#this world is so dark i had to crank the brightness up for these

[gummi-ships]

Kingdom Hearts 2 - Port Royal

[lyss-butterscotch]

A friendly reminder to let the worms off the strings in your headcanon universes

[seths-rogens]

cardboard houses, cardboard hearts | M | 1.9k | ao3

should’ve been finishing my infidelity au, but instead the cardboard joe cutout i was given inspired me to crank this out in one sitting,, anyway, please enjoy :)

—————

Eddie often thanks God that he took the leap and moved to Indianapolis after he finally graduated high school. Not that he really believes in God. Just… figure of speech and all. Though, maybe he’d believe in God if they were a metalhead with tatties and an eyebrow piercing, but he thinks that might ruin their image honestly.

He’s getting off topic.

Eddie often thanks God for Indy in moments like these. Moments where he has a fucking beautiful man pinned to his own front door, strong, thick fingers tangling in his hair as Eddie desperately tries to fit his key into the lock. He shoves his thigh between Pretty Man’s legs - he didn’t catch his name - and presses upwards. Pretty Man whines, grinding down and making it all that more difficult to unlock the goddamn door.

“Hold on, Sweetheart. I just gotta-“ Eddie bites back a groan as Pretty Man kisses down his neck, sucking a bruise over his pulse as the key finally slips into the lock. Chrissy’s never gonna let him live the marks down.

He’s surprised he picked anyone up tonight at all. He’d gone to a concert alone for once, as Chrissy was staying at her new girlfriend’s place, and Gareth and Jeff weren’t the biggest fans of his guilty pleasure artist ‘King S’.

And honestly? In any other world. Eddie wouldn’t be either.

King S isn’t his usual style. Where Eddie usually loves a hard drumline, thrashing guitars and lyrics you can only scream, King S is all soft melodies and crooning vocals set to slow drum beats.

He’d stumbled upon him completely by accident, honestly. It’d been a slow day at the record store Eddie manages. He’d been there for nearly five hours and so far he’d only served maybe three customers - and two of those customers were an old couple shopping for their granddaughter. So he’d picked the first magazine he could reach off the stand by the counter, and flipped it open to a random page.

It’d been an interview with King S, who’d just released his first album at the time. He was talking about his inspiration for making music - his best friend and little brother who, he’s quoted as saying, ‘always ragged on him when he played his pop shit in the car’ - and the meaning behind his stage name - reclaiming an old high school nickname he’d been given after his brief stint as a bit of a mean girl, though now he promises he’s using it for good.

He’d flipped the page to find a double page spread of King S curled up in a bathtub. His eyes were squeezed shut through the lacy masquerade mask that was supposedly his staple (no one knew his real identity after all). His hair was messy and flying all over the place. He was…

He was naked. Or at least that’s how it seemed.

His arms and legs were bare, the black and white photo only emphasising the toned curves of the muscles in his arms and back and the dark hair covering those lush thighs.

Call him obvious but Eddie had been intrigued. He knew they’d received a new shipment of records that morning that weren’t supposed to be hitting the shelves until the next day, so he figured what the hell!

Ten minutes later, elbow deep in a shoddily painted green wooden crate, Eddie emerged victorious with King S’s debut album ‘Robins and Tadpoles’ in his hands.

The album cover was two people’s hands clasped together, matching ice cream cone tattoos on both wrists. There was a little dedication on the back. To R & D.

He took it out to the turntable on the shop floor and dropped the needle. When the soft music started, he was hesitant, but as the album moved on he quickly realised he was hooked.

He’d gone into the shop bright and early the next day - on his day off no less - and bought the album. Only slightly laughing at the look on Mike’s - part time Lit student, part time cashier, full time grump - face.

That had been two years ago, and Eddie had been solidly on the King S train since.

Sure, Gareth and Jeff - and Grant too when he was in town - would tease him about abandoning his people, about betraying the freaks and the weirdos, but really they supported his love for the artist, even if they didn’t quite get it.

So when King S announced a stop in Indy on his second album tour, the guys (and Chrissy) had banded together to get him tickets as an early 26th birthday present. Except when the day came, they were all busy, so he went by himself.

He didn’t mind really, was just happy to be there to appreciate the music. (And the man himself, Eddie has eyes, come on now.)

Elated and feeling just a little self fulfilled after the concert, Eddie had gone to his favourite queer/metal bar, Crash. He’s picked people up there before, sure, but they’ve all been metalheads, just like him, and as many of his friends have said in the past, he’s cursed to have the hots for the preppy jock types.

Usually, that’s not the type of guy he’d find in Crash. Tonight was different.

Eddie had been sat at the bar, thinking about King S’s arms beneath the crimson sweater he wore on stage, when a gorgeous man had stepped up beside him to buy a beer. The man was wearing a dark, charcoal coloured t-shirt under a light grey Members Only jacket, paired with light blue levi’s.

Eddie kinda felt his jaw hit the floor. Could this be the perfect end to the perfect night?

This brings us back to now. Eddie finally pushes the door open, swings Pretty Man around and pushes him back against it.

He drops his keys somewhere. It doesn’t matter. He’ll find them tomorrow.

They’re grinding fast against one another now, only their harsh, panting breaths filling the silence of Eddie’s apartment. Eddie slides his hand into Pretty Man’s hair, tugs on this side of too hard. Pretty Man moans, loud, almost echoing, and tilts his head to the side, baring his neck for Eddie to defile.

Eddie leans in, presses his lips to those two little moles, and—

“What the fuck?”

Eddie pulls back to look at Pretty Man’s face. He’s still, not looking at Eddie, instead staring with wide eyes into the open plan of Eddie’s living room.

Eddie follows his gaze and… Oh. Yeah. He forgot about that.

See the King S tickets hadn’t been Eddie’s only birthday gift. He knew this would come back to bite him in the ass, but his friends thought it was hilarious. Eddie thinks they’re assholes.

Because Pretty Man is staring at a life size cutout of King S, standing by the wall.

Eddie winces, pulls away. This guy might not look like a metalhead, but he was in a metal bar, there’s no way he listens to King S. He’s gotta come up with an explanation for this, and fast.

“Um, yeah… About that… would you believe me if I said I didn’t buy it?” He asks sheepishly, avoiding Pretty Man’s eyes.

“You’re a fan?” Pretty Man asks, except he sounds dejected, which Eddie thinks is weird. And actually? Fuck this guy. He’s allowed to like whatever he wants.

“Yeah, man. What’s wrong with that? Maybe it’s not for everyone but King S actually makes really good music.” He gets more than a little defensive, takes a step back and crosses his arms over his chest.

“No, no… that’s not what I meant.” Pretty Man raises his hands placatingly.

“Then what did you mean?”

Pretty Man sighs, rubs a hand over his face. “Don’t you recognise me?”

Eddie furrows his brow in confusion. “Do I like, know you or something?”

Pretty Man raises his eyes to the ceiling like this is difficult. “Really? Nothing?”

Eddie shakes his head. “I don’t…” Pretty man nods, sighs, and then walks past Eddie further into the apartment. “Hey, you can’t just—“

“How about now?” Pretty Man asks, stopping right next to the cardboard cut out.

Eddie flits his eyes between the man and the cut out, trying to understand what Pretty Man is getting at until he sighs again, pulls down the sleeve of his jacket to reveal…

A tattoo of an ice cream cone, and suddenly it all clicks.

Oh. Oh no. That’s… oh holy ever loving fuck.

“Holy shit!” Eddie exclaims, pointing frantically between Pretty Man and the cardboard. “You’re King S!”

“Yeah. It’s uh, Steve, actually.” Pretty Man, King S, Steve nods, seeming much more shy than he was ten minutes ago. He’s curled his arms around himself, trying to make himself shrink. Eddie feels bad.

“Did you think I was trying to sleep with you because you’re famous?”

“I mean, weren’t you?” Steve won’t meet his eye. Instead he’s staring around the room, taking in all the little details of Eddie’s life.

Eddie takes a step towards him. “No, man. I just thought you were pretty, that’s all.”

“You really didn’t know who I was?” Though he still looks unsure, Steve finally meets his eye.

Eddie shakes his head, coming to a stop in front of Steve. “I didn’t even buy that thing, dude. My friends thought it would be funny because you’re like, the only non-metal artist I listen to.”

Steve smiles at that. He really is so pretty, Eddie can’t help but think. “Seriously?”

“Yeah, man. Heard your first album right after it came out and I was hooked!” Eddie laughs softly. “I used to be a little bit narrow minded when it came to music, but I heard yours and it’s like the world of music blasted wide open.”

A pretty pink blush spreads its way across Steve’s cheeks. “Oh, uh… That’s really cool. I’m glad you like it.”

“I was at your show tonight, actually.”

“You were?”

“Yeah!” He shrugs. “I used to play in a band in high school, we were never very good but I liked to think I had good stage presence, right?” Steve nods and Eddie grins, leaning in a little. “I was nothing compared to you. It was fucking electric, I felt like my skin was buzzing.”

Steve’s smile seems to grow even wider. He sways forward into Eddie’s space, almost unconsciously. “This might be crazy, but do you wanna start over? Forgo the one night stand and just, I don’t know, get coffee or something? I know this cute little 24 hour place, Victoria Street, it’s only a couple blocks away.”

Eddie narrows his eyes a little. “Stevie… barely anyone knows Victoria Street. Are you, dare I say it… local?”

Steve’s cheeks darken even further. “Maybe.”

Eddie laughs. “Then, I’d love to start over. I wanna get to know you as Steve, not King S.”

Steve slips his hand into Eddie’s, tugs him

back towards the door. “God, how much do you know..?”

“I may have read a couple interviews.”

Steve groans, embarrassed, as the door clicks shut behind them.

Then, a few moments later. “Shit! My keys!”

The date goes well. As does the second, and the third, and so on, and so on. They’re officially exclusive by date 7.

Steve meets Chrissy and the boys on date 20. Eddie meets Dustin and Robin, right before date 45.

On date 94, Steve presents his third album to Eddie. There’s a different dedication on the back cover this time.

To E, my love.

——————

taglist: @judasofsuburbia @gothbat99 @cheatghost @flowercrowngods @fastcardotmp3 @simplebtromance @gonzofromspace

lemme know if u wanna be added to a permanent taglist for anything i do in the future, i’m thinkin’ that might be funky :)

[irondadfics]

Hi! Could you recommend some post-Infinity War fics where Avengers think Tony didn't lose anyone in the snap, but then he shows them who Peter was?

here you go! Happy reading!

Exposed by Multi_Fandom_Feels

"You lost nothing. I lost everything, everyone. You have no reason to be moping around like you’ve lived through tragedy.” Clint said, anger and envy dripping from his every word. Tony looked up, pain and anger burning in his eyes. “You have no idea what I lost.” - When Clint returns to the compound after the Snap, tensions are high. Tony is grieving, and no one knows why. No one knows what Tony lost that day, and Clint takes an issue with Tony.

You Didn't Lose Anything by lightningbugqueen

“I lost my son and I waited and wished for that snap to get me too, but it didn’t. And now I have to live in a world without my baby in it, and apparently I didn’t lose anyone! Apparently I am one of the lucky souls in the godforsaken world who didn’t lose his reason for living and you know what? That’s bullshit!”  ********************** Or when the Avengers don't understand that Tony lost someone too. Tw: death, grieving, etc.

Bring Him Back by fictionart

When Tony comes back from Titan, he doesn't say a word. This makes Clint really mad.

