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[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

To a Tea 3

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc. 

Part of the Sweet and Spicy AU 

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as dubcon/noncon, and other possible triggers. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk. 

18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you. 

Summary:  A demanding customer grows increasingly needy.

Character:  Raymond Smith

The title is a pun, don’t @ me.

Please comment and reblog if it’s not too much. I always love getting to chat about these stories and hearing all your ideas! You all are wonderful and loved. 

Six days in a row and you’re ready to keel over. Amid your busy schedule, you hadn’t a chance to fill your quickly dwindling cupboards and fridge. So, after a ten-hour shift on your feet, running all around the tables and between tea rooms, you expend the last of your strength on a quick trip to the shop. 

It isn’t too far out of your way. It’s just a half-block away from your stop. You could wait until tomorrow, your day off, but you’re dying for a strawberry shortcake mochi before you tuck into bed. The rest of your night isn’t too unusual; you’ll be happy to fall asleep to an episode of the same old sitcom that you know by rote. 

You yawn over the bask hooked over your elbow. You have your mochi and a few other staples to get you through; eggs, oat milk, and your favourite brand of granola. You rub your forehead as a stitch threatens to imprint itself permanently. Tomorrow you’ll do a proper shop. 

You stop just before the cashier and peruse the discount shelf. Those chocolate-covered gummy worms are deadly. You shouldn’t. 

You reach for the package, eyeing it up, blinking away another yawn. Those will only have you waking up with a sore tummy. 

“You’d be better off with the dark chocolate, or even the peanuts,” someone says. The timbre is dulcet but firm, and strangely familiar. 

You look over at the figure standing around the side of the shelves. You fear you might be hallucinating as you stare at Raymond. He has a square of protein chocolate in hand but sets it back where he got it, making certain it and every other bar is straight. 

“Oh, hi?” You stammer.  

The tea shop is busy and you’re certain you’ve probably crossed paths with at least one customer outside store hours, but never like this. If anything, you both look the other way and carry on. Instead, he’s intent on you, shifting to face you fully as he sets his shoulders, clutching his hands before him. 

“Though I do suppose you’ve already got the ice cream, it hardly matters what else you add to your lot,” he muses. 

You look in your basket then at him. Is he judging you? Mr. Black Tea, plain. You hang the bag back on the hook. As you do, he steps forward and you shuffle back on your heels. He pulls the bag in line with others, rescinding his hand with a flutter of fingers. 

“If you’re in the mind for something sweet, there’s a place near here, it has a sticky toffee pudding more worth the expense,” he suggests. 

You don’t know what to say. You haven’t seen him since he muttered about your apron strings. In the two weeks after, you assumed he might not come back. As particular as he is, you thought you’d gone egregiously over the line. And yet, you’d forgotten about him for all the other bodies passing through the door. 

“Thanks, I’ll look into that,” you say. 

“Mm,” he hums and his eyes flit up and down behind his lenses, “you sound different.” 

“Do I?” You reach to scratch your neck. 

“You look different too.” 

You tilt your head and give a confused grimace, “well, I...” you glance down, “suppose I'm not wearing my apron.” 

“Must be it,” he agrees, “you sound tired.” 

“I guess... yeah,” you take a breath and let it out slowly.  

It’s strange. He’s not a customer here, there is no need to please and yet you feel you must. You poke the tip of your tongue out then hide it behind your lips. 

“Not in a bad way,” he assures you.  

“Right, thanks,” you say in a fracture, “that’s nice, but uh, I... I’m just on my way home.” 

“I know,” he says. 

“...so then I’ll just be--” you point towards the checkout and falter, “what did you say?” 

“Yes, down Trafalgar. I know. It’s late,” he peers over towards the transparent walls along the front of the shop, “these parts aren’t too safe this time of day.” 

“Trafal--“ you begin but can’t finish, “Raymond.” 

He blinks, his expression scarily placid. 

“Details,” he says evenly, “it is best to keep note of them. It is dangerous not to mind them.” He raises a finger, “one might not notice the shadow that walks behind theirs or the window they left open in the kitchen.” 

Your lip trembles as your heart sinks, “have you... have you been following me?” 

“Following... that sounds sinister,” he gives a crooked expression, “no, no, I would consider it... I keep you safe.” 

“Safe. From what, exactly?” 

He narrows his eyes and his lips straighten thoughtfully.  

“Well, from men like me.” 

His words turn your blood to ice. Men like him. What does he mean? 

“I...” you take a step back and he moves with you. You put your hand up to stop him as you still, “Raymond, do not come any closer.” 

“You don’t understand, I wouldn’t hurt you,” he says, “that’s what makes me different. Not like those other men.” 

“I mean it,” you warn him. “If you come any closer, I will make a scene.” 

Your adrenaline courses through you. You’re awake now. The yawns have dissipated and your eyes are wide. 

“Ah, and that’s where I am like the other men,” he shrugs, “it doesn’t matter if I come closer to you right now. Hardly matters. Because I can wait. I have waited. And when I...” he steps towards you and you put the basket between you, his stomach pressing against it, “come closer, you will not even see me coming.” 

You stare at him, horrified. His blue eyes gleam and he reaches to straighten his glasses. He smirks and his brows draw up coyly. He leans in and you lean away. Then suddenly, he backs off and tugs his cuffs straight, then fixes his tie. 

“Don’t forget to close your window,” he says as he spins on his heel, “wouldn’t want some nocturnal creature creeping in.” 

You gape after him as he saunters off. You can’t quiet move as disbelief has you stuck to the spot. It’s all so sudden. So unexpected. How could you ever predict something like this? The uptight man from the tea shop, a stranger really, a face who disappeared for a whole fortnight, and he’s just shaken your entire world into disarray. 

Men like him? You don’t even know who he is. Only his name and how he likes his tea. 

[half-dead-ham]

Tim Drake's I.E.F chapter 2

[Previous chap][Ao3 chap][Masterlist][next chap]

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

Going in alone wasn't his best idea, but maybe he wasn't alone?

The last month has been weird for Tim.

His days have been mostly normal, conference meetings and emails for WE, school, and family drama were all as okay as usual. His nightlife, however, was driving him crazy, for multiple reasons. Well, mainly just two reasons.

The first reason was the big case he was working on. Department store robberies and break & enters focusing on electronics have been popping up throughout Old Gotham and the City Hall District. Reports say the goods just vanish from sight, only to reappear on the black market. The fact that security cameras and motion sensors in the stores can't detect the perps means that Tim is either working with advanced camouflaging tech, or a meta. He hopes it isn't a meta… Either way he can't find them and it's giving him a massive headache.

The second reason is the thing that's been following him almost since the beginning of the case. It started with one of the robberies, either the third or fourth. Tim had gotten a call from the GCPD about a theft at an older repair shop with the same M.O. as a few of the previous thefts they've gotten over the week, and the officers wanted help looking for evidence. He showed up and they took him behind the counter to show him the—frankly piss-poor quality—CCTV footage.

It didn't make sense, one minute the parts were there, old stereos and DVD players lining the shelves, and the next poof! They had vanished. It had Tim replaying the tape—literal tape!—over and over to try and see through the pixely mess for anything useful. By the fourth replay he was getting a tension migraine and the officers that had directed him to the tube TV displaying it had moved on to other parts of the shop.

He felt it then. A cold… something bumps the back of his head. Too cold for any living person, short of Mr. Freeze, had any right to be. He whipped around expecting for the officers to be tied up, a gun at his head, something different that he hadn't noticed because he was too focused on the damn tape. But he found nothing. The cops were still looking at the shelves and racks lined with spare parts, the lights of their cars still flashing through the floor to ceiling storefront windows.

Tim was reeling.

He was sure he felt something, he was sure! He could still feel something, a chill creeping down the back of his spine and an extra set of eyes on him he couldn't account for by where the officers were standing. Just to make sure he did a few sweeps of the shop with the different view modes built into the lenses in his domino mask.

He forgot the fact that what had touched him was cold due to lack of sleep and hadn't switched to infrared. If he had he would have seen a person sized cold spot floating above him.

'Lack of sleep must be getting to me more than I thought.' He had to grumble at the voice in his head that sounded suspiciously like Dick telling him that coffee wasn't a sleep substitute and he was 'a growing boy that needs his rest!'

He ignored that voice and turned back to the tapes, still feeling the eyes on him.

After that it became a regular thing, the cops would tell him about another robbery, he'd show up, then after a little while he'd get that cold creep up his spine and feel that invisible set of eyes on him. It was honestly driving Tim more crazy than the 'ghost thieves' as the GCPD were calling them. A few times he thought he could see something out of the corner of his eye, a flash of white and black, an extra silhouetted reflection above and behind him in a window or mirror. He knew something was following him.

The eighth time it showed up it wasn't at a crime scene, he was perched on a rooftop near the clock tower, enjoying the view, when he felt those—by now—familiar eyes on him. With a better view to the open space he tried to get a look at the thing following him (this time switching to inflated even!) but as it was already mid fall it was too cold to get a good reading up so high at this time of night.

'Why is it so insistent on following me?' he thought exasperatedly. It wasn't like he was one of the more interesting vigilantes in Gotham. From the way this creature felt (predatory, like a wolf stalking a deer) it would probably have loads more fun stalking Jason, or maybe it'd like Dick more, with his funny quips and fluid movements. Tim was… he was Tim, the smart one, but he wasn't very flashy or enthusiastic about what he does. He was just one of the bats, the replacement, and not a very good one if he got replaced.

A snowflake landed on Tim's nose, startling him out of his depressive spiral. He looked up, wondering how long he had been like that, when two things occurred to him. One, it was late September, it wasn't due to snow for at least two more months, it couldn't be snowing unless one of the colder rouges got out of Arkham and decided to build another weather machine. Two, the thing. It was right next to him. He could feel it watching him. It was… was it worried for Tim? Had it noticed Tim going down a bad train of thought and decided to startle him out of it… with a snowflake?

He discreetly inches his hand over to where he thought the creature was beside him, but only came into contact with the cornice underneath them. Retracting his hand, he let his legs drop out from under him, going from a crouch to a sit and letting the circulation back into his feet. He looked out into Gotham and watched the lights of the cars travel underneath them. It was peaceful, until Oracle called him about a shooting two blocks west of his location.

The being stuck with him until his patrol ended, and by the end of the night he figured even if the thing was creepy and following him, he didn't mind the company.

Then he told Dick about it.

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

Tim was riding to his stakeout spot when he felt the presence come up beside him. He no longer thought it was malicious, despite how weird it felt, and he had noticed a few more times of the thing trying to be useful while on patrol; tripping up thugs, redirecting stray bullets away from him, highlighting clues during an investigation (he still doesn't know how it made the weapon actually glow.) It was nice knowing someone had his back that weren't his annoying siblings, who still thought he was making the thing up.

He stopped two blocks down from the electronic store his contacts had told him would be targeted tonight and set off to don't a good vantage point. The bakery across the street wasn't ideal, but it had a good view and a large enough smoke stack that he could easily hide behind if needed, so he went around the back to the fire escape. Two attempts was all it took to get the ladder clanging to the alley pavement, and knowing his family he'd be getting called rusty or a disgrace by at least two of them if they knew he didn't get it on the first try.

The bloom of frost on the back of his neck made him shiver and refocused his thoughts back on the mission. He scaled up to the first landing and resecured the ladder to its upright position, then went the rest of the way two rungs at a time. He hopped up onto the back ledge of the building and strides across to the front, booting up the security bypass coding feature to connect him to the CCTV footage of the store in front of him.

He worked to get all the cams up in a grid then waited, absently noticing the cold presence floating in loose circles around his head. The sounds of Gotham's nightlife has his mind wandering as he went back to the morning he accidentally told Dick about his patrol company.

"Awwwee, Timmy has an imaginary friend!" He'd exclaimed, getting the attention of the rest of the breakfast table.

Stephanie, lovable Stephanie, burst into a guffawing laughter, Duke barely restraining his giggles behind his hand. Damian had just sent him a scowl for interrupting the peace.

"It's not imaginary, Dick, the thing following me is real! It landed a snowflake on my nose last night. It's September! We won't have snow for another two months! Explain how that could have happened Dick." He crossed his arms and sat back in his chair.

"You sure you weren't just imagining it?" He countered with a stupid, stupid smirk.

Tim did not pout, he didn't, especially when the other two burst into another fit of unchecked laughter. Knowing he wouldn't get anywhere with them, he decided to take his death wish coffee back to his room to answer some company emails.

The alarm blaring from the store in front of him brought him back out of his reminiscence, realzing he'd only been half paying attention to the security feed, and that the cold spot was now right over his shoulder.

A silent curse was all he gave before standing up, -the cold floating off a bit- and pressing the button on his comms to an open channel.

"Oracle, it's RR." The comms popped and came to life with a response.

"Red, I'm guessing you couldn't see anything on the CCTV footage?"

He was hoping the better equipped Oracle had noticed something, but with the tone of her voice, that wasn't the case.

"So you didn't see anything either?" He replied with a groan. So much for that lead. Walking a few paces away from the cornice he groaned, "what kind of tech could hide someone from all the cameras in there?"

No reply meant Oracle was just as stumped as he was, and after a pregnant pause he murmured "you think it could be a meta?"

Continuing with the thought would only give him another headache, but he couldn't dismiss the possibility. "That could be why we didn't even see the goods getting moved," he added on.

