#kid!zigzag

[thebluestbluewords]

Dis-like-Dysentery

I have a lot of very specific headcanons about Auradon Prep, and one of them is the fact that Jay is both a Smart Guy, and also chronically incapable of turning in assignments on time. For. Reasons.

this might be about one of those reasons.

+

Carlos looks up from his plate as Jay wanders over. “Dude, where were you? We started eating without you.” 

“Talking to a teacher. I submitted an assignment wrong, or something.” 

Carlos nods. He’s got a fork dangling from one hand, and there’s a leaf stuck in his hair. Sunlit from behind, Jay’s pretty sure that he’s the prettiest boy on this side of the barrier. “Oh, man. Was it Demorra? She’s super strict about the rules, especially for the online stuff. I could’ve helped you figure it out bro, you don’t have to get through her bureaucratic shit on your own.” 

Jay sets his tray down on the opposite side of the table. “Nah. It was Williams.” 

Carlos frowns. “The international lit teacher? Really?” 

They’ve been reading through Jay’s lit assignments together. Auradon expects them to type up all of their homework, so he’s been getting by with the hacked dictation program on his laptop and locking himself in the bathroom to read his essays out loud into the program with the minimum of background noise. 

There’s a peer writing tutor who does proofreading two nights a week for free, but Jay’s not gonna take his shitty essays in to her when he’s pretty sure he’ll just get laughed right back out of the student study room for the giant default font Carlos set on his computer. 

It doesn’t exactly make reading his own assignments easier, but it doesn’t make it worse either, so they’re calling it functional for now. Auradon Prep is all about “helping students embrace their unique academic talents”, so Carlos and Evie are both being pulled for more advanced classes, which is great for them, and terrible for Jay’s essays because it’s seriously starting to cut into their free time. 

That, and the trouble they’ve been getting up to after hours. 

The assistant gym teacher still hasn’t figured out who to blame for French braiding all the climbing ropes together. 

“She couldn’t read my handwriting.” 

“Fuck.” 

That’s about the shape of it. Handwritten assignments are few and far between, but Jay can’t bullshit his way through all of them. “Haha, yeah.” 

Carlos thunks his head down onto the table. “Ugh. Fuck. I can make you a handwriting font on the computer, but that’ll make in-class assignments worse if you can’t keep it up.” 

“Yup.” 

He sits up. There’s a dent on his forehead from pressing it into the table. “Eat.” 

“Not hungry,” Jay says as cheerfully as he can manage. It’s not gonna fool Carlos, but he’s not gonna show weakness in front of the royal rabble. “Anyway, we’re not going to the honor board. She’s willing to settle it with some sorta evaluation. Have you heard of dyslexia before?” 

Carlos blinks. “Dyslexia? No. I mean. It’s gotta be dis from like, disinterested, disintegrating, some sort of anti? Or else it’s dys from like, dysentery. Some sort of illness, maybe. Lex has gotta be from lexicon, lexicography. Something to do with either anti-words or a words illness? Does she think you’re sick of words?” 

Jay shrugs. “She said it’s why I’m bad at reading. Wants me to do an assessment so she can know what’s going on.” 

Carlos already has his phone out. He’s typing with one hand, the other one curled around his plate in a defensive hunch that’s almost casual. “Huh. How’s that going for her so far?” 

Jay snorts. “Fab. Nah, she didn’t do it yet. It’s a whole special test that she’s gotta send me down to the psych for.” 

“Can you reject it?” 

“If I wanna meet with the honor board and explain why I apparently have great handwriting, but only when they can’t see me do the assignments.” 

“Fuck.” 

“Yeah. At least she was cool about it.” 

Carlos groans. “Your handwriting sucks, dude. You’re not sick of writing, you’re just— your handwriting sucks.” 

“Yeah, and my fucking reading comprehension. I—“ Jay cuts himself off abruptly as the shadow of more people falls across their lunch table. “Hey, guys.” 

Mal sets her lunch tray down on Jay’s left side, leaving Ben the spot on his right. Evie’s not eating with them today. They have other friends in theory, but between Doug’s science club buddies and Carlos’s general disinterest in socializing with other humans, they didn’t bother picking a table large enough for anyone else.  

“Sorry,” Ben apologizes, even as he’s nudging his shoulder against Jay’s. It’s nice not being the only tall one sometimes. “I couldn’t help overhearing.” 

Jay leans back into the contact. “We were talking out loud, dude. It happens. You got any hot tips for the stupid assessment I’ve gotta do later?” 

“Have you tried being better?” Mal suggests. “I find that cheating works great. I could find you a spell to let one of us borrow your hands for a few hours, and so long as you can tell us what you want to write, we can control the muscles and get better handwriting than your usual chicken scratch special.” 

“Hey.”

“Would that work if you can’t see the paper?” Ben asks curiously. 

Mal frowns. “No. Not unless I modify the spell to possess your eyes too.” 

Jay represses a shudder. “Thanks, but no thanks, M. I like my eyes in one piece.” 

Carlos is scrolling rapidly on his phone, hanging half-over the table in an attempt to get closer to the three of them. “Dude, dyslexia is a brain thing that affects how you process visual input of words— aw, shit.” 

Bad. That’s the bad-news tone. Jay’s heart drops traitorously into his stomach, which suddenly isn’t feeling the tater tots on his lunch tray. “What?” 

Carlos shakes his head. “Nothing too bad. Just, I think Williams is right. You’ve said you’re shit at reading fast cause the words all look the same, right? Like, you can’t scan to identify them, you’ve gotta sound each one out.” 

Jay smashes a tater tot with the side of his fork. The destruction doesn’t make his gut feel any better. It’s not that he’s mad, it’s just— he doesn’t want to do this. Analyzing his brain sucks. He did the whole week of required therapy that the student disciplinary council required after the stuff with Mal’s mom, and he’s so fucking done with Auradon grown-ups pretending to understand why his head’s fucked up. “Yeah, so?” 

Carlos waves the phone at him. “So that’s what this is. You’ve got a brain disorder.” 

“We can fix it, right?” 

He wiggles a hand back and forth. “Ehh. Kinda. There’s techniques to make it easier, but it’s sorta like— your brain is wired for AC power input, and words are DC. It’s a misalignment. We can make an adaptor, but we can’t rip out your brain wiring.” 

“I could,” Mal offers. “I love doing illegal magic.”

[wherevenusholdssomeofficespace]

Something that's been sort of bothering me is why exactly does HIromi look so annoyed here.

It just seems out of character. Especially since otherwise in that scene she was her cheerful friendly self and her expression changed after Joe stopped looking at her.

Was there a miscommunication to the animators. I mean it really wouldn't surprise me. But still changing expressions seems pretty deliberate.

So even she has her limits to others stupidity I guess.

Also Hiromi's hair was still purple: So either she dyed it as a kid, or its naturally purple (which Ferb's is naturally green so I suppose it's possible but her eyebrows are still black so who knows).

[zombiesama]

ksdjfsdkj??

[flamingpudding]

Little Snippets #4

Danny knew he had screwed up and that he was going to be in so much trouble as he flew hurriedly through the streets of Gotham.

"Old man is going to be so pissed...." he muttered as he zigzagged through the buildings. He had just gotten back from a side mission with Clockwork when he learned that one of their villains had gotten their hands on portal technology. Not his parents mind you, no one could read their chicken scratch besides Danny or Jazz. No but Vlad's, who was supposed to be a redeemed man but apparently some of his inventions still managed to get onto the black market.

Danny hat been in the Ghost Zone when they had that found out and the old man pinged him to get back sooner. And oh boy was Danny in for a portal mess when he got back to Gotham. He instantly went out to help the old man. Batman was out on his own and Danny had been trying to give him support when he got tangled up and ended up thrown through a portal.

Yeah, he knew his the old man would give him a good lecture, like the day he had gotten taken under the other mans wing. So now after Danny finally made his way back to Gotham he flew through the streets in search of the old man, it looked like the portal problem had resolved while he was trying to find his way back but still Danny had a weird feeling about Gotham now.

"OLD MAN!" He yelled as he spied Batman on top of a building. Grinning brightly he came to an stop directly in front of the other waving happily. "Sorry it took so long but I am back and in one piece! No injuries! See!"

Danny grinned brightly despite not getting an instant answer or lecture back. Though he paused when he noticed the kid in colourful clothing and others like one with a red face covering helmet, one themed in blue and one in black and red. "Did you get help from others? And I thought you didn't like kid playing hero?"

He tilted his head confused as he studied Batman before his eyes widened. "Hey, since when is your insignia not red...?"

It was in that moment that Danny realized he messed up big time somehow and slipped up as he uttered his next words. "You're not old man Thomas...?"

[shxrkk]

everyone forgets that Peter’s a photographer because it’s rarely mentioned in the movies but I firmly believe he takes a ton of photography classes and the subjects in his photos are always his friends and family

Tony buys him the film because it’s expensive as all hell and the kid runs through it like there’s no tomorrow

May gives him Ben’s old photo album that he started and never seemed to finish. It’s handmade and water damaged and scuffed, but its his

MJ leaves small doodles on the polaroids left laying out during lunch when Peter’s not looking, stars and zigzags along the corners. One time, her and Ned got through an entire tic-tac-toe game before Peter noticed

Ned always poses for Peter walking home or to school, running back to him with a “Let me see it! Do I look cool? I think I look totally cool.” and Peter smiles with a simple “The coolest, dude.”

[gyunotes]

Closet Affair - Choi Soobin x F!Reader

You came to support your sister as maid of honor—handle the prep, give a sweet speech, maybe share a dance with the best man. Babysitting with him? Definitely not part of the plan.

cw : strangers to lovers, making out, sex in closet and it wasn’t on the seating chart, but damn was it worth it.

You were here to support your sister as her maid of honor. You pictured yourself helping with last-minute wedding prep, giving heartfelt speeches, and maybe even stealing a dance or two. Babysitting was definitely not on the agenda.

But here you were, stuck in the living room, keeping an eye on your wild little cousin, the ring bearer, while everyone else was out celebrating her last night as a single woman.

You glanced around, heart pounding a little. You weren’t great with kids. Honestly, you found them exhausting and unpredictable. This one was already testing every ounce of your patience, darting between chairs and snatching cupcakes off the table like a tiny hurricane.

Your fingers twisted nervously around the hem of your dress. You were supposed to be calm and supportive—maid of honor material. Instead, you were on edge, trying not to lose it while the kid zoomed around like he owned the place.

A sudden shift in the room made you jump. You hadn’t even noticed someone else had come in. “Hey,” said a calm voice beside you. You turned, startled, to see a tall guy leaning casually against the doorway, hands in his pockets and a small, amused smile playing on his lips.

You blinked, trying to collect yourself. “Hey. Uh… wait, who are you? And why are you here?”

“I’m Soobin,” he said quietly, as if that was supposed to make everything less chaotic. He nodded toward the tiny tornado tearing through the room. “Looks like we are on babysitting duty, we’ve got our hands full.”

“I’m really not great at this,” you admitted.

The kid zoomed past again, nearly knocking over a vase, and your nerves tightened.

“Okay,” you said, taking a deep breath. “Let’s do this.” 

The kid wasn’t making it easy. Every time you thought you had him cornered, he slipped between your legs or darted behind the couch, giggling like this was all a game.

“So,” Soobin said, crouching down, “what’s his weakness? Candy? Toys?”

You shook your head, breath catching as the kid zigzagged past again. “I don’t know what if he gets extra screen time, maybe he’ll calm down.”

Soobin grinned. “Perfect. Let’s bribe him.”

