#I’m serious start a routine take your kid to the library at least once a week and give them free reign I mean FREE reign

[party-gilmore]

I’m sorry but if you don’t want your kid to be on a fucking [electronic] all day… maybe don’t give your kid their own [electronic]?

[emilycollins00]

Two faces of the same coin

Pairing: Tenma x ghost-looking! reader. Part 2

Part 1

Here we go! Enjoy! 💕

.

You were used to people reacting a certain way when seeing you since you were young.

Be it your pale skin, eyebags or voice, you ended up not taking it too personally as you grew up. After all it was a general statement you didn't have the best sleeping pattern, and that your hair and posture needed to be worked on. Still, you enjoy peaceful time alone -no glances or scared whispers- although you had to admit this boy had broken a record.

"Dammit...!"

After even frightening you from the intense shriek that came out of his throat, in a poor attempt to run away from you he had stumbled and crashed into a chair so hard you were now wincing as he fell to the harsh floor.

Ouch. Concerned, you approached the groaning teen in pain. “Are you-?” Tenma didn't let you even finish. Violently shaking he turned his back on you, curling into a ball.

“This is not real, this is not real, this is not...!"

He kept mentioning words like curse and death in between, and you could only stare back trying to process what was happening. "Sorry If I scared you. I was-”

“I won't say anything!" he kept on pleading, refusing to open his eyes "I really-REALLY don't taste good please just let me leave!!"

It wasn’t working. You decided to get up from the floor, which only made Tenma pale even more at the sound of something moving.

“I won’t, uh- do anything.” you hesitated. “You, uh, hurt your head right?”

The loud and repetitive pleads died slowly on his lips, and as he opened one eye to glance your way he might have as well. Pale face, somber looks… you both stood in silence in the empty room for a while, you waiting patiently.

"...what?"

He seemed to find again his voice, or at least enough for you to hear. You brushed the dust off you as he flinched at the sudden movement, still on guard.

"I'm, uh- I'm not a ghost." You took out your student card, your name and student photo -equally terrifying some would say. "See?"

An uncomfortable silence filled the air.

Tenma stares at you for a long moment. One could practically see the wheels turning in his head, trying to keep up. And then, just as quickly as he had paled, the color red made way to his face.

“…ah?”

Right. Great answer.

You tilted your head while putting the student card back in your pocket. Maybe he hit his head harder than it looked? “So... what are you doing here? Not that you can't, I guess. I also like it here even though we are not supposed to but- you know. You surprised me a bit too."

Tenma's eyebrows knitted together as he slowly stood up from the floor, not understanding what you were saying. The adrenaline rush was leaving him and could feel himself starting to calm down a little, finally letting his guards down.

“What do you mean. I-Isn’t a library a normal place to work?”

“Yeah. This is the old building though. The new one is on the opposite side..."

You waited patiently watching how Tenma breathed in once again, crimson becoming more and more intense as seconds passed. You had never seen anyone behave like that and he hoped the ground could swallow him about right now. “I... I knew that! I knew that I was just looking around because uh- I’ve never seen this place before!”

“It is rusty.”

More awkward silence from you both. Tenma looked at you and at his pile of books. You looked at them too in reflex, not understanding why a student could have so much book carrying around. "Sumeragi... Tenma?"

"Don't look!" said leader troupe was quick to hide his name, though he was well aware it didn't matter at this point. He tried to avoid your gaze. Shit. Shit, shit, shit last thing he needed today. "Just- don't tell anyone. I'm serious!"

Without sparing another second glance at you and still feeling his face burning, he took everything and left.

His forehead hurt.

One week later

“Why do we have to do this every time?”

“Come on! Don’t tell me you’re afraid to lose?"

“I am not afraid to lose." Tenma frowned at the other two members of mankai. The three were sitting under the shade of a tree in the courtyard, something they took as a routine whenever they didn’t use the cafeteria. Background laughs and conversations could be heard from students around the patio, enjoying their free time before the bell rang and called them back again to their respective classes. He huffed. "This is stupid."

"Got it!" Taichi moved around his arm dramatically "Ready…? Rock, paper, scissors!”

Three hands presented their results with different reactions altogether.

“You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“Aw yeah, paper is the best! It's your turn to go buy drinks Ten-chan!”

“I wanna strawberry juice.”

“Soda for me!”

“Tsk,” Tenma squinted his eyes at his hand and sighed, getting up and dusting away grass from his uniform, taking their coins. “Fine. Strawberry juice and a Green tea.”

“H-hold on, I said soda!”

“I’ll get going.”

“Yeah.”

“Ten-chan I was joking please!!”

It had been a few days after the library incident and so far, he hadn't heard any weird rumor of him- to which he counted it as a big safe considering the situation. Weird, but safe.

“Oh come on.”

After buying Taichi’s and Juza’s drinks, Tenma kept shoving his hand into his pockets, cursing at his emptiness. He was sure he had brought his wallet with him to school… maybe he left it in his room after all? A sigh left his lips, wondering how long would his bad luck last.

Until his exams passed maybe? He hoped not. He had managed to get Tsumugi to teach him at night after a few days of begging his homeroom teacher, revising together all concepts that Tenma couldn't seem to grasp. It had been embarrassing to let him check all his late school results, but at the end of the day it was Tsumugi. And well, Tsumugi was fine. Unlike Itaru, he was always-

“Excuse me.”

Tenma covered his mouth at the close sound of the eerie voice. A shiver definitely running from the last strands of hair until his very own toenails.

Yeah, finding you blinking at him- too close for his taste- took all the strength he had to not scream in public. He stepped back from you. his heart practically on his throat. “W-what are you doing!?”

“Ah, sorry. Thought talking louder would be better. Didn't mean to scare you”

“UH?! I-I wasn’t scared! I-uh, I was just surprised!" Even in plain daylight of the hall in comparison to the sinister darkness of the old library room, Tenma still felt like he was talking to a- Well.

A ghost.

You took a step back away from him too, pointing your forehead “You don't have a bump anymore.”

He touched his own forehead unconsciously. Right, Igawa had made a fuss about it when he saw it. Thanks to Omi’s ointment though it was already almost not existent though. He always worried too much.

“I’m glad.”

"Uh, thanks."

Very much opposite to your physical appearance, your voice while husky and kinda odd, was calm. It made Tenma feel weird, though it was probably because you kept staring at him. Why didn’t you go away?

“Are you... a fan? Do you want like, an autograph or something?”

You pointed behind him. "I was just waiting for my turn.”

His cheeks grew warm self-consciously, moving so you could insert your coins.

“I���m guessing you couldn't find more coins for three drinks,” You suddenly commented looking at the drinks in his hands. Ignoring his confused face, you crouched down and picked the drink, turning to him. "You complained kinda loud so... here. Not sure if you'll like it but I think it's good."

"What? I don't need it."

“It’s fine. Take it as an apology." you shrugged offhandedly. You placed it on top of his other drinks and turned once again to the machine. "It was my fault I scared you anyway.”

Tenma stared at your hunched figure while you got another drink. "Then," you waved your hand slightly and left the place quietly to who knows where.

He didn't even manage to wave back. What had just happened?

“Oh man...”

“Tenma-kun, are you okay?”

Students' whispers made him come back to his senses, losing sight of the path you had walked out. “What?”

“Did that person say anything weird to you? You know, like threaten you or something.” they pointed to where you left

“Uh- no.”

Some sighed relieved while others stared at the machine, as if you might have cursed- somehow.

Tenma frowned. It was true it hadn't been the smoothest conversation, but saying you might have tried to do something to him felt wrong. "Why do you all say that?"

"Ah? Mmm well..."

"Just look at them I guess."

"Yeah I don't know man. Gives me the creeps whenever they walk around. As if our school wasn't already scary inducing."

"Whoah, that's so mean."

"Are you saying you don't think it's true?"

"Tenma-kun, if you have time want to come have lunch with us? We..."

As they kept talking, Tenma looked down, the drink you had bought in his hand; Chocolate milkshake.

"It was my fault I scared you anyway.”

Later on

“Stupid old library...” he found himself growling for the umpteenth time "Should have just leave it be."

Another week had passed before he found the courage and once again, adventured himself around the old halls, carrying one chocolate drink.

I must have gone crazy.

Tenma just didn’t wanna be in debt with anyone. Yeah, that was it. Even if you scared the soul out of him, he had somewhat gotten the sense that you weren’t all bad -although your memories still left him trembling- and if there was something he hated more than anything, it was people making assumptions of others. He learned it from Mankai. Especially from his own troupe.

“Are you lost again?”

However old habits are hard to break.

“Dammit! Do you always need to talk like that?!"

"It's my voice, can't help it." You two had found each other at the corner of the hall. Tenma wasn't sure if this counted as good or bad. "…Do you need help to find the new library? I can draw you a map if you want me to”

“I-I was just about to do it, I don’t need-!”

“Ah- you should be careful not to crash on a chair again. Some are really old“

He placed the two drinks on the table making you blink, not sure how to react.

The awkward silence stretched, and Tenma felt his own cheeks heat up. "D-don't misunderstand, I just don't like to be indebted and I really didn't need that drink last time okay?"

A few seconds pass by. And then. Then he hears your laugh.

“You’re a really nice guy you know.”

His stomach jumps and doesn’t say anything for a while. Embarrassing. He felt his face was going to light on fire. He tried to focus his attention on something else- Not that he enjoyed it. The place itself wasn't comfortable looking.

“...Why do you hide here anyway? It doesn’t help with, well,” he didn't finish the sentence, feeling it sounded wrong -even though it was kinda true.

“I wouldn't say I hide" You hummed mindlessly while opening the drink, giving it a go before turning your attention back to him "I found it a few months ago while looking for a place to study. People overreact when they see me, so I’ve been coming here. I think it’s a pretty chill place myself.”

Tenma stared at you. At your dark eye bags and messy hair. You could definitely get a role in any horror movie you might want for sure. Yet there you were, happily drinking a chocolate milkshake in the old side of your very own high school.

“...You are weird.”

You laughed again. “For someone who’s supposed to be scared but still frequents the same place, I’d say the same about you.”

__________________________________

When I said it was gonna be a long request I meant it.

Have a wonderful day! 💕

Part 3 soon!

[impala1967dwinchester]

Dean Winchester: Don’t leave me.

*Not my gif* 

Paring: Dean X Reader/ Y/n 

Pov: Deans 

Warning: Angst, maybe a fluff ending.  

Summary: What happens when Dean keeps making the same mistakes and reader is trying to help Dean figure out his mistakes “Please, I’ll be better.”  “Please I love you.” “What can I do... I do anything.” “Just don’t leave me!” 

Word Count: 1,932

Masterlist

Tag list: @akshi8278​

I had the same pattern ever since I was in high school. When something goes wrong, go and take it out on someone else. Contemplate, yell, scream, be an ass. But I don’t know what to do now. Now it’s different.  

Now I have the light in my life, and she’s starting to dim. I’m doing that to her, she used to be so bright, so happy. And that is why I fell for her; all I do now is push her away. I’m too harsh, too cruel. And at the moment I don’t know what I’m doing until I have to beg my way back into Y/n’s heart.  

Arguments, that turned into silence. I would look at her when she wasn’t paying attention. I’d try to start a conversation, but I could never get the words out. Something about telling her that I was wrong and she was right., I couldn’t shake it.  

It was hard enough for me to talk to someone, but to be truthful and let them know that I wasn’t right was even worse. I had been harsh with Y/n after a particular hunt. She had been hurt trying to save Sam's and I ass.  

The entire car ride was silent, and not to mention that there was time before this. Where I’d be quiet thinking about what had gone on many times before. She was hurt, it wasn’t bad or anything but I had told her to be my back-up not go in guns blazing and end up getting hurt. Sam sat quiet in the passenger seat, looking through his phone for yet another case.  

Y/n lay in a tight ball, holding herself together. I could barely see her in the rear view mirror, but the slightest of movement and sounds that came from the back seat had my attention. Y/n and I had been dating, but it wasn’t something that had been going on for a while.  

Now when I say this, I mean it, I fell for her the first day I saw her. Love at first sight like Sam likes to say. Sam teases me about how l fell for a girl, and everything seems to be going my way. The whole apple pie life I thought I wasn’t ever going to get.  

It always taken me time to realize things, now if that’s good or bad. I don’t have those answers. I’m not blaming the way that I act on my shitty childhood, or horrible upbringing, but I’m saying that those probably had an effect on me and still have an effect on me now.  

I’m forty-two years old and I still have no clue what I’m doing in life. What I should be doing is riding in my car, with my girl, and be happy. But instead, I'm upset with who I don’t know, I'm barely getting away from yet another hunt.  

You'd think a 6’1-foot-tall man, wouldn’t fall short on talking with his family, and his partner. Being overall open with people. But again, I think it’s something I learned as a child. Stay mute even when you’re asked a question.  

When we finally made it to the bunker it was still very quiet. Y/n had ended up falling asleep. Sam and I looked at her and then back at each other. “Dean, she’s your girlfriend. Get over yourself would you and help her.” He said getting out of the passenger side. I didn’t have any time to respond before he went into bunker, leaving me with Y/n.  

So, I bucked up, leaving the driver seat, and climbing into the back seat to get Y/n. Her hand still tightly wrapped around her waist. “Y/n, honey I’m going to pick you up and take you to your room okay?” I spoke  

So, that’s what I did I grabbed her gently, and she wrapped her arms around my neck. I shut the doors to the car, and I walked into the bunker. Again, it was silent as I walked around the halls of the bunker.  

Y/n’s door was slightly ajar, meaning that I could push my booted foot between the open space. I walked around her room, and found her bed. Placing her down gently, I pulled her boots off, and her heavy jacket that was hardly blood stained from the hunt.  

Because she was asleep, I had no energy to want to even start a fight. I left Y/n’s room quietly closing her bedroom door. And made my own way to my own room, when I finally sat down on my bed I started to think.  

Thinking about how if Y/n was awake when we had arrived home it would have been a different story. How I would have yelled, screamed, have a fuss, and then drank the rest of the night away. I thought how Sam would look at me and instead see our father. I thought how Y/n would be quiet and walk away.  

I’d decide now to rethink my relationship not saying that I’d ever break up with my sweet Y/n, but I needed to get better. I needed to be better for her, be better for Sam, and be better for myself. So, I made the choice as I walked to my bedroom. Tonight, I would first off get a good night's rest, wake up and start the day off good.  

So that’s what I did, I fell asleep knowing that tomorrow morning would be a better day. When I woke up the next morning everything was okay. Walking around the bunker to find Sam in the library, and Y/n in the kitchen. So, I started with Sam he was an easier target.  

