#Sorry I’m actually not normal about whirl sorry

[holographic-mars]

Ermmm I’ve been unfortunately bedridden with unknown problems so WHAM whirlibird to get me though my suffering

[grandline-fics]

Green Eyes, Red Lips

DESCRIPTION: When jealousy leads to a confession

WARNINGS: swearing, some suggestive themes(maybe?) 

CHARACTERS: Zoro

WORDS: 1,386

A/N: I really liked how this came out so I might do this as a series with other characters. Feel free to request any you’d like to see.

*REQUESTS ARE OPEN*

MASTERLIST

“Shit, Marines!” Usopp hissed with worry. Zoro lazily slid his good eye open to spy the two uniformed men walking down the street. It wouldn’t take long for their presence to be known and that would mean a fight. His hand dropped to rest over the hilts of his swords in preparation but frowned when his crew-mate’s hand griped his shoulder tightly. “We promised Nami! No attention, we’re only here for supplies, not fights.” The sniper reminded him sharply. Zoro clicked his tongue in annoyance and kept his eye on the marines as they stopped to briefly talk to one of the locals. It seemed they were just on a routine patrol, that was good. If they weren’t actively looking for them it gave them more time.

You poked your head out from the doorway and followed Usopp and Zoro’s stares. Your mood soured to see the Marines, you and Nami were hoping to actually enjoy a relaxed shopping day on this island before having to set off. Oh well, at least the others were almost done. A movement caught your eye and you scowled to see Zoro’s fingers twitching against his swords. He was hoping the Marine’s noticed them and from the burning glare he was sending their way it was clear he wanted a fight and damn the promise he’d made when he left the Sunny that afternoon. Roughly you slapped his forearm, knowing it wouldn’t actually hurt him but it was enough to make him turn his attention to you. 

“Don’t you even think bout it! You’ve been itching for a fight since we left the last island. If you can’t control yourself go back to the Sunny.” Zoro’s behaviour had been pissing you off lately. Normally you didn’t mind his colder attitude if you knew what was wrong but this time there had been no warning. Up until the night before you left the last island things had been good. It was just exhausting having your mood spoiled by him and it was clear you were the one he was taking it out on.

Zoro glared down at you, his jaw clenched and eyebrows furrowed so tightly together you thought a vein was about to burst where they met on his forehead. “Well it’ll be a fight either way once they realise it’s us.” he ground out tightly. “Unless you’ve got a better idea? They’re getting closer.” You rolled your eyes at him and strode back into the store, grabbing a pair of sunglasses and hat from their displays. After telling the owner to add it to your crew’s bill you put them on while ignoring the curious stares you were getting from Nami, Franky, and Luffy as they were lifting the crates of supplies into their arms. 

Spotting a mirror you reapplied your lipstick and pulled off your jacket, shoving it into Zoro’s chest as you stormed by him and out into the street. “Make yourself useful and hold this.” You instructed and he was half tempted to just let it fall to the ground. But Zoro couldn’t help but grip it tightly as he watched you with practiced apathy. Despite how guarded he was he couldn’t help but push away from the wall when you looked around yourself as you walked and purposely bumped into the two Marines, even making a point to gasp in surprise, whirling to look at the two men. “Oh I’m so sorry!”

“Please don’t apologise!” the shorter of the two men dismissed with a bright smile while he looked you over with interest. “Are you lost?” Zoro ground his teeth together to hear you laugh shyly and play with the end of a lock of your hair. 

“Was it that obvious?” You asked stepping closer to the two Marines and pointed behind them, to make them turn. “I’m trying to get to the Fountain Square. Everyone says it’s beautiful at this time of day but I just keep getting turned around.” You explained looping your arms through theirs. “Could you both show me the way?”

“Oh it happens to everyone! Don’t worry you’re in safe hands with us!” the taller Marine promised as he began to walk with you and his companion in the opposite direction. While they rambled, you glanced over your shoulder and gave a single nod to Luffy before you disappeared into the crowd. 

“Looks like they’ve got it covered!” Luffy cheered with a unfazed grin. “Let’s get this back to the Sunny, I’m hungry.”

“Zoro?” Zoro stood where he was, barely registering Nami’s call. Everything told him to follow you and make sure you got away from the Marines safely but he couldn’t bring himself to say anything about it or move. If he did it would only admit the feelings he had for you that he’d been trying to kill with his harsh words and cold attitude. “Zoro come on! Don’t tell me you’re lost already. The ship is this way!” Nami called louder. The swordsman bit back a growl and turned on his heel, catching up with the crew and lifted one of the crates from Usopp’s shaking arms. With every step he took, he let his nails dig into the box. 

By the time you returned to the ship everything was restocked and you were ready to set sail. As the Sunny pulled from the docks you climbed the crows nest, knowing you’d find Zoro there with your jacket. Only when you saw it had been thrown carelessly over one of the benches you rolled your eyes and grabbed it, ready to go back to your own quarters. You didn’t want to deal with the first mate when the tension rolling off of his body was a hundred times worse than it had been that morning. “Sad to be leaving your boyfriends?” He sneered at you. Angrily you slammed the hatch closed and turned to glare at him. 

“Alright what the fuck is wrong with you?” You’d had enough of this and you weren’t leaving until you got to the bottom of this. “Did I offend you in some way? Rip your favourite bandana or something? What have I done that’s so bad for you to look at me like I’m your enemy?”

“Just forget it.” 

“No, Zoro. I won’t forget it but do you know what I will do?” You hissed viciously. “I’ll do us both a favour and leave. Unless I get an answer out of you I’ll leave at the next island we get to and never come back because I’m not dealing with this bullshit anymore.” 

Faster than you could blink Zoro was in front of you, hands slamming against the wall on either side of your head. Before you could say anything else his lips were on yours; strong, insistent, and overwhelming. Your head was spinning but you managed to regain enough control to return the kiss, hands finding purchase on his broad shoulders, pulling him closer. Hungrily Zoro’s hands slipped to grip your waist and thread into your hair. He couldn’t tell you how he felt but it all came out through his touch and powerful kiss. Finally you broke free and caught your breath enough to manage out a dazed. “Oh…so you don’t hate me then…”

“Definitely not.” You didn’t think that Zoro’s voice could get any lower and you held back a shudder to meet the burning stare that finally made sense. “Hated those assholes cosying up to you though.”

“Two nobody Marines made you jealous?” you asked with a small laugh. You couldn’t help but find it funny, the Demon Pirate Hunter Roronoa Zoro was capable of jealousy. “They’re far too scrawny to be my type.”

“Not just those runts. That last island-”

“Oh him!” you gasped with a grin, remembering the self proclaimed King that you and the rest of the crew helped save. “I didn’t think anyone heard him propose to me before we left though.”

“He what?!” Zoro growled suddenly making you yelped in surprise as his grip tightened and he pushed you against the wall. His lips claiming yours once more with the intention of wiping that stupid king and any other man from your memory until it was only him on your mind and you were only too eager to let him. 

[ladykailitha]

Staking My Claim Part 3

Hey, guys! We're back!

Part 1 Part 2

We finally get the lowdown on what happened. Otherwise known as don't mess with Jeff.

Robin freaks out.

And Gareth is loaded. Or at least his parents are. ;)

I'm also going to try tagging the untaggables separate and see if you can't get you lovelies tagged.

@redfreckledwolf, @mira-jadeamethyst, @itsall-taken, @emly03, @rozzieroos

***

He hurried over to the phone and called Family Video.

“Hello, thank you for calling Family Video,” the soft female voice said. “How can I help you?”

“Robin!” he cried again. “I’m so sorry!”

“Steve!” Robin shrieked. “Where have you been? Are you okay? You’re not in the hospital or jail are you? What happened?”

“I’m not in jail or the hospital,” he assured her. Eddie huffed out a laugh. He whirled around to stick his tongue out at him. “I’m okay. I’m still in Indy. I just landed at some friendly metalheads’ apartment.”

“Wait...” Robin said. “Those friendly metalheads wouldn’t happen to include one Eddie Munson, would it?”

Steve looked over at said metalhead and turned away to hide his blush. “Maybe,” he mumbled into the phone.

“Hell yeah!” she crowed. “Now tell me what happened now!”

Steve pressed his lips together. “Um...to be honest...I’m not one hundred percent sure I know what happened last night. Like I remember bits and pieces, but it all kinda blurs together.”

Eddie walked over and pointed to the phone. “May I?”

Steve nodded and hand it to him.

“Robin?” Eddie asked. “This is Eddie Munson.”

“Hello, Eddie,” she said coolly. “Would you like to explain why my best friend isn’t, I don’t know, home?”

“I would love you to tell you that story if it’s okay with Steve finding out by me telling you?” Eddie questioned, looking over at Steve.

He shrugged and waved his hand for him to go ahead.

“He’s says it’s fine,” Eddie said.

“Noted,” Robin said. “Now spill.”

So Eddie did. He told her about the sleazeball at the bar who wouldn’t take no for an answer. About his daring rescue of pretending to be his boyfriend.

Steve blushed when he heard Robin go, “Awww,” at that.

Eddie grinned at him. Then he launched into the actual fucking rescue. It turned out that Mr. Persistent bumped into Steve to lace his drink with a drug to knock him out.

Steve’s eyes went wide. “He did what now?”

Eddie hummed. “Yeah...it was this whole thing. Jeff even got to punch the guy in the nose. I think the bartender has a crush on him now.”

Steve’s eyebrows went up. The bartender was a thirty something Asian dude with tattoos and piercings. But he supposed it made sense, considering the bar’s general attitude toward that specific portion of the population.

“At least he’ll get free drinks for life, right?” Robin said with a chuckle.

“That’s certainly one way to look at it,” Eddie agreed. “So yeah, this dude bumps into Steve and suddenly our friend is getting tipsy, fast. And I’ve been at many a rager to ply my wares, there was no way Keg King Steve was drunk after two beers, a margarita, and a half of a Cosmo.” The half a Cosmo was from sharing with Gareth.

Steve blushed. He wasn’t proud of those wild days in high school, but it probably saved his life in this case.

“Yeah...” Robin agreed. “I’ve seen him drink men under the table who were bigger and had been drinking longer.”

Eddie nodded even though she couldn’t seen him, but Steve could.

“Then the asshole comes over and starts flirting with Steve again, trying to draw him away,” he continued. “That’s when we really got that Steve wasn’t acting normal. So Brian steps in and tells asshole to leave him alone. But this guy has gone past persistent and into full creep territory.”

“Eww...” Robin hissed. “How did Jeff get his punch in?”

Eddie chuckled. “That’s honestly the best part, so Brian and Gareth take Steve out to my van and I go and get the bouncer. We come back and asshole is trying to get past Jeff to make his escape. So he takes a swing at Jeffy.”

“Bad idea, I’m guessing?” she said with a hint of laughter in her voice.

Steve tilted his head in interest and Eddie fought down a smile.

“Jeff’s dad is a former boxer who taught him how to fight to make the bullies leave him alone.”

Steve’s eyes go wide and Robin said, “Oooh. Please tell me he laid this asshole out! Please!”

“Dude stiffened like a board and went straight down,” Eddie confirmed. “The only downside is that they couldn’t prove anything, so he just got tossed out, but make no mistake, they’ll make sure spread the word around the other gay bars about this guy.”

“That’s good,” Robin agreed.

Steve wandered back over to his food, safe in the knowledge that he was in safe hands.

Jeff and Brian were at the counter grabbing their breakfast so Steve joined them. Coffee was was doled out by Eddie a few moments later.

Creamer, milk, and sugar were placed next to the coffee pot.

“Robin says not worry about coming into work,” Eddie murmured to Steve. “She said she would tell Keith you have the stomach flu. Which according to her will get you at least three days off.”

“That’s pretty impressive,” Brian said. “I don’t think there is anything I could tell my boss short of being in the hospital that would get me even a couple of hours off.”

Steve laughed. “Keith has a weak stomach. You just mention vomiting and the dude turns green.”

“Handy that,” Eddie said with a smile.

“It’s very handy when you’re out drinking and drink too much,” Steve said with a shrug.

“I’ll say,” Jeff said. “I’m just glad we were there, man.”

Steve blushed. “Yeah, me too.”

He dug into his food and was happy to note that while it didn’t necessarily ease the queasiness in his stomach, it didn’t make him want to throw it all back up, either.

He cleared his plate.

