#probably gonna wake up and finish tales to be told

[looking-to-rattle-the-stars]

i didn’t know jonathan sims related content has so much fucking crack in it

[thedo0zyslider]

Boy Troubles And Girl Help - 2k Words

Gem is woken up very early one morning by Oli, her neighbor having one request: to help him score a date with Pix. Gem, despite her grievances about being up so early, is determined not to fail him.

My third and final fic fot @mcyt-trick-or-treat!! For once again for Crystal_consumer!

When Princess Gem wakes up to a loud, banging knock on her door, she is not expecting Oli to be there. Especially since the sun hasn’t risen yet. She’s pretty sure he usually sleeps until noon on a good day. Oh, and also the sun hasn’t risen yet , meaning Gem should be getting some well needed sleep right now; not opening her front door for her stupid bard neighbor. She has no idea what he even needs at four thirty in the morning, or why he’s waking her specifically up. He knows how important skipping the night is to her! Gem personally can’t think of much that would be more important than that.

But, obviously, Oli does think something’s important enough to wake her up and risk her wrath. So she’s gonna get over the fact that it's four in the morning and help him anyways. Because what are neighbors for? (Even if she hates being awake at night because the darkness sucks…… but Oli needs help. And Oli does not suck, unlike the nighttime.)

“What is it?” She grumbles, still in her nightgown and arms crossed. Gem had rushed to the door so quickly, she hadn’t had time to stretch her wings out. So, while Oli is talking, she does just that; stretching each butterfly wing out behind her carefully. Her visitor pays the stretches no mind, too caught up in his mission to care.

“Well, you’re certainly happy to see me.” Oli remarks, looking unusually nervous. There’s a smile on his face, one that does a horrible job of hiding that. So does his body language, with the way he’s fidgeting. And Gem knows from experience a nervous Oli usually means he messed up and needs her help. Or he just died and can’t get his stuff back. That was a more common occurrence than him messing up, and would explain why he banged on her front door so loud. And why Oli is up at this hour.

“It’s four thirty in the morning, Oli.” Gem says, finishing her stretches. Good, that’s better. She can help Oli now that she doesn’t have to worry about her delicate wings not working as they should. If he did die somewhere, flying was probably gonna be the best way to find and get his stuff back. If he died at all. Gem is still kinda banking on her other option being true.

“But I’m your dearest chosen brother! And you’re my dearest chosen sister! Surely you must miss me!?” Oli almost whines the words out, dramatically placing a hand over his heart. Like her wounds had physically wounded him. Gem, well used to his theatrics, only rolls her eyes in amusement. Good to see he’s still got it at four AM.

“I saw you yesterday.” She points out, remembering the honeycomb and wool they had traded. Oli’s spare wool that was still sitting in her house, unused. The wool she’d planned to build with after she’d woken up this morning. A plan that clearly needed to be thrown out the window. “What did you do now?”

“I need help.” Oli admits, and does not elaborate further. Strange. That’s pretty strange. “I need help” is usually followed by some tale of woe, a tale of how Oli is just a poor boy who needs his amazing friends to help him. No tale is definitely weird by Oli standards. Very, very weird and out of character. Enough to get Gem a smidge worried about whatever happened.

“With what?” She prompts, raising an eyebrow. Gem expects to be told there’s somehow a warden at his base, or that his dragon egg actually hatched and that now he has a baby dragon. Maybe he let a wither lose somewhere in the world. Something big and absolutely disastrous that will take up the rest of her night and half of her day.

“....boys.” Oli mutters, quickly glancing away from her. His face is starting to heat up, indicted by the twinge of red starting to appear on his cheeks. Boys catch Gem off guard, and she blinks at him, processing. This is certainly a far cry from the hypothetical stray wither she’d been anticipating, and a lot less likely to kill her, to.

“Boys?” Gem perks up once she’s processed the word, forgetting her earlier grievances about the time. Boys and helping with boys were very important and valid reasons to wake somebody up at four in the morning. So were girls, helping with girls, and romance help with any other gender in between. Especially if it means Oli’s love life is actually real and not just a lie he made up. “Which boy?"

Oli’s looking at the ground now, his face as red as a tomato. It’s very fun seeing him so embarrassed! He never blushes like that over anything, even when the whole server teases him! She can’t believe a boy got him so flustered, and that he’s asking her for romance advice. Gem is so good at love advice— “uh…Pix.”

Gem blinks, surprised. “Really?” She exclaims, caught off guard. She was not expecting him to say Pix , of all people. Not that Pix is a bad guy, personality or looks wise. It’s just….she didn’t know he and Oli were so close. Honestly the archaeologist wasn’t even on her mental list she’d quickly made. She was even half expecting him to say fWhip instead. (Oli would absolutely fall for the guy he’s in debt to and enemies with. The idea being so painfully in character for him, Gem is surprised her loser brother wasn’t down bad already.)

“What’s so bad about Pix!?” Oli nearly yells at, looking her in the eyes again. His far has gotten redder, somehow, blushing all the way to his ears.

“Nothing, nothing!” She says, holding back a laugh. Oli must really be into Pix, if he’s getting that defensive that easily. “I was just expecting you to say Scott, or Sausage."

“They are both handsome.” Oli admits, sighing quite dramatically as he does. “But, neither of them have stolen my heart. Quite a shame for them.”

“If you say so.” Gem nods, wondering if Scott in particular would consider it a shame. Because Sausage definitely would, at least for a little bit. “Also, why do you need my help in talking to boys?”

“Because you have more experience!” Oli says, practically pouting as he talks. And he is right about that, Gem has plenty of experience with boys under her belt. She has plenty of experience with girls as well, if anyone else so desires any help with women. “Plus, according to Scott, Pix wouldn’t know a flirt or innuendo if it slapped him in the face!”

“Well, he’s right about that.” Gem hums, remembering a story Scott had told her once; where Pix had ignored his flirting multiple times, the archeologist thinking of nothing other than retrieving his stolen emeralds. (That Scott had totally not taken, by the way.) That man was not beating the asexual or the rock autism allegations, like at all. He was actually losing to them quite terribly. Gem didn’t know if it was more embarrassing or more impressive.

“Then you can help me!” Oli says, signature smile returning to his face. Good, he seemed to have gotten over his nervousness. Gem didn’t like seeing him so nervous and, for lack of a better term, un-theatrical. It was honestly a little bit unsettling to witness whenever she did. “Now let me inside, please? So we can talk boys?”

“I guess I can let you in.” Gem says, stepping out of the doorway. Oli scurries inside, hurrying like he hates the darkness as much as she does. Gem, amused by him again, closes the door behind them and leads him towards her bedroom. They were gonna have to get comfortable for this. Woo-ing Pix was not going to be an easy task, not in the slightest.

“Okay, how do you want me to help?” She says, sitting down on her bed. Gem crosses hers, getting comfortable like she intended, and pats the spot next to her. After a pause to take his instrument off, Gem having no idea why he felt the need to bring it, he takes the invitation and sits next to her. Good, now they’re both ready for romance talk.

“Do you think you could set us up on a date?” Oli asks, fiddling with the sheets. It seems his nerves are still there, then, just less intense than before. It only makes sense that he’s anxious, really. This is his crush they’re talking about! Most people get nervous when talking about the person they like, Gem included. She hopes Oli is less embarrassed by the nerves than she is when she has a crush.

“That might be hard.” Gem hums thoughtfully, grabbing for a pen and pad on her nightstand. She needs to start writing down date ideas, if this is the route they're going. And she needs to write down every embarrassing thing Oli says, so she can blackmail him with it later! He’s very gone for Pix and never living it down! “Pix barely leaves his empire.”

“We could have a date there.” Oli suggests, his fingers now drumming against the bed. Gem can’t tell if this is the first thought and he’s going with it, or if Oli’s extensively thought out first date ideas. Knowing him, the former option feels a lot more likely. “He could show me all his artifacts or something.”

“Maybe.” Gem thinks it over for a minute, mentally going over everything she knows about Pix and Oli in her head. She also writes down his date idea on her notepad, adding a small question mark next to it. “You wouldn’t be interested in that though, you’d just wanna stare at him. And you don’t wanna give the impression you don’t care.”

“That’s true…” Oli admits, frowning. He seems to be rethinking his one and only date idea, drumming against the sheets even harder. The bard clearly wants this to be a perfect first date, or as perfect as possible, if his nerves are anything to go by. And Gem’s determined to help him make it perfect! No sibling of hers would have a lackluster first date with anybody, not on her watch! Even if Pix being a bit of a recluse made it kinda hard.

“Maybe you could meet him on the Great Bridge for something? Or you could help him build?” Gem throws out two more ideas, writing them down as well. She writes down a few more, like gifting him emerald ore, and then scratches them out. The first date needs to be plausible. Getting a block of emerald ore is kind of a challenge. Plus, Pix probably had most of the nearby, easy to find ones already.

“But what if I mess up his castle or something?” Oli frets, daunted by the idea of helping with Pix’s research and restoration. Okay then, those idea’s won’t work, because if Oli is that nervous he will mess something up.. Gem scratches them out too, and tries to think of some better ones. She starts writing down basic date ideas, some she’s even tried before.

It is in that moment when she does that Oli’s dramatic streak kicks in again, funnily enough.Oli flops down dramatically, burying his face in her pillow.

“This is hopeless, Gem! I’m never gonna get a date!” He wails, words slightly muffled. It seems that, for now, her brother has chosen to wallow. She’ll have to encourage him to try the dating ideas later, then. Maybe they can come up with some better ones after they've rested and had a good breakfast!

“I’ll throw in a good word next time he visits the church, maybe that’ll peak his interest.” Gem says, giving the bard a few comforting pats on the shoulder. She returns her pen and notepad back to the nightstand, leaving it there for later.

“Oh, you're too good for me.” Oli mumbles, lifting his head slightly. He buries his face in the pillow again right after. He must’ve really stressed himself out about this, Gem thinks. Usually it takes like, an hour for him to give up this badly, not two less than great ideas. Oli was someone very used to stupid ideas failing on him, after all.

“I know I am.” Gem says, giving him a final shoulder pat. She wonders if she should start her morning routine, since Oli seems intent on staying for a bit. Gem isn’t quite sure how much time has passed, but the bees and sheep do have a schedule and do have to be attended to at their usual times. Oh, and the cows. Can’t forget about her little cows.

There’s a sudden buzz from a communicator, causing both of them to perk up. Gem looks towards her own, wondering who else is awake and would be messaging her at this time. Sausage maybe. Or Katherine needing a monster slaying buddy. It might be fWhip as well, considering he has no sense of time down in the caves. She has plenty of messages from him at ungodly hours to prove it, too.

“Gem he just messaged me!” Oli squeaks, turning her attention away from her own communicator. The bard has sat up in bed again, excitedly staring down at the device. There’s partially stars in his eyes as he reads over what Pix sent, hands vibrating with excitement. So much so Gem momentarily worries about him dropping the communicator.

“What’d he say!?” She asks, trying to peer over the screen. But Oli jerks the device closer to him as she does, frantically starting to type his response. From what she can see of the screen, Gem counts about five or six typos and accidental key smashes before he hits send, Oli’s face slowly turning beet red once more.

Oli practically squeals in excitement, whipping his head back towards her. He's adorable, acting like a teenager awkwardly talking to their first crush. “He wants to go to the festival with me, just the two of us! And I said yes!”

“Oli! You have a date!” Gem’s wings flare out behind her in glee, moving to tackle and hug him. The Festival of the Rift! Why hadn’t she thought of that! A festival was such a good, and adorable, first date spot! And Oli was hosting it! He couldn’t really mess anything up there! Oh Pix had such brilliant date ideas!

“I have a date!” Oli repeats, hugging her back. He makes sure not to drop the communicator. Hold onto the item like his life depends on it. And in his mind it probably does, since the only evidence of their date being real is in there. Gem won’t be surprised if he uses the messages to brag to a few of their friends, either.

Gem moves away with a smile, returning to her spot on the bed. She’s practically as excited as Oli is, and she doesn’t even have a date! He does! Her brother has a date!

“Wait, why is Pix up at five AM?” She asks, glancing at the clock. It had, somehow, only been about thirty minutes since Oli knocked on her door, and it was no lighter outside. Gem can’t say she’s surprised at Pix being up so early though, just curious. The archaeologist had a lot of weird habits, and doing mysterious things in the night was absolutely one of them.

“Because he sleeps even less than I do.” Oli says, eyes still glued to his communicator. He’s typing again, most likely sending a message to Pix. If the two of them aren’t at least flirting, Gem’s gonna be disappointed. And if they are flirting, she wants to see all their dumb pick up lines. And Oli’s bad, most likely very horrible attempts at being suave and a charmer. She definitely wants to see that.

“You already have two things in common then. Not sleeping and being weird.” Gem says. They really are perfect for each other then, if they’re both up so early. And, hey, maybe if they start dating, Oli will start bothering Pix with his four thirty in the morning problems, and finally let her get some sleep. That would be great.

“We’re a match made in heaven!” Oli giggles, and finally puts the communicator down. It seems the conversation has ended, but Oli’s excitement has not. He swings his legs off the bed, needing somewhere for all that extra energy to go. Gem can’t help but hold back a giggle as she watches him. He must really love Pix, to be so excited about this.

“Yeah, you are.” Gem agrees, and starts a new page in her notepad. One on how to be the best wing-woman the world has ever seen. Oli had wanted her boy advice, after all, and he’s gonna get the whole package.

[kellanved-ammanas]

TF2 Drabbles: Spy/Soldier & Soldier & Spy - Stealthy (Emesis Blue)

Summary: ooh id love to see soldiers pov on this

[A/N] As can probably be guess from the title's parenthesis addition, the requester was referring to the Emesis Blue drabble. They were probably hoping for something more angsty but this happened instead.

~

Yes, the situation as described by the Other Medic was more dire than they’d been expecting. And Scout’s corpse as well as what was left of the Other Engineers made it even more clear that this was not a nice alternate universe they’d found themselves in. But what part of that warranted this discussion of possibly heading home right now? Or more like waiting right here until the machine was recharged and thus ready to take them back.

Soldier had already made his opinion known and no one had seemed to care. He could insist on it and normally he would’ve but he wanted to meet himself. It had taken him a bit to understand the concept of alternate realities but now that he did, he wasn’t leaving this one until he met himself. … Unless other him was dead like Scout, in which case, he wanted to see his dead body and wasn’t going to leave until he did.

No one seemed to noticed as he backpedaled out of the conversation or when he reached the door. As he started down the hall that would lead the sewer entrance – the stealthy way out of the fort – no one called him back either. He was sneaky! Spy would be proud when Soldier told him later.

Soon he couldn’t hear them anymore. He kept walking quietly anyway though, like Spy had shown him. This was a dangerous place after all; if he alerted an enemy and thus had to fire his rocket launcher to kill them it would draw everyone’s attention and then his stealthy exit would be wasted.

This fort was laid out a bit differently than the one he knew but it was still close enough that he soon found the stairs leading down towards the sewers. He froze halfway down. The Other RED Sniper was seated on a box, his rifle held at the ready to fire down the sewer tunnel; camping like the coward he was.

Soldier lifted an arm to grab his rocket launcher and pull it off his back to fire but stopped before actually doing so. He hadn’t been noticed and was committed to be sneaky for as long as possible. Letting go of the rocket launcher he instead went for his shovel as he resumed his approach. It unfolded with a soft click but the Other RED Sniper didn’t notice, he was too focused on whoever he was waiting for.

He remained frozen right up until Soldier was next to him. Which by then, it was far too late. Before he could finish swinging his rifle around, Soldier hit him in the head with the shovel. He crumbled dropping his gun with nothing more than a small clatter; no accidental firing. Spy really was gonna be proud of him upon hearing this tale.

Soldier crouched down to turn him over, keeping one hand on the shovel ready to smack him again if need be. … He was still breathing but that was the only sign of life. After a hit like that he shouldn’t wake for a few hours at least. Leaving Soldier free to sneak off down the sewer and find himself.

He hopped up and headed off, careful not to splash upon stepping into the water. Now that he was basically home free though, how was he going to find himself? The BLU base would be a good place to look first but what if he wasn’t there? Or what if he was dead, how was he going to find…

Voices, too quiet to make out what they were saying, came from around the bed. Dang it! Seems he wasn’t home free yet after all. Gripping the shovel in both hands he pressed his back against the wall as he reached the bend. Now all he had to do was wait for them to come around it and surprise them with a whack to the back of the head.

Except if there was talking there was probably more than one. And what if it wasn’t an enemy? He didn’t want to accidentally smack any friends when Respawn obviously wasn’t working otherwise Other Scout’s death wouldn’t have bothered Other Medic as much as it clearly had. So maybe just a quick peek wouldn’t hurt.

He sidled a bit closer peeked around the corner, lifting his helmet up so he could see better. Two figures were heading the tunnel, barely visible in the darkness, but heading towards the soft lights in the corner, he recognized them anyway. Seems finding and meeting himself wasn’t going to be difficult after all.

“Who goes there?” Other Spy said as he lifted one hand to halt Other Soldier while he drew a gun with the other.

“A friend,” Soldier said with a smile as he stepped out. “You’re me from another reality.” He pointed to Other Soldier. “Or I guess to you I’m you from another reality.”

Other Spy didn’t lower the gun and cut in before Other Soldier could reply. “How are you here?”

“Engie built a machine that can travel to other realities and it carries passengers. Everyone was talking about possibly leaving after we found Other Scout dead but I refuse to leave until I’ve met myself. So hello me, nice to meet me.” He stepped forward holding out a hand for other him to shake.

Other Soldier hesitated for a moment before shrugging and taking it. His grip was firm, returning Soldier’s hard squeeze perfectly. “I don’t understand how you can be me but if you say so then hello me.”

“It is hard to understand. Ask Spy, he explains it good.” He’d even used little drawings to help make it make sense because he was great like that. Surely this Spy would do the same.

Other Spy only frowned when Other Soldier looked at him though. But he did finally lower the gun even if didn’t put it away. “No, I don’t think I can explain. I don’t think I even believe you.” He gave Soldier one of those impossible to read looks of his. Not that any of his looks were easy to read.

“But he does look like me.”

“There are… other explanations for that.”

“My Spy can explain then. You should come with me to meet him.” Why wouldn’t Spy want to meet himself too? That’s what they were all here for. “By the way, the RED Sniper, your RED Sniper, was camping this tunnel waiting for you. I knocked him out and was stealthy as I did. Until I hit him, I didn’t make a single sound.”

Other Spy’s expression didn’t change. … Well, he wasn’t the Spy, Soldier was trying to impress anyway. “We’re here on important business but I suppose, if there are people already trying to kill us, they know we’re here so a quick detour to figure out what your deal is can’t hurt. Lead the way.”

“Roger that.” Soldier saluted and started marching back down the tunnel.

“And stay stealthy!”

Soldier slowed his march and switched to walking quietly as he could again. Stealth he could do, he was even starting to get good at it… sort of anyway.

[wwalkingdread]

Ok I got a good one, you don’t have to do this now u know I know ur busy 😂♥️. But how about a Marlon reaction to a reader ( who sleeps in the office with him ) getting changed in front of him and he sees a tattoo they never told him about. Like the character had kept it hidden because they felt that he would hate it ? Thanks if you do it🥰

❥ It’s Our Routine.

Characters: Marlon

Description: Marlon discovers that his partner has a tattoo and he wishes that he found out about it sooner.

