#with his (bowling) dress shirt somewhere else

[mathcs]

work days -> the non-existent weekends. p.s. drink coffee responsibly!

[the-kr8tor]

Oh so you want dad!Hobie requests? Take this shot;

dad!Hobie planning a mother's day surprise for R with the twins 🥹 he wants to make something handmade (of course) with them as a gift and a family dinner and R can't move a finger! It's her day so Hobie is the one responsible for everything as she rests and/or gets some quality time with the three loves of her life.

(R may be a bit skeptical because for a week Hobie's been acting weird from all the hiding but she just gives him the benefit of the doubt and in the end it's just him being utterly in love for her)

(Ow why'd you have to shoot me, bleaky?) Thank you for the lovely request!! 😘❤️❤️❤️

Pairing: Hobie Brown x fem! Reader/ Spider-Punk x fem! Reader

Tags: No use of Y/N, no specific physical description of the reader, dad! Hobie, mum! Reader, Billie and Ramona AU, dad AU, twin AU, Fluff.

ʕ⁠·⁠ᴥ⁠·⁠ʔ

You wake up to silence, it's quiet, and you smile, muscles relaxed as you hug your pillow. Eyes opening wide awake, you realize that it's too quiet. You've overslept, judging from the clock that blinks eleven am. This would be heaven for you but the eerie quiet has you flipping the covers away hastily, almost tripping over your own feet as you leave your shared bedroom; not even bothering to put on your slippers. Your mind races to different scenarios, a villain has your daughters, your five year old girls are currently making their own breakfast downstairs and now there's a fire. Or worse, green goblin is making breakfast for them.

“Billie!” You call, feet bounding down the stairs. “Mon—!” Skidding to a halt, you release a sigh of relief at the scene in front of you.

Your little family has their own aprons on. Hobie has your purple frilly one, while Billie and Ramona have their own, pink and yellow with little butterflies that's a bit big on their little frames. Their curls all tied up atop their heads neatly, courtesy of Hobie. All three of them are properly dressed up, like they've been awake for hours. You guess that they have been based on how messy the kitchen is, yet there's no speck of sauce or icing on their chubby cheeks or on their cute outfits.

They freeze on the spot, like you just hit pause on the remote control. Billie has her finger floating above a bowl, probably sneaking a taste while her dad is turned away, kneeled in front of the oven where he's halfway taking out a freshly baked cake. His mouth agape, hazel eyes blinking like a deer in the headlights. You just now notice how your home smells like a bakery and a restaurant. Sporting a pair of baking mitts on, he winces at the ruined surprise. Mona's eyes are wide, a box of sprinkles in her smaller hands. A huge dollop of the sugary treat escapes the confines of the box, colourful sprinkles raining down on the pink icing.

“Hi mummy—” Mona tries to nonchalantly greet you but Billie surrenders, arms raised, grinning from ear to ear.

“Happy mother's day, mummy!” Billie quickly climbs down the stool with the grace of a baby giraffe. Socked feet running towards you, you bend your knees to catch her before she hits your legs. Giggling, she embraces your neck. “Surprise!”

“Oh thank you, dovey!” Pecking her temple, squeezing her tight, you feel Mona tugging down at your shirt. “Hi, baby.” Beaming down, you scoop her up, already an expert at carrying your two babies at once.

Mona holds out a candy flower for you, a shy smile on her lips, eyes soft and adorable at how she looks at you like you deserve the whole world. “Happy mummy's day, mummy.”

“Thank you, my flower.” She hides her face on the crook of your neck, you'd shower them both with kisses but someone else gets your attention.

Hobie saunters over to you, a bouquet of flowers in his arms that he procured from somewhere. All multicolored petals and seemingly out of this world. Still in your apron, he reaches for you all smooth and suave, eyes glued to your flustered face. Pulling you by the waist, he single handedly holds the three of you.

“Mornin’”

“It's definitely a good morning.” The twins watch the interaction, their eyes flicking over to the enticing flowers that seem to be painted with watercolors and with its petals opening and closing slowly. “What's all this?”

“It's mother's day, love. Did you forget?” Hobie teases, mischievous smile that you eagerly want to smooch away. You resist while your babies are still in your arms.

“Actually I did, I had a busy week.” You apologetically say even though none of it was your fault. There was trouble at work, to which you had to stay far longer than you should have for a couple of days. Then there was Mona who had the sniffles, and of course Billie followed with her own fever. On top of all that, you missed Hobie dearly while he had to stay overnight in spider society.

Hobie knows you had a crappy week, he appreciates everything you do, to the smallest things, to the heavier stuff that he wouldn't have solved if not for your help and mere presence alone. He wants to say so much gooey lovey stuff to you, to show how much he still loves you even after all these years of being together. And how that love has never wavered even for a second.

But for now, he'd settle for the breakfast that he and his girls prepared for you. There's lunch too, and dinner. He thinks that the surprise isn't all ruined since he still has a few tricks up his leather sleeves.

“Let's help you remember, yeah?” Hobie turns towards Billie and Mona who are mesmerized by the flowers. “What do you say, mac and cheese, let's give mum the best mother's day?” They stay quiet, eyes glued onto the other wordly flowers. Looking at it closely, it's all mechanical. You then realize that he made the entire bouquet, the thought has your heart melting.

Hobie shakes his head with a smile. “When I told you lot to keep quiet while baking, I didn't say to forever be this quiet. You two are scaring mum and dad.”

You chuckle, shaking them lightly in your arms. They look like they're out of the spell. Grinning up at you, eyes sparkling under the kitchen lights. They hug you simultaneously, you can feel how they relax completely in your arms just like how they used to back when they were still in their cribs. There's a part of you who wishes they don't grow up too fast so you could have more moments like this.

“How'd you get them to stay all quiet?” You ask, there's heat behind your eyes. Tears of happiness almost spilling over when Hobie places the flowers behind him and on the counter to hold you fully in his arms. He subtly helps with carrying the girls with how his arms snake around and under yours .

“Simple, told ‘em it was all for mum.”

You could feel the sob in your throat, Hobie laughs, not at how your lips wobble but it's the only thing he manages to do from how deep he is in the fog of affection around you four.

“Happy mother's day, love.”

[captain039]

PART 2 Tender hearted souls

Hugh Jackman x reader

Warnings: Age gap, slow burn, feelings, hurt/comfort, two fools in love, angst, light swearing, mental health issues, daddy issues, daddy!dom/little girl, plus size reader

Previous part <-

You’re up late, staring at yourself in the mirror unhealthily. You’ve got granny panties and a plain black bra that just supports and nothing else. You like your flesh, squeeze it, curse it, love it then hate it some more. Maybe you were taking your frustration out on yourself. You feel conflicted, you won’t check your phone or social media’s knowing there will be an up roar. You’re glad you decided to create fake accounts for everything after knowing Hugh so long and being seen out with him more than ten times. You lay back on the bed and sigh legs hurting from the heels. A foot massage or full leg massage sounds so good right about now. A knock comes at your door and you’re upright within two seconds getting your dressing gown and tying it around your waist. You open the door seeing Hugh and smile.

“Heading to bed?” You ask as you let him in. He always made sure you were the one to invite him in your room, he never came in unless he asked.

“In a minute, wanted to check on you” he says a crease between his brow as you hug your dressing gown closer.

“I’m fine, promise” you say still pretending, you should’ve put some proper clothes on.

“I meant what I said up there, I know it was a bit overkill saying it to the world, but” his arm lifts up and rubs the back of his neck, something he did when he was nervous or embarrassed.

“You’ve been my rock lately, my anchor, I wouldn’t have made it here, wouldn’t have made it through the movie without you” you feel like your heart breaks. You go over to him and wrap your arms around his neck, resisting the urge to cry as he wraps his arms around your mid and nuzzles his head into your neck. You want to remove yourself from all this so it doesn’t hurt as much, but his arms, his warmth keep you there, always have.

“Well good thing I’m not going anywhere” you joke softly pulling back. You force a smile as he stares at you. Your breath gets caught at the intensity, the way he always looks at his love interests in movies, that longing look. You brush it off when his phone rings and he curses apologising before leaving.

You stare at the empty space a sigh leaving your lips before you close your door again softly and lie down in your robe, grabbing your phone. You check the news, social media, the hot gossip. Different questions a million answers on who you were, how special you were, why were you special, how Hugh knew you, why you weren’t mentioned before. It’s an endless doom scroll and you switch your phone off and almost throw it at the wall. Your phone buzzes though and you see your mums name pop up. She asks how the premier went, even though she probably read or saw the news somewhere. You tell her it went good, trying to avoid what happened. You say goodnight to her and listen to Hugh’s distant voice on the phone before closing your eyes.

You awake with a small groan, having had a horrible sleep of tossing and turning, not comfortable enough, feeling a little nausea. You want to sleep in more but your bladder demands release so you get up. You use the toilet before washing your hands and grabbing a shirt in the cupboard. You throw it on and find some pants to throw on too before heading into the kitchen. You know Hugh’s either on his run or in the home gym doing stupid gym things. They’re not stupid, you just don’t like doing them and watching Hugh just makes you more tired and a little horny than anything. You grab some cereal and milk before pouring each one into a bowl and sitting on the couch, legs crossed and half asleep. You miss your mouth the first time you try to eat and fake sob a little dramatically before getting it right. You check your phone, check the games you play on there before messaging your mum and dad good morning.

“Morning sunshine” Hugh’s voice rings out and you grumble in response to it. He chuckles a little sitting down in one of the single seats. He’s got his gym clothes on, baggy grey sweats and a grey singlet, a towel around his neck, some gross looking green smoothie in his hand. You gag at it as he takes a sip seeing him grin in response.

“It’ll wake you up, and it tastes good” he says and you raise an eyebrow.

“And I’d rather die” you state, your filter gone when you first wake up. You get a message from Blake asking how you are and you text her back saying you’re fine but a little tired. You’re supposed to go over there house for dinner tonight, a little celebration dinner for yesterday.

“Blake’s dinner is at six yeah?” You ask forgetting already.

“Yeah at six” Hugh confirms and you nod.

“Do I need a makeup artist for it?” You tease lightly.

“No, you do your makeup just fine” he says and you roll your eyes lightly his mind still in training mode.

“Yeah, yeah old man” you mumble.

“Who you calling old?” He’s got a cheeky look on his eye as he looks to you.

“Oh I don’t dunno, first name Hugh last name old man” you grin seeing his fake serious actor face.