You both knelt, and Soobin called out, “Hey, kid, want to watch one more cartoon before bed?”

The kid’s eyes lit up. “Yeah!”

You exchanged a relieved smile as Soobin flicked the TV on and settled the kid between you on the couch. The little guy’s energy slowly drained away, his heavy eyelids drooping as the cartoon played softly.

Within minutes, his head lolled onto Soobin’s shoulder, and he was fast asleep.

Soobin looked over at you, quiet but kind. “I’ll take him to bed.”

Before you could protest, he gently scooped the kid into his arms, careful not to wake him. You watched as Soobin carried the sleeping boy down the hallway, soft footsteps barely audible on the carpet.

You stood there for a moment, heart a little lighter than before, realizing that babysitting with Soobin might not be so bad after all.

You were still standing by the couch when Soobin reappeared, his footsteps soft, his presence even softer. He gave you a little smile as he padded back into the room, rubbing a hand at the back of his neck.

“He’s out cold,” he said, voice low. “Didn’t even stir.” You smiled, easing back onto the couch. “You’ve got a touch, apparently.” He shrugged with a humble grin, then glanced toward the kitchen. “Wine?” You hesitated, then nodded. “Yeah. Why not?”

He disappeared for a moment, returning with two glasses and a half-full bottle of red. He handed you a glass, their fingers brushing, brief and electric. Neither of you mentioned it. The TV played on, low and forgotten, as you sat side by side, sipping slowly. The warmth of the wine settled in your chest, and the quiet between you shifted—no longer awkward, but charged.

Soobin looked at you over the rim of his glass, a small smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “You’re not so bad at this babysitting thing either.” You chuckled. “Thanks, I think.”

There was a pause. Not empty. Full. His gaze lingered, darker now. You met it, not quite ready to look away. “Hey,” he said quietly, voice lower than before. “You’ve got something on your lip.” Your brows furrowed, but before you could wipe it, he leaned in—just enough. His thumb brushed the corner of your mouth.

And he didn’t move away. Neither did you. The air between you tightened like a string pulled taut, and when he leaned in that last inch, you didn’t stop him. His lips found yours, warm and hesitant at first, then deeper, firmer. You melted into him, tasting the wine on his mouth, your fingers curling into the fabric of his sleeve.

But then—

The sound of the front door opening shattered everything. Laughter. Voices. You and Soobin sprang apart like you’d been electrocuted. His hair was a little messy. Your breath was unsteady. You both sat stiffly, trying to look as casual as two people who definitely weren’t just making out in the living room.

Footsteps approached.

“I’ll, um…” You stood quickly, setting your glass down with more force than necessary. “I’ll see you tomorrow.” He looked up at you, still slightly breathless, eyes searching yours. You gave him a quick, almost sheepish smile before turning and heading toward the hallway. Your footsteps were fast, your heartbeat faster. The soft click of your bedroom door was the only sound you allowed to linger. 

The morning of the wedding was a blur of curling irons, zippers, and soft panic. You kept your hands busy, tying ribbons, fixing veils, touching up your sister’s makeup. Doing anything to avoid thinking about last night.

But your thoughts betrayed you every time. The press of Soobin’s mouth. The way he’d looked at you right before. The way he’d looked after. And the fact that you had fled the room like your own heart was something to be embarrassed about.

Now, standing near the altar in your dress with the bouquet clutched tighter than necessary, you tried not to scan the guests for him. Tried and failed. Soobin wasn’t hard to spot.

Tall, stupidly handsome, perfectly disheveled in his groomsman suit. He was talking to the groom, smiling casually like he hadn’t completely scrambled your brain the night before. Like he hadn’t kissed you with enough heat to melt the air between you.

And when his eyes finally found yours, it was instant. That jolt again. He gave you the smallest smile, subtle but just for you. You looked away quickly, cheeks burning, heart stuttering under your ribs.

Throughout the ceremony, your eyes kept brushing his. During the speeches, the toast, the dinner...you could feel him across the room like gravity. And he wasn’t even trying to hide it.

You tried to focus on the celebration, on your sister glowing as she danced with her new husband, but every glance from Soobin made it harder to pretend nothing happened.

Later, after the first dances, while guests were laughing and drinks were flowing, you were grabbing a fresh drink from the bar when his voice cut through behind you, smooth and far too close.

“You ran off pretty fast last night.”

You turned to face him, your breath catching. “I—yeah. It was… late.” His eyes twinkled. “Is that what we’re going with?” You gave a small, nervous laugh, fiddling with the rim of your glass. “I didn’t know what to say.”

“I could tell,” he said, not unkindly. “But… just so you know—I don’t regret it.” That silenced you. Not because you didn’t believe him, but because you didn’t know how to say that you didn’t either.

Then his voice dropped, a little lower, a little rougher. “Want to get some air?”

Your heart skipped. “Air,” you echoed, dumbly. “Yeah.” he said, a smirk tugging at his lips. You hesitated, then nodded, pulse already racing. Soobin reached for your hand, brushing his fingers lightly against yours in a way that made your whole body aware of the contact. It wasn’t full-on bold. But it was enough to make your breath stutter again.

He didn’t take you outside, though. He led you quietly down one of the side hallways of the venue, then paused in front of a supply closet. You raised your brows.

“Seriously?”

Soobin grinned. “Unless you know a better hiding spot in mind.”

He opened the door, peeked inside, then gestured. You stepped in, heart pounding, and he followed, shutting the door behind you. It was quiet. Dim. Your back brushed against a shelf full of extra linens. You were pretty sure there was a broom poking your calf.

“This is ridiculous,” you whispered, half laughing, half mortified.

He leaned against the door with a crooked smile. “You’re cute when you’re nervous.”

“I’m not nervous,” you lied, voice shaky. Soobin stepped closer, just close enough to make your breath hitch. “Good. Because I kind of want to kiss you again.”

You swallowed hard. “In a closet?”

“So… is that a no?” Your fingers curled at your sides. “no.”

His hand rose slowly to cup your cheek, the pad of his thumb brushing gently over your bottom lip. His gaze lingered there, full of something raw and reverent.

“You’re so damn beautiful,” he whispered, like it was a secret meant only for the quiet between your heartbeats.

His other hand found your waist, drawing you to him until your bodies touched. It was warm, alive, trembling with anticipation. He moved in gradually, his breath ghosting over your lips. You tilted your face up to meet him, offering the smallest nod of permission, your pulse thundering like a war drum.

His mouth found yours.....soft at first, exploring, savoring. A kiss that tasted of wonder and need. But soon, it deepened, turning desperate, hungry. He kissed you like he was drowning and you were his only breath.

“God, I need you,” he rasped, pulling away just enough to speak, his forehead resting against yours. “Last night… the way you tasted, the way you moved beneath me, I've been thinking about it nonstop. It's driving me insane.”

His hands slid down to cup the curve of your ass, lifting you slightly as he pressed you gently back against the shelving. The closet was cramped, shadowed and secret, but you hardly noticed. All you could feel was him.

“Soobin…” you gasped, your head falling back as his lips trailed down your neck, warm and open, his teeth grazing your pulse. “We shouldn’t… not here…”

“Shhh,” he murmured into your skin. “Let me take care of you. No one’s going to find us. Just you and me, sweetheart.”

His fingers gathered the hem of your dress, sliding it up with reverence, exposing your thighs to the cool air. His touch was firm, purposeful, yet gentle as he parted your legs and stepped between them, cradling your body as if it belonged to him.

You whimpered, torn between reason and need, but when his mouth found yours again, every hesitation unraveled. He kissed you like he meant it, like you were his salvation.

He guided your hand down to the front of his pants, letting you feel him twitching beneath your touch. “Feel that?” he groaned. “That’s all for you. I’m aching for you, baby.”

He rocked his hips against your center, the friction enough to make your breath catch and your knees weak. You clung to him, the hunger in your body coiling tight like a spring, ready to snap.

“Please…” you breathed. Whether it was a plea for more or for restraint, you couldn’t say.

But Soobin heard what you truly meant.

He freed himself with a few hurried motions, his cock thick, flushed, and glistening at the tip. You gasped at the sight—at the weight of what was coming.

Still holding your gaze, he shifted your panties aside with one hand and rubbed the head of his cock through your wet folds, teasing, testing.

Then, with a single, aching thrust, he filled you completely.

“Soobin—” Your cry was swallowed by his kiss as he buried himself to the hilt, stretching you open, claiming you.

Without breaking the kiss, he slid his hands down the curve of your thighs and bent slightly. “Hold on to me,” he whispered, voice low and rough.

You barely had time to react before he lifted you effortlessly, his strong arms hooking beneath your thighs. A gasp escaped your lips as your body rose, and your legs instinctively wrapped around his hips, locking behind him.

“Fuck,” he groaned, forehead pressed against yours. “You feel unreal. So warm. So tight. So perfect.”

His hips began to move, slow at first, savoring every inch. You held onto him with everything you had, each thrust sending a fresh wave of pleasure through your trembling body. His hands gripped your thighs, grounding you, as the rhythm between you grew faster, more desperate.

Every movement was worship. Every breath was shared.

“So good,” he panted, mouth hot against your jaw. “I can’t… I’m not going to last. I need to feel you cum for me. Need to fill you up.”

His words made you moan, your own release spiraling closer, tighter.

“Yes—yes—don’t stop—” you begged, your voice breaking as your body surged forward into ecstasy. You shattered around him, your walls clenching, pulling him deeper as pleasure bloomed from the center of your soul.

Soobin cried out your name, and with one final thrust, he came hard, burying himself in you as he spilled deep inside—pulse after pulse of heat filling you. His entire body trembled with the force of it, arms locking tight around you.

The world stilled. You held him. He held you. Only your breaths remained—shaky, tangled, real. He pressed soft, reverent kisses to your cheeks, your lips, your hair. “That… that wasn’t just sex,” he whispered, voice hoarse and true. 

You kissed him back, slow and lingering, your body still trembling from the aftermath. When your lips finally parted, he rested his forehead against yours and closed his eyes.

“Stay with me tonight,” he murmured. “Don’t go. I need you next to me.”

And the way he said it...the vulnerability in it made your heart ache in the best way.

Because you realized…You needed him too.

© 2025 gyunotes

[goaskangel]

dad's bestfriend!nanami x reader

a/n...had really good ideas 4 this and it kinda WORKED OUT??? i fu want more lmk!! im a sucker for older dudes (and ONLy them) nanami will save us all EEK. also i see hiromi as y/n's father, that's what i had in mind writing this!!! THIS HAS SLIGHT CORRUPTION STUFF, LIL GUILT STUFF, LOTS OF KISSIINGGG

you usually paid no mind to the people your father brought over. mostly colleagues or just a few friends to drink and converse with in your shared apartment. one friend he’d seem to bring over a lot had caught your eye. as if his ever-changing ties and snug khakis weren’t enough to make you grin, his mannerism was much too attractive. greeting you respectfully, listening and chuckling to your rare comments and jokes to their discussion over drinks in the kitchen. getting comfortable to just speak to you while your dad’s out or busy with something, always listening with intent. 

it’s so sexy, you think, your hands up to your face as you lay to your side in bed. dreaming conscious thoughts of what his big hands would feel like on you, or the same breath he smokes out against your neck. your guilt no longer dragging you down after all this time. 

once, you sit close to him, smiling and trying to make your staring of his ringless finger unnoticeable. he wonders, aloud, how don’t you have a boyfriend? you shrug, “jus’ not very interested.” you smile when he chuckles, most likely at your thought process. part of you hopes he doesn’t ask what you're looking for because you’d go straight to overworked suited-men. skip over the blonde and big traits just to seem more vague. of course you were interested, you were interested the moment he mentioned he had no family. no wife, no kids. just focused on his work and drinks, a few cigars and baked goods. the absence of your father to run a quick errand wasn’t helping, your eyes zigzagged down his undone tie and exposed blue button-up, his blazer down beside him. you’d thought about taking the garment or increasing the loft’s heater just to see him get all worked up and hot but being this close to him gave you the same thrill. the topic of marriage came up.

