#bob says hello has me sobbing again

[sugojosgf]

dont be mean to me, it turns me on !

﹒ shoko﹕☆ ﹟ fem · prns ㅤ࣭ ㅤׂ : ᯓ cw : cṉc , grōping , smōking , būrns , manıpulatiōn , bullyīng ! ﹐

why does the girl with the bob hate you so much ?

bully!shoko who first sees you in jjh as a new student wearing the skirt a little too high and the long sleeved turtleneck too tight over your body. she sees the way you giggle at gojo and geto, and something about their lingering gazes piss her off.

bully!shoko who's first interaction w you involves her blowing smoke on your face and cackling when you begin to cough, tears spilling out of your pretty eyes. "h-hello!" you try to muster despite the awful smell of cigarettes invading your personal space.

bully!shoko who trips you on the way to class, feet sticking out as she leans against her locker, expression unchanged. you fall face first on the ground, books scattering across the empty hallway. "ouch,,," you mumble, tears spilling out as you try to get up. what you don't notice is shoko fishing her phone out to take a quick picture of your ass, skirt ridden up to expose your pink frilly panties.

bully!shoko who corners you in the toilets as she pours warm coffee down your uniform and forces you to remove your top. she doesn't wait a second when she sees your unblemished skin, groping your tits. she laughs as you cry and pinches your nipples when you get too loud.

bully!shoko who gets you alone in a classroom and threatens to tell everyone you are sleeping with a teacher. your eyes widen with fear as you beg her, head nodding as you try to convince her that's not true, in fact - you are still a virgin. "awww, i find that hard to believe,,, why don't you bend over and let me see for myself?" the next minute she has you on the teacher's table, legs spread as she takes an embarrassingly long look at your pussy. her long fingers spread your lips apart as she inspects you closer, "sounds about right, this looks barely used."

bully!shoko who finds you at a halloween party, dressed as a nurse, the uniform way too short and way too tight. she laughs as she sees you, "knew im going to be a doctor, want to be my little assistant?" you shake your head but that doesn't stop her from shoving her tongue in your mouth away from the crowd, as you cry about 'a first kiss'.

bully!shoko who calls you right before you go to your classes to the back of the school just so she can use you as an ash tray as she smokes. she drags the cigarette and sighs as the smoke fills her lungs. you squirm as she holds you close, seated right on her lap. "stop fucking moving..." she says as she puts her cigarette out on your thigh. you sob as she does, skin burning. "need to put my mark on you, doll." she smiles at you lopsided.

bully!shoko who suddenly is your new roommate, you don't ask what happened to your old roommate and you don't question why she never shows up to school again. shoko looks at your fearful face with glee, "hey roomie!" she giggles before making you suck a dildo right in front of her as she plays with herself calling you her personal pornstar.

victim!you who lets her carry on w the dynamic despite having enough power to stop because hey, you were initially going to ask gojo if his friend w the bob was single.

[hummingbird-of-light]

Against All Odds

Part 817

McCoy

McCoy held Scotty close as he cried. He let out a soft sigh. He wished he could do more for his fiancé. Beside them Spock was quickly flipping through albums and sorting them into piles. McCoy watched as he rubbed what he hoped were soothing circles on Scotty’s back.

It took a few minutes, but when Spock began to pack one pile of albums back into the box, McCoy thought he had an idea of what the Vulcan was doing.

“That’s much smarter,” he said quietly.

“Emotions are not my strong suit,” Spock said quietly. “But this should be shared with ones who care the most, not smothered quietly in an unpleasant house.”

Scotty pulled back from McCoy to see what they were talking about. He wiped a hand across his eyes.

“Are there any others?” McCoy asked Spock.

“Without searching in every box, I don’t believe so.” He gestured at the room around them. “They appear to have been all put here.”

“I think it’s time to go,” McCoy said softly to Scotty. He stroked a hand across the back of his hair.

“But we’ve barely looked in any!” Scotty protested, another sob caught in his throat.

Spock shook his head. “I have flipped through all these quickly. The ones containing your family are in this box.”

“But we haven’t picked any to take!”

McCoy exchanged a glance with Spock.

“We’re taking them all,” McCoy said firmly. “The ones Spock has packed back up at least. We’ll make copies of the whole damn things if we need to. But you shouldn’t have to sit here like this. Your mom and Robbie and Granddad deserve to see them all too.”

Scotty just blinked at them in surprise for a moment. Then he flung his arms around McCoy again.

“Thank ye Len,” he said. “Ye too Spock.”

“Let’s get out of here,” McCoy said. “Rich people are such a pain in the ass.” He grinned as Scotty choked on a laugh.

They gave Scotty a moment to pull himself together, then Spock hefted the box of albums up and led the way to the attic door.

Scotty led the way and they made their way again to the living where Malcolm and Iona still sat.

“Did you find the albums?” Malcolm asked, turning as they heard the boys.

“Aye,” Scotty said. “Thank you.”

“Oh, a whole box,” Iona looked surprised.

“If you don’t mind,” McCoy began, “there are so many pictures to choose from; we thought it would be easiest to borrow the albums. Then Francine and Granddad and Robbie could help pick. Of course we’ll return them when we’ve finished.”

“Of course,” Iona said idly.

Malcolm blew out a breath. “Oh take them,” he said. “Keep them.” He gave them a tight smile. “They’ll be more important to you. They just sit in a box here.”

McCoy kept his face neutral but felt surprised.

“Oh. Thank you,” Scotty said. His voice had gone breathless.

“Think of it as a wedding gift,” Malcolm said. “As long as it's just the ones with your part of the family.”

How McCoy managed to keep from rolling his eyes he wasn’t sure. There was an awkward silence.

“We should be going,” McCoy finally said. “Francine will be home soon and it was a bit of a drive out here.”

“Yes,” Iona said, standing. “We’ll walk you out.”

Walking them out meant the front door and no further. McCoy kept his contempt to himself as he smiled politely.

“It was nice to meet you,” he said, shaking Malcolm’s hand and bobbing his head at Iona.

“Yes you too, your highness,” Malcolm agreed.

“You weren’t at all like they paint you on the news,” Iona said.

McCoy could hear the furious intake of breath from his fiancé.

“Say hello to Francine,” Malcolm said. “And tell Dad to call. Or come visit. He’s always welcome.”

“Sure,” Scotty said through a tight smile.

Spock had continued to the car with the box of photo albums.

As McCoy walked with Scotty they heard the door close before they had even finished descending the front stairs. He shook his head. Money and a country estate and no manners.

“You are never coming here again,” he whispered to Scotty.

“Ye don’t have to tell me!” Scotty grinned at him.

“If Leah and Robbie get married, I will personally make sure those two don’t get an invite,” McCoy said firmly.

“What truly unpleasant people,” Spock said as Scotty began the drive home.

McCoy glanced over his shoulder then burst into laughter. He saw Scotty grinning next to him.

“That’s putting it mildly,” McCoy agreed.

Part 818

Scotty

Although he had actually planned for them to stop by at his Uncle Ronan's place, Scotty decided to drive home instead.

He couldn't and didn't want to see any other outside family members that day. He just wanted to get home and find some nice pictures to hang up with Francine, Granddad and Robbie.

Scotty was still incredibly grateful that Leonard and Spock had helped him so much. Without them, he would probably have cut short his visit to Malcolm and Iona prematurely. Or he would have snapped with rage.

The boys entered the house and found Robbie and Jim in the kitchen. They were both cooking dinner once again.

Scotty and the others greeted them briefly before heading into the living room, where Alasdair was sitting in his armchair reading a book. He looked up when he saw the three of them.

"Oh, hello, there ye are again. Have ye paid everyone a visit?"

Scotty shook his head and sighed as he sat down on the couch. Leonard sat down next to him. Spock, who had once again carried the box with him, set it down on the floor and chose another armchair.

"We were just at Uncle Malcolm's. He says ye should call or visit again," Scotty said and Granddad smiled bitterly.

"Has he lost all his PADDs? He can get in touch too."

Scotty nodded.

"Aye. He could do that."

But he wouldn't. Malcolm expected everyone to come to him.

"I assume Malcolm and Iona treated ye well? After all, one of the nobility was present," Granddad grumbled and Leonard nodded.

"Oh, of course. But I think I made it clear to them which of us has more money," he grinned and Alasdair laughed.

"I should hope so, yer highness."

They were silent for a while before Granddad's gaze fell on the box. He brushed his hand over it.

"So he actually still had pictures?"

Scotty's gaze darkened.

"Aye. In the attic."

His eyes met Alasdair's and the old man smiled bitterly.

"Of course. Where else should he keep them?"

Scotty swallowed and he only turned his gaze away from Granddad when Leonard cleared his throat beside him.

"Um... may I ask why you hardly have any contact with your other children? Well... I can understand that Malcolm is hard to deal with, but..."

"My eldest son didn't feel it necessary to cut short his vacation on another planet to attend John's funeral."

Alasdair's voice was harsh and bitter, but Leonard knew well that the anger was not directed at him. His eyes widened in shock.

"He wasn't there?"

"He sent money as compensation," Scotty whispered. He had only been a small child, but he had heard the stories.

Leonard's hand clenched into a fist.

"What a bastard!"

Alasdair just nodded. Then he sighed.

"My other children... I tried to help them a lot, but they kept pulling away from me. After I decided to move in with Francine and help her raise the lads, they never forgave me. They always said that I didn't care about them. It... it's nae true. But at some point I just gave up."

Granddad looked incredibly sad and Scotty immediately felt sorry for him.

"It's not yer fault, a sheanair."

Alasdair just shrugged his shoulders.

"But maybe it is. Maybe I didn't do enough for them."

[a-small-batch-of-dragons]

Un/Certain Death

scuttles into your inbox hello there, might i request a bit of character A being Presumed Dead and then interrupting their own funeral? and maybe the other characters thinking its malicious magic and attack them (im a sucker for angst 🏃‍♂️) Maybe Merlin? but honestly any fandom would be cool here is a cookie! 🍪 – anon

Read on Ao3

Warnings: major character death/presumed death, people think Merlin's dead but he's not

Pairings: merthur, can be platonic or romantic you decide

Word Count: 2582

    The first time Merlin truly believes Arthur will kill him, he's knocked onto his back with a furious cry, a sword digging into his neck.

He coughs, spluttering against the steel. The breath knocks out of him. He can only gasp. Arthur's eyes bore into him. They're rimmed red and swollen. Spittle flies from his lips as he pants down, leaning more than enough weight on his sword to have the metal bite into Merlin's neck. Every inch of him is trembled, coiled rage, as though begging for a reason to follow through and plunge his sword through him.

Merlin can't look away. He can't look away for the life of him. What else can he do? The man he has sworn to protect, the man he would gladly die for, the other half of his soul, how can he look away?

His Adam's apple bobs against the steel as he swallows.

"A-Arthur?"

"Don't," Arthur snarls, shoving the tip under his chin, "don't you dare."

He shuts up, hands slowly raising on the ground to lie next to his head. He does his best to go limp, to show he won't fight this, even though his chest is screaming, he won't fight it, not if it's what Arthur truly wants. He holds back the tears—he will not cry, he will not die a crying man on Arthur's sword—and slowly, slowly, wills himself to accept it.

It's only ever been for you, Arthur, he tries to say with his surrender, only ever for you. I've only ever done it for you. All for you.

"You have some nerve," Arthur growls, spittle still spraying, "out of all the faces you could have chosen, this one I will not allow you."

"Kill him," someone else snarls, "for daring to do such a thing."

Merlin takes a deep breath and closes his eyes for he is a coward, he truly is, he can't watch Arthur kill him. He feels the sword shift, pressing against the soft part of his throat, and Arthur inhales like he's about to push true, but then—but then—

"I can't," murmurs the broken man above him and Merlin can't hold the tears anymore, not when Arthur sounds like that, "I can't do it."

"Then allow me," the voice from before says as a new shadow falls over him—and Merlin is not too proud to admit he is too cowardly enough to run from someone who isn't Arthur so he opens his eyes—

Gwaine.

"Sorcerer," Gwaine spits, and he has never seen such disgust on Gwaine's face, nor the righteous fury of any of the knights that flank their King, as the sword lifts high into the air, "you've made your last mistake."

"Please, wait, wait—" a coward, you were right, Arthur, I've only ever been a coward— "wait, I'll go, I'll go, you'll never see me again, please, just—"

"That's the most pathetic sorcerer I've ever seen," Percival says lowly as Elyan scoffs, "at least die like the man you pretend to be."

He scrabbles in the dirt, trying to put more distance between him and the furious knights he once thought his friends, but the tears betray him and he sobs instead. "No—no, please, I'm not—it was only ever for Camelot, please, I did it for the good of Camelot—"

"Nothing good can come from this!" Arthur roars, even as Lancelot—Lancelot—holds him back with a reluctance that feels like a blade all its own. "What good could come from this?"

"To protect you, Arthur, to—only for you."

Arthur laughs, a cruel and merciless thing, before stalking forward and gripping him by the hair. "You're an idiot—" the insult has never hurt so much— "if you really wanted to do what was best for Camelot, you should have saved him."

He points over his shoulder, toward where the knights had been gathered before Merlin happened upon them in the clearing and—well, this had started. The sword shifts just enough to allow Merlin to sit up, to peer over the knights to see—

Wait.

Wait.

"…what?"

Gwaine scoffs, shoving him back to the dirt. "Figures that someone like you can't see the value in every life," he spits, as Merlin tries to erase the image of his own dead body from his memory, "but that man was a better one than you'll ever be."

"Gwaine—Gwaine, it's me."

"You dare—"

Merlin dodges the sword, for he's not dead, he's not dead, maybe he can convince them of that, if nothing else— "You say you spend your nights in the tavern when really you spend them building fires for the children who live on the streets. You know—you know what it's like to spend a night in the cold and you said you never want a child to experience that on your watch."

Gwaine's eyes widen and his sword fumbles.

"It could be a trick," Elyan mutters, "a memory spell as well as a physical one."

"It's not a spell, I'm me—I'm me—you and Gwen used to play that you were outfitting all the knights that came to the tourneys because some of their armor was gross. Gwen said you once tried to get a law passed about it."

"Wha—how did you—I've never told the real Merlin that, you—"

"Gwen told me," he says desperately, "I was helping her clean the training swords and she told me—"

"Kill him," Percival says firmly, "kill him before he has a chance to poison our minds against each other."

Gwaine's expression hardens and he lifts the sword once more, ready to swing—

"Wait!"

Gwaine freezes. Arthur's hand held out stilled him, but Arthur won't even look in his direction. Instead, his shoulder heaves and he turns to look at Leon, the only knight not to have moved since Merlin first appeared.

"Check." He jerks his head. "Is it really him?"

Leon stoops, touching the other body for a second, before he stands and walks over, his red cloak billowing around him as he crouches above Merlin. Merlin stares at him, pleading, begging, hoping that Leon can see that he's not lying, it really is him, it is, just believe him, please—

A gloved hand takes his chin and Merlin tries not to flinch. Fingers tilt his head up, up, exposing the long line of his throat. A sudden burst of hope lets him tilt it back even more, without Leon's instruction. He knows what Leon's looking for; on one of his first days in Camelot, a cruel guard who hadn't been informed of his new status as Arthur's manservant caught him trying to enter the prince's chambers and yanked him back by a thin piece of cord he'd had tied around his neck to hold his room key. The man might have strangled him had Leon not seen and saved him. Since then, aside from Leon assuring him that no matter who was mistreating him, even the King himself, that he would find safety with the knight, there had been a small, almost imperceptible divot in the flesh right under his chin where the knot in the cord had been.

Impossible to see, only detectable if you ran your fingers over it, if you knew where it was.

Leon's fingers find the spot, as they always have, and for just a moment, Merlin thinks he feels Leon's hand shake.

The hand cups the back of his head, lowering it to a comfortable position once more, and the face of his friend smiles softly at him.

"Hello, Merlin," he says, and he believes him, he believes him, "what were you doing so far from camp?"

"Well," Merlin manages, slightly strangled, "I was just trying to collect firewood."

Arthur lets out a breath as Gwaine roars, throwing his sword to the ground and gathering Merlin into the fiercest hug he's ever experienced. "You moron," he breathes, a touch too shaky to be truly stern, "we could have killed you."

"What happened," he croaks as Lancelot flies at him too, "what—why—"

"We came back to find you—well, what we thought was you dead," Percival says, guilt coloring his features as he gestures to the corpse, "and we…didn't take it well."

"But you are alive," Lancelot says, cupping Merlin's face in his hands, "you are alive and well and that is all that matters now."

"I'm sorry we didn't believe you," Elyan says as the rest of the knights not-so-subtly vie for their own opportunity to hug him, "I'm glad you're alright."

"'Course he's alright, he's Merlin," Gwaine bluffs, finally letting Merlin go only for him to be promptly snatched up by the others, "right, Princess?"

Merlin looks over Percival's shoulder only to see Arthur still staring at the corpse. He shoulders the knights away and carefully walks up behind him, going to place a hand on his shoulder.

"Arthur, it's okay," he tries, "I'm not dead, I'm right here—"

"Why didn't you deny that you were a sorcerer?"

Merlin freezes. Arthur turns to look at him, eyes still cold.

"We accused you of having magic," he says, voice icy, "and you didn't deny it. You said it was for the good of Camelot."

"A-Arthur, I—"

A chorus of yells comes from the knights as Arthur points his sword at Merlin's chest. Merlin swallows, the hope crashing and destroying itself as Arthur glares at him, but he swallows and raises his hands once more, sinking to his knees.

"It's the truth," he mumbles, "it was only ever for you. I only used it to serve you."

"Why?"

"Because you are the Once and Future King who will unite the land of Albion. It is your destiny," he says, for it is the only truth he will ever accept, "and it is mine to see you there."

More steel sings as the knights must draw their swords too but Merlin holds up his hand.

"Don't, don't, please…if—if this is what he wants, don't."

"We just got you back," Lancelot says lowly, and he can hear him shifting his feet into a fighting stance, "and you want us to lose you all over again?"

"This is treason," Arthur says, but even he must know that his odds against all of the knights aren't good.

