#coney island lunch

[the-witchhunter]

DP x DC: Poisonous Rivalry

I know we like to comment on how Sam would probably idolized Poison Ivy, but would they actually get along?

They're very alike. They're headstrong, determined, and willing to cross lines to accomplish what they think is right. Also can be a bit abrasive, especially when you're on the other side of an argument

They're too alike

They would hate each other. Not like in a kill each other way, but I can't stand this person and need to one up them kind of rivalry

so imagine if you will, Danny and Sam (also Tucker if you want Eternal Trio) moving in next door to Harley and Ivy's place in Coney Island. Danny and Harley? They get along great. Thick as thieves and invite each other over all the time, have lunch together, and cause chaos the likes of which make even the gods tremble. Ya know, regular besties stuff

Sam and Ivy? They try to be civil for the sake of their spouses, but can't stand each other. It comes out as petty one-upmanship and they're constantly competing. "I helped raise this much for charity" "I killed the CEO of Polluters R Us" and their gardens? Beautiful! Stupendous! Amazing! They're gorgeous and it drives them both crazy

[jinkoh]

If I can't relate to you anymore then who am I related to?

my centerfold

eric x fem!reader

“Is there ever going to be a right time for us?” Eric sounded bitter. He didn’t mean to, but he just didn't know how to hide his feelings about all of this. You tensed up, your fingers almost desperately intertwining themselves with his. “There has to be.”

tags: slow burn, childhood friends to ? to lovers, hurt/comfort, time skips, y/n is 2 yrs older, kinda rlly bad communication but they figure it out, one (1) suggestive scene

warnings: alcohol consumption, implied mental health issues, eric is lowkey not having a good time in this (but things turn out okay!! it will be fine!!)

i tried to stay away from physical descriptions but it does say y/n has smaller hands than eric

wordcount: ~6,7k

a/n: i think i started writing this when hurt me less came out bc it got me in the mood for something angsty and then it somehow turned into a songfic for 'coney island' instead. and ofc it's still angsty bc there is nothing i love more than writing pain :)) anyway i hope you enjoy~

Masterlist

17

Being seventeen sucked. Because seventeen had Eric sitting in his tree house, by himself, picking apart the old bleached out rug. Seventeen had him eating lunch with his friends, except you'd decided not to be a part of them anymore, sitting with Hyunjae and Juyeon instead. Which, to be fair, made sense because they were in the same grade and Eric wasn’t but that hadn’t stopped you before so why did it now?

Seventeen had him going to the arcade, trying over and over to win that silly plastic ring from the claw machine, as if it could fix anything, as if he still had anyone to give it to. Seventeen had him watching you graduate and it was stupid how pretty you looked in that black robe, as you left him and all your shared memories behind. He wanted to take a picture with you, he'd always naturally assumed you would, but you hadn't spoken in weeks and Eric was too much of a coward to start now. So he watched you from afar, radiant smile on your face as you stood with your family that he knew so well it felt like it was his own. And yet he didn't belong there anymore. And yet, you didn’t want him there anymore.

He rode his bike home after the ceremony, mindlessly throwing it onto the lawn before he climbed up the wooden steps to his tree house. He'd spent so much time here with you that sometimes he forgot it was his and not yours. He remembered you sitting on the patchwork of rugs and carpet squares with him, laughing bright as the sun at some silly joke of  his. You're funny, you'd said, wiping away tears from the corners of your eyes, and he'd never liked himself more than in that moment, with you giggling about his antics. Eric wondered if maybe you'd changed your mind and the parts of him you'd thought of as funny before had become annoying and childish. He wasn't that much younger but maybe the age difference had become all you could see, Eric just a kid that wouldn't be able to relate to the things ahead of you. He thought about the way you'd looked at him the last time you'd been up here together. There'd been something in your eyes that Eric had interpreted as love, but then your expression had shifted and you'd left and you hadn’t come back since.

Sitting all alone in the tree house, pointlessly overthinking all your possible reasons, he sort of regretted ever taking you up the brittle ladder. This tree house was supposed to be his safe space, but it felt looming and empty now. Where was he supposed to find comfort, if every possible source of comfort that he knew somehow tied back to you? Maybe he'd shared too much with you, given too much of himself, because now that you were leaving, what was there that you wouldn't take with you? What would be left behind with him, of him, once you were gone? He didn’t want to find out but it wasn’t looking like he had much of a choice.

19

Nineteen had Eric on top of the world. He’d surprised everyone by staying in town for college while most of his friends—including his best friend Sunwoo—didn’t, but it’d felt like the right thing to do. Of course, his plans used to be different, but the reason behind those plans, being together with you, had disappeared. Maybe it looked sad or pathetic from the outside, staying behind while everyone was leaving, but it didn’t feel that way to Eric. Because for once this had been a decision he’d made just for himself. And it'd proved to be the right one. Eric loved college, he loved his classes and he wasn’t lonely either. He'd never struggled to make new friends, so he’d found his people right on the first day, clicking with them so easily as if he’d known them forever. He’d met his girlfriend that way too and they’d been going strong for three months now. She was bold and bubbly and the type of person who made life feel good and easy. He liked her. 

He liked her enough not to think about you anymore, except for the brief moments when he did. But even then it didn’t come with the same burst of emotion as it used to. He’d been so heartbroken back then, and then after the heartbreak there'd been this burning anger about the way you’d never told him why you cut him off. But now all that was left was a sense of bittersweet nostalgia.

The nostalgia overcame him again, when he entered the arcade with his friends. None of them came from this town, so they didn't have any memories about this place. It was just an arcade to them, so it would have been weird to decline when they'd asked Eric if he was up for going. And why would he decline either way? Sure, he hadn’t gone to the arcade in a long time, eventually leaving it behind like so many places he'd associated with you. But he was okay now. 

Or maybe he wasn’t, because once inside he naturally found himself in front of the claw machine again. After all this time the silly little plastic ring was still the same, taunting him from the display of prices to be won. He threw in a coin and then another and another.

"What are you trying to win so desperately?" His girlfriend asked with a giggle, as she came up to him from behind. 

"Uh, nothing really."

"Nothing?" She tilted her head.

"It's a little stupid," he admitted, "but I've always wanted to get that ring. I never managed, so I can't help but try when I see it."

"That's cute though. I’m rooting for you," she said, giving him a little peck on the cheek. Eric felt guilty, as if he was keeping a secret from her.

"Will you give it to me, if you do win it?" 

He hesitated for a moment too long before replying. "Of course. But I doubt I will."

She didn’t take much notice of his faltering and just gave him another peck before she disappeared elsewhere to play a racing game.

Eric got a bunch of key charms that day. Until, suddenly, when he popped open another plastic ball, there wasn’t a key charm inside. He stared at the ring with something akin to confusion. He'd tried so often back then and never succeeded, so a part of him had started to believe it wasn’t actually possible. But here it was, right there in his palm, two years late and looking cheaper up close. In the end it was just a piece of plastic, he supposed. He slipped it into his pocket. When his girlfriend asked later, he told her about the key charms and let her choose one of them before dividing the rest among his friends. The ring stayed hidden in his pocket, a secret heavier than the colorful plastic it was made of. 

He turned the ring between his fingers later that night, lying awake with useless thoughts. That day in the arcade, when he’d failed to get the ring for you was when it’d all gone down the drain. You’d hung out at the arcade a lot back then, you and Eric and Sunwoo and Haknyeon and Hyunjae and whoever else had been in the mood. There hadn’t been anything special about that day; you’d joked around like always, teasing him about not winning anything. “Just watch me,” he’d shot back, trying to defend his pride. “Tell me what you want and I’ll win it for you.” “The ring. From the claw machine," you'd replied and to this day Eric didn’t understand why you’d chosen that of all things. He’d agreed though, telling you it was easy; only to get nothing but a bunch of key charms and a necklace. He’d wasted a ton of coins trying to get it for you, even after that day, even after you were no longer speaking. But now that he finally had it, it felt underwhelming. It was tiny, probably meant for children with the way it didn’t even fit his pinky. Then again, your hands were smaller than his. Not that he’d ever gotten to hold them, but he remembered from the way you’d grabbed the front of his T-shirt the very same day. It was stupid that he could still recall such a silly detail. He should be remembering other things instead, like how it’d felt when your lips crashed into his, but the touch had been so brief and so surprising, he had barely registered it had happened at all when you were already pushing him away again. It’d been his first kiss, so he thought he should be remembering it better, but what came to mind was always the moment right before, when you’d looked at him with fondness, and then the moment right after when there’d been terror in your eyes, a look of reproach. As if he’d been the one to cross that line, when really, it was you. You had grabbed his shirt and you had kissed him first. So why was he treated like he'd been the one who’d made the mistake? 

And why was it a mistake anyway? 

17

“This is pretty cute too,” you said when you were sitting in his tree house together, holding up the necklace that was sparkling in the light of the evening sun that came in through the window. “Of course it’s not a ring, but yanno, can’t have it all.”

Everyone had gone home, but you’d naturally gone back with Eric. He hadn’t questioned it because you always did that, treating his home like your own. And it wasn’t like he wanted you to leave.

“If you don’t like it, give it back,” he complained with a pout, trying to snatch the necklace from you, but you quickly held it out of reach.

“Nope, never. You already gave it to me, so it’s mine now.” You turned your back to him, pushing your hair to the side and holding the necklace around your neck for him to close. “Help me put it on?”

There shouldn’t have been anything weird or special about this, but Eric’s hands trembled and it took him three attempts to finally get it right.

“Maybe a necklace is better,” you’d said as you turned back around to him, brushing over the little pendant, cheap metal against the skin between your collarbones. “I’m too young to get married and I’m sure there are other people you’d prefer giving rings to anyway.”

He should have made a silly comment now, agreeing that just the thought of marrying you was grossing him out. But it didn’t. It actually sounded pretty good to him. 

“No,” he mumbled without making eye contact. “I wouldn’t have minded giving it to you.”

You didn’t reply, and it made him realize that he’d probably fucked up. He shouldn’t have said that. He looked up, searching his brain for a stupid joke to lighten up the mood, but when he met your gaze you looked flustered.

“Really?” your voice was quiet.

“Yeah.”

“Win it for me next time then.”

Eric felt his skin tingle at your words, helplessly trying to figure out if you were fucking with him right now or if all of this meant what he thought it did. “Okay,” he pressed out, because what else was he going to say if the girl he liked asked him for a ring?

For a moment you just looked at him, but then you grabbed his shirt, your fingers wrapping around the fabric to pull him in, and Eric in his surprise almost toppled forward. Except he didn’t because then there were your lips on his that stopped him from falling.

The fall only came after, when you dashed out and completely stopped talking to him.

21

Twenty-one wasn't what Eric thought it would be. That feeling of being undefeatable that had empowered him at nineteen seemed to be completely used up now. Instead  the teenage angst had come back with full force, making him feel more miserable and anxious than ever. Of course he wasn’t actually a teenager anymore, but calling it teenage angst was less frightening than calling it depression and it wasn't like he was seeing anyone about it anyway. As long as he didn’t have a diagnosis he didn’t have an actual problem. It was just a little losing streak, but he'd be back on his game in a bit. He just had a lot to deal with right now, like how college was harder than it'd felt at the beginning. Or how his girlfriend had broken up with him a few months ago and he hadn’t dated since. It was fine though, it was better that way. She deserved better. After all, even now he wasn’t sure if he missed her or if he just missed being with someone. But simply knowing it'd been the right choice didn't take away that looming feeling of loneliness in his bones. 

Of course he had friends that cared about him, but they were her friends too and even though they'd separated amicably, he felt awkward and detached. He didn’t know how to open up to them anymore, or maybe he'd never really opened up to them from the start. More often than not he wished that he'd gone to the same college as Sunwoo after all. Surely, he'd be feeling better then. Because despite his teasing and feigned annoyance, Sunwoo was his best friend and the person he relied on the most. Except that felt so much harder to do with distance between them and Eric couldn’t shake off the fear of becoming a burden if he told Sunwoo just how miserable he was feeling. So, he was somehow dealing with it by himself, mostly relying on the hope that it would eventually pass and that maybe he would wake up some day and feel okay again.

Today wasn’t the day though, he realized as he stood at the grocery store without his shopping list and only fragmentary memories of what he’d been meaning to buy. He was ruffling his hair in frustration in the dairy section, trying to remember if milk was needed or not, when he suddenly got pulled out of his thoughts.

“Eric, right?”

When he turned around he found Hyunjae standing in front of him, four years older than the last time he’d seen him and yet unmistakably the same. 

“It’s Hyunjae,” he unnecessarily explained with a bright smile when Eric didn’t respond immediately.

“Yeah, of course, I remember.” Eric tried to return his smile, but he felt too conscious of himself, too uncomfortable in his own skin and the hoodie that he hadn’t washed in too long.

“Are you also back for spring break?”

There was no reason to feel embarrassed about it, but somehow Eric felt small when he admitted that he had never left town. He'd never felt ashamed of that a year or two ago. 

“Really?” Hyunjae looked surprised, but there was no judgment there at all. “I always thought you’d go to the same school as y/n. The two of you were attached at the hip back then.” He chuckled. “But I guess you had your own plans. Good for you though! Hope life’s been treating you well?”

“Oh, totally,” Eric lied with a smile. “It’s going great. What about you?”

“Yeah, same, but I’m glad it’s spring break now. I’m actually buying some stuff for the weekend,” he nodded towards his cart, loaded with beer and liquor and meat. “Throwing a party since a lot of the guys from school are back right now—,” he interrupted himself for a second. “Actually, you should come. If you’re free on Friday."

“Sure,” Eric nodded, “I’ll stop by if I find the time.” There was no reason to think he wouldn’t, there were no other plans to speak of, but he wanted to keep himself the option of showing up.

“Nice,” Hyunjae grinned. He seemed genuinely pleased about the prospect of Eric coming, but maybe that had more to do with Hyunjae being a nice, sociable guy, rather than how he felt about Eric specifically. Still, it was nice to be invited somewhere. 

“I’ll see you on Friday then,” he added, lightly patting Eric on the back before getting back to his cart.

“Yeah,” Eric gave him a small wave. “See you then.”