“Sam, do you mind if we have a quick chat?” I asked. Sam titled his head, rising his eyebrows in a confusion, and then huffed a little before answering with a hesitation in his voice. “Sure, what do you want to chat about?” “I’d like to start off by saying I’m sorry for the way it was when we were kids. I’d also like to apologize for all the shit I put you through after we found dad. I’m sorry that I act like a douche bag, I’m sorry that I yell at you like dad used too. I’m sorry for actions and I know I don't say this enough but I love you.” I said before sitting down across from Sam.  

He looked at me for a couple of seconds before getting up from his seat before and rounding the table. My brother had a growth support and somehow had gotten taller than me, I thought as I looked up at my younger brother, he looked as if he was hesitant, toying with whatever idea that had made him around the table.  

Before Sam could get another word out, I quickly sat up and hugged him. Now this type of embrace was the one like when the world was ending and we were sacrificing ourselves. This type of hug was the type that meant “I love you too”. An action that meant more than the word they backed-up.  

This embrace wasn’t long, it was known between the two of us that we’d hug and then let go of each other. That’s what happened, but knowing that there wasn’t anything after us, or we weren’t dying was a nice thought to hold onto.  

“De, I love you too. Now you should probably go do the same with Y/n.” Sam said before patting my shoulder and rounding the table again to sit in his seat. Like nothing had happened, but then again that’s just how our relationship went, that’s how we grew up. Emotions and then act as if nothing happened, because emotions show weakness.  

As I walked out of the library, I needed a few seconds to think so I took advantage of the two different ways to get to the kitchen, opting for the longer choice. As I walked, I thought how difficult our childhood had been, how now I could finally say that I was dealing with it all. I could smell the coffee, and hear Y/n putting out dishes and looking through cabinets trying to find breakfast for this morning.  

As I walked in, Y/n didn’t even know I was in the room. The split second that she didn’t know was perfect. It was odd all that time I had spent with Lisa I’d never had a moment of clarity like this. In that moment it was like I was weightless. Nothing could hurt her or me, everything seemed normal. “Jesus Dean you can’t just come up behind people and not say anything. I could drop something!” Y/n said as held her hand over her heart.  

I chuckled unfolding my arms and leaning off the side of the doorway. As I walked into the kitchen, she handed me a coffee cup. I hadn’t realized how much Y/n and I’s routine was synced. In the morning she’d be in the kitchen hand me my coffee cup, wait until I had a least a few sips before wanting to have a serious conversation. Then once I sat my cup down on the counter conversation was flowing, I grab plates as she cooked breakfast. My height giving me an advantage to be able to reach over Y/n’s head and grab a few other needed things.

Y/n would than take advantage of the fact that sometimes in the comfort of the bunker I wasn't paying attention. She’d poke my sides with the end of the spatula, Y/n would then look up at me and giggle before going back to cooking.  

This was every morning thing between the two of us. When we did finally sit down, I could tell that Y/n was still upset with me. So, in a moment of rash decision I cleared mt throat catching her attention.  

“I know that I’m an asshole most of the times. I also know that nobody wants to deal with that, so I’m doing this I’ve already thought of a thousand ways of saying this. A thousand ways of how this could play out. Most of them ending with you walking out of the door. I know that I’m not perfect, But I can do better, please known that I’ll be and get better.” I spoke. I was quiet for a moment not wanting to bombarded Y/n was too much at once. She nodded her head and motioned me to continue.  

“I want you to know that I'll do anything... Anything you want me to do. I want you to know that this was hard for me to do, I hate the way I act, I hate not having control, but there’s something that I don’t hate and that’s loving you.” I spoke before looking down at my coffee cup. My knuckles going white from how hard I was trying to control my emotions.  

“I love you too babe.” Y/n finally said before getting up from her seat and sitting next to me. As she sat down, I rested my head on her shoulder and mumbled “Just don’t leave me.” As I spoke, she wisped her hands through my hair. “Just don’t leave me like everyone else has, I love you Y/n.”  

She lifted my head up from her shoulder her hands grasping my cheeks and made me look at her. “I’m not going anywhere. People have fights, they have arguments, but they make-up. They fix the issues. And I like making up with you Dean.” She said a smirk on her face and winked at me.  

Completed on 02/12/2021

[mdawritings]

Wanna Be Yours: Ch. 8

I.VIII

Masterlist

Warnings: This is your reminder that this fic is VERY toxic. This is in no way meant to romanticize the relationship… it is wrong. Hotch should not treat Y/N this way.

Song(s): "W.D.Y.W.F.M?" by The Neighborhood

After leaving Hotch’s apartment this past weekend you thought it would be the last time you break your routine with him. The weekly meetings were working for the two of you. No more surprise late-night visits, no more off-schedule meetings in his office. You would see him every Wednesday like you two agreed and nothing more. It was growing to be too tiring, the constant back and forth with him. One minute he’s displaying his jealousy, the next he’s walking you home to your apartment, talking to you quietly and telling you his favorite color, and then the next he’s kicking you out on your ass barely giving you a second look.

It doesn’t even hit you how tiring the whole routine is until Wednesday rolls around. You had an exam in the morning, for which you felt entirely unprepared because all you did was spend the first two days of the weekend trying to keep your schedule revolving around Hotch’s whims.

You feel a serious migraine coming on as you struggle to maintain your focus on Hotch, who paces back and forth at the front of the lecture hall. Your eyes drift closed, the bright fluorescent lighting managing to aggravate the growing head pain.

"Miss Y/L/N," His deep baritone seems to radiate off every surface in the classroom, intensifying the dull ache in your head. "If you require nap time, please remember this isn’t a daycare or your bedroom. Wake up."

"Sorry, sir," You mutter under your breath, struggling to hold your head up and focus. The words on the whiteboard are blurred, fuzzy through your hazy migraine brain. His eyes linger on you, reading your body language. He knows that something is off. You don’t get all flustered like he expects you to. You barely give him any reaction at all. You swear you see a flash of worry across his face, a small pause in the lecture but if he does it’s barely noticeable and cannot be attributed to your lack of energy at the current moment.

The rest of the class is just as much of a blur as the first half and as you’re packing up your belongings, the deep baritone voice calls out, "Miss Y/L/N, stay back for a second."

Katie shoots you a look, muttering, "Damn, does he ever let you catch a break?"

You shake your head, not having enough energy to muster up a substantial response. You ignore his calls and continue packing up before turning to follow Katie to the door.

"Y/N, he called you," She glances over her shoulder to see you close behind.

"So?" You bring your hand up to rub your temple roughly.

Katie sighs, "Look, I’ll wait for you outside. Just don’t anger him more than you already do. I would like for you to live until your 21st birthday." She teases, managing to put a smile on your face despite your sour attitude.

You squeeze your eyes shut, hoping your mind will clear once they’re open again, but as you turn and open your eyes, Hotch’s piercing gaze sends your thoughts into a scramble. You stand by the door uncomfortably, watching as the last few students file out.

You avoid his eye contact and keep your feet planted firmly in place, knowing that he’s too addicting, too irresistible for you to consider getting any closer to him.

"Y/N, is something wrong?" He glances over you and takes a few steps closer.

As soon as he moves closer, you take a few steps back, "I’m tired today and I need to get to a study session." You’re practically backpedaling all the way out of the classroom.

"Wait, Y/N," He calls and moves a little quicker to get closer to you, "Is there something going on with you that I should know about?"

You push down the small scoff and resist the urge to tell him off. From the way he’s treated you the past few days, he doesn't deserve any information about you. If he wants to show a complete lack of respect for you, there's nothing about your life he ‘should know about.’

"No. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have exams to study for. Goodbye Professor Hotchner." You rush out the words and turn on your heel.

"Wait," He calls after you, "Einstein!" His efforts to stop you are to no avail. You push open the door, hooking your arm in Katie’s, practically dragging her away from his classroom.

"Whoa, slow down, kid," She laughs. You ignore her, continuing to drag her further away from the lecture hall and out of the building onto the quad. "Damn, is he really that bad?" She holds you back, forcing you to slow down.

"I’m so fucking sick and tired of him," You let out a frustrated groan.

"Really?" Katie raises a brow but continues to walk with you towards the small café where you always get lunch. "Huh." She lets out and you turn your attention to her.

"What? Don’t believe me?" You let go of her arm.

She shrugs, "He just seems like the type of guy who’s an asshole in public but actually a smooth talker and charming when you’re alone with him."

It actually pisses you off how right Katie is about him. Except for the fact that he can be an asshole in private too. Especially when he kicks you out of his house at 2 in the morning.

"No matter how charming he is in private, he’s still an asshole the other 50% of the time," You snap, "Come on. I have an exam to study for."

The two of you pick up coffee and some lunch before burying yourselves deep in the stacks in the library. Normally, on a Wednesday, you would be rushing to grab a quick bite for lunch, get some work done as fast as possible so that you could rush back to Hotch’s office for your weekly afternoon meeting. You weren’t planning on blowing him off, at least, not when the day started. But after actually seeing him, you feel no desire to spend an hour with him, letting him enjoy and explore every inch of your body. He doesn’t deserve a minute of your time. But even then, it’s not that simple to blow him off, because despite telling yourself you deserve better, you still find yourself glancing at the clock every few minutes as the time inches closer and closer to 2:00.

Are you pissed at him right now? Yes, but that doesn’t change the way that your heart swells when you think of the time you’ve spent together. For every moment that he’s pissed you off, you can think of another where he’s made you smile and laugh. And for every moment he’s hurt your feelings or bruised your ego, you can think of one where he’s praised your hard work and boosted your confidence. For every moment he’s made you feel unimportant, you can think of one where he’s made you moan, made your toes curl, and made you feel like the most irresistible woman on planet earth.

You bounce your knee repeatedly, and Katie reaches a hand under the table to place over your bouncing leg, trying to calm you down, "You alright, Einstein?" She doesn’t look up from the textbook she’s reading but gives your knee a soft squeeze before letting go.

"Yeah," You glance at the clock again, watching the second-hand pass 12 and the minute hand shift to hover over two, lining up with the hour hand. 2:10 pm. Wednesday 2:10 pm. As if on schedule, you hear your phone buzzing in your bag. You place a hand over your bag, hoping to dull the noise of the vibrations.

But it doesn’t help. You dig around in your bag for the phone and ignore the call before shoving it back in and attempting to turn your focus back down to your notes. Another call. More vibrating.

Once again, Katie speaks without looking up, "You going to get that?"

"No, it’s not important." You fight the urge to check the phone. You already know who it is without looking at it.

"How do you know it’s not important if you don't look at it?" She puts the highlighter down and looks at you. You see her eyes narrow slightly as she makes it extremely obvious she’s trying to read your expression right now.

"I’m sure it’s nothing important," You force your eyes back down onto your notes. Focus, damn it. Just focus on your work.

Your attempts are in vain. Your phone buzzes about 3 more times over the next 20 minutes, which just further concerns Katie, who is now thoroughly convinced you have lost your mind. And maybe you have. You feel off. Your heart aches in your chest. Your mind is in a fog and you can’t think clearly. Every time you start to dive back into studying, your mind wanders back to your professor.

You wonder what he’s doing right now. Is he pacing in his office, waiting for you to walk in the door? Or is he calmly sitting at his desk as if it doesn’t faze him? Does it faze him? Does he even care if you didn’t show up? He’s called you five times already. But maybe it’s not about you. He’s not the type of man that takes no for an answer and he doesn’t like being told what to do. Maybe it’s all about the dynamic. He likes the idea of you as a younger girl fawning over him, worshipping him, hanging onto every last word that comes out of his mouth.

In reality, maybe he doesn’t even care about you at all. He just knows you’re attractive and that’s enough for him.

You want that to be the answer. That would be much easier to swallow. That would be easier to deal with. Knowing that he just wants you for your body is easy to cope with. But there’s something about the little things he does. The way he trusts you with his personal notes. He lets you read his annotations in the novels he lends you. He doesn’t just give you work to do, but he listens to what you have to say, really listens. He makes photocopies of your notes. He lets you annotate in the margins of his books.

You swear that when you crack a joke or make fun of him, you can see a smile spread across his face. Just last week, you teased him about his horrible handwriting, and you could’ve sworn his handwriting was a little neater in the comments of your recent essay.

You feel comfortable around him. He loosens up around you. He’s harsh and unrelenting when it comes to criticism, but he knows you can handle it. He understands you want the truth. You want honesty. You want guidance. He understands that. He seems to understand you better than you know yourself.

So how come you seem to be so in the dark about him? You can never understand his motivations for anything. One minute, he’s scolding you in class, the next he’s praising you in private. He’s inviting you over to his place, but soon after tossing you out. He walks you home, indulges your silly questions, but then makes you feel like an unimportant one-night stand as if he’s only sleeping with you because you’re available to him.

It was the conditional nature of it all: ‘There’s no one else I would sleep with right now anyway’

The words sting. He’s only exclusively sleeping with you because you’re all he has. His only option.

You pull yourself out of your head. Finally turning your attention back onto the notes in front of you. No more wasted energy on Hotch. You have work to get done, and you’re sick and tired of letting him have so much control over you.

You manage to avoid Hotch for the rest of the week. You don’t have his class on Thursday and you know his class schedule well enough to be able to dodge seeing him in the halls or accidentally running into him while meeting with other professors. Even after Wednesday’s migraine fades away, you’re constantly running on low battery. Your brain is mush and your thoughts are unorganized and disjointed.

None of your schoolwork manages to hold your attention. You can’t think clearly anymore and it pisses you off. Even without spending time with Hotch, he’s ruining you. Absolutely, completely, ruining you.

Your depressed mood doesn’t go unnoticed, either. Katie grows so concerned for you that she proposes you both skip your classes on Friday, sleep in, and then have a really fun night, drinking with all your friends. The craziest part of it all? You agree. So you skip class on Friday. Your agreement shocks Katie. She’s happy about it, stating that you need a break and it’s okay to miss class every once in a while, saying "None of the professors even take attendance. They won’t notice that you skipped. And if they do, they know you’re a good student and would only miss class for a valid reason."

But you know that your absence will not go completely unnoticed. You know that your absence in one class, in particular, will not bode well for you. Hotch will inevitably lay into you even harder on Monday in class. He will torture you, embarrass you in front of the whole class for skipping.

Again, you’re sick and tired of letting him have control over you.

"And another one bites the dust!" You tease playfully as you pour the last of the vodka into your cup, "Let me go see if we have a bottle of wine." You stand up from your seat on the floor, giving Katie’s shoulder a small squeeze as you pass by. You step into the kitchen, open the liquor cabinet, and pull out a bottle for you and your friends. Just as you pull out the cork and place the bottle down on the coffee table, there’s a knock at the door. "I’ll get it." You nod.