“you shouldn’t wait too long, i waited too long.” he says with sincerity. 

“hehe. with all truth, mister, i think you’re doing it on purpose. you are handsome.”

he sits up at the title, a confused smile at his face, “yeah? i could say the same thing about you, pretty.”

god, if you were any worse, the first time he’d use that petname you would’ve pounced on him sooner. “dad says guys my age are after one thing and i agree. you wouldn’t disagree with my dad, would you?” your head tilts and waits for a response to your bratty remark. “well, i suppose your father knows a thing or two.” he nods, crossing his arms. your eyes trail again, watching the toned muscle flex casually against his rolled sleeve. you swallow the pool of spit in your mouth. 

“he’s strict, though. haven’t you noticed?” you get up from your seat and walk to pour yourself another glass of water, “doesn’t ever let me have anybody over.” 

“uh-huh.” his brown eyes stare at you intently to understand your point. 

“it gets lonely, mister.” instead of sitting back down, you stand right in front of him. placing your glass on the glass table. his arms now rest out on the table as he traces delicate circles on the rim of his half empty cup of whiskey. “i obviously can’t tell my dad that so i’m telling you and i just know you’d understand.” your hand rests atop his and slowly curls under his big palm.

he clears his throat of the sudden nervousness, “well, yes. i know that feeling all too well.” you hum a response when he turns his body to face you better. you mumble gently, “my dad won’t be home.” your hand squeezes him tighter. you notice how his brows furrow just the slightest bit as he lowers his head down, letting out a small sigh. but he doesn’t oppose it. doesn’t move when you lead his hand down to your hip, the tips of his fingers riding up your shirt. so pliable, his other resting hand now being guided up, up, up your shirt. his warm palm against your much softer skin. “won’t tell anyone, nanami.” 

his breathing is shaky and his eyes seem to have gotten heavier, but he scoots almost off the seat, to get closer. his vision glued onto the bump of where his hand is underneath your shirt, beneath the wire of your bra. 

“i’ll let you do anything you want to me.” fucking hell, you made this so fucking hard. 

“you’re damn irresistible.” he slurs through his teeth, swearing to himself that his mouth dried when you gripped his hand to squeeze the fat beneath your breasts. you feel dizzy, so good that he’s not resisting, that he can’t resist. he kneads and gropes the side of your hips and thighs, getting closer to your ass. impatiently, he stands and manhandles you closer to his bigger frame. you hear how his breathing’s stabilized but heavier, his expensive cologne finally hitting you when you lean up against his neck. he damn near groans when he gets his hands on you properly. dragging his hands on your back, pushing your body right against his much warmer one. your knees grow weak, if his grasp was any looser, you could’ve collapsed right on him. you take your arms and wrap them firmly against his broad shoulders and thick neck, moaning quietly against the veins under his ear. he feels his khakis getting tighter with every breath you take. a smile grows against your cheeks when you feel the slight stubble at his jaw, you kiss at it. 

still moaning between kitten licks against his mature skin, he turns to press his lips to yours. quick little pecks between breaths, he savors each one and quickly returns for more. the sour taste of his bitter whiskey intoxicating you from his much sweeter mouth.

“been..wanting..this..nana–mi..!” you can’t contain your grown obsession to which he shushes you. nodding slowly against your mouth while he keeps your head in place. when you pull away, you take his hands and lead him into your open bedroom. the idea of your father coming home slowly fading the closer you got what you wanted. you got so eager when he sat you on the edge of your bed, standing between your hanging legs. your hands wanting to hold onto his belt, to slowly unbuckle it but he caught them beforehand, kissing and sucking on your soft wrists and forearms. his lips find their way to your neck and ear where he whispers. 

“it's wrong, i know. so, so wrong, but my god…” he holds onto your neck and carefully grinds himself into your clothed cunt, making you arch your back and buck your hips into him, whining. you could cry from all the teasing he’s doing. “shouldn’t be doing this, sweetheart…dad can’t know, okay?” he keeps his now firm bulge against you. you moan another cry and kiss him again a bunch, nodding, rubbing tongues and messing up the gel in his blonde hair. the very open door reveals the sound of clinking keys and chains, doors opening and closing. too dizzy and much too dazed to even frown, you just stare into his soft brown eyes. they get farther away as he gently lets you go, kissing your temple for good measure before heading to the bathroom, leaving you with shaking legs. hopefully his plans of staying over stays the case.

masterlist

[bones4thecats]

↳ Love in the Shadows of Parenthood.

A Twisted Wonderland × Youth-Parent! Reader.

Chapters: Heartslabyul (here). Savanaclaw. Octavinelle. Scarabia. Pomefiore. Ignihyde. Diasomnia.

Characters Included: Riddle Rosehearts, Trey Clover, Cater Diamond, Deuce Spade, and Ace Trappola.

Prompt: "What of their S/O had a child before being with them?"

Possible trigger warning: Teenage pregnancy (all), Reader's ex leaving them to be a single mom (Riddle, Trey, Ace), and parental abandonment (Ace).

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❤️ When you first arrived in Twisted Wonderland, Riddle thought that the child you had by your side was your younger sibling. Oh, how shocked he was when you told him it was your son, Charles. ❤️ He asked you many questions; who the father was, how young you were when you had him, etc.

❤️ Riddle was surprised that you had him only two years prior; you would've been fifteen years old! But, when he heard about how your ex left you after finding out, he was beyond upset. His face began turning red, but calmed down when he heard your son giggling at his face. ❤️ When you guys finally got into a relationship, he pledged to always be there for you and your son. He knew his mother wouldn't approve of your son, and therefore relationship, but Riddle could care less at that point. ❤️ He takes care of Charles when you need to study or some time to rest. As he has no younger siblings of his own, and was never really around other kids, he does get some help from Trey.

Riddle smiled softly, lifting the spoon and making a plane noise as he moved the utensil in a zigzag motion. Charles, giggling with his eyes sparkling as they followed the food, opened his mouth and swallowed the yogurt given to him.

You walked in the kitchen, seeing your son in his homemade-high chair, and chuckled quietly. Jack, who volunteered to go with you to grab stuff for your son, stood behind you and chuckled just like you.

"He really does love Charles, doesn't he?" He asked.

You nodded in reply. Turning around to look into Jack's eyes, you asked if he could bring your stuff for Charles to your room. He nodded and took the two sacks from your hands and walked down the halls towards the room Riddle had given you. After all, he knows it's not smart to have a child and young mother in a run-down building. Who knows what could happen.

Looking back into the kitchen, you take a breath and walk inside. Stopping behind your son, you picked him up. He squealed and laughed as you nuzzled your nose into his belly and blew raspberries into the plump skin.

"How's my little prince?" You asked, baby talking the young boy and kissing his face all over.

"He's been perfect. He hasn't thrown a fit once. Though, he did throw a block at Ace."

"Deserved?"

"I suppose."

Chuckling, you tucked Charles on one of your arms and wrapped the other arm underneath Riddle's arms and held him close. Riddle did the same to you and kissed the side of your head.

This feels right. He thought. This is right.

🧁 Trey was one of the most welcoming when he saw the young child behind your leg. He walked up to you both and held out his hand, shaking yours and hers before asking for your names. 🧁 He absolutely adores your daughter, Carroll. He loves to bake things with her help. As you're both the same age, he was shocked to hear you had Carroll so young, as she was four and you were eighteen. 🧁 The one thing they baked the most together was, funnily enough, the first thing he learned to baked with his own parents; brownies. Specifically, Grasshopper brownies and S'mores brownies. 🧁 Everyone in Heartslabyul, and throughout the school, believed you guys were dating before you actually started a relationship. So, when you actually told the others, they normally replied with, "Wait... you guys weren't dating before?" 🧁 Trey finds it funny himself, you just flush and look away. 🧁 When Trey asked you about your pregnancy with Carroll, you pushed him back, saying it was normal and nothing was wrong. Trey did not think it was the truth, but understood you probably just didn't want to talk about it. So, he put it to the side for another time.

You laid in bed alongside Trey, his arms around your waist as he spooned you from behind. Carroll was with Yuu for the night, as she wanted to spend some time with her 'Uncle Yuu'.

Trey rubbed the back of your hand and kissed the side of your head, before asking if he could ask you a possibly sensitive question. You hummed and nodded, wondering what he wanted to ask that was sensitive.

"What was it like with Carroll? You've shown me the photos of Carroll throughout the years, but I've never seen her father in them. Where is he?"

Your eyes looked down and your body curled into itself and you shakily sighed. "He... left. I was pregnant at fourteen, we didn't plan it to happen. So, when I told him... he flipped out and left. Never saw him again."

Trey's face became filled with a mixture of anger, disappointment, and sorrow. He knew how important it was to have a father in your life. He doesn't know what he would've been like without his own father, he taught him so much.

"That's horrible." He replied.

"Yeah, but it was honestly a better option... he wasn't the best guy.

"Honestly..." You dragged off. "I'd rather you be there for her than him."

The warm mustard eyes you loved widened in surprise. You wanted him to help raise Carroll? He smiled calmly and tilted your head so you could look into one another's eyes. Once he caught your sight, he kissed your nose.

"Sweet Sevens, I love you." He said.

"I love you too, Trey."

💎 Cater adored your daughter so much! He found her to be so cute! And the way that you stood up to the role of being the main parent of your family just amazed him. 💎 While he normally does take photos of anything he wants without any issue, Cater does understand that you don't appreciate having your child placed everywhere all at once. This is because of your parents, you told him. 💎 So, anytime he wants to take a photo, he asks if he is allowed to post it. It's rare, but sometimes you allow it. When you do, his eyes light up with sparkles. 💎 Whenever he posts Hattie on his socials, he gives her three different unique tags: #CayCay'sbb'sbb #MadameHatsalot and #HattieDiamond. 💎 It shocked you when he put down Hattie Diamond as a tag, and it shocked everyone else. While yes, Cater is seen as a fun and go-with-the-flow seeming guy, they did not expect him to be this chill. 💎 If you guys ever had a family day at Night Raven College, you best believe his father is claiming Hattie as his granddaughter and his sisters claim her as their niece.

"Cater!" Two girls scream as they run towards your boyfriend. Cater jumped, nearly falling to the ground as his sisters gripped him in a group hug.

You knew he wasn't huge on the whole 'physical touch' thing, but you understood how he wanted to keep his sisters happy. He did love them after all. They were his family. Despite the things he could, and had, said about that.

An older man walked up behind them and glanced at you, looked at his three kids and looked back at you. "You must be Cater's girlfriend, am I correct?"

You stiffen under his gaze, he was banker after all. Brains was something he must use quite often.

"Yes." You replied.

"And this must be your daughter, Hattie." He added. His eyes lit up slightly, nearly matching Professor Trein's when he first held your daughter, as he was reminded of his own children.

Hattie smiled and laughed, moving her stuffed rabbit around.

Cater's sisters began to tear up from the cuteness. "Cater, she has your little rabbit plush! I remember when we gave you that. Oh, you were such an adorable little guy."

"Still are!" His other sister chimed in.

You laughed slightly, trying to signal to Cater that you wanted to get a move on and not be in the middle of the hall talking to his, now as you agreed, slightly overbearing family.

