#I think the fancy hats we could put on display would probably look better on the wooden stands than on the fake heads

[throwing-roses-into-the-abyss]

I have had some alcohol and now all language skills are going out the window and yet, and fucking YET

I'm thinking about museum stuff again

[wri0thesley]

Nat... 👉👈 since requests are open can I please request some Gojo fluff? If you need a little inspo maybe like, reader and him meet after they were abroad for a mission or something? I'm in love with this funky man and I just wanna give him kiths

sweet tooth - gojo x reader, sfw, 2.5k

the early bird catches the worm. or the cake, you guess.

(just a lot of talking about food tbh . . . i dont get to write pure sfw fluff much, thank u for letting me indulge in my jjk brainrot NFJVND. gn reader! )

You know as well as anyone how little free time a jujutsu sorcerer has. You’ve spent most of your past few years rushing around from place to place, calling it a good night’s rest when you manage to fall amongst your coverings before the clock strikes three in the morning. You think this probably has to go double for somebody in such a constant state of being needed as Gojo – but still, he’d shown up outside your room this morning, bright and early, and said; “We’re going out!”

He hadn’t mentioned that you were still clad in pyjamas, your hair still a mess about your face, eyes still sleep and shadowed. You had jumped out of bed at the knock, of course – you’re used to being needed at the drop of a hat – but there is nothing at all in the way Gojo is looking at you to suggest there’s any kind of danger brewing.

He got in last night at the same time as you, after an exorcism had dragged on longer than expected – you know this. So how is his skin still glowing like moonlight, his voice still so bright, his hair still falling over his blindfold in that effortless perfectly-styled-without-being-styled way?

If he’s slept, he’s gotten the same hour and fifteen minutes you’ve gotten.

“Not even a warning?” You sigh, stifling a yawn. “I haven’t had time to clean my weapons or anything--”

“Woah!” Gojo’s grin doesn’t fade, but he holds up his hands as if he’s trying to avoid a savage attack. “Just you and me. No curses, promise. You won’t be needing those.” He cocks his head to the side. “Unless you wanna try and take me. I think you’d lose!”

Your brow furrows. You know you’d lose, and so does he.

“Have you seen the time?” You ask him, instead. You don’t question why or how he’d gotten into the hallway to stand like this outside of the room you’re renting in Tokyo for a while. You’ve learnt after knowing him for a while that what Gojo wants, he gets – besides. If he’d sweet-talked your landlady into letting him in, you couldn’t blame her for falling for his charms.

He sticks his head into your room and turns his face towards the clock on the wall, ticking merrily away, mocking you. You had hoped, after last night, the next time you saw a clock the hour hand would be well past twelve again. He pulls back.

“Now I have.”

“. . . aren’t you tired?”

Gojo shrugs, maddeningly. Half of what he does is irritating to the highest degree – the other half makes your stomach do strange somersaults that you try and push away. Getting a crush on Gojo Satoru is just going to lead to disaster. Although at this point, you have to admit to yourself that it’s more a case of ‘having a crush’ – there’s not much denying it, when he twinkles at you like this.

“You’ve gotten a good hour of beauty sleep,” he chirps. “Not that you need it. Let me take you out!”

You’re still focussing on the compliment, slipped into his words as if it’s as simple as breathing, when he enters your room full-on and is opening your wardrobe.

“H-hey,” you say, weakly. He’s rifling through the rack without a care in the world. “I—I can dress myself--”

“It’s quicker if I do it,” he replies, pulling out one of your favourite shirts. “Here, catch--!” Your reflexes allow you to not make a fool of yourself in front of him. “The colour of that one’s pretty! It’ll look nice on you.”

You’ve had more clothes piled into your arms before you can blink. You guess that Gojo must know his way around clothes – you’ve seen some of the brands and price tags of things he wears – but you can’t help but be a little flabbergasted by just how casual he is about everything. Maybe it’s the fact that your brain is still short-circuiting after being woken up earlier than you were expecting.

He finishes and walks over to you.

“I’ll wait outside.”

“W-what a gentleman,” you manage, and he throws his head back and laughs, and the laugh feels like it lodges warm in your chest. “After waking me up, bursting into my bedroom--”

“I’ll pay for everything,” he promises. He saunters out of your room, pulling the door closed behind him, calling; “I’ll make it up to you, promise!”

You stand there for a few more moments, still struggling to process the whirlwind that is Gojo’s presence in your life – half joking, half serious, half making you think that maybe you stand a chance, when he calls through the door;

“I can’t hear you moving!”

You jump. You wriggle out of your nightwear, your cheeks heating up, as you snap back;

“You said you were going to wait out there, not that you were going to press your ear to it and listen like some kind of stalker--!”

–

You stare in confusion at the fancy window in front of you, decorated with swirling cursive in gold. From outside, you can see into the establishment – the white scrollwork chairs, the cake stands, the menus standing up in their pale white leather covers. The early morning sunlight from outside is reflecting off a perfectly organised display case teeming with tiny little perfectly formed cakes.

“If you were craving something sweet,” you say, eventually, “surely there was an easier way to get it than this.”

Gojo grabs your arm cheerfully, pulling you towards the entrance of the patisserie.

“Well, I got the first sweet thing I was craving,” he ticks it off with his other hand. “But then I had one of my patented brainwaves.” He elbows you. “Put them both together!”

“I’m not feeling very sweet after you interrupted my sleep,” you mumble, but you know that there’s no real bite in your words. You hope Gojo doesn’t notice the reaction that you have – you know he’d never let it go. You often don’t know how to respond to his flirting – he has a reputation, after all, and you are just . . . you.

“We had to get here early, anyway,” he says, as he stands before the counter. The man in the apron and chef hat behind it recognises him immediately, lighting up – you wonder how much money Gojo spends on expensive patisserie. Everyone knows he has a sweet tooth. “They sell out of some of the best stuff well before ten!”

Gojo knows exactly what he’s doing as he points out various desserts from the display case, the man falling over himself to get the – frankly absurd amount of sweets – carefully packaged up for him. You’re not surprised, knowing Gojo, about the cute animal-shaped cakes that he chooses, the smiling bears and cats with ears made of sliced strawberries. You’re a little more surprised by all of the fancier pieces he chooses that you don’t recognise, but you don’t have much time for dwelling on it.

Spoils in hand, you peer further into the establishment to choose a table.

“Nah, don’t worry about that,” Gojo says cheerfully. “We’ll find somewhere outside to sit. It’s such a nice morning!”

You don’t miss the grin he shoots you as he says ‘morning’, the sidelong tip of his head as if he’s waiting to see if you’ll scold him again for interrupting your sleep. You do no such thing, content to be pulled along behind him again as he goes off in search of a place to enjoy his spoils.

People just tend to be pulled along by Gojo’s magnetism, you’ve discovered – and you are, hopelessly, no different.

He finds a quiet bench in a shady corner of one of the local parks; the only other people going past occasional elderly, walking their little dogs. He pats the wooden frame of the bench next to him, smiling.

“You’re not going to make me eat all of this by myself, huh?”

“It’s enough for eight people,” you say, sighing and resigning yourself to your fate as you take the place. He’s lucky you have a sweet tooth too; if he’d brought someone else, they’d probably be shirking back in horror at all the sugar. “You could probably eat it by yourself anyway.”

He pouts.

“I want to share it with you,” he says, cajoling – his fingers hover over one of the smaller cakes, a perfect bite-sized morsel. You try not to think about the elegant lines of his fingers and the power behind them as he plucks it up and offers it to you. “This one’s really good.”

You bring up your hand to take the sweet from him, but he laughs as your fingers bounce away from him, not quite able to get a purchase.

“Let me feed you,” he says to you, and blood rushes to your face all over again.

“I—I can feed myself,” you say, swallowing thickly. Gojo’s smile, on full, sculpted lips, makes butterflies crash into one another in the pit of your stomach.

He brings the treat to your mouth and he’s right, it does look really good. It’s a neat little roll cake, small in Gojo’s fingers, with the green colouring so many sweets you’ve eaten in Japan have been – you hope it’s not matcha, knowing the flavour will surprise you and Gojo will probably laugh, but you open your mouth in defeat and let Gojo pop it in there. His fingers linger a little too long against your lips, his expression fluttering so quickly you don’t quite catch it.

If you didn’t know better . . . you’d say that he had just fought back a blush.

“Is it good?” He asks, and his voice sounds a little strangled. You bite down on the cake, the juice of the strawberries coating your tongue – it is matcha, but the flavour is offset by the sweetness of the vanilla and fruits, and you’re glad about it. You nod enthusiastically, and he laughs.

“I told you!” He taps your cheek. “I know what I’m talking about!”

“You’re so smug,” you tell him, unable to hold back the laughter that’s bubbling out of you. Alright, maybe he woke you up too early and maybe he’s dragged you outside and maybe he’s been haunting your daydreams for months now, but . . . you think he means well. And you can’t deny that the sun is shining and the cakes are really delicious.

“If you were me,” he says, stretching out his arms over the back of the bench, “you would be smug too.” You shake your head at him, but he has a satisfied smile on his face. “Feed me one!”

“Are you going to let me?” You ask. “Or are you just going to bounce it away with your Infinity to make fun of me?”

You hover over the selection yourself, considering what to choose for him. In the end, you go for one of the mini slices of mille crepe cake, reasoning with yourself that even if it’s unusual to be eating so much cake this early, at least crepes are a traditional breakfast. Gojo obediently opens his mouth wider as you lift the slice.

You falter.

“You really want me to feed you?” You ask him, unsure. He laughs, grabbing ahold of your wrist – you almost start as he takes a bite from the treat, his lips tantalisingly close to your fingers. Another bite, and the cake is gone (you’ve never seen slices of mille crepe so small – but then again, judging by the eye-watering amount Gojo paid for his spoils, you’d never be able to afford to buy from a place like that).

“Mm,” he smacks his lips together. “It’s good.”

You swallow, noticing that there’s a smear of the cream between layers at the corner of his mouth. Gojo notices you staring, and quirks his lips into a smirk. “You’re staring,” he says. “I know I’m gorgeous, but--”

“You’ve got . . .” You say, awkward, motioning to his face. Somehow, it feels too intimate to lean forward and dab it away yourself – he’d asked you to feed him, after all. If you did it of your own accord. . .

“Huh? Oh,” He moves one of the arms casually draped over the bench to his face, and you think he is going to wipe it away – but instead, he hooks his thumb under his blindfold, pushing it up casually so the light hits the swirling colours in his eyes.

You’ve seen them before, of course – you’ve seen Gojo at work, after all – but they’re still a surprise, a bright moment of swirling starshine dropped on you when you’re least expecting it. Your stomach does that flip-flop again, the one that you try so hard to ignore – but when he’s looking at you like that, curious and smug all at once, you don’t really know how to handle it.

You’re glad you’re in a secluded spot. There’s nobody to see the embarrassing display of you not quite knowing what to do with yourself.

“You can get it,” he says to you. “I don’t mind.”

“I—”

“Look.” His other hand rises, cups your face, thumb ghosting across the same spot on your cheek that he’d tapped earlier. “I left icing sugar on your face. I’ll get that, and then we’ll be even.”

(Did he do that on purpose, you wonder? You wouldn’t be surprised.)

Your hand is trembling as you reach for the cream. You try and force your fingers to be still as you lean in closer to him, eyes concentrated, as you wipe the little splotch of cream from his mouth. You’re so close you can see galaxies in his eyes, the fan of white lashes, the way that his throat bobs when he swallows as if he’s nervous--

Nervous? Gojo? That can’t be true.

“I got it,” you breathe, though you don’t move. Your faces are so close together. You could lean forward, just a bit, and meet his lips with your own. Gojo’s eyes stay trained on you, not faltering in the least. His thumb is still on your cheek. Your own finger hasn’t moved from the corner of his mouth.

“Wanna know what it tastes like?” Is that a falter, in his voice? You’re stuttering all over the place, but Gojo--

“I’m not gonna put that in my mouth after it’s been on your face,” you tell him, without moving. Your heart is beating ten to the dozen. Gojo’s eyes crinkle at the corners.

“That’s not what I meant,” he says – and he breaks the distance himself, and suddenly he is kissing you. The hand on your cheek cupping your face into his, the other hand going about your waist, holding you tightly against him like he’s been wanting to do it since the moment he woke you up that morning.

(The mille crepe cake is delicious, you find out, from the lingering taste on his lips. Next time you two go there in the early morning rush, Gojo buys two slices.)

[spooderboyandtincan]

Happy Halloween!

A/N: Here are the actual episodes of Buzzfeed Unsolved mentioned in this fic! The Terrifying Axeman of New Orleans and The Horrors of Pennhurst Asylum. As a warning, both of these videos describe both very grisly and gory things, so please watch them with caution! 

(Also, the author in no way claims to own or use these videos for commercial property. Just wanted to include them!)

~~~~~

Peter was having a great day, even when an apple tried to give him a concussion. 

Normally, he would have caught the traitorous fruit, but there were several families around who might have noticed his outstanding reflexes, so with some split second thinking he let the apple bounce off his head.

“Ow!” Peter massaged the top of his head. Tony and May turned to him, both slightly concerned. “I think this tree is trying to kill me.”

“Oh, spare us!” Tony said to the tree, reaching out to ruffle Peter’s curls. “Not my darling son! Take me instead!” 

Peter rolled his eyes at the dorky genius, actually finding himself feeling a little bad for the poor apple tree. “Don’t worry,” he muttered, patting the rough bark. “It wasn’t your fault.” 

There was something very adorable about watching Peter trying to comfort a tree, both Tony and May observed. Their kid’s heart was so pure and kind it was blinding. 

Peter snatched an apple off a low-hanging branch and, before Tony or May could stop him, bit into it. “Wow,” he mumbled through a mouthful of fruit, “this’s really good! Can we pick some?”

“That’s what we’re here for!” May sang. “Did you check for worms before you bit into that, Petey?”

“Worms?!”

Tony shook his head in fond exasperation. Peter spat his mouthful of apple on the ground in disgust, chucking the half eaten red orb to the side. “Ew ew ew ew ew!”

“Buddy, I’m pretty sure there weren’t worms in there,” Tony suggested.

Peter shrugged. “But are you sure? Now we have to pick more apples just in case they’re all wormy.” He stuck out his tongue in a mature display of unhappiness. 

“Thought you liked picking apples,” he questioned, suddenly worried that Peter had only been pretending to enjoy himself.

“No, no I do! It’s really fun! But now I can’t eat any,” he pouted. “I’m so huuuungry.”

He frowned in concern. “Why don’t we get some food and come back, kiddo? We can grab an extra coat from the car while we do.”

“Mr. Stark, I’m already wearing, like three of yours,” Peter laughed. He gestured to the layers of puffy jackets he was bundled up in, along with his favorite Spider-Man hat and thin black gloves.

“Actually, I think you need a scarf,” Tony observed. “We can’t have any spider-baby popsicles on our hands, now can we?”

Peter rolled his eyes. Tony began fussing over him like a mother hen, wrapping his own scarf around his neck and zipping up his third coat. He took the boy’s small hands in his and winced, rubbing them to bring some warmth. 

“You’re gonna lose fingers if we don’t get you some better gloves, bud.”

“I’m fiiiine.”

Peter heaved the bag of crisp, red apples into his arms with ease. Tony and May grabbed their own separate ones and heaved them over their shoulders with a lot less ease. They headed toward the muddy dirt road, lugging their apples and stopping for a moment to admire some chickens. 

“Ooooh!” Peter exclaimed suddenly, spotting a glimpse of orange behind the tall pine trees. “Mr. Stark, May! There’re pumpkins!” He jogged off. 

“Don’t you wanna get food before this, Pete?” Tony called, following the boy.

“I’ll eat the pumpkins!” 

“Look out for worms!” May teased. Tony found himself thinking of the classic nursery rhyme, Peter Peter Pumpkin Eater.

May found the perfect pumpkin almost at once. It was on the opposite side of the small field under a beautiful towering oak tree with red and golden leaves still on its branches. The pumpkin was a beautiful shade of dark orange and wonderfully round. She held it against the chest like it was a baby. 

Tony didn’t have any particular pumpkin in mind that he wanted so he decided to let Peter choose for him. 

“Are you sure? I don’t wanna get the wrong one,” Peter worried. 

“It won’t be the wrong one, kiddo,” Tony promised.

“Get that lumpy one, it looks like his head!” May advised from across the pumpkin patch. Peter sniggered.

“I’m offended. My head is perfectly oval-shaped,” Tony objected. 

“Smooth as a shark,” Peter muttered to himself, completely missing the perplexed look from his father-figure.

He picked up the lumpy pumpkin and then began to scavenge for a second one, humming. “This is Halloween, this is Halloween, pumpkins scream in the dead of night… ooh.” Peter knelt down and began to inspect this potential nominee. 

It was huge. Wide and tall with a round face and a flat back. The stem was long and twisting. The color was beautiful.

It. Was. Perfect.

“I found it!” he yelled. May and Tony turned to long at him and Peter displayed his pumpkin proudly. 

“Congrats,” said May, her grin wide. Tony applauded. 

“Can we get it?”

“Of course, Roo.” He smiled, kneeling down to take the lumpy pumpkin while Peter stood up with his own. “Do you wanna get another?”   

“Are you sure? I mean, I kinda do…”

“Yes, Petey, I’m sure.” Tony bent to press a quick kiss to his forehead. “Actually, I’d be delighted if you got another one. Really.” He loved seeing Peter so happy over a simple fruit. (Vegetable? Gourd?) Tony would gladly buy thousands of pumpkins if Peter could always be this happy. 

Soon Peter had selected two more pumpkins, a wide, squat one, and round, light orange one. They made their way back to the parking lot and the barn, where lots of fresh produce stands were set up. 

There was a beautiful, towering willow tree that Peter admired, watching its long limbs sway in the wind peacefully. He breathed in deeply, inhaling the scent of rain and hay and something just distinctly fall. He trotted back to where his family stood in a line to buy their pumpkins and leaned into Tony, letting him wrap strong arms around him and hug him close. 

They bought their pumpkins and sat down at a picnic bench under the willow tree and basked in the sunlight. Tony left to the car and came back with a picnic basket akin to the ones in cartoons.

Peter’s eyes lit up when he noticed the mac and cheese in a plastic container and immediately he dug in. After inhaling his pasta, he dug through the basket. His eyes sparkled like stars. 

“Rhodey made us brownies!” Colonel Rhodes’s brownies were the best. They were gooey and somehow always warm, with extra chocolate-chips and an oreo in the middle. Rhodey had drowned them in jack-o’-lantern shaped sprinkles. He had even included a bottle of whipped cream, though most of it had probably been used on the current brownie Peter had just bit into.

“Oh, yummy,” May said, helping herself to a large one. Tony took his own and sprayed almost as much whipped cream on it as Peter had. 

Before he took a bite, he laughed. “Pete, how did you get whipped-cream on your forehead?” He balled up his sleeve and wiped it off. Peter squirmed away.

He played a quick rhythm on his pumpkin before glancing toward the various stands by the barn. “We should get apple cider,” he said, having a sudden realization. “I guess they probably wouldn’t go very good with brownies but maybe with pumpkin pie or something…?”

“Good idea, bud. How about some candy apples while we’re at it?”

“Yesss.”

Peter was bouncing in his seat while he waited for May and Tony to finish their sandwiches. He helped himself to a few more delicious brownies, trying to savor every bite. (And failing because they were so good.”

When they finished their food, they took a quick moment to put their pumpkins in the trunk of the car, then Peter led the way to the barn. At the back of the big room there was a large assortment of fresh produce, which May made a beeline to. On the right wall were four tall refrigerators, chock full of apple cider. 

“Why are they in milk cartons?” Peter wondered, opening the door and pulling the juice out. “Here!”

“Just one? You need to hydrate, young man,” he teased, pulling out three more jugs.

“I won’t just drink apple cider, Mr. Stark.”

“Actually, I think your blood is gonna be 75% apples, kiddo.”

“Carrots or asparagus, Pete?” May called. 

“Carrots?” 

“Good choice, honey.”

Tony noticed wonderfully red candy apples displayed on one of those cupcake stands he always saw at fancy parties. He pointed them out to Peter, who grinned and asked if they could have some.

“That’s what we're here for, Petey-Pie.” 

The young man at the stand wrapped the tree apples individually with cellophane and placed them in a bag. 

“That’s smart,” Peter said as they joined May at the checkout line. “Apples probably wouldn’t taste good with a paper bag.”

The cashier recognized Tony when they bought their food. Her hand flew to her open mouth and she shook her head in amazement. “You’re… you’re….” 

He offered a smile. Peter inched behind him and grabbed his hand. Tony squeezed his hand comfortingly and moved in front of him so no one could see his face. 

The cashier began to check out their items robotically, staring at Tony for an uncomfortably long time before she blinked and asked, “Do you want a bag, sir?”

Once they stuffed the groceries into the trunk of Tony’s car, Peter admired the farm one last time. The big willow tree swayed gracefully in the brisk wind as if it were saying farewell. 

Peter crawled into the back seat and slammed the door, curling up and shivering. Tony glanced in the back mirror and quickly moved to turn up the heat. 

He rested his chin on the edge of the window. The position was far from comfortable but at least he could watch the trees fly past as they drove. 

“You okay back there, Petey?” Tony asked, sounding concerned.

“‘M good. Just thinking,” he mumbled. It was hard to talk with his jaw pressed against a hard surface. 

“You sure, bud?” Tony still sounded worried. Peter sighed.

“Stop worrying,” he groaned. “I’m fine.”

“Okay, Petey, I trust you.” If he hadn’t been driving the car he would have held up his hands in mock surrender. “But you know that you can come to me for anything, right? Even if it’s just a stubbed toe, okay?”

“I know, Mr. Stark, really.” 

A snore filled the car, and they both laughed when they looked to May and realized she was already asleep. 

“So kiddie, whatcha thinkin’ about?” he asked. 

“How I’m gonna carve my pumpkin!” 

~~~~~

Peter dramatically threw the three pumpkins he was carrying down onto the kitchen island, pretending to wipe sweat off his forehead. He snickered when May rolled her eyes.

Peter took off his layers of coats and threw them on the couch, hanging his scarf up and then ripping off his hat. His hair frizzed everywhere and Tony laughed, his eyes soft and adoring. He flattened it down with his hand and pulled Peter into a crushing hug, bending to kiss his still slightly puffy curls.

They sat down at the kitchen island and chose their respective pumpkins. Peter looked around. “Where’re the knives?” he asked. 

“Oh, I know.” May stood up and rummaged through the upper cabinets, bringing out an orange carton. “Here!”

Tony watched nervously as Peter grabbed a carving knife from the box and stabbed the top of his pumpkin without any regard for his personal safety. 

“Careful, bubba,” he warned. He was about to take the knife from Peter’s small hands and bend it into pieces for being so dangerous and trying to hurt his kid. “No lost limbs today, okay?”

Peter laughed and continued to cut the top of his pumpkin. He yanked the stem out and sliced off the stringy guts. He took an orange plastic scooper and started scraping the seeds and guts out of the inside. Tony took his own pumpkin and did the same, keeping a watchful eye on his reckless kid all the same.

“What are you carving Pete?” May asked. 

“Secret,” Peter grinned, turning the pumpkin so they couldn’t see it. “You can see later!” 

“Well, fine. What about you, Tony?”

Tony hadn’t given much thought about it yet. He wasn’t sure, but he thought he had an idea that might work. “Secret,” he said.

May sighed in amused exasperation. “Suit yourself, lumpy. I’m going with the classic.” She took a purple sharpie and started drawing.

“Why aren’t there Halloween Carols?” Peter wondered aloud. “I don’t know like, any spooky songs and it’s sad.”

“There’s that one, um…” Tony trailed off. He did know the actual name of the song, but the look on Peter’s face would be priceless. “Spooky Scary Pumpkins? Ghosts? Is that it?”

Peter slowly raised his head, his eyes wide. “What?”

“You know, that one you’re always singing,” May said, joining in. “‘Spooky scary pumpkins’ sounds right.” 

Peter groaned and buried his head in his arms. “No. This isn't happeniiiiiing.”

“I believe the correct title is ‘Spooky Scary Skeletons, Boss,” said FRIDAY’s disembodied voice. 

“Thank you!” Peter threw up his hands in relief. “Spooky scary pumpkins. Ugh. Thanks for the nightmares.”

Tony ruffled his hair. “FRI, play it for us uncultured zombies, will ya?”

The first few notes of the song played and Peter started headbanging exaggeratedly, doing a dance in his seat. “Such a bop,” he said to himself, then went back to carving his pumpkin. 

A bop? Tony decided not to ask. He sketched out his idea on the pumpkin with a light pencil and rummaged through their carving tools.

“Mr. Stark, you didn’t get the guts out!” Peter protested. 

“Don’t worry, bud, you’ll see. Trust me.”

Tony finally found what he was looking for. “A-ha!”

“Is that..?” Peter leaned over. “Is that a dremel drill? Isn’t that for like, trimming dog nails?” 

“One of its many uses!” Tony switched it on. “Carving time.”

“Ooh. That’s cool, I wanna try!”

He handed the drill over to him. Peter turned his pumpkin around to the back and started carving. “Oh, so it only gets like the fleshy parts! The flesh? So then it kinda glows through.”

“That’s right,” he said. “It looks pretty cool when you put a candle in it.” Tony took the drill and got back to work. Their song was still playing in the background, and at some parts Peter would do a dance and sing along. 

After about fifteen minutes of ridiculous chatter and multiple songs played, May jumped up. “Finished!”

“Already?!” Peter exclaimed. “Lemme see!”

“Just a sec.” May ran off and grabbed a candle from one of the drawers in the living room, then hurried back. She put it in the pumpkin and lit it carefully. “Ta-da!”

“Oooh!” 

May had carved a traditional pumpkin with a big, spiky jaw, a triangle nose, and big triangle eyes. She had taken seeds and put them in the corners of the eyes to act as pupils. 

“Oh, he’s cross eyed!” Peter laughed. “That’s really cool.” 

Tony grinned. “Clever. I like it.”

“Thanks, Tony. I think I’ll borrow that drill from you when you’re done. I want to make a flower on the back.”

“Sure.” Tony continued working on theinrticate design, squinting and trying to make it as precise as possible. He caught Peter trying to sneak a peak and shooed him off cheerfully. 

When Tony looked up to check on Peter, he nearly cooed. His kid had the most adorable look of concentration on his face. His tongue poked out between his lips and his brow was furrowed. Peter worked carefully, selecting the tools he knew would work best and using them delicately.

 When Peter looked up again, the sky was considerably darker. He looked at the clock. “How is it already five?!” No way had he been working for one and a half hours straight. 

Tony blinked and snapped out of his stupor. “Huh. Time flies, I guess. I’m about done, how about you, kiddo?”

“Almost… I kinda messed up a few details but I think it looks okay!” He scraped the pumpkin more and looked up. “There! Where are the candles?”