"I hope it’s not our upstairs neighbors complaining again. We’re not even that loud!" Katie yells and you laugh, knowing that she has no sense of volume and spends mostly every weekend screaming at reality television when the two of you drink a little too much. If you lived above your apartment, you’d be bothered too. You roll your eyes at Katie’s comment and reach forward to open the door.

"Hey sorry about the—" You’re about to start apologizing for the noise when you see him standing there at the door. You let out a small breath, "Charlie." You say softly and he returns a sheepish grin.

He holds up two bottles in his hands and shrugs, "I brought sustenance."

"I didn’t think you would come," You admit honestly, but step aside to let him into your apartment. You hadn’t talked to Charlie in nearly a week. The last time you even spoke to him was right after you made out with him and then ran out on him.

"Well, Katie invited me and I thought it would be the perfect time to apologize for being such an ass last week." He shakes his head. He opens his mouth, probably to continue to apologize but you don’t let him speak.

"No, Charlie, I’m partially to blame," You argue and take the bottles from his hands, "I shouldn’t have kissed you back."

"I didn’t know you were seeing someone, I never would’ve kissed you," You’re just about to step into the living room to rejoin the rest of your friends, but you grab his arm and hold him back a little.

"Wait, what?" He looks down at you with a grin, but your face is twisted into one of horror. Does he know about you and Hotch? Did he see something he wasn’t supposed to?? Hear something?

"Oh come on, Einstein. You’re way more distracted than usual, you’ve got a little extra pep in your step, and you always have a little," He reaches forward hooking a finger into the collar of your shirt, pulling it down slightly to reveal a small fading bruise just at the top of your breasts, "Mark on your neck." He teases.

You smack his hand away, feeling your face grow hot, "I’m not seeing anyone."

"Oh, really?" Charlie smirks, "So why’d you run away from that kiss as if you had just committed an act of adultery?"

You roll your eyes, but laugh a little at his teasing. It’s nice to have one of your best friends back, "I’m not in a relationship." You clarify.

"So you are seeing someone… friends with benefits?" He grins and throws an arm around you.

"Are you asking about the guy or making a proposition for us?" You jokingly flirt back with him, attempting to establish the normal witty banter the two of you usually have together.

"Whichever you’d prefer," He grins and pulls you back to the group, "Now that I’m here, we can get the actual party started." He pulls you down to sit on the floor next to him before reaching to steal your cup and finish it off.

"I’m pretty sure that was mine," You laugh and lean back against him.

"Oh… really? My bad," He shrugs with a sneaky little smirk, before reaching for another cup to pour you both new drinks.

"You just can’t help putting your hands all over things that aren’t yours, huh?" At that, Charlie erupts into loud laughter and your heart surges with happiness. Finally, you’re able to push Hotch from your mind. You forget about him altogether as you spend the night laughing and drinking with friends.

——

You close the door behind your friends, the last of them finally leaving, and lean against the door with a small sigh. "Jesus, I am exhausted. This week has felt like hell on earth," You complain and move towards your living room, dreading cleaning up the myriad of bottles, cups, and food wrappers left behind from the night’s festivities.

"I’m going to shower and immediately pass the fuck out," Katie fights through a yawn, "Don’t worry about the mess. We can clean it up together tomorrow." She waves her hand before turning to walk through the apartment to the bathroom.

"You know I can’t go to bed and leave a mess!" You yell over the sound of the shower water running. You place the last few bottles into the recycling and hear your phone vibrating obnoxiously in the other room. You rush to grab it, only to see the familiar number that you’ve ignored nearly 20 times in the past 3 days.

You slam the phone down frustratedly. You want to see Hotch. More than anything, you want him to wrap his arms around you, pull you close, and kiss you until you’re weak in the knees. Aside from the sex, you have missed his company. He’s intelligent and he sees the complexities of your mind. He makes you smile. You like to think you’re one of the few people who manage to make him smile. He spends so much of the day with his face screwed into that emotionless frown. You like being able to be the person to relieve that tension, whether it’s while you’re on your knees in front of him or simply with a witty, sarcastic remark. But you deserve respect. And you’re tired of settling for anything less from him.

You walk to turn out some of the lights in your living room when you hear your phone buzz on the couch again. You want to ignore it but something inside of you urges you to check the message. You pick up the phone and check the most recent message.

Come outside.

"What the fuck?" You speak softly, worried that Katie will somehow hear you over the roaring shower water. You walk to the window in your living room and pull back the blinds. You glance down at the front of your building. There he is. Aaron Hotchner is standing in front of your building, leaning against his car, staring right back up at you. You glance down at the phone and dial his number.

He picks up quickly, continuing to keep his eyes focused on you through the window, "What the fuck are you doing here?"

"Can you just come down? We need to talk." He tilts his head looking up at you and gestures for you to come down.

"Isn’t it obvious I don’t feel like talking to you right now?" You want to shut the blinds and hang up but you get the feeling Hotch isn’t going to take no for an answer.

"Just come down. I’m not having this conversation over the phone." He runs a hand through his hair, messing with it slightly. You can see he’s in casual sweats and a t-shirt.

"Oh, I wasn’t aware there was going to be a conversation." There’s a pause as you both stare back at each other. Your chest rises and falls rapidly as the tension and anger build up inside you. He’s managed to ruin a perfect night with your friends. How does he manage to invade every moment of your life? "This is creepy, Hotch. You can’t just show up to my apartment like this."

"I’m not talking over the phone. If you want to yell at me or scold me or something you’re going to have to come down here to do it." He shakes his head disapprovingly and stands up from the way he was leaning on the car, taking a firmer stance with you.

"Hotch—" Before you can get another word out, he hangs up on you. You glare down at him, and he simply shrugs, crossing his arms across his chest. By the time you make it down the stairs and out the front door of your apartment complex, you’re absolutely seething with rage.

"You cannot be here. You cannot just show up here whenever you want and expect me to be okay with that." You storm out to meet him, wrapping your arms around your body defensively. You keep your distance, worried about what you’ll do if you or he get too close to one another. It has been nearly a week since you’ve had your hands on him and you’re convinced the irrational, hormone-driven part of you will dominate once you get one whiff of his cologne.

"Why’d you blow me off? Why haven’t you been answering my calls? You didn’t even show up to class today. I was worried," He seems genuinely concerned, his eyes running over your body, almost as if he’s checking you for injury.

You’re not even sure how to respond, only managing to get out, "Worried?"

"It’s not like you to skip class. I figured out pretty quickly you were mad at me, for some reason that I haven’t been able to decipher, but I didn’t expect you to resort to skipping class." He takes a few steps towards you, and you curse yourself for not maintaining the distance between the two of you. From here, you can see a little more dep[th in those beautiful brown eyes of his, and you can see the way his arms tense and strain a little against his jacket.

"For some reason?" You scoff, "Are you really that blind to the impact of your own actions?

Hotch glances away for a second, frustrated with you, letting out a long breath, "Look, Y/N, I don’t know what you expect from me." He talks with his hands, expressing the sentiment that he’s exasperated with you as if you’re being ridiculous.

"I expect you to treat me with a little bit of respect, Aaron," You have to be firm with him. You’re not going to let him manipulate you or walk all over you.

"I respect you." He states simply.

"You threw me out at two in the morning." You point out and you see his firm demeanor falter a little.

"I offered to call you a car." You chuckle bitterly and shake your head at his responses. You know he’s not stupid. He’s actually one of the smartest people you’ve ever met. He can usually read you so well, what is so confusing about this that he can’t get it through his dense head?

"You told me there was no one else you’d want to sleep with. The only reason I’m the only woman you’re sleeping with is that there’s no one else you want to sleep with." You’re struggling to keep your voice steady and calm, but you feel your voice tremble a little as the pain in your chest increases, recalling the events of the past weekend. You’re fighting to keep from letting him see how much his words have hurt you. You don’t want him to think you’re too emotionally invested, but you also don’t want him to get away with hurting you.

Hotch swallows. He clenches his jaw. He realizes. He knows what he said and he knows what it meant. "I told you I haven’t slept with anyone but you."

You roll your eyes. He’s clearly not getting it. "But would you? If given the chance, would you sleep with someone else?"

Hotch hesitates. That hesitation is enough confirmation for you. "Go home, Aaron," You let out frustratedly and turn to walk inside. He catches your wrist and pulls you back around for a kiss. You melt against him a little, forgetting just how much he makes you go weak in the knees. You haven’t felt his touch in nearly a week and it shows in the way you’re completely surrendering yourself to him in seconds. But you pull away for a second to catch your breath, realizing you can’t just get sucked back into him again.

You sigh, "You can’t just kiss me to get me to stop talking."

He kisses you again, a little softer this time, running his hands up to cup your face, thumbs running over your cheeks lightly. You start to pull away again. "I don’t want to sleep with anyone else." He breathes against your lips. "I just want you. No one else. You’re all I need."

And just like that, you’re falling into him all over again. The promise of some form of exclusivity, some amount of commitment to you, manages to soften your anger. It dulls your frustration. In all honesty, it hurt you to be away from him for a week. You feel lost without his company and now, in this moment, the haze that you had been living in for the past week has seemed to lift. The fog in your brain clears, you feel a little less disorganized. You can think clearly again.

"I only want you too," You let out before pulling him close for a heated kiss. His hands roam your body hungrily and you press into him, your pillowy breasts pushing against his firm chest. His scent invading your senses, his hands gripping your face.

"I have—" You speak between heated kisses, "I have to go back inside. Katie," You pause to let out a soft moan as Hotch’s lips leave yours and travel under your jaw, "Katie is inside." You manage to tear yourself away from him, "You have to go, someone might see you here." You nod, "I’ll see you Monday."

He nods in response and you turn to walk up the steps to your door, and just like that night he walked you home, he calls out to you before you get to the door, "Einstein!" He comes running up to you, placing one last kiss on your lips, "I’m sorry." He says it so softly you barely catch it. There’s a moment. A pause. After he says it, he stands there. His hands on your cheeks, holding your face in place so that he can look down into your eyes. And when you look up at him, you get the sense he genuinely means it. He doesn’t want to hurt you. You stand there, both looking at each other for a moment. But the moment is fleeting. He soon turns and walks back to his car before you can fully process the apology. You turn into the building, taking your time to walk up the steps, wanting to savor the euphoric feeling that comes with Hotch's presence.

You step back into your apartment closing the door behind you, pausing to take a slow breath in. Your heart is still racing after that kiss. Just like that, Hotch has managed to suck you back in. His soft words, his rough hands on your body, his mouth warm moving against yours. The warning signs are there. You know you need to stay away, but he’s just so fucking mesmerizing. There’s something so exhilarating about risking it all, about sneaking around with him. Something about the stolen glances in class and the heated midnight kisses. You take another second to catch your breath before turning around.

"Why was Professor Hotchner outside our apartment?" Katie has her arms crossed against her chest, her hair dripping onto her shirt from the shower, "And why the fuck were you kissing him?"

Chapter 9: I.IX →

[residentlesbrarian]

The Fourth Book I Read In the Dark: Of Expectations and Other Relatabilities

Of Gryphons and Other Monsters by Shannon McGee

Hey, guys, sooooo...this is aaaawwwkward. I wrote 95% of this review when I wrote the other Books I Read in the Dark series for the blog, but the ADHD hit me and COVID was still you know...a thing! So I am gonna post this review, finished of course, OH, but also pay extra close attention to the conclusion alright! Hmm...this is a bit like a time capsule...here are my concentrated thoughts from 6 months ago while I was slightly delirious on books and darkness. So go forth and uh yeah this one is...you can just feel the feral “I haven’t had access to proper internet so I’ve been curled in the corner like Gollum with my books” energy coming off it so...enjoy?

Okay, so yeah, I really didn’t have a reason to end my last review that way I just wanted to, so sue me for injecting a little excitement into a series of posts about me literally sitting in my house reading nonstop for 2 ½ days, my reviews my rules. Back to manufacturing my own excitement shall we!

It’s Day 2! I’ve just finished my last library book, whatever will I do! I could always reread The Neverending Story for the 1,273rd time, but I have a need. A need for GAY! I rack my brain, there has to be a solution. My town is without power, my local library won’t be open, but then it hits me. It’s so simple! It’s meant to be really! Like the universe knew this was coming and it made sure I was prepared! Like a prepper stockpiling mental SPAM for my stimulus needing ADHD riddled brain! I have an entire shelf of books that I haven’t read yet! Way back in Clexacon 2019 my best friend (Lookin at you @justalifelongphase) gave me way too much money from missed birthdays and Christmases all at once before the con started because the world has deemed it impossible for us to live geographically close to one another. Anyway, I went a little book-buying-crazy and have not had the time or opportunity to read any of them since then. Their time has finally come!

I figured after going full whimsy with The Lost Coast and sci-fi superhero with Dreadnought and Sovereign why not take a dip into more traditional fantasy, also this one was first in line on the shelf, yay for not having to actually make a decision! No more dawdling, let's get right into the review!

Unicorn Rating:

Blurb: Taryn always loves and hates gryphon season. She finds the lesser gryphons more cute than anything but the ever present fear that a greater gryphon might be just out of sight is terrifying, and this gryphon season proves to be the one that will change her and her families lives forever! Just let a girl herd her sheep in peace!

Disclaimer: I will try my best to not spoil anything from the book, but my book loving rambles may give more away than a traditional review. Here we go! Ramble time!

Review:

I genuinely enjoyed this book. It took me a bit longer to get through it than the others, but I think that was a combination of three things: A. I was starting to feel the fatigue of reading so much in such a short amount of time. B. Our local Wal Mart had power restored on Day 3 and our entire household went on a trip to buy non-perishable food stuffs and I was like a solitary confinement prisoner being let out into the yard for the first time in months when my phone picked up a wifi signal and it was a bit hard to get back into the swing of reading after talking to other humans, even virtually, that weren’t imaginary or in my head. C. Our power was finally restored on the afternoon of Day 3 so yet again I was inundated with the draw of technology and all of my friend-os I hadn’t talked to, but the book had drawn me in enough I did the most unmillienial thing and left my phone in a different room to charge while I finished this book before going back to the land of technology and interwebs. That should tell you something.

McGee was able to write this story in a way that pulls you in so you care about what happens to these characters and this little mountain town. You learn just enough about the world to understand where they fit within the overall weave of it, but you aren’t given a Tolkein-esc dissertation on the world lore. I felt the worries and the fears. I was concerned when the routines had to change. I mean she made me care about the freaking sheep! Sheep, people! One of the reasons I think this works so well is we are so firmly rooted in the head of our protagonist, Taryn. Imma use that lovely bridge I just built to skip right on over the plot section of the review to get to the characters first, don’t worry we’ll circle back round to the plot. I always do, but I just wanna talk about my newest set of brain babies.