"I've been called much worse for doing the right thing before," says Gwaine, and oh, if it's not some relief that his steel isn't directed at Merlin anymore, but no, Arthur doesn't deserve it either, "this one won't hurt."

"Please, please, don't fight, don't," Merlin says, "I can—I'll just go—you can banish me, you'll never see me again, just please—"

"He's on his knees and yet he's not begging for himself," Elyan says, "and you think he's a danger to Camelot?"

"He's lied to us—"

"He's protected himself," Percival objects, "that's not foolish."

Arthur looks back at him and Merlin doesn't dare hope— "You lied to me. You lied to me, Merlin, you lied and you lied."

"Yes."

"Why?"

He swallows. "You've lost so much to magic. I didn't—I thought—I thought it was best you didn't lose this too."

"Haven't I?"

"You haven't," comes Leon's smooth voice, "Merlin is here, he is here now with us, he is right in front of you."

Arthur's hand trembles.

"If you kill him," he continues, despite the rustle of movement to signify just how little anyone else favors that outcome, "then you will lose him. And you will have lost him at your own hand."

Merlin stares at him. For the longest moment, Arthur only stares back.

Then something in his gaze hardens and he lifts the sword, and Merlin closes his eyes for he is a coward, and he will die a coward who believes in Arthur—

Thud.

He's…well, he's not dead.

He cracks one eye open warily to see his own head roll past, Arthur standing panting over the prone corpse. After a moment, it shimmers and becomes another face entirely; the brows thicken, the nose broadens, the chin widens. A stranger lies dead and decapitated on the forest floor as Arthur flings his sword aside and falls to his knees, wrapping his arms so tightly around him that he can barely breathe.

"I'm sorry," he whispers with near-feral desperation, "I'm so sorry, I had to be sure, I just had to be sure—"

"You—that was a test?"

"Only you would be fool enough to let me kill you," Arthur says in a rush, still clutching him, "you're alive, you're alive, you—oh, Merlin—"

"Wait, wait—" he can't keep up anymore, his head is spinning— "you—you knew?"

"Knew what?"

"I'm—that I have—"

"Yes, Merlin," and oh, never once did he think he would be so relieved to hear the exasperation in Arthur's voice, "of course I knew. You're not exactly good at hiding it."

A sob escapes him. "It's for you, all of it—"

"Oh, shut up." Arthur buries his nose in Merlin's neck and Merlin whimpers at how damp Arthur's cheeks are. "You're safe, Merlin, that's all that matters."

"You're damn right—" right, the knights— "that's all that matters."

"I take it that since all of you were willing to commit treason that you're going to keep this a secret?"

"Sire," Leon says grandly, "you could not stop us if we tried."

"Wonderful."

"Though if you try and kill him again, we will kill you," Gwaine says just as proudly.

Arthur scoffs wetly. "As if I would."

The ball of fear that had been growing and growing in Merlin's lungs suddenly pops and he starts sobbing desperately into Arthur's shoulder. He almost died, he could have died, he could have—he might have—

"Oh, you big petticoat," he hears Arthur mumble as he's gathered up like a child, "come here, you big crybaby…"

"It's alright, now," Leon murmurs as something soft covers the pair of them—cape, his tired mind supplies belatedly, "you're safe. You're safe now."

"Shh, shh," Arthur soothes as the knights begin to make work of clearing the campsite, running his hand up and down his back, "it's alright now, I'm here, you're here, I won't hurt you, I would never hurt you."

"A-Arthur—"

"Shh-shh-shh, don't try and speak, you'll only hurt yourself."

Merlin gives in, huddling into Arthur's chest as though he could burrow inside and live there. He clutches Arthur back just as tightly, trying in vain to steady his breathing.

"That's it," Arthur murmurs as it starts to work, eventually, "that's it, Merlin, you're alright now."

"I'm sorry," he gasps against Arthur's throat, "I'm so sorry."

"I know, Merlin, I know. Me too. I'm sorry too."

"I forgive you," for what else can he do?

"I forgive you too." The embrace tightens for half a moment before a hand ruffles his hair. "Now, come on, where's that firewood."

He huffs out a laugh. "Prat."

"Clotpole."

"Still my word."

"And it suits you perfectly." Yet as Arthur leans back, his expression sobers and he cups Merlin's cheek in his hand. "You know I could never truly hurt you, right? Never. Never. I'd sooner fall on my own sword."

The words ring with sincerity.

The first time Merlin truly believes Arthur would never kill him, he smiles.

[jimmyjrsmusoems]

i saw someone on tik tok ranking their top 10 bobs burgers songs and i wanna play too !!

my top 10 bobs burgers songs, ranked :

10. taffy butt (season 2, episode 1 “the belchies”)

this song is so iconic 😭 the belchies is also my #1 favorite episode, and i love tina and jimmy jr.‘s little dance in this end credits scene.

9. hot pants rain dance (season 7, episode 21 “paraders of the lost float”)

this song is just so fun and it makes me want to dance with them 😭

8. slumber party fashion show (season 4, episode 9 “slumber party”)

this song is stuck in my head 24/7. also whenever my fiancé or i buy new clothes we always say “fashion show, fashion show, fashion show at lunch!” from the office and this song reminds me of that lmao

7. i love you so much (it’s scary) (season 6, episode 3 “the hauntening”)

i am a boyz 4 now girlie 100% i would have eaten this song UP if i was tina lmao. also the end credits scene of them all singing and dancing is one of my favorites 😭

6. lucky ducks (the bobs burgers movie)

the first time i saw the movie and heard this song i was shoooook. it’s so good 😭 louise’s part always makes me tear up too lmao

5. my butt has a fever (the bobs burgers movie short)

this song!!!! is so cute!!!!!! i love it!!!!!! i watch this short over and over again sometimes because i love it so much lmao i would literally die for the belcher siblings

4. work hard or die trying, girl (season 5, episode 1 “work hard or die trying, girl”)

ICONIC. i quote this song all the time. “that’s exactly what people say before they make a baby i think!” “i’m hans gruber, consider yourself grubed” “i’m agent johnson, and i’m agent johnson, and we’re from the fbiiiii” it’s so cinematic

3. the right number of boys (season 9, episode 1 “just one of the boyz 4 now for now”)

OKAY if i’m not screaming along to this song it’s because i’m dead. that would be the only reason. this song literally makes me cry lmao. i was a “boy focused” girl like tina and this song made me feel so validated (even though i was eighteen when i first saw this episode lmao) also boo boo’s “i’m back!” is something i quote daily it’s so funny to me

2. sunny side up summer (the bobs burgers movie)

i am screaming crying throwing up every time i listen to this song. i will never ever forget the first time i saw the movie in theaters and burst into tears during this song lmao. every single part of it is perfect. i would play this song at my wedding AND my funeral. “but this summer i might see just who i turn out to be (just what we turn out to be)” makes me SOB

and you already knew what #1 would be if you’ve been following me for any amount of time

1. SKY KISSSSSSSSS (season 7, episode 9 “bob actually”)

HELLO??????

JIMMY JR KISSES TIIIIIIINA

LINDA KISSES BOOOOOOOOB

LOUISE KISSES RUUUUUUUDY

GENE KISSES A SPOOOOOOON

this song is perfection. my soul leaves my body every time i hear it. i am listening to it rn while i type this and i am floating to the goddamn ceiling. i am never not crying about this song. like. i would get this song tattooed on my body if i could

actual footage of me listening to sky kiss on repeat

anyway,,,,,ty for reading hope you had fun because i sure did

[joah-shipper]

