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sobsicles · 3 years

Text

claire's not expecting them to be at the door. she blinks at the sight of four men all huddled on the stoop with flowers and what appears to be bags of food flowing from their arms. jack is peeking above a bouquet, beaming at her.

"who's at the door?!" jody calls from the kitchen, her voice muffled by the sound of grease popping and the clanking of pans and spatulas meeting over and over.

"god," claire calls back, because she likes to think she's funny.

there's a beat of silence, and then jody's sticking her head out the kitchen. the moment she sees them, she breaks out into a grin and saunters over, shoving the spatula in claire's hand as she chatters away.

"what's going on out there?" donna asks as claire escapes back to the kitchen to poke at food jody is apparently willing to burn just because the winchesters decided to show their faces today of all days.

"judgement day," claire says dryly.

donna shares a look with patience. "haven't we dealt with that already a few times?"

"only by association," claire admits, "but i wouldn't put it past them to bring it along with 'em now. the boys are here."

"oh, isn't that nice?" donna chirps, already popping up from her chair. "i didn't know they were stopping by today."

"wonder how sam's doing," patience agrees, wandering out the kitchen right along with donna. claire can hear everyone cracking up and talking in the living room.

trust the winchesters to shake things up just by showing up. can't have one goddamn day, can they? well, that's not true. in their case, as far as claire is concerned, they're shitty for showing up and shitty for not. someone has to knock 'em all down a peg or two, so she might as well be the one.

"what did that chicken ever do to you?" kaia asks teasingly as she sidles into the kitchen and stops by the stove, hip-checking claire out of the way to take over.

"the boys are here," claire informs her.

kaia raises her eyebrows. "like, the boys as in the winchesters, or is this a milkshake pun?"

"i can only be so gay, sweetheart," claire says, shooting her a flat look.

"raise the bar a little. could be gayer. you can always be gayer," kaia teases, reaching out to sneak her hand around claire's hip, her eyes bright with amusement.

"you know what? you're right," claire agrees and immediately tries to cop a feel while kaia laughs and dances out of range.

jack appears in the doorway. "hello," he says, whispering for some reason. "claire, i need your help."

"no," claire says, not even glancing at him. she continues to try and put her hand up kaia's shirt, just to see her laugh.

"can i borrow twenty dollars?" jack asks.

"no. aren't you god?"

"yes, but i don't get paid to be."

"well, sucks for you. borrow money from cas," claire mutters, settling in behind kaia as she focuses on the food on the stove, swatting lazily at claire's roaming hands.

"he'll just borrow money from dean."

"borrow from sam."

"he'll just borrow money from dean."

"borrow from—wait, why does it matter if it's from dean? just borrow from him."

jack huffs. "i can't. i need the money for dean. i have a card, and i read online it's customary to give money with a card. also, will you sign it?"

"you got dean a card?" claire asks, craning her head around to stare at jack skeptically.

"yes."

"don't tell me it's for what i think it is."

"mother's day," jack confirms unironically.

claire wheezes out a laugh. "oh my god."

"there's a pen in the catty on the fridge," kaia says, clearly amused.

"yeah. yeah, this is—yeah." claire chokes on more laughter and stumbles towards the group of pens in the magnet container on the fridge. she waggles her fingers at jack, clearing her throat, lips twitching. "hand it over, beanstalk. you're a fucking genius."

"oh! thank you," jack declares cheerfully, passing over the card. "so, can i borrow twenty dollars?"

"hell no," claire says. she braces the card against the fridge and swallows down a laugh. sam has already signed it. this just gets better and better. happy mother's day, old man, aka the secondary source of my mommy and daddy issues. you're going for gold with this double-whammy, she writes.

"but i need it," jack insists, staring at her with wide eyes.

claire shrugs. "tough break, kid. what, cas doesn't give you an allowance? is it just me, or are dads getting stricter these days?"

"i didn't think about it in advance," jack admits sadly. "i want to do it right for the holiday. it's mother's day, claire."

"i'm well aware. sorry to break it to you, kid, but last I checked, your mom's as dead as mine," claire tells him, her voice flat. he frowns and she forces herself not to feel bad. everything that sucks for him sucked for her first, so her sympathy levels are a little drained. "father's day will roll around eventually, and you've got a long line of those, so wait your turn."

"i've already done something for my mother today," jack says slowly, his eyebrows furrowed. "i visited her in heaven."

claire snorts derisively and passes the card back over. "must be nice."

"it was," jack agrees, completely missing the point. "i really can't borrow twenty dollars? i'll pay you back."

"nah," claire says. "who cares anyway? wait, why is dean the mom?"

"well, castiel is my father."

"ah, so it's about them having the hots for each other, then? really, kid, you coulda just made dean your step-dad."

jack blinks. "they have the...hots for each other? you mean sex. they have sex?"

"you know what?" claire points at him with her free hand. "i'm not gonna burst your bubble on that one. you've got enough issues on your own without wondering if mommy and daddy still have a spark, so I'm gonna leave that alone. i've got five dollars. take it or leave it."

"deal," jack says immediately.

money is exchanged, and jack looks like he's on cloud nine. claire's just stoked to see the expression on dean's face when he gets the card. it's a homemade card and everything, nothing like the two claire, kaia, patience, and alex got for jody and donna.

claire helps kaia finish up the chicken, which promptly gets set aside to wait on the rest of the food in the oven. sam wanders in at some point to drop off the food they brought. dessert, by the looks of it. pies and cakes that go in the fridge. it's kind of them, but claire would shoot herself in the foot before she ever admits it.

she lets kaia tug her into the living room where everyone is already at, rolling her eyes at how cheered everyone seems just because the winchesters happened to grace their doorstep. really, they all suck.

but also—and claire will never admit this, not even to save her own life—it's nice to see 'em again. it's nice that they've come to celebrate the day in jody and donna's name, giving them flowers and such. it's nice that they hang around for a bit and don't bring the world crashing down on everyone for the duration of their stay.

and, well, it's nice to see cas, too.

he perches up next to the couch that claire is squeezed on with alex, donna, kaia, and jack. kaia is practically in her lap, but claire is secretly glad for the excuse. while everyone talks and has conversations across one another, cas focuses entirely on her.

another thing claire will never admit is how reluctantly pleased by that she is. it warms her. stupidly, it turns soft and gooey in her chest that he automatically gives her his undivided attention over everyone else, even jack. but, then again, it's not cas' day, so she doesn't have to look too close to that feeling. it's mother's day, so it's not about him.

when the food is ready, they reconvene in the kitchen, and that's when they crack out the cards and gifts. claire is practically vibrating with laughter before jack has even brought his card out. before that, though, she smiles softly and strokes kaia's thigh under the table as jody and donna read their cards and chuckle at the messages, their gazes warm and their smiles sweet. they look happy. they deserve to be.

"okay, last one," claire announces, grinning at jack. she's starting to think she likes this kid if he's an agent of chaos like this.

and okay, maybe she hates him a little in abstract, but in detail, she finds that she does actually like him. you kinda just wanna put him in your pocket without meaning to, she's learned. there's too much to explore with the whole psuedo sibling thing and parents that aren't parents, as well as parents that are but didn't choose to be, only he did choose one of them, and it wasn't her. it's complicated, but underneath it all, there's a vibrant love there that she can't look directly at. sometimes, she despises that she's included in it; yet, just the same, she's thankful that she is.

"oh hell," dean mutters, swinging his gaze between alex and patience. "one of you...ya know? did we miss something?"

claire snorts.

"what? no," alex replies, grimacing. "i have no idea what claire's talking about. claire, what the hell are you talking about?"

"jack?" claire prompts in a wheeze.

"here you go," jack chirps, holding out the card to dean, beaming. "happy mother's day."

the expression on dean's face is somehow even better than claire imagined. she howls with laughter while sam buries his face in his hands, his shoulders jerking. cas squints at jack, and jody's eyebrows fly up at the same exact time that donna grins.

"is this a joke?" dean sputters.

"no, no, nope," claire chokes out, nearly fucking crying with laughter. "happy mother's day, dean."

"you gotta take it, man," sam agrees, clearing his throat and biting back a smile as he bobs his head dutifully towards the card.

dean fixes sam with a flat look and snatches the card. "you're all so fucking—sam, you signed it?!"

"happy mother's day," sam says, his mouth pinched, visibly trying not to laugh.

"do you like it?" jack asks earnestly. "i made the card, sam signed it first, and claire provided the money."

"i—" dean stares down at the card, then heaves a sigh and looks up at jack. it's clear to him that—out of everyone—jack is clearly taking this very seriously. he offers him a weak smile, then swallows. "yeah, s'great, kid. thank you. sam, you are dead to me. claire, i will be spending this on something you hate. cas, this is somehow your fault."

"yup, sounds like a mother to me," jody declares, holding up her beer with a smile.

"welcome to the club," donna agrees, holding hers up as well. "everyone else annoys the shit out of you, but you love 'em anyway."

dean sighs and clinks his beer to theirs.

#sobs adventures in writing #happy mother's day to all the spn moms!!!#dreamhunter #destiel adjacent #sort of?#look i just wanted to write something cute okay let me have this lmao #sobs says things #claire bear #jack jack #dean bean #cas bby #jody mills #donna hanscum #kaia nieves #spn ladies #sammeh

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vendettaparker · 3 years

Note

Tom Holland x actress reader

Where are there in the same movie together and the cast goes out and Tom and reader really likes eachother maybe smut and after it’s really awkward between them fluff with a sprinkle of angst

Not In Love [T.H]

Word Count: 3.1k

Warnings: sexual themes, cursing, slight angst, probably some typos

a/n: hi hi! i’m so sorry but i don’t write smut, so i hope it’s ok that i just implied it! i will probably start writing smut in the future but for right now i find it a bit awkward for myself to write. also, sorry that this took so long to get out, i planned for this to only be like 800-1k words, and obvioulsy, it just kept going. hope this works well for you!

✯¸.•´*¨`*•✿ ✿•*`¨*`•.¸✯

(Y/N) (L/N) does not fuck around with co-stars. Ever since you started acting at the young age of eight, you were always told by your mom, manager, and others in the industry to avoid casual, co-star related hook ups. As your career progressed, even through puberty, you remained faithful to your vow. No mingling with co-workers in a non professional manner. Sure, some of your previous co-stars and you remained good friends, even after filming. But the main internal lesson always stayed the same: don’t fuck your co-stars.

In your long and glorious career, the only hindrance to your resolve was Tom fucking Holland. His stupid British charm and playful wiles always had your knees buckling and the butterflies in your stomach going haywire. And when he called you darling? In that stupid, yet honey-like accent? You were done for.

Tom had the absolute pleasure of working with you in The Devil All The Time. He watched all of your movies and practically grew up watching you on Disney Channel. To say he was simply starstruck would’ve been an understatement, he was enamoured. Practically in love. And when he got to know how kind and sweet you were in real life—not just on screen— he just had to turn on his British charm, just to watch you squirm.

Every little comment he made caused your skin to tingle. Your stance on co-star relationships had never been so harshly challenged. He would constantly call you whatever cute pet name he could think of at the time, and unluckily for you, they always seemed to just roll right off his tongue. He even went out of his way to grab you a coffee if he went out to get one, or he’d ask his brother to make sure to bring back your signature order: caramel macchiato with almond milk, two pumps of vanilla, and extra caramel drizzle. How he knew that was your go to order was a mystery to you.

It’s not like you didn’t retaliate with your own antics though. Sometimes during his scenes you send him a wink and a smile, just to watch him lose focus. Or maybe you’d tease him about the way he says croissant, but then also say it in the over pronounced way he does, just to bug him. On days when the sexual tension between you two was especially palpable, you’d kiss his cheeks after his scenes and say “good job, babe” or something else to rile him up. So no, you weren’t innocent in this matter at all.

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This build up of tension was bound to boil over at some point. But why the fuck did it have to be during the fucking full cast and director dinner?

You all arrived at the fancy restaurant, all 40+ of you. You sat next to Eliza and secretly hoped that Sebastian, Harry, or even Robert would take the seat next to you, anyone but Tom. He had been especially touchy that day, and you knew if he continued his ministrations, especially under the cover of a table, your resolve would surely fade away.

Unfortunately for you, Tom practically bolted to the seat next to you. You scooted a bit closer to Eliza, who nudged your shoulder playfully.

“You should just give in.” She stated, smirking the whole time. “Look at him, poor thing just wants some love and attention.” she giggled, nodding her head to where Tom was whispering with Harry on the other side of him.

“Stop it, you’re insufferable.” You rolled your eyes, but still smiled at the joking banter.

“(Y/N), hon, he’s one of the hottest celebrities in Hollywood right now, and he wants you.” Eliza pinched your makeup covered cheek, “you’re telling me you don’t wanna just jump in his pants? Do you not find him hot or something?”

You smacked her hand away, “No, I do find him attractive, I just d—”

“Find who attractive, love?” Tom interrupted, smirking at the comment he heard. No, he didn’t know for sure you were talking about him, but one can hope.

“Nobody,” you dismissed, “I was just telling Eliza here that I think her dog is cute, right Eliza?”

“Sure.” She mumbled, rolling her eyes dramatically, then winking directly at Tom, just out of your view.

“Ah, I see.” He chuckled, “Yes, you find her dog attractive then?”

“No!” You defended, red faced from being backed into a hole, “I didn’t even use that word; you’re just hearing things.”

“Don’t worry, love. I find you absolutely, without a doubt, drop dead gorgeous.” Tom winked, before returning back to his conversation with Harry.

Eliza pinched your side, causing you to yelp. “See, I told you!” she whisper-yelled, a knowing smirk dawning her face.

“You didn’t tell me shit.”

“Ugh, whatever, you’re hopeless.” She sighed, just as the waiter was coming around to take your orders.

The majority of the evening went by just as simply and smoothly as possible, it was when dessert arrived that Tom stirred up trouble once again. His damned British charm made him the perfect devil in disguise.

“Darling, you have some cake right—” he licked his thumb before drawing it over your bottom lip, slowly, “here.”

He smirked at your surprised gaze and wiped the chocolate cake from your rose-painted lip. Never breaking his gaze, he drew his thumb back to his mouth and sucked on the digit, gently humming at the sweet taste of chocolate and strawberry lip gloss that flooded onto his tongue. This bitch.

You cleared your throat and ceased your—more than obvious— gawking. He wasn’t going to win this time. You sat quietly, smirking as he watched your every move, simply waiting for retaliation. And it came soon enough, when you knocked your water off the table into his lap, on accident, of course.

He jolted up the second the cold water hit his slacks, cursing, yet still keeping that charming smirk on his lips. You immediately started the steady stream of apologies, a faux look of remorse etched on your face. The rest of the cast simply looked on, none the wiser.

“Oh Tom! Gosh, I am so sorry.” You stood up as well, taking the napkin from your lap and dabbing his torso where the water splashed up. “I’m just so clumsy, forgive me.” You looked up at him with false serenity in your eyes, but a devilish grin.

“No worries, love.” He mused, “I’m just going to go dry off in the washroom. Could use some help though; it’s the least you could do.” The rest of the cast went back to their desserts and conversation, so they failed to notice the hidden glint in Tom’s eyes or the lustful insinuation behind his request.

“Sure.” You smiled up at him, determined not to lose this game of cat and mouse. You followed him to the large family restroom in a dimly lit corridor. He opened the door and gestured for you to go in first. What a gentleman, hm?

He closed the door behind him and locked it before undoing the buttons on his dress shirt and removing it. His toned torso also damp with freezing droplets of ice water.

You sucked in a shaky breath, taking in his less than professional, disheveled look. “You gonna come help me, princess?” He reached for paper towels and grabbed a handful, dabbing the wet spot on his lap, right over his crotch.

“I—um, sorry,” you snapped out of it. Following his movements, doing the same but to his wet torso.

“You’re okay, love.” He looked at you, the close proximity of your bodies creating the most delicious heat in the bathroom. Tom leaned in slightly, just until your noses were brushing against one another. “Though, I’ll admit, the fact that you're not giving me an apology kiss right now, makes this a little less than okay.”

You didn’t even process your actions completely, the second those words left his mouth yours lips were on his. You held his face in your hands, rough passion seeping through your entire body, and he was just the same. He kissed you fervently, holding your waist with one arm and the back of your head with his opposite hand, tangling his fingers into your hair. The tension and desire that had been building up for almost as long as you’ve known him finally boiling over.

Tom gingerly inched his hand up the side of your leg, under your dress.

“Wait, wait,” you pulled away, breathlessly, “we need to get back, they’re probably wondering where we are.”

Tom was about to concede when a knock rang through the room.

“Hey guys,” It was Eliza, “Seb paid for all of us, so we’re gonna head out. Take your time! Oh, and use protection!” You could practically hear the smirk on her face.

Tom stopped your little scowl by returning his attention to kissing you, “How lucky are we?” he mused, repositioning his hands, starting to fumble with the zipper of your dress.

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The next Monday at work was hell. You spent the whole weekend internalizing your little rendezvous in the bathroom. Tom texted you nearly fourteen times over the two day break period where you didn’t see each other, and you ignored every single one of them. The first ones were simple ‘hey’s’, ‘hi’s’, and ‘good morning’s’, but they soon progressed to show Tom’s concern over you not responding. The last message being,

Tom: I hope you know, I don’t regret it, but I’m sorry if you do.

You didn’t mean to ghost him, but your feelings were so confusing. You liked him and the things he did to you. But you had a code. And maybe the ‘don’t date your co-worker’ was a bit old school and shitty, but you’d been able to stick to it for this long and your work has never been better. Then again, all your previous boyfriends have been assholes; constantly upset over how busy your schedule was. Maybe a fellow actor would be more understanding?

The second you arrived to set Harry was on your ass.

“(Y/N), hey!” He called to you from the snack table where he was talking with Tom. You gave him a small smile and wave, but proceeded to your makeup chair. He motioned for you to join them, but you waved your hand in dismissal and gave him an apologetic look. Whether or not you regretted your night with Tom, you were absolutely not ready to confront it just yet. However, you didn’t miss the disappointed look on Tom’s face or the way Harry gave his brother a reassuring shoulder squeeze.

Harry even came up to you asking how your weekend was and if you were busy or not, no doubt trying to gauge your mood for Tom. You were friends with Harry so you didn’t mind talking to him, but when it was becoming apparent that you weren't giving much away as far as how you were feeling, Harry resorted to more ‘less than subtle’ questions.

“So… are you seeing anyone, currently?” He asked, playing with his fingers, the question struck you as extremely off-putting, especially since Harry said it with little to no confidence, like he really didn’t want to be asking that.

“Why? Are you trying to ask me out?” You teased. Watching him squirm was almost as fun as when it was Tom.

“No! No, I mean— I’m not opposed, you’re very pretty—no wait, I don’t mean it like that, I just—uh, I think you look nice, but not too nice—I’m gonna go.” Harry painfully stuttered out. Cursing under his breath as he walked away, back to where Tom was standing, watching on. These idiots were the most obvious divs in the whole world.

After you finished with your stylist, you were ready to start running lines for your scene. You have the majority of your scenes with Tom, so as per usual, you were acting opposite him. As the director was explaining how he wanted the scene to go, Tom kept glancing over at you, raising his eyebrows a bit, obviously wanting to clear the air.

The scene went by fine, but it was clear to many of the people around you that you were not on the top of your game today. It even got to the point where the director needed to ask if you needed a break. You said you didn’t and persisted. The scene was finally done to perfection, but it took almost double the amount of time it usually would for you.

Tom noticed you struggling the most and couldn’t help but feel guilty. He was quick to give you words of encouragement between takes, but you only responded with a quick ‘thanks’ and moved on.

When lunch time came around, the caterers were all set up and prepared on a different part of the lot. You quickly made your way over, running into Eliza on the way.

“Oh, hey (Y/N)!” she beamed at you. “Did you finish your scene?”

“Yeah, are you going to set right now?”

“Mhm, I’m shooting the scene at the church with Robert.”

“Well, good luck.” You smiled at her, about to move along when she grabbed your wrist.

“Wait, did something happen between you and Tom? He’s at the lunch table moping, even Seb is trying to cheer him up.”

“Um well no, I mean, maybe? I don’t know, I guess I’ve been avoiding him a bit.” You shrug, now not really wanting to go to lunch, but you know you have to. If you don’t show up then it’d be all too clear to Tom that you were definitely avoiding him.

“Oh, well, maybe just talk to him?” Eliza comfortably put a hand on your shoulder before walking away to set.

You continued to the lunch set up, seeing club sandwiches, soups, and cupcakes set up. You grabbed what you wanted and went to sit by Tom and everyone else. Yeah, you may have been avoiding him, but you didn’t want to make it that painstakingly obvious.

As soon as you sat down, Tom put his arm around you like he always did when you had lunch together. Only this time you stiffened up, not because you hated it, but because the action felt so different after what you both had done, it felt like it meant more. Tom noticed, of course, and removed his arm, frowning.

“Can I talk to you, (Y/N/N)?” he whispered to you, the rest of the table in their own little world, too caught up in their interactions to notice yours.

“Um, sure,” you mumbled in response, “but maybe when I have free time later? I’m just really hungry right now.” you gave him a small smile, trying to keep up the amicability.

He nodded and continued his conversation with Seb, who looked completely uninterested, but still continued responding since he could tell Tom was feeling shitty about something.

Later that evening, the entire cast had a one hour break since the next scene they wanted to shoot needed to be done at night and it wasn’t dark yet. That’s when Tom took you to his trailer to talk.

“Look, (Y/N), I don’t want to jump to conclusions, but I can’t help but feel like you’re avoiding me.” He stated, once the door was shut and you were already seated on his couch.

“I’m not.”

“But you are. I can tell. You didn’t talk to me at all today, even when I made a joke that I knew you’d have the perfect come back to.” He sat next to you, but kept more of a distance than usual.

