#listen i didn’t think the onion did anything serious

[professionallylesbian]

i first heard about The Queen dying on twitter, and it was an article from The Onion so i thought it was a joke for probably about an hour

[risukadarlin]

[piofiore no banshou] vol. 4: yang - track two

2; bounty

masterpost

                                                                            ✿

Don’t let go of my hand.

I don’t want to waste my time and effort searching for you if you get lost.

We’re leaving Chinatown.

Too many people here have strong accents.

I’m tired of listening to other people’s dialects.

I don’t understand those country bumpkins either.

You must be tired of this part of the city too.

There’s no point in going somewhere you can already go without me.

You knew I’d say that though, didn’t you?

Isn’t that why you changed into Western clothes?

In Vereno, you’d always wear clothes I gave you unless we were leaving the rat’s nest.

I suppose there were some exceptions.

No, it’s nothing.

Don’t bring that up.

Shut up and listen.

You already stand out enough around the Chinese immigrants. 

A blonde girl in a qipao will do nothing but draw attention.

That’s no different in Chicago.

No, it might be even worse here.

I won’t complain about you taking the time and place into account.

You’re fragile.

Do what you can to keep yourself safe when we’re not together.

What?

Is it so strange for me to say something decent?

Did you think I was so patriotic that I wouldn’t be happy unless you adhered to my culture?

I don’t intend to tell you never to wear Western clothes again.

I even bought some for you recently, did I not?

Did you forget my devotion already?

Good. I was about to burn all your clothes if you had.

It looks like I was worried for no reason.

Our little rat’s nest can remain uncharred.

I’m glad you have such a good memory.

By the way, how do you feel?

No. As long as you’re fine.

So, what should we do?

If you want to sit down, we can visit a café.

We should walk more if you want to see the city.

Should we go to the waterfront?

Ah, but the rivers here are polluted.

You’re too used to the pure, clean water of your hometown.

I suppose you can’t imagine what it looks like here.

That’s the harm that comes with developing cities.

Don’t play in any rivers while I'm not around.

You could get typhoid.

That’s a deadly disease.

I never know what those brats will try and do when I’m watching over them.

The waterfront will probably smell awful.

I don’t think any of you are stupid enough to play in such a place.

If you want to play with water, go to the lake.

The water at Lake Michigan is much cleaner.

Do you want to go now?

I don’t mind going to look at it wi–

No, it’s too far from here.

Let's go somewhere else.

We could walk there if we wanted to.

But you’ve just recovered from quite a serious injury.

You don’t need to overexert yourself.

Oh? Is that so?

Then I suppose I have no choice.

I guess it’s my job to grant your wishes.

But walking doesn’t suit me.

We’ll hail a carriage.

Look out for one.

                                                                            ✿

This harbour is small.

They only have those tiny ships rich people love to waste their time on.

We’ve been to the Municipal Pier before, haven’t we?

Most cargo ships stop there.

The building over there that looks like a temple is the Field Museum of Natural History.

Apparently, there’s a world fair there.

I’ll take you one day, if you’re interested.

Look at all those food carts.

Shall I buy you something?

Tell me if there’s anything you want.

A bagel?

Have you tried one before?

You haven’t?

They don’t have them in Italy, do they? I haven’t tried one either but apparently they’re from Europe.

I think they’re popular because of the large Jewish community here.

Here and in New York.

Which would you like?

Is one enough?

That one, please.

And the one next to it.

Yes, one of each.

                                                                            ✿

Is here okay?

This one’s yours, right?

Don’t thank me with your words.

Thank me with your actions.

Hurry up and eat.

Hm…

The bread is harder than it looks.

But there’s a good amount of filling.

Is this onion?

Oi.

Give me a bite of yours.

Hm. Plain?

It’s almost sweet.

It’s not bad.

But it’s not very filling.

I much prefer panini, with the ingredients in the middle.

I don’t love it but I don’t hate it.

Hm? You look surprised.

The food in Italy isn’t bad.

Did I not say that before?

And I quite like the sweets you make.

Lao-Shu is full of Chinese immigrants.

Most of the food we ate was Chinese.

But that doesn’t mean we’ll only eat Chinese food.

The place I was born and raised has something to do with that.

Kowloon Walled City wasn’t a place where you were guaranteed food.

Unless you had money or power, you rarely had food.

You’d be lucky to get scraps.

The flavour didn’t matter.

People even died from eating rotten goods.

But if you don’t eat, it just gets harder and harder to move.

If you have no energy, then death begins to creep closer and closer.

I told you that when I first kidnapped you, didn’t I? “Even if you don��t like me, never skip a meal.”

Isn’t that a meaningful phrase to you?

I had fun the night you ended up in our rat’s nest.

You were terrified and desperate to live.

And yet you almost chose to kill yourself, despite your teaching.

Humans have a survival instinct.

It’s normal to fear death.

But only beasts fail to fight their instincts.

You can’t talk to or communicate with beasts.

There’s no point even wasting your time on them.

But you weren’t like that.

There aren’t many women stubborn enough to fight against their fear of death.

Did I say you were just like a cat? Ah, well…

I do remember treating you like one.

I didn’t think any human woman would rather die than spend the night with me.

If you weren’t human, you had to be something.

I don’t like pets.

If you really were nothing more than a pet cat to me, I’d have left you behind.

God.

You are odd.

I almost killed that man when he told me I needed to go to a town like Burlone, nameless and in the middle of nowhere.

I remember actually attacking him, I think.

I was close to ending him but I didn’t quite make it.

I knew it would be hard to secure power in Burlone before I even reached Italy.

I wondered why the police stood by and did nothing while the city was overrun by criminal organisations.

I hoped it would be something fun.

And it was.

I didn’t expect much.

But it wasn’t bad.

And I met you.

What? Don’t you believe me?

You don’t trust easily, do you?

You are cute, almost.

I don’t blame you.

It was love at first sight when I kidnapped you.

Not that you’d believe such sweet nothings.

That’s fine with me.

You’d have died months ago if you fell for every lie I told.

That town was much more fun than I expected, now that I think about it.

The fights were something else compared to those in Kowloon Walled City.

I always found fights that ended in nothing but killing to be a bore.

Those old men were always angry at me for wasting so much time.

But they sent me to do the job, they should have just shut up and watched.

But, thanks to that, there were some unexpected benefits.

Like Red Peony, for example. 

It was never peaceful or easy.

I wonder what it’ll be like here.

Is it not too boring for you here?

Are you disappointed?

Chicago isn’t lacking in criminal organisations or disputes.

But Liu Fang Fui already has roots here.

So we were able to move here without causing much discord with the mafia.

There was no need to panic either.

Hm? What is it?

You look dissatisfied.

Ah, is this about the scene at the restaurant the other day?

We hadn’t been attacked like that in a long time.

I may have killed them too flashily.

But there’s nothing to be done about it.

Do you think people would happily follow the man that killed their leader, even if Liu Fang Fui demands it?

I was nothing more than a newcomer to them.

There’s no guarantee the same thing won’t happen again.

What?

All we need to do is kill anyone who shows their true colours.

But that means we’re not too bored.

I won’t tell you not to hate it here.

I won’t tell you to get used to it against your will.

But you’re my woman.

Things like that will happen.

Accept it.

Now then, shall we go?

Hold on. 

I’ll lend you my hand.

We’ve come this far.

Let’s stretch our legs a little more.

We’re going to take a carriage.

I know you probably want to walk more but I’m tired.

[monsterenergysimp]

Permanence

corpse husband x fem!reader 

summary: you meet corpse on a stream and you’re surprised when he reaches out to you 

warnings: cursing, mentions of tattooing

word count: 1.9k

notes: This is proof read but could have missed some stuff. This is my first corpse fic and my first time writing fanfic since I posted that super cringey book on wattpad when I was like 12 or something. I’d appreciate feed back so please reach out to me :)

main blog @itsmysleepover

read part 2 here!

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

You were cleaning up your station so you can get home and stream. You loved your day job as a tattoo artist but you also really enjoyed streaming. It started as a way to promote yourself as an artist and the shop you worked at but it eventually became a really fun way to destress at the end of the week (or day if you were really itching to stream). “Hey Y/N was that your last client?” your boss, KC, asked as she walked to the front of the shop and put new flash drawings on the walls.

“Yes ma’am!” You said back excitedly. You finished cleaning your station and tossed your black gloves in the trash. “And you can’t trick me into staying and taking walk-ins,” you joked with her. She rolled her eyes and walked back into her office “It was one time,” she said as you slid on your jacket. As you walked out your phone buzzed in your pocket and you checked to see who had texted you. It was a message from Sean asking if you were free to play Among Us with him and some other streamers. You replied that you were on your way home right now and totally down. You were excited to see who was playing this time around since their Among Us streams are super entertaining and have gotten really popular.

On your way back you tweeted and posted to your Instagram story that you’d be streaming soon and set up all your stuff once you made it home. After a few minutes, you had a couple of thousand people watching. You entered the discord chat and Sean spoke up. “Everyone this is Y/N she’s sensitive so be gentle.”

“It’s nice to finally meet you guys and I’m not gentle, I'm ruthless,” You say into your mic and notice the chat calling you a liar. Everyone was in the lobby waiting for the game to start. “You sound way too sweet to be ruthless,” Corpse said. The countdown started and you were imposter with Charlie.

“This should be fun,” you told the stream. Yout tried playing strategically but after such a long shift your brain was mush. You saw Poki in nav and killed her then vented into shields. Not long after the body was reported and you were sure you were going to get voted out or at least sussed.

“Where was the body?” Felix asked. “Nav and I didn’t see anyone near there so whoever is imposter must have vented,” Corpse responded. Felix spoke up again. “I think I saw Y/N walk that way and I haven’t seen her since.”

Shit, shit, shit shit. “I’m in shield right now so-” you said trying to defend yourself but Charlie spoke up. “I was doing tasks with her earlier and I saw her walk into shields so she’s safe but I’m still not sure about Rae.” Everyone discussed a bit more and some people, including Corpse, voted for you but Rae got the majority vote and was ejected. You released your breath and kept playing being extra careful.  

“Okay, guys that was super close. Corpse knows and is out to get me,” you said to the chat. You were eventually voted off but one round later victory was written across your screen with your ghost and Charlie’s avatar. “Good game guys,” Corpse said.

“I told you guys I was ruthless!”

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

You sat at your station doing nothing because a client had canceled a four-hour session. You were listening to music and sketching some stuff but you were bored out of your mind and you didn’t want to leave in case you got a walk-in. The music got quiet as you received a twitter notification saying someone had messaged you. You reached for your phone and saw you had gotten a dm from Corpse.

C: hey :)

You didn’t know what to respond. You were mostly confused as to why he decided to message you out of the blue. Did he want something? But what would he want?

Y: Hii! This is sudden

C: was i bothering you?

    shit sorry!

Y: Youre fine I wasn’t doing anything rn

C: how has your day been

    i dont usually do stuff like this

Y: Im glad you did im doing better now I was so bored

C: what were you doing that was so terrible

Y: NOTHING! thats the problem :(

C: im sure youll find something to do

You stared at his message. Unsure what to respond.

Y: Im gonna give myself a tattoo

C: what?

    NO!

You tossed the needles you used for your tattoo into the sharps box. “Oh my god you didn’t,” KC said. She noticed the wrap on your calve from the tattoo you just gave yourself out of boredom. “It’s not my fault I didn’t have anything else to do!” You said trying to defend yourself. She sighed and just shook her head. “Just go home business is slow today.” It was raining so the shop probably wasn’t going to get a walk-in anyway and you didn’t have any more clients for the day. It was only 2 pm but you drove home and after making lunch for yourself decided to stream. You weren’t expecting too many people so it was bound to be super chill. Your leg felt sore reminding you of the tattoo. You snapped a quick pic of the fresh jack-o-lantern on the side of your calve and messaged it to Corpse.

Y: [image] it came out nice!

C: thats  super cool actually

    i was concerned why you would just give yourself a tattoo but i found your instagram and       youre super talented

Y: Thank you!

For some reason, it felt strange to just have that be the end of your response.

Y: Im about to start streaming if you wanted to watch

    [link]

C: ill be watching ;)

What’s that supposed to mean?

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

You sat in your apartment watching tv, hand lost in a bag of Doritos, and scrolling through twitter. You had stopped paying attention to the anime playing on the screen since you’ve watched it a hundred times and knew you wouldn’t miss anything. It was Saturday and you usually take those days off. Take the time to do chores or meet up with some friends but today you felt like not doing any of those things. As you continue your endless scroll (not helping the twitter addiction you told yourself you’d try to get a handle on) you got a message from Corpse.

C: wanna talk?

You looked down at the message unsure of how to answer. It was a simple yes or no and the obvious answer was yes. You and Corpse had started talking more regularly. You still didn’t have each other’s phone numbers but it was fine. Your conversations weren’t too big-- just you sending him memes, tiktoks, and telling him how much you liked the songs he would drop. Or him complimenting a tattoo you did. Sometimes he’d message you during streams telling you funny stuff his fans would say in the chat and you’d do the same. You learned a bit about each other but nothing too deep or serious. Like how you two lived a few cities away and you both really liked Donnie Darko. When Sean first invited you to that game out of everyone else there you were most excited to meet Corpse. He’s just so sweet and funny. Of course, you’d love to talk to him but you were also itching to talk to him and the last thing you’d ever want to do was make him uncomfortable.

Y: Yeah id love to talk

Here goes nothing.

Y: Wanna facetime or something?

     No pressure or anything it could even be a regular call

     I think facetime is just my default lol

You sent those last two messages quickly after you had sent the first. You wished you could know what he was thinking. It was killing you to think you had turned him off from talking to you completely. You put your phone down on the couch and went to wash your hand of Dorito dust. When you got back from the kitchen you turned off the tv and tossed yourself onto the couch.

Still no message.

Why am I so fucking stupid?  

Just as you were standing up to stretch from sitting on the couch all day your phone buzzed. You reached for it fast and looked to see that it was him. You became super excited still not even knowing what the message said. It could have told you to never talk to him again for all you knew.

C: sure lets facetime

    xxx-xxx-xxxx

You had his phone number. You added him to your small but growing contact list and called. You sat on your couch waiting for a response when he finally picked up the screen was black. It didn’t upset you; you kind of expected it and didn’t care what he had to do to make himself more comfortable during this call.

“Hey,” he said. His voice was raspier than usual.

“Did you just wake up?” You asked and looked at the time. It was about a little past noon and you had only eaten Doritos all day. Shit, you should probably make a decent meal.

“Not that long ago but yeah,” he responded and giggled. That giggle.

“Well, I’ve eaten nothing but Doritos all day while rewatching Ouran High School Host Club, so you’re welcome to join me as I make myself something to eat.”

“Sounds like fun; what are we eating?”

“I don’t know yet,” You said as you stood up and made your way to the kitchen. You opened the pantry and looked. You noticed a can of diced tomatoes and reached for it then checked the expiration date. It was still good. On your counter were some onions and garlic. “How about some tomato soup?”

“Sounds delicious.” you smiled at Corpse and your phone screen not knowing if he was also looking at his screen or not. “You’re really pretty-- you know that?”

“Thanks, but you don’t have to--”

“I’ve already told you what an incredible artist you are so many times I bet you’re tired of hearing it, but you already know what a talented artist you are.”

“That is very kind of you Corpse,” you said to him bashfully as you chopped the onion and opened the can of tomatoes. “But once again you don’t have to reach so far to compliment me.”

“I’m not reaching you are talented and beautiful and--”

“I thought I was pretty.” You could hear him chuckle with a smile on his face. “You’re both,” he said. You could feel your face getting warm from blushing.

“Fuck you you’re making me blush. My face is all hot and stuff.”

He laughed at how flustered you got. “That’s the cutest thing ever.”

You didn’t know how to respond so you just put some olive oil in a pot and tossed in your onions. It became silent but it was a comfortable silence. You turned the stove on and watched the flame for a few seconds. “If it was dark we could pretend we were together and having a bonfire or something,” you said to the phone as you turned the camera to show him the flame (still not 100 percent sure if he was looking at you or not).

“I’ll put it on the list of things to do when you visit me someday.”

[citrinesparkles]

cat part two.

jason todd, eventually x gender neutral reader. 1,052 words. notes: part one here! (edit: part three here!) jason's having a really long night, okay. kids and crooks are one thing. cats are another. warnings: food is sort of discussed?

honestly? he felt a little stupid thinking anything was strange at this point, given the whole 'been dead done that' thing, but even he had to admit that running around cradling a jacket full of too-thin cat felt a little odd.

he'd walked the kids home, hearing the whole way about how clever and sweet cat was and how it liked tuna and chicken but do not give it turkey because it will walk away without eating and their mom said that onion was bad for cats, so none of that either.

when they made it to their apartment building, jordan ran upstairs and gathered up the last of their tuna leftovers in a little plastic baggie, bringing it back with another 'thank you' and a joke about finding a different park. then he'd scooped jazz up and disappeared back inside. jason caught something about sesame street reruns- which, if he was being honest, sounded pretty good right about then.

he took off with cat wrapped up neatly, tucked carefully against his chest.

and it meowed the entire way up to the convenience store three streets over.

it didn't seem to want to stop meowing inside the store, either, immediately catching the attention of the worker behind the counter.

"do you guys carry- uh," he adjusted cat carefully, "cat food?"

her eyes were bouncing between him and the bundle of yelling, and he was really starting to feel the absurdity of the whole situation.

"uh-"

she was interrupted by a particularly indignant meow that made him groan and hold the jacket out to look the cat in the eye.

"what do you want, huh?" he asked tiredly. "i'm doing my best here."

it meowed again.

"is... that your cat?" the cashier asked quietly.

"no." another meow. "but it is my problem."

"o-kay," she stood up and made her way around the counter, giving jason plenty of space as she passed him. "what kind of cat food?"

"the kind that will get this thing to stop screaming at me."

"have you tried, y'know, not calling it 'it' and 'thing'?"

