#gray is straight out of a trash bag

[dragon-toad]

Redrawing Fairy Tail's cover part 1

Do you like it ?

[alexanderwales]

Castle Solutions was the only time travel company in the world. They had a giant corporate headquarters in downtown Chicago, which was the only place in the entire world with a time machine, at least as far as anyone knew. They were worth hundreds of billions, and the only reason they weren't worth more seemed to be that they didn't care all that much about money. The time machines were used for everything: reporting, media, market corrections, the surveillance state, and industry. Castle Solutions was the lynchpin of the modern world.

Daniel had thought the waiting room would be nicer.

He sat in a blue-gray chair that would have been at home in any waiting room anywhere else in Chicago. Slightly tinny music played over speakers from the ceiling. A fake potted plant sat in one corner, failing to look lively. There were no windows, because the waiting room was deep in the heart of the building, close to the machine itself.

Daniel was the only one in the waiting room. He'd come half an hour early, lugging all his gear, and now the only thing left was for the clock to run down. A bored-looking woman had come in to tell him that it might be awhile, that they were running behind schedule — the time travel company, running behind schedule. So there had been more waiting than expected.

A man in a charcoal gray suit with a simple blue backpack came in. He slung the backpack down onto the ground with a sigh and rubbed his face. He had stubble there, but an artful amount of it, like he'd spent some time in the mirror making sure that it was the right amount of scruff to offset his expensive suit.

Daniel looked straight ahead, trying not to look, keeping his face blank, like he was passing by a homeless person who might ask him for money he didn't have.

"Wow, you've got a lot of stuff," said the man. "Is that a sword?"

"It's a katana," said Daniel. He didn't match the eye contact the man was giving him.

"Oh, cool," said the man. "You're going to ... katana times?"

"Edo Japan, yeah," said Daniel.

Daniel was trying his best not to engage, to get this conversation over as quickly as possible. He wasn't making eye contact.

The man picked up his backpack and moved across the waiting room to be closer to Daniel.

"You speak Japanese?" the man asked.

"Hai, watashi wa nihongo o hanashimasu," replied Daniel. He wished that he were more fluent, that the words had come out less rote.

"Cool," said the man. He had apparently also come closer to get a look at all of Daniel's stuff. His eyes moved over the duffel bags. There wasn't much to see, everything had been carefully packed away. "Wow, you sure are prepared, huh?"

"It's a different time and place," said Daniel with a shrug. It represented five years of planning, five years of training, learning, honing himself.

"Personally, I'm going to 1946," said the man, though Daniel hadn't asked. He held out his hand. "Archie Vedder."

Daniel reluctantly took the hand. "Daniel Strom." He had never really gotten the hang of shaking hands. He worried that his hands were too clammy, a worry that proved founded when Archie wiped his hand on that expensive charcoal suit.

"I went with the kit," said Archie, pointing to his backpack. "I've got papers, I've got a computer with a backup, I've got a projector, a media library, a science library, the whole works, plus some forged bonds and a stack of cash. I got a sweet deal on it, they're overstocked now."

Retreating into the past had seen its heyday. Now most of the people who had been most enthusiastic were gone, and there were only the dissenters left. Everyone agreed with using the machine for the mundane stuff, but simply leaving, never to return, rubbed people the wrong way.

"I guess they don't sell kits for Edo," Archie ventured.

"They do," said Daniel. "They're trash."

"Ah," said Archie.

"This is all custom," said Daniel. "Higher quality, field tested, everything I'll need to set myself up there." Only some of it was stock. He had two computers, three smartphones, chargers and plugs, solar panels, replacement batteries, and redundant media libraries and science libraries.

Archie raised an eyebrow. "What does that mean, field tested? Because people don't come back. You're there for good, right?"

What it actually meant was that Daniel had gone out into a field and tested it, made sure that it worked under various conditions, set himself up like he might be explaining all this to a carefully chosen daimyo. There was only so much that camping in the woods and taking dry run vacations could tell him though.

"Some of it is theory," said Daniel. "Research."

"Yeah, see, that's why I went with 1946," said Archie. "It's really well-trod. You know, I was reading an article the other day that maybe the Baby Boom was a little overstated? Like, we're obviously living in the wake of time travelers, but that's the prime time to come back, anywhere from 1946 to 1960. The economy is doing well, tech is advancing, it's familiar enough. The culture is so close you can sell some stuff from a media library, it's brilliant. You're five steps away from becoming a multimillionaire in a time when that meant something."

"Sure," said Daniel.

"Any reason you're doing hard mode?" asked Archie. "I mean, samurai and ninjas are cool, sure, but —"

"It's not about that," said Daniel.

"Alright, sure," shrugged Archie.

Daniel looked over at the waiting room's lone clock. You would think that a waiting room for a time travel company would have better clocks, but it was a cheap utilitarian design, thin plastic and wobbly hands.

"What's it about then?" asked Archie.

"I was going to go with a friend," said Daniel. "We had practiced together, trained together. Then he got cancer."

"Ah, shit," said Archie.

"He lived," said Daniel. "He's fine. But he's on medications now, and will be for the rest of his life, and he can't go anymore."

"Huh," said Archie. "So there's a friend who you're leaving behind?"

"No," said Daniel. "I mean ... this was what we did together. We talked about it a lot. We read history books and practiced crafts and skills. At the start, I didn't really take it that seriously, it was just a hobby, but I got invested, and I guess I kept seeing it as — I don't know."

"I mean for me, it's a way out," said Archie. "Most people feel that way, yeah? My wife filed for divorce, I got fired from my job, so hey, time to start over in 1946, pretend I'm part of the Greatest Generation, ride the waves I know are coming. Exploit it."

Daniel grimaced. The Vietnam War, segregation, the Red Scare? People had a rosy view of that time. He'd never felt particularly aligned with people like Archie who were just looking to make a quick buck.

"Oh come on," said Archie. "You think you're better than me? You're a, you know, what's the word. Colonizer."

Daniel rolled his eyes. "No."

"What, just 'no', it's not, you know, what we did to the Native Americans?" asked Archie. "The whole 'conquer the past' thing?"

"I'm a single person," said Daniel. "I'm bringing back things that will change their culture forever, but I'm not an agent of my country, and even if I were, I think those people who want to be a god king are morons. And sorry, I'm not spending my last minutes in the present on badly rehashing a debate I've had a thousand times already."

"Why not?" asked Archie. "See, I think having arguments right before you go is great. You can leave on a high note. I've spent the last few days saying whatever the hell I wanted to people. It's great. I went to my dad and said 'hey, you were a terrible father, I never liked you, and it's sad that you thought I needed your approval'. And then you know what's hilarious? I get to just walk away and never be seen again. How's that for a power move? How's that for a mic drop?"

"Seems immature," said Daniel.

"Well, see, I'm actually fine being immature," said Archie with a little laugh. "And when this conversation is done, one or both of us is going into the past, never to be seen nor heard from again, and isn't that great? You don't like me, I don't like you, and then we're strangers again."

Daniel had been looking straight ahead, but he turned to Archie after that. "You don't like me?" he asked. "You don't know me."

"I know your type," said Archie. He leaned back. "You spent what, three years cooking up a plan, making this trip back in time your entire personality, and now you think you're better than me, better than everyone, like you've got it all figured out. You talked yourself into throwing away everything you've got going on here. You got dreams of a future in the past. It's quitter talk, is what it is."

"Fuck off," said Daniel. In his normal life he'd have never said it, but he was on the precipice.

"You think going into the past is going to transform you?" asked Archie. "That another world, a second chance, you'll somehow become the man you think you were supposed to be? Well let me tell you, if you were a loser here, you'll be a loser there."

Daniel stood up and drew his sword. He'd practiced the draw a thousand times. The sword gleamed, even under the ugly fluorescent lighting of the waiting room. "Fuck off, or you'll be going back to the 50s missing a hand."

"Bah," said Archie. "Fine." He stood up and took a seat further away, the same one he'd taken when he first came in. He was bouncing his leg and reading something on his phone.

Daniel was putting his sword back in its sheath when the receptionist came into the room.

"Daniel?" she asked, glancing only briefly at the sword. "They're ready for you."

"Finally," Daniel thought but didn't say, because even though he wasn't going to be around anymore, he believed in basic politeness.