"That's a worrying possibility, but even metas leave traces. Maybe something will come up during the investigation this time? See what you can find."

"I'll try, but I don't know how much I'll find even if I can see them," was all he could say in reply. It was sad how little he'd been able to get during the last dozen investigations, and he doubts it'll be different for this one.

He was alerting the police while keeping up the conversation with Oracle when he felt something go through him. He couldn't suppress the full body shudder he had to the sensation. It was like someone had poured ice water down his front and caught it with a towel before it could reach his leg, and he did not like that.

He breathed out a wheezy "what the fuck?" Before needing to stumble back on stiff knees.

"RR, are you okay? What happened?" It was so sudden he couldn't shut his comm off. Great, now he needed to explain to Oracle what was happening.

Shakily he sputtered "I-I'm f-f-fine. My patrol buddy just gave me the worst heebie-jeebies e-ever."

"Patrol buddy? Tim, no one's in your vicinity to be on patrol with you, who are you talking about?"

"Oh, are we talking about Timmy's imaginary friend again?" Dick broke in, stupid open channel, stupid slow crime night.

"Imaginary friend? Tim, are you okay, you told us you were getting enough sleep after patrols." The worry in her voice would have been comforting if he couldn't hear Dick's smarmy smirk all the way from Blüdhaven.

"Don't worry O, Timmers' here is just finally getting to be a kid again," Dick explained lightly. Tim wanted to strangle him right now, the concern radiating from Barbara's end was not helping.

"I don't know Dick, this could be something bad, what if he's hallucinating due to lack of sleep? It's happened more than once already."

Tim snapped at that. "The amount of sleep I'm getting is neither of your concerns! Just because I'm getting less than recommended doesn't mean none at all. And no I am not hallucinating! I just felt something go through me and nothing's here! I'm-" He was cut off by Dick saying something about a cold with all the shivering he was doing but he quickly cut that off.

"No I'm not coming down with something Dick!" He shouted into the comm. He was tired of his family making fun of him for being stalked. Sure, the thing stalking him may be friendly, and may help him get out of spiralling thoughts, but it could be a spy! Or an evil alien come to replace him! Or one of their rouges' new secret weapons! And they're laughing about him having an imaginary friend! That was all kinds of degrading he didn't want to have on him.

Before he could get another word out his wrist computer beeped. Stunned and confused to silence, Tim raised his gauntlet to show that, somehow, his tracker was travelling away from him and towards the docks.

He was still on the same roof he was on half an hour ago.

"What?" Was what came out of his mouth, mentally followed by a 'the fuck?' as he watched the little blinking light speed through the grid representing Gotham's street system. Frowning further he stuck his other hand into the front left pouch in his utility belt, the one that normally held the tracker. He felt around in it as though the pouch was deeper than a few fingers, and pulled back his gloved hand with nothing in it. His tracking bug wasn't in his belt. Remembering the full body chill he got moments before, he realized the sensation ended just below his belt.

Where his tracker used to be.

His head shot up, swivelling and searching for something he knows he won't find with his eyes. The cold spot had travelled to the back of the building and was slowly making its way back to him, coming from the sound of screeching tires it wasn't hard to make the connection.

His buddy just put a lead in his lap, and damn if Tim wasn't going to take it.

Interrupting whatever lame spiel Dick was ranting about, Tim cut in.

"Guys, I think I got a lead." He was met with a few seconds of dead air before both Dick and Babs blew up on him.

"What?!- How?!- When did you see them?- Do you need backup?- how did you get sight of them if you were talking to us?-"

Tim cut them off again, he loved his family, but sometimes they could be loud.

"Something took my tracker. I don't know what has it but it's heading to the docks, I'm going to see where it's headed and maybe find some clues about either who took it, or that tech."

Dick spoke up, worry laced in his serious tone, "Tim this is a really good time to point out that this could be a trap. Whatever has your bug was able to take it off you without you noticing, maybe you should get someone to go with?"

The presence seemed to droop at Dick's worrying, if it really just gave him the one thing to bust this case open, he couldn't not go.

"I don't think it's a trap," he replied. "If what I think happened, then that thing that's stalking me might just have given me the lead I need to bust this case open. And yes I know you guys still don't believe me about the thing, but I've seen and felt too many things over the past month not to think something's keeping tabs on me."

While they couldn't see them, the hand gestures gave him some relief for his exasperation. Grumbling the last bit made him feel like he was talking to an older brother though, which, he guessed he was, technically.

"I'll be in Gotham soon for the weekend, radio me if anything, and I mean anything comes up, okay?" Dick's older brother qualities really shine through at times like these, making a spot in Tim's chest warm.

He sent a small reassuring "will do" through the channel before turning his comm off. He needed off that roof to follow the tracker, and even while rushing to his bike he kept glancing at his computer to make sure the bug wouldn't magically go offline.

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

Finding the tracking bug wasn't all that difficult, when it finally stopped in a section of the docks known for shady deals and villain hideouts Tim had to ditch the bike in favour of the stealthier rooftop option. He really didn't want any other criminals noticing him, and even though the bike was quiet, it wasn't that quiet. Corrugated steel wasn't the best surface for freestyle parkour, but when you're part of the bat family you get used to it. The fact that it had rained earlier in the day meant he had to be extra careful with how he landed, if he didn't want to slip up between jumps.

His patrol buddy seemed to be getting more active the further they went into the area, feeling the cold spot circling around his head as though waiting for something to jump out, and Tim had to wonder if that was a good or bad thing. He hoped it was the first option.

Tim had to refocus as they bounded over another rooftop and came up on the warehouse in which his tracer had stopped in. It was lit up like a Christmas tree compared to the surrounding buildings, unnecessary, but a good first clue to what's going on inside.

Three guards, all armed with handguns, were positioned at the main entrances but weren't doing a very good job of being lookouts. Seemed like an amateur group, then, all the better. Amateurs in Gotham were stupid and overconfident, they didn't know how to handle the bats and were often brushed away as easily as Alfred sweeping up dust.

Finding an entry point was easy, after circling the building via adjacent rooftops Tim figured  the open window in the rear end of the building, that probably led to an old office space, would be his best bet. He made sure there wasn't anyone in the room, then used his grapple gun to launch himself through the frame in such a way Dick would be proud of. Rolling on his shoulder and coming up in a crouch, he canvassed the room for bugs or weapons (empty as it was.) Finding nothing he crept his way out through the doorway and into the hallway.

The hallway held five more doors, most likely leading to more old offices, but unlike his entry point these frames all had their doors intact. Investigating to make sure the second floor was clear of people would be his first task, but a sound reverberating from the open end of the hallway had him creeping to the grated catwalk above the main part of the warehouse to investigate.

He gasped. 'This is it,' Tim thought as he observed the floor below, 'all of the stolen tech is right here!' Thirty men dressed in black and armed were sorting through gaming consoles, PC towers, camera equipment and other devices on his left. On his right were three vans, one with its back doors swung open, revealing the freshly stolen flatscreen displays they had pilfered from the electronic store only an hour before.

He watched it all, taking note of the stark white belts some of the goons wore and taking photos through his domino lenses. A quiet scuff behind him had Tim instinctively swerving out of the way of a lead pipe aimed for his head. Kicking out and catching his attacker on the shins, the thugs' forward momentum carried him face first into the iron mesh grate keeping them on the second floor. Tim smiled a little at the mental image of the guy going splat, but the humour was short lived as the impact of the fall had loosened the grunts grip of his still outstretched arm on his weapon. Causing the pipe to roll out of his hand, and falling down to the workspace below before Tim had a chance to catch it.

Shit.

The pipe landed with a loud echoing clang! as the whole warehouse went deathly quiet. Tim held his breath, hoping the ghost thieves would just go back to sorting their goods so he could hightail it outta there, but as a shot rang out and a bullet whizzed by his temple, he realized only the second part of that thought would be happening.

'Fuck fuck fuck fuck!' was all he could think as he raced full tilt back to the window that had let him in. Bullets and angry exclamations ringing through the air as he made his escape onto the rooftop across from him. Looking back to the main entrance Tim thought he would be safe for a few moments to catch his breath while they rallied together, until the doors crashed open and a mob of angry men stormed out of the building to give chase.

He needed to leave. Now.

Sprinting over the roof and bounding across the steep to the next overhang, Tim couldn't keep the shouting and gunshots out of his head. He stayed focused, knowing that the urge to get away and staying alive was overriding the freeze response that so badly wanted to lock his joints. Practice and experience were the only thing keeping his brain focused on launching himself and landing even as bullets sped past his form. A searing pain in his bicep bloomed as he came on a downward arc of a leap, followed by a ribbon of pain across his face, but he kept running.

Only when a burst of heat and pain shot through his chest did he finally lose enough focus to slip on a slick section of roofing, legs going out from under him and down the side of the building. His upper torso slammed onto the corrugated steel in a way that had him crying out as the pain raced through him, nearly blacking out. Weakly scrabbling to gain purchase along the sleek metal only made the pain in his arm scream and pulse louder through his head until there was nothing left to grab.

And so he fell.

Static buzzing accompanied the sound of rushing wind as Tim plummeted the thirty feet to the pavement below. He absently wondered where the buzz was coming from, alongside the thoughts of 'Dick's gonna kill me,' 'shit shit shit shit,' and 'Alfred will be crushed that I got crushed, heh.'

Before he could meet the unforgiving pavement rushing up to catch him, something grabbed his uninjured arm by the wrist. He thought he would be jerked to a stop until he felt a cool sensation wash over him, like he'd just chewed on a menthol candy. Then, as if by magic, Tim felt gravity lift off him like shaking off a weighted blanket. The buzzing only got louder as he was gently carried to the ground, legs collapsing on contact.

They were too weak to hold him up.

When he was held by the shoulders and positioned so his back was against the nearest wall, He realized belatedly that it was his patrol buddy.

It had caught him.

It was checking him over.

It was the source of that static buzzing he'd heard before.

Another sensation washed over him, this one of exhaustion, pain, and the feeling that it was safe. That he was protected. That he could close his eyes and everything would be okay when he opened them.

Before the darkness that encroached on his vision overtook him he saw a green light surrounding him, then a figure appeared. He was too exhausted to tell whether the figure was male or female, but he did notice a shock of snow white hair on an otherwise dark clothed body. As the figure stood and turned to meet the angry mob Tim got the last look at who he would later realize to be his patrol companion.

The static buzzing pulsed with the figure as they proceeded to expand. A swirling mass of black cloudy mist with white, glittering flecks rolled towards the other end of the alley like a thundercloud. The haze got too much for Tim to fight and the only thought that entered his addled mind was 'ah, beautiful.'

And then, Tim blacked out.

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

[Ao3][Prev][Next]

[heyitsme1040]

Swing By [spider-man]

summary : Reader just finished her shift at the coffee shop near campus. Wanting nothing more than to nap in her dorm before her study session, she walks home. Being pulled into an alley by two muggers wasn’t on her to-do list for the day. Neither was being saved by New York’s very own friendly neighborhood Spider-Man. Swung to safety, she thanks her masked savior. With the promise of not leaving her until she’s home safe, Spider-Man gets a kiss on the cheek as goodbye minutes before Peter arrives to study for the exam with his lab partner. 

pairings : TASM!Spider-Man/Reader 

warnings : Swearing (I think it’s literally one word), mention of a knife, attempted mugging, mention of feeling the need to be sick (it doesn’t happen), and I think that’s it.  (If I forgot any please let me know!)

word count : 1,980

AO3 (x)

a/n : Day one of Comfortember is here! The prompt was ‘safe’.  

With a tired sigh, I wipe down the counter around the espresso machine one final time. Tossing the rag back into the bucket filled with soapy water, I begin to untie my apron. Finally finished with the closing process, I was ready to be back at my dorm so I could take a quick nap before studying for my biophysics exam with my lab partner. Hanging my apron on the hook I claimed in the back, I emerged from behind the counter with my backpack and headphones for the final time today. Turning the lights off, I finally close the door behind me and lock it.

I began the quiet walk to campus instead of waiting on the bus today. The sun is starting to set as I weave my way through the crowds of people on the sidewalk. Passing a quiet alley, I’m suddenly pulled into it. A hand covers my mouth before I can shout, and two more hands hold my arms against my side. 

“You’re going to stay quiet,” a rumbling voice tells me. “No need to disturb those nice people’s day,” the man pointed at the opening to the alley with a knife, “don’t you agree?”

All I can do is nod, hoping that if I cooperate they’ll let me go faster. 

“I’m so glad you agree,” his voice mocks me. “Now, I’m going to keep an eye on you while he takes your bag. Got it?”

Before I can nod again, my backpack is ripped off my shoulders. I look past the man holding the knife toward the mouth of the alley, debating if I can make it back into the crowd before he could catch me. 

“This shit’s useless,” the guy behind me grumbles. “It’s just binders and textbooks,” he complains as I hear my things being dropped to the ground. “This kid has nothing.”

“Well she’s gotta have something,” the man in front of me slowly drags his eyes over me. “Empty your pockets or we’ll–”

He cuts himself off while looking over my shoulder. I hear a faint thwip followed by a choked shout. As the man in front of me turns to run I see webs stick to his feet and the ground. 

“What, can't you stick around?” A voice comes from above me. 

I stay frozen in place, unsure what to do. In a streak of red and blue, Spider-Man lands in front of me. He quickly webs the knife to the wall before trapping the man’s hands to himself. 

