#in my life i will never. never stop thinking about alright cowboy go get ‘em

[ilostyou]

what if ..… poker eddie ……. calls poker buck ……….. cowboy ……………….

[doctors-star]

hi its me im back again #43 for lister/rimmer? (a non-cowboy alternative)

“I’ve never met a more stubborn person in my life.” “You like it.” “Do I?”

-

Lister taps his fingers against the iron girder. It’s painted the same red as the Dwarf, but chipping and loose - probably also like the Dwarf, only he’s not been out to have a gander in a while. Always seems to be something else to do these days.

He sighs heavily. Picks a flake of paint loose. Resists the urge to fidget.

“I spy-”

“Oh, Christ, we’re not that bored already are we?” Rimmer whines, and Lister allows his head to loll to his right. It puts his face within inches of Rimmer’s cheek, and though it makes him go a little cross-eyed to do so he can clearly see that yes, Rimmer is that bored.

“Well, we’re trapped for the foreseeable future in a pile of rubble and girders in an abandoned derelict, with no comms and no hope of rescue until Krytes and Cat can be bothered to come lookin’,” Lister points out calmly. “We can play fortunately-unfortunately instead if you want, but I don’t think this is going to get less boring quickly.”

Rimmer sniffs and glowers at the ceiling of their weird rubble igloo. It had, of course, been heart-stoppingly terrifying for a while; Lister had smacked the door release idly with the side of his fist, the doors had opened, and he and Rimmer had entered, bickering all the while so enthusiastically that what had happened after that was still a mystery to Lister. The upshot, crucially, had been that the ceiling had fallen in in a shower of sparks and trailing wires and laid them both out flat under slabs of metal panelling, chunks of what looked like concrete, and a few girders for colour. One is neatly pinning Lister’s hips to the floor, there’s a large amount of concrete on his ankles, and Rimmer is buried in metal sheeting up to his sternum, but on the bright side they can both breathe and nothing seems to be broken. Not that Rimmer could break, anyway, being as he is entirely made of solid light.

This had not stopped Lister from being apocalyptically terrified for a good thirty seconds after impact.

“Is it rubble?” Rimmer asks at last, with a tone of deep dissatisfaction.

“I didn’t even tell you the first letter,” Lister says, trying not to grin at Rimmer.

Rimmer shifts his head to gaze, unimpressed, at Lister.

“It was, though, yeah.”

Rimmer looks as though he wants to laugh, and also to despair of him; it makes his face twitch like a ferret in a sack. Lister presses forward an inch to drop a kiss on the end of his nose, because that usually makes the twitching worse. “Menace,” Rimmer says, flinching back to glare, cross-eyed, down his nose at Lister. But, you know, affectionately. Lister beams. “I can’t believe we’re stuck here waiting for two mentally-incompetents to rescue us,” Rimmer sighs. He fidgets his shoulders, shifting the panelling, and winces.

“Stop moving, man,” Lister says in a voice which he hopes is calming.

It isn’t; Rimmer thrashes about a bit like he’s being electrocuted, which makes the whole rubble pile shake in a deeply worrying fashion. He does, however, manage to work his left arm free and shake it triumphantly in the air. “Dead arm,” he says in explanation - and then, very casually, so subtly that the motion occurs in neon with bells on, he rests the hand on top of Lister’s girder. Next to Lister’s fingers. And then Rimmer doesn’t look at his hand, the girder, or in Lister’s direction at all, so Lister takes the hint.

“Dead everything, mate,” he says helpfully, sliding his fingers under Rimmer’s palm and giving his hand a squeeze. Rimmer’s frame relaxes ever so slightly, as though that threatened slight rejection had worried him more than the whole mild peril of their situation. Neurotic bastard. “Speaking of,” Lister adds, rubbing his thumb over the back of Rimmer’s hand, “you don’t have to wait for Kryten and Cat. You could go softlight, wriggle on out, and go get ‘em.”

Rimmer’s hand tightens briefly on his before carefully relaxing. “No-o,” he says with forced casualness, “I’ll wait.”

Lister nods. “Very helpful. You just wait here to avoid the walk. Can’t have you tirin’ yourself out. If I starve to death, I want the lightbee every two weeks, alright?”

“I am not arranging a timeshare with our afterlife!” Rimmer objects sharply.

“You smegging well are,” Lister corrects cheerfully. “If you kill me through inaction, you owe me at least some of your time. You promised, remember-” he says smugly, pressing as close as he can until his nose is pressed into Rimmer’s cheekbone. “Spend the rest of our time together, forever-”

“Exactly,” Rimmer sputters, face turning a very impressive red at the reference to their little...agreement. “Together - which we won’t be, if only one of us exists at a time.”

“You’d better go an’ fetch us some rescue then, eh?” Lister says, smiling into Rimmer’s jaw to make him squirm. “Or else.”

He can feel the muscles in Rimmer’s face twitch slightly with the effort not to turn into Lister’s ministrations and give up on the argument - only that would mean losing said argument, and that usually requires more attention than Lister can give with his body pinned to the floor. By something that isn’t Rimmer, that is. “Ah, but you said we’d stay together,” Rimmer points out firmly, voice only ticking up half an octave when Lister starts kissing at the hinge of his jaw. “Death do us part, you said.”

Lister grins and picks up their joined hands, nudging them towards the small gap in the ceiling that a lightbee, and corresponding intangible human shape, could easily fit through. “An’ you’ve already kicked it, so off you pop,” he says brightly.

Rimmer sputters indignantly for a bit, but makes no move. After a moment, the grumbling resumes, and Lister can’t help a sigh. “Where are those two, anyway? Even they ought to have noticed by now-”

“Rimmer, mate you literally don’t need to be here,” Lister says, impatience bleeding into his tone as he pulls back slightly. He doesn’t miss how Rimmer shifts minutely into his space before reversing quickly.

“Well, I’m not going,” Rimmer says, fingers tightening around Lister’s.

He shakes his head and lies back, staring at the ceiling. “I’ve never met a more stubborn person in my life,” he says.

“You like it,” Rimmer retorts immediately.

“Do I?” he replies, voice tired and dry. But he rolls his head back to face Rimmer. He knows Rimmer better than anyone in the entire universe; of course he had caught the wheedling note in Rimmer’s voice, the flash of insecurity, the minute increase in the grip on his hand. And sure enough, Rimmer’s eyes are wide and slightly worried, and then his face turns quickly away, schooled into something snide. He wishes Rimmer wouldn’t do that; has no hope that he’ll ever stop. Lister picks up their joined hands and gently knocks their knuckles against the girder three times. “Well, it’s still annoying,” he says eventually. “But as long as I don’t starve here, I’d still rather have you with me than not. So.”

Rimmer waves a hand idly. “Eat your own leg, or something.”

Lister gives him a thumbs-up. “Will do.”

They lie quietly for a while, listening to the rubble creak and groan, and to a mysterious dripping sound which, every third drop, fizzes with a decidedly electrical sound. There’s a lump of something digging into his spine, and his foot is rapidly going numb, but Rimmer’s hand is pleasantly warm and solid in his own, his breathing regular and steady in the half-light, and it is - god help his standards for living - not half bad. Lister is, despite himself, quite glad that Rimmer is more stubborn than a bull-headed pig when he wants to be.

He’s glad, too, to be something Rimmer gets so stubborn over.

He is quite bored, though.

“I spy-” he begins again.

“It’s girder this time, I know it,” Rimmer says quickly. “I am not playing this with you.” Lister closes his mouth. “It was panel, actually - and look, what do you want to do? Arguing didn’t take up as much time as I had hoped-”

“You picked a fight to pass the time?!”

“Yeah, only, it was a really rubbish argument. Unfortunately.”

“Well,” Rimmer says, sounding as self-important as a man can when being crushed by sheets of metal, “fortunately, we love each other far too well to ever argue.”

“Unfortunately,” Lister says, grinning at the barefaced lie, “no-one with an IQ over seven would believe that.”

“Fortunately, I know my audience,” Rimmer says smugly, eyes dancing and smile so cheerfully obnoxious that Lister has to laugh, he just has to, not least for the way it makes Rimmer’s whole face soften into something gentler, and more fond.

He squeezes Rimmer’s hand and feels it squeeze back. “Unfortunately, you’re stuck with him,” he murmurs, eyes dropping helplessly to Rimmer’s lips.

Rimmer smiles, small and genuine. “I’ll survive,” he says.

[boognish-worshipper]

Midnight City AU

it took me forever to decide where to go with this chapter and i was literally getting fed up editing it 😭 i’ve been so busy with all the chaos goin on in my life rn too so yeah writing’s been feeling delayed over all but i decided to just finalize this one for rn and uhhh sorry if it seems funky or shortttt

//Chapter 3: Vanished

The next day, Trevor went back to Sterling Lake Park, after spending the night at Wade’s. He agreed to meet up with him there later, walking around the park with his earbuds in. As he threw himself down on his usual bench, he settled on listening to his usual playlist of his favorite songs. He scrolled through nosedivr once again, taking a photo of the lake. It was foggy, and the thick air sat atop the water. He liked when it was like that. A sturdy drumbeat thumped in his ears, making him feel whole. He paused it briefly, just to change it to a different song that was even louder, but with the lack of music he could now hear the crunch of gravel not too far away. He thought he told Wade to come later on? He looked up from his phone, pulling out an earbud. It was the guy from yesterday.

“Hey.”

“Hello.”

“Where’s Amanda?” He asked, glancing around.

“Uhh she’s.. not here today. I kinda came to see if you were here. I wanna get to know more people at this park if I’m gonna hang ‘round here more I guess.”

“But she doesn’t like me?”

“She don’t gotta know.”

“Well aren’t you Boyfriend of the Year.”

“Oh uh, we aren’t dating yet.”

“Thought she was your girl though.”

“She is, she is. But it’s nothing serious. Not yet. And I don’t know what happened between you guys but you don’t seem that bad, so if I wanna talk to you that’s more of a her problem than me.”

“Huh.”

Today Michael wore an eCola shirt, which was obviously made to resemble their old logo, with blue jeans. He had on a pair of red sneakers this time to match the color of the shirt. They looked slightly newer, compared to the pair he wore yesterday. He dressed nice for such a basic style. Trevor on the other hand, threw on an old, frayed Love Fist t-shirt, and messy jeans. He wore a different pair of boots, some kind of knockoff of a popular name brand. A pair of purple lensed circular glasses sat on his head, the nose pieces caught in his hair.

“So.. uh. Mind if I sit there?”

“Not like I own the bench or anything, go right ahead.”

He cautiously sat next to Trevor, hands in his lap. Trevor started one of his other playlists up again, settling on a mix of Paramore and Green Day. He left an earbud out, just so he wouldn’t be completely rude. He mindlessly scrolled, occasionally looking back at the lake or casting a sideways glance at Michael, who was looking at him funny. Sighing, he paused his music, putting his earbuds away.

“What.”

“I.. nothin’ man. I just, I dunno. What is the point of coming here?”

“It’s a public fuckin’ park man.”

“I know, but you said that you don’t even really like the people here, so what’s the point?”

“There is no ‘point’ to it. I just like time to myself is all. These guys don’t bother me, and I don’t bother them. They only start trouble when they see fit.”

“Ah… I see? What were you listening to by the way?”

Trevor stifled a groan, not really wanting to talk to the guy when he had time to freely plot his scheme.

“Pop punk shit. Ever heard of it?”

“Uh, no? I thought punk wasn’t supposed to be popular. Or fit in. Or whatever.”

“That’s merely the ideology, which I do follow, dear Michael. I just like the sound I guess. You know Paramore?”

“Not really. I don’t listen to that stuff much.”

“Then what the fuck do you listen to?”

“Not sure if it has a genre per say, but I like that song Radioactive goin’ around? Songs that sound like that I guess.”

“You like Imagine Dragons?”

“That’s what they’re called?”

Trevor could only stare at him. Was this guy living under a rock?

“Uh.. yeah. Y’know what- never mind, what else do you listen to?”

“80s music?”

No wonder this guy was unaware of who’s popular now.

“Amanda’s been trying to get me into groups like the 1975. I actually kinda like them.”

Trevor rolled his eyes.

“Of course she did.”

“They’re not that bad to be honest. She likes that weird alternative shit.”

“Yeah, I know. By the way, there is a name for that genre. Indie rock. Can’t stand the stuff.”

“How come?”

“You know, you ask a lotta fuckin’ questions.”

“I’m just tryna understand this shit here. I ain’t in the loop of all these trends.”

“Well, for your information I just find the style to be too slow and whiny for my taste. I like fast, upbeat, wild stuff.”

“Any recommendations then? I wanna impress Amanda by at least knowing one artist off that nosedivr thing she goes on.”

He raised a brow, not really wanting to share anything else knowing he would just repeat it back to her, but he shrugged and continued.

“Alright. Besides pop punk, I like experimental songs. Underground groups. Crystal Castles are my favorite.”

“Never heard of ‘em.”

“Wouldn’t expect you to.”

“Right.”

“If you want more indie rock shit though, I suggest listening to I don’t know, the Arctic Monkeys? That seems more like her taste.”

“These bands have such weird names.”

“I think bands have always been like that.”

“Hey wait a sec, I thought you didn’t like that stuff? How do you know the name of one of those groups?”

“Ugh… I guess I might as well say it if you’re gonna get with her, but we were friends at some point. She introduced me to those bands, but even then I didn’t really like it. We had a stupid falling out I’d rather not get into.”

“Oh.. sorry.”

“Eh, don’t be. Shit happens. You definitely seem like her type though, no wonder she got with you.”

“What’s her type?”

“Heh. As if I’d tell you.” He scoffed.

“C’mon man, please?”

“Nope.”

Michael frowned, slumping in his seat.

“Fine. Whatever. Not like I need to know.”

“You could at least pretend you don’t care.”

“I don’t.”

“You clearly do, bro.”

He sat arms crossed, turning a smidge away from Trevor. This was his opportunity to listen to his tunes again, but before he could Michael spoke up.

“Can I… can I listen to whatever you’re listening to?”

“Huh?”

“I wanna hear what you’re into.”

Trevor shot him a puzzled look.

“Uh.. okay.”

Wiping off an earbud, he handed one to Michael. He already had one in.

“Pick your poison cowboy.”

“Cowboy?”

“Just a nickname I give people.” He shrugged.

Michael settled on his experimental music, actually nodding along to the sound. They were closer than a minute ago, and it made Trevor uncomfortable for whatever reason. Maybe because he was never in such close proximity to strangers, but the other part of him didn’t care that much. Michael’s eyes were closed, smiling.

“You like it?”

“Yeah! Reminds me of synth stuff from the 80s, just more modern I guess.”

He smiled back at Michael, appreciating the fact there was someone else who liked the music he liked. The two listened to a couple different playlists he had, up until the moment Wade arrived at the park.

“Trevor! Hey!”

“Woah. Who’s your friend?”

“Hm?” He pulled out the single earbud, turning his head around. Wade had clown makeup on, making Trevor jump in his seat.

“Fucks sake. Hey Wade.”

“Ooh who’s this?”

He wasn’t sure if Wade freaked him out or not, seeing as the guy not only had matted locs, but many facial piercings as well. And the clown shit. He stood up to introduce them to one another.

“Wade, this is Michael. Michael, Wade.”

The way Michael looked at him was like a kid seeing a zoo animal for the first time. He looked bewildered, but not disgusted.

“Hi. What’s with the..?” He wavered a hand in Wade’s direction.

“Oh! It’s jus’ clown face. Not tryna scare ya or nothin’!”

“Uh huh… man. How have I never been around these parts? You guys are real different.”

“You got that right, Mike.”

“Seems like I’ve been missin’ out. I hangout with some dudes who would hate this place if I’m being honest.”

“I’ll have to meet ‘em sometime.” Trevor chuckled.

“They’re real cool guys. Didn’t expect our paths to cross, but anything’s possible in this fuckin’ city.”

“Oh yeah. Land of opportunities, for all types of wackjobs.”

“Ain’t that the truth.”

A hand tapped Trevor on the shoulder.

“Uh, excuse me, Trevor, but are we still gonna talk about the Merryweather thingy-”

“Wade! Shut it-”

“What Merryweather thing?”

“Nothing, nothing. Not important.” He said, gritting his teeth, glare strong on Wade.

“Okay..”

“But you said we’d talk about it over icecream!”

“Later, Wade. Not right now.”

“Fiiine. Can we still get icecream though?”

“Sure. Promise. I’ll let you know.”

“Okay! Bye Trevor, bye stranger!”

Michael lifted a hand to haphazardly to wave goodbye.

“What was that about?”

“I told ya man, nothin’. Just going over some plans we’re making.”

“Is it about that special event being held there?”

“How you know about that?”

“Mandy told me.”

“Mandy… yeah. Figures as much.”

“She got an invite, and wants me to go as her plus one. I don’t know if I really wanna go though, I’m still pretty unfamiliar with all this.”

“Trust me, you don’t.”

“Seriously, what is your beef with those guys?”

“I told you, they start shit when they want. Taught ‘em a lesson and that was it. Nearly got me banned from this place, but it was kinda worth the looks on their faces.”

“You are.. quite peculiar y’know. Anyway, you mind showing more of that music? I was honestly gettin’ a kick outta it.”

“Uh, yeah.”

He sat back down next to Michael, handing him the same earbud as before. He clicked on one of his favorite Crystal Castles songs, Vanished. As they were listening, Michael furrowed his eyebrows.

“Hey wait a minute.. I think I’ve heard this before.”

“You have? I thought you didn’t know them.”

“No, I mean yeah I haven’t, but that’s not it. The lyrics. Vocals. I’ve heard them in a different song.”

“Oh.”

“Lemme think, lemme think, ah… I got it! Pass me your phone real quick.”

His fingers typed in the song title fast, pressing play right away. It was an indie rock song, much to Trevor’s dismay. But something stopped him from complaining, seeing how Michael’s face lit up.

“Yeah! This is it, Sex City by Van She. Y’know, I honestly think that’s neat.”

“What is?”

“The fact that a song you like, samples a song I like! Who would’ve guessed?” He said, eyes sparkling. Trevor didn’t notice how bright they were until now. The eye contact, along with the lack of space between them, made him feel stuffy again. He averted his eyes back to his phone, trying to loosen up a bit. As the song played, he savored in the sound, shocking himself a bit. The rock sound was there, but had an 80s sort of feel to it. The song finished before he knew it.

“So.. What’d ya think?”

“You know my thoughts on indie shit. Wasn’t for me, sorry.”

“Oh c’mon, you know you liked it.”

“Nope. Prefer Vanished.”

“Yeah, okay. Keep telling yourself that, but I honestly think they’re both really good. You think that too, I can feel it.”

“Whatever you say bro.”

He switched the song over to that Grimes song he listened to yesterday, the two of them sitting silently. It was a pleasant afternoon they shared. Suddenly Michael’s phone went off, and he yanked the earbud out.

“Ah shit. I gotta take this. Mandy.”

“Gotcha.”

Trevor grabbed the other earbud, putting it back in. He saw Michael wave his free hand around, looking close to hurling his phone right into the lake. Trevor assumed he must’ve been shouting as well, from the way other people were looking at him. Hanging up not much later, he returned to the bench, as Trevor put his earbuds away.

“Fuckin’ Christ.”

“So.. how’d it go?”

“She’s finally not mad at me anymore, but demanded I go take her shopping now. I swear, she’s gonna clear out my bank account or something.”

“How? You guys aren’t even dating.”

“I know, but I just can’t say no to her.”

“Uh huh.”

“Look, I’m sorry to leave so suddenly, but I really gotta go before she goes back to being pissed at me. See ya around?”

“I’ll be here man.”

Michael stood up, storming away. Seemed like he had a short temper, huh? He wondered to himself how long he was gonna stick around, seeing how Amanda’s dating history was… an extensive list. He thought back to last night, when he had seen that post of them, remembering the fact that no guy stayed for longer than a week. It almost made him bummed, seeing as he only had Ron and Wade for friends. Lester too, but that was on rare occasion. Shit. The plans. What time was it?

“Ah, fuck me.” He muttered. How did he let the day go by so quick?

He shot a text to Wade, telling him to grab Ron and meet at some icecream place. He did promise Wade after all.

Ron ended up meeting them there a little bit later, apologizing profusely before Trevor told him to just sit down and shut up. He did just that, almost apologizing once more.

“Now, let’s get down to business. Who do we know that would help us sneak into that club to cause sheer utter mayhem?”

Ron raised his hand excitedly.

“I could get Floyd maybe-”

“Definite fuckin’ no. He would have a heart attack the minute he set foot in there.”

This was getting nowhere. He tossed his head back to look up at the sky. As he did, he saw a couple walking out of the icecream place.

“Oh fucking hell.”

Was this guy following him or something? He snapped his head forward, trying to be a little more hidden.

“What? Trevor what is it?”

“Shh! Keep your fucking voice down Ron!”