Cater stood straight and wrapped an arm around your shoulders and smiled at his father and sisters. You knew it was a forced one, but they seemingly could not. "How about we all go to the front lawn? I'm sure it'd be better talking there than here."

"That sounds wonderful, son." Mr. Diamond replied, motioning for him to lead the way.

"I'm gonna blow a fuse if those two even think about dressing Hattie up like they did me..." You heard Cater mumble.

You smiled and kissed his cheek, a silent saying that you were there, and nothing bad was going to happen while you were around.

♠️ Deuce isn't the best with kids. This is mainly due to his past as a delinquent. But, when he does spend more time around you and your son, he gets better with handling the multiple situations his own mother went through with him. ♠️ Speaking of his mother, Deuce does call and message his mom a lot. During these conversations, he ends up talking about you and the toddler a lot. She finds it adorable. ♠️ When she sees photos of the three of you together, she tears up with pride and joy for the two of you. She would call you guys her babies, and your child her grandson, much like Cater's family. ♠️ Anytime Cater takes a photo of Lewis, Deuce likes to have them sent to him and you immediately. In fact, the background on his phone is a picture of you and Lewis laying down with one another in the middle of Heartslabyul's maze. ♠️ During the White Rabbit Fest, he entertained your son happily while you took a break to speak with his mother. She just watched with a laugh as you took pictures of the two together.

"You know, it's really nice to see Deuce helping someone out." Dylla spoke.

You nodded, opening the photos app on your phone to find the folders of pictures you had taken of Deuce and Lewis in the past few months of being together.

Dylla looked at your screen and began practically cackling when she saw a photo of her son dressed up like a dragon and playing with you, the princess, and your son, the knight.

"That's so cute!" She said, her cheeks flushing slightly as she laughed harder and harder.

"I know!"

Hearing steps behind you, you looked behind to see Epel and Grim there with Yuu. The three began laughing even harder than Dylla when they saw the many photos of Deuce playing around like the father he was.

"Deuce!" Epel yelled, catching the blue-haired man's attention. "What's with the eyeliner?"

Deuce's eyes widened and his cheeks reddened. Turning towards you with embarrassment written all over his face, you took another photo and marked it; White Rabbit Festival? More like Pink Rabbit Festival.

🪅 Ace was shocked to see a baby girl in your arms. You had twirled around the blue flames and tried to calm her down as Grim ravaged the room; a horrible first impression of Twisted Wonderland. 🪅 He was even more shocked when Riddle had assigned Trey and him in charge of Alice while you, Riddle, and Deuce were away for the Masquerade at Noble Bell College. 🪅 While away, you constantly messaged him and Trey, wondering if Alice was being to much for them and if you needed to come back. Trey chuckled and said you were just having a normal 'motherly reaction', as you were scared for Alice being away from you. Or rather, you being away from Alice for too long. 🪅 When you got back, everyone noticed how much more energy you were expunging paying attention to Alice. While some found it brave and very mature for your age, others wondered if something happened in your past with her. 🪅 Among the people wondering was Ace.

"Hey, what's going on over here?" Ace said, cocking an eyebrow and moving to sit beside you. Alice was playing with some of the animals and Lilia, who took a lot of joy watching over her.

"Just... observing." You nervously voiced.

Ace looked over and saw how Lilia played with Alice carefully yet care-freely. He knew you did that sometimes, but you had a tendency to be more careful than the other.

"It looks more like your watching them like a mama bear."

"I'm not a mama bear!" You rebutted, only for Ace to roll his eyes and wrap an arm around your shoulders.

"Seriously, you are. Why?"

Your eyes widened slightly and you looked down at your slightly broken phone. It had only had a scratch from Grim when you had to bathe him, but it still wound be considered by this world's tech as broken.

"Nothing."

"Bull. Be honest."

Sighing, you curled in on yourself slightly. Leaning into his chest, your mind flashed with memories. The man and woman that had raised you leaving. Shouting. Calling you all kinds of names.

"My parents..." Ace's eyebrows furrowed and his looked down at you, worry hidden in his eyes as he motioned for you to continue. That he wasn't going to leave you.

"They left me in the care of my aunt and uncle. I was like seven months when it happened.

"I felt like I was nothing... like I was just a burden on my mother and father's shoulders. I don't want Alice to feel the same way."

"Let me guess; her father left her?"

"Yeah, right when I told him."

"Piece of shit..."

"You can say that again." You chuckled.

"PIECE OF SHIT!" Ace screamed, kicking his feet out like a toddler. It was obvious he was trying to get you to laugh now. He was never the best with this kind of stuff.

"Shit!" Alice said back.

Lilia froze. Malleus froze. Silver and Sebek froze. Ace froze.

You glared.

"She learned that from Deuce!"

"Unless Deuce is spelled with an A-C-E than, yeah, she DID!"

For the proceeding hour, Diasomnia and the young Alice laughed and watched as 'Tom' was chased by 'Jerry'.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

A Man Called Danger 1

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

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

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You avoid drama, you avoid confrontation, and overall, you avoid men. But some men can't be denied. ~ short!late 30s reader

Characters: biker!Bucky Barnes

Note: I saw a photoshoot and lost my mind.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

You sigh and set the phone down, tilting your head back as you close your eyes. Exasperation, frustration, helplessness.

This is why you never had kids of your own. Your own teenage years were tough enough. Well, life has continued to shout that lesson in your face; things don’t always turn out how you expect. Or how you want. 

Let her make her mistakes, you tell yourself. No, no, you can be passive in your own life but you took on this responsibility. You can’t just wait and see how it turns out. Not like your mother did. She only got lucky you didn’t end up on a corner or like her. 

You take a deep breath and run your hands over your face. Your mother taught you many lessons without meaning too. Men, kids, all that domestic stuff is just a trap. You’re better off without having to figure out the mistakes of others.

That’s why you did this right? Because you want your sister to learn the same thing, to avoid the consequences of youth and short-sightedness. To escape that family curse that keeps you so cautious. 

You grab your jacket from the front door. She’s nineteen. Nineteen. An adult. You’re not her mother. No, but you won’t let it happen. Not to her. Not to that baby you spent your nights bottle-feeding as your mother spent her stipend at the bar or drove around with Robbie from down the street. 

It’s underhanded. Not what you should do. Not respectful at all but after the last time, you couldn’t let it go. You open the app on your phone. The dot that is your sister’s phone pings in the map. You zoom in and squint as you stand on the doormat. Really? 

You lock the front door and come down the front steps. The deep blue evening is starless as only the yellow street lights offer clarity. Oh, everything is clear. The apple is not falling very far. 

You drop your phone in the cup holder and turn the engine. The grumpy old Honda chugs to life and the stick cranks loudly as you put it in reverse. You don’t have much but you have the one thing you always craved; stability. You manage with what you have. 

You ease your foot off the pedal as you catch yourself speeding down the forty zone. You idle at the sign before turning onto the next street. You make a zigzag onto the main road. Your nape itches with impatience. How the hell did she get all the way out there, anyway? 

You grip the wheel and snarl at the windshield. You’re not a mother. You don’t have a maternal bone in your body. You were raised to be wary. By the time your sister came around, your mother wasn’t present enough to make much of an effort or impact. You suppose neglect can be just as lingering as resent. 

You keep one hand on the wheel as you chew your thumb. For all your attempts to avoid this fate, you find yourself where you didn’t want to be. Maybe not technically or even legally, but you’re stuck cleaning up this mess. 

You pull up to the bar at last. Take a breath. You are not an angry person. Not like your father. Yes, the surge comes from time to time but you control it. You repress it until it’s only a flicker in your stomach. 

You get out and lock your phone. You pocket your keys as you approach the door. Nearly wenty years since you’ve been in a bar, never of your own volition. You stare up at the marque. 

You were the same age as your sister then. The place was glowing and hazy. You entered to the clink of bottle and the buzz of the old juke box. Darts pounded into the bullseye and cues clacked on solids and stripes. Your mother was there hanging off a greasy man in flannel. She was too drunk to answer your question as you held her child on your hip. 

“Mom, where’s the money?” 

It fades away with the voice from your left. The man stands with arms crossed, “ma’am, you can go in. I don’t needa see ID.” 

You shake your head and make yourself enter. Your reluctance slows you along with the overwhelming wall of noise. Voices all around, music, glass meeting each other and tabletops, laughter, coughing, and snarling. The dim is lit only by the bulbs beneath the black shades, hanging from the ceiling. You squint to see through the glazed din. 

This isn’t your place. This is never what you would do for fun. Drinking, talking to strange men, spending what free time you have rotting away in this pit. 

You hear a familiar octave. Eva trills with laughter. Not that sardonic snort she gives you when you try to offer her some sense, no, that tinkling noise she uses when she wants something. It’s not a surprise, there aren’t too many reasons for a girl her age to be here. 

You find her along the bar. She sits sideways on a stool, one leg draped over the other. She’s everything you’re not old. Young, slim, and tall. You never grew much after eighth grade and you can’t do anything to stop time from its work. 

You cross the bar as the man next to her chortles and winks at her. His hand is on her stool, just by her hip. He looks about your age. You grit your teeth. 

You’re not brave or bold. You learned to survive by staying out of the way but you can’t just walk away from this. You know what older men want from women half their age. 

You clear your throat as you come up next to them. Eva ignores you as the man sends you a sneer, “can I help you?” 

You cross your arms. You’re not good at confrontation. Not with strangers and definitely not with men. 

“Eva,” you focus on your sister, “I’ve been waiting for you--” 

“Don’t pay attention to her,” she flutters her fingers. 

“Eva. You said you’d be home at eight--” 

“Ugh, you’re not my mother, okay? We both know where she is so just go away,” she snarls. She’s drunk. When she’s a few deep, she gets mean. 

“She’s grown,” the man insists. 

“She’s my sister, I’m talking to her,” you turn so your back is to him and you’re almost between them. “Eva, I got that job lined up for you--” 

“She said fuck off,” the man growls. You tune him out. 

“It’s good. You can take the year to build the reference then apply to the community college--” 

“You’re embarrassing me,” she hisses. 

“Would you get out of here?” The man pushes you so hard you stumble. You hit a table and gasp as the edge jams against your ribs. The people sat their grumble at you for spilling their drinks. 

“Johnny!” Eva cries out. “What the hell are you doing?” 

“You told her to get off,” he sneers. 

“Yeah, but you can’t just do that,” she whines. 

You steady yourself and apologise to the patrons at the table. You hug your middle and swallow down the pain. You swore you would never be pushed around by another man. 

You turn and march up to the creep. “You feel big picking on women? Huh? You feel like a man going after teenagers? Cause a woman your own age wouldn’t put up with you?” 

Eva tugs on your arm and says your name, “please, don’t. What are you doing?” 

“Do it again,” you goad. The words come out naturally.

You’re shocked by yourself but your reticence is dulled by that hereditary spark. That flame you’ve been tamping out for decades. Not like him. You are not him. 

“Pfft, don’t be a bitch. You already cockblocked me.” 

“No, you want to pick on me, pick on me.” You spit. 

“What’s wrong with you? Why are you here?” Eva snivels. 

‘Why are you here?’ Your mother drunkenly slurs. ‘I’m just having some funnnnnn.’ 

You stare at her. Eva wriggles and cries on your hip. You hush her, trying to comfort her. She’s hungry. You don’t have anything left in the can. 

‘Mom, that money was for her. Mom, where is it? Give it back.’ 

She chuckles and caresses the head of the man she sits on, “go talk to Chuck at the bar, he might give you a refund.’ 