“Oh really?” He says standing up and you can’t help but grin wider.

“I dunno Bub, I reckon I’ve got more game than you” he’s got his wolverine voice on as he comes closer. Your heart rate rises as he stalks to you while your grin falters.

“Nuh uh old man” you say as he’s suddenly on you tickling your sides. You’re glad you put the bowl down before you insulted him. You squeal and laugh trying to fight him off as you end up sideways on the couch him torturing you with his finger tips at your sides.

“Stop!” You say breathlessly as he continues relentlessly.

“Hugh! Ok! You’re not an old man” you whine and laugh out again.

“Begging for forgiveness already?” He’s grinning keeping his torture up as you squirm every which way.

“Stop! Stop! I swear, I’m sorry” you giggle in a fit as he finally stops. You let out quick breaths and laugh as he leans over you panting lightly also. You let out a small giggle wanting to tease some more but his smile falters a little eyes looking over your face.

“What?” You ask touching your fingers to your face.

“Breakfast?” You ask wondering why he’s staring at you. He’s closer now, you didn’t notice it but he’s inches away.

“Hugh?” You mutter cheeks hotter than before as he blinks.

“Sorry” he says getting up quickly and walks away down the hall to his room leaving you confused. You frown wondering if you did something, he always took your insults and teasing well and threw them back. You rest a hand on your chest catching your breath and trying to ignore how fast your hearts pounding. 

Next part ->

[linniewrites]

We all have our issues | Prologue

idol!jungkook x chubby!student!reader

Summary : She asked me if she was pretty.

Well, it’s clear that the girl’s a fraud.

There's really no way of winning

If in their eyes you'll always be a dumb blonde

Words : 900

Warnings : mommy issues, daddy issues, age gap (Jk is 25 while reader is 20), crying, talk about anxiety, depression, abuse, mentions of panic attacks, school induced stress, fear of dogs (?), insecurities, body shaming.

You grab the cherry and coke flavored candies on the shelf and throw them into the red basket you’re holding with your arm. You then readjust your glasses and head towards the ramen aisle, you take a box of your favorite ramen along with a box of two soft boiled eggs. You ponder for a few moments before deciding to get a spicy salmon gimbap. When checking out the seaweed snacks, you notice a tall man dressed in black sweatpants and a large Nike shirt hesitating between two flavors.

He’s humming a soft tune which sound familiar, but your tiredness doesn’t allow you to remember exactly what it is. You sigh and go pay before setting down your stuff at the counter while you go heat up the ramen. The ringing from the microwave stops you up from almost falling asleep standing up, and you carefully take out your bowl to bring it to the counter. Slowly, you take out your laptop as well as your notebook from your bag to work on your philosophy paper. About ten minutes in your essay, you see from the corner of your eyes a black bag hesitantly being set down.

“Do you mind if I sit here ?” The man from earlier asks. He stares at you and the notes you have before grabbing his bag and taking a few steps back. “If you’re working, I can go somewhere else.” He points at the other seats available, but you shake your head no and gesture for him to sit. You wipe your teary eyes and turn away from him so he couldn’t see the state you were in.

However, that doesn’t look like it worked, because he seems to have noticed, because he hesitantly puts his hand on your shoulder. “I don’t mean to be rude, but, are you okay ?”

You blink at him and look around nervously before answering. “Yeah.”

You wished you could’ve said more, but it felt like you had already said too much. You now fully turn away, so he couldn’t ask you anymore questions, and take a bite of your noodles. The ramen burn your tongue and you blame your upcoming tears on the spice, this time you don’t stop them, and let them fall freely on your lap. You attempt to muffle your cries by shoving more food into your mouth, but to no avail.

Truth is, you were having a pretty good day, one of your classes got cancelled so you got to hang out with some friends, you had lunch together and laughed. And then your mother surprised you. You get along well with her, but sometimes she can be a lot. She had been at your apartment o when you’d came home and it was fun, until she said stuff that bothered you. When you told her you had a great time with friends, she criticized them, and said you should be focused on studies, when you told her you got an amazing grade on an English paper, she asked how much everyone else had.

In the end, you answered that it didn’t matter, because you were proud of your grade, she got mad at you and called you rude, amongst other names. After her whole outburst, she had suddenly decided to be friendly and offered to cook you something so you could relax and watch your favorite show together. For the first time you tried to stand up to her, and you told her you didn’t feel like hanging out today, but she only just laughed at your face, until she realized you were serious. Then, she got even angrier and left, slamming the door like an antsy teenager behind her. You didn’t even bother cleaning up everything she took out and just grabbed your bag before heading to the convenience store. You saw the man next to you steal glances at you every few minutes, and you started to feel bad because he was just being nice and you had ignored him. When you saw him hesitate to ask you if you were okay once more, you turned to face him.

“I’m sorry, sir. I’m just… not really having a great day. But I’m fine, don’t worry.” You wiped your under eyes with the back of your hand.

“Sir ?” He giggled, and you quite frankly thought it was the cutest thing you had ever heard. “I’m sorry you had a bad day. That really sucks. D-Do you want to talk about it ?” He saw your eyes start to wander around so he assumed he was being too intrusive and turned back to his own food. “You don’t have to. I’m sorry.”

“No I’m sorry. You’re being really nice, and I’m just being lame. Even if I wanted to talk about it, I don’t really know what I would tell you, to be honest.”

“How about we just eat ? And if by the end of your meal, you want to talk, I’ll be here.” He offered you, smiling kindly.

“Okay, that’d be nice. Thank you…” You trailed off, waiting for him to introduce himself.

“Jungkook.” He saw the way your face dropped and looked around to see if anything had bothered you or made you sad, but then he heard you whisper to him.

“I don’t mean to make you uncomfortable, but I really like your music.”

“Oh, well thank you…”

“___”

[girlreblogger]

movie nights!

conniexblackfemreader. it’s fall..

orihime (girl in the banner) photo credit goes to @/Xoxo_io on pinterest!

— fluff, chapter 1/5, 3rd pov, reader is an actual (skeptical) introvert, use of y/n (feel free to use your own name or give me suggestions for a name to use if that what you guys want for future chapters), not proof read, i hope this gives off lifetime movie, “i just read a novel and think i’m a writer too” vibes, happy eren, enjoy!

Eren, Connie and Armin were at y/n’s apartment along with Mikasa. Y/n was Mikasa’s classmate in one of their freshmen college classes last year. The teacher told them to turn to their neighbor and she was sitting right next to her. Surprisingly, mikasa took the lead in the conversation, asking her fun questions off topic from the class discussion. And just like that, they were friends.

That next year they both decided to go half on a cozy apartment near campus. Y/n slowly started to be introduced to new faces once they started living together the last 7 months. Eren and Armin who seemed to be mikasa’s closest friends, always popping up to help with groceries or take her out to hang. Though y/n piqued their interest, she would always wave mika off and keep the apartment to herself when she left with them. A true introvert.

Eventually, she warmed up to them after mikasa dragged her out to go bowling with them. That fun night immediately made them all become besties just like that. One day, Armin mistakenly mentioned the fact that they all had a very impulsive friend she had yet to meet and she was actually excited about meeting them.

Y/n sat on her white sofa in between Mikasa and Armin while Connie and Eren sat on the one across from her. She invited them all for a little movie night and thought it'd be a good idea to get to know Connie more. So far she could take into account his style: nose and ear piercings galore, a colorful green and black racer bomber with a tight white shirt underneath too. He had baggy black jeans on and some green dunks.

‘nice.’

He sat on the sofa with an arm over top, his legs stretched out and crossing each other while looking around the place. She watched from the sofa with her cold orange soda in hand and took notice of his incredibly short platinum gray hair. His eyes kept bouncing around the apartment to take it in. Even though he knew Mikasa moved in with a college friend a few months back, he never saw the place.

Soon those eyes bounced to hers and almost immediately shifted somewhere else. He had to think if eye contact was even made. His throat cleared and his long lashes batted before he briefly looked over at Eren, who was wearing a white beanie on top of his flowy hair. His body was oddly twisted to be sure not to lay on his friend’s shoulder. Eren had his feet propped up on top of the arms of the couch like he had no home training, but being best friends of the owners of the apartment; in his mind granted him that right in someway.

“So, Connie, do you wanna pick a movie? You’re new to our movie nights so you can start!” Connie looked over at the sound of her voice and sat up from his position, placing his elbows on his knees and staring at the girl dressed in a black and orange my melody pajama romper. She had her smooth thick thighs and pretty legs on display, making him subconsciously lick his lips and look up at her shiny cleavage exposed from that one undone button.

‘damn-‘

His eyes quickly swept up to her pretty brown eyes and that big grin on her face. “alright.” Connie gave her a friendly smile and watched her nod giddily. She obviously loved movie nights at the way she hopped up from her seat and went to her kitchen with Eren to grab snacks for everyone. Eren looked back in the living room before turning back and raising a childishly suspicious eyebrow. “What do you think?” Eren proposed while walking behind her to grab the candy corn from the pantry for her. “of what?”

She waited for Eren to walk somewhere else and give her space to swivel around to look at him. “of con, how you feeling about him?” She scratched her chin and grabbed a bowl and pack of popcorn off the counter. “he seems cool so far... i mean he just got here ren.” Eren nodded and leaned against the counter behind her, watching her excitedly pour the white cheddar thicky pop into a big bowl. “yeahh, but since he’s one of our friends and you’re such a good judge of character i’m just excited for you to get a good read on him so we all can be a big happy friend group.” The last was supposed to sound sarcastic but she knew he meant it. “but honestly, he’s cool i promise!”

She nodded at his words and shook her head to laugh off his assumptions. Eren was really like a big teddy bear to her so she couldn’t help but try and take his judgement seriously. “mhm. he seems chill. a little overdressed for a movie night though.” Her head turned to look at Connie but she ended up catching him eyeing her up and down. Before his eyes could even make it up to hers, she turned and folded the bag of popcorn up neatly. “We already told you he extra as hell.” Eren laughed at your sneaky remark and grabbed some candy to carry to the living room. “Alright, let’s start the movie.”

end of chapter 1.

please like, and REBLOG! .. please :) i don’t even usually do banners and stuff but i’m really excited abt this fic so please comment, reblog with tags, or give some feedback if you enjoyed cause it helps with motivation. thank you!