“Are you okay?” He automatically asks while turning to face me. 

My tongue feels like lead. I open my mouth, but nothing comes out. Obviously I knew of Spider-Man, but never thought I’d need to be saved by him. I was stunned by this hero, that he happened to notice what was happening in the alley. 

“Hey, it’s alright. You’re safe now, did they hurt you?” His tone softens. 

I can’t see past the white lenses of his mask, but I feel his eyes searching me for some kind of injury. The thought of having his attention focused on me snaps me out of my shocked trance. 

“I’m fine,” I blurted out, “thank you. I, uh, yeah. I’m fine.”

I nod to myself while mentally slapping myself over the word vomit that just escaped me. Looking down, I suddenly remember my bag dumped behind me. I turn around, hoping to hide the embarrassed flush on my face, and crouch to grab my textbooks. Shoving them into my bag, I pick up my binder. As soon as it leaves the ground all my notes start to float out of it into the wind. 

“For fuck’s sake,” I mutter while rushing to grab the papers. 

“Here,” Spider-Man offers me some pages. 

“Thanks,” I squeak out. 

“No problem.” 

Finally zipping my bag shut, I hear sirens approaching. The flash of red and blue lights reflect at the mouth of the alley. 

“Did you let them know they needed to come here?” I groan once again, not wanting to deal with the police.

“I, uh, it’s just–you were being mugged.” I was shocked to hear Spider-Man fumbling over his words. “I reported it before I stopped it. Don’t want these two mugging more people. Y’know the whole ‘friendly neighborhood’ thing isn’t just to describe me.”

I sigh heavily, “I get it. I just don’t want to deal with the cops today. I need to get home soon and don’t have the time to deal with this.”

“The cops don’t like me–”

“Then why did you–”

“So I can swing you home before they arrive.”

Spider-Man holds an arm out to me. I don’t have much time to think as I hear the sirens get louder. Slinging my backpack on, I step closer to him. He wraps his arm around my waist. 

Keeping me facing him he warns, “Close your eyes and hold on as tight as you want,” before he leaps us into the air. 

I quickly bury my face into where I have my arms wrapped around his neck. The rush of us swinging through the air has my head spinning and my stomach dropping. Within minutes I feel him stand on steady ground, my feet landing moments after his. I don’t move yet as my head continues to swim. I feel a warm touch against my hands as he gently pries my hands away from behind his neck. He doesn’t move to push me away from my hiding place in his neck, but he does slowly guide us to sit on the ground. 

“You’re okay,” he reassures. “The head rush is intense the first few times. Putting your head between your knees helps with the dizziness.”

I nod at his guidance, not moving yet. “I feel like I’m gonna be sick.”

“That’s normal, too. Putting your head between your knees also helps with that.”

I slowly unbury myself from him and carefully place my head between my knees. The spinning sensation lets up a little, but I still can’t move from my position. I look at the gravel beneath my shoes, focusing on the pebbles to keep my vision steady. 

“Thank you,” I whisper out, barely audible.

“No problem,” Spider-Man chuckles, “just part of being the friendly neighborhood Spider-Man.”

“Where are we?”

“We’re on top of the Saratoga children’s museum.” 

“How?” I incredulously demand. “That’s like a mile from the coffee shop. And it’s been only, what, a couple of minutes?”

Spider-Man shrugged, but I heard his amused snort. “It’s the same as if you would have driven here.”

I shook my head in disbelief, finally lifting my head to look at him. I couldn’t believe the nonchalance of his answer. He casually swings through the city at like forty miles an hour. And he acts as though that’s nothing. 

“Where do you need to go? Spider-Cab can drop you off wherever you want to go in New York. Free of charge,” he jokes around his offer. 

“Empire State college. Back toward the coffee shop. Then another half mile and you’ll be at the dorms there,” I explain. “But I can get a cab there. You’ve already saved me, and I’m sure someone else out there could use the assistance.”

“I can take you. It’s part of the job. Saving them from danger and keeping them safe. If that means taking you to your dorm, then I promise to keep you safe until then.”

“Alright,” I concede. “Do you have to swing that fast though? I don’t think I can take it.”

Spider-Man stands and offers me a hand, “I’ll go slower this time.”

Taking his hand, Spider-Man pulls me to my feet before pulling away. He turns his back toward me this time and squats down a little. 

“What are you doing?” I tilt my head. 

“Hop on,” he looks over his shoulder. “It won’t be as bad if you’re facing where we swing.”

I hesitate a moment longer before putting my arms around him. His hands grab behind my knees and he shrugs me higher onto his back. He moves one hand to my ankle and crosses it around his waist. Understanding what he’s suggesting, I wrap the other around him. 

“Hold on tight. We’re going to be slower, but that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t hold on tight. I’ve got you, but it’s a bit trickier with someone on my back. Are you okay with this?” He places his hand on top of mine across his chest. 

“I trust you,” I admit. 

I barely hear him say, “I’m glad,” as he stands on the ledge. “Here we go!” He shouts.

And just like that we’re swinging through the city again. I squint against the rushing wind, but keep my eyes open. The city looks so different like this. We’re soaring through the air, people below us unaware we’re here. The sounds of traffic can’t be heard over the wind. It’s peaceful. 

All too soon it comes to an end. Spider-Man swings us past the coffee shop again, and soon we’re at the college campus. I shout over the wind which dorm building is mine and laugh as he gently lowers us to the roof. I feel adrenaline rushing through me alongside the excitement of having swung through the city. 

“Here we are,” Spider-Man announces. 

“I don’t think I can move,” I giggle out. 

I feel him laugh more than I hear it. He once again carefully pries my off of him, unwrapping my legs from his waist before turning in my hold. I don’t feel as dizzy this time, but with how close he is my head is spinning for a different reason. 

“Home safe and sound,” he murmurs. “Just like I promised you.”

“Thank you,” I sigh. 

I finally release my hold from around him, but he doesn’t move. Remaining close to me, I try to imagine what he’s doing behind the mask. If his eyes are searching me the way mine are him. With a lot of courage (and reckless abandon) I kiss him on the cheek. 

“Good night, Spider-Man,” I whisper against his cheek. “Thank you again for saving me.”

I turn away before he can respond, opening the door to the roof access. 

“Good night,” he calls after me. 

I turn to look at him. He hasn’t moved from his spot, but now his hand rests over his cheek. I wave as the door shuts behind me. I feel like I’m floating as I make my way down the stairs to my floor. Unlocking my door, I flop onto my bed with a sigh. Looking at the alarm clock near my head, I see the lights blinking ‘5:45 PM’. I smile in relief that I made it back before my study session at six. I lay still as the feeling of excitement fades away with the adrenaline. Soon, I hear a knock on my door through the haze of a nap creeping into my mind. I look at the clock again to see it’s only been five minutes. Getting up, I crack the door open to see who it is. Recognizing Peter, I quickly close the door and remove the chain before opening it up all the way. 

“Hi,” Peter cheerily greets. 

“Hey,” I smile, “you’re early for a change.”

“I’m usually on time. I’m just chronically late to classes,” he jokes. 

I laugh at his comment. “Yeah, I guess that’s true. You ready to cram for this exam?”

“This professor’s exams are the worst. At least I brought snacks this time,” he groans. 

I close the door as he enters and lock it. Turning on my laptop I opened the study guide the professor emailed us. As we study, I turn the radio on low, smiling as the voice of J. Jonah Jameson starts to bark on about the most recent Spider-Man sighting earlier tonight. 

Author's Note : Reblogs are appreciated, likes are welcome, and if you want to read more of my fics then maybe follow.

©heyitsme1040 If you find this post on any platform under a username different than heyitsme1040 it is not their work.

[judasgot-it]

Confession; Part 2 (Kunikida or Dazai)

Part two of my recent request, I'm gonna try and make it make sense. Also, I know y'all want a part 2 for Dazai, but I like Kunikida, and I feel horrible for doing him so dirty </3 (i feel like it might lowkey be ass tho idk how to characterize kunikida in a romantic sense he's so hard?) SO I made two different endings for them <3

Tagging @babyg1rldazai since they requested this love u so much I hope I delivered IDK

Anyway, I hope this quells y'alls hunger

Kunikida

"I'm sorry Kunikida."

Currently, the two of you were in... you wanted to say 'a bit of a pickle' but that didn't really help with what you were feeling. More like 'fucked in the ass' was a better to phrase it.

Wet, cold, and you personally were rather disappointed. A rather fucked situation. Especially for a first date.

"This is just fine."

The man next to you was staring at the downpour calmly. It had forced the two of you into a small part of a shopping center, hiding underneath a large umbrella. It wasn't doing either of you good though - your clothes were drenched, and you could see Kunikida's hair dripping with the cold rain.

"We probably lost our reservation by now. Sorry, this is my fault. If I got ready on time then this wouldn't be such a mess."

You had to apologize, make it up somehow. Seriously, this situation wasn't what either of you wanted. You could see that his outfit was ruined - he definitely ironed it just for this occasion, and it was his nice "going out suit" that he saved for these types of things too.

It was awful that it was ruined because of you.

"You can't predict this kind of weather. There wasn't anything on the radar about it. Besides, you can just come over and I'll make you something there."

Kunikida had taken off his outer layer, trying to wring out his sleeves. His hands were diligent with the work, starting out big and then carefully wringing out smaller and smaller sections of the cloth. You could see the wrinkles that were forming, even if it was a rather thick fabric.

"This just. Doesn't feel perfect, especially for a first date. I was hoping it would be...more picturesque."

You were playing with your wet shirt collar, musing around with the button. This date already seemed to be full of flaws.

"I was hoping for it to be perfect, you know? That's something you always talk about."

Voicing that outloud seemed to make the rain silent. It was pouring down heavily on the umbrella that the two of you hid underneath, but it was drowned out by the silence you were both now sunk under.

Kunikida looked up from his jacket, staring out into the rain. Maybe it was the wrong thing to say?

He took a breath in. A long one, where you could tell he was counting the seconds. 3 in, hold, and 3 out.

You tried to follow along, but it didn't really help with the anxiety you were feeling at the moment. Those seconds were feeling like near hours as you watched him breathe them in, hold, and out.

"I don't expect things to be perfect. Truth is I don't want them to be. I have an ideal, but that's all it is; an ideal."

Finally, he turned to you. His blond bangs were wet, sticking to his forehead. His glasses were dropping down his nose, foggy and so wet you doubt he could see out of them if he tried. If he wasn't saying something you wanted to hear, he would probably look like a madman of sorts.

"There is no 'perfect romance', and there is no 'falling in love' because in the end - in the end, it's all made up. You can only choose someone."

"So did you want to choose me?"

He nodded, smiling. You reached out, taking his glasses and hopelessly trying to clean the lenses with whatever dry part of your shirt you could find.

"I was hoping maybe we both chose each other. In my ideal, that's how love works."

You looked up at him. He was shifting about nervously, smiling wide. His eyes were focused downward, focusing on your fingers as they tried to clean his lenses. It reminded you of a little boy for a moment, either impatient or nervous - a small line between the two.

Silently, you handed them back, although you could still see smudges from your fingerprints.

Kunikida didn't seem to mind at all, as he wiped away at his face and placed them back onto his nose, his lenses fogging back up again anyway. His smile didn't fade any less, even as he looked back up at you from his clouded lenses.

You smiled back, crooked and imperfect.

"So um."

He shook his head, droplets across the two of you. He visibly cringed, although you couldn't help but let out a large smile at the action.

It was only because of him, you were sure of it. No other man could make acting like a dog so endearing.

"Do you want to come over? I promise it's only just dinner, since we did lose our reservations and all. I'm a good cook and I have a clean kitchen, and I promise to bring you home when you want to, you said around 10 right?"

He was rambling, his hands playing with the coat now wrapped around his arm. You reached out, forced to stop him. Kunikida could go on for far longer if you didn't - he was nervous, and he would probably recite the entire Wikipedia to you if you didn't stop his nerves.

"Yes. I'd love that. I'd love for you to make dinner for us. Maybe we can also watch a movie together, since we have tomorrow off."

You grabbed the coat on his arm, shaking it out. Some of the pockets sagged heavier than the others as you shook it, making you more careful with the article of clothing as it sat heavily in your hands.

"Hey! Hey, what are you doing?"

He reached out nervously, not sure what to do. His hand was stuck in the air, stuck between grabbing you and taking his coat back.

"We don't have an umbrella, and we need something at least a little romantic to happen tonight on our first date."

Your plan was near flawless in your mind. The rain was already making the most perfect score play in your head, and you were already so close and shivering, like sad kittens in a cardboard box. It was the perfect moment to pretend to be in a movie.

Kunikida grabbed one of your hands, his other hand searching through the coats inner pockets.

"Just- just wait a second."

He stepped closer towards you. Faintly, you could smell his perfume. Woody and earthy, but clean like cotton.

"I left this in there."

When he pulled his hand away, you saw he pulled away his notebook.

"Hopefully it's not wet. Your jacket is almost completely soaked."

Kunikida sighed. He flipped the notebook in his hands, the pages only slightly wet.

"I'll live. This notebook can survive worse."

"What about your ideals? Wouldn't you be mad if they're gone?"

"Well-"

Kunikida tucked the notebook into the waistband of his pants, the green awkwardly sticking out against the black ensemble of his outfit. It was a practical placement at the moment, although most certainly not comfortable or fashionable.