“Here you go.” May smiled and handed him a red candle that smelled like cinnamon. He took the lighter and dipped his hand in the pumpkin while Tony watched anxiously. 

“Don’t burn yourself, baby.” He bit his lip in worry. “Be careful.”

“I am!”

May dimmed the lights and pulled the curtains shut. The candle glowed brightly in the dark room and Peter turned the pumpkin to face them. 

May gasped. “Oh. Oh my goodness! Peter, that’s gorgeous!” 

The boy blushed in the candlelight. “Thanks.” He looked to Tony, who had been strangely silent this whole time. 

“Mr. Stark?”

“Petey….” Tony felt his arc reactor and in his mind, compared it to Peter’s intricate, detailed carving that he had spent so much time on. “Petey… you made my reactor?” 

“Uh-huh! I kinda messed up some parts, but I think it looks pretty good. What do you think?”

“I… I… oh my god, baby, I love it. I love it so much.” He pulled his kid into a hug, squeezing him tight. Tony kissed his head and blinked away the tears in his eyes. Peter, surprised at first, hugged him back. “Thank you, Petey.”

“No problem,” he said, voice muffled in Tony’s sweatshirt. “Does it look good?”

“It looks beautiful, baby.”

“I had no idea you could make something like this,” May murmured, tracing the arc reactor with her fingers. “Wow, honey. This is spectacular!”

“Thanks.” Peter’s face heated from the praise and he pushed his head further into Tony’s chest. “What did you make?”

“I was wondering when you’d ask.” Reluctantly, he let go of Peter (but not without another forehead kiss) and grabbed the lighter, He lit the candle, turned it around, and-

It was Peter’s turn to gasp. “Is that me?!” He admired the glowing spider emblem with wide eyes. It matched the one on his suit exactly. “Oh my god!”

Tony beamed. “Do you see the resemblance?” 

“I’m pretty sure you just stole my suit and like, made it into a pumpkin. It’s so cool! I love it, thank you!”

“It was my pleasure,” he said graciously, giving a little bow. “Where do you think we should put them?”

“Um, I dunno. Where’s a good spot?”

Tony looked around. Eventually they decided to put them on the mantle above the fireplace. Peter worried they might rot, but the man assured him they wouldn’t and turned off the fireplace just to ease his kid’s fear.

Peter took a look at the room. A few days ago he and Tony had draped bright orange and purple lights around the room and Peter had added some webs that would definitely leave stains. There was a black spiderweb table runner on the coffee table, and in the kitchen there stood a plastic cauldron filled with dry ice. Ghosts made of tissue and paper mache balls hung from strings by the fireplace and above the couch and tv. Peter took a black and orange oreo from a pumpkin shaped plate cheerfully. 

“When’s dinner?” he asked, realizing how hungry he was getting.

“Are you hungry, bud? We can order a pizza, how does that sound?” Tony replied, smoothing down his curls and then ruffling them so they puffed back up again. 

“Great!” Peter patted his curls back down and flopped on the couch, taking out his phone. 

Only fifteen minutes later the pizza arrived. Peter jumped up happily and opened the box.

“It’s pumpkin shaped!” he exclaimed. “That’s so cool!” The pepperoni slices had been arranged in jack o’ lantern face and Peter laughed. He took four big slices for himself and sat down at the table while May joined him. Tony poured three glasses of apple cider and gave the biggest one to his kid, then sat down next to him. 

Peter wolfed down his pizza in the blink of an eye and downed the cider just as quickly. May and Tony started on their second slices while he started on his fifth. 

He was about to ask May if she knew that some spiders had blue blood when her phone rang. She smiled apologetically at them and stood up to take the call.

“Sandra? Oh, hi.” She wandered into the living room. “Uh-huh? Oh, that’s too bad, I’m so sorry.” A pause. “I could. Yeah, no problem. It’s okay. I hope everyone feels better.” May put her phone down. 

“I’m sorry, guys. I have to fill in for a friend for a few hours.” She sighed. “Her twins are sick and she really needs this. I have to go but I’ll be back soon, okay?” May grabbed her coat and gloves. “I’m sorry, sweetheart.” 

“It’s okay, Aunt May,” Peter said, offering a smile. “What time will you be back?”

“Around two.” She titled his head back to kiss his forehead. “Get some sleep, both of you. No scary movies. Larb you!” She headed toward the elevator.

“Larb you too!” he called back as the doors closed behind her. Peter sighed. 

The room was oddly silent without May’s laughter, but soon Peter started chatting and laughing and they relaxed into their normal banter. 

When they finished their pumpkin pizza, they sat down on the couch. Peter snuggled into Tony’s side and yawned, grabbing his Starkpad. He scrolled to a video and poked Tony’s shoulder.

“What’s this, kiddo?” he asked, wrapping an arm around Peter’s shoulders and pulling him closer.

“Buzzfeed Unsolved,” he mumbled. “That’s Ryan and that’s Shane.” 

“Huh. That’s cool. They solve mysteries?”

“Sometimes. They don’t really solve them, I mean, it’s called Buzzfeed Unsolved, but they do talk about suspects or theories or whatever. Sometimes they do supernatural ones and they’re really funny. And spooky,” Peter rambled. Tony chuckled and turned his attention to the video.

The Haunted Halls of Waverly Hills, read the title. As the creepy introduction played, Tony frowned. The two men he assumed were Ryan and Shane were walking around a long, spooky hallway with cameras that made everything look like it was tinged green.

“You sure this isn’t too scary, Pete?” he asked, not wanting his kid to have nightmares. 

“It’s not,” Peter grumbled. “I’m fine. This one is cool!”

“If you’re sure, Roo.” Tony still sounded skeptical. He was prepared to turn off that tablet the second Peter showed any sign of fright, but he never did.

“This week on Buzzfeed Unsolved we explore Waverly Hills Sanatorium as part of our ongoing investigation, ‘are ghosts real?’” said Ryan.

The camera panned to Shane as he shook his head. They went on to explain the history of the sanatorium. Peter giggled at their many jokes, especially when Shane made snarky remarks. Tony deduced that Shane was the sceptic while Ryan strongly believed in paranormal happenings. He was inclined to side with Shane, but Peter looked just as nervous as Ryan was when he walked down an empty hallway all alone. 

“Pete, are you sure this isn’t too scary?” he repeated after a particularly gruesome description of the horrors that took place in that old building.

“Yes, Mr. Stark.” Despite his annoyed tone, Peter was smiling. 

“Okay, okay.” Tony turned to press a tender kiss to his temple. “I just don’t want you to have nightmares.”

“I won’t. It’s okay.” Peter flopped against him and pressed the next video. “Promise.” He yawned.

The videos, Tony admitted, were pretty cool. He liked how they listed theories and possibilities instead of just leaving the mysteries unended. The two men were funny and entertaining, and he found himself enjoying the videos. 

By now they had watched at least nine or ten episodes. It was easy to get lost in all the videos, which were only twenty minutes long each, but when you watched a few more, time had passed faster than you expected. When Tony checked the time he was surprised to find it was already nine-thirty. 

“You tired, bubba?” he asked gently as Peter yawned. “You’ve had a pretty big day.”

Peter shrugged. “A little.”

“Do you wanna go to bed now, sweetheart?”

“Sure.” He stretched and yawned again. “Tomorrow’s Halloween, right?”

“That’s right,” he hummed. He helped Peter stand up and they made their way down the hallway. “Good night, baby,” he murmured, pulling him into a hug. 

Peter felt a warm kiss pressed to his curls. “G’night.” He hugged Mr. Stark and stumbled into his bedroom, rubbing his eyes. 

Tony watched with love shining bright in his eyes. He headed to his own bed and climbed under the covers, curling up and turning on the bedside lamp. He grabbed his glasses and perched them on the edge of his nose, planning to get a little reading done before he went to bed. 

He couldn’t help but worry about his kid, who had just binge-watched ten episodes about terrible deaths and tortures. “FRI, tell me if he can’t fall asleep, or if he does and wakes up. Just tell me if he’s scared.”

“Certainly, boss,” the AI said smoothly. Tony nodded and began reading, though he barely took in a word, much more focused on the boy in the room next to him. 

~~~~~

Peter thought he had been tired. He had nearly unhinged his jaw from yawning so much. But now, he lay in bed, staring blankly at the ceiling, unable to sleep.

He shifted around, trying to get comfortable. Heavy blankets tangled around his legs as he thrashed. Peter sighed and mashed his pillow over his face.

After what felt like an hour (but in reality was only fifteen minutes) Peter rolled over and sat up, yawning and scratching the back of his neck.

He grabbed his Starkpad and earbuds. Peter only used one, because two was too overwhelming. He went to youtube and clicked on the first unsolved episode he found, just wanting to sleep. 

The intro played loudly in his ear and Peter relaxed. 

“This week on Buzzfeed Unsolved we’ll cover the Axeman Killer of New Orleans,” said Ryan Bergara. “One of the strangest serial killer cases I’ve ever read.”

“And you’ve read a lot,” Shane replied.

Ryan explained the timeline, which began in 1918 in, of course, New Orleans and ended around eighteen months later. He detailed the mysterious and morbid attempted killings, saying, “In chilling fashion, he only seemed to strike people while they slept in their beds.”

Just to make sure, Peter peeked out the curtain. He shivered and hid further under his blankets. He snickered quietly when Shane made a joke right off the bat.

When the video ended, he turned it off and lay back down. He scrubbed his eyes, feeling refreshed but sleepy at the same time.

Except now, he was having a lot harder of a time falling asleep.

Peter stared at his bedroom door nervously, expecting someone to burst in brandishing an axe. 

It never came.

He watched apprehensively, knowing this was stupid, and rolled over so he faced the wall.

Now his back felt even more exposed. Peter shivered and faced the door in a panic, swearing he heard something. 

Nothing.

He sighed shakily and curled up under the blankets, his heart racing and his eyes wide. The shadows seemed to dance and his eyes flitted from corner to corner as he expected some creature with razor sharp teeth to come leaping out of them. 

A chair, which he had thrown some dirty clothes on the other day, now looked like some skeletal creature with a huge head that could swallow him in one bite.

Peter, in a sudden burst of adrenaline, threw off his covers and sprinted the few feet down the hall to Tony’s room, the door slamming open. Peter leapt onto Tony’s bed, shaking, and wrapped his arms around the man.

Tony went rigid with surprise. “Peter?” He straightened up, squeezing his kid tight protectively and looking murderously around the room for the source of Peter’s fear. “What is it, baby? Are you okay? Are you hurt?” 

Peter shook his head and crawled shakily into his lap, pressing his face into his chest. “Petey? What happened?” His voice was soft and gentle but somehow worried and protective at the same time. “Did you have a nightmare?”

Peter sniffed and blinked a few tears out of his eyes. His cheeks heated in embarrassment. He wilted in Tony’s arms both out of shame and overwhelming relief that he was safe now. 

“Oh, baby,” he cooed. “You’re okay, I got you, you’re okay. I’m here, shh.” He kissed his delicate brown curls. “I’m here, I’m here.”

Peter sighed in relief and squashed his nose against Tony’s reactor. “‘M sorry,” he mumbled.

“Why are you sorry, bubba? You didn’t do anything wrong, okay?” Tony murmured. 

Peter nodded. “I- I just got scared.” His voice cracked and he tried not to cry. 

“Oh, sweetheart, it’s okay, you’re okay. I got you. Nothing’s gonna happen to you, ‘kay?” He brushed his fingers through his curls. “Pete?”

A soft snore filled the peaceful quiet of the room. Peter’s breathing was slow and even, his face lax. Tony’s face softened. He carefully maneuvered Peter’s limp body under the war covers and wrapped his arms around him, pressing his nose into his curls. “I won’t ever let anything hurt you, kay?” He sighed in contentment, holding his kid tightly. “I love you so much baby.”

Tony’s eyes fluttered shut. “G’night, sweetheart.”

~~~~~

Taglist: @imissyoutoo @aj-that-person @tonystark-deserves-better @nathaly-ab @skeeter-110 @peter-and-tony-vlogs @teammightypen @joyful-soul-collector @loveliestdisappointment @depuella @scwene-qween @honeythepooh @pixiethefirecat7 @spider-man-lover @jami161 @bringitonvoldie @queen-of-sarcasm-25 @roxy3457 @memilon @iron-loyalty @gralaca @bitchingpretty @pillowspace @thatminecraftgal @clockworkteacup @hatakehikari @wtfischeese @keep-a-bucket-full-of-stars @skydiving-without-a-parachute @yansi1923 