Your name draws you out of the past. Eva shakes you as you snarl at the man. Your hands ball to fists. 

“There a problem?” A gravelly timbre undercuts your rage. 

Eva babbles again. 

“Walker,” footsteps stomp closer and Eva pulls you out of the way. 

You watch as a dark-haired man pulls the blond from atop the stool. He has him by the scruff, “what’d I tell you about fighting?” He glances at you then the foamy spill leaking onto the floor from the table as a server tries to sop it up. “You hitting women in my joint?” 

You quake with anger. This man thinks he’s a saviour. You don’t need him to defend you. In here, they’re all the same. 

“You better not come back,” the brunette growls and hurls the blond onto the floor. “This is the last time I’m tossing your ass out.” 

You watch the man’s shoulders strain the leather of his jacket. He’s broad, taller than you, like most, and about your age. He faces you. His hair is pushed back, the tails winging out behind his nape, his beard is thick and laced with silver, and he wears a golden medallion around his neck. His blue eyes scour you and Eva. 

“You alright?” He asks with a stitch in his forehead. 

“Just fine. Leaving,” you say as you twist your hand around to grab Eva’s arm instead. 

“I don’t put up with that in here. I saw that man up on your daughter and I shoulda stopped it earlier,” he intones. 

You scoff. 

“Look, you can have a drink on the house--” 

“I don’t drink,” you show your palm. “Excuse me.” 

You step around him and drag your sister with him. Under the ripple of anger, is fear. These men are dangerous. You forgot that at some point. Don’t ever forget that. You just wish Eva could see the same. 

You take her to the car as she stumbles in her heels. You open the passenger door and let her go. She gets in and you resist the urge to comment on her outfit. She can wear short skirts and crop tops, she’s an adult, but it’s too cold to not have a sweater. 

You go around and get in the driver seat. You sit there and stare at the wheel. You close your eyes and inhale. 

“I’m sorry. Are you okay?” 

“Eva,” you snip and open your eyes. You brace the wheel as you look at her. “You saw what that man did. I’m a woman with no value to him, so when he loses interest, what do you think happens to you?” 

She mopes and looks at her lap. She twirls her thumbs round each other and sniffles. “I was only having fun.” 

“You can’t find someone your own age? Or maybe a hobby. Try the library,” you run your hands over your forehead. “I don’t want to be like this. I don’t want to act like your mother, I want to be your sister. I want you to do better.” You slap your hands down on your legs. “You can make your decisions however you like but I just want you to think before you do.” 

“I’m sorry--” 

“You’re sorry. Again. You keep doing it,” you relent and slacken against the seat. “You’re not a kid. We both have to accept that.” 

You jam the keys in the ignition and turn. You sit up and peer around the lot. Your eyes snag on the figure standing in the glare of the marquee. That man in leather with the medallion. He watches calmly. 

You lean on the gas and steer around the lot. As you come closer to the bar, he waves with two fingers and winks. You frown and put your attention ahead of you. You just want to go home and go to bed. 

[starlightervarda]

I can't sleep so Star Trek TOS/SNW dashboard simulator

🪆 chekovsgunman Follow

to this day I can't understand why they're called the Three Musketeers if there's FOUR of them? Did Dumas just forget his own main character???

🪴 plantdad Follow

You've got to be kidding me

🪆 chekovsgunman Follow

I know right? A mistake like this would never happen in Russian literature!

5,324 notes

🩺 therealmccoy Follow

After months of taking care of everyone else on this giant tin can I really earned this shore leave. Now I get to drink, relax, flirt with some lovely ladies and sleep until noon 😎 Just what the the doctor ordered!

🩺 therealmccoy Follow

Update: A fucking purple tree ate five crewmen. Again.

955 notes

🖖 iamspock Follow

Despite being among humans for close to a decade, I still find their tendency to overcomplicate and avoid aspects of social situations to be confusing at best and infuriating at worst. So much time is wasted on tedious matters such as who gets to 'make the first move' or 'not come off too strong'.

For example, everyone aboard my vessel is keenly aware of Lt. Uhura and Engineer Scott's 'budding romance'. But their need to extend their oddly avoidant courtship ritual, rather than outright state their interest in one another, is pointless, as well as frustrating to witness.

Why do they do this? Why not 'get it over with', as they say?

I encourage answers from all cultures, human or otherwise.

💅 janicethemenace Follow

I'm sorry Scotty and Nyota are WHAT

💉 xtinechapel Follow

DELETE THIS

💖 ofmanytongues Follow

SPOCK NOOO HE DOESN'T THINK OF ME LIKE THAT 😭

🔧 scott-free Follow

But I do! I thought you knew and were just being nice about it!

💖 ofmanytongues Follow

DMing you rn 😳

🖖 iamspock Follow

You're welcome.

24,103 notes

🌟 j_tiberius_k Follow

PSA: If you visit Antares VII, stay clear of any yellow plants, their pollen can have some...inconvenient effects on the biology of humanoid peoples.

My XO and I suffered through troubling symptoms until it was almost too late. Thankfully, we figured out a cure in time.

🪴 plantdad Follow

I can only find info on the symptoms. What was the cure? 👀

🌟 j_tiberius_k Follow

Do I really have to say it?

6,322 notes

💊 mmmbenga Follow

The galaxy if Klingons didn't exist

⚔️ glorytotheempire Follow

Wow. Humans are openly advocating for our disappearance yet Klingons are the bad guys? I thought your federation stood for peace.

💊 mmmbenga Follow

Cry harder you genocidal wrinkly-faced bitch I hope your planet gets sucked into a black hole

#If you think a joke is on par with what they do then book an MRI because you might have brain damage #fuck Klingons and anyone that sympathizes with them

35,007 notes

😎 ortegaaaas Follow

So I can either skim through this asteroid belt on Warp 2 for 3 hrs or on Warp 5 for 15 mins

🚀 mitchiemitch Follow

Erica no! That's not how navigation works!

😎 ortegaaaas Follow

FLOOR IT???

🚀 mitchiemitch Follow

ERICA NO

😎 ortegaaaas Follow

HOW ABOUT WARP 7 FOR 15 SECONDS?

💖 ofmanytongues Follow

ERICA YOU'RE GOING TO CRASH THE SHIP

😎 ortegaaaas Follow

I AM GOING TO HARNESS LIGHT-SPEED TO ZIGZAG THROUGH THE VOID

🚀 mitchiemitch

ERICA P L E A S E

112,517 notes

🐴 sirsilverfox Follow

I know some species are very private, but you'd think they'd share the important stuff, esp when we should trust each other by now.

How are we supposed to enjoy my weekly dinners if you all don't tell me what to watch out for :/ This is the third time this happens to the same person and I had to get the answer why from our CMO

💫 numerouna Follow

Wait what did I miss while I was gone

🐴 sirsilverfox Follow

Spock got wasted on my chocolate fudge cake and hit his head on the counter ://///

2,904 notes

[universefcb]

THUNDER, PAU CUBARSÍ.

→ Summary: Your family and his family are friends, and then decide to go on a vacation together. But it starts to rain and you are afraid, and you have no one to turn to except Cubarsí.

→ Warning: Mention of Reader. Fluff. Romance.

→ Author's note: First fic of the Pau Cubarsí marathon.

And sorry if there are mistakes, English is not my language.I hope this is what you asked for!

The Greek sky during the summer was usually clear, tinged with blue and gold, reflecting the waters that lapped the islands. But that night, as if the universe itself wanted to test one’s nerves, everything was covered in dark clouds. Lightning streaked across the sky in a zigzag pattern, and thunder made the ground vibrate subtly.

She lay in her bed, the white sheets pulled up to her chin, her eyes fixed on the ceiling. The clock on the nightstand read 1:43 a.m. The sound of the rain beating against the balcony windows was constant, and although for most it would be a relaxing sound, for her, it was enough to send chills down her spine. Ever since she was a child, storms had evoked an inexplicable fear in her—something between irrational and inevitable.

She tried to distract herself. She put on her headphones, tried to listen to a calming playlist. She read a few pages of the book she had in her suitcase. Nothing worked. And when a particularly loud thunderclap made the pictures in the room shake, she sat up in bed with her heart racing.

“Irene.” She whispered to herself. The room next door belonged to Pau Cubarsí's sister, her friend since childhood. Irene would certainly understand her, or at least offer her company until the rain stopped.

Wearing only cotton shorts and a loose T-shirt, she grabbed her room key and walked out into the hallway with silent steps. The yellow light from the wall lamps cast shadows on the closed doors. She knocked lightly on Irene's door. Once. Twice. Three times.

Nothing.

She turned the doorknob. It was locked. She tried to insist by knocking harder. “Irene… open it, please.” No answer. She sighed, frustrated and a little more scared. With each new bang, she felt her body shrink.

He thought about his parents. They were in the hotel restaurant with Pau’s parents. They had mentioned that they were having a special dinner and that they would probably be back late. It was time to enjoy it without their children, they said with a smile.

Without many options, she stood there in the hallway, her bare feet on the cold floor and her heart beating fast.

That's when he noticed the door next door.

No longer.

She hesitated. They weren’t exactly close, but they’d known each other forever. Their families were very close, and that made it all the more…inevitable. They’d spent many summers together when they were kids, and now, even as teenagers—almost adults—they still talked from time to time. They’d exchanged jokes by the pool earlier, laughed together on the boat ride. But sharing a room with him? Would that be weird?

In the silence of the hallway, she heard a muffled sound coming from inside his room. Low music. Voices—TikTok. He was awake.

He bit his lower lip, took a deep breath, and knocked gently.

Seconds later, the door opened a crack. One of Pau's eyes peered through the opening, sleepy, confused.

“Hola?” he said, his voice husky and low. (Hello?)

“Sorry… to wake you up,” she said quickly, feeling her face heat up. “I… I’m scared of the storm. I tried Irene, my parents, but no one answers or is in the room. I just… wanted to know if I could stay here with you. Just until the rain stops.”

Pau frowned for a second. But then he opened the door a little wider. He was wearing shorts, no shirt, his hair was messy and his cell phone was still in his hand, showing a paused live stream.

“Sure. Come in.”

She walked in hesitantly. The room had the same layout as hers—double bed, balcony, low lighting. The only difference was the light mess of clothes and headphones on the armchair and the woody scent that seemed to be his alone.

“Sorry again,” she mumbled, stopping next to the bed. “I know it’s weird.”

“It’s not weird.” He gave a small smile. “You’re just scared… And I get it. That thunder is creepy.”

She smiled slightly, relieved that she wouldn't be judged. Pau walked over to the bed and sat down, putting his phone aside.

“You can sit down if you want,” he said, pointing to the other side of the mattress.

She sat up carefully, her hands in her lap. The rain grew even heavier, and when another clap of thunder lit up the entire room, she let out a small sigh and pulled her knees to her chest. Pau looked at her for a moment, intently.

“You trembled,” he commented, almost in a whisper.

“It’s automatic. I hate that sound.”

Silence for a few seconds.

“Come here,” he said softly, opening his arm in a welcoming gesture. “Just until it stops, I promise.”

She stared at him. For a moment, she considered refusing. But the gesture didn’t feel intimate. It felt caring. Safe. And at that moment, she just wanted to feel protected.

Then she came closer and let herself be enveloped in his embrace. His bare chest was warm, firm, and the sound of his heartbeat gradually replaced the sound of the rain. He rested his chin on her head, slowly, and they remained silent.

“Have you always been this afraid?” he asked, in a tone that almost blended with the sound of the water outside.

“Since I was little. My grandmother said it was because I was born on a stormy night.”