[crow-aeris]

More of my little phoenix!tim au, much thanks to @king-chimaera for the ideas and help wrangling the plot line :3

(I really need a name for this thing, and ideas would be much appreciated 😔)

Part 1 can be found here

=====

When Tim wakes up, he’s somewhere dark. Dim… Empty…

An odd feeling tugs at the back of his brain but he doesn’t know why. When he tries to move, he can hear something rusting and clinking. He frowns and tries to see where the sound was coming from, but it seemed to only come when he moves?

Tim huffs in irritation, pulling his wings coser to himself to try and see what was happening. The light from his feathers was faint, but it was good enough. There was something that attached his wrists, and following the rope, Tim’s eyes were drawn to the wall. He was on a bed of some sort, but it was small, soft, and piled on with blankets?

This wasn’t- this wasn’t his bed! and these- these weren’t his clothes either. In fact, this wasn’t his room, his house, his- his anything! Was- did- did he get kidnapped?!

A panicked sound escapes his throat as Tim pulls at the rope, his breathing quickening as blood rushes to his ears.

God, he knew this was going to happen! Mom had even reminded him before she and dad left for Ecuador! He was- why did he have to be so STUPID?

Plus, why would his kidnappers dress him in something so light, put him on a bed, and chain him down? They- they must want to keep a pretty little birdy they found as a pet, or- or- or even- or even worse, they want to- god, what if that wanted to-

Tim gags, feeling bile burn at the back of his throat as he yanked harder on the rope.

He was hyperventilating- no, he needed to stop. He needs to slow. Down!

But his thoughts jump to the worst-possible scenarios, of hands touching and touching and touching-

He’s heard the stories from the working girl near where Robin- oh god, Jason. If Tim’s here, that means he wasn’t able to bring Robin back, and he failed- of how absolutely vile some men were. Tim- Tim doesn’t want to go through that. He does not. Tim was young, be he wasn’t naive.

He needs to leave. Now. Or else he’ll never get to go home… He’s heard the statistics, and he knows that the instant his kidnappers grow bored of him, then they’ll try and kill him but realize that he can’t die, and Tim knows three people off the top of his head who would love to live forever, and that’s- that’s not a life he wants.

Now, he has to think.

He sucks in a deep breath, forcing himself to relax and properly assess the situation.

Okay. He was in a dark room, roughly 8 by 9 feet with a ceiling 7 feet tall. The door was on the wall opposite of the bed, which was centered and pushed flush against the wall. The bed itself was almost bowl-like? Which was extremely weird, but it was almost the size of a queen size bed. The ceiling had one of those boob lights he forgets the name of, meaning wherever his kidnappers were keeping him had electricity.

His clothes were loose, looking middle-eastern of origin. His shirt had two slits in the back that allowed for his wings to stick through. There was some wiggle room, so that may come in handy… Tim lifts his wings and flares them open to try and get more light in the room. To his right was what seemed like a window covered with curtains. The curtains didn’t look particularly thick, wich meant that the darkness was likely because it was nighttime.

In the dark, Tim’s wings would put him at an extreme disadvantage, what with the glowing and whatnot, but maybe…

He gnawed thoughtfully on his lip, narrowing his eyes in concentration as he tried to pull his wings into his shirt. It might be thin, but it would greatly help decrease the light he’s giving off.

Tim takes a deep breath and feels around his wrists. His hands were individually bound by rope, which still allowed him a great range of movement. He pushes a finger against the base of the knot, working his way upward to feel out roughly how the thing was tied. Light would be great right now, but Tim couldn’t be bothered to maneuver his wings back out. Instead, he leans forward, using his teeth to hold the rope in place while his other hand slowly but surely loosens the rope until he’s able to free his left hand. His right hand was significantly harder on account of his left being his nondominant hand, but Tim manages.

He suffles out of the strangely shaped bed, slowly and deliberately making his way toward the door. There was a singular, smooth, round knob that lacked a distinctive key hole. The rest of the door was smooth too, not a single latch or locking mechanism in sight. That means, either the locks were on the outside- trapping him in like a prisoner, or worse, a pet- or whoever was keeping him didn’t bother to place him in a locked room at all, whoch would be stupid.

Turns out, his kidnapper was not stupid. Tim had tried to twist the knob open quietly, but it refused to budge.

Damnit.

Okay, what else can he try? Robin has gotten out of plenty situations before- so surely Tim can too! (he ignores that Robin ad Batman, while he was painfully, painfully, alone.)

Okay, so what else could he try?

Well, he couldn’t hear any sound from the otherside of the door, which probably meant that there were no guards posted. There was a small gap between the door and the wall, but if only he had a card or something on hand, then that would be amazing.

He trails around the perimeter of the room before reaching the windows. Pushing aside the curtains, he carefully examines the glass. Outside was dark, but he can still see shapes moving below. If he was to smash the glass and escape, then he’d be spotted and that would be no good. So, without anything new, Tim returns to the door.

Now, as he moves his hand to the other side of the door, he feels… hinges.

Gears begin to twist in his head as time experimentally knocks on the door… No response.

Okay, now he can set to work. Hinges mean hinge pins, and hinge pins can be removed. This was going to be painful, but Tim won’t die from it.

So, he grits his teeth, and wedges his thumb nail under the first hinge pin.

It hurts. God, it hurt so fucking much. Warm blood trips down his hand as his nail was being torn away from the nailbed, but the constant warm tingling continued to heal all damage done.

He flinches as the first hinge pin pops out eventually, sucking in deep, laboured breaths as sweat beaded his forehead. Regardless, Tim licked his lips anxiously and decides to use his other hand for the remaining hinge.

The last pin was removed after almost thirty seconds of slow, and painful, pushing. Tim wheezes as the last pin popped out, blinking away the tears in his eyes and swallowing back the sob that built in his throat. It hurts, even with the healing, but he needed to press forward.

He needs to find Jason.

Tim gradually wiggles the door bit by bit until he slips it out of the doorframe, his arms protesting and aching at the strain. Despite this, he can’t help the rush of euphoria at the promise of freedom!

The phoenix snares his bottom lip in between his teeth. Finally- FINALLY!

He can taste freedom and hope dance across his tongue, soaring through his chest as hs gently and soundlessly sets the door down on the ground. Tim sucks in a breath, giddy with glee, and as he ducks out of the open doorframe-

He’s bathed in light.

“GAH!” he yelps, jerking back at the sudden change in light, his feet catching on something before sending him down-down-down.

The wind was knocked from his chest, the hope rising in his chest was swiftly quashed as he blinked open tear-filled eyes, Above him loomed a man with searingly green irises and an intrigued and amused expression. Behind him stood rows upon rows of dark-clad people, and Tim felt dread pool in his gut.

“Well done, Timothy,” the man says slowly, the words creeping like insect legs inching along his back, “You are truly something to behold.”

And as he was hoisted to his feet, Tim couldn’t help but feel as if his fate was being sealed.

…How was he going to find Jason now?

[nyoomfruits]

got tagged by @ocontraire to post a snippet from a current wip, so here's a snippet from the landoscar fake married au (yeah no you didn't misread that they do actually pretend to be married in this fic. by actually getting married. its a long story)

tagging @eisenberg @charlescoded @fueledbyremembering @celientjeee :)))

A clattering noise from somewhere in the apartment shakes Lando out of his thoughts and he lifts himself out of his chair, putters towards the kitchen, where Oscar is putting the last of the groceries away.

He’s taken off his suit jacket and tie, and rolled up the sleeves of his dress shirt. He’s run a hand through his hair so it’s not sticking in every which direction anymore, and he’s taking off his dress shoes, moving through the kitchen in a pair of race car patterned socks Lando got him for his birthday this year.

“Hey,” he says, when Lando appears in the doorway. “Did you think about what you wanted for dinner yet? I have chicken, so I can make you that pasta dish you like, or maybe some kind of wrap? I think I have an avocado in here somewhere, I can make some Guac.” Oscar riffles through the bag as he talks, and emerges holding an avocado, sending Lando a triumphant smile.

Lando raises an eyebrow at him. The smile turns into a frown. “Absolutely not,” Oscar says. “Lando. I got all these groceries!” Lando wiggles his eyebrows at him. “No. Come on. Pick a dish.” Oscar brandishes the avocado at him like that’s somehow going to change his mind.

It isn’t. Lando pouts at him. “Please?” He says, because he’s not above playing dirty to get what he wants.

There’s a stalemate, a moment of silence where Oscar just glares at him, avocado still in hand. Then he sighs, very deeply, and puts the avocado in the fruit bowl on the corner of the counter. “Fine. But I get to pick the restaurant. And we’re eating an actual home cooked meal tomorrow.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Lando says, waving vaguely in Oscar’s direction as he takes his phone out of his pocket and opens the UberEats app. “Okay, pick. No fish.”

Oscar rolls his eyes as he starts packing the rest of his groceries away. “Don’t worry, way ahead of you. I was thinking that Italian place? With the breadsticks.”

Lando, who was only a little nervous about Oscar’s restaurant choice, perks up. “I love breadsticks,” he says, scrolling through the app.

“I know,” Oscar says, moving past Lando to put some stuff in the fridge. “How was your mum, by the way?”

Lando groans as he drops down at their little kitchen table, sprawling himself over the surface. “Ever since cousin Cecilia’s wedding she’s gotten it in her head that I need to get married to live like, a happy satisfied life. So she keeps pestering me about it, about how I need to find a nice boy to settle down with.”

Oscar makes a ‘hm’ noise. “But you don’t want to,” he says, head mostly buried in their snacks cupboard as he tries to make everything fit.

“It’s just annoying, that she can’t see I’m happy the way I am right now, you know? I have enough money to do whatever I want, I have the apartment, I have you,” he snorts. “Maybe I should just marry you. That would surely get my mom of my back.”

There’s a clattering noise as a packet of Oreo’s tries to make a break for it and hits Oscar square in the nose, making him stagger back a little with a strangled noise. Lando laughs, and picks his phone back up, scrolling through the options of the restaurant.

“Yeah,” Oscar says, when he’s retrieved the packet of Oreo’s from the floor. He opens his mouth to say something else, maybe, but Lando interrupts him, waving his phone around. “Let me guess,” he says. “You want the Chicken parm?”

“Hm, yeah, sure,” Oscar says, but he seems distracted, deep in thought. He does that sometimes, where he gets so entangled in his own brain that he barely registers what’s going on around him. Usually it’s right before he makes a breakthrough on something for work. Lando decides to leave him to it and orders the chicken parm.

And extra breadsticks.

