#snickers pie the one-eyed guy

[duskythesomething]

glad to see everyone's loving my snoodle pics! we had a vet checkup for them both this past weekend- clean bill of health!

the vet said that their care is great AND that they're both confirmed boys, which is what we were hoping for! ♂️🐍

for those who have not met these two before, this is Cheesecake Banana Snake and Snickers Pie the One-eyed Guy!

🧀🍰🍌🐍 - 🥜🍫🥧🐍

[burdenandacrop]

hellooooo!!! do you think you could write something about doing schlatts makeup or playing with his hair when you’re bored or something to that effect? also your writing is so good and i love your page setup, its so cute!!

˗ˏˋ ❝ does pink even suit me ? ❞ ˎˊ˗

this idea is so adorable so THANK you for suggesting it, this is about to be the most fluff ridden thing i've ever written.

summary : fiddling around with your makeup bag, whilst he just lays bedridden; arises a new idea to you. does he think it's stupid at first? yeah, but he'll do just about anything to earn your smile.

⋮ ⌗ ┆established relationship, tooth rotting fluff, schlatt is SUCH a sweetie pie in this one, banter, fem reader.

sitting on the soft carpet, you wandered your hands into your makeup bag that most likely needed some care. there really wasn't much else to do, considering it was such a rainy day in new york. so the only noises you could hear was the roar of thunders and every cat tiktok that schlatt was stalking on his phone. giggling to yourself quietly when you heard something from his phone, probably some poor kitty falling off a counter top and making a big comical noise. your hands continued to rummage through the bag, eventually finding a blush you swore went missing months ago. guess actually going through things helps in that department. pulling it out and eyeing it to see if the packaging got damaged.

schlatt's lingered over to where you were sitting, he was curious as to why you were on the floor of all places. of course, he knew better than to question those arrangements. considering you weren't exactly the most normal person there was, all with love though. he plopped his phone onto his chest, the soft volume of whatever tiktok he was watching still playing through the speaker. "what are you lookin' at hun?" he asks out of the blue, startling you a bit. he hadn't spoken in the last hour so. you whip your head to him with a soft grin, raising up the blush in your palm. his eyebrows raising gently as he eyed the blush in your hand, smiling to himself on how cute you looked in the moment.

"ah, you finally found the- uh. what's it called?" he stammered out, a bit embarrassed that he still hasn't gotten down all the makeup terminology. "blush, well- liquid blush if you want to be technical about it." you reply, looking back down to the blush and twirling it around with your fingers. "hm, makes your cheeks all pinky, right?" he muttered with a quiet chuckle, starting to sit up more upright in the bed as he looked down at you sitting. you softly nod and look back up to him on the bed, "i think i was wearing this on our first date actually." you snicker to yourself as you drop the blush into your lap, now just wanting to look at him. he looked awfully adorable when he wasn't all the way there, just unbrushed hair, fuzzy chops, in one of his old sweatshirts he probably scammed someone on ebay for. you thought so even if he disagreed.

"gonna be so honest with you, the color of your cheeks is not something i remember from that day." he stated, his words waning as he stretched out his arms. he slumped his shoulders back down with a gentle grin, "i just remember how your eyes looked when i called you pretty for the first time." he added on, tucking his lip in with a smile. you playfully scoff at him, waving your hand around with a chuckle. "okay smooth guy, you win." you reply, shaking your head and go back to rummaging through your makeup bag. being pleasantly surprised to notice how many things you mostly just forgot about. schlatt sighed with a smile, kicking his legs off the edge as he stood himself off from the bed. eyeing you as you went through your bag, walking behind you and taking a seat right next to you. even if it was on the floor, he couldn't pass this up.

you side eyed him as you saw him adjust his legs on the floor, grinning to yourself as you noticed how he was trying to cross his legs like you were. he groaned as he finally got the position he wanted, leaning his head down to your shoulder. "going through your makeup?" he muttered, sinking his cheek further into the soft cushion of your sweatshirt. you softly nodded, bringing your hand to gently pat the side of his head. "mhm, figured it was time." you mutter, tangling your fingers into his hair as you knitted his head. his eyes failing to stay open as you continued, he absolutely loved when you did this. even if he never said it out loud, his furrowed eyebrows when you stopped spoke for themselves. "you're so disorganized." he joked, nudging his head closer to you.

"well what do you think i'm doing then, huh?" you scoffed at him, pulling your fingers away from his head. hearing an immediate elongated 'hmph' from his closed lips. he whipped his head back up and rested his hands into his lap, sat like a kid who just got in trouble. his eyes roam to the window, watching as the rain fell on the glass panes so harshly. "i hope the kitties are okay." he mumbled, making you look up from the makeup bag. "those outdoor kitties are just fine, i'm sure they're safe under somewhere dry." you reply, rubbing his shoulder gently as you try to silently convince him to not bring in yet another cat. he just leans back and plops his back onto the carpet, a bit surprised on how nice it felt on his back. groaning and looking up to you, "just so bored."

he was unbelievably dramatic, even bringing his hands up to his face to sulk. you look to the makeup bag, then to him, then right back to the makeup bag. an idea arising in your head, perhaps an idea he wouldn't be the most ecstatic about but, an idea non the less for such a bleak day. he knitted his eyebrows at you, immediately picking up on your signals. "you don't even have to say it, you weirdo." he stammers out, placing his arms behind his head as he laid out on the carpet. "you literally have the prettiest eyelashes, come on." you try and convince him, drooping your shoulders for the dramatic effect. two could play that game. he just shakes his head and groans out, but not surprised you'd come up with an idea like this. it was you after all.

"only to prove i'm comfortable with my- masculinity." he coughed out, rolling his eyes back to you. the answer making you nearly jump in glee, it wasn't such a boring day anymore. your reaction only sending him back further as he snickered to himself, watching as you grabbed your makeup bag by the handle and scooted over to him with the same smile that made him fall for you in the first place. "don't break a nail with that excitement." he added on with a sarcastic undertone, just to rough up the edges a bit. you looked up from unzipping your bag, slowly peeling back the top as you looked at him with playful annoyance. he always needed to get the last word in, seems it was just his character.

he softly snickered under his breath, readjusting his hands underneath his head as he watched you pull out numerous items. in which they all looked incredibly foreign to him. his eyes widened as you palmed a pan with a smile, looking at him as you held up the brush in your other hand. "it's just blush." you groan out with a smile, as you start to lean over him to start applying. now he wasn't so terribly mad at the idea anymore, your face looked really pretty from this angle. seems he's smitten any which way you look at it, really. he closes his eyes in his thinking that the brush was going to go on his eyes, the little notion causing a snicker of your own to be heard. making him shoot his eyes back open in confusion, he looked stupid doing that. didn't he. "what?" he asked, watching as you swarmed yourself with giggles. his cluelessness only adding to the comedic value. taking a deep breath to settle your laughter, sighing with a soft grin.

"you don't need to close your eyes for this- it's your cheeks, silly." you explain as you point at your own cheeks for demonstration, maybe then he'd get it. though it was kind of hard to tell with him. he slowly nodded, still not exactly getting what the point was. he just couldn't fathom looking like an idiot, especially not in front of dear you. "yeah, knew that. just- gotta be prepared with your type of antics." he tries to back himself up, rolling his eyes with a gentle grin. you just shake your head and lean down to sway the brush along his cheeks, being pleasantly surprised on how nice the shade went with his cheeks. the notion being oddly soothing to him, he liked how soft the brush felt on his skin. no wonder you liked to do this to yourself so often. his eyes trailed from your eyes to how your lips were perfectly curled into the sweetest smile, "does pink even suit me?" he muttered, soft enough to surprise you. he was a softie, but something about this felt so much more delicate with his tone. you could definitely get used to it.

you slowly stop the brush from moving along his cheek, softly titling your head as you watched his eyes slowly flutter. "yeah. pink suits you." you reply back, almost trying to mimic his gentle voice. you almost couldn't tell if the rather intense pink on his cheeks was from the blush pan, or from his own rosiness. either way, it was cute. "i'll take you prettying me up every day if it means i get to see you smile like that." he muttered, moving his hand from his head rest to move it to your cheek to gently caress you. the warmth of his thumb roaming, sending you into a serene state. "you do look awfully pretty right now." you snicker out, leaning your head's weight into his palm as he continued. "i got a good makeup artist, real top notch." he replied, snickering along with you. the soft rain in the background perfectly balancing with the softness of the moment in its entirety. "she's gorgeous so- don't tell my girlfriend." he adds on, chuckling out as he dropped his hand to your shoulder with a sigh.

you roll your eyes with a smile, leaning down to kiss him gently. looking down into his eyes as you noticed the soft shine on his lips that appeared, the little fact making you crack another chuckle. "i think i just solidified your makeup look." you smile, wiping your finger on the edges of his lips as the stain would not budge off his skin. he just shook his head and brought his hand back up to your face to gently hold, "what a pro, seriously." he sarcastically coughed out with a smile. watching your eyes for a moment, entranced with how the lighting was falling perfectly on the edges of your face. "c'mere." he muttered, trailing his hand to the nape of your neck before kissing you again. his other hand moving from his head to gently hold the rest of your head as he dove his lips into yours, he couldn't imagine a better rainy day.

author's note : AAA sorry this is so short, but. i think it's adorable, at least in my eyes. i hope you love it !! i really loved the fluff, which is odd considering i'm such an angst ball. i hope to get the ball rolling for the rest of writing amidst all my working days, til then. LAUVE YOU !!!

[wouldntyou-liketoknow]

Just Another Night at Sparky's

(Disclaimer: Ness/WaiterPat and Jack/Cabbie!Cory are not my creations. I gave Jack his name because he wasn't given one in the movie. Now, one of the characters you'll be seeing here technically belongs to me, but I don't really consider him a full fanego.)

(I was already planning to write for Ness and Jack, but after I learned how Mark was originally intended to play the role of that first security guard who died, I decided to adopt that abandoned character. Go here for headcanons and a more thorough explanation.)

(Certain plot-points in this story were inspired by @flawlessstriker and @insane4fandoms! These two are very talented artists, and I'm not sure I would've thought of such clever/funny easter eggs if I hadn't seen some of their own work, so please go check out their blogs and show them some love!)

(Trigger Warnings: food and drink, eating/drinking, implied trauma, mentions of past violence, mentions of blood, strong language. Please let me know if I missed anything.) 

In Ness’ personal experience, the people who dined at Sparky’s could be divided into three sections on a metaphorical pie chart. 

Twenty-four percent of customers were. . .just a little off. Not like that was necessarily a bad thing, mind you. Working in the restaurant business meant having to interact with lots of people each and every day. At some point, you’d learn to pick up on certain things that were odd in the way you couldn’t quite put your finger on (or, perhaps you just knew deep down that you didn’t want to). 

Ness strolled out of the kitchen and into the seating area, expertly balancing a tray on one hand. He approached a couple of bespectacled young women in one corner of the diner. 

Their visits to Sparky’s were a bit sporadic, but they never failed to claim that one booth in the corner that no-one else ever sat at no matter how crowded the joint was. The backpacks they always hauled along were positioned further up the booth’s seat cushions, half-open and nearly overspilling with various books. 

They always used indoor voices, but he could still pick up bits and pieces of their conversation whenever he was near. 

Tonight was no different:

“—he’ll be hungrier than usual,” murmured the one on the left, who boasted short, wavy hair that had been dyed a dark shade of violet. It complimented her shirt, which read ADOPT A FAMILIAR at the top. Pictures of creepy-looking critters were displayed beneath the message, orange-eyed and outlined by blue against the black fabric. “And he’ll need a live one this time.”

“Ooh,” replied the one on the right, who sported a yellow shirt with the screen-printed likeness of some obscure, spikey-haired cartoon character near the collar. A blonde ponytail spilled out from the back of her ball cap. “Who’s it gonna be? The lady whose eyes were found in that jar last month?”

“Nah, she’ll be in some psych ward. Too far-gone to keep on the playing board, y’know?” A sly grin etched its way across Urban Fantasy Nerd’s features. “I was actually wondering if you’d like to choose. Your guy is making the delivery, after all.”

“Ah, that’s right!” Cartoon-Fan snickered in a way that was just a teensy bit unhinged. “I can already see him slipping on some of the blood."

“Third time’s a charm?” Ness asked as he halted, carefully setting this duo’s Usual on the table. 

(Two milkshakes: one chocolate, the other strawberry. Yeah, it was kind of basic, but he wasn’t too much of a judgemental guy. Besides, Sparky’s shakes were a much safer option than the lilac-colored drinks that chicken shack around the corner had started selling. And Ness didn’t just carry that opinion because of his employment. During one of his typical night-walks, he’d passed an alley just in time to see said purple beverage oozing through said chicken shack’s windows. The strong, sugary smell wafting off it had reminded him of prion disease.)

The girls both paused. Though they smiled up at him and offered quiet “Thank-yous,” as they moved their respective, sticker-covered laptops out of the way, visible confusion mixed itself into their gratitude. 

“For the university’s creative writing contest, I mean,” Ness elaborated. “There were articles in the paper about the last two, and I saw your pictures in the list of winners. Congratulations, by the way.”

“. . .Oh,” Urban Fantasy Nerd answered, exchanging careful glances with her friend. “Yeah. Writing. Let’s go with that.”

“If anyone asks, we were also writing here two months ago,” Cartoon-Fan added with a conspiratory wink. “On Friday, between five-thirty and nine o’clock.” 

Ness chuckled, raising one hand to pull an invisible zipper over his lips. “You’ve got it. Enjoy.”

As he retraced his steps to organize some stuff behind the coffee counter, a little voice in the back of his theater-trained head wondered if the girls’ tones had been joking enough. Unlike many times before, he pushed that voice aside.

On one hand, missing person cases did always seem to pop up on the news channels a few days after the two students stopped by to enjoy milkshakes while typing away and occasionally turning the screens of their laptops toward one another. 

On the other hand. . .well, those cases were always located states and states away, typically near more seaside areas. None of them had been anywhere close to Utah. (Not yet, at least.)

Besides, even if those girls were somehow connected to more sinister things than their coursework, they were still very nice. Good tippers, too. Nowhere near the worst patrons Ness had served in his time.

The strange customers almost always seemed to come in pairs.

Like the duo of twenty-somethings from last week. One sported ginger hair and a She/They button pinned to their  jacket. The soot-stains on said jacket had been very obvious, as were the burn scars on their palms, but she’d still been a delight to make smalltalk with.

The other, a pale young man, had been much more quiet, but still friendly. He’d kept peering through the window at (what was presumably) his or his friend’s car, shakily fidgeting with the headphones around his neck, so it’d taken some time for Ness to realize that his eyes were just as reflective as mirrors.

(For the duration of their stay, the jukebox over by the counter had spat out songs that most certainly weren’t on its index cards. Fine, that might’ve caught Ness a bit off-guard at first, but he still knew to appreciate variety.)

Or the two men who’d come in a few months ago, wearing battered navy-blue bomber jackets and thousand-yard-stares. The one with a dyed-red fauxhawk had screamed and practically leapt out of his skin when Ness came over with menus and his usual greeting, but he’d apologized soon enough. After giving Ness a thorough look-over, that is.

His companion, a similarly dark-eyed man with a larynx that could only be found on seasoned musicians, had muttered, “Don’t mind him. We’ve just. . .had a bit of a rough trip.” His voice hadn’t been unkind, but he’d kept glancing at Ness whenever he thought he wasn’t looking. 

Well, perhaps that particular pair had broken the trend a bit. Because a few hours after they’d paid for their food and left, a lone traveler had come in.

His bloodshot eyes—which Ness could’ve sworn were orange instead of brown—had never stopped bulging, never stopped darting this way and that above his rictus of a smile. When he wasn’t speaking, he’d hum or murmur things with a shakiness that was typically found in rabid dogs.

He’d asked for way more coffee refills than could ever be considered healthy, as well as if Ness had seen anyone fitting the descriptions of Red-Haired-Screamer and Wary-Possible-Musician. Ness, following his instincts, had said no, to which the loner started simply shaking his head and grinning with a mouthful of teeth that looked a smidge too sharp.

Or the scruffy man who'd started coming in for breakfast every other week with his young sister in tow. He was living proof that you could recognize someone without officially knowing them. After all, it was pretty damn easy for Ness to remember almost making eye-contact with him, barely moving out of reach of his flashlight’s beam in time, and then having the seconds feel like hours as he watched him shake his head and mutter to himself about seeing things. 

It wasn’t like that’d been Ness’ first little midnight rendezvous around Freddy Fazbear’s Pizzaria. Just like how that particular man wasn’t the first security guard who’d gotten dangerously close to spotting him during his unofficial, self-driven investigations.

For the record, Ness knew that said investigations weren’t legal—especially not if you counted some of the things he’d. . .borrowed from the old animatronic jamboree restaurant—but he’d made his peace with that.

He hadn’t been sneaking around there to deal drugs or partake in any himself.

He wasn’t exactly chasing the adrenaline that always came with an evening full of ducking around corners and trying to ignore how loud his shoes sounded against linoleum floors when he rushed to find anything he could feasibly hide behind, underneath, or inside of.

He never meant any harm when it came to snooping.

It was just a simple case of having a little too much curiosity.

Thankfully, Security Guard #13 still had yet to show up at Ness’ place with some accompanying cops, so it seemed he didn’t recognize Ness as anything other than a humble waiter. (Or, if he did actually recognize Ness from that night, then he was miraculously chill enough to not bring it up and get him in trouble.)

The very first time they’d paid Sparky’s a visit, it would’ve been impossible to ignore the distinct smell that had been wafting off of Security Guard #13. It’d had a bite to it; like machine oil mixed with something much more. . .organic.

From that bleak look Ness had seen in his eyes, Security Guard #13 was most certainly NOT what anyone could call unbothered, but he was still polite. Plus, Kid Sister was the type who just deserved all the crayons in the world, what with the little masterpieces she’d decorated the paper menus with.

So, yeah. There was a genuine difference between oddball customers and customers that made you lose some of your faith in humanity. 

People who asked for trout to be blended into their yogurt parfait or for their donuts to be topped with slices of pickles that had gathered fuzz from their mysterious journeys at the back of the refrigerator were still easier to handle than people who threw temper tantrums because they didn’t get a refill in under thirty seconds. 

Back to the pie-chart—another forty-six percent of customers were perfectly decent and standard.

Plenty of the locals had a soft spot for this joint; Ness had lost count of all the times he’d been told that the pancakes served here were some of the best on planet Earth. Yeah, praise like that technically wasn’t directed at him, but the cooks were great people to work with, so it still made him happy to relay said praise to them. 