"I can just write them again. The most important thing is that I know them, even if I lose my hands."

You smiled, lifting the coat over the both of you. You stretched your arms over his back, trying to place the coat over his head. He grabbed one end, pulling it above the two of you. It wouldn't do too much to stop the downpour, but it was better than nothing.

"That's kind of dark coming from you."

"Is it?"

Kunikida moved his body closer to yours, resting his arm around your shoulders. It was an awkward movement, although as you leaned in against his clammy body, you felt comfortable. Your shivering was quelled, if only slightly.

"Yes. But I like that. I like all of you."

You were glad your position made it hard for him to see your face. Even if you were cold, your face was hot at admitting that part out loud.

"We should go before the rain picks up again. Don't worry, I promise the walk won't be long."

The thick coat above your heads only blocked out little of the rain, but you felt warmer than you should as you were drenched once again in the downpour.

Dazai

Your date with Kunikida wasn't what you were expecting at all.

It was technically perfect, in all aspects. You had worn the perfect outfit, as did he. The restaurant was amazing, and the food was splendid. The service was perfect.

The candlelight dinner was romantic in movies and on TV. But by the end, the two of you seemed to come to the same conclusion - there wasn't any sort of romance between the two of you.

He was technically the perfect guy. You were technically his perfect person too, but there was something missing. Kunikida had recommended an adrenaline-filled activity to spark romance he had seen in an article, but it didn't seem worth it.

You two were work colleagues. All you could talk about was work. Nothing else but that.

Better to not make it awkward, just keep it a funny story to save for later.

Which left you at a park, with nothing. No big romance, no life-changing event. Just loneliness.

How isolating.

The sunset was the only one keeping you company in the moment. Although it was more like dusk at the moment, and you could see more and more people going home. You should probably do that as well.

Although you would really just rather mope. If only for a little bit. Stew and brood in your thoughts for a while.

"I take it the date didn't go so well, huh?"

You lazily turned to look next to you, seeing the usual demon creature that crawled around your workplace.

"We're just work colleagues I guess. No hard feelings, but it's just a little disappointing."

You shrugged your shoulders slightly, bowing your head.

Dazai's voice should have said something annoying in response like he usually would; what you instead found, was his hand comforting you, squeezing your own.

He was completely silent, and instead of his usual cold stares, he felt rather warm. Welcoming. Very different from his usual character.

"Can I be honest with you, Dazai?"

The sun was nowhere to be seen at this point. The sky was a baby blue and the clouds were all a beautiful pink; it was captivating, even if it only lasted for a moment.

"I wouldn't be here now if I wasn't going to listen to you. Otherwise, I'd probably be at the bar right now."

"That sounds like a good idea, better to be drunk than to think."

"Do you want to do that? I have some liquor on me right now."

He let go of your hand, reaching into the inside of his jacket. He pulled out a small, cheap bottle of alcohol - some whiskey he probably bought from a corner store. You were 100% sure it tasted like shit, but you weren't going to reject the offer.

You took the bottle from his hand, your fingers making contact with his. It wasn't worth thinking about, but the touch lingered for a little too long in your mind.

Scrunching your face at the smell, you leaned back as you took a shot, swallowing as quick as you could. It was barely anything, but the burn to your throat was already making your body cry a little.

Quickly, you shoved the bottle towards him, careful not to drop it. Your hand was on his chest but you were trying to forget the burn in your throat - it was as if you were on fire all over now. Dazai laughed at your struggles, taking the bottle from your hands and easily taking down what was probably more than 2 shots, his face telling little of his reaction.

He must have done this a thousand times already.

"That tastes like shit."

"It's alcohol."

"Ok. It's still shit."

The demon of a man just laughed. He was rather close to you, as you could see how little the laugh actually reverberated in his body. It seemed stuck in his Adam's apple, like he was choking but didn't care.

"You were going to say something before this, but I interrupted. Do you still want to share?"

Leaning back and closing your eyes, you took as deep of a breath as you could. You felt it tickle your throat, so you forced your body to relax a little in your seat.

"I'm not sure it's really important. Honestly, I'm probably just feeling emotional or what have you."

"Did Kunikida really do that to you? Didn't think he had that big of a pull game."

You sat up, staring wide-eyed at him. He loved that you were at least offended at the notion. It meant something to him, enough to make him smile a little toothy grin.

"No! It's not like that at all, get your mind out of the gutter. Seriously, we really are just coworkers."

Dazai didn't say anything to that, he simply leaned against the bench, resting his arm around the back and taking another swing of his drink. He was waiting, oh so patiently, for you to start to crack.

"It's kind of stupid..."

Hesitating, you relaxed your legs, spreading them out in front of you. You avoided scuffing your nice shoes but you could still see some dirt on them from having spent the night out. It was unavoidable sometimes, being dirty.

A small silence hung over the both of you. For you, it felt like a small forever, although for him it was probably nothing. He was downright unreadable, relaxed but with eyes like a predator. Happy that he was here, in the moment.

"I don't know if I'm capable of falling in love. Or maybe I'm just a terrible person to love. Anytime I try, it feels like it falls apart because I did something wrong that I don't even know about."

There were crickets somewhere, that were beginning to sing their night song. It was soothing for the moment, as it was one of the few sounds as night was falling upon the two of you.

The whiskey was slid back to you, hitting your thigh. Dazai stood up, hands in his pockets. He never slid his eyes away from you, staring you down as if you were an unsolvable Rubix cube.

Quietly, you took another drink, cringing at the taste. You kept your own eyes on him, rather observing his face than keeping up with his inane staring contest. You watched his hair blow in the slight breeze, his lips twitch slightly, and the countless imperfections in his skin.

He was a lot more interesting to look at than you'd thought.

"Personally Y/n, I don't think you're a bad person. Not to fall in love, anyway. I've met far worse, and I can say for certain that you don't even top the list."

He had a small smile, one that truly reached his eyes. It was one of his rare ones, the kind that you saw when he was passing by bookstores and talking about certain people in his life that he never wanted to name. It felt special that he gifted one of those to you, in an intimate moment like this.

"Are you inferring that you're near the top of that list?"

You finally stood up, giving a moment for your body to adjust to standing. The bench was your friend for a little too long, leaving your legs to feel like pins and needles.

"I would say so. Do you want to test that? I know a good bar around here, although I probably wouldn't recommend drinking so much since you just ate."

"How'd you know that I had dinner?"

Dazai gave a cat-like grin as took the whiskey bottle from your hand, putting it back into his coat. It was almost empty, but no point in questioning him.

"Kunikida would try to do something perfect for you. You would expect that, and he has it written in his book."

Reaching for your hand, he pulled you along, taking you to wherever he had decided. Foolishly you let him do as he pleased. An excited and lazy smile pulled along your face.

"I'll bet that you're perfectly fine to fall in love with Dazai. If you think I am, at least."

You followed his footsteps perfectly, your shadows intertwined with one another from the dim streetlights.

sorry that this took so long LOL. also im gonna write another part to this cause someone requested it but like ALT, idk when that will be posted tho cause I have summer classes cause im a dummy dum :(

[unforth]

Trick or treat!! What do you think about some Wen Ning and Wen Qing sibling bonding 🥺 as a treat 🥺

"So, are you ready to go trick-or-treating?" asked Wen Qing.

Startled, Wen Ning looked up, long strands of intentionally dirtied hair falling into his face. A Yuan had been...enthusiastic...about Wen Ning's zombie costume, and determined not to let his nephew down, Wen Ning had gone all in on makeup and tattered clothing, and had made himself filthy with some mud from a ditch near the apartment. But...

"We're done already?" he said hesitantly, gesturing toward where A Yuan had fallen asleep on the couch with his head in Granny's lap as she knit, the only sound the clink-clink-clink of her knitting needles. They'd gone all up and down the street, asking in every restaurant and shop, and had gotten a decent stash. A Yuan had been his usual sunny, cheery self, charming every owner into exclamations of "hen keai!!!" with his radish costume. It'd been fun. But now it was over. And that was fine.

"Not for him," said Wen Qing, rolling her eyes. The white contact lenses she wore for her jiangshi costume gave it an eerie effect. "For you."

"Me?" Wen Ning blinked at her.

"Yes, you." She pinned him with a pointed finger capped with a pointed stick-on nail.

"But I'm 16..."

"Oh, yes, definitely too old to go trick-or-treating." She rolled her eyes again, and Wen Ning was glad that even if the warmth in his cheeks meant a flush, his costume muck would hide it. "Seriously, didi," she continued more gently, "you deserve to get to act like a kid sometimes too. A Yuan is fine here with Granny" - Granny nodded her agreement with a faint hum - "and we never get to spend any time together. Go trick-or-treating with me?"

Despite the instincts telling him he should decline, Wen Ning couldn't help but break into a smile, and Wen Qing beamed in response. "Oh...okay," he mumbled.

"We'll be back," Wen Qing said to Granny. "Text if you need anything." She gave them a dismissive wave. They all knew she didn't know how to text. "Let's do this, bro."

And, vampire-in-zombie hand, they headed out to make the rounds. Wen Ning wasn't sure they'd be able to get any candy, but it was okay. An evening, just his sister and he, was precious time to be cherished even if they did nothing at all.

[stayandot8]

Day One

Genre: fluff

Relationship type: idol!Chan x actress!reader, best friends

Important Contents: a continuation of an ask someone made in my inbox. I hope you enjoy it the second time around as much as the first.

WC: 1.1k

Part One l masterlist

Chan: If you’re going to drag me to a promo shoot on my day off, the least you can do is feed me.

Me: Straight through the gray doors and take a right. Snack table should be easy to spot. 

“That’s great, you two!” “Just move your arm closer to her- yes, that’s it!” 

This cameraman was going to drive me bananas. 

My poor co-star had been running late, like the true actor he was. He showed up very apologetic though, so it was hard to be upset when I had nothing else to do that day. So I chatted up the cameraman, which had been my first mistake. He was indeed a very chatty man, talking about nothing but his work and how he had done this huge magazine with idols left and right, how he’d had their phone numbers before they left. I almost scoffed. I had eight of them in my contact list and that was enough for me. They were annoying enough as it was. 

Now, my co-star and I were standing in front of a screen, meant to be in place of a rooftop and so close to kissing, yet not quite. His hands were around me, almost touching my shoulders to hold me close, my dress bunching up with how close he was indeed holding onto me. I thought I might fall over. 

Out of the corner of my eye, I glimpsed a door open and close and true to his text, Chris idled closer to the snack table until he found something he took. I fought from rolling my eyes. He stayed near the back and watched, staring not at me, but at the man holding me or trying to. His brows were close together in a permanent state of what seemed to be confusion and disgust. His lips were slightly pursed, further my assumption. 

After more flashes of the camera, the man behind it called for a short break to look over some of the shots and change lenses. I scurried over to Chan, who was still watching my co-star, even as I stood right in front of him. I looked back to make sure he wasn’t doing anything wild, but he wasn’t. He was just standing there, talking to his manager. I turned back to Chris and snapped my fingers in front of his face. He broke from his trance and looked me up and down, assessing what to make fun of first. 

“For a 90s show, the wardrobe is surprisingly modern.” 

“This dress actually came from a shop that sells these kinds of clothes, alright? I’m not complaining though. It's the most comfortable costume I’ve had. You remember those bunny costumes from that kids show, don’t you?” We both shuddered at the memory. Chris looked back over my shoulder. I rolled my eyes. “Oh, would you stop? He’s harmless. In fact, I think he has a wonderful boyfriend that you might know actually. I think he’s an idol.” 

“I don’t like how close he was to you.” He crossed his arm in front of him, like he was holding something in. I couldn’t help but laugh.

“It was a kissing scene, Chan. Come on, lighten up.”

“Why does he have to have his hands wrapped around you like that? It doesn’t look natural.”

“Oh yeah? How should he do it then?” My eyebrow rose on its own, challenging him. I didn’t think he’d actually do it, not with so many people around. But he stepped closer, brushing his arms underneath mine to guide them around his neck. My hands naturally drove through his hair to find it freshly washed, curling between my fingers. Breathing at all was difficult as he slid those muscled arms around me and for the very first time, I got to see what all of those fans were jealous of. An immediate feeling of comfort washed over me like it never had before. I felt safe when I was so close to him, breathing in his natural smell. It smelled like a memory coming to the surface after being lost for years. His hands on my back were like fire, seeping through my costume and straight to my insides and melting them. I felt every inch of where we were connected. He stepped even further into me, bringing his mouth closer to mine. 

“He should hold you like he’s scared to lose you. Like you are everything that could ever matter to him. He should look into your eyes and see everything he could ever want, standing right in front of him, within his grasp.” The words had a sort of other heaviness to them, like he was carefully weighing them to determine if they were accurate. Like they were the right ones he wanted to say, but sounding almost rehearsed at the same time. He had said these before somewhere. But the rawness was still fresh, honed like a sword. His voice got lower and lower and his mouth got closer and closer to mine, our breath mingling in the centimeters of space between us. I couldn't look at anything other than his lips, how full and soft they would feel on my mouth… my neck… my-

I had to know. So I closed the distance. And it was everything I thought it would be. For the five seconds I had been imagining it. But what I didn’t expect was for him to kiss me back. His hand moved to cradle my face as our lips moved in tandem, like they had been meant for each other all along. Like he’d been practicing for this moment in his own mind, biding his time, waiting for me to come around. 