He made all three of them lower their heads as the couple walked away, peeking over his shoulder to make sure they were gone. As he did, he could’ve sworn he saw Michael looking back at him. The both of them turned away as quick as possible from the split second of eye contact.

“Trevor?” Ron repeated.

“It was nothing. Just thought I saw someone.”

“Ain’t that the Michael fella I met today?”

“Nope. Don’t think it is.”

“Are ya sure-”

“Pretty fucking positive. Now, back on topic.”

The next hour or so still went nowhere. Wade had gone through two servings of icecream, and Ron started to get restless. Trevor was just bored.

“Ughhh there has to be something we can do!”

“I don’t know what to tell you Trevor. We’ll find someone, soon. There’s enough time isn’t there?”

“Yeah, but I’m not waitin’ til the last possible fuckin’ second to get a guy to help us out here.”

“But we still have time.”

“If you fuckin’ say so Ron.”

The three of them called it a night, as Trevor tossed around the idea of possibly getting Michael involved in his head. On one hand he wanted to out of spite just to make Amanda and the other hipsters mad, and on the other he didn’t want to screw up whatever new friendship he had started with Michael. Ron did say they had time to find someone soon. They weren’t exactly in a rush, but he still wanted to make sure their plan was concrete. They all went back to Wade’s, Trevor deciding to take a walk along the beach. He threw on the same playlist from earlier, watching the sunset. As he walked, he didn’t pay much mind to where he was going, bumping into someone.

“Ah fuck, watch where you’re going-”

“Shit, sorry man-”

As they spun around from the collision, he realized exactly who he had run into.

“Trevor?”

What the fuck?

“What the fuck? Are you following me or something?”

“Huh?”

“This is the third time I’ve seen you today. What are you even doing here?”

“Uh, it’s a public fuckin’ beach man.” He said, mocking the comment Trevor had made earlier.

“Don’t get smart with me.”

“Hey, I’m just tellin’ you how it is. I didn’t purposely search for you, hell I didn’t even know you lived this way.”

“I do. So make like a tree and fuck off.” He said bitterly.

“Woah, chill the fuck out. What’s your deal? I thought we were cool man.”

“I don’t like being followed.”

“I just told you I wasn’t!”

“It doesn’t exactly seem like it. You just so happen to look for me this morning, and just happen to go to the same icecream place I went, and then I find you here? I mean Jesus-”

“I’m telling you, it’s all purely coincidence.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“Fuckin’ hell man..” He mumbled.

“Y’know, you’re as fuckin’ stubborn as Amanda is. I already told you-”

Trevor balled his fists, before jabbing a finger into Michael’s chest.

“Don’t fucking compare me to her.”

Michael threw his hands up defensively, not realizing he touched a nerve.

“Woah woah, easy dude. I didn’t think it was that bad between you guys.”

He exhaled loudly, unclenching his hands.

“It wasn’t. Isn’t. Just.. don’t compare me to her.”

Michael pinched the bridge of his nose, exhaling hard himself.

“Look, I think you’re cool and all but you can’t flip out on me like that. I mean we are just getting to know each other y’know. I can’t have you wanting to bite my head off like that if I just so happen to keep running into you. I really am just trying to navigate the area better, so forgive me if I came off as some sorta fuckin’ stalker. Amanda went home and I had nothing better to do so I chose to walk over this way.”

“Hmph. Fine. Whatever.”

“So we good?”

“Yeah.”

“Good. Now, since we’re already here why don’t we just hangout or something?”

Trevor folded his arms, trying to look like he didn’t want to spend another minute with him. It didn’t really work though, because he actually did want to talk to him more.

“If you insist.”

“Alrighty.”

The two of them started to head in the direction of the boardwalk, neither one speaking yet. After finding a bench to sit on as the sun sunk below the horizon, the silence was still there. This sort of thing was bizarre for both of them in different ways. Michael never really frequented these parts of LS, and Trevor never really hit it off with any kind of stranger. Ron and Wade were exceptions if anything, and he had known Lester for a while now. Yet there was something about this guy that didn’t make him feel like he was spending time with a stranger, even though he knew jack shit about him. He might as well try to make small talk.

“So I-”

“So uhh-”

They spoke over each other while trying to start up a conversation, making things feel a little more awkward.

“Shit sorry, you go first.”

“Nah nah you go.”

“Um. Okay. So.. tell me about yourself? We haven’t really talked about much besides music.”

“Yeah.. right. What do ya wanna know?”

“I just asked you to tell me about yourself, so it’s your job to decide what to say.”

Michael gave him a sardonic smile in response to that, partly because he wasn’t sure what to bring up about himself. It seemed like they were gonna be here a while if they wanted to say the most basic shit you say when getting to know someone.

“Well, I ain’t that interesting if you really need to know. I’m guessing you already know about my whole ‘affinity for the 80s’ thing, like the culture n shit that came from it. Real sick stuff.”

“If you say so.”

“Yeah. Anyway, if you really want to know plain shit about me though, I will tell ya that my favorite color’s blue.”

Trevor snickered at that.

“Pfft, seriously? We’re talking favorite colors now?”

“Hey man, you said you wanted to know more about me.”

“Uh yeah, but that’s so fuckin’ silly.”

“Maybe it is, but what about you? You got one?”

“Favorite color? You kiddin’?”

“I’m waiting..”

“Uh huh… I’ll give. Always liked the color red I guess. Like, in variety. Not picky about something as childish as that.”

“What’s childish about that?”

“Cuz only kids exchange that whole ‘oh what’s your favorite color?’ thing. It’s like if I were to ask you what your favorite dinosaur is.”

“Hmm.. I’d probably say a T-Rex.”

“Oh now you’re just pulling my dick. And no, I’m not telling you what mine is just because you did.”

“Hey, I didn’t ask you though. That was all you.”

“Mm… shut it.”

“You got one though?”

“I’m not telling you!”

“Ah ah, I didn’t ask which one, I asked if you had one.”

“Well I don’t, so knock it off.”

“That’s fair. I won’t push.”

They grew silent for the second time that night, before Trevor mumbled something under his breath.

“It’s a pterodactyl..”

“What was that?”

He forced a breath through his nose, acting annoyed.

“It’s a fuckin’ pterodactyl. That’s mine. Okay?”

“Hah, okay. Any reason why?”

“You’re so nosy.”

“You’re the one who started this conversation about getting to know each other man.”

“Ugh, I know that.” He said, lightly shoving his shoulder.

“I think it’s cool that they could fly and shit. I like flying.”

“You like flying?”

“Loved it.”

“Wait, you tellin’ me you fly? Like, planes and shit?”

Trevor winced at the words, regretting what he just said.

“I did.. at some point. Air Force shit. They said I was one of the best they’d seen in a while but I.. left. Sort of.”

“Then why’d you leave?”

“I didn’t exactly leave on my own accord. More or less got kicked out.”

“How come-”

“I don’t like talking about it. I know we’re opening up or whatever the fuck but that.. that’s still too soon for me to want to bring up. Especially to someone I barely know.”

“Sorry.”

“It’s okay.” He said, even though it really wasn’t. It’s not like Michael knew though, he really wasn’t trying to prod in a bad way.

It was almost pitch black by the time their conversation got to that point, only distant streetlight and the nearby pier lighting up their surroundings. The whole mood had shifted, and both of them decided to just break it off there.

“Hey uh, I’ll probably see you tomorrow man. If I’m with Amanda I think I’ll just send a wave or something your way.”

“Got it. See ya.”

“Bye.”

Trevor stayed put, watching Michael leave as he turned down a random one way street. This guy was tripping him out and he couldn’t pin point why. It was getting late though, and walked off himself back to Wade’s. He’ll save that vexed question for another night.

//ahhhhhh i rlly did not know what i wanted to do with this….,,., sorry if this wasn’t as good as the first two !! i alrdy know i repeated a bunch of stuff in there and i feel like it got kinda sloppy so again, soz (including typos or whtevr)

but uhhhh anyway yeah i cut it off here bc i wanted to continue some of this shit in the next chapter ig lol,, more stuff to come soon god willing

[coffeecakefanfics]

Rocky Mountain Skies

So I live in the 719 (CO) and I have been DYING to write about it so here’s this hot ass mess Also it’s my first multipart story on tumblr so bear with me (I’ll do a part two because omg) 

Christmas is a magical time of year where families get together and revisit the political opinions of the past month but turn around and gift each other things. For the (L/N) family it was no different. 

(Y/n) waltzed through the bullpen, coffee in one hand, phone in the other.  

“Yes mom I’ll be home for Christmas,” she set her things down and sat at her desk, “No mom I already requested the two weeks off, I’ll be fine,” her sigh caught a few peoples attentions.

“Mom seriously, I get into Denver Sunday at 11, papa already said he’d come pick me up. . .  yes mom I know how old he is but you don’t have time remember, besides it’ll be nice to see him. . . Mom I gotta go I have a meet- yes mom I’ll let you know when I get to the airport. . . Mom I have to go byeee” She clicked her phone and leaned back, letting out a long groan. 

“Mom troubles?” Derek smirked.

“You have NO idea, I love her but she needs to chill,” she smiled. 

“Well I think it’s sweet,” he toys.

“Of course you do, go to work,” she shook her head teasingly. 

“All right, all right,” he laughed and walked off. (Y/n) stayed seated at her desk for a majority of the day, skipping lunch to finish files.  People stopped by to make small talk while she worked, which she happily sat through.  As the day continued on people started packing up their things to head home.  It was quiet, the only people left were (Y/n), Spencer, JJ, and Hotch.  

(Y/n) Stretched, popping her back, before getting up and walking around the desks.  She set her hand on a chair and spun it so the messy haired man was facing her. She smiled at him brightly.

“Hey Spence”

“Hi, uh, is something wrong?”

“No I just wanted to talk to you is all,” she sat on his desk.

“About?” he looked at her curiously.  He watched the way her hair set on her shoulders and framed her face, the way her waist dipped and hips bulged slightly, the way her thighs squished when she sat. He forced his eyes beack up to her and felt his face go a little warm.

“You know in the past three years I’ve been here I don’t think I’ve seen you take a vacation, and it’s none of my business if you save it or whatever but I was curious, why?” her face twisted in thought.  He sat for a second and thought. 

“Well I mean I go “home” occasionally, but I guess I’ve just never had a desire to go anywhere,” he shrugged, “I mean all we do is travel for work so I guess it never really crossed my mind” he smiled at her. 

“Well, I uh, look I have an extra plane ticket back home. My ex was supposed to go with me but we broke things off a few months ago.  So I guess I’m trying to say if you want to, you could come with me.  I mean you totally dont have to and I mean-” 

“To Colorado?” he quirked his eyebrow.

“I mean, yes? but only if you want to, I mean you’re my best friend, and closest one so I figured I’d ask before getting a refund,” she twisted her foot into the ground.

“Do I get a cowboy hat?”

She looked up surprised and laughed, “Duh”

“Then I’ll go”

The two weaved through the airport traffic.  The building was loud and crowded and both were getting antsy.  (Y/n) clutched her bag tight as they maneuvered through the crowds of people.  Finally making it outside, the cold mountain air bit at their skin. A old man stood at the end of a row of cars holding a huge sign 

‘(Y/N) (L/N)’ written in huge letters decorated the sign. 

“Papa!” she cried and dropped her bags, getting swallowed into a hug that itself felt like home.  Spencer stood awkwardly by watching the two.  

“Where are my manners, My Name is Jim (L/N) but you can call me Papa.  You must be Spencer?” The man, Jim introduced himself.  He was only about 5′10″ and was clad in a red and white pearl snap with stained coveralls over top.  His face was covered mostly by a long Beard and Mustache and he had a pair of glasses perched on top of his head. 

“Oh, uh yes sir I’m Spencer,” He smiled at the man who held his hand out.  Spencer shook it gladly. 

“Well we need to get you kids home. Granny is making soup for dinner,” he bent down and picked up (Y/n)’s bag and rolled it to a old pick up truck, may be ten years old Spencer guessed. He stared at the backseat for a second, his stomach turned, maybe this wasn’t the best idea, maybe he shouldn’t have came, I mean I’m being so awkward an- 

“Spence what are you waiting for?, hop in,” (Y/n) called from the back seat.  He blinked a few times at her before jumping in and closing the door. She leaned over to him, “I didn’t want you to be alone back here,” she pulled back and smiled. 

“Thank you,” he breathed a sigh of relief.  As close as they were he had never met her family.  He had spent countless nights sitting on her couch easting Chinese food while they finished files or watched bad movies but he still felt nervous being around her like this. 

“So Spencer, where are you from?”

“I’m from Vegas,” he replied meekly.

“A gambler huh?” The old man grinned at him in the rear view, “you any good?” 

Spencer laughed and shook his head, “I guess we’ll have to see,” he teased back.  Jim laughed and smiled at his granddaughter. 

“i like this one”

“You like him just because you’re bad at Texas Hold em” she playfully rolled her eyes.

“Hey whatever gets the money,” he laughed again.  It was a laugh that filled you with joy.  Spencer finally understood where (Y/n) got hers from.  

“So Spencer, I know a feller like you can’t be single, so do you have a lady back in D.C.?”

“PAPA!” (Y/n) shrieked, “Don’t go running him off already, good god” she shook her head.

“What I’m curious, he’s a handsome man,” Jim grinned. Spencer was full on burning at this point. 

“No sir, I’m single,” He almost mumbled out.

“You know who else is single. (Y/n),” Jim wiggled his eyebrows. (Y/n) glowed the same red that the poor man next to her did.

“Papa oh good god.  Stick to breaking horses not my love life, and besides you’re gonna make him regret coming here before he even sees the ranch,” she rolled her eyes.  Spencer actually laughed.  The two of them were obviously close, it was . . . nice.  It was a nice break from what they deal with every day.  

The rest of the car ride went by semi fast, (Y/n) explained all of her plans for the two of them while they were here.  She was almost glowing with excitement. The wooden fence that stretched along the property line came into view as the truck began up the drive.  A gorgeous two story log cabin came into view behind a row of evergreens.  The wood was a beautiful light brown, and towered over the yard.   A old lady was standing on the porch dressed in a fleece nightgown and brown slippers.  She waved as the truck stopped.  The group jumped out and began grabbing bags. 

“There’s my baby girl,” the woman hugged (Y/n) tightly.  She had her same eyes.  The woman stood maybe 5′2′ and had a pink and white fleeced nightgown on.  Her grey hair fell in neat curls down her back.  Her face was wrinkled and warm, the kind that you know showed so much joy in her younger years. 

“And this must be Spencer, You’re even more handsome in person,” she cood at him. 

“grandma!” 

“It’s alright. Yes ma’am I’m Spencer,” he smiled at her, “It’s a pleasure to meet you both,” he grinned. 

“Oh where are my manners, lets get you babies inside and warm,” she ushered everyone in.  “(Y/n) baby your room is all set up, but um there’s been a change of plans,” The lady frowned. 

“What Dawn is trying to say is that your mom and your stepdad are staying in the last guest room, and your cousin Rita is in the other”

“WHAT!” (Y/n) yelled. “Mom said her the Stepdouch were staying home for Christmas! I was promised to get you two to myself. And Rita!” she was fuming. Spencer set his hand on her shoulder, trying to bring her back to earth.

“We know baby but she insisted that you wouldn’t go see her if she stayed,”

“Of course not, not after what she did!”

“And Rita is your cousin, at least try to play nice,” Jim begged. 

“No, Not after what they did!” (Y/n) was breathing ragged, anger radiating off of her body. 

“Hey, uh why don’t you help me to my room?” Spencer forced her to look at him.  She sighed and grabbed her bag.

“Okay” she grabbed his hand and began through the living room up the stairs.  Spencer admired the “family” room on the balcony overlooking the living room. (Y/n) led him around the bend and over to the room. She popped the door open and let him inside. She followed and closed the door after her. 

“So since my cousin Rita took the guest room we’ll have to share this one, I’m really sorry. I have an air mattress that I can sleep on and you can have the bed. This isn’t how I wanted this to go, I’m sorry,” she spoke almost in tears.

“Hey you didn’t know and I’m kicking you out of your bed, I’ll sleep on the air mattress, besides we can always still do everything you planned. We’ll be okay,” he smiled and held her face.  She let a tear fall. 

“I know but this was supposed to be a fun trip for you,”

“It will be, what’s more fun than two weeks without work,” he smiled and pushed her hair behind her ear. 

“It’s only like one, so would you show me the property?” he smiled.

“Sure, but we need to get you a new wardrobe,” she laughed. 

“Hey what’s wrong with my clothes?” he spun for her. 

“Well for starters you’re in loafers and there’s snow on the ground, and second I do owe you a cowboy hat,” she grinned. “Come on lets play dress up”

The two of them sat in the attic surrounded by boxes of old clothes.  She held up a nice quilt lined coat, identical to the light brown one she had on. 

“That should fit, he was about your size,” she smiled and handed him the coat. 

“Who?” he asked and examined the inside of the coat when it stared him right in the face. 

‘Merry christmas daddy, (Y/n)’ stitched on the tag.  his heart stopped.

“(Y/n) I can’t accept these, these meant the world to you I-”

“Spencer please, I’d rather you have daddy’s stuff than any of those other brats,” she sneered. “It’s the only other thing I got from him when he passed.  He would’ve liked you,” she smiled and pulled a bunch of pearl snaps out.  Spencer's heart leapt.  We slid the Carhart on, it sat nicely against his body.  She looked up from the boxes. 

“Whoa” she gasped. “Spencer you look, just wow” she grinned. 

“Wait I have one more thing,” she rushed off to the back of the attic.  She returned with a box wrapped in red wrapping paper she smiled and handed it to him.  He pulled the top of the box off.  Inside sat a nice dark brown felt hat with a brown leather strap around it.  It was adorned with a small gun charm on the leather strap. 

“(Y/n) this is, this is way too much,” he looked up at her.

“I bought it for you last year, I remember you saying you wanted to be a cowboy so I figured I’d buy it but I forgot it last time so there,” she beamed at him.

“Well, try it on,” she ushered  He set the hat on his head, a perfect fit.  

“Well?” he spun

“You look like a true cowboy Spence,” 

They walked the property talking for hours.  The air grew cold and bit at their cheeks. 

“Hey do you want to see my favorite spot?” she asked

“Of course,” he grinned.  They walked out into the woods behind the house before coming to a clearing.  The sun was beginning to set.  The mountains had a purple haze but the sky was bright blue.  Golden streaks danced across the clouds.  The clearing was full of dry grass and thistles that would become tumbleweeds when it got windy. 

“(Y/n) this is amazing,” he breathed the fresh mountain air.

“This is my favorite part of being home, the Rocky Mountain Skies.  They seem to dance with color.  I forget how pretty they are when I leave,” she smiled and watched the clouds float by. 

“Why did you leave?” Spencer asked.  He turned to look at the girl next to him.  She looked small in her coat and her hair was messy from the light wind. 

“After my dad died. My mom got with my Stepdouch a month later, the will had been “lost” the will that would have granted my this ranch.  The only reason I got it was Papa and grandma claimed they needed a place to live so I mean it’s theirs.  My mom got mad because she wanted to sell it.  and my cousin Rita wanted all of my dads horses, thousands of dollars worth of horses that she and my mom fought over and split the money on.  That wasn’t dads vision, they never cared about this place. Mom moved us into town, So when I turned 18 I left,” she shrugged. 

“I’m so sorry (Y/n)” he hugged her. 

“It’s okay. So why did you want to be a cowboy?” She teased.

“Well I mean every little boy wants to be a cowboy, I wanted to catch the outlaws, or maybe be them I’m not sure,” he laughed. 

“(Y/N), SPENCER, DINNER!” Dawn yelled to them.  

“Race you there” she smacked his chest and took off.

“No fair!” he called after her. 

[cham-chammity]

MORE STRIKER X BLITZ (kind of) FLUFF BECAUSE I CAN'T STOP WRITING IT

It had been an exhausting day at work—more like a week—for the two imps who lay burnt out on the couch. It had been nothing but demanding clients and complex assassinations for the past few days and they just needed a break. Letting out a heavy sigh, Striker turned his head to look towards his boyfriend, who sat rubbing his temples. 

"Sometimes when I’ve had a stressful day, a nice trip to the tub is always nice.”

Blitz turned and snorted in response. “No way I have the slightest energy for any dick-wadding playtime after that damn mob family shit we dealt with today.”

"Oh, no no. A legit, calming bubble bath. With candles and soft music playin’. Used to do that a whole lot whenever I was sick or stressed as a kid.” Striker stood up and stretched, letting out a long, dragged-out yawn. “I’m with ya on the no energy for 'dick-wadding playtime’ as you call it either,” he chuckled. 

Blitz hummed in response before standing up himself. “Sounds quite nice actually. I think I have some candles in the closet over here I got a while back.” Blitz walked out of the living room, and Striker headed towards their bathroom. He drew a warm bath and poured some soap, making it nice and foamy. The bathroom became steamy from the hot water and faintly smelled of lavender from the soap. Blitz walked in with some rose scented candles. 