He’d be lying if he said it wasn’t awkward for someone to confusedly ask if they’d already seen him working at the bar on the other side of town. Even so, that once-a-month occurrence always left him amused rather than annoyed. If anything, it attested to that particular customer’s observation skills. 

Sure, he and Sans were identical twins—the fact that their uncle had mixed them up on several different occasions when they were little was still a running joke in the family. But it’d been years since Sans had decided to remedy that via a skeleton face-mask and a dark blue leather jacket, and he’d made a habit to don both aforementioned garments each day ever since then. (Ness was still in partial disbelief that the manager at Grillby’s was cool enough to let Sans wear them over his uniform.)

Just as many of Sans’ customers apparently ended up mistaking him for Ness. Sans got a nice little kick out of that, of course. He hadn’t just been born with a comedic heart—it truly seemed every bone in his body was a funny one. Some people would argue that he just delivered puns upon more puns upon even more puns, but Ness knew his brother better than that. 

After all, Sans had been the one to train him to deal with the last category of customers: the thirty percent of entitled neanderthals who thought treating staff as less than human would somehow magically make their miserable lives more interesting. 

“Food work is all about balance,” Sans had explained sometime after he and Ness had grown tall enough to take plates and cups from a counter without having to stand on their tip-toes. “You’ve gotta be nice and still let people know that you won’t take their crap. If they’re civil, then you’re helpful. But if they’re rude. . .” Sans had paused, a mischievous glint in his eyes, “. . .then you have a little fun.” 

Ness had always been a pretty fast learner. It’d taken a week or so of practice, yeah, but with his twin’s help, he’d developed a tongue sharp enough to rival any butcher knife in the kitchen.

“You use a lot of big words for a waiter,” snorted a wannabe business bigshot with a wrinkled clip-on tie and a way, waaaaaay over-gelled hairdo that spoke volumes of desperation. 

Ness, who’d been explaining the differences between certain ingredients and flavor-enhancing chemicals because Hair Gel’s girlfriend had asked a fair question about the smoothies on the menu, barely batted an eyelid when he came back with, “And you smell a lot like hotdog water for someone who apparently doesn’t work with food.”

“This was the WORST thing I’ve ever put in my mouth!” Exclaimed a woman with an unidentifiable crust caked around the corners of her eyes and an ill-fitting shirt that was advertising some essential oil brand.

“I highly doubt that,” Ness mentioned, raising an eyebrow as he took the plate (which was suspiciously much emptier than when he’d first brought it out) from her table, “but whatever you say. . .”

“Oh! Thank you!” A tiny boy who couldn’t have been older than seven chirped, bouncing in his seat when Ness placed a sundae down in front of him.

Ness had been about to reply, but the boy’s mother—a lady who was trying very hard to look posh (but not succeeding very well due her asymmetrical haircut, as well as all the little green marks around the jewelry she was practically drowning in)—cut him off. 

“You don’t need to thank him, sweetheart,” she’d instructed, reaching across the table to corral her son. “That’s his job.”

That one had, admittedly, forced Ness to take a deep breath and appeal to his higher self for a few seconds.  Despite this, he’d still made sure to look that Karen dead in the eyes when he observed, “I’m not sure what your problem is, ma’am. But it must be hard for you to pronounce.”

(At least the boy didn’t seem to be too influenced; his bright eyes were nothing but apologetic when Ness came back with the check.)

The relative silence was shattered by the jingling call of that little bell suspended over the front entrance. Ness blinked, his train of thought screeching to a halt. He glanced over in the door’s direction, grinning at a familiar sight. 

Another regular; one that Ness got to have actual conversations with on nights like tonight. 

Mason glanced around at all the empty tables, brushing back his nearly shoulder-length raven hair and quickly getting the hint that he could just seat himself.

A golden retriever trotted beside him, connected to a leash in his hand via a pink vest that’d been fastened around her shoulders and belly. It was adorned by black velcro straps that read THERAPY DOG in a bold white font. The forest-green sherpa hoodie Mason always seemed to wear was only about half as fluffy as her fur.

Ness ducked into the kitchen. No more than three seconds had passed before the last cook on duty for tonight—a lanky blonde guy who was perhaps the most unapologetically flamboyant foodie you could ever have the honor of knowing—called, “Order Up! Your buddies’ Usuals, fresh from that babbling kiddie pool of oil.”

Dylan set a triad of dishes onto a waiting platter: the first held a stack of waffles (much like Sparky’s pancakes, their recipe was a secret that his very own grandmother had entrusted him with) and fried chicken tenders. The second supported a small mound of bacon. The third was adorned by a couple club sandwiches with a side of mozzarella sticks.  

“Thanks, man. Right on time,” Ness called back as he hefted the platter up, balancing it on the anterior region of his forearm like he'd been taught so long ago, and traipsed back out. The door swung to and fro behind him as he headed over to Booth Five. 

Though she wasn’t actually in the booth, Checkers was still right by her owner’s side, sitting in a way that could almost remind you of those lion statues guarding the entrance to a Chinese temple. She spotted Ness before Mason did. Her ears perked up, tail starting to wag. Her tongue lapped in and out of her mouth like a party favor as she smiled in that way only dogs could.

Mason, who’d been gazing through the window and fidgeting with his hoodie’s drawstrings, ever-so-slightly flinched as Ness began setting the plates down on the table with a chorus of small clunks. He blinked at the food, as if suddenly remembering the weekly tradition he’d made here.

“How do you always do that?” Mason asked as he turned his head toward Ness, a small smile etching its way across his features. 

“Magic,” Ness answered. “Careful, it’s hot.”

He carried the now empty tray back over to the counter. There, his hands became a blur as he snatched up the coffee pot and produced a trio of mugs. After stirring memorized amounts of cream and sugar into the fresh brew, he returned to the table, setting two of the beverages beside the plates.

Ness hovered, his own cup of smoldering caffeine in hand, and glanced around the restaurant. Aside from Mason and those two writers in the corner (who, as Ness had learned, took generous amounts of time with the shakes they always ordered), Sparky’s was empty tonight. 

With that in mind, Ness dragged a chair away from one of the other tables, positioning it at the end of the booth. Yeah, he could’ve just sat on the opposite side of Mason, but that part of the booth was typically reserved for another one of his friends.

Subtle relief washed over Ness’ knees as he took a seat; he’d been standing and walking pretty much all day.

Mason plucked a strip of bacon from one of the plates, checking to make sure that it was nice and warm without threatening to burn the palette. He then lightly tossed it over to Checkers, who snapped it out of the air almost like a frog catching flies. She lowered her head as the treat crunched between her teeth.

“How’ve things been?” Ness inquired, taking a sip of his coffee. “The theater’s gotten busy, yeah?”

Mason nodded as he took a fork and knife into his hands, cutting a piece off of one of the waffles and dipping it into the complimentary cup of syrup. “Yeah, it really has. Feels like whenever one movie runs its course and is taken off our roster, two more pop up in its place. Especially now that Scream 3 is finally on the market."

“. . .Oh, that’s right! It is!” Ness ever-so-slightly jumped in his seat. After enjoying the first two movies, he’d been meaning to give the latest installment a look. But so far, whether it was Sparky’s being slammed on the more favorable days or Royal Edgar’s Cinema being too crowded for his liking, things had just kept getting in the way.

Acting on instinct, Ness fished a pencil from one of his waist-apron’s pockets. At first, said pencil might not have seemed like anything special. But then you saw Fabio: a priceless treasure shaped like a rubber chicken’s head covering up the eraser. Ness started spinning the pencil between his fingers, causing Fabio to wiggle as though it was alive.

“Have you seen it already? Is it good? I have so many ideas about where the story could pick up from—”

“Hey, hey. Slow down," Mason remarked with some clear exasperation. “I haven't, but I am scheduled to project its last showing sometime next week. . .” He took a bite out of one of the chicken tenders, humming thoughtfully as he chewed. He must’ve seen the glint in Ness’ eyes, because he offered a sly smirk and lowered his voice as he continued.

“Tell you what: I’ll find a way to sneak you into the projection booth. That way, we can check it out together when the day comes.” 

“Really? You’d do that for me?” Ness asked, jokingly clutching his mug in both hands and bringing it close to his heart. 

“Sure. It’s really not too different from the customers smuggling their own snacks past the ticket desk,” Mason shrugged, though his mischievous demeanor briefly turned deadpan. “So long as you don’t play detective the entire time. My boss would rip me a new one if I just paused the movie every five minutes to let you brainstorm and talk.”

Ness scoffed, rolling his eyes. “It wouldn’t be every five minutes.”

Mason raised an eyebrow. “You’re right; it’d probably be every two minutes.” He forked up another bite of the waffles, firmly ignoring the offended waiter noises. 

“Oh, and don’t try to guilt-trip me out of my food, either. I’ve already got one moocher to deal with.” Mason scratched Checkers’ ears, to which she responded via tilting her head to the side, an undeniable trace of smugness in the warmth of her amber eyes.

“You drive a hard bargain,” Ness pronounced, his voice dripping with much more sarcasm than usual, “but fine. I can work with that.” 

“Uh-huh. You’d better,” Mason snorted, reaching over to shake hands with his friend as though the two of them were lawyers who’d just settled on some sleazy business arrangement. 

Mason was a complex person. Everyone had issues, and he was no exception to that. Not like he was at all open about said issues, but once you got to know him, you’d start to see them. (Plus, that just seemed a lot nicer than describing him as a swarm of issues shaped like a man.) He was the type to constantly shift in his seat, to give most people the side-eye, to get lost in his thoughts and grimace at nothing until he snapped himself out of it. 

At least he seemed content working at the theater. Even with the spark of horror that never seemed to leave his eyes, Mason was clearly a creative bastard. Sometimes he’d bring notebooks in and take breaks from his meal to fill their pages with paragraphs or sketches. He really did seem to have the potential for acting, maybe even directing. If his critiques and commentary on the movies he had to watch from the projection booth were anything to go by, then the projects he could possibly work on would be nothing short of awesome. 

He’d actually been one of Freddy’s past security guards. Ironically enough, he and Ness hadn’t met there. Not that Ness minded, since A. if that’d been the case, there probably would’ve been way more confused screaming than there usually was at Sparky’s, and B. considering the fact that Mason’s employment had apparently lasted a whopping one singular night. . . 

Ness still didn’t know the full story, and he could tell pressing Mason for info wouldn’t end well. But with the few snippets Jack had carefully enlightened him with. . .well—

Speak of the devil. 

The front door’s bell only had about half a second to chime yet again, almost drowned out by rapid footsteps.

“You’re late,” Ness jokingly chastised as he caught dark brown skin and black hair in his peripheral vision. He shifted in his chair, moving his legs to make some room under the table as another one of his regular-friends hurried over to claim Booth Five’s empty seat. 

“Yeah, yeah. Sue me,” Jack retorted, instantly propping his elbows on the table to knead at his forehead. It took a few long seconds for him to notice how one of his favorite dishes had apparently been waiting for him. He squinted at the food, then at Ness. “. . .I wasn’t sure I’d even be able to make it tonight?”

“And yet, here you are,” Ness replied, the definition of coy with how his shoulders popped up and down again. 

Jack might’ve wanted to ask more questions, but Mason cut him off. “Look, I don’t get it either. He doesn’t know, but he just knows.”

Jack considered this, then tilted his head to convey the type of acceptance that only came when you couldn’t really question things that probably should be questioned because you already had too many things to focus on. 

“Thanks, dude,” he murmured, nodding to Ness as he plucked one of the mozzarella sticks from his plate.

Ness nodded back, taking a few more gulps of coffee. “No problem.”

Jack paused mid-bite, eyes darting over to the brew that’d been poured for him. He scrutinized it, then raised the mug up and started chugging like a champ. 

The display made Ness glad that he’d taken the time to experiment with coffee so long ago. There was no doubting how he could now calculate exactly how much time it took for coffee to go cold. Yeah, this particular serving had been fresh out of the pot a few minutes ago, but by now it had to be at optimal temperature. Neither scalding nor tepid: just nice and warm. 

After about a moment, Jack pulled the now empty mug away from his face, taking a deep breath as he set it back down on the table.

“Rough day?” Ness inquired, specific parts of his brain starting to tick. 

Something seemed off. 

It wasn’t like he had any room to talk about slight bean juice addictions. And he certainly couldn’t blame Jack for a dependency (especially since he’d even shown some undeniable intrigue at Ness’ argument that coffee was a type of soup). Sure, Jack wasn’t narcoleptic, but when a day-and-night operating cabbie didn’t have access to some perks, things just wouldn’t go well for him or his passengers. 

But whenever Jack popped in for a bite and a chat, it was easy to assume that he’d be heading home and going to bed right after his meal. Right now, however, his demeanor was anything but tired. His shoulders were rigid. His eyes were more or less threatening to pop right out of their sockets. In fact, he almost seemed to be weighing the options of never sleeping again. 

Jack chewed his lip as he glanced in the waiter’s direction. He slowly nodded. “. . .You could say that.”

Ness exchanged glances with Mason, who had obviously seen the signs for himself. As did Checkers, since she quietly maneuvered around Ness’ chair to rest her head on Jack’s lap, peering up at him with an almost human-like air of understanding. Jack didn’t hesitate to pet the shiny fur along the dog’s neck, to which her tail started wagging but she otherwise remained still.

“What happened?” Mason asked, sitting up a little straighter. “If the vibes you’re giving off got her attention, then it must be something serious.”

Jack grimaced, closing his eyes with what seemed to be more force than necessary, taking a few long seconds to rub at their lids. 

“Did you see any rabbit-shaped things out by the dumpster? I think they only come around once a month or so, but I always feel strange if I look at them.” The words glided out of Ness’ mouth and into the air before he could think. 

Self-induced humiliation wrapped its awful, clammy hands around his ribcage as two confused glances were aimed in his direction.

“. . .What?” Jack and Mason blurted in near-perfect unison.

“What?” Ness echoed, blinking as his voice instantaneously grew a smidge louder than before. He rushed to plaster his typical, happy-go-lucky demeanor back onto his face, hoping that pretending he hadn’t spoken at all would convince his friends that he actually hadn’t. 

Not only did his latest sentence sound weird as all hell, but it’d also been downplayed as all hell. Because when Ness had said strange, what he’d really meant was the pounding, churning, pummeling agony that should only ever be present in your stomach after you’ve accidentally swallowed a few dozen live rats that just so happen to be whacked out on cocaine for whatever godforsaken reason. 

And while he wasn’t a perfect angel, Ness would never wish that particular pain on anyone else. So, the fewer people who knew about the floppy-eared cryptids (which Ness could’ve sworn looked like they’d been covered in mucus) that were apparently engrossed in  gang warfare with the local raccoons, the better. 

“Ah, did you get a bad passenger today?” Ness coughed. Jack had to deal with as many entitled idiots as Ness, if not even more. Hell, taking turns venting about that stuff was something they’d initially bonded over.

He peered through the window next to the booth—Jack’s cab was parked close enough to see that there wasn’t anything to indicate an accident. Not a life-threateningly serious one, at least. 

“Not exactly,” Jack replied, following his gaze. Where Ness’ eyes were curious, Jack’s were currently anxious and mistrusting. That was another red flag: Jack may not have treated his taxi like it was his baby, but he still took pretty good care of it. “Just a few more weirdos.” 

Mason hummed, tilting his head. “How weird specifically?” He’d heard plenty of Jack’s tales from the road; as he called on Jack for rides somewhat often, he’d even ended up being part of those tales. 

Jack knitted his brows, fidgeted in place. “You don't want to know."

“. . .Then why did you make it sound so damn vague?” Mason retorted, now dripping with incredulousness. “The less specific details are, then the more they’re gonna nag at someone’s brain.”

“He’s got a point,” Ness agreed, lightly tapping Fabio’s pencil against his mug. 

“Like that’s my fault,” Jack snorted. “Most people wouldn’t believe me if I told them.”

Ness offered an encouraging smile. “Good thing we’re not most people, then.”

Mason nodded. “Damn right. C’mon, Jack; are you really saying something could top the crackhead I had to share the backseat with last month?” 

“Yes, I am,” Jack whisper-shouted through gritted teeth, “because it was a bear!” 

Silence (save for the soft click-clack of keyboards from the corner of the diner, that is).

Jack pursed his lips, looking equal parts exasperated and worried. He sighed yet again, reaching up to press his fingers against his temples.

“. . .What kind of bear was it?” Ness eventually tried. 

Mason, who’d previously been squinting while his mouth opened and closed with no words coming out, turned his head to face Ness with such speed and force that he might’ve actually given himself whiplash. “That’s the first thing you focus on?!”

Ness made a shaky lame gesture. “It’s a fair question! What’re you focusing on?” (He wasn’t wrong. There was a lot of variety among bears, after all. And a bear that lived in the woods and had huge claws and could outeat, outrun, outswim, and probably even outdrink the average person would be a lot more to handle than one of the bears that had attended the latest local Pride parade.) 

“Oh, I don’t know. Maybe the fact that you,” Mason declared, returning his attention to Jack, “look significantly less mauled than most people who get close to bears! Seriously, how is your face still connected to your skull?!” 

“I didn’t mea—!” Jack was about to go on the defensive, but stopped short. “What, were you expecting me to get ripped to shreds tonight? So damn sorry if I didn’t get the memo!”

“No! Of course not!” Mason contended. “Look, you can’t just say you had a run-in with a bear and leave it at that!”

Jack threw his hands up. “Well, I told you you didn’t want to know!”

“How the hell can we not NEED to know now?” Ness pointed out. Though he was growing just as confused as Mason, he tried to keep his voice even.

Jack gave him an exhausted look before craning his neck to rest his head against the booth’s seat, staring at the ceiling. 

“It was a huge robot,” he finally clarified. “Looked like it’d been at the bottom of a scrap heap for years; I’d guess it was older than my dad. But its eye glowed blue like the machines inside it were still working. It made the car shake—I’m honestly surprised the back tires never gave out. And God damn, the smell. . .rust and blood and mucus, I swear!”

Now it was Mason’s turn to go rigid. A tidal wave of emotion seemed to sweep through his features; first surprise, then recognition, and then dread. He placed a hand on the nearest corner of the table as if to steady himself. 

“It was wearing a black top hat and bowtie, wasn’t it?” He murmured. It sounded much more like a statement than a question, and the way his tone had become so hollow didn’t help.

Jack lowered his head, clearly unsure whether or not to make eye-contact as he nodded. 

“Sounds like the way Freddy was designed. . .” Ness mused without quite meaning to. 