Hell on Earth by madasthesea

Prompt: please do post!IW where everyone lost someone in the snap, but on paper it looks like Tony didn't lose anyone (Rhodey is alive, I'm pretty sure Pepper and Happy are too), so Hawkeye or someone is pissed until they see Tony and realize he's lost just as much as them

too-bright-eyes and too-dark-eye-bags by Speeps

He’d tried to act as if nothing had changed. As if all he had to do was crank up his speakers, power up his workshop and haul his armour onto his workbench, and then everything would go back to normal. A sixteen year old with too-bright-eyes and too-dark-eye-bags would come bounding in, smile wide as he slung his backpack somewhere on the floor where he’d inevitably trip over it later on.  He eyed the faded backpack that sat lonely on its owner's bright blue chair. Dust clung to its seams.

every promise don't work out that way by LethalBookshelves

"His son." Everyone turns to look at the blue girl. She doesn’t flinch at the new attention, staring right at Clint. Then she turns her dark eyes to Tony’s. “He lost his son.” — Tony’s back on Earth, but not really. He left something—someone—back there on Titan. In his hands he holds the picture frame of him and Peter—young, happy, alive Peter—posing stupidly with cheesy bunny ears at the camera and holding Peter’s Stark Industries certificate upside-down, and he knows exactly what he’s lost. And as he watches his tears fall onto the glass, he knows that he will stop at nothing to bring Peter Parker back. This is the story that shows what happens when he succeeds.

i will restore all that was broken by killerqueenwrites

“He took my kids!” Clint shouts. “And he took mine!” Tony roars back. After watching Peter disappear, Tony is lost. People keep finding him.

[definitelyisd1ce]

“It’s always been you.”

K. Baji — Tokyo Revengers.

Synopsis : Being somewhat affiliated with gang because you like one of its members; leaves you feeling strung along. Although, if it all fells, it’ll end well. Right?

Content Warnings!

contains the following ; unestablished relationship(s) , light angst to fluff and comfort, sweet nothings and sweet sorrows! ——— very much SFW!

As always, A/N! : My content is for those who wish to read it, though it is heavily recommended that you are 18+. I have no control over what you read, nor is it my business. Read at your own discretion. I’m not holding your hand.

WC; 2.3K !

Viewer Discretion Advised. <3

7:32pm.

The sun had cast a bright orange-yellow through the sheer white curtains of your bay windows, praising its rays on you as you decided it was time to crash in for the night. It was Friday, so there was nowhere to go. All your homework and upcoming assignments had been done, so you were basically just… here.

You settle in your bed with a book, letting the sun set in on you, and watching you read the book (it's more like reading the words and not retaining the information).

You needed help figuring out why you weren't interested in the book. It fits your taste; it was on your "To read!' list, so what was the problem? Unbeknownst to you, the deep-rooted desire to text your situationship was brewing, and it annoyed you.

You tossed the book to your side and picked up your phone, looking at the time and date on the home screen, though there was no notification from the guy you were looking for.

Keisuke.

You didn't like to accept the fact that he ghosted you every now and again, mainly because he always dragged his sorry ass to see you before anything was said and done. You still couldn't hold that over his head because he had a gang, family, mom, and school to cater to.

He wasn't your boyfriend, and you weren't his girlfriend; at least, that's what it comes out to be after you do the mental gymnastics.

You laid your phone on your chest and stared at the ceiling, the ridges in it doing imaginary dances to entertain your brain and distract you from the impending silence. Eventually, your eyes grew shrouded, and you fell asleep.

--

2:43am.

The light taps of rocks hitting your window roused you awake and caused you to sit up and glance at your phone.

The time read 2:43, and the day was a new day. The only thing different was a couple of missed notifications: various calls and text messages, Instagram, TikTok, etc. But the one that stuck out to you was from your ravenette.

3 new messages and 2 missed calls from 'Baji <3."

It was weird; you didn't even know you had fallen asleep, exhausted and missing everything lively before the world went quiet.

You were pulled out of your stirring thoughts by another pebble thrown at your window, forcing you to pull yourself out of your bed and head to the window. You pulled the curtain back a little, only giving you a view of the ground below it without being seen, and there he was.

Baji, standing in his toman uniform and leaning against his motorcycle, tossed another pebble in his hand, almost nearing to look like he was about to throw it before he glanced at you and put his hand down.

You drew the curtain back and made a questioning face at him, which only caused him to throw his hand up, insinuating for you to open the window.

You grabbed the crank of the middle bay window, the biggest of the three, and turned it until it was open enough to talk with him.

"What are you doing here?!" You whispered-yelled to the boy below you, who only displayed a shit-faced smirk as he saw you.

You were wearing a fitting tank top, nylon shorts, and a bright pink bonnet—a scene that was way too familiar for Baji. It brought him clarity as he saw that, for the first time in a couple of days, you were facing bright even though your expression was dark as you looked at him quizzically.

"I just wanted to see you. I thought you were with Hina or Emma for a while. You really are a heavy sleeper," he answered, kicking the gravel as he chuckled out his response. His hair was in his all-knowing fighting-style ponytail, blood that may or may not be his, and a snark attitude just for you at this unearthing hour.

You rubbed your eyes and fetched your glasses to get a better look at him. Once you returned, you leaned on your window sill and spoke.

"Yeah, well.. when you have basically nothing to look forward to, what's the point of sleeping light?" you asked, head propped up in your palm.

Baji stuck his hands in his pockets and looked at you with a slight tilt to his head, a light pout to his lips. He looked around, trying to find an answer to lighten the mood.

The streets were empty, with the occasional car passing through. People were either on their way or coming back home from work. Bright orange streetlights shadowed the midnight sky, giving Baji a talking point.

"You normally never miss my calls; if you do, you call me straight back. What up with you, babydoll?" he asked honestly, wanting to understand the scarcity of your two moments.

This sent a countdown in your brain, counting the seconds you were about to have a meltdown or self-implode. What's up with you? More like, what the hell is up with him? Who just randomly ghosts people you claim to be infatuated with? But you digressed.

"What's up with me? Nothing is up with me, Keisuke. It's you. I should be asking that question, considering you act like you don't know what phone or a response is." You answered in a quiet yet tired tone, still putting heavy emphasis on his name.

Being woken up from her sleep was warranted, though her calling him by his name caught him off guard.

You could see the look on his face after you called him his name and not his last name or a pet name, slight appalment, and the look of being taken aback. He couldn't lie; it hurt a little, but his pride was too big to show it.

"First name basis, huh…" he muttered back before standing back up straight and opening his mouth to speak again. "I understand. But can you put off being mad at me for a tad bit longer? We can talk it out, yeah?" he asked, feather-light pleading and a somewhat sincere smile on his face.

"And what makes you think I want to do that?" you asked back, deadpan and with a smirk of sarcasm.

Baji looked back at his motorcycle and then back up at you, clicking his teeth as he insinuated a joyride on it.

“Uhn uhn.. uhn uhnnnnn Baji, no. It's too late, and my mom would kill me if she found out I left to go on a joyride. Especially with you." You gritted through your retainer-ridden teeth.

His bike, Ol' Alessia, was almost as old as Baji. You looked at his bike just about two or three feet from behind him, the memories of your shared laughs, your tears, his sweat and blood, and long conversations flooding your senses.

"Come on, I won't keep you out long—just long enough to fill in the missing time." He begged, a slight smirk on his face, his mischief fang, as you like to call it, on display.

After some thought, you caved and rolled your eyes, strolling to your already shut bedroom door and locking it. A slight prayer to hope for an easy in and out slipped past your lips as you put on your robe and house slippers and came back to the window.

"20 minutes?"

"20 minutes."

You sighed once more and climbed out the window, using the tree next to it as your way down. Once you got on your feet, you avoided Baji and went straight to his bike, putting on the helmet he kept for you.

He got on the bike, pulled it out of its idle stance, and revved it to warm it up. You got on right behind him, your body immediately going to backpack him as he pushed off and started to ride down the street.

The light breeze brought a sense of security that you haven't felt since you've last been with Keisuke. You used to reflect on your non-situation-relationship with him in times like these. Sometimes, he'd be with and around you like a lovesick puppy; others, he'd go with so much without a slight acknowledgment toward you.

You laid your cheek on his back as he made precise turns in your neighborhood, fighting the urge to break the stiff silence between you both. He found you being deep in thought cute, but since it was he who was on your mind, he had stirred the conclusion that it was probably a bad thing.

"I'll give ya a penny for that thought.." he spoke up a while after a mindless 7-8 minutes.

"You can keep your penny. I'm just thinkin'," you responded, perching your chin on his shoulder.

"About?"

"You, me, something I'd normally call us," you mumbled, paying attention to orange-hued streetlights. "It doesn't really feel like it's been that recently, y'know?" you urged.

Rueful silence racked through the air as your question surfaced, and Baji's hand was forced to speed the bike up a little.

"Yeah.. but you know I have good reasons, right?" he wondered, also wanting to see where you stood in understanding.

"No, Kei, I don't." you started, leaning up to sit up straight, "I don't know that you do because you don't communicate that."

He hung his head a little, sucking in his bottom lip. He knew he wasn't (and still isn't) the best at communicating. He wholeheartedly felt awful after Mitsuya and Chifuyu dogged him about it.

He guessed being together and not committed drew a fine line between his girl and his gang. He was together with you, but committed to his gang; thus causing a painful realization. After that brief realization, he got slightly startled out by feeling your hand creep up to his and guide Alessia back onto the road.

"Yeah, I guess I do owe you a lot more than I give you, huh?" he asked, feeling the hell-ridden embarrassment creep up his neck and rest on his cheeks.

"Yeah. I'd like to think so. I mean, for god's sake, Kei. I know we aren't in a relationship, but you can at least have some decency and acknowledge that you treat me more than just somebody. You and I have both admitted that." She ranted, pausing occasionally to push down the urge to cry.

"I don't ask for so much as a 'why, what are you doing, run this by me'… just something. Don't even let me get started because it makes me feel like I'm talking in circles, then I'm wasting my brea-"

"Hey! Hey! It's alright. I hear you." He cut you off, looking over his shoulder at you.

You bit your bottom lip, sniffling a little as you finally caught wind of your word vomit. You shook your head, not knowing what more to say. The silence was filling the space you two as he turned back onto your street, the light cruise bringing you back to a level head.

"Look, it's always and has been about you. I just need to work some things out before I can officially say I'm all yours, yeah?" he murmured, pulling up back under your window.

As much as you wanted to scream and hit him and tell him it was not fair, you understood he wanted to go through the troubles to get rid of them before being with you. And for that, you had to commend him.

"Okay, Baji. I guess I can't argue with that." You answered, taking off your helmet and getting off the bike.

It had been exactly 17 minutes since you left, and you still had 3 minutes to return to your window. Baji had gotten off his bike and came for a hug, wrapping his arms around your neck and bending down to kiss your forehead.

"I'm sorry, ma. I am immensely sorry for not making you feel like a priority, not holding myself up to a higher standard, and leaving you in the mud. It's not so manly and Toman code of me." He spoke, etching his apology into your forehead.

You grinned a little at his formality and apology, hugging him back. You pulled back, looking at his pale brown hue, smooshing his cheeks in your hand.

"I understand. I'll forgive you when I see you change and hold yourself up to what you say. But as for now, come on. I'm not letting you drive back home this late," you confided, motioning for him to help you into the window.

He nodded, boosting you into the open pane, allowing you to climb in and make sure everything was in order. Baji turned off his motorcycle and climbed into your window himself. He looked around, feeling the sense of familiarity creep up on him.

"Hey, while you stand there, close the window." You whispered,-demanded, already back into your tanktop and shorts.

He playfully rolled his eyes as he shut your room off from the outside world, removed his uniform, changed into basketball shorts and socks, and prepared to climb into bed with you.

He followed suit, climbing back into your plush sheets, big-spooning you to give you a tinge of protectiveness. You curled up into his caged arms; his faint cologne that wafted on his wrists seeped into your nose and started to lull you into brief, deep sleep. At least not before you got your final words out for the night.

"Kei?"

He grunted politely.

"Just promise me you won't keep me waiting."

"I won't keep you waiting, n/n. I promise. I want nothing but you. I want your past, your present, and your future." He answered, holding you tight and secure.

You smiled, keeping his promise close to you as he kissed the crown of your head.

And with that, you fell asleep.

silly little a/n!🤭: hey guys! second fic, how we feeling about it? Keisuke Baji is my man so there DEFINITELY will be a lot of fics about him as i write more. Feel free to drop suggestions. i’m open to just about any fandom i’m familiar with. as always, im open feedback and critiques! (though do be nice.). and as per usual; divider by @benkeibear:). reposts are highly appreciated ;).

