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im-not-batman · 10 months

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Since Ao3 is down, I thought I'd post an old fic on here in the interest of keeping us all sane. Enjoy <3

Bloomed into Blue | Ronance | Rated G | 8,399 words

Nancy wanted to scream, tear out her hair, throw a tantrum and yell about how unfair it all was. Being in a professional work environment made that difficult though.

Instead, she smiled and clapped as she watched yet another of her colleagues collect on the rewards of her hard work. She sat in her seat for as long as she could stomach, and then broke away to hide in the bathroom until she felt like she could be in the office without feeling the urge to break something.

This marked the fifth time that one of her coworkers had gotten recognition for her research, her writing, or her investigating, and she was sick of it. After her stint at the paper in Hawkins, she had expected some disadvantages in her working life, but this was ridiculous. She had put more hours of work into that last story than anyone on the team, it had even become a running joke in the office that she spent more time here than at home! How could she have gone unrecognised again?

If only it was socially appropriate to send your boss into the hell dimension underneath your hometown, she thought fancifully. He certainly wouldn't underestimate her or her mettle ever again, but it would likely raise other issues.

So instead of doing what she wanted to do, what she felt like doing, she muscled it all down, dusted off her skirt, straightened her already perfectly laid blouse and looked at herself in the mirror.

"You deserve better," she told herself, firm and assured, "go out there and demand better."

She gritted her teeth, took a deep breath, and left the bathroom, beelining for her manager's office across the floor. She caught a few comments from the piggish men in their cubicles about how 'it must be that time of the month' or about 'how sensitive women are these days'. These were the sorts of comments that had become commonplace, really. Ordinarily, she'd have a quip or scathing remark to throw their way, but right now, she was on a mission.

Seeing that Jerry was free, she walked straight in without knocking. By way of greeting, she planted her hands firmly on her hips. Robin would call it a power pose and point out how odd it was that polite and demure Nancy Wheeler had grown into who she had.

"Miss Wheeler, what can I do for you?" Jerry started, but it wasn't a genuine question. He wasn't even paying the courtesy of looking at her and was instead polishing a tacky golf ornament that he kept on his desk.

"I want it on the record that I should have received a share in that raise," that was generous really, she should have received the entire raise. Frank had spent the last three weeks making unhelpful comments and sleeping through group meetings, instead of organising them like he should have been. Nancy decided, though, that if she made that observation known to her boss, she'd be on the entire company's shit-list.

"Wheeler, Frank was head writer on that project, it was his story, he got the raise," he already had the glazed-over look in his eye that she recognised all too well. She'd seen it enough times when she'd tried to engage her father in any kind of conversation that involved her passions.

"That's just it, sir, I did more work than anybody on this one. Ask around. I've worked more hours than anybody else in the department, I spent all my free time researching and I wrote almost the entire article–"

Jerry put up a condescending hand to stop her, "you chose to do those things, no one asked you to, darlin'." He said deliberately.

Nancy ground her teeth and lifted her chin – Lord knows she's put up with worse than a little misogyny. She poured all the false respect she had into her voice as she replied.

"All due respect, sir, but it never would have made it to print if it weren't for me."

"Fortunately, we'll never know," he said with a smugly patronising smile.

Nancy seethed. She opened her mouth to argue again, but he raised that damned hand again. This time he made a shooing motion. Like she was little better than a misbehaving child. Worse than that; like she was a creature he didn't care to even feign his respect for.

Without hesitation, and with all the surety she could muster, Nancy stood her ground and with a deep breath announced: "Jerry, I quit."

The moment the words were out of her mouth an overwhelming sense of relief washed over her. A heavy burden was lifted off of her shoulders and she felt like she could straighten her spine for the first time since she'd taken this god-forsaken job.

"Don't be stupid, Wheeler," Jerry warned, still with the tone of condescension, like it was his default when he spoke to her.

"Oh this is the smartest thing I could possibly do, right now, I deserve better than this." A smirk was fast-developing across her face, the apathy she had now that she wasn't worried about her job caused a little of her ruthlessness to slip through her crafted 'girl-next-door' veneer, "this paper will drown without me."

"Hah!" Her boss chortled, "you won't last a week out there in this business."

"I've faced down serial killers and won, Jerry. I'll be just fine."

Taking more than a little satisfaction in the astounded look on her ex-boss's face, she turned on her heel and walked out. Without slowing, she hooked her bag over her shoulder as she passed her desk and then walked out the front door. Not so much as a glance back before she stepped out into the crisp Chicago air.

Walking away from the building, Nancy felt like she could finally breathe properly. She'd spent her entire tenure there shaping herself into the boxes they wanted her in, squeezing herself into categories that made the men around her comfortable. When she thought about it, she'd done that her whole life.

She always made herself smaller to be more acceptable to those around her. People struggled to handle her competence and drive – it tended to make them feel inadequate – and so they found ways to limit her to make her more palatable. And when she'd gotten used to people reacting to her that way, to them wrestling down those parts of her personality, she'd started doing it preemptively.

Walking out of that no-name paper had been a wake up call. An opportunity to reset. Remove the mask.

She felt powerful.

So when she got home, jobless and pretty much penniless, she was smiling.

"What are you doing here so early?" Eddie asked from his spot on the sofa, guitar in hand, when she walked through the door.

"I just quit my job," Nancy replied. She was a little breathless, likely owed to the four flights of stairs up to their place, but it was also partly because she felt a bit giddy saying it outloud.

"Alright, Wheeler," he praised, setting down his prized guitar and holding up an appreciative fist for her to bump. She grinned and did so proudly. If she could count on anyone to be delighted about her joblessness, she could count on him. He'd been encouraging her to quit for almost as long as she'd worked there. Eddie wasn't one to suffer fools and so the very first time Nancy had come home seething about the blatant unfairness she was experiencing, that had been his immediate suggestion.

To begin with, she had found it infuriating. The fact that Eddie thought she could be content in giving up so easily and letting them win was insulting. She was too good for that; she was too smart, too stubborn.

Nancy refused to give in so easily. She was determined that once she proved herself useful, if she did what they asked, went above and beyond, they'd have to take her seriously. She thought she'd finally be given the lead on the important stories. She was a talented, hard-hitting, investigative journalist. She was wasted on boring puff pieces that only existed to fill in the gaps on the pages. She was naïve enough to think that her boss would see that in time. Clearly she had been wrong.

As she flopped down onto the sofa beside her best friend, she resented him a little. Things were so much easier for him – since they'd left Hawkins and the people who called him 'murderer' and 'Satanist' behind, at least. While he'd certainly understand some prejudices and unreasonable roadblocks in his day to day, his life would never be complicated by sexism. When he was good at things, that was taken at face value; he was allowed to be good at them. When he felt something, he didn't have to reign himself in or risk accusations of 'hysteria'. He didn't have to worry about saying or doing the wrong thing, and having that mistake reflect on every woman in the field.

She loved Eddie dearly, but he would never truly understand. So when he gave his advice, it was sometimes a bit too flippant, a bit too blasé.

But even when he couldn't help, he'd always be there with Nance to celebrate her wins. So she leaned against his side and smiled when he squeezed her tight and told her (not for the first time) that she was the baddest badass in the history of badassery.

"Alright, alright," Nancy grinned, pushing him away playfully. Eddie had a very physical way of showing his support and affection. Sometimes, it was a little stifling. She gave him a warm smile anyway, "Do you know what their shifts are today?" She asked, gesturing towards the ceiling. Robin and Steve lived in the flat above them, which conveniently concentrated all of Nancy's favourite people (bar a few) into one apartment block.

Eddie smirked and leaned back, picking up his guitar in one fluid motion, "Robin has today off if that's what you're asking," he said, playing a guitar riff that was vaguely familiar.

She rolled her eyes and stuck out her tongue at him as she stood to head upstairs. She ignored it when he affectionately flipped the bird in her direction.

When she knocked on their door, it took a second for there to be a response. Nancy understood why when Robin came to the door dressed in coveralls that were more paint than fabric.

"Hey Robin-a-Roo, busy day?" She chuckled, a little sarcastically.

"You don't even know the half of it, Nance," Robin sighed with false weariness as she turned to walk back into the apartment with a broad grin. She left the door open for Nancy to follow her.

Nancy smiled with amused shock when she reached Robin's room.

Every surface was covered in sheets of tarp, save for one wall which was smattered with splats vibrant colour.

There were open cans of paint in every colour you could imagine lined up on the floor (also protected with plastic), and there were various paint brushes and tools strewn about. When she looked at Robin again though, she saw that clearly she had leaned in favour of using her bare hands for this endeavour.

"Voilà!" Robin announced, waving her arms dramatically at the wall. Her face was adorned with a broad and bright grin that reached her eyes. Nancy's chest flowered with warmth.

"Cool," she said with a smile of her own, "there's almost as much paint on the wall as there is on you."

"Oh, excuse me for getting excited at the prospect of flinging colours around," Robin rolled her eyes good-naturedly and turned to admire her messy work.

Nancy laughed again and looked at the set up Robin had going.

She grinned, "looks like fun."

Robin beamed and turned to face Nancy again, "it's a great stress reliever. Wanna join?" She wiggled her eyebrows in challenge.

"Oh I wouldn't want to ruin it," she replied, suddenly feeling sheepish and vulnerable.

Robin's voice dropped a little, and she smirked, teasing, "ruin my completely random, zero skill required, messy, impulsive, paint splashing?"

Nancy frowned, "Impulsive? Didn't you get the landlord's permission?" She asked.

"There wasn't time! I had to go to the hardware store to get the tarps and paint and then I was deciding which wall to do it on and covering everything else with plastic and tape!" She spoke while waving her arms around dramatically, clearly just trying to make Nancy laugh. It worked.

"Don't worry I'll paint over it when I move out," she promised and wiggled her fingers ominously as she asked, "so are you getting your hands dirty or what?"

This time it was Nancy who rolled her eyes, "Fine, but I don't really have any clothes I'd be okay with getting paint on."

"Just borrow mine," Robin offered without hesitation, already dipping a hand into a truly alarming shade of bright green and admiring the way it dripped from her long fingers.

She grinned at Robin's ease at offering up her clothes for her to essentially ruin. The trust that Nancy would know the right clothes to pick, the inherent intimacy of sharing clothes, shocked her a little.

An indescribable warmth spread through her chest as she rifled through the drawers. She grabbed a grubby old work shirt that she knew Robin only kept for messy projects like this, since it was embroidered with a company logo. And she recognised a pair of dungarees she'd seen Robin wear before – she had a habit of drawing on the knees and wiping dirt and dyes and all sorts all over them, so she assumed a little paint would be fine – and took them to the bathroom to change.

When she came back into Robin's room, Nancy lingered at the door. Robin had put on some music (apparently not minding her tape deck getting a little colourful) and was jumping around dancing to David Bowie. With her eyes closed, she didn't see Nancy return and so was unencumbered by embarrassment or shyness.

Robin smiled bright, she occasionally flicked out her arms towards the paint wall, leaving a splatter of neon green from the arc of her hands as she danced. It was pure joy. Nancy couldn't keep herself from joining.

As the chorus hit, she jumped into Robin's room, dancing like no one was watching and she started singing along. Well, shouting would be more accurate.

At first her friend looked caught. Like she didn't mean for anyone to see her goofing around dancing to one of her favourite songs, so Nancy made sure to act even goofier. Even out the playing field.

Robin's face then transformed into something akin to awe. Like she couldn't believe that Nancy was there. Finally, her expression turned into one of sheer happiness as she started dancing again and joining Nancy in her shout-singing of the chorus.

As the song faded out, they found themselves theatrically falling to the ground out of breath, the plastic rustled beneath them. Any of Nancy's lingering annoyance for the people at her old job had been drowned out by the utter joy that coursed through her now.

She sighed as she finally regained her wind, "I needed that," she smiled as she sat up to look at the wall again, "so what do you want me to do?"

Robin mumbled something as she sat up herself, but it was garbled by the sound of the effort she took. When Nancy turned to look at her, Robin looked confused. "What do you mean? Just do what you want, man. Go with your feels, let the music move you."

The last words were said in a floaty sing-song that made Nancy giggle, as she watched Robin rock back and forth, out of time to the new song that had started playing, "sometimes I forget your parents were hippies, and then you go and say something like that."

Robin chuckled as she got to her feet, offering Nancy a hand, "seriously, Nance, just do what feels right, there's not a pattern to follow or a quota to meet, just–" She bent over abruptly, dunking her hands in a paint can and threw her arms out at the wall again, "dip and fling."

Nancy's smile felt like it'd rip her face in half. "Dip and fling," she tried to say seriously and failed.

She did exactly that, though: dipped her hands into a lovely shade of bright sky blue, and swung her arms out, watching the paint drops flick from her fingers in an arc and hit the plaster with a satisfying splat. She threw her arms about in every direction she could think of until the paint on her hands ran out and then she stood back, admiring her handiwork. It was messy and dripping down towards the ground already. It was perfect. Nancy looked over to Robin for her approval but she was already looking right at her with a huge grin, bouncing in place.

"Atta girl, Nance," she said, quieter than Nancy had expected her to speak. There was a strain behind it, like she was holding back. Nancy didn't really know how to respond, so she flicked the tiniest bit of remaining paint at Robin's chest playfully and then bent to get the next colour to decorate the wall.

For the next few hours they remained there, in a bubble, goofing around, listening to music, making a mess. The world may as well have disappeared for all they knew. In their little room, with Robin's ratty old speakers blasting Blondie and Bowie and Bonnie Tyler, Nancy felt freer than she had in months.

Only when they started to get hungry did they realise how much time had passed and by then, Robin's bedroom wall looked positively psychedelic.

"Wow," Nancy chuckled when she stood back and took a proper look at the project. She hadn't really expected it to look as beautiful as it did, a little worried that the paints would congeal and dull into brown. Instead it made up a maelstrom of brightly coloured nonsense. Something like glee bubbled in the pit of her stomach.

"Right?!" Robin exclaimed, bouncing on the balls of her feet and wriggling her fingers in that cute way she did when something excited her. Nancy found herself hiding a private smile behind her curls before Robin could see her blush. Get a grip, Nancy.

They went off to clean themselves up in the bathroom, rinsing off what they could from their hands and arms. Robin hand shrugged off the top half of her coveralls and tied it around her waist. It was unbearably attractive. Nancy endeavoured not to stare by staring diligently at her own hands as she scrubbed them.

"So," Robin said, breaking the silence, "how are you now?" Robin asked and Nancy snapped her head back up in surprise at the question.

"What do you mean?" Nancy asked, acting as casual as she could manage.

Now Robin seemed to shrink a little, like she was embarrassed, "I mean – um – well, about the paper, I guess."

"Oh," she sighed, biting her lip, and Robin looked abruptly away. Nancy tried to lighten her tone "did Eddie somehow tell you when I wasn't looking?"

"No, no, he didn't," Robin assured her quickly, "I just assumed. Since you're here… in the middle of the day. And I know you've been really unhappy there and you've been thinking about talking to your boss which I can't imagine going well since he's, like, a rich, old, white man. Not that I think you'd have said anything to get fired! It's just that that is what men are like, you know?"

Nancy found herself laughing at her companion's rambling and put a hand on her shoulder to keep her from rambling herself in circles, "I know. But I feel great, Robin."

She seemed to release the tension from her shoulders then, and relaxed under Nancy's hand. Robin was smiling but wouldn't look her in the eye, a sort of bashfulness overtaking her. It was painfully cute.

All Nancy could think about at that moment was how effortlessly Robin had re-routed her day to include her and help her forget the terrible day she'd had up until then. How easily she had brightened her mood, lifted her out of her anger and upset, by knowing exactly what would cheer her up.

"Thank you," Nancy said, and without her brain's permission her throat knotted which doused the words in emotion. She felt her lip quiver and took a breath to contain herself.

Before she could process what was happening, Robin had engulfed her in a hug. Her arms wrapped tightly around her shoulders, face buried somewhere near Nancy's collarbone. One hand brushed up and down her back while the other held her close, and both movements were immensely soothing. She felt safe, cared for. Tears began to fall.

"I'm sorry," Nancy apologised, looping an arm around Robin's waist while the other was trapped against her chest.

"You don't need to apologise."

"I'm just so angry, you know?" She gasped in a soggy breath, "I work so hard and do so much and it's never even noticed."

"I know," Robin whispered.

"It's not fair."

"It's not, you deserve better."

Nancy pulled away, not even enough to break their hold on each other, to look at Robin when she admitted, "That's what I said when I quit."

Robin's eyes lit up, "you quit?" She surged forwards again and held Nancy so tightly, her ribs complained.

