#yeah shove that pos down the stairs

[bentnotbroken1fanfiction]

Tonkla's abusive dad being his first kill is *chefs kiss*

[rat-on-string]

EATS YOUR ART EATS YOUR ART EATS YOUR ART

AHDHISHD thank you…. Eats urs too !!!

[flemingsfreckles]

First Snow

Synopsis: based on this request!

Warning: none, mention of showering together (non-sexual nudity) but nothing descriptive

WC: 2.1k

A/N: hi, I had some personal stuff happen which pretty much ruined my motivation for writing, I wasn’t even sure I’d ever be posting on this account again… but here we are.

“Okay do you have a coat packed?”

“Yeah it’s right here.” You pull out the two hoodies, one of Jessie’s that you had stolen and one of your own.

Jessie just stares at you. “Babe.”

“What?” You shrug as you shove the sweatshirts back into your suitcase.

“I mean a real coat. A winter coat.” She grabs a large puffy coat out of her own bag and holds it up to you.

“That is what I wear in the winter.” You point at the blue and green hoodies that still suck out of your bag.

“Yeah, in Australia, Canada isn’t Australia.” Jessie throws her hands out, looking in confusion at you.

“It’ll be fine!” You brush her off with a wave of your hand.

“No, you’ll be cold.”

“It can’t be that cold.” Jessie just shakes her head at you, a smile creeping across her face. She’d just let you figure out how cold it was on your own.

Turns out, it was that cold. You felt it in your lungs as soon as you stepped off the plane. Jessie took a deep breath as if she was enjoying the sharp sting of the air in her lungs. She must have noticed the way your breath got caught in your throat.

“Cold eh?”

“I mean it’s fine.” You couldn’t let her have the satisfaction of being right already.

“Good because this isn’t even cold yet.” Your eyes widened at her words.

When you arrived at Jessie’s childhood home she gave you a quick tour before she stopped at a window looking out into the backyard. “See the lake?” She says peering over your shoulder and pointing out.

“Yes.”

“It’s frozen.”

“No shit.” You say, grin on your face. You could see the water wasn’t moving, you could tell it had frozen over.

“That’s how cold it gets.” Jessie whispers in your ear. You roll your eyes at her. She turns, giving you a quick smile before walking away and down the stairs to find her parents.

You spent the evening in the living room with Jessie’s parents. You’d met them a few times, at the World Cup, again at the Olympics, a few times when they had visited Jessie when she lived in London, but this was your first time in Canada and your first time meeting them in their own home.

Jessie’s family was warm and welcoming just as they had been every time you had met them prior. The four of you sat around the table having dinner before quickly moving to play cards where Jessie was teased about being overly competitive, a trait of hers you knew all too well.

“Did you see it’s supposed to snow tonight?” Jessie’s mom asks, directing her question to no one specifically.

“Really?” Your girlfriend pipes up, looking excitedly between you and her mom. “She’s never seen a real snow.” Jessie sticks her finger in your direction.

“I have.” You quickly defend yourself. You had always lived by the beach, and while it cooled down in the winter, never enough for a snow storm. London commonly rained, you’d only gotten a light snowing last year.

You had rolled over in the middle of the night to see the streetlights illuminating the tiny dots falling. You had immediately sat up, poking your knee into the thigh of your girlfriend. “Jess.” She shifted but didn’t open her eyes so you tried again. “Jessie, wake up.” You shoved her a bit harder, leaning down to kiss her forehead, hopefully easing the mood you knew she’d be in for you waking her up. “Babe.”

“What?” Jessie’s voice heavy with sleep mumbled out at you. She kept her eyes closed but tilted her head in the direction of your voice.

“It’s snowing, I’ve never seen snow.” At the sound of your words, you’re met with Jessie’s brown eyes. A small smile breaks onto her face as she watches you look excitedly between her and the window. That smile immediately fades when she herself turns to see what would be considered no snow by Canadian standards.

“Look!” You point, sitting up to watch out the window, still excited seeing the flakes fall for the first time.

“Oh babe.” Jessie gently rubs your back as she softly shakes her head. “That’s hardly a snow, it won’t even be on the ground by morning.”

“Oh.” You feel the smile fade on your face, you hadn’t known, in your mind you had expected to walk out to white covered streets in the morning.

“Come here.” Jessie grabbed your arm gently pulling you down into her embrace. She adjusted before gently kissing your forehead just as you had done to wake her up. “I promise, I’ll take you to see real snow some day.”

“The eighth of an inch we got in London doesn’t count, I’ve told you that.” Jessie jokingly rolled her eyes at you. “You’ll get to hopefully see real snow while we’re here.”

It wasn’t long until you and Jessie had called it a night, feeling tired from the long travel day, you both cuddled into Jessie’s bed, under piles of blankets and drifted into sleep.

“Get up.” You feel Jessie’s sharp elbow poking into your side, you roll over and try to register why she’d be waking you up in the middle of the night.

“What?”

“Get up, get dressed, we’re doing something.” She whispers to you before clicking on the bedside lamp.

You flip over again, staring at the freckled face before you. “You’re joking right?” The alarm clock sitting behind Jessie’s curls tells you it’s 2:47 in the morning, you can’t fathom why she’d be waking you up at this hour.

“No, get up.” She yanks the blanket off of your body making you squeal at the sudden chill. “Dress warmly.” She says as she walks over to where her suitcase was sprawled on the ground and begins getting changed. You watch as she strips from her sleeping shirt and shorts. “Quit staring.” Jessie teased when she turns and catches you watching her change. You felt your face flush and you broke your eyes away from her freckle covered skin to move to your own suitcase. Jessie tosses an actual winter coat in your direction, insisting you put it on. You quickly get dressed and follow Jessie out of her room and down the stairs.

“Come here.” Jessie turns you facing toward her before she holds up a blindfold. “Can I put this on you? I want to show you a surprise.”

“Yeah.” You say as she gently slides the blindfold over your eyes.

“You can’t see right?”

“Nope.”

“Okay, we’re gonna walk, I’ve got you though.” Jessie stands by your side, her arm wrapping tightly around your waist. You feel her start to gently pull you and you follow her step by step slowly through the house. You hear the sound of a lock and a door opening and you’re suddenly hit in what little exposed skin you have by a rush of freezing air.

“Okay, step carefully out.” You follow her instructions and hear the door close behind you. Jessie’s fingers find the edges of the blindfold and she gently pulls it up, revealing a sight like no other to you.

The backyard was covered in a thick layer of snow, real snow. The same real snow that continued to fall from the sky. The same snow that you felt melting as it hit your already rosy cheeks. You turned to Jessie, the flakes catching in her hair, her cheeks equally rosy and her smile as big as can be.

You pull your eyes away from admiring Jessie’s face and you start to look around. You were standing in what was probably 6 inches of snow, admiring the way the trees were glistening in the moonlight, the way everything seemed peaceful. It was like you were living inside of a snow globe.

“Wow.” The only word you’re able to come up with as you continue to look around with wide eyes, feeling a sense of childlike excitement in your stomach, the same feeling you’d get trying to go to sleep the night before your birthday, or the sense of adventure you had when you’d get on a plane and feel it lift from the ground. Everything around you was blanketed in the fluff.

You’re pulled out of your admiration for the view by the feeling of something hitting your side before it disintegrates. You turn to Jessie, looking guilty with another ball of snow in her hand.

“Don’t you dare.” You hold a hand out at her and before you can get another word out, she flings the ball at you hitting you square in the chest, some of it coming up to hit your face as it explodes. “You’re gonna pay for that Fleming.” You say before you lunge at her.

Jessie manages to slip from your grip and she takes off running around the yard. You suddenly learn it’s a lot harder to run through snow than it looks. You stumble every couple of steps while Jessie snickers to herself as she watches you chase after her. You manage to hit her with your own amateur snowballs a few times, catching her legs and her back before she turns on you and it’s now you running from her.

Your lack of experience in snowboots and the snow catch up to you and within a minute Jessie’s arms have wrapped around your midsection and you both trip ending up in a tangled pile on the ground. You’re both laughing as you recover from the chaos, feeling yourself sink into the white layer around you. You shiver at the contrast in feeling the cold snow on your back, neck, and down your legs while Jessie’s body heat keeps your front warm.

“I told you it’s cold.” Jessie says, pushing herself up slightly to look at you, a smug look across her face.

“Ehh it’s not too bad.” You try to play it off, it was a lot colder than you expected.

The girl above you leans in, placing her lips on yours and you revel in the warmth of her kiss. “You’re lucky I lent you a jacket.” She says as she rolls off to lay beside you. She doesn’t say anything before starting to swing her legs outward before repeating a similar action with her arms swinging them down to her sides then back up again.

You look over, admiring the love of your life. The way her curls peaked out from under the hat she wore. You started at how the snowflakes caught in her hair, making it sparkle. You admired her rosy cheeks, both from chasing each other around and from the cold air. What you admired the most was the way she was smiling. Her eyes would flutter open, looking up at the snow falling for a moment before closing again, all while she had a huge grin across her face. You loved seeing her this happy, this carefree, this was your Jessie.

“You’ve got a staring problem today.” She teases you again just as she had while she was changing. “Copy what I’m doing.” You don’t ask why, you never had to with Jessie, she said jump you did have to ask how high, you just would, you trusted her, whatever she asked, you’d do your best. So you do, you mimic her movements swinging your own legs and arms.

Jessie stands up, offering out her hand to you, she helps you stand and turns back to face where you had been lying. “Snow angels.” She nods her head at the imprints your bodies had made. You go to answer but when you open your mouth your teeth chatter. Jessie laughs, looking over at you as you shiver.

“Alright, time to go in.” Still holding your hand she pulls you inside where you both take off the big puffy coats, still left in cold clothing. You leave your boots at the mat and follow Jessie back up the stairs and into her childhood bedroom. She moves into the bathroom that was joined between Jessie’s bedroom and what was formerly her sister's bedroom. You hear the shower start running.

“Come, we’ll warm up in the shower.” She says as she begins to strip off her own cold and wet layers. You follow in suit before climbing into the steaming water. The two of you shower together, warming back up slowly between the steaming water and Jessie’s presence, before dressing again in your clothes. You climb into bed, eager to get back into the warm layers of blankets while Jessie moves to her window, adjusting the curtains so that you could watch the snow falling. She then cuddles up behind you in bed, her arms wrapping around your waist, holding you tight against her front.

“I promised I’d show you a real snow.”

[asturniolos]

you too - matt s.

chapter 2 ; you going up?

chapter 1

chapter 3

chapter 4

warnings - just slight swearing !

9:27am

".. and be prepared for friday's lecture; your study on creative expression in poetry. your completed assignments for this will be expected.."

my professor's voice beaming through the lecture hall is muffled by the sound of bolder feelings by the ivy playing in my airpods as i stand up from my seat, grab my bag, and neatly place my things in it. i let out an exhausted sigh and make my way out of the lecture hall, followed by a few other students heading to various other facilities. i glance out of the huge windows of the building i'm in and feel my mood instantly improve at the sight of the heavy rainfall hitting the concrete like bullets. i love winter.

as i approach the stairs leading to the bottom floor of the university, my phone vibrates in my pocket.

annie!🧸 : u ready to be picked up? i'm out front!!

my eyes light up as i remember the coffee date annie and i had planned.

i unlock my phone as i walk and begin typing my response when suddenly i feel a hard shove to my side. my bag slips off my arm and lands at my feet, leaving my textbooks and macbook scattered on the floor in front of me.

i hear a gasp followed by a warm, masculine voice, "holy shit i'm so sorry- are you alright?"

i go to pause my music but realise it has already stopped playing. my jaw drops as i look at the ground and see my phone. my shattered phone.

"what the hell? watch where you're walking!"

i step forward and start gathering my things off the floor and placing them back into my bag, cheeks burning red with anger and embarrassment. i feel a hand place itself on my shoulder.

"fuck i'm so sorry. here, let me help you."

"no, it's fine i've got it.", i reply, shrugging the hand off of me in annoyance.

regardless, the boy bends down and begins grabbing my notebook and pencil case which landed next to him. he passes them to me, apologising a few more times.

"i'm so sorry about your phone. i promise i'll pay to get it fixed, just give me your number and i'll sort it out. is that alright?"

i so desperately want to yell at him for running into me, but his considerate offer convinces me otherwise. i pull my bag back over my shoulder and tuck my thick hair behind my ears. glancing up at him and meeting his eyes for the first time, his slightly wavy brown hair falls perfectly as he brings a hand up to his face and pushes it out of his eyes. he scratches the back of his head while waiting for a response from me.

"um.. yeah that's fine. thanks."

i grab a pen from my bag and tear a piece of paper from my notebook to write my phone number down. i pass the paper to him when i'm finished and watch him read it, fold it in half, and place it in the front pocket of his blue hoodie. i take a deep breath in to calm my nerves and can't help but notice the strong scent of aftershave coming from him. i glance back up at his freshly-shaved face and feel my cheeks glow pink. i redirect my eyes to the floor in an attempt at distracting myself from how attractive he is all of a sudden.

"you going up?", he asks, motioning to the stairs above us.

"down, actually.", i reply.

"you're blushing."

"i am?"

"mhm."

he chuckles.

"let me carry your bag for you.", he asks, the sentence coming across more as a statement than a question.

"it's fine really, you don't have to-"

he cuts me off by reaching for my shoulder and taking my bag from me.

"it's the least i can do."

he grins. i think about taking the bag back from him and walking to annie's car alone but figure it would give me an excuse to walk with him for another few minutes. as we walk, i can't help but stare at the veins covering his hands, completely losing track of the conversation. before i know it he's taking my bag off of his shoulder and handing it to me at the doorway.

"i'll give you a call when my lectures over. should be about an hour or two.", he states, taking his phone out of his pocket and checking the time.

"what are you studying?", i ask.

"filmmaking. what about you?", he replies.

filmmaking. oh my god. could he be the guy annie was telling me about?

"english literature."

"oh so like.. shakespeare and shit?"

i lightly chuckle at his stupid response, trying to come up with another question to find out more about him.

