#*tired I'm not american noises*

[nathaslosthershit]

Interviews and Playdates (OP81)

(Part of the Teen Dad!Oscar Piastri Au) Summary: The twins have made their paddock debut! The media is asking many of the drivers about it and the kids make a friend… or two.

The twins had been unable to sit still since they woke up this morning, too excited to get to visit the paddock for the first time and finally get to see their dad race. Oscar had hoped they would finally believe that he did in fact race the cars, something the twins were still not convinced of. 

Being that it was Oscar’s home race, he had decided to fly his family out to see his home. It was an exciting moment for the whole family. 

The minute they got to the paddock, all eyes were on them. Oscar and his fiancée had warned the kids of the media and fans, that there would be screaming and a lot of people. Luckily, the noise and amount of people just made the twins shy, huddling by their parents’ legs, which the adults definitely preferred, losing the two on the paddock at their first race wouldn’t have been the best of first impressions. 

As usual, the twins had their priorities in order. Before getting to the McLaren garage, they had demanded to their father that they be able to see their honorary uncle, Logan Sargeant, who wouldn’t be racing that day.

When the twins got to the Williams garage, their favorite American was waiting to greet them, with two LS2 Williams childrens hats, as well as a bag of blue colored candy for them to share. Despite how Logan had been feeling before they had come to visit, seeing them made him feel infinitely much better. 

“Logan please, they are off naps and if we give them sugar they are going to crash. I’m not even sure they are going to stay awake long enough to make it until race time.” Oscar pleaded as he watched his longtime friend ignore him and give his kids the treats anyway.

“Oscar its fine, let him spoil them a little.” Honey, Oscar’s fiancée, said.

“Do you guys like the new hats? See the LS? That's my logo. I thought when you guys are surrounded by all the orange- sorry papaya, you’d like to be able to easily see these two with their blue hats.” Logan said, first talking to the twins then their parents. Even if half of him just wanted to have them wearing Williams and Logan merch to piss Lando off, he also thought having them sticking out would be a good idea. It was sweet how much he cared.

After the Williams visit, on the way to the McLaren garage, the Piastri family was met with the two Haas drivers with two girls hiding behind them.

“Oscar, we have two girls here who wanted to say hi to the new grid kids.” Kevin Magnessun said as he pushed his daughter in front of him.

Oscar could see the Haas media admin recording this encounter, ready to capture the cute moment on tape.

But as kids do, there wasn’t much talking between the kids as their dads talked at first, finally after a bit of convincing and nudging, once the ice was broken, they had gotten along quite well. To the point that they all had to take their kids away, kicking and screaming once they had to leave. Luckily though, they had calmed down by the time they got to the McLaren garage. 

Tired from the sugar and fighting their parents when separating from the Haas girls, the twins weren’t too enthusiastic when greeted by McLaren members, which their parents apologized tenfold for. They did luckily perk up when they saw their second favorite  honorary uncle coming towards them. 

“What the hell are these two wearing, Oscar?” Lando asked, pointing to the LS hats the kids proudly adorned. 

“We stopped by the Williams garage just cause it was on the way and got two hats from Logan, I'm sure if you had beat him to it they would be wearing your merch but I think they are too attached to them now.” It was a lie, but Oscar didn’t feel the need to tell Lando his kids pleaded to go see Logan before him. He also didn’t mention that his son said he liked the hat so much because McLaren’s orange “hurt his eyes”. 

The kids were luckily well behaved for the race, having slept through a bit of it. They were also fortunate that, due to unfortunate circumstances, Logan joined them to watch a little bit of the Grand Prix. 

The best moment however, had to be when Oscar’s daughter saw him getting out of the car and finally muttered the words, “Daddy really drives the car!” to her mother. 

With all the excitement on the paddock about the Pastri twins, it seemed the media pen was more interested in what some of the drivers had to say about it, rather than asking questions about the race.

Logan Sargeant

“So Logan, rough day for you having to give up your car, but it seems your ‘niece and nephew’ have made their paddock debut, even rocking your own merch in the McLaren garage! How was that for you?” The interviewer asked.

“Yeah, them being here and keeping me company made it all a lot better. They immediately came to Williams because according to Oscar they were demanding to see me. And they wore the LS hats the entire time even though I wasn't racing so I think that has cemented me as the favorite once again.”

Lando Norris

“So it seems you and Logan Sargeant have a bit of an off track feud going on relating to the Norris twins and who their favorite uncle is. Logan had mentioned earlier that they had begged to go to Williams to visit him, before they even got to the McLaren garage. Did you know about this?”

The smile was immediately whipped from Lando’s face at this, “I had known, yes, when they came to the garage wearing Williams hats with a bag of treats in their hand I had assumed, but Oscar told me they just stopped over on the way there. I didn’t know they had asked specifically.”

“Seems he keeps lying to you about where the twins' loyalty lies.”

“He does! Makes me look like an idiot every time he does it.” Lando scoffed, “Whatever, I will win them over somehow. Logan just has a few years head start but I’ll find a way.”

Nico Hulkenburg

“Nico, a video posted by the Haas team earlier showed you and Kevin’s girls hanging out with the Piastri twins. Is there a budding friendship there between them?”

“Yes! They met for the first time today because Kevin and I had managed to bring our girls as well. So sweet seeing them altogether. I’m glad that Noemi will have more friends here. She was already telling her mom earlier that she wanted to plan a playdate with them. Might be hard given we live in different countries but I guess we will have to find a way.”

Daniel Ricciardo

“It's been a few months since it was revealed that your fellow aussie driver is a dad, now his kids are joining us on the paddock. What were your reactions at the time?” The interviewer asks.

“Well, I hadn’t known before he addressed it that he had kids, but it doesn’t seem like anyone else did so that isn’t too much of a surprise. Definitely a shock cause he is so young but good for him. I hadn’t seen his kids but I had heard they were over playing with the Haas girls which is adorable. He must be proud to show his kids what he does.” Daniel replied.

Alex Albon

“So, it seems one of your fellow 2019 rookie seems to have beef with your teammate over who is the better uncle to the Piastri twins. Being friends with both of them, do you have any input?”

“I knew before the rumors about the whole situation because Logan accidentally told most of our team when we were all kind of teasing him about how young he is and how he might be inexperienced in childcare, to which he then showed all of us the numerous pictures and videos of the twins that he took while babysitting or visiting, which I don’t think Oscar actually knew about him telling us. But it is sweet, he takes his uncle duties very seriously. Lando on the other hand, I think Oscar has done him an injustice by not telling him he isn’t the favorite because I think if he knew he had competition he would have been working much harder. Not that he isn’t also sweet with them but I think he may have offered to watch them a few more times.”

[pigfacedbitch]

Let's Break Up (II)

summary : you try to do the break up prank on your boyfriend.

word count : 0.5k

type : headcanons

pairing/s involved : Leo Valdez / Frank Zhang / Will Solace x Reader

warning/s : none

here is my masterlist! Part I is composed of Jason, Percy, and Nico.

Leo Valdez

"I don't love you anymore. I want to end this."

He will think it's joke but when the 'I'm kidding!' never comes, he tries not to make a big deal out of it.

Just chill and shrug like he was expecting it to happen.

"Oh well, if that's what you want."

He will overthink every situation where you acted suspicious; rejecting his affections, flirting with other guys— you know... signs of possible cheating or interest in other people?

Not that he doubts your loyalty but Leo's sense of inferiority can cloud his judgement; it's himself he is unsure of.

I'm not enough for her. There are better guys out there. I'm supposed to understand. Thoughts like that.

You better say it's a prank right away! Because once you let him go, he will probably cry and lock himself in Bunker 9.

You had to knock continuously on the metal door and sing like Anna in "Do You Wanna Buid A Snowman?" for Leo to get out.

"It's just a prank, love. I'm sorry."

He lets out quiet sobs when your eyes meet, but he's obviously relieved.

COMFORT HIM AND NEVER DO IT AGAIN.

Frank Zhang

"Listen, this relationship is not working out anymore. I want to break up."

Now, if you've watched the part in American Psycho where Patrick Batman breaks up with his fiancee then you'll be able to picture this.

Frank will cry, loudly at that. It will catch the attention of anyone nearby, embarassing you.

He won't hold back. No, no, no, my friend. There will be whining and any other loud noises any human in pain is possible of letting out.

Did you instantly think you are an idiot for doing this? Yes, sir! 😊😙

"Frank, quiet down!"

"Oh gods, (Y/N) doesn't love me anymore!"

"I do, it's just a prank!"

Stops immediately, dramatically wiping his tears with a smug look on his face. With your mouth agape, he walks away from you like an action star in a explosion movie scene.

"Next time you try to prank me, don't tell anyone beforehand!"

"...Damn it, Hazel!"

Will Solace

This lovely son of Apollo is always busy due to his medical duties in Camp Half Blood so he truly cherishes the short moments he gets to spend with you.

In other words? Don't fucking waste his time.

"Will, I think we should break up."

He had encountered many campers pretend sickness for various of reasons— wanting to escape cleaning duties, skip training, and many more.

He will see through your lie. He always does.

If you decided to pull this prank AFTER he got to rest from the infirmary, he will just give you the don't-try-me-bitch look.

If you picked BEFORE he got to rest, you're dead. Expect him to throw medical tools at you.

Don't worry, not sharp ones. Just the scabs, cotton balls, and such.

It can be annoying though, not mention the scolding Chiron will give you later for wasting inventory materials.

"Will, stop it!"

"Take it back!"

"Sorry, it was just a joke."

The man very tired, okay? Stop with the nonsense and just cuddle with him. The gods know he desperately needs it.

[sheisburiedhere]

The GraveRobber

Andrew graves x reader

Warning: cursing

Chapter 2

Chapter 1

Y/n who is tired of her shitty life not knowing it's about to get a lot more interesting

Y/n who had tried breaking down the door multiple times and been flirting and trading money for food from the guards

Y/n who intelligently hidden her food all over the apartment where your stupid boyfriend Jax left for work one day and never came back

Y/n who called that stupid Jax and been told that he can't come home till the quarantine over. He thinks you didn't hear that feminine giggle next to the phone. Your eyes widen as you slam it down with anger and grind your teeth digging your nails into your thighs.

I̸̡̛̳͌̉͋͐͒̍ ȟ̸̨̯̲̝̳͓͎̭͖͊̄̔̽̓̂̋̇̋̀̕̚͜â̸̙͐͑̌̿͛̽t̵̏͛̃̍́̈̚͜͝ẹ̷͓̺̰̽̍͛̉̐̔͋̓̚͜ ȟ̸̨̯̲̝̳͓͎̭͖͊̄̔̽̓̂̋̇̋̀̕̚͜i̵̢̢̡͚̩̞̥͕̜̻̫̩̐̈͘͜m̶̥͇͈̣̏͑̿͑̃̈͛̕͠, I̸̡̛̳͌̉͋͐͒̍'l̷̢̨̨̫̼͙̞͉̗͉̖̲̖̞̿̉l̷̢̨̨̫̼͙̞͉̗͉̖̲̖̞̿̉ ḟ̴̧̧̗͍͉͔̹͎̻͓̇͊̃̒̄̈̓̉̌̈͝͝i̵̢̢̡͚̩̞̥͕̜̻̫̩̐̈͘͜️ṉ̵͓̬͈̞̥̭̥̇̓̔͋d̴̨̢̤̗̦͚̺̭̤͙̹̃̕ ȟ̸̨̯̲̝̳͓͎̭͖͊̄̔̽̓̂̋̇̋̀̕̚͜i̵̢̢̡͚̩̞̥͕̜̻̫̩̐̈͘͜m̶̥͇͈̣̏͑̿͑̃̈͛̕͠ â̸̙͐͑̌̿͛̽️ṉ̵͓̬͈̞̥̭̥̇̓̔͋d̴̨̢̤̗̦͚̺̭̤͙̹̃̕-

Y/n who turns towards the noise at the balcony and see two emo looking ,hot topic intruders*rolls eyes*

The guy holds a cleaver as he looks at you nervously and the girl looks at you with a strange bitch look

Wait. You know that bitch look , you created that bitch look ,but of course yours is much better.

You stand up and cross your arms and turns your mouth up in disgust and stare her down completely ignoring the guy. And give her your branded bitch look.

How can such a pretty person make such and ugly face , who knows.

" Well are you both just gonna stare at me or you come to get something" you scowl only watching the girl while you both have a bitch face off.

Before the guy can speak the barks out "look here we just came for your food but we can kill you if you don't stand still and behave "

(Who the hell does she feel she is huh) you smile and begin to walk up to your kitchen cabinet as you glance at her about to blow a fuse.

"Are you dense didn't you hear me to stand still?!" She yells stomping here foot before being smacked in the face with a slice of American cheese and shutting up from the shock .

She turns to look at you with eyes that can kill . As you hand her a box filled of food ,could last for a week.

( how did she reach Infront of me so fast...) You turn to the guy not smiling but still feeling threatened by the cleaver as he still looks at the cheese on the girl's face and turn back to you nervously.

"You should put her on a leash," you say smiling at her as you realise that she doesn't like you close to guy as her face darkens .

You turn back to her ,"you look beautiful when you smile so you should keep doing that okay"

You feel the guy's eyes on you with a small smile as you glance back at him raising your eyebrows.(The hell is he looking at?)

"Now get the hell out I have things to do." You see the girl leave with a scowl and begins to walk away thinking she out of sight then skipping happily with the box of food across the wooden board that connects your balconies .Well isn't that cute.

"Thank you" the guy says breaking the silence. " It's no problem all of us are suffering" you say softly. "Not just for that...um I'm Andrew and that was my little sister Ashley" he says looking at you smiling showing his teeth. How adorable.

You both walk out to the balcony as he steps onto their balcony. "I'm Y/n" you say making sure he goes over safely.

"Thank you again Y/n , you don't know how much this means to us"

He waves as he enters his apartment. You walk back into yours and realise for the first time in a long time you smiled but here you are...alone again.

Maybe you meet Ashley and Andrew soon maybe you won't be alone again....

[loveisanimaginarydagger3000]

The Babysitter (4)

Parks And Puppies

Wanda Maximoff X Reader

Summary: In need of money and a way to escape the problems at home, you get a job babysitting two lovely boys named Billy and Tommy Maximoff. What happens when you start to feel things you shouldn't for their mother? Will it bloom into love or leave you heartbroken?

A/N- I would just like to say that there will be some sensitive issues in this story such as alcoholism, homophobia, anxiety as well as more mature content such as smut so, if you continue to read this, please consider this warning.

The Babysitter Master list | General Master List

Chapter 4- W/c 2.3k

Parks And Puppies

A loud ringing noise startles you awake, your hand shooting out of the comfort of your duvet to reach the device, eyes squinting as you see Natasha's name flash on the screen.

"Hey," your voice raspy from just waking up, your hand moving to cover your yawn as you flop back onto the bed, leaving your phone on speaker as you talk to your best friend.

"Hey Y/n, my best, best friend," her tone is too sweet, her words too complimentary making you groan.

"What do you want, Nat?" you grumble, only just looking at the time and realising she's woken you up at nine on a Saturday.

"Who says I want anything?" she answers back, you push your face against your pillow, wishing you could be swallowed up by sleep again and be left to bask in the warmth of your bed.

"It's nine in the morning Nat, tell me what you want now otherwise I'm going back to bed," you can hear her chuckle at your moody and tired tone.

"Well, Yelena is currently out for some school trip that's lasting the weekend and I'm in charge of looking after Fanny," you laugh at the dog's name as always, Natasha groaning at your childishness. "Really Y/n? Every time," you hear her mutter something else in Russian before continuing, "Any chance you would walk her with me? I don't want to go alone and, well, you practically love that dog more than me."

"Are you jealous, Romanov?" you tease, reluctantly sitting up in bed, back cracking in a satisfying way when you stretch a little. "I'll come on one condition; you pick me up to go to the park."

"Deal," she says, "What time do you want me to pick you up?"

"Ten?" you hear her agree to that and a bark in the background, "Tell my favourite resident of the Romanov household I love her, and I'll see her soon."

"Cyka," she mutters before saying goodbye, leaving you to get ready before meeting her.

Around an hour later, you've showered and gotten dressed into a simple outfit, pulling a hoodie on to keep you warm from the slight chill of outside. You check the living room to see your mum still on the sofa, not even bothering to wake her up and tell her you're going out. You do, however, grab a quick snack from the kitchen, only a breakfast bar as you're hoping to persuade Natasha to go with you to get food somewhere else, and start to head outside the apartment block, looking for your best friend and her car.

