into their ears. It’s a double-edged sword. When he teams up with Roman they are the worst, especially when they agree that it’s necessary to reestablish emotional stability. Or they’re bored, snickering when poor Virgil bolts out of the room from too much blush. Virgil will run away if it gets to be too much, he’s got that built into his whole deal as anxiety, but Janus…forget about it. That team-up definitely has overwhelmed the poor thing multiple times. You can’t freeze with these predators, they’ll eat you alive. They definitely teased and flirted with him until he burst into tears one time, it was…an experience.

 “Enough!”

 Roman pauses, midway through some dramatic gesture, faltering at the crack in Janus’s voice. Logan glances at him before looking back at Janus, his hands still pressed hard to his face, his shoulders tense. He takes a small step forward and tilts his head.

 “Janus?”

 He calls his name softly until he lowers his hands, unable to stop the comforting noise when he sees the tears on his cheeks. Beside him, Roman inhales sharply, only to make a noise of protest when he immediately covers his face again.

 “Janus,” he says, dropping the flirty persona immediately, “may I touch you?”

  Please say yes, please.

 He nods. Logan reaches out, gently covering his hands to coax them away, clutching them tightly.

 “Too much?” Janus nods. “My apologies, it was not my intention to overwhelm you.”

 “Nor mine, little snake,” Roman says quietly.

 “I know.”

 “Would you like us to stay,” Logan asks gently, giving his hands a squeeze, “or leave you alone?”

 Janus shuffles, his mouth drawing tight and his hands tensing. Logan is content to wait patiently for him to make up his mind, but Roman seems to have other ideas.

 “Oh dear,” he murmurs, stepping a little closer, “we really overdid it this time, didn’t we, darling?”

 “I said enough,” Janus mumbles.

 “I know, I know, I’m done,” he assures, reaching out to tenderly wipe his cheek, “I promise. Oh, oh you poor thing…”

 “Roman,” Logan chides gently, “I don’t think…”

 He trails off when Janus frees one of his hands, tentatively reaching out for Roman. Roman swoops in, gathering him into a hug so tight his fingers whiten from his grip on him. As Logan watches, Roman tilts his head slightly, beginning to pepper kisses along the side of his face.

 “I don’t understand,” he says quietly, “how…how is this not more overwhelming?”

 “I think you’re going to have to wait to ask him that, Specs,” Roman murmurs, “because I don’t know that either.”

 “Then how did you know it would work?”

 Roman looks up at him, sadness coloring his gaze. “Because a different face told me it would.”

  Ah.

 “I’m right here,” Roman says softly, rocking Janus in his arms, “I’m right here, little snake. I won’t let anything hurt you.”

 Janus all but slumps into Roman’s embrace, his head tucking neatly against his shoulder as he presses more kisses to his face.

 “I have you, alright? I’m not going to hurt you, you know I’m not.” Roman adjusts his grip. “It’s just like we always do, hmm? I rile you up and then you come here and I cuddle you right back down.”

 He pulls back to gently catch another tear with his thumb. “Just pushed a bit too far this time, hmm?”

  I rile you up and cuddle you back down.

  Like we always do.

  I’m not going to hurt you, you know I’m not.

 “I understand,” Logan breathes, “I understand now.”

 “Understand what?”

 “What’s happening.” Logan steps forward, gently resting his hands on the part of Janus’s back not covered by Roman’s arms. “And how I can help.”

 “By all means then,” Roman says, “tell us.”

 “Janus is…not accustomed to receiving compliments,” Logan begins, lightly hushing Janus’s noise of protest.

“It’s true, little snake,” Roman says.

 “Yes, and we will work on that,” Logan promises, “but that does make it easy to blindside or disarm him with comments of that nature. Hence…”

 He motions between the three of them.

 “You’re not used to experiencing affection like this,” he continues softly, “and especially not through flirting or playful teasing, which is why it doesn’t take much effort on our parts to fluster you.”

 Janus makes another noise of protest and he shushes him gently.

 “I’m not trying to tease, Janus, I promise,” he murmurs, “but it doesn’t, does it? It makes you uncomfortable because you don’t understand it, not really, so you don’t know what to expect next. We have not exactly been…forthcoming with affection in the past, have we?”

 Janus nods hesitantly.

 “This, however,” Logan continues, leaning a little more of his weight onto his hands, “is a form of affection you understand very well.”

 He steps a little closer, rubbing firm circles into Janus’s back.

 “You are a very heat-sensitive person,” he says, “and you understand how to give and receive affection in this language, so to speak. When one of us touches you while we are teasing or flirting with you, it heightens the loss of control you feel because it’s something that should be familiar, but it’s being used in an unfamiliar way.”

 “But when it’s like this,” Logan continues, leaning closer, “it’s calming. Grounding. Especially after you’ve just been in a state of higher stress. You know what we mean by it.”

 “When I put my hand on your shoulder or your back,” he murmurs, shifting his weight further onto his hands, “you know it means I’m here, right here, and I’m not going anywhere. When Roman kisses you—“ Logan smiles when Roman uses that as an excuse to press another kiss to Janus’s forehead— “you know it means he cares about you, that he won’t let anything hurt you.”

 “Look at our resident genius over here,” Roman says, leaning over to peck Logan’s cheek too, smirking when it brings a flush to his face, “aww, Logan, feeling left out?”

 “No,” Logan replies stiffly, ignoring the growing smirk on Roman’s face, “and even if I were, we have more pressing matters to deal with.”

 “No, no,” Janus mumbles, “I’m good now, I can leave, it can be Logan’s turn.”

 Roman raises his eyebrows. ‘Are you gonna let that go?’

 Logan will most certainly not.

 “I can assure you,” he rumbles into Janus’s ear, “I am perfectly satisfied with our roles as they currently stand.”

 Roman chuckles when Janus squirms in his grip.

 “After all,” Logan continues, “we have just established that this can be quite the cathartic experience for you, it wouldn’t do at all to interrupt it before it is complete.”

 “Did you just…create a scientific excuse to do this in the name of maintaining emotional stability?”

 Logan smirks. “Perhaps.”

 “You know better than to try and argue with Logan about science,” Roman adds.

 Janus swats at them half-heartedly but doesn’t protest when Roman lets him go a few moments later, pressing one last kiss to his forehead and leaving. Logan taps him gently on the shoulder.

 “Am I correct, Janus?”

 “Yeah,” he mumbles, a little red still on his cheeks, “you’re right.”

 “Good.” Logan reaches out and slides the tissue box closer. “And…thank you.”

 He looks up, confused. “For what?”

 Logan smiles. “For telling us it was too much, and for letting us help.”

 That’s the first time Logan’s able to determine exactly how best to help one of them calm down, especially after one of them is incredibly flustered. The first time he implements it is under…slightly different circumstances.

 He’s not quite sure how Virgil and Roman talked him into playing Truth Or Dare, but here he is, on the couch, Roman sprawled across the floor, Virgil perched on the back. So far he’s had to cover his ears from Roman belting the third Disney medley in an hour and he has several questions for Remus about where his good clipboard is. Then it’s Virgil’s turn again and he picks dare.

 “Are you sure, My Chemically Imbalanced Romance?” Roman asks.

 “Just hit me with it, Princey.”

 Roman taps his fingers against his chin, glancing around. His eyes land on a spot over Logan’s shoulder and he grins. Logan follows his gaze and sees Janus in the kitchen.

 “I dare you,” Roman announced, “to flirt with Patton for two minutes.”

 Virgil snorts. “That’s it?”

 Roman just sweeps his arm dramatically. “Your dare awaits.”

 Virgil shrugs, getting up off the couch and making his way to the kitchen. The instant he’s almost there, Roman scrambles up, jumping onto the couch next to Logan, almost landing on top of him, hooking his chin over the back.

 Logan raises an eyebrow. “Comfortable?”

 “Shush, Pocket Protector,” Roman says, flapping a hand, “and get your timer out.”

 Logan rolls his eyes, checking his watch and watching Virgil lean on the counter, propping his chin on his hand.

 “Hey there, cutie.”

 Patton startles, whirling around to see Virgil. “Hey! Wow, you scared me, uh, yeah, hi there!”

 “Sorry,” Virgil smiles, not sounding the least bit sorry, “can’t help it. You look like a cute little bunny when you’re startled.”

 “Oh, god, not this,” Patton mutters, turning around, his face already starting to flush.

Virgil grins, his tongue between his teeth as Patton tries to go back to what he was doing. “You just make it too easy, cutie.”

 “I do not!”

 The grin turns feral. “Then why don’t you turn around and show me that pretty face?”

 “Nope. No thank you. I’m going to stay over here.”

 “Why, afraid of proving me right?”

 “No.”

 “Then come on, cutie,” Virgil says, tilting his head, “turn around.”

 Patton leans his head back, sighing before turning around and spreading his arms. “Happy?”

 “Mm.” Virgil grins. “You’ve got such pretty eyes, Patton.”

 He stutters, his face already turning red. “Oh my god. Stop!”

 “Can’t help it cutie,” Virgil says, waggling his eyebrows and chuckling when Patton covers his face, “I’ve been dared to do this for two minutes!”

 “Good to know,” Patton squeaks, “that this is only happening because it’s mandatory.”

 “Aw, don’t be like that, cutie, you know I’ll flirt with you anyway.”

 “That is not what I meant!”

 Virgil only laughs harder. “You might wanna pace yourself, cutie, you’ve still got…”

 He trails off, looking at Logan. Logan checks his watch.

 “One minute and twelve seconds.”

 “One minute and twelve seconds left,” Virgil finishes, propping himself back up on the counter, “so…”

 The sight is entertaining, Logan has to admit. Patton goes bright and flushed, his eyes squeezing shut, mumbling little things to himself and trying not to whine every time Virgil opens his mouth.

 “Aw,” Virgil teases when he breaks and tries to bite down on his knuckle, “don’t muffle yourself, cutie.”

 “Goodness, you need to stop.”

 “I want your voice on my playlist, it’s so pretty.”

 “Why?”

 “I just said.” Virgil props his chin on his hand again. “It’s so pretty.”

 “No, why are you doing this?”

 Virgil smirks. “Because you’re so pretty.”

 And with that, Patton’s reduced to another blushy panic with plenty of muttered comments and Virgil’s standing there, grinning. It’s refreshing, seeing Virgil so confident, so sure of himself. It looks good on him.

 And, of course, Patton is objectively adorable.

 The scene is so captivating, in fact, that Logan glances down at his watch only to realize the two minutes have expired.

 “Time,” he calls, much to Patton’s relief.

 “Thank goodness.”

 “Aw,” Virgil pouts, “you’ll hurt my feelings, cutie.”

 “Nope. No more.” Patton points a stern finger at him, the effect slightly undone by his pink cheeks and the fact that he’s obviously fighting a smile. “You get out.”

 Virgil just winks and saunters back to the couch.

 “Stellar performance, Dark and Stormy,” Roman declares, giving Virgil a round of applause, “truly excellent.”

 “Well done,” Logan says, “that was quite the display of self-confidence.”

 Virgil just lifts a shoulder and lets it drop. “Eh. Easy dare. My turn now, right?”

 “Indeed.”

 Virgil narrows his eyes, glancing between the two of them. “Princey. Truth or dare?”

 “Dare,” Roman answers immediately, “what kind of prince would I be if I turned down a challenge?”

 Virgil smirks. “Alright, then. You have two minutes to make Patton redder than I did.”

 “Done.”

“Virgil,” Logan chides lightly as Roman prances off toward the kitchen.

 “Relax,” Virgil says, settling in to watch, “it’s not like he’s gonna hurt him.”

 “No, he’s just going to fluster him with the end goal of rendering him inarticulate.”

 Virgil smirks. “Exactly. Now shut up and watch.”

 “Oh, Addie,” Roman calls, smirking at the way Patton startles.

 “Oh, um, hey, Roman, um, what do you want?”

 “I just want to talk to you, Patton.”

 “Oh goodness,” Patton mumbles, already covering his face as Roman crowds him against the counter, “don’t say my name like that, that’s really mean!”

 Roman’s eyes gleam. “Dearest, if you wanted me to call you pet names instead, you only had to ask, my sweet, I’m more than happy to oblige.”

 “No!”

 Roman just smirks, bracing his hands on either side of him. “No? Then what should I call you, gorgeous?”

 Any reply is too muffled for Logan to hear. Virgil snickers as Roman sighs dramatically.

 “Fine, I’ll just have to call you by your lovely, lovely name.” He leans forward to try and peer through the gaps in his fingers. “Almost as lovely as you.”

 He chuckles when Patton whines again, spluttering like a fish out of water. “You’re so cute when you’re at a loss for words.”

 “What do you want?”

 “Oh, I was dared to make you redder than Virgil did.”

 “Why?”

 “Because you’re absolutely stunning, darling,” Roman answers easily, “and it’s stunningly easy to flirt with you.”

 “It is not!”

 Virgil snorts and Logan raises an eyebrow. Roman’s smirk widens.

 “Of course is it, cutie pie,” he coos, “all I have to do is this.”

 “N-no, don’t do that,” Patton stammers, trying to cover his face with a dish towel, only for Roman to catch his hands and effortlessly pull them out of the way, lacing their fingers together and holding them against the counter.

 “What’s the problem, sweetie?” He gently blows a strand of hair out of Patton’s face. “Is it just that I’m…right here? Talking like this to you? Is that it, honey?”

 “Mmm!”

 “Hmm?” Roman tilts his head. “What’s that, cutie?”

 “It’s not even flirting,” Patton manages, still looking as if he’s trying to sink into the counter.

 “I’m not even saying anything, cutie,” Roman coos, “and there’s nothing I enjoy better than being able to render you speechless like this.”

 Logan has to admit, Roman’s teasing is enough to make him shift on the couch, a slight flush rising unbidden to his face. Judging by the way Virgil starts fiddling with the strings on his hoodie, he’s not immune to it either.

 It really should not be that much of a surprise that Roman is one of the most proficient flirters in the Mindscape. Romance, passion, and desire all fall under his purview. And yet, here they all are, slowly growing more and more flustered.

 “Okay,” Virgil mutters just loud enough for Logan to hear, “Princey’s getting me and he’s not even trying.”

 “I concur.” Logan adjusts his tie and glances at his watch. “Thirty seconds.”