“So this is what’s going to happen, Stevie,” Eddie said as he cleaned up the pans from breakfast, “you are going to stay here until I am sure one hundred percent that you won’t throw up on the three hour journey back to Hawkins.”

Steve opened his mouth to argue, but he couldn’t. Right now nothing was coming up, but put him in a moving vehicle and he couldn’t say for sure that breakfast wouldn’t come right back up.

He nodded.

“I gave Robin the address so she’ll be stopping by after she gets off work,” Eddie continued. “I recommend that you get so actual rest, she seems like she’s a lot without her worrying about you, I can only imagine what she’s like when she is.”

Steve blushed.

“We’re going to all stay here,” Gareth said. “At least for one more day. I talked to my mom about it and she would rather pay more for utilities this month then worry about Steve getting worse.”

The other boys nodded their agreement, while Steve blinked at him in confusion.

“What now?”

“You do realize I live in Loch Nora, right?” Gareth asked, raising an eyebrow.

Steve shook his head. “My parents were very much exclusionists, dude. I only got to hang out with people that they deemed acceptable. Nicole, Carol, Tommy H. If they thought they weren’t in the right trade or held more liberal views, they weren’t worthy to interact with their son.”

Gareth blinked. “Fuck, that must have been lonely.”

He ducked his head and half shrugged.

“Anyway,” Gareth continued into the now deafening silence. “They pay for this apartment in the city for when we play gigs or need a place to crash after a night of drinking.”

Steve frowned. “You’re not eighteen yet, though, right?”

“No,” Gareth said with a laugh. “But my parents trust these guys to keep me safe.”

Steve thought about Dustin and his mom. That despite all the things that Steve had gotten up to in his high school career that she still trusted him to take care of her baby.

“Yeah,” he said fondly. “I can see that.”

Eddie came over to the other side of the counter. “Come on, up you get. You’ll be sleeping in my room.”

Steve’s eyes widened. “How many rooms does this place have?”

“Three,” Jeff said. “Brian shares with Gareth, but Eddie and I get our own rooms.”

“That’s because you’re both sluts,” Brian said rolling his eyes, “and me and Gareth don’t want to be kicked out of our rooms when you bring someone home.”

Steve laughed. “Yeah, okay. That’s fair.”

“I’ll give you the tour when I steer you back to my room,” Eddie promised.

Steve nodded and allowed himself to be lead back through the apartment and back to the bedroom.

Eddie tucked him back in and put a garbage can next to the bed. “I’ll be out in the front room, holler if you need me.”

Steve nodded and let himself drift off to sleep.

***

Part 4 Part 5 Part 6

Yeah, I'm sorry, I doubt even a middle class family would buy their very young son (if we hold to the belief that Gareth is OG drummer and was in the talent show with Eddie and Chrissy, putting Eddie in 8th grade, Chrissy in 6th, that would make Gareth in 5th grade) a drum kit.

Tag List: @spectrum-spectre @estrellami-1 @zerokrox-blog @artiststarme @swimmingbirdrunningrock @gregre369 ​@a-little-unsteddie @chaosgremlinmunson @chaoticlovingdreamer @maya-custodios-dionach @goodolefashionedloverboi @messrs-weasley @val-from-lawrence @i-must-potato @danili666 @carlyv @rozzieroos @wonderland-girl143-blog @justforthedead89 @emly03 @bookworm0690 @itsall-taken @vecnuthy @bookbinderbitch @redfreckledwolf @littlewildflowerkitten @yikes-a-bee @awkwardgravity1 @scheodingers-muppet @mira-jadeamethyst @cinnamon-mushroomabomination @genderless-spoon @anne-bennett-cosplayer @irregular-child @lololol-1234 @r0binscript @monsterloverforhire @mugloversonly @live-the-fangirl-life @f0xxyb0xxes @lublix @breealtair @croatoan-like-its-hot @confuseddisastertm @dissociatingdemon @sleepdeprivedflower @thedragonsaunt @jamieweasley13 @hellfireone @dragonmama76

[feyhunter78]

Dinosaurs - Nerd!Miguel

Description: While studying together, you find out just how much of a nerd Miguel really is, but lucky for him, you like it.

Artist cred: tamspeaches on Twitter! S/O to @chrishy973 for the idea <3

The door to the study room is closed, the florescent lights above cold and flickering, the light wood table plastered over with finisher and study materials. The air conditioning is on, you can feel the cool air against your skin, hear the hum of it as it whirls and swirls around the room. And Miguel is talking, about something that is way out of your realm of understanding.

“So, once you splice the previously modified DNA together, you should in theory be able to create a hybrid with the best set of traits from each species. But what about the negative traits, right? Well, that’s why you have to make sure you look at each individual nucleotide base pair to ensure you weed out the defects.” Miguel says, waving his pen in the air as he talks, his notebooks open in front of him.

You nod, resting your head in your hand, your elbow up on the table as you listen and try to not zone out, his words going in one ear and out the other. “Okay yeah, got ya, makes sense.”

“And so that’s where they messed up in the new Jurassic Park movies, they didn’t look at the base pairs, they just tried to create the scariest dinosaur they could without thinking of the potentially defects.” He continues. “If I were to repeat that experiment, I’d start small, try to weed out the high levels of aggression in smaller dinosaurs—like the early Cretaceous Microraptor, it only weighed a few pounds—and then work my way up.”

Wait shit he’s talking about Jurassic Park? You definitely missed the part where he veered away from real science and into movie science.

“Sounds like they should’ve hired you.” You say with a smile, leaning forward to push his glasses up from where they had fallen.

Miguel seems to short circuit, blinking rapidly at you, his lips parted, his chest caught in the expanse of breath. “I um—yeah, yeah, I’d love to work there.”

He’s so handsome, and he’s wearing that blue shirt you like, the one that clings to him and shows off every inch of his well-defined upper body. The urge to grab his bicep surges through you, but you push it down.

Stop being a creep, y/n.

“It’d be so dangerous, though.” You comment, glancing down at your perfectly manicured nails to distract yourself from the Greek god before you. They were red, Miguel’s favorite color. He noticed them the second you sat down, actually took your hand in his and ran his thumb over the glossy surfaces. “Good thing it’s not real.”

Miguel’s brain reboots, and he rubs the back of his neck sheepishly. “I’m sorry, sometimes I get carried away. I hope I didn’t bore you too much.”

You shake your head, leaning back in your chair. “No, no, I like hearing you talk about this stuff, you get so passionate and confident, it’s like a whole different Miguel.”

He deflates a little, and you sit up, your hand falling on his shoulder and squeezing. “Not that I don’t like you as you normally are, it just—you seem happier when you’re talking about all this nerd stuff and I like seeing you happy, sue me.”

His knee brushes against yours, sending butterflies scattering through your stomach as he turns away from you ever so slightly, facing his open laptop once more. “I like seeing you happy, too.” He says quietly, so quiet you almost don’t catch it.

You bite your lip to keep your smile from escaping and decide to let him keep his secrets as you go back to your homework.

Miguel O'Hara masterlist

TL: @bat-bae, @nyctophilic0vitnir, @smokeywhalee, @obi-mom-kenobi, @prowlingforfood, @penggion, @crystal-crax, @oharasfilipinawife, @generalkenobitrash, @melsimps, @chrishy973, @farrowroyale, @palesatan

[hannahssimblr]

“Hey! Well- Yeah? Well, you shouldn’t have had your foot there!” 

I snatch Jen away from the girl she has trodden on in the centre of the heaving crowd. It’s so hot. Sweat covers every single person as they become impatient. As I elbow past one guy in a vest, our arms stick together in an odiously intimate sensation. We look at one another with matching expressions of disgust and horror.

“Come on, come on!” I say to Jen.

“Okay, bossy.”

The space around the stage is filling in, and a sea of blurred figures churn around us like liquid, us and every other body shoving towards the barrier. We’re not far anymore. I can see it glinting, tantalising, in the sun.

“Move!” I bellow, and the person blocking my path flinches out of the way. It’s each man for himself. Well, and Jen. I need to take care of Jen. 

And where’s-

“Keep going!” Jen is punching my back now. “Don’t turn around. We’re so close.”

“Um, sorry, but some of us have been waiting here for ages,” a girl with a nasal voice informs her as we wrestle past. “You can’t just butt in anywhere you like.”

“Okay! Shut the fuck up!” Jen says brightly. 

“Sorry, what?”

“I said shut up, it’s bloody hot.” She hisses, whirling on her, “and do you actually think I want-”

“Jen!” As my palm finally makes contact with metal, I snatch her and heave her toward me. “No fights, right? Not this weekend.”

“Did you hear how that girl spoke to me?”

“You’ll never see her again, c’mon.” I push sideways against the others at the barrier to pry a few inches of space for us. “There.”

We crane our necks up at the stage, big, black, and empty, with nests of wires scattering the floor, hanging over the edge. 

“Wow, it was worth it for this spot, wasn’t it?”

I look behind her, a vast sea of faces stretching back for forever. There’s likely no chance we’ll find the rest of our friends now, having abandoned them at the start line in pursuit of this barrier. But right before I give up, I spot Evie. I’ve got a radar for her, it seems. She’s struggling through the hoard elbows first, though unsuccessfully. It appears she is going for the polite approach, trying her best to slip through small gaps between people, but they keep shrugging her off. She will need to be more aggressive than that. 

“Evie! Up here!”

Relief floods her face. “Oh! God! Yeah, hi!”

“Hi!” I grab her hand and yank her through an especially stubborn group of hipsters. “Come on, you can stand here.” Someone else is trying to squeeze into my space, but I just shove him. He moves, barely, leaving only space for one person, but we’ll make do. I pull Evie into place and stand behind her as the gap behind us closes. My body is pushed forward just a little bit, enough to close that careful, intentional space between Evie and me. I breathe through my nose very slowly. 

Are you alright?” I murmur. My face is close to hers, and my palm rests on her shoulder. I don’t move it. She nods. 

I stare at my hand for ages. It’s just there, on her, her bare skin warm under my fingers, and neither of us has acknowledged it. I fantasise about moving my thumb just a few inches and stroking along that graceful curve that joins her shoulder with her neck. I could even tilt her head to the side and put my mouth against the pulse by the corner of her jaw. God, that’d be weird. I would never do that, but I should stop thinking like this before parts of my body begin to assume I will. 

As my eyes dart to Jen, I am relieved to find her striking up a conversation with someone next to her. She’s constantly befriending strangers at events, and normally it annoys me, because she insists on following them to some crusty afterparty in a house with cigarette butts and dried vomit in the bathroom sink, but I’m grateful for this particular trait today, because if she had seen me staring at Evie’s neck like some kind of demented vampire, I would have a hard time getting her to drop the issue. 

When the band come on stage, the crowd erupts into cheers, and I join them at first. I usually love concerts for this reason, this feeling of being part of a collective, me and thousands of other bodies together, seeking the same rush, sharing the same love of music. This is a good band, and I had been excited to see them when I knew they’d be performing, but this fact, every thought and feeling and interest in every niche piece of information I’ve ever read about them while perusing music magazines at the newsagents evaporates into the ether the moment that Evie rests against my chest.

I stay very still. Surely, this is accidental, but I don’t move a muscle, afraid to make it clear I have noticed it. I am resisting the empty feeling she’ll leave when she moves away.

As she hums along to music she doesn’t know, her voice vibrates through her ribs and into me, and when she lifts her hands to clap for the end of a song, she puts them back on the barrier, perhaps just a little closer to mine that they were the last time. I spend three more songs wondering if it was intentional. 

And the band plays, and the crowd cheers and dances and sways to these songs I’ve rinsed a hundred times on my iPod, but I stand with her, so incredibly still, my hands on the barrier on both sides of her, my chin resting upon her head, and I don’t recall a single melody. 

Beginning // Prev // Next

Corresponding LG Chapter

[atotalpitch]

Bechloe week 2024 day 2: "you're up early"

read on ao3 here Fandom(s): Pitch Perfect (movies) Relationship(s): implied Beca/Chloe, can be seen as either pre- or during relationship! Word count: 666 Warning(s): none Other tag(s): mild hurt/comfort, fluff Summary: they have a conversation. literally that's it. i'm terrible at summaries. A/N: ooffff this is short, but i'm still happy with it!! my best friend, the only person i run these through, thought it's adorable and i trust her. any criticism or thoughts are always welcome!