"yeah, i guess you could say that. is this your first year here?"

if he says yes i swear-

"yeah actually, i just moved here from boston with my brothers."

i pause.

"brothers?"

"yeah. i'm a triplet."

no. way.

"my names matt.", he continues, "what's yours?"

"y/n. nice to meet you, matt."

[gallawitchxx]

ficlet friday 🌱

this inaugural ditty is for my sweet sweet anna (@rereadanon), who filled my dms with gorgeous prompts that i'll be writing for weeks. figured we'd start off soft & sweet with some husbands on a date night that mickey planned.

- - -

“Alright Gallagher, we got twenty minutes, you almost ready to go?” Mickey yelled towards the bedroom as he laced up his black boots.

Ian appeared in the doorway, wearing sweatpants and a tank top.

Mickey shuffled from Fuck to That’s my husband before pulling himself back to the situation at hand—Date night. Dinner reservations. Twenty minutes.

“Come on, man, get dressed! Let’s roll.”

“Kinda feeling like I’d rather stay in tonight,” Ian sighed, sauntering over to Mickey and wrapping an arm around his waist.

“Nah, don’t start this shit right now,” Mickey griped, untangling himself from long arms and dexterous fingers. Ian wasn’t even hard against his leg, just trying to push all of the right "Mickey Buttons" to get what he wanted. “I made these plans weeks ago!”

“I know, I just—“

“You’re really gonna like it.”

“I really like hanging on the couch with you. We can order a pizza, roll a joint…”

Mickey pinched the bridge of his nose, inhaling deeply. His pause.

“On a scale of Want to Need, where we landin’, Red?”

Mickey could practically hear Ian's eyes rolling, his chin jutting.

“Want,” Ian admitted.

“Great, so get some clothes on and let’s get on with it,” he said, swatting Ian on the ass as he turned and stomped back down the hall. “Geez, fuckin’ nagging me for months to plan something for your freckled behind, and then when I do, you don’t wanna go.”

A few minutes later, Ian reemerged, dressed in a nice, short sleeved button down and jeans that accentuated his strong thighs in all the right places. Mickey hopped up from the couch to meet him.

“Damn, I thought you looked good in sweats,” Mickey toyed, snaking a hand up his neck and leaning in for a quick kiss. “Almost makin’ me wanna stay in now.”

Ian cracked a grin, shoving him playfully towards the door. “Not a chance, Milkovich. My husband made these plans weeks ago.”

- - - -

“Fuck, marry, kill—Enzo, my old PO Larry, or… that gay ass motherfucker you tried to use to make me jealous. What was his name?”

“Cole.”

“Yeah, Cole. That guy.”

“Hmmm,” Ian thought, taking a drag on the joint that Mickey had rolled while waiting for him to get dressed. He passed it to Mickey, who took it with his free hand. His other was holding Ian’s, of course. Felt good, just casually walking to dinner hand in hand. Faggy, Mickey would say, but good.

“Come on, this one’s easy, man.”

“Fine. Fuck Enzo, marry Larry and kill Cole.”

Mickey spluttered, smoke pouring from his nose and mouth. “Are you outta your mind? You should obviously marry Enzo! He’s exactly your type—mouthy with a rap sheet a mile long!”

“Larry seems like he’d make a good husband. From what you said he was nice and he wasn’t afraid to talk about his feelings.”

“Goddamn Gallagher, didn’t take you for someone with a puppet kink.”

“Shut the fuck up,” Ian laughed. “And gimme that!”

Mickey thought about it for a second, but handed it over. “One more. There’s stairs where we’re goin’ and I’m not carryin’ your lanky ass up ‘em.”

Ian took his hit and offered it back to Mickey, who shook his head, motioning to a restaurant on the corner. “I’m good, man. ‘Sides, we’re here.”

Ian’s eyes widened as he stamped out the glowing ember and handed the joint back to Mickey, who slipped it into a plastic case from his pocket. They smoked the good shit now that came with accessories, so what? Perks of the job.

“Mick, this place is supposed to be really hard to get into.”

“I know. I told you I been plannin’ this shit for weeks.”

Ian stopped walking, pulling Mickey back by the hand and into a hug. “Thank you for doing this,” he whispered, his breath dancing with the soft hair behind Mickey’s ear. “I’m sorry that I gave you such a hard time ‘bout leaving.”

Mickey stepped back, palming Ian’s face with a light pat. “Ain’t seen nothin’ yet.”

With a wiggle of his eyebrows, Mickey led Ian across the street and inside the restaurant. Ian stayed back while Mickey gave his name to the hostess, who smiled and nodded, pulling a couple of menus from a stack on the counter and motioning for them to follow.

The restaurant was busy and buzzing, the room in motion like a well oiled machine. It was a newish spot, having only opened at the beginning of the summer, and Ian had been dying to go because of the—

The hostess pushed past a door with a sign that read TO THE GARDEN with a sketched hand pointing up.

“No fucking way, Mick,” Ian grinned, climbing the stairs behind his sneaky bastard of a husband, beating an excited rhythm into the round flesh of his ass.

“Ey, lay off the goods, tough guy,” he blushed, catching a glimpse of Ian’s mega-watt smile. “Told ya you’d like it.”

At the top of the stairs was another small door that led out onto the roof of the restaurant. Soft white string lights illuminated a sprawling garden that covered the majority of the terrace. Little signs read out the names of vegetables—Zucchinis, Broccoli, Cauliflower—all grown right there and picked fresh every night to serve downstairs.

Ian had raved about it to Mickey as he tended to his own small plot of land in the back of the apartment complex. Isn’t that incredible, Mickey? Bet it’s so good, we have to go!

A single table sat amongst the greenery, draped in a white linen tablecloth and dressed with a single candle in the middle. A basket of fresh bread and oils sat ready for them, next to a chilled bottle of wine and a small bowl of tomatoes—straight off the vine.

The hostess gave them a nod before leaving them alone. Just a couple of husbands with a hundred leafy vines and a city view just for them.

“Can’t believe you did this for me,” Ian said, his voice full of emotion, his eyes wandering from Mickey to the table to the garden and then back to Mickey.

“‘Course I did,” Mickey said, smiling sheepishly, “My guy’s a gardener.”

“I love you,” Ian said, resting his forehead against Mickey’s.

“Love you, too.”

Ian leaned in, catching Mickey’s lips with his own. Tender. Soft. Loving.

Before it could turn into anything else, Mickey broke the kiss, “Come on, think that joints kickin’ in. Let’s see if these hippy tomatoes can hold a candle to the ones my fuckin’ husband grew.”

[faillen]

Heya @actually-yikes​ I hope you’ve started feeling better in the time that it took for me to get this to you 😅 These are twenty super-short PatPran moments—I have it on good authority that PatPran being adorable is a cure-all.

1.

“You’re like a cat,” Pat says, brushing his fingers through Pran’s hair. They’re sitting on the floor, in a patch of sunlight, Pran’s head in Pat’s lap.

Pran hums, stretches out a bit more and pushes into Pat’s hand. “You don’t like cats,” he mumbles.

“Yeah, but I like you.”

2.

Pat twists his finger into the hem of Pran’s shirt. “There,” he says. “Now you can’t leave.”

Pran rolls closer, traps Pat’s hand between his body and the mattress. “Now you can’t, either,” he replies.

“Wasn't planning on it,” Pat murmurs. Pran smiles, pleased, ears going red.

3.

He wakes up to Pran tracing shapes on his spine.

His finger stutters at Pat’s low hum before resuming its curved path.

“A heart?” Pat asks, sleep-rough, eyes still closed.

“No,” Pran lies, his smile audible. “A triangle”

“Sap,” Pat accuses. Pran kisses his shoulder.

4.

“Hey,” Pran whispers. “I love you.”

“I love you, too,” Pat mumbles, clumsily smearing a hand over Pran’s mouth. Pran sputters. “But I'm tired, lemme sleep.”

Pran laughs and tangles their fingers together. “I did all the work.”

“A+ job,” Pat squeezes Pran’s hand. “Sleep, now.”

5.

Pat slips into the shower, fits his hands around Pran's sudsy waist. "I gotcha," he mutters, kissing Pran's neck and then making a face at the bitter taste of soap.

"Oh no," Pran deadpans, looking over his shoulder. "What are you going to do with me?"

"Kiss you," Pat declares.

6.

"I made hot water," Pat says, sprawling across the couch as Pran emerges from their bedroom, drying his hair with his towel.

Pran redirects towards the kitchen. He returns with a steaming mug, tea bag in hand.

"Thank you," he says, carefully leaning over to kiss Pat's hair.

7.

Pran groans when they get to the building entrance and see the puddles outside.

Pat hums. "Race you," he suggests, hitching Pran's bag up on his shoulder.

Pran raises a brow. "No way."

A beat, and then they both slam through the doors���giggling as they splash down the stairs.

8.

"Hey," Pran whispers, crouching down next to the sofa, and Pat opens his eyes, bleary.

"What time is it," he slurs. Pran smiles, tangling their fingers together and tugging until Pat sits up with a grumble.

"Time for us to get to bed, dumbass. You fell asleep during the movie."

9.

"—and one with three," Pat says. "That's al—oh, you have chili paste? Can we get that on the side? Thank you."

The waiter leaves and Pran props his chin on his hand. "What if I want four?"

"You can have one of mine," Pat says, checking the chopsticks and handing them to Pran.

10.

Pran is wearing Pat's shirt.

Pat flops across Pran's legs and carefully lifts up the hem.

"What are you doing?" Pran asks, suspicious, glancing down from his phone.

Instead of answering, Pat shoves his head in, blows a raspberry, and laughs into Pran's soft skin at his yelp.

11.

“Your tie is crooked." Pran steps close and fits his fingers around the fabric, adjusting it gently.

Pat tips his head up obligingly, hooking his fingers in the pocket of Pran’s pants while he waits.

Once he's satisfied, Pran hums. "Perfect."

Pat kisses his cheek.

12.

13.

As soon as Pran sets his drink down, Pat swipes it.

"You didn't want anything," Pran complains. Pat gives him a sunny grin and takes a sip, bracing himself for it to be too sweet.

But it's not—his eyes go wide and dart up to Pran.

Pran smiles, fond, and grabs his drink back.

14.

“Your hands are so dry,” Pran complains, tugging them into his lap and reaching for his hand cream.

He's methodical as he smooths the lotion over Pat's skin, using his thumb and index finger to pull each of Pat's fingers through, and then massages Pat's palm, loosening a knot.

15.

Pat hits ‘share’, and across the room, Pran's phone buzzes. Pat doesn't think anything of it until the notification pops up a second later.

@por.pran liked your photo

Pat looks up from his phone. “Do you have notifications on for me?”

“Of course I do,” Pran replies.

16.

Pran stumbles, grip tightening on Pat's arm. He lets out a grumpy huff.

"Told you competing with Wai was a bad idea," Pat laughs, guiding Pran to sit on the edge of their bed.

"I won," Pran retorts.

Pat kneels to untie Pran's shoes and smiles up at him. "That you did, baby."

17.

Pat wakes up to cold sheets.

But not alone—guitar drifts into the bedroom and threads itself into the space between the blanket and Pat's body.

It's a new song, he recognizes sleepily, pulling the covers closer and drifting back off.

When he wakes again, Pran is next to him.

18.

Pat has never quite understood how Pran can stand working remotely.

But today, it's a blessing. Pat shucks off his shoes and crawls onto the couch, tucking his face into Pran's legs.

"Welcome home," Pran murmurs, carding a hand through Pat's hair, and Pat nuzzles closer.

19.

It's late. But the bedroom lights are on, illuminating the sight of neatly folded laundry surrounding a dozing Pat.

He's clutching one of Pran's shirts—one that Pran had worn before he left for this work trip. He smiles softly and sets down his bag, ready to reclaim his place.

20.

"It's cold," Pat whines, trying to not scrunch his nose as Pran carefully paints on the mud mask. Pran did his own first, and the white of it is cracking around his mouth. "You look like a reverse panda," Pat says.

Pran laughs and pulls away with one last tap. "Now you do, too."

[attempted--eloquence]

Hello it’s me tossing out shit in my drafts again. I humbly present you a wacky thiam college campus coffee shop ficlet that i wrote sometime last year solely bc i had feelings about alt milk fees <3

CW: brief alcohol mention

Theo is three customers away from the coffee shop register nibbling on the crumbs of what was a banana nut muffin as he considers dropping a class just so he can eat a fucking lunch, for once. Third time this week that his anthro course hasn’t let out early enough to nab a ham and cheese quiche.

By the time he darted across campus, up two sets of stairs, and weaved in and out of a campus tour group, the order line for Stomping Grounds wound its way around the front counter, past the condiment station, and out the propped-open double doors with Theo at the tail end. His hopes for decent sustenance fled the coffee shop lunch rush in the hands of the ungodly patron that found it appropriate to not only buy the last quiche before Theo even made it inside the shop, but also to eat it grasped between their grubby hands like a fucking sandwich.

Absolute animal behavior.

So he settled. Claimed the dead last spot in the queue, after which no one joined presumably because of the egregious wait. Twiddled his thumbs through the twelve minutes it took for him to near the front of the line. Made himself unpleasant enough that the couple of classmates that spotted him idling didn’t stick around long for small talk. Snagged a banana nut muffin from the pastry case that, really, he tried not to eat until making it to the register.

But here, now, after a few more minutes of shuffling forward, the muffin’s been reduced to a few crumbs on the inside of a wrapper. He’s still hungry. And certain to be late to his four-hour neuro lab.

He really could’ve used that fucking quiche.

There’s only one barista on duty. Some disgruntled guy that Theo vaguely recognizes, usually works the closing shift. His face isn’t as twisted up and sullen then. And he usually offers up free leftover pastries and the gritty remnants of whatever’s in the coffee urns half an hour before closing. He’s real decent about letting Theo keep studying after hours while he counts down the register and cleans up, even though Theo’s certain that probably goes against some shop policy. Always locks the doors and sends him off with a genial “Have a nice night.”

