#id like to thank sour patch kids

[yutamayo]

Kill yourself

Ngl I'm kinda getting a lil turned on

Believe it or not this is actually my first ever kys anon!! I finally made it y'all. We in the big leagues now boys 🙏🏽❤️

[baby-alien11]

being the good girl dating Ethan Morales

Since the beggining of high school, well even before that, you were known as the girl who never got in trouble, got good grades and never went to parties, you were always invited, but never attended due to being occupied with school

You use to hang out with Devi, Eleanor and Fabiola because they were nice and study hang outs were always fun

Because of your personality and calmed aura, everyone expected you to date someone similar to you

So, when at the beggining of senior year you and Ethan Morales entered the school holding hands, everyone lost their minds, even the teachers

Theories started to fload almost inmediatly, some said that he lost a bet, others that it was a joke, some that you entered your rebel phase

But in reality, everything was real

Things started during summer when the both of you encounter at a night at a 7/11 where you went to get some snacks for the week, Ethan was there but getting some beers with his fake id

Unfortunately that night, you somehow forgot to take your wallet with you, and in a weird turn of events Ethan who was behind you in the line, pay for your snacks

"So, what's the princess doing this late out of her castle?", Ethan asked before you could leave, "What happened to the guardian dragons?"

"They are out of town", you responded knowing that he was refering to your parents, "And don't call my parents that"

"That doesn't respond my first question"

"I run out of my secret snacks and didn't want to wait until tomorrow"

"In that case, let me see what I just pay"

Without asking for permition, Ethan just started to dig into the bag until he pulled out a package of Sour Patch Kids

"Those are my favourites", you shrugged

"Mines too", Ethan smiled

In response, you also smiled feeling comfortable with him

That was the beggining of a friendship that evolute to a relationship

Even if the school found the relationship weird, you and Ethan were happy with each other

Thanks to you, he started to get better notes at school

And your spanish got better thanks to him

Heaven by Julia Michaels was your official relationship song

If someone ever think of messing with you, the next day or even sooner, the person will have something damaged

While you liked to wear some of his clothes like sweatshirts, frannels or shirts, he liked to wear your scrunchies and hair ties, your accesories like necklaces, bracelets and even some of your earings

Surprisingly, your parents loved him

At first they weren't so sure about the whole thing because of his bad boy look, but after seeing how happy both of you were, they started to accept it

Even if your parents kinda like him, both of you liked when they weren't in town because that meant Ethan spent all of that time in your house

Sex with him was amazing, and got better every single time

When your birthday arrived, he gifted you a Sour Patch plushie that somehow found online

You found that so sweet because it represented the first interaction between you two

He was the kind of guy that would do anything for you, even if it includes let you do a skin care routine on him or watch your favorite show or movie, doesn't matter how corny it is

[wabatle]

Hii could I request October 7th with itoshi rin for sour patch kids? Thank you ! ^.^

「 ✦ Flufftober Day 7: Rin Itoshi ✦ 」

☽｡⋆Genre: Sour patch kids (angst to comfort)

☽｡⋆ Warnings: Rin is highkey really mean, gets ooc towards the end

☽｡⋆ Contains: gn!reader, angst, comfort

Rin had just had a stressful match. It's not like he had lost, no, but there were players— on both teams— that were annoying. He wanted to crash down and fall asleep but you just had to bother him. Unlucky you.

“Welcome home, Rin.”

“Mhm.”

“I made dinner. How was your match?”

“Fine. I'm not hungry.”

“Oh, but you should eat.”

“I said, I'm not hungry.”

“Rin���”

“You're so overbearing. Just leave. There's no reason for you to be pestering me when I'm perfectly fine. Leave.”

His words practically stabbed you in the heart, so you left. You left two full plates of food on the table, to be neglected by the two who were supposed to eat them.

The next morning, you phone rang, flashing Rin's caller ID.

Groggily, you answered. “Hello…?”

“Where are you?” He asked.

“Home.”

“Come back.”

“No. You told me to leave.”

“But I want you here now. I was an idiot, I know. Please come back.”

You paused. You've never heard Rin so desperate.

“Let me apologize in person.” He interrupted your thoughts.

“...Okay. Come here, then.”

“On my way.”

In around ten minutes, Rin showed up at your door with a bouquet of your favorite flowers. “I'm sorry. Please forgive me.” He offered them to you. “These are your favorite, right…?”

You smiled slightly and took them. You decided it was clear to you that Rin was apologetic, and he truly did care.

He relaxed a bit. “I need you, (name). Please don't leave me.”

Your smile grew.

“Did you… want to go get breakfast?” Rin asked nervously, avoiding your gaze.

“Sure.”

☽｡⋆ I wrote this at school

☽｡⋆ Flufftober event

[murdrdocs]

celeste I’m dying and need help (this is super fucking long I’m actually so sorry)

so this guy that I’ve been friends with since literally 8th fucking grade likes me and asked me to go out with him but I don’t like him back but I’m too scared to reject him because I’m the type of person to feel AWFUL if I hurt someone’s feelings. Everyone tells me that it’s not my problem and that I shouldn’t feel bad but like I CANT.

I really wished I liked him bc he’s super sweet and literally said he’d buy me sour patch kids and give them to me when we go out (but I feel bad when people buy things/do nice things for me too) and I’ve been trying to give him so many hints by either straight up avoiding him when he asks me out (this is all over text btw) and I also told him “if I wanted sour patch kids, yk id get them myself. plus I feel bad when people buy things for me” and he’s like persistent on it.

and to make it worse, he got rejected by a different girl a few months ago and literally cried. me and my friends (cause he’s in our friend group) were like “comforting him” (basically telling him she wasn’t worth his time bc she was kinda rude abt rejecting him) and stuff like that, so I don’t wanna hurt him again.

he knows I had a toxic ex but doesn’t know the full extent, and bc of that ex, I’ve literally not had a crush since him bc he traumatized me.

anyways I genuinely tried summarizing this super quick but I’m sorry it got so long, I understand if you don’t want to respond/read the whole thing, but if you do then thank you!!! <333 (sorry for any spelling or grammar mistakes I’m just panicking rn and my autocorrect is working overtime)

-‼️

okay i'm gonna give it to u so straight: u gotta bite the bullet man. i get that ur empathetic but think abt this, if u do go out w him your feelings are most likely not going to change. then you'll be stuck, eventually he'll figure out/find out that u don't rlly like him. and it'll be a massive gigantic shit of a mess.

it sucks and it can be a sticky situation but the only way you'll get out of it is by being honest and putting ur foot down so to speak. plus it'll suck for a little while but if he's a good and true friend, he'll eventually move on and you guys will be just Friends again. and you can't be upset abt it forever like actually. you'll feel bad for a little while but eventually your body/mind will do what it needs to and you'll be okay again.

as for going abt it, avoidance neverrrr works in my experience. (been there trust) you have to tell him straight up that u dont want him. and if he is still persistent, then that's a major red flag (also trust me) and u do not want that in ur life.

also also, ppl get hurt unfortunately that is a part of life. if u don't hurt him, someone else will (sounds bad but it's true) and u aren't responsible for other ppl's feelings/how they react. all u can do is live ur truth and look out for no. 1.

anyway i hoped this helped? i am ... not the best at giving advice pertaining to men/guys/boy species without being a bitch abt it but i truly did try to set aside my erm ... dislike to help u. but get other advice too and ultimately go w ur gut (and ur head be logical but not too logical)

[crazycookiecrumbles]

Hi there! I got around to reading everything you have for tasm peter parker and for johnny storm, and then I got to thinking…how would these two act around each other and having a crush on the same person (aka one of your stark readers)?? And would reader just be amused?? Would she struggle with choosing between them two??? 😱

Something for the Crumble!Verse. Oh, how I love this one.

For this, we'll be using The Stark!Reader from my Frank Castle Series: A Terrible Taste in Pizza. I think she'd be a real treat for this; Johnny Storm; and we'll use TaSM! Parker:

A Trio of Terror

Johnny Storm x Stark!Reader x Tasm!Peter Parker

Johnny wants what he wants and Johnny gets what he wants.

When he sets his eyes on our Stark!Reader, said eyes basically turn into two giant saucers and he's on a fastlane directly towards her.

The competition comes when one Peter Parker also sets his sights on you, and he's just as smitten.

The two find you at the same time, on the same day, at the same Avenger's Day celebration in Midtown Manhattan.

Peter's taking pictures for a little extra side cash, Johnny's there to have pictures taken of him, and get a few numbers of the Ironettes.

It all changes when they both see you.

Johnny is hot on your trail. He knows who you are, but he's never actually seen you in person, and he likes what he sees.

"Y/N Stark, pleasure to meet you. Name's Johnny Storm, you can call me Torch."

"Ew," you grimaced. "I thought the whole 'stupid playboy' thing was an act. This....this is disappointing."

You left with a pat on his shoulder and a remark to step up his game. Johnny spun around in surprise to watch you walk away. He liked a challenge.

Meanwhile, Peter slammed into you and was a stuttering mess of an apology, blushes, and struggling between taking your picture or leaving you alone.

"That's okay," you stared at his press badge, "Parker. Peter Parker? I like your work. You take great pictures of Spider-Man."

"T-thank you, Ms. Stark," Peter swallowed the lump in his throat. "Id' love to take a great picture of you, actually, for the uh, the press. You know, the uh, the, the paper."

Your smirk resembled a cheshire cat and Peter could feel himself falling through different realities as he stared at you and wondered what level of sour patch kid you were: sour or sweet?

"I bet you would, pretty boy." You spun around quickly and struck a pose, "Eat your heart out."

"I am," he squeaked as he took your photo.

"See you around, Parker," you winked. "And tell Spider-Man I said hi."

Oh, he would. He definitely, truly would.

Johnny would see the interaction between you and this random dweeb, and he knew he had it in the bag. He was the Human Torch, what was some little dork with a camera going to have that he didn't have?

"Hey, Stark," Johnny caught up to you and walked backwards in front of you as you kept it moving. "You, me, Cipriani -- "

"Cipriani is overrated."

"Lady's choice, then."

"Jacob's Pickles, Tuesday, 7:00. You need a reservation."

"Done," Johnny said. "Then after, you can be the dessert."

You laughed loudly, "Hey, I doubt it."

Johnny did not feel threatened by the prospects of some camera boy now that he had secured a date.

What he didn't expect was just days after his date with Stark, that Spider-Man would be hanging around her too.

The two were spotted when Spider-Man saved her from being crushed by a car that had flipped down Broadway because of a particularly angry mechanical Rhino.

Spider-Man saved the day, and the girl, and was casually leaning on the wall beside you, who was clearly smitten by the spandex-clad hero.

It was worse for Johnny when people started to post Twitter photos of you casually ordering dumplings standing next to Spider-Man, who was soon becoming distracted by bending down to take photos with kids.

Johnny was so angry.

Spider-Man, our boy Peter, was so happy. He was happy that his hypothesis of getting close to you by using Spider-Man seemed to be working.

But now Human Torch was starting to get in the way.

If Spider-Man was spotted anywhere near Stark Tower or you, Human Torch was flying in and crashing it by being a third wheel.

If Johnny Storm was seen on a date with Y/N Stark, Spider-Man was coincidentally stopping a crime nearby and dropping in on their dates.

It was a back and forth between the two of trying to ruin the other's date with you caught in the middle. They were always trying to outdo the other one.

To be honest, you didn't hate it.

I mean, really, you got so much food out of it.

But they were growing tiresome, it was a constant back and forth and now you weren't even getting to finish these meals because they kept interrupting each other!

Their fighting over you took a turn one day when they nearly started to physically fight each other in the middle of the street.

"Enough! God, this was so fun until you had to be such men about it," you snapped. "Johnny, you need to learn I'm not just a conquest for you. Spider-Man, I," you sighed. "I don't even know you, really, and I'm being very respectful by not doing my research and figuring out who you are in ten minutes, but this shit we've all got going on? Has to stop. The fun is over and now it's just exhausting."

It did nothing to stop Spider-Man and Johnny Storm from being at odds with each other. Their quips were something fierce, and the two made sure to emasculate the other at any moment.

You, however, sat back and watched the show. These two were absolute idiots.

In the back of your mind, however, you did wonder how that photographer you met was doing.

A/N: Hope that was okay!

[bumble-beans]

Great Comet Incorrect Quotes Because I Havent Slept In 3 Days

Dolokhov: how do you feel about this? About us?

Anatole: uhh *checks mood ring* I feel green I guess

---------------------------------

Mayra: *looking into the camera* and here we have the endangered species known as helene

Helene: *falls down the stairs, spilling her cereal everywhere*

Mayra: natural selection is coming for this one

---------------------------------

Natasha: do you think sour patch kids get lonely without their parents?

Pierre: this is exactly why I married you

---------------------------------

Mayra: you two better have a good explanation for this

Dolokhov: we have 3 actually

Anatole: pick your favorite

---------------------------------

Mary: do you think I could fit 10 marshmallows in my mouth

Mayra: you are a hazard to society

Anatole: and a coward.. do 20

---------------------------------

Sonya: *sips tea* I’m tired

Pierre: oh really? Me t-

Sonya: TIRED OF YOUR BULLSHIT OOOOHHHHH— I am so sorry

Pierre: *holding back tears* it’s fine-

---------------------------------

Pierre: please don’t ask but I need a human skull

Dolokhov: as long as you don’t ask why *pulls 4 pristine skulls out of a box* which one do you want

Pierre:

Pierre: this one will do

---------------------------------

Anatole: I am completely straight

Helene: *gestures to dolokhov*

Dolokhov: *waves*

Anatole: *inhale* ooh GAY GAY GAY GAY GAY GAY GAY-

---------------------------------

{Pierre & Mayra interrogating Anatole}

Natasha: I really love this good cop bad cop thing you have going on

Pierre: Its not really a thing, its more like Im nice and Mayra is terrifying

---------------------------------

Anatole: I didnt want to have to do this but I know one way we could make Andrey forgive us for everything

Mayra: Youd make a decent prostitute

Anatole: *offended* Id make an AMAZING prostitute

---------------------------------

Helene: Its my god-given bisexual right to be dramatic!