Eric was convinced he wouldn’t go to the party. He still thought so until Friday evening, when he was chilling on the couch fumbling with a rubix cube and came to the depressing realization that he hadn’t done anything all week and wasn’t going to do anything on the weekend either.  The thought of that made him feel miserable and like a stranger to himself. He wasn’t the type of person to stay at home by himself all week, letting spring break pass by without any memories to speak of. He had to think of Hyunjae’s invitation then and he decided to go. After all, if he wanted things to be different, he’d have to do something about it. And he liked going to parties, didn’t he? Maybe he hadn’t been to one in a while but he assumed it was like riding a bicycle, surely he’d be back in his element once he arrived. So, he slipped on some fresh clothes, did his hair, and made his way over to Hyunjae’s, fashionably late of course.

Rather than ringing the bell, he headed straight for the garden, where he heard the sound of music and laughter. The party was in full swing already, the atmosphere light and happy, making it easy to blend in and make small talk here and there. Eric didn’t remember everyone’s names, but he did recognize a bunch of faces and it seemed like almost everyone remembered him to some extent. It was a nice feeling to know he’d left enough of an impression on all these people from school for them to still have positive memories about him. Of course, none of the conversations he had were all that deep and meaningful, but after distancing himself from people for weeks now and constantly worrying about being a burden to those around him, it was a relief to see that people did seem to like having him around. 

He was starting to loosen up, feeling lighter and happier than he’d been in weeks. Surely the alcohol was doing its part too, but Eric was convinced it was more than that. The evening felt like a turning point, like the kick of motivation he’d needed to work on getting better again. Maybe he was being a little delusional.

Just when he was about to open another bottle of beer, a voice made him stop in his tracks.

“Eric?”

You hadn’t even been all that loud, but he felt like the noise of the party—the music, the chatter, the laughter—all of it had suddenly diminished to a faint background noise at the call of your voice. 

He hadn’t heard it in years, but there was no doubt in his mind it was yours. The time apart could never erase all the time spent together, your voice ingrained in his memory like a melody from his youth. 

Eric didn’t turn around immediately. Instead he resumed opening the bottle first, using the brief moment to try and collect himself. It wasn’t really working. He hadn’t expected to meet you here. In hindsight that’d been pretty stupid, but hindsight wasn’t really helping him now.

He swallowed around the lump in his throat before finally turning around to face you. “Y/n.” He didn’t know what face he was making. Was he smiling? He wanted to smile.

“It’s been a while.” You were smiling. It was a little timid, as if you weren’t sure if Eric would want you to talk to him, but it was a smile nevertheless. He was glad somehow, that there didn’t seem to be any hard feelings on your side. A part of him had always feared that you’d come to hate him.

“Yeah.”

“Do you maybe—,” you were fumbling with the pendant of your necklace. It looked expensive, or at least more expensive than the one he’d gotten you from the arcade. He pointlessly wondered if you still had it. “Do you wanna go for a walk? Or something?”

“Sure.” It was an automatic response that came out before he had the chance to consider if he actually wanted to. But when you both set foot onto the pavement and slowly distanced yourselves from Hyunjaes house, Eric thought that he did want to.

It was quiet for a bit so Eric said “Hyunjae invited me,” both to fill the silence and because he thought you could be confused about his attendance at the party.

“Yeah, he told me.”

Somehow Eric felt weird about that. He wasn’t sure if it was the fact that the two of them had talked about him, or the fact that they’d talked at all. “Are you still close?” It was a stupid question. Eric could already guess the answer and he didn’t actually want to hear it. A very uncalled for jealousy crept up in his stomach.

“Yes. I mean, not to that extent—we’re not living in the same city—but we’ve kept in touch.”

“That’s nice,” Eric replied and he wanted to mean it but all he could think was ‘why didn’t you keep in touch with me?’

You turned a corner, entering a playground that was deserted at this hour and Eric followed along, taking the other one when you sat down on one of the swings. He watched as you slowly swayed back and forth, your gaze fixed onto your feet that never left the sand.

“I know it’s late,” you eventually started without looking up, “but I always wanted to apologize.”

It felt weird to hear you apologize. Maybe because in his head Eric has assumed you had moved on from everything quickly, starting your new life in a new place and forgetting all about the boy you’d left behind. It’d made sense to him, because while he’d never gotten the luxury of actual closure, always stuck wondering what he’d done wrong for things to go the way they did, you had known. There were no open ends to take care of, not for you. Or so he’d made himself believe, but here you were, apologizing because apparently you too hadn’t just forgotten everything.

“I was a dick back then,” you added and Eric found himself agreeing. “Yeah.” He thought he saw you flinch at his honesty. 

“I’m sorry. I really am. I know it’s not an excuse but I just—I was really scared back then.”

“Scared of what?”

“Everything. Graduation. Change. It all felt so scary to me. And I know it’s scary to everyone, I get that, but back then I felt like I was the only one struggling. Everyone around me seemed all happy and excited and I just felt so scared.”

“I could have been there for you.”  

“I know. I knew. But maybe you were one of the reasons I was so scared and I didn’t know how to tell you that.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Eric turned to you with a frown, but you didn’t look up.

“I was just so scared of losing you.”

“We would have been fine even with the distance. You wouldn’t have lost me.”

“Maybe not.”

“Definitely not,” he insisted.

You stopped swinging, your heels digging into the sand. “It wasn’t just the distance—I mean, of course I was scared of being apart. But at the time even being together felt like I was going to lose you. I just felt different, and I knew I was ruining our friendship but I didn’t know how not to. Or, I don’t know—maybe I thought boycotting things myself would be easier to stomach. It was a mistake, I know that now, but I was stupid back then.” 

Eric knew how hard it was for you to tell him all this, he heard it in the way your voice trembled and he saw it in the way your hands clung onto the chains of the swing like your life depended on them. But hearing it wasn’t easy either. You were confirming what he’d somehow already known: kissing him was a mistake to you. It’d been something to boycott your friendship without any deeper meaning, and that stung because it had meant so much to him. 

“I don’t expect you to forgive me,” you continued when Eric didn’t say anything, “but I at least wanted to say sorry. I was an idiot.”

A moment went by in silence, and then another. There was nothing aside from the wind rustling in the trees and the slight squeaking of the swings’ hinges. Eric felt tears welling up in his eyes and that sucked because he’d so badly wanted to be okay when he saw you again; he’d wanted to be over it, but now that you were here it all came back to him. He looked up to the dark sky, trying to blink away the tears. It was pathetic that he was crying like this, still hung up on his first love after four years.

“Did you ever actually—,” He started but then interrupted himself. —like me?, was what he wanted to ask but he couldn’t get the words out. It seemed you understood him anyway.

“I did. I liked you, Eric. I know I didn’t act like it, but I really liked you.”

He turned to meet your gaze and he was surprised to see tears in your eyes too. You seemed earnest. “But did you like me like that?” His voice was hoarse and quiet and barely came out at all, but he needed to ask, he needed to finally know. 

You looked confused, as if you’d already given all the answers Eric was looking for and he was just too stupid to see. And maybe he was, maybe you’d already said it all, but he had to make sure. 

“That’s what scared me so much, Eric,” you whispered. “I didn’t want to destroy our friendship with my silly feelings, but at the same time I wanted—”

“They weren’t silly. If your feelings were silly then mine were silly too.”

Your breathing hitched. “What do you mean?”

“I liked you too,” he admitted because there wasn’t a reason not to, “I always, always liked you.”

With a long sigh you pushed yourself up from the swing, taking a few steps ahead, maybe just to do something. “I really fucked things up, huh?” You turned to look at him, as if you wanted to ask more, but it took you another two turns and a few more uneasy steps to gather the courage. “What about now? Do you hate me?”

“I don’t hate you,” Eric got up too, reaching out for your hand to stop your pacing. Your fingers felt cold, maybe from the iron chains of the swings, and he wished he could put them in his pocket to warm them up. “I never once hated you.”

When you looked up now, eyes almost a little teary, he realized how close you were. If he just leaned in a little he could have kissed you. He didn’t get to though, because you leaned in first, your lips brushing his in a careful, feather light touch before you pulled away again, a question in your eyes. His gaze followed your lips, chasing the kiss, and that was enough for you to lean in again. This time I need to remember, he thought to himself as he reached up to cup your jaw and pull you in. This time I have to remember every little thing about it. 

Having you back in his room after all this time felt strange and having you in his bed felt even stranger. Eric remembered the days spent sitting on his race car sheets that he would have been too embarrassed to show anyone else, but it was fine if it was you, because you wouldn’t tell anyone. He remembered the laughing and the play fighting and all the dreams and plans you’d talked about while staring at his ceiling with the little sky of glow-in-the-dark stars looking back at you. The stars weren’t there anymore, nor were the race cars. But most importantly, rather than sitting next to him, you were straddling his hips, your eyes dark and beautiful in the halflight of the room. You leaned down to kiss him and your hair felt ticklish where it brushed his skin. It was a slow and sweet kiss, your fingers gently carding through his locks. But you steadily became more greedy, slipping your tongue into his mouth as you drew him in. He didn’t mind at all, feeling that same sense of hunger burning under his skin. When you ground your hips into him, he let out a groan, muffled only by your lips on his own. Almost automatically he grabbed onto your waist, pulling your body even closer to his own because it never felt close enough. He broke away from your lips, his mouth moving to your neck instead, leaving a trail of bites and kisses in its wake. You tilted your head to give him more access as you continuously rolled your hips into his, chasing that sweet sweet friction. His hands slipped beneath your shirt and he loved the feeling of your warm skin right beneath his fingertips as he explored your body. When his hands traveled down to the waistband of your jeans, tugging at the fabric in a question, he felt you jolt in his lap, stopping your movements as if you’d woken up from a trance.

“Wait,” you whispered with a breathy voice, your hand coming to rest on his.

“You don’t want to?” He asked, searching your eyes for answers. Of course he wanted to, but it wasn’t like he’d be upset if you didn’t. Anything was fine with him, really, as long as you didn’t disappear from his side again.

“It’s not that.” You took a deep breath and Eric immediately felt a sense of dread bubble up in his stomach. 

“But?”

“Eric, I’m flying back in three days.”

His grip on you instinctively tightened, as if that could somehow make you stay. Of course he’d somehow known that you would have to go back to your life that very clearly wasn’t taking place in this town, or room, or bed. But he’d chosen to ignore that knowledge, pushing it to the far back of his mind because he didn’t want to think about it. What use was there thinking about it anyway? He couldn’t change it.

“Yeah,” he whispered, letting his head drop onto your shoulder and wrapping his arms around you in a hug.. “But can’t we have this? At least for now?”

“If we indulge ourselves now, won’t it hurt more to part ways?”

“I don’t know. I think it hurt plenty last time.” He didn’t want to sound bitter or like he was holding a grudge, because he wasn’t. But it almost seemed like history was repeating itself. Why did you always kiss and run? What was it about him that you didn’t want to stay?

He felt your arms coming around his back, your hands drawing slow patterns. “You’re right, it hurt plenty,” you admitted and your voice seemed to tremble, “I just don’t know what to do. It’s like we’ll always get hurt, no matter which route we take.”

Eric raised his head to look at you and he felt his heart ache when he saw tears running down your cheeks. “Maybe. But if we get hurt anyway, shouldn’t we at least make the most of being together now?” 

“Okay,” you whispered, resting your forehead against his.

He smiled, reaching up to wipe away your tears. “Okay,” he repeated. And then you kissed, again and again, until the sweet comfort of your touch drowned out the heartache that was haunting both of you.

For two days, you lived in your own little world, shut away from the reality that waited outside of Eric’s room and just indulging in the way it felt to be together. Of course you both knew it wasn’t going to last, it was a mock reality, a simulation of what could be under different circumstances. But Eric had given that enough thought already. At least for a bit he didn’t want to worry about that and just get a taste of that happiness, even if he had to return it eventually. You seemed to feel the same or at least that’s what Eric wanted to believe when you let him snuggle closer in the morning, giggling at the way he buried his face in the crook of your neck, his breath ticklish on your bare skin. He smiled to himself, his chest brimming with happiness as he mindlessly started playing with your hand. You had pretty hands, he thought. He traced your fingers, one by one until he reached your ring finger. His delusional mind wondered, what it’d look like if you wore a ring. Preferably one that he’d gotten for you. Which reminded him—he did get one for you. It was way late, but it was neatly sitting in his nightstand.

“Y/n,” he started in a soft voice because the morning was too quiet to speak any louder, “Sorry for not winning you an arcade ring back then.” 

“You still remember that?”

“Of course I do. You know, I sometimes thought maybe things would have been different if I had won that ring for you.” It was supposed to be an introduction, leading up to the big reveal that he’d finally gotten that ring. That was romantic wasn’t it? But when he was about to sit up to reach for the drawer of his nightstand, you shot him down with your words.

“We would have gone down in flames either way. A plastic ring couldn’t have made a difference.”

“Right,” he whispered and his voice sounded choked up.

“Eric—”

“No, you’re right. It’s just a stupid ring. Who would be hung up on it all this time?” Who, aside from him, of course.

“It’s not that, Eric. It wasn’t stupid—but what I’m trying to say is it wasn’t your fault. You didn’t do anything wrong and it wasn’t because you didn’t win the ring for me. It just wasn’t the right time for us.”

“Is there ever going to be a right time for us?” Eric sounded bitter. He didn’t mean to, but he just didn't know how to hide his feelings about all of this. You tensed up, your fingers almost desperately intertwining themselves with his.

“There has to be,” you whispered and he heard the tears in your voice. He squeezed your hand, a silent comfort because he didn’t know what else to do or say. Nothing could stop you from leaving tomorrow. Nothing could change the circumstances you found yourselves in. 

You’d told him that he didn’t have to drive you to the airport, but he’d insisted. If he already couldn’t keep you he at least wanted to be with you for as long as possible. You arrived early, so you sat in one of the waiting areas for a bit, hands intertwined and a heavy silence hanging above you. It was hard to make conversation, because everything either of you could possibly say seemed so meaningless in the face of having to part. When it was finally time for you to head to the gate, Eric accompanied you as far as he could. You hugged for an eternity before reluctantly pulling away and it still seemed to be too short. Both of you had been crying on and off ever since you’d arrived at the airport, and there shouldn’t be any tears left at this point, but somehow there still were new ones coming anyway.