But now, he’s got lunch rush fatigue written all over him. A thin sheen of sweat clinging to his forehead, cheeks flushed from espresso machine steam, eyes wide and frantic like he’s rapidly burning through both the patience and caffeine that have fueled his shift. His customer-service-smile has fully inverted into a permanent frown.

It’s contagious. His un-sunny disposition. Theo has witnessed the last five customers—at least—get all huffy about the slow service or the fact that the Earl Grey is out of stock or the lack of napkins at the condiment counter. And the alternative milk surcharge. Especially that.

Theo gets the discontent. Almost a dollar fee. For a different kind of milk. Sounds like the kinda thing they’d debate in his ethics class and come to the same conclusion as they do with all other hotly-discussed topics: yeah, the world’s kinda fucked up in general.

But he’s pretty sure the barista on shift didn’t single-handedly implement the policy—despite the fact that he’s taking all the heat for it—so Theo won’t be a dick about it. Even if he wants to. Just a little. Tracy said he’s gotta work on dismantling his natural air of hostility.

“Hey. What can I get for you.”

It’s less of a question and more of a dread-filled entreaty to hurry up and place an order while there’s a lull in activity.

“A banana nut muffin, and…a large oat milk latte,” Theo says. And just because the guy looks about ready to shove his hand in the coffee grinder, he tacks on a belated, “Please.”

“Sure. $5.90. Oat milk costs 75¢ extra, just so you know,” he replies, bitter-voiced as he jabs buttons on the POS system.

Disgruntled Barista Guy goes stiff at the blank expression on Theo’s face, takes on the demeanor of a preemptive flinch, like he is waiting for something worse than Theo’s shrug, outstretched hand gripping a $10 bill, and, “Yeah, I know. That’s fine.”

Look at him. All unhostile. Tracy would be proud.

“Okay,” he exhales, something like relief. He readjusts the lacrosse-stick-embroidered baseball cap on his head. “I’ll have that up for you in a second, Theo.”

Theo falters. He stuffs his $4.10 in change into the mostly empty tip cup that has FEED ME scribbled on the outside mostly as an apology for not knowing how the hell this guy knows him. Says, ���Thanks.”

He squints at the plastic name tag pinned to his apron. Liam. He almost says it aloud, but the window to attach a name onto the end of his halfhearted display of gratitude has closed by the time he has concluded his internal debate about the merit of establishing rapport with someone who’d probably also rather not engage in humdrum small talk. Liam’s got his back to Theo, hunched over his latte cup. The edges of a tattoo peek out from beneath his shirtsleeve.

Ding ding ding. It’s a reminder.

This Liam, lunch rush grump Liam, isn’t just familiar from closing shifts. But from Scott’s potluck at the beginning of the quarter, which was really just a party that happened to have a meager smattering of appetizers to go along with all the alcohol everyone opted to bring.

Theo showed up after most of the snacks were gone but the drinks were plenty. Remembers his half-coherent rambling about wanting a tattoo. Skull with crown. Hazy memories of Liam drawing a sketch of it on his bicep with a silver sharpie. Stiles having to talk Theo out of booking an appointment right then and there and using Liam’s drawing as a reference photo. Right. That night—or, the awful morning after—is the reason he swore off strawberry lemonade Svedka for good.

He’s pretty sure it’s also the source of the one unrecognizable number in his text history. The only message from it was “dont wrory I googled it dude sharpies are nontoxic ook” that probably went unanswered by Theo because he passed out beside the toilet in his bathroom the moment he got back to his apartment.

Huh.

Liam places his drink on the counter with a grin that’s less customer-service-y and more friendly. Says, “See you around.”

Theo retrieves the latte, double-takes. There’s a hasty scrawl of near-illegible words trailing around the circumference of the cup. A ballpoint pen ramble that covers the cup’s surface from top to bottom.

Most of the baristas here draw little doodles on the cups. A smiley face or cartoony mug of coffee with squiggly lines to represent steam. Maybe a “have a nice day!” if they’re feeling particularly chipper.

Not Liam.

Listen, I find the convention of upcharging customers for alternative milks ridiculous and unreasonable considering the vendor prices for these milks are only marginally higher than that of dairy milk so really, non-dairy drinkers are getting scammed for their shitty digestive systems or dietary preferences.

Theo reaches the bottom of the cup. And yet, not the end of the rant, which continues on the drink sleeve Liam had slid across the counter with his order.

Personally, I prefer to upcharge based on how much of an asshole a particular customer is when they order. It’s a much fairer system than capitalism, I think.

There’s an arrow pointing to the other side of the cup sleeve. Theo glances up at Liam, who's got his hands buried in soapy water, washing a sink full of dishes. Real casual like he didn’t just spew his pent-up dairy product industry frustration on an innocent bystander. Theo would be lying if he said he didn’t respect the effort. He flips the sleeve over.

P.S. I didn’t charge you extra for oat milk

P.P.S. Thanks for the tip, you get first pick of stale pastries if you’re here at closing later

Something in Theo’s stomach flutters. Could be butterflies. Or maybe it’s his shitty digestive system.

Half of a person’s caffeine intake is eliminated from the body within six hours of consumption—sometimes neuroscience classes provide more practical knowledge than the redundant lessons on the functionality of the human eyeball—which means his awful caffeine dependence will be in full force soon after his lab ends.

Maybe Theo will swing by the closing shift. Just for the free coffee and stale pastries. That’s all.

[kitdragonflight]

~Oscar Brooks, entry 4. Apologies~

I stuck to myself for a few days. Xialla didn’t leave her room. Mom had to go down there and convince her/drag her out to get her to go to school. She didn’t come to me or call for me through her mental link thing if they were messing with her, although that only happened the one time. I was popular, so no one told me anything. I just felt like a POS. 

But it wasn’t until one day, when my guilt had reached an all-time high that Whiskers decided to be a big pest. Ankle scratching, shoelace-biting, yowling at me CONSTANTLY...she even knocked my tea off the table. 

“ALRIGHT, what is up with you cat?”

“MREOW!” Whiskers slapped my wrist, then started pushing me with her head.

“Yeah I get it I screwed up.”

*push* *pushpushpushpushpushpush*

“What? Fine, I’ll get up.”

Then she was batting and shoving at my ankles, so I humored the cat, and she pushed me towards the basement stairs. “Uh no...she won’t talk to me Whiskers. I screwed up BAD.”

* pushpushpushpushpushpush*

“I can go try to talk to her?”

“MEOWMEOWMEOWMEOW YOWL”

“Alright then.” So I went down, and knocked on her door. 

“Yeah?” Guilt churned at my stomach. She sounded like she’d been crying. 

“It’s Oscar. Can I come in?” 

No response, then she came and opened the door. Sure enough, her eyes were red. 

“What do you want?” 

“To say I’m sorry. To say I was a big jerk, and I shouldn’t have taken my bad mood out on you. It was inexcusable. Can you forgive me?”

She waited a moment, then nodded, but she was still crying. She sat down on her bed to continue her homework, so I joined her. 

“Anything I can help with?” I pulled my work out too. 

“This problem in Algebra, and why the kids at school make fun of me for talking.”

“They still bothering you?” 

“No!” She said it too quickly, I knew it was a lie, but I let it slide for now. “I can just hear them, giggling about it behind my back. Do you know why?”

I began to help her with the problem, my heart breaking even as my frustrations with my father grew. Why didn’t he TELL her already!? “Um, well...you talk to yourself when you are doing your homework and stuff Xi, you know?”

“Yeah, but everyone does that!” 

“Not...in a different language Xi.” My heart broke to tell her, and to see the utter confusion in her eyes. My suspicions were met. She really didn’t know. 

“What do you mean another language? I’m speaking simlish!...Aren’t I?”

“No Xi, you’re not.”

Confused tears slid down her face. “So what am I speaking?”

I couldn’t tell her. I am not even sure. But it wasn’t my place to tell her what she was. That was Dad’s.

“Xi...I don’t really know. But how you reached out to me that day with the bullies and the dumpster...you need to talk to Dad about this.”

“Dad?” She stared at me. “I think I will. I need to know...whatever it is.”

I gave her a sideways hug. “Yeah. But anyways, math?”

I hope Dad will actually tell her. She deserves to know the truth.

[keelywolfe]

FIC: A Pressing Engagement ch1 (Not baon AU)

Summary: Labeling things can be difficult, for everyone involved

Notes: Oh, I don't know, this sort of popped into my brain today and sometimes, I like to see the maybes and might haves.

Tags:  Spicyhoney, Fluff and Angst, Dating, Developing Relationship, Humor

~~*~~

Read it on AO3

or

Read it here!

~~*~~

It wasn’t a date, really. More like a standing lunch appointment where they met up wherever the local food trucks were congregating that day. Edge was a fussy bitch when it came to food, but what kind of monster (heh) would turn down fresh seafood po’ boys with truffle Parmesan fries? Not one that Stretch wanted to hang out with, for sure.

The trucks were always busy, Humans and Monsters lining up for tasty treats. Using Edge’s strategy of divide and conquer, they queued in separate lines, gathering up a collection of paper trays lined with greasy waxed paper and holding heavenly balls of deep-fried goodness, along with the less heavenly but still delicious vegan junk that Edge always wanted, under the theory that unhealthy plus good for you would sort of cancel each other out into balanced nutrition.

Look, if it got him food, Stretch was willing to bend science a little.

The park was crowded, any tables were already claimed, if not by people than by their possessions. By the time Stretch was juggling their po’ boys and fries, Edge was through the vegan line and sitting under a tree in the grass, their Buddha bowls and moussaka artfully arranged around him. The pastoral serenity of the scene contrasted in interesting ways to the leather-clad skeleton in the middle of it all and if Stretch didn’t know that Edge would object, loudly and strenuously, he would’ve taken a picture. Called it modern art, skeleton on a theme of lunch.

“hope you grabbed napkins,” Stretch said cheerfully, plopping down in the grass to lay out his own spread.

“I did not. I brought my own,” Edge said, because of course he did, every week. Linen napkins that they both spread over their laps as they shared out the goods and dug in. Strange how growing up in murder world made a guy into a terminal recycler, but Edge was a guy who understood living under strict limitations.

The first bite of his po’ boy made Stretch groan aloud, greedily chewing fried blobs of briny shrimp and oysters couched in a bed of crisp lettuce and tomato. Waterfall aside, there wasn’t much seafood in the Underground and Stretch got a serious appreciation for it once they hit the Aboveground. Edge liked surfing on the ocean more than eating what was swimming in it and even he was eating appreciatively.

It was all good, tasty food, sunny day, perfectly awesome even if it wasn’t actually a date, and if it ended with them heading back to one of their places for some rough and rowdy bootknockin’, eh, well, that was kinda how Stretch liked it. They didn’t need it to be an official date, seriously, that was for people who just started going out, not for guys who’d been together for a few years. Once you’d shared a toothbrush, you didn’t need that kind of shit, right, and Stretch was pretty sure Edge’d forgiven him for that, he’d only done it the once and only because he couldn’t get the taste of garlic off his teeth. That was the last time he tried aioli on their not-dates.

Dessert was rice pudding with fresh mango and around a spoonful of creamy deliciousness Stretch mumbled out, “so, how about undyne and alphys finally tying the knot, huh?”

“Ridiculous,” Edge scoffed.

“right? i always figured them for getting married two weeks after their first date, took ‘em long enough—” Stretch trailed off as Edge scoffed again, louder and with some dangerous spoon waving to go with it.

“Marriage is a ridiculous institution,” Edge said irritably. “If you need to be married in order to feel as though you’re committed to one another, then the relationship is already doomed to failure. But then, most supposedly committed relationships are.” He took a fierce bite of his pudding, teeth closing dangerously around the poor, abused spoon. “That’s why I prefer what we have. No ties, no strings, you live in your apartment and I share my house with my brother. It works for both of us and we don’t need any absurd social constructs to determine what we are for each other.”

It took a minute for Stretch to realize Edge was looking at him expectantly, “yeah,” he said belatedly, rolling his shoulders laconically before leaning against the rough trunk of the tree shading them, “yeah, no strings, no ties, free as birds, tweet tweet.”

That earned him a chuckle, “Tweet tweet?”

“you prefer caw caw?” Stretch teased and his voice was normal, easy. Good. “grackle? i’d give you a kookaburra cackle but last time i tried it i couldn’t talk for two days.”

“Better not,” Edge’s voice was anything but normal, low and smoky, inviting the sorts of things that usually stirred up plenty of different emotions in Stretch’s rib cage, all the way down to his pelvis, and wasn’t it a damn shame his soul was all full up right now. Edge went on, as thick and sweet as the honey Stretch tended to crave. “you’ll want to save your voice for something better.”

“yeah, about that,” Stretch poked at his empty pudding cup, his spoon rattling, “actually, i think i’m gonna head home.”

Edge frowned. Rightfully so, Stretch didn’t usually turn down sex, it was a better dessert than any at the trucks, even the lava chocolate cakes that always sold out. “Are you all right?”

“just a little tired,” Stretch shrugged. “think i’ll turn in early.” He didn’t mention low HP and neither did Edge, who only nodded.

“Then let me drop you off,” Edge started gathering up their trash, separating it out and bagging it up to dump in his home recycling. “You’ll be on the bus for an hour.”

There wasn’t a good reason for Stretch to refuse, so he didn’t. He sat on the passenger side and closed his sockets, let the motion of the car and the shitty crooner music that Edge listened to lull him into a near-sleep. The ride was too short for him to zonk out entirely, but he was still drowsy when Edge nudged him, let him steal a brief, easy kiss before he slid out the door into the parking lot of his apartment building.

Stretch waved as Edge drove away, then bypassed the front door entirely and instead took a shortcut upstairs. Not inside his apartment, but to the fire escape that everyone in the building used instead as a sort of rattling balcony. There was a ratty deckchair in the corner, shoved in tight to keep from impeding the steps, and that was where Stretch sat as he dug out his cigarettes.

He was halfway through the first, basking in the nicotine rush, when he heard the window opening above him then boots on metal steps. He sank deeper into the creaky chair, bracing himself.