Warning: Just cussing!!

Notes: I’ve had tattoos on my mind recently… My step-brother wants to take me to get one for my birthday <3 I doubt I’ll do it, but the idea is fun.

If you don’t like the tattoo design then you can just picture it as something else, it won’t matter!! I thought Marlon would like those incredibly edgy tattoo designs. Sorry about the ending, I understand if it seems a bit rushed and awkward. I also think I rambled a lot here? I’m nervous because I’m literally so tired. Hope it’s alright!! <3

You had been sleeping in Marlon’s office for about a week. It was nice. Marlon was often holed up in his office, sleepless nights plaguing him. You were there to soothe him into bed, brushing your finger through his hair and ridding him of any tangles. You liked being there, talking to him as you drifted off into sleep, and he liked listening. It was routine, and it worked. You’d wake up, limbs entangled in limbs, and just seeing each other was enough to get energised to start the day. The only downside was when you two had to get changed, changing into your pyjamas.

Changing was still awkward between you two, but it was progressively getting a little more casual, no longer feeling too embarrassed to not speak at all. You’d make small talk, both with your backs to each other. Another part of the routine was trying to shake away the awkwardness of being close to naked and in the same room and being aware of it.

Right after dinner, Marlon had approached you. Marlon brushed your hair away from your forehead, pressing a kiss to the uncovered spot. He told you he’d be heading up to bed early, exhausted. You understood. There was a horde that formed in the safe zone and Marlon was almost caught in the middle of it. It was stressful for everybody, but for him especially. You wanted to finish this quick card game with Louis, who grinned when seeing you two interact. He loved getting you by yourself, telling you stories from when Marlon was young, stories Marlon’s ego wouldn’t allow him to tell.

You found out Marlon had eaten slugs before, something he comfortably admitted during a game of War, but Louis let you know that it wasn’t during apocalyptic times like you had assumed, but it was on the baseball field. Marlon just kind of reached down and… Did it. Being an attention-seeking ten-year-old boy meant he did tons of stupid shit and Louis had plenty of stories to tell you, stories Marlon hated.

After barely winning and Louis letting you in on more childhood tales, you finally went up to bed, Marlon already in his black shirt and boxers and laying on the mattress, laying on his back and tapping on his thigh with his finger. He seemed to be distracted, probably reliving the event that happened earlier in his mind on repeat like a broken record.

“I didn’t expect you to still be awake.” Marlon jumped, finally blinking for the first time in a few minutes. He turned his head toward you, smiling as a welcome,

“Yeah, me neither.” He groaned, “I was fuckin’ exhausted before… I’ve gotten used to you being here, I guess.”

You blushed at his words but turned your head so he couldn’t see. His tone was softer, more genuine. You then turned fully, tugging at the hem of your shirt.

“I’m, uh, gonna get ready for bed now… So…” Marlon didn’t say anything, just closing his eyes as he lay on his side, but you took his silence as compliance with what you two usually did, to not look at the other person. When your shirt was tugged up to your shoulder blades you heard Marlon’s quiet whisper,

“Holy shit…” Marlon couldn’t hold in his amazement, an incredibly elaborate skull was drawn on your back with black ink, with barbed wire and possibly a spiderweb-like design detailing the edges. You felt your face heat up, quickly pulling your shirt down,

“Mar-!? Hey, dude! Don’t fucking look!” Marlon sat up at your outburst, realising the implication,

“I wasn’t! Not like that! I just-! Uh, when’d you get that…?” He spluttered, the subject shifting,

“… Get what…?” You felt yourself gripping your clothes tightly, suddenly self-conscious. That was when it clicked,

“Shit. I completely forgot…” You went back to taking your shirt off, trying to catch a glance at the tattoo on your back. There wasn’t any use in hiding it anymore, it’s not exactly something you could explain away. Marlon wasn’t used to you changing in front of him, always trying to respect your privacy, as you did him, so he could feel himself… Staring. You chuckled, only being able to see a faint smudge with the angle. You figured you looked incredibly awkward, with a sigh of defeat you spoke,

“Oh, it was a few years back.” You didn’t want to go into detail about the small community you called home for years, though you looked back on the people with fondness. You found yourself smiling, “Guy named Ricky was a crazy tattoo artist, I asked him if I could get one when I was eighteen and he said ‘it’s the fucking apocalypse, there are no age limits!’ And that was it… Hurt like hell, but not as bad as I thought it would.” Ricky was an outlandish character, never caring about the consequences and always living in the moment, but he especially lived in his art.

You remember how angry got when people found out he tattooed you, but they backed down eventually. You were so happy with the result for them to be… Too angry.

“I was an edgy kid.” You added,

“It’s fucking sick… Reminds me of the shit I was into back when it was all normal…” Marlon’s lips curled into a small smile, remembering the collection of death metal band shirts he had when he was young. He’d etched the logos into the office walls, but what you had was completely different. It was art, actual art. You could spot the warmth in his eyes and felt yourself shying away, breaking eye contact while letting his eyes stay on your back,

“Ugh, I got it when I, like, fifteen. I thought you might find it stupid, considering I was a kid and all…” Marlon gaped,

“Man, you were fifteen? I would’ve killed for a tattoo then… Fuck, I’d kill for one now.”

“You can look at mine all you like until you can finally get one. Who knows, it might not be long…” You laughed at the thought. Marlon with a tattoo? It was fitting. He didn’t seem to believe your optimistic words, but you felt scarred hands creep their way to your waist, tugging you backwards, you yelled as Marlon pulled you to his chest, heart leaping out of your throat.

“Fuck, Marlon…!” You hissed out, trying to stay quiet in the late hours. Marlon held you tightly, pressing a kiss to your neck and feeling your pulse rapidly throb back at him,

“I wanted to say I’m alright with just looking at yours… I didn’t mean to scare you.” He laughed into your shoulder, his finger tracing the design on your back. Sitting in a comfortable silence brief moment, Marlon opened his mouth to speak, a movement you could feel on your skin. It took him a minute to say the words that lingered on his mind, “Do you think…? Fuck, never mind.”

“What…?”

His head fell close to your back like he was shielding himself away from your gaze, “No, it sounds weird…” Turning around, you smirked at him, your hands reaching his jawline, propping it upward to make him look at you.

“Well, now you have to tell me, mullet boy…”

“Uh, it’s- Hey. Leave my hair out of it. It’s… I wanted to ask if you could sleep with your shirt off…? Not in a weird way, I know we’re still not there yet, I just… Want to see it.” His face was red, his polar-blue eyes trying to find something in the room he could stare at, anything to avoid your eyes, he didn’t want to see your reaction.

“You can… See it.” It was embarrassing to say, but you could see the relief that painted Marlon’s face, his eyes no longer darting around the room. You told him to close his eyes again, and to keep them closed. You quickly changed out of your jeans before returning to the mattress, the blanket loosely laying on your waist. Marlon’s eyes were fixated on your back, his hand resting on your waist.

“I can’t believe you’ve been hiding this from me…” He said in a whisper,

“I mean, I like it. It’s got good memories attached, y’know? But it’s super edgy. Totally something a fifteen-year-old would want as their first tattoo…”

“Are you kidding?” He huffed out a laugh, “I’d get something just like that now…” Marlon’s fingernail was tracing the black lines, whether they were thick or thin, his finger would map them out. It was nice, to see him treat you so gently, appreciating even the more personal parts of yourself, the parts you were hesitant to present to him. Even the next night Marlon wanted to see your tattoo. You were surprised at his forwardness, but you supposed he’s already seen your bareback so he had no need to be so nervous about it this time. Of course, you let him, it was flattering to see him so… Intrigued; Eyes half-adjusted to the dark, tracing whatever he could make out in the darkness as you drifted to sleep, soothed by his light scratching. You could even see himself lightly tracing a pattern on himself in a similar way as he tried to fall asleep like he was picturing himself with a tattoo, almost as if he wanted to match you in some way.

“I’ll make sure you get that tattoo.” You’d say, biting down a yawn, “I promise.”

The words, the light touches… It became routine.

[multi-lefaiye]

i have kept this question in for far too long and now i must ask: who is Spencer Fucking Middleton

hello thank you for asking, but also i am so sorry because you have unlocked the part of me that Will Not Shut Up About Fictional Gas Station People

short answer: spencer middleton is one of my favorite characters from the Tales From the Gas Station series

long answer: okay so Spencer Fucking Middleton. he is one of the main/recurring antagonists of one of my all-time favorite horror/comedy series, Tales From the Gas Station. he's mean, nasty, stinky evil man who kills a Lot of people and does the dirty work for various evil entities and gods. and i love him so much it's fucking unreal.

my blog title is kind of like. poking light fun at myself b/c part of me used to be paranoid of someone accusing me of being a spencer middleton apologist and trying to excuse the horrific evil shit he does in canon, so i just decided to go ahead and own that. yeah i think spencer did a lot wrong but he should do more things wrong actually. (just kidding i don't, i think he should see a therapist and calm down a bit)

i still need to finish reading the series in its entirety but spencer like. i used to hate him so much but he's grown on me so much!!!! like. i do think i'm reading into him probably more than the author intended, but there's just something about him that makes me really like him.

(by the 'reading into him too much' part i think that like... the author did not intend for spencer to have redeeming qualities, but i genuinely think if spencer had actually gotten support and probably some therapy instead of being treated like a monster his whole life and ostracized from everyone, he probably wouldn't have started hurting people. can't be sure, and i don't think that excuses his actions on any level b/c he made his own choices, but still.)

like. ok i'm gonna describe some of my favorite Spencer Moments below the cut to try and explain what i mean. under the cut b/c because some of them are violent and i wanna be careful. i won't go into detail about it but uhh content warning there's gonna be mentions of murder/death and general Violence™

SO ONE OF MY ALL-TIME FAVORITE SPENCER MOMENTS IS IN BOOK TWO. oops caps

but anyway like... okay so the main characters found spencer bloody and bruised and unconscious, and they tied him to a chair just in case he'd try to attack them once he gets up again. and when he wakes up he starts IMMEDIATELY going full Gaslight Gatekeep Girlboss.

like... gosh ok this requires context- the tl;dr of the context is that in the first book, jack (the main character and the lil guy in my icon) accidentally killed someone spencer was working with, kieffer. WELL thing is most people don't know that happened, but spencer does, and he immediately used that to start slowly turning people against jack and regain control of the situation. i don't have the book with me right now so i will retype the dialogue from memory:

spencer: let me guess, jack told you i kill people.

rosa: he said you're dangerous.

spencer: dangerous? no, you've got it all wrong! i came out here to keep an eye on him, to make sure HE doesn't hurt anyone! how do you know you can trust him?

jack: hey, asshole, do you know how much it sucks to live with what you did to my leg?

spencer: awww well i bet it doesn't suck as much as what you did to those people you killed. why don't we ask kieffer? or my old boss?

jack: hey, i didn't kill your old boss!

rosa: ... what about kieffer?

spencer: [shit-eating grin]

--

okay i'm sorry this is so long i just love that scene??? like. something about a character who is in a situation where they have no control IMMEDIATELY finding a way to regain control just by being a manipulative piece of shit. i love that.

my other favorite spencer moment is the one a few scenes later where he's in a fight with a shapeshifter that looks exactly like him, and this MOTHERFUCKER really pauses to remark about how hot he is. i love him. i hate him. i love him.

--

anyway ok last thing. i promise. i'm so sorry for how long this is. i just want to share a tupperbot joke i made with spencer that still makes me laugh.

[Image Description: A screenshot of a discord message creating using tupperbot. The message is from the character Spencer Middleton, and it reads: "I came out here to attack people and I'm honestly having such a good time right now." End ID.]

[honeyhenry]

Sweet as Pie

With some much needed time off, and excitement crisp in the air, you had flown over to Jersey with your husband Henry for Christmas to stay with his family, and they had been delighted to have you both back on his homeland. You settled in to Henry’s old room, unpacking all of the gifts you had brought for his family. You knew his nieces and nephews were going to love you even more when they saw what would be lying for them under the grand Christmas tree in the living room. Secretly, you were their favourite - not that they’d ever tell their poor Uncle Henry.

The large home is tidy, but scattered with family members in every room, all feeling at home in the place where Henry and his brothers grew up. You’d been able to catch up with the relatives you didn’t often see, and promise to spend some quality time together over the holidays.

It was so sweet to watch all the children’s faces light up on Christmas morning. You were glad that you and Henry could be spared an extra few moments in bed, being the only childless couple in the house. Yet moments later, Kal had leapt onto the bed - much to Henry’s annoyance; “down Kal, careful now” -  as soon as he had heard the pattering of his small friends’ feet out in the hallways. And what Kal wanted, you usually gave him.

Which is why, at 6.45am, Kal dragged you and in turn, dragged Henry down to the living room where the rest of the family sat, with the kids lit up like the Christmas tree that their plethora of presents laid under, grinning to their bleary eyed parents who’d barely had a wink of sleep on the cold winter morning.

“You’d think after 6 years it gets easier” you’d heard someone murmur, and so you’d decided to put the kettle on for those poor souls. Luckily for you, 45 minutes later, you’re able to snuggle back into bed with Henry, warming your feet on his legs to annoy him. You kiss the offended pout right off his face, before feeling his beefy arms wrap around your waist. It’s the last thing you had recalled, as you dozed off in his arms only seconds later, feeling his fingertips rub against your hip softly.

------

The kitchen was bustling with about 10 bodies all completing their various tasks; cooking, washing, baking, roasting, timing and tasting. Well, you had kicked your husband out of the kitchen for sneaking a taste of your dessert before it was ready, chastising him out of the door. 

“You can either help properly or go and play with your siblings” you had bargained while he’d grinned, leaning against the doorframe. He raised an eyebrow, looking you up and down like you were a pastry he was keen to ravish himself; “But who is going to compliment the chef?”

With that, you’d folded your arms across your chest, blushing at his words. The cheek of that man was not lost on you, and it still got you every single time. 

And you loved him for it.

------

The meal was a total success. A wonderful soup starter, followed by a small appetiser, and then the most magnificent turkey. Feeding over 20 people - now probably closer to 30 if you were to include the children who were growing up so quickly in front of your eyes - had proven to be difficult, but it was a challenge the family had clearly tackled before.

You had been so excited to prepare the desserts, and present your dish. However, halfway through the day, somewhere between the main course, watching your nephews with their new toys, and the dessert course of the delicious homemade Christmas feast, you’d fallen asleep on the sofa completely tuckered out. Your legs rested on Henry’s lap as he’d covered you with a hand-knitted blanket that he’d once slept with as a boy. Henry’s mother speaks up, careful not to wake you. She has a gleam in her eye, not that you or even Henry notice, too wrapped up in your own cozy sleepy bubble together by the fire.

“Dessert can wait” his mother says to the gaggle of children and adults swarming the living room, “go out and get some fresh air.”

She turns to the children, specifically.  “Do not disturb your Aunt, okay?”

------

Your cheeks are warm as the fire heats the living room, and after a particularly competitive game of rugby with his brothers, nieces, and nephews, Henry quietly checks on you. He had left the room earlier when you had shifted your legs slightly, taking the opportunity to get some fresh air himself. It had indeed been a long day. His brothers had questioned your tiredness briefly, making sure you were well. With the knowledge that you were simply sleepy, they had begun to joke that you obviously just couldn’t keep up with the rest of the Cavills - despite having married into the family for 2 years and been around for the holidays for 4. Henry had promised them that you were fine -  that you still weren’t used to the long trip back to the island for the holidays. 

Not exactly a fib, he’d thought.

Kal was laid beside you, loyal as ever, watching out for anyone who may disturb your rest, sending a rumbling growl towards anyone who approached. Except Henry. 

While checking on you now to make sure you were still comfortable and resting well, he smiled, taking a picture of you wrapped up cosily by the fire, at peace in his childhood home, completely at rest and ease with him and his closest relatives. Petting Kal softly, he thanks him for looking after his mama so well.

“So?”

His mother, he hears. She’s alone for once as there was no one rushing to check for updates on food, no enquiries about the house, or any funny stories woven into a ten minute tale from her grandchildren. She’s alone, with her hands on her hips and her eyebrows raised.

Henry stands up straight. There’s nothing that can wipe the tremendously cheesy grin off of his face. He can’t even speak. Even after dessert had finished, you were the one who would be doing all the talking, the telling, the explaining.

“Mum-”

“Henry. She’s not ill. and i know you’re sensible enough to not be up the whole night with your wife...at least under my roof. So…?”

He looks over at your peaceful form, and then scratches his neck, blushing at being caught out, but also ecstatic that he can finally say something about it.

“She’s eleven weeks. We’re expecting a baby next summer”

With that, his mother almost leaps with joy over to her son, who she hugs closely despite the obvious height barrier. 

“Oh i knew it, I knew it! I’m so happy for you Henry, for you both. I thought, ‘She normally loves that bread for starter’, hm? Oh my boy! A father!”

With her proclamation, Henry finds that he has tears in his eyes as he holds his Mother close, finally glad that it’s not just a little secret between the two of you - well, the two of you and Kal, who had already been a stellar protector and big brother.

“We had planned to tell everyone after dessert…we’ve known for nearly 2 months and it’s been killing me that I couldn’t say. We’ve had to be so careful-“ 

“Henry?” he hears your quiet voice from across the room, as Kal’s collar jingles. He turns to see you sitting up from your nap with Kal booping his nose at your stomach. You’re scratching at his head, thanking him for being such a wonderful boy, while looking up at the two Cavills.

It takes less than a second for you to realise what is happening in front of you. Your jaw drops and louder than your previous call, you exclaim, “Henry you told her?”

“She worked it out! Practically forced it out of me.” he grins, holding his hands up as his Mother pretends to smack his arm.

You stand, watching not to step on Kal or any stray Legos that your nephews have left strewn across the floor, and walk over to hug her. She’s been so caring and kind since you’ve joined the family all those years ago, and you know that she will be an incredible Grandma to your little one. 

Breaking apart from the hug, you find Henry pulling you to him carefully, letting you melt into his side. Kissing your forehead he asks, for your ears only, “Good sleep? No pains? Sickness?” He has a small crease of worry between his brows and you always do your best to soften that small tense area with regular updates and sweet kisses.

“Yeah i’m okay honey” you reassure him, patting your stomach, “this ones growing up a storm in there”. 

And they really are. Henry’s mother cannot believe she’s seeing it, and mostly can’t believe she missed it. You’re already showing, but a large loose sweater -probably one of Henry’s old ones that has since become yours - over your dress, has hidden a sizeable roundness to your stomach that you were excited to finally show.

“How did I miss this!” Your mother-in-law gasps, causing you to grin, and Henry’s chest to puff with utter pride and excitement.

“I know it’s bordering on having too much to eat, but we’ve been hiding it for a couple weeks now. Doctor thinks that baby’s gonna be big. Just like their daddy.” You explain, giving your stomach another gentle rub, surprised to find Henry’s hand there on it already.

If you’d thought Kal was protective, Henry was another thing altogether.

He’s still grinning as you kiss him, before you pull away to speak more to his mother about all the details, especially when you’ll be coming over to Jersey again. Kai follows you closely, making sure you’re staying safe. He’s known that there’s something up with his mama, there has been for weeks, especially with the way his master looks after you now.

Henry, deciding to be sneaky while the two women in his life are currently distracted chatting, takes another taste of the dessert you made, now set out on the kitchen. The worst part is, he thinks he’s got away with it.