He gathered his things and left the waiting room, ready to leave.

~~~~

Archie sat outside Castle Solutions, in their little courtyard, vaping.

It wasn't long before the receptionist, Lydia, came to sit next to him.

"It didn't really seem like you wanted to convince that one," she said.

"Yeah," he said. "Sorry."

She shrugged and pulled out a vape pen of her own. "Sometimes you just want to yell at someone. I get that. But you're risking us getting caught. And if we get caught in the future, we probably get caught in the present."

"Yup," he said. "Won't happen again."

"Give it a few days before you come back," she said. "Three, let's say. He didn't file a complaint, so there's nothing in the system."

"Mmm," said Archie. He made a long, slow drag of the pen. They sat there vaping together for a while. It had often occurred to him that vaping was impossibly lame, but it felt less lame when done with someone else. He watched as the vapor left her mouth in a thin, concentrated stream. "You wanna go out sometime?"

"On a date?" she asked. She gave the tip of her vape pen a casual look. "No, not really."

"Alright," said Archie.

"I don't really know what your deal is," she said. "Why this is important to you. Why you want to talk people back from the brink, or yell at them."

"Mmm," said Archie. "You want to tragic backstory?"

"Meh," Lydia replied. "I'm not going on a date with someone who has a tragic backstory. That's all. Sorry. I've got my own tragic backstory, thanks very much."

"Fair," said Archie. "It was my kid brother, that's the short version. He up and left one day, left us a note that read like ... well, you know." He drew a finger across his neck.

"Where'd he go?" asked Lydia.

"England, 16th century," said Archie. "He thought he was going to take Shakespeare's place." He shook his head. "Only eighteen, you know? Unconscionable that they let kids that young through. He had his whole life ahead of him and he just ... disappeared."

Lydia sighed. "Yeah."

She turned off her vape pen, then mimed stubbing it out on the bench like a cigarette before slipping it into her purse. He felt a surge of attraction for her.

"Alright, I'll go on the date," said Lydia. "But if we're going to be dating, you've gotta stop this."

"Vaping?" asked Archie.

"You know what I mean," said Lydia. "You going in there trying to convince them to back out, that's one thing. It's noble, almost. But if it's going to be fighting, if it's you trying to work through some shit, then I'm not sticking my neck out for you. Doubly so if you want to get together. You process your trauma some other way, or repress it like the rest of us, alright?"

Archie thought about that for a moment. "Alright. Sure."

"I've got to get back to work," said Lydia as she rose from the bench. "You have my number."

Archie nodded, and after she had left, he stayed, looking out at the courtyard.

He wondered how Daniel was doing out there, in that other timeline, but he supposed that he would never know.

[leodette]

Bowl of Cherries | MV33

fandom: Formula 1

pairing: Max Verstappen x OC (aka our darling lilli)

names/faceclaims: -

summary: one clumsy moment, and suddenly plans have to change (not that anyone compains)

warning: mentions of mild injury, possible light swearing

requested: yes / no

author's note: for our beloved lilli aka @maxlarens! Happy birthday babe, enjoy your day! ❤️

**********

They were supposed to leave. Their reservation was getting close, but neither of them kind of rushed. There wasn't a reason after all.

"I'm such a clumsy idiot that it screams problem," the woman muttered while sitting on a couch, already dressed in her little black dress and diamond necklace. The man was kneeling in front of her, a bag full of frozen peas in his hand, pressing it to her swollen ankle.

"Looks like heels will go straight to trash," she snorted, and Max just looked up and smirked.

"Do you understand that I can cancel that reservation with a single phonecall, right? No need to panic that we can't make it," he pressed the bag tighter and she hissed.

"Lils, baby, I know it hurts, but this will help it at first," he gently pressed his lips to her knee without any side intention but to comfort his fiancée.

"I know. But please, let me be angry at myself for ruining our anniversary, at least for a few minutes, okay?" she frowned at him, and he chuckled before a wrinkle appeared on his forehead.

"Wait, you think that you ruined our anniversary?"

"Well and didn't I?"

He scoffed and grabbed her hand, decorated with a timeless moi-et-toi diamond engagement ring, pressing it on the frozen bag.

"Hold it and sit still," he ordered before standing up and shrugging off this blazer, then quickly walking away from the living room.

She looked after him with a worry in her eyes. It was her clumsiness that destroyed their anniversary plans, the first anniversary they wanted to spend in their favorite restaurant as future husband and wife. Instead, her ankle was pulsing with pain, quickly turning into a size of an orange and a color of blueberries. The first drops on the window kind of woke her up from her thoughts. The sky outside turned gray, the heavy clouds full of water hanging just above the small principality they both called home. Jimmy and Sassy both patted over to their mistress, jumping on her lap and curling together, seeking warmth and comfort and quiet. She burried her fingers in their warm fur, her palm gently vibrating with their purring, and it almost made her smile. The possitive thing of the evening was that the cats came willingly to cuddle with her. And that certainly didn't happen too often.

"Okay, let's get you out of this dress."

She nearly jumped out of the couch when Max's voice sounded just behind her, Jimmy merely opening one eye to give his master a judgemental look before closing it again.

"Now you two, off to the carpet with you," Max gently scooped one cat with each hand and set them on the floor, earning a hiss and a swing by tail before both kittens marched to the guest bedroom. The comforter there apparently seemed like a good alternative.

"They plan to kill you," she muttered when her fiancé put a pile of clothes next to her and then grabbed the hem of her dress, pulling it over her head. Max helped her unclip the bra and put on one of his hoodies followed by joggers, then took off her necklace (which he left on the coffee table) and pressed a packet of cooling gel to her injured ankle.

"Okay, here we go. Let's call it a practice," he grinned at her, and she yelped when he swiftly lifted her bridal style, marching with her towards the balcony.

"I'm heavy," she murmured and burried her face in Max's neck, earning a chuckle.

"Yeah, and I'm Mona Lisa. Lils, schatje, you know I wouldn't let you fall, right?" three-time world champion pressed a kiss to her temple before opening the balcony door and stepping outside. And when she lifted her eyes, her jaw dropped. He put an air matress there, secored by few ties so it wouldn't fly away in the storm, and thrown their most fluffy blanket on it. There was the step he was using for excercise, laid with a various types of tapas and charcuterie - cheeses, sausages, crackers, olives, sundried tomatoes... and a bowl of cherries, grapes and watermelon.

Max gently laid her down on the matress and disappeared again, but just a few moments, to change himself in more comfortable clothes, before joining her again.

The rain was puring down, the wind bringing a smell of the sea to them, few lightning bolts appearing over the mountains.

"Open," Max ordered with a smile, and she opened her mouth, allowing him to put one of the blood red cherries in between her teeth. She chewed and spit out the cherrystone, before he gently took her face in his palm and pressed the softest kiss on her lips.

"Happy anniversary, Lils," he stroked her jaw with his finger.

"Happy anniversray, Maxie," she whispered back, allowing him another kiss.

[jennay]

My Best Friend (5)

Authors Note: I’m working on this and Im ok with taking some requests id you guys have them too! Just read the rules please ❤️

Summary: Noah meets readers family and suddenly things make sense.

Words: 3400ish

Chapters- 1/2/3/4

Master List

You watch as Noah checks himself out in the full-length mirror by the door. His face is etched with worry, and you can hear the panic in his voice. “This isn’t it,” he mutters, tugging at his oversized white graphic t-shirt. He ruffles his dark, short hair, hoping it will fall into place and not look like he just rolled out of bed.

You stand up from the bed, your feet hitting the cold wooden floors as you lazily walk over to him. “We’ve been lounging in bed for two hours. We should’ve gotten up earlier if you were going to be this picky.” You stand beside him, bringing your hand up to the back of his hair. You run your fingers through the thick, silky strands, trying to tame the random waves. His eyes close, and he almost purrs under your touch. “There,” you say, slowly dropping your hand to your side. “That looks better.”

“I’m not prepared to meet everyone. Look at my clothes…” Noah chuckles, rummaging through his duffle bag with a playful grin. “I’m gonna be honest, Jolly made it sound like we were just chilling with your sister, and now I’m meeting your other siblings and your mom. I’ve only had 24 hours as your fake boyfriend—I need more practice!” He pulls out a few items, tossing them onto the bed with a dramatic flick of the wrist. “I just have to act like myself, right?” Noah’s eyes land on you, pleading for reassurance. “Right?”

You laugh, shaking your head as you watch him. “Right. God, I’ve never seen you this nervous. We’re just meeting them for pizza,” you assure him. “It’s not like you’re asking them to marry me or that we need to have a full make-out session. Just be yourself, maybe add a little more affection.”

Noah looks down at his outfit, a mix of an oversized white graphic t-shirt and bright, mismatched socks—one with black and gray polka dots and the other with black and gray stripes. “Do you think they’ll notice my socks?” he asks, wiggling his toes.

You giggle, “They might, but it’ll just add to your charm." You let out a deep sigh, "I should’ve told them I married Jolly. That would probably be more believable at this point."

Noah pretends to be hurt as he roughly grabs his plain black shirt and slides it over his head, “I can’t believe you’d even say that to me, as your fake boyfriend I’m offended.” He teases placing his hand over his heart. “Alright help me out, does this scream perfect boyfriend?” His laughter fills the room with warmth making you smile.

You throw your sweater over your head. “Screams, I’m on a road trip and I packed lightly, which is why,” you gesture to your skinny jeans and sweater, “I’m also dressed like this.” You playfully roll your eyes, but there’s a hint of anxiety in your voice as Noah finishes putting on his outfit. “Come on,” you say, reaching your hand out to him. “We can look like trash together.”

Noah smirks, grabbing hold of your hand and letting you lead him to the kitchen where Kyle and your niece are waiting with Jolly. “Figured we can follow them,” Jolly says sheepishly, sensing the tension.

You go straight to your niece and scoop her up in your arms. She squeals with excitement as you smother her face with kisses. You laugh, but it’s a bit forced, pulling back as she does the same to you. “I missed you soooo much,” you say dramatically, trying to mask your unease. “Thought you were gonna sleep the day away.”

Lily stares at you for a second, smiling widely before her gaze turns to Noah. She stares up at him with big wide eyes. “You’re big… like a tree.”

You giggle, and Noah nods in agreement. “It’s because I ate all my broccoli growing up. Miniature trees turned me into a giant tree,” he says, laughing and giving her a small boop on the nose.

“That was the worst advice, Noah,” you say, setting her back on her feet. “Not every girl’s dream is to grow up and be 6’3”.”

Lily giggles and looks back at Noah. “Do you have to water yourself too?”

Noah chuckles, “Only when I’m thirsty. And sometimes I need a little sunshine too.”

You roll your eyes playfully. “Great, now she’s going to think she needs to sunbathe to grow taller.”

Lily looks at you with a mischievous grin. “Can I have ice cream to grow faster?”

You laugh, shaking your head. “Nice try, kiddo. But I think you’re perfect just the way you are.”

“Yeah no ice cream yet, sugar.” Kyle says smiling. “We aren’t quite ready yet, your sister and the baby should be ready soon.” He shoves a few more things into his backpack and whispers to Noah, “Don’t rush on the kids part.”

Jolly chuckles, “Noah… kids, yeah right.”

“Hey, I think we’ll meet you there,” you say to Kyle, trying to keep your voice steady.

“She should just be another minute or so,” he responds, glancing at his watch.

“It’s fine!” you say, suddenly feeling the weight of the stress on your shoulders. “I know where we’re going. I’ve literally been going there since I was a toddler…” You pause, taking a deep breath. “Let’s go.”

Kyle nods softly, understandingly. “Alright.” He gently places a hand on your shoulder as you walk past, a reassuring touch that momentarily eases your anxiety. You nod, thanking him, but the knot in your stomach tightens.

As you head towards the car, you can’t help but think about the impending gathering. This wasn’t going to be a pleasant event. Your brothers, your mother, and your sister all in one room? The thought alone makes your heart race. Noah and Jolly would fully understand why you stopped visiting once this event was over.