---------------------------------

Natasha: Cousin dear can I ask you a question? You dont have to answer-

Sonya: Nat, you once caught me sneaking out of Mayras kitchen in the middle of the night half naked with a biscuit in my mouth, we have no secrets. aSk YoUr DaMn QuEsTiOn

---------------------------------

Sonya: I like your pants

Mary: Thanks, they were 50% off

Sonya: I prefer them 100% off ;)

Mary: well the store cant just sell free stuff-

Sonya: no I meant-

Mary: thats a horrible way to run a business Sonya

---------------------------------

Pierre: treat spiders the way you want to be treated

Dolokhov: killed without hesitation

Everyone: F E D Y A N O

---------------------------------

Anatole: *opens a caprisun* guess Ill drink my sorrows away

---------------------------------

Pierre: Give me some words of encouragement so I dont kill Anatole right now

Dolokhov: There are no books in prison

---------------------------------

Natasha: *to mary* would you like to stay for dinner?

Sonya: *in the distance* WOULD YOU LIKE TO STAY F O R E V E R

---------------------------------

Mayra: I love you

Helene: why tho

---------------------------------

Pierre: *texting dolokhov* fedya theres a possum in the house fedya what do I do

Dolokhov: uhm uhm play dad

Pierre:

Dolokhov: DEAD** I MEAN DEAD PLAY DEAD!! P I E R R E

Pierre:

Dolokhov:

Pierre: he can ride a bike now

---------------------------------

Dolokhov: swear words are illegal now. If you say one you’re in big trouble

Sonya: heck

Dolokhov: you’re on thin fucking ice buddy

Dolokhov:

Dolokhov: o h n o

---------------------------------

Anatole: we would make bomb ass lesbians

Dolokhov: agreed

[they fist bump]

---------------------------------

Natasha: you shouldn’t be using a straw-

Anatole: I know I know it’s like bad for the environment or whatever

Natasha: no it’s just a really weird way to eat spaghetti

---------------------------------

Anatole: *says something stupid*

Pierre: really? Right in front of my bagel?

---------------------------------

Pierre: do you have a bag I could use?

Anatole: *imitating pierre* the only bags I have are the ones under my eyes and they’re specifically designed to carry the burden of my existence

Pierre: literally all you had to do was say no

--------------------------------- that is all. Thank you for your time

(help I wasn’t kidding about the sleep thing)

[hailing-stars]

@febuwhump day 16: broken bones

such a softie 

summary

“Told you it was disgusting,” says Tony, as Peter pulls the metal bar and flushes the toilet.

“Shut up,” says Peter. His voice was so weak and miserable, Tony felt a stab of guilt.

“Feeling better?” he asks. He reaches out, and covers his forehead with his hand. “You feel a little warm.”

“I’m fine,” says Peter. “Let’s go back and watch the film.”

“Kid,” says Tony. “You’re clearly sick. We’ll go home, and you can rest, and we’ll come back when you’re better. It isn’t like we have to see this one tonight.”

OR

Peter develops a sickness at the movies, and Tony attempts to make him feel better.

“Parker,” says Tony.

They’re standing outside of the movie theater, their planned meeting destination, and Tony doesn’t think he can make it through the double doors without asking about what’s hanging on the boy’s arm.

“Please explain that hideous purse.”

“Oh,” says Peter. He tugs on the strap. “It’s May’s movie purse.”

It’s said with a tone that implies Tony should’ve already known this information, and as if that one, short sentence is enough to properly explain why the hell Peter has it and why it’s so ugly.

“And you’ve brought it out into the light of day because…”

“Because,” stresses Peter, “it’s tradition. It might not be fashionable, but it’s absolutely the best purse to sneak snacks into the theater. It’s got so many pockets!”

“You brought that to carry snacks?” asks Tony, unimpressed. “You realize they have a concession stand, right?”

“You’re rich so you don’t understand,” Peter tells him. “You gotta sneak snacks from the dollar store, Mr. Stark, or you’ll pay seven dollars just for a coke.”

“Uh huh,” says Tony. He slings an arm around Peter, and together, they start towards the entrance. “And since, as you so wisely just pointed out, I’m a literal billionaire, you didn’t stop to think I’d buy the snacks?”

“It’s the principle. Five dollars for a box of Sour Patch Kids is robbery.”

Tony laughs as they step inside the building. They purchase their tickets, have them checked at the end of the roped line, and step into the open area. The (apparently) evil concession stand is in front of them. Tony starts in that direction when Peter grips his arm to stop him.

“It’s my money, Pete -”

“Wait,” says Peter. The boy closes his eyes, and Tony sighes. He recognizes that goofy expression. He knows he’s about to get some kind of melodramatic speech. “Do you smell that?”

Tony humors him, and inhales the aroma of buttery popcorn. “Yep. That’d be the popcorn you refuse to let me buy.”

“Not just popcorn,” says Peter. “It’s the movie magic smell.”

“Christ,” says Tony. “I wish May would’ve told me you transformed into a strange little gremlin once you walked through the theater doors.”

Tony continues towards the concession stand, where Peter manages to violate his principles and uses Tony’s credit card to buy a large popcorn, a large Cherry Coke, assorted candy boxes, a package of chocolate chip cookies and a soft pretzel with a cup of cheese sauce.

He proves his original point quite well, when, between the two of them, they order enough food to charge over a hundred dollars to his card.

They haul all the food to their seats, and Tony thinks maybe they should’ve paid for an extra seat just for all the kid’s snacks. It’s a ridiculously large amount of food. If it were anyone else but Peter, Tony would’ve doubted they’d eat it all.

Peter Parker is a garbage disposal that never gets full. He’s devoured the pretzel and starts tearing open the package of cookies before the previews even begin.

Out of the corner of Tony’s eye, he watches as the kid does the most reprehensible thing he’s ever seen. He dunks the chocolate chip cookie in the cheese sauce and eats it.

Tony releases a long sigh. “Kid, that is literally one of the most disgusting things I’ve seen you do. Please do not -”

“-You wanna try it, Mr. Stark?”

“Absolutely not.”

“Seems boring, but okay.”

“If I were boring,” says Tony, “I wouldn’t be chaperoning you to this R rated film.”

Peter rolls his eyes. “Like I don’t have a fake ID.”

“Excuse me what?”

“I said good,” says Peter. “Because I don’t have a fake ID, so thank you.”

“Uh huh,” says Tony, just as the lights begin to dim and the previews start to plan, temporarily saving Peter from an interrogation Tony schedules for later.

Parenting is rough, and teenagers are like a different species of human altogether. He’s dreading Morgan’s teenage years, but at least he’s got Peter to prepare him for it, to give him a trial run.

*

The previews end, and something’s glitching out the kid.

He’s gripping the armrests tight. He’s grimacing, and for a few seconds, Tony’s convinced Peter is holding his breath. He’s just about to ask him if he’s alright when Peter stands, and bolts, fleeing the auditorium with that ugly purse strapped on his shoulder.

Tony pauses, waits a few seconds, before deciding he’d better follow him and make sure everything’s okay.

He finds Peter in the bathroom, with his knees on the floor and his head over the toilet, puking his guts out.  

“Told you it was disgusting,” says Tony, as Peter pulls the metal bar and flushes the toilet.

“Shut up,” says Peter. His voice was so weak and miserable, Tony felt a stab of guilt.

“Feeling better?” he asks. He reaches out, and covers his forehead with his hand. “You feel a little warm.”

“I’m fine,” says Peter. “Let’s go back and watch the film.”

“Kid,” says Tony. “You’re clearly sick. We’ll go home, and you can rest, and we’ll come back when you’re better. It isn’t like we have to see this one tonight.”

“Maybe it is,” says Peter. He wobbles, and has to lean against the slimy, gross bathroom wall to steady himself. “This might be our last chance! There could be a pandemic that shuts down everything and threatens to topple the theater industry forever.”

“Pete that’s not going to happen, not even in our universe,” says Tony. “You watch too many science fiction films.” He pulls Peter away from the wall and leads him out of the bathroom. “Besides, we’ve got Bruce Banner. No pandemic would stand a chance, and it’s about time he start putting those seven PHDs to use.”

“Fine,” says Peter. “But we’re coming back to the theater as soon as I stop puking my guts out.”

“Deal.”

*

They spend the night in the bathroom.

Peter throws up so much Tony starts to worry, though there’s not much he can do except look on in pity and offer the occasional back rub of support.

After Peter finishes a brutal episode of puking, he flushes the toilet and wipes his face with a strip of toilet paper.

“I think I broke a rib that time,” he mutters.

“If you broke bones puking, that’d truly be a record, kid.”

“Might as well get something from this misery,” he tells him.

Peter looks at him with glossy eyes and a face pale with sickness and with sweat. He appears much younger right then, as if Tony’s peering into the past, and Peter’s pain hits him much harder in that moment.

Tony’s struck with this strange urge to make the whole world right just for him. He considers going backwards in time again, only this time just a few hours back, just to slap that damned cookie and cheese sauce from the kid’s hand.

“I’m sorry you got so sick, bud.”

“That’s okay,” says Peter. “I think I’m done puking… at least I hope. Just wanna lay down.”

“How about this,” says Tony. “We’ll get you in your bed, all nice and cozy, and I’ll bring you some Gatorade and some crackers, annnddd a trash can. Just in case.”

“Sounds good,” says Peter, and he tries to smile, but it gets twisted into a grimace.

Tony helps Peter to his bed, and tucks him in. He brings him the things he thinks will make him feel better, but somehow, it doesn’t seem like enough, and Tony’s still pondering a way to make things right for him, even after the boy’s eyes close and he drifts off to sleep.

Finally, he thinks of something that still isn’t enough, but will at least put a proper smile on the kid’s face.

*

Tony finishes setting up the screen along the wall opposite of the bed just as Peter nods awake. He sits up slowly, and rubs his eyes.

“Mr. Stark,” he says. “What’s that?”

“The theater,” says Tony. “I’ve brought it to your bedroom.”

Peter laughs. “You’re such a softie.”

“Shut your mouth or I won’t tell you the best part.”

It’s the first time in Peter’s life he manages to be quiet. Tony switches on the projector, and the opening credits play for the movie they had been trying to watch before the Cheese Cookie Illness had taken control of their evening.

“No way!!” says Peter.

“I know it isn’t the same -”

“-are you kidding?” asks Peter, his face lit with a grin. “This is so awesome!”

Tony’s chest flutters with something like pride. It’s a good, warming feeling, to see the strange gremlin Peter return, and maybe the best part, Tony doesn’t even need a time machine to achieve it.

[e1derberry]

hiii nana i just ate some gummy frogs and just found out it’s peach flavored…i was like omg no wonder why i like this sm like peach flavored candy is one of my favorites (i also looove peach rings so yummy <3). do you have any fav candies?? also i hope work’s going well for you and that you get home safely ❤️

ooooo peach ringgggs i love them sm but id have so say my all-time favorite candy is watermelon sour patch kids!! theyre just so satisfying and perfectly sour!!! gummy frogs sound rly interesting tho i would just want to hold one...

work is going ok!! i work at a gallery and were prepping for the next show, but ive just been sitting at the desk which ill be doing until close:-/

thank u bestieeeee<3

[keelywolfe]

FIC: Safety In Numbers (SpicyHoneyMustard, lemon)

Summary:  Red knows how to play the game. The only problem is, not everyone gets out unscathed.

Tags: SpicyHoneyMustard, Fontcest, Fellcest, Sibling Incest, Threesome, Background Kustard, Established Relationship, Possessive Behavior, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, LEMONY GOODNESS!!, Unhealthy Relationship, Unnamed Ship

Sequel to:

Showtime

Secret Garden

A Judicious Amount of Effort

Musically Inclined

Lest You Be Judged

Solo Act 

Appealing To Better Judgment

~~*~~

Read it on AO3

or

Read it here!

~~*~~

Refuge.

That was what Toriel named the protected Monster settlement that rose up at the base of the mountain, for all the Monsters who either couldn’t or wouldn’t live in Ebott.

Red supposed if there was nothing else, they could all thank her for sparing them from whatever dumb shit Ass-gore would’ve called it, like New New Home.

Despite all the treaties and negotiations, there were plenty of Monsters still living there. Some found that once they set their feet on the grass, they were about as far away from the mountain as they cared to get. Some were plain afraid to live out amongst the Humans. And a fair few simply weren’t allowed to leave, their little laminated ID cards didn’t grant them clearance through the front gate. Monsters with LV, Monsters with an appearance that might be considered disturbing. Any Monster likely to hit a ten on the Human freak-o-meter wasn’t allowed out not yet, anyway. Made sense, really. If they scared the shit out of the Humies by going too fast, they’d be lucky if they only ended up chased back beneath the mountain and not used as potting soil.

Try telling that to the dumbfucks, though. Red kept an ear hole close to the ground for any incoming gossip and from what was coming down the line it looked like the Assholes of Asgore were using it as a recruiting point. Red suspected that they didn’t have only have the interest of one or two disgruntled folks.

Anyone with half a lick of sense should see through their bullshit, but if Red was supposed to count on any of the dipshits he knew underground having common sense, he might as well shove a bone through his own soul now and spare anyone else the trouble of dusting him.

Their real goal was to start the bloody war Asgore promised them all and if they managed it, well, it was gonna be a pretty damn short one. Magic was handy dandy, all right, but the Humans kinda outnumbered them a million to one. Hell, while they’d been down below twiddling their thumbs, the Humans figured out their own version of magic, one that was a fuckton more explosive than anything Monsters had on tap. If Red was a betting man, and he was, thanks, he knew which odds he was putting down on.