[tearfallpixie]

Trust and Love - Chapter 3: Progress

Tags: @nerdraging4point0 @thesazzb @synthetic-wasp-570 @circle-with-me @beaker1636 @itsjustemily @witchyweeb34 @agravemisstake @cookiesupplier @cncohshit @faceless-mirror @nonamessblog @yournecessaryevil @black-damask1999

@lyschko666 @vinyardmauro @skulliecadaver-blog @some-daniela @latenightmusiclover @rye14-blog1 @somewhere-diamond @Shilohrosechicken @abiomens @awkwardalex @miss570

“Ricky?” I mumbled, reaching out to the bed next to me. When I didn’t feel him I sat up in a panic. I looked around for him in the small room but when I didn’t see him I started hyperventilating.

“Hey, Shh. Ricky had to deal with something.” Vinny murmured, sitting up next to me. I looked at him wildly and he pulled me into his arms. “He was cussing up a storm that he couldn’t be here when you woke.” I clung to his shirt and buried my head into his chest to muffle my sobs.

“W-what happened?” I sniffled.

“A rooky dropped one of his guitars and snapped its fucking neck when setting up this morning.” Vinny grumbled. “Ricky had to go out and get a replacement guitar before tonight’s show.” I nodded and loosened my grip a little.

“I’m sorry.” I whispered.

“Don’t apologize. You have nothing to be sorry for.” He assured me, brushing a strand of my hair out of my face.

“I shouldn’t freak out just because he isn’t here.” I grumbled.

“Don’t do that. Don’t downplay your trauma. You are allowed to freak out if something makes you uncomfortable.” Vinny scolded me.

“When did you become the levelheaded one?” I giggled.

“Someone had to step up while Ricky isn’t here.” He puffed out his chest. “Come on. Let’s get ready for the day.” He stood up and picked out some clothes for me before going through his own bag that migrated into our little space and getting clothes for himself. We got dressed and when we went to leave the room Ricky was standing on the other side. I cried and threw myself into his arms.

“Hi, baby girl. I’m so sorry I wasn’t here when you woke up.” He mumbled apologetically.

“Did you get your replacement guitar?” I asked. He nodded.

“Please tell me that dumb fuck is fired. We don’t need him breaking another piece of critical equipment.” Vinny snarled.

“He’s gone. I’m pretty sure if words could kill I would have him 12 feet under with what I said to him.” Ricky chuckled.

“Good. He deserves it.” We all walked to the front of the bus where the rest of the crew was chilling.

“Sorry we had to steal Rick from you this morning, Olivia.” Aj called.

“Its ok.” I mumbled. I went to reach for the cereal that was put on the top shelf and whined as I couldn’t reach it. Someone came up behind me and expertly grabbed it for me, not making me freak out at all. I assumed it was Ricky but was shocked to find Vinny behind me.

“Sorry, I saw you struggling.” He whispered.

“You can touch me.” I gasped. He cocked his head in confusion. “I didn’t panic. You can touch me without me freaking out.” His eyes went wide at the realization. I nearly let out a sob as I wrapped my arms around him. He returned the hug while looking at Rick who was as equally as shocked as us.

“That’s a good thing, right?” Justin asked.

“That’s an incredible thing.” Ricky mumbled. “Don’t attempt it yourself because I genuinely think its still just Vin and I but the fact that someone else has that trust-“ He trailed off.

“How do you feel about it?” Ryan asked the guitarist.

“Really fucking happy for her.” Vinny and I let go of each other, still baffled by the new development. He looked down at the box of cereal in his hands and held it out to me.

“Sorry.” He murmured.

“What for? You don’t know how happy that makes me.” I smiled softly. “Its nice to know that I can get comfort from someone besides Rick and not have a panic attack.” I turned back towards the counter and poured myself a bowl of cereal before going to sit next to Rick.

“I’m happy for you.” He whispered in my ear. I beamed up at him and felt someone sit right next to me, close enough to touch. I turned to see Vinny refusing to meet my eyes.

“Might as well test it right? Make sure its not a fluke.” He shrugged.