When he broke us apart, he kept his arms around me, giving me room to breathe. He took a second to reel himself in, panting like he’d just run a marathon. 

“As much as I would like to do that again, and trust me, I would.” I pointedly looked him in the eyes. “I unfortunately have a shoot to get back to. And you have just made it very difficult to focus.” He let his arms fall, a smirk growing. 

“Then I should go so you can focus. Since I’m such a distraction for you.” I gave him a wary look, then shooed him away. “But we’ll talk? Later?” All amusement was now gone from him, hope shining brightly in those eyes.

“Definitely.”  

He nodded, giving me a signature grin and turned on his heel, grabbing an apple from the table of food and leaning his shoulder down to push the door into the hall. 

This is going to be fun. I smiled to myself, seeing my phone light up on the table behind me.

Chan: I’m getting something special for tonight so you’re coming over. 

Chan: I’m calling it our Day One date. :)  

[dominimoonbeam]

Holding Out for a Hero - 3

The Dashlin bodyguard AU continues!!

david/asher/darlin with some brewing milo/sh on the side.

tags: idiots in love, getting together, divorced darlin, abusive past relationship, lots of feelings brewing in this fic

Holding Out for a Hero - 3

The living room was a jungle of clothing racks, boxes, and tissue paper.

Asher had a pair of Gucci sunglasses on that Darlin had settled on his face twenty minutes ago. He couldn’t help but wonder, if he didn’t take them off himself, if Darlin would come back for them. They’d had a lighthearted smile when they came up to him with them and held his gaze like they were cohorts when they gently placed them on his face. They’d flashed a full smile when they were in place, like he looked correctly silly in the outrageous frames.

He didn’t want to know how much they cost.

“No!” Sweets snapped, just shy of stomping a foot. “Those are out! Forget them, Milo!”

Milo raised one eyebrow at the publicist. “I’m sorry, who the fuck are you? Since when do you pick out what he wears?”

“You know I get to veto things!”

“You get five vetoes a year. Is this one of them, Sweetheart?”

“Fuck you! I get as many as I need to keep you from making a disaster out of things!”

Darlin picked through the racks with passing interest, as though the sound of these two raging against each other was the forgettable hushed music in a shop.

David lounged in a chair between the stylist and publicist, picking at a bass. He noticed Asher, eyes narrowing on his sunglasses but fingers still strumming.

“We are not changing outfits between every interview! Pick one outfit, Milo, and try to keep it casual.”

“Casual?” he spat the word.

Darlin smirked, unzipping the bag on a leather jacket and reaching in to pass their hand over it.

Asher caught the way David’s eye followed that movement, fingers slowing to a near stop on the strings.

Darlin hummed pleasantly at whatever they’d found and then moved on to further exploration.

It was all clearly a routine the four had done many times before.

Asher couldn’t decide where to settle his focus. The two arguing were a show, sure, but his gaze was constantly divided between Darlin and David. David was watching Darlin now and Asher was pretty sure Darlin knew it but was pretending not to. They did that a lot—pretended not to notice.

Darlin’s phone rang. They tensed for a split second before looking at it and swiping to answer. They turned away from the scene and walked toward the hall and their office.

When Milo and Sweets finally agreed on an outfit for the interviews, not even starting on the actual tour, they shook on it.

“I’m not wearing that,” David chimed in, once peace had been brokered, like dropping a grenade on the table and blowing the whole thing to shit.

He got up, putting the bass down in his place like maybe they’d mistake it for him.

He walked around the racks, plucking free the things Darlin had paused over, the ones they’d touched, that jacket they’d hummed softly for. He tossed them onto the couch. “This.”

Sweets stepped closer, arms folded tightly and body rigid. It was like good posture was holding them hostage.

Milo clucked at David and stepped up to the mess, picking through the items and laying them out in some order. He scrutinized them even though every piece of clothing there had been brought in by him, and had presumably been picked out by him. David paused again to look at Asher. An almost-smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. “Want to help with the barbeque?”

“David, you have to try this stuff on,” Milo started, his tone suddenly more reasonable.

“Why? You know what fits me. I haven’t changed.”

Asher pushed off the wall and joined David, following him toward the backyard.

“Hey!” Milo snapped, holding out his hand toward Asher.  “Security doesn’t get Gucci!”

Asher blinked through tinted lenses and then smiled, reaching up to take them off. So much for his plan.

David caught his wrist, stopping his hand before he could reach the sunglasses. “Leave them.”

Milo’s expression softened, surprise and something else on his face when he blinked at David in question.

David shrugged. “It’s sunny out back. Have a heart.” He let go of Asher’s wrist and headed toward the sliding backdoors.

Asher waited, the warmth of David’s hand still on his wrist. Had he ever touched him before? No. Definitely not. Milo turned that surprised expression to Asher and then looked him over like he hadn’t really before. Maybe he hadn’t. His smile was curious but not unfriendly. He shrugged. “They look good on you.”

Asher smiled, not sure if he was being honest or nice now. He saluted and walked away, following David through the door he’d left open and gently sliding it shut behind him.

The backyard was big, with a bright blue pool, a round jacuzzi built into the far side, perfectly landscaped lawn and tall bushes along the back fence. Close to the house was a little kitchen of sorts with a cover, a fridge for beer, and a counterspace beside the grill. It could easily become a bar if they threw a party out there, but Asher doubted they would. There was something about this place that told him David didn’t like bringing his public life home.

David rolled back the lid on the grill. The air rippled heat and he grunted approval before turning his attention on the stacks of marinated meat beside the bags of chips, dips, and veggies they’d put down just before being wrangled into the clothing jungle.

“So…” Asher started unpacking the paper bags. He made it look helpful but really he was looking for the box of cookies he snuck into the cart. “Those two are…”

David snorted, the first piece of meat sizzling when it hit the grill. “A lot.”

Asher nodded. “Are they exes?”

David jerked, looking at him in surprise. “What? No.”

“Oh. So that’s all just built-up tension? Damn…”

“Tension? They hate each other.”

Asher laughed, finding the cookies and ripping the plastic open. “Um, no? They obviously like each other.”

David rolled his eyes. “This isn’t elementary school. If they liked each other, they’d just say so.”

“Because if you liked someone, you would say it, right?” Asher smirked, jumping up to sit on the counter and cramming a cookie in his mouth.

David looked at him, surprised and a little taken aback. “Well, I wouldn’t yell at them and call them a bunch of names.”

Asher had a second cookie in hand. He paused, raising an eyebrow and swallowing down the first. “You wouldn’t?” He pouted. “And all this time I thought you were flirting with me…”

David rolled his eyes, but Asher caught the smirk and the blush before the big guy turned toward the grill again.

Asher ate another cookie, watching him from the side.

“So, you think they like each other? Like… that way?”

Asher nodded. “Definitely,” he said around cookie number three.

David moved fast, suddenly in front of him and snatching the bag out of his hands.

Asher blinked.

David growled, tossing the cookies back into one of the paper shopping bags. “No more before dinner.”

Asher chewed and swallowed. “Yes, sir,” he dragged the words with a purr.

David turned red and slid back to the grill, picking up the tongs and clicking them.

“So, just so I know, how do you flirt?” Asher asked. It was bold. He was a bold sort of person though. He’d never flirting with anyone he worked for before, not really. The way he flirted with David was still in that gray zone of funny and never in public where anyone might overhear and spin it into a story. He didn’t usually let things get this unprofessional. It was just that David seemed so much more comfortable the more unprofessional Asher behaved, and Darlin didn’t seem to care.

David poked the grill, big shoulders shrugging. “I don’t.”

Asher laughed, opening a bag of chips. “Bullshit.”

David side-eyed him.

Asher wondered if this was his flirting and defiantly chomped a chip. “Do you want to make a bet?”

“A bet about what?”

Asher nudged his chin toward the house. “The stylist and the publicist.”

David smiled. “We’ll have to set a date or it’ll go on forever, you know, since they hate each other and aren’t going to get together.”

Asher snorted. “This tour, then. If they hook up, I win. If they don’t, you win.”

David hummed. “No interfering?”

Asher gasped, offended by the idea. “Absolutely not.” And it really wasn’t necessarily. He wouldn’t be surprised if those two snapped and jumped each other any second now.

David nodded, flipping a piece of meat. “What do I win?”

Asher smiled. “What do you want?”

 -

 When Darlin came back out to the living room, David and Asher had run off, leaving Sweets and Milo to argue about a pair of pants. Darlin had never entirely understood how they could argue this much about clothes, but then again, one gray shirt looked like any other gray shirt to them.

They passed by close enough to get a look at the outfit on the couch. “I like that jacket,” they chimed in, pleased to see it in the mix. It was so soft and it would look amazing on David. But, really, everything looked great on David. His favorite band shirts were threadbare and they looked amazing on him. Darlin had borrowed them now and then but they never looked as good on them as they had on David.

They ducked into the kitchen for a water and spotted Asher and David out back.

Asher was on the counter, talking to David.

And David was at the grill, smiling.

He’d smiled more this week than he had all year.

David put down the tongs and tried to snatch up the bag of chips on the counter. Asher got them first, peeling a laugh Darlin couldn’t hear from inside. David lunged for him and the bodyguard rolled off the counter and out of reach. He crammed more chips into his mouth even as he laughed, running away with the bag when David chased him.

Sweets entered the tablo to take up position at the grill. Darlin hadn’t even noticed the living room going quiet, let alone them stepping outside.

“What are you doing?” Milo asked softly beside them in the kitchen.

David and Asher were laughing. David trying to corner him to get the chips.

“What do you mean?” Darlin asked.

Milo sighed and leaned into the counter beside them. “Have you talked to him?”

“About what?”

“Knock it off.”

Darlin turned their gaze on him. “I am not the publicist, Milo,” they warned.

He stood a little straighter, but didn’t back down. “I’ve known you for years. You two like each other. Fuck, you love each other.”

“It’s not like that,” they said and it came out more defensive than they’d want to admit.

“I’m not a reporter,” he whispered back harshly, offense clear in his voice and his eyes.

Darlin dragged a breath. “I know.” They sighed and stepped back. “But we’re not… We’ve never.”

“I know,” he continued. “But what I don’t get is why you’ve never. And now you’ve got this bodyguard here and David is… I don’t know… but you don’t seem as broken up about David getting close with this guy as I thought you would be…”

Darlin laughed a little, nodding as they understood how confusing it had to look from Milo’s perspective. To be fair, he’d been a good friend through the whole uproar last year. He’d never asked either of them if the rumors were true but he’d always been there. He’d never liked Quinn, but he also hadn’t rubbed that in. “Maybe I’m happy for David possibly having feelings for the bodyguard because I don’t have those sorts of feelings for him?” They said it like a joke but it tasted bad even in that tone. They were happy David liked Asher, however he might like him, but it didn’t mean they loved him any less or in any other way but completely.

Milo studied them and Darlin tried to stand tall for it. He shook his head slowly, something sad in his eyes. “That’s not it.”

Darlin laughed and started to turn, to wave him off and end this conversation.

Milo caught their hand and held it, squeezing gently.

Darlin blinked. He didn’t usually touch them.

“Are you okay?” he asked with so much sincerity that Darlin actually took an internal account of themself in response. Were they okay?

They squeezed his hand back. “Yes. Better than I have been in a while.”

Milo visibly relaxed. “Why the bodyguard?”

Darlin shrugged.

The tension in Milo returned. “Is someone threatening him?”

Darlin shook their head. “No more than the usual shit. I’d just feel better with some security, you know? Most people have a guard and with his popularity skyrocketing the last couple years…”

Milo nodded but was still scrutinizing them. Quiet stretched between them again but he hadn’t let go of their hand and they hadn’t taken it back. “Is he giving you trouble again?” he asked quietly, like he had to pry the words up from his teeth.

Darlin blinked, for a split second not realizing who he meant. Who else could he mean? “No,” it wasn’t exactly a lie.

Milo didn’t swallow it whole though. “You don’t…” he started and then stopped, seeming to not have the words he wanted. He winced and looked down. “I’m sorry I never said anything before. I knew he was an asshole but I never thought…”

Darlin winced but nodded. “Forget it.”

His gaze snapped up to theirs. “I’m gong to say some shit I know you won’t want to hear,” Milo said quickly, voice still blessedly low, like he knew to gentle the impact. “None of that was your fault. You didn’t wrong David by bringing Quinn in. David doesn’t think that, and you know it.” Their hand jerked in his, body physically wanting to recoil, but he hung on this time and held their gaze. “You deserve to be happy, just like everyone else.”

“Fuuuuck,” Darlin stared at him like he’d just cursed them.

The sliding door opened and Asher stepped in, not stopping like he was surprised to see them there but like that was exactly why he’d opened the door. He didn’t lean against the frame or blink innocently at them like usual either. He suddenly looked his full height, out of place sunglasses still in place.

Milo let go of Darlin’s hand.

“Everything okay?” Asher asked.

Darlin was surprised to realize he was asking them specifically, not Milo.

It felt like they had to reboot their brain to get their expression right again, hating the glassy sheen to their eyes. Milo hadn’t looked back at Asher. He knew what he’d done and he was watching Darlin to make sure those words drove home. Fucking knives, those words. “Yep,” Darlin tapped Milo’s shoulder and led the way toward Asher and the backyard. “I’m starving.”

