#this has been on my mind for quite a while now

[fungateshortcakes]

Come as you are

Pairing: oldman!Logan x chubbyfem!Reader

Summary: You have developed a crush on the man that has offered you safety and friendship all these months ago. But how could he ever love someone like you?

Wordcount: 1.6k

Warnings/tags: english is not my first language, slight angst, fluff, age gap, body image issues, insecurities, self loathing, happy ending, very self indulging

~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~

The air in the smelting plant was heavy with the silence that stretched throughout. The only sound came from the slow crackle of the fire, its light casting soft, flickering shadows onto the walls. You sat at the edge of the old, worn down couch, picking at a loose thread on your sweater, trying to focus on anything but the man across the room.

Logan was drinking his fifth coffee of the night while reading through some newspapers, his movements methodical while he turned a page, his soft groan cutting through the silence as his reading glasses slipped lower on his nose. You’d always found him fascinating to watch—so gentle with the things he handled, except for when he handled himself. The way his brows knitted together as he read, deepening the shadow of a wrinkle between them. There were so many mundane things he did that drew you to him.

It was part of why you had fallen for him in the first place.

But you would never tell him that.

You sighed quietly, your fingers curling into your lap. Logan had been your friend for a few months now, ever since he helped you out of a scrape you didn’t want to think too much about. He had offered you safety, companionship, and a kind of loyalty you’d never known from anyone else. And you?

You had given him nothing.

Sure, you helped around the home, if you could call it that, cooked dinner for him and Charles, patched his clothes when they tore, patched him when he got into another fight at his job—but you couldn’t shake the feeling that it wasn’t enough. That you weren’t enough. Never enough.

It wasn’t just the way your body didn’t fit society’s definition of “perfect" and that your clothes could only hide so much. You had made your peace with being chubby long ago. Or at least, you thought you had. But sitting here, watching a man like Logan chiseled, hardened, and impossibly strong, you couldn’t help but feel painfully out of place.

And then there was the age gap.

You were in your early twenties. He was... what? Pushing 200? Sure, he didn’t look it. His is healing factor had frozen him in what seemed to be his late 50s, but the years between you loomed like a canyon you would never be able to cross.

Why would someone like him ever look at someone like you?

“Somethin’ on your mind?” his voice startled you, rough and low, breaking through the haze of your never ending, self deprecating thoughts. You looked up to find him watching you, his glasses sitting on the table, his dark eyes sharp and focused just on you. “No,” you said, too quickly for his liking, shaking your head. “I’m fine.”

His brow furrowed deeply, a look you had come to know too well on him “Ya don’t look fine.” He states matter of factly. You tried to laugh it off, but it came out forced. “I’m just tired.” Logan didn’t buy it.

“Bullshit,” he said bluntly, leaning forward in his chair. “You’ve been quiet all day. You're never quiet. What’s goin’ on?” Yeah, you never shut up. You were quite the chatterbox around him because you felt so at ease, as if you wouldn’t be judged. Now you thought maybe that was something that annoyed him about you. The constant talking and noise because of you, not a silent moment because you were never able to read the room and shut up. You frowned, turning away from him. “Nothing,” you insisted, standing up abruptly. “I’m going to bed.”

You didn’t make it two steps before he shot up from his seat, striding over to you and catching your wrist in his large, rugged hand. He didn’t grip hard, Logan never touched you with anything but the gentlest care, but it stopped you in your tracks with a gasp.

“Talk to me,” he urged, his tone softer now. You hesitated, your chest tight with the weight of all the things you had been holding back for so long “Logan, just... drop it, okay?” you pleaded, trying to get your hand out of his grasp. “No.” he stood, his hand still around your wrist, his eyes searching yours. “You don’t get to shut me out like that.”

Your resolve started to crack, but you weren't about to let him win, so you forcefully ripped your arm awas from his grip “Why do you even care?” you sputtered out, your voice starting to feel raw. His brow furrowed even more, his chest heaving with your rejection “What kind of question is that?”

“Because you shouldn’t!” you snapped, throwing your hands in the air. “I’m nothing to you, Logan. Just some stupid kid who’s too young, too... too fat—” you weren't able to finish your sentence as Logans hands shot up to hold you by your shoulders, not letting you go “Don’t.” His voice was sharp, cutting through your words like a blade. You froze, the lump in your throat threatening to choke you. You swallowed thickly, but it wouldn’t budge.

“Don’t talk about yourself like that,” he rasped lowly, his tone softening again but no less firm. You bit your lip harshly, a distressed sound ripping from your throat “Why not?” you whispered, tears stinging your eyes. “It’s the truth.”

Logan stepped closer, his rough hands gentle on your body, his expression unreadable but his gaze unwavering. “You really think that?”

You nodded, shrugging his hands off you despite needing the warmth, wrapping your arms around yourself. “Why wouldn’t I? I mean, look at you, Logan. You’re... you’re everything. And I’m just... me.” you sniffled, avoiding his eyes. He exhaled heavily, his hand coming up to rake through his grey hair. “You think I care about any of that? About numbers or size or—”

“Yes!” you cut him off, your voice trembling. “Because you could have anyone, Logan. Someone more mature. Someone prettier, someone better!.” you nearly yelled, but undeniably got chocked up on your tears. He stared at you for a long moment, his jaw tight, his hands clenching at his sides. Then, without a word, he closed the space between you, making you press yourself against the wall.

“Listen to me,” he said, his voice low but steady, his tired eyes piercing “You think I care about how old you are? About how much curves you've got? Hell, sugar, you’re the only good thing I have left in my life, and you’re standing here actin’ like you’re not enough?”

You blinked up at him, your heart pounding in your chest. “Logan—” you started breathlessly, but he lifted a warning finger at you. “No,” he said, cutting you off. “You don’t get to tell me what I want. And what I want is you. All of you. Just as you are.” Tears spilled over your round cheeks before you could stop them, and Logan’s hands came up to cup your face, his thumbs firmly brushing them away.

His hands held your face as if it was a precious artifact made out of porcelain, one that would shatter if handled too carelessly “I know I’m not good at this,” he murmured, his forehead resting against yours. “Hell, I’ve screwed up more times than I can count. But I know what I feel. And I feel it for you.”

Your breath hitched and he tilted your chin up ever so gently to meet his eyes, his gaze locked on yours. “Tell me I’m wrong,” he said quietly. “Tell me you don’t feel the same.”

You couldn’t.

Instead, you threw your arms around him, burying your face in his broad chest as the dam finally broke. Logan held you tight, one hand cradling the back of your head while the other wrapped firmly around your plush waist. He was so warm and he smelled so good. Like home. This was home. “You’re it for me, sugar” he whispered into your hair, his salt and pepper beard scratching your temple “Don’t ever doubt that.”

When you finally pulled back, your eyes met his, and for the first time in what felt like forever you let yourself believe it. “You mean it?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

Logan’s lips quirked into a small, rare smile. “I don’t say things I don’t mean.” you didn’t respond, not with words. Instead, you leaned in slowly, giving Logan every chance to pull away, though you knew he wouldn’t. Not after that. He met you halfway, your lips brushing softly at first, tentative and sweet.

The kiss deepened, a tender exploration that spoke of all the moments you hadn’t been brave enough to share until now. Logan hadn't thought he would ever feel like his younger self again, kissing a pretty lady while his heart threatened to burst out of his chest. His broad hands smoothed over the soft curves that were your hips, trying to map your body like he had wanted for so long.

When you finally seperated, just a breath apart, you were suddenly lifted up into the air. You shrieked, clinging to Logan while he held you up by your thick thighs effortlessly. He smirked smuggly at you, a rare sight, and you pouted. "Just because I am dying doesn't mean I can't handle a girl like you, sugar" he drawled and carried you back over to the couch. He let himself fall onto the worn down cushions with you on top of him, your weight comforting on him. You were no light feather and he appreciated that. He could actually feel you on top of him, actually had something to grab you by.

Upon his mention that he was actively dying because of the adamantium lacing his bones, a heavy feeling settled in your stomach and your smile dropped. He noticed and gave your cheek a kiss "Hey. Don't worry. I'll be here for as long as you'll have me" and when he leaned down to kiss you again, it was slow and steady and full of promises you knew he’d never break.

~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~

I really hope you liked this short fic and maybe can relate to it as well!

Characters like Logan are always paired with the skinny, dolled up, feminine, conventionally attractive woman and that kind of makes me feel like (if someone like Logan existed) i wouldn’t have a chance because i am fat. I already think that, but still!

We need more representation because we are people like everyone else and deserve to live in peace just like everyone else.

I know it's hard to believe- but you are beautiful and worthy, no matter your size. I still have to believe that myself, but I will get there someday🎀

[fayesia]

Day 7 - Breeding

"The Realms Desire" - uncle!Daemon x niece!reader

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹ ׂ🦢 𓈒ೀ

ᯓᡣ𐭩 warnings - Targcest!, breeding kink obv, Aemondxreader mentioned, cunnilingus, p in v, dirty talk, nipple play?, brief slut shaming, spit play

ᯓᡣ𐭩 wc - 2.1k

The final family supper ended in uproar, as the children were sent to their respectful chambers, the remaining adults silently looked at one another. Letting out a sharp breath Alicent concluded the dinner.

"Well, I believe we should all take our rest, it has been quite an...eventful night."

Agreeing with her, the dining hall cleared out, and you took the long winding walk through the silent hallways back to your room. As you neared the corner to your apartments door, a hand reached out harshly, tugging you against their lean figure. Letting out a yelp, you panicked before realising it was Aemond, his eyes wide because of the loud noise you made.

"Aemond, what is the manner of this? You should be in your room"

"Please. I need you. Just one more time, one last time"

It wasn't a secret to the guards and maids who patrolled the halls and entered your room that Prince Aemond would spend some nights with you. The manner, however, was merely for comfort, and although clothes were sparsely worn, blasphemy never fully occurred. He would simply explore and imagine while you gently stroked the soft gleaming white hair the two of you shared.

"Not tonight, Aemond. Tensions have already risen thanks to your rash wording, I think it's best not to stir the pot anymore."

His grip, however, didn't loosen. Your reprimanding words and denial hurt the Prince, someone who was born with a golden spoon in their mouth. He opened his mouth to retaliate, but upon the sound of nearing footsteps, he stepped away and out of the shadows, sauntering off in the opposite direction.

You caught your breath as thoughts swirled in your mind. Pushing open the door, you turned to close it before a voice called out to you.

"Princess, wait"

Before you could reply, your uncles broad frame walked in, cornering you against the now shut door.

"What was Aemond doing here, with you, I recall the children being sent to bed"

Stunned at the confrontational question you took a while to reply.

"Yes...no..he was-Aemond was just..."

Your sentence faltered, unable to answer as your head hung low to not look Daemon in the eyes.

"Was he listing after you again? Is that it? Did he want to fuck you tonight. After all the discord he has caused."

"What? No. No, of course not, don't be ridiculous-"

"Ridiculous? Me asking about the man who enters your room to bed you every night is ridiculous?"

"He doesn't bed me."

"Of course he doesn't. Because he sees all of you and simply does nothing, is that it?"

His sarcastic tone did not go unoticed, angering you more as he spoke down to you as if you were still a mere child.

"Yes! Uncle he does nothing. Please believe me."

"How can I believe you, the evidence is rather contradictory of what my ears are hearing and my eyes see."

"Why should it bother you? You have your wife, my sister. My behaviours should be of no business to you. Whether I bed him or not is not a matter of your concern, uncle."

Stepping sidewards to evade his presence, Daemon moves quickly, slamming you against the door and knocking the breath from you.

"Do you like that he fucks you princess, to spend every night getting filled with his seed? Is that all you want to be. A whore for a disfigured man."

Casting your eyes from the floor to your uncles face, you see the rage he holds.

"Can barely call him a man, though can I. You don't even know what it's like to take the cock of a real man"

Leaning closer, his hands travelled from your shoulders to your waist.

"Do you want to know what it's like, princess?"

He hips rubbed against you, both strong arms from years of training and fighting pulled you closer, as you felt his hard bulge beneath his breaches. You let out a whimper, an internal battle being fought about his advances.

"We mustn't. We can not." Your cheeks flushed as heat coursed through your entire body. Your words were the opposite of your movements, chest to chest with your uncle, the thin material of your gown rubbed against your sensitive nipples. The sight of them pebbling added with the sensation had you growing wetter, shifting your thighs against each other in an effort to stop the reaction you had to Daemon.

An action not gone unoticed by him.

"We can though. No one has to know. I can teach you how a proper man fucks his whores."

Throwing all rash thoughts out the window you meekly nodded while your uncle steered you towards your bed. Laying you on your back Daemon climbed over, leaning down to connect lips in an unforgiving kiss, you grew dizzy at the sheer force while his tongue explored your mouth. His spit mixed with your own as his tongue traced across your lips before dragging down your chin to your neck, where kisses were places against your soft skin.

You lifted off the bed, soft moans released from your mouth, in hopes to be as close with Daemon as humanely possible. His hands lifted you upwards to him until you were comfortably straddling his lap. The expertise he had with woman coming to light as he was quick and swift to untie the laces of your dress as it fell from your shoulders. Leaving you in nothing but your smallclothes, which was already soaked in your own desire.

With an act of confidence you leaned forward to connect your lips to his once more, Daemon used this time to clumsily undress while trying to keep you pleased with his mouth. When you disconnected, your eyes wavered on the many battle scars that marred the Princes skin, from his neck to his back, you gently lifted a finger to trace the scarred flesh.