Memories of the huge sign that had been built to loom over the old pizzeria’s front entrance flooded into his head. The blinking lights that bordered the establishment’s title and seemed to chase each other around and around and around. The life-sized cutout of the one and only Freddy Fazbear himself, using one paw to adjust his bowtie and the other to wave, seemingly beckoning customers to wander inside. 

Those memories dissolved as Ness winced and glanced back at Mason, who was now reaching up with a shaking hand to grasp at his hoodie’s collar, tugging it to cover up the top of an old, deep scar that dragged along the skin of his neck. Ness shuffled in his seat, trying not to stare at how quickly the color drained from his friend’s face. 

Checkers was back by Mason’s side in an instant, bracing her paws against the seat as she licked at his face. Mason blinked, a huge shudder rippling through his chest as he hugged his pet.

A few minutes dragged by, feeling like an hour apiece and jeering at the trio as they went.

“So.” Mason finally announced, still keeping his gentle-yet-obviously-desperate hold on Checkers. “Let me get this straight: that. . .that thing got into your cab like it paid rent just a few hours ago?” 

Jack pursed his lips, nodding again. “There was a kid with it, too. A little girl. She didn’t even seem scared at all. The whole ride, she was smiling and hugging the bear’s arm—”

“Wait, you actually drove it somewhere?!” Mason demanded.

Jack sputtered. “What other choice did I have?!”

“I mean, that’s kind of literally his job,” Ness mentioned. 

True, he was grappling with the fact that he and his friends had apparently been transported into some cheap bizzarofiction novel. And yet, somehow, this wasn’t even the craziest story that’d been relayed to him from a customer. He peered down at Fabio as though it was about to start contributing to this conversation. “Where did you take them?”

Jack raised an eyebrow at Ness (which he guessed couldn’t be helped. Ness already had an idea, but it was rude to just assume, wasn’t it?). “Where else? That old pizza joint you’ve been trying to write an encyclopedia on.”

Mason was about to say something else, but stopped short in favor of turning his shock toward Ness.

Ness raised his hands in a defensive gesture. “Look, I know you don’t like that place, but just remember that I don’t question what you do with your free-time.”

“That’s right. And even if you did, you wouldn’t have to, because I don’t spend my free-time poking around the fourth Circle of Hell!” Mason snarked. 

“I won’t lie and say it’s not creepy,” Ness admitted, unable to stop a chill from racing down his spine at the memory of the restaurant’s grimy wall posters, the draft that always seemed to be in the air over there, the disturbingly sour tang of what he’d hoped was just ancient pizza sauce, “but that still seems pretty harsh.”

Mason gawked, fragments of words leaking through his teeth.

“If we’re looking at the bigger picture,” Jack coughed, probably attempting to steer Mason away from a potential stroke, “then nothing really happened tonight. The bear didn’t even make a peep the whole time. I didn’t get hurt, and that girl didn’t get hurt. She even left a handful of change when we got to the restaurant.”

Ness squinted and tilted his head at that. As far as he knew, the rules Jack applied to his cab were pretty lax and basic, but he’d always been firm on never taking money from lone child passengers.

Then again, if the child passenger in question was traveling with a huge robotic animal that apparently had enough sentience to use a taxi in the first place, it was probably best to just go along with whatever happened and leave the sanity-questioning session for later.

Jack fiddled with the zipper on his jacket. “. . .That actually wasn’t even the worst part of tonight’s shift.”

Mason leaned back against the leather seat, looking very much lightheaded. His eyes bulged from their sockets as he furiously motioned for his friend to elaborate. 

Jack hesitated before explaining, “Well, once the girl and the bear were out, I decided to just call it a day. After I got far enough away from the pizzeria, I parked by one of the downtown curbs and switched the car’s sign to Off Duty. I was trying to get a catnap in—”

“It’s a miracle you could even try to sleep after that damn bear basically held you hostage,” Mason interjected.

“—when someone knocked on the window. I told ‘em to read the sign and come find me later, but they opened up the door and got in anyway. So, I was about to kick them out and. . .” Jack trailed off, shaking his shoulders as though a few dozen cockroaches had spontaneously taken up nest in his jacket.  

“And. . .?” Ness echoed, the curiosity-concern cocktail in his mind getting stronger.

“And there was some tiny doll in my passenger seat,” Jack concluded. “Looked creepy as hell.”

Ness hummed in consideration. “Sounds like it could just be a weird prank? The teens in that area are always following strange trends.”

Jack nervously shook his head. “I couldn’t see anyone outside the cab. It only took a few seconds for me to look; there’s no way anyone could move fast enough to hide after they put the doll in.”

“A tiny doll. . ?” Mason’s brow furrowed in thought for a couple seconds, then promptly returned to its collision course for Mars. He leaned over the table. “Did it have bug-eyes and buck teeth? Was it wearing one of those stupid propeller hats and holding a red-and-yellow striped balloon?”

Jack’s face contorted in confusion as he nodded. “. . .That pretty much sums it up.”

Though his expression was still grim, Mason’s fear quickly metamorphosed into some good ol’ fashioned aggravation. “That’s the bastard,” he seethed, knuckles turning white. 

Jack blinked, perplexity slowly overtaking his latest case of heebie-jeebies. “Wait, you’ve seen that thing before?”

“I have, unfortunately.” Mason grimaced. An odd type of adrenaline etched its way across his face. “Is it still in the cab?”

Jack nodded again. “I didn’t want to risk touching it.”The words were barely out of his mouth when Mason rose from the booth and stalked outside through Sparky’s front entrance. Checkers trotted after him, the tiredness of an actual nurse flickering in her eyes.

Ness and Jack basically had frontrow seats to observe their friend approaching Jack’s cab, ripping the passenger-side door open and fishing something out before slamming it closed again.

With that, Mason raced to the edge of the parking lot and proceeded to dropkick what had to be the mysterious balloon-toting doll out of sight.

Despite his shock, part of Ness still felt relieved that Mason hadn’t simply deposited it into the dumpster. Just in case those awful rabbit-looking things happened to be paying a visit tonight. . .

@sammys-magical-au @that-bat @th3w00ds @bee-the-matpat-simp @touyubesposts @crazy-obsessed-enby @i-used-to-wear-the-fedora @holyawesomestitches @s-e-v-e-n-24 @sotogalmo @ciphershadow @deethedustyassdumbass @theechoingmadness @its-a-goddamn-ass-race @zam-witch @box-goat @redd-byrd @icantmakeupagoodname @pleasedontmind-the-emerald @transparentghosty @vegaslvrr @itzqueers-blog @wannabeavocaloidmystery @shivr0ygf @ciara-clycone @not-made-of-actual-rye @m0on-shro0m @imafruitbowl @azure-trash @il0v3mus1cals @v1r-x @kafkaisnotdead @junaslagoon @alicethemenace @ilovenikkisixx @m00nlight-mexican @w0rd3855 @head-without-a-fucking-brain. @unkn0wn-nys @not-made-of-actual-rye @101k-t101 @theonlykala @dividel @riff-is-on-a-fucking-crisis @roselily2006 @max-afton @abe-the-detective-blog @floating-above-sea-level @madhare051

[ariadosanon]

[A video is attached. The image of a smirking Rotom sits in the corner of the recording. Nictoria’s phone has been hijacked again… it floats just behind her, filming out of sight.

Nictoria is standing by a battlefield, watching two Pokémon from the sidelines. A Lotad faces off against a Jolteon, the former sparking with anticipation. Nictoria’s arms are crossed as she watches, her Pinsir standing right by her side in a similar pose.

“Otto,” She called out to one of the battlers, the camera discreetly turning to face the Lotad’s owner. The young boy looks up at his teacher, fiddling with his green sweatband.

“You remember your type advantages?” She asked, placing one hand on her hip expectantly. “Happy is an electric type. He’ll wipe the floor with PIE GUY.” She pointed out, gesturing to the Lotad in question, who was sporting a matching red band around his leafy cap. Otto smiled, shaking his head at his teacher. “I know what I’m doing, Mrs Nicky.” He promised, “Today’s lesson gave me all sorts of ideas!”

Nictoria snorted, shaking her head at the boy. “Right. I shouldn’t question your judgment then.” She took a few steps back, holding her hand up so both battlers could see.

“This battle will go until the Pokémon on one side can no longer fight. The use of potions, elixirs, and all other trainer operated enhancements is banned.” She looked between her two students, making sure they were listening.

“”Right!””

“Begin.”

Otto, the revealed owner of PIE GUY immediately made the first move. “PIE GUY! Tickle Happy!”

The Lotad nodded, scuttling forwards and launching itself at the Jolteon. It landed on the other Pokémon’s back, immediately waving its nubs in its fur wildly. Happy snickered for a moment, then began to laugh, rolling around in attempts to get PIE GUY off his back.

“What— hey Otto that’s no fair!— You can’t just tickle him! That’s not a real move”

Nictoria shook her head.

“It’s a legal move, Miley.” She informed the girl.

“What?! No way!” She cried out, pulling on her twin braids in dismay.

“Well Okay— then Happy— Use Thunder!” She ordered, pointing at the sky dramatically.

Happy the Jolteon began to crackle with electricity, the sky right above the Pokémon darkening to reveal a small, black cloud. Nictoria let out an audible ‘huh.’ Clearly surprised at the introduction of such a high powered move to the battlefield.

“PIE GUY, Protect!”

The Lotad let out a chirp, hunkering down on Happy’s fur and surrounding itself with a thin, glistening layer of energy. A huge thunderbolt crashed down from the sky onto the two Pokémon, illuminating the camera with yellow light. Nictoria’s Pinsir visibly flinched, the pinchers on its head latching and unlatching.

“Down, Pinsir.” The woman hissed under her breath, side eying her Pokémon.

When the electricity had visibly cleared, PIE GUY was unscathed.

“Lo-tad.” He announced, his leafy cap held high in pride. Jolteon’s owner, Miley, gasped again, still pulling on her braids in frustration. “No way no WAY! Protect really does prevent all damage!”

“Well at least SOMEONE has been listening to my lectures.” Nictoria shouted back at the battlefield, following up with a loud ‘HAH’ as PIE GUY himself nodded at her in confirmation.

“Now PIE GUY, use Water Pulse, just like we practiced!”

“Tad!” The Lotad hopped into the air, almost majestically despite his stumpy little legs. PIE GUY did a brief spin midair, sending a ring like blast of water and air from his mouth flying at Jolteon.

“Oh no— Happy, dodge! Don’t let it hit you!” Miley shouted to her Pokémon, clearly resisting the urge to run on the field herself.

The Jolteon didn’t seem to listen to her, instead trying to jump through the middle of the move, miscalculating the force of the air in the center. Happy was thrown back slightly, but didn’t take that much visible damage.

“Right— Water isn’t very effective against electric, like how electric is super effective against water…!” Miley said aloud, breathing a soft sigh of relief.

Otto laughed, pointing at Happy dramatically. “Don’t be so sure of yourself Miley! My plan is already working!”

“What’re you—…!” Happy the Jolteon stumbled over his own paws listlessly, head swaying back and forth like a boat in uncomfortable waters.

“Eeee-ooooon, eeee-onnnn~” it dumbly murmured, clearly confused.

Nictoria clapped her hands, grinning wide. “Very nice gamble there, Otto!” She praised, nodding at the young boy in acknowledgement of his strategy.

“I’m not done yet, PIE GUY, start hitting him with Mega Drain!”

Miley began to panic as PIE GUY began to Sap Happy’s energy, easily dodging the confused Pokémon’s stumbling attacks.

“Happy, focus! Use Thunder again!”

The Jolteon tried to obey, but the move refused to land, the immense charge up time leaving too many openings for PIE GUY to dodge and confuse his enemy yet again.

In a matter of seconds, Happy suddenly tripped, face planting on the battlefield and knocking himself out. The young Jolteon groaned in exhaustion, ears flopping to the side as it lay flat on the ground.

“Jolteon is unable to battle! Which makes Otto the winner!” Nictoria announced.

“But— we didn’t get to do our finishing move!” Otto protested, walking forwards and picking up his Lotad.

“As lucky as you were for that battle, and you’re still not happy with how it went?” Nictoria asked, grinning as she playfully rustled the kid’s hair. “Don’t even worry about it. You’ll get lots of chances to show off your new move if you keep battling like that.” She promised.

That was enough for Otto, it seemed. The boy nodded, scampering off with his Lotad and talking to it about their ‘big move.’

The camera panned to Miley, who was clearly holding back tears of frustration. Nictoria made a motion to her Pinsir, telling it without words to stay put. The Pokémon obeyed, sitting down where it was previously standing. She approached her student, squatting down beside her and her Jolteon.

“Don’t beat yourself up about this Miley.” She told the girl, pulling a revival herb from one of her many pockets. She opened up the Jolteon’s mouth, placing the bundled plant inside and gently making it chew.

“But, this is the third battle I’ve lost this week.” Miley said softly, looking down at her Jolteon, tears still welling in her eyes.

“Happy won’t listen to me anymore— Not since he evolved.” She hiccuped, watching as the Pokémon slowly stirred, sitting up weakly as it reluctantly swallowed the bitter herb.

“It’s like he doesn’t love me anymore.”

Nictoria immediately opened her mouth to say something, but paused. Her expression wavered, as if she was fighting the urge to say something on instinct alone.

“Listen, that’s not it.” She finally said, putting a gloved hand on Miley’s shoulder. “Happy doesn’t dislike you now— or anything like that.”

The Jolteon looked up at the two trainers, its big eyes staring at the two expectantly.

“When your ma gave you that stone— he wasn’t quite ready for it is all. He wanted to be an Eevee a bit longer I’d wager.” She tried to explain. “You said you two used to be real in synch, right?”

“Uh huh…”

“Well— Happy isn’t in synch with himself anymore, either.” She said, idly scratching under the Jolteon’s chin. “Imagine you woke up one day— your legs are longer, your hairs a different color, and now you’ve got more energy than you know what to do with, and nobody warned you.”

“I don’t think I’d like that…” Miley said softly.

“And you’d be pretty out of sorts for a while after it happened wouldn’t you?”

“Yeah.” She confirmed.

“Give it time, then.” Nictoria promised, patting her back gently. “You two will be able to battle like you used to soon enough. In the meantime try and be understanding.” She said.

Miley nodded, taking hold of Happy and hugging him tightly. The Jolteon returned the hug happily, nuzzling into its trainer.

“Now listen to what I tell you all in the lecture today— because I have a thing or two to teach you about moves like Thunder.”

“But my mom just bought me the tm— she said it was the strongest move ever!”

Nictoria visibly grimaced.

“Of course she did.”

The video cuts off here.]

[holylulusworld]

In demon veritas

Summary: Getting kidnapped by demons sucks. Listening to the ugly truth even more.

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Character: Sam Winchester, unnamed demon

Warnings: angst, threats, hostage situation, unrequited feelings?, fluff, violence

Divider by @firefly-graphics​

“What a nice day, isn’t it? When I cleaned my knives this morning, I didn’t think Dean Winchester’s bitch will end up being my guest,” you spit in the demon’s face. Well, the face that black-eyed bastard stole.

“Fuck you,” while the demon circles you like prey, you try to untie the knot holding your hands behind your back. Dean taught you how to do it, but it feels like you forgot about everything you ever knew.

“Aw, what a pity I’m stuck in that bitch’s body,” the demon leans closer to lick over your cheek. “Well, I can still get a new meat suit and keep you up on that promise.”

“I’m telling you this only once,” you hold the demon’s gaze, “let me go and I won’t kill you. If not, you will end like all the other black-eyed bastards before you. Dead and gone.”

“Says the scared little girl restrained to a chair,” she snickers now. “I bet you already peed your pants. You are nothing but the Winchesters' little sidekick. Not even strong enough to kill the big bad monsters on your own.”

“Again. Fuck you.”

She slaps your face. Hard.

Blood runs down your face, dripping onto your favorite flannel, soaking the fabric. It’s the one you got for your birthday from Dean. You cherish it. The bitch will pay for ruining it.

“Is that all you’ve got?” you try to buy some time. Dean and Sam must already know that you got kidnapped. Your friends will trace your phone and bring you home. It’s only a matter of time.

“Patience, sweetheart,” you grimace. She has no right to use the pet name. Not her. Only Dean is allowed to call you that. “I guess that’s one of the reasons Dean is so annoyed with you.”

“Fuck. You.”

“I bet he never fucked you,” she whispers in your ear. “Hmm…yeah. I remember the night you told that busty blonde he’s your boyfriend. Boy was he mad,” she chuckles darkly. “He wanted to kick you out of the car on his way back to the motel.”

“You’re lying,” you huff, but wonder how the demon can know about that night. Did Dean get mad? You only wanted him to come back to the motel with you. It was a stupid joke…

“Sweet cheeks, I’m not the one pretending that I’m not in love with that Winchester,” she grins as you drop your gaze. “Aw, you’re so bad at hiding your feelings. And Dean is bad at hiding that he’s fucking annoyed with you.”

You ponder. Is it true?

“I don’t believe a single word leaving your lips, demon bitch.”

“I’m actually a guy,” she laughs loudly. “Little miss sunshine here was only the next best meat suit I found. I had to get you. I’m not picky. A body is just a body,” the demon shrugs.

“Do you think I care?” you spat. “I’ll kill you no matter what. In the end, you’re a demon bitch. Guy, girl, guinea pig. It doesn’t matter to me.”

“Back to Dean,” closing your eyes you take a deep breath. Demons lie, you know that. “Did you know he hates that you are always around? You wash his clothes, make him food, check on him if he drinks too much.”

“It’s called friendship,” you bite back. The demon can’t know that you start to ask yourself if Dean is annoyed with you.

“It’s called clingy, sweetheart,” the demon gets a knife out and presses the tip into your cheek, drawing blood. “He hates your pie too. Dean thinks it tastes like old socks.”

“He loves my pie.”

You don’t even know why you fight with the demon over pie and your friendship with Dean. What does a monster know about your bond with the elder brother?

“He hates it, just like—”

“Like what?” you cock your head to watch the demon choke. The demon starts coughing out black smoke as the door flings open. “Dude, what’s wrong? Did you smoke the wrong stuff?”

“Sweetheart? Y/N,” while Sam plays an exorcism on his phone, Dean storms into the room, pushing the whining demon out of his way. “Fuck, you worried us there for a minute.”

“Dean, hey,” you awkwardly watch Dean cut the ropes holding you to the chair open. “I’m sorry. I didn’t want to worry you or Sam.”

“We are friends and hunting partners,” Sam says while checking on the unconscious girl. “I think she’ll make it. We came just in time.”