“I don’t have to talk to you, Tom. You can’t rely on me to keep you entertained.” You rolled your eyes, annoyed that you’d been caught.

“That’s not what I’m saying, (Y/N), and you know it.” Tom pointed a finger at you, equally annoyed now.

“Fine, so what if I was avoiding you? You’re a grown man, you can handle rejection can’t you?” You spat. The argument was quickly becoming more heated. If there was one thing you hated the most in the world, it was being called out, especially if you knew you were in the wrong.

“What the fuck is your problem today?” Tom asked, exasperated at how defensive you got so quickly.

“Tom, I’m sorry, but I don’t do this,” you motioned between the two of you, “I don’t do the cliche Hollywood, sleeps around, one night stand scenario, so back off.”

“So you regret it.” Tom looked down, trying to keep his emotions at bay. He really did like you, but maybe it was naive of him to assume that sleeping together would open the door to something more.

“No, I just—it shouldn’t have happened. I liked it, but I’m not that type of girl. I’m a relationship type of person. I never wanted to be another girl for you to mark down on your list of possible hook ups.” You sighed. Tom wasn’t necessarily notorious for random hookups, but he was a famous actor who just so happened to also be single. It was hard to not go there with your thoughts, so in your mind, you had him pegged.

“I’m a relationship person too, though. I wanted all of this. All of you.” Tom inched closer, gingerly taking your hands in his. “I may have gone about it wrong, I should’ve asked you out first or something.”

“Tom, stop.”

“No, (Y/N), because you’ve got it all wrong. I didn’t flirt with you or spend time with you just to get in your pants.” Tom pulled you closer. “I surrounded myself with you because I wanted you. And I think you want me too.”

You looked in his eyes, searching for any sign of insincerity, small as it might be, but Tom was being the most sincere he could possibly be. Tom cautiously leaned closer, just wanting one more kiss, even if it was the last. However, you were the one that took the final plunge and pulled him in, kissing him. You both moved together so fluidly, like you were made for each other.

When you did pull apart, Tom was the one to break the silence, “So does that mean you like me or…”

“I kissed you, didn’t I?”

#tom holland #tom holland angst #tom holland x reader #tom holland fluff #tom holland x reader angst #tom holland x y/n #tom holland smut #tom holland oneshot #tom holland imagine #tom holland x actress!reader

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unbridgeabledistances · 3 years

Note

Prompt: mickey is walking with Franny when Terry shows up. Mickey protects Franny. Franny runs home where ian and family are and shouts that a man is hurting uncle mickey. Basically hurt mickey, protective ian. Ian conforting Mickey afterwards!

anon this is so GOOD !!! i LOVE some mickey & franny content, plus gallavich comfort :’) this is somewhat intense and got way too long lol, but the whole thing was so fun to write and i hope u enjoy <3

also my asks are open for more prompts! (since i am on winter break & bored out of my mind lol)

& ofc, tw for homophobia and physical violence

“C’mon kiddo! Bet you can’t catch me!”

“Yes, Uncle Mickey, yes I can!”

The sun was beating down onto the slushy pavement of the South Side, reflecting off the gritty late-winter snow that remained on the sides of the road and nearly blinding Mickey as he tried to lightly jog down the slippery sidewalk, just outside of Franny’s reach. Franny, who was a tottering bundle in her thick winter coat, a scratchy-looking red woolen scarf Tami had given her for Christmas, and a pink sparkly winter hat Debbie had forced over her ears before Mickey took her outside to play, was running as fast as she could to stay on Mickey’s heels.

Mickey hadn’t meant to take Franny as far away from the Gallagher house, into the winding South Side neighborhoods, as he had—Debbie was having some sort of meltdown about her business going to shit after a situation with organic snacks and climbing out a window (Mickey wasn’t even going to ask)—and sensing tensions were high, Mickey had pulled Franny out the back door to run around and play “gangsters,” her new favorite game, with the toy guns he’d gotten her for Christmas. They were going to stick to playing in the backyard, mostly because it was fucking freezing and almost dark outside, until Franny was about to encroach on Mickey’s fictional gang’s territory under the porch stairs, and of course Mickey couldn’t have that—so now they were racing through the streets, with Franny giggling and practically tripping over her own clunky winter boots every few steps.

“Is that all you’ve got, Wonder Woman? Come and get me!” Mickey called to Franny over his shoulder.

“I’m gonna get you! I will, Uncle Mickey!”

Mickey chuckled as he kept running, and felt his heart soften. As shitty as he’d always been with kids, and how often he always froze in panic anytime he’d had to take care of Yev back in the day, he had to admit that goofing around with Franny was pretty fucking fun.

And that also just made him depressed, because he knew that she was going to grow up surrounded by all of this bullshit—the dysfunctional family, Frank’s shenanigans, the drugs and beat downs, the mom with an ankle bracelet. Right now, Franny was just a kid—the neighborhood hadn’t taken its toll on her yet.

Luckily, Mickey didn’t have shit to do all day—he barely had a job aside from security for Kev and V’s practically non-existent pot side business, so he had plenty of time to play with Franny. If he could do anything with his life right now, he could make sure that Franny had some happy memories to cut through all the bullshit life was inevitably about to throw to her.

Mickey continued to run, lost in thought, until Franny caught up to him and sharply tugged on the back of his coat.

“I win, Uncle Mickey, I win! Now I’m gonna blow your face off!” Franny said with a playful scowl as she held up her toy gun.

Mickey chuckled and put his hands up in the air in resignation, turning to face Franny. “Alright, kid, you got me. Nice work.”

He held his hand out for Franny to high-five, which she gave willingly before pulling off her sparkly pink hat and throwing it on the ground.

“I’m too hot. Uncle Mickey, can we go home now? I think I know the way back.”

Mickey ruffled her hair. “Sounds good, kiddo. Lead the way.”

Just as they were about to start walking in the direction of the Gallagher house, a gruff voice came from behind them, mingling with the blowing wind.

“Mickey?”

Oh fuck.

Mickey turned around slowly, giving a quick mental prayer to whatever god that existed, if god even did fucking exist, that the voice he heard wasn’t the one he thought he had.

In the end, it was as bad as his worst nightmare.

Terry stood six feet in front of him on the ice-caked sidewalk, a lit cigarette dangling out of the corner of his mouth (just like it always was), his hands visibly curled into fists by his sides. Mickey took in a sharp breath, and tried to quell the wave of panic overtaking him. Calm the fuck down. Mickey tried to remember the checklist of what he always had to do when he saw his dad, a survival tactic he hadn’t had to think about for months: Keep your eyes down. See if you can smell alcohol. Look at his waistline and see if he has a gun.

Mickey’s eyes flickered to Terry’s pockets. No gun, thank fucking god. He slowly reached out behind him to take Franny’s tiny gloved hand, mentally cursing himself for letting them walk this far from home. Then he looked Terry in the eyes and swallowed. You can do this.

“Hiya, pops. What’re you doing over here on this beautiful Tuesday afternoon?”

Terry’s eyes narrowed, his stance still aggressive, but he remained rooted a safe distance away. “Don’t make fucking small talk with me, fairy boy.” He paused and took a drag of his cigarette. “Didn’t think I’d ever see you around here.”

“Well, I guess today’s your lucky day. About time for a family reunion.”

Terry gave a bitter, menacing chuckle that sent a shiver of remembrance down Mickey’s spine. “Who’s the kid?”

“Uh. It’s Debbie’s kid.” My niece, he bit back. My husband’s sister’s daughter.

Franny looked up at Mickey, not in confusion but in wide-eyed understanding. Franny was only five, sure, but she wasn’t stupid; she’d seen her fair share of violent shit go down on the street in front of her, and she knew what aggression looked like—what it looked like when someone was about to attack. Mickey looked back at her, and ever-so-slightly raised his eyebrows in what he hoped was a warning. Get ready to run, kid.

“Huh.” Terry threw his cigarette butt on the ground, slowly grinding the ash into the slush with the toe of his shoe. “Funny that you’re out here with her, all on your own. No one else on the street, not for blocks.”

Mickey exhaled, attempting to still his racing heart. On a different day, when he wasn’t so caught off guard by Terry’s presence, he would have ended this here and now; pulled a gun and put a bullet right through his father’s homophobic skull. But Terry was right—there was no one outside for miles, no one stirring behind the curtains of the houses lining the streets, no one to call for help if Terry physically overpowered him and kicked the life out of him. And Franny was still holding his hand.

“Yeah, well. We’re just goin’ for a walk. And we’re gonna head back now, if you’re… done.”

Terry held Mickey’s gaze, unblinking. When he spoke, his voice was low and ice cold. “When the fuck was I ever done with you?”

It all happened in an instant, but also in terrifyingly smooth slow motion—Terry charged at Mickey, fists raised, skidding across the ice in a blur.

“I’m gonna fucking kill you, you deformed excuse for a Milkovich!”

Terry was seething with the same fiery anger as when he flipped the table at Yevgeny’s christening, the night he found out that Mickey was gay—as he raced across the pavement, all Mickey could do was think about how to get Franny out of here before his father’s fist connected with his face. He gently shoved Franny behind him towards the sidewalk leading to the Gallagher house.

“Go, Franny, go!” He choked out, before Terry thrust a punch to his stomach and Mickey doubled over, kneeling on the damp sidewalk.

Terry’s shadow hovered over Mickey, and he knelt down, grabbing the hair at the scruff of Mickey’s neck. Mickey could smell his breath, all stale cigarettes and burnt coffee, like it had been for the past thirty years of his life.

“Been waiting a long time for this,” Terry said through his teeth. Mickey gathered every ounce of strength that he could— thank you, Kev Fit membership— and crashed his own head into his father’s, toppling him over and pinning him down. He quickly glanced over his shoulder, and saw Franny’s bootprints leading down the street, saw a flash of a red scarf turning the final corner a few blocks down. Thank god.

Terry squirmed under Mickey’s iron grip on his wrists. “Get off me, assfucker!”

“Sorry, Dad, no can do.” Mickey could almost grin. All he had to do was knock his dad out cold, and this whole thing could be over—

Out of nowhere Terry’s right arm broke free, striking Mickey’s side and toppling him onto the pavement.

“I’ve got you now,” Terry drawled, and that was the last thing Mickey heard before Terry’s boot stuck into his side and he saw stars.

The sun had almost set beneath the clouds, casting a warm glow through the front windows of the Gallagher house. Ian and Carl sat in the living room, engaged in particularly immersive debate about the accuracy of cop drama TV shows in an attempt to drown out Debbie’s continued melodrama of reading her bad Yelp reviews.

“Nah, man, I’m telling you, there’s no way an EMT would actually get to the scene that quickly anyways—"

There was a soft series of frantic knocks at the front door, so gentle Ian barely would have heard it if the TV volume wasn’t turned to a low hum. Ian sprang up and swung the front door open to… Franny?

A tear-stained, snow-soaked Franny, with matted hair and a scarf hanging half off her neck.

“Uncle Ian! Uncle Ian, we have to go help Uncle Mickey!”

What the fuck?

“Franny, what’s the matter?” Ian tried to gently guide her inside out of the cold, but Franny stomped her boots and shoved Ian’s hand away.

“We have to go now Uncle Ian! A man is hitting Uncle Mickey! We have to go quick!”

Ian froze. Shit. There were plenty of people who wanted an excuse to beat the crap out of Mickey, most of whom Mickey could take— but regardless, Ian didn’t want anyone fucking up Mickey’s parole.

“Oh, shit. Okay. Franny, can you take me to Uncle Mickey?”

Franny fervently nodded. “He’s up the street. I was chasing him when we were playing.”

Ian turned to call over his shoulder. “Hey, can anyone help me back Mickey up in a fight with some dude?”

Carl put his hands up in resignation. “Don’t look at me, man. I should be a mile away from any instance of Mickey breaking his parole.”

Sandy darted into the living room, from the kitchen where she had been consoling Debbie. “Mickey’s in a fight?”

“Apparently. He was playing with Franny down the road and now Franny’s back here.”

Sandy looked at the disheveled Franny standing in the doorway. “Shit. I’ll grab my shoes.”

“Uncle Ian, we have to go now!”

“Okay, we’re coming Franny. Lead the way.”

Franny guided them down the sidewalk, the three of them casting dark shadows onto the roadside piles of snow as the sun disappeared beneath the clouds. “This way!”

Ian didn’t really know what he was expecting to see as they turned the final corner, the street almost totally enveloped in darkness— maybe Mickey pinning some guy up against a wall, or in the back of a cop car. But he was certainly not prepared to see Mickey as a static heap sprawled on the sidewalk, while the unmistakable figure of Terry Milkovich stood above him, pummeling Ian’s husband.

Sandy noticed Terry’s presence before Ian could even react to what was going on. “Uh, Franny, hey, can you walk back to the house please?”

Before he knew what he was doing, Ian’s feet were sprinting down the street. “Terry! Get the FUCK off of him!”

Ian could barely register his body’s movements as he smashed his fist into Terry’s nose and tackled him to the ground. Terry spit in Ian’s face. “Fucking Gallagher!”

Ian hit Terry once again, keeping him pinned down. He struck him over and over, not stopping to process if he was even moving, or breathing, or fighting back.

“Hey! Everyone calm the fuck down!”

Ian looked up over his shoulder—Sandy was standing above them, pointing a gun directly at Terry, whose face was now bashed and bloody.

“Here’s what’s gonna happen, my dear Uncle Terry,” Sandy said in a sickly-sweet voice that didn’t match her iron gaze. “Ian’s going to get off of you, and you’re going to stand up and walk down the street back to your shithole house. And you’re going to watch your fucking back, because you never know when I could decide to come home one night while you’re asleep and make you regret everything you did this evening. Are we clear?”

Terry’s eyes narrowed, panting as he stayed pinned beneath Ian. “Those Gallagher queers got you too, huh?”

Sandy cocked the gun even more aggressively in Terrys direction, her thumb teasing the safety.

“That’s not how it works, dumbass. Unlike some pieces of garbage in this neighborhood, the Gallagher family actually cares about each other. Now—are we clear?”

Terry scowled at Ian, and gave a curt nod. “Get the fuck off me, fag.”

Ian didn’t budge. “Sandy, no,” Ian snarled.

“Ian, we’ll deal with him later.”

Ian looked up at Sandy, who met his eyes with an expectant gaze, still holding the gun directly at Terry. It took every ounce of strength Ian had to kneel and rise from the ground—it would be so easy to knock Terry out, to tell Sandy to pull to trigger, to put all the pain he’d caused behind them. To finally feel safe.

Terry immediately stood, and looked at Mickey on the ground, practically unconscious and his blood mingling with the snow. Terry opened his mouth to say some final retort— but Sandy clicked off the safety of the gun, steadily pointing it in his direction, and Terry promptly closed his mouth again. He turned and walked away.

Ian was immediately at Mickey’s side. “Fuck, Mickey, fuck.” Ian choked out. “Hey, look at me.”

Mickey had definitely hit his head, hard—there was a gash on his forehead dripping blood down his face, just like the night of Yevgeny’s christening when they’d watched Terry be forced into the back of a cop car. He looked up at Ian, his eyes drifting in and out of focus. Ian quickly scanned the rest of Mickey’s body—aside from a few solid kicks to the ribs, his head injury seemed to be the only major issue. Ian gently ran a hand through his hair.

“Mickey, hey, can you stand up? We’ve gotta get you home.”

First, get Mickey home— only then could Ian actually let himself process everything that had happened, and swallow down the bile rising from his stomach. First, Mickey had to be safe.

Sandy leaned over next to Ian. “Do you think we’re gonna have to carry him?”

“Uh, yeah I think so. Can you grab his legs?”

Mickey forced his heavy eyelids open, hazy and disoriented. He blinked, trying to clear the sleep out of his eyes. The blurry outlines of he and Ian’s bedroom, cloaked in darkness, slowly came into focus. He could feel the scratchy crocheted blanket on top of him, but aside from that his limbs were so heavy and numb he could barely move. A dull pain throbbed in the back of his head. Fuck.

“You awake?”

Ian was curled next to him in bed, not touching any part of Mickey’s aching body but leaning in close, nearly a centimeter away. Ian’s hand reached up and gently wiped a damp piece of hair off of Mickey’s forehead. Mickey winced.

“Sorry. How d’you feel?”

“I’ve definitely felt better,” Mickey croaked. “What time is it?”

“Almost 1 a.m. You’ve been out for a few hours,” Ian replied in a low voice.

“Shit.” Mickey closed his eyes. They were silent in the darkness for a few moments, but Mickey could feel Ian’s eyes on him. “My head fuckin’ hurts. What’s your prognosis, doc?”

“You definitely have a concussion. It probably won’t be a big deal in a week or two. You don’t need stitches or anything, though. And I did some EMT magic on your ribs, which mostly just means I put ice on them while you were sleeping.”

Mickey smirked, his eyes still closed—partially from the headache, but partially because he didn’t want to look Ian in the eyes yet. “Franny okay?”

“Yeah, she’s all good.”

“And, uh. Terry?”

He could feel Ian stiffen beside him. “Probably at home, being the same lowlife asshole he always has been. Sandy pulled a gun on him.”

Mickey opened his eyes, and could see through the darkness that Ian’s own eyes looked puffy and worn. It killed him to see Ian suffering, once again, because of him— it felt like they were always battling something at every turn, sure, but in Mickey’s case, it was almost always Terry they were fighting against.

“Fuck. When I’m less tired, and my body feels less like shit, remind me to go kill him, yeah?”

Ian laughed bitterly. “Yeah, I almost tried that tactic myself. I think Sandy scared the shit out of him, though. We’ll figure out what to do if he… acts up again.”

Mickey knew it was a lot more complicated than that, and that in the morning he would probably be seething and grabbing his guns and marching down to Terry’s house with fire in his eyes, but they didn’t need to dwell on that right now. Right now it was quiet, and Ian’s body was pressed against his, and Mickey was wrapped in a warm blanket in a bed with his husband. They were safe.

“I’ve thought I’d lost you thousands of times, Mick, but tonight really scared me” Ian softly whispered, cutting through the silence. “I thought… I don’t know, when I saw you on the sidewalk, I thought after all the shit your dad has said, I might’ve been too late.”

Mickey took a sharp breath in, making his ribs sting, while Ian kept talking.

“When you were in jail, or in Mexico, I knew you were always out there, and I guess knowing that always kept me going. But knowing I could have lost you again tonight—I don’t know, it scared the shit out of me,” Ian said, his voice breaking.

Mickey mustered all the strength he had, and slightly shifted his weight onto his left side to face Ian, whose eyes were glassy. Beneath all of Ian’s macho shit the past few weeks, it was so easy to look at him and forget that he was still also that tired, scared kid from the South Side that Mickey met ten years ago, one who didn’t know if good things could be permanent or if other people could stick around. Mickey put his hand up to Ian’s face, running his thumb up and down his cheekbone.

“Hey. C’mere.”

Ian wrapped his arms around Mickey—gently at first, like he was gliding his fingers over something precious, and then fully wrapping his arms around him, and burying his face in the hair on top of Mickey’s head. Mickey could feel Ian’s heartbeat through his thin t-shirt, feel the warmth radiating off of his biceps that encircled him. Ian pressed a kiss to the top of Mickey’s head, where his forehead met his hairline.

“I’m here, Gallagher,” Mickey whispered into Ian’s skin. “I’m not going anywhere. No one’s gonna change that shit.”

#lol I hope the first chunk of this is okay I am truly horrible at writing emotionally intense fight scenes #gallavich #gallavich fic #shameless #ian x mickey #ian gallagher #mickey milkovich

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ciarahollands · 4 years

Text

❥ 𝒅𝒆𝒄𝒆𝒎𝒃𝒆𝒓 𝒇𝒊𝒇𝒕𝒉 — p.p

series masterlist

summary: you and peter go on your first date. <3

pairing: peter parker x reader

warnings: none just tooth rotting fluff :) btw the names for their text messages are the names they put for each other.

work count: 1.8k

author’s note: oh my god sorry this took so long! i hope you angels understand. my phone got taken away so i had to rewrite this whole chapter. it’s definitely been a ride trying to write this chapter. btw the names for the text messages are the names you and peter gave each other :)

december 5th | 7:46am

y/n 🥺❤️

peter what time do you want to meet up?

cute hot chocolate boy 🥰

y/n why up early so early?

y/n 🥺❤️

i dunno. why are youuu???

cute hot chocolate boy 🥰

went out for an early morning run :)

y/n 🥺❤️

cute hot chocolate boy 🥰

don’t like running?

y/n 🥺❤️

early mornings and running. no thanks. 🥵

y/n 🥺❤️

and excuse me you didn’t

answer my question 🙄

cute hot chocolate boy 🥰

whoops 😣

cute hot chocolate boy 🥰

anytime after 7?

y/n 🥺❤️

sounds good! also did you

decide what we’re gonna do?

y/n 🥺❤️

i hope it’s not the christmas fair i feel

like it's so cliché during this time of year

cute hot chocolate 🥰

good thing that’s not what we’re gonna do

y/n 🥺❤️

glad you're putting effort on trying

to make this a good christmas

cute hot chocolate boy 🥰

i am?

y/n 🥺❤️

i hope so

cute hot chocolate boy 🥰

didn’t know that was apart of our date 🤭

y/n 🥺❤️

well it is now christmas boy

y/n 🥺❤️

mission: make this my favorite christmas

cute hot chocolate boy 🥰

i promise i’ll try my best 🥺

y/n 🥺❤️

you haven't let me down yet

y/n 🥺❤️

don't mess it up. i believe in you ;)

7:30pm | december 5th

you were outside of peter’s apartment building and waited for him to come down. he didn’t give you his apartment number so you were just outside in the cold, you didn’t mind — it was december after all. you felt a tap on your shoulder when you turned around your eyes met with peter’s.