“So you are a child of chaos?” he smiled against her strands of hair.

She laughed softly, the tension easing.

“Maybe just too sensitive.”

“Sensitive... is different from weak.”

His words hung in the air for a few seconds, weighing them down in a strange way. She pulled her face away slightly to look at him, her eyes meeting his in the soft light of the lamp.

"No longer…"

"Hey?"

“You are... kinder than you look.”

He smiled, embarrassed, and looked away for a second.

“You too. I always thought you avoided me, you know?”

She raised an eyebrow.

“I didn’t avoid it. I just thought you were too serious for me.”

"And now?"

“Now... I think you're more than you seem too.”

The sound of rain still filled the room, but it no longer seemed so threatening. It was almost comforting, like a background soundtrack to what was happening there—something undefined, but delicate.

She settled more comfortably into his embrace, and Pau pulled her slightly closer.

“You can sleep here,” he murmured. “Stay until you feel safe. Or until morning, if you want.”

“Thank you, Pau…”

She closed her eyes, and he placed his lips lightly on the top of her head, in a gesture that not even he could explain. He just did it.

And they fell asleep there, she nestled in his arms, feeling protected. And he took the opportunity to smell the strawberry scent coming from her hair.

Taglist: @paucubarsisimp @nngkay @meganesanchez @htpssgavi @merinottt @luvvpedri @moonvr @joaosnovia @httpsdana @ilovebarcaaaa @p4uul0vr @pedricando @barcapix @owala6789

[donutz]

What aboutttttt............ Sebastian with his daughter/son/kid? Maybe before he got experimented on he had a child but couldn't see them anymore once he got fished, and recognizes them while they're a prisoner? I'll leave age/gender up to you

Not forcing!! Thank youu

Sebastian Solace reuniting with his kid

Meeting up with your father once again...

— Omg dad time!!!😂😂

Warnings: Father issues; PLATONIC!!!!; Negative thoughts, please DO NOT take them to heart, I don't mean any of that towards you, you're an amazing person ^^; Implied depression; Thoughts of su!c!de; Angsty but not so much; Reader can't get hurt by the monsters; No mention of age or gender, but Reader is over 21; Short :P(569 words); Cliffhanger!!

Staring at the blank and reflecting submarine ground, you see yourself. Well is it really yourself? With all that gear it could be anybody else.  They sent you to that prison because of what you’ve done.

Or did you really even do it?

No of course you didn’t.

They just think what your father did passes down to you.

Framing innocent people, killing them.

Disgusting.

To cover up your ‘mistake’ you signed up for this. They would’ve killed you like every other person, you’re not special(This is a lie, you’re amazing).

You arrive at the Hadal Blacksite, the large door opening. Revealing a large working site.

Stepping out, you hear a man’s voice through the speakers above. You look up. Nothing. Are they really even above you? Maybe they’re in the walls.

Are they watching you?

Can they hear you?

Can he hear you?

Does he know where you are?

Where is he?

Where are they?

Oh yeah, look upon the task ahead of course.

‘Ugh, this anxious stuff going on really hurts’.

‘Maybe I shouldn’t have signed this. Just so I could die’.

‘Being with dad sounds nice’.

You slide the keycard through the door. Door 001. You’re somewhat ready for what lies ahead. Any monsters, I mean you’re meters below the sea levels! Who knows what’s down here!

Door 020

You walked into a room, with a large window. Darkened, not really seeing much. Then a bright green light illuminates the room to your left.

Stupidly, you look at the source of light, seeing multiple green eyes with stars in them. Though they don’t affect you, at all. 

It’s.. Confused. Why won’t it affect you?

Oh. You’re his.

Nevermind then.

The shark swims away, leaving you in the dark. Again. It comes back a few times, but only to just see you.

Still, her eyes don’t affect you.

30 doors later, a vent grille quickly shoots to the other side of the room. Your tired eyes showing no fear or shock. Looking at the vent, you wait for something or someone.

“Need to stock up”?

.

.

.

What.

Now your eyes show some type of emotion.

They shrink, crinkles showing at the edge of your eyes, straightening your lips with a look of confusion on your face.

“Da—”

Your voice blanks out, your own vocal cords cutting itself off. Not from belief, you just haven’t talked for a bit. Your lips are dry, and your throat feels like a desert.

You clear your throat, going up to rub your eyes, only for your hand to bump against your visor.

Damn it.

“I have good thingss I swearrr”!! He jokes.

You walk over to the smaller space, getting down on your knees to crawl through it.

Reaching the end of it, you stand up.

“Welcome wel—”

Sebastian cuts himself off when he meets your gaze. His smile fading.

Comically, zigzags lightly shake around yours and his head, as if making some sort of connection through a radio channel. Your face makes a confused and focused look once again. While Sebastian looks surprised.

It’s silent.

You shake your head—

“Sorry— Do I know you”? You ask, cupping your sweating hand(Though it’s not like you can feel it) around the back of your neck, rubbing it.

Sebastian is taken aback, as if he recognizes that voice.

“Well I—… I just might”…

“… What’s your name”?

.

.

.

“Sebastian”.

You gasp—

“Dad”??

Short because... I'm more used to romantic stuff... And like... Yeah

[howi99]

From the Nest 9

Nora: *stars in her eyes* You killed an alpha at 7!? That's so AWESOME!

Jaune: *Scratching the back of his head* I didn't kill it per say. *Chuckle* Honestly, it kinda killed itself by running head first into a trap me and my master had made for deer.

Ren: How did you outrun it?

Jaune: Boarbatusks aren't really good in a forest. Zigzagging between trees is basically all you need to do to outmaneuver them. Then when you're near the pit, just stay still and they will charge straight at you.

Nora: Oh, so you were behind the pitfalls then? Waiting knowing you were safe?

Jaune: *remembering dodging the grimm in extremis* ... It would have been smarter, now that i think about it. *Shaking his head* I dodged it like an idiot at the last second.

Raven: *looking at him, furious* KAAAW! *Peck his hand*

Jaune: *frown, looking at his teacher in disguise* Hey, i was 7! Give me some slack, you hag!

Ruby: *chuckle* It's almost like she can understand you!

Jaune: *trying to fend off the relentless assault, protecting his head with his arms* She does and sometimes i wish she didn't!

Yang: *pensive* So... What are you gonna with it in class? I doubt we can bring animals there.

Jaune: Huh? Really? *Turning to Raven, who nod* Well, she IS technically not mine, so she probably would go home.

Yang: Oh, so it's like a family bird?

Jaune: ... It's complicated.

_ _ _

Jaune: *trying to stay awake during Port class* Urgh....

Blake: *reading her book* ...

Jaune: ... *Annoyed* Blake, if you don't suffer with all of us, i'll make sure to spoil you the next volume.

Blake: *side eyeing him* You wouldn't dare.

Jaune: Try me.

Blake: ... *Sigh, putting down her book on the table* Fine.

...

Blake: *yawning* He's not teaching us anything, is he?

Jaune: He is, but it's covered by so many metaphor and flowery talks, it's just a bore to listen to.

Blake: *surprised* Really? He's actually teaching us something?

Jaune: *yawn* Well, not me in particular, but probably most of the people here, yeah.

Yang: *smirk* Oh yeah? And what is he teaching us now, hm? It's just a story about how he protected a puppy from a bunch of grimms while its siblings ran away.

Nora: ...

Jaune: *stretching* Well, replace the puppies by kids. What do you think happened when its siblings ran away? Towards the grimms ambushed in the woods?

Yang: ... *Blood draining from her face* O-oh god... *Looking at the smiling old man* That's...

Nora: I've heard enough... *standing up, walking out of the class*

Ren: I'll go check on her. *Leave too*

Port: *his smile wavering just an instant, enough for the most perceptive to see the sorrow in his eyes* W-well, maybe i was getting ahead of myself with those stories of mine. Let's continue on ursas, shall we?

[fuqnia]

kenny x gender neutral reader

reader is having a panic attack from sensory overload (bright lights, loud noises, ect), kenny takes off his parka and puts it on them and it acts as a weighted blanket and then he comforts them and calms them down

No worries if you can’t do this request :)

Wrapped in Orange

kenny mccormick x reader insert

☆ A/N | the best way to end the year is writing for kenny... i love him so much 😭 tysm for this request, i hope i didn't butcher anything! ❤️this was also an excuse to write crimson dawn hehe <3

☆ C/W | panic attacks, sensory overload

The South Park Fall Festival was in full swing, buzzing with the kind of energy that could only exist on a crisp autumn evening. Warm string lights zigzagged overhead, draping the bustling square in a golden glow. The air was thick with the scent of caramel apples, roasted nuts, and cinnamon-spiced cider, mingling with the occasional waft of fried dough from a nearby food truck. Everywhere you looked, bright orange pumpkins and cornstalks lined the booths, the decorations carefully toeing the line between charmingly festive and intentionally cheesy.

You wandered through the maze of stalls, sipping from a steaming cup of cider, the warmth spreading through your fingers despite the chill in the air. There was something nostalgic about the Fall Festival, something that always made it feel like a time capsule. The families wrangling kids in oversized coats, the groups of friends laughing over rigged carnival games, even the occasional burst of a balloon popping somewhere in the distance—it all felt like stepping into a moment frozen in time.

You paused at a booth displaying handmade jewelry, the intricate designs glinting under the lights. The vendor smiled at you warmly, and you returned the gesture before continuing on, your gaze shifting to the brightly colored prizes dangling from a nearby game booth.

The sound of someone shouting your name cut through the din, and you turned to see a familiar figure waving at you from across the square. Stan stood near one of the carnival games, his signature navy beanie pulled low over his ears, holding a soda in one hand. Beside him, Kenny leaned casually against the booth’s counter, his orange hoodie bright against the fall backdrop.

“There you are!” Stan called, his breath visible in the cold air. “We thought you got lost or something.”

“I was just looking around,” you replied, making your way over to them.

Kenny straightened as you approached, his grin lazy and confident. “Good timing. You’re about to witness greatness.” He gestured toward the stack of prizes lining the shelves of the balloon-popping game.

“Greatness, huh?” you said, raising an eyebrow as you leaned against the counter beside him.

Stan snorted. “Don’t let him fool you. He’s already blown, like, ten bucks trying to win something.”

“Ten bucks well spent,” Kenny shot back, grabbing one of the darts from the booth attendant. “It’s called investing in success, Marsh. You should try it sometime.”

“Yeah, okay,” Stan said, smirking as he took a sip of his soda. “Sure.”

Kenny ignored him, turning his attention to the balloons. He aimed with exaggerated precision, squinting like he was lining up a shot that could change the course of history. With a flick of his wrist, the dart flew—and missed the balloon entirely, bouncing off the backboard.

“You’re distracting me,” Kenny said, flashing you a grin that was somehow both charming and exasperated.

“Uh-huh,” you replied, trying to stifle a laugh.

Stan shook his head. “This is painful to watch.”

Kenny threw another dart, and this time, it popped the balloon with a satisfying bang. He turned toward you, his grin widening. “See? Told you I’ve got skills babe.”

“Congratulations,” you said, clapping slowly. “You’ve truly earned your spot in the Balloon Popping Hall of Fame.”

Kenny bowed theatrically, then turned back to the booth attendant, who handed him a small stuffed pumpkin. He spun it in his hands like it was a priceless artifact before holding it out to you.

“For you, my liege,” he said, his voice mockingly chivalrous.

You laughed, taking the plush toy from him. “Wow, my very own pumpkin. How will I ever repay you?”

“By sticking around for the show later,” Kenny replied, his tone shifting from playful to surprisingly sincere. “Crimson Dawn’s hitting the stage in, like, twenty minutes.”