“I should really go now.”

“Yeah,” Eric nodded, but his fingers still held onto yours for a second longer, the thought of letting go painful, “I know.”

“It will be okay,” you whispered as you turned to leave and Eric wondered if you were telling him or yourself, “there will be a time for us.”

What bullshit, he thought to himself, watching you walk off. Why should you have to wait for a right time, after you’d already waited so long? The small plastic ball that he’d taken out of his nightstand and slipped into his pocket for god knows what reason felt impossibly heavy. He didn’t want to wait anymore.

“There won’t be,” he blurted out without thinking, “There won’t be a right time.”

You halted in your movements, slowly turning back around looking utterly heartbroken. “But can’t we hope?”

With a few steps he closed the distance between you again. “There will never be a right time for us. Because there is no such thing. Aren’t we the ones who should decide what time is right? I am tired of all this uncertainty. I don’t want to see you go without knowing if we’ll talk again. I know it isn’t easy to make things work long distance, but shouldn’t we at least try? Didn’t we spend enough time with regrets?”

“But how—how could I possibly ask that of you? After everything I’ve done, shouldn’t I make things easy for you now? How can I ask you to try something that seems to be doomed to fall apart?”

“Then what if I’m the one who’s asking you?” He pulled out the plastic capsule from his pocket, holding it out to you with shaking hands. “What if I’m the one who’s asking to try?”

You stared at it for a moment, clearly flabbergasted. “Is that—?”

“Yeah,” he opened it to show you the tiny little arcade ring, and it made a new wave of tears roll down your cheeks. 

“You got it? For me?”

“A while ago. I know you said it wouldn’t change anything, it’s just plastic after all but—”

“You really went back to win it for me?” You were straight up sobbing now, but there was a smile in your eyes.

“Well, I said I would.”

“I love it,” you pressed out through tears, “I love you.” 

“Yeah,” he smiled back, trying his best and failing not to cry too. He’d wondered many times if he should just throw the ring away and move on. And maybe he should have, but right now, at this moment, he was glad he didn’t. “I love you too.”

23

Twenty-three was fine, he supposed. And for the most part it was. He felt too young to be finishing college and there was all that fear about what was to come after; the prospect of job interviews scary, the prospect of maybe not even getting invited infinitely scarier. But it wasn’t as frightening as it could have been, maybe because he'd been seeing a therapist for a while now. Or maybe because he wasn’t feeling so alone now. Despite not living in the same town anymore he had a lot of contact with his friends these days, both from college and high school. Actually Sunwoo had even come over to help with his move. Your move, to be more precise. You’d moved in together just a few weeks ago, after his classes had ended for good. It was a cozy little flat close to your workplace that you'd picked together, and Eric had never loved coming home more than he did now. There was nothing better than knowing you’d be there and even at the times you weren’t, he still found you in every inch of your shared apartment, from the potted plant in the kitchen that you insisted wasn’t dead yet, to your forgotten sock between the sofa cushions.

You also actually wore that tiny little arcade ring (on your pinky, because it didn't fit anywhere else). He’d told you a zillion times you didn’t have to wear it, but it gave him butterflies that you did. He promised himself that once he’d found a job he would save up for a proper ring, one that you wouldn’t have to wear on your pinky. The thought made him giddy and excited for the future, overshadowing all the scary parts. Yeah, twenty-three was definitely fine.

Masterlist

[eviesqueezie]

you’re my coney island baby

the radio plays in the background of the sweltering heat, where curly lays with his head resting on the wall of the curtis’ house. ponyboy sits next to him, thighs touching as he takes puffs from a cigarette they both share.

ponyboy’s math homework is laid out infront of him as he scribbles away with a blunt pencil. curly has the same worksheet, only he’s doodling in the corners instead of filling in the equations.

ponyboy leans over to look, giving an approving nod. his face is tinted red, sweat forming on his cheeks. curly thinks he’s never looked more attractive. if they weren’t out on the porch, if they were in curly’s bedroom or down at the treehouse in the woods, curly would have pulled him in and kissed him senseless. but they weren’t, they were on the porch for the public eye. he just shifted closer, letting his eyes flicker down to his lips.

ponyboy nods, smiling. 

“someday curls, we can do whatever we want.”

curly nods, folding his worksheet into a paper aeroplane.

“you boys hungry?” darry stuck his head out the door, shirt unbuttoned.

both boys nodded, quickly pulling themselves up and into the kitchen. it was even warmer inside, even with the windows and door open. a small fan in the corner was blowing in every direction, making little to no difference. two-bit was spread out on the couch, sweating like a pig but asleep nevertheless. sodapop and steve were having a half-assed game of snap, steve pausing every once in a while to push back his ungreased hair.

as curly looked around the room, he noticed there wasn’t a greased lock in sight. the heat would have melted it anyway, and curly never could get the grease through his tight coils. if he wasn’t surrounded by the other boy’s whole gang, he would’ve ran his fingers through pony’s hair, feeling the softness under his fingertips.

curly slid onto the couch next to where ponyboy had plopped down, fiddling with the chain around his neck. 

“anyone up for poker?” sodapop asks, half-heartedly.

“naw, ain’t nobody wanna play when ya cheat all the damn time sodapop!” steve shouted, grinning when soda jumped ontop of him, beginning the third fight of the day.

“get off eachother for gods sake, it’s too hot in here for all that.” darry says, setting down a glass of water infront of ponyboy who accepts it gratefully.

“ain’t i get any water, dar?” soda asks, frowning in mock hurt.

“when ya look like yer on the verge of passin’ out, you can have some darrel delivery service.” darry grins, pointing at soda with two fingers, pretending to shoot him. sodapop jumps back, playing dead.

“me and curly are goin’ to my room, that okay, dar?” darry nods, giving a thumbs up before faltering. 

“what ‘bout lunch? i made pb&js..” his voice trails off as soda jumps up, running to the kitchen. “guess we know what it takes to bring him back from the dead then.”

pony laughs, curly feels lightheaded. sodapop runs back in, almost tripping over the carpet that runs along the floor. he passes a plate to pony, then to curly. they both dig in, curly eating like it’s his last meal on earth. which could be linked to how he’d had no breakfast, but curly decided them to be unrelated.

ponyboy finishes quickly after, dragging curly into the kitchen to drop their plates in the sink before slinking off to pony’s room. as soon as the door shuts, curly pushes him against the closed door, letting his hand rest against the doorknob so he can know if somebody tries to get in. ponyboy grins, closing the short distance between their lips.

this. this is what curly stays sane for.

they know nothing else can happen. they know the shirts will stay on and they won’t move away from the door. they know that this is all they can do.

the doorknob wiggled from the outside and both boys lept away, fixing their shirts and moving to sit on the bed.

“what you guys up to?” sodapop came through the door, grinning like a mad man.

curly shrugged and leaned back on his hands.

“just talkin’, can’t really do anythin’ in this weather can we pones?” 

ponyboy forced out a laugh and nodded.

“what’s up, soda?”

“me and steve are headed to the lake, y’all wanna come?” pony nods quickly but curly hesitates, checking the clock on the wall.

“i got business, maybe next time.” he pulls himself up, waving bye to pony and nodding at sodapop before he walks out the door, fixing his hair once again.

ponyboy runs out after him, meeting him out on the porch where they were just minutes ago.

“come round tommorow?” he asks, eyebrow raised. curly grins.

“sure pone. cya tommorow.” 

and with that he leaves, letting the heat drift over his shoulders. 

he shoots a look behind him as he crosses the street, thinking back to the pressing of lips and the pressure of calloused hands.

he lets it drift back inside the house, where his secret would be safe. where he could be safe.

[floridakilo]

what books are on your must read beat generation list

on the road (1957) novel

naked lunch (1959) novel

howl and other poems (1956) poetry

junky (1953) novel

the dharma bums (1958) novel

queer (1985) novel

desolation angels (1965) novel

mexico city blues (1959) poetry

interzone (1989) letters and essays

the yagé letters (1963) letters and essays

kaddish and other poems (1961) poetry

a coney island of the mind (1958) poetry

big sur (1962) novel

the subterraneans (1958) novella

gasoline (1958) poetry

[winniemaywebber]

Tilt-A-Whirl

Little pockets of joy are few and far between during war time, so these girls snatch it up while they can. A day at the beach during a rare long weekend is just what is needed. Jo and Jean make the most of being beach bums, with a couple of extra friends.

A day on Coney Island, featuring Jo, Jean, Juliet and Ruthie.

It was Friday, and the beginning of a long weekend for Jo Harris and Jean Crosby. The smell of the cusp of summer lay under the fresh scent of Spring, the cool, sky blue days departing without so much as a cool breeze to bid farewell until the next year. The sun shone brightly at the beginning of the week, the heat only getting stronger and stickier as the days progressed, the humidity bordering on unbearable in the night. Thursday had been the worst day for it so far, the girls’ set hairstyles destroyed in the humidity, the wooden seats they sat upon at work slick with sweat, taking to bringing a towel from home and sitting upon that to save some decorum while surrounded by other women and men at the switchboard which they worked. Stockings neglected, the windows of their work building being opened not cooling them down one jot, their boss had beckoned them in a circle right before lunch time. 

“It's just too darn hot,” the bespectacled man had puffed, dabbing at his brow with an already damp, wrung out handkerchief. “The weatherman said it's sure to cool down over the weekend. Go on and take the day tomorrow, see you all back here Monday morning.”

They didn't need to be asked twice, Jo and Jean trotting off to their neighboring cubbies and collecting their handbags before rushing off to the bus stop, the vehicle heavy with the same humidity that hung in the air outside.

—

Arriving home, both girls throw down their handbags and rush to the icebox, letting the cool air wash over them before grabbing a cold drink from it.

Sitting down at the table with a huff, fanning themselves, they find themselves in a companionable silence. It was one of the things they loved most about one another; they could yap for hours about everything and nothing, but could also bask in a slow, gentle quietness, knowing the other was still present in the moment. 

“Gosh, it's stifling,” Jean says, breaking the silence and wafting at herself with yesterday's newspaper. “I couldn't sit there a moment longer. If you looked at the seat of my chair, you'd have thought I'd had some kind of accident! I'm sweating in places I didn't know I could sweat!”

“Ugh,” Jo replies, giggling a little. “I hear ya. The back of my knees are dripping. My knees, for goodness sake!”

The phone rings, startling them both from their complaints, their eyes darting towards the telephone sat upon a small table in the entryway. 

“I've got it!” Jean says, standing slowly so as not to sweat more. “Hello?”

Josephine listens in, scanning the front page of the newspaper Jean had been fanning herself with a few moments before. Shouts of “oh, goodness, you too?” and “what a fabulous idea!” echo from the hallway into the kitchen, Jo’s ears pricking up at every word. “We'd love to! Okay, yes, shall we say around lunchtime? Yes, of course Jo will be there. A friend? Goodness, yes! We can't wait to meet her, Jules…yes, Coney Island, lunchtime. See you then!” 

Jean places the phone back into its holder, rushing back to the table to relay the information to Jo. 

“Jules has a long weekend too! The students were just not getting anything done in this heat, so the principal sent everyone home this morning.”

“Sounds great!” Jo replies, her eyes telling Jean to carry on.

“She says it's the perfect weekend for the beach, and I sure agree. We've been working hard, we deserve to take this long weekend and have fun! She wants to meet us at Coney Island tomorrow afternoon!”

“Oh, a wonderful idea! Especially with Brady being where he is, it'll cheer her up no end. And she's bringing a friend?”

“Yes, a friend from school! Ruthie.”

“I can't wait!”

—

Gripping each other's hands, Jo and Jean push through a crowd as thick as the ongoing heat as they step onto the platform, making sure to keep ahold of their beach bags with their free hands. Shoving slightly, they finally exit the hubbub, glancing around quickly.

“I don't see them,” Jean says, pulling a fan out of her bag and wafting at her face with it. She looks beautifully fresh, forgoing her usual makeup routine and leaving her face mostly bare so as not to deal with melted rouge and smudged mascara. Jo has done the same, hair pinned back in a light scarf, sunglasses covering her bare eyes. 

“Jean! Josephine!” they hear from across the way. There stands Juliet Thompson, hair similarly styled, wrapped in a light dress to cover her swimsuit. Next to her stands a beautiful, tall, dark haired woman, her skin the most beautiful, soft caramel color. 

“Thank goodness we all had the same idea,” Jo mumbles, taking in their beach day outfits as Jean pulls her towards the two girls, squealing as they reach them. 

“I'd say it's been a while,” Juliet says, hugging them both. “But it's barely been a fortnight since our upstate visit!” 

Jo laughs, returning her embrace and once again glancing at her friend. Jean looks as mesmerized at the girl as Jo does, the pair of them blown away by how outstandingly gorgeous she is as she removes her sunglasses to greet Jules’ friends. 

“This is Ruthie! We've been friends since our schooldays. Ruthie, this is Josephine and Jean. Josephine and Jean’s fellas are in the same squadron as Johnny.”

“Hi,” she says meekly, waving nervously. 

“Come on,” Jules urges, starting to push through a new crowd forming at the entrance of the train station. “I need some sun and a few rides on the Tilt-A-Whirl.”

—

“I am not going on that,” Jo protests, nauseous from being tilted too many times on the whirl. After agreeing to take a few rides with Jules, she needed a sit down and a cigarette, her stomach still lurching from the after effects. It flips again, looking up at the tremendously high and dangerous looking Parachute Jump. 

“But it's such a great view of the boardwalk, Jo!” Jules laughs, pointing up.

“I can see it perfectly well from down here, thank you. I'm sure I'll vomit.”

“Fine,” she sighs. “Jean?”

“Go on, then,” she says, gritting her teeth. “I suppose it's something to tell Bing in my next letter. I can show off that I don't get airsick.”

As the pair depart, Jean nervously looking up at the ride with every other step she takes towards it, Jo sits down next to Ruthie. 

“She didn't ask you, girlie.”