He realises he doesn’t the second you smack his hand from the dessert.

“Strike two Mr Cavill! Step away from the pie.”

“And if I don’t?” he raises an eyebrow, watching your reactions as you hold a butter knife in your hand trying to look at least vaguely threatening - failing miserably. “Maybe i’ll strike out tonight, hm?” he continues with that wonderfully mischievous glint in his eye, taking cautious steps towards you. “You look even sweeter than your pie with this little bump here. Maybe I’ll have a taste later after all.” 

Henry’s mother had not been right in her assumptions, for under her roof, you and Henry were not sensible at all.

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

please let me know what u think! i am v nervous to post but excited!!!

[dream-a-little-bigger-x]

Just a Thought Away | Owen Patrick Joyner

Request:  Could you do a soulmate au with Charlie or Owen, whichever you're more comfortable with, where they can hear each other's thoughts or the music they listen to?

A/N: Made it an Owen one shot since I don’t have many requests for Owen! Hope this is what you expected and you like it! :) 

Pairing: Owen Joyner x Fem!reader

Warnings: Very minor swearing 

Words: 4,175

Another note: Anything in bold and italics is a thought! 

Songs used: Pump It - Black Eyed Peas

Growing up, Y/N’s mother told her these stories about soulmates and how every person on this earth would be assigned a soulmate by their guardian angel at 16. People would be able to hear their thoughts and the songs they were listening to or singing would be playing in their head as though it was just stuck in their head.  Of course, as a child, Y/N used to believe her every word and would be clinging to those words. She’d fantasize about her soulmate and where she’d meet them or what music they’d be into. She’d keep her eyes on every person in Middle School and even High School, trying to see if she could just find them. Not like there would be any physical notabilities, but she liked fantasizing about it.  By the time Y/N turned 16, she had almost forgotten about the whole soulmate thing. Her birthday was months ago and nothing ever happened. She never heard a song play in her head she didn’t know or hadn’t had any thoughts that didn’t belong to her. She was pretty certain all of those soulmate stories her mother told her were fake.  Until July 19th 2016. That’s when she first starts noticing some things. To start off the day, the song ‘Happy Birthday’ is stuck in her mind and it’s not even her birthday or anyone else’s in the family or friend group that could’ve provided that song in her head.  During the afternoon of that day, Y/N suddenly hears a humming in her mind that quickly changes into a full-on made-up song that no one close to her would ever sing.  “Mmh, Cake, cake, I like cake Cake, cake, I like cake.” She can’t help but laugh, though. She’d been studying for many hours without taking a break, it’s starting to mess with her brain a little. Y/N’s teachers have been giving so much work lately, she’s nearly drowning in it and it’s far from done. Sophomore year is possibly one of the hardest, in her opinion, and having the need to maintain a social life really doesn’t help with that. She hasn’t been to a party for weeks. She’s starting to crave human contact and dancing and having fun with friends and not sleeping until the sun rises.  Though that last part sounds very appealing when you’re at a party, it doesn’t when you’re in bed and trying to sleep. She’s woken up by loud music thumping in her ears. It sounds almost as though the neighbors are having a party next door, but when she gets up and walks outside the house, she realizes the house next door is completely dark. There’s no movement whatsoever. She must’ve hallucinated, but then why is she still hearing this loud music?  That’s when it dawned on her that the soulmate stories her mother used to tell are real. As a matter of fact, the songs she’d been hearing all day long were the songs her soulmate was listening to or singing. It must’ve been their 16th birthday, which they are now celebrating at a party. She always thought it’d be more fun and romantic to have a soulmate and hear them sing and think, but it’s actually pretty annoying. And it’s only the first day. This is going to be fun. 

“Morning, sweetie,” Y/N’s mother greets when she stumbles into the kitchen the next morning. She hasn’t slept one bit. Her soulmate has been partying all night and only got home by 6am, which was two hours ago. “Oh, you look rough! Are you feeling okay?” “I haven’t slept all night because my stupid soulmate was out partying all night.” Her eyes widen at this, as does her smile. “They turned 16 yesterday, so I guess that’s why I never heard anything yet on my birthday.” “Oh, yeah! You both need to be 16 before the whole soulmate-thing starts to work,” she informs her daughter and hands a cup of fresh, steaming-hot coffee. “Do you know anything about them yet?” She shakes her head before taking a careful sip from the goddess liquid --as she and her siblings call it. “No, I kinda thought it was my brain hallucinating from studying so much, so I couldn’t really think of a way to converse with them.” Her head snaps up as an idea crosses her mind. “How do you converse with your soulmate, mom?” She shoots her a tender, relieved smile, happy she can finally properly inform Y/N about it instead of those folklore stories. “You just think what you wanna ask them and they hear it,” she replies. “So, if I let my inside voice just yell ‘shut up!’, they’ll hear too?” Her mother chuckles, nodding her head in response. “Good! I ought to try that whenever they’re singing about their cake again.” Her mother laughs at that before leaving her in the kitchen, so she can get ready for work. Her soulmate is seemingly still asleep, which she would’ve been too if it wasn’t for work. Y/N works at a coffee shop on the weekends, just to get some experience and earn a little bit of money for her shopping addiction. Maybe right now would be a perfect moment to avenge her soulmate for keeping her up all night last night. So, while getting ready, she puts on some music on her laptop. With the volume on maximum, she starts belting the One Direction song along at the top of her lungs. “You and me got a whole lotta history!” It takes a while before a loud ‘SHUT UP!’ echoes through her mind. A teasing smile tugs at the corners of her lips as she stops singing. “That’s what you get for keeping me up all night, sweetie” she thinks, hoping it’ll come through. For a moment, she thinks it might not work like that until a boy’s voice floats through her brain. “Who’s this?” She chuckles, pausing the music and taking a seat at her desk. “Y/N Y/L/N. Ever heard of those soulmate folklore stories?” She starts doing her make-up whilst waiting for his response. “Yea, my father used to tell me those. I thought they were fairy tales?” “So did I. Turns out they’re real!” This feels so weird. “You just turned 16, right?” “Yeah, yesterday! How’d you know?!” he asks, and it makes her realize he might not be the brightest tool in the shed. “Because I turned 16 in January and I didn’t hear anything until yesterday…” A silence falls over the conversation. Either it’s not working anymore or he’s digesting all this information. “You heard me singing to my cake, didn’t you?” he finally asks instead, and Y/N can even hear him chuckle. “Yep! I thought I was hallucinating because I was studying so hard,” she lets out a chuckle too. “Happy belated birthday, by the way.” “Oh, thanks! I’m Owen, by the way. Owen Joyner.” She has heard that name before, but she’s got no clue where, though. Making a mental note to Google it later, she grabs the mascara and adds the finishing touches to her makeup. “Nice to meet you, Owen. I gotta get going though. Have to be at work in about…” She glances at the clock on her wall, her eyes widening when she sees the time. “Five minutes. See ya! Or… Hear ya?!” She hears Owen chuckle in her mind. “Yeah, I’ll hear ya,” he says, then a yawn-like sound buzzes through her, giving her the urge to yawn too. “Sorry for waking you up,” she quickly adds before running out of the house. Her mind’s going over a million excuses as to why she would be late to work, but none of them sound quite plausible. Especially not the truth. “Go with ‘the neighbors had a party last night and I overslept’-excuse, Y/N,” she hears Owen’s voice again, “Now stop thinking, I wanna sleep!” She chuckles, shaking her head. “Thanks, Owen. And I wanna sleep too, but I can’t, now can I? Me awake means you awake. Deal with it.” She can even hear a disgruntled groan, meaning he’s probably getting up because her thoughts won’t stop running through his mind. That night, she figures out he's the Owen Joyner, aka Crispo Powers from “100 things to do before High School”, a TV-show she’d watched almost daily in the last two years. She asks him about that too, and he explains the whole auditioning and filming process and how much fun it was for a first acting gig. He asks about her life too, and the two of them bond over thoughts. This whole soulmate-thing is still very whack. But, to be completely honest, she kind of loves it. It’s like having an angel on your shoulder, telling you what the best option for your dilemma is. Though, most times, Owen is more likely the devil. Which is what Y/N needs most times. The most fun thing about this whole Soulmate-connection thing, have to be the dance parties the two of them hold at night, unless she has to get to work the following day and Owen won’t stop singing at the top of his lungs. One night, he was singing Pump It by the Black Eyed Piece at 3am. She’d groaned at first, hoping that’ll subtly tell him to shut up, but it didn’t work at all. He just kept rapping the verses, keeping Y/N awake and annoyed. “Come on, baby, do it” She decides to finally give in, knowing he’s not going to stop until she starts singing along. So, she sits up straight in her bed, and belts the lyrics at the very top of her lungs, not even caring about anyone in the house hearing. “La-da-di-dup-dup die dy On the stereo Let those speakers blow your mind” “Blow my mind, baby” She chuckles at his interruption. “To let it go, let it go Here we go La-da-di-dup-dup die dy” “C'mon, we're there” “On the radio The system is gonna feel so fine” He stops singing then and a silence falls over the both of them. Y/N can’t lie, in the past couple of years as she’d grown closer to him, spending every waking -- and sleeping -- moment together, she’d started developing some feelings for Owen Patrick Joyner too. It’s ridiculous because she’d never seen him in real life. She knows everything about him and she knows what he looks like, but she doesn’t know what his hugs feel like, or what his cologne smells like. “You’re a great singer, Y/N,” he finally breaks the silence, “I’m gonna let you sleep now, kay? Good night, baby girl.” Of all the pet names he’d given her so far, Baby Girl, Princess and Gorgeous were her favorites. All of them with a platonic tendency, though, much to her dismay. “Good night, O-bear,” she whispers back before tucking herself into bed again. Then finally, in 2019, Owen and a couple of people from the cast and crew of Julie and The Phantoms, his latest project Y/N was most excited about, decided to make a trip to New York City, her hometown. To say she’s excited would be the understatement of the year. She’d finally be able to hug him and talk to him properly and show him around her hometown and get to know the rest of the cast she’d heard so much about. But among the excitement also hides a little bit of nerves. After years of talking to him by just thinking, she’d finally see him in real life. What if things get awkward? What if it’s not what she expects? What if he’s only so beautiful in her mind? Y/N is walking around the coffee shop, wiping down tables and jumping up every time a new customer enters, thinking it’s Owen. He knows where she works on the weekends, and promised to find her there the minute he’d gotten settled in his hotelroom. “Ooh, pretty girl over there.” Her stomach churns as she hears his thoughts. He forgets about the whole soulmate-connection thing sometimes and just lets it out unfiltered. She knows he doesn’t like her the same way she likes him, and he’s allowed to look at other girls and think they’re pretty, but that doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt. “All around the world pretty girls,” he sings the famous Britney Song. “Mostly at coffee shops, yeah I’m talking about  you, pretty girl.”  A soft rap on the window next to Y/N makes her snap out of her focus on Owen’s voice. When she looks up, there’s a tall, blonde man waving at her through the glass with the biggest smile on his face. A flutter erupts in her stomach whilst her mouth involuntarily curls up into the widest smile she’d ever managed. She gestures at him to come in and hastily makes her way to the door herself. The second he walks inside, she launches herself into his arms. Wrapping her legs around his waist and her arms around his neck, she holds him tight and inhales the smell of his cologne. He smells of the most divine combination of spearmint and musk. Just as she’d imagined him smelling like. “I can’t believe this,” she hears him think, which makes her chuckle. “You know you can actually talk to me right now, right?” she tells him, pulling away slightly so she can look at his face. There’s a slight stubble growing on his cheeks and chin, and his eyes look even prettier in real life than on a phone screen. “Right, yeah,” he chuckles, Y/N’s new favorite sound in the world. “Old habits die hard.” She smiles down at him whilst the two of them just stare at each other, basking in the fact they’re finally meeting. “She’s even prettier up close.” YN/ blushes at the compliment, and combes her fingers through his hair. “Oh, fuck, you heard that. Sorry!” “It’s cool. You’re pretty up close too.” This makes him chuckle. The whole thing is still bat-shit crazy. Both of them have gotten weird commentary whenever they told friends and family how they communicate with their soulmate. Most people just start texting and calling when they find their soulmate, but they didn’t. This whole new way of conversing was way too much fun, though a little annoying at times. And especially now that they’re in the same place together, it’s even more fun because no one else knows they’re talking to each other. A soft cough behind Owen causes Y/N to snap back into reality. Peeking behind the boy’s head, there are three other guys, staring at the scene with wide smiles playing at their lips. Two of them are about the same age as them, but the other one is older. Older but very, very famous. Y/N herself is a big fan of his work. The legend, Kenny Ortega himself. “You might wanna introduce me to your friends over there,” she tells her best friend. Owen takes a quick peek behind him, realizing he’d forgotten about his friends that had come along with him to meet the infamous Y/N. He puts the girl down on her feet again before turning to the three men. “Guys, this is Y/N Y/L/N. Gorgeous, these are Jeremy, Charlie, and Kenny.” He points to each of them when their respective names are called. Y/N offers them a wave and smile, not sure if she should go straight in for the hug like she’d done with Owen. “It’s nice to finally meet you, Y/N,” says Kenny as he opens his arms and embraces the girl. Said girl is now completely starstruck in a way she’d never been before, and she’d met a few of her favorite actors or artists. None of them made her feel this way. “You too, Kenny,” she manages to bring out when they pull apart, “Big fan of your work!” All she’s hoping right now is that she doesn’t sound too creepy. “You’re all good, Princess. Breathe.” Owen’s voice calms her down just in time for Charlie to engulf her into a hug too, and then Jeremy does the same. “Why don’t you guys take a seat, and I’ll make you some coffee before I’m off for today?” she suggests, and after hums of assent, the girl takes their orders and gets back to work. “There you go,” she mumbles as she places the coffees on the table and then distributes them correctly before sliding into the booth next to Owen. “So, what are your plans for today?” she asks. “Just some touristy bits,” Charlie replies with a shrug, “Any recommendations for us?” Y/N thinks about it for a while, knowing Owen can hear her thoughts. “Why don’t you come along?” Owen’s voice echoes through your brain. “Why don’t I take you guys around to the best spots no tourist will ever find?” she suggests, earning a thankful smile from Owen. “I think I knew a few places I could take you to?” All three other men agree to your suggestion. So, after you all finish your coffees and you’ve given them your employer’s discount, the five of you leave the coffee shop and hit the streets of New York City. “This is where I proposed to Care!” Jeremy exclaims excitedly as you’re sharing a couple stories from your childhood in Central Park. The guys have told a little more about their own lives, too, so Y/N felt comfortable enough to talk so freely and unfiltered about her own childhood, not noticing the way Owen melts at how adorable she looks being so excited about her childhood memories. “Re-enact it, Jer!” Owen exclaims excitedly as he scurries away from Y/N’s side and jumps down the small flight of stairs in one swift hop. Jeremy follows his best buddy and kneels down in front of him as if really proposing. Y/N takes her phone out of her back pocket and snaps a picture of the beautiful scene, giggling as she does, along with Kenny and Charlie. “The cutest couple!” the girl compliments, jamming her phone back into her pocket. “When’s the wedding?” Kenny adds, his laugh thundering. Owen lets out an airy laugh while Jeremy gets up again, the two of them rejoining the rest of the group. Y/N just knows this day will forever be the best day of her life. She just knows it’s going to be her favorite day ever for so many reasons; the laughs, the jokes, the friendship that’s building between all five of you, but mostly Owen. That night, Y/N goes back to the hotel with them too as Owen had asked her to hang out a little while longer and watch some movies with him. He’d asked the others too, but they were ‘too tired’. That’s an excuse Y/N could see from a mile away. They just wanted to give the two of them some quality time, which she appreciated very much. “I had the best day,Bubba,” she mumbles as she snuggles closer to him. She has her head on his chest whilst his arm is draped around her shoulders. It almost feels as though they’ve been doing this for years. “Me too, Baby Girl. Thanks for showing us around.” He presses a kiss to her hair, inhaling the luscious scent of peach, and deciding that’s his new favorite scent from now on. “Sucks we’re leaving tomorrow night,” he mumbles sadly. “Yeah… I know…” The words come out of her mouth in a whisper. “Wonder when we’ll see each other again.” She’d forgotten for a split second about him being able to hear her thoughts until he answers the half-statement with another question. “Will you come visit Norman Oklahoma soon?” She looks up at him, her nose grazing his stubbled chin, causing him to look down. “I really don’t wanna go another three years without seeing you, Gorgeous. I don’t think I can handle that, especially now that I’ve learned you’re a great cuddler.” Y/N chuckles at that before resettling on his chest properly. “I think I can make something work next month?” She starts tracing the patterns of his shirt, sending shivers down Owen’s spine at the sheer touch of her delicate fingers. “I think I can miss a few classes.” The chuckle that escapes past his lips, makes his chest vibrate and zooms into her ears, making her mouth curl up. This is the best feeling in the world; cuddling up with Owen and hearing him laugh. It’s a feeling Y/N wouldn’t trade for anything in the world. She wishes she could just stay like this forever. Or at least until the next day. Y/N has classes to get to, but promises Owen to come and say goodbye to him and the others at JFK airport around 8pm that night. And she does, though dreading it entirely. “You made it,” Owen whispers when he sees her walk up to the group. “Of course, I couldn’t just let you go back to Van City without saying goodbye, could I?” A tender smile plays at his lips as he takes her into a tight hug. “Have a safe flight, yeah? And talk to me on the plane if you’re bored.” She tells him and then turns to the three other men she’d just met yesterday. “Take good care of him and each other,” she tells them before taking each into a hug. Owen then offers her a nervous smile when she makes it back to his side. “Hey, you okay?” she asks, grabbing his hand in hers. “No,” her eyebrows furrow at his unspoken confession. “Yes, I mean yes. I’m fine. I’m okay… I just--” he cuts himself off, not knowing what to tell the girl now. “I’m just gonna miss you, is all.” “Oh…” is all she brings out, wanting something else to come out of his mouth. “I’m gonna miss you too, Big O.” She playfully punches his shoulder, smiling up at him with that smile that’s only ever reserved for Owen. It’s a tender one where her eyes sparkle as much as her smile. Owen then grabs her other hand too, pulling her a little closer as though he wants to say something serious. Y/N isn’t used to a serious Owen. He’d always be the one to pull pranks or make stupid jokes that’d make her laugh until her belly ached. He stutters and stumbles over a couple of words, then sighs frustratedly as he can’t seem to find the right words to tell her what he’s feeling. He can’t even find the right words to think. “Just kiss her, you dork!” Charlie shouts from the sidelines. Y/N turns her head to look at the boy confusedly, but Owen’s hands quickly cup her face and brings her up to press his lips on hers. She’s a little startled at first, unsure about what’s happening. But then she melts into his lips and into him, grabbing a fistful of his shirt. “I’ve wanted to do that for so long!” his thought comes through in her mind, making her smile against his lips.   “Shut up, I’m kissing you.” He chuckles at her words, and pulls away but keeps his forehead pressed to hers. “I’ll see you in a month, Bubba,” Y/N whispers and pecks his lips once more. Though she hates to see him go, she has to let him leave. She has to let him get back to Vancouver and Oklahoma, and then she can see him again in about a month. It’s just how this must go. For now. “I’d rather stay, actually,” he tells her as he pulls away slowly. “Owen…” Y/N whispers, shaking her head, “Don’t make this harder than it already is. They need you in Vancouver…” she nods at Kenny and the guys. “I want you to stay, I do. But they need you.” A single tear rolls down her cheek. Owen reaches up and wipes it away as quickly as it came whilst shaking his head. “I’m gonna stay, Y/N. Just two more days.” He sounds too determined for her to convince him to go. “We don’t actually need him for two more days anyway, so he’s free to stay if he wants to,” Kenny chimes in. Y/N looks at the man talking, a surprised look on her face. The legend himself shoots her a smile. “Stay, Owen. Spend some more time together. You both need it.” “Thanks, Kenny,” Owen takes the guy in for a quick hug, and then turns to his buddies to give each of them one too. “I’ll see you in two days, then.” The couple watches as the three men walk away, their arms wrapped tightly around each other. “You really had to be dramatic, did you?” Y/N jokes once they’re out of earshot, which earns her an eye roll from Owen, though he can’t hide a smile either. “You know me, Baby Girl,” he winks before grabbing his bag. “Yes, I do,” she says, “And I’m glad I do.” “Me too, Gorgeous, me too.”