"Sorry about the scent. Not sure if you’re into florals. I kinda like the smell of flowers, especially from the living world,” Blitz laughed nervously.

"Oh, no way, I do too,” Striker smiled in response. “Screw them girly-girl stereotypes, as my aunt always told me. It’s alright to like the smell of flowers.” Both imps (unaware they were thinking the same thing) took a mental note of that for future date and gift ideas. 

Striker walked out of the bathroom and came back with his phone, searching for some music to play. “Any music suggestions, Blitz?”

"Hmm… calming, but romantic,” he smiled, while starting to strip down. Striker did likewise after making up a new playlist (which took no time considering he was a music freak, and knew way too many good artists of the like; being the hopeless romantic he is.) 

Blitz lit the candles after he finished undressing himself. Afterwards he dipped his foot in the tub before cursing at the temperature of the water. “Ah, fuck! The water is way too damn hot, you said warm, not scalding.” 

Striker lightly laughed at his reaction. “Guess I like ‘em hot,” he winked at the crimson imp. 

Blitz jokingly rolled his eyes in response. “Enough of the foreplay, you flirt.” Blitz slowly edged himself into the water anyways, eventually finding himself getting used to the temperature. Striker eased himself in next to his mate, sitting just in front of where Blitz now sat. 

"You mind washin’ my hair for me, partner?” Striker asked, passing Blitz a bottle of shampoo. 

"I thought you’d never ask.” Blitz proceeded to wet down his hair and poured the shampoo in a clawed hand, and started lathering and massaging Striker’s scalp. Striker closed his eyes and took in the senses around him. The smells, the music playing, Blitz gently massaging his head. A smile spread across his face as he was finally able to relax. 

"Quite the dorky smile you got there.”

Striker took a moment to respond but kept his eyes closed. “You can’t see my face, I ain’t facin’ you.”

"I can’t see it but I can sense it,” Blitz teased. He then washed the rest of the shampoo out of Striker’s hair.

When Blitz finished Striker turned himself around to face Blitz, catching the crimson imp off guard as he planted a soft, gentle kiss on his lips. Blitz sat in surprise for not even a moment before melting into the kiss, wrapping his arms around his boyfriend. Striker cupped Blitz’s face with one hand, slightly deepening the kiss, making Blitz hum in response. After a few moments he positioned himself to lay on top of the crimson imp. They continued to exchange long, soft kisses, melting into each other's arms, the warm water and bubbles making the moment feel even more intimate. 

Soon enough their tongues started to explore each other’s mouths, running along teeth and lightly nibbling on each other’s lips. Blitz ran one of his clawed hands through the paler imp’s hair, and Striker lightly caressed the crimson imp’s face with a thumb. Their tails intertwined as they continued their soft, passionate makeout. 

Every once in a while they parted for a breath of air, only to lock lips again in need of each other’s touch. They occasionally kissed and licked down each other’s necks, leaving little love marks on one another, claiming their significant other as their own. Blitz let out soft purring noises and hums in response, as Striker did likewise. 

The two imps savored the moment, never speeding up, never going further; just expressing their love with one another through long, soft kisses and light nibbles. Blitz certainly enjoyed this himself. He was always kinky, rough and fast in previous relationships. But he had to admit, he definitely liked the slow vanilla stuff Striker had to offer. 

Eventually, the two imps parted, gazing into each other’s hooded eyes. Their faces were lightly tinted from the physical and intimate heat, and were lightly panting from their lack of air.

"God, I love you.” Both imp’s eyes widened in surprise. Oh shit, they both said it. At the same time. For the first time. Striker softly smiled and planted a soft kiss on Blitz’s forehead. 

"I love you,” Striker said again. 

Blitz smiled back and responded. “I love you too.” 

They once again exchanged a few soft kisses before getting out of the tub and draining the water. After drying off they went to put on their pajamas and layed in bed to cuddle in each other’s arms. 

"You know," Blitz started, "my mind is always racing. Going a million miles and hour thinking about satan knows what. But when I'm with you, I feel calm. Safe."

Striker softly smiled, rubbing small circles at the base of Blitz's spines. "Aw, that makes me happy." Striker paused for a moment. "I make ya feel safe?"

"Yeah, but not like the traditional 'I'll beat any ass up who will lay a finger on you' safe. More like... I know I won't be pushed around or mocked at. I can be myself without secretly hoping deep down inside you won't snap at me and reject me, or worse..." Blitz trailed off, letting out a heavy sigh. "I've never felt pressured or judged when I'm with you. For once, someone actually.. cares about me."

A deep pang hit Striker in his chest as he silently listened. It shattered him knowing Blitz was used and belittled most of his life. With the circus, past relationships, Stolas... Nothing made Striker's blood boil more than how Blitz had been treated in his past, and even now with the muddled mess of the rich-ass owl overlord.

"Well, darlin', anyone who has or does disrespect you certainly don't see past the surface. They tend to look at the tip of the iceberg. Graze the surface n' form an image of their own. But as for me, I look deeper. For strengths, weaknesses, traumas. There's a whole lot more than the present and future. Everyone has a past, everyone has something frozen under the surface. We just havta.. look for it. Accept and acknowledge it's there."

Blitz sat in silence at a loss of words. "I--" he paused and bit his lip. "I don't know what to say. But, thank you. I needed to hear that."

Striker intertwined his tail with Blitz's. "You don't have to say anything, Blitz. Now it's getting late. You should probably get some shut-eye. Sleep well, partner,” Striker whispered, planting another kiss on Blitz’s forehead. 

"You too cowboy.” Blitz’s words were hardly audible as he snuggled closer, falling asleep with his face buried in Striker’s chest. 

Thankfully, they had no work tomorrow, and both imps got a good night’s rest for the first time in a long time; accompanied and safe in each other’s arms. 

[mudhornchronicles]

dreamboat | greaser!frankie morales | part two

diner cred to @thatretrobitch​

pairing: francisco “catfish” morales x reader; 1950’s greaser!frankie x reader

warnings: swearing, drinking, smoking, ya know… 1950s stuff + death and war, and being rude af

a/n: part two of dreamboat

masterlist

dreamboat: part one | part two

“If I didn’t know any better, Francisco, I’d say you were teacher in a past life.” You look up at him and smirk. He looks over to you and gives you a crooked smile. He adjusts his jacket and runs his left hand through his hair.

Frankie taught you a lot more history than the teacher. Frankie had a lot more patience and explained each topic that was covered in much better detail and simply enough to understand. Like when Hattie Wyatt Caraway of Arkansas became the first woman elected to the U.S. Senate in 1932 to fill the vacancy caused by the death of her husband. Frankie compared it to the demonstration of the first long distance telephone service between New York and San Francisco in 1913 – surprising but needed.

You didn’t have Frankie for a third period, just first and fourth, but he made sure to meet you out each of your classes and walked you over to your next class. He had conversed with the boys about asking you to Rosie’s Diner on Friday night. Everyone knows when a guy takes a little darlin’ down to Rosie’s, she’s unavailable. Frankie knows you probably don’t know what going to the diner with him means but he assumes if you did, you wouldn’t go. So he decides that the less you knew the better – well at least that’s what Tom decided.

“Ya know, doll. I like the way you say my name, but how ‘bout ya just call me Frankie, huh? I don’t use the entire thing anymore.”

You cock your head to the side and your smiles turns into a slight frown. “Do you not like the way Francisco sounds?”

He tucks his hands into his jean pockets, shrugs, and looks down at his dirty Chuck Taylors. “Thanks, I do like it, but it don’t… it don’t sound cool, you know? I got a reputation to keep up – all the guys do.”

Frankie stopped using the name Francisco at the start of freshman year. Pope stopped using Santiago around the same time. Their teachers would call them Francis and Saint because they found it difficult to pronounce the boys’ names correctly. Frankie was too shy to say anything and Pope was still unsure about his accented English, so when Will laughed and told the teacher, “Ain’t that a bite? You got a degree, but can’t pronounce an ABC name,” the boys knew Will was going to be a great friend. The boys thought that would be the end of it, but then Benny decided to join his brother and say, “How ‘bout, since ya feel so high and mighty, you call ‘em Frankie and Pope? We got Francisco like that city on the west coast, so call ‘em Frankie. Then we got Santiago. You wanna call ‘em Saint, then give ‘em the highest honor.”

“Well, if it makes you feel better,” you stopped walking and placed a hand on his arm. “I like your name. I think it suits you very well.”

He smiles and nods. He doesn’t know if he’s nodding because he’s convincing himself he likes it too or if he’s nodding because he’s glad you like it too. He liked your company because you weren’t too invasive, but he could also tell that you wanted to get to know him. He knew he wasn’t the most open to people, he has his father to thank for that.

As young 19-year-old – about a year older than Frankie – his father was drafted and fought in World War 1 in 1918 as a US Army soldier and was then sent off to France a few weeks in to fight with the AEF, the American Expeditionary Forces. Because of this, Frankie’s father wasn’t the most expressive when in public but was easily the most caring when it came to his family. When Frankie was growing up, his father had spoiled his baby boy and made sure he worked hard as a welder so that Frankie wouldn’t want for anything. Frankie remembers his father coming home from work late at night, oil and bits of metal stuck to him, and always turning his frown into a smile when he laid eyes upon his son.

His father’s closure to the world only grew when he saw his family in danger. Frankie figured that by growing up within a military family, it would lead to him serving in the military as his father did before him. When Frankie was coming to the age of enlistment, he told his family about him wanting to go off to the military, but his father was very much against it. All his father wanted for his son was for Frankie to live his life the way he wanted to, so Frankie didn’t enlist. One day when Frankie was at school, recruiters came to the Morales home and were knocking the door down. Frankie’s father had informed them that his son would not be serving. He was told that because Frankie was able, male, and was soon to be of age, he had to enlist whether he was needed or not. His father complied; except he wrote his own name down instead of his son’s.

His father never regretted going to war. He still had nightmares, which Frankie knew all too well. He had met Frankie’s mother when he came back home in 1921 and after years of trying, he was blessed with a son in 1935. All was good in the world until the year 1950 – Frankie was 15 years old. In August of 1950, a letter came in the post reading the following:

SIR: FRANCISCO MORALES SR.

You are hereby notified that you, on the 21 day of August of 1950, have been legally drafted in the service to the Armed Forces of the United States of America. You are to report to the Armed Forces station below and will be transported to Daejeon, Korea.

Frankie’s father never came back.

His body was never recovered – just his ID tags. Frankie’s mother was told that the last transmission received with the whereabouts of Francisco Morales Sr. were near the Nakdong River in South Korea. Frankie always carried his father’s ID tags around his neck no matter where he went. Those tags always reassured him of himself knowing that he was doing what his father wanted him to do.

Frankie walked you down the steps of school building and stopped at the sidewalk. “Ya know, if ya need a ride, I can take ya home – aint no trouble.”

You smile and shake your head. “I appreciate that. I told my mother I’d take the bus back home.” You knew your mother would have a fit if she saw you get dropped off by a boy, but she may still be at work. You looked back at Frankie and saw that he had a slight frown on his face as he played with a necklace hidden in his white t-shirt. You weren’t sure the reason behind it, but he didn’t want to pry. “Actually, I’ll take a ride.”

His eyes lit up and nodded. “Great but I do gotta warn ya, doll. I gotta take Ironhead and Benny back to their place. Pope usually goes back to mines.” A ride home in a car full of teenage boys – what can go wrong?

The pair of you walk down to the school’s parking lot and there you see students laughing in their cars – 4 to 5 in a car – all while having a smoke and others are drinking from beer cans. You have no doubt that it’s beer cans when one gets tossed towards you with left over beer splattering over your white skirt. Frankie takes notice of the yellow stains and the grimace growing on your face. He looks over at the teenagers in a beat-up Chevy.

“Aye watch where ya tossin’ shit, birdbrain.” The teens look over at Frankie and walk over to him. You place a hand on his arm and look up at him.

“Frankie, c’mon. Let’s just go to your car, huh?” you plead. His arm tightens and as the teens arrive in front of him, Frankie protectively put you behind him and adjusts his jacket – a tick of his you’ve taken note of. The three boys who walked over to Frankie look over at you and smirk.

“Well shit Frankie, pal.” One of them takes a smoke and blows the out towards his side. “You already smashin’ up this little new betty? Don’t you work fast… first Michelle, then Tiffany, now this one?”

Frankie’s jaw tightens and his hold on your arm shifts. “How ‘bout you stuff it, Jack? You know you ain’t even supposed to be here. This ain’t your turf.”

Jack removes his hat, a cowboy hat he’s become fond of, and fixes his hair. He puts it back on and laughs. “You’re right, but I clearly don’t care. Oberyn ain’t out the can ‘till Friday, so I call the shots. My boys wanna be here and screw all these chick-a-dees, then they will. I know you ain’t gon’ do nothin’.”

“He will,” you hear a click and quickly turn your head to see Pope and the boys, Benny holding up a pocketknife. “But he ain’t doin’ it alone either.” The Bandits circle the three men and puff up their chests.

“Alright,” Jack holds his hands up. “We’re gone but trust me when I say that Oberyn ain’t gon’ be too happy to hear this.” With that he snaps his head over to his boys directing them back to their car. They turn to leave and Jack walks away backwards. When he’s satisfied with the distance between himself and The Bandits, he turns on his heel and runs to his car. He jumps in the driver’s seat, gives his girl a smooch, and revs the engine – with that he’s gone.

Pope looks at you and gives your shoulder a quick squeeze. “You good? Hope those bumrats ain’t spook ya too bad.” You shake your head and smile shyly. You look down at your ruined skirt and shrug.

“Just a ruined skirt but that’s okay. I wasn’t fond of it.” Will laughs at your comment fluffs yours skirt from the bottom, earning a nudge from Frankie.

“Let’s get her home, huh? I gotta drop off everyone else,” Frankie says. Tom tells Frankie that he’s got detention and to go on without him. Tom goes back towards the building while everyone piles up in Frankie’s Cherry Red 1945 Mustang GT – his father’s gift to him for his 15th birthday, also his last gift.

Per usual, Benny and Will leans the driver’s seat forwards and get in to sit in the back while Pope goes to sit in his usual spot as shotgun. Frankie tuts at Pope and points to the back. Pope scoffs but shoots Frankie a wink. He gets in and sits in between the brothers, being the smallest of the three, and Frankie runs over to open the door for you to sit up front. He grabs your books and hands them to Pope. As you situate yourself and buckle your seatbelt, Frankie gets in and turns on his baby. He revvs the engine and backs up out the school’s parking garage, but not before revving his engine one more time for the freshmen per Benny’s request.

On the drive to the brother’s house, Benny grabs your notebook and looks through your notes of the day. He looks through the math notes you took during 4th period and immediately closes it. “You sure are smart if you’re taking this angle stuff. I’m guessing it’s college prep?”

You look over your shoulder and nod. “I’m currently taking college preparatory trigonometry. They unfortunately didn’t have any other advanced placement for me here.”

The boys let out a harmony of “ohs” and Will shakes Frankie’s shoulder. “Frankie! She’s smart like you, buddy!”

Pope smirks and joins in on the teasing. “Lo vez, hermano! Being smart doesn’t make you un-cool. Being you does! No te hagas ver como el tonto porque no lo eres.”

You see, brother… don’t make yourself seem dumb because you aren’t.

You look at Pope and smile. “I agree with you, Santiago. Frankie is very intelligent so he shouldn’tdumb himself down because he thinks that’s what people think of him.” Pope stops and looks at you. “You know some Spanish, angel face?” You eagerly nod. “I’m very familiar with the language. They had us choose electives at my old school. I took Spanish, Italian, and French. I had a lot of a free time.”

Pope looks at you in shock but happily hollers. “Well sugar you sound pretty good speakin’ ‘em”

You couldn’t explain it, but you felt giddy. You felt happy to be around the boys and you knew you wanted to continue to be around them.

With Frankie getting out of the car and moving his seat forward, Will and Benny get dropped off first, but not without teasing him about “asking the chick.” Frankie flips them off and Pope lets out a belly laugh. Frankie apologetically looks at you and mouths sorry. You blush and mouth that’s okay.

Once leaving the brothers, Pope tells Frankie to turn up the radio. Frankie looks at Pope through the rearview mirror and narrows his eyes. “Switch to 12,” Pope says with a wink. Frankie rolls his eyes and turns the knob so the needle hits channel 12. Once Frankie hears the recognizable melody from “Takes Two to Tango” by Pearl Bailey. Frankie goes to switch the channel, but you stop his hand. He glances over to you and he sees you mouthing the words. He looks back at Pope who wiggles his eyebrows and sings out loud and to Frankie’s surprise, you join Pope singing at the top of your lungs. He laughs at your attempts at dancing in your seat and looks back at Pope who was waving his hands in the air.

Frankie thought that you’d be this proper, shy little thing but here you were having singing and laughing with his best friend. You gave him the slightest nudge and smiled in his direction. “C’mon Frankie. Don’t be a sour puss. I know you know this song!” You were right. He did know this song. He and Pope sang it so much because Pope thought he could woo some girl – he didn’t really know what the lyrics meant so you can guess what happened. If you guessed he slept with her… you’d be correct.

You poked Frankie in the ribs light enough to not affect his driving and giggled as he sang out with Pope. You liked seeing this Frankie – not that big tough guy you saw at the parking lot. He seemed like he had a big heart but was scared to show it and you were determined, but you were ripped away from your internal planning when Frankie politely asked for your address.

“It’s a shame you ain’t hangin’ longer sweetheart,” Pope began. “I think you’d like being around us two mucks. You would definitely like Frankie’s mom’s cooking. She makes the best food in town.” You smiled as the two best friends bickered about whose mom had the best food.

“I would have loved to, but I have to be home and do chores before my mother gets home.”

Frankie looks over to you and gives you a reassuring smile. “It’s alright. Maybe next time, cool?” You smile at the invitation and nod. Frankie continues to drive as you and Pope make a conversation about the possibility of you tutoring him in math. With them being high school seniors, they are not failing one class.

You feel on top of the world, laughing and talking with your new friends, until you spot the yellow Pontiac in the driveway and your mother coming out of it. Your face drops and the boys immediately take notice.

“What’s wrong?” Frankie asks. You straighten out your top and ask Pope for your books as you ready yourself to run out of the car. You look at Frankie and offer a weak smile.

“My mother won’t be happy with me is all.” You’d ask Frankie to drop you off a couple of houses before your own, but you know your mother has already seen you. As Frankie pulls up to your house, the boys’ jaws drop. You wouldn’t say your house was big, but to the boys, it was huge. Your two-story home consisted of 3 bedrooms and 2 bathrooms. The exterior of the home was beige with dark brown trimming and the river rock pathway leading up to your home was lined with grass so green you’d think it was plastic.

Your mother, dressed to the nines in a pale pink dress and white belt, looks at the hot rod parked in front of her home and places her hands on her hips as she sees Frankie run out and open your door. Your mother would normally love seeing her daughter be treated by a gentleman, but she isn’t very happy to see that it’s Frankie. She has always dreamed of her daughter being courted by a young man in polished Oxford shoes and ironed pleated pants not a worn out leather jacket and dirty chucks.

You thank Frankie for the ride and look over at your upset mother. The boys say hello to her as she gives them the ungenuine smile of hers you have seen many times. You wave goodbye to both boys and begin to walk up to your mother. You hear whispers behind you and then you hear your mother say, “Is there something else you’d like to say, boy?”

You turn and you see Pope shove Frankie towards you. His face turns red as he sees your mother staring him down and he knows that this may not be the best time to ask you.

“On with it, young man. My daughter and I have work to do.”

Frankie once again runs his hand through his hair and clears his throat. “I- I, uh, I was wonderin’ if ya wanted to hang with us at Rosie’s on Friday. The shakes are pretty good so we could ma-“

“What’s your name, young man?” You look at your mother. You narrow your eyes at her for interrupting Frankie.

“It-It’s Frankie,” he stutters, “my name’s Frankie, ma’am.”

Your mother gives her less than friendly smile again. “Well, Frankie, you’ll understand where I’m coming from when I tell you this – you are not the kind of person I want my daughter befriending. You just don’t quite… how can I put this nicely? You don’t fit a mother’s standards.”

“Mother!”

“Quiet.” she tells you. “You will not be around these boys again, do you understand? Your father works too hard for you to just ruin your life like this. You asked to be taken out of the pristine private school we paid for you to go to and we allowed you to enroll in public school. Why are you bringing home some… some hoodlum! How can you do this to us?”

You wished this had surprised you, but it wasn’t the first time your mother disrespected your choice of friends. You huffed and you felt tears coming to your eyes as you saw Frankie’s defeated look in his eyes and Pope fighting the urge to get out of the car.