“She knows better than to ask me to go on that contraption!” she giggles, looking up and squinting. She shudders, looking at Jo with a huge smile. “Much too high for me. Jules has always had no fear and I was the scaredy-cat.”

“Oh, that's Jean and I,” Jo replies, shaking her head. “I've had a few moments where I'm reading letters from Robert, scared out of my wits for what may happen. But, Jean…she's far more together about each situation. We just–”

“Balance each other out? Jules and I do that, too.”

A moment of silence passes between them, a question on Jo's lips.

“So tell me,” she begins. “Your name. Am I saying it correctly? Ruthie?”

“Yes,” she nods. “My name is actually Ruthvika, but many people seem to have trouble pronouncing that, so since school, I have been Ruthie.”

“Ruthvika,” she murmurs, nodding. “That's so beautiful. That's not hard to pronounce at all. Gosh, people are ridiculous.”

“I wanted to make it easy on people.”

“You'll learn that, with us by your side, you'll never have to do that again. You're Jules’ friend, and by association, one of us. One of the gang. What would you like to be called?”

“I like Vika,” she says, eyes downcast.

“Vika. It's so pretty.”

Jo looks to her left as she sits in the warm sun, The Cyclone in her line of sight. Purely by coincidence that she'd sat there, but she was sure it was her heart leading her there somehow. Her thoughts turn to Robbie: how much she missed him, and how they'd have been here twice, even thrice by now, him poking at her to ride The Cyclone with him and her faking being worn down by him. It didn't ever take much; one look in those pretty blue eyes and she'd say yes to anything.

“You are never getting me on that darn thing again,” Jean scolds, her face the same green as her fan. She turns to Jo and Vika, shaking her head. “That was horrible!” 

“Now you see why I stayed down here with Vika,” Jo laughs, handing Jean her bag. “Come on, let's get the last of the sun!”

“You girls want a picture?” A man calls, having them stand just in front of The Cyclone. 

“Oh, yes please,” Jean says. “We can send one to Robbie and another to Binger.” 

Laughing as they get into position, they place their sunglasses back on their faces as the camera snaps them, huge grins upon their faces.

“Now one of the four of us, for the mantle!” Jean cries, holding her hand out to Ruthie and Jules. “Come on!” 

—

The beach had been heaving when they'd first arrived, deciding to have fun at the fairground and the World of Wax museum, the figures melting in the sweltering heat, the features on the wax slowly dripping off on to the hardwood floor, the girls giggling at a nose plopping off a figure as they left. As the crowds departed, people finally making their way back to the city, the girls finally had some room to lay down their towels on the sand. Jules had grabbed a large parasol from a hut on the beachfront, her and Vika working together to push it into the soft sand at the perfect angle, burying the wooden pole before themselves laying under it. 

“So, Vika,” Jean starts, only needing to be told once of her preferred name. “Do you have a sweetheart?”

“No,” she says, shaking her head. “I'm too busy studying and working for all that at the moment.”

“I see!” Jean replies. “Where do you work?”

“My parents own and run a hotel on the outskirts of the city, so I help them out there.”

“And do you enjoy it?” Jo probes, her eyebrow furrowed as she shades her eyes from the sun. 

“Hm, I guess. I like being able to help my parents with their day.”

“Well then, that's all that matters, doll. As long as you're happy.”

“Have you both heard from the boys?” Jules’ nervous voice calls from the other side of Vika. “Olive wrote me a few days ago, but they haven't had any update either.”

“We have. Just last week, actually. Can you believe it, my husband thinking he's Captain Marvel trying to stay awake for days at a time? Three days he went with no sleep, until he collapsed on the floor.”

“Robbie told us none of this until after the mission, so there's us, chewing our fingernails clean off and hoping for some news- any news! Only to find out it's ‘yes, darling, I'm fine, but by the way, please tell Jean that Harry is sleeping off a coma.”

“Can one sleep off a coma?” Vika asks, giggling. 

“Jury's out on that one, darling,” Jean sighs, laying back down. “Welcome to the madness.”

She hears sniffling, sitting up once again to look at Jules. 

“Oh, Juliet. No need to cry, darling. Here,” she says, digging a handkerchief out of her bag. Dabbing at her eyes, she wraps an arm around her.

“S-sorry,” Jules sniffs out, steadying her breathing. “I know you both must be so worried but…I'd take that over whatever this is.”

“We know,” Jo sighs, walking over and sitting by her friend, stroking her arm. “I have a good feeling this will all be over soon, and he'll be home before you know it.”

"Yeah,” she sighs, exhaling the next sob away. “I just–I just miss him so much. And not being able to hear from him regularly is torture. It's torture.”

“I know. We know. It's so unfair, Jules, we can understand.”

“Hey,” Jean soothes, her hand now on Juliet's face. “Would you feel better if we did not talk about Harry and Robert? We can do that. We want you around but not at the expense of you getting upset.”

“No, no, goodness no,” she says, waving her hand at them dismissively. “I love hearing about them, it's just–”

“You wish he was there with them, not wherever he is,” Vika pipes up, now kneeling behind Jules. “I'm fascinated at how the three of you are coping. I don't know if–”

“Honestly, so am I,” Jean laughs. “But we have each other, and that makes it all worthwhile. And now we have you, and you're a sweetheart. Come on,” she says, pulling Jules up. “Let's get in the water before it turns freezing. Come on, all of us.”

They stand, all clasping each other's hands. The feeling of togetherness overwhelms them suddenly, smiling at one another through this intense emotion. Four girls, all thrown together because of this beastly war are now, somehow, bonded for life. They run, screaming and laughing all the while as they plunge into the cool, blue water, the joy making all of their cheeks glow.

—

“God, I need a drink,” Jean grumbles, throwing her bag on the counter. “I mean, don't people in this city know manners? Decorum? Goodness me. Three times I asked that man to excuse me, please move so I have a little more space.”

“The joys of the subway,” Jo sighs, welcoming Jules and Vika into the house and leaving the door open to let some of the cooler breeze into the house. 

“Jean, may I use your telephone?” Vika asks. “I need to call my mother.”

“Yes, doll, go right ahead. It's on the table in the entry.”

“Thanks. Won't be long.”

She exits, Jean hearing hushed tones from the hall almost immediately after the number is dialed. 

“What do you think of her?” Juliet asks, biting her lip nervously.

“I love her,” Jean replies, collecting supplies from the mirrored liquor cabinet to make her famous martinis for everyone. “She's a sweetheart.”

“She's a darling,” Jo interjects, wiping her brow with a damp washcloth. “So sweet. We had a nice little talk while you two were parachuting.”

“Oh, that darn thing,” Jean cries, jokingly gagging. “Never again. I'm just like my husband. Weak in the stomach!”

The three of them continue chatting, Jean clinking bottles and cups every so often as she mixes the drink before shaking it. 

“Yes, mother,” they hear. “No, mama. I am safe here, they're Juliet's–yes, I know. I can assure you I'm okay and–mhm, yes. I can take a cab and get the train…”

“Excuse me, ladies,” Jean says, making her way to the hall. As she approaches Vika, she holds her hand out to hold the phone. “May I?” she says, Vika nodding as her eyes begin to fill with tears. 

“Mrs Patel,” she begins. “Mrs Jean Crosby here. Uh-huh, I can sure understand your worries, Mrs Patel. But, she is quite safe here with us and I don't feel terribly comfortable about her leaving my house in a cab and then being at the station at this time of night. Yes, ma'am, she's just grand here…”

Ruthie looks on astonished as Mrs Crosby plainly lays it all out over the phone: she would be spending the night here, with her new friends. 

“Thank you, Mrs Patel. Goodbye!” She places the phone back in its cradle with a triumphant smile. “There, all settled. Would you like a martini?”

“Never had one,” she replies.

“Well then, it's your lucky day!” Jean says, ushering her back into the kitchen.

“Everything okay?” Jules asks, her face etched with concern. 

“Yes!” Vika replies brightly. “Jean spoke with my mother.”

“Oh, wow. And you can stay?”

“I can. I was also promised my first martini.”

“Jean, weaken hers a little for goodness sake. She'll be blown away if she has it the same strength as us for her first one!”

“Don't worry,” Jean says reassuringly. “I'll add some extra ice to Vika’s.”

—

In a giggly, tipsy mess, the girls had decided to camp in the living room, leaving the windows opened wide. The temperature had dropped, if only a little, letting a deliciously cool breeze into the house, the four of them finally able to breathe deeply and dry off. It made setting up the impromptu slumber party much easier: Vika and Jules were top and tail on the couch, and Jean and Jo had dragged mattresses downstairs to sleep on, Jean pulling hers from the guest room. Shrieks of “pivot! No, thatta way!” had sent Vika and Jules into cackling messes, intent on getting up to help them but their hysterical laughter stopping them in their tracks. 

“Hey, Jo,” Jules asks. “How did you and Robbie meet? I don't think I've ever asked.”

“Oh,” she giggles, already blushing. “We met many years ago now. It wasn't until he enlisted and was sent away for training that I–we realized…”

“Realized what?” Vika asks, her tone a little louder from the alcohol.

“Well, that we're in love. Terrible timing, I know, but we don't seem to follow the same path as anyone else.”

“I think it's sweet,” Jean pipes up, sleepily. The alcohol was for sure getting to her, her voice low and slow. “Least he's not distracted and forgetting about you. I suppose that happens, only being married for two weeks before you're sent off into war for years. You forget.”

“Oh, Jean,” Josephine soothes, patting her hand in the dark. “Don't be saying that.”

“You've seen the letters, Jo,” she replies, her voice tight. “Mine are full of love, desperately missing him and his are…” she pauses, not quite able to find the words. “Jeez, look at me,” she sniffs. “Sorry, girls. Not usually like this.”

“No need to apologize,” Vika says, trying her best to make eye contact with her, the room being lit only by the silver moon. “Thank you for letting me come along today. This has been one of the best days I've ever had.”

“I'm glad, doll,” Jo replies, her own eyes growing heavy. “I'm also glad Jean gave your mom what for.”

“I didn't give her what for!” Jean replies in mock outrage. “Just set her straight.”

“It was great,” Vika giggles, snuggling down further in her blanket. 

“I'm so happy we've all taken to each other. All thrown together because of this godforsaken war that's taken so much from us,” Jules chimes in.

“That's true. But you know what it can't take away? This. Friendship.”

[dameronology]

timing's a bitch (s.h) - 3/5

spring '86

i almost had you and i almost wish you would've loved me too - almost, bowling for soup (x)

"if you have chemistry, you only need one other thing...timing. but timing is a bitch" - how i met your mother

a.k.a a.k.a the three times that steve harrington chose the wrong moment, the one time that you chose the wrong moment, and the one time you both got it right (series masterlist)

You didn’t come back to Hawkins until Spring. 

It was nothing to do with Steve. Actually, nothing had changed with him. Aside from looking at him and realising that he was single-handedly responsible for the best night of your life, he was still Steve to you. Steve, who you had shaken hands with and agreed that neither of you would ever mention the hook up. Steve, who had insisted you both have a mature conversation about your fight. Steve, who had continued to drive to the city every other fucking weekend since then so you could spend time together as best friends. Just best friends. Nothing else. Even though you shared ice cream at Coney Island and stalked through Battery City at six in the fucking morning to admire the views. You shared a bed and many demons but here you were. Best friends. 

Spring Break came around quicker than you expected. You’d been eager to spend more than a singular weekend at home and actually catch up with your old friends; coffee with Nancy and record shopping with Eddie were all on the agenda, but Steve had insisted on booking you up for most of the week you were home. In some way, hooking up had accidentally brought you closer. All signs of co-dependency that you would rather have ignored than face in couples therapy. Who had the money? 

That night had played on your mind over and over again, as had the other night that you and Steve almost-but-didn’t actually hook-up. That word, you’d found, had come up a lot in recent months: almost. You almost slept with him. You almost took Steve up on his offer of a relationship. You almost begged him to stay the morning after you fucked. So many almosts in the space of just a few months and it was starting to fry your brain. You’d gone fourteen years without ever thinking of Steve as anything more than a friend; fourteen years pitying whichever girl he was trying to woo that week. You’d never anticipated that you might one day be one of those girls. 

It didn’t feel as bad as you thought it would.

Your first day home, as promised to your parents, was spent at their house. It was unpacking and lunch and then catching up on what you’d done since Christmas - though you refrained from telling them who you had done -and then finally, around sun down, they released you from their grip to go and meet your friends at the lake. Steve, as promised, pulled up outside your house at 8:02PM. 

He met you half-way up the garden path, taking you in his embrace.

“Hey, stranger!”

“Hey, Steve,” you laughed. “I only saw you last week-”

“- in New York,” he cut you off, releasing you from his grip. He ran a hand over your hair with a grin. “Seeing you in Hawkins is…different.”

You frowned. “Different how?”

“Just different,” he shrugged. “C’mon, everyone’s already at the lake.”

“Yeah, sorry,” you huffed, following Steve to the car. “My mum was talking my ear off for like three hours about my Aunt Fiona’s operation.”

Steve smiled. “Don’t apologise. I visited her in hospital last week and she’s doing okay.”

“You visited my aunt in hospital?”

“Well…yeah,” he said it as though it were the most obvious thing in the world. “I’ve known her basically my entire life.”

“It’s not that,” you replied. “It just looks really bad that I didn’t come from New York earlier to see her-”

“-it’s okay, you’re busy,” he shrugged. “Besides, I will always be Fiona’s favourite. The Golden Child.”

You chattered back and forth until you reached the lake. 

As promised, Nancy was already down there with the gang and, true to her nature, she’d brought everything you could possibly need. A tent, towels, stuff to make s’mores when the sun went down. Evening was slowly creeping in but it was still very warm out - maybe seventy or so degrees - and the water looked beautiful under the pink sunset. Save for a few other groups dotted about the shores, the lake was pretty quiet. That meant that the group had spread out a little. 

Still, that didn’t stop them all piling in your direction as soon as they saw you get out of Steve’s car. Nancy first, and then Robin, and then finally Eddie Munson wrapped his wily arms around you and dragged you over to where they were sat. There was no pointing in screaming and kicking - he was freakishly strong after all - because that would only encourage him even more to dump you straight in the lake. So, you were grateful when he dropped you on the ground and handed you a beer from his cooler. 