“Get her out of here,” Dean says while looking you all over. He’s worriedly checking on your swollen face. “That bitch got you good.”

“Yeah…I guess. Sorry for being so…” you bite your tongue. Can you tell Dean about all the things the demon said? “You know…clingy sometimes and stuff.”

“Where is this coming from?” Dean doesn’t hesitate. He picks you up in bridal style, grumbling under his breath as you don’t answer. “Sweetheart, talk to me.”

“The demon knew and said a few things.”

“Demons lie.”

“You’ll tell me if I’m clingy, right?” you murmur. “If you don’t like my pie, it’s fine. I can buy a pie from now on.” You close your eyes and take a deep breath, waiting for Dean to tell you he hates that you are clingy.

“Y/N,” he stops walking to look at you. “Sweetheart look at me.”

You blink one eye open. “No cheating. Open your eyes. Both,” he hums when you open your other eye too. “Good. Y/N, I love your pie and that you are attentive. You wash my clothes too.” He grins now. “I hate doing laundry.”

“I know.”

“And I hate the pie Sammy buys. I like yours much better.”

“Okay.”

He sighs as you still don’t believe him. His eyes drop to your chest, and he inhales sharply seeing the blood on your flannel.

“You need a new flannel,” Dean concludes. “I’ll get you a new one.”

“I liked this one.”

“I know…”

“Uh-what’s this?” After Dean patched you up, and looked you all over again, he brought you a flannel. Now you are sitting on his bed, covered by two blankets, and stare at the flannel he put on his bed. “That’s a little too big.”

“It’s one of mine,” he says. “Only if you want to wear it.”

You nod eagerly.

“I want to see my favorite girl in my flannel,” he casually says. “How about you put it on, and I'll get us a snack?”

“I can go back to my room. I’m fine, Dean.”

“I’m not sure about that,” he points a finger at your swollen cheek. “I’ll keep an eye on you tonight. Maybe tomorrow too. You can never know.”

He smirks.

“If you say so, Doctor Winchester.”

“You are in capable hands, miss,” Dean pecks your forehead. “I’ll be right back to take good care of you…”

Tags in reblog.

[unknownspecies]

[Like This?]

[Kuroo x f!reader]

“Tetsuro, you’re a dork,” Kenma grumbled, taking a bite out of his slice of pie.

“Me?! You have no idea what you’re talking about. You literally have no love life.” Kuroo scoffed indignantly.

You, Kenma, and Kuroo decided to meet up at a bakery to hang out. You met Kenma a few years ago and have become close friends ever since. He introduced you to his best friend and you three quickly became a close trio.

His friend raised a brow, “Oh really? You don’t know that.”

You snorted and Kuroo screeched, “what the fuck?! Even if you do have game, the only reason those women get with you is because you’re famous.”

Kenma sipped on his drink and eyed him, “They didn’t even know my name. Besides, I’m not the one who’s so socially incompetent that I can’t recognize when a girl is flirting with me.”

You giggled, “He has a point there, love.” Kuroo glared at you, “You mind your business.”

“See? She’s literally flirting with you and you don’t even notice.” Kenma pointed out.

“Are you talking about her calling me ‘love’? She calls everyone that! That’s not flirting, that’s just her being affectionate.” He stared at the both of you, upset that his two friends were ganging up against him and calling him out on his lack of love life.

You and Kenma exchanged a knowing look. Kenma knew of your crush on him, but it wasn’t really hidden either. You flirted with Kuroo at every chance that you got and this buffoon still couldn’t take the hint. You normally would be worried that Kuroo was just denying your advances, but you’ve known him long enough to see that he was an absolute idiot when it came to anything romantic.

You decided to slightly alter the subject. “So Kenma, if you’ve been with girls, what are some hot things that we do?”

You were genuinely curious, wanting to get a guy’s perspective on the subject of attraction.

Kenma shrugged, “All girls are pretty. It depends on the guy. I personally like someone who’s laid back and doesn’t-”

“I don’t think she cares about your personal taste, Kenma. She wants to know what girls do that you think are hot. Now I’m curious about my best friend’s taste. I bet he likes it when she’s bold though,” he elbowed you and you snorted at your crush’s comment. “Be nice,” you muttered and looked at Kenma, awaiting his answer.

He rolled his eyes at Kuroo’s interruption. “I’m not going to lie. I find it hot when girls tie their hair up. Or anything that takes it out of their faces.”

You snickered, “I wonder why.” Then quickly took a sip of your drink laughing at Kenma flipping you off. “What about you Kuroo? What does the handsome nincompoop that can’t take a hint like girls doing?”

Kuroo scowled at the insult then stirred his drink in thought. After a moment, he responded.

“I think I would love it if a girl were to grab my face. The boldness is really hot-”

Before he could make another sound, your hand shot up to grip his jaw. You pulled your faces together and brushed your lips against his. You then grazed it along his jaw until your lips were against his ear.

“Like this?” you murmured, your breath fanning against him. You turned your head to face him, then slowly backed away, smirking. You took a sip of your drink, staring at him from your periphery. You were shocked at your sudden action, but you were also growing impatient. You hoped that this would’ve been enough to show him your feelings towards him.

To say that Kuroo was red would be an understatement. His entire face was flushed and he was stuttering. You weren’t even sure he knew what he wanted to say.

He grabbed his cup and shoved the straw in his mouth. After a few moments of tense silence, he mumbled.

“Yeah... Like that.”

Kenma groaned loudly, rolling his eyes. “For fuck’s sake you guys need to get a room.”

[skinnyducky]

poster girl // v.h.

a/n this was supposed to be a double update yesterday but i literally fell asleep the minute i posted it. i was very inspired by 00′s sex comedies for this one, so if you see some american pie influence in there, that’s why. anyways, back to our regularly scheduled program.

p.s. y/h/c = your hair colour

vinnie hacker x fem!reader

Word Count: 837, edited

WARNING: language, mentions of self-gratification (lol), and that’s all.

---------

Y/n was seated in the dining room of the Hype House, feet kicked up onto the table as she flipped through the newest issue of Vogue, the same one she just so happened to grace the cover of. It came as a shock when the famous fashion magazine decided to make her the poster girl for the month of July, but it wasn’t that surprising. Not only was Y/n an influencer, but she was a rising star in the modelling world. Her Vogue era was bound to happen at any moment.

As she gazed at the various photographs and spreads, all consisting of her in dark and sultry positions, she reached for the box of chocolate turtles on the table right next to her. However, before she could even snag one, there was a knock at the door. "You guys, someone’s at the door!" She shouted, hoping one of her roomies in the next room over would get it.

However, the knocking ensued. She scoffed, tossing her magazine onto the table. "You know what, I’ll get it!" She got out of her comfortable spot and headed to the front door. "Assholes can spend an hour making one tiktok but can’t take a second to answer the damn door." She grumbled.

She opened the door and was greeted by an elderly man holding a large Starbucks drink. "Order for a…Winnie Sacker?"

Y/n snickered, "I think you mean Vinnie Hacker, and yes he is here. I will gladly take that." She took the drink for the man and shut the door, not before bidding him a ‘thank you.’ She then proceeded to make her way up the stairs to deliver Vinnie his drink. On her way to his room, she stole a few sips of the delicious latte. It’s not like he’d care, they were best friends.

As she stepped up to his door, she couldn’t help but notice there was a bit of commotion going on inside. She pressed her ear against the door, Vinnie’s low moans and groans flowing into her ear.

"Oh my god," he wailed. "Oh, that’s it."

Y/n’s brows knitted together, the girl curious as to what was going on inside. Was he in the middle of streaming? He was notorious for making random noises during his streams. Or maybe he was in the middle of a steamy foreplay session with some girl on Facetime. Either way, it couldn’t be that bad.

Without a knock or a shout, Y/n barged into his room. "Hey Vinnie, I got your— OH MY GOD!"

Y/n couldn’t believe her eyes. There, standing just a few feet away from her in front of his window, was Vinnie…butt ass naked, with one hand gripping his one-eyed trout and the other holding a magazine.

"Oh my god, Vinnie, I didn’t know you had it like that!" Y/n teased, shielding her eyes.

"Fucking hell, Y/n, get out!"

"I just," she laughed, trying to catch her breath. "I just came by…to drop off…your drink."

"Okay, cool! Drop it off and leave, please!"

Without removing her hand from her eyes, Y/n roamed around the room until her hand came in contact with the coolness of his computer desk. After placing the drink down, she started making her exit. But before she left, she turned towards Vinnie and split her fingers to get a quick peek, wanting to see how red in the face the boy was. Just as she thought, he was absolutely flushed, his cheeks redder than Satan’s dick.

Though she couldn’t help it as her eyes gravitated to the magazine that was covering his junk. While it was upside down, she was able to comprehend what the image was. She recognized the facial structure of the model, the same Y/h/c that pigmented the hair on top of her head, and the slight glimmer in said model’s eyes. That’s when she figured out that in his hands was the latest issue of Vogue. Well, there’s no doubt he was using that to unclog his drain, but does that mean he was tickling his pickle to…?

She pointed down at the thick booklet, her mouth forming into the shape of an ‘o.’

"Holy shit, you were jerking off to me!" She shrieked.

"Y/n, keep your voice down!"

"I don’t know if I should be embarrassed or weirded out," she said, ignoring his wish. "Eh, regardless, I’m flattered…I think."

Vinnie sighed, "Can we really not do this? I don’t know if you can see, but I’m literally naked and I would rather not deal with this right now when there’s wind blowing through my ass crack."

"I get it, dude. Carry on with, um, your session." Y/n spun around, taking her leave. Just as she stepped foot outside of his room, she once again looked back at her curly-haired friend. "By the way, if you’re trying to see the good stuff, page forty-six has a nice spread of me." She shot him a wink, walking out of his room both a blushing and giggling mess.

---------

tag list: @barbietiingz​ @tvdsure​ @hwrteye​ 

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Neighbourly

Warnings: noncon sexual acts and rape, cheating, name calling, choking.

This is dark!Bucky Barnes and explicit. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Based on this drabble request: Bucky Barnes + “But you’re married.” + enemies/hate + Bucky hates reader (his wife's friend) but at the same time don't want other men near to her.

The door opened and you nearly flinched at the sharp blue eyes the greeted you, almost as blunt as the edged “hey”.

“Oh, uh, I was-- This is Anna’s,” you held out the round cake dish, you’d noticed it after last weekend’s barbecue, “thought I’d bring it back before I forgot.”

“Mmm,” Bucky eyed the little blue flowers around the rim and took it stiffly, “thanks, she’s not here so I’ll get it to her.”

“Alright, I..” you stuttered. Bucky Barnes was entirely off putting. His wife was your best friend on the street, yet he seemed to resent you for that, “well, thank you.”

You turned to flee before you withered beneath his impenetrable glare. You still didn’t know why he hated you so much, you only knew that when he came home and you were having a glass of wine with Anna, he barely acknowledged you, and on several occasions had failed to lower his voice when asking why you were there. 

It was worse even that you saw how friendly he was with the other neighbours. To you, he was a completely different man than the helpful suburban husband offering to mow Agnes’ lawn as he did his own.

“Hey,” you stopped at the bottom step and turned back to him, “that guy, you know, the one with the loud car, you wanna tell him to keep it down?”

“Brock?” you blinked and shook your head, “yeah, sure.”

“Really? Six a.m.?” he gripped the thick glass, “there’s children in this neighbourhood.”

“I get it, okay? I’ll let him know,” you sniffed and spun back to the walk.

“So he’s coming back?” Bucky asked.

You froze and breathed through your nostrils, “what do you care?”

“He’s not really… the type we welcome around here,” he sneered.

You turned on your heel and frowned at him, “As far as I recall, the HOA has no authority over my personal relationships.”

He snickered darkly and set the dish on the metal table beside the long bench. He stomped down his front steps and came up in front of you.

“Well, noise disturbances are within jurisdiction, you didn’t put on quite the show for everyone last night,” he smirked.

“Bullshit,” you refused to back down as he planted himself in front of you.

“Ah, you’re right, didn’t hear much but you left your curtains wide open, anyone could have walked by,” he looked down his nose, “I know I got a good look.”

“Dude, what is your problem?”

“You sure moved on quick,” he growled.

“Is this about Sam, really?”

“No, this is about you,” he countered, “about the scum you’re bringing into your bed and our neighbourhood.”

“Fuck off and mind your own business,” you spat and stormed away.

You marched down the sidewalk and across your yard. You slammed your front door behind you and locked it as you steamed. It was none of Bucky’s business who you were fucking. What did he care? Even if he did work with your ex, it was none of his business. You and Sam divorced over a year ago.

A knock came at the door, more a pounding. Really? Was he that desperate to be right? You ignored him and took your phone from the counter. You paired with your speaker and turned on your favourite playlist. You turned on the faucet and started loading the plates into the soapy water. He’d go away when he realised you didn’t give a fuck.

You bopped your head to the beat as you scrubbed and loaded the rack with dripping dishes. The knocking soon faded and you dried off your hands with the checker cloth and hung it back on the bar. You scrolled through your phone for a better song but it slipped from your hand as suddenly your neck was constricted by damp fabric.

You kicked out as the dishcloth was twisted around your neck and you flailed against the hard body behind you. The music disguised the noise of your struggle as you slapped at the thick forearm that snaked around your middle.

“Bucky?” you choked out.

“Shut up,” he snarled as he turned you and pushed you against the wet counter.

“What are you--” he pulled the cloth tighter and stifled your voice.

He grabbed the top of your jeans and you wriggled as he struggled to get them down. Your feet slipped on the tile as you grasped at both the noose at your throat and the edge of the counter. He jerked your body as he forced the denim to your knees and yanked down your panties just as roughly.

“Wha--” you coughed as he pushed his arm against your back and bent you over the sink, “But---you’re married-- Anna--”

“This isn’t about that,” he snarled and shifted behind you, his fly biting your flesh as he rolled down his own pants, “this is about you.”

“St--” he twisted the ends of the cloth again and your head bulged from the lack of air.

“Shhhh,” he leaned over you as the song faded out and another came on.

Sugar pie, Honey bunch…

He lined himself up and pulled your leg back. He held your head down by the faucet as he felt around and guided his tip to your entrance. You kicked wildly but not hard as your lungs burned. He slammed into you and your hips hit the counter so hard you thought they might break. He thrust again, harder, and your eyes watered.

“What are you gonna do?” he hissed as he rutted into you, “you gonna tell my wife? You think she’d believe you? You think she doesn’t see that prick driving up to your house every night? Everyone knows what a slut you are.”

You gulped up air as he loosened the cloth for a moment but before you could scream he tightened it again. He grabbed your chin with his other hand as he crashed into your over and over. He made you look out the window over your sink at the serene sight of the breeze rippling over green grass.

“No one will believe you,” he rasped and hummed as he held back a groan, “they’re all clueless, you hear that? They’re in their gardens, they’re at their barbecues, and here you are, just like a whore.”

Your eyes rolled back as your vision spotted and your temples throbbed. Your body was jolted with each rock of his hips and soon your toes didn’t even meet the floor. You faded into an agonized daze, hardly aware of his relentless pace.

“You’ll know,” he growled, “I’ll make sure you never forget this.”

☠☠☠

Please reblog and like! Let me know what you think.

[duskythesomething]

I MAY... HAVE BROUGHT HOME A NEW CHILD..........

this is Snickers Pie the One-eyed Guy! poor lad was so on sale it was ridiculous and i couldn't help it, so Cheesecake Banana Snake gets a new sibling.

[hops-hunny]

Distance Makes the Heart Grow

CHAPTER 1

Series Masterlist

Pairing: Mafia Boss!Neville Longbottom x Reader

Pronouns: She/Her

Word Count: 1.8k

Summary: (Y/n) lives a normal life. But that’s the issue, it’s normal, it’s plain, and it’s growing boring. Everyday she wishes for something, anything to spice up her life. But, when her old school friend (and crush) shows up at her bakery with a new look (and what looks like a new life), what will it bring for her? Will their puppy love grow? Will his big secret lead to the end of them or will it spark a new beginning?

Warnings: None for this chapter!

A/N: Nothing major happens in this chapter, this is sorta just like the beginning stages.

(Y/n) let out a load groan, hand searching aimlessly for the alarm clock on her side table. “Where is it?!” she continued to slap her hand around on her table, many objects falling to the floor before her hand finally landed on the right one, the rooster noises ceasing as her hand collided with the big snooze button. She rolled over, sighing as she stared at her speckled ceiling. “Perhaps I really should take the time to learn how to use the alarm on my phone.” it wasn’t that she was bad with technology persay. It’s just if it was produced after the year of 2008 you could forget it. Could you really blame her though? During all her years at Hogwarts, she had never made the switch her fellow classmates made with modern technology. Sure she had a smart phone but the only thing she could manage to do with it is call, text, and make notes in the notes app (something she had just recently learned as well).

Unwillingly, she crawled out of bed, stretching as she let out a large yawn, bones snapping and cracking like a New Year’s firework. She made her way to the bathroom, looking into the same mirror she always did, watching the light in the center flicker the same way as always. Life for (Y/n) was seemingly unchanging. Day after day, month after month, was spent exactly the same. She’d wake up, get ready for work, and then travel a few blocks down the street to open the bakery. Her bakery.

It wasn’t that (Y/n) didn’t enjoy what she did. She happened to enjoy her job very much. All her friends at Hogwart’s had encouraged her, giving her the push she need to travel the journey of opening her own business. It was something she had always wanted to do but her parents begged her not to. In their words they didn’t want ‘an over zealous and unrealistic’ daughter on ther hands. However, their rude words simply were fuel to the fire. During her 5th year, she began to busk tables at various shops in Hogsmeade. It was hard work, balancing long shifts at 3 different shops and still maintaining decent scores in each class. But, she knew if she couldn’t handle that then there was no way she’d be able to handle running a bakery. So day in and day out she’d work, and work, and work and by the end of her 7th year she had a decent amount of money saved up! 

The first issue had been finding a place in a good area that would gain traction and attention while the second one was finding someone willing to sell to someone fresh out of school with no prior business experience. She’d spoken to many people in various different places, some good, and some bad before she finally had been blessed with the chance of meeting Mary and her wife Denise. It was a miracle really. (Y/n) was short on the money, exponentially so however, Mary had sold to her anyways. She said she saw a passion in the girl that she hadn’t seen for a very long time and that it was something she wanted to help foster considering she had had her time to live her dreams and explore passions of her own. So with that, a handshape was exchanged for a beat up envolope filled with the entirety of the girl’s life savings. She had invested every nickel and dime she had ever earned into the place and she prayed it wouldn’t blow up in her face.

