#also they had this really awesome zip up hoodie that I was staring at for ages

[burningcomputerpersona]

also how is it that spanish love songs has such good merch??? i don't think I've ever been to a show before where I had to struggle so hard to pick just one thing, like in a lot of cases there's only really one thing that appeals to me or I just get something bc i love the band and need to have them on me regardless of what the design looks like. but i was spending ages just staring at the merch stand trying to pick one out of alllll the things i wanted

[kelcemenow]

Win Or Lose. - Chapter 1.

Pairing Travis Kelce x Reader

Words 1084

Warnings Smutty mentions, strong language and pregnancy themes.

This was a very detailed Anon request that I received and knew I had to give it a go! (I'll not paste the whole request here as I usually do, as it was rather long but if you want to read it, it's here. Be warned, it's rather full of spoilers!) Also, as I'm writing this note, I have a sneaky suspicion that this will end up as a series.

CHAPTER 1

"Travis Michael Kelce, will you stop blaming yourself."

Travis stood up from the edge of the bed where he had been sat. He zipped up his hoodie a little bit more and took a couple of steps closer to you.

"Do we maybe need to go and see someone? Maybe there's something wrong with me...or you. Or both of us?" His eyebrows were peaked with worry.

You tilted your head to the side, "Baby, there's nothing wrong with either of us. It's not always instant, these things can take time." You cupped his face with both of your hands, "You need to relax, stop putting pressure on yourself."

He nodded quietly.

"Maybe...we should wait until the season is over?"

Travis held your waist, tenderly, "I don't want to wait. I want to make a baby with you, now. I want us to be parents and I want to see you be the best Mom in the world."

"And we will, but I can't see you beat yourself up every time I tell you I've had a negative test." You stroked the back of his head.

Travis let out a long sigh, smiling meekly, "Okay, I'll try to relax. I just want it so badly."

"And you're not used to not getting what you want?" You raised an eyebrow.

Travis lowered his head and breathed a laugh, "Alright, you can cut that out. How about I make dinner while you take a bubble bath?"

You kissed his lips gently, "Sounds perfect."

______________________________________________________________

Travis' final few grunts sounded out into the room, dimly lit by a large lamp in a corner. His body stiffened and his arms were wrapped around you tightly as he came inside of you, his hips snapping roughly. As he took a few deep breathes, he looked down at you with loving eyes, kissing your lips softly.

You stayed silent for a few moments, staring up at your handsome husband, letting your breathing return to a normal pace. Travis remained inside of you for some time, attempting anything to help increase your chances of conception, quietly kissing your cheek and tracing circles on your shoulder with his thumb.

"You're going to be an awesome Mom." He cooed.

You smiled, "And you're going to be the best Dad in the world."

"Our kids will be the luckiest."

You raised your eyebrows, "Kids? Plural? How many kids do you want?"

Travis rested the side of his head against his hand which was propped up by his elbow, "I don't know. 3...maybe 4? Why, how many do you want?"

You bit down on your bottom lip, "I'm not sure. I've never really thought about it. One might be more than enough!" You laughed.

Travis lifted his chin and laid a kiss on your forehead, "Okay, how does pancakes for breakfast?"

"That sounds amazing."

"Sweet. You do what you need to do, baby, and your breakfast will be waiting for you downstairs."

You smiled and received another kiss before watching Travis' naked ass walk away towards the bathroom. Travis was the most attentive husband that you could wish for, always caring for you, cooking beautiful meals and treating you as his Queen.

It killed you to see him so disappointed and upset with not being able to fall pregnant and worse, beating himself up about it. You felt a pang of guilt as you had been constantly reassuring him that there was nothing to worry about but deep down, you were concerned. You had been actively trying for 5 months with no success, and although you were beginning to panic that there was something wrong with either of you, you had to be the calm and rational half of the marriage to keep Travis from completely spiralling. He was almost a third of the way through his football season and he needed to focus and stay grounded.

Luckily, you had plans with Travis' teammate Chris Jones and his wife Sheawna for dinner so you were hoping that it would keep his mind away from your conception issues. But as you were both getting ready, Travis started to worry again.

"Y/N, do you think we'll ever have a baby?" He said as he ran some beard oil through over his chin.

You turned away from the mirror and lowered your head to him, "Wishing and worrying won't make it happen, you know that. If it's meant to be, it's meant to be"

Travis' lips turned down into a pout and he opened his mouth to speak but you stood up from your chair and took some steps towards him.

"And if it's not, there are other options."

You paused to study his expression. His eyebrows lowered, his eyes staring down at his feet, his mouth neutral.

"Baby, you need to stop stressing about it. It's not good for you, you need to keep your head in the game, literally."

He nodded slowly, reaching out for you, "You're right."

You proceeded into his strong arms, allowing them to loosely drape around your lower back, "Of course I'm right, I'm your wife."

______________________________________________________________

Your fingers gripped onto the side of the roll-top bath and your eyes focused on the intricate patterns on the frame of the mirror straight ahead of you. The only sound was Travis' feet pacing the tiled floor.

"Will you sit down?" You whispered.

Travis smiled, "I can't stay still, I'm so nervous."

You shook your head, "I'm never letting you do this with me again."

"Well, hopefully this is the last time we need to do this."

You tensed slightly, "Don't put pressure on us, Travis. I know you're excited but-"

He stood in front of you and cupped your cheeks, "Positive thinking, baby. I'm manifesting. I saw this video on Instagram-"

Travis was interrupted by the beeping of your phone alarm that you had set to signal when the test was ready to read. Your head snapped to the left, eyes glaring at the phone.

"Does that mean it's done?"

You looked back to Travis, "Yeah. Do you want to look at it?"

He took a deep breath and nodded, his hands slowly removing themselves from your face. You watched as he reached across and picked up the blue and white plastic stick, holding it at his waist. Travis closed his eyes for a few seconds before lifting the test to his face, his eyebrows lowering slightly.

You struggled to read his expression, your chest heaving with nervous breaths, "Travis?"

His mouth dropped open a little and his eyes widened, "Oh, shit."

______________________________________________________________

So, I was right. I'd rather get this one out as a series. Especially as it is such a detailed and complex request, I want to make sure I get it right. I hope this first chapter has whetted your appetite for more! I'm so pleased that my Taglist is growing and so many of you want to read Kelce fics! I'll be doing another shoutout at some point to see if anyone else wants to be added, so let me know!

Taglist @rd14 @dandelionwrites8 @keiva1000 @fantasywritersstuff @caelipartem @anacarangel @she-lives-in-her-dreams @kkrenae @kristencochefski1125 @countrygirl120983 @killatravtramp @charmed2000 @nouis-bum @cixrosie @delicateearthquakellama @wordsaresimple-imnot @amylouwho9 @queenisa17 @talicat713 @luvvtrent @purecinnamonextract @savaneafricaine @caelipartem @beyxgrande @caitdaniels @ezgirl1108 @vir-tual @lightsoutstyles @macey234 @s294749w @luvvtrent @kelcemesoftly

[rancidpancakebatter]

Drop In-Chapter 7 [P.P.]

Pairings: Peter Parker x AFAB Reader

Summary: You like Peter, and Peter likes you. This should be simple, so why isn’t it? Well, maybe it’s because you were already friends? Maybe it’s the stress of senior year? Maybe it’s because someone had to get bit by a spider? Who’s to say?

Word Count: 3.2k words

Content: MINORS DNI: 18+ Swearing, Marijana Use, Underage Drinking, Bullying, Anxiety, Depression,

Some negative body image in this chapter and pretty early on. I’m really tapping into the insecure teen years with this story. 

( Previous | Chapter List | Next )

A/N: Homecoming is happening! Football and Mayhem and Peter

Bit of a filler, because it’s gonna get sad and stressful.

also it's midterms and I'm exhausted so I'm sorry but this is very unedited and kinda...dry? I dunno but it's the best I have rn

You looked over your bed, where you had spread out all of your gear and clothes, forming a battle plan and double-checking you had everything you needed. First was the game. You had agreed that Peter would take pictures of the cheerleaders, the band, and the crowd, the atmosphere if you will, because his film camera- while wonderful- has its limitations.

You would be in charge of capturing the gameplay, equipped with a year-old DSLR model and a long lens. You repacked your bag, double-checking the batteries’ life and that the sd cards were empty. You made sure to pack a few lens wipes as well as the microfiber cloth, just in case. 

Once that was settled, you looked over the outfit you had picked out. You wouldn’t have much time to get ready between the dance and the game, so you wanted to make sure you were still available for a quick change.

You had picked some tight-fitting jeans and a tucked t-shirt. It’s pretty plain, a tight-fitting shirt with cold and navy blue stripes. You had dug around for hours trying to find something with school colours on it, and this would just have to do. The outfit was laid out across your cotton sheets, and beside them was a green bomber jacket. Beneath it lay a grey zip-up hoodie that wasn’t yours. 

As you looked at it your stomach started to knot. It carried a lot in its empty pockets. Memories of butterflies, and hope, and something you refused to label as love were woven into its worn threads. You had been balancing a tightrope between nonchalance and a Chornobyl-sized meltdown for the past few days. You couldn’t tell if wearing Peter’s jacket would hold you up or shove you into the jagged rocks below. 

You decided that was a problem for later and instead made sure your dress and accessories were all good and accounted for. You had picked out some tall wedges to go with it. 

You pulled a deep, centring breath through your body and stepped into your bathroom. Perched on the counter, you began to apply your base makeup. You didn’t go all out just yet, that was for the dance, but you wanted to cut down on things to do later. You applied your base and went with a simple smudged eyeliner look accompanied by thick mascara. You were applying highlight when your father knocked on your door. You beckoned him in, and he sat on the tub, his unofficial seat for these moments. 

“Are you excited?” 

His smile was warm and genuine. You beamed at him through the reflection. 

“I’m kinda nervous but also really excited.”

He chuckled at your response, remembering his own teenage woes of old. 

“Today, school was awesome. Classes were pretty laid back, and then the Pep rally was tons of fun. I sat next to Pete, and we just made jokes. At one point, we narrated what we thought the players were thinking as they stood behind the principal. They all had these dead stares as Mr Braxton rambled on for like ten minutes. It was so fun.”

There was a tension in your father’s shoulders that he didn’t know he held, but he felt it leave as you told him about your day. It had been so long since he had seen you so animated. You were excited, and he was excited for you. 

“And I know the game is gonna be just as fun. I mean, don’t get me wrong, we suck. Like seriously, I don’t know how our team still gets funding; we are so bad. But Pete and I are gonna take pictures and goof off in the stands. Also, I was promised kettle corn and you know I love kettle corn. I’m gonna fuck that up.”

That earned a very loud laugh from your father. 

“Yes, you will. I know better than to ask but would you save me some?”

You chuckled at the request. “How about I get you a bag and bring it home?”

You both agreed on the compromise, and he continued to watch you do your makeup, occasionally bobbing his head to the music you were playing. You were dousing your face with setting spray when your phone started vibrating on the counter. 

Your father answered it at your request. 

“Hey, Peter! You're on speaker with me and (Y/n),”

“Hello, Mr (Y/n). Hey, (Y/n).”

You said hello back and he immediately started going into his spiel.

“So I was wondering when you wanted to leave. I know you said you wanted to leave at six but what about dinner? Would you wanna go before or after the game? Or not at all? Also, May wants to take pictures of us, but I know I’m coming over to you for the dance. Could she come with? Ben was probably going to drop me off, but they could both come, and then May could get some pictures. If not, I think I could hold her over if your dad promised to take some and send them to her.”

His nervous rambles brought a smile to your face. It reminded you of the way he was before. When he would blush at your kind words and affections. You looked to your dad, knowing he was the only one who might care. 

“Mr Parker, you know your family is welcome whenever. I’ll call Ms May and get that all straightened out.”

Your father left the bathroom, and you heard his jovial voice as he went into the hallway. It made you laugh. 

You stayed on the phone with Peter for a bit while you got dressed, reviewing the plan once again. You decided to stop and get a sandwich on the way. There was a bodega nearby that Peter absolutely loved, and you agreed to go. It was cheaper and quicker than some fancy sit-down meal. And it was special. Something for you and Peter. The thought made you feel warm inside. 

You were recessed and ready and running to the car. You were buzzing with excitement. It’s true that Peter and you had been a little rocky lately, but you couldn’t help but feel like maybe it was turning around. The way he had treated you this week (for the most part) has been amazing. When you think about it, most of the things Peter did to upset you weren’t on purpose. Sometimes he was just such a boy. But he had been sweet anytime he realized you were upset. As soon as he recognised that, he was sweet and caring and careful. He was attentive and kind. 

There was a fluttering of hope that lived in your ribs. It told you that things were changing. That yeah, there was that weird patch, but you were coming out on the other side. You were seeing Peter again, your friend, and you had missed him. Today you felt like you were floating on cloud nine. He talked to you in class; he included you in the conversations with his friends. He was happy and smiling all day long with you. 

You turned over the engine and switched out the CDs. You wanted the songs that orchestrated your summer. Songs that reminded you of those carefree days and the golden sun. The weather was getting colder, yes, but maybe you could make the warmth stick around just a little longer. You could hold on just a little longer. 

The game is very uneventful. So far, you’re thirty minutes from halftime, and there have been three touchdowns. Unfortunately, the Midtown Panthers couldn’t claim any of them. Peter and you had split up for a bit to get some pictures, and now you were back in the student section. Several of your peers were losing their minds, cheering anytime your team gained more ground on the field. It all felt a little silly to you, but you cheered along with them. The shouting was fun. A release of chaotic energy that you didn’t get often. 

Peter was hesitant, but you eventually convinced him to join in. You moved your arms with the cheerleaders and butchered their chants. You could see Sabrina Dontelle roll her eyes every time you messed it up, but that only encouraged you more. Peter’s laughter and smile was more than enough validation in your actions. His smile was bright, and you were basking in it.

You made your way through the throng of teens, pushing your way towards the field. The “halftime show” was starting, and you both took pictures of the Marching band. The flags looked majestic as they fluttered in the wind, and the careful weaving of your peers while juggling heavy instruments was mesmerising. Then the homecoming court emerged. 

A stage was wheeled onto the field, and the principal stood at the podium. He went on and on about how this event was an honourable, celebrated event, about the history of your school and your team. He was optimistic about the end of this game. The crowd erupted into cheers as the homecoming court came out from the same tunnel the team had before. You recognised most faces as they passed, three pairs from each grade. Elaborate dresses and illustrated smiles made their way down the field, accompanied by tailored suits and gelled hair.

You found yourself fiddling with your shirt, adjusting your top and jacket. Especially when you saw Gwen. She wasn’t on the court but helping, passing out tairas as the person beside her passed out sashes. She wore a beautiful dress, soft white lace over a pale blue tea cut dress. Her make-up was subtle but worked, big eyes with bright lips and matching blush. She looked regal and divine. 

She must have sensed your stare. She turned to look at you and Peter, and her smile was grand. You watched as her hand raised slightly and wiggled her fingers with enthusiasm. Peter waved back, and you felt your throat tighten ever so slightly. She makes a gesture with her pointer finger and a thumbs up. You look at her confused, and she tries to hide a laugh. She does it again, and you realize she’s talking to you. 

“I like your top,” She mouths again. 

You smile and try to tell her that you like her dress, but she’s just as confused. You can’t help the laugh that bubbles up, but luckily from your placement on the field, no one who might get offended by your inappropriate tittering notices. You hear a shutter and turn next to you to see Peter lowering his camera, a dusting of pink across his cheeks. 

You go to reprimand him, but his smile eats your words. When he’s looking at you like that, how could you be mad? All boyish charm and crinkled eyes. You make a face at him, and before you can even process, there’s a flash and the shutter once again. Peter only chuckles at your shock as you swat at his arm. 

This starts a candid war that goes on for the rest of the game. You both make your way up to the stage to take pictures of everyone. You split up the work to get it done quicker. You’ve finished the last one and notice Peter is still working. Sarah Macnimera is being picky about her pose and insisting Peter get a “good one.” Her glorified boy toy hung loosely on her arm, giving her passive reassurance that she looked great. Pete is getting frustrated, and you raise your camera in preparation.

He turns to make a face at you. His eyes are captured mid-roll, only the whites visible. His tongue lulled forward just a bit, as his face fell “dead.” You had forever immortalized his classic eye roll, fake gag combo that you called the “Kill me” look. You look at the preview screen and make a mental note to upload it later. 

After the homecoming event is over you make your way to the kettle corn stand. The line isn’t very long and you’re bouncing with excitement. Peter teases you for your childlike glee. 

“It’s just kettle corn,” He says in amused disbelief.

“Peter Parker,” You begin, “There is no such thing as ‘just kettle corn.’ Kettle corn is a gift, the best thing to come out of colonization. It is the perfect amount of sweetness- and when fresh, it’s warm. Do you understand? It’s the best food! Only the Boy Scouts can rival what is happening in this tent.”

When you reach the counter to order, you request three large bags. Peter looks at you like you’re insane, but you pay him no mind. Each bag is about as long as your arm and wider than your fists. Truly carnival sized. You try to juggle them, telling Peter you’re putting two in the car for later. You can barely see over them. Pete takes another photo of you, and you have to say you’re a little curious as to how that one turns out. 

On your way back to the game, you're splitting a bag with Peter. Each kernel melts on your tongue, and Peter agrees with you that it’s very good. Sugar hangs from his lips, and you find yourself having to look away. Even with the chill of autumn hanging in the air, being beside Peter today has made you feel warmer than ever before. You had been starved of Peter Parker, but here he was, filling you up once again. Your heart felt full and light. 

 You’ve made your way back into the “field.” The concessions lines were long, and your beloved tent was well in view from this side of the bleachers. You could hear the announcers in their box high above calling out the plays as they came. Many people were making their way to the exit, only caring about the court ceremony. As people pushed and shoved, you almost lost Peter in the crowd until you felt his hold on your arm. His big hands wrapped around your forearm and brought you closer to his person. 

He noticed the way your shoulders had risen and how you had pulled into yourself ever so slightly. Now that you had opened up to him about your anxiety, and that crowds tend to make it worse, he’s been keeping an eye on you.

He had never seen you so broken before. You looked so small, so defeated, when he found you on the bathroom floor. He never wanted to see that again. He had made a vow. He would do everything he could to keep you from going into that state again. 

“Are you okay?”

You nodded your head and he let out a breath he didn’t realise he was holding. He threw his arm around your shoulder and reached across you to get some popcorn. You were discussing what other pictures you two should take- if any- while munching on your sweet treat when you hear Peter’s name called out. 

You looked up at the source and you couldn’t believe your eyes. Miles Moralize, who had become your group’s mascot in a way, had scaled up the fencing on the bleachers. His bright red hoodie was obvious against the rattling silver metal. But in case you didn’t see him, he was also waving his arm dramatically as if waving off a ship in the nineteen twenties. All he needed was a handkerchief. 

Peter waved back and pointed his finger very aggressively at Miles and then at the ground. You couldn’t help but chuckle, then laugh when Peter looked at you with confusion. 

“What’s so funny?” He asked with his brows still furrowed. 

You tried your best to reign in your laughter, “You- you look like May.”

He feigned anger, but his smile overshadowed any attempt at malice in his glare. He lead you over to where Miles was, where you found the rest of the group. Micheal and Nicholas were talking to Miles as he climbed down, guiding his feet and teasing him about how ridiculous he was. Silas wore a tired expression that only lifted once his gaze fell upon the two of you. 

“Oh, thank God! I swear, I’ve aged five years trying to keep these idiots alive for the last half hour.”

He wrapped his arms dramatically around you both, with his toes barely touching the ground, as he all but collapsed. You and Peter both chuckled, offering your condolences and commending him for his bravery. You offered him popcorn, and he was delighted to take some. 

“Thanks! I was trying to get everyone over so I could get some, but they got distracted. This kettle corn is so good. I’ve been looking forward to it all year.”

You declared that Silas could have as much as he wanted because he was the only person appreciative of your scrumptious snack. He cheered as Peter began to defend himself, but then Mile’s feet hit the ground and everyone rushed over. 

“Hey, hey, hey,” Nicholas said as he sauntered up to where you were talking to Silas, everyone else in tow, “Gang’s all here.”

You and Peter both greeted him and he immediately burst into a fit of giggles. You looked at each other sceptically, as if silently discussing the clues to this mystery. As if you couldn’t already figure it out between his spacey approach and his glazed gaze, Nick pulls a battered, half-eaten, rice-crispy treat out of his pocket. You clock the almost “caramel” colour to it and quickly piece it together. 

He takes a bite before offering it to you and Peter. 

He chuckles when you both decline, “Oh please, you’re not fooling anyone. Parker here definitely smokes,”

Miles smacks his arm, telling him to keep it down, but Nick ignores him, “And dudette here definitely smokes with him.” 

Peter shakes his head and you can feel his breath across your neck from his proximity.

“Nick, dude. I told you we could, next Wednesday. But I’m not gonna now because then I’ll miss the dance. There’s no way you’re getting in there without raising suspicion.”

Nicholas only takes another bite. Defiance drives his every movement. Although, you’re a little lost on who he’s proving wrong.

“Fuck the dance!” He exclaims around a mouthful of sugar and weed, “Who gives a fuck about the dance? You should come back with us after the game. We’re gonna get high and watch all the Lord of the Rings tonight. That’s so much more fun!”

Your smile is growing more and more forced. While you do enjoy these boys, this is not what you wanted right now. Watching LOTR high did sound like a fun evening, but it didn’t sound even remotely more appealing than dancing with Peter. 

Still tucked under his arm, it’s hard to hide from him. You obviously don’t want Peter to pick the movie night, but you also don’t want to force him to go to the dance. You wish you could get a read on him. One minute he’s suggesting you go; the next he’s acting like he never wanted to. It’s all very confusing. 

“Hmmm,” Peter says, “I dunno. We’ve been planning these matching outfits and everything. It would be a shame not to go.” 

Only Nick sounded annoyed by his answer, and for that you were grateful. You felt a tugging and realised that Pete was turning you both around. He dipped his head down, knocking your head lightly to catch your attention. 

“Hey, are you okay?”

You tightened up your smile, making it bigger. “Yeah, I’m glad we’re still going to the dance.”

You feel his fingers run across your shoulder, and the movement is comforting, “Yeah, of course.”

You looked over your bed where you had spread out all of your gear and clothes, forming a battle plan and double-checking you had everything you needed. First, was the game. You had agreed that Peter would take pictures of the cheerleaders, the band, and the crowd, the atmosphere if you will, because his film camera- while wonderful- has limitations. You would be in charge of capturing the gameplay, equipped with a year-old DSLR model and a long lens. You repacked your bag, double-checking the batteries’ life and that the sd cards were empty. You made sure to pack a few lens wipes as well as the microfiber cloth, just in case. 

Once that was settled you looked over the outfit you had picked out. You wouldn’t have much time to get ready between the dance and the game so you wanted to make sure you were still available for a quick change. You had picked some tight-fitting jeans and a tucked t-shirt. It’s pretty plain, a tight-fitting shirt with cold and navy blue stripes. You had dug around for hours trying to find something with school colours on it, and this would just have to do. The outfit was laid out across your cotton sheets, and beside them was a green bomber jacket. Beneath it lay a grey zip-up hoodie that wasn’t yours. 

As you looked at it your stomach started to knot. It carried a lot in its empty pockets. Memories of butterflies and hope and something you refused to label as love were woven into its worn threads. You had been balancing a tightrope between nonchalance and a Chornobyl-sized meltdown for the past few days. You couldn’t tell if wearing Peter’s jacket would hold you up or shove you into the jagged rocks below. 

You decided that was a problem for later and instead made sure your dress and accessories were all good and accounted for. You had picked out some tall wedges to go with them. 

[maybe describe the dress or sum]

You pulled a deep, centring, breath through your body and stepped into your bathroom. Perched on the counter you began to apply your base makeup. You didn’t go all out just yet, that was for the dance, but you wanted to cut down on things to do later. You applied your base and went with a simple smudged eyeliner look accompanied by thick mascara. You were applying highlight when your father knocked on your door. You beckoned him in and he sat on the tub, his unofficial seat for these moments. 

“Are you excited?” 

His smile was warm and genuine. You beamed at him through the reflection. 

“I’m kinda nervous but also really excited.”

He chuckled at your response, remembering his teenage woes of old. 

“Today, school was awesome. Classes were pretty laid back and then the Pep rally was tons of fun. I sat next to Pete and we just made jokes. At one point we narrated the team’s thoughts as they stood behind the principal. They all had these dead stares as Mr Braxton rambled on for like ten minutes. It was so fun.”

There was a tension in your father’s shoulders that he didn’t know he held, but he felt it leave as you told him about your day. It had been so long since he had seen you so animated. You were excited and he was excited for you. 

“And I know the game is gonna be just as fun. I mean, don’t get me wrong, we suck. Like seriously, I don’t know how our team still gets funding we are so bad. But Pete and I are gonna take pictures and goof off in the stands. Also, I was promised kettle corn and you know I love kettle corn. I’m gonna fuck that up.”

That earned a very loud laugh from your father. 

“Yes, you will. I know better than to ask but would you save me some?”

You chuckled at the request. “How about I get you a bag and bring it home?”

You both agreed on the compromise and he continued to watch you do your makeup, occasionally bobbing his head to the music you were playing. You were dousing your face with setting spray when your phone started vibrating on the counter. 

Your father answered it at your request. 

“Hey, Peter! You're on speaker with me and (Y/n),”

“Hello, Mr (Y/n). Hey, (Y/n).”

You said hello back and he immediately started going into his spiel.

“So I was wondering when you wanted to leave. I know you said you wanted to leave at six but what about dinner? Would you wanna go before or after the game? Or not at all? Also, May wants to take pictures of us but I know I’m coming over to you for the dance. Could she come with? Ben was probably going to drop me off but they could both come and then May could get some pictures. If not I think I could hold her over if your dad promised to take some and send them to her.”

His nervous rambles brought a smile to your face. It reminded you of the way he was before. When he would blush at your kind words and affections. You looked to your dad knowing he was the only one who might care. 

“Mr Parker, you know your family is welcome whenever. I’ll call Ms May and get that all straightened out.”

Your father left the bathroom and you heard his jovial voice as he went into the hallway. It made you laugh. 

You stayed on the phone with Peter for a bit while you got dressed, reviewing the plan once again. You decided to stop and get a sandwich on the way. There was a bodega nearby that Peter absolutely loved, and you agreed to go. It was cheaper and quicker than some fancy sit-down meal. And it was special. Something for you and Peter. The thought made you feel warm inside. 