"Are you ready?" she calls out when you approach her car, confusing her as you walk towards the backseats with a grin on your face.

"Yeah," you answer, not wanting to ignore her and climb into the back where Fanny sits, Natasha rolling her eyes in the rear mirror as you hug the American Akita, ruffling her fur before making contact with Nat's green eyes in the mirror.

"Why don't I get a greeting like this?" she grumbles playfully, unable to hide her smile as you decide to move to sit next to her in the front.

"I can always do that to you," your hand jokingly goes to her hair, face pulling up into disgust and a grimace as you try to ruffle her red locks. "Oh, aren't you a good girl," you put on the voice people do when they talk to their pets, voice slightly higher than normal.

"Go away," she huffs out, fixing her appearance while you sit back into the passenger seat, a giggle escaping you, especially when Fanny decides to try and lick your face from the back of the car.

"You're the one who invited me," you retorted, her shaking her head at your antics before putting the car in reverse and starting the journey towards the park.

***

"Just so you know, as much as I love her, I'm not picking her shit up this time," you make clear, looking over towards your best friend as you see Fanny starting to sniff around a certain patch of grass.

"Fair enough," she mumbles, watching closely as the dog decides to walk away from that area and come back to you two, your hand instinctively scratching her side while her tongue sticks out, hot pants of breath showing in the cold air.

The three of you casually stroll around the park, Fanny wandering off occasionally to play with other dogs and coming back when called, you and Natasha talking about everything and anything. You can't stop the laugh that escapes you when you see a child fall over, Natasha hitting you softly on the back of your head as the child's parents look at you with annoyed looks.

"How on earth are you a babysitter?" she says in disbelief, walking away with you to evade the angry parents for your reaction.

"Oh, come on, that was funny," another chuckle leaves your lips as you replay the small child falling over, the way their face slowly changed from happiness to a confused and sad expression. "And, for your information, I'm great with kids, that's how I'm a babysitter."

"Doesn't seem like it," she mocks, bumping your shoulder to hers in fake annoyance as you continue to walk around.

"Y/n!" you hear voices scream your name, turning around only to feel two bodies crash into your legs, Natasha's arm stopping you from falling over.

"Mini Maximoffs!" your tone playful as you hug the two boys, looking up to see Wanda strolling up towards you with a smile on her face. Your breath hitches slightly, the sight of her making you speechless as she wears a long beige coat with a white shirt underneath, black high waist jeans accentuating her curves and long legs. Her hair frames her face perfectly as you peer up at her, now standing in front of you.

"Hello Y/n, sweetheart," she greets, your cheeks tinting pink that you're definitely blaming on the cold weather, not the older woman.

"Wanda," you manage out, giving her a shy smile while the twins notice the dog running up to you.

"Oh my god!" Tommy exclaims while Fanny sits by Natasha's side, looking up expectantly as she wants a treat. "A puppy!" Both twins move closer to the dog, looking back at their mother for permission who nods her head.

"Can we stroke it?" Billy asks Natasha who hands Fanny a treat.

"Of course, you can," she replies, crouching down and petting the dog herself. "She likes it like this," she shows the boys how to scratch the dog in her favourite way, her fur on her head being messed up slightly by the twins' small fingers.

"What's her name?" Wanda asks you as the twins busy themselves with the dog, you look back at the older woman and ignore the smirk your friend gives you.

"She's called Fanny," you say embarrassedly, Wanda's eyes widening and brows raising at the name. Her laughter makes you smile, the sound something you could listen to forever, her hand raising to cover her smile while you let out your own laugh. "I did not name her by the way, Yelena did," you clarify.

"Is that Yelena?" she asks, motioning to the redhead currently talking to her children, an indecipherable look in her eyes.

"Oh no, that's Natasha, Yelena's sister," you say before calling her name again. "Natasha," she stands up and makes her way over to you two, giving you an insinuating look before moving her gaze to the other woman, "This is Wanda, Wanda this is Natasha." They share a smile before Natasha starts to smirk, making you tempted to clamp your hand over her mouth to prevent whatever was about to come out.

"It's nice to finally meet you," she starts off, "I've heard so much about you." You want the ground to swallow you up, your blush darkening as Wanda looks to you with a teasing smile.

"Oh really?" Natasha hums in response, "I hope it's all been good things."

"Oh, it's all been good Miss Maximoff," she smiles at you while you scowl at your friend, quickly switching to a smile when Wanda looks over you.

"Why don't you show the boys the trick Fanny can do with the tennis ball?" you say to Natasha in a fake sweet voice, noticing how she's enjoying making you suffer. She raises her brow at you in a challenging way, the only reason she gives in is because of the way the boys practically buzz with excitement.

"Sorry about her," you say when the boys run off, Natasha throwing the tennis ball so Fanny can catch it in her mouth, cheers coming from the twins as they chase her playfully.

"There's no need to apologise dear," she chuckles out, walking with you to a nearby bench and sitting down, motioning for you to take the other seat by moving her head. "Billy has a present for you the next time you come over by the way," she says while a smile tugs at her lips at the way your face brightens.

"Really?" your voice shocked, teeth showing as you smile while looking at the boy currently trying to throw the tennis ball further than his brother could.

"Yeah, he's been drawing a lot lately and he said it's thanks to you," her voice is grateful, thankful that you've helped her son find something he enjoys doing.

"Not really," you try to dismiss, "I just told him whatever Vision said to him earlier was wrong." Wanda's face turns to confusion, tearing her gaze away from the twins to look at you, eyes scanning your features briefly before speaking up.

"What did Vision say to him?" there's a little coldness in her tone, you turning to look to your side, her green eyes swirling with curiosity.

"Billy didn't tell you?" She shakes her head, clearly unaware of the false information her husband had been saying, "Vision told him he should like science stuff or sports instead of art, calling it a waste of time." Her jaw clenches and you curse yourself internally for finding the action attractive.

"He really said that?" you nod your head, feeling sympathetic when you see the defeated look take over her. Fingers push her hair back, her auburn locks falling backwards as she lets out a sigh. "He didn't even tell me," her voice is barely a whisper, but you still hear it, "Billy didn't even tell me, his mother."

"Hey," you say softly but she just bites her bottom lip, a worried expression on her face as she ignores your words.

"Am I a bad mother?" you blink in response to her question, eyebrows furrowing in confusion.

"What? No," your quick to answer her, "The twins absolutely adore you Wanda, honestly, all they do when they talk about you is say how amazing you are." You watch her reaction closely, doubt still in her eyes, "It's 'my mom is so good at this' or 'Y/n did you know my mom is so cool when she does this?' all the time." A small smile tugs at her lips as you continue to tell her about how much her children love her. When you finish there's a small period of silence, Wanda letting the information sink in for a minute.

"Thank you," she murmurs, finger playing with her wedding ring, "It's just Vis would say..." Before she can finish her sentence, the boys come sprinting over, Fanny following behind and sitting at your feet.

"Mom, please can we get a dog?" Tommy asks, Natahsa following with a sheepish look.

"Please," Billy adds, both of them hugging the dog while giving their mother puppy eyes.

"I'm sorry Dorogies," she says, your eyes widening at her use of another language, "But your father is allergic to dogs." They both pout and decide to shower Fanny in affection, while Natasha looks at Wanda curiously.

"Are you Russian?" she asks, knowing that dorogies was the masculine version of darlings, you also interested in knowing the answer.

"Sovokian," she answers, you then accidentally speaking without thinking.

"You don't have an accent though?" luckily for you, the question doesn't seem to bother her.

"When I moved to America, I learnt to hide my accent, now I'm just used to it, sometimes it slips out though," she explains, and you wish you could hear her normal voice. You were about to ask another question but Natasha's phone rings, telling you it's Melina and moving away to talk to her mother.

"You don't have to hide your accent with me," you say a little shyly, not wanting to sound weird. Wanda simply smiles softly at you before moving forwards, wrapping you in an embrace that has you melting against her body. Her lips press against your forehead before she pulls back to whisper.

"Thank you Detka," your cheeks flush at the sound of her voice, her accent causing a slight rasp to her words before she pulls away, Natasha returning with a shit eating grin on her face.

"I'm sorry to break this up," you glare at her, "But Melina is inviting you over for lunch Y/n, if we're going, we need to start heading back now."

"Yeah, I can do lunch," you say, trying to think straight and calm your body down from the way Wanda's arms felt wrapped around your waist.

"It was lovely seeing you two," Wanda's words break you from your thoughts, the boys saying goodbye to Fanny.

"Bye Fluffy!" They both hug her one last time, you raise your eyebrow at Natasha while she swiftly hooks the lead on the dog and starts to walk away with you after you say goodbye to Wanda and the twins.

"Fluffy?" your voice teasing while Natasha rolls her eyes at you, groaning at your mocking tone.

"I wasn't going to have them screaming Fanny in a park and I also didn't want them to ask me what a fanny was either," laughter spills from your lips at her answer, her pushing your shoulder to move you away.

"I would have paid to see you try and deal with that," you chuckle out, wrapping your arm around her shoulders and walking back to the car with her, unaware of the set of green eyes watching you laugh and joke with Natasha, a disheartened look in them.

---

I used Google translate for the translations so if anything is wrong, please correct me (:

I hope you enjoyed :)

Please leave any thoughts/comments/votes <3 I really appreciate them!

Ao3- LoveIsAnImaginaryDagger

[keysorsomething]

Gun Run

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 |

I'm so sorry this is late !! I couldn't write it when I was intending to because I felt super bad. I hope you enjoy lol

Cross-posted on Ao3

It had been radio silence between the two of you, since the incident. There were brief, longing glances, but not much else.

He didn’t look awful, thankfully. His eyes looked tired, you could tell. After seeing him truly well-rested it was easy to see the difference, but they weren’t red and puffy. The biggest difference, however, was the beast that stayed behind him, just at his heels.

Velikan had explained it to you - a fluffy animal he had gotten after a mission with his last PMC. Sputnik, he had named it. The hyena was making quite the splash with KorTac at the moment.

You stood, far enough away to make sure König noted you weren’t standing next to Nikto, watching as Graves was absolutely mesmerized by the creature. The blondish American man had meat laid out in a stretched open palm, watching with wide eyes as the hyena licked it up.

“Man, Nikki!” Graves chirps, “You should have mentioned you had one o’ these before,” He stands, elbowing the Russian man in the kevlar-covered ribs. Nikto grunts, stepping back.

“I did not have him with me,” Nikto explains. “There was an issue with the paperwork, and he was living with a friend of ours.”

Graves opens his mouth, but he's interrupted by the loud rumbling of Velikan… rumbling. You can't be too sure of what noises he was making this far away. Graves makes a face of acknowledgment as he nods.

“So, he’s trained for the field?” Graves asks, prodding more even though he's been told not to. You're sure he's aware of what happens to people who push Nikto.

“Да, he is,” Nikto responds. “With any luck, he’ll be with us this next mission, but we are yet to be granted approval,” He continues, throwing a glare to the corner that houses the Colonel.

The Austrian man stands with his arms crossed, a glare in his eyes too. But, as Graves away from him - after hardly even looking - with a scoff, they soften briefly. Velikan pats his commander’s back, gently gripping at his shoulder with a low mumble. Graves sighs.

“Do I gotta?” He asks, and Velikan nods. “Fine.. but I am expecting to see that savanna puppy in action soldier!” He orders as he's pulled away. The rest of the Shadow Company follows as well.

“Don't call it a savanna puppy,” Mace grumbles as they pass you.

A call comes from down the hall in response, “That's what they are!” Before more muffled grunting lets you know Velikan is scolding him. Or maybe laughing. He's too far away to tell. The room is silent, still without Graves. You feel more than one pair of eyes on you, and you shuffle awkwardly.

You throw your hand up in a half-wave, slipping out of the room behind them. You’re unsure where exactly to go, trying to decide between the shooting range or the barracks. You had some paperwork to do, didn’t you? You sigh, trying to calm yourself down. It had been a long few weeks, and it was only going to feel longer.

The setup for the mission is the same as always, a messy rush of people trying to get all of their gear in order. You pull your gun off of its brace on the wall, checking it over briefly. You pull the magazine out, double-checking that it’s empty even though you know it's empty - you haven’t forgotten any details about the last time you touched it. The first time you touched him.

Your eyes flick over to the side, watching Nikto get himself and Sputnik ready. The beast shakes as he tries to put the special kevlar over its neck, and you can imagine that he’s huffing soft swears in Russian to it. Graves watches intently, seemingly wanting to help. Or at least talk to Nikto about it. Velikan seems to have a sharp watch over the both of them. It almost makes you feel bad, since he has so much on his plate without you asking him to babysit Nikto too. You can only imagine what his therapy sessions are like having to take care of Graves all of the time.

You don’t have the time to dwell, though, O’Connor’s voice cutting through as he calls for everyone to hurry the fuck up and get in line. The sound is familiar and oddly comforting, and you can't help but feel the excitement start to fill in the cracks between the stress, anxiety, and fear you’ve been feeling. Those feelings aren't abnormal before you go out, but it's been significantly worse. You usually don't have to be so cautious of how you act and who you hang out with. But König's watchful eyes and judgment of your relationships have been keeping you on edge. Even with your other coworkers, you've been more distant. You take your gun, making sure to check it out as you move to stand in your place.

"C'mon, come on!" He yells, clapping his hand as he chants to get the whole squad ready. It takes a few more minutes, but you end with the group you're going with.

König, Nikto, Izzy, Graves, Velikan, Valeria, and you. A second team was going as well: O'Connor, Hutch, Horangi, Stilletto, Oz, and Mace, but they were to be moved separately. Orders are barked to both groups, everyone piling in their respective cars. You sit in the very back, next to Izzy. In front of you is Nikto, Sputnik at his feet, and Graves, with Velikan in between them.

The whole ride is uncomfortably silent, with soft music playing over the radio occasional instructions from Valeria on where to go, and the crackle of conversation from the other car. O'Connor is hard to hear back here, and you’re unable to make out what he’s saying, only his accent. Sometimes Graves leans over to try to get Sputnik’s attention, kissing at him, only to be swatted away by Velikan.

The ride is long, but the mission should be easy and simple - in and out. It was a rescue mission, as far as you were aware. It doesn’t matter, really. Your job was to go in, secure the area, secure the thing or person, and get out. And you were damn good at your job, you’d like that on record.

You have to drive through a very populated area to get to the building holding it, compared to most of your missions, but it isn’t something that bothers you much. And it makes sense with most of whom you were placed with, like König and Graves.

König pulls through an intersection, the chatter of O’Connor coming through the hand radio attached to a pop-socket on one of the vents. It all happens at once, very fast, the car behind you is hit. You hear the pain through the radio, and the whole of your car lights up.

“Pull over, goddamn it, pull over,” Valeria snaps, swatting at the shoulders of your Colonel. Graves mutters curses, trying to squint past you and Izzy to see the other van. Velikan’s door swings open, a gun shoved out of it. Nikto’s eyes meet yours, wide and panicked. You nod at him, assuring him you’re okay.

This wasn’t going to be as easy as you thought.

Gunfire is loud - something someone who had never fired a gun before would never understand is that it transcends sound; even with the proper ear protection, big guns shake your bones and change the beat of your heart. You’ve been around it many, many times, but even now you feel how the shots from your coworkers shake up your rhythm and push the air out of your lungs. It’s the only thing that tells you someone on your side is still firing because you can’t see anyone.

You curse, falling back under the flimsy cover of a tipped-over newspaper dispenser - something you were incredibly surprised to see - and release your magazine, shoving a new one into place. With that, you’re out of preloaded mags, and any extra ones are in the long abandoned car fire of the extra car.

You’d seen Hutch get out, pulling Horangi along with him, and you were sure you had seen glimmers of Mace’s gear somewhere around, but that left three members in that car unaccounted for. You shake, taking a deep breath. This was your job. You could die, your friends could die, you had signed up for it. You cast a glance at your own abandoned car, all the doors wide open and all of its contents gone, having been ransacked.

You sniffle, taking a deep breath. You were going to die today, you take a deep breath. You have to accept it. It was hard, but you had to accept it was going to be your last day. Your last mission. You close your eyes, taking a moment to think over everything that’s happened for the past weeks. You should forgive König, even if you can’t do it to his face. You shouldn’t harbor any resentment in your last moments.

