#I bet you he doesn’t even know he technically asked her out

[theamazingannie]

“Show!Percabeth is moving too fast!” Book!Percy refers to Annabeth as pretty like three separate times shortly after meeting her. Boy’s been down bad from the START

[sistertotheknowitall]

Some Guy Bingo

Masterpost.

Nearly three months into (what Jason called) The Haunting, the siblings kinda started a game. (“Either we're haunting him or he's haunting us, I haven't decided yet." "Considering he's the one appearing randomly, I'd say he's haunting us.")

Technically Tim had started it with, “five bucks says Danny went to class today.” (Gotham university was having an out break of fear toxin curtesy of Dr. Crane.) However, it was Jason who kicked it off with, “ten if he says something about actual scarecrows.”

Dick had snorted and said, “fifteen if it’s a personal experience about a farm.”

“I call bingo if he makes a vague statement on agriculture.” So it was actually Steph who started it.

“Bingo? We were placing bets.”

“Unlike you Hood, some people don’t get adopted by money.”

“As if Bruce doesn’t give you an allowance.”

(“As if he didn’t offer to adopt you,” Tim tacked on.)

It became a running joke where they started calling out "bingo if -" whenever they had to go out on a call. The joke had later formed into a running game when Danny had told Cass, “fighting gods is a pass-time, it is humanity that the real fight is against.” (He had trip over a curb and laid on the ground for several minutes before she asked if he was okay.) She said it wasn’t the most concerning thing he said to her and Steph chimed in claiming, “on a scale of one to ten that statement rates at a three.”

Jason had asked why Cass and Steph always got the weird ambiguous statements and he got cryptic shit about his “soul”.

(Damian had pointed out that at least he wasn’t being constantly referred to as a baby.)

I Call Bingo, which they still played whenever a situation required more than one of them, became “on a scale”

Dick was sure that “having given up on optimism, I find your enthusiasm to be overly bright” should be ranked higher then “I don’t like two-stepping but I’m from the mid-west, so do you know how to line dance?” (Danny and Duke had gotten into an awkward side step where they kept blocking each other.) Damian said the wording seemed passive-aggressive but the tone was too positive to be rude so he gave it a three. Jason said it sounded like a bad pick up line and gave it a two.

They often debated and defended the score they gave with Barbara chiming in over coms. She had never met Danny as Oracle but he was a regular at the public library. He was always polite and respectful and had quickly become one of her favorite patrons. Like Steph and Cass she also got odd statements but hers felt more like half-hearted jokes.

Bruce didn't always join in on their game but it wasn't surprising to see the occasional score placed in their reports. (They had a file dedicated to Danny's remarks. Originally it was to keep track of what they knew about him but at this point it was just to let the others know what he said this time.) Alfred was roped into it even if he didn't really participate unless asked. ("Hey Alfie, what would you give 'i'm glad i don't have to fight my food to eat it but if Batburger keeps giving me the wrong thing I'm summoning Lunch Lady.' Cause Tim says two but I think it's a five.") (He gave it a four.)

Post 4

[sincerelyneo]

igloo | h.rj

“i make him lose his cool, yeah i make him go…”

💿now playing: igloo by kiss of life

❯ summary: No Nut November is stupid—so why is your boyfriend making a bet with Hyuck that he can last the longest? Surely he doesn’t want to actually deprive himself from sex with you for a month? Surely he’s not serious…? Oh, he is. That won’t do.

❯ pairings: renjun x fem!reader

❯ genre: established relationship, smut

❯ words: 4.1k

❯ tags: 18+ minors dni!, swearing, petty stupid argument, slight angst, female masturbation, voyeurism, premature ejaculation, begging, slight sub!renjun, lots of teasing, reader uses she/her pronouns, basically just renjun agreeing to a stupid bet and y/n making him regret it

“Personally,” Hyuck says, throwing his hands up confidently, “I think I’d last the longest. Strong willpower and all that, you know?”

Renjun rolls his eyes, swatting him with a light smack on the back of the head. “No, you wouldn’t. You can’t go five minutes without emptying your balls, slut.”

Hyuck growls, winding up to smack him on the back, but he stops short as you stroll into the living room, a few cans of beer balanced in your hands. You drop them onto the coffee table with a loud thud, raising an eyebrow at the two of them.

“What are you idiots arguing about now?”

This was how every Friday night hangout went with your boyfriend and his friends. Laughter, drinks, and memories in the making—until Hyuck and Renjun would start bickering. Hyuck started it every time on purpose, and without fail, your boyfriend would take the bait, falling right into his trap.

And when you say fall right in, you mean it. They’re so wrapped up in each other’s throats that neither even acknowledge your question. You turn to Jisung, who shrugs and mutters something about No Nut November. Your mouth drops open in an “oh.”

“I’m just saying, I’d last the longest out of all you boys,” Hyuck insists, crossing his arms lazily.

“Bullshit!”

Hyuck’s brows knit together. “Oh, so you think you could last longer, Junnie?”

“Without question,” Renjun scoffs. “I’d last longer than you in every single way.”

Hyuck scowls. And perhaps it’s the double meaning in Renjun’s words that has him snapping, or just his overall general competitive streak, but all of a sudden he has no interest in dropping this argument or backing down. 

“Are you challenging me, Huang Renjun?”

Renjun grins, leaning forward. “I mean, if you’re asking…”

You can’t believe Renjun is even entertaining the idea. No Nut November is stupid on a good day, let alone when someone has a girlfriend, you think. But it’s downright laughable when that someone happens to be your boyfriend—and the two of you go at it like rabbits.

Hyuck smirks, his gaze flickering from you to your boyfriend with a glint of mischief. “Oh, I’m definitely asking. Let’s see,” he drawls, leaning back with an exaggerated grin. “Which one of us can last the longest this month, loser owes the other $1000?”

“Done.”

You stare at Renjun, your mouth slightly ajar. “Done?” you echo, your tone fuming. He doesn’t even flinch, too busy locking eyes with Hyuck like it’s some weird standoff: men and their egos. 

“Renjun,” you say, sharper now, catching his attention. His eyes flicker over to you, and for a split second, you think he might come to his senses. “You’re my boyfriend. My boyfriend,” you emphasise. “You just basically agreed to not have sex with me for an entire month.”

“Well technically, you can have sex but he just can’t cum—”

“Not now, Jisung!” You snap. 

Hyuck bursts out laughing, clapping his hands like this is the funniest thing he’s heard all year. “Oh, I sooo have this in the bag,” he cackles. “And Renjun, you can’t take it back now. We shook on it—well, metaphorically. I have witnesses.” 

Renjun pales slightly, glancing between you and Hyuck. “I—uh—” he stammers, but Hyuck cuts him off, wagging a finger mockingly. 

“Nope! Rules are rules, Junnie. You’re in this now…unless you wanna forfeit—”

“No!”

You cross your arms, fixing Renjun with a glare. “So, let me get this straight. You’re really going to prioritise this over your girlfriend?”

“It’s not like that!” Renjun says quickly, looking genuinely panicked now. “It’s just—Hyuck started it!”

“Hyuck started it?” you repeat, raising an eyebrow. “That’s your excuse? Are we in middle school?”

“No–baby–I–” Renjun stutters. “I just—You know what he’s like. He’d never let me hear the end of it if I said no.”

“Oh, I still won’t,” Hyuck chimes in, grinning ear to ear. “Because there’s no way you’re making it through this, Junnie. Not when your girl looks like that.” Hyuck gestures toward you with a smirk, clearly enjoying every second of this.

Renjun glares at him, a growl of anger leaving his lips, but you’re quick to interject. “So you’re risking $1,000 and pausing our entire sex life for a month—because you can’t handle Hyuck’s teasing?”

Renjun winces. “When you say it like that, it sounds bad.”

“That’s because it is bad,” you shoot back. “What are you even trying to prove? That you have more self-control than Hyuck? Congratulations, Renjun. Everyone already knows that.”

Hyuck gasps, feigning offence by clutching his fists to his chest. “Wow, Y/N. You wound me.”

“I’m sure you’ll live,” you retort dryly because he’s pissed you off just as much.

Renjun sighs, running a hand through his hair. “Look, it’s just a month. It’s not a big deal—”

“Not a big deal?” you cut him off. “You do realise this affects me too, right?” You throw your hands up, standing to your feet. “Fine. You know what? Do whatever you want. But if you even think about caving, just remember—you’ll owe Hyuck $1,000 and me an apology.”

With that, you grab your beer and stomp out of the living room, leaving Renjun to stew. Hyuck leans back, grinning smugly before turning to Jisung. “I give him three days.”

Jisung nods thoughtfully. “I’m thinking two.”

Renjun manages to last two weeks without cumming—a new record since the two of you started dating, though it’s hardly an accomplishment. When your girlfriend is mad at you, it’s easy not to cum—mainly because you weren’t offering.

You weren’t outright ignoring him, but your usual affection had taken a sharp nosedive. No lingering kisses, no teasing touches, no late-night “accidental” brushes under the covers. It was like you’d put him on lockdown—and, annoyingly, he was thankful for it.

That pissed you off even more.

Here you were, trying to make a point, and Renjun was treating it like some kind of twisted blessing. He wasn’t sulking, wasn’t apologising profusely like he usually would. Instead, he seemed…relieved, like your passive-aggressive cold shoulder was doing him a favour.

It especially pissed you off one night when Renjun came back from dance practice, his shirt clinging to his torso, sweat beading on his forehead, and his eyes glazed over in exhaustion. Usually, when he came home like that—when it wasn’t No Nut November—you’d order takeout, settle on the sofa, and have lazy couch sex, no effort, no stress.

But not tonight.

No, because it is No Nut November and he agreed to it. So instead of collapsing into your arms, he takes himself upstairs, barely sparing you a glance, getting straight in the shower and tossing on a pair of grey sweatpants—torture, you think—and sits himself down in front of his PC, clicking at the keyboard as he logs online

He. Pisses. You. Off.

“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?” you snap, arms crossed, eyes fixed on him as he spins his chair around to face you on the bed.

He raises an eyebrow, pulling his headphones off and letting them hang loosely around his neck. “What are you talking about?”

“You don’t miss me touching you, do you?” 

“Baby,” he starts, his voice low and soft, “That’s not true—”

“Really?” You tilt your head. “Because it sure feels true.”

Renjun runs a hand through his hair. “I do miss you. I miss you a lot, okay? But you’re mad at me, and I know I deserve it...so I wanted to give you space.”

You shake your head, “That feels oddly convenient.”

“I promise you it’s not,” he sighs, cautiously sliding closer. “How about this… is there anything I can do to at least try and make it up to you?”

You arched an eyebrow. “That depends. Are you planning on sticking to this ridiculous bet?”

He hesitates, and you can practically see the war waging in his head. “...Hyuck will never let me live it down if I back out,” he admits sheepishly.

You groan, sinking back against the headboard. “You’re actually unbelievable.”

Renjun doesn’t make a move to comfort you, doesn’t try to touch or reach for you. He knows you’re pissed, but for some reason, he can’t bring himself to drop this stupid fucking bet. His eyes flicker to you for a split second, and even though you're giving him nothing but cold, angry silence, he can’t help but think how fucking cute you look when you're this worked up.

You’re absolutely right to be mad. He’s an idiot. He misses you so much, misses your lips, your touch, your smile. 

Fuck, he feels his resolve starting to crack, and so he spins around in his chair, putting all his attention back on his game and not on your pretty little pout. His fingers hit the keyboard aggressively. And although his eyes stay glued to the screen, he can feel the heat of your stare drilling into the back of his head.

Unbelievable, you think.

He’s really doing this. Pretending like he doesn’t care that you're right there, seething and beautiful and willing. You can see the tension in his shoulders, how his jaw tightens whenever he thinks you’re not looking. He needs this, needs you but he won’t let himself because he’s been in a dick swinging competition with Lee Donghyuck since he met him. 

It pisses you off—at first. But then the anger twists into something darker, bolder. Maybe it’s the frustration of going a week without him, or maybe it’s just the pure, unfiltered horniness. Either way, your patience snaps. 

You didn’t agree to this no-orgasms-for-a-month bullshit. You had nothing to lose. You didn’t need to punish yourself. 

If Renjun won’t help you, fine. You’ll just have to take care of it yourself.

The thought is intoxicating, and once it’s in your head, there’s no shaking it. You shift against the headboard, eyes locked on his back. He’s been insufferable, sure, but the memory of him coming home sweaty and dishevelled—so fucking hot—has you pent up.

Your fingers brush your lips, and you can almost feel his again. Wet. Hungry. God, you’ve missed stumbling into bed together, tugging at his clothes and fighting for breath. You’ve missed the warmth of his body, and Renjun was always warm; the way he feels against you—scorching, consuming, addictive. He’s practically a fire hazard for your senses.

Your hand trails down, teasing over your chest, your fingers clutching at the fabric as you imagine it’s his touch. He could be doing this—should be doing this—but he won’t. Because you both know it wouldn’t stop there.

You let out a slow breath, the ache between your thighs growing more unbearable with every passing second. It’s the closest you’ve been to sex for the past two weeks and still, Renjun hasn’t looked at you once, his focus stubbornly locked on his stupid game. 

The memory of him murmuring “Look, it’s just a month,” as he ran a hand through his hair flashes through your mind, and it makes you want to scream. He had no idea how badly you’d need him, how badly you’d miss him, and how much it would hurt when he started pulling away. Or maybe he did and perhaps he was being selfish. 

But that’s okay, because you were about to do your own version of self-indulgence. 

Your hands drift to your thighs, nails raking lightly against your skin as you glare at his back. He hasn’t even flinched, acting like he can’t feel the fire you’re staring into his hair. 

You start slow—fingers brushing against the fabric of your panties, the warmth pooling low in your stomach making you shiver. You bite your lip as you press down harder, a sharp pang of pleasure hitting you as you add a small amount of pressure. The thought of him watching, of him finally snapping and turning around, sends a thrill straight through you. But he doesn’t move. 

You want him to move. 

You try parting your lips with a quiet sigh to get his attention—hands still teasing yourself, slipping under the waistband of your underwear. You know exactly how to touch yourself, how to work your body into a frenzy. But it’s not enough—it’s never enough—not when you know how much better it feels when it’s him.

When he still doesn’t look, your last ounce of patience snaps. Fine, if he wants to ignore you, you’ll make damn sure he can’t.

Your hand moves to the nightstand, yanking open the drawer with just enough force to make it rattle. You grab the vibrator—the vibrator, the one he’d bought you for your birthday with that smug little grin, saying he wanted to “make things interesting.” Well, you plan on making tonight very interesting.

This isn’t for fun. This is revenge, pure and simple.

You lean back against the headboard, spreading your legs just enough to get comfortable, the cool air hitting your heated skin. Your thumb presses the button, and the low buzz fills the room, cutting through the quiet. It’s barely louder than a whisper, but it’s enough to make Renjun’s fingers pause mid-keystroke, his entire body going still.

Good.

You don’t even look at him. Not yet. Instead, you drag the toy against your inner thigh, a soft moan slipping past your lips, breathy and deliberate, as you let your head fall back, eyes fluttering shut.

And then, just like you planned, he turns. And when he sees you—legs spread, vibrator in hand—his eyes go impossibly wide.

“What the fuck are you doing?” he stammers, his voice cracking slightly at the end.

You hum softly, dragging the toy up your thigh with evil slowness. Your lips part with a quiet gasp, and his breath hitches audibly. “I’m watering the plants. What does it look like I’m doing!?”

“Y/N,” he tries again, this time more forceful, his eyes shooting to the ceiling as he takes a long deep breath. His hand clenches the edge of the desk like it’s the only thing keeping him grounded. “I’m serious. Turn that off.”

You finally meet his gaze, expression dripping with mock innocence as you scoff. “Why? I never agreed to No Nut November. I can entertain myself all I like.”

His mouth opens, but no words come out. You can see the panic flickering in his eyes, the video game in the background long abandoned flashing with the ‘respawn’ screen as a flush creeps up his neck. You can tell he is desperately trying to hold onto whatever self-control he has left. So far, No Nut November had been surprisingly easy for him—mostly because you’d been at each other’s throats all week. But now? With you looking like this? He’s fucked.

“Y/N, I mean it,” he warns, his voice shaky. His gaze darts to the vibrator in your hand, then to the way your legs are spread, and then back to your face. You can tell he’s trying not to look, but his resolve is cracking with every passing second.

You shake your head, biting your lip as you trace the toy over your clothed clit. His Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows hard, shifting uncomfortably in his chair. You don’t miss the way his hand twitches like he’s fighting the urge to reach for you as you whimper. 

“You know…you could always just look away,” you say with a shrug, your tone light, teasing. “Unless, of course, you like watching.”

His eyes snap to yours, panic flashing behind them, but there’s no hiding the way his chest is rising and falling faster now. The blush staining his cheeks deepens as he shifts again, and your eyes drop—just for a second—to the bulge straining against his pants.

Like you said, those grey sweatpants are torture and you can see everything. It only spurs you on to pull your panties to the side and run the buzzing toy between your slick wet folds. The first real contact has you gasping, your back arching slightly against the headboard, and Renjun visibly twitches in his chair.

“Y/N, I’m warning you,” he tries again, but his voice is shaky, almost pleading.

“Warning me?” You echo. “What are you gonna do, huh? It’s not like you can do anything. You’re just gonna sit there and play your game while I get myself off because of a stupid dumb bet.”

His hand flexes against the armrest, his breathing ragged now, and you know you’ve got him exactly where you want him.

“Go on,” you taunt, your voice dropping lower, dripping with mockery. “Prove how much self-control you have. Or…” You trail off, letting another soft moan spill from your lips, your eyes locked on his. “You can always give up that stupid bet and come help me.”

Renjun moves before he can stop himself, the chair scraping loudly against the floor as he stands. His body betrays his mind, the bulge in his sweats unmistakable as he strides toward you, breath shallow with desperation. 

Fuck the bet. Fuck Hyuck. He just wants to fuck you. 

“Alright, fine,” he growls, “You’ve made your point. Just—just stop, let me—”

But before he can close the distance, before he can even get a touch of what he’s been missing, you press your foot firmly against his chest, halting him mid-step. His eyes widen, lips parting as he gasps, completely caught off guard by the sudden force of it. For a long moment, he stands frozen, confused.

“Hmmm, I’ve changed my mind,” you say in a low voice. “You don’t get to make the rules and then break them the second you get hard. Sit. Back. Down.”

“Y/N,” he whines, the sound ragged and desperate. His hands hover around you like he doesn’t know whether to push forward or pull back. “I thought—”

You simply smirk, leaning back into the headboard with an air of defiance, your leg still pressed against his chest, keeping him in place and giving him a perfect view of your open-spread legs. The vibrator hums between your thighs, and you can feel his gaze searing into you, his eyes flicking down to where it rests beneath your wet soaked panties.

Fucking torture.

You drag the vibrator over yourself with steady, careful motions, breath hitching as you lean into the sensation (slightly making a show of it to tease him further). “You wanted to prove you could last, didn’t you? Prove it. Watch me.” You purr. 

He groans, his head tilting back as his hands curl into tight fists, helpless and frustrated. “You’re fucking cruel,” he mutters, his voice strained, barely keeping it together.

“Am I?” you tease, your words laced with finger-licking venom. “You’ve been avoiding me for days, Renjun. Ignoring me, turning your back, all for a stupid bet with Hyuck? Now you get to feel exactly how I’ve felt.”

His jaw clenches as his hips shift, the fabric of his sweats doing nothing to hide his need. His eyes lock on yours, pleading, his chest rising and falling with erratic breaths. “Y/N, please.”

“Please what?” you taunt. “Please stop? Please let you touch me?” You press the vibrator harder against yourself, letting out a loud, shaky moan, and his knees nearly buckle as you continue, your smirk growing as you watch him unravel. 

His body trembles, a curse escaping him as he sinks back into the chair, defeated and desperate, fighting the urge to touch you, to do something, anything. Renjun’s never felt a tightness in his body like this before. His muscles are tense, every inch of him on fire, but it’s not the good kind of heat—it’s raw and painful, like his body’s been caught in a vice that won’t let go. His breath comes in sharp, ragged gasps, every shift only intensifying the ache. The throb is relentless. 

"Y/N, please," he whines desperately, the plea barely a whisper, but you hear it. He looks so broken, so beautiful, eyes fluttering closed as he tries to regain some shred of control. 

You smirk at his desperate pleas, the sound making your heart race faster. You’ve never seen him this far gone for you, and knowing you've been the one to drive him to the edge like this—it’s a rush.

You spread your legs even wider, the cool air of the room hitting you and you moan as you pull your panties down and toss them aside. He stares at you—eyes wide, face flushed, lips parted—as you slide your fingers between your slick folds. You’re so wet already, so hot, and all it takes is the combination of cool air and the vibrator on your clit to have you soaring. 