Asher stepped to the side but still looked…focused. Darlin hadn’t expected that. Oh, they’d known he’d be able to do his job and absolutely trusted him to protect David, but what was this about? They stopped in front of him while Milo marched out, almost immediately starting an argument with Sweets about the grill.

Darlin reached up and gently took hold of the sunglasses on Asher. He blinked back at them through the tinted glass. They carefully took them off his face, this time noticing the way he held his breath when they did, his eyes always on them. “You’re hard to read,” Darlin said, flipping the glasses around and putting them on themself.

Asher blinked, stance relaxing into a lean against the doorframe at last. “Am I?” he sounded hopeful. It was very disarming.

“Mmhm… You have a way about flirting with people that feels very genuine. You might break hearts on accident if you’re not careful.”

Asher stared back at them for another beat. “I don’t flirt when I don’t mean it and I wouldn’t break a heart.”

Darlin stared back at him, not quite sure what to make of that. He had seemed to be flirting with David and then, sometimes, they thought he was flirting with them too. It had to be just his way.

Asher grinned, full charm. “At least, I wouldn’t break your heart.”

Darlin laughed, nudged his shoulder, and marched out through the back door onto the patio. “Flirt,” they muttered, like he’d made their point. But their heart beat faster, because he’d just said he didn’t flirt when he didn’t mean it, hadn’t he?

[milkywaygg]

The Cosmas REWRITE (Chapter 1)

Disclaimer: The FOP, its content, and most of it's characters belong to Butch Hartman. I do not claim ownership of the show or intend to use it for monetary purposes. The is purely fan work.

“GET OUT OF HERE YOU WORTHLESS PIECE OF SHIT! AND DON’T YOU DARE LET ME CATCH YOUR STUPID, PATHETIC ASS BACK IN THIS HOUSEHOLD!’

Nora Cosma’s mother’s words echoed in her head as she rushed down the blizzarding, December streets as the wind rushed harshly down her cheeks. Trying to keep the tears from spilling, Nora reached out of her letterman jacket’s pocket and grabber her phone out, frantically texting her boyfriend as she sought temporary shelter.

Arthur, are you awake??? Having an emergency right now.

Hoping to receive an answer within a few moments, Nora felt floating until she left her neighborhood and crossed the street onto a city center, where several café’s illuminated the streets. Though most of the shops were either closed or beginning to close down, Nora was thankful that the one closest to her block, After-Stars, stayed open until 3 AM most nights. Walking inside, she took a seat in a booth with velvet, purple seats, longing for food as this was the 3rd night in a row she was deprived dinner, before settling for a cup of black coffee, unable to eat.

She took out her phone once more in hopes to get a response, but was disappointed to find nothing other than a text from her mother, sending her a picture of the last family photo they had taken before her father, Warner, had passed in a magic accident that Nora was somewhat involved in. Ever since then, her mother, Mary, had somehow transformed from the person Nora wanted to be like most, into an empty shell of a woman, so pathetic that she was almost solely dependent on beer bottles to even get out of bed in the morning.

 Most days, Mary wasn’t so intolerable. She’d often hide herself in her room while Nora was at school, and would sometimes cry as he looked through Warner’s things and photos. Some nights however, much like tonight, it seemed as if all the alcohol rushed through her body as she lost control, screaming and cursing as Nora had to dodge her attacks, only succeeding sometimes.

Fifteen minutes flew by as she sipped on her black coffee, not even a typing bubble from Arthur on Nora’s message. Sighing, she dialed his number and held it up to her ear, barely getting by 3 rings before the automated voice told her to try again later. In a failed attempt to keep all her emotions bottled up, she couldn’t help but let out a small whimper as small tears fell on her face.

“Excuse me? Nora?”, a soft, male voice asked, making Nora jump slightly. She quickly wiped her face and looked up to see a green-haired boy holding a few Child Development and Psychology textbooks stand near her table, his matching eyes looking down at her with a sorrowful expression. He also wore thin, square-lensed glasses, and the green sweater and tight black jean-pants outfit helped Nora identify Linnie Clearwater, one of her classmates in Advanced Literature. He smiled gently as he held a comforting hand out, only drawing back as he saw Nora’s shoulders square up and her body push itself somewhat backwards.

“Um…I-I just couldn’t help but notice you here by yourself. I-Do you mind if I sat with you? O-Of course if not, that’s fine I mean. I’m sorry, Nora. I know I shouldn’t be disturbing you like this.”, Linnie stuttered softly as he twiddled his fingers nervously, “I-I just…I’m sorry dear. I just wanted to see if you were ok.”

“I-I don’t give a damn.”, Nora sniffed, after one last call to her boyfriend failed once more, this time barely past the second ring. “Not like anyone does these days.”

“Well…do you want to talk about it? Maybe I can help..”

“Help? There’s not jack shit you could do for me!’, Nora snapped, earning a squeak from Linnie. Seeing his cower back a bit however, Nora sighed slightly, “Look, I’m…well I appreciate what you’re trying to do, but you’re not who I was hoping for tonight. Quite frankly, I’m surprised you’re even here at all. I mean, this doesn’t seem like your kind of place.”

“Well, I don’t come often.”, Linnie smiled slightly, “I didn’t get any babysitting calls tonight sadly, so I’m only here to catch up on some homework and have some coffee as a treat haha. I’ve had a bit of a rough day myself.”

“What happened to you?”

“The little girl I mentor in my child development class accidentally shrunk me with Mr. Langston’s wand. You know how he’s always losing things. A-and right before he turned me back, I got cornered by the big roach.”

“And you’re still taking that class? I would’ve beat that child’s ass and gotten kicked out.”

“O-Oh goodness no! Why would you say something like that?”, Linnie squirmed, frowning deeply at Nora. Nora shrugged.

“I mean if I was acting a fool, that’s what my folks did to me, and I turned out fine.”

“Well I personally don’t see what that solves. That just makes the poor dear afraid of you.”

“Well if I recall, I don’t remember asking you.”, Nora snapped, taking another sip of her drink, “Listen Linnie, I know you’re just looking out for other people but I really would rather be alone right now.”

“Well..alright then, but can I ask what’s wrong first.”

“It’s not really any of your business is it?”

“Of course not, but I-I don’t know. I’m sorry. It just seemed like you needed some help.”, Linnie shuffled through his lime binder and grabbed out a pencil and sticky note, making Nora raise an eyebrow. Didn’t I tell this bitch I wanted to be alone? So why the fuck is he trying to study here right now? Upon future inspection however, Nora saw Linnie write his name and a collection of numbers on the sticky note.

“Here, for whenever you’d like to talk. I-I’m so sorry to have disturbed you tonight, but I just want you to know that I’m here if you need anything.”

“Yeah yeah..”, Nora mumbled as she took the note while Linnie got up from his seat, collecting his textbooks. After Linnie had waved goodbye to Nora for the evening, she saw a small, blue glow in the corner of her eye; Arthur’s name finally appearing at the top of her phone screen.

Sorry Nora. Was asleep. U ok?

I wouldn’t have been trying to blow up ur damn phone if I was

Woah, someone’s in the mood tonight. Where are u? Are u home?

I’ll explain in the morning. Right now, I just need a place to crash.

Right now.

No, in like 10,000 fucking years, Sherlock. Yes, now. Would your folks mind if I spent the night?

Well, they’re asleep right now so I dunno if they’ll know you’re here, but they are pretty light sleepers. Wouldn’t want to disturb them.

Trust me, I’ll be quiet. It’ll be fine. I’ll just leave extra early for school in the morning or some shit.

Once again, Nora felt the lingering delay of Arthur’s text, except the response bubble would occasionally pop up. Nora felt her heart race every time she saw it, but disappeared after two minutes. Finally, tired of the waiting game, she sent another message.

Please Arthur? I don’t have anywhere to go tonight and I’m struggling, bad. I wouldn’t be asking this of you if it wasn’t important.

You know what, sure. How long until you get here?

Prob about 15 minutes. Damn, I wish I would have paid more attention in teleportation. Wouldn’t been useful right about now.

Hehe well..gives me a chance to straighten up. See you in a few then.

Nora tossed back on her leather man jacket and pocketed her phone, making the way towards Arthur’s house past the city center, and into one of the neighboring areas. Though not by much, Arthur’s subdivision was nicer than Nora’s; litter didn’t plague the sidewalks like her street and the houses seemed slightly better kept. Finally, towards the end of the street, Arthur’s double-floored house stood cozily in front of Nora; the navy-blue roof complimenting the matching door and white walls alongside the neatly trimmed yard. Hoping that Arthur was wise enough to unlock the door for her, Nora jiggled the brass doorknob before entering the house, closing it gently behind them as the darkness engulfed her. She slowly made her way up the stairs, drowning Arthur’s parents’ snoring as she found his room, barely able to see.

At long last, Nora felt her eyes get heavier and heavier as a bed was closer in the reach. Finally allowing her eyes to shut, she threw off her letterman jacket and blue jeans off to the side; throwing them onto a pair of pink, women’s underwear with the name, Willow, written on the back.

[starbug-space]

Doorstep AU short porn

Dude I woke up at like 1 am to a Future Mikey x trans masc! Reader x Current Mikey (Angelo) AU thing my friend wrote and my fucking god it kept me awake thinking about it SO THROWING IN MY OWN SPICE

-All characters are over the age of 25 in all my writing unless stated otherwise!

-Would also like to note that, to me, while essentially being the same person Mikey and Angelo have lived VERY VERY different lives, and thus have become very different people. So. Take that however you will.

TW: food play, dom/sub themes, self-cest, threesome, semi-public sex

You were both in so much trouble. Mikey had yet to forgive you fully for the prank you pulled at his expense, so he had sent you shopping. The list was long, with odd items like "2 apples. 1 cucumber. 1 lolipop." And so on.

The items ranged from as small as a pack of gum to as big as a grapefruit. And he had given one direction: steal as much of it as you can. But not in your clothes. And he did make you wear layers, it was cold outside afterall, he had said. So you and Angelo, sporting winter layers, masks and glasses, weird shopping list in hand, headed out to the closest corner store. And though he had been intentionally vague, the cum Angelo was told to hold inside "for lube", and the rule that he was Not allowed to drop, had made everything crystal clear.

Both of you were admittedly antsy when you started picking through the shelves of the empty store, the night shift cashier seeming adamant on ignoring you until he didn't have to. So with a few of the list items in hand and a near diabolical grin you turned to Angelo.

You tried to shush him, being as gentle as you could be while also being quick and stealthy, but god he always got so damn /loud/ and the slick dripping down his thighs wasn't helping. You had to play it cool when the apple finally popped passed his entrance, making Angelo sob and the cashier turn your way, coughing into your unoccupied hand. Then it was your turn, the lustful grin Angelo graced you with mirroring what yours had been, and made your legs shake in anticipation.

His perverse huffing, fogged glasses and flushed cheeks made it somehow worse. Lucky for you, you were quieter than Angelo, but at a cost when he started picking the oddly shaped items off the list to stuff you with, trying to squeeze a squeal from your tightly clenched jaw. The bastard even went so far as to brush his fingers up and down your dick "accidentally" in hopes of breaking your resolve.

By the time you both ambled up to the cashier- bounty of whatever items you couldn't inside fit in arm instead- you both had to lean into eachother for support. The mask/glasses combo hid your wanton expressions but not the fogged lenses, shaken voices, unsteady limbs, and the flush trailing down your neck. The amount of fake coughing you both did to hide the sound of wet squelching from each step definitely didn't help, with the cashier pumping an egregious amount of hand sanitizer into his palm after you both paid and turned to leave.

The walk home was the worst (best) part, hand in hand, leaning into eachother, panting heavy with every step as it jostled everything inside you both. Suddenly Angelo stops, forcing you to as well, and his tearful eyes flick to your face as he whispers in shame. The apple had slipped out, now seated at his entrance, grinding against his tail from inside his tight shorts. You pull him into the next alley. Move so you are hidden behind a dumpster, grocery bags set in a clean-ish spot, and shove him a little too roughly against the wall.

You devour him, ripping both of your masks off to press your mouth to his. Both of your moans are muffled as you kiss each other beyond stupid, hand shoved down the front of his pants to play with his blown out hole, pressing the apple in widest part first this time, until it slides back inside with another slick pop. Just from the way Angelo cries and bites your bottom lip you can tell he came. But you weren't far behind, his thigh pressed between your legs to grind on. And when you do, to your horror and Angelo's excitement, one of the clementines is pushed out. He makes a perky noise passed the fog of euphoria, hands eagerly sliding passed your own waistband. ~

Neither of you know how long you spend in that alley, grinding, swiring tongues and pumping hands, but by the time you both hobbled out the shopping bags were significantly lighter, items shoved in to keep the rest of the the items from slipping out on that last stretch of the walk home.

Mikey, at your return, was quite pleased despite your shared worry over taking too long, and thus extending the punishment. He had you both "unpack" each other over the kitchen counter for him, sliding items one after the other first out of Angelo. His swollen cock dropped with force as you pulled the last item from his gaping tail, him biting his tongue on an eager whimper as it freely twitched in the open air. Felt the brush of your fingers.

Copious amounts of cum was left to drip over the counters edge, coating each item pulled from his tail... it make you squirm in anticipation. This marked the end of Angelo's punishment...but just the half of yours. He had been just an accessory to your crimes, after all. Justice must be served fairly. It was your turn to sit on the counter and Angelo moved to the floor between your splayed legs dutifully to "unpack". He wasn't allowed to clear off the counter first, forcing you to sit exactly where he had sat before, the pools of his cum sticking your skin to the counter top, coating your ass and thighs in a thick sheen when you spread them.

