#especially if i put animal flash cards on the ceiling

[cuppatealove]

Guys, if you ever have to give eye drops to little kids, sit on the floor and lie them down between your legs, head towards you, arms pinned under your legs and head held still with your thighs. I cannot tell you what a lifesaver this hack is when you're faced with a screaming toddler with gunky eyes and vice-like grip strength.

(Though if they're not your kids, maybe shove a teddy bear or something between their head and your crotch 😅 And obv run it by the parents.)

[wonderlustlucas]

mistletoe? oh no! - im jaebeom

⇢ prompt Why do we kiss under a mistletoe when it’s a parasitic plant that steals nutrients from its host tree? ⇢ pairing jaebeom x female reader ⇢ word count 6.9k ⇢ genre fluff ⇢ warnings swearing. alcohol. suggestive make out at the end :D ⇢ summary Six months ago, you drunkenly kissed Im Jaebeom on a beach trip with your friends. Afterward, the awkward tension kept the two of you from ever having the ‘What are we?’ talk and eventually, too much time had passed for anything to ever happen. Luckily, Pollyanna and a stupidly placed mistletoe have brought your feelings to the boiling point.—friends to lovers!au ⇢ a/n happy new year’s my loves! as one last hurrah for 2019 & as part of @kwritersworld‘s holiday writing event, here is yet another idiots to lovers, christmas/nye au! here’s to a lovely new year, & new decade. i hope you all have a blessed, joyous, & prosperous year. i love you! ♥︎

You once thought that you were an introvert.

You know— someone deemed shy, with a preference to keep to themselves rather than going out of their way to interact with others. Introvert. Opposite of extrovert.

It wasn’t until you were a senior in high school did you learn new definitions for these personality categories. An introvert—according to your philosophy teacher and a TED Talk speaker shown on the projector during class—is someone who, simply put, thinks of how they feel before speaking. Extroverts, on the other hand, only identify their true feelings on a topic after they have begun discussing it.

The lesson stuck with you. Albeit your perpetual reservation from others, you were always one to argue. Smart, excellent report card over the years— but found yourself blurting your opinion out at the first chance before fully thinking it through. Now, you concluded, I suppose I’m an extrovert if that truly is what it means. This knowledge, for some strange reason, gave you a token for change. If I’m an extrovert, you thought, I must start acting one.

Now, having just been accepted into law school, you think you have hit the nail on the head when it comes to meeting both definitions of an extrovert. Park Jinyoung, on the other hand, has his doubts.

“Are you sure you want to do this? Have you really thought about what this is gonna do to your life?” Despite the genuine concern laced in his tone, Jinyoung’s words make you wince. How he manages to suck the life out of a celebratory night out for drinks truly is beyond you.

“Yes, Jinyoung,” you groan, taking a desperate sip of your coquito like it’s really going to help against his insufferableness, “I’ve only been working for this for a few years, let me change my mind now.”

“You didn’t answer the question,” he counters, leaning in close enough for you to taste his Jo Malone fragrance on your tongue. You raise a skeptical brow at him. “Have you thought about what becoming a lawyer is going to make of your life?” His words are clipped and emphasized like he is speaking to a child, trying desperately to get his point across.

“I appreciate you looking out for me and my future, Jinyoung,” you sigh, reclining back in your bar stool because sitting that close to Jinyoung for that long makes your head dizzy, “but I promise you, I have thought about this. I know I have a lot of hard work ahead of me, but it’s what I want to do. I promise.”

Jinyoung huffs, defeated, before tipping his wine glass back and chugging what is left like some sort of animal. Very not Jinyoung-like. “Well, then I guess there’s no reason to not celebrate with you,” he grins. Then, not even a beat later, “When are you gonna make time to marry Jaebeom and have a bunch of sexy little babies?”

“Aw, for crying out loud!” You howl, slapping a hand to your forehead before turning to him with a pointed glare and a pointed finger. “Okay, first of all, the fact that you used sexy and babies in the same sentence concerns me. And second, stop saying me and Jaebeom are going to get married! He doesn’t even look at me, how do you equate marriage out of that?”

“You mean, you don’t look at him. You guys had a great time when we went to the beach not even six months ago, saw each other half naked, shared a drunken kiss before bed, and then dropped all communication! What the hell is up with that?” Jinyoung has a habit of lecturing you like it’s his full-time job and it drives you absolutely insane because he’s always right.

“I don’t wanna talk about it,” you mumble, bringing your glass to your lips and taking a lengthy sip just to buy some time. “Come on, ___. My boy is out here drowning in unrequited love while you’re just all ‘Teehee! I’m a lawyer! Don’t talk to me when I’m doing lawyer tings!’ Cut the bullshit and let him take you on a date and blow your back out for Christ’s sake!”

You are physically unable to suppress your laughter, hand flying to cover your mouth and head thrown back at his comical outburst. He’s lucky you love him or else he would seriously regret that outrageously inaccurate imitation of your voice. He’s lucky you are tipsy enough to lose yourself in laughter and he’s especially lucky that he is correct, once again.

“Jinyoung,” you wheeze, letting out one more breathless giggle before flipping on the serious mode switch, “I would love to not only go out on a date with Jaebeom, but to date him. But things got awkward and so much time as passed that suddenly starting things up again would be weird. Don’t you think?”

“No!” Jinyoung yells. Half the people at the bar jump at the noise and turn to glare. You do just the same before shooting an older gentleman beside Jinyoung an apologetic look. “I just don’t think you’re drinking enough.”

“Yes,” then, a pause to ask the bartender for the check now that Jinyoung’s lectures are starting to put a downer on you, “that’s exactly it. I’m afraid to get drunk off my ass when Jaebeom’s around because I’ll do something stupid and either scare him off or bring him home and both are terrible options!”

“You’re no fun,” Jinyoung scoffs, “my two best friends, both pining after one another, but pulling the sixteen-year-old card and not talking to each other. Great! Just great.”

You laugh, hopping down from your seat and patting his knee once you have slipped on your coat. “Buy a mistletoe for the Christmas party and maybe something can be arranged.”

Jinyoung doesn’t find it funny.

For the past six years, it has been tradition for you and your friends to have a belated Christmas slash New Year’s party where Pollyanna gifts are exchanged and an excessive amount of alcohol is consumed because, well, your friends are fun. For the past three, however, you have been holding said party at Youngjae’s house, because he is the only one who has a house and houses are infinitely better for parties than apartments. Plus, Youngjae is a gracious man who welcomes the company year after year. Can’t understand why he wants nine psychopaths in his lovely little abode, but that’s not your problem.

What is your problem is the fact that there actually is a mistletoe hanging from the ceiling fan in the kitchen. You’re going to kill Jinyoung.

You once thought Choi Youngjae was the coolest person to bless the planet. Now, you’re not so sure.

It’s the first thing your eye goes to upon entering Youngjae’s outrageously beautiful row home. Usually, you need a solid ten minutes to accept the fact that you will never become a model and have as many zeroes at the end of your savings as Youngjae, spending way too much time swooning over his grey vinyl wood floors and brick fireplace and white marble countertops. This time, however, while Jinyoung and Yugyeom do the whole bro hug greeting after wiping the snow from their shoes, you stand pressed up awkwardly against the front door, crockpot of buffalo chicken dip in hand, glaring at the stupid thing from two rooms over. Before you can turn an accusing finger to Jinyoung, Youngjae has turned to welcome you.

“You made it!” He cheers, flashing that thousand-watt smile of his and easing some of the tension that has begun to build up in your nerves like plaque. “Somehow, someway,” you return, relaxing into his embrace when he curves around the precious chicken dip to offer a half hug. “You need a drink,” Youngjae decides after having evaluated the lack of excitement in your response. Following after Jinyoung and Yugyeom, he leads you into the kitchen with a lively bounce to his step. “Bambam just finished making hot toddies, or you could be the first to take from our jell-o shot Christmas tree.”

He gestures to said “tree” on his dining table, a neatly stacked pile of green, red, and blue jell-o shots and you feel awfully terrible at having to ruin its perfected assembly. “It’s beautiful,” you muse, setting the crockpot on the counter and plugging its cord into an outlet, “it would be my honor to have the first one.”

“___!” Hollers Jackson as he slides open the door from the back patio and enters the kitchen, Maggie filing in after him. He must have joined her for a smoke outside. He proceeds to do a little dance shimmy as he makes his way over to you. “Jackson, my love,” you grin, squeezing him into a tight hug after he slaps a messy kiss to your cheek. “How are you, Miss I-Got-Accepted-Into-Law-School?”

That is going to be the topic of discussion for the night, it seems, and the heat of an embarrassed blush works its way up your neck at the realization. “I’m good. Really good, actually,” you say, directing your attention to Maggie who slips around Jackson to tuck into your side, “definitely not as stressed as I was. The holidays are a nice break from everything.”

“We’re all so proud of you,” Maggie hums, leaning her head on your shoulder.

“Seriously, congratulations, again. You deserve it,” Jackson praises, reaching to squeeze your cheek. You swat his hand away in fear he will mess up the foundation you spent way too much time applying.

“Thank you, guys. I’m glad someone is happy for me,” you grumble, directing a cold glare to Jinyoung who, somehow, has already managed to fire Yugyeom up.

“What?” Bambam interjects, jumping into the conversation now that he has made his way into the room. “Didn’t you guys go out when you got accepted?”

“Yeah,” you sigh, smiling to the very expensive looking boy, “but he’s more worried than excited. Thinks I’m not considering how becoming a lawyer is going to affect my future, the stress of it, having a family, but…”

Maggie scoffs. “God, he sounds like your dad.”

“Tell me about it.”

“Ugh! Everyone, shoo! Why are we all in the kitchen? Go sit in the living room,” Youngjae hisses, grabbing Bambam by the shoulders and shoving him out of the room. Bambam makes a sound of protest, gesturing dramatically to all the food and the pot of hot toddy still on the stove.

“You can come back when there isn’t an entire crowd in here,” Youngjae counters, slapping a handful of jell-o shots into his hands, “I made Yugyeom promise to not eat all of ___’s dip, you don’t need to worry.” Bambam grumbles in response, stumbling after the others and you follow suit with a laugh.

Pausing just before the living room, Bambam stops to pass everyone a shot. “Here’s to Christmas and getting Jaebeom and ___ to kiss under the mistletoe.”

“Stop!” You whine, just as the rest ‘clink’ their cups and shout, “Cheers!” Nevertheless, down the hatch the jell-o goes and you glare at them all once they are done.

“Oh, speak of the Devil,” Yugyeom snickers just as you have ran ahead to crash down on the sofa, stretching your legs out across the chaise. Rolling over off your stomach, you turn to watch Mark, Jaebeom, and Shelby arrive, one too many gift bags and bottles of wine in hand. “Oh,” Maggie whispers from beside you, elbow nudging into your side, “look at your man.”