"listen- i've had a long night, okay?" he pulled cat back to his chest- met with yet another meow- and tucked it into one arm, dropping the other hand to dig into his pocket. he emptied it, glancing down at the contents briefly before putting it on the counter. "i've got twenty five bucks and a wendy's coupon, a cat that somehow became my responsibility and just will not shut up, and- as i'm sure you'll be able to relate to, considering your customer service job- a desperate need for a nap that is growing by the second. will you, please, get me whatever cat stuff you can sell me and let me worry about what to call it?"

she leaned back around the endcap, raising her hands in mock surrender. "whatever, bat guy."

"bat guy?" he repeated incredulously.

she nodded at his chest, making him rolled his eyes. "the name's red hood."

she stared at him for a moment, squinting at his head. "that's not a-"

"i know! i know it's not a hood! why does everyone feel the need to point that out tonight! it's- it's symbolic!"

she scoffed, disappearing back down the row of merchandise. "symbolic of what, your childhood dreams of becoming a racecar driver?"

"you'll forgive me for not giving you my whole tragic backstory in the middle of a corner store at three in the morning while cat is still screaming?"

he heard rustling, and the sound of tin hitting tin. "did you just call it cat?"

he took a deep, slow breath and squinted up at the ceiling tiles. "are you really back to giving me shit about it?"

"yeah. that's not a name."

"it's not my cat, so i don't care. besides, you're one to talk- shouldn't you have a nametag on or something?"

"i used to. it got buried somewhere." she reappeared, arms full of cans. "you're so good at names, why don't you come up with something? cashier has a nice ring to it."

"very clever."

she nodded smugly with a barely noticeable eyeroll, turning towards the back room. "i do that sometimes. look, wait here, okay?

"i don't really have time-"

"i gotta get my manager, okay. trust me on this. two minutes, tops."

she was gone before he could respond, ducking into a back room with the cat food.

he reluctantly decided to give her sixty seconds before he just left and hoped the tuna from jordan would be good enough.

she came back with an older woman in tow about forty five seconds in, which was more frustrating than relieving.

he just wanted to be home.

"you were serious," the older woman muttered incredulously, staring at him before zeroing in on the bundle in jason's arms- which meowed immediately, as though it felt her gaze. "this isn't your cat?"

"no. it is not my cat. can i just get my-"

"do you have a litter box?"

oh, duh. "no."

she nodded thoughtfully. "how much did you say you have?"

"twenty five. look, not to be rude, but can we hurry this up? i have somewhere to be."

"twenty five," she repeated, leaning over the counter. "alright. run and grab a box and some litter for him, and-" she turned back to him- "are you on foot?"

this was getting ridiculous. "how does that-"

"one of those pool bags, too, the one with the long strap."

it took about five minutes for the two women to pack the bag full of a plastic bin, a box of litter, like twenty cans of food, and three different toys, before passing it- and his money- to him.

"you helped tony up the street last week, didn't you?" the manager grinned at his protests. "call it even."

if the money ended up on the counter anyway, that wasn't any of her business, he figured.

--

"alright, cat," he muttered as he shuffled through the window awkwardly, "we gotta be quiet."

which, obviously, earned a loud meow.

he sighed and slid the window back down with his elbow, balancing cat and the large bag in the other arm.

"so," your sweet, entirely-too-awake, way-too-amused voice called behind him, "your jacket meows now?"

so much for being quiet.

[ellewriteswrongs]

layers of love - prinxiety

1.8k words

ao3 / ko-fi / previous work

summary: self-indulgent fluffy prinxiety, very domestic, some shrek references, y'all know the drill

cw: mild swearing, slight innuendo/suggestive dialogue

“Hey, can I ask you something?” Virgil asked from where he laid against his boyfriend’s chest. Roman’s hand stilled as he played with Virgil’s hair.

“Hmm?” He hummed, continuing to rock them with one leg hanging out of their shared hammock. “‘Course you can.”

Virgil made something akin to a purr as he laid in the sun, his hoodie discarded for once.

“When you first said you loved me…was it scary?”

Roman’s brow furrowed at the question, leaning back to try and see the other man’s face.

“Scary? I…I guess I don’t know. I think, in the moment, it just felt right,” he spoke with a soft smile, pausing only to plant a kiss on the other man’s forehead. “But ever since I realized it…every time I thought about saying it, I was terrified.”

When Virgil only shifted, tightening his grip around Roman’s waist, the latter continued.

“I was so worried you’d be freaked out and think I was moving too fast and the last thing I ever wanted was to scare you off, but I…” he trailed off, letting out an amused chuckle. “I was only ever afraid of losing you. Loving you has never scared me.”

Virgil hummed, leaning up to steal a lazy kiss from the corner of Roman’s lips.

“But what about all those stupid stories you like?” He smirked, folding his arms over Roman’s chest as he rested his chin on them. “Quite a bit of pressure there, Princey.”

Roman chuckled, twirling a particular strand of hair around his finger.

“Ahh yes, those stupid fairytales that you make me read to you all the time,” he teased, earning a playful slap on his shoulder. “I’ll have you know, I have more than enough understanding of when dramatic proclamations of my undying love are unwanted.”

Virgil just exhaled a short chuckle, reaching to pull Roman’s hand out of his hair and over to hold it against his cheek, first pressing a kiss into the palm.

“Isn’t that why it’s such a big deal though?” He mused, his eyes half-focused on the beach around them. “Like, isn’t the whole point of falling in love so that something changes once you say it? And…and nothing changed when we said it.”

Roman stiffed a little bit from under him. “Did you…want something to change?”

No. No, of course he didn’t. That was the best part about it.

He told Roman as such.

“I guess I just…always thought something would change, even if we didn’t really want it to,” he explained, closing his eyes as Roman started playing with his hair again. “But I like how we are. How we’ve always been.”

“How we’ve always been? I don’t know about you, stormcloud, but I think things have definitely changed for the better.”

Virgil huffed with a small smile.

“Alright, fine,” he said, his cheeks hot. “I’m glad we changed even if it was just a little.”

Roman chuckled, his chest vibrating comfortingly against Virgil’s head.

“Yeah, I think I like you a little bit more these days, sunshine.”

Virgil scoffed, jabbing Roman’s side with his elbow.

“Thanks, babe," he spoke teasingly. “What glowing praise."

Roman only wrapped both arms around him and squeezed tight, one hand cradling the back of his head and the other holding him by the waist.

"My darling dark and stormy knight,” Roman cooed dramatically, peppering kisses all over his face until the other started laughing. "The angel from my nightmares, oh how I adore you with everything I am."

Virgil smiled, his gaze soft and fond as he looked up at the man he loved.

"Mhm, that's more like it," he smirked, stealing a kiss. "I love you, dork."

Roman bent down to lean their foreheads together.

“What's with all the introspection, my love?"

"Good word, babe."

“Shut up, I'm just worried about you," Roman grumbled, tucking Virgil's head back under his chin.

"You're worried about me? Because I’m talking about being in love with you?" Virgil asked, taking one of Roman's hands to fiddle with his fingers.

"Well, you just don't...talk about it. We both don’t,” Roman explained, his voice vibrating through his chest. "And I'm glad we are, it's just...not what we do."

Virgil smiled, sighing contentedly.

"Nothing's wrong, I promise,” he assured him. "I guess I've just been thinking a lot lately."

"Oh wow, congrats," Roman teased with sarcastic claps.

“Shut up, oh my god,” Virgil complained, not even trying to hide his laughter. "I'm trying to be serious here."

"Alright, alright, I concede," Roman smiled, holding up his hands in mock surrender.

"I just kind of realized that I've been feeling different lately,” he started, causing Roman to immediately stiffen and lean back to see Virgil's face. Virgil smirked, rolling his eyes fondly. “I just told you nothing's wrong, chill babe."

"You telling me to chill out is quite ironic, methinks," Roman teased, relaxing back into the hammock. “It's not my fault you're rubbing off on me, Frank Fear-o.”

Virgil snorted a laugh at the nickname before he continued.

"Ever since we said it, I've just felt... better," he spoke, a soft smile on his face. "I don't even know how to explain it, it's just...better. I get headaches less, when I get anxious, it turns into panic attacks like half as much."

He paused as Roman's lips met his temple.

"And I think the strangest thing is," he spoke, propping himself up on his forearm to look down at his boyfriend

below him. “When you told me you loved me, I didn't doubt it for a second."

Roman gave a short, watery chuckle; his eyes tearing up just a little.

"Even just a year ago, I wouldn't've believed anybody who said that to me but you," he paused, reaching to squish Roman's cheeks with one hand until they both laughed. "I knew you'd never lie to me, but more than anything, I felt it."

He leaned in, intending to only steal a quick kiss before it swiftly escalated.

“Who knew you were such a sap?" Roman teased, breathing heavily as they eventually broke apart.

“Says you, Romeo."

“Oh, I wear that badge with pride, darling," he beamed. "According to Thomas' Twitter, I'm his 'simp' side."

Virgil snorted, laying back down as he leaned into Roman's shoulder.

"Okay, they're definitely right about that one,” he mumbled, ruffling the other’s curly hair affectionately. “I’ve got you wrapped around my finger and you can’t even deny it.”

Roman grabbed one of said fingers and brought it to his lips, planting a dramatic, drawn-out kiss with the most exaggerated noise he could.

“But of course!” He bellowed, earning a fond eye roll from his boyfriend. “For it is my only duty to bestow upon you all of the love one can possibly muster.”

Virgil quirked an eyebrow.

“I’m pretty sure you’ve got a few other duties, babe,” he challenged with a smirk. “Like maybe the concept pitch for the next scripted video that you haven’t done, or the notes for the editors, or the fact that Thomas hasn’t even picked up his ukulele since last year, or—“

“Okay! Okay, fine, I can’t devote my whole life to smothering you forever,” he agreed exasperatedly. “But if I could, I would.”

Virgil chuckled, folding his arms over Roman’s chest and resting his chin on top.

“Hmm, yeah I think I’d hate that.”

Roman gave an almost comical pout, pulling out the puppy dog eyes.

“Nope, absolutely not, you’re not getting me with that shit,” Virgil asserted, trying to maintain a firm tone as he came dangerously close to breaking into a smile. “Smother me twenty-four seven and I’ll dump you on the spot.”

Roman pulled a disbelieving face.

“You really think I’m buying that?” He smirked. “That you’d dump me for spoiling you absolutely rotten with my sweetness.”

He knew full well what he was doing.

“I need my space, princess,” he spoke, putting on a suave tone that he knew he wasn’t pulling off by the giggles that came from his boyfriend. “I gotta’ keep up the aesthetic.”

Roman brought Virgil’s hand to his lips, pressing a kiss to his knuckles.

“Alright, alright, I respect the commitment,” he spoke, punctuated by kisses from Virgil’s hand up to his shoulder. “It’s so tragic that Mr. Misery Business would rather brood than swoon.”

“Who says I can’t have both?” He grinned. “I’m multi-faceted these days, babe. I have layers.”

Roman snorted a laugh, ducking his head right by Virgil’s ear.

“Layers,” he spoke with a heavy Scottish accent, his hands squeezing Virgil’s sides. “Onions have layers. Ogres have layers. We both have layers.”

“Oh my god,” Virgil cackled with laughter. “I hate it. I hate you, never speak to me again.”

Roman smirked, unfazed.

“But Virgil, that’s what friends do, they forgive each other.”

“One more word and you’re not getting any kisses for the rest of the week.”

“It’s already Friday.”

“Well, I don’t exactly want to punish myself in the process.”

Roman flushed a little at the rare admittance of affection.

“You think you couldn’t go a full week without any kisses?”

“I mean,” Virgil spoke, rubbing the back of his neck. “I don’t know about you, but I don’t exactly want to find out.”

He answered with a chaste kiss to the other man’s temple. “I guess the world may never know.”

“If Logan were here right now, he’d probably try to get us to find out.”

“Well, then it’s a good thing I never listen to the ol’ poindexter anyways,” Roman grinned, quirking an eyebrow.

“Ahh, yes, my favorite thing about you,” Virgil teased with a sly smirk. “How you’d rather be eternally petty than have an ounce of rational thought in that pretty little head of yours.”

Roman gave an offended scoff.

“You know what, I’m just going to ignore everything you just said in favor of the fact that you called me pretty,” he defended with a humph.

“Oh, you like that?” Virgil continued teasing. “As if you don’t already know you're pretty.”

Roman feigned his innocence.

“I’m afraid I haven’t the slightest idea, darling. Perhaps you’ll have to enlighten me on what you find so appealing,” he drawled, his voice syrupy sweet in a way that would’ve made Virgil weak in the knees if they weren’t currently lying on top of each other. “My cute button nose? Thick, wavy locks? Maybe my taut, round buttocks?”

Virgil barked out a laugh, rolling his eyes with fond exasperation.

“Pull another Shrek quote out of that ass and I’ll see to it that you won’t be able to sit for a week��a full week.”

Roman froze, his eyes widening in surprise.

“Is…is that a threat or a promise?”

Virgil just groaned, shoving him until the hammock teetered and he panicked, clinging back onto the other man. “You’ve been spending too much time with your brother.”

“You may be right, but this is certainly more fun, I must admit,” he sighed happily.

“Just shut up and take a nap, princess.”

“As you wish, my love.”

[ikemensweetheart]

Why are you crying?

Sorry I haven't written in a while, guys.

Taglist: @stardust-dreamer13 @hamster-damn @canaria-blackwell @nad-zeta @tickotaku @thesirenwashere

Featuring: You, Arthur, Theo, Vincent, and Mozart

Arthur on his way to the kitchen looking for an afternoon snack when he heard sniffling coming from the kitchen. He peeked around the corner into the kitchen to see you standing at the counter. You back was turned to him, but he saw your hand come up to wipe your eyes.

He was at your side in an instant. "What's the matter, dove?" He asked worried, placing his hands on your shoulders.

You looked up at him in surprise. "Oh, Arthur, I was just-" you started to say, but the British writer cut you off. "Did Theo do something mean to you, love?"

"Hey! What are you accusing me of, you pervert?" You jumped at Theo's sudden appearance. You turned to see him standing at the door to the kitchen, hands on his hips and glaring at Arthur. His eyes then turn to you. His ocean blue eyes widened at the sight of your reddened ones.

"Arthur, what did you do to Hondje?" He demanded. Stalking towards the other vampire. "I didn't do anything." Arthur replied, offended. "I don't appreciate being accused of another man's crime."

"You think I did this?" Theo said incredulous. "I just got back. Don't go blaming me."

"Guys, guys." You tried to intervene, but neither of them were listening.

"Perhaps if you were nicer to the sweet dove, I'd believe you."

"Are you serious right now?! Knowing you, you might have tried to bite."

"What's going on in here?" You all turned at the sound of a new arrival at the kitchen door: Vincent was there, looking very confused as he had been walking past when he had heard the arguing.

He sees you standing there in between Arthur and Theo, teary eyed. "What did you two do?!" He demanded, rushing over to you, cradling your face in his hands. "Honestly, the two of you should be ashamed of yourselves for making our housemate cry like this."

Theo and Arthur both turn their gazes toward the floor. Thoroughly abashed by the elder Van Gogh's scolding.

"I appreciate the sentiment, Vincent, but Arthur and Theo didn't make me cry." You laughed as you looked at the mentioned pair, both looking like guilty children.

"Oh? Than who made you cry?" Vincent asked.

"What's all this racket?" Mozart asked as he walked into the kitchen. He eyed the assembly critically.

"You!" Theo growled. "It's must have been you that made Hondje cry."

Mozart's violet eyes widened. "What?"

"As cranky as you are, you must have done something." Arthur concurred.

They both moved toward Mozart.

"I do not know what you are talking about." He huffed.

"Oh, really?" Theo looked ready to throw hands.

"Guys!" You shouted at the top of your lungs.

Everyone turned to you, staring in shock at your sudden outburst.

"Nobody made me cry." You said now that you finally had their undivided attention. You stepped aside to reveal a cutting board sitting on the counter behind you. "I'm just cutting onions."

______

Well, that escalated quickly.

It's funny the things that can inspire. Like cutting a very strong onion.

_______

Thanks for reading. I hope you all enjoyed!

Stay Safe

[x0401x]

Jeweler Richard Fanbook Short Story #13

Feel free to message me about possible corrections, and please consider supporting the creators by purchasing digital copies of the official releases: Novel || Manga || Fanbook. In case anyone is feeling generous: Ko-fi | PayPal. ( ╹◡╹)っ’･*

← Previous || Index || Next →

Ramen Story

The voice of the owner as he said “welcome” turned into a mutter at the end, fading away. I could understand how he felt. With a light, cut-and-sew jacket draped over him, a blond, blue-eyed man had come inside, standing behind another man who quite literally had the air of a student. It wouldn’t be unreasonable to wonder if he was an actor. But we were just a party of two.

“Two people,” I indicated with a peace sign. We were guided to a table seat. There were no other people around. While we were at it, we gave them the meal tickets that we had bought from the vending machine outside. A couple of negi ramen.

“What a surprise. There’s always a long queue for this shop. So that’s how shops are like right after they open in a student district?”

In this shop, currently reserved to our exclusive use, I talked without restraint about all sorts of things – about the layout of the classroom building in my campus, about the hideout-like garden in the university’s premises, about my friends and even about my teachers. The shop’s atmosphere did that to me. The man who could well be the best listener in the world let me talk as much as I wanted, occasionally making an exasperated face.

“Here, sorry for the wait. It’s hot, so be careful.”

“Thank you, thank you.”

“You too, Mr. Foreigner. This is ‘hot’.”

As Richard replied with a “thank you, madam”, the old lady laughed fickly.

Now for the ramen.

Its soup was salt-based, warm steam wafting from it. That being said, it wasn’t as if there was anything special about it. We hadn’t added any ingredients, so it was a simple one. Fermented bamboo shoots, dried seaweed, fish cake and a large helping of green onions.