"Nance, I'm so proud of you," she was whispering into Nancy's hair again but this time, it was cheerful.

Nancy's smile was watery but genuine when she tightened her arms around the person that always made her feel so much better.

She avoided visiting home as much as she could these days. She'd left Hawkins for a reason, so of course coming back was always slightly sour.

She'd outgrown this town years ago and being back was suffocating. There were a few moments of reprieve; when she got a moment alone with her mum and she gushed about how proud she was of all Nancy had accomplished, when she could get away to see Robin or the Byers-Hoppers (Steve and Eddie had stayed back in Chicago for the holidays, Wayne insisted he come up to them). Mostly though, it was horrible.

She only had to get through two more days. Two days and then she'll be free – she'll hightail it over to the Buckleys', grab Robin and haul ass straight back home.

Until then though, she had to sit through conversations with her family members. The questions she could handle, the small talk was mind-numbing but bearable, but when they started proffering their opinions on things? She hated it. Not so much from the more distant family members, random cousins and uncles that felt the need to put in their two cents – that much was expected and easily ignored. When it came from her dad though, the man she was supposed to look up to, the man whose thoughts had meant so much to her once upon a time (and still did if she was honest with herself), it was a much harsher blow.

She'd just finished recounting the story of how she'd left her job a few months ago and gotten a much better one for another paper. She had thought that her dad would be proud of her, would praise her for knowing her own value and succeeding because of it. Instead he'd hardly looked away from the television, and when he did, he regarded her with derision.

"What's the matter?" Nancy asked, her excited smile from recounting the tale beginning to drop.

"I don't understand why you bother working at all, Nancy. You ought to get married and settle down. You need to be tamed."

She felt like he'd slapped her across the face. He may as well have. She didn't think there was anything he could say that would have hurt worse than that. Ted turned towards the TV again without a second thought, probably already forgetting what he'd said to his daughter. Nancy felt the threat of tears prick her sinuses so she stood and made for her old bedroom before anyone could see her cry.

Despite her fury, she tried hard not to slam the door behind her, instead taking out her frustrations on the drawers. She gripped the wood until her knuckles turned white, her breathing turned erratic as she wrestled her instinct to shout and fight and make him understand.

She wished she was home again. Not for the first time that day, and likely not for the last.

She wanted to be back in Chicago with Eddie and Steve and Robin. The people who understood her, supported her, bolstered even her most outlandish ideas. She missed Eddie's look of awe at everything she did – it was disastrously nourishing to her ego, but she loved that he thought she was "the coolest cat since sliced bread". His words.

Nancy missed talking things through with Steve, she loved his level-headedness and balance. It usually meant that whatever scheme she had cooked up somehow ended up much more effective. He'd occasionally try and talk her down, but he knew her well by now. Knew her stubborn nature.

And she missed Robin. Just Robin. The way she'd always be there. Always cheering her on, always holding her hand when she needed it.

Right now she just wanted her friends.

Unfortunately, whatever higher power was up there felt differently and instead sent Mike.

He lightly knocked and then let himself into the room, seemingly completely unaware of how upset she was.

"Nancy, can you drive me to Will's later?" It was clear that he didn't expect any answer other than a happy 'yes'. He had barely stepped into the room and was already turning to go, knowing he'd not need to fight his case.

Nancy gritted her teeth against the instinct to snap at her brother. After all, he hadn't done anything wrong; she was angry at Ted, not at him.

"Sure," she answered through gritted teeth, giving him a false smile that would fool no one.

Mike looked to take it at face value for a moment, considering whether he should ask her or not. He wavered on the threshold and eventually decided. He looked at her again, this time actually paying attention.

"What's got you all bent out of shape?" He asked. It wasn't unkind, just sort of… thoughtless. It annoyed her all over again.

"Nothing," her voice came out tight and strained, "dad's just– god, he thinks I need to be 'tamed'!" She didn't mean to say it, it wasn't Mike's problem, she knew he wouldn't understand, but she felt like she was going to explode if she didn't let some of her rage free. Like letting steam out of an over-boiling pot.

Mike looked nonplussed and simply stood there as she recounted her father's words and ranted a little. She gestured wildly in her fury and paced the floor. When she was done, she looked to her brother, hoping for sympathy, maybe even understanding.

She was disappointed.

"I mean, he's not wrong. When you have a house and a family, you won't have time to work. That's what girls do, right?" Mike looked like that was the most sensible thing in the world. Like it was fair. Expected. Nancy wanted to throw him out of her window.

"No, Mike, we don't," she spat, "we tend to be living, breathing creatures with brains and ambitions of our own."

Mike looked shocked, he didn't expect her to react so bitterly. He must have noticed his error because he quickly added, "well, that's just what mom did, I guess you can do whatever you want though."

It should have been enough to placate her, really. Mike was young, a product of his sheltered, privileged upbringing. He didn't know better unless someone taught him better. But Nancy was so tired of teaching people things. Sometimes she wished they'd just know.

So she turned away, silently fuming. She gazed out the window, briefly fantasising about an escape plan.

"Can you still give me a ride?" Mike asked, voice small and cautious. This time unsure of what the answer would be.

She put effort into making her voice softer this time, "Yes, Mike, be ready in thirty."

"It can be later if you want, I don't mind," he didn't sound sure, he was clearly still tiptoeing.

"Don't be silly," Nancy rolled her eyes with a sigh, "you'd rather be at Will's than listening to Aunt Carol sing White Christmas badly."

That managed to share a smile between them, tension dropped as they complained together about their very annoying relatives.

When her brother left to pack his overnight bag, Nancy was left to her own devices. A dangerous thing for a woman of her brains, capability and desperation to escape.

In the end she didn't need a grand plan. She was an adult. With her own home and her own car. She could just leave. So she gathered together her things haphazardly and while no one was looking, snuck outside to sling her bags into the back seat.

As she looked back at the house, hoping that Mike would be ready to go, she caught sight of her mum gliding across the window with Holly on her hip. Suddenly she couldn't allow herself to just leave without saying goodbye to them.

Ducking back inside, she managed to dodge beckons for her attention by pretending to need something in the kitchen, but she knew that would hardly work for long. So when she found her rearranging a couple of decorations absently, Holly had since gone off to do her own thing, she grabbed her mum by her wrists and dragged her along.

"Nancy, sweetie," Karen chuckled, trusting her daughter and going along without a fuss. Safely tucked away, she turned to her but clearly hadn't schooled her features well enough.

"You look… thunderous, Nance, are you okay?" She swept a hand down the side of Nancy's face, taming a stray curl and then moving to hold her chin gently.

"I can't be here after what dad said. I can't." Nancy admitted, "I'm leaving, but I needed to say goodbye."

Her mum's face softened in sympathy and she pulled her into a comforting, motherly hug, "it's okay, I understand."

There was no heat in her mother's voice. No strain of upset, no anger, no disappointment. Just love and compassion.

It made sense, really; if anyone was going to understand how it felt to be on the receiving end of her father's soul-crushing remarks and almost neglectful disinterest, it'd be Karen Wheeler.

Nancy squeezed her a little tighter.

"Okay, Wonder Woman," Karen huffed out a small laugh, "best get going before the crowd thins and they notice you leaving, eh?"

Nancy nodded with a sad smile, "thank you," she said. The words were small and broken, her heart broke a little bit too.

Her mother rubbed her back soothingly, "can I see you again before you head home? Or are you leaving tonight?"

"I'm just going to Robin's for now," she assured her. She pulled out of the hug but kept their hands gripped together, "I'll come see you before we go home."

"No no, I'll come see you, we can go for coffee or something." Something in the way her mum said it made Nancy want to cry. Like she was just as desperate to get out, even if only for a few hours.

"Sounds perfect," Nancy smiled knowingly, and before she lost her resolve she took a deep breath, "you know, you and Holly are always welcome in Chicago. Eddie can stay at Robin and Steve's and we'll have the apartment to ourselves."

Tears welled in her mother's eyes, and her lip quivered but she was smiling and nodding gently, "that would be lovely, Nance." She surged forward and wrapped her daughter in a bear hug, "I'm so proud of you. You are a wonderful, wonderful woman."

Nancy pulled back and beamed at her mother, "I got it from my mom," her voice was warm and thick with affection. She hoped it came across in those simple words, just how much she meant it.

Karen's eyes were still welled up but she was stoically fighting them back, determined not to cry. Nancy had seen that look in the mirror.

"I love you, mom," Nancy said, with one last squeeze of her mother's hand.

"Love you more, honey," she smiled through glistening eyes, "now go go go!"

Nancy did just so. She found Holly over by the unsupervised plate of cookies, kissed her goodbye and slipped out in the middle of a loud argument about who sang 'White Christmas' originally. Mike was waiting by the car with a bag slung on his shoulders.

As she pulled up to the Buckleys' house that evening, having dropped Mike off, she'd had plenty of time to consider what she was doing and work herself into knots.

It was unfair of her to spring this on Robin, for her to invite herself over until they decided to go home. It was the holidays, the Buckleys were probably busy with family things. Family that didn't include her.

Nancy was seconds away from driving off without even knocking the door when she caught movement from the corner of her eye.

"What are you doing here, Nance?" Robin asked, running up to the car and flinging the door open a broad smile lighting up her beautifully freckled features. She yanked Nancy out of the driver's seat to pull her into a bone crunching hug.

When she could breathe again, Nancy answered without answering, "I'm so sorry to just turn up like this."

Robin waved her off dramatically with a scoff, "you're always welcome, Nance, my parents love you." The thought made Nancy grin.

"So are you staying the night? Or is this a flying visit? Because if you're staying that'd be super helpful because we've got an odd number so games are a little harder. You can be on my team? I bet my dad will try to steal you though. For your brain." She said the last part with a strange seriousness that was rarely found on her face. Nancy laughed.

"I was hoping to stay the night?" She admitted, "I promise I'll be on your team," she added to sweeten the deal. Robin made a not-so-subtle fist pump and then leaned into the car to grab Nancy's bags. She headed into the house without another word, so Nancy assumed that it was okay. That she was welcome. She trailed up the path behind her friend.

When she stepped inside, she was sweetly assaulted by the smell of gingerbread and wintery herbs. The warmth that spread from the hearth in the living room bled into her bones and warmed her soul. There were carols playing delicately from the radio in the kitchen. Robin had disappeared into her bedroom down the hall, deposited Nancy's bags and returned, stopping through said kitchen, to pick up a bounty of cookies that she offered up.

Nancy took one with a smile. It was such a stark contrast to the chaos of Christmas at her parents'. No overbearing relatives telling her that she looked tired and hadn't done her hair right. No screaming cousins trying to hang off of her arms the moment she appeared. It was peaceful.

Only now, in the lull, did Nancy realise that Robin was wearing the sweater she'd given her for Christmas. It was mostly blue, slightly faded in places, with grey sleeves that frayed at the cuffs and in embroidered lettering across the chest, it read 'I'm a bottomless sea'. She'd found it in a thrift store back in Chicago and immediately imagined Robin wearing it.

Nancy was suddenly overwhelmed by how happy she was to be there.

"Are you sure it's okay with your parents that I'm here?" She asked, worried that she'd disrupt the atmosphere like a hostile species introduced to a thriving ecosystem.

"Let's go ask, Nancy-pants," Robin said through a cheekful of gingerbread. Nancy rolled her eyes at the moniker but followed her as she made off towards the living room.

Robin placed the cookies onto the coffee table and spoke along as she signed to her mother on the couch, "Nancy's here, can she stay the night?"

Mrs Buckley seemed to bolt upright at that and Nancy flinched, preparing to be kicked out. But as she turned and their eyes met, it was clear her worry was for nothing. Mrs Buckley beamed at her with a familiar smile that she'd obviously passed onto her daughter.

Nancy had only been learning sign language for a few months but she had a grasp on the basics. So when Mrs Buckley signed enthusiastically – "Of course! Have you had dinner already?" – Nancy was already bringing up her hands to respond when Robin started to translate.

Nancy felt something flutter in her chest at Robin's surprised, perhaps even impressed, expression.

It was senseless, really; she was sure that she signed like a five-year-old. Robin had no reason to be impressed. Still, though, she felt a blush begin to burn her cheeks.

To Nancy's horror, Mrs Buckley was looking directly at her. A knowing, sly smile encroached on her usually soft, amiable features; she looked downright devious.

This time when Nancy's stomach flipped, she knew it was a concoction made up of embarrassment, nerves and general inner turmoil. She shot a (hopefully subtle) panicked glance at Robin's mother who responded in kind with a subtle wink.

Dear God, I'm screwed, she thought, disastrously aware of her own inability to mask her fast-growing crush. And now said crush's mother was also aware. Fantastic.

She signed an incoherent excuse and all but sprinted to the bathroom to escape the scrutiny of Mrs Buckley's gaze. She pointlessly hoped that the reaction wasn't too transparent. But Robin wasn't a fool. For all the nonsense she rattled out in a day, there was twice as much going on in her mind that was useful. Nancy hoped in vain that the revelation of her feelings were shrouded in the layers of nonsense.

She splashed some cold water on her face and laughed a little hysterically.

She came here to escape the crushing weight of being misunderstood, of being a disappointment, and the claustrophobic press of expectation from her family. Now, here with the Buckleys, she was having a hard time being seen. Ironic, really.

There was a light tap on the door, loud enough to be heard, quiet enough not to startle. Robin's voice came through the door.

"Nance, are you okay?" She sounded worried. Nancy didn't want that.

"I'm fine, Robin-a-Roo," she said with wavering cheer as she unlocked the door, giving Robin a reassuring smile as she came in and closed the door behind her, "it's just weird being home."

Robin just nodded, looking down at her fingers where they fidgeted with the rings there. Nancy fought the urge to take those restless hands into hers.

She was nervous, fidgeting in that way she did when she had pent up feelings that needed to be let out. Robin shifted foot to foot, rhythmically swaying in time with a heartbeat. Nancy grinned and started moving along with her, the monotony peaceful and calming.

After a moment, Robin's eyes lifted up to Nancy's, determined and she spoke a little hurriedly – like she didn't want to not say it – "Why'd you come here, Nance?"

A little taken aback, it took Nancy a moment to realise what she'd been asked. She just blinked, calibrating and considering.

The truth was, the only time she felt relaxed was around Robin. The only time she felt completely herself was existing in the warm glow of Robin's presence. There was nothing she needed to do, nothing she had to explain or justify, she could just be. Any time spent in Robin's company was soothing, she came out of it feeling better, not worse.

That was more than she could say for anyone else in her life.

Mostly, her mother was kind, supportive. But there were times she'd make a needless comment about how skinny she was, or she'd sideways glance at something Nancy had said.

Then there was Steve. Sure, she and Steve were close. She trusted him with her life. But he knew her before. There was still a part of him that thought she might be happy living the small-town life. A part of him that still saw delicate and dainty little Nancy, whether he knew it consciously or not. She could see it, though.

And of course, Eddie was her best friend, her confidant, but he couldn't get it. They were fundamentally different: he followed his heart while she followed her head; he was happy to say a firm "fuck you" to society and live on the outside forever, she was determined to force society into submission until it accepted her, moulded around her. She sometimes felt like he was telling her to give up. Not outright, but it felt that way.

The kids still had a lot to learn. There was a lot they didn't understand just by virtue of their youth. And Nancy would never want to burden them with her own worries.

Robin never let her feel like a burden. She always understood her goals and ambitions. She always reminded her of exactly how much she was capable of. Never put her down or questioned her expertise.

"You get me," Nancy over-simplified, "and I'm happier with you than I am with anyone else."

That seemed to cause some sort of a crisis. Robin suddenly stopped rocking, her fingers stopped fidgeting. Nancy ducked to look her in the eyes, trying to decipher the reaction, and was surprised to find a glint of pride, and a whole lot of happiness bundled into the blue of her eyes.

"I don't have to be 'Nancy', you know?" She tried to explain, but she knew it was an asinine attempt, "I can stop being 'me' for a bit…"

Robin's mouth hung open slightly, toying with a sentence that Nancy could already tell would be rushed and chaotic and jumbled. It made her smile.

Just as Nancy was about to break the silence herself, Robin took a deep breath and let it out slowly. Her voice still sounded strained when she spoke, though. Like she was fighting something back.

"I feel the same about you," the rasp in her voice was more pronounced than usual.

"Really?"

Robin nodded gently, starting to rock again, "you never tell me to slow down when I talk too fast. You let me go off on pointless tangents and talk about random things I find cool. You've never told me to stop moving around – actually you copy me sometimes, and I love it." Her smile was back, but she couldn't look Nancy in her eyes still. Instead, her gaze darted around the small room, settling on anything but Nancy's face.