“Beers are on me, ladies,” he grinned proudly. “Stole ‘em from my uncle.”

“And they say romance is dead,” Robin muttered. 

“So,” Nancy rolled her eyes at them, pulling the attention to you. “How’s New York? How’s college?”

“It’s amazing!” you grinned. “The city is amazing and college is amazing and…it’s amazing.”

Steve leant over to you, voice lowered. “Say amazing one more time and we might believe you.” 

“I wanna go to a proper one next year when I’m done with this community college bullshit,” Eddie chimed in. “I hear the hook-up culture is amazing at the inner-city ones. Better than it is here, I hope.”

“I mean…yeah, it’s good,” you shrugged. “Depends where you go, though.”

“There must be so many guys in New York,” Nancy said. “Found any nice suitors yet?”

No, the one I like is in Hawkins. 

You glanced over at Steve, but shook your head. “There’s been some here and there but…all that’s boring. Let’s go in the lake before it gets dark!”

With that you, you cleared your throat and stood up. Tossing aside your t-shirt, you kicked off your shoes and ran into the water before anyone could ask any further questions.

The lake was cold, despite the warm air, and you quickly regretted throwing yourself in so quickly. Even though the ice cold water wasn’t any less painful than the conversation you were having back on the shore, you sort of preferred the suffering when it was just a metaphorical sense. Still, you forced yourself to swim further out in an attempt to get away and to warm-up. Two birds, one stone and all that. The lake wasn’t massive but still, you only got half way out before your arms began to ache.

Grabbing onto a buoy, you pulled yourself up to catchy our breath. You’d never been the strongest swimmer but you could have been an Olympian when it came to running away from conversations you didn’t want to have. Only for a little while, though, because Steve - who was an annoyingly quick swimmer - was already on his way over. The other three, it seemed, were stood on a bridge arguing over who was going to go in first. Nancy pushing Eddie in was the last thing you made out before your best friend arrived on the scene. 

“They get too much for you already?”

You smiled a little bit, shaking your head. “No, they just ask a lot of questions.”

“And you ran away because…?”

“I-” you began, but then stopped. “No reason, Steven. I just wanted to get in the water before it got too cold.”

“Y’know I hate when you call me Steven,” he muttered. “That’s not even my legal name-”

“- yeah, but it’s funny when you get mad.”

“Really?”

“Yeah,” you grinned. 

“Something’s on your mind, isn’t it?” Steve asked. 

“What makes you say that?”

“Your constant changing on the subject, the fact you near enough drowned yourself when Nancy raised the question of boys-”

“- I just wanna enjoy tonight,” you cut him off. “I appreciate you looking out for me but right now, let’s just have fun. Please?”

Steve nodded and gave you a little smile. “Of course - just as long as you promise to tell me what it is later?”

“Yeah, I promise.”

“And you know I’ve always got you,” he kept one hand on the buoy, raising the other to give you a light punch on the shoulder. “Provided that this new thing of running into freezing cold water every time you’re inconvenienced doesn’t become a habit, m’kay?”

“Lakes are a very good way of avoiding certain subjects,” you teased. “And you still came in after me.”

“I said it in sixth grade when I saved you from the pool and I’ll say it again,” he said. “I will always come after you.”

That was a promise he had kept: Steve had never not come after you. After every bad date and bad day and bad anything, he’d always been there. He’d come after you on New Years Eve simply just because he missed you and tonight, he’d come after you the second you’d run away. He’d saved you in every way since you slipped and fell in the pool all those years ago. 

You took one hand off the buoy, gently placing it on Steve’s face. His eyes followed your movements, brown irises never leaving your form as you thumb softly stroked his cheek. Any other time, he would have slapped it away and called you cheesy, but right then, he didn’t move. In fact, he was stone cold still as you leant in towards him - not from the cold, and not from shock either. Wasn’t it sort of established that kissing was just a thing you did now?

Steve met you half way, face slowly inching towards yours. 

And then, as if by magic, you both suddenly pulled backwards just before your lips touched. 

“I have a girlfriend!”

“I’m dropping out of college!”

The revelations came at the same time and were met with equal looks of shock on both your faces. You reeled backwards, not bothering to avoid splashing Steve as you did. Eyes wide with surprise and what he thought might have been fury, you pulled yourself to the other side of the buoy to take a moment. Just a moment, even a singular second, to process what the fuck he had just said. 

Steve was in a similar situation; he’d never even considered the idea that you might ever move home so soon. After all the bullshit conversation about things changing and this is what I want, Steve, even the possibility had seemed so far fetched. He would have been overwhelmed with joy at your revelation had you not looked like you were about to stab him. 

“What the fuck?!” you demanded. “When you were going to tell me that?!”

“When were you going to tell me about you dropping out?!”

“I think we should talk about your thing first!” you said. “So I’ll ask again - when you were gonna tell me?” 

“I don’t know!” Steve exclaimed. “Tonight, probably? Maybe tomorrow? Honestly, it was just something I was going to slip into conversation-”

“- we talk every fucking day, Steve! Every day say hey, what’s new? and you NEVER thought to answer the question with I HAVE A FUCKING GIRLFRIEND?!”

“I thought you’d be happy for me!”

“You’re so stupid,” you muttered. “I’m not angry at you for having a girlfriend, I’m angry at you because you didn’t tell me, and also maybe a little angry that we almost just kissed and you didn’t stop me earlier!”

“I forgot?”

“How do you forget?”

Steve sighed. “Imagine the thing you want most in the world. And then imagine finding a thing that makes you almost as happy as the last thing. And then imagine that the first thing, the thing you want most in the world, is trying to kiss you and you temporarily forget about the other thing-”

“- I’m the thing you want most in the world?” you asked softly.

“In any form, yes,” he admitted. “I met this girl a few weeks ago at the arcade. She’s funny and sweet and…I really want to give it a chance, okay? I owe it to myself because I think, to some extent, I might still be recovering a little from your rejection. You are not easy to get over.”

You smiled, giving him a little nod. “So I’m too late to ask you to take a chance on us when I move back?”

“‘Fraid so,” he murmured. “I love being your best friend and I’m so glad that you’re mine, but like I said, getting over you is the hardest thing I’ve ever done. You’re on my mind 24/7 and after we hooked up, it only got worse and…honestly? I think I might just need to let myself be with someone else for a while. She’s good for me. The change is good.”

“Yeah,” you tried to swallow your pain, forcing a grimace. “Change can be good.”

“Can we talk about your thing now?” he asked. “Are you really dropping out?”

“Mm,” you nodded. “I haven’t been happy for a while. I tried to wait it out but I think I need to come home for a while.”

“And I’ll be here every step of the way, I promise,” Steve said. “C’mon, let’s head back to shore before it gets dark.”

“Yeah, I’ll be right behind you.”

Steve gave you one last smile before letting go of the buoy and swimming away. As soon as he was a few meters out, you released your grip too and let yourself slip underwater. Only for a second, just long enough to open your mouth and let out the world’s biggest yell  of frustration. On and on and on, until your lungs hurt from the presence of screaming and absence of breathing. Then, you re-submerged to the surface and took a deep breath. 

If only you’d been a few weeks earlier.

taglist: @yaskna @karasong @etherealforever234 @i-bitch-you-bitch @aphex2winn @raes-gay @handsupforamiracle @palmtreesx3 @lokiofasgard616 @notahappystan @we-out-here-simping @angel-jz @suniloli @mapleransom-blog @thexplosivegirl @lou-la-lou @eddiemunsonloml

[thirst2]

After finding out where I was from a woman on the train in Boston smiles and tells me not to worry she hears that in the next five to ten years Detroit is going to be the Midwestern New York I in turn worry for obvious reasons the rats in New York are tall enough to drive taxis the people in New York are all seemingly allergic to saying excuse me those are problems we do not want three years later I pick up a paper and the headline reads welcome to the new Detroit and I'm quickly reminded of something my grandmother once said you can sell a house a hundred times but the walls will still tell stories on the first family that owned it you can't throw soil on top of a land of living people then try to convince the outside world that their home was graveyard before it began to blossom bike lanes and fine dining this is not a city attempting to transition into another city it's Detroit it's churches in old buildings that lean like drunk lovers but still open every Sunday for worship it's Coney Island hot dogs and Faygo pop on the days when you wanna feel like you were the only one told the secret It's what up doe and water shut offs a woman planting flowers in potholes a line straight out of a tupac poem it's still here because we didn't change our zip codes when our schools started shutting down our sports teams started losing and our air started smelling like gun smoke and new money it's Motown it's a homeless man in bright colors on the corner of Selden and Second in bright colors and music-less headphones always dancing like his imaginary check had more money on it than he expected and yea sometimes the suburban folks treat the city like a party they weren't invited to leave trash start fights then exit before the police show up sometimes the police don't show up it's not perfect but it's a city that held its place in line until God returned from an extended lunch break a place where any person on the streets will still politely give you directions even when they themselves feel lost it's a beast that swallowed my brother along with countless other friends and family members long before their time but home is wherever the most of your loved ones are buried it's the place that's found the perfect balance between breaking your heart and layering your skin it's the factory that you were built in on the nights when you feel defective it's the safest space for you to return to so to the woman in Boston who thought that I was worried to the couple in Seattle that wanted to know if my skin has ever tasted bullet to the people trying to figure out which Detroit to believe It's a complicated story with more semi colons than periods on its best day it's still broken but it works it grinds it is ours still

—"Detroit", Natasha "T" Miller

[edwinspaynes]

evermore songs as tlh characters/ships

I saw someone do this for Folklore and Evermore's my favourite album, so...

sorry nbnc isn't included i just had no idea what to do with it lol

willow -> thomas @ alastair

Wait for the signal and I'll meet you after dark Show me the places where the others gave you scars Now this is an open-shut case Guess I should've known from the look on your face Every bait and switch was a work of art

champagne problems -> james @ cordelia + matthew

[He'll] patch up your tapestry that I shred And hold your hand while dancing Never leave you standing Crestfallen on the landing With champagne problems

gold rush -> matthew

What must it be like To grow up that beautiful? With your hair falling into place like dominoes My mind turns your life into folklore I can't dare to dream about you anymore At dinner parties Won't call you out on your contrarian shit And the coastal town We never found will never See a love as pure as it

tis the damn season -> anna @ ari

Sleep in half the day just for old times' sake I won't ask you to wait if you don't ask me to stay So I'll go back to L.A. and the so-called friends Who'll write books about me, if I ever make it And wonder about the only soul who can tell which smiles I'm fakin' And the heart I know I'm breakin' is my own

tolerate it -> alastair @ charles

honestly this one is too fitting it was so hard to choose a quote but--

I greet you with a battle hero's welcome I take your indiscretions all in good fun I sit and listen, I polish plates until they gleam and glisten You're so much older and wiser and I...

happiness -> matthew @ cordelia

After giving you the best I had Tell me what to give after that All you want from me now is the green light of forgiveness You haven't met the new me yet And I think [he'll] give you that

dorothea -> ari @ anna

It's never too late To come back to my side The stars in your eyes Shined brighter in Tupelo And if you're ever tired of being known For who you know You know, you'll always know me

coney island -> james @ cordelia

Did I close my fist around something delicate? Did I shatter you? And I'm sitting on a bench in Coney Island Wondering, "Where did my baby go?" The fast times, the bright lights, the merry-go Sorry for not making you my centerfold

ivy -> alastair @ thomas while in paris

Oh, goddamn My pain fits in the palm of your freezing hand Taking mine, but it's been promised to another Oh, I can't Stop you putting roots in my dreamland My house of stone, your ivy grows And now I'm covered in you

cowboy like me -> ari @ anna

And the skeletons in both our closets Plotted hard to mess this up And the old men that I've swindled Really did believe I was the one And the ladies lunching have their stories about When you passed through town But that was all before I locked it down

long story short -> matthew

I always felt I must look better in the rear view Missing me At the golden gates they once held the keys to When I dropped my sword I threw it in the bushes and knocked on your door And we live in peace But if someone comes at us This time, I'm ready

marjorie -> grace @ christopher (😭)

I should've asked you questions I should've asked you how to be Asked you to write it down for me Should've kept every grocery store receipt 'Cause every scrap of you would be taken from me Watched as you signed your name Marjorie All your closets of backlogged dreams And how you left them all to me

closure -> alastair @ charles after the end of chog

Yes, I got your letter Yes, I'm doing better It cut deep to know ya Right to the bone Yes, I got your letter Yes, I'm doing better I know that it's over I don't need your closure

evermore -> cordelia @ james

And I was catching my breath Floors of a cabin creaking under my step And I couldn't be sure I had a feeling so peculiar This pain wouldn't be for Evermore

right where you left me -> grace

I stayed there Dust collected on my pinned-up hair They expected me to find somewhere Some perspective, but I sat and stared

it's time to go -> matthew at the end of chot

Sometimes giving up is the strong thing Sometimes to run is the brave thing Sometimes walking out is the one thing That will find you the right thing That will find you the right thing And you know in your soul And you know in your soul When it's time to go

[damn-stark]

Chapter 6 Daddy’s girl

Chapter 6 of Moon Star

A/N- We got more Jake interactions!!!

Warning- Violence, blood and weapons, swearing, Angst, FLUFF.

Pairing- Marc Spector x daughter!reader, Spider-Man x Spector!fem-reader

(Let me know if you want to be tagged)

————

*SOMETIME AGO.”

“We’re coming up on a year since you and everyone else came back, so tell me….”

The room smelled of ranch and some kind of a flower incense that was burning on her desk. Her breath smelled like her lunch, and in between her teeth was a piece of cilantro you didn’t want to bother pointing out.

“How are you feeling?”

Let’s see there’s people out there who want you to vanish again. You live in constant fear that you might vanish again, and that something else is going to happen that threatens to destroy humanity. You’ve had to repeat senior year, and your father hasn’t bothered calling or showing up. So to sum it up you’re doing super duper amazing!

“How’s your family? How’s your father?”

You look up at the bug-eyed therapist and groan.