Or maybe you should, fuck that guy. You swear again, letting your head fall back against the metal. Your eyes open, looking over the gun in your hands. You start to move, shifting so you can flip back over and start firing again. Just before your head can poke back out into the line of fire, you hear a gentle whimper from behind you. You flip back, eyes wide as you see it. The fluffy, tan beast is next to you, sniffing at your legs.

“Oh, hey,” You speak, sliding back down to offer your hand. “What’s up, buddy?” You ask, looking around. “Where’s Nikto, huh?” It sniffs at your hand before brown eyes meet yours. “Take me to Nikto, okay?” You ask it, and it stands there for a moment before it sets off. You throw your gun up, over your shoulder, and rush off after it. You hear and feel as bullets wizz past you, but they mean less than the thoughts swirling in your head. Was Nikto okay? What about your other coworkers? Was it only you and Sputnik now? Fear rises in your chest at the thought that the beast you're chasing is leading you to the dead body of your.... whatever Nikto is to you.

You feel tears start to form in your eyes, but you try to force them away. Remember your training, all the years you spent trying to turn this off. You have to be solid and strong. You can't cry in the face of who you're hired to kill. There is no time to mourn the losses you feel, because by the time they sink in, you’re off to your next job. There's been so many times that stuff like this has happened.

You can't have it happen again. You're going to stop it, you have to. Your feet hurt by the time you hear it.

"There ya are, puppy!" Graves' voice calls out, and you stop for a moment. Did Graves just call you puppy? What? You stand still, barely registering how Sputnik rushes to the American man, his tail wagging quickly. Graves beams, rubbing the hyena's sides roughly. "Good puppy! Goodboy! You did very well!" He baby-talks it, which helps everything click into place. You sigh, walking forward.

It seems you’ve found some of your comrades, but several of them are still missing. Horangi seems passed out, propped up against a wall. Hutch has wrapped himself up, watching a screen intently. You see Mace on the other side of the alley, gun pointed up. Velikan is with Graves, trying to coach him in something through his muffling mask.

You pant, wiping your face as you look around, “Where’s Nikto?” You ask, And Valeria, and Izzy, and König, and O’Connor? But you don’t voice the rest of the questions, not yet at least.

“Looking for you,” Hutch responds, turning to you with a grin. Sputnik breaks past Graves to jump at the other man, sniffing at his face. Hutch puts a bandaged arm around him, hand on the hyena’s back.

“What?” You swear, looking around. Your hand goes to your mouth, biting your lips. “Do we… wait? Can we wait? I mean, they’ll come looking for us, won’t they? Whoever we’re fighting?”

“That’s where Izzy is,” Graves replies, turning to you. “On the inside, takin’ ‘em out,” He mimics aiming his gun. “Think Valeria’s there too, maybe König,” He lists off, tapping at his face.

“So, what do we do?” You ask, looking at him. He was the one who knew what to do - he had been in charge more than once, and that had to account for something.

“Wait,” Graves responds. “Regroup, until we can form a full assault,” He turns away. “Just wish everyone will stop runnin’ off.”

The sentence alone keeps you pinned to the ground where your feet are. You want to run off, you want to try and find Nikto, but instead, you fall back, sitting on the ground. You sniffle, finally letting your tears meet your eyes. It sucks, crying in front of so many people, and in the middle of the battlefield.

You don’t want to, but you can’t help it. You hide your face in your hands, letting yourself sob as everything hits you at once. Sputnik noses at you, small chuckles coming from the creature. You sob, unable to reach out to it or push him away, just sitting there as the beast sniffs your hair and hands.

“Hey, Boss,” Mace’s voice cuts through your tears. “We have company,” He backs away from his post, and everyone launches into movement. You don't see much of it, but Velikan is pulling at you by your armpits, trying to get you on your feet to get you moving.

“Sorry,” You sniffle, standing. “I’m sorry,” You let him pull you along, grabbing at your gun to keep yourself armed. You wipe your face, trying to get your head back in the game.

Keep a hold on it, keep a hold on it, you tell yourself. You walk as best as you can, leaning on Velikan for support as he moves you forward, everyone falling into formation. Graves shouts out orders from behind you and you start to stabilize yourself.

You don’t feel dizzy, tears don’t fall freely from your eyes anymore and you stand on your own feet. You set off a blaze at an enemy heading your way, turning back to Velikan before you can watch them fall.

“I have it,” You tell him, and he nods, backing off. You can tell he’s still looking at you for a moment longer, but you all push on. It seems like you're in some kind of action film, with enemies flooding you and your team over and over again.

You manage to fight your way into a house, the building providing much better cover than the alley. Everyone rushes around, Velikan and Mace rushing to clear it out, Hutch placing Horangi down, and you rush to a window, assessing the area. Sputnik trails in behind everyone, a wailing man in his jaws. He drags the man in by the back of the neck of his shirt, clearly having mauled him a little before bringing him in.

You rush to close the door behind him when something stops you in your tracks.

“Нет, Спутник,” Nikto's voice cuts through the air from somewhere behind you. Sputnik's tail wags as he shows off the prize he brought. “Нет, put him down. Лежать!” You turn, finding Nikto standing in the doorway. He seems okay, blood splattered over his gear. You drop everything instantly. The door is already shut, and you just leave your gun on the floor by it, rushing over to Nikto.

“Nikto!” You yell, grabbing him into a hug. It's a harsh one, leaving your cheek pressed against him. He goes to speak your name, but you cut him off. “Shush! I just… Long mission,” You snap, and you feel as he relaxes into your hug, wrapping his arms around you. His hand rubs your back, trying to calm you down. You sigh, thinking back over it, all of it - your relationship with him, these past few days, the mission - it was all so much, so overwhelming.

You pull yourself away from him and press your mouth into where his is under the mask, finally able to return the kiss.

[skylarsblue]

Hi could you do the slashers with a yandere s/o who also happens to kinda brutally kill people? Thanks 😊

(This is the ask where I wrote like, 500 words, and then it deleted itself. The audacity. Also, fun fact, when I redid this it refused to save. So I had to go through and copy/paste everything. I barely managed to do it all before the site crashed again. I might do more of these later on, but for now, I'm only gonna do four of them.) Trigger Warning; Descriptions of murder, blood, & gore, kidnapping(mentioned), stalking(implied) Unhealthy relationships and an unstable (Gender Neutral) Y/N. Barely proofread.

Ghostface; Danny 'Jed Olsen' Johnson (A sweet-faced & doting lover; A House Spouse)

Danny had been stressed out of his mind. More so than usual. Combinations of his day job and his "passion project" were intense enough most days, tiring but manageable for his twisted mind. Though recently, a new variable had made it increasingly more difficult. Trying to keep his hobby a secret was easy when he wasn't close to anyone, being overly cynical and critical of others made it easy to keep himself socially isolated. Keeping appearances without risk. However, conflict arose when he met someone he genuinely enjoyed the company of. You.

Danny had managed to go years without this kind of outcome. And yet, here he was, straining himself more than usual to try and keep face. All you had done was move across the street. He'd done his usual sleuthing, played his All-American mask, charmed his way into your home. It was meant to be the same thing as before. Yet somehow, against all kinds of barriers and obstacles, you'd wormed his way into his psyche and stuck there. He knew he was fucked when his thoughts would drift off in the middle of writing articles. Especially when his beloved cat decided you were good enough to like. Months of late-night talks on his lawn chairs or inviting him over for coffee and something you had baked. He mentally berated himself for liking your cooking so much. He'd even opened up to you slightly. Complaining about the woman who wouldn't take no for an answer at his job, how it gave him headaches. The way you portrayed yourself would work so well with Jed. Polite, a bit playful, helpful. It almost made Danny jealous, of himself no less. It felt ridiculous and added a tremendous amount of strife to keep you from seeing anything incriminating. He found himself exhausted as he parked in front of his house, rolling his neck, allowing it to crack loudly. The brunet huffed and took a quick glance at your home. He stopped when he noted something…off. Danny knew your schedule to a T, even if it was a bit sporadic sometimes. The typical times you woke up, what you tended to have for breakfast, hell, he knew how you did your laundry. So seeing all the lights off, curtains drawn so tightly, it sent his nerves alight. Curiosity mingling with…worry? "God, I'm pathetic." Danny huffed as he made his way over to your home. He knew every exit, every lock, every shaky window. Your front door being locked didn't deter him at all. It felt odd doing this in his work clothes, however. With skill and practice, he jumped over your small fence and approached the side door that lead into the garage. Its lock was old and rusty, easy to jiggle out of place. The man let himself in. There wasn't a sound he could discern, no TV or kitchen noises. He shook off the idea that he was concerned for you and chalked it up to only being perplexed by the sudden change in your behavior. Even spaced steps lead him to the door that went from the garage to the main portion of your home, as he walked in silently, he could faintly pick out your humming. He carefully stepped down the hallway toward the sound, seemingly from the kitchen. The closer he got the more he could smell the heavy, chemical scent of bleach and peroxide. Turning a corner revealed the only light on in your home was the small light above your sink. One you essentially never used. For once, Danny showed a bit of apprehension as he went to the doorway to your kitchen. His breath hitched at the sight. A half-cleaned scene of carnage. Blood stained the tile and a few spots on the wall. Some spots were pink and streaked, clearly wiped over. Two bottles of bleach sat on your counter. Where he often had morning discussions with you. Caramel brown eyes looked to the corner where a body lay on trash bags. His coworker, the one he'd complained about. Stabbed so many times her torso barely resembled a body anymore. He tore his eyes from the corpse and finally looked at you. Sat on the floor, pleasantly humming a song he'd shown you from a high school mixtape, back turned to him. Wiping up a plethora of blood from your floor. Dressed in one of the aprons he, almost shamefully, had fantasized you in with nothing underneath.

It took you going to dip the rag in a blood-water bucket for you to notice him. There wasn't a moment of fear or panic. He watched you gasp and then smile sweetly, standing up. "Jed! I didn't know you were coming. I would've cleaned up faster." You said, stepping closer with an aura of peace & joy. Danny looked down at your face. Blown out pupils, a gentle gaze, he could practically hear your pulse. He glanced at the body in the corner. "Oh, right." You speaking made him look back to you. "I know you complained about her, and she was already upsetting me, so I figured I could get rid of her. You already work so hard. She shouldn't be making it any worse." Your explanation was affectionate. As if you'd done him a service… And indeed you had.

"So that's why you were busy today…" Danny smiled, allowing himself to tuck you closer by the waist. He felt bubbling pride at the way you didn't hesitate to melt. "You did a wonderful job, you know that? How about I help you clean up?" He asked softly.

"Then I can reward you."

Leatherface; Thomas Hewitt (A rough-edged soft-souled partner. A protector.)

The Hewitt family was always seen as odd in the tiny town of Fuller. Luda Mae was known as a hardass and Monty certainly seemed a bit off his rocker. Charlie was seen as a jack-ass, pretty rightfully so. But the member of that family that was most rumored about, most insulted, and most disputed? Thomas Hewitt. The baby pulled out of the trash. Luda swore he was her son and would go through hell to defend him. Anyone in Fuller who knew who Thomas was had an opinion, just about every single one of them was negative. It seemed that it was just his existence to be called ugly and stupid for the rest of his life. It got a bit better when he was pulled from school at age fourteen, but the rare time that the family needed to head into town, he could hear the muttering. However, unbeknownst to Thomas, for the longest time, there was one resident who didn't view him that way. Even when you never approached him, your opinion had never changed. You'd viewed Thomas from afar for the longest time. Usually in class when you two were younger. It crushed you when he suddenly stopped showing up. You hadn't forgotten him once despite having yet to see him again. He often plagued your thoughts, even now as a young adult, working for your family. It was easier to do than trying to get a job anywhere else. Cleaning the little shop run by your father now took up a large portion of your time. The world seemed pretty dull. Keeping to yourself and day dreaming about the boy you'd never had the confidence to approach as a child.

And then, like the heavens opened up to hear you, a somewhat familiar woman wandered into the store. Ms.Hewitt. You didn't approach her right away, simply listening to her discuss what she needed from your father. You winced when your father demanded more money. Followed by Luda asking for a favor, it was all the money she had. "I'll cover the rest." You said, setting the broom against the service counter. Luda Mae blinked in awe at the sudden act of kindness and you brushed off your father's arguments. "Just give this woman the food crates, pa. It's not like they're sellin' extra well anyway." You retorted, setting some money in the register before turning to get the cart that held said crates from the back. Luda Mae found herself smiling, though it wasn't very wide, it wasn't any less genuine. "So, how we gettin' these into your truck, Ms.Hewitt?" You asked as you dragged the cart out the door. "Oh, I brought my boy Tommy. He can handle it." She explained. Unbeknownst to her, your heart began to soar.

It was then that you watched the long-lost muse to your dreams get out of the truck. He'd grown so much. At least 6'4" now, if not taller. You swallowed as you watched him saunter over, a mask covering his face. He took only a second to glance at your face before he looked down, almost ashamed. "Well, he seems like he can handle the heavy lifting, that's for sure." You commented almost playfully. It made Thomas's attention flick for a moment. "That he can." Luda replied. Finally, after years, you managed to look Thomas in the eye and give him a smile. Something you used to be so fearful of. "Nice to see you doin' well, Tommy. Missed you when ya left school." You were confident he wouldn't really remember you. Even if he had noticed the quiet kid at the back of the class, your newfound confidence almost made you seem like a new person. Still, you felt the words needed to be said.

That day made such a difference. Luda remembered you and anytime she had to make a run to town, with Thomas or not, she'd make sure to clue you in on the family happenings. News about Thomas especially. Never before had someone regarded her son with such kindness, and she was intending to try and keep it. Naturally, word got around Fuller, and you became subject to some public ridicule. Much to your father's annoyance. He took his reputation very seriously, so hearing you had been heading out to the Hewitt house didn't go over well. But, as an adult, he couldn't force you anywhere. You remained there even when Fuller's population began dwindling. Staying in the tiny house about a mile from the Hewitt home despite your family's arguing.

And when the meat plant went out of business, Thomas and Luda were insistent that "Hoyt's" idea stay in the family. That not a word of it reached you. Lest you see Thomas as a monster like everyone else. Charlie & Monty didn't care for you. Harshly opinionated and far from submissive, but Luda refused to get rid of the only person that regarded her precious Tommy with such adoration. And then one day, you showed up unexpectedly, with some canned produce you felt they could use. Staying longer than the family wanted you to. You were about to ask where Thomas was when rapid footsteps and a scream resounded from the basement. Naturally, you turned to look. A bloodied woman arising from the steps and the rev of a chainsaw. Luda felt her heart sink at what you seeing this meant, Hoyt silently rejoiced that this meant he could get rid of you. Thomas was caught off guard by the sight of you, and it gave the fleeing woman ample time to jab him in the thigh with a screwdriver.

"Damnit boy! Pay attention!" Hoyt demanded as the girl went running again. There was nothing in the way of the front door, nearly home free. Bleeding, panicked, but all she had to do was run. She'd be home free.

The sound of something swinging, a blade colliding with bone and tissue, a choking-bubbling sound, and the dripping of blood on wood floor. The house fell oddly silent as the Hewitt family looked at you. Holding an axe grabbed off the wall, the rusted blade implanted deep in the woman's skull, face rather blank. You glanced up at Thomas, then his thigh. With a gasp, you let the body drop and rushed over, disregarding the blood on his hands and the chainsaw he held. "Tommy! Goodness, that's got to hurt like hell! Here, sit down, we need to get that out and disinfected. I don't want you gettin' sick." You insisted, gently pushing him to sit in a dining room chair. Not leaving any time for the family to process what they'd watched you do as you doted over Thomas. Said man however watched you with wide eyes, some of it shock, but so much of it adoration. He'd been so afraid that you'd flee from him if you ever saw what he was doing. Yet you didn't hesitate to keep his family safe and care for him. You pecked his cheek as you got the first aid kit, his breath stuttered in response. "If you're gonna be gettin' your food this way, you're gonna need to be more careful, Tommy. I don't want to see a single drifter put their dirty hands on you again." You said as you held his face tenderly. Whether Monty or Hoyt liked it, you were very clearly staying.

