#sorry dude just finished debating over your mother's state of life and now your dad's is on the line

[find-the-path]

OH SHOOT THIS CHARACTER WOULD MAKE MORE SENSE IF HIS DAD WERE DEAD.

[thompsborn]

Can I get 👉👈 a Flash centric one shot 👉👈 for the song shuffle thing 👉👈

you were good to me by jeremy zucker, chelsea cutler

leavin' isn't better than tryin'

growin', but i'm just growin' tired

now i'm worried for my soul

and i'm still scared of growin' old

you were good to me

and i'm so used to letting go

but i don't wanna be alone

you were good to me

god only knows where our fears go

hearts i've broke, now my tears flow

you'll see that i'm sorry

'cause you were good to me

you were good to me

[send me a character/ship/dynamic/etc. and i’ll put my music on shuffle and write a drabble/one shot based on the first song that plays!]

actually i’m gonna wait to take more shuffle song requests until after i finish the ones i still have in my drafts!!

-

i was debating how i wanted to approach this and then earlier today @peachy-keener sent me messages about flash x harley which i already lowkey shipped before but now,,,,,,,, But Now,,,,,, they live rent free in my brain. but this is flash centric!! this is less harleyflash and more PRE-harleyflash. also post endgame.

the ending is abrupt and not good but i genuinely cannot figure out how i want to move forward so that’s the end! that’s it!

(it isn’t stated explicitly, but peterxnedxmj)

-

tw: rough childhood implications for harley, descriptions of neglectful parenting and verbal abuse, cycle of abuse, getting kicked out of the house, loneliness. it’s a hopeful ending though!! even if it is abrupt and not very good!!

-

Flash meets Harley Keener after the worst morning of his entire fucking life.

They’re going back to school, because of fucking course they are—barely two weeks have passed since Flash reappeared on the steps leading up to MoMA, tripped over his own two feet in his haste to get a grip on his bearings, and prompty slips on a step and lands nose first into the concrete, a crunch filling his ears. The public hasn’t even gotten a full release about what the hell happened—just a basic press conference, where Steve Rogers, clad in stained sweatpants and with bags under his eyes, a side of him that the public has never seen, handed his shield over to a teary eyed Sam Wilson and promised transparency and honesty, the entire story from start to finish with nothing held back, as soon as they recovered enough to give it all.

Flash doesn’t want to go back to school, except for the fact that he definitely does, if only for the chance of semblance of normalcy.

Everything is different now, after the snap. Or, the re-snap—second snap, the return, the blip, whatever the hell people are calling it. He doesn’t care about what it ends up being called. He just knows that nothing is the same, now.

His sister wasn’t one of the ones who lived those five years, crumbled to ash (dust?)just like Flash did, and he despises the meer idea of Jesse staring down at her hands in terror while watching them disappear and him not being there to at least offer comfort, or something, but he’s selfishly grateful, as well. He didn’t miss a second of her growing up. She’s only thirteen to his sixteen, after all—had she lived, he would have come back to his baby sister being a year older than him, likely a completely different person, like all the shells of people he’s seen on the streets, shells that only ignite with life when they find the person they lost. Christ, Jesse could have been one of those shells.

Thinking about it makes shivers run down his spine, his stomach churn.. He hates it. He hates how close he was to losing that.

God, he hates them—his parents, or the sorry excuse of parents that they are. He hates that he’s coming back from being dead for five years to a step-mom and a step-dad, both of whom clearly despise the fact that they’re expected to help raise these two kids who are just lost and terrified and trying to adjust. They both moved to bigger houses—that are, at the very least, still in the same neighborhood and no more than a ten minute walk apart, making it a bit easier to handle when, inevitably, Flash gets shoved into his father’s care while Jesse is lovingly enveloped into their mother’s arms.

Their mother, who seemed to care at least a little bit beforehand—always kept bandaids and juice boxes in stock, just because he had a tendency of scraping his knee in elementary school and always wanted a juice box when he got home. Sometimes, she would brush fingers through his hair and promise that she loved him, even if she knew she was awful as showing it—even if she, willingly or not, would always love her daughter more. She had not loved him like a mother, no, but like someone who at least gave a shit about his general well being.