You shut the driver’s side door with a heavy thud, the sound echoing your apprehension. Placing the keys in the ignition, the car roars to life, and loud music blares from the speakers, causing Noah to flinch. He quickly reaches for the volume button, turning it down.

“What was that?” he asks, hopping into the passenger seat, followed by Jolly sliding into the back.

“Yeah, you little weirdo,” Jolly teases, trying to lighten the mood.

You let out a deep breath, the weight of the upcoming encounter pressing down on you as you pull out of the driveway. “It was nothing,” you lie, your voice strained.

“Bullshit,” Jolly chuckles, but there’s a note of concern in his laughter. “You’re not fooling anyone, you know.”

“I know I’m learning new things about you, but I know when you lie,” Noah says, smiling, though his eyes are filled with worry.

“I love that you guys are excited, but I’m not. I don’t like this at all. Being with my family does not bring out the good in me.” You pause, gripping the steering wheel tightly, your knuckles turning white. “Either everyone is going to fake nice this shit, or all hell is going to break loose.” You stop at a red light, glancing at Noah, then back at the road. “This will be a shit-on-me fest. You’ll know things I never wanted to tell. Like when I was into drugs or using alcohol constantly… all the shitty, abusive boyfriends I’ve had… how I lied, stole, and cheated life.” You take a deep breath, trying to hold back tears. “This isn’t fun for me. This is why I didn’t want to come here.”

Jolly places a hand on your shoulder and you cringe under his touch. “You aren’t that girl anymore.” He gently reminds you.

Noah nods, “Yeah fuck em.” He says lightening the mood. “I’m sure their lives aren’t perfect either.”

As you drive, the familiar streets pass by, each one bringing back memories—some good, some you’d rather forget. The closer you get to your destination, the tighter the knot in your stomach becomes. You glance at Noah and Jolly, their presence a small comfort in the face of what’s to come.

“It’s gonna be ok.” Noah assures you.

You force a halfhearted smile as you pull into the parking lot, the weight of the moment pressing down on you. After parking, you turn off the engine and stare at the imposing building ahead. “Ready?” you ask the boys, your voice barely above a whisper.

Stepping out of the car, you wait for them to catch up. As you head towards the door, you’re slightly taken aback when Noah intertwined his fingers with yours. “What?” he asks, noticing your puzzled expression. “Aren’t we supposed to hold hands six months into our relationship?” he teases, a playful glint in his eyes. “I told you, I’m going to be the best fake boyfriend I can be.”

Jolly chuckles, holding the door open and motioning for the two of you to enter. “I can already feel your brothers’ hate,” he jokes, his laughter echoing in the air.

You playfully roll your eyes as you stride into the restaurant, the familiar buzz of chatter and clinking glasses filling the air. The aroma of freshly baked pizza and the hum of conversations create a comforting backdrop. From afar, you spot your family, beers already lined up on the table in front of them.

You wave as you approach, and everyone stands for hugs and introductions. For a moment, you love how normal this all seems. Your older brother steps forward with a confident grin. “Josh, you must be Noah!” he says, extending a hand. You notice the firm handshake but also the genuine smile on his lips.

“Yeah, man. I’ve heard all about you guys. Nice to finally put names to the faces,” Noah replies, pulling out a chair and gesturing for you to sit.

You smile as you take the seat, feeling a mix of nerves and excitement. Noah sits next to you, casually draping an arm around the back of your chair, while Jolly takes the seat on your other side, already reminiscing about old times. You can almost see the wheels turning in Josh’s head, wondering what kind of chaos will ensue once your sister and older brother start interacting.

“This one looks hella normal. Are you ill?” your little brother, Benjamin, asks with a mischievous grin.

“Normal? That’s a first,” Josh quips, raising an eyebrow. “I was starting to think you only dated weirdos.”

Noah chuckles, a slight blush creeping up his cheeks. He nuzzles into your neck playfully and plants a kiss on your cheek. “Did you hear that, babe? They think I’m normal,” he teases, his eyes sparkling with amusement.

Benjamin laughs, shaking his head. “Well, good luck and welcome to the family, Noah.”

Your mother, sitting at the far end of the table, raises her glass. “To new faces and old memories,” she toasts, her voice carrying a hint of nostalgia.

The conversation flows, filled with laughter and light-hearted banter. For a brief moment, you forget about the underlying tensions and just enjoy the company of your loved ones.

“Just wait until mom brings out the baby photos.” Josh says to Noah.

“Oh, great,” Noah laughs. “I can’t wait to see those.”

“Just make sure mom doesn’t show him the one where you tried to give the cat a bath,” Benjamin chimes in, grinning wickedly.

“Or the one where you thought wearing a tutu rollerblading was a good idea,” Josh adds, smirking.

“Okay, okay, enough with the embarrassing stories,” you say, laughing. “Before you scare him off.”

“Too late,” Noah jokes, squeezing your hand. “I’m already in too deep.”

Moments later, the door creaks open again, revealing your sister, her husband Kyle, and their two kids. They join the table, and Noah’s hand finds its way to your back, rubbing soothing circles. “Beers?” Kyle asks, pointing to you and the boys.

“I’m good with water,” Noah says, and you nod in agreement.

“Me too!” Jolly adds enthusiastically.

Kyle nods, “Three waters. One beer, one cider, and momma, are you good with your beer?”

Your mother nods, her eyes lingering on you. “No fun? Not even one beer?” she teases, a playful glint in her eye.

Before you can respond, your sister cuts in, “No, because then it turns into 2, 5, 10… blackout,” she says with a laugh that sounds lighthearted but carries a sharp edge, a reminder of your past.

You shake your head, feeling the familiar sting of judgment. “Here we go,” you mutter, leaning your head on Noah’s shoulder, seeking comfort in his warmth.

Noah rubs your shoulder, his touch gentle and reassuring. He kisses the top of your head. “I’m here,” he whispers softly, his voice a soothing balm against the rising tension.

“Oh god. We had to stop taking her to bars with us. She would just get so messed up and always end up with one of her trashy exes,” Josh says, taking a sip of his beer, his words cutting through the air like a knife.

Jolly glances nervously from your mom to your sister, clearly debating whether he should try to change the subject. But before he can say anything, you sit up straight, your eyes blazing with defiance.

“At least I can admit I have a problem…” you say, your voice steady and challenging. “Wild how all of you do the same thing, but I’m the one who gets shit on for it. At least I’m trying?” You shake your head, the frustration and hurt evident in your expression.

Noah’s hand moves to your back again, his touch grounding you. “Don’t let them get to you,” he whispers softly, his voice a soothing balm against the rising tension.

Josh, never one to miss an opportunity to stir the pot, points at Noah. “So, are you an alcoholic too?” he asks, his tone dripping with sarcasm.

“For fuck’s sake,” Ben mutters, propping his head on his elbows up on the table and leaning his head on his hands. “We haven’t even eaten yet. Can’t this wait until after?”

You’re listening to Ben’s words, but your cold stare still rests on Josh. His blue eyes are ice cold as he clinks his drink to your sister’s, and they giggle.

“C’mon. It’s just a joke,” Josh says, but you know it’s not a joke; it’s just another jab. “It’s all out of love.”

“That’s not love,” Noah mumbles under his breath, his hand still a comforting presence on your back.

Your mother, who has been silently observing, finally speaks up. “Enough. This isn’t the time or place for this,” she says, her voice firm but weary.

Josh rolls his eyes but doesn’t push further. The tension at the table is palpable, and you can feel the weight of everyone’s eyes on you. You take a deep breath, trying to steady yourself.

Noah’s hand moves from your back to your hand, squeezing it gently. “Let’s just get through this,” he whispers, his eyes filled with concern and determination.

You nod, appreciating his support. The rest of the meal continues in strained silence, with occasional forced attempts at conversation. You can’t help but feel a mix of anger and sadness, but Noah’s presence beside you keeps you grounded.

As the evening drags on, you find yourself glancing at the clock, counting down the minutes until you can leave.

You feel icy blue eyes land on you again and you’ve noticed the more Josh drinks the more vicious he gets, “You know it makes sense that you’re dating him.” He says pointing to Noah, “He probably has all the conncetions to drug dealers, plus he’s loaded with money.” He smirks and goes back to eating his food like nothing happened.

Your mouth drops. You feel your chest tighten. “I wanna go,” you whisper to Noah. “I can’t do this.”

Noah’s eyes meet yours, filled with understanding and a hint of frustration. He nods slightly, his jaw tightening as he processes your words. You stand up without warning, looking around the table. This isn’t where you wanted to be, and this isn’t where you needed to be. These people weren’t your family; they were simply related to you.

Noah stands up next to you, his presence a comforting shield, and Jolly does the same. “We’re leaving.”

“Oh, here we go,” your mother chimes in. “You can’t let us have one dinner.”

Noah scoffs at the comment, his hand placed on your back as he pushes you forward, trying to ignore the comments. “You guys started this shit and want her to stay? Why, to be a punching bag? So you guys have someone to point the finger at to make yourselves feel better?” His voice is steady but laced with anger, his protective nature coming to the forefront. “It’s really not shocking why she never talk about you guys or why she doesn’t visit.” He pauses, his eyes roaming the group of people who look surprised by his words. “She doesn’t need you guys…she has us and other friends in California that treat her a million times better.”

You grab Noah’s hand, feeling the warmth and strength in his grip, and follow behind Jolly. “Let’s go, it’s not worth it,” you quietly say.

When you exit out the doors, you feel the fresh air hit you, a stark contrast to the stifling atmosphere inside. Two men are staring at you, waiting for you to crack, but instead, you laugh, not believing what just happened.

“You see why I don’t come back? It’s the same shit every time,” you say, shaking your head, frustration boiling over. “I walk in, and it’s like I’m instantly transported back to being that screw-up they all remember. No matter what I do, it’s never enough.”

Jolly nods, not wanting to add fuel to the fire. “He was harsh,” he softly speaks, his eyes filled with concern.

You shake your head, your voice rising with emotion. “I get why he’s mad. I do. I wasn’t great, and he had to bail me out of shitty situations often. I just kept jumping into it again, time after time—rehab, hospitals, all of it, over and over. But I’m not like that anymore! I’ve changed, and I wish they would look at who I am now. But it’s like all they can see is who I used to be, and it’s suffocating.”

Noah looks at you, his expression softening. “You don’t have to prove anything to them, and they shouldn’t be that way toward you anyway. We’ve got your back, right?” He turns to Jolly.

Jolly nods in agreement. “Right.” He follows you toward the car, his steps light and carefree. “Hey… didn’t you grow up around here? Thrift shop and coffee time? Isn’t that on your list of things to do in every town?”

You laugh at his comment, remembering your pact. “You know the way to my heart.”

“I’m driving,” he declares, snatching the keys from your hand and pushing his sunglasses back on his face.

As Jolly skips goofily to the car, you feel Noah grab your hand, pulling you back for a brief moment. He places his hand under your chin, gently forcing you to look at him. His eyes lovingly stare into yours, causing a flutter of nervousness in your stomach. “I just want you to know… everything I said is true. Fake boyfriend, best friend… whatever. I got you. Always,” he says softly, his voice filled with sincerity.

You swallow hard, feeling a lump in your throat. “I know, Noah. Thank you.”

He smiles, a warm, genuine smile that makes your heart skip a beat. “Come on, let’s catch up with Jolly before he drives off without us.”

You follow him to the car, your mind racing. The thought that keeps replaying in your mind is terrifying. You weren’t growing feelings for Noah. Were you? The idea made you feel ridiculous. This was obviously your brain trying to get over Michael and move on as fast as you could. It was protecting it’s self from feeling any pain and Noah just happened to be there.

As you slide into the car, you steal a glance at Noah, who’s chatting animatedly with Jolly. Your heart aches with the weight of your unspoken emotions. You take a deep breath, trying to steady yourself. This was just a phase, a fleeting moment of confusion. It had to be. You couldn’t let it be anything more.

[scarlettjade420]

Caring BF x Trans masc reader