If you want to be added/removed let me know!

~~~~~

/ST*RKERS DNI/

[keelywolfe]

FIC: Knick Knack Paddy Whack (BAON)

Summary:  As far as Stretch is concerned, there's only one solution when you're addicted to thrift stores. Selling all the crap you bought so you can buy more!

Notes:  Stepping outside of the main storyline for a moment, we'll get back to the aftermath we're all expecting in a moment. 😁

Tags: Spicyhoney, Established Relationships, Domestic Fluff

Part of the ‘by any other name’ series.

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Read it here!

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Stretch was a bonafide thrift-a-holic, he honestly was, and he knew it. It was an important thing to know about yourself, really, because certain problems arose from bad case of oooh-shiny-itis.

Sure, one ceramic zombie hand thrusting up from the dresser to hold his rings and change was an awesome thing to behold, but an entire collection of zombie hands was a tough sell to the person you were living with, especially if that person was Edge. Not that he’d managed to find a collection of zombie hands and if he had, that thrift store would have been on the weekly check list, for sure. But the same premise applied to ‘zombie hand plus an entire horde of other bizarre ceramics surrounding it’.

Stretch wasn’t bitter about the limitations when it came to his collection, nah, he got it. There were certain things you couldn’t ask for from the person you love, and a house filled up with weird tchotchkes that looked like they belonged to the grandmother of the chainsaw massacre family was a step too far. Plus, asking Edge for more space would be unfair. He’d either agree because he didn’t want to tell Stretch no, or he’d say no and feel bad about it. Nah, the set of porcelain dragons playing instruments in a rock band he’d found wasn’t that important, not if it gave Edge a case of the guilts.

Problem was, Stretch really couldn’t resist sometimes. How was he supposed to turn away a wedding painting of Yoda and Kermit the frog? Or a coffee mug with a penguin orgy on it? He couldn’t, that’s how, but his allotted space was filling up in the house proper and soon he’d started to amass quite the collection in his lab, too. It was when the overflow expanded enough to start infringing on his erlenmeyer flasks that he decided he needed a new strategy. Science waited for no one and definitely not anything with the word ‘taxidermy’ included.

That’s when Stretch came up with the plan. Okay, it wasn’t a plan, exactly, more like a flash in the pants of brief inspiration, but hell, he’d been flying by on those his entire life, why stop now?

One of the places he frequented was an antique mall, which was a fancy way of saying one rung on the ladder above actual thrift store, except they rented stalls for people to sell their stuff, so maybe it was more like a glorified garage sale. People carted in their junk for other people to buy and the cashier up front handled all the transactions. Minimal time, minimal effort, that was exactly what he and his kitsch needed, so Stretch went ahead and rented a stall of his own.

The not-exactly-a-plan worked out pretty well. He could buy something at the thrift shop and proudly display it for a while around the house, and then when it came time to replace it with a new find, he’d add it to his stall and whatever money came from it, he donated to the local kid’s charity that the Antique Mall supported. That meant he got in his kicks and joy without looking like a prequel to a Hoarders episode and Edge only had to deal with the octopus tentacle ashtray for a few weeks.

Seriously, it was a win-win all the way around.

A few things did take up permanent residence, of course; he couldn’t give up his zombie hand. But so long as it wasn’t a clown, (clowns were disposed of by Edge immediately and with great prejudice), he was allowed things like his nested Matryoshka dolls of Nicolas Cages for a time.

About once a week he went down to add new things to his stall, mostly during the weekday hours when the buses were on the empty side and he could take up an extra seat with his box of additions. It wasn’t exactly a secret, Andy came along a few times to help, but he never really mentioned it to Edge. Not until today when Stretch realized he’d let things go a little too long and he had some extra boxes to haul down.

Better to take care of it while he was thinking about it, otherwise it tended to turn into an endless cycle of ‘oh, I should do that today’ and him forgetting, but aside from the extra lugging required, it was also Saturday and the bus would be loaded. Hitching a ride would be required, plus a little extra muscle, and his husband was his favorite source for both.

He found Edge in the kitchen, sitting at their temporary table with his laptop and yeah, it was Saturday, time to drag him away from whatever bullshit work he was doing. Stretch put on his best wheedling face and asked, “babe? can you give me a lift today?”

“Of course.” Edge didn’t look up, what a total waste of Stretch’s beguiling charms. His gloved fingertips were soft against the keyboard as he finished whatever he was typing before glancing up at Stretch, and maybe his schmoozing wasn’t entirely wasted; the way Edge closed the lid on his laptop spoke of a guilty conscious for working on his day off. “Where are we going?”

“downtown,” Stretch tucked his hands into his pockets and rocked on his heels. “i need to hit up my junk and disorderly shop.”

That got him a pause, “Your what?”

“heh, you’ll see.” Stretch curled a finger at Edge in a ‘come hither’ motion that his husband didn’t follow, only watched suspiciously. “c’mon, i need you to help me carry some stuff.”

“This ride is starting to sound less like transport and more like a chore.” But Edge followed him to the basement for the boxes, and, surprise surprise, his willingness to help went up a few notches from wary to eager when he figured out what Stretch was doing. Eh, couldn’t blame him. At the top of the pile was a plush frog with the top hat that played ‘hello my baby’ whenever you pushed on its foot, something Red did every single time he walked past it, plus anytime he’d felt like shortcutting in for a quick press. Time to let it damage the sanity of another family.

The boxes were tossed into the trunk of Edge’s car, frog and all, and soon they were on the road, heading downtown. Truth be told, Stretch wasn’t sure what Edge would make of the place. He tolerated thrift stores well enough, but the antique mall was a different kind of beast. An entire building of obscure collections cluttered together into eclectic displays that others were trying to barter and sell.

There were stalls filled with milk crates of old records, shelves and shelves of antique glassware and dishes. Some stalls had vintage clothing, feathery boas mixed in with disco pants and ruffled aprons. Old instruments, rusty farm equipment, strange kitchen gadgets that looked more dangerous than useful, this place had everything and then some.

Plus, the mall had a certain sort of smell, a musty, dusty scent verging on decay that settled into the sinuses and hung around for a while. Stretch thought it was the smell of a life well-lived and he kinda liked it; after years of thrifting, he associated it with finding treasures, but who knew if Edge felt the same. His tastes in smells (heh) ran more to clean and green, not old-timey funk. Could be it reminded him of shower mildew.

Whatever his opinion of the odors, Edge kept it to himself. He helped with the box carrying and checked out Stretch’s stall curiously but didn’t say much. Probably recognized the stuff on the shelves as having once been on a table or Stretch’s nightstand, until the glee wore off and it ended up gathering dust in the basement. He wandered off at some point, heading into the depths of the mall, and left Stretch to restock his meagre wares.

It took longer than he’d expected. Since he’d opened up his stall, not everything Stretch found thrifting found its way into the house proper anymore. Some of it he bought as a straight-to-video option and he was getting pretty good at finding interesting doodads at the thrifty places that might sell better here, location, location, location, that was the ticket.

Stretch always priced his junk reasonably, usually not much more than he’d paid for it. Wasn’t like he needed the money, and besides, Stretch knew himself pretty damn well, therapy did that to a guy. At the end of the day, he knew what this was really about; all an elaborate scheme to satisfy the inner packrat in his soul that struggled sometimes with giving things away.

Bartering had been built in him before he could say the word; in the Underground, he’d gotten damn good at getting deals for what he could scrounge at the dump. This was the same thing, really, just with slightly different stakes. Dinner wasn’t riding on his latest stash of dvds anymore, always a plus, and these days he could simply look at the empty shelves, content in the knowledge that his Smeagol cardboard cutout had found a new home.

Hey, therapy wasn’t the only way to work out a few kinks in your internal lines.

When the last box was emptied, Stretch wandered up to the front desk to give the lady who ran the front register his new inventory list. That was when he heard it.

There was an old piano up front with a sign on it that said, ‘Do not ‘play’ if you cannot play’. Most of the time it sat silently but someone up there was giving it a good try today. The notes were slower, with obvious hesitations as the player searched for the correct keys, but the song was one Stretch knew. Gently melancholy, a match to the cautious playing.

His curiosity piqued, Stretch wandered over to watch and he wasn’t entirely surprised to see Edge sitting on the piano bench, his attention on his hands as he slowly played. It was a tough choice between watching him play and simply listening to the song and Stretch found himself trying to do both. The uncertain skill in hands he knew so well as they coaxed the music free.

When the last note faded, a faint smattering of applause came from the different stalls around them. Stretch waited for it to end before sitting on the bench next to Edge.

Quietly, Stretch said, “i didn’t know you played.”

“I don’t,” Edge said. He smoothed a hand over the keys, not pressing down, simply touching them. “Not really. I can’t read music, but I know a song or two by rote. A friend of mine pushed me to memorize them.”

Welp, Stretch didn’t have to ask what friend, now did he. An old friend back in another world, and people weren’t replaceable even if they wore the same face. He didn’t say anything, didn’t need to; Stretch understood in a way only a few people could, and he settled a hand on Edge’s leg, squeezing his knee gently.

“that was really good,” Stretch offered, “you have a good memory, babe.”

“Some of my memories are better than others,” Edge said. The words were more contemplative than sorrowful, and he didn’t look at Stretch, only touched the back of his hand briefly with his gloved fingertips. “You tend to feature in the best ones, love.”

He reached for the keys again and started to play. The song was more confident this time, bright and cheery, with only the occasional missed note. A handful of other people drifted over, some pausing to watch and some moving on, going about their day with a song to carry them along.

Stretch only tapped his toes and listened as Edge played, more than willing to let him go on until he was ready to stop. If Edge wanted to take a brief dive into the past, then the antique mall was a place for it, where memories and times past mingled with the present.

Besides, a new memory to take home was better than any knickknack.

-fin

Note:  The first song Edge was playing was 'Clair de Lune' by Debussy and the second was 'The Entertainer' by Scott Joplin. In case you were wondering. 😁

[ramblyimagines]

New Year’s kisses!

With -> Aizawa, Mic, Hawks, Midnight, Ms. Joke and Fatgum! After such a crappy year, let’s give the pros some love!

Nemuri Kayama (Midnight)

Nemuri LOVES New Year’s celebrations!!! She loves getting all dressed up and going to the club but that’s obviously not happening this year

So instead, she’ll get all dressed up to stay home! And insist that you do too! She’ll be right there by your side the entire time to chat or gossip and compliment you every five seconds while you pick out your outfit and do your hair

She isn’t the best cook in the world but she can make a few dishes that are just...so warm. You can taste the love she put into cooking them! But tonight she isn’t feeling like a fancy dinner. So she whips up a huge bowl of ramen with thick chunks of pork thrown in as well as veggies! And of course some eggs!

You can’t help but laugh when you sit to eat together cause...holy cow! Neither of you can eat that much!! Looks like you’ll have leftovers for lunch tomorrow! And the day after!

She takes it upon herself to put a towel around your shoulders to act as a bib so you don’t spill food down the front of you. She’ll tease you about it as if she isn’t wearing one too “Awww look at you! So cuuuteee! Like a big baby!”

Neither of you pick up after dinner besides putting the leftovers in the fridge for later. The dishes can wait! You’ve got each other all to yourselves...might as well make the most of it.

You dance together, hands all over each other, unable to resist the urge...You’re kissing long before the countdown begins :0

She puts a finger against your lips, pausing to smile at the firework display visible from your apartment “Looks like we missed it. Oh well, you’re not going anywhere anyway. Happy new year, honey”

You’ll get plenty of kisses to make up for it! And much more :0 You’ll return the favor too of course! She deserves it :’)

Cont...

Shouta Aizawa (Eraserhead)

Shouta managed to get the night off so despite it being a holiday, he’s not wasting this opportunity to rest

He’ll order some really shitty takeout and have a movie marathon! He lets you pick the movies and konks out halfway through the first one

If you really want him to stay up he will but is it really that important to stay up? Just set an alarm for 11:55pm and call it good!

Being the persuasive little shit he is, he’ll probably get you to curl up and nap with him. I mean...it’s hard to resist when he’s so warm and his hugs are so inviting

You turn the tv down and set the channel to where the countdown would be later tonight so you can rest together

Sure enough, your alarm goes off just as planned! You gently shake him awake so you can watch the last pre-countdown performance of the night together

You count down along with the announcer and once it hits zero, Shouta smiles :) he pulls you down for a lazy, tired kiss, his hands running up and down your back ‘Happy new year...can we go to bed now? It’s so late...’ Of course you can’t say no to that handsome face

Emi Fukukado (Ms. Joke)

Emi has been planning this for awhile!! She bought party poppers, silly hats, board games, noise makers- all kinds of stuff to make your night together special!

She keeps the countdown channel on all day long, watching the speeches and performances from celebrities “Ooo!!! I didn’t know they were performing!!! So cool!!”

Her eyes light up as she watches, practically bouncing in her seat while crushing your hand in her grip

You eat tons of popcorn and candy while playing charades, Twister and Mario Kart on her Switch. Some other games she brings out are tough to play with two people but eventually, you guys just make up your own rules! It’s more fun that way!

She jumps for joy when the countdown starts! She gets her party popper ready and fixes your hat “Here we go!!! TEN! NINE! EIGHT!-“

You both pop your confetti poppers and laugh as it rains down on you. She grabs you and dips you with a grin “Here comes your kiss, sweetheart!” Your silly, giggly kiss slowly melts into a warm, loving one

“I’m so happy that I got to spend this year with you! I wouldn’t wanna be with anyone else. Let’s kick 2021’s ass together, what do you say?”

Hizashi Yamada (Present Mic)

Hizashi is beyond excited to be spending New Years with you! He’s got all kinds of snacks dumped out into big ol’ bowls and soda in champagne glasses since he isn’t exactly the biggest fan of alcohol

His hair is down and the ‘Present Mic’ facade is gone for the night so you’ve really got Hizashi all to yourself :)

He has a whole playlist made of songs you guys enjoyed together throughout the year! He frequently pauses songs to reminisce with you ‘OH! Remember when we went to the beach and that kid totally face planted in the sand? This song was playing!’ He remembers these moments so clearly just cause he associates then with songs! There’s plenty of moments that he loves to remember

You two don’t tune into the countdown or the pre-countdown performances or speeches. Instead, you play Guitar Hero!! It gets so competitive that you find yourselves sweaty and out of breath by the end of the final game before you realize ‘oh shit! Thirty seconds to midnight!’

You fumble with the remote and just barely make it! “5...4...3...2...1! HAPPY NEW YEAR!”

Hizashi whoops and yells, pulling you into a sweaty hug ‘WOHOO!! This is gonna be our year babe I just know it!’

Before you can even get a word out he smushes your lips together. It isn’t exactly romantic or anything but you two are smiling and giggling like idiots anyways :)

Now that you’ve caught your breath...How about Guitar Hero round two? He’s not gonna go easy on ya this time!

Taishiro Toyomitsu (Fatgum)

Boy oh boy! You’re in for a fun night!!

Instead of staying in the whole day, you’ll be running all over the city together to pick up food from different restaurants so you can have a bit of everything together back at home! It’s mostly appetizers and little desserts :)

Back at home, you share your dinner while looking at pictures on your phones. Tai gets so excited when talking about his interns and coworkers. Looking back through these photos shows him how much they’ve improved in just a year! Wow!

He’ll also pull up horrible pictures of you just to mess around “What!? I like this one! Oh don’t give me that look- I’m not gonna delete it!!”

Once it starts getting dark you’ll curl up on the couch to flip through channels, maybe settling on a movie or crappy soap opera to watch until it’s time for the countdown

People are setting off fireworks before it even hits midnignt so the two of you make your way outside to watch from your balcony. Tai looks especially handsome all lit up under the colorful lights...He thinks the same about you too

That’s where you have your midnight kiss too, under the fireworks while people celebrate in the streets below. You can’t stay out there too long though! It’s cold!

Eventually you tumble back inside to dive back under your warm blankets on the sofa, hugging each other close

You don’t even know what time it is when you fall asleep but you’ll wake up in the morning to a super sore neck and Tai drooling on your shirt as he lays on you... Better take a picture as revenge for earlier! >:)

Keigo Takami (Hawks)

Keigo got stuck on patrol but that won’t stop him from coming home to celebrate anyway!

You get frequent texts from him letting you know where in the city he is. He’s desperate to get home cause you’re his one and only New Years kiss!!

You’re home alone until 11:30pm rolls around. You left the window for your shared apartment open so he could get in but you weren’t expecting him to fly full speed through the window!!

He nearly collides with the wall, quickly righting himself and throwing his arms up in the air triumphantly “Look what I got! Just for us, chickadee!” ...It’s a bucket of KFC. It is a tradition after all!

Keigo insists you sit while he fixes you a plate. You two usually don’t eat in the livingroom but tonight can be an exception!

He’s still in his hero costume, his feathers are disheveled from flying and there’s a smudge of dirt on his cheek. Not to mention, he’s absolutely tearing into a chicken breast. Wow...you really are in love, huh?

When you two are done with your feast, he clings onto you, resting his head on your shoulder while his wings curl around you “Sooooo....What was your favorite thing you did this year?”

“That’s a tough one. I got to spend so much time with you so...I’d say every day was my favorite!” And just like that you broke the poor guy :( he starts crying and kisses your cheek. He can’t help it!! He’s an emotional guy :( “Birdie :( I didn’t expect you to say thaaaatttt :(“

For the countdown, you sway side to side together with content smiles. Your New Years kiss is soft and sweet, a little short lived but oh well. You’ll get plenty more kisses later

You wipe the dirt and grease off of his face for him before he leaves again! And a playful slap on the ass for good luck ;)

“Hey!! Knock it off!” He’ll get you back when he comes back home :0

[renaerys]

PPG One-Shot: Mall Santa (Boomer/Mike and Brick/Blossom)

Summary: To earn a little extra cash over the holidays, Brick, Mike, and Boomer agree to help out their buddy Todd at a Mall Santa gig. Shenanigans ensue.

This one is for @snailbutters, @genovah, and @hanaokm. Merry Christmas and happy holidays! Enjoy some Boomike, Blossick, and Capri Sus on me. 

[Cross-posted to AO3]

xxx

There were a lot of things Todd needed: a haircut, for one. His black hair was getting too long for gel and it was really pushing the boundary between greaser sexy and sad trash hobo. Money, for another. But like any other 21-year-old townie with a high school education and two restaurant jobs, he always needed money.

A new best friend, for yet another.

“I’m not your best friend,” Brick snapped as he tied a black tie around his neck. He needed to leave in ten minutes if he was going to be early for his dinner meeting with Oliver Morbucks.

Todd put a hand over his heart like it might fall out of the wound Brick’s words had stabbed there. “Dude, of course you are. I’m totally sorry if I ever gave you the wrong idea.”

Brick grimaced so hard he was sure he’d end up constipated. “No, you idiot. I know you think I’m your best friend. You’ve never shut up about it, even after we graduated high school. I’m pretty sure the whole fucking Peninsula knows it the way you go around shouting it when you’re blasted.”

Todd looked like he’d just received news that his favorite nana wasn’t dying of cancer after all. “Oh, cool. For a second there I thought I really hurt your feelings. You know you’re kinda sensitive, right?”

Oh god.

“What do you want, Todd? I have a really important meeting and I’m not missing it for your bullshit.”

Brick checked his reflection in the bathroom mirror in his one-bedroom apartment in downtown Townsville. It was a shitty hole-in-the-wall kind of place, but Brick was used to squalor. His break was coming, he could feel it. If tonight’s meeting went over well, he’d have a more steady revenue stream and, more importantly, the connections and clout the Morbucks name brought to open doors. All the long days at Red’s Auto Shop saving and scraping by would finally pay off, and just in time for Blossom to graduate from college. It was perfectly planned, meticulously manipulated, all down to this last pivotal dinner.

“Cool, no big deal! I just need to know if you’re free this weekend.”

“Free to do what?” Brick indulged him, because Todd was one of the few people on this planet who wasn’t 100% intimidated by his very presence.

“To help me with this Mall Santa gig I got. Harry Pitt was supposed to be my number two elf, but he ate some bad prawns and they had to, like, airlift him to Citiesville General.”

Brick stopped everything he was doing and glared at his second-to-best friend, which was a key fact because second was not the same as first. “What the fuck did you just say to me?”

“I know, right?” Todd knew his way around Brick’s embarrassingly small bathroom, opened up the hair wax, and fixed Brick’s styling job. “Dude always had a weak stomach, you remember. But you don’t fuck with bad prawns. I mean, obviously.”

Brick swatted Todd’s hands away and checked his reflection. It was definitely an improvement. “Not that; the Mall Santa thing, obviously!”

“Oh, yeah. So you’ll help me out?”

“Fuck no.”

“Aw, Briiiiiiick,” Todd whined.

Brick grabbed his dinner jacket from the closet barely big enough to fit a small, starving child. Todd, who had latched onto Brick in the seventh grade like a goddamned barnacle and never let go no matter how hard Brick tried to push him away, followed. “Not if you paid me.”

“You’ll get paid! It’s $20 an hour!”

Brick hesitated over the threshold. “That’s higher than minimum wage.” It was higher than his hourly rate at the garage too.

“Seasonal gigs, man. That’s how you win.”

“It’s seriously fucking not.”

Todd, one of three people in the universe who actually cared about Brick on a personal level even though he wasn’t obligated by blood, made his blue eyes big and wide in a way that reminded Brick of Puss-n-Boots from Shrek, Todd’s favorite movie. “C’mon, bruh. Do your bestie a solid? Just this once? I really need the money and they won’t let me keep the gig without two elves to fill in. So please? Pleeeeeeease?”

And Brick, former scourge of Townsville, a Super with the power to literally raze the planet if it so much as tickled his fancy, and the dictionary definition of the boy every father dreads his perfect, pretty little girl falling for against her better judgment, cracked like an egg.

“For fuck’s sake,” he groused. “Just text me the time and place and get out of my face already.”

Todd punched the air with both fists. “Yes!! Oh, hell yes! I love you so much, dude.”

“Blow me.” Brick checked his watch. Shit, now he was merely on time.

“I’d consider it an honor,” Todd said, probably literally serious.

xxx

Boomer rolled glitter on his cheeks and around the edges of his dark blue eyes with the help of a compact as he huddled behind the North Pole set on the first floor of the Townsville Mall. When he was satisfied that he sparkled like the tinsel-festooned Christmas trees in Santa’s twelve-by-fifteen-foot “forest” themselves, he discreetly re-emerged just as the latest child slid off Santa’s lap.

“Merry Christmas, Dan!” bellowed a red and white-clad Todd behind an enormous, curly beard. “Remember to brush your teeth!”

The little boy ran back to his parents, who were having a word with the photographer about purchasing a picture of their son on Santa’s lap. Before Boomer could follow them, Brick was quick to cut him off.

“Where the hell were you?” he demanded. Sour as an un-sugared plum in his festive, candy-striped elf costume, Brick may have absolutely intimidated the seven-year-olds waiting in line with their parents for a turn on Santa’s lap, but Boomer only allowed him a bemused smile.

“Why, I was making toys for the good little boys and girls who came to visit us here at the North Pole,” Boomer said in a raised voice. He looped his arm through his brother’s and let his power surge with enough force to turn Brick around and face the crowd that was definitely within hearing range. “Isn’t that right, Elf Mursten?”

Brick pushed back with inhuman force, but Boomer held his ground with a smile as bright as the glitter on his cheeks as a little girl in overalls trotted forward.

She giggled. “I like your hat.”

“Thank you!” Boomer gushed, and he tipped his pom-pom-topped cap. “And what’s your name?”

The little girl giggled again. “My name’s Alynn.”

“Well, Alynn, why don’t you step right up and take a seat on Santa’s lap? I’m sure he has a great present for a cool girl like you. Right, Elf Mursten?”

Brick glared medieval torture at him, and he managed a smile that showed too many teeth to be anything other than life-threatening. “Of course, Elf Buller.”

Boomer’s smile tightened.

“Ho ho ho! Come on over, Santa doesn’t bite,” Todd said.

“What a psychotic reassurance,” Brick said soft enough for only the Super brothers to hear.

“Hey, Brick?” Boomer said, just as softly. “Cheer the fuck up.” He gave his brother a bone-crushing squeeze around the arm and broke from him. Brick could be a sourpuss when he wanted to be (all the time), but he wouldn’t mess up Todd’s Mall Santa gig when he’d bothered to show up and actually put in the effort at all. Complain as he might about Todd’s exuberance, Brick had always come through for his best friend since the seventh grade.

Boomer, on the other hand, had been very happy to accept Todd’s offer to work the two weeks leading up to Christmas. The hours were reasonable, the pay was good, and Boomer loved children. It was easy money in between local shows he and his garage band had booked over the holidays.

Plus, the photographer had a nice rack.

“Okay, Santa, Alynn. Look over here and say ‘jingle bells’!” A flash went off, and Mike Believe stood to his full height behind the tripod he’d set up for the day’s pictures. Even in reindeer antlers and a bright, red-painted nose, Mike filled out every fold of his brown Rudolph outfit almost to the point of popping a button. His broad chest puffed out when he put his strong hands on his hips and grinned brightly like he wouldn’t pick anywhere else to be right now.

Their eyes met, and Boomer flushed and smiled like a fool.

When Mike winked back at him coyly, his heart leaped into his throat. Mike had gotten home from college just two days ago, but the three weeks he had off for Winter Break would surely fly by like they did every year, and Boomer was determined to spend every moment together.

A tug on Boomer’s green tunic drew his attention. “Can I take a picture with you? Please?” the little girl asked.

Boomer beamed and scooped her up onto his hip. “Of course you can. Hey, Mike? Can you take one of us, please?”

“You bet! Get in close, now.” Mike readied his camera.

“Oh, wait a sec. Why don’t you take this too?” Boomer removed his festive hat and put it on Alynn’s head. It was big on her, but she laughed happily.

They posed for the picture, and Boomer hugged her cheek to cheek.

“Thanks!” The little girl tried to give him his hat back, but he pressed it to her chest.

“You keep it. Merry Christmas. Remember to be good, okay?”

Alynn’s father was waiting with a hand for her to take when she ran back to him, yammering about how she’d met Santa and his super cool elf friend, and Boomer watched them go.

“You know you’ll have to pay for that hat,” Brick said.

Boomer sighed and ran a hand through his cornflower hair. “You know I look better without it.”

Brick frowned deeply. “Uh-huh.”

“If you keep frowning, your face will stick like that.”

“Moron.”

He always had to have the last word. Brick went to stack the empty boxes wrapped in bright, shiny paper, which was probably more productive than blowing up the entire display. Boomer left him to it. It was time for their mid-morning break, anyway.

Todd got up to stretch. “Man, who knew sitting could be so tiring, huh? Whack.” His phone buzzed, and he grinned when he saw the caller ID.

Boomer, however, had eyes only for Mike as the latter turned off his camera and put a sheet over the tripod to protect it. “Working hard, I see.”

When Mike smiled, his dark eyes crinkled in the corners. He had a face made for smiling. “Oh, you know. Just helping out some friends.”

Like Brick, Todd had asked Mike to help out behind the camera for this gig. Mike didn’t exactly need the extra cash given his lacrosse scholarship that covered his college expenses, but the three of them had been as thick as thieves all through high school no matter what Brick said when he was annoyed. No way was Mike going to bail on the chance to help out a bro.

“This is cute,” Mike said, running a thumb over Boomer’s sparkly cheek.

“If only I could convince Brick to wear some,” Boomer said, lacing his fingers in Mike’s as they shuffled to the side of the exhibit behind a blinking Christmas tree for a bit of privacy.

Mike chuckled. “That’ll take a Christmas miracle. But anyway, I don’t want to talk about Brick right now.”

Their kiss was soft and mostly chaste, considering the venue, but Boomer didn’t mind at all. He rose up on his toes to lean into his boyfriend’s superior height and smiled into their kiss. Even in the middle of the Townsville Mall with shoppers mere yards away, for a few seconds Boomer got lost in the fantasy of the forest and the snow drifts, bright lights and magic that came around only once a year and had always touched his heart in a way nothing else quite could.

“Babe! You got here quick!” Todd’s excitement and a small commotion around Santa’s throne drew the lovers’ attention, and Boomer reluctantly broke the kiss. His Super hearing quickly picked up on what was going on.

“What is it?” Mike asked.

Boomer smiled wryly. “That Christmas miracle you wished for. Come on.” He took Mike’s larger hand in his and pulled him back toward the front of the display, where Todd had scooped up a very small, very fashionable Asian woman in his arms.

“Oh my god, don’t do shits in front of the innocent children, Toddy.” Hana patted her high bun and smoothed out her oversized black jacket once Todd released her.

“Hey, I just missed you is all,” Todd said with a genuine smile like he had really, truly missed his girlfriend since this morning when they had last seen each other.

“You guys are too cute,” said Bubbles with a giggle. As usual, she was adorable in blonde twin tails and a holiday-appropriate sweater dress. Shopping bags hung from both her arms, also as usual.

“Right?” Hana said, her deadpan façade melting completely as she beamed at her closest friend.

“No contest.” Bubbles set down her small nation of shopping bags. “Oh! Hi, Boomer!” She dashed to hug him in a flash of blue, and he caught her easily. “Oh my gosh, I love your glitter. You look like a supermodel!”