Which brought her to where she was today: a proud owner of a highly successful business. And of course, with great business comes a nice chunk of money which caught her parents’ attention. They had began to call her everyday but when that they didn’t work, they showed up at her shop unannounced. At first, she had felt warm inside. Her usual cold and distant parents had come to visit her! However, when they started crunching out numbers and percentages, that short lived happiness was replaced by irritation in which she quickly kicked them out, placing a charm on the building that when they’d attempt to enter (if they really, truly, had the balls to come back), their bodies would be flung right back onto the sidewalk into the heaping piles of trash on the city side walks. Now, (Y/n) was by no means wealthy, but she made a nice amount of money to be engaging in something she enjoyed so heavily, which is why she was confused where they had gotten the idea she had money to share with the main two people who were the cause of her insecurities. Plus, every extra dollar she had she put right back into the shop. Paying her workers, building maintenance, ingredients. She wasn’t a fan of having too much money, her family had shown her what that could cause (and how easily you could lose it all). 

Yet still sometimes she found herself wishing she could live the lavish lifestyle her parents once did. She mainly dreamed more so of the more engaging parts instead of the status and power that came with it. As she frosted various different cakes with thick buttercream, her mind would wonder to vivid imagery of beautiful hotel rooms, with breath taking views. Michelin five star meals, coated in delicious cream sauces. Endless adventure waiting to be discovered.

And yet here she was, sitting at a table as she stuffed her face with a raspberry marzipan cupcake. It was a Wednesday, first one of the month and as per usual, her and Twyla were set together, sampling cakes, chocolates, and other treats for the upcoming days. Wednesday had been the official day  they had chosen due to the slowed flow of people that would come in. (Y/n) liked to have a different theme each day of the week. The customers lived for it and she had massed a group of frequenters who came each day, wondering what the theme would be that day.

“You know boss, I’ve gotta say it. Working here and sampling all these cakes with you is giving me quite the ass!” Twyla said, turning around as she wiggled her ass in the girl’s face for emphasis. (Y/n) giggled, rolling her eyes as she swatted at the girl, missing as she jumped away from her last minute. “Hey! You gotta take me out to dinner first for that.”

“Just because we’re sampling cakes doesn’t mean that the store is closed! Anyone could walk in at any moment and would you really want that to be their first experience here?” she asked, eyes scanning the silver platter in front of them. She decided on the new dessert flavored chocolates she had been working on. Popping it into her mouth, she let out a moan of approval.

“I mean, I dont’ see why not! We’d definitely make a lot more money with a cake like mine!” the blue haired girl said, sitting down as she grabbed a chocolate as well. “Besides, I don’t think those little noises you’re making would help the scene.” she stated, snickering as the girl across from her tensed up.

“It-it’s not like that! The chocolate- it just- I just- ugh!” she stuttered out, huffing as she crossed her arms over her chest, pouting at the girl. “If you’re gonna keep being mean we can end this process. Just tell me what you think of the blueberry pie chocolate so I can know if we’re adding it to tomorrow’s spread.”

“Oh come on (Y/n) it’s good! Every first Wednesday we sit here, you overly critique yourself, then me and Tiana end up picking out our favorites for the next day!” Twyla was right, even their patterns for trying new things remained the same. (Y/n) wiped her messy hand on her aprons, sighing as she stood up to go back to her position behind the counter. Her employee followed, grabbing the platter to put back into the kitchen before joining her boss behind the counter.

“You’re right. I swear everyday is beginning to feel the same.” She opened her notepad, beginning to take inventory of the sweets they had in the display counter. “I’m grateful for everything I have, I really am. But sometimes I just wish I could have something, anything….”

“New?” the green eyed girl added, catching the (h/c) haired girl’s attention. She nodded, looking at the girl who had snuck a cookie out of the glass case. “I feel ya, girl. Everyday feels the same. Sometimes even when new people come in, I can already tell how they’re going to be. How they’ll act, what they’ll order, what method of payment they’ll use.” (Y/n) eyed the girl up, raising a brow.

“Are you sure you’re not just using legilimens?” she questioned, watching as the girl shifted on her feet, scratching the back of her neck.

“Okay so maybe I do sometimes. But a lot of the times I don’t! Like the other day this weird guy came in and- woah. (Y/n) I don’t wanna freak you out but I have a feeling those hotties in suits across the street are going to be walking in here soon.” Twyla said, in an uncharacteristically quiet tone. The shorter girl followed her friend’s gaze, looking out the glass doors across the street. Three unfamiliar men were crossing over, all in suits that she could only assume cost as much as four months of rent. However, the one in the middle really caught her eye.

Before she knew it, the bell chimed and the three of them made their way in. They looked very out of place in the brightly decorated shop. The one in the middle looked the most important, towering over the other two men. He had dark slicked back hair, an eyebrow piercing, and tattoos that were visible on his neck and hands (which had a few beautiful looking rings on them (none of which were a wedding band…)), yet his hazel eyes held a soft look to them. To his left was a redhead boy, freckles danced all along his face. His eyes were bloodshot from god knows what. He had tattoos as well (not as many as the middle man) and a few unique ear piercings. The guy to the hot tall guy’s right was attractive too but not nearly as serious looking as the other two. In fact, he was humming a song under his breath, a smile causing the tattoo on the right side of his face to crease. 

As she went to open her mouth to greet them, the man in the middle eye’s grew wide, his mouth gaping as he stared at her. He walked closer, examining her face closely which caused her to grow confused.

“I’m...I’m sorry. Do I know you?” she asked.

“(Y/n)?” she gasped at the sound of the familiar voice, her notepad and pen dropping from her hands. She made her way around the counter, staring up at the tall man.

“Neville?!”

NEXT||

TAGSLIST: @vayeya11 @pink-hufflepuff @clancyscookies @beewitchedlou @nevillelongbottomsgirlfriend @redpanda-poetry @vibingaesthetically

[flaminpumpkin]

Happy birthday, Jordan

It wasn’t even 4am when Hal woke up to the gentle green glow of his ring announcing a new message from the Corps. They really couldn’t leave him alone, even on his birthday now, could they? 

He had half a mind to pretend not to notice and go back to sleep. His last mission had been short but exhausting, leaving him completely drained. His dark circles had dark circles at this point, even though he had slept basically all day the day before, waking up only to go to the bathroom and eat half an apple and a toast. 

Unfortunately for him – and fortunately for the Corps – Hal Jordan was a devoted man and an Honor Lantern so he kind of had to. 

With a loud groan, he straightened a bit so he could prop his chin in his hand, not moving from his position on the bed where he was sprawled on his stomach, pillow still half under him. He had been Earth-side for barely two days, if they were expecting from him to look decent, they could fuck right off. 

But when he ordered his ring to open the message, he was greeted by a short and simple: Happy birthday, Hal! Just this. It made him smile (and also breathe a bit more easily, he really didn’t want to go back to space this quickly.) 

Then his ring pinged again and there was a little hologram of his fellow Green Lanterns. He could see Kilowog and Tomar, Jess and Simon. John and Kyle, the younger man grinning like a five year old as he held a notepad with a caricature of Hal drawn on it and come on Kyle, my head is not that big. There was also Guy. Who was… Hal sighed, shaking his head. Guy was harboring a shit eating grin while flipping him off. Typical. 

Before going back to sleep, he sent back a simple thank you note to all of them and then, for good measure, he sent another one to Guy with a hologram of himself flipping the bird. 

He swore he could hear him laugh all the way to earth. That asshole. 

*    *    *

The second time he woke up, around three o’clock in the afternoon, Hal felt a lot less like a zombie. He probably still had a few hours of sleep to catch up on but it was nothing he couldn’t survive without. He had to be up in a couple of hours for monitor duty anyway, so might as well wake up a bit earlier and enjoy some peace before going back to work. 

There was a little cardboard box on his kitchen counter when he emerged from the shower, with a fancy little ribbon and a card. He didn’t even need to open the card to know who it was. 

Firstly, because Carol was the only one, with Barry, who had a spare key to his apartment in case he had an emergency call from the Corps and, secondly, because it just had her name written all over it. He recognized the design on the box being from that fancy French bakery close to her apartment and knew that when he would open it, he’d find a generous slice of their famous lemon meringue pie. 

He ate it in silence with some coffee, responding to the different birthday wishes he had received. Some were from Tom and a bunch of coworkers. There were also several audio messages from his nephew and niece trying to figure out how to work around the feature until their parents probably had had enough and had decided to take family photos instead. Six in total, all of them blurry. But at least Hal could somehow guess what was written on the sign his niece was holding. It made him laugh and he decided to call his brother, just to tease him.

They ended up talking for a while. It felt good, this small bit of normalcy.

*    *    *

Hal was on his way for the monitor room, two cups of coffee in hands, when he heard someone call his name. Ah. He had hoped no one would catch him before monitor duty. He was already on the brink of running late and god knew Batman disliked lateness. But hey, after all it was his birthday. 

“Hal! Hang on!”

He turned around just when Clark arrived at his level. The other man was smiling widely at him, holding a small plate with a cupcake on it in his big hands and looking like an oversized golden retriever puppy.

“Lois made enough cupcakes for an army because she was bored at home yesterday – I’m starting to think that forced leave really wasn’t our boss’ greatest idea but anyway. She told me to bring it here for everyone,” he said before Hal could even ask anything. “There’s a whole plate in the lounge but with Barry around I thought I’d give you one for your birthday before he wolfs them down.”

He snorted at that because, honestly, that was fair. Because of his powers, Barry was basically a walking stomach and everybody knew he had a giant sweet tooth. 

“Thanks, Clark.”

“You’re welcome. And happy birthday!” he said, floating away.

Hal had given up on trying to balance the plate and his two cups in his hands, using a construct instead, when Dinah pounced on him, quickly followed by Oliver and Barry. She was the first one to hug him, kissing his cheek gently.

“Happy birthday, hot stuff.”

“Thanks, Di.”

“Hal, my man! Happy birthday!” Oliver shouted before squishing Hal’s cheek between two big, callous hands, not even waiting for Dinah to be out of his arms.

In retrospect, he should have expected it – it was Oliver after all, the guy didn’t know what “inhibition” meant – but, he couldn’t stop his eyes from going wide as saucers as the blond placed a resounding kiss right on his lips.  

“So? How’s that for a birthday present?” he asked, smug, earning himself an eye roll from both Barry and Dinah. 

“That was my present?”

“Yes. Wonderful isn’t?”

“Truly. I’m delighted. Such a generous present.”

“I’m a generous man.”

“So charitable.”

All eyes turned on Barry.

“Was that sarcasm, Bear?”

The speedster fixed Oliver with a blank stare. He looked even more exasperated than usual, which made Hal snicker. People assumed way too often that Barry was a goody two shoes but Hal had witnessed firsthand how quick witted he really was. “A snarky little shit” Oliver had called him once. And he was right.

“Happy birthday, Harold,” Barry said after a few seconds of silent judgement, opening his arms to embrace Hal.

He returned the hug good heartedly.

“Bear, you can’t wish me happy birthday and then call me Harold. That’s not legal, buddy.”

“Just say thank you.”

Hal simply squeezed him one last time before letting him go, winking at the group as he started to walk down the corridor again.

“Gotta go. Don’t want Bats to be mad at me on my birthday.”

“Like that would bother you!”

“Well yes, actually,” he almost said but he didn’t want to spend the next thirty minutes explaining to Oliver why so he pretended he hadn’t heard.

Truth was, Hal and Bruce were friends. Good friends, even. Recently, the pilot had even caught himself hoping for them to become more than that. They still had disagreements of course, they were both stubborn but they were past that now. Most of the time, it felt more like some weird kind of aggressive flirting than a real fight.

Hal enjoyed the other man’s company, especially now that he was comfortable enough with him to talk about more personal matters, like his family and boy did Bruce had things to say about the weird little clique that was his family. The fond look on his face just made it all the more worth it.

He cherished those hours spent together on the Watchtower, sometimes wishing they could do this outside of their hero work. Maybe he could pretend to need help on the Javelin’s new update to see him. She needed one and the only other person who knew her as well as Hal did was Bruce. He could buy him dinner too. 

Sounds like a plan, he thought, entering the monitor room. 

Bruce was already there, of course. His cowl was pulled back like every time when they were paired up, his hair looking ridiculously good even mussed. The man was always so effortlessly pretty, it was revolting.

“You’re late, Jordan.”

He didn’t even glance in Hal’s direction but it wasn’t like he needed to check that it was him.

“Better late than never, Spooks.”

That earned him a huff and then he saw Bruce slide a cup of coffee towards him on the desk.

Oh.

“It’s probably cold now.”

Lukewarm was probably more accurate – Hal wasn’t that late. But he refrained from mentioning it to the other man, instead grabbing the two still steaming cups from his tray construct and handing his to Bruce. 

“I thought about preparing some too, so lucky us, I guess.”

He smirked at the Bat, oddly proud when Bruce smiled back, even just slightly. 

“Miss Lane’s?” Bruce asked, nodding in direction of his construct while taking a sip of his coffee.

Hal looked back at the still floating, green glowing tray and reached out to retrieve the plate Clark had given him.

“Yep. Wanna share? It was your birthday yesterday after all. And happy belated birthday. By the way.”

It wasn’t lost on Hal that he had completely forgotten to even text him for his birthday but, like he had said, better late than never. He knew it probably hadn’t bothered Bruce, maybe hadn’t even registered with him that Hal hadn’t said anything but it sure did bother the pilot that he had forgotten. Bruce smiled again anyway, something small and secretive. Something just for him to see. Hal could feel an unusual blush creep up his cheeks.

“No, thank you,” Bruce said, turning back towards the screens in front of them, the cup Hal had given him cradled in his gauntleted hands. “Clark actually flew all the way to Gotham yesterday to bring us some. I left it for the kids. Too sweet.”

Hal had to laugh at that.

“Says the guy who takes his coffee with a metric ass load of sugar and cream in it.”

“I’m full of surprises.”

Bruce side-eyed him, half hiding a smirk behind the rim of his cup and Hal laughed again. 

They focused on the monitors after that, a companionable silence between them, and Hal regretted not sleeping those two extra hours earlier. He could feel the bone deep tiredness take over him after a mere half an hour, his body sagging in his chair and relaxing into it despite his best efforts to stay alert. 

He was nodding off, barely even conscious anymore, when he felt Bruce take his cup from his lax fingers.

“Idiot,” he heard him whisper and Hal wanted to retort something but he was too far gone to even form a coherent thought at this point. 

Then he felt fingers graze his forehead, brushing away wild strands of hair, followed by a pair of slightly chapped lips pressing there. He automatically leaned into the gentle touch, sighing long and deep. The lips stayed there a second longer, lingering and warming up his skin, his whole body. 

Hal wanted to wake up, to say something cheeky or, even better, just kiss Bruce. Properly. On the lips. Like he had been longing to do. But all he managed was a weak little whine as he turned his head towards the other man.

“Happy birthday, Jordan,” was the last thing he heard before drifting off completely.

(A few seconds later. Training room. Watchtower.

“Hey, Ollie?”

“What is it, Barry?”

“I think I just saw Bruce kiss Hal.”

“WHAT?!”)

[kaistarus]

Enchanted

Chapter 1

Pairing: NishinoyaXReader

Word: 2.2K

Summary: When your best friend enters a relationship with a prince your life changes in ways you never thought possible. You gain new friendships, learn dangerous secrets, and discover that maybe love might exist for you after all...

A/N: This is going to be a longer project and I’m super excited for it!! :) I already have the next several chapters drafted so we’re looking good

Masterlist

Next

“I cannot believe you’re being courted by a literal prince,” you rested your chin on crossed arms, watching the crowd wandering the festival grounds-couples arm-in-arm while admiring the colorful decor hanging from trees and strung across poles, children chiming with laughter as they chased through their parent’s legs, and musicians creating a melodious tune that floated gently above the ruckus. “I have yet to find one decent man, but you get a prince.”

“You’re the one who decided to skip the town’s annual pie judging contest,” Hinata smirked down at you and your glare strengthened.

“Because it’s a stupid event. How was I supposed to know the prince would show up?”

“They were bound to let him out eventually,” Hinata leaned against the counter with a cocky smile and you clenched your fists into the material of your dress.

“I don’t think the prince would have liked you anyway,” Yachi appeared from behind a curtain holding a tray of baked goods, sliding it onto the wooden countertop, “judging by who he chose to spend time with.”

You groaned, planting your forehead onto the wood’s surface. “I’m going to be alone forever.”

“Well, you’re not exactly the kindest to anyone that tries flirting with you…” Yachi raised a dainty brow while transferring cupcakes onto a display.

“That’s because they’re all the worst,” you waved her off. “Anyone my father sets me up with is a snob.”

“I’m impressed you’ve gotten this far,” Hinata commended while overlooking the festival grounds, “that your father has not just married you off already.”

“My mother would never let him,” your nose crinkled at the concept. Regardless how difficult you became you knew that someone would have your back. “You’re lucky, Yachi. You don’t have to worry about this nonsense.”

“I suppose that is true,” Yachi smiled apologetically, holding the tray tightly to her chest and observing her display. There were various pastries-cupcakes, scones, croissants, tarts-lined up and stacked in neat patterns for viewing pleasure. “Does it look okay?

“It looks great,” you grinned.

“Are you sure?” Yachi twisted a few baked goods an unnoticeable amount. “I don’t want to let my family down.”

“They wouldn’t have put you out here if they didn’t think you were ready.” You gave her hand a reassuring squeeze. “Besides, you have me.”

Hinata chuckled before his eyes widened in panic, hand shooting out to grip yours painfully. You whined, trying to pull him off while following his gaze to figure out what could have possibly caused such a reaction-an amused smile grew when you saw prince Kageyama entering the festival grounds.

“Oh, your prince charming has arrived,” you said with a teasing lilt. Hinata glowered at you to which you childishly stuck your tongue out in response.

“I didn’t know he would be here.”

“He surprised you,” Yachi clasped her hands together. “How romantic.”

Hinata whined in despair and you giggled at his misery, and with all the attention the prince was drawing in you had nearly missed the guard that entered the festival with him. He was dressed very casually, walking a languid pace with his hands clasped behind his head-the only thing giving him away was the weapon sheathed at his hip.

Your expression dropped, “he brought a babysitter.”

“You seriously thought they were going to let the prince walk around unprotected?”