You mother calls your name, and you turn to look at her. She walks to you, heels clicking the pavement, and cups your jaw. “You will not associate yourself with these boys, do we understand each other?” You see Frankie nod to you and walk back to his car. You look back at your mother and nod. “Yes, Mother. I understand.” Your mother smiles at you and gives your cheek a pat. “Good girl. Now… get inside and put that skirt in the hamper. Your allowance is going towards a new skirt.”

She leads you into the house and you look back and see Frankie’s car is still there. You stop in your tracks and look at your mother. “Mother, may I please run back and grab a paper I left?”

“Is it school related?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Very well. Go grab it and say goodbye and come back in. We have to get dinner going.” You nod and run back to the car and your mother walks into the house.

Pope rolls down the passenger side window and both boys look at you. You smile at Pope and look at Frankie.

“Does Rosie’s Diner have sundaes?” Pope smirks and turns to Frankie while Frankie nods with a confused face. “Well,” you start, “If Friday’s invitation is still open, pick me up by the green house down the street at 6pm. She’ll be going to my grandmother’s house up north.”

“Sounds like a plan, doll.”

The light breeze surprises you as it picks up the more you walk down the street. You walk past two houses and you see the red backlights of the cherry red mustang you seemed to miss.

Your mother, thankfully, left to your grandmother’s home about two hours ago, much earlier than expected. She called not very long ago to make sure you were home and doing homework. You told her that you were planning to retire early as your homework began to give you a headache. She insisted you eat dinner and sleep as she didn’t want to see eyebags under your eyes when she got back tomorrow. She bid you goodnight and said she’d be home by tomorrow’s lunchtime. Once you hung the phone on the hook, you ran to your room and began to ready yourself for the night.

You grew giddy as 6 o’clock crept closer and closer. You had applied your blush and mascara so carefully you’d have thought you were dusting the finest of china. You did not want to wear too much makeup; you didn’t want to seem as though you were trying too hard. You picked out the pins out of the curls on your head you’d put up right when your mother left and watched as the soft and tight curls fell and framed your face. You grabbed your wide tooth comb and brushed the curls out, parting your side at a side so there was more hair and volume on one side. You sprayed a tight hold hairspray all over so you could make sure your hair stood – Frankie wouldn’t want to see frazzled hair, no man would, you thought.

As you went through your closet, you decided that a dress was the best choice as it was simple enough to either be dressed up or dressed down. You went with a white collared black dress with thin white windowpane patterned lines all over. You wore your black flats and added a black shiny belt running across the waist. You get closer to Frankie’s car and you see him get out of his car – you figured he had seen you coming.

“How ya doin’ there, doll?”

“Hello, Frankie.” You wave and get closer to him. Once you’re in front of him you fix his jacket lapel and look up at him. “Aren’t you sight for sworn eyes.”

His eyes widen then starts laughing loudly and your face goes red. He nearly falls in laughter as his hands catch himself on his knees. “W-What’d ya just say?”

“I said aren’t you a sight for sworn eyes,” you frown. “Is that not appropriate?”

He catches his breath and puts a hand on his belly. He reaches over and tucks your hair behind your ear with the other hand. “The saying is a sight for sore eyes, doll; not sworn eyes.”

You feel as if your face is about to burst as you start laughing at yourself. You just cannot believe you’ve messed up your first attempt at flirting with Frankie. “I was really sure it was sworn.”

He smiles brightly and shakes his head. “Hey… can’t say ya ain’t tried right?” You giggle and nod. He look you up and down and lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding.

“Te vez hermosa.” You look beautiful.

Have you ever had that feeling when there’s a puppy trying to get comfortable, but it can’t so it walks over to you and lays with you – falling into a deep and peaceful sleep? You know how it makes your heart feel as if it’s grown twice in size because the puppy chose you and trusted you to protect it while it slept? That’s how you felt when those words came out of Frankie’s mouth.

“Muchas gracias, Francisco.” Thank you very much, Francisco.

He playfully rolls his eyes at you and lets out a laugh. He points to the car and says, “get in the damn car.” He runs over to your door and lets you in, as per usual, and off you two went to Rosie’s Diner.

Frankie leads you into a bright neon-lit diner not very far from your home, about 25 minutes from your place. The diner stands out from the black concrete parking lot and pine trees decorating its background. He opens the light brown doors and places a hand on your lower back as you walk in – not too low or too high.

“Howdy’ho kiddos.” You’re greeted by a woman in her late 40’s or early 50s – the grey hair and sweet smile give it away. “Hey there, Frankie. Bandits meetin’ ya here?”

Frankie smiles at the woman, gives her a hug, and a quick kiss on the cheek; a kiss she smiles at and hums in content. “Hey Ro. Boys are comin’ in a while. You know they ain’t missin’ your special tonight.”

“There’s a special night every night for my favorite bandits, Frankie. Who’s this, huh? You finally bringin’ a girl for me to meet?” Frankie shakes his head from side to side smiling. He turns to you and introduces you to Rosie, the diner’s owner and one of his favorite people. “She’s new in town and I wanted to show her the best diner in the world.”

Rosie slaps Frankie’s arm and laughs. “Stop talkin’ sweet ‘fore your teeth rot, boy. You’re too pretty to be all gums now. I knew my boys were comin; your usual booth’s open, but take the table next to it, yeah. Ya need the extra seat ‘less you sittin’ the girl on ya lap.” Frankie begins to stutter a protest as you stifle a laugh.

“It’s very nice to meet you Miss Rosie. I’m in awe of your diner and excited to try your food.”

“Well it’s very nice to meet the girl who Frankie finally decided to bring to the diner. It’s a very special moment in his life ya know?” You cock your head to the side and take a quick glance at Frankie.

“Why’s that, Miss Rosie?”

As Rosie was about to explain the beginning of courtships of 99% of the teenagers in town, Frankie dragged you away with the dramatic excuse of being so hungry he can eat a horse and how he’ll drop dead if he doesn’t get a shake.

As you make it to the table Rosie had sent you to, you’d think that Frankie would have pulled out your chair, but a couple of some teens you remember seeing at school look in yours and Frankie’s direction whispering among themselves. You took a seat and looked at Frankie to ask if he knew them but as you were about to ask, you saw his face looking back at them with a deep stare. He gave them a single nod towards the door and to your surprise, they ran. Frankie scanned the room and he knew everyone would be taking in the scene. Frankie had never taken a girl out in public – especially not a girl like you. Sure people knew about other girls he’s been with, but everyone knew they weren’t together.

Frankie sat down after everyone in the diner turned their attention back to where it previously was and he passes you a diner menu, but still tense due to the eyes that locked with his back once more.

When the waitress you learned was named Vi and was obsessed with Will, Frankie had ordered a basket of fries for the two to share, a cherry soda for him and a sundae of your pick for you. Vi was also an older woman, best friends with Rosie, and had an innocent crush on Will’s blonde self. Frankie told you about the time Will brought Vi a bouquet of flowers for her birthday and Vi almost attacked the poor kid to the ground with kisses. Vi was sweet and she made you feel very good about yourself as she fixed your collar and fluffed your hair because “her Frankie needs to see what he’s got in front of him.”

You were nearly done with your sundae as you heard the distinctive pitch that is Benny’s voice as he said “What’s cookin’ good lookin’ don’t you look like a dream,” and wrapped an arm around your shoulder. You greet each and every one of the boys as they take their seats around the table – Benny calling dibs on one of the seats next to you. Benny puts his arm around the back rest of your white chair and calls Vi over to place a new order.

As the night continues, you feel free. You feel so relaxed and at ease with the boys around you that you don’t even notice the dirty looks some girls were giving you. Benny puts his head on your shoulder and give his cheek a little pat resulting in Benny playfully trying to bite your hand. Frankie clears his throat and Benny looks over at him and smirks.

“I ain’t trynna steal ya girl, Frankie. If she hangin’ with us, ya gotta get used to us playin ‘round.”

Frankie turns red as Benny calls you “his girl” and rolls his eyes with a chuckle. He looks out the window and immediately tenses. You follow his gaze and see a 1942 black Ford with some boys in it – one of the being that Jack guy from school – revv its engine as it speeds back and forth through the parking lot. He grabs the boys eyes and directs them towards the window and Benny stands up immediately. The boys follow suit and Frankie turns to you.

“Stay here alright, doll? We’ll be back.”

You turn from Frankie to the window and back to Frankie with a worried look painting your face. “What’s going on Frankie?”

“They shouldn’t be here. This ain-“ You both turn at the sound of a crash and see Pope being held against Frankie’s car by a guy in a black tee with its sleeves rolled. Frankie runs out of the diner and you run after him. You know you shouldn’t be getting in between this, but you aren’t going to let anyone hurt your new friends.

Frankie runs up behind this guy, turns him around, and shoves him away from his car and friends. The guy smirks and nods at Frankie. “Did you miss me Frankie?”

“What the hell are you doing here, Oberyn? We already told ya friend there that this ain’t your turf.”

You had to admit, Oberyn had this strut to him that showed his self-confidence and the combination of his flirtatious smile and smoldering eyes only made him more attractive than he already was. Jack came to stand next to him and as he turned to toss some keys over to another friend of his, you caught sight of the word VIPERS with two snakes on the back of his jacket.

“Yeah… he told me ‘bout it. But ya anna know what else Jackie told me? He told me that ya got ya’self a knockout.” Oberyn locks eyes with you and winks. He tries to walk over to you, but Frankie pushes back and away from you.

“Don’t get near her.” Oberyn lets out a sarcastic chuckle and gets in Frankie’s face.

“How ‘bout ya make me, Morales?”

The next thing you knew, you were yelling and crying with Will held you away as you saw Frankie and Oberyn duke it out on the concrete while Benny and Pope tried to pry Oberyn away – Jack and some other guy pushing them away. You caught a glimpse of Frankie’s bruising cheek and Oberyn’s bloody nose. You only noticed the officer’s arrival once Will dragged you back in the diner and making sure Rosie held you back as he ran back to be by Frankie’s side when the local sheriff gets out the car.

dreamboat taglist:

@ickleronniekinsemotionalrange @funerals-with-cake @seasonschange-butpeopledont

[sunnypogue]

jj visits you at school (headcanon)

ok so i took a very innocent prompt and turned it into my old ass reliving my college days (this is an ode to college football + texas food)

(warnings: nsfw-ish, drinking, cursing)

after high school, you decided you needed to get the hell out of north carolina

didn’t even consider duke/chapel hill/state

applied to schools all over the country before deciding on university of texas

(jj was sad because you were leaving - and he wasn’t - but it was closer than cal, which was your next choice)

as soon as you settled in, you bought him a flight out for a home football game

basically a religious experience in texas

you swooped him late thursday night from austin-bergstrom, borrowing your big’s boyfriend’s chevy silverado

yes you had joined a sorority. yes you lowkey loved it.

you could barely see over the wheel, and were basically falling asleep because you had to book it to the airport right after your 2 hour bio lab

but you got so excited when you saw jj - he was all amped up from flying for the first time

he waved you down, holding his beat up duffle bag on the sidewalk outside of arrivals

laughed at you as you tried navigating the truck (it was HARD okay, your big’s boyfriend owned a ranch - it wasn’t meant for the streets of austin), swung open the door as you rolled to a stop, slid into the passenger seat, gave you a “howdy, ma’am” before leaning over the gear shift & tongue fucking you.

woke ya right up!

you welcomed him to texas the traditional way - honey butter chicken biscuit from whataburger

he inhaled it - “god, what the FUCK is this?”

y’all spooned in your twin xl bed - you elbowed him in the chest, twice.

took him to your gen ed history class the next morning - y’all hid in the back and sent each other dirty texts the whole time (nothing new there)

gave him the full tour of campus after & rewarded him with torchy’s after - peg leg margarita + trailer trash tacos.

he had never had queso before - blew his fuckin’ mind

“why is the food here so GOOD?”

took him to your sorority mixer that night - 70’s themed, so y’all blew it out of the water with some very authentic ABBA costumes that you coordinated with your best friend + her boyfriend

jj let you round brush dry his hair & wore the classic all white outfit to match yours

y’all fucked in the costumes later that night - you couldn’t stop laughing, and he wouldn’t stop humming “super trouper”

woke up at the ass crack of day for game day - 2pm kick off meant 10 am tailgate

jj let you dress him (you were worried about getting him into the tailgate - you weren’t really in the mood for him to have to answer the “who do you know here?” question a thousand times)

of course, you had the frat boy game day uniform all ready for him - black ut polo, wranglers & cowboy boots.

he drew the line at the cowboy hat, opting for a backwards baseball cap

he wasn’t excited about the boots, until you handed him a flask & told him that was the only way he was sneaking alc into the game

jj immediately filled it with jack, before slipping into the side of his boot - “alright alright alright”

shockingly, getting him into the frat tailgate was no problem (you wisely chose to bring him to your big’s boyfriend’s frat - while he wasn’t pledge master, he had a lot of pull, and didn’t bat an eye as you brought your semi-incognito boyfriend into the house)

and of course, he made friends with literally EVERYONE he met

shotgunning beers with your best friends and their boyfriends

betting people to ride the mechanical bull in the middle of the backyard (because what the fuck)

sharing his boot flask (“yeah, my girlfriend got it for me - yeah, she’s pretty great.”)

of course, you taught him how to “hook ‘em”

and suckered him into a picture 

literally y’all only got one good one, you on his back, throwing the horns, him grinning at you as he half-assed the horns

he was flipping off the camera in every other photo

when y’all got to the stadium, he lost his shit

easily the biggest place (with the most people) he had EVER been in

completely took it in stride - learning all the chants, (“we’re gonna beat the hell outta you!” was his favorite) cheering as pledges were forced to chug whatever crazy shit the older frat members smuggled into the stadium between the student section bleachers, going absolutely apeshit when texas would score

jj didn’t know football could be fun - football was synonymous with his dad betting big and losing hard, which meant he got the brunt of...that

after the game (horns win!), y’all headed back to your dorm for a shower & power nap before hitting sixth street later that night

you changed your outfit three times and your panties once, because SOMEONE thought it would be funny to finger you while you tried to do your hair 

you weren’t really complaining, tbh

y’all walked to a pregame, jj wearing his boots & sipping from his flask, arm slung around you

same group y’all tailgated with earlier, so jj was like an old friend at this point 

(he even got the invite to the fraternity mardi gras trip in the spring - he asked if you were going to be flashing for beads - you smacked him on the arm)

wrangled him into an intense game of rage cage (you won - he bragged about you for the rest of the night)

laughed as you and your friends sat in the uber to the bars, memorizing your fake id’s 

jj had the same one from high school - he had a whole life story for his id at this point

let you drag him to a country bar - he kept your drink full as you & your sorority sisters drunkenly line danced to “any man of mine” and “cottonhead road”

you even got him to two step 

he ended up half-carrying your wasted ass home - you passed the fuck out the second you were back in your dorm

being the good boyfriend he is, he helped you take your makeup off and change into your pj’s

you woke up in his cutoff coors shirt, and nothing else - for revenge, you woke him up with a blow job - obviously.

you both had mind numbing hangovers (he refused to admit it, but he was feelin’ a lil rough after a game day + night out on sixth), so you dragged him to brunch - hair of the dog, baby.

knocked a couple mimosas back & made plans to lay out by the pool - nothing like getting absolutely fried by the sun to revive your hungover ass

as you were falling asleep on the lounger by the school’s outdoor pool, you heard him mumble something 

“you know where austin community college is, baby?”

you nodded, not following the conversation whatsoever, playing around with his baseball cap (you forgot your sunglasses, he offered it up to protect your eyes from the sun)

“lookin’ at it” he shrugged, holding his phone up, home page for ACC on his browser

you sat up a lil bit. “you’d consider leaving the outer banks?” 

he didn’t respond right away - you poked him with your foot a couple times

“I don’t think I’d ever leave the outer banks for good - but for a few years? maybe.” “for me?” 

he poked you back “nah, i’m coming for torchy’s + whataburger. you’re just an added bonus”

you nailed him with the hat, square in the face. “shut up.”

he laughed - sat up, swung your legs onto his lap, “i’m coming for you. you shut up.”

[axemetaphor]

im definitely not ripping off my friend by making a list of au ideas i have no siree //gonna slap this under a readmore cause i. well i say a lot. all of the time. i tried so hard to format this Good but tumblr fucked me up i am so sorry

so first-off i know i already have one WIP AU (Auckland) on ao3 so i wont talk about That one cause like. spoilers. i actualyl have it like 80% created so its likely gonna truly get finished for once and i dont wanna ruin shit

the other one ive posted about is something me and ben (catgirlrepublic) have worked on together its not at all close to done or anything but it's. a fun little crossover. Between jdate and my fuckinuhm. Original characters story “Untitled Villains Project”. the sketches of the comic version ive started is actually my pinned post 👉👈 its like the first chunk of the story, i think half of part 1? yea.

Tldr john fucking Somehow is able t oget into contact with a certain curious scientist from another reality who’d just love to study the Soy Sauce, most certainly not for her own nefarious purposes

John and Dave meet up with the scientist, her name is Boss, and her lab assistant, Toxic, and after a bit of a preliminary Vibe Check where john determines her trustworthy (which Dave doesnt agree with,) the two agree to be taken to the world UVP is set in. from there they stay in Boss’s lab (big old fucking abandoned military lab). John and Toxic are fast friends due to mutual love-of-chaos. John n Dave get to fuckin, camp out on an air mattress.

The day after they arrive, the two get split up, not exactly intentionally; big plot points of UVP are liek. Fueled by Boss sending Toxic to go fetch her “research materials,” which are usually important artifacts

Fuckin side note i guess i have to explain my dumb bullshit: Boss’s, uh, field of expertise so to speak is actually fckin, basically the scientific study of magic and superpowers n shit like that. This shit’s all real in that world. Toxic’s got fuckin superpowers, so do 4 other main characters, whatever. It’s got a bit to do with spirituality, iss Boss’s hypothesis. So she has Toxic fetch important artifacts that might have “energies” to them. The thing is actually way more fuckin complictated than that, this is just Boss’s initial hypothesis.

Motherfucking anyways. So Boss gives Toxic a job to do, and John get excited about how Cool that sounds, and ends up going with Toxic, leaving Boss and Dave alone. Neither is thrilled about this. But Dave and Boss get to have a bit of conversation (while Toxic and John are off bonding and having a good time) and come to a… mutual grudging understanding of some kind. They still dont like each other though lmao

Theres gonna be deeper shit going on but we havent sorted it out yet/tbh havent like Written For It in a while but i still like thinking about it a lot lol

Also pretty sure our endgame is john and dave steal toxic and bring them back with em lmao boss is kind of not nice and toxic would most certainly be better off in Undisclosed. Actually theyd fucking love it. Theyd become a local cryptid im sure. Undisclosed’s mothman is a teleporting spike baby.

I have. Another crossover AU that i might. Post something about for halloween? Maybe? If i have it finished?

Crosses over into, you guessed it, another one of my original-character projects. God, am i vain or something?

I promise this is just because i think blue and dave should get to team up to beat up some monsters

Quick briefing on my fuckinuh. Original character story, this one doesnt have a name (yet? Idk lol my work never actually goes anywhere sso who gives a shit). It centers around two grim reapers, Red (26, bi woman) and Blue (22, aroace agender asshole). In this reality or whatever, grim reapers function kind of like low-level office workers. They get told who’s going to die + when by some middle-management types, and upper management only involve themselves when punishment needs to be doled out. These Higher-Ups can be seen as analogous to Korrok; they’re decidedly not human, never were, and fucking terrifyingly powerful. Additionally, grim reapers are sort of .. designed to be “background noise” people. In reality theyre supernatural beings and, uh, look Real Fuckin Weird (the whole deal has a neon aesthetic im terrible at drawing uwu) but most humans just perceive them like extras in a movie. A body’s there but the camera’s not focused on it.

To the narrative: the shit starts when Red n Blue get relocated to Undisclosed. Relocation is something that just happens every now and then to reapers; they usually work in teams, but they get split up into different cities to avoid any strong bonds forming (a counter-union strategy from the Higher-Ups).

Red, Blue, John and Dave end up running into each other for the first time in a McDonalds where John n Dave are getting some 4am “hey, we just survived another horrific monster fight” celebration burgers. John and Dave are the only two people who can see how… strange Red and Blue are. Nobody else notices.

John unintentionally pisses Blue off, leading to Blue whacking him upside the head with a dildo bat. They all four get kicked out of McDonald’s. Dave and Red both are less than thrilled

Blue and John end up resolving their differences, somehow. Red and Dave briefly bond over their dumbass best friends being, well, dumbasses. They all part ways amicably.

somehow-or-other (idk yet) they end up running into each other a few more times, and eventually john invites them over to his place, and the four (plus Amy now!) get to know each other a little better

while there, Blue gets a text about some guy who's gonna die and John offers to drive them to where that's gonna go down. they take him up on the offer and get to have a bit of one-on-one conversation

after that ordeal though Blue has had Enough of people and bails, leaving John to head home alone

theres a sort of mirror-development going on with the five of em. Red, John, and Amy would all like everyone to get along, though theyre a bit tentative about it (John moreso than the other two, actually, jsut cause. well Red n Blue could still be Sauce Monsters). Dave and Blue on the other hand do Not like people enough for this shit, and Dave's not unconvinced theyre Sauce Monsters. he will not trust them until proven he should

the story's kinda nebulous but i got an idea for some Shit going down that involves both Sauce Monsters and also the Higher-Ups to have some fuckin absolute chaos go down.