The Shape; Michael Myers (A childhood friend, loyal follower. An Accomplice)

When you arrived in Haddonfield as a kid, the last thing you wanted to do was make friends as your parents so insisted. You'd moved so much and every time you were always rejected by your peers. Then your mother forced you to meet the neighbor's son. A small blond boy, only a year older, with blue eyes so dark they resembled the ocean's abyss. He was offputting and quite frankly rude. Always so blunt the few times he'd spoken. Yet somehow, the universe seemed to shove you two together more and more. Much to your dismay, you found you had far more in common with the boy than you had with anyone else. So you allowed yourself to tolerate him.

Then, with things like bullies, your mother's pressure to live up to her standards, and then your father's growing absence? He seemed to be the only thing stable enough to keep you above water. Finding it easier to cling to him, despite his growing behaviors that clearly caused concern. Overlooking things like pictures of dead animals and ultimately the admission he'd thought of killing someone. It broke you apart the Halloween he finally decided to do it. Having him dragged away from you in a cop's car, sanctioned away from society for over a decade. Not once would your mother allow you to find him, even forced you to leave Haddonfield's safety. The first town you ever genuinely settled in.

Michael's presence remained a key fixture in your life well into adulthood. Never straying from the idea that he'd come back to you. Leading you back to Haddonfield, leading a bland life, a lonesome one. Why bother knowing anyone else when they weren't him?

And then Halloween came once again. Immediately followed by bloodshed, life broadcasts of new bodies being found, the ramblings of a doctor swearing he knew who was behind it all. You'd been out at the time. Leaving a job's late shift, weaving past giddy children on the sidewalk. You loved Halloween and it always ached to experience it alone again. It was when you turned to take a shortcut that you felt the weight of a stare fall on your shoulders. One so oddly familiar and distinct. Turning revealed an impossibly tall man, broad shoulders, dressed in a stained mechanic's suit and a white mask. A bloodied knife in his hands. Fight or flight arose, steadying yourself to run, only for something particular to catch your eye. His knife. A large switchblade with a decorated handle, blue and black. One that used to settle in the hands of your best friend. "Michael?" You uttered under your breath.

He staggered when you unconsciously rose your bracelet. As if to rest if he'd remember it. And it worked, he didn't kill you. Though he certainly wasn't the Michael he was when you were kids, it didn't matter in the slightest. Despite every change, enough stayed the same to ignite the flame in your chest. You snuck him into your home, patched up wounds, and scrubbed away evidence. Managing to keep him safe under your roof even as he continued his rampage. You knew fully what he was doing. You didn't care. Not when you, out of all the people he'd killed mercilessly, you were the one allowed to wash his hair. Make him food, clean his suit, sharpen his knife. He allowed you to see his unmasked face, lean into his side with a movie playing, see the faint playful side that he swore he lost long ago.

But he was on the run, and with the continued homicides, people were bound to go poking around. One of them being a rather snoopy neighbor, a man who'd shown interest in your aloof nature. Mysterious, as he called it. He was pushy and never seemed to take a hint or a no. Hence how why he ended up in your house, allowing himself in despite your attempt to stop him at the door. Ruining a perfect night with Michael.

"You need to leave." You insisted again, gritted teeth and burning anger. "Oh relax, I'm just checking in on you! There's been a maniac going around stabbing people, you live all alone. Don't you want someone around to protect you?" It was more a statement than a genuine question. You clenched your fists and ground your teeth together. Anxiety high. Michael was still in the house, if this idiot saw him, it could mean the end of your peaceful moments with the man you'd built a life around. "I don't need anything from you. Get out." You repeated. Your neighbor scoffed a little laugh. Turning around casually. "Man, it's almost like you want to get murdered..." His voice trailed off and his shoulders tensed as his gaze fell on the Shape. Standing at the end of the hall. Mask and all. Your blood pressure rose with your adrenaline as the realization settled over your neighbor. It all went so quickly. Michael took a step forward and your neighbor turned to run. You did the same, but not for the same reason. The fool neared the front door only to be stopped by what you held in your hand. Having cut him off via using your kitchen. His throat landed right into a sharpened blade kept on the counter from dinner. Your heartbeat filled your ears as life left the man's body, sliding off the knife and falling back on the floor, face now permanently locked in a state of fear. You stood with shaky breaths and a tight grip on the knife. Slowly rising your gaze to look at Michael who stood in front of you, taking in what you'd just done. There was no guilt. He watched you take a deep breath, letting it out slowly. "Mikey, can you get rid of him? Far from here? I can't have the cops seeing anything like this near you..." You asked, voice a saccharine whisper. Michael raised his chin slightly before stepping forward. Like the man weighed nothing, he picked the corpse up and hoisted it over his shoulder. Your posture relaxed and you graced him with a smile. "I'll have brownies for you when you get back." This didn't change anything. He'd still have a safe place with you. No one would take him, not again. Not ever again.

The Problem Child; Bo Sinclair (An unassuming face, sadistic urges. An Actor.)

Out of all three Sinclairs, Beauregard was the one that left the most for his own wants. Lester had to leave for his job daily, but it was rare to catch him strolling through the neighboring cities just to enjoy himself. And of course, Vincent never left. Bo liked to stay in Ambrose but every once in and while it got stuffy. So heading off to a bar or small diner was what he usually did. A small moment to himself to enjoy himself. It was there that he met you. A new bartender at a small biker bar. With a shiny smile and a good sense of humor, he didn't see any reason he couldn't indulge in a bit of conversation with you. Turning up his charm and dusting away his secretive sadism. Of course, he was a little surprised when one day you wandered into town. He didn't notice until you entered his shop. He left the garage and saw you perched up on the counter, flipping through a magazine he knew he had hidden in his truck. Then again, he bought it in an average corner store, you could've just bought one of the same copy. You glanced up and gave him a smile. "Pleasure seein' you again, stranger. How's business been?" You asked charmingly. You didn't allow him to answer though. "Pretty slow probably, last person to come by was two weeks ago, yeah?" Bo blinked at the comment. It was true, but how you'd known that was beyond him. He shook it off as a fluke. "Yeah, you need somethin' done, sweetheart?" He questioned. You nodded. "Oil check and a new set of front tires. Weirdest thing happened, looks like someone jabbed at them. Crazy huh?" You replied. Bo swallowed and nodded. He mumbled something about you bringing your car around, a bit of a struggle with such low air in the back tires but you managed fine. Bo went into raising your car. He wasn't entirely sure why he was keeping up like he was actually going to fix your car. You were alone, it would've been easy to just deal with you now. Though, he supposed it wouldn't hurt keeping you alive a little longer. You were good with conversation. So, you made yourself comfortable seated on one of the tables in his garage. You kept up a conversation while flipping through that magazine, little mutterings about things that had been happening since he last showed up at the bar. As Bo went to take off your tires, propping the car up off the ground, you began speaking about the wax museum.

"It's really impressive, yeah? The entire building is wax. Not to mention in this heat? Your brother's got to be stressed trying to maintain it." You said. Bo paused and his shoulders tensed. He glanced behind him. "Pardon?" He asked, a suspicious glare falling over his face. You looked up from the crinkled pages with a calm smile. "Vincent's his name yeah? You two make quite the impressive duo, really. Gotta say though. I think your methods are a bit more favorable. Maybe that's just the gun though. Y'all been hurtin' for bases though. You can't seem to keep'em, huh? Just last week you had this pretty lil' red head so close to comin' home with ya." Your jovial tone and calm smile sent Bo on edge. Something rather difficult to do. His fist clenched around the X-wrench he held, patiently waiting for you to finish so he could just...whack you? Probably a poor plan but it was the best he had. "Honestly, I was surprised. But can't say I wasn't a lil' happy when she marched her happy ass away from you. Playin' hard to get and all? Annoying, right? Especially when I'm sure your brother could use her as a, hm, maybe a nun in the church? Or do you think she'd fit better as a cashier in the boutique?" You leaned forward a bit. Bo's eyebrow raised and his grip on the tool loosened a bit. Now more curious than on edge. You hummed at his lack of verbal response. Just then, a sound signaled from the back of your car, making Bo's gaze snap to it. He then glanced back at you with shock. You merely shrugged. "Eh, I'm sure you two can figure it out." Bo didn't respond to you as he popped the trunk. Barely conscious and bound, the redhead he'd failed to lure back to town. He looked back at you again as you picked up the magazine. "Oh, and by the way? The lock on your truck is a bit shotty on the back left door. Might wanna work on that." You added cheekily. After a moment to process everything that had just been laid out, Bo gave a little amused huff. He shut the trunk of your car and shook his head. "Darlin', you seem a bit off your rocker." He spoke. "Crazy even." You threw your hands up in mock surrender. "Only for you, big guy.~" The edge to your tone made his blood burn. He sighed and adjusted his hat. "Well if that's the case, maybe I can talk my brother into keepin' ya. After all, you've been a big help" He smirked at the way your pupils expanded. Bo was a playboy, he'd been able to charm just about anyone he wanted. But the crazier the person, the more fun it was.

[writtenjewels]

Couch

It was night five of Jason sleeping on the couch. Not that Salim was counting. They exchanged "Good night" as usual and Jason pulled his blanket over his body. Salim went into his room and grabbed a book. For the last five nights, it had taken him a while to feel tired enough for sleep.

He was startled when Jason re-entered his life. Salim thought at first that the American was a dream--he had certainly featured in Salim's dreams lately. But then Jason's lip curled up. "Howdy," he greeted. It was so American, so fitting with Jason's Southern accent. Salim invited him inside.

They argued over the sleeping arrangements. Salim offered a bed but Jason refused. In the end, Jason won by default: he fell asleep on the couch and Salim didn't have the heart to rouse him. It was a sleepless night for Salim. All he could think of was Jason, his shield, only a few feet away. It didn't feel real. Salim kept going into the living room and checking.

"Can't sleep?" Jason asked.

"Sorry." Salim hovered by the back of the couch. "I didn't mean to wake you."

"S'okay." Jason rolled so he could look up at Salim. It was the first time Salim had seen the man without a hat. His hair was longer than Salim expected, his fair cheeks spotted with freckles. "I'm a light sleeper," Jason told him. "You can relax."

"Oh, I, um..." Salim didn't know what to say. Jason was so quick to be a shield again. "I was just making sure..."

"I'm good," Jason assured him.

Salim hadn't been able to voice his worry: that Jason really was a dream, and would disappear. The morning came and Jason was still there, yet Salim still didn't relax. Now they were on night five and Salim had to fight the urge to check the couch. Instead, he dressed for bed and settled under the covers with a book.

About sixty pages into his book, he heard a knock. He looked up and saw Jason in the doorway; Salim hadn't closed his door.

"Jason," Salim acknowledged. "Is something wrong?"

"I was just..." Jason hesitated, his eyes wandering the room. "Thanks for lettin' me crash here."

"You're welcome." His heart was beating so fast. Salim placed both hands on his book to keep them from shaking. Jason anchored a hand on the door frame and leaned into Salim's room a little.

"That book any good?"

"I don't know." Salim gave him a teasing smile. "There's no movie on it, so maybe not." Jason let out a thoughtful noise. He lingered, his head now leaning on the frame. It was like he really could hear Salim's thoughts. Only one word, repeated desperately: stay, stay, stay.

"Well." Jason's voice broke the silence. "Good night."

"Good night," Salim returned. Jason disappeared, and Salim almost followed.

In the morning, Salim would find Jason still here. And he would wrestle through another day of wondering if he should encourage Jason off that couch--if he could ever feel brave enough to ask Jason to join him in bed.

[escapetheshark]

Lost in Paradise (Nanami x fem!reader) 18+ smut; angst

Pairing: Nanami Kento x fem!reader

Genre: smut, angst; strangers to lovers

Words: 5,300

CW: adult language; explicit sexual themes

Summary: You're in Tokyo for your sister's wedding and not having a good time until you meet the tall handsome stranger.

Masterlist | Ko-fi

The bright bustling blinding lights of the city render me dumbfounded, for one. It feels like watching a film, simultaneously in slow motion and sped up. The noise is deafening and comforting at the same time, like your favourite song played awfully loud at a bar in a town you've never visited before. Nothing makes sense but everything comes together in a cacophony of blood rushing through tired veins and arteries. Glass clicks, people chat away over the music that plays through speakers, some pop tunes from the top charts. Faces, faces and more faces emerge, re-emergence and disappear, all of them the same, yet all of them so different, each of them telling its own story, thousands of stories I will never know. And they will never know mine either. The joys of being unknown...!

It's getting late , I muse as I take one last sip of the weak beer in front of me, searching the crowd for something. Something . I don't even know what. Something familiar, something cosy. But the search is in vain. There's a large group of men in suits and ties that appear to be a lot more intoxicated than one should be at this hour. A pair of awkward lovers sharing what seems like a first date. Yet another group - of foreigners this time, loud Americans celebrating something. And then there is me, sitting alone, watching attentively as everyone else's lives unfold right in front of my eyes and my own is stagnant. I better be going now.

*

"Did you enjoy your evening stroll? Where did you go?"

"Nowhere," I blurt out, "just some bar in Shibuya."

"Met anyone interesting," she inquired, winking, a very small tinge of disdain in her voice. "Shibuya is a haven for rich businessmen, you know?"

"Yeah, that seemed to be the theme," I shrugged, uninterested and aggravated by my sister’s insistence. "You need to stop trying to set me up with anyone that breathes."

"Well, I'm trying to help." Her condescending tone, disguised as genuine concern, made my stomach turn in pure disgust. "You're thirty years old and still single!"

There it was again, the condescending tone she had mastered over the years, something she had learned from mum. Even her voice sounded nearly the same. She had also inherited our mother's beauty, which had earned her all those trophies growing up.

"I'm fine with being single," I shrugged once more, trying not to physically roll my eyes. I heard her half mutter whatever under her breath as she took an apple from the fruit bowl and bit into it.

"Well, I'll make sure to sit you next to some hot bachelor at the dinner party."

As much as I would have loved to retaliate, shout at her to leave me alone and be content with her perfect life, I couldn't bring myself to speak up, not in her home, in front of her soon-to-be husband as he slowly ate his rice porridge, completely ignoring the discussion at hand. He was a calm man, barely spoke a word, perhaps out of shyness or an unshakable desire to not be perceived - a stark contrast from my obnoxious, extroverted sister. How they came to be, I will never understand. Opposites attract, or whatever they say. She finished her apple and moved on to a cup of black coffee, completely ignoring the full table her fiancé had set for us: bread, jams, peanut butter, chocolate and hazelnut spread... Something about needing to lose a couple of kilos to fit in her wedding dress. I absentmindedly grabbed a slice of toasted Hokkaido milk bread and slathered salted butter all over it, earning a bashful little smile from my brother-in-law, proud of his northern Japanese dairy heritage. He told my sister she looked perfect as she was and there was no need to diet so much, but she was quick to shrug him off. Before I could witness any further domesticity, the man got up, pecked her lips and left the house in a hurry, leaving the both of us in awkward silence.

“Any plans for the day?”

“I hear Roppongi Hills is nice,” I half-sighed, taking a sip of my coffee. “I might go check that out.”

“Don’t forget about the rehearsal dinner tonight, at six,” she reminded me, even though I hadn’t forgotten at all. How could I forget about something she constantly mentioned? “Don’t be late and wear something decent, his parents will be there.”

“Yes, sir,” I mocked, rolling my eyes in disdain. The tone of her voice when she spoke to me always sounded so crude, so uninterested, like a queen addressing her subordinates. She’s always been the pretty one, the overachiever, getting married at twenty-five to a rich banker and living in a gorgeous flat in central Tokyo while I did nothing but mope around, single and fat and eating whipped cream straight from the can on a Friday night. I had forgotten how miserable my existence should make me feel until I arrived at my sister's beautiful two-bedroom apartment two miles away from Roppongi Hills, where she lived with her kind and loving and filthy rich almost-husband who worshipped her like the goddess she’s always thought she was. Should I hate myself a bit more?