“Papy!” Blue called happily as he descended the stairs. His apartment was directly above Stretch’s, their version of a compromise when Stretch gently told his bro that he wanted his own place. The Fell brothers could live together if they wanted and did, and Stretch didn’t judge them for it. But Stretch had let his life revolve around his brother for a long damn time and once they were on the surface, facing the sunshine and an entire change of life, Stretch decided he wanted that change to go a little further and told Blue with as much blunt kindness as he could that he wanted his own place.

Blue got over it and in Stretch’s opinion, their relationship was better for having a little necessary space. Now his little bro leaned over the last metal rail, his starry eye lights bright as he beamed at Stretch and asked, "Well? How did it go??”

Stretch looked away, blowing out a long stream of silent smoke.

That eagerness softened, wilted. “Ah. It went like that.”

“yeah,” Stretch stubbed out his cigarette into the overflowing ashtray tucked underneath his chair, lit another. “guess it’s a good thing i dipped a toe into the river first, bringing up undyne and al’s wedding. didn’t know it was the rubicon i was trying to cross.”

Better than bringing out that little velvet box still tucked away in his hoodie pocket, it seemed. Not like he’d been planning a big production or anything, fuck no, Edge would’ve hated that, already hated it when Humans gave them side-eyes and stares. Nah, the plan was to bring it up casual-like over dessert and now he was pretty fucking glad he hadn’t. The ache in his chest was one he’d get over, give him a few days and a few smokes and he’d be right as rain, left as lightning, all that shit. Having to deal with that hurt on top of Edge turning him down, (rudely, coldly, highly possible, gently, awkwardly, so much worse) wasn’t something he wanted to give a try.

Blue came down the rest of the stairs at a more sedate pace, wrapping both arms around Stretch into a painfully tight hug, “I’m so sorry, brother.”

“eh, probably just as well,” Stretch tossed his second butt into the ashtray and resisted the urge to light another. He’d smoke his way through the pack once Blue went back upstairs, no reason for both of them to be miserable. “he’s working his way up at the embassy, he doesn’t need a lazy shit like me holding him back.”

He could feel Blue struggling not to argue and damn well appreciated it. He wanted to bask in his pain for right now, fucking savor it, his own soul served up as another casualty of the food trucks. Save the rah rah cheerleading for when he was more equipped to hear it.

“guess i better find out if the jewelry shop take returns or something,” Stretch sighed, “having a wedding ring laying around the house feels a lot like having a loaded gun, you don’t want anyone to find it unexpectedly.”

He fumbled for the little box, absently thinking of what would be a good day to head in to the shop, he was pretty sure he still had the receipt and—

In his hoodie pocket was his lighter, his smokes, a little baggie of dog treats, a handful of change since Stretch was physically incapable of walking past a vending machine, something his collection of small toys and weird condoms would attest to. No black velvet box that would never be opened in offering, showing off a simple pair of bands that he’d spent an hour agonizing over with an exceptionally patient salesperson, cause hell, they’d been not-dating for years now, maybe it was time to toss a label on all this. Except it wasn’t and neither was that little box.

“it’s not here.” No box. No rings, what the fuck. Horrified realization hit with the force of a two-ton slap. “it must’ve fallen out!”

“Oh, dear,” Blue tutted, “if it was at the park, someone likely took it.”

“i’d rather they did than him find it! edge gave me a ride home!” Stretch hissed. Panic was tight in his chest, fuck, fuck, “what if it’s in his car? i gotta get it back, i gotta!"

"Brother, calm down,” Blue tried, unconvincingly, “it might not even be in his car.”

“i have to check!” Stretch moaned. He couldn’t let Edge find it first, fuck, somehow he’d stepped out of the path of a speeding car straight into an oncoming semi-truck. “i can't let him find it! fuck!” He latched onto his brother’s shoulders, clutching desperately, “bro, you gotta help me!”

Blue still looked pretty doubtful but this was his brother, his little bro, and for years it’d only been the two of them there for each other, years and tears and love, was there anything they wouldn’t do for each other, even participate in an impromptu jewelry heist?

So it wasn’t a surprise when Blue nodded, finally, sighing out, “All right, brother, what did you have in mind?”

~~*~~

Read Chapter 2

[azozzoni]

Are you taking requests? If so, I am dying to read Sander/Robbe childhood friends AU. Your writing is so good!

This is hard to fit into a short prompt, but I tried.

*

Sander is Robbe’s first kiss.

Sander is five and Robbe just turned four, hiding under the slide on the playground, away from the screeches of the other children, huddled under the cool shade. That’s when Sander kisses him, laughs before he runs away.

Robbe doesn’t remember this—it’s what his mom likes to tell him when he’s older, that he came home and announced that he was in love with Sander and was going to marry him someday.

Sander gets his first girlfriend when he’s fourteen and he tells Robbe all about it as they sit in Robbe’s room, rain drizzling down the window pane. He tells Robbe about what it’s like to kiss Lucie, how soft her hair is, the things her smile does to his chest.

Robbe tries to understand but he doesn’t.

Instead, he listens to Sander and wonders at the stirring in his own chest, annoyance and jealousy that shouldn’t be there. Jealousy over a girl he doesn’t even know.

Robbe is fifteen when he gets his first kiss, his first real kiss. It’s a girl from his class, one with dark hair and smooth skin, and she backs him into a corner at a party. Her lips are soft and she smells like violets, but Robbe doesn’t feel anything. No stirring in his chest, no nervous butterflies that he knows should be there.

They date for a couple months, mostly swapping spit and showing up to parties together until Robbe makes up an excuse about not having enough time for a girlfriend.

Sander comes over with a bottle of vodka when he hears and they drink the whole thing, until they’re stumbling and drunk, laughing about nothing as they lean against each other on Robbe’s bed. When Robbe runs his fingers through Sander’s hair, Sander merely sighs and lets his head fall in Robbe’s shoulder.

“There are lots of girls out there,” he mumbles, eyes big and hazy as he stares up at Robbe. Robbe doesn’t care about the girls and he stops himself from tracing Sander’s jawline.

At sixteen, Sander gets diagnosed, runs out on a party and Robbe finds him huddled behind a parked car, shaking and scratching at his skin like he just wants to crawl out of it. Even though Robbe doesn’t know what to do, he doesn’t leave Sander’s side until Sander’s mom forces him to leave the hospital, to go home and get some rest.

Robbe feels like his heart is going to explode every minute he’s not there to help.

They’re seventeen when Robbe finally gets it.

Leaning against a wall, Robbe frowns at the drink in his hand. It’s not strong enough, not strong enough to distract him from his thoughts as he watches the couples making out on the couch, against the wall, stumbling up the stairs.

He doesn’t know where Sander is, but Jens is there, talking about Jana and how he wishes they hadn’t broken up. Even though it’s been two years since they were together, even though Jana cheated on him. Jens is drunk, Robbe decides as Jens leans against him, elbow heavy on his shoulder, breath hot in his ear, and Robbe casts a glance around the room instead.

Everyone seems so happy, drunk and pawing at each other like horny teenagers. There are a couple guys Robbe doesn’t know, even one that returns his gaze from across the room, just a second of recognition between them. But Robbe looks away, back to Jens. He’s not going to hook up with a stranger at a party with his friends all around.

“Have you seen Sander?” he asks Jens because he’d rather not think about the guy still watching him, as if he knows his secret.

“Last I saw, he was going to find the bathroom,” Jens says, distracted by Jana across the room.

It’s a big house, and Robbe sighs as Jens leaves him for Jana, unsteady on his feet as he crosses the room and leaves Robbe by the wall.

Ignoring the guy watching him, Robbe turns and heads upstairs to where he knows one of the bathrooms is. He doesn’t know why he’s looking for Sander--he’s probably making out with some girl in a guest room somewhere, and Robbe doesn’t need to see that.

Upstairs is a little quieter than downstairs, and Robbe finds the bathroom, knocking softly. There’s no response and he twists the knob though he doesn’t expect to find anything there.

The door swings open and it’s a sharp pain that stabs Robbe’s heart as his eyes take in the scene--Sander with a guy, Sander with a guy crowded up against the sink, kissing him.

It’s like all the air leaves Robbe’s lungs and he can’t do anything but stare as Sander jerks back from the guy, surprised, and maybe there’s a tinge of red along his cheeks as he opens his mouth to explain maybe or ask what the hell Robbe is doing there.

“Sorry,” Robbe says, rushed, panic gripping him as he meets Sander’s eyes. He wants to say more, to ask why Sander never told him, why he had to find out this way. But his stomach is twisting into knots, angry and jealous and hurt as the other guy arches an eyebrow as if Robbe is interrupting something important. “Sorry,” he says again instead, muttering the word as he turns on his heel and leaves despite Sander calling his name.

Robbe doesn’t remember leaving the party, shoving past people, spilling something on his shirt as he bumps into someone. But he gets out the door, around a corner in the garden before he collapses on a ledge, clutching at his throat as he tries to breathe.

It hits him like a bus, the image of Sander kissing that guy. Digging his knuckles into his eyes, he forces out a breath. It’s always been easy to convince himself that there was nothing between him and Sander besides friendship. Sander likes girls. He’s always liked girls. It doesn’t matter that Robbe has known since he was fourteen that he doesn’t. It doesn’t matter that Robbe never told Sander or Jens or any of his friends.

He can still hear the sounds of the party, the bass rattling the ground, but he can’t go back. He doesn’t want to go back.

“There you are.”

Sander’s voice makes Robbe’s head snap up, white spots in his vision as he blinks quickly. His heart is still pounding, but he can breathe again, maybe can pretend everything’s fine as Sander sits down next to him.

Sander doesn’t speak for a minute, pulling a leaf off a bush and tearing it into tiny pieces.

“Are you mad at me?”

Robbe doesn’t even know what to say. Is he mad? Yes. He’s angry that Sander never told him he thought about kissing guys. He’s also mad he never told Sander he thought the same, maybe missed his chance.

They’ve been friends practically their entire life, gone through everything together. Robbe was there when Sander was diagnosed, and Sander was there when his dad walked out on them. But there are still secrets between them.

“No,” he says finally, forcing the word out, wishing his face didn’t feel so hot. He also wishes Sander wasn’t sitting so close, close enough that their knees are touching and he can feel the brush of Sander’s shoulder as he leans around to see his face.

“Yeah?” he asks, that same puppy-dog look on his face, as though worried about Robbe’s reaction.

“You kissed a guy,” Robbe says, biting down the jealousy bubbling up. “Are you gay?”

“No,” Sander says easily, which just makes Robbe angrier. “I mean, I don’t know. I still like girls too.”

That doesn’t make it better.

But Robbe doesn’t have a leg to stand on. He can’t accuse Sander of keeping secrets when he’s been keeping an even bigger one.

“That’s okay, right?” Sander asks finally when Robbe hasn’t said anything for a minute. It’s the look in Sander’s eyes when he finally looks over that melts the anger he’s holding onto, the worry that Robbe hates him now, thinks it’s wrong somehow. It’s the same worry Robbe always feels every time he thinks about coming out, just telling the guys he’s gay. It’s what holds him back every time.

“Yeah,” Robbe says because there is no other answer.

He feels more than sees Sander’s sigh of relief beside him.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner,” he says, biting the inside of his cheek as he watches Robbe. “I just didn’t know how to.”

Robbe knows exactly what he means, knows that tightening in his chest whenever he’s gotten close to admitting his feelings.

“Have you hooked up with a lot of guys?” he asks even though he’s not sure he wants to know the answer.

Sander looks over, pulling another leaf off the bush and turning it over in his fingers. “Not really,” he admits. “I don’t think I’ve found the right one yet.”

Frowning, Robbe doesn’t reply. Now is his chance to do it, to tell Sander the secret that’s been weighing on him for years. What will it change, though? Nothing between them. And isn’t that what Robbe wants?

“Sander,” he says after a second, and Sander lifts his head, watching him intently. “There’s something I haven’t told you either.”

Sander doesn’t reply, just waits for Robbe to say it. The leaf in his hand flutters to the ground where it sticks to the damp pavement.

There’s a lump in his throat as Robbe stares at his feet instead of meeting Sander’s gaze. He digs his fingernails into his palm, forcing the words out this time.

“I’m gay.”

The silence is broken only by the muffled music from the party in the house behind them. Robbe doesn’t dare look up. He should feel relieved that he’s finally told someone, but it’s Sander, the guy he just caught kissing some dude in a bathroom, the guy he’s shared a bed with too many times to count, seen completely broken down in a hospital bed, the guy who has seen Robbe fall apart and helped him deal with his mother when Robbe just couldn’t handle it. It’s Sander, the guy he’s thought about kissing too many times to be acceptable.

Of all the reactions he expects from Sander, the one he doesn’t is Sander’s hand on his jaw, turning his face, Sander’s face too close to his, eyes dark in the shadows, his lips parted as he leans in and kisses Robbe.

Robbe should pull away, demand an explanation, but he doesn’t want to. He wants to melt into Sander, to give into the heat in his chest, the way his heartbeat is pounding against his ribcage as he feels Sander’s tongue sliding over his bottom lip.

“Wait,” he hears himself saying, getting his hands in between them for a second. “What are you doing?”

He can’t just enjoy things. No, Robbe always needs the explanation, the reason why. He can’t just accept that he’s finally getting what he wants, what he’s wanted for years.

“Kissing you,” Sander says with that playful tilt to his head, but at Robbe’s serious expression, he sighs. His fingers are still on Robbe’s face, and Robbe forces himself not to get lost in the feeling of Sander’s fingers stroking down his cheeks. “When I said I hadn’t found the right one, that was a lie.”

“You mean…” Robbe says, glancing up to Sander’s eyes. He can’t allow himself to hope quite that much. After all, they’ve been friends for years, friends who have done every stupid thing together.

Sander swallows, pressing his forehead to Robbe’s and closing his eyes. “Remember when you broke up with Fenna and we drank that whole bottle of vodka?”

“Mmm,” Robbe hums in agreement, watching Sander’s face, so close to his.