Funny thing is, you already are. To give you the benefit of the doubt— you were already watching the trio stumble into the room anyway, but it just so happened you stopped at Jaebeom. Before things between you got complicated, when you were just friends, he always had a way of stealing the oxygen from your lungs. Now is no different.

Dressed in black slacks, a white tee tucked in and a baby blue blazer to top it all off, Jaebeom looks nothing short of marvelous. He’s been growing his hair out, too, the black waves curling down to brush his cheekbones, screaming to be combed through with your fingers. And oh Christ, you can’t even begin to talk about the nose piercing. In the midst of your swooning, Jaebeom looks up after having deemed his sneakers clean enough to walk through Youngjae’s home, scanning the room before conveniently landing on you. The blush on both of your faces is instantaneous, hardly a second of maintaining eye contact before the embarrassment burns too hot and you turn away. Still, you can’t fight your smile.

Neither can he.

“Now the party’s started!” Mark hoots, swinging two bottles in the air like he’s asking for disaster. “Hurry and put everything down so we can play something,” Yugyeom whines from his seat across the room, pushing Jaebeom’s butt to move faster. “Patience is a virtue, Yugyeom,” Jinyoung comments, throwing a Hershey Kiss wrapper at him.

“Absolute children,” Maggie mutters. You hum in agreement.

“Do you wanna play the alphabet game?” Bambam proposes, earning a groan from Jackson. He hates the game, despite how often you all play it, claiming it takes too much brain power for a party.

“Yes! I’m down,” Shelby shouts anyway, having returned in time to hear Bambam’s question. To Jackson’s misery, you all agree as well.

“Youngjae!” Bambam shouts, waiting for him to yell back. “Grab the peppermint vodka when you come in! We’re playing the alphabet game!”

The way you all play most likely has deviated from the original rules of the game, but it works and it’s fun. Sitting in a circle, you go through the alphabet, naming something in a certain category that begins with whatever letter you’re on. For example, if you were doing fruits and were on the letter W, you could say watermelon. But, the person to your right is counting to ten, and once that time is up, you have to take a shot and the letter moves on to the next person until someone gets a word. Sounds easy, until you’re three shots in and not even halfway through the alphabet.

With Shelby collapsing down between Yugyeom and Jackson on the love seat, Youngjae on the armchair by the fireplace, and Mark on the bean bag brought down from upstairs, you realize with a rising sense of panic that the only possible seating for Jaebeom is by—

“Hey,” he says, tapping your outstretched legs, “can I sit here? You can keep your legs stretched. I don’t mind.”

“Oh, sure, sure!” You squeak, jerking to sit up and to pull your legs to your chest. However, just as he sits, he grabs your ankles to tug them back. Hesitantly, and with an appreciative smile sent his way, you hesitantly lay your legs over his lap, his arms comfortably rested over them. Oh, fuck.

Swallowing hard and trying to ignore the way your heart flutters in her chest, you turn back to your friends where the game is just starting.

“Okay, I’ll start since I’m in the middle,” Mark announces, readjusting himself in the bean bag to sit closer to the coffee table, “Yugyeom, you count. Actually, you don’t need to, I already have my word. A, as in artificial tree.”

“One word, idiot,” Youngjae scoffs, smacking the back of Mark’s head, “take a shot. Yugyeom, you go.”

The younger boy pales, panicking when Mark does as he is told. Then, he blurts, “A as in angel!”

“B as in bells!” Shelby shouts.

“C as in… Christmas,” Jackson says with a wink.

“D as in December,” Jinyoung hums nonchalantly.

“E as in eggnog!” Bambam cheers.

“F as in…” Maggie pales, trailing off. In your head, you start to count, while simultaneously trying to think of a holiday word that starts with F. “Festive!” She shouts suddenly. “Oh, shit, um��� G as in… gingerbread?” You huff, relieved.

“H as in holiday,” Jaebeom says with a soft smile. All eyes are on Youngjae as he stares hopelessly at the ceiling. “I, as in…”

In your head, you count alongside Mark. “What the fuck starts with I?” Youngjae hisses, slapping his knees anxiously. The silence is deafening until Mark shouts with a sadistic grin, “TEN!” Youngjae hangs his head low before reaching for the bottle. Ironic, because Mark can’t think of a word, and neither can Yugyeom, Shelby, or Jackson. Jinyoung grins at their expense until it’s his turn. “Icicle,” he says without a beat.

“That’s not Christmas-y!” Yugyeom whines, hands thrown up dramatically. “Can you think of anything better, stupid?” Jinyoung fires back, evidently shutting him up. Poor Yugyeom, he can never win.

“J as in Jesus,” Bambam says with a laugh.

“K? Bruh, you gotta be joking,” Maggie sighs, throwing her head back against the sofa, trying to concentrate. “Ten,” you sigh sadly even though you counted to fifteen, patting her knee and Youngjae passes her the bottle. “Um, K as in…” Christ, you can’t think of anything either. Kris Kringle? No, two words, fuck.

“Ten!” Jaebeom chuckles, squeezing your calf and you quickly take a swig with a wince. The round goes all the way to Shelby, who happily yells, “Kings!”

The game drags on, keeping you all at the edge of your seats by the time U and V come around. When it comes to W, everyone has had one too many shots to be able to think quickly enough to come up with wreath. Except for Jinyoung, of course. You give up on Z, deciding there is no such word and you all let out a relieved breath at the game’s conclusion. “Does this mean we can eat now?” Jackson mumbles, far too gone for a party that has only started hardly an hour ago.

“Yes! I’m ravenous,” Bambam groans, helping his friend stand. Together, they’re the first to make way into the kitchen and you’re surprised Youngjae doesn’t chase after them to make sure they don’t knock anything over.

“Well,” Jaebeom yawns and you are suddenly mortified to realize that your legs are still casually stretched out over his lap. “That was fun.” Swinging your legs away and moving to sit up, you nod in agreement. “Very fun. Love watching you and Jinyoung outsmart us every time.”

“Hey,” he frowns, elbowing your arm now that you’re sitting upright beside him, “nobody could think of tree for T, but you did, so shush.” You turn to give him an unamused look. “That’s because Jinyoung was overthinking, and Maggie and Bam drank too much,” you laugh, standing with a stretch. Jaebeom raises an eyebrow. “What?” You ask, unsure of what that look means.

“Why does your snowman have a cape? Oh—” he starts, lifting the fabric attached to the winking snowman on your ugly sweater to find a carrot penis below the three buttons. Jaebeom breaks out into laughter, face scrunched up and head thrown back and it consequently makes you laugh, too. Well, if there was any person that was going to ask first, you’re glad it was him. “Was not expecting that,” he chuckles, wiping the tears that have accumulated at his eyes before rising to stand and oh, suddenly you feel so small with him standing so close to you like that. God, he’s beautiful, you admire. Without thinking, you brush away a tuft of hair that has fallen over his eye, just to see your favorite pair of moles. It isn’t until rosiness blooms across his cheekbones do you realize what you just did.

“Sorry,” you rush breathlessly, taking a step back and turning to make sure nobody saw that. Luckily, only Shelby and Yugyeom remain, too busy cozying up to one another to notice. “___!” Maggie shouts from the kitchen like some godsent angel whose purpose is to save you from awkward moments. “You have to come see this!”

You shoot Jaebeom an awkward smile before swinging around him and making a beeline for the kitchen. Idiot, you scold yourself before taking a deep breath and bringing a smile to your face. “What?” You hum, leaning your head on Maggie’s shoulder. All it is is a SnapChat story of someone you went to university with, a picture of an engagement ring, but you are beyond grateful she called you in. After she stops to take a selfie with you, you navigate around your friends to start a pile of food on your plate, everything from dim sum (thanks, Jackson), grilled pork belly, kimbap, bulgogi sandwiches, spaghetti (thanks, Jackson, part two), and, of course, tortilla chips with your buffalo chicken dip. Big plate for big brain.

Despite the crowdedness, thankfully you are able to avoid standing anywhere close to the mistletoe once Jaebeom enters the room only a few moments later. Finally making your way to the dining table, you let out a sigh of relief now that you don’t have to worry about anything looming above. Of course, your friends have a different idea.

“___,” Maggie purrs just as you have set your plate down, gazing at you expectantly and fluttering her lashes.

“What do you want?”

“Could you get a water for me? There’s bottles in the fridge. Pleeeaaase?” She sings. You wave her off, having already turned around. Can’t be mad at her, honestly; you forgot to grab something for yourself to drink, anyway. Pulling two bottles off the shelves and nudging the refrigerator door closed, you’re just trying to grab a potato chip from the bowl on the counter when Mark rounds the corner and trips over his own feet, coincidentally falling towards you but when you step back to avoid the red wine sloshing in his glass, Jinyoung has suddenly appeared behind you and you stumble over his foot.

It’s a good plan, you think, expecting Jaebeom to catch you like some fucking knight of shining armor and steady you just below the mistletoe, but unfortunately for them, you’re quick to reach for the counter and Jaebeom has literally just turned around in his search for silverware. Regaining your balance against the cabinets, you do not miss the group’s combined groan of disappointment and can’t help but triumphantly grin. “You okay, Mark?” You ask, spinning around and suppressing a laugh at the ‘please don’t kill me’ look in the older boy’s eyes. “Yep,” he coughs, stepping to the side as you brush past.

Dinner is tense, to say the least. Maybe it’s just you. You’re annoyed, beyond so, at your friends’ lack of maturity. Relatively speaking, yes, they are trying to help push you and Jaebeom in the right direction, but their ways of operation lack any beneficial qualities. This is your problem, and you have to deal with it yourself.

You stay quiet, for the most part, occupying your thoughts simply on eating and the approaching excitement of Pollyanna. When you all picked out of a hat a little over a month ago, you initially panicked at Bambam’s name looking back at you on the folded piece of paper. As it turned out, buying gifts for him ended up working out; first, you found matching sweaters for him and his cats, then a travel set for his Bleu de Chanel cologne, a mermaid blanket he had found an Instagram ad for and wouldn’t shut up about, and finally a gift card to his favorite Thai restaurant. What’s more exciting is finding out who has your gifts. Plus, everyone did incredibly well keeping quiet this year, managing to make it all the way without slipping who had who.

Unfortunately, your irritable emotions aren’t done for the night. After finishing your much needed, sobering meal, your goblin friends are prepared to have you and Jaebeom beneath that mistletoe if it’s the last thing they will ever do. Trying to clean up before everyone really gets trashed is an absolute nightmare, everyone taking part in the scheme of leaving just the two of you in the room, nudging him your way, asking you to help Jaebeom do this, help Jaebeom do that. It only gets worse once he realizes what they’re trying to do, curving around you like you have the plague and each time you make eye contact, you contemplate fleeing to the bathroom just to scream.

After what feels like ages spent in the stifling kitchen, you migrate back to the living room to finally, finally open gifts. Good riddance, mistletoe. At everyone’s look of general disappointment, you let out your umpteenth relieved sigh of the night and collapse back into your precious spot at the sofa. You know you’re getting old when you have only been out for two and a half hours and you’re already exhausted.