Oops! All Trans

Everybody is transgender. Everyone

Ive actually workshopped this one both with ben (catgirlrepublic) and ghost (ghost-wannabe) lmao its a fun lil concept ive had from the get-go cause i mean. What’s an internet tran gonna do other than hit all their favourite media with the Everyone’s Trans beam

Dave transitioned post-high school and faked his death for it. People go missing in Undisclosed all the damned time, after all. He moved to the next city over, transitioned fully, then came back as a completely new man. Yes i know this doesnt exactly fit with the “everyone knows David from high school” thing alright, hush.

Anytime anyone brings up John’s old best friend (pre-transition Dave) John throws an entire fit like an overdramatic grieving widow. Full-on sobbing “why would you bring her up?! I miss her so much—” to the point that people just stop bringing up because Jesus Christ That Sure Is Uncomfortable KJHGFDS.

This is a scheme he and Dave came up with prior to Dave leaving, though Dave hadnt exactly anticipated John putting on this much of a performance about it— but it’s stopped Dave from ever having tto hear his deadname again, so hey.

Amy transitioned sometime in middle school/early high school. Her family was super supportive and loved her a ton and most people just know her as Amy. she was super shy her whole life really so. Yeah. people just dont think to bring it up lmao also i Feel Like big jim would absolutely wallop anyone who gave her trouble of any kind

John’s nonbinary (genderfluid specifically) and not exactly Interested in transitioning ? like hes fine with how he is. mostly.

he came out to Dave in high school but hes not out to anyone else exactly. Maybe his bandmates. Probably any other trans person in Undisclosed knows, too, cause theyre safe to tell lmao. Johns mostly a “he/him out of convenience” kinda nb who’s cool with any pronouns but does prefer they/them most. Dave and Amy use they/them when the trio are alone

Also this is a totally self-indulgent caveat that i think would be great, Dave’s actually agender but because he's transmasc and transitioned when he thought there were really only two options, and being Boy at least felt less weird than being Girl, he just kind of assumed he was a dude. It’s only through a lot of (like fucking years and years hes probably in his 30s/40s when he puts 2 and 2 together on this one) talks about gender with John that he realizes he actually feels like No Gender. Masc aesthetic with none gender.

I Just Think It’d Be Neat Is All Okay

Also Amy came out to Dave about being trans early on in them seeing each other and his response was to get very nervous before blurting out “me too” and then just being too embarrassed to talk about it for the rest of the day. Hes got a lot of hangups on talking about it actually it takes years for him to get comfortable in that

by contrast when Amy comes out to John about it his response is to yell “EYYY ME TOO” and give her a big ol hug lmao

I think itd be neatt if Amy ran a like. Transfem help/advice blog on tumblr. Kind of helped-with by John who can give her transfem nb insight for certain asks. I also just think that would be neat.

Cowboy AU - i put this one last cause its got drawings to it actually. Theyll be at the bottom

Basically just. Hey you ever watched a western. I think they look neat

This is another one me n ben have come up with lol

The soy sauce and all that shit still exist, im not sure where korrok fits in yet but ill figure it out

Theres no real like solid narrative yet ? but heres the barebones of everybody’s arcs.

John

Johns an absolute troublemaker, Of Course. Hes wanted in several towns for absolutely stupid shit. Hes a loner who shows up, causes chaos, gets drunk, does some drugs, runs away if people get too mad at him

He definitely had the same kind of deal with the soy sauce as in canon— he was at some kind of party, somebody offered it, he took it cause why the fuck wouldnt he, now he can see monsters and shit

Hes kind of a mooch also. Like. dont let him stay in your barn man he’ll never fucking leave and drink all your booze.

He runs into Dave when they happen to just, cross paths in the same town. the bullshit John stirs up ends up involving Dave in a way that makes it seem like it's his fault too, and they both get run out of town

after that he just tags along after Dave. hes decided this guy's Cool he wants to stick around. Dave is pissed at first, but not enough to shoot him or anything, and eventually, John grows on him

Dave

Dave also is a loner but unlike John hes simply so fucking awkward and bad with people. He doesnt feel like he belongs anywhere so he just travels

He’s the stereotypical Lone Ranger tbh. He wanders from town to town, solving their problems, though hed deny its out of any moral obligation (it kinda is, a little bit, tbh. He does like feeling useful). He shows up, fixes things, leaves. He's kind of a legend but most people think he's hiding something dark. other people jsut know him as that guy who farted real loud in the middle of the saloon and promptly skipped town out of sheer embarrassment. you know how it goes with Dave

He ends up involved with the Soy Sauce when a snake (not Actually a snake,) bites him. The snake’s more like the wig-monsters, really. Anyway, it injects him with the soy sauce, he fucking trips balls in the middle of the desert, he can see monsters now

He runs into John and shit goes tits-up, as said, but they become traveling buddies after that. he'd never say so, but he's glad for the company, actually. it's nice. hes not used to companionship but he feels a strange kind of easiness hanging out with John....

not sure how the Monster Dave concept will like fit in to this reality but like. trust me i want it in here. I'll Figure It Out.

Amy

Amy’s been living in a town John and Dave end up passing through and she is very curious about these two new Handsome Strangers who claim to fight monsters and just kinda. Persistently tags along til they let her join for real

Her family’s all dead, unfortunately, just like in canon, and she’s been living alone for a few years before meeting John n Dave. she had nothing left in that town to stay for, she'd been fantasizing about escaping on wild adventures for a long time and this felt a little like a dream come true. (Dave still gives her a spiel about how Difficult it is, but really, her fantasies were pretty grounded-in-reality already. i jsut think thats how she is, yknow?)

Shes the first person to react to the whole “we see monsters” shit with a kind of “oh, okay. neat” kind of response lmao

John and Dave fix whatever the fuck is up with her town (maybe that’s where the Korrok shit can fit, who knows) and Amy ends up being integral to that. After, she insists they take her with them because “they need her now” and Dave just cant really say no. John too is very much "the more the merrier!" and hes actually glad to have another person along he loves people lmao

At the start she has long hair but after she joins them she chops it short with a knife for convenience

also she still is an amputee. justt. idk. it was a wagon/stagecoach accident rather than a car accident lmao. just to clarify since i hadnt mentioned it, i wouldnt rob her of her ghost hand or yknow. all of the significance to her character that Missing A Hand has. although also now im going to have to research what was used as painkillers way-back-when, but im betting shes still got, like, her pain pills, they probably had those, maybe i wouldnt have to try too hard there. old timey medicine could be WACK though,

Shitload

Yeah hes in tthis shit mostly cause i liked designing his cowboy self lmao

Hes a kid (like 16, 17, technically i think in those days that was more Young Man than Kid but whatever. Hes Young i mean.) who got possessed by the Worms out in the desert and, by his family’s perception, just went missing!

Hes also a wanderer, but he ended up at the same town john and dave met in, at that same time, and starts following them after, already aware of who/what they are.

He keeps his face covered 24/7. actually he covers a Majority of his self for reasons. kinda want him to be a slightly more horrifying Worm Entity rather than human idk,

I kinda dont have much for this boy yet sorry Shitload

images !

with some editing notes for me cause im doing a very specific aesthetic with this lmao. i might change some lil details/colours though ...... idk

im also kinda 🤔 about shitload's colour palette. i want things assoicated w the sauce to be black'n'red predominantly but i think his palette might mirror dave's too closely. also im working on a korrok design i jsut am too busy to draw it now

[what-is-your-plan-today]

Don’t Worry, Be Snappy!

Summary: Amber finds herself stranded on a boat with Mike Weiss…and as anything where Mike is involved, it all gets a little crazy!

Warnings: Bad Language words.

A/N:  As it is past midnight here in the UK here it is!

BEWARE- This is utter, utter nonsense. You’re about to get an insight into exactly how stupid mine and @icanfeelastormbrewing​ ‘s minds and brain storming sessions really are. But it made us laugh, and we hope it makes you laugh too.

Written especially for @sweater-daddiesdumbdork​ for her birthday! Happiest of days to you Ambi, we love you lots!!!

Fic Song: Don’t Worry, Be Happy by Bob Marley 

Now listen to what I said, in your life expect some trouble, when you worry you make it double. But don't worry, be happy, be happy now

 The problem with Mike Weiss is, well, just that he is Mike Weiss. Total crackpot, in more ways than one. Which was why Amber found herself one sunny July afternoon sailing down a literal creek without a paddle as they searched for his pet alligator. Mike had been struck by a sudden idea the previous night that it would be nice to take Snappy to the Everglades- “So he can associate with his own kind, learn so alligator social skills”

Of course, despite Mike’s protests to the contrary, Snappy was instinctively a fucking wild animal. So as soon as Mike had dropped him into the water he had slunk off into the weeds and completely ignored (again, not surprisingly) Mike’s calling of his name.

“Why did you let him go Mike?” Amber groaned, laying back on the bench in the boat.

“I was high, ok?” Mike sighed “Seemed like a good idea.” He chewed the inside of his cheek a little as he glanced around, hands on his hips “Here Snappy, Snappy.” “Yeah, he’s mingling Mike…there’s no fucking way we’re A- gonna find him, or B- he’s gonna come back!” “I love what a positive, always look on the Brightside kinda gal you are.” Mike shot her a look as he steered the boat carefully down the small reed lined stream.

“I’m a realist.” Amber sighed, still looking up at the clouds “You should try it sometime.”

At that point the boat they were on gave a little stutter and Amber sat up to see Mike glancing curiously at the controls.

“Erm…” he looked around “It broke.” “What do you mean it broke?” “Well it was working…” Mike rolled his eyes “And now it’s not.” “Fucks sake…let me try.” Amber sighed. She stood up, shoved Mike out of the way and she turned the key in the ignition. Nothing. With a groan she looked at him, her hands on her hips “I TOLD you we should have taken my fucking canoe.”

She flopped down back into her seat with a growl.

“Someone’s cranky” Mike whispered and Amber glared at him.

“You know what, I am, you’re right.” She pointed at him “You’re a dumb dork, who does dumb dork things, like letting an alligator go free in the middle of the swamp in FUCKING FLORIDA!”

Mike opened his mouth to say something but the sound of another boat engine drew their attention and they both turned. Amber’s eyes were instantly taken by the man steering the boat who was dressed in a white shirt and a dirty pair of jeans. His wind ruffled hair was stuck up slightly and his eyes were hidden by a set of aviators. A small girl with blonde hair sat besides him, a ginger cat on her lap and behind her perched a woman with long, reddy-brown hair, a pair of glasses also over her eyes.

“You guys alright?” the man asked as they pulled up alongside them.

“Yeah, this dumbass managed to strand us here.” Amber jerked her hand over her shoulder.

“Frank did that to us once.” The young girl grinned and the man who had just stopped the boat besides them looked down at her.

“That was the one time my repairs let me down.” He shook his head.

“One time too many.” She quipped.

Amber snorted, “I like you kid.”

The little girl smiled “I’m Mary, this is my uncle Frank and his girlfriend Fliss.”

“Nice to meet you all.” Amber smiled. “I’m Amber and this is Mike.”

“Want me to take a look at it?” Frank asked, nodding to the boat “I do it for a living so…”

“Be my guest.” Mike said, and Frank nodded, heading to the back of his boat.

“So what are you doing here?” Mary asked.

“Mary stop being so nosey.” Fliss sighed.  Mike gave a chuckle.

“We’re looking for my pet alligator…”

“Yeah Idiot Boy here set him loose. Thought he needed some alligator time with other alligators…” Amber rolled her eyes.

“You have a pet alligator?” Mary’s eyes widened. “Frank, can-“ “No.” Frank cut her off as he turned round, a length of rope in his hand.

“It can live in the pool!” Mary pressed

“Absolutely not.” Fliss looked at her and then their attention turned to Mike as he gave a chuckle.

“Can’t keep em in a pool kid, chlorine…not good.” Mary paused and then grinned “We can build him a lake in Monty’s field…” “The hell we can.” Frank snorted.

“Ah go on man, make the little girl happy!” Mike smiled. “They make great pets…”

“Clearly they don’t.” Frank grumbled, looking Mike up and down before he frowned at the man’s ridiculous shirt and trouser combination. Fliss grinned.

“Nice boots” she said, gesturing to Mike’s cowboy specials.

“Thanks!” Mike flashed her a cheeky grin and a wink.

“Shame about the rest of it.” Frank quipped, as he tied a length of rope to the side of the stranded boat, securing it to his own so he could hop over onto the deck.

“You’re calling my outfit out?” Mike scoffed, gesturing with his hand to Frank’s loud yellow and black Hawaiian print shirt “Exhibit A your honour.” “Clearly this is some sort of shit outfit competition.” Amber mumbled.

“I feel you sister.” Fliss grinned “Are you two…erm…together…or…” “Never seen him before in my life.” Amber denied and Fliss laughed.

“What the fuck Amber?” Mike protested.

“He just turns up from time to time when he has the munchies and eats all my Sour Patch Kids.”

“That’s not the only thing I eat.” Mike grinned and Frank let out a snort.

“Yeah, sure.” Amber rolled her eyes before she looked at Fliss and Mary, dropping her voice “He also eats my dog, Tikka’s, food.” “Frank ate one of Fred’s catnip treats once.” Mary said and Frank shrugged, not taking his attention of the engine of the boat.

“I wanted to see what the fuss was about.”

“You were drunk” Mary retorted.

“That was the night you came home saying the leprechauns had stolen your jacket.” Fliss said.

Mike grinned “I see leprechauns a lot.”

Amber shook her head “Jesus Christ…” she mumbled.

“Ok, I see the problem.” Frank smiled, stranding up and turning to Mike “You’re out of fuel.”

Amber blinked as Mike turned to her, giving her a small shrug and an innocent, boyish smile as she exploded “What the…you didn’t think to CHECK?” “I thought they were electric.” Mike shrugged.

“God you’re an idiot…should have brought my canoe.”

“You know, that’s the second time you said that.” Mike looked at her.

“Really, well here’s the third…” She snarked “I. SHOULD. HAVE. BROUGHT. MY. CANOE!”

“Ok, we can give you a tow back.” Frank said, moving back to climb into his own boat. “Get you back to the centre.” “No can do.” Mike shook his head, “Need to find Snappy…” “Yeah, erm…” Fliss pointed to something that was approaching them, a confused expression on her face “I think he may have already found you.” They all turned and as they watched Snappy sail past their boat led on an Alligator shaped pool inflatable, being pushed by an extremely good looking man in a wet suit. He glanced up at them, smiling, his teeth white from behind his beard and he flicked his long hair back out of his eyes.

“Leave no gator behind.” He said simply, as he continued swimming past, Snappy basking on his inflatable.

Amber blinked, looked at the can of coke she was holding and turned to Mike “What the fuck did you put in this?” “Nothing…” “And why am I suddenly cold?” she frowned.

“Cold?” Frank looked at her “It’s like 90 degrees…in the middle of Florida.”

“That may be, but I’m still cold…” she frowned “And why is it going dark…”

****

Amber sat bolt upright, her head colliding painfully with the bunk above her, breathing deeply as she looked around. The light and warmth she had been feeling had been replaced with dark and cold, the blues and greens of Florida swapped for the dark greys and browns of the train…

“Hey…” a familiar voice said and she turned to look at Curtis as he sat up besides her “You ok baby?”

“Yeah, I just had the strangest dream.” She said as her man gently rubbed between her shoulders as she began to explain to him what she’d been dreaming about. He arched an eyebrow, sniggered occasionally and then snorted with laughter, a rare thing for Curtis Everett, when she told him about the inflatable alligator.

“And Mike, Frank, the Diving guy…they looked a bit like you. Which is odd.” She finished shrugging.

“Well I’m clearly on your mind.” Curtis quipped as he lay back, arms folded behind his bed as he gave her a sinful look “And you should be on my face so I can wish you a happy birthday properly.”

Amber grinned and shuffled round to straddle him before she stopped, her hands falling to his chest.

“On one condition.” She smirked.

“What?”

“Take your beanie off first. It gives me a rash.”

[tinycaprisun]

a song about it raining somewhere else

title: a song about it raining somewhere else characters: chuck taylor x trent beretta word count: 3822 part: 1/1 warnings: mild cursing, and like that’s kinda it? maybe mild angst? but also i’m a baby and it becomes fluff by the end? a/n: howdy, this is not another i’m back i’m back piece as much as it honestly is. no, see this time- this is actually a gift! 2 days ago was @trentjinshi’s birthday and i wanted to write him something! so i sat down for like 6 hours with my goopy goblin gay brain and spit out this obvious magnum opus. so, like, don’t hate it please. also hugest happy birthday to emil again!! yeehaw... i’ve technically already sent this to u

You know, of all days to have the soul crushing realization that you’ve secretly been in love with your best friend, Trent should have expected it to happen on Valentine’s Day.

The man had garbage luck anyways, and good things seemingly never happened to him. So when Chuck animatedly told him he had a date that night with some girl, Trent’s heart shouldn’t have blown apart like he had been shot. Sure, he pretended to be supportive of his buddy, returning his radiant smile despite the effect never reaching his eyes, And yeah, he wished him all the best, telling the taller man he hoped it went well.

But did Trent mean any of that? Fuck no! He was dying on the inside, mourning the loss of a relationship and love he didn’t even know he wanted! Perhaps he should have considered himself lucky that he didn’t start bawling his eyes out on the spot. The New Yorker had a tendency to wear his heart on his sleeve, so the crying really was not out of the question at that moment. But he contained his feelings somehow, moving on through the rest of that afternoon like he was trudging through a snowstorm. Slow, cold, and slowly dying from the inside out.

So that led him here, sitting in his car as the rain started to come down, refusing to turn the damn thing on. He didn’t want to go back to his hotel room. Because if he did, it would remind him of the obvious. He went home alone tonight.

Chuck wasn’t alone. His friend had a probably beautiful person with a perfect personality sitting across from him at a fancy restaurant. A person who wasn’t him. Why couldn’t Trent be his perfect date? He would laugh at his jokes, softly hold his hand as they walked in from the parking lot, pull his chair out for him, admire him like he was the sun-

A harsh banging came from his left, rhythmically tapping against the glass of his car window in time with the rain drops. Trent’s head jerked up from where it had defeatedly slumped against the steering wheel to see who was trying to get his attention.

It was a security guard, holding an umbrella in one hand and wavering him off with another, politely telling him to leave the premises as the arena building they were at was closing. To be honest, getting a ticket from not leaving and instead rotting in that parking lot forever sounded like a far better time than he was having. But, he didn’t have a choice. Story of his life.

Trent started up his car, quickly leaving off into the vast night with only his thoughts to keep him company. And that was rapidly becoming annoying. The singular thing on his mind was one person, and how all this time, his feelings were so obvious. Every time he even glanced in his friend’s direction his heart rate would spike. Before now, he had chalked that up to coincidence or - considering it was Trent and how his body loved to torture him - underlying health conditions. Evidently, it was neither of those things.

One would think he would catch on to his festering crush sooner; considering he thought the entire world of Chuck and whenever he had to go more than a few days without seeing him, he would get a weird sense of longing to be back in his presence, but nothing ever wanted to work out that way. Life thought it would be much funnier if Trent felt like he was being ripped apart at the seams by a simple sentence.

Between the still processing of what it even meant to have a crush on your best friend, and knowing that right now he was out with some other person having the time of his life, Trent was not feeling great as he drove down the freeway. Grumbling under his breath, he flicked the radio on to fill the car with something other than his problems. A song the brunette had never heard before crackled to life, being about part of the way through.

By the time we get there, everybody will be drunk The chairs will be on tables and the band will be unplugged We're gonna look real good, but we're gonna look real rude I'm sorry I'm not sorry that I'm-

Fucking perfect! The last person to mess with the radio in Trent’s car was Chuck, and bastard left it on one of his stupid country stations. Trent didn’t even like country music! That didn’t stop him, however, from a few days ago when they were driving from city to city and let Chuck put on whatever he liked, even if it was something he was going to hate. He would make tiny sacrifices like that all the time for his partner, because he knew it would earn him one of those sunlit smiles. Trent really would do anything to make Chuck happy, and had been since they met.

Late to the party with you Oh, who needs confetti? We're already falling into the groove And who needs a crowd when you're happy at a party for two? The world can wait 'Cause I'm never late to the party if I'm late to the party with you

It... It was a love song?