I’ll Hold Your Hand

The Next Step | Eldon x Nick Hurt/Comfort

~~~

Eldon is sat in the studio’s office, finishing off on some paperwork. After the day he has had, he just need something to get his mind away for a few hours.

The past few months since his break-up with Thalia have been difficult enough, but he thought he was doing good at hiding his distress. Now with the news all out in the open though, he wonders how he even managed. Barely a minute has gone by this day without him crying.

With everything else tuned out, he doesn’t even notice the studio-head walking in until he speaks up.

‘Oh, hello Eldon. Didn’t know you were still here. Thought you would’ve gone home by now.’ Nick says from where he stands in the doorway.

‘Yeah, just thought I’d get these papers finished, as-well and go over the choreography for Anthony and Adele’s duet again. Internationals is coming up soon and everything, so…yeah…’ He shrugs.

The British man still stands by the door, watching his friend. He is unsure how to broach this. After getting back from his workshop from Absolute Dance, it didn’t take long for him to receive the news about what went down that day.

It’s obviously a touchy subject. However, Eldon is his friend and he wants to help.

‘I um…heard about what happened earlier.’

That stops the former a-trouper, pen cutting at the side of the page, now seeming even more lost in thought.

‘I’m sorry about what happened with Thalia.’ Nick continues as he takes a seat on the desk. ‘I know it can’t have been easy. Moxxie and I splitting up was difficult enough and we were only dating for a few months’

No new words escape Eldon. All his attempts just choke him, unable to escape and only making his adam’s-apple bob. This doesn’t go unnoticed by Nick.

Leaning over, he rests a hand on the one the contemporary dancer holds his pen. The other man doesn’t pull away, instead dropping the piece of stationery.

‘Do you want to talk about it?’

‘I’m not sure where I’d even start.’ Eldon sighs.

‘Try me.’

‘Okay then….’ Holding his hand in-front of his face, he lets a breath out into them. Then he starts. It’s a bit terrifying letting this all out, but maybe it can help.

‘It’s just, we’d been together for so long. Heck, we even got together on our own run—up to Internationals, 5 years ago! After being through a couple relationships that ended really badly before that, I thought Thalia was finally the one.’

The older man gives his hand a squeeze during this pause, pushing Eldon to continue.

‘We spent that entire year working to get together and it all felt worth it in the end. She felt like another half of me, someone that shared all my strange quirks, even if others found them weird. We worked so well together that we even began running our own studio!’

At this point, it is when his eyes wash over with water. His tongue flicks around his mouth, his saliva making noise. If Nick wasn’t there, he’s not sure how he’d be able to go on.

‘But…maybe I was too naive, we were only 17 and 18 when we got together and everyone knows teenage romance doesn’t last. When we finally grew up everything felt different, the honeymoon stage was over and both of us were filled with so much stress from work and now just being adults. There was no room for all the dates and moments we shared as teenagers and…’

He takes in a gulp. ‘We just kind of faded away from each-other.

By now he is sobbing. Nick feels like doing so too. From hearing Thalia and Eldon’s whole story, and just by seeing someone you care about hurting like this, it’s almost too much to bare. His arms wrap around Eldon without a second thought, pulling his face to his chest. He doesn’t care that the tears are sure to ruin his shirt.)

‘I’m not going to pretend that everything is going to magically be alright. Because it isn’t. Breakups always hurt, especially the long ones. You’re allowed to feel like this. Nobody is going to be mad at you for it. We’re all your friends and we understand you’re hurting.’

Eldon gasps out: ‘But, how am I ever going to get over it? I’m supposed to me helping the team, I’m supposed to be helping 𝐲𝐨𝐮! But, here I am crying like a baby instead!

‘Oh Eldon, you’ve already helped me more than enough. I wouldn’t be able to run this place at all right now if I didn’t have you with me. You’ve done so much for me, and as your friend, it’s my time to return the favour. I’ve got you okay?’ Nick breaths. His voice is so gentle, filled with so much love and care that it almost makes Eldon want to cry even harder.

His friend is now sat in his lap, arms around Eldon’s neck, but neither mention it. If anything, Eldon finds it comforting. He isn’t sure why, but he doesn’t want to stop any of this.

‘Okay, thanks Nick, for being here.’

‘I always will be.’

Both men smile at each-other, tears drying on the younger’s, in a still silence under the moonlight of the office.

[wilbdo]

Pt 2 of what we this is

Ariana rumble door

“OH NO!” screamed bob the builder at everything was set aflame. He looking over the sea of tears from the people around him, reflecting on his own.

His cried for, not the fire, not the people, but for the ravioli recipe he made. It was perfect. Nothing with perfect but this was perfect.

Bob felt his heartbeat fast, and the sound of his blood rushing in his ears. It was too much to bear 🐻.

Then, a portal spawns and neville longgbottom steps out, “come on! We have to go!” He cried over the raging fire of the ravioli .

He watched as Clifford the big red dog tried to fit in the small painting of Ariana rumbler door.

“You can’t fit!” Cried dizzy from bob’s side, “we have to leave without you!” She sobbed harder as big fat tears streamed down her scrunched up face, and down her chin.

He saw as the dogs big eyes got glassy as he nods his head, excepting his fate with the fire.

Bob turns back to the front of the small passing way everyone was in. He couldn’t understand, his brain wouldn’t let him understand the extent of the meaning behind his tears, glassy eyes, and cheeks.

As bob tries to step out of the portal, Neville stops him, “stay here! I’ll be back soon.”

As everyone stays planted where they are, the space begins to expand as Bob Ross steps out from a beautiful painting.

“I’m sorry I burnt your ravioli” he says with some of it in his hands, “I will bring back the one you have lost!” He says as he brings his arms up and begins to chant…

“Justice is rivalry, raviolis your life mates! Send apologies to the art of baseball! Ravioli! Ravioli god! If you hear me! TEND TO THY NEEDS!” he screams raising his hands full of ravioli up in the air. “NO LONGER BURT WITH PRIDE, THE BEAST IS UNKNOWN, BUT THE RAVIOLI IS HERE TO STAY!”

“THE RAVIOLI IS HERE TO STAY!” people started to chant

“THE RAVIOLI IS HERE TO STAY!” Screamed the loudest of all.. fix it Felix!

But as time gets closer to noon, dizzy is working harder to find a safe way back. She can’t let Bob know the truth she has hiding for so long. But then…

Neville came back with it, the prophecy! “Bob!” Neville cries “you’re the one! The one we need! The chosen one!”

Everyone gasps with surprise, excitement, and some with jealousy. All but dizzy, who is fuming.

“How dare you…” she says in a low voice, “I’ve been keeping that a secret!”

“But dizzy! You don’t know what the damage will be if no one knew! It would be unreversed!”

“I DONT CARE!” dizzy- wait no… her once short hair turns to golden and long, she becomes taller and.. Rapunzel?!

“I AM RAP U UNZIL! AND I DONT CARE!” she screamed. All of a sudden, she snapped and became Thanos!

“GOD! I SUMMON YOU!” he screamed

There was a bright flash of light the god came. “You called me child?”

‘Snap’

Everything goes black, Bob wakes up is a dark room. He tries to get up but he was held down by the chains on His ankles and wrists, presumably to keep him in his given place.

“Hello?!” He called bravely out to the dark room. There was not a sign of anyone. “Hello?!!” He called again to someone he hoped for to hear. Just as he was about to scream out a voice came.

It was dark and scruffy, it sounded almost like it has been rusted over by time. Out from the shadows came to the small candle light ballon boy.

“Give me your double A Batteries!” He yelled at bob walking around the chains bob was held by.

“I-I don’t have any!” Bob cried, it was too much! Everything and everyone was swimming in his head. He felt dizzy, but thinking about it only reminded him of his father.

Or… only he knows now is his father. He trusted Dizzy so much, SO much. And, I guess that’s how he played into her games.

How could he not know that he was the chosen one?! How did she know? But Bob was taken from his thoughts by the screams of balloon boy.

“I KNOW YOU HAVE SOME!”

“NO I DON-“

bob was never hear from again…

[americxn]

colin x reader! riding colin and then he gets a call and has to answer but ur a tease

You, dear anon, have impeccable taste.  wordcount: 1.9k warnings: riding, penetration, cockwarming kinda thing

Interrupted (Colin x female reader)

The shrill ringing of Colin’s phone cut through the breathy cacophony of your mingled moans, the device buzzing and vibrating on the hard surface of the bedside table it resided on.  The column of Colin’s throat bobbed as he swallowed, his head thrown back against the pillows and his breathing uneven. You slowed the movements of your hips, your slick thighs quivering as you leant forwards, palming his phone whilst laying a tender nip to the side of his neck. Handing the phone to Colin, he murmured an exasperated curse before holding the phone to his ear, trying in vain to calm his breathing. You sat back, his cock spearing slightly deeper into you as you did so, causing you to harshly suck your lower lip in between your teeth, biting down hard. “Hello?” Colin spoke casually down the phone after taking a vital second to regain his composure, though his voice trembled slightly as he addressed whoever was down the line. “Yes, this is he.”  You clenched the inner walls of your tender cunt, letting out a shaky exhale as it forced Colin’s thickness to press into the entirety of your slickness. He looked up, shooting you a warning glance before continuing to speak on the phone. 

You itched to continue to move on him, your hips rocking almost imperceptibly back and forth in order to try and gain some traction. Colin shot out his spare hand, gripping the top of your thigh in silent order to stop moving. But you couldn’t. You had both been so painfully close to release and now your high had receded due the interruption. His harsh grip on your thigh only fuelled your intense arousal and you whimpered softly as you picked yourself off his cock slightly, only to slide down its length once more. Colin shuddered, his eyes drifting closed at the movement. His grip on your flesh tightened to the point of pain when he shook his head tightly, clearing his throat before continuing to engage in conversation through his phone. You were tempted to snatch the damned thing from his and chuck it across the room, but instead opted for another experimental rise and fall on his cock, wanting nothing more than for Colin to buck his hips up into you as he had been doing before answering the phone, allowing his cock to plunge even deeper inside you. With a poorly repressed broken moan, you repeated the action slowly, drawing out the pleasure that the simple movement gave you. Below you, Colin’s eyes shuttered, his jaw clenching as he listened to whoever was talking on the phone whilst putting all of his might into ensuring that his own pleasure remained inaudible.  You clit pulsed steadily as you seated yourself fully back onto cock, reaching forwards to grip onto the collar of the shirt that you had unbuttoned to display the strong panes of his chest. Your need to touch him, to feel him, was indescribable and so you let your lips convey your desperation for him, kissing, nipping and licking along his collarbones, up his throat and to his chin. He emitted the smallest of groans when your teeth closed over the underside of his jaw, his head pressing further back into the pillows to give you better access to his soft skin as you sucked at the flesh you had clamped in your hold, releasing moments later to run your tongue over the small hurt. But still, Colin remained on the phone, his voice getting progressively higher and breathier with desire as you leaned in once more to trail your teeth and tongue to the other side of his jaw. “Yes, I’ll talk to him about it when I’m in the office tomorrow and call you back.” Your stomach leaped at his unsteadily spoken words, hopeful that the conversation was soon to be over. Colin’s sharp jaw bone was pronounced beneath your tongue as you trailed your lips across it, lingering to plant several soft bites and kisses to his skin. As you did so, you pushed your hips down, aware that you had slipped halfway off his cock in the process of leaning over his body.  He seemed to grow even harder as you did so if that was even possible, pressing into you with more persistence. This drew more wetness to flood from your filled cunt, pooling slightly at the base of his dick. You moved your lips to the shell of his ear, licking up its softness once before letting out a breathless moan, knowing exactly what it would do to him before walking your hands back down his body, slowly pushing yourself upright again. You sunk further onto him, your own head tipping back and your mouth parting slightly. Below you, Colin’s swallow was audible, his eyes now glued to your body as you trailed one of your hands down to your cunt, rubbing at your clit harshly as the other hand came to grapple with one of your tits, fondling the soft mound whilst you pleased yourself. Colin’s eyes were wholly dark as he watched this, his mouth going utterly dry as you let out a soft gasp, your eyes drifting closed. Your fingertips brushed against the very bottom of his shaft as you drew ever larger, harder circles onto your clit, drawing in a hissing breath. That small touch almost had him shooting his cum up into you. Colin adjusted himself, leaning forwards whilst propping himself up on one elbow and reaching forwards, batting away the hand that worked feverishly on your clit.  His eyes flicked up the yours as his fingers replaced where your hand had just been, muttering a casual “yes” of agreement into the phone as three of his fingertips came to rest on your clit, beginning to work in painfully slow circles. He knew just how much pressure to apply to have your eyes rolling and your body jolted slightly as his fingers drew even more pleasure from you. Unable to stop yourself, you once again began to rock back and forth on Colin’s cock, gasping when he brushed against that hidden spot deep within you that had your toes curling with each forward rock of your hips. Your other hand moved from where it entertained your tit, both hands raising to clamp over your own mouth as your pleasure mounted and mounted, a light sweat breaking out all over your febrile skin, a series of pants falling from your mouth and slipping through the barrier your fingers had made. “Yeah, of course. Well thanks for getting in touch with me. As I said, I’ll ring you tomorrow after I’ve spoken to him about it and let you know what he says... yeah, no problem. Okay, bye.” Colin’s phone was thrown to the floor within a second of hanging up, his hands coming to grab onto your hips. “You wanna fuck me so badly, huh?” He demanded through gritted teeth, his nails digging into the skin of your hips as you were finally allowed to resume your audible moans.  “Then go on. Fuck me. Fuck yourself on my cock until you can’t hold yourself up anymore.”  You whimpered at his roughly spoken words, merely being able to nod pitifully at his order as you picked yourself all the way off his cock before slamming yourself back down on it fully. Again and again and again. Colin fell back against the pillows as your ministrations began to draw deep moans and muttered encouragements from him, his eyes flicking between your ecstasy-twisted face and the bouncing of your tits as you fucked yourself furiously on his dick. “Colin.” His name was a drawn out sigh on your lips and it seemed to be a sort of unleashing for him, as he began to crash his hips up to meet yours, fucking you savagely with a force that drew all the breath from your lungs. A broken shriek fell from your parted lips, your chest heaving for a satisfying gulp of air as he rutted into you, the force of his upwards thrusts causing your body to bounce under his strength; you had to work in order to stop your body from being thrown off him. Crying out, you fell forwards onto Colin’s chest, your legs giving out as waves and waves of intense pleasure slammed into you, each ripple of euphoria bringing you closer and closer to release. “Colin, I -” You gasped when his hands fell onto your ass, holding your body to his and ensuring that you couldn’t maneuver so much as an inch away from his cock as he pounded you. “Look at me.” He growled, his nails scraping your soft skin as he trailed his hands up your spine, finding your hair and yanking your head back. With a bleated cry, you slid your pleasure-hooded eyes to his, Colin’s unusually rough treatment of your body both surprising you and turning you on immensely. Your body shook, tears welling in your eyes as the pleasure he was giving you had you almost reduced to sobs. “Are you gonna cum?” You nodded, his hands holding your hair tightly and forcing your head to tip back even further, fully exposing your throat to him. Colin hummed roughly at your response. “I’m gonna - I’m gonna cum, too. Your little pussy is gonna make me - ah... cum.” You blinked, trying to clear your blurring vision as you nodded, your mouth fully agape as you nodded, not being able to find the words to verbally encourage him to his own release.  Without warning, Colin slammed up into you, his swollen head hitting deep against your sensitive walls. That single thrust caused your eyes to roll, Colin’s own orgasm barrelling into you at the sight of the whites of your eyes, your pupils lost in pleasure. He released your hair as you moaned with abandon, his arms wrapping around your shoulder blades to pull your face onto his chest, his own pants and low groans filling your ear. Your body writhed soundlessly on his as he kept your orgasm prolonged by continuing to thrust into you, his cum shooting deep and being held within you, his seed hot as it coated your inner walls. Your fingers trembled as you grappled with the material of his shirt, needing to grip onto something in a futile attempt to ground your mind that was lost to abundant pleasure. Colin recovered before you did, murmuring encouragements as you quivered, trapped in the throes of the intense aftershocks of your orgasm, your knuckles white as you gripped onto his shirt. “Fuck.” You exhaled weakly, not even trying to lift your head as Colin chuckled, leaning to press kiss to the top of your head. “Are you alright?” You nodded into his chest, the energy needed to lift yourself off his cock evading you.  You fell silent, enjoying the warm security of Colin’s tight hold around your shoulders, the way your head rose and fell with his laboured breathing as he, too, worked to recover from the intensity of his own orgasm. Your eyes drifted closed. After several minutes, when you had finally recovered enough energy to consider shifting off his now limp dick, you cracked open an eye. “That phone call better have been damn important.” Colin’s responding laugh rumbled through you, causing you smile as you pushed yourself up, lifting a leg to dismount from him and engaging in the familiar race against gravity as you trotted for the bathroom, Colin’s cum threatening to spill down your thighs. 

taglist: @kitwalker02 @three-eyed-snail @forevercountess @kitwalkerangel @milly-louise @thecountessesglove @undeadcortez @kitwalker64 @samsassinparvismagna (if you wanna be added or removed just let me know <3)

[norestwithoutlove]

“If jimmy came back from the dead, what do you think he’d say when he finds out Dean and cas are together and have kids”

(i was asked this on twitter and shared there. but i know not all of you follow me there i thought i’d share on here too. this is how i answered)

sorry this one took a while to answer. i wanted time to think about it because i never even considered the thought before. a lot of people say to me "imagine if jimmy had never died in tbah" and kind of miss the point of the fic. like yeah, it’d be great. it’d be great if none of the people we loved had died. yeah, “imagine if jimmy had never died” misses the point - but this question doesn't. and i think it's what a lot of bereaved people wish for, anyway. just a chance to say everything, one last time.

  where to start.

  i think if jimmy came back for a day (and the thought makes me cry)... he'd knock on the door of the big white house. or they'd just find him sitting in his old armchair in the living room like nothing had happened at all. but something has happened, something massive and irreversible, so maybe him knocking on the door would fit better.

jack's probably the one to open it. he frowns and thinks he recognises the face smiling back at him, but it's older than he's ever seen it, and he's not so good with faces, so he's not sure. jimmy smiles and says hello, does castiel still live here?

and jack says “yes, why?”. jimmy still smiles. his smile is wider, warmer now. he says he's travelled very far. he says he's an old family friend. could he come in? it’s raining outside. it’s raining - and though jimmy stands under the porch, it’d be mean to leave him out in it. jack pulls open the door and says if jimmy is selling anything, they probably wont need it: they have everything they need in this house. jimmy smiles and says he's glad. he treads slowly down the hall, looking around him, like he's trying to savor it. he runs his finger along the crack in the mirror that has always been there, at least since jack arrived. he smiles to himself, but it’s a little sad.

he stops at a photo of dean and castiel playing on the tire swing they made when they were kids. his eyes pinch at their corners. jack says, “what are you smiling at?” jimmy says, i was there when that was taken. jack says “oh. that's my father”. and he points to castiel. jimmy turns to jack and smiles so wide tears wring out of his eyes. he asks, really? jack frowns and says “of course”. why would he lie about that? jimmy says, i hope he doesn't miss his own dad too much. jack says “sometimes he and dean get sad about it”. jimmy pauses. castiel and dean are friends? he asks. jack nods seriously. “best friends,” he answers. “everyone knows that.” jimmy takes a gentle hold of jack's shoulder and squeezes.