Boomer laughed and hugged her back. “Thanks for letting me borrow it. I really owe you.”

“Don’t worry about it. Oh, but you definitely need some touching up. Here, let me just…”

Mike had wandered over to Todd and Hana. “Hey, Hana. Are you staying for the holiday?”

Hana shrugged. “Yeah, my art show isn’t until after New Year’s. You know, I’m always looking for more models.” She raised her eyebrows suggestively.

Mike laughed. “I’m honored, but I’m really nothing special, honestly. You might try Butch.”

Todd guffawed. “Oh man, Butch is, like, one of her top models! She painted him for what, six weeks last summer, babe?”

“Seven,” Hana said, dead serious.

Mike smiled nervously. “That’s a lot of inspiration.”

“He is very inspiring,” Hana said, deader and more serious.

“That dude is goals,” Todd said, totally unironically.

“I guess I can’t argue with that,” Mike said.

“Aaaaand done.” Bubbles stepped back to admire her handiwork. “Honestly? You’re the most beautiful elf the North Pole ever employed.”

Boomer snickered. “Don’t tell Brick that.”

“Don’t tell me what, now?” Brick emerged from his useless empty box stacking task, glitter-less and severely lacking in Christmas cheer.

Bubbles gasped, right on cue. “Brick! Where is your glitter? Get over here.”

Brick made a weird face. “What are you talk—hey!”

Bubbles all but accosted him with the glitter pen. Hana cheered and applauded, and Todd joined in because he liked to cheer and applaud in general.

“What are you—get off!” Brick shoved Bubbles hard, but a flash of pink caught her before she could crash into anything.

Blossom peered around her totally unfazed sister, a tray of lattes in one hand and her perfectly sculpted eyebrow raised. “Brick,” she said.

Brick swallowed. “Blossom.”

She looked nice in leggings and a sweater dress that matched Bubbles’ style, except where Bubbles’ was white, Blossom’s was a scarlet that rivaled the shade of Brick’s eyes.

“I brought you guys coffee,” Blossom said, her eyes trained on Brick even as she held out the tray.

Mike took the tray before it could become collateral damage in whatever was going on between the two of them.

“Here you go.” Mike offered one to Boomer, who gratefully accepted it.

“Thanks!”

“I thought you weren’t getting home until tomorrow,” Brick said, as if he and Blossom were the only two people there.

“Change of plans,” Blossom said. “Problem?”

Brick seemed to remember what he was wearing and snatched his elf hat from his head. He bunched it up between his hands like that would hide his imagined shame. “It’s fine.”

It wasn’t fine, clearly. But it wasn’t Boomer’s place to intrude. He would have been extremely happy for it to end there, but sadly Blossom, like his brother, had a flair for the dramatic and an affinity for the center of attention.

She sauntered up to him and smeared the bit of glitter Bubbles had managed to draw on his cheek before he’d shoved her off. “Good,” she said, half an invitation and half a challenge.

Brick didn’t bend easily. Boomer knew his brother as well as he knew himself, and he knew Brick didn’t relent, never gave in unless he was well and truly beaten, which was rare. But he slackened now, lips parting and eyes falling. Even though his arms stayed stubbornly at his sides and he didn’t do something as scandalous as hold his girlfriend’s hand in public, he melted under her touch and attention.

“All right! Bloss, you’re back early! This is massive, like, supernova massive,” Todd said. “Hey, I know! Let’s throw a party at mine tonight! Brick said you weren’t coming back for another couple of days, so this is like a cool early Christmas present to all of us.”

Bubbles gasped. “Oh my gosh, yes! Let’s all go to Todd’s tonight, just like we used to. I’m calling Robin right now.”

“We can make it a real Christmas party,” Blossom said. Somehow, she’d gotten ahold of Bubbles’ glitter pen and now smeared a generous amount on Brick’s cheeks until he gleamed without suffering a nuclear meltdown. A Christmas miracle, indeed.

“You’ll wear the Santa suit,” Hana said. Demanded.

“Ho ho ho! You got it, babe.”

“That thing’s a rental,” Brick said. “And it’s, like, 75 degrees outside.”

“If he gets too hot, I’ll hose him down,” Hana said.

Brick smartly decided not to press her on that one.

“I like your elf costume, Brick,” Blossom teased. Maybe.

“I’m burning it as soon as I get paid,” Brick said.

“I thought it was a rental like Todd’s?”

He hesitated, trapped by his own logic, and she laughed softly and kissed the side of his mouth. Brick froze and played it off like it didn’t affect him, but his eyes were drawn to Blossom’s lips for the next six whole minutes. Boomer really didn’t get why he had to make everything so damn complicated.

“Hey, hombres, our break is up and I see a super cute kid waiting to sit on the softest lap in Townsville,” Todd said, sinking back onto his candy cane throne and patting his lap.

Brick visibly cringed.

“It could be worse,” Mike whispered to Brick. “At least this time we get to keep our shirts on.”

Boomer smiled at the memory of Todd’s last seasonal gig he’d roped Brick and Mike into over the summer. The shirtless carwash had admittedly been one of his more rewarding part-time jobs, and Boomer had the photo evidence to cherish the memory extremely fondly.

Blossom and Hana retreated behind Mike while Bubbles finished up her phone call with Robin and Brick admitted the next child on set.

“Welcome to the North Pole,” he said with all the cheer of an old tire. Nonetheless, his cheeks dazzled. “What’s your name, kid?”

She looked up at him but didn’t say anything. Boomer noticed her shyness and decided he better intervene.

“Hey there,” he said, taking a knee so he could be on her eye-level. “Merry Christmas.”

That alarmed her even more, and she hugged Brick’s leg.

“What the—” Brick put his hands up like he didn’t know what to do with them. “Great.”

The girl’s parents were busy talking to Mike about the picture packages and didn’t seem to notice what was going on.

“Uh,” Boomer said, ready to flag them down before the little girl got scared or started to cry. They’d been lucky this morning with only one child throwing a temper tantrum out of the tens they’d seen.

“All right, kid. I hope you have a good grip.” Brick floated off the ground with the little girl clinging to his leg and flew over to Todd’s throne.

Boomer was so flabbergasted by his brother’s gross disregard for this child’s safety in front of her parents that he was momentarily stunned where he kneeled. It was over in about two and a half seconds, with her parents none the wiser and the little girl still in one piece, miraculously. Brick peeled her off him and dropped her on Todd’s lap.

“Name,” Brick demanded. And then, reluctantly: “…To check you off the Nice List.”

The little girl looked up at him with wide-eyed wonderment, or maybe fear. “Morana.”

“Morana. Super. Tell Todd—I mean, Santa—what you want. And smile for the camera.”

Todd didn’t miss a beat and wrapped his arms loosely around her to hold her safely in place. “Morana, that’s a pretty name. Wanna tell me what you want for Christmas?”

Morana pointed at Brick. “That one.”

Brick turned as red as his messy man bun. Todd wheezed.

“Oh, yeah? Well, that one’s taken, but I bet I can get you a picture together. How ‘bout it?” Todd asked.

Boomer was up and moving in a blue flash. “That can be arranged.” He shoved his brother with a healthy burst of Super strength, and Brick all but fell on his knee next to Todd’s throne. Boomer waved back at Mike for the picture.

“Big smile now!” Mike said cheerfully, and snapped the picture.

“What the hell is up with these kids?” Brick asked when Morana skipped back to her parents and started chattering at them in a language Boomer didn’t recognize but assumed must be all good things from the way she grinned from ear to ear. “They get bolder every year.”

“Or you’re just getting softer,” Boomer teased.

“Yeah, right.”

Blossom laughed at something Hana said on a nearby bench, drawing both their eyes.

“Whatever you say, man,” Boomer said.

xxx

Todd’s party was a nostalgic and long-overdue affair later that evening. Unlike Boomer, who had to make do in a small studio apartment on the outskirts of Citiesville where the rent was more manageable and his commute didn’t matter when flying anywhere took only minutes, Todd lived in a big house he took care of for his often absent, globe-trotting parents. Blossom, Bubbles, and Robin had taken the initiative and strung up Christmas lights, while Boomer created and managed the playlist for the night. They had a good crowd with old friends from high school and new ones from work and college gathered for no excuse other than to have a good time.

Butch, Buttercup, Mike, and Todd had set up beer pong in the basement, where most of the festivities were taking place. As usual, the shit talking and macho bravado had soared to ludicrous heights.

“Come on, BC,” Todd goaded. “Money shot, right here.” He fluffed his Santa beard, the ends of which were damp with beer. Buttercup had one cup left to hit.

“I’m about to straight-up tea bag you with this ping pong ball, Todd, I swear to god.” Buttercup tried to focus on her aim after too many beers and the distraction of Todd’s stupid Santa beard.

“Do it, fucking do it,” Butch said, bobbing on the balls of his feet and slightly manic with the competition and holiday cheer, probably.

“I’m gonna fucking do it!”

“I don’t think you can fucking do it,” Mike said.

“Ohhhhh!” Butch hollered when Buttercup lost her temper and threw the ball too hard. It bounced off Todd’s beard and fell on the floor, leaving the last cup untouched.

“Mike, you cheater!” Buttercup shouted.

Mike burst out laughing.

“All riiiiight, the Toddster’s final shot. You filming, babe?” Todd asked.

Hana, across the table from Boomer, had her phone out and poised. “Kick their asses, Toddy.”

“Yeah, bring it on, Toddy,” Butch jeered.

“Oh, it’s about to be brought.”

“Oh god, please, you peaked in high school,” Buttercup said.

“Hey, he plateaued,” Mike said. “There’s a difference.”

“Just take the damn shot!”

Todd shot, hit the rim of the solo cup, and missed. Buttercup and Butch threw up their hands and whooped. They were still in the game, and the stakes were even higher now.

Boomer squeezed Mike’s arm in a silent excuse and went to change the music…only to find Brick and Blossom making out in the hallway like it was their last night on Earth.

The music was fine, he decided. No need to interrupt Brick and Blossom trying to fuse with the wall and face his brother’s cock blocked wrath. Discreetly, Boomer snapped a picture on his phone and texted it to Bubbles.

[Boomer: Shooketh]

Bubbles’ reply was lightning fast.

[Bubbles: More like shattered!!]

[Bubbles: Better get out of there before they catch you lol 💀]

After another hour (and Brick and Blossom’s reemergence from the wall in one piece with not a hair out of place because god forbid), Boomer and Mike decided to head out early. They went back to Boomer’s apartment, where a very excited Pomeranian welcomed them home.

“Hi, Pumpkin!” Mike brightened like the sun and scooped up his favorite girl, left in Boomer’s care while he was away at college. “Who’s ready for a walk?”

They walked Pumpkin and let her tire herself out running around the suburban neighborhood where it was too late at night for any cars to be out. A half hour later, they were curled up on the loveseat with Pumpkin snoozing in her fuzzy bed at their feet and an old black-and-white Christmas movie playing on low volume on the television.

“Hey,” Boomer said, lifting his head from Mike’s chest to look at him properly.

Mike set aside the hot chocolate he’d been drinking and pulled Boomer up by his waist. “Hey, you. What is it?”

Boomer smiled. It was silly, really. “It’s nothing.”

“Oh?” Mike returned his smile and leaned closer. He smelled like soap, a hint of chocolate, and something else that made Boomer want to bury his face in his neck.

“Just happy,” Boomer said.

“Really? I can’t tell.”

Boomer sat up a little higher. The neck of Mike’s old lacrosse jersey he wore dipped down his shoulder, too big on him and softer than a cloud. He pressed a chaste kiss to the underside of Mike’s jaw. “How about now?”

“Hm, nope, I don’t think I quite got that.”

Boomer threaded his fingers though Mike’s short, dark hair at the nape of his neck. Feeling coquettish, he gave his ear a nip. “How about now?”

Mike shifted on the couch and pulled Boomer’s bent legs onto his lap. His voice was as warm as the hot chocolate he’d been drinking. “I think I’m starting to get a vague understanding.”

Boomer laughed and painted a trail of kisses along Mike’s jaw, up his chin. He pressed a strong hand to his chest and put a little power behind it. Centimeters apart, he could taste the lingering heat of the hot chocolate on Mike’s breath. “And now?”

Mike’s eyes drooped and darkened. His hands slipped around Boomer’s waist, under the jersey, a silent entreaty. “I think you can do a little better than that, Angel.”

The secret nickname broke Boomer’s resolve, and he kissed his boyfriend full on the mouth with all the confidence and shamelessness he couldn’t give him that morning at the mall surrounded by children and their parents. Mike’s shirt soon found its way to the floor along with Boomer’s borrowed jersey. The loveseat was too short to accommodate Mike’s height comfortably, and after a few moments Boomer held him close and flew them to the bed in a flash.

“I’ll never get over how hot that is,” Mike said, breathless.

Boomer blushed, unable to help it. He was careful with his strength around Mike, but sometimes the X bonded to his bones pushed him to the raw, carnal boundaries of humanity. Mike’s hand on his cheek drew him out of those spiraling thoughts.

“I mean it,” Mike said. “I love that part of you. And I trust you completely.”

Words did not come easily, nor did they seem appropriate in that moment. Boomer bent to kiss Mike again and pull him as close as he could get. Wrapped up in the warm sheets and each other, Boomer’s silly little thought that he had never been happier grew and swelled to heights he never could have imagined before Mike. They lay there together, lazy and sleepy, as the credits of their forgotten holiday movie played on the television.

“One more semester,” Mike said, “and then I graduate.”

“I can’t believe you’re almost a college graduate,” Boomer said. “It feels like you left ages ago.”

“Four years is a long time, but it’s not forever. And you should get ready.”

Boomer looked up at him. “Ready for what?”

“To move, of course.”

“Move?”

“Hey, I love how cozy your apartment is, but I’m pretty sure Pumpkin would appreciate her own room once we’re living together full time.”

Boomer sat up properly. “You… You want to move in together? With me?”

“Of course! The only question is, where do you want to go?”

Boomer covered his mouth. Of course he had thought about getting a place with Mike, but that always seemed like the distant future. What if they didn’t stay together? What if the long distance was too hard? What if Mike met someone else at college? Brick didn’t talk about it much, but after a few too many drinks one night the year Blossom and Mike both left for college, he’d confessed how afraid he was that he would lose her forever. How can the old be exciting and fun compared to the amazing, new adventures she would be having?

But from the way Boomer had caught them all but absorbing each other at Todd’s tonight, Blossom seemed perfectly happy to keep him. And Mike…

“You’re serious,” Boomer said.

“I’ve never been more serious.” Mike took his hand and kissed his knuckles carefully. “I can’t wait to start our lives together.”

Boomer could have cried. He almost did. Life was hard, even for a Super like him. With endless bills to pay and the occasional monster to dispose of, sometimes he felt like he was being pulled in too many directions without anyone there to help pick up the slack. But this… This was his.

“Me too,” Boomer said. “And I don’t care where we go, as long as it’s together.”

“Well, cool. In that case, if you’re not opposed to it, was thinking farther north, like Metroville. There are some great photography jobs there that I want to apply for, and the music scene is bigger than it is here—”

“Yes! A hundred percent yes, let’s do it. When do we leave?”

Mike laughed. “June 1st, as soon as they hand me my diploma.”

Six months. It had a date now. Unthinking, Boomer threw his arms around Mike’s broad shoulders and hugged him tight. “I’ll mark my calendar.”

“It’s a date.”

Incidentally, they did not get much sleep the rest of that night.

xxx

I told myself I wasn’t going to do a ton of fluff, but damnit all, Boomike is SUPER CUTE and I couldn’t help myself. Let them have the happy ending they deserve. Thanks for reading!

[yurtletheturtlehenderson]

COSMIC - S3:E1; Chapter One, Suzie, Do You Copy? - [Pt. 4]

A Will Byers x Reader Series

Summer brings new jobs and budding romance. But the mood shifts when Dustin’s radio picks up a Russian broadcast, and Will senses something is wrong.

Warnings: Hopper being a c*p 🤢 [ACAB BABEY], mentions of animal death, very brief mentions of anxiety

**Y/H = your height, ex; short, tall etc H/C = hair color**

||𝟑𝐫𝐝 𝐏𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐏𝐎𝐕||

"Alrighty. One scoop of chocolate, that'll be buck twenty five."

Steve places the cone in the girl's hands, smirking to himself when her hands meet his. With a shy yet charming grin he mumbles a soft 'there you go' and suddenly her hand is no longer touching his. The brief physical contact didn't seem to mean quite what it meant to him, as she looked rather eager to get back to her day at the mall. But Steve still saw a fighting chance when he spotted the gold letters displayed across her sweatshirt.

"Ah, Perdue." His eyes light up in recognition, and he sends her a silly smile. "Fancy."

She smiles brightly and Steve's spirits lift. She nods, handing over the money and readjusts her purse. "Yeah. I'm excited."

"Ah, you know I considered it." Steve nods, fingers flying across the register. "Perdue, but then I was like, you know what?"

A light air of resolve falls over him and the across the counter begin to shift as uncomfortable smiles flit across their faces. The second even trying to wipe the amused expression off of her face at Steve's obvious attempts at her friend. A knowing look is then passed on between the pair as Steve continues, seemingly unaffected. 

"I really think I need some real life experience, ya know, before I hit college. See what it feels like to, kinda uh, like, I don't know," He shrugs with a charming smile that doesn't quite reach the girls who now boredly lick at their melting ice cream cones. "See what it's like to earn a working man's wage, you know and uh-"

The register he fiddles with decides his time is up, its circuits shorting out as they did every few weeks and stuck itself into one endless high pitched beep that cuts him off. Flustered, Steve attempts to save the conversation not before subduing the intrusive noise, as he mutters a quick apology.

"-I think that's really important, and uh,"

"Yeah, totally," She responds, choking back a pathetic laugh.

Rolling with the punches, Steve shrugs goofily still wearing his best smile.

"Yeah, anyways, this was like, so fun," he laughs, the nerves now overtaking him. "We should, like, I don't know, maybe hangout? Like this weekend or something-?"

Yet again, he is cut off as the change he intends to give her spill out of his hands and onto the counter.

"Oh, sorry about that," he fumbles as she begins collecting the scattered coins off the counter. "Uh, I don't know, maybe next weekend?"

"Uh, I'm busy." She laughs uncomfortably as she tucks the coins away into her purse.

"Oh, that's cool. And I'm-" Steve nods, scratching his head. "I'm working here next weekend so... the following weekend is probably better for me."

"Uh, no. I'm sorry, I can't."

Her friend begins to laugh into her ice cream and even she is biting back a smile as she hurriedly collects herself to leave and Steve nods.

"Okay," The girls chuckle to themselves as they make their leave for the door. "Thanks."

"I..." Steve stumbles, his voice awkwardly trailing off as they do. "This is my first day here, so..."

But they were already filing back out into the crowds, giggling between each other at his poor attempts. Not that he could blame them.

"And another one bites the dust."

He sighs heavily, head sagging over his shoulders before swiveling around to face the girl carrying a mischievous glint in her eye and that damned scoreboard. Scrawled across the top of the divided two sections; YOU SCORE, which remained completely blank, and YOU SUCK which carried a total of five--

"You are oh for," --now six. "six, Popeye."

Steve nods bitterly with his arms folded over his chest. "Yeah, yeah, I can count." He sighs.

"You know that means you suck."

Against all odds - and the bitter taste of annoyance on his tongue - Steve still finds a smile creeping up on his face, however forced.

"Yep, I can read, too."

The spark of mischief in her eyes is fueled like a small flame, and a cocky smile twists her lips. "Since when?"

"It's the stupid hat." Steve groans, ignoring her comment and saunters over to lean against the back counter. "I am telling you, it is totally blowing my best feature."

Robin tucks away the menu-turned-score board back against the wall before folding her arms on the counter, draping herself lazily in the back window.

"Yeah, company policy is a real drag." She drawls. "You know, it's a crazy idea but have you considered... telling the truth?"

"Oh, you mean, that I couldn't even get into Tech and my douchebag dad's trying to teach me a lesson, I make three bucks an hour and I have no future? That truth?"

Robin's eyes drift past his shoulder and she quickly gestures. "Hey, twelve o'clock."

Steve's head whips over his shoulder to find a small parade of girls striding towards the counter, reigniting the nerves in his gut. "Oh, shit. Oh, shit. Okay... Uh..."

He turns back to Robin, his eyes darting across the counter as his mind races. Robin can practically hear the silent pep talk he's giving himself.

"I'm going in. Okay?" He says, more to himself than her. He nearly whips around to face them had it not been for the sudden hesitation brought on by a burst of confidence. "And you know what?"

He rips the tacky sailor's hat off his head pulling a curl loose that dangled on his forehead as he smirks. "Screw company policy."

Less than impressed, Robin doesn't even attempt to hide her boredom. "Oh, my god, you're a whole new man." She deadpans.

"Right?" He shakes his head around on his shoulders in a goofy manner as he backs away, drawing out a weak chuckle from the girl.

In one step he whirls himself around to face the small posse of girls at a frightening speed, even startling several gasps out of them.

"Ahoy ladies! Didn't see you there," he shouts, propping himself up on the counter with his arms. Several girls in the group watch him wide eyed and still a bit off put. "Would you guys like to set sail on this ocean of flavor with me? I'll be your captain. I'm Steve Harrington."

"Oh, god." The red head mutters to herself, exasperated as her friends begin to giggle.

"Can I get you guys a little taste of Cherries Jubilee? No? Anybody? Banana Boat? Four people, four spoons?"

Robin watches from the back room as the fire spreads, a wince overtaking her face as she steps back to her board, uncapping her pen as his boisterous voice echoes throughout the ice cream parlor.

"Sharing a booth? Anybody? It's hot out there."

Make that oh-for-seven.

⊹ ⊹ ⊹

"And I know this is a difficult conversation to have..."

Hopper's unsteady voice travels at a slow pace as he digests the words on the scrap of paper in his hands. His face is contorted in an uncomfortable grimace as he hears them leave his mouth but he tries to persist.

"but I hope you know that I care about you very much. And I know that you-"

"Eye contact-" Joyce softly reminds, from where sits opposite, her legs dangling off the empty pharmacy counter.

There's a brief lull in the station between songs before a familiar melody spills from the wire speakers in the corner of the store, Patsy Cline's She’s Got You. It's quiet and hard to hear but the lyrics still seep into Hopper's subconscious, briefly aiding his nerves in throwing his attention off course as he meets Joyce's deep brown eyes.

"And I know that... we both care about each other very much." Immediately he rejects the words coming off his tongue and shakes his head at her choice of words. "This does not sound like me at all."

"Just keep going. Come on." She reassures.

Hopper draws in a deep breath, clutching the makeshift script between his balled fists that were tucked nervously in between his knees. "Which is why I think it's important to establish these boundaries..."

He squints, straining against his anxieties to remember the words she had helped him brainstorm. "moving forward..." 

he sneaks a peak at the crumpled up paper in his hands, earning a soft chiding from Joyce who shakes her head.

"No looking. You know this. Come on."

Another deep inhale brings an uneasy look on Hopper's face as he shakes his head, tucking away the paper back in between his knees.

"so we can build an environment... uh... where we..."

Joyce silently watches with a series of encouraging nods, her hands gently waving like that of an orchestra conductor.

"all feel comfortable and trusted and open..."

Joyce nods once more, a light in her eyes as that silently encourages him. That puts him at ease. "'Share our feelings'..."

"...to sharing our feelings-- This isn't gonna work." He shakes his head, giving into the discomfort building all around him and he rises to his feet. "Um, it's not gonna work. It's not gonna work."

"Yes, it will!" She scolds. "I promise."

He shakes his head as he expels another patch of nerves, and joins her on the counter.

"Oh, come on." She pleads softly.

"Maybe I'll just kill Mike," he grunts sarcastically. "I'm the chief of police, I can cover it up." [👁👄👁]

Joyce gives his knuckles a reassuring pat before she sends him another encouraging smile. Even as he leans against the counter that she is currently hoisted onto, he still manages to tower over her. 

"You got this." She gives another reassuring squeeze, and Hopper feels like a cheesy bastard for noticing the timing of it all. The swelling of the music and the spark she left whenever their hands met in the past few months, but he didn’t mind. "I promise."

The music seems to grow louder around them, and she still hasn't taken her hand from his. He finds himself smiling down at her with that goofy smile he had been wearing a lot lately. It only seemed to make an appearance around her, and he knew this.

"I really don't know what I know,"

Joyce meets his eyes with a genuine look, something familiar brewing in both of their chests. And that scares her. Her mind returns to Bob and the grip of fear tightens around her heart as Hopper looks at her like that.

"You want to have dinner tonight?" He asks, finally breaking more than one kind of silence that lingered between them.

Her heart catches in her throat, and she looks away growing bashful. And uncertain. Joyce can still feel his eyes on her and as he grins down at her flustered expression.

"You can give me some more pointers."

"Oh, I... Um..." Her hand leaves his and settles on her knee, and she returns her gaze to him with an apologetic look swimming in her eyes. "Um, I... I have plans."

"Okay, sure." He smirks, much too enamored with the awkward smile that graced her face to be offended by her answer.

Another comfortable silence befalls them as they sit enjoying one another's company. But even this moment is short lived in the wake of the customer bell announcing a new visitor to the store. Joyce perks, gesturing excitedly to the front as she excuses herself.

"Oh, a customer." Breathlessly, she heaves herself off the counter and eagerly makes her way to the woman up front. "Hey, Carol!"

"Oh, hi, Joyce!" The woman beams as Joyce scurried across the store to meet her. "How are you? So good to see you."

Hopper watches the exchange from where Joyce had left him standing, his eyes locked on the woman who had so quickly and so sneakily became such a vital part of his life. It was only logical to him that this friend of hers, Carol was so happy to see her; Joyce had a way with everyone she met. Not a single person left her company without their day brightened. She knew how to make everyone feel welcomed, heard and loved.

"She's got you,"

Looking at her now, there was no denying it. Not anymore. Hopper wanted that for her, and he hoped more than anything he could be the one to give her that.

||𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫'𝐬 𝐏𝐎𝐕||

The sun beats heavily down on my neck and shoulders the most, and I shiver every once in a while when I feel a bead of sweat fall down my skin. With a groan, I readjust the backpack on my shoulders and put all my energy into just keeping up with Max and Lucas and not on the burning sensation on my skin.

"This isn't fair," I pout. "Heat's my whole thing, I shouldn't be sweating like this."

"Well, good news is we're nearly there," Dustin assures, though I do not feel very comforted.

"Aren't we high enough?" Lucas asks, tugging at the large bag he was lugging over his shoulder.

"Cerebro works best at a hundred meters."

I groan up at the sky as I continue the hike up.

I began to hear spouts of quieted laughter from behind me but it's quickly cut off by Max's flat remark.

"I'm pretty sure people in Utah have telephones."

"Yeah, but Suzie's Mormon." Dustin replies.

"Oh shit." Lucas says surprised. "She doesn't have electricity?"

She's five or six steps ahead of me with her back turned and yet I can still make out Max's eye roll. "Oh, that's the Amish." She corrects tiredly.

"Mormans are super religious white people," Dustin begins. "They have electricity and cars and stuff but since I'm not Mormon, her parents would never approve. It's all a bit... shakespearean."

"Shakespearean?" Max indulges, a smirk in her voice.

"Yeah," Dustin answers, puffing his chest out a little. "Star crossed lovers."

"Right."

"Well, regardless Dustin," I begin, sharing a smile with Will. "I can't wait to be introduced."

I see Dustin perk up even more, and my smile grows. "Yeah?" He asks hopefully.

"Yeah!" I answer. "I wanna be a good sister. Can't wait to repay you for being so cool with me and Will, ya know?"

"Guys?"

I bite back a laugh but my smile is still triumphant. Dustin stops in his tracks, the others stopping as well seeming more than relieved. When Dustin turns to look at me, his face is hardened completely in a threatening glare.

"If you do or even say anything, I swear I will-"

"GUYS!"

Me and Dustin break away from our small fight and everyone turns to find Mike and El several feet down the hill. They're standing hand in hand and sending us all weak apologetic smiles and I feel my heart sink.

"This was fun and all, but uh..." Mike trails off, tapping his watch obnoxiously.

"I have to get home." El finished.

All mischief I was previously feeling with Dustin vanished, quickly replaced by guilt as I stole a quick glance at his saddened expression and the duo before us.

"We're almost there!" He says, completely bewildered and I can hear the hurt in his voice.

"Sorry man," Mike says, not sounding very sorry at all. "Curfew."

He starts to back away down the hill and he takes El's hand and whispers something to her that I don't catch.

El sent us all a warm look, as if nothing was wrong and for the first time I was upset to see her smile.

"Good luck," she says, before following on Mike's heels with an elated giggle.

I stare after them, my eyes burning holes in their backs and my hands no doubt burning holes in my pockets if I wasn't careful enough.

"Curfew at four?" Dustin asks, finally catching on to the majority of our summer without him.

"They're lying." Lucas huffs.

I see Will shrug angrily next to me. "It's been like this all summer."

"It's romantic," Max offers but even she doesn't sound so convinced.

"It's gross."

I shake my head, letting out a short sigh.

"It's... not healthy." Another flicker of anger attacked me suddenly, and I looked at all my friends bewildered before my glare landed back on the retreating couple. "And what the hell happened to 'friends don't lie'?"

"I don't know but it's bullshit." Dustin replies, his voice sad and filled with disappointment. "I just got home."

I look back over my shoulder and give my brother a sympathetic smile but I know it won't fix anything.

"I'm sorry Dustin. I really didn't think they would do it this time. They seemed so excited for you to come home."

He meets my eye and nods. If I look close enough I can see him rebuilding himself.

"Whatever... They're loss, right?" He smiled at us all and gestured to the hilltop behind us. "Onwards and upwards."

He takes off for the hill at unnatural speeds for our condition and cheers excitedly into the air. "Suzie awaits!"

Well shit, more climbing.

I groan, head landing on Will's shoulder in a tired pout. My voice isn't alone for as soon as I do I hear Max and Lucas throw back similar whines at the remaining trek ahead.

By the time I pick my head up off of Will's shoulder, everyone else is already several steps ahead. I sigh, ripping my stiffened and tired legs from where they rooted into the ground and start after them. Readjusting the backpack over my shoulder, my eyes drill into the top of the hill- the finish line - as I push ahead.

"Think they'll carry me if I fake a leg injury?" I chuckle to Will under my breath.