——

*NOW. NEW YORK*

“Oh,” Steven groans and begins to tuck his hands in his sleeves as he keeps staring at the rollercoaster that creaks every few seconds. “I don’t know. I don’t think I’m ready to…die.”

You drift your eyes to him and snicker. “Steven, you have died. This,” you say and point to the roller coaster called the Cyclone. “This is nothing. Besides,” you turn and grab his arm, “Layla is asking for a picture.”

Steven glances down at you and blinks repeatedly before he responds. “We can send her one of us down here. In the safety of the ground.”

You roll your eyes and scoff. “Then why exactly did we come to Coney Island if you didn’t want to ride the rides?” You probe.

Steven shrugs and averts his gaze. “To walk the boardwalk. Eat a whole lot of junk food, wait until after the sunset to see how colorful it all gets. And just bond.”

You offer him a sweet smile and give in to his idea of a whole evening here. After all it was his day and he was too sweet to turn down. If it was Marc with you now you would have dragged him to each ride even if he groaned and rolled his eyes.

“Come on,” you say and hook one arm around his to begin pulling him away from the big creaking ride. “Let’s go get some cinnamon covered pretzels and take pictures for Layla, and my grandpa.”

Steven nods and grins. “I love that idea. So,” he says and pats your hand. “How is it going with you and that spiderling hero?”

You laugh and lean your head towards him as you begin to feel bashful considering Steven is in your fathers body. You still do tell him a few things that have developed between Spider-Man/Peter? And you, but it’s just not as much as you’ve shared with Layla.

Regardless, Steven and you spend most of the evening walking, and talking about whatever you could bring up, you laugh about stupid stuff, and browse. The only rides he’d go on were ones like the swing ride, and those less than thrilling rides. You ate until you couldn’t anymore, and waited until night rolled around to go on the ferris wheel so you could get the best look of the entire park basked by the night sky.

However, there was one thing off that you couldn’t shake, and that was the feeling of being watched. It stuck with you the entire day. No matter how many times you looked around, you didn’t catch anyone or anything around that caught your eye, so you went on with your day and tried your best to ignore it. Like now for example.

“See told you,” Steven mutters once the cart stops just at the very top of the Ferris Wheel. “Beautiful.”

You scoot closer to the window to peek out at the park, seeing bright blues and reds, catching rides in the distance moving fast. Out in the sky was the crescent moon shining brightly, and down below were yellow lights from lamps, and multiple people who walked by under them. In the distance you could hear the excited and scared screams of people. And in here there was peace.

As out of place and uncomfortable that Steven and you felt for some time as you had to grow to get used to one another’s existence, now, you finally feel at peace with him. Now you can’t even stand the thought of losing him either.

As fathers go, he was more so like the fun uncle or the step-dad. He wasn’t much—actually he never got you in any trouble, he did teach what he could, he provided advice, but he isn’t like Marc.

“You know,” you interject as the cart begins to very slowly move down. “I'm glad we did this. I’m glad you wanted to spend a day with me.”

Steven pulls away from the window and looks at you with a soft and sweet smile. “Me too! I am so glad you feel the same way. You know I can never measure up to Marc, your father, but I do want to be here for you.” He says, finally making you pull away from the window to meet his gaze.

“I want to make our own memories, and build our own relationship,” he continues. “I mean we’re going to be in each other's lives for, like, ever, so we might as well make the best of it.”

Your smile wobbles and your eyes begin to sting, but you don’t shed those threatening tears, instead you grab his hands and offer him a bigger smile.

Steven cups your hands with his and leans in to be closer to you. “You know, you, Layla, and Marc, are the best things that have happened to me. I am so glad that Marc has you in our lives.”

You scoff softly and then throw your arms around him to wrap him in an embrace and hide the happy tears that you couldn’t hold back. “I love you Steven,” you murmur.

Said man’s breath catches in his throat before his grip around you tightens. “I love you too, y/n.”

You slowly grin and sniffle before you pull back and face him. Neither of you say anything else because there isn’t much else you need to say, you just share a lingering look seconds before he wipes the tears off your face.

“Fine,” he interjects. “We can go on the big rollercoaster. But just that one, I’m not getting on that sling thing.”

You giggle whilst you pull back. “Don’t worry,” you assure him. “I don’t want to ride on that roller coaster anymore. I want to go in the hall of mirrors!”

Steven pretends to be opposed, but you can see his relief as his shoulders untense. “Are you sure? I have just convinced myself to go.”

The ride comes to stop just on the platform and you nod in agreement. “Yes, I’m sure. I heard this new hall of mirrors is like a maze instead of being like one single passage so I want to see how fast I can pass it.”

The worker opens the door for you, so Steven lets you get out first before he follows you out of the ride.

“Alright,” he gives in with no argument. “I'm up to that challenge.”

You smirk over at him and grab his arm to then maneuver through the walking crowds, pass under bright neon lights, and behind the stands so you can reach the attraction quicker.

“Whoever finishes first pays for dinner!” You throw out, and let him go to run inside the attraction before he can say anything, or before he can try to follow you through the mirror maze.

Once you’re inside you take a right to some narrow and zig-zag looking passage, Steven can be heard in the distance mumbling about something, but he soon gets out of range the further you walk down the straightforward passage.

“Okay,” you scoff out softly as you study the passage that seemed to split into two straight ahead. “Easy enough.” You slow down to a stop in front of the intersection and look at the mirror passage that was basked in dark flickering purple, blue and red lights, and then look to the left at the hall that’s basked in crazy pink, yellow and white neon lights.

“Alright,” you whisper and feel stumped between choosing one or the other. It’s just kind of ironic, one passage is the light side, and the other is the dark side. Ha….

It’s just an attraction. Nothing bad is coming out of this irony, so you head towards the hall with the flickering lights and quickly come across a sharp right turn, and then a tight narrow path that seems like you’ve come across a dead end.

“Just got to feel my way,” you mumble to yourself and put your hands on the glass to begin feeling your way, finding the passage leading towards the left.

The lights then go off, and the typical upbeat and eccentric tune that played overhead goes off, letting the startled screams of other people and the sounds of multiple footsteps echo. You swear you can also hear Steven somewhere nearby. You on the other hand just gasp and feel your muscles tense but you don’t yell, you keep swiping your hands up and down until you feel yourself come across a turn.

“Okay…”

The lights then flicker on and the music turns to rock music and gets louder. You briefly let your eyes flicker up at the ceiling out of simple curiosity before you continue to slowly walk ahead through the turn.

Once the turn comes to an end you come across an intersection that has three different paths ahead, all of them are basked by white lights, and in each hall you can see thousands of reflections of yourself staring right back at you.

Now which one?

You look at all of them but don’t take long to decide. “No path like the straightforward one.” You snicker at your own comment before you break away from your spot to continue forward.

The moment you take a step inside however, you come to a quick halt as there on the mirror straight ahead is the same red-head man from yesterday—he has the three long scratch wounds you made on his face all stapled together, his chest is going up and down quickly as he pants, sweat and blood stain the collar of his shirt, and in his hand is a gun.

“Shit, shit,” you grumble and begin to walk back without turning and giving your back to him so he wouldn’t surprise you.

Yet as you do walk back the man then raises his gun and without hesitation shoots at your head.

You’re lucky you catch his action and instantly duck whilst you throw your arms up and cross your wrists over each other to try and block the bullet with the bangles you have hidden under your crewneck sleeves. However, the bullet doesn’t impact your nano-tech made bangles, instead they hit the glass, and the noise of the bullet makes people inside the hall of mirrors to scream and try to run out.

“Oh, fuck. Fuck!” You bellow out before you drop your arms and turn around on your heels to run out of the hall. “Steven!” You call out in hopes he’d hear you.

Rather than leaving the way you came in you turn into the right hall and find that the path is actually straight ahead, so it makes it easy to run.

“Steven!” You yell out again.

“Y/N!” You hear your name. “Y/N!” He hollars out. “Follow my voice, love!”

Footsteps begin to sound louder as they get closer to you, and the path doesn’t break into two anymore. So if he was at the other side of that mirror before then he had to be nearby, probably in this hall. Fuck.

Without waiting to see him again you turn around again and begin to run back where you came from.

“Y/N!” Steven’s voice echoes out through the chaos.

You look up with slight fear and call out to him again. “Steven! I…” you come to a quick stop before you can share your whereabouts in case the red-headed man was coming in close. And before long you actually make it out into the intersection and try to run towards the entrance, but then in that moment the red-headed man runs out of the middle passage you had been in before.

“It’s too late to give you back what you want,” you snap and slowly turn around to face him to slowly begin to walk back. “I gave it to my contact. Give this up man—”

“Shut up you little girl,” he spats and once again points his gun at you.

You slowly put your hands up, and it’s as you do that that he shoots at your face, causing you to hastily snap your body to the side.

Albeit you don’t miss the bullet this time, just as you turn the bullet manages to skid right on the bridge of your nose and across your cheekbone until it finally flies past your head and hits the mirror ahead. In that moment that the bullet hit your skin there wasn’t an ounce of pain you felt. It’s not until you feel the blood going down your face that the pain registers in your head and only makes you feel that; that sharp, burning and throbbing pain that makes you cry out.

“Time to die little girl,” the man seethes, and another gunshot goes off.

Yet the bullet doesn’t hit you, instead the red-headed man falls on the floor beside you and blood quickly spills out from the bullet wound on his head.

Steven?

You snap your head back and see him. However, when you look at him in the eyes it’s not Steven that you see looking back at you; this gaze is too narrowed and hard, this stare had too much anger in his eyes and not enough fear, and his lips are too pursed together in a deep frown. Besides, Steven’s first instinct wouldn’t be to kill, this was…Marc….

“Pa,” you call out in relief before you push yourself to your feet and watch him close the gap between you and him to grab your face.

“<Sweetheart,” he says in Spanish and studies your face. “Who was that?>”

You blink and avert your gaze. “Uh….someone from a job.” You stiffen whilst you swallow thickly and expect him to let go and get angry. Yet your dad doesn’t let go, his hands just go down to your wrist and his lips part to say something, but first he lifts your arm up and pulls down your sleeve to reveal the nano-tech crafted bangle.

“<What is this?>” He asks still in Spanish.

You slowly drag your eyes up to your silver bangle before slowly meeting your dad's curious gaze.

“Bangle,” you share slowly out of fear he’d be uspet. “Made out of Nano-tech. It’s….bulletproof. Kinda, I’m still working on the kinks.”

Your dads gaze drops back to your bangle and he slowly turns your hand to study the bangle. “<Bulletproof?” He queries, and then begins to smirk. Actually smirk instead of asking why you need it to be bulletproof. “You made this?>” He asks and looks back at you.

You nod stiffly mostly because you’re unsure. “Yes. I mean it doesn’t just have to be a bangle, but I mean I can’t really walk around the streets carrying weapons when I’m trying to blend in and be lowkey.” You laugh nervously and pull your arm away from his grasp to slowly touch the bleeding wound on your face.

Your dad parts his lips to say something, but he then gets cut off with the sound of peoples demanding commands. “The gunshot came from over here, come on let’s get her!”

“<Come,” your dad urges you before he grabs your hand and pulls you towards the path he had come out of. “What did you do to piss so many people off?>”

You keep your eyes on the path ahead and shrug. “I just did a snatch and go job. I guess the artifact was important. I don’t know.”

Your dad glances back at you as he leads you down the maze of mirrors, and as expected he questions your answer. “<Snatch and go? I thought that you weren’t doing jobs anymore?>”

You don’t see a glare, or a scowl, he genuinely sounds curious.

“I,” you stammer out of confusion at his reaction. “I still do,” you reveal cautiously.

Marc rather than getting angry actually fucking snickers, and it scares you.

“<Sweetheart, you have a lot to learn.>”

Why is he not mad? And why hasn’t he stopped speaking in Spanish?

Why?

Oh what’s going on? Is it Khonshu again?

Has he been drinking?

“Yeah, I..I know,” you mutter slowly, making him scoff softly before he looks at the path ahead as you make it to the exit.

Multiple voices can be heard behind you, rushed footsteps stomp after you, and in the path ahead it’s chaos, people are hysterical, they’re all trying to run away at the same time to try and avoid getting hurt. And unlike some people, you didn’t come in a car, so as to where your father was taking you was a mystery he can’t answer since everyone is yelling.

However, your dad still takes you to the parking lot where it is a bit quieter.

“Where are we going?” You ask out loudly.

Your dad finally lets go of you and rushes over to the driver side of some old modeled blue Honda that still hasn’t been claimed by their owners.

“Pa…” you slowly begin to question him as he tries to break into the car. “What are you doing? I’m sure we can catch a bus and lose ‘em that way.”

Marc shakes his head. “<No need. I can open this and get you home faster.>”

You furrow your eyebrows together and peer back to check for the goons that are after you, and actually manage to catch six figures running into the parking lot as well, leaving no room for argument.

“<Get inside,” your dad breaks from your stupor as he manages to open the car door rather quickly. “Now, y/n!>”

You look back at him as he climbs in and hesitate for a second.

Why exactly is he doing this? Yes, neither of you are model citizens, he’s probably stolen a car before. Shit you all did in Egypt, but his behavior here now is so….weird. So unlike him. He’s so….impulsive—

A gunshot suddenly goes off before you can move and get deeper into your thoughts, but luckily it hits the pavement beside you.

You then run into the passenger however, and before you can even close the door, your dad is already quickly reversing out of the parking spot.

“<Here,>” he says and throws a handgun on your lap.

You drop your eyes and feel them widen slightly out of shock. “Steven had this with him?”

Your dad stays quiet for a moment as he navigates his way out of the parking lot since there is traffic.

“Pa?”

He hums and spares you a glance.

“Steven had this?” You repeat yourself and gain a longer stare, before he focuses on the road and shakes his head.

“<No, I took it from the man after you.>” He says, making you pick up the gun slowly and nod slowly in comprehension—“<This is what I want you to do. Open your window and when they’re behind us stick your body out and shoot.>”

Shoot. Just like that?

Marc finally maneuvers out of the parking lot and gets onto the street where he begins to swiftly swerve between lanes like some kind of racing expert.

“I didn’t know you were this good at driving,” you comment hesitantly.