Something—well, again, everything—has changed since before, because his mom never even looks at him anymore, barely manages a glance in his general direction whenever he happens to be nearby, which has been a lot, because the custody battle—which, of course, his father paid great money to make a priority in the courts, and then blamed Flash for because of how far he had to dip into his wallet to make it happen—has taken most of the two weeks, even though it was that first day he was shoved into his father’s house, like they knew what they wanted, like it wasn’t going to be a battle until Flash and Jesse themselves spoke up about how much they didn’t want to be separated.

Of course. More things to blame Flash about.

Which his father—and his wife, Trudy—both do. Something they like to flaunt in his face at every hour of the day, like it isn’t bad enough that he put up a fight and still ended up separated from Jesse, like he isn’t about to go back to school with a still-healing broken nose and living in a house he doesn’t know in a room that was clearly never supposed to be his and—

He wakes up the day he’s supposed to go back to school and stares at an unfamiliar ceiling and none of the posters that he had up before he disappeared, an alarm clock that must have been invented while he was gone blaring obnoxiously in his ear. It immediately sets his teeth on edge, makes his shoulders tense.

Maybe, he hopes, school will be familiar.

But everything has changed.

The school, itself, isn’t completely different, of course—classes are where they’ve always been, even if the names on the desks have changed; bathrooms are still pretty gross and have that high school bathroom smell that, for the first time in existence, he’s kind of glad to come across, if only because it makes him feel like it’s still 2018 and he’s going to walk out the door and see faces that he actually know.

He opens the door and a tall blonde guy walks into it—nose first, of course, whips his head back with a yelp and brings a hand up to poke at his nostrils, looks down a moment later and frowns at the crimson shining on the tips of his fingers, and then looks up at Flash.

Instead of anger, he grins, all crooked and boyish, and says, “Hey, we match!”

“We...” Flash trails off, confused; this guy doesn’t even sound like a New Yorker. Has the normal New York accent changed, too? The dude sound souther, for fucks sake. “What?”

Bloody fingers point at Flash’s face—actually, really, at his nose, still bandaged. “That. Noses, y’know? Pretty sure that just broke mine, so—”

“Oh, god,” Flash groans, head dropping to his hands. “Please tell me you’re joking, man.”

Stupidly, the guy pokes at his nose again—this time, at the slightly noticable crook towards the end. He sucks in a sharp breath, winces, and says, “Well, it ain’t feelin’ all that great...”

Flash groans again. “Of fucking course I just broke someone’s fucking nose. Of course.”

“Uh...” The guy frowns, glancing down as a drop of blood falls on the tip of his shoe. “S’alright. You didn’t do it on purpose, so—”

Instantly, Flash chokes on a stupidly bitter laugh. “Not like that’ll matter,” he murmurs.

“So,” the guy goes on, either not hearing Flash’s interjection or choosing not to react to it, “I don’t see what the problem is, here.”

“Of course you don’t,” Flash says, laughing again. “No one—” he stops, brows furrowing as he shakes his head. “Doesn’t matter,” he says, shouldering his backpack with a sigh. “C’mon.”

The guy doesn’t follow when Flash starts walking. When he looks back, the guy is visibly confused. “Why am I following you to a random place, and why are you looking at me like I’m the one who’s being weird right now?”

“The office,” Flash says, instead of providing, like, a real answer. The guy looks even more lost, even looks over his shoulder like Flash is talking to someone else entirely. Flash sighs. “I just broke your nose, man. We have to go to the office so you can get it checked out and tell them what happened. Call home, too, probably, since you’re pretty sure it’s actually broken.”

The guy tilts his head. “We?”

Flash’s frown deepens into a grimace. “Yeah.”

“I think I’m a bit confused, here...”

Groaning once again, Flash gestures down the hallway, in the direction he had been trying to walk, and says, “We need to tell them—”

“That I walked into a door?”

“That I broke your nose!” Flash exclaims.

The guy crinkles his nose before immediately flinching and smoothening it out. “You opened a door. The door that broke my nose because I walked into it. That’s not your fault.”