“Fuck,” you whisper, eyes fluttering as you arch against the toy in your hand. “God, I’m so close.”

He groans in response, hips shifting against the chair as he fights the urge to move, his body desperate for friction, for any kind of touch.

“Y/N, please,” he tries again, voice so thick with need. “Let me help. Please. Let me—”

You press harder, your entire body starting to tingle as you drive yourself closer to the edge. His own hips roll desperately, and you wonder how close he is too. He doesn’t even need a hand, it seems. His body’s already learning to react without stimulation—and it would be his own fault for blue balling himself for two weeks. The thought of it almost sends you over the edge, but you want to draw this out a bit longer.

“Nope,” you grunt, breathy moans escaping you as your hand speeds up. “No touching.”

His breath hitches. “Fuck, you’re so fucking cruel,” he pants, his body writhing in the chair. His face is flushed, eyes wild, and you can tell he's not far from losing it completely.

You smirk. “And you’re so fucking desperate,” you reply. “So close, aren’t you? And I haven’t even touched you.”

He nods, his hips rolling desperately as he clutches the edge of the chair, knuckles going white with tension. You can almost feel the ache in his body as he strains against himself, fighting against his own needs.

Your eyes flick to where his sweats are straining and you let out a small whimper at the sight. God, he’s so big, and you can practically imagine him thrusting against you, his cock sliding in deep with a rough, possessive motion. Fuck you’ve missed that. You gasp, your body clenching around nothing, and you swear you can feel his touch on you, all over, everywhere and nowhere at the same time.

“God,” you whisper, your hand moving the toy faster against your clit. “God, fuck—Renjun,” your voice breaks on his name, “Fuck, I’m close.”

His hips snap forward, his back bowing against the chair. “Oh fuck,” he moans, his eyes wide as they stare straight into yours. “Fuck, baby. So pretty—”

You cum with a sharp cry, your hand spasming against yourself as your body trembles through the orgasm. Renjun watches—desperate and hungry—for every second of it, just the sound of your orgasm sending his own body to the edge.

“God, yes,” he groans, eyes closing with a harsh curse. “Fuck, yes. Y/N, fuck, yes.”

You open your eyes to see him bucking in the chair, his body shaking as he stares at you—wide-eyed and panting. You watch his cum spill into his sweatpants, creating a dark, damp stain that makes your chest swell with satisfaction.

Your gaze stays locked on him—your body still twitching as your own orgasm fades—and a slow smile spreads across your face as you realise he came untouched, from just watching.

Your boyfriend sits frozen, completely caught off guard, his eyes staring blankly at his lap, cum stain splattered over his sweats. He blinks rapidly as he struggles to form coherent thoughts, his mind a mess. A long, long moment passes, and then he lets out an awkward cough, eyes darting around the room in search of an escape. There’s none. He’s just cum all over himself and can’t even blame it on someone else.

He looks mortified.

You bite your lip, a mischievous smile tugging on your face. “I’m sure Hyuck’s gonna love this.”

“Hyuck isn’t finding out,” he groans. 

You raise an eyebrow, teasing. “Oh, he will. You made a bet about not cumming for a month, and well…”

Renjun growls low in his throat, rising up and crawling onto the bed. “Exactly. I made a bet with him, and if I’m gonna lose $1,000, I might as well fuck my girlfriend properly, and cum inside her, and tell him that’s how I lost, since you wanna be such a fucking tease.”

You smile as he hovers over you, a challenging gleam in your eyes. “Oh yeah? Is that a threat?”

“No,” he murmurs. “It’s a promise.”

[ellecdc]

Okay I’m sorry I’m spamming you! But what about a Sirius and reader one where he is hitting on her but she doesn’t realize it(ya know insecurity about no one else wanting her) so she just assumes he is trying to get close to her to get to her friend so she just kinda stops him and introduces him to her friend(not showing how she is disappointed but pretending to be happy) and leaves then her friend explains her habits to Siri and so he tries harder/not his úsale antics and it all works out 🫣💕

Ps feel free to ignore any and all that you don’t want do 💕

hi sweets! thanks for your prompts and for your patience with me getting this back to you! here's a quick little fluffy blurb.

~please note: my requests are currently closed as I work through older requests~

Sirius Black x fem!reader

You weren’t even sure how you ended up at this party; you didn’t really enjoy parties, you didn’t really know these people, and you didn’t really drink – though you were certainly trying.

But you were a good friend and Elle really didn’t ask much of you, so you relented to her promise that she’d stick by your side the whole night.

Which she technically was, except that her back was currently turned to you as she hit on the Ravenclaw sitting beside her.

You were very busy pretending the inside of your nearly empty cup was quite interesting when you felt the sofa dip beside you. Sitting beside you - in all his dark-hair-pulled-back-haphazardly, leather jacket, ripped jeans and tattooed glory - was the infamous Sirius Black. 

“I don’t think I’ve seen you at one of these parties before.” He said with a smirk. “I’m Sirius.”

You breathed out a chuckle and tried to duck away from his gaze. “I know who you are, Sirius.” You murmured.

His smile only seemed to grow in your periphery as he tried to duck back into your line of sight. “And I know who you are, but usually it’s polite to introduce yourself to people at parties.”

You sighed and gave him your name, which he rewarded you with a beaming smile – sharp canines on full display.

“Are you having a good time?” He asked, leaning back casually with his arm behind you on the back of the sofa.

“Yeah.” You offered quickly and not at all convincingly, trying not to get caught staring at the tattoos poking out from the collar of his shirt.

“Oh, so you’re a liar.” He said with a smirk.

You rolled your eyes and ignored the burning in your cheeks at being a) so painfully obvious and b) caught lying.

“I hope I didn’t offend you; I bet with my luck this was your party or something.”

“Who’d you come with?” He asked instead, sounding alarm bells inside your head.

“Oh, erm, my friend Elle.” You offered plainly. His eyebrows raised slightly as he nodded.

“Oh, I know Elle; we have Herbology together, I think."

You nodded and looked to your hands. "Yeah, she's in that class."

"Do you guys hang out a lot?” He asked, sounding genuinely interested.

You hummed in acknowledgement and took a sip from your nearly room temperature drink. 

“I’m not sure I’ve ever talked to her before, mind you...” 

You decided to just cut this conversation short and get to the point, saving both you and Sirius from unnecessary pleasantries and small talk. 

You - not at all gently - shook Elle’s shoulder, interrupting her conversation with the Ravenclaw.

“Hey, you know Sirius, right?” You asked her as you stood, motioning to Sirius who was now sitting only one (now empty) seat away from her. Elle’s eyebrows furrowed but she looked over at Sirius and smiled politely. 

“Yeah, I think we have Herbology together.” She offered. 

“Perfect!” You said, feeling only slightly bitter. “I’ll give you guys some space then.” And you headed towards the drinks to refill your cup.

Sirius can honestly say that...that...had never happened to him before.

“I’m sorry...erm, what’s going on?” Elle asked him, looking between your retreating form and him.

Sirius smiled in apology and turned his gaze from you to your friend. “Uhm, I was sort of hoping you could tell me? I thought I was finally going to get a chance to make a move on your friend tonight.”

Suddenly, understanding seemed to paint Elle’s features and she let out a hearty laugh.

“That knob head.” She insulted you, though her tone was full of affection. 

Sirius laughed along, albeit awkwardly.

“I’m afraid I’m not following.” He admitted.

Elle shook her head and rolled her eyes in exasperation. “She does this. She doesn’t think anyone might possibly be interested in her, and you probably made the mistake of mentioning my name.”

Sirius felt his cheeks pink as he looked back over to the drink station where you were saying hello to Peter. 

“I just thought it would get the conversation going, you know? I love talking about my friends.” He explained. 

“You’ll have to be a little more direct with her.” Elle offered.

Sirius smirked (somewhat deviously if you asked Elle).  

“Consider it done.” He proclaimed, standing with a flourish before stalking off towards you at the drink table. 

“Now that was just cold, Y/N.” You heard Sirius bark as he entered your field of vision.

“I’m...sorry?”

“Sic’ing me on your friend back there. You know, if you didn’t want to talk to me, you could have just said so!” He lamented with an exhausted sigh.

“I-what? I did want to talk to you!”

Sirius laughed. “You could have fooled me!”

“I thought you wanted to talk to Elle!” You shouted back, slightly embarrassed to note that a few of Sirius’ friends and other party goers were turning their attention to you.

Sirius’ face softened slightly as he smiled at you. “I’m sure she’s very nice, but she wasn’t who I was trying to flirt with tonight.”

You felt your heart trying to escape through your throat and worked hard to swallow it back down. “She wasn’t?” You all but whispered.

“No. And, she told me to tell you that you are a knob head.”

A laugh was surprised out of you as you turned to make eye contact with Elle, who shot you a wink and an encouraging thumbs up. 

“You really weren’t trying to get me to introduce you to her?”

“No!”

“You were...trying to flirt with me?”

He rolled his eyes but kept his answer short. “Yes.” 

You laughed in both embarrassment and excitement at the idea that the school’s heartthrob was flirting with you.

“Well then, Sirius, I’m very sorry I left you to the dogs back there.”

Sirius laughed hard at that, making you feel like you were missing out on some inside joke. “That’s okay, dollface. I know how you can make it up to me.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Hogsmeade, this weekend. As a date in case that wasn’t clear.” He said, leaning against the table resting one hand near yours as he stared into your eyes.

“With you?” 

His eyebrows furrowed before he realized you were fucking with him.

“Yes, with me. Merlin, you make a bloke work hard, eh?” He chuckled, daring to brush your fingers with his from their place on the table.

“Alright. Hogsmeade, this weekend, as a date, with you. Sounds fair enough.” You repeated.

“I’d sure hope so. It was absolute torture sitting with Elle over there.” He scoffed sarcastically.

“You wanker!” You heard Elle shout from across the room. 

[xspeter]

꥟ part of the “dancing with our hands tied” collection, Luke Castellan x Apollo!reader

꥟ IN WHICH… You discover that everyone at camp can tell.

꥟ W.C: 3k

Capture the Flag is a camp staple. It’s practically what makes the camp what it is! The battle strategy, the team work, the training.. it was perfect.

“Explain to your idiot boyfriend that we should get the Aphrodite cabin because he already has the advantage!”

“Just because we have more campers doesn’t mean we have the advantage! How many times do I need to say that?”

Clarisse and Luke have this argument nearly every week. Always fighting about who gets what cabin, which battle strategies were ethical and which weren’t, that whole ordeal.

You just wish they’d stop including you in it. Especially when you’re trying to clean a little boy's scraped knees!

You sigh, shooting the Demeter child a sorry look, but he doesn’t notice. Instead, he’s got a huge smile on his face as he watches Luke and Clarisse bicker like siblings. “They’re silly!” He giggles.

You smile, placing a blue band-aid on his knee and helping him off the bed. “Yep. Sooo silly.”

He doesn’t spare you a second glance as he leaves, and you’re partially grateful and partially offended. You don’t linger on the thought though, instead focusing the rest of your attention on the two fuming teens.

“You already have half the cabins in camp! Just because our cabins bigger doesn’t mean you get to hog everyone!”

“We aren’t hogging everyone-”

You rub the bridge of your nose, annoyance building in your temples. Are they aware that this is still technically your place of work? You don’t hang out in the infirmary on the daily just for fun. As Apollo Head Counselor it was literally your job to be there, and they were just making it harder.

“Okay, guys, calm down-”

They don’t listen, instead just getting louder and louder. Some of the patients are starting to notice, and seeing as majority of them are younger kids, it makes them nervous. And nervous kids in medical settings? Never a good mix.

“Luke, you’re literally so stupid it shocks me that you’re even still alive.”

“Right, because I understand basic math and you don't, I'm the stupid one. Makes complete sense.”

You sigh, glancing at a little girl that has started fighting the medicine your brother was trying to give her. It’s already been a struggle to even get her to lay down, and they had disrupted any progress you guys had made.

“Can you guys stop yelling, please?” You strain, watching as another little boy begins to cry when Clarisse practically screams fuck you! at Luke.

Again, they ignore you, and you’re starting to wonder if they can even hear anything you're saying. You wouldn’t be surprised if not.

“You know what, Castellan? Why don’t you take your math, and shove it right up your-”

“Okay!” You intervene, grabbing them both by their wrists and dragging them out of the building. Honestly, you’re still not sure they’re processing anything you’re saying or doing, because the entire time you lead them outside they glare at each other like two children.

Once you’ve gotten a safe distance from the patients and any prying ears, you smack both of them upside the head. Clarisse yelps while Luke’s hand immediately goes to soothe the spot.

“Are you guys deaf or just plain selfish?” You ask, nostrils practically flaring. “I mean, did you not notice the patients in there or did you just not care? Because to me it seems like you just didn’t care!”

They both have the decency to look at least a little bit ashamed, and for some reason it almost makes you feel bad. You're not sure if it's because of the genuine guilt on both of their faces, or just your constant need to please. You’re betting on the latter.

Luke swallows, sharing a glance with Clarisse before both of their gazes fall to the floor. “We’re sorry.” Clarisse mumbles, rubbing her arm uncomfortably. To most, Clarisse was rude and rarely ever apologized, but that was just to the people she didn’t know.

If you really took the time to know her, you’d discover she was just as lost as the rest of you. And underneath that hard exterior, there was a sweet girl begging to be found. You just had to be willing to look for it.

Luke nods in agreement, “Really, really sorry.”

Your eyes dart between the two of them, arms crossing over your chest. Some part of you wants to continue raging on them, you feel like it’ll be a bit therapeutic. But, the more rational part of you knows how serious they take the game, and sometimes they just get too into it.

“It’s fine,” You mumble, sucking in a breath and dropping your arms to your sides again. “Just, explain to me again whatever it is you guys are mad about.”

They both go to speak at the same time, and you realize you should’ve been more specific with your wording. You put a hand up to stop them, and quickly say, “Without arguing.”

You don’t miss Clarisse’s eye roll, but you choose not to call her out on it. Luke glances at the dark haired girl, and she gestures for him to speak a bit more aggressively than you think was necessary.

He sighs, turning to you with a slight smirk. It was his signature one, the one that practically dropped trouble. “Basically, Clarisse wants the Aphrodite Cabin because they have more campers, but she already has more than half the cabins in camp. So, I think we should be able to keep the Aphrodite cabin.”

You nod, “Which cabins does Clarrise have?”

The Ares child answers, “Demeter, Hephaestus, Dionysus, and Ares- obviously.”

You assumed that meant the other cabins were on Luke’s team, and if that was true, that meant he had the majority of the bigger cabins. Which meant that Clarrise should get Aphrodite.

But, the puppy dog look on Luke’s face makes your heart skip a beat, and you wonder if maybe you could bend your morals for him. Just this once. It was just a game after all, right?

Unfortunately, Clarrise has this knowing look in her eyes, like she knows what you’re thinking. It makes you feel small, so you do your best to seem as nonchalant as possible and say, “Then Clarrise should get it. But, maybe give Luke Dionysus? Since there’s only two of them.”

A huge grin overtakes Clarisse’s face, and she sticks her tongue out at Luke. “Ha!” She shouts, pointing a finger in Luke’s face. “I knew your girlfriend would agree with me.”

Luke rolls his eyes, a slight blush overtaking his cheeks at the word girlfriend. “Yeah, yeah. Whatever. We’re still gonna beat you.”

Clarisse just shrugs him off, shooting you a wink as she walks away. Your friendship with Clarisse definitely was unexpected considering your clashing personalities, but you loved the girl like a sister.

Luke sighs dramatically, bottom lip jutting out a bit as he crosses his arms over his chest. “You really couldn’t have just given them to me?” You snort, you know he’s not really angry with you, which is why you roll your eyes with a grin.

“Sadly, no.” You shrug, “Besides, we both know you’ll be able to win without them.” It was true, Luke’s quick thinking and obvious knack for battle strategy set him up for success. But, it was also pretty well known majority of the kids in the Aphrodite Cabin would rather spend their time braiding hair and gazing at themselves in puddles. So, you didn’t think it was that hard of a loss.

Luke chuckles, “Why? Because they’d rather stare at their reflection then actually play the game?”

You pretend to think, scratching your chin and gazing up at the sky. “Um, yeah, exactly my point.”

He snorts in response, allowing you to lead him back into the infirmity silently. You almost find it strange how he doesn’t even question you. Just… follows. “I didn’t think you’d be so stereotypical, Sweetheart.” He jokes.

You shrug, “What can I say? I’m full of surprises.”

Luke watches as you push the door open, immediately going to greet a waiting patient. She’s a little bit older, probably around Percy’s age, but you still talk to her gently and kindly. Still treat her like a little kid, but not in a condescending way.

Luke’s not sure how you manage it. It makes his heart flutter in his chest for reasons he can’t explain.

“Yeah.” He sighs, eyes trailing your every move. “You are.”

꥟

You didn’t particularly enjoy being stuck in the medical tent during capture the flag. Not because you wanted to actually play the game, no, but because you were completely alone.

Some of your siblings always offered to stay behind with you, but you never let them. They’d be miserable staying with you, even if they wouldn’t admit it. Thus, here you sat, alone.

It wasn’t all bad. You enjoyed the peace, a rare thing to get at Camp Half-Blood, and most of the campers were too hell-bent on winning to even bother stopping by. Which meant you got to enjoy the unusual serenity all by yourself.

The birds sing hymns that you don’t know the words to, and the leaves dance together like professional ballerinas. It’s all very beautiful, really.

At least it is until Percy Jackson rips through the trees, a wide smile on his face and his chest heaving. His eyes dart around the opening, before they finally land on you.

You're sat outside the tent, jean shorts surely stained an unflattering green color and shins covered in shards of grass.

“Oh! Good, you’re here.” Percy breathes, jogging over to you. You stand, doing your best to discreetly wipe at your butt.

“Yep. I’m..” You let out a sigh, “still here.”

Percy just sniffs, giggling a bit and bouncing on his toes. He looks like a little boy who’d just been told he could get his favorite candy from the store. “He got it.” He says.

You raise an eyebrow, “Who got what?”

“Luke got the flag.” He grins, “I’m supposed to wait here to make sure no Ares campers cross the threshold.”

You nod. The makeshift infirmary was placed directly on the invisible threshold, but you found it a little weird Luke would send Percy to lookout for incoming Ares campers here when majority of them would probably be somewhere deeper in the woods.

You knew that, and surely Luke knew that, which meant..

You give Percy a sympathetic look. It’s not his fault he gets… distracted so easily when playing the game, but you also understood how seriously Luke took this. It just sucked he resorted to lying to the kid instead of coming up with something else for him to do.

“I see,” You mumble, eyeing a small cut on Percy’s knee. “What if I patch that up while you wait?” You ask, gesturing to the cut with your chin.

Percy shakes his head, eyes never leaving the woods. “Can’t. Have to make sure no one crosses.”

You sigh, chewing on your bottom lip. Percy could be so stubborn, that’s probably why he and Annabeth got along so well. “I’m sure it’ll be fine. Besides, it’s so quiet you’ll be able to hear them if they do. Just come inside, alright?”

Finally, Percy tears his gaze away from the open area to you, and he’s got that familiar glint in his eye. Percy’s smart, he always had been. And you weren’t the best liar. “What do you know?” He asks suspiciously, pointing an accusing finger at you.

You throw your hands up in surrender, shaking your head. “All I know is that you’re bleeding and it’s my job to take care of that, okay? So let me do my job.”

You can see the inner battle in Percy. He wants to stay out and do what Luke told him, but he also knows the cut on his knee stings like hell. He sighs, lowering his hand and glancing cautiously to the clearing. “Alright… but, promise if we hear anything you’ll let me go back out?”

You smile, “I promise.”

Seemingly satisfied, Percy allows you to lead him inside and begin your work. The floor in the tent was still grass, which meant the chair he was sitting in was quite unstable on the ground.

He rocked on it, eyes going wide when it leaned just a bit too far back. You snort when he does, and he sheepishly rubs his hand on the back of his neck.

You begin your work with no words exchanged between you, instead humming a familiar tune.

“That’s the song you sing at the campfire, right? Here comes the sun?”

You nod, glancing up at him. Percy smirks, hands messing with his helmet. “Luke said that was his favorite song, and I could never really understand why because it’s just… it feels odd to me for someone like him to like that song. But I think I understand why now.”

You’d like to pretend that Percy’s statement doesn’t make you go pink in the face, but it does. Luke said that was his favorite song? Of course, it didn’t automatically mean it was his favorite song because of you, but… it was nice to imagine, right?

“He did?” You ask, clearing your throat and trying to be as causal as possible. “And why do you think you know why? It could just be because it’s a catchy song.”