His throat bobbed in a heavy swallow as you opened yourself up for him, and, after chancing a final glance over at a supervising Mikey, slid his fingers into your own stretched out hole for the first item that was already crowning.

Mikey surveyed the items that came out of you both from the other counter across the way, crossing things off the receipt with such amusement and satisfaction in his eyes that it almost made you hopeful this could be the last of /your/ punishments as well. When that last item slips from you Mikey claps, honest to Supreme, /claps/ at the feat of how well you both did. He honestly didn't expect you both to fit so much inside eachother. And now that you were properly prepped, Angelo could join Mikey is the last half of your punishment, if he wasn't too overstimulated.

From the way Angelo's cock hung so heavy between his legs you mentally braced yourself for a long, hard night.

~

Mikey considered himself a very lenient lover. He let you and Angelo get away with many things; mostly because he genuinely didn't mind. That, and when you both got an idea into your cute little heads it was almost impossible to stop the snowball without jumping into its direct path. And often. In its direct path he was. If not it's target. But this time you had taken the pranks too far, dragging Angelo down with you, and making Mikey actually -genuinely- irritated with you. Which was an odd feeling, after years of begging any god that would listen for even just one more glimpse of your smiling face.

He wasn't the type to snap often, oh no, he was meticulous and calculating in his revenge- something he had picked up from two of his elder brothers- and he had planned out every detail of how he would get both of you back. The first session had not been part of his punishment plan, but catching you both red handed had sparked a rare fire in him. He felt like being cruel. And he had used his chains to do so. The rest of the week followed with regularly scheduled punishment sessions, with a day or two between to give his cute lovers time to recuperate before he moved on to the next fun idea he had.

This was supposed to mark the end of the punishment week, at least for Angelo who had more than learned his lesson at this point. For you he had a few more ideas he needed to plan out. But this one he had been waiting all week for, and the wait had been /oh so/ worth it.

He had waited impatiently for both of you to return from the store, left pacing in the living room, and was down right giddy when you had stumbled passed the threshold on jelly legs, breathing heavy. He schooled his expression well, watching with well hidden fever as you pulled item after item out of a squeaky and sobbing Angelo.

It was a little odd to feel so turned on from watching a slightly younger version of himself be used like a grocery bag, but he wasn't going to dwell on it too much. Especially when Angelo's gaping entrance tries to clench on nothing as they make eye contact.

/Damn/ that was cute.

He holds back his praises until the end, as badly as he wanted to show how impressed he was. You really stuffed each other as full as you could. For him. Because he said to. That alone could could get his tail throbbing. After all, either of you could have said no and walked away whenever you'd wanted. But neither of you had.

Then it was your turn, and that, right there- that wanton expression, tinted with shame. It had been exactly what he had wanted to see. The icing on the cake being how much darker you both flushed as he clapped for your performance, saccharin praise dripping from his mouth like the honey trap it was.

But now it was for the /really/ fun part, your limp form easily maneuvered off the counter and onto the floor. Angelo was allowed to help with this punishment, as reward for being such a good boy all week, so he instructs him to lay down first. On his back with you laying over him, back to his chest like a little spoon, both of you looking expectantly up at Mikey.

He decides this is on his list of top 5 favorite positions as he fits himself between your spread legs, feeding Angelo's swollen cock into your loose entrance, it sliding in with unusual ease after all that "shopping".

Hm, Angelo had stretched you out very well for them. Mikey would have to reward him for that later, his fingers pressing over the base Angelos cock in thought, making the younger keen and buck up into you. That would have to wait, however.

With a groan and a chuckle Mikey lets himself drop, his own cock slapping out onto your bare stomach, an almost mirror of Angelos cock, though somehow a little sharper, a little longer. Thumbs move to press and rub into your plush thighs before ordering Angelo to replace Mikeys hands with his own, and keep your legs up and open, which Angelo does without a word.

Then he's lining himself up and pushing inside. Even with all that prep it's a tight stretch, but your wails of pleasure leave no room for him to worry. On the contrary, they only make him work into you harder, using your stuffed cunt to pleasure himself - and Angelo- paying your own pleasure little mind in the moment.

Not that it mattered when you were already cumming again.

[kitcat992]

Identity Within︱Chapter 6 - Something New (UPDATE PREVIEW)

Identity Within

New York always had a certain…well, vibe to it during the autumn season.

Every year come November, the trees that lined the streets of the city were consumed in whole by vivid reds and burnt oranges, replacing the once lush canopy of green seemingly overnight. With it, the crisp air that came with each breeze was a pleasant but firm reminder that the unforgiving cold of winter was right around the corner — a subtle sign from mother nature to enjoy the metamorphosis of seasons before the cityscape would transform once again.

Peter paced back and forth, repeatedly crossing the length of the rooftop to Grimaldi’s Pizza Parlor — not because the brisk autumn wind had made him chilly. No, his spider-suit — brand new, at that — did a fine job of keeping his body temperature perfectly regulated.

It wasn’t the chill that kept him moving, rather a poor attempt at shaking off his nerves. In fact, it was a feat he hadn’t left groove marks across the rooftop yet. At this point, he could’ve very well walked a few miles just going back and forth, all while soaking up the smells of the pizza dough that came wafting up from the vents of the restaurant down below.

“Alright, you got this — you totally got this.” Peter clapped his hands together, only to shake them right after — desperate to release the bundle of energy that practically ate him alive. “This is no big deal. Nothing to sweat. C’mon Parker, you rode Captain America’s motorcycle today — you’re Spider-Man, you got this!”

His nerves only seemed to get worse every time he looked across the street; this time turning his gaze right as the lights inside Peter Pan’s Donut Shop shut off, one by one.

Despite the strong draft of wind that passed through the surrounding foliage, Peter couldn’t help but notice that he suddenly felt flushed.

Warm?

Definitely warm.

Maybe his new suit still had some kinks they needed to work out. After all, he’d only had it for a few weeks now. It wasn’t uncommon for the motherboard systems to need the occasional update. Maybe that was the issue.

Or maybe, just maybe, he was more nervous than he wanted to admit.

“Alright — just….don’t over think this. Don’t get stuck in your head.” Peter let out a breath so heavy, most of it couldn't filter out of his mask. The smell struck him at full force, causing the eye lenses of his mask to twitch and spasm in response. “Oh, that’s gross. That’s-that’s bad.”

He really needed to start carrying breath mints on him.

Peter shook away the thought — literally, shaking his arms for the umpteenth time, the little wiggle-wobble he did in place doing absolutely nothing for his nerves.

Across the street and through the windows of the donut shop, Peter could make a middle-aged man working inside, flipping over chairs and stacking them on top of the tables. Not far away from him was a much younger girl, busy wiping down the counters, with half of her face hidden behind long strands of brown hair.

Peter chewed on his lower lip, watching MJ from afar — not once looking away after his eyes gravitated towards her.

Man, was she pretty.

Really pretty.

“Hey MJ, what’s up?” Peter practiced out loud, taking a deep breath in — deep enough to pull his shoulders back and lift his chin high. “It’s me, Peter. Peter Parker.”

Nearing the edge of the rooftop, Peter casually plopped down until his legs hung off the edge,

letting them dangle freely as his gaze fixated on the donut shop across the street. His attention was drawn solely to one person inside.

“What’s that? I have a new suit?” Both hands grazed across his chest, gloved fingers running down the length of the black and red fabric. “Yeah, fully upgraded, new look, all new colors — why am I doing that voice?” Peter stopped the moment he realized his voice had deepened by five octaves. He shook his head like a wet dog. “That voice is so stupid, don’t do that voice.”

For a moment, the only response he received in turn was the occasional sound of Brooklyn traffic from down below.

MJ was talking to the much older gentleman now — with a brown paper bag in one hand, and her book-bag over her other shoulder. Her hair covered half of her face, but Peter could still make out the tiny smile beneath the thick, curly locks.

After all, her smile was his favorite thing about her.

“MJ, hey, it’s me.” Peter swallowed, hard, a tight V forming between his brows beneath his mask. “Oh, this? You know, just patrolling, saving the city, nothing major — I’m still doing the voice!” A hand smacked across his face — covering the two large white eyes of his mask. “Why am I doing that stupid voice!?”

His frustration was shouted in the form of a whisper, barely heard over the breeze that passed by. And yet Peter was still flushed — there was no shaking off the nerves. The past half and hour made that abundantly clear.

“I believe that is because you are nervous, Peter.”

And for what time didn’t make obvious, there was always his AI.

“I’m not nervous!” Peter’s voice squeaked in his retort. He waved both hands out in front of him, dismissively, as if Karen could even seen his movements to begin with. “I’m not — I’m not nervous, I just…” Another deep sigh reminded Peter that he really needed to start carrying around breath mints. “I just don’t know what to say.”

The middle-aged man approached the front door, flipping the sign that once said ‘Open’ and turning it around until it said ‘Closed.’ Peter watched, a tight frown forming on his lips, as the two remaining employees inside got ready to depart.

The setting sun was making it difficult to see inside through the windows. Peter knew he wouldn’t be able to procrastinate much longer.

“That could be because you’re anxiety has made it hard for you to focus,” Karen said. “That is likely in part due to the fact that you are nervous.”

As much as Peter wanted to roll his eyes at Karen’s answer, he also didn’t have much ground to argue with her. She was, after all, usually right about things.

It was strange. There was a lot Peter had confidence for — a lot of things he gained confidence for. It wasn’t that being nervous was a foreign thing for him. Hell, these days it felt like a perpetual state of his existence.

MJ made him feel��different.

A different nervous.

Almost a…good nervous.

“I really don’t wanna mess this up, Karen,” Peter spoke quietly under his breath, both hands falling into his lap as his dangling legs came to a slow stop.

There was a noticeable pause from Karen before she asked, “With MJ?”

The sunset of the evening caught the golden hues from the trees, shinning bright against orange and burgundy leaves. Peter had to squint past the light to see the front door of the donut shop open up, watching silently as the older man let MJ exit before he locked the door behind her.

“Yeah,” Peter, once again, spoke the words in a hushed whisper. The sigh that left his chest was heavier than his own voice.

There had been so much that happened this past year — things that, while not directly his fault, had caused a cascade of problems in their wake. Mysterio getting away in Times Square, everything with Dmitri the wannabe Bond villain, all of the symbiote…

Peter could feel his heart skip a beat at the memories — his very alive, and very much beating heart that was once not beating after he died.

That was never not gunna be weird.

“I believe, Peter,” Karen spoke up, breaking him away from his thoughts,“if you were to mess anything up…it would be deliberately. And I don’t see any reason you’d sabotage yourself when it comes to MJ.”

Peter made a face beneath his mask — contemplation taking over every muscle in his expression, all as he watched MJ give a tiny wave to the man still inside the donut shop. He locked the door from the inside before she began to walk down the streets of the city, and slowly, Peter began to stand up from the edge of the rooftop.

Karen’s voice was the last thing he heard before he shot out a web and took off.

“Just be yourself.”

It took six and a half rooftops before Peter finally caught up with MJ — a lingering moment of hesitation nearly made it seven, but with all the courage he could muster up, he finally made the move to approach her.

A single strand of webbing attached on top the nearest fire escape ladder, allowing him to drop down gracefully into the alleyway, landing with a soft thud on the cement sidewalks.

Right as MJ walked by.

“Need someone to walk you home?” Peter asked, his voice muffled by his mask and three times deeper than average.

MJ spun on her heels to face him.

And screamed.

“AH!”

“Ah!” Peter startled back, stumbling backwards until his shoulder collided with the nearest dumpster behind him. The two lenses of his mask went from wide white to pitch black in a millisecond as he grabbed his arm and hissed, “Ahcck!”

“Ahhh!” MJ’s shrill shout easily reached over his, even as she swung her book-bag around her shoulder and began to frantically dig inside. “I have a taser, I know how to use it!”

“Mother of fudge —!” Peter clenched his shoulder firmly with one hand, squeezing away the pain before both his eyes shot open with realization. “Wait, MJ, it’s me —!”

“Don’t make me use it!” MJ stepped forward while also somehow taking a step back. “I’m not afraid to use it!”

“MJ, MJ!” Peter leaped forward, using one hand to wave in front of him while the other ripped off his mask, clenching it tightly in his grip. “It’s me! It’s Peter! Peter Parker!” he hissed low under his breath, making sure to stay tucked away in the alley as he all but squeaked, “Please don’t tase me!”

If MJ had been sporting a mask like Spider-Man’s, complete with twitchy mechanical lenses, they would’ve certainly shattered with how large her eyes grew, bigger than the setting sun above them both.

Finally, she smacked her hand against his chest — completely ignorant to the brown paper bag she still held in clenched fingers — and pushed him further into the alleyway.

“This — this is why you’re terrible at keeping secrets!” MJ broke free of her stunned trance with four hard steps forward, pushing Peter back the entire way; looking around for the both of them to ensure no one was paying any attention. “This is exactly why Susan Yang thinks you’re a male escort!”

Peter’s nervous laugh quickly became one of incredulity.

“Do you really have a taser?” Peter only stopped walking backwards once MJ came to a stop herself, though her hand stayed firm against the spider emblem on his chest. “Wait, Susan Yang thinks I’m a male escort?”