[comfort-writing]

Crayons and Cassettes

Chapter 9: Music to My Ears (pt. 1)

You are a kindergarten teacher. Eddie’s daughter, Sage, is in your class. For your second date, Eddie takes you to Indianapolis.

warnings: kissing, grinding n such, oral sex (f receiving). 18+ - minors DNI!! no use of y/n. (please let me know if I missed anything)

a/n: walk him like a dog. let me know in the comments or my asks if you want to be added to the tag list! requests are open!

word count: 3.2k

Chapter 1 || 2 || 3 || 4 || 5 || 6 || 7 || 8 || 9 || 10 || 11 || 12 || 13 || 14 (coming soon!)

After your first date, Eddie continued his tradition of calling you every night. You were a little worried that it might stop because you two were actually a thing now, but he didn’t. You were always grateful to hear his voice.

After four days, he’d asked to see you again. You agreed, and set a date for that Friday at 5, which you thought was really early, but he insisted on the time. He refused to tell you his plans though, and you’d asked if this would be a normal occurrence. He laughed and confirmed that, yes, he planned on surprising you every opportunity he got.

Friday came and you got dressed in an pair of dark wash jeans and a black, flowy top that showed a little cleavage. Eddie had told you that tonight would be more casual, and to wear really comfortable shoes. You had no idea what was going to happen, but after your first date, you trusted that he knew what he was doing. You’d tied your hair back, pulling out a few pieces to frame your face, did your makeup how you liked, then threw on some shoes that, admittedly, maybe weren’t as comfortable as Eddie had told you to wear, but they matched the outfit, so you’d suffer for beauty.

You didn’t feel nervous this time. A second date is a lot less pressure on a person.

Eddie, however, did not feel the same. He was really worried about how this one would go. He felt like it would be difficult to top the first date. You’d told him it was perfect, and he wanted to make sure that every date felt better than the last. He wore his normal attire- band tee, leather jacket and denim vest, ripped jeans, and his favorite silver metal adorning his hands.

Once the babysitter was all set for the night, he thanked her and kissed Sage’s cheeks. Before he headed out, he made sure to grab the concert tickets he’d bought a few months ago, his wallet, keys, and a hair tie just in case the venue got too hot. It was a metal concert, and while this band wasn’t known for mosh pits, he knew the crowd would be large. The tickets weren’t cheap, but he’d slowly given you a couple of their cassettes once he’d scored the tickets, and you really liked their stuff, so he hoped you’d be excited to see them in concert.

He drove to your house, playing their music and getting more nervous by the minute. He really had no idea if this would be your scene; you always seemed so sweet, and he wasn’t sure if you’d like the chaotic environment he was bringing you into. It was more his vibe.

He knocked on your door, sticking his hands in his pockets to keep himself from picking at the skin around his fingers, an anxious habit he’d picked up in middle school. You answered the door, smiling so bright he felt blinded.

“Hiya, handsome. Where are we going this early?” You asked, excited and hoping he’d relent and tell you.

Eddie chuckled and nodded to his van, “You’ll see.” He smirked, hoping to cover the nerves with cockiness. You walked out of your house, locked the door behind you, and held his arm as he guided you to the passenger side of his van.

He opened your door, as always, before getting in on his side. He cranked the car and turned on the music you’d hear again later that night, hoping to at least give you a small hint. You crossed your legs and gave him a look that he swore could’ve killed him. You looked so sexy, and now you were looking at him like he was your world.

“Come ooon, Eds. I’m dying to know what we’re doing at 5pm on a Friday. I never took you as an ‘eating dinner like an elderly person’ kind of guy.” You giggled as he pulled out of your driveway.

“Well, I’ll give you a small hint,” he relented. “Indianapolis.”

“Ah- I guess that makes sense.” You nodded. The drive was a little two hours away from Hawkins, so you now understood the timing, at least. “What are we doing there?” You asked, pushing it further.

He reached over and grabbed your hand, bringing it to his lips and kissing it gently, “Going on a date.”

You held his hand as he drove, and you narrowed your eyes at him, but dropped the subject, figuring you’d know soon.

The two of you chatted as you drove, flipping the tape over. He cranked the radio up when a song came on that you both loved, and the two of you sang loudly as you drove through a small city in between the endless stretches of corn fields that Indiana was full of. He stopped at a gas station, and you hopped out.

“I’m gonna grab some road snacks.” You told him, “What’s your gas station order?”

He told you what he wanted, and when you started to head in, he grabbed your hand before you could get too far, pulling you back to give him a kiss. You smiled against his lips before he released you. You gave him one more peck before turning to walk towards the small store and he wolf whistled, listening to your bright laugh as you disappeared behind the doors.

You grabbed the snacks required to make it through the rest of the ride, paid, and by the time you’d made it back to the car, Eddie was putting the pump back into the machine. You held up the bag, and he smiled at you.

“You’re an angel.” He said, opening your door for you. You plopped down into the passenger seat, and he didn’t close the door immediately. Instead, he leaned into the car, placing a hand on your thigh. “You look,” he whispered, squeezing the denim covering you, “so hot.”

You set the bag down on the floor by your feet and placed your hands on his cheeks gently, “Yeah?”

He nodded, absolute putty in your hands. You smirked and moved a hand to run through his hair, tugging it to pull him close, “Well have you looked in a mirror lately?” Your voice ghosting over his lips.

He closed the gap quickly, kissing you hard. You kissed him back with the same amount of force. Instead of leaning down, you pulled his hair up a bit so you could kiss him at a better angle. He groaned against your lips, which sent shivers down your spine. He pulled his lips away after a second, looking at you with blown pupils.

“If you aren’t careful, we won’t make it to our destination.” He warned.

You hummed, “And where are we going exactly? I’d like to decide if it’s worth it.”

Jesus, your confidence was sexy. He stood back, “Look in the glove box.” He instructed.

You smiled, finally figuring out how to get him to do what you asked. You pulled on the small latch, seeing two tickets. You wiggled your eyebrows at him before picking them up and reading the band name. “Holy shit, Eddie!” You exclaimed.

He smiled up at you, “Worth it?” He asked.

“Yes, oh my god.” You beamed, looking at him. You paused for a moment, “What are you doing? Get in the car and drive!”

He laughed and closed your door, jogging over to his side and getting in, starting the car and getting back on the highway.

“You like it?” He asked hesitantly. Even though you were obviously excited, he wanted to confirm for sure.

“Eddie, yes.” You said like it was obvious.

“Good. I wasn’t sure if the whole thing would like.. be your vibe.”

“Hey, just because I spend the majority of my time with toddlers doesn’t mean I can’t let loose a little.” You chuckled.

He nodded before feeling you lean over and kiss his cheek as he kept his eyes on the road, pulling a smile out of him.

The rest of the drive was spent singing the band’s songs, laughing, and eating the snacks you’d bought.

Eventually, Eddie parked the van in a parking garage and looked at his watch, “We’ve still got a little time before the concert starts.”

“Want to go wait in line or walk around for a little while?” You asked, trying to think of something to do. You didn’t know the area, so it was really up to him.

He unbuckled his seat belt, and you expected him to get out, but instead, he stumbled into the back of his van, sitting down and turning to face you, “We could just hang out in here, ya know?” He suggested, patting the spot beside him.

You giggled and followed him to the back of the van. Instead of sitting next to him, you straddled his lap, resting your arms on his shoulders, “I think I like that idea.”

His hands moved to hold you by your waist, leaning against the back doors of the van, “I think I do too.”

You tucked his hair behind his ear so you could see his face, and you smiled sweetly, “You’re cute.”

He chuckled and kissed your forehead gently, “You’re cute.” He repeated.

You looked up at him, staring into the dark brown eyes that you’d noticed and admired from the moment you met him. “You gonna kiss me or what, Munson?”

“Shit, I don’t need to be asked twice.” He smirked, connecting your lips and closing his eyes.

Your eyes fluttered closed, leaning into it. He kissed you slowly at first, taking his time, exploring the feeling as your lips collided and finding a good rhythm.

As the minutes ticked by, the kiss became heated. He moved his hands from your hips to the bare skin of your back underneath your shirt, holding you flush to his torso. Your hands were tangled in his hair, occasionally gripping it and pulling him closer to you, earning soft moans every time. His tongue had slipped past your lips long ago, and you had gladly accepted it, rolling your own against his.

One of his hands slowly moved from your back and up your side, sliding to your front and kneading one of your breasts over your bra, which caused you to moan, breathy and hot, into his mouth. He slowly rocked his hips up to meet yours, tentatively at first, but once you ground back down against him, his movements became more confident and consistent.

Your hands moved from his hair to his jacket, tugging at it to pull it off. He removed his hands, much to your dismay, but quickly replaced them once his outer layer had been shed and discarded somewhere in the van. He removed his lips from yours, but quickly moved them down your jaw and to the column of your neck. You leaned your head to the side so he could do whatever he pleased. His left hand moved from the front of your bra to the back strap, easily unhooking it in one swift movement, which left you a little impressed.

He kissed up to your ear, “May I, beautiful?” He asked, sliding the strap of it down your shoulder slowly, waiting for permission.

“How much time do we have left?” You asked, out of breath.

He looked down at his watch, “We can miss the opening act.”

“Sounds good to me.” You agree, slipping off your shirt, along with your bra, and tossing the clothing items towards the front of the van.

Eddie looked down at you, admiring just how gorgeous you looked. “God damn.” He muttered before snapping himself out of the trance. He quickly went back to kissing your neck, shifting you off of his lap to lay down in the back of the van.

It was your turn to let your hands wander as his were busy holding himself up and softly brushing a thumb over your nipple. You let your hands move under his shirt, running up and down his warm chest as his hips slotted between yours.

His lips moved to your collarbone and you got impatient, tugging his shirt up. He sat up and quickly removed it, throwing it with such force that you laughed. He joined in, smiling down at you before coming back to kiss you harshly, continuing to let his hands explore every inch of your body. Your own we’re on his back, rubbing gently and pulling him close, then moving to scratching down the length of it as you craved more. He moaned into your mouth, moving his hands to the waistband of your jeans.

“Eddie…” You sighed as his mouth kissed down your jaw, then your neck, your collarbone, your chest, until his tongue connected with nipple, gently taking it into his mouth, his fingers on the hand that wasn’t holding his weight slowly dipping below your waist band, running along the length of it, teasing. He closed his eyes as your hands tangled into his dark hair again, a leg wrapping wound his waist to being him closer, needing more friction.

He removed his mouth and you whined at the loss. “You want more?” He asked, looking up at you. You nodded quickly, which only caused him to smile sweetly, “I need to hear you say it, angel.”

You gripped his hair and yanking him up to face you, a sudden wave on confidence taking over. “Touch me, Eddie.” You instructed firmly, your face serious.

He could’ve cum in his jeans right then. Just when he thought he was in control, you not only turned the table, but flipped it upside down. “Christ.. Y-yeah.. okay.” He muttered, all cockiness washed away in an instant. He unbuttoned your jeans and leaned down to kiss you again, trying to regain any ounce of sanity he’d lost in under five seconds.

You felt him tug at your jeans and you kicked off your shoes before lifting your hips to help him shimmy the denim off your legs. You were glad you’d worn cute underwear tonight. His lips still slotted against yours, his hand moved to touch you over your underwear.

He could feel just how wet you were, which brought a wave of confidence back into him and he smirked against your lips. He kissed the side of your mouth and made his way down your body, leaving a trail of small marks that would disappear within the hour. He kissed your thighs, moving down between your legs as you opened them for him. He sucked and nipped your inner thigh, getting dangerously close, yet never close enough. He threw one of your legs over his shoulder, looking up at you. “Tell me what you want.” He whispered, leaving a small hickey on your soft skin.

“You, Eddie.” You moaned quietly. That was all he needed to grab your underwear; they were made of a black, delicate lace, but after a moment, Eddie ripped the material in half. You gasped, looking down at him.

He shrugged, “I’ll buy you new ones.” He said simply before tossing the shredded fabric over your shoulder and throwing your other leg over his shoulder. He gripped your thighs, his cold rings contrasting with the heat of his hands on your skin, and tugged you closer. He pressed a delicate kiss against your skin before sliding his tongue up your slit and immediately your hands tangled into his hair.