Taryn is a character that, if the title of this post is anything to go by, I found very very relatable. Now I know relatability can be pretty subjective, some people can latch onto something with the all consuming, “It me!” While others just stare on dead eyed not understanding the appeal. I feel like Taryn could be that kind of protagonist. You are either going to really relate to her or you won’t understand where she is coming from at all. I obviously fall in the former category. I was the quintessential middle child, still am really, though my relationship with my parents has shifted now that I’m an adult. More mutual respect and friendship than parent to child. I always did my best to pick up the slack, if ever there was any, and just tried my best to be as little of a burden as possible to my parents. I see so much of that aspect of myself in Taryn and how she sees her place at the farm and even in the town, she has her place and her role, but those expectations are heavy. One of those expectations being that she will inevitably get married and help take over the farm from her parents and have kids to continue the line. The fact she finds the lesser gryphons that flock near the farm far cuter than any of the local boys that she will eventually have to choose from to fulfill that inevitable expectation is just...sad at best and down right tragic at worst. And her family doesn’t help matters either. They won’t let her forget that she will have to settle down with one of these local boys, a boy who would make a good husband and take good care of her and the farm. She knows that, logically, but she also wants to be in love, like her parents, and she just doesn’t feel like that for any of the boys in town. She doesn’t know how to make those two things line up. It’s a struggle between her head, the obligation of what she has to do, and her heart, what she really wants for her future, to be happy in doing what she has to do. Wow, I went off a little bit there, but this was my long winded way of saying I have never read a protagonist that really captured the utter confusion of being raised in a heteronormative environment without it being drenched in internalized homophobia and fear. Protagonists like this seem to always know something is off but just don’t have the words for it so they just hide it because they know it’s “different” and out of the norm, but Taryn is just livin’ her sheep herding life and ain’t got no time for these boy crazy fools. She knows her mom wants her to find a good boy to court her so she can marry someday but she’s still young. She’ll think about that tomorrow, and she just repeats that ad infinitum. The thought that maybe she doesn’t fancy any of the boys because well...girls...never even occurred to her. It's not how things are done in this small mountain town, not because of homophobia reasons, but just stubborn tradition reasons. We are even told there is a gay couple living in town who are staples in the overall dynamics in town, instrumental even, but the idea of having a lineage, being able to pass your land down is so ingrained no wonder poor Taryn was so in the dark about her own probable gayness till it slapped her in the face. As someone who was raised in a medium sized Oklahoma town...girl I feel you. I was 22 and in the middle of Appalacia, way up in the mountains for college when my gay awakening popped up and said “Hello!” Everything that never quite made sense in my life came into perfect clarity. Not quite what happened with Taryn, but the arrival of Aella surely helped, as pretty girls are want to do. Oh look a segue, good, cause I could talk about Taryn for literal hours and I’ve already gabbed about her too much for this review.

Aella, you smooth motherfucker. Like I wish I could possess a quarter of the smoothness that you do. Like I’m lucky to string sentences together around a pretty girl, but here you are just strutting about being the smoothest of smooth. Honestly, I just...I can’t with you Aella. On a serious note though Aella is a character that served as showing Taryn a glimpse at the world beyond her small mountain town, as much as she had no desire to leave, unlike her brother. Nope, sit down, we’ll get to you, Michael! Oh, we’ll get to you. She’s traveled and has stories from all over and she is fairly open about the fact that she only likes girls, but she doesn’t have land, responsibilities, and a family line to continue. She just gets to live her life the way she choses. And y’all know I am a sap for the hard dark characters that are totally softies underneath that rough exterior. I think Aella was a great foil to Taryn and great at showing her what she could have if she was willing to leave, to stretch what she was allowed to wish for, but of course the biggest issue with her wishing for anything was...Michael.

Michael was such an interesting character. I loved him. I hated him. I wanted to hug him. I wanted to punch him. Again as with the town and the people of the town I was so deep seated in Taryn’s head and feelings that her conflicted feelings about Michael and how he was acting became my feelings on the matter. Not enough to not separate a tad and see what was coming or at least try to predict it as I always do when reading, but emotionally I was right with Taryn the whole way. The one thing that really pushed Michael from just a character I was conflicted about to one I really wanna give a swift kick in the nads to, is that he knew. He knew all about Taryn’s absolute lack of romantic inclinations toward any of the boys in town and her doubts that she would ever find someone to love and marry to take over the farm. He was the only person she confided these fears in and he still selfishly followed his own pursuits with little regard to her or her worries. You sir, are a terrible brother and overall a shit human, so sit your ass down and shut your mouth.

The plot for this book was so embroiled with the characters and their journeys that I can’t talk on it much but the twists at the end and the final climax was very satisfying for me and left me excited to dig into the next book. Also something of note that I didn’t talk about in the character section cause I felt it was dragging on a touch, I really only talked in depth on our three biggest players but there is a very colorful cast of side characters ranging from Taryn’s nervous pony to the boy-who-cried-gryphon neighbor no one can stand to the troupe of hunters led by Aella’s mother to Taryn’s best friend Nia, all of whom play important parts in building that sense of caring about the people of this town and the town itself, which in turn made me deeply care about the outcome of the plot at the heart of the story. And the sheep! The god damn sheep!

One thing I do want to say before my final thoughts is that whoever designed the cover of this book in a genius because as I dug into the story I found myself constantly closing it to spout off about theories of what I thought was happening on the cover and what it all meant, I was kind of reader fatigue delirious for most of those theories but some of them I was right! I might have reenacted the Captain Holt “Vindication” gif IRL just because it felt too good not to. I just love when a “cool” cover turns out to be so much more than that once you’re “in the know”. So yeah, now y’all know to pay attention for that.

My final thoughts on this book are pretty positive. I can tell the author is building us toward so much more, hence the name of the series, Taryn’s Journey, and it feels like it. This is only the beginning and I honestly can’t wait to take the next steps with her.

Queer Wrap-up:

Hey it’s me from the future...present...whatever...so, this is when I stopped writing the review six months ago and there is a reason for that. I, kind of, agonized over what to rate this book on the scale. Multiple times having to call my brother and go back and forth just to then repeat the same arguments with myself as soon as I got off the phone. Now why was this such a hard terrible no good awful back and forth well...SPOILER WARNING...seriously anything past this point will be spoiling some character beats for the majority of the book...okay? We understand one another. DANGER ALL YE WHO ENTER HERE...or you know scroll on.

So, Taryn is never confirmed to be queer in the text of this book. Now you would have to be wearing the tightest hetero goggles in known history not to see the heavy HEAVY subtext saying THIS BITCH GAY! It’s basically a full grown elephant painted sparkly rainbow trying to hide behind a dead shrub aka not hiding at all. I so desperately wanted to give this book four of those darling unicorns but in this rare case I just don’t think I can justify it. We have a protagonist that is still figuring herself out, which is amazing that we get to see that and go on the journey with her. Some of the things Taryn does and thinks are queer coded as hell, especially if it involves Aella who is explicitly gay on the page, but Taryn herself never express whether she herself is queer. Which, fair, other really important and traumatizing things were going on and I love that about her as a character, she didn’t meet Aella and suddenly that was all she could think about. Aella, of course, is representation who I’m counting because even though she shows obvious interest (you smooth motherfucker) in Taryn she is so much more than just a love interest and her character isn’t just boiled down to her sexuality. Now in this wrap up I’m also including the doctor and his husband in the town. They are very minor characters but they give us interesting insights into the town and the people. They are accepted and treated well in town even if some do almost, pity isn’t the right word, but they seem sad that they won’t be able to have any kind of legacy or lineage. As I said in the review it’s not homophobia it’s being stuck in your ways and it’s an interesting take.

Links:

Shannon McGee Website

The Storygraph

Okay so this one is a bit of a mess. Pieces of it were written 6 months apart and most of it was written while I was kind of delirious but hey at least I can say it’s honest. I still stand by everything my past self wrote and I still really enjoy thinking and talking about this book and am excited for whenever I get around to reading the sequel to continue on Tayrn’s journey with her. This is a book I probably would never have known even existed without ClexaCon and trolling through artist alley for literally every table that had books on them. I guess, moral of the day is maybe you won’t just find great books on library shelves but on unassuming convention tables too and it never hurts to look. Trust me, I’m a lesbrarian.

Oh bet you thought this post was over. I did the sign off and everything but oh no no! I have some info and such to impart. I am WELL AWARE these reviews have been fairly inconsistent to down right sporadic. Well, this is just a little info dump letting you guys know I am gonna be putting up one more review after this one that I wrote ages ago and I mean AGES (think years, as in multiple) and just never got around to posting and then the old blog is probably gonna be going through a PLANNED dormancy while some pretty big stuff is coming down the pike. You may notice visual changes and other stuff before anything else is announced but just keep an eye out. To quote the Fates from Hercules, “It’s gonna be big!”

Okay now for the actual sign off, I got shit to do! No one look behind the curtain, it’s a surprise!

[blushing-starker]

hiii darling!! saw you were a bit desperate for smth sweet and good so!!💗💗

i’ve sent this prompt to jae before, but i still adore the idea of little peter being in daycare and developing a fever! and daddy tony brings him to daddy stephens practice where he works as a family doctor. and so lil peter gets examined by his own daddy and cries in the cutest and most heart aching way when dada gives him an injection to bring down his fever🥺🌡

but tony comforts him of course!

“dada had to do that so you’ll feel better, baby.”

“i’ll see you later today at home, petey. i’ll bring you something yummy from the store, okay? now, go along with papa and cuddle loads with him till i get back home. that’s doctor dada’s orders.” - raf🐇

here you go! The first part while I crank out the second part. I know you read it already but I wanted to at least post it. Thanks for sending me the ask dear! I really appreciate it! 💓

It starts on Monday in the sandbox during recess. Peter doesn't really hang out in the small park right next to the classroom, prefers the cool temperature of the library where Miss Maria often turns a blind eye to his antics involving a screwdriver and the dismantling of any electronic device he and Ned can get their hands on. MJ, just a year older, is halfway sure the librarian purposely leaves old toys on the lowest shelf, but she isn't a snitch and it's, don't tell anyone though, fun to spend time watching the two boys figure out a way to pry open clocks.

His daddies are overjoyed their boy is like them, enamoured by how things work and how they could improve such things with the minimum of resources. In fact, Tony cried while talking over the phone with his mother, eager to tell Maria how her grandson replaced the wheel of a car the daycare was about to throw out in a few days. Peter, ever vigilant, had run to his daddy, afraid he was hurt or sad. He'd thrust the car into Tony's hand to make him feel better and Stephen's absolutely ridiculous husband sobbed harder while nearly suffocating their child in a hug. Maria sent Tony's old engineering kit from when he was a child and their Kleenex ran out the minute Peter wandered over to poke at it.

Stephen shouldn't tease Tony too much. After all, the doctor spent more time bragging about his little boy's intelligence than he did discussing his patients’ conditions. And maybe, just maybe, he sobbed in the bathroom when Ned came for a sleepover and loudly proclaimed his best friend had comforted another classmate when they fell and hurt their knee. Apparently, Peter had sent Ned to warn Miss Wanda while he calmly explained that all they had to do was elevate the area, clean with soap, wrap a Hello Kitty bandaid on the wound, get ice on it and be attentive to any signs of fever.

The whole thing was exactly, word for word, what Stephen had told Peter when his boy tripped on the sidewalk and roughed up a knee. Tony found him sniffling while cleaning out old anatomy books that suspiciously appeared in Pete's bedroom the next day.

They don't talk about it. But now the whole family has a bet on what the young boy's profession will be.

Yes, his daddies are happy he's shown an interest in their fields of study. Yes, they want him to explore and learn and have fun with different subjects. Thing is, they also know how important it is for a child to go outside and play with others. An intake of vitamin D was very good for a growing boy.

(That's bull, they would have gladly given ten thousand toys to Maria Hill for her to leave around the library so the trio could dismantle them. But then Miss Wanda cornered them in the hall and told them that no, Peter also needs a bit of sun and some interactions with people besides Ned, MJ and Shuri, a girl from another group who also liked the library. They begrudgingly agreed.)

So Monday morning after waffles drenched with too much syrup Stephen chooses to ignore are devoured by two sets of grabby hands, Peter’s daddies gently suggest he spend a few minutes playing outside with the others.

Peter pauses, screwdriver in midair and toy car set down on the table with careful movements. There's a little furrow between his brows, so identical to Stephen's that Tony wants to kiss both his boys for being the cutest people in the world. He refrains from doing so because ‘Peter needs to know when we're being serious, Tony, and that means no kisses during serious conversations’.

“Have,” oh no, their boy is chewing his lip, abort mission, abort, “have I been bad, dadas?”

Tony accidentally rams his elbow into his husband's ribs when pouncing on Peter and Stephen is very close to considering divorce. “No! No, baby, you've been good all month. Promise. Daddy and dada just want you to get a bit of sun, play around with the others for a few minutes and then sneak off into the library.”

“ Tony, that isn't what we agreed, oh Christ. “ This elbow jab was on purpose. Stephen stumbles out his chair, muffles the curse words against the kitchen counter while his horrible partner cradles Pete's face and presses kisses all over the boy desperately trying not to stab his daddy with the screwdriver.

“Don't listen to dada, you can spend five minutes out and then visit Miss Hill.”

“ Who? “ That scrunch is back and Tony loves Peter more than anything in the world. Well. No, he loves kissing Peter more than anything in the world. The boy giggles, reciprocates as much as he can until Tony cheats and tickles soft skin under a cotton sweater.

“Miss Maria, Tony. They call her by her first name instead of the last name. I'm getting some ice. Jesus, do you sharpen that thing?”

------

He can be a good boy. He's a good boy. Five minutes outside. Peter can be outside while Ned’s in the bathroom and MJ heats up her lunch for the day.

(Ned and Pete had the daycare mac and cheese; their bestie preferred homemade pizza.)

It's not that he dislikes the park; it's a cool park! There are slides and hiding spots and swings and trees for shade and the wheel that they're only allowed to be on if the teacher's controlling the speed. But the library is always slightly cold and full of adventure.

Sometimes they read a Star Wars book series laid on the floor in a circle with blankets and pillows Miss Maria brings them. If the trio feels tired, Shuri invites them over to the movie area her friends have set up with Disney films queued up. When their spirits are higher, electronics prepare to be dismantled.

Still. He can be good. And, besides Flash who doesn't really get along with him, all of Peter's classmates are nice and fun. The only problem is where to spend, Loki!

Peter runs to the sandbox, jumps over the bridge to a slightly odd looking Loki that's waving his hands in a general ‘no, don't run at me, slow down’ motion. He's too excited to not tackle the teenager that helps Miss Wanda during recess by entertaining twenty kids with wild tales full of magic and wonder.

Hands that never warm up that much immediately curl around a small body and there's a weakened chuckle buried in Peter's fluffy hair. “Hello, little puppy. Odd seeing you without your two companions. Odd seeing you at all, really, since that cute nose of yours is always buried in a toy or book.”