--- Beca drops her headphones around her neck as she walks into the kitchen. It’s oddly quiet for the Bellas house, but it is five in the morning. She figures she’s the only one awake at the ass crack of dawn. That is until her heart jumps all the way up to her throat at the sight of a familiar redhead. “Jesus fucking Christ you scared me,” Beca mumbles under her breath, not knowing whether Chloe heard her or not. “Sorry,” Chloe half-whispers with a smile that doesn’t quite reach her eyes. Opening the fridge and picking up a can of redbull, Beca does a mental double take on the time. “You’re up early,” she states matter-of-factly. “I’m always up early. You’re up early,” Chloe shoots back, raising an eyebrow challengingly. “Your first alarm is at 6.15, it’s 5.42,” Beca ignores the accusation and sits down on one of the kitchen aisle stools. She opens the cold can and takes a sip. “Spill. What’s keeping you up?” Chloe sighs. She knows there is no logical way out of this anymore. “I, uh… it’s dumb. My brother’s getting married. I mean, don’t get me wrong I’m happy for him! I love his fiancée too. It just made me think… I’m only a year younger than him and I’m still stuck in college, while he’s out there living his life and experiencing all these things I thought I would by this age,” Chloe looks out the kitchen window, twirling a spoon in her now cold mug of tea. Beca gathers she must’ve been there for quite a while now, because normally Chloe would never let her tea get cold. “Chlo, you are living your life. Just because you aren’t completing the guidebook of a stereotypical straight woman doesn’t mean your life isn’t good,” she manages to make Chloe at least smile with her insight. “I know I… I just thought my life would be different, I guess,” she shrugs, turning her gaze to meet Beca’s. There is an edge of something in her eyes that Beca hasn’t seen before. Sadness doesn’t suit Chloe, and neither does the tornado of emotions currently whirling in her stare, Beca is sure of it. “Are you happy now? With the Bellas, I mean;” what Beca wants to ask is if Chloe’s happy with her, but she decides against going too deep too early. “I am, yeah,” the answer comes out quickly and it seems to click something back to place inside Chloe’s mind. She still seems unsure, though. “Well there’s your answer. Look, dude, I know I’m not the best with all this emotional shit but what matters is that you’re happy and feel content with your own life. You still have life left to live and there’s no rush to get married or whatever it is that you want,” Beca shrugs, taking another long chug of her drink. “Who knew Beca Mitchell could give actually sensible life advice before six in the morning,” Chloe seems to get a part of herself back as she teases. Beca rolls her eyes, finishing the redbull in her hand with one last swig. (The normal cans are small, you can’t blame her.) She drops the can on the aisle and slides off the stool. “Remember to turn off your alarm so you don’t wake the others up,” she says in a form of goodbye. “Wait, can we go back to why you’re up at this time?” Chloe narrows her eyes and Beca can feel the intensity of the stare on her back. She turns her head and flashes a smile oddly similar to a toddler getting caught doing mischief. “Beca! What did I say about staying up the whole night?” the disappointed exclamation goes to deaf ears as Beca is already halfway up the stairs with her headphones firmly back in place. Chloe sighs and shakes her head, but a small smile forms on her lips. She really is in love with an idiot.

[siobhanbooks]

Xaden finds out Bodhi’s Queer!

Coming out stories are my favorite

Okay so it's set during Iron Flame when they're in Aretia. I'm actually trying to rewrite parts of it so any feedback would be greatly appreciated

“Why didn't you tell me?” “Fuck. Xaden I don't know, okay? I just didn’t.” “There must be a reason. You told everyone else.” Bodhi took a deep breath, inhaling as much chuaram as his lungs could take. “You’re family. My family.” “Yeah. That’s why I can’t get why you wouldn’t feel like you could be yourself with me.” “Because Xaden. You’re my family. My relative. Like my dad, who practically helped to raise you.” “What about your dad?” “You knew him.” “Yeah?” “Yeah.” “Fuck, Bodhi. I’m sorry.” “You’re not the one who made me hate myself for nine years.” Xaden’s jaw dropped, losing the tight control he normally had on his emotions. His shadows whirled across the room, shaking the desk and chair. When he spoke his voice was laced with rage. “If he wasn’t already dead, I’d kill him.” He growled. “Don’t. He’s been gone almost 7 years. It’s not worth it.” Bodhi dipped his head, turning his face away from his cousin. “Bodhi,” Xaden’s voice was uncharacteristically soft. “It’s not your fault. And for you anything is worth it.”

[bittersweetresilience]

Hello, hope you’re having a good day! I wanted to contribute to the Sentitwins week somehow, so I wrote a little something in my free time, but I am too shy to share this under an account anywhere. So I figured I could send it as an ask? I didn’t use a particular prompt but I started this on the 3rd, which fits well enough. I hope you and all the other wonderful people contributing enjoy?

-Mia (from Ao3 ^^)

———

Observation skills were survival skills, Félix intimately knew. Recognizing patterns: the silent pitter-patter, the heavy thumps—you had to know which footsteps belonged to whom. You had to see the anger simmering before it exploded, wrestle with the grief before it overcame you. Arms tensing, teeth clenching, brows furrowing.

Reading people. Emotion.

Which is why he should have known.

They crashed head-on, neither seeing the other until it was too late. Félix took a few graceless steps back in an attempt to not fall, letting go of his bag in the process. It dropped to the floor with a heavy thud.

A moment of silence passed between them as they both regained their balance. Félix took it as an opportunity to study Adrien. He seemed… Normal. Normal clothes, empty hands. Nothing that indicated where he might have been. The only thing out of the ordinary were his eyes. A bit dazed, but somber. Staring at him like he shouldn’t be here.

“Hello.” Félix said, raising an eyebrow.

“Hey.” Adrien mumbled back uneasily. He kept staring, eyes flitting between him and both ends of the hallway, eventually landing on the floor between them. Félix followed his gaze, found his bag still sitting on the floor. Before he could bend down to pick it up, like a switch had flipped in his mind, Adrien jumped, eyes wild, and beat him to it.

“Hey!” Adrien repeated, with his sudden new energy. “Sorry about that!”

“That’s… Alright.” It really was the least of his concerns at the moment. “Where have you been?”

“Working.” he said, his face scrunching up for a split second before smoothing back down. “With Father. Something came up apparently. So I’m working.”

Well, Félix thought, I highly doubt that’s what you had in mind when you snuck off.

“I’m not-“ started Adrien suddenly, fidgeting with the bag still in his hands. “I’m- I’m supposed to be down there still, actually. I was just- I just had to-“ Restless fingers. Pulling at the straps, opening and closing a zipper.

“You just had to what?” Félix asked, thoughts whirling around in his head, trying to figure out what was going on. When Adrien didn’t reply, he raised his head back up, only to lock eyes with him. His cousin was squinting slightly, searching his face for something.

“Take a break.” he finally said. Nonchalant, and clearly lying. But he must have found what he was looking for in him, because he looked relieved, his face free of the earlier tension.

“I’m glad I could catch you Félix. I thought you would have left by now.“ He smiled. Small, strained, but genuine.

And Félix should have left, but he knew Adrien would want a proper goodbye.

“Well,” he drawled, “London could afford to wait a bit. Are you-“

Before he could finish his sentence though, Uncle’s voice boomed from somewhere in the house.

Adrien stilled. The tension was back.

“I really have to get back to Father, Félix. And-“ he stopped, finally relinquishing the bag from his hold. “You have to go.”

With that, he was gone.

-

The way back to London was a blur. Félix kept replaying the conversation in his head, pushing it this way and that. Play and rewind, pick it apart, lay out the bones in the sun.

Where had Adrien really been before Uncle got to him? Because he had gotten caught sneaking, that was a sure thing. Somewhere in the mansion, but where? He did like to frequent the kitchen, but that didn’t explain his behaviour.

Duusu squirmed in his pocket. He wanted to talk to her, ask her opinion, but couldn’t.

So the bones lay, bleaching, not giving him the answers he sought after.

Being back in London necessitated no fanfare. He allowed himself a hug from his mum, promised her breakfast tomorrow, and headed to his room.

The door clicked shut, and he was finally alone. More or less. Duusu, who’d been restless the whole day, immediately darted out of his pocket and started pawing at his hands.

“Hey,” he greeted her, feeling one corner of his mouth curve up in fondness. “What is it?”

She didn’t answer. He frowned, unnerved by Duusu’s silence.

“Duusu. What is it?” Félix asked again, dropping his belongings to properly tend to her. But Duusu just stopped her movements, wide eyes flitting between him and the bag on the floor, her expression achingly familiar.

Wait.

Pick it apart. Rewind, and play.

How did he not-

And his cousin-

Had his cousin been afraid?

He dropped to his knees on the floor, hands on the bag, opening the zipper.

Nothing seemed out of place at first—clothes, books, electronics. But there, at the corner, he caught a metallic shine.

Would you look at that?

He could still fail.

It was a ring. At first, he almost didn’t recognize it; the geometry unfamiliar from never having held it, never having seen it outside of the context of his cousin’s finger. A sudden urge to laugh bubbled up in him, even as his hand gripped the ring tight enough to hurt.

He’d been fooled. Been sleight of handed too, to add insult to the injury. If he weren’t absolutely terrified, he might have felt proud.

Félix closed his eyes and took a moment to breathe. Now wasn’t the time to panic. When he opened them, he found the god of Destruction floating next to Duusu, watching him. Félix nodded once and slipped the ring on, flexing his hand to get used to the weight.

“Come on, then,” he said, his voice steady despite everything. “We’ve got to get going.”

WHAT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! HI MIA!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

i got so excited when i saw this ask i didn't even realize you had a tumblr HELLO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! THANK YOU FOR SENDING THIS TO ME BELOVED OMG WHAT A BEAUTIFUL SURPRISE ON THIS DAY

my commentary below so other people can reblog this without having to read my rambling thoughts HAHAHAHAHA. love.

Observation skills were survival skills, Félix intimately knew. Recognizing patterns: the silent pitter-patter, the heavy thumps—you had to know which footsteps belonged to whom. You had to see the anger simmering before it exploded, wrestle with the grief before it overcame you.

YYYYEEEEEEESSSSSSSS YOU GET IT AUGH YEAH THIS EXACTLY. félix... oh félix... his perception as a survival strategy so true

Which is why he should have known.

WHAT SHOULD HE HAVE KNOWN!!!!!!!!!!! i'm. TENSE

The only thing out of the ordinary were his eyes. A bit dazed, but somber. Staring at him like he shouldn’t be here.

HI ADRIEN!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! ...what happened.

“That’s… Alright.” It really was the least of his concerns at the moment. “Where have you been?”

AJFKAFJADKLJFKDSJFKJSDKFDS I LOVE HIM HAHAHAHAHA you got his voice exactly it's perfect kissing him

Restless fingers. Pulling at the straps, opening and closing a zipper.

YUM i love the way you use sentence fragments it feels like félix's sharp eyes flitting from detail to detail and analyzing them. plus it makes ME restless which is extremely exciting

“Take a break.” he finally said. Nonchalant, and clearly lying. But he must have found what he was looking for in him, because he looked relieved, his face free of the earlier tension.

ADRIEN WHAT'S GOING ON ARE YOU OKAY 🥺

And Félix should have left, but he knew Adrien would want a proper goodbye.

FELIX 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

“I really have to get back to Father, Félix. And-“ he stopped, finally relinquishing the bag from his hold. “You have to go.” With that, he was gone.

AAAUUUUGHH OH NO!!!!!!!!!!!!! relinquishing the bag like he relinquishes félix... i'm on the floor. SENTITWINS 😭😭😭

Play and rewind, pick it apart, lay out the bones in the sun.

i need to eat this sentence thank you for enriching my brain

Being back in London necessitated no fanfare. He allowed himself a hug from his mum, promised her breakfast tomorrow, and headed to his room.

LOVE THIS i'm biting this félix and amélie crumb pspspspsps hiiiiii my queen... félix you mama's boy.

But Duusu just stopped her movements, wide eyes flitting between him and the bag on the floor, her expression achingly familiar.

that 'achingly familiar' GOT me

Had his cousin been afraid?

OHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! THE SLEIGHT OF HAND!!!!!!!!!!!!! SO SO CLEVER OMG I DIDN'T NOTICE AT ALL I'M EXPERIENCING THE EXACT SAME EMOTIONS AS FELIX

Félix closed his eyes and took a moment to breathe. Now wasn’t the time to panic.

