#limes (five more minutes) is like an hour

[musubiki]

limochi doodle

[dira333]

Date Nights - Aizawa Shouta

From the Date Night Series - Tagging @alienaiver

Edit: You need to have this visual while reading

1.

“Are you ready to go?”

Shouta looks up from his desk. He’d been so close to resting his head on it, to giving his tired eyes some much-needed rest. 

Your smile is warm and inviting. And it makes something tingle in the back of his brain, something he’d been trying to remember all week.

“Oh no,” he groans softly, “I forgot our date.”

Your smile doesn’t falter.

“I heard about your day from Hizashi,” your voice does not carry any resentment yet his heart is thundering in his chest. 

God, he’d been so anxious about it, had been pondering where to go and what to do for hours, how could he forget?

“Let me just get a coffee real quick and we’ll be good to go,” Shouta insists. He’ll also need at least five minutes in a bathroom and a spare change of clothes. He knows he looks more like a homeless person than anything else right now and he probably smells like it too.

“No need,” you wave him off. His heart stutters to a halt. 

Please don’t cancel, Shouta thinks, just as you reach out and take his hand. Your fingers are warm against his own cold ones, bad circulation be damned.

“I asked you out, so of course I planned the date. Come on, we don’t want to miss anything.”

“But coffee-” He manages, his heart pitter-pattering away as he follows you down the hallways of the school.

They are deserted, thankfully. As much as he loves the feel of your hand in his, he couldn’t bear it if anyone saw. 

Your car is a lime-green monstrosity. You smile sheepishly when he stares at it.

“I like bright colors,” you shrug, “And I’ve never lost my car in a car park since I’ve bought it.”

He can’t argue against that. The seats are soft and he can feel himself slipping, almost falling asleep against the window. When he jerks away, adamant to at least look awake if he’s not looking like much else, he finds your hand resting on his knee. His mouth runs dry. Can he? Is he supposed to? 

He puts his hand on yours and you turn to smile at him before looking back at the road. 

It’s a quiet ride. Somewhere in the organized chaos of his brain, he jots down that you don’t listen to music while you drive. It’s a welcome change from sharing rides with Hizashi.

“We’re here.” You park in front of an apartment complex. “Come on up.”

Your keys jingle in your hand as you walk in front of him, up the stairs and down a hallway. You open the door that has your name on it.

His heart thunders traitorously. Did you bring him to your place for your first date? Why?

His mouth won’t let him form words, so he follows you silently, his mind racing ahead. 

It’s only when he’s slipped out of his shoes and pulled on the bunny slippers you’ve placed for him, that he makes sene of what’s going on. 

In the middle of your living room is a fort of pillows and blankets, big enough to house All Might in his muscle form if he wanted to.

Shouta stops and stares. You do flourish your arms. “Tada! Do you want something to drink first? I thought it was a good idea because you honestly always look like you don’t get enough rest and it’s important to take care of each other’s needs in a relationship and I asked you out so-” 

It’s the first time he’s heard you rambling today and the familiar sound soothes his nerves a little. At least you’re nervous too.

He steps forward, boldened by your own actions, and kisses you.

You sink into it right away, arms thrown around him to pull him even closer.

When you pull back first, he can’t help but chase after you, to sink further into your embrace as you giggle with your face pressed against his neck.

“I’ll make you something to drink, okay?” You whisper, face still hidden away. “Make yourself comfortable.”

He wakes up hours later, throat perched, head in your lap.

You’re reading something on a tablet, one hand free to drag itself through his hair in a motion that could put him back to sleep again.

“So, about a second date…” You ask when you stop at his place in the morning so that he can get a fresh set of clothes before work. You’re not looking at him but your hands are squeezing the steering wheel, telling him how nervous you are.

He leans over and kisses you, pouring all his feelings into the gesture.

“There’s a bookstore in my neighborhood,” he offers, “We could go there after school. Today shouldn’t be as draining and even if, I want to go with you.”

Your smile could light up the world. It certainly lights up his.

-

2.

“Ready to go?” Shouta’s patting himself down as he asks. He’s got his keyes, his pain medication, his phone is fully charged and his wallet’s there too.

You’re still on the Couch, petting Muffin. The old tabby is purring so loud he can hear it from the entryway. 

“For what?” You ask, a little distracted by Muffin trying to chew on your fingertips.

“We’ve got a Date, honey. Why did you think Deku picked up Eri?”

“Because he wants to spend time with her?” You pull Muffin from your lap and deposit her on a pillow, kissing her head when she mews.

You yawn as you walk over, don’t cover your mouth in favor of brushing the pet hair from your legs.

“What kind of date?” You ask as you pull close and kiss him, snuggle into his embrace.

“There’s this new Bookshop a few blocks down. I walked past it a few times when I went to the park with Eri and it looked promising.”

“Really?” You furrow your brows. “How do I not know about it? I’ve never seen one when I go to the park with her.”

“That’s because we take a different route. More cats, less foot traffic.” He kisses your cheek and pushes you toward the bedroom. 

“Five minutes, you need a different sweater. I won’t go out with you looking like this.”

You stick your tongue out at him, but comply. 

When you come back, he can’t help the laugh bubbling in his throat. You’re wearing a Ganriki Neko sweater in purple and turquoise over a purple skirt and turquoise tights, an outfit he’s seen last at one of Hizashi’s costume parties.

“How do I look?” You ask, batting your eyelashes at him.

“Like I need sunglasses to take you in,” He jokes.

The walk to the bookstore is short and quiet. You’ve been distracted lately, 

Maybe it’s the new Class you’ve got or Eri’s recurring nightmares, but he’d been planning a date like this for a while now. Taking a break just hasn’t gotten easier now that they’re parents.

“Pspsps,” He leans down to feed a snack to the little black kitten that Eri has fallen in love with. It’s well groomed and clearly belongs to someone, but it loves coming over to say hi.

-

“I’ll get us some drinks,” Shouta declares the moment you step into the store. It’s lovely, not entirely rebuilt, but rather renovated, giving the old, darkened wood some new life. 

You nod and wander around, peeking at the shelves in search of something that tickles your interest. He finds you in the non-fiction aisle not much later, deeply invested in a cookbook.

“This has everything,” you explain. “How to eat during your pregnancy or if you want to increase the chances as well as how to feed children of different ages.”

“Okay? How are the recipes though? We’ve got plenty of cookbooks at home we don’t use.”

“True,” you grumble. It’s your least favorite thing about him, how he tends to stop you from impulse buying. He offers you your drink before you can dwell on that any longer.

“For you, sugar with a side of coffee.”

“Har Har.” You mock laugh before taking a sip of the concoction, furrowing your brows a little. “It tastes a little off,” you claim. “Did you ask for something from the menu?”

“No, I gave them your special recipe. Sorry, do you want something different?”

“No, it’s fine. They probably made it for the first time this way.” You take another sip and your brows relax. “I’m just a little weird today.”

“I’m a little weird everyday,” he offers and you lean into him, heavy, warm and familiar.

“Let’s take a look around, shall we?” He grabs your free hand with his, swings them around as he pulls you forward. There’s plenty to see and soon enough, his arms grow loaded with books. The newest edition of the manga Hitoshi reads, a signed biography of a Hero Hizashi’s still very enthusiastic about, bookmarks and a little Neko Nightlight for Eri, the list goes on.

“I need to sit down for a bit,” Shouta exclaims when you turn back towards the non-fiction again. “You can find me at the children’s books.”

“Okay.” You get on your tiptoes and kiss his stubble. “I won’t take long.”

-

Shouta’s halfway through a book about a little mole looking for a home when you come back. He’s accustomed to the sound of your footsteps, even if they come a little more hesitant, like now.

You’ve got one book in your arms, the title hidden as it’s pressed against your stomach. 

There’s a shy smile on your face as you turn it around to show him the cover.

“How to be Pregnant for Dummies.”

He reads it and reads it again. The news take a moment to seep into his brain but when it does, he almost takes down the book display with how fast he jumps from his seat.

“No way!” 

“SHHH!” Someone shushes him from the front. Shouta doesn’t care.

You’re smiling, eyes a little teary.

“Since when do you know?”

“I got the results today, but I missed my period so I’ve had a hunch for a week or so. It’s still pretty early.” You giggle when he peppers kisses all over your face, making it almost impossible for you to keep talking.

“Sorry, I was a little bit in my head the last few days.”

“It’s okay. It’s big news.”

“Hm. How do we tell Eri? And Hitoshi? And-”

Shouta turns around and pulls a book from the pile he wants to buy.

“Little Neko got a sibling?” You ask, a little dumbfounded. “How did you know?”

His smile is a little sheepish. He can never lie to you.

“I didn’t. But the Neko was cute.”

You laugh at that, pull him closer. It reminds him of their first second date. 

Of cuddling in a corner at the bookstore, away from prying eyes.

Some things will never change, even with a metal leg and a new life on the way.

-

“Where do you wanna go next?” He asks when the books are paid for, hanging off his right arm as you lean onto his left.

You blink up at him, eyes still a little red-rimmed from all the happy tears.

“When’s Eri coming home?”

“Two hours, maybe. Do you wanna go home and cuddle?”

You ponder that for a second, your hands warm on his. 

“Let’s get ice cream,” you decide, a wide smile on your face. “And when we get back, we can make a fort!”

Shouta pulls you close, presses a kiss onto the top of your head.

“I love you.”

“Mhm,” You grin up at him. “I love you more.”

My Kofi if you want to tip me

[jobesbabe]

Proud of You / Jobe Bellingham

ps i made this gif so give creds if u use it!

warnings: established relationship, fluff, bar setting

summary: tired you cozying up to your winner of a boyfriend. based loosely on the Sunderland vs Plymouth Argyle match and it’s (fictional) aftermath.

You sat patiently with the other wags for the majority of the first half. Your boyfriend was on the bench and so was his mate Chrissy. There were yellow cards thrown, One at your boys in red, and two at the opponents in green. Approximately one every ten minutes. You pulled your Sunderland scarf a bit tighter and sighed. To you, the match was plain and boring. You adored football, even teams other than Sunderland, but if it was Sunderland, your Jobe better be playing. A few minutes after Phillips earned his yellow, you heard cheers and cries erupt from the Stadium of Light. Everyone around you looked disappointed. Plymouth Argyle had scored. As you stared at the number nine on Hardie’s back, You felt it taunting you. That should be a red jersey, with a number 7 that read ‘JOBE’. If only were that easy.

Relief came for you as the ref blew his halftime whistle, reminding you your boyfriend still had forty five minutes to go out and prove himself.

You expected the manager to have him walk out onto the field, and start the remaining forty five, but he didn’t. Your sighs grew louder wondering when your man would get out there on the field.

seven minutes passed and you joined in with the roar of fans, as Roberts moved with the ball, you could tell if he passed it to Ekwah he would score. And he did, equalizing it for the two teams. You cheered for the Jobe-less Sunderland, wishing it had been your Jobe who scored the equalizer.

Seven more minutes passed and Clarke sank a second into the back of the net giving Sunderland an advantage over the visitors. It was like someone was winking at you with the number seven and everything associated with it. Good luck, Jobe. Jobe. Jobe is the number seven. You were sure in seven minutes his manager was going to sub him in. You were sure.

At the 65’ minute mark, two minutes before your seven minute timer would go off, Jobe was subbed in along with Chrissy in exchange for Abdoullah, and Pierre.

So, maybe I was wrong, about the seven minute thing but who cares, he's in now, you thought to yourself. You smiled as he ran up and down the field. as your timer begins to alert you, you see Neil make an amazing pass to Jobe and him just put that ball away in the corner.

You cheer so hard for him, yelling “That’s my boy!” and he celebrates with his teammates before turning to your section and blowing a few kisses. You begin to blush and the wags around you laugh and poke a bit of fun.

The rest of the game flew by, the result remaining where Jobe had left it. 3-1. You made your way to wait for the boys to shower. As you waited, Keeley, Alex Pritchard’s partner came up to you and talked with you about plans for the night and how they were all going out to a bar. You told her you’d run the idea past Jobe and she thanked you.

As he walked out to go see you the fresh-faced Jobe couldn’t help but smile. You ran to him and he picked you up and spun you around.

“I’m so proud of you! That was amazing Jobeee!” you exclaimed.

He grinned cheekily and tilted his head.

“You think so?” he asked.

You laughed and kissed his cheek as he put you down.

“I think some of the guys and their partners are going out for drinks if we want to join them,” Jobe said.

“Oh yeah, Keeley mentioned something yeah.”

“lets go out with them yeah?” he asks.

“Sure,” you reply as you leave to his car hand in hand.

Jobe and you make your way inside a bar close to the outskirts of the city. You see it’s been mostly cleared so the lot of you could hang out there without many disturbances.

You sat between Keeley and Jobe drinking just a club soda with lime since you didnt feel like drinking.

After a few hours and meters of seperation from Jobe, you began to get tired.

You crept into Jobes lap and cuddled into his neck with your eyes closed. His cologne was as intoxicating as alcohol to you and you breathed it in like it was your oxygen.

He rocked you back and forth humming and your ear was pressed to his chest listening to his heartbeat as it steadily pounded.

He kissed your hair and you smiled.

“baby, im so proud of you.” you said.

He laughed and picked you up bridal style, putting you in the car to bring you home

————————————————————————

that’s it!

a/n - I turned off anon requests bc literally the same person is using it over and over again for the same request and also left rude ones so i’d rather know who they came from. Requests are open but not anon… In due time i will turn anon back on. dw. Thanks for the understanding

thanks for reading! leave comments, like and follow! thank youu!

[happy74827]

Loosing Control

[Gideon Graves x Female!Reader]

Synopsis: Your love is a thing of magic. It's strong and apparently real and Gideon doesn't quite know how to deal with it.

WC: 2489

Category: Slight Lime/Spice {Gideon’s POV}

I’m actually surprised that so many people love my Gideon fics. The AMOUNT of anons I’ve suddenly started to receive this past week just because of this man is astronomical and I’m totally here for it!! (Also this gif got me feeling all types of things 🫣)

『••✎••』

Gideon Graves was at a loss for words. He didn't know what he had expected from this meeting, but it certainly wasn't this. He wasn't exactly in a position to be calling anyone out on the carpet, so to speak, but it had been at least an hour since you had burst into the office—pounding on the door, demanding to be let in—and Gideon had done nothing to stop you. Instead, he sat on his sofa, staring at you in silence. He'd already known you would be upset. He didn't need you to tell him that.