Red looked out the tinted window of the car driving him through the newly paved streets of Refuge, watching the scenery pass by. Much as he hated being chauffeured around, these days he didn’t have a whole lot of choice. Back when he was training in the guard, there was still some opportunity to skulk around. Strip away his uniform and its delta rune crest, and he was only another Monster with a shitty attitude wandering into Grillby’s for a drink.

Being Chosen took away any chance he had of wandering around unnoticed. Even if Red slipped away from Rus, his face was too well-known now and probably rated a solid six on the Humies freak-o-meter.

If he thought the chucklefucks throwing themselves at Rus’s feet begging for blessings were annoying, it was a damn sight worse when they tried that shit on him. As if he had any say in the way the Universe trundled on down the road. He wasn’t the one second in the queue to chat with the Angel, thanks, and none of the Divine had seen fit to give him their direct line.

Shame Edge didn’t let him fuck with them; a few broken fingers and a bruise or two might give them all a little peace, but eh, his bro was a spoilsport that way. His own fault for leaving the kid on his own years ago while he skulked off to join the guard, instead of sticking around to teach him what’s what. Edge’s code of morals didn’t line up so much with Red’s anymore and wasn’t that a bitch.

He pulled out a pack of cigarettes and shook one out, ignoring the sour look the driver gave him in the rearview mirror. They didn’t say a peep, though, kept whatever words they wanted to say locked up tight behind their tusks. Being Chosen did have a few perks other than risking his life and getting to spend plenty of quality time communing with Rus’s pussy.

Red lit the cigarette with a harsh rasp of his lighter, took a long drag of smoke and breathed it out as he leaned his skull against the cool window glass, watching the blurred landscape. The streets were lined with cheaply made carbon-copy houses, but there wasn’t a whole lotta room to complain about that. The first few months most of ‘em spent huddled in patched-up tents given to them by the reluctant Human government, miserable in the spring rain and mud that tried to suck off your shoes with every step. Far as Red was concerned, all Monsters should be damned grateful for a house to call their own and if someone wanted their place shaped like a fucking fish, they were gonna have to wait their turn.

Yeah, lots of Monsters struggled when they hit sunshine, trying to wrap their minds around everything that happened. Red wasn’t one of them. He’d been Chosen only days after his boots hit the ground, but he’d spent some time out in the mudholes, searching out threats against his freshly appointed Judge. He’d learned a few useful tricks before putting on a uniform and they sure did come in handy from time to time.

These days, Red didn’t get out as much anymore. Maybe if Rus had more Chosen than only him and Edge, he could’ve kept up with it, but it hadn’t worked out that way. The kid needed him, all of him, and that was that.

Inconvenient, yeah, but probably just as well. Kept him from having to hold the lid down on his boiling need to shiv anyone who fucking dared touch what was his. He played nice enough when it came to all the unity mumbo jumbo bullshit, the Judge was an avatar of the Angel, the Judge belonged to the people, yeah, sure, he’d toe the party line.

But when it came to laying hands on his boy there was only one other Monster with the right. He was as much Red’s as Rus was and that’d be true until the day Red shivered to dust.

So, yeah, he couldn’t do the footwork himself anymore, eh, sucks to suck. Instead, he was forced to rely on other Monsters to keep him rolling in that sweet, sweet info. He’d vetted all of them himself, checked into every detail of their lives all the way back to the day they dropped from their mama’s cooch. Every single one of them was loyal as fuck to the Angel and as willing to spy on each other as they were anyone else, and that right there helped weed out most of the trouble. Wasn’t a perfect method, but it usually worked pretty well and let Red keep his fingers hooked into a few pies. That was, whenever he could pull 'em out of Rus's desserts.

Right now, all his people were working overtime, trying to dig up some dirt on how those fuckers managed to get into the cafeteria to take a pot shot at Rus. When they finally got something concrete, Red planned to deal with it personally, and if Rus ended up giving him a Judging look over it, he didn’t much give a shit. He was Chosen for the Judge, to protect them in every way possible and if the Angel was having second thoughts about it, She could stop by and deal with it herself.

None of that had shit to do with what he was up to today.

The house his car pulled up in front of was as unremarkable as the rest, a cookie-cutter copy with different curtains and a doormat. The driveway was empty but that didn’t mean shit. He already knew they were home, had to be, because they never damn well left.

“stay here,” Red ordered the driver. He nodded silently, sodium-yellow eyes meeting Red’s in the rear-view mirror. Red got out, hopping down to the ground from the high seat with a silent grumble. He took a last drag of his cigarette and flicked the butt into the gutter. Straightening his uniform shirt was an automatic to him these days as taking his next breath. Didn’t make Red hate the fucking thing any less and he forced his hands back down as he trudged up the walkway.

He didn’t knock on the front door. Instead, he went around to the back of the house where he already knew what he would find. A turn of the corner an expansive garden was spread out before him, filled with neat rows of greenery already creeping their way out of the rich dirt.

There was a garden in every backyard in Refuge, every one of ‘em planted at the Queen’s command. Part of her plan was making sure that eventually Monsters would be as self-sufficient as possible. Couldn’t depend on the Humies to keep them in clover forever and sure they had some tech deals getting hammered out, but if there was one truth all Monsters knew, it was that G wasn’t food.

True, it wasn’t a perfect plan; some of those mandatory gardens were pretty fucking sad, brown straggly plants that might cough up a tomato or two before they kacked it. This one, though, was pristine. Red didn’t care about growing shit that couldn’t be rolled up into a blunt and knew even less about it, but even he could see the way all the plants were evenly spaced and that there wasn’t a single weed growing anywhere. Not a stray piece of grass or a single thistle dared peek out of the soil in this garden.

A Monster was kneeling in one of the plots, dressed in overalls and a funny little straw hat, a wagon next to him heaped with tools and paper bags, a small pile weeds who ignored the warning signs.

Red didn’t actually know Blue real well. When Rus talked about Blue, it was always with a wealth of fondness in his soft voice, often whispering his memories in the darkness of their bedroom whenever insomnia haunted him.

Whatever sweetness Rus remember in Blue, it was long since eroded away, torn out of him, and whether it was being Chosen, his past Judgement, or Asgore who did it didn’t much matter to the outcome.

He was one of Sans’s early Chosen, back before Red even joined the guard and the few times he’d seen Blue were when he came to assemblies to watch the trainees before they were instated as full guards. Red remembered seeing him those days; dressed to the nines in his uniform, boots polished until a person could see their reflection in them from ten steps away, every crease straight, every button fastened. Seen him a few times from a distance, too, with Sans, always a nice, respectful two steps behind him and looking as if butter wouldn’t melt between his knees. Couldn’t even picture the bastard ever getting bent over a sofa getting fucked by a desperate Judge.

(Sans was more likely to flop back and take a fucking, way back when, all sly smiles and slick pussy, knees spread wide in invitation. Whatever becoming the Judge did to him must’ve given his preferences a good topsy-turvy, ‘cause gossip in the barracks warned all the guards to be prepared for spending plenty of time on their knees)

They’d talked a few more times since then and not a single one of those chats endeared Blue to Red any more than the first.

These days Blue was pretty fucking hard to look at. His skull looked like it’d been busted apart and put back together by hands that didn’t care if the puzzle pieces didn’t fit right, parts of the bone still discolored with char. The empty left sleeve of his shirt was pinned up neatly to his shoulder and the cane leaning against his little wagon wasn’t for show. He’d survived the coup, but not by much, the only one of Sans’s chosen who didn’t die along with him, and there was a memory that Red didn’t like to take out and play with too often.

His team came in far too late, after it was all over but the vacuuming. Breaking through the barred door and walking into the leftovers of a massacre, a mass Judging, no one who’d been in the throne room came out unscathed. Blue the only one still breathing right and Sans…yeah.

Probably a wonder Blue hadn’t offed himself yet.

All that aside, it was a shame that the stick in his pelvis didn’t get yanked out along with his arm. The eye light that lit his less damaged socket was blazing sharp, and he was struggling to his feet the second Red started walking across the yard, snatching up his cane and brandishing it like a sword.

“What are you doing out here?” Blue demanded loudly. He stormed out of his garden, tracking mud across the carefully shorn grass. “You should be with Rus, he needs to be protected!”

“well, hello to you, too,” Red drawled. He stuck his hands in his pockets carelessly, rocking on his heels. “kid is fine, edge is with him.”

Blue’s dismissive scoff raked across Red’s nerves like the tines of a fork on a cheese grater. “Oh, certainly, with Edge, that’s surely impenetrable protection! Edge wasn’t even a full guard when he was Chosen!”

"might be so, but edge is the one in charge these days. you think i want out there handling that shit?" Either Blue wasn’t keeping up with the times or he was just being a prick. Either was possible, but the fact of the matter was that in public, Edge was the boss. His word was law when it came to Rus and it had a lotta spillover onto Toriel. To insinuate that he wasn’t capable of protecting the Judge was an insult about the level of hocking a juicy loogie into Red’s face and if it was anyone else, Red wouldn’t be fussed about getting the dust out of his shoelaces before he headed home. Blue caught the barest hint of a break, for Rus, but he was already fucking pushing it. Still, Red kept his voice carelessly easy, “you sound kinda worried about your bro.”

Blue shed the glove on his remaining hand and pulled a tidy bandanna out of his back pocket, mopping at the sheen of sweat on his shattered skull. “I heard about the attack, of course. Everyone has.”

“yeah?” Red raised a brow bone, reluctantly interested. “hear any useful gossip about it?”

“If I had, you would already know about it,” Blue retorted. He sighed and gestured for Red to follow him, making his staggering way up to the back porch. It was surrounded by flowering bushes, heady perfume overwhelmingly filling the air while bees flee drunkenly from blossom to blossom. Sitting on a little patio table was a carafe of lemonade, lemon slices floating amongst the ice.

Blue poured two large glasses, pushing one over to Red. He took a long drink, the tartness blotting out the nauseatingly thick reek of the flowers.

Blue took a sip from his glass, ice cubes rattling, and he dabbed away the thin stream that ran out of his cracked jaw with the bandanna. “I don’t hear most of the gossip, I’m afraid, not anymore. I’m a failed guard, the neighbors don’t exactly stop by for visits and chats.”

“You didn’t fail at shit,” Red retorted sharply. Bullshit was all that was, all because Blue managed to not die.

Red wasn’t fond of Blue, but fuck, he’d had nine toes in the dustpan when they managed to tow him back into the land of the living. He’d fucking well tried and if anyone wanted to toss in their opinion on whether they thought Blue didn’t try hard enough, they were welcome to give Red’s fat one a good ol’ suck.

Blue only let out a humorless laugh. Once, his eye lights had been a starry yellow-blue, showcasing his traits. Patience and justice, pretty good draw for a Chosen companion to the Judge. The one eye light he still had was pale and colorless now, reminiscent of Rus’s, only Blue’s was dull, doughy-blank, showing none of Rus’s vibrancy. Hard to believe anymore that these two were even brothers.

Curious that Rus’s Choosing gave him a pair of brothers with a matching trait of Determination. Made a person wonder exactly why, but neither the Angel nor the Judge were telling.

The glass in Blue’s hand rattled against his trembling fingers, the bones still yellowed and scorched. “Tell that to Sans.”

“tell him yourself,” Red lowered his voice to a harsh whisper. The cunning little device in his pocket would’ve warned Red if there was any active listening devices around, but Red hadn’t survived as long as he had without harsh lessons in watching his mouth, “i told you before, i can get you up to our rooms, no one’d ever know.”

Blue’s mouth twisted disgustedly. The movement from his jaw pulled the gaping crack over his dead socket grotesquely wider as the first real emotion winking in and out of his eye light in a flash. "And I told you, there is a reason that former Chosen aren’t allowed near the new Judge,” Blue slammed down his glass, a wave of lemonade slopping over his damaged fingers. “There's no telling how he'd react if he saw me! If he recalled I was once Chosen, he might--ugh!” Blue hunched over with a shudder of revulsion, “It's bad enough that you and your brother are servicing him."

“you questioning the judge’s choice?” Red said coolly, just this side of waspish. He didn't really give a good shit what Blue thought of it, especially considering Red’s reasons for being here to begin with, but he did wonder what Blue would think if he knew Sans popped out for a recent visit. Whispered a coupla sweet nothings while he jammed Rus’s prick East bejesus up Red’s cunt. The memory made a slick of wetness form at Red’s crotch and he shoved the memory back. Not the time and he stuffed that little reminiscence back where the one of his brother’s cock in his mouth lived, the knowledge of how it felt, soft and slick with his own come and Rus’s, carefully tucked into the furthest corner of his mind.

That tart question struck the dartboard in a bullseye. Blue faltered like he’d been jabbed right in the tailbone, sputtering out, “No, of course not, but—" He recovered, straightening his spine and that cool soldier’s expression dropped over his face, the stick in his ass jammed straight. “That doesn’t matter. What matters is the damage it could cause my brother to see me, so you can stop asking, the answer is no, it’ll always be no.”

“whatever you say,” Red shrugged, ‘cause he didn’t care, not really. Except for how desperately Rus wanted to see his fucking brother, just once, one last time. The brother he’d missed out saying goodbye to between Blue’s unconsciousness and him being Chosen. Any other Judge at least got a chance to say fare thee well and the fact that Rus lost the opportunity was just one more bar in Rus’s prison, caged in, body and soul.

Blue’s answer was about what he’d expected though, and that was fine. Another useless attempt to get him to the Embassy wasn’t Red’s real reason for coming.

“not really here about you anyway, pipsqueak,” Red said, letting the words fall lightly. “i heard papyrus is staying here with you these days.”