Pete smashes his face into a soft shirt, loves how safe Loki makes him feel with his hugs and hair ruffling. He likes Thor, too, although he prefers the younger brother a lot more. Which Stephen says is a bit unfair since the only reason Thor can't hang out with him as much as Loki does is because the blonde trains during recess with Sif and the others in the wrestling team.

Loki can change his voice a lot; a gift very few have, Peter's grandma once mentioned, and even fewer people use it well. Miss Wanda tries to take them to all the school plays so they can cheer on the others and break routine, but the first graders are very adamant on which theatre kid they love most. Thor's brother could paint the air and make even the most boring speech exciting to hear. Peter was obsessed, dragged his daddies to every play Loki was in and pleaded for a picture afterward. Not that he had to ask for long; the youngest of three would often take multiple shots with Peter before anyone else could even come close to him.

You could say Pete was Loki's number one fan. Which meant he knew how to distinguish between Loki's voices. After the face smashing ritual, he peeled away to squint at cheeks too pale and eyes too red. Relatively tiny fists curled around black cloth.

“Are you hurt, Loki?”

“Not at all, sweet puppy. I'm just sick. Thor and I went back home on Saturday and we seem to have caught a cold. Which is why it's probably better you don't stand so close, wouldn't want you getting sick. My parents decided we should stay home, but I left one of my books here, the one about Viking stories, remember, last Friday and came to pick it up. “

He remembers the book, a heavy thing with a leather cover and wolves drawn on pale paper every few pages. The story about Thor dressing up and tricking the giants is Peter's favorite. Imagining his Thor wear a bride's veil tends to make him giggle.

“So I can't have a kiss?” He pouts, peers at Loki through dark eyelashes, even wobbles a pink lip when it looks like he won't get what he wants. It works as soon as tears cloud his eyes. Like daddy, like son.

The teen sighs, leans down to plant a single kiss on Peter's forehead when a classmate nearby falls into the pit, sand goes up Loki's nose and the dark haired boy sneezes all over Peter.

-------

It takes an hour for him to start sniffling and complain about cotton in his head. Thirty minutes after that, Ned catches him wiping a runny nose with a sleeve. Said sleeve is completely drenched in less than a class’ duration. Miss Wanda calls Tony in to pick his boy up during a midday meeting he couldn't care less about as soon as the teacher says ‘it looks like a cold and he shows symptoms of a fever’.

He probably breaks ten driving laws in the span of fifteen minutes, but that's insignificant when you're friends with Mayor Rogers and your husband fixes up the arm of one Mr Rogers-Buchanan. Tony crashes into the principal's office, deflates with relief when he sees principal Fury teaching Peter how to unscrew a cabinet infamous for being creaky.

“And now I spray a little oil so it doesn't make the weird noises?”

“ That's right, now we take the can, spray just a tiny bit, like I showed you, that's good. Remember to always have a paper towel nearby in case it drips. Those are some very nice pants you have on and I'd hate to see them stained. “ Peter sticks his tongue out, carefully dabs under the oiled up hinge, motions a fond looking Fury to hand him the screwdriver, and gets to work.

Tony leans against the doorway, shushes his friend and Peter's godmother, Nat, when she comes in with coffee for Fury. They stay there, take it all in and realize Pete's growing up. They also realize they might win the bet.

“Ow! Gosh darn it, pinched my finger while getting the cabinet adjusted.” Fury sucks his finger, is probably running through much darker curse words in his head when Peter gently plucks his finger out and presses it against the cold side of a water bottle Miss Wanda most likely gave him to help the fever.

“Ice helps the inflammation, principal Fury. If it doesn't go down, and I don't think it will cuz this is just cold and doesn't have any ice in it, you should eat a snack and take some medicine. “ Tony swears he's never seen Fury more proud or pleased than in that moment.

“Your daddy tell you that, Peter?’

“ Oh no, sir. Daddy can't really, uh, his mind is too busy thinking about building robot bodies to think about human bodies. Don't tell anyone, but grandma says she saw him put butter on his elbow after he knocked it on the door. “

“Really? How old was he? Maybe he was small and didn't know any better.”

“ That was last week, principal Fury. Dada's the one that taught me all about the human body. Daddy couldn't figure out our medicine cabinet with an instructions manual and a Youtube tutorial. “

Tony clears his throat while Fury’s busy howling against the carpeted floor and Natasha cackles on her way to the infirmary.

“Hey, baby. Daddy's here to take you to dada’s.”

[lesbianlovelanguage]

I’m Real (And I Don’t Feel Like Boys)

Harringrove for BLM prompt for the amazing @gideongrace who requested some asexual Robin and Barb. Hope you like it bb.

You can find out more about my HfBLM here, or a whole list of others who are contributing here.

--

Robin’s least favorite stereotype was that all band kids were hypersexual. Sure, band camp got a little wild sometimes, but more because of the weed almost all percussionists had on them at all times or the bottle of tequila the clarinets managed to sneak in. Not because everyone was sucking face and putting instruments in unsavory places. For fucks sake, band camp was even the first place she had ever heard the term asexual in her life. A euphonium player from California casually dropped it in sectionals, and after grilling her on what it meant, Robin had never looked back. It just clicked, like when she realized she could like girls. So, if anything, band camp was where she found out she didn’t have to have sex to be normal, not some month-long orgy.

But, here she was. The first bell hadn’t even wrung and some jock asshole was already giving her shit.

“I bet you know exactly what to do with that cute little mouth, huh Buck?” He leered. Robin tried to ignore him, instead focusing on Great Expectations, one of the summer reading books she hadn’t read. He wasn’t deterred though, instead leaning closer to get in her face as he smirked.

“Ah, come on. Don’t ignore me. We all know you band geeks are little sluts, let’s just have a fun time.” Before she could rip him apart though, a red-haired girl in a frilly blouse stepped between her and the mouthbreather. She was facing Robin, continuing the act that he didn’t even exist. 

“Oh! Hey! Just the person I was looking for! Did you do the homework for Mr. Jackson’s class?” Robin wasn’t even in Mr. Robinson’s class, had tested out of French 103 her sophomore year, but the look on jockhole’s face was enough to convince her to play along.

“Oh, totally. It was so easy, took me like ten minutes tops.”

“Lucky! Maybe you can help me with it at lunch?”

“Uh, sure. Study room in the library?” 

“Perfect.” And just like that, her mystery savior was gone, just as the bell for first period rang through the crowded halls of Hawkins High. All she saw was the look of pure fury on jockhole’s face as she scrambled to her first class. 

-

“This is stupid. She’s not going to be there. Get yourself together Buckley.” Robin muttered to herself as she headed for the library during lunch. She didn’t even know if the girl had the same lunch period as her, but she felt the overwhelming need to try, see if she could thank her for swooping in and rescuing her from a situation that would have most likely ended up with her in detention. 

Once she reached the library, she made a beeline for the study room in the back. It was empty.

Told you this was stupid she thought bitterly. She turned to leave and accidentally bumped into someone.

“Watch where you’re going, dingus,” she snapped before looking up and realizing who she bumped into. Of course it was the girl. Just her luck.

“My name is actually Barb, but I guess dingus works too,” the girl, Barb, said playfully. She was smiling a little despite Robin being a jerk and Robin felt her heart swoon. She hadn’t gotten a good look that morning, but Barb was cute. Not in a traditional way maybe, but Robin had never been one for tradition. But the intense smattering of freckles across Barb’s face, combined with the way her large glasses framed her eyes and made the honey flecks stand out made Robin’s face heat up a little and smile back. 

“Sorry about that. Did you- I mean were you…” Robin trailed off, unsure of how to continue, but wanting to find someway to get Barb to stay.

“I was serious about needing help with french, yeah. And your reputation as having a wicked talent makes me think you’re the perfect person to help.” Barb said smoothly. 

At least one of us is smooth. But there was no way she had a shot. Even if Barb happened to be gay, which was highly unlikely, she definitley wasn’t asexual, probably would sneer at Robin and call her delusional. But, Robin had never been great at self-preservation when it came to pretty girls, so she found herself agreeing to tutor Barb. She followed her into the study room and stood awkwardly as Barb sat down and started to unpack her french work. She looked up from her folder, black sharpie cursive labeling it as French 103, and raised an eyebrow at Robin’s nervously shuffling her feet by the door.

“Are you going to sit down?” Barb asked, not unkindly. 

“Oh,” Robin blurted out. “Yeah, sorry. Let’s see this homework.”

They passed the entire lunch period like that, Robin slowly working through verb conjugation and encouraging Barb everytime she messed up the pronunciations of harder words. With 5 minutes left, Barb began to pack up and looked over at Robin.

“Your accent is really good.”

“Thanks. My ears are kind of little geniuses,” Robin joked. 

“I believe it. You speak a bunch of other languages, right? And you’re in band?” 

“Yeah. I speak Spanish, French, Italian, and Pig Latin. I also play trombone.”

“Wow. That’s the slidey one right?” Barb asked, and Robin couldn’t help the small chuckle that slipped out.

“Yeah, it’s the slidey one.” 

“Cool.”

“Thanks.” Tension began to creep in as their conversation came to a stilted end, but before it could completely fill the small room, Barb spoke up again.

“Would you mind meeting again tomorrow? I just, you’re a really great tutor.” 

“Yeah,” Robin responded quickly. “Yeah, totally. Not like I have much else to do during lunch,” she confessed, thinking about how last year she had spent almost every lunch period hidden away in a practice room by herself. Even if Barb was straight, it was better than the musty walls and silence.

“You’re the best.” With that, the bell rang and both girls headed their separate ways.

-

Lunch tutoring became routine for the girls, after Barb confessed that her best friend, Nancy fucking Wheeler of all people, had been absorbed into Steve Harrington’s group and kind of left her for dead. 

Tutoring progressed into hanging out after school where Robin would bring over french films her parents owned, and then Barb returning with weird B-list horror flicks that they ridiculed together. 

It was during when the kids were climbing into an ice cream van during what was clearly a knock-off of It that Barb surprised Robin in the best way. She reached over and tangled their fingers together where they had rested next to the popcorn bowl. 

Startled, Robin looked over at where she sat and the confusion must have been clear on her face, because Barb simply shrugged and spoke in a soft whisper that was almost drowned out by the movie.

“I like you, I hope that’s okay.” Robin’s ears were ringing, heart in her throat as she bobbed her head dumbly. 

“Yeah, yeah. It’s great,” Robin confessed. 

“Great.” And just like that, Barb turned back and instantly began to make fun of the crappy special effects. 

The warm feeling stayed firmly in Robin’s stomach through the rest of the film, and only intensified as Barb walked her to the door.

“I hope you liked that,” Barb said softly, and Robin knew she wasn’t talking about the movie.

“It really was great, Barb. I, I really liked it.”

“Good. Could I take you to the movies sometime?”

“That sounds perfect,” Robin agreed, and quickly dipped in to press a soft kiss to Barb’s cheek before darting out the front door.

Barb’s smile stuck with her as she drove all the way home.

--

tag team: @lostnoise @gideongrace @stevefuckingharrington @a-magey @trashmouth-hargrove @catharrington (lmk if you would like to be added/removed from the list!)

[soundofseventeen]

Once Upon A Time Epilogue (OT13)

Hi everyone! So I haven’t been able to write much bc school is a mess and work is a mess and everything is a mess. But I had a majority of this written except for the individual parts, so I just sat down and did it after projects today. Also sorry bee. I told her I would write this after the series ended, then I told her I had the plot back in October, and now I finally have it done. Rip. Enjoy! 

After the break of the curse, all the fairy tale members started to get their memories back, and become reunited with their true loves and friends. They came together in the center of their town, looking to each other in confusion. When Jun and his love showed up last, the questions began to form. 

“So there was another curse?” Jeonghan had asked, Jun nodding his head. “So what, we just have to live with the fact that we could get cursed at any moment? What did you do to this Enchantress this time?” 

More questions ensued as people tried to explain. It was a lot to follow and everyone was getting no answers. 

“There has to be a way we can stop her.” Seokmin said, looking at the other princes. Some nodded, while Jun and Seungcheol shook their heads. 

“She’s tough.” Seungcheol looked at Jihoon. “She’s been known to take down whole armies with one spell. You can’t just go up against her without a serious plan and at least 4 back up plans.” 

“He’s right.” Jihoon said, keeping a protective arm around his love. Seungcheol did not fail to notice that, smirking at his guard. 

“So, what?” Joshua looked at Jun now, an eyebrow raised. “Now we’re all stuck here?” 

“I have no idea. We got here somehow, so there has to…” Jun’s voice trailed off, spotting a woman walking towards the group. The others noticed the change in his expression, turning to see her walking towards them. Jun grabbed his love’s arm, slowly pulling her behind him. 

“Who is that?” Chan asked, raising an eyebrow. Jihoon and Wonwoo stepped forward, going in front of the group, while Mingyu slowly pulled his love to the back of the group.

“She’s a witch. She works for the Enchantress.” Wonwoo said, causing everyone to look at him. “We’ve... crossed paths before.” 

“She could be dangerous.” Jihoon said, both guards not taking their eyes off her. 

The woman stopped several feet from the group, simply putting her hands in the air. Most of the group looked at each other confused, but Jihoon and Wonwoo stayed put. 

“What do you want?” Jihoon called out, the woman putting her hands down. 

“I come with no harm.” She called back, Jihoon and Wonwoo looking at each other. 

“How can we be sure?” Wonwoo called. 

“Because the Enchantress is dead.” Jun stepped forward, standing between Jihoon and Wonwoo. 

“What?” 

“Someone snuck into her palace last night and killed her. She is no more.” 

“Are you telling me we could have done that this whole time?” Soonyoung muttered, causing Seungcheol to roll his eyes. 

“We’ve been here the whole time, Soon.” 

“I meant after that first curse.” 

“They used magic, no non-magic person could have done it.” The witch said, sighing. She went to take a step forward, stopping when she saw Jihoon and Wonwoo tense up again. 

“Wonwoo… Isn’t that the witch who helped you?” His love asked, Wonwoo letting out a sigh. 

“Yeah, but you can’t always trust a witch. I learned about her alliance after that.” 

“Look, I’m not here to hurt any of you. I’m here to deliver a message.” 

“What message?” Joshua asked, looking at her intently. 

“There’s a way to go back.” She simply said. 

“What?” Minghao said, stepping forward. “We can go back?” 

“If you want.” 

“What do you mean, if we want?” Vernon asked, looking at his own love. She simply shrugged at him, not sure what’s going on either. 

“There’s a limited window to return to the Enchanted Forest. You have until the end of today to decide.” 