jack says “that's how dean squeezes my shoulder, too”. jimmy asks, you see him often? he asks it with a hopeful smile. jack nods with a frown, very serious. jimmy laughs and says, you know, you frown just like your father. funny thing, family resemblance. jack shrugs and says “maybe, but i was adopted”. 

jimmy falters. he blinks. he glances down the corridor again, and his eyes light on a different picture, taken decades after the one on the tire swing. he treads slowly towards it. jack follows after him, speaking. “i just think,” he frowns, and it's still castiel's frown, “if you really were close family friends with castiel, you'd know he adopted his children.” 

jimmy has stopped in front of the photograph and he stares at it, lips parted in a ghost-smile. family, friend. family, and a friend, jimmy corrects. that’s what i meant. i’m old family, and an old friend. jack watches him. “that's them on their wedding day,” he supplies. jimmy smiles. soft tears, tears like a gentle autumn rain, are on his cheeks, now. yes, he says, it is. a little late, considering, but maybe... he trails off. timed perfectly. a heavy footfall sounds on the stairs, a thunder to match the rain outside, and claire calls to jack, “dude, you said you'd get me a snack! it’s not rocket science! what’s the holdup?” but she stops short at the sight of the old man in the hall. claire's better with faces than jack. 

hello, jimmy smiles, but claire is already yelling for her dads.

it's a sunday afternoon. dean hadn't planned on being awake and active. he’d been napping while cas did a grocery run. but claire screaming to high heaven is a surefire way to set elanor into confusion. he groans and rolls out of bed, rubbing his eyes. he picks elanor up and carries her down the stairs in one arm. “claire,” he grumbles, “you know cas is out fuelling your damn addiction to lucky charms. what is it?”

he stops short at the foot of the stairs. his mouth is open and his eyes are glassy. elanor keeps asking “daddy are you okay? who’s that man?” and it takes dean a minute to stop staring before softly putting elanor down and telling her to go get her brother, jacob. “tell him there’s food in the kitchen, or something,” dean says, and jimmy hasn’t stopped staring or smiling warmly at him and his eyes are leaking autumn rain. “but there isn’t,” elanor says, and dean answers “so lie. there’s someone i—” but he can’t finish the sentence. and elanor shakes her head with serious disapproval and climbs back up the stairs.

dean steps toward him, trying to stammer out his name, but the tears strangle his voice and before he knows it he’s wrapped tight in jimmy’s arms, taller than him by far, now, but feeling eighteen again. feeling eighteen again and like he’s just finished yelling at jimmy that he doesn’t need a father, never needed a father, that he coped just fine without one, anyway. all of those things were lies when dean said them. he wants to say they were lies, wants to tell jimmy now that he needed a father, always needed a father, didn’t cope without one but that also, when he needed one most, jimmy was his father. he wants to say thank you. thank you, thank you, thank you for everything and sorry for every angry answer and scowl and bitter lie, please know dean didn’t mean them, he was just hurt and afraid. but jimmy already knows this. knew that, even then, and besides, the words won’t come. he just holds onto jimmy tight and thinks he probably did fall asleep in his bed and this is another one of those grief dreams, another one of those grief dreams that’s gonna throw him off for weeks but one he wants to savor forever.

he’s soaking jimmy’s shirt with tears. the guy smells like his old cologne. and blueberry pancakes. dean cries a little harder, afraid to let go.

“are you proud of me?”

it’s the first thing he’s managed to say to the old man. “are you proud of me?” he keeps asking, over and over again, and jimmy holds him tight and answers yes, yes, every time. yes.

and then cas comes home. cas comes home dripping from the rain from the walk to the front door and drops the damp brown paper bags onto the floor and apples roll onto the floor and he’s staring at his father and can’t speak, just like dean couldn’t speak, and can’t breathe. and jimmy is sat at the kitchen table with his grandchildren just like castiel mourned he would never be able to, and jacob is showing jimmy one of his paintings and elanor is holding his hand and claire has just made him a cup of tea, and jimmy smiles at castiel. “i see you got my last letter,” he says. and castiel steps into the kitchen and sobs that he’s sorry he never got to reply. and jimmy says that he’s sorry, too. cas shows him the little saplings they all planted for tu b'shevat, standing in a line on the windowsill. jimmy loved growing things. and cas asks how long jimmy has with them. when he’s going… back. to wherever ‘there’ is. 

and jimmy says he has until the rain stops. and castiel wishes it would rain forever, that all of kansas would be blanketed in it, a second flood, torrenting about the land, and them in their own ark, the big white house, bobbing about on the water, sharing food and stories and laughter and lost time, stolen time, time which was stolen from them. aren’t his and dean’s tears a substitute enough for rain when it stops, anyway? their tears are sure as rain in autumn, and not likely to ease soon. he wishes the rain would never stop. 

but it has to, eventually. all things do. no matter how blessed.

[nagitoandkokichioneshots]

Dance with me - Komaeda x Reader

Hey all, Peko here! Just a little thing i wrote about dancing with Komaeda on the beach. Not heaps of substance here or anything, i’ve just been a little stressed lately and wanted to write something cute and fluffy! I hope you enjoy it!  ☆〜 Mod Peko

Contains: gn reader, canon murder mention, post killing game, alcohol (only a little)

There is something deeply morbid about Togami’s decision to host a party in the same building he was murdered in. With the rest of the islands inaccessible until Souda manages to get a boat fixed, there aren’t many other venues available, but this fact doesn’t make standing in the old building any less uncomfortable.

Everyone is doing their best to keep the mood light, but anytime the air conditioner beeps the room turns icy. The table in the back right of the room has been disassembled and thrown into the dumpster behind the Rocketpunch Market, and despite the inconvenience, Hanamura decided to cook all of the food in the dining hall and cart it over instead of stepping back into the old kitchen. 

While he has been trying to have a good time, you caught Hinata bending down and checking under all of the tables before everyone had arrived. Since leaving the simulation, he had almost unintentionally asserted himself as the leader of the group. Shoulders square, back stiff, you can tell he hasn’t been sleeping.

You are standing by the wall, sipping absentmindedly on a gin and tonic with too much gin. It’s bitter. There’s a spot on the wall across from you that you can’t pull your eyes from, a spot that in a different reality was inhabited by Nagito Komaeda. Half a foot to the right of a powerpoint, nothing is plugged into it.

Komaeda is not at the party. He’s the only one who isn’t.

You down the rest of your drink and make your way over to the door, resting your empty glass on the nearest flat surface. Koizumi grabs you by the wrist before you can escape, her brows are drawn, “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.” You pause, “I just don’t like parties.”

That is partly true, Mioda’s playlist is very loud and you get headaches easily.

Koizumi sighs, “I know that it’s not simple, getting back to normal after everything that happened.” She rests a hand on your shoulder, “You can tell us if something is wrong.” 

Your eyes flit over to the Komaeda shaped absence on the wall, “I’m going to find Komaeda.”

“Oh?” Koizumi says, eyebrows jumping up, “Well...good luck.” She steps to the side and gestures for you to continue through the door, “It’ll be nice if you can convince him to come.”

You smile, “I’ll try.”

*

The real island is a lot warmer than the digital one was. Even at night you can feel the warmth of the absent sun seeping up through the pavement, it’s kind of weird being out this late. You had been so used to cowering inside your cabin the second the sun went down, but now things were safe. They were still awkward and messy, but they were safe. 

It doesn’t take you long to find Komaeda. He’s out on the beach, jacket laid out on the ground as he lays back on it and stares up at the stars. He turns his head when he hears you coming, it’s hard to be quiet on the sand.

“Oh, hello.” He says, “I’m sorry, I didn’t expect anyone to come by here. I hope I didn’t ruin your walk.” 

You join him on the sand, curling your arms around your knees and looking out at the ocean, “I came to find you. You didn’t ruin anything.” 

“Does Hinata need me for something?” 

“No...I just…” you sigh and bury your head in your knees, “I just wanted to check that you were okay…”

Komaeda laughs, tucking his arms behind his head. He looks beautiful in the moonlight, “Aha, that’s very kind of you, but there’s no reason to worry about me.”

“Yeah, well...I worry anyway.” 

The sound of the waves crashing is only slightly louder than the sound of the music from the party. The hotel is quite a ways away, but Mioda likes her music loud. Komaeda is still staring up at the sky, face neutral as he watches the stars, the light of the moon cross his pale face. You feel your stomach twisting.

Komaeda died before you could tell him you were in love with him. 

You turn from the ocean to watch the rise and fall of his chest, being given a second chance is both a blessing and a curse. Without the impending doom of the killing game, you are even less inclined to rush things, but the buzz of five gin and tonics is making your hands shake. You almost feel like you’re going to throw up when your mouth opens and you say, “you wanna dance?” 

Komaeda turns to you, “hm?”

“I uh...I asked if you wanted to dance?” 

He blinks, his eyelashes are very pretty, “Oh. Why would you want to dance with me?” He rolls onto his side to face you more easily, his hair is a perfect mess, “I’ve never tried before, I suspect I’ll be terrible at it.” 

You shrug, “it’s a party. Dancing is what you do at parties, right?”

The sand shifts beneath your feet as you pull yourself up, you hold your hand out, worried that it might be sweaty, “I haven’t really danced before either. We can figure it out together.”

His hand is...hesitant, as it reaches out to grab yours. You smile and gently tug him up from the ground, he sways like a palm tree in the breeze. Your heart is racing.

“So…” He starts, laughing a little to himself, “What do we do?”

You swallow, “Oh...well...I think you put one hand here-” you tug one of his hands down to the curve of your waist. Sucking in a breath at the warmth of his palm, “-and uh...i put a hand here-” you reach up and rest your hand on his shoulder, “and then we just...you know…” you take his other hand in yours and hold it up, gently swaying. 

(If you weren't so focussed on Komaeda. You might have noticed Mioda’s playlist has shifted to something softer, more romantic. Entirely out of character, and incredibly lucky.)

The steps are awkward, and entirely unpracticed, but it feels nice. The ocean air is cool on your skin, and Komaeda is warm. He’s staring down at you intently, trying his best to follow your poor imitation of a waltz. He smiles, “Are you sure you aren't the ultimate dancer?”

You laugh, “Very. You’re just lucky I haven't stepped on your toes.” 

Komaeda grins, “Extremely lucky.” 

The two of you continue swaying in silence for a while longer. Komaeda has a moment of boldness where he lifts up his arm and coaxes you into a spin, all you can do is smile. 

“Why didn't you come to the party?” You ask, looping your arm around the back of his neck, “It was...weird not having you there.”

He hums, brow drawing in thought, “It was fairly clear nobody wanted me to come. I didn't want to be a nuisance.”

“Well, i wanted you to come. So did Koizumi.” You sigh, “You’re one of us, Komaeda. It isn’t the same without you.”

Komaeda smiles sadly, averting his eyes, you can feel his confidence in the dance dropping, “I may have been a member of your class, and of the remnants of despair, but I still can't hold a candle to the hope inside any of you.”

He is so close to you now, you can feel his chest rising and falling. You can count his eyelashes. It’s impossible to breathe, “Hey...um…” 

“Yes?” 

You readjust the grip of your hands, slipping your fingers between his, you can see his throat bob. Your heart is racing, “I think you are just as important as the rest of us, that you belong with the rest of us.” you smile up at him, feeling your cheeks turning pink, “and I like dancing with you.”

“I’m not sure why.” He replies, eyes cast downward.

You laugh gently, feeling bolder as you lean in and rest your head on his chest. He smells like fresh laundry and jasmine. You can hear his heartbeat quicken, but yours is even faster, “because I like you.” 

He stops moving, the dance pauses mid step. His hands are shaking. 

You raise your head to meet his eyes, your hand slowly tangling in his hair. His arm slowly curling around your waist, “what’s happening…?” He whispers, you can feel his breath on your face. 

“I think we’re going to kiss.” You swallow, “I mean...if you want to.” 

“I...of course I want to.” His hand releases yours, lifting up to cup your cheek, thumb brushing over your lower lip, “but you’re so amazing, I don’t understand why you-“ 

He’s cut off, you grab the front of his shirt and tug his lips down to yours before he can continue into a self-deprecating spiral. For a moment he is frozen still, but your heart warms like butter when he moans into your mouth and kisses you back in earnest. His hand burying into your hair. He feels perfect.

He’s breathing heavy when you pull away, pressing his forehead against yours, “you...love me?” 

You smile, warm tears rolling down your cheeks, “yes, I have for a long time.”

Komaeda laughs, but it almost sounds like a sob, “I’ve...I’ve always wanted someone to love me...I didn’t think...I couldn’t…” 

“Shh.” You whisper, standing up on your toes to kiss his temple, “do you want to go back to the party?”

He smiles and links his fingers with yours again, “Can we stay like this a little bit longer?”

You can't help but grin as you slip back into the abandoned dance, spinning and twirling, slowly and messily. You press your lips to his, “As long as you want to.”

[lemontwst]

Hello! May I please request headcanons of Floyd, Azul and Silver getting the succ from their s/o?

baby i hope you don’t mind me doing malleus instead of azul for now!! i got the same kind of request for him alongside leona and riddle, so i’ll be posting his part later i promise!!!

𝓢𝓲𝓵𝓿𝓮𝓻

A precious boy whose heart starts to flutter whenever you unbuckle his belt. Cheeks tinged with the faintest blush, he obediently lets you grab his hips or spread his legs, his lazy body pliable under your ministrations as he starts breathing a little harder, already picturing your tongue running up and down his hard shaft like it’s something delicious. If you look up at him with his cock in your mouth, Silver will stubbornly try to avoid your eyes, but he can’t help but look back every now and then as he moans and gasps very quietly, too shy to admit he loves the view, but too excited to miss out on it.

He’s a pretty vanilla guy, but it’s the sort of vanilla that follows along with whatever you want to do. He won’t treat you roughly or try to choke you with his dick unless you ask him to, and even then he’ll be reluctant to hurt you. But if you manage to really turn him on, keeping up a relentless pace as your head bobs up and down his cock, faster and faster until you start to hear his moans get louder and dirtier, Silver will dig his fingers into your shoulders, his hips desperately bucking up into you without him being able to step them. He’s the type who gets bolder and more audacious the longer you stimulate him.

Loves waking up to you sucking his dick, you got him addicted to it. He’s into somnophilia in general, so waking up to the feeling of your warm, wet mouth around his cock is by far the best way to wake up as far as he’s concerned. You sometimes wonder if he’s just pretending to sleep because he wants a blowjob but he’s too polite to ask for one. Spoiler alert! He absolutely is.

𝓕𝓵𝓸𝔂𝓭 𝓛𝓮𝓮𝓬𝓱

Making you suck him off is Floyd’s favorite way to pass the time, and definitely one of the best things about being above water! Your eel boyfriend loves the feeling of control that seeing you kneel in front of him gives him; you look even smaller than usual, cutely tucked against his crotch as your mouth strains around the size of his dick. But just because you’re an adorable little shrimp it doesn’t mean Floyd is going to hold back— you knew exactly what you were signing up for when you decided to take his dick in your mouth.

He wants to cum all over your face and he’s not going to be gentle about it. His hand rests casually against the back of your head as he tells you exactly what to do and when to do it, but even if you listen to him like a good little pet, Floyd will roughly push your head down onto his cock with no warning, letting out a deranged little giggle as he tells you that he’s gonna show you how to do it~. He has the filthiest mouth, and the condescending way he praises you will have you twitching and touching yourself for some sort of relief.

The messier you are, the more he likes it. Make a show of drenching his dick in saliva and you’’ll have him throbbing and itching to fuck you in no time. If you’re sucking him off when he’s in his true form, Floyd loves it when you pay special attention to the sensitive nubs that make up the texture of his peculiar cock; suck them gently or circle around them with your cute little tongue and your eel boy will practically purr and melt under you.

He’s not patient at all. Don’t play that game with Floyd (or Jade, for that matter) because he will torture your perverted body with his long tongue and sharp teeth until you’re a sobbing mess who only knows how to say I’m sorry. If you try to tease him when he’s in a good mood, he’ll start to urgently buck up into you, complaining like a spoiled child. If you do it when he’s pissed off, Floyd has no problem keeping your head trapped against his crotch as he fucks your face like you’re nothing more than a onahole created to be abused by his dick.

𝓜𝓪𝓵𝓵𝓮𝓾𝓼 𝓓𝓻𝓪𝓬𝓸𝓷𝓲𝓪

Giving Malleus a blowjob is always this nerve-wracking, erotically charged experience. He has a...thing...for watching your face closely when you're being intimate with each other. He loves how you can make so many interesting expressions (so different from him…), loves watching you unravel and squirm as he satisfies you completely. So it comes as no surprise that Malleus is always looking for eye contact when he stuffs your pretty mouth full off cock. He basically orders you to look into his glowing emerald irises as you drool all over his member, your hand rubbing the part of his long, girthy dick that doesn’t fit in your mouth. 

He can be both caring and rough, depending on your behavior. If you’re being an obedient little thing for him, Malleus will praise you with a loving tone of voice that feels just a little patronizing, brushing his hand from the top of your head down to your neck as he pets you like a cat. But as much as he likes it when you listen to him so well, he also gets plenty excited whenever you’re being a little brat. Because that’s the best time to train you.

The size difference between the two of you is so absurd, it’s only natural he’d have to teach you how to properly service his cock. The second he notices you’re purposefully denying him his orgasm, Malleus will grace you with an amused ‘ooh?−’ before placing a heavy hand on your head.

...And then you’ll find yourself choking with his dick lodged deep in your throat. It’s a fast movement, it lasts no more than a split second before he’s pulling you up, allowing you to enjoy a single, terrifying moment to cough and gasp before he pushes you back down, this time a little farther on his dick than before. And again. And again. The feeling of your throat constricting around him makes Malleus sigh with pleasure. All of you is so tiny! He always has to keep himself in check or else he will come embarrassingly fast when your little holes squeeze him so tight. Thankfully he has an amazing self-control. Which unfortunately for you, means that he’ll be using you as a cocksleeve for quite a while before he’s satisfied.

[thelastspeecher]

Trouble in Paradise

Yes, even more Marriage of Convenience AU content!  This time, Ford’s lovely wife finally makes an appearance!

Once again, thank you to the folks on the Discord who have been helping me with the development of this AU, y’all rock something fierce.  c:

——————————————————————————————

              The front door opened.

              “What are we doin’ fer dinner?” a woman asked as she stepped inside.  She looked over.  Her mouth fell open in a small “o”.  “I get the feelin’ that ain’t the question I should be askin’,” she said slowly.  Stan raised an eyebrow at her thick southern accent. Orion and Iris, who had been playing with Stan and Ford on the floor, both got to their feet and toddled to the woman.

              “Mama!” Iris squealed happily.  The woman crouched down to embrace Orion and Iris.

              “Hello, my babies,” she cooed, stroking their hair. “Did yer Daddy take good care of you today?”

              “No, their Uncle Stan did,” Ford corrected tartly. The woman looked up, confused. “You mistook my twin for me and sent him to our home.”

              “I…”

              “Angie, do you have any clue how dangerous that is?” Ford demanded, getting up and stomping over to his wife.  Orion and Iris scampered to Stan as Angie straightened. “You sent a stranger here. Where our children were.”

              “Clearly, he’s not a stranger, if he’s yer twin,” Angie snapped.

              “He’s a stranger to you!”

              “It worked out, didn’t it?”

              “I know you’re smarter than this!  You have to understand why your actions were foolish!”

              “You were home, right?  It was fine!”

              “No, I wasn’t home!”

              “You-”

              “I had to work today.”

              “You were still sleeping when I left.  I thought that meant-”

              “Oh, god forbid I sleep in on the one day I don’t teach until the afternoon!” Ford shouted, throwing his arms up in the air. “It’s not like I stayed up late grading papers or anything!”