Flash stares at him, beyond confused and borderline incredulous, but he’s also tired and he doesn’t know this guy or most of the people currently attending this school and his dad married a woman who hates him and his mom also apparently hates him now, too, and he’s living in a guest room that he knows was made specifically for Trudy’s parents to visit them and Jesse doesn’t like mom’s new husband (Flash doesn’t know his name; he wasn’t introduced to the guy and was always lost in his head whenever the judge occasionally brought it up during the custody ordeal) and she misses living together but she’s becoming less and less bitter every day, gushes about how much mom spoils her and peppers her face with kisses and cries while blubbering over how much she missed her and, Christ, no one missed him!

No one. No one wanted him to come back.

“Whatever,” he tells this stranger, no longer seeing the guy, no longer caring.

He doesn’t look back when he walks away.

-

Harley Keener—as Flash later learns, since he apparently has fifth period with the guy—is, of course, friends with Parker.

Parker, who Flash will never admit to admiring, will never vocalize how jealous he is of everything that Peter has, greets Harley with a small smile, and maybe, if Flash hadn’t instantly scoffed and looked away, he could have noticed the look of understanding and grief that the both of them wore.

Though, he can’t deny, seeing someone he actually knows makes things easier. Or, at least, it does for a few seconds, until he sees the way that Leeds is quiet, staring down at his hands a lot, looking at Parker like he’s looking at a gravestone, glancing at Jones, who is damn near stoic, with pain in his features. Until he notices all the ways that they’re different, too.

He sinks his teeth into his lower lip, tastes copper, and doesn’t pay attention to the teacher—who he doesn’t fucking know.

Nothing is the same, he thinks.

Not a single god damn thing.

-

Flash finishes his junior year with no friends, bimonthly weekend visits with his sister, and so much anger burning in his veins that he spits insults at anyone who crosses his path, people who don’t get it, who will never understand.

“You’re a fucking hick that’s probably here on scholarship,” Flash snarls when Harley tries to interfere a verbal beating of a random kid who looks like he isn’t old enough to drive just yet.

Harley’s eyes harden, and his nose—not as straight, now, as it once was, a constant reminder of the break that healed just a little bit wrong—crinkles. He looks conflicted about the situation, and Flash knows that Harley has, for the past few months, been nothing but a kind stranger that tries to talk to Flash in the halls, who always asks how he is and how his day is going and doesn’t even deflate when Flash acts like it’s a hinderance, because Flash doesn’t know how to accept kindness, to react when someone seems to give a shit about him.

Jesse cares—loves him, of course. But Jesse is making friends at her school, and she’s adapting in a way that Flash can’t seem to do.

Harley is a person, a random person, who shows interest whenever he has the opportunity to talk to Flash. Who acts like, maybe, he might kind of care, too.

“Do you think anyone gives a shit about you?” Flash asks—seeing Harley’s face in front of him, sure, but his words are directed at only himself, unable to accept the idea of a stranger caring about him. “You’re nothing,” he says. “You don’t fucking matter, alright? No one fucking cares!”

And then, Parker—in a blur of motion, something awful and protective battling on his face—is standing between them. His teeth are bared like an animal, eyes burning, as he spits out, “Do not talk to him like that.”

“Peter,” Harley tries, voice weak.

Having none of it, apparently, Parker ignores his protest, tells Flash, who is shellshocked by seeing Peter genuinely furious for the first time since tripping him in the halls as freshman, “I don’t give a shit what you say to me, Flash, I’ve put up with it for years, but you do not talk like that to—to anyone else, but especially not to one of the only family members I have left!”

A wounded noise rumbles from Harley’s throat, but Flash—Flash is furious. Because, really, at least Parker has people��he has an aunt who is a better parent than either of his have ever been, friends who are so loving and protective that it feels like they’re in love with the guy ninety-nine percent of the time, and Harley, too? Harley, who has tears in his eyes and Flash doesn’t know if it’s because of his words or Peter’s, who reaches forward and yanks Peter back towards him. “Peter,” he says again, more forcefully now. “It’s fine, dude. Let’s just go.”

Parker sets his jaw and glares at Flash like his life depends on it. Flash, of course, decides to open his fucking mouth and says, “Sure, just go back to people who probably hate you—”

He doesn’t know where he’s going with that, but he doesn’t get the chance to before Ned fucking Leeds steps in front of him and swings.