That little tidbit of gossip came through the vine in the wee hours last night, Red checking his phone with Rus sleeping peacefully beside him, Edge on the far side. He’d spent the rest of the night lying awake, cold fury thrumming in his soul and that was the real reason Red came all the fucking way out here for a little face to face chat. “shacking up with sans’s little brother, huh, that sure must be something.”

Papyrus was only a kid when Sans was chosen as Judge, still in striped shirts and missing his two front teeth. Biggest difference between him and Edge was the Crown gave a stipend to the families of Chosen to make up for the loss of income. Papyrus probably never had a hungry day in his life and certainly not after Sans put on the robes. His bro never had to worry if the shit wage he was earning in the guard was gonna be enough to keep a roof over his kid brother’s head or keep him in clothes when he started growing like a weed. Sans didn’t have to set aside enough for a bribe to make sure that whatever G he made actually found its way to his brother and didn’t end up lining the pocket of some greedy deliveryman.

None of that was Papyrus’s fault and sucking on a silver teat didn’t make him miss his brother any less. Kid tried the join the guard a few times and always washed out, only got to try more than once because of who his brother was. Red wondered morbidly what Blue’s stuck up, sanctimonious ass would’ve thought if Papyrus had gotten into the guard and Sans Chose him.

Now it was looking like that stick in Blue’s ass didn’t keep him from inviting Papyrus between the sheets.

Whatever color was in Blue’s skull leached away, the bone dulling to chalky white, and taking with it any hope that Blue wasn’t using that kid as a dim replacement. His gaze skittered away, hunted, skipping around the yard, looking for fuck knew what. For Sans to step out of the void with shrieking admonishments, for a stray bolt of lightning to finally strike him down and send Blue after those who went before him. There was nothing, only Red standing here holding half a glass of decent lemonade in the sunshine so many died to get.

There was nowhere else for that look to go, no escape, and finally Blue reluctantly looked at Red again. He said, raw and stiffly, “There’s nothing against the code about that.”

“no, there ain’t,” Red agreed, softly. He only met Blue’s solitary eye light evenly. Red couldn’t see into Blue’s soul but he fucking well hoped Blue felt his sins crawling their leisurely way up his spine.

Red set his lemonade down carefully before he gave into the urge to toss it glass and all right into Blue’s broken face. He turned away and started back around the house, barely off the patio when Blue called his name.

“Red?” Blue struggled for words finally asked, plaintively. “Is he happy?”

Almost Red wanted to tell Blue that they kept Rus well fucked. That his little bro looked good stuffed with cock on both ends, that he sucked dick with the expertise of a thousand G whore.

But he wasn’t about to talk about Rus like that, not even to get one up on his shitheel brother. “i like to think so. he’s a real sweetheart.”

Red made no mention of the almost desperate adoration that rose up in his soul that came from only thinking about Rus. That wasn’t for sharing time.

“Yes,” Blue said. His hoarse voice was low, subdued, “he always was. take good care of him?”

Better than you could, Red did not say. “want me to give him a message or anything?”

Blue’s melancholy faded and he shook his head immediately, "Judges are forbidden from any contact by a former Chosen or family, and I’m both. You know this.” He sounded like he was reading straight from the guard manual.

If Rus hadn’t been Chosen, he’d be here right now taking care of his piece of shit brother. Standing back helplessly while Blue fucked the old Judge’s kid brother and pretended he was someone else, and Red was a selfish enough bastard to be glad he wasn’t. “you’re right, i do. so is there?”

Blue only lifted his chin and it was a damn good thing he wasn’t a Judge, because his single eye light was loaded with resentful judgement. “No. There’s nothing I could tell him that he wouldn’t already know.”

Yeah, just as well Rus was Chosen. Blue didn’t fucking deserve to have his brother here with him.

Wasn’t a fucking thing Red could do about Papyrus; he was out of stripes and kid was gonna have to make his own bad decisions and what was Red gonna do about it anyway? Take him back home like a stray puppy he found on the streets? Tell him that he didn’t have to settle for Sans’s leftovers, remind him that it wasn’t Sans’s idea to leave any of them? That he didn’t need to live here, the two of them burying themselves into a dusty tomb that Sans wasn’t even in.

He wondered what Papyrus was getting out of it. If he was closing his sockets and played his own version of pretend.

He wondered why he even cared. Why had he come out here to Refuge, really?

“tell paps i said hi,” Red said finally, “ain’t nothing against that in the code, either.”

“I will.”

Red turned on his heel and headed back to the car before he said something he wouldn’t regret, but would hurt Rus if he ever heard about it. He lit a cigarette before they’d even pulled away from the curb and by the time they got back to the Embassy, he’d smoked his way through the entire pack.

~~*~~

When Red got back to their quarters, he was too fucking tired for the early hour of the day and faintly nauseous from too much nicotine. He closed the door carefully behind him, resetting all the alarms. His joints ached like all his frustrations seeped out of his soul and settled into them.

In their living area, Rus and Edge were sitting on opposite sofas, playing some kind of stupid card game. Rus was choosing to stay home for a few days, barring a Judgement, and that was the only reason Red felt comfortable enough to leave the two of them alone, anyway.

Kid didn’t want to endanger anyone else, perfectly reasonable response to what happened, but they couldn’t hide away in here forever. Rus needed fresh air and sunshine. He needed his meditation gardens, not the weedy looking herbs Edge grew on the narrow windowsill for his cooking.

That meant Red needed to go over the intel his contacts were sending along. Search for reoccurring names, patterns, anything that’d lead him to the end of this snake so he could chop off the head.

Needed to, yeah, but it’d have to wait. Right now, his head wasn’t exactly in the game. He’d left too much of his mind behind in Refuge, turning that chat over and over, trying to find a chink, a solution that didn’t exist.

Probably better to get settled so he didn’t miss a trick, yeah, that was the ticket. All Red wanted right now was some manufactured forgetfulness and he wanted to get started making it right now.

“welcome back,” Rus called cheerily. He only glanced at Red, pale eye lights filled with warm greeting, before turning back to the cards in his hand with a little frown.

That gave Red a chance to discreetly run a mental inventory of his honey. Rus was looking good today. There was some color back into his bones, his pristine skull glossy with health. His magic was leveling out to its normal slower upward trickle. Hell, at a glance he was damn right perky, and that made it hard not to appreciate how fucking pretty he was. His long robes were discarded in favor of a pair of soft, loose pants and a t-shirt to match, bare feet tucked under his knees and a hint of his clavicles peeking tantalizingly over the neckline, begging for a mouth to give ‘em a taste.

Just seeing Rus like that leached some of the aching tension out of Red’s soul, trading it out for relief.

It was tempting to step up right then, but Red hung back, waiting for them to finish their game. When Rus wasn't giving Judgments, what he was mostly was bored. There was only so much meditating and bonding with the spirits or whatever the shit that anyone could do. Protecting the Judge was the focus of their job, the most important thing, but it wasn’t the only one. The other part of their bit was plain taking care of Rus and that included entertainment.

Sex might be an easy way to knock out two birds with one dick, but it couldn’t be the only thing.

Their living room was lined with shelves filled to the brim with books and blu-rays, video game consoles and board games, anything to help Rus pass the day and hopefully forget that the sunshine his brother nearly died to get for their people couldn’t really be his.

“What were you off doing anyway?” Rus asked absently. His attention was mostly on the game, sockets narrowed, and across from him, Edge only waited patiently, the slightest hint of a smirk curving his mouth. Rus didn’t seem too worried about Red taking a field trip, it did happen from time to time.

His brother was probably less than pleased that Red took off without a word as to where he was going other than a hastily scrawled note of ‘back soon’, but eh, Red could take that medicine when he had to.

There was a split-second choice to be made here, whether to tell Rus the truth of where he’d gone or not. With only a couple words, Red could make sure Rus never wanted to see his brother again…and taint every past memory he clung to in the process. Almost did it anyway; Red was an old hand at cleaning up all kinds of messes, he could handle one more. The only thing that held his tongue was thinking of Rus’s grief, the choking tears streaming down his pretty face, and his memory of his brother would end up just one more thing he’d lost.

Only this time it would be Red doing the taking.

Fuck it, if the Angel wanted Rus to know about it, She could do the dirty work.

“nothing important, darlin’,” Red said smoothly, and that was true enough.

Rus didn’t notice anything amiss, but Edge gave him a narrow, suspicious look. Eh, he’d catch his bro up on things soon enough. Now wasn’t the time. For once, Edge wasn’t buttoned from his clavicles to his toes in his uniform, instead dressed in soft pants and a sweatshirt that was a hair too tight, probably from Rus’s side of the closet. Probably meant they’d spent some cuddle time on the sofa before starting up on the game or at least Red hoped so. He might watch the cameras later. Just to make sure.

His wandering thoughts were coagulating, coming back together in his skull and Red was already wondering what kind of distraction he could come up with to tug their attention from the cards when he heard it. Faintly, the familiar, hollow sound of a constant buzzing against bone.

Well, now, this was getting interesting, now wasn’t it.

“care to fill me in on the rules to this game?” Red drawled. He leaned against the sofa arm and treated himself to a more in-depth perusal of them both. Nothing unusual leapt out at him, not yet.

“it’s pretty simple,” Rus said. His cards were fanned out messily in his slim hands, a disorderly array of suits. “whoever loses a round has to wear a vibrator in the next round. winner gets to put the vibrator wherever they want.”

Huh. Rus sounded a little more disgruntled than that called for. Kid was an ace at counting cards, it was a little surprising he’d even persuaded Edge to play. “sounds fun.”

“i thought so too,” Rus said, shooting Edge a sulky look. “only edge doesn’t even work up a sweat, no matter where i put it. i’ve tried it behind his sternum, his sacrum, pubic arch. i'm about ready to toss it into his eye socket and let it rattle around in his skull for a while, see if that shakes him up.”

Edge laid the queen of spades on top of the card pile and said placidly, “My apologies for my self-control being so boring.”

Boring, huh. Red looked his brother up and down calculatingly. The little details were there if a person knew how to look. Eye lights barely hazed, the slightest hitch to his too-even breathing. He was a little worked up, but Rus wasn't lying, he still looked like an ice cube wouldn't melt in his shorts.

Meanwhile, Rus was pouting unhappily, his pretty smile turned upside down, and that just couldn’t be allowed, now could it. An idea perked up in the back of Red’s mind, ripe with possibilities, and Rus would go for it no question. Whether Edge would was dependent on how happy he wanted to make Rus, which usually fell under ‘a lot’. The odds were good, and Red never shied from a good bet.

Red leaned in and settled a wandering hand on Rus’s knee, sliding lightly up his inner thigh and snagging his attention. "how about we play another kind of game, honey."

Rus immediately looked wary, but Red wasn't offended. Couldn't blame him; Rus'd played Red’s games before, good on him for taking the lesson to heart.

"what game?" Rus asked suspiciously.

"Doesn’t anyone want to know if I want to play a new game?" Edge asked no one in particular. They ignored him.

Red rose up on his toes and laid a soft kiss on Rus’s mouth, lingering a little too long over that sweetness before he reluctantly drew back. “lemme get changed first then we'll talk. you go on ahead and finish that round.”

He strolled off, whistling cheerfully. The day was already looking up.

In their shared bedroom Red stripped out of his uniform, carelessly dropping it to the floor for Edge to bitch over later. A pair of well-worn shorts and a t-shirt was a decent match to the wardrobe choices of two brats out there, and made for easier access and cleanup. Ready Freddy, except for one thing.

Red knelt down and dug out a small box hidden underneath their bed, grabbed a little something that might come in handy right soon. He tucked it into his pocket, shoving it deep enough not to arouse (heh) suspicions.

Edge was picking up the cards when Red came back out, tucking them back into the box. The previously unseen vibrator was sitting innocently on the coffee table as if Red couldn’t see the faint traces of crimson that’d been hastily wiped away.

Red crawled up on the sofa next to Rus and held out an arm, pretended that his soul didn’t give a solid throb as Rus immediately snuggled in against him happily. The kid rolled over on his back, his skull in Red’s lap, looking up at him with bright curiosity in those pale eye lights as he said, “c’mon, red, tell me!”

That pout was back and Red took a moment to lean down and quickly kiss it away, allowing only a brief flicker of their tongues together before he pulled back. He stroked the smooth bone of Rus’s forehead lightly, soothingly, “all right, honey love, here’s the game. you got five minutes to get edge to come, however you can. if you don’t get it done in the allotted time, i get five minutes to make him come. winner gets the prize.”

As he’d guessed, Rus’s eye lights immediately blew wide, briefly tinging golden in an abrupt surge of desire. It faded quick enough, Rus struggling to hold it back, but the cat was out of the bag now, wasn’t it.

Across the way, Edge barely stifled a sharp, startled sound, but if he had an opinion about Red’s little suggestion, he kept it to himself.

The rest of Red’s words seemed to have wormed their way past that first thoughtless rush and Rus was frowning again, “that's not fair. if i lose, he'll already be all worked up for you.”

Red leaned down and gave him a light kiss in reward for figuring that out. “ah, but see, difference is, i don't get to touch him. no bone on bone for me, sweetheart, i promise.”

Mollified, Rus settled back. “what do i get if i win?”

“you get to ask a favor of me, anything at all.”

Poor kid was gonna get whiplash the way he kept flipflopping from interest to disappointment. “i can already do that.”

“yeah, but you don’t.” Red pointed out, “you never do. this one you’d earn fair and square, might make it easier if you’re spending your own dime rather than the inheritance.”

Rus nodded slowly, understanding coupled with intrigue lighting his face, “and if you win?”

“same deal, i get to ask one thing from you. anything i want.” That win or lose Rus was gonna enjoy himself thoroughly was heavily implied.

“anything,” Rus murmured, rolling the word around in his mouth, giving it a good taste, but before he could decide if he liked the flavor, another bargainer stepped up to the table.