We silently put our hands together to thank for the meal, taking the chopsticks and parting them with a snap. I took the dwindled noodles, then opened my mouth wide and filled it with them. I tried to make as little noise as possible.

Delicious.

This shop’s ramen was simple, but it was a strong ally for a student’s cold pockets and quick-to-get-hungry stomach. It stayed steadily in your belly, resolutely reminding you for about three hours that you had eaten ramen today. And above all else, the animalistic joy of eating without thinking was more irreplaceable than anything else. Tasty food was great.

By the moment I was done with my very-IQ-lacking monologue of “thank you, o ramen; o ramen, thank you”, there was only a little bit left of the contents of my bowl. Still eating the green onion ramen without a sound, Richard looked at me with upturned eyes from his bended posture. Those blue eyes made me seriously wonder if there weren’t gemstones inserted in them.

“Hey, you got a moment?”

“As you wish. Whatever you please.”

When I prefaced it with, “This is serious talk – super, super serious talk”, he made a face that screamed, “You’re being too long-winded”, so I went straight to the point.

“I didn’t think you’d actually come eat ramen with me.”

I hadn’t imagined that the day would come when I could eat a bowl of ramen for 450 yen at a historical, cozy ramen shop in the student town with this beautiful man who usually only wore suits. I hadn’t at all. Even now, another side of me was still tilting his neck somewhere within my mind, wondering about “how things came to this”.

Ever since around the time I had started working part-time in Ginza, I had no sense of reality. Not even about the fact that I would later be going to Sri Lanka. No, of course, I was fully ready and had a Visa, so I was in a phase where all I had left to do was get on the plane and I was making the oh-so-busy Richard help me out with that, but...

Richard took a sip of the salt-based soup with the china spoon, then glanced at me. “So you were not expecting anything from me, is that it?”

“No way. On the contrary.”

When I said that I just didn’t think he would give me the OK, Richard’s lips curved in the shape of an arc, and after looking for napkins on the table, he realized that there weren’t any, so he took a handkerchief from his pocket to wipe his mouth.

“I value the accuracy of your palate. It is obvious that, if you have a shop you like, I would want to try eating there.”

“Thank you. And for remembering about it too.”

Soon after I had started working part-time, I was introduced to a stone called chrysoprase. I once laughed my butt off when I learned that the etymology of the fresh green-colored stone included the meaning of “leek” or “green onion”. The topic then changed into ramen, and we, the shopkeeper and part-timer who subtly had not yet thrown off reserve with each other, talked about liking green onion ramen, what kinds of toppings we preferred, and other such things. I had kind of thought that “it’d be nice to go have ramen with this guy someday”. Back then, to me, Richard was someone as far-off as the moon and stars that shone in outer space. Of course, he was still as resplendent as the moon and stars even now, but he didn’t feel as distant.

Once I was done drinking the soup up to it’s last drop, I heaved a small sigh. “That was delicious. Last time eating Japanese ramen and this one for a while, huh.”

“How about putting instant ramen in your suitcase?”

“I ain’t used to making those. I’m the type that goes out to eat ramen rather than making instant ones. But there’s curry roux inside. Weird story, isn’t it? I’m going to a curry culture zone, yet I’m taking curry with me.”

“Analyzing Indian and Sri Lankan curry by Japanese curry standards can cause serious stomach problems. Beware.”

I puffed out my chest, saying that I had properly prepared myself for this because he had already told me about it before, to which the beautiful man gave a little sigh.

“May I also talk about a truly serious topic?”

When I told him that didn’t mind it at all and that I wanted to hear it, Richard looked at my face directly. It made me nervous. What was he going to tell me, I wondered.

“I did not think that you would actually invite me out for ramen.”

“Me?”

“Yes. I honestly did not.”

“Why?”

As I kept on tilting my neck at that sentence, which you wouldn’t think would come from someone like him – who looked like just breathing was enough for him to get invited to eat out –, Richard spoke to me reticently. He told me that people were quick to come towards him, but there were also those who surrounded him from a distance, watching him without trying to shorten the distance between him and themselves. So this kind of thing also happened?

Looking back, I was also from the keep-a-distance group at first. But I sucked at giving up, and whenever something that made me happy happened, I would be overjoyed no matter how many times I remembered about it, so every time I recalled the chrysoprase talk, I would find myself thinking that I should invite him out for ramen. It just so happened that the desire for this “someday” had amplified as the number of times that I thought about it increased, and I had finally voiced it this spring.

The shop was tiny and had a bit of a mysterious scent, but it was truly delicious. It would be closing this spring. I was concerned about what to do if he declined it with an awkward face, but the response I got after speaking up was a “When will it be?” without a moment’s delay.

“Was it okay to have invited you?”

“What do you think?”

“Well, I was just thinking I was glad that I invited you, but...”

The reply was a short-range smile. That slightly tired face with no sense of uneasiness to it was bad for the heart. But I was gonna get used to it. I had to.

“Still, was it really all right? That I was the one you had a meal with for the last time at a shop that you have fond memories of, I mean. Would it not have been better to do so with the friends that you always ate with?” Richard asked.

Hmm. So he was gonna bring that up, huh?

“Well, well, thank you very much for your superb consideration. But I’m glad it was with you.”

“Is that so?”

“I’m glad it was with you. Not anyone else; with you.”

I had learned many lessons even in just four years of university, such as that things were shifting, everything kept changing over and over, the green onion ramen shop would be gone, I would be leaving for Sri Lanka in the near future and there was no telling how my life was going to be from now on. But this jeweler was a man who knew very well how to cherish a memory.

Only to people like that did I entrust the things I didn’t want to forget.

Bidding a courteous farewell to the elderly shopkeeper and old lady employee, we exited the shop. Cars rushed on the Yasukuni Avenue. Kasaba during holidays was so quiet that it felt like a different world. As the wind softly blew, the cherry trees planted along the street shook and their pale pink petals scattered about.

“That was delicious, huh~. You got any plans for later?”

“I am going to help Saul with chores. We are not boorish enough to engage in business talk after just eating ramen.”

I stole a peek at his profile as he started chewing on a mint gum. The beautiful man brushed cherry blossom petals off his golden hair. He offered me one of the white gums, asking if I wanted to eat it.

I probably wouldn’t forget this sight. Even if that ramen shop was gone, even if my address was no longer in Tokyo.

Richard tilted his head a little, as I was still staring at his face even after accepting the gum. “Anything the matter?”

“Aah, sorry. Your beauty was like you’ve come from another world, so I spaced out.”

I then changed the topic, saying I was going to think about what to have for dinner or something. There were still lots of shops that I wanted to visit while I was still in Japan, though they were all set-meal and chain ones. I didn’t think I was able to hide my melancholy, but he’d probably act like he didn’t see anything. I was grateful for that.

In the middle of our walk to the train station, I looked back at the cityscape one last time and wordlessly offered a moment of silence to it.

Thank you for everything; I’m off!

[autumnleaves1991-blog]

Next One’s on You 3/5

A/N: Thank you so much for reblogging, commenting, and liking! I read them all and I really appreciate it. Let me know if you want to be added to a Taglist. This is my personal favorite chapter so far. :D 

Summary: A series of moments in the life of Maxwell Lord and reader centered around drinks. 

Pairing: Maxwell Lord x F! Reader

Warnings: 18 + for language 

Taglist: @josepedropascal @mrschiltoncat @ghostwiththemostbitch @mrsparknuts @oldstuffnewstuff @yespolkadotkitty @heythere-mel @justanotherblonde23 @artsymaddie @maxlordsgf @xjaywritesx

My Masterlist 

Chapter Two - Vodka Martinis 

Chapter Three: Orange Juice 

Our start was rocky. From the unwanted solicitation, throwing a latte in his face, the note, that horrible date with Tom, and being doused in freezing water. You really thought that things couldn’t get any more rocky. Until you met his mother. Mrs. Lord as she commanded you to call her, was a complete and total bitch. 

Coming in like a hurricane and leaving nothing but devastation in her wake. After that night you continued seeing Maxwell Lord. You’re first date he rented out an entire movie theater, and didn’t even pay attention to the movie, his face buried in your neck the whole night. Followed up by small dinners at his mansion, and late night drives in his blood red corvette, the top down, you curled up against his side after a long day at work. 

After each one of these dates his toxic mother would swoop into your work and threaten you with anything in her arsenal. How she could get you fired, lose your apartment, sue you for some insignificant thing, and each time you would kindly tell her to fuck off. But she wasn’t just going after you but Maxwell as well and her claws were deep into him. Preying on all his fears and insecurities that she had instilled in him from a young age. Whispering lies in his ear that she had you tailed and were cheating on him, just using him for his money, or worse trying to get a baby out of him so he would be paying you for eighteen plus years. 

Each time he would come to you and you would remind him something his traumatized brain forgot in those moments….how much you loved him. 

Yes, he was an egotistical, rich, asshole and that is what the world thinks of him. But you saw so much more than that. The way he would take off your sticky non-slip shoes and rub your feet after a long day at the shop, stinking of coffee grounds. How he would hold your hand and rubs circles with his thumb whenever he drove you somewhere. The way he would make love to you with such tenderness, the aftercare where he would clean you and hold you so close you could feel your heartbeats sync together. You were his deepest secret, proof to the world that Maxwell Lord had a heart. Although no one knew that. 

You sit on the couch with your ice cream watching TV. Maxwell had a charity gala this evening and you're watching the news coverage hoping to get a glimpse of him in his tux. You had given him a new pocket square for his birthday last week and he promised to wear it. You dip the spoon in and lift it up to your lips when it clatters back into the carton. You put it on the table and crawl on your knees closer to the TV. 

Maxwell Lord IV is being interviewed by a local reporter looking immaculate. Not a single strand out of place and smiling jovial as he answers the questions. But that isn’t what caught your attention...it’s the blonde woman on his arm. You recognize her instantly as a model on the cover of the magazine your roommate bought yesterday. She is gorgeous, thin, wearing a floor-length pale pink dress, and a diamond collar. Her hand rests in the crook of his elbow and he has one hand over her own. 

“Mr. Lord, is this your girlfriend?” the reporter buzzes. 

“Oh Kitty here?” he kisses the beautiful woman's cheek and she giggles, “No, she is just a good friend of mine, I don’t have time in my life for any serious relationships.” He smiles at the camera again and you notice the pocket square is a pale pink to match her dress and not the one you bought and you feel the ice cream sour in your stomach. 

You reach for the knob and turn off the television laying down on the floor looking at the small cracks in the ceiling. You recall the conversation about this gala replaying it over and over again in your head. 

“Do you want me to attend with you?” 

“No, it’s just some boring charity gala we have ten to fifteen a year. I wouldn’t want to bore you with having to endure that for an evening,” he adjusts his tie and smiles over at you laying in his bed. 

“I understand,” you nod leaning up to kiss him softly, “Are you...going with anyone?” 

“No. I haven’t been attending these things with anyone since you and I...since you and I,” his eyes soften as he sits on the edge of the bed, taking his hand in yours. “You know how much I love you darling, I just want to keep you all to myself. If I bring you to this gala the press are going to start asking questions and….I’m not ready to share you with the world yet.” 

You smile, tightening the grip on his hand, “As long as I don’t have to share you with anyone either.” 

“There is no one else, you’re it for me honey,” he pulls you in for another kiss and you sigh. 

Your heart shatters thinking of the model and how perfect she looked on his arm. She would be the perfect addition to Maxwell. The words of his mother seep into you and your self doubt begins to bloom. You shake your head and get off the floor, put the ice cream away, and go to bed. The heaviness of your heart dragging you to sleep. 

The next morning doesn’t get any better. Your usual good morning phone call with Maxwell never comes and you go to work and try to clear your mind, sure it’s nothing. When your lunch break comes and still no call or even show of him you call his work. His assistant tells you regretfully that he is in meetings all day and can’t be reached. The sick feeling in your stomach continues to grow and when you get off you decide not to wait around for him, catching a cab to his home. The whole staff knows you and greets you happily and the chef makes you a sandwich and listens to you babble about your day as she cleans up. 

The household quiets down for the night and when it hits eleven and he’s still not home you take off your clothes, put on one of his shirts and crawl into bed. Determined not to let him get away with ignoring you all day. The next morning you wake up early, having tossed and turned the whole night. But this time the bed isn’t empty. A warm arm is draped across your waist and his mouth is pressed against your head holding you close. You sigh and watch him sleep, his face free of worry as he dreams.

You carefully eject yourself from his arms and go into the kitchen starting the button on the coffee. It’s very early and the chef isn’t even here yet so you decide to make some breakfast for yourself and Maxwell. The difficult conversation may be easier over food. You get out the egg whites, onions, peppers, mushrooms, and cheese for omelets and get to work cooking. Halfway through turning on the small radio and dancing around the kitchen to some Beegees. You're almost done cooking, putting the omelets onto the plates and pulling out a carton of orange juice and pouring a glass. 

You hear a slight chuckle and whirl around to see Maxwell Lord IV in his grey sleep pants, white shirt, and wearing bright blue cookie monster slippers you had bought him as a joke since he has a secret affinity for cookies. “What are you doing honey?” he asks, gesturing to the mess. 

“I...I thought we could have breakfast together and...talk...we need to talk Maxwell.” 

He lowers his head and nods grabbing the plates and juice before setting them down at the small kitchen table. Usually he liked to eat in the grand dining room but the small eat in kitchen table was your favorite. He sits close to you and digs in groaning at the taste. “This is delicious.” 

You give a half hearted smile, taking a bite and putting down your fork, turning to him, “I saw your interview at the gala....why did you lie to me about not having a date?” 

He grimaces, “my mother surprised me,” he sighs, “I was getting dressed for the gala and she shows up with Kitty, throws your pocket square in the trash and pushes us into the limo with her. I get the feeling that Kitty didn’t have much choice as well, but we played the part. I never wanted to lie to you, I just didn’t have time to tell you.” 

“Then why ignore me all day yesterday? No call, no visit, and when I tried to call the office they said you were in meetings all day.” 

“I was in meetings all day and I am so sorry about not calling in the morning but I had to take care of something very important yesterday.” 

“What was it?” not taking no for an answer. “My mother,” he rubs a hand over his face, “I had breakfast with my mother...I told her that what she did the night before was unacceptable and that I wanted to be with you. Of course she spent the entire day arguing with me but I couldn’t give a care. And at the end of it all I told her she needed to choose. Either she accepts you and we move forward or she can forget that she has a son.” 

“Maxwell,” you beg, “why didn’t you call me? I could have gone with you, you shouldn’t have had to do that alone! What did she say?” 

“She told me if I wanted to marry that poor coffee shop bitch, then she would never speak to me again.” You're silent as you process his words. Marry…? 

He stands from the table and goes into the foyer of the house. You can hear him digging in his coat and he comes back with a tiffany blue box. He drops to one knee before you and tears sting in your eyes, rubbing at them furiously. 

“I told her goodbye and then went to pick up the ring from the jewelers, I ordered it three weeks ago,” he opens the box and you gasp at the princess cut diamond surrounded by sapphires. “I had this big proposal planned, candles, champagne, a string quartet, your favorite restaurant. But, when I woke up this morning and saw you in my shirt, dancing and cooking breakfast, I thought this was a much better time. Plus you know how impatient I am darling.” 

You let out a watery chuckle and nod in agreement. Allowing him to continue, “I want to be with you for the rest of my life. I want to bring you to every gala, show you off to the world, and every morning I want to wake up with you in my arms. Will you marry me?” 

“Yes,” you cry, “yes of course, I will marry you,” you're openly sobbing and he has tears streaming down his cheeks as he slides the ring onto your finger. Pulling you out of your chair and into his lap as he kisses you passionately. His hands running through your hair and holding you close. 

“Oh my,” the chef opens the door seeing you both on the floor in a passionate embrace and backs out. You laugh calling them back, “We’re engaged!” you shout and the chef and butler run into the room congratulating you both. Maxwell smiles at you and you beam back at him kissing him again. 

A loud knock sounds at the front door and the butler rushes out to answer. Returning a few moments later apologizing as Mrs. Lord slams open the door. “Maxwell!” she shrieks, and you groan holding on tighter to your fiancé who is rising to his feet and pushing you behind him, locking his hand within your own. 

“Mrs. Lord?” he asks, “If you want to speak with me you will need to schedule a meeting with my assistant.” You squeeze his hand in encouragement and watch as she gapes like a fish.  

“You can’t be serious?! You are seriously going to give up your mother for some cheap whore?!” 

He steps forward and growls, “She is not some cheap whore, this is my fiancé and you will never speak to her like that again. I am tired of being your punching bag, allowing your toxic words to seep into me. I will no longer allow you to control me, we are done. Now good day Mrs. Lord.” He tightens his grip. 

“Maxwell, you can’-” she stammers and is cut off when he yells raising his voice. 

“I said good-day! Get the hell out of our home, you are no longer welcome.” She tightens her grip on her Hermes handbag and straightens her Dior dress before glaring daggers at you. 

“This isn’t over,” she hisses and turns on her heel stomping out of the house. 

When the door slams shut behind her, the staff quickly leave you two alone and you hold him close in your arms. Leaning up to whisper in his ear, “I am so proud of you.” He sighs and holds you tighter, placing a kiss to your temple. “I couldn’t let her talk like that about you.  You are going to be my wife, and no one will ever disrespect you like that.” 

“You’ve really changed Maxwell, I think some of those things you said to me the first time we met,” you tease and he groans. 

“Despite our rocky start and how much of an utter asshole I was, I wouldn’t change a thing. Because it brought me to you. I love you sweetheart,” he kisses you gently. 

“I love you too. Do you...do you think she’s going to do something bad? She seemed very angry when she left.” 

“Whatever happens, we will face it together. She is a bitter old woman, what’s the worst she can do?” he holds you close to his chest and reaches down for his orange juice taking a large drink. “Let’s just focus on the next thing.” 

“What’s next?” you sigh taking the glass from him and taking a deep drink. 

“Planning the wedding of the century darling.” 