You were recessed and ready and running to the car. You were buzzing with excitement. It’s true, that Peter and you had been a little rocky lately, but you couldn’t help but feel like maybe it was turning around. The way he had treated you this week (for the most part) has been amazing. When you think about it, most of the things Peter did to upset you weren’t on purpose. Sometimes he was just such a boy. But he had been sweet anytime he realized you were upset. As soon as he recognised that he was sweet and caring and careful. He was attentive and kind. 

There was a fluttering of hope that lived in your ribs. It told you that things were changing. That yeah, there was that weird patch, but you were coming out on the other side. You were seeing Peter again, your friend, and you had missed him. Today you felt like you were floating on cloud nine. He talked to you in class, he included you in the conversations with his friends. He was happy and smiling all day long with you. 

You turned over the engine and switched out the CDs. You wanted the songs that [souttracked] your summer. Songs that reminded you of those carefree days and the golden sun. The weather was getting colder it’s true, but maybe you could make the warmth stick around just a little longer. You could hold on just a little longer. 

The game is very uneventful. So far, you’re thirty minutes from Halftime and there have been three touchdowns. Unfortunately, the Midtown Panthers couldn’t claim any of them. Peter and you had split up for a bit to get some pictures and now you were back in the student section. Several of your peers were losing their minds, cheering anytime your team gained more ground on the field. It all felt a little silly to you but you cheered along with them. The shouting was fun. A release of chaotic energy that you didn’t get often. 

Peter was hesitant but you eventually convinced him to join in. You moved your arms with the cheerleaders and butchered their chants. You could see Sabrina Dontelle roll her eyes every time you messed it up, but that only encouraged you more. Peter’s laughter and smile was more than enough validation in your actions. His smile was bright and you were basking in it.

You made your way through the throng of teens, pushing your way towards the field. The “halftime show” was starting and you both took pictures of the Marching band. The flags looked majestic as they fluttered in the wind, and the careful weaving was meserizing. Then the homecoming court emerged. 

A stage was wheeled onto the field and the principal stood at the podium. He went on and on about how this event was an honourable, celebrated event. About the history of your school and your team. He was optimistic about the end of this game. The crowd erupted into cheers as the homecoming court came out from the same tunnel the team had before. You recognised most faces as they passed, three from each grade. Elaborate dresses and illustrated smiles made their way down the field, accompanied by tailored suits and gelled hair. You found yourself fiddling with your shirt, adjusting your top and jacket. Especially when you saw Gwen. She wasn’t on the court but helping, passing out tairas as the person beside passed out sashes. She wore a beautiful dress, soft white lace over a pale blue tea cut dress. Her make-up was subtle but worked, big eyes with bright lips and matching blush. She looked regal and divine. 

She must have sensed your stare. She turned to look at you and Peter, and her smile was grand. You watched as her hand raised sight and she shook it back and forth with enthusiasm. Peter waved back and you felt your throat tighten, ever so slightly. She makes a gesture with her pointer finger and a thumbs up. You look at her confused and she tries to hide a laugh. She does it again and you realize she’s talking to you. 

“I like your top,” She mouths again. 

You smile and try to tell her that you like her dress but she’s just as confused. You can’t help the laugh that bubbles up, but luckily from your placement on the field, no one who might get offended by your inappropriate tittering notices. You hear a shutter and turn next to you to see Peter lowering his camera, a dusting of pink across his cheeks. 

You go to reprimand him but his smile eats your words. When he’s looking at you how could you be mad? All boyish charm and scrinckled eyes. You make a face at him and before you can even process, there’s a flash and the shutter once again. Peter only chuckles at your shock as you swat at him arm. 

This starts a candid war that goes on for the rest of the game. You both make your way up to the stage to take pictures of everyone. You split up the work to get it done quicker. You’ve finished the last one and notice Peter is still working. Sarah Macnimera is being picky about her pose and insisting Peter get a “good one.” Her glorified boytoy, hung loosely on her arm, giving her passive reassurances that she looked great. You raise your camera just in time to catch Peter making a face at you. 

His eyes are captured mid roll, only the whites visible. His tongue lulled forward just a bit, as his face fell “dead.” You had forever imortalized his classic eye roll, fake gag combo that you called the “Kill me” look. You look at the preview screen and make a mental note to uplaod it later. 

After the homecoming event is over you make your way to the kettle corn stand. The line isn’t very long and You’re bouncing with excitement. Peter teases you for your childlike glee. 

“It’s just kettle corn,” He says in amused disbelief

“Peter Parker,” You begin, “There is no such thing as ‘just kettle corn.’ Kettle corn is gift, the best thing to come out of colonization. It is the perfect amount of sweet and when fresh it’s warm. Do you understand? It’s the best food! Only the Boy Scout’s can rival what is happening in this tent.”

When you get up to the counter to order you request three large bags. Peter looks at you like you’re insane but you pay him no mind. Each bag is about as long as your arm and wider than two of your fists. Truly carnival sized. You try to juggle them, telling Peter you’re putting two in the car for later. You can barley see over them. Pete takes another photo of you and you have to say you’re a little curious as to how that one turns out. 

On your way back to the game your splitting a bag with Peter. Each kernel melts on your tongue and Peter agrees with you that it’s very good. Sugar hangs from his lips and you find yourself having to look away. Even with the chill of autum hanging in the air, being beside Peter today has made you feel warmer than ever before. You had been starved of Peter Parker, but here he was, filling you up once again. Your heart felt full and light. 

 You’ve made your way back into the “field”. The concesions lines were long and your beloved tent was in well in view from this side of the bleachers. You could hear the announcers in their box high above calling out the plays as they came. Many people were making their way to the exit, only caring about the court ceremony. As people pushed and shoved you almost lost Peter in the crowd, until you felt his hold on your arm. His big hands wrapped around your forearm and brought you closer to his person. 

He noticed the way your shoulders had risen and how you had pulled into yourself ever so slightly. Now that you had opened up to him about your anxiety and that crowds tend to make it worse, he’s been keeping an eye on you. He had never seen you so broken before. You looked so small, so defeated, when he found you on the bathroom floor. He never wanted to see that again. He had made a vow. He would do everything he could to keep you from going into that state again. 

“Are you okay?”

You nodded your head and he let out a breath he didn’t realise he was holding. He threw his arm around your shoulder and reached across you to get some popcorn. You were discussing what other pictures you two should take, if any, while munching on you sweet treat when you hear Peter’s name called out. 

You look up to the source and you couldn’t believe your eyes. Miles Moralize, who had become your group’s mascot in a way, had scaled up the fencing on the bleachers. His bright red hoodie was obvious against the rattling metal. But incase you didn’t see him, he was also waving his arm dramatically, as if waving off a ship in the nineteen twenties. All he needed was a handkerchief. 

Peter waved back and pointed his finger very aggressively at Miles and then the ground. You couldn’t help but chuckle and then laugh when Peter looked at you with confusion. 

“What’s so funny?” He asked with his brows still furrowed. 

You tried your best to reign in your laughter, “You- you look like May.”

He friegned anger but his smile overshadowed any attempt at malice in his glare. He lead you over to where Miles was, where you found the rest of the group. Micheal and Nicholas were talking to Miles as he climbed down, guiding his feet and teasing him about how ridiculous he was. Silas wore a tired expression that only lifted once his gaze fell apon the two of you. 

“Oh, thank God! I swear, I’ve aged five years trying to keep these idiots alive for the last half hour.”

He wrapped his arms draumaticly around you both with his toes barely touching the ground as he all but collapsed. You and Peter both chuckled, offering your condolences and commending him for his bravery. You offered him popcorn and he was delighted to take some. 

“Thanks! I was trying to get everyone over so I could get some but they got distracted. This kettle corn is so good. I’ve been looking forward to it all year.”

You declared that Silas could have as much as he wanted because he was the only person appreciative of your delcectible snack. He cheered as Peter began to defend himself, but then Mile’s feet hit the ground and everyone rushed over. 

“Hey, hey, hey,” Nicholas said as he sauntered up to where you were talking to silas, everyone else in tow, “Gang’s all here,”

You and Peter both greeted him and he immediately burst into a fit of giggles. You looked at eachother skeptically, as if silently discussing the clues to this mystery. As if you couldn’t already figure it out between his spacey approach and his glazed gaze, Nick pulls a battered, half eaten, rice crispy treat out of his pocket. You clock the almost “caramel” colour to it and quickly piece it together. 

He takes a bite before offering it to you and Peter. 

He chuckles when you both decline, “Oh please, you’re not fooling anyone. Parker here definitely smokes,”

Miles smacks his arm, telling him to keep it down, but Nick ignores him, “And dudette here definitely smokes with him.” 

Peter shakes his head and you can feel his breath across your neck from his proximity. “Nick, dude. I told you we could Wednesday. But I’m not gonna now because then I’ll miss the dance. There’s no way you’re getting in there without raising suspicion.”

Nicholas only takes another bite. Defieance drives his every movement although you’re a little lost on who he’s proving wrong.

“Fuck the dance!” He exclaims around a mouthful of sugar and weed, “Who gives a fuck about the dance? You should came back with us after the game. We’re gonna get high and watch all the Lord of the Rings tonight. That’s so much more fun!”

Your smile is growing more and more forced. While you do enjoy these boys, this is not what you wanted right now. While that did sound like a fun evening, it didn’t sound even remotely more appealing than dancing with Peter. 

Still tucked under his arm it’s hard to hid from him. You obviously don’t want Peter to pick the movie night but you also don’t want to force him to go to the dance. You wish you could get a read on him. One minute he’s suggesting you go, the next he’s acting like he never wanted to. It’s all very confusing. 

“Hmmm,” Peter says, “I dunno. We’ve been planing these matching outfits and everything. It would be a shame not to go.” 

Only Nich sounded annoyed by his answer and for the you were grateful. You felt a tugging and realised that Pete was turning you both around. He dipped his head down, knocking your head lightly to catch your attention. 

“Hey, are you okay?”

You tightened up your smile, making it bigger. “Yeah, I’m glad we’re still going to the dance.”

You feel his fingers run across your shoulder and the movement is comforting, “Yeah, of course.”

Tag List: @andrews-lovr, @barbecuetiddy, @cherriescherriesred25, @djdre92, @drunkangels, @heejinw0rld, @ilovemoonknight, @Invisibletrolleyson-jeremy, @Isshecrazyorissheclever, @negasonic-teenage-asshole, @Possiblydeads-blog, @preciousbabypeter, @princesskittycatofmeowland, @purple-amaranthe, @qualitybeliverflower, @raajali3, @rudy-the-winged-wolf, @scorpiolystoned, @tayswiftlovebot, @wannapizzamymindposts, @whoreforklitz,

[thefichoard]

Tiny Heist

Note: This is not a jab at anyone who writes (soft, safe)vore-- I’m a fan of reading it-- I just personally can’t get myself to write it.

Basic Summary: I was really inspired by @awesome-slime-lover‘s story A Delicacy but wanted to put my own spin on it. Essentially, my idea was of a very similar world-- where Tinies are considered a delicacy. But the focus Giant of the story was repulsed by this-- like, legitimately repulsed. In a ‘I’m going to throw up if you’re near my mouth’ kinda way.

Anyways here’s Giant!Tommy who’s repulsed by the idea of eating Tinies-- safely or not. :3 (also there’s swearing)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When Tommy’s friends invited him out to dinner one night, he was really excited! Hanging out with his friends, just relaxing and talking as they tried out the new restaurant that had opened, he couldn’t wait!

He laced up his sneakers and hopped onto the bus headed for their meetup point. Upon arriving he greeted his friends-- high-fiving and side-hugging. The group was already laughing by the time they arrived at the restaurant. 

Tommy shuddered off the blast of cold air from the AC as they entered, sneakers squeaking on the tile floor. It was a nice place for certain, with a sort of French vibe to it. Tommy liked it so far. He and his group were then led out to their seats, and given menus. The friends all chatted and laughed and teased each other as they looked over the menu. Eventually, Tommy decided on a plate of simple spaghetti with marinara, with a side of breadsticks and a salad.

They all continued to chat or send memes to each other as they waited.

Then the food arrived.

Tommy thanked the server, before picking up his fork and glancing at his plate. He paled.

There were tinies in his food.

There were tinies. In his food.

Now, he knew that tinies were something of a delicacy, but he himself hated it. Just the idea made him want to vomit. Looking down at the three dejected, sorrowful, and fearful tinies made bile rise in his throat already. 

Worst part is, his friends knew how repulsed he was by the idea.

What the actual fuck.

He realized he’d been staring intensely-- honestly probably bordering on a glare-- at his plate when the tiny trapped in his spaghetti sank back, looking for all the world like they were on the brink of tears. The one in the salad glanced at his friends, before wincing and swiftly turning away. Tommy followed his gaze only to need to avert his eyes and swallow back the bile threatening to bubble up as his friends ate their tiny-littered dishes with no issues.

Okay, okay, fuck. Tommy’s got this. He’s a big man, he's totally got this.

Very carefully he ate around the Marinara Tiny. He pieced together and threw away plans, before eventually deciding on one.

He’d always had a bit of sticky-fingers, and he could always just wash his hoodie.

While he focused on eating his spaghetti, his left hand was creeping up.

Next moment and the broccoli was devoid of a tiny. He turned his attention to the broccoli. The spaghetti one was gone the next moment and Tommy took a second to wipe his mouth with a napkin, discreetly wiping off the zipper of his jacket pockets as he returned it to his lap.

He ate a bit of spaghetti. The salad tiny must not have noticed his movements, because they started to silently cry. Tommy’s heart twisted. 

His friends went to the restroom, and Tommy immediately smuggled the tiny out of the salad and into his pocket with the rest, zipping up both.

The rest of the meal passed smoothly, and soon Tommy was back on the bus to home.

Mission success.

Next issue: what the hell was he gonna do with three tinies?

Tommy decided that was an issue for Future Tommy, and stepped into his house. He jogged up the stairs and into the bathroom, before he plugged up the sink and started to run some warm water. He pulled over a bar of soap and unzipped his pocket.

The first tiny he pulled out was the pink-haired one from the broccoli, and was struggling like wild.

“Hey, it’s okay,” Tommy mumbled, setting him gently on the counter. The tiny looked confused. Tommy pulled out the other two tinies, before shutting off the faucet.

“Here,” he said, placing down three hand towels. “Uh, I figured you would have wanted to get cleaned up, so. Um, there’s the water, the soap, and some towels. I’ll uh, be back in like, twenty minutes, so, yeah..”

Awkwardly, he left, closing the door behind him to give them some privacy. Then he set an alarm on his phone for twenty minutes to go back and check on them. After throwing his jacket in the wash, he flopped down on his bed.

Well. That had been an eventful night.

Tommy really needed new friends...

[bonny-kookoo]

Carrots and Whiskers (JJK x Reader) 💜🔞🐾

🥕 Pairing: Rabbit!Jungkook x Wolf!Reader

🥕 Genre: Hybrid AU, fluff, smut because why not amirite-

🥕 Warnings: stereotyping, mild mentions of past bullying, fluff, oh god they’re so cute, Dom!Jungkook despite being technically food for Sub!Reader, Dirty talk, it’s sweet though he ain’t calling his baby a hoe don’t worry, unprotected sex because in this hybrid universe they’re unable to conceive due to their different species, please keep that in mind thank you, sweet sweet lovemaking, aftercare, buff boi JK, Big dick JK but what’s new I guess, yeah I’m done now

🥕 Summary: He’s the prey and she’s the predator. So why does she feel like the roles are reversed?

This is a oneshot! If you have any ideas for future content in this universe, feel free to send in asks or requests!

A reputation could easily define your entire life it it was bad enough.

Both sides knew this; Jeon Jungkook, being depicted as the cowardly prey hybrid he was, and Y/N, the bad bad wolf with always malicious intentions. However, none of these depictions were actually true.

Jeon Jungkook was an actually pretty rough and brave young man, never really backing down from a challenge, uncaring on who was in front of him. He got into trouble often as a kid, as a teenager, and now as a young adult.

Y/N was soft spoken, a caring yet quiet hybrid who liked to stay hidden, the spotlight being more of a fear than a goal for her. She loved the simple things in life, liked to be by herself or surrounded by people she trusted and loved.

And she also got a major crush on the bunny in her art and music class.

It was quite cliche really, yet it also wasn't- it was as if she was stuck in a bad joke, never to make it to the punchline. She knew for a fact that he probably didn't even knew who she was, and the worst part about it was that she couldn't even blame him. She loved to not be seen, after all.

"Uhm, excuse me?" Said the voice, forcefully hitting her as she looked up, her own eyes meeting the big brown orbs of-

wait.

"I eh, we're supposed to choose partners for this project, and I know for a fact that you can draw so eh, wanna be partners?" He asked, and she simply stared. Was he- talking to her? "I mean, Its okay if you don't want to-" He started, the squirrel hybrid girl behind him already perking up at her chance, making her swallow a bit.

"N-no, I uhm.. I'd like that." She squeezed out, voice quiet, but he thankfully still heard her. He smiled, brightly and so awfully cliche as his bunny-like teeth showed, sitting down next to her as he pulled out his sketches. "So uh, what did you have in mind.?" She quietly asked, and he talked away, as if he'd always known her.

"Well since we weren't given much other than the theme and colors, I made some small sketches. You know, I get Ideas that are pretty neat sometimes but then I forget them easily, so I have to draw or write them down right away, otherwise I'll wanna bite my own ass later on." He rambled on, gently moving the rough sketches towards her, his eyes watching her as she looked at them, carefully studying his lines.

"This- this one would fit, I think.." She mumbled, tapping on one of his more detailed drawings. He grinned again, nodding, seemingly in agreement. He attempted to say something as the bell rang, students around them both scrambling up to get out as soon as possible, either to catch a bus or to drive home on their bikes.

"Hey do you-" He stumbled, his foot catching on a stray chair as he almost fell. "Do you wanna meet up on the weekend? That way we can finish faster, you know, time to sleep in class." He said, and she simply nodded, until he held his hand out. Her head tilted to the side, ears flopping a bit as he chuckled, mumbling. "cute. Your phone, so I can give you my number?" He explained, and she blushed, stepping back a bit as she placed her bag down on the table next to her, pulling out her phone, charms on the device dangling, making him smile. She really was adorable. "Alright." He said as he took it after she'd opened the phone app, his fingers typing away, before he gave it back to her. "Do you take the bus home?" He asked, and she nodded. "Oh really? I thought the pink bike outside was yours actually." He chatted away as she walked next to him, now a bit shy.

"I actually.. well, I can't, you know, ride a bike, so.." She mumbled, and he laughed for a moment, until he went quiet, sensing that she was serious.

"I eh, I could you know, teach you, if you want?" He asked as he unlocked his own bike. "I mean, not now but like, this weekend?" He asked, and she looked a bit hesitant. "I mean, you don't have to. But I promise I won't let you get hurt." It seemed odd maybe, for a prey hybrid to say that to a predator, but for her, it seemed like the most cheesy and romantic thing she'd ever heard. So she smiled, and nodded. "I uhm.. I think your bus left-" He pointed out, making her ears droop as she watched the vehicle drive off without her. "I can bring you home. It's kind of my fault you missed it, after all." He said, scratching the back of his neck as he suddenly rumbled in his backpack, pulling out a zip hoodie, before folding it, and placing it on the bag of his bike. "My'lady." He offered, and she giggled, making his ears flinch in excitement.

She'd been unaware of him for long enough, and after a talk with his fellow friend Taehyung, he'd decided to finally act on his interest in her. Even though he did get some odd looks from his classmate Jimin, he didn't care about what she was- he cared more about who. Her drawings were always so detailed in a way that would show exactly what she'd though while creating each line, something he always found remarkable. She also had a talent for photography, a hobby he had for himself as well.

"Hold on tight okay?" He said, and she nodded, her arms moving around his waist, redness creeping onto her cheeks as she felt his toned body underneath his thin shirt and loose jean jacket. She held a bit tighter as he finally pushed the bike forward, paddling at a decent pace that made her hair flow a bit with the wind. She couldn't help but enjoy the moment; the way his smell calmed her, the scenery around her, and the fact that it seemed like everything was finally working out for her.

"I'm gonna let go now and you'll just-" He started, but she suddenly grew anxious, her wide eyes immediately finding his.

"no no don't let go I'm gonna fall-" She scrambled out, scared as he simply laughed, one hand on her back as he kept the other on the bike for now.

"I promised, didnt I?" He hummed into her ear, and she blushed at the gentle tone of his voice. He was everything she never thought a prey hybrid would be; he was cunning, brave, and confident in himself. He wasn't after attention at all, simply trying to live his life yet he pulled everyones gaze on himself wherever he went simply by nature. His ears seemed too soft to be legal in her opinion, black and white tuft of fur that was his tail seemingly completely out of place; the rest of his body was toned. It showed that he knew how to take care of himself, it underlined the way he held himself wherever he went.

He was the complete opposite of her it seemed.

She liked to hide in oversized clothing, hybrid features the only thing really giving away that she wasn't just a mouse in disguise.

To him however, it was an entirely different story.

She was so sweet, always trying to help, and always trying to not be a burden. She had so much talent, a unique way of seeing the world, and a gentle way of always looking out for others. It also didn't ease his crush on her that she was absolutely beautiful in his eyes; shorter in statue than him, surprisingly, but he was pretty tall for a rabbit hybrid, he had to admit. His mother had once told him about the different subspecies of wolves when she'd noticed his crush on the girl; her best friend having been a wolf hybrid as well when she'd still been in school. Apparently there were different subtypes for them; alphas, betas and omegas. He guessed that the girl on his bike was an omega, maybe, as it would explain all her characteristics.

"You're doing so great!" He said, bunny smile making her feel more confident as she noticed he only held her by her back; she was actually riding a bike. "See? You can do it!" He happily exclaimed as he helped her off, seat a bit high for her to get down herself. "Lets sit down there and exchange some sketches, yeah?" He offered, and she nodded with a smile, walking next to him as they both sat down on the grass, after Jungkook had put down a small blanket he'd taken with him. "Okay, hit me." He playfully shot her way, as she pulled out her sketchbook, simply sliding it towards him as he opened it, looking through the pages she'd opened for him. "Uah, these are great! I'd use a bit more color on these ones, but the rest is awesome!" He mumbled in thought as he proceeded to change the page, his eyes widening at a familiar pair of eyes, when two delicate hands held his wrist in place.

"Pl-Please uh, that's not for the project eh-" She stuttered, panic evident in her voice as her red face and tilted ears gave away her embarrassment. He simply stared for a moment, before his other hand simply loosened her grip on his wrist, freeing himself without much force. He slowly turned the page, revealing multiple rough sketches of..

Him.

It was him, not very detailed, but clearly visible. Small scenarios were drawn on the page, him staring out the open window of the classroom as he talked to friends, him at the sidelines of his basketball game as he'd taken a break, or him asleep on his desk during class. He studied the drawings, noticing how she'd not cared much about his clothing, or the background; even the desk or the window weren't really drawn very realistically, simply a fast sketch. What did stand out was.. well, his face. The way the sun reflected in his eyes, how his ears had been slightly damp from the slight rain outside, or the tiny things he would've never thought she'd notice about him, like the tiny beauty mark under his lower lip, the slight scar just above his cheek, or how the sides of his eyes crinkled when he laughed, nose scrunched up.

As he looked up she was looking down, hair hiding her eyes as her ears were flat against her skull, tail in her hands, which nervously fiddled with the fur. "I-" He started, before he began to open his own bag, ruffling around in it as his own ears lowered themselves while he tried to find something. "Hah!" He exclaimed in victory, hands sliding off the rubber band of his own folder which kept his messily organized sketches and finished works. He rummaged through them, before he started to lay some of them out in front of her, one by one. Slowly, her ears turned, attention on what he'd put down in front of her.

He always had a different way of drawing things, not really putting a lot of effort into the outlines or sketches themselves; but he had a way of coloring things, a unique style that made things feel almost alive. In every picture, he'd dedicated most of his effort to color the fur of her hybrid features almost perfectly- he also payed special attention to her postures in every picture. He never drew her eyes however- which she noticed. "I uhm.. I've never got the chance to see them up close, so I had a bit of trouble with them.." He explained. "I've noticed you pretty early when we shared our first classes together.. But I never really got around to talk to you. You and Namjoon-Hyung always seemed so close, I thought.." He revealed, scratching behind his own ear as he suddenly felt a bit bashful.

"You.. I mean, Joonie is a good friend but we uh.." She started, voice a bit low as she laughed a bit.

"I know, I know, he told me-" Jungkook answered, now chuckling. "Thats why I immediately took my chance when they'd announced the group project." He said. "It gave me a chance to you know, get to know you better. Get closer, you know?" He explained, and she nodded. "So uh.." He mumbled, before he smiled at her hopefully. "Wanna uh- get cake together today? Like a date?" He asked, and she nodded, making him suddenly jump up as he fist bumped the air, making a passerby elderly couple laugh. "Yes!"

"Carrot cake?" She asked, an almost teasing smile on her lips as he looked at her.

"What? Don't judge puppy!" He said, making her scoff scandalized.

"Hey, I'm a wolf, not a dog!" She explained as she stirred her milkshake with her pink straw before grabbing the spoon from her small metal plate.

"And I'm a rabbit, not a bunny. So guess we're even." He said, before his smile faded a bit, eyes stuck to the spoonful of whipped cream which made its way inside her mouth, tongue darting out to lick her lips clean before she noticed his gaze. He snapped out of it, suddenly the one growing a bit shy. "You uh.. wait, lemme just-" He mumbled, hand moving to wipe the corner of her mouth as he licked his finger clean himself, making her eyes widen before she mumbled a 'thanks' under her breath. He grinned.

"So uh-" He asked, pushing down his small cake fork to pick up a piece of cake, holding it out towards her. "open up?" He asked, and she hesitated a bit, before leaning forward a bit, lips parting. He placed the piece into her mouth, watching as she closed her lips, accepting his offering of food before she nodded her head approvingly. "See? Don't judge before you try!" He exclaimed, and she giggled at that.

He was right.

"I'm absolutely beat." He suddenly exclaimed, falling down onto the mattress laying on the ground in the corner of the new, unfurnished bedroom. The wolf hybrid sat down next to his sprawled out form, gently moving his blonde tipped hair away from his eyes. He'd dyed it months ago, his roots more than visible at this point, yet he'd simply decided to let it grow. "Come here~!" He playfully demanded, hands reaching out for her as he pulled her down with him, happily humming when she was laying on his chest. "Can you believe we're actually gonna live together from now on?" He asked, and she shook her head, moving around a bit so she straddled him, sat on his thighs as he suddenly watches her with hooded eyes, hands on her hips as his thumbs move in circles over the skin underneath her sweater- his sweater. "Hm.. I mean.." He offered, suddenly moving to sit up, changing position as she's now underneath him, his hair tickling her face slightly when he begins to kiss against her pulse. "I was about to ask if we should at least put up the bedframe, but having a mattress on the floor.." He started, hands wandering underneath the clothing of his she wore as he continued in a low voice. "..means I can't break the bed this time." He said, and she giggled at that, remembering the time their time together had been roughly interrupted by the weak frame of his old bed breaking. "Oh, my puppy thinks that's funny?" He wonders, making her grin as he kissed her deeply.