Your shoulders slumped at the familiar condescending voice and you side-eyed the pair approaching Yachi’s family’s booth. You welcomed Yamaguchi’s warm smile any day of the week, but Tsukishima could quite frankly never come near you again and you would die happy.

“I just didn’t notice the guard,” you glared at Tsukishima’s belittling smirk. The guard didn’t exactly look anything quality the royal guard had to offer, you observed after giving him further inspection. He looked more like a last minute grab. “He doesn’t look like much protection anyway.”

“Doesn’t look like-” Yamaguchi looked between you and the guard bewildered. “That is the Guardian Deity.”

You blinked several times before your eyes widened in surprise, locking back to the guy following prince Kageyama at a comfortable pace. That was the highest ranking guard in the royal court? You crinkled your nose after giving him another once-over. After all the tales you had heard you had expected the Guardian Deity to be… bigger? More intimidating for sure.

Honestly, based on appearance, you felt like you could handle him in a fight.

“He doesn’t look very scary,” Yachi said, sounding uncertain.

“Why?” Hinata’s cheeks were puffed up in annoyance. “Is it because he’s short? What are you trying to say?”

“I think it’s more because his hair is so stupid,” Tsukishima snickered.

“I don’t think we should be mocking him,” Yamaguchi said warily, shrinking into his shoulders. “I heard he has insane hearing.”

“That sounds made up, Yams” You crossed your arms.

You glanced back at the guard and stiffened when you made direct eye-contact with him, quickly shooting your stare to your lap. Surely that was just a wild coincidence...

You heard Hinata take a shuddering breath beside you before straightening himself out, “alright, I’m going in. Wish me luck.”

A chorus of encouraging words, aside from Tsukishima, rang behind Hinata as he left the safety of your group. You tapped your fingers against the counter, unable to control your nervous jitters as Hinata noticeably stumbled over his opening lines while prince Kageyama smiled down at him-the guard clearly attempting to hold back a laugh.

The Guardian Deity had a bright smile while introducing himself and Hinata seemed to easily relax in the man’s presence, which further added to your skepticism of his identity. He didn’t fit the grand title at all.

“I guess dating a prince will be harder than we realized,” Yachi pressed a hand against her cheek thoughtfully.

“If anyone can do it Hinata can.” Yamaguchi said, reaching for a pastry before Yachi swatted it.

“It’s still unfortunate he can’t embarrass himself in peace,” you frowned, leaning your cheek in your palm while watching the guard do his best to remain straight face.

“I have an idea,” Tsukishima started with a mischievous glint in his eyes. “How about you go and distract the guard?”

“How about I what?”

“Hey, that’s actually not a bad idea,” Yachi added while she swatted Yamaguchi’s hand after another failed attempt at swiping a muffin.

“Are you guys not listening about how that is the Guardian Deity?” Yamaguchi gestured wildly in his direction. “You can’t just waltz over there and distract him, are you crazy?”

“Oh, so you’re saying I can’t do it?” You narrowed your eyes at him and he blinked.

“That is exactly what I just said. Yes.”

Your cheeks puffed up and you stood from your stool. “Highest ranked guard means nothing. This will be easy.”

“(Y/N) this is such a bad idea,” Yamaguchi pleaded as you walked around the stand, brushing the nonexistent dirt off your dress. “You could get in serious trouble.”

“No, she will be completely fine.” Tsukishima waved you off. “You can do it. I have complete faith in you.”

Everyone paused and slowly turned to stare at Tsukishima. Yachi began waving you back to her nervously.

“On second thought I think Yamaguchi is right. This might be a bad idea.” She frowned.

“Too late,” you sighed, pivoting toward the trio wandering around the festival. “I’ve already made up my mind.”

You marched in their direction with Tsukishima’s off putting words of encouragement echoing behind you and felt your heart pounding stronger the closer you got to the group. Once in range you caught Hinata’s confused stare, shifting between you and the guard before a knowing smile formed. You narrowed your eyes into a ‘you-owe-me’ glare and took a calming breath before standing before the Guardian Deity.

He glanced over, doing a double take once he realized you weren’t walking away. You opened your mouth, freezing up once you realized you had confidently marched over with absolutely no game plan. The Guardian Deity raised an eyebrow at your hesitation.

“Uh… hi.” You lamely stumbled out.

“Hello,” his lips quipped into a quick smirk and you felt yourself die a little inside from embarrassment.

“How is the, uh, night-how is your night going?” You clenched your fists. You needed to get yourself together before you went back a failure and gave Tsukishima an actual reason to make fun of you.

“Good,” he crossed his arms and gave you a once-over.

“Great, that’s great.” You rocked on the balls of your feet. “You always want… good nights that is very important.”

He hummed, glancing over your shoulder. “How’s your night?”

“It is a night… for sure.”

“Great. I’d be worried if it was anything else.” His eyes held a hint of amusement and if you weren’t meant to be distracting him you would be more irritated by it. He bowed slightly. “I’m Nishinoya.”

“Oh, (Y/F/N),” you returned the gesture before raising a brow. “No first name Nishinoya?”

“Unfortunately not.”

You hummed, assuming it was classified for some reason or another-likely rank. You briefly wondered what other secrets he had while subtly peeking at where Hinata had been, smirking when you didn’t see him.

You were better at this distracting thing than you thought.

“If you’re looking for your friend he and the prince snuck off to the woods,” Nishinoya threw a thumb over his shoulder. “They’re probably making out or something.”

Your shoulders stiffened and you slowly met his eyes. “You were watching them?”

“Well, that’s my job,” he glanced over your shoulder again. “Yachi and Yamaguchi look pretty impressed with your distraction skills though. Tsukishima just looks mad, but that is supposedly his default.”

Your mouth opened and closed several times before you furrowed your brow. “How do you know their names? What did you-” You covered your mouth in shock. “Oh my god, could you hear us?”

“Hear you?” He cocked his head to the side confused. “No, I had to do a background check on Hinata so Kageyama could come here.”

“Oh,” you mumbled, feeling your face warming. You knew Yamaguchi was just saying stupid rumors. “Wait, does that mean you already knew my name?”

“No,” he said with a mischievous tone. “Even if I did it’s always better hearing it from the original source.”

You gave him a skeptical once-over. “You seem pretty bad at your job Nishinoya if you’re willingly letting the prince out of sight.” You accused and he blinked a few times before a sly smile filled his face.

“And you seem pretty rude for a Lady,” Nishinoya crossed his arms, “trying to flirt with a high-ranking guard to let your friend sneak off with a prince doesn’t fit your family’s status, does it?”

You puffed up your cheeks in annoyance. “Well, flirting with a Lady and letting the prince sneak off seems unprofessional for a high-ranking guard.”

“Except I worked out an agreement ahead of time with prince Kageyama to let him be alone with Hinata,” Nishinoya gestured toward the forest, “and I’ve been keeping an eye on them this whole time, so I am professional, contrary to your opinion.”

You opened your mouth to argue, but fell short, feeling yourself getting flustered. “So, you just let me try to distract you for no reason?”

“I like you distracting me,” he smiled, wiggling his eyebrows. “You should do it more often. It’s fun.”

You scoffed, “not a chance.”

You pivoted around and began stomping away toward your friends when he called after you, “but we barely made it past introductions.”

“I have a feeling you already know more about me than I’d like,” you shot over your shoulder and by the innocent smile he gave back you knew you were right.

“I’ll see you soon.” He waved.

“Don’t count on it,” you called back, pouting when you heard him cackle before you were out of hearing range.

“I knew you could do it!” Yachi cheered when you plopped back down into the stool beside her.

“Yeah,” you looked away with an awkward chuckle. “I told you it would be easy.”

“I don’t believe it. He probably let her do it or something,” Tsukishima rolled his eyes and you sneered at how accurate he was.

“Was he terrifying?” Yamaguchi leaned over the counter inches from your face. “Did he have super hearing? Could he shoot lightning from his sword? How fast were his reflexes? Did he tell you how he got the blonde streak? Could he-”

You pushed his face back and rolled your eyes, “no, Yams. Those were all just rumors. He’s a normal guy.”

Yamaguchi’s shoulders sagged in disappointment at your unfortunate news. You raised a brow at his pout since you never knew Yamaguchi was such a Guardian Deity fanboy.

Your eyes drifted to Nishinoya leaning lazily against a tree trunk near the entrance of the festival, eyes scouring the event. You supposed if all anyone heard were rumors it would be possible to like him, but in reality he was no different than any other guy you’d talked too-annoying and cocky.

As if he could sense your insulting thoughts his eyes flickered in your direction. You held your breath as you locked eyes with his intense amber stare, expression dropping when he relaxed into a cocky smirk. You stuck your tongue out childishly and turned back to Yachi who was helping a customer choose between a cupcake with pink or orange frosting.

You really hoped Nishinoya was wrong. You didn’t want to see him anytime soon.

[holylulusworld]

Chocolate Chip

Summary: A witch. A spell. A guinea pig.

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader; Dean Winchester x Chocolate Chip

Warnings: language, angst, adorable Dean, possessive Dean, I love guinea pigs, so does Dean, fun, fluff

A/N: I had a weird dream after one of my guinea pigs died a few weeks ago. I turned into a gp and Dean took care of me.

Divider by @firefly-graphics​

“SONOFABITCH!” you cry, chasing after the second witch only to feel strange out of the blue. You know the bitch you killed first chanted a spell and that you got hit, but nothing could’ve prepared you for what was about to happen to you. “NO, DEAN!”

“Sweetheart?” Dean gapes at you, eyes widened in surprise or terror – you can’t define his facial reaction right now, too busy to shrink in yourself, feeling your clothes slide off your body until you end up on the ground. “Fuck, Y/N!”

“Dean! Y/N! I got the second witch,” Sam pants, running into the room only to find you in Dean’s hands, well what’s left of you. “A guinea pig? Dean, we don’t have time to play with pets.”

“T-that’s Y/N!” while you look up at Dean, a high-pitched squeal leaves your mouth. You purr rubbing your cheek against his warm hand. “Uh—I think she likes it when I hold her.”

“Wait—What? This can’t be Y/N,” looking at the guinea pig in his brother’s hands Sam furrows his brows. “We don’t have time for bad jokes either, Dean.”

“How shall I name her?” Dean carefully picks your flannel up to wrap you in the warm fabric. “Any suggestions, Sammy?”

“Dean, you can’t give Y/N a new name. We need to find out how the witch turned Y/N,” Sam tuts while his brother carefully presses you to his chest.

“She likes me, look,” while you happily squeak, excited Dean finally gives you the attention you always wanted, Sam sighs deeply. “I will call her Chocolate Chip from now on.”

Looking up at Dean you squeak again, liking the new name. Even though you can’t speak, you want Dean to know you appreciate he cares for you.

“No, you won’t call Y/N like that. Let’s look around the house, maybe I can find a reverse spell or something.”

“She’s so cute. Furry and all,” Dean snickers, but he presses a soft kiss to your head. “We gotta find a way to turn you back into your old self, until then, I’ll take care of you, Chocolate Chip.”

“Okay, we got hay, water, green stuff, and fresh cut grass, Chocolate Chip,” Dean built a compound only for you. It occupies most of the floor in his room, but he doesn’t care. “Look, I got a nice house for you to hide too, sweetheart.”

“Dean, stop talking to Y/N as if she’s a pet,” Sam watches you happily run around the compound, squeaking when you scent the fresh grass Dean cut for you. 

“But she’s so cute,” Dean kneels in front of the compound, watches you chew on the grass. “Can’t I keep her?”

“Y/N is human and guinea pigs live like eight years max! Do you want her to die?” head-snapping toward his brother to meet his gaze Dean tries to push the panic bubbling up back down.

“No, of course not. Lemme just take care of Y/N while you look for a spell,” Dean carefully pats your head, smiling when you purr in response. “Aw, she loves me. Don’t you Chocolate Chip? You love your daddy.”

“That sounded wrong on so many levels,” shuddering Sam looks at you feast on the grass. “I’ll go and check on the next spellbook.”

“That’s my Baby, she purrs like a cat for me, Chocolate Chip,” watching his brother carry you around Sam snickers silently. “Look, there’s Sammy. We like him.”

“Dean, Y/N knows your car and me.”

“You can’t know that Sam. What if the witch stole her memories too?” Dean smirks when you nuzzle in his chest, squeaking when he runs his fingers over your furry back. “Look at my cute little piggie. You can keep on researching while I look for food for her.”

“Maybe we should get her a second guinea pig. I know you should never have only one,” turning around like in slow motion, his eyes narrowed, jaw clenching Dean glares at his brother.

“No other pig will touch my Chocolate Chip! What if you get a guy and he gets her pregnant? We can’t let my girl have their babies!”

“Dean—” laughing Sam looks at you in his brother’s hands. “I didn’t want her to be alone, is all.”

“She’s not alone,” Dean grunts. “Chocolate Chip has me, now take your hands off my guinea pig and find a way to turn her back into a girl…”

“I bet Sammy can turn you back, sweetheart,” looking at you get comfortable on his chest, Dean smiles. “You’ve got a nice nose, Chocolate Chip. I bet you can smell me with it.”

(“Squeak”), lifting your head you try to answer Dean but all you get out is another squeaking sound.

“I get it,” he pats your head, careful to not hurt you. “You can’t understand me right now, but I want you to know that I’ll do anything to protect you. If Sammy can’t find a way to turn you back into a girl, I’ll build you a bigger compound and get you furry friends, promised.”

“Promised?” looking up at Dean you smirk. “I will take you up on that promise, Winchester.”

“Y/N,” Dean gasps, arms immediately wrapping around your body. “Uh—erm,” he clears his throat, tries to not look at you. “You are kinda naked.”

“Yeah, my fur is gone, and you didn’t give me clothes yet, Dean,” pecking his chin you try to purr one last time. “You took good care of me. Thank you, Dean.”

“Anytime, sweetheart,” he swallows thickly, looks down at you one last time before he stretches one arm to reach the abandoned flannel on his bed. “I’ll get you something to wear, Y/N. We don’t want Sammy to spy on you.”

“Aw, you’re still taking good care of me,” you sigh happily, head resting against Dean’s shoulder. “By the way, I understood every word, Dean…”

“Three?” eying the guinea pigs you got for Dean said hunter smirks. “How’d you wanna name them, sweetheart?”

“Uh—the one over there is a guy, but don’t worry,” whispering the male guinea pig got castrated you smirk when Dean sighs deeply. “We don’t want them to get pregnant Dean.”

“Poor guy,” Dean looks at the male pet, shaking his head lightly. “I’ll name you Impala, buddy. I think that’s a great name for a brave pig.”

“What about the girls? We could name one Chocolate Chip?” 

“No, that’s your name, Y/N. I will name one Pie and the other Burger,” you chortle, even snort a little but Dean ignores your outburst while feeding the little pets. “Look, they like my food.”

“Yeah, they like you, Dean,” taking Dean’s hand you squeeze it tightly. “Just like me—”

“I know you like me, sweetheart,” snickering Dean wraps one arm around your shoulders, still watching the guinea pigs. “Me, my food, and that I’ll always take care of you. My sweet little Chocolate Chip…”

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[tsunderedoctor]

hiii,

I would like to ask for a ficlet with Sabo and female s/o. Modern AU, Sabo is studying law and his s/o is studying to become a teacher. After a few weeks official dating, obviously they met at the library studying and ... (Feel free to decide how it continued), he invited her to meet his brothers Ace and Luffy. They invited her... Somehow she ends up cooking before they set the whole kitchen in fire. Some fun talk. Fluffy.

Thank you so much!(◍•ᴗ•◍)💛

Ps: I really love your work!

I love me some ASL Bros! ❤️❤️

Fluff down below!

Word Count: 1k+

It was their first study date and ____ wanted to look her best. She knew Sabo didn't care how she looked, but she still couldn't help but want to surprise him in something cute. Making sure she had all her textbooks and materials she made her way to their university's library. Upon arriving she saw the blond waiting patiently on his phone, she smiled and tapped his shoulder lightly breaking him out of his world.

"Hey you made it!" He smiled brightly at ____ and finished his text before putting his phone in his back pocket. As they made their way inside the building Sabo looked around for an empty table and found one on the far right corner next to a window. "Wanna sit there?"

Seeing where he pointed to ____ nodded and headed over, dropping off her parcel bag as she made herself comfortable. Sabo got his laptop out and sat next to her. "I might be going to school for law, but I could still totally help you if you need it."

____ smiled at his kind words and shook her head. "You got your own full plate buddy, don't be taking more than you can eat."

Laughing at her advice, Sabo nodded before getting ready to take his practice test.

After a few minutes; Sabo's phone began to vibrate. Looking at it the blond sighed before answering. ____ smiled, having an idea on who the senders were. Sabo had two brothers who liked to stay in touch over the years, one was in high school finishing his last year and the other was the same age as Sabo, but decided school wasn't meant for him. She only saw photos he showed her, but she knew the three boys were close. "They wishing you luck?"

Sabo rolled his eyes at her ability to know who it was. He smiled softly as put the phone down. "Not exactly, they are demanding I introduce you guys."

Hearing that took ____ aback, they wanted to meet her?! She looked down at her textbook as she thought what that would be like, would they like her? Accept her in their family?

Seeing her look a bit unsure, Sabo placed his hand on her shoulder. "Hey don't worry about it, if you aren't ready I'll tell them to mind their business."

____ smiled at his words, but shook her head. "No I wanna meet them, who knows maybe they can tell me embarrassing stories about you~"

Sabo laughed and shrugged. "Only if I can tell embarrassing stories about them too."

...

They agreed to meet up at Ace's apartment he shares with Luffy on Saturday. Sabo was going to pick her up and the two would head over around 6:00. Ace stated he would cook, but upon hearing that Sabo suggested they bring something as well, just in case if the pyromaniac got too happy with the cooking. ____ wasn't sure anymore if she wanted to try his cooking after hearing that-

The two arrived and Sabo carried an apple pie while ____ brought some sodas. Ringing the doorbell, Sabo held ____ in a reassuring grip reminding her it was going to be okay.

Opening the door ____ was meant with the youngest brother, Luffy. She smiled as he stared at them with a wide grin. "Yay you brought food! I thought I was gonna starve to death!"

"Shut up Luffy!"

____ figured that must be Ace as the two were allowed in and sat their things on the four seater dining table. The apartment was cozy and she could tell two guys definitely lived her, but it was still nice and had this welcoming vibe to it. "Is there anything you need help with Ace?"

Ace turned to face ____ and smiled brightly. "Nah these two are just being overdramatic!"

"Oi, Ace you better quit yapping and pay attention, you're gonna burn my meat." Luffy huffed annoyed as Ace turned back around to check on the meat.