To make matters worse—or better, you can’t really tell at this point—Jaebeom also sits back down beside you. You can tell he’s anxious; he’s gone back and forth between picking at his nails and a scab on his jaw for a while now and you almost want to say something until you remember how deliberately he dodged you in the kitchen. Maybe, just maybe, a part of you had hoped he would have taken the opportunity and kissed you himself. Why would things ever be so simple?

“Alrighty, friends,” settling into his chair, Youngjae beams. “Let’s get this party started. We’ll go in the same circle as before.”

In turn, Mark flashes that boyish smile of his and leans across the table to pass a bag and small box to Jinyoung. “Ooh,” the younger boy hums excitedly, “thanks, Mark.” Next, Yugyeom hands Jackson a bag, Shelby slides a big box to Youngjae, and, breaking into a fit of laughter, Jackson ends up giving a bag right back to Yugyeom. Jinyoung passes Maggie her gift, and when Bambam rises to hand Jaebeom a hefty bag, you can’t help but miss the way he glances sadly to you before smiling gratefully at his friend and engulfing him into a hug. Suddenly, it dawns on you that there are only three other people left, and watch with an impending sense of dread as Maggie walks across the room to give Shelby her gift. Two left.

Grinning excitedly, you lean over to pass Bambam his gift bag, earning a smile in return bright enough to put the Sun out of business. Now, the moment you all have been waiting for.

Sucking in a deep breath, you turn to Jaebeom, sending all prayers to God that he will rise to hand Mark the bag in his hands.

The universe laughs.

“Ugh,” Jaebeom groans, grinning like a Cheshire cat, “you’re so far.” He places the gift bag, which, is surprisingly heavier than expected, on your lap. “Thanks, Jae,” you manage, smiling fondly at him. Behind him, Youngjae drops a box by Mark’s feet, but by now everything around you has faded into the background, leaving only you and Jaebeom floating in the midst of it all. Even though he has turned away, you can’t stop staring at him. Why’d it have to be him? What are the chances? God, something tells you you’re going to fall in love by the time the night is over.

It isn’t until the tearing of wrapping paper registers in your mind do you snap out of it, coming back to reality and quickly redirecting your attention to opening your gift.

There’s a lot to unfold here, you think with a racing heart, removing the tissue paper and finding three separate items inside. You go for the small box first. It’s a jewelry box, no doubt, but this doesn’t keep the butterflies in your stomach at bay once you lift the beige lid to reveal a rose gold bracelet, diamonds in the pattern of a constellation. There’s a small card attached to the lid, too, and flipping that over you read that it is the constellation for your zodiac sign. “Jae,” you whimper, lips curling into a pout and he laughs at your touched expression. “This is beautiful.”

“Shh! Open everything first,” he hushes, waving you off and returning to his own gift.

Sucking in a deep breath, you do as you’re told and reach for the much larger box. Tearing open the wrapping paper and lifting the lid, you find a glass dome atop a wooden base, and inside is a beautiful red and gold rose with little fairy lights surrounding it. A Beauty and the Beast replicate, without a doubt, and it is so stunning you wish you could lift the glass and feel the fake rose for yourself. A man of taste, without a doubt.

Last but not least, you grab the envelope and excitedly tear it open, because envelopes mean one of three things: 1) a card 2) tickets 3) money, all unlikely options when it comes to Pollyanna.

Well, maybe not, because inside are two passes for the art museum up in the city. “Dude,” you kick Jaebeom’s ankle and stammer out, “how did you? When did you?”

He laughs. “You mentioned wanting to go a few months ago, and I didn’t think you ever got a chance. You haven’t, right?” He sounds worried. “No, I never got to go,” swallowing past the desert dryness of your throat, “thank you, Jaebeom. Everything is so beautiful.”

“Of course, ___,” he smiles, reaching for your hand and even though it’s only a gentle squeeze he gives you, it has your heart doing somersaults. “Anything for you.”

Oh, for fuck’s sake. You are going through some serious torture here and still won’t make a move!

Everyone is extraordinarily jovial after opening gifts. With Christmas music filling the room with cheer and one too many drinks being mixed, holiday charades and pin the nose on Rudolph are played with high spirits and excessive competitiveness. The night is fun, without a doubt, and you try to ignore the way your friends are still trying to get you and Jaebeom under the mistletoe no matter how annoying it may be. Why can’t they do it to Yugyeom and Shelby? Sure, everyone knows they fuck but neither of them have the balls to officially ask the other out, so why are you the one targeted? Jaebeom didn’t ask for this, either.

“Fuck!” Youngjae groans when Maggie makes her shot into their cup for jingle bell beer pong. Since freshman year, you and Maggie have fought back and forth for the champion's title against Youngjae and Jackson. With this being the second win against them for the night, you get to wear the label proud until next time. “Oh, yeah, baby!” She shouts, doing a funky celebratory dance before jumping to give you a hug.

“I’m a disgrace to the Chinese community,” Jackson cries—literally—before squatting to bury his face in his knees.

“HA!” You laugh mercilessly, jumping along with Maggie in triumph. “You guys are so mean,” Mark chuckles, walking away from their own losers’ championship to see what all the commotion is about. “Just to Youngjae and Jackson,” Maggie defends, gesturing to the pair having a drunken meltdown together. You hum in agreement.

“Yugyeom and Jaebeom are playing Jinyoung and Bambam. It’s pretty intense,” Mark explains, blatantly sarcastic when you glance curiously to the other table. “They’re all so drunk, they’re literally just throwing bells at each other.” He holds up one such bell that must have strayed away from the game. You laugh, hugging your jacket closer and watching Yugyeom begin to twerk when he finally makes a shot.

“My God,” Maggie snickers, shielding her eyes and turning away from the scene to comfort the still depressed Jackson.

“So,” Mark starts, “you and Jaebeom, huh?”

You groan. “Me and Jaebeom, what?”

“I mean, those gifts he gave you were pretty cute. What’s it gonna take for you to ask him to go to the museum with you, hm?” He purrs with a rise of his dark brows. Shit, he does have a point. Why else would Jaebeom give you two passes? To bring one of your other, definitely less artsy friends to go with you?”

Mark simpers at your speechless self, knowing he’s trumped you.

Sucking in a deep breath, you hold the cold air in long enough to gather your scrambling thoughts before releasing a heavy exhale with absolutely no change to how you feel. “I’ll try,” you grumble, “why can’t he make the first move?”

Mark lets out a dry laugh. “___, are you serious?”

“Huh? What—”

“He’s been making the first move for months,” he interrupts, shaking his head at your textbook definition denseness, “you’ve just been curving him the entire time. I know you’ve been busy with law school stuff the past few months, but come on, now. You have to grab him before someone else does.”

If it weren’t for the chill of the air keeping your cheeks and the tip of your nose cold and ruddy, you know the color would have drained from your face. Embarrassed and in desperate need for some space, you quickly turn away to look in the direction of the house, where Coco scratches at the backdoor.

“I, um, I’ll be right back,” you say, voice small. Heart hammering in your chest as you jog up the steps and across the small deck, it isn’t until you have slid open the door to let Coco out and closed it behind you do you let out a shaky sigh. “Jesus Christ,” you hiss, shaking off your jacket and slinging it over a chair before moving to cower in the corner. Reaching for what little tortilla chips are left, you anxiously take the lid off your chicken dip and begin shoveling mouthfuls into your mouth. Is it true? Have you really been the one dodging Jaebeom all this time? Sure, everyone always says it, especially Jinyoung, but it has seemed like Jaebeom has been curving you, too.

Maybe he has just been giving up.

This makes your head hurt, you think, bending down to rest your forehead against the counter. The fucking gifts, man. Mark is right—the bracelet, the rose lamp, the museum tickets. How did he remember that small detail you mentioned… when did you even mention it? You can’t remember, yet he did! Jesus, all this time you’ve wasted being an absolute clown over this. You’ll have to do something about it. Tonight, you decide, looking to the clock above the stove. 11:12 PM. Forty-eight minutes until New Year’s. You’ll kiss him, and that’s when you will—

“Ahem.” Behind you, someone clears their throat and it quite literally feels as if you have jumped out of your skin. “Jesus Christ!” You jump, spinning around with a heart thumping in your chest. Your heartbeat only mildly slows once you realize it’s only Jaebeom. OnlyJaebeom, yeah. “I didn’t even hear you come in.”

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you,” he says, chuckling awkwardly. “Did I interrupt something?”

You wince, beyond humiliated he caught you mid-pep talk slash breakdown. “No, no. You’re fine, I was just, um…”

“Catching a breath?” He finishes when you trail off. Maybe he’s not so drunk, after all.

“Yeah,” you whisper, looking to your feet.

After a long moment of silence, Jaebeom clears his throat. “Listen, ___, I… I’ve been meaning to talk to you, and—”

“Wait!” You interrupt before your brain has even caught up. His eyes widen in surprise at your sudden excitement. “I need to tell you something, first.”

“Ohhh ‘kay,” he laughs nervously, stepping closer to lean against the counter beside you and his proximity suddenly makes it very hard to breathe, let alone figure out what you want to say.

“I don’t know where to start. Okay, um, first, I guess. The gifts you gave me? Amazing. Probably one of the best I’ve ever gotten. So thank you, really,” you start, rushed and out of breath. Jaebeom hums, lips tilting into an amused smirk. You don’t miss how he leans just barely closer. “Second. Mark was just talking to me, and he said something that just… fucked me up. Apparently, I’m good at school but not at catching when someone actually, truly likes me.”

At this, Jaebeom’s curiosity has peaked and his heartbeat starts to mirror your own. “I don’t know how this happened. I know we kissed over the summer, and you have been my friend for years but all of a sudden, I realized that I like you. You’re like, one of my favorite people in the world. But then things got crazy busy and I told myself I needed to concentrate, but for fuck’s sake, I’m still head over heels for you after all this time. And Mark said that if I don’t stop curving you, soon you are going to find someone else and, Jesus, I don’t think I can live with myself if I let you slip by.”

Somewhere in the middle of your ramble, Jaebeom has pressed himself to you and curled a finger through a belt loop in your jeans to keep you there against him. Even up close, he is so unbearably handsome, nose still beet red from the cold, lips cracked and face left unshaven. “So,” he whispers, raising his free hand to cup your face, “are you ready to finally stop running from me?” You offer a tiny nod, nuzzling into his hand before, “Can I ask you something?”

“Anything.”

“Can you kiss me?” Jaebeom doesn’t waste any time bothering to answer, tipping your chin up to meet his lips. Jaebeom’s kiss is soft, just a drawn-out peck but it’s enough to drop kick your sanity right out the door. “Tastes like buffalo chicken,” he whispers with a smile, just barely pulling back. Just as soon as he has stopped, you are fisting your hands into his jacket and tugging him back, greedily opening his mouth with yours and whimpering against him once he has caught the hint and slackened his jaw to deepen the kiss. Maybe it’s the alcohol, but kissing Jaebeom leaves you breathless, limbs weak kind of drunk on his taste and leaving you desperate for more.