Moments like these made her almost forget the stereotypes she'd grown up with during her live- since Jungkook was nothing like the typically depicted rabbit hybrids. Because right now the roles seemed completely reversed, as he mouthed at her neck, feeling her pulse race as he continued to map out her body with just his hands, no need to watch where they were, able to seemingly paint a picture of her by touch at this point. Clothes suddenly seemed to tight, itchy, as if bitten by a mosquito. She whined as he chuckled darkly, helping her out of his sweater as he immediately grabbed her breasts, kneading them before he continued to undress her, making quick work of her shorts as he pulled down her underwear as well- her already glistening center clinging to the damp fabric of her underwear as she squirmed, making him humm in appreciation. He pulled his own shirt over his head as well, revealing his body to her as the sun outside painted glowing stripes onto it, the blinds drawing patterns on her skin as well. He finally freed himself from the confines of his own underwear as well, standing proud and ready as she became restless.

"Hm, puppy wants to be filled up yeah?" He asked with a teasing undertone, proudly making use of the privilege to be able to call her that- since she hated it when others did it. It was the same the other way around however; typically, being called a 'bunny' was an absolute insult to him, but for some reason it seemed like a cute nickname coming from her. Maybe he was just whipped. Or maybe she was just privileged as well.

He entered her slowly as he sighed alongside her, not wasting any time as he fell into rhythm, hips thrusting forwards as her hands reached for his, intertwining their fingers as he felt his soul warm up at the gesture. He felt so loved, so cherished, it made him fear for his heart, as he swore it stopped every time he was close to her like this. He felt complete, like he'd found his soulmate, his other half- it didn't matter to him what she was. Sure, his parents were a bit dissapointed since they couldn't have kids naturally because of this, but they both could always adopt in the future. Thinking about it made his heart swell as he thought about her, caring for their kids, making this small apartment into a family home one day. Maybe it was instinct, but he'd already been driven nuts by the way she'd helped him choose furniture and wallpaper for the small living space they'd be sharing; the simple fact that she wanted to make their apartment into a home feeding his inner instincts to build a home to keep her safe in.

He felt her legs shake a bit as he shifted a bit, making her whine as he suddenly picked up his pace, sweat already slowly beginning to coat his skin as he didn't seem to notice how the sound of skin against skin still echoed in the almost empty room since it lacked furniture- but it didn't matter for now anyways. They'd both fill it with things and memories of the both of them, and he couldn't wait for it. He huffed a bit as he moved, leaning down a bit to rest his forehead against her neck as she bared it for him, a natural instinct of hers to submit to him even if he was of another species with no need of such gestures. He'd adapted to it however, gently biting the skin as he felt her shiver underneath him, a sign that she was getting close. "Hm my baby wanna cum?" He asked, gently beginning to tease her as she nodded, eyes closed in bliss. "You want a knot huh?" He asked, and she shook her head no, as he chuckled. He'd felt a bit insecure the first few times around as he knew how things worked for canine hybrids, worried that he maybe couldn't give her what she wanted or needed, yet she'd always reassured him. Now it was more like a teasing thing for him, and a way to tickle a praise out of her- a way of reminding himself that she loved him just as much as she did her. "No? You don't?" She shook her head again, her fingers holding his hands tighter. "What do you want then, huh?" He asked with a grin as she whined.

"You- you, only want ngh.. only need Kookie-!" She pressed out, and he hummed approvingly, his thrusts beginning to grow sloppy as he neared his end.

"That's right, only me, only mine, yeah?" He asked, and she nodded, suddenly opening mouth as her head buried itself into the mattress below her, clenching around him as he groaned out, burying himself deep inside her as he spilled. "Thats it, take it like a puppy- good girl!" He praised, making her whine as he leaned his body down, kissing her neck, her throat, and then her lips as they both calmed down from their highs, breathing slowly growing more and more even as he moved a bit to grab a box as he slid it towards him, rummaging through it before he took out a roll of kitchen towels, grabbing a few as he slipped out of her, carefully catching his release and her own juices as to not make a mess. He had a gentle smile on his face as he carefully cleaned her up before he stood, walking towards another box where he pulled out a large pillow and a few blankets, instincts taking over as he began to cover her now rapidly cooling body in soft fabrics before cuddling up next to her, pulling another blanket over his own form as he made sure his partner was comfortable. She slipped out of her makeshift blanket burrito to invite him in, making him grin his signature bunny smile as he held her close, skin on skin as he closed his eyes, the only light in the room the streetlamps outside.

This already felt like home.

[trashyswitch]

The Giggle Doll

Patton and Virgil sew presents for each other. The present Virgil gives Patton, is a doll with a bit of playful voodoo magic hidden in it. Patton isn't sure how to feel about it, but quickly warms up to it when Virgil uses it on him.

This fanfic is a mixture of Day 18, and Day 22.

Day 18: Holding It In

Day 22: Fingers

Patton and Virgil were sewing together in Virgil’s room. Virgil had just finished off the last bit of stitching on his creation, while Patton was sewing on a pompom. After tying the stitching and cutting the thread short, Virgil did one last look over before declaring it done!

“Hey Patton, I finally finished.” Virgil told Patton. Patton looked up and widened his eyes in surprise! Is that-

“It’s ME!” Patton realized out loud.

Virgil giggled and nodded. “It’s you, alright. It’s a tiny Patton!” Virgil told him, stretching the doll out and swaying the doll left and right. “Isn’t it cute?” Virgil asked him. Patton nodded his head. “Well...Do you want it?” Virgil asked.

Patton stuttered. “W-wait, really?! You want me to have the mini Patton doll?!” Patton clarified.

“Of course! Your own mini Patton.” Virgil told him as he handed Patton the doll. Patton smiled excitedly as he looked at the doll. It looked just like him! And it was so cute!

Then, Patton looked on the desk at the creation he made. “Here: I made this for you!” Patton told him, grabbing it and showing it to him. Virgil looked up and covered his mouth. “Oh my gosh! Patton…” Virgil took it and spun it around. “Did-did you really sew this for me?! This is awesome!” Virgil reacted.

It was a black beanie with cut up and sewn pieces of Virgil’s leftover purple plaid material! It looked like a perfect patterned replica of his sweater! Lastly, the top of the hat had a little to mid-sized dark purple pom pom sewed on. It looked like a Virgil-fied winter beanie!

“Yay! I’m glad you like it! I thought you could use something up your alley, that’s also warm for the cold days!” Patton explained.

Virgil happily put the hat onto his head. It was warm! But, it was also breathable: perfect for fall. Virgil fixed up the positioning a little and gave Patton a big smile! “It fits! And it dangles down enough!” Patton reacted happily.

Virgil gave Patton a huge hug. “Thank you Pat.” He told him.

“You’re welcome!” Patton replied.

The two sides hugged each other for a good 5 minutes or so, before finally letting go. “Hey Patton, wanna see something cool?” Virgil asked.

Patton nodded. “Of course!” Patton replied.

“Okay. It involves the doll, so…” Virgil clarified as he held his hand out. Patton quickly caught onto Virgil's signal, and handed him the doll. Virgil flipped the doll onto its belly, and pointed to the zipper. “This zipper on the back, is meant to hold a piece of you, or someone else.” Virgil explained. Patton nodded along, despite being both confused and slightly creeped out by the spoken sentence. “What I mean is…” Virgil paused his words as he unzipped the zipper, and walked up to Patton with his hand out.

Patton squeaked in sudden nervousness, and pulled his hands back against his own chest. “No! You are not pricking my finger for blood.” Patton let him know.

Virgil lowered his hand a bit. “I...No no no. This isn’t gonna hurt you.” Virgil reassured him. “It’s only gonna involve...touching your hair.” Virgil explained.

Patton’s face seemed to soften at that explanation. Patton brought himself closer and allowed Virgil to do his thing. Virgil brushed his hand through his hair, and lightly removed his hand. Virgil smiled as he noticed the pieces of shedded hair that had fallen out of Patton’s scalp, dangling off Virgil’s hand now. Virgil grabbed one of the hairs and dropped the rest, before bundling it up and inserting it into the back of the doll. “Oooooh...This is voodoo magic.” Patton said to him.

Virgil looked up as he zipped up the zipper on the back of the doll. “That’s right.” Virgil replied.

“Did...did Remus teach you this?” Patton asked him.

Virgil chuckled and shook his head. “Nope. More like I taught him.” Virgil replied. “Don’t worry Patton...I’m not gonna use the magic or the doll, to hurt you in any way.” Virgil reassured.

“I trust you. It’s just...I’m not sure I trust the magic itself.” Patton explained.

“That’s understandable. But the magic is only active if someone activates it. So if you trust me, you can trust the magic that’s being activated by me.” Virgil explained further.

Patton let out a breath of relief and nodded his head in understanding. “Okay.” He replied.

“Besides:” Virgil started scratching the doll’s left side. “This voodoo magic is more fun than threatening.” Virgil added.

Patton jumped and jolted at every scratch as a small smile grew onto his face. “Tihihickling? Ahare you seheherious?” Patton asked.

Virgil started scratching the right side next. “Yup. That’s all.” Virgil replied.

Patton couldn’t help the giggles that left his mouth or his slight wiggles either. It was bizarre! He could feel Virgil scratching his sides, but Virgil was standing a couple feet in front of him! And the scratching feeling felt familiar to Virgil’s usual touch. And yet...it still felt slightly foreign to him.

“Are you still scared?” Virgil asked him, walking closer to him with the doll. Patton thought for a moment amidst his short giggling and shook his head no. Virgil’s smile widened. “That’s good! That means I can do THIS:” Virgil lifted the doll up to Patton’s eye level, and made him watch in horror as Virgil scratched both his armpits at once!

“EEEHEHEEEEE!” Patton squealed in surprise as he doubled over and kept his elbows on his sides to ‘squish the tickling fingers’. “WHYYYYHEEHEEHEEHEE?! WHYTHE PIHIHIHIHITS?!” Patton protested.

Virgil giggled at that. “Oh No! PaTtOn HaS sQuIsHeD mY pOoR fInGeRs!” Virgil reacted sarcastically. “WhAtEvEr WiLl I dO?!” Virgil asked in fake, overdramatic worry.

Patton’s laughter only increased from there. Virgil’s rare dramatic tone has always made him laugh on its own! So Virgil tickling him AND using his dramatic voice?! Patton fell into hysterics pretty quickly.

Virgil enjoyed the view just from a couple feet away. Virgil gave Patton’s pits a break and moved onto the doll’s belly. For this, Virgil decided to grab a broken pencil crayon. Virgil quickly grabbed a blue broken pencil crayon from Patton’s pencil case and gave the doll’s belly a simple poke with the item. “How would you feel if I just…” Virgil tipped the doll so the belly was more angled to himself, and started drawing swirls from the outside belly and sides, to the x-shaped belly button on the doll.

Patton slowly fell into a giggle fit and struggled to keep himself standing. Even though this wasn’t nearly as bad as the armpits, his knees gave in anyway and Patton came flopping onto the carpet below. There, Patton clutched his stomach and rolled around on the floor like a puppy.

“Does Patty like the swirlies? Does Patty like when the pencil goes swirly-swirly-swirly-swirly-swirling to the belly button?” Virgil teased.

Patton tucked himself into the fetal position and let out more laughter as he nodded his head. “YEHEHEHES! THIHIHIS IHIHIS FUHUHUHUHUN!” Patton told him through his giddy giggling.

Virgil paused his tickling in pure surprise. “I- You LIKE this?!” Virgil reacted.

Patton’s body stretched itself back out as his laughter slowed into giggles. “Yeheah! Ihihit’s weheheird, buhuhut ihit’s fuhuhuhun!” Patton replied, not even afraid to admit it.

Virgil stared at Patton in pure awe. He ended up dropping the doll as he got lost in a trance, which resulted in Patton jumping and getting some giggles kicked right out of him! Virgil quickly snapped out of it as he realized his grip was empty. “Oh my gosh- I’m so sorry Patton! I hope I didn’t hurt you.” Virgil apologized quickly out of worry as he picked up the doll and placed it beside Patton.

“Ihihit’s fihine. Ihihihihi’m ohokahahay.” Patton replied.

Patton looked at the voodoo doll beside him and turned his body towards the doll. Using his own finger, Patton poked the doll’s belly button and quickly let out a guffaw and a giggle. “Hehehey! I can tickle myself!” Patton declared.

Virgil wheezed and covered his mouth with his fist. Of COURSE Patton would be excited about that! “Ihihi should’ve known yohou’d start tihihihicklihing yohohourself.” Virgil reacted.

Patton giggled excitedly and nodded. “Ihihi cahan tihihicklehehe myhyself nohohohow!” Patton reacted eagerly. “Buhuhut...Cahan Ihihi tihihickle yohohou?” Patton asked out of curiosity. Patton stood back up and quickly fluffed Virgil’s hand to get some hair. With a couple hairs in his hand, Patton grabbed one of them and opened the zipper. Patton used his other hand to fish around for the hair, and remove it. Once the father’s own hair was removed, Patton put Virgil’s hair into the doll and zipped up the zipper.

“Perfect! Now let’s see if touching this thing can tickle yo-...Oh!” Patton looked at the doll and widened as he realized what was happening: The doll’s clothing and accessories were changing to look like Virgil! The doll’s hair looked the same, but the glasses disappeared and the dad’s clothing had turned into a purple hoodie! “Wow! It’s you! Your DNA can change the doll!” Patton reacted.

Virgil widened his eyes. It was certainly a mini Virgil, alright!

“Hmmm...Let’s try it out!” Patton declared before tickling Virgil’s side.

Virgil gasped and immediately sprinted towards Patton and the doll. Patton looked up and giggled, before jumping out of the way and tickling Mini Virgil’s hip. Virgil yelped and looked down at his hip before sending Patton a horrified look with a wobbly smile mixed in. Patton only giggled more. “Ticklish?” Patton asked before scratching all 5 fingers on the doll’s belly.

“NAHA!” Virgil let out, doubling over before falling onto his side in the fetal position.

Patton gasped, but dropped his sudden excitement. He’s getting there, but he was being stubborn! “Are you gonna break yet? Or am I gonna have to tickle you more?” Patton asked him.

Virgil stared at him with a look of ‘HELP’ written on his face. Patton let out a short laugh as he lifted up the doll’s left arm and watched Virgil’s face go pale. Patton knew the exact spot that could kick his stubborn butt right into hysterics!

Patton scratched in the doll’s left armpit. “Coochy coochy coo!” Patton teased as well.

Virgil practically spasmed! “AAAAH!” Virgil shouted before covering his mouth with his hands. Patton was so close! One more tickle, and Virgil will be laughing! Patton lifted up the doll’s other arm and slowly lowered his finger towards the right armpit. Virgil watched this whole moment in intense anticipation before finally squeezing his eyes shut...

Patton’s finger touched down and tickled the doll’s right armpit along with the left one. Virgil threw his head back and finally broke: “BAHA- HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! STAHAHA-STAHAHAHAP IHIHIHIHIHAHAHAHAHAHA!” Virgil screamed and squirmed absolutely everywhere.

“Revenge sure is sweet!” Patton said to himself as he tickled both armpits.

“EHEHEHEHEVIHIHIHIL! YOHOHOHOU’RE SOHOHOHOHOHO EHEHEVIHIHIHIHIL!” Virgil shouted at him.

“Ooooh, I know. But you were being rude by not laughing! You were holding your laughter in, and I wasn’t having that!” Patton mentioned.

“IHIHIHIHIHI- PAHAHAHAHAT PLEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEASE!” Virgil shouted.

“Oh, alright.” Patton decided and stopped tickling the armpits. Virgil’s laughter fell little by little from hysterics into giggles. The emo’s body untucked from the fetal position while his arms remained around his belly. Virgil was a giggling mess with his hair and makeup all over the place. It was kinda cute, to be honest.

“I love how ticklish you are. It’s very fun!” Patton told him.

Virgil soon lifted himself up onto his feet and ran towards Patton again. This time, Virgil managed to land onto Patton’s shoulders! But to try and remain the upper hand, Patton tried tickling the foot stubs on the doll.

Virgil shrieked like a pterodactyl, and swung his feet everywhere! Patton paused his tickling, brought Virgil to the floor on his back and laid across Virgil’s waist while tickling the doll’s stubby feet. “YOHOHOHOU-” Virgil sat up quickly and started tickling Patton’s belly and hips to try and get him back. And, he did successfully get a few titters out of Patton! But Patton still continued to tickle his feet, which started to drive Virgil up the wall. Trying to get someone back was hard, especially when someone was tickling one of your worst spots at the same time!

Virgil finally attempted to tickle both Patton’s neck and Patton’s hip at the same time. Patton let out a surprised guffaw, but quickly tried to recover and resume his tickles on the doll’s feet stubs. Virgil tried multiple other spots at once, but couldn’t get Patton back properly without being overcome by foot tickles and giving up! It was agitating!

Suddenly, Virgil remembered something! He sat himself up, shoved his hands into Patton’s armpits and tickled each armpit at a time super quickly. Patton squawked and bucked, and quickly swayed back and forth! “VIRG-VIHIRGIL-” Patton struggled to speak without accidentally laughing.

“You gonna break yet? Or am I gonna have to tickle you more?” Virgil asked, repeating what Patton said to him earlier.

Patton squeezed his eyes shut and tightened his grip. This caused the grip on the doll to tighten, leading to slight pain and asphyxiation inside Virgil’s body. It felt like someone was crushing his middle! It felt weird and almost scary! “P-PAT!” Virgil shouted, his hands starting to clutch his body. With no moment to lose, Virgil reached for Patton’s foot and tickled it as quickly as he could with his fingers alone.

“VIHIHIHIRGIHIHIHIHIL!” Patton shouted as he dropped the doll onto his lap. “NAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!” Patton screamed and cackled as he kicked his feet around. Virgil took a moment to get his breath back a bit and quickly resumed tickling Patton’s foot.

As it turns out, Both sides had something in common: Both of them were SUPER ticklish on their feet! This ended up turning into a big competitive tickle fight to see who could last the longest while someone tickled their feet. It was soon discovered that Virgil was just a bit more ticklish on his feet than Patton, by half a second!

Then Virgil’s hair was removed from the doll, the doll’s features returned back to resembling Patton. That was a really cool, unexplainable feature that Virgil’s homemade voodoo doll possessed: the power of shapeshifting.

...Maybe there were bits of Voodoo magic that can be activated on its own...

[theawesomeally]

Before We Met (Preview)

Prologue

In a world inhabited by mythic creatures, love was commonplace several millennia ago, though difficult to master. After his training advances over the decades, his powers became obsolete and were largely discarded.

[The camera zooms in on the city and two blazing specks of light dash all over the place as one shoots lasers at the other. We then see an enemy aircraft flying throughout while it's chasing a young man, who is running from the pursuer. We see full closeups of a guy in his craft and Rocky as he runs. The scene freezes after an explosion with Rocky barely missing it.]

[voice over]

Through the years I have been known by many names. Marshmallow, The Furry Lover, The Daredevil, Frisky Two Times and then The amazing Ryan Reynolds. But to most, I am Rocky, the awesome one!

[Some other women, leaning across the wall, and Rocky getting his shades from his pocket. Put it onto his eyes. While he puts his hoodie onto his shoulders. Rocky was dressed like a gentleman, but he fought with honor or dignity and pulled at the knot into his tie. Females are not meant to grab his attention, and if it does. To be fair, he heard most of what he'd said up to this point. The parts that weren't of his interest, anyway.

Okay, maybe that wasn't much]

His sigh is heavy with exasperation,

"Can you keep your dick in your pants at the gala?"

Grab his phone from his pocket, automatically switching it out of Bluetooth mode, and bring his earphone up to his ear.

I will never forget you, Margarita. [The female stops and cringe after hearing the name. His blue prominent eyes were not well adapted to winking. They were rather of the sort that closes solemnly in slumber with majestic effect.

Rocky pretend to consider as Rocky step out of the car and button his tux jacket. "Hmm."

"Nice wheels, sir," the valet says, unconcerned that he was on the phone. Rocky pull out his wallet and flash a fifty-dollar bill. "Take care of her and this is yours."

"Yes, Mr. Rocky."

"I mean, Rosa. Uh...sorry. I think maybe I should go.???." She wrapped her arms over her chest and shook her head with a smirk curved across her face. Rocky grinned and raised an ironical finger in salute Rocky starts backing away. "You can't get away with it." the security guard muttered, holding out one hand. He was moving very slowly, thinking Rocky was the enemy or something. Blinks at her as a farewell, but glance with a smug as he sees the vampire's ring. Mind was so wrapped up in thought that he didn't notice the familiar vampire standing behind him. A vampire with bad breath psycho. "Hey, come on, dickie! You're trashing public property here!" He is thinking about how he had to sneaked up onto the roof and is currently standing a few feet behind him.

Rocky then gently slides the ring off the vampire's finger using his katana.

Light glinted off a myriad of his Katana and the vampire ring. Spray from the dust to blew up into his face, but sweat more than seawater moistened his palms as he gripped the eagle. His eyes were as blue while the vampires eyes were cold as the stormy weather.

"Hey, it's Gale calling," says Rocky called over his shoulder to one nefarious vampire. "Love the shiny suit. Really brings out the sex trafficker in your eyes." Rocky had commented, half jokingly and straight up confident, how that guy would have been considered handsome - if he ever bothered to smile.

Cut to a shot of a cliff.

A grim expression again carved itself into the soldier's face as he gazed up at the jeering vampires, their bodies smeared with blood, upon the cliff tops. Even the most cowardly of tribes in Gaul would fancy its chances from such advantageous ground, one being was mused. The sound of their jeers was occasionally accompanied by the high pitched swish of an arrow, as the odd archer tried his luck. Invariably the missile would zip harmlessly into the sea, or at best a thud could be heard as it struck as a human shield or the solid surface of the earth.

Cut back to the fighting scene. Rocky is skewering a guy with his swords, and kicks the vampire in the chest, sending him back down and puts his sword away. The guy gasp and starts fighting with Rocky. This continues for awhile until Rocky get's away again. Using two fingers he salute the vampire as a goodbye.

Making a soft chuckle. He flicks the vampire ring up into the air. It comes back down and lands into one of the streets, causing his background to explode. The shards of fire fell in slow motion behind him.

He is consumed in the explosion, as his body can be seen flying off the ground, flipping off the camera as it goes. "Oh, fuck." Rocky mutter under his breath. "Oh, I'm sorry." A small apology leaving his lips with a smirk.

"That will teach you, not to mess with me," A familiar voiced ask, up righting his head as he walk over the circles and appeared in front of him,

(narrator)

So, I know what you're thinking. Why is that incredibly handsome guy being chased by a madman with a huge shiny fangs from the Civil War?

[The scene freezes after an explosion sending Rocky flying off the ground from the ground. After the dust settles, leaving Rocky lying unconscious on the ground.]

This guy's got the right idea. Well, to be honest, it feels like I've been the captain of my whole life. Is this too much? Am I going too fast? It's kind of what I do--You know what? Let's back up.

[We see the whole fight going in reverse as well as frames of future clips for a split second each time, one passes as Rocky mimics a rewind sound effect] Cut to close-up of Rocky gets up to his feet. Cut to him sitting on the side of the gable roof at night. Wondering how long it would be before he saw the city again. He had been born with a wandering heart, and he embraced adventure, unafraid to face the dangers often presented by journeys into unknown places. Leaving civilization behind for the wilds of the frozen north, legs dangling over the side as he listens to his Walkman next to him playing 'Shoop.' Rocky was vaguely singing along, making hand gestures along with the lyrics, but he was focused on his own drawing, while listening to the music and coloring a picture with crayons. We see that the picture he's drawing is him shooting the vampire in the head, he was doing it with some crayons he had with him.

It was fun to see that getting shot in the head, even if it was just a crayon drawing. He'd never soon change it to a reality. And then turned his head and stared directly at the camera, or the person reading, or just whoever balls happened to be paying a lot of attention to him.

Wha- Oh! Oh, hello. I know, right? Who's balls did I have to snap to get my very own story? I can't tell you, but it does rhyme with dick. And let me tell you; he's got a nice pair of fucking underwear, he finished in an Swedish accent.

They'd get that joke, right?

Anyway, I got places to be, a kiss in the ass to fix, and - oh! hot weird vampire to kill.

He watched eagerly as the flashes of light began to appear below him – lots of rippers were a very dramatic little shit, after all – we're panning quickly towards the edge of the roof he was sitting on. Now having an appointment to keep, Rocky was quick to get onto edge of the roof and, in one fluid motion, opens a music playlist called Tunes of Anarchy on his Walkman, and the song "Where Evil Grows" by The Poppy Family stays playing in the background as he jumped off the roof, landing in one of the coolest bar in Mystic Falls. It seemed that they had been drinking peacefully, listening to 'Angel of the Morning,' but when Rocky landed and that's when their peaceful night was over.

They look around for which they finally see as Rocky stands at a wooden doorway wearing a cowboy hat, black sunglasses, and red a white hoodie as he opens a music playlist called Tunes of Anarchy on his Walkman. Opens up and the door swings open and the music resumes with people dancing and lights flashing as he goes inside the bar.

Nothing.

Absolutely positively not a fucking thing.

First one person turned, noticing him. Then more followed, until the whole patron was hushed, waiting. Everyone was watching, the same bewildered look on all of their faces. Eyebrows raised and narrowed eyes, etc. God, for months he'd played this moment over and over inside his mind. It most definitely never turned out like this. Whatever this was.

As he walks up to the bar. The room was narrow and about 90 feet deep. Light did manage to worm its way into the establishment, though. It seeped through the windows scattered along the walls, and through the gaps in the door between its wooden panels. A bar on the left at the front, then some upholstered horseshoe benches, then a cluster of freestanding tables on what, on other nights, might have been a dance floor. Then the stage, with the band on it. The band looked as if it had been put together by accident after a misfiling incident at a talent agency. The bass player was a stout old black guy in a suit with a vest. He was plucking away at an upright bass fiddle. The drummer could have been his uncle. He was a big old guy sprawled comfortably behind a small, simple kit. The singer was also a harmonica player and was older than the bass player and younger than the drummer and bigger than either one.