There's a small silence aside from the distant giggling of El and Mike as they descend the hill and the panting of the others as they run out of breath from the climb above us. I look to my right where Will was previously, only to find him several steps behind me. His back was turned to me and he was nervously clutching the bag of wires he had been carrying.

I took a few cautious steps towards him, my heart pounding for reasons I did not understand.

"Will?"

He scrambles back, jumping from one foot to the other as if dancing on hot coals and it looks as if he sees something in the grass.

"What, what is it? Will!"

He snaps out of his trance, turning to me wide eyed and now several steps closer to me. I quickly bridge the gap to stand by his side, searching his eyes carefully. He casts one last lingering glance out onto the grass where he was previously standing before meeting my eyes. There was something he was holding back, something deeply uncertain in the way he held himself and I got a sinking feeling in my gut.

A sinking feeling not unlike the night I found him outside the arcade. Anger quickly bubbles to the surface at the thought of something else getting him, and without a second thought I take his hand in mine.

He seems to relax a great deal at my touch, and he looks greatly reassured and instantly so am I.

He was still Will.

There was a silence that hung between us as he put on a smile for me. It was far from genuine, that I knew and the only thing it reassured me of was the fact that something definitely scared him.

Will looks past my shoulders, and gestures. "Come on, we better catch up. We've got some revenge to enact." Another forced laugh is let loose and he starts off after them.

Tries to at least, but he's pulled to a stop when I don't move an inch, my hand still tethered to his. He stops, looking back at me curiously.

"Will, you know you can tell me anything right?" I see a flicker of fear in his eyes. "I'm always going to be here for you, no matter what. And so are your friends. Well,"

I laugh bitterly.

"you know what I mean."

Will presses his lips into a flat smile that doesn't quite reach his eyes, and nods a little too eagerly.

"I know," he reassures. "I promise."

One final flicker of fear flashes in his eyes as he seems to purge it from his system, quickly replacing it with a bright and happy expression. He tugs gently on our interlocked hands and gestures up the hill.

"Now... you ready to meet Dustin's first girlfriend?" He asks with a growing smirk.

I shake my head as a small laugh bubbles up despite the anxiety brewing fresh in my stomach. It still lingers in the back of my mind, but slowly boils down to a simmer, melting away as I meet the now genuine smile of Will's and I find myself giving in to the temptation of blissful ignorance. My legs begin carrying me to his side and quickly we start pacing up the hill with matching grins.

He might be able to tempt me with the offer of getting back at Dustin for now, but there's still a thought - a feeling - burning in the back of my mind. Something is definitely up with Will. The problem is, I don't know what and even worse, I don't think he knows either.

||𝟑𝐫𝐝 𝐏𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐏𝐎𝐕||

The endless parade of rats dart through the overgrown blades of grass, blending perfectly into the summer breeze passing through their surroundings. An undeniable instinct draws them onward to Brimborne Steel Works as sure as it set their skin ablaze in a horrendous flameless fire that ignited their insides just from their path even mingling with the Y/H, H/C girl who lingered nearby. Even a slight change in direction of the breeze had given them, the hosts, a feeling similar to standing atop a fresh layer of cooling magma that sent them scurrying off their path and was even strong enough to send pins and needles in the heels of their masters previous host.

They don't know their master, of course, or what a master is or why they have blended colonies. All they do know is the unceasing pull in their gut to follow orders. Orders to scavenge the unscavengable, feed on the inedible, and flee, flee... Flee.

And now hundreds of them scurry across the dying grass surrounding the abandoned steel works where they soon disappear inside. The wearhouse floor comes alive as hundreds more file in from every nook and cranny that can possibly be found. Their speed is fast enough to create its own gentle breeze that sweeps away several stray leaves that have collected on the concrete over the years as they head for a single steel stairway.

The enclosed space is soon overflowing with a sea of rats that create a symphony of pitter patter as their tiny feet scuttle down the metal staircase and into the deep lake of shadows that sat under the wearhouse. The only light that found its way down in the depths of Brimborne was the skylight leaking in from the doorway that illuminated the only possible clue to the sudden phenomenon;

Scattered across piles of glistening pink and red jelly were the hundreds of rats that had found their way home. The new home promised to them by the seemingly never ending pull in their gut. But the pull had mysteriously stopped when they reached the basement. But the presence of something dark and sinister remained.

The driving force - the pull - had not vanished but had instead morphed into a warm buzzing that grew intensely worse. It grew hotter and hotter, shaking their small bodies harder and harder as it spread to every cell at unnatural speeds that crippled them. They twitched and squealed in discomfort as they fell to the floor, their last cries for help before erupting into the very goo that they laid in.

The basement was filled with pop after sickening pop as the rats exploded into nothing, all of them and their remains glistening in the single beam of light just outside of the realm of shadows that held the true monster.

This monster that had poisoned Hawkins before. This monster that had spread its rot and death, and inevitable decay with everything it touched. However...

This was not the return of the Shadow Monster.

For the Shadow Monster had never left.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · · All links are provided in the comments might not be accessible via the app BUT should work on the mobile website and desktop website. Please use them. Possible Warnings to black readers, and any other readers of color who might be triggered I have included several petitions to save POC facing the death penalty. However, first, here is the masterlist of black mental health resources if you need them. I've posted it many times but mental health is so important, and getting treated properly by people who truly understand you and your experiences can make all the difference, im sure. All my love 💓

Black Mental Health Carrd



[picture text id: there are other people on death row who can still be saved, petitions below]

Below is a link to @ SUNSETSAPPHICS twitter thread from the picture up above filled with several links that each take only a couple seconds to sign each, that i strongly urge - that I ask you to sign. You could potentially save a life. Please sign, spread the word anywhere and everywhere, tag people on your message board, tag people here, make a chapter about somewhere, idc just let your voices be heard and make a difference in these people's lives! Save. A life! It has happened before and we can do it again!

[link]

Petition to Abolish the Death Penalty

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Tag List: @dickkwad @aimee-lucass @iblesstherainsdown-in-africa   @ @miscellaneoustoasts @happyandlonely-blog @missmulti @youpi-chan @peeperparkour @ba-responds @bibliophilesquared @blogforhoes ​ @witch-of-all-things-soft @shawkneecaps @whothefuckstolemykeds @mirdall @fishswimbetterunderwater @daughter-of-the-stars11 @stranger-things4 @kpopanimegirl @nightbu-g ​ @lozzybowe @bluechildrenlickmytoes

[spicycreativity]

Howl- Ch. 3

Chapter: 3/10

Add'l Notes: Fic is posted in full on my AO3, WizardGlick

Chapter content warnings: Depictions of alcohol use

“Nothing,” Remus pronounced. His breath ghosted over Virgil’s ear and he shuddered, pulling away so he could look Remus in the face. Remus was still in his work clothes and he smelled, not wholly unpleasantly, of sweat and dirty water.

“Nothing?” Virgil ran his pointer fingers behind both ears, just barely resisting the urge to dig in with his nails and see for himself, dammit.

“I think you’d know if aliens had stuck a tracking chip in your head,” Remus said, his own fingers dancing across the countertop toward the basket of enamel pins by the register.

Virgil ran his fingertips across his temples, still feeling for something, some marking or scar. “But if it wasn’t aliens...”

“Far be it from me to be the voice of reason,” Remus said, “but are we sure you weren’t just sleepwalking? Or high on peyote?"

Virgil continued to track Remus' fingers as he stuck his hand in the basket. "If you steal anything, it comes out of my paycheck." Not strictly true, but it would make Remus pause.

"I wasn't gonna steal!" Remus exclaimed, holding up his hands. "But now I kinda want to."

"Please don't." Virgil sighed and put his face in his hands. He'd noticed a strange metallic taste in his mouth after waking up properly, and even the desperate mouthfuls of Monster he'd been forcing down his throat couldn't seem to touch it. It hadn't touched his exhaustion much, either. Whatever Virgil had been up to last night had not been a restful activity.

"Oh, c'mon, don't freak out." Remus' hand sat heavy on Virgil's shoulder, warming him through the thin fabric of his Baphomet t-shirt. "You were probably just sleepwalking. It happens all the time. Roman used to sleepwalk all over the place when we were kids. One time we even found him asleep in the yard. Naked, just like you."

Virgil peeked over his fingertips. "Really?" Remus was not the type to lie to make someone feel better, but this story seemed a little far-fetched.

"I swear," Remus said, eyes wide with childish solemnity.

The only customer in the store stepped up to pay, and Remus stepped aside to let Virgil deal with them. He made faces behind their back, contorted himself into absurdly sexual poses and stuck out his tongue and wiggled his hips like Elvis in his prime. Virgil pursed his lips to keep from laughing. It had been a hard decision to ask Remus for help with this, but Virgil was glad he had chosen him.

Patton was a big softie and nearly as prone to panic as Virgil was. If he didn't escalate Virgil's paranoia about aliens then he would probably end up pressuring Virgil to make a police report. A useless endeavor, since no crime had actually occurred as far as Virgil knew. Roman and Janus would just make fun of him for being a tin foil hat-wearing loony. And Logan… Well. He might judge. He might not. But Virgil didn't want to look stupid in front of him. Not to mention that Logan would ask questions, force Virgil to face something he wasn't ready to face.

So Remus it was.

"Thank you," Virgil said when the customer had left and Remus had stopped gyrating his hips. "I know I'm being dumb and it was probably nothing."

"Janus isn't here right now," Remus said, pouring out the basket of enamel pins. They scattered and clicked across the countertop. "But if he was, I think he'd say--" Remus shifted his weight and crossed his arms, "'Now what did we say about negative self talk?'"

Virgil chose not to remind Remus that Bienvenue was only a few blocks away and he could easily go get Janus if he wanted. "Yeah, yeah. Whatever. I know it wasn't aliens."

"But if it was peyote, you do have to share," Remus said, his attention already back on the pins. He poked through them with one dirty fingertip.

Virgil watched for a moment, then joined in, turning the pins to face Remus so he could get a good look at them. Remus seemed particularly fixated on one shaped like a death's head moth. "That one's six dollars."

Remus braced his elbows on the counter and clasped his hands under his chin, lashes aflutter. "You know how you could repay me for checking your skull for alien trackers?"

Virgil nearly reached for his wallet before he realized what Remus was actually getting at. He sighed, biting back his smile all the while, and made a show of turning to inspect the rotating sticker display. "Uh-oh," he said in an exaggerated monotone. "I'd better make sure all the stickers are properly organized. Gee, I sure hope no one shoplifts while I'm doing that."

There was a brief moment of silence. It was broken when Remus, presumably done pocketing the pin, said, "So bowling night?"

"Huh?" said Virgil, trying to find the dirty joke. Maybe something about balls?

Remus pulled his phone out of the pocket of his work pants and shook it at Virgil. "Pastor Patton's little group bonding venture?"

"Don't call him that," Virgil muttered, digging his phone out of his pocket. Sure enough, of the messages he'd been ignoring all morning, one was a new group chat. He read through the messages. "How did Patton get your number?"

"Roman gave it to him."

"How'd he get Janus' number?"

Remus grinned. "I gave it to him. No way am I suffering through some corny adult bonding shit without backup."

"Am I not backup?" Virgil asked, unsure whether he should be offended.

"You can't be backup," Remus said dismissively. "You're the bridge. You forced me 'n' Roman to reunite, you made us all hang out. You're the bridge. You won't be as mean as I need you to be."

"I'm mean!" Virgil said. "I'm so mean!"

"Say something bitchy about Patton right now. Quickly!" Remus began to snap his fingers.

"Um," said Virgil. "Uh. Sometimes-- Well, sometimes he can be kinda… Smother-y?"

"Oh, please." Remus rolled his eyes. "That was almost healthy communication."

"Fine." Virgil crossed his arms over his chest.

Remus let him pretend to be upset for roughly three seconds. "But you are coming, right? Or are you gonna spend the night playing with Data's joystick?"

Virgil's cheeks went hot. "Of course I'm com--" He paused and reconsidered his choice of words. "Of course I'll be there. And Logan will, too."

"Wonder if I can start a betting pool," Remus said thoughtfully.

The bells on the door tinkled and Virgil leaned over to see past Remus. "Hi, welcome in," he said in his best customer service voice, which wasn't very good. "Let me know if I can help you find anything."

"Just browsing."

"Alright."

"Well," said Remus, affixing the moth pin to his hi-vis vest. "See you tonight?"

"Yeah," said Virgil. "Please be nice to Patton."

Remus winked and started to back out. "Sorry! Hazing is mandatory."

He slipped out the door, leaving Virgil to marinate in his anxiety.

--

Although he was exhausted, Virgil went for a short walk after work. He wandered by Bienvenue and stared at the fancy suits in the window and wondered how Janus always had the audacity to dress like he was attending a funeral at a high-end night club. His feet took him forward and he smiled a little. If there was one thing Janus had in abundance, it was audacity.

He stopped again by the reflecting pool at the Plaza and read the plaque. It had very little information and devoted barely half a sentence to the supposed curse. A shiver ran down Virgil's spine. He took a deep breath and carefully did not panic. As Logan would say, he shouldn't jump to conclusions. He needed more data.

Virgil didn't want more data. He would happily chalk his misadventure up to sleepwalking and banish it forcefully to his subconscious, if only it would never, ever happen again. He shivered again despite the balmy weather and muffled a yawn behind his hand. Time to go home and get whatever sleep he could before the inevitable disaster of bowling night.

He managed to get home without hitting any potholes. Whatever stormy weather had threatened Vaillant earlier in the week seemed to have passed, and he was treated to a spectacular view of a great blue heron flying low over the road. He even managed a few hours of sleep before he had to wake up and get ready.

He chose his outfit with care, scrutinizing it through Logan's eyes. What would Logan like? What did Logan like? Virgil had no idea about his preference in men or how he slotted into it.  Was it his height? His body shape? His eyes? What should he play up to make Logan like him? So Logan wouldn't regret choosing to be with him?

He dithered over this until he made himself late, and chose an outfit that he felt good in: long sleeves, long pants, the reassuring weight of his hoodie on his shoulders.

He kept it zipped up to his neck even after he entered the warmth and light of Vaillant's singular bowling alley, Gator Lanes. His friends were already seated. Waiting. For him.

Despite the wash of guilt, Virgil slowed and surveyed the scene. Patton and Logan sat on one of the low, pleather couches with a pair of bowling shoes between them. That left Roman, Remus, and Janus wedged on the other couch. They all looked like they were getting along, which was good. Roman and Remus were speed-eating French fries while the others talked.

Virgil approached from the back, gesturing for Patton and Logan to be quiet. He didn't miss the way Logan's eyes lit up; it sent a pleasant little rush of adrenaline all through his veins. When he was close enough, he leaned over and stole the pineapple off the rim of Janus' hurricane glass. It was dyed red from grenadine and tasted vaguely of rum.

"It's fine," said Janus, casually flipping Virgil the bird. "I wasn't saving that or anything."

"Guess you'll have to get another one," Remus said.

They started bickering about how drunk was too drunk for bowling night, so Virgil came around to Patton and Logan's side of the table. He kissed Logan hello while Patton explained about the shoes: "They were out of your size, so I got a size down instead of up, because I know you wear those really thin socks and I didn't want you to slip."

"Thanks, Pat," Virgil said. His hand found Logan's, somehow, and he smiled. "I wouldn't have put that much thought into it."

"That's why you have me!"

"Can we start now?" Roman asked, wiggling in place.

Patton stood up to fiddle with the control, and Virgil forced himself to nuzzle Logan's jawline with his nose. He wanted to do it, but the idea of being witnessed while he did so made his skin crawl.

Logan turned his head so they were nose-to-nose and smiled before pulling away. "Do you want me to order you a drink? We were going to, but we weren't sure what you'd want."

Roman threw a straw wrapper at them. "We're just about to start!"

"You're up second, too," Patton said cheerfully, flopping back down on the couch. "I put us in alphabetical order."

"I'll go, then," Virgil said. He squeezed Logan's hand and let go of it, stood.

"Don't forget to put your bowling shoes on," Janus said, eying Virgil's ratty leather ankle boots. Janus himself had somehow done the impossible and matched the colors of his suit to the dull red and blue of Gator Lanes' bowling shoes, making his whole outfit look deliberately tacky.

"When I get back."

"I'll go with you!" Roman got to his feet. "I already know I'm gonna lose. What's one more drink?"

"That's the spirit!" Remus said.

"Ha," said Patton, "I get it."

They turned to go, Roman bumping Virgil with his hip to prompt him forward. "So you and Logan, huh?" he said once they were out of earshot. "How's that going?"

"Fine," Virgil said, feeling the blush crawl onto his face. It was a short walk to the bar, but it suddenly seemed like miles and miles.

"You sure keep things close to your chest, don't you? Didn't say a word to me." Roman crossed his arms and looked sideways at him.

"I didn't think I had a chance!" Virgil exclaimed. "Wait. Did he say something to you?"

Roman winked at him, shushed him, and bellied up to the bar so he could order. Virgil hung back, one hand on his wallet, but Roman waved a hand. "Janus has a tab going," he said, turning back to Virgil.

"Does Janus know he has a tab going?" Virgil asked.

"Uh, yeah, it's not like I stole his card."

"It's not you I'm worried about," Virgil said, thinking of Remus and the moth pin.

"Ugh, you worry too much."

"This shouldn't be news to you, Roman, I have 'Worry Too Much' Disorder." Virgil flicked at his zipper pull. "Wait, so did Logan say anything to you?"

Roman smiled, even laughed a little. "Uh, yeah, he practically asked me and Patton for permission to ask you out. He made us promise not to tell you. Honestly, it was kinda cute how nervous he was."

"Nervous?" Virgil repeated. It was obvious now, but it hadn't occurred to him that Logan had lost just as much sleep over Virgil as Virgil had over him.

A harried-looking bartender popped up behind Roman, slid their drinks over, and vanished again practically before Virgil could force out a 'thank you.' Roman passed him his vodka Red Bull. "Let's go."

"Alright." Virgil sighed. It was probably better not to try to wring the details out of Roman, especially since he'd said that Logan had told him not to tell.

They reached their lane and he  scooted in next to Logan, snuggling up a lot closer than was necessary, especially given that Patton was currently up to bowl. "Welcome back," Logan said.

Virgil set his drink on the table and began to change his shoes over. "Having fun yet?" he asked Janus. He was still a little resentful that Remus and Janus didn't think he could be mean anymore. Just because he didn't want to shit-talk Patton behind his back. Sure, Remus had been the one to say it, but Virgil had no doubt the sentiment originated with Janus.

"Sure, I guess there's a sort of primal thrill in hurling a 14-pound ball at a target," Janus said primly.

"10 pounds," Logan said.

Virgil bit down on his lip to hide his smile.

"I'm sorry?" Janus tilted his head.

Logan gestured at the bright yellow ball sitting in the ball return. "10 pounds, not 14." Patton's ball came back, followed shortly thereafter by Patton. "16 pounds," Logan said.

"Pat's strong," Virgil said, elbowing Patton as he sat down. Janus bit down on an ice cube. "By the way," said Virgil, feeling a spark of pure evil manifest inside himself. "Have you guys made cutting boards yet?" To Janus, he said, "It's kind of a tradition."

"I'd heard," Janus said, shooting him a covert dirty look.

Virgil smiled at him and turned to Patton. "Janus would rather die than say so, but I can tell he's excited."

"Oh, good!" Patton said. To Janus, he said "I was actually a little worried you wouldn't want to do it."

Virgil's killing strike was delayed slightly by Remus' reappearance and Roman's subsequent disappearance, and he knew he had to act quickly or Janus would wiggle out of it when Virgil was taking his turn. Remus finally sat and stopped crowing about his spare, which no one had witnessed. Virgil pounced. "Bienvenue is closed on Sundays, isn't it?" he said to Janus, as though the shop hadn't kept the same hours for years. "Maybe you guys could do it then."

"The weather should be clear, too," Logan chimed in. Virgil looked at him, trying to gauge if he had picked up on the game, but his face gave nothing away.

"Works for me!" Patton said. "I'm putting the finishing touches on a coffee table for somebody down south, but I can make time on Sunday."

"Great," said Janus with a plastic smile Virgil knew he usually reserved for difficult customers. The daggers in his eyes promised a thorough bitching-out later, but Virgil didn't even care. So he wasn't mean anymore, hm?

"All you," said Roman, tapping Virgil on the shoulder.

Virgil nodded and took a long swallow of his vodka Red Bull. It was stupid, but walking up to bowl always felt like walking out on stage. He knew full well none of his friends were paying attention and even if they were, their friendly teasing was nothing to worry about. They knew when to stop. But still, his heart quivered as he approached the lane. By sheer luck, he managed not to get a gutter ball, then turned and hovered awkwardly as he waited for his ball to come back.

Logan caught his eye and winked at him, not even pausing in his explanation of the physics of bowling. Virgil smiled back, and suddenly everything seemed that much lighter, that much more bearable. He really had to stop worrying so much.

[lifeofroos]

Part 34: Ever seen a god in IKEA?

In short: Nico gets therapy from Dionysus. In this chapter, Nico goes to IKEA to fix something, with a special guest. The rest can be found on AO3 and FanFiction.net! Also in Tumblr tags like Nico di Angelo, Trials of Apollo, Pjo, etc.  This might be crazy: Chapter 34: Coffee in a cardboard cup ‘Is this sort of like Hephaestus’ workshop?’ My dad looked up at the big, glowing IKEA logo over our heads. 

‘Let’s say it sells you the parts to start your own Hephaestus’ workshop at home.’

‘Then why are we here when we could have gone to Hephaestus?’

‘There is a restaurant. Also, most mortals cannot go to Hephaestus’ workshop.’ 

‘They could in the old days!’ 

‘These aren’t the old days anymore.’

‘That is no reason to go to a dump like this.’

I sighed. ‘Let's just get inside.’ 

‘So, what do you need? Let’s be quick, I don’t want to be here any longer than necessary.’

‘We’ll have to follow the route through the entire store. That might take a while.’

Hades threw his hands in the air, which made his robes flutter. I wondered what the mortals saw through the mist. ‘Why?’

‘Store design. Probably a tactic to generate money.’

‘How stupid.’ 

‘Let’s just go, dad. I know what I want, so we can quickly walk past the bedroom- and kitchendisplays.’

Even though Hades speed walked through the IKEA, pulling me along, it took about fifteen minutes to get to cupboard display. My dad was walking so fast we almost skipped them. 

‘How big is this store?’ Hades yelled when I told him to stop. A few people looked at us. 

‘Big. Okay, I am going to choose one of these cabinets.’

‘Yes, you will. Why, again?’

I stared at the cabinets in front of me. It needed to be thin and about a metre high. For a second, I wondered whether I should just lie about dads’ question. 

‘I wanted to make a memorial for mom. And for Bianca.’ Also Bianca, although I might have mentioned that to soften my intent. 

‘...ah.’ He ruffled with his sleeves. ‘Did you already tell me that?’ 

‘Only in passing,’ I muttered. Not with so many words. It was difficult, okay?

‘Okay, eh, but, I think it is a good idea.’

I looked up and gave him an awkward smile. ‘Yes. Thanks.’ I turned back to the cabinets. 

‘I think I want the black one. With the glass window.’

‘Not the white one?’

‘No, that one is thicker, I don’t want that if I can have the other one.’

‘Oh.’ He looked a little confused. ‘Than we’ll take the black one. Can you carry it?’

I turned around. ‘We don’t have to, not yet anyway.’ I looked around. ‘Do you see a dispenser with pencils and paper somewhere?’

‘Paper and pencils? What do you need those for?’

‘We need to write down the number and unpronouncable Swedish name of this cabinet...’

‘Nico, we can just get out of this store. I’ll ask Hephaestus to make you a cabinet.’

I shook my head. ‘I wanted to get it here. Then it feels like I made the cabinet myself without having to cut wood or something.’ 

‘This is a pre-made cabinet!’

‘It only looks like that.’ Oh, dad, if only you knew. I noticed a pencil dispenser close by and walked towards it. Like a good citizen, I took only four pencils when I could have totally gotten five. 

After I had written down the product information, I looked back at my dad, who looked very confused by everything. ‘Now let’s go to the storage room before we buy a bunch of useless stuff.’

‘How long are we going to be in here?’

‘I don’t know, maybe twenty minutes?’ 

‘I want to get out. And I don’t feel tempted to buy anything at all here, I don’t know why you are afraid we’ll buy useless stuff.’

I was tempted. I wanted to have the fancy black lamp, for example. I had to admit, my father was a good IKEA partner. He stopped me from caving. ‘We’re almost there.’ 

My father nervously looked around. ‘What even is the storage room?’

‘It is like the Underworld of IKEA. We pick up a box with everything we need to built the cabinet ourselves.’ 

‘What an...’ He took a pause. ‘...unique concept.’ I looked over my shoulder. 

‘Yes, it is.’

‘This is it?’

‘it is.’

‘Also, Nico, I think it is a very good idea.’ I looked up from taking the box of the shelf. Dad was looking at the ground. ‘To make a memorial. I could not do such a thing. It would hurt too much to remember my past.’

I took a second to reply. ‘Yes, I get that.’ He looked like he wanted to say something, but it did not come. Not now, at least. 

‘Okay, now we got this… this.’ Hades looked at the box. ‘And now? Somehow it feels like we are still stuck in this prison of interior design.’

‘We can get something to eat at the restaurant. Or something to drink.’

‘Yes, yes, let’s do that. Eh, where do we keep the…’ He narrowed his eyes, while trying to read the Swedish on the side of the box. 

‘We’ll just carry the you-know. Come, I want a cup of something.’

The restaurant amazed him even more than the store itself. We sat down at a table next to the window, each with a cardboard cup of coffee.  He took a deep breath. ‘I want to say that I might have something you want to put into your shrine,’ he mumbeld. 

‘Memorial cabinet.’ I didn’t like to call it a shrine.

‘...Memorial cabinet.’ He shifted into a different position.

I took a sip of my coffee. It tasted like sludge, but it was better than what I had drank at Hephaestus’ place. ‘What then?’

My father snapped his fingers. A picture of my mother appeared out of thin air. ‘This. I kept it for quite some time, but I think...’ He swallowed. ‘...you know, I also learn things from the things you tell me. And I think keeping something like this around isn’t healthy for me? But it might help you.’

I looked at the picture. It was a black-and-white photo of my mother as a young woman. She was wearing a hat, a waistcoat, gloves and a string of pearls. She was smiling widely at whoever was holding the camera. 

I smiled back at her. Hades put a and around his cup. He knew he should get rid of it, he just could not get himself to destroy it for good. 

I looked up at him. ‘Thanks. I’ll put it into my cabinet.’

‘I know you will.’ He looked out the window, to the people in the parking lot. ‘I still have a locket as well, and a picture of Bianca. You can have those too.’ 

‘Maybe it can be our memorial.’

‘I think I  it has to be your memorial.’

I slowly nodded, while taking a sip of my sludge and trying not to gag.

While we were carrying the cardboard box into the parking lot, I looked up at my dad. My heartrate increased. ‘You said it should be my memorial.’

He immediately knew what I was getting at, probably because he had been thinking about since I told him I wanted to make a memorial. ‘Nico, eh, about Alecto, and the Lethe.’ He lowered the box to the ground. ‘In hindsight...’ he pulled on his sleeve. ‘In hindsight I think that is one of the worst things I have done.’ He looked like he was about to cry. ‘When you and your sister were small, it seemed like a good idea. I wanted to free you two of the weight of being demigods, or at least the weight of having a dead mother. I should have known...’ He moved his hands to the side. ‘...I should have known it does not work that way. That it was absurdly stupid to even think of it.’ He held a hand in front of his eyes. ‘Sorry, Nico. Sorry. If it means absolutely anything, sorry.’ 

I looked at him. ‘It doesn’t bring my memories back,’ I muttered, ‘But now that I see that you…’ I looked at the ground. ‘It does mean something to me, dad.’

‘Not everything.’

‘Not everything. But something.’ 

He took a deep breath. ‘Something is good,’ he said. Slowly, he picked up the box again. ‘Let’s get this to...’

‘To camp?’

‘To camp. But next time, you are going to get it made by Hephaestus. Maybe you can even ask Dionysus to request it. Those two go way back.’ 

Yes, they did. ‘Is that very well known?’

‘Of course it is. You could even say Hephaestus was the first person Dionysus ever helped with his mental issues.’ He sighed. 

We brought the box to my cabin via teleportation. Hades forgot to say goodbye. He just left me alone with my box, a few posters for the mental health action me and the Apollo campers had been working on, and Will, who was asleep on my bed. 

I laid down next to him. He groaned. ‘Nico?’

‘Who else.’ 

‘Everything okay?’

‘Yes. I think I might go to Hephaestus in a few days, to talk and to let him make my cabinet more beautiful.’ 

‘Nice.’ He drifted off to sleep again. Not soon after, so did I. 

A/N: the trouble with the world today beyond a doubt, is coffee, in a cardboard cup. 

It might be more than just Coffee In A Cardboard cup LMAO. But go listen to that song, it was in the musical ‘And the world goes ‘round.’ I love it, it is my happy song. 

Nico and Hades managed to avoid all the ghosts of people who went into IKEA and never got out this time. Be safe, people, don’t let IKEA take your soul. Don’t sell it for meatballs. 

Sorry to any Swedish readers. I am sure the words on the side mean something, but I imagine that to an American they look like nothing, that is why I wrote it this way. 

[flying-nightwing]

Act II: The Racetrack

Hey guys! I’m not sure I’m entirely satisfied with that one, especially the dialogue feels off. But this is something to drag me out of my writers block so yeah I’m not at optimal capacity. Anyhow, I hope you still enjoy!

Side note, I think this is the fic I used the least italics lmao. Also this is semi edited

Part 1 in Masterlist! 

Part 3 is out now!

Pairing: Tim Drake x Reader

Word count: 3256

Warnings:

 regular amount of violence, language

“Tim”