He moaned against your cunt, the vibrations causing your thighs to clench slightly around his head. His tongue explored every inch of you, causing you to slowly unravel. You bit your lip as he focused on your clit, holding back any noises that threatened to slip past. You eventually felt his fingers slip into you with ease, two of his rings having been removed without you noticing. He looked up, noticing that you were biting your lip.

“Let me hear you, love. Don’t hold back.” He instructed before returning to his work.

You tossed your head back and let out a guttural moan as his fingers reached a spot within you that you’d only been able to reach a few times.

“There she is. Music to my ears.” He mumbled against you, focusing on rubbing that spot and licking circles around your clit.

You knew you wouldn’t last long. It had been a while, for one, and it didn’t help that Eddie really knew what he was doing. Your hands tugged at his hair, holding him where he was.

“God.. Eddie. Fuck, just like that.” You stumbled out, grinding your hips up into his face.

He groaned against you, which brought you closer to your release. “Don’t stop.. please.. Eddie..” you whined as your grip tightened on his scalp.

You quickly felt yourself reach a peak, and then, with a breathy moan, you were cumming with his fingers and tongue helping you ride you through it, your thighs shaking and shut tight, trapping his face where it was.

Once he was sure you were satisfied, he removed his fingers and licked them clean, making eye contact with you the entire time. He wiped his own chin with his thumb, cleaning it off too before moving up and kissing you chastely. You smiled into it, breathless and recovering.

“Feel good, angel?” He asked, his face still close to yours.

You nodded, chuckling, “Yeah.” You replied, mind still a little hazy.

He looked down at his watch. “If we leave now, we should make it just in time. You sure you’ll be able to walk?” He teased.

You smacked his chest with what little strength you had, still feeling a bit limp. He laughed and reached up, stretching to grab your bra and shirt from the front of the van.

You two smiled like idiots as you got dressed, and once you were ready, sans underwear now, you pulled him by his collar in for another kiss.

The two of you walked got out of the van, giggling and appreciating the chill of the summer night that cooled your sweaty bodies off.

Eddie’s hair was a mess, and when you pointed it out, he laughed and threw it up in a ponytail on the crown of his head.

“You look like a cheerleader.” You giggled.

“And you look like your legs are made of jello. Like a baby deer.”

“And who’s fault is that?”

“Definitely yours. Not my fault I’m good at what I do.” He shrugged. You chuckled and he held an arm out for you, which you gladly took to support yourself as the two if you walked into the venue.

The concert was loud and packed, but once you and Eddie made your way to the pit, you couldn’t care less. The two of you sang along to the songs, dancing and laughing like nobody else existed.

And to the both of you, nobody really did.

Tag List: @mcueveryday @bebe0701 @emma77645 @edsforehead @manda-panda-monium @nina211544 @wendyfawcett

[skullsnbruises]

Catboy Soot just dropped-

Hello! @/poprockpanda and I can’t stop making edits of Wilbur as a catboy, and then i was given the idea of making a fic, and I couldn’t help myself <3 idk if this counts exactly as g/t? But it’s my account and I do what I want<3 so here!

[Ao3 Link]

Taglist: @brick-a-doodle-do @poprockpanda (SORRY FOR SECOND TAG) @da3dm

Feline Fine

Chap. 1 - Cat Out of the Bag!

There was something nice about taking a walk down the street without a real reason. Not needing to go to the store, not needing to meet someone, just enjoying the bustle of the city and getting some fresh air. Tommy could go wherever he wanted, having the whole day free to do so.

He walked past buildings slowly, no particular aim as he crossed the street. Traffic was light that day, the birds were out and about flying through the air, and even people’s faces seemed friendlier. Tommy was happy to take it all in, not a care in the world. Until, he passed by an alleyway, to hear a small and distant cry.

Instantly he thought he might’ve just run into a dumpster baby, and his heart panged. He imagined those movies where a child had been abandoned and then adopted by a passerby. Tommy was not at all intending to adopt this baby-

Why was he even going so far with this random, and probably inaccurate, thought??

He’d just check out the noise. Quickly. Then back to his walk.

He peered into the dark strip between the two shops, brick walls on either side. Tommy would be lying to say he didn’t feel a bit anxious looking down there. You normally avoided dark scary spaces, ‘cause there might be wronguns down there. But curiosity killed the cat, he supposed.

He crept slowly through the alleyway, minding the trash and dirt as he went. He cranked his ears to catch sound of the foreign cries again. He waited, waited… maybe he imagined them?

And then- a meow.

Oh! So his “abandoned baby” thought was wrong after all. Still, he had been somewhat on the right track.

Tommy spotted a box, scribbled in marker over top of it “please take care”. He cocked an eyebrow, wondering why the hell someone would not only dump a cat by the dumpster, but tape the box shut as well.

The blonde glanced around, and he found a shard of a broken beer bottle. He picked it up with a mildly disgusted expression, worried of disease, and then cut into the tape, careful not to slice too deep for fear of the cat inside.

The meows started up again, louder. And as soon as Tommy had cut through the slip of tape, they paused again. Hesitantly, he lifted the flaps of the cardboard box, and peaked inside.

Staring back with dilated pupils was a matted long-furred black cat with twisted whiskers and bright brown eyes. Something clicked as they met eyes, and Tommy was taken aback.

All in an instant, the cat was out of the bag- er, box- and it darted through the alley. Tommy panicked, and took chase, worried like hell.

The blonde raced across sidewalks, keeping the black cat within eyesight at all times. It seemed smart enough to try to shake him of its trail, but Tommy was fast too, and turned this way and that to stay just a foot behind.

The cat took a sharp turn, and ended up backing itself into a corner. Tommy pumped his arms, drenched in sweat, as he came up to the cat. He slowed his pace, the adrenaline running out as he panted heavily, and entered a mock staredown with the feline. They both had a steady rise and fall of their chests as wide eyes glared nervously. Neither made any sudden move, too afraid how the other’d react.

“W-wait,” Tommy heaved, then questioned why he was talking to an animal, “I- I don’t want to hurt you,” he hoped it would understand anyway. Hands came out softly, gently. He positioned down to his knees, remaining consistent eye contact.

Tommy outstretched a welcoming hand, “Come here… pspsps,” he called quietly.

The cat stared, blankly for a moment, before it took the chance and shifted its paws slowly, one in front of the other. Gradually making its way closer. A second or two and the eyes would glance back to Tommy’s expression, watching intently for a change, for a frown, for any aggression before it would move again.

The feline was right before Tommy, and it closer detail and view, the blonde could see how dirty it was. The fur was clumped and shedding. It looked rough and fine, like a brush would tear it all out. There was a chip out of its left ear, and old wounds that trailed through its skin, only slightly covered by the mess of loose pelt. The poor thing looked quite skinny too, starved, if Tommy had to guess.

It sniffed the blonde's hand with great interest. Tommy didn’t dare take a breath as he stilled his body. The cat judged him, stared through him, sniffing like it could tell Tommy’s true intent through a whiff.

The furball decided it trusted Tommy, rubbing a cheek against his fingers. He smiled, scratching underneath its chin.

“Let’s get you home, poor thing, would you like that?”

The cat purred deeply, leaning into Tommy’s touches.

“Alright, let’s go then,” he smiled.

And like that, a simple meaningless walk turned into adopting a cat. Tommy wrapped an arm underneath its belly, and scooped it up so he was holding its rear in one hand, the cats body supported by his shoulder, with its head facing behind the blonde. He sighed as he turned out of the alleyway, and made his way, noting the street signs to head back home.

What did he get himself into?

[divinemissem13]

I was tagged by @elephant-in-the-pride-parade.... 20 fic writing questions here we goooooooo 1. How many works do you have on AO3?: 58

2. What's your total AO3 word count?: 171,059

3. What fandoms do you write for? Star Trek: Voyager, Prodigy, Next Gen, Picard, Strange New Worlds... I've also dipped a toe into some other fandoms recently, but mostly drabbles.

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

Gotta Start Somewhere! (Trektober 2022) (198)

Rotund (113)

Postlude to a Kiss  (98)

What Happens on the Holodeck Stays on the Holodeck (97)

Kitchen Confidential (87)

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not? I don't always have a lot to say, but I try to at least acknowledge comments with a heart or a "thank you."

6. What's the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending? Hmmm probably Just Another Love Story (J/C Workforce AU)? Most of the time I try for at least a hopeful ending but that one is a real cliffhanger... Forever, Honey, and Au Revoir, Mon Amour are also probably in the running (thanks, Whumptober).

7. What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending? As I said, I do like a happy ending, so this is harder to narrow down... but I think maybe All Things Bright and Beautiful (very fluffy Beverly/Kathryn fic)... or else maybe The Best Things In Life Are Free (J/C domestic fluff)

8. Do you get hate on fics? Not really, although I have gotten comments here and there where people are pretty adamant about how they want the story to go... even if it's not the way I'm planning it to go 🤷‍♀️

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind? I will heavily imply it from time to time but that's as close as I get!

10. Do you write crossovers? What's the craziest one you've written? Within the Star Trek universe, absolutely... And Beverly/ Kathryn is one of my favorite pairings. I also attempted a Doctor Who / Voyager crossover but ended up spending the whole time with Ten & Donna... who knows, maybe I'll give that another try eventually.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen? Not that I'm aware of (except probably Chat GPT)

12. Have you ever had a fic translated? No one has but I would be open to it!

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before? Did my first one very recently! Kathryn vs Coffee with @magdalenejaneway

14. What's your all-time favourite ship? Kathryn Janeway/ Chakotay.... even though I'm a bit turned off by Robert Beltran at the moment, I've mostly been able to disassociate the character I write with the actor! But I do also love Kathryn/ Beverly and Picard/ Crusher (TNG)

15. What's a WIP you want to finish, but doubt you ever will? N/A

16. What are your writing strengths? Getting inside characters' heads/ working out why they did whatever dumb thing the original writers made them do because they had to crank out 24 episodes a season 😂

17. What are your writing weaknesses? Plotting out a story in advance, visual descriptions

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language for a fic? I love languages but if I'm going to use another language in a fic, I will double and triple check that all of the vocab and grammar are correct and also make sure to provide a translation or enough context that one isn't needed.

19. First fandom you wrote for? Star Trek Voyager

20. Favourite fic you've ever written? Most challenging fic that I think I'm most proud of: Flecks of Light and Dark (depression focused J/C rewrite spanning from 'Hope and Fear' through to 'Latent Image') But the one that kind of lives rent free in my head at the moment is All the Wounds We Cannot See (Kathryn and Beverly meet-cute, post-Picard season 3)

That was a fun little trip down memory lane! I will tag (with zero pressure!) @madamairlock, @n-square, and @captainhattersvoyagerreviews... and anyone else who wants to answer the questions!

[tsuki-chibi]

Ladynoir July 2023 Day 13: In the Dark

Read all the entries on AO3

--

“I never thought I’d say this, but I would give my allowance for the next three years to have the night back,” Queen Bee announced. She was sitting there with her eyes shut and her hands pressed over her eyes, but even that didn’t seem to be enough to keep the light out. Chat knew exactly how she felt.

“Don’t get discouraged. At least the light makes it easy for us to see everything the akuma is doing,” Ladybug said, clearly trying to force some cheer into her voice.

“I don’t think that’s helping,” Chat said, letting his shoulders slump. He also shut his eyes, pressing his face to his knees. The world outside of his eyelids was so unbearably bright though, that the light seemed to seep in even in his protective position.

Today’s akuma appeared to be terrified of the dark. It’s whole body appeared to be coated with millions of fireflies that were so brightly lit that the akuma was genuinely painful to look at. It had taken Chat several minutes to get the dancing spots out of his eyes after stupidly looking right at the akuma. It was like looking at the sun.

As if that wasn’t bad enough, every light in Paris had been cranked up to eleven. Even the sun seemed brighter than usual. Not a single part of the city was cast in shadows anymore. It was after midnight, yet the sun was higher in the sky and it was brighter out than it sometimes was at noon. There was no sign of the moon. The sun had just kept shining away.