“Jaebeom,” you sigh dreamily, arching into him when he drags a hand down your spine. “Fuck,” he whispers, pushing you further against the cabinets and mindlessly gyrating his hips with yours. Hands brushing past your ass to grip the back of your thighs, he orders, “Jump.” You do as he says, allowing him to help you onto the counter and you distantly pray someone doesn’t walk in on you, especially Youngjae. He’ll murder you if you knock something down.

“Can’t believe you’ve kept me waiting all this time when you kiss like that,” Jaebeom mutters, kissing along the length of your neck and groaning against your skin when your hands brush along the waistband of his pants. “Never met someone who wears an ugly sweater and still manages to be the hottest one in the room.”

Your breath hitches when his hand slips beneath your sweater, fingers brushing just over your bra and leaving fire in their wake. “Impossible,” you huff, wrapping your legs around him to pull him impossibly closer, his involuntary thrusts brushing deliciously against you, “when I say the same thing about you.” Jaebeom chuckles, returning to your mouth and cradling your jaw to meet him. You could do this forever, you think, nails digging into his arms when his hand cards through your hair and he kisses like it’s the last thing he’ll ever do.

“God, I can’t do this when I’m not sober,” he sighs, leaning his forehead against yours and you can’t help but smile at the soft gesture. “Me too,” you admit, reaching to play with the soft hair at the back of his neck, “we can do this whenever now, though.” Jaebeom chuckles, leaning back to admire you before placing a much softer kiss on your lips. “Does that mean you’ll go out on a date with me?”

“Well, yes, of course,” you grin, sliding off the counter and cupping his face, “I meant what I said. I can’t bear the thought of not giving us a chance.”

“It’s about damn time,” Jaebeom teases, earning a light punch to his arm. “Hey! I’ve been stressed out of my mind. I was blind when it came to seeing you flirt with me.”

“I’m kidding, ___,” he chuckles, “I’m glad it took us until now. It’s a good way to start off the year, knowing I’ll meet my New Year’s Resolution and be able to bone you sooner than later.”

Your eyes widen at his words, warmth instantly blooming its way up your neck when you glance to the growing tent in his slacks and he lets out a triumphant laugh. In the midst of your embarrassed flush, the back-door slides open and none other than Jinyoung starts shouting, “Where the fuck have y’all been? Oh— shit! What happened?”

Then, not a heartbeat later, “Kiss! KIIIISSSSSSS!”

“KISS!” Maggie screams, bouncing behind Jinyoung and it isn’t until you look up do you understand. Of fucking course— the stupid mistletoe.

“Shall we, m’lady?” Jaebeom asks, voice laced with amusement. You quirk a brow at him, grabbing him by the collar and yanking him closer.

“We shall.”

·

·

·

Not even three hours into the new decade, Jaebeom has already met his New Year’s Resolution.

[touchingoldmagic]

Day 2 - Favorite Ghostbuster

Day 2 of the 30 Day Ghostbusters Challenge!

The bell above the door to the bookstore tinkled and Kylie Griffin, sitting behind the counter, barely glanced up from a book that took up almost the entire counter space. "Welcome to Ray's Occult Books. You looking for anything specific?" she asked, after her brief glance identified the customer as female, probably in her late 20's, and harmless looking.

The young woman standing in the doorway had a slightly guilty expression, as if caught going somewhere she wasn't supposed to, but she covered it with an awkward chuckle. "Is that the New York version of 'Can I help you?'" She had a slight accent Kylie couldn't immediately place.

Kylie lifted her head from the tome and gave the customer a closer look, deciding by her tone and eyes that the woman had been trying to be friendly rather than snide. "Pretty much," Kylie replied, shrugging. "Let me know if you have any questions." Then she lowered her head again, focused on her research.

The woman wore a simple dark blue skirt and white blouse, her straight brown hair swinging loose about her shoulders. She drifted about the shop silently, scanning the books on the shelves and the clusters of other occult items Ray kept on display. Kylie kept half an ear out for the sound of anything being lifted from its position on the shelves (unfortunately small shops had to be wary of shoplifters, especially if customers thought there was only one person on duty and that person wasn't paying much attention). But otherwise she let the lady browse.

After a while, a soft cough and then a louder clearing of the throat caused Kylie to lift her head again.

"E-excuse me?" The young woman was staring at a leather-bound book held in her hands. From this angle, Kylie couldn't read the cover but she caught a flash of what looked like gold embossing on the front. The gold seemed to have caught the eye of the brunette as well. "This shouldn't be here," she murmured, almost too low for Kylie to hear. Then her soft voice climbed, turned frantic. "This shouldn't be here. This shouldn't be here!"

Kylie's eyebrows rose to her hairline. "Hey, boss?" she called toward the back room. "You better get out here."

Ray Stantz appeared in the doorway that led to the back, which he used as an office. "What's up?"

Kylie pointed with her pencil eraser in the direction of the young woman. She was now clutching the book with her arms crossed over it, holding it to her chest. Her face had gone expressionless, light brown eyes staring straight ahead at nothing. She was swaying slightly.

"Oh, hey there," Ray said, his voice automatically dropping to the tone of someone speaking to a stray animal. It got easy to spot the signs of someone no longer quite in control of themselves after you'd seen it a few times. Unhurriedly he crossed the floor of the small shop, stopping short of arms length. "Whatcha got there? Can I see it?"

Slowly the woman focused on Ray, blinked once with effort, then held out the book. He gingerly took it from her hands, frowning as he peered at the cover. "That's weird, I thought this was in the back. I didn't put it out here. Especially not here, in the mass market section. This is one of a kind. Kylie, did you?" He held up the book so his store manager could see. The cover had a circular symbol in gold and some text that was in a language she didn’t recognize.

Kylie shook her head. "Haven't seen it before, boss," she said, with a bit of a frown herself. Almost every inch of wall space in the small shop was taken up with book shelves, and most of those shelves ran floor to ceiling. Even so, there weren't many books that Kylie hadn't gotten around to seeing, and she never forgot one when she saw it.

"It wanted to get away," the young woman murmured suddenly, voice subdued and slow, seemingly still in some sort of trance. "It doesn't like you. You won't let it do what it wants."

Ray raised an eyebrow. "Oh? And what's that?" he prompted.

"To kill," she said, exhaling the word out on a tired sigh.

Ray and Kylie shared a measured look. "...Maybe I'll just keep this in the safe," Ray said carefully.

"Probably a good idea," his manager agreed.

He disappeared to the back room again, leaving Kylie to keep an eye on the customer. When he emerged, the young brunette was starting to come around. She stared at the book shelves with a confused expression on her face, blinking rapidly. "Um, excuse me. W-what just happened?" she asked, seemingly to either of them.

"Oh, nothing to worry about!" Ray said. "I don't have any equipment here at the moment to cross-check, but it seems to me that you've just experienced a short-term possession from an interdimensional being passing along a message to protect the mortal inhabitants of this dimensional plane. Or possibly a past life experience with the occult intruding on your current life cycle," he explained cheerfully. He reached behind the counter and withdrew a business card and held it out to her. "Most likely nothing to worry about, but if anything happens again, just give us a call."

The young woman looked at Ray in somewhat of a daze, then transferred her questioning gaze to Kylie, who just pressed her lips together and arched an eyebrow, managing to look both unimpressed and sympathetic at once.

"Um, all right, thank you," the young woman said, taking the card and slipping it into her purse. She looked about to say something more but then shook her head slightly and retreated to the front door.

Ray turned to Kylie after the door closed behind the woman. "She seemed nice," he said.

[karenninaaa]

you chase the darkness away (and you put a light in my chest)

Summary: Peter was on the verge of losing his mind over his secret superhero identity reveal. Morgan brought him a book.

Iron Dad Bingo: Cuddles

Read on Ao3

or just continue reading down below

Buy me a coffee?

Mr. Stark had said that he should get some sleep. But Peter had figured out a little bit later as he lay on the bed in the Stark cabin that his body was too keyed up to fall asleep. His hands had twitched every time he would try to lie still. He had tossed and turned around trying to find a comfortable position to sleep in. Soon, Peter gave up on the concept of sleep and how it was not something he would probably be able to do that night. He bolted up from his bed as he exhaled frustratingly. He peeled off the duvet covering his lower body. He sighed again. He hunched forward, bowing his head. He carded his hair with his hand. His breath got ragged every passing second.

Everyone knew I am Spider-Man. . . Shit. Shit. Shit. What am I going to do?

He shut his eyes tightly willing the thoughts to go away. It wasn't helping with the anxiety and paranoia bubbling up in the center of his chest. Mr. Stark had said that they would fix it and there was nothing to worry about. But it wasn't right. His mind protested. It was his problem that he should be fixing himself instead of dragging Mr. Stark into it. He had retired for gosh sake. He should be living peacefully here in his cabin with his family and not give him something to worry about. Saving the universe had been enough to fill up a lifetime quota of being in the superhero business.

Peter's heart became erratic as his breath became even more shallow. His head turned at the window. A stream of moonlight seeped through it giving the darkened room a luminescent glow. For one second, as Peter's shoulders rose and fell from his uneven breathing, he thought of running away, away from everyone he cared about. To put them away from harm's way and every negative effect of people knowing that he was Spider-Man. His aunt would be safer here than being with him.

And then the door suddenly creaked open. Peter almost jumped up to the ceiling. He stared wide-eyed at the door moving then a small head popped in.

Peter blinked, relaxing a bit at the sight of Morgan on the door.

"Oh good, you're still awake." Morgan's voice was in a hushed whisper as if afraid of waking up everybody in the house if her voice raised any higher. She stepped inside and closed the door softly. She sauntered towards him hugging a picture book and holding a flashlight.

Peter stilled in his position as Morgan put down her things on the bed and climbed up on the bed with a little difficulty. That's when he moved and helped her up on the bed.

"Why are you still up?" Peter asked.

"Sshhh." Morgan put her tiny index finger on her lips. She sat comfortably on the bed with her legs folded underneath her. "Lower your voice, Mom and Dad might hear us, especially dad. I have my suspicion that Dad has super hearing and he's just hiding it from us."

"Oh?" Peter's eyebrow rose.

Morgan nodded conspiringly. She spoke in the same low tone and leaned forward to Peter. "Dad knows when I'm still not yet asleep at night and reading my book." She patted her book on the bed. "I was probably reading it too loudly and he heard me."

"Then he'll probably come here soon." Peter guessed.

"Nuh-uhh." She shook her head and whispered. "Not if we talk like this and hide under the blanket with a flashlight on." She held her flashlight under her chin and turned it on, giving her face a yellowish glow. "I think we're safe enough." She waved the flashlight while making funny faces.

Peter giggled at that.

"Sshh." Morgan shushed him. "I can't sleep either and I want someone to read to me, but Mom and Dad are already asleep. I don't want to bother them."

"I can read it for you if you like." He offered.