“Wouldn’t miss it,” you said with a smile, hugging the stuffed pumpkin to your chest.

The three of you continued to wander through the festival, and for a while, everything felt perfect. The lights above twinkled like stars, the music from the stage mingling with the laughter of the crowd. Kenny cracked jokes, Stan occasionally chimed in with his deadpan humor, and for a moment, the world seemed as simple and magical as it did when you were a kid.

But then, something shifted.

It started small, barely noticeable at first. The lights, which had seemed warm and inviting, now felt just a little too bright, their glow sharper against the dark sky. The overlapping sounds of the festival—the music, the chatter, the occasional burst of a carnival game—blended into a hum that grew steadily louder, pressing against your temples.

You shook it off, brushing away the faint unease. You were probably just tired.

Kenny was saying something, but his voice seemed farther away than it should have been.

“You okay?” he asked, tilting his head toward you.

You blinked, forcing a smile. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

But the feeling didn’t fade.

The crowd around you seemed to thicken, the once-charming chaos of the festival now feeling overwhelming. Every sound felt amplified—the rustle of jackets, the crunch of footsteps, the laughter and chatter blending into an incomprehensible blur. Even the smells, once comforting, felt suffocating now, each scent competing for dominance in a way that made your stomach churn.

Your steps faltered, and you clutched the stuffed pumpkin in your arms as if it could anchor you.

“[Y/N]?” Kenny’s voice was closer now, his usual teasing tone replaced with something softer, more concerned.

You opened your mouth to respond, but your chest felt tight, your breathing shallow.

It’s fine, you told yourself. You just need a second.

But the world around you didn’t stop spinning. The lights blurred, their sharp glow piercing your eyes. The chatter of the crowd became an unintelligible roar, pressing in from all directions. Your pulse raced, a drumbeat of panic pounding in your ears.

Kenny’s voice broke through the haze, sharper now but laced with concern. His hand brushed your arm, light but insistent. “Hey, are you sure you’re good? You’re looking pale as hell.”

You blinked, trying to find your voice, but your breathing was too shaky to form words.

Kenny’s grin disappeared, replaced with a sharp focus that felt unusual for him. He glanced over his shoulder at Stan, catching his attention. “Cover for me,” he said, low but firm. Stan didn’t question it, giving a quick nod before heading backstage.

Kenny turned back to you. “Come on, let’s get out of this mess.” His tone was softer now, and he wrapped an arm securely around your shoulders, guiding you through the crowd. His movements were steady, deliberate, as if shielding you from the chaos.

“It’s too loud, huh? Too much going on?” His words weren’t pushy, just observations. “Let’s find somewhere quiet. You’ll be fine—I promise.”

He didn’t stop until you were seated on a bench near the edge of the festival. Kenny crouched in front of you, resting a hand on your knee while his other hand hovered, ready to steady you. His blue eyes scanned your face, his expression unreadable but serious.

“Okay, look at me,” he said, his voice low but steady. “Breathe with me. In through your nose, out through your mouth. Like this.” He exaggerated a deep breath, making the motion clear. “You’re not gonna faint on me or anything. Just stick with me, alright?”

You tried to follow his lead, but the panic was unrelenting. Your breaths were shallow and erratic, and the dizzy feeling in your head refused to fade.

“Damn it,” Kenny muttered under his breath, glancing around as if the answer might be hiding nearby. His hands came up to gently hold your face, his gloved palms warm against your skin. “Focus on me, not all the noise out there. Just me. Nothing else matters right now.”

You nodded faintly, but the panic still clawed at your chest. Despite Kenny’s calm tone, your breathing stayed uneven, and the tension didn’t ease.

Kenny rubbed the back of his neck, his calm exterior cracking slightly. “Okay, plan B.” He stood and reached for your hand, pulling you up with him.

You stumbled slightly but didn’t protest as he led you away from the crowd again. “Stick with me,” he said, his voice quiet but resolute. “It’s too much out here—we’ll find somewhere better.”

The flashing lights and blaring sounds dimmed as Kenny guided you through the backstage area. His grip on your hand was firm, grounding you with every step. When he reached a small dressing room, he pushed the door open and ushered you inside. The quiet hit you like a wave, the muffled hum of the festival feeling a world away.

“Sit,” Kenny said, nodding toward the worn loveseat in the corner. You sank into the cushions, placing the pumpkin Kenny won for you down gently.

“I-I’m sorry,” you whispered, your voice trembling. “This is your big performance, and I’m—”

“Stop that,” Kenny interrupted, crouching in front of you again. His expression softened as he met your gaze. “You’re not ruining anything. You think I care about the show right now? Screw that. You’re way more important.”

“But Kenny, you’ve been working on this for weeks,” you stammered, guilt and panic twisting together in your chest. “I don’t want to mess this up for you—”

“You’re not messing up anything,” he said firmly. His hands rested on your knees, steadying you as he leaned closer. “Do you really think I’d ditch you like this? Come on. 

His words were meant to comfort, but they only tightened the knot of guilt in your chest. The panic surged again, your breathing quickening as your vision blurred.

“Shit, okay,” Kenny muttered, running a hand through his messy blonde hair. He stood quickly, unzipping his hoodie with one smooth motion. “Here, hold still.”

Before you could question him, Kenny draped the parka over your shoulders, tugging it snugly around you. The thick fabric was heavy, the weight pressing down like an anchor against the swirling chaos in your head.

“It’s probably sweaty or something, but deal with it,” Kenny said, his tone quieter now. He zipped the jacket up gently, pulling the hood over your head. “There. Now you’re like... cocooned or whatever. Better?”

You nodded slightly, the weight and warmth of the jacket working like a shield. The faint scent of Kenny—cheap cologne and campfire smoke—grounded you further. Your breaths began to slow, the pressure in your chest easing.

Kenny knelt back down, one hand still resting on your knee. “Hey,” he said softly, his voice rough but careful. “You’re doing fine. Just take your time. I’m not going anywhere.”

You looked at him, his usually sharp grin replaced with something softer. “Thanks,” you murmured.

He shrugged, though his eyes didn’t leave yours. “You’d do the same for me,” he said, his lips quirking into a faint, lopsided smile. “And besides, you look kinda cute in my jacket. Just saying.”

A weak laugh escaped you, and he grinned a little wider. “There we go. Knew I could get you to smile.”

You glanced down, toying with the zipper of his parka where it rested snugly around your shoulders. The fabric was heavy but comforting, like a shield against the chaos outside. After a moment, you looked up at Kenny, hesitant but resolute.

“Can I still watch you play?” you asked softly, your fingers fidgeting with the edges of the jacket.

Kenny’s grin faded, replaced with a skeptical look. “Are you serious? You just had a full-on panic moment out there, and you wanna jump back in?” He crossed his arms, his sharp blue eyes narrowing slightly. “No way. Not happening.”

“I’ll stay back,” you insisted, your voice small but steady. “I don’t have to be in the crowd. I just... I want to see you. Please?”

He sighed, his arms dropping to his sides as he stared at you for a long moment. “You’re really gonna push this, huh?”

You nodded, holding his gaze despite the nervous flutter in your chest.

Kenny raked a hand through his messy blonde hair, muttering something under his breath. “You’re impossible, you know that?”

You looked down, the weight of his disapproval making you shrink slightly. “I just don’t want to miss it. This is important to you.”

Kenny huffed a sharp laugh, crouching in front of you again. “You think I care about a stupid bassline more than I care about you not passing out? Come on, [Y/N]. Don’t make me be the responsible one here—it’s freaking me out.”

That earned a faint smile from you, and he rolled his eyes. “Look,” he said, his tone softening, “you wanna see the show? Fine. But no crowd. I’m not letting you get crushed by a bunch of sweaty festival-goers.”

“How?” you asked, your head tilting slightly.

He stood and offered you a hand. “We’ll sneak you backstage. You can watch from behind the amps or something. You’ll get the best view without risking a meltdown. Deal?”

Relief flooded through you, and you nodded as you took his hand. “Deal.”

Kenny pulled you to your feet, keeping a firm grip on your hand as he guided you through the narrow hallway backstage. The muffled sound of the festival buzzed around you, but the chaos felt a world away with Kenny leading the way.

When you reached a small clearing behind the stage, Kenny gestured toward a stack of equipment cases tucked behind a row of amps. “Here. You’ll be out of the way, but you can still see everything. Pretty sweet setup, right?”

You smiled, your heart warming at the effort he’d gone to for you. “It’s perfect. Thank you.”

He shrugged, the corners of his mouth quirking into a faint grin. “Yeah, well, you’re lucky I’m a sucker for that face.”

Before you could respond, one of the stagehands poked their head around the corner. “McCormick! One minute!”

Kenny groaned, tossing his head back dramatically. “Yeah, yeah, I’m coming!” he called before turning back to you. His grin softened into something more genuine as he grabbed his bass from a nearby stand. “Stay put, alright? And don’t go wandering off. I’m trusting you to hold down the fort.”

“I’ll behave,” you promised, settling into your spot.

“Good,” he said, slinging the bass strap over his shoulder. As he turned toward the stage, he glanced back, his usual cocky grin flickering back into place. “Enjoy the show, VIP. Try not to fall for me too hard, alright?”

You rolled your eyes, a quiet laugh escaping as he strode onto the stage. The crowd erupted into cheers, the energy surging even from your secluded vantage point.

And as Kenny plucked the first notes on his bass, a faint smile tugged at your lips. Even from the shadows, it was impossible to miss the way he owned the moment—confident, chaotic, and effortlessly cool. The low, steady thrum of his bass anchored the band, a sound that felt grounding in the best way.

Between verses, Stan leaned into his mic, his tone dripping with sarcasm as he glanced toward Kenny. “Alright, everyone give it up for Kenny McCormick on bass,” he said, gesturing lazily. “No parka tonight, folks. Must be hell of a heatwave out here—what is it, like, 30 degrees?”

The crowd chuckled, but Jimmy piped up from the drums, stammering out a sharp jab between beats. “Y-y-yeah, or maybe he sold it for a—f-for a pack of smokes!”

The crowd laughed louder this time, and even Butters chimed in with an awkward giggle. “Aw, well, I think he looks real classy without it!”

Kenny rolled his eyes, leaning into his mic with a sharp smirk. “You guys are hilarious,” he said, his voice heavy with sarcasm. “Really groundbreaking shit here—can’t wait to see this comedy tour take off. And for the record, Butters, if you think this is classy, I’m worried about what you’re settin’ the bar at.”

Butters turned red as the crowd laughed again, and Stan snorted, shaking his head. “Relax, dude, it’s just weird seeing your scrawny ass without fifty layers of orange wrapping it up. You look like a naked cat.”

Jimmy nearly dropped his drumsticks as he cackled. “M-maybe he lost a bet. Or f-f-finally figured out how zippers work!”

“Fuck all of you,” Kenny shot back, grinning despite himself as he flipped them off with one hand while still playing. The crowd cheered at his response, but Kenny’s sharp blue eyes flicked toward the shadows backstage. His grin softened slightly as he glanced your way, a silent check-in just for you.

You giggled, biting your lip to keep the sound from carrying, and pressed the sleeve of his parka to your mouth. The fabric felt warm and heavy, the weight of it keeping the sharp edges of the world at bay.

The band launched into their next song, Kenny’s bassline thrumming low and steady beneath the melody. The crowd surged with energy, and though the lights still flickered and the noise still echoed, it didn’t feel like too much anymore. With the parka wrapped snugly around you and Kenny just a glance away, everything felt manageable.