“Maybe that’s the problem,” Rena said.

“What do you mean?” Ladybug asked.

“Well, if we can see everything the akuma is doing, they can see everything we’re doing,” Rena said reasonably. Chat lifted his head to look at her. In addition to her usual fox costume, she was wearing a pair of sunglasses. Queen Bee had bought several pairs from a store after realizing that they couldn’t exactly fight an akuma if they couldn’t see because it was too bright. The sunglasses helped, but only a little.

“That makes sense,” Ladybug said slowly. “This would be easier in the dark. But… how can we make that happen?”

They all looked at each other cluelessly.

“A giant umbrella?” Chat offered lamely.

“A tent?” Rena suggested.

Queen Bee just shrugged.

Ladybug sighed and drummed her fingers on the rooftop. “Even if I cast my charm and we did get something like that this time, how could we make the akuma stay under it?” she wondered. “Wouldn’t the akuma just move out from underneath a tent and an umbrella?”

“Oh, right,” Rena said, sounding disappointed.

“Hang on,” Chat said. “What if we combined something like that with Carapace’s Shellter? The akuma wouldn’t be able to escape from the dark if there was a barrier keeping them in, right?”

“That’s brilliant!” Ladybug exclaimed excitedly, clapping her hands. “Okay. You three keep an eye on the akuma. Try to herd it towards – um – towards the park near the school. I’ll go get Carapace. We’ll meet you there. I’ll cast my charm and hope that Tikki’s been listening and gives us just what we need.”

“Good luck!” Chat called after her as Ladybug scrambled up and away. He had no doubt that their plan would work perfectly.

But as he turned back to Rena and Queen Bee, who were both looking at him with baffled expressions, one problem occurred to him.

How on earth were they supposed herd this akuma to the park when they couldn’t even look at it?!

[d-trashbandicoot]

The last 4 years : a retrospection (part 1)

I guess looking back it wasn’t the running away that saved me, it was the time living the easiest way available. All these years growing up imagining the way the real world would be. Unaware that my mind was skewed, biased, against me. There was a simple reason for the way I felt. In between; the bouts of youthful despair, in fear of there being nothing to live for in the future, and the moments of overzealous joy, where the world was so bright and full of hope.

Perhaps it was this reason one would always return to Star Trek TNG and Avatar TLA, in the darkest of times. To remember that fleeting feeling of hope. To grasp at the last threads of love and humanity.

In my bipolar support group the other day I brought up the idea that if there was ever a magical cure all of a sudden for bipolar, I didn’t think I would take it. I’ve ridden this bull this long and boy when the adrenaline hits, sure life is sweet. Granted at the lowest it is normal to question whether one's ride will end violently this time under the hooves of the bull.

The topic shifted onwards and we ended up on the truth that this illness, in part, cranks the emotional feelings and reactions up to eleven. Our emotions hit us so strongly, we often feel more than our "healthy" peers. And whilst the downs may be horrific the ups are emotions many could only access with by intoxication.

Alas, it is my circumstance of being a middle class Nepo-baby that has not only kept me out of institutions but dragged me along to get where I am today.

That paragraph makes me sick. But I guess that's where my illness festers these days. The only valid target of the darkness. Capitalism and its proprietors. Those who put profit above life.

At this point I have repeated the last 4 years to so many as a quick snapshot of movement. I have also written plenty on the past around the time of my diagnosis. But I never really looked at the 3 years of healing that I did. At the time it did not feel like healing, but hindsight also makes for pleasant surprises. At the time it was about survival, just finding a way out from that godforsaken tax haven.

But it gave me what I needed. Stability, schedule and money. All I had to do was go to work each day, keep my head down, get through the day and then I'm home. On the couch with the family smoking weed whilst watching Tv. Except half the time it would be football. That made it very easy to let the THC work its way and process my past, present and future. In the presence of my own family I have spoken thousands of words to myself. My change was happening right in front of them, in my mind, and then never even knew. After all, it's not something a mother should hear of her own child. At least not till I could say I truly know myself. Not till I knew where I began and where the affliction ended.

Now, many times these introspections were triggered by the theme of the film or show we were watching, or the news. The news was the worst. And for the latter year'n'half I had to work in an office with bloomberg or some other 24/7 financial news channel.

I would say this was also spurred on by the DMT I brewed and drank back at Uni. The cannabis had started to bring up the elements of the trip and each night I was filled with I get it now moment. At least that is how it feels now after another year and 5 months of moping around the mainland.

Realistically it wasn't every night, no...

surely it couldn't have been...

Whatever it was, it worked and kept me going. When the family dog died I felt the weighted reason to stay, on that island, go. A deciding factor, the thing that tipped the scale was removed and now the scales swung to the other side. So I decided to leave..

Consciously, this time. Mulled it over for some time, although my mind was set. I went to Bristol for a weekend and told my parents when I got back, that this is my plan. We talked, they had reservations and it felt like a battle. In the end I felt as if I had offended them, betrayed them in a certain way. More so my father, I think my mother understood. Her prime concern was for my welfare, his was more focused on financial stability. After 2 more months I left.

[corruptedcaps]

Goth or not

This is based on a request from @ab1nsur . I hope they and you like it.

Larissa nearly gagged as she walked onto the convention floor. It was like comic-con for self centred brats. Every stall was hocking some new kind of beauty product or diet or similar crap. She hated this superficial world and hoped no one would recognize her. Although being a goth she did stand out in the sea of bright pastels.

She wouldn’t even be there if her stupid twin sister Belle hadn’t begged her to drive her there. Despite literally being the same age, Belle had yet to get a drivers licence so relied on Larissa to bring her places. Of course Larissa made sure she got something out of it.

“Alright enjoy your stupid Barbie Con with your friends or whatever the hell this is, where is my fifty bucks?” Larissa said to Belle who was busy squealing with her two best friends Courtney and Alexis at the sight of it all. Rolling her eyes Larissa snapped her fingers in front of Belle finally snapping her out of it.

“You get the money when we get home remember? If I give it to you now you’ll just leave me here. Have fun, look around a bit, maybe you’ll pick up so tips to fix… all of that.” Belle said gesturing to Larissa’s whole look causing Courtney and Alexis to giggle and the three walked off into the convention hall.

Larissa groaned and dragged herself towards the food court. She coughed as she went through clouds of perfume and pushed herself through gaggles of women giggling at her.

After an hour she was throughly bored and couldn’t take it anymore. She searched the massive hall for her sister for another 30 minutes before finding Belle and her friends in front of a booth. They were all standing outside a weird pink tube of some sort. It had a door and looked like it could fit a person.

“Alright Belle I can’t stand this anymore, give me the $50 or I’m out of here right now.” Larissa said. Belle turned around annoyed.

“God Larissa you’re such a buzzkill! I was just about to try out this new makeover machine and…. Wait. I have an idea. How about you try this machine out. You do that and I’ll give you the $50 right now AND you can leave.” Belle said with a mischievous grin on her face as the other two girls giggled. Larissa thought about it for a second. The machine looked ominous but it couldn’t be any worse than staying there for a few more hours.

“Alright deal but have the money ready when I get out otherwise I’ll leave you here and never drive you anywhere again.” Larissa said stepping into the machine.

“Now how does this wor-” Larissa started to say before Belle slammed the door on her. Belle smirked as she cranked the dial up past ‘hottie’, ‘babe’, ‘sexpot’, ‘temptress’ to its final setting of ‘mega bitch’.

Inside the machine Larissa was alone in the dark until a laser light began scanning her entire body. It was then that she noticed that the door had a mirrored back so she could see herself. As the scan finished she felt two clamps squeeze around her arms locking her in place.

“Hey! What the hell is this.” She yelled but the machine was soundproof. As she struggled to get loose a pulsating light began to flash pink. That’s when the voice started.

“You are a powerful and beautiful brat.” It said over and over again as it started to flash up images of girls like Belle and her friends. Narcissistic and vain dolls who lived for their own pleasure. Despite her restraints, Larissa was still able to resist.

“No… I’m…. Not… like… those…. Sluts!” She groaned trying to look away from the images and ignore the audio.

“Resistance detected. Scanning memories for more specific treatment. This is your sisters fault. You deserve her respect. You deserve her fear.” It said over and over.

“No! She’s a brat but she’s still my sister. A sister who dragged me here. A sister who tricked me into this machine. Yesss it is all her fault! She should respect me! No she should fear me!” She moaned as the machine found its way into her mind.

Her pupils’s began to dilate as her resistance weakened and she became entranced by the lights and the images and stopped struggling. The machine then proceeded to pump her body full of pink liquid through her restraints. Her body started to transform slowly. Her skin tanned and her hair lightened.

“Your sister is worthless. She is beneath you. You deserve everything she has.” The machine continued.

“Yessss she is pathetic! She is a worm ohhh but what could she possibly have that I want?” Larissa said just barely clinging onto her goth persona.

“You should have her clothes. Her friends. Her power.” The machine said pressing on with her transformation. Her lips grew larger, her tits grew bigger and her now platinum blonde hair become thick and long.

“Why would I want any of that? She’s a loser bimbo with beta bitches hanging on her every word and I’m…” she said trailing off as the strobing slowed down and she was able to focus on her own reflection. She hadn’t noticed how drastic the machine had worked. It had felt so good she didn’t even question what it was doing but now she could clearly see.

She looked every inch the kind of girl who would stuff her in a locker, who would call her names and have a gaggle of girls laughing at her inane jokes. She looked like the enemy and she loved it. Any reservations she had were gone looking upon her new perfect face. The machine had even put a stylishly bitchy outfit on her. She didn’t have to be the victim anymore, she could be the villain and look gorgeous doing it. She even knew who her first victim could be.

“… and I’m the Queen Bee.” She said with a smirk to herself as the restraints lifted and the door started to open. The first person to see her was her sister and she loved how Belle’s mouth dropped open upon seeing her.

“Larissa wow you look…” Courtney began.

“… utterly gorgeous and mean.” Alexis finished.

Larissa loved how the two girls looked at her now. The disgust they once had for her was gone and replaced with reverence and awe but also fear. The fear of having someone they once bullied be now clearly superior to them.

“Thanks girls, but please call me Lacy, it’s so much hotter. Aren’t I just perfection in heels? Wish I could saw the same about you sis.” Larissa/Lacy said looking at Belle dismissively causing the two other girls to giggle. Belle shot them a look and they stopped.

“Alright you had your fun now it’s my turn out of my way.” Belle said pushing past her now more beautiful sister. Lacy laughed as Belle entered the chamber. She was going to shove her in herself so this was a lot more convenient.

Lacy looked at the dial and was about to crank it to its lowest setting when she spotted a button labelled ‘reverse’ which she pressed instead. Lacy stepped over to Courtney and Alexis who flanked her, recognizing their new leader. Moments later the machine whirled to a stop and the door creaked open. Belle stepped out looking identical to when Larissa stepped in.

Her hair was black, her clothes were dark and her skin was pale. Everything that had been Larissa was now in Belle who looked confused. “W-what happened?” She asked.

“Look girls, even a makeover machine couldn’t make Bellatrix attractive.” Lacy sneered and Courtney and Alexis laughed.

“Bellatrix? W-why are you calling me that? I’m… I’m…” the new goth said before catching herself in a mirror. The machine had pumped her full of Larissa’s memories, thoughts and ideals. Belle was inside trying to get out but Bellatrix was now the new home owner.

“A goth loser. Go cry to the food court until we’re ready to leave.” Lacy said finishing her sisters sentence. Bellatrix scowled at Lacy and ran off embarrassed.

“Wow Lacy that was pretty mean.” Alexis said in equal part shock and glee.

“Yeah mega bitchy.” Courtney added liking her new friends style.

“Ah girls you say the nicest things. Come on i need to touch up my makeup in the bathroom but really how much more perfect can I get.” Lacy said with a laugh as the three of them walked off.

[monstersandmaw]

This one predator ask got me angry about too dark movies again.

There was a post somewhere comparing lord of the rings and game of thrones, how got is so much darker and hard to see but some people apparently think that's important because realism.