That's how they found themselves underneath the covers with a flashlight and an open book on the bed. They lay on their stomachs as he held the flashlight over the book and read in a low voice as Morgan had told him to. The book was about a doctor who can speak to animals.

"That's interesting," Peter whispered, flipping the next page.

"I know!" Morgan whispered back excitedly. She beamed at him as her light brown eyes gleamed from the little light coming from the flashlight. Then she paused. "Since you're Spider-man, can't you talk to spiders?"

"No, I can't." Peter sighed tiredly. It was a question bound to be asked when people had learned that he was Spider-Man.

"Aww." Morgan momentarily looked dejected that Peter felt bad about it. But then, she asked him to resume reading so he did.

They reached the part where the protagonist was about to go on a voyage to cure and save the dying animals.

"Should I go on a voyage too?" Peter muttered absentmindedly and flipped again the next page

"Where are you going?" Morgan interrupted his reading. Her brows pulled together.

"Somewhere far away."

"You can't leave!" Morgan gasped. Horrified at the idea of Peter leaving.

Peter opened his mouth to calm her down when another voice interrupted him.

"Why are you still awake?"

Peter and Morgan froze as they stared at each other. They knew that voice very well. After a beat, they emerged from underneath the blankets and sat up.

Tony was standing by the bed with his hand on his hip. Peter and Morgan smiled sheepishly at him.

Tony looked expectantly at them. His eyebrow raised.

"I told you dad has super-hearing. He can even hear us in his sleep." Morgan muttered as she leaned sideways to Peter.

Peter wanted to say that it was probably because of some traitorous artificial intelligence who had ratted them out and not because of some enhanced senses. But who was he to shatter the kid's fantasy of his dad looking cooler in her eyes? So he kept his mouth shut.

"So no one's gonna tell me why you're still up at midnight?"

"I can't sleep," Morgan answered honestly. "And Peter's going away." She pointed at Peter.

Peter's mouth hung open at Morgan. "What happened to the siblings’ pact we've done to keep things between us?"

Morgan huffed. "This is an exception, I don't want you to go away!"

"Hold on, hold on." Tony signaled for a time out. "Peter's what?"

"He's leaving us!" Morgan said. "Daddy, quick! Do the thing when someone tries to run out of the house."

"W-Wha-" Peter looked back and forth between Morgan and Tony. "W-what thing?"

He had gotten his answer when in a flash Tony moved. He jumped onto the bed and managed to wiggle his way behind Peter and sat with his legs on Peter’s both sides. Peter found himself being wrapped around Tony’s arms. His bionic arm glinted in the moonlight.

Peter tried to squirm and wiggle his arms out of Tony's hug. "Mr. Stark!"

"No. No one leaves the house." Tony said. He was smiling. Peter could tell without even looking up at him.

"Yeah!" Morgan squealed and tackled Peter in a hug. "You can't go. You can't leave me!" Morgan looked up at him with puppy dog eyes. Her arms wrapped around his torso. She was sprawled on the bed on her stomach.

"How can I possibly leave like this?" Peter gave up on squirming his way out.

Tony stilled behind him. "You were not serious about that, were you?"

"Uhhh,"

"Peter. How can you think of that? Where are you going?" Tony asked. His arms around him loosened.

"I don't want you to worry about me about this whole revelation of my identity thing," Peter mumbled, staring down at Morgan's crown. Her cheek pressed on his stomach.

"Of course, we'd worry about you! You're a family!"

"But you are retired and you shouldn't be dealing with superhero business anymore!"

"Yes, I am retired," Tony answered patiently. "But it doesn't mean I would stop caring about you."

"But it's still felt like I am bothering you or something."

"Kid, I've sacrificed my one arm off and risked my life just to get you back and you're calling yourself a bother?"

That's when Peter started to smile and relaxed in his mentor's embrace. Peter leaned back against his chest.

"So, stop thinking of running away or something, you're gonna give me and your aunt a heart attack."

Peter hummed.

"Answer me, Pete."

Peter could feel Tony's eyes on him.

"Yes. I am not going anywhere." Peter answered. In his heart, he knew that he was telling him the truth. He continued. "I just thought that it was a problem I have to solve on my own."

"But it doesn't mean that you have to do this alone," Tony answered softly.

Peter could only hum. Strangely, the anxiety in his chest was replaced by a warmth spreading throughout his body. It was comforting. His head that buzzed with a lot of uncertainties started to clear off.

"Y-yeah okay, you can let me go now," Peter said.

"Not a chance," Tony said, tightening his embrace around his chest. He glanced over Peter's shoulder. "Besides, I think little miss is already asleep, you don't want to wake her up or else she'll hulk out like her dear old' uncle Bruce."

True enough, Morgan's grip around him had slackened. She wasn't chiming in their conversation anymore.

"So how did you learn this trick?" Peter tried to gesture with the whole despite his arms being locked in Tony's embrace.

Tony laughed softly. "Morgan was always running away when I tried to feed her. My only way so she wouldn't get past the dining table."

Peter chuckled.

"You should sleep too," Tony said after a moment.

And so Peter did. This time, he was quite certain that he would fall asleep. It was cozy. The arms around him were so reassuring that it melted his worries away.

There was a hum. Peter vaguely remembered as his eyes drooped. It was Tony's voice. He recognized. He was humming a tune. He tried to recall the familiar tune. His eyes were finally closed when he smiled in satisfaction at finally remembering what it was.

Itsy-bitsy spider

Climbed up the water spout

Down came the rain

And washed the spider out

Out came the sun

And dried up all the rain

And the itsy-bitsy spider

Climbed up the spout again

[vcepsis]

I+9 with Klance, pleeeasse?

Thanks so much for the request! Sorry it took so long!

Taken from this ask meme (fever + camping). Since I’ve done one similar to this, I hope you forgive me for doing something a little different this time. Shout out as always to @feverflushed​ for the lovely beta work

—–

Lance groaned softly, his face buried in his pillow as he tried in vain to pull the blanket around himself tighter. He was absolutely freezing, even though he knew it was the fever talking. Another shiver ran through him, making his bones almost ache. He was tired and cold and completely miserable.

But most of all, he was lonely. God, he was so lonely. Growing up with all his siblings and cousins living practically on top of each other had its downsides, for sure, like never fully understanding the definition of privacy. But after living with them for so long, it just meant he was never alone.

For someone like Lance, being surrounded by people he loved was the best thing he could have asked for. And when he would get sick, his baby cousins would pile his bed with their favourite stuffed animals and blankets. His mom would make him soup that would clear his head and warm him up from his inside. His father would move their portable heater from the living room into his bedroom. It never failed to lift his spirits, no matter what awful plague he’d contract.

Now, living who knows how many lightyears away from them, Lance had never felt so alone.

He’d come down with this whatever-it-was alien virus a few days before, and at first, he was scared. Scratch that: he’d been terrified. It was the first time any of them had fallen ill since their impromptu recruitment into a ten thousand year space war, and Lance had been sure he’d picked up some deadly alien sickness that would kill him. But as the days passed, it mostly resembled an Earth-like flu.

Lance sniffled pathetically, burrowing as deep as he could get into the soft Altean blankets on his bed. Shiro and Coran had swiftly sequestered him in his room once they confirmed he wasn’t in any real danger, and since the pods weren’t designed to deal with illness, he was left to tough it out the old fashioned way. And while the others were around to get him whatever he needed, they mostly left him alone to wallow in his misery.

Maybe he was supposed to be more appreciative. Coran had thrown around words like quarantine and isolation until Shiro had convinced him that having Lance in his room would be equally effective. But still, Lance couldn’t help the immense wave of sadness being alone caused. Especially being alone and sick. He’d do anything for his brother’s stuffed alpaca, or the smell of his mother’s cooking. He missed them all so much…

Just as the tears started building, there was a soft, tentative knock on his door.

The noise jolted Lance out of his downward spiral, and he turned on his side to wait for whoever it was to come in. There was a beat of silence before they knocked again, a little louder this time.

“Yeah?” Lance called, clearing his throat when the sound came out rough and scratchy.

“Um…” The voice on the other side was hesitant. “It’s Keith.”

Keith?

Lance’s eyes widened in surprise. What the hell did Keith want?

Slowly, Lance sat up, swinging his legs over the side of the bed. He pulled the blanket with him as he stood, wrapping it securely around his shoulders and stumbling his way to the door. It opened with a swoosh.

Keith was standing on the other side, dressed in his usual attire, but without the jacket. He frowned as he looked Lance over. “Hey, uh…are you ok?”

Lance blinked, and belatedly realized there were still tears stuck to his eyelashes. He wiped them away quickly, flushing from embarrassment. This was just great. It was bad enough that Keith saw him looking like a mess, but he had to see him cry too…?

But Keith didn’t comment on it any further. “How are you feeling?” he asked instead. “You’ve been pretty quiet.”

Rolling his eyes, Lance scoffed, only to turn away and muffle the subsequent coughing fit into the blanket still around his shoulders. His chest burned in the aftermath.

“Ah, sorry,” Keith said quickly. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

Lance looked back over to see Keith fidgeting with the end of his shirt. It was a small thing, but it was something so distinctly un-Keith that Lance couldn’t help but notice.

Was he…..nervous?

He sighed, looking back up at Lance. “Look, I….I know you’re probably feeling like shit, and tired, but I wanted to do….something.”

Lance raised an eyebrow. “Something?” he repeated hoarsely, his voice cracking halfway through the single word.

“Yeah….something.” Keith sighed, frustrated. “Look, I don’t want it to be weird or anything, but I don’t know how to describe it without showing you.”

“I hate to break it to you, buddy,” Lance rasped, “but it’s already weird.”

Keith shoved his hands into his pocket. “I know, I know,” he sighed again, defeated. “Are you up for coming with me to the rec room? It’ll be easier to show you.”

Lance frowned. What the hell was Keith up to? Lance’s first instinct was suspicion, but he was so desperate for some kind of contact, so he nodded. Keith slumped in relief.

“I’m keeping the blanket, though,” Lance said as he stepped out of his room, the door closing automatically behind him. Keith shrugged in acceptance.

It was quiet in the castle as they made their way to the rec room. “Where is everyone?” Lance asked, absently rubbing his aching throat.

“We stopped outside a planet yesterday. Distress call, pretty standard.” Keith had slowed his pace to match Lance’s, who was wobbling slightly as he walked. Staying upright was harder than he expected. “Apparently they’re just wrapping things up now. Getting supplies and medicine.”

“Medicine?” Lance repeated dumbly.

Keith frowned. “Well….yeah? You’re sick. They’re hoping the people on the planet can help, since we helped them.”

Lance couldn’t help the way his breath hitched at Keith’s words, stopping suddenly. The others wanted to help. He might be a burden on the team, but they wanted to help. The tears from earlier suddenly returned, the fever making his emotions run wild, and he had to blink quickly to keep them at bay.

“Hey….” Keith had stopped when Lance did, and he put a gentle hand on his arm. “Lance? What’s wrong? Do you need to sit down or something?”