 “Come on.” Roman tugs gently at the towel in Patton’s hands. “You have to show me your cute little face, otherwise I won’t know if the dare’s over yet!”

 He finally manages to get the towel away from him and gasps, quickly reaching out to cup his cheeks before he can cover his face again. “Oh, just look at you, you’re even cuter up close!”

  “R-Roman!”

 “Yes, cutie pie?”

 “Let me go!”

 “Go where,” Roman murmurs, pushing Patton gently against the counter, “can you think of anywhere better to be than right here, in my arms, while I tease you silly? Hmm? You’re not even trying to get away, sunshine.”

 “Time.”

 Roman chuckles, stepping back, perching his hands on his hips. “What do you think, redder than Virgil’s go?”

 “Hmm,” Virgil hums, leaning over the back of the couch, “dunno. Can’t see his face from here.”

 “I’m mad at you,” Patton mutters, already covering his face.

 “Aw, no,” Roman purrs, “no you aren’t. Come on, gorgeous, if you don’t show us your face, I’ll just have to do it again!”

 “No.” Patton forces his hands down, making Roman chuckle again. Sure enough, his face is beet red, covering his skin with such intensity that for a moment, Logan worries. Then Virgil snorts.

 “Aww, he’s so cute!”

 “I know, isn’t he?”

 “Oh my goodness.”

 “Virgil,” Logan chides lightly.

 “You’re no fun, teach,” Virgil says, waving a hand, but he concedes. “Yeah, alright, Princey. You win.”

 Roman bows, sweeping his hand in a wide arc, before taking one of Patton’s hands and pressing a kiss to the back of it.

 “Thank you, sunshine.” With a wink, he strides back to the couch and sits down triumphantly. “That was fun!”

 His eyes widen when he sees Logan adjust his glasses nervously and Virgil quickly flips up his hood.

 “Don’t tell me that you got flustered too,” he teases, reaching up to poke Logan’s arm.

 “Enough,” Logan says quickly, “your turn to ask.”

 For a moment, he braces himself for Roman to not, indeed, agree, but then Roman simply pouts and tilts his head up.

 “Logan, dare or dare?”

 Logan blinks. “That is not the game, Roman.”

 “Yeah, but you’re the only one who hasn’t done a dare yet, so…” Roman shrugs. “Dare or dare?”

 “It seems pointless for me to choose between two of the same options,” Logan sighs, “but I will select ‘dare.’”

 Roman tilts his head this way and that, considering Logan. Then he grins.

 “I don’t think it’s fair if we leave Logan out,” he says to Virgil, “do you?”

 “Oh, goodness, hasn’t Patton had enough?”

 Virgil narrows his eyes at him. “So you don’t wanna have a turn?”

 Logan fiddles with his watch. “…I didn’t say that.”

 “Marvelous!” Roman claps his hands. “Oh, don’t be so shy, Logan!”

 “We know you’ve got notebooks full of ways to fluster us, L,” Virgil adds, “you’re good at it, okay?”

 Logan is quite proud of his ability to flirt, although how the others know about his research is a worrying question.

 “So,” Roman says cheerfully, “you have two minutes, but you have a harder job than we did.”

 Logan frowns and Roman’s grin widens.

 “You have two minutes to make Patton melt.”

 “Oh, Logan’s screwed,” Virgil chortles, tugging at his hoodie strings, “he’s so wound up right now.”

 Well.

 Logan gets up, adjusts his tie, and heads for the kitchen, ignoring the way Roman and Virgil scramble up onto the couch to watch.

 Patton’s leaning over the counter, pressing his hand to his forehead. He glances up when Logan enters the kitchen and pauses. Contrary to his previous statement, he doesn’t look upset or angry, simply exhausted.

 “You too, hmm?”

 “I’m afraid so.”

 Patton groans, letting his head drop onto the counter. “Did I do something? Or are you all just bored?”

 “We’re bored,” Virgil shouts, “and you’re cute!”

 “Shh, it’s not your turn anymore!”

 “Shut up, Princey.”

 Logan rolls his eyes fondly, stepping closer. Patton straightens up, waving a hand.

 “Go on. Just get it over with.”

 “And I thought Roman was dramatic,” Logan remarks dryly, “but I am not keeping you here. If you truly wish to leave…”

 He gestures toward the stairs. Patton glances between him and the stairs.

 “…really?”

 “By all means,” Logan says, lowering his voice and leaning against the wall to demonstrate he had no intentions of moving, “be my guest.”

 He watches, carefully keeping his face blank, as Patton starts to edge around the counter. He eyes the little bit of space he’s left and he can see the moment he realizes it’s not enough.

 “Okay,” he says, “I’m gonna go now.”

 “I know.” Logan tilts his head and smiles. “I’m not stopping you.”

 He stops out of his reach and stares at the gap again. One more little push, then.

 “You know…” Logan adjusts his glasses and looks Patton up and down. “You do not seem to be particularly…eager to leave, Patton.” He lets the corner of his mouth turn up into a smirk. “Could it be that…you do not wish to leave?”

 Patton takes the bait.

 As soon as Patton gets close enough, Logan hooks his foot around his ankle and blocks his exit, not bothering to hide his smirk this time. “However,” he says quietly, “I do have a task to perform.”

 “You,” Patton mumbles, closing his eyes, “are mean.”

 “Then allow me to make it up to you.” Logan moves, using his weight to push him back into the kitchen. “I have a proposition.”

 “Logan…”

 Logan smiles, leaning against the counter. “Come here.”

 “That sounds awful.” Logan raises his eyebrows. “…okay, okay, I’m coming.”

 Patton stops in front of him, his arms wrapped protectively around his waist. He does indeed look very cute.

 “Touch can be very grounding for you,” Logan says quietly, careful to keep his voice too low for Roman and Virgil to hear, “so if you like, you may cuddle with me for the duration of the two minutes.”

 “…really?”

 “Yes, really.” He holds out one hand, palm up. “Or, you may leave. I won’t stop you this time.”

 He hugs himself tighter, glancing between the stairs and Logan’s hand. He tilts his head.

 “Come here, Patton,” he murmurs.

 He takes his hand.

 He pulls Patton closer, opening his arms and letting him hug him nervously. He hugs him back, creating a little pocket of intimacy apart from the rest of the room.

 “There…” Logan leans down to whisper in his ear. “Isn’t that better? Now you have something to hold onto, something to hide your face, hmm?”

 Patton nods, his face buried in his shoulder.

 The other thing about having Patton in his arms is that he can murmur directly into his ear, which both prevents Roman and Virgil from hearing anything he’s saying and makes flustering him much, much easier. He says as much, smiling when Patton whines and tightens his grip.

 “Do you know what my dare was, Patton?” When he shakes his head, Logan reaches up to gently run his hand through his hair. “It was not, in fact, to fluster you, but to make you melt.”

 “M-melt?”

 “Yes, dear,” Logan smirks when Patton shudders involuntarily. “Do you like the pet names, little one?”

 “Logan…”

 “Shh,” he murmurs, running his hand through his hair again, “it’s quite alright, dear. Physical affection helps you relax, pet names make you feel cared for. It makes sense.

 “You are a sweetheart. No, no, don’t disagree with me,” he hushes, “you are. You care very much about how you can help other people and you do, sweetheart. It follows that having such affections be returned make you feel good.”

 He tightens his grip, cradling his head against his shoulder. “You feel good right now, don’t you, dear?”

 “…yes.”

 “Then, truly, how can you blame us for wanting to call you so many?” Logan tilts his head a little more. “You always get so flustered by it.”

 “No, I don’t…”

 “You clearly do,” he purrs, “you’re not hiding it well, dear. I can feel how warm your face is, pressed into me like that.”

 As he speaks, he feels it grow warmer still. He chuckles.

 “Oh, there’s really no need to be so embarrassed, dear,” he murmurs, “it makes complete sense. Hugs have been proven to decrease stress, reduce blood pressure, and increase the production of oxytocin.“ He smirks. “Quite the addictive drug, no?”

 Patton whines and he runs his hand slowly down his spine, pulling his hips against his.

 “You are smaller than me—“

 “Hey!”

 “—you are, which increases the feeling of protection,” he murmurs, “and safety, and thus you will relax.”

 He draws the word out with deliberate slowness, the end of it turning into a chuckle as he trembles in his hold.

 “That’s it, dear,” he says softly, “relax. Because there’s one more reason you’re going to melt for me.”

 Logan pauses, glancing up to see Roman and Virgil staring at them over the edge of the kitchen counter. He smirks and puts his mouth deliberately close to Patton’s ear.

 “You care for me, don’t you, Patton,” Logan whispers, his breath ghosting over his neck, “you do, don’t you? You care for me.”

 Patton whimpers.

 “Say it, dear,” Logan coaxes, “say you care for me?”

 “…of course I do,” comes the strangled whisper.

 “Of course you do,” he purrs, “of course you do, and here you are…wrapped up in my arms…letting me call you pet names…letting you hide your blush in the crook of  my neck…”

 He shifts one last time, making sure Roman and Virgil can see. Raising his voice slightly, he cups the back of Patton’s head protectively. He glances at his watch.

 “Ready?” He threads his fingers through the baby hairs on the back of Patton’s neck.

 “One…two…three, melt for me, dear.”

 The two minutes run out just as Patton whines and melts into a blushing little puddle in Logan’s arms.

 “Holy shit,” Logan hears Virgil mutter, “he fucking did it.”

 “I’m never underestimating him again.” Roman throws his hands up. “He did it in two minutes.”

 He tightens his grip, his nails scratching the back of his neck. “Good job, dear.”

 And if it makes him shudder and lean into him a little more, well, that’s just something else to add to the notebook.

 It’s cathartic; he can wind them up, make them all flustered, and then open his arms and cuddle them right back down, give them the reassurance of getting all worked up in a safe environment where nothing’s really gonna hurt them. Plus, if they’re too tired to protest when he peppers kisses all over them, that’s just a bonus.

 Janus—the one whose fault this is—is classic spy movie seduction. Textbook. His silver-tongue makes compliments as smooth as his scales and subtle touches that make their heads spin. Pet names, snarky comments, teasing, the lot of it. He knows they have a thing for his voice. All he has to do most of the time is get close and purr and they’re putty in his hands. Sometimes he’ll stay further away where they have nowhere to hide and just watch them squirm. Sometimes he just has to look at them a certain way and they’re gone. He is the embodiment of using the business end of your weapon to homo-erotically tilt up your opponent’s chin. Rivals Roman for how easy it is for him to make them flustered, but unlike Roman, with him, it’s a toss-up. He knows he’s a lot, and odds are, if he’s going to flirt with them, it’s more likely to be for the catharsis reason and less because they’re fun to play with. (Even though they are.) So, if he’s not having a competition with another Side or in a playful mood, he’s much gentler about it than Roman is, he’ll stop a lot sooner or pull them into his lap for cuddles. Or, like Remus, he’ll just touch them, let them hide their face in the crook of his neck, and just run his hands over them. It’s a perfect combination of grounding and flustering. Plus, warmth is good for snakes and there’s nothing warmer than a bright, flushed, flustered face. Totally doesn’t fluster people on purpose to steal their body heat.

 Remus is by far the only side where his approaches are completely different depending on who it is. Virgil is flustered very easily by his innuendos and everything, the more audacious, the better. Sometimes it resorts to the two of them having a flirt-off, the loser hiding their face while the victor cackles. Or Remus will make something that totally isn’t an innuendo into one and Virgil’s gone. For Logan, often he’ll just find him and tackle him onto the nearest surface, flopping down on top of him like a cat and listening as Patton starts verbally vomiting as he gets redder and redder. But overt sexual references make Patton and Janus really really uncomfortable, so it’s the bad kind of flustered. Instead, he’ll just find them and cuddle them and loudly explain how they are in fact the best cuddler. He finds how embarrassed they get very amusing. And if it has the side effect of summoning everyone else to a cuddle pile both because of the outrageous idea that anyone is better at cuddling than them and also free cuddles, well. Oops.

 So yeah. It’s a fucking mess.

 At least it’s a hot mess, right?

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[ugly-crying-over-bucky-barnes]

Promises Not Kept Part 34

Summary: Tommy Shelby made a promise to Jonah Ward while in the war. A promise he didn't keep. But it comes to haunt him when he tries to drown out his sorrows with a young woman.

Part 34: Johanna growing up. 

         Johanna nearly scared Tommy out of his skin when she started screaming at eight o’clock at night.

           Leah was feeding Molly in the parlor while he was in the big room working. When he heard his daughter shrieking, he jumped up in an instant and made a mad sprint for the stairs. Taking two steps at a time, he dashed down the hall to her room. He ran inside and scooped her up. His eyes shifting with paranoia over the dimly lit room. “What, what is it, Jo?”

           “Loose!”

           Breathing heavily from the run, he looked at her with a confused face. “What’s loose?” He flicked on the nearest lamp to see what she was on about.

           Johanna gave a big smile and pushed on of her front teeth forward with her tongue.

           Realizing he’d almost had a heart attack over a loose tooth, he sighed and slumped to the bed with her in his arms. “Joey, it’s a loose tooth, it’s okay, that's supposed to happen.” He sighed, his heart still racing.

           “I don’t like it.” She frowned and reached into her mouth to wiggle the tooth. "Feels not good."

           “Well, by the looks of it, it’ll fall out soon.” He gently pulled her hand out of her mouth. “Just don’t touch it, it’ll come out on its own.”

           A look of terror began to cloud over the little girl’s face. “But I don’t want it to fall out!” She exclaimed. "Where's it gonna go when it falls out?"

           “It’ll grow back, Joey. Your baby teeth fall out and your grown-up teeth come in.” He reassured her.

           It wasn’t convincing enough to Johanna. “What if I swallow it?”

           “You won’t.”

           “Yeah-huh, I could!”

           “Okay, well.” He sighed and rubbed his eyes. “Ask Charlie tomorrow, he’s lost some of his teeth, he's an expert.”

           Then, Leah hurried into the room with Molly fussing crankily in her arms. “What was all that screaming about?” She gasped.

           “Jo’s got a loose tooth,” Tommy reported.

           “Mummy, I don’t wanna swallow my teeth.” She cried fearfully, wrapping her fingers tightly around Tommy's shirt.