Wanted some good book bf x trans masc reader but couldn't find any, so i'm writing my own. small TW for talk about transphobia. comfort As i walk in from a long day of being misgendered and having bigoted words thrown my way, i drop my bags on the floor carelessly. i make my way straight to my bed and flop down on it, not having enough care to even change out of my day cloths. i just lay on my bed and lay there. eventually i hear the door open, assuming it must have been Greyson coming in. i had completely forgotten that he was coming over today. not that it was uncommon; he was comes over almost every day, he practically lives here at this point. I hear some shifting at the door for a moment before he makes his way into my room. "Darling" he says with a question at the doorway. i give a muffled hum in response. "are you ok, darling?" i groan in response again, still being muffled from the bed my face was currently berried in. "Long day?" i groan again, this time with some extra dramatic sobs with it. i hear him as he walks over to the bed and sits next to me, putting his hand on my head and gently petting my short fluffy green hair. he asks me if i needed anything, and i pause to think a moment before i respond. "cuddles?" "ofcorse love." with that, i drag myself up off my bed and curl up to him. he raps his arms around me and pulls me onto his lap. As i sit, facing towards him on his lap, i nuzzle my head into the crook of his solder and let out a deep, tired sigh. "talk to me, darling" he says softly as he pets my hair gently still. i start to tell him about my whole day, about running late this morning, being called ma'am as i walked in, about being called "mis" at the gas station, about the white trash group of guys calling me every slur and unoriginal comment ever to exist. as i talk, i start to get of topic about how i hate being trans and just wish i could have been born a boy, about how i hate being misgendered and about how transphobia exists. as i get more and more of topic, i start to rush my words and fidget with my hoodie strings. tears start in my eyes. " hey, hey, calm down darling" Grayson says as he wipes the tears from my eyes. he rests his hand on my cheek, rubbing his thumb back and forth on my left cheek comfortingly. "i don't wanna feel like this anymore, Gray" i say through choked tears. i hadn't realized how much of a toll this one day has had on me till this point. Greyson's face was filled with empathy and worry, but also full of care. his narrow brown eyes show more care than any combination of words from anyone could ever show. "darling.." he starts, thinking about his words carefully. "I know it's hard baby, and it's not fare what you have to go through. but you're always so strong as you get through each and every day with your head held high like a proud stallion winning a race. it's tough what you go through, but you're tougher. and i'll always be proud of you." he always gives some long winded speech when ever he needs to comfort me, but i can't say it doesn't work. "how about w go make you some tacos and we can watch a movie together, would that help?" he knows tacos will always help anything. i nod eagerly and wipe away my remaining tears. "ok darling." and with that, he picks me up and takes me to the kitchen. we make tacos together, and went back to the bedroom and turn on the TV, turning on a funny movie we can both enjoy together. eventually we went back to grab some ice cream after we finished the tacos. we fell asleep that night, comfortably and warmly in each others arms. ｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ

Let me know if you think i should do more like these, or if you have any suggestions, thanks for reading! word count; 673

[meringuecream7]

A Lovable Hummingbird in 100 Years || Chapter 10: The Day Brenda Went Away

Seven years later, Susie became George and Brenda’s most honorary and kind daughter. She was taught many things (like how to be kind to people, how to make friends, etc.), and she learned them by memory.

  Monday is the day that Brenda needs to dance all over the world. That was her biggest dream of all when she was a kid (that she told about to George and Poppy). She swiftly put her black top hat on her head and applied her lipstick.

  “Now I must be going,” she said to her husband as she grabbed his shirt. “Goodbye, honey.”

  “See you soon, darling,” said George. “I’ll let you know when you want something.”

  Brenda smiled and pressed her lips at George’s cheek and then removed them. She opens the door and shuts it behind her. George then feels his cheek and checks his hand to see a red lipstick stain. His wife had left a lipstick mark on his cheek!

  Darling, you don’t have to do that, he wanted to say to his wife, blushing deeply and smiling goofily.

  “Daddy!” George heard Susie say upstairs. “I need help with something.”

  George rolled his eyes with a smirk. What could possibly go wrong? he asked himself.

  He wiped the lipstick stain from his cheek and went upstairs to Susie’s room. “So,” he began, “what do you need? I’m here for you.”

  “Well, I finished my homework yesterday,” replied Susie, donning a white button-up with a dark gray skirt and black Mary Janes. “But now, I really need you to help me with packing my bag. It’s my first day of school.”

  George nodded and packed Susie’s stationery into her bag. He sees something off about his daughter: her hair bow isn’t straight. He adjusts it so that it is evenly straight.

  “Thanks, Daddy,” Susie smiled and hugged him. “I’ll get an apple before I can go to school. I’ll see you later!”

  With that, she rode out of her room and downstairs to get an apple and leave. George sighed and sat down on the floor.

  Is Brenda really coming back after performing lots of shows? he wanted to ask.

  Then, he saw the mailbox full. Looks like the mail is here, he thought to himself.

He went outside to check the letters. But there is a unique one: a letter from his sister! George opened the envelope and began to read. The letter read:

‘Dear George, I had a lot of fun at the Aviary Jazz Club! It was like a party in here! First, a woman named Julie Fiedler introduced me to her brother, Eric, who is a bassist. And the most all glory owner, like we had met before since we were children, Johnathan Aviary himself! I cannot wait to join them; please give me a call so that I can wink at you back! - Yours Truly, Poppy’

George hugged the letter and folded it in half. Then he sashed it in his vest pocket. She never lets me down! he would exclaim in joy.

He went back to his house and shut the door behind him. He then grabs a piece of paper and begins to write to his sister.

‘Dear Poppy,’ he wrote.

Then he stopped. Nah, he thought as he crumpled a piece of paper and put it in the trash can. I’m not supposed to write her a letter. I’m supposed to write a song! For them.

With that, he grabbed another piece of paper and his guitar and strummed some notes. Jazzy notes. Then, I jotted them down on a piece of paper.

Poppy is great at lyrics, he told himself. I’m a sucker for writing them like I cannot know ‘em, but let's go on.

He began writing down the lyrics. ‘Welcome to the Aviary Jazz Club, listen to the music glide along. We got cocktails, dancing, and most especially, our upbeat and jazzy songs.’

Mr. Amanzi, I just gotta say, you do have a knack for writing songs and rhyming each word, George complimented himself. Especially rhyming ‘time’ with ‘mind’. You can or cannot.

He heard the door open. It was his daughter Susie. She shut the door behind her and removed the bag away from her.

“How was school, honey?” asked George.

“It was wonderful, Daddy!” Susie replied excitedly. “First, I made some new friends, learned something new, and tasted the best school lunch ever!”

"I'm happy to hear that," George smiled.

He then heard Susie yawn. “I’m getting tired,” she mumbled groggily as she rubbed her eye.

George looked out the window. The moon is rising up. It’s almost past her bedtime, he told himself. And mine, too!

“Come on up, Susie,” George beckoned his daughter as they went upstairs. “It’s eight o’clock. You don’t wanna stay up late.”

George turned on the warm water in the bathtub and put Susie in. Susie waded a little bit in the bathtub, scooped up some water, and poured it on her hair. Then, she turned to her father.

"Daddy?" she began as she grabbed the soap and washed it all over her body. "What did you do when Momma and I left?"

“Oh, well,” George replied. “I kind of write some songs. Old and new. But I revise them to make sure it doesn't sound... horrible.”

“That’s new!” said Susie as she grabbed the shampoo and spread it on her hair. “I wanna listen to your songs whenever Momma is away.”

George nodded and moved his eyes to the floor. I can never say no to a child, he thought to himself.

When bath time is over, Susie puts on her pajamas, brushes her teeth, and goes straight to her bed. She squirmed her way on the mattress and hugged her stuffed rabbit.

“Daddy?” she asked as her father tucked her in with the blanket. “Will BunBun be here for me? Always and forever?”

“Always and forever,” George chuckled as he reached for the lamp and pulled on the chain. Then he kissed his daughter on her cheek. “Goodnight, Susie.”

“Goodnight, Daddy,” whispered Susie.

George chuckled and closed the door. Then, it was his turn to go to sleep. He took a shower, brushed his teeth, changed into his pajamas, and went to bed.

Tomorrow’s a good day to write a letter to Brenda, he thought as he shut his eyes tight and slept.

Prologue Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12 Chapter 13 Chapter 14

Chapter 15 Chapter 16

[cloudycleric]

Will shoved open the board restricting the entrance into the attic, coughing as dust flew everywhere—including his eyes. In contrast, a wide eyed Mike Wheeler stood at the bottom of the ladder, holding it up, curious and worried.

“Shit, are you okay?” He asked, his grip around the ladder tightening as Will swatted the dust falling around them.

Will coughed, squinting his eyes and fanning his face, “yeah, it’s just dust.” He finished shoving the board to the side, poking his head through the attic’s entrance. “When was the last time you came up here? A thousand years ago?”

Mike started at the bottom of the ladder, effectively shoving Will up into the attic. “I don’t know, it’s been ten years, at least.”

The attic looked like it could be in a film, it reminded Will of how Stephen King described the Losers’ hideout in It. There were stacked cardboard boxes without labels throughout the room, which was shaped like a cross. Dust particles slowly floated in the air and were made visible by sunlight gleaming through windows on the walls that stood straight up, as opposed to the walls slanted by the roof on the outside. The floor was a stereotypical wood paneling, it almost looked darker due to the lack of light in the attic. He carefully climbed all the way off the ladder and onto the floor. As he stood up, he dusted off his pants.

The floor creaked as Mike followed, standing a few inches directly behind Will, pushing him a little bit. Is he scared?

“Wow, this looks nothing like how I left it,” Mike eventually moved from behind Will to look at the assortment of cardboard boxes. “There used to be lights and figures and—”

“Why did you stop coming up here?” Will questioned, running a finger over one of the boxes, his finger turning gray. “I mean, if it was as cool as you’re describing.”

“God, you’re such a nerd,” Mike scoffed.

“You’re talking?”

“And I stopped coming up here because my dad saw all my stuff up here one time and then found my key to the entrance and took it from me. He said it was some sort of safety hazard or something like that.” Mike crouched, studying the different boxes. He wiped away a curl from his eyes, still deep in concentration.

“Then what happened to the figures and stuff?” Will wondered why Mike was looking so intently at the boxes, assuming that the toys and fixtures had been thrown away if his dad got to them.

“He made me come back in here to clean up with a trash bag,” Mike replied. “He told me to throw away the toys and to put the lights back into the Xmas box, since that’s where I stole them from.”

Will knew that couldn’t be the full story. “And?”

“I snuck the figures into one of the storage boxes up here so I wouldn’t have to throw them away,” Mike moved to looking at another pile of boxes, “but since I never had the key, I couldn’t come back up for them.”

“And your dad never asked to check the trash bag?”

“He told me that he wanted to, but I guess he got busy with something else. Some other rich dude or mysterious work problem.”

“Sounds like him.��

“Oh!” Mike carefully removed a box from a pile with the label ‘FROM GRANNY’. “I put them in here.”

Will looked confused. “Wouldn’t he like, check a box left by his mom?”

“No, granny was my mom’s mom,” Mike explained, opening the flaps of the box. “He doesn’t care about my mom’s side of the family.”

Will frowned at how naturally Mike was able to say that.

Bubble wrap crinkled around Mike’s hands as he fished for the figures in the box, “I remember I had like, Wolverine and Storm and I think a few knight guys, too.”

The wrap flew out of the box as Mike lifted up a handful of the figures. It was like he was a video game character that just found something integral to his quest. In his hands were three figures. Will squinted to try and make out who they were, but Mike was too excited. He kept digging through the box and finding more of his lost childhood treasures. Will walked up to Mike to get a closer look.

Mike stood, knowing Will was walking over, and held some of the figures in his hand, “god, these were so awesome.”

Will held Mike’s hand to try and keep it still since Mike was almost shaking with excitement. “I always wanted this one!” He playfully smacked Mike in the back of the head. “Lucky rich little shit.”