"You've never made me feel like I'm too much or too loud or too annoying," Robin admitted, Nancy felt her own breath catch and her ribs constrict, "I can be myself when you're here. I kind of want you around all the time."

"You do?" Nancy asked, sounding a little broken.

Robin nodded again with a private smile. It was unsure and quiet. At that, Nancy knew that she needed to be honest.

With a sudden rush of clarity, bravery and affection, she couldn't hold it in anymore.

"I want to be around you all the time," Nancy confessed breathlessly – even to her own ears it sounded more like a plea than a statement.

Only then did Robin's eyes meet hers. There was a hint of something like hope or nerves or excitement in them. Perhaps all three were swimming around in the glassy blue at once; Robin always had kept her feelings in shallow waters. The smallest ripple or break in the surface tension and all came spilling out of her in a crashing cascade of consciousness.

Right now, she was keeping an awful lot at bay – Nancy could see the strain of it in the curve of her raised shoulders, the way that she was curled in on herself.

Nancy took a step forward, something bold taking her over. She reached out to rest her hands on Robin's, hoping that the tremble in them wasn't too noticeable.

She didn't think too much about how automatically she had pulled their clasped hands up to her lips, kissing Robin's knuckles gently. Nancy's entire being thrummed with anticipation at the shiver Robin was unable to suppress at the contact.

The bathroom suddenly felt very, very small. Too small to contain the unspoken words, the inescapable tension, the feelings that were building up to a fever pitch. Nancy felt the pressure of it all squeezing the air from her lungs until she could only draw ragged breaths.

She'd been circling her feelings for Robin for months, only able to keep her distance this long with conscious and continuous effort. The moment her concentration had slipped, her brain had been sucked into the whirlpool that was her obsession with Robin Buckley. Now that she'd gotten this far, she wasn't sure she'd ever be able to pull away again.

They drifted closer still. Nancy's hands had found their way to Robin's waist now, holding on to her belt loops and pulling her ever closer. She struggled to keep her eyes from honing in on Robin's full lips. Their height difference made that hard; they were directly at eye level, and so she got a front row seat to her tongue darting quickly across her bottom lip.

Nancy was hopelessly staring now.

Just barely registering that Robin's hands were shaking, Nancy could feel them slide up her shoulders and settle at the base of her skull. Leaving trails of goosebumps behind with the touch. She fought a shiver. Her entire body pulsed with energy.

She slowly, deliberately pulled herself to her full height and rolled up onto her tiptoes. The distance between them was negligible now, but Nancy kept it there for the moment. Instead of pulling them together completely, she moved her grip, balling her fists into Robin's sweater. The sweater Nancy had gotten for her.

It matched Robin's eyes almost perfectly.

In a broken whisper, Nancy confessed, "I would really like to kiss you."

The words tore a half panicked laugh out of Robin's throat. Nancy almost laughed too, at the look of irritation on her companion's face, like she was inwardly cursing herself.

"Sorry about that," Robin said once she'd gathered herself, and then made an over-serious, sobered face, "I think you deserve to have everything you want, Nancy Wheeler."

A grin broke across her face as she watched Robin's head bob up and down, like that was an absolute. Like it was obvious and unquestionable. Something joyous bubbled in her gut.

Finally – finally – she used her grip on Robin's clothes to pull her down to swallow up the last little bit of distance between them.

When their lips met, Nancy's mind exploded with light and colour and vibrance. Robin's mouth was warm and soft and inviting and so Nancy pushed further up into the kiss, all but begging for more.

Robin seemed happy to oblige, and while keeping one hand curling into Nancy's hair, she wound one arm around her waist, hoisting her up a little more. Nancy thanked her with a whimper that escaped without her permission.

A whimper that descended into an all-out moan when Robin's tongue grazed her top lip. Nancy couldn't be more enthusiastic in opening her mouth to deepen the kiss. The hands that were holding tightly at Robin's chest loosened and found their way up to her shoulders instead, wrapping around them to pull her closer.

Nancy was very aware that she'd need to come up for air soon but by-and-by thought that this would not be a bad way to go: suffocating with Robin's lips on hers, arms strong and desperate and needy wrapped around her.

All good things, though…

When they parted, they were both breathless and hazy, foreheads pressed together still. Neither wanted to separate from the other completely. So they panted and grinned and blinked away the daze, sharing their space, their air and their stability.

Robin managed to speak first, of course, "I'm so glad that that's what you wanted."

Nancy giggled airily, her brain was still a little mushy, "'want'," she corrected, "present continuous."

"Ugh, you nerd," Robin chastised before swooping down to catch their lips into another blistering kiss.

Nancy tightened her arms, still slung around the taller girl's neck to pull them closer but moved to part them again. They remained in each other's space, breathing the same air.

"We should go back out before your parents notice we've been gone," Nancy reasoned.

Robin whined in a way that Nancy shouldn't have found attractive, "but they'll be all annoying until we tell them what's going on."

It made her smile. The fear from earlier forgotten, "let's just go tell them then, your mom already knows about my embarrassingly huge crush on you."

"She does?" Robin seemed genuinely shocked. And then her features softened into something teasing, "I can't believe you have a crush on me, that's so weird."

"I know, right?" She laughed, placing one last chaste peck on Robin's lips and pulling away.

"Wait, just so I'm clear: you have a crush on me?" Robin's voice was a little shrill.

"That's probably understating things," Nancy said while she fixed her hair in the mirror and then spun to face Robin again, "I'm pretty sure you're my favourite person on the planet."

The little "oh," sound that Robin choked out was unbearably cute, and so Nancy felt the need to hold her face in her hands.

"Are you okay?" She asked delicately.

Robin's eyes were watery, moments from spilling over, but she kept her eyes on Nancy's. Gentle and loving and awed.

"Hell yeah, Hot Wheels," she replied softly and Nancy's answering giggle was a bit watery too.

#stranger things #ronance #nancy wheeler #robin buckley #ronance fic #fanfic #stranger things fic #ao3 down #robin x nancy #nancy x robin #roo writes

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nova-skittle · 4 months

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would you look at that? you finally did it. you fell in love. only took you this long, only took you hundreds of circles in wedding catologues and one new years eve. it only took you this long to realize it, and you've fallen in love with so so much. it's nothing like you thought. nothing. but it's everything like what they say. it's waking up each morning and knowing they're there, it's spending each day waiting to talk to them. it's every breath being for them, it's every moment waiting. so, hey. you did it. you fell in love like nobody ever has before. you're getting what you dreamed of and you're making new dreams. would you look at that.

#hahaha.. felt silly.#um #maybe i should have a writing tag #roo writes #yeah that makes sense #my husbands #letter to my younger self #btw.

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navybrat817 · 10 months

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Where We Left Off

Pairing: Best Friend!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader Summary: You're in love with your best friend who is determined to make the most of your vacation together. Word Count: Over 1.2k Warnings: Light angst, friends reconnecting, unrequited feelings (or so you think), slight feels (it's me), future fun, Bucky Barnes (yep, he's a warning) A/N: New AU called Reconnect because why not? Meet Dreamboat and Butterfly. For @the-slumberparty 's June's Monthly Challenge : Bikini and Beach, and Smut Hub Summer Camp Bingo @sagechanoafterdark: Choose Your Vibes: Summer. Thank you @flordeamatista for the inspiration and pre-reading! ❤️ Any and all mistakes are my own. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

It was a couple of summers ago when you realized you were in love with Bucky Barnes. When you looked back on your friendship, you wondered how it took you so long to realize it. Like how his smile made your heart race whenever he looked your way. Or how you found a solid ground and safe space together, each of you able to confide in the other.

He made you feel safe.

"You're my best friend."

Nothing more.

You stared out the living room window with a sigh, the beach house blanketed by the heavy sound of rain. While it had been bright and sunny just minutes ago, the sky was now dark and misty. You shivered as you wrapped your towel tighter around your wet body, enchanted by the summer storm instead of going to your room to change. It figured you'd buy a new swimsuit for the trip and only get to wear it outside for a minute.

"So much for lounging on the beach."

You smiled softly as you glanced at Bucky beside you, who ran a hand through his long, soaked hair. He hadn't bothered to keep his towel after the two of you rushed back inside, clad in just his blue trunks that matched the shade of his eyes. You scolded yourself for letting your gaze roam along his sun kissed, muscular body.

You didn't have the right to look at him that way.

"Yeah. So much for that," you said, the towel doing little to keep you warm as the air conditioner kicked on. "Maybe our punishment for getting started without everyone?"

Steve, another one of Bucky's best friends, put together a weeklong trip for the gang. So far, you and Bucky were the only two at the beach house. Everyone else wasn't going to be there until the evening. That was why you went for an immediate swim once you picked your room. The storm would likely put the group behind even more and now you were stuck inside with Bucky.

Why had you agreed to show up early?

Why did you have to be alone with him?

Why do I have to love him?

"Maybe," he said with a stretch, drawing attention to his wide chest. "Since it doesn't look like it's slowing down at all, why don't we cuddle on the couch? Catch up a bit?"

"Cuddle?" you scoffed, the sound more bitter than you intended as you turned to face him. "Why would we do that?"

A flicker of hurt passed over his eyes before he blinked it away. "Well, for one, you're cold. I can practically hear your teeth chattering," he replied. He wasn't a fan of being cold either, but he always ran warm. "And two, cuddling never bothered you before."

Your stomach flip-flopped. Bucky was right. He was the only male friend you ever snuggled with. Whenever you had a bad day, he didn't hesitate to throw a heavy arm around you and pull you against his chest. On good days, he found an excuse to keep you plastered by his side. He used to do it so often that most people assumed you were dating.

Wishful thinking.

"I'm sorry," you said, giving him the nicest smile you could manage even though it hurt to do so. "Been awhile since it was just the two of us and even longer than that since we cuddled."

The day it clicked that you saw Bucky as more than a friend was the day he introduced you to Dolores. Everyone called her Dot. The beautiful redhead looked good on his arm and you wondered why it wasn't you in her place. But you put on a brave face and smiled, even as your heart shattered. Because Bucky's happiness meant more than your feelings.

It didn't stop you from crying alone in the darkness where no one else could see.

"That's my fault," he whispered, sliding his fingers into his hair again and tugging harshly on the strands. You noticed he did that when he was upset. "And I'm sorry."

"Friendship goes both ways," you pointed out.

"You never faded out of my life when you dated anyone."

They weren't you, Bucky.

"I guess she was different," you smiled sadly.

The two of you still hung out and messaged each other while he dated Dot, but it was always as a group and the daily messages dwindled to chats here and there. You had the feeling that Dot didn't like you very much. In a way, you didn't fault her for that. Maybe she saw through you and knew you wanted Bucky.

Yet he was the one who broke up with her.

"You're allowed to be mad at me," he said as he took your hand and crossed the room to the couch. "I'd be mad at me."

"Right now, I'm just cold," you said, not wanting to dwell on the past. What good would it do?

He nodded slowly, almost like he was disappointed in your response. "Okay."

You shrieked when he pulled the towel away. It wasn't like he hadn't seen you minutes before in your bikini and you swore his gaze lingered on you long enough to consider it staring, but what was he doing? "What the hell?" you asked, but made no move to cover yourself.

Maybe I want him to see that I'm desirable.

Bucky let out a breath as he looked at you, your shivering having nothing to do with the cold. "You said you were cold, so let me warm you up," he urged, grabbing a blanket from the back of the couch before he took a seat. "Please?"

Silence fell over you as you sat down beside him. He wasted no time putting the blanket over you and wrapping his arms around your shaking frame. You breathed in his familiar scent and found yourself fighting off tears, a bittersweet swirl of longing and comfort settling in your chest.

Because he embraced you as if you meant something to him.

"I missed you," he whispered, running a hand along your back.

Your heart clenched, focusing on the rain falling outside in a melancholy rhythm. "I missed you, too."

"But we have each other again."

"I wish that were true," you whispered.

Why did I say that?

His hand stilled, but you were too afraid to look at him. "What do you mean?" he asked.

Panic bubbled in your chest. You couldn't just blurt out your feelings like this. "I just mean you went from a constant to a fleeting moment in my life," you said, which was the truth. "I don't want things to fizzle after we leave."

Bucky used to be the brightest star in your sky. Then he became the shooting star you missed making a wish upon. But you would forever watch the sky if only to get a glimpse of his bright light.

"I'll make it up to you. I have this whole week to start," he promised, rubbing his chin along the top of your head. "I don't care what Steve has planned. I'm all yours."

You squeezed your eyes shut because you knew you'd cry if you didn't. He wasn't yours. Not really.

"I'm yours, too, Bucky."

I always will be.

Surely Bucky will sweep us off our feet, right? Love and thanks! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

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drabbles-mc · 8 months

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All Settled

Rick Flag x F!Reader (past: Rick Flag x June Moone)

For @the-slumberparty's Bingo Challenge! Bingo square: caught in a storm

Warnings: 18+, language, pining, arguing, light angst

Word Count: 3.1k

A/N: They're aruging, they're pining, they're stuck in an airport together. We love to see it! also idk i might write more for these two eventually I'm not sure i just don't know but there are Vibes i might explore later lmao

Suicide Squad Taglist: @garbinge @artemiseamoon @beardburnsupersoldiers @words-and-seeds (If you want to be added to any of my taglists, please let me know!)

It was perfect, really. Not in the way that it was good, but in the way that it happened and all you could do was laugh, shake your head, and think to yourself, “Of fucking course.”

“This funny to you?” Rick asked, clearly not as amused as you as he dropped his bag to the floor with a loud thud. It wasn’t nearly as loud as the clap of thunder that sounded right before he’d spoken to you, though.

“I mean,” you said with a shrug, also letting your bag slip down off your shoulders, albeit with less drama, “it’s a little funny to me, yeah.”

He shook his head, scuffing the toe of his boot along the tiled floor. You could tell by that and the tightness of his jaw alone that he was fighting the urge to punt his own bag across the floor. “Glad you think so.”

You didn’t let it faze you—Rick and his short fuse weren’t anything new to you at this point. “Yeah, because getting mad about it like you are seems to be so much better.”

He opened his mouth to fire back at you, but he stopped himself when he saw the traces of amusement on your face, that you were just going to take whatever he said to you in that moment and flip it right back onto him. You were one of the few people in the world that he would request time and time again to assist with Task Force X whenever he could, whenever he got enough leash to bring in an extra body on his side of things. But it didn’t make him any less annoyed with you in moments like this.

“Don’t get your panties in a knot, Flag,” you said as you dropped into one of the many empty chairs behind you. Lightning flashed outside, bright light coming through all the airport windows for a split second. “We’ll be outta here first thing in the morning.”

He shook his head, trying to figure out if he wanted to pace and be angry about the situation, or sit down next to you and be angry about it instead. His exhaustion won out just enough to get him to sink down into the chair beside yours.

“Made it through all that shit, and we get stuck on the layover. That’s,” he shook his head, “that’s just…”

“Perfect,” you finished for him with a laugh. You looked over at him, watching as he shook his head and tried not to look like he wanted to laugh right along with you. “Look at the bright side,” you stretched your legs out in front of you, crossing one over the other, “least we didn’t get stuck in this storm with the rest of the team.”

The sigh he puffed out turned into a laugh, shaking his head as he thought about the scenario you’d just put into his head. “Fuckin’ A.”

“Exactly.” You let your head drop back to rest against the top of the seat. You stared up at the ceiling for a few seconds in silence before saying, “We should’ve gotten a hotel room.”

Now it was his turn to laugh at you. “Seriously? We’ve been stuck out,” he gestured vaguely, not wanting to say exactly where even though there weren’t many people around, “you know, and you’re gonna bitch about sleeping in an airport?”

Turning your head to look at him, you raised your eyebrows and replied, “I’m off the clock, Rick—I’d like to sleep in a real bed if at all possible.”

He chuckled, shaking his head at you. “Poor thing,” he mocked.

You laughed, elbowing his arm off the rest that separated your chair from his. Like he had any right to give you grief about complaining at this point. “Fuck you.”

Neither of you said anything for a bit after that. The two of you sat there in your insanely uncomfortable airport chairs, with posture that wasn’t fit at all for the caliber of soldier that the both of you were. Both of you were watching the few people who were stuck at the airport with you. Your flight had been one of the last, but it seemed like a couple others that were scheduled to leave late got pushed off until the morning. No one was dedicated enough to getting a hotel room to go outside in the rain and wind to get a cab. So you watched everyone putting together makeshift beds of their own out of their luggage, draping themselves across chairs. Whatever it took to be at least mildly comfortable.