Taglist: @hannahhistorian92​ @marinettepotterandplagg​ @thequirkybookaholic​ @bookdealer5​ @tenaciousperfectionunknown​ @hemmingsness​ @iainttakingshitfromnobody​ @ifilwtmfc​ @angryknightstatesmantrash​ @kiss-themoongoodbye​ @rudysbay​ @thedarkqueenofavalon​​ @caitsymichelle13​​ @calamitykaty​ @wiselight​

[yami-kada]

Mission 2

Recently I read a fanfic on AO3 called Interlude - Class 1-A by @itslivybear and was inspired a bit to write a fic based on that! Well really I got inspiration for a single line (you'll know it when you see it) and then had to write a whole thing to be able to share that one line, but oh well. This is my first time writing a chatfic or even any BNHA content at all, so I hope it doesn't suck! Thanks to @shadesofflame for being an awesome beta!

(Quick FYI in this AU M*neta and Bakugou are replaced with Shinsou and Monoma, sorry for any confusion. Also a name guide can be found at the bottom.)

RockSolid: Um, so.

RockSolid: Remember the missions during the Sports Festival?

PurpleGrape: Oh hell yeah.

PurpleGrape: Still cherish the look on that bastard's face.

Spoderman: jehxgjc Kiri I got it on video!!!

JazzHands: You've had video of the capture of the bounty this whole time and never showed us???

LSD: I thought we were friends Sero!

Spoderman: omg no not that I totally would have shared earlier if i did

Spoderman: im talking about That.

RockSolid: no Sero don't tell them!

RockSolid: it's embarrassing!

PikaCHU: Tell us, tell us!

NYOOM: Kaminari-kun! If Kirishima-kun wishes to keep his privacy, then it is our duty as his classmates to respect that!

Spoderman: ok but consider: he already gave them a major hint and they are about to POUNCE

BreadIsPain: As a witness as well, I must say that Kirishima was si attirant que j'ai failli m'évanouir~*

RockSolid: thanks, I think?

MOMo: To paraphrase Aoyama, he is essentially saying you were very manly, Kirishima!

RockSolid: aw thanks bro!! Don't believe you but thanks!

Spoderman: you take that lack of confidence back I have evidence right here that says you are super fucking manly!

LSD: ok please now we have to know so that we can show Kiri how great he is!!!

MOMo: I must admit that the commentary seen thus far has me rather curious as well.

RockSolid: You guys…

RockSolid: alright then, I'll tell you!

Spoderman: sweet ill pull it up!

RockSolid: bro don't you dare! my story, I get to tell it!

Spoderman: oh yeah of course bro!!

Spoderman: but if after you wanna show it then i am READY.

JazzHands: This is very sweet and all but I am very thirsty for this TEA.

RockSolid: on it!

Kirby: Kiri you've been typing for so long that I'm getting Izuku vibes here.

GreenGrape: Hey!

RockSolid: sorry! this is harder than I thought!

Spoderman: want me to start it off?

RockSolid: you know what, sure.

Spoderman: aight so,

Spoderman: Council, what qualifies as capturing the bounty?

GreenGrape: Guys no the bounty is over please no more bounty-hunting Kacchan.

MOMo: Your objection is noted and overruled, Izuku.

MOMo: For your question, Sero, I do not believe we ever set specific limitations on what qualified, but I was under the impression that it was limited to the Sports Festival. Why do you ask?

Spoderman: just double checking

Spoderman: because my bro here just totally shot both missions out of the park!!!

LSD: gaSP!!!

JazzHands: bOTH?!

RockSolid: no not both!! we have no confirmation for either, technically!

Kirby: Technically? What do you mean by that?

RockSolid: ahhhh ok so Sero and I were eating lunch in the courtyard because it was nice out, right?!

RockSolid: and we were chillin, being bros, birds were singing, all was good.

RockSolid: and then we heard a small explosion before the bounty walked in at the other end of the courtyard and started kicking at the wall.

PikaCHU: omg so angy.

RockSolid: and like fine, we can tune him out, just try to act like he's not there, you know?

RockSolid: But then he started yelling at random people in the courtyard, just acting pissed as hell.

PikaCHU: oMG so ANGY.

RockSolid: and that's just not manly at all, you know? going off on people like that just because you're in a bad mood.

GreenGrape: Yeah… that's Kacchan for you.

RockSolid: so he's making his way around the courtyard now, like everyone needs their daily dose of asshole for him to be happy, and the closer he got the more annoyed I got.

Spoderman: here it comes!

RockSolid: and eventually I get up, because I have had just about enough, and walk right up to him.

RockSolid: he doesn't see me coming, because he was too busy yelling at some girl, and I get right up behind him.

RockSolid: and then I just called out to get his attention, and spun him to face me while making sure I end up between him and the girl.

RockSolid: and well I told him off a little bit and got him to back off then left in a hurry.

RockSolid: and that's it!

Spoderman: oh no you don't

BreadIsPain: Oui! Monsieur Kirishima, you must tell the climax with just as much zest as the build-up!

Spoderman: what he said! no skipping out on the best part!

RockSolid: but!!!

Jacked: No buts, mister. We're all way too invested now for you to back down.

RockSolid: :(

RockSolid: fine! you win!

RockSolid: so uh when I got his attention, I also got my hand onto his shoulder, and used his surprise to knock his feet a bit off balance and pulled him back, but then I ended up with him in my arms and could tell he was about to start yelling so I just…

RockSolid: you know…

RockSolid: flirted?

LSD: oh my GoD this is great!!!

PikaCHU: Hell yeah Kiri! Go get yourself a manz!

RockSolid: I'm not getting a man! He's probably going to kill me the next time he sees me!

Spoderman: i dunno, it took him a good long while to reboot after what you said there

Spoderman: you might have a shot

PurpleGrape: Well if you're not going to get a man out of this, mind telling us what you said so I can bait him next time he tries to be an ass?

RockSolid: uhhh…

RockSolid: I'm nervous.

BreadIsPain: If you will allow me, I shall finish your tale off dazzlingly!

RockSolid: Thanks Aoyama.

BreadIsPain: Bien entendu!

BreadIsPain: While holding him in his arms tightly in a dip, faces inches apart, Monsieur Kirishima leaned impossibly closer to emphasize his point.

RockSolid: oh god I regret everything.

LSD: Hush, it's getting good!

BreadIsPain: With a growl to his voice and his eyes burning above a smirk, he said "You know, you're damn cute when you're angry, but you'd be downright sexy if you shut the fuck up." Then he straightened up to fling the lost soul to the side, and saunter off like the devil was guarding his back, leaving the bounty terribly confused in his wake.

PurpleGrape: Whoa.

PikaCHU: Holy shit?!

RockSolid: what is that description?!?!?!

JazzHands: Kiri that was PERFECT oh my god?!

LSD: It's ART is what it is!

Spoderman: don't forget how red the guy was! Kiri was cool as a cucumber but the other guy couldn't stop blushing after seeing his face!!!

MOMo pinned a message

RockSolid: Yaomomo!!!

MOMo: My apologies, Kirishima, but I felt it only right to ensure easy access to your most manly moment.

LSD: Yeah Kiri! Then one day we can all look back on this and celebrate how everything started!!

RockSolid: How what started???

LSD: E v e r y t h i n g

RockSolid: @Spoderman bro hide me I’m scared.

Spoderman: hey guys, wanna see a GREAT video?

Spoderman: the stars are our main man, Kiri, and the bounty!

PikaCHU: hell yeah!!!

Jacked: Lay it on me.

PurpleGrape: Sure.

JazzHands: Do you really have to ask????

RockSolid: but I already told you what happened!

RockSolid: why do you want to see me being so embarrassing?

PikaCHU: bro we all appreciate you so much of course we want to see you being manly!

LSD: Just from what you all said there is no way you don’t look great in that vid, Kiri!

PikaCHU: gotta give support where support is due!!

PurpleGrape: They’ll all bully Sero into showing them one way or another anyways, might as well give in now.

RockSolid: but...

BreadIsPain: Nous devons vous montrer à quel point vous brillez et dissiper ces pensées douteuses!**

MOMo: I could not have said it better myself, Aoyama!

RockSolid: I don’t even know what he said though?!?!?!?!?!?!

Spoderman: Kiri.

Spoderman: Bro.

Jacked: Well shoot he’s using proper grammar and everything.

Spoderman: Rude.

Spoderman: Anyways Bro.

RockSolid: yeah?

Spoderman: You are epic. This video shows you being epic. And putting an asshole in their place.

Spoderman: You have nothing to be ashamed of, and every reason to be proud. So please let me show the video so that everyone can appreciate you like you deserve bro.

RockSolid: bro…

Spoderman: Bro.

RockSolid: bro -

Spoderman: Bro?

RockSolid: bro!

Spoderman: aight everyone down to the common room its up on the big screen

Spoderman: i have popcorn too

Jacked: Not even gonna question that.

LSD: Finally!!!

JazzHands: Yuss!!!

BreadIsPain: Je vais regarder avec enthousiasme!***

MOMo: As will all of us I’m sure, Aoyama!

RockSolid: Thanks guys!

RockSolid: Now get down here and watch me maybe get a man!

Translations:

*so attractive that I almost swooned.

**We must show you how much you shine, and dispel those self-doubting thoughts!

***I shall excitedly watch!

Guide to names:

GreenGrape - Izuku

PurpleGrape - Hitoshi

CopyCat - Monoma Neito

MOMo - Yaoyorozu Momo

datBoi - Asui Tsuyu

JazzHands - Hagakure Toru

NYOOM - Iida Tenya

SnowWhite - Kouda Kouji

LifeIsPain - Tokoyami Fumikage

BreadIsPain - Aoyama Yuga

Kirby - Uraraka Ochaco

LSD - Ashido Mina

PikaCHU - Kaminari Denki

RockSolid - Kirishima Eijiro

RipHarambe - Ojiro Mashirao

IcyHot - Todoroki Shoto

MuffinMan - Sato Rikido

Octodad - Shouji Mezou

Jacked - Jirou Kyoka

Spoderman - Sero Hanta

[definitelynotkatesblog]

Illustrated Man l Spencer Reid Fic

Pairing: Reader x Spencer Reid 

Category: Fluff

Summary: Spencer comes home from a particularly difficult case, and begins to doubt himself. Reader helps him unwind and helps paint a picture of all the great things about him.

A/N: Helloooooooo friends! Yet again, I thought of a single line of dialogue I really wanted to make work so I spit a thousand words around it to bring it to life lol. Anyways! This fic is free of reader pronouns and gender identifiers, so anyone can read this and make the “I”‘a their own ☺️

P.S. I’ll see what I can do about not disappearing again for weeks on end, but I make no promises

Content warning: None! Except Spencer has his shirt off? But that’s it!

WC: 2.4k

The sound of the door clicking shut and Spencer vacating his lungs of all air drew my head up from my book.

“You’re home!” I cheered, closing my book and getting up to greet him.

He lifted his satchel over his head and gave me a small smile that didn’t touch his eyes. I nodded, mostly to myself, knowing that this meant the case was harder than most. On nights like this, Spencer was hard to reach. I padded my way across the living room and wrapped my arms around him like he might slip away if I didn’t hold him tight enough.

I pulled his head down to rest on my shoulder as his arms snaked around me, wrapping himself in me, too. We stayed like that a while until he stood up and cupped my cheeks in his hands, bringing my face up for a kiss.

‘Hi,” he said softly.

I smiled into his palms. “Hi.”

I took his hands in mine and kissed his knuckles, then led him to our bedroom to get him out of his work clothes. I helped him out of his cardigan and dress shirt, then left him to do the rest while I got him some water. When I returned, he was laying face down across the bed in a pair of sweatpants. His head rested on his crossed arms, and turned to face me when I laid next to him on the bed. I propped my head up one arm and gave him a half smile.

“Do you want to tell me about it?”

He thought for a moment before giving me a recap of the case, leaving out the gruesome details. I listened and ran my fingers across his back, alternating scratches with swirling patterns on the soft skin. Sometimes my hand would find itself at the nape of his neck and work through the hair there.

As he spoke, his voice became more resolved and tired. He worked so hard, but the things he saw, the things this job had put him through weighed on him. He was strong and incredibly smart, but just because he carried it well didn’t mean the load wasn’t heavy.

I took a deep breath and spoke gently, not wanting to offend him. “Maybe you can take some time off?” I suggested.

He shook his head, his chin brushing his hands folded under his chin.

“The team needs me. These victims and their families need me.”

I bit my tongue. I needed him, too. But this was hardly the time to bring that up.

“But this job,” he paused for a moment before continuing, “It takes pieces of me I can’t get back, and I’m scared all I am is the parts I’ve managed to pick up off of the ground.”

I closed my eyes and wished away the tears forming in my eyes. I heard him take a deep breath but he didn’t say anything else.

“I have an idea. Stay there.”

His head lifted and his eyes followed me around the room to our closet where my painting supplied resided.

“I’m going to paint you.”

“Paint me?”

I turned around, a towel in one hand and my box of paints and brushes in the other. “Yes. You’re gonna lay here and talk to me about anything in the world and I’m going to paint you.”

His eyes scanned the contents of my hands. I could see the gears in his head turning for a moment before he shrugged and gave a small nod.

“Okay.”

I ran a hand through his hair and bent down to kiss his forehead before climbing on the bed and straddling his thighs, setting my supplies on the towel beside us. “Talk to me.”

His head cocked to the side as he contemplated his answer.

“Not about work,” I clarified.

I felt his laugh beneath me. “Okay then, what would you like me to tell you about?”

I tapped my bottom lip with the handle of my paintbrush. “Hmmm. Read any good books lately?”

I could feel his smile without seeing it. If there was one thing Spencer loved more than saving lives and doing crossword puzzles in pen, it was reading. “I revisited some Ray Bradbury on the plane home,” he said.

“Mmm, tell me about it.”

He took a deep breath beneath me and began. “I re-read The Illustrated Man. It’s a compilation of short stories told through interactions between an omniscient narrator and a man covered in tattoos that each tell tales of events that have not happened yet. The tattoos are magic, and they come alive to tell the stories they depict. The stories are mostly science fiction, but have elements of pretty universal truths that Bradbury is famous for addressing.

For example, in one story explores the deep seeded longing of one man to take a trip to outer space. Something that, in this story, is attaintanable. He works his whole life to be able to fulfill this yearning, but he is torn between going or staying with his family, whom he also loves. It begs the question of the existence of duality of desire and duty.

Then, in another, there’s this incessant rain. And this group of men are searching for cover and sunshine, but it’s wearing them down and breaking them. These small raindrops, just water, becomes torture. It’s interesting how something as small as raindrops can break both canyons and men.”

I listen as he tells me about each story behind the man’s tattoos, about how they’re all different but important and lend themselves to portraying the then-futuristic perception world around us. Sometimes, his voice gets sad at the implications of the stories, but other times he seems to appreciate the sentiment behind them.

I dip my brushes and admire the way they drag across his soft skin, leaving a wake of vibrant pigments behind. I hmm and ahhh at appropriate times, partially paying attention but mostly glad that he’s able to enjoy himself and is able to think of something other than the darkness in his world.

We stayed in our respective positions for the better part of an hour- him laying on the bed with his head on his hands while I straddled the back of his thighs, stroking brushes across the lines of his back.

When I’m finally finished, I roll my neck and place my hands on the small of his back, taking a moment to take it in. The idea of creating a universe compelled me; there was so much beauty and so much unknown in the expanse of space. The concept seemed fitting for what I hoped to help him understand. I’d mixed a navy blue paint for a base, and created swirls of light with yellows, creams, and whites to create a brighter contrast and background for the more intricate featured parts. One section had books, a coffee cup, a molecular model I’d hoped was an actual chemical, and a small red apple.

The next was a canyon, modeled after one of the scenic drives we’d taken the last time we visited Vegas to see his mom at her new care facility. We parked at a lookout spot and watched the sun set- gorgeous oranges, yellows, and pinks painted the sky over the rock. It was at that moment I’d never been more jealous of Spencer’s perfect memory.

Another section, closer to the bottom curve of his spine was a silhouette outline of the Christmas card the team had sent out two years ago. Spencer had a copy hanging by a CalTech magnet on the fridge, another on his desk, and a folded and fading copy in his wallet.

He loved that photo – the way it captured their joyous spirits and ability to be carefree despite the things that initially brought them together.

I took a deep breath and playfully patted his bottom. “All done!”

He threw a boyish grin over his shoulder and handed me his phone.

I snapped a few pictures, holding the phone up by my chin to capture the expanse of his back, then a bit closer to the individual parts. I passed the phone back over his shoulder and brought my clasped hands up under my chin. “Okay, so, if you don’t like it, that’s okay you can wash-” I rushed, but stopped short when I felt his breath hitch from underneath me.

He was silent for a moment, staring at the phone in his hand.

I took a deep breath. “Spencer, you contain multitudes. You’re a loving son, an amazing friend, a brilliant profiler, a great cat-sitter, an instant mashed potato extraordinaire, and my favorite boyfriend.”

I dusted an invisible speck of dust off his shoulder before continuing, giving my words a moment to sink in. I needed him to hear me, and to know these truths. “You are so much more than the things you don’t love about yourself. You are more than this job, you are more than the obstacles you’ve had to overcome. They’re a part of who you are, yeah, but they’re not all that you are.”

I shook my head, though he couldn’t see it. The knowledge of the man beneath me not knowing he was deeply loved seemed so wrong.

“You are so incredibly loved, Spencer. The people in your life are so lucky to know you and to be loved by you. Each and every one of your friends is changed and is better for having known you, believe me.”

He was silent for a short while, pinching and zooming in on the screen to see the different parts of him illustrated in his skin. He cleared his throat a few times. Part of me was grateful I couldn’t see his face, and he couldn’t seem mine. Though, I didn’t need to see the way his mind was working to know he was trying to find a flaw in my logic.

The amount of love I had for the man beneath me threatened to spill over in the form of tears.

“Favorite boyfriend?” he asked finally, feigning insult.

I laughed. “So far, yeah.”

I knew that wasn’t the only thing he’d heard, but probably was the only thing he could bring himself to comment on.

I scrambled off of my perch unceremoniously, stretching for a moment before straightening up and offering my hand. He laid with his chin resting on his fists stacked, staring at me for a moment.

“What?” I asked with a small huff.