"Look," he said.

Gideon Graves was a genius. He knew that. His ability to multitask and think fast on his feet had gotten him far in his career and had garnered him numerous accolades and awards, from the Pulitzer to the Nobel Prize. And yet he hadn't expected you.

He wasn't sure what he had expected. You had been his assistant for nearly five years now. Gideon had made it clear from the beginning that he was not interested in anything more than a professional relationship between the two of you, but that didn't mean he hadn't thought about it. There was just something about you. The way your mouth moved when you were speaking. The way you stood so close to him in the mornings that he could smell the soap on your skin and the coffee on your breath.

"Just give me a minute," he said.

You blinked at him. "What?"

Gideon stood up and paced the room, adjusting his glasses and running his hands through his hair.

"There are so many things I want to say, but they all seem like the wrong things," he said. "I've never really been good with words."

You pressed your hand to your lips, shaking your head. "No, no, I get it. It's my fault. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have come here like this."

"You're not making this any easier for me, you know."

"No, I—I know." You drew your hand away, and your face flushed. You sat on the edge of the sofa, pulling your knees to your chest. "You don't have to make excuses for me or anything. I know I just barged in here."

"You always do that," Gideon said. He leaned his hip against the edge of his desk, resting his weight on his elbow. "You've been my assistant for five years now and you never knock."

You smiled. "You told me not to. You said I was always allowed to come into your office without knocking."

Gideon shrugged. He had been trying to get you out of his hair, to be completely honest. You had been such a nuisance—so nosy and needy and persistent—and yet he found himself drawn to you. He never meant for things to go this far. He was a lot of things, but unprofessional was not one of them.

He wasn't sure why you had come here. What you had possibly thought you were going to accomplish. Gideon Graves did not feel. Not in the way other people did. He could love, sure, but it wasn't in the traditional way. He could want and need and desire. But he wasn't capable of love. He hadn't loved his mother. He hadn't loved his father, though he had always been fond of the man.

Gideon had not loved you. Not at first. In fact, you had been an irritation, a nuisance. And yet, as time went on and you had learned to read him better, to anticipate his needs and desires, your presence became comforting. He liked being with you. He enjoyed listening to your voice, the way you laughed and smiled, and how you always looked so pleased with yourself, no matter how small the task you had completed.

"You have to understand," he said, "I'm not..."

Gideon searched your eyes. You were beautiful, he realized. You were soft and warm and kind, and he had never really thought of you as anything more than an assistant, but there was something about you now, something that made you look different. He couldn't quite explain it.

You were staring at him, your gaze fixed on his face.

Gideon cleared his throat. "You need to know what you're getting yourself into before we go any further."

Your brows drew together. "What do you mean?"

"I'm a broken man," he said, holding his hand in front of his face. He ran his fingers through his hair, tugging at the ends. "I can't promise you anything; I'm not... I’m not good at this sort of thing. You have to know that."

You tilted your head to one side, studying his face. He could see the worry in your expression. Gideon had seen that look before so many times. His father had given him that same look when Gideon had first told him he wanted to go to college. His mother had given him that same look when he had decided to move to Toronto alone. Even his own reflection in the mirror had looked at him with that same worried expression when Ramona had left him.

You looked at him as though you were afraid of him, but you didn't speak. You just looked at him, waiting.

"I don't know what I'm doing," he said, "and I can't promise that this will end up working out. It never has before, and it probably won't this time, either."

"Is this about Ramona?" you asked, your voice soft. "Is that what this is about?"

"No," Gideon said quickly. "That's in the past. That was... I was young and foolish."

"You weren't young," you said with a laugh. "I was literally there when you made the whole league thing. Then you got your ass—no offense—kicked by Pilgrim and that girl with the beautiful scarf.”

Gideon had never talked to anyone about that moment. He didn't talk about his failures, at least not when they were that severe. Even he had to admit that getting his ass kicked had been a bit of an embarrassing moment for him.

"Yeah, let’s not talk about that,"

You laughed again. "You know what this sounds like to me? It sounds like you're trying to talk me out of being with you."

"Well..." Gideon frowned, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. "I guess that's true."

Your expression softened. "That's because you think it's not going to work out, isn't it? Better not to try than fail, right?"

Gideon didn't speak.

You moved across the room, crossing the floor until you were standing in front of him. You placed your hands on his chest, sliding them up the sides of his neck and cradling his face in your hands. You were looking at him, searching his eyes.

"I know it's hard for you to trust people," you said, "but I've been by your side for five years, and you don’t need to use a chip for assurance that this will work."

“Wait a minute, hold on—”

You leaned into him, kissing his lips. You smiled against his mouth, giggling softly. You were kissing him. You were kissing him. You were actually kissing him, and Gideon didn't know what to do about it.

You pulled away and kissed him again, harder this time. You moved against him, pushing him back so that he fell against the edge of his desk. His heart was pounding in his chest. You had your hands on his shoulders now, pushing his coat from his body.

For once, Gideon didn’t have control, and he wasn't sure how he felt about that. He liked being in charge. It was what he was used to. He knew what he was doing and how to get things done. Yet, here he was, watching his jacket drop to the floor, feeling your hands on his body.

“Do you still think you need that chip of yours?” you asked, pressing your lips to his ear.

Gideon sighed, tilting his head back as you kissed his neck and his jaw. You were undoing his tie now, letting it drop to the floor.

“Listen, I had a perfectly good reason for that chip. Ramona, she was...I had a lot going on with her, and it just made sense at the time, but then—shit—I didn't mean—I didn't—this is—it's really complicated, okay?”

You were kissing him as he spoke. You kissed the corner of his mouth. You kissed his neck and collarbone. Gideon had to remind himself to breathe. He had to remind himself how to move. How to think. How to do anything.

"You really are all over the place," you murmured.

Gideon glanced at you, panting due to the lack of oxygen in his system. His eyes were full of you, the shape of your face, the sound of your voice. The curve of your nose. Your smile. Your lips.

You had your hands on his shoulders, that same soft, pleading look in your eyes. You looked at him as though you wanted something, and it was hard for him to deny you, but it wasn't that simple. It never was.

"I can't promise you anything," he said.

You nodded. "I know."

"I'm not the easiest person to be around. I don't even know how I'm supposed to...to..." He swallowed. "I just don't know how to do this."

You stepped away from him, taking your hands from his shoulders. You seemed to know the right thing to say. You always knew the right thing to say. "Don't worry about that right now."

Gideon turned from you. He needed to get a hold of himself. He couldn't be weak like this. He needed to be in control. He needed to focus.

"I need to get back to work," he said, rubbing his eyes with his hand. "We've been away for too long."

You stared at him for a moment. You seemed to be waiting for him to change his mind, but he didn't. He knew he needed to focus. He needed to do what he had always done. He needed to bury himself in work until it was all that consumed him, and there was nothing else to do but sleep and breathe.

"Okay," you said. “Okay, Gideon.”

He didn't look at you as you turned to go. You hadn't even given him a chance to ask you to stay. He couldn't look at you right now, so he didn't turn around as he heard you open the door, close it behind you, and leave.

You hadn't left him mentally, though. Not yet. He could still smell your perfume in the air. He could still see the shape of your body in the chair in front of his desk. He could hear the way you sighed, the way your voice had been soft when you had said his name.

Gideon needed to get back to work, but all he could think about was you. He didn't even know how he had managed to convince himself that it was a good idea to push you away. He did the opposite with Ramona, forcing her into his life until she was a part of him.

So why was it when you had actually wanted him, he had pushed you away?

It had never happened with anyone else, not like this.

Gideon reached up to his neck, touching the skin where your lips had been. It had only been a kiss, a simple touch, but he couldn't remember the last time someone had made him feel like this. You were so soft and kind and... beautiful.

He reached down for his fallen coat that you had tossed to the ground. He lifted it, carrying it to the back of the sofa. He picked up his tie, too, and placed it into the pocket of the jacket, folding it neatly.

There was so much he didn't understand about himself. There was so much he didn't know and would likely never know, but he knew how he felt about you. He could admit that to himself, at least, even if he couldn't admit it to you. Not yet.

“Idiot… Idiot.” Gideon groaned, burying his face in his hands. He sat down on the edge of the couch, falling onto his back. He stared up at the ceiling, his mind drifting back to you.

When Scott Pilgrim had won that battle against him, Gideon was left to wake up and realize that there was a whole world out there that he had no control over. It was a frightening thing for him to come to terms with, but there it was. The world was going on with or without him, and he couldn't change that.

You were there for him, though. You had always been there for him. You had been so soft and kind and gentle. His ego was completely shattered when Scott brought him to his knees, but you had been there for him, comforting him as he recovered emotionally.

And yet, that wasn't all you had done for him. You have helped him in so many ways since you started working with him. You were the perfect assistant—attentive, thorough, and never a bother. He could ask you to fetch anything for him, and you always had.

You also knew when he wanted to be left alone and respected his boundaries. He had to be very careful around people. If you use the wrong words or the wrong tone of voice, everything could fall apart. And it had—it was—with Ramona.

Ramona. It still hurt to think about her, but he could admit that what he felt for you was far different than what he had ever felt for Ramona. What he had felt for Ramona had been a sort of hyperfocus. That was what he told himself anyway. She made him feel things that no one else ever had, but it had never been real. And Gideon knew the difference. Ramona wasn’t love; it was obsession.

You were love. You made him feel so... so human. He didn't want to get into the nitty-gritty details of that, but you made him feel alive. You made him feel real.

Gideon sat up and crossed the room. When he was stressed, or upset, or upset because he was stressed, he found himself pacing. It was one of the few that helped him focus. As he paced, he glanced at the door, staring at the knob as he imagined you coming back through it.

That’s it, he thought. He needed to do something. He needed to go after you to make things right. Make sure that you knew he was serious. Make sure that you know what was at stake here.

Gideon wasn't good with words, but he knew that he would figure out a way. Figuring out ways to fix things had never been a problem for him.

He was the smartest man in the world. How hard could it be?

God, I need to learn how to write actual endings instead of leaving everything open 😭😭

Conclusions are the bane of my existence istg

[faeriekit]

Health and Hybrids (XIII)👽👻💚

[I can't remember the original prompt posters  for the life of me but here's a mashup between a cryptid!Danny, presumed-alien!Danny, dp x dc, and the prompt made the one body horror meat grinder fic.]

PART ONE is here PART TWOis here PART THREEis here PART FOUR is here and PART FIVE is here PART SIX is here and PART SEVEN is here PART EIGHT is here PART NINE is here PART TEN is here PART ELEVEN is here PART TWELVE is here and this is part thirteen??? Hello??

💚 Ao3 Is here for all parts

Where we last left off...

Trigger warnings for this story:  body horror | gore | post-dissection fic | dehumanization (probably) |  my nonexistent attempts at following DC canon. On with the show.

💚👻👽👻💚

…Bart doesn’t really do patience.

He doesn’t have to, so he doesn’t. Growing up in a world that wasn’t exactly real didn’t make for a real strong understanding of reality, or timing, or estimating how long something takes, or how long it would take a garden-variety human to complete a task.

He sits in the chair. He kicks his legs.

So. Bart doesn’t really do patience. When he wants to make his way through a book, it takes a few seconds to read through the whole thing at his standard pace. It’s great! Finishing the Troy Dodson series had taken ten minutes. He watched the full set of movies on quadruple-fast mode in about half an hour, and then still had the time to show up to the tower for trivia with the team that afternoon. It had been Crash!

And when—when Bart had wanted to learn how to cook, he went through half the recipes in Ma Kent’s copy of The Delights of Cooking in two days flat. And that was with missions. He even taught himself how to prepare squirrel from the back of the book! It tasted…uh, weird, sure, but that might have been his substitution of Caribbean jerk seasoning for garlic powder.

Patience is… Well, when Bart is on a mission and he has to wait for everyone to go at a human-comprehensible speed when laying out the plan of action, that’s patience. Sometimes he jumps the gun a little, maybe—but usually it all works out!

And when Bart has to wait for Barry and Wally to be free and off work for their day jobs, because they’re adults with real world things they have to do and Bart’s just—well, he’s—he tries to be patient! And he distracts himself with other things, and he takes the time to explore the world and get in new experiences he couldn’t have before in his own little virtual world, and he tries new things, and he eats new foods, and then Wally or Barry shoot him a text or ring him up and then he’s back in town in seconds anyway!

…But there isn’t a way to speed this along.

The doctor with the cute cat lanyard and Wonder Woman both have been trying to explain to Bart how bad the damage is. But Bart can tell. He has eyes.

His friend is physical now, but he’s not…right. His face is caved in, like someone hit him really really hard, or someone gouged out the whole front face of his skull—Bart can’t see any red matter, but that’s because of the pulsing green sheath that’s covered all of his friend’s open injuries.

And there’s a lot of green.

That means he’s super injured. Bart can see most of his glowing green not-face through the window of the metal tube his friend is sleeping in.

It’s not just his missing face, his crooked jaw, or his barely-moving chest, or his green-soaked fingers anyway; there’s open pits in his chest, slathered in green goo that shifts when he breathes and glows just a little in the odd light of the medical wing, lumpy and half-scarred from stitches that were sloppily applied. Utilitarian.

Tim told Bart that the sutures were probably meant more to prevent extra clean-up in a lab setting than to keep Bart’s friend alive.

…Bart doesn’t really want to think about that.

There are lime-tinged scrapes and scars across and around his friend's hands and up his arms, verdant-veined legs that aren’t exactly the right shape and orientation legs should be, crevasses in his stomach, his chest, against his collarbone, and the clawed-out pit where a face should be.

All green. So green. Like grass… Like the Earth, when Bart comes home from space.

It’s scary. It’s frightening.

Wonder Woman gave Bart a hug and said it would be okay when the Medical team started to apply white-swathed casts around misaligned legs, and Bart almost cried. The medical team thinks the green is his friend’s body working on healing him. That Bart’s friend will be okay.

Bart lets everyone say comforting things, because it’s kind when everybody’s kind. But Bart’s been an experiment in healing the unhealable and he knows as much as anyone else does that there’s simply no way to know if his friend will be okay.

But his friend isn’t alone like he was. Bart makes sure of it.