              “Forgive me fer assumin’ that ya wouldn’t leave our children home alone!” Angie screamed.  Stan grimaced, growing increasingly uncomfortable.

              “You didn’t check with me before you left to make sure I was watching the kids!”

              “I thought you wanted yer sleep!” Angie shouted. Orion and Iris buried their faces in Stan’s shirt, whimpering.

              Okay, that’s enough.

              “Both of you, shut the hell up,” Stan hissed fiercely.  Ford and Angie glared at him.  “Unless you wanna keep fighting in front of your kids.”  Ford’s face went slack.  Angie covered her mouth in horror.

              “Oh, no,” she whispered.  “I didn’t- I didn’t mean to.”  She walked over to Stan and knelt next to him.  “Sweeties, it’s okay.”  Iris let go of Stan to latch onto her mother.  “I’m sorry Mama and Daddy were loud ‘n angry.  It’s okay, it’s okay.”  Ford crouched next to Stan as well and held out his arms.  Orion toddled over to him.  Ford embraced his son tightly.

              “It’s okay, Orion.  Everything’s fine,” Ford whispered.  He kissed the top of Orion’s head.

              “I can’t believe we fought in front of the kids,” Angie said in a quavering voice.

              “They’ll be fine.  Kids are pretty tough,” Stan said with a shrug.  Angie sat down and looked at him.  Her eyes were a bright blue, just like Orion’s.

              “I take it yer my brother-in-law.”

              “Yep.  Name’s Stan.”

              “I’m aware.”  Angie looked at Ford.  “Stanford told me ‘bout ya a few times ‘fore ya ran away.”

              “And your name’s Angie, right?”

              “Correct,” Angie said with a nod.  Her caramel-colored hair, cut into a short bob, danced from the movement.  Like Ford, she was dressed professionally, wearing slacks, a blouse, and a cardigan. “Thank you fer watchin’ our children today.”

              “Not a problem.  I like kids.  Always have.” Stan grinned at Angie.  “By the way, no offense to Ford, but you’re way outta his league.”  Ford sighed. Angie blinked in surprise.  A faint flush spread across her cheeks.

              “Ah, uh, thank you?” she stammered.

              “Stanley, please don’t hit on my wife,” Ford said wearily.

              “Fine.”  Stan looked at Orion and Iris, then at Angie.  Both the children had inherited Ford’s thick, ruddy nose, rather than Angie’s long, thin one.  “Maybe your third kid will have your nose, Angie.”  Angie’s eyes widened.  She glared at Ford, who held his hands up defensively.

              “I didn’t say anything, Angie, Stanley just likes to tease me.”

              “Hmph.”  Angie carefully deposited Iris in Stan’s lap and stood.  She brushed off her slacks.  “I reckon Stanford didn’t make dinner.”

              “I was busy catching up with my long-lost twin.”

              “I see.”  Angie sighed.  “I’ll try to whip somethin’ up.  In the meantime, Stanley, I’d like to repay ya fer watchin’ the kids today.”

              “When I was checking out the place, I saw a guest room,” Stan said idly.  “It’s got a nice, big bed.”  Angie managed a small smile.

              “Would ya care to stay the night?” she asked.

              “Well, since you offered, I can’t exactly turn it down,” Stan replied.  Angie laughed, a sound that made Stan’s stomach somersault.

              “I like yer sense of humor.”  She walked away.  In a few moments, the clattering of pots and pans sounded.

              “Yeah,” Stan said.  He looked at Ford.  “You really married up, Sixer.  She’s too good for you.”  He expected Ford to respond with bluster and frustration, but to his surprise, Ford merely sighed.

              “Yes,” he said softly.  “She is.”

-----

              “Yeesh.”  Stan grimaced at the apple juice that had spilled all over Orion.  “Guess the lid wasn’t on tight enough, huh?”  Orion giggled.  “Hey, Ford?”

              “Yes?” Ford called from the kitchen where he was making dinner.

              “Orion spilled his juice on him, so I’m gonna change his clothes.”

              “Okay, but be sure to use clothes from the dresser by his crib, not the one by Iris’s.”

              “You got it.”  Stan picked his nephew up and brought him down the hall.  It was his fourth day at Ford and Angie’s, and he was already considering just moving in.  He liked the consistency of things.  Ford and Angie woke up, took care of the kids, then went to work, leaving Stan to watch the kids.  In the evening, they had dinner, put the kids in bed, and then went to bed themselves.

              Having a proper roof over my head is pretty nice, too. I’ve been living in the Stanleymobile for way too long.  Stan pushed open the door to the nursery.  He set Orion on the floor and went to the dresser Ford had told him to use.

              “And…nothing,” Stan muttered after he had pulled open every drawer, only to find it completely empty.  “Hmm.”  Stan looked at Orion.  “It’s too cold to let you walk around in your diaper.”  He crouched down and winked at his nephew.  “I’ll get you one of your sister’s things, okay?  Don’t tell your Dada.”  Orion giggled and stuck his fist into his mouth.

              Stan grabbed a soft onesie from Iris’s dresser and brought it over to Orion.

              “Don’t fight me on this,” he instructed his nephew. He removed Orion’s onesie and carefully zipped on the fresh one.  “There! All done!”  Orion fussed loudly.  “What’s wrong?”  Orion began to wail at the top of his lungs.

              Shit!

              “Aw, it’s okay, Orion, it’s okay,” Stan said in a soothing tone, holding Orion close.  Orion thrashed in his arms, continuing to cry.  “C’mon, kid.”

              “No!  No!” Orion screamed.  He squirmed desperately.  “No!”

              “Hey, hey, you don’t gotta be so upset!”

              “No!”

              “Stanley, what in the world is going on?”  Stan spun around.  Ford stood in the doorway of the nursery.

              “I put him in new clothes and he lost his mind.”

              “Did you dress him in clothes from his dresser?”

              “No, but-”

              “Damn you, Stanley,” Ford hissed, snatching Orion from him.  Ford quickly unzipped the onesie, pulled it off Orion, and threw it onto the floor. “It’s okay, Orion.”  Ford gently rocked Orion until his sobs quieted to hiccups. “He can’t wear his sister’s clothes,” Ford whispered.

              “Why?  He’s not exactly macho.”

              “It has nothing to do with gender, it has to do with tactile sensitivity.”

              “Huh?”

              “Orion is extremely sensitive to certain fabrics. He can only wear clothing made of certain material.  Even then, he has to be awake.  He won’t fall asleep if he’s wearing anything more than his diaper.”

              “…Oh.”  Guilt began to spread throughout Stan.  “Well, why didn’t you tell me?”

              “I did!”

              “You told me what not to do.  You didn’t tell me why,” Stan said.  Ford scowled.

              “I shouldn’t have to explain myself when it comes to matters involving my children.  I’m their father.  I know their needs best.”

              “Yeah, yeah, whatever, fine.”  Stan crossed his arms.  “I’ll only dress him in his clothes, then.”

              “Good.”  Ford carried Orion over to his crib and carefully set him down inside.  “He tired himself out from crying.  I hope it doesn’t throw off his schedule much.” Ford sighed.  “I need to get back to the kitchen.  Please watch over Iris until Angie comes home.”

              “You got it.”  Stan followed Ford out of the nursery, but veered into the living room instead of the kitchen.  Iris stood in the playpen, pouting at Stan.  “Hey there, sunshine.”

              “Unc,” Iris said in a tone that made it clear she was disappointed with him.  Stan laughed.

              “You sound just like your dad when you talk like that, you know.”

              “Unc.”

              “All right, all right.”  Stan lifted Iris from the playpen.  “I’ll rescue you from the baby jail.”  The front door opened.  Angie walked in.  “Hey, Ang.”

              “Stan,” Angie said with a nod.  She beamed at Iris.  “There’s my lil rainbow!”  Iris squealed happily.

              “Mama!”

              “I sure am,” Angie gushed.  Stan handed Iris over to her.  “Where’s Orion?”

              “In his crib.”

              “Already?”

              “He had a bit of a meltdown and wore himself out,” Stan explained.

              “Oh no.  Do ya know why?”

              “According to Ford, it’s ‘cause I put him in the wrong clothes.”

              “Ah.”  Angie nodded sagely.  “That’d do it.”

              “Really?”

              “Oh, yes.  He’s a sensitive little boy.”  Angie smiled. “But at least ya know now and ya won’t dress him wrong next time.”

              “Yeah…”  Stan stuffed his hands into his pockets.  “Look, Ang, I gotta ask you something.”

              “Shoot.”

              “Isn’t- isn’t it kinda coddling Orion?” Stan asked. Angie frowned.  “He should just deal with wearing clothes he’s not comfortable in.  That’s how life works.”

              “Stanley, Orion ain’t even two yet,” Angie said patiently.  “He’s supposed to be coddled.”

              “Well, yeah, but-”

              “When he gets older, if it’s still a problem, we’ll address it, try to ease him into other clothes.  But right now, he’s too little to understand what’s goin’ on. All he knows is that he’s uncomfortable, in pain, even.”

              “Fair enough,” Stan mumbled.  He looked down at his feet.

              “Stanley.”  Stan looked up.  Angie was watching him, not with sympathy, but with empathy.  “I understand.”

              “You do?”

              “Yes.”  Angie took a seat on the couch.  Stan sat down next to her.  “Stanford told me ‘bout how yer father was very into tough love.”

              “Yeah, he was.”

              “That was somethin’ I was worried ‘bout.  I was worried Stanford might slip into similar ways of parentin’.  But he didn’t.  He told me that the second he held Orion and Iris, he knew he couldn’t be harsh or tough on ‘em.”  Angie played with Iris’s six-fingered hands, her eyes soft.  “I understand that ya have that same instinctive urge to do as ya were raised.  But trust us when we say we know what we’re doin’, okay?”

              “…Okay.”

              “Good.”  Angie smiled at him.  “‘Cause Stanford ‘n I have been talkin’, and we think that, if yer willin’, we’d like to hire ya as a live-in nanny fer Orion and Iris.”

              “Huh?”

              “We’d pay ya and let ya stay in the guest room.” A twinkle appeared in her eye. “But only if ya do what we tell ya.”

              “Why?”

              “The kids love ya.  We need childcare, you need a job.”  Angie shrugged.  “Seems like a win-win sit’ation.”

              “You know I’m unemployed.”

              “Oh, sugar cube.”  Angie put a hand on Stan’s shoulder.  “We know ya ain’t just unemployed, we know yer homeless.”

              “…Great.”

              “But if ya take us up on this offer, ya won’t be.”

              Good point.

              “I’ll think about it,” Stan said after a moment, wanting to avoid seeming too eager.  Angie nodded.

              “Good.”  Crying sounded from down the hall.  Angie sighed. “I better go check on Orion.”  She handed Iris to Stan, then kissed his cheek. Stan watched her walk away, warmth spreading across his face.

[bookishofalder]

Emergency Contact

Requested by: @beccaaurora 💜

‘One where Flip Zimmerman x reader get into a big fight and don’t talk for awhile . But then the reader gets a call that something happened to Flip cause the reader is still his emergency contact.’

Warnings: Language, angst, gunshot wound, hospital.

A/N: Thank you so much for the request! This was fun to write, I love a good argument that makes the audience go ‘wtf JUST SAY WHAT YOU FEEL’!

You had been having an excellent dream about being a contestant on The Price is Right. You were spinning the wheel and Bob Barker was telling you to say hi to your family back home when the beeping from the wheel turning morphed into a shrill ringing.

Your phone was ringing, and it pulled you rudely from your dream. Now you’d never know if you were going to win.

Sighing, you rolled over and reached for the phone, squinting at the alarm clock. It was four in the morning. Fucking four am? Whoever was on the line better be dead, you thought miserably, pulling the receiver to your ear.

“Hello?”

“Hello, is this Miss. (Y/F/N) speaking?” An efficient voice spoke down the line, and you frowned. You didn’t recognize the woman at all.

“This is she.” You replied, sitting up and flicking on your lamp. Concern already growing as you woke up.

“This is nurse Greer over at Colorado Springs General. I’m sorry to disturb you so early, miss, but we have an officer Philip Zimmerman in our operating room with a gunshot wound, and he has you listed as his emergency contact.”

You were glad, at that moment, that you were already sitting down. You felt the air evaporate from your lungs, your entire body going rigid in fear; you were pretty sure had you been standing you’d have fallen over “Wait-is he okay?” Your voice sounded small from the fear now growing within you.

Yet you were angry, too. If the last fucking time you spoke to Flip Zimmerman was last month when you...no, you couldn’t think like that. But if it was, you’d kill him. You’d bring him back to life yourself just to kill him.

“He took a bad hit to the shoulder, but it was clean through so the doctors are just repairing the nerves and assessing for any other trauma. He should be out within the next half hour.”

When your lungs began to work again, it was like you were learning to breathe for the first time. The air rushed into your grateful lungs and you heaved a small gasp as relief swept through you. You thanked the nurse and confirmed you were on your way.

After hanging up, you dropped your head into your hands and took a few deep breaths to steady yourself. Your thoughts turned to memories of the last time you’d seen the love of your life, fucking Flip Zimmerman.

++++

Flip was staring across the diner table at you in surprise, his brows raised comically high, nearly disappearing into his raven locks.

“Darling, what?”

“I said...no, I don’t think we should live together, yet.” You shrugged, but leaned closer and took one of his hands into yours, rubbing your thumb across his skin reassuringly. “It’s not that I don’t want to, or haven’t been thinking about it myself. But, Flip, I don’t think you really want that.”

His surprise fell into a frown at your words, and he leaned across the table toward you, mirroring your pose. His eyes searched your face for a long moment before he spoke, “I asked you because it is what I want. If you want it as well then that’s all I need to hear, darling.”

“Flip, I’ve known you for a long time. Speaking as someone who was your best friend for most of that time until you finally admitted you loved me-which by the way, was only two years ago, I’m not sure this is smart.”

“What the hell does that even mean, (Y/N)?”

You sighed, “It doesn’t bother me that commitment and change is tough for you. Just getting you to leave a few extra pairs of pants and some shampoo at my place was an ordeal, remember? You really think taking both of our lives and putting them inside the same house isn’t going to...” You trailed off, searching for the right words. How could you tell him you were terrified he was going to leave you one day? Once he realized that he could do so much better. Moving in together seemed like the perfect storm for that to happen. “I don’t want you to regret moving too quickly. We’ve always taken our time, you and I. I’m not impatient.”

Flip leaned away, his hand pulling away from yours to cross his arms over his chest. He always took his time to speak whenever you had serious conversations. You were the live wire, the one who got emotional too quickly regardless of your intent. You took the opportunity his silence presented to take a breath, your eyes never leaving his.

“This really what this is about-you think I’m not ready to commit? Or is it you that ain’t ready?”

“Flip, you know I’m being careful here. I care about you, about us. I don’t want us to fuck this up.” You didn’t add the rest, the part where you’d waited too long to be with him, that every day together felt like a dream and you were waiting for the shoe to drop and wake you back up.

You probably should have just been honest.

One thing Flip was excellent at was shutting down. You read his expression the moment he decided the conversation was over, your stomach flipping over as you saw his disappointment and pain.

“Flip-“

He raised a hand, “Don’t. It’s fine. Let me take you home.” And just like that, he stood up, pulling his wallet out and tossing some cash on the table to pay for your food before turning and walking away. It was this reaction that always, ever since you were stupid teenagers, set your teeth on edge. You couldn’t understand how he didn’t argue, how he didn’t have feelings bubbling up inside that threatened to spill out with every breath. He just took a moment, and then he’d walk away.

It made you want to scream.

Ever the gentleman, he was holding open your door for you when you joined him outside the diner. You settled into your seat, your mind reeling. Did he actually think you didn’t want to live with him? The idea of waking up every day in his arms was a fantasy you harboured for years before the night he showed up at your apartment two years ago. Before you could do more than open the door, he had cupped your face with his big hands and gave you the softest, sweetest kiss you’d ever had. Your knees had nearly given out, it was so perfect.

“Flip,” You began, watching as he started the car, his eyes fixed straight ahead, “Please, I know what you’re doing and I do-“

He froze in the process of reaching to shift the car into gear, his head whipping around at your words, “You know what I’m doing? Really?”

You gazed at him in surprise, but didn’t hesitate to reply, “You’re just giving up-you didn’t hear the exact answer you wanted and now the conversation is just over?”

He huffed out a noise of agitation, hands tensing on the wheel, “(Y/N), we don’t need to beat this around- you don’t think I’m ready, and I don’t think you’ll ever trust me enough to be convinced I am. I can’t see a way around it.”

“You think I don’t trust you?” You gawked at him, emotion swelling in your chest like it always did, bursting out. “That’s what you fucking think?” Your voice had risen now, as your mind began to scream at you that you were an idiot and deserved this fight, deserved this pain, so keep digging the hole.

He didn’t reply, he just gave you a rather pointed look. And then the fucker turned to the road, threw the car in gear and drove you home. You sat in a heavy silence the whole way, your mind swirling with so many thoughts you worried you might throw up. He believed you didn’t trust him, you saw it in his face. It had been like being slapped hearing him suggest that.

You were pulled from your thoughts when the car shuddered to a stop. Looking up, you saw the pathway to your front door. Flip put the car in park but didn’t shut it off. He wasn’t going to come inside.

“Just like that?”

He looked over at you, his expression unreadable. “Let’s just, cool it for a day and we can talk about this some other time.”

“Some other time? You want to just forget this conversation happened?”

“Yeah,” He rasped, voice low, “Yeah, I kind of fucking do.”

Letting out a breath, you shook your head in dismay. You’d been having a great day together before this fucking conversation. Maybe if it hadn’t caught you so entirely off guard, you would have had a better answer to him asking to move in together. Instead, you blurted out your concerns in the worst way and unintentionally hurt his feelings. You were angry at yourself.

“I think I’m going to need some time.” You said, looking away from Flip. He turned toward you in the cab of the car in surprise.

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw him reach toward you hesitantly before ultimately dropping his hand into his lap. “What do you mean?”

You flinched at the pain in his voice, “It means if you think I don’t trust you then we have bigger issues than I thought. It means we should take a break and think about what we want,” You looked up at him, meeting his dark eyes, “I’m sorry this conversation got away from us. I-I’ll call you.” And without another word, you had climbed out of the car and walked quickly toward your front door, never looking back.

You let yourself break down once you had locked your door, great sobs painfully ripping from your chest. So consumed by shame and anger, you never called him. Flip had left a few messages-all the same, that he missed you and was there whenever you were ready to talk. But you never returned them because it would mean having to admit to him all of the fear that was behind your words that night at the diner.

Maybe he deserved better, and this was his out, you thought.

But then nearly a month passed by and you were so miserable that you spent your free time watching the fucking Price is Right like an old lady and crying yourself to sleep each night.

And now he’d been shot.

++++

“Excuse me!” You waved at the first nurse you saw once you’d entered the emergency department doors, frantically looking around as if Flip would be in the middle of the room.

The nurse paused and gave you a knowing smile as if your current state of undress was something she’d seen many times before. You had been sleeping in a silk pyjama set Flip had gotten for you last Christmas, and you hadn’t bothered to change. You’d simply thrown a cardigan on, not bothering to button it, slipped on your converse and driven to the hospital, ignoring the rules of the road in a fashion that would have gotten you in a lot of trouble with Flip.

You were thankful that it wasn’t too cold out, as the sleep set did little in the way of keeping you warm. Which had been the point, Flip had told you, because he liked holding you while you slept together and he didn’t want you getting too hot. The man was a furnace. The shorts only came mid-thigh, though they were loose-fitting at least. All the same, the amusement on the nurse's face was clear. You would laugh about that later.

“Are you here to see the detective who was shot?” She asked you kindly. You nodded feverishly, and she gestured over your shoulder.

“His colleagues are just in there waiting. You can join them until his nurse comes out for you-shouldn’t be long now honey.”