He starts summer with another broken nose.

Sure, he deserves it—but it sucks, nonetheless.

-

At the start of senior year, Harley approaches him and, for some reason, apoligizes

“What?” Flash says—the only that that comes to mind, sometimes standalone, sometimes followed by an even more incredulous the fuck?

“M’sorry,” Harley repeats. “Pete shouldn’t’ve yelled at you like that, and Ned—Christ Almighty, he’s a sweetheart, but him and Michelle would do anything for Pete, and when they thought you were sayin’ that shit to him, there wasn’t nothin’ that could’ve stopped ‘em.”

Flash frowns. “Dude... what the fuck?”

Harley mirrors his frown, tilts his head to the side. “What? Am I not makin’ sense?”

“You’re apologizing,” Flash says. “To me.”

Slowly, Harley nods. “Yeah, I am.”

Flash shakes his head. “Why?”

“‘Cause you weren’t sayin’ that shit to me and Pete, that’s why,” Harley answers, almost matter of fact and simple. “I know it.” All Flash can manage to do is shake his head again, not understanding what the hell Harley is talking about, until Harley glances away, brings a hand up to scratch nervously at the back of his neck, and murmurs, “I mean... I get what it’s like, saying somethin’ about someone else that you really mean about yourself... y’know?”

He doesn’t have any semblance of control when his features go blank, when his shoulders are drawn up, defensive, disbelieveing. “I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about.”

Harley smiles. He smiles. “Yeah, I know what it’s like to play stupid, too. Seriously—I get it.”

No one gets it, Flash thinks.

He doesn’t say it. Or anything, really.

All he does is walk away.

-

He walks away later that day, when Harley tries to approach him. He turns tail and bolts the second he sees blond hair in the distance, whether it’s Harley or not—does this for days, and then weeks, and then—

And then Harley stops trying to approach him.

Flash doesn’t get why that fact makes him heavy, his brain a taunting repetition of knew that no one cared, knew it, knew it, knew it.

Oddly enough, it hurts more than usual.

-

He graduates.

No one is in the crowd for him—his mother planned a vacation with her husband (still nameless, since Flash doesn’t care enough to learn it anyway) and Jesse that just so happened to line up with graduation. Trudy and Harrison stopped acknoledging him entirely a few months after he came back, unless out of absolute necessity and usually with scathing commentary that burn every single time.

A few people clap for him—and he knows, once he sees that it’s Harley and Peter and Ned and Michelle, that he doesn’t deserve it.

Too nice, all of them. Acting like they give a shit.

Always too damn nice.

-

It hits him, after he gets kicked out.

Hits him, suddenly, how badly he fucked it all up. How he took an opportunity that he didn’t deserve and pushed it away. Harley had wanted to be friends, had cared, whether Flash understood why or not, and Flash had been awkward and unsure and ruined everything.

He sits on the curb with a suitcase. Only one, because it’s all he had time to pack before being shoved harshly onto the streets.

Though he wants to, he doesn’t cry.

-

It’s a miracle that the number hasn’t changed.

It’s an even bigger miracle that Harley, apparently, never deleted his number after what happened, after obtaining it only because he had prompted Flash about wanting to join the Decathlon team and asked if he could text him questions about it later that day, before—

Well. Before, but after. Before Flash destroyed what he didn’t even gave, but after everything shifted, changed, began to hurt.

Miraculous doesn’t even begin to describe the slightly hopeful tone when Harley answers and, without hesitating, asks, “Flash? You there?”

Doesn’t deserve it—god, Flash should be getting spat on right now—but he needs it, now more than ever. Holding his phone tighter, he stammers out a shaky, “Y-Yeah.”

“What’s wrong?”

Maybe his voice gave it away. Maybe the fact that he’s reaching out at all. Maybe Harley just knows. Flash isn’t sure the how about it, only able to focus on making his tongue cooperate with him as he breathes out a broken kind of, “I’m sorry, I—about everything, but I—I have no one else to call and you were—the only one, y’know, who was—who was nice to me—”

There’s a faint jingle. “Where are you?”