❝so what do you have planned for us tonight christmas boy?❞ you asked, holding out your hand for him to grab.

❝we’re gonna walk there, i promise it’s not far.❞ peter replied, taking your hand which was much smaller than his. you smiled and let peter lead the way. the walk was quiet but comfortable. the night was bright with lights scattered around the streets and sidewalks. when peter stopped you knew you arrived and your eyebrows furrowed in confusion. ❝i thought we weren’t going to the christmas fair peter!❞

❝were aren’t gonna be here long. i’m just going to grab something and then i’m actually going to take you where i promised.❞ peter said, pulling you into one of the lines for hot chocolate.

❝couldn’t have we got hot cocoa somewhere else christmas boy?❞ you quipped.

peter sighed, ❝as much as i love my swiss miss this is the best hot chocolate there is.❞

you playfully rolled your eyes, ❝fine… but can i get a funnel cake.❞

❝you beat me to it i was planning on getting one.❞ peter shyly responded, looking at you in adoration.

you were in awe, ❝you never fail to impress.❞ then randomly kissed his cheek without realizing your sudden affection. it was small but it was enough to make peter blush his face was more red if that was even possible. his cold red cheeks were exchanged with a warm blushed face.

he paid for the hot chocolate and funnel cake, not even letting you interject to pay for a part of it. you decided to share one not necessarily for romantic purposes. the funnel cake was just too big to be able to finish each one on your own. you were a little sad that you didn’t get to hold peter’s hand on your way to your second destination because of the items the both of you were holding but you knew the walk wasn’t long so you just shook it off.

8:00pm | december 5th

you and peter were in an elevator inside what seemed to be an apartment complex like his but a bit nicer. once you got to the roof you were in awe. it was almost like a small garden and there was a blanket nicely set on the grass with a few other things next to it, you could see the whole carnival and the beautiful bright lights most importantly the whole city. peter did this for you. it was simple, beautiful, and cute — it was perfect.

❝i know it’s simple-❞ before peter could finish his sentence you had something to say, ❝peter oh my god! this is amazing!❞ you gasped excitedly sitting down on the blanket while opening the box the funnel cake was in.

when you turned around peter was still standing, ❝peter what are you doing up come sit!❞ peter walked toward you and you held out a fork for him to take. you scooted closer to peter so you could share your funnel cake and take sips of your own hot chocolates. it was the best hot chocolate you have ever tasted but you wouldn’t admit that to him — not yet at least. once the two of you finished eating you tossed the box to the side and laid on your back. peter turned around and you looked at him motioning for him to do the same.

the two of you laid down looking at the stars glimmering above the both of you. ❝hey peter, how did you find this place?❞ you asked, turning your head around to face him.

peter did the same before responding. he took a second to think because he couldn’t say he found it when he was patrolling, he wasn’t ready to tell you yet. ❝i- uhm… my friend showed this to me awhile back?❞

❝oo wait you haven’t told me about your friends. what are they like?❞ you wanted to know more about peter, sure he was a bit dorky but he had a great personality so he had to have a few friends.

❝well my two closest friends are ned and mj but i’m closer to ned. i’m in academic decathlon with both of them which is pretty cool. what about you?❞ he asked at the end of his sentence. your eyes widened. ❝me?❞

❝yes you dummy.❞ peter replied laughing.

❝you’re my friend duh.❞ you said smiling.

peter’s eyebrows furrowed, ❝no but i mean like at school and stuff.❞

you sighed and rolled your eyes, ❝i’m not really a people person. i mean sure i talk to people but i’m not super close with anyone. guess i’m not really a person people look for in a friend.❞

that made peter’s heartbreak. how could someone not want to be friends with you? ❝well you’re the type of friend i’m looking for.❞ he said wholeheartedly, giving you a soft smile.

you sighed in relief, ❝really? you’re serious hot chocolate boy?❞

peter nodded without hesitation. ❝i mean i wouldn’t have gone on this date if i wasn’t.❞

❝wait this is a date?!❞ you sarcastically responded.

❝w-wait it isn’t?❞ he stuttered looking at you with wide eyes.

you laughed, ❝relax i was joking. this is a date you dork.❞ you turned your head and pointed at one of the stars. ❝peter look! that should be our star. what should we name it?❞

❝that’s venus y/n.❞ peter quickly said without hesitation. god why was peter so smart?

❝you can see planets with the naked eye?❞ you gasped utterly confused. peter nodded his head.

❝also, way to ruin the moment peter.❞ you said rolling your eyes jokingly.

❝sorry but it’s true! hey look we can name that star.❞ he pointed at the star not too far from venus.

❝fine❞ you whined trying to figure out a name for you and peter’s star but you were stumped. you sighed. ❝any ideas?❞

❝no! this was your idea!❞ peter pointed out. you slapped his chest, ❝this is a team effort! plus you’re the smart one.❞ you grumbled.

❝okay okay uh let’s name it… shitty cocoa. i have honestly have no ideas y/n.❞

you gasped, ❝i love it! please stop being a genius, you make me look dumber every second you speak.❞

❝what?! you told me to name it❞ peter argued.

you stood up and waited for peter to do the same. ❝get up i’m bored.❞

❝what do you want to do then?❞ peter questioned.

❝we’re going on the ferris wheel, i changed my mind we’re going to the fair but only for that ride.❞ you grabbed a blanket and headed toward the elevator.

❝what’s with the blanket?❞ peter asked, giggling a bit.

❝i’m getting cold, don't question me peter. also this blanket is amazing. where did you get it?❞

❝i don’t know❞ peter replied, shrugging his shoulders.

you groaned, ❝dang it. i was totally about to buy one.❞

9:45pm | december 5th

the two of you walked hand in hand with peter’s blanket draped around your shoulders. you paid for the tickets and waited in line for the ferris wheel smiling excitedly.

peter looked at your giddy expression with his blanket cuddled around you and just smiled and quietly laughed to himself. ❝we’re next peter!❞

when the two of you were in the seat you scoot in to cuddle against peter, he looked a little cold but wouldn’t admit it.

❝peter come closer we can share the blanket. i don't bite y’know❞ you giggled.

❝no it’s okay i’m not cold❞ he lied, shivering a bit. you knew if you were going to continue dating peter (hopefully) that he would most likely be the stubborn type.

you rolled your eyes and tossed a part of the blanket to his side to drape around his shoulder as well. you suddenly felt the ride move and was startled a bit. ❝sorry❞ you said, laughing at yourself a bit. peter giggled and the two of you just watched the city below you.

❝look it’s our star!❞ peter said, pointing at your shared star.

❝it looks so pretty from up here.❞ you responded in awe. the way so looked at the star was the way peter looked at you. not that much longer you were off the ride and walked to the back of the ride where there wasn’t a crowd.

10:27pm | december 5th

you both turned around at the same time and smiled at one another. ❝my mom said she would pick me up at 10:30 at the front of the fair… so i guess this is goodbye…❞ you whispered letting go of the blanket draped on your shoulders. ❝i had a really good time peter, thanks for tonight.❞ you said looking down at your shoes. neither of you wanted the night to end but it had to at some point.

❝uh- w-well i’m glad.❞ he was relieved you said that you had a good time.

❝mission accomplished hot chocolate boy.❞ you kissed his rosy cheeks and ran off before peter could say anymore.

peter definitely had something to talk about monday to ned and mj. ❝mission accomplished peter.❞ he whispered the words to himself proudly.

chapter four

taglist:

@blushypetey @saturnpeter @fivxss

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babyboy-cody · 3 years

Text

‘ ‘ chapter | 01 ’ ’

complex desires. ( prologue ) ( masterlist )

SUMMARY: It’s the first week of classes after winter break, but you’re not exactly used to seeing new faces - teachers and students in between.

WARNINGS: explicit language, mentions of mental disorders, anxious thoughts, anxiety attack

WORD COUNT: 2.8k

NOTES: i’m currently writing this chapter while drinking a big ass mug of hot cocoa. also, hunter’s pronouns are they/them! this series is one i’m most excited for. hope you kiddies enjoy <3

It was still early when the clouds gave off their rain to the grass and trees, when the road became alive with more splashes than your eyes could appreciate. Yet together they brought such a soothing sound, a natural melody every bit as beautiful as a mother's soulful hum. You felt each splash that touched your skin, watching as your cardigan become a deeper, more rocky hue. It was as if earlier the street had been a matte photograph, only to be washed as glossy as any magazine page.

Each raindrop is a kaleidoscope, if people could only see more closely. You wonder as you walk how it would be to stop time, to suspend this watery gift and peek through each one. Perhaps it would be fun to sit inside those raindrops and take that gravity propelled ride to the earth, as you imagine it you feel your inner self laughing – a little at the crazy daydream and a little at your own silliness. You see the rain beads upon the cars, upon each leaf and washing your outstretched fingers. Soon they will pull together, forming the puddles, opening up a whole new avenue of rain-related fun. Perhaps it isn't normal to love a rainy day so much, but who cares about normal anyway? You’re pretty sure "normal" is a made up thing.

Upon the umbrella come the playful sounds of dancing drops, and from it's rim comes the sight of their more relaxed cousins, dripping as if their soul purpose was to bring a sense of ease and calm to the day. And as the rain became more intense, it began to soak the bottom of each dark blue jean leg, deepening the denim to a stronger hue, bringing your brown boots to a glossy water-shine, becoming a kind of natural cocoon.

Each raindrop is a doorway into nature's heart, an invitation of sorts, a request for your soul to rejoin creation. In the rain there is a serenity, a sense of peace that offers to resonate with the peaceful elements of the soul. Walking among those drops is your meditation, a way to fully become present in the moment, a way to feel free.

There was a vibration coming to life in the back pocket of your jeans, cutting you out of your peaceful daydream in the rain. You stepped to the side to allow a cyclist to pass by and gave him a brief smile when he nodded his head in thanks. When you pulled out your phone to read the contact, you instantly smiled when seeing Mickey’s name on the screen.

“Okay, first off, hello. Second off, where the hell are you? Me and Hunter – okaayy – Hunter and I have been in the cafeteria since 7:15 in the goddamn morning,” she immediately went off as soon as you put the phone to your ear. “Also, did you take your meds today? My alarm went off as a reminder.”

“First off, hi back, Mick. Second off, it’s been 15 minutes and I’m five minutes away from the school. It’s fine if we don’t have breakfast today just once,” you laughed as you heard her scoff. “And thirdly, yes mom, I did take my meds. I actually have to get another refill for my BPD meds. Thank you for asking.”

“Yeah, yeah. Well, you better hurry. We have the last of your favorite yogurt and Hunter’s close to eating the damn thing,” you heard Mickey laugh as she shushes her significant other. “Also, be careful coming around the usual entrance. The school is doing some bogus construction to add a statue of the principal.”

“You’re shitting me!” You exclaimed, earning a dirty glare from a tiny senior citizen as she slowly walks passed you with her small cane. “What the hell did this prick do to earn that? Also, can you grab me a fruit cup too? I’ve been craving kiwi’s for some odd reason.”

“Well, he’s wicked rich and can basically do anything in this school and get away with it, literally. And there’s no fruit cups today, but there’s a bag of sliced apples and tangerine slices,” Mickey told you as she huffed, which you assume is her getting out of her seat to go back to the assortment of breakfast foods. “Ooh, there’s bagels too. I think they just added these.”

“Jesus Christ, this statue is stupid as hell,” you groaned and stood in front of the half built statue, your principal’s name on a gold plated plaque attached to the marble. “This guy really needs an ego boost, huh? And just tangerine slices then. I’m heading inside.”

“Alright, see you soon, baby doll.” She annoyingly kisses into the phone as you snorted and rolled your eyes at her antics.

Sliding your phone back into your pocket, you stood outside the entrance doors and shook the leftover raindrops from your yellow umbrella before closing it. You inhaled the fresh rain water for one last time before grasping onto the freezing cold and disgustingly wet doorknob and pulling it open to head inside. There was a small litter of students here and there; some reading new announcements on the bulletin board in the main hall; some sitting in the lounging chairs with laptops or textbooks open on their laps; some sitting on the ground with a half empty bottle of water beside their laps and phones in their hands, headphones in their ears. You terribly, annoyingly, and oddly missed this. You missed the bustle of students laughing and running down the halls. You missed it all, even if it has been two weeks.

You hear loud chatter coming from just ahead, so you know you’re about to enter the cafeteria area. Just as you’re about to do so, you stop in your tracks in front of a bulletin board. There were a few posters for new clubs, as well as study groups, upcoming announcements, room changes, and more. But one that really struck out to you was a new story writing group, specifically for writers or English majors. You felt a burst of excitement spread throughout your chest and settle into the pit of your stomach. You made sure to take a quick photo of the sheet beforr moving on into the cafeteria.

Almost immediately, you spotted Hunters straight platinum blonde hair and fiery streaks on one side while the other was icy blue. Sitting in front of them was Mickey, her hair curly and unruly, making you wonder if she rolled out of bed, threw some clothes on, and called it a day. You felt your cheek mucles twitch as your lips pulled up into a bright smile. Hunter was the first to notice you. They looked up at you passed Mickey’s shoulder and smiled so brightly that it made you reciprocate. They adorned bright orange eyeshadow with white eyeliner, making their eyes pop out even more. You loved how they didn’t cake on makeup, they kept it simple, yet so drop dead gorgeous.

“There she is, the man of the hour,” they announced and got up from their seat to pull you in for a warm, tight hug. “I missed you so much. I’m so sorry for not messaging you the entire break. We didn’t have any service whatsoever.” There was a crestfallen look on Hunter’s face and you held their cheeks so they wouldn’t look away.

“Look at me, don’t stress about it, okay? Did you at least have fun?” They nodded with a pout. You grinned and gave their forehead a kiss before pulling them in for another hug.

“Okay, first you’re late. And now you’re stealing my person. I see how it is,” Mickey smirked as you gave her the bird behind Hunter’s back as you both pulled away from the hug. “Hi Y/N.”

“Hi Michelle,” you responded in the same tone as you sat in an empty chair around the table. “Give me my tangerine, please.” She passed you the small cup of tangerine slices with a grin when you began eating them.

“You been eating three times a day?” She asked you, looking at you through her mane of curls rather than pushing her hair away. You shrugged and kept your eyes on the half empty cup in your hands. “Y/N..”

“I’m doing it little by little, Mick. And I’m starting to drink water too,” you blushed and laughed softly when her and Hunter began praising you. Praise was something you weren’t used to, but hearing it every now and then really gave you butterflies. “It’s nothing..”

“Are you kidding me?” Hunter laughed and reached over to lay a hand over yours. “This is amazing. This is progress and we’re both so very proud of you.”

“You’ve come a long way,” Mickey lightly bumped your shoulder with her knuckles as Hunter pulled away. “You should do a meal plan like I did when I had to get my weight back up, so that way you don’t forget to eat three times a day.”

“I don’t know.. I don’t exactly have the funds to buy a lot of groceries. I had to use over $100 of my food stamps cause almost everything in my kitchen was old,” you huffed and popped another tangerine slice into your mouth. “Plus, I’ve been busy with finding a job and paying for my therapy appointments and doing school work, and it’s all so fucking overwhelming.”

The first bell rang, signaling students to begin their walk to class with only a few more minutes to spare. You grabbed your shoulder bag and stood beside Mickey while she held onto Hunter’s hand. The three of you passed by a swarm of students; freshman’s and sophomores running by to get to the lecture halls early; juniors having their books and laptops already out and pressed to their chests; seniors loitering in the halls with their friends. Thankfully, you, Hunter, and Mickey had your first English class together.

“How about this?” Mickey began. “Hunter and I will help pay for your groceries.” She hushed you as you began to lightly protest. “Listen, you already got a lot on your plate. I’d be a really shitty best friend if I allowed you to deal with all that. So every week, we’re gonna swing by your place to drop off some stuff, okay? I’ll create a meal plan for you with your favorites, so that way we’re taking that worry for money off your back.”

“Mick, you don’t have to do that for me. Like I said, I’ll find a way,” you mumbled and shrugged as you walked up the long staircase to head up to the lecture halls. “I couldn’t do that to you guys.”

“Y/N,” Hunter stopped you three in the middle of the hallway. “We care about you and we don’t want you going down that negative route alone. We both have jobs and enough money to cover Mickey and I, and it’ll seriously make me the happiest if you let us do this, please.”

“Two more minutes until class begins,” the voiceover on the speaker spoke.

“Fine,” you sighed, feeling a smile pull your lips as you all continued walking to the English room. “I love you both. And I’m very grateful for you to do this for me.”

“We know,” Mickey told you as she kissed your cheek obnoxiously, causing you to groan and Hunter to laugh. “But in all seriousness, don’t be a stranger to asking, okay?”

You nodded and gave her a reassuring smile as you made your up the steps to your seats in the bottom middle row. Mickey sat in between you and Hunter as more students filled the class. There was light chatter and soft clatter as seats were pulled down and the folding desks were pulled up. You set your bag between your feet, being cautious of not getting it dirty from your boots. Pulling out your spiral notebook that had four sections, you neatly wrote the course name, your name, and the date. Nervously clicking your pen, you tried to block out the noise that had started to get a little too loud. Nibbling on your bottom lip to distract yourself, your feet began tapping on its own while you tapped your pen on your book. Mickey and Hunter were having a conversation of their own, so they didn’t notice the early signs of a small anxiety attack.

An invisible hand clasps over your mouth; an equally ghostly hypodermic of adrenaline pierces your heart, unloading in an instant. You feel your ribs heaving as if bound by ropes, straining to inflate your lungs. Your head is a carousel of fears spinning out of control, each one pushing your mind into blackness. You want to run; you need to freeze. Sounds that were near feel far away, like you’re no longer in the body that sits paralyzed in the cold seat. Your breath comes out in rapid, shallow breaths as you shake your head at yourself.

“No, no, no,” you harshly whisper as your bobbing knee gets almost frantic.

You felt the panic begin like a cluster of spark plugs in your abdomen. Tension grew your her face and limbs, your mind replaying the last attack. You held onto the sides of your head, your elbows digging into the hardness of your desk. Your only movement was the trembling of your limbs and salty tears darkening your sleeves. There you stayed, unaware of the numerous eyes watching you until Mickey turned and noticed your frantic state.

“Shit,” she hissed and slung her arm across your desk as the other wrapped around your shoulders. “I’m here, Y/N. It’s okay.. sshhh.. I’m right here.” She noticed a few students staring, to which she narrowed her eyes and snarled, “What the fuck are you looking at, dipshits?!” They immediately looked away after being caught. She turned her attention back on you. “What’s going on, huh?” Her voice was soft and soothing as she smoothed her hand down your hair.

“It-It’s so.. loud,” you hiccuped and covered your face even more when a sob escaped your lips, spit flying onto your hands as you felt your neck, cheeks, and ears heat up out of embarrassment and shame. “I can’t stop it, Mick. I-I can’t!”

Hunter sat on the other side of you, reaching down to get your back, shuffling their hand inside to pull out your earplugs and inhaler. They handed the earplugs fo Mickey while pressing the opening of the inhaler to your lips. “Come on, babe,” they quietly told you and tucked a few strands of hair behind your ears, lightly blowing on your flushed skin to cool it down. “There we go,” they gently said when you took two deep puffs of your inhaler while Mickey made sure your earplugs were snug inside your ears. You felt your lungs open up as the cold, bitter medicine settled on your tongue.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper and shook your head, wiping away the last of your tears. You sniffled and looked at Mickey and Hunter. “I-I don’t know what happened.. it just... happened.”

“It’s always unexplained, but don’t be sorry for something you can’t control, okay?” Mickey told you firmly while making sure you were looking into her eyes. “This doesn’t make you any less of a person.”

Hunter smiled and sat your bag back between your feet before moving to their seat next to Mickey. All the students had settled down, their conversations now a quiet murmur. You felt relieved as you pulled your earplugs out and slid them inside your protective case, making sure the lid was closed tight before shoving it into your bag. Mickey kept an eye on you the entire time, making sure no one triggered you. She sat with an elbow resting on the back her chair with her legs lightly spread.

“You’re man-spreading,” you quietly told her, laughing quietly when she flipped you off.

Suddenly, the metal doors opened and a man hurriedly walks in with an expensive looking leather messenger back over his shoulder. Your lips parted and you sat up straight in your seat when he gave the class a guilty smile. You’ve never seen him in the school. Not even before break. He must’ve been in a different department and just got transferred to the English center. He deeply intrigued you. You noticed the other girls in the class twirling their hair in a cliché way with the tips of their pens between their teeth. He wore all black, and it was so very different compared to what other professors wore. There was no sweater vest or button up shirt. He just wore a comfortable and soft looking black sweater with black jeans and black boots. His dirty blonde - almost brunette - hair was perfectly styled. He looked devastatingly handsome.

“Hello, my name is Professor Shepherd and I’m going to be your English teacher for the rest of the semester. Professor Winifred recently had her baby during winter break and shall be back for the next semester,” he gave another knee-weakening grin as he clapped his hands together. “Shall we get started?”

#AAAHHHH FIRST CHAPTER IS OUT!!!#we’re just getting started 😏#duncan shepherd x reader #bill skarsgård x reader #professor!bill #professor!duncan #love triangle #complex desires series

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dawniebb · 4 years

Text

Face reveal bc yes

So, guys...especially from the Renegades fandom bc i’m the most active there: you saw the title lmao. This will...barely get notes (i wonder if it’ll get notes at all) buuUUUT YEAH LET’S GOOOO (If you’re gonna reblog pls be respectful bc i have issues and btw reblog ONLY if we are mutuals)

THIS IS ME! <3 HELLOOOO!!!

Now, if you want to stop here, do it. If you don’t...well

I’m going to tell you a story about myself and why I decided to post this.