You cough loudly. Oh fuck what have you gotten yourself into now? 

Chapter 4- Champagne (check master list for link)

[newtonsheffield]

Would you have any headcannons about angsty Greg and Lucy fights?

Oh man, Lucy and Gregory angst? This hurts me because those two are the sunshine kids of my cinematic universe that being said, while they don’t fight often, they have had a few little tiffs and one all out fight. (It’s not a headcanon, it’s a Drabble, sorry).

The day had started out normally, Lucy reasoned, there was no reason for her to believe it would end so terribly. Except she had one of those feelings in the pit of her stomach that you sometimes get when you wake up that almost begs you not to get out of bed. But she had. And now she was here. Gregory had woken her with a kiss on the cheek, like he always did, and a broad smile and she’d gone about her morning routine just like always. She’d greeted Kate at the lift with coffee, just like always, but still something felt off. And then he’d come.

“Lucinda!” Lucy stiffened at the sound of her Uncle’s voice calling across her workplace, she hadn’t even known he was in town. Never a good sign, she felt herself frown, irritation at the use of her full name flaring a little. She looked up to see her Uncle Robert striding purposefully towards her, followed by a very tall, square jawed man, his blonde hair slicked back. Lucy groaned. She knew where this was going immediately.

“Uncle Robert.” Lucy said crisply when he’d finished his approach “I wasn’t aware you were in town, to what do I owe the pleasure?” She finished, smiling falsely. Robert Abernathy huffed,

“Perhaps, Lucinda if you saw fit to answer my phone calls once in a while, you would have had a little more notice.” He said testily, Lucy continued smiling, she had seen his messages, and deleted them.

“I didn’t receive any messages, Uncle Robert.” She said, crisply. Robert’s expression conveyed that he knew this was a lie, but he seemed to think it wasn’t worth the argument.

“Lucinda, this is Frederick Stevens, he’s the new Vice President of Advertising At Abernathy Media. We’re all going for lunch.” He said, Lucy sighed. Frederick Stevens grinned in a way she assumed he thought was charming, but made Lucy’s spine prickle.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you Lucinda.” He said, sticking his hand out. Lucy eyed it warily.

“I’m afraid you’ve had a wasted journey today, Frederick. I have a lunch meeting.” She said, her tone firm. Her uncle eyed her, unimpressed.

“I’m sure I can handle your boss, you’ll be coming with us.” He said, taking her arm and turning away. Lucy started to protest and suddenly an office door opened

“Hey, La la la Lucy Do you want to-” Gregory’s voice rang out through the office, pausing as he took in her uncle, gripping her arm tightly, his brow furrowing immediately. “Lucy is everything alright?” He said, squaring his shoulders, as he moved towards the small group. Lucy pulled her arm from her Uncle’s grasp.

“Everything’s fine, Greg.” She said quickly. Robert Abernathy sighed.

“Mr Abernathy.” Gregory said firmly, standing behind Lucy his arms crossed.

“Frederick, this is Gerald, a friend of my niece.” Robert said, his voice disdainful.

“Gregory.” Lucy said “and you know He’s my boyfriend, Uncle Robert. So I’m afraid whatever my uncle promised you, Frederick, is off the table.” She could feel irritation growing in her stomach at her Uncle’s dismissal of her life. Uncle Robert for his part, was unbothered. Frederick was starting to look a little uncomfortable

“Don’t worry Frederick, it’s not serious.” Robert said dismissively, looking at Gregory as he said, “She’ll get bored soon.” Lucy could feel Greg shrinking behind her. Lucy’s patience snapped

“It is serious, actually. We live together. And nothing you say is going to change that.” Lucy snapped, turning away and taking Gregory’s hand “We’re going to lunch Greg.” And she tugged him away.

Lucy had been watching Gregory closely all afternoon. As she’d taken his hand and tugged him to the car he’d barely smiled, barely said anything on the way home. It was unsettling to see Gregory, who usually filled her life with chatter and excitement so quiet, as he sat frowning in the kitchen, his arms crossed.

“Are you going to tell me what’s wrong or do I have to use a Jedi mind trick on you?” Lucy said lightly, wiping her hands on her apron. Gregory huffed.

“I’m fine, Lucy.” He said, bluntly, staring down at his hands. Lucy raised her eyebrow.

“Are you? I guess I’ve never seen you be fine before then.” Gregory sighed.

“Why are we still together?” The words seem to rush from him as though he hadn’t wanted to say them at all. Lucy froze, the knife she was using resting on the onion, but not cutting. Her eyes shot to Gregory.

“Greg, why are you asking me that?” She fought to keep her voice steady, panic rising a little in her chest. Gregory’s eyes flitted over her resting on the clock behind her.

“Forget it.” He said quickly. Lucy scoffed, irritation replacing the anxiety.

“Well, that’s not going to happen, you just asked me why we’re together.” Gregory froze at the sharp tone of her voice. “Greg can you just look at me please?” His eyes slowly flicked to hers. “If this is about my uncle, you know he just-” Gregory cut her off with a cold laugh

“Lucy, he hates me! He can’t stop telling you how useless I am and throwing men at you! How long do you think it will be before you listen?” His voice was like ice, sending a shiver down her spine. She felt cold, even as indignation rose in her.

“What exactly do you want me to do Greg?! I’ve told him so so many fucking times Greg. I’m not going to change my mind and he won’t listen!” Gregory flinched away from her shout and she instantly felt terrible. Even as anger clawed at her chest. His voice was uneven as he spoke, fighting to keep himself in check

“You’re so perfect all the time Lucy, I just wish I could believe that this wasn’t you just trying to prove your uncle wrong!” His voice rang through the kitchen. Lucy felt her mouth drop open, and Gregory’s own eyes widened as though his words had surprised him as well. Or maybe it was her reaction to them. Lucy felt tears prick in her eyes, biting her lip to hold them in.

“Well I don’t know Gregory, I guess we’re still together because I love you and that’s enough for me. And i guess I thought it would be enough for you too.” He looked as though he’d slapped her, she felt herself let out a choked noise and turned away dropping the knife, clattering against the chopping board. Before she’d even taken two steps, Lucy felt Gregory’s hand firmly on her arm, tugging her to turn her, pulling him tight against his chest. His eyes shining with tears, burned into hers.

“It is more than enough for me.” He said, dropping his forehead against hers, whispering I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry I love you. As both of their tears fell.

[morizoras-cave]

Praise Unheard Of

Jake Gyllenhaal x Teen!Co-star!Reader

Genre: fluff

Description: You and Jake have grown close while filming together for a new movie. You have a very jokey friendship, and you keep it lighthearted most of the time. Although, in a certain interview Jake mentions how much he admires you, and as someone who hasn’t heard that from anyone before, you can’t help but cry about it. 

Warnings: Parents who don’t express love for their child very well, feelings of not being good enough

(A/N): SMOOTHIE. BOWLS. get on it people.. also sorry if this is shit i just wrote this in like ten minutes at one am and i am NOT going to edit this shit, now excuse me while i watch LPS: the series

Halfway into the press tour for your new movie, you found yourself in England. You and Jake had already done countless interviews together, and you could hardly believe that you weren’t even close to being done. 

You were sitting in your hotel room, and it was almost dinner time. To celebrate the ‘halfway point to freedom’ (as Jake called it), you were going to dinner around six. You were just waiting at this point, lying on your bed with your phone in hand. 

You were on your undercover stan account, scrolling through Twitter. You saw many clips from your previous interviews, the little moments making you smile. 

@/gyllenhaaloffame:

THEIR FRIENDSHIP IS SO CUTE I MIGHT COLLAPSE

You had grown quite close with Jake while filming. You didn’t expect to, but Jake was just such a kind soul. You two joked around a lot, and had a very brother-sister-like relationship. You sincerely appreciated his help and guidance, both in acting and in fame. 

You scrolled further down your feed, giggling as you knew these dorks would never know that you saw all their cringy, although cute tweets. 

@/marvelgarbagedisposal:

OMG LISten to what jake said about y/n in his solo interview!! whos cuttin onions??

Your brows furrowed. You didn’t know anything about any solo interviews. There was a video attached, and you clicked it curiously. 

“What was it like working with Y/n?” the interviewer asked. You felt your heartbeat speed up. It was stupid, but you wondered, for a moment, whether he actually liked you. Jake seemed to think about it. 

“Y/n is incredible. And I mean that! Both in acting, she is simply amazing, especially for her age. And also I just think she’s a really great human being. You know, I tell her all the time, that she’s very intelligent and understanding, but she’s not a very serious person. She mostly laughs off all of my compliments.” 

“Really?” 

“I couldn’t have asked for a better partner in crime for this movie. She really is such a talented, kindhearted young actor.”

You immediately turned off your phone, and clutched it to your chest. You felt tears prick your eyes, and your entire being swelled with pride. You scoffed, tears falling down the sides of your face. 

No one ever told you that. Back home, all anyone ever did was doubt you. In your dreams, your intelligence, your character. No one had ever said anything like that to you. Ever. 

You were just shaking on the bed, tears flowing out of your eyes, and you certainly forgot the time, because in the middle of your sniffles, a knock came from the door. 

You froze. 

“Y/n, it’s Jake!” 

You stood up, wiping your tears furiously, wondering desperately what to do. “Uh, coming!” 

You walked over to the door, held the handle, let go of it, took it again, let go, and then finally took it again and turned it, opening the door for Jake. 

“Hey, N/n- Woah!” he stepped back, seeing your red eyes. Your lips made a thin line, stepping outside to ignore any and all problems. 

“What happened? Are you okay?” Jake gently placed a hand on your shoulder, lowering himself to your eye level. His eyes were full of concern. You smiled, now knowing that there was so much more meaning to his concern, and that he actually really cared about you. 

“I’m good,” you said. He looked puzzled, and you honestly couldn’t blame him.

“But you’ve cried.”

“Yeah,” you attempted to continue walking, but Jake grabbed your elbow, apparently wanting to know what was wrong. You blushed at the thought of telling him. It was stupid. “It’s nothing to worry about.” 

“It is, if it made you cry!” Jake protested, and looking in his eyes, you realized he wasn’t going to let this go. You sighed, and looked around. You never knew when Paparazzi were around.

“Let’s go inside then.” You mumbled, opening the hotel room door. He followed inside sheepishly. You walked over to your bed again, and sat down on the edge. He sat down next to you. You took a deep breath.

“It’s just.. I was on Twitter and I saw a video of you saying, that you.. I don’t know, that you thought I was talented and kindhearted, or whatever.. It’s just.. No one really says that to me.. So, it meant a lot. That’s why I cried,” You confessed. A weight was lifted from your chest and you breathed a sigh of relief. You avoided Jake’s eyes. He looked as if he was considering your words. 

“No one says you’re talented or nice?” he asked slowly. You shook your head. 

“What a bunch of losers..” he mumbled. You giggled quietly. “I mean, they should be telling you that every damn day! Because you are, you know? You’re a little nugget of gold in society. That’s what you are. A nugget.” 

You broke into a full-on laughter, and Jake’s eyes followed you, happy to have consoled you. He seriously couldn’t understand how such a talented young girl could exist, and how no one could acknowledge that every moment they had the chance. That’s why from then on, Jake made sure to compliment you, and let you know when you’d done good just to boost your self confidence, and because you simply deserved to know. You tried to let him know, but then it got all mushy, and you stopped because it was too gross. 

[lala-ladybug]

Healing Hands: Chapter 7

Little bit of a filler, but we’ve got some fun shenanigans in store! >:)

Jasonette Sword Art Online AU

Read here on AO3

Chapter 7: Guys bein’ dudes indeed

Tag list: @iloontjeboontje

First | Previous | Next

Marinette was up early again. She found herself some breakfast, then went to the stables. The Order had made it back late last night, so they didn’t have time to groom the horses. She entered the first stall and started to brush the first horse. The routine motion let her mind drift, and she thought back to the events of the past few weeks.

Marinette, Kagami, and Luka embarked on their daily ritual of collecting the morning paper from town. It was the day after they’d beaten the first boss, which they had reported anonymously. Marinette and Adrien had agreed that taking the credit would only serve to draw unwanted attention towards their group, which could put them and the rest of their friends in danger.

But it apparently had another unforeseen advantage. As Marinette paid for the newspaper that highlighted their victory, she heard comments from other players around her.

“Are you serious? Some party went rogue and beat the first dungeon on their own?”

“Selfish assholes, can’t believe they got all that loot to themselves.”

“Well I think it’s good that we’re making progress!”

“Yeah, if you ignore the fact that they didn’t tell us what it was like at all, so now we haven’t got a clue how to face the next one.”

She shook her head in disbelief and glanced at her companions, who looked similarly concerned. They hadn’t even considered that the other people might not want them to take up the battle alone. Or that last comment, that they were actually hurting the other players by not giving them the chance to fight too.

The three remained quiet until they returned to Chloe’s house, or the manor, as they’d taken to calling it. By then, Adrien and Chloe were awake, and followed without question as Marinette ushered the two to join her, Kagami, and Luka out by the well.

She told them what the people in town had said, Luka and Kagami jumping in with additional comments they’d heard from passersby, and they talked it over. Maybe it was worth fighting with other groups. It would certainly beat the first boss.

They decided to try working with others for the next dungeon, but to lead the battle so that the civilians would stay as safe as possible. There were already groups in town recruiting for it and people exploring the second level, so it couldn’t be too long before they found the next fight. They’d be ready this time, they thought.

Less than two weeks passed before they were ready to take on the second dungeon. The Order had spent the whole time training and leveling up. There was hardly a moment where they weren’t fighting monsters or sparring with each other. They became almost more adept with their new weapons than they were with their ones from the real world. Those days of miraculous encounters seemed a lifetime ago.

The Order made preparations with other groups of players, determining strategy and planning to play to each others’ strengths. All the parties assembled at the dungeon and set up to fight the boss.

All things considered, it could have gone much worse. The support teams kept all the fighters’ HP high, and they had whatever cover they needed whenever they needed it. The battle was significantly shorter with around forty players there. But when the other players got hit....

Marinette could still hear the screams of the civilians as they went down. The blood oozing from their wounds was so very lifelike, and there was no cure to sew them shut. Or bring them back if they fell.

Kagami and Adrien were focused on taking what would have been killing blows if the boss had struck anyone but them. Chloe and Marinette drew fire away from the other players, and Luka used his mace and shield to defend his fellow healers. But Marinette saw the pained look on his face at being separated from the rest. She relived the moment Kagami and Adrien went down while fighting the first boss in frequent nightmares, and she knew Luka did too. The two of them had shared a few too many late-night cups of tea while avoiding sleep.

They won the battle, but there were so many wounded, so many close calls. One look at her Order and she knew they felt as lost as she did. Was it worth it? The thought seemed to echo through each of their movements as they returned to the manor.

“Marinette?” Alya’s call shook her out of her daze. She looked down at her hands and saw that she’d finished brushing the last of the horses. Putting the brush away, she returned to the main space in the downstairs of their home.

Home. She supposed that’s what it was now, but it didn’t feel like it. The design of it was very cozy, there was no doubt about that. But she saw it as little more than a place to eat and sleep. There were far more important things she could be doing, sitting down to relax was out of the question.

“There you are,” Alya grinned from the kitchen. “Feels like I haven’t seen you in days!” She carried a simple charcuterie board into the living/dining area and placed it on the table. Nino, Adrien, Lila, Alix, Nathaniel, and Luka were already sitting in the various couches and chairs gathered around it.

“We were just about to have a snack and play some cards,” Alya said over her shoulder as she used a poker to encourage a small fire in the hearth. “You should join us, girl!”

Marinette’s gut response was to refuse, and she waved her hands and made excuses but Luka and Adrien got up and marched her over to sit next to them. “C’mon Buginette, you need this,” Adrien said quietly in her ear. Luka just gave her a meaningful look.

Over-protective mother hens.

She sighed and gave in. One afternoon of cards couldn’t hurt.

Nathaniel was on her other side. While Alya dealt out the cards, Marinette asked him, “How’s the garden coming along?”

His face lit up with a quiet joy. “It’s going great! I don’t know if the weather is going to change, but the onions are taking nicely!” She listened with a small smile on her face as he went on about the different crops he was planting in the garden. He’d really stepped up to grow the bulk of their food, and seemed to genuinely enjoy spending his days taking care of the plants.

She was glad that he could still talk freely to her, even in the game. They’d always been close and it was nice to see his artistic spirit was unbothered by... everything.

Adrien nudged her to play her turn, and she did so quickly. Across from her, Alix and Nino were laughing at something Lila had said, and Alya sat up proudly with a comment that made them laugh even harder.

On Adrien’s other side, Luka had his hands of cards facedown on his lap while he strummed a lute he’d bought the other day. The pleasant melody lifted her spirits and reminded her of happier times.

This is what she was fighting for, she realized. For Nathaniel to take pride in his art, for her dear friends to laugh, and for Luka to play his music. She blinked away the tears that rose in her eyes. This is what was worth fighting for.

Even if she couldn’t bring herself to sew, to create like she used to love doing. Here she just had to be Marinette the friend or Marinette the fighter. It was almost easier, having less to manage. And yet... she couldn’t feel that same joy for herself that she found so precious to her friends. Not until they were all home again. She couldn’t let herself.

* * *

Jason trudged into the base, pack digging into his shoulder with all the loot he’d recovered. He’d spent the past few days camping and level-grinding, which was apparently the correct term for it. He couldn’t even remember what Dick had said to set him off, but he needed to be on his own for a while. The woods were surprisingly peaceful, and he found the time spent by himself in nature to be refreshing.

“Hey.” Dick sounded pissed. The hell was his problem? Jason wasn’t even back long enough to do anything. Jason turned on his heel and raised his eyebrows. “What?”

Dick thrust a newspaper into his hands in response. He folded his arms, clearly expecting Jason to read it right then and there. Jason sighed loudly and slung his pack off. He turned his attention to the paper in his hand.

“Coalition of over forty players defeats second dungeon,” he read aloud. Shit.