SHAKING HIM AND HIS LOGICAL EMOTIONALLY UNFULFILLED BRAIN

Félix nodded once and slipped the ring on, flexing his hand to get used to the weight.

BLACK CAT FELIX!!!!!!!!!!!!! YAAAAAAAAYAYAYAYAYAYAYAYAYAYAY <333333333

i'm obsessed with this AUGH what a fantastic contribution!!!!!!! i'll send it to the gang posthaste and i'm sure everyone would LOVE to comment on ao3 but there's never any pressure hope you're having the MOST wonderful day as well and thank you for sharing with me <333333

[innerslumber]

The man in the bed was silent. Starting to feel a bit apprehensive, Bucky got closer to the still form. When he got near enough for a better look, Bucky couldn’t help but stare.

Not even the clinical setting and unflattering hospital gown could take away the beauty of the man who lay sleeping. His shock of dark golden hair was spread like a halo around his head along with a full beard. A tall body, clearly having known a life of exertion, took up the length of the mattress. A strong nose with sculpted lips made a statement on that beautiful face. Bucky couldn’t tell the man’s eye color since they were closed but the lashes were long and full. 

Bucky’s eyes turned to the side where the patient’s information was posted. The clipboard listed his name and other various information, including rank. But the most interesting information was the diagnosis. 

Persistent vegetative state?

“Excuse me but what are you doing here?”

Bucky whirled around in surprise as his heart beat frantically in his chest. He faced a nurse who was scrutinizing him intensely and he wet his lips nervously before finding his voice.

“Hi. My name is Bucky and I’m the new veterans outreach counselor. I was supposed to be speaking to someone but-” Bucky looked down at the sleeping man, “maybe I have the wrong room?”

“Who are you looking for?”

“Ah, hold on a sec,” Bucky asked, as he opened up his phone. “I was supposed to see Jake Lattimore?” 

The nurse pointed toward the hall over her shoulders. “Lattimore is in room #516.”

“Oh, I must have written the wrong number down. Sorry about that.”

The nurse’s demeanor relaxed a bit when she realized that Bucky wasn’t an intruder and was just lost. “No problem. Is there anything else I can help you with?”

“No, I’m all right. Thank you.” Bucky smiled and started to walk away but his curiosity got the better of him. He turned back to the nurse and tipped his head toward the sleeping patient. “Actually um…could I ask about how this gentleman got here? I saw that his chart said ‘persistent vegetative state’? What does that mean?”

“Basically, it means a coma.” The nurse inspected the various machines that surrounded the bed and whatever numbers she was looking for, it must have looked normal. “Captain Rogers has been sleeping for a year.”

---------------------------------------------------

To Sleep, Perchance to Dream

@stuckybingo Moodboard and Blurb. Square N4 : “Coma” By Navya @mind-empty-heart-full

[idreamofticklehugs]

Rough day, Wonderful night

It had been such a long day.  You got home and immediately changed into your oldest and most worn out pajamas.  You collapsed on the bed and pulled out your phone, letting your brain shut off while you scrolled social media.  Fifteen minutes later, your phone rang; it was your favorite person.  

“Hey.”  You said.  You got a groan in response.  

“Hi.”

“What’s going on?  Are you ok?” You asked.

“Today was a horrible day.  Everything went wrong.”

“Aw, Honey, I’m sorry.  Are you staying late tonight?”

“No, everything is taken care of; I’m just really frustrated and I don’t want it to come off on you.  I’m trying to detach from work before I come home.”

“It’s ok, everyone has bad days. I understand. Are you doing alright?”

“Can you just keep talking?  Hearing your voice is calming me down.”

 “Are you hungry?  Nothing is started yet, but I can whip something up.  If you’re going to be home soon, I can start getting ready.”

“‘Getting ready’?”

“I just meant get things ready.”  You hopped up and walked over to the closet to pull out some jeans and a shirt.  You wanted to make their night better, not bring them down with your problems.  

“I was craving pizza earlier, but I was already home before I remembered that we ate that frozen pizza already.  There’s not a whole lot in the fridge, cause I’m getting groceries tomorrow, but I can always throw something in the instant pot.  There might be something in the back of the freezer we can throw in the oven too, and just have a quiet night.  I’ll work with whatever we have, so you don’t have to pick anything up.”  Your bad day was forgotten as you became determined to make their day better.   “There’s a couple movies we’ve been wanting to see, or we can just chill and go to bed early.”

“Why are you about to change out of your pajamas?”

The voice came from the phone, and from behind you.  You gasped and whirled around.  They were standing there with a tired smile on their face.  You walked over and wrapped your arms around their neck; they squeezed you tight before letting you go.

“You scared me! You’re home early.”

“Boss let me leave.  I put out so many fires in the office today, that when things were finally running smoothly again, he let me go before anything else happened. Now,” They gently cupped your face in their hand. “Did you neglect to tell me something?  No, don’t answer that yet, cause it won’t be a real answer.  So, I’ll expound a little further.  Darling, you are currently in your oldest pajamas.  Normally when you come home, you don’t bother changing unless something is going on; then, you change into sweats.  It is only on bad days when you go straight into those. Now, why are you wearing them and why were you about to change out of them?”

“No reason,” You hedged, “It was just a long day and I’m feeling a little tired.  That’s all.  I was just going to get changed back so I could feel productive and start on dinner before you got home.”

They hummed with squinted eyes. They took your hand and led you to sit with them on the bed.

“Why don’t you tell me about your day.”  They said.

“We’re not talking about me right now; we’re talking about you.”

“We actually are talking about you.  We were talking about why you were in your old I’m done with today pajamas.”

“Well, it’s rude to just talk about me.  I want you to talk about your day.  I want to make your day better, not bring you down with my day.”

“You can make me feel better by telling me about your day, especially if said day is in danger of ‘bringing me down’ as you say.” 

“My day doesn’t matter.  Just let me baby you for once.  Let me take care of you.”

“You can do that by telling me what happened.  It makes me very sad when you don’t share your feelings with me.”  They said, pouting comically; they were holding back a smirk.  You realized what you both needed to make the day better.  And this conversation was the perfect way for both of you to get what you wanted.  Something they apparently had already realized, given the look on their face.  You tried not to blush, even as butterflies came to life in your stomach.  You loved it, yes, but it still flustered you like crazy, especially since you knew what was coming.  You bit her tongue to keep a straight face, and shook your head.

“I’m feeling stubborn.  It was nothing.”

“Uh, uh, uh.  You know ‘Nothing’ doesn’t work for me. And you know how I feel about stubbornness. Remember what happened last time you refused to tell me anything?”

You squirmed; you just couldn’t help it.  You wanted to back up, but fought the urge; you couldn’t give in so easily.  They smirked.  “Ah, I see you do remember.  So, darling, are you going to tell me about your day, or am I going to have to let out all of my frustration on you?”

You put your hands out in front of you in defense, trying not to giggle.

“I just want to be the one to help you for once.”

“Alright,” They sighed deeply, as though it pained them to do it, “I guess it’s the hard way.”

They pounced on you and you yelped, falling back on the pillows.  You dissolved into giggles before they even touched you; once they did, however, you screamed.  They went right for your torso.  It wasn’t thought out or strategic, just wherever they could reach around your hands.  They were laughing too.  As you enjoyed getting tickled, they loved tickling you.

“Well,” They teased, “Since you seem to have forgotten your day, I’ll just have to tickle you until I’ve forgotten mine.”  They pushed their hands in, moving around yours with the skill that comes from experience.  They scribbled their fingers over your stomach and sides, teasing you and making you blush.  They traveled up to your ribs and scratched their fingers gently on each one, making you squeal. They dropped their hands back down to your stomach and you tried to reach out and grab their hands.  You fell right for their plan; of course they knew you were going to do that.  They shot his hands under your arms, and you trapped them there as soon as you brought your arms crashing back down to your sides.  They wiggled their fingers and teased you about the fact that you must love being tickled since you were keeping their hands stuck there.  They pulled one of their hands back down to your ribs and kept it there.  Your hands latched onto their wrist and they grabbed them with their other hand and kept all four of your hands at your ribs.  They leaned in close and peppered your face with kisses, making you giggle in between your shrieks. They let your hands go and let their hands travel at random, wherever they wanted with no pattern. You were laughing so hard you were almost silent, except for the squeaks when they hit a sensitive spot.  You were thrashing around, your body’s natural reaction to protect itself, but you were loving every second.  You both needed to laugh, to have positive contact and help each other forget all of the stress for a while.  They slowly came to a stop and wrapped their arms around you as you quietly giggled from the leftover feelings.  They brushed the hair out of your eyes and held you close.  

“I’ll order pizza.  You go pick out the funniest movie we’ve been wanting to watch.  We are having a night in.  You are going to be loved on for the rest of the night.” They lightly kissed the end of your nose. “Thank you for making me feel better.  Did I help you too?”

You giggled again and blushed. “You know you did.  But I wanted to love on you tonight.”

“You just did.” They fluttered their fingers on the base of your neck and you flinched and squeaked.  “I’m going to go order and get changed.  You get comfortable.  I’ll bring the hairbrush when I come back so I play with your hair without getting tangled.  Your hair got a little messed up during all that squirming you were doing.  As long as you stay next to me, we’ll call it an even trade.” 

You were snuggled up together on the bed, their arms wrapped around you.  Every once in a while, they would drag their fingers lightly across you, making you giggle and squirm.  After one such instance, they pulled you tight up against them and just held you in their embrace.  

  “You are wonderful.  Thank you for making my day so much better.” 

[betterbooktitles]

On looking older than I am:

By the time I was a teenager, I’d fully accepted my early adulthood. When I wasn’t playing a sport or acting in a play, my number one hobby was taking a John Updike book (sorry) to a coffee shop. I frequented a place within walking distance of my house in Cleveland called Talkies. I sat at the front bar with my book and ate a second lunch at 3 PM. I talked to random people sipping coffee and smoking cigarettes inside. One was a researcher at Case Western who studied molecular biology. He seemed to know no one in Cleveland except me and the baristas. Another guy was a white dude with dreadlocks, a gifted actor who bussed tables at the fancy restaurant next door. Every barista was a 20-something woman who told me about their various trysts in graphic detail. Multiple times the men offered me cigarettes or to split a joint outside. No wonder it took me years to finish one of the Rabbit novels. I was soaking up more than enough adult content in my real life than any book could offer.

The oddest encounter occurred at a hotel in Annapolis, Maryland when I was 15. I attended a boys’ catholic prep school and because my parents and I were taking a few college campus tours during our family trip, and you never know who you might bump into, I chose to wear the tie and khakis I would normally wear in class. I had chosen an aqua shirt with a bright textured gold tie that morning and was still wearing it when I approached the front desk that evening. I promised my English teacher I would have a late assingment on his desk Monday morning despite my travel schedule. I had finished writing it on my mom’s laptop and put it on a flash drive. 

“Is there an office in the hotel with a printer?” I asked the woman at the front desk. I deepened my voice. “My boss needs this report ASAP.”

The woman behind the desk wore a maroon and beige polo shirt with the name of the hotel embroidered on one side and a fat plastic name tag that read “Jess” on the other. She kept her curly brown hair tied back behind her head and looked like she was ready to take a nap rather than help one more jerk fix his malfunctioning room key or find the hotel’s office. She smiled though and led the way. We walked through a large banquet hall that looked like it was hosting a wedding or prom. Pink uplighting and one of those whirling balls with differently colored light filters spun around and painted the room. I watched fat white men in suits sip cocktails out of plastic cups and flirt with young women half their size and age. A number of them wore saris. 

“What is this?” I said aloud. 

“It’s a party for the IMF.” the woman said. “You’re not with them?”

“No, I’m on a different kind of work trip.” I said.

She kept walking until we found a door on the side of the room. Bright tube lighting poured into the mock nightclub when she opened it. I hurried in so as to not disturb the party atmosphere too long, and to my surprise, she shut the door behind us and stayed to watch me use the office. 

Computers in 2002, especially out-of-date communal ones used by everyone in a hotel, were not very fast. The fat glass monitor was already on, and when I opened the browser, I had a good two minutes to chat, which the hotel employee seemed keen on doing.

“So where are you headed?” She asked.

“Well, it’s here tonight, then New York, then upstate somewhere, back to Cleveland.”

“Busy weekend.” 

“Yes, we’re- I’m trying to squeeze in a lot.” 