Sabo told Luffy to show him where the dishware was and ushered the boy to get the silverware as the two set to getting the table together. ____ headed over and looked around what Ace was cooking. "I'll cut the vegetables if you would like."

Ace smiled at her kindness and nodded. "Yeah sure, the damn onions always make my eyes water and Luffy thinks I'm crying, stupid brat never lets it go."

____ laughed and began to get to work helping the brunet add the spices and vegetables into the meat. By the time the other two males finished the vegetables were almost done.

Surprisingly the food ended up well and Ace looked triumphed at the success. "You're not so bad ____, don't let Sabo find out you can cook good or he will be begging for you to cook all the time!"

Sabo snickered and smacked the brunet's head. "I would only beg because it would taste different than your burnt food."

Grumbling at his quick remark Ace walked to the table and placed the food in the center. "Serve yourselves before Luffy gets it all."

The others came and set, ____ smiled as Luffy began huffing down the food. "This is great ____!"

"Oi talk with no food in your mouth heathen, you act like we haven't taught your ass manners."

Luffy took a large drink of his soda before talking again. "Oh right, I just got so excited I couldn't help it.!"

Dinner went well in ____ opinion. Since Ace and ____ cooked Sabo and Luffy cleaned up and did the dishes. As the brunet and the young woman sat in the living room looking for a movie to play, the brunet eyed her before speaking.

"You're good for him, just promise me you won't hurt him okay? I don't think he can handle another heartbreak."

Hearing this made ____ remember when Sabo expressed his want for being a lawyer; to prevent child abuse and neglect. He was mistreated by his parents and it broke the boy and caused lots of insecurities growing up. She turned to face Ace with a look of seriousness and softness he couldn't describe. "I promise, the last thing I want to do is hurt Sabo."

Ace smiled believing her words and turned back to the t.v. "Sure, how about this one? Heard this was a popular anime back in Japan, some pirate show."

"Yeah, sounds good to me."

[bumblesimagines]

Vlad and Axsel

Request: Yes or No

~

"Thanks again, Ms. Franks!" (Y/N) called over his shoulder, leaving the store. He sipped on his slushie, heading over to his jeep. He heard shouting, turning his head and seeing John B flying over a chain.

"Oh, fuck." (Y/N) jogged over, laughing. "Hey, are you okay?" He asked, trying to hold back his snickers. John B grunted, looking at his side. (Y/N) followed his gaze, seeing the blood.

"Oh, shit. Come on, let's get you fixed up." (Y/N) said, helping him up and taking him to his car. John B made the seat move back.

"Is there a woman and a man who look like No Neck Ed and Rose from that one show?" John B asked.

"You mean 90 day fiancé?" (Y/N) furrowed his brows, looking at the spot they had previously been at.

"Yep. There's Walmart budget Rose and the taller version of No Neck Ed." (Y/N) looked at him, nodding.

"Fucking drive." John B ushered. (Y/N) put his slushie and bag of cheetos down, getting his seatbelt on and driving away.

"What's up with you? Why are you running from the cops?" (Y/N) asked. John B moved the seat back to normal.

"It's, uh, long story." John B replied, reaching for a cheeto. (Y/N) smacked his hand.

"Ask first and say please." (Y/N) huffed. "No manners."

"Can I please have a cheeto?" John B asked. (Y/N) gave a nod. "Yes, you can, John B."

"You know my name?" John B asked, brows raising. He didn't expect it. Then again, he didn't expect Topper's fraternal twin to help him either. (Y/N) nodded.

"Your friend put a gun to my brothers head." He shrugged. John B blinked, watching him. (Y/N) noticed.

"Oh, don't get me wrong, I was scared for his life but he was a douchebag. He needed a nice slice of humble pie." (Y/N) shrugged. "Even though he threw it back up." He shook his head.

"Huh.." John B blinked. He never expected (Y/N) Thornton, the fraternal twin of the entitled Topper Thornton, to help him and not blame his friends for the fiasco from the days prior.

"Make a turn here."

"Sure thing, boss." (Y/N) turned a corner, stopping and watching John B get out of the car, running off and picking something off the ground. John B returned, getting in. (Y/N) drove to Figure Eight, driving to his place.

"Woah, if Topper or your mom see me-"

"Mom is out and Topper is hanging out with Sarah's bitchy brother." (Y/N) said, getting out the car with him and heading inside. (Y/N) led him to an empty room, getting a first aid kit and started to clean his injury. John B hissed, pouting and huffing.

"Big baby." (Y/N) mumbled, grinning. John B met his gaze, taking in his features. (Y/N) was obviously the hotter twin, personality and appearance wise. At least, in John B's mind he was. He and (Y/N) never really spoke, occasionally bumping into each other back when John B worked for Ward. (Y/N) and Sarah were close, practically attached at the hip. John B was surprised when Topper was the one who ended up with Sarah.

"Quick question."

"Hm?"

"Why aren't you and Sarah a thing?" John B asked, eyes raking over (Y/N)'s features. (Y/N) snorted, putting everything away.

"I don't know.. Maybe cause she's dating my brother and I don't like girls?" (Y/N) stared at him. John B blinked, sitting up.

"Y-you like guys? L-Like, you're-"

"Gay." (Y/N) nodded. "Is there a problem with that?"

"N-No! Of course not! I-I'm bisexual." John B quickly cleared up. (Y/N) hummed and nodded.

"Okay.. Need me to drop you off anywhere? A friends house?" (Y/N) tilted his head. John B licked his lips.

"The Wreck." He replied. (Y/N) hummed and nodded, getting up. As they walked down a hallway, John B paused, looking at a painting. (Y/N) noticed and turned, looking at him.

"What's up?" He asked. "Interested in Denmark Tanny?"

"Who?"

"He's the founder of Tannyhill." (Y/N) shrugged, slowly approaching him and looking at the painting.

"How did a slave found a cotton plantation?" John B asked, looking at him. He didn't know why but he just couldn't shake the feeling that the painting was connected to him.

"Cause he was a free man. He showed up out of nowhere and paid for all the land in gold." (Y/N) told him. "There's your history lesson of the day."

"In gold?" John B looked at the painting. He took off his backpack, checking inside and taking out a piece of paper. "Why do I recognise that name?" John B flipped the paper over.

"He.. He was on the Royal Merchant." John B mumbled. (Y/N) furrowed his brows.

"The ship that disappeared and left no survivors?" (Y/N) questioned. John B nodded.

"What else do you know about him?" John B asked. (Y/N) shrugged.

"Sarah mentioned that when she and her family moved in they found a shitload of his stuff and they donated it to the state archives at Chapel Hill." (Y/N) replied, staring at him.

"Change of plans, I need to go to Chapel Hill." John B said, passing by him. (Y/N) blinked, turning and following him.

"Why?" he asked, getting in the jeep with him.

"Can't say. I need to get into the archives. How can I get in?"

"Sarah gave me a trustee pass cause she said she wouldn't be interested in that type of stuff." (Y/N) shrugged, looking at him.

"Can I borrow the pass?" John B asked.

"Like you borrowed the scuba gear from Ward?" (Y/N) tilted his head. John B licked his lips, sighing.

"Sarah got mad at you and ranted to me about it. She didn't snitch on you to Ward.. It was Topper." (Y/N) told him. "Topper's the only snitch in the family."

"Okay, the less you know the better. I need you to trust me." John B said, a bit desperately.

"No can do, macho man. I can, however, go with you to Chapel Hill."

"No-"

"It's settled, baby boy. I'm going with you." (Y/N) grinned, turning the jeep on and driving away. John B ignored the fluttery feeling in his stomach. hey got to the port and got out, (Y/N) grabbing the backpack he had in the backseat. They headed to where the ferry tickets were sold but saw that they were sold out. John B jogged over, asking if they were sold out but was brushed off.

"Goddamn it." John B mumbled. (Y/N) turned his head, looking at a tugboat. John B grabbed his hand, pulling him along.

"Ever been in a tugboat?" John B asked. (Y/N) furrowed his brows.

"No?"

"Okay, we're gonna talk our way onto this barge. I got this. These are my people." John B said. (Y/N) hummed, nodding.

"Alright, boss." (Y/N) watched him walk away. He watched them talk from a distance, giving an amused grin when John B was shot down. John B returned.

"Your people, huh? They must really love you." (Y/N) chuckled. John B rolled his eyes.

"Got anything better?"

"Of course, baby boy. I'm the brains and Topper is... Topper." (Y/N) scanned the barge and hummed, grabbing his wrist and tugging him along. He grabbed some raincoats, picking up an empty tank and nodding to John B. John B went along with it, following him past the guy he had been talking to. They put the tanks down, heading down some steps and into the engine room. John B pulled him towards another room, closing the door. The boat started moving. They took a seat, feeling the room start to heat up. They took the coats and backpacks off, sitting down.

"Shit." (Y/N) mumbled, fancing himself. John B chuckled. (Y/N) took off his shirt, hoping it would help with the heat. John B eyed him before doing the same.

"Well.. Wanna play a game? 20 questions?" (Y/N) asked. John B shrugged.

"You go first." (Y/N) wiped some sweat off his forehead.

"Why did you kill Dimitri?" John B asked in an accent. (Y/N) grinned, looking at him.

"He knew too much." He replied in a Russian accent. "He was a, eh, liability." (Y/N) shrugged.

"Yes, you know, we all know too much, eventually." John B grinned. (Y/N) chuckled.

"Alright.. What are you looking for? Like, why the archives?" (Y/N) looked at him. John B looked away.

"Those are two questions." He mumbled. (Y/N) rolled his eyes.

"But.. I can't tell you."

"Why?"

"Safety reason." John B glanced at him. "I don't want you to get hurt."

"Does it have to do with your dad?" (Y/N) asked. John B stayed silent. (Y/N) frowned.

"I'm sorry that.. He just disappeared. I can't even imagine how I would feel. You know.. I'm always around if you want to rant or sit in silence. We aren't the best of friends but I can promise you, I won't go around spilling secrets." (Y/N) said. John B looked at him, sighing softly.

"Thank you.. I'll.. I'll keep it in mind." He nodded.

"And.. I'm sorry about Topper too. He's.. He's obsessed with having the perfect girlfriend and saw you as a threat. He's not a bad person. Yes, he makes stupid mistakes but.. He cares about his friends and family. He was different before he became friends with Rafe. Rafe is just such a bad fucking influence. Topper knew I was gay before my parents knew. He helped me keep it a secret until I couldn't hold it in anymore. He was devastated cause he thought I would get kicked out and he would be alone but.. I was accepted.. I guess. They just kind of ignore me until they can't." (Y/N) shrugged, looking at him. John B hummed.

"My dad knew before I did." John B smiled. "He said I stared at a lot of his shirtless friends."

"I did that too. I used to have a crush on JJ, actually." (Y/N) chuckled softly. "I don't anymore." He assured. John B ignored the jealously that spiked through him.

"Don't worry. You weren't the only one." John B sat up. He looked at (Y/N).

"I think my dad is alive.. Or at least.. Calling out to me through this weird way. Kind of like whales. You know how they communicate through these soundwaves, right? It's like that." John B told him. (Y/N) hummed.

"I.. I cannot let feelings interfere with the mission." John B said, using the accent again.

"Very true, comrade." (Y/N) nodded. John B sighed, laying back and closing his eyes. (Y/N) turned his head, looking at him. He had always found John B attractive. From his hair to his freckles to his loyalty. (Y/N) licked his lips, looking away. He never thought badly about The Pogues. Kooks were usually the ones who started the fights. (Y/N) sighed softly, laying back as well and waiting. The boat eventually started slowing down so (Y/N) nudged John B. The two put their shirts and coats back on as the boat stopped. They put their backpacks on.

"On a count of three. One... Two... Three!" John B grabbed (Y/N)'s hand, opening the door. The two made a run for it, running from a man yelling in chinese. They dodged people, laughing all the way. They slowed down and began walking, giggling.

"Jesus.. We look like shit." (Y/N) said, panting. "We're gonna have to shop for clothes." he said.

"Why?"

"They won't let us in if we look like swamp monsters." (Y/N) replied. John B hummed. They headed into the city, taking off the coats and letting the breezes and light rain refresh them.

"This place looks fancy." (Y/N) mumbled, pulling John B toward it.

"Absolutely not-"

"Absolutely yes." (Y/N) grinned, stepping inside.

"This is like an organ with the wrong blood type. It doesn't work." John B said. (Y/N) rolled his eyes.

"Relax, baby boy. I'm here to help you find your style." (Y/N) chuckled. He looked over some stuff until a man approached them.

"May I help you?"

"Yes, you may, Mr..?" (Y/N) flashed a charming smile.

"Mr. Ike." He gave a nod.

"(Y/N). My... My boyfriend, Jonathan, needs all the help he can get." (Y/N) said. Mr. Ike looked John B up and down.

"I can see that." Mr. Ike mumbled. (Y/N) chuckled. They were led to the changing room where Mr. Ike got some things for John B. John B stepped into the changing room. (Y/N) sat down after grabbing some sunglasses and putting them on, glancing around until the door opened.

"Wow, middle school dance who?" (Y/N) chuckled, looking over the tucked in button up shirt with red bowtie.

"I look like I got kicked out of the barbershop quartet." John B said, looking at him.

"How about a seersucker, Mr. Ike?" (Y/N) looked at Mr. Ike.

"What the hell is that?"

"Excellent choice." Mr. Ike nodded.

"And maybe a pink button-down, some bucks?" (Y/N) grinned.

"You're speaking gibberish. What the hell is a buck?" John B asked.

"I'll get a pair." Mr. Ike nodded, walking away. John B looked at (Y/N).

"I'm your daddy for the day." (Y/N) chuckled. John B rolled his eyes, entering the changing room. Mr. Ike returned with the clothes, giving them to John B. He excused himself to help other costumers. (Y/N) noticed that John B was staying a while and stood, knocking.

"Did you go to Narnia or something?" (Y/N) asked, opening the door and seeing John B in only his underwear. John B pulled the pants up and huffed as (Y/N) laughed.

"Were you seriously checking yourself out, John B. Routledge? Never took you as the type." (Y/N) leaned against the doorway.

"Don't blame you. I'd check myself out if I were you too." (Y/N) said, stepping back and closing the door. John B blinked, looking at himself in the mirror. (Y/N) had basically called him hot. John B got dressed and stepped out.

"Zipper." (Y/N) called. John B looked down and pulled his zipper up. (Y/N) hummed and nodded.

"You look.. Decent." (Y/N) stood and approached him. "As decent as a clown can get." (Y/N) grinned.

"Ooh, ouch. Nice one." John B chuckled. Mr. Ike returned and John B told him what he would like to see. (Y/N) got dressed and stepped out. John B snorted, looking at the black pants, suspenders, gray shirt, bowtie, and fedora.

"So, who's your daddy now?"

"A man of culture, I see." (Y/N) hummed. John B shrugged.

"I knew a kid who dressed like this every day during middle school." (Y/N) said, looking at himself in the mirror.

"I'm pretty sure we all did." John B chuckled. (Y/N) went back into the changing room, changing into a couple outfits until he chose one he liked. He stepped out, smiling. He wore a dark blue shirt that had about three or four buttons undone. The shirt was tucked into black pants. John B swallowed, looking him over.

"Uhm.. Y-You look great." John B said. (Y/N) hummed.

"Since we're on a secret mission.. We should assume another identity." (Y/N) said, crossing his arms.

"We need aliases. What are you thinkin'?" John B asked. (Y/N) tapped his chin, pretending to think.

"Vlad.. From... Vienna." (Y/N) said, shrugging.

"What about me?" (Y/N) tilted his head. John B mimicked his previous position.

"Axsel from Berlin." John B replied. (Y/N) raised his brows.

"Axsel fra Berlin?" (Y/N) grinned. John B nodded.

"Ja." He stuck his hands in his pockets. "Du snakker norsk?"

"Ja. Hvor mye vet du?" (Y/N) tilted his head. John B licked his lips.

"That's all I know." John B chuckled. (Y/N) smiled, patting his chest.

"You're better good." (Y/N) turned, picking up his backpack and leaving. John B followed him. (Y/N) paid for their clothes, walking out of the store and heading down the sidewalk.

"Come on, they aren't open all night." (Y/N) said. John B hummed, walking beside him.

"So, are Vlad and Axsel dating?" John B asked. (Y/N) cocked a brow, glancing at him.

"Feelings can't interfere with the mission." (Y/N) reminded him. John B nodded, looking forward. The sky began to darken, turning to night. They got an uber, not wanting to walk all the way there. (Y/N) paid and they got out.

"The library is on the other side of the student center. Ever been here?" (Y/N) looked at him. John B shook his head.

"Uh, no. Never been to a college." He replied.

"Hm, you didn't fulfill your training, huh? Liking it so far?" (Y/N) asked. John B nodded.

"Well, my parents went here and so did their parents and their parents as well." (Y/N) told him. "Sarah's dad came here too."

"Damn."

"Yeah.. My mom would kill me and Topper if we didn't go here." (Y/N) sighed.

"And you?"

"I've never really thought about going to college." John B replied as (Y/N) took out his ringing phone. 'Topper' was the contact.

"Uh-oh." (Y/N) showed him the contact, grinning.

"What would he think if he knew you were here with me?" John B grinned as (Y/N) chuckled.

"I'd have a public execution. My crime? Treason." (Y/N) replied. John B gasped softly.

"For being a Pogue sympathizer?"

"Mhm."

"Oh, oh my goodness." John B made the phone motion with his hand. (Y/N) did the same.

"You've gotta be careful fraternizing with the enemy, Axsel." John B said.

"Wait a minute. Did he kidnap you? Or drug you?" John B asked. (Y/N) let a smile slip.

"Nei, I came on my own recognizance." (Y/N) giggled.

"Oh. Do we know this enemy?"

"Ja. You snitched on him to the Big Boss."

"Oh, no, no. It's not that dirty Pogue, is it?"

"He is not what you think." (Y/N) shook his head lightly.

"Goodness gracious, he's working some good psyops on you, Ax." John B scratched his forehead. "He's a smooth operator."

"He really isn't." (Y/N) laughed as John B pretended to hang up the phone.

"He's really clumsy, randomly does finger guns.. And.. He seems to be too shy to make a move." (Y/N) smiled. John B lightly flushed, teeth catching his bottom lip.

"Come on." (Y/N) smiled. "Better be careful, Axsel. Once a Pogue, always a Pogue." They entered Chapel Hill, going up some steps.

"20 questions-"

"Again?"

"-Why are we here?" (Y/N) looked at him.