“Just thought you should know,” Dick said in his I told you so voice. “When you went on your little adventure, you missed the next boss fight.”

Oh, now he remembered why he left! Because his “brother” is an asshole. “My little adventure was to get experience and level up,” he glared at Dick. “Which is still doing something more productive than just sitting on my fuckin’ hands.”

Dick’s nostrils flared. Good, he was itching for this conversation. “We are not doing nothing. We need more time to practice with the gameplay. Hell, Gar still tries to shift when we spar!” He threw up his hands in frustration. “We’re nowhere near ready yet, Jay.”

“You know, there’s more to this game than fuckin’ sparring.” Jason retorted.

Dicks brows shot up. “Oh, that’s rich coming from the guy who so desperately wants to get back to our lives that he runs off on his own.”

“I can’t stand being cooped up in this damn house all the time! Just because we’re stuck in this game doesn’t mean we have to stop living,” Jason shook his head. “We’ve already been in here for over a month, who’s to say how much longer it’ll be? We can’t just put our fuckin’ lives on hold the whole time.”

“Training to beat the game isn’t putting our lives on hold,” Dick rolled his eyes. “This place is a death trap in case you forgot. We need to train to get our lives back.”

This idiot just didn’t get it. “Oh sure, and in the meantime we can’t have any happiness or fun. Sounds pretty miserable to me.” He picked up his pack. “You can level up without training at all hours of the fuckin’ day, no matter what a certain black-haired, blue-eyed bastard says.”

Jason stormed out the door, bumping into Garfield on his way back outside. The kid stumbled backwards before pointing finger guns at him. “Nice alliteration!”

He ignored him and kept walking down the path that led into town.

“Hey, hey wait a minute!” Seriously kid? He heard that argument with Dick but still couldn’t take the fuckin’ hint.

Garfield caught up to him and said, “You know, for someone who was supposed to have a relaxing vacation, you sure look tense.”

“Fuckin’ excuse me?” Jason growled.

“Wh-what I mean is you’re probably looking for a way to burn off some steam!”

This was getting old. “Get to the point, kid.”

“On the third level, there’s a quest we can do to make our own guild!” Garfield bounced excitedly, keeping pace next to him. Well, a quest would certainly help get this new brotherly stress out of his system. “We want you to join us, pleeeeaaaase?”

“Hold up, who the hell is us?”

Garfield grinned at him. “Oh you know, just a couple of the guys.”

They’d reached a junction in the path that led to the main road. Waiting beneath the tree beside the signpost were Roy, Jaime, and Bart. The ex-speedster waved excitedly while Roy looked about as pleased to be here as Jason did. They got along swimmingly.

“Hey dudes, everyone cool if Jason joins us?” Garfield reached out to pat his back then hesitated as he thought better of it.

Jaime shrugged while Bart gave an enthusiastic thumbs up. Roy gave him a pitying look, like he’d been dragged into it too.

“Fine.” Jason muttered to no one in particular. “Are we heading out now?”

The other four got their things together. Jaime sent out party invites to everyone to better keep track of each other, which Roy and Jason reluctantly accepted. Garfield pulled up a pamphlet and started leafing through it. Jason spied the title, The Good Adventurer’s Guide to Guilds. Lovely.

“Alright,” Garfield snapped the papers shut and started walking down the path into town. “Let’s go to level three and get this bread!”

Roy narrowed his eyes. “The quest is to retrieve some bread?” He asked incredulously.

“Well, no but yes! But no. Man, we gotta teach you slang,” Bart slung an arm around Roy’s shoulders. The latter pushed him off and Jaime sped up his pace to plant himself as a buffer in between them as they walked.

Dumbasses.

The walk into town was easy, and they used the teleportation kiosk in the town square to get to the third level without a hitch.

The third level had some more interesting terrain than the plains of the first and second levels. Cliffs and quarries dotted the landscape in front of them. The main town itself was built onto a cliff, a gaping valley splayed out before them with minute details.

“Oh wow,” Garfield said. “This reminds me of that one town in France where--”

“Don’t care. Let’s move.” Roy cut him off and stalked down the winding road that would take them down into the valley. Jason smirked and followed suit.

Garfield made a face, then followed them along with the others. He pulled out his pamphlet again, then pointed them in the direction of the quest. Some quarry worker NPC wanted help collecting materials. If they got him everything on his list, he would apparently grant them the rights to start a guild? It made less and less sense as Gar read aloud from the paper.

They trekked on for a few hours, easily hacking apart the common monsters they came across. Between Jason and Roy, the others hardly had time to draw their weapons before the threats were gone.

“What’s better than this?” Garfield put an arm around Jason and Bart’s shoulders. Jaime grinned and put his arms around Bart and Roy. “Guys bein’ dudes!” He finished.

Roy, Bart, and Jason exchanged mystified glances. Roy and Jason had been out of the loop for roughly the same period of time, and Bart had told them before that not much of contemporary pop culture had survived into his future.

Guys bein’ dudes indeed.

Between the five of them, gathering the listed materials and getting them to the worker by sundown was easy. Well, it was easy for most of them.

“You look like a mess, ese!” Jaime exclaimed, seeing a very sticky and scratched-up Garfield. He groaned and replied, “Had to get tree sap. Trees fought back....”

Well, that served the little shrimp right, Jason thought to himself. He and Roy had been collecting gemstones, which could be mined out from the caves littered throughout the floor... or the infinitely more fun way of killing giant gemstone monsters. Take a wild fuckin’ guess which one they chose.

Jason was actually pretty content with the levels he’d gained from the quest. Not to mention getting his excess anger out from talking to Dick. It seemed like whenever he went to the house, there was always some type of disagreement between the two.

Damn. Maybe he should start saving for his own house.

His party currently stood in line at the guild registration office, also located on the third level. The setting sun cast a golden glow over the valley, highlighting the small clusters of houses dotting the countryside.

“Oh crap,” Garfield suddenly said. He danced nervously on his feet. “We did the whole quest, but I forgot the most important thing!”

Roy looked at him sharply. “What’s wrong?”

“We need a name for our guild!” Garfield wailed, clutching his hands to his head.

Seriously? Roy scoffed, “Why not just Justice League?”

Jaime rounded on him. “Are you nuts, ese? We can’t go around calling ourselves the Justice League. Secret identities and all that.”

Garfield paced in line, clearly thinking hard. “Hmm, justice. Juuuuustice. Just-ice. Just ice! Hey, we could do something with that!” He exclaimed.

Jason rolled his eyes. “Yeah that’s great,” he said, sarcasm dripping from his voice. “How about On the Rocks.”

Bart put a hand on his chin, looking thoughtful. “Well, we should add a little pizzazz to it, don’t you think?”

“I’ve got it! Rocky Road!” Garfield threw his hands in the air triumphantly. God this kid was excessive.

Jaime and Bart, after the former had explained it to him, voiced their approval. Roy and Jason looked at each other and silently commiserated over their unfortunate situation.

Rocky Road it was.

* * *

“Ugh, that was way harder than it needed to be.” Alya slumped over her battle axe.

Marinette giggled and offered her friend some water. “Well, a ton of other people are starting guilds too! So I guess there are limited resources for a while.”

Nino took the water from Alya after she’d finished with it. He drained it and looked heartbroken until Adrien handed him a new bottle.

The four of them had decided to team up and do the quest to establish a guild. Not everyone in the guild needed to attend the quest to establish one. So when Alya and Nino had approached Marinette and Adrien, asking if the original friend group could be the ones to do it, they couldn’t say no.

“Well, I just wish Marinette had told us about the quest sooner. Then we could have had an easier time!” Lila simpered, sweet as ever. Oh yeah, Lila had invited herself to come along too.

“Weren’t you also a beta tester?” Adrien frowned innocently.

Lila blinked, looking startled. “Oh yes! But you know about my memory issues. I really wish I could remember all these things to help us out,” she sighed dramatically. Typical.

“So!” Marinette decided to move that conversation right along. “We need a name for our guild. Got any ideas?”

Nino rubbed his arm. “Actually dudes, I’ve been thinking of a name for a while.”

“Oh? Let’s hear it!” Adrien smiled and nudged his best friend’s arm.

“Well, I was thinking we could be called Miracle Workers,” Nino began. Marinette traded a look of alarm with Adrien. “You know, because Alya and I used to be miraculous holders? And I thought it’d be kinda nice to honor Chat Noir, Ladybug, and the other heroes. We could use some of their strength right about now.” Oh, that was actually really sweet of him. Marinette offered Adrien a soft smile.

Alya looked at him fondly. Adrien, with a slight nod of approval from Marinette, gave him a side hug and said, “I think that’s a wonderful name.”

Lila tapped her chin. “I don’t know, workers seems a little odd to me. We’re more like leaders or executives.”

“Well, I think Miracle Workers is perfect, babe.” Alya leaned in to peck Nino on the cheek. “Let’s go with that.”

First | Previous | Next

[nour386]

Meeting the not Heroic Family

My submission for @pinesconessecrets as the santa of @mothmanfactkin, His prompts included super hero au and awkward dinner. So I combined them together into one massive fic. I hope you enjoy this because I enjoyed writing this. (Also on Ao3!)

"Dipper, I'm not sure about this," Wirt tightened his grip on his boyfriend's hand.

"It'll be fine!" Dipper awkwardly bumped Wirt with his elbow. "They don't need to know that I'm dating the legendary 'Spirit of the Plants'."

"Dipper this is serious." Wirt said. "If your Uncle is half as smart as you say he is, he should be able to figure out my identity in an instant."

"Don't worry about that, we have your cover story remember?" Dipper grinned, "a humble library part timer fresh out of college, looking for work. It'd cover most of our bases."

Wirt didn't look convinced. He bit his lip and looked away. His mind raced with all the ways this evening could go wrong. A villain somehow reconsigning him, and attacking them through the window. A giant monster bursting through the ceiling, crushing everyone and splattering the walls with their blood. Or worst of all, his boyfriend's uncles deciding that he was a bad influence. Cutting his time with Dipper short.

"Hey, look at me." Dipper pinched Wirt's cheek making the lanky man wince.

"What was that for?" Wirt rubbed his cheek.

"You were doing that thing where you panic and over think everything and worry that the end of the world will come about because you dropped a spoon." Dipper rolled his hand as he spoke.

"There was no apocalypse this time." Wirt said in a small voice.

"That's not the point Pilgrim." Dipper sighed. He placed both his hands on Wirt’s shoulders. "I know you're worried, and in truth, I am a little as well; but nothing helpful is going to come from sitting here and stewing in our sweat. Let's go take this thing down together."

Wirt took a deep breath, and let himself be held by Dipper. The weight of his hands on his shoulders helped ground the young man. He looked into his boyfriend’s eyes and gave a small smile. 

“I think. I'll be fine.” Wirt said slowly.

“I’ll be with you every step of the way.” Dipper smiled.

The pair made their way down the long walk up to the mystery shack. Normally Dipper would have insisted on flying the pair over, but decided that letting Wirt get excited over the natural beauty of Gravity Falls might help him calm down enough to face his uncles. That judgement worked out swimmingly in his favour as Wirt awkwardly asked to stop every few minutes to observe some flower or shrub that he didn’t quite recognise. 

“I know you said the town was bustling with the unknown, I didn’t think that would include plants.” Wirt carefully touched the leaf of a shrub. 

“Is a small bush that impressive?” Dipper squated next to Wirt to observe the plant. The stem looked like it was covered in red polka dots. 

“Look! This shrub adapted its stem to look like it's covered in red ants to avoid being eaten!” Wirt said in an excited voice. He gave the leaf at the tip of the stem a small poke and gave a small twitter of delight as the stem curled up perfectly to make the polka dots look even larger. 

“Huh, I never noticed that.” Dipper taped his chin.

“Probably because you spent the better part of your time running for your life.” Wirt tapped a nearby tree. A sturdy branch grew out, just high enough along the trunk to help him stand up without groaning. “Thank you.” He whispered to the tree.

“You know, for a superhero you sure do use your powers haphazardly.” Dipper teased. He stood up, and led the way to the shack.

“You’re just jealous that your yearbook photo this year was captioned ‘plant killer’.” Wirt smirked,   following Dipper along the path.

“I told all of our friends to not get me house plants as gifts. But they never listen.” Dipper threw up his hands in exasperation. “I can hardly take care of myself. You think I can take care of a plant?”

“Thank your lucky stars that I didn’t decide to incarcerate you for crimes against greenery.” Wirt said.

“That’s not a thing and you know it Mr.’Hero’.” Dipper punched Wirt’s arm.

“Well it might be!” Wirt shot back. “And now the charge has changed to battery.”

“Oh no. how could you have stopped my dastardly crimes.” Dipper rolled his eyes.

“Who’s talking about crime?” came a gruff voice.

The pair looked ahead to find an older looking man. Greying hair that lay flat on his head, a red nose and square jaw. He wore a serious expression, his face behind his square glasses was twisted into a serious scowl as he looked at the two young men. 

“I-uh no-one Sir.” Wirt squeaked. 

Dipper on the other hand rolled his eyes. “Why? You want a cut of the goods?” “You’re damn right.” The old man smirked. 

“I wha-” Wirt looked between them.

“Are you sure you’d want to be associated with horrible criminals like us?” Dipper asked. “Wouldn’t want the press to find out and cause another scandal.”

“Those paparazzi cronies will swarm after anything. It’ll blow over in less than a day.” The old man chuckled.

“What?” Wirt tilted his head.

Dipper grinned. “Wirt, this is my Great uncle Stan, retired hero and ever active conman.” 

“Hero?” Wirt stared at the man. His mind raced to put a mask to the face.

“Autographs cost 50 and pictures with me are 100.” Stan gave a showman’s grin. “Keep in mind that those prices are mutually exclusive.”

“And if you want him in costume you’d be footing the tailor’s bill.” Dipper elbowed Wirt.

“Wait, who were you?” Wirt asked.

“Who was I? Who was I?” Stan looked as though he had the wind knocked out of him. “What kind of cave dweller did you bring to my house?”

Dipper rolled his eyes at Stan’s theatrics. He was well used to his uncle’s inflated ego about his hero career. Wirt on the other hand found difficulty picking up on Stan’s very subtle hints at playing a bit. He felt his stomach sink to his feet as the man’s voice grew in volume, his life flashing before his eyes as he tried to figure out which hero this angry looking man could have been. 

“Grunkle Stan, tone it down, you’re going to give him a heart attack.” Came a sweet as sugar voice from inside the shack. A young lady with her hair done in a long braid opened the mesh door and punched Stan in the arm. Aside from rosy cheeks and the lack of a beard, her face was identical to Dipper’s. It didn’t take long for Wirt to recognise his boyfriend’s twin sister, Mabel. 

She turned to Wirt and gave a warming smile. “Sorry about this old grump. He thinks his comedy routine should double as a horror show.” 

“It’s only horror if they’re too sensitive.” Stan rubbed his arm. 

“You promised Dipper you’d play nice while Wirt was visiting.” she crossed her arms.

“I also promised your uncle Shermie that I wouldn’t let you do any hero work while staying over. And look how that turned out.” Stan rolled his eyes.

“Stopping someone from stealing a car isn’t hero work.” Mabel shot back. 

“Sorry about Stan,” Dipper muttered under his breath. “He’s just jealous that his hero career was cut.” 

“Jealous?” Wirt stared at Dipper. “You said you didn’t tell them anything”

“He’s jealous of your youthfulness” Dipper squeezed Wirt’s shoulder. He leaned in close to whisper into his ear. “I haven’t told them a thing, I promise.”

“So he’s not mad?” Wirt clarified. 

“Nope, just a really bad comedian.” Dipper smiled.

Wirt closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He held onto Dipper’s hand to ground himself. It took a couple of moments but he felt his heart rate slow down. 

“Hey, is the kid okay?” Stan called from the porch. Wirt could hear the audible smack of Mabel’s fist against Stan’s meaty arms, followed by a hushed. “Ouch!”

“Ready to go in?” Dipper asked patiently, ignoring his relatives and their antics.

“I think so yes.” Wirt opened his eyes and gave a weak grin. 

***

The pair had wanted to spend the wait for dinner in the living room, enjoying the terrible public access television that Gravity Falls had to offer. However, Stan had other plans. Apparently Dipper’s second Grunkle, Ford as Stan called him, had failed to arrive in time to help like he had agreed. And now the couple were forced into the kitchen to help with dinner preparations. 

“Honestly you don’t need to help too much.” Dipper insisted as he kept an eye on the bubbling stew.

“I don’t mind. It’s nice to see the shack you talk so much about.” Wirt smiled. He carefully peeled an onion before dicing it. Dipper could have sworn the onion grew plumper when he handed it to Wirt.

“So he talks about this place huh?” Stan looked over his shoulder and away from his chopping board. “Better be talking about how great it was.”

“Oh but of course.” Dipper rolled his eyes. “The 5 star accommodations, and food to match? How could I complain?”

“Didn’t you say that the walls were riddled with splinters?” Wirt asked.

“They add character!” Stan insisted. He banged his fist on to the chopping board, launching sliced up carrots into Dipper’s bubbling pot.

“And a surprising amount of fiber.” Dipper said. He placed a lid on the pot. 

“What?” Wirt looked at Dipper. 

“The kid chews just about anything. I’m surprised his power wasn’t something like eating anything.” Stan said, he took the onion slices from Wirt and poured them into a pan with some oil.

“I don’t think that’d be very fitting.” Wirt said. 

“Oh? And why’s that?” Stan snapped his fingers, summoning a small flame at the tip of his finger, which he then used to ignite the stove. He raised an eyebrow as he stared at Wirt. Challenging him to back up his claim.

Wirt could feel his stomach twisting under the gaze of the older man, but a gentle hand on his shoulder helped the practising hero ground himself. He took a deep breath and put on what felt like a confident grin. “Well, for one thing Dipper would need an appetite for such a power to be useful.”