We talked about my work. I vaguely said I was on a deadline for a writing assignment which made me sound like a journalist or someone with an entry-level publishing job. At some point, she said she was glad I wasn’t with the loud bankers because I seemed too nice and cute to work with them. 

Was this happening?

I found my little essay about Chaucer and clicked print. As a printer the size of a Fiat whirred to life and started pumping out the pages, the woman said: 

“I’m actually off the clock now if you want to have a drink with me.”

“I’d love that,” I said.

I put the essay in a folder (not a professional manila folder, a high school-ass, bright glossy blue folder with my school’s logo on it) and followed her to the hotel bar.

I ordered a beer in the annoying fake way people do in movies: the actor walks up to the bar and instead of checking what’s on tap or thinking of their brand of choice like ‘Bud’ or ‘Stella’ or even naming a type like ‘stout’ or ‘pilsner’ the actor confidently says “I’ll have a beer” and the extra playing the bartender wordlessly gets to pouring.

“I’ll have a beer!” I said to the bartender who squinted his eyes at me and cocked his head. 

“OK…” he pointed at Jess, who still had her uniform and name tag on. 

“Jack and Coke, Ben.” 

I sipped the beer slowly. We drank and talked about work and if Jess was going to bite the bullet and go to grad school. She asked if I wanted, when we finished our drinks, to go with her to a house party up the street.

“We can smoke a bowl, listen to my friend play some music. It’ll be fun.” she assure me.

“I really shouldn’t,” I said, “We’re- I’m… I have an early morning.”

“Ah,” she said, looking down at her drink.

I now realize that every coy excuse I made sounded like I had a girlfriend or wife at home and I maybe had a problem with drugs and alcohol that might make me do something I regretted. I was playing an adult better than I ever had in my life.

“So, someone is with you in your room, then?” Jess asked nervously.

“Yeah. There are people in my room.” 

And here, dear reader, I’m sorry (or happy) to tell you that I fessed up.

“I’m staying with my parents.” I said.

“Oh. That’s sweet. Are they meeting up with you on this trip? Where are they from?”

“We drove here together from Cleveland, actually.”

“Oh, OK.” She said, looking confused.

“I- You see. I’m not on a work trip. I’m seeing schools.” I looked at the bartender who was pretending not to listen on the other side of the empty bar.

“Grad schools?”

“No. Listen. Sorry. I’m in high school.”

“Wait- how old are you?”

“I’m 15.”

“Jesus. Uuughh!” She leaned her torso over the bar as if she was fainting, and looked up at me with one eye over her glass. “Oh, boy. I know how to pick ‘em.”

“I look older,” I said, consolingly. 

“Yes. You do. Oh, God. Wow. OK. Ummm.” She sat up and did a little drum roll with her hands on the bar.

I chugged the rest of my beer. 

Read the rest of the essay here.

[olivia-anderson-fanfic]

Broken Hearts Are Contagious

Summary: If Marinette doesn't learn to love Tim back before the end of the week, he will die. She is not the victim... so why does she feel like crying?

Written for @maribatserver 's Maribat March

Day 1: Origin Story (for Poison Ivy)

Marinette sips at her drink. It’s non-alcoholic, of course, she isn’t intent on openly breaking the law when Commissioner Gordon is within sight. But that doesn’t change the fact that she is oh-so-tempted to try. She eyes the champagne pyramid not too far away. It is entirely decorative – it would be impossible to get a drink without everything toppling over, and even if you do manage to get one there is a high chance that the drink will be flat.

Then again, she really hates Wayne Galas, and that was a surefire way to make sure she would never have to go again…

Before she can commit to that particular bad idea, a hand taps her on the shoulder.

She whirls around to find a fortunately familiar face. Tim was always one to sneak up on people. He insists it’s accidental, and that he doesn’t mean to, but she has her doubts, because he always smiles so widely whenever he manages to catch her off-guard.

Regardless of his possibly evil ways, he is now leaning against the wall next to her. His hair is brushed, for once, slicked out of his face with far too much gel. She is sorely tempted to mess it up, purely as a petty form of revenge, but considering he is her ticket out of here… it seems like a bad idea.

She can always do it later.

“Tim,” she says, her bitter expression falling away in favor of a faint smile. “Thank the gods you’re here.”

“I’m here to save the day,” he says with a sarcastic little bow, his lips curling in a smirk. “Let’s run away together.”

She doesn’t wait for another second before gathering up her dress in her hands. The air is cloyingly sweet from all of the intermingling perfumes, and she wants out. “Absolutely. How do we escape?”

“Depends, are you down to climb a drainpipe?”

“There’s no way that’ll hold our weight,” Marinette says, her eyebrows raising.

He huffs, but he doesn’t actually seem all that put out. “It might. But, fine, guess we’ll just have to leave the normal way.”

So, hand in hand, they make their grand escape.

Okay, that might be a little dramatic, all they do is find their way to a higher balcony so they can talk without fear of being forced into conversations about stocks and taxes and ooooh, I just LOVE your dress, DO tell me where you got it.

No, they have much more interesting conversations in store for them, like gossip.

“They say there’s a new assassin on the loose,” says Tim.

She has heard that. Quite a few rich people had suddenly been found dead – poisoned, to be specific. But, as she looks out over the Gala below them, she is sorry to say that the assassin is not going fast enough.

Marinette hums absently. “There’s always another assassin.”

“It’s a good line of work. Business is booming. If only I didn’t have those pesky morals,” sighs Tim.

Marinette can only nod along. One day she, too, will have a terrible accident that leads to her becoming a supervillain, she is sure her time will come eventually.

But, for now, she is much more interested in chatting with her best friend.

“I heard Cobblepot is secretly a Rogue,” Marinette says, leaning over the railing so she could properly squint at the man. She opts to ignore the rest of that particular rumor, because not even their friend Bernard would believe that the umbrellas the man carried were all secretly insane gadgets.

Tim snickers as if he can hear her thought process. “Yeah? Are you gonna tell me you believe in The Batman, too?”

She grins. “And what if I do? What would you do?”

“Well, stop you from hanging out with Bernard, for one.”

Marinette gasps. “You would never! My mental health would shatter if I was not allowed to talk to my emotional support delusional friend.”

“I need you to repeat the last four words of that sentence for me.”

“... emotional support delusional friend?”

“Yeah, thanks for proving my point.”

“You’re no fuuuuuun.”

“I’m practical. I go out at night all the time. If he existed, I think I would have seen him by now.”

Okay, does Marinette actually believe in Batman? No, absolutely not. But damn if she wasn’t going to defend his honor. “Well, yeah, if he’s a hybrid half-man, half-bat being, it makes sense that he would be trying to hide himself as much as possible!”

“And that’s how I know you’re not a true bat-fan. Any true believer knows he is three-fourths bat and one-fourth man.”

Alas, she has been caught.

She leans back against the banister, pouting. “How was I supposed to know you were actually paying attention to Bernard’s rants? I always thought you were lost in your own head. You never speak!”

He lifts his hands in a sheepish little shrug. “I like listening to you guys talk.”

“Ha. Simp.”

He rolls his eyes. “Yeah, okay. Real mature.”

“I am, thank you for noticing. This is why I should be allowed to drink underage —.”

She never finishes her sentence, because her eyes stray to the champagne tower, and that particular train of thought is derailed. For a woman stands at the base of the pyramid. Which is already strange, but her outfit is even stranger. A dress that appears to be made out of leaves, rustling behind her as she walked. Red hair is threaded with thick green ribbons that remind her of vines.

Dully, Marinette thinks she might actually want to know where the woman had gotten her dress.

A hand reaches out and plucks a champagne glass from the pyramid.

It topples faster than you might expect, the glasses clinking against each other briefly before they’re sent to the floor, shattering in a messy display. Glass shards and liquid gold spilling across the tile.

If people weren’t looking at the mysterious woman before, they certainly are now.

She smiles.

“Hello, Gotham,” she says, her voice echoing. Is she hooked up to a mic? Or is she just that good at projecting? “I’m the newest assassin, Poison Ivy.”

Understandably, most people back up a few steps. Even Tim and Marinette, who are safely on a balcony she could not reasonably reach anytime soon, flinch backward.

She smiles wider.

“You’re kinda a bad assassin, though,” Brucie Wayne speaks up, and everyone in the vicinity immediately cringes. “I mean, why tell us now? Why not – like – after you kill us?”

“Easy! Because you’re all already dead!”

Brucie looks down at himself, as if to confirm that he has legs.

The people who have two functioning brain cells to rub together, though, immediately blanche at the news. They’re already doomed? How? Her name more than implies that her killing method of choice is poison, so… where is it? It can’t be the food, people hardly eat at parties like this (despite how good the food is), and it’s not as if she could poison every single drink without anyone noticing.

“There is poison in the very air you breathe.”

Wait, what?

Her hands come up to cover her mouth and nose, as if it is still something she can fix. She has been smelling that sickening sweetness for well over ten minutes now, she can’t uninhale it.

“It’s slow-acting…  not that slow-acting, you all have around a week, max, but…” she shrugs, her eyes gleaming. “I figured I should give you all the time to say goodbye to your loved ones.”

That was… surprisingly generous.

For some reason, Marinette can’t bring herself to trust it.

Indeed, Poison Ivy continues on: “Well, your loved ones. I’m sure all of you know that you are unlovable, that they only love your money… I’m sure they’ll all be very pleased to learn of your sudden passing.”

Unsurprisingly, this is not what people want to hear immediately after being told that they are going to die in a week or less.

“In fact, I’m willing to bet on all of you rich people being unloved – so much so that my little plants are based around it! If any of you love someone, and find it to not be reciprocated, the plant will take root, and you will die.”

It is deathly silent.

A… plant?

“Wait! How?” Marinette is the first one to speak up. She isn’t scared, not really, just confused beyond measure.

And Poison Ivy seems to be experiencing the same strange emotion, because she balks a little bit upon seeing Tim and Marinette. She hesitates, briefly, her confident posture wavering, before she brings herself back to the present, outright laughing at her.

“You are all going to die, and you want to know how?”

Marinette just nods. Call it denial and bargaining mixing together into one very unfortunate cocktail (she really should have drank earlier), but she has to know.

The woman considers her for a moment, before sighing. “The plants should have already taken root in all of your brains. They feed off of certain nutrients. As time continues on, they will run out of room and begin pushing their way down, through your heart, into your lungs…” She waves a hand. “I’m sure that I don’t need to continue, we all get the idea.”

Brucie looks like he absolutely does not.

But Poison Ivy does not seem to care enough to explain anything to him.

“Get your affairs in order, everyone!”

No one even tries to stop her when she leaves.

Someone laughs, but it is nervous. A woman tucks her hair behind her ear. “Well… it’s a good thing that I’m married, now, isn’t it?” she asks her husband.

Said husband looks like he would much rather be anywhere but there. “So – so true, honey.”

Marinette remembers, dully, that both of them are cheating on each other. She wonders if they know. She wonders if either of them will be around next week.

She will live, though.

“Thank the gods I decided I wasn’t going to date anyone until college,” Marinette jokes lightly.

Tim wheezes.

She didn’t think that the joke was that funny.

“Yep, isn’t that… convenient?” he says, sounding pained.

She looks over at him, frowning, and finds him leaning against the banister. His hands grip the marble, his knuckles turning white. She is pretty sure that this is the palest she has ever seen him.

Dread begins to trickle down her back.

“Tim?”

He winces.

“You like someone that doesn’t like you back, don’t you?”

He nods ever so slightly, his gaze determinedly pointed at their feet.

“It’s not Bernard, is it?” she tries.

He shakes his head.

And Marinette can’t help it – she bursts out laughing. Until she is gasping for breath between peals of laughter. She laughs so hard she feels tears begin to well in her eyes.

Tim jolts to look at her. “What the hell is funny about any of this?”

“I was just thinking…” she quickly swipes her fingers beneath her eye in fruitless hopes that her mascara won’t run, still giggling. “I was wondering if this was going to be the start of my supervillain arc or something.”

Tim gives her an incredulous look.

This, of course, only makes her laugh harder.

~

One week to live, max.

It is… an interesting stipulation. She assumes that ‘Poison Ivy’ wants her victims to suffer, but why only for a week?

It could be that the ‘disease’ (Marinette refuses to believe that plants can be in any way sentient) is fast-acting, but it also might be a safeguard of sorts. Maybe there is a way to counteract the disease, some sort of cure.

Maybe that was hopeful thinking.