Sander opens his eyes slowly, thumbs brushing over Robbe’s jaw. “I wanted to kiss you that night, but I thought I was just drunk. I thought if I did it then, you’d think I was drunk. Then, I don’t know, the opportunity never came back up. I couldn’t figure out how to tell you I was into guys, or well, you.”

Robbe can’t really blame him, unable to stop his smile as he watches Sander. He hadn’t told Sander either, kept his feelings to himself all these years.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you either.”

“That you’re gay?” Sander asks, pulling back an inch. “Or that you’re into me too?”

Robbe doesn’t know how Sander knows. Maybe it’s been obvious. It isn’t as though he’s dated anyone since Fenna, maybe frowned a bit too much around Sander’s girlfriends. Or maybe Sander is just full of shit as he grins at Robbe.

“Both,” Robbe says after a minute, the word rushing from his lips, like he has to get it out now before he bites it back. “Is this going to ruin our friendship?” he asks as Sander leans back in, lips brushing against his. Robbe sucks in a breath, goosebumps erupting on his skin.

“Probably,” Sander replies, but Robbe doesn’t think Sander cares when he kisses him. And, he thinks as he wraps his arms around Sander’s neck, he doesn’t really care either.

[deannesen]

Storm Before The Calm

This love between us gives me power. Po-wer, po-wer, po-wer!

The muted song played on a tiny screen hidden under a desk. Sakura's fingers hit the buttons on her Versa handheld in a rapid fire. Her instincts matched every button to every beat. She could her the chime of each synchronized note in her head. Meanwhile, her ears pricked up on the words Ms Limon spouted out.

"That's the end of this chapter, The Fourth Spirit Burst. That will be all today. Remember to take care as you head home."

Sakura hit the last note, relieved another school day was over. Her body was wrecked with boredom and fatigue. She watched her classmates flow out of the classroom as she stuffed her Versa between the books in her schoolbag. Their chatter was white noise to her ears. She paid no attention to it. She only heard her own thoughts running down a list of what to do once she got home. New episodes of game shows, another comic update, and a whole new area to explore in her favourite RPG. Her best friend Angie stretched beside her.

"All the notes I had to take for you," she whined. "You owe me, Sakura."

"No way, it's totally fair."

Her fingers dog-eared a page out of the manga resting on her lap before slipping it back into her bag. She zipped it closed and sat back with Angie. "You were gone last week and I had to take your notes. It was awful."

"I was sick that time!"

Angie's cheeks flamed. Her exaggerated pout and furrowed eyebrows made her laugh. It reminded her of a furious chipmunk.

"I remember. I'm sure your flu made it hard to play Dancing Rave 6000."

The tiny girl opened her mouth to defend, but it closed back in defeat. Sakura knew her too well. She held back a snort and Angie hit her shoulder.

"Biiiiitch."

"Dumbass."

They laughed in unison. Sakura then helped her pack up so they could go back together. Cramming books into Angie's tiny pink satchel was a two person task. Angie arranged her books and papers neatly against each other. She waved a stack of notes in front of her face before slipping it into the bag.

"Look, Ms Limon went on and on about this unit. You'd think it happened to her yesterday with all things she said."

Sakura thought about it, resting her head on her arm. Her gaze lingered on the view outside the window. Dark clouds clumped in the sky. A rumble threatened her ears. It hadn't rained for weeks, and now it seemed a storm would come. The spirits were undoubtedly in tune with them. Her skin prickled with cold.

"You know what they say, spirit bursts are like rainy days. We might as well prepare for when it will happen again," she mused. "Still...it could be days or centuries for the next one. We just have to wait and see."

Angie blew a raspberry. She leaned back in her chair and crossed her arms. Her eyes stared at the ceiling. "I know that. I won't lie, I think it would be kind of cool to have something shake things up. I'm tired of the same old, day in, day out," she chuckled bitterly. "With our luck, it'll happen once we're old and wrinkly."

"Yeah, I get it," she mused quietly. "Still, we probably shouldn't wish for things we don't really know about."

"Are you kidding? With all the studying we've done, I think we can qualify as spirits."

They shared a giggle at that. Then came the unmistakable sound of hard objects hitting the roof above them. First it was one clunk after another, but it soon devolved into a flurry. A commotion erupted outside.  Angie shot her a frazzled look. Sakura snapped her gaze back to the window. It was raining white.

They grabbed their bags and rushed outside. A stream of students flowed to see what was going on. Sakura saw Yukika's white bob of hair right at the edge of a pillar. She was still, with her hand out to inspect the falling specks. They elbowed their way around and made it to her.

"What the frick-a-dick is happening?" asked Angie. Yukika held her hand out to them. Small icy orbs nestled in her palm.

"Hail."

"Damn," said Sakura. She leaned forward to take a closer look. They were big for such an unexpected onslaught. She poked one of them and her skin hissed at the near-frostbite. She swept them off Yukika’s hand to let them fall to the ground. "Who would have thought. How are we gonna get home?"

Yukika took out an umbrella that was in her bag's pocket. She opened it up and it fluttered open to barely cover one head. She held the umbrella out to check. The hail bounced off upon contact. They looked at her blankly.

"I'll call my dad," said Angie. "Hopefully he pick us up soon."

"Good idea."

They went down the stairs. The sea of students made it hard to keep their balance while moving around. Angie and Sakura managed to squeeze through tiny spaces, however Yukika had a harder time slipping through. The good thing was that she could shove people away very easily. Sakura heard speculations and whispers of why a hailstorm was happening in the middle of April. The anxiety was making it harder to keep steady. She nearly slipped a few times on melted hail that people dropped.

She didn't have the faintest idea. Angie would have said it was a perfectly scientific reason, but the energy in the air told her otherwise. It might have been unstable winter spirits lurking in springtime. Or perhaps cloud spirits holding onto the cold. Why, she couldn't guess.

They managed to make it to the back gate with only dirty stares in return. Sakura leaned against the wall. Her heartbeat thrummed along with the hail. It sounded as if it had slowed after the initial flurry. The hail falling was now smaller than what Yukika showed them. Hopefully it meant that the journey home wouldn't be as much of a spectacle.

Angie tapped away at her phone. She held it up to her ear.

"Hey dad. Can you pick us up? Yeah, it just started raining hail - I know right? Wait, Mr Oman said what? That's so typical of him-"

Sakura tuned Angie out as she started to gossip with her dad. The anxiety in the air made her heart clench. She closed her eyes, leaning against the wall. Thump, thump thump, thump. Yukika put her hand on her shoulder. It was cool to the touch.

"Are you okay?" she whispered.

"Yeah," replied Sakura.  A breeze blew past her ear. She caught a whisper of fear. Her forehead warmed up. A malicious smile glinted in her mind. She steeled herself and opened her eyes. Yukika looked troubled. Angie walked towards them, slipping her phone in her pocket.

"He should be here soon. Sound good?"

She nodded. They sat down at a bench to wait, watching the hail slowly cease falling. Sakura did her mathematics homework in the meantime, letting numbers blur her thoughts. Graphite clashed on the thin sheets. She never liked the defined numbers and answers laid out for her. It was so stiffening, so rigid. Her brain was boxed in with the formulas circling inside. The numbers dancing on the paper nearly lulled to her sleep with the cold gale.

What's the total surface area of the dome? Perimeter x height x slant height... wait, no.. dome... circular.... sphere... dome.. not pyramid... dome.... dome...

In a sleepy haze, the equations floated around her consciousness. Her pencil lined down the page again and again, barely keeping her awake. She was only on question number three. She couldn't sleep yet.

Hmm, dome, dome...

Don't.

Dome.....

Don't. Don't.

DON'T GIVE IN. THEY'RE COMING.

"Sakura."

A hand clamped down onto her shoulder. She jolted back awake. Yukika was looking at her. She was standing up with her schoolbag hanging off her elbow. There was an ambiguous look in her eyes. Her foggy mind could hardly register her.

"Come on, let's go home."

She stood up, rubbing her eyes. A yawn stretched her mouth. She rubbed her eyes again. How long had it been? Angie was nowhere to be seen. She looked up at the grey sky. There was no more hail falling, but the cold air was biting her skin.

"I'll take your bag, you're still tired," Yukika decided. She shook her head, but Yukika was already walking ahead of her to the gate. She sighed and followed.

The door of the car awaiting them was wide open. A blast of warm air greeted her as she saddled up next to Angie, who was already preoccupied with texting her virtual boyfriend. Yukika closed the car door and the car lurched off. Her dad smiled at them in the rear view mirror. He passed a lot of his traits onto his daughter, skinny with an oval face and slant eyes.

"Thanks for picking us up, Dad," said Angie without looking up from her phone.

"No problem kiddos," he said. "Scary that a hailstorm happened out of nowhere, are you all alright?"

They all nodded. She leaned back in her seat. It was weird being in the middle, strapping on the seat belt. Yukika looked outside the window. Angie leaned on her shoulder. She looked down at her feet. Her ears picked up on interesting words bouncing off the radio.

Reports say that an increase of spirit disturbances have occurred nationwide. Citizens are advised to check the spirit forecasts and leave weekly offerings to their local shrines. The Spiritual Union of the Nation -

Angie's dad changed the station a few times and settled on one playing a mindless pop song. The words slurred together after she figured it wasn't one she liked. She took out her Versa. She tapped at a notification that popped up.

DEFCON ZERO

The page was a black screen with her sign-in details in pale green text. A slashed white eye stood as a logo above it. She tapped to sign in.

User : TinyThunder / Server : 03 - Creation

When your body is at your weakest, your spirit burns brightest.

Enter combat?

Stage 125. Recommended level : 70. Your level : 55. Proceed?

She looked at her setup of low leveled units. The map was a rough terrain with a gigantic boss. She could make it. Determination pulsed through her fingertips.

Yes.

Hlíf, the unit on the first defense line nearly died at the opening boss strike. She stood her ground, knowing the opening move was greater than its following attacks. The damage gave her enough power to unleash her ultimate move early on.

Unstoppable Shield!

She charged forward, knocking enemies down with her infallible shield. Her remaining strength was focused into running as far as she could. She coughed up blood onto her armor. In her final sprint, she crashed into the boss giant and fired her gun five times. An ally plane picked up her body before she fell.

The second defense line rose to tank the next hits. Blood Moon stood by as a medic, streaming enchanted blood to heal each wound. A mage team descended, breaking down the enemy defenses bit by bit.

Defenders blocked the line. Nimble melee soldiers dodged blows, swinging their weapons despite gashes where their defenses failed. The enemies fired heavy ammunition and cut with mighty swords. In their bloody fight, the defenses were close to falling. Seeing the opportunity, Rasputin rose his hands to the sky and unleashed his powers. Seeing the signal, a firework of skills illuminated the battlefield.

Death Dance.

Rasputin levitated above the ground. Icicles fired from his hands and planted themselves into the heart of the giant. It roared in pain. Every mage in his range felt their powers heighten. They directed their magic towards melting the remaining advancers. One by one, fighters fell, but not without taking several enemies with them. Rasputin encased the enemy in ice and delivered a final blow. It exploded, and he fell to the ground, surrounded by the dead army. The mages ended their assault, breathing heavily.

VICTORY.

She sighed in relief. Her muscles relaxed from being tightened with anxiety. The car was slowing down.

"Hell yeah."

"Nice work," said Angie. She gave her a teasing grin and punched her shoulder. "Wish I had Rasputin. You're lucky."

"Wasn't easy with you staring over my shoulder," she shrugged. The car stopped. She looked out and saw her familiar driveway with her mother's car gone. "Great timing."

Yukika opened the door and got out. The evening air was warm and inviting. Sakura breathed it all in.  She stepped out of the car and waved to Angie's dad. Angie shut the door and waved as well.

"Thanks for the ride, Mr. Allende."

"You're welcome. Take care."

They drove off. Sakura watched the car disappear from the lane, the silver polish glinting in the waning sun. It was nice to have a different ride back home. She turned and saw Yukika staring at her phone. There was a frown on her face.

"Akira messaged me to come home."

She cocked her head to the side curiously.

"Will you be staying the night?"

Yukika tucked her phone into her pocket. She smiled to her. It was unnatural to see Yukika smile with that grimace still in her eyes.

"There's nothing she can do to stop me," she said, steel in her voice.

She believed Yukika's words. She didn't want to ask any more about it. There was always bitterness in her when her mother was involved. She held out her hand to take her schoolbag. Yukika gave it to her, but didn't give her own bag. She walked away, her back straight.

Sakura opened and closed the gate behind her. She arranged her shoes on the shoe rack before jiggling the doorknob and finding it unlocked. The door was opened.

She looked up and sighed as she saw their old babysitter, Cleeve, standing as tall as ever. She smiled down at her. Her warm green eyes were comforting to see. She ushered her in. Everything in the house was spick and span. Even her comfy cushions were angled against the couch. A delicious aroma of cauliflower rice wafted from the kitchen. Her stomach rumbled.

"Sounds like you're hungry. Want an early dinner?" Cleeve offered.

"Don't have to tell me twice," Sakura said, rushing into the kitchen. Her socks almost made her slip on the tile floor. Cleeve caught her in her muscly arms and she chuckled sheepishly. Cleeve had bulked up since the last time they saw each other. "Oh, um, also, what are you doing here?"

Cleeve set the table. She placed down the nicest plates in the house and the shiniest forks and spoons. Sakura pulled out a chair. By the time she sat down, Cleeve had already spooned a hefty serving onto her plate.

"Your mother heard about what happened, so she called me to make sure you guys were okay."

She put down a cold glass of lemonade before sitting down opposite her. She had a small plate of rice and a glass of water. Sakura dug into the food, chewing quickly to speak again. Spices and tastes in her mouth danced as well as she remembered. Cleeve shook her head in amusement.

"She worries too much. News travels fast, huh?"

"That's a mother's job. But where's Yuki?"

"Her dearest mummykins called." Her spoon pointed next door. She forked another bite into her mouth. The rice was rapidly disappearing from her plate.  Cleeve nodded in understanding. She wolfed down the rest of the plate while and washed it down with the lemonade. Cleeve nibbled down at her serving, seemingly thinking of something. "Great as always, Cleeve."