“Throw me off a fucking bridge.” Trent mumbled to himself as he exited an off ramp. Seriously, who out there was tormenting him and making him have possibly the worst day ever? What omnipotent being did he piss off? He thought he was an alright dude, not getting into other people’s business and sort of keeping to himself. Most days he made an attempt to be somewhat nice to others and never did any of that vile or cruel shit. And yet, he was cursed to drive home while listening to a love song in a genre that he hated, and only helped to remind him more of his best friend.

Let's promise when we get in that we'll try to get right out Fake a couple conversations, make the necessary rounds These kinda things just turn into "Who's leaving here with who?" But I just want 'em all to see me come in late to the party with you

Wasn’t that a funny line. Wanting others to see the person you’re with because of how much you loved them? Trent understood that. Whenever he would go anywhere with Chuck, he would always want people to know he was there with him- whether he realized it or not.

He could talk for hours about him. It could be the simple telling of a funny story, or gushing about how good he was in the ring. Or how great of a friend he was. That made Trent wonder about what Chuck would be like if they were together. His mind wandered, dreaming up scenarios and infinite possibilities as he pulled into his hotel’s parking garage.

The musing didn’t stop when he killed the engine, happily ending that fucking song that was starting to piss him off with how cute it was. Trent pushed himself out of the car, gathering his singular bag from the trunk and wandering inside through the rain. Which, if anyone was curious, was even worse than it was when he left. It was coming down in buckets now, being slung into the New Yorker’s face by the wind.

Checking in was easy enough, having the briefest of conversations with the man at the desk who happened to have a thick southern accent.

Chuck had an accent, but only when he drank a lot. It took about 3 and a half beers for it to come out, but by that point he didn’t care all that much to hide it. He wouldn’t be trashed, as he was a pretty solid drinker and had made putting strong shit back a hobby over the last few years. Trent knew exactly how it sounded, though. A smooth Kentucky accent that always caused him to punctuate the last word of his sentences and pronounce certain things differently. Never anything like “y’all” or something southern like that, after all Chuck wasn’t that dime store cowboy they worked with.

The thing Trent remembered the most about Chuck’s accent was how he said his name. He would draw it out, almost like he was whining, except it was low in his voice and always accompanied by a wide grin. One that’s toothy like Cheshire Cat, and annoyingly sweet like bubblegum. Trent idly wondered if he tasted like bubblegum too, but the thought turned vivid fantasy was interrupted for a moment by the elevator reaching his floor.

The brunette slowly approached his room, still partially entranced by the ideas he had created in his mind as he unlocked his door and slipped in. From there, it felt like he wasn’t even alive anymore. Not in a morbid sense, but as in he wasn’t participating in the concept of reality at that moment. Trent was so disconnected from his actions, it was almost as though he was outside of his body and looking in from somewhere else. So much so, that when he snapped out of his revere from his phone buzzing, he was lying in bed wearing only his boxers.

Not that what was on his phone was of any importance to him. All Trent saw were notifications for things he didn’t care about, the only thing sticking out was a short text from Orange sending him more condolences over his current “issue”. Damn, he was acting like someone had died, not his friend’s heart being broken. Trent didn’t bother responding, tossing the device back on the bedside table and rolling over to face away from it.

The alarm clock on the other stand read “10:17 p.m.”, blinking at him like the piece of shit was broken. It also only now occurred to Trent that he had never turned the lights on while he was basically astral projecting. So he was bathed in darkness, with the only illumination being that digital clock and the street lights below outside the window.

Was he going to fall asleep at a respectable time? Because deep in his bones he could feel the shroud of tiredness creeping through him from all of the emotional energy he drained today. And with that, Trent grabbed one of the unused pillows and wrapped himself around it, cuddling it tightly and not bothering to get under the bed covers.

Maybe if he tried hard enough, Trent could pretend the pillow was something else. --

Who in the hell was knocking at his door at - the New Yorker stopped his angry brain tirade to peek at the clock again - 11:53 at night? He had only gotten to sleep an hour and it was cut short by who knew what. If this was Orange coming to tell him he had broken another hotel microwave by “forgetting to take the metal spoon out of his mac and cheese”, Trent was going to fucking kill him.

Getting up from where he lay, Trent stumbled blearily across the room to the door. In those few seconds, it processed with him that his hair must have come untied while he was sleeping because it was messily draped around his shoulders. Among that, he was still only dressed in boxers, riding rather low on his hips. Maybe he had a restless sleep even though it was quick?

He didn’t care what he looked like though as he slowly pulled the door open with a yawn and blinked from the harsh light flooding in from the hallway. Trent prepared to open his mouth and berate his shorter friend when he heard a sniffle come from in front of him.

Chuck was standing on the other side of the doorway, soaking wet from the rain. By the look on his face, it seemed as though he had been crying as well, with red eyes and a running nose. His eyes didn’t meet Trent’s as he all but whispered, “H-hey, man.”

Did the longer haired brunette care that his friend was ice cold and drenched from head to toe? No. That was why without words, he dragged his friend into the room and hugged him tightly, letting the hotel door slip closed on its own. Chuck didn’t need to be told twice to hug back, nearly crushing Trent from the strength of his shaking arms.

They stayed like that for a good while, with Trent rubbing soothing circles into his back and letting him rest his head on his shoulder when he began to weep again. That was before he slowly drew back, silently taking Chuck’s hand and guiding him to his bed so he could sit. Trent grabbed the comforter and wrapped it around his friend, figuring he could just use a blanket later when he needed to sleep.

“I... didn’t even tell you- what’s wrong..?” murmured the Kentuckian, slouching in on himself and bringing his knees up so they were closer to his chest. He must have been really cold. Trent paused for a moment, looking with a pained yet sympathetic smile.

“Don’t need to. You’re upset, and I gotta fix that.” He wasn’t sure who hurt him, or even what, but just let it be known he was going to destroy whatever it was.

“Well, uh, t-thank you?”

“Yeah, dude. I-” Love you. “Care about you. You’re my friend and shit. Hurts to see you cry.” With that, Trent carefully maneuvered around Chuck and hopped off the bed to go rifle through his clothes for something dry he could wear. And- probably some pants for himself. When he first opened the door, he couldn’t help but notice Chuck gave him the slightest look up and down, with his cheeks going red afterwards. Trent assumed it was only because he was cold, and the warmth from his bedroom had fucked with his internal body temperature.

While digging through his bags trying to find some of the clothes he always packed for his friend - and if it were any other day than today, Trent would have told you it was because he was just being a nice guy. He knew better than that now. - Chuck began to talk again. “Date ditched me...”

“They didn’t show up?”

Chuck sighed. “No, she did. But- when her ex came around... She would’a rather been with him.”

Trent grabbed the extra clothes and stood, turning around to face Chuck who was staring off into the corner. Considering how already destroyed his heart already was from earlier, he was a bit surprised it still had a few more pieces that could shatter at this sight. Coming back over, he set the pile to one side of him, then sat back down on the other. “Chuck...”

“I don’t know what I expected? Every girl, or hell- every guy, I’ve ever tried to date has never worked out for me. I don’t get it.” Oh, Trent should not have been so happy to hear those words. Well, he wasn’t happy to hear most of them, and was hurting for his friend, but two of them in particular stuck out to him like a sore thumb. Every guy. That meant Chuck had been on dates with men. That meant, even though it was fucked up to think about this at the moment, that Trent still had a chance.

“You just haven’t found the right one, man. None of those assholes from before deserve you anyways.” Chuck brought his gaze back over to Trent, eyes glassy and expression- disbelieving. His hair was matted to his head, still wet in some places, but mostly stuck in small spots to his forehead. Everything else about him was still about the same caliber as that, slowly drying and clinging to parts of his body that weren’t being disrupted by the comforter.

“Or maybe I didn’t deserve them...” Something- came over Trent then. There wasn’t a word for the mix of emotions he felt upon hearing that. But what he could feel were his hands taking either side of his best friend’s face and holding his head up to where he would look him in the eyes.

“That’s not true, you and I both know that. Anyone in the world would be lucky to have you.”

Chuck honest to god laughed at that and tilted his head. “Name one person.”

Fuck. For all intents and purposes, the answer he desperately wanted to give was ‘Me’, but that never came out of his mouth. Instead, it was like Trent was suspended in fear, unable to say what he wanted for the thought of being rejected. Or somehow even worse, him thinking it was a joke and getting upset with him. So, Trent said nothing, trying to think of a different response that would be true, but didn’t give himself away.

That was the nail in the coffin, though. Chuck took his silence as an answer, unable to provide a single person who could possibly want to be with him. The other man shook Trent’s hands away from his face, hurt welling up in his eyes with a grimace as he moved to grab the clothes that were gotten for him.

“See,” Chuck hobbled to a standing position, holding the clean garments close to his sodden chest like it was going to protect him from the pain he was feeling. Trent, just say something, anything, he yelled to himself whilst watching Chuck shuffle over to the bathroom and pull the door open. He flicked his eyes down to the floor for a moment before coming back up and locking onto Trent’s. “No one could ever love me...”

“Chuck-” Trent was too late, Chuck had already disappeared into the bathroom and locked the door behind him. And God damn it, his stomach had sunk to the depth of his being, twisting and turning like he was going to be sick. He should have said something. Even if it meant ruining the only thing he really had left to care about. There was his job, his other friends, his family and that; and while they meant a lot to him as well, he truly believed in that moment, and probably for some while now, that Chuck was his world.

As goofy and kind of bullshit as it was to hear, that’s what he felt like. That this guy he’s known for a good chunk of his life was his sun, moon, and every star in the sky. And Trent knew he’s never felt that way about another person. He knew that no other person on this Earth - or fuck, any other planet - could beam at him when they pull an upset and win a match together like he could. No one else made his chest feel warm whenever they complimented him quite the same way that Chuck did. There wasn’t a soul who had the same giggle, the wit, the determination, the personality- fucking any of it. No one had quite what his best friend had, and that was why he loved him.

Trent had no idea how long Chuck was going to be in there, or if he was ever going to come out. Knowing him, he could stay in there all night, not wanting to face the world again- let alone his friend. Even still, he got up from where he was and placed himself a few paces away from his bathroom door. Within his head, he hyped himself up, vowing that no matter if he got scared or felt like everything was going to go wrong, the New Yorker was going to tell him the truth.

Approximately 4 minutes later - if you asked Trent it felt like 10 years - Chuck finally emerged from his hiding place, dressed in some of his friend’s clothes and with shockingly drier hair. Not sure why he was so surprised that he had run a towel through it or something, but that didn’t matter. The taller man seemed confused as to why Trent was standing at the door, but before he could ask what was happening, Trent said, “I do.”

Chuck squinted at him with a, “What?” but it came out choked off and shaky, like he wasn’t prepared to speak.

“You said no one could ever love you, and that’s not true. Because I love you,” He wanted to protest, but now that Trent was talking, he couldn’t stop. “And I didn’t realize it until today, but I seriously am so in love with you that I don’t think I could picture my life without you. You mean everything to me and I would do anything for you just to see your beautiful smile or hear you say my name. And I know it sounds like I’m lying and that I’m trying to make you feel better, but I’m not. If I think about it, I feel like I’ve loved you forever but never realized it, and I wish I could have known sooner. Because you need to know that you’re the most amazing person I’ve ever met, and I would be the luckiest guy in the world to even have a chance with you-”

“Trent-”

“I love the way you purposefully send me a string of those stupid emojis over text because you know it annoys me. I love how you can make anyone feel better with just one smile and your passion for loving others. I love how much you love animals and how every dog you see, you consider kidnapping-'' Trent had become so caught up in his declaration that he hadn’t noticed his friend had moved from in front of him and Chuck’s lips were on his.

Before he could even do anything; not even get a gasp at the sudden action, Chuck was already pulling away, breathing as if he had just run a mile. His face was bright red and his hands were holding either of Trent’s arms as he searched his face for a reaction. Or anything really.

“I- I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have-” It felt as though Trent was living in one of those shitty romantic comedies he secretly liked to watch, because he was the one who cut Chuck off while speaking with an somehow even more desperate kiss. He felt him respond almost instant, bringing one of his hands up to Trent’s face to cup it gently as his own arms latched cautiously onto Chuck’s hips. And that was where they stayed, for who knew how long, but every second of it was exactly where they wanted to be.

You know, of all days to have the life-changing realization that you’re secretly in love with your best friend, Trent - and Chuck for that matter - hadn’t expected it to happen on (the day after) Valentine’s Day.

[nachotrash]

MORE INCORRECT QUOTES WITH MY MOOTS

ft: @catchmewiddershins @lilikags and @paradise-creator // no haikyuu boys this time

Pauline: No more making fun of me when I misuse dated cultural references, alright? Are we cowabunga on this? Wid, sighing: Fine. We're cowabunga.

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

Pauline: We're having a baby. Shiyu: Oh, congradu- Wid, slamming adoption papers onto teh table: It's you, sign here.

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

Pauline: Why are there little handprints all over the walls? Shiyu, whispering: Why are there little handprints all over the walls? Wid, whispering: Because I have little hands. Shiyu: Because they have little hands.

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

Wid: I was born for politics. I have great hair and I love lying.

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

Lili: Life keeps fucking me and I can't remember the safeword.

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

Wid: Pros and cons of dating me. Wid: Pros. You'll be the cute one. Wid: Cons. Holy shit, where do I begin-

(cons. you're the smart one😔)

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

Shiyu: Sure, you're verified on twitter, but are you verified in the eyes of god?

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

Pauline: Theater kids are just choir kids who joined forces with the band and strings kids.

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

Shiyu: Did you just call me a shrimp, you asshole?! I'm still growing, dammit!

(*lipbites in 166 cm*)

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

Wid: I don't dab. I stab.

(nOw WhEarE HAvE i SeEn ThIs BeFoRe)

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

Shiyu: I scare people a lot because I walk very softly and they don't hear me enter rooms. So when they turn around, I'm just kind of there and their fear fuels me.

(t-pose to assert dominance)

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

Shiyu, as a child, reading their school assignment out loud: I love my library because... Shiyu, mouthing words while writing: I love reading, fuck you.

(lmao baby nacho really be bold)

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

Shiyu: The ‘how the fucks’ and 'why are you so dumbs’ don’t matter. All that matters is that I have a new gun.

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

Lili: It's not ugly, just aesthetically challenged.

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

Pauline: The last time I went to an urgent care clinic, I checked off 'excessive crying' on the symptom list, and then the nurse got really confused and said that was meant for babies.

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

Pauline: All of your existences are confusing. The Squad: How so? Pauline: Your presence is annoying, but the thought of anything bad happening to any of you upsets me.

(we are the squad now)

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

Lili: Blackmail is such an ugly word. I prefer extortion. The X makes it sound cool.

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

Wid: Real life should have a fucking search function, or something. Wid: I need my socks.

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

Pauline: New year, same me. Because I'm perfect.

(yes yes you are how dare you)

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

Shiyu: Yeah I'm LGBT. Shiyu: cuLt leader. Shiyu: God hates me personally. Shiyu: cowBoy hat. Shiyu: *sniffles* Trying my best.

(my asexual ass be like;)

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

Wid: *plays shreksophone* Wid: Woo. Wid: Time to listen to this on loop for all eternity. Shiyu: ...Genius coping mechanism my friend

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

Shiyu: Treat spiders the way you want to be treated. Pauline: Killed without hesitation.

----------

Pauline: The next time I open up to someone, it'll be my autopsy.

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

Pauline: Sometimes, I don’t realize an event was traumatic until I tell it as a funny story and notice everyone is staring at me weird.

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

Pauline: I hate Lili. Shiyu: "Hate' is a strong word. Pauline: I have strong opinions.

(oh no)

----------

Wid: How does that even work? Shiyu, mocking them: hOw dO yOu UsE a cOmPUteR aNd KnOw wHaTS GoiNg oN iT DoEsNt mAke SeNSe?! Wid: Your face doesnt make sense.

(...fair enough)

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

Pauline: Get in, loser, we’re committing vehicular manslaughter!

-----------

Pauline: My stomach growled super loud in French. Pauline: I would like to clarify, my stomach did not speak in French. It growled during French class. Shiyu: Bonjour. Lili: Le growl. Wid: Hon hon hon, feed me a baguette.

(reminds me of the 'ill speak french between your legs' tumblr legend and im wheezing)

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

Shiyu: *tapping fingers on table* Lili: *taps fingers back furiously* Wid: …What’s going on? Pauline: Morse code. They’re talking. Shiyu: -.-- ..- .-. / - …. . / -.-. ..- - . … - Lili: *slams hands on table* YOU TAKE THAT BACK!

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

Shiyu: For self defense reasons, I'm going to pretend to be a burglar and you guys have to act wisely. Wid, Lili, & Pauline: Okay. Shiyu: If you don't want to die, give me all your money. Wid: Bold of you to assume I have money. Lili: Bold of you to assume I don't want to die. Pauline: Bold of you to assume I can die.

(pauline is a goddess. goddesses cant die)

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

Lili: If I punch myself and it hurts, am I weak or strong? Wid: Strong. Shiyu: Weak. Pauline: An idiot, is what your are.

(as long as you dont flinch or scream youre strong. unless you get punched in the gut by someone like ushijima ofc)

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

Shiyu: Those darn tall old people. Wid: Darm em' indeed. Pauline: Don't worry, they'll be gone soon enough. Lili: *sharpening knife* Yes. Dead. The Squad: Lili: Hahaha. Lili: ...Is this self-destructive behaviour?

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

Wid: Oh god, they texted you ‘hi.’’ punctuation only means one thing, Pauline. They're mad at you. Pauline: No, it's Shiyu. They're just being gramatically correct! *meanwhile* Shiyu: And then I used a period so they'd know that I'm mad at them. Lili: A period doesn't say 'I'm mad', it says 'you're dead to me'. Shiyu: I stand by my choice.

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

Wid: What do we think of Shiyu? *pause* Lili: *sighs* Nice pal. Pauline: I think they're gay.

=------------

Wid: Where is Shiyu? Pauline: I'll do you one better, who is Shiyu?? Lili: Here's a better question, why is Shiyu?

(i dont know man. ive been trying to figure it out for the last few years)

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

Wid: On the count of three, what’s your favorite cake? Wid & Lili: One, two, three- Wid & Lili: Chocolate cake, peanutbutter frosting, and chocolate chunks! Shiyu: Our turn, Pauline! One, two, three- Shiyu: Vanilla! Pauline: I’ve never had cake before. What is cake?

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

Pauline: I am darkness. I am an power. I am your worst nightmare. I could kill a man in more ways than you can imagine. I am the night. I am fury, I am a weapon, I am- Wid: A doll. Shiyu: A cinnamon roll. Lili: A sweetheart. Pauline: Pauline: ...stop it.

(cant deny the truth bby)

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

Wid, Pauline & Shiyu: *screaming* Lili: *runs into the room* What's wrong, Shiyu?! Wid: Wait, why are you asking Shiyu that when Pauline and I are also here? Lili: Because Shiyu wouldn't scream unless it's an emergency. You two scream whenever you have the chance.

(i mean... its true )

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

Pauline: What’s wrong? You look 10 seconds away from ripping someone’s throat out. Wid: Fucking Shiyu and Lili were trying to invoke one of the minor gods again last night. I didn't get an ounce of sleep, thanks to their bloody chanting.

(manifests dvalin cause i wanna ride on their back and fall off)

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

Lili: Wake me up- Wid: Before you go go Shiyu: When September ends Pauline: WAKE ME UP INSIDE

(cant wake up- WAKE ME UP INSIDE)

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

Shiyu, watching Pauline & Lili panic : What's going on? Wid: Pauline is having a midlife crisis and Lili is just having a crisis.

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

Lili: *Gasp* Pauline: wHAT?? Lili: What if soy milk is just milk introducing itself in Spanish? Pauline: *inhales* Wid, in another room with Shiyu: Why can I hear screeching?

(shiyu: same shit different day)

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

Shiyu: Christmas is cancelled. Wid: You can't cancel a holiday. Shiyu: Keep it up, Wid, and you'll lose New Year's too. Wid: What does that mean? Shiyu: Lili, take New Year's away from Wid.

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

Pauline: So, are they your friend or... Lili: They’re like Wid, but if Wid was ordered to be around you. Pauline: Oh, so Shiyu. Lili: Precisely!

(if its about how annoyed i always look then you ahve a point)

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

Wid: You’re just being paranoid. Again. Pauline: When have I been paranoid? Wid: Um, when you first met Lili you thought they were an undercover cop…? Pauline: No one has a wart that big, I thought it was a surveillance camera! Wid: And last year you were sure Shiyu was a mermaid! Pauline: They hate wearing shirts! COINCIDENCE?! *Later, when Pauline’s theory is proven wrong* Wid: Do you have anything to say for yourself? Pauline: I still think Shiyu is a mermaid.