           “Oh, lovey, you won’t. Just have daddy pull it out so you won't have to worry about it anymore.”

           Tommy frowned it sounded like a terrible idea to him. “I’m not going to pull her tooth out, Lee.” He replied.

           “If it’s loose enough, it’ll come right out.” She shrugged.

           Charlie peeked into his sister’s room, also alarmed by the screams. “Let’s tie a string ‘round it and then tie it to a doorknob!” He exclaimed after listening in on the conversation about teeth.

           “Charles!” Tommy scolded.

           “That’s how James lost his tooth. He said his brothers tied his tooth to a doorknob and then his brothers shut the door and it came out.” The boy explained while miming the motion of a tooth being violently ripped out.

           Johanna whined in horror and covered her hands over her mouth. “I don’t wanna tie it!” She cried, her voice muffled.

           “We’re not doing that, Johanna, it’s okay.” Tommy gave his son a disappointed look. “Charlie was just being silly.”

           “Lovey, let me see.” Leah handed Molly to Charlie and knelt down.

           Johanna hesitantly moved her hands away from her face and opened her mouth. Leah lightly wiggled the tooth. “Oh, Joey, it’ll be a few days before that comes out.”

           “I won’t swallow it?”

           “No, you won’t swallow it.”

           “Feel better about falling asleep now?” Tommy asked hopefully, ready to end the drama.

           Johanna nodded and wrapped her arms around his neck. “I love you, daddy.”

           He smiled and picked her up so he could tuck her back into bed. “I love you too, Joey bear.”

           After getting Johanna settled again, Leah took Molly back downstairs. Tommy led Charlie back to his bedroom. He tousled the boy’s hair. “You stay away from string and doorknobs.” He warned.

           The boy smiled and nodded. “Alright.”

           Tommy wished him goodnight, not about to tell his son that’s how he and Arthur got John to lose his first tooth.  

~~~~~~~~~~~

           The next Saturday morning was one that Johanna had been anticipating for a very long time. She was officially six and a half and according to Shelby rules, made up some decades ago by who knows who, that meant you could ride a horse.

           Tommy distinctly remembered being hauled onto a pony at a very young age. He almost slipped off the second the feisty little pony started to trot but he was grinning the entire time. He only hoped that his children would have the same love he had for horses. Charlie certainly did, looking forward to every lesson and every chance he got to ride alongside his father.

           Now it was Johanna’s turn.

           She awoke at the crack of dawn, almost too excited to stay in bed for another hour or so. She bounded out of her bed, down the hall and burst into her parents’ bedroom.

           “Daddy, daddy, daddy, daddy!” She launched herself onto the bed, causing Cyril to wake up with a startle.

           “Joey.” Tommy groaned and blearily ran a hand over his face. Since he had been home more often, he wasn’t as used to waking up so early in the morning. He was actually getting sleep now that Leah and the children were home safe. Having Leah sleeping next to him was like a blessing, a comfort.

           “Daddy, time for pony-ride.” Johanna crawled in between Leah and him.

           Her mother stirred but was too deeply asleep to notice.

           “It’s very early, Jo-Bear. The horses will still be asleep.” Tommy yawned and rubbed his eyes.

           “But you promised!” She began drumming on his stomach with her open palms at a rapid pace.

           Tommy grabbed her wrists to stop her. “I’m not breaking my promise. But we’re not going out right now. We’ll eat breakfast then go.”

           The hushed conversation began to wake Leah. She rolled over and reached out for Tommy. “Who’s that talking?” She mumbled.

           “It’s me, mummy!” Johanna exclaimed, thrilled to see that her mother was awake. She flung the quilt up and burrowed herself underneath between her parents.

           “It appears we’ve got a stray Joey in the bed.” Tommy sat up, knowing full well that he wasn’t going to get any more sleep that morning. Once his daughter was up, she was up. He cleared his throat and opened the nightstand drawer for his cigarettes.

           Leah cuddled Johanna close. “Tom, smoke outside, please.”

           “Yep.” He stood up with a groan and went to don a dressing gown. “C’mon Cyril, I’ll let you out.” He patted his thigh to summon the dog.

           The bullmastiff looked a little miffed that he’d been woken up so early but rose from his dog bed.

~~~~~~~~~~~

           Breakfast occurred a little earlier than usual but Johanna was relentless. She would’ve inhaled her food if Leah had let her. Charlie came down a bit later only because Cyril had gone to wake him up. But the boy didn’t seem too cranky about it. It was nice to have three happy-go-lucky children at the breakfast table. Charlie eating peacefully, Johanna rambling on happily about her riding lesson, and Molly nursing contently.

           It was a foggy morning but the sun was starting to warm up the spring day. Johanna skipped across the lawn toward the stables. She loved visiting the horses and watching her father and brother ride. But she especially liked feeding the horses carrots and peppermint candies.

           There was a pony she’d taken a shine to, Peggy, a lovely bay with a white blaze and four almost perfectly even white socks. Standing at fourteen hands, the mare wasn’t large but Leah was still a little nervous.

           Charlie wouldn’t admit it, but he was excited to show his sister the ins and outs of the stables. He’d been waiting ever since she was born to share the sport of riding. He helped Tommy walk her through grooming and tacking up the pony. The little girl ate up the information, listening intently and helping where she was able.

           Leah was sat outside the riding ring with Molly sat on a blanket in the grass. She got a spike of nervousness when Tommy walked out with the mare in tow. Johanna followed with a spring in her step, so excited to finally ride a horse like her family.

           But her mother was terrified. Leah could ride although she was still a little uneasy around the large animals. She sometimes found it hard to watch Charlie’s lessons even though the little boy was a natural. She nearly had a heart attack when Tommy let Charlie’s horse off the lunge line for the first time.

           Now she had to go through the same panic all over again with Johanna and most likely Molly too.

           Charlie came to sit with Leah while Tommy picked up Johanna to put her in the saddle. He stood with her for a moment, adjusting the stirrups, tightening the girth, and telling her how to sit and hold the reins.

           After that, he began walking around the ring with Peggy. Johanna had a huge smile on her face. She waved at Leah when they passed by them.

           “Both hands on the reins, lovey!” Leah called out nervously. “Oh that horse looks so much bigger than I remembered.” She mumbled.

           “It’s alright, mum.” Charlie assured her. “Peggy doesn’t spook.”

           It was almost as if saying it cursed the morning. Because almost ten minutes later, a large hawk descended near the ring. The large wingspan of the bird seemed to frighten Peggy and she pranced a few steps to the side.

           This caught both Tommy and Johanna off guard and the little girl slipped right out of the saddle like a rag doll.

           Leah jumped up and ran over to the fence. “Joey!”

           Tommy dropped the lead knowing Peggy wouldn’t go anywhere and rushed to his daughter.

           Johanna sat up and began, to both of her parents’ surprise, giggling. “Naughty pony!” She scolded playfully wagging her finger at Peggy and stood up. She clumsily brushed the dirt off her new jodhpurs.

           “You okay, Jo?” Tommy knelt down and inspect her for any cuts or bruises. But it appeared she'd only gotten a little dirty from the tumble.

           “Yeah, daddy, I’m okay.” She beamed. “I wanna get back up though, that wasn't long 'nough time.”

           Tommy couldn’t help but smile and glance back at his panicked wife with a shrug. “She’s a wild gypsy girl, that’s for sure. Not afraid to fall off, aye?” He stood up and brought Johanna back over to Peggy.

           “Oh, Tommy, I think that’s enough for today.” Leah shakily called from the fence.

           “Lee, if she doesn’t get back on now, she never will. Can’t be afraid of it.” He assured her and hoisted his daughter back into the saddle.  

           She chewed on her lip but reluctantly retreated back to the blanket. “You Shelby children, so much like your father.” She sighed and brushed back Charlie’s hair.

           He smiled and shrugged. “Did Grace like horses?” He wondered.

           “I think so, you know your father had a beautiful racehorse named after her.”

           “Has he named a horse after you?”

           “He tried to a while back.” Leah remembered, picking up Molly and placing her in her lap. “But I convinced him to go with a different name. I’m not so much of a horse whisperer as you all are.”

           Charlie nodded and leaned against her arm, watching the ring. “I like horses.” Then he added quietly, “They’re good listeners.”

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Tag list: @shelbyblinded​

Masterpost 

PB Masterlist

[ladyrivia]

Savior (Jaskier x Reader, fluff ending)

Pairing: Jaskier x Reader

Request: Would you be in the market to write some Jaskier x reader angst? Maybe they get into a big fight over something and the reader runs off and Jaskier goes off to find them and it’s been a few days but when he does eventually finds the reader they r injured from a monster attack? Up to you whether it ends with fluff or angst. I hope that made sense, it’s totally okay if you don’t write it :) have a nice night/day

Warnings: Violence

Authors Note: Of course! I love this request! Please let me know if you want me to write an angst ending for this one because I would be so down to do that! Thank you for requesting <333

LINK TO ANGST ENDING HERE

“No, I’m upset Jaskier! You left for a monster hunt on our anniversary, how could I not be upset?!” You exclaimed as you walked down the stairs of your shared home, Jaskier close behind.

He was an amazing boyfriend, but dear god could he be clueless on what is okay. 

It was your anniversary and you both had planned to go to the pub to drink and have fun, but out of the blue Jaskier had heard that Geralt was nearby on a hunt and had completely forgotten about your plans.

He had returned the second he had remembered, but that was now, and the harm had been done.

“I’m sorry Y/N, I truly am! You know how forgetful I am and how overindulged I get in this stuff! I know this doesn’t excuse my actions but I don’t know how to fix it.” He tried explaining his side, but you were having none of it, and just needed to get away.

“Just leave me alone,” You turned and pointed at him. “Don’t follow me.” You growled and stormed out the door, heading down the street to the forest surrounding the town. You needed to get away and clear your head, maybe grab some herbs for teas and healing ointments for your healing business. You didn’t know what exactly you were doing, just anything to get your mind off things for a while. 

You walked for a while, zoning out and not realizing how far you had gone until it was too late. The sun was setting, and it would be safer staying put rather than trying to make it back through the dense forest. Going to the main road would also not be safe as bandits lurk during the night, waiting for unsuspecting victims.

Your cloak was big enough to wrap completely around yourself, so you laid down to get some sleep.

You awoke to birds chirping and the sun shining in your eyes. You took your time getting up, you had nowhere to be and you were still too mad to return to Jaskier. 

‘Letting my anger dissipate now is better than risking taking it out on Jaskier.’ You thought, and headed down to the nearest creek to get a drink of water and maybe find some berries for breakfast.

BACK IN TOWN

“I can’t find her anywhere Geralt, I’m worried!” Jaskier nervously sat across from his friend at the pub.

“She’ll come back.” Geralt mumbled into his cup.

“But what if she’s in danger and I’m here sitting on my ass listening to you! That’s what got me in trouble in the first place!”

“No, you came after me, and I was listening to you.” Geralt corrected Jaskier’s blame.

“Regardless, what if she’s-” Jaskier was cut off by a shaken up merchant.

“Witcher! There’s more monsters out there! I was just attacked!” Geralt looked at the man and furrowed his eyebrows.

“Hmm,” He grunted and stood up, quickly chugging the remaining ale. “Where?”

“Up the mountain! They’re hiding out in a cave! Left of the path just past Bald Man’s Rock! They stole my goods! I’ll pay you 150 gold if you can recover my items!” The disheveled merchant promised The Witcher.

Jaskier’s eyes were wide, he could only think of the horrible things that the monsters would do to Y/N if they got their claws on her. Geralt turned his head towards Jaskier and gave him a nod, reassuring him that Y/N would be okay.

IN THE FOREST

You had been wandering for a while, not wanting to return home yet. The rustling of leaves behind didn’t worry you at first, you assumed it was a deer that you had scared. But when it didn’t stop and got closer, that’s when you turned.

WACK

You hit the ground, groaning in pain, the unknown assailant had knocked you down and proceeded to choke you out. You tried to fight back but they were too strong, their initial blows weakening you. 

ON THE PATH

“Oh god, what if she’s dead because of this, because of me!” Jaskier rambled on. Geralt sighed and stopped Roach.

“If you don’t shut up I will knock you out and tie you to the back of Roach for the remaining part of this trip.” Geralt warned, he understood his friend’s worry, but continuing to talk about it wouldn’t get them anywhere. 

They continued down the path, following the merchant’s instruction.

“Bald Man’s Rock!” Jaskier exclaimed, rushing ahead of Geralt and Roach.

“Wait.” Geralt called out, getting off his horse and unsheathing his sword, stalking towards the direction of the monster’s hideout.

IN THE CAVE

“Rob ‘er of her items, then do whatever, I don’t really care.” A voice commanded, heavy footsteps approaching you. You blinked open your eyes to see a man walking towards you, malice in his eyes. You writhed, but the ropes tied around your arms and legs kept you from moving. He roughly grabbed you and patted you down, trying to find any hidden pouches on you. 

“Fuckin’ useless whore, doesn’t even have coin on ‘er.” He punched you across his face. Part of you was glad that you didn’t carry any coin, not wanting this bandits to take any of your hard earned money, but the other part of you wish you had so maybe they would let you go. “Go get Jager, he can dispose of ‘er.” Your eyes widen, there was no good outcome.

“What do you want Marin? ” A voice slurred, though he was drunk, there was a malice to his voice.

“Dispose of this wench, she has nothing, no coin or anything. Slash ‘er up so the locals keep believing there’s monsters in ‘ere.” The original man kicked you in the stomach, knocking you on your side.

“Yessir.” The man you presumed to be Jager stumbled over with a knife, you started to scream.

“Shut up!” He knelt on the ground and punched you in the face. You whimpered, tears running down your face. 

‘Don’t let this be the end, not without a goodbye to Jaskier’

The man slashed across your legs, a wound that looked consistent with a werewolf to a normal villager. He continued this pattern across your collarbone to the middle of your sternum. The wounds weren’t deep, but they weren’t shallow. He lifted the bottom of your dress and repeated this again on your upper thigh.

“Think that good enough?” Jager asked his partners in crime. 

“Good ‘nough for me, I don’t think the townspeople are smart enough to tell a cat scratch from a werewolf.” The room filled with laughter, the drunk bandits finding themselves hilarious.