“I don’t know,” Flash whispers, trying to blink through the tears that suddenly fill his eyes, swallowing roughly. “I just—I started walking, once it hit that I didn’t know where I should go, and I—fuck, I shouldn’t have called.”

“‘ey,” Harley says, tone—firm, angry. “I dunno what you’re thinkin’, but I’m the best person you could have called. I’m on my way, okay?”

Flash closes his eyes. “You shouldn’t.”

“Well,” Harley says, “I’m not turnin’ around.”

-

He doesn’t cry.

He doesn’t, untill Harley steps out of a car wearing pajama pants and a sweatshirt that’s inside out. Then, of course, he sobs.

Then, of course, Harley cares, like he never should have, and hugs Flash.

Jesse is the only person who has ever hugged him. His mother, almost, when he was really young, but—but no one else. No one.

In Harley’s arms, he melts.

[mangled-dreams]

Dealings with a Devil (Part 22)

Dealings with a Devil (Part 22)

Reader X Darkiplier

You, Reader, have made a deal with what you believed to be a fantasized version of your favorite YouTuber’s alter ego, Darkiplier after he’d visited you in a dream. You believed Darkiplier to only exist in your dreams and on Markiplier’s YouTube channel, but by some impossible way he’s real and he intends on collecting on your debt to him.  

((Just as an FIY, Sean’s “fiance” is someone I made up and for the sake of the story he still lives in Ireland. I’m trying to stay mostly true to real life but it’s hard sometimes, especially when it doesn’t cross your mind to actually look up facts. lol.))

“You look rather pleased with yourself.” Sean remarks the next morning when you join them in the dinning room for breakfast. You smile brightly at him and nod.

“I am rather pleased. I had a nice chat with my boyfriend.” You say as Marline giggles to herself.

“I’m glad to hear you two are still on good terms.” She says.

You nod. “I am too.” With that you enjoy your pancakes and scrambled eggs before riding the train into Scotland. The three of you visit a few estates on a guided tour before going to your hotel. You spend a little time alone working on some commissions then head to the dinning room to have dinner with your friends.

When you lay down for bed Dark is there. His arms wrapped around you, holding you close at you drift into slumber. He’ll be gone before the morning, and that’s fine, you have to get up fairly early and head to the airport for your flight home.

Despite with slight bumps with Anti and Dark’s disappearing act, you’re trip to visit with Sean and see the sights has gone rather well. The weather was perfect, the company was excellent, and the food was delicious, not to mention you’d been able to spend a little time with Dark. Less than what you had planned, but a little is better than none.

In the morning you ensure all your things are ready to go and you meet Sean and Marline on ground level. You share laughs and make plans for future trips to the islands as well as plans to visit Mark again. There are a few conventions coming up in the next few months that Sean and Mark both plan on attending and you are more than welcomed to share a booth with Sean.

You tease him about getting too chummy with another woman in front of his fiancé, but it’s all in good fun and Marline simply laughs along. When you arrive at the airport you give Sean and Marline each a hug.

“I’m really going to miss you two.” You tell them readjusting your bag strap.

Sean and Marling mirror in their agreement. “You’re always welcome in our home.” Marline says hugging you again. She honestly feels like the big sister you never had, which is bittersweet considering you won’t see her for a long time after this. Rarely does she join Sean overseas due to her own work and a slight fear of flying such a long distance. You don’t blame her.

“I promise, I’ll keep a good eye on Sean when he comes to the States.” You tell her giving her one last big squeeze.

“Thank you.” She whispers as she releases you.

Sean looks a little misty eyed as he smiles at you. “We’ll be seeing you in December time, ya?” he asks just as a confirmation.

You laugh softly saying, “of course. Besides, who else is going to keep you and Mark under control?” You know very well both men have a huge group of friends to keep them reigned in. Sean chuckles and you spot a clock out of the corner of your eyes. “I’ve gotta go. I can’t miss my flight, otherwise you’d be stuck with me forever!” you joke.

Sean and Marline laugh. “Oh, no, that would be sooo terrible.” Sean mocks. You laugh; give one last wave and head off. You will miss the pair, but at least you have plans to see each other again, even if it’s just half of a whole.