Percy shakes his head, “Nah. Trust me, it’s definitely not just because it’s catchy. It’s cause-”

The deafening sound of footsteps interrupts the both of you, and you both share a look before Percy is darting out of the tent and outside. You follow closely behind, a fresh pack of band-aids still in your hands.

Luke is leading a chase, with a giant red flag in his hands and a wide grin on his face. Dozens of campers follow him. Percy runs to them, jumping up and down and screeching something you can’t make out. Everyone is laughing, grinning. Everyone except for Luke.

His eyes look over the scene, looking for something you’re not sure of. It’s not until they land on you that it clicks. He was looking for you.

Instantly, he shoves the flag over to some unsuspecting kid and rushes over to you. It’s such an exhilarating feeling, being the person he looks for. You aren’t sure when that had happened, or what you had even done to deserve it- you just know you’ll thank The Gods everyday for allowing it.

Luke’s arms wrap around your waist, engulfing you in a bone-crushing hug. Instantly, your senses are overrun by everything Luke. You can feel him, smell him, practically taste him with how close he is. It’s too much and not enough all at the same time.

Your arms wrap around his neck, dropping the pack of band-aids in the grass and standing on your toes. You grin into his neck, “I knew you’d win.”

Luke snorts, giving you one final squeeze and backing away, but his hands remain at your waist. It makes you feel faint. “It was nothing, really.” He says with a shrug.

You furrow your brows, unconvinced. You know Luke is more than proud of his accomplishment, so why was he acting so easy going right now?

“Is that so?” You ask, swaying on your feet. “So, you aren’t going to be bragging to Clarisse for the next week about how you beat her?”

He scoffs, shaking his head. “Oh, no, of course I am. But, I can’t say that in front of a pretty girl can I? Gotta play it smooth.” He squeezes your waist as he says it, and your cheeks instantly fluff. A pretty girl. He was calling you a pretty girl.

Compliments from Luke were hardly rare, but he never said them in front of so many prying eyes. And it’s then that you notice everyone staring at the two of you, most all have knowing smirks on their faces, but some look on in jealousy. You hate to admit that it almost makes you prideful.

You were the only one Luke ran too- the one he looked for. That had to mean something, didn’t it?

You look away from him, rolling your eyes and shoving at him playfully. “Shut up, you flirt.”

He pretends to look hurt, giving you his best puppy dog eyes and grasping at his chest. “Oh, how you wound me!”

You giggle and open your mouth to respond, but Clarisse's familiar screech of anger interrupts you. “Where is he?”

You raise your brows, watching as Luke winces. While he would be claiming bragging rights for the rest of the week, being around her right now definitely wasn’t the best idea.

You suck in a breath, whistling lowly. “I think you’d better run.”

Luke’s lips thin into a line, tilting his head. “Yeah. Probably.” But, he doesn’t move. Instead, he just stares down at you. You raise your eyebrows in confusion, “Are you going to go?” You ask.

Luke grins slyly, “Yeah, just one more thing..”

It’s then that you feel the familiar warmth of Luke’s lips on your cheek, suspiciously close to your mouth. But, just as soon as he was there, he was gone. Running off and leaving you flustered and alone.

Your hands intertwine in front of you, a large cheesy grin on your face. You turn and begin walking back to the tent to clean up, but everyone’s eyes on you stops you. You glance down at your clothes, and then feel your face, checking for something- anything.

When you don’t find anything, you let out a nervous laugh. “What…?”

Everyone shares a look, one that you know all too well. You let out a groan, hands running through your hair, “It’s not like that!”

Percy shakes his head, “Yeah, okay. Of course it’s not.”

You just roll your eyes and storm into the tent. They were seeing things that just weren’t there! Luke was your best friend, and it was normal for best friends to be affectionate!

Hugs, compliments, cheek kisses… there was nothing else going on. Luke was just your friend being happy to see you.

That was all.

taglist: @apolloscastellan @ddarling-ddearest-ddead

[slut4thebroken]

The Bet

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Pairing | Stepdad!Jackson Rippner x Tommy Shelby x reader

Summary | Your stepdad makes a bet with Tommy.

Warnings | Smut, dubcon, sharing, kissing, praise, innocence kink, technically incest, barely legal lmao, I need psychological help.

Words | 1.1 k

Notes | This was originally a request that I got back in March lol but I’m using it for this cause I can🫶 Also I need to def edit this again so I’m sorry if it’s bad lmao

Ao3 link | <3

Masterlist

Kinktober | day 8: sharing

“Mr. Shelby and I made a bet… Unfortunately, I lost.” 

“Oh… What was the bet?” You asked timidly. 

“You.” Tommy said with the barest hint of a smirk on his lips. Your eyes widened in shock and you waited for them to explain. “But it seems your daddy is a little protective of you…” 

“Cause I know you, Tommy. I’m not leaving her alone with you.” Jackson scoffed. 

“Regardless…” He continued, not bothering with a reply. “That means I get to fuck you while dear ole dad watches.”

“What?” You choked out, looking at your stepdad and waiting for him to say this was all just an elaborate prank or something… But that’s not what he said at all. 

“The only options are with or without me present. Either way, Tommy won the bet fair and square. At least if I’m here I can make sure he doesn’t go too rough on you.”  

“But, I- I don’t…” You whimpered, eyes already tearing up. 

“Are you a virgin, sweetheart?” Tommy asked gently, stepping forward and brushing the back of his finger over your cheek as he studied your face. You nodded and your bottom lip started trembling. “Aren’t you just the sweetest little thing…” He cooed, then glanced at Jackson. “I’m surprised you haven’t tried out her cunt yet.” 

“She just turned 18 last month, Tommy.” He scoffed. “I’m a bad person, but I’m not that bad.” Tommy looked back at you with a small smirk. 

“Shame… Because now I get to be the first one to use her little pussy.” He seemed absolutely delighted by the fact and your whole body started trembling in fear. “I can already tell you’re going to be such a good girl.” He said quietly, leaning closer to you. “Maybe even good enough to take us both, hm?” 

You let out a choked sob and squeezed your eyes shut, feeling completely helpless. It’s not like you can ask Jackson to make this stop… He already made it very clear that this is happening whether you want it to or not. 

“Tell you what, since I get to use her cunt first, why don’t you take her first kiss?” He grabbed your cheeks in one hand and turned you to face your stepdad. “I’m feeling rather generous tonight.” Jackson stepped closer and Tommy let go of your face as he backed away. Once he was in front of you, he gently cupped your cheek and brushed his thumb over your bottom lip. You stared up at him with glossy eyes, silently pleading for mercy. 

“Fuck, don’t look at me like that.” He groaned, voice low and raspy, as his gaze dragged all over your face. “I’ll make sure he goes easy on you, don’t worry.” He promised, not calming you at all.

You stiffened when he leaned forward, unable to do anything but watch as he slowly approached. His lips brushed yours before finally taking you into a kiss. You let out a soft whimper and his hand snaked around to the back of your head, keeping you from pulling away. Letting out a soft gasp when his tongue brushed your lips, he used that opportunity to deepen the kiss, licking into your mouth, making it even sloppier. After another moment, he finally pulled back, but kept his face close to yours as both of you panted. 

“You’re such a good girl.” He cooed and you blushed at the praise. “Fucking perfect… I hate that I have to share you tonight.” It was like a bucket of cold water was thrown on your head as you suddenly remembered what was about to happen. 

“My turn.” Tommy said firmly, stepping closer again. Jackson reluctantly moved away, giving the other man enough room to grab your hair and roughly turn you to face him. You gasped at the pain on your scalp, and then again when his other hand settled on your lower back, pulling you into his body as he captured your lips in a kiss. 

Snaking his hand down, he squeezed your ass over your dress, pulling you even closer until you could feel his bulge digging into your stomach. You whined in response, not used to being touched like this, or feeling something so crude, and he let out a low chuckle before moving back. 

“Y’know… I bet your daddy’s been wanting to do this for a long time.” He said quietly, smirking a little. “Between you and me, I think he lost on purpose.” He mused, talking in a teasing stage whisper.

Your bottom lip continued trembling and you glanced at Jackson before looking back at Tommy, feeling tears brimming in your eyes. 

“Oh, don’t cry, sweetheart. If you get me all worked up, I might not be able to be gentle.” He mused. You let out a choked sob, but quickly tried to stifle it because of his warning, which seemed to please him a lot. “So obedient…” He murmured, looking over you with a small smirk. “You’ve always been a good girl, haven’t you? Always so trusting and naive…” You swallowed nervously as you stared up at him, unconsciously trying to move away but being unable to because of his hand on your hair and your ass. 

“Now,” His hand let go to start petting your hair as his gaze shifted between your eyes and lips, “I won the bet fair and square. So you’re going to be a good girl and let me claim my prize right?” 

You bit your lip and looked over at your stepdad who nodded, telling you to agree. “Yes…” You whispered, looking back at Tommy. 

“Good. I was hoping you’d say that.” He smiled, then took a step back, letting his hands drop to his sides. “Strip. Let your daddy and I get a good look at what we’re working with.” His smile turned into a smirk and you looked between them nervously, hesitating. 

“Do as he says, sweetheart.” Jackson urged gently. 

“Be a good girl and maybe I’ll even give you an orgasm or two. Would you like that?” Tommy asked, making your cheeks heat up. You’ve heard the word before, but you’ve never actually experienced it yourself. 

“I- I don’t…” You swallowed thickly and averted your gaze, making Tommy chuckle quietly. 

“Christ, Rippner, where'd you find such an innocent little thing?” He scoffed in amused disbelief and your blush darkened in response. 

“Her mom had her in Catholic school.” He explained with a small shrug. You’ve always been a little embarrassed about your upbringing and the way it made you different from a lot of other girls your age. 

Tommy hummed in acknowledgment, then reached out to grab your chin and turn you back to him. “You don’t want to disappoint your daddy, do you?” He cooed mockingly, brushing his thumb over your bottom lip. You glanced at Jackson again before shaking your head. “Then be a good girl and do as you're told.” 

[unfinishedslurs]

matchmaking gone wrong (steddie)

“So,” Murray says, smarmy little smirk in place. Steve kind of hates him. “How long have you two been dancing around each other?”

“What?”

“What?”

“Oh, come on, now,” he says. “Everyone can see it. Or, well, maybe they can’t, but I can. Small town boys, both fighting against the odds. Alternate dimensions bring people together in the strangest ways, don’t they?”

“Hey, now,” Steve objects, shooting a panicked glance next to him. Eddie hasn’t moved a muscle since Murray opened his big mouth. His pose reminds Steve of a frightened rabbit, frozen in the eye of a snake. 

“Hey, now,” Murray mimics. “Real eloquent, Steve.” He says Steve like he’s saying something else. If he’s not careful, Steve is going to punch his fucking teeth in.“I gotta say, when I met you, you managed to take me by surprise. I really thought you were gonna be different. Small town rich boy, right? Big house, no parents, thought I knew the type. But you’ve managed to turn it on its head, haven’t you? Still, you’re lonely. Must be nice, having all those kids in your house. Less empty with them around. And Eddie here, too. I bet it’s real nice with him around.”

“Dude,” Steve says, prickling. He doesn’t know what eloquent means, or what that has to do with anything, but he really does not like what this guy is putting down. What business does this washed up mess of a conspiracy theorist have digging into Steve’s personal life? He chances another look at Eddie, who has unfrozen in favor of straightening up and glaring at Murray. 

“What the fuck do you know?” he spits, vicious in the way he only ever is when he’s defending someone. Steve is touched, really. 

“I know a lot,” Murray says, smile growing ever wider. “Like that you sleep in his bed, even though there’s…what, three perfectly good guest rooms here?”

“Two,” Steve corrects automatically. “The other one is Max’s.” Unofficially, of course, but she sleeps here enough that everyone else knows she’s claimed it. Technically it’s one and a half, given that Dustin is slowly taking over the one next to hers, but Ms. Henderson is actually responsible so he only stays the night occasionally. Robin just sleeps in Steve’s bed with them.

He realizes his mistake when Murray’s smile grows even wider. “Two!” He exclaims. “Two guest bedrooms, and yet you sleep in his bed, wake up next to him, end up with his pillow lines on your face. I bet it’s nice, huh? To have him soothe your nightmares, to fall asleep knowing he’s there. We like Steve, indeed. How could a man possibly resist? Tell me, Eddie, is that handkerchief in your pocket just for show? I’d have thought masochism was more your style.”

“Hey!” Steve barks. Eddie jumps next to him, and Steve puts his hand over his unthinkingly. Murray’s eyes track the movement, but Steve speaks before he can open his mouth. 

“Not cool, man,” he says firmly. Eddie’s hand is trembling under his, and Steve thinks that Murray is lucky that he cares more about comforting Eddie than he does about punching the smug look off his fucking face. 

“What’s not cool?” Murray asks. “Telling you two to get your shit together, for the betterment of us all?”

“You barely fucking know us,” Steve snaps. “There’s no ‘betterment of us all,’ Jesus. You can’t just…you can’t…” he lowers his voice, like he can protect Eddie from hearing it if he tries hard enough. “You can’t just out people, man. You should fucking know better.”

Eddie’s frozen again. Steve doesn’t look at him, instead staring Murray down like a challenge. The man does lose steam with that, wilting like a weed in the heat. “Ah,” he says. “I…ah, hell, I thought you knew.”

“What I know doesn’t mean shit if he’s not the one who told me,” Steve says. Eddie makes a sound, slowly sliding his hand out from under Steve’s. Steve lets him, resisting the urge to grab it back. He knows Eddie won’t run away from him, even if he wants to. “And what if you’d been wrong about me being cool, huh? Seriously man, aren’t you supposed to be smart or something? Act like it.”

Murray opens his mouth again, but Eddie interjects. “As fascinating and eye opening as this has been,” he says, clapping his shaking hands together, “I need to be gone, like, before this conversation ever happened. I appreciate your attempt to get me into golden boy’s pants over here, really, but, uh, yeah. I think the whole being straight thing kind of puts a damper on that, don’t you?”

“You’re straight?” Steve blurts out, hurt and embarrassed all at once. Well, shit, there goes whatever Steve thought they were hurtling towards. And after Steve just confessed he thought Eddie was gay. Is that discrimination? He’s going to kill Robin, dammit, she’s the one who pointed out Eddie’s hanky in the first place. 

“What?” Eddie asks. “No, you are.”

“I am?”

“Yes!”

“Uh,” Steve says, extremely confused. Is Eddie coming out as straight for him? He’s pretty sure this is supposed to go, like, the opposite way. “Since when?”

“Since—“ Eddie’s mouth drops open. “I thought since always, Harrington, what the fuck?” 

“Me what the fuck?” Steve sputters. “You what the fuck! You thought I was straight?”

“Of course I did!” Eddie throws his hands up. “You’re, like, the epitome of straight jock!”

“Oh, yeah,” Steve says. “Because my painted nails and affinity for sucking cock scream heterosexual man.”

Affinity might be a stretch given that he’s only ever sucked one dick in his entire life, but hey, a little embellishment never hurts. He wasn’t awful at it. The painted nails weren’t actually his choice, either, thanks to El’s killer puppy eyes, but still. He’s been blatantly flirting with Eddie for months now. Would it kill him to notice?

Eddie doesn’t seem to have a response for this, mouth opening and closing without sound. 

“Well,” Murray says at last. Steve and Eddie both jump, having completely forgotten about him. “I guess you needed my help after all.”

“Shut the fuck up,” Steve says, rounding on him. “I don’t need your help for jack-fucking-shit, alright? I am a grown-ass man. I am not repressed, I am not in denial, and I am not thanking you for this. You messed up my plan!”

“Your plan?” Eddie asks. 

“Your plan,” Murray repeats, amused. 

“Yes, my plan,” he hisses. “You’re not smarter than everyone else just because you don’t like the government, asshole. None of us like the fucking government, we’re just not about to go off the rails and become total shut-ins about it. We fucking get it, you’re lonely and have no friends. We don’t need you to tell us our own business for us, okay? You want to talk about getting help? Go to a fucking AA meeting and leave us alone.”

The skin around Murray’s eyes tightens. Steve might feel bad, if it weren’t for the fact that he’d fucking outed Eddie. Mistake or not, it doesn’t matter that Steve already knew if Eddie wasn’t ready to fucking tell him. 

Eddie’s hand on his arm stops him from saying much worse. 

He doesn’t turn around, just stares Murray down like a warning. Murray looks back at him, seemingly unimpressed, but Steve can see shame in the line of his shoulders. There’s apology in his eyes when he breaks Steve’s gaze to glance at Eddie. 

He’s not a bad guy, Steve knows. Joyce tells them fondly about how he helped her and Hopper get their shit together. How they’d both be Russian chow ten times over if it wasn’t for him. Nancy, too, has some good things to say about the guy. He was the one who helped her get word out about Barb’s death. He helped her get with Jonathan too, even if that didn’t exactly work out. 

And it’s not like he blames Murray for Nancy cheating on him. She’s her own person, and makes her own decisions, even if they’re shitty, hurtful ones that he’s still not sure he’ll ever fully get over. 

Jonathan said it best, once. He’s weird, and nosy, and annoying, and I don’t really like him. But I think he really just wants to help, in any way he can. Plus he’s a really good cook. 

Steve breaks.

“Just get out of my house, man,” he says, scrubbing a hand over his face. “Joyce will be happy to host you for the night, they’ve got a spare room there. Tell her my house was too ‘rich kid’ for you, or something. But you’re not staying here anymore.”

Murray nods, accepting this at face value. He gets up from the table, pausing to snag the vodka. “For what it’s worth, I am sorry,” he offers, and disappears before either of them can reply. 

“So,” Eddie says, after a considerable length of silence. His voice shakes slightly. “That was, uh, enlightening.” 

He huffs a tired laugh. “That’s one word for it,” he says, finally turning to look Eddie in the eye. He’s shifty, eyes flitting around the room, hands playing out guitar chords against the counter. Steve takes one in hand. 

Eddie stills, finally looking at his face. Steve won’t force eye contact, but he needs to know Eddie’s focusing on him and not whatever shitty thoughts are flying across his mind.

“I’m sorry,” he offers quietly. “I didn’t know he’d try that shit with us, when I told Hopper he could stay here.”

Eddie resumes his finger chords. “It’s not your fault he’s an asshole.”

“I know,” he says. “Still, that wasn’t how I wanted this to go.”

“Go? ‘Go’ what? What’s going?”

Steve shuts his eyes. “Us. I wasn’t going to say anything yet. Not until after you told me you were…”

“Oh,” Eddie says quietly. “Right.”

“Yeah.”

“I can get out of your hair, man, if it makes you uncomfortable.” 

“What?” Steve‘s eyes fly open. “No! I’m not kicking you out, what the fuck?”

“You’re not?”

“Literally what part of that conversation made you think that’s where this was headed?” He demands. 

“I dunno, man,” Eddie confesses. “Good things don’t really happen to people like me.”

“And I’m a good thing?” Steve tries to joke, raising an eyebrow. 

Eddie doesn’t take the bait, just briefly meets Steve’s eyes and lowers his voice. “Steve, you’re, uh. You’re kind of one of the best things to ever happen to me.”

“Oh,” falls weakly from his lips. 

“Shit, was that too much? That was totally too much, sorry, I’m not good at this. You can totally kick me out now, fuck, that’s so embarrassing—“

Steve kisses him. 

“Honestly, I’m not that worried about it,” Eddie says, laying with his feet on Steve’s pillow and head hanging off the bed. 

“Really?”

“I mean, like, it was a dick thing to do, but what’s he gonna do? Tell the whole town? They all know about me anyway.”

Steve kind of shrugs at this, because as much as he wishes it weren’t true he’s right. He’s walked past fag sharpied on Eddie’s locker enough times to know that unlike Steve, he never really had the luxury of hiding it. 

“People always just knew,” he tells Steve. “Don’t know how, don't know why. I’m not sure I‘ve ever actually come out to anyone except Wayne, and that was more of a bitter, self-loathing explosion than anything. It backfired, obviously. Instead of kicking me out, he told me he loved me and I cried so hard I threw up. Totally embarrassing. But even with Wayne…I didn’t have to. It’s like it was tattooed on my forehead, or something. Too soft, too close with other boys, too obvious. So I leaned into it. Learned to fight, ‘cause getting beat up might end in something worse. Let my freak flag fly, let ‘em focus on the DND and the devil worshiping because somehow that was better than being queer.”

Steve, who’d also known about Eddie long before Eddie had told him, bites his tongue. 

“I think he’s safe,” Eddie finishes with a nod. “He really did seem like he wouldn’t have said anything, if he’d known I hadn’t told you. Which is hilarious to me, by the way, because I’d just kind of assumed I didn’t have to so you might have just waited forever. Plus I think he and Hopper have, like, a vibe.”