“Well, I’m not a townsperson.” A deep voice announced from the entrance of the cave.

“Witcher!” Jager yelled, stepping away from you and holding his knife towards Geralt, who used his magic to knock him down.

The fight began, the drunk men ganging up on Geralt, but it wasn’t an issue for him, 5 drunken bandits were easy to deal with. They were human after all.

The clashing of metal filled you ears as tears of pain rolled down your face, the blood running down your body onto the floor.

“Y/N!” A voice called over the loud clashing.

“Jaskier?” You cried out.

“I’m here, I’m here,” He repeated, crouching next to you. He untied your arms and legs before taking a look at your injuries. “Oh my Gods what did they do to you?” He gasped at the injuries.

The last of the drunken men fell to Geralt’s feet, their heads falling nearby. Geralt sheathed his sword before walking back over to you two.

“Fuck,” He grumbled, also analysing your injuries. “Take Roach and get her back to town, quickly, I’ll catch up with you.” 

Jaskier was too worried about you to realise that Geralt was actually letting him touch Roach, he quickly scooped you up and rushed out of the cave Geralt following close behind. Geralt temporarily held you while Jaskier got on Roach before handing you back into Jaskier’s grasp, holding you close as he nudged Roach to start moving. 

Everything turned black.

“Toss a coin to your witcher, o’ valley of plenty..” 

You groaned, confused on what had happened. You blinked your eyes open, and tried to sit up.

“Fuck.” You hissed out in pain looking at the bandages on your body. 

The tune stopped, a gasp came from the corner. Jaskier set his lute down before rushing over to you.

“You’re awake!” He kissed your forehead. “You’re finally awake! It’s been 3 days! Do you remember anything?” 

“No…?” You furrowed your eyebrows.

“Don’t stress about it too much, it’s probably better that way.” He felt your forehead. “No fever, that’s good, means you’re healing nicely. Are you hungry? You must be hungry, wait here I’ll grab you some stew.” He rushed down the stairs. 

He returned shortly with a bowl of hot stew and placed on the end table next to the bed so he could help you sit up. He sat next to you on the bed and fed you stew.

“This is all my fault, I promise you I am not going to leave without your permission ever again, fuck Y/N, I’m so sorry,” He rambled on as he fed you. You grabbed his arm.

“I forgive you Jaskier, I’m sorry for running off.”

“Don’t you dare apologize for anything-” You cut him off with a kiss.

“Let’s just stop talking about this, please? How about you tell me about your newest ballad.” His eyes lit up with excitement when you mentioned his music. 

“Well, how about I play it for you?” He jumped up, you nodded your head and smiled as he skipped over to the table to set down the bowl before grabbing his lute, strumming his newest tune. “This is about how Geralt let me ride Roach to save your life.” 

Finally, things were back to normal.

[spins-ter]

Hi’ya! Long time no fic? This one’s gonna have multiple parts, dunno how many. This first bit is really just a bunch of fluff to build up the next part; soft, warm moments that make me feel fuzzy thinking about. I hope it has the same affect on you? ‘Nough rambling, here’s the fic!

~-♡-♡-~ 

Best Friends Forgotten

Spinel x Quartz Reader - Word Count: 1,790

[Y/N] = Your Name (Gem name), [Y/NN] = Your Nickname

~-♡-♡-~

You were just a quartz soldier, and not a very important one. The only reason you were in Pink Diamond’s garden was because you had been ordered by her to keep it managed while she was gone. Whatever. It was easy work, just keep the plants alive and make sure nothing becomes overgrown. In fact, it was too easy. The days slowly became monotonous. Trim this plant, water the next. You would try to talk to her Spinel, but she just stood in place and hummed a basic response.

You were moving around the garden, just preparing what you would need to care for the garden and the structures inside it.

“How are you doing?”

“Fine.”

You were tending to the plants, and there were a lot. Your eyes moved to the stationary Gem, longing for help.

“Do you want to help me?”

“Can’t.”

You were lazing around, bored out of your mind.

“I know a good game, wanna play?”

“Already in one.” You huffed, not understanding how she could just stand there.

“Aren’t you bored?”

The Gem just fidgeted in response.

~-♡-♡-~

You eventually got her to look at you when you spoke and give you more than a none to three word answer. She seemed to appreciate the company, growing more and more tired of the game she found herself stuck in as centuries passed. And for you, it felt comforting to finally have someone to hold a conversation with. You were tending to the flowers as a thought crossed your mind.

“Do you have a favorite flower?”

“The blue ones.” Spinel hummed in thought.

“The cornflowers?" You hummed back. "You’re gonna have to be more specific, dear.”

“No, the ones with five petals.” She paused as you just stared at her in confusion. “Here uh.” She stretched an arm, not wanting to move from her spot yet, and pointed to a patch of forget-me-nots. “These ones.”

“Ah, I see. They are lovely.” You fight back any second-hand pain from the irony.

“Yeah.” Spinel hums a tune. You keep note of her words.

~-♡-♡-~

Around the 2,000 year mark, you finally got Spinel to move from her spot. She was very wary, but you convinced her that Pink Diamond would be fine with her taking a break from the game. In truth, you had accepted that Pink would never return. 2,000 years with no word? There was no chance she was coming back.

~-♡-♡-~

You hummed patiently as the pink Gem made her way to you. She was slow and moved a bit stiffly, due to still wanting to stay stationary and it having been two millennia since she had last moved.

“Come on Spinsy, it’s fine. You can help me take care of the forget-me-nots. They are your favorite, right?”

“Yeah,” she croaked cautiously, “it’s just been a long while.”

Eventually, she got by you and sat down, giving a small sigh.

“There ya are. Feels good to move, don’t it?” You purred and plucked a few flowers from the patch. She giggled lightly as you placed them in her heart-shaped buns.

“Yeah, it does. Now, how d’ya care fer them?” You could feel a strange emotion swell in you as she tilted her head to the side with curiosity.

“Well, I’m going to clip off any dead flowers. You can water them, yeah?” Spinel squinted her eyes a bit in response.

“Yeah, I think I’ve seen’ya do that…” She looked away, humming in thought.

“Here, I’ll demonstrate.” You held Spinel’s hand and she followed you as you went to get water.

“There,” you huffed, handing the now filled watering can over to Spinel, “now that it’s filled, we can go back and you can water them.” Spinel’s eyes glistened with excitement and the strange emotion panged through you again at the sight.

You showed Spinel how to water the forget-me-nots when you made it back to the patch and failed to stifle a purr when you paused to watch her. It was kind of like a game to her, and she enjoyed the activity.

Spinel opted to help you with the rest of the flowers, and you were thankful for it. It gave her something to do and lightened your workload. When the two of you were finished, you looked at her warmly.

“Hey, if you want to play a game, we can. You can even choose.” Spinel gave you a shocked yet joyful look and you instinctively smiled at the sight.

“Really?”

“Yes, really.” You didn’t remove your soft gaze from the ecstatic Gem. “You were a lot of help. Only fair I let you choose something fun that you want to do.” Spinel giggled in response.

“Okay!” She jumped up and ran a bit back before stretching an arm to tap you. “Tag! You’re it!”

~-♡-♡-~

You wanted to leave to get word of what was happening, why Pink Diamond had just ditched, but you never did. You didn’t want to leave Spinel alone. You had grown fond of her and knew your presence was keeping her happy. Once she had started moving around the garden, you tried talking her into leaving with you, but she never wanted to. So the two of you would be stuck there until some form of news reached you.

~-♡-♡-~

As time went on, you noticed the dust and dirt accumulate on Spinel, and you ached at seeing the neglect reflect on her appearance. Her heart buns slowly became unkempt and her appearance slowly dulled. In response, you wetted a cloth you used to wipe down statues and called Spinel over. She was taking care of some flowers, and hummed when she got up to you.

“Yeah, [Y/N]?” The Gem smiled as she responded, as she always did when around you.

“I… uh…” You stuttered, suddenly embarrassed by what you were going to do. You closed your eyes and huffed to calm down. “You’re lookin’ a bit dirty so I… I’m gonna wash you off, okay?” The confused look Spinel had gave you melted into a warm smile.

“Oh, okay!” Spinel knelt in front of you. You sighed, glad she seemingly didn’t understand why this would embarrass you. You understood that gems could be sensitive, having one yourself of course, so you decided to start with hers to get it out of the way.

“Alright, this might feel weird.” Spinel tilted her head slightly at your words, but gasped when the cloth touched her gem. You paused, fearful of her reaction, but she just stared at you. You slowly began to rub the dirt off her gem, making sure she was comfortable. Spinel leaned into the contact, and you could feel her arms slowly wrap around your waist as she rested her head in the crook of your neck.

“Mmmnnmm…” The Gem purred and you smiled, once again feeling a strange emotion pang in your gem. You rested your head on top of hers as you slightly zoned out, rubbing the cloth in circles on Spinel’s gem. When you zoned back in, she was still clung to you and humming. It was as if she was unconscious, and she barely even reacted when you shifted.

“Hey sweetie,” you purred softly to her, “can you get up, I still gotta wipe the rest’a you down.” Spinel twitched slightly in response and slowly lifted her head to look you in the eyes.

“Hmm..?” A drop of drool rolled down her chin and her eyes were squinted. You giggle silently, the Gem looked so ridiculous that it was adorable. She hums as you wipe her face.

“I’m gonna need you to get up so I can wipe you down.” Spinel nodded and unwrapped you. Leaning forward, you placed a brief kiss on her head. You saw her completely flushed face as you pulled away, giving another soft giggle as you begin to wipe her, beginning with her neck. She was clean and you were starting to comb through her buns with your fingers to put stray strands back in place when she spoke to you.

“Hey, promise not to tell Pink this, okay?” You paused as Spinel spoke to you.

“You got my word, sweets.” You purred your response, and the pink Gem fidgeted slightly.

“I may’ve been made for Pink,” she began, her voice low with embarrassment, “but you’re my true best friend.” You stroked her hair in response.

“‘N you’re mine, as well.” Spinel beamed at your response. “Now let me fix your hair. Whad’ya want to do when I’m done?” Spinel paused for a moment.

“Can’ya hold me? Kinda like earlier?” You smile warmly.

“Of course.”

~-♡-♡-~

It had been roughly 5,000 years since Pink had left at this point. You had long since accepted that she would never return, though Spinel still held a small hope that she would return. Until then, you kept her company. And with every passing day, Spinel became more attached to you. Much more than she would ever want to admit. She would spend most of her time by your side, offering to help with any task, playing a game with you, or asking for physical contact. It would be a lie to say you weren’t charmed by it.

And you had finally found a word for the pang of wonderful emotion that throbbed in your gem when you saw Spinel happy. It was love. And there you were, sat down and holding Spinel as she rested on you. The sharp throb of love radiating throughout your whole being. Although you had gotten used to the feeling, it was still nearly unbearable. You hummed and rubbed shapes into her back, allowing yourself to doze off as well. The feeling was peaceful, moments like this had become you two’s favorite. You were brought out of your thoughts as you felt Spinel shift.

“Hey Spinsy?” You slurred on impulse. It took a few moments before the Gem replied.

“Yeah, [Y/NN]?” She purred, not moving from her place in your lap.

“I love you.” Spinel stayed silent and you panicked as you felt her shudder. You were about to apologize when you realized she had pushed her face into the crook of your neck and you could feel her smiling. Even before you heard her hum, you could tell what she was about to say.

“I love you too.” She wrapped her arms around you as she spoke and you pulled her in closer. You shifted to lay on your back and let yourself doze off again. The feeling of overwhelming bliss you got from her words was intoxicating. You leaned your head over to give her a few kisses on hers, and found yourself drift into unconsciousness soon after.

[orderofthefanfic]

Truth Serum

Taglist:  @letsgetfuckingsuperwholocked @dottirose @nennesse @ek823 @fandomnationwhore @blackloveangel13 @eleniherondale @bethsaly @angelaiswriting @ornissim @nightfae

A chapter from my book The Winter's Shadow which you can read on AO3

Bucky x OC Carmen

Spring - Avengers Tower, Manhattan, New York - May 7, 2022

3:30 AM

The time was glaring Bucky in the face, the taunting red numbers annoying him to no end. It was another sleepless night for him and he knew any attempt to get some rest was useless. And so, he groaned, pressing his pillow firmly into his face before he rolled out of bed. The tower was silent as he padded noiselessly down the hall.

The team was out on a weekend assignment, leaving only himself and Carmen. Under the presumptions she was locked in her room, as the pair frequently were, he determined his journey to the kitchen to be a safe venture. It wasn’t until the soft and timeless voice of the elusive recluse flooded out of his destination’s doorway that he realized he was wrong.

She was singing intimately to herself, low and quiet, and the ancient but familiar sound stopped him abruptly. He hadn’t noticed it had knocked the breath out of him until he found himself sucking in a sneaky breath, pressing himself flat against the wall. Bucky squinted his eyes as he followed the words, never admitting to himself that he was stalling to savor each delicate note.

Got an angel on my shoulder

Got a penny in my pocket

And I found a four-leaf clover

And I put it in my locket

Wished on all the stars above me

And I caught the nearest rainbow

Gonna find someone to love me

Gonna find someone to love

The clank of dishware pierced over her voice, the rolling of the drawers and the shink of Tony’s expensive silverware joining, but her lyrics never lingered as she bustled through the kitchen, preparing one of her signature midnight monstrosities.

Well I tossed a lot of nickels in the wishing well

And saved the fortunes that the fortune cookies tell

I got a lucky penny and a mustard seed

But a warm and tender love is all I need

And I want a love that lingers

And a strong one through and through

So I'm gonna cross my fingers

That I'll find a boy who loves me true

And I'm gonna love him too

Coward was never a word to describe Bucky Barnes, but certainly, many similar terms could be pinned on him when affronted with the very woman he was most definitely hiding from as he stuck like glue to the wall outside the kitchen. His breath was slow and even, but his heart was pounding. If the team saw him now, he’d look like a total idiot, the thought bouncing in his head which he shook away to gather himself. They seldom truly spoke to one another aside from bitter remarks and stale small talk when it wasn’t business, and there was no reason to believe it would be any different this time. So after a few moments of composing his strength and patience, he appeared in the kitchen.