“<Behind us!>” He yells and ignores your comment.

You spare him one last glance before you open the window all the way and then swipe a crescent dagger from your other bracelet, before you stick half of your body out like he said.

“<Okay,” Marc interjects rapidly. “<Just hit the driver. That’s all you need and the car will swerve.>”

Yes it’s not your first car chase.

A red Subaru picks up its pace and gets right on Marc’s ass. The man inside the passenger seat then proceeds to stick his hand out of his window to point his gun at you.

“Yeah,” you murmur to your dad with a smirk and point your gun at the driver. “I got it.”

However, instead of shooting the driver, you only pretend you’re going to shoot.

“<Since we are driving fast you have to aim the bullet—>”

Before your father can finish with whatever tip he was going to give you, you stick your hand out and throw the dagger at the tire and actually manage to puncture it and cause the car to swerve and crash into a nearby tree.

“Fuck, yeah,” you mutter proudly under your breath.

“<Good job, sweetheart,>” your dad surprises you by complimenting you.

The smile on your face widens and rather than feeling bad, you begin to feel happy and encouraged.

“<Now,” he mutters and grabs the back of your coat to pull you back inside. “Put your seatbelt on and hang on!>”

You let out a small ‘oof’ as you hit the back of your seat, but don’t linger in your shock and do what you’re told.

Right away though, just as the approaching stop light turns red Marc slams on the brakes and rapidly turns the steering wheel around in a very skillful manner to swing the car around in a u-turn, and face a second Subaru filled with the last four remaining men who had been after you.

“<The gun,” he suggests.

Yet that’s not what came to mind. As weird as you are finding his current behavior, his encouragement and lack of anger towards this situation fires up your own adrenaline, and violent tendencies. So instead of using the gun you pull your sleeve pack to go on your Applewatch, and make the pieces of the Nano-tech turn into a small explosive gadget.

“<The gun,>” your dad urges.

Now this tech is mostly untested, but you do have…a lot of faith, so with one deep breath out you stick half of your body out the window and wait.

The car gets closer, but you keep waiting, making your dad anxious.

“<The—>”

You nod and just as the black Subaru is a few feet away you activate the gadget and hurl it at the hood of the car.

The moment the gadget sticks a second passes where all you can do is hold your breath and wait…

Until finally before the others could hit you, the explosive goes off, causing the engine to explode at the same time. And since the car was coming at you at a quick speed the car gets thrown high off the ground, causing your dad to step on the gas to drive past it before it can hit the ground as you both lean forward to watch the airborne car in awe.

Your dad snickers a little a moment after, and once he drives past the car you immediately snap back around to watch the car slam back onto the ground and stop traffic.

“<That was,” your dad interjects with a small breathless chuckle. “Fucking cool!>” He grins and quickly glances at you.

You scoff and even if there is a bit of remorse for what you did, that’s quickly shoved away by your dads compliment and excitement.

“<That was amazing, sweetheart,>” he continues.

You begin to grin and get all flustered. “Thanks.” You mumble.

Your dad pats your shoulder and offers you a kinder smile. “<Lets park this car so I can take you home and take care of that wound, hm?>”

“Okay, cool. But,” you add. “Can we go get doughnuts first?”

His gaze drifts to you and without hesitation he nods in agreement.

——

*LATER*

“Ow….ow,” you groan and squeeze your eyes shut. “Ow.”

“<Let me see,” your dad mumbles and places another piece of medical tape on the thin wound on your face. “Hold still.>”

You groan and scrunch your nose as you squeeze your eyes tighter as he grabs another piece of tape and pulls the skin.

“<Y/N, relax your face,>” your dad instructs.

You let out a deep sigh and slowly do as he says, but begin to now dig your nails in your palm. Meanwhile your dad shifts around one more time before once again placing another piece of tape on your wound so it will close. “<Okay,” he mutters. “I’m…done.>”

You let out a deep relieved breath and open your eyes to immediately grab the small hand mirror off the table

“This hurt,” you grumble and groan again as you notice how long the stupid wound is across your fucking face.

“<It’s your fault for getting shot,>” your dad retorts as he gets out of his chair to collect all the trash he made.

You gasp and lower the mirror to look at him in shock, even if you know he’s right.

“<Next time keep your eyes open,” he advises as he walks over to throw the trash away and then wash his hands. “Don’t let your guard down. They won’t manage to surprise you if you keep an eye out at all times.>”

You put the mirror down on the table and hop off your chair to walk over to the other side of the table to grab another doughnut from your half empty six-pack box. “That sounds…” you trail off as you take a bite from the food in your hand. “Stressing.”

Your dad shakes the water off his hands before he wipes them off on his jacket and shrugs. “<Sure, but you’ll see you won’t get surprised.>”

You swallow the food and hum. “I guess. But uhm, you know I hope Layla doesn’t get mad for what happened. I mean she won’t get mad at me, but, you,” you point at him. “She’ll definitely be mad at you for letting me get shot.”

Your dad stays quiet and averts his gaze before he nods slowly, and then walks away from the kitchen to enter your room. You quickly break away from your spot and follow behind him, catching him just examining the small nano-tech housing unit.

“<It’s no wonder Khonshu wanted you to be his Avatar, you’re so freakin’ smart.” He comments with a faint smile. “How’d you make this?>”

You crouch down beside him to study your work with him, and take another bite from your doughnut. “Mostly junk metal,” you mumble with your mouth full. “Stuff nowadays is, you know, smart, so it’s not so hard getting parts….but,” you swallow. “I also buy some stuff with my…own…” you stand up and walk back. “Money.” You take one more bite and munch.

Your dad scoffs softly as if he’s amused by your comment and looks back at you with a smug smirk. “<Tell me, how does an intern get enough money to make this, hm?>”

You hum and act innocent. “Oh, you know…” you trail off and finish the doughnut in your hand.

He sees right through you though, with that narrowed gaze of his.

“Work,” you finish and begin to walk towards your other table that’s in the middle of your room. “Different jobs from my…contact.” There’s no need to lie…he’s been very contradicting tonight.

Nevertheless, your dad steps away from where he was standing to walk over to the table you were at. He picks up some random screwdriver and twirls it around as he seems lost in thought.

You sigh and talk softly. “I know you said that I shouldn’t be—”

“<I don’t care,” he cuts you off, and makes you furrow your eyebrows and grow a bit confused by more of his contradiction. He then looks up at you and puts the screwdriver down. “If you want to get in that business then do it, you’re an adult now. You’re smart. All I ask is not to deal with gods who want you as their avatar. That is not the life I want for you.>”

You scoff in amusement and try to add something, but he then walks over to you and grabs your shoulders to make you listen.

“<I’m being serious, none of that. Promise me.>”

You grab your dad's arms and retort. “I can’t,” you say softly. “Because if accepting some deal with Khonshu, or whoever else asks means I get to save your life again I’ll do it.” You offer him a soft smile and cup his jaw. “I don’t want to lose you again, pa. Neither of you.”

The corner of your dads lips pull to a soft smile, and his eyes soften as he hears your words. “<I’m sorry,” he shares softly. “I wasn’t there when you needed me the most. I’m sorry…” his eyes get watery, and he then cups your jaw with both hands, making sure not to touch the wound he just taped up. “It was stupid. I’m sorry.>”

Tears flood your eyes and your smile trembles. No words escape past your lips so you pull him in for an embrace.

“It’s going to take some time, but we can work it out, okay?” You assure him softly.

Your dad nods and holds onto you tighter. “<Okay,>” he mumbles. “<That’s fine.>”

Tears escape past your eyes, and a wobbly grin spreads on your face before you remember your commitment on Sunday. And since he’s so positive about your side hustles, maybe this could be, like, a perfect last day thing before he goes back to London.

“<Ey,” you begin to say in Spanish and pull away to face him with a bit more of a beaming excitement. “On Sunday, I have this job…it’s kind of big in a way since the artifact is at an auction…would you…” you sigh and grow quieter. “Want to come with me? And be my partner? Or group,” you laugh nervously. “Whatever, if Steven wants to join in too.>” You begin to bite the inside of your cheek and feel your smile falter as you wait for his answer in anticipation.

Your dad pulls away and his own smile falls as he goes serious and remains quiet, making you grow almost regretful.

Maybe he wasn’t that okay with you doing your jobs.

“<I…would love to go be your partner, sweetheart.>” He says with a smile, making you scoff and begin to grin in relief, and a hint of mischievousness.

——

*LATER THAT SAME NIGHT*

Perhaps it’s the painkillers that you took after your dad left, or maybe it’s the simple fact that you were happy over the fact that your dad really finally apologized and you were working towards a better path. Or maybe it’s just you resisting to go to sleep. But currently your mind is fired up as you eat the last doughnut and dance around your living room to ‘Dancing In The Dark’ by Bruce Springsteen.

That was one of the best pros about living alone now; you can dance around your living all wildly with a doughnut in your mouth and no one can say shit.

Well your neighbors can, but they’re all young and cool, so they don’t care.

You jump onto your small couch and swing your head with crumbs flying everywhere, before you hop off and spin and jump around, making sure not to bump into any of your tools or gadgets you had scattered around your house.

You dance towards a cabinet near the kitchen to swipe a bottle of wine.

Yet before you can open that said object a knock hits your window, causing you to jump and spin around with your mouth full. That's when you see Spider-Man outside your window on your fire escape.

Fuck did he see you dancing?

You run over and lower the music before running over to open your window.

“Spidey?” You ask in disbelief as you study him to assure yourself that he’s actually here.

Albeit it’s as you’re studying him that you see the two thin bleeding gashes on his side.

“Hey,” he interjects with a small groan as if it pains him to talk. “I just…I came because I need help. I had…no one else….”

.

.

.

A/N- GET READY FOR THE NEXT CHAPTER BITCHES ITS GONNA BE EXCITING AND THERES A VERY COOL SURPRISE!!

Tagged: @broadwaytraaaaash @jasminemohmed @beloved-reblogger @seninjakitey @anonoussy @mateihavenoidea

[thelegofamilyau]

The 100 yard stare

For all the fun of Logan, for every bad song, every punch in the arm, every laugh there was something beneath the surface.

Logans 100 yard stare.

It was quiet often the dream chasers found Logan's stare and it never failed to chill them to the bone.

For Cooper, the frist time he saw it was at coney island.

Cooper had steped away to take Mateos phone call. It was the fight that almost ruined there friend ship. As Cooper yelled into the phone he walked over to where he saw Logan on the dock.

Cooper froze seeing him.

Logan, leaning back with his hands in his hoodie pocket. He stared into the sky. Cooper fallowed his gaze and looked at the lightning that flashed in the sky. He felt the wind pick up as Mateo hung up on him.

There was a flash before Logan turned his head to Cooper. It was almost like Logan had to flip a swtitch before he put on a grin.

"So what did that loser want?" Logan laughed as he wrapped his arm around Coopers shoulders.

And while Izzie is the most hyper active person on the planet she saw it too. At lunch.

There was on day a week where she thought none of her friends had the same lunch as her. That was until she found Logan sitting alone in the cafeteria. It was the strangest thing. Seeing him frown. His eyes locked onto a cup of ice. Just ice. And he just sat there staring, no, watching, watching ice melt. She almost saw tears well up in his eyes.

That was until Logan saw her. He quickly jumped onto his seat and yelled- "Izzie! Over here!"

Logans smile had always been infectious so she forgot about it immediately as she ran over.

Zoey thinks when she discovered Logans 100 yard stare was the scariest. They where on a mission in the dream world when they fell into a cavern made of dirt. Not even anything fun like chocolate dirt or a cave of crystals, just dirt.

"We have your signal, we'll be there in 5 minutes dont move" Albert said over the coms. Zoey dream crafted a purple light to fill the cave and that's when she saw it.

Logan was staring at his feet as he dugg the toes of his shoes into the dirt. His stare hard and cold but Zosy could see longing in his eyes. But to her it was terrifying. And it was terrifying because she knew that look. She had that look when her mom died and her dad left. The look of having someone important ripped away from you. And also the determination to do whatever it takes to get them back.

But as soon as the rope dropped down into the cave Logan shot up and cheered. "Finally! What took ya guys!?"

And the last dream chaser to see Logans stare was Mateo. The two had been partnered on a mission and surprisingly Logan hadn't complained. Which Mateo felt weird about. They had decided to take a break, the part of the dream world they where in was dark so they made a fire. About 10 minutes had passed when Logan caught Mateo's eye. Logan was staring into the dancing flames of the fire. And Mateo doubted Logan even felt the tears run down his face.

"Mateo. Promise me something." Logan stare didn't break, and at this point Mateo wasn't even 100% sure he was taking to the real Logan. "Promise me. Promise me you'll kill the nightmare king the frist chance you get." And Mateo had no idea why Logan would ask him of such a thing. And he especially didn't know why he said. "I will."

But he's glad he did. Because as soon as Mateo stabed the Nightmare king to death with his pencil and the former king turned to sand a door appeared and opened.

Logan fell to his knees infront of the dream chasers as they watched 4 men walk through the door.

The ninja of Lightening.

The ninja of Ice.

The ninja of Earth.

And the ninja of Fire.

Logans eyes never left the ninja as he sobbed.

"Logan?" The Fire ninja asked with a broken voice.

Zoey went to Logans side and the others fallowed. She grabed his arm and Mateo grabed the other. And with the help of Izzie and Cooper they lifted Logan up.

Logan sniffed, breathing in all his snot. He looked around him at his friends before he wiped his face.

"Are....are you the ninja? Are you Kai, Cole, Zane and Jay?" Logans eyes finally turned back to the ninja. "Are you my fathers?"

It wasn't even a second later Logan was in there arms.

Logan had known it was prophecies that a powerful dreamer, with the ability to create life in and out of the dream world would kill that nightmare king. And Logan had known that when the Nightmare king was killed, the portal to home would open to him. And home he was taken from at not even a month old.

Logan looked at Mateo through the limbs of his fathers. He smiled as he stared at his friends. "Thank you" was all he managed.

Thank you.

Thank you for seeing me.

Thank you for understanding.

Thank you for bringing me home.

Thank you for being my home.