The music pounded through the stage, strong and unyielding, and Kenny kept stealing glances at you when he thought no one was looking. Every time his eyes met yours, a flicker of something warmer crossed his face—faint but unmistakable.

Maybe the chaos wasn’t gone, but it didn’t swallow you whole this time. With Kenny anchoring you, the noise and lights softened just enough.

He caught your eye again as the song ended, throwing you a quick wink before returning to his mic. “Alright, let’s hear it for Butters for not tripping over his own feet during that solo,” he said, jerking his thumb toward his bandmate.

Butters flushed red, muttering into his own mic. “I—I did good, though!”

“Yeah, you did great,” Kenny teased, his smirk widening. “For a guy who looks like his mom made him wear church shoes to the gig.”

The crowd roared with laughter, and Butters let out a high-pitched whine, hiding his face behind his guitar.

From your spot behind the amps, you couldn’t help but laugh. And as you leaned back, hugging Kenny’s parka closer, the tension that had gripped you earlier felt distant, almost silly now. Maybe not everything would be this easy, but with someone like Kenny—sharp-tongued, chaotic, but steady when it mattered—it all felt a little less overwhelming.

You’d be okay.

[phantomwithbreakfast]

~ Forbidden Love ~

DP phanfic story.

Teaser chapter 09. Hehe.

You can read the story on FanFiction.net—not finished—currently working on chapter 09! Not posted online yet.

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Pitch Pearl

Genre: Angst — Hurt/Comfort — Romance

TW: Bullying and Harassment — Violence — Emotional Distress — Strong Language)

Rate: T (But maybe it is M)

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Spoiler loading…

Phantom shot through the sky, his form a blur against the night as the wind whipped around him, cool and refreshing. He could feel it tugging at his hair, swirling through his loose posture as he zigzagged through the open air, darting in and out of view. Each dip and dive filled him with a thrill he hadn’t felt in ages, a rush of pure excitement.

With a burst of speed, he popped back into view right in front of Valerie, stopping so suddenly that her eyes widened, her body tensing as she jerked back just a fraction. He caught the quick flicker of surprise in her face, and it made him chuckle, a low, mischievous sound that echoed through the quiet night. He floated backward slowly, his smirk widening, crossing his arms against his chest as he tilted his body in a relaxed, almost lazy posture. His legs stretched out in front of him, one foot casually crossing over the other as he drifted back, sticking his tongue out at her like a kid daring her to react.

Valerie’s eyes narrowed, but before she could anything, Phantom was on the move again. He shot forward with a laugh, his form shimmering as he phased right through her, that he could feel the chill radiating off her gear. As he passed, he glanced over his shoulder, catching a glimpse of her stunned expression as she spun around, trying to follow his movement.

The laughter bubbled up in his chest, light and joyful, as he soared upward, leaving her behind once more, his body twisting and looping through the air like he was part of the night itself. Every movement was effortless, his limbs loose, his posture fluid, as he relished the freedom of the moment.

———————

Maybe I still change this chapter up a bit, I don’t know yet.

And with that, I drew this one. To get the vision of that specific moment, you know?

And oh geez. Now I have the time again to practice at drawing, what feels like ancient ages ago, I think my own style might change (of course it does), ‘cause I’m searching back for my own style lol. Nothing is perfect, nothing ever will be perfect. Go with the flow, yes!

You have no idea how much I missed drawing Danny! It’s really therapy for me, and that includes the writing too.

And oh. First time I drew Valerie. That was quite fun (the tech suit!).

———————

Made in ProCreate.

DP copyright/rights, belongs to Nickelodeon.

[biblical-chronicles]

Baby fever

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where Noel can't get enough of watching you take care of Lennon.

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You and Noel had just sat down on the couch, him sinking into the cushions with a sigh like he was already bored out of his mind. You’d barely had a second to settle in before the sound of tiny feet pattering across the floor made you perk up.

“Lennon’s in?” you asked, turning to Liam with a grin.

“Yeah, yeah, the big lad’s here,” he muttered, waving a hand dismissively. “But don’t get too excited, he’s a right little menace today.”

You didn’t listen. The second the little blond toddler rounded the corner, you were beaming. “Lennon!”

His head snapped up, bright eyes finding you instantly, and before Liam could warn you, the kid was launching himself at you. Small arms wrapped around your legs, and you scooped him up effortlessly, laughing as he clung to you like a little monkey.

“Well, hello to you too,” you chuckled, brushing his hair back from his forehead. “Didn’t know you were waitin' for me.”

“Course I was.” he said simply, in that blunt way only toddlers could manage.

Liam rolled his eyes. “Oi, don’t inflate her ego, kid. She’s insufferable enough as it is.”

Lennon ignored him, making a beeline for the couch just as you sat down next to Noel again. But rather than plopping himself down anywhere else, the toddler wedged his tiny frame right between you and Noel, determinedly claiming the space like it was a matter of life and death.

Liam snorted, shaking his head. “Bloody hell, Noel, watch out. Looks like the little one’s about to steal your missus.”

Noel barely spared a glance down at the sudden intruder in his space, just raised an eyebrow before Liam piped in again. “Reckon she’s got a type, then. Clingy, bossy, and about three feet tall.”

You burst into laughter as Lennon, oblivious to the teasing, just snuggled further into you, like he’d already won some great battle.

“Well, I can’t argue with that, can I?” You lifted him into your lap instead, letting him settle in comfortably, absentmindedly smoothing out his hair as he leaned against you.

Noel just shook his head, amused. “Right little charmer, he is.”

Liam scoffed, flopping into the armchair across from you. “Don’t encourage him, man. He’s got enough of that from his mum.”

The conversation drifted into the usual back and forth, jokes flying between you, Liam, and Noel, with Lennon happily nestled in your lap, soaking up the attention. But, of course, with toddlers having the attention span of a goldfish, Lennon soon started wiggling restlessly.

“I’m bored,” he announced dramatically. “Can we play footie? Please?”

Liam raised an eyebrow. “Oi, this isn’t your guest, you know.”

Before he could go on further, you grinned. “Oh, I don’t mind at all, if you'll excuse me for ten minutes.” you said easily, shifting Lennon off your lap and standing up.

Lennon’s face lit up, practically glowing with pride. He turned to his dad with a smug grin. “Look, she wants to play with me.”

Noel snorted, and Liam shot him a glare before looking back at you. “Yeah, yeah, alright, but don’t let him run you ragged. He’s relentless today.”

You ruffled Lennon’s hair. “I think I can handle it.”

With that, you followed the little one outside, letting him dash ahead to grab the ball. The air was crisp but not too cold, the sky still holding onto the last bits of daylight. Lennon wasted no time, rolling the ball toward you with an eager grin.

“Alright,” you said, tapping the ball back toward him. “Let’s see what you’ve got.”

The game was chaos from the start. Lennon had all the energy in the world and none of the technique, yet that didn’t stop him from running around like a madman. You tried showing him some basic kick-ups, but he was more interested in dribbling the ball in a messy zigzag and making dramatic goal celebrations every time he got past you.

Inside the house, Noel had half a mind to listen to whatever Liam was going on about, but his attention kept drifting toward the window. His fingers drummed against the armrest, eyes narrowing slightly as he watched you outside. The way you crouched to Lennon’s level, patiently showing him how to control the ball. The way you laughed when he got it wrong but tried again anyway. The way Lennon absolutely adored you.

Liam caught where his gaze had wandered and smirked. “Jesus Christ, look at you.”

Noel turned back, frowning. “What?”

Liam gestured lazily toward the window. “You’re bloody mesmerised. Don’t think I’ve seen you look that in love with owt that isn’t a guitar.”

Noel scoffed, but his gaze flickered back outside, where Lennon had just tackled you in an overly enthusiastic hug after managing to kick the ball past you.

Liam smirked. “Baby fever, is it?”

“Shut up.” Noel muttered, sinking further into the couch.

Liam laughed. “Nah, mate, I get it. She’s good with him. Natural, even.” He leaned back, arms crossed. “Bet you’re thinkin’ about it now, aren’t ya?”

Noel rolled his eyes. “You're a bloody wind up merchant, you.”

Liam just grinned. “Say what you want, but I bet if I walked out there right now and told her you wanna put a ring on it, you wouldn’t even deny it.”

Noel glared at him. “You do that, and you’ll be the one buried in the garden.”

Liam just laughed harder, but Noel ignored him, letting his gaze drift back out the window, watching as you ran around with the toddler, both of you grinning like it was the best day ever.

After a while, you and Lennon made your way back inside, slightly breathless, your shirt damp from running around with him. As you stepped into the living room, you wiped your forehead dramatically.

“You were right,” you said to Liam, shaking your head. “He’s a bit relentless today. We’re gonna grab some water, yeah?”

But Lennon had other ideas. “No!” he piped up, bouncing on his feet. “I wanna show them the song!”

That got Noel and Liam’s attention. Noel leaned forward slightly, intrigued, while Liam raised an eyebrow.

“Oh yeah?” you asked, crouching down to his level. “You sure? No water first?”

Lennon ignored that completely, puffing his little chest out. Then, with all the confidence in the world, he started singing.

"Blue moon… you saw me standing alone…”

He got through the first few lines, not quite in tune, words a bit jumbled, but the effort was undeniable. When he finished, he stood there beaming, waiting for approval.

You clapped immediately, grinning. “That was brilliant, Lennon!” Then, you turned to Liam, shaking your head. “I’m actually disgusted, Liam. How could he not know the club anthem before?”

Lennon, catching onto your tone, gasped and looked up at his dad, eyes wide with betrayal, clearly not wanting to miss the opportunity to tell his dad off with you behind his back.

“Yeah, what she said.”

Liam groaned. “Oh, come on—why are you two ganging up on me in me own house?”

Noel let out a quiet chuckle, shaking his head. “Looks like you’ve lost this one, our kid.”

You smirked. “Might be time to admit you’ve failed as a parent, Liam.”

Liam pointed at you, shaking his head. “You’re a terrible influence.”

“Oh, don’t be dramatic,” you teased, running a hand through Lennon’s hair. “You’re just bitter ‘cause I got there first.”

Liam scoffed. “He’s just three! I was gonna teach him.”

Noel just continued watching the whole thing unfold, arms crossed as he leaned back into the couch. But something about the scene—you, standing there, Lennon practically attached to your side, both of you smirking at Liam like you were conspiring against him—was doing something to him. And the fact that you’d been the one to teach him Blue Moon? That just sealed it.

Liam, of course, clocked it immediately. He turned to Noel with a knowing smirk. “Oi, you alright there, mate? You’re lookin’ a bit—what’s the word? Smitten?”

Noel scowled. “Oh give over.”

But Liam was already laughing. “Oh, this is great. You’re gone, mate. Completely gone.”

You turned back to Noel, raising an eyebrow. “What’s he on about?”

Noel just shook his head, but the smile was already creeping onto his lips. “Nothin’. He’s just windin' me up.”

Before you could press him, Lennon tugged at your sleeve. “Can I sing it again?”

You grinned, reaching for his hands. “Course you can, rockstar.”

As Lennon launched into another—somehow even less accurate—rendition of Blue Moon, Noel pulled you down beside him. He then leaned in and pressed a kiss to your temple.

It was so natural, that for a second you almost didn’t react. But then you glanced at him, catching that little smirk of his, and felt warmth spread through your chest.

Noel’s voice was low, just for you. “I love you, y’know. To the moon and back.”

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I loved this, big thanks to @tashi-3 for the request, hope you liked it love !!

I know the picture doesn't match that well but he just looked too good not to put it in, biblical side profile x