Steve chokes. “A vibe?”

“They’re not fucking,” he clarifies, “but they have fucked, yanno?”

“You’re fucking with me, right?”

“Nah, man. I bet that’s why Hopper asked us to host him, instead of offering up his spare room immediately. Your ex and your new squeeze living together?” He whistles lowly. “Awkward.” “I don’t want to know this,” Steve declares, flipping face first into his pillow. He pushes Eddie’s stinky feet away from his face, ignoring his squawk. “Why would you give me information? Now I have to look Hopper in the eye knowing that his taste in men is Murray.”

[suzukiblu]

New WIP start behind the cut, based off a request from @itty-bitty-fun: “I'd definitely love to see your take on micro/macro”.  . . . you know that thing when a kink is not really your kink and you’re like neutral on its existence, but then, like . . . someone asks you to actually consider it, and then you get way too invested in the process? no reason. asking for a friend.

“This is mortifying,” Kon mutters into his hands, trying not to die of said mortification. 

“Kinda reminds me of my Barbie phase, honestly,” Cassie says with a smirk, offering him the set of doll clothes she just got back from digging up. He glowers disgruntledly up at her, but it’s technically an improvement on the spare ace bandages from Tim’s utility belt that he’s currently wrapped up in. Kon is not actually a self-conscious guy and wouldn’t normally care about anyone seeing him naked, but normally he is two hundred and fifty pounds of half-Kryptonian muscle and not the size of a goddamn Barbie doll, as Cassie has so helpfully and mercilessly seen fit to point out. 

Actually, probably a Barbie doll would be bigger. Like, Kon did not have a “playing with dolls” phase for several very obvious reasons, but he’s pretty sure they’re bigger than he is right now. He’s more, like, action figure-sized. Which, obviously he’d rather be an action figure than a fucking Barbie, given the option, but also Barbies are bigger than action figures, and–and–

Stupid magic.

“You’re really small, wow,” Bart observes as Kon snatches the doll clothes and eyes them sourly. “I bet we could fit you in Tim’s coffee cup. Or maybe even his utility belt. Or maybe–” 

“Shut up, Bart!” Kon snaps, because he really doesn’t like how this feels, actually, and it’s actually kind of freaking him out, and he probably is small enough to fit in Tim’s stupid coffee cup and that’s just not something he really wants to be a thing right now! At all! Or ever! 

Also, the doll clothes are big and shapeless and awkward and came off a stupid cheesy “legally distinct” knockoff Troia doll, which means they’re also sparkly and kind of itch, it turns out, while also being stupidly flimsy and so paper-thin they're practically see-through. He feels like an idiot in them, and doesn’t even wanna think about how stupid he must look. 

Fuck his stupid fucking life. 

Look, Kon’s a big guy, okay? He’s used to being a big guy. Used to being the meat shield and the tank and the one who gets between everybody and the problem. Like this . . . 

What the fuck use is he, like this? 

The spell’s temporary. It’s not permanent or dangerous or anything like that. It’ll be gone by this time tomorrow, if not sooner. 

But it’s not gone yet, and Kon’s no use to anybody like this. 

“Could put you in a dollhouse for the night,” Cassie hums, giving him an amused smile. “Tuck you into bed like a baby doll.” 

“I actually hate you,” he informs her, and she laughs, because she’s the worst. 

“Actually I really like that idea,” Bart says musingly, tapping his mouth. “You grifin’ never let us take care of you.” 

“I still have TTK,” Kon reminds him threateningly, and Bart just cocks his head, looking him over speculatively. 

“So you’re not as strong, but you're still pretty invulnerable?” he asks. 

“Who fucking cares?!” Kon snaps in frustration. He’s still no use right now either way. 

“I just wanna know if we could fuck you like this and not have to worry about hurting you,” Bart replies reasonably, reaching out to stroke a fingertip down his chest. Kon–sputters, kind of, and reflexively recoils from it. 

And also, like. Burns alive, kind of. 

“I–like this?” he sputters. “I'm like, fucking doll-sized, Bart!” 

“Yeah, I know,” Bart agrees. “Like the perfect size to pick up and play with.” 

“Burning alive” is actually not a strong enough phrase for what Kon is doing right now. 

“You already let us dress you up,” Bart points out, poking at the strap of his borrowed clothes. Kon metaphorically vaporizes into atoms and literally dodges away from the poking. 

“I dressed myself,” he says defensively, mortified by the idea of–what exactly does Bart even have in mind? He's not big enough to do anything for any of them. His dick is definitely not big enough to do anything for any of them. Like–how would that even–how would they even–? 

“Hmmm,” Cassie says, and then just puts both her hands around him and picks him up, because she is again the worst, and–well, and then she flips him around, unzips the front of her shirt, and sits him down to recline right on top of her bare cleavage, his head resting back against her breastbone, which is . . . fine, alright. Like–he’ll live with that. Getting snuggled up to a pair of tits big enough to sleep on is not the worst imposition of his life, especially when said tits belong to the most Wonder-ful member of their whole weird nebulously-defined team situationship thing. 

But also, it’s embarrassing, because what the fuck is he supposed to do for her like this? 

[hmslusitania]

For the prompts pretty please, thank you :)

#31 &/or #24

31 (I’ll take that bet) &/or 24 (“They said you were so cute!” “That’s not what I said.”) I went with "I'll take that bet" and used it as an excuse to further my "Tim and Steph's relationship is so much more important to me now that it's not endgame" agenda*

Steph considers him with narrowed eyes across the table in their favourite coffee shop. “I don’t think you mean it.”

“I do!” Tim insists, and takes a sip of his latte. “I promise to make a pact that we should both ask our crushes out in one week’s time, or we have to do a forfeit task as decided by the winner.”

“Okay, but what are you gonna do when I’m the winner and my forfeit task is to tell you that you absolutely must, no prevarication or equivocation, ask Conner out within three business days,” Steph replies.

“Well, first off,” Tim says. “I don’t think you’ll actually do it, and so my forfeit task will be to tell you that you have three business days to ask Cass out.”

There’s silence in their corner of the coffee shop while they both take sips of their drinks.

“God, what are we gonna do if they say no?” Steph asks with a small, self-deprecating smile that Tim hates to see.

“She won’t,” he promises. It’s not that Cass is his closest sibling, the one he knows best, the one whose answer he can more or less guarantee. That’s still definitely Dick and probably always will be. But he does know Cass, and he knows Steph, and he knows what people like him see in people like Steph, and he genuinely can’t imagine a future where Cass turns Steph down.

“What if they’re straight though?” Steph asks, and takes a sip of her chai latte, giving Tim a flash of big blue eyes of doubt over the rim of the oversized mug.

Tim… honestly hasn’t considered the possibility.

“They’re not,” he says, and actually feels the confidence in his own words. “But even if they are, they’re allies so they won’t be assholes about it. The bet is just that we’ll ask our crushes out, and is not dependent on them saying yes.”

Steph hums, thinking about it, and takes a sip. It gives her a foam moustache and a Tim of even six months prior would’ve leaned across the table to kiss it off for her. But as much as he loves Steph — and he does, he still does, and he always will — it’s not… like that anymore. It makes him want a better designation than just “best friend.” Because, like, Steph absolutely is one of his best friends, and to date, she’s the only person in that category (generally well populated, because he doesn’t think most people have more than one person there, let alone three to five) who he’s also slept with. He wants some sort of designation that says, “Yeah, she’s my best friend, and sure we’ve had sex, and yes, absolutely I would burn down the multiverse for her, but like. We’re never gonna get married. And we’ve moved past the point of romance, and we’re just…”

But they don’t have that word in English, or in any language Tim knows. Steph is just his… most-person, and even if he has to abase himself in a public forum to get it to happen, he’s going to get her the girlfriend she deserves. That the girlfriend Steph both deserves and wants is Tim’s sister and will succinctly place Steph within their family sphere where she belongs forever is not technically an aspect of the bet, but is a positive side effect.

“Okay,” Steph says, lowering her mug to the table and extending her hand Tim’s direction. “One week, we’ll meet back here, and whichever of us hasn’t asked our crush out has to undertake the winner’s challenge.”

“I will take that bet,” Tim agrees, and shakes her hand. Steph nods, and Tim nods, and they spend a moment trying to intimidation-squeeze each other’s hands, and then collapse into mutual giggles and return to their drinks. Tim has residual anxiety bouncing around his chest, knocking against the insides of his ribs, and from the jittery way Steph eventually lifts her mug and takes her next sip, he thinks she does too.

Because these aren’t… well. They’re crushes, sure, that they’re both talking about: they’re people where the thought of their returned affection makes their insides feel squished and crushed down to insignificant shreds, because the point is the other person’s happiness. And maybe it’s hubris and arrogance to assume that they are the person best suited to provide happiness to their respective crushes, but…

But, well. Hope springs eternal.

Tim shakes Steph’s hand and he takes the bet, and he finishes his latte and he means to seek out Superboy immediately, to find Kon and ask him, hey, would you ever consider perhaps… a date? With me? And then there’s a whole thing with like a Doomsday clone and the entire Superfam being on high alert and having no use for powerless heroes like Tim or the entire Batfam save Duke, and, well.

A week goes by. Without Tim meaning it to. Because Gotham’s had it’s own shit (has there ever been a week in modern history where Gotham hasn’t had it’s own problems?) and then without warning, it’s Sunday, and the closest he’s gotten to Kon is a hackneyed text conversation, and he’s sitting down at the café table across from Steph who’s fucking glowing, and…

“She said yes, huh?” Tim guesses, and it genuinely makes him feel warm inside like someone’s replaced his vitreous humours with the radioactive-looking contents of a lava lamp, and it’s everything he’s wanted for Steph — and for Cass, however much he does his best to stay the hell out of his siblings’ love lives — and Steph blushes bright red and hides her smile in the foam of her latte.

“Yeah,” Steph says, and utterly fails to hide her delight. “Not so much ‘yes’ to a date as like. We’re girlfriends now.”

“Good,” Tim says, and he means it with his whole heart.

Steph laughs, and grins, and has to pause to wipe a few drips from her eyes. And Tim gets it. These aren’t just crushes they’ve been talking about. These are the people who are their endgame-(if the universe gets rewritten please return to:)-type love stories.

“So I guess I get to pick the winner’s challenge,” Steph says, sniffing and taking a drink of her latte.

“I want you to know, I would’ve asked Kon out already if not for the whole everything they’ve had going on in Metropolis this week,” Tim says.

“Oh, I know,” Steph assures him. “Which is why I booked you guys dinner in Philly, outside both Gotham and Metropolis zones of bullshit nonsense.”

“Yeah,” Tim says. “Okay.”

Steph grins at him, and the next time he sees her, so does Cass, and when their dinner reservation comes up two days later, so does Kon.

“Quick question,” Tim says, grinning at him when they meet up outside the restaurant Steph had picked. It’s a sushi bar, because she knows Tim likes showing off his dexterity with chopsticks, and because she knows Kon well enough to know he’s proud of being the one, solitary Midwesterner in the Superfam who isn’t cowed by the heat of wasabi. “Do you want to go on a date with me?”

Kon frowns at him while they wait in the vestibule for their reservation, the furrow in his brow casting a delicious shadow over his deep blue eyes, and the Super-red velvet blazer he’s wearing.

“Isn’t this already a date?” Kon asks.

Tim grins, and threads his hand into Kon’s hair to pull him down into a kiss, which Kon goes along with and accepts with a slight purr Tim intends to explore later.

“Yeah, I just… had to make sure, so I didn’t lose the bet fully,” Tim explains.

“This is a bet?” Kon asks, resting his hands at the slight dip in Tim’s waist.

“Not a real one with rom-com consequences like, I dunno, She’s All That, or whatever,” Tim promises. “Just that I failed to ask you out before Steph asked Cass out, and so my punishment was to go on a date with the guy I liked.”

Kon squints down at him, and it lasts long enough Tim has a moment to wonder about his success at this particular situation, even though Kon’s already been okay with kissing him.

“You and Steph have a weird relationship,” Kon informs him, and before Tim can protest, he leans down to kiss him again, entirely on his own volition. “I’m glad.”

Tim grins against Kon’s mouth and is almost ungrateful when the maître’ d tells them he has a place for them to sit. They follow the host into the dark blue-and-black lit restaurant, and accept their pot of tea, and Tim finds himself looking from his menu to Kon’s face. Back and forth like his neck’s on a swivel.

“Glad we have a weird relationship like you’ll… be my boyfriend?” Tim asks.

It takes Kon a beat to look up from his own menu, but when he does it’s with a grin that’s sunshiney enough to overwhelm the entire restaurant, whether or not they realise an actual member of the Superfam — and not just the fam, but specifically a Kryptonian — is responsible.

“Yeah,” Kon says, and leans across their table to press a quick kiss to Tim’s lips. “I will definitely be your boyfriend.”

And, frankly? Tim thinks while he grins down at his menu. Who needs bets anyway? At least when you’re betting on a sure thing?

[mypoisonedvine]

OMG OMG TWO OF MY FAVORITE WRITERS TOGETHER I CANT BREATHE!!! can i please req a dark eddie x shy innocent girlfriend reader who always keeps to herself and doesn’t talk to anyone (except eddie ofc) bc she has a stutter and has been bullied by jason but she doesn’t tell eddie because she’s afraid of what he’ll do but at lunch when she’s with him and his friends talking jason makes fun of her even making her cry and eddie just loses it! I LOVE YOU!!! srry for rambling😭😍🥰

WE'RE ALSO VERY EXCITED THAT WE'RE TOGETHER and we also can't breathe cause we keep laughing at stupid tiktoks lmaooo

just a heads up, I know you said dark eddie in the fic but it wasn't giving dark to me so I wrote it more traditional, I hope you don't mind. I was gonna have bex do this one but we realized it's a lot like their fic mighty protector so I decided to try my hand at it instead!

warnings: bullying, fluff, jason sucks

When you first transferred here, everyone just thought you were silent; that was what you wanted, actually, but it never lasted long enough. It was only a couple of weeks before you had to say something in front of them, and the longer you waited to speak, the more anxious you were to finally break the silence-- and anxiety was what made your stammer show up in the first place.

In those weeks of silence, Eddie had found a way to fall for you without getting to talk to you at all. Amazingly, even after you humiliated yourself in front of the entire English class and became the laughingstock of Hawkins High, he still asked you out; you rejected him the first time, actually, convinced it was a joke. Then, when you figured out it wasn't a joke, you rejected him again because you were too nervous to say yes.

Technically, you never said yes to that first date... he showed up at your house, with flowers and a blanket and a packed picnic basket, and you joined him on your own front lawn. And yes, he made you stammer-- and blush, and laugh. From that day on, you had a permanent seat at the Hellfire table at lunch, with Eddie's arm draped over your shoulders.

Of course, not every day could be perfection. There was still Jason.

"Hey, freaks," Jason greeted you all as he walked by, looking incredibly proud of that incredibly low-hanging fruit.

"Keep moving, shitstain," Dustin called back with a roll of his eyes.

"That's rich coming from you, freshman-- did you just get out of diapers or what?" Jason retorted.

For some reason, that really pissed you off, probably because you could remember being new here too. You knew you shouldn't say anything-- you hardly ever did, knowing what would happen if you opened your mouth-- but for once you wanted to speak up for something you cared about. Or, someone. You put all your concentration into the words on your tongue, clenching your fists and praying to any god that would listen to just. not. stutter.

"B-b-back off!" you blurted out. The whole table, and Jason's crew of jocks, went silent. Then, they started laughing.

Your face heated up and your eyes watered as you looked down. "Nice one, d-d-d-d-dork!" Jason imitated with a loud cackle. Dustin and Mike looked guilty, like it was somehow their fault; Eddie started to get up out of his seat at the table, but you squeezed his shoulder.

"D-don't," you whispered to Eddie. "He's j-j-just trying t-to get you in t-trouble. L...Lll--"

You were gonna say 'leave him alone', but 'L's were the hardest. You didn't stammer on this, specifically, but you got... stuck. And you hated it most of all, it made you feel like a complete lllllloser.

"Oh, look-- I bet she's whispering sweet nothings in his ear," Jason noticed you talking to your boyfriend, putting on a mocking impression with a high-pitched voice as he continued: "D-d-d-do me, Munson!"

A hand on his shoulder wasn't nearly enough to stop Eddie after that; he all but leapt out of his seat and pounced on Jason, taking him to the ground.

He got a few hits in, but it was only a few seconds before Jason's douche army was all over him; honestly, they would've probably really hurt him if there hadn't been teachers nearby to break it up.

The other thing about teachers being nearby, though, is that they saw Eddie technically 'start it.' Of course, they'd never give detention to a basketball star like Carver, and they were always looking for excuses to bust the stoner-slash-super-senior.

You tried to sweeten the deal, though, as repayment for him getting himself detention to defend your honor: you wrote him a note that you paid another delinquent to smuggle in to him.

Hey Ed,

I know I should say this to you in person, but I wanted it to be perfect, no stutters.

I love you.

~

Your heart was already racing as you waited for him to be released from detention; when you saw him burst through the front doors and come bounding towards you, you stood up from where you'd been sitting on the steps outside.

"My-- my poor b-boyfriend," you cooed as he wrapped you in a bear hug and kissed the top of your head.

"Didn't miss me too much while I was incarcerated, did you?" he smirked.

"D-d-desperately," you replied. "D-did you... get my note?"

He smiled. "Yeah."

You pouted a little, getting nervous. "D-do you have... anything to... say t-to it? I m-mean, what I said..."

"I won't respond to what you said until you say it," he insisted.

"Eddie!" you whined.

"C'mon, princess, loud and proud," he demanded.

"B-but I wanted it to be p-p-perfect!" you complained, your heart racing as you just knew you would mess it up if you tried to say it right to his face like this. Shutting your eyes, you took a deep breath; praying didn't work last time, so you just said it a thousand times in your head like you wanted it to come out: I love you Eddie, I love you Eddie, I love you-- "I llllllove you, Eddie."

You cringed as you heard your impediment come through, but then you softened when you felt Eddie's lips press to yours. Smiling into it, you wrapped your arms around his neck and embraced him. "Sounded perfect to me, princess," he whispered. "I love you, too."

[lostloveletters]

Damn Yankees (Bucky Egan x OFC)

Summary: The Great American Pastime puts Sergeant Holly Dean and Major Bucky Egan’s friendship to the test when her struggling Nationals play yet another game against his beloved Yankees.

Note: I introduce you to Miss Thing herself. By the way, the Yankees and the Nationals (also interchangeably referred to as The Senators back then) played 8 or so games against each other in mid-to-late June 1943, which I don’t think is a point of accuracy anyone cares that much about. Anyway, do not interact if you’re under 18, terf or radfem, or post thinspo/ED content.

Word count: 2k

Warnings: Inevitable historical and technical inaccuracies. Internalized thoughts about death and loss. Holly and Bucky are extremely annoying about baseball so if that’s not your thing…

Holly didn’t flinch when the door to the Air Exec office abruptly opened, and she didn’t have to look up from her typewriter to see who pulled up a chair in front of her desk and made himself comfortable.

“Morning, Bucky,” she said.

“It’s a good morning to be a Yankees fan, Holly.”

The first time Major John Egan walked through the office door, restlessness radiated off of him. Holly didn’t understand why he was assigned to Air Exec in the first place. He didn’t seem to either, but he gravitated toward her, initially amazed at how quickly she could type. When the novelty of that wore off, her feverish devotion to the Washington Nationals made him hang around anyway. 

“You’re not even from New York."

“Sure, but who doesn’t love a team that wins?”

She bristled at his gloating. “Being a Nats fan builds character.”

“You know what they say about Washington, first in war, first in peace, and last in the American League.” 

“We’re second this year,” she reminded him. 

Mostly because all of the good baseball players enlisted, including Bucky’s hero Joltin’ Joe DiMaggio, who had enlisted the USAAF earlier that spring. Bucky hoped he’d get assigned to Thorpe Abbotts at some point. Holly figured he’d stay stateside as a fitness instructor.

“Behind the Yankees,” he said.

“We’ll see after tonight’s game.”

“We’ve been wiping the floor with you.”

She scoffed. “Wiping the floor? It’s been pretty even wins.”

“You tell yourself that.”

“Well, we’re gonna win tonight.”

“Wanna bet?” he asked.

The incessant clicking from her typewriter stopped as she lifted her gaze to him. “When the Nationals win tonight, you have to do all of my filing tomorrow.”

“Alright.” He rapped his knuckles against the top of her desk as he considered his wager. “When the Yankees win tonight, you’ll do as much of my paperwork as I can get away with giving you tomorrow.”

Holly stuck out her hand. “Deal.”

Bucky gave it a firm shake. “Looking forward to my day off.”