“Being loved by you is one of the greatest joys of my life.”

I felt my mouth pop open, a bit taken aback at such a bold admission. A sweet smile touched his lips while he watched me try to scoop my heart back into my chest. He climbed off the bed gingerly, careful not to rock the tray of paint and brushes with his long limbs.

His large hand wrapping around mine grounded me from cloud nine and I could feel the smile forming on my lips. I turned and started heading towards the bathroom.

“Come,” I said, pulling him along behind me.

When we arrived in the small room, I halted and spun him so the back of his thighs were resting against the porcelain countertop and I was flush against his front. My hands came to rest on the edges of the countertop, caging him between my arms. I looked up at him, squinting slightly.

“I’d like to take a picture, is that okay?”

I knew Spencer was wary of having his picture taken; most of our pictures together were candids I’d puppy eyed my way into him letting me keep.

He narrowed his eyes back at me. My lower lip made an appearance, coupled with a knitted brow and cautious look from under my lashes.

He laughed and shook his head. “Okay.”

Before he could change his mind, I grabbed my phone and rushed back to my place in front of him, pressing my front to his.

I snaked my arms around his torso so our chests were together while his back bearing my painting faced the mirror. My arms poking out from between his arm and torso space made him look like an alien, but placing one hand on his hip while the other held my phone gave the pose a more artistic feel.

I snapped a few pictures, messing with the lighting and exposure, playing with shadows from the vanity and positioning him every which way. Every once in a while, I’d pull my arms from him and show him a few shots I liked but they never felt like the one.

He smiled and nodded encouragingly, taking my direction to tilt this way or arch his shoulder that way. I started to feel for him, we’d been there for 15 minutes at least.

I pouted and let my head fall back dramatically. “I give up,” I whined.

He gave a small smile and leaned down to kiss me. I met his lips with a smile of my own before resting my head against his chest.

“Try one more time,” he encouraged.

I nodded and wrapped my arms around him again. I poked my head out so it was just visible behind his arm, resting my chin on his bicep as I focused my phone camera to capture the two of us and my work on his back.

“Smile,” I said before snapping a few shots. Spencer’s body shook with his laugh as he leaned down to press a kiss to the top of my head. My thumb grazed the shutter button, capturing the moment.

It was perfect.

His back was illuminated perfectly by the soft glow of the vanity mirror lighting, the muscles in his back tensed when he bent down, creating dips and curves that separated the focus points brilliantly. My hand wasn’t posed, just gently resting on his hip, a soft touch that lent itself perfectly to the lightness of the moment.

I pulled myself from around him and held the phone between us. His hand found the small of my back and he pulled me closer to him, sealing our lips together. Our lips were unhurried, enjoying the softness of the moment and the love between us. His free hand cupped my cheek as we broke apart. His eyes bore into mine, both pairs slightly glossy.

“Thank you,” he said softly.

I nodded and buried my head into his chest so he wouldn’t see the fresh tears springing in my eyes. His arms wrapped around me as he pressed more kisses to the top of my head.

——

Let’s talk about it!

[badassbabeparker]

New beginnings [P.P]

A/N: I guess I’m unofficially back or in other words I got too excited that I finished a fic and wanted to post it. I was inspired by the picture of Tom in a graduation cap and I really wanted to write Peter’s graduation which hopefully we’ll see in the movies. Anyway enjoy and now I’m gonna go hibernate until I can actually write the next chapter of tale as old as time. 

I’m also looking for a new beta reader for my fics so please let me know if you’d be interested! 

Pairing: Peter Parker x reader

WC: 2.9k

Warnings: some angst and tears but mostly fluffy fluff

Peter took a deep breath as he looked at himself in the mirror. It almost felt like a dream version of himself staring back as he looked at the black robes and graduation cap that sat on his head. He’d dreamt and wondered about this day for so long and now it was finally here. His high school graduation. 

His eyes flickered over to the photo frames that stood on his dresser, two men stared back at him and Peter imagined their proud faces. He wished with all his heart that they could see him walk across that stage or give his speech. 

“They’re still here with you and they’d be so proud Peter.” 

Peter turned as he heard his aunt’s voice from the doorway. He sniffled and nodded, not realising that tears had started to form in his eyes. May wrapped her arms around him and hugged him close. He melted into the familiar comfort and hugged his Aunt just as tightly back. 

“Thanks May.” 

She pulled back and adjusted his cap, smiling proudly at her nephew. He’d been through so much even death and yet here he was, valedictorian of his class and ready to graduate. 

“I’m proud of you too.” 

Peter could sense May began to cry and he quickly shook his head with a laugh. “If you cry, I’m gonna cry and then neither of us will get to the ceremony on time.” 

She gave a watery laugh and patted his cheek, taking a deep breath. “You’re right. I’m gonna go get the car ready.” 

“Thanks May!” He called after her as she left his room, closing the door behind her and leaving Peter once again to his thoughts. He rehearsed his speech again and then again, nerves growing in the pit of his tummy. 

Just as he was leaving his phone buzzed. He worried that it would be an alert of some kind but Peter was pleased to see your name staring back at him with the words “Good luck!” and a dozen heart emojis underneath. He smiled wide as he headed to the car and met May, suddenly feelings less nauseous than before. 

May tried to speak to Peter on the drive but he could only focus on one of two things: you and his speech. He imagined what you would be wearing and the smile that could instantly make him feel better as it lit up a room. May noticed a pink tint forming on Peter’s cheeks and smiled to herself as she saw you waiting for him outside the school.

“Ready?” She looked over at her nephew and smiled, sighing softly. May couldn’t believe how much Peter had grown and how far he’d come in such a short time. He wasn’t the scared kid she knew anymore, he was braver and stronger and he’d faced everything that life had thrown at him. He deserved this moment of happiness. 

Peter nodded and took a deep breath, his hands tightly clutching the cards on which his speech was written. 

“You got this.” May encouraged with a smile. “And it looks like it’s not just me cheering you on.” She nodded to where you were standing, waiting patiently for Peter. He looked over and the smile that broke out on his face was wide enough to squash all his fears. 

You were wearing a pretty mid-length dress under your gown with a pair of sneakers and your hair perfectly styled underneath your cap. You looked beautiful. He told you so as he walked up to you, both of your eyes lighting up with happiness as Peter hugged you, practically picking you up off the ground. 

Peter always made you blush with his compliments and he’d love it when your cheeks went red because of him. He thought it was the cutest thing. Even on your worst days, Peter would always tell you why he loved you and why you were the best thing that ever happened to him. 

You and Peter had been dating for a little over a year now and there wasn’t a moment you would change. Even through the hardships and the fights, every moment with Peter was worth it. The biggest challenge had been college acceptance letters. 

Peter had got accepted into Empire State University and you had chosen to go to Columbia. Luckily it was only a 25 minute drive but even you both knew how crazy college would probably get. You’d heard about relationships, not even just the long distance ones failing because of the workload of college plus with Peter’s spidey duties there was added stress but you had both made a promise to try your hardest to make it work. You couldn’t lose each other, not after everything you’ve been through. 

He was always amazed by how perfectly your hand fit into his as if it were made to be held by him. You noticed as you walked closer to where the ceremony was taking place that Peter’s grip became tighter and his palms became sweatier. 

“Hey, it’s gonna be okay.” 

Peter looked at you and took a deep breath, nodding. He smiled as you cupped his cheek, leaning into your touch as it comforted him. 

“Thank you princess.” 

He leaned in and captured your lips in a sweet kiss, letting himself get distracted by the taste of your lips and the way they moved against his own. As he held you close he felt his nerves fade away and he felt he could take on anything. You were his anchor as his whole body felt on edge. 

Peter had never been one for public speaking. Sure he would give speeches as Spidey when he needed to and even though he was still awkward and nervous, he was hidden behind a mask and no one would be able to make fun of him the next day. 

As if you had read his mind, you placed your hand on his arm and kissed his cheek. “Pete, it’s the last time you’re gonna see most of these people so who cares what they think. Just keep your eyes on me, you got this.” 

Your words brought comfort to Peter as he held onto the cards for his speech. He could feel the kiss on his cheek lingering and it made him feel stronger to know he had you to support him. You took his hand in yours once again and smiled before leading the way to your seats, right next to MJ and Ned who both gave Peter a thumbs up.

He waved at May a few rows behind them and smiled, remembering to focus on his breathing as the time drew nearer. He tried not to focus on how many people there were or the different sounds that made him on edge. You knew that when Peter was nervous his senses started to make him feel on edge so you squeezed his hand and leaned into his side. 

Peter noticed your small gesture and focused instead on you; the smell of your perfume, the hum of your heartbeat and the way the sun was catching your face in a serene way. He calmed down almost instantly but it didn’t last long as soon after his name was called by Mr Harrington. 

“I’d like to welcome your class valedictorian, Mr Peter Parker.” 

The crowd of people applauded and it took Peter a moment to process as you pushed him lightly onto his feet. With one last squeeze of your hand, he pulled away and gave you a nervous smile as he walked up the small stairs to the stage. 

Peter stood behind the podium and placed his cards down, his eyes fixated on them for a moment before he looked up at the audience. He took a deep breath, trying to stop the shake of his hands as he gripped onto the podium. 

“Woo Penis Parker!” 

It didn’t take two guesses to know who was shouting in the crowd but Flash was quickly shut down by MJ who kicked him in the shin. Peter smiled at that before his eyes found yours and he felt the anxiety in his mind quieten just enough for him to start speaking. 

As he spoke and delivered his speech about gratitude and learning, his eyes rarely left yours. He rambled a bit off text as he thought of funny anecdotes to tell about his time at Midtown and he noticed the proud smile on your lips as well as the tears that had started to gather in your eyes. 

“My time at Midtown has been interesting for sure. I’ve done things in the past 4 years that I would never have dreamed of and at one point I wasn’t even sure if I’d make it here.” 

You sniffled, remembering when Peter had gone to space and left you and May worried and how the blip had almost threatened to tear you apart. You remembered the night that you first saw Peter after the battle, his face was bruised and the marks of cuts still lined his face but he was more broken beyond that. The emotional scars he’d suffered were far worse than any physical ones. 

He used to lay in your arms and cry most nights and whenever he slept he’d wake with terrible nightmares. Sometimes he’d space out or have flashbacks that left him shaking but you held him through it all. 

“I wouldn’t be here without my friends,” Peter gave a subtle nod to MJ and Ned who smiled back at him. “My family,” He looked over at May who was wiping her eyes with a tissue and Happy who was smiling back at him. “And my love.” His eyes finally met yours once again as he smiled wide. You felt a tear slip down your cheek but you didn’t even care as you smiled back. 

“I am proud to be standing here as your valedictorian and you should all be proud of yourselves too. Part of the journey is the end and tomorrow will mark the start of the new ones we take wherever they lead.” 

Peter smiled as he finished his speech, being met with loud applause from the crowd. You made sure to be extra loud and even gave a whistle which made Peter laugh. His cheeks were red but his smile was brighter than the sun as he walked off of the stage and came back to his seat. You wrapped your arms around him tightly and kissed his blushing cheek. 

“I’m so proud of you baby.” You whispered as you both sat back down, Peter’s smile widening at your words as he took your hand and squeezed. 

The rest of the ceremony went by slowly as you both waited for your names to be called. You watched MJ sigh as she went to grab her diploma but you could tell she was excited and that there was the hint of a smile playing on her lips as you, Peter and Ned all cheered for her. 

Ned almost tripped up the stairs as he got his but quickly laughed it off and happily accepted his diploma. His family cheered just as loud as his friends and Ned walked off the stage with a wide smile, being careful not to trip again. 

When it was your turn, you could feel the pace of your heart pick up, every nerve in your body was tingling. Peter kissed your cheek before you got up and made you blush as you went to accept your diploma. You swung the tassel of your cap to the other side and did a little bow which made Peter and your supporters in the crowd cheer even louder. You didn’t know if you wanted to laugh or cry more as you walked off stage. 

Peter almost looked startled when they finally read his name. He got up quickly and walked up onto the stage, feeling more confident than he had before his speech. He smiled at the teachers and members of staff as he passed them before shaking hands as he got his diploma. He smiled out at the crowd focusing on you and May as you both cheered him on. 

Peter wished he could freeze the moment, the two most important people in his life smiling proudly at him and he knew that if Tony and Ben could be here they would be too. And for the first time in a long time, Peter was proud of himself as he stood on that stage. 

Soon enough all the names had been read and the ceremony was coming to a close. There were so many mixed emotions as the principal said the last words of his speech about moving on and wishing luck to all the graduates. It felt strange, like a dream. This chapter of your lives was really ending. 

Peter watched all the graduation caps being thrown up into the air, it almost felt like slow motion as they fell to the ground signifying the end of his high school years. He was grateful and sad and happy all at once. Yeah there had been bad times but the good times far outweighed them. 

He smiled as stole a kiss from you as you parted to go be with your own families. Peter headed towards May and Happy, accepting hugs from both of them. 

“You did so good, honey!” May ruffled his curls, making Peter roll his eyes fondly. “Happy cried too.” 

Happy gave May a look before looking back at Peter with a laugh. “Your speech was really good Peter.” 

“Thanks, both of you.” Peter smiled at them, he owed a lot to both of them especially May who had raised him. She hugged him again tightly and kissed his head before noticing you walk up to the three of them. 

“Congrats Y/n!” May pulled you into the hug with Peter, making both of you laugh. Peter was the first to pull back, his cheeks almost bright red as he gave his aunt a knowing look before asking if he could go with you. May nodded but not before kissing his cheek. 

You swung your hand with Peter’s as you walked away with a giggle. Peter lifted your hand to his lips and kissed it, making you blush. You smiled and giggled with Peter as you walked away from everyone else, soon stopping at a nearby tree which you instantly recognised. 

When Peter had first asked you to be his girlfriend, you were sitting under this tree reading as you sat between his legs on a warm summer day. You remembered the small shake in his voice as he asked you and how his smile had widened as you said yes. It was as easy as answering your own name.

Peter showed you a little tool knife which had his uncle's initials engraved and smiled. “I thought we could officially make this our spot.” You smiled wide and nodded, squeezing his hand before he started to carve both of your names with your help. 

You both smiled proudly at your work, Peter tracing his fingers over the carving of your names with forever written underneath. “It’s perfect.” He turned to face you and cupped your cheek, brushing his thumb over your cheek, “just like you.” 

You blushed and leaned into his touch, smiling softly at your boyfriend. Both of you felt so lucky to have each other especially after the blip. You never wanted to take each other for granted and you made sure you never did. 

Peter’s hand slipped into his pocket and pulled out a small box, looking like it contained a ring. You looked at him with wide eyes in shock. 

“P-Peter, I- are you-?” 

Peter furrowed his brow before realising what you were saying, his eyes going as wide as yours. He quickly shook his head and blushed with a laugh. “N-no. Maybe one day but no I’m not proposing.” 

You smiled at the mention of the future you hoped with Peter and let out a small sigh of relief. After all, you had only just graduated high school. That was a big enough life milestone for today. 

“This is a promise ring.” Peter spoke as he opened the box, showing you a beautiful silver ring that was engraved, For me, there is only you. “I love you Y/n, i don’t know what i’d do without you and I don’t want to be without you. These past few years have been crazy for sure but you’ve been my anchor through it all. This ring is to remind you that even though we might be in different places and we might not be able to spend as much time together as we want, I will always be yours. It’s only you, always has been, always will be.” 

You sniffled and wiped away a tear that escaped from your watery eyes. “Pete I-” You shook your head, feeling speechless as you held out your hand and Peter slipped the ring onto your finger. You didn’t know what to say so you said the only words that made sense in that moment. “I love you.” 

“I love you too princess, so much.” Peter caught your tears before pulling you in for a kiss, locking his lips effortlessly with yours. 

Peter knew that he’d lost a lot in such a short time and the pain of those losses might not ever go away but he had you and May, his friends and a new journey ahead of him that he was ready to take. Saying goodbye to a chapter of his life was hard but he had to focus on what laid ahead. After all, as a wise man once said; part of the journey is the end.

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[lampmeeting]

Charles/Pickles, 63

6 months late! that's okay, right? hahaha (yes, y'all, i'm still planning to do all the smut prompts i still have, it's just gonna take a while lmao)

prompt #63 - "open your mouth"

chickles in a preklok flavor, mm! :3c (18+ only)

“Open yer mouth,” Pickles said. His voice was a low, secretive purr.

Charles obeyed, pushing his tongue forward eagerly, and on instinct he let his eyelids sink shut.

“Good boy,” Pickles cooed. “Here it coooomes...”

Oh, he wanted it so badly he could almost taste it...

Pickles fed him the spoonful of warm cobbler. Charles closed his lips around it to capture every sweet morsel as the spoon slid out again. He chewed slowly, savoring the soft, juicy peach and the sweet, crumbly crust, and after he swallowed he opened his eyes to see Pickles’ blushing face regarding him curiously.

“So...whatcha think?”

“It’s delicious,” Charles sighed.

The confidence returned to Pickles’ expression and he grinned a triumphant, crooked grin. “Fuck yeah it is!”

“You’ve really outdone yourself with this one,” Charles said, eyeing the rest of the cobbler in the Pyrex dish. “Is there any way I can, ah...”

But Pickles put the lid over it. “Yer gonna spoil yer dinner, dood. Nat’an’s workin’ hard on those ribs.”

“Ah, hm...fair enough, I suppose. I’ll wait.”

Charles wasn’t sure whose idea it had been to have this little get-together. He wasn’t even sure what they were celebrating, if anything. But Nathan had set up his charcoal grill out by the parking lot, Skwisgaar had gone out to purchase nice liquor, and William and Toki were likely still at William’s grandmother’s house raiding her fridge and pantry for acceptable side dishes. This left Pickles and Charles on dessert duty, though truth be told Charles’ assistance had been limited to slicing peaches and opening beers for the baker. Mostly he watched Pickles work his magic in between stealing a covert kiss or two.

Pickles stepped closer to him, effectively pinning him into the corner where the two counters met. “Maybe I can give ya a taste of somethin’ else in the meantime?”

Charles rested his hands at Pickles’ waist, thumbing at the flour-covered apron tied snug around his middle. “Something sweet?” he asked, trying to sound coy but probably just sounding silly, and was rewarded with a slow, lingering kiss. Pickles tasted of Natty Light, as usual, but with an underlying syrupy peach from all the slices he’d snuck when he thought Charles wasn’t looking.

They pressed back against the corner. The edges of the counters hit Charles right at his braided belt, and he shifted his hips forward to grind into Pickles. Accidental, but not unpleasant.

“Ohh, okay,” Pickles said, giggling a little, “it’s like that, huh?”

“I was just—” A firm hand cupped his groin and he nearly jumped out of his Sperrys. “Ah—” He suddenly remembered where they were and who could walk in at any moment. From the front door, anyone would have an unobstructed view into the kitchen, and he was certainly not excited about the thought of any member of Dethklok walking in and seeing the two of them like this.

Pickles kissed along his jaw. “Chill out, Charlie.”

“But Nathan’s just outside,” Charles tried to say, but his protests melted into a moan as Pickles’ grip tensed around his growing erection.

“And he’s gonna stay outside,” Pickles said. “He ain’t takin’ his eyes off those ribs, so don’t worry.”