Daemon used this opportunity to explore you himself. His large hands encased your breasts that fit comfortably in his palms. Rubbing across your pebbled nipples, he smirked, squeezing the flesh, noticing the subtle rotation of your hips against his groin.

"Does my princess enjoy this?"

Unable to get the words out you just nodded.

"Is this what you and Aemond do?"

The tone in his voice was one of mock and jealousy, and you thought it best not to reply with your usual sarcastic tone. For this was not a moment you wanted to end because you simply couldn't hold your tongue.

Laying you back down, Daemon travelled down your body, licking your nipples as he took turns to evenly stimulate both with his tongue. The spit felt sticky and made your nipple harder once they were released from the Princes' warm mouth. His tongue continued its journey downwards, his mouth encasing your cunt over your damp smallclothes.

"Or is this what he does to you?"

Licking more stripes across the fabric, it soon grew transparent with the mixture of both his spit and your liquids. Shaking your head, you denied such actions every occurring.

"Shame. The boy is missing out. Never tasted a sweter cunt. That of a virtuous princess."

His strong hands ripped the smallclothes from your thighs as they were roughly tossed somewhere across your room. Inhaling sharply, you felt Daemons mouth back on your sensitive flesh, except this time there was nothing in between, his tongue flicking through your crevices. Your hands grabbed at his hair, pushing him closer to your centre while he worked ferociously in an effort to make you climax. Looking down at him, your eyes met his hooded ones, the purple of both your eyes were darkened by the lust shared for one another.

Holding your legs open, his grip on your thighs grew stronger as you came. His name flowed off your tongue like a prayer, and your moans could easily be heard by the guards standing outside in the hallway. Your hips bucked into his face as your body and mind fought a battle of whether to run from the pleasure or take more.

Daemon released your shaking thighs, climbing up your body with a smirk across his wet face covered with your release. His kissed you again, this time with the sole purpose of sharing the taste of your release between both of you. The idea was made obvious as he gathered his spit and spat in your own mouth.

The liquid made up of mostly your own release, the messy transaction dripped down your chin, but Daemon gathered it with his thumb, pushing it back into your mouth for you to swallow.

Sucking his thumb, you looked at Daemon with the sweetest eyes in the realm. For if your sister was the realms delight than in this moment, he concluded that you were truly the realms desire.

His cock was enough to prove that, it's much gossiped about size was bobbing against your thigh and becoming harder to ignore as precum dripped from it and marked your skin.

"Please, Daemon, I want you, need you to fill me"

"Is that what you want sweet niece, to be fucked like a whore, to feel your uncle fill you with his seed"

Nodding your head, you went limp as Daemon positioned you on all fours. A pillow under your stomach as he pushed you back into a deep arch, his mouth gently kissing down your spine. Entering you in one quick thrust you moaned into the sheets, immediately feeling stuffed with the thick girth of your uncles cock.

"Gods, you feel so good."

"The gods are not the one filling you, sweet thing. It is my name you should be calling out to."

Daemons thrust sped up as your unwavering moans spurred him on. His hands grabbed the flesh of your hips to guide your cunt up and down his cock as they travelled up to grab your breasts. His fingers squeezing your nipple as the flesh of his thighs loudly slapped against the flesh of your ass. Finally one of his hands moved to wrap around your neck while the other around your waist lifted you to lean against his chest.

The new position allowed his cock to enter you at a deeper angle than before. Your eyes could barely stay open as they rolled back in pure pleasure as your mouth fell open with no noise escaping.

"Do you enjoy this? Being fucked by your uncle. To know your uncles seed will soon fill you up so you can carry his babe."

Whining out you couldn't think hard enough to reply, his cock had fucked you dumb. Turning your head the look you gave him was enough to answer his question, his mouth released a puff of hot air against your neck as he laughed.

"To bad that boy will never fuck you like this, ruined you for anyone else haven't I sweet niece, no one else will fuck this cunt better than your dear uncle."

Absentmindedly, you nodded, almost letting out a yelp of shock when Daemons fingers reached down to rub at your bundle of nerves.

He makes you squirm as he drills his cock harder up into you, while circling his fingers faster, drawing you over the edge. Clawing his arm that's wrapped around your waist, your throughs of pleasure lead you to press deep cresent into his skin, hard enough to draw blood. Breathing heavily against your neck he fully sits you on top of his cock as his climax nears.

"Let me fill you niece. So you can grow my babe in you and mother my child, strengthen our family line, and grace our children with your beauty."

Dazed and exhausted from the best climax you had ever had, you stroked Daemons hair in almost the same way you do with Aemond. As wrong as it was, you found it amusing that the two men with so much tension between them had the same liking to certain treatments in bed.

"Please uncle..cum inside me...fill me with your seed, please Daemon.

The sound of his name whispered from your lips and the taboo of an uncle breeding his niece, pushed him to his breaking point, letting out a near animalistic groans as his cock pumped his cum into you. The warm liquid splashed against your walls and was sure to fill your womb with how deep he was inside you.

Gently kissing his forhead you stroked your uncles hair, letting him catch his breath. It was a mutually agreement to not move you off his cock, for the Princes seed must go to waste.

"So good...such a good girl for me."

His words brought a warm feeling of pride to spread inside your chest as you curled in his lap, drifting into a restful sleep as he rocked you in his arms like he did when you were young.

Kinktober Masterlist

[bumblesimagines]

you have no reason to worry.

did you two have a nice chat?

Alicent Hightower

Pronouns: He/Him/His, M!Reader

CW/TW: None really

Happy holidays y'all!

Envy was a feeling Alicent had been long aquatinted with. Her girlhood had been full of it, especially after the death of her mother and subsequent betrothal to the king after Lady Aemma's tragic passing.  She always swallowed it down, forced it away into the depths of her mind where it'd inevitably rear its ugly head again in an unsuspecting moment. But as much as she tried willing it away this time, it lingered, filling her mouth with bitterness as she stared down at the training yard below. 

Her nails scraped against the rough texture of the stone railing, her gaze wholly fixated on the knight dividing his attention between the sparring lordlings and the keen lady at his side. The Lady Brinna Wylde was young and beautiful, with golden hair cascading down her back and eyes so pale they nearly looked gray. She was of a gentler disposition and exceptional at needlework thus making her one of the more tolerable ladies of the keep. Alicent had little issue with her apart from the fact she was eligible and rather taken with Ser (Y/N), evident by how she lingered around him with a meek smile. 

There was little reason for her to be opposed to the match, in fact, she should've been encouraging the idea of a wedding to lift the somber mood that so often enveloped the Keep. But Alicent hardly believed herself capable of urging Ser (Y/N) to wed another, to deprive herself of the attention and care he so often bestowed upon her. Guilt crept up in her stomach frequently, especially when she tended to her husband who languished away in his bedchambers with the flesh-rotting disease he'd developed over the past years. She'd never allow herself to stoop low enough to step outside of her marriage, let alone commit the act of treason, but his light flirting and soothing words were enough for her. 

Until now, she supposed as she curled her fingers inward when Ser (Y/N) took Lady Brinna's hand into his and ghosted his lips over her knuckles. "Ser Criston," Alicent glanced over her shoulder at the knight, his dark eyes immediately darting toward her questioningly. "What have you heard of Lord Tyland and his search to find a wife?"

"The Lannister name may be the only thing granting him any attention, Your Grace. I do not indulge in court gossip but it appears he is not doing.. quite well." A hint of amusement seeped into Ser Criston's voice. While the Lannister twins were dashing young men, Lord Jason proved to be the more confident of the two but he'd already received Johanna Westerling's hand in marriage.

"His kindness would suit Lady Brinna, don't you think?"

Ser Criston's lips pressed together, briefly peering down at the courtyard. "Would she not suit Ser (Y/N), Your Grace?"

"Ser Tyland has been keen on finding a wife for some time, Ser Criston. When Ser (Y/N) makes his desire for a bride known, a match can be arranged." Alicent responded swiftly, sparing him another glance before she peeled herself away from the railing and made her way toward the stairs, carefully clutching her skirts so as to not trip on them. "We have not hosted a wedding in many moons. It may lift spirits to bring House Wylde and House Lannister together." 

"I'm certain Ironrod and Ser Tyland will be forever grateful, Your Grace." 

With her head lifted high, she barely looked in the direction of the servants and courtiers who bowed as she stepped past them. It felt as if with each passing day she and her father ruled in King Visery's stead, she garnered more respect from those around her. She doubted those living on Dragonstone felt similarly but none of them had bothered to visit the ill man in recent times, much less contested their joint rule. Rhaenyra would have a hard time ruling without the respect and loyalty of King's Landing residents. 

"My Queen," Ser (Y/N) smiled upon seeing her, lowering his head and bidding Lady Brinna farewell when she bowed and stepped away. 

"Did you two have a nice chat?" Alicent questioned, her head tilting ever so slightly to the side. 

Ser (Y/N)'s smile turned into an amused grin. "Ah, you have no reason to worry, Your Grace. Lady Brinna is beautiful but I've never been keen on blondes."

Alicent fought against the way the corners of her lips threatened to move upward. "That's good, then. In due time, she'll be wed to Tyland Lannister once I arrange their match. They will make a handsome couple, won't they?"

"Indeed, Your Grace. Indeed."

[iz-star]

About Zayne's nightmares...

The most unrealistic thing about Zayne is that he's a functional working adult that seemingly has put his life together at 27 not because he's young or a prodigy but because he's said to have nightmares since he was 12?? Like... I feel like this theme might be a bit overlooked but just think about it deeply, having constant nightmares fucks your mind like really REALLY bad, I can genuinely say this by experience and also as someone who has had trouble to have a healthy sleeping schedule since I was at highschool (like, for example, right now, I should be sleeping instead of writing this...).

There was a time I would have nightmares almost everytime I went to sleep during a really hard time in my life. Of course, the topic about those nightmares was almost always the same, not like the nightmares repeated themselves but they always revolved about the same things that I was actually working in therapy at the moment. Back then I was jobless and medicated most part of the time, I was pretty dysfunctional.

I suppose that's why when I listened to "Fragmented Dreams" for the first time it was the time I said "Yeah, this is my man". I love how he's always nagging MC about sleeping early because I know by experience that not sleeping properly can mess up with your mind pretty bad, and probably he knows it too. It truly is a showcase of love how he worries about her sleep like that and it also showcases how strong minded he is for enduring too much stress and remind kind constantly.

I love how healthy he is. I like to think that he's overcome all the stressful stuff he's gone thru bc of his discipline and healthy life style, but realistically it would take him some more to deal with all of that.

Yes, all of the guys have been through some very rough stuff and they all need therapy, but my point with Zayne comes with the fact that not having a good sleeping schedule and on top of that having constant nightmares can mess up with your perception of reality and induce you a bad depression or other mental health issues. Everytime I remember Zayne's main story branch when they're trapped in Zayne's dream and MC leaves him alone and he starts listening to Willian, Georgie and his Mom so he has to remind himself "It's not real, it's not real" I deeply feel that and I just want to hug him so bad :(

I think I'd like to see a card where they explore the consecuences of their past in their psyche more deeply. I can't help remembering this post which was one of the first posts you unlock with Zayne:

It was there when I just knew that even if he looked quiet, he had a lot to say but didn't know how to express.

Another thing I'd like to highlight about this is that actually I love the emotional maturity that Zayne displays about dealing with such issues like nightmares, traumatic experiences and literally being exposed to see people dying 24/7 while being someone that feels a lot yet says little. He's dealt with this the best way he can, no wonder why he came to be quite serious and inexpressive or sarcastic. Not allowing himself to express other emotions than seriousness or sarcasm was like keeping himself in check so he wouldn't spill everything he feels and considering how stressing is his job already, it just makes sense, but that didn't mean Zayne didn't feel because he feels too much and too deeply and worries sick about ppl and especially about MC.

Of course, bottling up his emotions wasn't the best way to deal with them but he never used any unhealthy coping mechanism neither, like alcohol, for example (My teetotaler King ❤️) etc. Yeah, his workaholism isn't exactly healthy but not something toxic to his mind and relationships, and I've always had a feeling that he's a big foodie and addicted to sweets to give himself that boost of serotonine he needs so bad.

That's why he compares MC with sweets, being her his favorite dessert, bc she's brought all that serotonine to his life naturally and has helped him let go little by little. When he opened to her about losing Dulcie, I had a feeling that Zayne always wanted someone to listen to him but he didn't know how to ask for it and ppl around him was too afraid to even dare to suggest it. I think even in one of his anecdotes, it is said that sometimes Dr Noah wanted to tell him something but at the end ended up saying nothing.

The fact that Zayne bottled up his emotions didn't mean that he wouldn't willingly share them, he wanted to but wasn't used to it. With MC, he's slowy started to let it go and enjoy life more, allowing himself to be sad in front of her, to express his fears (about losing her) or to express his childish tantrums and indulge in his softest side. That's why also she's not only his favorite dessert but also his best painkiller ❤️

And just to finish, I've always thought this quote by Kafka fits him so well:

"Remember, you should sleep more than other people, for I sleep less than most. And I can’t think of a better place to store my unused share of universal sleep than in your beloved eyes."

[elegantgardenrunaway]

If it's with you

Curly (mouthwashing) x reader

A/N: AAAAAAH FINALLY I FINISHED IT. Sorry for the delay, to be honest it was quite challenging for me to write this one. I hope I did Curly good enough for you.

This is the second (and last) part of this. But if you want to keep with the fluff then I would recommend skipping this.