“I have a question,” Edge said, coolly. Red glanced at his brother meaningfully, met crimson eye lights that were a match his own. Edge was sitting on the opposite sofa, his arms crossed over his chest. The line of his jaw was tense, teeth gritted together, but that wasn’t distaste or reluctance on his face, not one fucking bit. He waited to see if his bro would beg off or outright refuse. They’d teeter-tottered around into a little touchy feely a long time ago, didn’t matter so long as it helped get Rus off. They'd been ramping it up lately, but this was a horse of a different color, deliberate red on red without a buffer of honeyed gold between them.

He was counting on his brother not to disappoint.

“what’s that, bro?” Red asked.

Edge’s crimson tongue flicked out over his teeth, an almost imperceptible hint at nervousness. "What do I get if neither of you get me to come?"

Oh yeah, that was his bro.

"ah, that’s easy,” Red said lightly, “favor is all yours, little brother. from both of us."

Red looked back down at Rus and he could about see the gears turning in his mind. He was a smart kid, even smarter when you took into account all the Judges in creation playing house in the back of his mind. He was trying to work out what kind of monkey's paw bullshit Red wove into the bargain, but looked like he wasn't finding anything cause all he said was, decisively, "deal.”

“Deal,” Edge agreed softly. He stood and turned on his heel, walking out. Came back only a minute later with a couple towels over one arm, fucking neat freak. He spread them out on the sofa then shed his clothes, folding each piece neatly as he stripped it off. Edge wasn’t anywhere near as pretty as Rus, his bones were thicker with none of the delicacy that was laced into their lover’s, pocked with scars from the years before he was in the guard and the training alike. Strong bone that could take a beating and had, bearing the marks of a survivor and warm pride flowed over Red like syrup, like the honey he so often named Rus.

Edge’s joints were already lit with mana, either from the earlier vibrator or the recent chat, and a cloud of it filled his pelvic cradle, a thunderstorm of brimming desire. He settled back on the sofa, long legs stretched out, and said, mockingly sweet, “Ready when you are.”

A hasty search found lube where it was thoughtful stowed under one of the cushions and Rus drizzled it over his slim hands, rubbing them together until the slender bones were glossy and slick. “summon your cock first, give me something to work with.”

Edge tutted in disappointment, shaking his head, “Asking for a concession already?”

“everyone knows you don’t start a game without setting up the pieces first,” Rus countered, waggling his slippery fingers teasingly.

“he’s got you there, bro,” Red chuckled, amusement mingled with a peculiar sort of relief. All the nastiness of the day was flowing away, dirty water down the drain, simply by being around these two sassy shits. “don’t you think he deserves a little head start?”

Nice to see that Red wasn’t the only one who weakened under a pair of wide, pleading eye lights. Edge softened like sweet butter left on the stovetop. The swirl of his magic solidified, his cock formed between his femurs, already heavy and hard, a formidable piece of equipment that Edge usually put to good use. Rus reached out with dripping hands, only waiting when Red called out.

“hold up.” Red pulled out his phone, setting the timer, “okay, rus…go!”

Red settled back into the throw pillows to watch the show, one hand slithering down the front of his shorts, hard phalanges idle against his pubic crest where his magic was settling humidly. Wasn’t any part of the bet against him coming and Red was all ready to hit the concession stand.

Rus didn’t waste any time, both hands already curled around Edge’s shaft, spreading the slippery lube until the scarlet ectoflesh was glistening wetly. The rhythmic sound was wickedly obscene, startlingly loud over Rus’s satisfied hum.

There was no reaction at all from Edge, his eye lights barely flickered as Rus stroked him. Even when Rus frowned determinedly, kneeling between Edge’s spread legs, tongue already eagerly extended. He lapped softly at the little jewel of scarlet fluid beading at the head of Edge’s cock before sucking the length of it down with a messy slurp.

“that’s it. little brother,” Red called, smirking as Edge only hissed out a breath, keeping stubbornly still, “don’t make it too easy for him.”

It was a helluva show, to put it mildly, worth it even if by some random chance Red lost the game. Rus was pulling out all the stops, using every dirty, wicked trick he’d been taught between them about giving head and a couple made up on the spot. The long, flexible length of his tongue wrapped around the shaft, a thumb and forefinger surrounding the base, following the tight rhythm of Rus’s head. Mouth sloppy wet, golden spit sliding down his chin and wetting his hand as Rus sucked Edge in deep, his formed throat bobbing as he swallowed, formed muscles massaging the hard length. His free hand wandered wherever it could reach, seeking out places he knew were sensitive. Rus had mapped out their bodies with those shy, nimble fingers of his too many times to count, committing their every twitch to memory, and now he was tweaking cartilage, fondling up the length of Edge’s spine, teasing at his floating ribs.

All the little details put together a fine picture; Rus’s ass in the air, his clothed pelvis wriggling enticingly as he worked. Muffled whimpers were spilling into the air from him around the cock filling his mouth, garbled pleading, and Edge sure as fuck wasn’t unaffected now.

Sweat decorated his skull like glittery sequins as Edge breathed hard through his nasal cavity, his tongue caught between his jagged teeth hard enough that a thin rill of crimson was spilling down his chin. His knees jerked slightly with each bob of Rus’s head, bones clattering softly. A raw groan escaped Edge, hinting at desperation at the exact moment the timer buzzed, shifting to a pained gasp as Rus pulled off with slow deliberation, giving the head a last teasing suck.

Rus sighed in mock disappointment, wiping at his mouth fruitlessly with the back of his hand and only succeeding in smearing the mingled gold and crimson fluids. “damn it, guess i lost.”

“guess you did,” Red slid down to the floor with less grace than he would’ve liked, knees wobbly and his own arousal settled heavily into his pelvis. “have a seat, honey, watch the master at work.”

Mischief flittered over Rus’s face, far too quick for anything but a warning. He caught hold of the front of Red’s shirt and yanked him in, forcing his sex-tainted tongue down Red’s throat. The taste was one he knew all too well, honey sweetness mellowed with spice, rich and addictive.

A last delicate swipe of his tongue and Rus sashayed away, snagging one of the pillows to curl around while he settled in for his turn to watch.

Red licked the back of his teeth, catching the last of that tang before it faded completely. Yeah, Rus was gonna pay for that.

Or maybe Red needed to thank him, because Edge was watching them hotly with a riveted gaze, a thread of crimson fluid leaking from the tip of his cock to stain the towel.

He didn’t quite flinch as Red crawled up on the cushions, keeping a careful distance from his brother’s bare bones. There was a certain fraught quality to Edge’s expression, a feral wildness like he might bolt away.

“close your sockets, bro,” Red told him, gently. Which mean of course that Edge did no such thing, contrary bastard.

“Why?” Edge said suspiciously. His gaze flicked down Red’s body helplessly to where his dick was pushing out the front of his shorts, then away, then back to Red’s face, the color blooming his cheekbones lovelier than any flower in Refuge.

Thoughts like that weren’t gonna help Red win the game and he shoved it aside, adding it to his growing collection of ‘ain’t thinking about it’.

“because i fucking told you to,” Red retorted, “that’s why. now play the game right.”

“I don’t recall following orders being in the rules,” Edge grumbled, but this time he did as he was told.

Red waited until he was sure those sockets were closed tight, not the faintest hint of crimson showing. Then he reached into his pocket for his special toy surprise.

This particular prize wasn't from their normal toybox since Rus didn't have a lot of interest in his cock. That might be changing, he'd give it a thought some other time. The toy was made of a gelatinous material was only slightly softer than ectoflesh, formed into a hollow sheath that was lined with small bumps and curving grooves designed stimulate, drag out every drop of pleasure possible, willingly or otherwise.

The expected cries of cheating didn’t come and Red flicked a glance at Rus to find him watching with wide, rapturous sockets, face flushed golden bright. One arm was wrapped so tightly around the pillow the fabric threatened to burst and his other hand pressed between his legs overtop his pants, fingers digging in helplessly as if he could stop his cunt from forming by sheer, physical will.

The audience was waiting, the timer was set. Time to get this game started. Red scooped up the depleted bottle of lube and squirted a dollop into the sheath and with one motion, deftly slid it down on his brother’s dick.

The reaction was gratifying. Edge’s hips lurched up wildly, his sockets flying open, hands curled into claws that very nearly latched onto Red’s skull before they abruptly diverted and clenched into the sofa cushions.

"You said no touching!" Edge hissed, crimson eye lights flashing as he trembled with outrage. His sharpened fingertips dug into the cushions, tearing through the fabric down to the memory foam.

“i ain't touching you a bit, baby brother,” Red crooned, and tightened his fist around the sheath, giving it a quick, vigorous stroke. Those bumps had to be digging in, massaging their way up and down with each rub.

Edge gasped wetly, squeezing his sockets shut, "Don't call me that!"

The other sofa creaked and Red slanted a glance at Rus who was halfway to his feet, reaching out weakly and conflicting emotions tangled across his face. “red, stop," Rus said, trembling but firm. "not if he doesn't want it."

Red only chuckled darkly, dragging his clenched fist down achingly slow, then up abruptly again, "oh, don’t you worry, honey, he wants it. don't you?"

Edge said nothing, his breath coming in harsh gasps as he struggled to keep his pelvis still while Red jerked him off through the thin barrier of the sheath. Looked like the trap might need a little more bait.

Red leaned in closer, careful not to so much as graze his brother’s strong, scarred bones, and whispered, low and harsh, "you remember the first time you fucked him? the way he was spread out under you, begging you to take him?”

This time his brother’s breath creaked out like the hinge of an old door as Red kept it up, murmuring breathily close to his auditory canal, “remember pushing your cock into that pretty virgin pussy? how it was already dripping with my come, how tight he was around your cock? kinda like this, yeah, remember him cryin' cause he needed it so much? how scared he was, showing us his soul? sweet thing all dripping wet, he needed it so bad, the mess he made, oh, that honey magic and silver, practically squirting over himself the second you touched his clit, remember that? you remember how he looked when he came?"

He kept up the relentless pace with every low word, letting the memory warm him. There was a certain charm to clumsy eagerness, inexperienced hands searching unknowingly for all the places that felt best. Not that Red missed it exactly, but he sure didn’t mind bringing that memory out to play with from time to time.

Edge was struggling, heaving, his eye lights narrowed to pinpricks as he stared blindly up at the ceiling.

Almost there, almost, and Red leaned in close enough for Edge to feel the heat of his breath, a bare whisper too low for Rus to possibly hear him, "member the first time he said he loved us?"

That did the trick. Edge let out a wretched sound like a sob, bones rattling as he came, filling the sheath to overflowing with his seed. Red could feel the surging heat of it through the thin plastic, smelled the rich spice even as the blare of the alarm came from his phone.

Game, set, match.

Red pulled off, tossing the dripping sheath to the coffee table to join the vibrator already there. Edge only lay weakly in his defeat, pelvis smeared with come, the rest of his bones dabbled with sweat. Red left him there to wallow in his filth, prowling over to Rus.

Who scrabbled back into the corner of the sofa, his sockets so wide it looked like his eye lights were gonna pop loose and fizzle out on the carpet. He fumbled for the phone gracelessly, somehow managing to turn off the warbling timer without dropping it on the floor even as Red raked a look over him. Taking in the heated glow of his joints, the honey-tint to his eye lights, the wet patch seeping through his pants, leaving a darkened stain that clung visibly to his pussy lips.

Yeah, Red had his number now. Looked like their honey had a lil' voyeurism kink going on. That was a new toy Red was looking forward to playing with, fuck yes. But for now, he had a problem of his own going on in his pants and Rus’s magic was crackling hotly in the air, searing lightning searching for the ground

"lay back, sugar," Red slipped off his shorts, briefly fisting his own cock, groaning at the feel of his own hard fingers.

Rus did it instantly, squirming as he worked his pants down his legs and kicked them off even as he asked doubtfully, "this is what you want as a favor?"

"nope, this is mine by right.” Red jerked Rus down until his pelvis was at the edge of the sofa, long legs dangling to the floor. He shuffled forward, lining his cock up with Rus’s eagerly clenching entrance, smearing his cock with golden wetness. “i'll let you know about the favor."

Then he shoved into that wet pussy, groaning at the soaking, tight heat around him as Rus’s wail filled the room.

So fucking gorgeous, watching Rus whimper and flail as Red fucked him. Pretty as Rus was on his knees, Red liked him better on his back. Liked watching that lovely face scrunch up every time Red fucked into him, honeyed tears welling up, streaming down the rounded curves of his cheekbones as that sassy mouth dropped open and his tongue curled behind his teeth.

In the down under, he got to watch his dick moving in the soft, golden magic that filled Rus's pelvis. His cunt was a slippery, plush delight, that first thrust inside always bordered on too tight until his walls loosened up a little, Rus whimpering out little cries as Red forced his cock in, past the rippling clench to fill him up.

And fuck him for how hot that was. Red knew Rus could take a fist all the way up to the elbow into his pussy, a cock wasn't no big thing, (heh), but the feel of it, fuck, like taking his virginity all over again. Red braced his heels against the coffee table and pumped harder, watched the length of his shaft slide in, pussy lips spreading wide around it, parting to give him a nice look at Rus's swollen clit. Red reached down to trace around it teasingly with a careful, sharp-tipped finger and Rus let out a frantic whine.

"you want somethin’, sweetheart?" Red panted out.

"i want to come!" Sweet desperation poured from him, fuck, talk about no stamina. Then again, Rus was like a little energizer bunny of orgasms, he could keep going and going, popping off one after another. Wasn’t no reason to hold him back now.

One hard drag of Red’s thumb over his clit and Rus was arching, his legs going tight around Red’s hips, holding him in deep as he convulsed. A fresh rush of wetness flooding his pussy, smoothing out the ride.