Charles, of course, continued to worry, though his thoughts strayed and sputtered as Pickles stroked him through his Dockers and licked at his throat. He rocked at the same pace, seeking out the friction of that practiced hand. Somehow this always happened. Somehow Pickles always managed to get the better of him and lure him out of his comfort zone. He wished he had more self control. He wished it didn’t feel so good to let himself be a little bad.

“We’re makin’ a mess.” Pickles snickered at him, and when Charles looked down at his pants he saw the tell-tale damp spot a few inches left of his fly. And the flour from Pickles’ hand rubbed into the khakis along the length of his erection. It would be unmistakable now what they’d been up to.

“Maybe we should, ah—” he started to say, concern cutting through the cloud of arousal, but Pickles pushed him harder into the corner and kissed him again to shut him up. His thighs trembled at the gathering pressure between his legs, his head reeling with every satisfying stroke. How had he come undone so quickly? Was it being out in the open like this? Was it the fear of getting caught?

Nathan could walk in and see them clear as day. Skwisgaar might be home from the liquor store any second. Or William and Toki could get back with arms full of tupperware and catch them in the act. How would he look to them? Knees weak, face flushed red, bracing himself on the countertop for dear life as Pickles kissed him and basically jacked him off right there in the kitchen? A mortifying thought, and yet it burned hot in him like fuel.

God, he wasn’t into this sort of thing, was he?

A sudden anxious pleasure fluttered through him and had him pulling away from the kiss in a panic, his hands on Pickles chest. He was too close already. Much too close. But Pickles just kept rubbing him with that grin on his face as the rough, sweet sensation reached a point of inevitability.

“Pickles, if you, ah, keep going—”

“Uh-huh?”

“—if-if you—”

No time. He balled Pickles’ shirt in his fists, made a rather undignified noise he attempted to stifle, and came in his pants with a tense shiver. Wet, relieving warmth pooled for a blissful moment then started to run down his left pant leg, darkening the khaki as it went.

“Holy shit,” Pickles said like he was proud of him. He laughed and kissed him, fingers still trailing delicately over his restricted length to the damp tip.

Charles trembled in the soupy afterglow, but a second or two later snapped back to reality. “Oh, ah…” He inspected the damage, squirming as his ejaculate began to cool uncomfortably, and he looked quickly to the door in a jolt of sobriety. Did he hear keys? He hurried to untuck his checkered button-down to hide the stain, but it wasn’t quite long enough no matter how hard he pulled. “I-I can’t be seen like this, Pickles, I just can’t, I—”

“Shh! I gotcha, chief.”

The door began to creak open, and just as Skwisgaar came through, balancing two heavy-looking brown bags in his arms, Pickles pulled his messy apron over Charles’ head and swiftly tied him into it. Charles drew a nervous breath and didn’t dare exhale.

“Skwisgaar!” Pickles cheered, leaving his side to intercept the man before he walked into the kitchen. “Lemme get that for ya, pal o’ mine! Ya just go rest, awright? Take a load off. Go relaaaaaax.”

Skwisgaar happily let Pickles take the bags from him, and if he suspected anything strange at all he didn’t voice it, just stretched his long arms over his head and yawned. “Goods idea. Wakes me up whens foods ams finish?”

“Caaaan do!” Pickles continued in that saccharine tone of his, really laying it on much thicker than he needed to. Charles fiddled with the apron and listened for the sound of Skwisgaar’s bedroom door, and the instant he heard it he allowed himself to breathe again.

“Ohdearlord.” He felt faint, either from holding his breath or nearly getting caught. Maybe both. “That was much too close for comfort.”

Speaking of comfort, the slow trail of cold ejaculate reached his knee, trickling below the concealing hem of the apron. He wriggled his leg and tried to paw at the stain without touching it directly, certain he was beet red. Pickles thankfully set the bags down on the kitchen counter and placed a hand on the small of his back to direct him.

“C’mahn, Charlie,” he whispered, quiet and conspiratorial so Skwisgaar wouldn’t hear through the walls, “I got some cum-free pants I can loan ya.”

“You have clean pants?” Charles asked.

Pickles giggled and pushed him along. “I didn’t say clean.”

[summertime4k]

forgetting to not forget you // karlnapity

AU: karl comes up with how to to stop all the bad from happening...but he has to sacrifice the ones he didn’t want to

A/N: sorry for any spelling mistakes, i spent all night proof reading lol. uh, let me know if you have any suggestions for other oneshots !! they don’t have to be karlnapity only :]

.

.

.

Karl closed the book, running his hand through his hair as he thought about his plan carefully. surely, it would work, it had to. but was it worth it?

he wanted everyone to finally be happy. to bring peace for once and for all. he’d gone through hell and back; future and past. it seemed easy enough.

but it isn’t.

he looked behind him, the covers of the tales surrounding him. the stories he’d lived and seen. almost like if they were mocking him. laughing at how indecisive karl was acting, this should be an easy decision; risk losing the ones he loves, or have everyone be at peace.

letting out a loud sigh, karl walked backwards until his back hit the wall. he slid down and held his forehead to his hand. the headache getting worse and worse the more time went on.

peace or loss. peace or loss. peace or loss. peace or loss.

“karl? where are you?” sapnaps voice rang from above. the floor.

his eyes widened, he got up and shoved all his books into the chest, running up and starting to up the ladder until the trapdoor opened. Karl was met with Sapnaps face of confusion. “Karl? it’s been an hour, are you okay?”

“of course,” karl got himself up and moved sapnap far enough to where he couldn’t peak inside as he closed the door. “i was just doing some things- non important things that i got carried away with...”

Nodding to himself, not believing karl but deciding against interrogating him. “Okay...quackity made food by the way. he made birria?? i don’t exactly know what it is but it seems really delicious and quackity is really excited about it.”

“sure, i’ll be there in a bit, i need some books.” karl spoke, getting up from the floor and helping sapnap up. he softly kissed sapnaps cheek and smiled, “you can go on without me”

sapnap trusted karl. he nodded and pecked karl’s forehead after moving the hair covering it, “okay, but don’t take too long because quackity and i are probably going to down them all”

the two shared a laugh, forgetting as to why karl was in the hidden room. sapnap simply turned around and started to make his way out the library and back to their home.

karl’s eyes followed sapnap, his heart fell when he realized what he had to do. he ran his fingers where sapnap left the kiss, and thought about the countless other from both him and quackity.

He turned back around to the secret room and thought about his plan better. after much thinking, he knew exactly what he needed to do.

-

quackity and sapnap looked around the library as they ran in, looking for karl once again. the two were out of breath, but had bright smiles stuck on their faces.

“karl?! karl!! we-we have good news!!” quackity called out, “you’re gonna be so happy!!” he turned around and signaled to sapnap to go up the staircase.

he continued looking around the furniture in the library. the seats in the far corner were empty, and didn’t show any sign of karl having to be there recently. his eyes looked at the mushroom, something drew him toward it. his feet took him closer, placing his hand on the stem of it as he thought about karl.

one of the loves of his life- he no longer needed to worry about the past. they could all live happily together with no worry of a war that could be going on.

sighing, quackity looked around it, eyes fixating on a brown note taped on the stem. he’d try to get it, but his height wouldn’t let him. “sap!! i found something!!”

the stairs creaked, sapnap speeded down the stairs to where quackity stood. confused about the note as well, “you think it’s from karl?”

“shit, probably...”

the two stared at it for a little. they didn’t know if they wanted to read it. the pit in their stomach felt at unease, but their heart told them it was important.

Dear sapnap and quackity,

you’re probably reading this because you have good news. and i can’t wait to hear it!! just know that...i had to do something for this to happen. i’m not supposed to tell anyone about this, but because you’re my fiancé’s, i trust you two.

as you two know, i’m not exactly like you guys. one of the things that separates us, is my powers. i couldn’t tell you guys this because i feared that it cause for realities to shift. but after during more thorough research, i was able to decide that after this i can tell you guys. as long as you don’t tell anyone.

i can time travel. and i used it to my advatange to figure out how i can save our reality. and im going to do exactly that. which is why i’m writing this down before i do that. because it did come at a certain price.

if i used my powers the way i had to, it would wipe my memory. the only thing i’d know would be what i did, why, and how. i would lose my memory about the people i’ve met- which included the two of you.

but one thing i know for a fact, is that i know that our love won’t change. you’ll see why later in the future when we look back at this. but i just needed to tell you guys this.

and becayse i know everyone will ask why i don’t remember them, tell them that i fell from a really high place, and landed on an enderman. sorry to ranboo for that one, lol.

please, promise me; you won’t tell anyone about this anf why it happened. i’ll be in the hidden room under the trap door, i will probably be sleeping when you guys walk in.

with all my heart, in all timelines, i love you both.

sincerely, karl j.

Quackity looked up at sapnap, who had the same shocked face as him as they finished reading the letter. tears threatened to fall down their face as they processed everything they just read.

their fiancé could time travel, and he gave up his memory about everyone just to have everyone live in peace.

that was such a karl thing to do.

sapnap looked at the trap door, scared to get close to it. his feet felt frozen to the ground the more he stared at it.

“hey, sap,” quackity spoke, “karl said that our love won’t change no matter what. and i have a good feeling about it” he attempted to soothe his fiancé.

sapnap glanced at quackity, biting his lip and letting his hand make its way to quackity’s. drawing circles on it to calm himself down, “you’re right. karl wouldn’t lie...”

“that’s the spirit” quackity lifted their intertwined hands and gently placed a kiss on sapnaps. “it’s gonna be okay sap.”

nodding. the two began to step toward the door, anxiety circling around their minds as they began to unlock it. the pit in their stomach went into flames while they opened the trap door.

they started to make their way down the ladder, each step down sending their stomach down as well.

they noticed karl was laying on the floor, hair on his face, with his left hand covering the lower half. quackity and sapnap looked at each other, and back down at karl.

“should we wake him up?”

“would that be a good idea?”

the two debated on waking him up, failing on noticing the sounds of confusion coming from the melatonin filled voice that belonged to their love.

“wh...what?” karl’s voice softly rang through. sapnaps and quackity’s head whipping toward karl’s direction. “who...what happened?...” he looked around, his left hand coming up to his head and rubbing his temple. his eyes finally locking with the two boys in front of him.

they looked heartbroken. no tears were visible, but their eyes were like the ocean, pulling at the strings of karl’s heart the more he processed their facial expressions. he stood up, once again; scanning the room before standing a couple feet away from them.

karl looked down, blushing red as the two boys looked at him. his eyes darted around the room and and took in his surroundings. “did it- did it work??”

“mhm” they said in unison.

he looked back at them, trying to distinguish their face. “i don’t...i don’t recognize you guys...who are you?”

it stung their hearts as the words left karl’s mouth. “we are- we...” the two failed, they looked at each other, then at the paper between them.

“maybe this can help?” sapnap asked as he handed karl the paper. “you left this the other night, maybe it can help...”

accepting the paper carefully, karl moved his hair and began to read it. the two fiancé’s stood there, waiting for him to finish reading it.

after a couple of minutes, karl looked up slowly with his mouth slightly open, “i- i- we’re all- we’re fiancé’s??” he curiousity rang in his voice, looking at sapnap and quackity with wide eyes. “the- the two of you...love me??” he asked, slowly letting himself sit down again.

“very much, karl,” quackity said, sitting in front of him as he brought sapnap down with him. “sap and i are so happy to have you back”

[petri808]

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10

Inukag AU

A month had gone by and the doctors finally felt confident enough to bring Kagome out of the medically induced coma. The bleeding in her brain had completely stopped, and the damaged areas were beginning to heal nicely. But they warned the family, that despite this development, it didn’t mean she’d wake up immediately. So, despite this movement, she was kept on all the other machines that supported her breathing functions and nutritional needs. Time continued to drone on day after day, with no other signs of life except for the beeps and whooshing sounds of those machines. It took another two weeks before Kagome’s body regained full control over her bodily functions. In order to accomplish this task, the doctors weaned her off the breathing tubes, slowly decreasing the level of oxygen being forced in, and causing the body to put in the work. It was a relief to see her doing it on her own. Each small step forward towards normalcy was a vital win.

Every day Inuyasha maintained his vigil at Kagomes side, holding her hand, sensitive to any slight ticks or changes and waiting for the moment she’d show unquestionable signs that she’d wake up soon. At first, he would simply sit there silently in the quiet room, but the recovery counselors that stopped by convinced him to talk to her, read to her, let Kagome hear his voice. Some believed that coma patients can hear what was going on around them, so it was worth a shot. But what was he supposed to say? Inuyasha was confused and nervous. It felt weird to talk to an unconscious person. He started out simple, awkwardly telling Kagome about that day at work, maybe some interesting news happening in their town. Then one day, her mom found some old storybooks Kagome’s grandfather would read to her when she was little, and one story in particular caught his attention. It was a fable, an ancient tale about a sorceress and a demon who fought over the power of a sacred stone. The Shikon no Tama was an old story that his own mother had once relayed to him.

So, for three weeks since being weaned off of the machines, Inuyasha read to Kagome a chapter of the book. Night after night like a bedtime story, recounting the woven tale of greed and power, and the ultimate triumph over good and evil. Of course, he didn’t believe any of it actually happened, but it was an interesting tale. He especially liked the part of the sorceress finding love and happiness in the end because in a way he could relate to it. Not all the magical stuff, which even as a demon he still felt was too far fetched, but the journey the two undertook to realize how they felt about each other. The sorceress was the obvious main character, but the hapless warrior who fought beside her was an important part of her journey. They learned from, supporting each other’s growth and self-discovery and in the end, together they defeated the demon.

Mama Higurashi placed her hand on Inuyasha’s shoulder as she came for a visit. “Kagome loved that one too,”

“It... kind of feels like us,” he looks to the woman on the bed,” but... in a modern twist. Kikyo was once the Shikon no Tama keeping them apart, and amnesia their demon to destroy, but it’s what it took for him to fully realize how much he truly loved the protagonist in his real life story. Now, Inuyasha only hoped for their own happy ending.

“Just remember one thing from the story,” mama higurashi retorted. “Nothing truly good is born from easy. It was the hard fought journey that brought the sorceress and the warrior together. If you keep that in mind as you fight this battle, I have no doubt you’ll succeed in the end.”

Mrs. Higurashi’s words really cut deep into Inuyasha and solidified how he felt. “Thanks Mama.”

The next evening that Inuyasha visited was already growing late and soon he would normally leave to get some sleep for work. He’d fallen asleep, resting his head against the bed, but his hand stayed clutched to Kagomes. It was brief and light, at first easily dismissed the general tick of a sleeping person. But by the third, the grip strengthened and woke up the sleeping Hanyo. Inuyasha sat up immediately focused on the face in the bed, searching for any other signs that Kagome was truly waking up. A few minutes passed by, but the woman’s eyes stayed closed and features serene as if in a dream like state. Perhaps that’s just all it was, a dream to shatter a hopeful hanyo. Inuyasha sighed and looked at the time. 11pm. He really should get back home and get some sleep.

But then, another, much stronger squeeze of his hand came, and the grip stayed firmly closed. “Kagome?” He questioned with hope brimming in his shaky tone. “Kagome?” Still, the woman slept peacefully in front of him. Inuyasha’s ears lowered with dismay, but he reminded himself this was the strongest reaction they’d received so far. It was a strong hope to latch onto. He kissed her forehead. “I’ll see you tomorrow love,” and retreated for the night praying their answers will come the next day.

Two days later, Inuyasha was halfway through his workday when he received a call from Mrs. Higurashi that Kagome had woken up. This is it! Kagomes awake! He raced to the hospital excited to see his girlfriend, only to be stopped at the door.

“Before you go in there, Inuyasha,” Mrs Higurashi spoke quietly, “I want to warn you the doctors were right— she… she doesn’t remember anything after finishing college.”

Inuyashas heart sunk in his chest like ship going down against a reef. Despite knowing this could very well be the outcome, to face it in reality was much harder than one could ever imagine. His face grew ashen, and ears fell with a whine.

She hugged him tight. “Don’t lose hope yet, remember this may very well be temporary, so we just need to get through this together.”

“I know,” his ears receded further into his hair line. “I’ll try, for her, I’ll do anything.”

“I know you will.” Mrs. Higurashi caressed his face. “Come, let me introduce you to her.”

When Inuyasha walked in, Kagome was still laying down. She seemed a little different which should be expected, probably confused, yet otherwise with a smile. Mrs. Higurashi guided Inuyasha to her daughter’s bedside, coaxing him to take his usual seat beside her.

“Kagome, I know you don’t remember any of this yet, but this,” Mrs. Higurashi gestured at the man, “is your boyfriend Inuyasha Taisho. You met after college.”

“Oh,” Kagome stared at the man inquisitively as if trying to search her incomplete memories. “I’m sorry I don’t remember any of it.”

“Do you remember what the doctor told you?” Her mother prompted.

“That I should be able to get my memories back once I healed completely?”

Mrs. Higurashi nodded. “This may all be very confusing, but we’re gonna do our best to help you through this.”

“I trust you momma.” Kagome looked back to the man sitting beside her and saw the tears trickling down his cheeks. “I’m so sorry Inuyasha.” She reached out and took his hand. “I bet this is pretty hard on you too.”

He shook his head. “This is all my fault. If we hadn’t fought, you wouldn’t have gotten hurt in the first place.”

Kagome paused, “what did we fight about?”

Such a simple question triggered a new cascade of tears, but Inuyasha slowly and diligently recounted that horrible night. He held back no details, right down to the luncheon with his ex that proved Kagome had been right all along. It felt so good to come clean, but now a panic rose up. “The last thing you’d said to me was you hated me, and I agree, I deserved that hatred for what I put you through. If I could go back in time, there’s so many things I’d do differently.”

Kagome processed his words for a few minutes quietly, then squeezed his hand. “You said I hate you, but why do I feel like that’s not true. I don’t know if it’s because I can’t remember, but I just feel like, I really don’t.”

“It’s probably because you can’t remember,” he mumbled. “And that’s okay. I deserve it.”

“Or, I just said it because I was angry at the time. Inuyasha, when I look at you now, and see the pain in your eyes, I get the sense that we both may have said things we didn’t really mean.”

Inuyasha perked up. Her personality was still very much intact, and wow, did he love hearing the fire in her tone! “I swear I’m gonna make it all up to you! I’m so, so, sorry for everything Kagome!”

“I’m still here aren’t I,” she smiled. “You just might have to make me fall in love all over again.”

“You’re worth the challenge.”

That brought a blush to Kagome’s cheeks. Waking up with no memory of a chunk of time certainly sucks, but she had to admit, it could have been worse. She still had all of her faculties, her personality, her life, and apparently a really cute guy willing to do anything to keep her around.

[whump-town]

Books & Bonding

(There is no point to this, it’s just a drabble I wrote after finishing my Art History paper) Enjoy some bittersweet father son bonding 

Jack is laying upside on the couch, the way Hotch has probably told him a thousand times before not to. So that his ass is propped up where a back would normally go and his back is where a butt should be. He’s letting the blood rush to his head because it, direct quote, “help him think better”. At this current time and place, Hotch is too distracted trying not to burn cookies in the oven and keeping pasta stirred. So he doesn’t waste his breathe telling his son, again, not to sit like that. 

“You just don’t understand,” Jack sighs wistfully. 

Hotch has managed to raise one strange kid. He’s seventeen-years-old and spends more time ranting and raving about books than girls (or, hell, boys). Hotch doesn’t even know where they stand on that. They’ve discussed gender and sex, in more of a book sort of way. Jack had gone on about chosen expression differing from biological traits and Hotch can’t even remember why that was. He just knows what followed it was The Hunger Games sequels because that had prompted a discussion on riots and Hotch’s personal beliefs on the government.