Thanking the nurse, you spun around and walked into the waiting room. It was a quiet night, the only people in the room were Flip’s partner, Jimmy, fellow detective Ron and Sergeant Trapp. They all looked up as you came into the room, Jimmy standing quickly to meet you.

“(Y/N), it’s alright he’s just fine-“

Your eyes widened at him, “Just fine? He was fucking shot-who the fuck shot him? What the fucking shit happened?”

One of the things that Flip loved about you was your mouth. For various reasons, but he’d always appreciated just how many curse words you could contribute to a basic sentence. It always made him laugh, endeared him to you even as teenagers. All of the men in front of you had to decency to gulp as they took in your dangerous expression.

Ron rubbed his hands down his thighs, “Perp had a partner we were unaware of, Flip caught him sneaking around to ambush Jimmy but the guy got a shot fired off before he took him down.”

You continued to glare at the men and Jimmy cleared his throat, “Perp that shot him is in custody, we booked him before coming straight here.” You crossed your arms, sighing as you nodded curtly.  

You were incredibly worked up despite their assurances. You didn’t trust yourself to speak again. The silence in the room only lasted a few moments before Jimmy spoke up again. “He’s going to be thrilled you’re here, you know. Man hasn’t been right all month.”

“You two sure had one hell of a fight.” Ron supplied, forcing you to respond.

“It was stupid,” You ran your hands across your face, exhausted and filled with regret “Listen, thank you for having his back.”

Before Jimmy could reply, a nurse entered the room and called your name. You quickly followed her out, your heart rate increasing with each step that took you closer to Flip.

He was sitting up when you came into his private room, his face pale but looking otherwise healthy. His arm was well bandaged and skin clean. He was shirtless, wearing only a pair of navy briefs you had gotten for him at a sale a few months prior. His lean muscles and broad chest always made you blush-he was just so big, so strong. When he looked up and saw you moving toward him, his mouth opened in surprise. You weren’t sure if it was for the fact that you were there, or if it was from seeing the fiery expression on your face, but before he could do more than choke out your name, you were on him.

Taking great care not to touch his left arm, you wrapped Flip Zimmerman in your arms, leaning across the narrow bed and burying your face into his neck. A sob broke out when you spoke, “I’m so, so fucking sorry, Flip.”

His good arm wrapped around you, pulling you closer so that you had to sit on the bed next to him, tucking yourself into his side. You rested on hand on his chest, just over his heart so that you could feel it beating. He dropped his head and placed a kiss on top of yours, rubbing up and down your back comfortingly.

“Sweet girl,” He breathed, his voice thick, “Missed you so fucking much. I’m so glad you’re here.” He was holding you so tightly, as if afraid you’d disappear.

Tears that had been threatening for a while now broke free, streaming down your face. The emotion bubbling in your chest peaked. “Of course I’m here. Fuck, Flip-you scared the hell out of me.” You pulled back slightly to meet his eyes. They were warm tonight, gazing at you with affection you certainly did not deserve.

“Scared the hell out of myself,” He admitted, raising his free hand to stroke your jaw, pushing your hair over your shoulder, “Thought I’d never see you again, never get to apologize for for-“

You shook your head, abruptly cutting him off, “Flip, it’s me who should be apologizing. I fucked up. I freaked out when you asked to move in together and convinced myself it was the worst idea because you’d realize how uninteresting I really am and how much I’m not worthy of you and you’d want to leave before the moving boxes were fucking unpacked.”

He stilled, his eyes searching yours to seek out how truthful you were being. He looked utterly astonished, “Christ, sweet girl, you really don’t see how much I fucking love you, do you?”

You looked down in shame, “Never really felt like I deserved to be loved by a man like you, Flip Zimmerman.” More tears slipped out, hot on your cheeks.

Flip sighed heavily, his hand sliding to cup one side of your face, thumb tilting you to look up at him. “Woman, you are everything to me. I don’t care anything unless you're with me. Not the sun or the stars or anything in this entire universe, got that? If I have to spend the rest of my life convincing you of that, then I will, but don’t ever say you don’t deserve me. You’re my soulmate, sweet girl. I love you.”

You blinked as the emotion swelled within you at his perfect fucking words, and then you were crashing your lips to his, releasing your hold on him to slide your fingers into his hair and tug his face as close as possible. He responded in kind, deepening the kiss despite your salty tears and trembling body. You both put everything into that kiss, the hospital around you fading away.

It was just the two of you and a million I love you’s.

Eventually, you broke the kiss to breathe, your cheeks and chest flushed. Fuck, you had missed him. Panting, you looked him in the eyes, enjoying the mixture of love and desire they reflected, before you smiled. “I love you too. And I’m moving in this weekend, so you’ll want to get those fuckers in the waiting room to help me so that you can rest up, okay?”

Grinning down at you, Flip kissed your forehead happily. “Yeah, they owe me anyway.” He chuckled, his entire chest rumbling with the deep, warm sound.

And just like that, the worst night of your life became the best and the world felt whole again.

Once Flip was discharged, you took him home, driving much more carefully now and helping him inside when you arrived at his place. Despite the early hours and the lack of sleep, you followed Flip Zimmerman to his bed. You spent the next few hours showing each other how much you loved and missed one another before eventually succumbing to the best sleep you’d had in weeks, curled up against his good side in his bedroom.

Well, you supposed, it was your room now too, wasn't it?

Did you enjoy this story? Please consider reblogging or commenting to ease my inner turmoil as a writer. Likes are basically just a bookmark!

[yurtletheturtlehenderson]

COSMIC - S3:E3; Chapter Three, The Case Of The Missing Lifeguard - [Pt. 4]

A Will Byers x Reader Series

𝘌𝘭 𝘨𝘰𝘦𝘴 𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘭 𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘫𝘦𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘥𝘪𝘴𝘤𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘉𝘪𝘭𝘭𝘺 𝘩𝘢𝘴 𝘥𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘏𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳. 𝘞𝘩𝘪𝘭𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘨𝘪𝘳𝘭𝘴 𝘵𝘳𝘺 𝘵𝘰 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘪𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘭𝘪𝘧𝘦𝘨𝘶𝘢𝘳𝘥, 𝘞𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘵𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘨𝘦𝘵 𝘔𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘓𝘶𝘤𝘢𝘴 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘪𝘯 𝘋&𝘋. 𝘋𝘶𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘯 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘚𝘵𝘦𝘷𝘦 𝘴𝘱𝘺 𝘰𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘴𝘩𝘰𝘱𝘴, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘙𝘰𝘣𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘥𝘦𝘤𝘪𝘱𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘙𝘶𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘢𝘯 𝘮𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘢𝘨𝘦.

⚠️: character death, gore, jazzercise, and small mentions of El having a panic attack [will include markers]

📝: the character death and gore is a flashback from last season cause apparently making us watch Bob die once wasn't enough 🥲 also sorry the code cracking scene was so bad, it was kinda hard to write

||𝟑𝐑𝐃 𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐎𝐍 𝐏𝐎𝐕||

It hadn't taken long to get El ready for her next trip to the void. El found a spot on the ground, dry enough to sit, and began constructing a familiar device with goggles and duct tape they had miraculously found laying around. El had been kicking herself for leaving her headband at home, she should have known she'd need it. But this would do. And it reminded her of her conversation with Joyce that night; the first time someone had helped her through her fears of the void. Y/n and Max got to work behind her, turning on each of the showers to create the white noise El needed.

When they had finished, they took a seat on either side of their friend who now sat before the photo. Drawing in a deep breath, she placed the goggles over her face and began her search.

It was cold and lonely like it always was. Again, she tried to remind herself her friends were with her but it did little to lull the growing fears of what she might find next.

A mailbox was her only clue this time. It wasn't too far away, but the way it stood alone in the distance, waiting for her, unsettled her somehow. Maybe that was just the void, but that felt like a lie she kept trying to tell herself to get through it all.

It bore the numbers 1438, and it was sprinkled in rain. When she finally reached it, she carefully reached out her hand. She could almost feel the tin under her fingertips when suddenly a crimson smoke manifested out of thin air just feet away. It didn't take long for the smoke to build and the picture to form.

"What do you see?" Max asked, after some time.

"A door," El answered, her voice obstructed from the goggles over her nose. "A red door,"

It sat there, waiting for her to move. El knew she had to, and when she did that awful feeling in her gut grew stronger. Her heart pounded against her ribcage as she reached for the handle, and it took all she had not to waver as it slowly swung open.

El's frown grew at the sight waiting for her on the other side. A ways away sat a bright white bathtub. She wasn't at all eager to find out what was inside, but when she did, she wished she could say she was surprised.

Ice. Just ice.

Just like with Billy, but the ice hadn't melted yet. The tub was almost overflowing with it and—

El jumped back when a girl shot up from within so suddenly. It was Heather. She was pink-faced and trembling, but something told El it wasn't from the cold. The droplets of water covering her face had easily disguised the tears slipping down her face, and the look in her glassy eyes was pleading up at her.

"Help me," she sobbed.

El didn't have time to react before Heather was pulled violently back under. El shrieked, immediately diving after her only to be met with the watery floor. She was panting for breath, trying so desperately to calm her racing heart but she realized she didn't have time to. Heather was still there, in need of her help and she was quickly disappearing under the water that separated them.

El cried out to her, desperate to reach her but something was stopping her. She could scream and claw at the surface of water separating them, but by the time she found a way to duck her head and arm in after her, it was too late. El watched helplessly in horror as Heather was pulled into the deep black abyss of her watery grave, crying out for help.

"NO!"

■■■■■■■■■■■■■

El threw the goggles off her head in an instant, her shoulders heaving as she gulped down breaths of air.

"What happened?" Max asks immediately, her hand flying to El's shoulder for comfort. "El!"

El didn't answer. With a haunted look in her eyes, she gaped between her friends. Worried, to say the least, Max and Y/n looked to one another afraid as she buries her head in her hands. El didn't say a word and instead collapsed into shaky sobs as she tried to come down.

Y/n recognized the panic attack, and in an instant she had thrown herself to the floor beside El, laying her hand on her back and began rubbing soothing circles.

"Hey, you're okay. You're okay. Take my hand," She whispers, carefully taking El's left hand in her own. She knew it was a good sign when El squeezed back, despite her heaving breaths. It was a sign she was responding. "We're here, it's okay. Just breath. Deep breaths, in and out,"

El's breathing barely slowed, but Y/n kept encouraging her. As they found themselves doing more and more, Max and Y/n lock eyes, their faces horror-stricken for their friend. El doesn't notice. She merely squeezed Y/n's hand tighter and allowed the sobs to come.

■■■■■■■■■■■■■

⊹ ⊹ ⊹

HAWKINS NATIONAL LABORATORY

Once a place thriving with life and secret agency was now a desolate wasteland; a grave for rot and chaos that lay untouched for months.

The sign once erected on the outer gates now lay dented and scuffed among the mud and rain, forgotten like the rest of the laboratory.

RESTRICTED AREA

NO TRESPASSING

U.S. GOVERNMENT

PROPERTY

Hoppers truck comes to a screeching halt outside the lab's doors. Grabbing their bolt cutters and flashlights, Joyce and Hopper make their way to the abandoned laboratory that had caused them so much pain.

Joyce couldn't shake the feeling something was wrong. She knew it was silly to be so worried about faulty magnets, but she didn't regret her actions. The last two times she had this unshakeable feeling in her core, she had been right to listen. The first being the moment she found Will's bed empty on the morning of November 7th, 1983. The second being Halloween night, the following year. And each time she felt it, untold horrors had followed.

And now? So far, those instincts hadn't failed her yet.

One visit to Scott Clarke about the town's sudden faulty magnets and her doubts were confirmed. And according to him, the only way an unstable electromagnetic field big enough to reach over all of Hawkins would have cost billions of dollars, and likely government-funded.

This had the lab written all over it. This had to do with the Upside Down and those monsters with it. It just had to. And she wasn't about to sit around and wait for it take her boy again. Or anybody else for that matter.

So here she was, nothing but a flashlight in hand and a fierce determination in her as she stormed the gates of Hawkins Lab, Hopper in toe.

The lab was just as they had left it that night. Glass was shattered among the floors from the busted windows, the chill seeping in from all sides; still as sharp as it was that night.

"Hello? Anybody home?"

The only answer the duo receives is the echo of Hopper's voice bouncing back to them as they step inside.

"We come in peace."

As she stood here now, Joyce realized everything was as she had last left it. That is... all but one thing.

One person.

Bob Newby. Superhero.

《•••》

He stood, the warmest of smiles gracing his face as he looked at the woman he loved. She was safe.

The next thing he felt was a harsh thud in his spine and skull as he was thrown to the floor.

All he knew was fear as he stared death in the face; its haunches in the air and its faceless head peeled away to reveal several rows of sharp thorny teeth as it pinned the man to the floors.

Joyce jumps back at the sight, her horrified screams blending with his own. The creature towers over Bob, and despite the man's best efforts he cannot quite match the beast's strength. It raises a single lean arm into the air, and in one swift motion its talons glide down to meet his left kidney. As its claws sink further into his sides, a cloud of deep crimson stains his scrubs, and a guttural cry of pain tears from deep within his chest.

"No!"

Joyce's cries of anguish alert the chief, who comes in all too late. He draws his rifle, now more in tune with the weapon without a still unconscious Will over his shoulder. But even then, it is far too late when the bullets hit the thing attacking Bob. Life has already begun to drain from the man, and in a matter of seconds, his chest had been torn to shreds.

"No!" She cries, fighting against Hopper's grip, unable to tear her teary eyes away from Bob.

"Go!"

As she is pulled around the corner, her one free arm stretches out after the man who had risked so much.

"Bob!"

The last thing she sees before the scene disappears from her view altogether is Bob's trembling and bloody hand reaching out for her in his remaining moments.

"No!"

《•••》

"Joyce,"

Her eyes are far away and haunted when she finally looks at Hopper. It looked to him as if she was pulling herself out of a memory, and he didn't have to wonder which. Hopper had a hunch this would happen, but he was in no place to blame her.

"You okay?" He asks.

But she was already burying it. Again, something he anticipated.

"I'm fine," she says quickly.

"You wanna wait in the car?"

Joyce all but scoffed and marched ahead.

"I said I'm fine."

⊹ ⊹ ⊹

Hours. They had been at this. For hours. At least... Well, that's what it felt like to Steve and Dustin as they continued their search.

Really it had only been a little over one.

Spycraft could be pretty boring, they quickly realized.

Their mission was beginning to feel a bit silly as the longer time wore on. After all, what were the odds they'd find an actual evil Russian waltzing around in broad daylight?

"Target acquired," Dustin gasped.

Okay, so maybe the odds were pretty decent.

"Where?"

"Ten o'clock. Sam Goody's,"

"Give me that," Steve says, taking hold of the binoculars.

Sure enough, just as Dustin had said, a towering man in shades, long blonde hair, was carrying a duffle bag as he strode through the crowd.

"Shit. Duffle bag,"

Lowering the binoculars, the duo look to one another with grave faces as it dawns on them.

-"Evil Russian"

He wasn't at all hard to spot in their sudden chase. His all-black jumpsuit stood out among the sea of neon around him as he ascended the escalator.

Despite his casted looks at his surroundings, the man didn't seem to notice the two boys close on his tail.

"Slow down," Dustin warned, as they squeezed through a group of girls.

"We're losin' him,"

"You're getting too close,"

Steve's shoulder suddenly collided with a guy not much older than him, who turned to scowl at him.

"Watch it, dickwad!"

The target slowed, peering curiously over his shoulder. Steve and Dustin fall back against the wall; Steve behind a plant that didn't exactly hide him or his bright blue uniform and Dustin ran for the payphone. He picked it up, immediately speaking into it in a monotone voice he would cringe at later.

"Hello. Yes. I am fine. How are you?"

But he didn't seem to notice, the target had already moved on. He seemed to be in a hurry.

When they were certain he had no reason to spot them, they fell back into a scurry on his tail which carried them all the way to...

Jazzercise?

Peering around the corner, Steve and Dustin watched bewildered as the man hurried to the front of the class.

"All right, everyone, listen up!" He yells.

Their minds raced as he threw the duffle bag onto the counter with an impressive thud before pulling back the zipper.

"I just have one question for you."

What evil did this man have in mind for this poor, unsuspecting group of women?

"Who..."

He rips his glasses off, and reaches into the duffle bag-

"is ready to sweat?"

-and pulls out a boombox.

Simultaneously, their faces fall into small 'o's as they gape at the unexpected turn of events.

The ladies clad in neon tights and leg warmers bounce happily on their mats, and a chorus of agreements ring out throughout the class.

"That's right!" Cheers the non-Russian. With a blindingly white smile, he presses play on the boombox and Wake Me Up Before You Go-Go begins to burst from the speakers. Stepping onto a mat of his own, he unzips his black jumpsuit — which they now realized was a tracksuit — to reveal an equally neon, dangerously thin, muscle tee. "Okay! Let's start nice and easy now."

A grimace falls over Steve and Dustin as they watch the sight unfold.

"Let's move our thighs. Yeah!"

The women cheer as he begins to grind the air.

"Yeah, ladies, warm it up."

They begin to copy his motions.

"Bring it down to your hips. Start feeling that burn, everywhere, down in the loins, right?"

Steve just blinks.

"Slow now. Just isolate."

The man begins thrusting his hips, and Dustin watches horrified.

Okay, so maybe this mission wouldn't be so easy.

But if they were going to find anything, he was sure it would be easier to handle than this.

⊹ ⊹ ⊹

"The week is long," Robin mutters. "The silver cat feeds when blue meets yellow in the west. A trip to China sounds nice if you tread lightly."

She takes a thoughtful sip of her soda, eyes raking over her notepad with the now fully translated message. Turns out, translation went a lot faster without those idiots trying to help. But something was still nagging at her.

"Tread lightly," she mumbles, discarding her drink and beginning to thumb through the translation book.

Had she gotten it wrong? She didn't think she had, but why else would it be bothering her?

She was pulled from her thoughts at the sudden sound of knocking on the back door. In a haste, she unhooks the headphones from her neck and squeezes through the partition window before yanking open the back door.

"Delivery for you,"

"Thank you," she says, grabbing for the package.

It was heavy, but that was to be expected. It must be the new shipment in from Michigan, she thought. With a huff, she drops it onto the break table before turning back to the waiting delivery man.

She scratched her signature in before handing the pen and clipboard back, and that's when her eyes linger on his uniform.

LYNX TRANSPORTATION

That nagging feeling was back, but more than anything it felt like an itch had finally been scratched.

It couldn't be, could it?

"Have a nice day,"

"Yeah, you too," she mumbles.

She could hear the wheels of his hand truck carrying down the hall and that's when Robin peered out after him.

A hint of a smirk grew on her face when she laid eyes on the insignia painted over the back of his uniform.

"Silver cat." She gasps. "Silver. Cat."

⊹ ⊹ ⊹

"Hey, Robin, you're not gonna believe who Dustin thought was a Russian," Steve grumbled as they strode back into Scoops Ahoy.

Dustin shoved his arm.

"You did too."

"No, I did not!"

"Yes, you did!"

"No, I did not."

But Robin wasn't listening. She had shoved herself right past them without so much as a glance in their direction.

Out of breath in exhilaration, Robin finds herself on the ledge of the topiary in the very heart of Starcourt. Her eyes scoured the shops and she can feel everything falling into place.

"A trip to China sounds nice," she mutters. "A trip to China... sounds... nice..."

If Lynx Transportation was the Silver Cat, something in this mall — a store in this mall — then that meant...