Her back was to him, wrestling with a scooper in a tub of mint chocolate ice cream and clad in a fuzzy, black robe covering, what he assumed to be, her signature black, satin romper. With her long, dark curls twisted into a tight bun, she was a sight of chaotic beauty. Her pale skin was soft despite the years of abuse and scars always seemed to hold a certain delicacy when placed upon her skin.

She seemed unaware of him, but he knew she had sensed him.

“I never took you for the love song type.”

His back pressed against the frame of the doorway as his arms crossed in front of him. He figured he would start a conversion, give himself the advantage in case one started anyways, but he chastised himself for his choice of subject.

Great job, Barnes, admit you were listening and be snarky.

To his surprise, nothing in her seemed bothered: no tensing of her shoulders or straightening of her head.

She just carried on with her preparations, shrugging as she deadpanned, “I was going to say, ‘I never took you as the stalker type,’ but that wouldn’t be true, now would it?”

He hadn’t realized she let out a small scoff before she spoke and it wasn’t until he made the same sound himself that it connected for him. She had just laughed at something he said. NOt the sarcastic kind, no, genuine, amused laughter.

She scoffed, idiot, she wasn’t rolling on the floor.

Bucky shook the intrusive thought away, preferring his own interpretation. When it came to the matter of Carmen, especially with him, that was close e-damn-nough to laughter. He observed her silently for a moment, but after watching her pour an ungodly mountain of crushed soft peppermints and caramel sauce into her bowl, he could no longer remain quiet.

“What in the absolute hell are you concocting?”

“Probably the best thing I ever made,” she paused for a moment, thinking, before she propped up a finger, “Well, maybe not, but it’s up there.”

She slid a pan over and scraped a slice from the leftover chocolate ganache pie Tony had bought two nights before, slamming it on top of the scoops.

“Pie and ice cream?”

“Pie in ice cream,” she finally turned to him, nodding towards the bowl as she began to smush the slice into the mint chocolate, “there’s a difference.”

With a hum of approval, she slid the dessert across the island towards the barstools before she gasped and dove into the cabinet. Gingerly plucking the container of instant coffee, she tipped it over and dumped an unhealthy serving onto her pile of sugar. Finally satisfied, she swung her legs onto the counter and slid off the other side, landing on a stool and barely gripping the counter to stop her from tipping backward onto the floor. She did all with such elegant grace that it made him stare in wonder at her movements.

She was very quick to shovel a bite into her mouth, a look of bliss overtaking her features as she groaned softly. He was still just staring, a look of admiration contemplation set gently on his weary face, and she soon caught on to the steady gaze.

Lifting her face from her ravaging, she furrowed her brows briefly, nodding once more to the bowl, “Want some?”

His arms dropped from his chest, taking a few steps forward into the kitchen as he looked to the hall and back with incredulous wide eyes.

“Are you actually, willingly offering me your food?”

She placed her spoon down with a clank and met his eyes. He could finally see the exhaustion in her, her usually piercing eyes duller.

“I doubt you came in here to eavesdrop on love songs,” she began, and he remembered just how easy she could read him, “It’s just one of those nights. We’re in here for the same reason.”

Bucky was leaning against the counter now, elbows resting on the marble.

“Sitting in bed and staring at the wall is a waste of time. Making ice cream that could put me in a sugar coma? So much better.”

Carmen spoke with amusement, but he could see past it and into the sadness that lurked there. This time, oddly enough, she wasn’t hiding it.

“You’re being uncharacteristically honest.” Barnes was skeptical of her sudden openness, and he knew something was out of the ordinary.

Lifted from the chair beside, glass included, was the ornate bottle of Asgardian mead Thor had gifted to those of the team who were immune to anything else. The corner of her mouth was lifted upwards in a sideways smirk as she clacked it onto the counter.

“Guilty as charged,” she was pouring herself another drink, the number of which he did not know, “It’s my truth serum. Might make me a little too honest.”

He nodded silently as she added with a point to her midnight snack, “Offer still stands.”

They looked at each other for a moment, wordless, and with a finally relenting shrug, he sighed an “Okay,” and pushed away from the marble.

“You know where the spoons are.”

“Yep.”

He made quick work to the seat beside her, allowing ample space between their elbows as she slid the bowl in between them.

The first bite was truly, and unexpectedly delicious, but his composure never waved as they picked at the dessert.

“I think this is the most pleasant interaction we’ve ever had since we got here,” Bucky joked, but she knew there was a genuineness to his statement.

“Power of alcohol, huh?” Her gaze dropped to her lap and an emptiness darkened her expression.

“Can I be honest again?”

The flat attempt at lightheartedness slowed his response as he watched her profile.

“Sure,” he spoke quietly, unsure of what she could possibly say.

“We don’t usually get along. We both know that. But honestly? I’m afraid to look at you. I was afraid that when I did, I was just going to see everyone else.” She paused, swallowing dryly as a sad scoff puffed from her lips. “Now, I’m scared that it’s the complete opposite. When I look at you, the only thing I see is you.”

Bucky’s whole body froze, his breath catching in his throat at her last words. He could feel his heartbeat in his ears as his mouth went dry and no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t focus his mind enough to form a reply.

Carmen, however, seemed unphased and unaware of Bucky’s ever-intensifying emotions, throwing back another shot, and continuing her ramblings.

“You know what else? I’m terrified to sleep alone, because every time I close my eyes, I feel like they’re right there, just waiting.” She shook her head and laughed at herself. “It’s so stupid. I’ve faced some of the worst things this world has to offer and I’m afraid to go to sleep.”

“I don’t think it’s stupid,” Bucky’s voice was unsupported as he finally pulled himself from his stupor, clearing his throat and shoving another spoonful into his mouth.

Carmen turned to him, an unreadable expression on her face before a smile tugged at the corner of her delicate lips and she nodded with a soft laugh, “Sober me is going to kill me.”

“I don’t think you’ll be the only one she’s after.”

They chuckled together as she stared absentmindedly at the bowl in front of them. A few seconds of silence passed before she spoke again with a shrug.

“But I’d rather be honest now, finally pass out, and forget everything in the morning than go in everyday thinking like that and never saying a word. It sucks, you know? That we can’t just say what we need to say, always walking around with a million thoughts in our heads and never getting to deal with them. I’m sick of being silent. And I’m sick of being too much of a pussy to do anything about it.”

For the second time, Bucky was speechless.

“At least now I can hide behind my alcohol.”

Running from her admissions, she cracked a joke and nudged his arm as her tired, hooded eyes met his. Her cheeks were flushed from the drinks, the tips of her ears dusted a light cherry. She was beautiful, and Bucky found himself lost on her vibrant, plump lips. At first, he thought it was his boyish imagination playing tricks when it seemed Carmen slowly began to lean for him. But as her eyes began to flutter, lips parting ever so slightly, his heart caught in his throat. He couldn’t do this, it wouldn’t be right. She was drunk and definitely wouldn’t be leaning in to kiss him if she wasn’t plastered. It would be entirely wrong of him to go along with it, even if maybe he...wanted to.

His cheeks flushed red-hot, first at the thought of things, but soon exasperated at the realization that he’d been wrong when her face missed his and her forehead rammed softly into his shoulder with a dramatic sigh.

“I’m so tired,” she mumbled into the fabric of his shirt.

“I’m such an idiot,” he hissed into the void of his own mind.

Boy, was he carrying the torch for her...

“You should get some sleep,” he finally cracked out, clearing his throat and pushing away an intrusive thought that tried to plague him.

Another sigh and she pushed herself harder into him, nearly slipping out of her chair if he hadn’t caught her. A tired giggle slipped past her lips.

“Carry me,” was all she said, snacking her arms around his neck a she turned her head, warm breath fanning over his skin and sending a shiver down his spine.

She always was a little demanding when she was drunk.

In all honesty, he wasn’t sure if she’d make it to bed on her own. And so, he complied, taking a deep and calming breath before leaning her out of her chair and slipping an arm under her legs. Carmen groaned something incoherent but didn’t stir, laying still in his grasp as Bucky made his way out of the kitchen, minding her dangling feet in the doorways. He made quick work of the trip to her room, holding his breath in the uncomfortably quiet elevator, and walking briskly to her room. It was a bit of a juggle opening the door, but he managed, making his way gingerly through her tidy space. The ridiculous sheer presence of her bed still amused him to this day. She indulged on nearly nothing when they first moved to the tower, except for her bed. It was enormous, grandiose even, with more pillows than he could count in all different shapes, sizes, and styles. The comforter was black and full, with a few decorative blankets tangled within it. A mess as it always was, she never made it.

Gently, he laid her onto the bed, chuckling softly as she shoved her blankets out from underneath her with her feet and grasped tiredly for them. Bucky bent to grab them and pulled them to her hands. After she’d yanked them up to her chin and snuggled up with a soft, drunken smile, he found his services no longer needed and turned to leave. He was almost to the door when her soft and timid voice kissed his ears. And to think he’d almost missed it.

“Stay.”

One word, full of trepidation and earnest.

“Please.”

He’d stopped short, turning to see her shadowed face, his heart pounding again. She’d sat up, her hand reaching out lazily to him as she whispered once more.

“I don’t want to be alone.”

He couldn’t say no to her. It was as if his wild heart had taken over his mind and already decided for him. He had to stay for her. With a soft sigh and a dry swallow, he returned to her bedside, awkwardly perching at the foot of her bed.

“Lay down,” she grumbled into the silence, lightly kicking his back, “It’s weird if you’re just sitting there.”

Bucky chuckled quietly, taking a deep breath before he carefully shifted. He was careful to mind her space as he reclined, but she had no such caution, scooting herself flush to his side with a happy wriggle and little grin. When he turned to his face to see her, she was inches from him, glossy doe eyes locked on him.

He raised his brows at her stares, eliciting a drunken giggle from her lips as she sighed out, “You’re just pretty when you’re embarrassed.”

And with a sloppy boop of his nose, Carmen was out like a light, leaving Bucky wide awake. His cheeks were burning, neck flushed red as his heart pounded in his ears, a warmth spreading out from his chest in the silent dark of the night.

[lavender-lotion]

WinterIron. Peter is their kid

here ya go! find the tags on ao3 here

The living room is dead silent. It's a big room. Not as big as the one on the common floor, but plenty big ’nough for the three of ‘em who live in the penthouse. This room has always been safe, comfortable and warm—not like the sharp, gleaming edges found in the rest of the tower. A big, comfy armchair with a matching loveseat and sectional fill the room real good, especially when his family’s fillin’ them up. It’s more seatin’ than is needed, but Tony says that’s normal. 

So it’s a good room, but it’s not usually quiet, not like this. Tony isn't mutterin’ away to himself as he tinkers at something James’ll never hope to understand, and Peter isn’t rambling ‘bout his day at school with a bright, sunny smile. Knives isn't meowing for attention, pawin’ up the couch or James’ leg, no doubt sensing the tension in the room from where he's curled up on Peter's lap.

The silence makes him uneasy. Lots’sa things still make him uneasy these days, but this silence in a room that normally sounds like home is making him itch. 

“So, you have somethin’ you wanna tell us?” James prompts gently, unable to keep sitting in the silence. Peter nods from where he’s sat in the big armchair across from Tony and himself, huddled up into a sweater that used to be his own and lookin’ smaller than he has in years. “You know you can tell us anythin’, Pete.”

Peter nods, but the smile he gives them is thin and doesn’t reach his eyes. James has no idea what's botherin’ him, but he knows it's been weighin’ on him for more than a few months now. Despite Peter's regular reassurance that he's fine, he's been withdrawn and quiet for long enough that James has gotten seriously worried. But then Peter had come to them, only hours ago, and told them that he had something important he had to tell them, lookin’ more serious and scared than James has seen him in a long while.

Peter takes a deep breath, and James watches as he builds himself up. Despite how young he is, James has always been awed by Peter's strength. It's amazing. “I...I think I might, uhm, like boys?” James nods his head with what he hopes to hell is an encouragin’ smile, doing his best not to look murdery; Tony keeps telling him he does that sometimes without meaning too. This is certainly not the time to look murdery, and he tries to show Peter just how much he cares for him in the twist of his lips. 

“Wait, was that the big reveal?” Tony asks with a snort. James watches as Peter's smile falters and his eyes gloss over, and he smacks his husband upside the back of his head without lookin’. Reaching out, he holds his hand out in front of him until Peter takes it and then he curls metal fingers round the boy's hand. “What! It's not like we're going to be against that! Babe, we are literally a gay couple! We're husbands! Pete, baby, I'm not trying to be insensitive, I promise, I'm just a little surprised you were so worried about telling us that when we're married. And you were there! You handed us the rings when we got married. Married. The two of us, who are both men who like other men.”

“I-it's not just that,” Peter says quietly. James squeezes his hand and offers him a softer smile, noddin’ slowly and keeping up his ‘couraging face. “I...I’m not gay. I don’t think.”

“Okay,” Tony nods, and James is tuned in a’nough to his husband to feel the confusion rolling off him. “I’m bisexual myself, which you know. I—we love you no matter what, ya know?”

Peter bites his lip. He doesn’t nod or parrot the declaration back like he normally does. James’ stomach gets tight. “No matter what, Pete, okay?” He adds, starin’ at the boy who feels like his son with as much honesty as a person like himself can show. 

“I love you guys too,” Peter’s voice breaks and he swallows loudly before continuing. “I’m not gay because I’m not, or at least I don’t feel like I am, I know I’m not...I’m not a boy.”

Silence. James doesn’t have a clue on what he’s supposed to say to somethin’ like that. He’s not real up to date on all the things. Sure, he knows two men can get married, but he only really knows that since he stared at Tony like he was outta his mind when he first asked. 

Luckily, his husband knows what to say this time. “Alright. What pronouns would you like us to use?” Tony asks easily. James does his best not to look too confused. 

“They and them?” Peter tells them hesitantly, like he’s scared to believe what they’re sayin’, and Tony just nods. “Alright, is Peter still okay?”

“Yeah,” he—they?—say, releasing a breath that makes them look so much younger. “Is...is this okay?”

“You’re my so—child. Peter, you’re my child and I love you, alright? Nothin’ said tonight has changed that,” James tells them firmly. He doesn’ quite get it, and he’ll have Tony explain it later, but when he has his kid launchin’ themselves into his arms and cryin’ on his chest, bein’ hugged so damn tight it hurts, he figures an explanation can wait a little bit. 