At the sound of his name, Tim jumped up from his sleep. He had no idea he had even closed his eyes, but there he was, sleeping perfectly still in his chair in front of his open computer. He blinked, looking down to his coffee, then up to Bruce.

“I’ve got a location”

That woke Tim up better. He was suddenly alert and attentive. “Where is it?”

“The Gotham Cup” Bruce replied, showing him two VIP passes to the Nascar race later that day. It made sense now that he said it, as the big crime families would meet there, as each one of them owned a racing team. “It’ll have to be a no cape mission, we’ll have to operate in broad daylight”

Tim nodded with a sigh. He wasn’t a fan of that type of recon, as he’d have to socialize as Tim Drake-Wayne the CEO and answer questions that would distract him from his mission. It also meant potentially dealing with press corps and cameras, which meant he’d have to be extra careful in his recon. At least the attention would be divided between him and Bruce.

“What time?” He asked.

“It starts at two, but the social event is on at one”

Tim looked down to his watch. It was now almost 11:30. He finished his now cold coffee and stood up with yet another sigh. “Guess I’ll have to go make myself presentable, then”

Bruce chuckled, but didn’t add anything more.

---

The sun was high in the sky and the racetrack was buzzing with activity. People with teams’ shirts and caps were mingling around, and the line of the bet counter was stretching all around the building. Tim walked beside Bruce, both of their VIP lanyards hanging from their necks and contrasting with their black dress shirt. They turned heads as they passed the lines and different booths, mostly ignoring the whispers that arose around them. They soon reached the VIP entrance, getting in without having to raise the badge or lower their sunglasses.

It still surprised Tim, even after all this time, the sheer power of the name Wayne. 

They climbed the stairs to the terrasse, where there were considerably less people, and those who were there were dressed in fancy clothes rather than fan gear. There was s soft ambient music playing in the background and plenty of seats under the roof’s shade. The whole place screamed money, yet Tim found it extraordinary bland. 

“You take ten o’clock, I’ll take two” Bruce instructed. “Meet at the bar for the start of the race”

“Got it” Tim nodded, checking his watch. He had exactly one hour and three minutes to try and find out more about which big shot would have beef with city hall. He began walking towards the rail, leaning on and pretending to be interested in whatever the entertainers were doing on the turf in the middle of the track. The seats around were gradually filling with fans who were willing to sit still for hours under the sun to watch cars drive in circles, eating their overpriced hotdogs. Tim didn’t understand the fun in that, but then again, they would probably not understand his idea of fun either.

With a sigh, he pushed himself from the rail and returned to his task. However, he didn’t see the person walking by and bumped into them. “Oh f--” He stopped himself from cursing out loud. “Sorry”

He paused, squinting at the semi familiar face in front of him. You smiled.

“What, no champagne to spill on me this time?” You teased as you recognized the handsome face from the gala the other day. The connection clicked in his eyes as he understood where he saw you before.

“Oh, hi!” He hurried to answer. “Uh, it’s you”

“So I’m told” You chuckled. He wouldn’t have recognized you on the spot, with your wide hat and brighter clothes. At first glance you seemed like a totally different person, but as he took in your features, it was obvious it was you.

He could recognize those memorable traits everywhere.

“So uh, you left before I could talk to you, the other day” He scratched the back of his neck. “I haven’t seen you much around either”

“I’m not from Gotham, so that would be pretty normal” You replied as you leaned on the rail. “I’m only here for a few days”

“Oh?” He asked, suddenly a little more interested. He raised his sunglasses on his head, looking at your directly. “I hope you weren’t too spooked by what went down at the gala”

You tsked, shaking your head. “Poor mayor” You sighed sadly. “It’s terrible what happened. At least no one else was injured. I was terrified when the smoke went off, but I’ll be okay”

He gave you a small, awkward smile. “Glad to hear it”

“So, do you have a name?” You changed the subject.

“Tim” He nodded, then told him your name in return. “Nice to formally meet you”

“Pleasure’s all mine” You gave him a charming smile. “So, what does such a handsome man do in such a place?”

He visibly blushed at your compliment. You could see he was not used to receiving blunt raises like that, but he really was handsome and you had to say it out loud. His bright eyes and sharp features drew you in just as much today as they did a few days back at the gala, where you had desperately wanted to stay and chat for a while before kidnapping the mayor. You still had time to spare today, so you wouldn’t miss your chance now.

“I- uh” He scratched the back of his neck, chuckling nervously. He didn’t seem like someone who would get nervous, but you thought it was cute. “My father, he wanted me to come with him. Publicity stunt I guess. What about you?”

“My cousin is a pilot” You lied easily. “I’m here for support”

“Oh! That’s great” He lifted the corner of his lips into a small smile. “Which car?”

Your expression turned sheepish. “... 43? 34?” You tried. “Something with a 4. I don’t know! I don’t follow the sport at all”

He chuckled. “Here for the free cocktails?”

“Guilty” You gave him a complicit grin. “Honestly my family just said ‘hey, let’s go to Gotham for the Nascar cup!’ and I followed because why not”

“I get it” He nodded as you began walking around side by side. He was more relaxed now, his hands in his pockets and his head tilted toward you. “My family does that all the time too. If one wants to go somewhere, usually the bunch follows”

“You have siblings?”

“Yeah” He grinned. “Four brothers and one sister, and I’m the middle child”

“Oh wow” You blinked. “How do you even deal with this?”

“By outsmarting them at every turn” He replied with a sarcastic sigh. “That and arming myself with enough information to blackmail them into doing my shit”

You laughed, throwing your head back slightly. You didn’t know, but his heart skipped a beat at the simple action. He thought it sounded like the sweetest melody he wouldn’t mind hearing again. “Sounds like a good survival strategy” You said. “So, you’re the smart one, eh?”

“I think I’ll go ahead and take this one” He nodded after a small pause. “You have no idea how low the bar is”

You laughed again, pushing a strand of hair behind your ear. “It sounds like a lot to deal with” 

“Do you have any siblings?”

You were walking slow around the outside part of the VIP lounge, under the sun. Clouds were coming and going, giving you intermittent moments of shade. It really was a nice day outside. You looked down. “No, not really”

You could feel his eyes on you, but it wasn’t harsh. Just curious, like he didn’t want to pry and ask. However, he had a gaze that seemed to see through everything at that moment, and you really didn’t want him to see through the half lies you built to avoid the truth. 

“I was adopted” You admitted, looking back up to him. That wasn’t a lie.

“Oh” He blinked a few times in surprise. “So was I”

Your eyebrows raised at his quick answer. You half expected the bundle of invasive questions that usually came with it, but at that moment it was clear he wouldn’t require further explanations. You were glad he understood.

“We already have more in common that I would have expected” You smiled sweetly. “I’m glad we bumped into each other again”

“Y-yeah, me too” He nodded with a timid smile this time, like that little shy front took over again. You deducted it returned when you made a move on him so far, but he didn’t seem to dislike it either. 

“Maybe we--” You paused when you caught a glimpse of the time on the giant board on the other side of the track. If you kept going on like this you’d miss your window. Shit shit shit. “Oh shoot”

“What’s wrong?”

You recomposed yourself and gave him an apologetic smile instead of straight up bolting away. “I told my mother I’d be down by the pits for the beginning of the race, she’s going to start calling me non stop soon”

His face dropped slightly in disappointment. “Oh, yeah, maybe you shouldn’t worry her”

“Sorry, Tim” You pouted, before lifting your finger and going to the nearest bistro table, and took a napkin from the fancy display. You then snatched a pen from a man walking by, ignoring his protests, and you wrote your number on the fragile material. yOu handed back the pen without looking at the angry man and went back to Tim, who had an amused expression on his face. “Here”

“Thanks” The smile returned on his lips as he glanced down quickly at the digits.

“Call me sometimes, yeah?” You winked, walking backwards. He lifted the napkin and nodded, then you were gone.

As you jogged down the secondary staircase, you forced yourself to put Tim at the back of your mind. There was no rule in your contracts to regulate your private life, but it was obvious you couldn’t let anything get in the way of your mission. You got down to the pits and sneaked in a small storage room, where a change of clothes was waiting for you. You pulled off the stupid hat and took off your clothes to change into a tight black suit and a holster belt for your gun and the roll of duct tape at the bottom of the bag. You finally pulled the black helmet as the finishing touch and got out undetected.

You returned into the pits like nothing, blending with the flow of people gradually becoming more important as you got closer to the garage #29. You really looked no different from the staff with darker suits, only missing the sponsors patches. Behind your visor you spotted the driver you were looking for, seemingly arguing with a blonde girl and walking away, throwing his hands in the air.

The timing couldn’t be more perfect.

You followed him as he watched intensely his cellphone, going somewhere quiet. He paused in a corner away from prying eyes, typing quickly. You stepped in front of him and waited a few seconds until his eyes lifted up to you.

“What the fuck do you want?” He grumbled. “Go back to work”

“If you’re asking so nicely” You said, pointing your gun at him as you dropped your bag on the floor. 

“Yo what the f--” 

You used his momentarily surprise to side step him and sneak an arm around his neck. He trashed in your hold until he went limp. You let him drop on the floor and began undoing his suit, pulling it off with a few difficulties when the limbs were concerned. You then slipped it on and bound the driver at the wrists and ankles, then taped his mouth and threw the roll on him. You returned to the pits, ignoring people who tried to talk to you, including the blonde from earlier. You went straight for the car and slipped in, only waiting for the crew chief to place one last word before you headed for the start line, getting into your designed position. As the other cars joined the start grid as well, you warmed up your tires like the rest of the pilots around you. You observed the commands of the car, making sure you hadn’t forgotten a function since your quick training in nascar driving. 

Soon enough, the lights turned green. You didn’t hurry like some cars, you opted to lay low in the main platoon. You would avoid getting attention to yourself that way. You especially chose an average team to hijack, so nobody would expect you to be leading or trailing behind. You made sure to spot your target a few cars in front of you; a bright orange car with the number 12 painted in blue. 

The pilot was your target. He was one of Gotham’s influential men, drawing attention with his sudden philanthropy gestures and involvement in city politics. He liked to flash his money out, and that apparently went through buying an entire nascar team and racing as the pilot as well. But his fervent support for Batman and his bunch of vigilantes got him a big red dot on the forehead by other influential characters of Gotham. Falcone did not appreciate the support for his enemy. 

You counted your laps, getting closer to the 34th. You launched your offensive, accelerating and taking your curves more towards the center. You swerved around cars to come head to head on the right of 12, taking your gun from the inside of your suit. You rested the nozzle on your elbow to stabilize your aim, then waited out the curve. As soon as the track hit the straight line, you shot three bullets in his neck and retreated your gun again. You saw the body fall back into the seat, the car losing control and crashing in another one. 12 went up in the air, flipping several times before the yellow flag went out. 

The medical staff hurried to the accident, and you knew they’d soon see the bullets and stop the race. So when the pits came into view, you got in. Staff were flagging you off, yelling at you in confusion as to your presence there. You only accelerated, knocking equipment as you went. You pulled the hand brakes to realize a 90° turn into the garages. People jumped out of your way as you escaped by the pits and to the outside of the stadium. You drove into several metal fences until you ended up in the fan zone. Only the security was there, but they were on foot or on segways, so they didn’t stand a chance. You tore through the Cup banner and drove straight for the highway. 

Drivers honked as you speeded by them, heading for the city before the police helicopters could spot you. The buildings would provide you with a much needed cover, even if the risk of you crashing would be greater with significantly more obstacles. As you entered the first shadow of the skyscrapers, you took an exit ramp to Chinatown. You accelerated in the traffic, rolling on the sidewalks and knocking down trash cans as you went. You crossed through five just-turned red lights, causing one small pile up at the junction of one of the big avenues. You knew the helicopter was hovering somewhere close, and the police began tailing you once you entered Gotham Lower. However, the motorcycles were no match for a Nascar grade car. 

However, you knew the game was on when you heard something being thrown onto your door and denting in the metal. A pointy end got through, and immediately, you knew what it was: Batman had entered the game. You were surprised he’d show up in the daylight. 

You were even more surprised when you noticed it wasn’t in fact Batman, but his pupil in red. He was on an unmarked motorcycle with a black helmet, trailing slightly behind so you couldn’t shoot him with a good aim through the window. So instead, you took a series of sharp turns in hope you could shake him off, as you didn’t have a rocket launcher to deter him from following you this time. You ended up in the Diamond District, where you decided to change your strategy. If he wanted a piece of you, he could have it. 

You made a last turn into a dead end alley, then made a U-turn and waited at the end. Soon enough, you saw Red Robin pull up at the other end. He put a foot down as he came to a halt, no doubt staring at you through the tinted visor of his helmet. You revved the engine a few times, your foot pressing on the gas pedal in controlled movements. He leaned on the bike, ready to accept your challenge.

Before he could prepare too much, you shifted gear and took off, clouding the brick wall behind you with smoke from your tires. He pushed the bike straight and accelerated too as you drove toward each other full speed. You were about to start a manoeuvre, but had to abort as three shurikens shattered your windshield. You stopped at the other end and faced him again, before punching your what remained of your windshield. Immediately after, you speeded toward him again. This time however, you didn’t leave him time to take out weapons. You deployed the emergency brake and gave a tug left to your steering wheel, making the rear of your car tracing an arch. Red Robin deducted your intention last second, and had to swerve into the pile of trash bags so as to not get violently reaped. You took the opportunity to drive off back into the streets, where the police presence had quadrupled and the traffic cleared. 

But you had a plan for that too.

As if on cue, two identical cars to yours pulled out from garages on both your sides. You changed formation, placing yourselves one after the other and changing the order every two intersections. When you felt like you had confused the police enough, you drove into an underground garage, forcing the police to slow down. You however, cruised over the speed bump without a hassle. After a tight, 180 degrees turn, you slipped into a side unit, where a member of your team closed the door right after. You stopped the car and heard the police fly by, holding your breath. Then, silence fell. You pulled off your helmet, then slipped out of the car through the window.

You took the phone your team member handed you, pressing the first and only number saved.

“It’s me” You spoke up when the other end picked up. “It’s done”

“Great work, (Y/N). Meet back at the corner of sixth and 24th” 

“Copy that” You replied and hung up, letting the phone fall on the ground and crushing it with your boot. You caught the bag with your change of clothes, slipping out of the suit and putting on the clothes to blend in outside. 

You sneaked out of the garage, regaining the busy streets of Gotham with a smirk.

[neverdoingmuch]

I just really love Two Person Love Triangles and Identity Porn. So, maybe a You've Got Mail AU? Or a superhero AU when one of them falls for both the masked hero and the secret identity?

because i love both of these aus i’ve written both!! but they’re pretty long bc i wouldn’t be me if i didn’t plot out an entire fic so the superhero au is here. 

as for the you’ve got mail au, i went off and watched the movie for the first time and i am delighted by your taste anon,,, the au works so well!! 

(okay for some reason tumblr won’t let me indent my bullets so idk how to fix that so big rip)

so we have lan & sons books, a company that prides itself on providing cheap books for everyone to read. think less evil corporation and more we wanted to provide easily accessible books for all people and ended up getting really rich off it

mr lan dadman was meant to be in charge but he ran off and lqr stepped up until lxc was old enough to take over and now lqr just kinda assists lxc when he needs help and does some other work

lqr is definitely the old guy who had a letter thing with this one woman who was enchanting but instead he was chatting to cssr and she was shameless 

anyway lwj works as *random high up job that joe fox has* and his best work friend (and real friend) is jin zixuan

jin zixuan is the heir to some coffee franchise and the two families have a deal which is why you have the cafe inside the bookstores

we gonna give lwj some friends

as for wwx, his mother owned a bookstore, the burial mounds (why did she name it that?? idk she probably told bssr that she wanted to call it that as a joke and bssr tried to call her bluff so she ended up having to call it that a la suibian)

anyway he grew up with his mother and grandmother and they left the store to him (idk what happened to them?? maybe they just retired and are now travelling the world while wwx gets to have the bookstore)

now for the actual plot!!

lwj and wwx met on omegle an instant messaging site and now exchange emails. wwx goes by yiling patriarch and lwj goes by hanguang-jun bc we want that flavour

so they’ve been emailing for years and they never share any personal information - wwx knows that hgj has a pet rabbit but not hgj’s name or his job

as for the significant others?? idk let’s pretend they don’t exist. 

wwx’s best friend nhs, who writes a column for so-and-so, always just comes over to his place and now he’s semi moved in and wwx isnt really sure why he’s here but he is. 

lwj just vibes bc i can’t see him putting up with a patricia unless his uncle  forced him to. even then he’d probably just be ~mysteriously~ gone while she’s home

maybe he has a really annoying pa who thinks its his job to come over and like make him breakfast. it’s su she,, it has to be

so wwx goes into work one morning and wen ning is waiting outside as he always is, ready for him to open and then like ten minutes later wen qing comes in and lastly granny wen comes in

why do they work together?? idk?? granny wen and bssr were close and so the wens and wwx kinda grew up as siblings? yeah i like that let’s go with that

so when cssr decided to go travelling wwx gets left with her store and he kinda knows how to run it but also he doesn’t have enough staff so he ends up hiring the wens (except granny who’s mostly there just to hang out with her family)

bonus: a-yuan always come to the shop after school and wwx gets to recreate the childhood he had with his mother with a-yuan. when the store closes wwx and a-yuan just twirl and twirl until they get too dizzy to stand up and then they lay on the floor and discuss their favourite book they’ve read this week. it’s very sweet

okay so the next day lwj gets to babysit his cousin/uncle/nephew/idk-how-they’re-related-person lan jingyi who is like eight or something?

they go out and hang at a festival and lwj does not buy him a goldfish bc i was very stressed by the way they treated the goldfish in the movie but he does get him balloons and a stuffed toy and plays all the games with him

eventually they’re walking back and see that the small bookstore near the new lan bookstore is hosting a story time so they go inside 

lwj walks in and he’s immediately taken by the atmosphere of the store bc that place was absolutely beautiful and then he hears this voice and follows it around to the back of the store to see the most gorgeous man he’s ever seen in his life sitting on a kinda too small chair with a princess hat? cone? thing on top of his head

he’d planned to stay for like one story and then take jingyi home but he ends up staying for the entire book and it’s definitely not because the guy reading the book smiled at him once or twice

after the story time ends, lwj is reluctant to leave so he ends up letting jingyi pick a bunch of books and looks at a few fancy first edition books with wen qing

and maybe his mother used to love collecting books - the old ones with the yellowed pages and beautiful pictures - and that’s why lwj helps out with his family business,, bc he wants everyone to be able to have books like that (never mind that all their books are like mass produced and lack any sentimentality & the staff dont actually care about the books)

anyway he sees wwx help jingyi pick out books and lets him borrow his handkerchief when he sneezes and lwj’s like oh nooo he’s good with kids too so now he has to talk to him 

so he goes up to buy the books and wwx’s telling jingyi about how much he likes daisies and lwj just blurts out “can i ask what your name is?” and wwx blinks but then smiles and is like i’m wei wuxian, but you can call me wei ying, and i own this store. what about you? and lwj is like wangji, you can call me wangji

wen qing takes one look at lwj and the way he’s staring at wwx and goes you’re going to come back aren’t you and lwj is trying so hard not to just run away so he just ignores her but then she mentions something about lan books and he’s Panicking and jingyi almost says that he’s a lan and lwj just kinda guides him over to a table and then goes back to flirt talk with wwx

anyway wwx ends up going on this big tangent about books and what they mean to people and the whole when you read a book as a child it becomes a part of your identity and who you’re going to become the way nothing else does (and lwj remembers his mother and her books) and then he apologises for going on and lwj is mentally going marry me, but he ends up calling wwx and his mother shameless

but it’s okay!! wwx & cssr are proud of it!

and then yada yada lwj buys the kinda expensive books and ends up awkwardly shepherding jingyi out of the store 

cut to the next day when the lan book store opens properly and lwj ends up telling lqr about how he met wwx and lqr is like >:/ the son of that shameless woman,, how terrible,, it’s okay he won’t be a problem for long bc they’ll be driven out of business. which isn’t the response lwj wanted but lxc seems supportive enough if a bit concerned about how it would work with them as business enemies 

business is already bad for wwx and it’s barely been a week since the lan store opened and he’s pretty bummed out but hopeful that maybe it’s a fluke

then nhs invites him to some fancy dinner with him bc wei-xiong they’re all so boring and smart and have opinions, please don’t make me have opinions so wwx gets dragged along

he ends up talking to lwj at the bar bc how could he not talk to the man who’s standing in front of all that fancy alcohol and getting some fruit juice. (he’d get water but lwj has had to put up with su she all evening so he needs something stronger)

anyway they chat and it’s pleasant but then after wwx gets approached by someone who’s like wow im surprised you’re talking to lan wangji and wwx is like lan?!

cue their passive aggressive argument around the food table complete with caviar and a turkey knife. 

now bc it’s lan wangji,, instead of making scathing comebacks he just makes like factual and to-the-point statements that end up being really bitchy (or does he intend them to be that way? it’s a mix of both of them tbh but in this case he’s definitely being bitchy on purpose) and wwx is spluttering bc that boy does not stand up well against hot and mad people

nhs ends up coming over and defusing the situation but wwx makes a point of stealing the rest of the caviar off lwj’s plate before leaving 

lwj ends up ducking out early as well to avoid su she and emails wwx that night at like 9:45 bc the guilt of being so rude kept him up late and yllz is like oh no that’s so sad ): but impressive! i wish i could zing people,, my brain just turns off the second i need to make a comeback

creative liberties,, wwx is good at teasing but not being genuinely mean? lets go with that

anyway now we get the delightful montage of wwx hiding behind cheese displays and lwj walking out of coffee stores with a newspaper covering his face as they try to avoid each other

when wwx gets in the wrong line at the supermarket lwj comes over and kinda glares the checkout woman into submission and gets her to let wwx use his card which wwx is really conflicted about bc why would he help me?? and once again angry lwj = hot lwj

a few weeks later wwx ends up asking hgj for help bc business isn’t getting any better but refuses to give any details and i refuse to have lwj watch the godfather so lwj just straight up messages him and is like tear that bitch apart

and so wwx decides to tear that bitch apart and asks nhs for help. nhs, fan of the arts and small businesses and local culture, is 100% down for it and writes a scathing article about lan books and how they’re destroying all the aforementioned things nhs cares about

it ends up getting a lot of traction and people show up to protest and wwx even goes on television

lwj ends up seeing the news coverage on the matter while he’s at the gym with jzx

jzx is 100% the guy who goes to the gym just to apathetically walk on the treadmill while lwj jogs

he sees the interview with wwx and lwj is like he’s not this nice in real life and jzx is like you met him?? and lwj is like mn. then jzx is like i bet he’s not as hot and lwj is completely silent but his ears are bright red and that’s how jzx knows that wwx is just that hot

also?? lwj goes on tv and says like three words and he’s kinda annoyed how the news decided to spin that but he also said like three words so what did he expect?

but, despite all the publicity, sales don’t get any better so wwx is like fine can we meet in person and lwj is like sure

he brings jzx along bc he doesn’t know the way there, it’s not because he’s nervous and kind of in love with yllz, it’s because he doesn’t know how to get to the cafe. (it’s two blocks from his apartment)

anyway jzx is like oof man it’s seems like yllz is wwx but he is that hot so not all is lost and lwj is like yikes no not happening im not going in but he also feels bad about standing wwx up so he ends up going in and sitting down in front of wwx

and lwj is like wei wuxian, all this publicity will do nothing to save your business and wwx is like lan wangji who do you think you are (or however that scene goes) but instead of lwj being asked to leave wwx decides he’s not gonna chicken out first so they end up spending like two hours having the most aggressive cup of coffee and chat he’s ever had

lwj is exhausted but he also refuses to give up

but then wwx spits something about how lwj is some cold, heartless suit who doesn’t actually care about or appreciate books so how can he possibly dare to think that he’s better than wwx and that hurts bc lwj had thought that he’d been doing exactly that so he leaves

anyway the next morning wwx is moping around the bookstore bc he didn’t get stood up, he swears. am i not cute enough he moans to wen qing and she’s like your hgj doesn’t know what you look like. but what about my personality? is that cute enough? and wen qing eventually manages to grit out that yes it is cute enough

wen ning comes in and is like are you okay? you got stood up? that’s good! your date might have been the rooftop killer xue yang! he got caught last night! and wwx is like i wish, i just got stood up like a chump

so they ignore each other for a few weeks bc wwx is very hurt and lwj doesn’t know what he’s going to say but wwx ends up caving and emails hgj about how guilty he feels and how even though wwx probably means nothing to lwj, he’s worried that maybe he did hurt lwj and also please hgj i still want to talk to you

now hgj never says a lot, he’s always really succinct and direct but this time he takes the time to write a proper apology. it’s not an explanation bc he doesn’t want to give this up, even if the yllz he thinks he loves is the wwx that he hates, but it is an apology

the next day wwx goes to lunch with granny wen and finally dares to ask her whether it would be okay to shut the store down. he doesn’t want, of course he doesn’t want to, but he doesn’t think he can afford to keep it open. granny just tells him that it’s okay and that if the time has come, the time has come

we don’t have to worry about wwx breaking up with anyone, so he just goes home and asks nhs if he can have some space and nhs quickly packs his stuff and goes home. as he stands in the doorway with his last box of stuff he tells wwx that he’s sorry and wishes he could help more and wwx sends him this tremulous smile but manages to hold it together until nhs leaves and then he cries and cries 

the next day he goes back to work and tries to stay bubbly and cheery even as he sees all of his shelves slowly being emptied and people who haven’t stepped foot in his store in six months are telling him what a shame it is and how they wish it didnt have to come to this and wwx is internally screaming

he manages to stave off any actual screaming but when he closes up that day he ends up going to the children’s section of lan bookstore and just as he had thought, none of the staff care about the books, none of them know any books and he ends up recommending a series to some young mother

lwj, who’d spotted wwx and come over to see if whether he was here to pick a fight, comes to the awful realisation that maybe wwx is right about his store lacking heart

he goes home that night and su she tags along even though lwj just wants space and the elevator breaks. he’s sitting there on the ground listening to his neighbour talk about reconnecting with family and the elevator button pressing dude talks about getting engaged and su she is just there whining about his job and the inconvenience and lwj goes fuck this. when the elevator starts working again he grabs his rabbit and goes back down to the ground floor, ignores su she’s shouts, and goes back to his childhood home

wwx gets stuck closing his store down. he looks around at the shelves and tables he’d grown up with and sees his childhood and a-yuan’s and countless moments he’s had with people he’s loved and realises he’s going to lose it all forever. he grabs the bell, the last thing he has left of the store and closes up for the very last time

in the meantime, lwj is living the high life. he hangs out with his bunny, gets to read pride and prejudice for fun and actually manages to get all the way through it and then his brother comes to visit

apparently he’d broken up with jgy bc he was gold digger-esque and had decided to run off with someone richer and lwj is like oh thats so sad ): anyway nmj is right there and he fills your heart with joy and lxc is like have you ever had someone like that? and lwj immediately thinks of wwx and is like fuck

his first order of business is to buy wwx’s shop bc it broke my heart that she didn’t get it back in the og movie and he starts filling it with books again. he buys ten copies of his mother’s favourite books and places them on the shelf by the door and then he sees a book that reminds him of jingyi so gets some of them and he sees a book covered in daisies and thinks of wwx. and slowly, slowly he’s building up his own library, his own store, and this time every single book means something and for once lwj looks out across the floor with pride and satisfaction