You’d been still and quiet for so long that Rick thought that you might’ve fallen asleep. Tilting his head, he glanced over at you to find you very much awake. Your eyes were fixed on the small cluster of people who were at the gate across from yours. Among them was a woman with two children, young enough that they thought this was all so fun and exciting.

“Why do you always say yes?” he asked you, watching you as you watched everything around you.

Your face contorted in confusion but you still didn’t turn to face him. “Hm?”

“When I put in the request for you, why do you always say yes?”

You chuckled, finally facing him. “Why do you keep requesting me?”

“’Cause I know you won’t let me get shot.”

You laughed at that, trying not to be too loud as everyone continued to hunker down to go to sleep. “Yea, I guess that’s fair.” You pulled your legs up, feet resting on the edge of your seat as you wrapped your arms so that your hands interlocked and rested on your shins. “Maybe I just like making sure you don’t get shot.”

He smiled, a tiny grin that was briefly illuminated by another strike of lightning. “Can’t like it that much.”

You arched your brow. “Want me to start saying no? Leave the big bad Colonel all on his own?”

He shook his head at you. “Not what I said. I just, I don’t know.” He crossed his arms, letting them rest over his stomach as he looked at the same place you’d just been looking. “You always seemed like you were looking to settle down. This,” he laughed, “this shit ain’t settled.”

You hummed in amusement as you nodded. “It’s not.” You paused. “I’m just, I don’t know, guess I haven’t really found someone to settle with yet. Not gonna give this up with no reason to.” You waited for him to look at you. “Lucky for you, though, huh?”

He nodded, gave you a quick smirk, but he didn’t say anything else in response. You couldn’t tell if there was more that he wanted to say. Either way, it didn’t matter much. He sunk down a little farther in his chair, long legs stretched out in front of him. The heel of his boots rested just on the far side of his ridiculously large duffle bag, ensuring that no one would be able to try and snatch it without him noticing. You shook your head at the precaution—it didn’t seem like anyone in present company was going to want any of his fatigues and t-shirts that hadn’t been washed in a week. You let him have that, though. You watched as his chin dropped and tucked towards his chest, eyes falling closed even though he probably wouldn’t actually fall asleep for a long time.

“Think you’re ever going to?” you asked, propping your chin on your knees as you did.

His eyes were still shut as he asked, “Ever gonna what?”

“Settle down?”

His eyes slowly opened, muscles tensing as he processed the two-word question. “I don’t know.”

You were nearly kicking yourself for ruining the moment. Things were fine. You didn’t have to pry, but you did it anyway. You just couldn’t let things lie—it was a habit you always meant to work on and never got around to it.

“Sorry,” you said, your voice tentative in a way that it hardly ever was with anyone, least of all with Rick.

He looked at you, brows meeting in confusion. “For what?”

You knew that answering the question was just going to dig a deeper hole, but you also knew that you weren’t going to be able to ignore the question, either. Stubbornness was one of the traits that you and Rick shared.

You shrugged, wishing that you could pull your legs in farther, make yourself smaller and disappear out of this conversation. “It’s not my business. I know that…it’s just…I know since June you sorta just—”

“Got it,” he cut you off.

You fought the urge to sigh with everything in you. You were annoyed with yourself, but you were annoyed with him too. “Right.”

There was just enough of a shift in your tone to keep him hooked into the conversation, even though it was evident that neither of you wanted to continue it. “What?”

You shook your head. “I’m not doing this with you, Rick.” He went to try and argue but you kept talking before he could. “You don’t wanna talk about it so we’re just, we’re not gonna talk about it. Forget I fuckin’ said anything.” There was a long stretch of silence and before you could use any impulse control you said, “But to be fair, you asked me first.”

He sighed. “We doin’ this right now?”

“What this are you referring to, exactly?” you snapped, voice hushed. The rain beating down and echoing against the roof helped to hide some of your conversation.

“Since when do you wanna talk about that? About all my shit? About, about June?” He hesitated on it but he still managed to get the question out. You couldn’t remember the last time he actually said her name.

You were too caught up in your frustration to empathize about it though. “Are you serious?” You let your feet drop back to the floor, adjusting yourself in your chair so that your entire torso was turned and facing him. “You’re gonna sit there and pretend that I’m the one who never wanted to talk about it?” You scoffed. “Fuck’s sake, Rick. The only reason I found out the two of you broke up in the first place was because Boomer made some asshole comment and you nearly tossed him out of the helicopter. You have never wanted to talk to me about all of that. About anything, really.”

Rick’s fists were clenched at his sides, trying to keep himself from getting too defensive but you weren’t making it easy for him. You never did. He didn’t make it easy for himself, either. “Hey—”

“Actually, now that I think about it,” you cut him off, “you never talk to me about anything outside of work. You know all about me, but I don’t know shit about—”

“That’s not true,” he interjected, voice firm enough to give you pause. “That’s bullshit and you know it.”

Your shoulders slumped in defeat at that. He wasn’t wrong. But you weren’t completely wrong either. You both knew plenty about each other but there were always a series of walls that Rick kept up, ones that you never got around to building for yourself. Moments like that made it hard not to feel the distance.

“Whatever,” you finally said, not wanting to give in and actually tell him that he was right.

He was still shaking his head at you as he went back to staring at his boots. “Don’t know why you care so much anyway—not like you ever liked her.”

“What? I,” you sputtered as you shook your head, “I had no problem with June. What are you talking about? I barely even knew her.”

It was true. Outside of the events of Midway City, you had next to no contact with June. Rick was pretty much her sole protective detail, hence how the rest of their entire situation played out. You were part of his team that time around too, although despite being his right hand, you were far from the top of his priority list the way that you were all the times after that when you guys handled ops together. But that was the only time you ever really spent around June, and to say that you really spent it with her would’ve been a stretch even under the most forgiving circumstances. But still, you never had a problem with her.

He let out a sound that was somewhere between a sigh and a chuckle—either way it was full of attitude. “Right.”

You huffed, shaking your head. “Fuck you.”

You angled yourself away from him, turning your body so that you were facing forward again. Part of you wanted to get up and walk to another part of the airport. It would’ve been pointless, though. In just a few more hours the two of you would be sitting next to each other on the plane anyway. There was no escaping him until the trip was over. For a split second, you let yourself indulge in the thought that maybe next time you’d say no when he asked you to tag in.

“Should’ve gotten out when she did,” you mumbled.

You heard the sound of his clothes rustling as he turned to look at you. “What was that?”

You didn’t hesitate, not looking at him but speaking just a little louder, and a whole lot clearer. “I said you should’ve gotten out when she did.” You turned and looked at him, wanting to hit him with the full weight of what you were going to say next. “Maybe then you’d still—”

“Don’t fuckin’ go there,” he said, tone low but brimming with anger.

You rolled your eyes, slumping back against the chair. “Yes, sir.”

There were only about ten seconds between your response and him speaking up again, but those seconds felt like hours to Rick as he tried to force himself to just be honest instead of angry for once. Or at least be honest while he was being angry.

“It was because I wouldn’t give it up,” he finally said, bitterness coating his voice.

Your face scrunched in confusion for a moment before you turned your head to look at him. “What?”

“She left because I wouldn’t give it up. She wanted nothing to do with any of it after everything that happened. I got that. She was just waiting for me to walk away from it too.”

“You got into this shit for her—why didn’t you walk away?”

“Think Waller was just gonna let me walk?”

You shrugged. “Not at first. But she’d get tired of fighting you eventually.” You paused. “She probably would’ve ended your entire military career though.”

“Yeah,” he scoffed, “no thanks.”

“How long did it take her to realize you weren’t gonna quit?” you asked, figuring that if he was gonna open the door you might as well take a peek inside.

He shook his head. “Longer than it should’ve for someone as smart as she is.”

“Love makes you stupid.”

He let out a laugh, one that was one part sadness, one part humor. “Yeah, it does.”

“I’m sorry.”

He shook his head. “Don’t be. Not on you.”

“You really love this shit, huh?” you asked, really processing the full weight of what he was telling you. Rick had turned his whole life on its head to save June. He said it himself that she was the only woman he’d ever really cared about. From the way he was acting during everything leading up to what happened at Midway City, you were certain that he would’ve done anything for her. But apparently not.

If he laughed you couldn’t hear it over the rumbles of thunder. “’Bout as much as I hate it.” He looked over at the windows for a moment, able to see the rain pelting down in the dark, then he looked back at you. “Stupid, right?”

You chuckled quietly. “That’s how you know you love it.”

“What’s your excuse, then?” he asked. “Because I know you sure as shit don’t love this.”

You rolled your eyes, smiling in the hopes that it would hide all of the thoughts that were racing through your brain because of his question. “Just an adrenaline junkie now, I guess.” You looked over at him. “Regular military ops just don’t do it for me anymore.”

He was slowly starting to let the tension drop out of his shoulders, his guard slowly coming back down as the both of you began to get back to some sort of common ground. “That’s it, huh?”

It wasn’t the time to get into it. It probably wouldn’t ever be the time to get into it. “That and, like you said, someone’s gotta keep you from getting shot.”

He was shaking his head at you, but at least this time he was almost smiling while he did it. The two of you had always had that going for you—no matter how quickly things tensed up between you, you usually managed to cool back down almost as quickly. Some of that was from all the years and hours you’d spent together, some of it was because in the situations you found yourselves in out in the field, there was no time for grudges so it was best to just let shit go if you could. But for yourself, you also knew that there was an element of not wanting to hang onto that, not with him. It’s why you’d always say yes when he asked you.

For a few seconds it was quieter than it had been. The rain lightened enough to not be echoing as it fell against the roof. The thunder and lightning subsided, and the conversation between you hit a lull. So when Rick cleared his throat, it seemed louder than it really was.

You turned to look at him and found him already staring at you. You raised your eyebrows, silently prompting him to say whatever it was that he was gearing up for. His brows scrunched for a split second, a final hesitation but he was still going to go through with it.

“We’re…?” he trailed off, his tone enough to fill in the rest of the question for him.

You smiled, nodding. “We’re good. Don’t worry,” you shifted in your chair so that you were leaning against his side, your head resting on his shoulder, “I won’t leave you hanging next time you call.”

He chuckled, wanting to shake his head and come back with a snarky remark, but he didn’t have it in him. Tilting his head, he looked over at you and for the first time in a long time, he felt a pull of something deep in his chest. A feeling that he wasn’t sure he could afford to put too much stock in. He let his head drop to rest against yours. “Thanks.”

#suicide squad #the suicide squad #rick flag #rick flag x reader #rick flag x you #x reader #x reader fic #suicide squad fanfic #the suicide squad fanfic #fanfiction #my writing #drabblesmc #navy and roo's sleepover #navy and roos sleepover #slumber party #slumber party bingo #rick flag fanfiction

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mochie85 · 1 year

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The Chase

These Wicked Games Collection | Complete Masterlist

Summary: You and Loki continue the poker game from earlier in the night. A/N: This is a sequel to my Poker Face fic. You don't have to read that first. But I would greatly appreciate it if you do 🥰. I'm thinking this is going to be part of a collection. This won't be the last time you see this Loki and Reader. This is also my submission for @the-slumberparty Week 2 Challenge: Blast From The Past. Word Count: Over 2.5K Pairing: Loki x Female Reader Warnings: Smut; handcuffs, praise kink, hunter/prey dynamic, bondage, spreader bar- ya, you read that right. Fluff ending.

Loki’s smoldering eyes never left yours as his fingers continued to unbutton his shirt. You deftly shuffled the deck of cards, watching him strip bare in front of you. “A Las Vegas past, you say? I wonder how many other tricks you have up your sleeve, darling.”

You smirked, unable to come up with a witty retort. He had taken off his shirt and was working on the buttons of his trousers. Your eyes roamed his smooth skin. The contours of his muscles made you want to trace each and every line with your tongue.

He quickly unzipped his dress pants and let them pool down to the floor. He stepped out of them and hummed as he spotted you licking your lips at his half-erect cock, growing by the second. “Are you sure you won’t get distracted, darling? You know, we could forego all the formalities and just have our own game instead,” he tempted, coming closer to you. His naked body glistened in the light of the fireplace. And somehow that just made his voice sound deeper, richer, more perilous.

“But where’s the fun in that? Where’s the chase, Mischief?” you smoldered as you walked further away from him. You weren’t going to let him win. You were too proud, too stubborn, to let him get the upper hand.

“Oh, you’d like me to chase you. Is that right?” he provoked, standing proudly as his eyes stalked you moving further into his room, but still maintaining your distance.

Unbeknownst to you, you were already playing a game with the god of mischief. A game that he started earlier that night when he lost his hand to you. You had played right into his trap.

He knew you would win. He didn’t cheat. Although, he could have. It was all too easy after the first round where Barnes and Rogers taught him how to play.

When the rest of the group came, that’s when Loki learned that it was about deception. When Natasha suggested a provocative game of strip poker, he finalized the plans in his head of how he could get you alone.

Loki noticed how everyone was losing an article of clothing besides himself- and of course, you.

You were shrewd. Your canny ability to read everyone’s body language and the ability to mask your own made you so irresistible. So mysterious and intriguing. He wondered how he could break your poker face and finally get past that shield you seem to have put up.

“I have a wager for you,” Loki said in his deep husky voice.

“You’re already naked, Loki. I don’t think there’s anything else I want,” you said cooly, goading him along.

“Are you certain? There’s nothing else I can offer you?” he spoke so sharply you could hear the crinkle of his smile. “At least let me win back some article of clothing,” Loki added.

You expressly ran your stare down his sculpted body. From his strong shoulders down to his veinous arms that were holding onto his sharp hips. You purposely kept your stare on his evident arousal before looking directly into his eyes and grinning.

Confident that you wouldn’t lose, you agreed. “All right. For every hand you win, you can put on an article of clothing,” you stated. Loki smiled. “But what do I get if I win?” you asked.

“For every hand you win, you get a one-second head start before I catch you.” Loki teased. “And trust me, darling, I will catch you,” he said taking one step forward causing you to back away further and deeper into his room. You stood behind his desk, pushing his chair aside as you secured the table between you.

“This won’t stop me, dearest. You can put as many obstacles in my way as you want, but I would still seize my prize.”

Is that a promise? You wanted to ask. “Ok. Let’s make it simple. The game: Blackjack. Are you familiar?” you diverted and resisted the urge to smile. Loki nodded his head. “Wonderful. I’ll deal.”

“Excellent,” he agreed, and you dealt the cards out between you.

In the first two games, you won with 18 and 20, respectively. Loki wanted to see how you would play this out. You had kept your poker face on the entire time, not once giving him an inclination to your thought’s inner workings.

He adapted and analyzed you quickly. After winning a total of five seconds, you felt a sense of confidence and misplaced pride. Loki, standing proudly naked, decided to be riskier with his hits.

You drew the cards and Loki won with 19 to your 17. “All right, Laufeyson. One article of clothing,” you stated, expecting him to put his underwear back on. All Loki did was fold his arms and grin widely.

You felt a heavy weight pull on your left wrist that wasn’t there before. You felt the soft fur lining before you saw that Loki had conjured thin leather cuffs for you.

“Loki? What the hell is this?” holding your hand up for him to see.

“I’m just staking my gains, dear. You said I can add an article of clothing for every hand I win. You didn’t clarify what type of adornment I could add,” he smirked. “And on whom.”

You narrowed your eyes and seethed. “You sly little-”

“Would you expect anything else from me, my dear? Come on, darling. You have your five-second head start. Why don’t you try winning the cuffs off then?”

“All right. Bet.” You shuffled the deck and dealt each of you two cards. Loki won the hand when you busted at 23. Another cuff materialized on your right wrist.

“Are you cheating?” you accused him.

“No. Never with you, my dear. Winning you any other way would taint the joy of having you scream out my name.” He leaned down onto his desk and looked you in your eyes. “When I catch you, darling, I want you to remember that I won fair and square.” The devilish grin he gave you made you swallow. And now you weren’t sure whether you wanted to win or lose.

“Let fate decide,” he answered as if he could read your mind. “Play.”

You dealt out another set of cards. You lost the hand when he hit 20, and you busted at 22. You felt a weight attach itself to your left ankle. Looking down, you saw a cuff that matched the other two on your wrist.

You’re breathing got heavy. Your bravado shattered instantly. “Last game,” you tried to say nonchalantly.

“If you’d like,” Loki granted. “Although, I did want to see how tantalizing your neck would’ve looked adorned with a matching collar.”

You dealt the cards and received two kings. A small glimmer of hope swelled in your chest.

Loki had a Queen of Clubs. “How ironic,” he stated as he turned his other card around revealing an Ace of Spades. 21.