*

Warm hues bathed the city as I made my way towards the restaurant, walking slowly and taking in the scenery of vibrant fleeting lights, concrete jungle where some dreams are made and some come to die. A small crowd gathered around an unassuming entrance, decorated with traditional Japanese paper lanterns - which I learned are called chochin . Looking at the GPS, it seemed like the small wooden door really was the restaurant my sister had picked for her first rehearsal dinner (first of a few, apparently, all of which I’d have to attend). I scanned the small crowd for any kind of familiar face and soon, the realisation hit me that I was very underdressed for the occasion in my simple black flared jumpsuit, black moccasins and the small white Dior bag my sister had given me for my birthday years ago, just to remind me that she’s well off. On most other occasions, my outfit could be considered put together but, next to all these people sporting intricate dresses, perfectly tailored suits and stilettos, I looked like an 18-year-old in their first job interview. Panic settled in as I approached them, their voices distant as if my head was being held underwater. I stood awkwardly near the thirty or so people, trying not to mingle, my eyes searching for my sister or her fiancé, but not finding them. Instead, a low male voice made itself clear right behind me. 

“I take it you’re the bride’s sister,” he said. I slowly turned around to find a tall man with distinct blonde hair smiling calmly. “We’ll be seated soon.”

“Oh hello. Yes, that’s me,” I offered a lopsided grin, feeling my stomach turn in hunger but also in discomfort. “I feel like she didn’t tell me anything about this dinner although I’ve been hearing about it for months.”

A small old man slid the bamboo door open and guided all of us inside his little restaurant, cosy yet very expensive-looking. I imagined the tables had been rearranged to accommodate our event, as well as the decorations which seemed a bit too bridal for a regular upscale restaurant. Each of the six tables was decorated with a gorgeous flower arrangement, porcelain dishes and bamboo chopsticks neatly set up on the table. It seemed odd that such a homely place was chosen for a posh wedding-related dinner but, knowing my sister, this little family restaurant was probably one of the most expensive places in Tokyo. Near each of the plates rested a name card, so I went around and searched for mine, with my name written in the Roman alphabet and, underneath it, in katakana. I took my seat and noticed that, to my left, was the man I had met just five minutes prior at the entrance, his place card reading Kento Nanami. Our eyes met once more but, this time, I spared him more than a quick glance. His hair, under the dim warm light of the restaurant, seemed to be a very natural shade of blonde and his eyes, hooded and hazel, had an interesting shape to them. He was a handsome man, I thought to myself, observing the way his large veiny hands rested atop the table, his fingers moving slightly in restrained nervousness.

“Looks like you’re stuck with me,” he chuckled. I didn’t have time to respond as my sister and her fiancé made their somewhat dramatic entrance, causing the entire room to gasp as I rolled my eyes in annoyance. The couple sat side by side at the top of my table, his parents across from myself and Nanami. 

“Could be worse,” I whispered to the blonde man, receiving a gentle kick to my leg in response as he shushed me with his facial expression only. I couldn’t help but exhale sharply, containing my laughter. 

There was sushi, sashimi and several Japanese delicacies I had never even heard of, all of it exquisite and fresh. The plum wine ended up being a favourite and I could feel my head become heavier with each glass, one more bit of food down in a semi-fruitless attempt at staying fully awake and in charge of my body. Time went by in a daze and, somehow, I blinked once and most tables were empty, except for my own. Instinctively, I glanced over to my left, seeing the tall man sip on something - booze? Water? My sister, her fiancé and his parents shared a quiet conversation as Nanami checked his phone. I figured my absence wouldn’t be felt and wordlessly excused myself to use the lavatory, the sudden cold air reminding me that sobriety was long gone. Sometime between the fifth and eighth glass of the saccharine plum wine, my brain had become foggy. 

“I don’t think your sister would approve of this behaviour, miss.” I turned around, cigarette dangling between my lips and lighter in hand, to find Nanami standing there, in all his six feet glory, hair and suit immaculate, as he took a long puff of his own fag. 

“You’re one to talk,” my words came out slurred and not as cool as I had planned in my head. Still, he let out a heartfelt chuckle. Maybe it was the booze, but the bass in his voice vibrated through my core. “Is she still sucking up to the in-laws?”

“I believe so,” he shrugged before puffing out the smoke. “You don’t seem to be close.”

 “Yeah, we’re not,” I sighed, taking another drag of my cigarette, swallowing the smoke, my eyes darting up to the night sky. There was far too much light pollution to be able to see the stars but, on the other hand, Nanami was right there looking beautiful and tall. Maybe it’s the booze, but I would definitely - 

“You should go home,” his voice interrupted my ungodly thoughts, thankfully. 

“I’d love to, but my ride doesn’t seem too keen.”

“It’s a twenty-minute walk, you’ll be fine,” he replied, taking a couple of steps towards the main street. Incredulous, I followed behind him, mostly out of curiosity and drunkenness. It had become significantly colder and I shuddered, goosebumps all over my exposed arms. Like a true gentleman, Kento simply draped his jacket over my shoulders and continued leading the way through streets I vaguely recognised. “I’ve messaged your sister, she knows you’re safe.”

“Aren’t you a gentleman?” My legs had started to give out and I nearly collapsed but, luckily, I found myself being led inside the house. “Goooood niiiight.” 

I felt myself drift off as if floating on a particularly puffy cloud and the next time I opened my eyes, my head felt twice its size. Has the sun always been this bright? The smell of bacon that would normally cause me to salivate, this time felt vomit-inducing and I was on the verge of exploding right there, on the luxurious leather sofa in my sister’s Tokyo apartment. Outside her ceiling-to-floor windows, the sun beamed gorgeously; yet, I couldn’t bring myself to appreciate it over the headache that had started to form in my temples, pulling all the way to the back of my head. Last night was a bit of a blur - something about rich people eating decadent food in a far too expensive restaurant, some kind of sweet alcohol, a tall blonde man… 

The following days all blurred together in a haze of wedding preparations, my sister raising her voice at people randomly, her fiancé apologising on her behalf, flowers and final touches on what was meant to be my sister’s big day, the best day of her life, her life-long princess dream. Thankfully, she had been so busy bossing people around and making florists cry that she barely had time to be unpleasant towards me. Even her fiancé, usually very calm and collected, had started to show signs of losing his mind a little. I often wondered what a man so gentle and soft-spoken could have seen in someone as entitled as my sister, but opposites seem to attract - at least in this case. I’d bitten my tongue more than once to avoid telling the man that he deserved better, he deserved someone who gave him less shit and wasn’t as cunty as my sister. But I’m sure he knows what he has to deal with and perhaps she’s a lot softer with him than she’s always been with me, who knows. Soon enough, however, I was being reminded of yet another rehearsal dinner - this time, a more important one - that was to take place right there, in the apartment, with just a handful of guests. Apparently, this was the last chance to make changes to catering or anything related to the reception, so both my sister and her fiancé seemed very on edge. I found it quite odd to be so shaken by a dinner party - a glorified dinner party. Still, it would give me another chance to mingle with the tall blonde man from the other day. Unfortunately, the memories of the previous rehearsal dinner had started to trickle back in and I was starting to think he wouldn’t want to be anywhere near me.

“Try wearing something decent this time,” my sister told me as I ate my lunch, which she had skipped yet again (“My last dress fitting is fast approaching and I really need to fit!”) Sure, the jumpsuit wasn’t the classiest thing in the world, but I didn’t think it looked bad at all…! But as she became more and more aggravated, I thought I’d make a bit of an effort to not piss her off. “And you’re not drinking.”

“Yes, mother,” I sighed in annoyance, rolling my eyes to the back of my head so hard I saw a glimpse of my brain. “Will do.”

Upstaging my sister would be more of a mistake than not looking good enough but I managed to pick out a dusty rose sheath dress with a V-neck, not too deep to avoid showing too much cleavage (which would certainly upstage my sister’s smaller breasts). I merely curled my hair a little, letting it drape down my shoulders and borrowed my sister’s makeup to create a simple look that would certainly be nowhere near as good as hers, given that she went to cosmetology school and all. Still, when looking at the final product in the mirror, I couldn’t help but feel cute - a feeling somewhat foreign to me, growing up as the fat and ugly older sister. Maybe the tall blonde man would even like the view. God, that’s so dumb , I laughed to myself before the doorbell rang. Soon enough, the small apartment (yet, bigger than most flats in the area) would be filled with chatter, smooth jazz background music and even laughter. His parents were there, elegant and poised as always, along with his older brother and the tall blonde man, whose name I’ve forgotten, most likely due to all the alcohol I ingested the last time I met him. Seeing his family and best friend sitting at the table like that, it hit me that my sister must have been incredibly lonely in her gilded Tokyo prison. All she had was her husband and some casual acquaintances from work - definitely people she could hang out with and have a few drinks, but not really close friends. She’d given up the familiar scent of home for a completely new city, a giant city where she knew nobody and everybody seemed so distant. Sure, she’s still awfully privileged but it must be tough… 

“Fancy seeing you here.”

If I had balls, they would have dropped five thousand feet upon hearing that familiar voice, enveloped by a warm, smoky scent with citrusy notes, so pleasant on my nostrils. And that face, equally as pleasant, smiling at me. I could have tried to keep my cool but I let my enthusiasm show with an ear-to-ear grin. Without warning, the man held my hand in his, lifting it up to his lips and giving it a gentle kiss, his hazel eyes on mine. Heat pooled at the apples of my cheeks, as well as other spots I shall not name. 

“It’s my pleasure,” I giggled like a schoolgirl. Before the interaction could go any further, we were being invited to take our seats at the table. A small thin man in a black chef’s coat served the food, which I imagined he prepared himself, careful to plate it beautifully and up to my sister’s insane standards. The food seemed never-ending, as well as the drinks. I did exercise caution, though, trying to avoid a catastrophe similar to the previous week’s.

Once again, I found myself outside accompanied by the blonde man - named Kento, as he reminded me. Both of us (mostly) sober, cigarette in hand, huffing and puffing in the balcony, overlooking the city lights. Inside, my sister and her newfound family seemed to be getting along. But none of that mattered when I had the most beautiful view: Kento. And well, Tokyo. 

“So, when are you going back home?”

Home , he said, as if I really have one. Of course, he probably just meant to ask when I’m flying back but, perhaps the little bit of alcohol I was allowed at dinner was taking its toll. Or perhaps, the mesmerising city lights made me feel more sentimental than I should have been feeling. It took me a moment to reply, but I finally came back from my quick joyride into my own mind and I shrugged: “I guess after the wedding when they go on honeymoon.”

He merely nodded, looking off into the distance at the hustle and bustle a dozen metres below our feet. A comfortable and warm silence took over as we gazed into the night sky, unable to see any stars, but imagining them was still fun.

“You know, where I’m from, you can see the entire galaxy when the sky is clear,” he suddenly broke the silence, his voice softer than before. I chuckled at how adorable he sounded, slightly out of character for such a well-dressed and pristine man.

“You’re not from Tokyo?”

“No,” he replied, his eyes still trained on the night sky. “I’m from a small town in Hokkaido.” I merely nodded, pretending I even knew where Hokkaido was, ashamed of myself for not knowing anything about my brother-in-law’s birthplace. “We’re famous for dairy products and milk bread.” The low chuckle he let out somehow hit right in my core and I looked up at him, his calm demeanour contrasting with his chiselled cheekbones and serious face. I found myself wondering if he’s always looked this serious. “My mother is from Denmark, but I’ve never been.”

“I guess that’s where the blonde hair comes from,” I absentmindedly commented, causing him to laugh. He looked at me for a moment and my knees wobbled a little. He’s very handsome , I thought to myself. But mostly, very real. Attainable, gentlemanly, soothing. His presence felt like a warm towel after swimming in the cold ocean. I remembered him mentioning he worked in an office and did some sort of boring, unimportant job that he hated and how that made him feel utterly useless in the grand scheme of things. Looking at him, though, so tall and proper, his suit immaculate and his hair so neat, I never would have guessed someone so put together could struggle so much. He has that in common with my sister.

Looking through the glass door back at the inside of the house, I could see the in-laws leaving, being sent off by my sister who looked incredibly worn out. Her fiancé slid the glass door open to greet me and Nanami, mentioning that they would go to bed early, “but feel free to stay up,” he said. Truth is, I didn’t want to go to bed, or anywhere else. I wanted to stay right there, on the balcony, with that man I had so recently met but had somehow stolen my heart. Perhaps it was just the loneliness washing over me like a tidal wave, but I truly was ready to give myself to this man, maybe too eager to just feel something real, something palpable. It’s been so long…

“I’m still lost here,” he sighed. “In this giant fucking city.”

“How long have you been here for?”

“About… five years?” 

Five years. Five years and he still feels lost. 

“She’s been here for five too, I think,” I commented, referring to my sister. “They met at some college party when he was studying abroad, even though she likes to pretend it was far classier than a drunken make-out session.”

He chuckled again, this time turning to face me, his face illuminated by the dim light coming from inside the apartment. I wondered if I should kiss him, even though we were both quite sober. He seemed to read my mind because, within a second, his lips hovered just above mine, his eyes closed. I wasn’t sure what to do - if I should just let myself go, just this once. However, when I was about to go for it, I felt his lips ghost over my neck instead.

“W-what are you doing?”

“Living a little,” he murmured in my ear, trailing gentle kisses down my neck and back up. “If you’ll allow me.” His kisses stopped so he could face me, his cheeks rosy. I don’t remember seeing him drink much besides a couple of glasses of wine.

“Are you drunk?”

“No, I’m just quite needy,” he smiled. “But maybe I should just go home.”

Watching him leave, my heart skipped a beat and I found myself tugging at his sleeve like a desperate little girl. I hated myself for it but, at the same time, my own neediness had started to eat me up alive. There was a gorgeous man in front of me, willing to share his heartbeat with mine, even if it was only a one-night thing. Who gives a shit? Live a little…!

“Please-”

“Please, what,” the smirk that adorned his beautiful face seemed almost devilish, paired with the hint of lust in his eyes. 

“I’ve been sleeping in my sister’s spare room,” I blurted out, incapable of making it any more straight to the point. “The bed is big enough…”

“Big enough for what?”

He seemed to be enjoying seeing me all flustered, shyly dancing around the subject at hand. Before I could come up with a reasonable answer to his question, an answer that seemed sensible and in no way inappropriate, his lips were brushing every so gently against my earlobe and his voice came as a soft whisper: “show me, then.”

To say that my heart was pounding in my chest was an understatement. It was rushing, crushing my ribs as it nearly exploded and imploded, Kento’s lips finally crashing into mine with the force of a rogue wave. It’s sloppy, almost too wet, too eager. Our teeth clash and I feel him laughing into my mouth before pulling away, his face flustered. He leans in again, his hand cupping my chin and, this time, the kiss is much more tender, less hungry, delivered with more expertise, as if he was trying to make up for the messy first kiss. I forgot where I was when I was and all I did was to be, to just exist in a state of nothing but bliss as Kento’s warm tongue enveloped my own and his fingers found their way around my skin, mapping it out with all the care in the world, just in case he gets lost in me. I didn’t think I would find anything in Tokyo but finding Kento was more than enough to satisfy my wanderlust. 

“Why are you so needy,” I teased as his mouth found its way around the supple skin of my neck, trailing open mouth kisses down to my collarbones. 

“It’s been a while,” he began, stopping his ministrations simply to look into my eyes with a longing I was barely familiar with. “Since I’ve felt anything other than despair.”

I opened my mouth to speak, but couldn’t conjure up the right words as I saw his eyes fill with emotions. He kissed me again, and each kiss felt different from the previous one, but all of them felt filling, like a warm meal on a cold winter’s day. This man I barely knew somehow felt more welcoming than anything I’d experienced in Tokyo over the past couple of weeks - I was seen, I was heard, I was the centre of the world even for a minute. His nimble fingers found their way around the streets and alleys of my body, lingering in the best spots, no need for a guidebook. In the back of my mind, the thought that I’d probably never see this man again after the wedding bore holes into my soul, even if my body refused to acknowledge them. What poetic injustice to be so easily found only to be lost again…!

“Do you like that?”

I was saved from my depressing inner monologue by his soft voice whispering in my ear, coaxing me to moan gently, nodding quickly when his fingers curved a certain way into me. “M-more,” I pleaded and he was happy to oblige. Memories of less-than-stellar encounters with men as handsome as this one played in my head for a brief moment before I could really enjoy his ministrations, his free hand coming to press at my mouth in an attempt to keep me quiet. Everything he did brought nothing but pure euphoria. Yet, when I suggested returning the favour, he would simply mewl out next time… There will probably not be a next time, I cried to myself, but my cries got caught up in my throat when his lips pressed against mine once more, again and again, his body moulding into mine so perfectly they could have been made for one another. All of it was tender, gentle, loving as lovers do. It didn’t even occur to me that he would probably be gone in the morning, leaving me to wonder whether I just had a wonderful dream. 