“Its not.” I promised him. He gave a small smile and turned to the tv where we were watching The Office reruns.

~~~~

“Ricky, I need to fly home for a couple of days.” I told him while staring at my phone.

“Is everything ok?” He asked.

“Apparently my grandma took a spill down her stairs. I would just feel more comfortable if I went home for a bit to check on her. She’s apparently in the hospital right now.”

“Of course. I can help you find a flight.” I nodded and pulled out my computer. We found a flight that headed out that night and booked it. “You should probably tell Vin. I’d hate for him to find out after you left.” I nodded and kissed his cheek.

“I’ll go find him. Thank you, Ricky.” I trotted through the venue until I found Vinny sitting behind his kit adjusting the heights of the symbols. “Vin, I need to talk to you.”

“Yeah, of course. What’s up?” He asked, pulling me to sit in his lap before continuing his adjustments.

“I’m going to go home for a few days.” He froze and looked up at me.

“Why? Is everything ok?” He freaked out. I placed my hands on his chest and nodded.

“Everything is fine. My grandma is in the hospital and I want to go check on her. Nothing serious. I just didn’t want you to freak out if you found me gone.” I assured him.

“Oh, ok. Thank you for telling me.” He wrapped his arms around my waist and held me there. “How long are you going to be gone for?”

“Ricky booked me a flight for tonight and then I will fly into Nash on Friday so just 4 days. It gives me enough time to check on her and make sure she has everything she needs.”

“Just be safe. Ok? Can we go with you to the airport?” I laughed and gestured around.

“Vin, you have a show to perform. I’ll make sure that I say good bye before Bryce takes me though.” He frowned but nodded. “Get back to setting up. I’ll see you in a bit.” I climbed off his lap and headed back to the bus to grab my bag. I searched around for my bandana that I usually kept on me but when I didn’t find it I shrugged and headed back inside.

“Ready?” Bryce asked.

“Let me just say goodbye to Rick and Vin.” I went to the green room and found them sitting together. “Hey, I’m headed out. Vinny was the first to come over and wrap me in a tight hug. When he pulled back I noticed a very familiar bandana wrapped around his wrist. I laughed and placed a kiss to the fabric.

“What? I’ll miss you.” He blushed.

“I’ll let you have it this time.” I grinned. I leaned up and kissed his cheek before turning to Ricky to hug him. “I’ll see you in a few days.”

“Have a safe flight baby girl. I’ll pick you up from the airport.” I nodded and felt myself being pulled into a kiss.

“I’ll miss you two. Don’t cause too much chaos without me.”

“Are you kidding me? Chaos is my middle name.” Rick smiled mischievously. I hugged them both again before heading out to meet Bryce and go to the airport.

[jillianfahey]

Bad Batch - Afterlife? Wrecker

You weren't sure how you got here. You were walking down the street and felt the gunshot, remembered falling to your knees and things going dark. But then you woke up here, surrounded by corridors and people you did not know.

Looking around you heard someone threatening another with death if they continued talking about the dead son they had murdered. So you hurry away from those voices to find yourself in a giant room that looked like a honeycomb. The voices were coming up behind you so you quickly begin to climb down it and hid from people in the shadows of the darkened room.

Quickly darting though the ground floor you found another door that lead to more corridors. Then you realized that you were feeling a breeze and looked at your clothing for the first time. Or your lack of it.

That morning you had dressed in a long sleeved sweater, jeans, and boots due to it being cold out. Now you were wearing a sleeveless garment that fell to your mid thigh, and very little else. Looking around you found that the doors had names on them. Maybe this place had a room for you where you could find a more stable outfit while you figured out what was going on.

Hurrying forward you found that there were less and less female sounds coming from the rooms around you. It was starting to be only male sounds. And that was something you remembered too well from your days as a slave.

You wanted to go back but by now you were well and truly lost. Panicking you started to hear a voice, no multiple voices that sounded almost identical. CLONES!

Instantly you remember Wrecker, the loud friendly clone that you had met when you had worked with the Bad Batch. Looking around, you start to ask if anyone had seen him. Hurrying along the corridor trying to find the big guy you heard his booming voice, "Y/N?

Turning you cry, "Wrecker!" and run directly into his arms.

In a single movement he has you folded into a hug and lifted off the ground with one arm making sure to pin the garment you were wearing down so that you remained covered. He spoke quieter with how much you were shaking, "Lets get you somewhere safe." You happily buried your face into his shoulder as he carried you out of the nightmare.

Soon he stopped at a door and walked though it, keeping you in his arms as he closed and locked it behind him. Wrecker only set you down by the couch in the center of the living room, "Hold on a minute." Then he went into what you assumed was his room, bringing out a t-shirt and sweatpants that were obviously too small for him. Handing them to you he motioned for you to go into his room to change.

You quickly go to do just that and when you come out he is still standing where you left him, as if not sure what to do now. Smiling up at him, "Thanks, your the best."

He blushes while rubbing the back of his neck, "Its really nothing." Then motioning to the couch, "Want to tell me what happened?" So you filled him in on the whole story and noticed that he was nodding along.

After your story had ended he spoke, "Well, you won't get a room just like that," as he snapped his fingers. Then the nerves came back as you looked at him, "Well, at least that's what Tech says." Waving that away, "But not to worry, you can stay with us," extending his arms around the apartment, "the Bad Batch lives here."

Something about him just made you smile, "Thanks Wrecker." Then your stomach made the fact you hadn't eaten in a while known, "Do you have anything to eat."

With the familiar grin, "Oh yeah." Then he took you over to the kitchen and filled two bowls of soup. It was a nice, hearty meal. And the fact that Wrecker was with you gave you an extra warmth, like the hug he gave you when you came.

************************************************************************

*Authors note: I am sorry that this took so long, it was busy season at work and then I had no motivation. But I am going to try to write at least once a week no matter how little I feel like it. For you Wrecker lovers, I hope that I did him alright. I have to look more into the softhearted giant before making his Point of View. This was just something quick I made to try and get back on here. Please be kind.

[shywhumpauthor]

I want to slap Noah

No particular reason

Just feeling mean

Me too, Anon. Me too.

Pen and Paper

Maybe three weeks or so after Branding

Surveillance Masterlist

Cw: descriptions of past amputation and hand whump, starvation, abuse, threats, details of injuries

Noah sat in Declan’s office, tucked in the corner as if no different from a piece of furniture. His chin rested on his knee, legs curled to his chest with his arms wrapped around his shins to keep himself tucked.

He wasn’t restrained, not physically. A loose shirt hung from his shoulders, the drawstrings of his pants pulled tight. Declan had been a bit more generous with meals, recently, going from occasional bowls slid through the gap in their cell door to twice a day. Not that the food had gotten any better, still the same nutritional mush that tasted like dirt and tap water, but at least he was no longer woken up in the night, pains of hunger so strong they made him nauseous. Well, not as often as he used to, anyways.

While the crap kept him alive, enough vitamin supplements emptied into the same pot of whatever porridge mush that he wouldn’t keel over, it did nothing to slow the rapid weight loss that had set in. In only a matter of weeks, months, any shred of muscle he had managed to build up over hours upon hours of training and exercise withered away into skin pulled taut over a skeletal frame. The joints of his elbows, knees, shoulders poking awkwardly through his clothes.

Declan wasn’t paying him any attention. Sitting at his desk only ten or so feet away, he busied himself in folders and files, a laptop open to a dim screen, tip of a pen scratching away at a mountain of papers.

Noah didn’t move for a long time. He stayed curled up until his legs started to cramp, at which point he finally opted to stretch them out a bit, leaning his back against the wall. The shift, though subtle, after such a long time of absolute stillness in his surroundings, drew Declan’s attention.

“Oh, I’m sorry, are you getting bored over there?” He questioned, head tilting to the side just slightly, a mocking tone dragging across each word.

Noah looked up, biting the inside of his cheek as he gave his head a small shake. His throat still sore from the branding, he didn’t trust his voice not to shake or crack.

Despite his jeering tone, he didn’t appear to be giving off any other emotion, only a dead boredom as he drummed his fingers against the edge of the desk, but Noah knew all too well the man’s ability to mask what he was really feeling, a game of charades which he always won.

“I asked you a question, Noah. You know how I feel about responding.” Declan hummed, swiveling around in his chair to turn completely towards him.

“Sor- nn,” Noah raised a hand, turning his head as a dry rasping cough scraped against the inside of his throat. “No.”

“No what,” The man prompted, his nice dress shoe tapping once quickly against the floorboards. That was something else Noah had noticed, he hadn’t really taken account of but he had seen and stored the information somewhere in the haze of his mind—the new carpet. A throw rug, a light accented beige pattern right in the center of the office, covering a good portion of the floor. Close enough that if Noah stretched his legs out, he could just graze the edge of it. Really, it added to the office, whatever new feeling Declan seemed to be going for. Comfortable, almost cozy, like a home work space rather than an industrial quarters in a compound made solely of cement and steel. If he closed his eyes, let the distant warmth of the fireplace wash over him, Noah could almost imagine that he was in some other place, some warm, safe little living room far away from this damned hell.

But he wasn’t.

“No sir,” He mumbled, gaze shifting away before the shame could settle in. It was self preservation, that was all. He wasn’t giving in, or submitting in whatever twisted way Declan wanted him to. He just couldn’t deal with another round of torture just yet, and some inkling of reason told him that with Declan’s recent… trip, he wouldn’t tolerate very much. His recent craving for any ounce of power he could drag certainly left Noah for the worse.

Declan clicked his tonight, his gaze honing down on him until Noah itched to shrink back, fighting away every ounce of instinct that willed him to cower.

There was nothing good behind that man’s state.

Finally, after an agonizingly long moment where Noah didn’t dare to even breathe, Declan spoke.

“Come here.”

Noah tensed, the muscles along his back rippling with a shudder at the two words, the tone of the man’s voice that gave him chills. His expression didn’t read any malice, but Noah knew better than to trust the appearance of security.

“Noah, come here.”

And then Noah made one of the worst possible mistakes he could have in that moment. He hesitated.

“Now.”

And then he was moving, shuffling forwards to stand on shaking legs. His feet sank against the plush carpet, a comfort turned to dreadful anticipation as he made his way over to the man’s desk.

“Go on, sit.” Declan waved him down, reaching to grab Noah’s elbow and push him when he didn’t move fast enough—but really, there wasn’t much aggression behind the action. It wasn’t a rough shove, more like a tug prompting him to sit right by the foot of Declan’s chair.

“You haven’t done any writing lately, have you?” The man asked as he leaned forwards, picking a black ballpoint pen from the intricate little holder he stored all his pens, pulling the cap off easily and setting it aside.

“No, sir..” Noah swallowed, fighting back the nausea paired anxiety beginning to creep through his gut. His gaze fell to his hands and the sickening feeling worsened. Most of the mutilated flesh had scarred over in mangled twists of raised skin where the fingers had used to been, but every couple of days a bit around the remaining knuckles would split open like a blister, oozing blood and stinging pain.

He supposed it could have been worse. After the brutality, Declan must have called in a doctor or something, someone professional to treat the amputations. It was clear that Declan hadn’t been coming from nowhere—he had honestly kept his work quite neat, leaving a bit of flesh around the base of the removed joints while using something to scrape out the cartilage and bone matter beneath so it could be cleanly stitched.

The worst of the damage had been centered around left hand, which Noah was sure had some sort of ill intention that would be revealed to him eventually. Of course, everything Declan did was purposeful, even if at that time the purpose had appeared to be just plain sadistic desire.

On his left, he was missing his middle completely, though that was the wound that had healed the most well so far, the swelling from the infections he had been battling back for weeks finally gone down. His pinky had been cut from the second joint, leaving him with only his ring and index working right—after Declan had broken his thumb. His right was a bit easier off, with only his pinky and the top of his ring cut off, so in relativity… the whole situation sucked. He had just relearned how to use a fork and how to hold a cup, but everything he touched felt uneven and wrong.

Declan shuffled some of the papers on his desk, picking a sheet with only a few lines of writing and turning it over to a blank back. He neatened their rest of the papers before turning his head and passing the sheet and the pen to Noah.

“Draw something,” Declan said, dropping the paper before Noah could even grab it—which he quickly fumbled to pick up again. “Doesn’t matter what, just keep it appropriate. Would you like a folder to write on, or are you fine with the floor?”

Noah picked the pen up from where it had rolled a small distance away, it felt wrong in his hand.

“Wh.. why?”

The slap caught him off guard. It wasn’t one of Declan’s typical slaps, with a force that would have sent him reeling back, but a quick backhand to his face, snapping his head to the side despite the lack of effort. A warning, stinging across his cheek.

“You have no right to question me. If I give you an order, you follow it. I know you know this, Noah,” Declan frowned.

“Sorry,” Noah muttered, resisting the urge to raise a hand to his face. “Sir,” he added hastily, upon Declan’s sharp look. Sir. Fuck him.

There were a few long seconds where the man didn’t move, his glare piercing.

“Even now, I still see your potential, Noah. Anyone else in my position would have given up on your pathetic, traitorous ass months ago and left you to rot in the cells until the next demonstration. But not me.” Declan turned his attention back to his laptop, and Noah thought he was done, but he continued a moment later. “I’ve known there’s something more in you than that misguided loyalty you’ve been clinging to. And I know that one day, you will realize just how wrongly placed your devotion is. You will realize that this, what I am doing, what we are doing, will be far stronger than what your organization ever amounted to. If there’s any hope of you ever sitting behind a desk here again, you’ll need to learn how to use your hands again. So draw something, before I cut off another one and have you use the blood as ink,” he ended firmly with the threat, letting the words settle like ice to the pits of Noah’s stomach.

There was… a lot to process from what Declan had just said. Which he could do later, in the sanctum of privacy, where he could work out what exactly the man meant.

Draw something. He should be able to do that.

————————————————

I kinda gave up towards the end, I’ve spent so long on this it isn’t funny.

But if anyone else has any Noah content they’d maybe like to see…

Tag list: @pickleking8 @blood-enthusiast @t0rture-me @sparrowsage @enigmawritesstuff @whump-me

[hb-writes]

A Dream Come True

Summary: When Ben makes an impromptu trip home, Maggie cancels her college Halloweekend plans to spend the weekend with him and their parents.