“Why the end of today?” Soonyoung asked, glancing at Mingyu. He was still standing fully in front of his love and looking at the witch in pure fear. 

“Because while the magic of the curse broke when the Enchantress died, part of  it lingers for a while. 24 hours, exactly. Therefore, you all have until 11 pm tonight to make your choice.” 

“...What happens if we stay?” Jihoon’s love asked, causing everyone to look at her. 

“Then you continue life as it was here.” 

“If some of us stay and some of us go…” Seungcheol started, looking towards the witch. “Will we be able to see each other again?” 

“The connection will be closed. Unfortunately, I have other victims to visit. Those of you who wish to leave, meet me at the wishing well on the edge of the forest and I will help you return.” 

“Why should we trust you? This could all be a plot to get us back to the Enchantress.” Soonyoung asked, the witch simply shrugging. 

“Who do you think killed her?” And suddenly, she was gone. 

“Okay.” Jeonghan spoke up, looking around. “She terrifies me.” 

“So… Who’s doing what?” Seungkwan asked, looking around at the group. Everyone looked at each other, aware they had a decision to make. 

Seungcheol and his love went back to the Enchanted Forest. As established leaders in their kingdom, they felt the responsibility to return and figure out what happened to their people. His love wasn’t too fond of this land since she was unconscious for a majority of it. They did start working with the other princes to figure out a way to get back to the land without magic. 

Jeonghan and his love went back to the Enchanted Forest. Jeonghan had no memories of the land without magic and his love didn’t mind being a nurse but wanted to go home. It did motivate her to look into more magical medical remedies (including curses), and she started to work closing with medical staff throughout the kingdom. They are also working to get back to the land without magic though. 

Joshua and his love went back to the Enchanted Forest. While they both enjoyed the land without magic, they were also established in their kingdoms and wanted to return home. Once they did return home, they headstarted the work of figuring out how to get back to the land without magic, missing their friends who stayed. 

Jun and his love stayed in the land without magic. Jun liked his job at the restaurant, and his love loved working at the library. The pair enjoyed having a calm routine, picking each other up from work or visiting each other during free times. They just enjoyed spending time with each other, not worrying about curses or kingdoms or anything else. Plus, they were both a little sick of magic. 

Soonyoung and his love go back to the Enchanted Forest. When they left, Soonyoung’s evil uncle was still in power. Soonyoung couldn’t stand the thought of leaving his future people under his control, and his love was worried about what had happened to the people of the kingdom while they were gone. They immediately started to find a way to overthrow his uncle. 

Wonwoo and his love stayed in the land without magic. His love was originally from here and was curious to figure out how things worked now, and Wonwoo didn’t have much to go back to. He stayed on as a police officer, enjoying the lack of crime within the town. His love continued to work at the daycare, often volunteering at the library on weekends (mainly to read history books about the last 200 years). 

Jihoon and his love stayed in the land without magic. Jihoon wanted to go back with Seungcheol, but he couldn’t deny that this land seemed a lot safer for the pair. He joined Wonwoo at the police station during the week, still working at the record store on weekends. His love stayed at the library during the week, joining Jihoon at the record store other days. 

Seokmin and his love go back to the Enchanted Forest. He was concerned about leaving his kingdom while his love was concerned about being so far away from the sea kingdom for so long. Once they returned, they were happy to see that the kingdom was in tact, and her father wasn’t too upset about them disappearing (once he heard the circumstances, he did still drench the pair, which ended in laughter). 

Mingyu and his love stay in the land without magic. Mingyu knew that if they were to return, he would remain under the control of his father's wishes. He really enjoyed working at the restaurant, and it made him happy to have a job he loved. His love even joined him at the restaurant, making the two of them the cheesiest couple in town. (Jun often threw food at them when they got too cute). 

Minghao and his love go back to the Enchanted Forest. While they had their two dogs and two of the puppies, there was much concern for the remaining 97 puppies. They were relieved to see the rest of the puppies were still in the castle, being taken care of by the staff once they disappeared. They also started looking for a way to return to the land without magic. 

Seungkwan and his love stay in the land without magic. The pair both feared what would happen to them once they returned, knowing that his love was now wanted by the neighboring kingdom for breaking her contract. Seungkwan also wasn’t particularly thrilled with going back to his kingdom. He ended up working at the bar with his love. 

Vernon and his love stay in the land without magic. The witch who kidnapped his love may be gone, but there’s no way to know for sure. Plus given the circumstances, it would be hard to prove she was indeed the lost princess. Considering Vernon was also wanted, they decided to stay. Vernon continued to work at the bar while his love went to work at the daycare, enjoying the interactions with the smaller kids. 

Chan and his love go back to the Enchanted Forest. There was still so much work to be done back in his loves kingdom, and Chan was willing to go back and help. Slowly they managed to bring her kingdom to a healthier place, then together went to assist in other kingdoms. They worked closely with Joshua to find a way to get back to the land without magic, also missing their friends who stayed.

[anistarrose]

The Fishtank Between Time and Space (GF One-Shot)

Summary: Stan doesn’t think much of the pet axolotl Ford left behind… until he realizes hardly anyone else can see it.

Word Count: 2100

Warnings: none

AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20653508

***

Stan initially figures it’s just a weird pet of Ford’s, simple as that. After all, Ford was okay with him adopting a possum and tying a knife to it when they were kids — little pink salamanders are frankly very normal, by the standards of Stanford Pines.

(Not to mention by the standards of the town that is Gravity Falls. Ford could’ve caught all kinds of disturbing creatures out there in the woods, like a feral gnome or a literal sentient fire... or like something that Stan hasn’t even laid eyes upon, only knowing of its existence from the creaking and rattling noises he always hears when venturing through the forest at night. But thankfully, Ford hasn’t invited any rabid beasts or dark entities that Stan knows of into his house, and Stan’s grateful for that.)

But the salamander — the “axolotl,” Stan learns after finally breaking down and doing some basic research — always feels just a little bit off, in a way he sometimes struggles to put his finger on.

He thinks it’s all in his head, how the beady eyes always seem to be fixed on him. How it never seems to stop smiling. How he’s never once seen it eat, even though the food pellets he gives it never seem to accumulate on the bottom of the tank.

He doesn’t know a whole lot about axolotls in general, and on the basis of that ignorance, he convinces himself that the salamander Ford left behind is perfectly normal.

Until one day a few months after Ford’s disappearance, when something rare happens — he has company other than the usual tourists.

It’s just Boyish Dan Corduroy, hired with some of the first spare cash Stan has had in a long time to come in and fix a few squeaky doors. But he takes his time lumbering through the living room on his way out, which sets Stan on edge. None of the secrets he’s hiding are possible to uncover from this floor of the house, but habit keeps him anxious. Throughout the rare times in his life in which he’s had a residence to call his own, visitors have almost always meant bad news.

Dan’s gaze lands on the fishtank, which has been diligently maintained as a healthy environment for salamanders even though the rest of the room is an unorganized mess. (There are a lot of jabs you could take at Stan’s character, but for whatever reason, he’s developed a soft spot for Ford’s old pet.) As always, the axolotl’s eyes stay fixed on Stan, even though the lumberjack is closer.

“You keep this tank pretty clean,” Dan notes. “You gonna buy some fish or something soon?”

“Well, I’ve already got the —” Stan pauses, realizing he’s not sure how to pronounce axolotl. “The salamander.”

Dan presses his face close to the side of the tank, inches from where the axolotl sits, gills twitching. “Really? Where?”

“You serious? It’s literally right in front of your face — that thing with the pink frills and the beady eyes?”

Dan steps back from the tank, throwing an arm behind Stan the clap him on the back. “Ah, I see what you’re doing! It’s a new attraction you’re testing out on me — the invisible salamander! Good one!”

“Are you — are you fucking with me? Can you really not see —”

But Dan’s already leaving. “Good luck with the Murder Hut business!” his voice boomed from the porch outside. “I’ll tell everyone to come visit your invisible friend!”

Stan whirls around back towards the tank. “Do you know what the fuck that was?” he asked the axolotl. “Who’s really pranking me here — Dan, or you?!”

The axolotl offers no reply, and Stan feels like an idiot for the brief moment in which he’d genuinely expected one.

“Maybe Ford did some weird occult shit to you, and you didn’t have a choice in the matter,” Stan mutters, shuddering slightly as he thought back to all the cracked prisms and X-ed out eyes he’d discovered in his brother’s house. “Or maybe I’m going crazy and hallucinated you all along.”

A bubble comes out of the axolotl’s mouth, rising to the top of the tank before bursting with a satisfying — and very real-sounding — pop.

“Thanks for the reassurance.” Stan tosses a handful of food into its tank, and trudges back to his bedroom upstairs.

There was one rule that Stan very quickly established as he began to run the Muder Hut — or the Mystery Shack, as he was thinking of renaming it — and that rule was not to keep anything genuinely supernatural around, unless it was vital to getting Ford back.

But the axolotl… well, it’s still up for debate whether it really is magical, but Dan hadn’t seemed like he’d been joking, and Stan’s pretty sure that if he was going to hallucinate, he wouldn’t imagine into existence a real salamander that he’d never heard of before with perfect accuracy.

Stan doesn’t want to get rid of it, though. He’s gotten used to the axolotl’s company and the routine of caring for it, even though its eyes still weird him out from time to time. And it’s already been around for months without showing any malicious tendencies, so… would there really be any harm in keeping it around?

***

Months, years, and then decades pass, and Stan’s relationship with the axolotl stays more or less the same. He feeds it and cleans its tank, it smiles at him, and he feels just the tiniest bit less lonely. It’s not much in terms of companionship, but Stan is happy to take what he can get. He talks to it sometimes, telling it about all the places he’s searched for Ford’s journals and all the roadblocks he keeps hitting while he works on reactivating the portal, and it always looks so encouraging.

But two things happen during those years — the first being that Stan becomes convinced that something supernatural is going on with that salamander.

Business is booming so dramatically that he can hardly handle it all on his own, and he goes through several handymen and cashiers before eventually firing each one. Almost all of them comment on the empty fishtank at one point or another, gesturing right towards the spot where Stan can see the axolotl floating, clear as day.

He definitely wonders if he really is hallucinating it after all, but then the second interesting thing happens: someone else notices the axolotl. Several someones.

“I didn’t know you had any pets besides the goat, Mr. Pines!” Soos exclaimes on his second full day working at the Mystery Shack, smooshing his face up against the side of the tank. “What a weird fish!”

Stan is so caught of guard that he doesn’t even think to explain that it’s actually a salamander. “Uh… yeah. It sure is.”

Soos frowns. “Something wrong, Mr. Pines?”

Stan folds his arms, shaking his head even though his mind is racing. “Me? I’m fine. Just wasn’t expecting you to spot the shy little guy, since it usually likes to… you know, hide from strangers. Now, were we going to try and fix the golf cart, or not?”

And that’s the end of the axolotl discussion with Soos, over as quickly as it had begun. During the rare occasions Stan leaves the Mystery Shack, he always instructs Soos to feed it, and the axolotl always seems happy and healthy when he returns. He cannot for the life of him figure out why he and Soos seem to be the only two people in the world who can see it, but eventually he gives up on wondering. A mystery like that would’ve always been more of a question for Ford, anyways.

When he hires Wendy, it takes a while for him to realize that she can see it too. She spends so many weeks passing by the fishtank and not commenting on it that when she finally brings it up, Stan nearly spits out his coffee.

“Where’d you get that salamander, Mr. Pines? My science teacher is looking for a class pet, but everyone just keeps suggesting boring stuff like hamsters.”

“Uh… it came with the Shack. Two-for-one kinda deal, you know.”

“Darn, I was hoping you fished it out of the lake or something. Then I could’ve just gone and caught one myself.”

A few years later, when the twins arrive for the summer, Stan’s heart aches as he watches them discover the fishtank for the first time.

“Hey, Dipper, come check this out! Do you know what kind of animal this is?”

“Whoa, is that an axolotl? That’s so cool! I think I read that in Aztec mythology, they’re associated with the god of twins!”

“Really? Then you’ve just made the perfect new summer pals, Mister Axolotl!”

“Don’t tap on the glass like that, Mabel. You might scare it.” Dipper notices Stan watching them, and immediately starts firing off question after question. “Where did you get it? Do you ever show it to tourists? How long have you had it? How long do axolotls live? It looks pretty small — is it still a juvenile? Do they ever get bigger than this?”

Stan sighs. “Kid, I didn’t even know how to pronounce the world ‘axolotl’ until you showed up today. All I know is how to keep it fed — anything else, and you’re better off looking it up at the library or on a computer or wherever.”

“Well, you at least know where you got it from, right?”

Stan scoops a spoonful of food into the tank, avoiding eye contact with Dipper as he headed back to the gift shop. “I do, but it wouldn’t be the Mystery Shack if I didn’t keep a few secrets, would it?”

Dipper groans. “You’re no fun.”

***

When the axolotl disappears, it hits Stan harder than it should.

Even after thirty years of taking care of it, he never quite thought of it as his pet. It always struck him as more like a roommate, if anything — a lovable little freeloader who came in on its own terms, and stuck around only because it liked the place. Stan’s never given any thought as to why, but he’s always just felt weirdly certain that it could leave at any time if it wanted to.

And now, it has.

So he can’t help but wonder if it’s his fault. If he didn’t clean the tank enough, or cleaned it too much, or wasn’t fast enough noticing or resolving the situation with the lobster Mabel dumped in the tank.

Maybe it wasn’t anything he did. Maybe the axolotl just got bored of watching a man spending thirty years lying to tourists, forging his own brother’s signature, failing to learn quantum physics, and ultimately accomplishing absolutely nothing worthwhile.

Eventually, the kids notice and ask him, and this time he can’t spin it as a secret he’s keeping. He genuinely doesn’t know.

***

After Weirdmageddon, Stan’s memories are a two-thousand piece puzzle scattered across a tabletop, and he thinks he’s starting to fit some of the edge pieces together again, but there are still more gaps than connections. He remembers that the people who have been doting on him and showing him pictures are his family, and he remembers that he loves them and trusts them to help restore him to his former self, but progress is just… so… slow.

He doesn’t remember why they say he saved the world. He’s pretty sure they’re stretching the truth a little, but after seeing the way Ford’s face fell when Stan first asked why everyone was calling him a hero, he’s decided not to correct them.

So what if he doesn’t feel heroic? If it makes his family feel better, he’ll keep it to himself — it’s the least he can do, considering how many tears they’ve already shed for him.

But the first morning after his alleged act of heroism, while trudging through the ramshackle ruins of (he thinks) his house — a flicker of motion from behind cracked glass catches his eye.

The fishtank is nearly drained of water, but a familiar salamander sits in the puddle at the bottom, beaming at him. Stan blinks and rubs his eyes, wondering if he’s still dreaming, but then —

It speaks to him, in an ethereal and musical voice that resonates oddly in his ears, like he’s hearing the echo before he hears the words themselves.