"The price of the ticket is intel. Tell me." (Y/N) stopped and faced him. John B sighed.

"Alright.. On pain of death?"

"Mhm."

"I'm on a treasure hunt." John B told him. (Y/N) blinked, staring at him.

"Like.. X marks the spot?" (Y/N) asked.

"More or less. I have reason to believe that Denmark Tanny was the sole survivor of the Royal Merchant wreck." John B said. (Y/N) blinked, brows furrowing.

"Which is why he had all that gold? Cause he ran, or probably swam, away with it?" John B nodded. (Y/N)'s lips parted.

"So.. The 'map' to that treasure is one of his belongings." (Y/N) mumbled. John B nodded.

"I'll go talk to the librarian." (Y/N) walked away. John B let out a sigh of relief, glad (Y/N) believed him. The librarian led them to another room, showing them up the stairs and getting all of the belongings.

"Ready?" (Y/N) asked, looking at him.

"Ready." John B smiled. They put on gloves and started looking through everything, trying to find clues or hints.

"He bought slaves and freed them. He was accused of inciting revolt.. This was before the Civil War." (Y/N) told him, looking away from the news article he had been reading.

"It's why they hanged him." John B picked up a Bible, opening it and reading the names and birthdays.

"His three sons." (Y/N) mumbled. John B picked up another paper.

"A picture of gold." (Y/N) hummed.

"British gold.. The type that was on the Merchant." John B glanced at (Y/N), smiling. They continued to look.

"This is his last correspondence." (Y/N) said, showing him the letter.

"That's.. That's in Gullah, the lost Creole language." John B pointed out. (Y/N) glanced at him.

"Know anyone that can read it?" (Y/N) asked. John B nodded, taking a picture. (Y/N) looked it over.

"He wrote this to Robert, his son, on the day he died.. In a language only they could understand." (Y/N) leaned back in his seat.

"That has to mean something." John B mumbled. (Y/N) nodded.

"I have fifteen missed calls from Topper.. Three from mom." (Y/N) told him, chuckling softly. "Good thing we completed the mission. Make my funeral lit, will ya?"

"Yeah, of course. Drinks for everybody." They shared a laugh. John B cleared his throat.

"Speaking of the mission.. You're way better than I expected." John B said, a bit shyly. (Y/N) smiled.

"You're not what I expected either." (Y/N) chuckled. John B faked being shocked.

"Totally ADD. I thought you were this surfer bro who liked to party, smoke weed, and fight."

"You just described JJ."

"Yeah, I realized it as I said it." (Y/N) chuckled, smiling.

"But.. You're actually super funny, bit of a weirdo... Pretty charming." (Y/N) looked at him. John B licked his lips, giving a small nod.

"So.. When we get back.. What's it gonna be like?" John B asked, anxiously waiting for an answer. (Y/N) licked his lips.

"Uhm.. Like always?" (Y/N) said, shrugging as John B nodded.

"I'll go back to being Topper's gay twin brother who breaks up fights and has no friends other than Sarah Cameron." (Y/N) shrugged. "I had loads of fun." (Y/N) assured, patting his thigh. John B offered a small smile.

"I did too." He looked forward. It started to rain as the ferry got back. They got off, walking in the rain.

"Guess we'll have to say goodbye to Vlad and Axsel. So, if we see each other on the street-"

"Yes, of course. I am a true professional." John B grinned, using the accent again. (Y/N) smiled and nodded.

"Been a pleasure working with you, comrade." (Y/N) stuck his hand out. John B took it, slowly shaking it. John B didn't let go when (Y/N) went to pull his hand back.

"I have something to confess." John B said.

"You didn't kill someone, did you?" (Y/N) asked. John B snorted and shook his head.

"I.. I've been in love with you since the day I started working for Ward. You were always kind to me, even when Topper got annoyed at you for it. You never insulted me or any Pogue. You were considerate and always greeted us with only kind words. I love that you don't care about rich or poor and you just see people for who they are. If you don't want anything to do with me from now on, I'll be fine with it. I had the greatest day of my life and I spent it with my longtime crush. I-" John B was cut off by (Y/N) leaning forward and kissing him, arms wrapping around him. John B stumbled back a bit but kissed him back, tension and anxiety leaving his body. (Y/N) gently cupped his face.

"I want this too.."

[oftenderweapons]

Apple of my pie (2) — Jin

A Small Town Swoons story

Chapter 2.

Pairing: Kim Seokjin x reader (nicknamed Buttercup)

Wordcount: 3.0k

Genre: non-idol!AU, Baker/Café owner!Seokjin, University student!reader Flatmates!AU, Friends To Lovers, Fluff, slightest angst

Rating: suggested 18+ (there are brief apparitions of dirty thoughts, also future episodes will contain NSFW material); 

A/N: Hello my sweet poppies! Welcome to the Small Town Swoon Universe! 🥰✨

In this episode: Jin goes on his first date with Grace, who is actually a sweet person. However, during the date, he casually meets a friend who is more than capable of making him open his eyes. Meanwhile, Buttercup remembers exactly why they’re friends. The following day, the young woman faces a challenging conversation with her classmate and friend, Lara — who is also Jin’s assistant at the bakery. 

TRIGGER WARNINGS: Sweet date; some angst between friends (Yoongi, the psychiatrist who always cuts too deep when he speaks his mind). Meet Yoongi and his sweet and horny girlfriend, Spice. Lots of swearing, especially from Lara and Buttercup towards the end. Dirty thoughts, mentions of wet dreams, playful bickering and name calling between Buttercup and Lara. There are a couple very painful references to Severus Snape and Lily Potter (lowkey Harry Potter spoilers, just in case).

Remember to vote for next prompt (check the link in my bio) and in case you need it, here’s my masterlist 💜

In case you need it, here is the music companion (Spotify only, sorry 😔)

Enjoy! ✨💜

Navi: Chapter 1 — Chapter 2 — Chapter 3 — Chapter 4 — Chapter 5 — Chapter 6 — Chapter 7 (7/7)

Sitting at the pizza shack near the university campus, Seokjin realised that Grace wasn’t a plain human being.

She was actually cute and funny. He could see himself with someone like this.

Someone who didn’t make him feel dull and a bit of an understudy.

Grace liked puppies. She was at her last year of vet school, she was interning at the local animal clinic and she had spent all day visiting pregnant cows. She hoped she could assist to at least one birth, even though the first expected date of delivery was a couple days after her internship formally ended.

Jin grinned as he listened, genuinely warmed by her caring ways and her childlike laugh. Her name really did fit her. She had a gap between her front teeth and a very sweet dimple that made him grin each time it appeared. Small, a little soft in all the best ways — and best places, he had unwillingly noted — and terribly endearing.

The date wasn’t bad. At all.

And it was way more than decent. Almost too good for being a first date.

No misunderstandings, no embarrassment, no shyness whatsoever. The pizza was good — not as good as his, but it was an eight out of ten, solid — there had been no accidents of choking on drinks or on food, no talking while having mouths full, no uncomfortable flutters in his heart as he looked at her. It was warm. It all felt warm.

However, the more time went by, the more he realised that a few things were missing,

Like you, humming at how good the food was, making jokes about unsuspecting patrons sitting around you, people watching, building impossible scenarios and stories about specific clients, basing yourself on stolen snippets of their conversations.

The strident chord was the sudden appearance of a familiar face. Actually two of them, one slightly less familiar than the other.

“Seokjin?” The very familiar face called.

He turned. “Hello Yoongi!” He greeted with a smile and a small wave. “Hello Spice!” He said, turning to the woman at his side, his hand laced with hers.

“Where’s Buttercup?” Yoongi asked, before he turned and spotted a woman sitting before his friend.

That was not you. Yoongi turned to Seokjin and eyed him suspiciously, making sure that Jin’s table companion didn’t notice.

“Guys, this is Grace.” He introduced the girl.

Spice looked at Yoongi with a meaningful look before turning to the young woman.

“Nice to meet you, Grace.” She said warmly.

Grace blushed. “Nice to meet you too, guys,” she replied with a soft smile.

“We’ll leave you to your night, he seems to be enjoying your company, Grace.” Yoongi said politely, before turning to Seokjin. “I’ll talk to you soon.”

Seokjin’s ears blushed. He felt ashamed, “Sure. Have a good evening,” he said, bidding his friends goodbye.

“To you too,” Spice said it’s a tight smile.

The two left, moving like one, perfect as always.

Seokjin knew how that felt. That’s how he always moved with you.

“They seem good people.” Grace noted, genuinely kind, as she had been all dinner long.

“They are.” Seokjin agreed. “And they’re smart too.” He said, beginning to worry for himself.

You weren’t in the living room when Seokjin arrived at the apartment. He was glad. He was glad he could have a few minutes to rethink about how Grace had stretched to her tiptoes with her hands laced behind her back and had placed a playful peck on his cheek before wishing him goodnight and dashing upstairs.

He was glad he wouldn’t need to confront you. And from the sounds coming from your bedroom, you were very likely watching one of those dramas and films you loved so much. Once more, he was glad.

However, that small peace lasted little.

His phone buzzed in his pocket. He exhaled and picked it up.

Is Pollyanna still around?

Yoongi wrote. Seokjin shook his head in hopelessness.

I’ve just arrived home.

Yoongi called immediately. Seokjin hid into his room. “So you decided to follow Namjoon’s way?”

“I have to save myself. I can’t stand there forever, hoping for her to notice. Or to care.”

“You decided to follow the advice of a miserable man abandoned by the highschool sweetheart rather than that of other four sane men who told you to talk to her?” Yoongi said, raising his voice.

“You never said your opinion.” Seokjin noted.

“You don’t need my opinion. You didn’t care about anyone’s opinion. You had already made up your mind even before the discourse started.”

Seokjin exhaled, exasperated.

“Can’t you just say it?”

“What?” Yoongi snorted. Hearing his frustration, Spice rubbed his back trying to calm him down. He nuzzled into her warmth.

“Just say what you think for once in your life.”

Spice frowned at Seokjin’s voice blasting from Yoongi’s phone. He patted her head.

Yoongi huffed. “Fine. I think Buttercup deserves to know and choose for herself. I think she does care, no matter what you think. Also, all that self convincing you’re trying to do is just you trying to keep yourself from losing something that makes you feel comfortable. Because after all you’re comfortable, aren’t you? You just drown yourself in her so much that you don’t even have to face yourself and what you want. And we both know Pollyanna is not what you want.”

Seokjin frowned and pouted. He already knew he was being childish.

“This silence is precisely why I don’t state my opinion.” Yoongi said, speaking softly when he noticed Spice had closed his eyes beside him, on the pillow next to his. He smiled and looked at how beautiful she is. He cupped her cheek, brushing her hair off her face.

“Yoongi. I can’t go on like this forever.” Seokjin said, his voice hopeless and tired.

“I know. All I’m saying is… you should tell Buttercup first.” Yoongi replied, his voice more comprehensive and gentle.

“I am such a coward.” Jin whispered, sitting on the bed, combing his hair with his free hand.

“Listen. I know Buttercup is to you what Spice is to me. I know it.” Yoongi said, his girlfriend scooting closer to him and pressing her face to his chest. “I know I would give her anything she asks and do anything to stay as close as she allows me.” He petted her hair while her warm fingertips danced on his spine.

Seokjin shut his eyes tight. “I’m just trying to get as much as I can before they take her from me.”

“No one will ever break your bond except your lack of communication. Someday a brilliant, smart man will come along and realise how damn precious she is and snatch her for himself. All you’ll have left will be possibilities and smoky dreams.” Yoongi took a pause. “You guys are amazing. You are borderline disgusting with the amount of private stuff you know about each other. Tell her.” Yoongi said, smiling and closing his eyes once Spice’s lips tickled his throat.

“I’ll try.” Seokjin replied. “Goodnight doctor.”

“Goodnight, lover boy. Try not to have wet dreams of your flatmate.”

“Don’t you have better things to do? I bet your girlfriend keeps a list.” Jin said, biting back.

Spice’s voice rose in the background. “Jin is almost right. However, why be doing things when you could be doing me?”

Jin blushed and snickered. “Goodnight, lover boy.” He quipped before shutting the call.

Yoongi placed down his phone, then shook his head and chuckled. “Doing you, uh?”

Spice licked her lips and closed the light before she bent to his neck. “You’d better provide, Min.” She warned before he pounced on her with an ecstatic grin.

Seokjin went to grab a glass of water sometime around one a.m., quite unusually. His routine is basic: he falls asleep at ten thirty and wakes up at four thirty, showers, dresses and runs to the shop. He starts the ovens and by six fifteen the first morning batch is ready.

But that night for some reason, he woke up. He stood up. He reached the kitchen.

Maybe it was because his sleep had been fitful. Maybe because all he had been thinking about was you. You and how it would have been like to be on a date with you, what you were like on a date, if you would have kissed him goodbye on his cheek, if you would have invited him up, had you been in Grace’s shoes, hadn’t the two of you been flatmates.

First he noticed that the fridge was open. Next he noticed you, in thick flannel pjs and a tank top. You were sniffling and drying your eyes, filling your mouth with the leftovers from breakfast.

“What happened?” He asked, spying on you.

You stood up straight, his face appearing in the dim, yellow glow of the fridge.

“His patronus was a doe.” You said, your lip wobbly, cheeks still wet with tears, filling your mouth with chocolate pudding.

He rose from his position slowly, raising his head from his arms, once crossed on top of the fridge door.

Why are his shoulders are always so damn big? What’s the use of all of that… wingspan — ? — when your kitchen is so tiny? And when he needs to move in the narrow lanes of the bakery? What is he so big for?

As you watched him turn on his side, trying no to hit the fridge or the counter as he stood behind you and hugged you close.

“After all that time.” You murmured.

Seokjin held you closer as you turned around. That’s why he was so big. All those good bear hugs.

“I know.” He replied, one arm snaked around your waist, the other wrapped around your shoulders and head while his hand patted your head. “I know,” he repeated as you hiccuped and sobbed. Of course he knew. He had been stuck there himself. Loving someone after all that time. Always.

“Who pissed in your latte?” Lara asked the following day after your nine a.m. bibliology lesson. “You look awful.”

“Thank you Lara.” You said, pushing your stuff into your bag. “Jin went on a date last night.”

Lara frowned, “What do you mean?”

“On a date. Pizza. With a girl.”

She laughed. “You’re joking, right?”

“I’m serious.” You said, placing your bag on your shoulder and wrapping your scarf around your neck.

“Listen. You’ve been friends for years. Honestly, it was a matter of time before it happened.”

“He’s never had a girl, a boy, a… partner. In four years.” You said as you and Lara walked out of the room, stopping by the closest heater in the main corridor.

“Do you think he would be your loyal servant forever? Your knight in shining armour?” Lara took a small bag of caramelised almonds: she had negotiated that she would work for Seokjin for a monthly pay and a weekly amount of his grandmother’s almonds covered by raw crystallised sugar.

“I am not opposed to it, it’s just… I’m uncomfortable, okay? What if he moves out and leaves me paying full rent. I can’t do that!” You stated weakly with strong disappointment.

“He’s just dating the chick, not marrying her!” Lara replied, throwing another almond in her mouth.

The mere idea of him getting married made you even more petty. “I don’t want her to barge in and change our friendship.”

“Friendship...” Lara scoffed. “You weren’t screaming friendship at my birthday.”

“I was having a nightmare!” You snarled playfully.

“You were having a wet dream. How long has it been since you’ve—”

You pressed your hand to her mouth. “Shut the fuck up. Not talking about that.”

Lara licked your hand, making you yuck and pull it away, cleaning it against her jacket. “We should talk about that, though. Think about it, Buttercup; he’s not gonna be single forever and you definitely have a bone to pick with that Grace girl.”

“She can have him like… on weekdays.” You said, trying to be reasonable. “Except on free mornings. We have breakfast together on free mornings.”

Lara shook her head. “Don’t wanna burst your bubble, but you do realise that soon he’ll be out on dates on Saturday night and staying out until Sunday morning?”

You frowned, pouting. You opened your mouth, trying to object.

Lara snickered proudly. You couldn’t let her have that.

“Well, at least I’ll be able to get laid with him out of the house.”

“Don’t worry. He’ll be getting laid too, fucking finally. He needs it and deserves it.” Lara muttered as she thought about all those years he had spent looking at you with heart eyes. “And remember that Grace will be getting Saturday dinner. Filet mignon. All that meat...” Lara commented.

“The meat...” You said, dreamily. Juicy steaks and roasted chicken and ribs and… Meat.

Your brain short-circuited. He was tall. Handsome. Well-built. And you sort of knew he’s large. For fuck’s sake, that was your best friend you were talking about! Why would you suddenly think about his junk?

You shook your head.

Still, Lara went on, grinning as she saw you falter. “Grace will get all of that. Saturday evening. Sunday morning. Breakfast in bed. Milkshakes. Homemade gelato. Apple pies. Picnics with his granny. Trips to the lake. His granny’s roast-beef—”

“Don’t touch the roast-beef, bitch!” You hissed, pointing a finger against her chest. “Grace won’t have my roast-beef, my homemade gelato, my Sunday breakfast in bed, she won’t have my apple pies, my coffees, my picnics with granny and my Saturday dinners. And no, she will not have the meat either!” You snarled.

Lara cackled. “Nice. Then you should make a plan. ‘Cause I think she wants to take it all. Now that you’re having this sudden mystical revelation, can you also vaguely perceive that you are in L-O-V-E with your flatmate and he’s been pining for you for years and he’d love it if you accidentally fell tits-first on his cock, you big fucking dumb idiot?” Lara said, completely exasperated while a posh, preppy girl gave her the side eye, tutting in disappointment.

“Stop talking about love and all that jazz. We’re platonic. We’re fine. We’re great and we’ll always be, forever.” You said shrugging. “We’ve been friends for years. He’s had plenty of time to make a move, if he were interested.”

“He blushes when old ladies call him charming! God, you’re big dumb!” Lara said, kicking her foot against your toes.

“What?”

“He’s shy! You want him! You’re attracted to him!!! You were literally sobbing his name!” Lara punched your shoulder

You shook your head, making to walk away. “Night-fucking-mere!” You objected violently.

“Li-fucking-ar!” She mirrored as she tugged at your arm and followed you.

Yes. After all, you were a liar. And well, first and foremost, you liked lying to yourself.

“He’s my best friend. I am not attracted to him. And I know I’ll never be.”

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

Navi: Chapter 1 — Chapter 2 — Chapter 3 — Chapter 4 — Chapter 5 — Chapter 6 — Chapter 7 (7/7)