First of all, I’m not celebrating anything. I’m just celebrating me, I guess (?) and in fact I’ve been wanting to do this since my parents got me a She-Ra cake for my 20th birthday back in May, because I loved that thing and felt the physical need to shove that thing into everyone’s faces But I didn’t because I didn’t feel ready enough...then that thought left my mind, and it came back like two weeks ago.

I’ve had mental issues since I was in like...elementary school. I’m sure I had felt depressed before I turned 12; however, the first memory I hold of feeling so, it’s when I was already 12. Because it was then when I realized that I wasn’t just a dumb kid who didn’t know how to make friends xd To this day, I genuinely feel like I was suffering from isolation bullying; you know xd my classmates purposely excluded me from activities, they would find any excuse for not letting me join their work teams and stuff like that; during my last year at elementary school, I only had like one friend, and that one friend and I shared a sort of abusive/toxic relationship, as in: manipulation, “we’re best friends. you should only talk to ME”, and then this friend turned her back at me too, because she decided to join the rest of the group and ignore me.

lol.

And I remember wondering what was I doing wrong. Like, why didn’t people like me; why didn’t they want to hang out with me; why did everyone seem to have friends except me. And then I got trapped into a very...dark place, and I remember being overthinking one day, because I tend to overthink a lot...and I remembered this specific kid who was in the same class as me.

I was in the line for the teacher to check my homework, and this kid, a boy, was behind me.

You see. I’ve always been chubby xd I don’t think I’ve ever been skinny since I was 2 years old or so, because by the time I was in kindergarten my classmates’ moms were already calling me a ‘little meatball’ thinking it was a fucking adorable nickname because Mexican moms can be pretty shitty sometimes don’t let the media stereotypes fool you not all of them are all cheerful and upbeat and when I was in elementary school, for some reason, besides being chubby, I had a really bad posture. And this boy who was behind me started imitating my way of walking and his friends were laughing, so I turned around and asked him wtf his problem was xd and he turned around to his friends and asked “Do you see how hunchback she is?” like I wasn’t even there xd and I genuinely tried to slap him but I couldn’t, and he said “Yo, stop moving because you’re going to cause an earthquake”

And my mom has always felt personally attacked for the fact I’m...u know, fat. She has always been very insistent on the fact I need to lose weight and stuff like that. And her, mixed with my experiences at school, made me feel like I wasn’t enough.

But my mind started saying things like “And u know why you aren’t enough? Because you’re fat”

Because, like, the day of the hunchback insult, when I told the teacher, who was a very shitty teacher btw but i’m not talking about her again today (i’ve already talked about her in MANY of my university papers, because I’m studying to be an English teacher), she turned around at him and said “Don’t listen to HER” and to this day I still don’t know why xd

But it made me feel like I wasn’t enough. Because I was fat.

Lol x2.

To this day, I still don’t know if I have an ED. Like, I genuinely don’t know. But I can safely say that, if I have one, it’s more likely BED... because, through the years, I managed to lose weight when I turned like 15 and I had my quinceañera party, but then first year of high school came and I had a relapse into depression...like, this might come off as a very unpopular opinion, but junior high school was dope for me x’d I remember it as one of the best years in my life, right after my second and third year in high school (high school in Mexico lasts only three years) and so...when I started my first year in high school and got fucking depressed again, I gained ALL that weight back, and even doubled it. During my second year of high school, I met my friends. The friends I still keep with me to this day. And they accepted me like the fucking train wreck I was, failing math like three times in a row and crying about it every single one of those times because I’m pretty sure I have dyscalculia but my parents won’t listen to me they think i’m just lazy when it comes to math even though they know i cant even read a fucking clock . And them, along with my another very close friend who I met via fanfction when I was 12, helped me go through it. Like, I did have some issues with my body during high school, but not as much as you would expect. They were getting pretty bad in my first and second semester, but during the other four my friends managed to stop me from losing my mind, even when it all went to shit in my third year again for different reasons.

Then I graduated from high school, and I made friends there too. Although my best friends are still my friend from fanfiction, my friends from high school and just one of my university friends. And you know...I was left...pretty scarred from the shit that happened during third year of high school, and even if I didn’t feel like I was *that* depressed, I did gain a lot of weight.

Like, the highest I’ve ever been. Then my dad got sick during October from last year, then my two doggies were murdered god i fucking hate my neighbors the same day my dad was released from the hospital and my mom went kinda nuts during December and I wanted to just...yeah.

So I did a lot of emotional eating. Like, y’all don’t understand.

It was like...I would go to uni and eat a brownie. Then chocolates on my way home. THEN a “a snack” like...fucking rice krispies. Then a huge ass meal, with soda bc why not. Then I would have either cookies or hot cheetos as a treat after my huge ass meal,

I’m a short person xd carrying that much weight was making my ribs and back hurt, as well as my legs and feet; my breathing was freaking awful, and there were some days were I got SO paranoid I just said things like “i’m gonna die today” or “out here trying to get diabetes like the rest of your family, aren’t you??” :’) but i didn’t tell anybody. My parents are not really an option in this case, BUT I didn’t tell my friends, because then I would have to explain that I ate a lot and that was something I was EXTREMELY ashamed of.

When February came, I was scared of going out, because I knew I would have to choose what clothes to wear and nothing fit me anymore and, the things that did, looked super stretched on me and, u know, I was sore. My health was getting bad. But I didn’t like to feel that way.

AND I MUST CLARIFY HERE. I’M WORKING ON THAT. I’M ACTUALLY A BODY POSITIVY DEFENDER, I JUST DIDN’T LIKE HOW *I* LOOKED AND, BESIDES, I WAS GETTING SICK. I GENUINELY THOUGHT I WAS GOING TO DIE AT SOME POINT. I’M NOT SAYING BEING FAT OR CHUBBY IS DISGUSTING. NO. I BELIEVE ALL HUMAN BEINGS ARE EXTREMELY BEAUTIFUL. AND IF I’M WRITING THIS IS BECAUSE I WANT YOU TO KNOW RECOVERY IS DISGUSTING AND DIFFICULT SOMETIMES AND THAT IF YOU’RE GOING THROUGH SOMETHING LIKE THAT: I’M SORRY. NOBODY SHOULD EVER FEEL LIKE THAT. I SUPPORT YOU. AND I HOPE THINGS GET BETTER. AND NO MATTER WHAT OTHERS SAY, YOU’RE BEAUTIFUL. YOU ARE TO CHANGE ONLY IF YOU WANT TO CHANGE. BECAUSE IT’S YOUR BODY. KEEP HOLDING ON.

But going back to the story...

My friends used to tell me I looked pretty all the time, which I appreciate a lot to this day. But my parents were like

Me: I’m fat and I look deformed.

Them: I agree.

Because yeah.

Just before the pandemic madness happened, I went on a school trip with my uni friends and one of them triggered my isolation trauma in the worst way possible...and that, somehow, ruined ALL the photos I took throughout the trip. Because I wasn’t enough. Because I was deformed and fat and I looked like an apple. Because nobody wanted to be seen near me. And my personality was shitty.

Like, I should’ve known I was worth it. I’m still worth it and I know that. But I wasn’t less worth it when I was chubbier. And maybe I didn’t look as bad as my head made me believe. But at the time my mental health was extremely awful.

Now, covid happened.

Not gonna lie. Quarantine fucked me up as much as it fucked everyone else, but for me...by not going out, I stopped being near trigger foods, and I was even able to consult a dietitian.

I’ve lost 15 kg since March. And I’ve managed to love my past self, but I love this one because changing it was my decision. Sure, my parents didn’t help a lot, but in the end it was MY decision. I’ve come to accept I was worth it even when I felt disgusted by myself, and all of those awful things people said or did to me, like my friend during that trip...

I didn’t deserve any of those things. Because NO ONE deserves to be treated that way. No one deserves somebody else making fun of them. No one deserves somebody else doing awful things to them that they know damn well that they trigger their childhood trauma. No one deserves to be judged for the way they look.

I was in a very dark place, and sometimes I’m still inside there. And like...during all those times, I kept posting in here.

I remember being next to my dad in the hospital, telling him “Guess what? Supernova drops this week” or “We’re going to watch TDP together, right?” or “Let me talk to you about She-Ra...” ....those were things that like...saved my life for a while, though mostly Supernova. Because, actually, Marissa Meyer has helped me in my fucking darkest years x’d from my third year of high school until now.

Her books didn’t take my depression away, but they did make things a little lighter for me, even when I felt like dying.

And I know this fandom is like..full of minors, so...I don’t know if any of you need to hear this: But you’re worth it.

If you want to change anything in your body, do it because YOU want to.

Because YOU’LL like you better.

Because it’s YOUR body, and it’s the only part of yourself that you and other people can touch.

Nobody should ever tell you you’re worthless because of your weight and your physical appearance. And if they ever do, then they’re the ones who should apologize, not you.

Nobody has the right to mistreat you, abuse you, or use your own body against you.

As for me...my ribs don’t hurt anymore. Nor does my back or my feet, and my breathing is getting better; I took the conscious decision to lose weight but, like I said, now that I’m not in such a dark place, I’m staring to realize that the past me wasn’t as hideous as my mind was making me believe. She was okay; she was broken inside, but she didn’t deserve anything that happened to her, nor did she deserved to treat herself that badly.

I posted my photo just to celebrate that I can finally said I’m not disgusted anymore. I can finally see myself in pictures again. And see my own reflection. Or go through my closet. Or do my makeup, because I LOVE doing my makeup and I was even ashamed of that. I’m not fully okay yet, but I’m healing.

So, if there’s any little Dawnie around here: I hope you give yourself a chance and realize you’re beautiful.

I hope that, if you change, it’s because you wanted to do it.

I hope you know that it’ll get better even if the healing process it’s not that easy.

I hope you know there’s people who love you.

I hope you know that you are beautiful. You were always beautiful and, no matter what path you choose, you’ll always be beautiful.

And worth it.

And human.

And important.

Take care of yourself, because you’re wonderful, no matter your size <3

#personal #VERY PERSONAL LMAO DAWN WHAT HAPPENED THERE U OK?#tw: eating disorders mention #TRIGGER WARNING EATING DISORDER MENTIONS #tw: depression #TRIGGER WARNING DEPRESSION #face reveal #and im gonna tag this bc yes #renegades trilogy #marissa meyer #renegades #archenemies #supernova #also TW: BULLYING

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ackerslut · 4 years

Note

Hey!! Could you write something shippy about Boimler and Mariner? What if Boimler regularly spent time in the holodeck acting out certain scenarios and situations with Mariner? 👀

A/N: This was way angstier than I meant it to be. And way less sexier. I apologize in advance.

ao3

She glares at him, mouth pressed into a thin line. “What happened to having each other’s backs? I put my ass on the line for you. Repeatedly.”

He winces. This conversation is not going how he’d planned. “Mariner, I-”

Mariner clenches her fists and straightens. “No, you don’t get to say anything after what you pulled. Fuck you.”

The image freezes and Boimler resets the simulation.

What seems like years ago, he remembers lecturing Tendi overusing the Holodecks for fun. The details are fuzzy. It was before the “GUYS I MADE US INTO A MOVIE'' incident with Mariner, but after that weirdass thing with Rutherford and his rogue program. He thinks she and Mariner had been using it to watch Ransom in an array of—what he now admits-hysterical situations—but can’t be sure.

She and Mariner have gotten up to so much shit, he can’t keep track.

He doesn’t know why he’s remembering it now. It was a random conversation that happened a long time ago—a few months after Tendi was assigned to the Cerritos? –so there’s no reason why he should be thinking about it right now.

Liar, a smug voice intones in his head. It sounds vaguely like Mariner. Boimler aggressively shoves it down.

This isn’t for fun, he anxiously tells the voice in his head. The voice is quiet. It does nothing to soothe the turning of his stomach.

It’s been three months since Boimler requested a transfer back to the Cerritos. Three months since he’d run into Rutherford and Tendi on shore leave and the three of them got swept up into a ridiculous, interplanetary civil war that took three different starship crews to settle out. Three months since he’d almost died more times than he can count on all his fingers and toes, three months since he thought Tendi had died, miles away from her home, on a world which would never remember her name, three months since Mariner swept in and fixed everything.

It’s been three months.

Not that he’s counting.

Somewhere between being in a remote alien prison with Tendi and hiking for a month in a perpetually dark wilderness with Rutherford, Boimler had come to the belated conclusion that his career didn’t take precedence over his friends.

(Also, if he’s being completely honest, he missed the chaos of being a lower deck ensign. Not that he still doesn’t want to be in the upper ranks. Just not without his dumb, dumb friends.)

After it was all over—and he’d realized that Tendi was alive—he put in his transfer request, surprising all his peers.

“This just isn’t a good fit for me,” was his official statement.

Captain Riker gave him a bland look. “You worked with Beckett, didn’t you.” His voice was flat, but his eyes were amused.

“Is it that obvious?”

“She rubs off on people. Don’t let her give you a hard time,” he added, signing off on the request. “It was nice working with you, Boimler. If you ever need anything, let me know.”

And so here he is, a newly minted ensign again, on the lower decks of the Cerritos.

(Captain Freeman is thrilled. “All operations have been down by 18% since you left. Good to have you back, Boimler.”)

Tendi and Rutherford seem hyped to have him back-Tendi especially, who’s been a little clingy with everyone since her near-death experience-but are acting uncharacteristically nervous around him. This isn’t a surprise. The tension between him and Mariner when she’d shown up on Roxadt II was insane and was only getting worse with every day. It’s been six weeks since he’d transferred, and she’s found a reason to be in a different room for all six of them.

Hence the simulations.

That makes absolutely no fucking sense, the Mariner-esque voice in his head sneers. Just talk to her you fucking wimp.

Boimler ignores it.

“Scenario A-187,” the clinical voice of the simulation intones. The simulation restarts.

It goes exactly the same way 186 other scenarios had gone. He corners Mariner. She stays quiet. He apologizes. She explodes.

Mariner’s anger had always burnt red hot. He’d first experienced it when an ensign got a little frisky with Tendi after she’d repeatedly told him no. Mariner’s fury at the situation felt justified. Vindicated. The ensign had been demoted so hard, Boimler was certain they’d seen the last of him for like. Well, forever. At the time he’d been astonished that she’d managed to pull it off, but after finding out about her familial connection to the Captain, it made sense.

He’d seen a glimpse of that anger a few more times—when Captain Freeman had forced her to go to therapy, after Rutherford had been captured by rogue Klingons, that one-time Ransom tried to promote her. But never toward Boimler.

Oh, she’d get irritated with him. “Loosen up, Boimler, it’s not that bad.”

“Look, the worst that’ll happen is that we get a note to file-stop yelling!”

“Dude if you don’t chill the fuck out I might actually throw you out of an airlock.”

Standard Mariner reactions, right? Yeah, she’d been pretty pissed when he took the promotion (his voicemail had been blowing up for the first 48 hours after he transferred), but it had died down fairly quickly so he had logically assumed that she had gotten over it.

He assumed wrong. If her icing him out was to be taken into account. So here he was, six weeks in, desperate and stressed from his friend’s apparent dismissal. The obvious solution, his sleep deprived brain decided, was to simulate a conversation with her using his high-tech program on the holodeck.

This may have not been the best idea. But he’s calculated the probability of anything going wrong and it’s under 3%, so he’s almost guaranteed success.

(So, of course, it blows up in his face, in true Boimler fashion.)

“Okay, I have a pretty high threshold for weird, but this might take the cake,” a voice slowly says.

Boimler startles. Whirls around. Shuts down the simulation. “Ohhh shit-”

“Yeah shit,” Mariner says, stalking into the room. “What the hell, dude?”

“This isn’t what it looks like!” Boimler sputters out, panicked. The simulation is shut down, leaving them in the empty holodeck room, but the echoes of Holo-Mariner’s rage still resonate between them. Actual Mariner is staring at him, face somewhere between completely shocked and furious.

“Did you use your dumbass hyper realistic program to simulate a situation with me so that you could cheat later?”

“I mean, kinda?”

“Then it’s exactly what it looks like!” Mariner slaps a palm over her eyes.

“Well what was I supposed to do?”

“I don’t know—maybe talk to me like a person? Not use your creepy, hyper realistic simulations to roleplay it?” She drops her hand and glares up at him.

Boimler rolls his eyes. “You literally created a simulation to kill the entire crew because your mom made you go to therapy.”

“Yeah and it fucking worked.”

“Then why are you yelling at me?!”

“I’m not!” she shrieks. “I’m very calmly telling you to fucking talk to me next time!”

“There’s not going to be a next time!”

Mariner stops, mouth open. “What?”

“Look, I get it. I fucked up and you apparently don’t do second chances! I was trying to make things right but clearly it isn’t working. I’ll stay out of your way now.”

Instead of pacifying her, this seems to make Mariner even more furious. “You fucking asshole. what am I supposed to say to that?” she shouts, stomping up to him.

He groans in exasperation. “Apparently nothing, considering you don’t want to talk to me!”

Her hands grab his collar, pulling him down to eye level with her. “I literally just said to talk to me next time!”

“And how was I supposed to do that if you’re avoiding me?”

“You’re the one who fucked off in the Titan to god-knows-where,” Mariner grits out.

So they’re actually doing this. Boimler swallows hard. Takes a breath. Tries to quell the anxiety welling in his gut. “I’m sorry.”

“Right after you said you didn’t care about rank or shit,” she adds, twisting the knife.

“Yeah. It was really shitty of me.”

“And then you ghosted me for like six months.”

Boimler winced. “Yeah—I. Yeah.”

Mariner’s iron grip on his shirt loosens, but she doesn’t let go completely. “That was really shitty of you.”

Not sure what to say, beyond apologizing again, Boimler gives a jerky nod.

“You came back.” She stares at him, eyes unfathomable. “The Titan wasn’t everything you dreamed it would be.”

It’s not a question.

Boimler still has an answer, though. “It was.”

She stiffens. He pushes forward, intent on getting this out while he still has her attention. “It was everything I wanted in a career. I was doing what I wanted, everyone took me seriously. Our missions came straight from the Admiralty and they treated us like we weren’t a joke. I loved it.”

“Then why are you here?”

“Because I care more about my friends then I do about people taking me seriously.”

Mariner freezes and then lets out a strangled laugh. “Now I think you’re the simulation. Who are you and what have you done with Boimler?” She pokes at his cheek.

He grins. And then falters. “For what it’s worth—and I know it’s not worth much—but. I am sorry. I wasn’t a very good friend.”

“Yeah you weren’t.” She lets go of her grip on his shirt completely and draws back. “You said you were my best friend and then you left. For Riker.”

“That makes me sound like the love interest in a cheesy drama. And like I’m hooking up with Riker.”

“I said what I said.”

Boimler laughs. It feels real for the first time in a long while. “Are we good?”

“No.” Mariner smiles. “I’m going to give you so much shit and you’re gonna grovel for like months and then I’m going to tell my mom that you used to holodeck to simulate certain situations with me.”

“If you do that I’m transferring back,” Boimler tells her. “Your mom finally likes me; I don’t need her ejecting me out of an airlock.”

“She wouldn’t do that.” Mariner waves him off.

“She totally would.”

“Yeah, she totally would,” she agrees. Grabs his arm and begins dragging him out of the holodeck. “So maybe I won’t tell her. I am telling Tendi though and she’s gonna give you so much shit considering you reemed her out over misusing the holodeck.”

Boimler makes a face. “I’ll probably let her too. I’m such a hypocrite.”

“You are, but it’s super weird to hear you be honest about it. Stop being all apologetic, it’s weird.”

They’ve reached the corridor. Mariner steers them in the direction of the bar. “Only if you promise to deck me if I ever make a dumb decision like that again,” he says, giving in and allowing himself to be manhandled. It’s the least he owes her.

“Deal. And the next time you use your weird, hyper realistic simulator—which doesn’t even fucking work by the way, I’m not that much of a bitch—you gotta promise you’ll use it for sexy reason only.”

“Sexy reasons only,” Boimler deadpans. “You know they log everything we do down there.”

Mariner wiggles her eyebrows up and down. “I know.”

“You’re disgusting.”

“And you’re uptight, but you’re the one who was playing with simulations of me.”

“That sounds way worse than it actually is,” he cringes.

“No, it doesn’t. I would take some sexy action over your sad, sad trauma simulations any day. Next time I catch you, you’d better be having fun with it.”

“Mariner, what the fuck—”

They dissolve into good natured bickering. She says something lewd and he rolls his eyes and elbows her and she squawks in protest and threatens to get him thrown in the brig. It’s normal, but it’s also not. There’s something new in the air between them that wasn’t there before. Tension, but not negative. It’s charged with. Something else.

Boimler doesn’t examine it too closely. Better to let it work itself out naturally. After all, he has all the time in the world now.

#star trek lower decks #marinler #beckett mariner #brad boimler #fanfiction #my fanfiction #lower decks #star trek lower decks fanfic #prompts #lofi writes

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chlorue · 4 years

Text

here’s to never growing up

a little shameless fic to sooth your troubles.

Pairing: Ian Gallagher/Mickey Milkovich

Description: It was finally Franny's fifth birthday. What did Ian do? Spent two weeks planning it. The party is full of disapproving PTA moms and a new friend for Ian. Ian had spent weeks planning this party and he was damn well sure it was going to turn out well.

word count: 2,814

read on ao3

The sun was bright today. The rays shining on the Gallagher backyard. Ian was frantically running around the backyard making sure everything was in line for his niece's 5th birthday. The entire backyard was decked out in whatever leftover party decorations Ian could find in the basement. Small party tables with fun tablecloths were placed around. Balloons were everywhere. Ian found a pile of streamers in Carl's room and placed them on the stairs and tables. There was no necessary theme to the party, it was just Ian felt obligated to go all out. He had Lip get the cake, Liam to get the other food, Carl to get party favors that weren’t weed, and Mickey to keep Franny and Debbie away from the house. So far everything was looking up.