So he sits at his friend’s bedside, eats a granola bar, kicks his feet in the stiff chair Medical had to offer him, and Bart practices his patience.

By the end of this, he might even be good at it.

[mncxbe]

Hello

Something similar to the post where Chuuya dragged Akutagawa out to a night club/bar, however Reader insists they go with them (keep an eye on Chuuyas drunk ass) and basically Chuuya walks off, leaving reader alone with Akutagawa and Chuuya ends up talking a lot with a girl that by pure coincidence looks almost exactly like reader. So she's just sat there jealous, like even the bartender starts being like "uh.. You okay, this is the 15th shot of vodka in the row—" or she just completely ignored the guy behind that just tried to grab her wirst (she ends up riding Chuuya for hours on end back at home overstimming both of them—) (maybe that reader and Akutagawa have a sibling like relationship)

Omg yes I absolutely love this idea anon and I had so much fun writing this. I also got a bit silly with it hehe. Hope you enjoy♡

°☆○

9:30♡

𝑪𝒉𝒖𝒚𝒂 𝒙 𝒇𝒆𝒎!𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓

𝑮𝒆𝒏𝒓𝒆: smut♡

"What ya doing darling? Really think I'm gonna let you cum this easily after what you did tonight?" you slurred your words as you bounced up and down your boyfriend's cock, manicured nails digging deep into his shoulders.

Beneath you, Chuya let out a low groan. "Please baby just need to cum I'm sorry I'm sorry"

Your slender fingers travelled to the nape of his neck, entangling in his scarlet locks. "Well too fucking bad" you said as you swiftly tugged at his hair, ripping a moan from his parted lips.

What was supposed to be a fun night at the club with your boyfriend and best friend ended up being a complete shitshow. Within half an hour from entering the club Chuya got drunk and vanished in the crowd. A few minutes later you spotted him lounging on one of the red velvet round sofas, chatting with a woman.

"Do you fucking see that?" you asked Akutagawa, who was mindlessly gazing around the room. He's always hated clubs; with their roaring music that blasted through the speakers, sending vibrations through his entire body and the sweaty swarm of people that never ceased dancing.

"Huh, see what?"

You pointed in Chuya's direction and he followed your finger, his silvery eyes landing on your boyfriend.

"Oh damn. That's awkward" he said, squinting his eyes. "She kinda looks like you tho."

You took a moment to examine the woman; indeed, she had fairly the same built as you and the shade of her silky hair was alike yours.

"I can't believe this" you huff as you grabbed Akutagawa's arm and dragged him towards the bar. "Come on drink with me"

"Aren't you gonna talk to him about..?"

"Fuck no. If he wants to cheat I won't bother to stop him" you chimed in.

Taking a seat on one of the high chairs at the glowing bar, you ordered ten shots of tequila. The bartender raised a brow in surprise upon hearing your order but hurriedly poured the light-gold liquor in small glasses, topping them with a perfectly cut slice of lime.

He placed the ten shots between you and Akutagawa with a little smile.

"Oh thank you sir. Put them on Chuya Nakahara's tab, will you?" you cooed, flashing him a sweet smile before dividing the drinks between you and Akutagawa. "Here you go. Five and five. Cheers!"

With a grace that only comes from practice you downed the first shot, taking a bite of lemon right after. Your body shook a little.

"Wow that was strong" you laughed, urging Akutagawa to drink his shot too.

Three minutes after all the glasses were empty; your glassy gaze slid to the place where your boyfriend was, still talking to that woman. His brows were slighly furrowed, eyes half-lidded as he leaned in to whisper something to his companion. The girl chuckled lightly and pat his shoulder with an exaggerated saccharine gesture.

"Tch... Bartender! Another round please and a negroni."

Akutagawa's eyes narrowed in your direction.

"Hey I think that's enough for tonight"

"Nonsense. Just five more each and then we can stop. We're having fun!"

~

Ten tequila shots and a cocktail later your head started spinning. The flashing lights that danced around the room only made your headache worse, a feeling of nausea taking over you. Akutagawa left a few minutes ago so you were all by yourself.

Chuya was still talking to the woman and they were closer now, his hand loosely sliding up and down her tight. A wave of jealousy washed over you when the woman leaned in, placing a kiss at the corner of Chuya's mouth.

"Oh fuck this. This is enough"

You got off the chair and marched through the crowd, shoving away a man who attempted to take you to dance.

"What the hell are you doing, Chuya?" you asked in a low voice, arms crossed over your chest.

The man shook upon hearing your voice. "Huh? What?" he slurred as his gaze moved from you to the other woman.

"Wait... you're not my girlfriend" he eventually concluded, pointing at the girl next to him. A loud slap landed across his face.

"You didn't tell me you had someone asshole" she screamed in a high pitched tone before getting off the sofa and disappearing in the crowd.

Chuya held a hand to his reddened cheek, his skin hot under his touch. "Sorry baby I'm really drunk right now." he said as he got off the couch, struggling to stand straight.

"Nah you don't say" you spat, gripping his wrist as you pulled him towards the exit.

~

Half an hour later you were back home, hips grinding against his as you pushed your boyfriend closer to his high. His head was thrown back, lips slightly parted as little whimpers and lewd sounds fell off them; tufts of his red hair clinged to his damp forehead.

"Please baby I'm sorry" he moaned lowly, eyes shut tight.

"You don't fucking say." you utter between ragged breaths, riding him at a relentless pace; You felt his dick pulsate again and suddenly ceased your motion, hovering your hips just above his length. Your boyfriend let out a huff at the loss of touch; his hands gripped your hips in attempt to pull you onto him again.

"I'm so close love it's been too long. I can't anymore."

"I also waited while you talked with that woman tonight so stop bitching around."

His deep blue eyes met yours again. They were glossy and blurry, tears threatening to spill at any moment.

"I'm so sorry my love. You know I'd never cheat on you. You're my one and only and I'm so so sorry I was so drunk I didn't realize..."

You instantly lowered your hips onto his, causing him to groan.

"Please angel please." he moaned, his desperate sounds causing a knot to form inside you.

"Promise me you'll never do this again" you said between sobs of pleasure.

His expression suddenly softened and he cupped your face with his calloused hands, gently brushing his thumb over your lower lip.

"My love I'll never do this again. Never gonna make you feel like this. Please forgive me and let me make it up to you." His words were so sweet they caused you to squeeze tightly around his length.

"Mm come on baby just cum on me. Make yourself feel good." he stuttered, gripping your hips as his nimble lips trailed feathery kisses along your neck.

Slowly but surely the two of you reached your high, panting. Your head came to rest on his heaving chest; his arms snaking around your body.

"I love you Y/N. Please forgive me." he whispered softly, your name falling off his lips like a prayer.

"Of course I forgive you Chu. I love you too much to stay mad at you."

He chuckled lightly, the tips of his digits gently tracing loose cricles along the expanse of your back; goosebumps rising on your wet skin. The alcohol lulled the two of you in a deep slumber and you fell asleep entangled with one another, your heartbeats syncing as you breathed in the same slow rhythm.

[rottenblur]

After hours|J.PEÑA

Javier Peña x reader

Summary: Going to Colombia with your friends sounds exciting right? Only if the whole reason you were here, wasn’t to be their translator. One night they drag you to a bar, you’re downing shots by yourself when a certain brown eyed man approached you. When you started flirting with him, you didn’t think you’d be back against a stall door, moaning his name. 2k ish

WARNINGS:SMUT!!! Unprotected p in v (wrap it up yall) degradation for like two seconds, my terrible spainish, dirty talking, public p in v (bathroom) alcohol, head f receiving, fingering f receiving

“he reaches down hikes up your dress, and pulls your panties to the side as he gets on his knees. You can feel him breathing against the bare exposed skin “fuck all this for me? So fuckin wet” ”

Walking in the crowded streets of Medellín, you and your friend group search for a night club with decent music bumping out of it. After about five minutes of walking around, your friends finally find a club they like. Entering the loud, packed and sweaty night club you head straight to the bar as your friends run quickly off to the dance floor, dancing to songs they didnt know, nor understand.

You were the most understanding of spainish out of the group and that was honestly a insult the whole language. Sitting at the bar in a stool closest to the wall, slightly muffling the loud, upbeat, club toons. You order a round of tequila shots for yourself, lighting a cigarette, sticking it between your lips, and inhaling.

Looking down at your bare legs adjusting your tight, sparkly, black, slip dress. Puffing away at your cigarette, creating a cloud around your body, as your shots arrive.

You thank the bartender, reaching into your purse and paying him. Putting your cigarette in the ash tray, downing your shot then sucking on a lime slice.

By your fourth and final one, youre on your third cigarette, the music sounds better and you’re seriously considering finding a attractive stranger, just to grind on them.

Looking down the bar, at the girls with their pretty dresses, paired with fruity drinks. The men with their collared shirts and dark liquor, one about four stools down from you, catches your gaze. He gets up and starts walking over towards you, he stands next you leaning on the bar.

“Qué estás bebiendo, cariño?”(What are you drinking, baby?) He leans towards you, taking the cigarette from your lips, stealing a puff and smirking.

You finally check him out. Black shoes, tight blue jeans, a tan button down with three buttons undone revealing his chest, sweat clinging to scattered hair.

His face is terribly handsome, his hair sticking to his tanned forehead, a thick moustache covering his top lip, the smirk that makes you wanna squeeze your tighs tightly together. Youre blaming the alcohol for the blush on your cheeks right now.

“Tequila, y tú?”(and you?) You wince at your terrible spainish accent praying it wont turn him away, he now takes a seat in the stool next to yours, angling his knees towards yours.

“Whiskey.” He takes a gulp, his ice clanking in his glass, as he lifts it to his lips. Laying the empty glass onto the bar counter, he looks at you. “Whats your name, baby?” Your face fulls with relief.

Thank god. No more shitty spainish has to be embarrassingly said to this poor man, it was bad enough that calling it “rusty” would be a insult, you’re pretty sure that the only reason your friends brought you on this trip was for your knowledge, even with the lack of said knowledge. They were too busy focusing on all the clubs they were gonna hit.

You tell him your name then ask him, “was it my accent that gave it away?” You cover your face with your hands, he pulls them away holding them in his “Or its your tolerance for that tequila you’ve been downing.” He laughs, you watch the way his dark brown eyes soften, practically disappearing when he laughs.

“Mines Javier.” He sounded proud of his name, it was meaningful to him. His eyes drop to your knees, slowing panning up your thighs, he drops his hand to the bottom of your thigh, you gasp.

His large tanned hand travels up your thigh slowly, occasionally looking up to your face to see it screw up the further up he gets. He stops at the top, moving up the hem of your dress, then dragging his hand to your inner thigh right on your tattoo. Rubbing slow circles then adding a squeeze, he smirks at you.

That tipped you over the edge, you squeeze your thighs together, begging for some attention to the aching in your panties.

He grazed the wet spot on your panties causing you to rut into his hand, then he removed his hand completely. “Fuck. Your spainish is better than your ability to hide how much you want me right now, cariño.” You almost whimper at his words before you can respond, he’s already calling the bartender over to order more tequila shots. Fuck you didnt need them. He was intoxicating enough.

The bartender lays four shots of tequila paired with a bowl of sliced lime, Javier pays him and pulls them closer. He slides two over to you, two for himself “No lime this time, cant be a bitch bout it.” He says squeezing your leg, you gasp sarcastically.

He raises his shot glass, you follow his lead lifting yours up and clinking it with his. You both bringing them to tap the bar before downing it, you cough and shake your head looking over at javier hes laughing at you with a much more calm reaction to the burning liquor.

Before you can address your struggle, hes already reaching reaching for the second one. “Vamos, hermosa!”(come on, beautiful)You pick up the glass, before you cheers with him your favourite song starts playing.

You down your shot “OHHHH SHITTTTTT.” You grab javiers hand, hop off your stool and start pulling him off his stool. He downs his shot, slamming the glass on the wooden bar, letting you pull him towards the dance floor. “What are you doing.”

He questions as you use your whole body weight, to pull him towards you “you gotta dance with me, i wont dissapoint you!”

He pulls you close to him by your waist. Feeling the music, you turn around facing away from Javier, you start to sway your hips to the music.

He holds your hips pushing your ass flush against his crouch, you move your hips more, still on beat. You swear you here a groan fall out of him followed by a quiet “Mierda.”(shit)

You wrap your arms around his neck pushing your back right against His chest. You can feel the tightness in his jeans on your ass, you can feel his throbbing and rutting when you sway your hips a certain way for god sake.

He takes a long sigh then spins you around, takes your face into his hold, and kisses you. A kiss of desperation, hes been holding it in all night, his mouth taste of cigarettes and whiskey. His tounge passes through your lips and teasing your own. He pulls away “fuck you for making me want you so bad hermosa.”

He grabs your wrist before you can reply pulling a gasp out of you, he pulls you like you once pulled him onto the dance floor towards the bathrooms. Your face heats up knowing exactly whats bout to happen,

He pushes the door open, scanning for anyone else, you lucked out there was no one.

He finds the cleanest stall pulling you in and against the door, it shakes as he presses up against you, grinding himself, while kissing you. “Are you clean?”

You nod “and on the pill.” That pulls a grin out of him, he reaches down hikes up your dress, and pulls your panties to the side as he gets on his knees. You can feel him breathing against the bare exposed skin “fuck all this for me? So fuckin wet”

he licks his lips then spits on your mound, attaching his lips this pulls a whimper out of you. His tounge draws experienced circles on your clit, dropping down to lick slit to clit every so often.

When your back starts arching, on the stall door Javier mutters something against you, feeling the vibrations of his words, but not hearing them.

He looks up at you with his sweet brown eyes, your face is screwed up with pleasure.

Keeping the eye contact, he lifts your leg placing it on his shoulder then, plunges two of his thick tanned digits into you, first gathering some slick, mouth still attached. This pushes you over the edge, as he pumps the length in out of you, curling his fingers to hit your sweet spot with ease.

You throw your head back letting out a moan “fuck javi.” You feel him smile on you, he quickens his pace, his fingers filling you up, mouth leaving no drop go to waste. You feel your orgasm approaching, squeezing Javier’s fingers like your life depends on it, he pulls them out and stands up.

“Fuck, you’re delicious baby.” He kisses your neck and unbuckles his jeans, releasing his throbbing need. You almost gasp at its appearance, its fucking beautiful, the perfect length and girth.