The look on your face fell as you realized that he had won his hand. A new weight was added to your right ankle. The now familiar fur lining rubbing against your skin.

“I suggest you start running, pet,” Loki said so sweetly. You looked up into his greedy eyes and tried to gather your thoughts together. “Five,” he started to count down.

“Four.” At this, you threw the cards onto the desk and ran towards his door, squealing when you passed him.

“Three.” The weight of the cuffs was evident, but not so much that it hindered your speed.

“Two.” Your hands reached for his doorknob, turning it over quickly and opening the door.

“One,” Loki growled in your ear. His hand was on his door, slamming it closed as he pinned you against it. You turned to face him, and he trapped you in between his arms, holding the door closed.

All at once he was everywhere around you, invading all your senses. You could see the craving in his eyes. You could smell the fine hint of his aftershave. You could feel the heat all around you as he caged you in between his arms and body. You could hear nothing but your heartbeat throbbing in time with his breathing.

He leaned down. His bright face was on level with yours. “I don’t think you really tried, pet. Did you want to get caught?”

“You cheat-”

“Ah, ah, ah.” He interrupted, putting his fingers on your lips. “I did not cheat! But what game are you playing at, my dear? Why did you come into my room? In the middle of the night? Certainly not just to play cards. Or maybe…as I stated before…you wanted to get caught.”

“Loki-”

He kissed you. He brought his mouth to yours and moaned as he finally savored the taste of your lips. He pushed you harder against the door and you could feel his hard length twitching against your body. “Tell me you want this…”

“I…unh…” he ground his pelvis into yours and you felt slick wetness coat your panties.

“Tell me, darling. Tell me that you’ve been fantasizing about this as I have,” he whimpered on your neck.

“I have, Loki,” you sighed as he thrust his hips against you again. He growled his desire as he picked you up and carried you over to his bed. He laid you down, his weight, a welcome heaviness that makes your breath hitch.

“Do you trust me?” he whispered, kissing you again on your lips.

“It varies from moment to moment,” you said as he bit your lower lip.

“I’ll take it,” he chuckled at your answer. He gathered your wrist and suspended them above your head. The cuffs attached themselves to a chain that Loki seemed to have conjured. “Pull.” And you did as he instructed. The chain was taut, but the fur lining caressed your skin.

He made his way down your sinful curves followed by the soft kisses of his lips. You hadn’t realized that he removed your clothing already. You lay there, panting heavily as he took in your erotic figure writhing on top of his sheets.

He knelt up at the edge of the bed. His heated touch followed the bows of your calves down to the cuffs adorning your ankles. He took one ankle in each hand and as he separated your legs, a bar had formed in between them, snapping your ankle cuffs in place.

The click of the metal bar echoed throughout his room whispering promises of lurid affairs yet to come.

“You beautiful, courageous creature!” Loki said adoringly. With the bar held in one of his hands, he pushed your knees back towards your head. “How I’m going to love ruining you.” His other hand stroked his hard shaft, placing the weeping tip at your slick entrance.

Slowly, he savored entering your tight walls. Your head was thrown back in pure ecstasy as you felt him strain your pussy.

You tried to clench, tried to close your knees together and indulge in the way he stretched you, but the bar prevented you from closing your legs altogether. As if Loki knew, he gave you a fleeting smile before he lunged himself in, grinding against you when he reached your walls.

He paused only for a moment before he picked up his pace. The erratic moans you cried were drowned out by Loki’s grunts. His hips pounded madly into yours. His hands held onto the bar, using it as leverage against your aching pussy by pushing it down to your chest.

The position left you feeling open and vulnerable. You were left to his whims as he took what he wanted mercilessly. “Unhh…th-that’s it. That’s my girl,” he huffed plunging back into your tightness. “You like being tied up, don’t you sweet thing? Letting me do what I want to your sweet…delectable…mhhmmm…”

His words sent a fire throughout your body. A spark that began in your aching cunt and made you seize up altogether. “L-Loki…I ca…I can’t…fuck…it feels so good.” You felt him push the bar further against your body. Your knees bent to your chest and you came.

You chanted his name as the never-ending wave of pleasure took hold of your body and wouldn’t let go. “Loki. My god…”

He pulled himself out quickly, and with his strength he turned the bar over, causing you to land on your knees. Your face was smothered on the pillow as your peach-shaped cheeks hung in the air. He spanked you, causing you to lose your breath once again.

“Call me your god again and I’ll bless you with the most spiritual enlightenment you’ll ever have.” Loki sank himself inside you. Your cries of ecstasy muffled against his pillows.

The position was different. The angle of his thrust went deeper. You could feel almost every vein. Every torturous pull of his shaft along your tight walls. Your legs were spread, your hands bound to the headboard. You felt like nothing more than a toy to the god who was giving you a glimpse of heaven.

Loki’s breathing got heavier. His thrust got more erratic and you could feel his thighs shake behind yours. You felt his chest against your back as he fell on top of you. He tried holding himself up, losing the fight against your hot slit.

You could hear his pleasure. His rhythmic grunts against your ear. “You’re so good for me.” The torrid whispers and compliments about your body. “Th-that’s it. Take it. Take it like a good girl.” You were close again. “Unnh…faen…Gods you’re amazing!”

At his praise, you shattered into another orgasm. He held your shoulders down, trying to gain more leverage as Loki came inside you. He felt the clutch of your muscles. The velvet of your sex trying to keep him inside you and he couldn’t help but have the widest grin of satisfaction on his face.

He pulled out slowly and watch as his spent dribbled down your thighs. “Loki…” you moved to get up.

“Don’t,” he warned.

“But-”

“I said. Don’t. Move.” You felt him get off the bed. Moments later a warm towel graced your thighs. He moved to cup your heated folds and when he finished, he quickly turned the bar and put you right to your back again.

With the snap of his fingers, both the bar and the cuffs dematerialized. He lifted one ankle and massaged it. He kissed where the cuffs used to be and gently set it down before reaching for your other ankle. He followed with your wrist. Ensuring that they weren’t blistered or cut.

His quiet reverence of your body contested with what he just did to it. “So, you’ve been fantasizing about me?” You asked, breaking the silence between you.

“I have,” he simpered.

“How long?”

“As long as you have.”

“That’s-”

“Shh.” Loki crawled up to you and ran his nose against your cheek while peppering kisses on your skin. You closed your eyes and savored the intimacy he was showing. “Sleep, love. Ask me your questions tomorrow.” He wrapped his blanket around you and nestled into the crook of his shoulder.

“All right,” you whispered, slowly drifting off into slumber. “But don’t think I won’t forget!” you threatened cherubically.

“I look forward to it,” Loki smiled as he watched you fall asleep in his arms.

⬅️Chapter 1: Poker Face | Chapter 3: 20 Questions➡️

🏷️@emarich7 @michelleleewise @coldnique @vickie5446 @psychospore @mukagentropy @lokisgoodgirl @silverfire475 @fictive-sl0th @springdandelixn @wheredafandomat @goldencherriess @peaches1958 @salempoe @thomase1 @kkdvkyya @a-witch-with-words @mischief2sarawr @sarawr-reads @vbecker10 @peachymallows @irishhappiness @cakesandtom @simplyholl @here4thefanfics @tallseaweed @gigglingtigger @holdmytesseract @immersed-in-mischief @joyful-enchantress @lovelysizzlingbluebird @loopsisloops @muddyorbsblr @luvlady-writes @kellatron55 @huntress-artemiss @crimson25 @purplegrrl27 @sarahscribbles @ladyofthestayingpower @ozymdias @lokixryss @athalialaufeyson @thedistractedagglomeration @theotherspiderlady @cheekyscamp

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the-slumberparty · 3 months

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For this challenge, you get to choose a type of love (or many) and put your own spin on a trope. (See below)

Find an accessible PDF list of prompts HERE.

ℝ𝕦𝕝𝕖𝕤

💕 This challenge is open to all fandoms and characters.

💞Dark creations are accepted but we will not accept underage, incest, or bestiality. Please don’t forget to add warnings to your works appropriately.

💓 For written pieces, there are no word count limits, but we do ask that you add a “read more” beyond 500 words.

💖 We hope that creators can create an inclusive work and encourage writers and creators to use appropriate tagging, ie, f!reader, etc..

💗 For this challenge, we will accept sequels or continuations to previous works. Please be sure to link the original work in your submission.

💘 Creators may submit three pieces of each medium (up to three visual pieces and up to three written pieces)

❤️‍🔥Be kind to yourself and to others. We are here to support and include each other.

💝This is an event for February 2024, with a final due date of March 4, 2024 for late submissions.

!Tag this blog in your submission so we see it.!

#navy and roo's sleepover #writing challenge #creator challenge #monthly challenge #february 2024 #typesoflovesleepover

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raven-at-the-writing-desk · 1 month

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hello!

I’ve been thinking about this prompt for awhile now, but I’d like to hear your takes on it! if say another event like lost in the book happened but instead of stitch, they meet Winnie the Pooh and his friends— which of the cast do you think would relate most to the characters?

I uh 😅 don’t know a lot about Winnie the Pooh or its characters, so my thoughts here are based on very, veeery basic understandings of them.

Pooh — His defining trait is his loyalty and willingness to help others, so I automatically don’t see many of the NRC boys relating to Pooh’s softness. He might be a better fit with one of the light cosmic element boys (Kalim, Silver, even Rook) or Yuu.

Piglet — He’s soft spoken and always nervous or worrying about something. I think of Epel and Idia as the "soft spoken" ones of the group, but Idia is the more generally anxious one. Epel's only really "shy and meek" when he's forced to act more polite; his true personality is much rowdier and more stubborn.

Tigger — Tigger is bright and enthusiastic. Any number of the cheerier members of the main cast could fit here with him: Cater, Kalim, etc. I would say Sebek (at least when it's a Malleus-related task or sentiment) works.

Eeyore — The most “different” of the Pooh cast; Eeyore tends to be down in the dumps and/or unenthusiastic. I see Idia and Leona best relating to Eeyore, since the former is usually pessimistic about everything while the latter has depressive symptoms that he usually masks with arrogant confidence.

Rabbit — Prideful and stubborn self-appointed leader, but ready to hop into action when he is called upon. Most of the dorm leaders could honestly slot in nicely here, particularly Riddle (whom we see in book 6 trying to be the "leader" of his group with Azul and has a generally very rigid way of thinking).

Kanga and Roo — Loving mother and curious, adventurous son duo. Various combinations can work here, although each pairing kind of represents a different kind of parent-child or general familial relationship. (Vil and Epel, Trey and Riddle, Idia and Ortho, Leona and Cheka, Jamil and Kalim, etc.) It really depends on how you want to look at it.

Owl — A know-it-all who actually dispenses the wrong information more often than not. I'd say Lilia or Jade is most Owl-like. They're the most likely to share false knowledge, but unlike Owl, it doesn't come from a place of genuinely not knowing but rather purposefully fucking up the information to mess with people.

Christopher Robin — A kind and helpful boy who shares his stories with the animals of the 100 Acre Woods. I wasn’t sure if I should include him here, but the Disney website lists him as a core member of the cast so I thought, “might as well!” Since Christopher Robin is the "odd one out" who shares stories with everyone, which i think it suits Yuu (the photographer/one who records memories) quite well.

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thaumasilva · 3 months

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me thinking about kingfisher grian and elytra & winged players headcanons (hermitcraft once again has its claws in me) / 701 words, snippet

“Are you back from endbusting?” Grian calls down.

Impulse shifts on his horse. “We might’ve, uh, gotten a little something for you here. If you want to come take a look.”

Grian scampers down the mountain, taking a not-insignificant amount of cracks to his boots, and crouches in front of them. Wordlessly, Impulse switches to holding an elytra in his hand.

“Oh!” shouts Grian.

“Now d’you want it now, or do you want to earn it?” Impulse asks, but is quickly cut over by noises of dissent from Grian and Iskall.

“Nah nah nah nah nah gimme gimme gimme,” says Grian, darting forward to pick up the elytra. It’s maybe a little greedy, but he’s been busy! Most people on the server who want wings have got them already, he’s just been stuck here with Rodney and finding all those rare blue blocks for his build.

“I think he’s already done his time,” Iskall says with a muffled laugh, echoing Grian’s thoughts exactly. “Here in the overworld.”

“Oh, sure, sure,” laughs Impulse. “Go on then, let’s see it! You haven’t gotten them yet, have you?” “Fresh new wings,” says Iskall.

“Yeah, fresh new season!” Impulse’s horse rears up for a second. “You ready?”

“I was born ready,” answers Grian. “This is the best part of the season!”

[Grian has gained the achievement: Sky’s the Limit]

He says that, but tossing on the straps of the elytra, he always forgets how good it feels-- suddenly, an uplifting, dizzying rush fills his entire being. It’s the world’s most satisfying morning stretch packed into a few seconds of magic, Grian shaking his torso to wriggle his way into two new limbs arching out from his back. The elytra pops off. In its place, a pair of sharpish wings, thin and nimble, coated in the most gorgeous iridescent cyan. Their undersides are a ruddy pink, like terracotta, or cherry blossoms, and they fade out softly at the flight feathers.

Impulse and Iskall cheer, and Grian yells out his own satisfaction, giving his new wings a few test-flight flaps. They go with his base! Last season’s set was fun in their own right, heavy as a wool shawl and bulky with moss and skulk shot through the gray, but these look acrobatic. Probably the most dynamic he’s ever gotten on Hermitcraft.

“Are they real?” asks Iskall, spurring his horse forward with interest. “Not like are they real, but are they fantasy, or…?”

“Like a real species,” Impulse finishes. “Yeah, I don’t know. I don’t know any birds that look like that. They look tropical!”

“Maybe I picked the wrong base location, maybe I should go shack up with Etho,” Grian adds, although a bit distractedly, pushing his wings as far forward as he can to get a good look at them. His wings are always unique, season to season, server to server. The past two go-arounds he’s had weird wings, that didn’t quite match up with any living bird, that were a bit more… adaptive to the season’s antics, instead of the chicken and parrot he’d had before. Something about these blue ones seem like a return to baseline, though. He’s got to find out.

“Hey there, Gem!” Impulse shouts.

They turn to see her wading across the river, darting up onto land with her headband’s tie streaming behind her. “Grian! You got your wings!”

“Hallo there, Gem,” says Iskall, riding up to meet her. “We were talking about if Grian’s wings here are a fantasy bird like the last few times, or if he’s something… more observable.” He mimes holding a spyglass up to Grian. Grian takes a hop-skip and a jump and glides down to them, relishing the air through his feathers again.

“He’s very shiny!” Impulse shouts.

“I can see that,” says Gem, admiring, and then her face twists up in laughter. Apprehension shoots through Grian.

“What--” he starts.

“Grian!” Gem shrieks, and throws back her head in such crying laughter that she nearly falls over, stumbling back. She covers her face and then gives up on hiding. “You’re-- you’re a kingfisher!”

“No,” says Grian instantly, as Impulse and Iskall begin an uproar. “No!” He spins on the spot, outraged. “Really? Aw, really?”

#roo's writing #hermitcraft #grian #hermitcraft fic #hermitcraft s10 #t #avian grian

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kangaracha · 1 month

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QUEENMAKER | CHAPTER 13

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pairing chan x reader

genre ninth member au, angst, fluff, coming of age, social media, cancel culture, anxiety, depression, forbidden love,

summary To JYPE, the solution is simple; take the sole trainee that will not debut with your brand new girl group, and use her to replace the missing vocalist in your male group that insisted on starting as nine.

Unfortunately, to the fans and the members themselves, it isn't that simple.

status ongoing

taglist OPEN

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The way that Chan slumps straight down onto your sofa suggests that it has either been a long day or he is expecting a long night ahead. You're almost too scared to ask which is true; not that there's a way for you to wheedle out of blame for either being difficult. It's all related to you joining the group, and whatever was going on with your schedule.

In the end, Chan doesn't give you a chance to ask, his eyes roving around the apartment. "Your dorm is nice," he comments, in the sort of voice that would insinuate his isn't nice if you hadn't already seen it.

You glance around too, at the white walls and years-old pieces of furniture that clutter the space. They've all seen many singers come and go before you, and then were never built for that kind of handing down - but they're robust, if not entirely pretty. Dependable as a place to keep a home. "It's alright," you say, sinking into the seat beside him. "It's small. There's no way all eight of you would fit."

"It's loud enough in our dorm," Chan agrees, cutting a grin. "You should have seen when there was nine of us living on top of each other in one dorm."

Nine of us. Not you, of course, but the long-gone boy you were supposed to replace. You're not sure how the echo of the words over inside your head makes you feel. Somewhere in the back of your mind, you're distinctly aware that you've never heard him say that before (not even since you joined; always, it was the eight of them and one of you).