The guitarist was completely different. He was young and white and small. Maybe 20, maybe 5-foot-6, maybe 130 pounds. He had a fancy blue guitar wired to a crisp new amplifier and together the instrument and the electronics made sharp sounds full of space and echoes. The amp must have been turned up to 11. The sound was incredibly loud. It was as if the air in the room was locked solid. It had no more capacity for volume. But the music was good. The three black guys were old pros, and the white kid knew all the notes, and when and how and in what order to play them. He was wearing a red T-shirt and black pants and white tennis shoes. He had a very serious expression on his face. He looked foreign. Maybe Russian.

I watched them for a minute, and then I looked away. My name is Rocky, and once I was the most wanted man, with heavy emphasis on the past tense. I have been out nearly as long as I was in. But old habits die hard. I had stepped into the bar the same way I always step anywhere, which is carefully. One-thirty in the morning. I had ridden the train to West and walked south on Sixth Avenue and made the left turn on San Francisco bar and checked the sidewalks. I wanted music, but not the kind that drives large numbers of patrons outside to smoke.

His attention was taken away from patrons. It was at that point that he saw the young beautiful woman alone at her table, Her name tag read Katy, and her shirt clung tightly around her chest. Her hands worked quickly and gracefully with the bottles as she poured them another and took the empty's away.

I watched her in the gaudy, reflected light, with the music shrieking and pounding all around me. The two guys watched her. Her bodyguard watched her. She watched the guitarist. He was concentrating hard, key changes and choruses, but from time to time he would lift his head and smile, mostly at the glory of being up on the stage, but twice directly at the girl. The first of those smiles was shy, and the second was a little wider.

What met my eyes was a beautiful girl with golden hair and a bright smile that melted my heart. She was blond and blue-eyed, American woman who have a glow, and a smoothness complexion. She lives in New York, singing, listening to a band, and I was in love with her angelic voice. That was clear. There I was, a guy further back in the room, stood in the room staring at her. I was 6ft tall, wide man with a white hoodie and a black leather jacket under a hoodie. She was part of the reason I was here with her back in a city when we were at the age of 19 or less.

It wasn't the kind of glossy place that had a policy about dating rich girls, either for or against. Some call it a gold digger, and I guessed they had looked at her and her minder and made a snap decision against trouble and in favor of tips.

The part of her gaze that wasn't wary was filled with adoration, and it was all aimed in his direction. She was rich. She was alone at a table near the stage and she had a pile of A.T.M fresh twenties in front of her and she was paying for each new bottle with one of them and she wasn't asking for change.

She was a waitress and I loved her.

The woman stood up. She butted the lip of her table with her thighs and shuffled out from behind it and headed for the counter in back. I got there first. The sound from the band howled through it. The ladies' room was halfway down. The men's room was all the way at the end. Rocky leaned on the wall and scanned the room. As Rocky watched her walk in and squeeze through the crowd and she sat down on the bar stool, 1 feet away from him.

"Hey, Raoul, look what this kid dragged in. Oh, wait! That is the guy!," but they didn't hear. Too much noise. He caught them by the elbows, one in each hand. They spun around, as if ready to fight, but then they stopped. Fortunately for him, the first two who approached her were quick to heed her dismissal. She wasn't there to mingle with huge ass in leather jackets. She was just there to grab a drink and relax and pretty sure she made that pretty clear when she shot the first couple of idiots down.

The third guy, however, wasn't ready to take no for an answer.

"How about you let me buy you a drink, sweetheart?"

Their sex appeal eyes pried upon their eyes from the television screen above the bar and looked at the newcomer. With his hair greased back and one-size-too-big biker jacket on, the guy looked like prime wife-beater material. Perfect. Just what they needed to interrupt his evening.

"Thanks, but I'm good," she said curtly, gesturing to the beer bottle in front of her.

"That's it? You're gonna chug that shitty beer and call it a night? Come on, let me get you a real drink."

She scoffed. "What? Like those idiots you got over there?" she glanced past him at the table where he and a couple of his friends had been sitting.

"It's a warm-up. Trust me, honey, we're just getting started over there. You should join us."

She wanted to roll her eyes. "Like I said, I'm good."

She made the move to turn away and focus her attention back on the football game on the television when the guy grabbed her by the arm.

"What the hell's your problem?" This guy gripped her arm tightly, this guy's face practically scrunched up in a beastly snarl. "I don't like to be ignored, y'know?"

She yanked her arm out of his grip and stood up to face him directly. She knew pretty damn well where the conversation was headed and sure as hell were not about to get in a bar fight with their ass glued to the seat.

Before she could open her mouth, a familiar voice spoke up from behind her.

By hearing it and raising their head to turn to his voice, her smile grew a tad wider, recognizing the voice immediately. They simply looked so annoyed, at least much more than usual. His lips pulled into a tight frown, while their eyes narrowed, eyebrows furrowed, back hunched over slightly if you'd look hard enough. Yep, those guys are just being grumpy as usual, but seemingly much more grumpy, except with their eyes laced with the slightest bit of concern. For herself, most likely.

The said person stopped, and looked over their shoulder to the voice. She put on a mellow look close to her usual one. Confrontation- unnecessary confrontation- was not exactly his thing. He tended to avoid fights like these. He could hold his ground better than most, but he preferred to keep out of the brawls and spats that others got involved in.

A voice caught his ear, she sounded like she needed help, despite the overconfident tone the stranger used. "Look, I don't wanna interrupt, but is this guy bothering you?" he looks up at her and says greeted casually, as casual as someone could be hanging for dear life. She looked up at me, startled that he was there. "I'm sorry. Did I scare you up?" he softly asked, when she turned to get a good look at the stranger in his handsome voice. She wasn't expecting the sight she was met with. A pair of piercing blue eyes smiled over her, puffing out her cheeks childishly when she looked at him. After she looked to her right to find Rocky taking his place beside her. Her pinkish lips turned up in a small smile as she ducked her head briefly with a laugh before tucking her hair behind her ear, "No, you did not," she said. He couldn't keep the amusement out of his voice. She turned her head to look at him, catching his gaze with her own. He gave a small smile, stroking her hair softly with his index. "So, What exactly are you doing here?" she said softly, trying to maintain an even tone of voice.

"Oh you know, I was just passing through the neighborhood when I thought I caught a whiff of filthy human garbage coming from this place," he said,

"And sure enough here I am."

Desire pools dark and deadly in his groin. Gaze up at her, releasing her lip. Katy flush a deep crimson in her cheeks, and he runs his index finger down her cheek before handing her the headphones. "I'd like to kiss you, too, but you won't let me down, are you?." Rocky asked her. Besides, he's pulled the straps so tight he can barely move.

Amused smile on his lips, he's wearing his enigmatic half smile. He glances down at her, light blue-gray eyes alive, he glances up when she looks at his way and their eyes lock. And in that brief moment, she was paralyzed, staring at the impossibly handsome man who gazes at her with some unfathomable emotion. His gaze hot, burning into her, as they lost for a moment staring at each other.

It's there in the air between them, that electricity. It's palpable. He can almost taste it, pulsing between them, drawing them together.

"Oh my," she gasps as she basks briefly in the intensity of this visceral, primal attraction. The two men stood back, saying nothing, but looking at him with hard eyes.

Katy had, somehow, stammered out some sort of reply that must have made her look insane. Coby, hearing her, had come over to check on her and had ended up having her go make Rocky's a drink while they chatted. Ever since that first meeting, though, Katy had completely fallen for Rocky. There was something about his smile, or maybe it was his eyes? Whatever it was, it made Katy's entire body feel light as a feather.

To be continued....

[kyber-kisses]

She Burns

Dean Winchester x Reader

Warnings: cursing. . . Maybe? It’s pretty much fluff.

Summary: Dean remembers being 16 years old and meeting the reader, and how she changed his life and became his first love. . . His only love.

A/N: got this idea from the song She Burns by Foy Vance. I highly recommend listening to the song before reading, but of course you don’t have to. Please enjoy this sweet childlike innocence! (GIF credit goes to owners)

Dean didn’t know exactly what sparked the memory. Maybe it was the whiskey burning through his system- or maybe it was your laughter echoing down the hallway of the bunker. All he knew was that one moment he was living in the moment, buried in the usual research and the next? He was drowning in a sea of memories.

One specific memory was the day he had met you, all those many years ago. Long before heaven and hell were normal conversation topics and before everyone was decorated with scars, showing a long and tiring life.

Your parents had been Bobby’s neighbors. The only other hunters besides the old drunk residing in Sioux Falls. Bobby had never told him about you until one day you just causally came waltzing through his front door, waving an old tattered book around and successfully knocking one Dean Winchester off his feet.

“Bobby, I’m here to bring that book back that my dad borrowed for that Rugaru hunt!” You called, stepping into the front entrance and shutting the door firmly behind you. You paused, waiting for an answer- only to be met with silence. “Bobby!”

“He’s around here somewhere. Don’t know where specially.” A sudden voice echoed from around the corner, the sound slightly making you jump before venturing forward.

When you stepped into the front room you definitely weren’t expecting what you saw. A boy probably about your age was seated on the couch, hands bound in cuffs. Your face almost immediately turning up in confusion. The boy raised a hand, waving his fingers in your direction, sealing it with an amused smirk.

There was a pause before you opened your mouth again, calling over your shoulder. “Bobby, why is there a handcuffed teenager on your couch?”

“Cause this idjit kept poking around where he shouldn’t be.” The old hunter sighed, finally stepping into the room to join you, taking the book you passed him.

You bit down on your tongue, trying to suppress your laugh along with your grin. Even you knew that it was a bad idea to go snooping around in Bobby’s house. ”so you handcuffed him?”

“Well unlike you, I can’t drag him over to your spitfire of a mother for a scolding. So yeah, I handcuffed him.”

At this point you had to purse your lips in hopes of hiding your smile, but the boy caught on, narrowing his eyes at you. “It’s not funny.”

Dropping the mask, you grinned, letting out a light laugh as you spoke. “It kinda is though.”

“It’s really not.”

“Oh but it is.”

The boy rolled his eyes, shoulder dropping as he gestured to you, eyes now on Bobby. “Bobby , who is this chick?”

“Dean, This is Y/N, her parents are my neighbors. Also damn good hunters it turns out. She sometimes comes around to help out around here.” The hunter explained, throwing the returned book onto his desk.

Dean turned his gaze back to you in which you acknowledged him by mimicking his fingered wave, a cocky smirk resting on your features.

Dean knew in that moment that you weren’t going to be like other girls. And he was more than okay with that.

The day after that first meeting, Dean was surprised by your reappearance. He quickly found out that you’re pretty handy when it comes to cars and that you knew how to kill almost anything that went bump in the night. He wasn’t the type to make friends so quickly. . . Let alone make friends at all, yet there you were, turning his whole world upside down. Usually when dropped off at Bobby’s he would happily go with his dad when he came back for him, but after meeting you, Dean found it harder to walk away.

She is a little explosion of hope

Never turns the lights down low

She can go there if you want to though

There are no markings on her country roads

No signs that show the way back home

But when you get there, you won't wanna go

It was around a year later that Dean realized (with slight surprise.) that he may or may not have developed a a slight crush on the vibrant and crazy girl that was Y/N Y/L/N. Seeing that their dad wouldn’t be back for a few more days, you had dragged Sam and Dean away from Bobby’s for a few hours along with a box of fireworks your dad had gotten for you while in Indiana.

“Dean, I’m tellin you, this is gonna be fricken awesome. Do you really have so little faith in me?” You quipped, sitting crisscross on the floor of your garage, surrounded by firecrackers. Hand reaching out for the bouncy ball Sam had passed you.

“Do you know how badly this could backfire?” He grinned, folding his arms as he leaned on your dads old work bench, watching you drill a hole into the rubber ball.

“Uh duh. Why do you think I came up with it?” You paused, reaching forward for a firecracker. “Plus, Sam thinks it’s a cool idea too.”

“C’mon Dean, we never get to have fun on Fourth of July. Please?” Sam begged, giving his brother his famous doe eyes and smiling when Deans shoulder sagged in defeat.

“Fine, but we do not speak about this to dad. Ever. You got that?”

“Got it.”

It turned out to be one of the best nights of his life. Sam was happy. His dad wasn't breathing down his neck for once. He got to act his age. . . And he owed it all to you and your firecracker filled bouncy balls that had the three of you roaring with laughter as you ricocheted them around your garage, the suspense of not knowing where it would explode giving him a new sort of adrenaline. One that wasn’t fueled by monsters. Somehow you were managing to give Dean his childhood in handfuls. . . Along with Sams. And he was grateful.

I've frozen over my desires

Covered up in virgin snow

But when I stand beside her

She burns, yeah, she burns

Like petrol soaked paper and fireworks

And I'm burning, I'm burning

I'm burning so deep that just breathing hurts

I'm melting darling and I can't let go

His damn crush on you stuck like glue. He tried to shake it off. He tried telling himself he only liked you as a friend, but each and every time you would come sauntering back in and derail his entire thought process. It was especially hard during the times when you stayed at Bobby’s while your parents were hunting.

“This is gonna be so much fun! It’s gonna be like a sleepover!” You exclaimed, shifting to drape an old blanket over your shoulders, which semi protected your body from the cool of the living room due to your only pajamas being sleep shorts and an old novelty t-shirt.

It was nearly 9:00 at night and somehow you were still full of energy. Dean had no clue as to where you got it. “What are you, twelve?” He mused, a grin taking over his face as he watched you.

You swiveled your head, sending him a glare over your shoulder. “What are you, boring?”

“Woah hey, I am not boring!”

You raised an eyebrow, looking over at Sam who was perched on the other end of the couch. “Hey Sam, is your brother boring?”

“Yeah. He’s totally boring.” He stated clearly. There was no pause before his answer nor did he even glance up from his comic, the younger Winchester just quick to side with you.

“See?” You gestured at Dean. “Boring.”

“You’re delusional.”

Rolling your eyes, you turned back to fiddle with the dials on Bobby’s old radio, quick to find a station that actually played good music. You kept it at a reasonable volume as not to disturb Bobby who was undoubtedly working away in his study. It was only when you gave Dean your devilish grin that he knew what you were about to do.

Slightly bouncing your shoulders to the tune you held out your hands for him, raising your eyebrows.

“No. No. I am not dancing with you. Nice try though.” He laughed, seeing you roll your eyes before dancing closer to him, yanking him to his feet.

“Oh come on, I’m a great dancer.” You mused, pulling him along with you as you danced.

“I don’t think any of what you’re doing would be considered dance moves.”

Even though the whole scenario was embarrassing he was grateful that it wasn’t a slow song playing because then he really would have been a stumbling and blushing mess. It was when you started dramatically singing along to the song that he realized one very crucial thing.

All he wanted to do was kiss you.

She likes to lay under the covers, oh

Pretend that everywhere's our home

Keeps me warm right to my very soul

We get so tangled up, it's hard to know

What is hers and what my own

Vines at the bottom of an olive grove

It was only when your dad and his decided to work a job together that anything happened. Sam had stayed behind at Bobby’s while you and Dean had tagged along with your fathers, hoping to learn something new. But it ended with both of them ditching you and him at the crappy motel on main street while they went out to the nearest bar.

“Is there even a heater in this place?” Dean mused, zipping his hoodie up further as he wrapped his arms around himself, hoping to generate some warmth as he sat on the edge of the bed the two of you had been forced to share. (Not that he minded though.)

A light grin tugged on your lips as you shoved the deck of cards back into the box, dropping it down on the small table. “Stopping being a baby. It’s not that cold.”

In a matter of seconds Dean was whipping around to stare daggers into you. “You’re one to talk.” His eyes taking in your form that was wrapped completely in one of the beds comforters, part of it pulled over your head like a hood.

At that you smiled again, shuffling across the cold tile before stepping up onto the mattress and walking across it towards his shivering form. “Aw, poor baby.” You cooed, plopping down behind him before wrapping your comforter clad arms around him, pulling him backwards into your embrace.

“I’m not baby.” He grumbled, the noise muffled by the comforter making you laugh lightly.

“Whatever you say, Deanie.”

In that moment Dean sent out a silent prayer of thanks for his face being concealed or you would have seen the blush creeping across his face. You were turning him into a love sick school boy.

“Alright, you asked for it.” He sighed, leaning all his weight into your arms and making you fall backwards, his torso crushing you against the bed. You let out a light oof which made him roll off you slightly, finally being able to see your face.

God. You were so pretty. So, so pretty. Sometimes he was still amazed that he was able to call you his friend. His first real friend. His only friend. His best friend.

“Whatcha lookin at?”

Damn. Had he been staring? He had been staring. “Um, nothing.”

“That’s a lie. You were looking at my lips.” You grinned, twisting the comforter around the two of you like a burrito, successfully pulling him closer to you.

“What? No! No I wasn’t!” He tried, trying to fend off the heat rising in his cheeks. “You’re crazy.”

There was a pause of silence from your end before your eyes narrowed, almost like you were trying to read him. “If I’m crazy, then I guess you won’t mind if I do this-“ and with one swift movement you closed the gap between the two of you and slammed your lips against his.

The kiss was exactly romantic like Dean hoped it would be. He hadn’t kissed anyone before and neither had you. It was a mess of teeth knocking against each other and mumbling against each others lips. But he was glad this his first kiss was with you. He didn’t want it to be with anyone else.

But when I stand beside her

She burns, yeah she burns

Like petrol soaked paper and fireworks

And I'm burning, I'm burning

I'm burning so deep that just breathing hurts

I'm melting darling and I can't let go

Dean never let you go after that. Sam eventually left for Stanford and when he did, he told you to pack your bags and go with him. You didn’t hesitate. He was your best friend. Your first love. How could you ever say no to him? And from that moment and every day after, you never left each others sides.

“Woah, Dean. Are you okay?”

Your voice snapping Dean out of his thought and back into reality. Back into the uncomfortable wooden seat of the chair in the bunkers library. Good god, he had been deep in thought.

“Yeah, yeah. I’m fine.” He nodded, reaching for his glass of whiskey still slightly in the zone. “Just thinkin.”

“Oh?” You mused, perching yourself on the edge of the table and prying the drink from his hands, and taking a sip for yourself. “What about?”

“Just how you were a terrible kisser the first time we kissed.” He said plainly, tiring to shoot you a cocky grin, resulting in you lightly smacking the side of his head.

“You weren’t any better if I recall.”

It was hard to play serious around each other. You were still so childlike and Dean matched your mayhem. Sam constantly said the two of you were perfect for each other. . . And Dean wasn’t going to argue that.

A sincere smile took over his features as he looked up at you, still seeing the faint glimpses of teenage you in your eyes. “Love you, Y/N.”

“Love you too, Dean.”

End.

Taglist: (Still Open)

@familybusinesswritingbro​​​​​​​@a–1–1–3 @awesome-badass-cafeteria-sauce​​ @music-is-all-i-need​ @agusdoti​​​​​​​ @callmekda​​​​​​​ @jordangdelacruz​​​​​​​ @orphiceseum​​​​​​​ @andthatsmyworld​​​​​​​ @marvelfangirllll​​​​​​​ @fandomnerdespressourself​​​​​​​ @gladiosamicitias​​​​​​​ @castielsangelsx​​​​​​​ @lxstgxrl-ck​​​​​​​ @tis-i-the-wayward-idgit​​​​​​​ @amendoise​​​​​​​ @phoenixuprisingsstuff​​​​​​​ @ericalynne007​​ @kaitlaitlaitl​​​​​​​ @neerness​​​​​​​ @totallyluciferr​​​​​​​ @supernaturalenchanted​​​​​​​​ @dolanfivsosxox​​​​​​@supernatural-ocs @emptycanvasposts​​​ @akshi8278​​ @defenderrosetyler​​​ @heyyy-hey-babyyy​​

[kittymsmithwritesstuff]

Raffle Winner: Change in Routine

Congratulations to @eggrollgaming for winning my 150 follower raffle! They requested a one shot featuring Bloodhound in their off time, with a little visit from a fellow Legend. I hope you like it!

I also do commissions (x)

My AO3: (x)

Rating: T for Fuck

*****

Removing their mask had a certain religious quality to it that they’d yet to find a parallel. It was not the same exuberance that came from a hunt or a well played game, nor the same peace from the ritual lighting of incense placed at the altar of Odin each morning, an altar they’d taken with them when they left their village. It was a relief, but not physical, a freedom, but not spiritual. Mental, perhaps, but in an unassignable ethereal way that felt like being washed in cool water. They’d long given up on labeling it anything but a pleasant sensation. A sign that home was underfoot.

Home, as it had been for the last two years, was not too far to make their commute unbearable, but far enough someone had to be particularly lost and stupid to find it. A single room cabin with a large rug, a square table for two but with only one chair at it, the other stacked with books in a corner. A bed, a rug, the head of a prowler mounted above the fireplace. Their altar in the corner and shelves of books, more scattered on any available surface. 

The components of their mask-goggles, headdress, cap, and respirator-were neatly laid on the kitchen table. They stripped naked immediately, tossing their clothes in an overflowing laundry basket that Artur liked to sleep in and digging out an old hoodie that dropped to their mid thigh and some shorts. “Hm, tea, Artur?”

Artur had already settled into the laundry and gave a half- hearted croak before turning his head back to rest against his wing. They chuckled, coming over quietly and petting his chest feathers. “Tired? I do not blame you, krutt. You worked hard, yes you did.” He made a quiet noise of annoyance and they chuckled, planting a light kiss on the back of his head. “Alright, alright, rest.” He made another noise, one they knew well to mean I would have gotten it earlier if you weren’t such an old bother. 

They made themselves tea, looking out the window over the sink while the kettle warmed. They had a wood stove, but they’d found the luxury of electricity, so easily gotten with solar because of planet Solace’s eternal summer, too alluring to not implement, even if they really only used it for their fridge and tea. Well, their phone, too, one stripped of any and all capabilities except calling and texting. They’d only ever given the number to two people: someone dear and long since past, and the Syndicate, so they would know if the Games were cancelled and they could sleep past noon.

Tea in hand they settled on their bed, curled up in the corner with the mug on the sill of the window. A new book, a warm drink. Pure quiet but for the animals outside. They fell asleep within fifteen minutes, and would have slept past that if it weren’t for a knock on the door startling them awake. They had their knife in hand in a second. They’d had two visitors in the entire time they’d lived there and neither had been someone they wanted to see. Still, they opened the door, and dropped the knife in shock. 

“Whoa, whoa!” Mirage jumped back, stumbling and falling on his ass.“Watch where you fling your knives!”

They swallowed hard, staring.

“Man that could have taken out my, my foot. Jesus,” he placed his hands on either side and pushed himself up, unsteady, had he been drinking? “I-hey, uh, why are you looking at me like that?”

Shit, they weren’t wearing their mask. They didn’t want to speak, either. Exactly what was the population of Icelandic recluses on Solace again?

“Uh, shit, this is probably weird, uh, hi. Uh. I’m lost. I’m also, y’know, Mirage if that, heh, means anything?”

They continued to stare, washing their face in neutrality. 

“Uh, anyway I uh, could use some help. Kinda lost.”

They were about to point him away when they looked down and realized his ankle did not quite look right. They pointed to it. He chuckled nervously. “Yeah, uh, I kind of tripped. I think. I was drinking. I got blindfolded for a dare, woke up on a beaaaaach-y’know how it is.”

They, unfortunately, did. And they also, unfortunately, couldn’t morally justify banishing him when he was injured. And so, tight lipped, waved him in. He seemed surprised but thanked them, carefully climbing the steps. “Oh man, this is awesome, a nice uh, nice place. Never thought I’d find anybody out here.”

They glanced at him and gestured to the kitchen chair. He sat and lifted his pant leg when they motioned for him to. As they suspected, his ankle was twisted. Thankfully they’d stolen more than one syringe and medkit from the Games, both of which could heal it in moments. As soon as he was fixed they could send him to find his own way.

“Oh hey, those look like the ones we use in the Games.” He said offhandedly, and they hoped the involuntary flinch didn’t show. 

They glanced at him and saw a funny look on his face, but didn’t comment while kneeling by his leg and stabbing above the joint of the ankle. They stood up and tossed the syringe, a little miffed they didn’t hear a thank you until they turned and saw that Mirage was staring at the full components of their mask laid on the kitchen table. “Fuck.”

“So they do speak,” he said quietly, head ducked away but eyes on them. “Bloodhound?”

They pursed their lips tightly. Artur made a confused chirp from the laundry basket and Mirage’s head zipped around, then back at Hound. They inhaled deeply. There was no denying it-as stupid as he seemed, Mirage wasn’t an idiot. Idiots didn’t meet the qualifiers. But he was a chatterbox, and this made them nervous, clenching their teeth hard as the moment built and built, their mind blank in panic. They wanted this to have never happened, but that wasn’t an option. 

“Sorry,” he said finally, biting his lip. “Thanks for your help.”

They swallowed, fingernails dug deep into their palms. Artur chirped again and glided over, settling on the table. “Hey buddy, you’re not so scary when you’re not hunting me down,” he said gently, offering his hand like one would to a dog. Surprising them, Artur settled back, chest displayed for pets, which Mirage granted. He looked at them again and began to stand. “I-I’ll go. Sorry, uh, thanks, though. I-I’m not gonna say anything I uh, uh, I hope you uh...”

They felt a sudden pull at their gut and gestured for him to sit. “You look like a dog’s chew toy.”

“Thanks. Wait, that’s not a compliment.”

“Would you like tea?” Been years since you’ve said that. 

He blinked, seeming to gather himself and slowly lower into the chair. “Uh, sure.”

“It’s ginger.”

“I didn’t know tea came in different colors.” They looked back at him. “Oh shit you mean the root. Well, technically it’s a stem, but...I’m gonna shut up now.”

They wanted to swallow it, but the chuckled worked up their throat to the air anyway. “You prefer coffee?”

“I don’t really drink either, well except with like a greasy diner breakfast, if you don’t have black coffee with that you’re a criminal. Least, that’s what my mom’s always said.”

They mixed in a dollop of honey with the tea, passing it to Mirage. Or should they think of him as Elliott? It was a dangerous sort of intimacy, but it couldn’t be any worse than not kicking him out. Artur squawked. They set a tupperware from the fridge with fresh vegetables and meat in front of him. Elliott smirked. “You’re a spoiled bird, aren’t you?”

“Oh, he knows. And he’s a brat.” They leaned against the kitchen counter, a few feet from him. Their shoulders were tense though they appeared loose. “Little rassgat.”

“Huh? No wait, lemme guess, uh, hm...shithead.”

They snorted. “Asshole. Drullusokkur is shithead.”