The veins popping out, the clean patch of hair above his base, you stare at it almost drooling.

He lets off your neck with a pop, you already know he marked you up. He spits on his hand and starts pumping himself, he pulls the tiny straps on your dress down.

Rubbing your shoulders then pulling the front down and his mouth opens. “Oh cariño, such pretty tits.” He takes a handful then attaches his mouth, sucking dark spots all over. A whimper slips out, forcing a groan out of him “Please javi, i need you.” You pull his face up, thats all that he needed to hear.

He grabs one of your legs placing it above his hip, rubbing the leaking tip on your wet folds. He looks up at you, placing a hand behind your head as he pushes the tip in.

You gasp as you feel just the tip entering, he pauses then pushes his full length in you the head hitting your cervix, making your knees buckle.

He moves his hand down to your hip keeping you up, “If you’re gonna dress like a slut, you’ll get fucked like one.” He smiles slamming back into you.

Your mind is blank. The sounds of groans, grunts, whimpers and moans is all the words being spoken other than javiers occasional dirty mumblings.

“Fuck, youre so fucking tight”

“This pussy was made for me”

You throw your head back, feeling your second orgasm approaching, all you can focus on is the sound of skin slapping together, and the wetness of the two of you connecting.

Javier knows it before you can collect your thoughts enough to tell him “Youre choking my dick up baby, is this sweet, little pussy coming for me? So fucking easy, baby. She needed me.” That threw you over the edge.

You flutter all around him, squeezing him so tight he can barely move. He fucks you through your orgasm, shortly after he cums inside of you, filling you up.

He pulls out, keeping your leg on his hip watching him leak out of you. You can feel yourself pulsing around nothing, already missing him filling you up.

“So fucking pretty.” He kisses your cheek, tucks himself away, adjusts your dress, finishing with a smirk.

You smile back at him fucked dumb. “Thank you for that-“, he opens the stall door walking you out of the bathroom and out of the club. A arm tightly wrapped around your waist, keeping your legs from buckling from under you.

“That was seriously the best sex I’ve ever had.” He smiles “Doesnt feel like you get much of it baby.” He slaps your ass, you nudge him and laugh

“Need a ride?” You nod, your friends haven’t noticed you were gone by now you’ll be fine ditching them. He walks you to his car, your eyes go wide. “Youre a fed? Only feds have this nice of a car here. Did i just fuck a fed.” You say, giggling.

He opens the car door for you, you jump in. He walks over to the driver side, putting the key in and starting the car. “This “fed” just gave you the best fuck of your life time, dont be bitching.”

He was right. He pulls up in front of your hotel, you’re almost sad you have to say goodbye. He takes a pen from his cup holder, clears his throat then, messily writes a number on your arm “Call me. Early morning, sorry cariño.” You smile, lean over, give him a kiss goodnight and hop out.

You may have leaked all over the seat the whole ride there, at least he wont forget you?

my masterlist

AN! JAVI FIC???? for once not joel. I started this yesterday morning since i feel theres a lack of javi fics? Excuse there spainish i barely speak it myself, i provided translations! Please if you speak spainish message me so i can fix it.

[sc0tters]

Moments of Awe | Kirby Dach

summary: you and Kirby are at the same party but this time there are feelings involved.

song: Fuck Up The Friendship- Leah Kate

request: yes/no

warnings: mentions of drinking

word count: 854

authors note: every time I wrote Kirby I get on thinking about that animated character. This was crap but I spent the day writing it and this is somehow the best we could find.

Kirby watched as you let your finger tips wrap around your can of seltzer.

You had both been drinking since pres and now it was hours into the party. He knew it was wrong to think of you in the way that he was. The way his palms grew sweaty at the sight of your legs in your shorts as you danced along to the music with some of your female friends. Your laugh in between the horrible attempts to do your own versions of karaoke as you all sang along to the song that were blaring over the speakers of the club.

It should have been a crime to look at him the way you did with that piece of lime wrapped around your lips “why does he keep looking at you like that?” One of your friends asked as she titled her head in Kirby’s direction.

His eyes hadn’t left you, hadn’t left your body since Cole started talking to you forty five minutes ago. The conversation only lasted fifteen minutes or so because Kirby wasn’t counting of course. You grinned as the American had said something stupid that made you wrap your hand around his arm. It brought up thoughts and feelings that Kirby had never imagined he would feel.

You let your lips form a pout as you locked eyes with your best friend “I don’t know,” you mumbled as you felt your knees grow weak at the way his eyes almost undressed you.

Your friend smiled “go talk to him,” she mumbled as she softly placed her hand on your back to give you a soft push.

Kirby smiled as his eyes lit up when you smoothed out the ends of your shirt “hi doll,” he mumbled as he reached his arms out so that you could sit on his lap.

That was something that was common for you two. Usually at parties you were attached at the hip, both teams that Kirby had been with got the chance to see how you were attached at the hip to your childhood neighbour.

Your hand went to the nape of his neck “what’s going through your mind?” You asked as you smiled.

It was a sight that made him want to curl up into a ball and pass out “just thinking about you,” he confessed as he wrapped his hand around your thigh.

A giggle left your lips “me?” You cocked your head as you hated how kissable his lips look in that very moment “always about you,” Kirby seemed to share your thoughts as he let his fingers softly pull at your chin.

Before you had a chance to respond as your cheeks turned pink, one of the boys called Kirby because they wanted him to meet.

What irritated you was the way that Kirby placed you next to him before he sent you an apologetic look as he sighed getting pulled away from you when the boys wrapped their arm around his shoulder.

You spent the next few hours with the girls as they all swore that Kirby clearly had feelings for you “you ready to go doll?” It was tradition that Kirby would drop you off at home after a night out, part of it was because he wanted to make sure that you got back safely but the other part was him loving the fact that he was the last person you would see before you went to bed, because there was nothing you hated more than talking to strangers after dark.

Your playful mood came back as you nodded “of course,” you held your hand out for the boy to hold onto in your efforts to combat the Montreal autumn night time breeze.

The car ride back to yours was quiet as it seemed the moment from earlier on in the day was now a bust as you had both sobered up and didn’t have the atmosphere to egg you on.

Kirby’s arm never left your shoulders on the walk back up to your apartment as he watched you rest your head on his shoulder until you got to your door “you want to come in?” You offered as you spun around unaware of the fact that he was so close behind you.

If you were taller your lips would have been touching but given the height difference, Kirby instead had his lips hovering dangerously close to your forehead “always,” occasionally you’d invite him in if he didn’t have places to be in the morning, each time he’d say yes.

Despite all of the drinks that you had already had you realised you were going to need another one if you were going to keep your hands to yourself “what you thinking about doll?” Your silence made it easy for him to pick up on the fact that your mind was moving quicker than the rest of you.

Your sigh was noted “just something big that I don’t know if I should do.” You explained as your eyes moved from his to his mouth and back again.

“I think you should just go for it.”

[asunsetgrace16]

✧ 𝗖𝗨𝗧𝗢𝗙𝗙𝗦 𝗔𝗡𝗗 𝗧𝗔𝗡𝗟𝗜𝗡𝗘𝗦⎥𝗕𝗖92

Pairing: Brandt Clarke x fem!reader

Summary: It is a good thing that Canadians find California warm enough for shorts and swimsuits for the majority of the year because Brandt likes nothing better than to come home to find you in a bikini top and cutoff shorts.

Warnings: none. Just a flirty, hopelessly in love Brandt Clarke

Notes: Headcanon: "thanks the L.A. weather for getting to see you in bikini tops and shorts for most of the year"

masterlist⎥ navigation

Word Count: 1k

70 degrees and sunny in the middle of March. A far cry from growing up in Northern Ontario. Y/N and Ines Kopitar, who has taken Y/N under her wing as Brandt gets more and more games with the Kings, are lounging by the pool at Ines’ house. 

“God, I can’t believe it is this nice out. I keep expecting a blizzard any time. I can definitely get used to this.” Y/N says, eyes shaded by sunglasses.

“Yeah, I’d imagine Northern Ontario is much colder this time of year.” Ines replies, a smile gracing her face. 

“But I am not one to complain.” They clink their glasses of margarita, share a laugh, and the conversation flows on. Before long, however, Y/N gets a text from Brandt, saying that they are on their way back from practice.

“The boys are on their way back.” She announces. Ines checks her watch.

“It is that time. You two will stay for supper?” She asks. They gather their towels and books, making their way inside.

“Of course. What were you planning?”

“I was thinking fish tacos, something light. The boys can snack on something before if they need.”

“I can make a dip, if you like. They can bend the nutrition plan rules a little.” Y/N offers, pushing her sunglasses up on her head as they step inside.

“That would be great, actually. I’ve got the recipe down pat, so I can get it going fast. We should be ready to eat an hour after the boys get back.” Ines directs Y/N to the fridge, and they start gathering all the ingredients and supplies to make dinner. Y/N pulls out a saucepan and tosses thinly sliced onions in with butter to caramelize. Ines pulls mangoes, red onion, jalapenos, cilantro, lime juice, and red pepper to make a salsa. While the onions cook down, Y/N blends an avocado, some jalapeno, and lime to make a sauce, before mixing together the base for the dip. The fish is battered and frying when the Anze calls out their arrival.

“In, we’re home. It smells fantastic in here.” He and Brandt stop short in the doorway. They wear identical looks on their faces, as both Y/N and Ines simply pulled on a pair of cutoff denim shorts after the afternoon in the sun, leaving their bikini tops on. He swings around to the stove and captures Ines for a kiss, “What creation are you making tonight?”

“Fish tacos and Y/N is making a dip.” Ines answers, flipping a piece of fish.

Brandt goes over to Y/N, mimicking Anze. He kisses her neck. With warm hands on her hips he says in his ever playful manner, “You look even better than the food does, baby. Is that french onion dip?”

Y/N laughs, her head is back resting on his shoulder and teases, “Yes it is. Not even five minutes and you are already thinking about food?”

“Hey, you can’t blame a guy, no one makes it better than you do.” Brandt swipes some of the dip, “Besides,” he whispers in Y/N’s ear, “It would be rude to leave early, as much as I want to.”

A shiver runs down her spine at the silent promise. She swats him with the towel draped over her shoulder and sets him and Anze to making the mango salsa for the tacos. Somewhere, Brandt procures a speaker and starts a random playlist playing. A playful energy fills the kitchen, and a towel war breaks out. The group eats standing around the kitchen island, the conversation never ceasing. As the saying goes, many hands make light work as the dishes are washed and put away, leftovers tucked safely in the fridge for tomorrow’s lunch. 

Anze lights a fire outside when the sun begins its descent. They move outside with hoodies on and quilts bundled in their arms. Almost as an afterthought, Anze sprints back inside and grabs marshmallows, chocolate, and graham crackers to make s’mores. Both Y/N and Ines crack a  yawn. The night is dark and a chill is settling in before Brandt and Y/N notice the time. 

“I guess it’s time to head out.” Brandt says, “Nice that we have an off-day tomorrow.”

“Yeah, it’s later than I thought. Thank you for dinner, as always. And the company. It was wonderful.” Y/N follows up, folding her borrowed blanket as she stands. Stretching, she yawns once again. 

“Oh any time. We like you guys. You restore some youthful energy.” Anze jokes.

“You’re not that old yet. You can still skate circles around half the league.” Brandt comments as they make their way inside. Goodbyes are said and Brandt’s hockey bag is loaded into the back of their vehicle. The late hour makes the drive home faster than usual. Y/N dozes off not long after buckling up. The moonlight streaming through the window throws shadows over her face, silvery highlights make her look so peaceful. It makes Brandt’s breath catch in his throat. He is so in love it hurts.

“C’mon sweetheart, we’re home.” Brandt murmurs, reaching over Y/N to unbuckle her seatbelt. She climbs out of the car and leans into him. The walk to their apartment is short.

“I think I could fall asleep standing up at this point,” She mumbles, face tucked into his shoulder as the door to their apartment is unlocked.

“Me too. I vote we get ready for bed as fast as we can, and then we can just fall into bed.”

Sounds like a plan.” They move quickly through their nighttime routines. Brushing teeth, washing faces, grabbing pajamas. He flicks off the big light and turns on the bedside lamps. Y/N tosses her hoodie out the open bathroom door and changes into more comfortable shorts. Denim is cute, but not all that comfortable to sleep in and certainly not her choice of sleepwear.

“Babe, can you come untie me? There’s a knot now and I can’t quite get it undone.” Y/N calls. He comes back into the bathroom and gets the knot out of her bikini top.

“You’ve got some tan lines, baby.” He kisses her shoulder.

“Hmmm. You can appreciate them tomorrow.”

[smokenskinny]

@thinnem2 @mynameisb3llahadid

Hey guys! I'm sorry for disappearing the past days... But I've made a small compilate of my favorite vegan high protein/low calorie meals. The instructions on how to make each dish are listed below the cut:

Disclaimer: all kinds of beans must be soaked in water for 8-12 hours before they're cooked. Throw out the water afterwards, as it contains toxins that make digestion harder.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

1- Tofu muffins

Herbs and spices I use: oregano, basil, chives, turmeric and chili powder

Preheat oven to 180°C or 356°F.

Add the chopped onions and a pinch of salt to a sauce pan and sauté them in a little bit of water until golden. Then, add the chopped garlic and let it cook for another minute. Finally, add the grated carrots and zucchini to the pan and sauté them for 2 minutes.

Process the firm tofu, water, chickpea flour, nutritional yeast, salt, herbs and spices in a food processor until smooth.

Incorporate the sauteed veggies and chopped tomatoes into the mixture (I save some tomatoes and herbs to use as toppings). Transfer the batter to a non-stick muffin pan and bake it for 25-35 minutes.

-> Let them cool down for at least 10 min before eating.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

2- Kafta

Herbs & spices I use: smoked paprika, garlic powder, Aleppo pepper and parsley

Preheat oven to 200°C or 392°F.

Boil some water, remove from heat and add the TVP with a tbsp of vinegar to the pan. Let it soak for 10 minutes, then rinse and squeeze to remove all excess water.

Add the chopped onions and a pinch of salt to a pan and sauté them with a sprinkle of water until golden. Then, add the chopped garlic and let it cook for another minute. Combine the lentils, TVP, more salt and smoked paprika to the mixture and cook for 5 minutes.

Add the mixture to a food processor with the chickpea flour and all the other herbs and spices, process until combined.