There’s never a dull moment.

Pausing in his pasta stirring, Hotch takes a moment to correctly process the rant he’s just been on the receiving end of. Rubbing his palm into his eye, he wonders if it would be simpler to talk about gender expression again. At least then he knew what to say. 

Now they’re… debating, what? Identities? 

Raising his son around the team might have been a bit of a mistake. Jack seems to consume the parts of the team that Hotch has always struggled with the most. Reid’s quickly devolving, circling rants about anything and nothing at all. Emily’s obsession with books that require a strange and open mind to the natural progression of the world. Fucking woodwork from Morgan. Where does that even come from?

Humming to himself, he collects what he thinks is a good response. “The point,” he asks, glancing towards the living room. Waiting for Jack to pop up and he does, resting his chin on the cushion as he watches his father. “The point is that there is a danger in being anyone but yourself, yes?” 

Jack nods, “essentially.”

Hotch hums, nodding his head. He might be able to remember the title of the book, Jack probably mentioned at some point, he does understand Vonnegut. Emily got Jack a collection of his work for Christmas last year after the two made an entire day of picking apart Margret Atwood’s “Handmaid’s Tale”. Of course, he’d also read the book but it was far more interesting to sit back and observe the two of them. 

“What does that mean for you?” Hotch asks. He means it. 

It seems to do the trick. To scratch whatever itch Jack wasn’t finding on his own. He deflates, sinking as he thinks about it. 

Seventeen-years. That’s how long it’s taken for Hotch to realize he’s a better father than he’d thought. Better than he could have ever imagined. He’d been terrified when he’d first been handed Jack. Shaking, the nurses had taunted him for that. He’s a federal agent who was in a national news making explosion, Boston, and he’s afraid of a newborn baby that weighs six pounds and some change. 

But he wasn’t afraid of Jack. He was afraid of those eyes looking back at him. The same eyes as his and the same eyes as his father. 

He and Jack don’t have a complicated relationship, not the one that plays out so tauntingly on the television in seemingly every movie. Not once, has he ever raised his voice or, God-forbid, even his hand. And Jack is pretty normal considering. Just a standard kid making his weigh through the world and the best part is-- 

he tears up a little just standing here thinking about it-- Jack always comes home. 

Hotch never had a home. 

A dad. 

“I don’t know who I am.”

Hotch blinks quickly, shaking his head. He’s not expecting that. 

Jack has moved from the couch, now aimlessly walking circles in the kitchen. He’s barefoot and in a sweatshirt, Hotch knows he stole from his closet. He’s worn the knees out of his jeans and the bottoms are rolled up. They’re thrifted and his favorite. 

The melancholy hits Hotch right in the chest. That stupid sweatshirt. He’d hid it in his closet because he can’t bear to part with it but he can’t stand to look at it. Haley used to wear it far more than he ever did. 

For every part of Haley left in their son-- the sandy blond hair, love for complicated books, and pacing that has always driven Hotch mad-- there are pieces of Hotch as well. The lanky body and hair that can only be contained with an unGodly amount of gel and a skilled hand. 

Where does Hotch even begin to explain the in and outs of identity? That this half-way through puberty child of his is built out of ancient love. The kind not meant to last but hurt. That it’s never as simple as  “I am”, it is everything. It’s not the sum of a whole. There is nothing set in place and Jack will change and change again before he even realizes it. He’ll hate parts and cling to others desperately but there will never be an answer. Yet, every guess he’ll come up with will be right. 

“Don’t worry about that,” Hotch assures him softly. This will make one hell of a conversation to have with Dave some time but for right now, it’s… complicated and he doesn’t have an answer. “You’ll figure it out,” Hotch affirms with enough confidence that they both buy it. Hotch doesn’t doubt for a second that his off the walls bookworm of a child will come to understand who he is. Today’s just not the day and that’s understandable. “For now, go pick a movie and I’ll bring you some macaroni, alright?”

Jack looks like he wants to push that. He doesn’t. A part of can rationalizes that his father doesn’t know the answer either and… A pang of sadness and a bit of fear hits his chest, his dad is tired. Too tired for the kind of long-winded conversation that Jack’s brought into play. 

It’s a strange fear that he’s carried his entire life. Mortality is a hell of a thing to become aware of. 

Jack curls up on the couch, he’s going to milk the hell out of movie night. Eating dinner on the couch is a rare gift and he’s excited by the thought of breaking a rule… sort of. 

“This the book,” Hotch asks two bowls in hand but stopped to bend and scowl at the book cover on the coffee table. 

Jack nods his head, taking his bowl and freeing one of Hotch’s hand so that he can pick the book up and examine it. “You can read it,” he offers, scoping too hot macaroni straight into his mouth. As one does, he proceeds to sit with his mouth open and look obscene as his mouth burns. He then follows it by another mouthful, as if that one will have magically cooled down. 

Hotch puts it back down and takes note of the title. He’ll read it and then he’ll ask Emily about it. He settles down on the couch like he’s got any intent on watching this movie. In reality, he’s going to eat maybe half of his dinner and fall asleep before the rising action of the movie can even be established. 

“What’re we watching?”

Jack smirks and hits play, “gonna be honest, no idea. It has Keira Knightley in it so that was the appeal.” He glances over at Hotch, knowing that his father has no idea who the actress in mind is but he won’t ask. Not for reasons guided by ego but because it won’t matter.

By the time she comes on screen, Hotch is asleep.

Without comment, Jack pulls the throw blanket behind them down. He takes the bowl out of Hotch’s hands, setting on the coffee table, and covers Hotch up. With a sigh, he lays his head down on his father’s thigh. 

Hotch wakes just enough to realize what’s happening and wraps his arm around Jack’s chest, keeping him close. 

Knees pulled to his chest, Jack finds himself falling asleep too. For a moment, tears sting his eyes as he realizes that his dad is never going to carry him to bed again. He’ll never fall asleep on the couch and wake up half-wrangled up in his dad’s arms like a ragdoll too tired to protest but content beyond means. 

He just wishes he could go back and appreciate that one last time.

(the book in question is Kurt Vonnegut’s Mother Night and it’s my favorite book of his)

[stevesharrlngtons]

what i want.

roman godfrey x reader

summary: takes place in s1 of hemlock grove just after roman’s coma and the aftermath.  

word count: 3.1k

a/n: yeaaahhhh so i know this is st related but it felt more right to post this here over my marvel account? anyways, i just really really wanted to write for roman and this poured out of me yesterday (which is surprising bc i can’t remember the last time i wrote a fic all in one day) but even though i already know this is gonna flop, i wanted to post it anyway just for fun (: i hope you enjoy and if you do read, please let me know that you think!!!!

With an ear pressed to his chest and a hand cradling his neck, you counted the rhythmic beats of his frail heart.

He looked the same, felt the same, smelt the same; but the man we lay still below you wasn’t Roman. Not in the metaphorical sense at least. This man who’s lashes lay gently against the apples of his cheeks obscuring his large doe eyes, wasn’t your love. He was still and quiet and lacked the emotion of your Roman. Your Roman who could never hide how he really felt, who wore every feeling on his sleeve, unable to mask his emotion.

At least, always around you.

A soft french ballad played in the background as you hunched over his hospital bed in the attic of the Godfrey home. You could hear the faint scratch of the needle against the vinyl, more so when there was a lull between songs.

Heavy footsteps entered from your right and you knew before they reached you that it was Shelly to fetch you for school.

“I know, Shell.” You said quietly, like you might wake Roman from his restless sleep if you spoke any louder, “I just need a few more minutes with him.”

The tall girl loomed over you both, watching you stroke Roman’s cheek lovingly with your thumb, the rest of your nimble fingers still holding his thin neck.

She had never experienced the kind of unequivocal and palpable love that she did when she observed you and Roman together. She often wondered if all the tales of true love and soulmates that were regaled in some of her favorite novels were actually true? Because the way you looked at Roman, and the way Roman looked at you, could not be fabricated or faked.

After a long beat of silence, Shelly gripped her phone and typed out a simple message to you.

“I miss him, too.”

She could see tears forming in your eyes once more. Your eyes that seemed to have not ceased their perpetual filming for the last two weeks Roman had been under.

All you could was nod in response. When Shelly placed a dense hand on your shoulder, you silently wept.

It all felt so surreal. But Roman was always larger than life, you probably should have prepared for something like this. You were just so scared.

That night two weeks before, when he had come to you in the pouring rain, drenched to the bone, you had been scared then, too. Roman was dramatic, yes. But never anything like this. He trembled fiercely and his fingers twitched and his muscles rippled with fear.

He didn’t seem himself as you wrapped him in blankets and placed him in your bed to warm his icy bones. You had wound your arms around him as he cried into your neck, tears and snot streaking your skin as you soothed him the best you could.

“I’m ugly, I’m a monster, I am unlovable and disgusting.” He chanted between hiccups and deep intakes of breath, like he was under a spell.

“Please stop, please don’t say that. You’re not, you’re not, you’re not. I love you, I always will.” You whispered sincerely to him, beginning to shutter yourself at the uncharatieric behavior he was displaying.

He startled you even more when he grasped your wrists together with one hand and flipped you onto your back, meeting you with a fierce kiss before you could comprehend his actions.

It was all teeth and tongue and labored breathing as Roman pulled your strings in only the way that he could. Once he was inside you, he only became more brutal. It was more pain than pleasure as he looked at you with soulless eyes and his mouth agape. But everything Roman was, was good. Even now he felt like heaven.

When he had finished and pulled two orgasms from your body, he collapsed on top of you. You cocooned him with your limbs, whispering loving words and frightened questions as his body seemed to pass out from sheer emotional exhaustion, anchoring you beneath him.

The next morning, you were dressed in nothing but Roman’s cardigan and tucked underneath your duvet with no knowledge of his departure the night before.

It was only minutes after you woke that Olivia called to curtly inform you of Roman’s condition.

You placed your own hand, the one not holding Roman, over Shelly’s and squeezed it.

“He is so lucky to have you.” You said, swallowing thickly to look up and give Shelly a smile, “He loves you so much, I know he’ll wake just for you.”

Shelly knew you were trying to soothe her as well, something you had a knack for since you came into the two Godfrey’s lives. She appreciated it greatly, but wished you would let yourself swim and stop trying to make sure she stayed afloat.

“You, as well. He will wake for us.” Shelly typed and you squeezed her hand in a tight pulse.

“We can only hope.”

You dropped Shelly’s hand as she went to turn the music off while you kissed Roman goodbye.

“Where, today?” Came Shelly’s mechanical voice as the music ceased.

“His left eyelid.” You replied, standing up and stroking Roman’s porecelain cheek.

You had taken to kissing a new part of Roman each day as you left him. To cherish him even while his mind was missing. You were saving his lips for when he woke, hoping his subconscious would crave your mouth on his enough to jar him from his slumber. Roman was never quiet about his appreciation for your lips.  

“And tomorrow?” She asked.

“The other.”

As you sat in english class, you couldn’t help but feel Peter’s absence in the seat next to yours. With neither him nor Roman around, you felt off kilter. The boys had been going through a rough patch lately, but Peter was still your friend when Roman wasn’t looking. Giving you winks that would reply with an eye roll, and chatting between classes. You believed you could mend the fence between the two men by simply being Switzerland, but after the police incident, Peter wasn’t so sure.

But you and Roman were alike in many ways, you told Peter as much.

“You two will work this out. Even if it gets hard.” You say flippantly one day as you rummaged through your purse for a tube of lipgloss.

“Yeah? And how do you know? Are you an oracle and just haven’t told me?” Peter jokes as you take the cosmetic from your bag.

You remove the fuzzy doe-foot applicator from the pink make up with a loud squelch and smirk at him.

“Because not only do I know everything,” a swipe of the goods on your lips, “But, I always get what I want.”

Now, his absence along with Roman’s seemed to be significant. Connected.

And then you got a call.

And the ID almost gave you a heart attack.

You fled the classroom without the formality of an excuse. It wasn’t any secret that you and Roman were a couple, so some teachers had been far more lenient with you since he had fallen under. Thankfully, Ms. Day was one of them.

You ran from the class and around the corner for the veil of privacy before you picked up the call.

“Roman?”

“God, how I’ve missed your voice.” He said, punctuated with his melodic laugh.

You burst into tears, clenching your phone tightly in your sweating palm as Roman cooed to you.

“Hey, hey, no. No tears, baby. Too fucking hot to be sad, you know that?”

“I’m not sad, God no! These are tears of joy, of fucking relief.” You felt suddenly very fatigued from the worry and dread escaping your body at the sound of Roman’s voice, and slid down the wall to the grey linoleum below.

“Good, hate to think you’d forget about me after two weeks out of commission.” You could see his smile in your minds eye and your stomach twinge with love.

“You know I could never forget about you.” You replied, whipping your damp cheeks on the back of your hand.

“I’m glad. I was counting on it.” You can see his smirk now.

“Dick.” You laughed and he did as well.

“Eh, you love me.”

“Yeah, yeah I do.”

There was a silence and you wished so helplessly that he was in your arms. Your Roman. Not the still and sterile one. The one with a wicked tongue and a beautiful smile that he offered to you so freely.

It was in this silence though, that you heard the purr of an engine.

“Baby, are you in a car? Are you with Olivia?”

“Uh, no. Not exactly.” And the bubble of joy popped just as it had formed.

“Roman, where are you? Why are you in a car?”

“It’s nothing for you to worry about, my love.” He hummed quietly his adoration and immediately you knew what was happening.

“Put Peter on the phone.”

“How did you-”

“Just fucking do it, Roman.”

You could hear him curse, then the shuffle of the phone being passed between hands.

“Hey, (Y/N/N), how’ya doin’?” Peter asked, faking a calm tone.

“Let’s forget the goddamn pleasantries, Peter. What in the living fuck are you doing trying to track this wolf when Roman just rose from the dead?”

“Rose from the dead sounds a bit dramatic, don’t you think?”

“Does it sound like I give a shit?”

“Frankly, no. It doesn’t.”

“And what does it sound like I give a shit about?”

“Probably Roman not doing this right now.”

“Bingo, Fiddo. Now you either take him back to his house or I am coming to find you two and I promise you, I can be scarier than Olivia.” You hissed into the receiver, looking around to make sure no rouge students in the halls were hearing your conversation.

“Oh I don’t doubt it. But this was his choice, (Y/N). Nothing neither of us can do anything to change his mind.”

“Peter, I swear to-” This time, you were the one cut short.

“Baby, listen,” Roman said after commandeering his phone back.

“No, Roman, you listen! I know you have some attachment to helping kill this thing, but now isn’t the time.”

“But it is. It’s complicated, but you just have to trust me on this.”

“I do trust you, Ro. I do. But I don’t trust whatever this thing is.” You sighed, leaning your head back against the wall, “Unfortunately I do trust what it is capable of. Which is a fuck tone pain.”

“I’ll be safe. I have Peter, Peter’s got me. I got this. We know what we’re doing.”

“Wish I could believe that.”

“Baby, I promise. I swear, even. We are gonna find some answers and then I’ll be home to you in one piece.”

You pause and Roman calls your name from the phone, his voice vulnerable.

“It’s funny. This morning you were in a coma and you were more safe then than you are right now.”

“I love you.” Roman says firmly.

“I know.”

Another pause and you know you can’t scold your way out of this one.

“Just… please call me when you get back. I don’t think I can take another minute of being away from you.” Your tears were beginning again.

“Me too. You’re all I can think about,” Roman sniffles, “I need you, I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

You both sit in silence on the line before Roman tells you he needs to go.

“Ok… but hey, Turner?”

“Yeah?”

“Tell Hooch to be careful. Both of you just… be careful.”

“Always.”

And the line goes dead.

After school you debated going straight to the Godfrey residence to wait for Roman to return, but decided against it. You weren’t sure exactly what Olivia knew and didn’t know, and didn’t feel like being alone with her while you figured it out.

So, you waited anxiously in your bedroom, doing everything possible to quell your shaking nerves. You had a perpetual tremor in your body as fiddled with your phone to try and distract yourself. Which was partly true, the other reason your phone was glued to your palm was so you would know the second Roman contacted you.

Though, as the sun descended in the sky and the night sky spanned for hours, you were becoming more restless. Whatever Peter and Roman were doing was no doubt dangerous and time sensitive, and it made you sick that it was nearing midnight without any word from either boy.

As the night continued to wear on and your mind ran away from rationality into an amalgamation of pure fear and absurdity, you decided you couldn’t sit around anymore. You weren’t going to wait for Roman to call and tell you he was home safe. You were going to drive to his house and wait for him there, and if he wasn’t back in an hour, you’d go out looking for him yourself.

As you put on a pair of house slippers and a sweatshirt over your nightgown, your phone vibrated on your vanity. Your heart began to speed up in your chest as you rushed over to the table and picked up your buzzing phone. On the screen was a text alert from Roman, with only one word present:

Come.

And you didn’t need to be told twice.

When you arrived at the Godfrey’s, you fled your car so quickly you almost forget the keys in the ignition. You ran up the front steps and banged both fists on the door needing to use your excess anxiety and adrenaline for something. And while you didn’t want to face Olivia’s wrath, your judgment was clouded by the chance of seeing Roman, alive and well.

When Roman finally opened the door, you wasted no time throwing yourself into his arms. He stumbled at the impact of your embrace, but was quick to remedy his shock by wrapping his arms around you. The feeling of this made your throat constrict.

“Jesus fucking Christ I missed you.” Roman all but growled as he firmly smoothed flyaways from your hair and placed his strong hand on the back of your neck.

“You have no idea how much I missed you, Ro.” You said, voice thick with tears as you began to pepper kisses anywhere you could reach.

Neck, jaw, ear, temple, cheek, shoulder, trap, clavicle, repeat.

Roman groaned appreciatively in your ear as you covered him in your lips.

“You scared me half to death you know?” You said between kisses.

“I know, I’m sorry. Things have been… odd. I still can’t remember it all.” Roman says, his tone confused.

“Well, Olivia said-”

“I know what she said. I just don’t know if I believe it.”

You furrowed your brows and tried to wiggle in his hold, silently signaling for Roman to place you back on your feet, but he only gripped you tighter.

“Not yet. Just, stay a while.” His voice wavered.

You finally pulled back to look at him, his eyes red from tears and shadowed. Sometimes it was difficult to look at him, his beauty and pain were just too much.

“I’m staying, Roman. You couldn’t get me to leave if you wanted to.” You reply.

A wash of emotion washes over his features as his lip quivers and his eyes attempt to blink back tears. You opened your mouth to try and alleviate him of whatever he was feeling when his mouth crashed to yours.

You forgot how good his lips felt against yours as your mouths meshed together. The velvet of his tongue and the mint and smoke on his breath. His hands gripping you everywhere as he pressed you impossibly close, moaning into you with deep primal noises sounding from his chest.

“Roman, baby,” You pulled away for air and Roman promptly moved his attention to your neck and clavicle. “I need you. Take me upstairs, I can’t wait any longer.”

Roman groaned and bit you hard on the shoulder before hitching your legs higher on his hips and running you both up the winding staircase behind him.

Bruises, at the behest of his mouth and fingers, littered your body as you lay on Roman’s chest as you both still reeled in the blissful aftermath of your climaxes. Roman’s fingers idled along and spine while his unoccupied hand rested behind his head.