“I….” The hand on his arm was so warm, and Lance felt the ice inside him thaw a bit. “I thought….I mean, everyone left me alone….and Coran wanted to quarantine me…I thought…”

“What?” Keith’s tone was genuinely confused. “We left you alone because we didn’t want to bother you. Shiro had to keep telling Hunk and Pidge to let you sleep.” 

“Oh….” Lance pulled the blanket around himself tighter, shivering from emotion and the freezing ice that was still in his veins. 

Keith sighed, but it didn’t sound annoyed. “Let’s just…keep going, alright? We’re almost there, and then you can rest again.”

Lance nodded silently, trailing after Keith, trying to make sense of what he was feeling.

Before he knew it, though, they had made their way to the rec room.

Or at least, what Lance thought was the rec room.

The room had been transformed into a giant, ridiculously elaborate blanket fort.

Lance gasped as he took it all in, and the memory of building blanket forts with his siblings flashed through his mind. They would steal all the pillows and blankets from all around the house to make a giant enclosure that would get more and more complicated every time they built it. Then they would all sit with the lights off, using flashlights to play cards or board games and telling dumb, scary stories.

And now he was staring at a blanket fort easily three times the size of anything they’d ever managed to make, yet it still had a cozy, inviting feel to it. The number of pillows and blankets here must have been easily five times the amount they’d ever used back home. The blankets were strung up along the walls and just below the ceiling, with more pillows than Lance could count lining the floors. The blankets in the center drooped slightly, and that slight imperfection made it feel like home.

Keith cleared his throat softly next to him. Lance turned to him, still in shock.

“Coran helped me build it,” he said slowly, trying to gauge Lance’s reaction. “Pidge and Hunk mentioned doing this with their families…..and I know you have a big family at home, so….”

There was a distinctly red flush across Keith’s cheeks, and he refused to meet Lance’s eyes. “Did you…did you do this for me?” Lance asked softly.

The flush deepened, and Keith crossed his arms tightly. “Um….I mean…I know you’re probably not feeling very good, so if you don’t like it or you wanna go back to your room, just tell me, it’s fine.”

The tears made another return, except this time one or two escaped and trailed down Lance’s cheeks. 

Finally looking up, Keith’s eyes widened when he saw the tears. Lance shook his head quickly, smiling softly. 

“Keith….” How could he even begin to describe how he felt? How the loneliness had been eating him from the inside, how he desperately yearned for something from home? And somehow, Keith had known. 

So he settled for smiling at Keith, emotions still running wild. “Thank you.”

The flush was back, and Keith ducked his head. “Y-yeah….don’t worry about it.”

Lance grinned. The obvious embarrassment on Keith’s face was almost cute.

Shuffling over to the fort, he eased himself down onto one of the many mounds of pillows strewn inside it, groaning in relief as he rested his aching joints. Seeming to shake himself out of his trance, Keith joined him, sitting stiff and cross-legged on his own mountain of pillows.

“The others will be here when they’re done,” Keith said, pulling out even more blankets that were buried somewhere in the sea of pillows, making sure they were within reach. “Hopefully they’ll have something for your fever, too.”

“Does Allura know about this?” Lance asked.

“Uh,” Keith said hesitantly, “she will when she gets back.”

Lance barked a laugh, happiness surging through him even though it made him cough. “You gonna convince Shiro to get in on the fun too?”

Keith grinned. “Absolutely. Hunk will make us soup. Pidge will probably have some games we can play. It’ll be great.”

“Like a sleepover,” Lance remarked, nestling into the pillows.

Keith shrugged. “I guess?”

“Have you never had a sleepover before?” Lance asked, incredulous.

Shaking his head, Keith looked away. “Never really had the chance.”

“Well then,” Lance said, tossing one of the blankets toward Keith. “That’s something we’ll have to fix, huh?”

Keith took the blanket and wrapped it around himself. He looked up, giving Lance a soft smile. Lance returned it without thinking.

[dandelion-san]

Love Story

@kyogre-blue​ I tried man, I really did

 --

“Marry me.”

Tsuna blinked blearily at Mukuro before chancing a glance at the bright numbers on the electronic clock by his bed. He squinted, but he squinted so hard that he ended up just closing his eyes and was just about to drift off to sleep again when his bed jostled.

Mukuro’s face was terrifyingly close to his, his expression manic and smile too wide.

“Well?” he said impatiently. “Will you join me in holy matrimony? Sawada Tsunayoshi?”

“…It’s three in the morning,” Tsuna weakly said. He thought longingly of his interrupted sleep, precious time already whittled away by the amount of paperwork and meetings that filled his days (and nights). His sleep-addled brain was flashing ‘ERROR’ behind his eyelids.

What was Mukuro up to this time? Why was he in his room? Where had Mukuro disappeared to the past week? …Ah, who was he kidding, Mukuro does what Mukuro wants. As… long as nobody died, right.

Oh, whatever. Tsuna’s eyes slipped shut again. “You haven’t even taken me on a date yet,” he mumbled, a light snore escaping from him.

“Hm,” he heard Mukuro say thoughtfully, but Tsuna had already decided to forget about this entire encounter, and fell back into peaceful oblivion.

 --

This later proved to be a mistake.

 --

 SCENARIO 1

The force of Mukuro kabedon’ing him against the wall was enough to break the plaster. Tsuna gulped, discreetly looking for an exit.

“I-is there something you need?” he asked, shuddering at the creepy gleam in Mukuro’s one eye. (Damnit, where was Gokudera when he needed him the most?!)

Mukuro leaned in close, lips brushing against his ear. “Tell me, Sawada,” he breathed. “Did I seduce you?”

“Um,” Tsuna said. “Is that a rhetorical question? Are you practicing for something?” He laughed nervously.

Mukuro pulled away, frowning. “Hm,” he said in a tone that sounded awfully familiar for some reason. Tsuna gulped again, trying his best not to look at the large dent next to his head.

“Are you…” Tsuna’s voice broke and he coughed. “Are you trying to seduce me? I mean, should I be seduced?” His right hand slipped into his pocket where he kept his pepper spray.

(Flames or no flames, pepper spray was incredibly handy for weirdos like Mukuro.)

Tsuna was not moved by Mukuro’s petulant expression no matter how cute it was and sprayed him, before darting down the hall and into his office. The echoes of Mukuro’s pained howls dogged his steps.

 SCENARIO 2

This time, Mukuro had several roses clenched between his teeth, but whatever strange Romeo-esque thing he was going for was ruined by his swollen red eyes and in how the roses were unnaturally black.

Both of Mukuro’s arms were caging him against the wall and so Tsuna eyed the ceiling and sighed miserably.

The victorious expression on Mukuro didn’t hold up when he tried to say something and realized he couldn’t speak because of the flowers occupying his mouth. He stood there frozen, indecisive on what to do next and Tsuna took pity.

“Mukuro,” he said slowly. “Is someone bullying you? Did you get roped into a bet with Hibari again?”

“Mmphaekkk,” Mukuro replied, offended. “Fihaaa? Mearrrrph!”

“Uh-huh,” Tsuna said, not understanding a single word. “Okay.”

He paused to make sure Mukuro didn’t choke on the flowers when he kicked him in the balls. Then he ran to his office and put up every possible barrier he could think of. It failed when Mukuro walked in three hours later with a box of chocolates.

Tsuna grudgingly took the bribe before letting Yamamoto cheerfully defenestrate the guy.

“Are you sure it’s not a bet?” he asked him as the maids swept up the broken shards of glass.

Yamamoto shook his head. “Nah, something like that would definitely have been in the grapevine.”

Maybe this was revenge for something. Had he done anything to make Mukuro mad recently? He frowned to himself, recalling anything from the past few days and drawing a blank.

Hm.

 SCENARIO 10

Mukuro was sitting in his chair. There was a gift box in his hand, decent-sized and with a bright red ribbon ominously wrapped around it. (Seriously, how did he keep getting past his security?)

Tsuna took a deep breath as he walked into his office. Reborn told him he couldn’t run away from his problems anymore, right? Time to stop running. He eyed the box warily before trailing his gaze up to the lazy smirk on Mukuro’s face.

“What is that?” he finally asked.

“A present for you, my love,” Mukuro said with a disturbingly bright tone. Tsuna blinked. On second thought, the box seemed to be dripping red. It was staining Mukuro’s trousers. And the carpet. The maids were going to kill him.

“I see,” he said faintly. “And it wouldn’t be the heart of Don Rossi, would it?” He laughed then, trying to play it off as a joke, because wow how evilly cliché would that be, but it choked when Mukuro’s smirk turned fond.

“He won’t be causing anymore troubles for you, my dear.”

Hiieeeee, Tsuna’s mind screeched.

(“It was a joke!” Mukuro insisted in vain. “A metaphor!”)

 SCENARIO 45

“The moon is beautiful tonight, isn’t it?” Mukuro gaze was soulful, face inching closer and closer - 

“No it isn’t!” Tsuna shouted, backing away. “It’s a new moon tonight!”

Too bad, Mukuro had set up such a nice dinner and everything.

SCENARIO ???

There was a lion on his bed.

Wait – no, there was a lion HERD in his BED.

“Mukuro, why?!” Tsuna scrabbled into his delighted Guardian’s arms and possessive arms wrapped around him, lifting him up high into the air.

“Are you happy?” he said. “Does this make your heart pound? I got your favorite animal just for you!”

Tsuna whimpered, covering his face. His favorite animal was a hamster, gentle and unassuming. His favorite in general was Natsu who was not a real lion, seriously what the hell Mukuro.

Fortunately, Mukuro seemed to sense that something was wrong, and he sighed, walking back out of the room with Tsuna in his arms. “I don’t get it,” he complained. “Shouldn’t you be wooed by now?”

Tsuna uncovered his face and stared at him in dawning horror.

“Wooed...?” he echoed, turning white and then red with rage. “Mukuro… did you do something.” It wasn’t even really a question but a statement.  

“Kufufu,” said his Guardian, arms tense around him. “Well that’s kind of a funny story, and I’m sure you’ll appreciate it once you marry me.”

 --

The amount of debt Mukuro had managed to accumulate within a single week was staggering and sent Tsuna straight to his hidden liquor cabinet.

Mid-life crises for the mafia were no joke, especially if one spent most of their teenage life locked up in a watery prison.

“For the love of god,” Tsuna sobbed into Mukuro’s lap, letting callused fingers run soothingly through his hair. “You’re not even twenty-five yet. Is this why you didn’t contact us for the entire week? What were you thinking?! Just because you’re family doesn’t mean you get to hoist your debt off on us, you bastard!”

“They were quite insistent about it,” Mukuro said flippantly above him. At Tsuna’s hysterical rise in tone, he assured, “I didn’t kill any of them, honestly. I stuck a few in my hell illusions, but nothing some years in therapy can’t fix.”

Predictably, this did not assure Tsuna a single bit.