Rus sagged back against the cushions, hiccoughing soft little cries as Red kept it up. His own orgasm was swelling in him, tantalizingly close. Next to him, the sofa suddenly dipped with added weight and maybe Red couldn’t lean up high enough to give Rus’s pleading mouth a kiss, but that was fine, cause Edge was there to do it for him, his brother’s crimson tongue moving sinuously against Rus's golden one, fuck, yeah.

"come on down here, bro,” Red growled, flicking his thumb over Rus’s swollen clit again, “got something better for you to work with."

His brother shifted downward instantly, tilting his head in to lick at that sensitive nub. His crimson tongue was long, prehensile, dipping in between Rus’s femurs. Not his normal one, either, this one forked at the tip, all the better to work against Rus's clit, circling it from both sides, yeah, his fucking clever brother. Sometimes it wandered too low, one of the tips occasionally grazed against Red's cock, slyly pushing into Rus’s cunt and catching Red off-guard with a brief firework of sensation.

Red could taste his own sweat, sharp and faintly bitter, tried not to jerk as that tongue lashed against him again. He didn’t want Edge the same way he did Rus, he didn’t, but oh, you kid—

Fuck it, he couldn’t hold out anymore.

Red let go with a groan, pulling out to come in hot streaks over Rus's pelvis, and, oh, yeah, his bro's face. Edge flinched, closing his sockets and didn't stop, licking Rus through another orgasm even as a glossy spurt of come striped across his tongue, the fluid a shade of crimson darker than the ectoflesh.

With a deeply satisfied sigh, Red shuffled over enough to flop on the sofa even as Rus trembled and writhed through his shuddering ecstasy. He watched through narrowed sockets as Edge sat up, blinking too fast and his tremulous expression was loaded with conflicting signals. Almost, Red reached out, his sense still blurrily pleased, struck with the idea of rubbing his come in, smearing it across his brother’s scarred bones, marking him—

He reeled back, snorting aloud at his own stupidity. Yeah, yeah, his brother and no one else’s. He’d lived that schtick his whole life, no reason to complicate it now.

Looking at it sideways, the mess of his come was dripping down Edge’s skull in a way that made Red think hilariously of strawberry syrup on cheesecake.

Well, it could be a sweet treat for someone to eat, now couldn’t it.

"whoopsie, looks like i messed him up," Red drawled, elbowing Rus lightly. "you gonna clean him up, sugar skull?"

Rus stirred at the pet name, sockets fluttering open, then going wide as he took in the sights. He swallowed audibly, husking out, "yeah i can…i can do that if…if you want?"

Like Edge was even capable of turning that down. A short, sharp nod and Edge sat obediently still, let Rus lave at his face, greedily licking up the spatters while Red watched the crimson smearing the deeper gold of his tongue avidly. The sudden flood of fresh arousal was startling, almost unwelcome.

Almost.

The way he figured it, Edge would only stand that for so long before he hauled them all off to their massive shower. The three of them standing together beneath the generous spray, the water pouring down on them about two degrees lower than the temperature of lava, exactly how Rus liked it. The probability of blowjobs or fucking was high and so was the chance of a nap afterword, Rus snuggled up against him blissfully well-fucked, his brother on the other side. A preciously rare gift from the Angel to make up for the slagging shithole of Red’s life before.

He'd guarantee that Rus would mumble out a sleepy ‘I love you’ for them both before drifting off and right about then, Red wanted that more than anything in the fucking world. Those three words, Rus, and Edge.

His, all his in a way no one’d ever been his entire life. Not even Sans.

Red didn’t have a fucking clue what game they were playing anymore. Didn’t matter, either. All he knew was that the fates were sore losers and that he didn’t give a shit.

He was playing to win.

-fin

Next Chapter

[yelenadelova]

Ursa, Ty Lee, and Katara :3 🍁

Hello Lov!!! Thank you for the ask!

Ursa: What do you like to do for self care?

Face masks are really good! Bath bombs are also nice! Really anything I don’t usually take the time to do that is nice and relaxing. Also just allowing myself a day to not try to do productive things.

Ty Lee: Do you like sweet or sour more?

Both are amazing and I do love me a good sour patch kid but I think I gotta go with sweet overall bc sometimes sour is too much for my tongue!

Katara: How stubborn are you on a scale of 1-10? 10 being the most stubborn.

Probably a 3.5 id say. I’m honestly quite a big pushover but sometimes on very certain things it’s hard to convince me if I really have my mind set.

ATLA Ask Game!

[ellaoftarth]

50 questions tag game

@moprocrastinates​ thank you for tagging me :) 

What is the colour of your hairbrush? blue

Name a food you never eat: meat and dairy (vegan here)

Are you typically to warm or too cold? too cold for sure

What were you doing 45 minutes ago? probably knitting

What's your favourite candy bar? hmm don’t have a favorite candy bar but my favorite candy is sour patch kids

Have you ever been to a professional sports game? I grew up near Pittsburgh so I’ve definitely been to a few sports games throughout my life.

What was the last thing you said out loud? Hey Mr. Brad ( just causal conversation with my cat)

What is your favourite ice cream? Hmmm either So Delicious brand oat milk s’mores or coconut milk cookie dough

What was the last thing you had to drink? sparkling water- blackberry

Do you like your wallet? it’s alright, I used it mostly at school because I was constantly taking out my student ID card but maybe I’ll change it (since I just graduated yesterday-YAY) 

What was the last thing you ate? air-fryed potatoes and a salad

Did you buy any new clothes last weekend? I don't know specifically about last weekend but I have been ordering some stuff online including a Brienne t-shirt from RedBubble :)

What's the last sporting event you watched? probably clips from Olympic gymnastics from a few years back on YouTube

What is your favourite flavour of popcorn? regular? or I guess salt and vinegar

Who is the last person you sent a text message to? One of my college friends

Ever go camping? no, but I’m not opposed to it. 

Do you take vitamins? yes, but sometimes I’m bad at taking them consistently

Do you go to church every Sunday? I did up until a couple of months ago, now I’m figuring things out

Do you have a tan? hahahaha no

Do you prefer Chinese food or pizza? Pizza

Do you drink your soda through a straw? yes, now that I have reusable straws in my apartment

What colour socks do you usually wear? black socks or fandom socks (i have far too many Game of Thrones socks haha)

Do you ever drive above the speed limit? Yes... but only 5-10 mph over

What terrifies you? oof that’s an intense question. But let’s just go with public speaking

Look to your left. What do you see? a green pillow

What chore do you hate most? probably laundry

What do you think of when you hear an Australian accent? Mike’s mic on youtube 

What's your favourite soda? diet coke or ginger ale

Do you go in a fast food place or just hit the drive-thru? I don’t really go to fast food places except Starbucks. Usually I go through the drive-thru though

What's your favourite number? maybe eight, but I’m not that attached to it

Who's the last person you talked to? I had a group chat with a few friends last night

Favourite cut of beef? none, vegan lol

Last song you listened to? according to Spotify “Good as Hell” by Lizzo

Last book you read? I’m currently reading “But What If We’re Wrong” by Chuck Klosterman

Favourite day of the week? Saturdays probably

Can you say the alphabet backwards? yes!

How do you like your coffee? vanilla latte with coconut milk

Favourite pair of shoes? I got these new cloth tennis shoes that are purple/pink tie-dye which are pretty cool

Time you normally get up? I wake up at 6 to feed my cat but then I sleep for a few more hours

Sunrises or sunsets? sunsets

How many blankets are on your bed? 1, but there are a ton scattered around my apartment

Describe your kitchen plates. I got these cool bowls that are each a different color and have a fun pattern on the inside

Describe your kitchen at the moment. pretty clean, I just have to clean one dish

Do you have a favourite alcoholic drink? probably vodka soda? I just turned 21 a couple of months ago so I don’t have a real favorite just yet

Do you play cards? yes! 

What colour is your car? blue-silver

Do you know how to change a tire? in theory, yes

Your favourite state? I really enjoyed visiting Washington.

Favourite job you've had? I worked in a plant pathology lab and really enjoyed that

How did you get your biggest scar? my biggest scar is probably from my excoriation disorder (dermatillomania) so not a really fun or interesting story. 

tagging: @welsharcher @nooooooooooooooooooooone and anyone else who wants to do this :)

[tilltheendwilliwrite]

Teacher’s Pet

Chapter One

Pairing: Chris Evans x OFC  |  Word Count: 3638 Warnings: None.

Summary: Annie Erikson and her daughter Teddy have always been a family of two. When a job opportunity arises Annie just can’t pass up, she and Teddy leave their small town of Dillon, Texas to move to Boston, Massachusets. Maybe the hot kindergarten teacher at Teddy’s new school will make them a family of three.

“Baby girl, everything is gonna be okay. You're gonna love you're new school. I'm sure your teacher is gonna be just wonderful. There ain't nothing to worry about,” Annie assured her daughter for the third time.

The move from Texas had been rough, but Boston was where her job opportunity had arisen, so Boston was where they went. That didn't mean Teddy liked it, nor had she understood why suddenly they had to move away from their little yellow cottage in Dillon and into the stately brick house in Boston's North End.

Theodora “Teddy" Erikson clutched Annie’s hand like a lifeline as they walked down the hall of her new school toward her kindergarten class. Principal Dickson was supposed to accompany them but had been called away last minute by a phone call which couldn't wait.

In the end, Annie preferred it this way as Teddy was too nervous for Annie to contend with the man trying to flirt with her. As a single mom, Annie had to deal with flirty men more often than she liked. But she and Teddy had done alright on their own.

Her husband Jack had died in a car accident shortly after Annie had learned she was pregnant with Teddy. It had been devastating, but Jack had come through for them in the end. His life insurance had set them up handsomely, but there wasn't much call for an Art Restoration expert in a town like Dillon.

Jack had coached football there, and Annie had given up her career to teach art at the local high school. She'd only stayed as long as she had after his death because Jack’s family insisted.

But when Annie had started painting again, it had reminded her of her love of art. After five years of wallowing in Jack's memory and legacy, she needed a change.

The Museum of Fine Art in Boston had offered her a lucrative position she couldn't say no to, Jack's life insurance and her savings from before their marriage allowed her to buy the house of her dreams, and see Teddy got into one of the best-rated schools in Boston.

And all it took was ripping her child away from the only home and family she’d ever known. Fresh guilt soured her stomach.

“Do I have to go?” Teddy whined.

Annie squeezed her hand. “Yeah, baby. But you're gonna make tons of friends and have the best time,” she promised, praying to God she wasn't lying to her daughter.

The principal had given her directions to Mr. Evans’ class, and Annie prayed a second time the man wouldn't terrify her daughter.

At the door, she paused for it was covered in colourful cutouts of different breeds of dog. The noise coming from the slightly ajar door was loud but lively, and she pushed it tentatively inward.

Mr. Evans had his back to the door and hands on his hips as he looked down at the grinning boy before him. “Really, Chris?” Voice laced with amused exasperation, the man shook his head. “I highly doubt your turtle ate your toes.”

“It's true!” the boy giggled.

“And if I were to turn you upside down and tickle your foot, I'm pretty sure they would wiggle around in your sock. Go on now. Play nice with Julie.”

“Mr. Evans! Door!” cried another little girl sending Teddy scurrying behind Annie’s leg.

The teacher turned around, and Annie tried very hard not to whimper. It was wholly unfair for a man who looked like him to teach kindergarten.

Broad shoulders beneath a white button up. Trim waist and muscular thighs in fitted jeans. Fluffy blond hair neatly trimmed, and a light scruff of facial hair. It made Annie’s mouth bone dry.

“Hi,” he smiled kindly, making his way closer. “You must be Annie Erikson.”

He held out his hand you somehow managed to shake. “Yes. Sorry to just barge in, but Principal Dickson got held up.”

“Not a problem. I'm Chris Evans. Welcome to Eliot Elementary School.” His handshake lingered a moment too long before he crouched and smiled at Teddy, peeking past Annie’s skirt. “And you must be Theodora.”

Again he held out his hand, but Teddy only hid her face.

“I'm sorry. She's pretty shy with new people, and the move has been hard on her.”

“That's okay,” Chris smiled. “Robin?” he called into the classroom and had a girl with pigtails skipping over.

“Yes, Mr. Evans?” she said with a slight lisp.

“Robin, this is Theodora-"

“Teddy,” Teddy whispered.

“Teddy, my apologies,” the teacher smiled. “Robin, would you like to be Teddy's buddy and show her around our class? Help her find her cubby and hang up her coat.”

“Okay, Mr. Evans!” Robin grinned. “C’mon, Teddy.” She held out her hand.

Teddy looked up at Annie in fear. “It's okay, baby.” Annie crouched and hugged her tightly. I'm gonna stand here and talk with y’alls teacher for a few minutes before I have to go to work. You go on and get settled.”

Reluctantly, Teddy released her to hurry after Robin and take the child’s hand. “Bye, mama," she whispered, breaking Annie’s heart.

Chris pushed to his feet then held out his hand to help Annie up. “Don't worry. This happens all the time. She’ll be fine,” he said kindly.

“Will I?" Annie asked, wiping away a tear. “I feel like I'm abandoning my baby.”

“Your first?” he asked.

“My only,” she sighed. “And without her daddy around, it's all the harder.”

“Mr. Erikson works away?”

“Jack died before Teddy was born.” Annie’s phone beeped, and she dug it from her purse. “Shoot. I've really gotta go. It's my first day too.”

“Give me your phone,” Chris said. “I'll put my number in it and text you a couple of pictures to show you Teddy’s doing great.”

Annie handed it over even as she frowned. “Do you do this for all the parents?”

A bit of a cocky grin flashed. “Not at all. But you're new to Boston, Teddy's all you've got, and I know what anxiety can do to a person.” He sent himself a text and handed back your phone just as a T-Rex appeared to roar from his pocket. “Got it. Go. Good luck on your first day. Teddy’s going to do great.”