Prompt: "Are you high?" "Doo Doo boop boo." "Oh yeah, you're high alright.”

Characters: Ben Stone & Maggie Stone (OC)

Warnings: Mention of Pot Brownies and Alcohol

--

Maggie rubbed at her arms, a brisk wind nipping at her skin through the last-minute Halloween costume she had pulled together—a flannel shirt with some old overalls and one of her dad’s old straw gardening hats. All things she had found digging through the many closets of her parent’s home, none of it belonging to her.

Everything except the straw stuck in her shirt and pants and hair had once belonged to a sibling or a parent but they straw…Maggie had gotten creative and stolen that particular component from the decorative hay bale placed at the end of the Kessler’s driveway. She had thought herself rather clever when the idea came to her and she thought herself a bit of a badass for not getting caught, but it itched like hell the longer she sat there on her parents’ front porch.

It almost made Maggie wish she had picked out something else. Her mother and father had dutifully dug out the old bins of Halloween costumes for her and Ben—opening up boxes upon boxes filled with some truly wretched stuff from the 80’s and 90’s—and Maggie had dismissed each of her parent’s suggestions, putting together her last minute, makeshift scarecrow costume on her own instead. 

Some parents might have been offended by that, but Sybil and Kelly weren’t. They’d raised too many strong-willed kids to be put off by that sort of thing, and they were truly just too overjoyed to have two of them home at the same time, a hot commodity these days, especially at Halloween.

And at the ripe old age of twenty-one, they all knew that this wasn’t how their youngest had planned to spend her weekend...

If things had gone as planned, Maggie would have been at school. She would have been celebrating Halloweekend with her college friends—getting silly and tipsy in a risque costume and dancing with some random stranger dressed as a Marvel character, or something stupid like that. That was what Maggie Stone had intended for her weekend, but she didn’t think drunk and risque would mesh particularly well with handing out candy to trick or treaters on her parent’s porch. Word of that sort of thing spread fast in Thayer, so Maggie was shivering and sober in hand-me-down flannel instead.

Ben didn’t seem even a bit bothered by the cold or the quaintness of their evening, a smile plastered on his face as he passed the night in the chair beside her, telling the most ridiculous and inappropriate jokes to the kids who stopped by for the full-sized candy bars their family was well-known for.

Ben stood up suddenly and started singing to himself, his lanky body swaying to the music only he could hear. It had been a while since their last trick—or—treater, their bowl nearly as empty as the streets, and Ben’s singing only grew louder as he reached the song’s chorus, some tune Maggie couldn’t name, but had heard more than enough times blasted from his speakers when she was little.

A memory nudged at the edge of Maggie’s brain—Ben was driving her home from school in their dad’s old car, the two of them singing along to that exact song at the top of their lungs…

“Are you high?” Maggie asked as a chilled wind popped her back into reality.

She couldn’t smell any pot on him and she half-doubted herself even as she asked the question. Ben was notoriously odd—goofy, as evidenced by his choice to halfway dress up as a robot. It was part of a costume Thad had worn somewhere back around 1990, a homemade thing, little more than a cardboard box covered in aluminum foil with some vague details glued and painted on, all of it well-worn. He looked ridiculous, practically bursting out of it and Maggie couldn’t quite fathom why her parents had kept it all these years… But Ben’s eyes had lit up like a Christmas tree when he spotted it in the basement and he’d happily donned the glorified recycling bin contents over his head and shoulders for a few hours now, not even taking it off to have their pizza dinner. 

Maggie prepared herself for her brother’s answer, some part of her bracing for him to utter some sort of affirmation to the accusation she’d made. She was already feeling a preliminary bit of annoyance at the prospect of him being inebriated when she was terribly sober and a little melancholy, especially now that trick-or-treating was winding down for the night. 

Especially now that her phone was buzzing almost constantly, each text and picture making her miss the alternative universe where she’d stayed at college for the weekend instead of coming home. She had only come home for the weekend because of Ben. Because he was randomly going to be in town…not that she was complaining about that. Having Ben on the East Coast was a gift these days. She saw the others pretty regularly, especially Everett, Thad, and Amy, since they were all geographically pretty close, but Ben and Susannah weren’t so close. Sporadic visits like this were a treat. 

This night was supposed to be a treat, but Maggie was starting to feel she’d been tricked.  

“Ben.” 

Maggie nudged her brother’s side when he didn’t answer, his eyes trained on the animatronic Halloween decorations at the house across the street. He pulled his gaze away to look at her, still humming the song he’d been singing. Ben hadn’t even heard her question, but his eyebrows now rose. 

“Are you high?” she asked again, a frustrated huff accompanying the words. It wasn’t a judgment, even if her tone failed to hide the hint of annoyance growing in her. It wasn’t as though Maggie Stone had never smoked a little pot, but him doing it without her left her feeling left out, a little betrayed… Two feelings she tried to push away and ignore when it came to her siblings, most of whom were quite a bit older than her.

Ben gave his sister a lazy smile before he stood and started moving his robot arms in beat to some imagined music that had Maggie rolling her eyes. 

"Doo doo boop boo,” Ben said, his face scrunched up in some exaggerated expression she could only assume was meant to reflect the face of a robot.

She snorted, shaking her head. "Oh yeah, you're high alright.”

“Just high on life, little sister, but the night is young…” Ben answered as he lowered himself to sit beside her, hugging her to his side. “And so are we, my young padawan.” 

“Mom’s gonna kill you if you were smoking pot in the house again,” she answered, trying to shrug him off. 

“I wasn’t smoking pot,” he answered, dropping his hold on her. “There is half a plate of Millie’s famous little treats in the kitchen though.” 

Millie Thompson…their 74-year-old neighbor. Prize-winning baker and notorious neighborhood pothead. Her pot brownies were famous and famously strong as hell. 

“So you are high, then?” Maggie asked, turning from her brother as the life force swiftly departed from the Halloween display across the street, the porch light suddenly winking out and the inflatable ghost shrinking to the ground almost as if their neighbor had been just waiting for the clock to strike 9:01 pm so they could close up shop. 

“I already told you, the only thing I’m high on right now is life. Kelly and Sybil are already passed out though” he added, nodding back towards the house. “Seems they had their fun.”

“Unbelievable,” Maggie said, remembering now that their mother had been more giggly than normal when she had popped her head out to check on them about an hour before. “It’s almost like we’re the old ones and they’re the rowdy kids.”

Ben shrugged. “The night is young,” he said, echoing his earlier sentiment. Maggie just shook her head. 

“No,” she said. “No way. Last time I had a pot brownie I…” Ben watched his sister with rapt attention, hanging on her every word. “What?” she hissed at the extra attention. 

“Nothing.” Ben shrugged, but a smile was etched across his face, a devilish glint in his eye. “Just surprised to learn my kid sister is a pothead.” 

Maggie pulled the bowl of candies into her lap, digging through for a package of Reese's cups. “I’m not a pothead…and I’m not your kid sister anymore either.”

Ben let out a laugh. “I know you’re not. My kid sister wouldn’t be so miserable about passing out candy with her favorite brother.” 

Maggie thought about making some sort of joke. She thought about insisting that Thad or Everett, or even John or Patrick, was her favorite brother, meaning that she’d just have to stay miserable, but there had been some small note of hurt in Ben’s voice as he said it, just a hint of it stashed behind the teasing. And Maggie didn’t quite have it in her.

“I’m not miserable,” she answered, handing him the package, the second peanut butter cup still stashed inside. “I just keep getting all these updates about what my friends are doing and…”

“And hanging out with your big brother is nice, but it’s not college,” he finished for her. “I get it.”

“We were all supposed to be dressing up as Disney Princesses,” she said, a sheepish smile on her face.

Ben snorted, nudging her side. “Not my kid sister anymore, my ass,” he said.

Maggie nudged him back, but didn’t argue. She couldn’t, not when she’d just confessed her costume plans. And not when she knew that to Ben, she’d always be a little bit of his kid sister no matter what. There was nothing she could really do to change that. 

“I guess there is a perk of you not being my kid sister anymore though…We could go to O’Malley’s now…since you’re twenty-one and all…”

“I do still owe you a birthday drink…or two,” he continued though Maggie didn’t need any extra convincing. Every time more than one of the older Stone siblings was home, they usually ended up passing a bit of time at their local hole in the wall. Maggie had never been…had never shared more than a glass of wine at dinner with any of her siblings, but she had heard plenty of stories. 

“Let’s go, then,” she said, standing up to set the bowl inside the front door before grabbing a set of car keys from the ring. They would drive to the bar, but either walk back or take a taxi home. Probably a taxi, considering how chilly it was. Maggie tossed the keys at her brother and Ben hauled himself off the front steps, trailing after her as she headed for the car. 

“You know, I bet Gus is tending bar tonight,” Ben said as he caught up with his sister. “You remember Gus, don’t you? Gus Abbott?” Ben gently nudged her side as he said it. 

Heat bloomed in Maggie’s cheeks at mention Gus. She hadn’t thought about him in years, not since going away for college, at least, but he had been friends with Ben, Thad, and Everett back when she was little. A favorite of hers. Maggie had been enamored with him back then, following the poor guy around whenever he came over to the house to hang out with her brothers. She had always begged him to play with her, casting him as a prince to reenact scenes from Disney movies.

“Maybe you should’ve dug out your old Cinderella costume instead,” Ben said with a wink. 

Maggie shoved her brother’s arm hard enough that he called out, teetering a bit off balance. “Say another word about that and I’ll punch your cardboard head in.”

“Hey, c’mon.” Ben let out a laugh, holding up his arms in surrender. “Be gentle with the box. It’s a family heirloom. Thad will be devastated.” 

Maggie rolled her eyes as she pulled open the car door and slipped into the passenger seat, waiting as Ben removed his infernal headpiece, setting the box gently in the backseat before getting behind the wheel. 

He put the key in the ignition before turning to look at his sister. “You shouldn’t be embarrassed, you know…having a crush on Gus O’Malley is sort of a Stone family tradition.” 

Maggie raised an eyebrow as Ben continued, ticking off on his fingers as he started naming off siblings. 

“You…Susannah…Amy…” Ben turned the key, bringing the engine to life. “Thad…” he continued, reaching over to turn down the music. “Hell, I think I might’ve had a crush on him, too.” 

“Don’t let mom hear you say that.” Maggie snorted. “It’s like her dream come true. You desperately in love with Gus Abbott…settling down right here in Thayer so she could have her perfect son close…” 

Ben nodded, well aware that it probably wasn’t far off from the truth even if Maggie’s words had been tinged by a bit of jealousy. Sybil Stone loved all of her children, but they all knew there was something special about the boys.

“You know, I never said I was in love with Gus...” Ben offered as they pulled into the parking lot. “But he always was a pretty handsome dude. No denying that," he added, nodding towards the front window of the bar and the unassuming man in flannel stationed behind the bar. 

"And look at that, you two match," Ben added. "A flannel-wearing pair of love birds," he said, pinching at the red and black checkered material on his sister's arm.

"You know this is your shirt, right?" Maggie asked. "I took it from your room."

Maggie couldn’t help but burst into a fit of giggles, Ben’s laughter charging right along after. It took six and a half minutes before the siblings could compose themselves well enough to make their way into the bar and really begin their night.

Poor Gus didn't have the slightest idea of the kind of nonsense he was in for.

The Family Stone Masterlist

[space-mermaid-writing]

Stark Tailoring Inc. [IronStrange]

Summary: After his accident Stephen sold almost everything. But for his new job he needs a suit. So he goes to the place a friend recommended to him: Stark Tailoring.

Relationship: Tony Stark/Stephen Strange

Tags: IronStrange, Tailor AU, fluff, insecure Stephen Strange, no powers, just the regular flirting of Tony Stark, different first meetings

Ko-fi | Read it on AO3 | Masterlist | Word count: 1.1k | Previous

Chapter 5: Fashion Week

Stephen entered the tailor department of Stark Fashion. It was a big studio place where tailors and dressmakers worked to bring to life whatever the designers put on paper.

The employees knew Stephen's face by now and it earned him some friendly nods in greeting. Others were so engrossed in their work, they didn’t even notice him walking by.

Stephen headed for the large double doors in the back, behind which lay Tony's personal workshop. He had got this ominous text message from his boyfriend, that Tony wanted to show him something. So Stephen had taken the elevator downstairs from the penthouse. (They hadn’t moved in together officially yet but might as well with Stephen staying over most nights anyway.)

Tony’s workshop was always a mess. A chaos of different fabrics, yarns and tools. A single roomba tried its best to keep at least the floor clean, but had to surrender after sucking in all the lost buttons, needles, pins and scraps.

There were scraps of fabric everywhere. Tony often brought them upstairs unintentionally, sticking to his pants and shoes and he spread them around the penthouse. Once Stephen found one in his cereal bowl. He wasn't happy about it.

Stephen found Tony sitting in front of a dress form and pinning pleat after pleat of a delicate yellow fabric that was halfway thrown over his shoulder. His tousled hair stuck in all directions and he was wearing a faded band shirt.

Stephen liked his boyfriend all dressed up to the nines in a sharp suit. It always left him hot and bothered.

But seeing him like this, all messy and absorbed in his work, doing what he was so passionate about – this Stephen loved. His eyes softened instantly.

He had barely seen Tony in the last two weeks.

The other day during lunch Tony had watched Stephen while he was talking about his work in the hospital. Suddenly Tony had squinted his eyes, scrutinizing Stephen.

Irritated, the doctor had paused. “Everything alright?”

“Yeah,” Tony had said. “I just had an idea.” He had gestured to him to continue talking, but it was clear that Tony had stopped listening. His mind had drifted somewhere else.

Afterwards Tony had kissed Stephen, before he announced that he would go buy some fabric.

It was the last Stephen had seen of him – besides occasionally late night when Tony stumbled into bed or the few times Stephen brought food into the workshop.

So the doctor was quite curious when he entered it and walked over to him now.

The tailor pinned the pleats precisely and artfully. Stephen had the impression that he had not even noticed him, but then Tony raised his voice (without looking at him). “I’m with you in a minute.”

Stephen, who knew about Tony’s minute, refrained from comment. Instead he leaned against a table and checked his phone.

Seven minutes later Tony put the fabric down and turned his chair to his boyfriend, grinning broadly. “I made something!”

Stephen tucked his phone away and shifted his attention to Tony. “Your fall-winter collection.” Of course he knew what Tony was working on.

“Si! And it’s the best one I made so far.” He grabbed Stephen by his wrist and pulled him with him to the other side of the table where there were more dressmaker forms. Most of them were wearing garments; either full outfits or single pieces.