do you guys think i'll get a 100 on this one too (submitted this one for creative writing)

[ghostboy-with-persona]

A video has been uploaded, watch?

[In one of the local green spaces of Amity Park, Valerie Gray was confused and angry, messing with her wristwatch, which is actuality, her control center, for her Red Huntress suit.

Danny can be seen walking up to her two grocery bags in hand. When he reaches her, he takes a deep breath and taps her shoulder.

Valerie visibly startles, turning to face Danny. Her face turns angry, "You better have a good explanation for what's going on, Ghost boy," she spits venomously.

Danny holds up his grocery bag, filled hands in a sign of surrender. "I'll get there just let's me pass you some things I bought, this will be a long conversion."

Valerie gazes at what Danny is doing with suspicion as he pulls out several sodas and two convenience store sandwiches. Danny spilts the pile of food and drinks into two equal piles and nods at Valerie to let her choose which pile she'll take. The two gazing into each other's eyes as Valerie slowly takes the pile on the left.

Danny takes the pile on the right, opening a can of soda right away. "You probably want me to start the explanation from the beginning, correct?"

At Valerie's hesitant nod, Danny continues, "It all started about two weeks after my fourteenth birthday. My parents had left the house for something. I can't remember what, and Sam, Tucker, and I thought it would be best to spend time in my parents' lab. We were incredibly dumb fourteen year olds, as one thing led to another, and the next thing I know, i've let Sam convince me to walk inside my parents, inactive at the time, portal. I think I was trying to impress her with my guts, but I'm not sure. It's very fuzzy after the next bit."

Danny takes a sip of his drink, Valerie is raptured by Danny's words before he continues with, "I put on my Hazmat suit trying to provide myself a little bit of safety, not enough for what comes next, but Sam ripped of my father's face off the suit before I walked inside the inactive portal, I had put my hand on the metal walls because the inside was dark and I didn't want to end up walking straight into the back wall. Next thing I know, my hand ends up in a dip, and I hear a soft click. By the time my brain had processed what I heard, it was too late to escape."

Danny shudders, rubbing his arm, and takes another drink. To try to give himself a little bit more time before he has to explain what happens next.

"Next thing I know, my world is nothing but pain that seemed to stretch out for an eternity... I just wanted it to stop, but I wanted my friends safe as well." Danny rubs his arms as echoes of the electricity that flowed through his veins back then causing muscle twitches and continues, "It did end... Eventually, when I got spat out of the now active portal and I unceremoniously flopped on the floor. I looked like you know..."

"The Ghostkid, Phantom, right?" Valerie asks gently as she hesitantly places a hand on Danny's shoulder and gives it a comforting squeeze.

"Yeah," Danny takes another drink, "Boy, did the three of us panic badly, thought I was just a ghost for a hot minute. It wasn't until I started really thinking about my human life that I turned back to human again and found out I was an even bigger freak than I thought I was."

Danny takes another drink, emptying the soda can, so he crushes it with his hands into a ball and throws it in the trash, not far away, and opens another. " Of course, I was in denial for a while. Thought it all was a strange dream, maybe even a nightmare. It took about a month before I accepted that the powers were real. The other form was real. it took even longer to accept the fact that I died that day, even if it didn't stick properly."

"Didn't stick? You mean you're not a ghost that can just look human?" Valerie questions

Danny shakes his head, "No, if it was just that I probably wouldn't have been in denial as long as I was. No, like this, I'm human. My heart beats, my hair and nails grow, I need to breathe, and the biggest sign is that I can use a persona."

"Persona?" Valerie asks

"A special power only humans and human-adjacent can have, It's literally impossible for a ghost to have a persona, but I'll explain them later." Danny says, "Anyway, where was I... oh, right, the Aftermath. So, by the time I accepted the fact, the Powers and Ghost form was real. My parents' portal had gotten attention from the local ghosts on the other side, and they got comfortable enough with it to try to explore the other side, which is when the first ghost attacks started happening."

Danny takes another drink of soda, "Now because it's my fault that the Portal was open in the first place, I decided to take responsibility for the consequences of my own actions." Danny says with a secretive smile, "and decided to use my new powers to protect the people of Amity Park the best I could."

At this, Danny looks at Valerie in the eyes, imploring her with his gaze to believe him. "I'm sorry about what happened to your dad. I tried to stop what happened, but I wasn't good enough. You don't exactly get an instruction book on how to control your powers after death, and Cujo just wanted his toy back from when he was alive and wouldn't take no for an answer. I tried again and again to keep him in the ghost zone, but he kept escaping. I found out later that Cujo could create his own portals, and I had no hope for keeping him contained, but I still felt absolutely terrible for the part I played in getting your dad fired."

"So that Dog isn't yours?" Valerie

"Back then, no, he wasn't. Cujo was a puppy put down by Axiom when the lab changed over from using guard dogs to the automatic defense system your father came up with. Now a days I'm definitely Cujo's person, though I finally managed to get cujo to stay in the ghost zone the majority of the time, but sometimes he does come over to play fetch with the ball he was after in the lab" Danny explains

Valerie looks at Danny and sighs, pulling the boy into a hug. "I can't believe I didn't see how much of an honest dork Phantom was before now. You tried your best. I see that now I was just blinded by wrath before I opened my eyes to the truth."

Valerie then grabs Danny hands, "Thanks for reaching out and becoming my friend even after I treated you terribly, as both Fenton and Phantom. I don't hate you anymore, but I'll need a little time to process all the information I have now before I can hear the rest of the explanation."

"Sure, take all the time you need, and you can keep the soda and food, I got it for you anyway." Danny says as Valerie turns to leave.

Valerie rolls her eyes with a smile on her face to collect her share of the soda and her sandwich, giving Danny a little wave as she leaves

Danny waves back until Valerie is no longer visible, then turns around and happily skips, "Woohoo! My chariot bond has returned to upright, and I got a rank up. This is the best day ever!"

[shions-new-blog-of-stuff]

"You're Still You"

Plaga Leon x OC

Part I

Part II

Part III

The clicking of a nail clipper echoed on the room, followed by the scratching of a nail file. Catherine's brow furrowed in concentration.

"They wouldn't even let you trim your nails?" she asked.

Leon and Catherine sat on the bed, his hand held by her. Seeing his hands up close, revealed his fingertips were darker than the rest of his body--looking like smudged ink. It was still dark outside, a little past midnight. The lamp light cast off shadows around the room.

"I had a room, with a shower. I got three meals a day," Leon replied in a despondent tone, "and not much else. But I did get them cut down... frequently. They grow back a lot faster than usual. It was one of the first things the lab guys discovered about me."

"So...you regenerate...like those gray skinned creatures on the island?" Catherine scooped up the clippings and threw them in a little trash bag.

Leon nodded.

Catherine sighed and paused to think. She tucked some hair behind her ear.

"That should do it," she said with a faint smile, "go on and hop in the tub. I forgot uncle has clothes for you in his room. I just hope they fit."

She stood up from the bed to make her way out the door, "Be right back. If you're hungry I can put something in the microwave for you."

Leon's hand grabbed her wrist, gently pulling her back.

She sat on the edge of the bed, "What's wrong? Where's it hurt?"

"As much I'm glad to see you again..." Leon began to say, "Sweetheart, you--you can still go home. Forget all this."

Catherine shook her head, feeling tears well up.

She took a deep breath and looked straight into his crimson eyes, "That night. I could have gone home. But I couldn't ignore someone needing help. And because of that, call it luck or fate or whatever...I got to meet you, know you. And..."

Her voice trailed off as she took another deep breath to compose herself.

"I think... I think it was when we were getting chased by that monster...the one Saddler called 'it'. When you saved me from falling off the cliff...I think it was that moment, that I wanted to be with you, always."

Leon felt warmth in his ears and stomach. Without realizing it, his hands lightly held onto Catherine's upper arms.

"For me it might have been the night of the concert, the outbreak. If I was just a second too late...I could have lost you to the virus. I wanted to tell you how I felt, but, work, you know?"

Catherine leaned in and buried her face in his shoulder, "I don't know what the future's gonna be like, but..."

She thought back to the gas station, "Leon...never in a million years I'd leave you in the cold."

Pulling back, she was smiling through her tears. She was taken by surprise when she felt Leon's arm move to the small of her back.

His face leaned in close, the tips of their noses brushing against each other, before tilting his head for a passionate kiss.

@mishwanders @squashfics @notrattus

[belit0]

Grandpa on the run

Indra refuses to believe his age disables him from fulfilling his only goal in life. I've been thinking about this for a long time and I just find lovely the fact Indra's blindness makes him work with Ashura, accidentally.

“I must kill Ashura.... Ashura, Ashura! Where is Ashura!”

Indra Otsutsuki grumbles to the air as the millennial anger against his brother continues to boil inside him.

“Ashura? Oh! I’ve heard that name somewhere... I know the guy! Come on, I’ll help you find him!”

A cheerful voice shouts next to his ear, as a hand unsuspectingly grips his elbow and starts guiding him who-knows-where.

“What’s your name, kind gentleman?”

This voice asks chattily.

“Are you ignorant of me, you foolish piece of trash? I am Indra, fearsome tyrant, straight out of hell for-“

“Who are we looking for?”

Legit is the question, that much is certain, for the doubt in whoever’s tone of voice guiding him is real.

“Ashura. Ashura Otsutsuki.”

“Oh! I know that guy! I think I’ve heard this name somewhere... come on, I’ll help you find him!”

And the direction they walk in changes drastically, turning 180 degrees and retracing those steps they just took.

Indra’s groans and slurred words left by all the way are countless, while his guide sings a friendly song about the moon.

A song his own grandmother used to sing to him as a child.

“Who are you?”

The voice asks for the tenth time and the Otsutsuki’s patience becomes thin.

“Indra! Greatest villain of all time! Best-“

“And what are we doing?”

“Looking for my brother!”

“Who is your brother?”

“Ashura Otsutsuki!”

“Oh! I know that guy! He’s got gray hair and uses a cane, right? “

“I don’t know, you idiot!”

“I used to have a brother! He hated me!”

“I hate you too!”

“That’s okay!"

Indra deduces they somehow made it to a house by how the wood sounds under the soles of their sandals.

“There! There! It’s him! Ashura Ashura Ashura! We found him!”

“What are you waiting for? Kill him for me! In the name of Indra! Strongest one-“

The clatter of shattering glass sounds throughout the room as a mirror collapses in front of them both.

Two pairs of footsteps run down the hallway to meet the Otsutsuki brothers, who are standing in front of a broken mirror.

Izuna speaks first, trying to catch his breath after rushing at top speed behind his escaping grandfather.

“Fucking Tobirama! Take better care of your bag of bones! He might hurt my gramps!”

The Senju looks at him in disbelief, while breathing with the same difficulty as his rival.

"Just because your relative is blind doesn’t justify his idiocy, you fool! My grandfather suffers from memory loss and so you know it! Keep your piece of history away from mine!”

Both young men hold their respective elders by the shoulders, pushing them away from each other.

“Get your hands off me, you cursed child!” Indra shouts angrily towards the nearest wall, figuring that’s where Izuna is.

Life has been an agonizing ordeal since he lost his eyes, and at 80 years old, he’s a pain in the ass for the entire family.

“What a cute kid! I like your white hair! Do I know you?”

Ashura asks happily and innocently as his youngest grandson guides him, his cane holding him.

“Yes, grandfather. You know me. I think so. “

[derekdoingparkour]

“I know baby” | on my ao3

|| Melissa McCall & Scott McCall

a/n: I’m only on season 1 so if this is ooc sry

tags: trans Scott McCall, trans fem!Scott, supportive Melissa, slight angst but mostly fluff

-

Scott’s never been the most masculine person, Melissa’s always known that, she’s never felt the need to make Scott pretend to be something he wasn’t.