Warnings: Jimmy (ofc), violence, mild gore(?), death, no happy ending (sorry guys not really), very hinted about what happened with Anya, but not explicit.

And bad grammar, probably. Sorry, English is not my first language.

He wishes he had kept his mouth shut.

Just for a day or two more, so at least the decorations wouldn't have been put to waste.

Such a birthday celebration. They must have put a lot of effort into it and he had to go and ruin everything.

Their reactions are still burning in his mind, like burning coal scorching his brain; Anya's worried voice, Swansea sarcastic remarks, Daisuke’s silence, Jimmy's accusations, your blank expression looking at the plate while you gripped the fork with white knuckles. No matter what, they are always there.

He sighs heavily, he needs to get to work soon.

He doesn't know how he will face the others now.

Yet he doesn't move, doesn't even hear that someone has entered the lounge. He later hears the shuffle of the couch as someone sits besides. He doesn't bother to look up nor start a conversation, too drained to give an explanation or even a half joke to break the ice.

They stand up again. He thinks they are going to leave him alone.

Then he hears the radio being turned on, followed by the sound of music, banishing the silence in the air.

He turns up, surprised and confused, finding you walking back to him with a nervous smile on your face.

For some reason, he's relieved that you are not Jimmy.

I mean, he definitely wouldn't do something like this.

You took his hands, lightly pulling him up. His hands had brushed against yours more than one time, on accident that is, due to your jobs or as a playful row during game nights. Now he realizes how warm and comforting your hands are to the point he hardly notices that he went up on his own, following you.

“Do you like to dance, Captain?” Your voice takes him out of his trance.

He blinks “... What?”

“... Um… Do you… do you like to dance? We can dance if you want. It's still your birthday party and it shouldn't end like this. Please, at least one dance”

He looked at them, dance… Dance? In a moment like this?

“We still have work to do,” he said, trying to give an excuse to get out of this.

“To hell with work,” you responded as you guided him “Forget the work, the company, everything. Tomorrow we'll drown. Today? Today we dance”

… That doesn't sound so bad.

He looks at your eyes. They hold such determination even if you look nervous. Your hands, your hands were holding him, he felt grounded. He repeated your words in his mind:

Today we dance. Ha, he isn't very good at it. He doesn't dance a lot, never had the time in a work like this.

He didn't refuse your proposal, didn't have the heart to tell you no, but he warned you about his lack of skill on the dance floor.

You laughed, he didn't know whether to feel embarrassed or offended or both, but your later reassurance lifted a weight from his shoulders. Soon he's holding you in his arms, bodies close, his head resting on you as you sway with the melody. His body is relaxed and the worries about the future are temporarily forgotten from his mind.

You don't judge him nor think less of him. Instead, you go at his pace and encourage him to try something different, something new, even if he's not really good at it, he can still learn.

Especially if it's with you.

Time seemed to disappear for both of you. A song became two, became three, became four until you had to let each other go, you had to go back to work.

But he didn’t want to do that. He wished he could stay with you, just a little bit longer.

But when you accepted that the time was up, you agreed to meet again for your next class the following day in the morning before work.

He was the first one to arrive. Entering the lounge way before your agreement. The holographic screen still shows the night sky. He didn't sleep, he couldn't. His friend has been giving him the cold shoulder and the rest of his crew is still shaken up from the news. Even though you tried to hide it, he still noticed.

And then, there is him. With a good reference secured. Which is good, but then again he still needs to figure out what he wants to do once he steps down for good.

What was life before the Tulpar? Who was Curly before the captain?

“Good morning” you yawned, trying to fix your appearance and open your eyes a little bit more “I see you're early, how long have you been here?”

“Uh?” He quickly turned upon hearing you, looking at you for a few seconds with a mixture of guilt and gratitude, he knew you were giving up some of the few hours of sleep you had in favor of this and he appreciates that. If the coffee machine wasn't empty, he would've made some for you.

“Oh, no… I just arrived, you have nothing to worry about” he lied and walked to your side “Thank you for doing this”

“Uh, don't mention it” you mumbled, yawning once more.

“Can I offer you something? Well, anything that is not coffee that is…”

“Heh, I'm alright, don't worry about it. Shall we start?”

How fast can someone get interested in another person?

Not to say he didn't pay attention to you before. It's just that now he does it in a different way, another eyes, another heart.

Suddenly he sees your expression when you smile, the wrinkles on your face when you laugh at Daisuke's bad jokes or the sudden energy boost you get with him and Anya, ; the way you listen to Swansea's rants or roll your eyes at Jimmy. Which he doesn't really like.

For six days you had taught Curly the basics of dance.

For six mornings Curly had felt excitement of waiting for a new day. He wanted to learn about dancing, learn about you.

And then …

System Failure

System Failure

System Failure

"…"

He wished he wasn't so stupid. That he was a better man and stopped Jimmy, gave him a better punishment for his actions. But then again, his options weren't very promising, especially if it involved everyone's last pay.

But maybe he's just making excuses.

He wants to scream, to apologize, to Anya, to Swansea, Daisuke and you.

Maybe he wasn't the one who set up the ship towards the asteroid, but practically served the option for Jimmy in a silver plate. So it was the same, at least in his mind, as if he was the one in the seat.

It kills him, it kills him to be a prisoner in his own, decaying body that refused to die or at least that the other refused to let die. He now has to depend on Anya —as if things weren't nightmarish enough — to even breathe properly.

You started to help Anya a little bit after he got stabilized. Seeing how she was struggling with him, you wanted to relieve some of the burden from her shoulders. The first thing you did was try to give him his pills. He will never forget the look on your eyes, the shine of betrayal and uncertainty, you seemed to be observing a bizarre creature, a monster.

That made him feel he was burning all over again.

And despite that, you did it again. You continued to give him his pills and learn from Anya how to take care of him the best you could with the little equipment you had, the fearful and horrified expression you desperately tried to conceal for his sake turned to a resigned, yet kind one. You get used to the bandages, the smell of burned fresh he still emits and soon replace Anya on the duty of giving him his pills, giving the woman a little peace of mind.

You talk to him, more often than not, you tell him about your day, the plans to have to ensure your survival, what would you do once you get back to earth, the ideas you have to get another job and one of two comments about redoing the dance lessons once he recovers from his injuries, though clarifying that it was only if he was interested. As if you would survive this.

For him, that was what was keeping him alive. He could only dream of that future you were telling him, the things you were telling yourself to give both of you hope, to desperately keep the shine in your eyes to keep shining.

Though that could only work for so long. Especially after you and the rest of the remaining crew discovered the contents of the cargo.

Mouthwash.

So that's what he was dedicating his own life for, the reason he was climbing ladders for…

He couldn't help but let out a pained chuckle, surprising you, making you look as if he just performed a miracle.

Well, he supposes that if is his suffering all it takes to impress you, then he'll gladly give it to you. Anything that could give you some hope.

Things started spiraling, you had told him and sometimes he could even hear it from his spot in the infirmary. How Swansea broke his sobriety after all these years, how Daisuke started to drink too, how Anya and you tried to keep the situation at float, but what he was most scared of was how Jimmy seemed to start to act more… aggressive. If that was even possible. He was more demanding, more prone to outburst and you and him had had rows more often.

He would be lying if he was afraid that he would do something to you. You, who still tries to hold some hope and share it with him. You are a balm that manages to soothe at least some of the despair that crushes his chest and the electric torture his own muscles give him.

He promises himself, that if you two get out of here alive and manages to at least become a somewhat functional living being, even if it meant having some kind of shitty prosthetics, even if he had to learn to walk again, he would take you to a nice place, get you some nice clothes and dance with you all night.

Yes, yes he would. And for that, he needs to keep himself alive. To take responsibility for what happened, to have a life with you.

Then suddenly, one day you came, with a look of shock. You didn't say too much that day, only a few words.

“I know... I-I know what he did”

And you didn't need to say anything else.

And you stopped talking to him for what felt like an eternity. It was a week and a half, but with the silence of the room and Anya and Jimmy being the only ones coming here, it was torture for him.

He never thought he would feel more relieved when you started talking to him again. He cried, it hurted, it hurted like hell. You shushed him gently.

But you never talked about the future again. Sometimes you still didn't talk at all, the shine in your eyes replaced by a resignation that gave him chills.

And then, everything fell apart the moment Anya locked herself in the nursery, asking if you could look after Daisuke to make sure he was doing okay, she could give him his medicines, assuring you that she was capable and that you didn't need to worry about it.

She didn't give him his medicines.

Instead, he was forced to witness how she twitched and withered on the floor until her body no longer moved.

He heard Daisuke's screams before he appeared from that vent. The young boy saw Anya, eyes glossy and horrified and tried to beg for her to talk, hoping that she was still somewhat alive, to tell him everything would be okay. And between guilty sobs, he mentioned Jimmy's name and that you were gravely injured too.

His heart stopped at that moment.

What happened to you? What did he do? Are you okay? Will you make it? Or is it too late for you too?

It couldn't be, it couldn't.

Then everything seemed to happen in a blur, he barely remembers what came next. Jimmy and Swansea were in the infirmary, the latter betaring the first one for his foolishness, for what he did to you and Daisuke. When they inevitably found nothing that would help them, they left. An hour or so later, Daisuke's screams echoed through the hall. The door was upon, but the position they were on didn't allow him to see much. But he did see how Swansea held the ax above Daisuke. Then, Daisuke's breathing stopped echoing in the halls, then Jimmy came and grabbed the gun….

The fucking gun that was under him all along.

The gun Anya hid because she was afraid of him. And he couldn't understand why at that time.

And now that he does, he can't help but laugh, as strong as his body allows him. He can't do anything anymore, he's fucking useless, he can't do a damn thing. He can't be a good captain, a good friend.

A fucking decent human being in general.

Then there came the struggling, the echo of the gunshots.

He knew he was next.

He thought he was next.

He wished he was next.

How? How could he not see the type of creature that it was Jimmy?

His crew, what once was his crew, their bodies, crudely slumped against the chairs around the table. A party, for the death and the damned, a judgment for the two sinners left in this godforsaken coffin.

Your body was on the left, next to Anya's corpse. The way blood seeped from your face told a horrifying story of your last moments on this world, at the mercy of the monster that now held him. How he wished he could have been there, to protect you, to protect all of them.

How he wished this was nothing but a nightmare, that he could wake up at any moment, go to the lounge and wait for you to appear in your groggy state, still having droll on your cheek and your uniform all messy. He would give you something to drink, maybe not coffee. The machine would always be empty.

But once again, his illusions were shattered with the piercing pain of the knife sawing his flesh.

He screamed, from the pain of his flesh being slayed and his bone being broken, from the sight of his crew rotting around a table, reduce as nothing put twisted puppets for Jimmy's entertainment, for the person he cherished and gave him a reason to keep going, the one who gave him a future, gave him bliss even if they were on the bottom of the deeps of hell and made him feel that his dreams were true, motionless in front of him, and he wasn't able to even say goodbye.

He wasn't even granted the mercy of death. The demon didn't allow it. His twisted conscience believed he could somehow redeem himself if he managed to keep him alive.

Even if it means feeding him his own leg.

Even if it means putting him in the last cryopod while the coward escaped by the least painful way.

He didn't even have the strength to curse him one last time.

As the cold ice burned his exposed flesh, he couldn't help but wonder if things could have been different somehow. If he had the strength to oppose Jimmy, to at the very least stop him from crashing the ship. Would it be different?

It probably doesn't matter anymore. Not when he is going to spend the next twenty years or so frozen in time. He doesn't want anyone to come, a captain must go down with the ship after all.

Death sounds better if you are waiting for him on the other side.

[mushbeast]

ko-fi rewards for december! i had to do herons, i can't believe how long it took me to even do herons :p the night heron has been one of my favourites to draw recently because of their funny posture. last day to sign up is this saturday, november 30th!

please keep in mind these will be quite delayed unless you want to pay for shipping due to the canada post strike, so i understand if people are hesitant to sign up right now. whatever leftovers i have you can purchase next month if you join as a "general support" member :) thanks for those who've stayed on despite this, the financial impact i've had has been scary and my ko-fi patrons mean the world to me. i'll get your rewards to you ASAP!

keep in mind i stand in solidarity with the postal workers 100%. canada post complaining about losses while also letting a strike run for two weeks because they don't want to provide better pay & working conditions shows how insane and greedy the leadership is.

⭐ you can sign up for these & other perks here ⭐

[beelinx]

Could you do Leo Valdez dating a hypnos kid..🥹🥹🥹

leo valdez dating a hypnos kid hcs

a/n: got a bit carried away </3 honestly my fav one yet it’s the cutest ever 😭 hypnos cabin ilysm

If there is one thing Leo is, it’s dedicated.

That man built a whole ship in a few months.

Sadly, a trait that comes with that attribute of his is also being very sleep-deprived.

He spends so long working on projects, he misses many hours of sleep.

Sometimes deliberately, when he’s fully immersed in a project, and sometimes he just gets distracted and completely forgets that it’s a basic human need.

Anyway, during one of these sleepless nights, he met you.

As a child of Hypnos, you definitely love sleep.

Therefore, being awake so late at night was definitely not your ideal situation.

There was plethora of loud noises coming from outside, and the council of sleepy mumbles in your cabin decided that it was you who had to check it out.

Your slippers shuffled on the ground as you grumbled about your misfortune and sleepiness.

Well, that misfortune quickly turned into quite the opposite when you knocked on the workshop’s door, and it was Leo who opened it.