 --

The next morning, every employee and the rest of Tsuna’s Guardians received the shock of their lives when Mukuro went down on one knee during breakfast and presented a hung-over Tsuna with a gorgeous golden diamond ring.

“It’s completely conflict-free,” Mukuro said in the silence of the room. “Also, I did all your paperwork last night.”

“You motherfUCK-“ Gokudera started.

“Yeah sure, why not,” Tsuna interrupted.

“-Tenth?!”

“Really!” Mukuro lit up, a genuine smile tugging at his lips.

“Uh-huh.” Tsuna took a long gulp of his coffee. “Yes, I’ll marry you.” He surveyed the rest of the room as Mukuro put the ring on his finger and inwardly snorted. Hibari’s tea was dripping onto his suit.

(He was not so amused later when he discovered Mukuro had put himself further into debt by buying the engagement ring.)

 --

(EPILOGUE (aka Bridezilla!Mukuro)

Mukuro let Nana help pick the dress, because why not. Best not to make the mother-in-law angry right? It didn’t stop him from arguing with her on the merits of mermaid versus A-line versus trumpet styles though. And the kinds of cuts to go with it too!  

Chrome is his best woman of course, but drama ensued the monthweekday before the actual date when Mukuro threw a fit over her buying the wrong kind of card stock and in an off-set blue that clashed with his hair, or her choosing an outfit that outshone his. “It has to be perfect!” he howled. “It’s my big day! All of these mafia scum are going to be there and the Vindice!” 

It took both Ken and Chikusa to hold her down before she could eviscerate him, but then Hibari tried to take over the job for her. 

The wedding itself went smoothly to Tsuna’s great relief. At least Mukuro had fun with it.)

The end.

[melyaliz]

It’s Britney Bitch

Summary: The Story of how Jennifer and Dick went to see Britney in Vegas. 

Pairing: Dick x OC 

Notes: So many ideas for this... it’s a bit choppy but was WAY too much fun to write. Dick’s love for Britney is inspired by my best friend who will fight you if you look at Britney wrong. 

Maia @royslittleharper

Annabella @the-shadow-of-atlantis

Tagging: @guns-n-lilies @coffee-randomness @daisyboobear @werewitchling @nightwing-rules

Sometimes being a hero was just too much. While Dick was normally good at compartmentalizing his lives some days it was just too much. One small slip up, one civilian lost and it would all come crashing down on the boy.

 Today was one of those days.

 Dick lay on his bed just staring at the ceiling letting the events of the past week play out in his head. Over and over again. Lost in a circle of “what ifs”

 The sound of music a the knock on his door suddenly broke the cycle.

 “Go away” he yelled

 He was answered by another knock. Sighing he pulled himself up walking toward the door.

 “I’m not in the moo..” his words were cut off by Jen throwing a fuzzy pink boa around his neck pulling him into the hallway. His sister Annabella holding up a jukebox blasting Britney Spears.

 “Come Dance!” Jen sang twirling around pulling him toward the stairs. He couldn’t help but laugh at their ridiculousness as he let them lead him down to the living room where the speakers blasted his favorite's from the pop star.

 A few hours later Bruce found them sprawled out on the couch. Annabella’s head resting in Jennifer’s lap asleep while Dick and Jen watched Britney's music video “Baby One More Time”. Dick explaining all the work that was put into the production his hand gently playing with Jen’s as she giggled at his excitement of the performance.

 “She’s a true entertainer.”

 “Yep.”

 ----

 Jen let out a long breath as she bent down over her feet on her Yoga mat. Slowly she moved from a downward dog to a Warrior slowly breathing. Deep breaths, in and out, trying to clear her head as her phone buzzed. Dick frantically trying to explain himself and why did had not told her about Jason’s resurrection.

 But she wasn’t having it. Not today.

 Let him stew in his dishonesty.

 Jerk.

 Suddenly she heard her doorbell buzz and the sound of a beat she couldn't quite place. Frowning, confused, she stood walking toward the door, the beat getting louder. 

 Opening the door she was greeted by Dick holding up his cellphone blasting Britney, the pink fuzzy boa around his neck. He threw it around her before taking a step in.

 “Dick I’m still mad…”

 “Shhhhh,” he said shutting the door. “Just dance with me,” he added before pulling her toward the living room by the boa that was around her neck. She couldn't help but crack a smile as he sang the words to their favorite song “Circus”.

 -----

 "So Dick's birthday is in a month..." Faith said as she stretched before their practice session. Damian frowned from his place next to the punching bag.

"tt, So?"

 "I just have a great idea for a gift.”

 “You?” Damian said, “what are you going to get him? A box of ice cream?”

 “Ohhhh something so good I will become his favorite and he will ask me to be the next Robin.”

 Damian froze studying her, sometimes he had a hard time reading his cousin. While she was always saying outlandish things which he had learned to discredit, there was always those few that held some grains of truth to them. He knew she would never be Grayson’s favorite, but the thought didn’t sit well with him.

 “First off, am the heir to Batman and I could get Grayson a better gift in my sleep.”

 “Wana bet?”

 Tim sighed watching them. He knew Faith well enough to know she had an ulterior motive. Whenever she got that look in her eye she was scheming. Damian hadn’t been with them long enough or cared enough to really notice when Faith was up to no good.

 “If I win you have to be MY sidekick for a week.”

 “And if I win I get to be Robin for a week.”

 “You’re on!”

 Of course, everyone wanted to get in on the bet. Annabella joking that the idea of being Robin for a week was too tempting to pass up. Stephanie saying she already had the costume while Gigi really just wanted to be “part of the Bat-fam”

 Dick had never gotten so many gifts for his birthday.

 Stephanie found him the box of the iconic Wheaties with Nightwing’s face on them.

 Annabella had a remade Dick’s first costume “I fixed it, after all, I was the one who burned it last time” she said as he laughed looking it over.

 Tim and updated his suite with some amazing new features.

 Gigi got him a book with all the best Nightwing tweets. Several included the trending hashtags #nightbooty and #bestbatbooty. Maia may have stolen it to read a few out loud.

 Faith gave him a mini figure of Nightwing keyring. “For your belt” she giggled “he can have your back.”

 Damian couldn’t help but snicker as he proudly presented him with a katana from Japan, a one of the kind apparently. And better than anything else, especially a stupid little keychain which he didn’t fail to point out to Faith.

 “He can put little-wing on the hilt!” Faith cooed looking over the blade.

 “Don’t you dare!” Damian said glaring at the brunette who flashed him a sweet smile while Tim pried the blade from her hands concerned what the smaller boy would do to his girlfriend. The younger Wayne was about to add something else but Dick’s laughs cut him off.

 “Maia, what are these?” he asked holding up a pair of booty shorts with “Britney Bitch” written in pink rhinestones on the butt.

 “Open mine.” Jennifer said handing him an envelope, “and all will become clear.”

 Everyone fell silent as Dick opened the card quietly reading it then pulling out two tickets, his eyes growing wide. “No” he gasped holding them up.

 “Yep,” the older O’Neal sister said a huge smile on her face, “Two front row tickets to see Britney’s Vegas show opening day.”

 “OHHH!!!” Annabella squealed, “I get to do costumes!”

 “Take tons of pictures!” Gigi added, “I want to have tweets and everything!”

 “I’m so jealous” Maia cried, “I tried to get Jen to let me go instead of her!”

 “No way!” Jen laughed, “I am not missing this for the world.”

 --------

 "Hey Jen, can you just help me with this body glit..." Dick's voice cut off as all thoughts left him as Jennifer walked out.

 "That bad?" She giggled as he stood there mouth agape taking her in her "Slave for You" outfit complete with a stuffed animal boa constrictor. Slowly his expression grew to a lopsided goofy grin as he let out a low chuckle. 

 "You look amazing, Annabella knows her stuff."

 Jennifer giggled twirling around letting the beads and lace around her hips sparkle. “Right?” taking a step closer to him. Dick felt his heart pick up feeling slightly like a teenager again as he watched her, “now come here so I can bedazzle you”

 “Of course,” he said shivering slightly at her touch. They both may have already had a few drinks with dinner and a few more while getting ready. Which is what he choked up his nerves too. Just the alcohol.

 Nothing else.

 The concert hall was already packed by the time they go there. Of course, they had to take pictures and then stop to take a few more with other fans. A Bachelor party was so in love with their outfits that they ended up buying them drinks. One of the guys informing Dick that “if he wasn’t taken he would be tonight.” Jennifer was doubled over laughing so hard as Dick sat on the groom-to-be’s lap.

 “Just don’t tell my hubby,” the man said laughing.   

 “You guys are just too cute!” one of the girls in the group said taking a few more pictures, “You need to party with us all night!”

 Which they did. Drink and more drinks with a million more pictures before Britney came descending down like an angel from heaven. Quite literally in white feathers and all.

 Song after song while they sang at the top of their lungs dancing along with the beat.

 The music swelled and Dick couldn't help but admire the way Jen looked in the glow of flashing multi-colored lights laughing and dancing along with the beat. Sure he still had feelings for her, almost 10 years later. But he was grateful because they had something stronger than sexual attraction. They had a friendship. Something that had been tested by everything. From a failed relationship both togeather and separately. Fights, disappearances, and even deaths. Yet here they were, like old times, just enjoying the silly things in life together. Experiencing the world with both arms open.

 And he as grateful they were fri...

 "Happy birthday" her voice cut off his musings mid thought. Her bright eyes looking up at him as they glowed in the light of the music. Beautiful blue almost magical. Her smile, the smile that seemed to emanate from her very body, that smile that would make him weak in the knees. That smile that he would do anything to see.

 Who was he kidding? He was in love with her, he would be until his dying breath.

 Maybe it was the alcohol, or maybe it was the magic of Britney, but suddenly all his resolve was gone. That small thin thread of friendship he had been clinging too disappeared with the smoke that filled the air as he leaned forward kissing her.

 And to his pure delight, she kissed him back.

 He must have been dreaming, there was no way this was real. Yet here they were, and God did she taste amazing.

 Pulling away he found himself lost in those blue beautiful eyes totally forgetting where he was. Not even the power of Britney Spears herself could bring him back from the heaven he had been pulled into.

 "Wana get out of here?" He asked, more of a plea than a question. She nodded slipping her hand into his.

 He had never run so fast in his life.

 Pulling her with him hearing her laughs ringing in his ears as they darted around other guests of the hotel. A laugh that was more beautiful than any other sound in the world. God, it took all his self-control to not take her right there in the middle of the Planet Hollywood.

 They were in the room moments later as he pulled her into another kiss. Hands desperately moving over at her outfit (or lack there of), her hair, her skin. Anything and everything. Just to feel her, taste her, just to get her as close to him as possible.

 They landed on his bed her looking up at him with those beautiful blue eyes as he undid her bra-let.

 "Are you sure you want this?" She whispered doubts filling her eyes as she studied him. He felt himself melt seeing her under him for the first time in a long time so vulnerable. If it had been anyone else he would have taken this as a cue to slow down but he knew Jen. She was a clear communicator even more so when drunk. "because I don't know if I can promise anything later and..."