And maybe that’s why she leaves the box of clothes set in front of Scott’s room for an extra day or two. She had found it while cleaning out the attic, there were actually a few boxes of old clothes from when Melissa was younger herself but she chose this one in particular. It’s filled with things that look like they could fit Scott now, tank tops, long sleeves, a few t-shirts, and a plethora of skirts.

There was a phase in Melissa’s life where she only would wear skirts, there has to be one of every kind in that box, but if she remembers there’s the most skater skirts. She always adored how they moved with her body, not staying pressed to her legs like a pencil skirt or too long like the ones that almost touched the ground. She always loved those skirts, and Scott’s a lot like her, so she leaves him the box.

After three days and a noticeable difference in the amount of clothes in the box, she tells Scott she’ll drop it off at the donation center after her shift at the hospital. One more chance to grab whatever it is he wants.

Scott of course nods and pretends like he’s not glancing at the box every few seconds, Melissa lets it slide. Her sons love of feminine things has always been something he’s tried to hide away, tuck under the bed and leave it there to collect dust. But he starts his sophomore year soon and he hasn’t seemed excited, if anything Scott seems to be dreading it, eyes dropping anytime Melissa mentions him going back; she hates seeing that look on Scotts face.

She’s hoping the clothes will help. Maybe Scott will even notice that Melissa left them there purposely, maybe he’ll finally tell her whatever it is that goes on in his mind. She can see how the gears turn anytime they pass by a woman’s clothing shop, or how he’s started to watch Melissa do her makeup in the bathroom the same way he did as a child. Back when his cheeks were chubby and his hair was a tousled mess of curls, he’d lean his elbow against the bathroom counter, pressing his face into his hand and staring in a daze as Melissa applied each product.

He has to know her whole makeup routine by now, and she can say with certainty that he’s tried at least her lipstick. The balled up dry tissues of red smears in the trash can and the red stain on Scott’s lips that night is all the evidence she needs. She wishes he’d come to her with it, open up and ask questions, she tries her best to show that she’s supportive of whatever Scott does but this will take time and all she can do is wait.

-

Though a warm smile instantly makes its way onto Melissa’s face when she creaks the front door. She was able to come home early today, she didn’t tell Scott and figured she’d get them some takeout and surprise him. Though the sight in front of her is quite a surprise, one that she loves to see.

Scott has some of Melissa’s old clothes on, a long sleeve stripped black and gray shirt, a red colored skirt that pops against his tan legs, and a pair of tall black socks. He spins around the kitchen floor, the skirt flowing with his movements. Loud music blares from Scott’s speaker set on the counter, he holds a spatula as a microphone and hasn’t noticed Melissa’s entry as he’s too busy singing the lyrics.

‘Uptown Girl’, Melissa recognizes, it makes her grin wider, this was no doubt stolen straight off her playlist.

She slowly makes her way more into the house, sliding the bags of takeout onto the kitchen island as she sits in one of the stools. Scott’s has his eyes closed and keeps spinning in circles so he’s oblivious, honestly Melissa is glad, she wants to cherish this moment of seeing her baby act like his pure self.

“My uptown girl—.” Suddenly Scott stops in one full motion, nearly falling into the counter as his socked feet slip on the wooden floor.

“Mom!? I- I didn’t think you’d be home…” His cheeks turn red in seconds, quickly reaching to click his speaker off and then dropping his hands in front of the skirt, a desperate attempt at hiding what he’s wearing that they both know isn’t working.

“I got off early, figured I’d bring us some takeout for dinner.” She smiles, patting the still warm box of Chinese food through its plastic bag. Scott’s staring too hard to nod along, his eyes are wide and mouth moving silently.

“Scott, it’s okay, you can go back to singing if you want to.” He has always loved to sing along in the car, that goes all the way back to when he was still sitting in booster seats with a lisp that slurred each lyric he sang out.

“Oh baby-.” Melissa jumps off her chair the moment she hears Scott sniffle, she can’t pull him into her arms any quicker. Her heart aches hearing him cry, clinging his hands to her pink scrub shirt and nuzzling his face into her chest.

“It’s okay Scotty, you look beautiful baby. Shh, it’s okay.” The words repeat too many times to count as Melissa tries to calm Scott down, rubbing her hand down his back in time with the shushing she says softly.

“Mama I- I- .” She cuts him off, pulling his face into her hands and brushing the tears off his cheeks with her thumbs.

“You don’t need to say anything baby, I know, I already know.” Scott’s bottom lip wobbles, as it did when Melissa would pick him up after he scraped his knees falling off his bike on the weekends, holding him to her waist and running her hand through his unruly hair with a kiss to his forehead and promise to fix his knees up. She wishes this was as easy, this can’t be fixed with a Disney princess themed bandaid, all she can do is hold her child close to her and tell him it’ll all be okay, that she’ll always be here for him.

[seeyesee]

[Image ID: A single page two panel digitally drawn and colored comic featuring Eraserhead and Present Mic. In the first panel Eraser and Mic are resting against a gray brick wall. They are both drawn in a more chibi style. Their arms are resting on their knees. Off to the left side behind the building a fire is raging with bright yellow and orange flames. Eraser has a black eye patch with scars peeking out from the top and bottom of the patch. His mouth is open but only his teeth are drawn. He sits on something a pale tan color. Mic sits to his right on what looks to be a black trash bag. A dark trash can is beside him. His face is blank. His orange glasses completely obscure his eyes. Eraser's speech bubble hovers over their heads. It's colored completely purple. The text inside is a darker purple and reads: "I don't think we can mansplain manipulate manwhore our way out of this one...".

The second panel has Mic lifting his left arm, gun in hand, and his mouth open. His speech bubble hovers over their heads. It's colored a pale yellow. The text inside it is black and reads: "Manslaughter it is.". Eraser's mouth is a straight line with slightly puffed cheeks at the corners. The fire continues to rage on in the left side of the frame. The artist's signature is marked on the lower left outside the panel. "Teckmonky" is written in red. /.End ID.]

[bleghbleghladydeath]

*SCREAMS*

TRANSlated from the language of Lady Death, the BLEGH dialect MORE TREE HELP ME PLEASE IT'S INFESTING MY BRAIN

================================================

Jeff growled as he stretched silently. God, he hates this stupid video bullshit The Hooded Man started, it's too early for this shit. The Hooded Man stomped into the room and Sally covered her eyes. He stared for a moment before deciding that it wasn't worth it. He started to play the video, and everyone got very uncomfortable as Jane's screams filled the room. Sally whimpered while Laughing Jack laughed. Jack silently stood there, the spines down his gray back, quivering excitedly as he stared, his black eyes darting around the screen. Sally sniffled and The Masked Man knelt down, hugging her. Jeff rolled his eyes and kicked her in the side. "Shut it before Mr. Big and Scary decides he's done with your whining." Jeff growled.

Sally got quiet as she could while The Hooded Man stared at them all. The video was paused right when Jane dropped, and The Hooded Man looked around at the silent room. "If The Tree rejects a child this week, I will be taking Sally up here next, as you all now, I will not accept failure." The Hooded Man growled.

The Masked Man nodded, and Jeff sighed. "Now than, everyone else, you know what to do, Sally, your coming with me on cleaning duty. Come on." The Hooded Man growled.

He jerked her up off the floor and shoved her out the room. Sally shook as the two walked for The Tree's room. The Hooded Man stopped at a room and came out with a mop and a bucket with water and something strong smelling in it. He had a broom and a trash bag. "You're mopping after I sweep and pick up all the sticks and shit." The Hooded Man grumbled.

Sally nodded. She followed after The Hooded Man silently. Eventually he got uncomfortable with her behind him so he jerked her infront of him.

"Walk faster, and straighten your back, your going to keep getting pushed around if you keep being small." The Hooded Man grumbled.

Sally looked back nervously. The Hooded Man looked down at her and jabbed her in the back. "Keep going." he snapped.

She kept going and stood straight, eventually she went back to slouching, with her head down. The Hooded Man jabbed her in the back again. "Straight, strong." The Hooded Man said.

Sally stood up straight and strong, shaking. Everytime she went to slouch he'd jab her in the back. Eventually she was taking long, strong strides, shoulders back, standing straight and with her chin high. The Hooded Man smiled under his mask and nodded. He stared at her torn and ruined dress. She needs new clothes. Her uncle had raped her and left her in the woods. The Tree sometimes wanders and found her. He took her back here and put her in the hole in his stomach, decided she wasn't to his liking and took her back out, setting her down. She ran off and bumped into Jeff, the worse possible person to run into. Thankfully The Hooded Man was there to quickly get her away before Jeff gave her meth or something. He still hasn't got her fresh clothes; she also hasn't washed. It then fully hit him how disgusting she must feel, every single touch, still not washed. The Hooded Man frowned. He's cruel, would torture a child, but never, ever, would he rape a child, anyone, he has beat Jeff for raping The Masked Man in front of everyone more than once. Beat Laughing Jack for raping one of the children he kidnapped repeatedly. He hates rapists. He decided the child knew too much and was far to broken to go on, so he executed her in her sleep with his gun before burying her in the woods with one of his shirts tied to a branch that he dug into the ground deep. He hummed and sighed. He's literally the only normal looking one of them all besides Habit and The Observer. But Habit and The Observer can't be trusted to go out in public without committing war crimes. So, he's going out to get her fresh clothes. He thought about what she might like, then it hit him, not just posture matures, she's almost fourteen now, she acts younger due to trauma, but if he dresses her a little more aggressively, she might be actually taken seriously. He hummed and soon he was picking up branches while Sally silently and calmly stared at The Tree. The Tree stared back, equally as silent and calm. It reached out and touched her hair with one of its large fingers. Sally tensed but relaxed when it started to play with her hair calmly. The Tree really isn't the cruel one here, sort of, it likes to play, it's just, its idea of playing isn't normal to humans. It then pulled some Spanish moss off its branches and twisted it together before giving it to her. It's about the length of her hair. She stared before smiling. "Thank you." she said.

The Hooded Man smiled under his mask and went to sweeping.

A week later and Sally was being led to the pond silently. She looked at The Hooded Man as he held a bag in his hand, it's from Hot Topic. Sally stared. "Okay, get washed, here's a towel to wrap yourself in." The Hooded Man said.

Sally handed him the Spanish moss The Tree gave her, and he stared. He sighed and went around the corner to give her privacy. Soon Sally called for him. She stood there nervously, her hair is damp, and she's wrapped tight in the towel. The Hooded Man handed her the clothes. Sally took them curiously. "Get dressed, then I'll do your hair." The Hooded Man said.

Sally soon came out. The Hooded Man looked over and froze. She looks fucking scary now. He never realized how sharp her eyes were until she was given a moment to look strong. He had got her some tights, denim shorts that stop halfway down her thigh, knee high combat boots, a black, long-sleeved shirt, black, leather gloves and a black hoodie. Sally smiled and The Hooded Man smiled under his mask. He got a brush out his hoodie pocket and gestured her over. He started to brush through her hair he then remembers the Spanish moss and he hummed. He put her hair in a ponytail with the moss in there to. He then braided her long ass hair and smiled. Sally pulled the braid over her shoulder and smiled.

"Oh, uh, you found the bra, right?" The Hooded Man asked.

Sally nodded.

"Thank you." she said, smiling.

The Hooded Man nodded, "Also, I chose tighter clothing, so you feel more secure. I did research and rapists will go for the easiest victim, tight clothing isn't easy." The Hooded Man said.

Sally hummed. "Makes sense, when I was wearing my dress Johnny could get to every inch of my body without much of an issue.." Sally said.

The Hooded Man tensed at this sentence and nodded. Sally waved and walked away. The Hooded Man nodded and smiled.