(id gladly be one)

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

*Wid drunkenly wanders around the manor and Lili is drunkenly giggling* Shiyu, completely sober: *sighs* Well, looks like it's just me and you against the wold, Pauline. Pauline, going to their room: Nope, just you. *shuts door*

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

Wid: We need to distract these guys. Lili: Leave it to me. Lili: Centaurs have six limbs and are therefore insects. Discuss. Pauline & Shiyu: *immediately begin arguing*

(*pulls out dictionary*)

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

Police: You’re under arrest for trying to carry three people on a single motorcycle. Shiyu, with Wid and Lili behind them: Wait, what do you mean THREE?! Police: Yes…three. Shiyu: Oh, my God— What the fuck!? Police: Wha- Shiyu: Pauline FUCKING FELL OFF!

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

Wid: What is love? Pauline: An emotional minefield. Shiyu: A neurochemical reaction. Lili: Baby don't hurt me.

(BECAUSE FUCK EMOTIONS)

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

Pauline: I currently have 7 empty notebooks and I have no idea what to put in them. Any suggestions? Wid: Put spaghetti in it. Pauline: I am currently taking suggestions from everyone but you. Lili: Put spaghetti in it. Pauline: I am currently taking suggestions from everyone but you two. Shiyu: Put spaghetti in it. Pauline: I am no longer taking suggestions.

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

Shiyu, pointing to the wall: What color is this? Pauline: Gray. Lili: Grey. Shiyu, turning to Wid: Now tell them what color you think it is. Wid: Dark white.

[rdrthingies]

Cupid Writing Event

hey @freethesmolpenguins I’m your cupid this year for the rdr writing even! I hope you like some gay cowboys because OH BOY are you in for a mcfreaking treat! @rdr-secret-cupid

The ending is a little rushed but overall I am very proud with this and hope you’ll enjoy it was well!

Arthur had been working himself to the bone and just about everyone could see it. Always awake before dawn for a quick cup of coffee, or two, and do the day's chores. Feeding the chickens, bringing the maze to the wagon, chopping wood, and finally feeding the horses. It would be then that he would leave on his horse, just as the last person (typically Uncle or Swanson) got up, he would be gone.

He would return after nightfall, typically with blood and/or mud on him, and give the camp its share of his earnings that day. He would then scrape up the last, cold remnants of the stew and eat it quickly, as if he was a stray dog who had just found a stray porkchop. He would eat at the table while everyone else was gathered at the fire, sharing stories and drinks and a good laugh. It’s rare that Arthur would join, and when he does, it’s never long.

Hosea and Charles were the two who noticed this the most; Hosea incredibly concerned about the wellbeing of his son, and Charles concerned for his... friend-who-is-more-than-a-friend.

The two talked quietly even if there was no point in it, Arthur was never in camp when they discussed his health and wellbeing.

“You should take him out,” Hosea offered. “Take him hunting or... fishing or... I dunno just some place where he won’t get shot and can relax.” Hosea smiled a little, hands folded on the table, fingers drumming on the wood. Charles’ gaze was on one of the many cuts in the wood, hands in his lap as he spoke. “And how do you suggest I convince him to do that?” Hosea laughed a little, waving his hands. “I know you can be rather... persuasive with him. He listens to you... That and you are probably capable of hogtying him and putting him on the back of Taima.” The two laughed at that, Charles’ cheeks having a pink hue at the compliments.

Charles excused himself to do some more chores, a plan forming in his head.

That night Arthur returns, as usual, placing one hundred dollars in the box and two rabbits at the table, his eyes heavy with dark circles. Charles watched from the corner of his eye as Arthur almost stumbled up to the pot and poured himself some lukewarm stew, going to his cot and nearly collapsing onto it.

Charles waited until the man was halfway done before walking up to him normally, the pace slow but purposeful, head held high. “Hey Arthur, wanna go hunting with me tomorrow?”

Arthur looked up, eyes squinting, and even though he was exhausted to the bone he still found the strength to smile at his... whatever Charles was to him. “Sure but we’ve got meat for days, even Pearson is saying we have enough an’ that’s saying somethin.” The two chuckled lightly one deep and rich and the other breathy.

“I know but,” Charles shifted on his feet. “Well, I was gonna go up north a ways, by Cumberland Forest. There are some big elk up there. We can spend a couple of days there and by the time we come back with the Elk the camp will be needing the meat.”

It was a sound plan, a solid plan. Just a couple of days relaxing in the forest before providing the forest with food and supplies.

Only, “The camp needs more money than meat right now. I’ve been looking into leads an’ all that but...” He sighs, head hanging low, hands rubbing against each other to stop them from shaking. “Never seems to be ‘nough.”

“Arthur,” Charles kneels down before him, hand on his knee, forcing those breathtaking blue eyes to stare into his own. “You’ll do the camp no good if you collapse from exhaustion. Don’t think I haven’t seen it: waking up before dawn and coming back after dusk. You’ll run yourself ragged.” Arthur goes to argue, to insist that he’s fine, but Charles beats him to it. “You’re not fine, Arthur. You’re the opposite of fine, and one of these days it’s going to catch up to you and you’ll crash and burn.” He can’t help but raise his voice, needing Arthur to understand him. “Come with me for a couple of days, catch up on sleep outside of camp, away from those like Sean and Micah and Bill. Relax and-and let your body heal.”

Arthur thinks, mind fuzzy both with exhaustion and the fact that Charles’ hand was still resting on his knee, thumb rubbing circles onto it. It seemed like an eternity later before Arthur finally exhaled heavily, head slumping. “Alright... alright. I’ll go with you.”

Charles smiled brightly, “Thank you Arthur. It means a lot to me.” He stayed with Arthur for a little while longer, before finally standing and bidding goodnight to Arthur and crawling into his bedroll.

That morning Charles was up bright and early as always, packing his things onto Taima and grabbing a bit of breakfast for the road. The full sun was just above the horizon when Arthur got up, eyes droopy and suffering from bedhead.

He already had most all of his things packed onto his horse, as was common with the Enforcer. He brought Athena to Taima, the two mares nosing each other in greeting. Charles approaches them soon after, a rare smile on his face.

“Ready, Arthur?” Charles calls out, receiving a nod in answer. “Alright then, let’s get going. Might be able to get to the forest today.” The two mount up and trot out of camp, Hosea watching them leave with a cup of coffee and a satisfied smile on his wrinkled face.

They did manage to reach the forest just as the sun was beginning to dip beyond the horizon. They set up camp quietly and efficiently, always working as if in sync with one another. Arthur sets up the tent as Charles gets the campfire set up, the fire crackling to life just as Arthur nailed the last peg into the ground.

They cook up some meat and beans, eating their meal in relative silence, only some little things here and there. But it wasn’t an awkward silence, it never was with Arthur and Charles. Where most everyone else in the gang must talk, share stories or ask questions, Charles is fine with silence. It’s one of the first things Arthur noticed about the man and one he likes the most about the man. It’s such a refreshing thing to hear - or not hear - Arthur supposes. And through their hunting trips and robberies together, Charles has spoken more and more. About himself, about his culture and family... it was as if Arthur had earned enough respect from the man. Arthur doesn’t know when their relationship became... more. It just sort of happened, hunting trips that ended with them snuggled up against each other, Arthur’s head on his broad chest as Charles plays with his fair hair. They hadn’t kissed yet, hadn’t gone that far, but it was still something... special.

Before he knew it the sun had set and the moon and stars are twinkling in the night. Arthur had taken to doodling in his journal, drawing the scenery he had seen on the ride over, with Taima and Charles in front of him.

“Arthur,” Charles’ voice startles him, head lifting to the man beside him, suddenly his breath taken by the way the fire had reflected across the man’s face, illuminating his dark hair. “We should get to bed,” Charles speaks again, Arthur nods, but his mind is focusing on how he could possibly capture the man’s beautiful features. But finally, the two crawled into the tent and Arthur fitfully went to sleep.

There’s gunfire, it’s loud as if they’re firing right beside him, but he cannot focus on it. He can only focus on the bodies in front of him. Sean, Hosea, Lenny, Javier, Mary-Beth, Karen, Tilly, even Kieran was amongst the pile of bodies. Blood coated them in some way, Sean was missing half his face, Lenny had a hole in his stomach. Javier had a noose around his neck, blood coating it. Arthur couldn’t think, couldn’t talk, couldn’t breathe. He only stared as his family was all butchered before him, everyone but him.

“You failed us, Arthur.” A voice rang out, Dutch. Arthur lifted and searched, finding their leader, standing at the head of the bodies, face caved in, gunshots in him...

“You betrayed us!” He shouted again, it was like a knife in his chest. “If you had only worked harder for us, done more for us, then we could live. But you’re selfish, weak, pathetic!” Arthur could feel tears running down his face, sobbing, shaking his head. No, no this isn’t happening, they’re not dead. He’s not selfish, he’s not pathetic, he has done so much for this family for his family-

“Arthur!” Another voice echoed out, distant, a familiar voice. “Arthur!” It got louder, closer, someone’s approaching, but who?

“Arthur wake up!” Charles shook Arthur heavily, the older man snapping his eyes awake and gasping for air as if he was brought back to life. He began to panic, arms flailing around, eyes unfocused. Charles held him close, shushing him, arms running up and down his back. “It’s okay Arthur, it’s okay. It was just a dream, breathe for me.” Finally, slowly, Arthur calmed down. His mind catching up with his body, slumping against the broader man.

“Th-they all died,” Arthur muttered out, Charles’ face drawn with worry. “I-I killed ‘em.”

“Who?” Charles asked softly, still running his hand up and down his back.

“E-everyone. The gang I-I killed them.”

“It’s just a dream, Arthur-”

“No!” Arthur sat up, hands in his hair. “I-I’m going to get ‘em killed Charles! My laziness m-my selfishness it’s-! It’s going to get them killed!”

Charles kneeled before the man, hands gently taking the others, holding them. “Arthur, you are doing everything for them. You’re literally working yourself to death for them, Arthur.”

“But Dutch-”

“Don’t listen to Dutch,” Charles interrupts, voice like stone to get through to the man. “He puts too much pressure on you. Far too much. He gets onto you about money and jobs while Sean and Bill sit on their asses all day and get drunk. You have to take care of yourself. You’re just as much of this gang as the rest of us, if not more.” Arthur is quiet, blinking into Charles’ eyes, mouth hanging open.

Charles had never seen Arthur cry, never even seen him sad enough to cry. But now Arthur was crying in front of him, sobbing in front of him as his cracks. The weight of these past months, of being the workhorse, finally caving in on him. All Charles can do and bring him in close, soothing the man, humming a lullaby his mother used to sing to him. By the time Arthur had run out of tears, the sun was rising, but Charles did not dare stop holding the man. He fell asleep in his arms, cradled against his chest.

[knives-out20]

Nightlife - Cliff Booth x Male!OC

Fandom: Once Upon A Time In Hollywood (2019)

Pairing: Bobby Brightside (OC) x Cliff Booth

Warnings: Swearing, Slight angst but not really, Deep’s in rehab, Faggotry, Fluff, OOC Cliff but I don’t care it’s literally midnight here give me a break,

Notes: Another Love by Tom Odell got me in a MOOD. Also, I firmly believe in the theory that Aldo Raine and Cliff Booth are the same person and nothing, not even Quentin Tarantino himself, can take that away from me.

Cliff stirred himself awake, not having a source of light asides from the moonlight shining in though the window. He groaned quietly as he rubbed his eye, his other arm outstretching to reach for Bobby. Cliff expected Bobby to have been weirdly awoken, too. 

He did not expect his hand to meet an empty half of the bed.

Cliff turned his head, realizing he was alone in bed- not even in bed, but the entire room, as well. He slowly sat up, the wind coming in through the open window sending him chills. “Bobby-?” Cliff whispered, growing worried. He finally took note of his sense of hearing, and noticed a noise coming from the open window.

Singing? No, he couldn’t make out any words, and it sounded close enough to be able to hear words if any were being sung.

Cliff silently got out of bed, carefully putting on a black t-shirt over his bare torso. He trudged across the room and onto the balcony that the window led to, looking around. Cliff then looked onto the roof of the house.

Bobby lay across the upward-slanted roof, one leg straight out and the other one bent so that his foot was flat on the roof. He held a guitar in his arms, softly strumming and vocalizing to himself. Not quiet enough for Cliff to not hear him, but also not loud enough for the whole street to hear him.

One corner of Cliff’s lips perked up, hands on his hips. He squinted up at Bobby. “Hey, Bobby” Cliff whispered, louder than he did before. “Bobby.”

Bobby opened his eyes, looking down at Cliff. “Oh...hey.”

“What’re you doin’?”

“Doin’ some late-night practicing” Bobby shrugged, no longer playing his guitar. “I couldn’t sleep, and I didn’t wanna wake you up. You looked so...peaceful, I could never fuckin’ ruin that.”

Cliff chuckled breathlessly. “You’re sweet.”

Bobby hummed in response. “I thought to myself, what’s the next best thing that could distract me from my thoughts, if I can’t use Cliff? And, like fate, the moon comin’ in through the window shone onto this guitar. You can physically see the rest of this tale in front of you.”

“Indeed I can” Cliff nodded. He turned around, at the illuminated streets of Hollywood before him. Cliff looked up at Bobby. “Wanna take a walk?”

“Now?” Bobby scoffed.

“Night’s ripe for the takin’. You couldn’t sleep, I can’t sleep, neither of us are in the mood to get each other tired out tonight-”

“Oh my god-”

Cliff shook his head. “We could walk around for a bit. Talk, just me ‘n’ you.”

“And if any rampant hippies come our way? Like back in August?”

“I’ll fend ‘em off like last time, but this time I’m sober. And you’ll be awake as hell.”

Bobby winked, putting his finger on his nose. “Every man for himself.”

“Alright, alright, get down here” Cliff waved his hand dismissively.

Bobby giggled as he slid back onto the balcony. The next few minutes were a blur of Cliff and him getting ready to go outside, next thing he knew being that he was on his front lawn.

Cliff came up behind him. “I locked the front door. We should be good, c’mon.”

Bobby took Cliff’s hand in his own, beginning their walk down the sidewalk.

“When did you...” Cliff paused, clearing his throat. “Last hear from Deep? Or about him?”

Bobby gulped. “Uh...he checked in, when he checked in. When you get into rehab, a sort of wall builds between you and the outside world until you check out. That wall is up super-duper-ooper strong” he told, scratching his chin with his free hand. “I can’t wait to see him again. And it’ll be better than any other time I’ve seen him again, because he himself will be better. He’ll have grown, and become a better person than he was the last time we saw him. Hopefully happier, and healthier. You- You know yourself, on our relationship with drugs. Yours, mine, Deep’s, the other Buddies’, Deep just...Y’know.”

“Yea” Cliff agreed swiftly. “The band feels empty without him, eh?”

“Sure does.”

Cliff squeezed Bobby’s hand. “I know that feeling.”

“Hm?”

“When I just woke up without you...I think I know how you feel when I ain’t around” Cliff admitted. “The window was wide open, I was cold, and the room was dark and empty. It felt weird, man. I didn’t like it at all. Then, I found you on the roof, and I couldn’t stop smiling ‘cause I had you back with me.”

“Now you know how I fuckin’ feel, tough guy, welcome to my world” Bobby teased. “But seriously, I can’t even imagine life without you now, sunlight.”

“You’ve told me so, moonlight. Way too many times for me to count, but enough for me to know it’s true” Cliff beamed, hence his endearingly-given nickname, ‘sunlight’.

“Seriously! I- I mean, I’d rather fucking like...I’d rather get stabbed thirty times, drown, get run over by a car, bathe in lemon juice while I’m covered in fresh cuts, or get beat the fuck out of, instead of see you leave me. I’d rather-”

“Woah, cowboy” Cliff whistled, raising his hand to silence Bobby- it worked. “Feeling’s mutual, trust me...Really, trust me.”

“I’d never think otherwise.”

Cliff licked his lips as they continued walking. “When I try thinking of life without you, I’m thrown back into like...life before you.”

“Like, with...with her-?

“Before her too, actually. Back when I was in the war.”

“Oh, yea, Mr. War Veteran Macho Army Lieutenant man is gonna lecture me of his days in the trench” Bobby mocked, but Cliff and him both knew Bobby loved listening to Cliff just talk. Talk, and talk, and talk about anything and everything.

“Yea, I had this little group of soldiers with me- a lot of ‘em were Jewish, like, uh, like Frankie. I was kinda their leader, and I lost a lot of ‘em along the way. Except for two people. I had this pal, Utivich...he’s probably off in Manhattan somewhere with his gal and the books he wrote. And then there was...” Cliff inhaled sharply, eyes darting down to the sidewalk he tread across.

Bobby tilted his head, lightly nudging Cliff. “Cliffy-?”

“There was a man I had. Before you, and before Billie” Cliff explained, the name bouncing around in his head: Joshua. “His name was Joshua...Joshua Margolis.”

“Fancy name.”

“Yea, I know. He was a fancy guy. We grew up side-by-side but in completely different upbringings. We entered the war together, and left it together. Y’know, you remind me of him, and- and I know this is probably a bad or weird thing t’say-”

“No, no, no” Bobby cut Cliff off, instantly shaking his head. “No, not at all. Tell me about him” he insisted, thumb stroking Cliff’s hand.

Cliff smiled in reminisce. “You both have dark hair, brown. You’re both shorter than me, but not enough for it to have been noticeable. You both just wanted a better world for anyone whose lives were argued against it. He was Jewish, and dating me, a man, so it’s obvious who he wanted to help. You’re both sweet, and real fighters, mentally and physically. I wish you could’ve met him if you weren’t so young around then. You would’ve loved him.”

“Would he have loved me?”

“Oh, no doubt about it, honey” Cliff chortled. “But he’s long gone now. Then came and left Billie. Then came you. And nobody I’ve ever been with, not even Joshua, has made me feel like you do....Safe.”

“I make you feel safe?” Bobby’s eyes went wide.

“Lower your voice, damn-” Cliff shushed him, looking around cautiously. “Weirdly, yes. And it’s strange, ‘cause I know how I make you feel safe, and- and I pride myself on that. I wanna continue making you feel safe, and at home, while you also do the same to me.”

Bobby looked up at Cliff in wonder.

Cliff looked a bit nervous. “You okay, baby-?”

“I love you.”

Cliff’s lips broke out into a soft smile. “I love you too, Bobby.”

The two kept walking, turning a corner that Bobby knew led back to his house. 

“I fight because the world isn’t a good place. It hasn’t been one to me, most days, and it hasn’t been one to other people, everyday. And I- like Joshua, I guess- wanna fucking change that shit. But,” Bobby brought Cliff’s knuckles to his lips, placing a long, adoring kiss onto them. “I forgive the world because it has you in it.”

Cliff felt himself, and dare I say it, blushing. Luckily, it didn’t show under streetlights they passed. “Jeez, man” Cliff giggled.

Bobby smiled to himself. “Ready to head back home?”

Cliff gestured between himself and Bobby, “I already am.”

Bobby shoved Cliff lightly, their giggles melding into one, amazing sound. He led them back to their house, but Bobby knew Cliff had a point.

If Cliff was with Bobby, Cliff’s at home.

If Bobby was with Cliff, Bobby’s at home.

And there’s no changing that.

[clarasweets]

The Lost Texts || 🛋️🦙

Clara:  You can try but when the raspberry uprising comes, no one is gonna be prepared. Clara:  If you want me to lose everything, you're gonna have to work for it.

Alex: Don’t think there’s gonna be one of them. And if there is, Barnabas will be prepared. We’ll be good. Alex: How do I do that?

Clara: How do you know Barnab is prepared? Fruit uprisings are probably the last thing on his mind. Clara: Get creative, Huckleberry. I'm sure you can think of somethin' to make me want to take my clothes off.

Alex: We can tell him to start thinking ‘bout them. Reyes too. Alex: Uh, I could take mine off? That work?

Clara: Their combined brain power might be able to keep you safe from the raspberries. For now.  Clara: Are you just gonna take 'em off and just stand there starin' at me?

Alex: Don’t think raspberries have got anythin’ against me. Huckleberries might. Alex: Would that work?

Clara: You're the Huckleberry Supreme. You rule those bitches. Clara: That would not work. You think this is a Jake and Amy situation where you can just whip it out and wave it around and I'll be rarin' to go?

Alex: But I’m not a real huckleberry. They might take offense to that. Alex: Definitely wasn’t gonna do that. What if I took your clothes off?

Clara: You're the biggest Huckleberry around. You doubtin' your name? Clara: That might work, dependin'  on your methods.

Alex: Nah, but all the other huckleberries might be jealous. No one’s eatin’ me or turnin’ me into a pie. Alex: If I’m takin’ your clothes off myself, why wouldn’t it work?

Clara: I think that makes you the Huckleberry superior. Mad survival skills to be envied. Clara: The method matters, Cowboy. We take clothes off the kids all the time and let me tell you, that ain't sexy at all.

Alex: Alright but if they wanna overthrow me or somethin’, I’m tellin’ them to talk to you. You’re the one who gave me the name. Alex: Yeah, ‘cause they’re our kids. You’re my girlfriend so don’t that automatically make it sexy?