She slid back her chair. Her dishes were loaded into the dishwasher. She grabbed the remote and turned on the TV.  She flicked the channels. There was a new show to catch, Replica. She heard the critics were raving about the young actress Reese Choi. She huffed. Talent was never equally distributed, it seems. She pressed 'record' so she wouldn't miss it.

Sakura rushed up to her bedroom. She shut her door with a satisfying thump. She took off her vest, tie and socks. Her bag was flung to the side. The light  from her window was quickly fading away. She jumped onto her bed. The fluffy mattress embraced her tired body. A bout of sleepiness overcame her. It had been a tiring day. She could afford a nap.

[losersclubbitches]

Panic Attack

@billiesbatsons, here you go!

It was three years ago. He should have been over it by now. He should have been over it by now. He was fifteen. He was fifteen. He was fifteen for goodness sakes and he couldn’t let go of what had happened three years ago.

***

“Come on, you guys! We’re gonna be late!” Rosa called up the stairs.

“I don’t see how we can be late to the mall,” Freddy remarked as he made his way down the stairs. “I mean, it’s a mall.”

“Freddy, mi amor, we’ve been over this. It takes all day for us to shop in the mall. I’m just planning ahead,” Rosa explained as her middle son pulled on his jacket and coat.

“Right. We’re slow and they’ll kick us out of the mall and we’ll never have new clothes. Got it,” Freddy commented, tugging on his shoes. Rosa just chuckled and rolled her eyes fondly. Eventually, the whole family was in the van and heading to the mall. Once they arrived, they headed straight to a clothing store and looked around.

“Hey, Billy. What about this?” Freddy suggested, holding up a SHAZAM! shirt. Billy snorted and then regained his composure.

“That’s more your style,” he replied. “I’d prefer this.” He picked a random shirt from the rack next to him.

“My Little Pony?” Freddy teased, snorting out a laugh. He doubled over and Billy had to laugh with him.

“Nice shirt. Very you, Billy,” Mary remarked as she passed. All three laughed again.

“But seriously, you think I should get this or is it too self-advertising?” Freddy asked when their laughter subsided.

“I think you should get it if you want it. It’d look good on you,” Billy replied. “And no one knows we’re them, so why not?” He shrugged and Freddy beamed, putting the shirt in his “try on” basket. He went to find a dressing room and Billy looked through some shirts he would actually wear. He found some flannels: red, blue, and black, and some matching shirts to go under them. He also grabbed some new jeans as his were getting a bit worn out. He found sizes that he knew would fit and put them in the family's "buy" basket.

“You’re not gonna try those on first, Billy?” Rosa asked, walking over.

“They should fit,” Billy told her.

"Why don’t you try them on just to be sure,” Rosa suggested. Billy nodded and made his way to the dressing rooms. The attendant gave Billy a number and led him to an open room. Billy took a deep breath and walked into the dressing room, nudging the door closed behind him. He hung up the clothes he was going to try on and started to pull his own shirt over his head.

I’m gonna get you for that Billy Batson. Just you wait.

Billy startled and ripped his shirt off, tossing it onto the ground. Upon looking in the mirror, he only saw himself. And the scars. All of the scars from mistreatment. Sure, he’d run from 23 homes, but he’d been kicked out of or moved from countless others. He pulled on one of the shirts quickly and then the matching outer shirt and started to pull on the jeans. Something in the mirror caught his eye and he looked at his reflection again. This time, he did see someone else. A face he thought he’d never see again. It was blurry, but he knew who it was. In the mirror, the man wrapped a hand across his shoulder, gripping it tightly and smiling like the Cheshire Cat.

"I told you I was gonna get you for that, Billy Batson." The hand on his shoulder tightened and Billy bit his lip to keep from screaming.

It wasn't real. It wasn't real. It wasn't--

KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK

Billy jumped, hands tugging up the jeans he was previously putting on. He winced and zipped and buttoned them. They sort of fit, but he could tell he’d need a bigger size; he’d been properly nourished since he’d gotten to the Vasquez’s house and he’d gained weight.

“Billy? Are you alright in there, mi amor?” he hears Rosa ask from the other side of the door.

“Y-yeah,” Billy replied. “The pants don’t fit, though. I need a bigger size.”

“Okay. Why don’t you pass them out and I’ll get you a size up, alright?”

“Alright. Thank you.” Billy passed her the pants over the door and listened as she walked away. Once she was gone, Billy pulled the outer shirt off and hung it up on a separate hook and then pulled off the under shirt. When he did, the figure was back. Billy turned, panting heavily, and faced the man.

“Billy, Billy, Billy. Silly Billy Boy. Thought you could get away from me? Guess you’re dumber than everyone thought,” he hissed, coming in closer. Billy breathed out heavy, shaky breaths.

“Please, Silas. I didn’t say anything. Please don’t hurt me,” he begged.

“Hurt you?” Silas scoffed. “Oh no, Billy Batson. I’m not going to hurt you. If I hurt you, they’ll send me back to jail on adult charges. No. I’m not going to hurt you. You’re gonna make it up to me and this time your gonna keep that pretty mouth shut.”

“H-how?” Billy asked, clutching the pants he’d been trying on in front of him. Silas pushed them away, looking at Billy in his underwear, licking his lips slyly. He shoved the boy against the mirror and leaned in to his ear.

“Like this,” Silas growled before smashing his lips into Billy's, gripping the boy's wrists and keeping them pressed against the wall behind him as to avoid resistance.

Billy found himself on the floor of the dressing room, mid-panic attack and unable to breathe properly. Tears streamed down his face and he cried out when someone knocked on the door. He couldn’t hear what the person was saying, only Silas’ words echoing in his brain, bouncing from one side to the other, repeating over and over again: Like this. Like this. Like this. The door opened and Billy yelped, closing his eyes and curling in on himself to avoid what he was sure was coming. Hands gripped his shoulders and he cried out again, sobs wracking his body.

“Billy, mi amor, open your eyes for me, sweetie,” a whispered voice broke through his thoughts and Billy knew the voice and the gentle way of speaking. He opened his eyes slowly, coming to terms with the image in front of him.

“R-Rosa?” The hand on his left shoulder moved up to cup his cheek.

“Yes, mi amor. It’s me. I’m right here,” she assured, smiling that smile that filled Billy’s stomach with a tingly feeling even after all this time. He lurched forward and wrapped his arms around her shoulders, still dimly aware that he was still in just his underwear. She wrapped her own arms around his back and whispered soothingly into his ear.

“Please don’t let him hurt me. Please, Rosa,” Billy sobbed into her shoulder, not caring who saw. He just wanted to be safe.

“I won’t let anyone hurt you, mi amor. I promise,” Rosa whispered. Billy didn’t know how long they sat there in each other’s embrace, but quite honestly, he didn’t even care. When he pulled back from Rosa’s shoulder, she cupped his face in both hands and wiped away the excess tears with the pads of her thumbs.

“It was three years ago,” Billy started. He wanted the telling to be of his own volition and Rosa never pushed. “I was with a foster family who had another kid with a criminal record. He was nearly eighteen and they said his next offense would have him charged as an adult. I caught him one time in bed with a kid around my age, maybe younger. He made me promise not to tell the parents or else and I didn’t, but I guess they found out, cause they had him on probation while they searched for proof. He thought I did it and one day he cornered me in a dressing room after ditching his female PO. He made me make it up to him by giving him what I’d interrupted with the other kid. I didn’t tell anyone, but I packed my stuff and ran. I don’t know where he is now and it scares me.” He started to cry again and Rosa pulled him to her chest again.

“Oh, Billy, mi corazon. I’m so sorry. I promise Victor and I will do everything to make sure nothing like that happens again. I love you,” she expressed. Billy’s breath hitched. It was the first time someone had ever said that directly to him and truly meant it.

“I.” Billy hesitated, paused. Was it something he really wanted to say? “I love you, too.”

It was.

[ughseoks-main]

follow me - |2|

peter parker x reader

summary: you just got your spidey powers and have no idea how to use them, but lucky for you, a certain spider-boy is willing to teach you his ways.

word count: 1.9k

warnings: small fight scene 

a/n: guys..... y’all dont even know what i have in store for this series.... ch1&2 may seem chill, but it’s gonna get crazy soon. i’m so excited to keep posting it eee!! enjoy!

chapter 1 - chapter 3

“Y/N! You’re gonna be late for school!” your mom yelled up the stairs, only panicking your tired mind even more.

“I know, I know!” you shouted back, “I’m hurrying!”

You’d been out all night practicing with Spidey (that’s the nickname you’d given him, since you didn’t know his real name), and when your alarm went off at 6am, you may have hit the snooze button one too many times.

Spidey had been trying to teach you how to stick and unstick to things, but you just couldn’t get the hang of it. After hours of frustration and countless accidents, you both decided that it’d be best to take a break and keep working on it at your next practice. But now, you had the issue of accidentally sticking to objects at random. (For example: you’d accidentally gotten stuck to your toilet when you’d tried to flush it the night before.)

“Bye mom!” you shouted as you ran out the door and started jogging towards school. All you could do on the way there was hope and pray that you didn’t accidentally stick to something, or somebody, at school.

___________

It all started when Peter had sat down at your lunch table, asking you a question about your chemistry homework. When you leaned over to look at the work he’d done wrong on the problem, you’d placed your hand on his forearm.

Big mistake. Now, you were sitting there, unable to let go of him. You smiled awkwardly and tried to tug away, but your hand wouldn’t budge.

“Uhh, Y/N?” Peter asked, confusion evident in his voice, “Is, uh, everything okay?”

“Y-yeah!” you tried to play off the situation as cooly as possible, “Why? Are- are you okay?” You attempted to direct the question back at him in order to hide your panic.

“Yeah, I’m okay… but are you?” he looked more concerned than anything, but you were still worried that he’d think you were insane.

(Inside, Peter felt terrible for not being able to help more; he felt that he’d failed as a teacher, because clearly you were struggling. If you didn’t get this figured out soon, you’d be able to accidentally reveal your powers to almost anybody.)

“Of course!” you plastered on the biggest smile possible and gave it one last tug, your hand finally unsticking from him. “I’ve gotta go, I’ll see you later!”

“Wait, we weren’t done with the worksheet-”

“Bye!” you smiled, scooping up your things and practically sprinting away from him. Your sneakers slapped the floor as you ran through the cafeteria doors, slowing to a walk once you were back in the hallway. As you caught your breath, your attention shifted to the small television mounted above your head.

“Crime rates have been on the rise for the past two months, and we have no doubt that they will continue to increase,” the news anchor announced grimly, “We advise that you take extra measures to keep you and your family safe. Always lock your doors, walk in pairs at night-”

You shook your head and blocked him out, placing that tidbit of information in the back of your mind for later.

____________

Kick. Punch. Dodge. These were the three words that would haunt you in your sleep for the next hundred years.

Spidey was currently training you on how the basics of hand-to-hand combat, and while you were a quick learner, he was much more skilled than you. Even though you’d been training for at least two hours, you’d yet to win a match against him even once.

You threw a punch, but he caught your fist, twisting your arm and slamming you down.

“Ouch,” you exhaled, slowly sitting up from where you were laying on the ground, “Hey, can I ask you something?”

“Go for it,” he shrugged, extending a hand to help you up, “We could probably use a short break anyways.”

“Have you seen the news reports? The ones about crime rates increasing?”

“Yeah, but I’m not sure why it’s increasing. It’s something I’ve been trying to figure out-”

Suddenly, a scream rang through the night air, causing both of you to tense up. His head snapped towards you before nodding slightly in the direction of the scream. “Let’s go. Training can wait.”

Bobbing your head in agreement, the two of you took off, jumping from rooftop to rooftop. As you drew closer, you felt Spidey to become increasingly worried. Why? Hadn’t he done this a billion times before?

“What’s up?” you shouted towards him, trying to make yourself heard over the rush of wind in your ears.

“I know somebody who lives here,” he replied, concern and nervousness evident in his slightly shaky voice, “I just hope it wasn’t them.”

As you drew closer towards the place of origin, your spider senses began to direct you towards a large apartment building. It seemed that Spidey was feeling the same tug in his gut. You landed on the roof, climbing down the side of the building until you reached a window that was practically screaming at you.

Spidey shoved it open before slipping inside, you following immediately afterwards. You heard shuffling and signs of struggle coming from what you assumed was the living room as soon as your feet dropped onto the carpeted floor. Spidey was already turning the corner when you dropped, so you sped up to try to catch him.

When you finally reached him, you froze in place when you saw a masked man holding a gun to the head of a woman with long, reddish-brown hair. Much to your surprise, she didn’t seem very nervous at all. In fact, she looked more surprised to see you than she was at being held at gunpoint.

“Thanks for stopping by, Spider-Man,” the criminal sneered, malice and anger soaking into his words, “So glad you could make it. Say, who’s this new girl? I haven’t seen her around before.”

“Can it, would ya?” Spidey quipped, his senses practically radiating anger.

“I don’t think I will,” he shrugged, “It seems I can do just about whatever I want, considering I’m holding this lovely lady hostage here.”

“Not for long,” the hero murmured under his breath before shooting a web onto the end of the gun. This surprised the criminal enough for you to sprint over and kick him sideways across the face, immediately tackling him and pinning his arms behind his back. You held him in place until Spidey came over, quickly using his webs to tie together his wrists and legs.

“Nice work,” he gave you an excited nod, holding his hand up for a high five, “That was pretty slick. I didn’t even need to tell you what I needed you to do.”

“You work well together,” the woman inserted herself into the conversation, “Thanks, you two.”

Throwing up a hand, you waved dismissively, telling her it was no big deal. As you did so, you tried to get a good look at her face. You were sure that you knew her from somewhere, but you just couldn’t place your finger on it.

“Are you okay, Ma’am?” Spidey asked in a trying-too-hard-to-be-serious voice, eliciting a small giggle from the woman.

“I’m just fine thanks to you two, Mister Spider-Man,” she gave him a knowing look, making you wonder if they knew each other better than they were letting on.