Ian was sitting on the steps looking at his phone waiting for someone to text him that something was wrong. He would look at his phone lock screen every few seconds, see nothing there, and put back down next to him. Finally his phone dinged. He rushed to pick it up. It was from a small group chat he put together.

the one who sold weed once

hey are we serving alcohol at this party????

the one with a son

Nah, half of us can’t even drink, recovering alcoholic and the lithium thing

the smart one

What about all the PTA moms?

the one with a son

They’ll just have to get over it.

Okay, can you all shut up? This is a five year olds party, we’ll be drinking the soda Liam

gets.

It seemed everyone got the message because they stopped texting. Ian sighed and leaned back. He tried to drown out the sound of buzz on the streets. Luckily Frank was nowhere to be found, he hadn’t been for the past few days. Something shocked Ian out of his small trance. There were voices that were familiar coming down the street. Ian stood up to see Tami with Fred on her and Lip a few paces behind her with a white box in his hands.

“Hey fuckwad!” Lip called when he spotted Ian. Tami swatted him, most likely for the language. “Sorry.” Lip apologized. Lip set the box on a table and pulled his little brother into a hug. Ian pulled away and patted Fred on the head.

“Thanks so much for getting this, you two are amazing!” Ian opened the box to see a rectangular pink cake that had swirly white writing. Happy Birthday Franny! It was perfect and Ian let a small weight off his shoulders.

“Eh, you just owe us for Fred’s 5th birthday.” Tami patted her son's head.

“I can do that.” Ian sighed and smiled. They both looked to be doing better. He had heard about the fight they got into at his wedding and was glad to see them back together. Lip had sent him too many pictures of the house and Fred.

The back door swung open, startling all three of them, revealing Carl and Liam. “What’s up whores!” Carl yelled. Lip, Tami, Ian, and Liam collectively sighed.

“We really need to have a talk about language in this family.” Tami sighed. Ian nodded and took a seat at the table. Liam and Carl made their way down with a lot of bags.

They set them on the table just in time for Mickey to stroll in. Liam started pulling bags of chips out and Lip told him where to put it. “Carl, are you just gonna stand there?” Ian cocked an eyebrow.

“What do you mean?” Carl asked and Ian groaned. Lip saw his brother's stress and took Carl away from the table. Tami took Liam and the rest of the bags away from the poor man.

Another presence slipped into the chair next to him and kissed his head. Mickey. Ian pulled his head up to see his husband. He smiled for a second before realizing. “What are you doing here?”

“Uh, comforting my stressed out husband?” Mickey smiled.

“Where is Franny? And Debbie?” Ian looked frantically around the backyard. The party wasn’t really a surprise. Ian had asked Debbie two weeks ago if he could plan it, but Ian didn’t expect to really take over his life. He really wanted to be special for the little girl. “You were supposed to be keeping them occupied!” He groaned.

“Calm down hotstuff, did you happen to look at the time?” Mickey cupped Ian’s face and made him face Mickey. Ian was confused, mad and shocked all at the same time. Once Mickey let him out of his hold Ian pulled his phone from his back pocket. The time read 1:45. The party was starting in 15 minutes.

“Fuck.” Ian sighed. Ian had been so focused on things going wrong he must’ve lost track of time. “I’m sorry, I’m just really stressed. I want her to like this.” Ian pulled his hands down his face and faced his husband.

“Dude, she’s 5, she got excited by my name tag yesterday, I think this will fill her to the brim with joy.” Mickey rubbed his shoulder. Ian felt better knowing Mickey was next to him. “Jesus you are tense.”

“Hey Ian!” Tami’s voice broke through the small silence. “People are arriving!”

“Let them in.” He called behind him. Tami gave a thumbs and went back inside. “Well, our backyard is about to be filled with every mom and her kid from Franny’s school, you ready?” Ian asked.

“Jesus, ready for the dirty looks at my hands? I’m used to it by now, so I guess.” Mickey kissed Ian’s cheek before getting up. “Just, uh, holler if you need help. Please don’t put any more stress on yourself.” Mickey smiled before stomping up the stairs. He was met with the first kid and mom. The mom smiled at him and he smiled back before moving into the house.

Ian sighed and got out of his chair. “Ian! So nice to see you!” The mom smiled as she approached Ian.

“Mary!” Ian faked a smile. Mary Lynn was a god damn bitch. She never liked Mickey or Ian. She would pretend to be nice to them and Franny only to go over to the other mom’s to talk about how horrible they were. Ian pretended not to care, but sometimes he would rant to Mickey about how much he wanted to punch her. “You look great!” No she didn’t. Ian was resisting the urge to pull her fake blonde hair off her head.

"Chelsea here is so excited to hang out with Franny! I can’t believe she’s turning five, they grow up so fast!” She gave the fakest laugh Ian had ever heard. Ian returned it.

“Yeah, we’re excited too!” Ian wanted so badly for this conversation to be over. “You can go ahead and find a seat, Franny will be out soon.” Ian gave one last fake smile and pulled his hand from her grip. He walked in the back door only to be met with six more PTA moms.

Today was gonna be a long day.

The party was in full swing now. Franny was running around and playing with her friends while their mothers sat at tables talking. Ian was leaning against the chain-link fence watching his niece run around with a big ass smile on her face.

Another presence took its place next to Ian. He turned to see the dark red hair of his little sister. “Hey, you really didn't have to do this, you know?” Debbie smiled.

“Eh, I didn’t have anything else to occupy my time,” Ian smiled and took a drink from his cup. Debbie patted his shoulder and sighed. “You know, you might want to mingle with the moms over there.”

“Oh, god no. I’d rather not inhale the cheap perfume up close.” Debbie laughed.

“Well them maybe you should go hang out with your daughter, I’m gonna head inside, see what other shit Carl has to drink.” Ian patted his sisters head before walking away. He made his way into the Gallagher kitchen to see the rest of the family scattered through. Liam was plastered by the punch bowls, Lip was by the pack and play with Fred, Carl was sitting on the table, and Mickey was leaning next to the fridge.

“Welcome back,” Carl said, not even looking up from his phone. “Drinks and food are over there, we will be serving cake in 40 minutes.” He deadpanned.

Ian pushed his head, forcing Carl to look up and smile. “Oh, hey man!”

Ian smiled and went over to the counter area, not before throwing his cup away. “Hey, are Kev and V coming?” He leaned over to Liam. He invited the neighbors not only because they were some of his best friends and they loved Franny, but for moral support and help as well.

“Yeah, they just had to close up the Alibi.” Liam sighed and continued to stir the punch. Ian ran his hair through his hair. Then a knock came from the door. “That must be them.” Liam said and turned around.

He was right. Veronica and Kevin were strolling in with Amy and Gemma racing in front of them. “What is up to my favorite people in the world!” Veronica exclaimed as she strutted into the kitchen. Kev waved to everyone, but his attention was clearly on the very eager girls who wanted to get outside and see their friends. “God, it has been way too long!"

“You were two nights ago.” Mickey said. Mickey was now over by the Pac-And-Play with Tami. V shushed and he went back to playing with Fred.

“So Ian, how are you holdin’ up. I know PTA moms can be a handful.” V sighed and placed herself next to Ian.

“I think I’ll be fine with you and Kev here. I texted Fiona earlier for a pep talk.”

“Damn Fi, she always gave some sort of pep talk, shitty or not. They fuckin’ worked.” V sighed and laughed.

“God, can parents please name their children something fucking normal. I swear I literally just met a kid named Neptune.” Lip groaned as he swung open the door. “Also Ian, some people want to talk to you.”

Ian groaned. V gave his hand a squeeze and he took a deep breath. Time to venture back into the unknown.

Ian had been outside for about an hour. Turns out what the mothers wanted to talk to him about was alcohol. Whether he was serving it? Where was it stored in the house with the kids? Ian finally got away from it all. He was sitting in a lawn chair in the shade watching Mickey play with Franny.

“Hey do you mind if I sit?” Ian looked up to see a mom he had never really seen before. She was tall and had blonde hair, like most of them. But this blonde looked real. It was in a high ponytail. Her eyes were blue and her makeup was pretty and subtle. She wore a pink bomber jacket, white undershirt and gray pants.

“Oh, yeah sure, go ahead.” Ian smiled and pointed to the chair next to him.

“Thanks, I was getting tired of listening to Jennifer go on about her failing marriage, and you looked lonely.” The woman smiled.

“Did she tell you the reason it’s failing?”

“No, what is it? Something juicy?”

“Nah, he won’t let her drink more than three tequila shots.”

“That doesn’t seem that bad.”

“ A night. ” Ian smirked and the woman laughed. “I’m Ian by the way.” He held his hand out.

“Amara.” She shook his hand. “This is a really nice party, did you plan it all by yourself?”

“Eh, only a little bit. It’s not like it took up my life for about two weeks.” Ian smiled. Amara laughed. She seemed different from the rest of the moms there. She was fit, like really fit, she seemed a tiny bit dorky, but she was nicer than any of the other moms.

“Tell me about it. When my son turned 4 we held this “small” gathering that ended up turning into a whole block party!” Amara laughed.

“Wow, I feel like that happened when I was like 12. Gallaghers knew and know how to party.” Ian smiled.

“You haven’t seen the chaos that is my company.” Amara smiled. “I’m surprised you aren’t serving alcohol today, PTA moms and all.”

“Oh, basically none of us in this family can drink anymore, other than my little brother and my deadbeat father.” Ian sighed. “My older brother and sister are recovering alcoholics and I can’t drink on my meds. It fucks with my lithium.” Ian takes a swig of the Pepsi in his hands.

“Oh, that sucks. But that’s the South Side for you.” Amara sighed. “My wife and I may have moved to the North Side, but we won't forget the weirdos here.”

“Wait, you’re gay? And South Side?” Ian was now even more interested in this Amara. She was gay. No wonder she was so different then the rest of the moms. And she was raised on the south side. She definitely did not look like it.

“Oh, hell yeah! Most of my company is a part of the LGBT community. And yes, born and raised in a foster home here. That is how I met my wife, Callie. She’s over there playing with our son.” She pointed to a woman with dark skin and brown pixie cut. She was playing with a small boy who looked to be about the same age as Fran.

“Very pretty. My husband and I are born and raised as well. In and out of foster and group homes, though.” Ian smiled.

“You’re gay? No wonder the moms despise and love you.” Amara laughed. “Who’s your husband?”

“Him.” He pointed to Mickey who was now swinging Franny around.

“Oh, is he the one the moms are mad at because of his tattoos?” Amara asked and Ian nodded. “I bet they’re fucking dope, my friend did one of my favorite tattoos.” She pulled her sleeve to expose her wrist. On it was what looked like a heart, but it looked like it belonged to a robot. “I have two more, but they’re on my back.”

“I only have two. One is a military thing, and the other is a set of boobs.” Ian sighed at the memory of the failed tattoo.

“Dope!” Amara beamed and they both laughed. “But why boobs?”

“It was supposed to be a memory of my mother, but it went wrong.” Ian smiled.

“Does your husband have any others, other than the knuckle tats?”

“He has one on his forearm, long story. And my name above his heart.” Ian looked back over at his husband. He was laughing and dancing with Franny. Amara cooed and smiled. “Yeah, he did spell my last name wrong.” He looked over to Amara. She sighed and hung her head back.

Suddenly Franny was in front of them. “Uncle Ian! Let’s do the cake. Pwease?” She gave Ina her best puppy dog eyes. Ian laughed and stood up, hoisting her up.

“You comin?” Ian looked at Amara. She smiled and hoisted herself up, tightening her ponytail.

Everything had settled down by 9 PM. Franny was asleep, Lip and Tami left, Liam was downstairs watching TV and Carl was doing who the fuck knows in his room. Ian came into the room from the bathroom to see his husband leaning against the headboard scrolling on his phone. “Well you are a sight for sore eyes.” Ian said leaning against the doorway. Mickey shot his finger up and Ian laughed. He crawled onto the bed and rested himself right next to Mickey.

“Hey, who were you talking to today? The blonde chick?” Mickey started to play with Ian’s hair.

“Don’t get jealous, she has a wife. And her name is Amara, and she is one of the most cool PTA moms I have ever met. She’s South Side too, her and her wife.” Ian smiled at his husband. Mickey looked slightly amused.

“You know, it was really amazing that you did this for Franny, lord know both of us didn’t get the luxury of this.” Mickey sighed.

“Fiona tried her hardest, but I got sick on my 5th birthday.”

“When are you not sick, honestly?” Ian laughed at Mickey’s comment. Mickey smelled nice. A mix of cigarette smoke and soap. It was a smell that reminded Ian of where his home was. He wanted to move out and get a cat and kid with Mickey, but that was a problem for future Mickey and Ian. Ian was focused on Mickey, not realizing that he was slowly falling asleep. He drifted off, but not before pulling Mickey down with him.

“Thank you.”

#shameless #shameless fic #shameless us #gallavich #ian gallagher #mickey milkovich #my fic #my wriitng #all mistakes are my own #mickey and ian #amara and callie may or may not be based off adora and catra

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marauders-groupie · 4 years

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Bellarke AUs I was going to write

I'm clearing out my notes and gDocs. It's a process. 😂 Also, damn, my brainstorming and notes are weird as fuck.

I'm on the fence about these, but it's very cathartic to let them out in the wild:

Songfic: The National - Rylan (Clarke is an unhappy rich girl and Bellamy cures her January blues)

Songfic: Dorothy - Dark Nights ("with blood on his hands and truth on his face")

Logan Lucky AU with the Blakes as the family with shitty luck and a heist plot

Romeo + Juliet AU with a happy ending (inspired by Halsey's HFK)

Songfic: Lady GaGa - You and I + Miley Cyrus - Nothing Breaks Like a Heart (fucking on pool tables in Tennessee aesthetic probably)

Songfic: Jets - Are You Gonna Be My Girl

Songfic: Carrie Underwood - Jesus Take the Wheel (lbr Clarke driving home for Christmas w/ Madi, gets stuck in snow, is found by her childhood crush, Bellamy, faith and love and new beginnings, building a humble life from messes)

Peaky Blinders Au: Red Right Hand

- rival gangs that have to work together

- Clarke Griffin is a lady mobster, wearing fur coats and jewelry, and Bellamy despises her - thinks she doesn't have the guts to do what it takes

- She's cold and calculating

- He, on the other hand, would drive straight into hell for the people he loves - his sister, his mom, and his boys

- They've been running a small time protection operation until Wallace got mixed in and started operating on their territory

Sunshine State Plate

i need my girl au (clarke is volatile) + bellamy goes soul searching Drops of Jupiter + "live on coffee and flowers" + "i love you. i want us both to eat well" + sunshine state plate idea + love and mutual pining across decades + growth + a simple life + clarke is the one who stays behind this time + Good Grief by Bastille

Clarke is frizzy haired, Bellamy needs her and her car, he remembers her as a stubborn kid but she's grown up now. Roadtrip AU. Title inspo: she has Florida plate (US plates are so colorful) Feel good fic

"the last poem i ever write will be the taste of mint toothpaste, morning, orange juice. it will be all orgasms everywhere that saved us, no matter what the preachers say. it will be clumsy laughter and muscles that hurt in the morning and joy so thick you could eat it like a cake. it will be the day i watched water dry on my skin. the hearts we've broken because we were clumsy. the last poem i ever write will be a spectacle, fuck fourth of july and come see this burn. it will call out all the people i love and say what makes them beautiful."

Bellamy Blake remembers three versions of Clarke Griffin:

1)Frizzy-haired, gap-toothed girl who wasn't afraid of getting her pretty white overalls dirty to prove to him that she could climb the tree in his garden faster. Without falling.

2) The girl who drove her car into that same garden on the eve of her eighteenth birthday. Put it into park, got out and said she was sorry to the vines. He found her like that, clutching at them with scratched, desperate hands as she repeated I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm-

3) The woman in front of him.

It's Not the Waking, It's the Rising series

- they stop the s4 apocalypse from happening in the last moment and clarke leaves again

- her hair had gone white in a day

- she returns, only to find out that bellamy and the delinquents broke away from camp jaha and started their own camp

- (everyone in the ark station stares at windows for the longest time; surprised it's earth outside, and not the black space)

- the second part is smut and deals with them seeking forgiveness in human ways

Crackfic idea? DONE, read here

Post-Matryoshka, Bellamy gets pissed off that he almost lost her again and puts a stop to everything:

"I'm not losing you ever again," he says, serious. The look in his eyes leaves no room for discussion.

He makes everyone shut up and stop.

"This ends now."

Clarke is scared, has no idea what's happening, and then Bellamy gets down on one knee.

"We're getting married," he tells Clarke. "I've had it with this shit."

#whoo it feels good to clear this out of my notes #anyway i am sorry it's a mess #bellarke au #bellarke #bellarke fanfic #lana talks fic

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peculiar-sunshine · 4 years

Text

Forgetting How To Feel (Sodapop Curtis x Reader)

UPDATE: I wrote a second part to this. Click here to read it!

Greetings, friends!

I had fun writing the Dallas Winston fic the other day, so I decided to try my hand at writing one about my husband, Sodapop Curtis (swoon ). But my problematic ass seems to only be able to write depressing fanfics. 😅😅😅 So here ya go, please enjoy this shitty story, and if you like it enough to want me to do a Part 2, I definitely will!

TRIGGER WARNING: strong language and mention of alcohol usage

“Soda,” you sobbed, “I don’t…I don’t understand. Why are you breaking up with me?”

You hadn’t been dating Sodapop Curtis for very long, only about a month or so. But you two had been best friends since the day you met, practically super-glued to each other’s hip. You and him had spent many days together causing mischief in the streets of Tulsa, and many nights climbing up on the roof of your house and gazing at the stars while talking about cars, sex, Elvis, childhood, heartache, and everything in between. Soda was your partner in crime, the peanut butter to your jelly, the missing puzzle piece to your jigsaw puzzle that you had finally found under the couch and could now feel complete with. It was only a matter of time before you fell hopelessly in love with him. But then along came Sandy.

Sodapop never believed in ignoring his friends on behalf of romantic relations, so you and him continued to be best buddies even after he asked Sandy to be his girl. He would often bring you along whenever he took Sandy on outings, and likewise brought Sandy along on his adventures with you. You liked Sandy okay, she was a nice girl and seemed to be good to Soda, but you couldn’t help but feel your heart burst into pieces every time he put his arm around her shoulder or gave her a kiss on the cheek.

But then the Dear John letter came, and the next thing you guys knew, Sandy was whisked away to Florida, taking every last bit of Soda’s heart with her and leaving behind the catastrophic mess for you to pick up.

For the first few months, you did everything in your power to keep Soda’s mind off of her, often to no avail. You took him to the movies, but every actress in the film reminded him of Sandy in some way. You tried to teach him how to cook, but it only made him think of the times in which Sandy would bake chocolate cake for him. Even when you made him help you study for your tests in school, solving the math equations in your textbook somehow managed to stir up her memory. But as time went on, the bewitching blonde bitch seemed to fade from his mind and things slowly returned to the way they used to be.

They didn’t stay that way for long, however, as Sodapop began to get a funny feeling in the pit of his stomach every time he heard your laugh or saw your smile. He couldn’t explain it, he spent nearly every moment of every day with you, yet he felt an unbearable ache in his heart when you were away from him. He never felt this way with Sandy, or with any girl he’d been with. He decided that the best thing to do was to ask you on a date to The Dingo, where you two spent the evening talking and laughing and dancing and having a fantastic time. He felt high in the sky on Cloud Nine, and on the walk home later that night, he stopped you in the middle of the sidewalk, pulled you close to him, and gently kissed you. And the rest way history.

But now here you were, standing on his front porch with tears threatening to spill from your eyes as the boy you loved tore your heart to shreds.

“I’m so sorry, Y/N, but I…I don’t think this is working out.” Soda said, nervously scratching the back of his head.

“What the hell do you mean it’s ‘not working out?’ We’ve been so happy together, haven’t we?”

He didn’t answer. All he could do was shove his hands in his pockets and stare at the ground.

“H-Haven’t we?” you asked again.

“…Look, Y/N, you’re amazing in every way, but the thing is, well, I think I’m…still in love with Sandy.”

You were absolutely stunned.

“And it’s not that I don’t love you or anything, you’re such a good friend and you’ve been nothing but nice to me and all, but I don’t wanna lead you on like this when I love someone else…”

All the muscles in your body seemed to contract and keep you frozen, absolutely still, in the spot you were standing in. The tears were now falling down your cheeks, but you couldn’t even move your hand to wipe them. You wanted to pour your heart out to him, but your tongue felt like a lead weight in your mouth. You felt like you had just lost the ability to breathe.

“Y/N? Please say something.”

Suddenly, you felt all the boiling-hot anger rise up in you. “Oh, I’ll tell you something alright.”

You vehemently drew your arm back and slapped him across the face.

“Fuck you, Sodapop Curtis. I don’t ever want to see your miserable fucking face again. You can go straight to hell and take your precious little slut with you.”

You turned around and leaped off the porch, raced across the yard and began to sprint down the sidewalk as far away from the Curtis house as you could possibly get. You could hear Soda calling after you, imploring you to come back, but you blocked him out. You had to or else you knew you would go back to him, sobbing and begging him to forgive you and take you back. But this was it. Things were over now. And you knew they could never go back to being the same. Not after the way he ripped your heart out from your chest and stomped all over it as though it were a filthy cockroach.

You didn’t want to think about it now. You didn’t want to think about anything right now. You just wanted to go somewhere and forget everything that had just happened. You wanted to forget every goddamn thought and feeling that pulsated through your head with every step you took. Turning the corner and running to the familiar green house, you knew exactly what you needed to do.

Two Bit couldn’t even try to hide the shocked look on his face when he opened the door and saw you standing there, red-faced and panting like a dog in heat.