I am so proud of you, Stanley.

“For what?”

Everything.

It dissolves into a froth of tiny, pink, glowing bubbles, which burst one by one as they float towards the top of the tank, and then the axolotl is gone.

***

(End notes:

So one day a few weeks ago, I just randomly woke up thinking “what if the Axolotl was only visible to the members of the Zodiac?” and several bouts with writers’ block later, here we are! Thoughts/comments/reblogs are welcomed as always!)

[teardropsonrooftops]

Robots and Fire are a Bad Combination - A Field Trip Fic

Also found on AO3

Peter gets an ominous text from Ned in sixth period. He doesn’t think much of it until after school. Ned doesn’t fanboy about his life, doesn’t talk about his day, instead, he just smiles and sends Peter off to Happy’s car with a wave. It’s suspicious to say the least.

Since it’s Wednesday, Happy drops him off at the tower with a tray stacked high with cups of coffee. Peter balances them with one hand, maneuvering through the security of SI’s lobby with ease. He greets the security guards, complimenting Sally’s new haircut as he goes. Friday takes him up to his regular Wednesday lab. He steps into the chaos with a sigh. He missed these guys.

“Thank you,” Ryan quickly says as he jogs past, grabbing his coffee from the top of the stack. He almost trips over one of the team’s robots, but he swerves at the last second.

Maya smiles as Ryan regains his balance. She gestures to the comm in her ear, indicating she’s on a call. and takes her own cup. Peter almost laughs as her face goes from friendly to serious. She steps off to the side, arguing furiously into her comm.

He does laugh when Ryan runs into a wall.

Bella calls him over from her hunched position over her desk. She holds out a hand, trusting him to give her the correct cup. He thinks about giving her Max’s for a second, but ultimately decides against it. Last time Bella didn’t get her coffee, things didn’t end well. She takes a sip, not taking her eyes off the experiment in front of her.

Peter snickers. Luke grabs his shoulder, pulling him towards his own desk, littered with papers and scraps of metal. Luke takes the tray from him and grins.

“You will never believe what I found,” he says, a slightly manic tone to his voice. There are bags under his eyes, and Peter wants to scold him.

“When’s the last time you slept?” he cuts Luke’s next sentence off with a frown.

“That doesn’t matter. You know that material we’ve been looking for? I found the formula. Isn’t that great? We can just make it ourselves.”

Peter levels him with a glare. Luke shrinks under the gaze. “When was the last time you slept?” he repeats.

“Yesterday morning,” Luke admits.

Peter sighs. He looks around the lab, searching for something. “Misael,” he calls out, “can you take Luke down to the bunks? Minimum of six hours. And, while you’re at it, you should stay. I can look at your equations while you’re gone.”

Misael looks up from his work, blinking sleepily. He muffles a yawn and nods. Luke sends a pleading look in Maya’s direction, receiving only a smirk in response. Misael grabs Luke’s arm and drags him into the elevator. As the doors close, Peter sees him lean heavily against Luke’s shoulder.

He sighs again. They really are messes.

His attention is pulled to Ryan as a boom sounds through the lab. Everybody stops, looks at Ryan, and continues on with their business. Ryan gives Peter an uneasy grin, shrugging. His desk is on fire.

It will be a long day.

When Peter finally stumbles into the elevator near midnight, he’s sporting a wide smile. His face is covered in dirt and grease, but he’s happy. He collapses onto the couch in the living room. Friday will wake him up before school.

“Underoos? That you?”

Peter blinks slowly at the blue light approaching him. He covers his giggles with a cough, thinking about what Tony would be like as a wisp. His mind conjures the image of a floating blue ball of energy, bells chiming angrily around it when Peter does something stupid. He’s not sure if he’s successful with his cover up.

“Come on, kid. Let’s get you to your room. Geez, did you take a bath in oil? Why do you smell like a car shop?”

“Saahir,” he mumbles into the crook of Tony’s neck. His hands stick to Tony’s shirt, holding him up effortlessly.

“I should have known. That man brings trouble wherever he goes. What was it this time?”

Peter detaches himself from the shirt and smiles up at Tony. “New robot idea. This one flies.” He ignores Tony’s heavy breath out through his nose, instead focusing on not falling as he washes his face in his bathroom sink.

He yawns once more, pushing the door shut after Tony hands him clean clothes. He changes into them, only missing the arm hole of his shirt twice. He hears Tony laugh as he steps out, almost falling asleep where he stands. Peter yawns again. He closes his eyes and feels himself start to fall, but then it goes black.

He wakes to a slight beeping. He groans, flailing out his arm to hit the alarm clock. It tumbles to the ground, but he can’t find it in him to care. It’s time for school.

The smell of pancakes greets him as he steps into the kitchen. He takes a deep breath in, savoring the smell of syrup so early in the morning.

“Look who’s finally up,” Tony chuckles. “Sit down, Happy’s running a little late this morning, so we have some time. Want pancakes?”

Peter smiles. He loves his life.

Happy drops him off at the front steps, early enough that nobody questions it. The only students outside give him a wave as he steps happily up into the school. He sees them every morning. At first, the early arrivals were curious, but Peter explained his internship, and they forgot about it.

He meets Ned and MJ in the library. MJ, headphones in, gives him a slight nod. He returns it with a wide grin. Ned greets him, but it seems off. Peter brushes it off, putting the information aside for later use.

Ned fills the time before class with a rant about one of their teachers, and everything is back to normal. Or so Peter thinks.

Then, at lunch, Ned gives him a specific smile, one he only uses when he’s hiding something. Peter knows something is wrong. The last time Ned smiled like that was when he was planning Peter’s surprise party.

He decides to ask MJ about it, because MJ knows all.

“If he’s not telling you, what makes you think I’ll tell you?” she says with an unimpressed scoff. “Focus on your work, loser.”

Peter shrugs it off. If it’s important, Ned will tell him. Right?

Friday arrives, and Ned still hasn’t told him what he’s hiding. Peter feels off about the whole situation. It doesn’t help when Flash increases his taunts, even going so far as to push him harshly into the lockers after lunch.

Happy picks him up after the last bell ends. Peter frowns, lost in thought, not noticing Happy eyeing him from the front seat. Finally, Happy sighs, getting his attention.

“Alright, kid. What’s wrong?”

That’s all it takes. “Ned’s keeping something from me, and it’s making me uncomfortable. I know it’s not bad, because he would tell me if it is, right? He’s been acting like this since Wednesday, and at first I thought it was just a minor thing, but now I’m not so sure. What should I do, Happy?”

“Have you tried asking him?”

Oh, shit. That’s a great idea. He searches through his bag for his phone, tapping at the screen and finding Ned’s contact. He decides to text him.

“Hey-” he starts, but he stops when he looks up. Happy has rolled up the visor. Oh, well.

Peter - Hey, dude. Is there any specific reason that my Spidey Senses think you’re keeping something from me?

He thinks that’s the best way to ask. If he involves his powers, Ned will probably fixate on that, gushing over how cool it is he can detect stuff like that. He waits, fingers tapping out a quick rhythm on his thigh.

Ned - How did you know???

Peter - I told you, Spidey Sense. It knows all.

Ned - Amazing. I promise I’m not hiding something huge!! It’s just a secret, well, kind of.

Ned texts like he talks, all emphasis and run-on sentences.

Ned - My Math class is going on a field trip tomorrow, is all. It’s not that important, but I figured you’d be jealous that your class doesn’t get to go. You know, since you guys lost the competition!

Of course he would hold that over his head. Peter makes a note to get back at him for that.

Peter - It’s cool. I didn’t want to go anyway. :(

He tucks his phone into his pocket as Happy opens his door. He does his usual routine, greeting the guards and the workers in line for security. The elevator, empty except for Peter, speeds up to the communal floor, doors opening with a slight ding.

Clint waves from the couch, eyes fixed on the television displaying his character beating Sam’s in a racing game. Peter rolls his eyes. He throws his backpack into the corner and perches on the back of the couch, watching the game from behind the players. They trade positions as the day goes on, the sun eventually setting behind the buildings on the horizon.

Eventually, Steve calls everybody to the communal kitchen. He hands out plates stacked high with glorious smelling foods. Peter gets the biggest plate; he takes it with a grin.

“How was school, Pete?” Clint asks, mouth already full of food as they settle down at the table.

“You spent four hours playing video games with him, but you didn’t ask about his day?” Natasha asks, eyebrow raised. Clint pointedly ignores her.

“It was pretty good. I aced my chem test, got the highest grade in my class. Oh, and at lunch, MJ gave me this sketch of my face when I got my test back. It was pretty cool. She’s a good artist when she wants to be. I’m still convinced she transferred out of art because she didn’t want the attention. She claims it’s because she’s not good at it.”

Clint nods along, but Peter can tell he’s not paying attention. He looks to Natasha and finds her staring at Steve, face blank.

Steve seems to be arguing with Thor about politics, so Peter turns to his food. One time hearing that conversation is enough. They basically repeat it every time.

The next morning, Peter wakes up feeling refreshed.

He heads down to the labs after breakfast, skipping over to Saahir’s station. Their robot buzzes overhead, and Peter can hear each part moving as it spins its rotors. It sounds good, but it looks even better. Peter had convinced Saahir to paint it in Spider-Man colors, red and blue with a black spider emblem on the bottom. Peter loves it.

“The question is,” Peter says as he dramatically lowers himself into his chair, “what do we name it?”

They bounce names off of each other, but they get distracted by Maya pretty quickly. She causes a small explosion with the chemicals she’s pouring. Peter rushes over. He gets Friday to switch the smoke fans on, his voice a little bit panicked.

The elevator dings, which is the least of Peter’s worries, but he still registers the small noise. He’s too busy trying to convince Saahir’s drone away from the fire to hear the dozen or so heartbeats that enter the room. He jumps from his spot on top of Maya’s desk, grabs the robot from midair, and lands with a roll to save his bones from the tile floor. He’s still a little beat up from patrol on Thursday.

He stands, brushing off his jeans, and it’s then that he hears the silence. The lab is never silent, so he knows something’s wrong. He turns around slowly.

The sixth period AP math class of Midtown High stands in the elevator, eyes wide and jaws hanging. Ava, the tour guide, looks unamused, but Ms. Warren regards him with an awed expression.

The lab goes back to normal, back to the organized chaos that it is. Saahir gently pries his robot from Peter’s hands and backs away slowly. Maya puts out the fire with a fire blanket handed to her by Luke. Ryan runs past them, always rushing off somewhere.

“So, Ned, you didn’t tell me the field trip was to Stark Tower.”

The class erupts into questions. Ned looks ecstatic. He waves towards Luke with a wide grin. Betty and Abe are the loudest, asking why there was a fire on a lab floor and why Peter was taking care of it. Flash looks angry. Oh no. Ava steps in, clearing her throat for the class’ attention.

“As you can see, the lab floors take safety very seriously. We have precautions in place to stop accidents like this, but it might be too early in the morning for a bunch of scientists to use their brains.” She aims that last part at Maya. Maya looks unapologetic, eyebrows raised as she sips stale coffee from the crappy coffee maker in the corner.

“Is Peter an intern here?” Cindy asks, her hand slightly raised.

“Yes, he is. Well, maybe not an intern anymore, more like a younger scientist. He is Mr. Stark’s protege, but Stark lends him out to the labs sometimes.” Ava ignores the gawking looks. She leads the class around the lab, introducing each scientist and what they’re working on.

Peter pulls Ned away from the group.

“Ned! What the hell were you thinking? Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Oops? I know this isn’t the best situation, but, hey, now they know for sure that you have an internship! Flash won’t bother you anymore.”

Peter almost growls. Instead, he looks up to the ceiling and prays to Thor, which probably isn’t the best idea, considering the god is in the tower. Whatever, he decides, Thor doesn’t hear his prayers anyway.

Ava moves the class back into the elevator, deflecting any questions about Peter and the fire.

The doors close, leaving Peter to collapse in a chair, provided helpfully by Misael. He groans into his hands.

“Friday?”

“Yes, Peter.”

“Tell Bucky to meet me in the gym.”

“He is on his way.”

Peter lets himself fall into a fighting stance. It comes easy to him now. His shoulders roll, his heartbeat slowing to a steady rhythm. He dodges Bucky’s punches and kicks. His body bends unnaturally to avoid the hits, something almost inhuman.

He’s completely at ease. Maybe that’s why he doesn’t hear them enter.

“Is Peter fighting an Avenger?”

“Is that actually Peter?”

“He’s fighting the Winter Soldier!”

“No way can Parker fight an Avenger.”

Peter freezes, a bad move when Bucky is throwing punches at him. He ducks under a right hook, twisting his body to see the class huddled in the corner of the gym. Bucky uses this, but Peter flips out of the way. He calls the fight, making a ‘T’ with his hands.

“Bucky,” he whispers. His eyes dart to the group gawking at them.

Bucky straightens, shoulders set and jaw tense. He steps in front of Peter, shielding him with his body. He clears his throat.

“Hello,” he says, “Ned, what’s going on?”

Ned knows all of them, and Peter can hear bucky’s heart calm when he meets his eyes. Ned has a calming presence.

“Our class is on a field trip! Ava said we could visit the lower gym, but we didn’t expect anybody to be in here. It’s nice to see you again, Bucky!”

“You as well,” he says, his lips twitching with the hint of a smile.

Peter catches Flash’s glare, and he shrinks back. Bucky doesn’t notice.

“I’m going to go clean up, Bucky. That okay?”

“Of course.”

Peter passes him, slightly freezing in front of the crowd before pushing through them. They follow him out, asking questions and shouting at him. He fixates on Ned’s heartbeat, the steady thumping keeping him level through the noise.

Flash’s voice cuts through the shouting. “What did you do to get this job, Penis?” He doesn’t say it loudly, but everybody around him quiets, leaving only silence around his words. “Did you beg? We all know you don’t have the money to pay them off. Do you get on your knees? Did they use you?”

Peter spins on his feet, face flushed with anger as he eyes down Flash.

“You don’t get to speak that way about my family.” His voice is low, but there’s a fire in his eyes. “I earned my place. You’re disgusting, Flash, and I hope you realise that some day. But for now, I’ll be here to remind you.” Peter steps back, and the crowd parts like a wave.

“Well,” a new voice cuts in, “that was a fun display. We rarely get to see angry Peter these days.”

Peter smiles. He turns to Tony and gives him an unimpressed scoff. “You see me angry enough.”

“Yeah, I guess I do. Too bad this beautiful moment is about to be ruined. A certain someone heard a prayer earlier and wants to help.”

Shit, he thinks. Thor.