Roll mixture into sausages and stick a skewer to them. If you want to, spray some olive oil into a baking pan before adding them to make a crust. Bake or air fry for 20 minutes, then flip and bake for another 15 minutes.

-> Serve with freshly squeezed lime juice or tzatziki sauce.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

3- Egless Omelette

Herbs & spices I use: basil, turmeric, garlic powder and black pepper

Add the silken tofu, chickpea flour, almond milk, nutritional yeast, salt and spices to a blender and blend until smooth.

Add the chopped onions and a pinch of salt to a non-stick pan and sauté them with a sprinkle of water until golden.

Add the tofu batter to the pan along with chopped tomatoes and some basil. Cook it on medium low heat for about five minutes or until it thickens up.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

4- Green Pea Croquettes & Tzatziki sauce

Herbs & spices I use: chives, parsley, cilantro, smoked paprika and chili powder

Preheat oven to 200°C or 392°F.

Add all of the ingredients to a food processor and process until thoroughly combined. Mold them into whichever shape you'd like (the thinner, the crunchier/the thicker, the softer). Bake or airfry in a non-stick baking pan for 30-40 minutes.

For the sauce, sprinkle some salt on the grated cucumbers and let it sit for 3 minutes while you chop the garlic and herbs. Then, squeeze the cucumbers to remove excess water, combine with all of the other ingredients and mix with a spoon.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

5- Creamy Lentil Soup

Herbs & spices I use: rosemary, sage, cumin, turmeric and cayenne pepper

Add chopped onions and a pinch of salt to a pan and sauté them with a sprinkle of water until golden. Then, add the chopped garlic and let it cook for another minute. Finally, add the tomato paste, vegetable broth, almond milk, lentils and chopped pumpkin. Let it cook for about 8 minutes or until the lentils are soft.

Blend the chickpeas with the herbs, spices and some water until they turn into a creamy sauce. Add it to the lentil soup and mix well until it thickens.

-> Optional: Serve with freshly squeezed lime juice.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

6- Zucchini Roll-ups

Herbs & spices I use: basil, oregano, black pepper

Add the chopped leek and a pinch of salt to a pan and sauté them with 1 tsp of olive oil until golden. Then, add the chopped garlic and let it cook for another minute.

Slice the zucchinis thinly using a mandoline, then sprinkle with salt to shrink and soften.

Process the tofu, sauteed onions and garlic, 1 tsp olive oil, lemon juice, nutritional yeast, salt and spices in a food processor to make vegan ricotta.

Pour half of the tomato sauce into the bottom of a baking dish and wipe the excess salt off of the zucchini slices.

Spread vegan ricotta on each zucchini strip, then roll it up and place in the baking dish. Cover with the remaining tomato sauce half and bake for about 20-35 minutes or until bubbly.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

7- Cookies

Cover the dates in water after removing their pits and let them soak for at least 4 hours.

Preheat the oven to 180°C or 356°F.

Process the other ingredients, except for the baking powder, in a food processor until thoroughly combined. Finally, slowly incorporate the baking powder to the mixture.

Divide batter into large cookies and bake on a non-stick baking pan for 20-30 minutes. Open the oven at 10 minutes and flip cookies.

-> Let them cool for at least 15 min before eating.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

8- Energy Brownie Bites

Stir all ingredients together in a large mixing bowl until thoroughly combined. Cover the mixing bowl and let it chill in the refrigerator for 1-2 hours until they are firm enough.

Roll mixture into balls or any shape you'd like. You could also use an ice cube silicone tray to make sure they are all the same size.

[echoric]

can you give us some icemav angst? like early early relationship when they're still figuring things out and maverick is dared by someone to flirt with a lady at a bar & ice expects him to say no but instead mav goes along with it?

absolutely I can, that is delicious!! (it's going to be short though because I need to go to sleep and not spend another hour writing gay pilots after writing almost 4k words about them earlier today lol)

"i’m not her"

icemav; hurt/no comfort (1,188 Words)

The dare is nothing, at first. It was some offhand, playful challenge thrown out by Slider while they were sitting around a bar table. It wasn't even a serious dare, it was more a joke to pass the time. Ice had a glass of some sort of alcohol in his hand - sweeter than normal, ordered by Maverick before Ice could get his usual vodka lime - and they were all laughing about some sort of mess-up from that week. Slider smirked and nudged Maverick gently with his elbow, nodding toward a brunette at a bar.

"I bet you can't get a kiss in under five minutes."

Maverick just laughed, and Ice assumed he was going to brush it off. Before Ice could even turn to look at him, Maverick was already moving to stand up with that shit-eating grin he wore when he knew he was about to win something. It took a second for Ice to catch up with Maverick's mind - a short, confusing second where he expected Maverick to shake his head, say something like 'nah, not interested', or even play it off with a snarky remark about Slider's inability to get a woman. Anything but. . .that.

And yet, Maverick was already sliding out of his chair, adjusting his jacket and setting his beer down on the table. Ice watched in stunned silence as Maverick smirked and raised an eyebrow in Slider's direction before saying, "Watch and learn, sonny."

Before Ice could even react, Maverick was halfway across the bar. He looked relaxed, cocky, confident - and Ice realized with a cold chill that he didn't know if that was for show or if that's just who Maverick is, something Maverick does. A thrill-seeker, show-boater, a man who flirts with anything that moves because it's all just another game for him.

The first flash of anger in his chest surprised Ice. It was quick, cutting, and went straight to his gut in a way that he wasn't expecting. Sure, they were keeping everything under wraps for safety, but Ice thought they were at least on the same page that there was something. They'd spent almost every night for the past few weeks together; Ice had gotten used to a certain gleam in Maverick's eyes that was reserved for him, the way he would lean closer to Ice when he thought no one was looking just to speak quietly, the casual brush of arms and knees when they sat at a table together.

Maybe there had been nothing there after all.

Maybe Ice had been wrong. Maybe Maverick had played him, used him like a pawn and decided to toss him out once there was a prettier target to distract himself with. Ice felt like a fool sitting with his mouth pressed into a tight line, eyes and mind locked onto Maverick as Slider and Hollywood laughed about something. He tried to force his face to relax into something more casual; the last thing he wanted was for Slider - who knew him too well - to notice a flash of irritation in his eyes or the way his hand was white-knuckled around his glass.

Ice felt his heart break as he watched Maverick talk to the woman, leaning in with the same coy grin that had charmed him a few nights ago. He tore his eyes away as the woman laughed and looked away before looking back - he didn't want to see Maverick win the bet. Maverick appeared at the table a few seconds later, holding up a napkin with a lipstick stain on it and Ice forced a smile.

"That didn't take long," Ice said as casually as he could manage.

Maverick shrugged, glancing down at the napkin and back up at Ice. There was something playful in his eyes, as if he was expecting Ice to congratulate him - or maybe rib him about it.

But Ice doesn't feel like playing along with any of Maverick's games anymore.

"Guess it's still true, what everyone says, huh, Mitchell? You still can't resist a challenge," he said, keeping his tone cool and even and hoping the bitterness didn't slip through. He heard Slider and Hollywood laugh at his comment, but there was a flicker of confusion on Maverick's face, his smile faltering for just a second.

And maybe it was stupid, maybe it was bitter, maybe it wasn't fair, but Ice wanted nothing more than for Maverick to understand that he wasn't impressed. That he wasn't going to play whatever game Maverick thought this was. Because if this whole thing was just a joke to Maverick, Ice was glad he was learning now.

"I...I guess not," Maverick replied, quieter and more subdued than Ice had heard him since Goose's funeral.

Ice looked away, taking another sip of his drink and hoping the conversation would move on. Slider and Hollywood didn't notice the tension and uncomfortable air between them, but Ice could feel Maverick's gaze even as he refused to look the man in the eyes.

Finally, Maverick broke first and leaned over, his voice low so the others wouldn't be able to hear over the music, "Hey. Did I. . .Did I do something wrong?"

Ice refused to look at him, taking another long drink before shrugging, "Doesn't matter."

Of course, it mattered. And of course, Maverick knew that. And of course, the way Maverick was looking at him with his brow furrowed and head tipped to the side, his expression somewhere between kicked puppy and concerned lover, made Ice's chest tighten and made him want to say something that he knew he couldn't.

"I. . .I thought we needed. . ." Maverick hesitated and glanced around, ensuring himself that Hollywood and Slider and no other strangers were listening in, "I thought we needed to keep us a secret."

"Right," Ice replied sharply, his voice barely above a whisper. "So clearly it doesn't matter if you want to go flirt with someone else. Go fuck someone else. It's not like you're breaking any rules, right?"

Maverick tried to reply but Ice stood up abruptly, getting Hollywood and Slider to both look at him with matching startled expressions. Slider took in Ice's appearance and his expression morphed to concern as he tilted his head, "What's up, Ice? You heading out early?"

"Yeah. I just remembered that I have an early meeting, can't get too loose with you boys tonight," Ice said easily, grateful for the out that Slider provided. "Enjoy your drinks."

As Ice walked out of the bar, he kept his posture controlled, expression unreadable. He refused to look back at the table, not wanting to see Maverick's expression or the hurt that he half-imagined, half-hoped would be there. Instead, he pushed his way through the crowd and into the cool night air.

The silence outside cut into his mind as he walked off, a stark contrast to the loud, lively bar. Ice fished a cigarette out of his pocket as he walked. 'Don't smoke that shit,' Maverick had said once, 'it'll put you in an early grave.'

Ice lit it up and took a deep drag, blowing the smoke out into the sky.

[alex51324]

Farm Box Cooking Saturday!

This week I made ratatouille, and also watermelon sangria!

The ratatouille used eggplant, zucchini, onion, garlic, pepper, and tomatoes from my farm boxes, and also some additional peppers and tomatoes that I bought at a stand that's on the side of the road on my way to work, and basil from a pot I have next to my parking space. The only grocery store ingredients were olive oil, salt, and pepper.

As long as you're good at chopping vegetables, it's easy to make! You start by sauteeing the onions and garlic in olive oil, and after the onions have softened, the peppers too. Then you put in everything else. Cover the pot to get the liquid to start cooking out of the vegetables. (In my case, I had to let them cook down a bit before I could get the lid on!) Simmer for about 15 minutes with the lid on, then take it back off and keep simmering for 45 minutes to an hour.

You can have it as a side dish with anything, or as a main dish over your carb (or carb substitute!) of choice. I did penne pasta.

My other big project was the watermelon; I made a tasty watermelon sangria using half the watermelon, a bottle of inexpensive pink wine, a cup of vodka, the juice from three limes, a cup or so of sugar, and some mint.

It made a lot.

The first step is to cut the watermelon up into chunks and blend it in the blender. Then you pour the puree through a fine mesh strainer, which gets you a bowl of watermelon juice:

And a big spoonful so of pulp:

You know that watermelon is mostly liquid, but it's still surprising how little you're left with after you blend and strain it. This is the pulp from one blender-full of watermelon; I blended the half-watermelon in about three batches. It was probably about a cup of pulp total--I'm not sure, because I gave it to Sophie as I went along. (Remember, there's no alcohol in it yet!)

The blending and straining is really the only hard part here; once you've done that you just pour everything else in and mix it up. (To make sure the sugar and mint were properly incorporated, I zipped them through the blender with a cup or so of watermelon juice, but you wouldn't necessarily have to do that.)

If you are serving this at a party, you can cut-and-scoop the watermelon like you're getting ready to carve a jack-o-lantern, and then use the rind as a punchbowl! Or if you're going to drink it all yourself over a period of several days, you can put it in an old lemonade jug or whatever. It is tasty and delicious!

You can also make a nonalcoholic version using lemonade or limeade (purchased or homemade) in place of the wine. I might try that if they give me another huge watermelon, because I realized after the fact that what I'd just done was give myself a fairly tight deadline to drink an entire bottle of wine and five shots of vodka. (It's not like I have to chug the stuff, but I don't usually drink alcohol on a daily basis, but to get through the whole jug before it spoils, I will have to do just that.)

Anyway! foo

With the other half of the watermelon, I'm making sorbet! I don't know yet how well that will come out, but you start by cutting your watermelon into chunks and freezing them:

Then you put the frozen chunks through a food processor with some more lime juice & a little sugar, and spread it back out into a shallow pan:

And then you pop it back in the freezer. The recipes I consulted are not in agreement about how many times you have to take it back out and stir it during the freezing process to not get a solid lump of watermelon ice; the options range from "zero; once you've put it through the food processor it's fine now" through a variety of actual numbers, to "if you don't own an ice-cream maker you pretty much have to eat it all within about 4 hours after when you did the step with the food processor."

So...I'll just see what happens, I guess! Anyway, it's pretty tasty:

[youtellmeman]

Montegues and Quaritchs alike

Part 1

Lo'ak x human! Reader

Prologue - part 2

Warnings- gun? some foul language

Tawtute- human

Yuh prologue and first chapter in one day cause i wanted to give yall something else. As usual everything under the break.

Lo’ak knew somehow this would fall on him, maybe that’s why he didn’t immediately call for his father over the com in his ear. He’d already been scolded today for being on the battlefield when he knew very well his father had already told him he was forbidden to go anywhere where there might be a chance of sky people. Let alone on the forefront of the battlefield. 

All he’d wanted to do was help. That’s all Lo’ak ever wanted to do when it came to his father, prove that he could be of some assistance, that he could be useful. And maybe if Eywa hadn’t meddled in this whole situation he’d have been able to take out this random sky person, been able to prove that he was a strong ally to have on the field. 

No, instead here he was trying to question it, or her he should say.

“Who the hell are you?” He pushed all the authority he could into his tone.

“Nobody, I’m nobody.” You say as you slowly lower the things in your hands to the ground in what would’ve been a show of submission. Had you not dropped the basket in favor of moving to grab the pistol from your holster, immediately taking aim. “So why don’t we call it and move our separate ways huh?”

He should’ve shot you when he had the chance, now instead he was stuck in standoff with a sky person. And even he knew that gun against bow, he wasn’t coming out on top. So instead he did what his father would’ve told him, for the first time ever maybe, and fell back. Taking slow steps backwards letting himself disappear into the brush, or at least that's what he lets you believe. Because as he backs off so do you, waiting until you can't hear his footsteps anymore before booking it back in the direction you came. Not bothering to pick up what you'd dropped instead keeping your gun held high as you ran through the forest ragged breaths leaving your chest, trying to stay as aware of your surroundings as possible with them changing so rapidly.