“Y/N? What the hell is going on?” he asked, dumbfounded.

After catching your breath, you recounted the whole pathetic sob story to him, feeling the tears stinging your eyes again.

“Aw, honey, come here.” he said, wrapping his arms around you and squeezing you. You laid your head on his shoulder and bawled until you felt like your body couldn’t possibly produce any more tears.

“Two,” you said after you regained your composure, “you and me, let’s go get rip-roaring drunk. Right now. Whaddya say?”

“Get drunk? Y/N, you’ve never been drunk in your damn life!”

“So? There’s a first time for everything, ain’t there?”

“Well, yeah that’s true, but are you sure that’s what you wanna do?”

“Yes I’m sure. I wanna get so fucking drunk that I forget how to feel.”

“…Well…okay, but listen, you’re a lightweight, so you’re gonna have to take it slow, ya dig?”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever, Mom. Now let’s go down to the store and score us some beer. I think I got money.”

“No need to, baby, we can always use the five finger discount.”

You and Two Bit linked arms as you strolled over to his car, got in and drove away. Sodapop Curtis who?

#the outsiders #the outsiders fanfiction #sodapop curtis #s.e. hinton #two bit mathews #depression #break up #headcanon #sad #sob story #sandy

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earthseaborealis · 4 years

Text

New Traditions and Worlds

My @homestuckss gift for @dykeiatrist ! I used “Davekat,” “Jane,” and “Hurt/Comfort” (with a bit of DirkJake) to create a cute little holiday fic! Hope you enjoy it :D Have a wonderful holiday season!!

Also on ao3 (@detective_in_space if the link doesn’t work!)

“Twas the week before Christmas,” Dave started before pausing, “Yo Rox, what’s somethin’ that rhymes with Christmas?”

“Ass? Wait, no, no that doesn’t work… Christmas…” Roxy muttered, “Okay so, like, the only thing I’ve got is Christmas, but you absolutely cannot rhyme ‘Christmas’ with ‘Christmas,’ right?”

“You’re definitely right,” Dave sighed as he scratched out the words in his notebook, “Dude, like absolutely nothin’ rhymes with Christmas words.”

Roxy moved over and rested their hand on his shoulder, “Karkat will appreciate the thought at least. Hey, there are other things than Christmas raps, like festive interpretive dances! Or Festive slam poetry?”

“Well, duh, it’s Karkat we’re talkin’ bout,” Dave laughed, but in his defense, it was true. Karkat would yell and insist that he hated Dave’s most ‘ironic’ gifts, but there was a certain fondness in his tone. Like it was just a whole elaborate game. The edges of Karkat’s eyes would wrinkle as his lips curled into a small grin. A small chuckle would escape, which Dave would obviously point out, and in response, Karkat would punch him (before wrapping him in a hug). Oh god, that was the best…

“Hey sleeping beauty,” Roxy interrupted, as they lightly hit the side of Dave’s head, “Did ya invite me over here just to fall asleep?”

“Nah dawg, I was just thinkin’ about the usual,” Dave brushed their hand aside.

“So,” Roxy drawled, “Karkat?” Roxy wiggled their eyebrows at Dave.

“No,” Dave exclaimed, “Fuck, I mean, no. Hey, do ya know any, like, traditions that people do for Christmas and all that jazz.” Now that was a smooth change of topics.

“Smooth like a baby’s bottom,” Roxy laughed, “But, nah. I didn’t even know Christmas was like a real thing… thought it was an urban myth or something.” Oh, right. Roxy lived in some highly-futuristic society that was enslaved by a fish bitch, but there was none of that oppressive dictatorship on Earth C. Trolls, Carpacians, Humans, and well, any other species were free to chill by the fire and enjoy whatever holiday they wanted. Now that, was what sweet, sweet democracy was about (preach Obama).

“Lit, lovin’ that we’re both oblivious of any cultural traditions… hey, you think one of the Crocker-Harley-English… berts... would know more about this? I’m feelin’ like they’d be all up in that shit,” Dave said, “Oh fuck, I’m so smart. That’s like totally their thing.”

After quickly picking up all his stuff and saying goodbye to Roxy, Dave picked up his phone and dialed Jane Crocker, the holiday expert, on his way home. Wait, oh fuck, what if she was busy? It’s not like he usually talked to her, so was it out of the question? Oh no, maybe he should’ve just texted John...

The phone picked up, “Hello, Jane Crocker speaking?”

“Oh… oh! Hey Jane, it’s Dave… ya know… Dirk’s cooler bro,” Dave started. He shoved his hands into his hoodie pocket and kicked a stray pebble on the sidewalk. Yes, he could be floating around, but exercise was important.

“Well, howdy there Dave. It’s been a while since we’ve talked, hasn’t it,” she chuckled, “Anyways, did you need anything?”

“So, like, Rox and I were talkin’ about Christmas and stuff… and well, we’re both dumb and have no idea what people actually do for it, so I thought you might be the expert on the subject? Because it totally seems like it’d be up your ally,” Dave rambled on.

“Well golly, I’m flattered. It’s been a while since I’ve actually celebrated the holiday, but of course, I’ll help you! Before the game, my father and I had so much fun celebrating… let’s see… Well, I’m sure you already know this, but we’d go out to a farm together and pick out a tree. I’d always search for the fattest tree, and my father would help me cut it down. And then we’d go get Hot Cocoa and pick out ornaments together, and well, oh sorry, I’ve gotten a bit off-topic, haven’t I,” Jane apologized.

“No, no! You’re literally the best… lemme just get a piece of paper to write this on,” Dave fumbled around his captchalogue, and pulled out an old notebook (of course, with Obama on the cover). “Okay cool, I got one, hit me with all that sweet, sweet info.”

“Alright… let’s see, what else… oh, well after we decorated the tree, we’d make and frost sugar cookies and cakes together. Oh! Karkat and you are welcome to come over together sometime and make cookies with me if you’d like,” Jane offered. Hell yeah, she was a literal legend. Roxy and Dirk had the best friends.

“Yeah, dog, we’d love to! I’ll hit you up with a date once Karkat checks the calendar. You know him and… schedulin’,” Dave said as he continued to write down Jane’s suggestions.

Jane chuckled, “Sounds good… and one more thing… My father and I would always put cheesy Christmas music on. That was the best… we’d make absolute fools out of ourselves, but it was so much fun. Literally, we’d just dance around and belt the lyrics… those we’re the days,” Jane’s voice started to crack… fuck… had Dave made her cry? “Sorry…” she continued, “I don’t mean to be so emotional. Oh lord, I’m sorry. I… I hope I helped you a bit, and just, feel free to come over whenever for cookies…”

“Fuck, no,” Dave searched his brain… what would Karkat say… “Sorry for bringin’ up those memories. I know it sucks and all. I’ll give you some time and just hit you up later.”

“Yes, that’d be great… see you later then,” Jane said as she hung up.

Well, shit, Dave had already made one person cry and it was only 11 a.m. Maybe Christmas was just an emotional time and stuff. Jane was cool, though, so he hoped that she was okay. Plus, she gave him some kickass advice, and he was so ready to get his holiday spirit on.

The rest of the walk to his place was boring. Dave tried to come up with some more sick raps for his Christmas album, featuring the new and improved version of “Jingle Bells.” The air was crisp and way too cold for Dave’s Texan roots (he blamed John for the freezing wind), so he was thankful when he finally reached the door.

“Yo, Karkat, I’m home, and I come with words of wisdom from the one and only Jane Crocker herself,” Dave announced as he closed the door behind him. He attempted to throw his coat and hang it up, but it fell clumsily to the floor. He shrugged it off and continued through the cozy lil’ condo, finding his way into the kitchen, where he found Karkat doing a load of laundry. Yes, the washing machine and dryer were in the kitchen… it was only the most ironic, British mom location for them. Dave, being the coolest man to ever exist, ran up to Karkat and hugged him from behind.

“Jesus fucking shit Dave! Are you trying to give me a blood pusher attack?” Karkat screeched as he jumped like fifty feet in the air (okay maybe that was a bit of an exaggeration, but it basically happened).

“Nah dude, you wouldn’t dare be all anime protagonist on me and faint. Like, imagine me runnin’ to cradle you in my arms while you murmur ‘I’m goin’ to have to kawaii the shit out of your desu.’ Literally, imagine that” Dave rambled.

Karkat groaned at this, “Stop spending time with Dirk. You’re turning into a shitty weeb Karkat said as he pushed Dave away.

“I can’t help it… it’s who I am,” Dave clutched yo his chest and fell to the ground, pulling the other boy down with him. Karkat’s words. The worst weapon of all.

“I’m going to go live with Kanaya and Rose,” Karkat grumbled, falling to the ground as dramatically as possible (making sure to land on Dave with as much force as possible).

“Like you’d do that,” Dave scoffed, “She’s worse than me. Plus, is you did, we couldn’t be all romantic and celebrate human holidays together. C’mon dude, we gotta act like a high school couple. Get all up in each other’s space and kiss under the mistletoe. Oh, speakin’ of that! I talked to Jane, who is literally the best, and she was like ‘oh Dave! Check out this super lit tradition I did back on the o.g. Earth. Like, you get to cut down a tree and decorate with the most ironic ornaments.’”

“Sound detrimental to the environment and a waste of time. What’s the point of celebrating a fucking tree,” Karkat asked.

“Dude, it’s a pine tree, which is superior to all other trees. Besides, it’s about family and friends. I mean, I never celebrated Christmas with Bro, but you can’t just diss Karen like that,” Dave said, using his best white mom voice.

“Fine whatever. I’ll celebrate your dumb human holiday, but I call picking out the decorations,” Karkat bargained as he stood up and dusted off his pants (getting rid of Dave’s germs).

“Hell yeah, deal! Get your coat on, we’re gonna get a tree and bring it in our house,” Dave exclaimed, quickly getting off the ground.

The boys quickly got ready and we’re out the door, hopping into their car. Dave has gotten it because well, basically of all Karkat and his friends could fly. He has listened to Karkat’s complaining enough and invested in an older, used minivan. And man, did he love the thing. Hey, maybe he’d become a car person after the holidays were over.

Dave was about to drive to the nearest park with a saw, but Karkat demanded that he call and ask Jane first. Jane recommended a small farm in the middle of nowhere, and with the use of a GPS, they eventually found their way there (after a few hours of trial and error).

“Jane said that fat trees were better, but honestly, I’m lovin’ this tall ass one right here. I mean look at it. It’s taller than the Empire State Buildin’… wait, is that still a thing? Like an Earth C Empire State Buildin’?” In Dave’s defense, it was a totally valid question. Like, did Earth C have the same seven wonders of the world? Who knew.

“Shut the fuck up. We’re here for a tree, not imperialism,” Karkat groaned, “And besides, our house isn’t big enough for that.”

“But Karkat, the economy,” Dave whined, “But like, what about this tiny one… it reminds me of you, short stacks.”

Karkat shoved him, “And the other reminds me of your flat ass.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment… since you're lookin’ at my ass and all,” Dave pulled down his Stiller shades and winked.

“Shut up, you fucking twink. Let’s just celebrate your weird human holidays and get the tree,” Karkat grumbled as he attempted to pick up the tree.

Dave doubled over laughing as he watched the 5’3 troll struggle, but once Karkat shot him an angry glare, he rushed over to aid him (with his huge muscles, of course). “Nice, I can feel it pokin’ me through my mittens. Ten out of ten would recommend.”

After endless trial and error, the pair managed to carry the tree to the register and on top of their car, a red minivan that Dave had picked out.

“So,” Karkat started, “We just put a tree in our block and decorate it? And then some creepy old man flies around the world and gives presents to children by putting them under the tree?” His eyebrows furrowed as he attempted to understand human traditions.

“Dude, I can’t even explain it. Humans can come up with some weird shit when they put their minds to it,” Dave laughed. The rest of the car ride consisted of Karkat rambling about trollian traditions. Their hands managed to find one another and rest comfortably on the center console (Dave, of course, kept one hand on the steering wheel at all times… hey, safety is important).

Their next stop was the local hardware store. It was owned by a sweet, older Carpacian. In all honesty, she reminded Dave of the Mayor… a kindred spirit whose goal in life was to just lead and help make others happy. She made the place seem like the opposite of a place to buy tools. The place was decorated with festive garlands and cheery music rang through the air. Dave waved at her as the pair walked towards the Christmas section.

“So,” Dave drawled, “What kind of ornaments are we lookin’ for? Personally, I wanna find a dick shaped one… for the memories of cockscotch. Bless that game.”

“This is a family store, dick-muncher! And we’re getting triple-f ornaments! Family fucking friendly!” Karkat screeched, marching ahead (but not before grabbing Dave’s hand and pulling him along).

“Fine, fine, I get it… gotta make our house grub friendly, for when John comes over,” Dave snickered as they walked the ornaments aisle. Who knew there were so many different variations in fucking decorations? You had some for your Karens, poor college students, newlyweds, too many to count. Karkat busied himself with the… glass ball? Well, whatever that kind of ornament was called.

“These are nice,” Karkat noted, showing Dave a set of jade glass baubles (haha, like Kanaya).

“But like, dude, they’re so borin’,” Dave whined, “We gotta spruce this tree up… get it? Spruce is a kind of tree.” Dave chuckled at his own dad joke. Shit, he was hilarious.

“Hey, I’m just trying to make this actually look nice. We’ll get other colors too, and “spruce” it up, as you say,” Karkat said as he went back to check out the boring ornaments. Dave, on the other hand, went to look at the children’s ornaments on the other side of the aisle. Most of them were new pop culture things that Dave didn’t recognize (God was he growing old). However, there were a few that grabbed his attention, and obviously, he was gonna have to show these to Karkat.

“Yo, dawg. Check out these cool little fuckers. They’ll make our tree look mads cool,” Dave opened his hands to reveal a bunch of little crab ornaments. They were cute and not boring glass balls. Plus, crabs were like Karkat’s thing… he’d definitely appreciate them.

“Crustaceans? Don’t you just know the way to my blood pusher,” Karkat rolled his eyes, “Just put them in the basket before I change my mind.”

Dave threw his fist in the air and gave Karkat a side hug, “Hell yeah, you won’t regret this. We gonna get so festive up in this joint. All the moms will be beggin’ to check out the coolest tree in the neighborhood, which if ya didn’t catch on, will be ours.”

“You got me. I’m only doing this to make Carol jealous. She fucking deserves it,” Karkat chuckled. Yes, Dave knew he was doing swell when he made Karkat laugh. If only he could give himself a, well earned, golden star.

“Dude yes, I fuckin’ hate Carol. C’mon, let’s get more lights. We gotta make this flashy and blow a fuse, speakin’ of which… do you know how to fix a broken fuse? Because I do not wanna call Dirk over to fix it for us. He’ll be like ‘Dave, I’m just tryin’ to celebrate the holidays with my darlin’ boyfriend… have I mentioned Jake’s ass? Damn, lemme just rant about that and never actually fix your broken utilities.’ Can you imagine the pain, Karkat,” Dave lamented? He loved his brother, don’t get him wrong, but he did not want to mess with Dirk this close to the holiday season.

“I can, actually. Remember what happened the week before Jake’s birthday? Dirk is batshit crazy, but he gets it from you,” Karkat smirked as Dave feigned an offended expression, “Now, can we stop talking about his love life and actually pick out some decorations?”

The pair still had one more destination before they could go home and relax, maybe even decorate the tree… but knowing themselves, they’d probably wait until Christmas Eve to put the new lights and ornaments up.

“Oh my goodness, I’m so glad you two could make it,” Jane said as she opened the door, “I’ve already got everything out, so all we have to do is bake and decorate cookies… and perhaps eat a bit of dough.” She ushered the two inside.

“Hell yeah, you’re the best Janey,” Dave said as the pair put away their coats and walked to the kitchen with Jane. Everything was so clean, especially when compared to their house. Karkat would always fuss about his habits, but Dave felt a sort of comfort in the messiness. So what if there were shirts thrown on the floor and an unorganized stack of papers on the kitchen table. It built… character.

“I’ve never had what you humans call ‘cookies,’ but thank you for having us,” Karkat added.

“Oh please, it’s no problem. I love baking, and I especially love helping people get into the holiday spirit,” Jane said. The trio fell into a simple routine once Jane showed them the recipe, helping the two boys when need be. Dave filled the silence by rambling under his breath about whatever he deemed important, while Karkat concentrated on making his cookies perfect.

“Hey look,” Dave exclaimed while holding up one of his doughy creations, “It’s a Karkat angel! A Kar-Angel… a Karkat Van-Angel!” His cookies were shaped into gingerbread men with nubby horns and an uncharacteristic smile.

“And I made a Dave-Cookie… oh wait, it’s just a blob of dough, my fucking bad,” Karkat retorted, going back to rolling out his dough.

It was a long process, but after a few hours, the boys had successfully made their first batch of Christmas sugar cookies. A few of the cookies weren’t burnt on the edges, but they were delicious nonetheless. Jane demanded that the pair take home their creations, as she didn’t have enough room in her cabinets for more holiday desserts.

“Goodness, thank you so much for coming over and making sugar cookies! I haven’t had this much fun since… well, it’s been a while. Feel free to come by and help me whenever you all would like,” Jane chirped.

“Of course, Janey,” Dave replied, “You best bet we’ll be back for some more goodies! Gotta get my housewife on. I can’t be accidentally poisoning Karkat with some undercooked cake.”

“You’ve poisoned me with every meal of your’s, except the Kraft Mac and Cheese, but only because Roxy helped you,” Karkat spat.

“Oh well, we certainly can’t have that. I’ll be seeing you both again soon then. Have a Merry Christmas and a wonderful new year!”

It was dark by the time they were home. Karkat and Dave both felt the sleepiness enter the body, as they kept yawning. It was too late to decorate the tree, so it was leaned against a corner. The pair immediately plopped down onto the couch and put on a holiday classic, Tim Allen’s “The Santa Clause,” which Dave argued was the best Christmas movie known to mankind, trollkind, and carpaciankind alike.

“Y’know, I never imagined that I would celebrate Christmas. Like, dude, that shit was mads uncool,” Dave said out of the blue, interrupting the beautiful sound of Tim Allen interacting with CGI reindeers and kidnapped children.

Karkat groaned, “Well, me either, yet here I am, celebrating a dumb holiday for dumb human grubs.” He was just trying to enjoy this wonderful holiday film, but with Dave, silence didn’t last long. In a way, it provided comfort to the pair. He knew that Dave absolutely hated the silence, as it reminded him of his Bro. For Karkat, Dave’s endless rambling allowed him to take his mind off of his worries. It was an odd relationship, one that had taken years to achieve, but here they were… they had made it, yet Karkat knew there were still shaky moments for the two of them. Like now, for example. The pair both would jump around certain barriers, trying desperately to aid one another, while still attempting to not dig too deep.

Dave rested his head upon Karkat’s thighs and snuggled into the pile of blankets, reminding him of their time on the meteor, “Y’know, I wouldn’t have this whole thing any other way. ‘M glad my first Christmas is with you, instead of Bro.” His words are slurred together and slightly muffled, and Karkat can’t help the stupid ass blush that creeps onto his face at the sound of them.

“Fuck that guy,” Karkat spits. After a moment, he starts again, this time with a gentler tone, “And it’s nice to have you here too, no matter how fucking dumb your endless rants may be.”

Dave could almost hear Dirk whispering “Tsundere” in his ear as he chuckled, “Awe, love you too, KitKat.” He sits back up, nearly smacking the top of his head into Karkat’s jaw. He looks away for a second, briefly hesitating, then leans in, closing the distance between the pair. It’s just a brief peck, but it leaves the two of them speechless. Dave looks at Karkat through his shades. A light brush coated his cheeks and his lips curled into a small grin.

Karkat pulls Dave into his side and looks towards the corner of the living room, where their small, fat tree is leaning against the wall. It was empty and in desperate need of attention (aka Crustacean ornaments). Filled with a sudden burst of energy, he paused the movie and stood up, pulling Dave with him, “Get off your lazy ass and get fucking festive. We have a tree to decorate.”

#hsss2019 #homestuckss #dykeiatrist #homestuck #pesterquest #hiveswap #karkat vantas #dave strider #davekat #jane crocker

21 notes · View notes

thegayfromrulid · 4 years

Note

Frkm 1 allll the way to 99. Also, the next SAO game eugeo lives as a sword and not die (thank GOD)

@2. chocolate bars or lollipops?

Chocolate bars- I will not eat lollipops.

3. bubblegum or cotton candy?

Cotton candy! I actually get super bad headaches from bubblegum.

4. how did your elementary school teachers describe you?

Probably lonely genius...

5. do you prefer to drink soda from soda cans, soda bottles, plastic cups or glass cups?

Soda bottles!! I feel so fancy!! And old-timey.

6. pastel, boho, tomboy, preppy, goth, grunge, formal or sportswear?

I guess tomboy even though I’m a boy??

7. earbuds or headphones?

Aren’t these the same thing? I think I prefer over-ear headphones, but I don’t really like either.

8. movies or tv shows?

Depends on the genre I guess. But as a main rule, live action- movies, animated- TV shows.

9. favorite smell in the summer?

Potato salad.

10. game you were best at in p.e.?

Frankly, I wasn’t good, but I was really good at pissing all the jocks off-

11. what you have for breakfast on an average day?

I make myself these homemade egg mcmuffins. I enjoy them a lot. I am very picky about breakfast.

12. name of your favorite playlist?

I only have one and it’s very generic: The Gay From Rulid’s Playlist. Yes it’s on Spotify. Yes, it’s 99% anime openings and endings and maybe Bet On It from HSM2. Be ashamed of me. Go on.

13. lanyard or key ring?

Lanyard! Mine is a BNHA one I bought from an artist at Nekocon!

14. favorite non-chocolate candy?

Either Sweet Tarts or Nerds.