Someone argued that it's a fantasy setting so who knows, the moon might be brighter there or people see better in the dark and good lightning reflects that and I'm like, not to dismiss cool fantasy theories but it doesn't really matter. It's still a movie and as much as I want the world and plot to be convincing, I'm still aware it's just a movie.

No one complaines about how soundtrack makes it unrealistic cause where the hell is the music coming from. We have time skips, subtitles when they speak languages we don't know, everything is in a language that's not actually spoken in that world, but making sure we actually see what's happening would be too unrealistic?

I just hate when I can only watch a movie in a completely dark room, sorry for the rant

Agreed - plus if it’s medieval fantasy, or even “””historical””” like, say Last Kingdom, THEY DID HAVE FUCKING LIGHT SOURCES!! They had beautiful hanging lamps and braziers!! It was bright!! The dark ages were super colourful!!!

But yes, in general, you can show it’s dark without having to crank the brightness up and turn all your home lights off.

[carry-the-sky]

Kastle + 2 for the touch writing prompts 💕

based on the prompt: a touch with relief

also on ao3

shout out to @onebatch2batch and @ninzied 💕

.

She’s late.

Frank’s eyes dart to his phone. Screen’s dark, same as it was when he glanced at it a minute ago. No missed calls, no texts. He swigs his coffee, more to swallow down the muted panic in his throat than anything else.

“Fresh cup for your friend, honey?”

Frank looks up. The waitress—Jo, her name tag reads—is nodding at the mug of coffee he ordered for Karen when he got here.

His eyes linger on it a moment before he shakes his head. “I’m good, ma’am. She’s, uh—she’s on her way.”

Frank must look as keyed-up as he feels, because Jo offers him a gentle smile. “You got it,” she says. “Just holler when she gets here, okay?”

Then she’s walking off. Probably assumes he got stood up by a date, and hell—he almost wishes that’s what this was. At least he could shrug that off, carry on with his day instead of sitting across from an empty booth, chest slowly going tight with dread.

Frank pushes back from the table, forces himself to breathe. Maybe something came up at work—a deadline got pushed up or a source backed out last-minute and Ellison’s got her holed up at the office doing damage control—

His hand twitches for his phone. They’ve been meeting for lunch pretty regularly for the past month or so, but Karen always shoots him a text the day before to confirm. He scans her last message in their thread—Tomorrow still good? Same place as last week?—and something in his chest twinges. Maybe it’s an occupational hazard, or maybe it’s just her way of making sure he won’t bail—either way, Frank can’t blame her. He’s far from atoning for the way he left things that day at the hospital. It’s a small miracle she let him back into her life at all.

Frank’s eyes flick to the time at the top of the screen. It’s going on twenty past the hour. Hell with it—maybe he’s being paranoid, but his gut says something’s off. He hits the call button next to her name.

It goes straight to voicemail.

His pulse stutters. It doesn’t mean anything, it doesn’t mean—

He tries her again.

Hi, you’ve reached Karen Page. Please leave your name and number and I’ll get back—

Shit. Frank swipes over to his contacts, scrolls until he finds the number for the Bulletin’s front desk.

“New York Bulletin,” a cheerful voice answers on the second ring. “How may I direct your call?”

“Is Karen Page in?” he asks, straining to keep his voice steady.

He knows what the answer will be, but it still lands like a gut-punch when the receptionist tells him that Ms. Page is currently out of the office. His hand is shaking when he hangs up.

Jo is making the rounds again, and Frank doesn’t miss the sympathetic glance she shoots in his direction. He takes a deep breath through his nose, slow and steady to counter the hammer of his heart. He needs to focus, think.

Hanging around her office is a non-starter—he’s let his beard grow out, but his face has been plastered across the front page enough times that the damn receptionist would probably recognize him now. He could try Karen’s place on the off chance she ran home—

Frank’s fingers twitch against his phone. He should get up, move, do something other than sit here with this familiar tension cranking up his sternum. One thought spins on a turntable in his head—something’s wrong. Something’s wrong. He let his guard down, let himself breathe for one goddamn second, and now—if something happened to her—

The world narrows, tilts like a kaleidoscope. He needs air.

He’s dimly aware of standing, tossing a few bills on the table before he’s out the door. The street is thick with noise—people laying on their horns, distant sirens, someone shouting. He focuses on each individual sound, anchors his breath to the steady thrum of the city around him.

He’s not sure how long he stands there—a few minutes, maybe. Long enough for his vision to stop swimming, for the pounding in his ears to subside. Long enough to register his phone, buzzing in his hand.

Her number’s flashing across the screen.

Frank fumbles to answer, almost dropping his phone in the process. “Karen, hey—”

“Frank,” she replies, and relief floods his veins at the sound of her voice. “I’m so sorry—my phone decided to automatically update right as I was leaving for lunch, and then when you didn’t show—I was getting worried.”

He frowns, trying to process her words. “Where—where are you?”

“Sal’s. Why, didn’t you—” she pauses. “Wait, did you go to Cinco’s?”

Frank turns her text from last night over in his head. Same place as last week. They definitely grabbed lunch at Cinco’s—he’d ordered extra steak fries with his burger, just to let her swipe a few from his plate—but, shit, that’s right—they’d swung by a new place afterwards for dessert, some local café that had just opened.

We should try this place for lunch sometime, Karen had said in between bites of her raspberry scone. Frank remembers the dusting of sugar across her upper lip, remembers the small heart attack it gave him when she’d licked it clean.

“Think there might’ve been a misunderstanding,” he tells her now, cheeks warm. Karen just laughs in response as it all clicks together, and Frank lets the sound wash over him, the warmth of it dissolving the tension in his chest. She’s laughing. She’s okay.

“Lesson learned,” she says. “Be more specific. And make sure the phone isn’t going to update.”

“Wouldn’t be a problem if you had one like mine.”

“Not a chance. There’s old-fashioned, and then there’s prehistoric.” There’s a beat of silence, and he knows she’s smiling on the other end of the line. “Listen, I have to head back early today, but are you free for lunch tomorrow? I owe you some fries from Cinco’s, at the very least.”

“Works for me,” Frank says. “Sure you don’t wanna write that down, just to be safe? That’s C-I-N—”

“Shut up, Frank.”

It’s his turn to grin. “Tomorrow, then.”

“Tomorrow,” she echoes.

He stays on the line until she hangs up, weightless with relief even as his blood still hums with adrenaline. It was just a miscommunication—but when his eyes squeeze shut, he’s right back in that hotel watching Lewis drag her into the elevator, praying to whoever the fuck was listening that she’d still be breathing when he got to her.

He knew, even then, what it would mean to lose her. Lose her without her ever knowing—

Make it mean something.

About damn time he did.

.

Karen’s waiting for him when he gets there the next day, sitting in the same booth he was. Her eyes snap to him as he pushes through the front door, and then she’s standing, and somehow before he’s fully aware it’s happening, he’s pulling her close, burying his face in the slope of her neck, breathing her in.

She’s warm. Her arms cinch around his shoulders, drawing him in even closer, and he smells something floral, soft and clean when her hair brushes his cheek. They stay like that a moment, holding onto each other—then she gently pulls back, and the loss of contact aches like a bruise. As he slides into the booth across from her, it’s all he can do to keep from reaching for her again.

Jo comes by with coffee, gives Frank a wink that could be seen from outer space as she slides Karen a mug. When he ducks a glance at Karen, she’s pressing her lips together like she’s trying not to smile.

“How long were you sitting here yesterday?” she asks.

Frank grips his own mug tightly to keep his fingers from shaking. “Not long. Felt like—longer than it was.”

He tries to keep his voice light, but he never did have a very good poker face. And they don’t do that. They don’t lie to each other.

When he looks again, Karen’s face has softened. She reaches across the table, rests a hand against his forearm. “Frank—”

He recognizes her tone of voice, knows she’s about to apologize for something that’s not her fault. After all his bullshit, everything he’s put her through—she’s still the one telling him she’s sorry. She’s still all heart. The ache in his chest digs its roots in, blooms until he can hardly breathe.

“Hey.” He tilts his head to catch her gaze, holds it. “I’m good. Yeah? Might chuck your phone in the Hudson first chance I get, but—”

He’s hoping the jab will pull a smile from her, and it almost does. Her mouth crinkles at the corners. “Still,” she says. “I didn’t mean to worry you.”

He just looks at her—eyes bright and blue and open, and shit, he’s gonna kick himself for the rest of his life for taking his sweet time telling her exactly what she means to him. He slowly turns his arm until his hand grazes her wrist, her palm, and then he’s threading his fingers through hers.

“I’m always gonna worry, Karen. I know you can handle yourself, that’s not what—” he cuts off as she gives his hand a gentle squeeze, swallows thickly before saying— “You’re the most important person in my life. You’re everything. I’m never gonna not worry.”

Now she’s smiling, mouth curved like a moon as she looks down at his hand in hers. “You mean that, Frank?”

“I’m sorry it took me so long to get off my ass about it, but—this thing, Karen, you and me—if you’re in, I’m in. I’m all in.”

He’s not sure it’s happening until it’s happening—one second Karen’s leaning across the booth, the next her lips are on his.

He barely has time to process the softness of her mouth, the warmth of her hand cupping his jaw, before she’s sitting back, looking as stunned as he feels.

“I take it back,” he says, a little hoarse. “What I said about your phone. Damn thing should update every day.”

Karen just laughs, and they both lean in again.

[vicious-vixxxen]

Kirishima X Male!Reader: Late Night Gaming Session

More of the bestest shark boy! Something short and sweet, not sure where it came from, but I had the scenario in my mind for a while, and finally wanted to get it written down tonight. Hope you guys enjoy it :) ))

Shifting slowly, and stretching your limbs out, you sighed contently- outstretched arms shuffling over the other side of the bed- a frown tugging at your lips when you realized it was empty. What the fuck? You cracked your eyes open then, blinking blearily at the clock on the nightstand, the bright red 2:37 blinking back at you. That’s when you finally clued in to the soft sounds from across the room, the incessant ‘taptaptap’ of a keyboard, and the quiet, intense muttering. Of course. Your boyfriend was so textbook.