Imperial Panda.

Her grin returns.

"A trip to China sounds nice."

She checks her notes again.

'If you tread lightly'

It had to be something with shoes...

How about Kauffman shoes?

"If you tread lightly,"

Now blue and yellow... what could that be — where had she seen that?

"When blue meets yellow..."

Her eyes fly across the walls, and for a moment she wonders if it's somewhere deeper in the mall out of sight. But that didn't make sense. What did make sense were the two clock hands at the center of the mall she had glanced at almost every hour of every shift.

"in the west."

"Robin?"

Steve and Dustin reach her side, peering up at her with a questioning look.

"What are you doing?"

"I cracked it," is all she can say.

"Cracked what?"

No longer able to contain her excitement, she jumped down from the ledge and her lips split into a small, shaky smile.

"I cracked the code."

⊹ ⊹ ⊹

Stepping through the airlock doors that separated the world from the gate to the Upside Down was not as daunting as it once had been.

For one, the airlock obviously was no longer functioning, nor was anything else in the building and above all, it all felt... empty. It looked more like an abandoned hospital than a notoriously evil government lab dedicated to the study of alternate dimensions and psychic child weapons.

And what once had been a gaping hole that lowered into a stories-high rift to another dimension was now just a slab of fresh concrete. The gate, and any way of reaching it, had long since been sealed.

Hopper gives a definitive, hollow knock on the plaster when they reach the wall, and turns to Joyce, "Nobody's home," and paces away.

"All the cavities have been filled. I watched 'em do it, Joyce."

At the very least, it was hard to swallow. For so long the truth had always led back here. Everything led back here.

The mind flayer, the demodogs. Will himself.

How could this not be the lab? Or at the very least, the Upside Down?

"It's over," Hopper concludes, seemingly reading her thoughts. Sharing a collective sigh with Joyce, Hopper looks around at the remains as she takes a seat on a nearby lift. "It's over,"

"I feel like I'm looking my mind," she says.

"You're not losing your mind," Hopper assures, nervously beginning to pace. "Not any more than I am."

He nibbles on the inside of his cheek as he nervously kicks a loose piece of rubble.

"You know, the other day, I almost shot Betsy Payne's dog because it came rushing at me from behind this fence, and I... I swear to God I thought it was one of those things."

The look in Joyce's eyes was all too familiar. It was a look he knew he had been wearing as long as she had

"You know that I'm keeping a close eye on things, right?"

"Yeah,"

"Because it is important to me." Hopper all but chokes. "It is important to me that you feel safe. That you and your family feel safe. I want you to feel like this can still be your home."

Joyce winces.

"What?" He asks somberly, already knowing the answer. "You didn't think I'd find out about that? Gary called me. He's said he's fixing up your house to put on the market."

Joyce makes no effort to deny his claims and Hopper realizes he never really expected her to. He didn't know what he was expecting. But the Byers leaving Hawkins was something he considered unthinkable.

And knowing that family, he wasn't the only one who'd miss them.

"The kids know yet?"

Joyce doesn't say a word, but it's all the answer he needed. The look on her face says it all; she didn't want to. She was afraid to. But she was also afraid to be in Hawkins. Afraid for her boys being in Hawkins.

And Hopper knew that feeling all too well.

"After Sarah..." he sighs, taking a seat on the ground beside her. "I had to get away... I had to get the hell out of that place, you know? Outrun those, uh... those memories, I guess."

Hopper tries to summon the words but they were having a hard time through the lump in his throat. There wasn't a day that went by he didn't think about his little girl. About what life would have been like had she still been around, how she and El would get along... All of it. But that wasn't the truth, and he knew it.

"I mean, why do you think I ended up back in this shithole?"

Eyes brimming with tears, Hopper peers up at the woman who had wormed her way into his heart all those years ago. She let out a pathetic chuckle, as he did and all he can do is smile weakly up at her.

"But you have something that I never had. You have people that know what you've been through. You have people that care about you. Right here. In Hawkins."

"You mean," she begins, her voice soft and cracked. "You mean, people like Scott Clarke?"

There's a painful silence that Joyce finally puts out of its misery.

"That was a joke," she smiled.

Hopper releases a sharp breath, his eyes fluttering closed in relief and her smile widens just a little further.

"Mm," he groans softly, giving a small laugh.

Lost in the moment and each other's company, they had nearly forgotten where they were had it not been for the sudden clang echoing down the nearby halls.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

The Okra Project:

AAIP Mental Health Association

Black Trans Lives Matter Carrd

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

"The Okra Project is a collective that seeks to address the global crisis faced by Black Trans people by bringing home cooked, healthy, and culturally specific meals and resources to Black Trans People wherever we can reach them."

Taglist:

@dickkwad @iblesstherainsdown-in-africa @miscellaneoustoasts @happyandlonely-blog @peeperparkour @ba-responds ​ @bibliophilesquared @blogforhoes @witch-of-all-things-soft @shawkneecaps @whothefuckstolemykeds @daughter-of-the-stars11 ​ @stranger-things4 @kpopanimegirl ​ @nightbu-g @lozzybowe @gizmofishersupremacy @spiderbitch69420

❥ Let me know if you would like to be added to or removed from the taglist! ❥

[steviesays]

May Fic Recs

yes hello it is the last day of May :)

the secret is to swallow / without expecting hunger to disappear by @lantur - in progress

Fandom: FMA:B

Lantur has given us another BANGER of course we have our regularly scheduled pining but this time from Roy’s point of view

icarus on metal wings by venusianviolet (@trevorsypha on twitter) - complete

Fandom: FMA:B

EDWIN!!! THEY’RE IN LOVE!!!!!! yeah I love them

I was covering my eyes again by fullmetallizard - in progress

Fandom: FMA:B

omg so its like a reincarnation fic where the cast of fmab remembers their past life (canon) but riza doesn’t remember !!!! the tragedy !!!!! how tf is this gonna play out idk but im excited to see

the water’s warm and children swim by more-than-melody - complete

Fandom: FMA:B

just what it says on the tin and what can I say im a slut for young royai

the theory of everything by yourendlessblue - in progress

Fandom: FMA:B

ok so this fic is working OVERTIME on ruining my life aldjfhlsa so basically berthold hawkeye works with time alchemy, not flame alchemy, and yall know how I feel about time travel !!!!!!!!!!! and young royai !!!!!!!!!!!!!! yeah this one was up my alley and has in the process destroyed my emotions

Go, and I Will Follow by @hlwim - complete

Fandom: FMA:B

yeah I sobbed thats all you need to know about this fic its the worst timeline

Be Kind, Rewind by icewhisper - complete

Fandom: FMA:B

TIME! LOOP! this is the second worst timeline ajklhjfkhds

quinque series by @agentcalliope - in progress

Fandom: FMA:B

its post canon focusing on Roy and Riza’s recovery after the promised day and the FEELINGS !!!!!

Dismantle the Sun by @that-hoopy-frood - complete

Fandom: FMA:B

ok first of all I need yall to read everything this author has ever written because its all amazing and all of their FMA:B stuff is CONNECTED !!!!!!! oof I loved this story especially though, its about ishvallan reconstruction being ummm halted adjklsahd love a conspiracy theory/cult shit gets real crazy real fast

Notorious by @bob-fish - complete

Fandom: FMA:B

so this is baby Roy and Chris backstory and I loved it !!!!!! I loved getting into Chris’s character because this story isn’t one that’s often told and this was just a wonderful representation

ok thats all I have for you this month!! I hope you guys enjoy these fics as much as I did and if you have any suggestions for me my ask box is always open! if you see that I didn’t tag an author because I couldn’t find their blog but you know them please let them know I loved their fic!!!!

[artificialqueens]

Galactica, Chapter 79 (Group Fic) - TheDane/Veronica

A/N: Click here if you’re looking for previous chapters (or here if you’d rather read on AO3). 💫

Previously: Violet and Sutan showed up for Bob’s drag show. Courtney had a disastrous day at work before Galactica shut down for the holidays.

This Chapter: Violet parties a little too hard, Sutan gets sick, and Miss Fame finds out about her precious sketches.

***

Violet wasn’t surprised that Bob was an amazing and hilarious performer. What had surprised her was how into it Sutan seemed, slapping his thighs at every joke, cheering loudly, tipping all of the queens generously.

It was so unlike how he behaved at the adult parties they normally frequented, so unlike how he normally spent a night out mingling and networking, his charm laid on so thick sometimes that the real him barely even poked through.

At one point, after watching him stuff a couple of bills down one queen’s corset, Violet must have had some kind of strange expression, because Sutan caught her eye and gave her a wink, saying, “Not my first drag show, darling.”

Violet smiled, shaking her head at him, though she gladly accepted the kiss he offered up, Sutan’s lips tasting like whiskey and those horrible green shots. It was great to see him, to watch the grown man she cared so much for light up with boyish delight, Sutan throwing himself wholeheartedly into the show.

By the time Bob came up to their table after the show, she was starting to really feel the effects of all the drinks she’d had throughout the night, her speech sounding much slurrier than she intended when she accepted a sweaty hug from Bob.

“You were so good up there,” she said, trying to get out her words without sounding as crazy drunk as she felt, “Best one by far.”

“Wow,” said a voice nearby, and Bob let out a hearty laugh.

“You heard her, Thorgy, I’m the best. By far,” Bob cackled, turning and sticking his tongue out at a green-haired queen.

“Your friends are so sweet, Bob, you should bring them more often,” she said snidely, and Violet’s eyes widened, realizing her mistake.

“No, I just meant, uh, that...that you-” she stammered out, and Bob laughed even harder.

“No, we heard you,” continued Thorgy, giving an exaggerated eye roll. “As if Bob needs anything else to make his fat head even bigger.”

“Would you chill, bitch? She was just giving me a compliment! Nobody murdered your family.”

“Shut up, Bob!”

Violet tried to shrink as they continued to bicker, Maxwell slipping her another shot and whispering, “Don’t worry, they’re just like that. Bottoms up.”

Violet picked up the shot, toasting Maxwell with a little shrug, just as Sutan returned to the table with a fresh round for everyone.

***

“Sutan,” Violet groaned, and Sutan couldn’t help but smile, his girlfriend under his arm, snuggled against his side, an open bottle of water in her hand.

“Yes darling?” It had been a bit of a struggle to get to the taxi, Violet suddenly a whole lot drunker than he had ever seen her before, but they had had an amazing night.

It had been literal years since he had last been to a drag show, and he had forgotten how much fun they generally were.

It had been good to see Violet’s work friends, and to get to know them a little better, to know for certain that his girlfriend was surrounded by good people when she went to work.

“I don’t feel good…” Violet whined, the tone so new for her Sutan had to bite his cheek not to chuckle.

“I know lovely eyes.” He held her hand, gently lifting it and the bottle to her lips so Violet could drink some more water. He should probably have stopped her about 5 shots ago, but he hadn’t wanted to cut off her fun, which she was now paying the price for.

Violet took a sip, her nose scrunching up like it tasted all wrong, Sutan holding her in place even as he took the bottle.

“We’ll be home soon.”

He had been smart enough to change the sheets before they left, the task one he normally left for his housekeeper but she was on vacation, painkillers and water bottles ready on the nightstands - fresh sheets and a cracked window a guaranteed recipe for a good night’s sleep, something they both truly needed.

“Mmh,” Violet tried to pull away, her hand pushing against his leg so Sutan let her, his girlfriend sitting up straight.

“I really don’t feel good,” Violet dumped her head back against the headrest, “like I think, I might-”

The taxi rounded a corner, and Violet’s hand flew to cover her mouth, her eyes wide with panic, and Sutan knew instantly what was about to happen.

“Stop the car!” Sutan reached over Violet, opening the door and unbuckling her seatbelt in one fluid motion, a hand on her hip pushing her out on the street as he yelled over his shoulder to the driver. “Stay!”

Sutan followed behind Violet with practiced ease, the maneuver one he had done hundreds of times, models often drinking way too much if they didn't snort something worse during the first year of their career.

“Over here,” Sutan hated that he was forcing Violet to stand on her bad leg, but he didn’t have much choice, one hand finding her waist as he turned her in an attempt to support her weight,  “How are you feeling-”

He was cut off as Violet grabbed his arm and bent forward to throw up, the majority of it landing directly on Sutan’s shoes, his fingers only just catching her ponytail.

“Oh god,” Violet choked, “I’m so sorry-” She didn’t finish, as she puked again and Sutan sighed, the second round of vomit soaking his shoes completely, the leather officially beyond salvageable.

“I’m sorry,” Violet’s forehead was leaning against his stomach, Sutan’s hand on her neck, a hiccup leaving her, her voice quivering with tears. “I’m so sorry, I’m so so sorry-”

“Hey, hey,” Sutan tightened his grip, using his other hand to gently push on Violet’s shoulder to get her to stand up. Her face was an absolute mess, tears streaming down her cheeks, “Lovely eyes, don’t worry-”

“You’re wearing Prada.” Violet sobbed, her hand coming up in a desperate attempt to wipe her tears, and Sutan knew it was wrong, he just couldn’t help but laugh.

“Don’t laugh at me!” Violet hit his chest, but she still allowed him to move her so she was leaning against the taxi, the tip he’d need to give their driver growing by the second. Violet had thankfully not thrown up on herself, which was a true blessing combined with the fact that he had shoved the water bottle into his pocket. He took it out, uncapping it to pour the water over his shoes, washing them to the best of his ability.

It wasn’t perfect, but he had dealt with a lot worse.

Violet was pale, but she didn’t look like she was going to throw up again, so Sutan helped her back in the car, giving the driver a hundred as a thank you for not leaving them stranded.

“Lovely eyes?” Sutan felt a moment of panic when he realized Violet hadn’t said a word since they got back in the car, “Is everything-“

“I’m so embarrassed, I can’t believe I-“ Violet groaned, frustration heavy in her voice, “I threw up all over your Prada shoes.”

“You know,” Sutan grinned, the few times someone had thrown up in his hands so much worse than what he had just experienced. “You’re the only girl I know who’d care about the brand of shoes I’m wearing right now. The vomit would have been plenty for most.”

“Can we please just, not?” Violet sighed heavily, but she did lean her head against his shoulder, which Sutan took as a very good sign. “I’d love to pretend all of this never happened.”

“Violet. They’re just shoes.” Sutan pressed a kiss against her temple, “You’re so much more important.”

***

Raven flipped through the dresses she hadn’t worn in public yet, looking for the one she was going to be wearing for New Year’s. She had gotten several options for her and Raja, but they hadn’t had the chance yet to try anything on and make the decision, glittering suits and the more theatrical pieces Raja preferred on her side of their walk-in closet.

“What do you think of a green theme?” Raven looked over her shoulder and over at Raja, who was sitting sideways in one of the arm chairs, her legs over the armrest, a bouquet of lilies on the side table.

Raven loved their gigantic walk-in closet, the room so big they had to take down a wall when they moved in, but it was one of her favorite rooms in their apartment, so it was well worth it. It was all done in shades of beige and gray, a chandelier hanging from the ceiling, the couch and the arm chairs almost making it feel like a miniature store.

“Raj?” Raven waited for a beat, but when she didn’t get a reply, she turned around.

“Hello? Earth to Raja?” Raven crossed her arms, annoyance curling in her belly. She hated being ignored, and right now, she was being ignored by her favorite person. “Urgh!” Raven huffed, stomping over and grabbing the phone from Raja’s hands.

“Hey!” Raja’s eyes widened in surprise and she sat up, her feet hitting the floor. “Give me my phone-”

“You promised-” Raven held her hand up so Raja couldn’t get the phone, her fiancée grabbing her hips and pulling her in between her spread legs, “you wouldn’t work.”

“I’m not,” Raja tightened her grip, and Raven had to bite back a moan as she felt her short nails dig through the fabric of her dress. “I’m texting Tan.”

“Please,” Raven turned the phone, still holding it over her head so she could see the screen without Raja snatching it away. She had expected to see her emails pulled up, Raja often working at the strangest of times, but instead, all she saw was a row of text messages in Indonesian.

“... Okay, so,” Raven hated admitting that she was wrong, but this once, it seemed like Raja wasn’t actually ignoring her for work. “Fine.”

“Thank you.” Raja smiled as she was handed her phone, her hand guiding Raven to sip on her lap, which she gladly did. “Tan says he has a cold.”

“What?” Raven raised an eyebrow, her arms around Raja’s neck. Sutan never got sick, like, never ever, so this was an unexpected turn of events. “Really?”

“Mmh,” Raja nodded, “He woke up with a fever, but it seems like Violet is there.”

This time, it was Raven’s turn to smile, her hand gliding under Raja’s open shirt. “So you’re going to go check in on him?”

“Oh definitely.” Raja grinned, “Who do you think I am?”

***

“Keep the change.”

To say that Violet was feeling guilty would be an understatement. She did her best not to spill the soup as she made her way back towards the living room where Sutan was sleeping on the couch, the TV running on the news channel.

It was terribly unfair, but she had woken up without as much as a headache, while Sutan was coughing his lungs out, her boyfriend hot with fever. Raja had done a pharmacy run, buying every medicine under the sun for her brother, which was now spread out on the coffee table. Raja had offered to stay, but Sutan had sent her away, telling her with a smile that Violet was taking care of him.

It was equal parts unexpected and amazing that he trusted her, that he still wanted her around after she had literally thrown up on him, the ruined shoes something Violet knew would be haunting her nightmares.

It was truly a miracle that she hadn’t fled the apartment, but she didn’t want to disappoint Sutan, so she stayed.

Violet put the bag down, returning with utensils and bowls from the kitchen, when Sutan cracked an eye open, her boyfriend looking up at her.

“Hey,” Sutan smiled, his hair adorably messy, the blanket all the way up to his chin, a small mountain of used tissues in the bin Violet had put by his head.

“I got you lunch.”

“What?” Sutan sat up, grabbing his glasses from the table to put them on. He was wearing a gigantic sweater and a pair of sweatpants, thick wool socks on his feet. “Wait, is that? Did you get me chicken soup-” He didn’t finish, a cough cutting him off, and Violet felt her heart clench.

“Bread too.”

“Ha,” Sutan snorted, a grin on his lips. “You’re the best,” he tilted his head for a kiss, but Violet reacted on instinct, putting a hand on his forehead, pushing him back, which made Sutan laugh.

“What?”

“You’re all...snotty…” Violet tried not to wrinkle her nose, but it was hard not to, his skin hot to the touch.

“So you can throw up on my shoes, but I can’t get one little kiss?”

Violet rolled her eyes, though she couldn't help but smile over Sutan’s attitude. “Fine.” She leaned forward, pressing a kiss against Sutan’s forehead. “And I really am sorry, I promise that I’ll replace them-”

“Lovely eyes,” Sutan looked up at her, her hands on his shoulder. “I meant what I said last night. I don’t care about the shoes.”

“But-” They hadn’t actually talked about it sober, and while Violet wished that the earth would swallow her up, she pushed on, “You always make excuses for me, and forgive things you shouldn’t, and I-”

“Violet,” Sutan reached up, touching her elbow, “That’s what you do when you love someone, and I happen to love you.”

“...You love me?”

“I do,” Sutan smiled, “I really do.”

“I-” Violet didn’t know what to say, didn’t know what to do, but as she looked at Sutan’s face, she realized that he meant it. This man, this strange, wonderful, amazing man, loved her, and Violet had no idea what she had done to deserve him. “I love you too.”

***

PEARL: How would you feel about a NYE party at 230 5th?

DAHLIA: Well that sounds fuckin posh. How’d you get on the list for something so chic?

PEARL: I’m chic as fuck

DAHLIA: Lol if you say so

PEARL: Lol, is that a yes?

DAHLIA: Sure, why not.

PEARL: Perf. You wanna come over early and get ready together?

DAHLIA: Don’t want to wait until the end of the night to get lucky, huh?

PEARL: Nope ;)

***

Symone yawned, leaning against a column in the Terminal 5 baggage claim, her sunglasses hiding her face as she was waiting for Gigi to appear on the escalator.

Her flight from Little Rock had arrived less than 2 hours before Gigi’s, and even though she could have easily gone back to the apartment, she had told her that she’d wait for her.

Symone was exhausted, but she was also psyched to see her friend, their time apart feeling much longer than a week, so staying at the airport had felt like the obvious choice.

Finally she spotted her, in what looked like a brand new forest green coat with fur trim, Gigi’s red hair hidden under a green hat, her friend carrying herself like a starlet who had stepped off of an old Hollywood movie set.