But not the regular suits Stephen knew from Tony’s small tailor shop downtown. Instead there were various color themes: green, red-purple-ish and blue were the most present.

For the style, it was very… Stephen wasn’t sure what it was. I looked like modern suits met Asian monk. Or maybe ninja monks. There was a lot of draping and layering going on. And somehow it worked.

It wasn’t the weirdest thing Stephen had seen on runways (he did his research when he started dating Tony. Fortunately, every big fashion show was recorded and available on youtube these days)

He definitely could see fashion enthusiasts wearing parts of the collection in the streets of New York.

“I like it,” Stephen therefore said and meant it. He didn’t know much about fashion but he could tell that Tony was passionate about it. And that was infectious. “It’s interesting, but in a good way.”

Tony beamed at him. “It’s for you,” the tailor revealed. At the other man’s questioning glance, he added, “You were my muse for this. I was inspired by you.”

Stephen looked at him in awe. Never before had someone done something even remotely like this.

Before he could say anything, Tony pulled him to the blue outfit. It was some kind of wrap suit jacket with a belt, tailored pants and a red cape.

“Here,” Tony pointed at it. “I want you to walk this on my runway show.”

“Pardon?” Stephen blinked at him. Surely he had misheard.

“It’s the main piece. I made it in your size.” Tony ran his fingers over the different textures of the robe. It had taken hours to assemble it just right and he was very proud of how it turned out. That was why Stephen's next words hit him hard.

“No.”

“No?”

“I’m not wearing that.”

Tony pursed his lips and frowned. “You just said you like it.”

“Yes, but…” not enough to wear it. No, that wasn’t true. Stephen would wear it. Maybe just not in public. Not at an event where all eyes were on him.

He didn’t know how to communicate it, so he got defensive. “I’m not even sure if it’s a suit or some kind of robe.”

“Yes, exactly!” Tony exclaimed. “It’s confusing. It’s exotic. It’s strange.”

“Fuck you,” Stephen deadpunned. It was more like a reflex. He really did not appreciate puns of his name in this situation.

Tony took a sharp breath in. “You’re my muse. I designed a million dollar collection with you in my mind. Because you inspired me to create this. And yet you say, fuck you?” The tailor knew he was often overly dramatic but every single of his words were true.

They were fighting. Why were they suddenly fighting?

Stephen exhaled. Tony was right. “I’m sorry I said that.” His fingers wrapped around Tony's wrist and he pulled him close. “I didn’t mean it like that.” He pressed a kiss on Tony’s forehead. “In fact I’m very honored...” He pressed a kiss onto Tony’s nose. “… and flattered.” He took the tailor’s hand in his own and pressed a kiss on the back of his hand. Those hands that created.

Tony looked pleased and stood straighter under the praise. “I am a designer genius.”

“You are”, Stephen agreed. “But I still won’t set foot on the runway. Even for you and your genius design of half suit, half bathrobe.”

~~

In the end Stephen did step onto the runway and wore the blue robes. Minus the cape. Instead Stephen took the cape home and used it as a blanket. He came to love that red piece of softest fabric ever. They named it Cloakie and Stephen was very protective.

(Also the fall-winter fashion show was a huge success. Tony really was a fashion genius.)

_________________________

Stephen: “Dammit, I’m a doctor, not a runway model.” Tony: “Don’t you dare quote Star Trek at me!”

tbh this whole mini series was just an excuse for me to gush over my real life job. There are two things in life I love: writing and fabric. Three, if you count cats. You should always count cats.

[sunluzhen]

HELPED !

+ Anonymous asked: HELPED

It was storming on the night they were born. They remember the howl of the wind. The phantom touch of gentle hands. The absence of— something, everything. Sleeping. Then waking up somewhere else. They remember crawling, then walking, for a long time. Cold. Wet. Feeling like a piece of clay that was soaked in too much water.

Bright lights. Loud noises. Even late at night, the city was loud. Surrounded by so many people that were lost in their own little worlds. Few spared them so much as a glance. Eventually, their aimless wandering had brought them to the doorstep of Pigsy's Noodles. The smell of food was alluring, and it was coming from someplace inside.

A little face pressed against the glass of the front window, wide eyes staring curiously inside. Warm lights. Someone moving around inside. The sound of dishes clinking together as they were cleaned by hand. They stayed there for a long time, curious and wanting, before they finally pull away.

The restaurant's curtain-like door was still open.

It was possible to escape the rain and the cold; they wanted to get closer to the source of warmth emanating from inside. So, with shaky steps, they drag themselves past the curtain and enter the restaurant; tracking lumps of clay and mud inside. Pigsy turns around from finishing the night's dishes just in time.

He startled with a shout -- at the mess they've dragged in, at their state, at the fact that there was a naked small and seemingly human child ( with no guardian in sight! how awful! ) now standing in front of him. He asks them something.

What happened to you? What's your name? Where are your parents?

They don't answer him with anything more than an innocent tilt of their head, a blank stare, and a curious chirp. They did not know how to speak, and neither could they understand any language. They had just hatched, after all. The pig demon muttered something to himself, looking while while still keeping an anxious eye on the child fate seemed to have unceremoniously dropped on his doorstep.

Okay... uh, let's get you cleaned up, kid.

He slowly moves around the counter, and approached them with gentle words and carefully held open arms. Something in the back of their mind clicks. Young Xiaotian chirps again, then practically jumps into his arms and latches onto the front of his shirt with an iron-grip. The enthusiastic gesture caught him off guard, but he rolls with it -- takes the child now clinging to him straight to the washroom.

They quickly learned that they didn't mind the water this time. It was warm. Then they were promptly bundled up in one of Pigsy's spare uniform shirts, which draped over them like an over-sized dress, and a pair of children socks, also too big but not as comically oversized, he happened to have at hand from the makeshift Lost & Found pile that's been gathering under his register.

Then, after repositioning themselves to ride on his shoulders so they could watch him move around the kitchen for a couple of minutes, they're being sat down carefully in a toddler seat brought up to the counter. A warm bowl of noodles placed in front of them. It's enticing enough that they don't screech in protest this time when Pigsy carefully pried them off him. Pigsy handed them a plastic fork.

They didn't know how to use a fork, so they ended up using their hands.

Resigning himself to a long and interesting night, Pigsy sat down next to them as they ate. It was their first meal since coming into their world, but Pigsy worried that they were eating as if it was their last.

I'll call welfare services in the morning. It should be okay for the kid to stay the night...

Then one night ended up becoming roughly fifteen years.

[ianfm]

Closed starter for Bo Turner ( @urdamage​ ) Location: The Aviary around sunset 

Time seemed to move incredibly fast the older Ian got. It felt like just yesterday he’d proposed to Bo and opened up that new chapter in their relationship, Eight months later and Ian found himself comfortably living the life of a fiance. While he had a new title for his partner little else had changed for the couple. They were no closer to getting married than before their engagement but murmurs of ideas were starting to form in their head whenever the moment would arrive that they’d finally tie the knot. Over the course of these last eight months Ian realized all too late that he’d almost completely stopped dating Bo. Sure, they got take out and brought it home frequently enough but due to their mutual and individual traumas the concept of going out and enjoying each other’s time somewhere in public had come to a halt. They weren’t going out to movies like they used to, or bowling, or any of the activities they once got up to before the mall was built. Even though Ian was a homebody at his core he didn’t want to be dateless and he knew it wasn’t good for his partner to be as cooped up as they were. So Ian worked a few extra shifts at Pizza Time to save up some money to get a reservation at The Aviary to make up for the lack of dates they’d been on. 

They arrived just in time for their reservation. Ian was actually in a button down (picked out by Bo of course) and looked far more put together than he had in a long time. Dressing up wasn’t his favorite thing in the world but even he knew he couldn’t show up to The Aviary in a tee shirt and jeans. As they approached the door Ian took a few steps ahead of Bo to ensure he’d beat him to the door as he opened it for his partner. “After you, my prince,” Ian proclaimed with a grin as he held the door open for Bo to enter the restaurant. 

[aqqleshiqqing-archive]

Selfshiptember, Day 16; Plushies

ship; tomjesse

prompt; plushies, but it's featuring a familiar toy <3

↬ tom gets sick... now he's under her care, would she want to risk speaking her love language of physical touch while he's sick?

"It's my fault, please don't spend too much time trying to nurse me—"

Tom tries to excuse himself, but was cut short by a harsh sneeze. He's gotten a cold from trying to run back home in the cold, thunderstorms. What was he doing? Who knows, but it seems like he really regretted doing that.

"Yeah ... that's not a good tell..." Jesse plopped her fisted hands on her waist, her body and head tilting to a side as she ponders about her dear's current predicament. "I'm not going to ask what did you do outside, but,"

She looks at the darkened window, that had a few shots of fast raindrops flying past the view. It's a big one today.

"...before it gets worse, you'll be staying in bed and I'll make something hot for you in the meantime, okay?" He couldn't help but feel a little, uneasy. She sounded a little strict ... as if the strictness stemmed from the uneasiness she had when he was being a little bit dismissive of the weather report. He'd argue that weather patterns are inconsistent, but now's not the time — he can tell she's both disappointed and worried.

"Okay..." he awkwardly fumbles with his fingers, even pinching a bit of skin to express his internal discomfort.

That's why he tries to beg that he'll manage himself, but nothing gets past her when it's Tom who's gotten himself in really stupid scenarios before, and he's not even the clumsy type! He doesn't like seeing her like this, it almost scares him sometimes. But that's her usual self, not much people would know that though. Jesse is an incredibly patient person, it's rare to see her act differently. Sad to say that he's flipped a switch today.

So here he is, stuck to the twin sized bed they share, except that it's all his for the night, and his guilt continues to rise higher than he expected. He's covered in blankets, a different set of clothing, and his little To.mee Bear friend laid next to him for companionship as he forcibly lazes around to recover. The sound of the thunderstorms echoed his mind as nothing really was in his thoughts, except for Jesse — he's worried what she'll say next.

The door knob twists, in comes Jesse with a bowl of warm soup, and a mug with what's pressumably hot tea. His eyes turns to her, she's dressed in a more comfy set of clothing, a t-shirt that's tucked in with her cute short shorts. It's more of her sleeping wear since it's evening time. Her hair was a bit messy, but it's all laid on her shoulders beautifully, just a few brown strings popping out.

"Hi, Tom."

"Agh, you made soup as well?" he winced. "You didn't have to go that far."

"No, the worst part is that we both get sick. So I'm doing my best to help you recover, okay?" She places the soup and tea next to him, and proceeded to stir the tea with the spoon that sat with the mug.

Her voice was soft, but man, did her words stab his heart in fear, bit by bit.

He sat there quiet, so did she. The clink and clank of the teaspoon against the mug filled the silence momentarily.

"Jesse,"

"Mmhmm?"

"Are you mad at me?"

The clinking stopped, she turned to him who had a face of worry, he's been agonizing over her emotions since he got here, and it's better he'd try to apologize or else he'd suck it up and seem ignorant about it.

Her eyebrows furrowed a bit, as she took time to respond to his questions.

"No, I'm not... I was just, nervous."

"For what?"

She clears her throat.

"Actually... I just don't like it when you're not in the living room with me," she replied, awkwardly darting her gaze somewhere else. "It would feel like I'm back to my old house, where it was only me, myself, and I."

Oh, how he suddenly felt so relieved. Still, it's his fault. Because unless he recovers quickly, she's going to be by herself again while he would be forced to sleep a whole day's worth for who knows how long.

"Aww, love." he spoke, sympathetically. "I'll make it up to you for the hours I spent here on bed. Maybe we watch a movie, your call." he tries to lighten the mood.

"But then again... sorry. I probably should've listened to that weatherman guy earlier today."

Jesse smiled, appreciating his simple yet genuine response. She tries leans closer to him for a little kiss on his cheek.

Suddenly, she was halted by his hand on her shoulder, stopping her in her tracks.

"Wait, don't. You might catch the cold — sorry."

Right, he's still sick. This is just getting even more disappointing for her, she can't be as physically affectionate as she usually is with him.

Retracting back to her original position, she sighs and pouts a little. Trying to not mind this, she goes back to preparing his little snack and bobs the teabag on the mug a little bit, to let the flavor spread out.

It's happening again, she already accepted his apology but he still feels terrible about this. He definitely wanted that kiss but it's for the better that she didn't.

Scanning for some ideas, he looks at his little fuzzy, familiar friend. Boom, idea!

"Okay. Tom, your tea is rea-" her head turned to his direction, but was met with a soft texture on her face. It's Tom.ee Bear, his soft nose booped her nose. She chuckles at this little bit. "What, am I feeding him today?"

"A kiss from me to you, through this little guy." He's adorable when he smiles. He thought this was clever for his part. Tom continues to make the plushie boop her face, and she starts to giggle at his goofy self.

"Stop, that's so cute..." she smiles, her cheeks are rosy in joy.

He hands her his little toy best friend, and she hands him his hot tea in exchange.

"Say, pretend To.mee Bear is me today. Do whatever you want with him." he teases, not really sure if he's taking this idea seriously or not, but its worth the shot. Sipping on the warm tea, he feels his throat cleanse from his clogged passageway. Refreshing.

Jesse notes his suggestion, and stares at the cute bear that somewhat resembles her boyfriend. The hair definitely gives it away, it's so him.

Holding the toy close to herself, she plants several kisses on it, and rubs her cheeks against the soft fur. She's projecting really hard, huh... cute.

"Get better, because I'll definitely be like this to you again," she giggles to herself, the familiar scent that the plush exudes makes her really feel that it's just Tom, but soft and miniature. Tom looked at her wonderfully drowning his dear toy in cuteness aggression... part of him suddenly wishes that was actually him.

"Wow, that—" he stuttered, he feels his cheeks warm by seconds. "I can totally feel your lips on my cheeks right now." It came off as a bit sarcastic, but it was because he was a little jealous of that little furry friend.

He continues to watch her cuddle the hell out of that toy, looks like she's not that mad in the first place either. She still loves him no matter what, everything feels so much more lighthearted now.

But, he's struggling to finish his tea. Oh how he wants to be in that position right now. How dumb he was to walk out in the rain like that! He's finally had it.

Placing the mug at the side of the desk, and ensuring it doesn't tumble over, he calls out to her.

"Uhh, Jesse?"

She was too busy being adorable with the toy, she looked at him in response with a giggly voice. "Heheh, yeah? I'm really liking this so far."

"Well. Uh, yeah that but—"

He's not gonna word his way out of this one. He throws his arms on her shoulders and hugs her despite his sick self.

"Forget that Tom.ee Bear idea. Can I have a kiss, please?"