You always thought he was cute, whenever you saw him around camp. But – seeing him up close felt way more different.

You shoved down your intrusive thought on how hot he looked, and simply told him to be more quiet, since others were trying to get some sleep, and staggered back to your cabin to get some more quality rest.

Well, his first impression of you was that you were just about the cutest thing ever, with your sleepy face and silly looking pajamas.

He definitely started seeking you out more and more afterwards, trying his best to make conversation with you.

He’d constantly go to your cabin, claiming he’d been having issues falling asleep.

You’d help him, obviously, but his excuse soon became futile, as you had helped him enough times for him to not be having these issues anymore.

Clovis had to straight up tell him to quit it, because he was interrupting the afternoon nap time.

After that, he starts talking to you during the campfires.

Unlike most of your siblings, you were awake during these, so he decided this was a better time than ever to make a move on you.

One of these nights, he finally asks you out, and lucky for him, you liked him, too!

Once you two were actually dating, then I guarantee he’s absolutely the sweetest <3

Leo would definitely alter his schedule so that you’d be able to hangout while you have more energy, and quiet down his work while you sleep so that you aren’t disrupted.

He got you noise-cancelling headphones so that you’d be able to nap inside his workshop without being awakened by all the loud sounds.

If you can remember your dreams then he’d be more than down to listen to you narrating all these crazy dreams.

Sometimes he’s really shocked at what your mind somehow manages to come up with.

He also asks you if you can enter his dreams, thanks to your parentage, because he would love to be with you there, too.

This one might be stereotypical but (obviously) cuddles!

Easily the best pastime activity, since it does kill two birds with one stone.

1. Getting your annoying boyfriend to finally get some rest.

2. Sleep!

Anyway… since I do have a track record of mentioning siblings, I’ll get to that.

Your siblings quite literally don’t care about him.

They weren’t very fond of him at first, especially after the nosey nights he caused, but they quickly warmed up to him.

Now they feel neutral about him!

Not the biggest fans of him when he sleeps over, though.

He talks in his sleep.

And snores (sometimes)

It can get pretty annoying…

But back to sleeping over, it’s slightly against the rules to sleep in a cabin that’s not your own, but he hasn’t gotten caught yet.

Therefore, he basically spends every night at your cabin now.

He can’t really help it, he usually has issues falling asleep, and your cabin’s just so comfortable, he rarely has any issues there.

He swears he’s never sleeps better than when he sleeps over at your cabin.

It’s just so cozy and calming.

Literally prime nap location.

His friends thank you endlessly for helping him finally get some rest.

Piper and Jason are eternally indebted to you.

Honestly I think the Hypnos cabin would be incredibly cozy and I can’t stop thinking about cuddles with a bunch of fluffy blankets and I

Leo would look so cute sleeping all bundled up there.

He never looks as peaceful as he does then, so you always make sure to take a bunch of pictures to make sure to treasure the moment.

Then you immediately put down the camera and snuggle up with him.

[littlemissmentallyunstable]

can i pretty pls request a fluffy nash oneshot 🙏🏻

one with banter somewhat similar to how he and libby talk 🙏🏻 (in the tiny moments we get of them 💔)

thank you so much for this request!! I know it was requested a while ago, so sorry it’s taken me this long. I gave it a go, but I don’t think I hit the nail right on the head with what you requested, sorry!!

title: comfort from a cowboy

pairing: nash hawthorne x reader

synopsis: you had a not-so-nice interview and nash comforts you

warnings:

a/n: for @kit4strophe 💖💖

taglist: @lovethornes @whatsamongus @wish-i-were-heather @inmyheaddd @never-enough-novels @fleuriosa @midiosaamor @sweetreveriee @emelia07 @f4iry-bell @zaraaaabear @thoughtdaughter3 @benny1989fredd @elysianwayy77 @maybxlle @sheisntyou @anintellectualintellectual @aleatorio1234 @adalia-jaycee @off-to-the-r4ces @lyra-kane @reminiscentreader @lyrakanefanatic @imaseabear @elizaa31 @loveinalocket @lanterns-and-daydreams @hermesenthusiast

My head rests against the hard wall behind me and I’ve been sat on the floor for so long my bum has gone numb. But I can’t be bothered to get up and move, I don’t have enough energy.

I replay the interview - or should I call it an interrogation - that had happened just a few hours earlier. It’s been on a sort of loop in my brain for a while now. The same blood boiling questions over and over and over. I never want to go through that again.

I hear my door open which is odd because when it’s shut usual no one bothers me, they know better than to. I don’t open my eyes immediately. I play a little game with myself, a silent game - ‘who is at the door’. Jameson? Unlikely. Grayson? Almost a definite no. Alisa? Don’t see it happening. Xander? A possibility. Nash? I doubted it. Avery? Wouldn’t be surprised. Oren? Only if there’s an emergency. Libby? Most likely.

I open my eyes and to my surprise my guess is annoyingly wrong. Usually I’m quite good at guessing games but I supposed today was an exception. Maybe it’s because there’s so much on my mind.

“What are you doing here?” I ask, scrunching up my nose at the sight of a certain texan cowboy motorcyclist.

“Careful,” he warns, the corners of his lips turning up in the slightest way, as he saunters in and sits down beside me, “you almost look happy to see me.”

“What are you doing here?” I repeat, not really in the mood for his games or anyone’s games for that matter.

“Sitting beside you,” he replies simply.

I narrow my eyes and shoot him a look, “don’t be cryptic.”

“You asked,” Nash shrugs, acting so laid back he was nearly horizontal.

“Why are you here?” I rephrase sharply, a tone he couldn’t ignore or twist or make light of.

“To make sure you’re alright,” he answers me earnestly, something in his deep hazel eyes that resembled concern.

“Well I’m fine, there we go,” I say shortly, “end of story, goodbye, the door is to your left.”

I close my eyes again and tilt my head back to rest on the wall, assuming he’d leave at my finalisation.

“I’m very aware of where the door is,” he drawls, “but that doesn’t mean I’m going to use it.”

I internally scream in frustration and then open my eyes to meet his.

“Look I’m not in the mood for socialising right now,” I explain, trying hard not to sound too angry and defensive otherwise me might keep prying.

Nash is understanding. If I told him this, maybe he’d understand a kindly leave me be.

“You don’t have to socialise with me,” he says calmly, the soothing quality of his voice making it almost impossible for me to be mad at him.

“Fine,” I snap, standing up and perching myself on the end of my bed.

I won’t socialise. He can sit there bored out of his mind for all I care, in fact I hope he does. I lay back on the bed my head hitting the mattress with a soft thud. I want to sleep and rid myself of being such a prisoner to my own thoughts but for some reason I can’t bring myself to. And I know that reason is called Nash Hawthorne.

“Say something,” I groan sitting up.

If we have the conversation he so clearly wants, then he would leave, then I could sleep. Simple.

“What?” he asks, eyebrows furrowed.

“Just say something,” I exasperate, “the silence is killing me.”

A small smirk plays on his lips, “what happened to no socialising?”

“Just shut up and stay something,” I nearly yell.

“That phrase is one confusing oxymoron,” he chuckles, shaking his head.

“You’re a moron,” I reply, snarkily.

He laughs at me. It was a real laugh, not a pity one. His eyes are lit up and the smile fills his face. It is a pretty laugh, I think that’s what annoys me the most. I liked it.

“Tell me something,” I press on, “anything.”

He pauses for a minute. And then another. And then another. Until the pause is so long I wonder if he’s going to talk at all. Slowly he makes his way beside me again and looks deep into my eyes like he can read them.

“You don’t like all this,” he begins, “you didn’t ask for it, you wish you could go back to your old life but feel selfish and guilty to wish that because people would die to be in your situation.”

I try not to betray my shock but I’m awful at hiding my thoughts and feelings. My face probably says it all. Part of me is angry. He shouldn’t know this. I shouldn’t be this easy to read. It’s not fair. The other part is touched that someone care this much.

I fold my arms protectively across my chest and raise my eyebrows, “and who are you to tell me that?”

“An observer,” he says, almost gently.

“Stop observing me,” I tell him, “I’m not a project.”

“Oh I would never dream of considering you a project,” he replies, his voice deep in the back of his throat.

I move in closer, pinning him with an accusing look, “then what do you consider me?”

“Hold your horses, darlin’, I’m asking the questions here,” Nash grins, something about the way the light sparkles in his eyes gets under my skin.

“Says who? And don’t call me darling,” I tell him bluntly.

“Says me,” he shrugs nonchalantly.

He doesn’t add a darlin’ on the end and part of me respects him for that. If I’d been talking to anyone else they probably would’ve tried to piss me off even more. But Nash isn’t like that, he never has been.

“Well I don’t care what you have to say,” I quip.

“I never asked you to care,” he replies, his voice reminding me of a waveless sea.

I glance at him and find his eyes are already on me, I exhale slowly and ask him one more time, “why are you here?”

“To make sure you’re okay,” he answers in an instant. No double meanings, no puzzles, no avoidance, just a straight answer. But it takes me by surprise just as much.

I try to cover my true feelings, “why wouldn’t I be okay?”

“I saw it,” Nash tells me softly, apology decadently laced through his eyes.

He was referring to the interview of course. I didn’t know he watched mine like I watched his.

“I told you not to watch,” I scowl.

“I’m not very good at listening,” he shrugs.

“Clearly,” I roll my eyes, playing with the fabric of my jumper sleeve to avoid looking at him.

“So are you okay?” he asks, again his voice stole that gentle tone that made my heart melt into mush.

“I’m fine,” I reply, keeping my tone cold and hard.

Of course I’m not fine. I am anything but fine. But saying you’re fine is so much easier than talking through the hard parts, the truth. And sometimes if you pretend it’s fine for long enough you can trick yourself into believing it too.

“I know what happened,” he reminds me with a tenderness that made my limbs ache to curl against his body.

“And I’m fine,” I say sharply, still in denial, still trying to be too stubborn for my own good.

“Well now you’ve told me twice it makes it all the more real,” he barks out a laugh.

I roll my eyes.

“Why do you care so much anyway,” I scoff.

“You’re important.”

The answer is lightning fast, almost like a reaction. It doesn’t have to be thought about, pondered or even considered. It’s just engraved into his brain as the thing that feels more natural, the most ‘right’ to reply with.

“What?”

“You’re important and I care that you’re okay,” he says.

I don’t know what mix of emotions hit my chest, I just know they hit with an impact that knocks all the air out of my lungs. He cares. I’m important to him. He wants to know I’m okay.

“What are you hiding under that cowboy hat?”

He almost chokes on his own spit in surprise. Then gain composure and leans back, raising an eyebrow, “you’re changing the subject?”

“Answer my question,” I demand, narrowing my eyes.

“What do you mean what am I hiding under my cowboy hat?” he muses with a sweet small smile.

“Well you have it on 24/7,” I explain, “so I presume you’re hiding something.”

“Just because something is covered up doesn’t mean it’s hiding something,” he says ,”and it goes both ways, just because something looks normal doesn’t mean it’s not hiding something.”

I have a feeling he’s not talking about cowboy hats anymore.

“I did what I had to do,” I reply.

“Stayed silent?” he asked.

“It was better,” I press on.

A flicker of rage flashes through his face, “people don’t get to talk to you like that.”

“I know,” I yell back.

“Then why did you let them,” he asks me, annoying not raising his voice to escalate the situation.

I fancy a good yelling match in this moment with all the anger built up inside of me, he can see that and he isn’t giving in. I can’t tell if I like him more for doing that or not.

“Not every battle is worth fighting,” I snap back, “you should know that better than anyone.”

“I do,” he replies, almost cautiously, “but some are.”

“If people see you’ll fight everything you throw at them they will use that against you,” I tell him, “if you act unbothered in the first place you can surprise them one day and fight back.”

“You’re a tactical thinker,” Nash comments.

“Who cares what I am?” I reply.

His voice softens with every feature of his face, “I care.”

And there it is again. That mix of emotions with impact just hurling towards my chest. I never know what to say, it steals all my words before I get to say them. So silence consumes us, as if we’re two eskimos dead in the snow, the frostbite gnawing at our frozen bodies.

“You don’t have to act tough in front of me darlin, I can see right through you,” he murmurs, so softly I wonder why I didn’t just melt on the spot.

“Don’t call me darling,” I snap, avoiding his eyes.

I’m worried if I look into them I’ll tell him everything. And I can’t risk pouring everything out, not when I’ve hidden it so well for this long.

“I’m here,” he says desperately.

I feel as his hand clasps around mine, giving it two squeezes. Reassurance. My heart pounds in my chest. I want to tell him, I want to be free of my problems, I want someone to help me. But I’d promised myself I wouldn’t.

“I know,” I pause for a long while and he lets me, “it’s just hard.”

My voice cracks at the last word. After being so steady for so long it was bound to happen at some point.

“I know,” he says delicately, “believe me, I know.”

I let one tear slip down my cheek but as it rolls down, for my dignity he pretends not to notice. Always a gentleman.!

“I hate people,” I whisper, “they really suck.”

It was all I could manage without completely breaking down.

“I hate people too,” he agrees. I let him put an arm around me and I hesitantly lean into his chest.

I make a strangled laughing sound, “we should start a club.”

He sighs and quietly asks, “do you want to leave this place?”

“No,” I hesitate slightly, “and yes, but I’m not going to.”

“Is that what you really want?” Nash asks earnestly, a kind look in his eyes that is rare to find in any human being.