“So,” he scratched the back of his neck, “H-how’s Peter?” Something was off about the way he asked the question; the little sparkle in the woman’s eyes when he spoke.

“Peter?” you interrupted, “As in Peter Parker? You know him, Spidey?”

“I’m Peter’s Aunt,” the woman answered before Spidey could, sticking out her hand for you to shake, “Sorry, I should’ve introduced myself earlier. You can call me May.”

“Nice to meet you, May,” you took her hand, giving her a genuine smile. It seemed like Spidey was about to answer the question you’d asked when suddenly the criminal spoke up, finally recovering from that kick to the head.

“So, you’re gonna put me in jail, just like you did to the boss?” the man growled, a sick sense of humor in his voice. Spidey simply shrugged, opening the door for the perfectly-timed police. The man didn’t say anything else as he was cuffed and dragged away, but his eyes never left you. It made your skin crawl.

“Can we get out of here?” you shivered, wanting to escape the man’s gaze. Spidey agreed, the two of you waving goodbye to May before slipping back outside.

You slowly made your way up to the roof, dangling your legs off the edge and gazing out at the city sprawled beneath you. There was something beautiful about it, and in that moment, you were incredibly thankful to have been given the opportunity to experience it in the way that you were. It seemed like you and Spidey had been sitting there staring out at the glowing lights for forever when you finally broke the silence.

“So, you mentioned back there that you know Peter?” you asked quietly. For some reason, you felt like if you spoke too loudly, the peace of the night would shatter around you in a million broken pieces.

“Oh yeah,” his voice was smooth and soft, carried by the soft breeze towards you, “I know him through Tony Stark. We both have internships there.”

“That’s cool,” you rested your chin on the palm of your hand, “I know him through Stark too, actually.”

The second the words came out of your mouth, you knew you’d messed up. Obviously Spidey had a Stark internship; he was basically Stark’s apprentice. But how many normal people got those internships?? Not very many. And you’d just revealed that you were one of the few who’d been awarded one. Considering how close he was with Tony, it wouldn’t be that hard for him to just ask for a list of all of the interns and figure out it was you.

Bu, much to your surprise, Spidey had no reaction to what you said. All he did was blink and turn his head back towards the city, only to be startled by his phone beginning to ring. It sounded like… yodeling?

“Sorry,” he held it up to his ear after a few rings, “Hey…”

You politely tuned out his conversation until he hung up, apologizing once more for it interrupting your conversation.

“It’s totally fine,” you paused for a moment, debating on whether or not to say what you were about to say, “You know, that ringtone sounds kinda familiar. I think that’s actually Peter’s ringtone-”

“That’s because, uh,” he stammered, trying to come up with an explanation, “That’s because we’re good friends! We’re really good friends and we wanted matching ringtones, that’s all.”

“Oh. That makes sense, I guess,” you shrugged, “Well, I should probably get going. I don’t want my mom to freak over me being out so late.”

“I’ll probably stay and keep watch for another hour or so,” he waved goodbye to you as you stood up from the ledge, “I’ll see ya later.”

“Bye,” you smiled before leaping off of the roof and swinging away, leaving the hero and all of his mysteries behind you. Maybe one day, you’d figure out the truth behind the mask.

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[yusuke-of-valla]

Just a dumb Blueberry Sibs thing I couldn’t get out of my head. Idk I may write a sequel when I’m not about to pass out

——–

“Joker, look out!”

That phrase had the oddest habit of being said right before something that’s going to ruin any plans for the rest of the day happens.

Ren feels a rough shove at his back, and falls forward. He turns around to see Yusuke enveloped in a puff of pink smoke.

“Fox!”

The smoke clears and where Yusuke was standing is… Yusuke. But smaller.

Oh fuck, Yusuke’s been turned into a child.

Yusuke scowls at them. “Where am I? Who’re you.”

Oh fuck, Yusuke’s been turned into a child who doesn’t remember them.

Makoto takes a step forward, and Yusuke steps back.

“D-don’t come any closer. Or… um. I-I’ll execute you!” Yusuke’s hand goes to the holster at his side. That has a gun in it.

Why the fuck does kid Yusuke have a gun?

“You don’t need to be scared.” Makoto says gently. “We can explain.”

“Guys, I’m getting a weird reading from baby Inari.” Futaba whispers.

“Yeah, ‘cuz he’s an effin’ toddler.” Ryuji mutters.

“No not weird in a 'I have no idea what this is way,’ weird in a 'I know what I’m picking up and it doesn’t make any sense way.’”

“What are you talking about?” Haru asks.

“He has a-”

“Pygmalion!” The cry snatches their attention, and Ren watches as Yusuke points the gun to his head and summons a Persona that definitely isn’t Goemon or Kamu Susano-o.

A wall of ice shoots up between the Phantom Thieves and Yusuke. Through it, they can see Yusuke take off in the opposite direction.

“He has a different Persona?” Ann gasps. “How the hell does that work? If you’re younger your Persona just changes?”

Goro hums. “I suspect it’s more a matter of Fox already being able to use that Persona at that age.”

“We saw his Awakening though, didn’t we?” Morgana says. “And baby Fox’s clothes didn’t change.”

“Though, he didn’t need a mask to summon it.” Makoto poings out.

Gorro nods. “It seems our Fox has been keeping secrets from us.”

“Who cares?” Ryuji snaps. “Even if he can use a Persona he’s still running around down here by himself. With those tiny-ass legs he ain’t getting anywhere before the Reaper shows up and gets him.”

“Skull’s right.” Ren says. “Let’s get going, we’ll sort all this out when we’ve got Yusuke and he’s back to normal.”

-*-*-*-

Of course. Of course

Minato finally puts him on the front lines, and Yusuke immediately sets off or trap or something and ends up in…. wherever the hell he is.

He finds a corner that provides a decent vantage point to watch for any approaching shadows or masked strangers and catches his breath.

Naoto would probably say the best thing to do is take stock of the situation.

What does he know?

One second, he was in Tartarus.

The next, he was someplace else. Other than the ending tunnels and shadows, it has nothing in common with Tartarus. The aesthetics are comepletely different. Where as Tartarus was more somber, this place was bathed in harsh red light.

So he’s somewhere that probably isn’t Tartarus. And it’s underground.

Next, those people in the masks. Maybe they were part of the Nyx cult? Junpei had mentioned cultists wearing masks in one of his scary stories before. It would also explain why they’d nabbed him, if they were the reason he ended up here.

Although, the cat-thing didn’t look like someone in a costume.

So maybe they’re Shadows, but they looked human.

Like Ryoji! Oh! What if they were friends of Ryoji’s who wanted to help!

Although, if they did want to help Ryoji, they’d probably talk to all of SEES, not just him.

Yusuke groans. If only Naoto or Minato or someone else were here, they’d know what to do in a heartbeat. Well, maybe not not Ken or Koromaru but at least if they were here, he wouldn’t be alone.

Yusuke takes a deep breath. His best course of action for finding out more information is to find the guys in masks, but if they’re enemies, he can’t fight them all off.

He has to be smart.

-*-*-*-

“He’s upahead!” Futaba announces.

“Thank goodness.” Makoto sighs. Ren also feels relieved, but he can’t relax. They’d heard the Reaper’s chains earlier, and he won’t feel better until their at a rest area and Yusuke’s fixed.

“There!” Morgana shouts. The bus comes to a stop in a wider area with 3 tunnels branching up in different directions. Yusuke is standing at the mouth of the north one.

“Yus-Fox!” Ann calls. “Thank goodness you’re alright.”

“Stay back!” Yusuke yells. “Come closer and I make another ice wall and we run around again. I want to ask you some questions.”

“That’s alright,” Haru says gently. “We don’t want to hurt you.”

Yusuke takes a deep breath. “Ok. Are you shadows or cultists?”

They all look at each other, dumbfounded.

“Neither?” Haru says eventually. “Look I know this all might seem confusing but-”

“We’re Persona users, we’re your friends, it’s 2016, and a shadow zapped you into being a preshooler.” Futaba blurts out.

Now it’s Yusuke’s turn to look dumbfounded. “Alright, first of all, I’m going to be 10 in a week, I’m not in preschool. Now, admitably that story of yours is… not implausible given what shadows can do and is just insane enough I don’t think you’d come up with it if you’re trying to trick me. But if we’re really friends, you have to prove it.”

“You’re favorite painting is Sayuri.” Makoto says.

Yusuke scoffs. “I tell that to everybody, try again.”

“You eat oranges by just biting into them like an apple.” Ryuji says.

Goro leans over to Ann “Wait he does?”

“Yep,” Ann whispers back.

Yusuke pouts. “The peel tastes the best when you eat it at the same time as the pulp!”

“You’re not supposed to eat the peel!” Morgana responds.

“If I’m not supposed to eat it, then why is it edible.”

“Just because eating it won’t kill you doesn’t mean you should eat it!”

“We’re not having this argument again.” Ann sighs. “Yusuke will you trust us? We promise, we’re not going to hurt you.”

“Alright.” Yusuke says after a moment. “So I’m a teenager. How do I go back to being a teenager?”

“We don’t know.” Futaba says. “You kind of ran away before we could get a good grasp on your condition.”

That rattling of chains echoes through the halls.

“Oh so it is here.” Yusuke muses. He points behind him. “Anyway yeah, the stairs are down there if you want to continue this conversation.”

[psychokai1972]

The Boss- Part 15

The Boss- Masterlist

Part 14

CEO!Sebastian Stan x CEO!Reader

Word Count: 1952

Warnings: some language, cheesy, fluff

Summary: Y/N and Sebastian are co-CEOs of a successful company. Their relationship is not the best. It’s more a competition than anything. But eventually they’ll have to learn to cope with each other.

A/N: I didn’t proof read it, so sorry if there are any mistakes.

“ And that’s your daddy.” She turned the camera to him, he was walking around the kitchen, looking for his car keys.

Sebastian smirked. “Actually, I’m your dad. Your mother is the one that calls me daddy.” He winked at the camera. “Where have I left them?”He mumbled under his breath and started opening the drawers.

“Seb!” She protested looking at him with an amused glare and her lips parted. “ To be fair, it was once and totally justified because you had a beard and longer hair and you are seven years older than me.” Y/N switched to the front camera. “And we were trying new things!” She continued.

The romanian chuckled and walked down to her giving her a peck on the lips. “I didn’t say it was something bad.” He lifted his eyebrows sultrily. “By the way James, see this blue sweater,” he gently gripped the material from her shoulder, “this is mine, your mother has been stealing my clothes.”

“You jackass.” She laughed. “Sharing is caring!”

The Romanian lifted one eyebrow at her. “Oh yeah,what do you share with me?” His hands resting on his hip waiting for an answer.

The CEO closed one eye and shrugged her nose thinking. “Mhm, this house? The bed!” She said, her eyes going wide and her finger pointing at the direction where the stairs were.

“And even when you do so you kick me at night.” He said matter of factly.

Y/N turned her head to him quickly. “Shut up,you dork.”

“Aw, so much love and affection between your parents.” He wrapped his arms around her from behind and rested his head on her shoulder. “But, seriously. She takes my clothes because of you, can’t wait to the day you are born and I have my things back to myself.” The blue eyed man joked.

Y/N shook her head while biting her lower lip. “Actually,” she started looking blankly ahead of her and counting the months, “there is not so much time left before he’s here, just three more months.” She said the last words turning  her head briefly at him and widening her eyes. An action he copied when reality hit him.

“Oh god, you are right. You’re due in March, right?” He asked and she nodded. “And the nursery is not even done yet!” Sebastian got away from her, his eyes landing on the car keys resting on the fridge. “Why did I even put them here?” He asked to himself trying to remember the motive of the placing.

“Seb,you are a mess. Sooo,your father is going to pick his friend Chris at the airport. He said you’ll be calling him your uncle, which he’s not, but we are only children in our families so this is the closes you’ll ever have to an uncle. This is the filming for today, you’ll be hearing more of us in a couple of days.Bye baby.” She cheered.

Sebastian stood behind her waving. “Bye James, I’m really seeing forward for the day you see this videos your mother is making and get all red and ashamed.” 

“Sebastian!” Y/N’s voice could be heard at the background as he laughed guiltily.She turned off the camera and left the phone on the isle. “You’re such a dork.” She rolled her eyes but wrapped her arms around his neck nonetheless. 

“Mhm, I know.” He said looking down at her with a smirk. “Gotta go, see you soon,okay?” She nodded and connected her lips with his in a sweet kiss.

“Now go.” She slapped his ass gently.

Sebastian chuckled and gave her one last peck on the lips. “If you need anything, you call me, alright?” 

She sighed. “Yes, yes, I will. As always.” Sebastian kissed her belly and left for the airport.

________________________________________________________

Sebastian turned the engine on and felt his friend’s eyes on him.

“So,” Chris started saying, making the romanian look briefly at him in awaiting. “ much has happened in your life since the last time I saw you.” The man said with a smirk on his features. “Engaged and soon to be dad! That’s something.” He chuckled brushing his beard. “Never thought I would see you settling down,man.” His head shaking in remembering of both his and his friend’s numerous one night stands. “You must really love her.”

Sebastian shrugged his shoulders with a smile crossing his lips. “It feels right, I’m happier than I’ve ever been, Chris.” Chris could see his eyes shining in a way he had never seen before. “And yeah, I do love her and that little kicker; I would do anything for them.”

Chris looked at the ceiling remembering something. “You know, there’s this question you should ask yourself to know if she’s the one: can you live without her? If the answer is yes, don’t hold onto it; if it’s no, then don’t let go of her. So,can you live without Y/N,Seb?”

The Romanian narrowed his eyes briefly, the thought that he had heard that somewhere else crossed his mind. “Isn’t...” he pinched his lower lip with his thumb and index finger, “ isn’t that from ‘End Of Watch’?” He asked laughing.

Chris rolled his eyes. “That’s not the point,just answer the question!”He chuckled.

Silence fell upon them until Sebastian’s voice was listened. “I-I can’t.” His answer short but clear.

Chris smiled and rested his hand on his shoulder squeezing it lightly. “Then don’t fuck this up buddy.”