Much to my dismay, I did wake up alone in a bed that seemed too immense, even though it was simply a double bed. However, before I could sulk at the thought of being left alone like some kind of bad hookup, like when I was nineteen, Kento walked into the room, already fully dressed in last night’s suit. 

“Your sister knows we both slept here but she thinks I slept on the sofa, so play along,” he chuckled, placing a kiss on my forehead. “Please call me.”

*

The date approached quicker than I had expected and things became chaotic amidst final preparations for the most important day of my sister’s life, according to her. She was so caught up in the rush of it all that she didn’t even ask about Kento, she barely spoke to me about anything that wasn’t her wedding - which is understandable, I thought. I would occasionally sneak out to meet up with Kento at some hole in the wall pub where we would drink a little, talk a little, kiss a little. But right when I had started to accustom myself with this new routine of seeing him every other day or so, kissing in some dark place for a while until we were separated by our own responsibilities and speaking via text message during the day - it all came to an end. The wedding day was my last chance to spend time with him before I had my flight back home. 

“You two seem to have hit it off,” my sister laughed, a little bit tipsy, the strap of her white dress falling down her shoulder. I fixed it for her with a smile on my face, realising that no matter how bitchy she gets, she’s my own flesh and all the bad blood between us seemed to boil down to mostly being pitted against one another from an early age: by our own family members, friends, people around us in general. But none of that mattered, not when she looked stunning, glowing, celebrating the love I never realised she had in her.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I felt my face heat up, looking down at the way her dress flowed down her tall body. “Kento is just a nice guy.”

“If you say so,” she laughed, her face rosy, eyes wide, like that time when we were kids when we found the key to the box where our parents hid all the sweets. “I’ve known Kento for years now and I don’t think I’ve ever seen him smile as much.”

Curiosity getting the best of me, I peeked over my shoulder to see the man standing next to the buffet table, picking up a mini éclair and smiling like an idiot. A gorgeous idiot. An overwhelming sense of calm washed over me and I had to fight the tears from rolling down my face. Happy tears, tears of a cosmic joy I don’t think I’ve ever experienced. It’s as if the entirety of my life, all its ups and downs, all the pain was floating in a pool of salt and sage and, for once, I could allow myself some feelings. And boy, did I have a lot of those…!

“I love you, you stupid slut.” On hearing those words, the tears I had been doing such a good job at keeping at bay just gained a life of their own as I embraced my sister tightly. “I love you too, you idiot whore,” I laughed, her boobs pressing so hard against my chest I thought she was going to burst. Maybe she did, maybe she burst with love on that day. And honestly, so did I. Kento and I shared our last kiss and, before I knew it, I was on a plane back home, my bag full of memories, party favours from the wedding, cheap Japan souvenirs and Kento’s shirt he had given me as a parting gift. Everything felt different like the world had gained new weird colours I’d never seen before - colours that didn’t seem to fade even in the darkness. So many faces around me, so many stories, even here in my hometown, far smaller than Tokyo. All these stories I would never know and some of them were meant to tangle with mine.

[nerdyvocals]

Final round of episode quotes as @look-at-those-niceass-rocks and I finished our final watch party. Once again, the cast and crew are in the house, so @saveourpinks, please enjoy. (You can find previous posts with more unhinged quotes here and here)

Honorable mention from before we actually started, them waking their husband up with: wake up, it's time for me to see gay shit

Second honorable mention, a conversation had while I struggled with my audio: Them: I tried to show [Husband] Merely Players last night but he was too tired Me: I can't believe your husband is homophobic Them: I AGREE Husband, distantly: I don't deserve this!

(about Buddy) God his shoulders, he's built like a Dorito

(this is specifically in reference to episode 8 but honestly, this was said multiple times throughout our watching) Me: WHAT DOES ANY OF THIS HAVE TO DO WITH COMMUNISM??? Them: It's the 50s! If it ain't American, it's communist!

Me: I love that Buddy's dad's name is Dick Them: It was a choice

(In reference to Blandiels) He makes me SO uncomfortable. Like I know that that's the point but he's so slimy-NO NO STOP, STOP KISSING HER, FUCK-!

(roughly three minutes of us screaming over Lydia's Woman Scorned (tm) dress, followed by another three minutes of us laughing at the faces everyone was making when I pause the video)

(about Susan's mom) Me: Heinous fucking bitch Them: What. A raging. CUNT.

(after we both spent a Hot Minute thirsting over Cynthia dancing on the car) Them: I talk a big game but if I was within five feet of this person, I would be just staring and stammering Husband, distantly: We know honey Them: SHUT UP

(both of us wheezing over CGI!Richie)

Cops: *show up* Us: *John Mulaney voice* SCATTER

Them: NOT THE LINE I'VE LOST THE ONE I LOVE THE MOST AS SHE PICKS UP OLIVIA'S JACKET Me: They are simply In Love

Them: He's gonna do something stupid, I can feel it. Me: You don't know the half of it! Them: He's gonna propose to a teenager! (okay maybe they do know the half of it, fuckin' prophet)

Me: *reading off episode titles as it starts storming where I am* And this one is called You're Dropping Out of Rydell- thank you dramatic thunder???

(honorable mention, me being unable to tell what was real thunder and what was from the episode)

Them: I'm not emotionally ready for this Me: Me neither and I've seen it like eight times already

Nancy: *dramatic exit* Them: She's so dramatic and I respect her and only her

Me: I love you singing along to a theme song with no lyrics Them: Sometimes I just gotta make funky little noises!

(About Nicholson) I am going to break that man's ball sack with a driver.

Them: It's giving pouty little bitch Me: Which one? (referring to Buddy and his dad) Them: Yes

Cynthia: *walks in in Richie's Jacket* Me: Hello my name is Single and Gay Them: I am not single but I am gay and I think... I don't think, I have no thoughts, head empty

(About McGee, then the scene transitions to Daniels) Them: The only adult in this school I respect- I AM GOING TO KILL HIM WITH MY BARE HANDS! Me, wheezing: What about your human hands? Them: THOSE TOO

(said in the most disgusted voice I've ever heard) Of course he likes Walt Whitman

Them: [Husband], I'm killing the pedophile, wanna help? Husband: Let's be honest, do you really need my help? Them: Someone's gotta drive the car.

Them: "Feelings central?" I bet you were feeling sensual when you were making out with Olivia-LYDIA on your couch earlier Me: ...You good there? Them: The names are too close

(Face to Face begins) Ah, dramatic acapella is my gender

Me: Once again, love how much you hate Buddy Them: He's had so many chances to earn my respect and he has done nothing!

Guardian Demon: *appears* Them: What. The fuck. Is happening? Me: BEAUTY SCHOOL DROPOUT BABEY

(@ Buddy) Them: He's not a total ding-dong. Just like 80% Me: He did just thank her (Susan) for having sex with him Them: ...85%

(About the Red Sox analogy) Cynthia giving me Gender Euphoria with one sentence

Nancy: *talking about love stories, mentions Shy Guy* Both of us: *Cackling at the full-body never mind Cynthia does*

Nancy: Tell anyone of my vulnerable nature and I will deny it until the day I die! Them: FUCKING MOOD like I know I was literally also just crying but we're gonna move past that, I'm a bad bitch again

Me: Finale time! Any thought or predictions before we get started? Them: Leonard gets arrested and as he's being taken away, he gets hit by a semi truck- Me: What is this, Mean Girls??? Them: Yes! McGee punches the principal in the face and defeats him in blood combat and cements her place as principal- Me: *slowly dissolving into horrified laughter* Them: Cynthia gets to kiss Lydia again, which is all I really need to be happy, and terrifying CGI Richie comes back and does the Macarena! Me: *can't start the episode for five minutes because I'm laughing too hard*

(Ten seconds in) PAUSE THIS I HAVE BEEF THERE IS NO FUCKING WAY OF GETTING MARRIED THAT QUICKLY IN A CATHOLIC CHURCH

(after rant) Me: Yeah but the tensions wouldn't be as high if they had six months to stop the wedding! Them: ...there are two wolves inside of me, one says valid, and one is formerly Catholic and Upsetti

Me: I want a shirt that says "I have two wolves inside of me, one of them is Catholic" and nothing else Them: *WHEEZE*

Cynthia: He's just. Some guy. Both of us, in sync: HIT HIM WITH YOUR CAR

"Old Soul" is groomer for "Fuckable"

(@ Gil climbing in through the window) Me: On the one hand, I'd fold, on the other? Terrifying! Them: YES! Me: Although I guess if I had the rapport with someone that they have?? Maybe?? Like good in media, bad in real life. Them: Gil? Yes, absolutely. Edward Cullen? Fuck no! The two genres of climbing through my window

(after the drag race) YET ANOTHER THING BUDDY DID NOT EARN

Me: Hey, do you have tissues? Them (afraid): ...should I get some??? Me: Maybe Them: I don't think I have any in the house??? Me: Ah! You're fucked!

*ten minute interlude of us crying over the Coming Out Scene, discussing what it means to both of us, and how furious we are of future generations not getting to see the best queer rep of our lifetimes if this show doesn't get saved. On that note, sign the petition if you haven't already.*

THEY STARTED BY STEALING A CAR THEY WILL SAVE THE FRIENDSHIP BY STEALING A CAR

Oh someone please hit hi- YESSSSS!!!

(at the start of All In) Me: She (Cynthia) is going to cry Them: I'm going to cry Me: I'm already crying

Me: Lydia is stronger than I am I would already be on my knees. (note I use a cane and sometimes a wheelchair, if I am on my knees I Will Not be Getting Up)

Me: Hopelessly Devoted walked so this song could fucking run Them: I WAS ABOUT TO SAY THE SAME THING

Pink Ladies: *Offer Hazel a jacket* Them: *aggressively close to the mic* That sounds very gay I'm in

Them: I cannot take my eyes off Jane. Like they are all very beautiful right now but there's something about her- Me: It's the bisexual energy Them: ...Dammit, you're right

Rizzo: We'll start our own gang! Them: With blackjack and hookers!

(Introduction of Frankie Zuko) Them: I'm sorry, HUH???

(As credits roll) Me: So, how we feelin'? Them: Normal, I am so normal, I am feeling so fucking normal about this. Me: Thoughts? Them: *incoherent screaming*

We had some much fun doing these, we decided to keep a quotes list for more movie nights. Next up, Julie and the Phantoms!

[rysko]

Kings of Spades - Part 3 l Luca Changretta x M!OC

Summary: An Italian-American and a Polish jew walk into a shitty bar... Previous chapter Next Chapter

Warnings: some swearing

A/N:The fourth chapter is slooooowly on it's way, but i'm now stuck in the wrote-too-much-at-once-and-now-im-tired loop, but i'll try to get it done before the week is over :> There will be more action then (and waaaaaay more of our main pair interacting). For now, have a short part 3 of "Local Polish boy not having a good time" this whole fic is going to be a... maybe not a SLOW burn, but a medium burn, a candle wick, if you will. Anyways, enjoy!

It’s as public as it gets, he thinks. A clean, but still crowded bar outside Small Heath. As soon as Juliusz steps foot inside, he’s hit with a scent of cigar smoke and a hint of liquor, perhaps spilled somewhere in the corner. It's usually more lively on the weekends, but Juliusz figured it's busy enough on a simple work-day evening. The usual crowd of after-work drinkers and young couples provided a noise to the place, one that was more of an ambience to a conversation, not an added stimulus. He leaned against the bar, ordering a scotch to mope over while waiting on a guest he hoped would perish before getting here.

He’d arrived before Changretta, at least he hoped so, Juliusz purposely came half an hour earlier than he told the Italians to. It wasn’t a friendly invitation, in his briefcase he found a hotel room number with Changretta’s initials written below. Juliusz took Polly's advice and called it. He simply told them an address, date and to meet him, hanging up the phone immediately afterwards. 

"Make him trust you. You'll do fine." Polly said as she stopped by his office at midday. When Juliusz asked her what makes her so sure of it, she chuckled. "You're both smartass men, have a drink with him, have a laugh, be yourself for once Julius."

"And that'll work?" Juliusz sighed and finally looked up from some contracts with the labour movements. Who knew working part time as a double agent didn't erase day-to-day work.

"We'll see. That's one thing i can't fortell." She smiles slyly, then turns stern. "If he tells you any plans-"

"I'll be sure to update Thomas." he cuts her off , slowly being done with this conversation. He doesn't need any reminders of what plans he has today.

He downed his drink in one gulp, not focusing on the taste, earning a raised eyebrow from the barkeep, who shortly returned to his duties. The lawyer put down his glass with a thud and brushed his hair back, resting both his elbows on the surface of the bar. After a moment, he stood up straight and tried to appear composed. God, what a mess he was from the moment he called the Italians up to sitting in this bar. Juliusz walked around the office like any second someone would come around the corner and strangle him, and he wouldn't be quite sure if it was a greasy Italian or a brutal Brummie.

He lasted a few hours before Tommy sent him home, on account of “you're not yourself right now, go rest up”.  Rubbish, Juliusz thought. He busied his evening with a short visit at Arthur's place, having countless cigarettes and a few drinks with his friend, and a conversation that fortunately distracted Juliusz for a while. 

"Linda, hey." Juliusz greeted her with a small smile, Linda seemed tense when he saw her approaching the door, only relaxing when she noticed the familliar face of a family friend. "Is Arthur there?"

"Yes, come in Julius, it's freezing out." She opened the door wider with her foot, only to reveal her holding Billy, who she immediatly put in Juliusz' arms.

"Billy-boy! I've missed you." He cooed at the baby as he followed Linda. "Are you bigger or have i gotten weaker?" He muses half-heartedly to the child as he enters the main room.

"Knowing the two of you, both." Arthur approached him with a smile on his face and a whiskey in his hand. "Linda told you weren't looking so good at work." He sounded curious as they sat down, Arthur with Billy on his lap and Juliusz opposite them. The lawyer takes a sip of whiskey.

"I'm all right Arthur, really." He sighs. "I'm allowed to be a bit distracted from all this Italian business, eh?" He said, hoping his friend would either believe him, or give him a break. It would probably be the second option, Arthur's more perceptive than people give him credit for. Arthur studied him for a bit, then smiled sadly and poured them both more booze.

"Billy said his first word." He changed the subject.

"Let me guess, fook." Juliusz tried his best to mimick the accent.

"Yeah, you fookin' wish." Arthur grumbled, but couldn't help but chuckle. "It was 'chickens'. My boy said 'chickens'. Linda said how she missed 'em and he said it after her." He ruffled Billys' blonde hair gently, and Juliusz smiled.

Billy grew, as the Polish saying goes, like on yeast, and it's always precious to see a man like Arthur grow soft just for this one being. His usually sharp features getting softer with a smile, his rough hands made for fighting and killing, now handling the child with such softness and carefulness. It's always precious to Juliusz, to see people turn softer right in front of your eyes, it's a form of trust you don't get from a lot of people, even from himself. It's closure, though for some, a sign of weakness. It definetly is in this line of work. Arthur always seemed like a good man at heart, really, or at least, as good as any man in this godforsaken family could be. As much as Juliusz missed his friend in Small Heath over the year, you could clearly see that country life suited him.

Before Christmas Juliusz and Arthur only sporadically saw each other, on account of the pole's association with Thomas and his company, and the bad blood the two brothers shared. The vendetta forced the family together again, and even though it came with its fair share of blood,  poor John , it made Juliusz feel like a part of life in Birmingham came back. He once again could see the Brummie family bicker, the ever-growing pack of kids running around and meet his closest friends. However, at the back of his mind, a speck of doubt lingered, does Thomas  really  know what he’s doing? Is he underestimating Changretta? Is what Juliusz is doing worth risking his skin? 

He couldn't sleep at first, then when he finally did, waking up in the morning the last thing he wanted to do was get up and start the day. Juliusz dreaded 9 P.M, he dreaded it when he ate breakfast, he dreaded it when he came to work, and finally dreaded it when he put on his best suit just an hour before his scheduled meeting with the Italian mafioso. And now he sat and waited, from the perspective of an outsider, he looked like a man waiting on an awkward date. Juliusz wanted to order another drink when just next to his hand, a hat was placed. 