You’d ran straight for a long moment before finally pausing for a breath, trying to analyze what had just happened. Your father had raised you to believe that these savages would kill you on the spot. The tall blue people had filled your nightmares as a child and now your very first run in with one , not only had he not killed you, but spoke to you in your own language.

The interaction would plague your thoughts for the rest of the trek home, once you had returned, and through the next couple of days. Well in between being scared shitless about what would happen if your father found out you'd snuck off the compound. Thankfully though it seemed he’d remained unaware and so the next time you were given a day to recuperate, you did it again. 

And this time you did it with the hope of meeting that same na’vi man again, plus you wanted to get your basket back. So here you were once more moving through the almost luminescent forest that covered the majority of pandora, this gun out to lead with. In no time you’re able to find the spot you’d first met him, and luckily your spot still lay where you’d left it and though your samples had wilted that was the least of your concern right now. Not when you were scanning the trees for any sign of blue skin or those piercing lime green eyes. You didn’t find it, not then, not in the next five, ten minutes, half hour, hour. And so you call it. Resigning yourself and instead moving to focus on the flora like you’d intended the first time you’d ventured out into the wilderness.

Unbeknownst to you someone else had been hoping to see you today. In fact Lo’ak had been hoping on running into for the last few days,coming to the same spot, though instead of approaching on foot he'd been in the trees, waiting and watching. Just as he was now.

Everything he’d learned about sky people was encapsulated by the fact that they were takers. The sky people only knew how to take and take and hurt. You however proved to be slightly different. 

You still took, you took pieces of plants,flowers, roots, and seeds. Placing them in a basket. The difference was you didn’t seem to want to cause pain. Despite raising a gun to him you didn’t fire, and even in your taking of their forest plants you never took too much. Never uprooting the whole plant, killing mercilessly, instead taking small bits and pieces of what you wanted, leaving the rest unharmed. 

So he sat watching, simply learning, trying to understand why Eywa had stopped him from extinguishing you. At least he had intended to simply watch and learn. But you were starting to lean towards an extremely dangerous plant for a small of its flowers.

“Don’t do that.” His voice cut through the ambiance of the forest. Perching himself on a branch in your eyeline. His voice has you whipping your gun from its holster in seconds pointing it in his direction. This time you find while he’s still armed his bow is thrown over his shoulder. No arrow pointed in your direction and hands empty. “Its fumes are poisonous and so is the sap covering its stem and leaves.”

“Oh.” Is all you can let slip from your lips. Confusion laces the one word you muttered and Lo’ak finds himself chuckling at your obliviousness. 

“Oh is right. So unless you want to be dead in minutes I’d leave that alone if I were you.” There’s something analytic behind the playful grin he wears that you can see ever so clearly. Though you step away from the plant you still making no move to lower your gun. “Humans are so foolish. You should not touch things you know nothing about, Tawtute.”

“If I'm so foolish, why not let me figure it out on my own?” You ask and after a moment your head tilts in question, “Taughtoo?”

“Tawtute.” He repeats this time slower and you let your mouth try to form each syllable of the word silently. “It means human.” He clarifies.

“Why call me that; tawtute?” You ask, arms lowering as you continue to speak.

“That is what you are. No? Plus you haven’t exactly given me a name to work with.” He says before jumping down from the branch he was previously perched on. Now standing a few feet in front of you. “Unless you expect me to call you Nobody?” He asks playfully with a small squint of his eyes and a shake of his head to move the small braids that had fallen into his line of sight. You can't help the small grin that grows in response to his playfulness, finally holstering your gun once more before giving him your name, your first name only.

With whatever comradery you have growing between you two you don't need it sullied by what your father had done before your birth.

Lo’aks body relaxes slightly once you’ve put away your firearm, in fact once it's away completely he begins to circle you, not predatorily. Just curious, like you’re some kind of animal he’d never seen.

“You know usually when someone tells you there name, you introduce yourself back?” You comment, standing still letting him finish whatever investigation he had going on as he circled you. 

“Usually people do that when the first meet instead of point a gun at you.” Lo’ak can’t help the way you intrigue him, the way you entrance him like a lighting bug a child. 

“To be fair you aimed first.” You say finding his gaze once more, having to crane your neck to do so, with a small shrug. He looks you up and down from one more time from in front of you before locking eyes with you unblinkling before chuckling dryly with a small nod of his head.

“Lo’ak te Sully of the Omiticayan clan, second son to the Olo’eyktan.” Lo’ak chooses to introduce himself formally, giving a half bow while he watches you through his lashes and the few braids that fall forward. He doesn’t miss the flash of recognition on your face.

“...Sully?” You question and you can’t help the way you tense once more, every part of you that was once at ease now on high alert. “Like, like Jake Sully?”

“You know of my father?” Oh well this wasn’t good, you figured. Of course the first na’vi you meet happens to be the son of you fathers archnemisis. The whole reason youre on the damn planet is because of Lo’ak’s father.

“Him and my dad used to know eachother.” You mutter lowly, now refusing to meet his eyes.

“I take it by your expression they didn’t get along very well.” Lo’ak is quick to draw conclusions, but he isn’t exactly surprised. Save for the human allowed to stay on pandora not many sky people liked his father wether they used to know him or not. He just didnt know how much your fathers didn’t like eachother yet.

You’d heard the story of how Jake Sully betrayed your father tons of times, the way his wife had shot him nearly ending your his life, and the way your father tried his damndest to kill Jake and failed. It was one of the things you’d used a many times to piss him off.

“Understatement of the century dude.” You say to yourself before meeting his eyes. You weren’t sure how he’d react if he knew who you were, who your father was. So you said nothing. Rather safe then sorry. “Yeah well you know he kinda betrayed us, you can see the issue I’m sure.” You try to keep the answer casual and bare minimum, unaware that Lo’ak heard what you’d muttered below your breath. He chooses not to comment on that though, instead,

“My father didn’t betray anyone, he chose to learn and grow. Something the rest of your people should try out.” Quick to defend his father it seemed. Despite the way they might clash Lo’ak could never let anyone speak ill of his father .

“He chose your people over his own kind, that’s called betreyal.” You bite back, you knew what you’d learned and you had no reason to believe any different now, wether you were getting along with one of the blue bastards or not.

“He chose peace over war while your people chose war over peace. He fought for those who wanted peace, that is called maturity. Something else I see you all lack.” Lo’ak steps forward with that comment glaring down at you; he can’t help the way you glaring back so unafraid fills his veins with something electric. 

It’s you who breaks the glaring match, rolling your eyes and sucking your teeth. Grip on your basket tightening in irritation when you step back from him. You think this has been enough time in the outdoors for today.

“See you around Lo’ak.” You respond curtly, ending this…whatever this had been. Turning to walk away, back to the compound, chest heavy with what you’d learned.

It was only once you were in bed later that night, undiscovered once more that you’d realize he’d never answered your question. Why not let you learn the hard way when it came to dangerous things?

—————

Reblogs appreciated <3

Chapter brought to you by my y2k playlist and brisk ice tea

Taglist (reply to be added!)

@wakanda-forever-andotherfandoms @bambithewriter

[fanaticmorelikefantastic]

I'm just gonna put this here

It felt like it had been hours. Hell, when I checked the time, it really had been hours. Yet here I am, still staring at an empty Word document. Well, almost empty. I kept writing and rewriting the first few sentences. ‘It was a cold and stormy night.’ No. Who starts with that anymore? ‘It was summer, the summer of my-’ Ugh I hate summer, it makes me think of flies. ‘It’s too bad that every love ends with heartbreak.” I’m not even writing a tragedy what? Well I could, but I’d feel terribly bad about it and would eventually end up writing a messy redemption arc with countless plot holes. Ew. I don’t know how long this cycle continued for until I was entirely fed up with everything. That’s a lie, it lasted for an hour and forty five minutes. I was obsessively checking the clock the entire time as though it held some secret answer to my writing dilemma, or the universe, or something. But it doesn’t and I’m all out of ideas, and motivation, and friends, and real romance, and potatoes, and milk, and hair ties, and- okay let’s stop. I shut down my laptop and put it in its bag. For a moment I thought that I could finish that painting I’ve been working on (the one that was ordered by that pretentious a- be nice), but the tedium deterred me. (It does have to be done in the next ten weeks though. I wish I would’ve just picked a struggle instead of being so ambitious.) Maybe a break is what I needed. That or a change of scenery. Both maybe. After standing up and almost falling right back down, I was reminded to eat, or that I haven’t eaten, or that I should go out somewhere to eat while I write! Genius, absolute. I practically ran to my room to get dressed to go. I could walk around and see if there’s anything to eat nearby, or I could just go to one of my regular spots. I had a hankering for adventure today, so I settled on the former. Cute clothing always boosts morale, so let's put some on. I also make sure that they’re comfortable. It’s important to be comfortable when you’re planning on staring at a computer screen for several (more) hours. 

It must’ve been divine intervention that made me want to go outside, because whilst in this cafe (which I never really noticed before) words have been pouring out of my mind. A hook, an exposition, a main character that I actually don’t hate, it seemed like all the stars were aligning in favor of me and this story. Well, all the stars that aren’t the male lead. I had written all the way up to when we meet him, but there he goes, pulling a disappearing act. Nestled in the corner of a cute and cozy cafe on a late autumn morning seemed like the perfect place to have a meet cute with the fragmented image of a male lead, but strangely, he was nowhere to be found. I scanned around the space for any inspiration. The cozy wooden tables and decorations paired with sleek black accents along the ceiling and other places gave the area a moody and romantic feel. The only problem was that there weren’t any moody or romantic people whose style I could rip off for my character. I gave up on my plan pretty fast. I had made plenty of progress already (or at least I gaslit myself into thinking so), so I chose instead to worry about whether or not I should get another one of those delicious sandwiches. Paninis. The food they served here was stupidly good, and maybe it could magically imbue some new ideas into my head. I decided on getting the chicken version of the sandwich (panini) I just had. While I ordered at the counter, my eyes wandered to a mini key lime tart seated behind the glass. I wondered for a second what their desserts tasted like, nestled all cozy in their display. It's what they specialize and advertise so I’m sure they’re delicious, but I needed an excuse to come back later, right? 

I settled into my seat, a new spot closer to the window this time, thinking that maybe a different view would help me to finally write in this character. His personality was already pretty much decided (it’s written in the notebook I have reserved for this book), but I couldn’t for the life of me figure out what he was to look like. While pondering at my meal (sandwich (panini)), I heard the little cowbell on the door jingle and I instinctively looked up. I was joking earlier, but now I’m sure that some higher being brought me here because the man that just walked in was drop dead gorgeous. He was an absolute unit, his arm muscles unmistakably flexing in his short sleeved shirt (not that I was looking or anything (no, really they looked at me first). It was gray, which I usually wouldn’t like, but when it’s tucked into a pair of dark blue jeans fixed by a belt that matched the combat boots peeking from under them (the jeans), I waver just a bit. That’s all well and great, but the real kicker was when he glazed his eyes across the room. Oh my goodness his eyes. It felt like getting hit by a ton of bricks but if the bricks were made of metaphorical blue raspberry jell-o imbued with pure effervescence. It seemed like my fingers were floating when I wrote:

‘His eyes were blue when they met mine. I know it’s terribly cliche, but I couldn’t help but notice the cold, milky blue in his irises that melted away like a glacier when he looked to the floor. With gentle hands, he picked up my wallet, placing it in my hand that was, embarrassingly, frozen in place. I grasped it mindlessly as we both stood up. 

“Be careful not to drop it next time.” Not if you’re around to pick it up for me. 

“Yea.” I sounded pathetic. I felt pathetic. I looked pathetic as I watched him walk away, heart full of hopes, stomach full of butterflies, and head full of dreams.’ 

He walked right by me and I froze, the result of a sort of guilt for using him as a basis for someone in my novel. I tried to steal a discreet glance at him, but it was just my luck that he sat down in a cafe, by himself, with just one coffee, to do nothing. He wasn’t even on his phone. I immediately turned back around, not giving myself any time to see if he saw me or not because of course he did. He didn’t have anything else to look at (Wow, I sound so stuck up). I do my best to wrap up the paragraph I’m on and hide the embarrassment I feel towards this stranger that probably doesn’t even know I’m writing a paragraph about a girl falling in love with a fictitious version of him. I feel gross about it, but it’s not like I’m stalking him or anything, I just appropriated his likeness to write into my novel, which will be published, and people will (hopefully) read. I left before he did and on my way back I wondered why it was that I felt so guilty about it. It surely wasn’t the first time I pilfered a random name called by the barista at Starbucks, or stole the style of somebody I saw out of my window, or even took the words from a conversation I’d overheard for the sake of my writing. This time it felt a little more personal, maybe it’s because he was my type: tall, blonde, and built like a refrigerator. Whatever it was, I put it behind me by the time I got home. After all, it’s not like I’ll ever see him again. Now that chicken panini? That’s a different story.

Enter tomorrow morning, where I wake up refreshed, and early, and equipped with a name for our favorite love interest. Leon. It was a great name to give him, simple and iconic so the readers (and I) will remember it throughout the rest of the story. Also it goes great with the name Audrey. Audrey and Leon, star crossed lovers.  For a moment, the image of the guy from the coffee shop flashed through my mind, but that man’s name could never be Leon. I stretch my limbs, popping almost every joint in my body, before stepping into the shower and thinking about how his (the guy from yesterday’s) name probably starts with a J. He looked like a Jason, or maybe a Jamie. Definitely a Jamie. After I quickly jot down the name (Leon, not Jamie) into my notebook, which has gained more than a few stickers on the cover, I decide that now is the perfect time to go for a walk, maybe even a jog. It’s not often that I wake up feeling so great, so I have to take full advantage of it. Athletic leggings and a sleeveless top, something I don’t usually wear, but today we’re getting out of our box. I give a small thanks to laser hair removal as I put them on. The shirt matches the stripe in the leggings, which matches my shoes. I love how it matches. I also love how my leggings have a pocket on the side, and how it zips closed. I say another thanks to feminist clothing designers as I put my phone in said pocket before checking my ponytail once more in the mirror and leaving from my front door (like I have any other one). I make extra sure to lock it, turns out I hadn’t last time, which was scary, but thankfully inconsequential. 