“Drullusooker-drulla, drullasoker, drull...y’know, I’m good. Hey, can I ask you a question?”

“If I can ask you one.”

“Sure.” He sipped his tea. “Shit, that’s good. Anyway, this place, I’ve been in this area before and never saw it.”

They paused, rubbing the rim of their mug with their thumb. “Well, I have not been here long. About two years.”

“What the hell would make you move here?” 

It was a reasonable question, all things considered. “What other planet can I build with no permits in the middle of the jungle and no one will stop me?”

“Ha! Guess that’s fair.”

They smirked. “Well, my turn. Did you really make that bad of a bet?”

“Probably. Dunno, I blacked out during the card game.”

“That isnot a good winning method.”

“Nope.” He exhaled in a half laugh, holding the mug to his chest. Artur finished up his food and decided humans were no longer of interest to him and returned to the laundry basket. Bloodhound dropped the tupperware in the sink, glancing out the window that faced the ocean. One could see just slivers of the sand, soft and hot, against the sunset,  a long walk made longer by the uneven ground. They could feel his eyes on them and turned their head his way. He quickly looked into his mug. 

They knew he was looking at the scars. “Inhaled military grade coolant when I was fourteen,” they said quietly. His head shot up, surprised. “They used to be much worse.”

“Oh,” he whispered. The air wasn’t nearly as tense as they thought it would be. “I’m sorry.”

“Ah, twenty-two years and you get used to it.” They finished off their tea, and took Elliott’s mug as well. “Don’t cower like a guilty dog. Please.”

“Sorry,” he sat up again, and they gave themself some respite in washing the dishes, thinking on how they usually spent their evening: tea, a nap, dinner, then weapon maintenance with the radio on, or perhaps a book. A walk out to the beach with Artur to watch him play in the sand. Elliott had been a huge disruption to their routine...what was one more? “It’s a long walk and nearly dark. Did you drive to the bar?”

He cleared his throat, surprise clear in his voice, “uh, yeah, yeah over in Nova.”

Ten minutes away. “If you’re feeling better, I can drive you there.”

“I uh, I don’t really want to, uh, impose.”

Polite to a fault. They insisted it wasn’t an imposition, and after putting the dishes in the drying rack grabbed their keys and a jacket, telling Artur they’d be back soon. Mirage followed them curiously. “No mask?”

“What would you recognize more, my mask, or my face? Besides, it’ll be dark.” 

“Oh! Smart!”

They chuckled slightly, leading him to their jeep that was tucked by a path they’d made through the trees. They strapped in and set off, and it wasn’t until they reached the parking lot of the bar Elliott had parked at that they realized they might have done something wrong. “Do you have a license?” He asked breathlessly.

“No.”

“Oh! Okay,” he said, voice high pitched as he clambered out of the jeep. “Well, normally that drive takes twenty minutes, and you made it in ten.”

“Oh.” They paused. “So I wasn’t supposed to be going that fast.”

“No.”

“Apologies.” They couldn’t help the grin, the joke, “Perhaps our next meeting will be a driving lesson.”

“If you ever want me in that jeep again it will be.” He chuckled, hand on his heart as he backed away, making a show of getting as far as possible. They waved their hand at him dismissively with a roll of their eyes, turned the jeep around and paused, leaning out the window, watching him pull his keys out and toss them in his hand. 

They swallowed, running their tongue over their lip. “Hey, ah, Elliott.”

He turned on his heel, eyebrows raised. “Yeah?”

They opened their mouth, pausing, then closed it again after a moment. “I’ll...I...enjoyed our time together.”

A beat. He pressed his keys, flat palmed, to his stomach. “I...I did too. It was cool to hang out.” He smiled lopsidedly. “See the person behind the mask.”

Something in them warmed and they returned the smile without thinking. “If you are in the area, I promise I won’t pull a knife on you at the door.”

“And I promise I won’t break my ankle beforehand. Uh, again.”

They snorted. He ran over suddenly, digging into his pocket and passing them a sand dusted business card. They quirked an eyebrow. He was gripping the keys tightly. “If you got a phone, y’know.”

“Mm.” They glanced again, surprised by the plainness, thinking that there should be at least one picture of his own face on the thing, but it was entirely minimalist. 

“See you,” he said, quickly retreating to his car. 

“See you,” they called after, stalling for no particular reason until they saw his back lights turn on. 

They headed out, back in the warm wood of their home. They tossed their keys on the kitchen table and got a glass of water before falling back onto their bed. Artur glided over and landed on the dip of their belly as they reached for the knob on the radio, rolling out long forgotten rock that rolled over them, down the bed. Onto the empty hearth of the fireplace, settling over the floor like a mist. 

It drew their eyes towards the kitchen while they gently pet Artur’s feathers, guided them to the table where they paused only a second on the mask pieces and then focused on the chair. One that had not seen company in years, but had taken it so well. Better than they’d thought. They brushed a finger over Artur’s beak and dug into their pocket, pulling out the business card and staring at the number. They gently picked up Artur and placed him at the end of the bed, then took the stack of books from the spare chair and put them aside, pulling the chair to its place across from the other. 

They sat on the chair and looked at the one across from them.

They breathed deeply, placed the card on the table, pulled out their phone and opened up their contacts

[hattibroski]

Fanfic time.

“Oh, hi there!”

On some sunny day, you could hear birds and junk, there was a lot of commotion going on in the refurbished “Partridge Family” bus on the movie lot. (It was in seriously bad shape.) What was going on in there....? Oh boy, looks like the Broskis moved in. By the way, this is not written badly, I’m supposed to tal....wait.....write like that on purpose. So, who are the Broskis? Well... An artist got bored one day and he like, thought it was a great idea to like, come up with 3 new Warners. O-Em-Gee, right? Of course they turned out to be just as crazy... So we have, Whimsy, who is quite a great artist, but she’ll kill you without her morning coffee. She normally wears her T-shirt with jacket and has a big tuft of hair with a blue streak that she’s proud of. Then there is Hatti, who apparently is the reason that the bus is shaking, by bouncing on the bed. She...well...well nothing, she’s an adorable weirdo and knows it. Her choice....pardon....the artist’s choice of clothing for her is a hot pink and white striped t-shirt and overalls. She lets one strap hang down, because she thinks she looks too geeky with both over her shoulders. And her hat... That hat stays on, no matter what she does, because of her bangs. She hates them. They are shaped like a mustache. She tried to cut them, but they grow back in seconds. And I’ll be going back to past tense in a bit, I’m sorry, I’m tense right NOW. Aaand, there is also Brassi. This guy knows how to sweep girls off their feet. Yes, there is always a lot of dust. He lets one ear hang low. (He’s cool like that.) And he has a low ponytail that hangs over one shoulder. His green t-shirt looks pretty awesome over his white long sleeved turtle neck. Looks like he is.....x’cuse me........was just sitting there, reading a book....upside down.

“You guys have no idea how bored I am...” Brassi dropped his book. “This book is also horrible, can’t understand a thing and they drew everything upside down. “No, it’s actually pretty good. You just have to hang upside down to read it!” Hatti stopped jumping and adjusted her hat. Brassi turned upside down and picked up the book. “Oooh! You’re right! The letters look much better, too.

“I DID IT!!” Whimsy suddenly yelled, making Brassi and Hatti jump. Brassi needs a prize, because jumping upside down is pretty hard. “I finally got the hands to look like hands!” She grinned proudly at her drawing. Hatti walked over and took a peek. “Yes, they are amazing...” Whimsy sounded excited. “Yeah, right?!” “But the thumbs are on the wrong side.” Hatti pointed at the hands. Whimsy’s happy expression turned into a frown....tears gathering in her eyes. Hatti gasped! “BRASSI, QUICK, THE COFFEE!! Brassi shrugged. “Sorry, but she drank it all. I really like the part where the ox turns into a garbage can by the way.” “Yeah, right? And they take it to the King and he just plain hurls! ... WAIT, NO, NO TIME TO TALK ABOUT BOOKS! GO....ER....RUN TO STARBUCKS AND GET A MACHA FRAPPUCCINO WITH MOCHA AND WHIPPED CREAM AND CHOCOLATE DRIZZLE!!! DO NOT FORGET THE CHOCOLATE DRIZZLE!!! ...oh, and can you get me one of those lemon loaf pieces?” Brassi got up and stretched. “Sure thing sis....” Then he zoomed off, screaming.

Whimsy was crying a lot and just sat there. “Why is it always so HARD?!” Hatti cleared her throat. “That’s what she said!” Whimsy looked up at Hatti with snot dripping out her nose. “I’m a horrible artist!!” Hatti hugged her sister. “There there.... Actually, do you know why people say ‘there there’ when someone cries?” Whimsy stopped crying. “No, I don’t. Wanna look it up later?” Hatti nodded. “Yesss!” Whimsy started crying again and Hatti pet her head.

Brassi burst through the doors of the bus with a drink, a small bag and a blow up dolphin. Hatti stared at him and the dolphin. He noticed the look on her face. “You don’t wanna know...” He handed Whimsy the drink and she drank it so fast, her head froze. Hatti took a small hammer and hit her on the head to break the ice. Still looking at Brassi, Hatti looked a bit annoyed. “What took you so long, a whole minute?” Brassi huffed a bit. “There was a long line. 2 people. And both wanted ice cubes!” Hatti facepalmed. “What is this world coming to?” “I never even saw it leave....” Brassi raised an eyebrow and scratched his chest.

Whimsy sighed happily. “That hit the spot.” “What did?” Hatti sounded curious. “Well, that.” Whimsy pointed over a target on the wall and some weird hammer hitting the middle of it. “ANYWAY, I feel much better guys, thanks! Why don’t we go out for once?” Hatti gasped. “You mean, out there? For longer than 5 seconds? NO running?” “NO running and for HOURS!” Whimsy smirked. “Also, I’m feeling kinda masculine right now, so...” She ran off for a second and came back wearing a different outfit, which made her look very boyish. ... What? You want me to describe it? Le-groan! Fine! It’s a purple zip up hoodie with a yellow star on it. She’s also wearing a blue beanie! Hrm....anyway.... They all left the bus together and decided to walk to the water tower. It seemed like a great place to look over everything.

When they reached it, Hatti stared up and blinked. “How are we gonna get up there?” Whimsy laughed and pulled an itty-bitty suitcase from her hoodie pocket. She set it down on the ground and opened it. Nothing happened. Hatti looked into it... “There’s nothing in there...” Whimsy waited patiently, looking at her nails, which makes no sense....since she wears gloves.... Suddenly a latter burst out and smacked Hatti in the face, sending her flying. She landed doing a pretty pirouette and fell over seeing stars. “What a lovely night. Is that Venus?”

Brassi picked her up and started carrying her on his back. “I don’t know, sis.... I’d rather get hammered than lattered.” They made their way up the latter and Hatti violently shook her head, then smiled wide. “Look at the view! Never seen something like this!!” Whimsy chuckled. “Yeah, it’s pretty cool! Imagine if you could live here!” She leaned back against the tower and heard a doorbell. Confused she turned around and saw a button. Even more confused, she started pushing it over and over...and over. Of course Brassi and Hatti had been staring for a while, also confused. They all jumped 6 feet back, or at least as many feet as they could, I’m bad with math. Also, it has nothing to do with Covid-19. Hrm.... Yakko Warner opened the door...

[ackermancurse]

Far From Love [1]

Pairing: Peter Parker x Stark!Reader

Word Count: 4348

Warnings: Far From Home Spoilers!!!, mentions of Tony’s death, FLUFF, small cursing

Summary: Peter has a plan to get you back after your 8 month break: Confess his love to you in Europe. Unfortunately there are some minor setbacks.

AN: I am so so so happy that so many of you have enjoyed the teaser so hopefully this keeps you interested! 

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“I have a plan to get y/n back and it’s gonna happen on the trip,” Peter exclaimed to his best friend Ned sliding into the seat next to him. You had been together for 5 months prior to the snap, both being dusted. You guys broke up 2 weeks after your dad’s funeral, you couldn’t look at Peter without seeing your dad. It was too much for you and as much as you wanted to stay with him, the pain was just too fresh and you said you just needed some time and space.

Ned sighs and sets his phone face down on the table, “Peter I thought she told you she would tell you when she’s ready.”

Peter presses his lips tightly together, “Uh yeah well she um did but call me crazy but I-I think she’s ready. Just hasn’t told me yet?” The last part comes out almost like a question and Ned shakes his head.

“I don’t know man… But what’s your plan?”

Peter smiles, “Okay first I’m gonna sit next to y/n on the flight.”

“Second I’m gonna buy a dual headphone adapter and watch movies with her the whole time.”

“Three when we go to Venice--Venice is super famous for making stuff out of glass right?”

“True-” Ned interjects.

“So I’m gonna buy her a black spider necklace because of-”

“How you guys met,” Ned inputs again.

“How we met,” Peter smiles softly before continuing.

“Four when we go to Paris I’m gonna take her to the top of the Eiffel Tower, give her the necklace and then five I’m gonna tell her I love her,” Peter takes a deep breath and leans closer to Ned.

“And then six hopefully she tells me she feels the same way.”

Ned nods and points to Peter’s notebook, “Don’t forget step seven.”

Peter quickly grabs his pen, “Step seven…”

“Don’t do any of that,” the dark skinned boy says and Peter rolls his eyes.

Looking back up to Ned Peter sighs, “Why?”

“Because she needs to tell you she’s ready. I know how much you love her dude but I think there’s a reason why she said she needed some time and space.”

Peter’s head falls into his hands and he rubs his temples. He knows Ned is right but something has been telling him to just go for it. He catches you staring at him at random times in class and instantly look away. He’s seen you come up to talk to him at his locker but walk the other way. He’s seen you typing in your text messages and delete the words quickly.

“Look I really love y/n man. She’s awesome, she’s super funny in a kinda dork way and-” he sees you walking towards him and Ned with MJ. “-shes coming now don’t say anything!”

You walked behind your best friend MJ. You have been telling her for the past 3 months how much you miss Peter. She was the only one who knew that you wanted him back but the amount of times you chickened out on telling him is mindblowing. You were scared it was too soon. You were scared that because of your time apart Peter stopped liking you.

“Whaddup dorks? Excited about the science trip?” MJ asked and you tried to hide your embarrassment as much as possible.

Peter sees you and his breath hitches. You looked even more beautiful than yesterday, you always looked more beautiful than the day before to Peter. He smiles at you and you smile back.

“Hey uh yeah we’re just talking about the trip,” Peter looks to Ned for help.

“Yeah and Peter’s plan!” You look at Peter curiously and Peter’s face scrunches up. Peter wanted to hide in a hole at that exact moment.

“You have a plan?” MJ asks the question you were wondering.

Your attention all on Peter and he feels his mouth become dry, “I don’t-- I don’t have a plan.”

“No he’s just gonna collect tiny spoons while we’re traveling to other countries,” Ned winks discreetly to Peter thinking he saved the day.

Peter’s head droops down, “Like- Like a grandmother?” MJ questions with a laugh.

“I’m not collecting tiny spoons-” Peter starts but you cut him off.

“Because he collects postcards from wherever he goes. Sent me one from Germany a couple years ago.”

Peter smiles at you and you tuck your hair behind your ear. You feel yourself blush. Peter Parker still made you feel the same way when you first met him.

MJ looks to you with a knowing look and laughs again, “Well anyways that was a rollercoaster of emotions so we’re just gonna go… By the way travel tip, you should probably download a VPN on your phone just so the government can’t track you while we’re abroad.”

She walks off but you stay standing in front of the table twiddling your thumbs.

“Nice seeing you Peter,” you say with a soft grin before walking away and patting Ned on the shoulder.

“N-nice seeing you too y/n,” he replies back and watches you leave and look over your shoulder giving a small wave before disappearing into the hallway.

He sighs with a smile across his face. He was going to get you back.

The next day before the big trip, Peter packed up all his Star Wars toys that adorned his room and placed them carefully into a big box. He was able to calculate how much money he’d get if he sold them and it was the perfect amount for the necklace he planned to buy you.

He lugged around the large cardboard box 10 blocks from his apartment to a store that was willing to buy his figurines for crazy numbers.

Well crazy numbers for a highschooler.

As he was setting each figurine down onto the counter the guy at the register only had one question, “Why are you selling these now when you could wait a couple more years so they’re worth more?” He slurped on a Cherry Coke.

Peter gave a side smile setting down the last one, “I found the one… She deserves something special. I’d rather have her now and forever rather than a million of those figurines.”

Later that night Aunt May walked into Peter’s room to say goodnight and before she closed his door she paused. Something was different. She looked around his room. Huh, no more Star Wars?

“Hey Peter what happened to all your Star Wars stuff?”

Peter sat up in his bed and reached to his bedside table to grab his wallet. He showed her a large stack of cash and she sat at the edge of his bed wide eyed.

“Wh-What’s all this money for?” She counts it and her jaw drops.

“Uh I’m planning on getting y/n back by the end of the trip. I-I’m gonna tell her I love her.”

May hands the money back to her nephew and watches as he carefully places it back into his wallet. A spiderman wallet. What a jokester.

She saw the look in his eyes when he said your name. She knew that he adored you with his whole being. She knew he was absolutely gutted when you guys called it quits. She heard his sniffles that night and watched him slug around the house for a solid week.

You were good for him. You brought him out of his shell. You truly brought out the best in him.

She smiled and grabbed his hand, “She’s a lucky girl Peter.”

He shakes his head, “No I’m the lucky guy.”

The following morning Peter could hardly contain his anxious thoughts. He rushed around his bedroom picking which shirts to bring. He brought each shirt that you said you loved on him when you guys were dating. He made sure to bring your favorite hoodie just in case things went according to plan then you could wear it on the trip back home.

As they neared the airport Peter’s leg bounced up and down in the passenger seat while he rubbed his hands together. Wow he was seeing you in less than 10 minutes.

“Peter everything is gonna go fine! Don’t worry too much,” May soothed her anxious nephew while pulling into a parking spot.

The engine shuts off and Peter lets out the biggest sigh ever, “I hope you’re right May… I really do love her and I want us to happen again.”

Peter walks through check-in and that’s when he sees you. He feels his chest tighten and its like you literally take his breath away.

You were wearing one of his old jackets over a regular t-shirt and some jeans. Your hair was up and out of your face. You had no makeup on but you didn’t need it anyways, that’s what Peter thought at least.

Deep in your conversation, MJ nods her head in a sly manner looking behind you and you turn to see Peter. His pupils were dilated largely, neither of you could see it, but they were. Clear sign of being in love. This boy was head over heels for you. He had it bad.

“Oh god he knows I’m wearing his jacket,” you whisper to MJ and feel yourself blush, “I always felt so stupid not giving it back to him but I also couldn’t give it back. I needed it with me. It was the closest thing I had to him.”

MJ rolls her eyes and walks towards Peter leaving you stunned but you drag your feet behind her, “MJ!” you whisper yell, “MJ what the hell are you do-- Hi Peter!”

There you were. Now standing in front of your ex that you desperately wanted back.

You kept it. 8 months later and you kept it. A random zip-up jacket that you borrowed when you were over at his place studying for a chemistry test. If Peter wasn’t already deeply in love with you before he definitely was now.

“H-Hey y/n,” Peter’s heart was beating so hard that he thought it was going to break through his chest. God why were his hands so sweaty?

MJ looked between the two ex-lovers, “So I’m gonna go use the bathroom before we head on the plane.”

You shoot her a look, ‘You better not leave me alone. Not right now.’

She shrugs her shoulders and turns to walk towards the bathroom.

You laugh nervously, “Typical MJ huh?”

Peter locks eyes with you and now it was your turn to hold your breath. He was wearing a blue flannel with a matching blue jacket over top. A strand of his hair drooped against his forehead before he rushed to set it back into place.

“Yeah totally. So uh how have you-- how have you been?” Peter stuffs his hands into his pockets and you switch your balance from your heels to the balls of your feet.

“I’ve been good. Can’t complain too much I’ve just watched Morgan everyday after school so,” you attempt to look everywhere except Peter’s eyes. Not the big brown eyes.

Peter chuckles, “Man I miss that little rugrat.” Do you miss me?

You laugh this time too, “Don’t worry she misses you too. Made sure to remind me to say hi to you… Courtesy of her.”

A silence looms over the two of you. Where’s MJ when you need her?

“Hey guys are you ready for this trip?” Ned exclaims and the two of you sigh. Saved by the best friend.

When MJ finally finds you again you’re sitting on the ground in front of the boarding area with your hood-- Peter’s hood-- over your head.

Why are you so stupid y/n? It’s just Peter. That’s the point, it’s Peter.

MJ sits on the ground next to you with a quiet laugh, “Now that-- that was beautiful to watch.”

You give her a glare but she continues to laugh, “Ha ha very funny. Set up the exes so they have to talk to each other. Well played MJ.”

She shakes her head and grabs a banana out of her bag, “Hate me all you want but you know that it felt good to actually speak more than two words to him. So I believe I deserve a thank you,” she takes a bite out of her now freshly peeled banana.

As much as you hate to admit it she was right. It felt so good to finally talk to Peter again. All those old feelings came back.

“Thank you,” you mumble with your hand in front of your mouth.

“Hm what was that I couldn’t quite hear you?” Liar.

“Thank you,” you say again but turn your head away from your best friend.

“I didn’t catch that sorry what?” MJ you’re the worst.

“THANK YOU!” you let out and she had the cockiest grin on her face.

She laughs again, “You’re welcome.”

On the opposite side of that same area Peter and Ned were discussing video games.

Well Ned was. Peter was still thinking about you.

“Hello earth to Peter?” Ned asks while waving a hand in front of his best friend’s face.

He finally looks at him, “What? Sorry Ned I have a lot... on my mind.”

Ned looks to where Peter is looking and follows it to see you laughing with MJ while you watch something on her phone, sharing earbuds.

Peter had a small grin on his face as he watched your nose crinkle when you laughed. Wow he missed hearing your laugh.

Ned sighs.

“Alright talk to me,” he closes his laptop and shoves it back into his backpack.

If he starts talking he’s not gonna be able to stop.

He starts small.

“She’s wearing--” Peter starts and looks at you throw your head back in laughter, “She’s wearing my old jacket.”

Ned looks to you. Well look at that you were.

That’s when Ned smiles a little. He remembers Peter wearing that jacket.

“How’d your conversation go before I interrupted? Sorry about that by the way,” Ned opens a pack of fruit snacks and offers Peter the bag.

Peter takes a few. Smiling when he sees his hand is filled with the red ones. Those were your favorite. Peter’s too but he would let you have all the red ones in the pack every time.

“Well it went uh pretty good but I was nervous as hell. It was our first time having a full conversation since the breakup. She looks prettier today right? Like it’s crazy how pretty she looks today,” Peter continues to stare at you while you pick out the purple and orange fruit snacks from your bag and hand them to MJ. He laughs to himself.

‘That’s my girl.’

“Dude its normal to be nervous when you talk to an ex don’t worry. How did she seem when she talked to you?” Ned crumpled the empty bag and tossed it into a nearby trash can.

That’s when Peter finally looked at Ned, “She seemed nervous too,” he remembers how you were fumbling with the sleeves of your jacket-- his jacket-- and switching your balance.

You did that all the time before Peter asked you to be his girlfriend. You did that when you first noticed your crush on him.

Peter’s heart leapt in his chest.

Does she want me back too?

Boarding the plane was when Peter felt like he could throw up. This was it. A long, long flight to Venice. He checked his back pocket and felt the dual headphone adapter.

He had Ned help him with a booger check.

He sat next to Ned in their seats and watched as more people boarded the plane.

Everything was going smoothly until, “Yo Parker this is called an airplane. It’s like the busses you’re used to except it flies over the poor neighborhoods instead of driving through them.”

Flash. Ugh.

Is that champagne he’s holding?

You roll your eyes when you hear Flash’s comment. Typical.

“Ma’am he blipped so technically he’s 16. Not 21,” you call down the flight attendant. Flash gives you a glare.

“I’ll take that,” she says and grabs his cup.

Flash shakes his head at you but you just laugh. You don’t mess with my boyfr- Peter.

“She’s lying! I don’t even know this girl!” He rushes to follow the poor lady.

You face Peter and give him a small smile.

You nod your head and continue down the line.

Peter feels himself unable to breathe again.

“Classic y/n right?” a deep voice says and Peter turns his gaze to him.

Brad Davis.

Brad didn’t get snapped so he grew 5 years older.

Peter hated to admit it but he was ripped.

He knew tons of the girls in school were after him. But he pretended like they weren’t

Brad followed in pursuit behind you and he feels his jaw clench.

He rolls his eyes.

“Did you know Brad was coming?” Peter asks Ned after he passes.

“Man it’s so weird. One day he’s that little kid who cried and got nosebleeds all the time and suddenly we blip back and he’s totally ripped and super nice. And all the girls are after him,” they both watch as you struggle to place your carryon perfectly on top.

Brad helps you and adjusts other luggage and you smile at him.

He smiles back.

Oh no. Not you.

“Not all the girls are after him,” Peter tries to brush off.

Please not you.

“No man… They’re all after him.” Thanks Ned. Thanks a lot for that.

Peter feels his heart break a little when he hears you laugh.

You laugh because of Brad. He said something funny and you gave him one of your genuine laughs.

Please for the love of god not you too.

Peter stays watching at the two of you. He couldn’t tear his eyes away.

“Anyways onto more important things. It’s a nine hour flight. We can play Beast’s Lair the whole time,” Ned pulls out his laptop again.

Peter sees you take a seat behind Brad.

Nope he wasn’t having it.

He needed to sit next to you. Talk to you.

Watch the movies that he knew you liked.

This was his time. It was now or never.

“I need your help to sit next to y/n,” Peter whispers to his best friend and Ned sighs.

Not this again Peter.

“Seriously?” Ned asks.

Peter looks at him surprised, “Yes, seriously.”

“What about y/n? She said she would tell you when she’s ready. You don’t wanna push too hard Peter,” Ned continues and he looks at you again.

He sees you giggle with MJ and Betty.

“I just need to know if my instincts are right,” he watches as you fix your hair, “please.”

Ned rolls his eyes for the millionth time. Poor poor Peter.

He had it really bad.

“Ugh fine… But you owe me,” Ned picks up his things and heads over to your row.

Peter doesn’t really pay attention to what is being said.

He’s too nervous to listen.

He just looks at you.

He sees you look over to him and shake your head with a smile.

Oh god what did Ned say?

Next thing you know it Mr. Harrington is moving people around.

“Ned take MJ’s spot. MJ take y/n’s. And y/n take mine Peter you come with me! No Perfume allergies on my watch,” Peter is shocked.

He watches as you slip next to Brad.