Comfortin’ his family comes first. 

[crossbows-and-moonshine]

Lunacy Fringe (Chapter 17)

I'm taking a few days away from writing to clear my head. Life's a mess but there we fucking go. Only two more chapters left after this one guys then I'll be starting on the sequel to Flames.

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Zoey was a little nervous as she walked back to the house. Rick had gone to collect her from Carol’s and she didn’t know what was waiting for her since she left when Daryl asked her not to.

“It’ll be fine. He knows he messed up,” Rick said softly from beside her as if he had read her mind. He was gracious enough to walk her back home even though it wasn’t too far from Carols. She chewed her lower lip and nodded before glancing to him.

“Thanks for talking to him. I was just making it worse,” she sighed with a frown. They stopped walking as they got to her porch steps and she turned to face him.

“You know how he is. When he gets overwhelmed he acts like an asshole. It's why I need to keep him in check sometimes,” he grinned wryly at her making her snort. She was grateful for Rick. It was clear just how close he and Daryl were and she was glad he had been able to talk some sense into him. She bid him goodbye before she jogged up the steps and slipped inside.

Daryl was pacing and she shut the door and looked at him warily. He stopped pacing when he saw her and frowned.

“Zoey… I know sorry ain’t good ‘nough alright? And I’ll spend the rest of my damn life tellin’ ya sorry if it’ll make ya feel better. I lost my shit but I ain’t have a right to do what I did,” he rambled as he looked at her imploringly. He looked like he was fully convinced she would tell him to go fuck himself and that she was done. Because he was convinced that's what she would say.

“It’s okay. I get you were worried. I don't need to tell you it can’t happen again, but I do get emotions were a little high,” she said softly as she gave him a timid smile. Relief flooded his body and she could see him relax. He was glad she didn't hate him. He’d fucked up again but once again she was forgiving him.

“Won’t happen again. I promise,” he said firmly.

He made good on his promise. A few days passed and as hard as it was for him to let her leave the house, he did anyway. They had compromised. She was happy for him to go with her when she left so he could feel settled that she would be okay. He still worried but being with her was enough to quell his deep fear so he didn’t lash out again. Even if he was following her everywhere like a lost puppy.

They were outside at Aaron's house. Daryl was working on his bike whilst Aaron, Eric, Glenn and Maggie were chatting away. Zoey by his side as she asked him what every single part of the bike was. If it was anyone else he would have been annoyed and told them to go the fuck away. But he loved that she was taking an interest in something he loved so much and he found it endearing how eager to learn she was. Glenn was better now, as were the rest of them and it was nice for the six of them to just spend time like this relaxing and act like they were normal people in a normal world.

“Daryl, walk with me for a minute?” Daryl looked up hearing the voice and saw Carol. He wondered what the fuck he had to walk with her for but nodded, kissing Zoey's cheek before he stood up. They walked down the street a little before Carol stopped and Daryl quirked a brow at her.

“The fuck we here for?” he asked impatiently, his eyes drifting to Zoey who was now sat on one of the fold-out chairs smiling with Maggie.

“Because I’m worried,” she stated firmly making him squint at her.

“About what?” he frowned, shifting on the spot. He really just wanted to get back to his girl.

“About you. About Zoey. This whole thing’s ridiculous Daryl, you can't keep doing this to her,” the look on his best friends face made him bristle and he clenched his jaw.

“Doin’ what?” he asked harshly, his temper flaring.

“Locking her away. Now you’re following her everywhere? It's not right, she isn't your property and she isn't your prisoner,” she scolded.

He stood taller, trying to push the anger down. This was one of his best friends. He couldn’t deny the words fucking stung more since they came from her. Carol was concerned though. She had tried multiple times to see the girl when she was locked in the upstairs room of the infirmary and when she got home and Daryl wouldn't let her in. And now Zoey was leaving the house she had seen how Daryl followed her everywhere and shot dirty looks to most people if they came near her.

“I know she ain't and so does she. It ain’t like that,” he glowered, about to walk passed her but she stepped in front of him.

“Then what is it like Daryl? Because it seems just like it was before, maybe even worse,” she frowned. He shook his head as he shot her a look.

“We talked it out. We met in the fuckin’ middle. In case ya forget she almost died. So sorry for bein’ worried and for givin’ a shit!” he snapped, his nerves feeling rubbed raw at her tone.

“Daryl you know I’m not saying that. It's just not healthy. You two were doing so well and now look,” she sighed.

Zoey stood near Daryl's bike, tuning out the conversation of those around her. She looked over across the street seeing Daryl and Carol arguing and she frowned. She’d never seen them fight before and she didn't like it. She was about to go over there and try to calm them down when Spencer suddenly appeared in her line of sight, making her jump. She fucking hated it when he did that. She blinked at him, quirking a brow not needing words to ask him what the hell he wanted.

“I just wanted to check you were okay,” he said, giving her a weak smile.

“I’m fine. I feel better now. All clear,” she said softly, feeling uncomfortable at the interaction with someone she didn't really trust, nor like.

“I didn't mean that. I meant what happened the other day,” he said, giving her a weird look she couldn't place. She furrowed her brow as she blinked up at him.

“The other day?” she asked confused making him sigh.

“We all heard the commotion. I was worried about you. Needed to check you were okay, no black eyes or anything,” he said firmly. Her eyes widened a little as the penny dropped on what he was getting at and it made her own anger flare inside of her.

“I’m fine. He’d never hurt me,” she said sternly making him scoff. She knew Daryl wouldn't hurt her. Sure she got scared the other day but it wasn't that she was scared of Daryl and that he’d hurt her. It was more the feeling of being helpless and not able to leave that scared her. The residual fear from the things she had been through in the past.

“You really believe that? I mean look at him,” he said, his tone venomous as he glanced over to Daryl and Carol having a heated discussion.

“You’re an asshole,” she huffed as she walked back over to where the others were sat. They all looked at Spencer distrustfully, they’d heard what he’d said and none of them liked what he was implying or trying to put in Zoey's head. Daryl was their family. Sure he had a temper but he’d never lay a hand on a woman.

Daryl was unaware of what was unfolding not too far away from him as he heaved a sigh and wiped a hand over his face.

“I don’t think you’re a bad guy Daryl okay? I know you love her. And I know this is hard for you. I’m just saying give her a little space once in a while. You know she’ll be fine with me or Maggie. Let her have some girl time. It's not good for you to both be attached at the hip all the time,” Carol said softly as she placed a hand on his arm. He felt his tension melt away a little. Her words had hurt him but he knew she was just concerned. It wasn't like he was unaware he was shadowing the girl because he was shit scared of losing her.

“I know,”  he mumbled, his shoulder slumping a little. Carol felt bad for him. She knew he was struggling to deal with all of this. It was hard enough for him just being in a relationship since it was new to him without adding all this on top.

She glanced over to the girl in question to see her glaring at Spencer as he said something. Carol frowned and tapped Daryl's arm. When he looked at her she gestured with her head over to them and Daryl looked over. He tensed. He could read Zoey like a book and not only was she uncomfortable, she looked mad. And that made him mad.

“C’mon,” he huffed, stalking over there with Carol in tow. She had a feeling something was going to go down but she didn't say anything. Spencer was an asshole if she was honest and she was protective of Zoey herself. Hence why she just lectured her best friend about giving her space. If Spencer was giving her trouble she’d gladly let Daryl hand his ass to him.

Daryl stormed over and just as he reached the driveway, he heard words that boiled his blood as well as Carols.

“You think he won't hurt you? It's just a matter of time. He has a temper. I know guys like him. It starts with just words but sooner or later he’s gonna hurt you,” Spencer jabbed, his tone cold and harsh and Zoey clenched her jaw and glared at him. The others cringed, seeing Daryl as he stood there behind him. It was like time slowed down and Zoe's eyes almost bugged out of her head as Daryl grabbed Spencer's shoulder, turning him around. Daryl's fist collided with his face knocking him off his feet. Daryl pounced on him, grabbing the collar of his shirt.

“Yer right, I do have a temper, but I ain’t touch no one that ain’t deserve it and I sure as fuck ain’t hit no damn woman,” Daryl growled, raising his fist to hit him again. It was like he had tunnel vision. All he could see was this smarmy prick who was trying to tell his girl he would hurt her and it made him more mad than he'd ever been. His fist hit his jaw once more before he felt hands on him, struggling to drag him away in all his fury.

He could just about make out the frantic pleas of those around him but through it all he heard her. He heard Zoey begging him to stop and it was like the cloud lifted off him and he stopped struggling against the hold Abe and Rick had on him. Spencer lay on the floor groaning, his jaw and eye already swollen. Everyone was staring at him and when he turned his eyes to his girl she had a look on her face he couldn't quite read. And that bothered him. He always read her perfectly.

“My house, now,” Rick growled at him, feeling as he stopped fighting them. Daryl gave the girl one last look, watching as some people helped Spencer to his feet. Daryl trudged off after Rick, his hand hurting like a bitch.

When they got to Rick's house he gave him a look that made him avert his eyes. He knew he was about to get an ear-bashing. Rick had that cop look all over his damn face.

“You wanna tell me what the fuck that was about?” he asked incredulously, making Daryl scoff and shake his head.

“Prick got what was comin’ to him. Goin’ round tellin’ people bullshit. Tellin’ Zoey I’mma end up hurtin’ her cause I got a temper,” he glowered.

“So what? He’s goin’ around tellin’ people you got a temper and the logical thing in your mind is to pounce on him and beat the shit out of him? To prove him right?!” Rick was shouting now and it startled Daryl a little. He felt like he was being scolded by his father and he sneered at him.

“Ain’t nothin’ logical about it. I got mad. He’s gonna stand there and make my girl feel uncomfortable like that? I could see it all over her. He’s all up in her space spoutin’ off bullshit like I’m some woman beater!” he fumed, glaring at Rick. Rick shook his head before wiping a hand over his face.

“This isn't the way to solve things brother. You come to me if you have problems with someone here. Me! And I’ll deal with it! You don’t go around beatin' the shit out of people here Daryl!” Rick hissed, making Daryl clench and unclench his fists by his sides.

“I ain’t gotta do shit! If some prick went up to Michonne and started spewin’ all this bullshit you’d beat ‘em to the ground! Actin’ like ya ain’t got no damn temper of ya own when ya beat the fuckin’ shit outta Pete for what he did!” he yelled, stepping closer to Rick as he squared off with him.

“I snapped. And I shouldn't have. That ain't the way we solve things here anymore. You’re my best friend, my brother. I love you like my own blood but I’m the leader here Daryl. Best remember that. You haven't been the same since she got sick and this is gettin’ out of hand. Don't make me separate you both, brother,” Rick said carefully, his voice low.

Daryl looked at him with burning fury behind his blue eyes and Rick swallowed thickly. He really thought he was about to get a punch to the face too but this shit needed to be said. Daryl was simmering with rage. Everyone fucking talking shit about him like this, like he was some God awful person. It was gnawing away at him. Fueling the bad thoughts about himself that had been pushed away because of Zoey. She made him feel worth something. Like a good man. Now he was back to feeling worthless and nothing more than a piece of shit. He stepped right into Ricks personal space and Rick stood tall, trying not to let it bother him even though he had to admit he did feel intimidated.

“It’ll be a cold day in hell ‘fore ya take her away from me, brother. Ya took my kin away from me once, I ain't gonna let ya do it a second time,” he snarled low, his voice rough as he looked at him. Rick shook his head, his words making his heart ache a little. He’d always felt guilty for the Merle thing. Leaving him there on the roof to die like that. Sure he got away but everything that happened after, Merle being involved with the governor, his death, he knew it was on him.

“I need you, Daryl. You’re my right hand. I can't have you doin’ this, scarin’ everybody. I get you got mad. I fuckin’ get it. But I need you on board with this. I can't run this place by myself,” Rick sighed, looking defeated. Daryl's words seemingly taking the wind right out of his sails. Daryl looked at him for a minute, his own heart weighing heavy. He didn't fight with Rick often and never like this. He hated fighting with him. He hated dragging up the past because that's what it was. The past. They were both different people now and they had forged a bond despite all odds and Daryl felt a kinship to the man like his own flesh and blood. But the threat of him taking Zoey away made him feel murderous.

“Just keep the prick away from me and Zo and we won’t have any problems,” he huffed, glaring at him one last time before he stormed out. He almost slammed the door but in the back of his mind, he thought of little Judith who was no doubt sleeping upstairs.

As he walked back down the street he just felt like shit. His anger ebbing away and being replaced by shame. He knew what he did wasn't really the right thing to do but he hadn't been able to control himself. Zoey's obvious discomfort coupled with the pricks words had him seeing red. The people walking around stared at him cautiously and he sneered to himself. People seemed scared of him now. Of course he had to fuck all this up. Zoey was nowhere to be seen and he was worried what she would say when he saw her. The shame only got worse and by the time he entered the house, he wanted to crawl into a hole a die.

Taglist; @risingphoenix761 @daryldixonandfrogs @arlaina28 @divadinag @keeperofwonderlandus @jodiereedus22 @easnuppa @fand0m-fiend @txladyj-blog @walkingdead-dixon @of-storms-and-sadness

[sassyhazelowl]

Fairy Tail Pride

Day 14 Prompt: “Who says you can’t explore?” Pairing: bi!gajeel x pan!levy @ft-wwtdp

                                                           ~*~

Levy wasn’t sure, exactly, how the topic had come up. Really, this is where her rambling always led - right to trouble. And if there was anything Gajeel loved more than her, it was a good argument over trouble.

‘Exploration’ he had dubbed it, cracking a not-funny joke both had probably heard a hundred times about a phase. He’d hurried on at her look, explaining they should explore at least a little about how they felt. He meant to use the word ‘cathartic’ to explain but he mostly just called it touchy, feeling ��sharing shit.’

Levy called it being nosy. Gajeel was the biggest gossip she’d ever met, and once he’d gotten wind that she was pan during one of her long, rambling rants, he was silent for a long while before admitting he was bi.