The elevator to the lobby was filled with bliss. I even said hello to the receptionist on my way out of the building. I logged two miles around the park, half of which I actually jogged for. I sat on a bench, feeling accomplished and wondering if I should do another lap around, or maybe I should reward my excellence with a little treat, a chicken panini perhaps. I remembered those sweets they had on display at that shop (I can’t remember the name of it for the life of me) and decided that I’d rather die than not eat one of those this morning. I just did a run, I already worked off the calories, right? I did my best to perform a discreet smell check before heading that direction. I hummed lightly to myself all the way there, brainstorming ideas for how to progress my novel. It’d be cool if she found out his name by accident, like seeing it on his belongings, or overheating a friend say it, or something. That’s all fine and good, but the trope of saying ‘The name’s Leon’ still has a vice grip on me. I should've brought my notebook along. Then I could have written all this down. The friendly jingle of the door bell greeted me as I walked in the store. When I took my place in line, the focus of my thoughts shifted to which dessert I should get. Something with apples for sure. I love apples. They’re so refreshing and kinda earthy? There are so many kinds of apples, but they all taste similar somehow. I wonder why. I couldn’t pinpoint the reason before it was my turn to enthusiastically order an apple turnover (and a chai latte, I couldn’t help myself when I saw someone order one before me). I received the turnover in a little brown baggie and took a seat nearby to wait for my latte. While waiting, I pondered the second meeting of our (my) favorite protagonists and if Jamie is getting another medium black coffee right now. Wait, Jamie? I snapped myself back into reality as I watched (the man that I secretly dubbed) Jamie walk into the store and towards the ordering counter. I hadn’t expected him to be here again today, or at least that’s what I told myself because I couldn’t admit the possibility of him being a regular here. He probably was. I had (thankfully) barely started my thought spiral when my name was called at the counter. I mindlessly walked up and grabbed my cup. What a coincidence, I walked to the counter just in time to witness Jamie order a medium coffee with cream, but no sugar. I looked at him for a second, one second too long apparently. He looked at me (with those eyes, those infuriatingly gorgeous ones that made me sacrifice my writing morals to make the male lead have ones the exact same color) and smiled. He smiled at me, a knowing one as though he knew something I didn’t. Did he? Probably. I returned it along with a polite nod, then tried my best to exit the store with my dignity intact. Unfortunately, fate had different plans. I had barely taken a couple steps away when I heard a voice call out to me.

“Hey wait up!” It was him. I know it was, I just heard him order his coffee. His voice sounds like coffee, rich and smooth. I turn around, putting on my best I-definitely-didn’t-plan-to-write-a-whole-book-about-you face.

“Yea?” I can’t get over how perfect he looks. It feels illegal for a man to have such flawless skin and- scar? Why would he have a-

“Hey um, I just couldn’t help but notice you at the cafe earlier. Well I was wondering if you’d maybe wanna meet up for a chat there sometime?” I would die for this man. It was something about the way he said it, or maybe he’s just using his evil eye powers to hypnotize me because I feel like I could never say no to him and I have an alarming lack of qualms about it. 

“Yea- Yea, um I think that’d be nice! Well, my name is _ and I’ll look forward to meeting you- uhh…” I gave him that please-tell-me-your-name look that people do when they want to finish their sentence. He laughed a bit. Well, more like a lighthearted exhale, but I say it counts.

“Leon. It’s Leon” Oh. My. God. Oh no. Oh dear.

“Leon, Okay! Do you, uhh” I moved the bag that held my pastry to be precariously secured by the hand that held my latte in order to grab my phone from my pocket. 

“Oh, yeah, let me put my number in.” Leon gently took it from my hand when I held it out to him (he also scrambled my brain by making me try to figure out how his hands could simultaneously feel like clouds and alligators). I watched him type his name, then his number. All my thoughts must’ve gotten scared and hidden away, because my head feels empty as  a helium balloon. I clumsily receive my phone back once he’s done, looking at the name ‘Leon S. Kennedy’, then back at him. He’s so gorgeous and he’s just standing there, smiling, but not like an idiot (I’m the one smiling like that), he’s more like, a reassuring fireman. 

“I’ll see you around then?” I barely registered that he was talking to me. It felt like I was having a semi-lucid dream where once I wake up, I realize my entire life until now was just a figment of my imagination. 

“Yea.” I sounded pathetic. I felt pathetic. I looked pathetic as I watched him walk away, head full with dreams, heart full with hopes, and stomach fluttering with butterflies. 

…

I am so dead.

[acradelius]

Lime rating scenario 11 for Roadhog?

"Do You Trust Me?"

Fandom: Overwatch / Overwatch 2

Pairing: Roadhog ("Mako Rutledge") x Gender Neutral! Reader

Rating: Lime [🟢] - (Equivalent to PG-13)

Prompt: #11 - "Do you trust me?"

Warnings/Mention Ofs: Gender Neutral! Reader, They/Them Pronouns For Reader, Post! Omnic Crisis, Post! Austrian Liberation Front, Long Lost Spouse! Reader And Roadhog, Slightly Canon-But Mostly Non-Canon Background For Roadhog, Reminiscing, Reuniting, Junkrat Attempts To Scare Reader, Unmentioned Appearance Of Roadhog.

Word Count: 1,420 Words

Notes: Ultimately, I've always been fond of a cross universe for Overwatch, and Team Fortress 2 with Overwatch has always been a crossover favorite of mine. Therefore, the background for Roadhog is not fully canon for this post and more opinionated based on the crossover version I have for him. I've also based Reader's brother to be Sniper from Team Fortress 2, though for those wanting to keep it solely within the Overwatch universe it is not mentioned or hinted at.

If you'd like to be tagged for all posts, certain fandom posts, or certain character posts then feel free to message me!

Thirteen years, seven months, three weeks, four days, nine hours, forty-five minutes, twenty-three seconds.

That’s exactly how much time has passed since they had last been on the property. The last time that they had been on the property, what was supposed to be considered their forever home, before having been drove out of their home, their own hometown, by a revenge hungry mob of Omnics due to the destruction of the omnium and the surrounding area that had been gifted to them by the government after the Omnic Crisis. Between being stuck in constant cycles of depression and grievance, followed by just going through the same constant motions day by day, the sense of time had become blurred and eventually forgotten. It had essentially turned into a cycle of just whenever it was day and whenever it was night, nothing much more than that. What exactly was it that had caused (Y/N)’s thoughts to deter from their usual? To decide that maybe it would be best to deter from their usual schedule and routine of the life that they had come to know over this past decade and go on this trip back to their hometown with their older brother. 

At the moment, (Y/N) couldn’t give you a specific answer. 

Yet, secretly, it was that little spark of hope that had almost been snuffed out.

While that little spark of hope within them had been on the verge of being completely snuffed out throughout the last twelve years, it was difficult to determine now whether it would actually die away or find some reason, whatever reason, to become big, bright, and flaring once again. The moment was supposed to be a time of reminiscing, a time of (Y/N) closing their eyes and basking in the memories of how the past, how rundown things had become in the present. The neighboring town, “Junkertown”, was definitely something else now, a “rustic” town built by the scraps of the omnium that was populated by bands of lawless scavengers and their “Queen”. The surrounding area of the place that was supposed to be home almost mimicked the appearance of the “Junkertown”.

It was supposed to be where their home was going to be, where their business was going to be. ‘Rutledge Family Pig Farm’, that’s what it was supposed to be called. The stalls where the pigs and piglets were going to be held were now a non-existent thing, the land where they were going to be located was now just an area of destroyed land, as it would have to be completely dug up and releveled just to even begin making blueprints once again. How that enormous, custom made barn that (Y/N) remembers Mako and some of the neighboring farmers that worked alongside them in the agribusiness had spent countless hours building was now just a large pile of various junk, the typical combination of old wood and scrap metal. Lastly, but definitely not the least part about this small time frame of reminiscing, was the house that needed many renovations that were now just small ideas of the past, the house that was supposed to become their own. 

(Y/N) and Mako’s home. 

There was just absolutely too much about the current condition of the house to attempt to just focus upon one thing about it. How many of those renovations, the plans on how beautiful and homey the house was supposed to be, were now gone to the wind, it now looking like a ghost, an empty shell, of the former house that it used to be. It’s starting to become overwhelming, the various thoughts and memories from the past conflicting with the ‘what could’ve been’ type of possibilities that follow alongside it. 

“Hey,” There’s the typically gruff, yet soft, and comforting voice of (Y/N)’s brother, enclosing the distance between them to make sure that his younger sibling was getting the closure and something similar to comfort that they would need. A gentle hand upon the shoulder, a sign of reassurance that he was there if (Y/N) needed anything. “If you’d like we could always go grab something to eat, figure out wh-” Yet, the comforting words don’t last long, not with the words then being suddenly interrupted by the sounds of metal clanking, which was then followed by a few, small explosions going off around them. There’s a shriek of surprise that escapes past (Y/N)’s lips, eyes widening and frantically looking around in an frantic attempt to figure out the source of the bombs. 

“Got ‘em bastards, Roadie! Show them that the ‘Whole Hog’ doesn’t take kindly to people tryna’ steal from us!” 

Usually, it would’ve been the frag launcher wielding crackhead looking guy that would overtake the attention of (Y/N) in situations like this, hands becoming clammy and breath becoming shaky from the anxiety that was beginning to rise within them, but that wasn’t the case this time. Their attention was now more focused upon the large, heavy set man that was standing menacingly beside this person. It’s then that it begins to dawn on (Y/N), these two men weren’t just your run-of-the-mill type of Junkers, oh, no. ‘Roadhog’ and ‘Junkrat’, that’s what they were typically called, and were famous, wanted fugitives for their international crime spree that left nothing but havoc and bedlam within their wake. Despite that, there was just something about this ‘Roadhog’ person, something that (Y/N) couldn’t just necessarily pinpoint about it. Sure, this man was probably about the same size and build, if not just some tad bigger, than Mako had been as (Y/N) could last recall, yet, people could drastically change their appearance throughout almost fourteen years. While the man’s clothing, or lack of clothing more like it, was things that she couldn’t necessarily imagine Mako wearing, it was more similar to his aesthetic though. Yet, the more that (Y/N) would look over this mystery man the more similarities to Mako that they would be able to pinpoint. 

It had begun with the body comparisons..

Then it had transitioned with the clothing comparisons.. 

..how the man’s belly button stuck out quite a bit.

..how the man’s tattoo on his stomach was very, very similar.. 

If not, completely exactly how Mako’s was.. location and all.

..that little, homemade piggy patch that was upon the man’s vest.

There’s absolutely no way, is there? 

There’s absolutely no way that it could be him, that it could be- 

“-Mako?”

It’s just a moment that the name slips from (Y/N)’s lips and out into the air around the four of them that an intense, thick moment of silence overcomes them all. Well, it doesn’t last for long as Junkrat then begins spouting off along the lines of ‘Mako? Who’s Mako?’ and then he would elbow Roadhog and chuckle, ‘Get a load of these two! Thinking that one of us is this Mako person!’ Yet, there’s no response from his taller companion, just an unknown look that’s covered by the mask. An almost unsettling silence, but it slowly dissipates as Roadhog proceeds to enclose the distance between himself and (Y/N). A large hand of his reaches to grasp at the straps of his mask and then begins to slightly tug it from his head to reveal.. 

Mako Rutledge. 

Their partner, the one that was believed to have perished along with whatever other hopes and dreams that (Y/N) and Mako used to have, was this ruthless and harsh killer that was wanted worldwide for crimes various to basic misdemeanors to crimes that could only be conjured up within the mind of an extremely deranged psychopath. There couldn’t be any way that the Outback had changed Mako this much, right? To delve and essentially give in to this ‘Roadhog’ persona, but that was his life now, and ultimately, it makes (Y/N) take a moment to realize how much they had changed due to everything that they had gone through as well.

What they hadn’t been expecting was Mako’s large hand to a gentle hold of their own, how he used to whenever they were younger, whenever they had been genuinely happy and deeply in love with each other. Heart rates begin to accelerate, breathing becomes more quick paced and shaky, throat feeling as if it’s beginning to constrict slightly while vision slowly begins to become blurred from tears forming in (Y/N)’s eyes. 

“(Y/N).. Do you trust me?”

[mrsaltieri-real]

His Perfect Victim (Mickey Altieri X OC!Dahlia Levine)

Chapter 3: Rejection

Word count: 3.5k

Warnings: language, alcohol consumption, talks of Dahlia dying, mentions of stabbing and scarring, Mickey being an asshole, smut, p in v, jealousy, angst

Chapter 3! It isn’t as long as I initially planned but it just ended at the perfect spot I didn’t feel the need to drag it out any further. God I love this series so much it’s ridiculous but I’m really going to be putting poor Dahlia through it. Thank you to @bisexual-horror-fan for editing and beta reading this once again! My fucking star!

God, what the fuck was wrong with me?

I stood a foot or so away from the door, many people chatting and drinking away cheerfully around me in a haze of noise and blurred figures as I remained hesitating. How long have I been here? A minute? Five minutes? An hour? Time seemed to have no meaning as I listened to the bouncing music coming from inside Sid and Hallie’s dorm room, the loud laughter and shouting.

It was all uncomfortably familiar.

Suddenly the door swung open and out stumbled Hallie, evidently already plastered, who grinned eagerly when she saw me.

Hands out she exclaims with a smile, “Dahlia! You came! Randy owes me twenty bucks.”

I was immediately engulfed in a warm embrace by Hallie the minute I walked into her dorm room, unable to stop my body from automatically tensing defensively. I consciously knew she wouldn’t hurt me, but my subconscious was immediately put in self preservation mode. Hallie seemed too drunk to notice as she pulled back, an even bigger smile on her face.

“Come in, have a drink!” Hallie finally released me after what felt like an eternity and I smiled half-heartedly at her. I definitely needed a drink if I was going to get through tonight.

I hadn’t been to a party since Stu’s in Woodsbro the night everything changed. In that moment glancing at all the unfamiliar faces I felt painfully aware of that fact, half expecting some jackass in a Ghostface costume to leap out at me no matter how ridiculous that may sound.

Hallie had wandered off to greet more guests, leaving me alone to make a beeline toward the large table full of drinks, eyes scanning the array of booze for whichever would get me drunk the fastest.

“Look who actually turned up.”