Maybe that would be worse for her in the long run. It is probably easier to give up – like Tim seems to have, it has not escaped her notice that it is lunchtime and he still hasn’t attended any of their shared classes – and accept that there is nothing you can do instead of trying fruitlessly to find a solution.

After all, she is just a random high schooler. Even if there is a cure of some sort, there is nothing that she can do. She is only passing her biology class by the skin of her teeth! She can’t deal with a bioweapon!

She presses her face into her hands. The cafeteria is silent. Basically no one is attending classes today. They’re all stressed about the bioweapon thing and don’t want to spend their last moments in a classroom.

She gets that.

And yet.

She doesn’t want to be alone right now.

She wants her best friend.

But, while he is her best friend, she isn’t his. And the thought makes her want to be sick. For once, the fact that her skin tinges green in the school cafeteria isn’t actually due to the food. She hasn’t eaten any, and she can't even smell it thanks to the horrible sugary smell that has been trapped in her nose since the Gala.

She pushes her plate out of the way and sinks to rest her head against the table, as if it might soothe her headache.

It doesn’t.

Most likely because the headache is more metaphorical than literal.

It’s a bit literal, too, though. She’s probably gritting her teeth.

How could she not?

She doesn’t want to talk to Tim. She doesn’t want to know how many of their interactions over the years they hadn’t been on the same page for. Doesn’t want to have to think about all of the joking flirting they had done, and how it had only been a joke for her.

She understands that he has feelings, and that he can’t help them, but that doesn’t make her feel any less violated.

Because, ultimately, if she had known she wouldn’t have behaved in all of the same ways, and it feels like that is part of the reason why he hadn’t told her.

He probably didn’t want things to change in their relationship, but why doesn’t she get a say in that?

Things had changed. She just hadn’t been told about it.

So, why does she still want to go to him? She feels betrayed. By him. He is the very reason she is upset, and yet she still wants to seek comfort in him.

She hates emotions. Can she have a refund? Yeah, she’s lost the receipt and all, but…

She can’t bring herself to care enough to finish the joke, even in her own mind.

It was stupid, anyway.

The silence in the cafeteria is almost oppressive.

A hand taps her on the shoulder and she hesitates, considering playing dead to make them go away. Then she realizes that she might actually convince people that she was dead, considering the current circumstances, so she lifts her head.

Bernard takes a seat beside her, smiling. The prick had been out of town during the Gala. Lucky him. If he had gone, he would currently be dying due to his unrequited crush on Tim’s stepmom.

“You should go visit him,” he says, as if it’s really that simple.

She gives him a flat look. He had always been an airhead. You’d think that watching your friend die in front of you in a mob-related school shooting would wisen you up some, but Bernard remains entirely without a brain.

She supposes she should have expected this. After all, Brucie Wayne exists. Clearly, it is possible.

“It’s not that easy,” she says, sinking back against the table again, wondering if she can meld with it and avoid the conversation.

“I know. But you’re going to regret it if you don’t.”

Marinette pauses and lifts her head to meet his eyes.

She hates it when the dumbest person in the room makes a good point.

Because doesn’t that make her the new dumbest person by default?

Still, she is also the most stubborn, so she glares at him. “I’m sorry, if I was dying because I secretly had a crush on you this whole time, would you want to come visit me?”

Bernard, to his credit, actually considers this. And then, in true Bernard fashion, just shrugs.

She groans. “I’ll be fine.”

He snorts. “You’re not even fine now. Mari, no offense, but have you seen yourself?”

“Sorry for not looking great after finding out my best friend of several years is going to die because I can’t reciprocate his feelings,” she says flatly.

Bernard sobers, if only slightly.

He sighs, matching her posture. “You’re going to regret it if you don’t,” he repeats.

Marinette glares at the tray in front of her like it has personally offended her. To be fair, it has – who decided that melted cheese on bread is a good entree?

“I’m going to go grab something else for lunch,” she says, pushing the tray over to him. “No one is doing classes today, anyway.”

Bernard doesn’t say a word about her dumb excuse. Maybe he is too concentrated on the terrible ‘food’ that has been forced upon him.

She can’t bring herself to care. As long as no one questions her, she will be fine.

~

Marinette stares up at the wooden lattice that she can use to reach Tim’s window. It is supposed to house flowers, she is pretty sure, but they have long since shriveled up and died. It wasn’t due to neglect, the Drakes had always made sure that the outside of their house, at least, was always well tended to. No, this, she was pretty sure that she had just trampled over the plants so many times while visiting her friend that they just stopped bothering to grow.

She supposes that it could be ironic, that the flowers are dead because of her, and flowers are killing her friend because of her, but she can’t seem to find the energy to wax poetic right now.

For a moment, she doesn’t move, her hand resting against the wooden lattice.

Should she hang out with him? If he is going to die, she wants to spend time with him before he goes… but would that make him die faster? Would constant, tiny rejections make the flowers – the disease – take over faster?

How does this stupid fake flower disease even work? What are the stipulations?

She hates being helpless.

She clambers up the lattice and makes sure she is fully seated on the windowsill before she raps her knuckles against the glass. She peers into the dark room, wondering if anyone is even there, trying to make out shapes in the dark.

A lump on the bed slowly shifts, an arm reaching out to flick on a lamp. Tim sits up slowly. He blinks bleary eyes open.

And then he bolts upright.

Tim stares at her, as if he is half convinced that she’s a hallucination.

For a moment, she wishes for that to be the case but, when his otherwise pale cheeks flush with the slightest bit of color upon seeing her, her stomach lurches in a way that assures her that all of this is very much real.

He scrambles to his feet so fast he almost slips on his blanket, and she almost huffs a laugh at the sight. He manages a sheepish smile.

The window latch unlocks and she is allowed to make her way inside.

Tim… doesn’t look great. His pajamas swamp him and his hair is almost painfully messy, but all she can really focus on is how gaunt his face looks.

He looks frail.

A week… max.

Marinette can’t bring herself to speak, not even to say hi.

“I – I didn’t know whether you would come,” he admits.

Marinette manages a ghost of a smile. “I considered not.”

He gives an aborted little laugh. “... well, you’ve always been brutally honest, I guess.”

… was she?

Marinette would say quite the opposite, that she usually beat around the bush for most things, so long as they weren’t vitally important.

But here he was, defending her rudeness with ease, in fact he almost seemed fond. So much so that she almost began to wonder whether he was right and she was the one that was wrong.

Or whether he didn’t even know her. Whether the ‘Marinette’ that he had fallen in love with wasn’t even actually her, but instead some idolized version of her.

She was no angel. She had flaws. She was just a regular person.

She wonders if Tim would agree if she said those words aloud. But, ultimately, she isn’t the type to say that, to bring those things out into the open, so instead she gives a laugh – it is late, and it does nothing to clear the awkward air, but it is already out there, so it’s not as if it can be taken back.

Tim’s smile wavers, if only slightly. “... how about a movie?”

She almost jumps at the opportunity to have something break the silence.

But she soon realizes her mistake because, once the movie is on, there is really no reason to talk anymore. Tim hadn’t put on a purposefully bad movie they could laugh at together. He had opted for Howl’s Moving Castle. The subbed version, they aren’t plebs… but this also meant that they have to concentrate on the movie somewhat in order to keep track of what is going on.

Not that they don’t already know it all by heart. They’ve rewatched it dozens of times over the years.

Marinette had always thought the romance between Howl and Sophie was a little bit forced, but she liked the movie regardless. And, even if she hadn’t, it wasn’t as if she was going to stop Tim from watching the movie he chose when he was going to die soon.

Still.

They are both quiet, as is standard for watching a movie, and yet… this time, it is different. Now, she is aware of the way Tim’s eyes stray to her more often than not.

The silence isn’t the fond, loving kind that people always talk about. It is uncomfortable. It is an unspoken acknowledgment that things have changed.

Marinette wishes, silently, for things to go back to the way they were.

She wants her best friend back.

But it looks as if she is going to have to settle for the next best thing.

She looks at Tim. He’s lying against the pillows in a way that would seem casual if it were not for the sunkenness of his eyes. His lips are curled into the slightest of smiles as he looks at the screen, but he is quick to turn his attention onto her.

She takes on deep breath, steeling herself.

It doesn’t help.

But she still grabs him by the shirt and drags his lips up to meet hers anyway.

She fights down a wave of revulsion.

He can’t die. He can’t! She can bear to live in discomfort. She is not going to live without him, not if she can help it.

He kisses her back. He is, objectively, a good kisser. His hands cradle her face like she is something precious.

She wants to be sick. Her hands ball tighter in his shirt.

She just needs to think of all of those movies. The ones where the girl realizes that she actually loved the guy all along, and was just too stupid to not realize it before.

She swears she can taste copper. She nearly chokes on it.

She does love Tim. He is sweet, and kind, and intelligent, and her best friend. Don’t people talk about how a good friendship leads to a good relationship?

Right?

Right?

He pulls back (finally).

His thumbs swipe beneath her eyes. Had she been crying? 

It might not work if she cries.

She doesn’t want to open her eyes. Doesn’t want to see Tim’s face. Doesn’t want to know whether she had accidentally doomed him.

This is all so unfair.

Why is she the one who has to change?

Why can’t he love her in the way she loves him?

She can’t breathe.

She can’t breathe.

She can’t breathe.

She opens her eyes to find his lips stained a deep red. His eyes are wide with horror.

Marinette feels a strange wave of satisfaction. At least it isn’t her, for once.

When she keels forward, coughing into their laps, bloodied flower petals spill from her lips.

[darklydeliciousdesires]

Lost & Found - Chapter Twenty Two.

Well, guys, here it is. Sorry it's a few days late, but as you all know I have so much going in my life at the moment, but I made an effort to get this to you timely, the final chapter of our story. Thank you all for your continued readership, you honestly mean the world to me :)

Previous chapters - One Two Three Four Five Six Seven Eight Nine Ten Eleven Twelve Thirteen Fourteen Fifteen Sixteen Seventeen Eighteen Nineteen Twenty Twenty One

Words - 3,533

Warnings - 18+ content throughout, Minors DNI. Recounts of kidnap, child trafficking, physical/verbal/sexual abuse.

“My stomach is hungry, but I’m not.” Turning to look at him, she pulled a half-scrunched face. “Is that weird?” 

“Can’t relate. Whenever my belly is demanding I feed it, I gotta do it. You know how hangry I get.”  

He made quite the valid point. Guero was like a bear emerging from hibernation when in need of food; very much motivated towards eating, and somewhat aggressive if couldn’t get his hands on what he required. “Mother fucking Mary, I do!”  

Her giggle brought a little light to her face that had been all but extinguished in the time they’d lain on the bed, Emma battling with her emotions surrounding the fact that Rocco was no more. Just then, her phone beeped, Guero passing it to her as she sat up, pressing the message icon, her heart skipping a beat.  

‘Will call you soon, darling. So relieved you’re alright. It’s all over now. Love you all the world. Mom xxx’ 

Her bottom lip wobbled, her throat pinching tight. “Oh my god.” She got that Marie was perhaps a little too distracted at present, having to play the part of the frantic wife whose husband was missing, explaining it to the kids and her family, so calling might have been difficult. A text was enough, though. It also showed Vincent’s intentions clearly. He was living up to his promises.  

“As far as mafia bosses go, he seems pretty fair,” Guero remarked, after she’d shared those thoughts with him. “I know he’s only been at the helm for like, a couple hours, but yeah. At least we don’t have to be doing nothing for him we don’t wanna be.” He paused to let her speak, but her words were halted when his stomach let out a very audible growl.  

“Somebody needs feeding,” she commented, arching an eyebrow as they both shared soft laughter. 

“Yeah, I guess I do.” 

Shifting herself up, she kissed his chest, reaching to stroke his face. “I’ll go put that pizza in the oven. Just because I don’t feel like eating, doesn’t mean you shouldn’t. I can always nibble at a slice, if you don’t inhale the entire thing in three minutes.” 

Getting up, he followed her through to the kitchen. “How well my woman knows me.” 

While Emma went about jazzing up the frozen pizza with a little extra in the way of meat, cheese and olives, Guero stood and observed, handing her a tequila shot she sank in one. 

“Keep ‘em coming, baby.”  

He grinned. “As I will with you as soon as I’ve filled my stomach. If you want me to, that is?” He was mindful that perhaps sexual gymnastics might not be too high on her list of priorities.  