“I’ll bring a radio to the hardstand tonight. Woody’s gonna be working late on Brady’s fort, so you can eat your words when no one else is around.”

“More like you’ll want Woody to tell you a joke to cheer you up when the Nationals lose again.”

Easy-going Woody was the perfect chaperone. Otherwise unnecessary, considering Holly and Bucky were both adults, but Holly quickly learned that just about everyone at Thorpe Abbotts had an opinion as to what constituted acceptable behavior between a man and a woman. She already had enough people talking about her, anyway.

Colonel Huglin approached, making a beeline for Bucky.

Holly resumed her typing without missing a beat, keys clicking along with the others in the room. “Good morning, Colonel,” Holly greeted.

“Good morning, Sergeant Dean,” he said, kindly enough. “Major Egan, I need to speak with you in my office.”

“‘Course, Colonel.”

“I’ll talk to you later, Major,” Holly said.

Bucky smiled, giving her a nod. “Sure will, Sarge.”

The game was technically at one in the afternoon on the East Coast, but the time difference made it a night game for those listening across the ocean. Unless Bucky got held up by Huglin, she knew he’d be there. He practically had the Yankees’ schedule memorized. 

——

The summer sun wasn’t close to setting by the time the game crept up and Holly made her way to the hardstand. She kept the portable radio tucked securely under her arm while she walked. Silently prayed she wouldn’t somehow trip on the way and smash the radio to pieces just because she wanted to listen to a baseball game.

Woody waved at her in the distance, arm sweeping excitedly through the air. 

“I haven’t seen you all day!” Holly shouted.

“Too long to go without seeing the likes of you!” Woody yelled back.

Woody, of course, being Private Kate Woodward, part of Ken Lemmons’ ground crew and her best friend on base, probably in general, the more she thought about it. Blonde hair in twin braids, green eyes that glistened with determination, grease smudged on her face, and a wrench in hand, Woody was practically the poster girl for the fearless wartime woman, in Holly’s biased opinion.

“What brings you to my humble hardstand?”

“Bucky and I are gonna listen to the Nationals-Yankees game. He has to do my filing tomorrow if the Nats win,” Holly said. 

Woody laughed. “Good luck.” She scratched her forehead, marking her face with another streak of grease. “Just so you know, Brady might be coming out here later.”

“Checking on his fort?”

“I think he doesn’t trust me or something. He’s been coming around almost every day to see how the repairs are going,” Woody said. “I’m certainly not complaining about his company, though.”

“I’m sure.”

“Maybe one of these days he’ll give me a personal tour of his cockpit.”

Holly choked out a laugh, covering her mouth with her free hand. “Woody!”

“Get your head out of the gutter. I’m strictly talking planes here.” Woody grinned. “Your Yankee’s pulling up.”

Bucky parked the jeep next to the women, raising an eyebrow at Holly’s attempts to stifle her giggles. She handed him the radio as she climbed into the passenger seat.

“Hey Woody, how’s it going?” Bucky asked.

“It’s going, Major.”

He nodded toward the plane in question. “Everything coming along okay?”

“Just like Kenny said, it looks a lot worse than it is. It’ll be back in the air in no time.”

“Wouldn’t expect any less from you guys.”

She shook her head, an amused smile on her face. “I oughta get back to it. You have fun doing Holly’s filing tomorrow.”

“Hey, I thought we were friends!” Bucky shouted as Woody jogged away, leaving them to listen to the game. 

Holly took the radio from Bucky, setting it on her lap. “I’ve used this one before,” she said. “It should pick up the station well enough.”

“How’d you get that out here?”

“Said it was your orders.” She smiled, tuning the radio until the boisterous announcer’s voice emerged from the speaker and nearly drowned out Bucky’s laughter. 

“It’s a beautiful afternoon here in the nation’s capital folks! We’ve got the New York Yankees in DC up against the Nationals at Griffith Stadium. Now, the Nats have been down the past two games, but we’re hoping they’ll be able to rally this time around—”

“Is Early the starting catcher?”

“Yeah, pretty sure he is.”

“There’s a National I like.”

“‘Cause he’s the only person who might be chattier than you.”

“It’s one hell of a distraction strategy.”

“You’d know,” she joked, lightly elbowing him in the side.

Jake Early was one of Holly’s favorite players on the Nationals. Not a great hitter, but one hell of a catcher who took to imitating radio announcers and auctioneers or even singing to throw off opposing batters. It was one of the highlights of watching a Nats game in person, in her opinion.

“Have you ever been to a Yankees game?” she asked.

He nodded. “A couple. Listening on the radio is one thing, but seeing them in action? I felt like I got struck by lightning. How about you?”

“I went to a few Nats games every season growing up, but Stan and I went on a lot of dates to home games. One time he nearly broke his hand catching a ball that got hit into our section.”

Bucky shook his head. “What a souvenir, though.”

He knew about Stan. Everyone did. Bucky had the sense to not walk on eggshells if she brought him up. Holly had taken the news better than most people expected. She and Stan had a long discussion about it before he shipped out. Allowed herself to cry at night for a week or so afterward, but pulled herself together and pushed forward. At least, she tried to.

Every now and then, her sailor’s bloated corpse would inevitably be dredged up for curious newcomers to Thorpe Abbotts. Her ears rang with the whispers, always some variation of, ‘Her fiance—Navy, I think—yeah, at Midway—I know—poor girl.’ Stanley Conway’s ghost did little more than serve as an explanation to strangers as to why his former fiance could be…weird was the nicest way someone put it, though a plethora of less than complimentary adjectives had been applied to her and her odd behavior over the past year.

But Bucky liked her. Hung around her even when he wasn’t working in the office. Sometimes her melancholy made him do more of the heavy lifting conversationally. If he minded, he never told her. His friendship made it tough for her to remember to refer to him as Major Egan and not just Bucky, sometimes. Stan would be proud of this Holly, though, the one who made stupid bets on baseball games with an officer. 

Bucky took out his flask, taking a swig before offering it to her. She regretted how quickly she accepted, her throat burning as she shoved it back in his hands.

“What is that?” she hissed.

“Whiskey.”

“That’s not whiskey.” She coughed. “You could put that in the gas tank and drive into town with it.”

“You’ve got the taste of a sailor, that’s what the issue here is. Should’ve joined the WAVES if you wanted rum.”

“I was going to. Stan said he didn’t think it’d be a good idea for us to be in the same branch and all that,” she said. “I kinda wish I had. The Service League is almost better than the Majors right now, especially the Navy league since they got Ted Williams.”

He balked. “You sound just like Crank! And DiMaggio’s in the Army league—he’s one of us!”

“So what? If it’s about who’s the best, Crank’s got a point, Williams can bat 400 no sweat.”

“DiMaggio did during his ‘41 streak.”

“Yeah, during his streak. Williams ended the whole ‘41 season with 406.”

“I was gonna be nice and drive you back after the Nats lose. You can walk, toots,” he half-joked.

“Woody can drive me,” she said, turning to glance behind her. Between the dusk and distance, she couldn’t tell if Brady had made his way out there yet. “I’m staying out here with her, anyway.”

“Want me to hang around?”

“If you want.”

“I’m asking what you want.”

She hummed, slouching back in her seat, a far away expression on her face. “I want the Nats to win.”

Bucky slouched against her, shoulder-to-shoulder. Glanced between her face and the radio a few times, hoping the Nationals would pull off something big for her.

He didn’t pry for details. Wasn’t quite sure how to ask her about it. Part of him was too afraid to know. He was afraid of a lot of things he’d never admit, but the place Holly drifted off to terrified him. So he took it upon himself to get her out of there. He talked about the game. And how he won the bicycles for Buck. And that he was just kidding when he said he wouldn’t drive her back to the womens’ barracks—couldn’t leave her and Woody out by themselves, after all.

Bucky didn't know how much time had passed before Holly finally spoke again.

“Sorry,” she mumbled.

He blinked. “For what?”

“You know.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about. I mean, the Yankees are down bad, and I’m having a ball,” he said. “So you’re apologizing for nothing, doll.” 

He felt like someone poured club soda over his brain when she smiled, brown eyes glimmering gold. His gaze fell to her lips, his tongue darting out between his own for a moment. His shadow fell over her like a blanket as he leaned closer.

“And it’s strike three, you’re out for the Yankees in the top of the ninth!” The announcer’s voice blared through the radio, nearly making him jump in his seat. “That’s the game folks! The Washington Nationals win on their home turf against the New York Yankees—“

“We won! Oh my god, we won!” Holly sat up, nearly knocking the radio off of her lap in her excitement. She landed a few playful punches on his arm. “Take that, Egan!”

He rolled his eyes, smiling nevertheless. “It’s a good thing the Nats don’t win more often, because you’re the sorest winner I’ve ever met.”

“You can dish it out, but you can’t take it. That’s what I’m hearing.”

“Hey, I’m a man of my word. I’ll do your filing tomorrow,” he said, bringing his flask to his lips. “Damn Yankees.”

[five-rivers]

Pretty in Pink Chapter 2

@jadenoryuu

:)

.

“Just go ask,” said Star.  “He's totally into you.  He'd probably streak through the cafeteria if you asked.”

“Shut up,” said Paulina.  

Valerie looked between Star and Paulina, eyebrows raised.  “Is there something I'm missing here?  You guys have been acting… off… this whole month.  You two and Dash.”

“It's nothing,” said Paulina.  “Star's hallucinating.”  

Star scoffed and crossed her arms.  “Pauli's got a crush.”

Paulina had picked up some freak ghost disease from the Fentons’ stupid underground tunnel, so maybe if she thought hard enough about it, she could set Star on fire with her mind.  Why would she pick that as her cover story?  What the freak?  She had enough trouble holding onto her reputation while falling through walls and getting into fights with dead lunch ladies without people thinking she was crushing on Fenton, who looked even worse than he usually did today.  What if people started to think her type was ‘drowned rat charity case reject?’

Plus, his stupid tunnel had sort of technically killed her.  Wasn't she supposed to hold a grudge about that?

“Glare at me all you want, but it's the only way you'll be getting any sleep.”

“Oooh,” said Valerie.  “You've got it that bad, huh?  What's stopping you?”

“Well,” said Star, the traitor, “she's worried that he's not exactly A-list material, you know?”

“Girl, seriously?” said Valerie, and Paulina could practically feel her popularity points drop.  “You make things A-list.  Anything in your orbit catches some of that glow.  Anyone you like is cool by association.  You could make anyone cool.  Except Nathan Lester.  He must have been cursed by some ancient northern European god in a past life, because yikes.”

“See, I told you so,” said Star.  

“I bet,” said Valerie, “that you could even make Danny Fenton cool.”

Valerie Gray was a literal gift from God.  But Paulina couldn't run with that too quickly.  

“You think so?” she asked.  “Him?  Cool?”

“Only through your powers,” said Valerie.  She sipped at her soda.  “But as far as raw materials go…  He's got good bone structure, at least, underneath all that greasy middle-schooler hair, and he’s scrawny, but with the right outfit you can play that off as slender, he looks like Dash’s been beating the crap out of him, so you’d have to get him to quit that, but that’s the easiest part, probably.  Yeah, you could do it, Paulina.”

“And you can always dump him after, if he doesn’t pan out or is a creep,” said Star.  “We can even plan it out beforehand, so it'll be funny.”

“Well, yeah, of course you're going to dump him for whoever you're actually interested in.  This is just a trial run.”  She popped a chocolate-covered pretzel into her mouth.  “Who are you interested in, by the way?  Weston?  He's pasty, but at least he's good at basketball.”

Disgusting.  It was true Weston wasn't a complete troll, but she had it on good authority that he was a total conspiracy nut, and her papa said conspiracy theories always somehow led back to literal nazis, and that wasn't a good look on someone as pale as Weston.  

“Ew, no.”

“Who, then?  Come on, spill.”

“It's a secret,” said Paulina, winking.  She'd have to make something up eventually, though.  Maybe one of the upperclassmen would do the trick.  Or maybe she could pretend she lost interest.  “But a trial run…  I'll try it out.  But the minute I'm not having fun…”

“We'll be ready with the tar and feathers,” said Valerie, “just like in history class.  Go on.”  She made a shooing motion.  “Work your magic.  Entertain us.”

Paulina stood up and cocked her hips to one side, like a movie star.  “Watch me.”

She walked over to Fenton's table and sat down.  One of his eyes went wide and round.  The other remained a blue and purple slit.  Wow.  Maybe she'd have to ask Dash to ease up, anyway.  

“Hi, Danny,” she said, with her friendliest smile.  

“H-h-hi Pauli–”

“What do you want?” demanded Samantha Manson, hypocrite extraordinaire, looking down her unnaturally pale nose.  Honestly, anyone who caked that much makeup on had to be at least as self-centered as she said Paulina was.  

Paulina sighed heavily.  “Wow, rude, much?”

“Says the girl who bribed the school board to go back to the old, unbalanced, unhealthy, cheap as dirt menu when she brings lunch from home or orders out.”

Well, yeah, she got her dad to lean on the school board a bit.  It was the only way to keep the lunch lady ghost from coming back again.  She’d just kept attacking the school, over and over again, screaming about the stupid menu change.  Manson should be grateful, honestly.  It was her the ghost had it out for.  

But, yeah, the best way to keep the ghost away or not, she wasn’t eating the slop the school served if she had any other choice.  

“Says the girl who is so conceited she made the whole school eat her special menu.”

“Oh, snap,” said Tucker.  Was that drool on his lip?  

Men were dogs.  Seriously.  Ick.  

“Anyway,” she said, turning back to her target.  “Danny.  I can call you Danny, right?”

“Um, it is my name?”

“Right, so, I heard your parents are scientists.  Inventors.”

“Y-yeah.  They– Yeah.”

God.  And people like this wondered why they weren’t popular.  Try and string two words together.  Give her something to work with.  

“And they're investigating that meat monster that kept attacking the school.”

“They are!  They're really, I mean.  That whole thing was, it was pretty bizarre, wasn't it?”

“Yeah.  Sure.  So, I was wondering if you could maybe show me what they do sometime?  Their inventions and stuff?  Maybe this afternoon?”

“I– Well, I don't know, they've been really busy, this month, ever since the portal came on, and– Ow!  Sam!”

“Don't fall for it, Danny, she's just doing the ‘meet me behind the bleachers and then the whole cheer squad will be there to mock you when you show up’ thing, but with more steps.”

“Wow, suspicious much?”

And she might as well be.  April DeLongpre, who had been the middle school cheer captain two years ago, had done exactly that to her, and now the whole school knew Manson was a lesbian.  Except for maybe her two clueless friends.  

She turned her attention back to clueless one and batted her eyelashes.  “Please?  It would make me feel a lot better if I could see what they were doing.  That meat monster was super freaky.”

“I- I guess.  You might not be able to see their lab, though, they've been trying to, um, sort some things out down there.  It isn't really safe.”

Paulina already knew that.  As far as she was concerned, it was a death trap.  Literally.  But Star was right.  She needed something that could actually make ghosts go away, and the Fentons were the only game in town.  Despite what happened with her hands in ‘ghost form,’ her nails weren't made for fighting.  

Whatever.  Once she got there and got him alone, she could pressure him into basically whatever.  His interactions with Dash already showed that he had no spine. 

“Thanks.  I'll see you after school, then?  On the corner?”  That was far enough away from the school proper that at least the bus kids wouldn't see them.  “You have that scooter, right?”  She’d seen him on a skateboard too, but he’d been wiping out at the time, so she doubted it was his ride to school.

“Actually, Jazz has been driving me,” said Danny.  “She started worrying, after, well, you know.”  He shrugged with one shoulder.  “She should be okay with bringing you, too.”

Bleh.  Jazz Fenton.  The girl wasn’t as bad as Danny.  She was pretty, edging into beautiful, and Dash totally had a crush on her.  Still.  She was so preppy and peppy it even put Star off.  She was, like, an alien or something.  

“That’s… cool,” she said.  

“And, um, we carpool with Tucker, too.”

Great.  Well, she could cope with being drooled over for one car ride.  She’d take a cab home.  

“Sounds like a date,” she said, giving Fenton another winning smile.  

“Oh!  Um, yeah!  A- a date!  I’ll see you then, Paulina.”

Gag.  

“See you then.”

Paulina couldn’t scoot off the bench fast enough.  Hopefully Star and Valerie were letting everyone know about ‘the plan’ to seduce and dump Fenton, because, otherwise, her popularity would definitely take a hit.  

.

The car ride was just as agonizing as she’d imagined, with Foley’s staring, Danny’s downright painful, stuttering attempts at flirting, and Jazz trying to psychoanalyze all of them.  As if she could understand any of what Paulina was going through.  

But then Tucker was dropped off and Jazz disappeared into the house, leaving Paulina and Danny standing on the front lawn.  

“Yeah, so, it’s a bit much, but do you want to go in?” asked Danny.  

Paulina gave him a sharp look, and he looked away.  So what if she was a bit hesitant about going somewhere she’d been killed?  That was her business, wasn’t it?

“Yeah, let’s go,” she said. 

Danny nodded and dashed up the steps.  “The living room is just off of here.”

“What about the lab?” she asked.  

“Well, like I said, my parents are pretty busy…”

What, and he didn’t want her to see them?  The whole town knew what they were like.  Annoying.  “It’s just… after everything that happened the past month, I’d just really feel better if I knew there was someone working on things, you know?”

“I…”  Danny was visibly wavering.  

“Please?  Show me the lab?  I’ll be really careful and quiet.  They won’t even know I’m there.”

“I– Okay.  But it’s not their fault, really.  They didn’t mean to make it so things could pass through it.”

“What are you talking about?”

Danny made a face.  “It’s easier to show you.  But first…”  He reached into his pocket and pulled out… a tube of lipstick.  

Huh.  Dash always called Fenton girly, but she’d never seen him wear makeup.  

“This is just a precaution,” he said, holding it out in front of him like it was loaded.  

“The lipstick?” asked Paulina, skeptically.  

“The lipstick laser.  The lipstick tube is just the casing, so you can carry it around.”

Yeah, Paulina would believe that when she saw it.  

Fenton then turned into the kitchen and went straight to the big metal door.  He braced himself before opening it, as if he expected an explosion.  There wasn’t one.  The only noise coming from below was the buzzing hum of the thing.  

Not that Paulina was going to bring that up.  

“Huh,” said Danny.  “I guess they must be out.  Okay.  So, um, if I say to run, then you’ve got to run, okay?”

“What, are you expecting something to explode down there?”  It wasn’t an out-of-nowhere question, based on what she’d seen when they were down here before.  

“Not exactly,” he said.  

He went down the stairs.  Paulina followed.  

It was empty down there.  That’s all Paulina registered before her attention was grabbed by the thing.  It was just as sinister and gaudy as she remembered it.  A goth punk’s dream.  Her nightmare.  

“So, uh, this is the portal.”

“The portal,” she said.  “That’s what it was.”  

“Yeah.  The portal.  The, um, the ghost portal.  That spews ghosts.  Hence the lasers.  They didn’t mean to.  They wanted it to be a window, or something.  Like, they could look at ghosts through it, but they wouldn’t be able to come through?  But the thing turned on in the middle of the night all on its own, without any of their safeguards - not that there were all that many of those - so now it’s more of a door.  To hell, apparently.”

“Wait, wait, wait, you think that meat monster thing came through here?”

“Yeah, probably,” said Danny.  He sounded exhausted.  

“Then why don’t they turn it off?  Jesus.”

“They tried.  Like I said, no safeguards.  It sucks so much to sleep near this.  You wouldn’t believe it.”  He rubbed his eyes.  “I hate this, truly.”

“So, it could keep… doing this?  More could come through?  Have more come through?”  She didn’t have to feign fear at this.  She had plenty of it to spare.  

“Yeah, probably.”

“But your parents are doing something about it, right?  Finding a way to close it, building weapons, that kind of thing?”

“Yeah, they’re building weapons, capture devices, that kind of thing…”

“Do you think… are there any that I could… have?”

“I mean, they’ve got some things for sale… But those aren’t the ones that work, right now.  Some of their theories were off.  Don’t buy the ghost gabber, for all that’s holy.”

“But there are things that work?”

“Yeah, but they’re prototypes.  Design stage stuff.”

“Could I maybe take one of those?”

“One of the prototypes?  Um.  No.  That’s– Those aren’t mine to give away.  Those’re my parents’.”

“Oh, come on, they’re not going to notice!”

“Trust me, the lab might look like a mess, but they’d notice.”

“But what if one of these ghosts comes after me?  Like, your dad’s a big guy, and doesn’t your mom do martial arts?”  That was one of the things he’d mentioned on that car ride.

“I mean, yeah…  But they’ll be really upset if they notice something’s gone.  They work really, really hard on these things.”

“More upset than me, if I run into a ghost?  I’m just asking for something for self defense.”