He stretched as he walked into the room ready to play the video. Laughing Jack was hiding behind Jeff as Sally yelled at him for messing with her for the hundredth time that day. The Hooded Man smiled under his mask, nodding. Sally shoved Jeff out the way and The Hooded Man silently waited for everything to calm down. Soon Laughing Jack was many feet away from Sally who stood there, arms crossed and back straight, her head high. Jeff glanced over nervously. The Hooded Man started to video and watched the room. Sally glared at the video. Her eyes are narrowed and she's clearly clenching her jaw. She looked at The Hooded Man and he felt that look pierce through him. He nodded at her and she smiled. He likes this confidence boost; it fits her well.

[maxbradley]

[[Mature Content; link to continue reading provided under the text]]

Captivity (2011)

The senior's back was turned away from him when he stepped into the trashed room. Papers, pens and black ink splattered on the walls. The man responsible stood in solitude at the far end, facing a large full-figure mirror. Like every other night, the lighting was dim. A subtle red glow spreading from each corner of the ceiling… "What's going on with you?" void of sympathy. Bradley said nothing, crossed hands and back still to him. His hair stood on end. Perhaps from hours upon hours of tossing and turning during some insomniac spell. Plus, the continuous running of fingers through his scalp out of frustration. The work shirt under his discarded sweater was replaced by a loose-fitting black tank top over ragged, gray jeans. The sophomore drank in the chaotic atmosphere before trudging his way to his sex partner. A clink under his tennis shoe beckoned him to look underneath a scrap of parchment, finding broken glass, and saw glints of it everywhere on the floor. Max was careful not to trip on carelessly draped silk before reaching his destination, "What's the matter, Brad?" Arms wrapped from behind, around his torso, keeping a tantalizing loose grip. Cold lips planted a kiss where the neck met the backbone, "Couldn't go too long without me?" His breathing was near absent. "Did you miss me?" "Get out of here." The once shimmering eyes lost all signs of light, leaving blue to a stone shade. Goof peered over his shoulder and talked to his reflection, "It's not Halloween anymore." The dark eyelids were now accompanied by circles, puffy bags under reddened eyes. Not a drop of liquid. "We don't want you here." "Oh. You're crazier than I thought." The blank expression lowered a brow, "Haven't you done enough?" A hand ran up the jock's chest under the top, and the other got straight to the pleasuring. "I'm sick of this." Incisors bit his ear and nipped at his aching neck. "I'm not. I kinda like you like this. Submissive…" Bradley finally turned around and grabbed at this damned kid's collar,

Captivity - IZZYCHAN13 - A Goofy Movie - Fandom [Archive of Our Own]

[wolfontheloose]

“Jace the Ace.” Ryden’s luminous gray eyes slid to the detective’s waist curiously as the other repositioned the straps and holster that held the weapon. “Wha’choo packin’?” The wolf asked and the answer would determine whether he would whistle out, impressed, or snort out in ridicule. Because a gun in Greywood was a potent weapon only against about 20% of its population, if you’re lucky. Unless it packed specialized firepower.

“No, so feel special, I got a whole day set aside for ya. We’ll drive around, see the sights, I may pay for a cheeseburger and a milkshake… A proper date. Sorry I didn’t bring flowers, dead shit don’t feel romantic t’me.” Unless it was a certain someone but needless to say in this case Ryden was heavily joking while in the other everything would be taken deadly serious. “So! The Plan is, we drive by Cosmic Pizza and Arcade, that shithole’s full o’petty dealers tryna sell buds cheap and yer sort mostly leaves ‘um untouched ‘scept when they may be packin’ a lil extra, if ya know what I mean. Last big drug bust up in dis godforsaken shithole’s happened cus a kid was tryna sell heart-shaped acid drops that turned out t’be laced with fairy dust. Very illegal, big no-no. But ‘ey, ya want a lead cus the narcotics dept’s breathin’ down yer neck, Arcade’s a good start. Shove a twenty to a pimple-faced mouth-breathin’ teen punk gettin’ high on flashin’ lights and he might have an extra brain cell left in ‘um t’let ya know who his source is.”

“Then I say we scout out Club Capricorn. The amount of drama of the physical sort that can happen there honestly humbles a poor pub owner loike me. The shit that can go on there’s intricate. It’s not simply ‘whoops, a beer bottle hit sumone’s head and their excuse is it slipped’. The fuckin’ motives there have their own motives. If life’s a game of Cluedo, it will always be Mr. All the Colors of the Ravebow with a bag o’glitter and a martini glass in Club Capricorn. Solve dat case with a straight face, monsieur Poaro. Then we got the Cyprus Caves, most popular body dumpin’ grounds. Slippery as shit, skippin’ all dem rocks t’git to a bloated wet corpse ya ought t’identify and later on move. Elysium, draws in hungry vamps like trash draws in flies, jus’ follow the smell o’blood and ya can bet a fanger who ate the last Pringle had at one point visited Elysium b’fore they decided they didn’t wanna tip their blood dolls no more.”

“And I’ll only show ya where the Greywood Historic Library is, dats gunna be yer homework, t’go in alone as soon as ya can, flip sum dusty pages o’er, git yerself educated 'n' shit. If it got more words than pictures I fall asleep n’less it’s Stephen King so I’m not settin’ me foot into that buildin’ ‘nless I wanna nap. Then we got the Motel, most o’the newcomers end up there first so if yer called in to check a poor sod in a really bad state that’s got ‘umself locked up in their room and it’s startin’ to seriously stink cus it’s been days but they refuse t’let the cleanin’ lady in, well best ya tell the manager right away that there'll be sum door breakin’ and t’forward the bill to the Sheriff’s office. Wha'ever ya do, there will always be sum destruction o'property, when they grill ya 'bout it, don't argue back. Or cry. Jus' do yer thing and nod. Then we got the Farmer’s Market, the night edition. Boy oh boy, ain’t dat a motherfuckin' Charlie's chocolate factory wonderland on steroids. The shit I’ve seen bein’ sold there. I had a bet with the guy I was with one time and said shit, son, I wanna find talkin’ goat cheese slice smokin’ a cigarette and wearin’ shades while playin’ a trombone and we found it. We fuckin’ found dat shit. Well not really, but it was pretty damn close. Then we’ll go to the Den. That’s my joint. And, much to my shame, full o’narcs. Cus it's fuckin’ full o'tail waggin', attention seekin' lap dogs. Ya need help, come to me, at the Den. I guess.” Ryden concluded with a shrug.

All the while as he talked, practically bombarding Jace with a flurry of information, Ryden guided the police detective out of the station and to the parking lot in the front of the building where a black ‘62 Chevrolet corvette awaited with a hard top panel affixed for the roof considering the winter season, parked between SET vehicles and other, privately owned cars. “How ya doin’ bruv? Still with me?” Ryden asked as he walked over to the car they’ll be cruising around in, not his own vehicle but borrowed from Marsden for convenience sake. "Anyway, where do ya wanna start? I tried listin' places in alphabetic order but I suggest goin' for the most practical route, road-wise. So we ain't trippin' o'er our own exhaust trails."

This town. Goddammit. Was this their idea of a warm welcome? Jace wasn't usually a morning guy but he had to admit that being fed some crazy stories about the supernatural and sacred origins was pushing it a little too far. At least, he thought, he was getting a proper tour, which was more than he could say about his previous job. The guy in charge was a man called Ryden, someone they seemed to trust around these parts and who should be able to show him the ins and outs of every spot in town that mattered. It wasn't a bad idea..especially if he could land a nice cheeseburger for dinner.

Walking around the corner from the office, the male looked up to see his soon-to-be tour guide -a strange looking guy, mind you- and closed off the distance in a couple of strides. "It's Jace. Hi." He offered with a nod. By the looks of it, they were ready to go and so Stone wasted no time in turning them towards the exit as Ryden introduced himself, a hand of his sliding the gun around his waist and towards his back. "Gotcha, gotcha. And yeah, ready as I'll ever be. I hope this isn't too much of a bother. You do this a lot? Tours n' shit?" Man, were those teeth sharp.

[luci-in-trenchcoats]

Thunder In Our Hearts (Part 5)

Summary: The reader and Soldier Boy have settled into a nice routine. But nothing nice can last long for these two and the result will fundamentally change their relationship...

Masterlist

Pairing: Soldier Boy/Ben x reader

Word Count: 3,500ish

Warnings: language, nudity, violence, drug/abuse/sexual assault/torture mentions

A/N: Spoilers for Season 3 of The Boys in this one! My favorite part yet!…

_______

“Benjamin!” you shouted as soon as you walked in the front door. He was jerking off on the couch, at least into a condom this time. He put down the magazine he was holding, an old People magazine from the nineties, page flipped open to some older actress. “Dude! What did I tell you!”

“Mmm, that smells good,” he said, inhaling sharply, his wrist still flicking away. “One sec.”

“Why am I even surprised,” you sighed. You set down the food container on the table and left the large bag of other things you’d bought in the two hours you were gone down on the floor. When you spun around to wash up he was chucking the used condom in the trash before wiping himself off with a paper towel. 

“You were gone awhile,” he said, washing his hands at the sink. You got out a plate for him, Soldier Boy pulling on a pair of loose gray sweats before he took it from you, getting out his own knife and fork. 

“I went and found your drug dealer. Got most of my money back.” You sat down at the table, flipping open the box of fries, eating straight out of it. He stared blankly before sitting down, opening the container filled with a piece of grilled salmon and asparagus.

“Uh, how? I’ve dealt with my share of asshole drug dealers and that guy-”

“I told him you were sober for years and I wasn’t letting you fall off the wagon again. He was really sweet about it actually.” He grinned, eating a bite of fish, humming around it. “I bought you some more clothes. A few books too.”

“Books?” he said with his mouth full. You nodded, eating more of the fries before you got up and went over to the bag.

“I hit a bookstore quick before it closed. Since you don’t know how to use a computer yet, I thought this was easier.” You picked up the large stack, his eyes cautious. “General history, a few on things like misogyny, race, orientation. I grabbed the workbook that goes along with my PTSD book you’ve been reading. I got more out of the book when I did that too. Oh, and I picked up a few action thrillers and a romance for you.”

“You bought me a fucking romance novel?” he scoffed.

“Well they have sex in it. It’s porn in words. Figured you’d appreciate that.” You reached into the bag one more time, shaking your head with a laugh. “Speaking of porn, I got you more lube and condoms.”

“Thank you, darlin’,” he said, scarfing down the fish in big bites. You carried the rectangular box over to the table, setting it down beside him. “Is that what I think it is?”

“A fleshlight? Figured your hand could use a break,” you said, ruffling his hair. “Wash it before you use it. I’m heading to bed.”

“Keep this up and I might start to think you don’t hate me,” he chuckled. You went down the hall to your room, stopping in the doorway to look back at him, Soldier Boy stopping mid-chew to stare back.

“I’ve said a lot of things. Never said I hated you, bud.” He smiled, a soft one, almost seeming unnatural on his face with often he did it as cover for everything else. “Read your books, Ben. They’ll help.”

“Goodnight, Y/N.” 

“You too, old man.”

Two Weeks Later

You’d fallen into a nice routine with Ben. He spent the mornings working on cleaning up the yard or the nearby shed. You’d tasked him with fixing up the landscaping and building a proper back porch, something more usable than the small, falling apart thing that was out there now. In the afternoons you took a break from researching the kills he wanted to make, namely a guy named Butcher and his son, Homelander. Butcher was completely off the grid but it hadn’t taken long to find him. After realizing he was going to be dead within the next few years thanks to some brain disease, Soldier Boy backed off. He knew Homelander was the bigger issue and time would take care of Butcher for him.

Normally he’d make lunch, a simple pair of sandwiches or something similar but he was doing it on his own without any prompting. In the afternoons you left him to his books, sometimes hearing dramatic sighs or questioning hums from his spot on the couch. When he’d get his fill, you’d teach him about things he missed, technology in particular. By then it was time for dinner, the two of you taking turns but Ben always close by to learn. 

Evenings were by and far the most relaxed time of the day, Ben normally wanting to put on an action movie he’d never seen before. Somehow you’d made a little domestic life with arguably the most powerful supe on the planet. And honestly…it was nice.

Ben was a flirt and he still used alcohol and weed too much but he had slowly been backing off of them both. He was reading books without you asking to, bringing up things he’d read in conversation. Mr. Rodgers he was not but he was beginning to understand and tolerate more which hopefully would lead him to being okay with the world he lived in.