“Yeah, for now,” I nod.

“Good,” he says, “I’m glad you’re staying.”

“You’d miss me if I was gone?” I look up to him and raise my eyebrows.

“Of course,” he replies, “you’re one of us, your family now.”

I smile, my cheeks warming up to tint a rosy colour. I sniff as I let him wipe my final tear away with the soft pad of him thumb. There’s a moment that we lock eyes and neither of us dare look away. We both are very still. It’s like time isn’t moving.

When his thumb finally leaves my cheek all I can think about is how I want his touch there again. It’s like I need it now. Like how a drug addict craves a needle in their arm. The absence of that feeling of his skin on mine is horrible.

“Besides who will I have to call me a moron if you go away,” he jokes, tilting his cowboy hat towards me.

“You are pure cheek Nash Hawthorne,” I poke my tongue out.

“I’ve heard that one before in many different contexts,” he smirks with a wink.

Who knew Nash Hawthorne looked so good when he winked?

I gape in shock, “who knew you could make crude jokes!?”

“I may be the eldest and most responsible but who do you think taught everything to Jamie?” he asks.

“I’d never thought of that before,” I reply.

He shrugs in a very Nash kind of way, “welcome to the inner workings of being a Hawthorne.”

“Should I be flattered to be so privy to such important information?” I grin batting my eyelashes at him.

He moves in, “that depends on how much you value it.”

Our faces are inches apart. I feel something in my chest. Aside from my heart racing, there’s a feeling deep within my heart. It’s warm and tingly and tender. It’s sweet but bitter at the same time, and yet I still crave it.

“Let’s make a deal,” he whispers, our noses so close they could be touching.

“Is this a Hawthorne kind of deal?” I question in a murmur.

“Well what other kind of deal would it be,” Nash says, pulling back a little disappointing me slightly.

Still, I raise an eyebrow and cock my head to the side telling him to continue

“You don’t put up your wall anymore and you talk to me about your problems,” he proposes.

“A deal has two sides Hawthorne,” I remind him.

“Indeed it does,” he nods, “so name your price.”

“You learn when to shut up,” I say.

“What?”

“When I say I’m not in the mood for socialising understand it and move on,” I reply.

I wouldn’t be having the conversation if he’d just left me alone to start with. Not that I’m complaining, this conversation is rapidly becoming my favourite yet, but he doesn’t need to know that.

“Deal.”

We take each others hands and with a firm shake the deal is bound.

“Starts today,” Nash adds, “now.”

“Perfect,” I smile mischievously, “then I think you should stop talking.”

“See I don’t think I-“

“Shhhh,” I shush him.

“But-“

“Shut up.”

“Mouth is shut!” he exclaims trying not to laugh.

“Forever?” I challenge.

“Can’t keep me quiet for that long darlin’,” he drawls.

“I can try,” I reply.

“You’re setting yourself up for failure,” he sing songs.

I put my finger on his lips and this time physically he can’t suppress him smile.

“How does failure taste?” I murmur.

“Like something you’ll enjoy,” he counters, talking against my fingertips. I can’t help but grin.

“Wanna get out of here for a bit, get some fresh air?” he asks me.

“Do I,” I sigh, dropping my hand from his mouth, relieved he finally asked

“Come on darlin’,” Nash says.

I don’t tell him not to call me darling. In fact it’s growing on me. He holds my hands, they’re warm against my cold palms and gently pulls me off of the bed.

“Where are we going?” I stand up, tilting my head to the side in question.

He flashes me a grin, “how do you feel about motorcycle rides?”

I did my research girl 🤭🤭 a little reread of tig never hurt anyone and the libby/nash content is too cute!! I feel like I didn’t really capture the right kind of banter because it was more sensitive so maybe I’ll do another one with more banter, so sorry about that xx hope you enjoyed anywaysss and thanks for your request

[staybabblingbaby]

Best Friend Protocol #14 (Team Meeting part)

[Caution: These are not full fics, or even full parts of fics for some, these are part of my writing progress archive!]

Concept: You're Felix's childhood friend, and you and he have been planning a visit to see him for his birthday for what feels like years now. Unfortunately, SKZ is a very busy group, and the week-long vacation you'd planned for doesn't seem possible.Until Felix decides to ask his bandmates a favor...

Word Count: 2672

Notes: IT'S FINALLY HERE! ALL HAIL THE LEGENDARY FIRST WRITTEN PART OF BFP! I meant to have this out over a week ago, but it's here now! I will be attempting to get a regular chapter out here shortly to fulfil my promised 4 november chapters. Wish me luck! Huge shout out to one of my beautiful beloved betas, @brbwritingfanfic for taking the time to make sense of this damn thing lmao. I appreciate you spotting all my errors, you a real one <3 For those familiar with my archive style and curious, this is A3D2 for this chapter. It was kicking my ASS. If enough folks are interested I don't mind releasing the other attempts, but BFP is a bit divorced from the usual archive proceedings, so I'll leave that up to y'all. I actually really loved how Felix's character came through here, and i'm pretty pleased with how the dialogue turned out. My poor fiance had to sit through like 5 separate rants about how i could not roll back the details enough and kept having to scrap dialogue so it sounded less like AI attempting classical literature.

Warnings: She/Her Reader. Sort of? Polyamory negotiations. More like, the possibility is tossed out there.

Leave me comments or questions or anything! Love hearing from folks

Additional Note: I'm always taking interaction requests. Just fyi

Masterlist | Prev Part | Next Part (coming soon!)

The meeting goes something like this;

They pile into the living room of his and Seungmin’s shiny new dorm without discussion. It makes Felix both nervous and grateful. They’ve always had these meetings wherever Chris happened to be, before. It feels like an unspoken declaration of allegiance. Like they’re letting Felix take the lead, here.

The pressure is kind of getting to him already, as they all settle in. He doesn’t even know how he feels about it all himself, making a decision doesn’t seem like something he should be in charge of right now.

Still, he’s grateful. They’re being so mindful of him in this, and he kind of wants to cry about it. He feels seen, and loved. A bit too seen, maybe, but as embarrassing as it is he’s still a bit gooey inside about it.

Felix drags a beanbag over to where Hyunjin has settled on the couch, plopping down to lean against the other man’s legs. A hand automatically goes to bury itself in his hair, like an anchor against Felix’s stormy thoughts.

The grounding warmth of one of his best friends soothes Felix as Chris calls the meeting to order.  

“So!” Their leader casts an inquiring gaze around the room, “Who wants to start? Where are we at right now?”

A few glances are cast Felix’s way, but he tips his head back against Hyunjin’s knees to avoid their eyes. Everyone must get the message, because no one prompts him.

Jisung is the one who eventually bites the bullet, and Felix sends a silent ‘thank you’ to his birthday buddy.

“Well, I’d like to clarify everyone’s, like, goal in this?” Jisung puts forward tentatively, “Because I’m at the point where it’s more of a ‘I’d like to get to know her’ thing than a ‘I want to date her’ thing.” he shrugs to himself, “I haven’t talked to her much yet, I just think she’s cool.”

“I’m a little bit smitten,” Changbin admits from across the room. He gives Felix an apologetic grimace, but all Felix can do is wave him off with a worried smile. 

“We talked for quite a while the other day and, I dunno... We clicked? I guess? I feel like we did, anyway. I kind of want to see where that could go if we let it.” 

Changbin sends an almost appealing look to Felix as he speaks, and honestly? Super awkward for Felix right now.

Because, see, Felix’s first instinct is to get super defensive and shut everything down. He doesn’t really want to be talking about this, and it scratches at something delicate and boyish in him that they’re having this discussion at all.

It’s embarrassing to know that the feelings he’s kept so close to his chest for so many years are out in the open. It feels a bit like a betrayal that this meeting is about the fact that most of his friends have feelings for the girl he’s had a crush on basically his whole life, instead of planning how to get him to stop being stupid about said crush.

It’s just... Uncomfortable. On so many levels. An ugly monster wants to tear out of Felix’s throat as he locks eyes with Changbin, but a light scratch at his scalp from Hyunjin stalls the beast.

Right. Felix reminds himself that these aren’t any old friends. These aren’t just some acquaintances he could burn bridges with, or strange men he had to protect his angel from.

No, these were his brothers, the people he’d shed blood, sweat, and tears with. The men he’d lived with, grown with, the guys who’d seen more of him than any other person in the world.

Felix finds it in himself to spare Changbin a strained smile. He means it to be reassuring, but he’s so tangled up in his thoughts right now that it’s the best he can offer. The older man seems grateful for it anyway.

He turns his gaze up to Hyunjin, the catalyst of all this, and Felix’s current rock in the storm. He tries to keep in mind how much he loves these people as he moves the conversation forward.

He has to hear them out, at least.

“Thoughts, Hyun?” Felix gently inquires. 

Hyunjin briefly presses his lips together, gathering his thoughts into words. 

“I’ve been pretty open in my flirtation from the start, I think.” he finally says, “So I guess I’m more surprised that anyone else is? Surprised, I mean.”

Felix has to hand him that one. For all that his ‘no flirting’ rule had been mostly a joke, it did mean that he’d expected them to flirt with her. 

He wonders what makes things different now? He’d been okay with the flirting when he’d thought everyone was just joking around, has anything really changed now that he knows it’s real?

Felix sits with that thought while Minho throws his two cents in.

“I don’t think surprised is the right word,” their second eldest ponders aloud, “I’m personally more... worried about how this might work out.” He draws the words out slowly, like he’s tasting the flavor of them before he speaks.

It’s off-putting to hear Minho speak so cautiously- he’s usually so blunt with his words. 

“I’m more worried about how this will affect us as a group,” Minho admits, “I mean, I like her, she’s fun, but I don’t want her if it’s going to cause issues among us.”

And the older man has a point. Anything that causes discord in a group like theirs is a disaster waiting to happen. Especially something like this, where a misstep could lead to long-term resentments and jealousies.

Felix feels pressured by the group’s regard for him all over again. One word from him, and he knows it all ends. The moment he says he can’t handle this is the moment that the rest back off. The emotions won’t fade, Felix knows, but they’d do it anyways.

Because they love him.

He loves them right back.

“I really like her,” Seungmin pipes in, face blank. His eyes cast toward the floor for a moment, before rising again to meet Felix’s. “I really like her,” He repeats, “I don’t know that I would be okay with letting go without trying.”

Felix pulls his bottom lip between his teeth and nods at the younger man. His head tips toward his lap while he thinks, brow furrowing as he loses himself to his tumultuous thoughts.

It helps to hear everyone’s feelings put so bluntly, Felix thinks. Having everyone’s stances laid out clearly like a map in his mind’s eye. 

Han, who’s not invested but interested anyways.

Changbin, who’s probably in deeper than he’d really like to be.

Hyunjin, who’d been open about his intentions from the start.

Minho, who the fact that he’s even considering her means more than Felix thinks the man realizes. And yet, he’d give her up at the first seed of discord among the group.

It’s kind of heartwarming, when Felix thinks about how much love their second eldest had shown them with those words. 

Finally, there’s Seungmin. A man whose compliments are hard earned, and whose feelings are closely guarded. A man who’d just handed Felix his heart on a silver platter, trust and love etched in every word, spoken and not.

Felix’s first instinct is still to shut them down. His clouded heart tells him to scoop up his angel and hide her away like a dragon with its hoard. To claim her as his and his alone, and feel slighted if anyone tried to contest that.

But that’s not fair. Not to his members and not to her. Not even to himself.

They’d shown him respect and care every step of the way, the least he could do is give them more than a knee-jerk reaction.

“Is it really all that complicated?” Jeongin ponders aloud.

Their maknae looks almost bored from his armchair, staring at them all. His furrowed brow gives away his worry, as does the way he allows Chris to pull him into the elder’s side with an arm around his shoulders.

“I mean, it’s up to her in the end, isn’t it?” their youngest continues, “she’s the only one that can really make a final call.”

“Could we handle that?” Felix finally speaks up. It’s a little scary having everyone’s attention snap to him like that, but this is the crux of the matter, he thinks.

“If she chooses one of us, could we handle that?” he elaborates.

A contemplative silence descends over the room. Felix kind of wishes he could peek into the member’s brains at this moment. He wants to know if they’re as worried as he is, if they’re worried about the same things he is. 

Because, quite honestly, the more he thinks about it the less he really minds if they flirt with his angel.

It’s taken him this long to untangle the ugly knot of emotions in his chest, and he still can’t see all of it for what it is, but the core of it all, he thinks, is fear.

He’s afraid that, at the end of it all, he’ll be left behind. That he’ll lose two of his very best friends, his favorite people in the world, to each other.

He doesn’t think he could handle that.

It’s an unjustified fear, Felix knows. His bonds with all of these people, the seven present in the room with him and one halfway across the world, are stronger than anything. Forged in fire and elastic with time, he’s sure there’s nothing that could ever truly break them.

That doesn’t stop anxiety from creeping up his spine.

Felix lets his eyes wander around the room, landing on each of his members in turn. It’s like something in him believes that they could guide him in this, just by looking at them, the way his gaze lands heavily on each of their forms.

Hyunjin’s hand drops from his head to knead at the base of his neck, and Felix feels himself soften. A little bit of the anxiety drains from him at the comforting touch, and with it gone he can see something new under the miasma of fear and uncertainty.

It’s bright, like hope, and a bit more exciting. A giddy little thought bubbles up with it-

“What if she chose more than one of us?” Han beats him to the punch. His eyes flick between them all anxiously, looking very much like the rodent he’s nicknamed for, and when he’s met with seven confused stares and Felix’s suppressed grin, he starts to babble.