Clara: You're like 5009x their size. Let them try. Clara: No, it don't. Sorry to be the one to inform you. I've gotten drunk before and you changed me into my pjs. Was that sexy for you?

Alex: There’s a load more of them than me. You never seen Bugs Life? Alex: You were drunk so nah, it wasn’t. But you’re not drunk now. Don’t that change stuff, or are you makin’ me work real hard for this?

Clara: No, I've never seen A Bug's Life.  Clara: Exactly, there's a right way and a wrong way to sexily take off clothes. As the Beastie Boys said, you gotta fight… for your right… to party.

Alex: You get a load of smaller things, and they can take on the big guy. I’d be the big Huckleberry guy. Alex: Think I’m too tired to party, but I guess I can think up a way to sexily take your clothes off for a different kinda party.

Clara: I think you'll be fine. If nothing else, you can get a flame thrower and make toasted Huckleberry pie. Clara: I have faith in you. You've had a high success rate in the past.

Alex: That a thing? Alex: Only high? Thought I had a 100% success rate goin’.

Clara: Anything can be a pie if you try hard enough. Haven't you seen Sweeny Todd? Clara: See previously mentioned drunkenness. 

Alex: Nah, I haven’t. Alex: That was just changin’ your clothes. That don’t count. I wasn’t tryin’ nothing and you fell asleep halfway through.

Clara: Probably for the best. But the point still stands! Clara: It does count. It's like tryin'  to jam a square into a triangle. 

Alex: But I wasn’t tryin’ to jam nothing nowhere. Alex: Hey. Can I ask you somethin’?

Clara: You know you can, Huckleberry.

Alex: When I was lookin' up IED, it said it can be because of genetics. And I can't stop thinkin' about that. Alex: Do you think they'll be okay?

Clara: Yeah, Huckleberry. They'll be okay. Knowin' that just means we can teach them coping mechanisms early on. And we can always have them go to therapy. Just in general, not just for possible IED. Or depression, which can also be genetic. 

Alex: Okay. That makes me feel a lot better. I just don’t want them to ever feel how I’ve felt, y’know? Alex: Also read that IED can lead to a load of other health problems, including depression. I think I’m alright but I guess it’s somethin’ to watch out for.

[i-write-fanfics-to-procrastinate]

Can I request some nice Vergil/Lady because I think the world needs to see it No I am no one you know I hacked your computer and read your DMC fanfictions and they are too darn good to be hidden from the interwebs. Anything will do but they have to be sassing each other, obviously 😤🙏❤️

I know this you, Bree >:( EXPOSING ME LIKE THIS. VL is my favorite thing right now so...here, have some :D

Feelings

              She woke up gasping, and then burst into a cough, which made her back and head throb. “Shit…” she bit her lip, and blinked away the haze of sleep. She was on the couch at the office. Soft blue blanket pulled over her, a bandage around her head.

              “You’re awake!” Dante’s voice, much too loud, pulled her out of her thoughts.

              “Dante… what happened? The last I remember…” Lady paused, they had been facing a whole host of demons, and their leader—some sort of old god summoned from the depths of hell (or so they said). All in a day’s work, of course, but she couldn’t remember anything past getting rid of most of the hoard.

              “You were injured,” Vergil stepped down from the stairs. He wasn’t wearing his typical blue coat, and though his hair was still brushed back away from his face it was more of a mess than usual. “It’s no wonder you can’t remember.”

              “You hit your head pretty hard.” Dante frowned, “There was a lot of blood. Vergil was freaking out.”

              Vergil scoffed, “Tch. I was not.”

              “He was.” Dante stood, grabbing his coat. “I’m going to pick up my pizza and since I’m out, I’ll grab some pain killers for you. You look like you need ‘em.”

              “I really don’t remember anything. But… it couldn’t have been too bad,” Lady said, glancing up at where Dante had paused in the doorway.

              “It would have been a lot worse,” he said, “If Vergil hadn’t taken the hit for you.” And then he was gone.

              Lady was silent for a long moment before turning to look at his twin brother. Vergil had crossed the room to where he had left his teacup on Dante’s desk, lifting it gingerly with his hands, before turning to face her again.

              “Is it true?” She frowned, staring into his pale blue eyes. Vergil didn’t respond, taking a sip of his tea. “Answer me!” she snapped.

              Vergil let out a deep sigh, “It is true that, while you were in imminent danger, I pushed you out of the way.”

              She bristled, gritting her teeth. “I can take care of myself!”

              “If I had let you ‘take care of yourself,’” Vergil said coolly, “You would be dead.”

              “Please,” Lady scoffed, “You’re exaggerating. I’ve been hit hard before, Vergil. I’ve broken bones, I’ve been cut. I could have taken it—” As she ranted he moved silently across the room to where his coat hung up on the rack by the door He lifted it off the hook. “Where are you going?” Lady frowned, but he just silently tossed her the blue coat, and she just barely caught it. It was heavy, long, the buttons scratched and dull. As she turned it in her hands, she saw immediately why he had tossed it to her. The front of Vergil’s coat was torn to pieces, absolutely in tatters, the side opposite his heart.

              “I was down for too long,” he said, face practically expressionless. “I can still taste the blood. You would be dead.”

              She couldn’t deny it now. These gashes in his coat were thick. Just imagining them in her chest made her feel sick. The realization of her own mortality hit her like a ton of bricks. She felt a weight on her chest like she had never felt before. I could have died. And then what. She ran her hand over Vergil’s coat again. There were so many things that would have been left unsaid. What about their next job? Or their next? Which outing would finally end up killing her?

              “Then…” she hesitated, clutching his coat in her hands. “There’s something you should know.”

              He set his tea down, “I know the coat is ruined. I’ll find a replacement. It’s quite alright.”

              “Not that,” she said rolling her eyes. She still held the heavy fabric in her hands. “I think I need to tell you something, in case next time… you can’t take the hit for me.” The gravity of her words weighed heavy with the following silence. Vergil set his teacup down heavily, his brow furrowed.

              “What are you talking about?” he asked, irritation in his blue eyes.

              “I’m saying… if I die… you need to know this.” She insisted.

              “I’m listening,” he said, gesturing for her to continue. What he didn’t realize was this was so hard. She felt like there were knots in her middle.

              “The fact is…. I…” She felt heat rise in her cheeks. Last week she had sat with him in the kitchen, and he had been reading. She had been admiring him from where she sat, the curve of his jaw, the way he seemed so content and absorbed with the book in his hands, pale blue eyes tracing over the words on the page. They had talked before. She liked the way he held the door for her, the way it felt when they stood back to back in a fight. She liked when he told her they would complete their job together.  

But, recently it was different. Recently, she was realizing it was more than just admiration. She felt something for him beyond that… “Vergil… the fact is…” she tore her gaze away from his eyes, clinging to his tattered coat for dear life, her cheeks felt like they were on fire. Why is this so hard? I’ve faced demons and… this…? “What I’m trying to say…”

“Are you feeling ill? You’re not making sense.” He frowned, crouching in front of her to press his hand to her forehead. “You did hit your head hard… and now you appear to be very flushed…”

“No!” Lady huffed, “Shut up and listen. I have feelings for you, Vergil.”

There was silence. Lady recognized the expression on Vergil’s face, his eyes searching. She could practically see the gears turning in his head. “Feelings…” he mumbled, “Well, I suppose I have feelings for you too.” Her heart skipped a beat.

“Y-you—”

“And everyone else… of course.”

“What?”

              “Dante makes me feel…” he paused, “Irritated. Trish—” Lady groaned, dropping her head against his tattered coat.

              “Forget about Dante and the others. That’s not the point. How do I make you feel?”

              “Confused,” he said without pause. And then he hesitated. “I used to think everything in life was so straightforward. I had my beliefs and I had my goals. I knew what I was seeking and I knew what I had to do to get there. But now… there’s you. Everything is jumbled in my mind. I want something… but I don’t know how to attain it. I try to think logically—”

              “Don’t think,” She said.

              “W-what?” Vergil blinked, as if it was the most absurd thing he’d heard.

              “I said stop thinking,” she said, tossing aside his coat, reaching out for him. She cupped both his cheeks, pulling him towards her to press a firm kiss to his lips. He tensed beneath her touch, and then tilted his head as she threaded her fingers through his hair. He was hot against her as she deepened the kiss and his hands tightening on her hips.

              When she pulled away, too soon, he held on to her. His eyes wide, cheeks flushed. “I see…. Those feelings.” His hands left her side, and her heart dropped. Of course, Vergil didn’t feel that way…. How could she be so stupid to think…?

              “You don’t have… those feelings…” she whispered.

              Vergil didn’t answer, raising his hand, and hesitating for a long moment before touching her cheek. “My feelings for you are a jumble,” he murmured, studying her, “But… when you kissed me it seemed as though… the puzzle was being put together at last…” he hesitated, leaning close. Lady’s heart skipped a beat. And then he kissed her tenderly once more… a chaste, quick kiss, thumb brushing her jaw. Just as she was about to kiss him again the door swung open, and there was the sound of heavy boots on the hardwood floor.

              “I’m baaaack!” Dante sang as Lady sat bolt upright, cheeks as hot as Vergil’s touch. The younger of the twins paused in the doorway, glancing suspiciously between the two. Vergil reached out and grabbed his tea, sitting back in his chair and taking a sip of his drink as if nothing had happened. “What are you two doing?” Dante frowned.

              “Vergil was showing me his coat,” Lady said, reaching out to grasp the heavy blue fabric.

Dante narrowed his eyes for a moment and then shrugged his shoulders with a laugh. “Yeah, it’s pretty busted, huh?” He crossed the room and handed Lady a little bag. “Here, some pain meds. And now, at last, I can enjoy my pizza.” He marched over to his desk, setting the pizza box down and dropping back into his chair, kicking his boots up on his desk and grabbing that first slice… just as the phone rang. “For the love of…”

“You better answer that, cowboy,” Lady said, leaning back on the sofa, and opening the bottle of ibuprofen. “I’m out of commission. And Vergil doesn’t know how phones work.”

Vergil glanced towards her over his tea, brows drawn together. She winked, and he quickly looked away, a nearly imperceptible blush rising on his cheeks.

Dante let out a heavy sigh as the ring sounded out once more, and he lifted the phone from the switch hook. “Devil May Cry.” Another job, possibly. Lady glanced over at Vergil. She was glad she told him. Though…. She had no idea what it meant for their future… together. She was glad he knew and… he had kissed her. He met her eyes over his tea once more. The feelings are mutual.

[sad-sweet-cowboah]

Spooky Scary Special

Summary: It’s Arthur’s first Halloween!

“Spooky season! My favorite time of year!”

Arthur peered at you curiously from over his journal. “What?”

“It’s October! The month of spooks, and Halloween!” You exclaimed, twirling in excitement. “Time to get scary!”

Arthur placed his journal down, looking at you with a curious, yet amused expression. “It’s that big of a deal for ya?”

“Of course,” you responded. “Halloween is a cultural phenomenon nowadays. You ever celebrate it?”

Arthur shrugged. “Can’t say I have, darlin’.”

“Then you’re in for a treat. Spooky stories, Halloween movies, parties, costumes, and candy!” You giggled. “This neighborhood is full of children, it’s always great to see what they dress up as.”

The amused expression on Arthur’s face never changed as you continued to speak about Halloween, and the weeks leading up to it. He seemed interested, though slightly confused. He’d heard about similar traditions, though never got to experience it himself due to his lifestyle. You planned on making his first Halloween something special.

You first started by dragging out some décor that sat in storage. Fake cobwebs, styrofoam tombstones, skeletons to hang on the front door. You also had indoor things; witchy knickknacks and drinking glasses shaped like goblets and potion bottles. You’d packed up your summer sheets and switched them in favor for the colors of autumn. Arthur helped you with everything, though at first confused by some of the choices.

Over the next few weeks, you spent some nights showing him your favorite Halloween movies, from the scary to the cheesy. He’d grown accustomed to movies now, having gone through some of your DVD collection, although it didn’t stop him from jumping or flinching during a jumpscare, his hand always flying to his hip in an automatic reaction to grab a gun that no longer sat there.

It certainly took him a little bit to fully understand modern Halloween to its fullest extent. You took him to a local store to look for costumes, even though he mentioned that dressing up wasn’t his favorite thing in the world.

“Ain’t sure why you brought me, here, Y/N,” Arthur lightly grumbled as you both walked into the store. “I told ya, I ain’t a fan of dressin’ up.”

“Arthur, it’s for fun! It’s one night you get to be someone else for no reason other than to enjoy it.” You replied, coming up to a couple of animatronics in the middle of the store.

Arthur rolled his eyes, and peered up at the machines. The one directly in front of you was a creepy looking clown. “What’s the point of these fellers?”

Hiding a mischievous smile, you stepped back and said, “Step on the platform.”

Arthur gave you a look of slight confusion, yet did as he was told. Stepping forward to stand directly on the activation pad, you waited as the animatronic came to life, a loud cackle ripping through the air as its upper body leaned toward Arthur, throwing its clawed hands out.

He jumped back in surprise, expelling a small yelp as he did so, the shock on his face prominent. It soon changed to a hot glare when you howled in laughter.

After having to calm yourself down and soothing Arthur as well, you began to browse the costumes. Naturally Arthur’s interest was drawn toward the cowboy outfits, though scoffed at how tacky they were and mumbled something about glorifying the days of outlaws. His ranting made him sound like an old man, and you had to stifle your own amusement before pulling him along to look for others.

By the end of your shopping trip, you’d picked out a costume for yourself; a steampunk style outfit with a few accessories to match. After convincing Arthur, he begrudgingly bought himself a costume, or just bits and pieces. The steampunk accessories on your outfit intrigued him, and he finally bought a few accessories of his own.

The week before, you’d found out the local club would be open on the 31st for a costume party. It would take place later on in the night, after all the trick-or-treating was done. Upon learning this, your excitement grew.

Arthur was hesitant, although was soon swayed by the mention of booze. He didn’t want to have to be dressed up to get drunk, but went along with it knowing how happy it made you.

On Halloween day, you’d come home from work a little early that afternoon to prepare, breaking out your costume for the first time. It was a short dress; though somewhat frilly to keep the Victorian style to it. The back was longer, reaching down almost to your ankles whilst the front had stopped a halfway up your thighs. Burgundy, brown, and tan hues decorated the fabric. The pseudo corset was snug around your torso, and the sleeves were short and puffed. You’d completely the look with cute fishnet stockings and knee-high brown leather boots. A tiny tophat sat on your head, and velvet fingerless gloves adorned your hands.

As you were admiring yourself in the mirror, Arthur stepped up behind you. His eyes swept up and down your figure, and a small smile twitched at the corner of his mouth. “You look like you’re from my time.”

Giggling lightly, you turned to face him. “That is the point.”

He was wearing his outfit, the original outfit that he’d arrived with. In his hands were a faux leather long coat and a pair of goggles, the chosen accessories to compliment his look. He fumbled with them awkwardly.

“You gonna put those on?” you asked.

“Eh…don’t wanna look stupid.” He murmured sheepishly.

Giving him a soft smile, you stretched up and kissed his cheek. “You’ll be fine.” You assured him sweetly, taking the goggles in one hand, and removed his hat with the other. Carefully fitting the goggles to sit snugly on, you replaced his hat, and then gestured for him to put on the coat.

He did so, slowly, watching himself in the mirror. From his expression he didn’t seem convinced, eyeing himself with scrutiny.

“Handsome,” you cooed, placing your hands on his shoulders to kiss his cheek again. “These look great on you.”

He hummed in response, meeting your gaze in the mirror. “You still look better, I think.”

“We both look good,” you corrected, “Especially for when we go to that party later.”

He made a low noise in his throat, though didn’t respond outwardly. Entwining your fingers with his, you tugged him out of the bedroom. “Come on, the first few should be arriving soon.”

---

“Trick or treat!”

A gaggle of elementary schoolers gathered at your front door, all dressed as superheroes, holding up their bags expectantly and sporting toothy grins.

“Oh my! What adorable little heroes!” you giggled as you passed each one some candy. “Go on and save the neighborhood!”

With a simultaneous “thank you!” from them, they hurried away with their parents in tow. They were only the first group, however the street was already filling with costumed kids and adults. The next few had already made a beeline for your house.

Arthur had stepped up behind you, scanning the street with curiosity. “Sure are a lot of ‘em.” He murmured.

You nodded silently, turning your attention back to the new group that approached your doorstep. It was a singular parent with one kid this time, amusingly dressed as a horse. Their little boy was also dressed in a cowboy outfit. His eyes went directly to Arthur, widening in glee.

“Mister, your costume looks cool!” he exclaimed, pointing to Arthur.

You glanced Arthur, who blinked in surprise. His lips parted, though it took him a few seconds to finally say, “Thank you, kid. Yours is, uh, cool too.”

A smile stretched across your lips as you handed out some candy. “Go round ‘em up, cowboy!”

“Sure will! Yeehaw!” he shouted out, turning to gallop across the lawn. The parent followed close behind, telling him to slow down a little.

You chuckled at this, and turned to look at Arthur again. The smile he had on his face was genuine.

“See? Now you have a reason to enjoy being dressed up.” You pointed out.

He looked over at you, emitting a small chuckle of his own. “I ‘spose it ain’t so bad.”

As time passed and more children came for candy, Arthur seemed to become more comfortable. He had received some more compliments on his outfit, which heightened his mood even more.

After a while, you let him take over candy duty so you could take a short break. Upon returning from the kitchen with a drink, you found him having a conversation with a small group of teenagers, whose costumes seemed very familiar.

Upon closer inspection, the realization hit you. They were dressed like Van der Linde gang members.

“I think Charles is the coolest!” one spoke up, who was indeed dressed like Charles.

“Nah, Sadie is!” another called out. “She can really kick some tail!”

“But Dutch rules the whole gang, which makes him the most badass!”

Amongst the friendly bickering, you kept watch as Arthur laughed at their antics.

“Hey, I think I’M the most badass, since I’m obviously the main character!” one exclaimed, stepping forward to reveal himself as Arthur in his default outfit.

“Hey, settle down now,” Arthur spoke over them all, causing them to quiet down and turn to look at him. “I think you’re all badass!”

“I agree,” you announced, stepping up beside him to take full view of the mini gang. “Each and every one of you!”

“Yeah, but whose the most badass?” the Dutch one chimed in. “Someone’s gotta hold that title!”

Arthur laughed in response. “Everyone’s badass in their own way, cause y’all got your own skills.”

The group seemed to contemplate his words for a moment, and then responded in agreement. Arthur then gave them their candy, and they happily went on their way, chattering amongst themselves about their respective characters.

That wasn’t the first time you’d seen people dress up as characters from the game, although it must have been a little strange for Arthur. You turned your attention to him, noting the slight look of longing on his face as they headed further down the street.

“Arthur?”

He broke his gaze to look at you. “Hm?”

“You alright?” you asked softly.

He sighed heavily and nodded. “Seein’ them dressed like that, makes me miss the gang.”

Of course, you wouldn’t have guessed any different. You had to give him credit for interacting with them the way he did. “Must’ve been weird for you to see, huh?”

“A bit,” he gave a small shrug. “Surprised anyone would wanna dress up as me.”

“You’d be surprised,” you responded with a light tone, trying to keep it from turning negative. “That kid thought you were badass. I’d say that’s a pretty huge compliment.”

He snorted in response. “I guess.”

Another hour had passed before the street was mostly empty. Arthur had resumed candy duty, thoroughly enjoying every interaction with the kids that appeared. Knowing he was once a father, it probably brought him joy to do as such. You’d never seen him interact with any other children besides Jack in the game, but he was certainly good at it.

When the last of the candy had been handed out, and Arthur closed the door. He placed the now empty bowl down and took a seat on the couch. As you joined him, you glanced at the time to find it was 8 pm. Two hours had passed by so quickly, and you had another hour to kill before the party.

“So, what did you think?” you asked him.

“Of all that?” he gestured toward your door. “It’s interestin’ seein’ all them costumes. Kids were pretty cute too.”

“Aren’t they though?” you agreed with a giggle. “Sometimes I wish I had a kid just so I can dress them up and go trick-or-treating again.” You joked.

Arthur’s shoulders shuddered with a laugh of his own, smiling at your response. “That would be kinda fun.” He said thoughtfully.

“Loads of fun,” you continued. “I’d totally be that parent who still dresses up.”

His laugh deepened. “Ain’t surprised from the way you’ve been actin’ all month.”

You shrugged with shameless smile. “It’s my favorite holiday, naturally. Even if I have a kid one day, that’s not gonna stop.”

“I believe it,” Arthur’s respond, his voice trembling with amusement. “That’ll be a sight to see.”

--

I decided not to add the party in simply because I’d already covered him in the club setting, so that wasn’t necessary. The ending though is a hint to something that was brought up a few months back, so what’as Arthur starting to think? ;)