The admission took her by surprise - not that he was bi but that he trusted her enough to tell her. She knew by experience that wandering around proclaiming yourself to be bi or pan shrunk the dating pool amazingly fast. Plus, Gajeel was very invested in his manliness sometimes. Levy was touched he told her… until she realized what kind of conversations that lead to. Because every conversation tended to lead to this - the man loved to prod, she swore.

“Yer not serious,” he growled, shifting beneath her in a mixture of outrage and surprise. A huge, dramatic sigh gusted out, “That pretty boy?”

“Gajeel, Eve is good looking! All the girls in the guild think so. Well, except Erza. What do you have against him?”

“Twiggy,” he grunted with distaste. “Don’t like twiggy guys ‘sall.”

“Whatever, you big bi baby you like twiggy girls well enough!” she rolled her warm brown eyes and thumped her head against his chest with a thunk. He missed her humor and grumped until she prompted, “Your turn.”

He shoved a bicep in her face, just under her nose, and then smushed her. Kicking and giggling, she squirmed free and poked him sharply with her elbow in the gut, avoiding being dumped out of his lap as he bucked in annoyance. Huffing, he took his turn in the game, voice taking a bit of a lusty tone, “Laxus.”

Levy gasped, stomach fluttering a bit, “Laxus.”

“Yeh, so?” he was getting puffed up, and Levy considered needling him a bit, but instead she grinned, “Laxus is hot. All those muscles, so tall, that chiseled jaw? Good thing you’ve got such a shining personality, Gajeel, because otherwise he’d be major competition.”

Gajeel did dump her out of his lap then, “Yer lucky, twiggy.” Okay, so he hadn’t missed her jab earlier. With an evil grin, he struck like a snake while she was still a yelping tangle of limbs, rolling them over and over until they sprawled on the carpet together comfortably and breathless.

Levy had never really considered it before, that Gajeel might feel differently depending on the person involved. She and Eve really weren’t that far off in a lot of ways. But Gajeel’s preference for her was definitely not hypothetically. They were dressed, at the moment, but earlier it’d been a different kind of wrestling, and she wasn’t kidding about muscles being hot and sexy.

“My turn. Hmm, what about MiraJane? She’s very pretty.” Levy propped her chin on his chest to see his face better.

His face was one she’d remember forever.

“So that’s a no I guess.”

Gajeel’s lip twisted a bit, “Pretty, sure, pretty demonic. My turn… how ‘bout Erza’s beau, whatshisface… he’s ‘andsome ‘nough, in a shaggy, serious way.”

“JELLAL?” Levy yelped, face burning in mortification. Gajeel perked up, sensing dirt, and raised a studded eyebrow in askance. Her face was now imitating a lobster, and she wondered if she’d burned all those issues with heart throb Siegrin in them. Erza had taken to violently destroying any merch or media she found of the man, but he was insanely popular with teenage girls and Levy was no exception - there were a lot of copies, plenty of private hiding places and only one of Erza, as rage-filled as she’d been. Plus, she hadn’t ever paid much mind to Levy, so there was a fair chance a fat stack of black mail material was under her bed just waiting innocently for Gajeel to find it.

“Yup, that guy,” he drawled, propping himself on an elbow in that lazy way of his that she loved so much. It made her weak, and he knew it. That bastard. “Blue hair, big tattoo on ‘is face, mopes like his puppy was ‘icked.”

Normally she’d be tickled to hear the word ‘mopes’ out of Gajeel’s mouth - she’d been working hard to expand his vocabulary so they could argue better - but her mind was frantically racing to cover up her embarrassing secret… she’d been a groupie, caught up in the passion most young women had for popular celebrities. She bet Gajeel hadn’t been so goofy and immature about his crushes. Crap. Crap crap crap.

“Ah,” Gajeel murmured, that noise he made before he pitched out something very raunchy or politically incorrect. Nonononoooooooooo… “He was that kinda crush, huh?” He made a very rude gesture with two fingers on his right hand and Levy shrieked like a kettle, catching his meaning very, very clearly. And, unfortunately, he wasn’t wrong.

“I hate you.”

He leaned over and whispered huskily in her ear, giving words that were half promise and half appeasement that almost made her forgive him, then muttered cheekily, “There’s quite the poster under yer bed.”

“GAJEEL! THAT’S CHEATING! You - you bi bastard!”

“All’s fair in love, attraction and games, pan princess,” the man chuckled, having gotten the rise he wanted. He barely avoided the headbutt, which made him laugh harder, like the large, endearing, vexing bear of a man he was. She let him press a kiss to the top of her head, melting at the touch, irritation draining away.

Trouble. She was attracted to the whole world, and she got into bed with trouble, and she supposed she loved trouble too. Just a bit. But not right now.

[i-am-bi-not-gonna-lie]

I just wanted to share that there's a movie I'm watching called Bridget jone's baby, and not only are there same sex couples, but they've also said bisexuals and stuff, and there's a scene where you can see boobs!! This movie is great! Okay nough rambling XD have a nice day

Ohh, I got introduced to Bridget Jones a couple of months ago but I only watched the first two. I should watch the third one now then! Hope you’re having a lovely day too ☺️

[shut-up-math]

The Rowdy 3 Holiday Special

{Here is Chapter in a new fic I’m starting. Amanda gets a cold during the Holiday season and the Rowdy 3 decide to help by having their first Christmas together in hopes to help her feel better while she rests }

Chapter 1:

“Is it just me or is the snow extra…snowy this year?” Vogel asked as he formed another snow ball to add to his pile that had now grown in a reletivly decent size. Gripps knelt beside him packing the same snow ball over and over until it crushed only to start again. “Too soft.” Gripps shook his head finally giving up and letting it drop to the ground. “stone is much better, breaks stuff instead of breaking.” Taking his glove between his teeth, Gripps pulled it off to wipe his palms on his pants. “Why do we we have to wear these hand socks again? Drummer said something about frost bite?” “Is that like, when the snow bites you back?” Vogel turned around when he sensed Amanda walking up behind them. “They’re called ‘Gloves’, Gripps.” Amanda explained while walking with her hands behind her back. “And you probably shouldn’t bite snow Vogel, it’s like hella dirty.” There was a michevious grin on her lips and both Rowdies could sense a strange delight coming from her. At almost the same moment it hit them. 

“NO! Drummer! You said the Epic Snow War-Battle Extraviganza-palooza-fest wasn’t for a nother fifteen minutes!!” Vogel covered his face, peeking through his elbow at her. “C'mon Boss! Those were the rules.” With a heavy sigh Gripps stood up shaking his head. “There are no rules in Epic Snow War-Battle Extraviganza-palooza-fest …RUN!!” He no sooner got the words out and Amanda had nailed him in the shoulder with a snow ball. Vogel had already began whailing snow at both of them with a wild cackle before darting behind a tree. The others retreated as well, quickly loading up on more snow balls. It wasn’t long before a sea of snow balls and the thwap sound they made as they struck their targets, filled the air. This went on for quite a while before the rumbling of the Rowdy 3 Van bellowed in the parking lot behind the woods where they were battling. The three haulted their war for a moment to gather and watch as it did doughnuts in the snow, slowly drifting closer and closer until it slammed on the breaks, covering them in a blanket of snow. “WE HAVE FORMED AN ALLIANCE!!” Cross shouted as he ripped the van door open and emerging with his arms in the air victoriously. Martin simply smirked from behind the steering wheel while he rolled down the window at the snow covered Rowdies. He peered down over his glasses with a raise of his eyebrows when he saw the glares. “Only way to ever win a war is to make a few friends along the way. I ain’t exactly a 'every man for himself’ kinda guy.” He said with a shrug before getting out  of the vehical and offering Amanda a hand out of the snow. He couldn’t help but notice the purple shade on her shivering lips. It was easy to forget that unlike the rest of the Rowdy 3 Amanda had more human vulnerabilities. “Alright, war’s over. I’m callin’ victory. Now c'mon, get in the van before you freeze t’ death, Drummer Girl.” His arm linked around her shoulders, ushering her into the van, his hand lingering an exta moment on the nape of her neck. “No fair! You cheated!” Vogel pointed a finger at him with a glare. “I call rematch.” “Or at least write up a peace treaty.” Gripps added while he nudged  Vogel into the van as well. Despite the jokes and teasing, they didn’t need more than a few glances among one another to understand play time was over. It wasn’t worth the risk of getting Amanda sick, though judging by the pink nose and watery eyes, it may have been a little late for that. Martin revved up the van, putting the heat on full blast in hopes to warm her up a bit quicker. He looked into the rearview mirror as he drove to see her with her arms wrapped around herself trying to concerve heat. Without saying a word Gripps placed his coat over her shoulders and Amanda would have been lying if she’d said the warmth didn’t feel nice. “You guys don’t have to be so fragile.” She sniffled with a half hearted chuckle. “It’s just a little cold. I get them every year around Christmas. My grammy used to make hot coco for me and Todd when we were kids.” She leaned back pulling the coat tighter around her. “What’s a Grammy?” “What’s hot coco?” “What’s Christmas?” Vogel, Cross and Gripps all asked at the same time, Vogel speaking last. The questions struck her for a moment realizing that thanks to Black Wing the boys had a lot of social gaps in their knowledge. “Wait a second?” She sat up straight and tilted her head. “Y-you guy’s have never had a Christmas?” Eyes fell to each Rowdy boy, falling to Martin last who simply shrugged. “Can’t really celebrate somethin’ you don’t know anything about.” He spoke over his shoulder while he drove. “Black Wing didn’t exactly invite us to the anual Christmas party.” There came a long moment of silence while Amanda tried to imagine what that must have been like, only to realize it was more terrifying just imagining. Living it must have been hell. Cross felt a shift in the mood and decided it was time for a change of topic. “Tell us about it, Drummer!” He nudged her knee with his crowbar. “What’s it like? This Christmas stuff? I heard it’s to celebrate some guy in a big red coat’s birthday!” Amanda couldn’t help but laugh softly at his rendition of christmas. “No, it’s the day Santa Clause comes down from the heavens and gives eggs to good boys and girls.” Vogel chimed in which only made her laugh more and shake her head. “No, no nothing like that?” She stopped them before things got even sillier. “Christmas can mean a lot of things to a lot of people but to my family, it was just a Holiday where you got together with loved ones, you gather around a pine tree…for some…dumb reason I’m sure exists. Okay so there’s like stupid traditions people do for Holidays.” Amanda rambled a little realizing she would have to actually break things down for them to understand. “Everyone has different tradtitions, like some people celebrate Hanukkah and Kwanzaa, which is like Christmas in the sense that they happen around the same time of year. With Christmas you get a tree and decorate it with like blinky lights, and glass decorations, and a big star at the top. Then you put gifts under the tree.” She rambled off quickly. “Are the gifts for the tree?” Martin asked a little quieter than expected, like he was afraid to ask. Which again caushed Amanda to let out a soft laugh. “No, you typically make or buy a person something you think they would like or appriciate. Then you wrap it up so it’s a surprise and you put them under the tree until Christmas and then you open it–hm. ” She started clearing her throat a little which turned into a deeper sounding cough. “And then after you sit with your family and drink warm milk with chocolate and marshmallows  in it.” Her cough started again and without warning the van jolted to a stop. They all looked at Martin in concern. “That cough’s been rattlin’ round for a day and a half now. Now I’m not one for doctors or science men of any kind but I am also not fool 'nough to let a 'silly cold’ as you put it turn into full blown bronchitis or pneumonia. New plan, boys!” He turned in his seat to look into the back of the van. “We take Drummer somewhere warm, indoors and then I say we throw her one Hell of a Holiday party while she rests up?!” Amanda tried to protest but the Rowdy 3 were already revved up, hooting and shaking the van with excitement. Her eyes moved to Martin’s behind his glasses and she gave him a glare with a hint of a smirk in the corner of her lips. “Fine, just don’t go overboard, guys. Seriously.” Again she pulled the coat around her tighter, feeling sweat drop down her neck despite shivering. Amanda knew better than to try to tell the Rowdy 3 to take anything easy. This was going to be interesting.

[sturmazing]

where are your parents?

    Under normal circumstances, she wouldn’t answer things like this. She’d brush them off with a sarcastic remark, or maybe triumphantly fashion herself as some sort of wayward comet. Icy and destructive and unstoppable, with certainly no need for a family. Maybe it was just… Maybe she felt a little despairing, or lost, even. Maybe she’d been thinking a little too hard about him and the future she’d planned. Maybe she just didn’t want to act out and lie anymore. Whichever, whatever the case, Soda dropped her gaze from the asker’s and traced a slow looping pattern on the old oak table in front of her.

    “ I dunno, ”   she answered truthfully, the words fitting quiet and awkward in her mouth.   “ Well… Okay, my dad’s dead. I know that. He died sumtime durin’ the original campaign. I guess he was wit’ my mom ‘til then, but I ain’t got no idea where he’s buried er nuthin’. An’ Mom’s… Well, she’s lost, I guess. See, like… So y’all know I’s homeless before I came t’ Inkopolis. Th’ deal was I got t’ go ‘f I sent back money as I earned battle winnings. More’n that, I went t’… t’ find Axel, my brother, an’ like, get him t’ send money back too. See, I t’ought he was still alive then, ‘spite not hearin’ from ‘im fer like… ”   She had to count on her fingers.   “ …Six years. So that was th’ deal. I got t’ go do this thing Mom an’ Pops really didn’ want me t’ do since it was real dangerous an’ I’d be too far away an’ who knew what kinda shit I’d get into ‘cause I was jus’ that kinda kid. An’ they were right, but… It was a deal. An’ fer a long time I stuck ta it. I joined th’ New Splatoon ‘cause I t’ought I’d get famous an’ I was plannin’ on usin’ my name t’ find Axel. He saw th’ name ‘Lilli Coste’ up in lights, he’d remember me, right? Remember ‘is family? ‘Cause I left Mom an’ Dad in th’ streets. I didn’ have another choice. I stole an’ pickpocketed an’ saved up all th’ beggin’ money I earned fer a ticket ta Inkopolis. Big ol’ jet airliner. This is… real disjoin’ed, sorry…

    But… ”   She drew in a breath, closing her eyes. Or. Eye. It didn’t hurt, surprisingly. The doctor said the nerve endings had been severed, or something — she didn’t know how, but she didn’t care enough anymore, either. Who gave a damn how piercing Octosnipers’ shots were.   “ Yeah. So I was homeless. An’ I did a bunch’a dishonorable stuff t’ buy a plane ticket right t’ th’ heart’a Inkopolis. Stayed wit’ a friend since I hadn’t… Y’know, I hadn’t had a house’n ages, how was I s’posed t’ know? T’ plan that far ahead? An’ I heard ‘bout this secret agent job, forgot all th’ shit Dad told me ‘bout th’ Octarians. Axel was way more important. An’ I neva’ had any real problems wit’ em, so I figured, what’s th’ ‘arm? Dad’s prob’ly jus’ losin’ ‘is shit ova’ nothin’ like usual. ‘Cept… I got busy wit’ it. I didn’ battle so much ‘cause I was always down in Valley an’ too tired when I got out. Resha s’ported us, since I stopped eatin’ a lot an’ th’ like. I wasn’ makin’ ‘nough money t’ send back anyway, an’ Mom didn’ really have a’ddress t’ send it to. So I… I stopped sendin’ it back. I stopped sendin’ letters. An’ th’ last one I got said my dad was dead. Poof. Gone. Not livin’ no more. I’d neva’ see ‘im again.