 Gently he leaned  down kissing her, "I want this more than you will ever know"

 -------

 "I won" Faith sang skipping down the Batcave holding out her phone. Damian scowled as he walked up to the girl who stood smugly holding up her phone.

 "You gave him a keychain, I had a katana"

 "Oh silly, that was simply a division, " Faith said showing the others her phone.

 "What... is that GRAYSON?"

 Stephanie giggled leaning forward to look at the pictures Faith was showing them, "man they look amazing" There was a picture of Dick dressed up in his Circus outfit complete with top hat and open tux jacket. Body glitter over his face and bare chest.

 There were a few of Jen in her outfit kissing her snake.

 Another picture showed Dick holding Jen's hand up as he spun her around.

 “Who took these pictures?” Tim asked

 “I have my ways.” Faith giggled before swiping to another photo.

 One of the everyone’s favorite non-couple (after Maia and Roy) kissing under the flashing colored lights.

 "Jen's the one who got him those tickets" Damian mumbled going back to the mat unconvinced of how this was Faith’s gift.

 "That's what they think... but where do you think she got the idea? Who do you think casually mentioned it to Annabella what their outfits should be? Who do you think kept saying what happens in Vegas stays in Vegas? And who knew put in the right situation those two would finally get over it?" Faith said sweeping her hands open as she revealed her master plan. Tim laughed shaking his head

 "You really are a little puppet master."

 “I mean… it’s Britney Bitch” Faith giggled, “Anything can happen.”

[spookybooscarystorytime]

31 Days of Halloween: Day 5 | The Fun House | A Creepypasta

New Post has been published on http://www.scarystorytime.com/creepypasta/31-days-of-halloween-day-5-the-fun-house-a-creepypasta.html

31 Days of Halloween: Day 5 | The Fun House | A Creepypasta

The dusk air was clogged with the scents of deep fried food, the air clouded with the exclamations of hundreds of happy carnival goers as they sped through rides with reckless abandon. It was the perfect evening, The joyous atmosphere filling the hearts and minds of everyone there with enough fun to last until their next adventure. I couldn’t help but smile my brightest, widest grin.

It was the season of carnivals, fairs and outdoor festivals. The sweet smell of cotton candy washed over the land like a flash flood. The bright emerald of my eyes swept over the masses, spying large over stuffed animals bobbing through the crowd as children and adults alike totted their prizes through the fair grounds. Everyone here, tonight, was a child at heart. Including myself.

Spying one of my favorite carnival treats, the fun house, I giddily trotted over towards the old converted trailer in search of those infamous mirrors and cheap pranks. My friends had all gone in search of their favorite greasy fair delicacies, leaving me to my own devices. While I disliked going on most of the rides by my lonesome, I could more then handle the various mysteries inside the funhouse. After all, they were mostly geared to scare children. Most of them I had seen a million times, and at most, provided me a chuckle or two. Once in a while something would jump out and startle me, but even then the prank was met with laughter. It was a fun house after all!

I dug a few tickets from my pocket, taking inventory as I read the sign outside the old trailer. A young Hispanic man stood by the door, his smile only broke by a sip from his fresh ice cold lemonade he held in his right hand. As people entered, he would smile and nod, placing their tickets in his pocket. It was five tickets to enter, I had exactly seven. What a fine way to end my magical night at the fair!

Passing the little light blue squares of paper off to the vendor, I merrily stepped up the stairs and into the dark interior of the large refurbished trailer. I had to blink a few times to adjust my eyes to the light. Pausing for just a moment, I pulled the length of my long red hair back over my shoulders and secured it with the purple hair tie from my left wrist. I was ready to have some fun, all by my lonesome.

As I began down the tiny dark corridor, I could hear the echos of the people who entered before me chuckling and squealing. I heard a couple up ahead, the woman giggling like a school girl after her boyfriend (Or male counterpart I should say instead of making assumptions) let out a frightened cry. I quietly uttered a chuckle. Men usually seemed to be the biggest chickens when it comes to these types of thrills!

As I rounded the first dark corner, I was met with my first scare. An old prop of a hanging man flew out from the way, it’s limbs flailing about limply from the sudden jolt that had forced it from its place in the wall. I jumped, my body flooded with an anxious tingling that seemed to dissipate out through my fingers and toes. I chuckled, pushing the dummy aside as I headed further into the fun house. There was something odd, as my fingers had pushed against the prop, it had felt slightly warm and gooey. Great effects! Perhaps they had actually put some effort into things this year!

After another couple feet, a ghastly glowing sheet came flying across the ceiling accompanied by the familiar ghostly sounds Halloween had made famous. My green sights followed the sheet until it disappeared into a back wall. Without a second thought I made my way further down the hall. Before long I came to another corridor, my face almost meeting the black wall rather abruptly if not for my toes hitting the painted card board. I blinked, squinting for a moment to gather my bearings again. It was easy to get lost in places like this, the black interior and lack of lighting leaving you disorientated and easier to spook.

Before I had time to recover from my encounter with the wall, there was a horrifying shriek, followed by another cheap prop dislodging from the wall. I let out a squeal of surprise, falling back onto the floor as the dummy swung back and forth in front of me. It had several flashing green LED lights scatted around it in odd places. I chuckled as I plucked myself back up off the floor. I gave my butt a rub or two, my cheek’s a little sore from the tumble. It was nothing big, especially not compared to the thrills I was getting this time around!

I started off again, the dummy having the same warm gooey texture as the last. This time, however, my fingers came away wet. I frowned a bit as I wiped them off on my jeans. Probably glue from those little dollar store LED lights. Perhaps the vendor could offer me some wet wipes after wards. It would only be right, since it was their sloppiness that had caused it.

There were several more props that dislodged from the dark walls, their little trap doors squeaking as they popped open to spit out some thrills. Various pained cries, shrieks and halloween sound effects echoed through the halls. I couldn’t hear any more people in the trailer, they must of all made it out already. I was having a blast, my voice bouncing through the darkness with chuckles and squeals. I hadn’t thought twice about the grotesque creativity used in the props, most of the dummies appearing rather lifelike in the dark. To me, they were simply an improvement to the same old funhouse sh-peal. It was nice to see (and feel) some effort being put into this carnival classic.

After about five minutes I came to a door, my hands finding the knob before I even realized what was in front of me. I attempted to turn it, but it wouldn’t budge. Frowning, I furrowed my brow in frustration. Removing my attention from the door, I felt my way around the hallway around me, running my fingers along the black walls. There didn’t seem to be another way through. Maybe it was just jammed!

I leaned my body into the door, my hands furled as tightly as they could around the little handle. I noticed something strange when I pressed up against the door. There was a low mechanical hum coming from behind the door. I paused, pressing my ear to the black entryway as I listened intently for any other sounds. Perhaps it was the generator outside that powered the entire fun house. Shrugging it off, I lofted a little sigh of disappointment as I realized the door was going to budge. I’d take a wrong turn, obviously. Prepared to turn around and shuffle my way back to find the correct path, I slipped in something wet on the floor. Immediately my stomach churned as my mind raced to assumptions. Urgh. Someone had probably thrown up in here, either from fear or intoxication and I’d just stepped in it! Disgust rushed through me, quickly dispelling the happy vibe that had followed me around all evening. What a great way to end the night.

Now focusing more on my surroundings I began to notice a smell. It didn’t reek of vomit, but rather it was a bitter, metallic smell. Oil from the generator? No, it was a little different. More bittersweet. I scrunched my nose before heading back down the corridor. Whatever it was, it didn’t matter I had to be close to the end by now. I had a sudden desire to go find my friends and head back home for the night. My fun had been ruined by someone else’s bad luck. At least I wasn’t the only one who had wandered down the wrong tunnel.

Dragging my fingers along the walls, I searched for another passage. It only took a moment or two before my fingers slid around a corner to my right. I don’t know how I managed to miss it before, but I hurried turned the corner. My face smacked right into another prop as I rounded the corner. I shrieked with the sudden shock, my body instinctively falling back away from whatever it was I had just ran into. As I glanced up towards the source of the thrill, several LED lights flickered on and off behind it, one of those cheap Halloween sound effects blaring in the back ground. What I saw in those few short lived green flashes horrified me. This time I got a good look at the dummy, almost every last inch of its frame covered in what looked like blood. From the chest down into the stomach cavity was torn open, fresh sausage looking guts poured out onto the floor. It hung suspended by its neck from the ceiling. As I sat there on the floor, another bright green flash erupted behind it. It was then that true terror struck me. Terrified eyes rolled down towards me, peering down directly into my own. That was no dummy!

Completely encompassed by the sudden onset of fear, my body went into over drive. As my limbs began to flail beneath me in an attempt to get up, I began to slip on blood that had pooled on the floor. My heart beat feverishly against the walls of my chest, my breathing flying out of control as I began to drown in my own panic. All those dummies… Those props! They were real! I began to whimper as it all began to sink in. Digging my heals down into the floor the best I could, I pushed myself back, crab walking back down the corridor in search of an exit. Loosing track of time, I crawled back frantically through the dark hallway for what seemed like forever until I felt it was safe to turn around. I wanted out of that freakish house of horrors immediately. That was no fun house!

Rolling around onto all fours, I became horribly aware of the racket I was making. How long had I been whimpering? Had someone heard me? Paralyzing fear threatened to break down the door to my subconscious as I crawled on all fours back the way I had come. I needed to get out of here, immediately. Whoever was killing people might still be in there and I didn’t want to meet them!

At long last I saw a brightening of the black heavy duty cardboard walls of the “fun house”. I gasped a sigh of relief, hot tears beginning to pour down my face as I hurried towards the exit. Sunlight became more apparent as I crawled, its weak last rays fighting for its life against the twilight. There was shuffling behind me now in the corridor, and a low scraping sound. I whimpered loudly, my voice jagged with pure horror. I was almost out of this place!

At last I reached the door way from which I had entered. Throwing my hands out the door, I curled my fingers over the door jam to thrust myself forward and on down the stairs. As my body rolled out onto the grass, a loud cry of frustration echoed from inside the trailer. I didn’t waste any time, rolling onto my stomach and pushing myself up onto my feet. Again my emerald eyes rolled along the crowd, their terrified faces gawking at me as I rose to my full height. I didn’t wait, I didn’t stop. Breaking out into tears, I pushed through the crowd, leaving bloody hand prints on t-shirts and bare shoulders. I wanted to get out of there right now.

When I finally found my friends, they all gathered around me in an effort to comfort my trembling frame. By then I was uncontrollably crying, my salty tears leaving streaks in the bright red blood from the fun house. Security had already been called, and it took them very little time to find me. They had stormed the fun house, quickly discovering the grisly remains of eleven people. The culprit had yet to be found, but they were scouring the grounds as they questioned me. I only half listened, the crowd of hundreds of people and their over sized stuffed animals suddenly terrified me. One of them, any one of them, could have been the culprit.

Original Story

Music and sound effects by Myuu