“I- I mean, we’ve all shared partners before. Like, sexually, at least. I just- I mean- We’re not strangers to sharing, is all I’m tryna say!” Han explains himself.

His shoulders rise up to cherry-red ears under the weight of their stares. Minho places a calming hand on his thigh, even as he pokes holes in the other man’s claim.

“We’ve never shared romantic partners though,” He points out, annoyingly reasonable, “That’s a completely different thing.” 

“I’d be willing to give it a shot,” Hyunjin shrugs when all eyes turn to him.

He was, admittedly, the last of them Felix had expected to back the idea. Hyunjin was the most romantic of them all, and the least likely to indulge one of them in sharing a partner or two.

“I love you guys, and I really like her,” Hyunjin states plainly, “I don’t see an issue with it.”

“So.. what? We try for, like, a.. polycule kinda thing if she wants?” Changbin questions. He scrunches up his face in concern at the concept, pointing out, “That feels a little unbalanced, doesn't it? Is it fair to hinge the whole thing on her?”

“It's going to hinge on her whether it's fair or not,” Jeongin interjects, “You all have crushes on her, not on eachother.”

“I just don’t know how comfortable I can be with that,” Changbin explains, “There’s one of her, and currently six of us. I don’t think it’s humanly possible for her to split her time enough for all of us, and it’s really unfair of us to expect it of her.”

“It could be a good thing, though,” Han argues, “None of us have the time to dedicate to a relationship how we should. Having more than one of us to turn to could be a good thing.”

“Okay, but you’re all forgetting something very important in this hypothetical,” Jeongin stresses the word, making pointed eye contact with his hyungs, “situation. She has to agree to it too. We can’t make a decision without her.”

Felix can't help but be proud of their youngest for reminding them of y/n’s place in all this. It’s not like they’d forgotten, but it was a good reminder anyway. It did feel a bit icky to be talking about their relationship with her like it was a foregone conclusion.

“I’m just saying!” Han proclaims, throwing his hands in the air, “It’s a possibility that we should be open to if it happens!”

Finally, Chris loudly claps to get everyone's attention and forestall any oncoming argument.

“Oh-kay!” he enthuses, “Let’s refocus. Show of hands, are we okay with everyone flirting with her if they want to?”

All hands go up, none of them opposed to anyone else shooting their shot. Felix pretends like all eyes aren’t on him as he easily raises his arm.

“Alright, next” Chris pushes on, “Do we think we can handle it if she chooses one of us?”

Hesitant murmurs sound around the room at this, but Felix has come to an understanding with himself during this meeting, so he speaks confidently when he says, “I think we’ll be okay.”

His words seem to reassure the others, and a ripple of agreement and gentle ribbing starts circling the room.

“Alright,” Chris nods to himself, interrupting the wave before they could get started with any mischief. He really does know them too well.

“And finally,” he starts, an indecipherable expression crossing his face, “show of hands, who’s alright with the poly thing if it comes to it?”

This subject is more divisive, Han, Hyujin, and Felix’s hands going up, but Minho and Changbin stay quiet with worried faces. Seungmin holds his arm out in front of him with his thumb held out sideways. When questioned, he just says he’s not sure how he feels about it yet.

“We’ll circle back on that later, then.” Chris decides, “I think that’s one of those things we need to be unanimous on.”

Agreements sound out, and the atmosphere relaxes. The evening quickly devolves into an impromptu game night, the group quickly descending upon Felix’s console games like a pack of hyenas.

Felix gets up to switch the TV over to his switch, intentions of strong-arming everyone into playing Mario Party in mind. Chris grabs him by the elbow as he walks by, nodding over to the kitchen. Felix follows him over, already unbearably fond. 

“You sure you're good?” Chris asks lowly, “You've been her friend the longest, and we quite literally thought you were dating her already for a while there. They'll back off if you ask, you know.” 

Felix nods, smiling softly at their leader’s care. “I'm good I promise.” he swears, “I meant it when I said I liked it when my favorite people get along.”

He turns to look through the doorway back at the living room. Despite the strange and personal nature of their conversation, jokes and laughter flow easily now. As if there was never any tension at all. 

Felix can feel himself practically melt as he looks at them, a sentiment he knows their leader shares.

“It would hurt,” Felix admits, “If she chose someone else. But there’s no one I’d trust to hurt me more, y’know?”

Chris doesn’t answer, but he doesn’t really need to. He squeezes Felix’s elbow gently as the younger dives back into the chaos, and Felix knows he’s been understood.

Worm List <3 :

@thatgirlangelb , @hyeon-yi, @velvetmoonlght, @missvanjiii, @hanniemylovelyquokka, @vegetablesarefuntables, @scribblesnsketches05, @kkamismom12, @alexateurmom, @baribaaari, @tayla2351, @heart-trees, @unicornwhisperer666, @aalexyuuuhm, @stilldontknowhoiam, @brbwritingfanfic, @kaciebello, @ririzisblu

Perma Tag List <3 : @mbioooo0000

[tncts]

✨💜SH✷P OPEN💜✨

Happy holidays everyone, my 2024 shop update is now LIVE! Featuring lots of new keychains, stationery items, risograph prints and much more. My store will be open for two weeks before closing on Friday, December 13th at 11:59pm EST. This will be the final opportunity to grab something before the year is over!

Below you will find additional info regarding the update. Please read if you are shipping to either the EU/UK or Canada! Thank you so much for being patient, I know it's been quite a while since my work has been available online to purchase. Likes + Reblogs are sincerely appreciated! Thanks for looking and happy shopping!!

✨💜 SHOP HERE 💜✨

✷ STOCK ✷ All items stocked are leftovers from the 2024 con season with a good quantity of each product available to purchase. If by chance anything sells out, I will offer preorders (depending on the item) which may ship out later to account for restocking. Anything that is marked as "Last Act" has a low quantity and will not be restocked in the future. This will be the final opportunity to purchase these items other than in person at cons if any stock is remaining after the shop closes!

✷ DAFT RALLY ✷ I know a few people expressed interest in the DP Stamp Rally prizes from Anime Expo way back when. Just to be transparent, there's only 3 available (sorry)! That includes the sticker sheet and two risograph prints along with the original packaging for the prize. While the sticker sheet will not be reprinted, there will be a listing for the risograph print I created for the rally available separately for anyone that's interested!

✷ SHIPPING: EU/UK + CANADA ✷ I will be shipping both domestically and internationally but there will be some changes this time around. Regarding shipping fees, there will be a slight increase to $25 for orders outside of the US to account for the holiday season but like domestic orders ($7), it will remain a flat fee.

While shipping is available to the EU/UK, customers will be responsible for any VAT fees on the package. I've read there is a regulation change coming that could make it impossible to send packages to the region in the future. Therefore, all EU/UK orders must be received on or by FRI, DEC 6TH to be shipped before they come into effect.

Regarding shipping to Canada, USPS has suspended all package types for delivery due to the ongoing postal strike. However, I will still be accepting Canadian orders to be held until further notice. Please keep in mind that I do not know when service will resume and it could potentially be after the holidays! Any alternative carrier would cost approximately $40 at the minimum but if a customer expresses interest, I can ship a package sooner. If you're located in Canada and are interested in a USPS alternative, please let me know in the order note and I'll contact you!

✷ TRACKING ✷ Smaller items such as stickers and patches are sent via stamped mail by default. This delivery method is low-cost and does NOT include tracking information. If your order contains small items but you would like tracking included, please include the "Tracking Add On" in your order from the shop menu. All other items will be sent through Ground Advantage and includes tracking.

Thanks for looking! ✌🏾✨

[mj-iza-writer]

Note on the story. I called these lab rats lab babies because they were raised in the lab, and are a little better cared for than rats.

Happy Thanksgiving to those celebrating. If you are not celebrating for whatever reason that you have a great day. -MJ

"D-do we get special food today sir?", Whumpee eagerly followed Whumper down the hall to Test Room 2.

"Hmm.. special food? What are you implying my dear?", Whumper looked over their shoulder to see Whumpee, "why would you get special food? I'm not testing anything with your diets right now."

"Oh, uhm... you told us about this thing where tables of food are set out. All you have to say is something you are thankful for and you get a lot of food", Whumpee eagerly walked in front of Whumper causing them to stop walking, "we were wondering if we could or maybe would have something like that. The past doctors never told us about this, though they never really talked to us anyways. You are the only one who has told us about stuff on the outside. We've never seen the outside world."

"Yes, all of you were born here in the lab.... I should say made here in the lab. The other doctors thought it would be best for you all to not know what you were missing. Plus, they didn't care to have a relationship with all of you", Whumper stepped forward, "come along, we have plenty of test to conduct, and little time to do so."

"Why did you tell us about the outside world then?", Whumpee followed.

"Why are you full of questions today?", Whumper frowned as they opened the door.

"I don't know. You say yourself a questioning mind is never bored. You haven't said no about the special food", Whumpee grinned.

"I haven't exactly said yes either my dear", Whumper grinned, "undress and climb on my table please."

Whumpee nodded and started to disrobe.

"I told all of you stories about the outside world so you can know and dream about what it looks like. Though Max thought the sky was purple until I took them outside to see that it was in fact blue", Whumper pulled out a step for Whumpee.

"Max went outside?", Whumpee looked up curiously.

"Yes, we had gotten into an argument about the sky. Max got the best of me, and I dragged them outside to prove it", Whumper sighed, "though looking back, that was probably a ploy to go outside. You were raised by scientists, so you are all quite smart."

Whumper reached into his pocket and pulled out a bag of crackers. They took one out for themself, then offered the bag for Whumpee to take one.

Whumpee happily munched on the treat as Whumper started to their test.

Whumpee eagerly sat at the front of their cell. They looked up with sad puppy eyes as scientists and nurses walked past.

"Give it up Whumpee, it isn't going to happen', someone looked at them, "you look like a pitiful dog begging for scraps."

"He didn't say no though. I've been dreaming about this since Doctor told us about it", Whumpee watched as another nurse walked past.

"I've been hoping that we could try that uhm... something -mas. That would be really cool", Pipsqueak, the youngest of the lab babies spoke up, "I would love to have a toy like one of the ones I colored in the book Doctor gave me."

"I think you mean Christmas", Max spoke up.

Whumpee nodded.

The lights dimmed slightly, a sign that a new part of the day was starting.

Whumpee sighed and slipped back against the wall. Everyone who worked there was set to go to dinner. It would be a while before someone would walk past again.

"See, I told you. They will just come by later with our meal trays. All of which will contain our specific diet regimes", they looked at Whumpee sadly, "in the end, we are only property. You got yourself excited for nothing, and even a few of us got our hopes up because of you."

Whumpee looked down, "I just wanted to know what it was like.... to be... a.. normal person", they looked up awkwardly when the door opened.

"What's going on in here?", someone came into the hall where the lab babies were kept.

"Nothing sir.... just talking", Max spoke up when everyone else kept quiet.

"Oh?", Whumper turned to look over them all, "you know there is a pretty cool party happening a few rooms over. All the scientists, nurses, and doctors are there. Even maintenance, housekeeping, and, of course, the kitchen staff are there. We realized, though. An important group is missing from the party", Whumper leaned against the wall close to the button to release all of the lab babies at once, "I suppose it wouldn't be a real family meal without our babies present. Would any of you like to come join us for Thanksgiving?"

Everyone's hand shout out of the bars of their cells.

"I thought so", Whumper chuckled and reached to press the button.

"I want you all to follow me to the room. Once there, you will get with your respective nurse, who will help you get your food together. That way, your allergies and dietary needs are met", Whumper sighed.

Whumpee excitedly skipped to Whumper.

"Yes I will help you get your tray since you don't technically have a nurse right now", Whumper grinned.

"I knew you were doing something", Whumpee looked at them excitedly.

"Did you now?", Whumper chuckled, "I did say you were all smart. Come on now get into line."

The babies got into a single file line and looked up at Whumper.

"Very good. Come on, let's get some food", Whumper grinned.

Inside of the cafeteria, everyone went to their nurse and started to look at all of the food options.

Whumper carried a new tray to Whumpee.

"Do you see anything you like?", Whumper watched as Whumpee looked over the table.

"Everything", Whumpee whispered, "I've never seen so much food", Whumpee looked up, "Is this when we say what we are thankful for?", Whumpee looked at everyone's trays.

"You can if you like", Whumper smiled, "you can't have any of the cranberry sauce, it will have a negative effect on your medication. That's your only limitation, everything else is fair game."

"I'm thankful that you are in charge of the lab now. We've never had a doctor that cares about us like you do", Whumpee looked at Whumper with innocent eyes.

"Even when my tests hurt?", Whumper started to scoop out some food.

"Yes, some the tests hurt, but that is what we are here for. In the end, we know you care, even if it's a little", Whumpee smiled.

Whumper scooped a spoonful of everything Whumpee had pointed at. Their tray was heaping when they finally sat down.

"Now, do not feel like you need to eat all of this", Whumper looked over the group, "this is your first time deciding on what you want to eat, and I think all of you went a little overboard. Especially you Pipsqueak. That is a lot of potatoes. Just eat what you can."

All of the babies looked at each other's trays.

"Do we get to eat dessert too?", Max smirked.

"Let's see how you all do with dinner first. Then we can talk about dessert", Whumper chuckled.

Whumper checked in on the babies.

Everyone had fallen back from their trays and was laying on the floor.