“I– Okay.  But, um.  But.  I think.  Maybe.  Um.”  He turned bright pink.  “I’m taking a big risk, here.  So maybe.  Maybe you could come to the– the fall dance with me?”

“What.”

“Just the dance!  If you don’t like it, you don’t, um.  You don’t have to go out with me again.  It’s just the dance.  As, like, an exchange of favors.”

“Fine,” said Paulina.  Danny beamed.  “But you’d better give me something good.”  Or else she was doing the ditch at the dance.

“I will!  But self-defense only.  Small stuff.  The bigger guns can seriously hurt people, and can hurt you, too, if you don’t know how to use them.  And you have to practice with all of these.  They’re weapons, not toys.”

It was better than no stuff.  And she could work up to big stuff later.  

Danny pressed the ‘lipstick laser’ into Paulina’s hand.  “Don’t go showing this off.  My parents will kill me if they know I gave it away.”

“Yeah, I know the feeling.  Is there, like, anything else?”

“I…”

“Please, Danny, you’re my only hope here.”

“I… fine.  Fine.”  He looked around the room, hands on his hips.  “Okay.”  He strode over to the table and picked up something that looked more like a thermos than anything else.  “I’m only giving you this because they’ve already gotten the second one in production.  This is the Fenton Thermos.  And, yeah, I know, we slap our name on everything, I get it.”

“And it does… what?  Keep your coffee hot?”

“It traps ghosts.  It’s actually pretty cool.  Dad caught these octopus ghost guys with it last week.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah!  It was one of the coolest things I’ve seen my dad do, honestly.  So, um.  Practice!  Let me show you how to use a lipstick!  Not that you don’t– I mean, obviously– I mean, a laser.  And a thermos.  Ghost thermos.  You get what I mean.”

“Yeah,” said Paulina.  “Just show me, okay?”

[newtonsheffield]

Okay but I haven’t even revealed the one of the funniest subplots in the Vegas AU:

Kate bet Anthony she could make back the money for her first class flight and ten some if he spotted her $100.

“Just how lucky do you think you’re going to get?”

“Oo, down boy.” Kate leaned in and winked at him, letting their fingers brush as she plucked the note from him. “I have a party trick.”

And Anthony doesn’t realise until they get back to London and they’re dividing up the winnings, sprawled out on his bed.

“You’re welcome.” Kate chuckled, kissing his the top of his head.”

“You did actually get really fucking lucky.”

Kate blinked at him. “Well… yeah and the other thing.”

Anthony’s eyes narrowed as he struggled to piece it together and then he gasped, dropping the money. “Were you counting cards?!”

“Technically? Yes.”

“Kate!”

“Oh come on! Cheating a casino is a victimless crime! And I thought you knew!”

“I thought your party trick was the cherry stem tied around the ice cube!”

“Oh!” Kate chuckled, “Well, yeah, that’s fun too!”

“How do you even know how to do that?” Anthony asked a little indignantly.

“Girls are allowed to have hobbies, honey.”

“When you said you worked in finance did you mean you’re a professional gambler?”

“No!” Kate rolled her eyes, “I actually do work in finance, this is just something a did in uni when I was poor.”

“Great! Great!” Anthony sighed, “Well, eat the rich, I suppose.”

[pinkhairedlily]

forelsket (a mark of affection)

sasusaku month 2024 | day 6: first kiss | ao3 ✍🏽

The bottle lands squarely between Sakura and Sasuke. The group hoots, teases, and laughs before arguing among themselves who could give the most controversial question.

The newly minted couple glances at each other in awkward shyness that only comes after announcing their relationship to their friends. Well, arriving together at a house party is as close as announcing.

“Who’s your first kiss?!” Kiba shouts amidst the chaotic exchange. The uproar gets replaced with an incessant grumbling of complaints.

Choji slaps the back of his head. “Are you stupid?”

“Yeah, are you stupid?” Naruto repeats. “I am Sasuke’s first kiss!”

“I think that shouldn’t count,” Shikamaru counters. “It’s accidental.”

Sai raises a finger. “Technically, a kiss means to touch someone or something with the lips especially as a mark of affection or greeting.”

“Were you greeting Sasuke good morning back then, Naruto?” Tenten asks in absurdity.

“Shut up Tenten. I was telling him how stupid and moronic he is!”

“I just think you and Sasuke really need to tap into your unresolved issues,” Lee adds to the foray.

“I think you all should shut up,” Shino says, “because we don’t know whose Sakura was.”

The group quiets down for a few seconds which stretch into a minute as they wait for her response. Sakura quickly averts her gaze from Sasuke and exchanges glances with Ino. Her blonde best friend, her trusted confidante, her ride-and-die, refuses to meet her eyes. That. Bitch. Sakura clears her throat to buy some time.

“It’s just Sasuke, guys.” Hinata, beautiful Hinata, comes to her rescue.

Kiba rubs his palms together. “Ooh, what if it’s not?”

Sakura can feel the tips of her ears rise to the temperature. She clears her throat, louder this time, and reaches for the glass of water behind Sasuke. Her throat becomes even dryer. Her boyfriend is not even looking at her.

“I’m sensing we should let Sakura have her privacy,” Lee interjects. He dramatically moves sideways from Sasuke just to give her a big thumbs up. “You can skip this one, Sakura!”

“No fair, we answered all questions.” Kiba waves his arms around, a big gesture of displeasure. “Even Shino had to reply to who was his first kiss and it was a frigging insect.”

“I, personally, think it’s on brand.” Sasuke speaks for the first time. Shino leans across the circle and gives him a high five which the former doesn’t meet. “A hercules beetle though. Really?”

“Ino is being awfully quiet.” Shikamaru the nosy really had to point it out! “You know something.”

She shrugs and scoots closer to Sai to hug his arm. “I’m so sorry, Sakura. Please invoke Katsuyu if you’re feeling up to it.”

Tenten laughs. “So you really know something!”

Choji hands over bills to Kiba and Naruto, a surefire sign that they are betting. Shikamaru looks at Naruto, dumfounded. “How do you not know this?”

Sakura’s other blonde best friend just scratches his head. “I’m pretty sure Sakura told me this, but I, well, I forgot!”

“Dumbass.”

“What about we settle for a true or false if it helps.” Hinata offers a lifeboat. Not really. Sakura senses she will still sink all the same after this.

“So Sakura, is Sasuke your first kiss? True or false?”

She hazards a glance his way, and sure enough, he is staring. His palm under his chin, observing her and all her tells. Sasuke is excellent in guarding his most vulnerable expressions in public. He’s doing it right now, and she can’t read him. And she gets tremendously anxious, not knowing which way this could go.

She chooses honesty at the end of it.

It isn’t bad, Sakura surmises after they left the party. They’re walking back to her apartment, and he’s holding her hand. Loose but held all the same. They stop at the riverbank, and he lets go. She chases his fingers but sees his expression that freezes her cold.

“Kirigakure?” he repeats.

Sakura shouldn’t have hoped for the best. Of course, this is something Sasuke would fixate on. She would very much like to bury this in the past and move on, but goddamn it is tiring to explain the specifics which she firmly chose to leave out earlier. “Fine, since you’re so stubborn.” Yes, she sounds annoyed as hell. “It was a post battle gathering of sorts. It’s the kind of moment where we just stopped an invasion from an Akatsuki member. Later that month, they will come back and ultimately destroy the village we protected. But the Land of Water knows how to celebrate their victories. They live in the present. So there is lots of booze, lots of dancing. I didn’t have Tsunade-sama’s tolerance yet.

“So there’s this guy, like an anbu counterpart of ours. He tells me I saved his life on the field. He was so….in awe. Pupils super dilated, his full focus on you, no care in the world that goes on behind him. When you’re green and so adamant to prove yourself—to exist outside of wanting to look for you and bring you back—to prove that I can be strong and when I am strong, I can definitely bring you back, you tend to bask in this attention. It’s unreal, being showered with graces when I was always the ordinary one out of our team. We danced. We talked. We drank. We held hands. Then he asks if he could kiss me. I said yes.”

Sasuke stands still and takes all of these in. He doesn’t move closer to her nor does he offer his hand to wipe away tears that have fallen on her cheeks.

“Do you wanna know why I said yes?” Sakura fights back another batch that threatens to escape her eyes. “Because I miss you. Because I’m lonely. Because the war is tough and it takes everything out of you, most of the time, you only become a shell. And I’m so consumed by grief, by loss and the unknowing, and I miss you so much and I wonder if we could go back again to the way it was before. Because underneath those dim lights and the rowdy band music and the crowd that anyone could melt into, I could pretend I was dancing with you, holding my hand, and asking me if you could kiss me. So sorry if you are not my first kiss.”

“Are you done?” he simply asks.

Sakura nods. 

“I’m not angry.” He bridges the distance and gingerly wipes away the tear streaks. “I just wanted to know if that’s your preference.”

“Fuck you Sasuke,” Sakura laughs-sobs and lightly punches his chest. He pulls her in closer and inhales her shampoo, the fading summer in her hair, the smell of sake. “It is always, always a Konoha boy.”

“I’m not gonna wax poetic how I waited for you…let’s not count Naruto, okay,” he murmurs in her ear, “I couldn’t think of anything outside hate and anger back then. I was too busy trying to be the strongest, and most times, it made for dreamless nights. Funnily enough, despite all that, some came through.”

“Hmm?”

“A dream about you, in the Forest of Death. Somehow, in that version, I didn’t manage to get there on time, and you’re on the forest floor, asleep. You won’t wake up no matter what I do. Your breathing started to weaken, and I was shouting for Naruto, Kakashi, anyone, so that they could help me save you. It’s like an endless genjutsu. Then, I remembered the fairytale trick.”

“A true love’s kiss.” Sakura pulls away slightly to wander in his eyes. “Did I wake up?”

He smiles. “You did.” Only for her, he smiles.

“So you had a wet dream of me.”

Sasuke blushes beet red in the darkness. “That’s not—!”

“I’m just joking!” She laughs still, easing into his embrace, her ribs moving against his limbs.

His fingers trace her spine in the meantime. “I’d just like you to know, Sakura, that it doesn’t matter who the firsts were. Doesn’t matter at all.” He kisses her ear, her forehead, her now dry cheeks, her nose. “Let this one matter for both of us.”

She meets him halfway. A soft, lovely contact of lips, a mutual mark of affection. “Our second first kiss,” she jests in the aftermath.

He leans in again, captures her full on the mouth, a bit heavier. “Our third first kiss.”

And again in the next 200 meters. “Our fourth.” And again in the alley before her apartment. “Fifth.” and again in her house. “Sixth.” Again and again and again.

“Those were a lot of first kisses,” she says. “You’re never gonna stop?”

A promise. “Until the last.” And again.

buy me and my cats coffee ☕

[zer0brainc3lls]

i bet on losing dogs pt2

masterlist

story summary: what if in the death cure (movie canon) newtmas was canon with a slight plot change added to the mix?

TW LIST: typical dystopian movie stuff (guns, killing etc), s3lf mutilation (tearing at open wounds), description of said wounds in detail, very slight mention of past su1cide attempt (its literally one sentence), cursing (if thats even a tw), thoughts of dying, (if i missed any let me know!!)

word count: 9697

authors note at the end!!!

Soon after Brenda found Newt and Thomas in the empty storage room, a plan was decided. Thomas was going to be used as bait to get teresa away from public view so they could kidnap her and take her to an abandoned church not to far from Lawrence and his army, newt wasn't technically necessary for the plan to work but thomas literally refused to cooperate until gally agreed he could come. After.. The map room incident Gally recognised Thomas had the flare and informed Brenda and Frypan pretty much immediately after Newt ran after Thomas, well that's what Brenda told him anyway. While said plan was being worked out Newt tried to ignore the way the others, mainly Gally, looked at Thomas. Whenever Thomas made even a slightly sudden movement eyes would widen slightly, or brows would furrow into tight lines. The sight made newts insides bubble in quiet yet hot rage, they trusted him not even 2 hours before and now they practically jump whenever he moves. Well except for Brenda, which Newt is grateful for. When gally said they should all get to bed Newt quickly asked Brenda if there was anything he could do to slow down the flare, since she has spent way longer in the scorch than he has. 

“Well look, his symptoms based on what you have told me have progressed.. Rapidly. Very rapidly. That's probably because of y’know.. Wicked and all that so just try to keep him calm.” Brenda's sympathetic words ringing in his head as he sat up against a concrete wall of a room full of crates with god knows what where gally had stuffed them saying “all the sleeping quarters are overcrowded as is so you're just going to have to make due.” to be fair, newt can't complain. This is the nicest place he has slept in months compared to in trucks and tents, at least they had a door and a roof. 

Thomas, Brenda and frypan had all fallen asleep quickly after they arrived. Frypan leaning against one of the many wooden crates with his arms crossed and his legs sprawled out, Brenda laid on her back with her hands under her head and legs crossed, and Thomas sat to Newts left with their hands intertwined as his head rests against the concrete wall with his mouth hanging open slightly as he sleeps. Newt can't allow his muscles to relax into sleep, all he can think about is the days ahead. Is Teresa going to cooperate? If she doesn't, what will they do? And even if she does will they be caught? Kidnapped? Tortured? Sucked dry of whatever wicked wants from them? Thomas killed due to his infection? Even if they find Minho without being caught, will Thomas turn anyway before they get the cure? Will Newt have to watch as Thomas' soft yet determined eyes he loves so dearly turn hollow and somehow full of bloodlust? 

“You trying to cut my blood supply off or what?” Newt hears Thomas murmur playfully as to not wake the others, it's only when he speaks Newt realizes how hard he was gripping onto Thomas’s hand as his thoughts spiraled. Newt loosened his grip before murmuring back “sorry tommy, go back to sleep” he says trying to mask the clear exhaustion in his voice, thomas snorts like an idiot before saying “haha very funny, whats up?” Newt cocks his head slowly towards Thomas with his brows raised before facing away from him again, the humor from Thomas’s reaction slowly trickling out of Newt. Newt feels familiar hands slither around his waist, pulling him close. Thomas doesn’t push any harder and simply just holds him, patiently waiting for a reply. Newt doesn't know how exactly to word his thoughts properly, when he himself cant pinpoint why he feels so anxious. There's always been a risk of Thomas and everyone else in the group getting hurt so why is it bugging him now?? “What if something happens to you?” Newt says, avoiding Thomas' eyes. Newt can almost hear the wheels turn in Thomas's brain as he clenches his jaw in thought. “That's always been a possibility, you of all people know that-” “i know! I know.” Newt lowers his voice so as to not wake the others, he turns to face Thomas's large but at the moment sympathetic eyes. Before newt even registers what he's about to say he bursts out,

“What if I freeze up again?!” he whisper shouts. “You won't.'' Thomas replies sternly, his brows furrowing as if that's the most ridiculous thing he's ever heard. “No i'm being serious-” thomas grabs both sides of newts face firmly cutting him off. “You. won't. I'm absolutely positive, if you can't trust your own judgment then trust mine.” Thomas lightly shakes his face to emphasize his point, his brows softening and all sternness pours out of him as he softly smiles. “Good that?” 

“Good that.” The words practically spilling from Newt's tongue, Thomas had a strange way of captivating the blonde into believing things, jumping into plans, and overall just following him and trusting him blindly. And at the end of the day, Newt truly does trust Thomas. Thomas’s Judgment got them out of the maze, away from Janson, through the scorch, back to wicked to save minho. Newt sometimes wonders if he has the same effect on Thomas, he's pretty positive he does. It's funny, they’re both so stubborn and refuse to back down and fight others' opinions but when it's each other they’re so easily convinced. They work so well together as if they are intertwined by invisible string, even in fights the work so flawlessly together as if they share a brain. Thomas is Newt's other half, his symbol of hope, a prayer for a better tomorrow. 

Suddenly Newt found himself being held by familiar strong arms, his back pressed against Thomas’s chest with one of Newt's legs draped over his legs. Despite Newt being taller he found himself under Thomas, his fingers tracing along Thomas's knuckles. He listened to how Thomas's breathing slowly steaded into a repetitive rhythm and felt his muscles relax against Newt's back, until he too felt sleep calling to him. 

—

The next day Newt mostly spent his time making sure Thomas was calm, cool and collected to see the person they were about to.. retrieve. When Newt wasn't watching Thomas like a hawk he was mostly with Gally and the others going over the plan, what to do if B happens instead of A, where to lure Teresa, how to keep her in one spot and successfully transport her to the church without causing a ruckus. 

Gally informed them that the whole city was under curfew and there should be almost no one about, so getting her from point A to point B shouldn't be too much of a problem. As long as everything goes according to plan they should have no issues until they get to the church, that's where the real problem lies.. Newt is pretty confident in Gally's interrogation skills and it has nothing to do with Teresa because he's also pretty confident it shouldn't be super hard to make her cooperate. The real problem lies with Thomas, and his new.. Temper. Since the tunnel he's only really had two episodes of the flare really getting to him, first when he punched gally and second in the map room. Newt is almost positive the interrogation is going to at the very least be quite eventful, and at its worst Teresa ends up shot, which isn't exactly ideal. Despite his own personal feelings towards her which aren't exactly positive he's going to try and make sure thomas doesn't end up killing her or seriously injuring her, for the sake of everyone besides teresa. 

The next thing Newt knows he's standing next to gally crouched behind a wall watching as Thomas distracts Teresa while also waiting for the signal. The mere sight of them speaking his skin crawl with repulsion and anger, it's all part of the plan, slim yourself. Newt thinks silently to himself, while still clenching his jaw. He keeps his eyes locked on thomas patiently waiting for signal, after a moment or two thomas nods him and gally over. 

—

Once gally had her tied up, Newt walked slowly behind Teresa, he firmly gripped the black bag that was tied over her head and yanked it off. He made his way back to his original seating spot where he watched gally tie her up not even a moment ago, Newt couldn't ignore the fact that Teresa was staring at Thomas, as if he's going to help her. “I'm going to start off simple, where's minho.” gally begins, he lifts a chair in his arm as he walks over to Teresa “you guys don't seriously think-” the bang of Gally’s chair hitting the ground interrupts her. “Don't look at him. Why are you looking at him? Look at me. He's not going to help you.” Teresa's eyes flick towards Thomas expectedly, almost pleading with him. The look on her face makes Newt feel positivity sick to his core. Newt looks to Thomas and sees him cross armed looking back at her, his face is stone cold and his eyes are hollow. 

“We know you have minho in the building, where.” Gallys voice is laced with authority that sounds practiced, like a record player on repeat. “He's with the others in holding.. sublevel3” she replies reluctantly, her gaze on the floor. “How many others?” Newt asks cooly, he glares at Teresa and all he can think about is that night with the right arm. The screams and cries while bombs rained down, gun powder, flesh, blood. So much blood. How can Teresa think what she is doing is right?? All this suffering and torture for a cure that probably doesnt even exist?? The present world is beyond saving, why wouldn't she want to start anew? It was right there, they were all so close. 

“You can't get in without a thumb print id-'' Teresa's voice stops the swirling in Newt's mind. “That's why you're going to come with us!” Gally says condescendingly. “Do we need her though?” Thomas announces, after a moment of silence he stands up and pulls out his knife from the inside of his jacket. “Not all of her!” he gestures to Teresa with the knife in his hand almost manically. His voice sounds almost humorous? In Between the cracks Newt can tell, Thomas is slipping again. “Thomas.” Newt warns. “No seriously! Do we need her? Hmm?” Thomas questioned out loud, he walks over to her almost mockingly and crouches down in front of her “oh yeah that's right! We have these trackers, property of WICKED and all! So turns out you are needed. So either you cooperate.. Or i just cut your fucking hand off!” his voice drips with insanity, Newt doesn't have to look at him to know his eyes are large black pools with hunger for blood. Newt's eyes lock with Brenda's, her face screaming in desperation to him DO SOMETHING!! Brenda's right, Newt does need to intervene. Despite that seeing Teresa's hand being cut off would be an amazing sight, the flare feeds on blood and adrenaline and that's the exact opposite of what Thomas needs right now. 

“Greenie i SWEAR-” Newt is already walking over to Thomas as he spits out “slim it gally.” not even bothering to look in gally direction he wraps his fingers thomas’s left wrist which is strained tightly around his knife, his eyes flicking in and out of sainty. Newt runs his hand through Thomas's hair completely ignoring the pure terror in Teresa's eyes, Thomas's body relaxes slightly before he quickly stands up and storms back to where he was sitting before, he sits down and twirls the knife in his hand. Newt sits back down not listening to Gallys yells as he berates Teresa further, instead he listens to Thomas's heavy breathing and watches as his head twitches occasionally trying to fight the flare. 