It feels like he was shot in the heart.

You giggle as you try to get through the little space you had.

Mr. Harrington starts walking towards the back of the plane and Peter grumbles.

Not exactly the person he wanted to be sitting next to.

As he grips onto his backpack in a fist he catches your eye.

He looked annoyed as he argued with Ned using only his eyes.

You knew Peter didn’t have a perfume allergy.

Pollen allergy sure. Really bad allergies during the first few weeks of spring. But perfume allergy? Not a chance.

What was he up to? Did he just want to finish your conversation from earlier?

You give him a smile and give him a knowing look. His face blushes red and he shrugs.

‘I tried,’ he mouthed and walked to where Mr. Harrington was.

You giggle and Brad looks at you.

Yeah Brad was attractive but he wasn’t Peter.

You could tell from a million miles away Brad had a crush on you. It was painfully obvious.

Unfortunately for him you didn’t feel the same way. Especially not after today.

You had eyes for Peter and only Peter.

“Wanna watch a movie?” Brad asks and you direct your attention to the boy sitting next to you.

He held a dual headphone adapter between his fingers.

You shrug, “Sure. Can we watch a comedy though?”

Peter hated seeing you so close to Brad.

Not that he didn’t think you can have guy friends because go for it. Have all the guy friends you want.

But knowing Brad, he didn’t like how this was going.

The world-- no, no-- the universe was against you two.

Mr. Harrington was blabbering on and on about his ex wife and Peter felt bad that he wasn’t paying attention but he couldn’t stop looking at you.

You laughed loudly and tried to cover it up using your hand. Brad looked at you and you leaned in closer to the screen in front of Brad. Your head inches away from his shoulder that you could almost just rest it there.

Peter felt the anger and jealousy boil up inside of him.

Green doesn’t look good on you Peter.

Peter felt a head against his shoulder and Mr. Harrington had fallen asleep.

Great. Just perfect. Thank you universe.

Scrolling through the movies he sees him. Your dad.

He feels his heart stop.

He quickly looks back up to you, still laughing away.

Did you see the movie too? If you did, did Brad at least quickly scroll past it so you wouldn’t feel the pain?

Peter missed Mr. Stark. God he really missed him.

He missed when he would pick on him every time he was over at your place.

“Parker remember don’t break my baby girl’s heart or else…” Tony would always say.

In the beginning it would freak him the hell out. But once he saw you more and more he just took it as he pleased. Tony and Peter knew that he would never do anything to hurt you.

He was a good kid.

The seatbelt light came off and Peter climbed over his fast asleep teacher who he had pushed away a while ago.

When he walked out of the tiny airplane bathroom he saw you. You smiled and out of nervousness he walks back into the confined place and shuts the door.

He instantly goes full panic mode and literally cleans the entire restroom. Just for you.

Wiping the toilet, the sink, the mirror, everything.

He flushes the toilet again and washes his hands.

He spends a little too long on his hair and smiles in the mirror.

Before opening the door, he takes a deep breath. This was it. An interaction that could at least hold him through to the end of the flight.

He opens the door and doesn’t see you but Brad.

Ugh.

His face falls but Brad’s has a smile plastered from ear to ear. Of course he was smiling. He was sitting next to the prettiest girl in the world.

“Man y/n is so funny. You were a lucky guy Peter,” Brad mentions before entering the tiny bathroom.

“Yup. I was a lucky guy,” Peter gritted through his fake smile and watches Brad close the door.

He throws his hands up in frustration. He can’t catch a break can he?

That’s when the next door bathroom opens and he’s facing you again.

“Well this seems familiar,” you joke and Peter laughs.

God you were so pretty.

Peter wished he could kiss you right now.

“Sorry about that… H-How was your movie?” Peter asks and you look down at the floor.

“It was good. Really funny. We should watch it together next time,” you add and don’t notice you say next time.

But Peter does and he feels his stomach do flips.

He smiles a big smile.

That’s when he feels the question that was on his mind the most since he saw the selection of movies.

“Did you see-”

You cut him off, “Y-Yeah.”

You knew it was coming. Brad saw it, glanced at you quickly and continued skipping through the movies. You saw it and felt your chest become heavy. And Peter saw it and wondered if you were okay.

“It was hard seeing his face but it was almost like he was telling me have a safe flight ya know? Well at least that’s what I-I think at least,” you see Peter’s face and regret saying the last part, “Nevermind that was stupid.”

You squeeze past him but he grabs your wrist out of instinct. You look back at him.

There they were. Those damn butterflies. Those damn sparks.

It’s the first time you guys had any physical interaction in 8 months.

He instantly lets go and coughs clearing his throat, “It wasn’t stupid,” you see it in his eyes and hear it in his voice that he meant it. You smiled.

“Just talk to me if you need to alright… I’m just a few rows back and I could use some saving from Mr. Harrington’s stories,” you laugh and give him a nod.

“Thanks Pete,” you head back to your seat and Peter feels like he can do a flip right now.

Pete. You called him Pete. The name you started using when you guys made your relationship official.

He really missed that name.

Tag list: @hollandcharm // @ghostlysweetsturtle // @imagine-lovebug // @squishychar1ie

[lonelypond]

Parent Trap, Ch. 2

NicoMaki, Love Live, 3.4K, 2/3

Nico and Maki and Dia: The First Date

Dia had mostly slept through date prep. Maki had her in the car seat in the walk-in closet while Maki went through an amount of outfit and coat choices she was very glad Dia was not old enough to count or comment on. Nico arrived on exactly on time, wearing a very sportif short coat and leggings, her hat and scarf hand knitted. The SUV wasn’t new, but was well kept up.

“Hi Dia.” Nico leaned over the carseat, waving, as Maki locked the door, “I’m Yazawa Nico, here to take you and your mom to one of my favorite places. Nico baked those cookies your mom told you about.”

Dia had woken up, her eyes bright and interested. She was making cooing noises at Nico.

Nico raised both hands to her temples, “Nico Nico Ni.”

Dia giggled.

“Don’t worry, Nico will have you Nico Ni’ing in no time.”

No baby talk. Points for that. Maki buckled Dia into the backseat and slid into the front. Nico pulled out, her handling of the car as smooth as Maki remembered. She relaxed.

“So, what’s Dia’s favorite Disney movie? My siblings used to love them and Cocoa says her students still talk about all of them, not just the new ones?”

What an odd question, Maki thought. Dia’s favorite Disney movies seemed to be Maki’s. “Lilo and Stitch, Mulan, Cinderella. Why?”

Nico chuckled, “Interesting mix. My little brother loved Lilo and Stitch. He was never very verbal.”

“Dia is. She says Mama and Lunch and We go now and a bunch of words.”

Nico nodded, “So smart like her…” Nico paused, “Mama.”

Maki was probably blushing, but Nico was staring at the road.

“What’s your favorite Disney movie?”

“Well, Nico likes them all, but Frozen’s the best. Sisters are important. None of this evil step sibling stuff.”

As an only child, and the mother of a probable only child, Maki had nothing to say. Plus, Cinderella had evil step siblings in it and was an awesome movie.

“Radio?” Maki asked, eager to fill the silence. “Doesn’t have to be jazz.”

“Nah.” Nico put her hand over Maki’s, briefly, holding it until Maki pulled back, “Nico has a different plan.”

And then Nico started to sing, “Stuck On You,” then swung into the “Devil In Disguise” with a much deeper voice than expected and a very Elvis like flair. Maki checked over her shoulder, Dia seemed very calm, listening, and then when Nico broke into Stitch like growly, gaggy noises, Dia started to laugh.

“Sing with me,” Nico urged.

“What?”

“You ain't nothing but a hound dog Crying all the time”

Nico kept pushing, “C’mon, you can do it. Dia, don’t you want your Mama to sing?”

Maki was surprised at Dia’s immediate response, “Mama...sing”

Two votes against Maki’s undecided.

“All right.” Maki inhaled, “Start again.”

“You got it, cutie,” Nico winked, and rolled out her Elvis voice again.

“You ain't nothing but a hound dog Crying all the time You ain't nothing but a hound dog Crying all the time Well, you ain't never caught a rabbit And you ain't no friend of mine”

Maki glanced at Nico, bouncing a little in her seat, grin huge as she delivered a note perfect take on an Elvis Presley classic. So far this was the silliest date Maki had ever been on.

###

And now it was breathtaking. Maggie Daley Park in the center of the city. A Skating Ribbon, which Maki might have heard about when it opened, but had never been to. She hadn’t been on skates in years. Dia was spinning, wide eyed, fascinated by the contrast between the snow coating the pine trees, the climbing walls that looked like modern art, and the Chicago skyline.

“It’s gorgeous at night.” Nico had come back with skates for all of them.

“I can imagine.”

“Here, if you sit and hold Dia, I’ll help you get into your skates after you put hers on.”

Dia was being surprisingly compliant, spending most of her time watching Nico, who would notice and grin and do the Nico Ni gesture which would have Dia giggling. Maki shook her head at the silly. The skates were a little big, but Maki was planning to keep a good grip on Dia. Nico had a sleek pink slingpack that she promised was full of perfect foods for hot chocolate after skating.

Nico knelt and slid the skate onto Maki’s foot, winking up at Maki, “There you go, Makirella, just like the fairytale.”

Maki felt her stomach flip. This was ridiculous. How could someone slipping your wool socked foot into a skate trigger nerves?

“I don’t see a pumpkin carriage.”

“Oops,” Nico giggled as she laced up Maki’s skates, “Had to chop that up for muffins.”

“And the horses?”

“Happily chomping through leftover oats from cookies.” Nico stood and stomped around, tossing her head and making a neighing noise until Maki started laughing, then she offered her hand and helped Maki stand. Dia took a hesitant step forward.

Maki knelt down to hug her child, “Are you ready for this, bun?”

Dia pointed to the ice trail, where a couple of people drifted by holding hands, “We go.”

Maki nodded at Nico, “We go.”

“You betcha.” Nico stepped to the ice, zipped off, did a pretty spin, arms out, and then zipped back.

“I haven’t skated in years.” Maki muttered nervously.

“Dia, you want to hold Nico’s hand while your Mama gets her wheels back?”

Nico held out a hand. Having just seen Nico zip around with the confidence of an Olympic hockey winger, Maki didn’t object when Dia took a hesitant slide forward.

“And it’s as easy as that.” Nico announced, then offered her other hand to Maki, “Next?”

Maki shook off the hand, pushing off the railing. She remembered the gliding sensation and the joy of the chill against your face as the motion warmed you up and now there was also the full glory of Chicago, posing on a late February afternoon, sun warm as it glinted off architectural wonders.

###

Why yes, hot chocolate at the rink with cookies dipped in it had been excellent after a half an hour of skating, but now they were in Nico’s office, just five minutes from the rink. It was stunning, a renovated warehouse. Walking into the main space with dark floors and an efficient layout of desks, there was a glass wall and double doors that led to Nico’s office. Two shots of Nico’s first album cover were blown up and framed inside the office, clear glass allowing them to dominate the view from the first step into the office.

“Follow Nico.” Nico zipped down the hall into a small room with a huge window and a divan seat attached to the wall with angled rods. A clothing rack took up two walls. Nico took off her coat and tossed it on an armchair, “Nico’s going to make a quick lunch.” She pressed a button and blinds closed off the room. “Nico thought it might be fun to have an afternoon pajama party brunch so I got a bunch of outfits that I think will fit the two of you and you can pick your favorites.”

Dia was fascinated by the blinds that had come down over the window and toddled over to poke her fingers through.

“Good sense of curiosity.” Nico smiled. Maki nodded, arms wrapped around her chest, watching Dia try to bend the wooden blind slats.

“Too much?” Nico asked.

Maki shrugged.

Nico flopped back on the divan, pulling up her legs and propping her chin on her knees, looking contrite. “I was really just worried we’d all be too cold and wet. And this would be more fun than driving you back home.”

Maki decided to take a look at some of the clothes and pulled off a white hoodie with rabbit ears. She turned to Nico, “Really?”

“That’s for Nico. But you have good taste.” Nico winked. Dia had gotten bored with the blinds and wandered to the divan. She had her arms on it and futilely attempted to get her legs up. Nico reached over and easily pulled her up. Dia immediately sat next to Nico, ramrod straight, staring at Maki.

“Mama dress.” Dia waved at the clothes.

Nico leaned over to whisper, “Your mama’s clothes are very sharp.”

Dia showed Nico both hands.

“Is Dia trying to tell me you already tried on a bunch of outfits before our date?”

“No.” Maki blushed.

###

Maki had been talked into pajama pants with hearts scattered all over them and fuzzy red slippers, but she kept her gray turtleneck, Dia had chosen a navy blue romper with white piping, very sleep over with the Queen’s great grandchildren. Nico had opted for the rabbit hoodie and pink pajama pants with white spots. To wait while she cooked, Nico had led Maki and Dia to a large room with a couple of large sofas, another divan seat bolted to the wall, pillows scattered, and a large screen on the far wall.

“This is where we debut music videos.” Nico announced on her return. Maki and Dia had been flipping through an international fashion magazine.

“Is this your label’s office?”

“This is Nico’s office, no label.”

Maki was impressed.

“Nico’s been working since middle school on building this.” Nico swept her arms dramatically after she put a tray carefully on a low table. “Nico Ni is her own label now, with a K-pop influenced group we’re currently promoting.” Maki inhaled, everything smelled amazing, soup and gooey grilled cheese sandwiches. Dia reached forward for one as Nico put sandwiches next to soup bowls, but Nico managed to block the gesture “These are hot, Dia. Let Nico split it in half for you.” And Nico, after a look to check with Maki, handed Dia half of a half sandwich.

“Cookie.” Dia frowned as she examined the melty cheese.

“Cookies later.” Maki said, sliding forward to pull a bowl of soup near, ready to dip a whole half a sandwich in it.

“Listen to your Mama.”

And Dia settled. It was nice to have someone to support her, Maki thought, another adult voice in the room, not that Dia was terribly fussy. But Dia was stubborn. Nico seemed to be having a soothing effect...no, that wasn’t the right word, Maki thought. But Dia was watching every thing Nico did, even mimicking some of her gestures.

“So what are we watching.” Nico picked up the remote.

“Stitch.” Dia growled.

“Sounds good, if your Mama doesn’t mind.”

“S’okay.” Maki muttered as she finished another half sandwich dripping with tomato soup.

###

“You don’t just seem to be enjoying Lilo and Stitch in parent mode.” Nico teased, bumping Maki on the cushion they were sharing in front of the couch Dia was sleeping on.

“Parent mode?”

“Doing things because your kid likes them.”

“That’s dumb.” Maki twirled a curl of hair, glancing back over her shoulder at the sleeping Dia, “Dia would be able to tell if I didn’t like something so it would be a waste of time.”

Maki’s nose was too close to Nico and too perfect, but at least it distracted Nico from Maki’s lips. Nico wasn’t sure what the protocol was on first kisses with one year olds present.

“Do you want your daughter to only like the things you do?”

“No. But why not share things with her that I do like?” Now it was Maki’s eyes that had caught Nico, with their honest challenge.

“So you watched Lilo and Stitch before you were a Mom™️”

“Mom™️.” Maki snorted and shoved back at Nico with her shoulder, “You make it sound like I opened a box, added myself and some water, and became some kind of alien machine.”

Nico frantically pinballed through thoughts. Had she gone too far, was Maki annoyed, should she have gone in for the kiss, oh no, she was going to start talking now and Maki was giving off this prickly energy, but Nico had never been good at not talking through stress, “Nico didn’t mean that in a bad way, you seem super competent, and probably have so much good doctor info, Eli and Nozomi just…”

Maki sighed, “It was a lot more complicated.”

Maki changed the subject. “I wonder if Dia’s going to think I’m silly for talking to her all the time, once she’s older.”

“I’m sure she loves the sound of your voice. It’s lovely.” Nico noticed the blush.

“All the parenting books say just talking to your child helps build their verbal skills. And paying attention to their gestures.” Maki stretched her hand out, staring at her fingers. “I get that.” She dropped her hand over Nico’s. “My parents are always...concerned about developmental stages.”

“They’re really involved grandparents, huh, At least you have some support.”

Maki wasn’t looking at Nico anymore, but her hand was squeezing Nico’s, “They want to make sure the next generation of Nishikinos continues the family’s tradition of excellence.”

Nico glanced back at the sleeping child, “She’s continuing the family tradition of cute in pajamas.”

Maki smiled. “Sometimes I feel like the narrator in an documentary on single parenting.”

“Not a sitcom? Rin seems like a sitcom BFF.”

Maki shook her head, and dropped her voice, “Nope. Serious doctor voice.”

“So what would serious doctor voice be saying now?”

Maki frowned, her nose crinkling in what Nico realized was the most adorable way ever, “ Doctor Nishikino continued to hope that her date would remember an early promise of a milkshake for dessert.” Maki sighed, turning to Nico, eyelashes fluttering in luxurious slow motion over luminous pools of mischief. “I want to dip things in it.”

Nico didn’t register that she needed to stop staring and start speaking until Maki quirked a perfectly arched eyebrow, waiting for a reaction. Nico grabbed a recent word. “Things?”

“Cookies, brownies, strawberries, french fries.”

Nico bounced to her feet, “I’m going to break out the Air Fryer, ice cream and a blender faster than you can say “Nico Nico Ni.”

Maki leaned back, her arms stretched out along the couch, and started, “Nico Ni…”

Nico swivelled and faster than Maki could blink, pecked an interrupting kiss on Maki’s lips, skipping off with a wink over her shoulder, “Just stay put, Princess.”

Maki, hand raised to tingling lips, nodded, “Okay.”

###

Nico was cleaning up and Maki was watching Dia pull herself along the sofa when she heard Nico call out, “Bring Dia, Maki.”

Maki scooped up her daughter, heading to where Nico had stopped in front of the window. Snow had started, flakes drifting against a bold winter blue.

“Snow.” Dia pointed.

“Pretty.” Maki said.

They stood, watching as the fluffy, sparkling flakes began to fall faster. Nico had sneaked an arm around Maki’s waist and smiled when Maki had leaned in instead of pulling away. Maki lost track of the minutes, enjoying the Dia’s fascination with car windows being covered by white. As clouds scrunched together, gray and darkening, Nico got practical.

“I’d better get you both home or you’ll get snowed in.”

Dia looked at Maki, who smiled, “It’ll be fine, bun.”

“Snow.” Dia pressed a hand against the window.

“It won’t be like the cars, Dia. Snow won’t stick on here. It’s not sloped, like car windshields. It’s flat.” Nico demonstrated, one hand the window, one hand the car. Dia patted the car hand.

Maki sighed, “I wouldn’t mind being snowed in. This is a great space..”

“Maybe when Nico gets back, we can try a dinner date. Nico will cook. You can check out the architecture in my apartment. It's a different kind of great, cozier.”

“Cookies. Cookies.” Dia decided.

“Nico always has cookies.”

“Now cookies.”

“Maki?”

“We can take some for the drive.” Maki smiled at Nico, “When are you leaving?”

“Tomorrow. Tonight, I pack. And do a magazine interview. And whatever else Cocoro set up since I demanded half a day off.”

“I’m glad you did. We had fun. Right Dia?” Maki put Dia down.

Dia nodded seriously.

“Let’s find your coat.”

Dia toddled away from the window. Maki didn’t immediately follow, but reached for Nico’s arm, “Text me when you’re done for the night. I’d…” Maki blushed, “love to talk about a dinner date.”

Nico practically bounced halfway to the ceiling as she kissed Maki’s cheek. But then they both rushed after Dia, who’d taken a turn into a room with breakable things.

###

“Try to take a tiger from his daddy's side That's how love is going to keep us tied Uh-uh-uh Oh yeah, uh, uh I'm gonna stick like glue Stick, because I'm Stuck on you”

Maki had to restrain a giggle. By the final verse of Nico’s over the top Elvis rendition of “Stuck on You” Dia had fallen asleep and Maki didn’t want to disturb her. So she left her favorite seat and moved the conversation to her bedroom, sprawling out along the bed while she let Nico keep singing in her ear. After Nico finished with “Burning Love,” Maki interrupted.

“Stuck on You” is not the lullaby I imagined my daughter would love.”

“She fell asleep. Good.” Nico chuckled. “Did Maki get a bonus song?”

“You were so deep in Stitch mode, I didn’t want to interrupt.”

“Elvis mode. Heartthrob mode. Girls screaming mode. Can’t give enough autographs mode…”

Maki was ready for a new topic. “Sounds exhausting.”

“Um no, it’s exciting. Nico on top of the world. It’s such a rush, connecting with an audience, feeling them get riled up, dancing, singing...I love it.”

Maki could hear the thrill in Nico’s voice. She felt suddenly tired.

“You’re probably leaving early tomorrow. I won’t keep you up.”

“I like talking past my bedtime with you.” A honest warmth in Nico’s tone softened Maki.

“I’m glad. Maybe we can talk again soon.”

“Yeah, it’s too bad my concerts are in Philly and Brooklyn. Nico would love to give you a backstage tour.”

“I’d love it too.”

“Well, call Nico, if you’re in town.”

Hmmmm...could that actually be possible? Her parents were always willing to watch Dia.

Distracted by the thought, Maki’s tone was perfunctory. “Good night, Nico.”

“Oh.” Nico sounded disappointed, “Good night. Maki. Dream about Nico.

“Sure.” Maki cut the call, trying to remember where Nico had said she’d be in a couple of days. Philly? Maki had never really spent any time in Philadelphia. Maybe it was time for some historical sightseeing. She could tell Dia all about the First Continental Congress and the Liberty Bell when she got back.

###

Nico stared at the phone. Maki had gotten distant at the backstage tour suggestion. DId Maki not want to see Nico in concert? Obviously, it wasn’t an objection to Nico’s voice, sneaky Maki had gotten Nico to sing an extra song. Maybe it was too early to suggest travel? Maybe Maki thought Nico had groupies? The fan-Idol relationship was a chaste thing; Nico was there to bring joy, comfort, and smiles to her audience. What brought joy to Nico offstage was private. Maybe she should tell Maki that? Nico picked up her phone and hesitated. Maybe Maki had just been tired? Nico knew single momming made for long days. Nico decided a good night selfie would be the perfect nightcap for the tired, gorgeous doctor Nico wanted to dream of her.

###

A text from Nico. A snap. Nico in a camisole and pink flannel pajama pants, wrapped up in a fluffy pink and white blanket. Maki smiled. Today had been one of her favorite days. No time inside a hospital, skating and flirting with a charming beauty, someone to help with Dia, and Nico had been practical help, not feeling sorry for Maki or fussing too extravagantly over Dia, just there with a quick hand and a smile. It had seemed so natural. And Maki found herself wanting more time with Nico, alone time with Nico, a quiet dinner at Nico’s apartment, no Disney movie blaring in the background, to hear how Nico had pursued her dream, designed her office, what Nico listened to while travelling, what Nico’s favorite movies were, taste Nico’s favorite snack...

Maki typed a quick message.

M: You owe me a midnight snack.

N: ?!?!?!?!

M: For this.

And before she talked herself out of it, Maki snapped a selfie of herself blowing a kiss, unaware that her zip up hoodie had slid down her left arm, leaving her shoulder bare. Instant response.

N: Do that anywhere near Nico and you can have any kind of snack you want.

M: : )

Then Maki took a look at the snap she’d sent and blushed, falling on the bed, silent screaming into her pillow.

[geebird-writes]

Savior

Spiderman x Male!Reader

Warnings: Angst, Swearing, Violence, Abuse, Male Pronouns

Word Count: 1,761 (oops)

Requested by @raziverse

hey gee, i hope you’re doing great :^) is it okay if you did a male reader x peter parker fic where the reader has abusive parents and he runs away? then spider man, being the friendly neighbourhood guy he is, finds a Very Sad Reader walking across the streets and then confronts him to why he’s feeling down? thank you!!

Hey love! Sorry this took ages, I’m going out of town soon so things have been quite hectic haha. But nonetheless, here you go! I hope you enjoy it! 

- gee

“You’re a fucking failure of a son. Are you aware of that?” Your father spat these words at you as if you were a piece of scum.

You stood silent.

Ever since you were young, your parents seemed to care extremely little for you. They called you names, they would belittle and dehumanize you, and, sadly, they would hit you. Your mother worked nights in the diner down the street, and your father worked in city construction. Your parent’s could be considered a “match made in Heaven” (well, Hell, in your case), they were both alcoholics, your father struggled with drug addiction, and your mother could care less about the harm your father caused you. He would do the physical harm, while She would leave you emotional scars.

“Hey, Prick. Are you fucking deaf? I asked if you know you’re a failure.” Your father stood up from his chair, towering over you, the stench of alcohol in his breath.

Your father was a tall, heavy man. His eyes were a (E/C) shade, but they had no life within them. He was decently aged, wrinkles beginning to settle around his eyes and mouth, but in spite of all of that, he had an almost full head of hair.

When you continued to be unresponsive, he took a few more chugs of the whiskey bottle you just now noticed he was holding, and hooked you with his opposite fist. You fell to the ground, still confused from the whiplash of events. Your father stood over your trembling body, pulling you body into a sitting position by your hair.

“I’m going to ask you one more time,”

He dropped the now empty bottle, smacking you with his free hand.

“Do you know you’re a failure?”

You looked up at your father, seeing nothing but pure hatred in his cold eyes.

“Yes..” You choked out.

“‘Yes’ what?” He countered, pulling you by your hair harder. You winced in pain, hissing at the feeling of your hair follicles leaving your scalp.

“Y-Yes.. I know I’m a failure,” you cried out, eyes clenched shut.

“‘Bout fucking time you realized, you bastard.” He let go of you, throwing you onto the floor. He stumbled away, out of the living room and into his bedroom, slamming the door shut.

And that was that.

You stood up, stumbling quite a bit from the blows your father gave you. Once you were able to regain your composure, you walked to your room, shutting the door quietly. You leaned back against it, sliding to the ground allowing tears to release from your eyes. You had put up with this for nearly your entire life, and you were sick of it. You were tired of feeling like you weren’t good enough. Tired of feeling like there was no hope.

So, within that second, you decided you wouldn’t stick around any longer.

Sure, you had nowhere to go, and nobody to turn to, but anything was better than being in your house for a second longer. You raced to find an old duffle bag, as well as a backpack, and begun to pack your things. You packed small, bringing your favorite clothing items and a few jackets. Within the duffle bag, you packed a few sentimental items; posters, pictures of you with old friends, and a couple of your vinyl figurines. You grabbed your toothbrush and toothpaste last, stuffing it into your backpack.

You opened your window, climbing onto the fire escape of your apartment. You looked over the edge, admiring the cool summer weather to match the calming scenery.