"My what's happened here?", Whumper chuckled.

"So much food", Pipsqueak groaned.

"You were right. We over did it", Whumpee looked up sadly, "I can't eat another bite."

"Well, it was easy to see you guys overfilled your trays. I told everyone to let you do it though. I wanted all of you to enjoy your Thanksgiving dinner. The best way to do that was to be like everyone else and overindulge. We will serve dessert tomorrow for one of your treats so you won't miss out."

Everyone nodded, "thankyou Doctor", they said in unison.

The lab babies watched and listened as everyone gathered together and talked amongst their meals.

Whumper even pulled out a few games and toys for the group to play with. The nurses and scientists joined in with the activities.

Whumper led everyone back to their cell rooms.

The nurses helped get the overfilled lab babies ready for bed.

Whumper sat down next to Whumpee's bed and played with their hair for a few minutes.

"Did you enjoy your first Thanksgiving?"

Whumper's eyes gleamed happily as Whumpee nodded.

"How about the rest of you? Did we enjoy Thanksgiving?", Whumper called to the rest.

"Yes", everyone spoke in unison.

"I am so full", Pipsqueak peaked into Whumpee's cell then followed their nurse to their own cell.

"I'm glad everyone enjoyed", Whumper stood, "tomorrow is a day off for all of you, so you all get to relax. Sound like a fair deal?"

"Thankyou", Max called from their bed, "I don't know if I'd be able to move tomorrow."

"Well, goodnight to all of you", Whumper closed Whumpee's bars, "we will see all of you in the morning."

"I'm so happy we got to experience that", Whumpee whispered loudly after the door closed, "I'm so full, but that was amazing."

"It feels strange to be allowed to do this stuff. All of our lives have been in the dark. Having experiences like this feels so wrong", someone could be heard shuffling around their cell, "is this what it feels like to be a real human?"

"I don't know. I can imagine something like this wouldn't make some as excited as it has made us", Max spoke, "maybe it's just another day for some. I'm sure others didn't have a good day today and I'm sorry for them."

"I would love to have more potatoes tomorrow", Pipsqueak giggled.

"Doctor gave us a day off tomorrow even", Whumpee remembered, "I hope this doctor never leaves us. I don't know if we'd be lucky to get another doctor like him."

Everyone sighed happily.

"Well goodnight", Max rolled over to face the wall.

"Goodnight", everyone repeated.

Pipsqueak started to giggle.

"What's so funny Pipsqueak?", Whumpee whispered.

"I wonder if that means we will get to have Christmas", Pipsqueak whispered.

"Both of you go to bed", someone warned.

"Sorry", Pipsqueak and Whumpee giggled again, "Goodnight."

Taglist. As always please let me know if you want to be added or taken off of the list. It's not a problem at all.

@villainsandheroes @the-beasts-have-arrived

@sacredwrath @porschethemermaid

@monarchthefirst @generic-whumperz

@bloodyandfrightened @freefallingup13

@notpeppermint @cyborg0109

@idontreallyexistyet @painfulplots

@whumpbump @everythingsscary

@skittles-the-whumpee @expressionless-fr

@theforeverdyingperson @legendarydelusiongoatee

@candleshopmenace @whumpanthems

@lavndvrr @ivymyers

@starfields08000 @a-living-canvas

@lumpofsand @watermeezer

@indigoviolet311 @whumpy-mountains

@3-2-whump @risk606

@electrons2006 @paperprinxe

@whumprince @kaz-of-crows

@mis-graves @decaffeinatedtimetraveler94

@sausages-things @castiels-favorite-hunter

@isikedmyself878 @daffyduckcommittedtaxfraud

@valravnthefrenchie @glennemerald

@jasperthecapser @does-directions

@deafeninglittlecrown @jumpywhumpywriter

@blackbirdsinatrenchcoat @mylifeisonthebookshelf

@thenormalestever @whatwhump

@galatic-worm @starmoon-constellation

[lilmarshie]

A Chance Encounter | B. Barnes x Reader

Entangled Fates, Chapter One

A Victorian Era AU

Y/N - your name

Bucky, a young aristocrat, attends a prestigious ball, feeling out of place among the opulence and superficiality. The lace and opulence was far too much for his liking. He wanted to spend more time outdoors in his element rather than holed up inside attending a party.

Y/N, a brilliant but underprivileged scholar, manages to secure an invitation to the ball through a benefactor, hoping to make important connections for your future. This was going to be monumental for your future career and you were very fortunate to be able to attend such a prestigious gathering.

You arrived promptly at 7pm on the dot, dressed in a beautiful maroon and navy dress, that sparkled ever so slightly in the dim light of the building. The ball was being held in a sprawling home on a few acres. It had a tall, pitched roof featuring brickwork and decorative tiled hallways throughout the home. The home also boasted massive ornate fireplaces in every room, a beautiful front porch, and gorgeous stained glass windows. A butler, was there to greet you at the door, ushering you into the grand foyer and over to two massive doors that led into a lavish but cozy ballroom. There were sprawls of people standing in what seemed to be every corner of the room. Mingling amongst each other, while servants catered to the whims of the partygoers.

Amidst the crowd, you locked eyes with a man who had dark chocolate brown hair which was neatly slicked back. He was dressed in a meticulously pressed dark gray suit that accentuated his features. You locked eyes briefly with this man before turning away embarrassment visible on your face. You knew that you didn’t fit in here but you needed to do this for the sake of your future.

You went to go and grab a place of pastries and a cup of tea to keep your mind occupied. “I don’t need to get involved in whatever this man does. He may be strikingly good looking but I can’t get involved.” You think, as you wander off to a nearby table, the plate in your hands filled to the brim with the delicious treats. You noticed that this man kept his eyes on you the entire time. He began to make his way over to you. “Ahem.” The man says, as you swallow a bite of one of the pastries. “I wanted to introduce myself. I haven’t seen you around before. My name is James Buchanan Barnes. But you can call me Bucky.” He says, with a huge grin. His hand was extended to shake hands with yours. You reach over the table and shake his hand with a smile. “Pleasure to meet you, Bucky.” You say, as you shake his hand warmly.

“How are you enjoying everything?” Bucky asks, his hands now clasped in his lap as he watches you intently. “It’s been very nice to be invited here. I never thought I would ever be able to attend an event such as this.” You say, with a wistful sigh. “This is honestly a dream come true. I am but a simple scholar and I have dreamed of a moment such as this.” You say, as you drink a sip of tea that was swiftly brought to you by one of the many attentive servants. “I’m very glad to hear that, y/n.” Bucky says, as he takes a sip of tea as well. His brown eyes twinkling in the low light. He was contemplating whether or not to tell you why he was there before clearing his throat softly.

“How about we step outside to continue our conversation? I’m quite enjoying myself here with you. And I’d love to get to know you better.” Bucky smiled, as he finished his cup of tea before standing up and extending his arm out towards yours. Nodding, you link arms with Bucky’s and make your way outside, into the cold London air. Bucky leads you out into the porch and you sit next to him on one of the benches outside. The dim oil lamps faintly lighting up the space between you.

Over the next couple of hours, Bucky shares with you his thoughts about what’s going on with society, his dreams about the future, and business opportunities that he has awaiting him. You mention that your benefactor has secured the invitation for the ball tonight as well as helped you become the scholar that you are today. Without them, you confessed, you would be in a far worse situation.

As the evening draws to a close, Bucky makes a promise to meet again, with you, at a later date. He takes down your address and with a kiss to your hand, and once more to your cheek, promises to write to you soon. Before disappearing back inside to the swarms of partygoers.

You were eager to meetup with Bucky again however that meeting would occur. James Buchanan Barnes has captivated you in ways that you never imagined. And you were awaiting that moment with anticipation.

Little did you know, that Bucky went home that night happier and hopeful, than he’s ever been.

[dollsanddandy]

Byler doubt has seeped into my mind and the thing about it is I see an argument for Mileven and Byler.

I will briefly mention that the fact we hardly see Will and Eleven interact onscreen kills me. These two understand the Upside Down and supernatural crap in a way the whole group does not and it kills me we don’t see them talk about it. Not only that, but they are among the most selfless of the group and they have received nothing in return.

Anyway, here’s my reasoning for both:

Originally I was like “Y’know what? Yeah, Will hasn’t got a single good thing going for him like the entire show, he deserves something good and Byler canon would be perfect.” But couldn’t the same be said for Eleven? She’s suffered just as much if not more. If anyone deserves someone romantically I’d argue it’s her over Will.

However, I am not saying Eleven needs a man. What Eleven has always needed most was a sense of belonging and an exploration into who she is. In support of Byler it would make the most sense that she needs to explore her autonomy and figure out who she is and what she wants. Her whole life has been for everyone but her. As much as Hawkins needs Eleven’s help, I hope we can spend some time for her to discover herself and gain control of her life in Season 5. Her best future would be without Mike romantically, it would be with Mike and the party platonically. She needs support and love from friends and family. She needs to know she has value beyond what she can do for others and beyond her powers. She needs to know she matters.

Eleven wants to feel like a normal teenage girl and doesn’t want to feel like she’s wrong or a mistake. Max gave her the chance to be a normal teenage girl and Eleven’s happiest memories are from time spent with Max. I’d also like to add that these moments with Max subvert the makeover trope because she wants Eleven to discover what she likes rather than Max choosing for her. Max has always wanted to give Eleven exactly what she wants: autonomy and normalcy.

Will needs romantic love. Eleven needs support and platonic love from those around her, and while Will needs support as well, him receiving romantic love would help him justify his existence. He feels like a mistake and that his love for Mike is wrong. Will gave up on Mike’s love in an attempt to save Eleven’s relationship. Will needs to feel like he matters, especially to his best friend and possible love interest Mike. Will receiving Mike’s love would complete his arc with him understanding he’s not a mistake, his love is normal and natural. He has been pushed aside for too long and the boy needs some serious love, care, affection and attention. At this point in the story Will must feel incredibly hopeless and without a future. His friends no longer have interest in his interests, he doesn’t appear to have any friends in California, he’s given up on his crush on Mike and the world is quite literally ending right before his eyes.

Mike’s love saving Will from Vecna and the end of the world and finally understanding what has really been going on between these two best friends would be a gorgeous choice narratively. “Yes we can play D&D and Nintendo in my basement for the rest of our lives, I love you.” This narrative would disprove his idea that he would never fall in love. It would be a beautiful message to all gay people, you’re not a mistake, you’re worthy of love. It would also explain to Will it was never about wanting to leave “childish” things behind, it was always about fear and internalized homophobia.

Now, let’s talk Michael Wheeler. Will and Mike have a falling out over Mike and Lucas not wanting to play D&D with him in ST3. Then Will leaves and suddenly in ST4 the remaining core four members are playing D&D again? My theory is that Mike playing D&D was his way of connecting with Will. D&D was their medium to be their true selves and when they stop playing D&D and Will leaves, Mike feels like he lost Will. I think Mike was the first to show interest in the Hellfire Club and by playing it with his friends he hoped to recreate the same feelings of happiness when he used to play D&D. However, it doesn’t work which is why Mike doesn’t appear happy in early ST4. When they beat Eddie’s campaign we don’t see him celebrating with his friends and that’s when he begins to realize what’s wrong: It doesn’t feel the same. He doesn’t miss playing D&D, he misses Will. It was never about the fantasy role playing game, it was always about how he was able to spend time playing with the boy he loves.

Anyway, here’s some honorable mentions and details I’d like to talk about:

Max and Eleven the duo you are 💗☹️ I really wish we had more moments for them as friends, I feel like Eleven would’ve really been there for Max while she was depressed following the events of ST3.

I feel like Eleven’s supernatural plot for ST5 should be focused on Max, it would make more sense that she and Lucas are trying to free someone who meant so much to them. Max was the most positive influence on Eleven next to Hopper. Beyond that, Eleven should have some time to discover her wants to some extent this season. She’s more than a weapon.

I think it’s so interesting how Will and Eleven are almost foils. In ST1-2 it’s almost like they cannot be on the same place at once (Will gets taken to the UD, Eleven has to save him, Will is saved, Eleven replaces his spot in the UD, Will is possessed, Eleven returns to help him, Will is freed and Eleven must return to hiding until the Snowball. It’s a very interesting choice), they need the opposite forms of love and Eleven is empowered to fight while Will is only able to flight.

There are a few parallels between the two, such as Mike’s “love” hurting both Will and Eleven and strangely enough the love they need from Mike is the opposite of the love they’re receiving from him. They also both feel like monsters or “othered” because of things that they aren’t in control of.

My recent obsession has been Mike Wheeler edits with “Like Him” as the song

I need Stranger Things 5 trailer now right now please please pleaseeee

This was written way better but I was outside the app too long so my progress was lost 😭🤚

[iloveelvisss]

Hiiiii!!! If you have time, I would like to request a fic of cowboy!Elvis X shy!reader.

Now, this one can be a little blurb or a whole fic, I do not mind, whatever makes you comfortable girliee 🫶

Where reader is entering a bar(could be in modern times) from being on the road for 6 hours straight moving to a new house in another state and when she's walking around shyly, trying to be as small as possible, Elvis notices her and immediately becomes obsessed with her and decides to go flirt?

Kinda random but I think that would be so cute🤭

Take all the time you need!❤️

Awww, ofccc!!! Love this just like I love talking to you about our man💓. Hope I can do you justice with this!!!