his second order of business is to apologise to wwx for being a dick. he buys some daisies and goes to his place and comes in and cooks soup for wwx. lwj apologises and tells him it wasn’t personal and wwx is like that’s not true, it was personal to me and it’s personal to a lot of people and lwj understands that now. he remembers the way he’d filled wwx’s store and left his own touch and bared his heart through each of those books and he understands. he doesn’t actually say this and just tells wwx that he wants to be friends 

lwj considers coming clean about being hgj but he knows now that he definitely loves wwx and knows that wwx currently hates him but damn is it hard not to say anything when wwx is telling him how much he loves hgj

anyway he’s like organise a meeting again with hgj 

i’d say it’s ooc for lwj not to come clean but this is the man who pined for x decades and just didnt tell wwx that his son was alive so like not ooc at all

so lwj decides he’s going to woo wwx as best as he can and organises to meet up with yllz and then goes and meets with wwx and they end up going to hang out and for some strange reason, even though wwx keeps getting stood up, he doesn’t seem to care too much. he keeps agreeing to meet hgj and when he doesn’t show is more than happy to spend the rest of his day with lwj

and slowly, they start to get closer. wwx takes a sip of lwj’s coffee and lwj buys him daisies. wwx brings him an interesting book and lwj tells him about his mother. they chat freely about hgj and lwj is happy for the first time in a long time

eventually lwj organises the final meeting. wwx is really confused about the place he picked but he’s hopeful that maybe this time hgj will show. after wwx and lwj’s farmers market date ends, lwj ends up asking wwx if he could love lwj and wwx is like you put me in such an uncomfortable situation. ie stammering and blushing and eventually going oh no ill be late and running off

anyway a couple hours later wwx finds himself standing outside his old bookstore and he refuses to look at it bc he doesn’t want to see what it’s become but then, through the open door of the store, a bunny hops out and over to wwx

lwj comes running out after it calling out its name (bichen?? flopsy?? rabbit?? one of them) and wwx looks up and is like oh,, it’s you, i’d hoped it was you and he’s all teary and lwj has a handkerchief that he’d embroidered himself (with gentians of course) and he’s like dont cry yllz and then they kiss and it’s beautiful

bonus: lwj takes wwx inside the store and shows him everything and explains the meaning behind every book that they’ve picked and then wwx does cry for real bc there is definitely an entire two walls dedicated just to wwx

do they open the store as a bookstore again and work together? does wwx end up writing books?? idk up to you. i like the idea that they open the store for story time and sell children’s books but lwj still works with lan & sons to get some heart in their stores and wwx works on his own books in his spare time

[kinetic-elaboration]

July 17: 2x26 Assignment: Earth

Finally finished up S2 of TOS yesterday. That was... a rough episode tbh. I’m just gonna say it: back door pilots are bad! They’re bad. If I wanted to watch that other show, I’d watch it.

Wow, they’re just really jumping right in, huh? “Here we are, on a routine mission into the past, using a time travel method that we invented nbd.”

Investigating desperate problems in the year 2020...2016.... no wait 1968.

Ooh, Spock in the transport room today. Does he have a whole extra random station there? That’s so weird; I’ve never seen that before. It’s like hidden in the corner.

Cat!! Cat!!

What a good actor. I’m still bitter that wikipedia has a whole section about the casting for “Isis the cat” that talks entirely about the human who played Isis for 2 minutes and nothing about the talented feline actor. Where did they find her? How did they teach her to act?

She has a lot of thoughts about Kirk.

I wrote down “Scully, you’ve got to see this” in my notes and I’ve already forgotten what it refers to lol. Some moment that I thought would fit well with my favorite x-files meme.

Change history, you say? Spock is intrigued. ...Admittedly, Spock is often intrigued.

“What if it turns out you’re an invading alien from the future?” Honestly...let him invade. You’re not supposed to be here anyway.

I’m pretty insulted by this. The aliens went through all this trouble to help in 1968...where are our alien helpers NOW?

The cat straight up attacked his face.

Kirk is so fond of Spock being fond of the cat.

“It’s a lovely animal. I feel myself strangely drawn to it.”

Kirk is way too confused by Seven--an allegedly human person with super-human abilities that he says come from aliens--and yet, he’s met Charlie X so??? Is this not the same?

Kirk’s got the whole crew checking in on zoom.

(I actually do like this sequence of him getting video calls from different parts of the ship.)

“Weren’t orbiting H-bombs a huge problem in 1968?” Looks at the camera like he’s on The Office. Not the subtlest bit of writing in the “social commentary” genre. I do say this with love, though. I always enjoy when they comment on contemporary problems.

“He has a totally perfect body.” Lol don’t distract these two bisexuals.

[soft meowing]

“The prisoner has escaped.” The way this is shot, it looks like he’s talking about the cat.

Hmm, I do love the decor. Very 60s. This honestly immediately feels like a different show, and a much more dated show; even when the Enterprise time travels, it tends not to time travel to... office space.

Love the little sounds the computer makes.

So is Isis supposed to be one of the fancy aliens? It’s never explained but one must assume she is.

Aw, he’s petting her paw.

So I assumed the cats sounds are real, but just dubbed. They’re not lol. Which I guess isn’t surprising: this cat makes a lot of noises! They were provided by a human voice actress.

Damn.... I want a secret bookshelf that turns around to reveal a super computer with a big screen. “Computer... play Netflix.”

That’s what Seven does in his spare time.

The computer is an AI. “Beta 5 snobbery” lol.

Where are OUR alien overlords to stop US from destroying ourselves before WE can mature into a peaceful society?

This is really masterful exposition lol. Not forced or awkward at all.

ST sure does love the snooty female computer trope.

“Get us the proper costumes.” Yes, get Spock his Requisite Hat.

Omicron IV....that’s one of the names they use in Futurama lol. Such nerds.

Another excellent Spock Hat.

I love Seven’s various IDs. Great style. I wish my driver’s license looked like those.

“Who do you think you are?” He hasn’t decided yet. That’s why he was shifting through his IDs.

Seven is not smart lol. Like, he should have figured out way faster that this lady isn’t one of the Alien Overlords. He asks her the code question, she doesn’t understand it, and he... assumes she’s just really in character? Dude, that’s what the code questions are for!!! To help you identify people! Otherwise you could just straight up ask: are you an alien?

Instead he’s like “oh, you silly alien, you’re playing with me,” and then is forced to trap her, reveal his whole mission, and ultimately ensnare her in his plan.

I want that typewriter. Voice recognition typewriter.

"My incompetence has made you aware of very secret devices." Well at least he knows.

Trained cat!

The alien overlords were killed in a random car accident. That’s ironic.

Oh look, a real rocket!

Brown pants + short sleeved shirt + tie is such a Classic 60s look.

This security guard doesn’t think it’s weird that this random dude has a cat with him? Is this part of Isis’s alien power?

Except for the part where it’s a weapon, it’s pretty cool to see all this build up to, like... launching stuff into space. Exciting.

Isis likes to be on shoulders. Just like Little Guy.

New hat for Spock. His outer wear hat, and now his fancy hat. There is something to be said for this ep, and that is Kirk and Spock in suits.

Amazing how they literally launched rockets with computers that old. Like seeing the big bank of primitive computers is totally wild. We put people on the moon that way! Amazing.

“Meow.” Lol, Isis is stressed so she’s speaking like a cat. That’s a pretty funny joke actually.

Seven is so incompetent. If he’d just let the Enterprise help, Scotty could have fixed that rocket issue in like 3 seconds.

Lol everyone’s just pulling Gary through space. Now on the Enterprise. Now in the office.

Why does this computer have a hug black screen if it only displays images on the small white circle?

"Spock and  I in custody. Main characters, doing nothing, knowing nothing, totally useless and irrelevant. I have never felt more helpless." Literally what is even the point of them today? Does Spock even have lines outside of “I like the cat”?

Isis is jealous of Roberta. Is she.. in a relationship with Seven lol?

Uhura is listening to everyone in the world. She probably has a universal translator on, but I do feel like this scene implies she just...understands all the languages.

So now the warhead is armed and heading to somewhere vague... in other words, everyone has collectively made the situation worse.

....Or this was Seven’s plan all along? To scare people into ceasing to be so careful with nuclear weaponry? As someone who knows humans better than this guy, I think this is a dumbass plan.

“That’s why so many people in my generation are kind of crazy and rebels.” Same, sweetheart.

Really this is just a story about bad communication. If Seven had told Kirk his plan upfront, Kirk would have helped him. And if Kirk weren’t so insistent on involving himself in something just because he happens to be somewhere he probably shouldn’t be, we wouldn’t have this issue either. The hubris of everyone.

Overall, just a really forced narrative imo.

Or that’s how it was supposed to be lol. The Irony of time travel. By it’s nature, everything has already worked out.

Kirk and Spock are like “You’re welcome. Peace out.”

Honestly... Isis was the only good part. Such a talented cat actor!! Or trio of cat actors, I guess. Had to do all those stunts and stuff.. .amazing. I also liked the concept of Isis. How she turned into a human later just to troll Roberta. How she’s never really explained--one must assume, an alien? Plus I pretty much never get tired of human + animal teams where the animal makes animal noises and the human just understands and answers in English.

As a stand alone sci fi concept...it was okay. Kinda dated by now. The alien tech was nifty and Roberta could have grown on me. Maybe even Seven, though he left a lot to be desire. That said, the narrative relied a lot on people getting in each other’s way for no reason, which I find very frustrating.

But as a Star Trek episode....no. The main characters were just nuisances on the side lines!! I’m not even sure what Kirk’s mission here was--to try to figure out what Seven was doing? And stop him if necessary? But he never really decided if it was or not, until the point where not trusting him would basically cause a nuclear war? I don’t know, I found it all very frustrating. The melding of the original show and the spinoff was not smooth.

If I were watching this in 1968, I’d feel very cheated. THIS was the season finale? That’s it? I don’t even get a real Star Trek episode and now I have to wait months for anything new?

And what I get after all that waiting is Spock’s Brain?? I’d be tempted to quit. If I had a tumblr in 1969 I’d be writing multi-paragraph rants about how the best show on television has completely nose-dived lol.

But then there’s The Enterprise Incident, which is one of the best episodes... I don’t know, man. It’s a conundrum. I’ve only seen maybe half of season 3 but from what I remember it’s very uneven: some of the best eps (The Enterprise Incident, For the World Is Hollow, Day of the Dove) mixed in with some of the worst (Spock’s Brain, The Paradise Syndrome), plus some that are good concepts but shoddily executed (The Way to Eden). So we’ll see what I think about it when I see it all in one piece, in air date order.

[hollypastl]

the disappearance of [REDACTED] ch.2

miya atsumu/reader

Summary: "MISSING: MIYA Y/N" It reads. Underneath is a picture of yourself. Age, height, weight. Everything important is listed. How embarrassing.

Genre: angst/mystery

Warnings: missing persons, time skip spoilers

Notes: crossposted on ao3 https://archiveofourown.org/works/28726002/chapters/70468146#workskin

chapter two: you will live and die for them because that’s your way

Osamu is still as a statue as he processes what his brother’s just told him.

It doesn’t seem real.

“That doesn’t make any— No. I know you’re you and she’s her, but you two are…” He trails off and starts wiping down the bar again. It’s a nervous habit Osamu picked up sometime when he wasn’t watching. “I mean... last week she didn’t act like anything was—”

Atsumu is busy reeling from his brother almost(?) complimenting his relationship that he almost misses it. “Last week?”

He nods. “Yeah, the stall was packed at the Friday game… She jumped in and manned the register so the rest of us could work on finishing orders.”

“Last week, though? You’re positive?”

He nodded.

“You saw her?”

From your usual court side seats, you could hear shoes squeaking and players panting. The thirty second row just wasn’t the same. At the same time, watching the game from a birds eye view gave you a new perspective and appreciation.

You leaned forward and locked on to Sakusa for the serve that would start the set. Your cheek sunk into your hand as his serve shot almost straight into the floor if not for a quick save by Komori that he bounced with only a single arm.

Someone across the way whooped and your eyes darted side to side as the ball hopped in the air and the setter shot a quick toss through the air. Your eyes landed on the spiker it was hurtling towards. From this far away, it was impossible to see, but you knew Suna well enough. Right now he was probably thinking something like, ‘There’s a three man block in front of me, is there really any use in jumping? I’m not gonna land a point anyway, so I might as well conserve my energy.” Still, he leaped for all he was worth and dinked it with his freakishly long fingers at the last second.

“Woohoo!” You screeched. Ignoring the fans who turned around to frown at you. Understandable. Why were you sitting in the MSBY Black Jackals section and dressed in black and gold merch if you were gonna cheer for the other damn team? You glare right back at them and slurp on your empty drink. The action only reminds you that you’re kind of hungry.

Inunaki bumps it back up all the same. Not surprising considering how slow and weak dinks are, but you gasp and groan aloud with the rest of the fans when Atsumu immediately tries to dump the ball back over the net. The play is messy and his hands are easy to read. Suna springs back up and spikes it down before the two even have a chance to tussle over it.

The buzzer rings and the EJP Raijin are awarded the point.

“Now that’s a failure of a setter dump if I ever saw one. Not what you usually expect from a player like Miya.”

“He does seem to be off his game today— oh, and there it is. Coach Foster is subbing in another player.”

“It’s only the second set, and the Jackals did take the first. There’s plenty of time for him to cool off and get back on the court to show us some of his monster serves.”

The commentators switch to talking about the serving skills of the various players at today’s game, which you don’t bother to stick around for. You did come to see Atsumu, after all. No point in staying if he’s not on the court.

You gather your hair in a low ponytail and tie it back, put your jacket back on, and make sure you have your wallet and phone still. All secure.

The stadium isn’t one you’re used to, so you refer to the map in the concrete hallway. The exit closest to the station is the north one and you’re at the southeast. It’s only when you turn to go that you realize you don’t know whether to go left or right.

“Well, it is just a giant circle,” You mutter. “Doesn’t really matter which way.”

From further inside, you can hear the buzzer go off one, two three times, signaling the end of the set. “That was quick.” The halls flood immediately and you’re forced to slow down and trudge through, rather than hyperwalk like you usually would. This whole trip is turning out to be one inconvenience after another. Atsumu is off his game. You’re hungry. People in this crowd keep bumping into you.

“Hey lady, get in line like the rest of us.” One asshole grunts and you reflexively scowl at him and the five brats he’s with. It drops from your face. If you had to deal with five kids under the age of ten all by yourself, you’d be grumpy too.

“Sorry, m’bad.” Curious, (and still hungry) you check what it is they’re in line for. Immediately, you’re in a better mood. Skirting the line, you hop over the gate and swipe some onigiri right out of the display box.

“Oi! What the hell are you— Oh, [y/n].”

“Hey there, stranger! Fancy meeting you here.” In two massive, disgusting, and arguably impressive bites, you swallow the onigiri (which is in no way, bite sized) and pluck the baseball cap off his head.

“Hiii, welcome to Onigiri Miya, what can I get for you today?” You ask, pulling your ponytail through the hat and bumping your hip with Osamu’s. The old man isn’t all that disturbed by the abrupt change in cashier and prattles on a list of items long enough to feed a battalion. You’re quick to click it into the POS and nod your head to the order printer that’s situated further back in their makeshift workstation. “I’ve got this. Go do your thing.” He rubs his hat hair sheepishly. He wasn’t planning on taking it off today. "Here's your receipt, sir. Please pick up your order at the station to your left. Good afternoon, it’s lovely to have ya here at Onigiri Miya, whatcha cravin’?”

“That’s it? What else did she say? Where’d she go after? When did she leave?” Atsumu’s hands buried themselves in his hair, practically pulling it out by the roots.

“I don’t know! Um… The rush came after the second set, I think? N’she left right after. I assumed she just went back in ta watch the game!”

“But she didn’t say anything weird?”

“No! We were so busy I barely said two words to ‘er!” Osamu had never seen his brother look so frantic.

“I’m going back to the police.” He rasped out.

— — —

At the station, Detective Kano looks over your file.

CASE: Missing Persons

FULL NAME: Miya [y/n]

BIRTHPLACE: Sapporo

CURRENT RESIDENCE: Osaka

Looking at it plainly, the answer is clear. As much as his subordinate and your husband don’t want to believe it, you’ve left. Nobody took you or forced you. The reason could be anything. You got bored or felt stifled in your marriage, (it did say you two had gotten married at twenty. That’s awfully young to make a lifelong commitment) you met another man, (always a possibility) or it could be that you were running for your life from an abusive piece of shit. Your case wouldn’t be the first like that and nor would it be the last. He didn’t care how ‘worried’ your husband appeared to be. For all he knew, the bastard could just be worried about people finding out and it ending his career.

"Oi, Tanigashi.” He barked. The rookie’s head shot up. “We find any bodies in the past couple days?”

“Time frame?” She asked, already typing away.

“Last seen on Tuesday, the fourteenth”

“Male? Female? What else, ya gotta help me out here.”

“Twenty two year old female.”

She hummed. “Tourist?”

He shook his head.

“Is she a short emo meets Harajuku model typa person?” She sighed, turned the monitor in his direction.

He sighed. “Nope. Sorry fer wastin’ your time. Get back to work.”

“Detective?” The office secretary popped his head in the door. “The statements you ordered just came in. Should I print them out for you?”

“Yeah, thanks kid.” Kano heaved himself out of his seat and cracked his bones. Years on the force and keeping up with full contact Karate were starting to get to him. Maybe he should take his daughters advice and take up Tai Chi or Yoga.

He crinkles open a wrapper and pops the gum in his mouth, reading the evidence as it’s freshly warm off the machine.

The bank statements aren’t anything out of the ordinary. You’ve withdrawn everything from your personal account. The joint account has been left alone. He jots down a note. ‘Set financial alert for suspicious activity.’

This way he’ll know if one of you tries to remove the other from the account. Again, he noted that you hadn’t withdrawn anything from the joint. As his spouse, you were legally entitled to it. And with Atsumu’s fat check from three seasons of pro sports under his belt, it wasn’t like he would miss a little bit all that much.

If anything, it told the detective that you didn’t hate him. Had you wanted him to suffer, it would be easy to empty the accounts and leave him broke.

“Rule’s out abuse.” He mumbles. Unless you were afraid of retribution should he find you. Though with how thorough you were being, (phone left behind. bank account empty. social media untouched) something told him you didn’t have any plans to be found.

Kano sighs, flipping through more pages and organizing them as he goes.

“This just gets more and more complicated.” He stops. “Hey, kid. Where’s the health report?”

He paled, worried he had missed something. “Ummmmmmmmm.” His fingers click across his email. “Looks like the hospital needs a formal report before releasing any information. Sorry, I’ll get right on that.”

— — —

Tucked away behind more wealthy and more flashy neighborhoods, hidden and huddled by a ring of trees, the only way you could ever know the Miya household was there was if you had been there before.

Which you had.

Ducked below a hill off the main road, it’s a modest split level house which seemed a lot smaller when you were younger. Then again, it had been inhabited by both the boys, their mom, and all the people they attracted. Which happened to be a lot. Despite being more than a little rude, Atsumu and Osamu were always surrounded by people wanting to be their friend.

You park in the driveway and enter through the back door on the porch, which has been unlocked since you first started visiting when you were fifteen.

“Toyo! It’s [y/n]. You here?” You called, walking through the door. No answer.

You walked through the kitchen and down the six steps to the main level.

“Toyo? You in there?” Politely soft, but loud enough to be heard, you knocked on her door. Still nothing.

You swung the door open.

“To—” Surrounded by tissues, old bowls of food, and shivering, was Miya Toyo in all her glory. “Gosh.” You whispered. “I knew you were sick, but this is ridiculous.”

Quietly, you grabbed the heating pad in her nightstand drawer and plugged it in, setting it next to her on the bed. Then, gently pulling the covers up and smoothing them out. Not that it mattered. The woman slept like a rock. You wondered if she had always dealt with being sick like this: alone, with no one to care for her.

Then you were headed back towards the kitchen. The door to Toyo’s room was carefully shut. You didn’t want your noise to wake her up. On the way back, you shuddered. No wonder she was sick, she kept the house colder than an icebox.

You made a pit stop at the boy’s room, sliding open a closet door, grabbing a hoodie, and smelling it.

“Hmm… Yeah, that’s Atsumu.” You recognized and quickly pulled it on. The man threw a fit anytime you wore Osamu’s clothes, so you had learned to differentiate the two. You chuckled. That was one of the ways you had figured out he had a thing for you.

A second pair of socks was also stolen. Yours were much too thin to keep your toes from falling off. “Hmm hmmm. Hmm hm, hmmm hm.” You hummed absentmindedly as you switched on the kettle and searched through the pantry and fridge for ideas on what to make.

[dammitadolfnomorecake]

Once Bitten, Twice Stupid prt 157 prt 1

157

Lance dozed off and on as Keith drove them home. His hat and glasses coming off as he curled up as much as he could in the passenger seat. Driving a little too aggressively, Keith definitely wasn’t leaving the zoo a good review. What kind of people were they letting in there?! Reaching the apartment, he had to coax Lance out of the seat and into his arms, keeping him close as they headed up.

Opening the door to the apartment, Shiro and Curtis were sitting on the sofa. Shiro’s legs over Curtis’s lap. Both of them staring at Lance’s disheveled state

“What happened?!”

“Is he okay?!”

Lance flinched at both questions. Shiro pulling himself up to sit properly, hovering on the edge of his seat as if knowing Keith would ask for his help if he wanted, and holding himself back at the same time. Angrily Keith huffed

“Some fucker shoved him. Messed up his nose”

Shiro was instantly angry

“What?! What the fuck?!”

Lance flinched away. Keith keeping him in place with his arm around his waist. Harsh tones and loud sounds were bad. He should have taken Lance straight through to his room

“I know right. Babe, do you want to stay up or lay down?”

“Can I lay down?”

“Yeah. I’ll grab you some blood”

“Can I be alone for a bit?”

“Babe...”

“I want to be alone for a bit... I’m sorry...”

Keith was very much against leaving Lance alone. Kissing his boyfriend’s hair, he settled on a compromise

“How about I help you get out of these clothes then I get you some blood? Then you can have some alone time a nap?”

The second he was organised he was going to be letting himself back into the bedroom

“Okay... I’m sorry I ruined our date”

“You didn’t. Not at all. I had a good time with you. I always have a good time with you. Here, let’s get you out these clothes and I’ll put them in the wash”

“Okay... sorry... guys... I didn’t know you’d be home”

Keith shot Shiro a warning glare that Shiro ignored

“It’s fine. We’re just watching some TV. You’re not interrupting anything, if anything you’re saving me. I have no idea what’s going on anymore”

Lance snorted, immediately regretting it as he moved the toilet paper from his nose to look at the blood

“Yeah, let’s keep that against your nose. Ignore Shiro, he’s not in any way hilarious, despite what he thinks”

“He’s not awful... I really am sorry”

Lance stopped apologising as Keith got him out his bloodied clothes and into his bed. Everything was dusty from him staying in Platt. He’d have to have a word with housekeeping, aka Curtis, about the state of things. Rolling away from him, Lance totally seemed to be shutting him out of whatever lingering panic was eating him up inside. Retrieving a blood bag from the fridge, there was only one in there, meaning he’d have to call Coran and organise something if Lance didn’t want to go straight home to Garrison. The news of his sister had to be hard. Keith felt drained and he wasn’t even the one going through all this shit. Making sure Lance had everything he needed, he kissed his boyfriend’s cheek before leaving him alone against his better judgment.

*

Keith counted to 20 mentally before forcing himself to leave Lance alone. Putting his boyfriend’s clothes in the machine, he came back out to living area to find Shiro making him coffee. God he loved his brother

“Is he okay?”

Watching the coffee pour from the machine, Keith didn’t know how to answer that

“He was. You should have seen him. We near came home with a flock of deer, a dozen rabbits, and if he’d had his way a new pet snake”

Shiro chuckled at him

“It sounds like you two had a good time”

After their little talk and “punching the shark”, Lance had made such a huge effort. His boyfriend making him laugh way too much as he impersonated stiff jawed sea captains from the photos on display, accent and all, as he proclaimed he was off to hunt for the “Great White Booty”. And how it was a rare treasure belonging to him that no one else should touch. Keith not initially realising Lance was talking about his arse, dying a little inside as Lance talked about harpooning it.

Inside the whale exhibit had been cooler than the rest of the place in Keith’s opinion. There were these stairs to this underground theatre area where you could watch whaling documentaries. They’d been done to look a if they’d come out of some fancy cruise ship from way before Keith’s time. There’d also been this whole big glass wall of whale measurements compared to humans, skeleton fragments, and the anchor off a famous whaling ship that’d sunk off the coast. Keith tried to get Lance to attempt to lift it but his boyfriend refused to even try, laughing about how he liked how big Keith was and didn’t need bigger.

For some reason that Keith didn’t get, there’d been these two tanks of jellyfish down there too. The colours of the tank lighting make the jellyfish appear otherworldly and bathed Lance’s faces in so many colours that it’d taken Keith’s breath away. Maybe that was the point? A big wow before the indoor touch pool and the exit to the animal part? They should have just stayed inside.

“Yeah. Fuck. I should have gone with him”

Shiro sighed softly as he moved the coffee cup away from the now empty machine

“What exactly happened?”

He’d fallen hard for his boyfriend again? That’d happened. He’d also seen the largest and scariest fucking stingray of his life. When that thing floated over them, he’d definitely nearly died of awe

“Everything was... it was a bit rocky...”

“I thought you had a good time?”

“I worked myself up and over thought things. Lance was being distant... and I thought I fucked up”

“I can imagine that”

Keith glared cooly at his brother

“You’re not funny. We... kept staring at each other and not to much the exhibits...”

Shiro snorted, starting to pour milk in to Keith’s coffee for him. Nodding to himself, he deemed an inches worth enough as he slid the cup over to Keith

“Yep. I can imagine that too. I meant what happened to Lance?”

Keith sighed heavily, knowing Lance could probably hear him

“You know how... how I used to have panic attacks, and you’d be there. He kind of had one but I wasn’t there, and some wanker pushed him out of the way”

“Your attacks have calmed down a lot being here. Does Lance know what triggered it?”

“The floor. It was stone”

Shiro froze. Keith had never been into the house but Shiro had described the flooring as being stone. Taking a moment, his brother slowly relaxed

“I can see why”

Then it wasn’t his Lance still dealing with what happened. Shiro was too and they’d barely spoken about how he was doing lately. Keith felt like a shit brother going to ask Shiro to talk to Lance before realising maybe that would be something best asked in front of his boyfriend

“Then... his nose wasn’t broken but it was messed up. He panicked and tried to hide, only some dick pushed him. He said Sendak broke his nose and his arm”

“His goons knocked his teeth out too. Curtis told me”

Keith looked to Curtis who nodded

“Once the plans were in place to leave, they took particular delight in making us feel shit. He got so mad over my behalf”

“He hasn’t talked much about it... He still regrets killing Sendak”

Shiro nodded. He knew that too well. Keith may have mentioned it more than once and twice and how he should be with Lance helping him through being abducted

“Taking life is never easy. Especially for Lance. It’s kind of the stigma, isn’t it? That he’s some kind of blood thirsty beast? Has he talked to Coran?”

“I don’t think so. Should I have pushed him on this? To tell me more?”

“You know being triggered usually happens unexpectedly. Was he coherent?”

“Yeah. Kept acting like it was his fault. It’s not. Is he still awake?”

“He wanted to be alone”

“If he’s sleeping I’ll leave him be, but for now I just want to check in with him and let him know we’re here. Don’t give me that look. If he doesn’t want me there, I’ll leave right away”

Keith knew he was giving Shiro “that look”. If anyone was talking to Lance it should be him. But he hadn’t been held captive. He wasn’t there. If Shiro asked, and Lance said yes or no, then... that would be giving him the choice. Keith didn’t want to limit Lance’s freedom or take his chances away from him

“Alright. I’ll punch you in the dick if you upset him”

“Understood. Maybe Curtis can explain what the hell’s going on in that show of his? That’ll keep you too preoccupied to worry”

“We both know I’m going to worry”

“We do. Drink your coffee and I’ll be back in a bit”

*

Laying in Keith’s bed, Lance heard everything. Lance hadn’t been quite completely truthful. He had for the most part but there was one huge element he was leaving out. An element he absolutely couldn’t tell Keith.

Knocking on Keith’s door, Shiro opened it to poke his head in

“Lance?”

Lance too tired to care about being shirtless under the covers as he internally sighed

“Come in”

“I guess you heard us”

Not that he’d wanted to. He didn’t want everyone fussing and worrying, but he felt so messed up, and maybe needed a little fuss and worry from Shiro because he’d underst

“It’s hard not to. You can stay, close the door”

“Okay. If you’re not up to talking, I can go”

“Nah... I kind of need your advice”

Walking around to what was usually Lance’s side of the bed, Shiro dropped himself down with all the grace of a sack of potatoes, Lance groaning as the bed shifted aggregating his throbbing head further

“That good?”

“I’ve been better”

“I can see that. Keith said you had an attack”

“Yeah. I... nearly vampired the guy”

“Oh”

“Yep”

“And how does that make you feel?”

Lance could only shake his head mentally at Shiro. The question was valid, but he knew Shiro knew he’d get an internal laugh out of it if he didn’t have other things on his mind

“You want to talk about what happened...”

Shiro moved closer, ruffling Lance’s hair

“Only if you’re ready to. Do you want my advice before or after?”

“Maybe during... The stones set me off... but I didn’t tell Keith everything”