Leaning to kiss him, she gave his cheek a playful nibble. “it’ll be the perfect thing to take my mind off of it all.”  

It proved to be perfect for just that, Emma falling asleep soon after she’d been thoroughly ploughed into the mattress. In the coming days, though, it all whirled around her head like a small tornado, trying to find her balance and return to normal, yet one thing hung over her like a fog. She hadn’t heard back from Marie.  

Two days passed, Emma feeling confused and hurt, throwing herself into her work to deal with what she assumed to be some kind of rejection, venting all to Lee.  

“I wouldn’t worry, sunshine,” her friend began, handing her a can of lubricant to assist in loosening a rusted exhaust clamp. “She’s probably got a lot on, liaising with the police, reporting Rocco as a missing person, all the while dealing with the fact that he actually fuckin’ ain’t missing at all. I bet she’s had a lotta emotions to process, just like you have.”  

Lee’s words made a lot of sense, Emma realising that perhaps it was a little selfish given the circumstances, for her to expect Marie’s immediate attention when she too had so much to process in the aftermath. “I think you’re right, yeah. I’ll give her time on it.”  

Time. It was only natural that Marie needed some, she assumed, kicking herself a little for thinking selfishly. Of course, she had much to deal with and just because she wasn’t at the epicentre of it didn’t mean she cared any less. “You’re thirty, a grown woman. You can deal with your mom not calling you right away.” she thought to herself while returning to her work. 

Come the following afternoon, though, Emma discovered that time moved a lot quicker than she’d envisioned it would, seeing a large, white vehicle driving slowly through the yard, coming to a stop in the space between the clubhouse and the workshop. When the door opened, she could barely believe her eyes. There, looking way too glamorous for her surroundings, stood the one person her heart had ached for since her escape. 

She should have known the woman who folded her loving wings around her for nineteen years would never abandon her, now she could safely find a way back to her again. 

“Mom?” She could scarcely believe it, but there she was. There was the woman who had loved her and tried so valiantly to keep her safe all those years. Pulling off her gloves, she shot out from the workshop, running with tears pooling her eyes towards the loving, open arms that awaited her. “Mom!” Reaching out, she flung her arms around her, Marie clasping her tight, breathing in her scent, sobbing hard into her hair with relief.  

Even the most hardened of men who had exited the clubhouse to witness the scene felt their throats pinch, watching the women reconnect, the bond they had incredible. It was borne of love and loyalty, victims of similar circumstance and because of such, perhaps even stronger than that of DNA and blood.  

“Emsy, oh my god. Oh, I missed you so, so much!” Marie cried, stroking her hair, holding her in a tight embrace. 

“What are you doing here? I thought you were gonna call! Are the kids with you?” she gasped, Marie rocking her in her arms, pulling back a little to look at her.  

“No, I couldn’t take them out of school, so they’re with friends. And I was gonna call, but it didn’t seem enough. Besides, had to show my face in the interests of looking concerned about my husband going missing out here. Nobody needs to know it was my daughter who I really came to see.”  

Emma’s bottom lip quivered, Marie smoothing her hair and clutching her close again, soothing her as she began to sob. “Love you all the world, my darling. It’s over now, baby girl. All over. Shhh, it’s alright.”  

“I feel... I... so much guilt, and I don’t feel like I should be relieved... and I,” she gasped, her chest heaving with the force of her sobs, Marie soothing her. “Mom, I can’t... I don’t... I...” 

“Shhhh, my darling. You’re losing it a little, deep breaths, come on.” She began to breathe in deeply, holding Emma’s eye contact, watching as she mirrored her and began to calm. It was an exercise she’d done with her since she was ten, to calm her panic attacks as a result of what Rocco routinely inflicted on her. “You wanna go someplace to talk, just you and me?”  

“Um, yeah. I gotta check with Lee first. And, well, there’s somebody I want you to meet.” Turning to the clubhouse, she smiled, beckoning with her hand. Guero walked over, returning the wide smile Marie greeted him with. God, Rocco had really been punching. She was in her early fifties, but still an absolute knockout. “Mom, this is my boyfriend, Guero.” 

“Oh, what a nice name,” Marie began, opening her arms. “I’m a hugger, you gotta bring it in, mister!”  

He laughed softly, obliging. “Good to meet you at last, Marie. She’s missed the hell outta you, you know.” 

“Very mutual! But mother Mary, I was so relieved she was safe. So, you been looking after her, huh?” 

“Yeah,” he nodded, wrapping an arm around Emma. “Always will, too.”  

Her smile was fond, reaching an elegantly manicured hand to stroke his cheek. “Mind if I steal her a while? I think we need to reconnect.” 

He shrugged, shaking his head. “No problem.” Emma kissed him, going over to Lee to both clear it with her, and introduce her mother and best friend, Lee a little stiff at being hugged, but polite all the same.  

They headed off in the rented white SUV, Marie turning the air con back up to full, bemoaning the heat.  

“Mom, this is nothing. You should try a summer here, holy Christ, it’s like hellfire!”  

Marie smiled, turning the car around to drive back out. “Remember that summer when you were thirteen, and Rocco had gone away to Atlantic City for a long weekend? You turned into a prune from the amount you were in the pool.”  

The memory warmed her, much like the sun had upon that beautiful July day, Emma remembering the taste of freedom as she gave Marie directions. “Left here. And yeah, yeah I remember it. You always tried so hard to give me little pieces of normalcy, in a situation that was anything but.” 

“Wish I could have done more, darling.” The sad smile widened when Emma reached to squeeze her arm, Marie’s hand covering it in a soft clasp, continuing through the streets until they reached the coffee shop. Parking the rental car up, they walked down to the location, Marie going in while Emma took a table outside.  

When she returned, she sat in silence for a few moments, tears filling her eyes as she reached to stroke her face in her hands. “Jesus and all the saints, look at you, my girl,” she gasped softly, marvelling at how well her daughter looked. “All tanned and happy, and these tattoos! My god! Are you going to have your entire arms covered, or just to the elbows?” 

She shrugged softly, turning her arm so Marie could examine the underside. “I’m not sure yet. I was considering getting something across my upper back, because I’ve been bitten by the tattoo bug well and truly. I know you always hated them, so I expect to get an earful of protesting.”  

Her eyes were kind, shaking her head softly. “Nope, Emsy. It’s your body, you do to it as you please. Just because it isn’t my thing, it doesn’t mean it can’t be yours, baby. Besides, they really suit you. Tell me about them, what’s this tree lady looking one here all about?” 

“She’s a dryad.” Emma began, before explaining to her all about the mythology behind it, Marie listening with interest. All the way through, she marvelled to herself at just how alight Emma looked, how she was seeing so much of her character sparked into life, the person she only ever revealed when it was the two of them alone.  

As for Emma, she was revealing the details of her job when suddenly, her voice quivered and she paused. “I’m sorry, I just... I can’t believe we’re back together. I thought I’d never see you again, and you’re right here. I love you, mom.” 

Marie fanned her face, taking a deep breath as her eyes swam with tears. “Love you too, Emsy. I can’t believe it either, darling girl. Look at us. We’re free.”  

“What’s your plan, going forward?” she asked, composing herself, taking a big sip of her coffee.  

Marie widened her eyes a little, pushing the crumbs from the brownie she’d eaten into a small pile upon the plate before her. “Play the part of the heartbroken widow after they find his remains, head back to New York, and put that damned prison he kept us in straight on the market. Too many memories, none of which I want to keep. It’s time to start afresh for us all, isn’t it?” 

Indeed, it was. In the months that followed, the plan devised by Vincent and the club ran its course with perfection, nobody any the wiser that Rocco Lombardi hadn’t been mauled by a bear after the scant pieces of his remains were recovered within the forest. With him gone, Emma was able to exist as a person, Marie was able to move on with her life, a life that included leaving New York behind for a fresh start.  

There was also one little part, or rather now not so little, that Emma could finally reconnect with, too.  

Driving up the tree lined street, Emma’s memory of the place bloomed into full colour, the memories from her childhood all coming back to her. She recognised the houses, some different, some exactly the same, her face breaking into full joy at seeing the huge guy who looked like a quarterback standing outside of the one that definitely hadn’t changed much.  

He looked just like their dad had at twenty-seven. 

Guero had literally only just braked when she flung the door open, jumping from the car and running up the bank of grass outside her grandparents' home, Dylan covering the ground just as quickly, his arms wide. It was an embrace twenty years in the coming, the siblings overjoyed to see one another again after so long, the emotions flooding out as they held one another, laughing and crying.  

“Oh my god, oh my god, look at you!” she cried, holding his face in her hands, stroking his tears with her thumbs. “You look just like dad.” 

He nodded, pulling her close again. “And you look just like mom.” Their hug was near unbreakable, Guero standing back and letting them reunite, leaning against the rental car with a smile. “Gran’s just getting her shoes on.” he then added, turning to see his tiny grandmother ambling as fast as she could, Emma sobbing as Bea held her arms wide.  

“Oh, sweetie pie!” she gasped, Emma falling into her soft hug with a sob. “I never thought I’d live to see the day! Welcome home, welcome home. Heavens, we missed you so much!”  

Dylan moved to assist their grandpa, Wilf waving his hand as he struck his walking cane into the ground. “Ahh, with your fussing, boy! I’m fine!” Reaching Emma, he suddenly stood straighter than his sore back had allowed him to in years, holding his arm out. “Give me some cuddles, babe. God, I missed ya!”  

Snuggling against her grandpa’s shoulder, she wept all over again, his lips pressing a kiss on her forehead. “We got her back, at last we got our gal home. I just wish your mom and pop could be here to see it, too.”  

All four of them stood in a loving huddle for what felt like a very long time, Emma finally calling Guero over to introduce him, where he was embraced just as warmly. They went inside, her grandpa immediately picking up his phone.  

“Family photo time! Now, where in the heck did I put my selfie stick?” He began to rummage, her grandmother rolling her eyes. “Bea! Where’d ya put it?” 

“He’s found Instagram and decided it’s his thing,” she explained, moving to reach behind the couch cushions and retrieve the errant selfie stick. “And he even does those tic-tac videos!” 

“That’s Tik Tok, gran,” Dylan softly corrected, giving Emma a nudge with his elbow. 

“Bah! I don’t know all this new aged, newfangled internet stuff! Disney Plus is about as up to date as I like to get. Now, everybody get in, come on, Guero, you too!”  

Five smiling faces were captured, a moment in time none of them would forget, a family reunited and joined by the person who had found the little lost bird, eventually returning her to the flock from where she’d came so many years before.  

The flock that now surrounded Emma was made up of three different groups, all of them her family, one born into, one taken into, and one found. Merging them was something she looked forward to, but with a little apprehension when introducing her family to the woman she called mom.  

Marie’s move from east to west coast had not been an easy decision to make, but with her only sister already out there and her parents sadly both passed, she had very little to remain on Staten Island for. She was also long done with the stigma of being a now deceased mafia bosses’ wife following her around. It was time for a change. 

It meant her children leaving the only place they’d called home and their friends behind, but her eldest was quick to remind her just how fast children adjust. Getting to run into the arms of the girl they’d thought to be their nanny, who Marie now said they should think of as their big sister definitely helped their relocation, though, when Emma met them at the airport upon their arrival.  

It would be a further three months before Emma’s flock all came together, Marie wanting to throw a housewarming dinner, inviting everyone she was close to from the club, as well as her grandparents and Dylan, plus his new girlfriend. Having explained everything that had happened to her, her family were not in the dark over the bond she and Marie had formed, yet nerves still riddled her as she paced the lounge area of the spacious Orange County abode, Guero right behind her, rubbing tension from her shoulders. 

“Why you bugging?”  

She halted, turning to rub her hands over his smooth arms. “I don’t know, I really don’t! I mean, gran and grandpa were fine about it all, Dylan too when I explained it all to them. I guess I’m just nervous about calling her mom in front of them, don’t wanna upset them or make them think I’ve forgotten Cassie mom when I never will.”  

It had been an emotional moment, back when Dylan had driven them out to the cemetery in Spokane so Emma could visit their parent’s final resting place, the siblings cuddling one another tightly as the elder had cried for all she’d lost.  

Guero was just about to reassure her that he didn’t think that would be the case at all when a call came from the front door, Emma seeing Marie moving to greet her guests in the form of her grandparents themselves. Walking over to do the same, she was presented with a truly heartwarming sight.  