"Nightmareish," you say dryly, but the response is lacklustre, the joke weak and watery. Chan's smile fades.

"I guess I should stop stalling," he says, mistaking your tone for a different kind of distraction.

For two weeks, a heavy, curling tension has been holding itself steady in your gut; at the reminder of it now, it clenches its fist tight, your ribcage retracting and your breath shallow. You're going to debut, Minseo had said, and you'd thought it and thought it and thought it; but surely, it was unbelievable-

"I want you to perform at K-Con," Chan says, before the thought can finish flashing through your mind, and you freeze. "Not the whole concert, just God's Menu, or whatever you're confident in. Anything you want."

"Isn't K-Con in three weeks?" you question, and try to ignore the pounding of your heart in your chest. "You want me to debut in three weeks?"

A light dances in his eyes, that funny, coy smile he wears when he wants to mess with someone playing on his lips. "Technically, it doesn't count as a debut until the album comes out."

You’re seized by the sudden urge to push him off the couch - not that your hands move. You're still stuck in place, fingers twisted together in your lap; and even if you weren't, it's one thing to make playful threats in a text under his encouragement. It's another to enact them in real life, when he wants to sit across from you and offer you all of your dreams-

"Why?" you blurt out, and then realise belatedly that that might be just as rude as the actions you were trying to avoid.

Not that he cares, that smile slowly fading into something that isn't anger or humour. Even if you'd asked in Korean, you're pretty sure he wouldn't have minded. He was always telling you there was no hierarchy within this group, no reason to treat him with any respect.

"Because I want to," he insists. "The company agreed that you're ready - and you are ready. You've worked really hard."

You can't stop staring at him; that smile that's plastered across his face, the order of the words that come out of his mouth. You can't put your finger on why it gives you a bad feeling, and yet...something is off. You're sure of it. There's something he's not saying.

But what would he be keeping from you? Your mind wanders back through the things you know about him, the conversation you've had. Is this about the agreement you made, that you would stop working so hard once debut came? But he had just offered you a loophole out of that...and you've never known him to be that kind of sly anyway. Unless you don't know him as well as you think you do - which you suppose would be disappointing but not unexpected-

"What's wrong?" he asks, that pleased smile slipping from his face, and you can see it there under the crack; the secret, and the worry that holds itself stiff in his shoulders as he wonders if you've figured it out.

You have to take a deep breath first, and then another. The air won't quite reach the bottom of your lungs.

"It just doesn't make sense," you say, as kindly as you can. Your fingers twist at each other, tight enough to hurt.

"Doesn't it?" Chan asks. "You're ready for this, I promise."

"No," you say, certainty growing with every moment. "There's something you're not telling me."

Chan looks desperate. "There's nothing else to it."

He's a bad liar. You shake your head. "I'm just going to worry about it if you don't tell me."

"It's not something you should worry about," he insists. "I've got it under control."

"But there is something."

"No."

"You just admitted there's something."

He stops, thinking back through what he's said. Blanches. "Chan," you say, leaning forward, your elbows braced on your knees. You're surprised by the surprise on his face at the way you say his name - strong and unquestioning, free of honourifics and any kind of doubt. "Don't keep secrets from me. Please."

It's the weak little please at the end that makes him waver, the cracks of your resolve on the second syllable as the doubt over how far you can reasonably push him sinks its teeth in. He's still not angry though; if anything, he's scared, apprehension holding his tongue and reeling him, straight-backed, into the couch.

"It's better if you don't know," he says like he's delivering an apology. "I don't keep secrets. I just don't tell you things that are only going to hurt you. It's the same for all the boys - I don't see a reason in upsetting any of you when I've already resolved it."

You digest this slowly, your frustration melting word by word. "You're a really good leader," are the first words that blurt out of your mouth, a compliment that has him shaking his head and avoiding your gaze before the words are even out of your mouth. "And I appreciate it. Really."

There's a pause where you swallow the words that were about to come out of your mouth, too afraid to voice criticism, to risk the tenuous position you've built for yourself here.

"But?" Chan prompts as soon as the silence gets too loud.

Breathe.

"But," you say, intentionally slowing yourself down to one word at a time, "I've been around long enough to know when something's up, and I've looked after myself long enough to be able to handle it. If it's about debut and my career, I want to know what it is. Hurtful or not."

Chan's mouth twists unhappily. "I understand," he answers - and though he looks unhappy, you don't disbelieve him. "But also, you're not alone anymore. You're one of my people now, and it's my job to look after my people."

"I know that." Your hands are trembling, you realise suddenly, your head buzzing from the thrum of your heart beating in your ears. "And I know you like taking care of people and making sure the others never have to worry and all of that, but...that doesn't work for me. If I think something happened and I don't know what it is, I'm only going to sit here and think about it."

Inexplicably, a small smile twists at Chan's mouth, his eyes softening. "That's not going to help any more than me telling you is," he says lightly.

"Yeah," you sigh, leaning back. "I know."

For a moment, silence falls, the tension in the air unwinding itself into something a little more comfortable as you work your way through all the things you think you should say. Chan waits patiently; understanding, maybe, that you need a moment to think, that what you're trying to say might not come out the right way the first time you say it. That would be nice. It already feels like you're risking everything to have this conversation.

"Don't baby me," you say eventually, and then cringe at how blunt the statement sounds coming out of your mouth. "I'm old enough, I can handle whatever it is. I've taken care of myself all this time."

"You're not alone anymore though," Chan repeats, stronger this time.

"I still want to know what's happening though," you insist. "Where I stand with you, or the company, or - whatever it is. Even in a group, it's my career. I deserve to know."

"Okay," Chan says, and then again, "Okay." He stops for a moment, eyeing you appraisingly, and then says, "It's important to me that you listen to what I'm saying though. You're not alone anymore. We're a family, and we work so well because we're all committed to each other. If you want to be a part of this, you have to be as well. Do you understand?"

Your chin dips towards your chest - first in a nod, and then to stare at your hands rather than the unyielding intensity of his gaze, waiting for your answer. Waiting to see if he should be worried about you and whatever commitment he's made to you without you knowing. "I'm trying," you say, and you try your best to colour your voice in that raw honesty that burns at your chest. "I really am - I just don't want to pretend to be one of you if you're not all ready to accept me. I don't want to just come in and say I'm part of Stray Kids, I'm the same as the rest of you who have been here from the start-"

"You are one of us," he says over the top of you, cutting you off short. "We've all accepted you. If you want, in the morning, we can go and ask every single member and they'll tell you the same thing, but I need...I need you to let go of that. Forget Midnight and all the other groups that you nearly joined and being by yourself, and be part of Stray Kids. That's the person I want to show to Stay next month. That's the person I need in this group."

You swallow hard, blinking back tears. It feels big, this moment - bigger than the climax of any reality show, or the flight and fall of your time in Midnight, or the countless monthly evaluations that have passed you by in your time here. Bigger than auditions and leaving your home behind, the hardest moment you'd once thought you'd live through, when you were younger and less wary of the world. And for it to be Chan that sits there and asks this of you, his heart on his sleeve and his nature so honest and well intentioned, so hard to let down-

"I can do that," you say, around a tongue that feels thicker and heavier than it was before, a mouth stuffed full of cotton. You look up, meeting his eyes, and you're surprised to find a smile there, slowly lifting his face and crinkling at the corners of his eyes. Pleased. Relieved.

"Okay," he says, a breath blowing out with the word. "Good. Because I really want to keep you."

"Good," you echo. "Because I really want to stay."

He laughs; a small, soft thing that unwinds the tension in your chest. You pull in another breath, push back the tears again; preparing for what you need to say next.

"I meant what I said earlier though," you add, your shoulders squaring and your jaw clenched tight. "This is important to you, and it's important to me that I know exactly what's going on."

You hate watching that smile struggle and fade again, gone as quickly as you had earned it. "You're not going to like it," he warns, but he doesn't try to fend you off again.

"That's okay," you sigh. "Nothing unusual."

His mouth twists against words that he decides not to say. "The company offered last week to let us continue as eight members," he admits, one of his hands reaching up to pick mindlessly at the pillow of your couch. "They were pretty insistent about it, actually. I told them we wanted to be nine."

Your gaze turns sharp, your head swivelling to stare at him. "Why?" you ask, your voice gasping - because you can't fathom, after the back-and-forth of the last three months and the drama of delaying your debut when they'd been so hell-bent on revealing you in time for the last album, why they would turn around and try to take you out just as quickly.

"Because God's Menu did so well." Chan shrugs. "We weren't doing very well as a group before that; the last two albums were rough, and losing a member...I guess they thought without him we weren't ever going to be able to do as well as we did at debut, and then we went and proved to them that we are profitable as eight members. And they thought they could just use you as a backup plan."

"And you-"

"I told them they already spent the last three months fucking around to make us a nine member group, so we're going ahead as nine." You're surprised at the way his voice turns sharp, the hardening of his eyes and the dig of his fingers into the cushion. "They asked me if you were ready to debut, and I told them you could debut at our next concert if they wanted - which I probably shouldn't have said, because they decided that was a great idea, but-"

It's him that's rambling now, you that cuts across him with a, "Chan." He stops short, looking up at you with eyes that remind you of how you'd felt just moments ago - unsure, wary of how you're going to react. Sure that you're going to be angry for some reason, even though what he's done is...

"Thank you," you say, your voice dropping away to almost nothing - tears well in the corners of your eyes, unbidden, dripping down your cheeks even though your throat aches with the effort of trying to swallow them back down. "No one's ever done anything like that for me before."

"Hey, don't cry," he says, alarmed. His weight shifts across the couch, his arms reaching out - before you can wave him away, they envelop you in a hug, pulling you into his chest. It's been a long time since you hugged anyone; you're surprised at just how much you didn't know that you missed this kind of comfort, the tightening of someone else's arms around you and the warmth of another body close.

"You better get used to it," he says over the tuck of your head into his shoulder, your tears drying on his hoodie. "You're stuck with me now."

"You didn't even ask me first," you say, and listen to the way he laughs. "I'm going to do a good job at K-Con. I promise."

"We'll talk about it tomorrow," he says, before you can continue on. "We're going to have to plan how to show those idiots that they were wrong."

"It's my special talent," you joke weakly. "They haven't got rid of me yet."

You can hear the satisfied smile on his face, the amused huff of breath that ghosts over the top of your head. "And they never will," he says, and it sounds like a promise. A prophecy.

TAGLIST

@kokinu09 @rainfallingfromthesky @lixie-phoria @mysweethannie @chlodavids @hanniemylovelyquokka @tfshouldidohere @lauraliisa @puppysmileseungmin @kalopsian-thoughts @puppy-minnie @readerofallthingss @dvbkie099 @kthstrawberryshortcake-main @acker-night @d-chagi @lynlyndoll @borahae-reads @ihrtlix @yienmarkk @minhwa @i2innie @jinnie-ret @conwunder @amesification @starssongs98 @weirdhumanbeinglol @morinuu @the-weird-mold-in-the-sink @bokkiesplace @amyyscorner @jiisungllvr @skzstaykatsy @blackhairandbangs @jungkookies1002 @hyuuukais @imsiriuslyreal @thatonedemigodfromseoul @gini143 @mercurywritesstuff @splat00z @filmbypsh @palindrome969 @crabrangoongirl25 @enzos-shit @jabmastersupriseee @kayleefriedchicken @slutfortits @duhgurl @cheshireshiya

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im-not-batman · 1 year

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DP has an aneurism.

Peter, on a dare gets his nipples peirced and when Wade finds out, he... reacts.

"You're a softie, Baby Boy," Wade flung an arm out, jovially rapping Peter on the chest. Harmless enough on any other night, but quiet painful on this one.

He made a poorly supressed yelp and tried to hide behind his burrito.

"What the hell was that, Webs? Are you okay?" Ever the detail-oriented mercenary, Wade latched onto the reaction like a limpet.

"I'm fine," he attempted a brush off, fixing his posture, "it's nothing."

"Nuh-uh, Websy," he must have noted Peter's shift in posture and immediately forgot about the balloon, and started patting down his torso, "is it your ribs? Punctured lung? Organ failure?"

All of a sudden, his masked eyes widened and he dropped both the balloon and his chimichanga to slap both hands to his cheeks, "What the shit, Spidey?!" He grasped Peter's arms and flung them out to his sides to get a good look at the clearly visible bars, "are you secretly rogueish and sexy? Well, the sexy part isn't a secret, duh, but the rogueish part. Or maybe you have a sordid backstory you have yet to share with the class?" Then he stage-gasped dramatically, "do you have tattoos?!"

You can read the whole fic on Ao3 :)

#spiderman and deadpool #spideypool #spiderpool #spiderman x deadpool #spiderman #deadpool #joe kelly comics #spider man/deadpool #fanfic #spideypool fanfic #piercings #crack fic #roo writes

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rockermazy · 2 months

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Yay - I get to share my love for tidbit Hazbin lore while sharing knowledge that makes me look like a millennial boomer XD ahem... Alastor, our favorite overlord, for all intents and purposes, is a fucking elemental. His abilities are absolutely terrifying from a scientific standpoint. Okay, so remember how during the "Stayed Gone" number, Vox starts glitching out and "loses his signal" - and then the Pride ring subsequently has a blackout? That is entirely Alastor's (or whatever the fuck is benefactoring him) doing. Radio can do that. No horseshoe magnet required. IRL stuff. Despite being digital enough to render a bluescreen when compromised, Vox may still have older hardware from his former days as a rabbit-eared, thick cathode-ray tube.

And Alastor is our radio demon. Keep this in mind. IRL, once upon a time, during the 1940s - before digital television - there was no "Channel 1". That's because in the US, a very long time ago, both radio and TV shared the band that we call "Channel One":

"Until 1948, Land Mobile Radio and television broadcasters shared the same frequencies, which caused interference. This shared allocation was eventually found to be unworkable, so the FCC reallocated the Channel 1 frequencies for public safety and land mobile use and assigned TV channels 2–13 exclusively to broadcasters. Aside from the shared frequency issue, this part of the VHF band was (and to some extent still is) prone to higher levels of radio-frequency interference (RFI) than even Channel 2 (System M)." (https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Channel_1_(North_American_TV))

Then for a short stint, Channel One was exclusively reserved for radio:

Channel 1 was allocated at 44–50 MHz between 1937 and 1940. Visual and aural carrier frequencies within the channel fluctuated with changes in overall TV broadcast standards prior to the establishment of permanent standards by the National Television Systems Committee. In 1940, the FCC reassigned 42–50 MHz to the FM broadcast band. Television's channel 1 frequency range was moved to 50–56 MHz. Experimental television stations in New York, Chicago, and Los Angeles were affected. (https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Channel_1_(North_American_TV))

Every local TV channel and radio station has a frequency range on the electromagnetic spectrum. For those who still listen to radio on non-internet-reliant radios devices, those funny little numbers next to a station's name are a ballpark number for the frequency the station broadcasts in the Hertz unit. A Hertz (Hz) is one wave per second. A KiloHertz (KHz) is 1,000 waves per second. A GigaHertz (GHz) is 1 billion waves per second. Modern AM radio stations are 535-1605 kHz Modern FM radio stations are 88-108 MHz TV VHF Channels 2 thru 13 are 54-216 MHz TV UHF Channels 14 thru 36 are 470-608 MHz And no, that's not a discrepancy between VHF and FM radio: the frequencies designated for FM radio are nestled right in there with TV ones. FM radio is between Channels 6 and 7.

(chart from http://hyperphysics.phy-astr.gsu.edu/hbase/Audio/radio.html) Even today, radio and TV are slightly shuffled in there in regards to designated frequencies. That implies that depending on Alastor's band of preference, Vox could theoretically hear Alastor's broadcasts of screaming victims without an actual radio nearby. This would be especially true if Vox still has some of his older hardware. In fact, in older televisions where a knob is used to change channels, much of the static you'd hear in-between channels is actually background radiation from deep space - along with any interference from man-made sources. No wonder Vox is obsessed with Alastor. Alastor can torment him in an in-between realm-channel like Freddy Kruger.

Yet, if radio signals were only a Vox problem, why did nearly every light and electronic device go out in the Pride except the emergency lights at the Heaven embassy?

It might depend on how we define the word "radio". Is it radio, as in "those radio stations we can listen to without the internet"? Maybe radio, as in any frequency utilized in modern communications, including TV and Radio? Or is it radio, as in "almost any signal on the electromagnetic spectrum with a frequency lower than friggin' heat?" People, below is an over-simplified chart of the electromagnetic spectrum and usages.