She sent a glance at Teddy, already playing with a group of girls and sighed. “Thank you, Mr. Evans.”

“Call me Chris,” he smiled, shutting the door as she walked away.

Annie made it to her car before murmuring, “Chris. Least he’ll be easy on the eyes this year.”

***

Thirty minutes later, Annie was finishing up with security, getting her ID badge and passwords for the lab and computers when her phone vibrated in her pocket. Excusing herself for a moment, she pulled it from her suit coat and turned it over to find it was from Teddy’s teacher.

He’d put his info into her phone as Chris Evans, but her immediate thought was hot teacher. Then she unlocked the message and giggled for Mr. Evans was wearing a fuschia feather boa and sparkly tiara, while Teddy had on a pair of aviator shades which could only belong to the man crouched and smiling at the camera with her. Arms crossed, Teddy was giving her best sassy face as she leaned into her teacher's shoulder.

“Damn that’s cute,” Annie whispered, smiling at the image.

Teddy had insisted she had to wear her favourite dress, a red one with white polka dots, and her cowboy boots. Annie had given in on the boots but only because Teddy had agreed to let her braid the strawberry blonde mass of unruly curls the girl had inherited from her father.

A second image came through as she was admiring the first. This one was the same, but instead of smiles both student and teacher were making faces.

Annie snickered and typed out a quick reply.

A: Thank you for those.

C: No problem. She’s a sweet kid.

A: Takes after her father.

C: Pretty sure there’s a bit of her mother in their too.

Annie felt a blush burn her cheeks.

A: I would certainly hope so. She added a laughing emoji and put her phone away when Mark St. Pierre, her new boss arrived.

“Everything alright?” he asked.

In his mid to late thirties, the man wore tweed with leather elbow patches, had receding dirty blonde hair, and was round of face and waistline. He leered a little, and Annie made a mental note to wear shirts with higher necklines to work from now on.

Not that what she had on was in any way inappropriate. The peach blouse was comfortable, easy to work in because of its short sleeves, but the v-neckline did show a little cleavage. Her pencil skirt was beige, her heels short and sensible. A dark green suit jacket rounded out the ensemble and complimented the sleek chignon she’d managed to use to tame her chestnut locks. But just because she looked professional and put together didn’t seem to matter to her boss when his eyes lingered on her breasts.

“Fine,” she clipped the word and let her disapproval show on her face when his gaze darted up.

He only smirked. 

Great. She was working for a lecher. Fabulous.

“We’ve got her sorted, sir,” Stanley the older security officer said, giving Annie a sympathetic look.

Evidently, the museum’s curator was known for his roving eye. As long as he didn’t have roving hands, Annie could live with it. She was about to start her dream job. Nothing was going to take that away from her.

“Excellent! I’ll show Mrs. Erikson through to the lab and get her squared away with Anton.” Mark held out his arm for her, but Annie shrugged and held up papers, purse, and ID badge.

Mark frowned. “Here let me clip that on your jacket for you.”

“I’ve got it,” Annie said, pulling her hands away when he reached for the badge.

“It’s no trouble,” he insisted.

“Mr. St. Pierre,” she said sternly. “I am perfectly capable of pinning on my own badge, but I would appreciate directions to the lab.”

He looked taken aback before an angry flush filled his face. “Well, then. Right this way.” He turned on his heel and marched from the security office.

“Have a good day, Annie,” Stanley murmured.

“Thanks, hun,” she gave him a wink and a smile, having enjoyed her time with him. He’d been pleasant company and had grown up in a town not too far from Dillon. It really was a small world.

“Annie?” he called before she went out the door. “You be careful now, ya hear?” He shot a sharp look at the door.

“Ain’t nothing new, Stan,” she murmured, tilting her head in understanding.

***

Anton LaRoche, her direct supervisor, was beautiful, French, flamboyant, and very, very gay. Annie adored him.

He’d taken one look at her, shot a glare at Mark, and began to fawn, flutter, and touch the Museum’s curator in a way which clearly made the other man uncomfortable.

Mark muttered something about being needed elsewhere and hurried out of the sterile white lab.

“Annie, ma petit chou! You look très chic!” Anton complimented, taking her purse with one hand and raising her hand to his lips with the other. “Come, come. Anton will show you to your office, and then we will drink. Tea because these Americans frown when I drink wine at work,” he huffed indignantly. “Then, you can tell me all how you and your darling Teddy are settling into Boston. Oui?”

She laughed and let him lead her where he would. Anton had been the one to interview her, both via teleconference and then again in person. She’d liked him then, but after he’d rescued her from Mark, who had again tried to take her arm on their way to the lab, she was utterly in love with him now.

“Hun, if you weren’t happily involved and played for the right team, I would snatch you up for myself outta thanks for that timely rescue,” she giggled.

“Bah! That man is a chauvinistic pig!” he spat. “But he is good at what he does. Brilliant even. Still, if he gets out of line, you will tell Anton.” He pushed open the door to her new office.

Annie smiled in relief. While she loved the sterile white of the lab and its clean room, her office had been decorated in soft tans and dark woods. Walls of shelving were top-lit to highlight whatever art or items she chose to display. A large and sleek computer monitor sat on the wood and glass desk, and Annie made her way over to it.

Setting her papers down, she opened the monstrosity she called a purse and pulled out the picture of Teddy on her last birthday. An eight by ten of her with cake on her face and a smile the size of Texas, and a smaller five by seven of Jack standing on the fifty-yard line smiling at the boys he coached.  Both were set with pride beside the monitor before she turned back to Anton.

“She’s a beautiful girl,” he said, his smile soft.

“She’s my angel,” Annie agreed, touching the frame.

“And she likes her new school?” Anton asked.

Annie tugged her phone from her pocket. “Seems too,” she chuckled, showing Anton the first photo Chris had sent her.

“Mmm, bella! Is that her teacher?” He fanned his face. “Do not tell my Travis, but rowr!”

He made a clawing motion, and Annie burst out laughing.

“I know that feeling, hun,” she chuckled. “He’s even prettier in person.”

Laughing together, they went to have tea in Anton’s office, while Annie made a mental note to bring a few of her as of yet unpacked boxes to the Museum.

“I still cannot believe our good fortune of snatching you up, Annie,” Anton smirked as he pushed open the door to his office and made his way to the sideboard.

“I still can’t believe I’m back working,” she sighed. “But… I couldn’t stay in Dillon any longer. And I miss it. The work.”

“You were the best. When I heard you’d left the Louvre seven years ago, I will admit I shed a tear at your loss.”

Annie shrugged and smiled sadly when he came to sit in the chair beside her. “I fell in love. And Jack was never gonna leave those kids. It didn’t matter that I made four times as much as he did. Dillon was home. Those kids were his life, and for a while, the school and teaching art was enough.”

He reached out and patted her hand. “Well, I am most excited you are here. Tell me, are you painting again?”

She shook her head. “Not like I used. Maybe now with the house and all, I can have my studio again, but…” she sighed. “It hurt too much after Jack… and setting up at the school used to irk the parents who thought their son or daughter had so much talent and my work would upset their delicate feelings.” Annie rolled her eyes. “It was a crock of shit because the kids used to love to watch me work.”

“Bah!” Anton huffed. “People are assholes! Is why we work behind the scenes in the lab, non?”

Annie chuckled and nodded. “Oui.”

***

Three hours later, Annie had discarded her jacket in her office and was bent over staring through a magnifying glass at a horribly yellowed varnish on a Greco canvas when her phone buzzed.

A quick glance had her heart jumping when she saw Chris’s name again. Was something wrong? Did Teddy need her?

She swiped the lock screen away and breathed a sigh of relief when the short video played. Teddy and a group of three other girls were playing hopscotch laughing and giggling away. Then the camera turned, and Chris was there, wearing the aviator shades from earlier. “I wanted you to know she’s made a few friends. See you soon, Annie.”

He smiled, and she felt it on a visceral level.

“Ma petit Annie. That man has a wee crush, I think,” Anton chuckled.

“After a five-minute conversation in which I blubbered a little?” She snorted. “I think you’re romantic side is slipping.”

“We shall see. When the hot teacher asks you out, and that is a when not if, you will owe me lunch,” he teased and wandered off to continue cleaning the statue he was working on.

***

Promptly at three, Annie was waiting outside the school for the bell to ring. It had been a bit of a hassle to get out of the building when Mark had, again, caught her in the corridor and asked her to dinner.

Annie had tried to be nice, let him down with a simple, “I’m sorry, but I really need to pick up my daughter,” but Mark had continued to follow and hound her and ask after different dates and times until Annie had come to a stop a few feet away from where Stanley and another security guard stood watching. At that point, she’d had enough. “Mr. St. Pierre. I am not now, nor at any time in the future will I ever be interested in dating you. Please do not ask me again, and I would thank you to keep your hands to yourself from now on. Good day, sir!”

She stalked off fuming and still had not calmed sufficiently to be dealing with her excited five-year-old. When her phone rang, and she glanced down to find Janice, Jack’s mama and Teddy’s grandmother calling, Annie sent her to voicemail.

That was the last thing she needed to deal with right this second. Janice could wait until after dinner, giving Annie time to gird her loins and Teddy time to calm down after the excitement of the day.

When her phone rang a second time, Annie sighed, shut off the ringer and rubbed her forehead before pulling her hair out of the sleek updo. Janice was going to be impossible to deal with after ignoring her twice, and her hair was giving her a headache.

The mass tumbled down to the middle of her back, and Annie breathed a sigh of relief.

When the bell rang, Annie pasted on a smile and walked closer with the other waiting moms, or in some cases, nannies she was sure, but then the doors burst outward, and all the troubles of her day vanished in the light of Teddy’s smile.

“Mama!” she cried, arms out as she raced toward Annie.

“Hey, darling! How was your day?” Annie asked, crouching down to hug Teddy so tight the girl giggled.

“It was great, mama! Mr. Evans is so nice!” She leaned closer and whispered in Annie's ear, “Don’t tell no one, but he let me wear his sunglasses.”

“Did he now?” Annie smiled and glanced up to see Mr. Evans making his way through the sea of children and adoring women.

They all touched him, a hand to his arm or shoulder, but he excused himself each time, stating he would have to speak with them later, avoiding everyone with skill.

“Teddy! Wait!” he called, a package of papers in his hand. “Annie,” he said with a slightly crooked smile.

“Mr. Evans,” she smirked.

“Chris, please,” he murmured, holding out the papers. “We need you to fill out these forms for Teddy’s school record. Health insurance, emergency contact, all that.”

“I'm pretty sure I already did that,” Annie said, cocking her head. Damn the man had the sexiest blue eyes.

“Really?” he asked, the surprise almost passing as genuine. “Must be some mistake at the office. Would you mind filling them out again?”

A dimple appeared with his cheeky grin which had Annie reaching for the paperwork. She’d always been a sucker for dimples.

He crossed his arms over his chest afterward, causing his shirt to stretch when his incredible pecs seemed about ready to tear straight through the cotton. “How was the first day?”

She licked her lips and lifted her gaze back to his, the boyish grin stating he knew exactly what she’d been admiring. “Had its ups and downs,” Annie said cryptically. “See you tomorrow, Mr. Evans.”

“Chris,” he said, his grin never wavering. “See you tomorrow, Teddy.” He held out his hand, and she gave him a high five.

“You betcha, Mr. Evans!” Teddy chirped and skipped toward the car.

“Annie.” Chris tilted his head, his smile softening.

She arched a brow as she turned away. “Mr. Evans.”

He only laughed and watched her walk away before wading back through the sea of women and kids on his way to the school.

As the door was open, Annie heard him say, “Now, Ms. Cooper. There's no need for a private chat when Duncan is doing just fine. And while I'm flattered by the offer of dinner, Ms. Jones, I'm afraid I'm going to be busy for the foreseeable future.” He smiled, but dismissed them both with a curt nod and headed inside.

Annie made sure Teddy was buckled in before pulling away from the curb, allowing her daughter's cheerful chatter to wash over her on the short drive home.

Annie. Chris hadn't called her by her last name, not once. He always called her Annie.

Next Chapter

[wabatle]

Sour patch kids with my bgg hyoma plz 🥺🥺 fem reader and also i notice that you still had like oct first and all the days before today on your list of fics and how dies that work??? Those days are alrdy gone?? Also idrc which day you do the fic i just want it to be whenever you finish ig lol tyy 🥰🥰

「 ✦ Flufftober Day 1: Chigiri Hyoma ✦ 」

☽｡⋆Genre: Sour patch kids (angst to comfort)

☽｡⋆ Warnings: you and chigiri have a fight :(

☽｡⋆ Contains: gn!reader, angst, comfort

All it started with was a comment, and the situation was already escalating. You don't even remember what you said.

“Fine. If you don't want me here so bad, then I'll just leave.” You had told him.

Now you were curled up in your bed in your own house, crying and regretting what you said.

And fuck, it hurt being away from him. You didn't even know what you should say to him to apologize.

Your phone rang. Chigiri's caller ID flashed on the screen, and immediately you moved to answer it.

You hesitated, your finger hovering over the button before you slowly answered.

“Hello…?” You asked, your voice hoarse.

“Baby, where are you?” He asked.

“Home.” You replied.

“Can I come over? Please?” He asked.

“...” You paused. “...Okay.”

“Be right there.” Chigiri replied.

Within minutes, he showed up at your door. When you opened it, he immediately hugged you.

“Hyo—”

“I'm sorry.”

His desperate tone shocked you.

“What I said… I didn't mean it. I–I’m so sorry, (name).”

You hugged him back tighter.

“I'm sorry too. I didn't mean what I said.”

You stood in your doorway tangled together for a few more seconds before Chigiri spoke.

“So… are we good?”

You paused. “Yeah. We're good.”