~~~~~~

*A text conversation below, from Edd to Tom

E: hey, did you make it back home? it got suuuuper cold and suddenly, hard rain!

T: yea, i got sick tho. messed up big time

E: oh no. im guessing jesse is taking care of you?

E: shes a great caretaker, really! it's good you have her around

T: uhh about that.

E: what

T: we're both sick.

E: tom......

T: im literally making this day worse for everyone i know sorry sorry sorry ughhh

T: the kiss was worth it though.

↬ GUYSSSS MY HEART WAS DOIN FLIPS HALF WAY THROUGH AAGHHGHAHH!! fun fact this was inspired by an old comic dub I LOVED THAT'S LIKE... 6 years old now. (it's my.stic mess.enger SHH SHHHHHS HHHH)

I'll probably try to write more around the end because I refuse to do this in November 😭😭 this isn't proofeaded properly so excuse any errors eheh

[metagalacticx]

drive-in movie date, dinner at a fast-food place at one a.m.

fictober day ?+1✨

this isn’t relevant to the story but: i miss them ❣️

————

They’re barely two miles outside of Beacon Hills when Mason starts dozing off, head tipped against the glass and his scarf bunched up around his neck. 

He should be in bed.

If Corey were stronger, he thinks Mason would be. Curled up by his side and wrapped in his favourite blankets with a bowl of soup on the night table. But Corey’s developed incredible resistance to nearly every strain of Mason Hewitt’s persuasive techniques.

He knows Mason’s Mom would disapprove of him being out of the house with a cold, but Mason laid the facts bare and Corey couldn’t argue, especially with the sore throated raspiness he used to declare that he wasn’t really sick.

Fact number 1: this was the last weekend they’d be spending together for at least two months and they’d been planning this one for a while.

Fact number 2: Would you really want to leave without having a fancy dinner with me? I got all dressed up.

Fact number 3: you love me. 

There was something about the way he said ‘You love me’, like he was asking. Like he wasn’t sure the answer would still be yes.

Corey had scooped him in a hug and sighed. Because yes, he absolutely did. Does. Forever will.

So here they are on their way to a drive-in movie, Mason asleep in the passenger seat and rain clouds hovering above, fanning the flames of uncertainty and guilt roiling in Corey’s gut.

Mason shifts a few times, and Corey looks over with mounting concern, but his breathing remains stable.

Corey wants to wrap him in the blankets they brought, but he doesn’t want to pull over for that, so he toes the accelerator a little more firmly and tries to outrun the clouds.

They don’t make it. In that they do, but the clouds get there before them. Rain pelts the roof of the car, unceasing in its onslaught. The ground is punctured repeatedly and  left with widening puddles of silt. And just like that, the planned date is all but ruined. He’s a little anxious to wake Mason, so at first he just sits there with the car in park while his boyfriend snores lightly in the seat next to him. He bites his lip and stares straight ahead, hoping that the rain will ease enough for the event to be uncancelled. 

But they have no such luck.

When Mason finally stirs Corey smiles, loose and tender.

"What happened?"

"Sorry," he says, about everything. He figures no explanation he could give would matter anyway. He’s just sorry about it all.

Mason’s eyes go round and he straightens, looking around like he could find a spot to peek through the steady sheet of rain. Like he could see in the dark. "Oh... We can still do dinner, right?"

"We kinda missed the time…"

"How long was I asleep?"

Corey isn’t exactly sure but he thinks it’s pointless to fill in the rest of the story, because it doesn’t matter now. But he can tell Mason wants to, so he tells him about the rain and what time it started, how heavy it got. He tells him about the reservation and how long ago it was booked for. He checks the time on the dashboard and tries not to wince as he watches Mason’s face fall when he tells him how long he was asleep in the passenger seat.

"Sorry," he mumbles, and Corey doesn’t like it.

Corey wants to wrap him up, keep him warm. So he leans over the console and takes him in his arms. Mason sags against him and they both take deep breaths. On the exhale Mason coughs.

"You okay?"

He brings his hands to Mason’s back and rubs.

Mason hums and squeezes Corey closer. His forehead is warm against his neck, fingertips burning through his shirt.

"We should get you home."

Mason coughs again. "Can we get food first?"

Corey smiles, "Yeah. We passed a Wendy’s a little ways back. We could probably make it. But I think we should stop somewhere else and get you some soup."

"No soup," Mason groans. Corey chuckles because the protest devolves into a coughing fit.

"Your Mom wouldn’t like it if I didn’t at least buy you some."

"Fine," he drags out. "No chicken, though. That’s for sick people. I’m just having an off day."