“Miss, would you like some more SPRITE?” the flight attendant asks mentioning to your empty glass. You debate it before nodding your head and hand her your glass. She nods and head off leaving you to your thoughts. Dark assumed it would be better if he simply did not join you on the flight home. You agreed to an extent. Anti is less likely to join you if Dark is MIA, but on the same note you really wanted to have time with Dark.

At one point you get out your laptop and tablet to continue on a few commissions but the plane jumped too much to get any kind of lineart or coloring done, so you settle for simple sketches and doodles. You pass the time with ease and once you're in the States again the WiFi on the plane started working again and you checked your emails and Tumblr page. Responding to a few choice comments and messages you turn off the computer and put everything.

The over seventeen hour flight will have a two hour layover in New York. It's during this layover you get some lineart and coloring done. During the layover a young girl, maybe ten kept peeking over the back of her chair at your work. You'd caught her a few times before asking if she'd like to sit next to you and watch. Her mother agreed, since you're literally back to back, and the girl, Annabelle, rushes around the seats to plop down next to you.

“Wow! You're really good at this.” Annabelle says in awe at your skill. Currently you're working on a Pokemon themed commission for a long time customer. Pikachu, Eevee, and Mimikyu are playing next to a small pond with Dewgong and Marill play in the water. You smile at the girl.

“Thank you. But I haven't always been this good. I spent a lot of time and effort into getting this good, and I still have a long way to go even. You can be happy with our current level of skill, but always strive to be just a little bit better.” you tell her smiling as you finish the shading on Mimikyu.

“I really like your Pokemon, miss. My favorite Pokemon is Gengar!” she proudly says. The girl does have great taste in Pokemon.

“I like Haunter, personally. But my favorite Pokemon would have to be Phantump hands down. It's just so cute.” you tell her smiling happily. You've always had a gift with children. They just seem to gravitated and cling to you. 

“Tell you what, I'm going to give you a piece of paper with my email on it. If you ever want me to draw you 3 of our favorite Pokemon have your mom email me and I'll gladly to as it for you.” you say just before they call your flight number. You quickly, but legibly write down your email and give it to the girl before saving your work, packing up, and hurry to the line forming.

Because of your first class ticket you're given priority boarding and quickly find you seat. After the plane is loaded up it takes off, headed to PDX. Once you arrive in Portland, Oregon your older brother Jackson picks you up and takes you home.

“Did you have fun in Ireland?” Jackson asks as you slowly drive up the packed I-5. You smile, your head rolling against your head rest to look at him.

“Yeah. I really want to go back. Do you think Mom and Dad would be okay with me moving to Ireland or England? It'd give them a reason to visit Europe.” You says laughing at the skeptical look Jackson gives you.

“I doubt Mom would stop you, but Dad would most likely forbid it. You're his little girl. How could you ever expect him to let you leave?” Jackson asks chuckling softly, but you can hear it in his voice. He'd miss you.

“You are so lucky you get to go all over now, Y/N! I mean, visiting Ireland and then you even get to visit England? Dude! That's my dream vacation. Although I don't really care much for Scotland. It's basically the same as England.” Ida says flicking a small fleck of pizza across the table as you chat. She insisted on taking you out to dinner that night, even though you're totally drained. Who could have guessed traveling by plane, not to mention first class, could be so tiring?

“Scotland was beautiful, Ida. It was all beautiful and amazing and I had wonderful company.” You respond defending Scotland.

Ida laughed softly. “Okay, you win. So how was Jack?” she asks next. Ida has a huge crush on Sean and often asks you about him. His likes and dislikes, his personal habits. You declined to answer a lot of her questions out of respect for your friend.

“Sean was a gentlemen. And he's engaged to be married to Marline, who—I will add, is an amazing woman.” you say seeing a slight look of defeat in Ida's eye. “Sorry, Ida.” you add softly, smiling kindly at your friend, whom looks less than pleased.

“Maybe they won't work out!” Ida says trying to hold on to hope but you doubt Sean and Marline would break up. Not with how comfortable and happy they are together.

“Ida, try to find someone a little close to home. Unless you have consistent contact with someone, it's hard to get an actual relationships going.” you say laughing a little.