There was a beat, Wirt held his breath, expecting some snide remark about how he didn’t know what he was talking about. Instead, Wirt watched as Stan slapped his knee in laughter. The old man’s wrinkled face lifted with glee as his hoarse laugh filled the shack. He accidentally knocked over the pan he had just put on the stove. 

Acting quickly, Wirt grew a strong vine from the flowers on the window sill, easily catching the pan.

“And here I thought you were all talk about him being a smart alec!” Stan grinned. He clapped a hand on Wirt’s back.

“Thank you?” Wirt looked to Dipper for help.

His boyfriend gave him a small smile and a thumbs up. “Told you he could hold his own.”

“He still looks scrawny as hell.” Stan pulled his pan out of the vine’s grasp. “Pretty good with his powers. You sure he ain’t some mask behind your back?”

“Grunkle Stan, Wirt would never lie to me like that.” Dipper frowned. He looked disgusted at the suggestion.

“Not many regular people are quick enough to catch something that fast. Especially with powers they don’t use regularly.” Stan said.

“I do use my power often.” Wirt said honestly.

“And what does a librarian need chloromancy for?” Stan asked.

“It helps me put away books faster.” Wirt said. “Not to mention I had a very excitable younger brother. If I wasn’t keeping an eye on him, there was no telling how much trouble he’d get in.”

Dipper held his breath as he watched his Uncle’s reaction. The old man eyed Wirt up and down, before shrugging and moving back to his cooking. “Jeez you really are dating a goody two shoes, aren’t you?” 

“You know me. Can’t help but stick to the rules.” Dipper said with an awkward chuckle.

“Only when it suits you.” Stan remarked. “Now toast the bread, I didn't bring you in here to play 20 questions.”

***

‘Ford’ was still nowhere to be seen, but the family had decided to start dinner without him. 

“If he thinks I’m going to wait for him to eat then he’s got another thing coming.” Stan said. 

With the use of his plant powers, Wirt was able to set the table rather quickly. He wondered why Mabel hadn’t been asked to help, but when he saw several burn marks hidden under the table cloth, he realised the risk the ever glitter throwing Mabel could be to the kitchen. It wasn’t long before the table had been set and all food was served. The three Pines and Wirt sat together at the table, enjoying the delicious food. The sound of clinking plates filled the air.

All was peaceful until a loud crash came from the living room, followed by an angry shout.

“Stanley what did you do to my mirror!”

Stan didn't get up from his seat, in fact he  acted as though he didn’t hear what had just transpired. Wirt remembered seeing the old man reach for his ears before they began eating. ‘Perhaps he turned off his hearing aids?’.

Dipper gave Wirt a smile. “We’re in the kitchen Grunkle Ford!”

Wirt turned to the doorway just in time to see a man with a similar face to Stan’s but with a much deeper cleft in his chin and much poofier hair. He wore a trench coat and red sweater over black dress pants. His clothes were scuffed and were burnt in multiple places. To the untrained eye it would have looked like the man had run wildly through the woods from some kind of monster. However Wirt was familiar with markings like those that were all over Ford’s clothing. They were from stray bullets that had nicked his clothing, narrowly avoiding him. 

“Stanley, what was the big idea with putting my mirror behind the couch!” Ford marched right up to his twin, his face red with rage.

Stan lazily looked up at Ford, his mouth full of mashed potatoes. He raised a finger and swallowed his food. “I can’t hear anything you're saying Sixer.” Stan pointed to the kitchen counter, where his hearing aids sat, keeping him deaf to the world around him.

“You knucklehead! I almost got crushed!” Ford reached to punch Stan, but he was stopped by Dipper. The young man had jumped out of his seat and grabbed a hold of Ford’s arm. Dipper also summoned a vine from the window sill to keep his uncle restrained.

“Grunkle Ford, I’m really happy you’re back in one piece. I was hoping to introduce you to my boyfriend, Wirt.” Dipper said. He nonchalantly gestured to Wirt.

“Ah, yes. I had forgotten we had guests.” Ford’s cheeks turned red as he collected himself. “I apologise for my outburst. I’m usually much more composed. However, someone’s pettiness has affected that.”

“Still deaf as a post.” Stan pointed to his large ears. His mouth full of half eaten stew.

Ford rolled his eyes and walked over to Wirt. The old man wiped his hand on his dark pants before offering a six-fingered hand shake. Wirt politely returned the gesture with a firm hand. But as the pair shook hands, a painful realisation dawned upon them both. 

“You…” They both breathed. Their eyes locked into one another. 

Before Wirt could say anything, Stanford ran out of the room, and out of sight. 

Stan, Dipper and Mabel stared at Wirt, all thinking the same question. Wirt could feel their eyes boring into his skull, so he stood up, and excused himself. The young man made his way to the bathroom, closing the door behind himself. He splashed his face with some cold water and breathed deeply. He looked at the mirror above the sink, screamed, and tripped back into the bathtub.

“Calm down!” Dipper whispered. He stepped out of the mirror.

“How did you-”

“I’ve been copying Grunkle Ford’s power for ages.” Dipper said. “Now, would you mind explaining what that was just now?”

“So, remember how I thought I never met your uncles and was worried about a bad first impression?” Wirt asked. His tone sounded jovial despite his rattled nerves. “Well I don't need to worry about that anymore.”

“When did you meet Grunkle Ford?” Dipper asked. He sat on the side of the bathtub.

“I was doing a nightly patrol of our campus. The security guards had asked for some help from the local hero guild. Someone was breaking in and taking the latest data found by the scientific teams. I was already on campus so the hero guild put me to the job.” Wirt said. He kept in his awkwardly sat position in the tub as he spoke. The shower curtain tangled with his long limbs. 

“So as I was walking around, I heard the guards calling for help, turned the corner and saw the tail coat of a man run down the hallway. ‘The light of the moon shone through the windows, guiding me through the dark to his eventual capture’. Is what I thought when I saw him turn down a dead end. But instead there was no one. There was the one way glass of the nearby lab door; but it was securely locked. The guards checked it anyway and found no one.”

“Right.” Dipper nodded along, tapping his chin.

“I walked along the floor, looking for any signs of the intruder; but alas he had slipped my grasp. The only person I found was one of the professors leaving after a late night at work. I had thought he was the intruder at first, since the first thing I saw were the tails of his coat, but it was a lab coat.” Wirt continued.

“But where does Ford fit into this?” Dipper asked.

“That professor dropped a roll of paper he was carrying. I thought it was some of his research, but when I reached down to pick it up. I noticed he had six fingers, which was not mentioned in the staff listings. And when I looked at his ID, it was a crudely faked card.” Wirt said. 

“Ooooh.” Dipper sucked in a breath. “And he realised you were the hero from that night?”

“There’s no way he didn’t.” Wirt said.

“Okay, things are messy, but, there’s nothing to worry about.” Dipper clapped his hands. “He knows that you know, but we don’t know he knows. So we can use this to our advantage.” 

“If he knows that we know, then he won’t try to deal with me to make sure I don’t blab?” wirt asked.

“But he can’t be sure that you know.” Dipper said. “As far as your story goes, you’re only a librarian. Just keep your cool and things should smooth over.”

“Considering how annoyed your Uncle Stan is, I doubt he’d want to cause too much more trouble.” Wirt said.

“Exactly.” Dipper smiled. “Now come on, dinner’s getting cold and trust me when I say you don’t want to fight Mabel for seconds.”

 Wirt watched as Dipper stood up offering his hand. The young man took a deep breath before accepting his boyfriend’s hand.

“That sounds lovely.” he agreed.

[flowerfan2]

David x Patrick, A03, 14k so far

Chapter 6 - Ireland

Although David managed to salvage the evening at Jake’s, his mood slumps again as soon as he leaves. Instead of showing Sebastien that he could be a worthwhile life partner, David once again went too far.  He’s always been too much for any of the men and women he’s tried to get close to.  

He’s not really sure when he started to think Sebastien would be any different.  None of his other exes could tolerate him for very long, so why would Sebastien want him to hang around?  And it’s not the first time that David was oblivious to how little a partner cared about him.  

But you did what he wanted, he thinks desperately.  Sebastien wanted someone serious, someone who was law school material, someone who would have a career that his parents would respect.  And David studied his ass off for the LSAT, and got creative about his application, and got into Harvard -- what else could he possibly have done to convince Sebastien that he’s worthy?

David ignores the very reasonable voice in his head that says nothing, there was nothing you could have done.   It’s too painful to admit that maybe Sebastien simply did not want him, David Rose, regardless of anything he might improve or change.  It means that David really is worthless.

The next day, David drags himself through his classes.  He’s pretty sure that it isn’t a coincidence when someone starts singing “we will rock you” as he passes by in the hall.  By noon it’s clear that everyone has heard about David’s humiliation at Jake’s party.  Stevie gets a copy of a picture someone posted, and while David is actually rather pleased at how good he looks (it’s an excellent costume, and he carries it off well), it’s a harsh reminder of just how jarringly he stood out from all the khaki pants and sweater sets.

After classes he can’t stand the thought of going back to his echoing apartment, and walks up Mass Ave until the aroma of fried food lures him into the Café Tropical.  It’s not exactly bustling, which he supposes isn’t unusual for three o’clock on a Friday afternoon.

The same woman who serves him every time comes over as soon as he sits down in a booth.

“Hi, I’m Twyla,” she says sunnily.

“I know, we met before.”  And you’ve got a name tag, David thinks.

“Have a bad day?”  Twyla asks.

David struggles not to roll his eyes.  He’s not usually rude to wait staff, it’s not a good look.  He adjusts his tone to something less grumpy.

“You could say that.”

“Well, at least it’s the weekend!”  Twyla deposits the huge menu on the table.  “Let me know when you’re ready, I’ll be right over there defrosting the muffins.”

At least that probably means they don’t cook them here, David thinks.  He skims the menu, getting whiplash as he considers a burger, a salad with quinoa and pineapple, an onion ring tower, or a quesadilla.  There’s even a whole section of Irish food, from fish and chips to bangers and mash.

“How is the shepherd’s pie?”  David asks when Twyla returns, and if possible, her face brightens even more.

“Oh, do you like Irish food?  I’ve always wanted to go to Ireland.  We added those menu items after my mother’s hairdresser went on a vacation there.  She actually went to Sweden, but she meant to go to Ireland.”

David stares at Twyla for a moment, trying to take this in.

“It’s always been a fantasy of mine, you know?  Go to Ireland, listen to the bagpipes, walk in the rain.  When I’m sad I like to put music on and daydream about what might happen - I could meet a redheaded sailor who would love me, someone who would literally put all their hopes and dreams aside to be with me.”

David is a little confused.  “Did that actually happen?  I mean, is this sailor a real person?”

Twyla considers this.  “I don’t know?  Maybe?  But I never met him.  Instead I met a guy named Dewey at a bar in Somerville and he bought me a lot of beer.  A <i>lot</i> of beer.  And I don’t even like beer.  We lived together for a while, but it didn’t work out.”

“You seem very… calm about it.”

Twyla shrugs.  “The only thing I really regret is that he kept my dog.  That wasn’t very nice of him.  But what can you do.  I don’t think I’m meant for love.”

“Me neither.  I mean, I went to law school for my ex, and he still doesn’t respect me.”

Twyla takes this in without missing a beat.  “It could be worse.  At least law school is a pretty nice place to be, right?  My second cousin went to jail for her husband, but it didn’t work.  They got divorced anyway.”

She’s got a point, David thinks.  Law school isn’t nearly as bad as jail, at least as far as he knows.  “Well, my strategy isn’t working either.  I’m starting to think it’s just me.”

Twyla seems to take offense at this.  “You?  Who wouldn’t want to be with you?  You’re the most interesting person to ever come into the café.”

David realizes that he’s wearing drop-crotch capris and a Rick Owens hoodie, but that can hardly make him the most interesting person to ever come in.  It’s not as if they’re in a one-horse town in the boondocks.

“I very much doubt that.”

Twyla leans down, her voice conspiratorial.  “I've read about your family and everything you've gone through. It sounds super crappy.  But look what you’ve accomplished - you’re going to Harvard Law!  You have an amazing future ahead of you.”

“Wait, you know who I am?”

“You’re David Rose - Moira Rose’s oldest child.”  She shrugs.  “My uncle’s girlfriend is a big Sunrise Bay fan.”

David stomach grumbles, and he figures this conversation has gone on long enough.  “Can I just please get a cheeseburger with extra fries?  And extra cheese?  And a chocolate milkshake.”

Twyla nods and takes the giant menu back from him.  “Sure thing.  Probably a good idea to stay away from the shepherd’s pie anyway.  I’m really not sure what goes in there.”

The next morning David frowns at the empty spot on his kitchen counter where he had imagined there was a Keurig (there isn’t, for the simple reason that he hasn’t bought one yet) and goes out in search of coffee.  He gets a latte from a local place a few blocks away, but it’s no better than the last few he tried.  No one can get his order right, and the barista is far too cheerful.

On a whim, he decides to check out Langdell Hall, the home of the law school library.  It’s one of the largest buildings on campus, a modified neoclassical monstrosity with Greek style columns.  Just another Ivy League pretension, David thinks as he climbs the stairs.  It’s the largest academic law library in the world, and it wants to make sure everyone knows it.

Once inside, David wanders around, trying to muster up some appreciation for the fact that he is really quite privileged to be here.  It’s got to count for something, getting into Harvard Law, even if Sebastien isn’t impressed.

He hears some students talking in low whispers, and realizes that it’s a group of his section-mates, gathered around a table with their laptops open.  Against his better judgment, he moves closer, wondering if they will say anything or just let him walk past.

“David - hey, how are you?”  It’s Jake, and David turns to the group, adopting his best nonchalant pose.

“Jake - hello.  I didn’t see you here.”

Along with Jake, he recognizes Meredith and one of the other guys he met on the first day.  They’re all aiming bleary albeit friendly looks at him.

“We’re organizing a study group,” Jake says.  “You should join us.  Stevie, too.”

“Are - are you sure?”

Jake smiles broadly.  “Of course.  The more the merrier.”

“Actually, we don’t need anyone else.”  Sebastien appears from out of nowhere and slides into the empty seat next to Jake.  “We’ve already divided up the outlines.  There wouldn’t be anything for you to do.”

David can feel his face flush.  “Oh.  Well…”

Jake shrugs apologetically.  “Sorry, David.”

“Yeah,” says Sebastien.  “Sorry, David.”  He turns to Jake and plants a smacking kiss on his lips, then turns back towards the others, ignoring David as easily as if David had disappeared through a trap door in the floor.  Which is exactly how David feels, so ten points to Sebastien.

David beats a hasty retreat out of the library, nearly crashing into someone as he races down the stairs.

“Watch where you’re going,” he hisses, head down.

“Whoa, hey, are you all right?”

It’s Patrick.  For fuck’s sake, David thinks, why now?  He turns back, to try and make his excuses and get away, and only succeeds at tangling his legs together.  He would have crashed to the ground if not for Patrick’s hands grasping his arms.

“David.”  The way Patrick says his name, gentle and concerned in contrast to Sebastien’s casual cruelty, almost makes David cry.  He shakes his head, then tilts it up, willing the tears to stay inside.  

“Hey, you’re okay,” Patrick says softly.  “Take a breath.”

They stand there together for a long moment, Patrick’s hands warm through David’s fluffy sweater, until Patrick seems to realize how close they are.  He clears his throat and steps away.

David figures this is it, then, and a wave of regret washes over him at ruining what might have been turning into an actual friendship.

But Patrick doesn’t leave, or even comment on David’s emotional turmoil.  Instead, he looks at David like he has a secret, and motions with his head.  “Come on.  I want to show you something.”

When David doesn’t move, Patrick moves closer again, and presses the tips of his fingers to David’s elbow. “This way.  Come on.”

He leads him out of the law school quad on to Mass Ave, and they walk back towards Harvard Square, cutting across a public green space that is a lot less well groomed than those inside Harvard’s gates.  Ordinarily David wouldn’t care for this much walking, let alone without knowing where he’s going, but Patrick keeps giving him these little secret smiles, and occasionally touching his elbow, or his arm, and David doesn’t want it to end.

They cross another street to a group of buildings with the familiar Harvard red brick style, then around the edge of a low stone wall.  A few steps down, and David can feel the weight slide gracefully off his shoulders.

“What is this place?”

It’s blessedly quiet here, a small spread of green grass surrounded by flowers and shrubs, with a circular fountain at one end.

“It’s the Radcliffe Sunken Garden,” Patrick says.  “This area is technically Radcliffe, which used to be Radcliffe College, before it merged with Harvard College.”

Patrick leads David to one of the many benches around the green, and he sits down with a sigh.  They aren’t all that far from the street, but the stone wall, the splash of the fountain, and all the trees and blooms combine to transform the small space into something magical.

“Want to know why I like this place so much?”  Patrick asks.

David nods, watching as Patrick slides his ugly but probably very practical backpack off his shoulders and sits down next to him.

“Well, it’s beautiful, and relaxing.”

“Obviously,” says David, sensing that there’s more.

“And it smells better than most places around here.”

David can feel a smile building as he nods again.  “Agreed.”

“But the very best reason is that I have never, ever, seen even a single law school student here.”

The smile escapes onto David’s face, and only strengthens as Patrick grins too, a little proud of his own joke.

“I suppose I have to apologize, then,” David says.

“Oh?  For what?”

David waves his hands at himself.  “You’ve now seen a single law student here.”  He hears his own words, wondering if his brain even recognized the double meaning.

He thinks maybe Patrick catches it, as the tips of his ears turn pink, but it doesn’t seem to bother him.  “I guess I can make an exception for you.”

“Oh?  Should I feel special, then?”  Oh my god, David thinks to himself, you’re flirting.  Are you flirting?  What the hell are you doing?

“Mmm.  You should definitely feel special.”  Patrick says this with a straight face, and then reaches for his backpack.  “Because I brought treats, and I’m willing to share them with you.  If you promise not to give away my secret hiding place.”

“I’m very good with secrets.”