I had to fight the urge to roll my eyes. I hadn’t even been here two minutes and he’d already found me. I refused to turn and look at him, lifting a red solo cup from the stack and tapping the tops of the bottles for something that sounded at least appetising.

“May I?” His voice floods my ears and I suppress the urge to sigh. This time I did look up at him with a slightly raised brow. “You the connoisseur of cheap booze?”

Mickey laughed a little, shaking his head at me before replying, “I just have an idea of what people like. See,” My eyes followed his finger that now pointed over to Randy, who was sitting chatting to a group of people with his drink gripped in one hand as he waved his other hand around in manic gestures clearly in a deep discussion, “I made Randy a Gimlet.”

“What the fucks a Gimlet?” I muttered, toying with the cup in my hands.

Mickey laughed again, dropping his hand and looking back at me before explaining, “Simple syrup, lime juice and gin shaken over ice. He can’t handle his booze but likes to make it look like he can so it’s pretty perfect for him. Sidney-“ His eyes flickered over to where Sid was standing in the corner with Derek, laughing at something he said, “- Whiskey sour, of course. She’s complex.” I nodded my head, somehow that made perfect sense for her.

“Okay, what about Hallie?” I asked, squinting my eyes to try and make out what she had in her hand as she stood chatting to a few girls. I loosely registered the smell of rum and lime on her breath before her unwelcome embrace.

He made a move of his hand towards her direction as he said, “Hal? I made her an AMF.”

Eyebrows pinched together as I questioned him curiously, “AMF?”

“Adios Motherfucker.” He smiled slightly as he leaned closer.

I couldn’t help but smile back. That was somehow absolutely perfect for her even without context.

“And Derek?” I asked, nodding over in his direction.

“Are you kidding? Beer. He’s a frat bro, you think he’s gonna let me make him a fucking cocktail?” Mickey rolled his eyes, lifting his drink to his lips. It was hard to look away as he took a sip, his tongue darting out and licking the leftover liquid from his lips. I couldn’t help but ask, “And you? What have you got?”

He offered his drink to me and I hesitated for a moment. A soft laugh before he said flatly, “I haven’t got the fucking herp, Dahl.”

I felt my cheeks heat up at his nickname, quickly taking his drink so I could hide my face in it only to be taken by surprise at the overwhelming but delicious taste and aroma of mint, “A Mojito?”

“You look surprised. What, a man can’t enjoy a cocktail?” His hand rose to his chest in mock offence and I couldn’t help but smile again, handing him his cup back.

“You think you can make me one then?” I asked curiously before pressing on further, “You hardly know me.”

He sounded confident as he asserted, “I’m intuitive, I’m sure I can work out what you like even with our limited interaction. Unless of course you want me to get to know you better first?”

Was he flirting with me?

I looked at him blankly for a second before diverting my eyes down. He didn’t miss a beat, immediately changing the subject back to the drink, “You know what a Paloma is?” As he spoke, he took the cup from my hands, his warm fingers touching mine for just a second making my hand jolt back, an action he seemingly chose to ignore, “Tequila, lime juice, grapefruit soda,” With every ingredient he listened he free poured them into the cup until the drink was prepared, handing it to me with a flourish, “Can't exactly salt the rim but here.”

I took the drink from his hand, sniffing it suspiciously before taking a small sip, only to be surprised at how delicious it was.

“Wow.” I mumbled, taking a larger sip.

“Easy,” He chuckled, moving to make himself another drink, “I’m already gonna have to end up carrying Randy to bed. I don't want to have to carry you too.”

I paused for a second before forcing myself to look up at him and meet his eyes, asking with sudden bold curiosity, “What did you mean earlier?”

He looked genuinely surprised at my question, his hands pausing over the bottles as he glanced at me before asking, “What?“

I explained, “Earlier today, you said I’m not going to be able to stay away from you. What did you mean?”

He was quiet for a moment, returning to assemble his drink before walking to the free couch next to the table, raising his hand to the side for me to sit beside him to which I did so.

“I didn’t mean anything by it, just that we’re in the same social circle. I admit to being an ass when we first met, so I do apologise for that. It was just… interesting to meet you.”

I didn’t miss the emphasis he put on the word “Interesting.” It made me pause, eyeing him suspiciously. He wasn’t looking at me, his eyes set into the corner of the room as though I wasn’t even there. “What do you mean interesting?”

He blinked, drink rising up to his lips again as I waited impatiently for his reply only to wish I never asked, “Not everyday I meet someone like you.” He responded simply with a subtle curve of his lips.

“And what is that supposed to mean?”

Mickey leaned back on the couch, hand resting on his knee as he turned his head to look at me, eyes doing that stupid once over on me that I was growing to hate. Then he said it. “Someone who's supposed to be dead.”

My mouth fell open with a plop at how candidly he said it, staring at him in disbelief. Just when I thought he could be sweet.

“I’m sorry, supposed to be dead? The fact I fucking died is interesting to you?“ I snapped, the alcohol making me bolder than I usually would be.

Or was it the alcohol? Or was it yet again Mickey somehow awakening the parts of me I thought would never see the light of day again? The anger bubbling in my stomach was distantly familiar and honestly, it felt really fucking good.

Mickey groaned, head falling back against the back of the couch. “You know I didn’t mean it like that. Fucking hell you’re so sensitive Dahl. Bit of a lightweight, no?”

“Dahlia.” I wanted to shout at him, not appreciating the new nickname he seemed to have branded me with.

“Jesus, fine. Dahlia.” He said my name dripping with sarcasm before he quickly finished his drink, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand before continuing, “You’ve gotta stop being so damn oversensitive about shit. Your little broken bird act is kind of getting old to be honest.”

“Oh God, Mickey! I’m so sorry that I’m not living up to your fucking expectations. What do you want from me? Your fascination with the fact I died is really fucking creepy.” I couldn’t help but spit the words out at him. I was only slightly aware that people were beginning to look at us but for once, I didn’t care. I knew he was just trying to get a rise out of me and fuck, it was working.

“Oh, come on.” He laughed, a real laugh, raising his palms up, “You walk around campus like a ghost, you hardly speak to anybody except Sid and Randy, why?”

What was the use in trying to argue with this guy? I sighed, slouching back on the couch and closing my eyes, anger lessening, something more akin to sadness overtakes while I answered him, “They’re the only ones who understand.” I said quietly.

I felt him move to sit back next to me, feeling his eyes on my face although I refused to open them. He stayed quiet for once, waiting for me to continue.

“I don’t like you but I’ll be honest with you-“ I heard him let out a stifled laugh before I continued, “- I’m assuming you know Billy Loomis was Sidney’s boyfriend. Well, it’s lesser known who his accomplice was to me. We don’t share a last name and hell, we look absolutely nothing alike, but Stu Macher was my cousin. I loved him like a brother so when he just stood by and watched that stupid asshole drive a knife into my stomach-“ My fingers automatically touched the healed over wound over the material of my shirt and I winced, not in pain but at the memory before I continued, “- And I died, I’m pretty sure the part where I can… Feel went with me.”

Mickey was silent as he intently listened to me speak before I felt his hand clasp over mine that was still tracing my scar through my shirt, making my eyes snap open and look at him as I asked him in an undeniably self conscious tone, “What?”

“Nothing, I just think that’s the most I’ve heard you talk since I’ve known you.”

His face was close to mine, slightly tilted back as his head rested on the cushions behind him and mine did the same.

Now this feeling was new.

I saw his eyes drop to my lips for a brief moment before looking back into mine. Did I want this? Did I want him?

My mind started to race and my heart began to thud unsteadily in my chest as I watched his tongue swipe his bottom lip as he leaned forward. I could feel the pulse in my ears as I froze in place, unable to make my body move.

Fight or flight, fight or flight?

In a second, I made a decision.

I shot to my feet, dropping my empty cup to the floor and stumbling back a little, my eyes wide and his shown surprise. For the first time I saw a flash of an emotion that wasn’t sarcastic or pissed but I couldn’t quite pinpoint exactly what it was.

“Dahlia?” He asked, looking slightly concerned.

“You can’t just do that!” I hissed, hands shaking a little as my eyes flickered around my surroundings. Thank God, nobody was looking.

He leaned forward, his posture significantly less relaxed as he questioned, “Jesus, do what?”

You rushed out, “Lean forward and try to… Kiss me like that!”

Mickey looked at me blankly for a moment before his head fell back and he let out a loud, obnoxious laugh before managing to get out, “Are you fucking kidding me? You thought I was trying to kiss you? We were just having a conversation, Dahlia. How self involved are you?”

Of course, I know now Mickey isn’t used to not getting what he wants. He had grown accustomed to girls tripping over themselves to fuck him and the fact I didn’t, the fact I went out of my way to get away from him? He hates it. I could tell in that moment with the way he laughed but his eyes were blazing that he had an edge to him. I suppose that should’ve been one of many red flags.

Instead I scoffed at him, grabbing a random bottle of booze from the table before stalking off to go drink in peace.

I settled down on a chair in what I guess was supposed to be the communal living room, crossing my legs and eagerly knocking back the rum in my hand straight from the bottle.

“Jesus, Dahlia.”

I glanced up and saw a tipsy Randy flop down beside me, his drink spilling over the side of his cup as he did so but he didn’t seem to notice, eyes on me as he spoke, “Going hard, huh? What’s up?”

“Mickey.” I muttered simply.

“Ah.” Randy was quiet for a moment, looking at me thoughtfully.

Randy and I had what you would call and sandbox friendship. We met in kindergarten when he’d attempted to snatch a toy from my hand and I’d smacked him over the head with it in retaliation. I can’t really remember what led to it, but after that we became inseparable. We got “married” at recess with Sid and Tatum officiating but it was just childish fun and games. I of course loved him, but it was never romantic in any way.

During my time in the hospital, he visited every single day. During this time I wasn’t talking much so we just watched movies until visiting hours were up, he’d go home and then come back the next day to do it all over again. Never horror. He knew me well enough to know that after everything with Billy and Stu, for me at least real life was scary enough.

“Is he giving you a hard time?” Randy asked, rolling his head to look at me, he said in a more serious tone, “Ignore him, okay? Mickey can be an ass.”

“Oh, I know.” I muttered, bringing the bottle to my lips once more, “Such a fucking ass.”

Out of the corner of my eye I saw Randy’s eyebrows shoot up and I sighed, “What?”

He shrugged, “Nothing. It’s just I haven’t heard you speak with venom like that in… Fuck, forever. It’s disconcerting.”

I looked at Randy, a deep frown on my face as I asked, “What do you mean?”

“No, I don’t mean anything by it. I don’t know what Mickey did or said but I’ve gotta say, he really brings the fire out in you, you know?”

I dropped my eyes to the bottle in my hand, fingernails tapping lightly on the glass. I knew Randy was right. Whenever I was around Mickey he just revived me somehow. As annoying and infuriatingly difficult he was, there was no way I could dispute that fact.

In the space of a month I’d felt more irritation and fire than I’d probably felt in my entire life. Honestly, I never thought I’d feel anything again.

What was it about him?

I lifted my head as I heard footsteps approaching Randy and I and looked up to see Sidney hastily walking over to us.

“Dahlia, Mickey’s looking for you. He’s in my room, said he wanted to find you to apologise or something?” She shrugged a little, hand waving down the hall and toward hers and Hallie’s shared room.

I frowned, my grip on the bottle tightening which Randy seemed to notice as he asked, “You want me to come with?”

“No, no.” I mumbled, starting to stand up before the room spun a little. I blinked, feeling myself fall back on the couch and Randy quickly gripped my arm with a small, nervous laugh. “How much of that have you had?”

I shook my head as I mumbled, “I’m fine.”

Sidney looked at me, soulful brown eyes doubtful. “We all know you’re a lightweight Dahlia. Maybe Randy and I should take you back to your dorm.”

“I’m okay, honest.” In truth, I really just wanted to hear Mickey apologise to me. Who knew he was capable? “What number is your dorm?”

Sidney told me her dorm room number and I felt both her and Randy watching me cautiously as I slowly walked away, trying my best to walk in a straight line. Fuck, I really was a lightweight. Was it down to Mickey’s strong ass cocktail or the straight rum? Probably the straight rum.

My hands both rested on the walls as I walked down the corridor, eyes blurring as I blinked unseeingly at the number of the doors until I found Sidney’s.

I heard muffled voices coming from the other side of the door and infringed a little, hand hesitating on the door knob. Even hammered, something felt off. I didn’t know Mickey that well, but I did know he wasn’t one to apologise.

Fuck it.

I turned the door handle and pushed the door open, eyes widening and mouth falling open and the sight before me.

A blonde girl was lying face down, ass up on what I assumed to be Sidney’s bed without a stitch of clothing on her. She was gasping and moaning into the mattress beneath her, and who else would be behind her? Mickey.

He had her arms behind her back, one of his hands circling her wrists and the other gripping her hip, pulling her back as he thrusted into her. His head was back, groaning softly before it fell forward and he released her wrists, moving his hand up her back until it found her hair and twisting it around his fist, yanking it back so she was sat up, her head leaning on his shoulder as she gasped out, “Oh my fucking God Mickey, please don’t stop!“ with her eyes screwed up tight and her chest heaving. I saw her face and for some reason it seemed to bother me to see how attractive the girl was.

His eyes opened and met mine from over her shoulder, quickly roaming over my stunned form before he smiled.

He fucking smiled, a sick and almost depraved smile directly at me, a slight upturn of his shoulders before he mouthed, “Fuck you” to me as he pushed the writhing, moaning girl down on her stomach. His fingers kneeding the soft flesh of her ass as he continued fucking her, his eyes now never leaving mine as I remained frozen at the door.

Walk away, walk away! Why the fuck are you stood watching this shit?

The voice in my head was screaming at me until she was finally loud enough for me to listen. I turned on my heel, quickly slamming the door behind me.

What the fuck?

Why would he tell Sid he wanted to apologise to me if he was busy fucking some slut in her bed? Why would he want me to see that?

I was clearly drunk because I could feel tears burning my eyes, and I wasn’t sure if they were out of anger or something else. I shook out my head, hands coming up to tap on my cheeks lightly in an attempt to snap myself out of it as I heard Mickey let out another loud laugh and the girl let out an even louder cry of what I could only assume to be pleasure.

Guess this is how he acts when he gets rejected.

What a fucking asshole.

Chapter Four HERE