At first, MJ’s only response was a rapid nod of her head, and a sound that was most certainly supposed to be something coherent and understandable.

“Yeah!” she eventually managed, her throat bobbing hard with the clear struggle of swallowing the abundance of saliva that came with a near heart attack.

Peter’s eyes only narrowed in confusion. “Yeah to what?”

The every day ambience from the city life briefly filled the lull that fell over them, freezing time in a ridiculously exaggerated second — the kind that felt like an eternity being stretched out for dramatic effect. The honking traffic outside the alley seemed to join in on the playful suspense — Peter swore even the cars were holding their breath for who would say what next.

MJ flittered her eyes up and down — looking up at Peter, sans his mask, before her eyes flickered back down — where her fingertips pressed firmly against the black spider insignia center on his chest.

Not a second later, and Peter looked down at that same hand. As if just now realizing MJ was touching him, and had been all along.

“This…must…be…your new suit,” MJ slowly said, tapping his chest twice before finally removing her hand entirely — making sure to keep her grip on the brown lunch bag. “Very nice. The colors are…very new.”

[alovelydesolation]

Near the beginning of this year, I made an interesting discovery at a rural antique shop: an early 20th century glass slide projector. What really caught my eye though was the lens attached to the front of it.

This lens:

This was clearly not the original lens for this projector. It is, in fact a much earlier lens. A large format portrait lens from the mid-1800's. Some research on the internet revealed that it was almost certainly manufactured in between 1848 and 1851 (most likely 1850), but it is hard to find specific records from a 19th century German manufacturer.

That was going to be the end of it; a neat thing I saw in an antique shop, but didn't buy. Then, a strange confluence of events: a close friend who works a a second hand and salvage shop let me know that they'd just received a pair of large format cameras (sans lenses or film holders). And I could have one for the princely sum of $25US.

So I picked one up - a 4x5 view camera with intact bellows and ground glass. So then I need to find a lens for it. Like, I dunno, a mid-19th century portrait lens. So my wonderful partner decides to contact the antique shop to see if the projector is still available, and arranges to buy it.

So now I have a long term project of rehabilitating a large format camera and restoring a very early photographic lens.

The projector turns out not to be in super great condition. It has some neat parts intact, but the bellows and the lamp housing are in pretty rough shape.

The lens has one major modification likely made in the early 20th century (perhaps when it was being mounted to the projector); the original focusing mechanism was disabled and the lens barrel was cut to enable a crude twist-to-focus action. Apart from that, it seems to be in ripe condition for a clean up and restoration.

I've got the glass cleaned up now, and still need to clean up the brass and reassemble it, then figure out how to 3d print some parts to mount the lens to the camera and create a film holder to do some photography with it.

[fuchsiacore8]

Reminiscence

Hiya! I just wrote this quick fic to warm me up for future stories. I hope you'll enjoy it, and don't hesitate to share. Writing is my main passion^^ --- By swiftly unfolding his umbrella under the rainstorm, he breathed slowly, letting the air of this planet filling his lungs as a welcoming embrace. The heaviness of the petrichor tilted his memories onto his tender childhood, where joy and sparkling stories met forevermore. Around him, neons lights shone blindly on his clothes, pearling the few droplets that were managing to get on his suit from the wind.

“Earth didn't change, isn't it?”

A flying bot shaped like a tennis ball emitted a joyous sound, placing itself in front of his owner before turning around itself many times before being caught in its own giddiness. Its owner tenderly secured his bot and placed it in a pocket of his coat, a thin smile drawn on his face.

“I'm happy to be back home too, Hope.”

On those words, the visitor closed the door of his car and crossed the street, tilting his umbrella as so his bot and himself wouldn't be dampen by the angled rain. He kept walking like this until the sign of a camera shop appeared on his filed of vision. It had a neat simplistic logo of a camera snapping a robot in a flash, lighted by an incandescent bulb, flickering dangerously by the force of the wind. He opened the door, shook his umbrella to get rid of the excess of water, then took refuge inside where warmth and dimmed light hailed him silently. A bell rang just above him, but no one responded, so he went down the stairs, feeling the old wooden steps creaking under his feet, the sound resonating in the walls of the basement, and the quieted sound of the rain hitting the door.

Downstairs, a few shelves with many accessories were standing around the room like skyscrapper. Near the cash register, two shelves made of glasses stood at each side, displaying the cameras and the most expensives lenses. Some tripods and bags were hanging on the wall while others were simply resting in a corner with a tag written "50% WOW!" over them.

A few moments later, someone came out of the office in the back to welcome their customer.

“Hello there, my sincere apologies if I took this long to-CALCIOS? IS THAT REALLY YOU?”

“H-hey, Aster... it's... been a while...”

The two robots looked at each other in silence, incapable of saying anything. Hope took this opportunity to quickly flied away from Calcios's coat and nudged him to walk toward his friend. Not even a meter away from each other, Aster threw themselves into their friend's arms, hugging him tight as to not let him go by fear of losing him. While the flying bot decided to watch them from the counter, Calcios returned the affection by those whispering words he had held for years.

“I missed you...”

“I missed you too, buddy. How long has it been since we last saw each other?”

“10 years I believe.”

Aster let go of their friend, not wanting to compress his friend like a compactor. They seized this opportunity to properly observe their friend, to memorize each piece of metal, to engrave this vision as a way to believe their friend was truly present. It could be a dream. Many times he dreamt of seeing their friend, waking up to false hope each time. But this time, Calcios was truly standing in his camera shop, his eyes wandering away.

“You're... staring a bit too much.” managed to say the visitor, his face faintly glowing red as to express a blushing feeling.

“Oh my bad, I was just admiring how you changed, you know?” Aster walked around their friend, this time examining him like he was a patient in their clinic. “You've changed some parts while you were away from Earth. I'm in love with those longer green ears. Are they antennas?”

Calcios nodded in panic, definitely shy from this excessive display of attention coming from his friend, not that he really wanted to stop them. At the opposite, Aster has not changed a single bit, even the deep, shallow cut in their breast plate. That injury made him remember why he quit earth in the first place, but also why he came back, but he didn't want to think about that. Right now, it was time for the happy reunion, and he wanted to express it.

“Hum... sooo... what's poppin?”

Once again, they stared at each other in silence, but this time, Calcios felt the cringeness of his words burning in his core, and he felt stupid.

“Calcios happy to see Aster. Calcios not good at words.”

Aster snatched Hope by using their telescopic hands and played with it like it was a tennis ball, ignoring the impassible complain of the bot. They didn't really care about how stupid or weird their friend sounded. Aster knew what was "poppin".

“Oh you know, still selling cameras while trying to figure out how you could fall in love with me,” answered Aster with a playful tone in their voice.

“Robots don't fall in love.”

“... 10 years away from those humans didn't teach you anything?”

Decidedly, those two robots were truly talentuous at creating awkward silence after another, but this time, a coldness, and a familiar one, weighed around them. Astel caressed their chest plate as to reminisce the reason of this whole "situation".

“You know what? Let's leave it at that for now.” Aster finally let go of Hope and walked back to their counter. “Did you want to buy a camera? I have this amazing Fujifilm XT-9 that comes with this amazing lens for only 14.999 tellurian currency. If you still have some american dollars, I think it's 4 100$, but I could gift you a bag because you're my friend.”

Calcios shushed their offer and leaned over the counter, closing the distance without any warning. His mouth nearly tapped against Aster's cheek, but instead, mere words came out like a bullet, a single sentence that froze Aster in place.

“I took it back”

On the counter, an old photo album was laying in front of the camera shop owner with the words "for my friends Calcios and Aster" engraved as a souvenir. At the bottom right, They read the name "Fuchsia", a name that reverberated a myriad of memories through their core. Aster opened the first page, then froze again by the sight of their passing friend, taken away by those who created them. The shop owner looked up, but Calcios was nowhere to be seen. The flying bot was also gone. Silence finally reigned like it always did. Aster wished they could cry, but robots don't shed tears, and they only had their interiorized affliction runing rampant through their circuit.

“You said robots don't love, but you didn't chase a single human for 10 years only to brink back a relic of our passed away friend for nothing...”

Aster let themselves fall on the ground, shaking uncontrollably from their overwhelming feelings. They looked at their injury once again, something they never bother to replace because they wanted to remember how their own creators, humans, also tried to be their destructors. Aster gently hugged the photo album, truly happy to have gain back their friend's memories.

[independentzaun]

Family issues and Zombies

Modern zombie Apoc starter for @cold-blooded-candy

((Quick few back story notes just so we have something to reference (if I got anything wrong here feel free to let me know I’m entirely willing to change and adapt). Silco adopted Jinx. Tried to adopt Vi, but couldn’t get it done in time. Vi blames Silco for being a homewrecker, and doesn’t know Silco tried to keep the sisters together. They do not have a good relationship at all. Vander is dead (car crash/accident), and things were complicated between him and Silco ala estranged spouses. Most of the bad stuff got blamed on Silco be it true or not, Vander is why Silco has his scars/bad eye. There’s a lot Vi doesn’t know/understand, and neither Vander nor Silco ever told her all of it. Silco has an arrest record for one reason or another. Silco has currently gotten separated from Jinx (who has Sevika with her) and everything is going to hell because zombies. With that, here we go.))

It would be easy to assume a man in his forties who was perhaps inching closer to fifty than he’d like to admit would have problems moving through town on foot while avoiding zombies. That assumption would be very wrong with Silco moving through a neighborhood he knew like the back of his hand. Silco had boots on that had seen him through a hundred punk shows, protests, and late night excursions. A heavy black leather jacket that went down to his hips, and a vest under it with a “nazi punks fuck off” patch on one side and another patch that said simply ACAB on the other. He hadn’t worn the vest in a few years not having had the opportunity to go to a show, but looking into his closet with a mix of frantic worry and the cold mindset that had gotten him out of so many bad situations before Silco simply hadn’t been able to resist grabbing it. Thankfully it still fit perfectly as did the rest of his outfit, and the backpack strapped to him that was perhaps half full didn’t impede him all that much as he moved.

His bad eye currently covered with an eye patch not wanting to take the chance that one of his decorative contact lenses would fall out Silco stalked through an alleyway. He’d spent practically his entire life in this town, and it showed as he took a side cut here or hopped a fence there or climbed up a fire escape only to move across the roof tops for a few buildings. A life spent with the first few years being chased by police or shop owners, the racist skinheads he’d fought more than once trying to grab him, or even just having fun with a friend running around all made it easy for the man to avoid zombies and get to where he was going with little issues. A shortcut through an abandoned apartment building did lead to one short deadly moment during which a zombie turned around growling in front of the window he needed to go through. Without hesitating for a second Silco simply shoved the makeshift spear he’d made out of a baseball bat he’d carved down, and a butcher knife attached to it with a few leather straps as well as duct tape and glue through the zombies face into it’s skull destroying the brain and kept going. It wasn’t something he enjoyed, but Silco had already seen more than enough examples of just what could come from allowing a zombie to live and get close to you to know he couldn't allow that.

Eventually he got to the college Jinx was supposed to be having her first semester at praying that she was still there, and with Sevika by her side. Pulling out a solar powered walkie talkie he hissed into it. “Jinx! Sevika! Are either of you there? Come in...Fuck!” Clicking it off Silco shoved it back into a cargo pocket on his pants, and continued through the college. There had been a disastrously high amount of zombies roaming around here near the start of the infection, but by now most had either died or left or gotten distracted and simply stayed in one building or another with nothing prompting them to do anything. Spotting the building that had the store for necessities and text books and snacks Silco frowned before heading that way figuring it was as good an idea as any. Slipping into it he glanced around hissing out Jinx’s name, and then Sevika’s before heading towards the food section first. Food, and then first aid was his plans. At some point however Silco heard a foot step and spun around pulling out the knife that had been sheathed on his belt as he’d put the spear down to scavenge. Blade very clearly held in a steady grip that spoke of a willingness to use it Silco paused for a moment realizing who was there, and turned his head just a touch to get a better look at her with his good eye.

“Vi?...Of course…” He shouldn’t be surprised. If anyone could survive this shit it was Vi, and as much as he felt that immediate rush of anger and resentment rising up there was also weirdly a faint small tiny hint of relief deep down inside not that he would ever admit it. Glancing past her to make sure she wasn’t followed he put the knife down by his side and took a breath shaking his head. “Look we don’t have time for a long conversation, or yelling. Not with the biters around so making this quick I got separated from her. Sevika should be with her and I need to find her…” Lips tightening a bit his scars twitched before he spoke again. “I suppose. We. Need to find her. Now we have our issues, but we both want Jinx safe and whole.” What ever issues he had with Vi. With the daughter he’d tried so hard to keep side by side with Jinx, but had failed and instead of keeping his family whole and together had seen it split. There was no doubt in Silco’s mind that here and now in this wasteland of death if there was one thing they shared it was that need to ensure Jinx was safe.

“So either we can work together, and not get in each others way or we can keep stumbling over each other as we look for her and risk pulling the biters down on us.” The knife slipped into it’s sheath as he stared at her. “Because I’ll never stop looking for her. So what’s it going to be Vi?” The woman was, he was sure, smart enough to know two people together was far safer than one. At least assuming the two people could trust each other enough to work together, and Silco knew quite well you didn’t have to like someone to work together. There was of course a soft growling sound from somewhere be it in the back of the building, or outside. Still far too many zombies, and too much risk to stay where they happened to be at that moment for long.