Cute lil’ cowboy (Elvis fic)

Pairing: cowboy!Elvis x shy!Reader

Summary: While driving to your new home, you stop in at a small town bar, just wanting a break from the long trip. You catch the eye of a certain local cowboy and he tries his hand at opening you up.

Warnings/triggers: None, I don’t think. Mostly just fluff💓

At this point, you sort of wished you’d said no to the job offer. All it was, was a secretary position for some big company, and you thought now that you’d been on the road for six whole hours, that your old job was much better. And your old apartment was quite comfortable (it wasn’t, you just wanted another thing to complain about on this torturous car trip).

So as you pulled into the next town, you park your car outside a quaint little bar. The town is small, and it’s quite obvious, but you desperately need a break from this awful drive, so you get out anyways.

But your introverted self regrets it as you enter the bar, and the little bell on the door alerts every patron of your out-of-place presence. Every single pair of eyes zero in on you, and you suddenly feel as though you can’t breathe. You’ve always been shy— your mother always tried to get you out of such a habit. But in situations like being in a bar in a town you’ve never been before, with people that look like they’re judging your every move, you lose your ability to speak— or look up from the floor.

Unbeknownst to you, one particular pair of eyes can’t look away, even after everyone else has went back to minding their own business. Elvis just thinks you’re absolutely gorgeous. The way you so obviously feel uncomfortable is just adorable to him. He wants to talk to you— no needs to talk to you. He wants to know who’s under the cute little shy cover. You intrigue him in a way no other passing-through woman has.

He saunters over to you, and he’s keen on the way your eyes widen— it makes him smile. He tips his hat as he sits beside you. “Hi there. Ain’t seen ya before, what’s yer name, darlin’?” He makes sure to pile on the charm, putting on his most attractive smile.

And then there’s a large amount of time where he just gets to watch you sputter and act like a child that can’t speak yet. But all the while he’s smiling, finding your shyness endearing.

Finally, after what feels like an agonizingly long time, you sigh and find your words, “I- I’m… I’m Y/N. S’ nice to meet you,” you smile cutely and awkwardly stick out your hand, to which he presses a soft kiss to. “Aw, well that’s a pretty name for pretty lil’ thing like you. My name is Elvis,” he sets your hand down and then stuns you with piercing eye contact— his eyes are absolutely beautiful, so blue and electric. “Now, what brings ya in here?”

You look around before attempting to maintain eye contact again. “Needed a break from my road trip. I’m moving for a job.” You smile back at him and he swears it almost makes him drop dead. He nods along, “I see, I see. So ya wanna ‘nother drink, darlin’? S’ on me.”

It’s about then that you backtrack on your earlier thoughts, and are actually quite grateful you stopped in here. You also find yourself wondering what his pretty lips would be like to kiss. He seems to notice because a small smirk shows up on said lips. You shake yourself from your trance, “U- um, yes. Yeah, that’d be great, thank you so much.” You stumble over your words, embarrassed you’d been caught staring. He notices your blush, but it only makes him smirk even more.

He nods and asks the bartender, who you now know is Albert, for two beers. And then for the next thirty minutes, he pulls out all the tricks to get you out of your shell— it works. You’re giggling and talking and having an amazing time by the time you finish your beer.

You look up from a giggling fit to his eyes piercing into you with an expression you can quite place. All you know is that it sends butterflies flying through your belly. “What…?”

Your tone is nervous, thinking maybe he’s lost interest or something, or that your laugh has made him question himself— you’ve always been a chronic overthinker. But he makes you gasp as he reaches up and pushes some of your hair behind your ear.

His voice is gentle and sweet— reverent, “I wanna kiss ya. Would ya like that, honey?”

Your breath leaves you and you just stare at him with wide eyes for at least two minutes. He starts to pull away, second-guessing himself, as you begin nodding. He then smiles dazzlingly.

It seems like the world stops as he leans in. His lips feel plush and oh so amazing as they press against yours. You respond almost immediately, and fireworks shoot off.

When he pulls back, he’s already grinning. “How ‘bout ya jus’ get back on the road in the mornin’? My house makes for a great hotel.”

You find yourself giggling yet again as you nod, “I think that’s a great idea. Thank you, Elvis.”

I’ve come to the realization that I just don’t like any of my writing and I’m my biggest critic, but I wanted to get this out like I promised. Much love to all of you lovies, and I hope you might enjoy anyway?😋🤠 (also Happy Thanksgiving to everyone who celebrates).

Tags: @queenstarlight @jhoneybees (lmk if you wanna be added)

[thesecondhandwoman]

BEST FRIENDS

Powder x f!reader

(not an actual ship)

Summary: You were one of the new little kids that Vander had taken in ever since he found you lost and alone, but ever since, you’ve been feeling left out. Powder, like she always was, was able to notice that, and decided that maybe she might be able to make an new best friend.

The Last Drop was quieter than usual. Vander hummed softly as he wiped down the bar, his large hands working deftly with a cloth. Seated on one of the high stools, you sat with your knees drawn to your chest, eyes fixed on the scuffed wooden surface. You had been here for a week now, taken in by Vander after finding yourself lost in the chaos of Zaun.

The other kids—Vi, Mylo, and Claggor—were nice enough. But they were older, louder, and already close-knit. Vi tried to include you once or twice, but her boldness overwhelmed you. Mylo’s teasing made you shrink further, and Claggor, though kind, simply followed the lead of his friends. You were too shy to try harder, and they seemed unsure how to break through the invisible barrier you’d built around yourself.

Powder, however, was different.

The youngest of the group, Powder spent much of her time tinkering or tagging along with Vi. She’d noticed you, of course, always sitting quietly in the background, as if trying to become invisible. Powder wasn’t sure why, but you reminded her of herself—how she felt sometimes when Vi and the others left her behind on more daring escapades.

So today, as you sat on the bar stool, head resting on your arms, Powder hesitated for a moment before clambering up onto the stool next to you.

“Hi,” she said, her voice soft and a little hesitant.

You glanced up, surprised. “Hi,” you mumbled, your voice barely above a whisper.

Powder swung her legs back and forth, the tips of her shoes not quite reaching the floor. She fiddled with her fingers nervously, then blurted, “Wanna hear about my idea? It’s… it’s for a monkey bomb.”

You blinked at her, tilting your head slightly. “A… monkey bomb?”

Powder nodded eagerly, her shyness melting away as excitement took over. “Yeah! So, it’s like a little toy monkey, but it has, uh, stuff inside it. Boom stuff.” She threw her hands up in a dramatic explosion, grinning. “When you wind it up, it claps its cymbals, and then—BOOM!”

Your eyes widened, a small giggle escaping your lips. Powder’s grin grew wider. “It’s not done yet, though,” she admitted, swinging her legs again. “But I’m gonna make it work someday.”

You smiled shyly, your earlier nervousness easing under her bright enthusiasm. “That sounds… cool.”

Powder’s cheeks flushed with pride. “You think so?”

You nodded, and she beamed. “Maybe, um, you could help me someday? If you want to,” she added quickly, her voice suddenly quieter. “Vi says I’m too messy, but… I think it’d be fun. And not so scary if we did it together.”

You hesitated for a moment, then gave her a small smile. “Okay.”

The word was quiet, but it made Powder light up like a firecracker. “Really? Awesome!” She hopped off her stool and grabbed your hand, her small fingers wrapping tightly around yours. “We’ll be the best team! Like, super secret inventor buddies.”

You couldn’t help but laugh softly at her excitement, the sound surprising even you. Powder’s grin turned mischievous. “Come on, I’ll show you my workshop! Just don’t tell Vi—it’s a secret.”

As she tugged you off the stool and toward the back room, your heart felt a little lighter. Powder chattered away about her ideas and plans, her hand warm and steady in yours. For the first time in a long while, you didn’t feel so alone.

And from that day forward, Powder became your best friend, the one person who could always make you smile—even with talk of monkey bombs.

Reminder: I’m trying to cope, and making cute little best friends was the first thing that came to mind.

[innytoes]

The call came in just as he was sticking more photos to his board. He was so close to cracking this case, he just needed a little more evidence. Maybe find a source willing to talk to him. Either willingly or unwittingly, at this point he didn’t even care. He wouldn’t reveal his sources anyway, and if he could just figure out where to find something damning…

“Boldheart,” he said into the phone, attention still mostly on the board. Maybe it needed some string. Or at the very least some of those flames Nimona had drawn and cut out for him to add.

“Mister Boldheart, this is Principal Conroy from Gloreth Elementary School.”

Oh no.

He didn’t quite manage to keep in his sigh.

“What happened this time?” he asked. He refused to say ‘what did she do now’, if only because Nimona usually had a reason for whatever chaos she wrought. Like trying to free the pet gerbil from ‘his stinky, tiny prison’ or punching a kid who made fun of her because ‘you couldn’t even get two normal foster parents, you ended up with two foster dads’.

Of course the school hadn’t done anything about the other kid. He was a legacy at the private school, and he’d ‘just been stating facts, after all’.

“It appears Nimona bit another child.”

Well, that was new.

“What did the other kid do?” he asked, knowing he wouldn’t get a straight answer until he talked to Nimona.

“Mister Boldheart, this school has a zero tolerance policy,” the principal started, and he pulled the phone away from his ear, mouthing along the words mockingly has he got his keys.

Part-way through her little rant, he cut her off. “I’m on my way,” he said, hanging up the phone before she could answer.

Nimona was sitting in what Ballister was coming to think of as ‘her’ chair. The one furthest away from the principal’s door. Her face was like thunder, arms crossed in front of her defensively. But it eased a little when she saw who was picking her up.

As much as he and Ambrosius tried the old Good Cop, Bad Cop routine, Nimona had very quickly learned they were both complete pushovers. And that while Ballister could be stern when it mattered, he wasn’t about to punish her for no reason. He’d always hear her out, and he’d always explain why a rule was a rule and why it shouldn’t be broken. (Or when it could be, under certain circumstances.)

Also, he was fifty per cent more likely than Ambrosius to take her out for ice-cream when she got suspended for no reason, again.

“What happened?” he asked, crouching down in front of them.

“Chad wouldn’t stop trying to poke me,” Nimona said. “I told him to keep his hands to himself or I’d bite him. It’s not my fault he didn’t believe me.”

“I never touched her!” Chad shouted from the other side of the hall. His hand was bandaged rather dramatically all the way down to his elbow. “I even said ‘I’m not touching you!’”

Ah. Ballister knew that game all too well from his own time at Gloreth Elementary. Being the scholarship kid had made him an easy target.  

“Come on,” he said, putting his hand on Nimona’s shoulder. “Let’s go.”

“Don’t you need to talk to the Principal first?” they asked.

He did, but he really didn’t want to. Instead, he looked at the ancient secretary, who’d always had a bit of a soft spot for him when he went to this school. “How long is she suspended?”

“Just the rest of the week,” the secretary answered. It was Wednesday, so not too bad. “The Principal wants to have a serious talk with you, though.”

Ballister knew exactly what talk she wanted to have. It was the same one she’d had when they enrolled Nimona, suggesting that Gloreth Elementary had a rather rigorous curriculum, and perhaps ‘someone like Nimona’ would be better suited for a ‘less demanding environment’.

Another thing he remembered all too well from his own time at this private school.

Never mind that Nimona’s grades were at the top ten per cent of her class. Well, when she remembered to hand in her homework. And it was legible between the drawings of sharks and dragons and who knew what else. But still, it wasn’t the curriculum that was bothering her.

“I’ll send Ambrosius by tomorrow morning, after his shift,” Ballister said. Because suddenly, when The Golden Boy Legacy Kid himself stopped by it was much harder to say no, or that their kid didn’t belong here.

They walked out of the school, Nimona’s fuzzy pink book bag hanging from his good shoulder, her hand clutching the wrist of his prosthetic arm. They were already too far down the hall to hear the Principal call them back, and Ballister knew she was too dignified to run after them.

“Look, I get it,” he said once they were outside, because he really, really did. “But you can’t go around biting people.”

“Why not? He deserved it,” Nimona said, sulkily kicking at a pebble.

“Because you don’t know where his hand’s been, it’s gross.” Okay, maybe that wasn’t the best argument for not biting people, but it was one that was probably most effective for this particular kid. He and Ambrosius could sit her down and explain why biting people was morally wrong some other time.

Nimona was silent for a moment, before sticking out their tongue and running her own hands over it. “Blergh, you’re right!”

See? Effective parenting.

“How do you feel about milkshakes and a stake out?” he asked.

“A stake out?” The hunched shoulders and frown disappeared, replaced by a bounce and a bright, sharp smile. “Who’re we taking down?”

“Nobody just yet,” he said. “But I could use a sidekick following one of VerdAgra’s employees.”

“Yes, boss!” Nimona cheered, all but throwing herself into the passenger’s seat. “Can I have a chocolate-peanut butter-caramel milkshake?”

“Sure thing,” he said, even though that sounded like a lot. Nimona beamed and rummaged in the dashboard console to find their Stake Out Sunglasses, handing him his own. Because you couldn’t do a stake out without them, of course.

Tonight, he’d have a talk with Ambrosius about how maybe Gloreth Elementary and Gloreth Prep weren’t the best place for Nimona. Not because she couldn’t handle the curriculum, but because the school had no interest in stopping the bullying of anyone they deemed lesser. He didn’t want her to suffer the way he had. Sure, he’d gotten into a great university at the end, but had it really been worth it?

Maybe homeschooling was an option. Or another school. Anywhere that didn’t try to crush his kid’s amazing spirit, natural curiosity, and sense of self.

“Can I tase him if he tries to run?”

“No!”