“Beatrice, Wilfred, welcome to my home. I’m so delighted to have you both here,” Marie spoke cordially, offering her hand. Immediately, Bea shook her head. A nervous lump rose in Emma’s throat, for all of two seconds. 

“No, sweetie pie. We’re family, and family hug.” She watched Marie sink happily into the offered embrace looking like she was breathing a sigh of relief, her gran continuing. “Thank you for looking after our precious gal, doing what you could for her, being a mother to her. I’m so sorry for everything you went through because of that man, but I am so grateful to you for trying to make it better for Emma while she was there.”  

“Of course, of course,” Marie tremored, a million memories flashing through her mind’s eye. Secret cuddles, secret gifts, secret cake, secret love. She no longer had to hide any of it.  

Wilf beamed, opening his arms to her next. “You’re a good gal, Marie. I echo everything the wife just said, and this place you got here, holy moly! Is than one of those infinity pools you got out back there?” 

“It is,” she confirmed, kissing his cheek and moving to welcome Dylan and Evie, his girlfriend.  

“Well dang it, I should have brought my trunks, shown off this body of mine to all you ladies!” His joke had everyone in soft fits, Wilf flexing his non-existent biceps with a grin. “What are you laughing at, boy? I look better than you!” he then directed at Guero, who was as usual totally taken by the hilarity of his girlfriend’s grandfather. 

“That’s why I’m glad you didn’t bring the trunks, man. I can deal with that kind of competition.” His statement only provoked further laughter, Marie ushering them into the house to offer further introductions. Emma stood back with Guero to watch it all, this band of people all so different, from so many walks all life, all brought together because of her. Family. Her family. There they were.  

“What you thinking about?” Guero asked, wrapping his arms around her waist from behind, resting his cheek against hers as she leaned back into him.  

“Just how I’ve gotten everything I ever wanted at last. It doesn’t look like I thought it would, but that’s one hell of an amazing family I have right there in all those people.”  

He kissed her cheek with a smile. “You got a really amazing immediate one right here, too. You, me, and this little one.” As he stroked the small, rounded swell of her pregnant belly, she couldn’t agree more. Six months later, their first child joined them, a daughter.

They named her Cassie Marie.  

The End.  

[roboticspacecase]

BillDip promt:first date

Ahh an excuse to write fluff, yes >:3c

The last thing Dipper had expected when he was asked out by a handsome, seemingly normal guy on a dating app, was to end up gripping the passenger seat of a fancy sports car while his date stared down an empty parking lot.

"Don't you dare," Dipper laughed, gripping the seat tighter. "You just took me out to that nice restaurant and fed me all that pasta, and I don't think either of us want to see it again. Especially since this time it’ll be all over your dashboard."

Bill's intense gaze shifted from the pavement to Dipper, a large, smarmy grin on his face. "You saw how good of a driver I was when I got us from your place to the restaurant in that funky traffic jam. We made it on time for our reservation, didn't hit anyone or anything, and I didn't get pulled over!"

Dipper rolled his eyes, still smiling. During the two weeks that he and Bill spoke over messages, the blond had mentioned that he enjoyed doing things that, “got the heart pumping”. But Dipper had always thought that had been some sort of sexual joke, not that he actually wanted to fling his car around at high speeds the second they drove by an empty lot.

“How about we do a few donuts, then we park and give my poor stomach a chance to catch up with the night?” He leaned back in his seat, preparing himself for the ride. “I think I can handle at least a few.” Their night had been going well enough that Dipper would feel bad if he shut down Bill’s fun too quickly, so he didn’t mind putting up with more of the blond’s shenanigans.

Bill lit up, his baby blue eyes twinkling from the dim glow of his headlights. “Sounds good to me, Pine Tree!” He revved the engine a couple of times before shifting the car into gear and slamming his foot down on the gas.

The tires screeched as they whirled around the lamp posts and empty parking spots. The two of them got thrown around a bit with each turn, though both could be heard laughing over the sound of the rubber on pavement.

Thankfully, Bill stuck to only doing a few and came to an abrupt stop once they had made their mark on the lot.

“Bet you’ve never had a date end with something that exciting, huh?”

Dipper looked at Bill, a large smile on his face. “I dunno, one guy took me to see a movie then took me to a grocery store ‘cause he needed something and didn’t want to go back out again after dropping me off. So I guess you could say this is a close second.”

“Oh, so that’s how it’s going to be?” The blond put his car into park, then adjusted the seat so that it was lying all the way back. “Then I’ll just have to one-up him and take a nap right here and now so that I don’t have to sleep after dropping you off.”

As soon as Bill closed his eyes and pretended to fake snore, Dipper burst out laughing and nudged the blond’s arm. “As much as I like your commitment to making this a super fun date, I think it’s about time I let my poor stomach lie down.”

“Your poor stomach, huh?” Bill got up and laid himself over Dipper, reaching for the latch to lay his seat down at well.

It popped into place too suddenly for Dipper to keep up with, he and Bill both falling backwards in an awkward position, Bill right on his stomach.

“Fuck, sorry,” he laughed. “Didn’t mean to come onto you that hard, but hey, you’re laying down now! Your poor stomach can rest easy in my car.”

“Not with you on top of it,” Dipper grunted. He gave the blond a playful shove, not actually trying to get him off. “Maybe if we carefully get back to my place before it gets too late, we can both… I dunno, maybe let our stomachs settle together on my couch with something playing on the TV?” Pink filled his cheeks because he knew that sounded a lot like he was inviting Bill over to get laid. And he sort of was. If one thing led to another, then who was he to deny the flow of the date?

Bill sprung up and had his seat back to normal in no time, his hand on the gearshift. “I’m about to be the carefullest- No wait, the most careful? Whatever, we’re about to be so fucking safe but fast, so buckle up.”

“I never unbuckled, so I’m ready,” Dipper snorted, adjusting his seat so that he could sit up. The car moved again, this time at a much better speed, and Dipper couldn’t help but smile over at his date. It was no trip to the grocery store, but he had a feeling he and Bill would have plenty of other outings that would more than make up for it.

[mara-tevith-solo]

Sing a Little Song For Me

Photo not mine

Part 11 of the drabble set and we all know I wasn’t going to resist some Protective Quaritch

Warnings: Sexual harassment, angry Quaritch, Scoresby is an asshole, threatening behavior, derogatory pet names, fluff

Pairing: Colonel Miles Quaritch x Na’vi/Avatar named f!reader/OC   

Words: 781

Rated 18+

Taglist:  @rayurbay​ @tinyfairies​ @perseny​ @kimqueenofhell​ @blueberry-thrawn

Smack!

 I hissed at the stinging pain that erupted from my behind, flinching and whirling around to face the human stupid enough to spank me. "Move ya arse, sweet cheeks! You're in the way!" He called as he struck past, not even caring.

I hissed angrily, not caring that he was the Captain "What the fuck, man!" Z yelled after him, just as angry as I was, our comical mugs of coffee forgotten.

"Oh, get over it! It was just a cheeky pat!" He defended himself as he turned around, arms spread wide in feign innocence. I think that was the worst part, him not even thinking he was doing anything wrong. He kept walking backwards, not noticing the presence behind him, settled like a brick wall with his arms folded tightly over his chest, tail flicking everywhere at once, and a bone vaporizing scowl on his face "Ya can't expect a hot blooded Homo Sapien to not smack an arse that's in their face everyday, love! Just not the done thing!"

Right as the Captain turned around to continue on his way, Miles caught him by the suspenders of his waders and hauled him off his feet as though he weighed nothing, smiling that sadistic 'you done fucked up' smile that he was so fond of "I think you owe my wife something." His voice was too calm as he carried the Captain back to us, all the thunder flashing dangerously in his golden eyes as he set the Captain down not three feet in front of me.

"Y-your wife?" He stuttered a squeak, looking between our three angry faces quickly but never letting Miles's leave his peripherals.

"Don't make me repeat myself, Captain." Miles very nearly growled, his tail flicking more with his tempered aggravation.

"I-I'm sorry." Scoresby stuttered quickly, barely even looking at my knees before he was trying to scamper off.

Miles caught him by the head, his hand engulfing the top half of it and for a moment I thought that he was going to crush it "Apologize in a way that even I believe, Captain." His voice wasn't as calm as his patience began slipping, flashing his teeth and pinning his ears even though he was still smiling.

"I'm sorry, Mrs. Quaritch. I won't do it again." Scoresby spoke quickly, but seemingly sincerely, looking up at me from the sides of his eyes with all the fear in the universe. I nodded allowingly before looking up at Miles, raising a brow when he didn't immediately let the man go.

He had been watching and waiting for my reaction, studying my every micro-expression before nodding himself "Now, if I ever catch you, or one of the other humans assaulting or speaking lewdly about my wife, or the lovely Zdinarsk, ever again, I'm takin' it up with you. Understood?" Scoresby nodded quickly before being allowed to scamper off, Z leaving as well a moment later with a pat on my shoulder and warm smile.

"Mrs. Quaritch does have an undeniable ring to it." I hummed before slowly beginning to make my way to the observation deck.

"It does, don't it?" He hummed as the tension left his shoulders, returning him to the Miles I was the most fond of. "Maybe," He continued as we ducked through short and narrow passageways, slinking through bulkheads as we came to them "After all ah this is over and done with, we can think about making it official?" He was watching me so hopefully when I glanced back at him, clean ocean air finally meeting out noses as the final bulkhead came into view.

"Maybe." I smiled teasingly before practically vaulting up the stairs, only stopping to soak in the sun and the unrecycled air.

He stopped beside me after a moment, having actually walked up the steep stairs like a normal person "I've never been so excited by a maybe in my entire life." He chuckled as he settled in the sunlight beside me, his upper arm pressing lightly against mine.

"Not even when we were talking about maybe having more kids?" I poked, cracking a single eye open to watch his expression, not bothering to hide my shit eating grin.

He looked down at me with a crooked brow, eyes flashing with desire as he pressed into my side more "Close second." He conceded thickly, licking is lips as his focus shifted between my eye and my lips.

"Down boy." I teased with a giggle, closing my eye to soak up a bit more of the warm sunlight, enjoying how it made my bones feel.

"Yes, ma'am." He chuckled, still pressed against my side, but settling in his spot.    

[dampersandspoons]

Chapter 8 Posted! Here’s a little sneak-peek:

Spike made his way into Stevenson Hall, up the stairs to the second level and finally to Buffy’s door. He looked left and right to make sure he hadn’t been followed, and then helped himself inside thanks to Willow’s lingering invite.

He slammed the door, whirled around, and then jumped at the sight of a very naked, very wet slayer, dragging a brush through her damp locks.

“Spike!” Buffy shouted in surprise, hurriedly covering up her body. And then she froze.

“Uh…” Spike swallowed, allowing his eyes to eat up the sight of her incredibly tan thighs, the subtle curve of her hips, and the one nipple left exposed by her haphazard attempt at concealing her breasts.

Coherent sentences were not to be made. All he could manage to say was, “Nipple.”

“Get out!” she shrieked and threw her hairbrush at him.

It hit him in the temple so hard that he could finally think straight again, and he whirled around to face the door.

“I’m sorry! I have to hide! I didn’t mean to see your tits!” He looked over his shoulder and said respectfully, “They are lovely, though.”

She threw something else at him, and he dodged it before it made contact with his ass.

“Watch it, Slayer!”

She’d pressed him against the door in a flash, his hands twisted behind his back. The thought that she did all of that while naked was impressive. What was less impressive was the drawing of a chocolate milkshake she’d squished his cheek against. Further inspection of this godawful poster revealed that it displayed a variety of chocolate confections.

He was about to make fun of her terrible taste in home décor, but then she fumbled for the doorknob.

“Wait, wait, wait!” he pleaded. “I’ve been shot!”

“So? You’re about to be staked!”

“Listen,” he struggled to say with his mouth mashed against the door, “your boyfriend shot me! Look!”

“Can’t die from a bullet. Therefore, you are not my problem.”

He wriggled free from her grasp, put his hand over hers to keep her from twisting the doorknob, and resorted to begging.

“Buffy, three soldiers are right outside. If you throw me out, they’ll find me and take me back to that place! I need your help! Please! Please, Buffy. I’m using your actual name to appeal to your humanity and everything!”

There was a pause, then she sighed before putting him in a chokehold from behind.

“We both know that I’m naked right now.”

“Right.”

“And you are never, ever to see me naked.”

“Now, let’s be reasonable.”