“I can imagine he was mad enough”

“Very. All I wanted to do was use the bathroom. We were sitting down because I felt faint”

“Are you okay? Should I call Coran?”

“I’m okay. I just didn’t get much sleep last night... Keith went to get me water and all... people were talking about us. Mostly me, but us... Then, when I bumped into that guy... He didn’t have the nicest things to say about Keith, or me. Or about how appropriate our relationship was. He tried to start something. He even kicked the door when I locked myself in”

Shiro sighed. He got it. If Keith knew then Keith would have gone ballistic

“So he shoved you maliciously?”

“Yeah... Kind of. I didn’t want... I don’t want Keith to... He’s...”

“He’s in love with you and probably would have beaten that guy to a pulp if he knew”

“When I saw the floor it was like everything started spinning. My nails came out and I wasn’t even looking... Our whole date got ruined”

“Not your whole date. Keith’s really upset over this. I understand why you’re not telling him, but at the same time, he couldn’t give two shits what people think about the pair of you dating. He adores you”

“But how do you cope?”

“I ignore them. What happens in my private life is my business. I know it’s hard, but they’re not worth your time. You can’t win an argument with an idiot”

“I apologised and he still... He scared the fuck out of me when he kicked the door. Someone said something and he played it off as a joke... We were having a good time, we didn’t hurt anyone... so why do people have to be so mean?”

“Because they don’t know you. How’s your nose feeling now?”

Lance’s head still hurt. He could taste his own blood, but he’d been sipping on the blood bag Keith left him. He’d heal. Soon it’d be like it never happened. The stranger had lashed out, shoving him with a slur. Cursing how he didn’t want “one of them” touching him. Kicking the door he’d called for him to call his “abomination of a partner”. Muttering he’d left the bathroom talking about how those kinds of people should be castrated and chucked in a wood chipper. The words weren’t complicated. He’d heard people whisper before when he and Keith held hands or were close in public. Some happy, some nervous, some rude. As long as Keith didn’t know, or wasn’t being insulted, he didn’t show that he’d heard. This man... Lance’s panicked thoughts had him thinking the stranger was Sendak.

Overwhelmed by the strange scents and unfamiliar faces, all Lance had wanted to do was snap. Ego tearing him up inside as he resisted breaking the bathroom door down then snapping the man’s neck for insulting Keith

“Better... Keith was going to help me clean up but... I wanted blood, Shiro. I wanted to hit him and it scared me. I can take the insults but when they’re directed at Keith...”

“It hurts so much more because you love him. I know. Some people just don’t get it and it sucks and it’s wrong, but those people aren’t worth your worry. You love Keith and he loves you. That’s the main thing. Are you sure I should be calling Coran?”

Lance wasn’t sure he could face the fussing of Coran. The twins were moving, his stomach didn’t hurt that much... That was the main thing. He hadn’t hit his stomach, just his face on the door frame. He’d been a mess trying not to let it show as he’d waited for Keith

“I’ll be okay... I’m trying. I keep trying to not think about that. About how things played out. How I could have injured Curtis. How things could have gone wrong in the crash. What would have happened if I hadn’t lost my temper”

“If you hadn’t then I doubt you and Curtis would be alive. Curtis told me how you wanted I protect him. How you pushed yourself. I’m sorry I seemed like I was disregarding your ideas”

“They were stupid ideas”

“Not necessarily. We just didn’t have enough information to act”

“I still feel like I could have found another way”

“Sometimes there isn’t one. You’re not a hunter, but you did a good job. You protected Keith. That’s all I could have asked for. He’s got this habit of rushing in head first. You give him a reason to think twice”

Yeah. He did. Except he really threw everything away when it came to Lance. Lance had wanted to tear the throat out that man at the petting zoo when he’d slagged off Keith

“Unless I’m the one in danger”

“Ah, yes. In his defence, when we arrived to find the house empty I felt as if... I felt as if I’d lost Adam all over again, only this time I’d lost my lover and my brother”

“Do you have nightmares?”

“I do. Of being too late and Sendak snapping Curtis’s neck. Of dying in that cell. Different memories mixed in with being in that place. I froze when Keith mentioned the stone floor”

Sendak had fucked them all up. Everyone else seemed to know how keep walking forward, so why did he have to be the one to freak out over the flooring? Seeing Narti’s body didn’t mess him up as much it should have. She had her life snuffed out, and that seemed to be something he was far too okay with

“Shiro, is there any way that we can see the house?”

Shiro lifted his hand off Lance’s head. The man’s heart beat increasing in pace. Shiro didn’t want to go back there

“Lance...”

Shiro cut himself off, moving his hand to his lap

“Why would you want to go back there?”

He wondered himself, the question as much as a surprise to Shiro as him

“I know it’s over, but... I want to see where they kept us. I want to see no one else is in there. I know no one else is but I never saw Sendak’s body and I never saw the outside of the house”

“Are you worried Sendak is hiding there?”

He hadn’t been until Shiro brought up the possibility. A cold shiver ran through his body. He’d never seen what happened to the body, nor did he know what was in that house

“Yes and no. I don’t know what I did for sure. Everyone kept praising me and I never... I don’t want to be stuck being scared of flooring. I want to see the house is empty”

“Then what are you going to do? Even if it’s empty, we might not be able to see it, or go inside. If we do, though, what do you want to do?”

Shiro was too uncomfortable. His heartbeat too fast. Lance knowing he shouldn’t have asked. Shiro may have said he’d talk to him, but he wasn’t ready to talk either when it came to that house. They hadn’t treated him overly badly, instead it was the pain of what happened to Curtis that kept Shiro from wanting to be there

“I want to burn it down. That’s honestly what I want to do. I know houses aren’t evil. It’s just a house but... Never mind. I thought maybe I understood what I wanted but I don’t think I do”

“Let me think about this. I’m not to find of the idea of going back there”

“Neither am I. I’m just sick of being stuck with these thoughts when all I want to do is focus on Keith and the twins”

“Speaking of Keith... am I allowed to let him back in?”

Oh. Lance wasn’t strictly done with the things he wanted to ask Shiro.. Shiro must have decided to run before Lance could ask him anything else, like if he and Curtis wanted to come and stay for a few days

“Yeah. I feel so pathetic... When Keith hugs me it’s like everything else just falls away. All I want is for him to be happy”

“I know you do. If you need to talk, I’m here. So’s Curtis. We’ve both been through similar events before, but I imagine all of this was very new to you”

“The last time some really hurt me, like, really really hurt me was when I was turned. Matt doesn’t count because he didn’t mean to”

Matt had felt terrible for hurting him in the tunnels. Lance felt terrible because Matt felt terrible while their egos both laughed at their stupidity. If anyone supernatural was going to hurt him, Matt would be the least of his worries

“You’ve got a big heart. Get some rest”

“Yeah. Thanks for... for this. I realised how lucky we’d been with the people around us and I flipped at the idea that someone saw Keith as anything other than himself”

“People can be very stupid. I understand not telling him. What happened already happened, and he already has the gist of things. I love both of you like brothers”

“I love you like a brother too. I don’t think I’ve ever had so much family as I have since you all gate crashed my life”

Shiro chuckled at him. Lance kind of definitely feeling he’d maybe upset Shiro by accident, either that or Shiro was pulling a Keith and running away

“Happy to help. Okay. Don’t forget to talk to me if you need to... wait, that sounded wrong, I’m here when and if you want to”

“I know. Thanks”

Keith was like Kosmo. Climbing straight up into their bed and laying himself right up being Lance as their precious fur son liked to do. There’d barely been a minute between Shiro leaving and Keith coming in. Wrapping his arm around Lance stomach, his hand immediately went to rub at the vampire’s belly as he nosed at Lance’s shoulder

“Babe?”

Ahhh... questions. Keith had questions. Lance placing his hand over Keith’s and snuggling back into him. He missed being the big spoon. Being about to curl around Keith and protect him from the big bad world

“I’m okay. Better. Much better with your cuddles”

Kissing Lance’s shoulder, his boyfriend’s coffee breath wasn’t the greatest thing with how he felt, but it was so very Keith that Lance didn’t care

“Is it okay to ask what you wanted to talk to Shiro about?”

Shiro was thinking about his request, but if he did grant Lance’s request they’d be taking Keith with them

“I can talk to right, and you’re not going to yell?”

“That doesn’t sound good”

“Keith, I’m serious. I want you to hear me out”

“Okaaaay. God, you’re not going to break up with me, are you?”

“No! No. No, that is not happening”

“Then tell me what you talked to Shiro about”

“I asked him if he’d feel comfortable returning to the house where they held us”

Keith immediately tensed, Lance flinched in preparation for him yelling. When Keith didn’t yell, Lance forced himself onwards to explain

“I want to put Sendak firmly behind us. Today was... like a wake up call that no matter how hard I’m trying I’m not okay with what happened. I want to go to the house and see it. I want to see it empty. See he’s not there anymore”

“He’s dead”

“I know that logically. My reaction today wasn’t very logical. I want to understand what it was in the flooring that made me freak out. What I want is no more regrets and secret fears popping up and getting in the way of making a happy life together. I want to keep moving forward and today brought back all that fear. I know you’re angry at me and you probably don’t understand why I’d ever want to be in that house again, but that house robbed us of time together. I just need to see it. I need to see how they kept us down there... I asked Shiro, and I think I set of his anxiety and upset him. But I feel like if I don’t see that house I’m going to keep wondering what happened to it”

Keith took a deep breath, slowly exhaling. His grip with his fingertips on Lance’s stomach almost painful

“I don’t want you going back there”

Of course he didn’t. It’d be hard for all of them, his pregnancy was complicated enough and Keith feared the amount of stress Lance would be under

“I know. It’s not like I’m asking to go alone. I don’t want to be there alone”

[beeblebrox-be-damned]

Drive Him Crazy (Part 7)(A bit of Christmas Fluff!!)

Dark!Alpha!Steve Rogers x Omega!Reader

Christmas normally gets me really down (moreso than usual), so I wrote bit of Christmas fluff to cheer myself up. More to come later uwu

Without the lab to go to, you were at a loss of what to do. Over the next month after the incident, you spent your time trying out various hobbies.

Sewing was a bust. It seemed you fingertips were magnets for the sharp ends of needles. Knitting went in much the same way, though the needles weren’t as sharp and mostly you just got your hands tangled in yarn. It seemed that everything you tried was either too boring or too frustrating to keep up with.

As the holidays drew nearer, you made up your mind to take up cooking. You were decent, but you were sure you could improve. Surprisingly, you took to it fairly well. Steve seemed quite impressed, and the domesticity of it was quite pleasant for both of you. At times Steve almost felt like he was back in the 40’s, with a doting housewife and baby on the way. It was addicting.

The domestic bliss carried over into the rest of life too. You threw your heart into being the best Omega you could, since you couldn’t distract yourself with working outside the home. Days spent cleaning, something you used to hate, now were rather enjoyable. You could work without Steve hovering over you as though you were made of glass. 

One month before Christmas, you decided you wanted to decorate. With quite a bit of cajoling, you managed to get Steve to relent to your whims. A trip to the store, with Steve accompanying you protectively of course, yielded strings of lights and classy ornaments, as well as a few other odds-and-ends. (Which included a very odd little kit that Steve insisted on getting but would not let you see yet. All you got a glimpse of was the silhouette of a very pregnant lady on the package cover.)

Of course, no homey Christmas is complete without a tree. Clutching Steve’s hand tightly in your own smaller, mitten-clad one, you trudged merrily through the snow. The Avenger’s Compound was located on many acres of woodland, which included many stands of evergreens. You had been fine with settling for a plastic tree, but Steve insisted upon having an authentic pine.

Breath clouding in front of you, you turned and looked at Steve. He was carrying an ax, sharpened and ready for whichever tree you determined to be suitable. Unbothered by the cold, he wore a plain plaid shirt covered with a thick jacket you had forced him to wear. Snow flakes settled in his hair and the scruff of a beard he’d been cultivating. You wanted to kiss him until each one melted away.

You, unfortunately, were dressed very heavily. Steve wouldn’t let you out of the compound into the bitter winter air without every stitch of winter wear you owned covering your body. You had protested, but he was every bit as stubborn as you and won out eventually. Your jacket puffed out everywhere, and he had cheerily forced a hat upon your head that even covered your ears. You swore you looked like the Stay-Puffed Marshmallow Man from Ghostbusters, much to your chagrin. When you had said this, Steve only grinned and patted your belly, telling you it looked terribly cute.

The snow wasn’t too deep, thankfully, or your legs would’ve hated you. You were in good shape, you were an Avenger after all, but the layers of heavy clothing, huge snowboots, and the baby-weight you’d put on were all very hindering to your general movement. Finally tired of walking, you stopped and plopped down on a fallen tree after swiping some snow off of it.

“I’m done walking,” you huffed, “we can find a tree here, yeah?” Steve glanced around the small clearing you’d entered, nodding.

“Looks good to me, little one. See anything you like?” He gazed over the trees, taking off his jacket so he could better maneuver his ax. His muscles rippled beneath his shirt delectably as he tested the weight and swing of the tool.

Your tongue swiped over your lips as you watched him. “Well, for one, you standing right there in front of me.” It was no secret your libido had been sky-high as of late, something Steve often took advantage of. 

He grinned and shook his head. “Woah there little girl, it’s too cold for that kind of talk.” He stretched one more time, just to tease you. “I meant, do you see a tree you like?”

You scanned the area, finally settling on a modest sapling. It was around six feet tall, not too big or too small to make a good Christmas tree. It was coated in snow, but the green needles peeked out at you invitingly. You lifted your hand and pointed, then realized it was probably a bit hard to see where you were pointing considering it was a bit hard to see your fingers, removed your mitten, and pointed again. “That one looks nice. What do you think?”

Steve walked over to the tree, brushing away snow. “Looks perfect to me,” he said, clearing snow away from the tree’s base. 

“Are you sure it isn’t too big? We walked quite a way and I don’t want you to have to carry it so far if it’s too much,” you fretted. Steve chuckled.

“Honey, this tree is tiny. I’ll have no trouble with it.” He took a swing at the tree’s base, making a sizable dent at the first try. “Y’know,” he said as he worked, “once I carried Bucky two miles in two foot-deep snow?”

“Really? Dang. What happened?” You leaned over as a wood-chip flew past your ear. 

Steve laughed, beginning to explain the story as he finished cutting the tree and the two of you trudged home. “Well, you see, Bucky had gotten a bit too tipsy the night before at the base…”

Steve made sure both you and the tree made it home in one piece. By the time you got back, all the snow had fallen from its branches, leaving it ready to be decorated. Once the two of you had wrangled it in and out of the elevator and got it into the apartment, you were buzzing with excitement. While Steve situated the tree in its water-filled base, you set to work unboxing ornaments and lights and tinsel.

The tree looked perfect. You and Steve had worked for over an hour to get it decorated just right, the display looking stunning. You grinned as you looked at your handiwork, handing the star to Steve. “One last touch.”

Steve pressed the star back into your hands, then grabbed your hips and lifted you easily. It wasn’t that far to the top, and you were light as a feather. You placed the star on the tree, connecting it to the strand of lights so that it lit up too. Steve sat you back down, wrapping his arms around you and resting his chin atop your head. “Perfect, ‘Mega. Good job.”

You grinned at the praise, a chill of happiness shooting up your spine. You tilted your head backwards and planted a kiss on the underside of his scruffy chin, then wriggled out of his grasp. You reached for a strand of unused tinsel, winding it around your neck like a fancy feather boa. You shot Steve a playful look, grinning. He shook his head and laughed, then a look of excitement flashed over his face. “I’ll be right back,” he said and left the room.

He returned a moment later with an unopened shopping bag. “Sit down and close you eyes, okay?” You looked at him warily, but sat back on the couch and let your eyes fall shut. You heard the rustle of packaging and raised your eyebrow. “Just what are you up to, Rogers?”

“Hush and let me work,” he said. You could practically hear his shit-eating grin. You flinched and giggled as he pushed your shirt up over your belly. You felt something cold on your belly, and you yelped. It tickled, whatever it was. “Hold still, little one,” Steve said, concentrating.

The ticklish torture lasted several minutes. Finally, Steve sat back and let you open your eyes. You snorted as you looked down at your belly, laughing.

The kit Steve had gotten was a Christmas-themed set of skin-safe paint, intended to be used to decorate a baby-bump. Steve had done just that, painting a large green wreath with a red bow on your skin. In the center was something you couldn’t quite read all the way. Steve grinned.

“It says ‘Alpha’s Christmas present’,” he said proudly, a mischievous glint in his eyes. You smiled, face burning with embarrassment and affection for the valiant Avenger.

Before you could react, Steve had whipped out his camera, snapping a photo of you. “I plan to get one of these every year,” he said, swiping his tongue over his lips. You raised your eyebrow.

“Every year?” you asked incredulously. Steve had talked like that before, but it was during coitus and you’d never thought about it seriously. 

Steve smirked and nodded, standing up and pulling you to your feet. “Every year,” he said, planting a quick kiss on your nose and then a longer, more sensual kiss on your lips. “Now, how ‘bout you let alpha get a sneak peak at his present?”

You blinked, stepping back and trying to process what you’d just heard. “Steve, every year? That’s a bit much, don’t you think?” You could hardly imagine it, bouncing young pups on your hips while struggling with more on the way.

Steve frowned, nudging you to sit back down on the couch. He kneeled in front of you, kissing your painted belly. “No,” he stated simply, “I don’t.” He trailed kisses down your belly, leaning you back so he could reach every bit of the skin between your navel and pelvis.

“B-but, I can’t take care of that many,” you stammered. You’d be overwhelmed, and likely never able to return to work as an Avenger.

Steve chuckled, reaching the rim of your sweatpants and tugging them down your hips, your panties traveling shortly behind. “Yes you will, Omega. And I’ll be there to help.” His lips ghosted over your folds, his breath warm against the sensitive skin.

“But you have work!” you exclaimed, shaking your head. “I can’t take care of that many kids every day, especially not if I’m pregnant. I have a hard enough time doing regular tasks as it is without having to worry about taking care of pups!” Your belly was quite a struggle to work with as it grew.

Steve smiled and placed a firm kiss over your clit before he rose and pressed a kiss to your lips. “You won’t be alone all day,” he rumbled, nipping your lower lip. “I’m going to cut back on missions.” His hands caressed your swollen breasts, teasing your sensitive, pert nipples through your shirt.

You raised your eyebrows. “What? But the team needs you. They need me too, we can’t just abandon that!” You pushed at his shoulder, trying to stave him off while you discussed this matter.

With one hand he unzipped his pants, baring his cock. He rubbed himself as he smiled at you, groaning as he spoke. “Omega, I’ve made it clear you aren’t going to be back on missions for a long, long time. I already told the team.” 

Your jaw dropped. “You wha- ah..!” Your protests were cut off as he parted your legs and entered you in one swift motion. You fought back a moan as he rocked his hips.

Steve’s lips found your’s once again as he started to fuck you roughly, getting his point across. You were his. “And with all the new members, I only need to go on major missions. Maybe twice a year, or even less.” His hands locked on your hips as he rutted into you.

You whimpered as his thick, pulsing cock massaged you walls, dragging in and out of your soaked cunt with a learned precision. He knew every part of you, every place to hit in order to drive you towards your climax. “I’ll be here for you all the time,” he rumbled, his lips dragging over yours, “with all our pups. It will be perfect.”

His lips found your bond-mark, mouthing the sensitive scarred area. You shivered and whined, melting beneath him despite yourself. The sensations were clouding your head. “St-eve,” you panted, “I-”

“Shh,” he soothed, silencing you once more with a kiss. His thumb rubbed your clit. Tears gathered in the corners of your eyes as waves of pleasure washed over you. Your body jerked and your walls spasmed, milking his cock. He spilled into you with a loud groan. “Shh, it’ll be okay, ‘Mega..”

Knotted and unable to separate, Steve lifted you up and laid back on the couch, sitting you on top of him, straddling his hips. His hands kneaded your sides as he admired your painted, burgeoning belly. “It’ll be perfect, Omega,” he repeated. “A perfect family.” TAGLIST:

@stupendousshepherdloverpony @imsonick @auroussss

[darkestwolfx]

Grandma Tourismo - Re-Review #44

Wouldn’t we all love to have a Grandma like Sally? Yes everyone, meet Sally. It was, after all, about time someone gave her a name besides ‘Grandma’.

“It’s Sally. Call me Sally.”

For the record, I still adore these dice. They are exactly the type of thing I can imagine fitting in with the Tracy boys lives. I think they belonged to Jeff, or the boys’ Granddad.

And the rescue operation is in full swing!

“Virgil are you fully prepared for today’s mission?”

“Everything’s A-Ok, John.”

“Sure you don’t need backup?”

“Situation under control. Cargo pod is go.”

Yes! Hang on... cargo pod? Yeah, not quite the rescue I originally thought they were setting it up to be.

Those dramatics zooms! It’s only Grandma, remember!

“Let’s do some shopping!”

“This is going to be so much fun.”

I don’t think you could possibly be any more sarcastic, Virgil.

And let the shopping list of Tracy Island be unveiled. P.S. I always thought it was a shame that the paper covered up whatever grand expression Virgil probably made at the sheer length of it.

Suppressant something (Grandma’s hand is in the way)

Toilet Paper

Hairspray

Hawaiian Shirts (this one makes so much sense after ‘The Long Reach’ too, but really, where were the Pink Flamingos? Still raging)

Plant food

Protein Powder

Celery crunch bars (um, last episode’s vow forgotten so speedily Gordon? That’s the last time luck with give up promises ever works for him)

Toothpaste

Piano Strings

Fire Extinguishers

Tanning lotion

Tofu

Multivitamins

Snooker cues

Apple Pie

Bagels

Lemon squeezer

Pillow case

Anti-rust spray

Extra cable

Oh, I know - let’s play a game! Assign someone to every item on the shopping list. I know I have my ideas about what is for whom.

Also, it’s nice to see a really sneaky TOS nod there.

Played in ‘Operation Crash Dive’, ‘Move and You’re Dead’, ‘Security Hazard’ and ‘Thunderbirds Are Go’. I believe there was also a scene shot for ‘Edge of Impact’, but I can’t remember off the top of my busy head whether it made in into the final cut or not. So, I wonder where they’ve been hiding this on Tracy Island?

“Grab some of that super shine gel for Scotty. I’ve never seen a boy spend so much time combing his hair.”

This. This is one of my absolute favourite lines ever in the history of TAG. Because we all knew this was Scott without it needing to be confirmed - and this is also definitely where Gordon gets his nickname streak from.

“Detour!”

Grandma really is a task shopper. And you know what, I love how Virgil knows exactly what that sole word means.

Remember this scene from ‘Unplugged’? Well, this is that episode, but in series 2 and a lightly new form. The thing which has stayed the same? The team up of Virgil and Grandma. Interesting choice for that pairing, but it makes so much sense for it to be Virgil. He’ll joke, but never at her expense, he defends her cooking, he accompanies her on shopping trips, he listens to her, he even seems to take after her. At this point in time, I always thought this was just a nice way to explore that relationship - by the time we get to ‘The Long Reach’ it’s a whole lot more than that. One thing that storyline didn’t disappoint on was tying up this relationship in a neat little bow.

“We’ve got a situation.”

Of course we do, because this family can’t even get through shopping without interruption - which I’m guessing might be the norm as they speed out of the shop with non-paid for goods (note, us normal humans would all be arrested on the spot for this, so do not attempt it in your local store).

“Hey!”

“Put it on our account!”

Or maybe they - like many others - just didn’t want to argue with Grandma. Wisely so.

“This is my job, Grandma.”

“And worrying about you boys is mine.”

Just a really nice little family moment here. The nuggets like this are part of what made this show for me. They tell more than any massive display could.

What a great landing - in fact, there were many great landings in this episode.

Talk about just going along for the ride, hey? I think there was a lot more than that on display.

“I can’t be two places at once, Thunderbird Five.”

“You don’t have to be, I’ll go.”

“Grandma there’s no way you can steer through a storm.”

“Isn’t that what you have your fancy autopilot for?”

“She’ll be safe in Thunderbird Two.”

“The ship will do the work. I’m just going along for the ride.”

“Okay, I’ll program the autopilot to take you straight there and back. You won’t need to touch anything.”

I love how all that concern was disguised with the same look he gives Gordon to not touch his ship.

“Look after her.”

After all these years, I still can’t work out exactly who this line is for. It’s one of those beautiful lines which has such a lovely level of ambiguity. It’s obviously about Grandma, but it also references his ship and there is just a gorgeous level of family and responsibility balanced out in this episode.

“Grandma...”

“I didn’t touch a thing.”

And lovely little chunks of humour interspersed.

“Can you reprogram the autopilot to do that?”

“No. For that we’d need Virgil to pilot remotely.”

Even the communications were all go in this episode. Honestly, sometimes John is so much more than  go-between.

“Is Grandma ok?”

“She’s fine, but she needs your help with the rescue.”

“The storm’s about to hit here. I need to get these guys out.”

“The storm’s already here. And this young woman isn’t going to make it, unless you help me get this ship to her.

“Sorry guys, this will just take a minute. Someone needs are help.”

“Go for it.”

Well, those guys weren’t really in a position to say no, were they? I mean they need IR’s help too, and I probably would have been tempted to leave them there if they started getting on their high horses. Good people besides the Tracy’s do exist in the world of TAG and this episode had a really nice mix of them. No obnoxious rescuees.

“Let’s just hope I can do this.”

“I heard that. Of course you can do it.”

“Perfect!”

“You did it!”

Of course he did. He’s Virgil Tracy of International Rescue, and that’s his Grandma.

“There’s no getting out in this! We need to stabilise the building.”

“John, we’re gonna’ have to ride it out down here. Can you make sure Grandma stays put?”

“I’ll tell her to put on the coffee pot.”

“You’re with International Rescue?”

Never judge a book by it’s cover.

“You could say that. I’m the Tracy boys Grandma.”

“Kate. And I’m really pleased to see you Grandma Tracy.”

This was so interesting to watch! What you do when you’re stuck in a Thunderbird.

“I’d offer you something to eat, but I’m all out of homemade cookies. As the boy’s would say, lucky for you.”

And one of my favourites;

“John, be a dear.”

I love it when Grandma says that! We saw her do it in ‘Volcano’ too and it was grand.

“Now if we’re lucky all we do is sit here until this blows over.”

I’ll just clear my throat at the idiocy of saying that as Virgil slides expertly across the floor to hold the roof up. And yes, it was possible to do and type this sentence in the time that move took.

“International Rescue, we have a situation.”

“I think our luck may have just run out.”

Predictable...

“The shifting sands are putting extra weight on the structure. It’s not gonna’ hold much longer. John, if we don’t find a way out of here, we’re not gonna’ make it!”

“Yes you are! I’m coming to get you!”

“Grandma, there’s no way. The storm is interfering with my autopilot, and I’ve got my hands full. I can’t remotely fly you back.”

“Don’t need remote control or autopilot. I’ll do it.

“You?”

“Have a little faith, boys.”

Yeah, have some faith. I think there’s a song lyric there;

You gotta have faith

Back to the conversation at hand;

“Who do you think taught your Dad to fly?”

“But that was a single engine plane.”

“And a long, long, long time ago.”

We so often see Grandma sat here at the desk (like above), so in this episode it’s really nice to see her in the driving seat. Age doesn’t have to stop anyone, and this episode was a brilliant piece of script writing to showcase Grandma’s place in IR. She is far more than just anyone’s Grandma and I love how the tension of this episode really built up with the pressures of duty and family.

Oh, the history that is here! I adored that little chunk of life we got a look into.

“You’re following your dream. Good for you.”

Do this, people, it’s one of the best pieces of advise on the planet. I’ve been doing it, and it’s working out pretty well for me so far. I’ve interacted with animals I honestly thought I would never meet, met amazing people and seen the world from many angles. Whatever your dream is, it’s worth doing it.

“Was this your dream?”

“It was my son’s dream, to help people. And now it’s my Grandsons. And I’m happy to support them.”

“Virgil, how are you holding up?”

“Oh, it could be better.”

“Well don’t you worry, I’ll be there any minute. You tell the others.’“

“My Grandma says don’t worry. She’s coming to pick us up.”

“Your Grandma?”

The look on Virgil’s face which just speaks not to underestimate her.

“I can do this. I think.”

“I heard that. Of course you can do it.”

“Of course I can.”

This moment is the sort of writing I live for. It was so nice to see Grandma’s own words thrown back at her. Everyone needs a little positive reinforcement from time to time. I’m sure Virgil can forgive the little scratch on Two’s paintwork.

The hats! It was a really nice touch and look at how happy Grandma looks in hers. Kate doesn’t know what she’s got herself in for in meeting this family. Little taps of those dice for luck.

 “Hurry, Grandma, CO2 levels are critical.”

“We’re not gonna’ make it.”

You were saying?

“I’ve never been more glad to see anyone’s Grandma in my life!”

Too right you haven’t. And Virgil had move moves than Kayo in this episode, even with all his equipment on. I love the fact that Virgil is holding the dice now! Oh, they were so a small thing, but they managed to make them matter so much. Sometimes it’s the little things which matter the most.

“Not so fast! We gotta go back and finish our shopping!”

I think that might be the face of someone who would prefer another rescue than a conclusion to the never ending shopping trip from hell!

Oh well, Virgil’s still in one piece for episode 19 so he must survive and get that shower at some point.

This is another of my favourites though really. The balance of family and danger and normality and duty was just spot on.