“Yeah.” Sebastian whispered almost to himself.

Being his phone connected to the car via bluetooth, the incoming call could be heard throughout the whole car. Sebastian looked at the screen seeing Y/N’s name on it, he smiled unconsciously. It didn’t pass unnoticed by his friend. The CEO quickly pressed the little answer button that was placed on the wheel and her angelic voice filled his ears.

“Hey baby, picked up Chris?”

Sebastian nodded his head at the same time as he spoke. “Yes, everything’s fine?” He asked, certain worry that something bad happened for her to call overtook him.

But it soon faded away as she talked. “ Oh yeah, just James kicking the shit out of me,but what’s new?” He could feel her grinning. Both men laughed at her words. “Anyway, I called to ask if you could pass by the store and get me some vanilla milkshakes,blueberries and like 5 boxes of cheesecake?” She batted her eyelashes even though he could not see her.

Sebastian smirked. “You got it, draga.”

“Alright,thank you; see you in a bit.” She sang.

“See you.” He replayed before She hung up.

Chris lifted one eyebrow at him. “Why so many cheesecakes?Are you having a party or something?”

Sebastian laughed deeply and shook his head. “No,no; that’s for her.”

“All of it?” He asked.

“All of it.”

Chris once more rubbed his beard. “And just out of curiosity, how long do those five cheesecakes last?”

“Mhm, something like two or three days; it depends.” Sebastian responded gesturing with his right hand.

Chris widened his eyes. “Dude, you should take her to a pie eating contest,I’m sure she’d win.”

“I’m pretty convinced that any pregnant woman would win.” Sebastian chuckled.

________________________________________________________

“We’re here!” The romanian announced as he closed the door behind them, his voice loud so she could hear him. He gestured Chris to leave his suitcase on the entrance and they walked further in into their home.

At the hearing of his voice, Y/N rushed to put something on, opting for a pair of tight grey sweatpants and one of Sebastian’s black hoodies. She gripped the material just above her chest and lifted it to her nose, her eyes closing briefly as the smell of him overtook her. Even thought she had him with her everyday, it made her smile. 

“Are you home?” She heard him ask when there was no answer coming from her.

Y/N opened the door to the bedroom  and walked down the stairs. “Coming.” She said reaching the bottom and heading for the kitchen, knowing that probably that was the first place where they would go. And she wasn't wrong, the two men were standing in the kitchen remembering old times, each one with a beer on their hands. “ You guys having fun?” She asked resting her body on the door’s frame and tucking one of the loosened wet strands of hair behind her ear.

Both men where too caught up in their conversation to notice that she was there before she spoke. Chris turned to face her and Sebastian smiled at her. “Haven’t seen you in so long Chris, how are you?” She asked kindly,legs making their way to him and hugging him.

“ Company, company, company. You know, same old.” He grinned taking in sight her large belly. “ How are you holding up?” He asked pointing at her bump with his beer.

“Same with us.” She said nodding her head and  moved to Sebastian. “Hi baby.” She kissed him briefly on the lips. “Oh, apart from having this little one kick me almost all the time; difficulty doing certain things, such as sometimes get up from bed; cravings; and sometimes cramps; everything’s fine.” Y/N chuckled feeling Sebastian rub her lower back gently. 

“Nice thing you have this one right here to help you get out of bed.” Chris said.

Y/N laughed shaking her head and getting away from Sebastian to look into the big paper bag placed on the counter. “ Help me get out of bed?” She asked ironically. “ Most of the times he just pulls me back in and keeps me there. He’s such a cuddler.” 

“Oh my god.” They heard the romanian say under his breath. Y/N looked overt to him and saw his cheeks achieving a red color. 

“It’s that so?” Chris asked with a shit eating grin on his features.

Y/N pulled out one of the cheesecakes and three forks, in case someone else more than her wanted some and left them on the isle. “ It is, he’s so warm.” She chuckled shoving some into her mouth.

“ Like a teddy bear.” Chris commented seeing how red Sebastian’s face was getting. Y/N just hummed in response, agreeing with him. 

The romanina rolled his ocean like eyes. “ Decided, I’m gonna murder you both tonight.” He said as serious as possible.

The mother of his child moved closer to him and wrapped her arms around him from the side. “Aww, baby, we’re just joking. Although, you wouldn't do such thing, you know why?”

Sebastian pinched the bridge of his nose before answering and looked down at her. “Why?” He was already regretting having asked.

“Because tonight you’ll most probably be in bed cuddling me.” She kissed his cheek quickly and got away from him hearing Chris laugh.

“Oh, fuck you both, seriously.” Even though he attempted to look mad, a smile crept on his face as the words fell from his lips.

________________________________________________________

The tip of his fingers caressed her shoulder as he watched her submerged in a deep sleep. Y/N was hugging his body close to hers, her head resting on his chest, his torso serving as a pregnancy pillow and their legs tangled. She had went to bed before him and Chris, her eyes couldn't bare staying open anymore and her body had been too tired out to keep on functioning. He could occasionally feel James moving in her bump, the little baby sometimes pressing on the part of the belly that was against his body. An unconscious smile crossed his lips every time it happened.

“I don’t think you know this, but I love you.” Sebastian whispered into the night, trying not to wake her up and pressed a chaste kiss on her head. “ I never thought this would turn out like this, but I’m glad it did.” The blue eyed man took a deep breath, the words Chris said earlier in the day resounding in his mind. “ I’ll try not to fuck up, Y/N. I don’t want to lose you again, draga; neither one of you.”

Part 16

MASTERLIST

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[mayonara]

Turkey Hands

Jason finds Dick drawing turkey hands in the kitchen and decides to join him.

Because Thanksgiving has almost arrived, I’ll be writing three little fics just for Thanksgiving! They’ll all be posted this week (thurs/fri) and this is part 1/3.

Enjoy everyone!

Also posted on AO3

Jason stiffed a yawn, mouth open wide and dragged his feet down the treacherous manor stairs. The family had a late night emergency they had to deal with and received a call from Bruce about the inmates of Arkham attempting a breakout. The Batman rounded everyone up to stop them before it was too late, which they did succeed at and immediately right after, Jason just passed out in Dick's bedroom since he was too exhausted to go back to his place.

He'd left the boy in Alfred's care while he caught up on sleep and now it was already late afternoon, 3:16 pm to be exact. Jason was starving, felt his stomach rumbling, begging for food. To satiate his hunger, he stopped in the kitchen for something to fill him up and found Dick there all by himself.

"Dick?" Jason murmured tiredly as he stared at the boy sitting at the kitchen table.

Dick paused for a brief moment, bright blue eyes blinking up at Jason. A smile spread across his lips, expression lighting up like Christmas morning. "Jay!" He screeched and made grabby hands at him, beckoning him to come over.

Jason did as he was told and settled by his side. The boy then stood up on his chair and stretched out his arms, making Jason bend over so he could place a wet kiss on his cheek before he sat back down.

Jason just gawked at him. The boy was in a surprisingly good mood since he was being a brat yesterday, angry that Jason left him behind. He wasn't happy about it and when he came home, he wasn't asleep in his room when he typical would be. When he asked the butler for an answer, he gave one. And per Alfred's words 'Master Dick prefers to sleep with Master Tim tonight' and that's all he said before he turned around on his heels and left. Jason was too tired to care and left Dick with Tim. Figured he'd deal with it in the morning. Though it seemed like Dick forgot all about being angry which a good thing since he didn't have to coax him out of his tantrum.

Jason drew in a breath and fluttered his eyes down to the table, found an assortment of paper and pens, colored pencils and stickers and the like. Seemed like he was doing some crafting.

"What are you doing?" Jason asked.

"Dwaing!" Dick answered and returned his attention to whatever he was doing before he spotted Jason.

"Oh? What are you drawing?" Jason attempted to take a peek as he leaned over his small shoulder and spotted something rather interesting though he wasn't sure what it was.

"Tuwkey!"

"Ah," Jason murmured, realizing that he was drawing those children's turkeys with the hand. "Can I see?" Jason leaned closer so he could get a better view since Dick was hovering above it.

"No!" The boy rejected and slapped Jason on the cheek, pushing him away. "You can't see!" He said and placed his hands over his drawing, covering it. "You can't! It's a suwpwise!"

"Ugh," Jason groaned, still being shoved away and exhaled heavily, disappointed that he was rejected. "Okay." He accepted defeat and retreated, taking a few steps back. "I'll let you draw while I fix myself up breakfast," Jason murmured and Dick just nodded his head, didn't bother looking at the man as he continued drawing.

Jason chuckled softly, slightly amused at how petty the boy was being and decided to start scavenging the kitchen for something. Luckily for him, he didn't have to whip up some food for himself as Alfred had already set aside a plate of sandwiches. Bless the old man. Jason picked up the plate, poured a big glass of orange juice and returned to the table, sitting right across from the boy.

He ate in relative silence as he watched Dick draw, intensely focused as he was decorating his turkey. Interested, Jason decided to give it a try as well.

"Hey Dick, can I draw too?"

Dick jerked his head upward, crayon in hand and stared at Jason in interest. "You want to dwaw?"

"Yeah."

Dick's lips curled upwards slightly into a curious pout, eyebrows pinching as he gazed at the man before he broke out into a smile. "Okay!" He answered and then shoved some of the utensils towards Jason. "Don't bweak them though."

"Oh? Why?" Jason asked as he grabbed a piece of paper and slid it towards himself.

"Because—it's Dami's!" Ah, so the little demon brat let him borrow his coloring utensils.

"Okay. I'll be careful," and damn right he will be. He didn't want to die by the hands of their youngest. That would be a horrible death.

Jason grabbed a few of the colored crayons, some browns, reds and yellows and placed his whole hand on the paper. It barely fit but just enough for him to trace it out. Once outlined, he started decorating it, adorning the fingers with feathers and adding a tail and face, brightening it up and giving the turkey some character. It didn't take long for him to finish and once done, he settled the crayons aside and stared down at the finished product.

"Looks good," he murmured, smiling. He was quite proud of his turkey and realized he'd actually hadn't drawn once since he was a child.

"Jesson done?" Dick called out, capturing his attention and Jason fluttered his eyes to the boy, found him watching and hugging his piece of paper.

"Yeah. Can you show me yours now?" Jason asked and Dick nodded his head in agreement before he let his little artwork flutter to the table.

Jason couldn't quite see it upside down so he turned the picture to the side and set his down as well. And fuck, Dick's was really adorable. His turkey was so tiny in comparison to his own considering he's like three, and it was much more vibrant and whimsical. The turkey was decorated with not only just feathers and the like, it even had feet and shoes, a hat and other cute decorations. Dick even drew a background of trees and grass, flowers and birds and then started filling the empty spaces with cute doodles of Thanksgiving dishes.

"Oh wow, you did a good job Dick," Jason complimented and flashed a smile at the boy, but Dick didn't seem too happy about that. His lips were forlorn and he was definitely pouting. The thing was, he wasn't pouting at Jason per say, but he was actually gawking at Jason's turkey. His blue eyes would flicker from one drawing to the other, like he was comparing it, but he seemed a bit dissatisfied about something.

"What's wrong?" Jason asked.

"It’s biggew," Dick pointed out with his finger, tapping Jason's turkey and wiggled his nose.

"Ah well, I am bigger," Jason said and ruffled his hair. Dick puffed up his cheeks and folded his arms across his chest. Jason said nothing but laughed. "But yours is way better than mine."

Dick's expression faltered for a second and he blinked his eyes rapidly, surprised. "Weally?"

"Yeah, really."

And then suddenly, the smile returned to his face and he was beaming with pride. Jason couldn't help but adore the little kid, felt himself smiling as well. "Let's put them on the fridge, yeah?"

At that mention, Dick jumped in joy and grabbed the two pieces of paper before sliding off his chair and toddling towards the refrigerator. Sadly, he was too small to put it at the top so Jason assisted him. He scooped the boy up into his arms and brought him as close as possible to the refrigerator. There were already magnets neatly placed on the fridge and all Dick had to do was stick their turkey drawings on. He did a fantastic job displaying them side by side and after staring at them briefly, he nodded his head, pleased with himself and turned to look at Jason.

Jason pecked his cheek on a spur of the moment, adoring the little ball of sunshine. "Are you reading for Thanksgiving?"

Dick's blue eyes sparkled with glee and he nodded his head vigorously. "Mhm! Food!"

"What are you excited to eat?"

Dick hummed aloud and tilted his head to the side, pondering for a brief moment. "Appwe pie! And Tuwkey! And—and cown! Po-po-po....hmmm... toes?" He squeezed his eyes, having a difficult time saying potatoes.

"Mashed potatoes?"

"Mhm!" Dick nodded when Jason said for it. "And evewything!"

"Ah, everything? You must have a big tummy then." Jason rubbed his stomach playfully and Dick just giggled at it.

"Jay," Dick murmured. "Can I hab a cookie?"

Jason blinked at him at the sudden change of topic. "You want a cookie?"

"Awfewd made some but he wouwdn' gibe me one!" Dick exclaimed and huffed, mad that he didn't get a treat.

"Well," Jason pinched his nose, battling against himself whether he should be swayed by the boy or not. "Alfred might be mad if I spoil dinner for you." Which was the honest truth. The butler probably hid the cookies someplace so Dick wouldn't find them. Knowing him, he’d probably eat the whole jar and get a sugar rush. He had a feeling where they were hidden though and he was sure he could find them.

"But—" Dick protested, looking sad and Jason couldn't ignore those glassy blue eyes. "I want."

Jason was torn, should he listen to Alfred or Dick? After a brief moment of contemplating, he made his choice. "Okay. Okay. If we find it, you get one, but you can't tell."

Dick nodded his head and brought a finger to his lips. "Secwet."

"Yes, secret." This was probably a bad idea to do, teaching Dick how to lie, but it's not like the older version of him never did, so really, it wasn't all that bad.

"Good boy," Jason complimented and Dick just blushed, ducked his head under his chin while Jason whisked him away on their adventure to find the hidden cookies.

Much to say, they were successful and Dick got his wish.