“Here goes nothing,” you said to yourself, and began to climb down the ladder to the streets of Queens below.

You reached the bottom of the fire escape, setting your small duffle bag down to adjust your backpack straps. Taking a deep breath, you picked up your bag and begun walking the streets. You zipped up your hoodie halfway and put your hood on to hide the bruising beginning to form on your face. You continued to walk the streets, until you reached a main crossroad.

The sun was starting to go down, letting some families know that it’s time to start heading home. From your position waiting for the wall signal, you saw a family on the other side of the crosswalk, that consisted of a mother, a father, and a young boy, no older than 5. The mother had a wide, beautiful smile on her face, while the father had the boy sitting on his shoulders. The boy was laughing uncontrollably, smiling brightly as his father took him off his shoulders and lightly tossed him into the air, no more than an inch or two from his hands.

You looked at the family adoringly, smiling lightly at their contagious happiness.

And then you remembered your reality. How you were (age), and currently bruised and homeless. You remembered the reality of your parents, and how they mistreat you. Tears filled your eyes as the memories flooded your brain, walking across the now accessible crosswalk. You ran into an alleyway once you crossed the street, threw your bags down, and cried. You placed your head in your hands as you sobbed quietly, being careful not to touch the intensifying bruising on your face.

You continued to cry, until you heard a soft thwip that caught your attention.

You look up, and are met with Spiderman, hanging upside-down in front of you.

You jump slightly, pushing yourself up against the wall a little more. You used your sleeve to wipe your tears, sniffling as you tried to regain your composure. Spiderman flipped himself around, landing on the ground in a crouching position.

“Hey man, sorry to spook you,” The hero chuckled awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Is everything alright? I saw you run into the alley and I thought something could be wrong, and I feel like that theory might be correct.

”

“Everything’s fine, thank you.” You replied as you stood up, dusting yourself off. Spiderman stood up with you,  watching as you begin to pick up your bags. His eye lenses widened as he saw the shades of bruising on your face from under your hood.

“Woah, what happened? Did someone hurt you?” Spiderman questioned, coming closer to you to inspect the bruising.

You backed away.

“No, this is nothing. I told you, everything’s fine.” You adjusted your hood so he couldn’t see them as well, averting your eyes to the ground.

Spiderman sighed, obviously sensing your apprehensiveness. He stood where he was, his hands crossed against his chest.

“Look, I understand that whatever happened might be really hard to handle right now, but it’s gonna be harder if you don’t let me at least try to help,” The arachnid said softly.

You can feel his eyes non-intimidatingly staring you down from underneath his mask, the white lenses fixating on you. What should you do? You knew that confiding in him would be the right (and logical) thing to do, but you felt like you could take this on your own. After all, nothing has really worked out in your favor in a while. Ultimately, you decided to take the risk. You sighed, taking a step and a half towards Spiderman and sitting down. He mirrors your actions, sitting down adjacent to you.

You both sat there for about ten seconds of silence, both of you waiting for the other to speak up. Eventually, You cleared your throat.

“I’m sorry I’m kind of acting like an asshole, Spidey,” You start, but he cut you off.

“Please don’t apologize. From what I can see, something really bad has happened to you, and from what I can tell, it probably has something to do with your home life.” Spiderman’s lenses fixated on the bags next to you.

You hesitated before taking your hood into your hands and pulling it off of your head, exposing the dark purple bruising near your left cheekbone. You looked down, extraordinarily self conscious of the scars you were given, both physical and emotional.

Spiderman’s eye lenses widened until there was nearly no black outline left.

“Did… Did your parents do that?” The arachnid choked out, clearly at a loss for words.

You nodded.

“My dad. He asked me if I knew I was a failure, and pulled my hair and punched me until I did.” You explained to him.

“Holy shit….”

“Yeah. So, I decided to pack up my shit and get out of there the second I had the chance. And now, I’m here.”

Spiderman stuttered for a second, clearly surprised. You could also tell he was quite angry too, because the outline to his eye lenses were nearly covering up the entirety of the lense.

“What did you say your name was again?” Spiderman managed to get out.

“I didn’t, but its Y/N. Y/N L/N.” you chuckled, a small, closed smile painting your face.

“Hey, I got a smile outta you! That’s a win in my book,” Spiderman laughed.

“But nonetheless, are you okay for the night?”

You paused for a second. Were you okay for the night? You didn’t really have anyone to turn to; you didn’t have any friend you trusted enough and no family that would even begin to consider taking you in.

You shook your head, “Sadly, I don’t. I’m all on my own.”

Spiderman looked as if he was thinking; his arms now crossed against his chest, head cocked to the side in thought.

“I think I know a place where you can go. You got a pen?”

You felt around in your pockets, pulling out a ballpoint.

“Awesome,” Spidey stated, grabbing the pen you handed to him and writing an address and name down on your arm.

The name read “Peter Parker”.

Spiderman handed the pen back to you.

“This guy’ll take you in. I’ll tell him I’m sending you his way.”

You nodded. “Thank you, Spiderman. Sincerely.” You said, and you genuinely meant it.

He nodded back.

“You’re welcome, Y/N. Be safe out here.” A soft thwip came from his wrists, and off he went.

And thus, your journey to Peter Parker began.

~

Let me know what you guys think! I left it on a slight cliffhanger, so If anyone would want a Part 2, I’d be more than willing to write for it!

[caelesjjk]

Push (Part 2)

Welcome to Part 2 babes!! Feedback is the best, so leave me some okay? I hope you guys like it!!

It was rainy and cold outside now. The leaves on the trees were starting to change colors and fall from the branches above. I loved walking to work on days like this. I loved taking in the smell of the rain and the sound of the leaves crunching underneath my boots. I loved the way the raindrops slid down my see-through umbrella. And best of all, my favorite coffee shop was getting in all their new flavors for the season and I couldn’t wait to grab a cup before I got to the school.

The little bell above the sky blue door rang quietly as I opened it, shaking out my umbrella and smiling at the sweet older couple behind the tall wooden counter. Mr. and Mrs. Hatfield owned the little coffee shop and were always kind enough to remember my order and my name.

“Good morning, Isabella.” Mr. Hatfield said as I approached the counter.

“When will I convince you to call me Izzy, Mr. Hatfield?” I asked him.

“Isabella is too beautiful a name to shorten it.” He grabs a mug and waits for me to tell him what I’d like to drink, while Mrs. Hatfield is already handing me a blueberry scone.

“I’ll do the chai tea latte today.” I smile and start to hand Mrs. Hatfield my money when someone from behind me pushes my hand away to hand her some money.

“Her order is on me.” The familiar voice says a little too closely to my ear. I turn towards him.

“Calum?” I say, eyebrows scrunched together in confusion.

“Morning, Bambi.” He smirks, grabbing a different coffee from the counter and walking towards a table in the corner of the small shop. I’m left there just staring after him.

“Here you are, dear.” Mr. Hatfield hands me my drink but I’m still not sure what to do with myself. What was he doing here? Why this coffee shop of all the coffee shops he could walk into?

“Well…go on dear.” Mrs. Hatfield motions with her head towards Calum’s table.

“What? I mean no…he’s just my boyfriend’s roommate.” I push some hair behind my ear and pick up the small plate from the counter containing my scone.

“That’s not what your eyes said when you saw him.” She motions with her head again, coaxing me to sit with him.

“I just…I um. Okay.” I stumble over my words and slowly make my way over to the table Calum is sitting at. His feet are propped up on the chair in front of him and he’s reading yet another book. This time, it’s the Night Circus by Erin Morgenstern. One of my all-time favorites.

“Need something, Bambi?” He doesn’t look up from the book, but I can see the small crinkles next to his eyes forming, meaning he is most definitely smirking behind that book.

“Can I…” I look back at Mrs. Hatfield and she widens her eyes expectantly “Can I sit with you?” I finally get out.

He doesn’t say anything, he only slides his feet off the chair across from him and turns the page of his book. I bite my lip, quickly sitting down on the chair and settling into it. I have no idea what to say to him, or how to say it. Calum smells slightly of cigarette smoke and delightfully woodsy cologne. It was much nicer than I wanted to admit. His white tshirt was tucked into a pair of holey blue jeans and covered by a maroon colored zip up hoodie. The curls on his head looked freshly showered and sticking up in a few places, and he was sort of…beautiful.

“You’re staring again, Bambi.” Calum lowers his book and meets my eyes.

“No I’m not.” I try to take a sip of my drink and almost drop it back down onto the table. He smiles wider and shakes his head a few times.

“What would Michael think if he knew his sweet little girlfriend was ogling his best friend?” He wiggles his eyebrows.

“I’m just sitting here, Calum. I’m sorry you’re such an egomaniac that even something that simple is apparently all about you.” I stand up from the chair and start gathering my things back together. What a waste of time this was.

“Sit down, Bambi.” He says, laying down the book he was reading on the table.

“No. I have to get to work.” I grab my bag and umbrella and take a few steps towards the door.

“Isabella. Please sit down.” Calum is standing up at the table now, he doesn’t make a move towards me though.

“And what will we talk about, Calum?” I turn back around and slump my shoulders.

“First of all, you can tell me how you manage to survive the elements with that ridiculous umbrella.” His tattooed arms are crossed over his chest as he motions towards the chair for me to sit down. I sigh loudly and walk back to the chair.

“I’ll sit back down on one condition.” I say.

“What’s that?” He slides back into his chair.

“You don’t make fun of my favorite umbrella, ever again.” I smile at him as I sit back down and he laughs lightly.

“Alright then, Bambi. No more umbrella jokes.” His long fingers come up onto the table top and push the small plate with my scone on it back towards me. “Eat up.” He says lowly. It’s like he has a direct line between my legs, and I have no idea why.

Sitting here with him isn’t uncomfortable. It’s strangely comfortable. We talk about the book he was reading. I tell him that I’ve read it dozens of times and he admits the same.  It was hard to imagine him as someone who read so often, but from my small amount of encounters with him, I was wrong. He asked about my job, and I told him about the sweet kids in my class. He told me he was an editor for a very small publisher here in the city. It was also something I didn’t expect but could completely see the more I listened to him talk. He also explained that his normal coffee shop across the street had been turned into some kind of hipster café and he wasn’t about to deal with that every morning. It made me laugh but only because I couldn’t imagine what the odds could possibly be that this would be his new found favorite place to read and drink black coffee.

“I should really go this time.” I said, looking down at the time on my phone. Just as I was about to put it away, it dinged with a text message from Michael.

Morning beautiful girl.

I smiled at the screen before typing a quick reply and putting the phone away. Calum looked up at me as I stood, the smile on his face not really there anymore.

“Did you tell Michael I was here with you?” He asked flatly.

“No. It didn’t come up.” I adjust my coat and look back down at him in his chair.

“Good. Don’t.” He slams his feet back down onto the chair I was sitting in before and picks up his book.

“Alright. See you around, Calum.” I don’t want to say anything else. Something has apparently upset him and I’m not here to push the issue.

When I arrive at the school ten minutes later, Michael is standing out front with a bouquet of wildflowers in his hands. His head is covered by a black beanie and he’s wearing an all black hoodie with some of his favorite anime characters on the front of it. I try to control my smile by biting my lip and walking towards him.

“It’s freezing out here, babe. What took you so long?” He smiles, handing me the flowers and holding my wind burnt cheeks in his cold hands.

“It just took a little longer to get coffee this morning, that’s all. What are you doing here Mikey?” I step up closer to him while he continues to hold my face.

“Well…” He presses a sweet kiss to my lip. “These are the first of many more presents you’ll be getting.”

“Presents? Why are you getting my presents?” I laugh lightly.

“Your birthday is on Saturday, love.” Michael says. It hits me like a ton of bricks. I had completely forgotten about my own birthday.

“Wow. I didn’t think I could be anymore scatter brained these days.” I lay my head against his chest and give him one more quick hug.

“We can go out on Saturday if you like? And you can stay at my place?” He kisses my cheek as I start to walk up the steps to the school.

“Sure. That would be great.” I tried to say with as much enthusiasm as I could muster.

“Awesome. I think you’ll like your last gift, but I can’t give you that one until we get back to my house Saturday night.” Michael says, his hands gripping a little tighter at my hips. Was he trying to imply something?

“Looking forward to it.” I smile and kiss his cheek. “I should go inside, I’ll call you later.”

“Bye, babe. Have a good day.” He lets go of my hips and begins his way back down the sidewalk.

I’m beginning to wonder if this morning actually happened. It all feels surreal. Seeing Calum in the coffee shop and enjoying his company. Michael showing up outside of the school and basically saying he wanted to have sex Saturday night. And I should most certainly be excited about that part. It’s what I’ve been wanting, for us to go to that next step. But now I felt more…uncertain than I had before.

Distracted would be the word I’d use to describe the rest of the day. There were so many thoughts swimming through my mind. Michael. Calum. And all the confusing feelings that came with them. The thoughts I was having about Calum weren’t right. I shouldn’t be thinking them at all. I was perfectly content with my sweet boyfriend. Right? Of course I am.  A text message ding  from Michael breaks me away from my thoughts as I walk home from work.

Come over? I have a surprise for you.

You already gave me a present today, Mikey.

One more. The doors unlocked, just come in.

Okay.

I took a deep breath and started walking towards Michael’s house instead of my own. It was farther than I’d normally walk but I needed to clear my head on the way there.  I was mostly hoping that once I got there, I wouldn’t see Calum at all, and maybe that would make it easier not think about him. But because I have monumental bad luck, Calum is standing outside on the small front step smoking a cigarette. He’s leaning against the side of the house with his hood over his head.

"Shit.” I whisper to myself as I approach the house.

“Back so soon?” He says as he breathes out the smoke.

“Michael invited me over.” I sigh.

“You don’t seem thrilled.” He raises an eyebrow.

“I am. Of course I am.” I scoff and reach for the door handle, but he wraps his hand around my wrist and stops me.

“Meet me in the kitchen tonight, okay? Around midnight.” He looks very serious as he says the words.

“Why?” I can barely breathe out the word, his hand on my skin is making it too difficult.

“We need to talk.” At that, he lets go of my wrist and steps back, placing the cigarette back in his plump lips.

I felt like I’d had the wind knocked out of me. I wasn’t expecting anything like that from him. I struggle with the door handle for a moment before I walk inside. I hear Calum quietly laugh at my struggle and I can’t help but smile at the sound. Once I’m inside, I slip off my boots and coat and walk back towards Michael’s bedroom. There’s soft music playing inside and I’m not sure if I should knock, but in the mean time, Michael has already opened the door surprising me and making me jump.

“Hey sweetheart. How long have you been standing out here?” He reaches for my hand and I let him take it.

“Just for a second. I was just… thinking.” I try to play off my internal turmoil.

“Well get in here beautiful.” He pulls gently on my hand and I clumsily step into his room.

There are a few candles lit on his desk and bookshelf and another gift bag sitting on the middle of his bed. I feel sick to my stomach.

“You really shouldn’t buy me anymore gifts, Mikey.” My voice shakes. All I can think about is meeting Calum at midnight.

“Come on babe, your birthday’s only once a year.” He leans over the bed and picks up the giftbag, handing it to me with the cutest smile on his face. I smile back and take the tissue paper out of the bag.

Inside the bag is a picture frame with a picture of the two of us from a couple weeks ago. We were in front of one of the big fountains in the middle of the city. Michael’s arm was wrapped around my shoulders and I kissing his cheek. I had almost forgotten we took this picture.

“Thank you, Mikey. This is so sweet. I love it.” I can feel myself getting a little emotional. And not because of how much I like the gift, but because a minute ago I was thinking about my boyfriend’s roommate. I’m a terrible person.

“Aww, don’t cry babe. I’m glad you like it.” He kisses my lips and lets it linger for a moment.

“I really do.” I breathe on his lips. He smiles against my mouth and kisses me again.

It’s just a slow movement of lips at first, and then our tongues start swiping over the other. Michael takes the picture from my hands and sits it down, before backing me up until the backs of my knees hit his bed.

“Do you want to lie down?” He asks, still kissing me.

“Okay.” I need to do this. I need to stop thinking about Calum.

I lay back against Michael’s comforter and he gently lays his body on top of mine, pressing his lips back to mine quickly. One of his hands touches my side and my hip where my shirt has started rising from our movements. It was almost working, I almost forgot completely about Calum and got lost in Michael. But that part of my brain that just can’t seem to stop thinking about Calum and his heavenly smile and perfect skin decided to speak up and I couldn’t keep it up anymore.

“You alright, Izzy?” He asks.

“Yeah, I’m just tired is all.” I run my fingers through his soft hair reassuringly.

“Okay, I’ll get us something to eat. You relax, yeah?” He kisses me once more before getting off the bed and helping me up.

“Thanks, Mikey.” I watch as he smiles over his shoulder at me and walks out of his room. I quickly stand up and wipe at my mouth and eyes. What is wrong with me? Am I going insane?

I happily ate the Chinese food that Michael ordered, but I also couldn’t stop watching the clock on the other side of the room. I shouldn’t go. I shouldn’t give him the satisfaction of knowing he has some kind of power over me. But more of me wanted to know what he had to say. I needed to know what he could possibly want from me.

I wasn’t going to go. I was going to stay right where I was and forget about this whole thing completely. I would lay here next to my boyfriend and not go anywhere near his roommate.

But as the red numbers on the clock turned to 12:00 I became restless. I couldn’t sleep. I couldn’t even force my body to turn away from the clock. And when it was 12:05, I couldn’t take it anymore, I quietly got out of Michael’s warm bed, making sure that he was still fast asleep before walking out in just his t-shirt and my underwear. I nervously padded barefoot down the hallway to the kitchen.

The only light on was the extremely dim one above the sink. Calum was standing there with his back to me with only some dark gray sweats draped on his hips. His hands were bracing him against the counter as he took a deep breath and turned around when he heard me come into the room.

“Don’t you own any pajama pants, Bambi?” Calum smirks, melting my insides.

“I didn’t go home after work. Stop looking if it bothers you so much.” Usually, I would move to cover myself, but I didn’t want to anymore.

“I don’t think ‘bother’ is the word I’d use.” He looks down before he takes a few steps towards me.

“Why did you want to talk to me,Calum?” I move over towards the fridge and lean my back against it.

“You can’t like me, Isabella.” He says.

“Like you? What are you talking about?” My eyes are wide.

“I see how you look at me. How you smile at me.  You’re with Mike and I don’t want him getting hurt because you can’t control yourself around me.” There’s a slight teasing in the way he says it, and it makes my blood boil.

“Fuck you, Calum. Don’t take me being friendly with my boyfriend’s roommate as flirting. It’s definitely not. Not even close.” I move away from the fridge. “And another thing, you’re the one always flirting with me. So maybe you should cut that shit out?” The words come out so quickly they’re barely understandable but I’m so angry that I don’t care in the slightest.

“I haven’t been flirting. I just didn’t want to hurt your feelings.” He crosses his arms over his bare chest and looks at me expectantly. I glare at him and move to walk out of the kitchen. “Wait.” He says quickly.

“Honestly, I don’t want to ever talk to you again. We can be civil for Michael’s sake, and that’s it. Otherwise, you can just go fuck yourself.” I start to turn away again.

“Never heard you talk like this, Bambi. It’s kind of hot.” I don’t even have to turn around to know he’s smirking. So proud of his pigheaded comment.

“Really? You literally JUST flirted with me. Are you fucking insane? No, I’m the one who’s insane for coming in here to talk to you.” I’m almost out the door this time when he says my name again.

“Isabella, just wait.” I turn around to see him standing in the middle of the kitchen now.

“What else do you want from me?” I sigh.

“Obviously, no one has ever flirted with you properly, if you thought that was flirting.” He steps towards me and I take another step back until my back is against the wall.

“That’s absurd, Calum.” I try to look away from his eyes, but it’s nearly impossible. They’re dark and warm and oh so easy to get lost in.

“Did you sleep with him?” He asks quietly once he’s only a few inches away from me.

“That’s not any of your business.” I can barely breathe.

“Just answer the question, Isabella.” His hands come up and rest against the wall, trapping me there with very little oxygen reaching my brain.

“No. I didn’t. Not yet.” I manage to look up and see his mouth set into a straight line.

“Why did you meet me in here tonight?” He asks. His face is close to mine I can feel his breaths.

“You asked me to.” I say quickly.

“That’s not good enough.” His bottom lip goes between his teeth as he steps up closer, his hips pressing lightly against mine.  Fuck, where’s the oxygen?

“I wanted to know what you had to say.” I reply again as more of a whisper.

“You know why I think you came in here?” One of his hands comes down from the wall, and I watch as he brings it down close to my thigh. “I think you wanted me to touch you.” He whispers the words in my ear, every inch of my skin blanketing in goosebumps.

The tip of his middle finger touches the skin just above my knee, drawing a small circle before slowly dragging up. I don’t stop him. I should stop him. But I can’t. I want him to touch me.

“Calum…” Is the only word I can get out.

“I think you wanted me to touch you here.” He says lowly, his middle finger pushing up the t-shirt I’m wearing so he can trace it along the band of my underwear. “And here…” He dips his finger just inside the band and slides it across to the front of my body and stops. “Maybe here…” He starts to slide his finger down the front of my underwear.

“Shit…” I say with a shaky breath.

“Goodnight, Bambi.” I can feel him smile against my ear where he’s been whispering as he pulls his hand away and slowly walks out of the kitchen. I can hear his door shut down the hall before I open my eyes and release the longest breath of my life.

“What the fuck…” I use my hand to wipe at the sweat starting to form on my forehead.

What am I doing?

[screamxqueenx94]

Wolf Moon/Teen Wolf Series- Part 1

Thank you to @mummybear, @ficus-fig and @mrs-mitch-rapp93 ,who gave me the confidence to go for it! You guys are awesome and I love you with all my heart! And to those who are reading this, thank you and I hope you enjoy it too!

A/N: So every part is going to have the same name as the episodes, but they will be told from the point of view of my OC, which means somethings will be left out because she wasn't present and some things will be added. You will learn a lot more about her throughout the series. I really hope you guys enjoy it as much as I enjoyed writing it! And if you want to be added to my Taglist at anytime if you're not already, just ask :)

Pairing: Eventually in the series; Stiles Stilinski x OC! Charlotte 'Charli' Vérszívó

Warnings: swearing, some underage drinking, and mentions of deceased parents

Italics= inner commentary/ thoughts

Charli's POV

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

It was difficult being in a new place. After everything I went through in the past year, my father and I were forced out of our old home and had to move to Beacon Hills after the incident that killed my mom happened. I don't really miss New Jersey too much, but I do miss my mom. She was the best. She was the rock for our family. She always had a smile on her face even when things were bad.

I miss hearing her sing around the house. I miss the smell of her perfume lingering after she already left the room. I miss being able to tell her anything and not worry about her passing judgements on me. She always knew when to be my best friend and when to be my mom. Most of all, I miss how much she loved my father. He wasn't the best at expressing his emotions, but my mom made him do that and when she died, he changed. He became cold, distant… almost hollow.

~

We pulled up to the new house and it was beautiful. It was something my mom would have loved. It was a huge gray and stone neo-eclectic style house with a two car garage, and a circle driveway. My father told me that there was an inground pool in the backyard, as if to make me more convinced to be here, but I didn't have a say anyways. I get out of the U HAUL and walk towards the house. I examine the front yard with a bunch of beautiful peonies, roses and snapdragons lining the front of the porch and hydrangeas lining the stone walkway leading to the front porch.

“What do you think, Charli?” My father asks as he put his arm around my shoulders and pulled me closer to him.

“It's beautiful…” I trail off. “...I just wish mom could've been here to see it. She would love this place.” I continue quietly, looking down at my old beat up high top converse sneakers.

“I know… I wish she was here too…” He replied sadly. “But, this is our new life. We're going to get a fresh start here and we're going to make the best of it.” He continued with a slightly more positive attitude.

I sighed and looked back up at the house. My father let go of me and we walked into the new house together. When he opened the double doors, he let me in first. I looked up and noticed the double sided curved stairs that led to the second floor. Why the hell do we need all this space? It's literally just the two of us.

“There's also a fully finished basement for when you have friends over.” He broke the silence.

I looked over and half smiled at him. “Where's my room?” I ask quietly.

“Take your pick. There's at least five of them here.” He smirked.

~

It was night when we finished unpacking most of the boxes. I carried some crushed up boxes to the curb and threw them away. As I put the lid back on the trash bin outside, I heard a car coming up the road and pull into the driveway of the white house next door on the right side of us. I look up as the door slams shut and see a boy with a buzzcut in a grey cargo jacket get out. After he gets out, he starts walking up the drive, but I may have been staring for too long because he actually stopped to look at me. I quickly made myself busy by putting the boxes that didn't fit in the bin on the ground leaning against it.

He starts walking over to me and starts talking. “Are you my new neighbor?” He asks in a friendly tone. God he was cute.

“Uhh yeah-- yeah I'm Charli.” I answer.

“I'm Stiles…” he holds out his hand to shake mine. Holy crap! His moles are beautiful!

I shake his hand, then shove both of my hands in the pockets of my black zip up hoodie.

“So where did you guys move from?” He asked as he shoved his hands in his jean pockets.

“Jersey. We uh, we lived in Piscataway.”

“Oh cool cool… so did you guys just want a change of scenery or…?” He asked, trailing off.

“No, actually my dad got a new job offer out here and because it's not legal for a 16 year old to live on their own, I had to come along.” I answer as I tuck some of my long, chestnut hair behind my ear, making him chuckle at that last part.

“What’s he do?”

“He's a lawyer.”

His eyebrows raise a bit and he nods. There's a moment of awkward silence between us until he clears his throat.

“Sooo… I'm guessing you're going to be going to Beacon Hills High?” He asks, clearly not sure what else to really say.

“Yeah. My dad originally wanted me to go to a private school, but I convinced him to let me go to public school for a change.” I answer back. “Plus, I'd probably get myself kicked out anyways.”

“You're a rebel I take it?” He asks smirking.

“Only when I wanna be.” I answer back smirking as well, winking, making him chuckle.

We stand there for a minute laughing at how stupid we are. When we stop, he's about to say something until my father opens the front door.

“Charli, come inside. It's late.” he calls. Thanks, Dad…

“Well, I guess I'll see you tomorrow?” I ask, smiling as I walk backwards towards my front door.

“Yeah, I'll see you tomorrow.” He answers back, smiling.

“Goodnight.” I tell him, as my body is facing the door but my violet eyes are still on his honey brown ones.

“Goodnight.” He answers back then starts heading back to his own house.