“Geeg!” Symone called out, waving, and her face broke out into a huge grin as she waved back.

Once Gigi got to the bottom of the escalator, she raced forward, nearly tripping in her platform boots as she ran towards Symone, flinging herself into her arms for a huge hug, squealing out, “Hiiiii!”

“Hey girl, long time no see,” Symone said, laughing, holding her tight. Gigi smelled like airport but underneath it, she was exactly herself, her skin warm and soft, and Symone had missed her more than she was willing to admit.

Soon, the two girls were standing in front of the baggage carousel, arms linked, giggling like crazy as they caught each other up on the latest family drama and antics from their siblings while waiting for Gigi’s bags to show up.

It felt good to be back together, and Symone basked in Gigi’s attention.

It wasn’t like she had never had friends, wasn’t like she hadn't had best friends, but Gigi was special, and Symone felt her heart skip a beat as she took her hand, intertwining their fingers.

“So,” Gigi looked at her, a smile on her face. “Pizza?”

Symone laughed, but nodded, Gigi a terrible but also amazing influence. “Pizza.”

***

“Sutan told Violet he loves her.”

“What?” Trixie looked up from the onion he was chopping, and over at Katya who was sitting at the kitchen table, one hand on her stomach, her thumb rubbing back and forth, her phone in the other.

“She just texted.” Katya titled her screen, though she didn’t actually show the text.

“Haven’t they been dating for months?” Trixie turned around, pretty sure that he had heard the earliest rumors about them going out together from Pearl all the way back in september.

“Not everyone says love you after the second date sugarbutt,” Katya grinned and Trixie smiled, a delighted flush filling his cheeks.

***

Fame sighed, a sense of restlessness and uneasiness lying heavily over her. They had come back from The Farm that morning, Fame spending the early afternoon in her study rearranging her chicken figurine collection.

Patrick had found the most gorgeous ceramic Plymouth Rock figurine, the black and white chicken absolutely a masterpiece, and Fame knew that she should be happy, tinkering with her collection usually an instant source of joy, but today, she just felt…unwell.

Fame wanted to talk to Bianca, but she also didn’t want to talk to Bianca, annoyance at how she had behaved at the dinner party still dancing under her skin.

Bianca hadn’t said sorry, not beyond the hurried apology she had thrown over her shoulder as she left, in fact, she hadn’t contacted her at all besides a single text on Christmas morning.

Fame closed the glass door to her chicken cabinet, walking over to her desk to pick up her phone. She knew it was torture, but she opened her messages, tapping Bianca’s name.

BIANCA: Merry Christmas, Blondie. Let’s hang out when I’m back in Jan. XO

Fame hadn’t replied, annoyance wheeling up in her at how casually Bianca dared to act, how she attempted to sweep how hurtful she had been under the rug yet again. She had overheard Juju and Detox discussing that Bianca had left the country, but Fame had very intentionally not checked any of Bianca’s social media, though Pearl swore to her that a simple look was untrackable.

She began typing out a message, but then stopped, deleting it again. It was too late to respond now without seeming petty, and Fame hated whenever Bianca accused her of that, but they still needed to talk, needed to actually talk about what was going on.

She needed an excuse, some reason to contact Bianca and lure her into a meeting, so she wouldn’t have to show her how she was feeling in text.

Maybe she could find out if one of their regular brunch spots had added anything new to their menu, and then ask if Bianca wanted to join her.

Fame sighed yet again, the plan seeming impossible as she took a seat in her chair, the latest paper deliveries from Galactica lying in a neat stack.

If nothing else, her bad mood could be useful for tearing through some of the more dull and dry parts of her job. Fame took the top one, the weight of it depressing in itself since Fame knew it wasn’t anything fun, Alyssa amazing at her job though she also insisted on being a pain in Fame’s ass.

She made it two thirds of the way through the report before boredom overwhelmed her. She needed something interesting, something fun, and if she was lucky, she knew just where she could find it.

FAME: Hi love, I know you’re still on vacation, but if you have some time today, I would love to hear your thoughts on my sketches. :)

TRIXIE: Your sketches?

FAME: Yes. The Met ones that my office sent to you before we shut down.

TRIXIE: Let me check my computer

Fame took a bottle of Pellegrino from the little office fridge under her desk, twisting the cap and grabbing a glass as she waited for Trixie’s reply.

TRIXIE: I don’t want to get anyone in trouble

TRIXIE: But the last email I have from Courtney is about the investor meeting.

Fame rolled her eyes, absolutely exasperated at Courtney’s inability to follow through with the simplest of instructions, since she was positive that she’d told her to send the sketches.

It took three calls for her to answer her phone, and by the time she did, Fame was fuming.

“Why doesn’t Trixie have my sketches?”

“Um...well, Miss, I…” Courtney’s voice sounded shaky and tearful, which Fame didn’t understand. If she would just follow simple instructions like any assistant, she wouldn’t get scolded or lectured. Her victim act made Fame even more irritated than she was already.

“Tell me! Because Trixie says he doesn’t have them and I know I told you to take care of them-”

“I-I think they might be gone.”

“Gone?” Fame froze, a few seconds ticking by before she really understood what Courtney had said. She felt her heartbeat speed up, dread collecting in her stomach. “What do you mean gone?!” Fame could hear her tone grow shrill, and knew that there was a good chance that Charles would come running any minute, her dog always showing up when she was upset.

“Well, I was in a cab on the way back to the office and then when you called, I-I was distracted and I must have not seen them on the seat…”

“Oh god…” Fame tried to take a deep breath, tuning out Courtney’s ridiculous explanation, her incompetence so staggering that she hadn’t even been able to do something as simple as not losing Fame’s original work.

She couldn’t believe it.

Her sketches were really gone, her work lost somewhere in the city, defenseless against whoever might happen across it.

“...and I have messages in to every company that operates-”

“Enough!” Fame exploded. “I don’t care for your pitiful excuses. How could you be so absolutely irresponsible?! I have put up with all of your mistakes, your incompetence, but this is beyond anything, those were- You’ve done, this, this is unforgivable Courtney-”

The door opened, Charles annoyingly enough clever enough to work out door handles.

“Miss, I’m so sorry-”

Fame could hear that Courtney was crying, but she didn’t care, her heart hammering away in her ears, words spilling from her lips, the only thing stopping her when she heard Bianca’s voice in her ear.

“Blondie!”

“Put Courtney back on the phone-”

“No.” Bianca’s voice was stern, and Fame couldn’t believe that she was taking that tone with her, especially considering her little sex toy’s latest fuck-up. “We’re trying to enjoy dinner-”

“Bianca-”

“You can finish this rant on Monday, but for now, she’s mine. See ya soon!”

Fame heard the beep of a phone being hung up, and as she lowered it from her ear, she saw that Bianca had done just that, cutting her off, and her blood boiled.

Bianca had betrayed her yet again, and Fame could feel her heart breaking, the whole thing so terribly fucking unfair.

Fame threw her phone down on the carpet, and put her arms around Charles neck, the heavy breath of her dog in her ear as she clung to him.

***

Courtney gaped at Bianca, mouth open in shock.

“What?”

“You just hung up on Miss Fame!” she exclaimed. She wiped the tears still trickling down her cheeks with the back of her hand.

“Yeah, so? She deserved it.” Bianca sipped her cocktail, shrugging.

“Bianca! That’s my boss!” The truth, that Courtney wouldn’t admit out loud, was that witnessing it had been a little bit thrilling. No one had ever defended her like that. If she wasn’t so terrified of the repercussions, she’d have been delighted.

“You wanna call her back?” Bianca asked, one eyebrow raised.

“Well...no.” Courtney lifted her hand to her mouth, smothering a nervous laugh. “Oh god, she’s gonna kill me.”

“She won’t.” Bianca reached out and took Courtney’s hand. “At least not until next Monday.”

Courtney gave a rueful smile, shoulders sagging a bit. She’d been having the best time with Bianca, every day filled with joy and excitement and love. Part of her wished that it could last forever.

But of course, it couldn’t. It was just a vacation. And tomorrow they were flying back to New York. Which in and of itself wasn’t a problem. After all, they had a fabulous New Year’s Eve party to go to, which was being hosted by Jinkx Monsoon. (The Jinkx Monsoon, who Courtney was thrilled to finally meet; she hoped she wouldn’t embarrass herself by being too much of a fangirl.)

And then a few days later, the movers would come to help her get all her things from her apartment, and she could say goodbye forever to the apartment that her friends called “The Dungeon.”

So things were looking up--at least better than they had in a long time.

But then there was work.

Courtney knew that she should be grateful for all the wonderful things in her life, but the feeling she’d gotten when she saw Fame’s name pop up on her phone had been sheer, unbridled panic. And it hadn’t gotten any better once she’d answered. The thought of going back to all that, where every move she made was wrong, where she was nothing but a fuck-up and a disappointment, was upsetting and frustrating and beyond anything just exhausting.

“What’s wrong, sunshine?” Bianca asked, pulling her out of her thoughts.

“Nothing,” Courtney said, attempting a smile, which Bianca clearly didn’t buy from the way she tilted her head, eyebrows raised. “No, it’s just...a bit of a bummer to think about work.”

“Yeah, tell me about it.”

“I feel like someone just threw a bucket of ice water in my face and screamed at me to wake up from a beautiful dream.”

“Well…” Bianca twirled her glass by the stem, then asked, “What if you didn’t have to wake up?

“What do you mean?”

“Look, I’m not gonna tell you what to do about your job, but...it just seems like it’s making you miserable, with no upside. And worse, it’s leaving you no time to pursue the things you actually care about, like music.”

“I know, but what choice do I have? I have to work.”

“Do you?” Bianca asked, a smirk on her face, and Courtney rolled her eyes.

“Well, yeah. How else will I pay for stuff?”

Bianca shrugged nonchalantly. “You know your rent just decreased dramatically.”

“I know, but it’s not just rent. There’s my phone and student loans and credit cards and legal bills and-”

“Angel…” Bianca pulled Courtney closer, into her lap. “If money is stressing you out, then I can help you with all of that. Actually, I’d be thrilled to help you, if it allows you to follow your dreams.”

“I’m not asking for your money, B,” Courtney said, looking away. Bianca had already given her so much, and now this? What could she possibly offer in return?

“I know.” Bianca took her chin and turned her face back gently, looking into her eyes. “I know you’re not, but I’m offering. There’s a big difference.”

Courtney bit her lip, eyes falling closed as Bianca kissed up her jaw. Was this really happening? Was Bianca really offering her such an easy out to all of her problems? What was the catch? Courtney felt her throat tighten, tears pricking at her eyes.

“Let me take care of you, angel…” she whispered, and Courtney sighed against her.

“You don’t know how badly I want to say yes,” Courtney whispered back. And it was true, she did. She’d always been independent--in fact, she’d prided herself on it, and so had her parents. Even before she left home to study in America, she’d been self-sufficient. In a way, it felt like a cop-out to accept so much help from Bianca. But Courtney was tired, so very tired, of everything being hard all the time.

“Then say yes. Or at least, say you’ll think about it. You don’t have to decide tonight.”

For a few moments, Courtney gazed at her, too overwhelmed to speak.

“What?”

“Um...you just…” Courtney couldn’t say what she wanted to say, which was that Bianca was every single one of her dreams coming true. That she was sheer perfection. So instead, she said, “You just...look really cute tonight.”

A grin broke out on Bianca’s face as she asked, “Oh yeah? You approve?”

Courtney nodded. She very, very much approved. Bianca was wearing a vivid tangerine-colored dress, the color something she herself would have loved to wear (although she had to admit, it looked so good against Bianca’s skin that she’d probably hesitate to ever wear it again), and everything, even her accessories, were bright and fun and joyful. She was so beautiful, thinking about it made Courtney feel choked up once again.

“I...I don’t deserve you,” Courtney finally said, as a tear slipped down her cheek.

“You deserve the world,” Bianca told her earnestly. She leaned forward and pressed a soft, tender kiss to Courtney’s lips before moving to her cheeks, kissing away her tears.

[tigerseye46]

I saw your latest post about if Peachpig so can I have that (the Bajie and Wukong were married angle) with C54/93/100?

Well this is sad ;-;.

TW: Death

C54. “Everything reminds me about them. I just want to forget them, wipe them out from my life.” C93. “It’s my fault they’re dead.” C100. “Death doesn’t let you say goodbye.”

It was spring when he got married to Bajie, surrounded by the ones they loved, Tripitaka, Wujing, Ao Lie and all of Wukong’s subjects. He remembers how gorgeous Bajie looked in his wedding clothes, how he took his hand proudly then the vows and kisses exchanged with his partner. They danced a lot that night and Wukong had to prevent Bajie from eating the entire banquet.

Being with Bajie made him happy and he loved his husband. Despite their arguments against each other, there was an understanding and a love that grew so much stronger as centuries passed.

The pig understood his decision to retire. He recalls that conversation well.

Bajie was stuffing his face with goodies while his back was against a tree. Wukong approached him, his face contemplative. “Hi, babe,” Bajie greeted.

“Hello, my dear idiot.” He sat beside his husband and shared a kiss, getting a taste of the food that resided in his partner’s mouth. “I have something to tell you.”

His partner raised a brow and placed the food down. “What is it?”

He took a breath and explained, “I’ve decided to retire.”

“Retire?”

“Yes. Give up fighting and stuff. I told you that my sworn brother, DBK, has started attacking again. Probably still mad over what happened to his son even after all these centuries, guy can’t let it go,” he joked and let out a small laugh. “No doubt I’ll be called to deal with him.” He removed the staff from his ear and squeezed it. “And when that happens, I plan to seal him with this.”

The pig’s mouth was agape. “Are ya sure? That staff means everythin’ to you.”

He pursed his lips then bobbed his head slowly. “Yea. I’m sure. I think this is the best decision and I don’t want to kill him.” There was a sharp sting at the thought of killing his sworn brother as if he was being jabbed with a knife encased in Samadhi fire. “Just seal him. Plus… there is something out there that matters more to me than the staff,” he confessed and gazed at his partner who stared at him with love which he greatly returned.

The pig leaned his head to the left and replied, “Okay. If that’s your decision. I’ll support it.”

“Really?”

“Of course, hon,” he exclaimed in a cheery tone. “If that’s what you want to do then I’ll support it!”

He beamed. “Thank you, my love.”

He sighs and sits down on the dining room table, pressing his head against the plastic cover, hearing it crinkle beneath him.

Tears prick his eyes and he sniffles, not a day goes by when he doesn’t think of them, of him. He failed his husband, he failed his family. He should be alone for the rest of his life.

He grips the plastic covering tight, suppressing sobs. It didn’t help that this past week had decided to slap him in the face with a tidal wave of memories concerning his late husband. This has occurred thanks to an adventure where he was forced to explain that at one point in his life, he was once happily married. It hurt to explain it especially to him of all people.

He takes two things out of his pocket and places them on the table, the metal makes a small sound as it collides with it. He observes the objects which are beautiful shimmering bracelets, one made of gold and the other made of silver, the golden one lies on top of the silver.

Seeing them makes the king’s heart clench and a sob escapes his lips.

He lets out a shaky laugh and runs a hand over his fur. “I wonder, if you were still here, still with me, what would you think of me now?” He asks in a whisper. “But I wouldn’t be like this if you were here.”

“Wukong,” a voice calls, snapping him out of his thought process and making his fur stand on end. He gasps and looks up at Pigsy who has his palm pressed against the doorframe, his brows creased to show his worry. Pigsy… the reincarnation of his late husband.

The king bobs his head as a greeting, his fingers wrap around the edge of the table to prevent himself from lunging at Pigsy and pulling him into a bone crushing hug. “Hey…”

The pig takes a step near him. “Hey. Didn’t see ya at dinner.”

“Yea. I wasn’t hungry.”

“I figured. Are ya hungry now? I’ll make ya somethin’.”

“You don’t-” And Pigsy goes off to the kitchen anyway.

Wukong sighs, it eats him up inside to see his husband so close yet so far, not remembering the times they shared together and Wukong won’t tell him, better to live in blissful ignorance than be burdened with memories, better than to have his heart shattered into a million pieces. He questions how Pigsy thinks of him now. Does Pigsy like him at the very least? Does he see him as a good acquaintance? A friend? He certainly doesn’t see him as a romantic possibility.

And that’s fine, Wukong thinks. He doesn’t expect Bajie’s reincarnation to return the feeling, no matter how much he wants. He is happy enough being able to see him.

A bowl appears in front of his face and he looks up at the pig with eyes blown wide. The pig gestures towards the bowl, the monkey grabs it hesitantly and begins eating. “Thanks,” he mutters and the pig gives another nod before sitting down next to him.

The monkey focuses on the bracelets as he’s eating. Pigsy notices his gaze and says, “I’m sorry.”

“Hm? Sorry for what?”

“Sorry for your loss. I know I’ve said it before but…” He rubs the back of his neck. “I thought I’d say it again.”

“It’s fine. It’s not your fault. You didn’t do anything to my husband.” Considering you are him.

“Yea, I know but I can’t imagine losin’ someone like that especially if it’s the love of your life. I’ve never been married so I can’t possibly understand what that’s like.” Yes you have. “I’m here if ya want to talk about it.”

Wukong wants to laugh because he’s so tempted to take that offer. Is he really about to rant to Pigsy about himself? He takes a deep breath and goes, “Are you sure? I don’t want to bother you with my issues.”

“It’s fine. I’m the one who insisted.”

“Okay. He… he was wonderful, well when he wasn’t running around causing problems for us. I was surprised when he fought me on equal ground and kinda impressed. At first I thought he was annoying, but eventually I saw past that and started falling for him instead. I’ll never regret confessing to him, not for one second, only the fact that I didn’t do it sooner. I just… wish I could have stopped it, maybe given him a proper goodbye but that’s the thing about death. Death doesn’t let you say goodbye. I never had a chance to say bye to any of them. I should have done something. It’s my fault they’re dead.”

“Hey, don’t say that! It’s not your fault! You couldn’t have known what would happen. So don’t blame yourself!”

“How can I not? I was supposed to protect them. I failed.”

“You didn’t fail them.”

“Yea, I did. It’s hard, knowing I’m here and they aren’t. I would do anything to bring them back.” I would do anything for you to remember me. “I hate it. I hate being alone.” He grips the bowl, his face weary. “Everything reminds me about them. I just want to forget them, wipe them out from my life.” He goes back to his earlier thought. “If they could see me, what would they think of me now? What would he think?” What do you think, Pigsy? “Would they notice how broken I’ve become? Bajie would try to cheer me up, probably while hiding his concern.” He wipes a tear, it is rare that he calls Bajie’s name out loud, it is always “my husband,” it hurts too much to say his name.

Pigsy’s jaw clenches, it is rare he sees the king this serious and this contemplative. The king hides his pain with humor and subtle acts. Although he should get used to it since he’s seeing the real parts of the king more than he has ever before.

He places a hand on the king’s arm. “Look, I don’t know much about your family or your husband, only the stuff I heard but I’m sure if they could see you, they’d be proud.”

He snorts. “Proud? What would they be proud of?”

“Well for one, you’ve been doin’ a good job of trainin’ the kid. Your little ‘I’m not going to tell the kid important information’ bit aside.” The king rolls his eyes. “You’ve been doin’ well. I think they would be happy at how far you’ve come. Even now, I bet they still love you.”

“You think so?”

“I know so. You’re not a bad guy, Wukong. And what ya said about bein’ alone, you aren’t alone, not for a second. You have us, through and through. We’re here for you.”

Wukong bites his lip and sniffles. “Pigsy…” Deep down a part of him still loves you. “Can I hug you?”

The corners of his mouth lifts up, he stands up. “Yea you can.”

The king gets up and pulls him in a hug. “Thank you.” Thank you, my love. His body trembles and he openly weeps.

“No problem.” The king rests his chin on top of the pig’s head and the pig leans his forehead against his chest, Pigsy isn’t sure why this action rings with familiarity. A red color pops up on the pig’s cheeks, a warm feeling spreads across his chest even with tears cascading down the king’s face. He breathes in the king’s scent then nuzzles him.

Wukong holds onto him tight.

“I’m sorry. I love you.”

“I’m here. I love you.”