“No no he totally downed me! I’m right here, Kamin-no! No Sero don’t go in there, don’t go in there!” Kirishima hissed into his microphone, furiously clicking his mouse, and squinting his eyes, as he’d brought the brightness of his screen all the way down. “What?” Kirishima asked suddenly, silent for all of two seconds before leaning half an inch away from his monitor, and pouting. Shoulders hunched in that adorable way you’d recognize from a mile away. The one that meant Kiri’s brows were drawn down tight, his cheeks were puffed, and his tongue was peeking out. “No, /no/, I can’t turn my headset up, I told you Y/N is sleeping, and he needs his beauty rest..” A pause. “Whoa dude, not cool. He’s the most beautiful thing...creature...person..boyfriend....being..cosmic force EVER. Don’t insult my guy like that, come on...no I know it was a joke, but still- besides, those are his words, not mine. He totally went beast mode in a private with Present Mic today, and now he’s totally out of it. Barely made it through fifteen minutes of our nightly cuddle session before passing out on me.” Kirishima explained- shoulders tightening up even more as he finished, and you couldn’t help the stupid smile that was front and center on your face as you stared at your boyfriends back. He was such an adorable dweeb. Swinging your feet out and over the side of the bed, you stood- arms stretched high above your head, a yawn forcing its way out of your mouth. Smacking your lips together gently, you reached back to grab the blanket off the bed- wrapping it around your shoulders, and shuffling as quietly as possible to stand behind Kirishima as he played. Peeking over his shoulder slowly- trying and failing to recognize the first person shooter he was playing. All you knew, was that barely being able to hear his teammates, or see the screen, was going to frustrate the redhead into a frenzy. His fingers would harden and snap the keyboard and house, as they’d done before, and it was expensive as fuck to replace. “Babe,” You whispered finally, waiting for a response, but Kirishima was deep in strategic thought over the game, and you were happy his back was still turned when you rolled your eyes. “Kiriiii,” You sang, right next to the boys ear- nearly jumping back yourself as the other boy jerked back in his seat- headset ripping off as he looked all around himself- pout returning quickly as you buried your face in his neck, laughing. “Dude! So not cool! I thought you were asleep?” Kirishima whined, turning his desk chair around, arms crossed over his chest, as he looked you up and down- leaning back, pout clear as day on his face. “I didn’t wake you, did I?” He asked, as an afterthought, features softening, shoulders even falling slightly, as you shook your head. Spreading your legs to sit in Kirishima’s lap, cuddling the blanket around the both of you now, as you rested your head in the crook of his neck, and closed your eyes. “I’m feeling...restless, and you weren’t in bed like you usually are for me to wake up and talk about nonsense with you while you’re half asleep,” You explained, fondness lacing your tone, as you leaned back, blush bright even in the dark, as Kirishima gave you one of his signature warm smiles- your hands finding their way into his thick, spiky locks. “Jokes on you, cuz I’m fully awake, and now /you/, have to listen to /me/ play video games, while I explain in great detail how all the mechanics work. Even my custom settings.” Kirishima’s smile turned predatory, sharklike, even, as he bared all his teeth, and spun his chair back around. Popping his headset back on, and cranking the volume and brightness back up. Aware enough to look at least slightly apologetic, as you cringed back from the brightness of the screen- lifting your legs up, and curling into Kirishima’s lap, as the both of you settled in, and he started playing again. “Ah, so sleeping beauty is joining us? Welcome back to the world of the living, princess!” Kaminari shouted through the mic, and you huffed- feeling sorry for whoever’s room was next to his. “Maybe if you spent more time resting, and less time gaming, you wouldn’t short circuit every time you touch a battery,” You called back casually, an eruption of laughter coming from the rest of the group chat- you thought you could just barely make out Bakugou and Mina in there somewhere, maybe even Sero. “Low blow,” Kami muttered into his mic, as you sat up a bit, and actually paid attention to what Kirishima was doing. Before long, sitting up straight, and taking control over the keys, while Kiri worked the mouse- movements in sync, both of you screaming through the same headset, cheeks bumping together as you both tried to work one earpiece over each of your heads. Your noses bumped together roughly the third or so time you tried- both of you cringing, before giggling into each other's faces. And then you were kissing, suddenly, and sharply. Kirishima’s hands on your waist, your hands up in his hair- matching smiles pressed against one another as you kissed. And kissed, and kissed. Soft, needy sounds pulled from Kirishima, as you bit at his lips, and swiped at them with your tongue. “I don’t know if I’m horrified, or if I want a live show of whatever is going on on Kirishima’s end right now,” You both barely heard from the headset on the floor- laughing out loud, and turning your attention back to the game. For the time being. “Half an hour?” Kirishima offered, and you nodded. “I can think of something even more fun we can do, one v one.” Kirishima blushed, growling at you playfully, before ordering Kaminari to mind his own business, as you both got back to the game. Kirishima’s arms wrapped around you, and on his keyboard this time. 

[hostilecityshowdown]

“I can’t do this again!” With Shawn and Diesel

Smacking his gum with his feet propped on the dash, Shawn shined his tag team championship with the sleeve of his thick sweater. The Intercontinental strap was lain across his thighs, reflecting the bright lights of the gas station outside the confines of the truck. It was a good truck. In the time since their separation, Diesel had upgraded to a more luxurious cab with a bigger sleeper cabin and more amenities. It was a Peterbilt, and Shawn didn't know a whole lot about big rigs, but he knew Peterbilts were damn fine vehicles. Shawn also knew this promotion had to mean something, like how Diesel holding the World Heavyweight Championship and a tag belt but still running hauls between shows meant something.

Granted, after the pay-per-view, Diesel wasn't hauling anything until Tuesday night, but he still had to drive the truck cab until he picked up his next load. Further reclining his plus leather seat and laying his head back, strap clutched to his chest, Shawn fondly remembered Diesel's red Bronco. He missed the damn thing. Missed the old trucks, too. Missed Diesel, even when he could see him filling up the tank if he craned his head enough. He bounced his leg impatiently, IC belt rattling quietly, Shawn straining to hear through the well-insulated truck door. He could hear Diesel work the pump just fine through the drafty doors and windows of all the old trucks and the Bronco, why couldn't he hear through this one? What didn't Diesel want him to hear? What if the big man turned around and walked his ass right down that long, dark strip of highway and Shawn never saw him again, like how Sid could jam up the hotel room closet door and disappear and-

Scrambling, he frantically cranked the window down and stuck his head out, aiming the least convincing grin at his partner. As soon as he could hear him holstering the nozzle back in the pump and see his creased brow as he caught sight of Shawn, Shawn's paranoia faded to a dull throb behind his temple.

"Price gougers," Shawn whistled without bothering to try and read the total. He knew, even if he was close enough to see it, the numbers would look all scrambled. Diesel frowned deeper as he stared at Shawn, not responding until he was back in the driver's seat and turning the key in the ignition.

"Cheap."

"Huh?" Shawn was struggling to roll the window back up as they pulled out of the parking lot and back onto the unlit highway. His shoulder was so sore. 

"Gas. Cheaper than I've seen in a while."

Shawn's mouth went dry. He gave up on the crank and fell back against his seat, scooping up both belts and hugging them to his chest. A Depeche Mode album he'd never heard moaned over the speakers quietly. He felt like he'd come home, only to find new wallpaper and floors, a new family renovating the house that was now only familiar to him in concept but not practice. He shrugged. "Guess it always seems overpriced when you don't drive."

-

They went from one Michigan town to another. Diesel loved Michigan. Every ride through Michigan was full of stories, be they personal anecdotes, local lore, or indigenous history. This one was eerily silent, but Shawn pretended it was because Diesel was tuckered out, not because they weren't really friends and hadn't been for a long time, don't be silly. The motel they stopped at was squat and dark, and something about it inspired a forgotten terror deep inside Shawn. It was just a motel. It was just a motel. There wouldn't be a honeymoon suite or a heart-shaped tub or Sid's sweaty leather vest and sweaty calloused hands. From what he could see, there were only two other cars in the lot, and one of them had to be the receptionist's, and neither of them were Sid's truck. Besides, Diesel would protect him. Right?

Somehow, Diesel was already gone, the truck cold and ticking as it idled. Inside the cab, Shawn couldn't even hear crickets, his hands sweaty and chilled by the September night at the same time. He didn't want to go back, Diesel wouldn't leave him again, he couldn't-

Tapping at his partly open window startled him so bad he shrieked and jerked away so hard the seat belt locked, belts clattering off his lap, heart racing. The door opened and Shawn's pleas for mercy died in his dry throat as Diesel stepped up and unbuckled him, shushing him, promising him everything was okay, he didn't want to wake him up, they had a room but had to share a bed unless Shawn wanted his own room, he's cold as ice and come inside, Shawn, come get warm and try to eat.

Diesel said everything Shawn wanted to hear, except for an apology. Shawn didn't think Diesel sounded apologetic at all, even when he murmured a quiet 'sorry' for pulling on his roots when he brushed his hair for him later.

-

They slept through morning, woke at noon, and decided to skip the gym. When Diesel tossed his partner the keys and asked him to heat up the cab, Shawn left the room, saw Marty jogging from the motel's main office to his beat up Volvo, and walked right back into the room. Diesel didn't ask when Shawn locked himself in the bathroom, didn't even ask when he knocked on the door and wiggled his fingers under it until the blond slid him his keys, and definitely did not mockingly say it was check out time when it was check out time. Curled up in the sleeper cabin, Shawn munched away on his cold chicken breast and soggy salad, hours old. He met Diesel with a sleazy grin and a little wave when his driver checked on him later, telling him they had to hustle into the auditorium. 

"Sure you don't wanna hustle some of this first, champ?"

"I'm sure," Diesel snorted, hefting both their duffel bags. "Get movin' before I sic Razor on you."

-

"-On a goddamn technicality!" Shawn roared, ripping his hat off and throwing it on the mid-century motel carpet for the upteenth time.

"I know. I was there," Diesel groaned, running his hands down his face. He was laying on the bed, his feet still planted on the floor, getting in the way of Shawn's stomping and pacing.

"This is all your f-" Before Shawn could finish, before he could even whirl around and point at Diesel accusatorily, the trucker was on his feet in front of him, the smell of sweat and leather overpowering Shawn's senses. 

"You with your big fucking ego, as always, Heartbreak," Diesel didn't start off shouting, but he got there. "I can't do this again!"

Blinking, Shawn looked up at him wide-eyed, jaw slack. His Intercontinental championship hung limply at his side. It didn't make a damn difference if it was Sid or Diesel cornering him and raising his voice - Shawn shoved Diesel back, shouting at him, exploding into fists hammering his chest and one caught kick to the chin. Watching him warily, Diesel released his foot and backed away, both hands raised to placate him.

"Okay," he said, straining to keep his voice calm. "Ooh-kaay. No one's going to hurt anyone, Shawn. We're going to bed down, hit the road bright and early, grab some coffee. Find lunch somewhere. Go to tapes. Okay? You're alright."

Shawn got the feeling his shouting actually formed coherent words. His face burned hot, shame filling him more uncomfortably than his fury, and he looked away from Diesel and nodded and muttered to himself as he climbed under the blankets and collapsed in bed face down.

-

Diesel slept in the truck or a separate hotel room for the next two months. Shawn didn't get in the truck at all anymore once Diesel couldn't sport gold around his waist.

[strawwritesfic]

Thor Odinson x Female!Midgardian!Reader: Adventures in a Realm Without Divorce Court [Ch. 1]

Summary: It was supposed to be a standard Vegas trip: drinking, gambling, a night out on the town with your best friend, Jane. A bit too much of the first has you pass out–through your entire wedding! Waking up to find yourself married to your best friend’s boyfriend? Not that great. Even worse? He’s not from Earth, not by a long shot. Worse still? They don’t believe in divorce in his Realm, and you never wanted to be a princess.

Challenge:  “A Twist on ‘I Do’” challenge by Aqua4044 on Lunaescence Archives.

Ratings/Warnings/Tags: T (drinking problems; slow burn; hate to love; sexual references; jerk!Odin; not woobie!Loki; foul language; references to broken families; references to broken-off engagements; love triangles galore; siblings!Sif & Heimdall; set in between Avengers (2012) and Thor: The Dark World; not canon compliant; Jane & Reader friendship; Darcy & Reader friendship; Clint & Reader friendship; Sif & Reader friendship; Loki & Reader friendship)

Pairings: Thor/Reader; Thor/Jane; Jane/Thor/Reader; Clint/Darcy/Fandral; one-sided!Sif/Thor

Tag List: @imaginesfire​

Master List

Chapter 1: The Makings of Disaster

Never before had you been so thrilled to see the sign that welcomed you back to your home state of New Mexico. As your rented bright red convertible hummed across the the asphalt, you kept your gaze fixed on the haze of purple mountains shimmering on the horizon. The wind whipped through your hair. The flat, gray street beneath your wheels remained empty. You allowed your eyes to slide shut for only a moment; heavy sunshine made the inside of your lids glow red. A gentle swerve had you paying attention again, though you lifted your head ever so slightly to breathe in the breeze and the smell of hot, baked earth. Now, truly, everything was behind you: your fiancé’s cold feet, your abandoned apartment, your notice of resignation to the school president, and the feelings of disappointment and pity strewn among each.

In front of you lay the Land of Enchantment, the land of dirt, the land of sunshine and heat waves coming off the pavement and low shrub bushes covering the flat mesas by the side of the road. Some people might not have found the environment beautiful–you certainly would not have in your youth–but the drastic shift was a welcome change from New England. It was something of a relief knowing those mountains would not get much nearer, and that Jane’s town promised more heat and the color brown. Anything to keep your mind off…Well, anything to keep your mind off much of anything, really.

You wanted a weekend without thinking. Your knuckles tightened around the steering wheel momentarily, and then you released a long breath as you cranked up the radio. Just a few days ignoring the twinges, and you’d start planning what you were going to do with your life afterward.

“Forget it,” you crooned to yourself under your breath. The gas pedal shifted underneath your right foot. Soon the landscape blurred behind you and your voice lifted into the air. You’d figure it all out eventually: where you would live, where you would work, who you would remain in contact with.