I go inside and close the door. I have this weird feeling in my stomach. A feeling I never really had before. It was strange, I'm not sure I like it. My face was hurting from smiling so much. Is this what a crush felt like? I honestly don't know.

I take off my beat up high top converse sneakers by the front door and start walking towards the steps to go upstairs.

“Who was that?” My father asked, coming out of the hallway leading from the kitchen with a drink in one hand and a case file in the other heading towards his office.

“Just one of our neighbors.” I answer, trying to head upstairs.

“Yeah? A teenage neighbor?” He asked as he placed the case file down on the big mahogany desk with a raised eyebrow.

I sigh. “Yes dad, a teenager. A teenaged boy.”

“What's his name?” He asked, leaning against the desk, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Stiles.” It just rolled right off my tongue so easily, felt natural coming off my lips.

My father's face twisted. “What the hell kind of name is Stiles?”

“What kind of name is Ambrus?” I shot back.

“Touche… you little shit.” He commented, making me smirk.

“Well, I've had a busy day. I'm going to bed.” I declare.

“Don't you want some dinner?” He asks, holding up his glass to me.

“No thanks, I'll have some in the morning.” I call back as I head up the stairs for bed.

~

I wake up and get ready for school. I take a quick shower, brush my teeth and look through my closet. I pull out a tie dye t-shirt, ripped faded skinny jeans and the same black zip up hoodie from last night. Since my hair is a mess, as per usual, I decide to just do two loose braids and stop at where the purple dip dyed ends begin and then put on my ‘Anti Social’ beanie. I head downstairs and sit at the island in our open dark wood kitchen and my dad is already dressed for work in his tailored Armani three piece suit and tie.

“Hey, good morning sleepy head.” My father greets as he pours me a drink into a mug. “You excited for your first day?”

“Define excited.” I mumble, still tired because I could barely sleep last night.

“Hey, c'mon now, Charli. Cheer up! Besides, you're gonna have at least one new friend right? That kid, Stiles from next door?” He tries to pep me up as he hands me the mug.

I drink it all in one sip and wipe my mouth with the napkin he hands me. I toss it in the trash and head for the foyer where my shoes from last night and my backpack were. I put on my shoes and throw my bag over my shoulder. I'm about to leave when my dad calls out. “Did you forget something?”

I look up and he tosses me my keys. I catch them. “Thanks, Dad. Love you!” I call out as I head out to the garage door.

I walk in and sitting in the garage is my father's black Cadillac CTS-V Coupe and my purple 1962 Volkswagen convertible. I could've had any car at all, but I just wanted to keep this because it was in the family for three generations now and I'm a sucker for sentiment. I get in and open the garage door. I adjust my mirrors, take a deep breath, start it up and drive off to the school. As I drive, I turn up the radio and the disk jockey announces that she's going to to play ‘Lowlife’ by Theory of A Deadman. I turn it up louder and start singing along as I'm driving.

I get ready to pull into the school parking lot, but get cut off by some dickhole in a grey Porsche. I slam on my horn and flip him off and keep going. I pull into a spot next to an old beat up pick up truck and gather all my stuff together. My phone alerts me of a text and I check it.

Dad: Have a great 1st day Princess! I put ur schedule & money in the front pocket of ur backpack :)

I half smile and get out and walk towards the school. As I'm walking, I'm pretty sure I see Stiles talking to some other kid with shaggy black hair, but I'm not sure so I don't say anything at first. Before I say anything, a strawberry blonde girl walks past him when he tries to get her attention.

“Hey, Lydia! You look… like you're gonna ignore me.” He sounded so defeated. I felt bad, but at the same time, kinda happy because now I got to talk to him.

“Hey, Stiles.” I call out. He looks past his friend's head, smiles and waves at me.

“Hey!” he actually sounds happy to see me. Play it cool, Charli. Don't fuck this up too.

“Charli, this is my best friend, Scott… Scott, this is Charli, my new neighbor I told you about.” he introduced, gesturing back and forth between us.

Scott and I wave to each other and the bell rings. We all head inside and as I'm walking I pull out my schedule and try to look for my first class.

“Who do you have first period?” Scott asks.

“Mr. Westover.” I answer, not looking up until I feel Stiles’ hand on my shoulder.

“Lucky you, that's right next to us.” Stiles says smiling. “Scott, save me a seat, I'll be right back.” He continues as he leads me to the classroom.

We walk in and Stiles goes up to the the older man behind the desk.

“Mr. Westover, this is Charli, she's a new student here.” He states, leading me over to his desk.

“Thank you, Mr. Stilinski, I'll take it from here. Get to class.” He says in a monotone voice, as he sifts through papers.

Stiles gives him a sarcastic salute and looks at me. “I'll see you after class so I can show you your other classes.” He smiles.

“Now, Mr. Stilinski.” Mr. Westbrook's voice raises just a bit. Stiles leaves. “Take a seat anywhere, Miss Vérszívó.” he continues as he motions to the rows of desks facing the board.

I take the last available seat next to a tall boy with brown spiked hair and blue eyes in a leather jacket. I see in my peripheral vision that he's looking me up and down. I can't tell if he's checking me out or judging me, but by his appearance alone, it's probably judging.

“You're friends with Stilinski?” He asks, almost snobbish.

“He's my neighbor and was kind enough to introduce himself, so yes, I'd say so.” I answer back without making eye contact, just sifting through my backpack for a notebook and a pen.

“Well, if you ever decide to hang out with a more appealing crowd, you know where to find me.” He turns back forward, smirking.

“Cool, I'll look for you in the feminine hygiene aisle along with the other douches.” I shoot back as I'm opening my notebook and preparing to take notes. A kid with short black hair starts snickering behind him, which makes me want to crack a smile. The brown hair boy looks back and gives the other kid dagger eyes.

“Mr. Whittmore, is there an issue that needs to be addressed?” Mr. Westbrook calls out, making the brown haired kid's head snap towards the front of the room.

“No sir.” He said.

Mr. Westbrook turned back around to the board and continued writing on it. I looked over at the douche next to me and smirked.

~

I started looking for my locker and seen Stiles and Scott talking to a girl in the hallway.

“Can Someone tell me how the new girl is here all of five minutes and she's already hanging out with Lydia's Clique?” the pretty girl complained.

“Because she's hot... Beautiful people herd together.” Stiles said to her.

I chuckled and approached them. Stiles and Scott looked over at me and smiled.

“Yeah, toolbag over there just tried recruiting me first period.” I comment as I point to the guy I told off first period who had his arms wrapped around Lydia.

“Wait, Jackson actually tried to talk to you?” the girl exclaimed.

“Ugh… that's his name? Wow, he apparently has a typical douchebag name too.” I joke.

“What did you say when he talked to you?” Stiles asked, rubbing the back of his neck.

“I told him if I needed him, I'd look for him in the feminine hygiene aisle along with the other douches.” I answered.

Stiles and the girl bust out in laughter, which earns me a high five from Stiles. Scott was really quiet though, kept staring at the other new girl tentatively. As if he was listening to their conversation. I could hear it too, something about a party, but I was mostly tuning it out.

“Are you busy later?” Stiles asked after the other girl left.

“Just some more unpacking when I get home, but other than that, no… why, what's up?” he shoved one hand in his jean pocket and adjusted the strap on his backpack over his with the other.

“Well Scott and I have Lacrosse practice after school, but after we were gonna hang out… did you wanna hang with us?” He asked, almost shy.

“Yeah, that'd be cool.” I answer.

“Great, I can text you after practice if you want?” I nod and give him my phone to put his number in.

“Quick question: what's Lacrosse?” I ask.

Whatever I said triggered something because even Scott looked at me shocked. I look at them both. “What?” I ask.

“Okay, forget texting you later. You gotta come to practice.” Stiles exclaimed.

“It's only the biggest sport in Beacon Hills.” Scott adds.

I think for a moment, then I shrug. “Okay, yeah, I'll come watch."

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

That's where I'm leaving off today , hope you guys liked it :)

@mummybear @ficus-fig @music-magic-mayhem @bold-sartorial-statement @zenawa @stiles-o-dylan24 @cry-btch @maaariiiooo13 @thekingofselfloathing @sporadiccookiebagel @bewarethebees @inschi @awesomeandromedablack @raugsmaug @wil2space @bansheeintuition @mrs-mitch-rapp93

[echoes-of-realities]

be my fire in the cold (and I'll be waiting by the mistletoe) - 13/25

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[From the Start] // [Fanfiction] // [ao3]

[Previous Chapter] // [Next Chapter]

Chapter Summary: Brittany brings Santana a picnic brunch; Santana marvels at how exactly someone as amazing as Brittany even exists.

Chapter 13: but no one is leaving presents tonight

///

Santana wakes up feeling exhausted and heavy.

Her apartment is empty and cold as she stumbles out of bed, wrapping the knitted afghan on her couch around her shoulders as she heads to the kitchen to fumble with the Keurig. The scent of coffee fills her tiny apartment, the Keurig gurgling as it chugs away. The time on the stove reads 7:17 and, despite the fact that usually she would never be awake this early unless absolutely necessary, she dreads the thought of trying to go back to sleep. While her coffee brews she heads to the bathroom and quickly brushes her teeth, staring at her reflection for a long moment after she spits the toothpaste out. Her hair is limp and tangled and the bags under her eyes have only grown darker from tossing and turning all night. She avoids looking in the mirror while she washes her face and brushes her hair out until she can pull it into a slightly lopsided bun.

Her coffee is finished by the time she makes it back to the kitchen, the cold tile freezing on her bare feet, and she mechanically stirs in some creamer and sugar before making her way to the living room and curling into her favourite corner of her couch. She aimlessly flips through television channels, resolutely avoiding anything that is only playing cheesy Christmas movies, too tired to get the other remote and turn on Netflix. She sips her coffee and only watches shows in two minute intervals before she gets bored, nothing able to hold her attention for too long.

It’s only barely eight when her phone buzzes against her thigh and sends a jolt through her whole body in shock.

It’s Brittany, because of course it’s Brittany, and despite everything, a smile tugs at her lips as she takes in the contact photo of Brittany making a goofy face at the camera, her blue eyes sparkling and her smile wide and her freckles in stark contrast to her creamy skin. Hi, the text reads.

Santana carefully balances her coffee mug on her stomach and thighs, her knees drawn up towards her chest, creating a small and precarious shelf for her drink. Hi, she responds, You’re up early.

Well Mercedes started her serenading of xmas songs early so, Brittany answers, and Santana can practically see her slightly sheepish shrug and grin in the words, How are you?

Santana stares blankly at her phone for a long moment, because that’s the million dollar question, isn’t it?

Surprisingly, she doesn’t feel as lonely or empty as she usually does the day before the fourteenth, and she kind of has a feeling that it might be because of Brittany. Mike and Tina have always been there for her in whatever way she needed, but Santana has always struggled with actually letting them be there for her, and yet somehow Brittany had squeezed past walls Santana hadn’t even really realized were there, creeping into her heart until she was breaking down in Brittany’s arms without a hint of embarrassment.

Yesterday night after the show was surprisingly cathartic, and she hadn’t felt nearly as drained and forlorn and embarrassed and alone as she usually did after breaking down. She felt tired, sure, but something about Brittany’s arms around her and her steady heartbeat against her cheek made Santana feel so safe and protected that it had soothed her almost instantly; the fact that she stayed cuddled into Brittany, letting her rub comforting circles into the tension in her back, until the security guard was clearing the building later that night certainly didn’t hurt.

She should probably feel embarrassed, but she wasn’t lying when she told Tina that she likes who she is around Brittany. And she’s also kind of really grateful that she didn’t scare Brittany away or anything, that Brittany seems to want to be around her even when she’s at her worst, if the fact that Brittany refused to leave her side until they were in an Uber and Santana was insisting that she would be fine by herself for the night is anything to go by.

Her phone buzzes in her hands and startles her out of her thoughts. You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to, Brittany texts, I totally get that.

Sorry no it’s fine, Santana answers, just got distracted. I feel better than yesterday but I just want this week to be over.

That really sucks, but glad you’re feeling a little better. Santana watches Brittany type for long time, the three dots appearing and disappearing, until she finally asks, Do you wanna get breakfast somewhere?

Despite the fact that she’s had no appetite since Tuesday evening, her stomach gurgles a little at the thought of food; but the idea of showering and leaving the apartment before she has to go to the theatre is not appealing at all. I’d love to but I don’t really wanna go out in public tbh.

There’s another long stretch of Brittany typing, and Santana patiently waits, sipping on her long-cold coffee. Brunch picnic at your apartment? Brittany finally asks, I’ll bring the food and coffee if you manage to find a blanket? She adds a smiley face at the end and Santana finds one curling her lips in response.

That sounds fun, Santana answers.

Awesome! Brittany responds, and Santana so wishes she could see what is probably an adorably excited smile on her face, See you around 11?

Santana agrees and finishes the last sip of her coffee, wincing as the combination of the cold and the coffee grinds from her dying Keurig makes it taste weirdly sharp, almost alcoholic. She putters around her apartment for a while, tidying up even though there’s not much of a mess; she’s not necessarily a neat person, but being at the theatre for the majority of her waking hours leaves less time for her to make a mess at home. She finds an old throw blanket in the linen closet that smells stale and vaguely of moth balls despite the fact that she’s pretty she’s never had moth balls in this apartment before, and takes it to the living room. She turns the coffee table on a ninety degree angle from where it usually sits so it rests flush against the couch on its short end before she spreads the blanket over the carpet in front of the couch, flipping the corners back flat against the floor with her toe. It’s only nine thirty by the time she’s done, so she finally convinces herself to have a hot shower because, despite her lack of energy or desire to do so, she knows it will make her feel better.

She debates by her closet for a long while before shrugging and settling on some sweats and a hoodie from her college days; it’s not like she’s trying to impress Brittany right now, because not only has Brittany held her while she kinda fell apart, but also because Brittany usually sees her frazzled and dressed in old ratty jeans and a black t-shirt basically every day of the week, so this is barely even a step down from that.

It’s 10:42 when someone buzzes her apartment, and she quickly crosses her living room to answer it and let Brittany in. It feels like minutes rather than seconds until there’s a knock on her door, and she opens it to find Brittany with her hands full of food and drinks. She’s dressed in sweats too, her thicker winter jacket zipped up to her chin and her knitted hut tugged a little too low over her forehead like always, a soft smile playing on her lips.

“Hi,” she breathes.

“Hey,” Santana quickly reaches forwards to grab the tray of drinks from Brittany so she doesn’t look as off balanced, stepping back to let her in, “You’re early.”

Brittany flusters for a moment before she manages to recover and smirk at Santana. “And you’re ready anyways.”

Santana grins and shrugs, waiting a moment for Brittany to kick off her sneakers by the door before leading Brittany back through her apartment and into her living room. She sets the tray of warm drinks down on the coffee table before lowering herself with a small groan; there’s already napkins and cutlery on the table because she was too antsy to sit still earlier.

Brittany drops the bags on the coffee table before lowering herself down too. There’s far more than a couple feet of space on the blanket, but she elects to sit close enough to Santana that that their shoulders press together. Santana smiles at her lap for a moment before glancing at Brittany out of the corner of her eye, finding her smiling softly as pink splotches her cheeks a little. She’s so cute that it takes a moment for Santana to snap out of her daze enough to realize she’s kind of been staring at Brittany for a while, and so she quickly turns to the coffee table to distribute the drinks and napkins and cutlery and ignores the warm flush that starts in her stomach and curls up to her cheeks.

“Where’d you go?” she asks.

Brittany shrugs a little and ducks her head down, and when Santana glances at her, her cheeks are more pink than creamy and, this close, Santana can see how her blush almost completely obscures her freckles. “Just that place you and Mike and Tina always go to.”

Santana furrows her brow, but now that Brittany mentions it, she realizes that the scent filling her apartment is achingly familiar. “They don’t do takeout or delivery though,” she says in confusion.

Brittany bobs her head in a slight nod and smiles a little. “I may have sweet talked that waitress who always teases you guys, just a little bit,” she says, holding her hand up until her thumb and forefinger are barely a millimetre apart.

“Britt,” Santana sighs, and not for the first time she wonders how someone as amazing as Brittany even exists, “you didn’t have to.”

“I know but—” Brittany shrugs again and fidgets with a slightly unraveled string on the right knee of her sweats, “I wanted to.”

Santana just smiles at her for a long moment before she reaches out and takes Brittany’s free hand, gently squeezing it until Brittany’s blue eyes meet hers. “Thank you,” she murmurs.

Brittany’s face creases in a bright smile, her cheeks scrunching her eyes up until they’re catlike and sparkling and the most beautiful thing Santana’s ever seen. “You’re welcome,” she whispers. “I got the Sunshine Special for us, like usual, but I had to get coffee somewhere else since, you know, they don’t do takeout so they didn’t have any disposable coffee cups.”

Santana shakes her head a little and gives Brittany a slightly lopsided smile. “I know I’ve said it before but you’re something else, Britt.”

Brittany shrugs and twists her wrist just a little until her fingers catch around Santana’s and tangle. “I just like making you smile,” she says easily.

Santana sucks in a sharp breath and has to fight every nerve in her body from leaning forward and kissing the hell out of Brittany. It’s not that she doesn’t want to, it’s just bad timing; she doesn’t want to kiss Brittany with the anniversary of her mom’s death hanging over her head. She wants it to be something that’s just theirs, so instead she just squeezes Brittany’s hand in hers before moving to stand. “I should grab some plates too.”

Brittany lets out a slow breath and nods easily. Santana smiles at Brittany making herself at home, leaned against the couch and stuck in place by the spread of their picnic around her. She quickly escapes to the kitchen before she is completely frozen by how endearing Brittany is, and grabs a couple plates from her cupboard. She also grabs the peanut butter from the next cupboard, debating how well she can carry everything for a moment before relenting and grabbing the syrup and ketchup bottle from the fridge, since she’s noticed Brittany likes it on her hash browns and eggs. She hip-checks the fridge door closed and balances everything carefully before returning to the living room.

Brittany’s no longer trapped in her nest of food and napkins and cutlery, but standing with her back to Santana and the rest of the living room. Santana silently places everything down on the blanket before moving to see what Brittany’s looking at. She’s standing between the window and the television, where there’s a small shelving unit build into the wall. It’s where Santana keeps most of her framed pictures, her college diploma, a couple of old birthday cards from her mom and Mike and Tina, and her mom’s old knickknacks that she’d had for long before Santana was born.

Santana doesn’t have to see where exactly Brittany’s looking to know what’s caught her attention; the five framed picture, her favourite ones, sitting just below Brittany’s eye level and just above her own.

The first one is of her mom in the hospital mere moments after Santana was born; she’s exhausted and her hair sticks to her face in a dark sweaty mess, but it’s the picture that Santana’s always stared at the most over the past couple years, because as Santana’s gotten older she’s seen herself in her mom at the same age more and more, in their hair and in their smiles and, mostly, in their eyes.

The next picture is of her mom and herself a week before her first day of junior year in New York; her hair is in wild curls and a baseball cap is pulled low over her eyes, and she’s hanging off her mom, who’s a little older and whose laugh lines are a little deeper than they were sixteen years ago. They both look absolutely exhausted, but elated, as they stand in an empty apartment in Washington Heights, the apartment that would be home until her mom died, each holding a pair of keys up for the camera with proud smiles.

The middle picture is of a slightly younger Tina and Mike and her, Tina and Mike dressed in their costumes from whatever show they were doing and Santana in all black, a headset around her neck; Mike’s hair hangs messily into his eyes from before Tina and her convinced him to cut it at least a little bit shorter, Tina has streaks of electric blue peaking out from under the ridiculous hat her character wore, and Santana’s hair is pulled back in a messy ponytail. Her favourite part of the picture is the smudge of tan in the bottom right corner that obscures all of Santana’s body and most of Tina’s from about the shoulders down, because she’ll never forget the look on her mom’s face when the pictures were developed and she realized that her thumb was featured in most of the pictures she took of their third year spring semester’s show.

The next one is Santana and her mom, her laugh lines even deeper as she kisses Santana firmly on the cheek, just a hint of the Stephen Sondheim Theatre behind them; Santana’s beaming at the camera because it was her first official assistant stage manager job at a real theatre, a show she worked on for its short three week run over summer break between her third and fourth year. Her mom’s expression is overflowing with adoration and pride even though only the hinge of her jaw, her pursed lips, her squished nose, and her dark eyelashes are visible to the camera.

The last picture is of Santana and her mom in her mom’s dining room, in the middle of summer at her apartment in Washington Heights, their cheeks pressed together over a small, slightly amateur cake that Santana had baked and decorated herself; her mom is older and thinner in this picture, her cheekbones a little more pronounced and the dark circles under her eyes darker than ever before. Santana has her arms looped around her mom’s neck from behind, both of them smiling widely at the camera, their hair blending together into a wild mass of dark waves.

“That was a couple months before she died,” Santana says suddenly.

Brittany jolts and gasps, glancing over her shoulder to find Santana standing there, watching her study the pictures. Brittany looks embarrassed to have been caught snooping, her eyes wide and her toes tapping together, but Santana just smiles reassuringly at her. Brittany seems to search for words for a moment before she gives Santana a soft smile. “You have her eyes. And her smile.”

Santana’s smile wavers a little but her eyes are bright and delighted. “That’s what everyone always says,” she says proudly.

“You were a really cute baby too,” Brittany says, her attention turning back to the pictures. “You have, like, the tiniest ears ever.”

Santana crosses the living room to peer over Brittany’s shoulder at the picture of her as a newborn. “Mami always told me I was born with hair on my ears like a monkey,” she says with a laugh, “but I think she was mostly just messing with me.”

“Well you’re the tiniest and cutest baby I’ve ever seen,” Brittany declares, and Santana ducks her head as heat rushes to her cheeks.

“I was about a month early,” Santana explains, “All developed, just pint sized.”

Brittany subtly straightens up to her full height and leans her elbow on Santana’s shoulder, grinning widely down at her. “You’re still pint sized,” she teases.

Santana laughs and swats at Brittany’s stomach with a small eye roll. “Oh, shut up,” she complains, “Let’s eat before the food gets cold.”

Brittany grins and bounces over to the blanket, her limbs collapsing in that careless grace of hers as she sits. Santana sits beside her and passes her a plate as they quietly start dish up their food, Santana handing Brittany the ketchup and then the syrup. She’s surprised to find that the food is still hot and not at all soggy and her coffee is perfect, like it always is when Brittany gets it, and Santana wonders how exactly Brittany manages to be, like, incredibly perfect all the time.

“Can I ask you something?” Brittany says suddenly.

Santana swallows her mouthful of eggs and nods, taking a quick sip of her coffee. “Course.”

“Was your mom’s death— Was it sudden?”

Santana takes another sip of her coffee debating; it’s surprisingly not as hard as she thought it would be to talk about this with Brittany, who gives Santana her full attention, eyes wide and steady on her own. “For me it was. But it wasn’t for her. She knew for months before she told me and I was busy working on some dumb show and she was—” she lets out a shuddering breath. “She didn’t tell me until it was too late.”

Brittany nods and picks at her hash browns before glancing back up at Santana with a small smile. “Tell me about her,” she says.

Santana stares at Brittany for a long moment before she smiles softly, shifting a little until their knees brush. Mike and Tina already knew her mom really well all throughout their college years since she was always inviting them over to feed the three of them and make sure they didn’t starve while on a diet of ramen cups and microwaveable frozen meals, so she’s never had to tell them about her, and she’s never gotten close enough with anyone else to even want to tell them about her mom. But with Brittany’s soft blue eyes on hers, attentive and fond and understanding, she’s actually eager to tell Brittany about the woman who raised her. Even with Mike and Tina it gets too painful sometimes to talk about her mom, and they completely respect that and she kind of really loves them for it, but for possibly the first time in four years she actually really wants to gush about her mom. “She really liked to freak other parents out with crazy stories about emerg,” she starts, “I was the coolest kid in grade one because when she volunteered in our classroom she always told the scariest and most gruesome Halloween stories, and only her and I knew that they weren’t made up or anything. It was like we had our own little secret.”

///

Santana wakes up to fingers slowly trailing over her arm, actually feeling warm and well rested and relaxed for the first time since Tuesday when she realized how close it was to the anniversary of mom’s death.

It takes her a moment longer than it should to realize that she’s curled up into Brittany’s side, her head tucked against Brittany’s shoulder and neck and Brittany’s arm draped around her own shoulders, fingertips dancing across her arm with slowly increasing pressure. She mumbles something, still half-asleep and more comfortable than she’s ever been, and nuzzles closer to Brittany.

“Come on, sleepy head,” Brittany murmurs, and Santana can hear the smile in her voice, “You’ve gotta wake up soon.”

“Time is’t?” she croaks. Brittany’s warm and comfortable under her, and she feels no inclination to move, like, ever.

“Like one,” Brittany says, “I figured you probably wanna get ready before we have to be at the theatre. You’ve been sleeping for about an hour. And you’ve really gotta finish that story about your mom helping you win a snowball fight since you feel asleep right in the middle of it.”

Santana grunts in response, absentminded and content, her limbs still heavy with sleep and comfort. Brittany’s fingers trailing over her arm, even through the thick fabric of her hoodie, feels perfect and she’s dreading going to the theatre today because that means she’ll have to actually move from where she is right now.

“You’re cute when you sleep,” Brittany whispers.

Santana cracks one eye open and glances around her living room. Brittany’s legs are spread out in front of them, Santana’s knees curled over her thighs, and they’re sitting slung at an angle against the couch, Brittany’s head resting atop Santana’s head and the couch cushion. Santana has one hand tangled in Brittany’s sweater, her other one squished between them and painfully tingling as it starts wakes up. “Your butt must be numb,” Santana grumbles, only half of her filter actually working.

Brittany laughs, shaking both of them with the force of it, but not enough to dislodge Santana from her side. “A little,” she agrees, “But it was so worth it.”

Santana hums and lets her eyes close again and just rests there for a long moment, Brittany’s fingers still dancing and tapping all along her arm, Santana’s body moving gently with Brittany’s soft breathing. “We should do this more often,” Santana finally mumbles.

“What, picnics in your living room?”

“Cuddling,” Santana corrects, and she can feel the hitch in Brittany’s breathing jolt their bodies a little. Santana hesitates for a long moment before turning her head slightly and pressing a soft kiss to Brittany’s collarbone through the fabric of her shirt. Brittany’s fingers dig in a little at the move and Santana’s pretty sure Brittany stops breathing entirely for a moment. “Thanks, for this morning,” she murmurs.

“Yeah,” Brittany says distractedly, and Santana can hear the dreamy daze in her voice, “We totally should.”

Santana just grins and nuzzles closer, content to stay exactly where she is until they absolutely have to get moving lest they be late.