16. most comfortable position to sit in?

I usually have one leg tucked up under me and the other stretched out.

17. most frequently worn pair of shoes?

A black and white pair of Skechers. They look like shit. They almost never are replaced by another shoe. Not even in the gross muggy heat.

18. ideal weather?

When it’s just warm enough to wear a t-shirt and sit in the sunshine, but cool enough that I’m not hot, and a little breeze is going. I think of this weather quite often.

19. sleeping position?

On my belly kinda spread out like a shounen protagonist.

21. obsession from childhood?

J.R.R. Tolkien. Have always been obsessed with him and his works.

22. role model?

Redundant, but Tolkien again. Linguist and writer. Living my dream.

23. strange habits?

I unplug things like microwaves, lamps, and TVs when I am done using them. Very little remains plugged in at my place. The modem, the fridge, and the clock. That is it.

24. favorite crystal?

Amethyst. It’s my sister’s middle name. And I especially like the purple ones.

25. first song you remember hearing?

Blue by Eiffel 65. I don’t know why that song sticks out so much in my memory but it’s nostalgic for me. Tiny AJ hyperfixated on this song before anything else ya’ll.

26. favorite activity to do in warm weather?

Curl up in the sun on a blanket and nap.

27. favorite activity to do in cold weather?

Hot cocoa blanket cuddles.

28. five songs to describe you?

Uhhhh...I’m not very musically literate. Let’s go with Born This Way (the first person I came out to sent me that song so it feels special!), I’m Free to Be Me by Jamie Grace, Praying by Kesha, Shake It Off by Taylor Swift ( @delicateeuphorias would you believe it xD), and right now thinking about someone dear to me who’s been gone See You Again is stuck in my brain.

30. places that you find sacred?

Arboretums or big botanical gardens where I can get lost in the plants for a moment and take in how pretty they all are. And old monuments/big things people of the past built. A lot of things were built by people with no rights/freedom and I think about them and how despite the fact that they had nothing, they made such a lasting impact on our world.

31. what outfit do you wear to kick ass and take names?

*slips on my Owari no Seraph cosplay* I will kick ass in this sweet ass cape-

33. most used phrase in your phone?

My phone seems to think it’s “Kirito’s ass” and I want it to not think that.

34. advertisements you have stuck in your head?

O-O-O-O’REILLYYYYYYYYYY’S...Autooo PARTS.

35. average time you fall asleep?

I’m an insomniac it could be 10 pm it could be 3 am who knows I sleep for an hour I’m up again...

36. what is the first meme you remember ever seeing?

Fucking CAN I HAS CHEEZBURGR cats.

37. suitcase or duffel bag?

This all boils down to how much I’m packing. Going for a sleepover? Duffel. Going to con? My giant suitcase with room for all the bells and whistles of cosplay.

38. lemonade or tea?

Tea!

39. lemon cake or lemon meringue pie?

Oh cruel I looooove lemon. The pie!

40. weirdest thing to ever happen at your school?

In high school here- so, aside from me being the resident weirdo (I DID come to school dressed as the TARDIS), my senior class decided to squirt hundreds of bottles of chocolate syrup on the sidewalks. We were an open campus so it’s all in front of our classroom doors- we had no hallways. And then they. They fucking EGGED ALL THE DOORS. The whole campus smelled like...ick.

41. last person you texted?

My father and mother in a group text to cry about customers treating me poorly.

42. jacket pockets or pants pockets?

I prefer the jacket pockets because I still haven’t found a way to get men’s pants under the radar of my ever-watchful parents and women’s jeans pockets are SHITTY. Women gotta boycott this shit it is UNACCEPTABLE-

44. favorite scent for soap?

Peppermint...peppermint ^-^ I like to smell like...mint.

45. which genre: sci-fi, fantasy or superhero?

Fantasy!

46. most comfortable outfit to sleep in?

Recently I was reminded I live alone and my new favorite sleeping outfit...is...just some boxer shorts. Suck it dysphoria. Manly nightwear.

47. favorite type of cheese?

Pepper jack, Swiss, or ricotta.

48. if you were a fruit, what kind would you be?

Strawberry :3

50. what made you laugh the hardest you ever have?

I’m gonna sound so gay but when @disasterbikirito started laughing about a certain GIF and his laugh was so infectious I couldn’t help but laugh too.

51. current stresses?

Are you shitting me it’s everything. Every. Single. Thing. I cannot breathe. I am having meltdowns. Someone fucking save me I cannot deal with COVID well.

52. favorite font?

Garamond for writing in my free time, Doulous SIL for all the linguistics IPA symbols my greedy heart desires.

53. what is the current state of your hands?

Smooth but my fingertips have been gnawed on. I am stressed, okay?

54. what did you learn from your first job?

Gosh, lots of things. But the most important takeaway is that a good boss will genuinely care about you. I miss that man. He was so wonderful and so caring and taught me so much about theater. Technical things and artistic things and historical things. Sometimes I wish I could have made a career out of working under him.

55. favorite fairy tale?

Beauty and the Beast (AH...AH...I SEE YOU ROLLING YOUR EYES BECAUSE I’M TRANS. I KNOW. I *KNOW*.)

56. favorite tradition?

It’s a family tradition kinda unique to my household. Each year, we draw a name from a hat, and that name comes with a lot of words that describe us and what we liked over that year. We then each take a $20 bill and we go to a little hobby shop with cheap things in it and use that $20 bill to fill a Christmas stocking. We then hang them back up and empty the stocking full of candies and random silly things and have a good laugh and guess who filled whose stocking.

57. the three biggest struggles you’ve overcome?

The first one is coming to terms with knowing my dad has a severe illness. It really shook my family up, and it’s terrifying us right now with everything going on, but after a while, I learned that he was smiling, so I could smile, too.

The second one is my mother coming back from her tour in the Middle East on top of the murder of my godmother. Two very stressful things happened at once. My mother got very violent from her PTSD and her best friend died in a horrible way. It was an adjustment for everyone, and it kind of ripped my family to pieces. I can say, though, that my parents are still married and are getting better, and my sister and I are coming back to the family to be more open and healthy.

The third, and maybe some of my followers are aware, was getting rid of my ex-fiance. He was a man who sexually assaulted me repeatedly and I won’t go into details beyond that. It took me 5 years to get rid of him and accept what happened, but I am a much happier person now and while I work through the trauma that caused me, I have the most wonderful partner by my side and if you had told me back then I’d find someone as kind and patient and loving as him, I would have laughed and thought you were insane.

59. if you were a video game character, what would your catchphrase be?

Probably what I put on all my fanfic updates: “I know. I’m an asshole.”

60. if you were a character in an anime, what kind of anime would you want it to be?

Some kind of shoujo romance but it’s bi also I want a sword.

61. favorite line you heard from a book/movie/tv show/etc.?

There was nothing more smartass than Alice Synthesis 30 in SAO 18 asking a reporter to open up his head and prove he was human I’m sorry like OOF-

63. five songs that would play in your club?

Get in losers, we’re playing Steppin’ Out by FLOW, Elle me dit by Mika, Blue by Eiffel 65, ADAMAS by LiSA, and Touch Off by UVERworld.

64. favorite website from your childhood?

I was on Webkinz more than I want to admit.

65. any permanent scars?

Yup. I have one on my toe where I split the skin in half. I tripped. I have three surgical scars from when I had my appendix removed. And...the mystery scar. I was supposedly born with a scar it’s at the part where my foot meets my leg on my left side and you can see how it’s stretched over the years if you run your finger over it. The joke is that the doctor taking out my mom’s appendix scratched me in the womb.

67. good luck charms?

Not really a charm but I do have a little Kirito keychain I carry everywhere I go that I fiddle with when I’m nervous.

68. worst flavor of any food or drink you’ve ever tried?

Artificial bubblegum. Disgustiiiing.

70. left or right handed?

I am right-handed.

71. least favorite pattern?

Zig-zags.

72. worst subject?

History...I am ashamed. It’s interesting, I just suck at it.

73. favorite weird flavor combo?

Gingerbread and marshmallow. I am a bit picky about mixing foods and flavors, so this was the weirdest I could think up.

74. at what pain level out of ten (1 through 10) do you have to be at before you take an advil or ibuprofen?

Can you hear that? It’s my hysterical laughter. 12 on a scale of 10. I get up there pretty frequently. Thank you, chronic crippling pain.

75. when did you lose your first tooth?

I...I don’t remember...I don’t even remember...I think I had to be like what...kindergarten?

76. what’s your favorite potato food (i.e. tater tots, baked potatoes, fries, chips, etc.)?

THIS IS CRUEL I LOVE ALL POTATOS I LOVE THEM ALL SO MUCH-Au gratin.

77. best plant to grow on a windowsill?

Aloe!

78. coffee from a gas station or sushi from a grocery store?

Coffee from a gas station. Mark my words...I will never get grocery store sushi. Ever. Again. My stomach has not forgotten. What a mistake. That was.

79. which looks better, your school id photo or your driver’s license photo?

So, my driver’s license hasn’t had an updated photo since I was 15 and just had a learner’s so I look like I want to murder a man but my school ID I had just run about a mile in the cold because the bus wasn’t running that day and my face is red and I look like I’m crying...probably the school ID...

80. earth tones or jewel tones?

Jewel tones~~

81. fireflies or lightning bugs?

I am from the South and we call ‘em lightnin’ bugs.

82. pc or console?

Errrrr console. I’m not a gamer by any means but there’s way fewer things to press on a console controller.

84. podcasts or talk radio?

Neither...what...no...neither...they will put me to sleep...I will be out in seconds...the most dangerous things...people talking...and then I’m out...

84. barbie or polly pocket?

Barbie, she’s a LOT easier to dress. Those rubber clothes. SMH.

86. cookies or cupcakes?

Cookies but they gotta be the soft ones.

87. your greatest fear?

Being swallowed in the ocean. By a fish or a whale. I don’t play. Church kid don’t play with big things in the ocean with big mouths.

88. your greatest wish?

To make enough of a difference in someone’s life that they learn to love themself.

89. who would you put before everyone else?

Such a selfish thought...gosh...the mere thought of prioritizing someone troubles me.

90. luckiest mistake?

Telling a cute guy sending me dog pictures was an excellent flirting technique as he sent me pictures of his puppy. I immediately thought “oh god I’ve fucked up bad” and at present we’re kinda head over heels for one another so maybe just be stupidly blunt once and a while you might find true love.

91. boxes or bags?

Boxes. My cat didn’t force me to say that. Not at all. Sock, buddy, off the keyboard-

92. lamps, overhead lights, sunlight or fairy lights?

Sunlight. I like the sun. The sun is my friend. It is warm and would never betray me.

93. nicknames?

Sister calls me “spoony” when she’s being ridiculous. No, I don’t know what that means. Mama calls me “cakes.” I had friends who called me “Deku” because I’m a crybaby. Had a few people DM me and straight up call me “Eugeo” or “Eug.” AJ is technically a nickname.

94. favorite season?

Springtime!!!!! It’s...HERE!

95. favorite app on your phone?

I use like three apps...so Discord.

96. desktop background?

It’s. It’s Kirito and Eugeo. What did you expect.

97. how many phone numbers do you have memorized?

Mama’s, dad’s, mine, and my parents’ house number. And does the emergency 911 count (pahahaha).

(I answered the others in delicateeuphoria’s ask!)

#ask #ask me anything #weird asks that say a lot #ask game #weeaboo-god

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5-seconds-of-bucky · 5 years

Text

So I Don’t Forget (Luke Imagine)

A/N: Anna's writing 5sos stuff??? It's been forever since I've posted anything with 5sos but nobody reads it so . . . Anyways, I know this is a cliche idea but I like it. Thanks to everyone who reads this! Please reblog and leave feedback! It would mean the world to me!!!

Summary: You write letters to Luke to help cope with his death

Word Count: 2.1k+

Warnings: Mentions of death, very sad, swearing

*Italics are the letter, normal font is y/n's actions*

April 13, 2018

Dear Luke,

It's been a month since the accident and I haven't been doing so great. My therapist suggested writing letters to you to help cope but I don't think they're going to help. I've only felt more upset now that I have to think about you more. I don't even know what to write about. Not much has been going on since you left. I haven't been able to do much without feeling the need to break down. I've tried to stay strong for Robbie but it's so hard. He's too young to understand what happened, other than the fact that you aren't here anymore. Everyone is nice to me, but in a pitiful way. It's almost like death is contagious or something. They bring over meals and tell me that they're there for me if I need anything but the second I invite them in, they act like they have somewhere to be and leave.

That hurt: realizing that nobody knew how to comfort you, or even made an effort to try. Without Luke, you felt so lonely. You had Robbie, but he couldn't do much, being so young.

You should see Robbie now. He's grown so quickly. I can already see you in him, it's insane. His hair is all curls and his nose is an exact replica of yours. I wish you were still around so he could take after you personality wise. Now he's going to be as sarcastic as I am (which probably isn't a good thing). Fuck that driver who couldn't stop to think about how dangerous drunk driving is. They didn't just take you from us, they left Robbie without a dad, your bandmates without a brother, and me without my soulmate. You left too soon and now I have to be a single mom when we barely had this parenting thing down with two people. It's so hard.

The tears that had been few and in between for the past few days were pouring down your face now, some splashing onto the paper of which you were writing your letter. You couldn't help it. The more you thought about it, the more the pain crept into your soul, consuming every last cell you had. You had lost you husband, your soulmate, and you'd never get him back.

This is all I can write for today. I love you so much and I promise I will never forget you. Not a second goes by when you're not consuming my thoughts. With more love than we could ever imagine,

Y/N

It was done. Your first letter to your dead husband was finished. What else could you write to someone who would never read it?

6/30/18

Dear Luke,

It's been a while. I'm sorry, I just haven't been able to get myself to write this. I've been doing so much better lately. I can go out and do things like a functional person now! Everyone's doing a lot better actually. The boys have been coming over a lot recently for dinner. They look less heartbroken, and I guess I do too. They've talked about finishing the tour soon but they're probably going to break up after that. It's not the same without you. Who knows, maybe they could get someone to replace you! (Haha, they could and would never. You are just too special to replace.) That was kinda mean but I think this deeply heavy and emotional letter needs some comedy relief. (You can tell I'm doing better since I'm making jokes again.) How is it up there? I hope you're doing alright and that you're not lonely. Robbie is convinced you don't have enough friends and you need some company but I told him I'm sure you've made plenty. He really misses you now that he kinda understands that you're gone for good. He's told me that he wants to be just like you when he grows up. (He's convinced he could replace you in the band if someone would just show him how to play the guitar. I don't trust his three year old hands around them though so don't worry, your guitars are perfectly safe.) He's going to start preschool this year and I'm not sure I'm ready for that. He's grown up so fast! Soon enough he'll be going to college and I'll be all alone. I forgot to tell you, I got a job! At first it was just to distract me from my grief, but I've found that I really enjoy it. Sure, we have enough money to live comfortably for a very long time, but I didn't want to spend the rest of my days sitting around and doing nothing. Anyways, that's all I really have to write for today. I miss you so much and I love you to the end of the universe and back a million times! Love,

Y/N

You clicked the end of the pen with a sigh of relief. You had written your first letter to him in two months and you were just now realizing how much better you felt. It was like swearing when you stubbed your toe. A bit of relief from the pain you felt. Maybe this helped more than you originally thought.

7/3/18

Dear Luke,

I know it's only been a few days but you need to hear about this. Robbie told me he wants another pet. Another fucking pet. I though Petunia was enough but no, he wants a cat. I love cats and all, but do we need another pet??? Petunia takes up enough space as the baked potato she is (I love her for it don't get me wrong) so we don't need another animal right? It's really hard to get ask your advice when you can't respond. Maybe we should do it just because we can and I think Petunia needs a companion. She's good around cats, right? Fine, I'll do it. I can't believe writing to you is helping me make up my mind. Oh well. While I'm here, might as well mention that I miss you and I love you so much!!! (Three exclamation points, that's a lot! That's how you know how much I miss you) Sorry this letter is so short but we have to go look for a cat now. Love you! Love,

Y/N

P.S: We bought all the supplies for the cat. Now we have to go find one (7/4)

P.P.S: We got a really fluffy cat and Petunia loves her (7/6)

8/1/18

Dear Daddy,

Hi daddy! It's Robbie! I miss you so much!! Mommy has to write this cause I don't know how to write yet. We got a kitty and we named her Oreo cause she's black and white. Petunia likes her soooooo much. When I play blocks Oreo knocks them over and then I have to start over. I built a really cool castle yesterday but Petunia ran into it before mommy could take a picture of it. My birthday is coming soon! I'm going to be 4! Mommy said that Grandma and Papa are coming over and we are going to eat cake and open presents (but the presents are for me because it's my birthday). I'm going to play with Petunia now! I love you!!!!!!!!

Love, Robbie

Hey Luke, It's me, Y/N. I'm not gonna waste paper so I'll write this on the same sheet. I think we'll keep the letters to once a month now so I have stuff to talk about and so we don't forget. Robbie drew you a picture so I'll put it in here when I fold the letter. It's a picture of all of us and Petunia and Oreo. I don't know why I'm so short compared to you. Maybe because I told him that you were super tall? I don't know. Anyways, the boys have decided not to finish the tour. They claimed it's just not the same without you on stage and that they don't want to have a 5sos without you. I don't know if they're going to continue as a band or not. I know you would want them to but it would be weird without you. I'm gonna go now. Sorry these have been short lately. I'm not really sure what to say anymore. These letters help to cope but I don't think I can really put everything I want to say on paper yet. Love you more every day that passes by!

Love, Y/N

Throughout the next few months you wrote Luke letters, hoping that the words would just flow onto the page. Every month it seemed harder to put something down. You felt much happier now, but that emotional barrier was still present. After a while you stopped writing the letters, too frustrated with yourself to try to write more. You never forgot about your husband, but you started to think about him less often than before. That was, until the one year anniversary of his death.

3/13/19

Dear Luke,

I'm back. I know it's been too long but I've been doing so well. The letters got to a point where there was nothing for me to put down on the page. They started to make me more frustrated with myself than they helped me cope. I never knew what to say other than I miss you and I wish you had never left. I finally finished my last therapy session! (Last week actually, but now is not the time for technicalities) I'm so much more at peace with myself than I was a year ago. A whole year that you've been gone and it feels like an eternity. It's been so hard without you here. I know I said I've been doing better but sometimes I feel myself slip without anyone there to catch me. There are nights where I can't do anything but cry because I know that I have to live the rest of my life without you. That I will never find someone who I love like I loved you. Like I love you.

In that moment you broke down. Luke was gone for good and you couldn't do anything about it. The only part you had left of him was his guitars and Robby.

I know I have to be strong but it's so fucking hard. Life is shitty without your sunshine personality to make it better. Robby is constantly asking about you and I wish I didn't have to leave you partially up to his imagination. He needs a father figure here and I can't give that to him. I've tried to get back into the dating game but I just can't. Being with someone that isn't you doesn't sit right with me. The thought of someone taking your place as my husband and as Robby's dad is terrifying. You were supposed to be with me through it all and you were barely there for the first portion.

You place the pen down on the desk you kept in your room and stood up to go to bed. You couldn't finish this letter. Sobs pushed through your body and you couldn't seem to stop them as they slowly got louder and louder. Normally you would be concerned that Robby would hear you but at this point you just needed to let it all out. The pain that you had held down for the past year all came out at once. What if Luke had been five minutes late from the meeting rather than out on time. What if you had asked him to pick up the milk you needed so he would have to take a different turn. What if that stupid driver hadn't gotten drunk in the first place.

"Mommy, why are you crying?" Your son's voice came from the doorway. He was holding the stuffed tiger Luke had bought for him when he was born. Ever since the accident, Robby rarely let it out of his sight.

"I just miss daddy," You reply, sitting up in your bed and holding out your arms to pick him up when he walked over to you."We lost him a whole year ago now and I miss him a whole lot."

Robby was clinging onto you now, hugging you as tight as he could and burying his face into your shoulder. You sat like that for a minute, trying to stop your tears until you felt Robby start to shake.

"Why can't daddy come back to us? I miss him!" He wailed, causing you to shed a few more tears. At that moment, the only thing you could do was rub his back and cry with him.

"I miss him too baby. I miss him too."

#5sos #5 seconds of summer #5sos one shots #5sos imgaines #5 seconds of summer one shots #5 seconds of summer imagines #5sos fanfiction #5 seconds of summer fanfiction #Luke Hemmings #Luke Hemmings one shot #Luke Hemmings imagines #Luke Hemmings fanfiction #my writing #angst #reader x luke hemmings #y/n #reader insert

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greasyvan · 5 years

Text

Sweets [A Van McCann Oneshot]

Rating: M. This is pretty much just pure smut lol

Word count: 5k

Request: nah

You swore as you crossed the threshold, struggling with the grocery bags you had hanging off your arms. Kicking the door shut behind you and blowing some loose strands of hair from your eyes, you shuffled into the kitchen.

“Jaff?” Van called from the couch, the top of his head peeking over the back. You smiled at each other as you dropped the groceries on the counter and rubbed your arms. They were red and indented from where the straps cut into your skin.

“Larry over at Kai’s?” You asked, unpacking the first bag. Larry and Kai had been dating

for the last eight months and he was smitten to say the least. He spent most of his time over at hers, “making up for lost time,” as he said. Van hummed and hauled himself off the couch, resting his guitar against it and coming over to help you unpack. He yawned, he’d just gotten back from a four month long tour around the world and was understandably exhausted.

“How was class?” Van asked as he pried open the refrigerator door and slid the strawberries into the drawer. You lifted a shoulder in a shrug.

“Fine,” You rubbed your eyes and leaned against the counter, watching Van work. He was wearing his old “The Streets” sweatshirt, something he only did when he was at home. It was hard to get used to seeing Van not in a button up and boots. “Same old. What about you, write any new timeless classics today?” Van threw his head back and laughed, a happy sound that you missed when he was gone.