“Keep him calm” 

Newt pries the knife out of Thomas’s hand with his left hand and holds Thomas's now empty hand in his right, Thomas grasps onto Newt's hand, almost crushing it. Their fingers interlocked so tightly Newt can almost feel Thomas's bones, he squeezes back but not as hard and rubs the back of Thomas's thumb with his own. Thomas’s iron grip slowly becomes almost doughy, his head no longer twitching every few seconds. Newt notes how Gally has seemed to stop yelling and stomping around like a mad man so Newt assumes the interrogation is over, Gally lets Teresa out of her restraints so she can get everyone's tags out. 

“Thanks” he hears Thomas murmur, his eyes full of care and thankfulness, back to normal. “What would bloody do without me?” he murmurs back teasingly, Thomas rolls his eyes playfully, a warm smile still remains. 

Gally gets his tag out first, then frypan, Thomas and now Newt sits in the chair. Teresa was pretty quiet while removing the others tags, she attempted to make small talk with Thomas but Newt practically drilled a hole between her eyes when she did so she promptly shut up.

“This is going to sting-” “yeah i figured.” “so try to relax.” he awaits for the scrape but after a second or two nothing happens. “go on then?” “When's the last time Brenda was treated?” “oh y’know just before you called wicked.” he snaps, venom practically running down his chin. “Wait what? She should've turnt by now-” “just do the fucking thing” his voice raising, hes already been around her long enough then needed let alone speaking. Without warning Teresa cuts into Newt's neck, pain simmers into his nape as if boiling water was poured into his veins. “She got her treatment from you, correct?” Teresa asks almost hesitantly. “yes.” Newt replies bluntly. Teresa once again without warning cuts into his nape, slightly deeper this time before pulling out his tag. She uses a clean cloth to wipe up the blood, she presses hard as she does this. Once she's finished Newt quickly stands before walking off to check out the wicked suits. 

Once dinner rolled around it was actually quite peaceful, Gally had brought some rations that compared to newts usual palate may as well be a 5 star meal. Conversation flowed and even Gally seemed to be in a good mood! This was one of the most peaceful moments they've all had in awhile, no talk of wicked, no fear, just a bunch of teens laughing and talking. After they get minho maybe it will be like this every night, hearing everyone laugh especially Thomas fills Newt up with pure hope. After tomorrow they could really be free. Actually free. 

Rations are slowly eaten, conversation turns to yawns and heavy eyelids and almost everyone except Newt, Thomas and Gally remain. “Hey I’m gonna go to bed, you coming?” Thomas asks Newt as he stands up to go find a relatively comfortable corner. “Yeah I’m done too-“ “Newt can you stay for a minute? I need to talk you.” Gally interrupts, his face not of anger and authority but.. is that pity? “Uh sure.. Tommy you go I’ll be there in abit'' Thomas shrugs and walks off into the darkness of the church, once he’s no longer visible newt turns back around expectantly with a brow raised, “not here.” Gally insists before rising to his feet, Newt curiously follows him to the back of the church away from the others secluded fully by darkness. Newt can barely see Gally avoiding his gaze in what Newt can barely make out as guilt? “So what’s up?” Newt asks, getting straight to the point.

“You know Thomas can’t come right?” Gally stated, looking towards Newt. Anger bubbles in his stomach once he says this. “What?! Why??” Newt perfectly knows why, Gally thinks he’ll compromise the mission, go full crank. “We both know he’s a liability, he’s a danger not just for Minho but for you to.” “What are you on about??” Newt spits back violently, not caring if he wakes the others. “I know I haven’t seen you in.. however long but it doesn’t take a genius to figure out you care about the greenie. And if it were to come down to you or him you would pick him, you don’t exactly have a fucking track record of putting yourself above others. The mission can’t afford that, Minho can’t afford that.” 

Newt goes to say something back but his throat doesn't let him, because the thing is. Gally’s right. If it came down to Newt or Thomas he’d pick Thomas in a heartbeat, but Newt had made a promise to him. you're not leaving my side. Got it? The words ring in Newt's ears, he can't leave Thomas now. He's at his most vulnerable state. He needs him more than anything, he can't go back on his word. Especially not now. He can't ask Thomas not to save Minho when he's the reason they are even able to do this, he can't leave him. “I can't leave him gally, i made him a promise.” gally’s face tightens in frustration, annoyance more than anything. “You can't ask that of me.” Newt adds on firmly. Gally of all people knows that arguing with Newt is a losing battle, despite that he still searches every inch of his face for even a slight chink in his armor. Newt doesn't back down, he keeps his face stone cold. “You can't ask him to do that.” his voice lowering slightly, his brows furrow. “What if he cranks out newt?! What then?!” he begins to shout but lowers his voice, his face scrunched tightly. “He won't. I’m going to get him that bloody serum even if it fucking kills me.” before Gally even has a moment to register Newt's words he's already turned on his heels storming off in rage. 

Newt manages to find Thomas in a dark corner, the only thing illuminating him is the candles lit inside the church and even then he can barely make out that Thomas's hand is up his shirt scratching rapidly. “Don't scratch love you'll only make it worse” his head flicks up rapidly, his eyes wide full of terror for a second. He stares at Newt quizzically, his brows furrowed as if Newt’s a puzzle before his eyes light up and soften in recognition. The sight before him makes Newt's heart pang with guilt, he slowly walks over to Thomas and sits beside him. He extends his arms and Thomas accepts and allows Newt to wrap his arms around him as he always does, Newt leans across Thomas and grabs Thomas’s bag which was next to him before placing it at his side so he can rummage around for a cloth. He finds the cloth he used the night before. Guess it’ll have to do. He thought as he bit his tongue, Newt gestured the cloth to Thomas. “Are you bleeding?” He mumbles as if he can't see the fact that Thomas's hands are covered in blood. Thomas nods, almost ashamed. “C'mon I'll patch you up, you need new bandages anyway.” “Are you sure? It's super gross- “ “yes i'm sure. Slim it and turn around.'' Newt cuts him off quickly, Thomas turns to face him and lifts his shirt and discards it on top of his jacket that's beside him. Newt rummages around in Thomas's bag for the last of his bandages and rubbing alcohol, he turns to face him and the sight horrifies him. The once 3 almost straight lines are almost torn apart and scratched up, dried and fresh blood drips down his chest, black and green oily puss along side it. The once thin and small black veins are twice their size and triple the length, the darkness fully visible and they pulse like worms beneath his skin. Newt knows that flare victims tend to unwillingly hurt themselves, ripping out their own eyes, biting off fingers and such. But seeing Thomas do that breaks his heart into pieces. How could it progress so fast?? Usually it takes weeks, sometimes a month to even get to this stage and it's been days. 

Stress. Of course. No amount of love and softenness and deter that, their amount to go march into wicked for fuck sake, of course its progressing rapidly what else could Newt expect?? That Thomas is somehow super human and that the flare would progress slowly?? How stupid. How fucking stupid of him to hope. Of course this would happen! Why wouldnt it? Thomas is already showing late signs of the flare, self mutilation, aggressive speech and that look in his eyes moments before, is his memory already deteriorating? How long until he forgets the mission at hand? Until he forgets minho? brenda? Frypan? Jorge? Gally? Him?? 

“So doc how's it looking?” Thomas says sarcastically in an attempt to cheer him up. Newt rolls his eyes before swallowing the lump in his throat, he drenches the cloth in rubbing alcohol, he quickly wipes down Thomas’s hands because there’s no way all that gore and pus could be comfortable, counts down from three and presses the cloth to Thomas's chest. Thomas groans in pain but doesn't flinch or move away from him, his eyes sewn shut and lips pressed together tightly. Any humor left in him seeping from his wounds, Newt can feel Thomas's rapid heartbeat as he cleans out the smaller cuts and scrapes. The smell nauseates Newt, once he finishes he pauses for a moment giving Thomas a minute to breath. “I'm up to the hard part now, i'll make it quick I promise” Thomas grips onto Newt's shoulder, takes in a large gulp of air before nodding quickly.

Newt drenches the cloth again and counts down quickly, Thomas's grip tightens slightly as he does. He quickly places the cloth on his chest, his fingers moving as fast as they can to get the pus out. As seconds pass Thomas's grip only tightens painfully and he starts mumbling incoherently to himself almost angrily, as if he's arguing with his brain to stay put. “Can you go any slower??” Thomas grumbles angrily, Newt ignores him knowing it's not Thomas speaking to him. After a few more seconds Newt removes his hand “There. All done.” he says urgently, Thomas’s eyes flick open. He looks at his chest, then Newt, his chest, then finally he locks his gaze onto Newt. His eyes were full of curiosity. Before Newt can even ask what's wrong Thomas brings his hand up to Newt's head, his fingers softly run through his hair all the way to the back of his head and eventually down his neck. Fire trails whenever his hand moves. His hand finds its way to Newt's jaw, Thomas cups it with his hand and turns Newt's head as if he's looking at an ancient sculpture. “are you ok??” Newt says slowly, crimson spreads across his face. 

“You're so.. Familiar.” 

Whatever is left of Newt's heart sinks all the way down to his feet, Thomas, the only who has seen him at his worst, Thomas the boy he would sneak around with, Thomas with his chapped lips and eyes that seek him out in a crowd, thomas who held him in cold nights in the scorch doesn't know who he is. His whole body feels heavy, his eyes fill with tears that he tries to hold back. “What do you remember?” he manages to choke out. “I care about you, I know that much. And I trust you.” better than nothing. Thomas’s eyes search his face, no freckle, acne scar, or facial feature left unturned. Newt locks his eyes onto Thomas’s staring into his soul, trying to see exactly what he's thinking. “You.. keep a knife in your waistband?” Newt nods at the fact, he doesn't know how to help him remember. He takes Thomas's hand that isn't on his face and intertwines it with his, Thomas reciprocates without hesitation. “I have known you ever since I can remember and I can't remember your name!” he announces harishily. “It's ok take your time” Thomas leans in closer, fully examining Newt's face again. His eyes desperate and angry with himself, he squints as if he’ll find something that will jog his memory. He's impossibly close, his nose almost brushing with Newts. his heart leaps out of his chest at the closeness, his eyes flick to thomas’s lips and back up to his eyes. 

Newt leans in a little before pausing, Thomas doesn't back away. Newt closes the distance between them and kisses Thomas impossibly soft, as if he would shatter into pieces if he's not careful. Thomas holds onto Newt's jaw like a lifeline, like it's the only thing keeping him from slipping away. Newt pulls away barely, Thomas's lips and eyes glistening in the candlelight that illuminates the church. his lips brush against Thomas's as he mumbles, “does that jog your memory?” Thomas's face sparks in recognition before mumbling back “hmm maybe another would do the trick.” Newt hums back before kissing him again, a little harder this time. Thomas pulls Newt in by the waist, Newt basically ends up in his lap. The kiss is impossibly slow and tender and he's loving every second of it, time stops and for a few minutes it's just them, No Wicked, no Janson, no fear for the next day. It's just teeth against teeth, smiles against smiles, shushing each other and holding back laughter. Warmth courses through Newt's entire body, this is the best he's felt in forever. His heart stitching itself back together, it feels like they have all the time in the world. 

Eventually lips part, limbs untangle and bandages are done and it's just them holding hands in that small dark corner of the church. Thomas’s head leans on Newt's shoulder, his breathing soft and steady as he peacefully sleeps. Newt refuses to worry about the next day, or anything for that matter. This is the one night he's just going to sleep with nothing on his mind, and that's exactly what he does. 

The next day is spent planning, double checking plans, trying on wicked suits, triple checking maps, they run it again and again for any possible flaws. The plan is simple: get in, get minho, get the serum, shoot it straight into Thomas right then and there, get out. If everything is where it needs to be it should work flawlessly, they’ll be back in the safe haven happy as ever. Newt repeats the promise he made to himself in his head: I won't let Thomas die, I won't let Thomas die, I won't let Thomas die. Like a prayer over and over, a solemn oath that can't be broken. As if this action alone will keep death's icy cold hands from Thomas’s radiating warmth. The next thing newt knows they are marching through the sensors at wicked front doors. 

Newt keeps his head up and locked refusing to look anywhere but forward, he doesn't dare to breathe as they pass through the sensors. The sensor flashes green and he holds back the urge to sigh from the relief that floods through him, they walk through wicked headquarters, Newt leading forwards with Teresa in the middle and Thomas up the back keeping her up to speed. Soon gally slides into their group almost effortlessly, Newt forgets Gallys a soldier. He's trained for this, the past six months of his life have led up to this very day. Gally marches in front of Newt, leading them to a stairwell. Gally grabs Teresa by the sleeve and harshly pulls her to the keypad next to the door, she reluctantly places her thumb against it and the door opens with a hiss almost immediately. 

Newt storms in, gun up looking around frantically. Newt, Thomas and Teresa start to make their way down the stairs before Gally announces “wait wait i can get in here!” he lifts his mask before thomas replies with “throw me the walkie” gally chucks the walkie to thomas, thomas catches it and goes down the stairs. Newt hears him coughing as he goes, Newt looks at Teresa who's already looking at him. “Newt i think-” “slim it teresa” he retorted quickly. Newt watches as gally drills into the console on the wall, sparks fly as the metal wails at being torn apart. 

Thomas comes back up the stairs, one hand clutching onto the railing and the other radio in hand. “Frypan-” he hacks again before continuing “we’re in how you doing?” “yeah yeah i'm getting there, tell minho hi for me!” gally flings the console open and messes with the wires and whatnot while thomas speaks to brenda on the radio checking in on her as well, newt stands between them gun in hand incase they get caught. “All right, let go!” gally shouts as he stuck something to override wicked systems into the console before slamming it shut. 

Gally leads the way, the twist and turn through corridors and doors. The maps previously studied being brought to life, Newt's heart races as they journey towards the immunes. What state will Minho be in? Skinny and frail? Beat up and bruised?? Absolutely insane from torture?? All the possibilities make his skin crawl. Eventually they make it to the door, Thomas takes the lead gun up waiting for someone to step through. Soon enough someone does and pure chaos breaks out.

Thomas shoots the guy and they storm in guns ablaze, shooting all wicked employees in the room. Bodies drop and convulse on the floor and Newt goes to a cell and opens it, as he does he takes his mask off. When he does the kids in the room physically relax at the realization he's not a wicked guard, the sight is truly sad. What have they done to these kids for them to react like that? He quickly scans the room for Minho, to find nothing. Newt is already walking to the other side of the room when Thomas calls out “Newt go check the other side”, his voice firm and authoritarian. When on missions Newt and Thomas sync as one, doing things before the other asks, covering for each other and sensing when the other is in danger. They work together as a flawless unit. On the rare occasion they do anything alone they barely need to speak to each other, one look, one movement and they know what to do, this is extremely convenient for them and irritating for everyone else. 

Newt goes over to the next cell expecting Minho to be there, pumped up and ready to go. Dread fills him when he sees he isn’t there, he storms over to Teresa and grabs her wrist hard “where’s Minho.” He grumbles, his voice lowering dangerously. “I don’t know-“ his grip tightens and her eyes twitch as she fights to yelp in pain. “If you let go I can fucking check.” Newt clenches his jaw before shoving her away, she glares at him threateningly. Newt raises his brow and she turns around to check where he went. 

“Is that bloody vault open??” He almost shouts in impatience, Newt is usually a very patient person but every second that passes the flare eats away Thomas's brain and that fact makes Newt tip dangerously close to the end of his patience. “It's gonna take awhile, don’t rush me!” Gally barks back as he works on the vault. “He’s in the medical wing..” Teresa says breathlessly, this isn’t something she anticipated. “Alright then, let’s get a move on” Newt says as he moves to the exit, “that’s on the other side of the building-“ she begins, “does it look like I fucking care?? Let’s. Move.” He restrains himself from shouting at her, she moves towards Newt, Thomas following close behind- Thomas is following her??

“Tommy, where the hell are you going??” He raises a brow, his tone shifting from anger to confusion. “With you??” He answers equally as confused. “You need to stay here and wait for the serum-“ he begins patiently before Gally announces “it’s fine I’ve got it!! Get Minho and meet us around back!!” Newt looks between the vault and Thomas a few times, he won’t lie Thomas would be a massive help but what if they don’t make it back in time?? What if something happens- “Newt cmon let go” Thomas says, snapping him out of his thoughts, Thomas smiles at him for a moment and Newt breaks. “.. fine.” He announced before he, Thomas and Teresa leave the room. 

They walk through wicked corridors once more, going up stairs and through doors til they reach an elevator. Newt clicks it impatiently, cursing under his breath when it doesn’t immediately open. When it opens, Newt and Thomas immediately walk in, Teresa following suit. The elevator doors slowly start to close-

A hand reaches between the doors. 

The doors slowly crawl back open to reveal a sight that makes Newt's stomach drop. Janson in all of his rat faced glory. The putrid man steps inside and for a moment newt thinks he is going to pull out his revolver and shoot him and Thomas dead, his hands tighten around his gun as Janson steps next to Teresa. Oh yeah we have masks on newt dumbly realized, newt mostly blocks him out and focuses on Thomas. Watching him from the corner of his eye, waiting for a twitch or tic in case all hell breaks loose. 

“Thomas is here.” The ratman announces.

Well fuck. 

Teresa turns to face Janson and somehow Newt's grip on his gun gets impossibly tighter as his heart pumps in his ears. 

“The surveillance picked him up outside the walls, Ava didn’t want you to know but if he does try to contact you.. well I’d like to think I would be your first call.” Newt focuses purely on Teresa, for any sign or signal she could possibly be giving Janson to tell him yeah about that he’s actually right behind you!! But instead she mumbles “are you going to kill him..?” The care in her tone makes Newt feel sick with anger, she didn’t care when she called wicked and he could’ve died but suddenly she cares now?-

“Would that be a problem?” 

Newt now has decided that the moment he gets the chance he’s going to murder Janson. 

The elevator beeps and Teresa gives a comment newt doesn’t care to hear, she walks out quickly and newt follows close behind purposely bumping into Janson on the way out, a little harder then intended but aw well he doesn’t care. By the sounds of it Thomas did the same, he grins to himself for a moment before continuing on.

—

“Newt you need to listen to me, that serum won’t save Thomas! It might buy him some time but-“ “shut it Teresa.” Thomas spits, pushing her along. “Newt, listen!! You want to save Thomas don’t you??” Newt nearly shoots her right then and there but instead he forces himself to choke out “just open the bloody door” “there’s something about your blood!” She opens the door as she says this and Newt silently walks in, Thomas following suit, he uses all his will power to ignore her and not shoot her brains out. “I promise I can protect you-“ 

Newt snaps

“Oh yeah?!?! Like you protected Minho?! If didn’t need to rescue FUCKING him THOMAS WOULDNT HAVE THE BLOODY FLARE-“ Thomas promptly takes the lead by gently but quickly pulling him back, Newt lets him because if he kept shouting at her every wicked guard within the area would’ve heard him. That's when he begins scolding her as well but in a more quiet fashion… unlike newt. 

“How many more people is it going to take?! How many more people are they going to have to round up, Torture, And kill?!” He refrains from screaming, scolding her through gritted teeth, mask off fully open to anyone who rounds a corner. Newt goes to tell him to put his mask back on before Teresa spits back “it stops when we find a cure-!” Thomas pulls his pistol out of his holster and under Teresa's chin. “THERE IS NO GODDAMN CURE.” So much for being quiet. He's screaming at her now, the black veins that now have knitted themselves around his neck pulse angrily, hungry for blood. 

“Don't waste your breath Teresa!” Janson calls out, newt steps back out next to Thomas who has now pointed his gun at Teresa’s temple. “Tell him to back off!! TELL HIM TO BACK OFF!!” He screams in her ear, he's got her in a head lock as he pushes the gun harder against her head. “Hey Thomas cmon.. it’s me. I’ve known you longer than you can remember, you're not gonna shoot her. Flare or not.” 

Jansons gun is pointed directly towards Thomas as he slowly steps closer, Newt aims his gun towards jansons head, his eyes fully locked on his fingers that rest around the trigger. The safety is clicked off as far as Newt can tell so he’s waiting, watching for any tick, twitch or slight movement in his fingers because if he tries anything, Janson is going to need a headstone. 

“You don’t think so?!” Thomas barks out at Janson almost manically, as if it’s the funniest thing someone has ever said to him. “Ok.. go on then.” Janson lowers the gun by his side and Newt’s heartbeat steadily decreases significantly. “Shoot. Her. Prove me wrong!” He calls back coolly, confident in the fact Thomas won’t shoot, and for once Newt agrees with him. Thomas wouldn't shoot someone like this, Teresa or not. It's not in his moral code. So what the hell are they going to do-

Teresa pushes both Thomas and Newt through the entrance behind them and pulls some sort of red alarm that causes thick heavy glass to come from the top of the doorway and clicks with the floor, a siren sounds, blasting through the entire building. Newt just stares at Teresa, why would she do that? Why would she possibly- 

Those doors aren’t opening back up.