“Look who's talking. I heard you're dating some guy named Dark? Isn't that the alter ego Markiplier make up?” Ida asks a little sour. You frown at her.

“That's rude Ida, and you know it. And yes, I am dating someone named Dark and not to inflate his ego, he does look similar to Mark. We met at the convention in LA and just happened to find out we live fairly close together. We met up a few times, liked each others company, and are now dating.” you say trying to sound matter-of-factually when it's all completely bullshit.

Ida rolls her eyes. “If I don't meet him, he's not real.” she mutters under her breath before drinking her Corona. You frown and roll your own eyes getting the feeling she thinks your actually dating Mark and don't want to tell her.

“Let's change the subject, shall we?” you ask rather softly. “I'm going to a convention in Cincinnati the week before Christmas, do you think you'd wanna join me?” you ask hopeful to sooth your friend's ruffled feathers.

Ida glances at you then away again. You follow her gaze to an attractive young man with a goatee and a piercing in his left ear. Soft caramel colored skin and dark brown eyes with matching hair, he's quite the eye candy. You look away not interested in gaining the attentions of some random man.

You know Dark would not appreciate your wandering gaze, not that you'd suddenly get a bad case of wandering hands as well.  You have to intention of being a cheater.

“The week before Christmas, huh?” Ida says taking another swig of her drink. “Can't do, not that I don't want to go, but Mom wants me to head back east to visit family. Grandma Pam is dying and it might be the last Christmas we get with her.” Ida says turning her attention to you. You frown. You like Grandma Pam.

“Awe, that sucks. Grandma Pam is so cool. I'm sorry.” you say a little bumped out. “Maybe I can cut my time short and visit Grandma Pam with you.” you say not ready to let the last woman you consider a grandma die. Before moving the east coast with her eldest daughter, Grandma Pam lived in Washington with Ida's parents and she'd been there nearly your whole childhood. Ida and her twin brother Ignis are her only grandchildren and you'd become like an honorary granddaughter to her.

“No, don't cut your convention short. Grams is so proud of your popularity and she watches the YouTube videos with you in them. She thinks a few of them are hilarious and really likes your art.” Ida says, her eyes darting back to the man at the bar.

“Fine, but after the convention I'm meeting up with you in Maryland and seeing Grams.” You say with conviction. You don't even notice the man at the bar and a secondary man with similar features walk over to your table.

“Evening ladies. How are two find young thinks like you doing this evening?” the first asks startling you from your melancholy thoughts.

“Just fine.” You respond, not really engaging him.

“Better now that you're here.” Ida says leaning in towards the man.

“My name is Edwardo, this is my cousin Jose. Who who might you two lovely flowers be?” Edwardo asks laying on the charm. You barely register his attempts at charming you.

“My name is Ida, and this is Y/N.” Ida answers when you don't offer up your name.

“Such lovely names for such lovely ladies.” Jose responds rounding the small circular table and rests his arm on the table top. You raise a brow in question but don't say anything. The fact they think their very suave is a little funny to you.

“Oh, thank you.” Ida gushes flattered. You can understand why Ida gets flustered when complimented. She'd been the target of a lot of rude comments because of her name. It's not very common and to be honest she hadn't been the best looking as a kid. Essentially she looked similar to Helga from Hey Arnold!

“Would you care to join me for a dance?” Edwardo asks as a fairly popular pop song blares from the speakers. You watch as Ida puts her hand in Edwardo's and gets lead away. Jose takes her spot across from you.

“I don't suppose you'd care for a dance?” he asks moving his eye brows a little.

You shake your head saying, “no thank you. I'm not here to meet anyone.” You easily dismiss the man. “But, if you are, there is a lovely young lady with sandy blonde hair that hasn't taken her eyes off you since you walked over here.” you tell him pointing to the young woman. Jose turns and looks at the girl. “I'm already in a committed relationship.” you add to solidify you have no interest in hooking up with anyone.

To his credit Jose nod, bids you a good night and moves on, turning his charm on the other woman. You chuckle a little and sip on your frozen strawberry concoction. Beyond your vision in the dark stands a familiar figure carefully watching your movements.

Part 23