For the time being, it was just you–you and the open road.

******

The headquarters of one Dr. Jane Foster was in an usual flurry of activity. It would have to be, seeing how small it was and how many people were then inside it. Jane herself had to admit that even she was starting to feel overwhelmed, between Thor’s presence, his friend arguing with Darcy, and Dr. Selvig whispering warnings in her ear while she looked over her instruments one last time before her weekend getaway.

“Jane, I’m not certain that this is a good idea.”

She kept her eyes focused on the reading she was trying to get while she tried to figure out another reason that Dr. Selvig was, as usual, being a mother hen. Jane knew he meant well, but when she’d asked him to watch her things while she was away, she didn’t think he was going to be quite so upset about her bringing Thor along.

“Why?” she asked as she pushed some hair behind her ear and continued moving. Dr. Selvig sighed and came to a stop; Jane had to turn around to catch his answer:

“Because he just doesn’t understand these sorts of things.”

Jane shot a look toward the other end of the room, where Thor was leaning against the wall, watching Darcy triple-check her luggage. When he caught Jane looking at him, he grinned broadly, but soon turned his attention elsewhere. Only once she knew that Thor wasn’t listening did Jane say, “He’s not stupid, Erik.”

He sighed again. “I’m not saying he is. I’m just saying he’s not from around here and Vegas is enough of a trap for people from Earth.”

With a roll of her eyes, Jane decided to end the fretting right then and there. She looked back over at Thor and, lifting her voice, called “Hey, Thor!”

“Yes, Jane?”

“You promise you won’t get into any trouble while we’re there? That you’ll ask me questions if you don’t understand something?”

“Of course.”

Jane turned back to Dr. Selvig with her eyebrows raised. Clearly, Dr. Selvig got the message: Is that good enough for you? But apparently it wasn’t, because he shook his head. “Oh, come on, Erik! He’s saved the world twice now, what more do you want him to do to prove himself?”

“Not get anyone killed while you’re on vacation,” Dr. Selvig answered. “Of course he won’t do anything on purpose, Jane! But that doesn’t mean that nothing will happen.”

“Oh, you don’t have to worry about that.” Both Jane and Dr. Selvig looked around to see Thor’s friend smirking at them from his perch in a chair. Unlike the rest of them, he seemed unconcerned by trivialities such as what to pack. Mostly, he just twiddled with his arrows and smiled to himself, like he found the rest of them unceasingly amusing. “I’m coming along to make sure Thor doesn’t accidentally break anything.”

Somehow, even from several feet behind Clint Barton, Darcy heard and answered that statement by slamming her suitcase shut. “What, you don’t think I could handle that?” she demanded as she came up to the rest of the group. He eyed her for a moment.

“Aren’t you like seventeen?” he asked.

“I’m twenty-two!” Darcy snapped, throwing her hands into the air. “And I’d like to see you taze the God of Thunder, Mister Bigshot.”

By that point, Jane was having to try very hard not to rub her temples. Darcy and Clint had been going at it since the latter had arrived via car with Thor four days ago. It was pretty obvious that Darcy thought Clint was attractive, but who didn’t Darcy find attractive? Jane wished that SHIELD had sent someone that at least wouldn’t think loud arguments were a form of flirting. Hadn’t Dr. Selvig mentioned a pretty redhead with an icy demeanor that spent most of her time around Clint? Even if Darcy found her attractive, it didn’t sound like that sort of woman would reciprocate…

“Look,” Jane said forcibly, and every head in the room swiveled in her direction. “Everything is going to be fine, okay? Dr. Selvig is going to man the fort, and I am going to enjoy having Thor around, and Darcy isn’t going to hire any male prostitutes–”

“I make no promises.”

“Should I make sure to look after you, too?” Clint asked.

“Do you want a taste of my tazer? ‘Cause I can go get it out of my bag.”

Jane rolled her eyes a second time and wandered off, the better to let Clint and Darcy’s voices fade into background noise. Maybe if she showed how stressed out she was getting, Dr. Selvig would leave her alone, too. As she moved across the room, Jane looked at her watch. Where were you? Being on time had never been your strong suit, but she thought she might go crazy if the trip didn’t get a move on soon.

“Are you all right?” Thor touched Jane lightly on the elbow as he spoke. Jane smiled up at him, though she winced a little as she did.

“I’m fine!” she said with a nervous laugh. “I’m just…worried, I guess.”

“If it is about what Selvig said,” Thor’s expression was full of concern, “I really do not intend to make trouble for you.”

“I know,” Jane said as she gently touched Thor’s cheek. “And he knows that, too. Erik just likes worrying.”

“I heard that!” Dr. Selvig called. Jane chuckled, that time more genuinely. Her smile seemed to make Thor feel more at ease as well, because he grinned down at her.

“I am glad that the fixing of the Bifrost and my arrival did not cause you any inconvenience…though I do feel as though I am interrupting your work with this trip.”

“You’re not!” Jane said. “This was already planned. You just have really great timing. Besides, it would be pretty boring, you sitting around watching me work all day.”

“Never boring.” Thor took her hand and kissed the knuckles. Despite that being a fairly common occurrence by that point, Jane still felt herself blush crimson. “You are so passionate that I could never find your work boring.”

“That’s–” Jane began, but she couldn’t finish her sentence. The sound of a blaring car horn cut across her words. Her mouth snapped shut; she looked outside to see a bright red car pulling up to the front of building. “She’s here!”

Before anyone could stop her, Jane pushed the nearby doors open and rushed outside. You were only just getting out of the car when she arrived, and when you saw her, you threw your arms wide open.

“Jane!”

“[Name]!”

Without further ado, the two of you hugged, both laughing. The sound of the door opening again announced the rest of the troop joining you, though neither of you broke apart at that. Even when Jane did step back to beam at you, the group went ignored.

“Thanks for inviting me along on such short notice,” you said.

“It was no problem at all! How have you been?” Jane asked. You cringed slightly, but still tried to pass it off as a smile when you answered:

“Well, I’ve been better.”

“I know. I’m really sorry about the wedding. I was so surprised when I heard he called things off.”

“You and me both,” you said with a snort, but soon your smile was back. “But that’s not your fault. I’m just grateful for something to take my mind off things.”

Behind her, Dr. Selvig cleared his throat. Jane gave him a sheepish smile before looking back at you. He would insist on proper etiquette. Jane’s father might have been dead, but he had done a pretty good job with his choice of father figure. She stepped up beside you, then pivoted to look at the rest of her friends.

“Everyone,” Jane said, “this is [F Name] [L Name]. We were roommates in college. She’s a biochemist up at University of Maine.“

“Was,” you said.

“She was a biochemist at University of Maine,” Jane amended, though she frowned as she did so. On top of everything else, you had quit your job? Things must have been really bad for you to want to leave entirely. That moment wasn’t the time to ask for more details. Maybe later, once the lot of you got to Vegas. “[Name], this is my associate, Dr. Erik Selvig, my boyfriend, Thor, his friend, Clint Barton, and my friend-slash-assistant, Darcy Lewis. More my friend.”

“Uh, rude,” Darcy said, though she grinned. “I’m the best assistant you’ve ever had.”

“You’re the only assistant I’ve ever had.”

“Doesn’t change my point.”

“It’s nice to meet all of you. I’m glad Jane has some friends down here.” Your eyes met Jane’s. “She was really shy in college.”

“Well, she’s not shy anymore, I can tell you that,” Dr. Selvig said as he stepped forward to shake your hand. You took his with a smile.

“It’s nice to meet you, Dr. Selvig. I once had an associate that thought most highly of you.”

Clint and Darcy both greeted you afterward, and then Thor kissed your hand. You smiled wryly and looked over at Jane.

“When did you start having all the luck with men?”

“When they started falling from the sky,” she answered. Your eyebrows shot straight up at that, but Jane didn’t elaborate. She still wasn’t clear on whether or not Thor’s identity was very much “secret.” Probably the truth of it would come out eventually from Thor himself anyway, once everyone got on the road.

As if reading her mind, Clint placed his sunglasses over his eyes and looked pointedly at the car. “I know I’m not the one in charge of this operation, but if we don’t get moving soon, we’ll miss our check-in time.”

“I never told you our check-in time,” Jane said, and looked at Darcy, who lifted her hands to her chest.

“What? Why would I tell him? The more in the dark he is, the better.”

“Are we competing to see who can babysit best?” Clint asked with a smirk. “Because you’re going to lose, Darce.”

“We’ll see about that,” she said haughtily. “And don’t call me Darce! We aren’t friends.”

Clint laughed. Jane stood awkwardly at the center of the group, looking between Thor’s pleasantly curious face, your bemused one, and Dr. Selvig’s expression of complete disbelief at the fact that she was actually going to go through with the trip. For a moment, Jane seriously considered calling it off. Between you being emotionally volatile and Thor…being Thor, and Darcy and Clint being determined to go at each other, the entire thing seemed like a disaster waiting to happen.

But Jane was, if anything, ever-optimistic. Soon she was smiling again. “Well, let’s pack up and hit the road, then!”

“Yay!” Darcy said, darting back into the building to grab her things. Clint followed her at a slower pace, shaking his head.

“You still have a chance to get everyone to stay here, Jane,” Dr. Selvig said quietly. Jane shook her head.

“It’ll be fine! We’re all adults here, right?”

“I suppose.” He still looked doubtful. “You have my number so you can call me if anything goes awry?”

“Yes, Erik,” Jane said. “If Thor’s brother decides to send down another alien being to destroy the hotel, you will be the first on my list of people to notify.”

“You know what I mean.”

“I know, but everything is going to be fine.”

“Loki is imprisoned on Asgard after his attack on Manhattan,” Thor called. He was loading both his and Jane’s luggage into the back of your car. “He will not be able to bother us.”

“Yes, well,” said Dr. Selvig, “I’ve heard that before.”

“Erik…”

“I know, I know. You can handle yourself. Try to look after things, will you?”

“You know I will. And you’ll do the same here?”

“To the best of my abilities.”

“That’s all I ask.”

“Come on, Jane!” Darcy cried. “Let’s get going!”

Jane waved at Dr. Selvig and headed back toward the car. “Goodbye!”

“So, who’s driving?” Clint asked as she arrived. Jane looked curiously at you; you grinned.

“The car is rented under my name, so I’m driving.”

“I call shotgun!” said Darcy, and climbed into the passenger seat without waiting for anyone to argue. Jane, Clint, and Thor made their way to the back of the car.

“Great, that means I get to sit with the happy couple,” Clint said as he scooted over as far as he could go to allow Jane and Thor seats together. Darcy glanced back at him.

“Hey, you want babysitting duty so bad, you can sit there. I don’t want to watch Jane make out with anybody, even if the anybody is as hot as Thor.”

Though his eyes were hidden by his lenses, Jane could only imagine Clint rolling his eyes that that one. Before he could retort, however, Thor clapped him on the shoulder. “It could be worse, my friend. You could be looking after Tony and Pepper.”

A short bark of laughter burst from Clint’s mouth. “Right! If anyone needs to be watched in Vegas, it’s that guy. Let’s hope Nat gets that gig.”

“Are we all ready to go?” you asked from the driver’s seat.

Jane caught your eye in the rear view mirror and tried her best to smile. “We’re ready,” she answered, though not without another pang of nerves about whether or not the entire Vegas trip was a good idea. No one else seemed to feel that way at all, though, so what choice did she have?

“Let us go,” Thor said.

“Wee!” Darcy said, bouncing several times in her seat.

“Then let’s blow this popsicle stand!” you said, and the convertible rushed back toward the road. Jane twisted only once in her seat to see Dr. Selvig watching them go. When you turned a corner, she settled back down, trying to ignore how worried he looked. Because, really, what could go wrong, with two doctors, a political science student, a demi-god, and a trained government agent?

Thor nudged Jane’s shoulder and pointed toward one of the rock formations as you passed. As Jane attempted to meet his enthusiasm with her own, she really hoped that no one would try to answer that question. It sounded more like the opening to a bad joke than reality, and she’d had more than enough of people treating her reality like a joke.