When radio is defined as a specific part of the electromagnetic spectrum, it is literally any frequency below infrared. *** Cellphone service and WiFi use radio signals within this range. Most cellular services are between 600 MHz and 39 GHz WiFi routers are about 2.4-5 GHz (6 GHz in newer models) That's where the "G" in "4G" and "5G" come from - the "G" stands for "Gigahertz" Radio, local television, cellphone service, WiFi, and basically any point in the internet that isn't linked by a landline - these are all safely within the part of the electromagnetic spectrum that the scientists would call "radio". If Hell's technology mirrors the real world, all electronic devices need radio frequencies in order to communicate. The VVV's empire is truly fucked, should Alastor so choose. The only plot hole I'm seeing in this explanation is why all the lights went out. These devices don't run on radio - they communicate using it. My best-educated guess is that the on/off switch for Hell's power grid is on an open network and at least part of it wireless. Or maybe Alastor's radio attack work like general EMP and just breaks stuff. I'm not an expert on these sorts of things. I politely ask that someone in the comments, please enlighten me U.U ------------------------------------- Also, when taking screenshots, I realized that Cannibal Town and the Heaven Embassy were the only places with lights on during the blackout.

is that...?

Cannibal Town?

If this is, in fact, Cannibal Town, then my only guess is that the Cannibals are so hipster, that most of them light their homes and businesses with candlelight and leviathan whale oil. Neither of which rely on wifi. Only some of their region's light was lost in the blackout. They might use some electricity, but they don't rely on it. This suggests that Alastors friendship with Rosie might be less of an organic friendship and more like a strategically slick alliance. Rosie's territory is one part of Pride that Alastor can't completely shut down (other than the Embassy). But, who knows?

Alastor's derision of modern tech now seems to have more merit than just being "hipster" or avoiding a digital footprint (which I used head-canon). Alastor can literally just shut that crap down. This might also suggest why Alastor is homies with Zestial - another old-timey prick.

Alastor makes alliances with demons he can't easily overpower with his abilities. This might look self-contradictory considering Alastor felt comfortable teasing Lucifer - until you realize Alastor did so only after he knew angels could be killed. (And yes, I know what I wrote about Alastor a couple of notes back with the "popsicle" evaluation. I don't consider flip-flopping a moral issue if done so by epiphany. That one stays, because it's funny XD ) ----------------------- Another theory! Ok, so this theory isn't entirely my own-own, I'm just building off of it based on what I've said (mostly Roo stuff). So, IRL scientists decided to take an image of the observable universe in the microwave range. Microwave energy is in the upper ends of radio, but just below infrared in frequency. What they found was cosmic background radiation - a lot of energy which isn't coming from the stars themselves.

(Image source: https://www.space.com/33892-cosmic-microwave-background.html) Some scientists theorize this is because this particular energy is left over from the formation of the universe. So about Roo:

In the first non-pilot episode, The Story of Hell as read by Charlie, states that the angels of pure light "worshipped good and shielded all from evil." During this line, imagery of two faces are shown before the angels: one face of light and another face of twisted red and black.

Subsequent lines and imagery in the episode suggest that this "evil" existed before Lucifer fell or Eve allowed this evil to enter the world - even before the Earth was created. Some Tumblrs who have been in this fandom longer than I have will know of Roo, a character that appears in VivziePop's older works. Some of Roo's monikers include "The Root of All Evil" and the "Tree of Knowledge". I'm wondering if in the Hellaverse, cosmic background radiation of the universe is a manifestation of Roo when she isn't bound to a tree. Did Alastor bite the apple the second third time for mankind? XD

------------------------------------------------- While researching for this paper, I learned that microwave ovens and 2G cell phones operate within the same frequencies at around 2 GHz. Apparently, the only reason the cell phone doesn't cook your brain is because the wattage is too low. I dunno what that means. I'm not a scientist. But now, Alastors singing lines in S1E8 have me thinking: "The constraints of my deal surely have a back door Once I figure out how to unclip my wings, guess who will be pulling all the strings" Knowing what Alastor's abilities are capable of, this has me wondering whether Alastor is being empowered by one cosmic entity, while being chained by someone else entirely. Someone might have gone out of their way to get Alastor into a contract, if only to keep him from cooking the universe for his viewing pleasure... on a glass plate.

Cooking souls in microwaves would require that they be at least partially made of water, however. Buuuut... I guess if there are working ACs in Hell, I really shouldn't read too much into it XD -------------

Do you think the mad scientists from Helluva Boss ever chat over coffee about the abilities of the overlords based on casual observation? Then one time, Alastor's name comes up... ...and after four minutes, they're both just like "Nope"?

{END} *** Note: Googling "Electromagnetic Spectrum charts" will yield different results. Some charts will have different designations frequencies lower than radio, like Extremely Low Frequencies (ELF). I do not know whether this difference is a reflection of a newer categorization, or if most charts online are made for laymen such as myself. Most charts I saw years ago only designated "radio" as "everything below microwave". I want to assume that the "only radio below microwave" categorization went into the writer's designing of Alastor's character simply because it is more common while making for a more interesting power scaling.

______________ Disclaimer: I am composed of chauffeur knowledge. I know nearly nothing about communication science little about radiation stuff. I just took an astronomy elective once, so I sorta knew where to look. I have no idea what the fuck I'm talking about. I know that I confused frequency and wavelength somewhere. Please, #sciencesideoftumblr feel free to correct me. ----------------- TLDR: Most tech IRL use radio waves to communicate. That Includes TVs, WiFi and cell phones. Radio Demon can make the Pride Ring go kaploowee just looking at it funny.

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel theory #hazbin hotel alastor #hazbin hotel vox #hazbin hotel vvv #hazbin hotel vees #science #science side of tumblr #please help me #i'm absolutly sure i mixed up frequency and wavelength somewhere #I'm not a communications expert #i flunked chemistry in high school and i can't write my name in cursive #chauffeur knowledge #hazbin hotel rosie #hazbin hotel lucifer #hazbin hotel zestial #hazbin hotel roo

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pollyna · 1 year

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The day Bradley gets married the bow tie is crooked and doesn't matter how many times he tries it never looks right. It's a second away from switching it with a tie, the one he brought just in case, when a couple of hands take over the black fabric.

"Twenty years and I still have to do this, Baby Goose?" a low voice says, from behind his back.

"And you'll probably have to do it for the next thirty babe" another voice answers.

Bradley isn't going to cry he swears or tears up because the last time he heard from dad things were getting worse and worst but now they're both there, pops sipping champagne and dad making his bow tie.

"Just like when I was fifteen, old man?"

"Just like when you were fifteen, baby goose" Ice answers, smiling before Bradley finds himself pressed between his dads and the promise of not crying flies out of the window faster than the jet they fly but nobody care.

#bradley rooster bradshaw #tom iceman kazansky #pete maverick mitchell #icemav #i don't care to whom roo gets married to i just want ice to make his bowtie like when he was fifteen #tom iceman kazansky lives #gentle teasing #i have to write slooserole why i'm not writing the slooserole 😭😭😭😭#tom iceman kazansky & pete maverick mitchell are bradley rooster bradshaw's parents

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navybrat817 · 1 year

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Did you see the Sebastian photo with him in the leather jacket and Bucky hair? The black and white one? He looks so good!!!!!!!!

Is it the image below, nonnie? If so, yes! He looks amazing. So much that I had to share more rocker!Bucky. If not, I'm happy to receive the pic.

Everybody Wants a Taste

Pairing: Rocker!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader Summary: Are you really Bucky's girl? He thinks so. Word Count: Over 1.5k Warnings: Implied explicit sexual content, oral implied (m. and f. receiving), possessive behavior, slight jealousy and insecurity, swearing, slight feels (it's me), sort of getting together, communication is key, Rocker!Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?). A/N: Some White Wolf and Luna that no one asked for! This can also count for Week 4 of the @the-slumberparty for Across the Universe!❤️ Not beta read and written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Banner by the amazing @sgt-seabass and banner by the lovely @rookthorne . Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

When word got around that you were seeing Bucky Barnes, some of your friends back home told you to be careful. Not because you couldn't keep up with the rockstar, but because they didn't want him to throw you out when he eventually grew bored of you. Touching as it was, it was also insulting.

"We're having fun." you said in the group chat. "Nothing wrong with that."

"But everyone wants him!" one of them replied. "What makes you different from the rest?"

What makes you special?

"Nice fucking pep talk. Really. Appreciate the vote of confidence!" you sent.

"I didn't mean it like that."

"I'm a big girl. I can handle myself."

That was the last thing you sent in the chat.

You may have given your phone the finger, too.

As if you needed another reminder that girls, and guys, lined up to get just a glimpse of the man you somehow got to call yours. Some were better looking than you and others were nicer, but you refused to let it shatter your confidence. They didn't click with Bucky the way you did. If he woke up one day and decided he didn't want you, it wouldn't be the end of your world.

You took care of yourself long before you left home and wouldn't depend on a guy for anything. That was something you made clear when you started spending more time with Bucky. At least, you told him once you could form a coherent sentence since he fucked every sane thought out of you.

"It's okay to keep wanting me, Luna."

Being addicted to him wasn't something you anticipated nor did you want to admit that he had a hold on you. If you did, he'd have the entire deck stacked in his favor. But the cocky fucker knew he had you in the palm of his hand and you couldn't bring yourself to care.

Not when you were on your knees worshipping him like the god everyone made him out to be.

You waited for Bucky after rehearsal, knowing he could do with a bit of stress relief. Steve gave you a knowing smirk as he walked by. "Hey, baby," he teased.

“Hey, blondie,” you winked back.

"Don't call my girl 'baby', punk," Bucky said as his friend laughed.

Am I your girl?

Shamelessly allowing your eyes to roam his body as he walked closer, you wondered how he even got his jeans on some days with the heat he was packing. The rest of the band nodded to you as they passed by, knowing exactly what they'd witness if they stuck around.

"I don't remember texting you," Bucky said when he stopped, running his ringed fingers through his hair. "You don't have anything better to do than wait for me?"

Asshole. You're lucky I adore you.

Your eyes narrowed as you pushed yourself off the wall. "Plenty of other things I can be doing that don't involve you."

"C'mon, baby. I'm fucking with you," he smiled as he moved to stand in front of you. "I just figured you might be hanging out with Alice and Sunshine."

"Oh, we did each other's nails and had a pillow fight. Almost fell out of my top as I jumped around," you smiled, leaning against the wall once again.

You liked Alice and Sunshine. You'd be a bitch not to and they understood things that people back home wouldn't get. Jefferson was certainly more cheerful now that he had his girl back in his life. And Hal still adored his high school sweetheart just as much as he had the day before.

What's it like for someone to be loved the way they are?

"And I missed it? That's too bad. Didn't get a facial?"

You arched an eyebrow as he moved a finger along the swell of your breast. "How could I when you weren't there to give me one?"

"I can give you one now," he smirked.

You laughed and shook your head as you tugged him closer by his t-shirt. "I don't know if I want one anymore. I could find something else to quench my thirst."

"We both know you love the taste of my cock."

"Almost as much as you love the taste of my pussy."

He placed both hands on the wall and looked into your eyes as you bit your lip. "My favorite treat. You gonna let me get my mouth on you so I can have my fill?"

"Maybe after you fuck my throat. Maybe," you said before he brought a hand to your throat. He held it there, but didn't squeeze. "So you'd rather choke me with your hand instead of your cock?"

"Luna, baby, don't tease me."

"Isn't teasing just another form of foreplay?" you asked.

The flirty, fun banter never got old with him. Even on the days you didn't have sex, you found yourself smiling at his words and antics. It made it difficult to protect your heart. But like your body, it was yours to give the person you wanted and he had the key to the lock before you knew it.

"I want to see those pretty little lips wrapped around my cock," he stated, tightening his grip when you moaned. "Want you to choke on me before I make a mess of you."

The mere suggestion was enough for your thighs to rub together, tour panties dampening more at the thought of him using your throat to get himself off and paint your face. His thick cock filled every hole of yours to the brim time and time again, reminding you that you belonged to him. But you couldn't always give in so easily. Call it pride or a power move.

You'd both get off in the end.

"Sure you don't want one of your other groupies to suck your cock?"

Everybody wants a taste.

His smirk vanished instantly as he leaned in close enough that you could feel his breath against your lips. You didn't shy away from his gaze, captivated by the blue of his eyes. He liked that you didn't try to hide.

Caught in his trap, you couldn't duck and run if you wanted to.

"I haven't fucked anyone else in weeks," his voice dropped as he shoved his knee between your thighs without warning, your core pulsing as he brushed his lips against yours. "Thought I made it clear that you're my girl."

You swallowed hard enough for Bucky to loosen his grip. If Bucky let you in, that meant something because he didn't give himself away lightly. Sex, he could find that anywhere. Someone to stick around through the highs and lows after was another story.

One you wanted to write with him.

"You never actually asked," you said above a whisper.

It was weak to say it out loud and make him put a label on it, but you wanted to hear it.

"I didn't think I had to ask," he said, kissing the spot between your eyes with a small huff. "I thought you were already mine.”

Your stomach swirled with butterflies. "I thought you were mine, too."

"Because I am. I’m all yours," he whispered, playing dirty by rocking his knee a bit more. You were tempted to slide up a bit more and ride his thigh and weep from knowing he was really yours. "C'mon. Be mine. Be my fucking girl, Luna."

You whined when he brought his lips to yours again. You would have said "yes" regardless. "I'm your girl, but don't you dare break my heart. 'Cause I'll hunt you down and make you sorry if you do. I'll curse that glorious dick of yours, too."

Bucky threw his head back and laughed. The sound brought a smile to your face. "I'd expect nothing less. You better not curse my dick or break my heart either."

His casual tone had an underlying vulnerability that you wouldn't dare joke about.

"You're my guy, Wolfy. I won't hurt you."

And I'll be your Luna no matter what.

"Don't let anyone hear you call me that," he grinned, pulling his knee away to leave you wanting more. Tease. "I have a reputation to uphold."

You smiled as the atmosphere shifted back to the sexual charge. He didn't need to dwell on the emotions for the moment and neither did you. Your heart was full and that was more than enough for today.

"Guess you better shut me up then," you suggested as you reached for his belt.

"Oh, no. Still wanna hear you moan and whine when you take me in your mouth," he stated, stepping back so you could unzip his pants and sink to your knees. "When I'm done, you're gonna sit on my face and sing for me. Those pretty sounds of yours might inspire our next song."

"Call it 'Howl at the Moon'," you smiled up at him. "Dedicate it to me," you added with a wink.

You'd find out later that Bucky already had.

Oh, these two. Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

#navybrat writes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #rocker!bucky barnes x reader #white wolf and luna #the vip experience #bucky barnes #rocker!bucky barnes #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes au #navy and roo's sleepover #rocker au #sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan x female reader #sebastian stan x you

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our-marvel-universe · 1 year

Text

Fitness

Pairing: Ari x Reader

Warnings: None

Summary: You are planning to cancel you're gym membership but then you meet Ari

WC: 1.6K

A/N: This is for Navy & Roo's @the-slumberparty this was from a generator or prompt list before the challenge actually started. My prompt was Active.

That's it you were done. All the new year, new you nonsense was over.

You used to spend so much time setting resolutions, unrealistic ones at that, not meeting them and then beating yourself up about it. But you were different now. Thanks to all the work you'd been doing on yourself, mentally and emotionally, you were in a much better place. You were learning to love the body you were in and you wanted to take better care of it. No you didn’t have any weight loss goals. What you wanted was to move your body in ways that felt good. To build up your strength and endurance. You wanted to be stronger and you couldn’t do that if you were feeling self conscious in a gym full of people.

Once you realized it was the gym itself that made you nervous you found alternative ways to work out. You’d started working out at home with short YouTube videos and were going on lots of walks and even a couple short hikes. Who needs those fancy confusing machines? Not you. Which is why it was time to cancel this membership. To be honest you signed up online last year and never even stepped foot in the place. It was an unnecessary expense, but not anymore!

Unfortunately they wouldn’t let you cancel online so you are here to do it in person. Maybe as a treat you’ll go out nice for dinner. After all, you'll have an extra $35 bucks a month in your pocket once you got this sorted.

Going up to the door you're almost knocked over by some gym bro rushing out. Yuck . This is exactly why you are leaving too much testosterone.

As you enter you take in the place there is pop music playing over the speakers. Lots of cardio machines and weight machines and of course free weights. But there's something about this place that's different. You expected to see an endless sea of muscle tees and hear lots of grunting from John Cena looking guys. Or smaller guys who imagined they could look like John Cena if they tried hard enough. But today in this gym there were a lot of women. A curious number in fact since there was a women's only gym on the other side of town. At least you thought there was.