[winterspiderpurrs]

I read your recent post , and I have a prompt idea, steve and bucky are married and want to add peter, but he doesn't know and thinks they are just being nice to him while in reality they are flirting with him, i know perhaps it has been done before but I really like this kind of fics so i tought i would ask. Thank you 🙂

It started out simple. Steve and Bucky both individually inviting Peter out to different outings. Coffee shops, art galleries, car shows, breakfast here lunch there.

Then as a couple taking Peter out to dinners, dates to Coney Island, walks through central park. Of course Peter didn't think much of it. He knew that Steve and Bucky were together so he never allowed to himself to think that they could be trying to flirt/date with him.

So what if sometimes they all cuddle together on the couch for movie night. Or how Steve is always running his fingers through his hair. Bucky holding his hand on walks. Even when he leaves for the night they kiss him on the cheek after they walk him to his door.

Its even to where they call/facetime him when they don't hang out. And that one time when that Peter managed to convince them to go clubbing. After someone one tried to buy Peter a drink and they got extremely overprotective. They all three danced together with Peter smushed between them. Peter thought maybe alcohol was finally affecting him and his memory of that night.

And maybe Steve and Bucky thought that Peter was on board already til Peter was having a no good terrible rotten worst day ever. He lets it slip out that he is tired of being alone. Hated his lonely twin mattress, how he wished he had someone like how Steve and Bucky have each other.

" Doll, we have been dating you for months, didn't you know?"

" Queens, we don't invite just anyone to date night or to have sleepovers"

" Oh. ... but what...no. ummm.... really? "

" Doll we got to have a serious talk. You even have a draw of clothes at our place"

" Hey! I thought ya was just being nice! "

*-*-*-*-*-*-*-**-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*

I have several little prompts or ones shot short ficlet like this BUT I LOVE these types of scenarios! Which is why I always play around with it! Hope you liked it!

[justcallme-bucky]

Were you ever scared that you would lose Steve in the War?

I lost Steve every time we went somewhere back in the 40s. The movies? Outside getting his ass handed to him because he told someone to be quiet. Stark Expo? Off forging documents for the umpteenth time to join the Army. Coney Island? Off in an alleyway vomiting up his lunch after the coaster. That man needs a goddamn tracking chip.

Oh...you meant....right. Nah, he seemed pretty indestructible and it was more about feeling useless since he no longer needed my protection and losing him to a new life without me. Thanks for bringing back those rough memories. But hey, I didn't have to worry for too long, i fell off a fucking train and was left for dead and experimented on for 70 years.

@cap-steverogers

[gay-jewish-bucky]

Thinking about Steve and Bucky going swimming at Rockaway beach near Coney Island like they used to as kids. Often, they'll invite Sam and Nat and Maria, and pack a picnic lunch and just have fun together (Bucky often ending up as a sand mermaid when he takes a nap).

[spartansuttons]

Quick trip downtown to set up some new chairs in my office. Lauren and G with a little downtown exploration, a stop at the Nike Store, and then American Coney Island for lunch!

[lnsfawwi]

it started with an anniversary gift.

"95th anniversary of the first time we met." steve said, shoving a bento box his way.

"you mean the first time I saved your ass." bucky took the lunch box, opened it, and stared. "what is this?"

"bento box. lunch. it's rice with..."

"I know what it is, steve. but what the hell is this?" bucky pointed at the heart-shaped rice, the lemon slices on top of the salmon that were also put together like a heart and the vegie salad that shined suspiciously. there was also a stick-it note on the inside of the box that just said 'love, steve'.

steve actually flushed. "I saw this on the internet. apparently women in Japan do this for their husbands to show affection."

"first of all, women in Japan deserve better. second of all," bucky smirked, "are you saying you want to be my housewife, stevie?"

"shuddup, jerk, I was trynna be romantic."

"it is. I love it. actually, lemme show you how much I love it."

oh bucky loved it.

the presents just kept coming, and getting more random as the occasion got more random as well.

bucky got a bunch of hair ties for international women's day ("they are on sale, buck!"), all the different kinds of hotdogs from the nathan's in coney island for international children's day because they loved that as kids, a bottle of artisan moonshine (which bucky refused to believe was a thing, like what the hell was so artsy about moonshine?) on george barnes' birthday because even during the prohibition old barnes always had some stash, a nice custom-made pistol on the 10th anniversary of the day steve peeled off the mask from bucky's face ("this's twisted, rogers."), a beautiful bouquet of flowers just because.

bucky never expected to get something for international mother's day though.

bucky was wakened by a series of kisses and greeted by a nice breakfast in bed. it was lovely, but also weird. "are you pregnant?"

"I hope not."

"then what's all this?"

"it's mother's day."

"so?"

"so you are the mom friend of our little friend circle!" steve said cheerfully. "happy mother's day!"

"why do I tolerate you?"

"cus you love me."

"unfortunately."

[nuagederose]

Dark Roots of Earth | Chapter Fourteen: Hold on My Heart

ao3 link

It was nice to be reunited with Kenny once again as Christine rode along in the front seat of his car with the window rolled down and her arm up on the top of the door. They had just had lunch and now he was driving her back home, windows down to feel the cool night air and the smell of the city all around them. Even with the lights bearing down on her, and even with the exhaust of the cars all around them on the expressway, she still found herself in a moment's bliss. Her father had recovered and was now in the process of rehabilitating. She had to relish every moment she had with him, even when he dropped her off at her place and bestowed her with a hug.

“Give your mom my love,” he told her with a kiss on the forehead and another hearty embrace. All evening long, she dared not tell him about Alex, and she especially dared not say it to him there as she was preparing to head on back up to her place for the night.

She thought about telling Eric about it in the morning, that she and Alex had seen Kenny with Nelly at Coney Island with absolutely no explanation whatsoever. Indeed, Kenny never mentioned it once to her that whole entire evening, and there was no way that she could bring it up to him, either. And yet, she still had her questions about, in particular as to why.

Why Nelly, and why her father of all people to get together, and at Coney Island no less. She also couldn't shake the memory of Captain Howdy being right across the boardwalk from them, as well. So many things ran through her mind right then, and more so when she reached her apartment door and unlocked it. The apartment across the way was quiet, and she assumed that Wendy had gone to bed for the night: it was nearly eleven thirty at that point, after all.

The middle of the night, and yet she had some unfinished business for the day.

Once she had shut the door and locked it behind her, she took her phone out of her pocket and walked on back to her bedroom for a change of her clothes into a little camisole and nothing else. She then parked herself on the edge of her bed with the little monkey Alex had won for her right next to her. She searched for his number in her address book and called him.

It only rang once when he picked up.

“Hey, my Strawberry Girl, I was just thinking about you,” he said to her as part of her greeting.

“I just got home,” she replied as she slid back onto the bed and crossed her legs. She held the monkey up to her body and leaned back against the wall next to the bed.

“So, how was your day?” he asked her in a somewhat tired sounding voice.

“It was nice,” she replied. “My dad took me to a late lunch and then I went back to his place for a bit to play a little game of catch-up of sorts. It's been a while since I've been over there, too.”

She then shifted her weight. The mere thought of him by her sie was giving her a warm feeling in her stomach, something that she swore only came to her in the months when the shadows grew long early on.

“I did like hanging out with you today, though,” she added.

“You know I always like hanging out with you,” he said back to her. “You and me, we should be doing stuff always. That is, when you aren't doing stuff with your parents or your friends, anyways.”

She smiled to herself even if he couldn't see her.

“Listen, I go in for summer school sessions all the way to the Fourth, which is when those shows take place for me, but let's do something the week after, though. I have some time off then. You and I, we can do something together.”

“Syracuse, maybe?” she suggested.

“Syracuse, or maybe... another place I was thinking of was Hershey.”

“You just wanna eat a bunch of chocolate,” she teased him.

“Hey, I get paid again,” he pointed out without missing a beat. “I wanna spoil you. I wanna spoil you and... have a little fun, too. A part of me wants to come on over after school on Monday and make the two of us come together, if you catch my drift.”

“I always catch your drift,” she teased him, and she couldn't help but chuckle at herself.

“Catch my drift as it flows closer to you during class,” he went along with it.

“I really love hearing you talk dirty to me through the phone,” she confessed to him. “Probably more so here than in person.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, I mean... I'm in bed. I'm in my jammies, or my underwear. Or in the buff.”

“Which is it?” he asked her.

“What do you think?” she retorted back to him.

“I'm afraid to say,” he confessed.

“You know, it's the damnedest thing. I often feel afraid to say, too.”

“Like... with me?” He snickered as he said that.

“Yeah. I often wonder what you're wearing or lack thereof but I'm afraid to ask.”

“Remember, fear is our primeval emotion,” he pointed out. “I think... you're not wearing anything but your panties. And I'm picturing you with your hand down the front. Now, tell me. What do you picture with me right now?”

“You're wearing a tight shirt that buttons, and you have the collar open all the way so I can see your chest and that lush chest hair of yours. You've got your hair down over your shoulders, and it's all tightly curled because you just got out of the shower. You just got out of the shower, and I can't help but picture you in the buff all drenched.”

He let out a low whistle right then.

“What color is my shirt, by the way?” he asked her.

“Black,” she replied. “No, white. You're wearing a pearly white shirt with snug black jeans. Snug black jeans with a big leather belt and a shiny silver buckle. The white adds to the beauty of your chest and your belly while the black accentuates every curve of your legs and your hips. You show me your chest, and more so when you tuck your hands into your back pockets.” She nibbled on her bottom lip right then, and she thought of making his fantasy come true right then. “The glasses also stay on, too. You can't officially be my sexy nerd without those glasses.”

“Can I just say... I love how tender you are,” he confessed to her, and it almost sounded as though he was the one touching himself right then given the slight strain to his voice. “It feels a lot more honest than what I'm thinking of.”

“Seriously? You shared your fantasy with me and it had me swooning a bit.”

“I feel like I just gleaned over it,” he confessed. “I don't know, you feel more in touch with yourself than you are with me.” He then cleared his throat. “I like that. You know me, Christine, I like honesty. I like honesty and I'm a sucker for emotions, too.”

“Then again, everyone should,” she declared.

“Everyone should, exactly!” He treated her to that big hearty laugh of his, only to be followed up with a yawn. “I don't know why I'm so tired.”

“You're getting older?” she asked him.

“Nah, I don't think it's that because this is the first night in a long time I've felt this way. Again, you know me, Christine. I'm usually up until one or two o'clock in the morning and I get up at around seven or eight. She got really demanding today, especially since I thought today was going to be about you and me...” His voice trailed off. She pursed her lips as she knew the answer to it all, and yet, she lacked the courage to say it to him straight up. She held that little monkey that he had won for her close to her chest as if it was about to get away from her.

“The next trio show is the Fourth of July, you said?”

“Fourth of July weekend, yes,” he replied as he came back down to Earth. “I have that, plus a couple of more. And then you and I, we can do our thing together.”

“To Hershey?” she asked him in a near whisper.

“To The Sweetest Place on Earth,” he followed up. “Made sweeter by the fact it'll just be you and me.”

“You have a good night and sleep tight for me,” she told him.

“And you sleep tight me, too,” he retorted with a chuckle. “I'll call you again when I get up tomorrow.”

“I'll be waiting.” He blew her a kiss over the phone, and they hung up at the same time. Christine then placed her phone on the top of the desk, complete with a dreamy sigh through her nose. She lay down in her bed, although she reached up and switched off her lamp before she lay down all the way. She then rolled over onto her side and tugged the bedsheet up to her ear even though it was a warm evening, and she held the monkey in her arms close to her chest. She smiled to herself as she pictured Alex next to her with his arms around her and her head pressed against his chest to hear his heartbeat.

That steady ebb and flow that she knew would always rock her to sleep.

The next thing she knew, she awoke to the sound of her phone ringing, and she swore that it was happening in the next room over. But she rolled over onto her back and reached for it there on the her desk. Through the slumber still riddled in her eyes, she looked on at the thin stripe on the back and her heart skipped a beat when she realized that he had kept his promise.

She flipped open the phone and held it to her ear even as she lay flat on her back with her free hand down on her chest.

“Good morning, my love,” his voice drifted onto her phone.

“Good morning,” she replied, and she sat up in bed with a stretch of one arm over her head.

“Let me guess, you just woke up,” he said; she could tell that he, too, had just woken up himself.

“As a matter of fact, I did...” Christine rubbed her eyes with the inside of one hand. “I'm wanting breakfast with you again.”

“What I would give to have breakfast with you again. Unfortunately, I'm not all that hungry.”

“Wow, Alex isn't hungry. The world is ending.”

He chuckled at that, and then he gasped. “Oh, sit tight, Christine Sixteen—I have another call coming in.”

“I'll be right here,” she promised him, and he clicked over onto the other line. She thought about making breakfast and bringing it over to him for that morning, especially when it gave her the idea to feed it to him by hand. Indeed, she pictured herself spooning in some scrambled eggs and a piece of sourdough toast into his mouth as he had his hands tied behind his back. It was a fantasy that emerged out of the blue, but she pictured it nonetheless, and it made her smile to herself. She then thought about the fantasy she had shared with him the night before, in how she pictured him dressed in the white shirt and black pants. No way she could do it to him until a button came clean off, but she wanted him full until the shirt hugged his thick body for her.

He then came back onto their line with a sigh.

“What's up?” she asked him.

“God damn it,” he moaned, and she could hear him on the other end. “I'm sorry, my Strawberry Girl. I have to go. Some things came up and now... I don't know what awaits me for that marathon of shows coming up here.”

“Wait, are we still on for the days after the Fourth of July weekend, though?” she asked him, slightly taken aback.

“I'm really not sure. I thought it was dead set last night, but I guess not.” She could hear it in his voice. He wanted it to happen, for them to be in Hershey together following that literal marathon of shows together.

“You have found your way into my heart,” he continued. “I can't imagine life without you. I promise you that I'll keep you updated about it—” And he hung up before either of them could get a word in to each other.

“I love you,” Christine said anyway. She lay her phone down in her lap as the dial tone continued to ring out from the ear piece. She closed her eyes and bowed her head.

“Son of a bitch,” was all she could muster right then.