Newt pulls off his mask since clearly the plan has gone to complete and utter shit just so Janson can see his face as he walks after Thomas. 

Newt and Thomas run through the medical wing, dipping into corners, shooting wicked guards and such. At one point they come to a fork in the labyrinth, Thomas sees Ava holding his gun up prepared to shoot, Newt turns towards a different hallway and sees Janson, gun in hand, about to shoot. “THOMAS NO” he screeches, grabbing onto Thomas’s shirt and pulling him into a hallway to avoid the cross fire of bullets that spray through the hallway. 

They continue on like this for a while, Thomas slowly but surely is deteriorating. Not but much, but every so often he misses a shot or almost trips over his own two feet. Luckily for Thomas, Newt is on a mission. He simultaneously covers for himself and Thomas at the same time when needed, when Thomas’s reactions delay Newt has already shot the soldier and a few more. I won’t let Thomas die, the sentence rings through his head and courses through his whole being, he breathes and exhales this promise. Anytime they run out of ammo, Newt has already bagged new guns from once convulsing bodies on the ground and shoves a gun into Thomas’s hands before his own. How his leg hasn’t given out? Newt truly doesn’t know, his leg screams and cries out at every step but it’s as if the pain is just another sensation, another thing. He runs, punches, kicks through sheer will power and determination alone. All the fighting blurs to him, he flies into autopilot. Grenade, bodies. guns, bodies. punches, bodies.

Newt and Thomas are out of ammo and newt just pulled a stunt with a grenade, they turn to run down a hallway until a wicked soldier screams at them to get on the ground. Pure fear lines the blood that travels across Newts muscles and bone, his eyes frantically flick around for something anything-

Minho rams into the guard screaming his head off, grabs the soldier and shoves him into a window causing glass to shatter all across the floor. Once he does he just screeches a low guttural sound of pure pain, grief and anger. It takes him a moment before he even register Newt and Thomas are even there, he stands there eyes wide in shock and disbelief. As if he’s finally lost his marbles and he’s dreaming.

It takes Newt and Thomas a second too, Newt feels like he just came out of a fever dream of screams of the injured and safeguarding Thomas with his life he truly forgot how to feel. For the first time since they entered the medical wing, Newt feels something real, relief. His leg threatens to give out right then and there as Thomas and Newt both run over to him and pull him so tight into a hug newt wonders if his lungs will ever fill with air again, but he doesn’t care. He would struggle to breath all his life if it meant keeping Thomas and Minho safe. 

“Is this real?” Minho asks, genuinely asks. His face shines with happiness and relief that his longing has finally come to an end, before Thomas and Newt can even nod back they hear wicked soldiers storm into the hallway guns ablaze. no time for catching up over tea, they are in a war zone. 

Newt adds to his oath. I won’t let Thomas and Minho die. Minho’s stride is nothing like it used to be in the glade, he doesn’t radiate confidence or steadiness in his feet. No no. His feet and muscles are unsure or where to take him, like getting on a bike for the first time in years. Despite that he is still fast and strong as he runs despite the clear malnutrition and torture his body has been through, no where near the level he was at before but his body miraculously carry’s him, or at least is attempting to, like a runner.   

They all push on, Thomas despite the flare, Newt despite his limp, and Minho despite his treatment they push harder than they ever have, for freedom. For the future. For a promise of a safe tomorrow. They sprint down a hallway until they get cornered by a handful of wicked guards, “IN HERE” Thomas yells as he pushes open a door before locking it behind him, Newt and Minho push a shelf in front of it the moment Thomas backs away. They all connect in sync. Newt and Minho back away from the door, standing next to Thomas who looks just as confused and petrified as him. 

“Well shit.” Thomas mumbled just before the sound of a drill cutting into metal assaults newts ears, sparks fly from top to bottom on the opening of the door. “Any ideas?!” Minho shouts as they all back away even further, Thomas looks out the window and back towards Newt and Minho “maybe.” 

The next thing Newt knows Minho and Thomas are chucking some metal tube out of the window, the glass shatters loudly as the metal cylinder falls. Newt runs next to Thomas and Minho and watches as it splashes into the dark pool below. 

“Ok.. it’s doable. Just need uh- a running start.” Thomas mutters clearly unsure with himself, he backs up from the window as he says this. Newt gives Minho a is he fucking nuts look and Minho reciprocates with the exact same facial expression. 

Well at least everyone is on the same page! 

“you sure about this??” Minho asks as they all prepare to dive out of the window. “Not really!” Thomas replies just as unsure as before. “Nice pep talk.” “Yeah.. we’re all bloody inspired.” That’s when the sound of a bang and a door being kicked open rings through the room, without hesitation they all sprint towards the window and fall down all 20ish stories. Newt feels the wind in his hair and his stomach falling as he drops, he’s felt this feeling before. His screams of terror are luckily met with Thomas and Minhos screams also, the feeling of the water crashing against his body comes faster and harder than expected. 

Newt hasn’t felt being underwater since in the glade, he remembers the early days when he, Minho, Alby and all the original gladers would swim through the small lake they had. And even then he could see the bottom of the lake, even in the deepest part the sandy ground was only inches beneath him. This water does not glisten a bright blue in the sunlight and bring laughter, no. The water is dark and impossibly deep, it makes sense that even wicked pools harbor dark secrets. 

Newt pulls himself out of the water with only a slight struggle, Minho does the same. Newt has to grab Thomas and lift him up and help him get to his feet, it’s getting worse. He swallows the lump in his throat along with his worry before he hears heavy footsteps and guns cocking. 

“Oh you’ve got to be kidding.” Thomas mumbles as they all turn around, they see 4 wicked guards barking orders at them, Newt desperately looks around for any route of escape. Maybe we can jump in the water and book it? No we would get shot, can I shoot them before they shoot Thomas or Minho? No, it's 4 guys. Even if I do manage to shoot one of them first at least one of us will get shot-

BANG BANG BANG

one of the wicked guards shoots the other three, thank you, gally!!

Gally removes his mask, looks at the broken window above and back towards Newt and the others soaking wet clothes before saying “you guys are nuts. Cmon!” 

They all break out into a sprint, after a minute or two of running they find cover. Newt slides down quickly next to Gally before asking “Gally how far are the tunnels??” “Maybe twelve blocks from here-“ he begins to reply before he’s interrupted by the sound of Thomas hacking and coughing violently. Newt's gut falls all the way down to his toes and worry fogs his judgment. “We can make it” Gally says, trying to ease Newt's nerves to no avail. 

Newt sits there staring at Thomas as he talks to Minho, he can’t help but think about Thomas turning before they make it back to the tunnels. No. No way. Newt will drag Thomas’s limp body through the city before that happens, they’ll make it. They have to.

Newt didn’t even notice Minho sliding next to him as he says “hey, when did he-?” Minho chokes on his words, unable to vocalize Thomas’s condition. His brows furrowed with worry as he looked between Newt and Thomas, “he’ll be fine, just gotta get to Brenda.” Newt manages to reply with, Newt quickly goes over to Thomas and says gently “cmon Tommy we gotta go” he grabs Thomas’s hand with one hand and uses his other hand to grab the fabric of his wicked suit to pull him up, Thomas struggles to gets to his feet and groans as he attempts too, his throat clearly filled with a sickening substance. Newt ignores the sound and gets Thomas to his feet.

When Thomas manages to face Newt his eyes are mostly hollow but he’s still there, Newt looks into his eyes and can tell Thomas is looking back. Newt places a hand on Thomas’s shoulder in case he loses his footing and softly cups his face with the other before mumbling “you’ll be fine, alright?” Thomas barely manages to nod as Newt wraps Thomas’s arm around his shoulder before turning his attention back to Minho and Gally. 

Minho rushes over to wrap Thomas’s other arm around his shoulder, he takes a significant amount of Thomas’s weight off of Newt's shoulders. Gally leads the way as they run through the city, if Minho wasn’t carrying Thomas Newt doesn’t know if he could’ve. His leg whines at him to collapse, to give out, to give up. Newt refuses to collapse even though his body begs him to and ignores the searing pain that shoots up his body every time he steps. 

At one point bombs start raining down, Gally makes some sort of comment newt doesn’t listen to, as all he can hear is Thomas’s shaky liquid filled breathing and the coughing and hacking that becomes more frequent with every minute that passes. Another dreadful reminder of Thomas’s infection as if the literal weight on his shoulders isn’t enough.

“The tunnels are right up ahead-” Gally begins to announce as the sounds of more bombs raining down onto the city interrupts him violently, Newt and Minho lower Thomas as they all take cover. The smell of gunpowder and fire burn the insides of newts noise, a full battle between wicked and the right arm taking place not even 50 meters away makes the ground vibrate and shake aggressively, urging them to move on. “LETS GO LETS GO” Gally commands, Newt and Minho grab Thomas’s arms once more and half help, half carry him through the streets that rage with violence and vengeance. 

They barely make it even a few blocks before they are forced to take cover once more, the realization dawns on all of them. They aren’t going to make it. Newt reaches for his radio to tell Brenda to leave since Thomas is clearly too weak to do so before as if this action alone summoned her Newt hears her chime in on the radio. “How you guys holding up?” She asks concerned, Newt can almost see her brows furrowing, “bloody awful, you guys need to leave without us we aren’t gonna make-“ “no. No absolutely not, I’m not leaving you guys alright?!” She interrupts him harshly, she sounds almost offended that Newt would even suggest that. Newt is stunned and doesn’t know how to reply to her, that’s when he hears the faint sound of a berg roaring through his radio. “Don’t worry newt!! We're coming to you, our rides here!!” Before Newt can even ask what she’s talking about the radio clicks, signifying she’s gone. 

—

“We’re almost there!!” Gally shouts encouragingly, even Newt's good leg isn’t in the best state, Newt doesn’t even want to think about his bad leg as he desperately tries to ignore the unforgiving pain that shrieks at him to collapse to the ground. “You need to- you need to leave me” Thomas struggles to say with his clogged throat, his hacks up sticky black liquid mid sentence. His voice emits full defeat, begging for death. Newt, Minho and Gally don’t even humor his cries as they push through the city. 

Explosions ignite ahead, Newt can barely hear Gallys orders as they take cover from the explosive balls of death that rain all around them. Thomas’s head slowly moves around, taking in the whole scene with his eyes wide and mouth slightly agape, truly perplexed at the sight before him. His eyes go from souless to full of life in an instance begging to be left behind, insisting they need to run, to leave. Black oil-like substance drips from his mouth and onto his uniform, black veins pulse violently all across his face now, his body limp. His muscles refusing to cooperate with him, eventually he doesn’t even hold his head up anymore as he leans his head back against the concrete behind him closing his eyes, mumbling incoherent pleas to be left to die. 

“Minho, you need to go ahead, get the serum and come back. Gally can cover you.” Newt says, not asks. His voice dead as he speaks, his eyes locked on Thomas’s deteriorating frame. “What-?” “Minho please.” He twists his neck to face Minho, his voice wobbles as he speaks. His throat tightens, his lip quivering. Minho looks between Newt and Thomas before murmuring a barely audible “alright.” He grasps Thomas’s shoulder, attempting to smile encouragingly but it more comes out as sympathy and concern before choking out “I’ll see you later shank.” Thomas lifts his head weakly before muttering, “thanks man.” He smiles tiredly before his face droops once more. Gally presses his lips into a tight line before nodding at newt, his gesture speaking volumes. Gally acknowledges that Newt won’t let anything happen to Thomas, that Thomas is in good hands. 

“if it were to come down to you or him you would pick him” 

Before Newt could even respond with a nod Gally yelled for Minho to go and they ran off into the fire and ash, smoke stings Newt's nose and makes his eyes water. Newt turned to look at Thomas, his breath rigid and his pupils blown in fury, his chest heaving with every gulp of air he took. Black liquid entirely covers his chin now, his speech disorganized and wrong. “Newt you- you need to leave! I dont- I cant-” Newt can barely make out Thomas’s words as they gargle against the liquid that encases his throat, “we need to leave, right now!!” Newt's tone is desperate as he shouts over the shrieks and gunfire. Newt grips onto Thomas wrists, Thomas weakly pulls against him. Newt tugs again, harder this time. Unforgiving. Refusing to let Thomas give up, this time Thomas cooperates and lets Newt basically carry him as he stumbles on his feet in an attempt to walk with him. Newt wraps one of Thomas’s arms around his shoulders, Newt wraps one of his arms around the stumbling boy's waist to keep him up right. 

Newt's own body wobbles dangerously as he practically drags Thomas away from the collapsing city, his whole body is fueled by determination and grief alone. If Thomas's pulse went to a stop, Newt would, too, fall with him. Newt is speaking the whole time they stumble together, “there you go-” “ok put your leg up there's a curb-” “one, two, one, two-” “were almost there I promise-” “just a little further-” thomas really does try, he puts all his effort into every step, his groaning and cries only interrupting by nonsensical mumbling. The black liquid never stops dripping from his mouth as they move, leaving a trail oil like substance for anyone who dared to follow them. 

Thomas goes limp. 

Thomas’s body gives up on him, resulting in Newt stumbling down to the ground with him. Pure euphoria shoots through every vein, muscle and bone in his body at the collapse, Newt wishes he could lay on the ground forever. Watch the bombs die down, witness as the scorching sun rises and falls day in and day out and feel the earth take him into a slow peaceful death. That wouldn't be so bad, no? I won't let thomas die 

Newt forces himself to his feet, he stumbles and fails twice before regaining his footing. All while ignoring Thomas’s pleads to be left behind, forgotten, to pay for the deaths of everyone. He too, wants to let earth take him quietly. They were always so similar weren't they? Newt wraps Thomas's arms around his neck, Newt's back pressed against Thomas’s stomach as he tries to lift the boy's frail feet off the ground. He hears cries of hell-bent determination and agony rip through his ears, he can't tell who's screaming anymore. Maybe they both are, that would make sense. His thought barely made itself out over the chaos, somehow the 6-8 steps Newt managed to carry Thomas felt like enough pain for a lifetime before Newt fell backwards, Thomas’s body weight was too much for him to carry on his back. He doesn't even remember hitting the ground before he's on his feet again, hooking his arms under Thomas's arms as he drags him relentlessly. 

“CMON THOMAS” he wails the loudest he thinks his voice will ever go, every other step he falls down. After the fourth time he physically can't stand, his leg tremors violently. “We- we need to-” His chest heaves, Newt's jaw fully open in an attempt to fill his lungs to absolute capacity. Newt doesn't even realize Thomas's shoulders were pressed against his lower stomach until he rolls off him sluggishly. Newt rolls his head to the left of him where Thomas now lays, the only signs of life being his back taking moves every time he breathes and the hacking that comes along with it. “We need to- to keep moving” Newt closes his eyes as he speaks, for a moment newt hopes childishly that maybe this is all one big terrifying nightmare. That he will wake up in the safe haven vince is always talking about, a beach, green grass with colorful flowers he wishes he could learn the names of, a sun that doesnt turn your skin red and make it peel off painfully, and that maybe he will wake up in a hammock to the sounds of gentle waves. With Thomas nearby sleeping peacefully, the sun bouncing off his chocolatey hair as his breathing is deep and unclogged. Everyone would wake up or sleep in if they chose to, then have breakfast. Newt can almost hear everyone's laughter and talking, Thomas, Minho, Frypan, Gally, Brenda, Treasa- 

No.

He can actually hear Treasa. 

“Your blood Newt, it kills the virus! You need to- '' Newt is pulled out of his fantasyland, the rest of her words drowning out as an unimportant buzz in the back of his mind. His eyes snap open, he leans against one of his elbows and looks around for Treasa, Newt realizes she's speaking over a speaker. She's still at the tower, Newt turns his head to face Thomas, to see what he thinks of the fact Newt is the cure. 

…

That's not Thomas.

Authors note!!: hey guys!! i hope you enjoyed this chapter <3 I'm so sorry i took so long to get this done, its hard to write at my dads house since i have to use my phone lol :( also super duper sorry i cut it off like that 😭 i originally planned to do the rest of the scene but then the next chapter would've been significantly shorter then the rest so i do apologize.

this chapter was SO fun to write!! Newt acts a lot differently in this fic then in the original movie and there is a reason, in the death cure HES the one dying so obviously he's weaker and also he's just trying to rescue Minho and not be a burden to the mission. but in this fic that obviously isn't the case, he's so angry at everything thats happened and Thomas slowly losing himself is his tipping point as he slowly loses his patience for everyone except Thomas, Minho and Brenda. he's so determined to keep everyone else alive he slowly loses HIMSELF in the process and i tried to highlight through his anger towards Teresa and Janson and i hope i did an ok job at giving this idea justice.

anyways ill stop my yapping lol, hope your pumped for the next chapter!!!! :D

master list is above but here it is again incase you missed it

PREVIOUS -- NEXT

[goatmati]

Aitana Bonmatí, one step away from the Golden Ball: "I suffer because I always want more".

In her book United We Are Stronger (2022) she says that as a child she was "cold and hard". Why does she say that? She answers in the photos, sitting on the visitors' bench at the Johan Cruyff stadium: "My childhood was not easy because I was the only girl in a man's world, and the fights, the insults I received, I think I kept them to myself, I was not able to get them out and I simply put on a shield.”

“Sometimes you would end up in fisticuffs.”

“Sometimes, it wasn't the usual. The usual were the insults.”

“They got you fried.”

“Quite a lot.”

Andrés Iniesta writes by message: "I am proud that Guardiola compares me with the best player in the world today". The prodigy says of Bonmatí: "What I would highlight most is her evolution: she has gone from being a good team player to having an increasingly important role to the point of currently leading the national team and Barça along with Alexia Putellas and other great players". He emphasizes her technical quality, her speed, her skill, her goal sense and "her great winning mentality".

Her former coach emphasizes one word: ambition. Aitana Bonmatí's ambition.

“What is ambition?”

“Wanting to be the best in everything, having the desire to improve every day and to reach the top in all areas," the player answers.

“Where does that come from?”

“From me.”

“But where does it come from?”

“I've never asked myself that question. I've always been very competitive, very ambitious, a winner, haven't I? Since I was a little girl. I don't know, I would say that it doesn’t come from my family, they have many virtues, but they are not competitive and even less so in sports.”

“I don't allow myself to fail.” Too self-demanding?

“Yes, but over the years I have learned not to be so hard, to understand that one is not perfect and that mistakes sometimes make you improve.”

Bonmatí this year has won the World Cup, the Champions League, the League and the Super Cup, and has been MVP of the World Cup, MVP of the Champions League, MVP of the Super Cup final and best player of the year for UEFA. She should be satisfied, at the very least. "I don't know, she's insatiable," responds Cristian Martín along with Ignasi Cardó, her representatives.

Bonmatí knows about the double-edged sword of perfectionism. She deals with it with her club psychologists and in private therapy. "I'm rarely happy with my games because I always want more, but I'm managing it better and better. I still suffer, but not as much as before. I allow myself to be a person and I allow myself to fail."

In the last World Cup, after winning the match that gave them the pass to the final, she spoke with Mayca Jiménez, a journalist from Relevo. There were a few days left before the final and Jiménez asked her if they would celebrate that night. "No celebration", was the answer, followed by the need to sleep eight hours and other comments about essential guidelines that should not be skipped, not even that night. Jiménez underlines her courage in standing up for herself. When Japan beat them in the group stage of the World Cup, Bonmatí spoke to all the media, Spaniards and foreigners, in good English. She pledged that they would learn from the defeat. She said: "I ask for forgiveness.”

"Ambition is wanting to be the best," says Bonmatí.

She says she has seen women's football grow a lot, but points out that it still has a long way to go. "This is the beginning," she says. On what is lacking in women's football, she prefers not to say just one thing out of the many she would have to say. Although she mentions the obvious "precariousness" of some fields in Liga F.

She reflects on language. Should we continue to say women's football? She thinks not and proposes: "Either specify masculine or feminine whenever football is said, or not specify and that according to the context it is understood". She praises Barça's vision in betting on non-hegemonic sports sections and declares herself a "convinced Culé", although she had an offer from Olympique Lyon in 2021 that gave her pause for thought. "Important decisions should not be taken from one day to the next. I like to evaluate all the options," she explains. In December 2021, she renewed her contract until 2025.

She has recovered a bit of her tone. When asked what she thinks of the cliché that a footballer should not talk about politics, she replies that freedom of expression is the same for those who work in a company, in a hospital or in a football team. That said, today is not the day she feels like exercising it. It's over. Aitana Bonmatí needs to go and rest.

Note: Aitana has played 140 consecutive games for club and country. The grind hasn’t stopped for a second.

But also,

Please let my girl rest. She’s done so well.

(Excerpts of the interview she’s done with El País Semanal.)