"Started without me?" The foreign drawl sent shivers down his spine, Juliusz's gaze went from the hat to the tattooed palm up to a soft suit and finally, the face of Luca Changretta himself. He somehow looked even more smug than the last time he saw the Italian. That damn toothpick hanging loosely from his lips, connected to a slight smirk. Juliusz tried to straighten up even more and appear confident and unamused.

"It's only an appetizer, for waiting." He cleared his throat, sliding the glass to the barkeep.

"It's not wise to start a business meeting by getting drunk." Changretta nodded at a booth nearby, earning a shrug from Juliusz, who followed.

"It takes a lot more to get me drunk." He mused, step-in-step with Luca. "Back in the war, they'd give us more schnapps and vodka than water, safer to drink, they told us." When they approached their seats, two drinks already waiting for them.

"You fought in France?" Luca sat down with a quiet groan, crossing his legs. He knew this wasn't the case, but it's a good opportunity to test any lies the man could spew at him, and to make Julius talk more. Maybe he'll get more information if he just lets Ferenz run his mouth.

"Russia. Mostly, at least. Fought alongside the Austrians." It wasn't exactly  like that, but he didn't feel like explaining the nuances of the eastern border in The Great War to Luca goddamn Changretta of all people. He already tortured all the poor Blinders with political talk, that's why he wasn't allowed more than seven drinks at the Garrison.

"I thought you were a commie." Changretta raised an eyebrow.

"I wouldn't call myself that. More of a supporter of equality, i'd say." It was true. While he thought Ada was intelligent and well-spoken, his favourite person to talk world-events to, he was against an armed revolution. He saw enough bayonets and corpses for one lifetime.

"Same difference. Wouldn't the Russians be your fighting buddies then?” Changretta still pressed the subject. Sure, he knew Ferenz's alliances politically and military-wise, but he wanted to hear from Julius himself. It's easier to tell a lie that way, or at least that's what Luca told himself.

"Not if I wanted an independent homeland after the war. The Russians never hid the fact that they saw Poland as theirs. If I could choose between standing with the Marxists and a free Poland, I'd always choose the second option.” He rambled for a hot second, when he does so, he tends to show off his hands more, either tapping on the table or rubbing against eachother. He cursed internally and could physically feel Changretta looking at his heavily scarred palms, they aren't pretty, but then again, it's better than having none, Juliusz always figured when trying to make himself feel better. To his surprise, Luca only looked up and continued their conversation without even sounding different. He didn't notice? He had to. Odd.

“Understandable.” Luca hummed and nodded ever-so-slightly, taking a small sip from his drink, wincing. Juliusz wasn’t sure if it was the Italian being an arrogant snob or just a lightweight. “So, you thought about what I said then?” 

“Clearly.” He muffled a laugh in his chest, pointing his hand lazily between the two of them and where they were. “I’m what you’re looking for.” He stated, his gaze confident when meeting with Changretta’s.

“I know.” That’s all Luca says.

“I’m present at all family meetings, and have access to official documents, files, you name it.” Juliusz took Changretta's short phrase as a hint he may need to convince the Italian a bit more. “They trust me.”

“Even after we picked you up?” He asks, his eyebrows raised in a pretendingly shocked face, making the lines on his forehead thicken even more so.

“You only beat me and tried to scare me.” Juliusz’s last words were a bit muffled by him taking a sip of his drink, and he winced as well, damn, Changretta isn’t being a snob right now, the drinks here are just shit. “Officially, at least.” He put it down and looked around.

This earned a chuckle from the Italian. 

“Tommy bought it?” Luca tapped his finger on the rim of his glass, not seeming to want to drink it anymore, using it to fidget.

“I can only assume so. I wouldn’t underestimate him if I were you.” Juliusz adds.

“If I wanted to, he’d be dead already.” He says in a condescending tone, ever so pleased with himself. Juliusz rolls his eyes.

“That’s the thing though, right? You don’t want him dead just yet.” He raises an eyebrow at Luca. A long silence passes between them, both men assessing the situation internally. Finally, Juliusz added. “Are you going to uphold your end of the deal?”

Luca took a heavy breath, closing his eyes for a brief moment. He then leaned forward and in a low tone answered. “Arthur Shelby killed my father.”

Juliusz sighed. “Out of mercy, would you rather he left him with a delusional, grieving Thomas?” He eyed Changretta and pointed a finger in his direction. Juliusz knew what went on in that fucking room with Signiore Changretta and Thomas, he's never seen Tommy in such a state. It scared him, honestly. “He spared your mother as well, John too.”

“Where have I heard that before…” Luca scoffed, leaning back into the red velvety cushions. “Sparing my momma, was your first mistake.” 

Juliusz only hummed in shy agreement, finally deciding to give the now lukewarm drink in front of him another chance. It’s somehow even more bitter and dry. Before he can come up with an answer, comment or a quip, Changretta adds.

“Were you there?” It sounds almost…empty, the way he said it. Juliusz puts down his glass and slowly considers what to say.

“Not… Physically, no. My Blinder business ends when it comes to… Getting rid of people the Brummie way.” He tried his best to keep eye contact with Changretta, but as he continues speaking, the Italians’ eyes got slightly sadder, so slightly Juliusz would have missed it if he wasn’t paying attention to his body language. The lawyer felt a slight tug at his insides, heart maybe, guilt? No, that would be absurd, he wasn’t there, it’s not his business. He doesn't and shouldn't care. His business is to stay alive. Juliusz averted his gaze to a very uninteresting spot on the table. “Would you kill me on the spot if I said I wanted both of your parents dead?” He wanted to say literally anything else, but that was somehow the only thing on his mind right now, and what came out of his mouth. To his utter disbelief, Changretta laughed.

“Of course not.” He says like Juliusz just assumed the most unrealistic thought possible. “Why did you?” He asked, his eyes now seeming more pleasantly amused than anything. Even if he'd never admit it, it calmed Juliusz down.

“Ms. Changretta was a loose end. It was foolish of Arthur and John to let her leave England.” It was the same thing he told Arthur, John, Thomas and literally anyone in on the whole ordeal. Changretta nodded in agreement, then smiled.

“If it wasn't for them, we wouldn't be having drinks together, eh, Mr Ferenz?” He raised his own glass, thick rings clinking against it quietly. Juliusz smirks at him as he meets the Italians’ glass in a toast. After they both had a sip, Changretta winced at the taste once again and put down his now empty glass, as Juliusz muttered something in Polish Luca couldn’t quite decipher, but still found himself trying to pay extra attention to the way his voice sounded and words rolled off the tongue. “I’ll consider your term.” 

On the outside, Juliusz only nodded approvingly and thanked him for his consideration. Inside, he felt the biggest relief in a while, as long as he played along with this silly ego game Changretta and Thomas played, at least some people would be safe.

“Well, I hoped the drinks would be better if I have to be honest with you.” He quipped with a smile. “It’s not a good introduction to England’s fine alcohol.”

“True.” Luca chuckles. “But there’s always next time, now  I got a job for you.” 

“A job?” Next time?

“A few, actually, but let’s not get ahead of ourselves.” He stops and looks at Juliusz. “Do I have your back, Ferenz?” His tone isn’t cold, but it definitely gives the Pole a shiver, which he blames on the bars' poor wall quality of all things.

“If you’ll have mine. I’m not planning to die here, not for Thomas, anyway.” He says, with the best fake distain he can manage. Luca nods.

“Good. Then I guess I won’t be needing this.” He reaches into his breast pocket and takes out a silk pocket square. “Take good care of it, i might need it later after all.” He slides it over to Juliusz with a knowing smile. Juliusz doesn’t take it yet, looking between the fabric and Changretta.

The Italian stands up, buttoning up his suit. He takes two steps and when he’s next to a sitting Juliusz, he leans down just a bit, his voice hushed, but not quite a whisper.

"Benvenuto. I'll call.” Is the last thing he says.

And with that, he’s lost in the growing crowd.

After a long moment of staring at the last place he saw the man, Juliusz carefully unfolds the reddish silk, revealing an unshot bullet. On it, in scratched, ominous writing, is a name. 

His name.

[magnusedom]

i'm so tired of gringos, mainly americans, coming to mexico and complaining about the way we do things here and our cultural differences. they not only want to overstay their welcome and become "digital nomads" earning their income from the US in dollars getting to spend it here where everything is cheaper for them and elevating the cost of living for us living here earning in pesos, they also want us to assimilate and accommodate them, they complain about us not speaking english (why should we be expected to?) and get annoyed at how "noisy" and "loud" our cities are. cause why do you as an american come to mazatlán, a city well known for its music, and get angry at people trying to make a living playing their instruments when that's literally the culture??? there's no party without these guys' "shitty annoying music" in sinaloa! why do you think you as an american have a say on where and when banda music should be played? why are you asking hotels and beaches to put posters around "forbidding" people to make noise or play instruments? you don't love mexico you don't love mexicans you don't love our culture you only love that you can afford to live here with your miserable dollars because had you stayed in your cringe ass country you couldn't afford shit

[moorishflower]

Go west?