Huh, maybe it closed. Shrugging to yourself you start to make your way to the front desk.

On your way you pass what you assume to be the smoothie bar. Behind which a handsome dark skin man with bright eyes and an easy smile is making drinks for about 5 different women. Huh, maybe you’ll grab something on the way out.

You’re waiting at the front desk for someone to help you. You would go ask smoothie guy but he’s clearly preoccupied…

“Hi, can I help you?”

Turning around every thought you had drifts out of your head as you lock eyes with what could only be a beautiful figment of your imagination. 6’2” maybe 6’3” shaggy brown hair and a thick beard. You’ve never really been into beards before but he might change that.

“Are you alright? Can I help you with something?”

Ok so you didn’t cancel your membership. In fact you had signed up for personal training sessions. You didn’t plan on it but you and Ari got to talking; he was so kind and patient when you told him about your concerns. How you weren’t sure how to use the machines and didn’t know which workouts to do. You couldn’t believe you were being so bold and honest with him, but you’re glad you were.

After you confessed everything to him he offered you 3 complimentary personal training sessions with him. Since you didn’t like the crowds he offered to meet you later in the evening after the post work rush. On your first session with him Ari took you through every machine in the gym and taught you how to use them. He’s been nothing but kind, encouraging and supportive ever since you met.

“Great work!” Ari said as you finished your last rep.

You’ve been working with Ari for about 2 months now, doing 1 private session a week and coming another 3 times on your own. Working out was officially a part of your regular routine, and you were in the best shape of your life! You could feel yourself getting stronger and your confidence was obviously growing.

Private sessions or not, Ari always seemed to find you. You had a sneaking suspicion he was going out of his way to talk to you. In fact this session tonight was an extra. Usually you meet with him on Mondays but he said he had a cancellation and offered you a Friday slot as well.

“You did amazing today!” Ari said before wrapping you up in one of his big bear hugs and spinning you around.

“Me? I couldn’t have done any of this without your help”

“No, no way I just guided you a bit here and there you’re the one who put in all the hard work.”

Ari was always saying things like that, how strong you are, how dedicated, how beautiful. If it was anyone else you’d think they were sucking up so you would keep coming back, but Ari? He was being nothing but sincere.

He’s still holding onto you, your arms are wrapped around each other, and he's looking down at you with his beautiful blue eyes, and he’s so tall you have to tilt back your head so you can meet his intense gaze. The moment is heavy and you start to think that maybe…

There's a loud bang in the gym, probably someone dropping the squat rack on the ground too hard. But the sound breaks the tension. Ari clears his throat and takes a rather large step away from you. “

Seriously great work today, why don’t you head home, I can clean up here.” He says as he starts to wipe down the equipment you were using.

“Ohh um sure, I’ll head out then. I’ll see you next week?”

“Yeah definitely!”

As soon as you turn off and head to the locker room Ari is kicking himself. Christ, there goes yet another opportunity to ask you out and he botched it..again! The guys keep bothering him about it, apparently the entire gym staff knows he’s harboring the world's biggest crush on you. And all the extra pressure from his staff is not helping his nerves.

Ari has never in his life had a hard time talking to women but something about you, he gets so tongue tied and nervous it’s not like him at all. A minute ago when the two of you were standing there wrapped in each other's arms, God it felt so good to hold you like that it took all his strength not to lean down and kiss you. But then he chickened out of course. Ughh he’s got to think of a plan. Maybe it would be easier if he just texted you…? No he’d rather do it in person, like a gentleman, he just didn’t know what he was going to say.

Ari’s at the front desk with Sam, one of the other trainers. The gym is usually slow on Friday nights so the two of them just have to wait for the few stragglers that are here to finish their workouts and then they’ll head home.

He thought you might have left already but you stroll up to the desk looking absolutely lovely in a different outfit than when you came in.

“Hi” You say smiling at him “Hey Sam” You acknowledge the man next to him.

Sam gives a quick “Hey” back before giving Ari a gentle nudge and heading to the other side of the desk so he can look busy with paperwork while still eavesdropping.

“Hi, did you need something before you go?”

“No, actually I wanted to ask you something,” You take a deep breath before verbalizing the question that’s been burning on your tongue for weeks, “Would you like to go out with me sometime?”

For a split second Ari is convinced he heard you wrong. For a moment he’s convinced this is one of his many fantasies about you, but he quickly recovers and gives the only logical answer.

“Yes, yes I would love to go out with you.” His smile is so wide it almost hurts, and you have an equally wide grin across your face. You try to reign it in just a little bit. Right now you have the overwhelming urge to squeal and jump around but you’re pretty sure that might make Ari change his mind.

Calming your inner turmoil you look to him and say “Great well, I don’t know if you’re free this weekend at all but...”

“Actually he’s free right now” Sam interrupts.

“You sure man?”

“Yeah, I’m sure, we close in an hour anyway, you two go out and have a good time” Sam waves the two of you off.”

“OK it looks like I’m free now” Ari says with a chuckle. “If that works for you?”

“Yes, that definitely works!”

“Ok, there's a really good Mexican place right up the street. We could walk there if you want?”

“Mexican sounds perfect.”

“Ok then, after you.” He says as he gestures for you to lead the way. You head towards the door figuring he’ll catch up. Ari steps around to the front of the desk wrapping his knuckles on it before whispering a quick “thank you” to Sam. With his long legs he catches up to you quickly and by the time you make it out the front door the two of you are holding hands as you leisurely stroll to your destination.

Thanks so much for reading!! Don't forget to leave a comment and let me know what you think.

Have an awesome day! <3

#ari levinson fic #ari levinson x reader #navy and roo’s sleepover #kes writes #ari levinson fluff #2 fics in one night

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drabbles-mc · 9 months

Text

You Have Friends?

Richie Jerimovich x F!Reader Richie Jerimovich & Carmy Berzatto & Neil Fak

For @the-slumberparty's Bingo Challenge! Bingo Square: friends with benefits

Warnings: 18+, language, canon-typical chaos

Word Count: 2.1k

A/N: I love them. I love them all so much. I can and would kill a man for Neil Fak.

The Bear Taglist: @garbinge @withmyteeth @justreblogginfics @narcolini (If you want to be added to any of my taglists, please let me know!)

You had your phone out, ready to call or text him to come and meet you outside. You weren’t expecting the door to be unlocked, but it pulled open with no resistance. Your eyebrows lifted, and for a moment you still contemplated just calling him anyway. But then you heard the crashing sounds, the subsequent yelling after the fact, and you knew that even if you called him repeatedly he wasn’t going to pick up the phone. Especially not when he was one of the people doing the yelling.

Taking a deep breath, you stepped inside and let the door fall shut behind you. The metallic clanging of the door hitting the frame was a sound you were certain no one else heard other than you. You took careful steps through the restaurant, or what used to be a restaurant, what was going to be a restaurant again in a couple months, apparently. There was debris everywhere, and the deeper you walked, the more the yelling made sense. Although, knowing Richie, yelling would happen even when it didn’t make sense. Italian aesthetic for the least Italian man you know.

Passing by a tarp, the one spray painted by someone who was clearly angry when they got the can of paint in their hand, you finally landed yourself where everyone was gathered. Carmy and Richie were chest-to-chest, or their approximation of that as Richie towered over him. Fak was on standby, and based off of what Richie had told you, you were certain that Fak was ready to jump in on Carmy’s behalf and not Richie’s.

There were a few other people there too. You recognized Natalie, worry and frustration all over her face as she watched Carmy and Richie yell and duke it out with each other. Your eyes widened as you took in the entire scene playing out in front of you. It clicked for you why Richie never told you to stop by.

Finally, she snapped. “Will you two shut the fuck up, please?! This isn’t solving anything!”

Richie shook his head, stepping back from Carmy only to aggressively gesture at him instead. “Nothing this dickhead is doing is solving anything! That’s the whole fuckin’—”

“I’m sorry,” Carmy interrupted Richie’s tirade, no longer looking at the man who had just been about to throw him through the crumbling sheetrock walls around them, “um who, who are you?”

Your eyes widened further not just at the fact that he was looking at you, talking to you, but at the drastic shift in his voice. He was quiet now, tone almost gentle, but clearly very confused. You cleared your throat, the nerves you’d felt standing in front of the restaurant were back in full-swing now that the yelling had stopped.

“Hi, sorry. I just—” you stopped short and held up the leather jacket in your hand as your only explanation.

Richie’s originally surprised expression had shifted to confusion. But once he saw the jacket in your hand, it changed into something else entirely. Almost soft. As soft as he would allow himself to be in the middle of the warzone.

“Shit,” his shoulders dropped and he stepped away from Carmy. “Thank you. Completely fuckin’,” he didn’t finish the sentence throwing out a vague hand gesture instead.

You chuckled quietly, still feeling awkward in the midst of it all but not quite as much now. Richie was, strangely enough, your tether in the midst of whatever storm you’d stumbled into. “I know.”

You handed it over to him, looking around at everyone who was looking at you. Maybe you should introduce yourself to the room. You knew most of them, or knew of them at least. Richie talked about them enough to make you feel like you knew them—you saw the pictures in his apartment, on his phone. Judging by the various looks of shock and confusion on everyone else’s faces, he was not as talkative about you as he was about all of them. That was about what you expected. You waited to see if Richie was gonna introduce you instead of making you do it, but he looked just about as lost as anyone else.

Clearing his throat, he nodded back the way you’d come in. “I’ll walk you out.”

You nodded, looking around at everyone. “It’s was nice to…you know…” you waved awkwardly. “Bye.”

The variety of goodbye’s that you got from everyone in the room was humorous. Or it was to you, at least. Judging by the look on Richie’s face you had the feeling that he was never going to be hearing the end of everything that just transpired over the last sixty seconds. You knew that whatever that was wasn’t their best behavior, but it was the best they could conjure up given your unexpected arrival and the fact that they had no idea who the fuck you were. It was a little impressive, honestly, especially if any of them were anything like Richie.

“I was gonna call,” you said as you and Richie made your way back through the minefield, trying to take all the same steps you had on the way in but in reverse lest you cause something else to collapse, “but then the door was open so I sorta just let myself in.”

He shook his head. “It’s fine. You’re fine.” He paused as he reached to open the door for you. “How much of that did you catch?”

You laughed. “Um, caught just about everything after you told one of them that you are ‘perfectly fucking capable’ of tearing the wall down safely.”

Richie shook his head. “Fuckin’ Fak.”

You continued, not acknowledging his statement with anything but a smile. “Which, no offense,” you looked over at him, “I heard the crashing when I walked in. Not sure how true that is.”

“Not you too,” he shook his head as you both stood in the doorway. You were standing just out on the sidewalk, Richie just barely inside the hollowed-out restaurant.

“Just keepin’ it real,” you said, holding your hands up in surrender.

Richie was still shaking his head as he looked up at the sky for a moment, like he was visibly trying to talk himself out of saying something shitty. Finally looking back at you, he said, “Thanks for the jacket.” He shook it in his hand to emphasize his point.

“I know you guys are,” you made a general circling motion with your hand in the direction of the restaurant, “but call me when you’re done if you want.”

“Alright, yea.” He ran his hand across his brow-line. “I’ll let you know.”

You nodded. “Sounds good.” You leaned in, stealing a chaste kiss before stepping back away again. “Oh, and Richie?”

He looked at you, eyebrows raised. “Yea?”

“Take it easy on Carmy.” You laughed. “It’s fucked up to bully children.”

Richie laughed, tension dropping from his shoulders a little bit. “He makes it too easy, though. Candy from a fuckin’ baby, I swear.”

You laughed a little harder at that, shaking your head. “That’s exactly my point.” You watched him roll his eyes at you and all you could do was smile. “Talk to you later.”

“Yea, yea, I’ll see you.”

Richie stood there in the doorway and watched as you walked back down the sidewalk. You got a few strides away and realized that you hadn’t heard the clattering of the door shutting. When you turned around and saw him standing there still looking at you, you laughed and shook your head at him. He smiled, but rather than saying anything else, he just gave you the finger before pulling out a pack of cigarettes from the pocket of his track pants.

When he walked back into the construction area, everyone stopped what they were doing to look at him. By that point, everyone only consisted of Fak and Carmy. Natalie must’ve handed out tasks to just about everyone else, things they could do that didn’t involve trying to work through the mess that Richie had just inadvertently created with the disintegrating wall.

“Who was that?” Carmy immediately asked when Richie stepped back in the room.

“Don’t fuckin’ worry about it.”

Fak piped up. “Is she your girlfriend? Do you have a girlfriend?”

“Shut the fuck up, Neil,” Richie snapped with a shake of his head.

“Is she, though?” Fak didn’t let up.

“No—what—what are we, fuckin’ twelve? She’s not my girlfriend.”

“She’s stopping by!” Fak countered. “With your jacket!” He gasped dramatically. “Do you sleep over?”

“I’m gonna put you through that fuckin’ wall, I swear to god.”

Carmy was half-covering his mouth with his hand watching the two of them going back and forth. He tried not to smile. “She’s not your girlfriend, then. So, so what is she?”

Richie threw his hands up, jacket flapping as he did. “Why are we even talkin’ about this right now? Don’t you have a restaurant to open?”

“Can’t open shit when you’re knocking all the walls down,” Carmy shot back with a small smirk pulling at his lips. He paused. “What’s, what’s the deal?”

Richie shook his head, knowing that he wasn’t going to get out of the conversation without giving some kind of answer. For as annoyed as he was, he also had a sliver of awareness in the back of his mind that when the shoe is on the other foot he was just as relentless, if not more.

“I met her on, fuckin’, you know,” he patted at his pants pocket where his phone was. “And she’s cool.”

“But not your girlfriend,” Carmy clarified.

“No. We’re like, friends with benefits or whatever you fuckin’ lizards call it.”

“You have friends?” Carmy asked with a laugh.

“She gives you benefits?” Fak piped up, his voice that same shocked almost-whisper he used so often.

Richie was shaking his head at both of them. He pointed at Carmy, using the hand that was still clutching his jacket. “Fuck you—yes, I have friends.” He turned to Fak and pointed at him next. “And fuck you, yes I get benefits!” He punctuated the sentence by giving him a good shove.

“Think she’s still gonna give you benefits after seeing you act like a fucking maniac in here today?” Carmy asked, eyebrows slightly raised as he tried and failed miserably at not looking amused.

“Pfft,” Richie shrugged like he was so unbothered by it, like he was far cooler than he really is, “bet I’ll get even more benefits now.”

“Gross,” Carmy responded with a laugh.

“So gross,” Fak agreed.

“You fuckin’ asked,” Richie argued, pointing back and forth between the two of them.

Before they could descend further into the madness, Natalie’s voice came ringing in front the office. “Neil! Sweetheart! Come here for a second, please.”

“Coming!” he called back, charming as ever. He looked at Richie, pointing at him accusingly. “You’re gross.”

“And you don’t fuck, Neil Fak,” Richie replied without missing a beat.

Once he walked out of the room, Richie and Carmy both instantly broke down laughing. They were both shaking their heads, at each other, at Fak, at all of it. The entire morning had been a mess, just like most of the other mornings preceding it. It was so easy to get lost in it sometimes that giving each other shit over things like that was a breath of fresh air in the strangest way. Bullying each other just for the sake of it not because it felt like the restaurant was imploding and they were each trying to cope with it the only way that they really knew how.

“Hey, cousin,” Carmy spoke up after things had quieted between them again. It looked at Richie who was looking down at the jacket in his hand.

“Yea?” Richie pulled his eyes back up.

He nodded in the direction of the door. “That all good?”

Richie shrugged, nodded. “It’s all good.”

The ends of Carmy’s mouth lifted into a tiny grin. It was genuine, still just a touch of humor to it because they were still the exact men that they were. “Alright.” He clapped Richie on the back. “C’mon, let’s clean up this fuckin’ wall you knocked down.”

“I didn’t knock—”

“You fuckin’ did!” Carmy said with a laugh.

“You know what? Whatever,” Richie shook his head. Turning on his heel, he went to put his jacket away, somewhere out of the danger zone. “Grab a fuckin’ broom, then.”

Carmy was shaking his head, already making his way to get supplies to start containing the mess. He grabbed a garbage can and a broom, chuckling to himself when he heard Fak and Richie pick up their arguing all over again just a few yards away.

#navy and roos sleepover #navy and roo's sleepover #the bear #the bear fanfiction #the bear hulu #the bear fx #richie jerimovich #richie jerimovich x reader #richie jerimovich x you #x reader #x reader fic #slumber party bingo #slumber party #my writing #fanfiction #drabblesmc

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