“Thank god.” He said, kissing you. “I don't think I could go another second with you being mad at me.”

☽｡⋆ Slowly I'm catching up!! ヽ（≧□≦）ノ

☽｡⋆ Flufftober event

[thecabinsixwitch]

headcanon on reddie's first fight??

Okay I’m sorry this took a stupid long time to get to, but here we go. I hope you can still enjoy it!

- Okay so Richie and Eddie are on a roadtrip, just the two of them looking to get away (it was Richie’s idea)

- They stop at a gas station to refuel Richie’s truck but also because Richie wanted to get a huge load of shitty snacks that he knows his body will yell at him for later

- Eddie rolls his eyes at him, the way he’s scooping up several packages of twinkies in his arms, and heads to the bathroom

- Richie watches him round the corner, and then dejectedly puts the twinkies back on the shelf

- he walks up to the checkout counter, all head down and shifty eyes, and mumbles to the cashier, for the first time in about two weeks since he stopped:

- “uhtwopacksofwinstonspleasethanks.”

- “What’d you say, kid?”

- “T-two packs of Winstons, please.”

- “Gotcha. ID?”

- Richie hands it over, looking back over his shoulder to make sure Eddie hadn’t come back (he always was very quick in the bathroom, Richie noticed), but he hadn’t

- “Hey, kid.”

- Richie turns his head back, slightly startled

- “I asked you if you wanted a bag for these.”

- “Oh. Sorry, uh.. No-no thanks.”

- Richie takes the two packages of cigarettes and puts one in each of his deep front pockets

- him and Eddie get back on the road, $27.92 emptied from their pockets combined in snack fees (mostly from Richie’s Sour Patch straws and bags of Chex Mix)

- they drive and drive, Richie playing Eddie all of his favorite songs

- However, Eddie notices he doesn’t sing along or dance in his seat quite the same as he always does when playing them, and it rubs him the wrong way

- at the next stop, he asks him if he’s okay when they step out of the truck

- Richie nods unconvincingly, and Eddie narrows his eyes, putting a hand on his arm

- “Come on. You’ve been weird ever since we left the gas station, what’s…” He drifts off, eyes heading down to Richie’s pockets, seeing a tad bit of the top of a package peeking out

- “Oh, fuck you. Damn it, Rich.”

- Richie follows his eyes down, and clumsily fumbles with the package, trying to come up with an excuse but it falls out, and he’s caught

- Eddie takes out the other one out of his other pocket, and looks into his eyes, quiet, but hurt

- They had talked about this. Eddie wanted Richie to quit. He told him, and told him, and told him. Damn him.

- “You got these when I was in the bathroom,” Eddie chuckles, completely devoid of any genuine laughter or ounce of positivity.

- Richie doesn’t say anything, guilt ripping him right through as he remembers Eddie’s constant wishes for him to stop. He never liked the fact that he smoked, even when they were younger.

- “You did. Didn’t you?”

- Richie nods, the package of Winstons still clutched in his hand

- Eddie scoffs, thinking to himself. He nods ever-so-slightly, but understands completely, and opens the door to the passenger’s side again. His voice breaking, he says “Fuck you” one more time, and then shuts the door, sitting inside the truck

- after a minute, Richie climbs inside. He restarts the car, and they drive the rest of the way in silence

oOF this was heartbreaking. I thought it would’ve been interesting, Eddie making the effort to get Richie to stop smoking, only to find he went behind his back to continue. Thanks for the request!!

[freeyourheartandsoul]

Here Comes Goodbye. Part 1: Lydia

Prompt: So, I had this idea. Lydia sees Allison again after her death. Hope y’all like it.

Author’s Note: Title is from Rascal Flatt’s song, but it’s not based off the lyrics. 😊

Warning: Grief & Loss

Master List | Watt Pad

Here Comes Goodbye.

Part 1, Lydia

“ALLISON!!!” Lydia sat straight up as she woke in a cold sweat, the nightmare that haunted her sleep forcing her awake. Only it wasn’t just a nightmare. It actually happened. It’s reality. Her best friend was dead, and it was her fault. She killed her best friend. Allison died saving her, and that’s something that will haunt Lydia for the rest of her life.

She rubbed at her burning eyes as they started to fill with more tears. Nothing seemed to be able to stop them the last few days. Sleep only replayed the nightmare. Trying to think of only the good memories with Allison only brought bittersweet tears. Not even distractions helped ease the heartache or guilt. There was no escaping it. There’s only pain, grief and a dark void in her heart that only her friendship with Allison could fill. No in-between.

Bzzz bzzz bzzz bzzz – The sound coming from her nightstand pulled Lydia from her inconsolable thoughts, if only for a minute. As soon as she saw the caller-id on her phone, her heart sank further – Chris Argent. She had been ignoring dozens of messages and calls since that night, unable to face them just yet. Maybe ignoring her friends was a bit selfish seeing as how they, too, were grieving the loss of a friend, but she just couldn’t bring herself to respond. The guilt was already there. She didn’t need to be reminded that she took Allison away from them as well.

However, this call she couldn’t ignore because whatever selfish reasons Lydia may have, Chris is the one that lost his daughter. He had more reason to grieve than anybody. So, she turned on the lamp before grabbing her phone and answering the call.

“Hello?” The sound of her broken voice enticed her to clear her throat.

She heard a sigh come through the speaker before his voice followed, “Lydia?” The sound sent shivers down her spine. It was shaken and cracked, the sound of a broken and grief-stricken father.

“Hi, Mr. Argent.” She greeted, trying not to let her own emotion break through.

“I, uh, I’m sorry to bother you,” Chris started. “I could just really use your help with something.”

Lydia swallowed hard, not sure she could handle whatever Argent was about to ask of her. “Sure. Anything you need.”

Argent sighed again, “I know this might be a lot to ask, and that it will probably be emotionally difficult, but not only are you a young lady, but you were also Allison’s best friend.” There come the tears again. “I just… I don’t know what she would want to wear.”

“Say no more. I’ll get right on it.” Her voice was thick with emotion as she fought back the tears, needing to be strong for him. She had no doubt he was feeling the same.

He grew silent, but she heard him sniffle just before speaking again. “Thank you, Lydia.”

“Of course.” With that, they said their goodbyes and ended the call. Lydia put her head in her hands as a sob finally burst through.

---

Chris and Lydia stood outside Allison’s bedroom door, readying themselves to go in. Neither could bring themselves to twist the knob and push the door open. Lydia was sure that Chris hadn’t stepped foot into Allison’s room the last few days. It was clear on his sunken face. No matter how much he tried to “compartmentalize” his emotions, Lydia could tell he probably hadn’t eaten or slept much. She couldn’t blame him, either. He’d lost so much the last few years. His sister, his wife, and now his only child. Lydia didn’t know how he did it. He was strong, that much she knew.

“Um, I can handle this if you have other things you need to take care of.” She offered, trying to compartmentalize her own emotions to be there for the father of her best friend.

He looked down at her, eyes glazed with tears as he nodded, “thank you.” Lydia nodded as he squeezed her shoulder when he walked by. He was halfway down the hall when he stopped and looked back. “Lydia?” She turned to look back at him. “Don’t blame yourself, okay? It’s not your fault.” His words instantly brought tears to Lydia’s eyes, but she held them at bay. “Whether it was one of her best friends, me, or a stranger…” Chris’s jaw clenched as he looked away, obviously fighting his own emotions. “She would have done the same thing. It’s who she was.”

All Lydia could do was nod in appreciation, fearing that if she opened her mouth, she would break. That was the last thing Chris needed. She waited until she heard the front door close to finally blink so the tears fell down her cheeks. She gave herself a minute, sucked in a deep breath and wiped away at her face before opening the door to Allison’s bedroom. “You can do this, Lydia. You have to.” She whispered.

Stepping into the room, a wave of sadness instantly washed over Lydia, but she could also feel Allison’s presence. She didn’t know if it had to do with the fact that she’s a harbinger of death or just because it was Allison’s room. Either way, it comforted her. Glancing around the room, it was evident no one had been in there since Allison. A few clothes still scattered the foot of the bed and the bench seat. The bed wasn’t fully made. There was even half a pack of Sour Patch left open on the desk, Allison’s favorite. The room even still smelled like her, French lavender and honey.

Lydia walked further into the room, sliding her hand across the desk and studying the photos stuck to the mirror. A few with her family, a few from her stay in Paris last summer, and a few with her friends. One with her, Lydia, Scott and Stiles from last year’s winter formal before everything went to hell. One of her and Isaac from the rave a few weeks ago. The photobooth shots of her and Scott when they went ice skating. A shot of Stiles and Allison laughing as Lydia stared at the camera. Then Lydia’s eyes landed on one of her and Allison in a fit of laughter. She tried so hard to remember what it was from, but all the memories seemed blurry and meshed together.

She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to focus on each individual memory. It wasn’t working, though. Lydia took the photo of her and Allison and collapsed to her knees. “I’m sorry.” She whispered as tears brimmed her eyes once again. “I’m so sorry.” She choked out in a sob as she put her head in her hands.

Suddenly, a hand touched Lydia’s shoulder, causing her to jump a little. When she turned to see who it was, her breath hitched. There, kneeling beside her, was Allison. Lydia didn’t know what to say or do. All she could do was stare in shock. “Allison?” She managed to finally muster out in a shaky voice.

“It’s really me.” Allison responded with a teary smile to her best friend.

“Wh… ar… how…” It’s rare when Lydia’s stunned speechless, but this was definitely one of those moments.

“Your guess is as good as mine.” Allison said with a simple shrug.

“Can I hug you?” Lydia cautiously asked.

Instead of giving Lydia an answer, Allison pulled her in for a tight hug. As soon as they embraced, that dark void in Lydia’s heart felt full, even if only momentarily. She knew this wouldn’t last. For now, though, she had her best friend back.

“I’m so sorry.” She cried repeatedly into Allison’s shoulder.

Allison pulled out of the hug and held Lydia at arm’s length. “You need to listen to my dad, Lydia. This wasn’t your fault. This isn’t anyone’s fault, okay? I chose not to listen when you said not to look for you. I chose to save my best friend. I chose to help Isaac. I chose to try to stop the Oni. I did. Not you, not Scott, not Stiles, not Isaac… me.” Lydia’s chin started to tremble as more tears fell. Allison’s brown eyes stared directly into Lydia’s green ones, “and I’d do it all over again in a heartbeat.”

Lydia swallowed hard as she tried to let Allison’s words sink in. “How are we supposed to survive all of this?”

Allison laughed, and Lydia couldn’t help but smile. “Are you kidding me? You are some of the strongest people I know. You’re smart, resilient and intuitive. Most importantly, you have each other. So, don’t push each other away.” She gave Lydia a knowing look, insinuating that she knows Lydia hasn’t been talking to anyone. “Lean on each other.”

“How did you do it?” Lydia asked once she remembered that Allison killed an Oni. “How did you kill the Oni?”

Allison grinned a little as she stood up, “Isaac and my dad will figure that out.”

“But Allison…” Lydia stood as Allison walked over to her closet and pulled out a dress.

“This one.” Allison said as she held it out to Lydia with a small smile on her lips. The dress was a simple long sleeve, black cotton that fell just above the knee. The middle and cuffs were synched with crochet. Very Alison.

Lydia was confused for minute, completely forgetting what she came here for in the first place. As she remembered, all she could do was nod as more tears filled her eyes. “I’ve gotta go, Lydia.”

“What? No, not yet. Please.” Lydia plead, stepping closer to her best friend.

“It’s okay. Everything’s going to be okay. I promise.” She pulled Lydia in for one final hug.

Lydia held on tight to her best friend, not wanting to let go. If she did, Allison would be gone forever. Who knew if they would ever get to see each other again. With all that they’ve experienced with the supernatural, she found it hard to believe that they wouldn’t, but there was no guarantee. It was crazy to think that two years ago, they didn’t even know each other. Now, Lydia couldn’t picture life without Allison in it. She had become her best friend, her sister, and now she had to say goodbye forever.

“You have to be strong, Lydia.” Allison whispered as she felt Lydia’s tears soak through her blouse.

Lydia nodded with a sniffle as she pulled away. “Love you,” she whispered.

“Love you, too.” Allison smiled sadly as she felt herself getting pulled back. “Take care of everyone for me, please.” She was starting to get emotional as well, not wanting to leave again.

All Lydia could muster was a simple nod. Her best friend was about to get taken away from her again, and she could barely hold it together.

“Goodbye, Lydia.”

Lydia sucked in a shaky breath, not ready to say goodbye, but knowing she had to. If she didn’t get to this time, she knew she’d regret it. “Goodbye, Allison.”

With that, Allison was gone again like nothing had happened. Lydia was still crumbled to her knees on the floor, and the dress Allison picked out was still in the closet. Since she still didn’t have a firm grip on her powers, what she could do still amazed her sometimes. She couldn’t help but wonder, though, if that visit was actually because of her banshee powers or if it was just some supernatural thing. Could Allison visit anyone else? Scott? Isaac? Stiles? Her dad? Oh, God. Lydia could only imagine what it would be like for Chris. Maybe it would give him closure or a little bit of peace.

Now Lydia could only hope that her friends could experience what she just got to with Allison. Sure, it wasn’t nearly long enough, and all Lydia did was cry, but at least she got to say goodbye. Maybe Scott could tell her the he loved her one last time. Stiles could get his own feeling of guilt off his shoulders only for her to assure him it wasn’t his fault. Isaac could admit how he felt about her. Chris would be able to say goodbye and find a little peace knowing his daughter is okay.

If only the supernatural worked that way.

The End.

[mauledbyabear-archived]

i love max bc i was telling her that i got her a only a couple things for valentines day and i was feeling bad bc id only spent like 15 dollars but she was like no i just got you a bunch of packs of sour patch kids and im like oh thank god