“Hey, kid,” he said one night, flipping through your watchlist on Netflix.

“Grandpa,” you said. He pushed on your shoulder when you sat down, gentle enough to only push you over slightly into the cushions. “Do we have to watch action again?”

“I thought you liked them,” he said, handing the remote to you, stopped on Schitt’s Creek. 

“I do but variety is the spice of life,” you said, clicking the select button.

“What’s this about? Is it going to confuse me?” he sighed, slumping down in his seat. 

“It’s funny. You’re gonna love it, trust me.”

It was a few hours later when you were almost through with the first season, Soldier Boy cracking up beside you. You’d never heard him laugh so much, so much lighter sounding than his speaking voice. And in the biggest shocker of all, David was his favorite character.

Maybe the boy was learning after all.

“Come on, one more,” he said when you tried to turn off the TV. He flopped on top of you and grabbed your wrists, grinning as he looked down at you. “We’ll sleep in. Live a little, Y/N.”

“You can’t just pin me down to get what you want,” you said, tossing the remote into the recliner. He pursed his lips before breaking out into a smirk. “Benjamin.”

“You know what I like about you, kiddo? I’m somehow never in charge around you. I like it when someone can keep up with me.” You hummed, smiling to yourself before you wrapped your legs around his waist and rolled down to the floor on top of him. It didn’t hurt him in the slightest and he released you on the way down, Soldier Boy staring up as you patted his cheek.

“You’re never gonna have the upper hand around me, sweetie,” you laughed. You sat up and pulled him to his feet, Soldier Boy smirking still. “No more TV tonight. I was thinking maybe we could go to the hardware store in the morning, you can pick out some landscaping things? You can practice being in public again.”

“You just want me to carry heavy things,” he grinned. You returned it, placing a hand on his muscular bicep. 

“You are more than just a pretty face, aren’t you?” You giggled, taking a step before your feet were off the ground, Soldier Boy carrying you one handed around the couch and down the hall. “Ben! Put me down!”

“Nah,” he laughed, grabbing the TV remote and hitting Netflix back on, holding you around the waist, flush back against his chest. You were literally nothing to him, Ben able to stand there and hold you as long as he pleased. “I’m thinking we watch one more episode.”

“Ben, I’m tired,” you groaned. He flicked off the TV and carried you down to your room, setting you down on top of your bed gently. You smiled, Ben cocking his head. “No one’s ever carried me to bed before.”

“S’because you’ve only ever dated weaklings, Y/L/N.” He winked and you threw a pillow at him, laughing as he ran out of the room. “Night!”

“Night Ben.”

The trip to the store had been going great until you needed to use the bathroom. At which point someone jumped you from behind in the secluded hallway, shot you up with a sedative and you proceeded to wake up with hands bound behind you next to a freshly dug hole.

The sky was dark, rain clouds overhead threatening to pour down and wash you away. You rolled, trying to get your bearings when a boot collided with your shoulder, dislocating it. The sudden sharp pain made you scream out, only interrupted by the flurry of punches that came. 

When your attacker finally let up, you were gasping for air. They grabbed your jacket and forced you to sit up, your eyes wide when you finally got a good look at the man.

“Dylan?” you breathed out. He grabbed your throat, smirking when you whimpered.

“Next time you think you killed someone, you better make sure.” He shoved you down to the ground, the side of his head shaved and revealing a long stitch. You shut your eyes, Dylan chuckling. “Yeah. You only grazed me a few weeks back. You should have shot me in the face. Now-”

“Dylan don’t,” you said, whining when he pressed on your shoulder.

“Now you’re gonna wish you’d done the job right. Don’t worry. You’re going to get a lesson real soon.” You forced your eyes open, spitting out blood onto the ground. “You should have kept your mouth shut.”

“You turned on me!” you shouted, Dylan leaning down to get in your face. Your bottom lip wobbled, the face of the kind man you’d once thought you’d loved gone. There’d always been something you didn’t fully trust with him. You thought it was the darkness in him. 

Turns out he was just working for the other side.

“I was assigned to make sure you didn’t tell anyone what the general did. By any means necessary. All those conversations about when we left the service, a family? I never wanted that shit. I was playing you for years, you dumb fuck. No one wants the broken girl,” he said, lips brushing over your ear. He sucker punched you in the gut, smiling when you curled into a ball. “But seeing as my boss is dead and my gravy train is gone, no thanks to you, it seems our relationship has hit another roadblock. I don’t think we’re getting past this one either.”

He stood and you watched him walk over to his truck, grabbing his gun from the glove compartment. It hung by his side as he walked closer, his head cocking.

“You should have kept your damn mouth shut.” You squeezed your eyes shut, a plink noise happening nearby. There was no sudden hot pain of a bullet though. No warm wave of peacefulness or nothingness so you were sure you weren’t dead.

Your eyes flashed open, a wall of dark green in front of you. It took a moment to realize it was moving, a pair of thick muscular thighs and a back with a star etched into the vest. The pointed shield was providing cover as he knelt in front of you, slowly rising to his feet.

“Soldier Boy,” croaked out Dylan. In less than a second Soldier Boy was on him, pining him down with one hand, resting dangerously over his throat. 

“You’re the boyfriend.” He pressed his finger against Dylan’s healing scar, Soldier Boy lifting him straight up and tossing him to the side. Dylan shouted when he hit the ground, Soldier Boy on top of him in a flash, straddling his body. “What kind of pathetic man betrays the woman he loves like you did? Real men protect. They care about their partner.”

He slammed his fist down, Dylan gasping before it went quiet. When he stood you saw the dent in where Dylan’s face used to be, now a gaping wide hole. You closed your eyes and shivered in the cool air, the sound of Ben’s heavy footfalls stopping close by. By the time you had the energy to open them, Ben was carrying you into the house, both of you wet from the rain that’d broken free from the skies.

He sat you on the kitchen counter and removed your shirt, inhaling sharply when it was gone.

“Deep breath,” he murmured. You didn’t want to know what he was about to do. You didn’t have the energy for it. You inhaled, his hands on your shoulder and popping your shoulder back into place. 

“Ah, fuck, fuck,” you whined, lowering your head and burying it in the solid chest in front of you.

“I know. I know. I have to clean you up and try to wrap your ribs.” Deep purple bruises littered your side from you’d been hit. It didn’t feel broken at least. 

Soldier Boy let you rest your head on him, deft hands tightly wrapping a bandage around your body. With shaking hands you gripped the counter’s edge, eyes squeezed shut as you tried to force the pain to dissipate. 

Something went over your head, eyes peeling open slowly to see one of his shirt’s you’d bought for him now shredded and tied together to use as a makeshift sling. Carefully he place your forearm in the shirt opening, fingers lingering on your arm.

He was quiet as he cleaned your face, wiping away dried blood, disinfecting the scuffs on your cheek. You knew you had a black eye, half your face in a bruise. Your eyes were locked onto his chest plate the entire time, unable to look him in the eye.

“You’re all set,” he mumbled. You nodded, a gentle touch turning your chin up. 

His face was unreadable.

“I’m sorry you had to save me,” you whispered. He touched his forehead to your own, a quiet chuckle escaping past pink lips. It sounded sad though, your eyes meeting his when it died off. For a few seconds, no one moved. There was only the sounds of breathing in the still room.

Then your lips were touching, Ben’s beard tickling your jaw, his hand cupping your uninjured cheek, thumb brushing over soft skin. 

You were expecting a dirty kiss. The kind of kiss you gave when you wanted someone’s body. The kind of kiss that said pure sex and nothing more.

You were not prepared for the softness behind his kiss. The slowness. The quiet hunger as your breath mixed together. 

He pulled back too soon, your head going a million miles an hour. He let out a deep breath, thumb still stroking over your skin. He was so close, so god damn close, his body caging yours in, like a protective shield.

“Never,” he breathed out, nose bumping yours as his chest rose and fell. “Never apologize for me saving you. Never, kiddo. Promise me.”

“Promise,” you said, voice barely making a sound. He nodded, moving your head with his. 

And then he was backing away, putting the supplies into the cupboards, throwing out the trash. He scooped you up and carried you into the bathroom, setting you on the tub’s edge, and leaving before you could say a word. 

He was scared about losing his lifeline to the outside world. That’s all that kiss had been, all those soft touches as he took care of you. 

That’s what you told yourself as you undressed and scrubbed yourself clean. That’s how it had to be. He was an asshole. Attractive and maybe he had saved your life and maybe he was trying to be a better person but he was an asshole. You were a woman. You were always going to be less than him in his eyes, right?

You swallowed when you left the bathroom and went into your room, your pajamas laid out on the bed for you already, an extra blanket sat on top along with a glass of water and pain medication.

Oh fuck.

Oh fuck no. Your asshole supe was not turning into a decent guy. No way. Not so fast. He wanted sex and that was it. That was…actually, that was the perfect plan.

If you went into his room right now and asked for a quickie, he’d say yes and prove you right. 

“Soldier Boy,” you called, walking across the hall a few minutes later in nothing but underwear and one of his shirts you’d stolen from the laundry. 

“Yeah?” he said as you opened the door, Ben sat with his back to it, staring out his dark window, watching the raindrops roll down.

“It’s been a long day and I could use some relief. I was-”

“No.” You stopped mid-step and blinked.

“It doesn’t have to be actual sex. I’ll return the favor,” I said. Ben looked over his shoulder, his face scrunched up.

“I said no. You’re hurt. Now go to bed and rest.”

“What about when I’m not hurt? Would you-” He stood up, instantly in front of you, Ben’s strong torso on full display, his flannel pants brushing against your thighs he stood so close.

“Back in my day when you kissed a girl like that, and she kissed you back like that, she normally didn’t look mortified when you opened your eyes.” You looked down, Ben’s hot breath fanning over your face. “I like you, Y/N. You infuriate me and it’s so fucking aggrivating trying to learn all this shit and genuinely change my feelings. It’s hard. Did you ever think the only reason I’m trying at all is because I don’t want you to be mortified after you kiss me? I know you don’t like who I am but part of you does. The part of you that doesn’t put up a bullshit strong front likes the part of me that doesn’t do that same exact thing. So I am sorry but no, I will not do anything with you, I won’t even touch you, until I’m that man you want me to be. The next time I kiss you, you’re not going to think I’m a monster, got it? You’re going to enjoy it because you and me, we don’t fuck each other over. We’re brutally honest with each other and have each other’s backs. Until that day, let’s forget this ever happened.”

You lifted your head, Ben’s face pained. You nodded, his body turning away as you caught his bicep. He looked back, body tensing when you slid a hand up to his cheek and pulled him down into a kiss.

It was short, a few seconds of heat, of slow movement. He looked horribly confused when you pulled back with a smile, cupping his cheek.

“Today, you told Dylan what I said to you, about being a real man. You listen to me and I see you trying to be better yet somehow I’m the one keeping a stereotype of you. So do not apologize to me, Ben. I was trying to prove to myself that you aren’t as good as you seem and you proved me wrong. I’m so sorry for that.”

“We’re both highly fucked up people. I think we’re allowed a few fucking missteps,” he said with a forced laugh. He cast his eyes downward, breathing slowly. “I’m not that man yet. I shouldn’t have kissed you. I thought…you were looking at me-”

“I don’t want to forget that kiss. For a few seconds, I forgot all about today.” You moved your hand down to his, grabbing it loosely. “I’m tired and so are you. Let’s just go to bed.”

He nodded, pausing when you didn’t let go of his hand and instead pulled him to walk with you across the hall to your room. You dropped it when you crawled under the covers, Ben standing there staring at you. You nodded to the other side, Ben sliding underneath the blankets, careful of your bad shoulder. 

“Are you sure?” he asked. 

“I don’t want to be alone tonight.” You reached behind yourself and took his arm, sliding it over your waist. He tugged you back to his bare chest, such a strong yet gentle hold on you and you’d never felt more safe in your life. “Goodnight Ben.”

“Night kiddo.”

________

A/N: Read Part 6 here!