“Are you?  Because you told me right away that you’d never have Stevie as a roommate because she pees in the shower.”

“That wasn’t a secret, that was a horrifying fact,” David protests.  But he’s distracted by the Tupperware container Patrick takes out of his bag and hands to David.  “What’s this?”

“Open it.”

David pries the plastic lid off and inhales, the sweet smell of freshly baked cookies mingling with the scent of the hydrangeas blooming next to them.  “Did you make these?”

“I did,” Patrick says with a hint of pride.  “Try one.”

David gives him a “duh” look and digs out the biggest cookie, immediately taking a bite.  “Holy crap, this is amazing.”  He chews and rapidly takes another bite.  “Are there pistachios in here, with the chocolate?”

“Pistachio toffee chocolate chip,” Patrick says, taking a cookie for himself.  “Based off a cookie my cousin had on a trip to Florida a few years ago.”

“What on earth caused you to pack these up and carry them around campus?”  David is looking back in the container, calculating whether he can eat another whole cookie - or two - before Patrick stops him.

“I made them for Bob and his wife Gwen - Bob has an auto body shop up the road.  I used to work there, thought I’d stop by and say hi.  I haven’t seen him in a while.”

David stops mid-bite.  “But now your friend won’t get to try these.”

“I don’t know,” Patrick says, catching David’s eye.  “Looks to me like he’s enjoying them.”

David feels his face warm, and he glances around the garden, trying to find something to take Patrick’s attention off of him.  “Are those gargoyles, on the base of that bench?”  

“Hmm, I think so.  Do you have any objection to gargoyles?”

David shrugs.  “Not specifically.  Just an odd design choice.”  He finishes off the cookie in his hand, and licks a spot of melted chocolate off his fingers.  He glances over at Patrick, who is chewing a cookie of his own.

“Patrick?”

“Yeah?”

“Is everyone in a study group?”

Patrick’s face morphs into teaching assistant mode.  “They aren’t required to be, but a lot of students find them helpful, sure.”

“How many people are supposed to be in a study group?  Like, is there a limit?”

“No.”

“How do you get into one?”

“It’s pretty informal.”  Patrick is clearly starting to see that there is something behind David’s questions.  “Why do you ask?”

David huffs.  “Fucking Sebastien.  Jake asked me to join their group, and Sebastien said I couldn’t.”

“He’s a real asshole, isn’t he?”  Patrick seems to regret his words as soon as they come out of his mouth.  “I mean, I’m sure you know a different side of Sebastien-”

“No, you’re right,” David says.  “You’re totally right.  He is an asshole.”

He hears Patrick take a breath.  “I’m sorry, David.”

“It’s not your fault.  And it’s not as if I didn’t see it before.  I just…” David breaks off.  He can’t say it, can’t say that he was so desperate for someone to love him, that he let Sebastien walk all over him.

“What we do for love, eh?” Patrick says, after the silence stretches between them.

“It wasn’t love,” David says.  “It was something a lot more embarrassing.”

“Can’t be more embarrassing than my love life,” Patrick says, and David turns to him, a smile tugging at his cheeks.

“Want to grab a bottle of wine and continue this conversation?”

Patrick laughs, loud and bright in the quiet space.  “Oh god, I wish I could.  But I’ve got two dozen problem sets to correct, and research to do tonight.  Rain check?”

David is so enthralled by Patrick’s eager face, he doesn’t even mind that he turned him down.  “Of course.”  They get up, Patrick swings his backpack back over his shoulder, and they start the walk back towards school.

“Although… problem sets?  I know my track record with Sparks’ assignments isn’t great, but I don’t remember any problem sets.”

“Nah, it’s not for that.  I’m also a teaching assistant for two sections of an undergraduate statistics class.  My position with Sparks’ firm doesn’t start until second semester, and just doing the criminal law assistant position doesn’t make enough money to pay my rent.”

“You’re going to work for Sparks, for real?”

Patrick seems to stifle a wince.  “Yeah.  He’s a big deal in criminal law, you know.  He’s got the fancy firm, lots of associates working under him, some junior partners.  Working there can be a real step up, if you want to go into criminal defense or white collar crime, or work for a District Attorney’s office, anything like that.”

“Huh.”  David hadn’t really given any thought to what Patrick does in his spare time, when he isn’t hanging around campus rescuing David from his various crises.

“He offers internships to his best students second semester, you know.  Usually picks them from his first year class.  It’s a great opportunity.  You should apply, you might like it.”

David rolls his eyes.  “As if that guy would ever pick me for anything.”

“You’ll never know unless you try.”  

[thebrownssociety]

Space Jam 2 AU [AKA Across The Serververse] Part 2.

Hey! Roxy Goth here. So, just a couple of quick note before we carry on, firstly -  from now on I think I’ll just have the title of this as ‘Across The Serververse’ and drop the Space Jam 2 AU bit. 

Secondly - I can’t remember exactly how Rhythm got the toons into the Servereverse, by that I mean if they literally just stepped into it, ALA Dom + LeBron or if they had to go into a spaceship like Marvin’s. 

So I’ve just done something that may or may not be right. Enjoy!

Warning: Swearing

*6 months later*

Pepe and Penelope were excited. After 6 awesome - but admittedly long - months they were finally coming back to Tune Town. As they had been last to be picked up last time it meant they were also last to be dropped off, so by this point they had the boat to themselves.

“Ah, mon leetle cherry-blossom.” Pepe said, embracing Penelope. “The other passengers, they have gone, which leaves a monsieur and a mademoiselle alone together. What do you suppose we do in ze short about of time we have?”

Penelope giggled and hugged him, but as she hugged him she got a view of their home world. “P-p-pepe-” She said, faintly.

Not liking the nervousness in his wife’s voice, Pepe turned and his jaw dropped.

Tune Town was deserted. There were no signs of life anywhere, tumbleweeds ambled lazily across the desert parts of it, while in the forest parts the trees had started to go somewhat wild. That had always been Elmer and Sam’s job [and Marvin’s, if he was around] to cut down the trees. So where were they?

Before either of them could really process what was going on, the trees started shaking with so so much force that Pepe and Penelope were inclined to cling to each other, despite the fact they were on a boat.

“What is it?” Penelope whispered.

“I don’t know.” Pepe said, forgetting to put on his French accent. 

Just then a small figure darted out of the trees and ran towards the beach. “Don't stop!” The voice of Bugs Bunny called. “Keep goin’!” They could see him properly now, running down the beach and along the jetty. When the boat got close enough the rabbit braced himself and jumped onto it, hitting the floor with so much force he became flat.

“Hey! You have to pay!” The boat-captain yelled, while Pepe shook Bugs so he became 2-D again.

The rabbit reached into hammerspace and pulled out a couple of notes before just hurling them at the captain with an impatient. “Dere, does dat cover it? Now-” He turned to his friends. “Am Oi glad ta see you two!”

Pepe and Penelope were to stunned to respond to that, there eyes taking in the rabbit’s appearance. His eyes were wild and excited, his chin had stubble on it, his fur was messy and unkempt and - the most worrying of all for Bugs Bunny - his ears were down. He had also seen fit to dress himself in a tramps outfit. 

Seeing his friends horrified look, Bugs looked down at himself and said. “Eh...I guess ya wanna know what happened, don’ cha?” Upon getting a nod Bugs yelled to the captain to ‘park it a moment!’ and - grabbing a torch out of nowhere - began with: “It all started a mere two weeks after you left meself, Daf and Elmer were practising our famous ‘Duck Season, Wabbit season’ routine, actually, ya know what? I’ll show ya in flashback. Hold on-” He put his hands to the side of his head and concentrated.

*Flashback starts*

“Duck season!” Bugs said, ripping down a poster,

“Wabbit season!” Daffy snapped, yanking down another poster.

“Duck season!”

“Wabbit season!”

“Duck-!”

Bugs was cut of in his witty comeback by Elmer suddenly sighing and sitting down on the grass.

Bugs and Daffy looked at each other in confusion, before simultaneously shrugging and sitting next to the hunter, one on each side of him. Bugs got a carrot out his hammerspace and took a bite. “Eh...what’s up, Hunter?”

“Sowwy.” Elmer said, tiredly. “I’m not feewing it today.”

“No prob-lemo!” Daffy said, before Bugs could speak. “What do you want to do? We could go to Australia!” He pulled down a backdrop of Australia, causing them all to sweat. “Or France!” He pulled down another backdrop and threw a string of onions round both his brothers necks. “Or England!” He pulled down another backdrop and grabbed a cup of tea out from hammerspace. “Justh name a place!”

Elmer, holding a cup of tea with a string of onions slung round his neck, looked wide-eyed and confused. “...Home?” He said, simply.

Daffy sighed and the backdrops fell around him. “Okay then. I suppose we’ve had enough for one day. Oh, Bugsy, Bugsy ol’ buddy, ol pal!” He slung an arm round the rabbits shoulders. “Might I enquire what you are making for dinner?”

“Eh...ya can ask.” Bugs said nonchalantly.

As Daffy started to try and barter his way into a good dinner, the scene switched to the middle of Tune Town, where a tall, black, slightly shimmering man was talking to the other LT’s.

Bugs’s eyes narrowed and he marched towards them, yelling. “Hey! Who de hell are you? Dis is a private island, ya know!”

“I am Al-G-Rhythm.” The guy said, smoothly. “I am Warner Bros newest mode of technology. The link between all of your worlds. The Serververse. No longer will you have to travel between world like a second-class citizen, you can all live in one place together.”

“An’ dis benefits us...how?” Bugs asked, not believing all this for a second.

“You get to expand your horizons. Actually go into other characters worlds. You can explore, who knows? Maybe even rebrand-”

“Eh...I don’t think so.” Bugs said, confidently. “We’ve done enough ‘rebranding’ over de past few years. We’re all good here.” The other toons nodded along with him. 

“That’sh what YOU think!” Daffy said, dramatically poking Bugs in the chest. “I for one would LOVE to spread my wings!”

“Eh...jus’ talk ta Warner Bros, Daf. I’m sure they can get you a role spoofing some of de other properties.” Bugs said, easily.

“Of course.” AL-G-Rhythm purred. “With the offer I’M making you you can go anywhere and be whoever you want to be. All of you.” He added, seeing the other Looney Tunes beginning to look interested. “Anything and anywhere you want to be. I mean, let’s face it, you’ve all done so much for this stup - I mean, Warner Brothers over the years, isn’t it time you cut loose and had some fun?”

Bugs’s eyes narrowed. The Looneys were perfectly capable of having fun without needing to go across the serververse, thank you very much. He looked around, expecting to see his family with similar expression, but instead they were all talking to each other about it and sounding...excited?

“I can take you anywhere you want to go.” Rhythm said, his voice raising a little above the noise. “Hogwarts, Austin Powers, Matrix, you name it, WB have probably done something with it at some time. And if you wanted to go back in time, no problem, we still have the Paramount Pictures stuff on a different planet.”

“Reawwy?” Elmer -who was a big fan of The [original] Addams Family - asked.

Rhythm smiled. “Reawwy - eh, really. All you have to do is step into the serververse...” He stepped to one side and a suddenly a glowing door appeared from nowhere. “...And you can go anywhere you want. Now...who’s with me?”

The other Looneys looked tempted, they really did.  But after a shared glance and one of those ‘telepathic conversations’ they were so good at, Porky shook his head and said, politely but firmly. “T-th-thanks for t-t-the offer, Mr R-r-rhythm, but if it’s all the sa-the sam - makes no difference to you, we’ll stay here.”

The other looneys nodded.

Al-G-Rhythms eyes grew hard and his voice dropped to a baritone level as he said. “Well...don’t say I didn’t try and do it the nice way.”

Before any of the toons could ask what he meant though, Rhythm raised his hands and every toons except Bugs was lifted in the air, all with various shouts of surprise.

Bugs heart pounded as he looked at his family's frightened faces - some of them were clearly in pain - and he yelled. “Let ‘em go! Take me if ya hav’ ta!”

The other Looneys all started yelling at him not to do it, that it was a stupid idea. Rhythm looked at the grey rabbit and seemed to be considering it. Then he shrugged and - with a dramatic swoop of the arms -  made all of Bugs family disappear. 

“NNNNNNOOOOOO!” Bugs yelled and kind of did a little dance where he tried to go to one side, then the other, but realised that unlike his cartoons he had no idea what had just happened. “A’ight Buster.” Bugs growled. “What the fuck have you done with my family?”

“Oh!” Rhythm said, with false innocence and Bugs’s fist itched to punch him. “That was your family? Oh...I had no idea. From the way you treat them I thought it was the ‘Bugs Bunny’ show.”

“Yeah, a’ight, ya made ya point. Now bring ‘em back!”

“And where would the fun be in that?” Rhythm smirked, then became deadly serious. “Now listen to me ‘wabbit’ and listen carefully, course I ain’t sayin’ this again. I have sent your assistants-”

“-Brothers and sisters you mean.” Bugs corrected.

Rhythm looked surprised. “You consider Lola Bunny a sister? I thought you were dating.”

“Eh...” Bugs waved a hand. “That’s in canon Doc. This is ‘off-stage’ so ta speak.”

Rhythm hummed thoughtfully then - remembering he was supposed to giving a monologue - carried on with. “Whatever they are to you is no matter. The point is they are all spread across the servisverse and they’ve all been sent to random places that-” He laughed. “-Hell, even I don’t know! And YOU-” He pointed at Bugs. “-Have 6 months to find them and if you DON’T they will be deleted!” He started laughing hysterically.

“Eh...” Bugs said, left eye beginning to twitch. “Ya know Warner Bros have access to the servers as well and will realise we’re not in our world? They’ll then send us back.”

Rhythm scoffed. “You think I’m an idiot? I’ve thought of that - you wanna know how? Well, FORGET IT!” He suddenly bellowed, getting right in Bugs’s face. “I’m not going to tell you! You’ll have to figure it all out for yourself. but I’ll make it fair for you.” He said, voice taking on a soft, almost fatherly quality. “I promise that I won’t look at your progress until the last day, deal? Then you can’t say I’ve interfered. Deal?”

Bugs yelled his protestations at the top of his lungs, but Rhythm just laughed and disappeared back into the serververse. 

*End flashback*

After the end of that flashback it was safe to say Pepe and Penelope were quite shocked. They were still trying to get there head around the fact that all this had happened in the 6 mere months they’d been away, when they heard a strange sound and saw Bugs crying.

Penelope hushed him and Pepe offered him a handkerchief. Bugs blew into it noisily at exactly the same time the horn blew before handing it back to Pepe who looked at it in disgust and threw it over the side of the ship. 

“So what happened after that?” Penelope asked, fearing she already knew the answer. “Where are they?”

“Oi don’t know, okay!?” Bugs wailed. “I don’t know! Dere in different worlds somewhere, but I don’t know where and I don’t know how it works! Oi don’t know if they’ve just gone to the worlds, but without being able to shift so they stand out like a sore thumb or if they’re replacing someone else within dat world! In which case, where’s de character dere replacin’? Oi don’t know which worlds dere in, oi don’t know if dere safe or happy or bein’ tortured - I DON’T KN-!”

*SLAP*

Bugs blinked and felt the imprint Penelope’s hand had just left on him. “T’anks. Oi needed dat.”

“We weel get them back.” Pepe said, placing a hand reassuringly on Bugs’s shoulder. “Myself and Penelope will help you. We will not rest until out family, it iz complete!”

Bugs smiled shakily and wiped his eyes. “Well, dere’s one issue with dat-” Seeing his brother and sister’s curious look he gave a half-hysterical laugh and asked. “Well, why do you t’ink oi’m still here? Oi can’t get out. I’ve tried goin’ back through to Warner Bros central, oi can’t do it. The portal we use physically won’t let me through. Oi t’ink Rhythm has put some kind of block on me. To stop me leaving so oi can’t find da others. It’s de only thing that makes sense. An’ I’ve tried different versions of me as well from all across the years. King me, jester me, classic me, new me. I even tried Ace Bunny, dat’s how desperate oi was! I can’t leave-”

“-What about Chungus?” Penelope asked. Seeing the weird looks Pepe and Bugs were giving her she explained. “It sounds like Rhythm has put some sort of block on YOU. But...Big Chungus...he isn't technically a version of you, is he? He started out as a meme taken from when you were shape-shifting”

“He’s in ‘World of Mayhem.” Bugs said, doubtfully.

“Which is a game!” Penelope said, excitedly. “Not a tv show! Have you tried it? No? Well, give it a go!”

Feeling excited for the first time in 5 and a half months Bugs took a breath and started to shape himself into the monstrosity that was Big Chungus. When he had finished he smiled, leapt onto the mast and - donning a pirate hat and sword - yelled. “Full steam ahead! Warner Bros Central here we come!”

As the exit - aka the portal - that led to Warner Bros Central loomed over him Bugs felt nervous. ‘Please work, please work, please work-” He chanted under his breath. 

Then with a flash of blinding light, they went through. 

[statticscribbles]

Puppy

Summary: Reggie/Reader Request: Reggie avoids you because he overhears you talk to Kevin about your perfect guy (comic book character) so as he’s avoiding you, you keep trying to get his attention, and finally you end up kissing him cause he’s just pining after you like  lovesick puppy; after the confession and when you start dating the “lovesick puppy act” gets worse

“Kevin I’m being serious!” You smack his arm as he laughs. “No it’s just funny he doesn’t seem like the type you’d go for.” “And what do you know about my type.” You laugh with him and he smirks. “Reggie, what would you say Y/N’s type it?” You can see Reggie frown before shaking it off. “Tall, dark haired, plays football.” He winks and you smile at him. “Wow that’s so off model it’s kind of sad.” Kevin nods solemnly and you smack his arm again. “You do have to admit it though, I mean the muscles, and the hair, plus have you seen him wearing a shirt? He practically never does!” “That’s sort of the point you know that right, not wearing a shirt to attract the ladies, you included apparently.” Kevin smirks and you scowl watching Reggie almost storming out.