He had begun to tell the tale of his night, of Peter and the turn and Chasseur and his mother. He told you Peter was upstairs unconscious and that he was unsure what was going to happen when he woke.

“So, after all this, everything’s still shitty? Is that what you’re saying?” You muttered.

“Essentially. But I have hope… we’re going to figure this out. I know it.” Roman nodded, like he is reassuring himself more than you.

“Me too. You two are smart,”

“You flatter me.” Roman chuckles and looks down at you.

“Just trying to butter you up to get into your pants.” He laughs again and slaps your ass.

“Clearly it’s working.” He replies.

“Well that, and I always get what I want.” You say with a content smile.

Roman hums, “Don’t I know it.”

“You enable it.”

“Again, I know.” He kisses your forehead and you burrow closer to him.

You two lay in silence a bit longer before he sighs.

“I think we should move to sleep in the attic. Just in case something happens with Peter and he needs us.”

We. Us.

The small implication in his word choice makes you smile and once again fall under a wave of emotion, just so happy that your Roman was back to you.

You don’t know what you had done if there was no we or us with Roman any longer. But you choose to not fixate on the past.

You just nod and kiss the underside of his chin. Roman gives you a small grin and begins to get up. As you do the same, Roman throws you one of his white button downs, giving you a stern look as you raise an eyebrow in question.

“Just put it on. I got two weeks to make up for, baby. It started with reuniting, then fucking, and now you in my shirt.”

You try to hold off the wide smile that was threatening to take over your face and put on the shirt, buttoning it to just above your cleavage.

“Yeah? And what’s next?” You ask, watching Roman round the bed toward you.

“Sleep.”

Now in a pair of threadbare silk pajama pants and nothing more, Roman extends his hand to you.

“Shall we?”

“We shall.” You reply, taking his hand, weaving your fingers as he led you to the attic.

i hope you enjoyed even though it was for a different show!! and if you did, pls i’d love some feedback (:::: also let me know if you would possibly want another roman fic bc i have other ideas lol

[kitkat1003]

Tower Tales

6: I’ll be home for Christmas....you can count on me...

AO3 link

@asilcorner

(also recorded myself singing the song in this chapter, listen here!)

Their first Christmas in the tower is on the horizon, and while they try to remain optimistic about it all, it’s hard to be happy when you’re living in a prison.

Yakko, as usual, is shoving down his own sadness with ease.  Wakko watches, with sharp eyes behind the veneer of dull suspicion, as Yakko cheerfully pulls out a Christmas tree from nowhere, has them all put up the ornaments one by one, instead of just throwing stuff on there.  To elongate the process, perhaps, to force them to focus on the action rather than the lack of an escape.

Wakko sees, sometimes, Yakko’s eyes dart to the water tower door.  He hears, at night, Yakko, going to the door and trying to wrench it open.  Some nights Yakko spends hours, sometimes minutes, and sometimes Wakko hears Yakko stop, sit, and cry into his knees.  He’s very quiet, but so is the tower, at night, and they have terribly good hearing for toons.

Yakko’s always smiling in the morning, with breakfast.  Wakko worries.

The first few months after they’d figured out them being locked up wasn’t some prank, they’d thrown anything they could at the door to try and get out.  After they’d ran out of ideas and materials, they’d quit, because it was more depressing to try, hope, be constantly disappointed than just to forget.

Or try to forget.  Wakko guesses that Yakko can’t.

And Dot isn’t exactly thrilled, either.  Wakko thinks she misses the outside more than she lets on.  He vaguely remembers her, on days they felt like wreaking havoc would be boring, taking them on a picnic.  The stock market hadn’t crashed yet, and then it did, so they didn’t have a lot of money.  They did have the ability to steal, but even then they didn’t do it much because it wasn’t fun or right to steal from people who were already going bankrupt.

They’re mischievous, not cruel.  Wakko wonders if the people who locked them in here knew that difference.

“What are we gonna do for Christmas?” he asks one afternoon, during lunch.  “Do you think Santa can get in here with the door locked?”

The question has Dot suck in a sharp breath.  She looks away, upset, and Yakko gives him a look, the one he gives whenever Wakko says something tactless.

Wakko doesn’t have a lot of tact.  He thinks he might’ve eaten it, whatever it is.

“Santa can get in anywhere,” Yakko replies, hands on his hips, confident.  “And we’ve been pretty good, despite the circumstances, so I think we’ll be getting plenty of presents from him.

That’s something that Wakko worries about.  Presents.  What is he even supposed to give his sibs that they can’t just create with toon powers?  Making cards seems lazy, even if he would put all his effort into them.

Yakko, he’s sure, already has an idea.  Because Yakko is smart.  Dot probably has them figured out too.

“I thought you were off Santa’s nice list,” Dot says with a grin.  “You know, for being a hypocrite?”

“I think he’ll find it in his heart to forgive me this year,” Yakko shoots back, hand on his chest, before standing up to put his plate in the sink.  Wakko will lick them clean with his tongue, and Dot will put them in the dishwasher, and one of them will put them away when they’re done depending on when it finishes.  They’re efficient, kind of.

“Should we decorate?” he asks, because so far they only have the tree, and the tower looks a little barren.

Dot’s eyes sparkle at the idea, and Wakko knows he is going to regret asking.

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By the end of the next day, the whole tower is put together, tinsel and twinkling lights that flicker hanging from the walls and ceiling.  Dot puts mistletoe over every doorway they’ve made, and every time they happen to be beneath it, she makes sure they either give her a kiss on the cheek or she gives them one.

Yakko thinks it’s cute, if silly, and Wakko just shrugs it off.

They make a fireplace, with a chimney that they aren’t sure goes all the way through.  Wakko tried climbing it, but halfway up he found himself shot back down, rolling across the floor covered in soot.

He couldn’t even try and argue to not take a bath that day.  Yakko had dunked him in and hadn’t let him out until the black stopped coming off on Yakko’s gloves.

His hopes for Santa visiting are dashed, and he can see Dot deflate too.

“Who needs the guy, anyway,” he hears Yakko mutter, and Wakko wonders.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Dot is very, very sure that this Christmas is going to be great.  She knows it is, despite the fact that they don’t even know if Santa can come see them, despite the fact that they won’t be able to go anywhere to see snow, despite how the world around her wants to tell her it won’t be.

She will spite that because she refuses to let anyone take this season from her.  She and Yakko and Wakko start a food fight in the kitchen when making cookies, and cookie batter splatters all over the wall.  Wakko ducks behind the kitchen island, with her, and holds out his hand.

“Truce?” He’s wearing an army hat, comically large on his head, with the straps hanging down past his shoulders.

If she wasn’t astronomically cute herself, Wakko might give her a run for her money.

“Let’s give our brother a wet new coat,” she agrees, and Yakko becomes the color of cookie batter in seconds.

“Betrayal!  By my own siblings no less!  Is nothing sacred?!” Yakko cries, leaning heavily against the stove with the back of his hand placed dramatically against his forehead.  Dot and Wakko giggle, coming around to face him.

“I don’t know, I think this is a good look for you,” Dot gives him a once over and hides a laugh behind her hand.  Wakko reaches out a finger and swipes a bit of the batter off of Yakko, sticking it in his mouth to taste.

“Mmmm,” he grins, and Yakko gets a mischievous gleam in his eye.

“You know, you’re right Dot!  I ought to share my new looks with you, don’t you think?” he reaches out and sweeps them into a goopy hug before either of them can escape, and all three of them share the wealth of the batter that was supposed to go in the oven.

Dot takes a bath, then Yakko does, and Wakko licks himself and the kitchen clean.  He’d offered to lick them clean, but they politely declined.

“Slobber just isn’t a good look on me,” she’d told him, and Wakko had shrugged and eaten the demolished mixing bowl.

After that, they actually make cookies, because as tasty as the batter was to Wakko, they might want some warm, chocolatey goodness.

They make milk-free ones, too, even though Yakko says they don’t have to, because they want him to have a good time too.

Besides, the cookies taste fine without milk.  Who needs lactose?

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That night, Dot is sitting at her vanity, and she looks in the mirror and is ever aware of the background of cold metal.  The decorations look gorgeous, she put them up, she did everything she could to make the Tower become the season she loves.  

(Well, she technically loves the spring the most, with its gorgeous flowers and sunny days for picnics, but still.  Who doesn’t love winter?  It has Christmas!  And, now, it has Yakko’s birthday!)

But, even with all the decorations and fun, even with the mistletoe and the letters to Santa she can’t send, she feels...

Miserable.

She wants to go outside.  She wants to play in the snow.  She wants to harass street carolers by messing with the lyrics of their songs.  She wants to be out there, with people, in the world, instead of sequestered away.

She sighs, remembering a tune from their previous Christmas.

I’ll be home for Christmas.

You can count on me.

Please have snow, and mistletoe,

And presents under the tree.

Christmas Eve will find me,

Where the love light gleams...

She trails off and sighs again, resting her arms on the vanity, and then her head on her arms.

She doesn’t notice the figure peeking from the third floor, frowning down at her in concern.  Doesn’t notice the lightbulb appear over his head, before he ducks back upstairs.

She just sits there, thinking of the last time she saw a single snowflake.

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Wakko locks up the third floor, a week and a half before Christmas.

When they ask, he tells them it’s a surprise.  Because it will be.  He finally knows what his gift for them, for Christmas, will be, and he can’t let them ruin it, because he really wants to see the pure surprise on their faces when they witness it.

He spends the days up till Christmas Eve working on it, finishing it Christmas Eve morning after breakfast and before lunch.  He’ll have to double check it before showing it to them, but that’s fine.  It’ll be about ten minutes security and then he can show them the magic he has in store.

Dot has swapped out her typical character modeled dress for a long sleeved one, with white fuzz trim on the hem and where the sleeves end.  Yakko has a pair of deer antlers, and keeps calling himself Rudolph, whoever that is.  Yakko says it’s going to be a hit a few years from now.

Wakko just puts on a Santa hat on top of his baseball cap and calls it a day.  Dot calls him lazy, and he shrugs, cause that’s a fair assessment.

Christmas Eve is as fun as it is weird, because they don’t have anything anywhere to do to celebrate, but they cut out little paper snowflakes and angels to hang up and then watch and see how much eggnog Wakko can chug at once.

The answer is around 6 gallons, give or take, because Yakko capped him off there, worried.

“You’re such a mother hen,” Dot snickers, and Wakko tilts his head to the side with a hiccup.

“Isn’t a male chicken a cock?” 

Yakko laughs.

“Goodnight everybody!”

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They meant to stay up, but they’re kids, so they fall asleep eventually.  Wakko, kicking and squirming in bed, because even asleep he can’t stay still, wakes to the sound of frantic whispers.

“Please, just-just for tonight,” Yakko’s voice is quiet and pleading, and when Wakko blinks away the sleep from his eyes he turns into see Yakko, standing in front of Santa, hand gripping Santa’s coat.

And Wakko doesn’t have the time to process the fact that Santa is here, and real, because Yakko keeps talking.

“Please-just take them out, I’ll stay inside.  We-just for the night, just let them see the sky again, some snow, it’s been months, please,” Wakko can’t see Santa’s face, but he does see the shake of his head.  

Yakko’s voice cracks when he speaks.

“Just one ride?  They’ll be good-I-,” Yakko pauses. “Okay, maybe they won’t be, you know them, but I’ll make sure they are, okay?  They-they don’t deserve to be locked in here.  It’s Christmas, so just for tonight-please.”

There’s something so young about Yakko’s voice, then.  Yakko doesn’t sound like a kid, sometimes, and Wakko doesn’t always either, but for him it’s for laughs and for Yakko it’s because he’s tired.

Santa says something, puts a hand on Yakko’s shoulder, and Yakko deflates.  Wakko doesn’t even notice that there are new presents under the tree yet, because he’s too busy trying to be quiet enough to hear.

“Just go,” Yakko’s voice is hard, and quiet, and cold, and sad.  Santa pulls another present from his bag and sets it beneath the tree, and disappears up the chimney.

Wakko watches Yakko tremble in place, for a good two minutes.  He counts the seconds in his head, because it feels like they go so slow.  Yakko finally stops, takes in a deep breath, and sighs.

“Who needs the guy, anyway,” he hears Yakko repeat, and he pretends to snore as Yakko walks back to bed, and buries his face in the pillow.

It takes a long time for him to get back to sleep.

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Wakko wakes up on Christmas to the smell of peppermint hot cocoa at the crack of dawn-at the very least, it feels like the crack of dawn, because it’s earlier than he’s woken up in a while, but the elation of Christmas!!!! has him up in an instant.

There’s a large stack of presents beneath the tree, their names written in pretty cursive of the same handwriting.  Dot is all cheer, and he watches her skip towards the kitchen.  He shuffles over himself.  Yakko sets two cups of hot cocoa on the table, and swirls the top with a large helping of whipped cream, before sprinkling some peppermint on top.

“Merry Christmas, sibs,” he smiles down at them, and it almost makes Wakko forget about the night before.  “My gift to you is your menu of choice.  The whole day, a la carte menu.  Whatever you guys want, I’ll make.  So, what’s for breakfast?”

Wakko’s eyes are blown wide. Yakko has no idea the can of worms he’s opened with that open ended gift.  Or, maybe he does, because he puts on a chef’s coat and hat, and sets up the stove, and a grill, and the oven.

“Bring it on, little brother.  But, uh, let me make Dot’s first?  Something tells me hers will be a biiiiit quicker to make.” Wakko bites his tongue at that request, and Dot prattles off a normal order, because she’s boring.

By the time Yakko is done with Wakko’s order, he’s out of baloney in his slacks.

“I’ll put some more in there later.” He shrugs it off, and Wakko finishes off plate thirty seven with a grin. 

After that, they open up the presents under the tree.  Yakko gets some notebooks, a set of fancy pens, and a very expensive looking leather belt.  He also gets some books, and a perfect replica of a Shakespearian outfit.

He seems happy, but his smile is strained.  Wakko thinks he knows why.  Yakko is getting better at hiding it, though, because he almost didn’t notice Yakko was sad at all.  There’s still a trace, though.

Wakko wonders if he’ll start forgetting to look for that.

Dot gets the latest model of hair straightener and curler, and a wide breadth of makeup products, as well as a poetry book that she regards with half suspicion and half curiosity.  She gets a notebook and pen, too, one with a feather plume sticking out the end.  She uses it to brush underneath her chin, giggling.

Wakko gets some chew toys, some that he doesn’t see himself devouring just yet, and a necklace with a chew on too.  He puts it on and nibbles on it as he opens up the others.  He gets an engineering book, called “Building Without the Math,” and it sounds right up his alley.  He also gets a tool kit, which he places in his gag bag for safe keeping. 

The other items are mostly random toys they hadn’t known existed because they haven’t been outside.  Wakko uses the propeller of a toy plane as a fan, and then spits in it to see the drool droplets hover.

“Eugh,” Dot growls out, looking away, before she sighs and reaches into her dress pocket.  “This leads to my gift.” She hands both Yakko and Wakko a set of flash cards on a ring.

“Coupons?” Yakko flips through them, and then snickers.

“You two can do things that...,” Dot struggles for the world.  “Make me uncomfortable.  Cause you’re boys.” She rolls her eyes. “But you like to do them ‘cause they make you happy, not because they make me annoyed, so these are your passes for that.  Valid for a year.”

There are ones like “Can lick me” and “Allowed to not bathe for 2 weeks” that Wakko thinks are specifically targeted at him but hey, why not?  Baths are dumb, and he licks to show affection!  He sticks the cards in his cap.

Yakko rips one out, hands it to her.

“Thanks, Dottie,” he stresses her least favorite nickname, and she bares her teeth in a very strained smile, snatching the coupon from his hand.  But Yakko laughs, and soon enough, they all are.

“I’m also going to put away the decorations, no extra charge,” she waves a hand.  

“Sounds good to me,” Wakko hops up, fidgeting with his long sleeves.  “I...have to prepare my gift for you.  Can you guys wait on the second floor?”

Yakko and Dot share a look, and then nod.

Wakko vanishes up to the third floor, heart in his throat.

He hopes this works.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

He makes them put blindfolds on, pulling them up the stairs.  Yakko holds Dot’s hand in one and Wakko’s in the other, helping Dot up as Wakko drags him along.

“What’s with the secrecy, Wakko?” He asks, and Wakko bounces in nervous excitement, tail curled around his leg.

“It’s a surprise,” he insists, and sets them up perfectly, on the mark he planned out.  He’d checked, double checked, triple checked.  If this doesn’t work he is going to lose it.

He turns off the lights, and pushes his contraption to the back of the room.

“Wakko, I would like to see sometime today,” Dot calls, and Wakko fidgets.

“Almost done!” The ice is in, okay, now just push the button.

There’s a series of clanks, and then a loud, grinding sound.  Dot and Yakko shiver, and Wakko is glad he used scarves for blindfolds.

There’s a loud FWUMP, and Wakko bounces on his toes.  His feet make indents in the ground.

“Okay, you can look now!”

Dot and Yakko pull down their blindfolds, and Dot gasps.

They’re surrounded by snow.

There’s a model of a crescent moon up by the ceiling, that acts like a lamp, and glow in the dark stars that glimmer pasted up on the ceiling, with constellations they find familiar.  From the machine in the back, snowflakes are shot out, drifting slowly to the ground.

“I, uh, I made snow,” Wakko shrugs, a little self conscious.  “Since we can’t go outside, I thought...,” What is there to say?

Dot takes one step into the snow, like she can’t believe it, and squeals when her feet crunches into it, jumping around.

Yakko is still dumbstruck, until Dot comes around and shoves snow down his pants.  He jumps up comically high with a shriek, ears brushing the ceiling, and when he falls into the snow it makes a perfect imprint of him.

“Oh, that’s it!” he picks up some snow and throws it at her.  Dot throws some back.  Wakko runs into the fray, nailing Dot in the face, and she takes her revenge with deadly precision, before sprinting over to him and tackling him into the ground.

“Thank you thank you thank you thank you!” she shouts so loud that Wakko’s ears ring.

“Merry Christmas?” he tries, and she laughs.

“I knew you were my favorite brother!”

“Hey, I’m offended!” Yakko sprints over, but he’s laughing too, and he drops on top of them, wrapping his arms around them and rolling over in the snow, so they’re on top of him.

He nuzzles Wakko’s nose with his own.

“Nice job, little brother.  Think you got us beat with this gift.” Wakko blushes, looking away.

“Wanna make a snowman?” he responds, because you’re welcome seems too formal.  

“Heck yeah!” Dot jumps up and runs over to a large pile of snow.

“Watch your fucking language!” Yakko barks without heat.

“You’re not the boss of me!”

Wakko giggles, and Yakko sits up.

“C’mon, let’s not let her have all the fun,” Yakko picks him up and sets him off to the side, and Wakko is off like a shot the moment his feet touch the ground.

He thinks about the night before, of Yakko’s words.

Who needs the guy, anyway?

Beneath the fake moonlight, where the snow still sparkles like Wakko remembers, with Dot giggling up a storm as they make the largest snowman they can, with Yakko looking lighter than he has since they got stuck in here, Wakko can’t help but agree.

Who needs Santa anyway?

He can hear the tune from before, in his head, and hums it as they work, smile widening when Dot and Yakko join in.

I’ll be home for Christmas

If only in my dreams!