“Nothing yet Jaffa but the night is young,” He met your stare and you quickly looked away. “What?” You blushed, having been caught, and shrugged.

It’d been you, Van, and Larry since reception school. Your mom packed you two Jaffa Cakes for snack time and you offered the extra to Van. He’d called you “Jaffa” ever since and that set the foundations of your friendship. You remember getting carted around in the back of Larry’s mum’s car and holding Van’s hand as he read to you and Larry slept. Van asked you to prom and Larry took two dates. You’d watched Van transform from an awkward gangly weirdo with bad hair into a slightly less awkward filled out weirdo with kind of better hair. You’d been Catfish’s biggest cheerleader since Van formed the band. You made t-shirts with fabric paints and spray on glitter. You nixed more songs and lyrics of Van’s than you could keep track of. You fell in love with each new addition to the band. You cheered the band on from the sidelines while you grinded away at uni. You wished you could go on the road with the lads, mostly because you missed Van and Larry when they were gone but also because you got lonely. You thought that living alone for nine months out of the year in a huge apartment ten minutes from your school that you paid next to nothing for because Van insisted on paying your half of the rent would be fun. You were wrong. It sucked.

“Nothing,” You mumbled after realizing he was waiting for an answer. You fussed with a plastic bag and looked back to Van. “I bought Jaffa Cakes.” You held up the box to show him and he grinned.

“Again.” He scoffed and you rolled your eyes and slapped him in the arm. You eyed him and turned away, gathering your tote bags up and putting them under the sink. “Don’t be like that Jaf,” He pouted, and before you knew it he’d snatched the box from under your arm and was holding it above his head.

“Van!” You protested, getting close to him and reaching for the box. “Give ‘em!” He laughed and stood on his tip toes, keeping them further out of your reach. Your tongue poked out from between your lips and you braced a hand on his chest, jumping for the box. You gritted your teeth but you couldn’t stop a small smile from gracing your lips. He was so annoying.

“Ryan Evan Mccann.” You threatened, knowing how much he detested the use of his full name. His face dropped immediately as he scowled at you. “Give it back.”

His frown deepened. “Just for that, no.” He turned away from you and slid the package onto the highest shelf of the cupboard. You stomped your foot and whined, only serving in making Van laugh at your childish reaction.

You made grabby hands and huffed. “Fine, fine, I’m sorry.” You pouted. “Will you just... pass it back? Please?” You blinked your eyelashes up at him and made a puppy dog face. You could see his resolve crumble right before your eyes as he pretended to think about it.

“Fine,” He lowered the box slightly. “But give us a kiss first.” You knew he was joking but the request... it might’ve made your stomach flutter and you didn’t know why. You’d kissed Van before in primary school during recess and you both immediately jumped back, laughing and scraping at your tongues. You’d agreed to never do it again. You kissed him again a couple of more times as you grew, after prom, when he released his first single, and most recently, when you were both drunk and playing a childish game of truth or dare in the back of the tour bus. You hadn’t thought about kissing Van since then. Okay well maybe the idea passed through your mind a couple of times but you never went in depth with your fantasizing.

Because it was Van, your platonic best friend Van, and maybe you didn’t want things to be so platonic anymore.

You also saw this as a way to fuck with Van a little but that was less important. You stared at each other with stubborn, narrowed eyes and taunting smirks, both playing a game of chicken that neither were prepared to lose. So you took the bait, leaned up, and planted a fat, wet kiss on Van’s chapped lips. But instead of jumping back, or laughing, or any sort of action to lessen the tension, his wide palm found your hip and seemed to be pulling you into him.

And he smelled so good, comforting and warm and spicy. Before you were aware of what you were deepening the kiss, opening your mouth and letting his tongue run over yours. You could feel his eyelashes flutter shut against your cheek, your hand moved to the nape of his neck as you twisted the hair that was there around your fingers. The other hand cupped his jaw, thumb against his cheek as you leaned away just enough to capture his bottom lip between your teeth, pull back, and let it snap back into place. Van blinked at you, slow and heavy, before descending back onto your mouth with a renewed fervor. You pulled away and sponged kisses back along his cheek as he panted, his hand squeezing your hip and the hand that held the Jaffa’s came down to waist level. You licked a stripe along his jaw and he shuddered as you leaned into him, your teeth grazing his earlobe as you spoke.

“I want you to bend me over this counter and fuck me.” You felt Van tense and inhale a

gasp, and you saw your opportunity. You snatched the box from Van’s hand and bounded out of the kitchen with a shriek.

“Hey!” Van called and ran behind you, watching you disappear behind your bedroom door with a devilish grin. You listened to Van groan behind your locked door and you grinned with satisfaction. “C’mon Y/N you gotta be kiddin’ me!”

“That’s what you get Ryan!” You said with satisfaction and tossed the box on your bed and flopping down next to it. You were slightly breathless, mostly from running but also from kissing Van.

Kissing Van. The words felt foreign on your tongue.

It was Van. You rode on the pegs of his bike with your arms around his middle and his guitar strapped to your back. You shared smokes and music and he held your hair out of your eyes when you puked. You cuddled and rubbed his feet and washed his clothes and kept him and Larry fed.

You shouldn’t have liked it but you did. You liked how his lips felt against your lips. You liked the way his breathing sped with just a few pecks to the cheek. You liked the feeling of his pulse hammering under your palm. It was all so...good.

You fell asleep and dreamed of chocolate and oranges and smooth skin and chapped lips.

A few days later you were sitting at the bar with a couple of girls from your psych class doing shots of tequila in celebration of completing your exams. You licked the salt off the back of your hand and took the shot, your nose wrinkling in disgust. You hated tequila but this was your fourth shot of it in the last hour. You swayed in your bar stool and grabbed onto your friend Anna’s arm, laughing about nothing and everything. There was a little electric jukebox playing some old R&B that you were bopping along to. Other than your group of five friends there were probably only seven other people in the bar. You were sufficiently drunk and the bartender set a glass of water down in front of you followed by a shot of rum. You drank it. The room started to spin.

“Y/N,” Anna slurred, leaning onto you. “That guy is looking at you.” You followed her finger to where she was pointing. Leaning up against a pillar with a smirk on his face and his arms crossed in front of his chest was Van. You threw your arms in the air and called his name, shimmying out of the bar stool and wobbling as you landed on unstable legs and teetered over to Van. He met you halfway and you collapsed in his arms, trusting he’d catch you. He did. He held you to his chest and brushed some hair from your eyes.

“What’re you doin’ ‘ere?” You asked, blinking up at him blearily and smiling.

“You didn’t come home,” Van softly replied and smiled. At the moment you were more interested in his white cotton shirt and how it felt under your fingers. “Figured you’d be here. You’re usually home at five and we was gonna watch Guardians of The Galaxy.” Through your spinning mind you made sense of the words and cringed internally. You were supposed to pick up thai food and watch movies with Van all night, but you’d blown him off. You felt like a shitty friend.

“You’re not,” Van used his two fingers to angle your face up towards him, not realizing you’d voiced your thoughts. “I’m not bothered.” Your eyes filled with tears at the level of softness Van was treating you with. He usually did act this way when you were drunk but because you were so inebriated it tugged at your heart a little harder.

“Van,” You clutched his shirt in both hands and let your head fall forward into his chest. “You’re so good.” He chuckled and squeezed you a little tighter.

“Let’s get you home, Jaff,” He said and you nodded into his chest. With his arm around

your waist keeping you mostly upright, Van lead you back over to your friends who you said goodbye to and paid your tab despite your protests. When the two of you got outside he wrapped you up in your jacket and carried you bridal style to his car, depositing you in the passenger seat. Your head rolled forward as he buckled you in and he held your face in both hands.

“If you’re gonna throw up tell me, alright?” You nodded in his hands. “Alright.”

“Jaff.” You were disoriented and tried your hardest to open your eyes. You felt hands on your body, unbuckling your seatbelt and sliding under your thighs and behind your back, lifting you up into a sturdy chest. Your arms wrapped around a neck and you finally blinked your eyes open to see Van’s sturdy jaw. You moaned and nuzzled into the crook of his neck, trying to curl up into a ball which was impossible in his arms.

“Fuck, Jaff, you may be tiny but you’re heavy.” You giggled as he walked you into the building.

“Not small, you’re huge.” He laughed and readjusted you in his arms as you stepped into the elevator. “Okay Superman put me down.” He complied but kept his arms around you in a hug. You appreciated it. You appreciated everything about him. He walked you into the empty apartment.

“Larry?” You questioned into the quiet of the house.

“Kai’s.” You hummed and let him walk you to the bathroom

“Up,” He commanded, holding onto your hips. You jumped and he lifted you onto the counter next to the sink. His tongue poked out from between his lips as he cleaned your face with makeup wipes. You stared at him as he worked. He was... so beautiful. Why hadn’t you noticed before.

“Van.” You whispered, his eyes flicking up to your face. “You’re so pretty.” He chuckled and shook his head but you needed him to know just how you saw him. You reached up and held his face in your hands, dead serious now. “No Van, listen.” He licked his lips and nodded, encouraging you to continue. “Your eyelashes are like, super long,” You started to list. “And your eyes are so sparkly. You have such pretty lips and freckles on your nose.” Your thumbs brushed over his cheekbones, touching the little dots on his skin. “And I love you so much.” Van grabbed you by the wrists and pressed a kiss to your palm before dropping to his knees in front of you and untying your converse, tugging them off and dropping them to the tile floor.

“Let’s get you in bed.” You nodded and allowed him to deposit you in bed, on top of the covers. “I’ll be right back.” You whined but allowed him to untangle his limbs from you and disappear. You suddenly felt hot and you needed to not be hot. With a huff you unbuttoned your jeans and kicked them off, tugging your t-shirt and bra off and throwing it across your room. You spread your limbs out wide like a starfish in the middle of the bed with your eyes closed, comfy and cool, and waited for Van’s return.

“Okay painkillers, water, some crisps- Christ Y/N!” Van slapped his palm over his eyes and attempted to juggle the items in his hands. You giggled and sat up on your forearms. “Can you please put a shirt on.”

“Nope!” You chirped, filled with drunken energy suddenly. You sat up on your knees and threw your arms open, bare chested and giggly. Van sighed and moved his hand away from his face, keeping his eyes on his boots. He placed the items on the bedside table and started to move away.

“Goodnight, Y/N.”

“No!” You fell forward and grabbed Van’s arm, falling into his chest, his arm going to your waist. “Give us a cuddle, Van?” You pouted and blinked up at him. “Please?” You heard him groan and bite his lip.

“Five minutes. And put a shirt on.” You squealed and released him, stumbling out of bed and towards your dresser. You grabbed the first soft thing you touched out and pulled it over your head. Coincidentally it was an old shirt of Van’s that you’d stolen so much he gave up on trying to take it back. You pulled it over your head and turned back to Van. He toed off his boots and slid under the covers, patting the empty space for you. You flopped down next to him and wrapped your arms around his waist, nose brushing against the column of his throat. His body went rigid and you almost pulled back until he turned on his side, deepening the embrace. You inhaled his deep scent and sighed, his hand going from your shoulder to your lower back.

“Van, just, like, cuddle me.” He chuckled and locked his arms around you, becoming more sure of his movements. He was in awe that you could be so drunk and so bossy at the same time. You tightened your hold, your lips brushing against his exposed collarbone. His breathing stuttered and, testing your luck, you pressed a solid kiss against his skin. He made no sound so you continued, just brushing your lips over his expanse of skin, lips touching his jugular. His breathing was becoming ragged but he was holding you tight against him. You twisted the cotton of his shirt and tugged, popping a couple of his buttons open, exposing more skin, becoming more forceful with your kisses. You kissed a trail up his throat, continuing the sweet torture on him. His adam’s apple bobbed when you nipped at the skin of it, feeling his pulse beneath your lips.

And then you reached the junction of where his jaw and throat met, and without warning you puckered your lips, sucking at his skin. Van gasped, his fingers pressing into your back as you continued to suck dark marks into his flesh. Your hand ran down the curve of his spine as Van waited for you to finish, the only noises echoing around your room being his heavy pants and suckling sounds. You pulled back to admire your work and smiled at his skin, shimmering with your saliva and and red spots blossoming against his skin. You hummed with satisfaction and nuzzled back into Van’s neck.

“Mine,” you mumbled into his warm flesh. “Alllllll, mine.” You felt his chin rest against the top of your head, his chest rising and falling quickly. Sleep took over almost immediately.

You stumbled into the kitchen the next morning, your head pounding despite the painkillers. Van was standing in just sweatpants in front of the stove, swearing as he attempted to scrape partially cooked pancakes out of a pan and onto a plate. You were mostly bare, just an old t-shirt of Van’s and some underwear. You didn’t remember getting home. You walked up behind Van and pinched the soft skin of his hip. He physically jumped away from you and cursed, holding his spatula up like a baseball bat.

“Jesus Christ it’s just me,” You rolled your eyes and pulled yourself up onto the counter, taking the plate of partially cooked pancakes and setting it on your naked thighs. Van mumbled something under his breath and became very interested in his pancakes. “Thanks for getting me home last night,” You said and pulled off a piece of pancake that was more cooked than the rest of it. “And taking my makeup off.” He glanced up at you and shook his head. Weird. Van wasn’t normally this grouchy in the morning. “What’s wrong?” He shot you a look and grabbed the plate off your thighs, sliding more burnt and partially cooked pancakes onto it. “Jeez what’s up your ass this morning?” He looked at you like you grew another head and sighed.

“Nothin’,” He shrugged. “I’m good.” It was your turn to shoot him a look.

“Clearly you’re not or you’d tell me what was wrong.”

“I’m fine, Y/N.” He was using your actual name. That wasn’t good. You must’ve drunkenly said or did something. You sighed and twisted on the counter, reaching into the overhead cabinets behind you and producing the box of Jaffa Cakes. You slid one out.

“Here,” You said, offering it to him. “Consider it a peace offering for whatever I did wrong.” The corners of his mouth twitched up as he stared at the cake between your fingers. He bit into it and allowed you to feed it to him. The tension seemed to be letting up until Van turned his head to the side and you saw a dark purple hickey. The metallic taste of jealousy filled your mouth for a moment until the night came back to you in fragmented shards. Arms carrying you home. Holding Van’s face in your hands. Heat waves and bare chests. Sucking and kissing and lips brushing his skin.

“Oh shit,” You panicked. That’s why he was pissed. “I did that, didn’t I?” His hand flew up to prod at the love bite while you shook your head. “Van I’m -- Fuck --You know what, let’s just, uh, forget this ever happened.” You slid out another cookie into your palm. “Take it, please,” He stared at you. “Fuck Van I’m-”

He lurched forward, cupping your face in both hands and smashing his chapped lips against yours. Your frame went rigid and your eyes flew open as he kissed you, the pancakes and cookies totally forgotten about. You were so stunned you felt like you couldn’t move. Van took your lack of movement as rejection and pulled away, scratching the back of his head.

“I don’t wanna forget about it.” His lips were pink and his pupils were blown wide. He looked, well you were gonna say it, your childhood best friend looked fucking hot. The things running through your head failed to form cohesive thoughts so you just gaped at him. He sighed and turned away, muttering “Nevermind,” under his breath.

“Van,” You called softly, that being the only thought you could fully form. When he didn’t turn around to look at you you called to him again. “Ryan Evan Mccann.” He spun on his heel and glared at you. Good. You jerked your chin up at him. “Do it again.” His brow dropped into a frown.

“Look Y/N if this is some kind of joke to you-” You rolled your eyes as he spoke and tugged your-well his-shirt over your head and dropped it to the ground, stopping him in his tracks. His eyes bulged wide as you took in the expanse of your chest, fully exposed to him.

“Oh so now you’ll look at my tits.” His eyes flicked back up to your grinning face. “Come ‘ere.” He nodded and took a step towards you. You placed the box of Jaffa Cakes on the counter beside you. He took another timid step towards you, inching his way along until he was in front of you. You parted your knees and wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling his mouth onto yours. Your ankles wrapped around his waist and his fingers held your hips, you pressed your naked chest into him as you slipped your tongue into his mouth. Your teeth gnashed together and it was awkward with haste, but at the same time perfect. You didn’t realize how badly you wanted to kiss him, and now the floodgates were open and you didn’t think you could stop. Quickly it became frantic, with lips getting pulled between teeth and Van exacting his revenge onto the skin of your throat, yours hips grinding into his as you moaned. When you pulled away for a gasping breath and Van’s mouth went to your breasts, your fingers threading through his hair, you spoke.

“I meant what I said before,” He grunted as he took a nipple between his teeth, desiring an explanation. You hissed and let your head roll back. “Please fuck me.” He froze and retracted his mouth from your flesh, looking at you. “Yeah, I want that.” You watched his adam’s apple bob as he swallowed thickly and nodded but didn’t move. You rolled your eyes and reached between the two of you and into his sweatpants, gripping his steadily swelling length. He groaned and grabbed the counter in both hands, his forehead pressing against yours as he watched your hand move against his flesh. He bit his lip, your palm rolling over the top of his pink head. Your unoccupied hand went to the back of his neck, keeping him pressed to you.

“F-Fuck,” He stuttered, eyelashes fluttering shut as he bucked into your hand. His fingers went from gripping the granite counter to pulling your panties to the side and slipping knuckle deep into you, thumbing at the bundle of nerves. You moaned his name as he steadily worked his way inside of you, you doing the same to him. The amount of times you’d heard stories about how good he was with his hands were proven as fact. He had your legs shaking in less than a minute with how he manipulated his fingers against you.

“Stop,” You panted, gripping his wrist and releasing his shaft. His eyes were half open as they met yours, he looked completely fucked out, and you were sure you didn’t look any better. “Want you,” You breathed, slotting your lips back against his.

“What are we doin’, Jaff?” He asked into your mouth, not hesitating despite the apprehension in his voice. Your hand that still held his wrist was brought up to your mouth, your tongue tracing over his fingertips before getting taken into your mouth. His eyes bulged out of his skull as you sucked yourself off his fingers. “Fuck me,” He whispered as you released him and slid off the counter. With a shimmy you kicked your panties to the side and turned away from him, arching your back and bracing your hands on the counter.

“If you haven’t noticed Van, that’s what I’ve been tryin’ to do.” He chuckled earnestly and bit at his lip.

“‘M serious. I don’t wanna be just friends with you.” You turned back around to look at Van with a roll of your eyes.

“Yeah, I thought I made it obvious I didn’t want to either?” He smiled, warm and intimate despite the depravity of the situation at hand. “Now will you please, just, fuck me?” Another warm chuckle and he turned you back around,leaning over you and skimming the tip of his nose up your spine. The hairs on the back of your neck raised as he planted a kiss on your right shoulder, biting down slightly on your flesh. You moaned. You could feel him fidget with his sweatpants for a moment and listened for the soft sound of them hitting the floor. Then his fingers were back inside you, working you open, his free hand splayed across your lower back. When he withdrew his fingers you whined, but the emptiness was quickly filled with him, pressing into you, stretching you so deliciously, making your knees go weak. He slowly pushed himself all the way in until your ass was pressed back against his hips and you’d draped yourself over the cool stone of the counter, unable to keep yourself upright. The draw back was even slower and you could feel every ridge, muscle, and vein of Van inside you and it was so intimate and felt so unbelievably good that your eyes rolled back into your head.

“Van,” You breathed and he hummed in response. “Harder.” He snapped his hips forward and you could feel him in your stomach. “Faster.” His palms went back to your hips to get a solid grip and he pounded into you so good that it felt like you were choking.

“Love,” He groaned, finding a steady pace that satisfied your needs and was something he could keep up with. “You’re squeezin’ me,” His voice was unlike how you’d ever heard it before and you could come just from that. “Fuck.” He released your hips and snaked one around your front and finding your nub, the other going to to your hair and pulling you up against him. You angled your head away from his face so he could lock his teeth onto your throat, rolling his fingers against your clit and hitting that spot inside you that made your back arch. You moaned his name like it was something holy. “Jaff I’m gonna-,” He grunted, slowing down considerably but rubbing your bundle of nerves faster.

“Yes, Van, fuck,” You turned your head over your shoulder and seeked his lips out with yours, your knees buckling. Van kept you upright as he finished you off, body going slack as his hips began to stutter. You could feel your orgasm shatter through your body, and it was so, so, so good you hardly even noticed Van coming deep inside you. He went to pull out but you wrapped your arm around him from behind, keeping him buried inside.

“Wait,” You gasped, not ready to be empty quite yet. Van nodded and kissed your throat, rubbing your tummy and just feeling you until you were ready to be released. You turned around and rested your back against the counter, watching him as he watched you.

“D’you mean it?” He asked, worrying the skin of his thumbs, a thing he often did when he was nervous. You looked down at the fluids running down the inside of your thighs and back to his face.

“You think I let any guy come in me?” His eyes went wide at your brashness, cheeks pinkened and a wispy chuckle left his throat. You punched his shoulder. “Nuh uh, I love you, Ryan.”

Van grinned at you with his crooked teeth, stepped forward, and planted a wet kiss on your lips. “I love you.”

You bent down and picked up his sweatpants, tossing them at his head. He caught them and you both redressed, just as you heard the front door unlock and Larry call out your names. He stopped when he saw you both in the kitchen exchanging guilty glances. He looked between the two of you for a moment.

“Did you two just fuck?” He didn’t even say it like a question though. Neither of you answered and Larry sighed. “Well it’s about time.” He kept walking into the house before calling over his shoulder, “Please just don’t fuck in the kitchen anymore. Highly unsanitary.”

#vanfic #VanFiction #Van Smut #van mccann #catb #Catfish and the Bottlemen #johnny bond #benji blakeway #Bob Hall #larry lau

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