“I’m guessing Reggie’s not a fan of the reboot then?” You chew your lip. “You think he knew we were talking about the newest edition? I mean we’ve talked about the second volume for months so-“ “I don’t think he cares about what I talk about, you on the other hand.” “Kev, he doesn’t care about comics half as much as you do, let alone me; how much do you think he thought I was talking about a real person.” “I mean inability to keep a shirt on just screams Sweet Pea, you know that right?” “Dammit; now I have to go find him to explain don’t I.” “It works out perfectly you explain your crush to him.” “My crush on-“ “On Reggie, not that paper cutout you have in your room.” You roll your eyes and run after where you think Reggie is.

You weren’t able to find him before science but you know having to sit next to him will at least give you an excuse to explain the comic book misunderstanding. You frown when he doesn’t look at you, doesn’t talk to you. You’re stuck doing busy work since your actual teacher is out; so the chance to talk goes out the window until lunch at the earliest; since you don’t share any other classes with him. You pass him in the hallway and wave and you can tell he makes a point to turn his head away. You try to brush it off, concocting reasons for his sudden change in attitude. You complain to Kevin during math and he just laughs at your ridiculous theories. “Oh yeah, and what do you think has a stick up his ass so bad?” “He likes you; it’s why he’s so bothered by your crush you realize that right?” “Kevin that’s ridiculous; he’s Reggie freaking Mantle, he can have anyone in the school; why would he want me?” “Do you want the list alphabetically or by popularity?”

“Popularity?” “You’re a River Vixen, you’re into those weird old books that he doesn’t admit he likes; since you’re a River Vixen you have a great figure, you know how to dance, you like Pop’s.” “Kev it’s Riverdale, everyone likes Pop’s. That one doesn’t count.” “You know you two order the same thing, every time right?” “No we don’t; do we?” he laughs nodding as you make your way to lunch. “Hey Reggie” Kevin nods to him and he looks up, turning slightly away from you to focus on Kevin. “Yeah?” “What’s your standing Pop’s order.” “Burger wise or in general?”

“Isn’t the burger in general, or do you order something we don’t know about?” “You thinking about making a run down to Pop’s cause I know pretty much everyone would kill for that.” He grins and Kevin smirks. “Yeah, you wanna help me carry shit? Meet by your car in five?” Reggie nods vanishing to the parking lot and Kevin grins. “So I want a cheeseburger, extra onions and-“ “Kev why are you- No, no he’s been avoiding me all day!! I’m not going to sit with him to get Pop’s!” “You’re getting Pop’s?” You cringe at Archie and Jughead’s hovering. “Yeah, write down what you want.” You scowl holding out a spare piece of paper.

“Reggie, Kevin asked if I could go instead, he has theatre stuff to; okay.” You sigh as he opens the door silently walking around to the drivers seat. You’re silent the entire car ride, trying to start conversation but the lack of even a glance your way keeps you quiet. Reggie doesn’t say anything just holding his hand out so you stop getting out of the car. “Wait.” He says it more to the car than to you and you huff, grumbling under your breath as he pulls the list from where you set it in the cupholder. He appears moments later. “What do you want?” You decide to give him a taste of the silent treatment and point to your order you’d written. “That’s mine.” He clarifies and you point to it again glaring. ‘So you want the same thing as me?”You nod and he laughs dryly. “Won’t even talk to me great.” “Say’s the one.” You hiss and he glares openly at you.

“Well I’m not the one with a crush on someone they can’t have now am I? So who’s the real loser.” “You.” He groans and slams the door retreating back into Pop’s to order and wait for the food. You watch from the car window as he pulls the bags towards himself, you lean towards the door, opening it and walking through. “Let me help.” He doesn’t say anything sliding two of the bags towards you. He silent until you put the food in the backseat. You buckle your seatbelt waiting for him to start the car. “Listen I don’t care about whoever you have a crush on. Just making that clear.” You sigh looking up to the ceiling of the car. “Me you mean, you don’t care about me.” “Who said that?” “You did, or rather didn’t; I’ve been trying to get your attention all day to explain.” “Explain what?” “Comic books.”

“Is that code for something? Or slang for you wanting some Jangle? Cause I don’t sell; what I get is my own-“ “Kevin and I, we were talking about comic books earlier.” “Oh good for you?” “That crush isn’t on a real person.” “Oh well alright then; once again good for you. So there are other crushes?” He questions glaring slightly; you realize he didn’t want to actually talk with you. You don’t respond as he drives back to school. “Grab the food?” You ask as he stays unmoving in the car; he must catch you rolling your eyes with how he scoffs. “What? I’m going to grab the damn food.” He snaps.

“Yikes, there’s no need to be in such a pissy mood, I get you’re hungry but-“ “I’m in a pissy mood cause you’ve been avoiding me for the entire day!” “I’ve been avoiding you? I’ve been trying to get your attention since you stormed off after the crush misunderstanding!” You scowl as he shoves the other bag of food towards you. “I can avoid whoever I want regardless of how I actually feel about you.” You snap at him. “You feel differently than avoidance about me? Hard to believe; but at least you admit you were avoiding me.” You laugh shaking your head.

“The only reason I’m admitting it is so you won’t complain for the next week about how much of a bitch I’m being.” Reggie sets the food on the hood of his car leaning over you. “Don’t put words in my mouth.” He hisses about to pull the food back over when you tug on his arm. “Reggie.” Your voice is soft and you can tell he’s confused but you’re relieved as you pull yourself towards him. You’re quick about pressing your lips to his, intent on kissing him and bringing everyone their food so he doesn’t get the chance to ask you about it.

It works and as you shove Jughead’s burger into his hands you scowl when you realize your order was packed with Reggie’s. You’re about to turn around to look for him surprised to find the burger and extra fries sitting at the spot on the table you’ve claimed. “Oh thank you.” You say more toward the general table but jump slightly when Reggie’s arm lays on your shoulder. “No problem.” He seems relaxed as you sit down, he sits next to you and you cast a look to Kevin who nods, you’re thankful he’ll be able to talk later. “These are yours.” You nod to the fries and he shakes his head. “Don’t want them.” “You don’t want the cheese fries you ordered?” “Not in the mood for them anymore.” You smile pulling them closer. “You’re welcome to them, since they are yours.” He nods relaxing slightly settling closer to you as he sits.

You sigh when the bell rings, standing to grab your bag confused when Reggie hands it to you. Kevin appears, walking with you to English. “So what was that about?” He mumbles as your teacher finishes the lesson for the day. “We kissed.” “So you just skipped confessing your crush then?” He laughs and you join him. “I guess I did; we’re probably going to have to talk later.” “You better, I’m not letting you get away with not confessing to him. I don’t think he’s going to either.” He nods and you smile confused as Reggie stands at the door smirking. “Can I walk you home?” “You have a car.”

“Walk sounds better.” You arch an eyebrow. “How is walking better than you being able to drive your car?” Kevin nods as he leaves and you walk towards the door. “Well like this.” He steps to the side, slightly closer, his hand grasping yours. “You don’t want to drive because you can’t hold my hand?” You watch a blush creep onto his face. “Maybe.”

“You know you can hold my hand while you’re driving.” “I didn’t want to assume anything.” “Well we kissed, and I do have a crush on you.”’ “So you do have a type?” He straightens up beaming; and you laugh. “Yeah, you were right about the tall dark haired footballers. AKA you.” You wink and he laughs. “Do you want to go out sometime.” “Besides this?” You nudge him and he shakes his head. “This isn’t going out, I’m walking you home.” “From being out, together.” “School doesn’t count as a date.” He counters and you rolls your eyes. “Well you’ll just have to plan a date then.” He nods eagerly and you smile as he reaches your door.

You’d been dating Reggie for a week and Kevin is constantly pointing out how much Reggie’s acting like a puppy. “Kev, it’s not a thing, you’re exaggerating.” “Point proven, look.” You’re standing behind him so you know Reggie can’t see you but you can see him. He’s laughing with the rest of the Bulldogs and nods to Kevin; you watch as Kevin moves, and Reggie’s face softens and he smiles excitedly.

“Babe!” He moves from the rest of the bulldogs pulling you into a hug. “Oh my god he’s right.” “Who’s right?” Reggie pulls back slightly and you shake your head. “I’ll tell you later, we’re still on for Pop’s after the game right?” He nods leaning down to kiss you. “Of course, it’s tradition.” “This is the first time we’re doing it.” “And after it’s tradition.”

Support My Writing?

[adhdeancas]

Sunset Sound: Stairway to Heaven

Special thanks to James @friedchickenangelwings for helping me out with this story. I can’t wait to write this. Read on AO3 here

Summary: Everything is the same up to the end of 15x20. Chuck has been “defeated,” but it was all a farce. When Jack absorbed Chuck, Chuck easily took over the 3 year old’s body and acted as if he were defeated. Chuck!Jack then had the Rusty Nail placed in the barn where Dean died, and with Cas gone, Dean didn’t fight it. Chuck did reimagine Heaven, but he’s fed the same lie to them all: that everything is perfect, they are free, they are in real paradise. Except it’s all an illusion insulated by blue skies and endless horizons. Because, just like the Good Place, people make Heaven into Hell for each other. And there’s nothing Chuck loves more than the natural order of tragedy. He “let it slip” to Bobby that he brought Cas back, when he really left him to rot in the Empty. Dean has to find his best friend before it’s too late, and he has to keep a happy face for everyone else, because Chuck is watching. Always watching.

Chapter One: Runnin’ on Empty

“Well, Cas helped.”

Dean’s heart flutters at that and he looks at Bobby. The damn old man raises his eyebrows; he knows he just buried the lead and he did it on purpose. A soft breath escapes him and he smiles. Maybe this is gonna be alright after all. Hell, maybe he can find that angel and…

“It’s a big new world out there. You’ll see.” 

Dean’s stomach twists at the idea. I don’t wanna see. His stupid brain insists. He takes a swig of the beer in his hand to try to quiet the voice. “Oh, wow.” He recoils a bit and looks at it. “This tastes like the first drink I ever shared with my dad.” He shares a wry smile with Bobby. Drinks with Dad weren’t exactly top-tier, and they both knew it.

“Quality stuff?” 

Dean’s smiling because he feels like he should be. “Nah, it’s crap.” He tries to shift that memory into a good thing, because his memory of his first beer is the crushing doubt and fear that swirled around his head. Finally, he’d done something right enough to earn a beer like a Man, but he still felt… broken. 

He feels the same now.

Maybe it’s because he’d really just wanted a hug.

But Bobby is waiting for him to say something. Dean focuses instead on the surface-level joy of that old mid-evening beer, the pride in his dad’s eyes, trying to drum up the feeling. “But it was fantastic.” 

“Just like this.”

“It’s almost perfect.” Dean manages. He wants Bobby to agree. He wants Bobby to say ‘Yeah, I know, something just ain’t right, can’t put my finger on it,’ but he doesn’t. He lets the silence drag on for a second longer before he fills it.

“He’ll be along.” Dean’s heart jumps, but then he realizes he’s talking about Sam. Not Cas. But he doesn’t want Sam up here anytime soon; he wants Sam to live a nice life with Eileen, like he promised. “Time up here, it’s different. You got everything you could ever want, or need, or dream. So I guess the question is, what are you gonna do now, Dean?”

It kinda feels like when Jack was born and Cas was dead and Sam wanted to go to strip clubs and listen to Zeppelin and eat at the greasiest holes-in-the-wall. Like he had everything he was supposed to want laid right out in front of him, but… none of it made Dean feel anything. He looks around, searching for inspiration, and his eyes land on home. Things always look clearer when he's looking out at ‘em through Baby’s windshield. “I think I’ll go for a drive.” 

“Have fun.” 

He leaves the acrid beer with Bobby and climbs into his car. Maybe he’s insane, but she feels.. different. He is insane. He is in heaven. “Get it together, Dean.” he mutters to himself as he pulls away. Bobby mentioned that his parents are nearby but… Dean doesn't want to face that yet. Nothing to fix your existential crisis about Heaven like a neat talk with your disappointed parents. 

He keeps to the main road instead. He drives for an hour, maybe two, at least that’s what it feels like. From what Bobby said, time isn’t so straightforward here. That only scares him a little bit. Eventually, his brain seems to calm down enough to think clearly. He’d chosen this. He’d accepted this. And he’d meant what he’d said in that barn; he was okay with dying. Of course, he didn’t realize that meant… He didn’t realize that meant more. 

A little voice inside him whispers something evil. He’d just wanted to see Cas again. Even in memories. Like it was before…

He takes a deep breath. “I’m not gonna fuck it up. It’s heaven. I can’t fuck it up in heaven, right?” He laughs out loud to himself, but it’s cut off by Baby groaning underneath him. She starts to slow. “Baby? What the hell?”

She’s out of gas.

Dean grumbles as he pulls over. “Sonuvvabitch, what the-” He almost said what the hell. He’s in heaven. Nothing in hell. Heh. She rolls to a stop and he kills the engine, letting the new silence and stillness wash over him. He sighs. Heaven, huh?

He scrubs a hand across his back and looks over to his right, to an onion field. Yellow and pokey and-

Cas is standing in the middle of it. 

Dean just about has a heart attack. He scrambles out of the car, honks Baby’s horn in the process, is all the way around the car by the time he really sees him.

Cas looks terrible. He’s standing stock-still in the middle of the field, arms down at his sides, crumpled trench coat speckled with the black sludge that haunts Dean’s nightmares. His hair is matted, his face gaunt, eyes sunken in with bags dark as bruises. But what scares Dean the most is the look in his eyes. His eyelids droop and hang and he stares straight ahead, straight at Dean, without seeing him, without any light in them at all. 

It doesn’t look like Cas. 

“Cas?” Dean approaches slowly, hands held out like he would to a wild animal. Cas shows no sign of moving, just stands there. “Cas, look at me, man,” There’s pleading in his voice, but he doesn’t care. He needs Cas to be okay. 

Castiel is not okay. 

As Dean gets closer, he starts to hear screams and crashes. He twists around to look for the source, but it just seemed to come from… around Cas. He looks closer, and Cas’s hands move to fend something off he can’t see. He’s still just staring ahead, but, looking closer at Cas’s face, he sees something he hadn’t noticed before. 

Cas is talking. Well, muttering really. Dean can barely hear him through the pauses in far-off yells. “d-Dea-Dean. Dean- de-Dean.” Dean stomach drops off a cliff. “Dean, just think of… D-du-Dean.” 

“I’m here, Cas.” Fuck the rasp in his voice. Fuck the tears in his eyes. Cas can’t hear him. He can tell by the look in his eyes. “FUCK!” 

He rubs his eyes with his fists furiously. This is so frustrating, this is so-

There is no one there. No sound. Cas is gone. 

Dean strides ahead, but it’s no use. The field is empty, and he is alone. Again. 

It takes Dean a few minutes before he can get himself under control. Cas isn’t there; he has to assume he never had been, not really. So, unless Dean has finally gone off the deep end, it was… what, a vision? A- god, it felt familiar. It felt like - it felt like after purgatory. The same haunted face, the same unseeing eyes. Gone in a blink.

Why am I seeing you again, man? 

But, as sure as he is that there is grass on the ground, he knows Cas can’t hear him.

Dean sits up against his fender and sighs. On the one hand, he is sitting on warm clear asphalt, feeling the afternoon sun bake his face, and on the other, he is miserable and seeing his dead-alive-again best friend. Except if Cas was around, he would come see him. Right? I mean, Dean died. So young. And Cas just told him- 

And Dean is praying to him. And he’s not here. It’s not right. None of it is. That he is sure about. If this was heaven, he didn’t want it.

Dean gets up. Will he ever get some motherfucking peace? He gets in his car, tries the ignition. She starts up again and - miracle of miracles - has gas. He thanks her with a pat and they're off, riding into the eerily-perfect sunset, back the way they came.

Night’s fallen by the time he pulls into the dirt pathway. He parks on the lawn and shivers a little bit in the chill of the night. Funny, he wouldn’t think Heaven got cold. But then again, he wouldn’t have thought Heaven would be shitty either. The roadhouse is inviting and homey, lights on inside. Dean snags a beer from the cooler left out front and kicks the door open softly. “Hello?” He doesn’t know who he’s expecting, but it definitely wasn’t who he gets. 

“Dean!” Charlie wraps him in a hug before he can say anything, and Dean gladly melts into it. God, it’s good to see her. He pulls away and pats her cheek, checking her out. She looks good, normal. Less… dead and bloody than he last saw her? Jesus his mind is a dark place. 

“Hey kid! How the hell are you?” 

Charlie rolls her eyes at the greeting, but she can’t stop grinning. “All things considering, y’know, being dead and all, I’m good!” 

Dean laughs. She’s already rambling, and he missed her. “Sorry about that one,” he winces, remembering his part in the circumstances around her death. 

Charlie chooses to take it as a condolences. “Yeah, you too, dude. But at least we died young and hot, right?” She tugs him over to the bar and leans around to yell at the scuffed doorway. “Ash! We got company?”

Dean’s eyes widen. “Ash? You guys know each other?” 

“Can’t keep geniuses like us apart, compadre,” Dr. BadAss comes out of his backroom, arms spread out in greeting. Dean can’t stop himself from greeting him with a hug. He hadn’t known who to expect here, but Ash and Charlie are just about best case scenario. “What’re you doing here?” 

Dean knows he means how he died, but he looks around anyway. The rest of the bar is quiet and still, and Dean can hear nothing outside the heavy doors either. “I think we gotta problem, Ash.” 

Ash’s face folds into a frown. “What kinda problem?” Dean feels Charlie press in and he glances at her suddenly-serious face. 

“A big one. A heaven sized one.” They all looked around skeptically, a little Scooby-Doo-like, taking in the lifeless room around them. Finally, Ash meets Dean’s eyes, and Dean withdraws a little. 

“Yeah, we know. Welcome to the team, Deano.” 

Tag list: @dochunterwitch  @justonecitizenoftheearth @gnbrules @purpe @castiel-is-a-cat