    I ain’t ‘eard from eitha’ uvv’um since. An’ I neva’ did get credit fer th’ campaign. So I neva’ found Axel, either. ”

    Her hand came to rest on the table, palm flat. All she did was stare at it.

    “ It’s been nine years now. An’ three since I ‘eard from Mom. They’re prob’ly dead.

    “ I— Sorry ya had t’ listen t’ me. I know I ain’t got room t’ complain since I’m fine wit’out ‘em. Whinin’ don’t get ya nowhere. But yeah, I dunno, ”   she mumbled.   “ Sorry I rambled an’ wasted yer time. ”

[thebaileymail]

A fluent, Lominsan accent

(Contains mild sexual stuff!)

“Yer ain’ what ah asked fer!” Exclaimed the Roegadyn captain. Her hoarse roar met the shobby cabin’s wooden walls, which were quivering in fear.

Ryder forced his eyelids closed. He knew what was about to happen. Although expected, the calloused back of the pirate captain’s hand collided with the Midlander’s cheeks, who let out a short cry of a whimper. The same strong hand grabbed Ryder by the scruff of his neck as he lurched back from the force of the blow.

He felt hungry, appraising, angry eyes upon him. Ryder had been dressed in torn rags of soot stains and tiny holes through which rats crawled afore it were used as an article of clothing. The rags were unflattering; they almost resembled the square form of a popoto sack.

“Ah suppose ye’re bene ‘nough. Almost look loik’ a mort, ain’t ye?” The Roegadyn cackled. She bared her teeth as she held the Midlander by his scruff. He was quick to look away, even when the Roegadyn’s other hand briefly pulled back the hem of Ryder’s ragged trousers to peek. A patronising, arrogant grin surfaced upon the Roegadyn’s mien as she readjusted the other’s pants. “Ah’ve ‘ad smaller. Bu’ def’nitely bigger,” she scoffed and let go of the Midlander.

Short, ragged breaths escaped Ryder’s lips as he recoiled from the Roegadyn’s strike. Quivering legs brought him back to a table, from which he carefully picked up an uncorked bottle of spirits. Rum, it looked like; the kind of rum not easily procured in the Lominsan markets.

“Ah brought yer summat, milady,” he shook the bottle. “Rat Poison, ter make yer experience ‘ere all th’more deloighful.” With shaking muscles he approached the Roegadyn, who snatched it from the Midlander’s hand and promptly took a hefty swig. A sigh of relief parted with the pirate captain as the liquid burned its way down her esophagus.

“Come on, then, lil’ whore,” the Roegadyn contentedly grinned and beckoned him over with a crooked, calloused index finger as she sauntered back, and sat upon the cabin’s bed.

“Y-yes, milady,” answered Ryder. Then came the wrinkling of his nose as realisation struck him. With an expectant, quirked brow the Roegadyn took another swig, whilst staring at the Midlander as though he were some piece of meat, ready for the chopping block.

“A-ah, ah mean aye, milady?” Said Ryder with uncertainty.

A brief moment of silence followed

“Urgh, who am I kidding, right?” Asked the Midlander as his shoulders sagged and he breathed out a long, exasperated sigh. “I’ve lived here for, what, four moons or so? And-.. and still I can’t, for the love of Azeyma’s Agonisingly Abysmal Arsehole, speak with a good, fluent, Lominsan accent.”

A loud clash of glass meeting a solid platform screeched through the room as the pirate had dropped her bottle of spirits. The liquid quickly seeped through the floorboards below and likely decorated the floor of the room below them. Pleasure barges appeared to have rooms aplenty anyroad, thought Ryder.

The Roegadyn found her eyelids growing heavier, and she couldn’t quite move many muscles to respond, or strike Ryder, who was nearing her.

“It’s just, and-.. and I really don’t mean to sound racist or anything. It’s just that Lominsans just sound so incredibly unintelligent, you know? I mean, sure, that’s like, a really big generalisation that’s sometimes wrong. But.. how many pirates do you know that speak the common tongue without those annoying incomprehensible pirate-y words thrown into the mix?”

The Roegadyn, whether it was the potion slipped into the rum, or the perpetual rambling of Ryder Bailey, found herself slowly drifting away in a deep slumber.

“Anyroad, I’m not going to hurt you. Like, at all. Even though you’re like, a black market dealer, a murderer, a pirate captain, a misandrist, a slaver and just.. generally a really mean person, you know? ..I’m just going to turn you in to the authorities. -Oh, and don’t worry about that black market deal, I’ve got you covered.”

Ryder was mid-way to making a rude gesture to the Roegadyn with his middle finger when a soft, female voice spoke to him through his linkpearl.

“What?”

“Oh, hey mum.”

“Yeah.. now’s not a great time.”

“Okay, love you, too!”

[cluelessnamelessao3]

But It’s Not Funny

6. I’m Sorry

CW: Anxiety, hangover

You made it out of Grillby’s just fine, but it wasn’t long until you were stumbling as you walked. You definitely had drank too much too quickly.

He had ended up carrying you at some point. He didn’t like to admit how worried he was about you—he’d never really had to deal with a drunk human before, wasn’t it dangerous to drink too much? And you were so small and light and fragile in his hands… were you in danger? Should he be worried?

You were piggy-backed on him, his jacket the perfect cushion—it was easier than trying to get you to walk beside him in the state you were in.

“Hey kiddo, where do ya live? I needa take ya back to your house…”

You giggled, “You took me there just the other day though!”

He sighed, feeling altogether too tired and too worried to deal with this, and deal with you, “You led me there. I don’t know where it is from here.”

You didn’t respond, just tightened your grip around his solid shoulders.

“Fine, you’re staying the night with us… I, uh, I know a shortcut.”

Sans took a sharp left, turning into an alleyway and you felt an odd and fierce sensation grip your body—simultaneously it felt like being stretched out and out and out and pushed in and in and in—before suddenly you were in front of his home.

You were in front of his home and your mind was reeling… but even worse, your stomach was churning uncomfortably. Even in your hazy state you recognized the feeling for what it was.

“Put me do—” you hiccoughed, letting go off Sans and sliding away from him to kneel on the ground. He approached you, gently placing a hand on your back and was about to pick you back up when you vomited.

He sprung back as though stung, “Oh, fuck, uh, Smalls, you okay?”

Your gut was being emptied and he thought the correct question to ask was ‘you okay’? What kind of fucking monster moron thinks that’s the logical next step? Before you could manage what would have been a biting retort, another wave of nausea hit you and you pitched forward, feeling wretched and gross as you threw up.

There was nothing funny about it, but in your embarrassment and discomfort, you felt like laughing. You felt like such a shit show… like such a mess. You were mortified.

“Smalls… uh…” he pulled your hair up and away from your face, as you doubled over once more, “Shit, uh, I didn’t… I should definitely have warned you before taking that short cut. I just didn’t even think about the fact that you were already intoxicated, and the effect of the shortcut would be even more than normal… I mean, even Frisk would get nauseous when I took them… but they never threw up… but uh, I mean, uh, they were never drunk so I guess that makes sense.”

You had no idea what he was talking about, with shortcuts and its effects. You reached behind you to place a quieting hand on his face, he stilled immediately.

“Sorry, are you alright?” His voice was shaking with nerves, and you were in no state to comfort someone—you were in even less of a position to properly articulate the feelings circulating around your head at the moment—so instead, you chose the easy route.

You chose to brush of his concerns with a joke, “I’m just fine and dandy,” you mumble weakly, plucking a lone dandelion from the crack of the sidewalk. He just stared blankly at you.

“Ge’it? It’s ‘cause it’s… a dandelion… a dandy-lion…” you snorted.

He laughed, too, suddenly looking much more comfortable with the situation now that you’d stopped puking everywhere. “I’d be lion if I told you… that was the worst pun I’d ever heard…”

“You make me sick,” you giggled, pushing yourself up and standing. You wobbled a little on your feet but managed to stay up right.

He grimaced more than laughed, “Don’t remind me, smalls.”

“I am not small!” You protested, but he shook it off with a smirk. You frowned, “Also… I-I’m s-sorry…” you gestured toward the mess you’d made.

“It’s fine, it’s in the grass at least, really, I shoulda figured a little thing like you couldn’t hold your liquor.”

You were ready to retort but he hushed you as he led you into the house. Your small voice echoing behind you with a quiet, “I’m hungry, Sans.”

He only responded with a short and resounding “No.”

You whined, he laughed. You fell asleep on their lumpy couch shortly after…

And woke up the next morning, dazed and confused.

You took in your surroundings, unsure of where exactly you were.

The couch wasn’t uncomfortable by any means. If anything, it was probably one of the softest and biggest couches you’d ever had the pleasure to sleep on. The only problems you were having was your raging headache and the intense feeling of dread in your stomach.

You didn’t like drinking—or well, you didn’t like this part of drinking.

But in the moment, there was always something so inviting and intoxicating about being intoxicated. Then, after the fact, you were left wondering if you’d made a fool of yourself, if you’d gotten sick, if you’d done something you would regret.

You felt anxious.

You felt more than anxious—you felt panicked.

The more rational side of you muttered quiet little reassurances, but the bigger, more irrational, and anxious side of you screamed that you’d fucked up. That you’d made a mistake. That you’d ruined your own life again. That you were an alcoholic with no control over anything.

And the more your anxiety spoke to you, the more you believed it. The more you told yourself these things, the more you believed them—despite there being no proof, no evidence, nothing to tell you these harmful thoughts were true.

Your heart was racing, and you sat up in your makeshift bed.

Yesterday was fuzzy, you had flashes and snatches of memory. You remembered Doggo, you remembered Grillby teasing you, you remembered meeting Sans at one point. You didn’t remember leaving the bar. You didn’t remember if you went home or not. You didn’t remember how you got here. Wherever here was…

You felt like you’d made some mistake but couldn’t even remember enough to identify what the mistake was.

You hated that you always felt so anxious after drinking.

You hated that despite the anxiety-hangover you still drank too much sometimes.

You hated that you were in this house and couldn’t remember how you got here.

The blanket suddenly wasn’t enough, and you felt exposed. You felt like you were being watched. You felt—

“You’re finally up? Gee, kid, and Paps calls me a lazy bones.” The voice startled you from your thoughts and you gave the only reasonable and logical reaction—because you were nothing if not a reasonable and logical person.

You screamed.

Sans didn’t scream, though he did look quite alarmed.

You blinked and slapped a hand over your mouth.  

“I’m sorry, I don’t even know where I am, but I mean like, this is probably your house. I mean, that’s the obvious answer, and if it is, I’m, like, sorry. Uh, I shouldn’t have screamed, you just came out of nowhere, I just don’t really know. I got startled. I’m sorry, I’ll try not to scream in people’s houses in the future because that’s probably rude or something…” You tried to say a hundred things at once, and it all came out in a jumbled mess. You could tell by the smirk on his face that none of what you’d just mumbled out made sense.

In an attempt to save grace, you gestured at the couch, “Nice, er, couch.”

He snorted.

You tried again, “Is this your house?”

He nodded, the wide grin on his face looking more and more smug by the minute.

“It’s, uh, nice, too.”

The lights of his eyes danced with amusement.

“So, uhm, where’s Papyrus?”

He shrugged, “At work,” he offered.

You nodded, coughing awkwardly, “Well, hoo, uhm, okay. That’s, uh, cool. Where does he work?”

At this Sans actually laughed, and you hide your face with yours hands, your cheeks flushed with embarrassment. This had been, by far, your most cringe worthy encounter with Sans.

“He works at a nearby restaurant,” he replied simply, not commenting on your awkwardness.

“That’s cool…”

“Yup.”

You sighed, “So, I… I’m sorry.”

“For what,” he asked.

You blinked with confusion. Wasn’t it obvious?

“I’m, uh, sorry for, like, getting scared. And, uh, crashing on your couch, and being here and in your way and stuff like that—uh, I mean, like, sorry for just like being.” You cut yourself off before you began to ramble again.

“It’s fine, Smalls…” He neglected to mention the fact that you threw up, or that he spent half the day and night worrying himself sick over you. No, he’d never bring himself to say any of that—especially not that he was worried… especially not that he was afraid for you.

He was going to say more, ask if you wanted to go out to eat or something, but the tiredness in your eyes, the slight furrow in your brows, and the way you sat—curled in on yourself as though you could make yourself small enough to disappear—made him hesitate.

You didn’t really seem like you would want to go anywhere.

“Well, uh, I can get out of your hair now, if… you… want…” you offered, noticing his slight pause and hoping to diminish his discomfort.

“I don’t even have hair, but nah, you’re not rattlin’ my bones…” his smiled turned from a smirk into something more genuine, something a little bit more kind, and you nervously smiled back, “I imagine you don’t feel so hot right now, so how ‘bout we take a minute to cool off, and uh, I’ll make you something small to eat, how’s that?”

You felt a sudden flush of affection for his awkwardness.

“Something small for the something small?” You asked cheekily.

“Thought ya didn’t like bein’ called small,” he chuckled.

“Yeah, well, it seems like it’s a name that’s gonna stick, so why not just accept it.”

“Fair ‘nough.”