Yeah! go west, young man is a concept I'm tooling around with for The Terror! Combining two of my favorite things: depressed and repressed Victorians and the mid to late 1800s American wild west! In which James Fitzjames marries Sophia Cracroft 'to honor Sir John's memory,' Francis Crozier resigns from the British Navy and flees to the United States to avoid being confronted with losing both James and Sophia, and I attempt to fix everything with polyamory.

~~~

In all his years of sailing, James had only had occasion to visit the United States once. He had been fifteen at the time, serving aboard Pyramus with Captain Sartorius, and had been rather more concerned with maintaining his precarious position aboard the ship as opposed to gawking at the strangenesses of the former colonies. Pyramus had docked in New York, attending to some diplomatic function which James had not been privy to the specifics of; his primary memory of the journey now is that New York had seemed very much like London, in that it had been large and busy and crowded, and had clamored with a thousand different voices and accents along the docks, and the smell of rotting fish and seaweed and salt had permeated the air just the same as any other harbor. In that way, it had made him terribly and fretfully homesick, not only for London, which he had grown with and which had grown upon him in turn, but also for a more nebulous concept of home-ness, which had oft been denied him for much of his childhood.

He is not surprised to find that New York has not changed significantly in the years between 1828 and 1850. It has grown wider, yes, and taller, and louder and more offensive to the senses, but these are all things that have occurred in London as well, the only difference being that he was present in London for many of its changes, and he views the same growth here with eyes unadorned with the spectacles of familiarity.

Sophia, on the contrary, is possessed of no such fondness; he flatters himself that he has come to know her expressions well over the last year, and in particular the ones indicating disdain: here, the wrinkled nose, just barely, to mark her displeasure at the smell of the harbor; and just there, a tightness at the corner of her mouth that tells him she is struggling not to frown. He watches her retrieve a handkerchief from her handbag, which she holds delicately over the lower half of her face. It serves the dual purpose of both masking the scent of the docks and hiding her expression from him.

Perhaps another man might take offense at this. Perhaps a better husband might seek to remedy her ire.

James has never fashioned himself as a husband of any sort, let alone a decent one.

Matrimony need not be a requisite for gentlemanly behavior, he chides himself. He is too tired to do more than think it, but makes the effort to extend his hand in order to assist Sophia in disembarking. She demurs -- had that not been a constant source of argument, in the beginning? Her independence, her willfulness, her habit of grim sullenness? -- and gathers up her skirts as they move along with the flowing tide of the other passengers. The rank smell of fish and salt surrounds them all sides.

"I shall be frightfully pleased when we are quit of sea travel," she says. He nearly misses it. James had not expected her to speak to him at all…at the very least, not until they had reached their lodgings for the evening. He clears his throat. His head is throbbing, but this is nothing new. He has found that crowds and loud noises induce in him an ache behind the left eye so fierce that sometimes it takes all of his willpower to keep himself from screaming.

"We shall not be rid of it just yet, I'm afraid," he says. He makes an attempt to sound apologetic. For all that Sophia had accompanied Sir John and Lady Jane on many of their voyages, she is no Navy sailor. "We must charter a packet ship to take us down the coast, to…" He struggles to remember his geography; he has the absurd and sudden thought that, perhaps, if he were to remove his eye, functionally deficit as it is, perhaps the pain would stop. He rubs his temple instead. "…a river," he finishes, lamely. Sophia turns her head towards him. She is still holding the handkerchief to her mouth and nose, and between it and her bonnet it gives her the look of an odalisque, not unlike the women he had seen in the Ottoman Empire. The difference, of course, being that no girl there had ever looked at him with such open and fiery contempt.

"The Mississippi River," she says slowly, as if speaking to a child. James pinches the bridge of his nose, but this provides no relief. "I am aware of our travel itinerary."

Are you? he wants to ask. Demand. Are you, truly? If you were, then you would know we are not enemies. We go to find the same salvation, you and I.

He does not speak it. What use? Sophia Cracroft had determined to hate him the moment she had said 'I do.'

[ghostly-cabbage]

Hi and congrats on 1k!

For a request, I’d love if the fellas from TTB had some fun bonding time together over a mundane activity (watching a shitty ghost hunting show, baking a complicated recipe, the horrible game known as Monopoly, etc.)

Thank you so much for sending this request!!! I loved this prompt so much you have no idea. I care them so many. I set this more or less in the timeframe that we’re in currently (which was harder than you’d think). But, as the story goes on requests like this will be more and more fun, trust me ;) Anyway! I hope you like!

"Cuppa?" Danny asks with a raised eyebrow.

"Yeah. You know, like a cup-a tea?" Alex says, dragging Danny down the empty hall to the hotel breakfast lounge. "No offence, but you American's have shit tea."

Danny snorts. "Wouldn't know. I'm more of a coffee person to be honest."

Alex looks at Danny and the dark circles under his eyes. "You know, coulda guessed."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

Alex holds his hands up but can't bite back his smirk. "Nothin'. Nothin'."

The hotel dining room is half full. People are milling about with plates, scooping out one-tone scrambled eggs and mini-sausages onto plates. There's someone scrolling on their phone, standing next to the waffle maker that reads 2:14 and counting down, looking bored. Across the room the bulky TV mounted on the wall plays the news.

Alex side-steps someone on their way away from the counter, making a beeline for the beverages and coffee dispensers. There's a small wire rack with tea boxes. Calm Chamomile, Soothing Mint, Earl Grey, English Breakfast. He's not familiar with any of the brands.

"You've really never put milk in your tea?" he asks plucking two paper cups from a tower next to a hot water dispenser.

Danny stands at his shoulder. "No? Sounds kinda gross, dude."

"It's not, I promise. You're gonna have to trust me, yeah?" He shoots Danny a smile and reaches for the English breakfast tea.

Danny makes a soft noise, a scoff concealing amusement. For all of his apparent secrets, Danny is easy to read.

"Would you get the milk? 2%." Alex nods towards the mini fridge at the end of the counter, stocked with milks and single serving yogurts.

 Alex fills the cups with hot water, steam unfurling from within the cup. He tears the packaging on the tea and plops the bags into the water--tossing the garbage in the closest bin and snagging two stir sticks. Danny is walking back towards him when he picks the cups up and moves to a table with clear view of the exits.

 Danny sits across from him, setting down the small carton of milk.

"Now what?"

"Now, we wait."

Danny slouches back in his chair, hands tucked in the pockets of his hoodie. On the surface he looks lazy--unconcerned. But Alex can see how tense he is, eyes fliting away to track anyone that gets up or walks in. It's a strange sort of relief, knowing someone is else is watching for red flags. Before Yassen--Malagosto--Alex was used to being in the field alone... This isn't the field, but it might as well be, maybe in a way this is worse.

"'S it true to you have 'tea time' everyday?" Danny asks.

Alex snorts. "No. People have lives. But some people do I guess. Old people. It's nice on days off."

"Makes sense," Danny says before breaking into a yawn.

The urge tugs at the back of his jaw and before he can stop it, he's yawning too. His eyes water and he shakes his head. "Dude, stop, you're making me tired."

"It's not my fault you and Yassen wake up at the crack of dawn," Danny mutters, quiet enough to keep it between them.

Alex rolls his eyes. He wants to ask Danny if he's actually been sleeping or not but... Something makes him hold his tongue.

"Force of habit. I'm sure Yassen has had the same sleep schedule since he born." Huh. Now that he thinks about it, it's hard to think of Yassen as anything other than what he is--a dangerous Scorpia assassin. The idea that once Yassen was a kid that wanted to sleep in and avoid school is almost too absurd to entertain.

Unasked questions flicker across Danny's face, but in the end, he asks none of them. Probably best that way.

After a period of amiable silence, Alex's attention captured by morning highlight coverage of a world cup football match aired last night--he decides the tea has steeped long enough. He takes the bags out and puts them on top of a paper napkin. He pops the carton open.

Danny shifts forward, sitting up. "Tea time, innit?" Danny says with a shit-eating grin and the laziest attempt at a British accent Alex has ever heard.

"Hey," he says, sharp but fighting a smile, "if you're gonna be a dick, you don't get any."Danny laughs, small but genuine. "Alright, alright. I'm sorry." He gestures at the cups. "Continue."

Alex pours milk into the cups, watching it plume at the bottoms like mini explosions. He stirs them and then pushes Danny's cup towards him with a satisfied nod.

"That's it?"

"That's it."

"No sugar?"

"You can, but then you miss out on the flavor of the tea itself, man."

 Danny lifts a skeptical eyebrow. "Thought you said American tea was shit?"

"Christ sake, just try it!"

Danny grabs the cup and brings it to his lips, blowing across the surface and dispersing the lingering steam. He takes a sip.

"Well?"

Danny hums, setting it back down. "Not bad. I know what'd make it better, though."

"What?"

Alex watches in horror as, from out of nowhere, Danny pulls out a small blue container of French vanilla coffee creamer.

"Oh, that's just blasphemous."

Danny's smile twists a bit evil as he pulls the seal and dumps the creamer in. And then a second, and a third.

"How many of those do you have? It's not even tea anymore, dude. You gotta stop."

"Sorry, I didn't even ask. You want some too?" He moves towards Alex's cup with a creamer at the ready and Alex yanks it away, twisting away from Danny in his chair.

"Don't you dare."

Danny snickers.

"Not everything has to have a metric fuck-ton of sugar." He lowers his voice, "American drinks are so sweet, I don't know how you stand it."

Danny picks up his cup and shrugs, taking a drink, eyes drifting away from Alex and out the window. "Stick around long enough, you'll get used to it."

[kitmoas]

The Chronicles of a Sweet Toy

A Training Grounds Mini Series

Summary: The sweetest side of Toy makes everyone around them melt. (Yelena emerges from the shadows)

Warnings: Ageplay (Think that's it, let me know if I missed anything)

A/N: This has been a long time coming, and I'm super excited to put out these drabbles. I'll be posting one every day for a week.

***Minors DNI***No Smut rn but this is an 18+ Training Grounds Universe***

| Vol. i | Vol. ii | Vol. iii | Vol. iv | Vol. v | Vol. vi | Vol. vii |

The words on the multitude of screens blur some as Natasha rubs at her tired eyes. You had been slipping into a different headspace lately, and she never really dealt with it before, and she never liked feeling uneducated. The two of you had a few conversations about it, most of it being you mumbling through the flush rising on your face and the widow trying to ease your nerves. Now here she sits at eight in the morning after setting you up for your first zoom class of the day trying to get as much information as possible. 

She’s so immersed in the different websites that she doesn’t hear the window open, nor does she see the slim body slide in. “I could have shot you right in the head and you would not have had time to try and stop me.” The ginger sighs, flinching at the position she got herself in, as she lets her gaze slide to her sister now sitting on the window sill. Opening her arms the older woman scoffs, but her body softens as her little sister cuddles into her side. The two sit in silence for a minute, Yelena just waiting to see if Natasha will bring up what she’s researching. “So you found out?” 

The ginger flinches, partially from the sudden noise but also from the blunt tone of her younger sister. “Found out wha–” The look she receives from the blonde makes her stop, sighing softly. “Yeah, I don’t know if I’m capable of taking care of that side of them. How is someone like me capable of… of.. Doing that.” She helplessly flops her hand in the direction of the computer screen. Slouching as she protectively wraps herself around Yelena, the stressed thoughts are obvious on her face. “H-how did you know, Y?” 

The white widow is pushing out of her sister’s arms, spinning to look at her face. “Honestly? I only figured it out right before you three got together. Y/N would get in moods that seemed different, and these I did not understand. I did a little research and I suppose I put the rest together. She is not hard to deal with, and to be completely blunt I am not even sure she knows what is going on to a good extent. I know I did not, but she is my best friend. I was not there to judge, so we hung out and watched some very colorful sponges and floating cartoon characters. I had thought you two knew this entire time with your weird all knowing witchy wife.” The smirk on the blonde’s face makes Natasha roll her eyes, shoving her slightly. 

Shrugging, the older widow mindlessly scrolls through the article she was reading. “First off, she isn’t my wife. Second, it’s Spongebob; learn American media Y you’ve been here long enough.” The green eyes flick over to look at the pouting little sister with a teasing smirk. “This is the first time Y/N has really…shown us this side, but you do seem like you’re right. I’m not sure they realize that this isn’t just basic subspace. I just don’t know if I’m much of a…caregiver..” 

A calm silence covers the room as the two let the conversation soak in, Yelena curling into Natasha’s side relishing in the attention of her older sister. “You know, Sha, you are.” She smiles at the confused look the ginger shoots at her. “You take care of wiggly woos, have for so many years. You take care of Y/N too, I mean c’mon Daddy.” The young widow pokes her sister in the side, a small teasing smile on her lips. “And..you take care of me, all the time. You always have, ever since we were children. You take so good care of those you love, you taught me how to do the same. Do not use the fear in your veins to let you stop yourself from doing something that I know you want to do.” The blonde shushes her older sister when she opens her mouth to counter her, a knowing look on the young girl’s face. “Where is-” 

Yelena’s question is cut short by some sniffles and Natasha spins around immediately to see you holding a dripping Sir Spikes, rubbing at your red tear filled eyes. Before the Avenger can even get a word out, you’re babbling incoherently as you sob uncontrollably. She’s rushing towards you, eyebrows scrunched in confusion, as you hold out your beloved stuffed animal. “Oh Detka, what happened? I thought you were doing school work after your class.” 

You plop the soaked plush in her hands, and you let your body carelessly flop onto the floor; pouting up at her. “Spilled the can on Sir Spikes.” You’re miserably whimpering up at her, eyes filled with tears. “Fix him Daddy.” 

Natasha’s whole body is tense, panic obvious all over her face. The ginger’s eyes are flitting between the disgusting feeling stuffed animal in her hands and you, as you lean pathetically against the door frame. She has never seen you this distressed, and her emotions are already all over the place. 

It’s Yelena, jumping up and invading your space, that makes your crying turn into mere whimpers. She’s rambling in Russian to you, watching you finally start giggling, but she’s giving Natasha instructions. Step by step, the older widow listens to you try to prompt her sister into saying different things as she mechanically washes the dinosaur and cleans up the spilled red bull. Cringing at the sticky mess, she moves around your desk so that nothing would get wet. By  the time she gets back, you and Yelena were moving the room around. “Uh.. what’s happening here?” 

The two of you look up, innocent smiles quickly spreading across both of your faces, as you freeze in your spots. You both are rocking on your feet, badly suppressed giggles filling the room, before you finally scramble over to the ginger. “Daddy shhhh you’re on a mission! Can’t let the bad guys hear you!!” 

Yelena stumbles over, arms full of nerf guns and foam daggers, with a crooked smile on her face. “We need code names! I can be White Widow or W2.” She’s puffing her chest out now, as she drops the toy weapons at your feet. You immediately pout, grumpy that your best friend is trying to come up with her own code name. The two of you immediately start bickering, the intensity finally making Natasha step in to settle the fight. 

It’s with the couch flipped upside down, blankets hung up and thrown over chairs, and nerf darts stuck to the walls that Wanda comes home to. The witch’s jaw drops at the sheer amount of untidiness, but before she can call out to yell at anyone she hears static. Following the sound she finds Yelena laying on her stomach underneath the flipped couch, with a sniper nerf gun and a walkie-talkie. A guilty smile is thrown towards the witch as the small device broadcasts your voice, “Widow 2, hello? This thing not working, why’s nobody talking?”

Wanda’s face softens as she hears a distant “Widow 1, help! Nothing's working!”. With a wave of her hand she lets her body be covered in her Avengers suit, pulling at the jacket as it settles on her shoulders. She winks at Yelena, motioning for this to be a secret between the two of them before she sends a sparking ball of magic into the room where she can hear you whining to Natasha to fix your walkie-talkie. 

The squeals and panicked shooting makes a smile spread across her face as she settles in the pantry, preparing herself to fight her favorite three agents

Tag list: @simplysimping999 @8bitscarlet @simpfornatasharomanoff @yourtaletotell @s1ut4nat @simpforflorencepugh1 @theperfectlovestory @katebishop-ladyarrow @widowbitessting @uraveragequeer @didujustcallmedumb @inluvwithfictionalwomen @ali-lie

[my-sibling-wears-a-muumuu]

This Punk, the feelin' that you stay for

I made a fic with kobra and peach (my character) critique me if you want, interact if you want

------

"You're.... new?"

The new person stared at Party, eyes wide. Kobra's arm slung around their shoulders. Ghoul and Jet sat across from both, all holding the only set of playing cards in the diner.

The new kid held out a hand, chipped black nail polish decorated their finger nails. They had on Kobra's fingerless glove, he had the other one still. They wore a woven bracelet, it was various shades of green. And bad luck beads all down to the mid arm.

"Peach Spider, and your kob's siblin' right? Party Poison?"

"Yah," Party answered as they took xer hand, shook a little, and dropped it. "You uh, runnin from the city?"

"The handshake made it a little obvious, huh?" Peach said, putting their hand back on the table

"So, uh, what've you two done today?"

Jet giggled, "And last night!"

"They stayed the night?"

"Ze did," Ghoul answered, "You woulda know had your cute ass stayed here. Which, where were you last night honey buns?"

"I- What I was doing doesn't matter, ze stayed the night?"

"Hah, you coulda heard in the fucking city!" Jet added.

"He was not that loud," Peach said, "American Idiot mighta heard us in zone 2-"

"None of that was you?!" Ghoul exclaimed to Peach, disbelief in his voice he spoke to Kobra, "Your a fucking bottom!?"

"Bottom is a bit- I can't fight it anymore." Kobra tried, and failed to defend himself.

"Well-" Party started, "I'm gonna let you all get back to your-" they made a hand motion, "-game, have fun, don't fuck, in a little I'm gonna go pick up kid."

When they were finished they left the diner, and walked to the other portion of the diner. The diner had a Mechanic's shop and motel attached to it. They walked to their own motel room.

---

A few minutes had passed since party left for their room.

"Dude your a bottom?" Ghoul said suddenly. "Woulda pinned you for a top, little man."

"And loud? Like, your so... quiet, all the time, like you never speak." Jet added.

"Well," Peach spoke up, "I like my lover a little loud. Ya know?"

"Sometimes only havin to only make noise is nice." Kobra said. "Lotta effort goes into topping."

"Yeah but you were like, super fucking loud, how do you have all of that in ya? Like...?" Jet asked.

"I dunno." Kobra mumbled, "Can we not dive into this any further?"

"I mean, sure, little man, but i heard you two rooms down!" Ghoul said before dropping the topic.

Off in the distance a school bus was approaching, it was covered in art. The tires were kicking up the sand and dirt on the road.

"Oh shit!" Peach exclaimed before rushing to get out of the seat, they rushed out the door to kobra's room.

"What was all of that about, little dude?" Jet asked, a hint of worry in her tone.

"Zer apart of the fun bus crew. Dirt and Neon are comin' to get zem." Kobra said, putting his last card down, "Also, I win, fuck you." With that he got out from the booth, and went to his room where peach was.

[myceliumbean]

Cars 2 Agents AU How did Rod survive III

Featuring: In which they rest

Summary: the agents were on a mission, and everything went wrong soon after they entered Russian airspace

Dammit, I just couldn't find a proper place for Rod struggling to tell them about his near-death experience and thus considering changing the chapter names

She's in golden red paint. Holley watched as Julia sneaked into the hangar, woke up Eva, bumped Boris' front tires with a cheerful smile, put down the boxes she carried, and waved goodbye to the team before leaving.

"Much like a storm of energy and cheers, right?"

"Wha- oh, yeah, she's…" Holley turned to face Alyona, who had taken out another cup of cocoa and sipping on it happily. Someone's goot to stop the forklift from taking in this much caffeine. "Is she even at your age?"

"Ah ha! Eva, you owe me one!" Alyona made a resounding "ching" with her tines. "Julia is much older than me, even Michaele, if you would like to know, maybe… let me think about someone… oh, she's like Boris' daughter, and I'm more like his granddaughter!"

The Ilyushin-76 in the background made a not-very-heartily protest and said something like "I'm not that old".

Eva chuckled and smashed the hude cargo plane on his front tires. "Aw, but you almost act like that, you and Zil are equally overprotective."

Boris rolled his eyes, and tilted to the side to take a proper look at Holley and Alyona. "Well, if that's how you want to phrase it, then I'm gonna adopt Siddeley."

Daniil choked at the unexpected words, and Michaele made a soft noise as he tried to bit back his laughter. Then, Alyona smacked the forklift on the back of his red helm, and the two bursted into laughter as they playfully chased down each other, driving circles in the big hangar.

Holley didn't realize she's smilling too, until Daniil drove up and tapped her with his tine. "You look good when you're smiling. Don't be too worried about your friends, they're safe with us."

"…thank you, Daniil. It's just- I don't know, I'm never afraid even we're pointed by guns and completely outnumbered." Holley shuddered as she recalled the feeling of Finn lying limp against her frame, or how cold Rod is when Finn told her the American spy had passed out. "I know it isn't good for us agents being too close or too attached to others, but I can't…"

"Get some rest." Daniil smiled warmly, as if he could read Holley's thought so easily like flipping a book. "You'll need it. Zil has so many things to tell you. I'll take Alyona to check on the other two agents, feel free to call us if you have any question."

"I will. Thank you, Daniil."

Watching as the two forklifts headed for the door to the hangar on the left, Holley let herself drift into her own thoughts.

Finn Mcmissile. Rod Redline. Siddeley. Even Mater, who they had mistaken as Rod. They're all great people.

Holley had joined the mission by accident. She's supposed to hand over the information and period. It was Finn who insisted that he'll need her help and pulled Holley into the center of danger. Not that she's complaining, really, she had learn so much from the field, and fron Finn himself.

If Holley's honest enough to herself, she's actually scared of how fast she became friends with Finn and Mater. Siddeley, on the other hand, was not really close to Holley, but they went well together, and their similar age made the interaction more like ordinary friends than mentor and mentee.

The jaguar would probably get lost in her thoughts forever if that bright red figure didn't stayed there for enough time at the corner of her eyes.

Holley didn't recognize that car. She casted a glance at Boris, but the big guy just continuously reading his book and use his wing to cover Siddeley up with some piece of canvas everytime when the Gulfstream V shuddered in his coma and caused the canvas to slip off.

But as far as she knew, the hangars near this one were control areas, no way they're allowing some random vehicles wandering around like that.

Holley looked at that red car, who might be a jaguar too, and got a look and a smile back.

Chrysler, why on the world was this stranger smiling at me?

That bright red jaguar waved a front tire at Holley and quickly headed to the right side of the hangar, opened the door, and disappeared behind it.

"…um, Boris?"

"Yes, Ms. Shiftwell." The Ilyushin moved his gaze from his book to the small purple jaguar. "Anything wrong?"

"Well, that red jaguar… is it fine to let someone else in? Or is the car part of the team?"

"Ah, him." Boris somehow sounded amused. "He's fine, Zil called him in for some security assistance."

"Oh, I see. Maybe I'm too worried about my friends… will you mind if I take a nap here?"

"No. Just suit yourself, Ms. Shiftwell, I'll look after you guys." Boris said certainly. "I'll wake you up if they're awake."

"That will be appreatiated, thank you. And just call me Holley."

"Good. Now sleep, Holley, Zil's gonna push you to the very end of your strength."

@longjiaojiao had joked about Julia being Zil and Boris' adopted daughter, and I think putting this in would be fun, as Eva was almost the same age as Boris (and they're both a bit younger than Zil) and one of her best interests is teasing her relatively more serious colleagues

Alyona, by the way, is the youngest of the team, even might be younger than Holley, while Siddeley being a bit older than she in this AU

And congratulate to our ghostly-wardering-around and having-too-few-canon-scene C.H.R.O.M.E. agent, Leland Turbo for making his debut in the AU!