“Tonyson!” Thor shouts. He steps through the door and opens his arms. Peter doesn’t hesitate to jump into a tight hug. “I have missed you!”

“You saw him last night, Sparky.”

“Shut up, Tony,” Peter mumbles into Thor’s shoulder.

“Um, excuse me,” Abe says softly, his voice wavering, “what’s going on?”

“Friday told us there was something going on down here, and Thor wanted to see Pete, so we came. Now, Eugene Thompson, my lawyers will be talking to Principal Morita on Monday. I recommend you tell your parents you’ve been bullying my kid. Any questions?”

Peter moves to stand beside Tony.

Cindy hesitantly raises her hand. “Peter, how did you fight like that?”

“Um, I practice? It’s all training, really.”

The class nods, pleased with the answer.

“Now, if we’re done here, Peter and I have nanites to attend to in my private lab.” He guides him away with a gentle hand on his shoulder. As the three board the elevator, Peter gives one last wave to the group. They disappear from view.

Betty leans over to Cindy. She whispers behind her hand, “When do you think Peter will realise we know he’s Spider-Man?”

Cindy shrugs. “I don’t know, but as long as Flash doesn’t know, we have free entertainment.”

[momoyomaki]

Could Five realistically be autistic based solely on what we see on the show?

I stumbled across the theory that Five is autistic, and as someone with autism I find that very interesting. I’m not yet convinced he does have autism, but I’m not convinced he doesn’t either.

So let’s take this apart. :cracks knuckles:

First off, a couple things to keep in mind:

-No two autistic people are exactly the same.

-I am drawing on my own experience living with autism, and what I’ve witnessed from my sister and the kids I work with.

-Disabilities that affect the brain overlap. Many different things can affect the same areas of the brain, and we just categorize things for ease of assigning coping mechanisms. For example, if you were to take a brain scan of my brother who has PTSD, my sister who has brain damage from childhood trauma, and myself with autism, the scans would look very similar.

-Whether or not Five has autism, he most definitely has PTSD.

-Please chime in with your own theories and experiences, I’d love to open this TED talk up.

Ok here we go:

Klaus calls Five addicted to the apocalypse and he’s not wrong. Through an autistic lens, obsessing and hyper-fixating is like our bread and butter. My hyper-fixations have driven me to all sorts of extremes, like staying up for 24 hours, and giving myself heatstroke by hyper-fixating while outside. Whether Five is autistic or not he can obviously relate. His obsession with stopping the apocalypse drives him for 40+ years. He carries an eyeball around the entire time. His fixation on returning to his family keeps him going through his career as a hitman, something he makes clear he didn’t enjoy. On that note, he spent an episode walking around with a goddamn bullet wound. Talk about mind over matter, and also another tick in the hyper-fixation column. Again, when he checks on Klaus after he time travels to the Vietnam War, he’s clearly concerned for him, but gets sidetracked once again by his need to stop the apocalypse. Which is honestly valid, I mean, it’s the apocalypse.

Dolores. Anybody whose seen a decent therapist will probably have been told “yeah I know it sounds crazy, but try talking to yourself.” Being your own sounding board is a very healthy thing believe it or not, and Five uses Dolores for this purpose. Those with autism in my experience have crazy good imaginations. If I try hard enough I can fabricate fake memories to the point where I can’t quite remember it’s not true. I think this has a lot to do with the way autism thinks in pictures. Imaginary friend anyone? So Five finding Dolores and talking with her as if she were real for so long that he actually sees and hears her as a person? Totally believable and something I could see having happened to myself under the right circumstances. That being said, I feel he’s probably perfectly aware that she is, in fact, a mannequin. Dolores can be seen as a sign of Five having snapped or as a brilliant way of keeping his sanity while isolated for decades.

Coffee. Five’s caffeine addiction is probably not related to autism in anyway whatsoever, but boy can I relate. Coffee is my holy grail because it calms my personal blend of brain chemicals down enough for me to focus on things like driving. Of course that’s my ADHD talking. It’s not uncommon for those with autism to also have ADHD, but that’s a whole other post. So let’s just say Five’s relatable and leave it at that.

Sarcasm and Snark. Possibly the most common coping mechanism ever for any problem in existence. Probably just a part of Five’s glorious personality, but let’s say he developed it the way I did. As a way of taking on the world, sarcasm makes everything more bearable. It’s also a form of humor and nothing is as good as humor to cover social missteps. It takes you from being a weird outcast to being the Funny/Sarcastic Friend™️.

Five and routine. The first thing Five does when returning to the past is make his signature sandwich. Here he is, back with his family after all this time, and he doesn’t allow himself to bask in that, because the count down to the apocalypse has started. There’s no way he isn’t thrown off though, come on. 13 years old again with his family alive. When feeling shaken, most people with autism will absolutely fall back into routines even if they’re old ones. And who wants to bet he drove past at least one other perfectly serviceable shop with coffee on his way to Griddy’s and ignored them in favour of familiarity? And of course he works to get Dolores back right off the bat. When upset over the lab getting blown up he returns to what we can assume was home during the apocalypse; the library.

Five and his ability to take people at face value despite his overactive paranoia. From my experience working with those with autism, autistic people are some of the most forgiving people you will ever meet. This doesn’t have to come from a place of kindness. It’s more our black and white nature. Something used to be this way, and now it’s that way. We tend to just accept it where others might have a million questions. This goes hand in hand with our people sense. Oh we suck at reading social cues, but our instincts in regards to a persons trustworthiness are generally bang on. You see this in Five’s chat with Hazel. He doesn’t seem to have a problem buying what Hazel’s selling. Same with Klaus, who he acknowledges more then his other siblings even if it’s in a snarky manner. (He didn’t shoot Klaus down when he talked about conjuring their dad unlike Luther, and despite his angry reaction he took Klaus’ point about being addicted to the apocalypse seriously.) He gets angry when Vanya doesn’t believe him about the apocalypse but when it becomes clear that her disbelief is not malicious he doesn’t take it out on her. In contrast he doesn’t buy the Handler’s bullshit. To sum it up, Five is a practical people person, with good instincts but an outdated copy of Social Cues for Dummies. Is this autism or an effect of 40+ years alone? Both?

Five, the pragmatist. As the Handler says, Five is a first rate pragmatist which fits how a lot of those on the spectrum are very blunt, black and white thinkers. Where my family can debate politics for hours, my opinion is always the straightest path to whatever outcome I’m arguing for.

Five and clothes. Those on the spectrum tend to be hypersensitive, and clothing can be a Thing™️ for us. Certain materials feel like they're made of needles as opposed to just itchy, jeans are too tight, turtlenecks feel like a noose, etc. This is common, but sometimes it’s less about comfy sweatpants and more about familiarity. I have an undercut and if I don’t have time to get it shaved at the usual point, I get panicky. My hair feels slightly different, it looks slightly different, and it all just doesn't feel right. Five grew up wearing the academy uniform, and while he didn’t have the luxury of a suit and tie in the apocalypse, wearing a suit was clearly important to him during his time with the Commission. Even the Handler took notice, and gifted him a suit. And the second thing he does after making a sandwich in the past is find a suit that fits him. Ok, he didn’t have any options, but he didn’t have to wear the whole outfit. He could have mixed and matched. He could have stolen something from the department store. But no, he’s got to wear a suit jacket and tie. He even grabbed his tie off the guy he strangled at Griddy’s before he took care of the last dude. (Badass power move btw.) So I find it believable that the uniform was partially about appearances and partially about Five’s comfort zone, physically speaking.

(But wait, I hear you say, how can you throw in hypersensitivity when back up this post you claimed Five could have ignored his bullet wound via hyper-fixation? Here’s the thing, hyper-fixation basically mutes the notifications our bodies send us. We can be uncontrollably hypersensitive and still not clue into our bodies screaming at us while we fixate on something. But boy, we sure notice when we snap out of it.)

Five is all or nothing, ride or die. Oh boy is he ever. And most autistic people are too. We put our all into everything we do. Doesn’t always translate to doing it well, but we definitely give it our all. (In fact, we tend to over do things and need some serious recouping time after.) This can cover things already in the hyper-fixation section, like his obsession with the apocalypse. But going all in for something is different from the magnetic pull of hyper-fixation. It’s a conscious decision for one thing. The biggest example for Five is his commitment to his family. The Hargreeves are a dysfunctional family, and Five didn’t escape this by jumping to the future. He’s hardly the perfect brother but he’s the most invested in his siblings nonetheless. He became a killer for them, threw morals out the window for the slim chance he might be able to save them. And as is established pretty quickly, he put his all into being a hitman, becoming the best there ever was. That fight scene in the diner speaks for itself. And slicing up his own arm to get at the tracker? Well, it’s pretty clear that when Five commits to something he doesn’t mess around.

Five and math. Here we hit a stereotype about autistic people and their ‘special interests.’ Yeah, it’s really common, but what most people don’t know is that the majority of those on the spectrum are not math geniuses, or geniuses of any other kind. My sister’s ‘special interest’ is still relatively useful, being science, but she’s not a genius. Mine is ‘stories.’ Books, movies, theatre, music, etc. I can devour fiction forever. It’s basically useless to society though, because I’m picky af. But okay, Five fits the stereotype and is a math genius, or at least where it applies to time travel. We see this in the flashback already. Ok, time travelling didn’t work out as he’d hoped, but he managed it at 13 when even Reginald didn’t think he could. This makes me think that his tendency to spend hours working out equations didn’t start in the apocalypse.

Does Five stim? If so, we don’t really see it. That doesn’t rule out autism though, because, well, it’s a spectrum. I only stimmed as a toddler. Some people don’t stim at all.

Vanya. Another theory I’ve seen thrown around is that Vanya is autistic. I’m not going to address that here, but I do want to say that if she is, that wouldn't affect whether or not Five is autistic. Autism is not personality after all, and they are very different people. Again, autism is a spectrum and nobody displays all the same traits. If you’re thinking it would be unrealistic for Reginald. To have adopted two kids with autism, think again. That one autistic sister of mine? Adopted as a baby before we had any idea that she was a mini me.

Five doesn’t appear obviously autistic. What most people don’t realize is that autism is at the end of the day an invisible disability. Most people will know someone at some point on the spectrum and never even realize it. Because sure, sometimes you’ll see us rocking under the table or otherwise displaying what movies have stereotyped as autistic behaviour, but most of the time you won’t notice. We’re the slightly overly bright cashier at Walmart, the quiet bookworm at school, your favourite author that writes emotions so well, the person at comic con who can recite their favourite movie line for line, that kid that gets along best with those older or younger then them. If Five is autistic we may never know, because he’s perfectly functional, but that's hardly and argument against autism either.

And finally; people relate. Nobody knows autism better then those with autism themselves, so I’m inclined to take all the posts I’ve seen about Autistic!Five as a pretty big point on the autism column.

To summarize; none of these points taken alone indicate autism, but together well.... it’s an option at least.

Thank you for coming to my TED talk, I will now open the stage to audience input before this monster grows any longer.

[urfavepisces]

it was all fake right?/peter kavinsky  one shot pt. II

a/n: i honestly can’t believe all of the love you’ve all shown me on ‘this is fake right?’! thank you so much for reading it and i hope this next part is equally entertaining. also the line breaks and italicized words indicate that it happened in the past. once again i hope you all enjoy this one (:

part I (this is fake right?)

word count: 2,540 (yikes, sorry i got carried away)

warnings: a few cuss words lmao 

“The limit does not exist if-if the value of x is zero?” You turned the note card around to reveal if you had gotten it right and seeing the answer made you shout out, “YES!” Immediately making the other kids look up at you glaring in your direction.

You hunched back into your seat, “My bad.” You offered a sheepish smile but were met with a few of them rolling their eyes at you and went back to their own text books and laptops.

You’d been studying nonstop for your Calculus midterm coming up in a couple of weeks and you needed an A especially if you were going to pass the class. Currently, you barely had a B and you were freaking out. The universities you were going to be applying to in a year and a half needed to see that you took school serious and your future depended on it.

Usually you were on top of your shit. When projects were assigned you usually planned them out the next day and had them done at least a week before they were due. Tests were a toss up to be honest, when it came to English and History either you knew it or you didn’t. So studying for those two subjects rarely happened. However, when it came to Calculus and Spanish you  were always making sure you got the material down before a quiz, midterm and especially a final.

But ever since you and Peter decided to start this fake relationship your priorities had shuffled and school became second when it came to him. You two were halfway through the second month of it and you were falling behind on your classes that you knew you needed to put in extra effort to comprehend the material.

Mrs. McBride and Mr. Barrios were disappointed in your lack of care for their class. You hung your head in shame when they confronted you on your poor performance in their class, they even said they’d wanted to contact your Dad but you let them know that you would definitely be trying a lot harder from now on.  

He had more on his plate than he could handle at times and he didn’t need to worry about how you were doing in school. You couldn’t stand to disappointed the sweet man.

You shook your head and focused back on the flash cards before you. You went through them three more times before you switched over to finishing an assignment for Spanish that was due the next day. As you started to write your name on top of the worksheet, your name was being yelled.

Your had snapped up almost causing you whiplash before your vision settled on your best friend, Angelina Thompson. You narrowed your eyes and gave her the look you always did when she was doing too much but of course she couldn’t take a hint and waltzed up to the table you were sitting at and sat herself right on top of it.

“Girl, where have you been?” I texted your ass like five times and you know I don’t do that for just anybody.” She raised her eyebrows at you and flicked her locs over her shoulder.

You could feel the other students’ eyes on you again and this time they looked like they were going to cuss you out. Angie noticed their stares, “Excuse me. Mind your business.” She waved them away with her hand.

Before one of them could be bold enough to say anything you hurriedly gathered your things and stuffed them into your back pack before grabbing onto her arm and dragging you both outside of the school library.

“You know you do too much sometimes. We’re literally in a library, you can’t just be loud like that.” You looked at her pointedly.

She shrugged, “Yea well I wouldn’t have to if Peter ‘puppy dog eyes’ Kavinsky wasn’t talking my ear off, asking where you were.” She jabbed her finger into your shoulder making you slap her hand away.

You scratched your scalp before walking down the hallway, “Sorry I had to study. I’m not doing well in some of my classes and I’m not trying to have my Dad find out.”

She nodded understanding where you were coming from, “Ok well it still doesn’t explain why your boyfriend is bugging me about it. Y’all don’t text each other or talk?”

You didn’t respond immediately because you didn't know how to word your explanation. Ever since the movie night, you had started to actually fall for Peter and you couldn’t help but do it. Peter Kavinsky was a sweet person who constantly looked after you and all the little things he did were starting to get to you.

The Monday after the movie night, you two were the talk of the school more than ever before.

During third period, you got a hall pass and went to the bathroom. As you flushed and pulled your pants up, the door opened and your name was being mentioned.

“So looks like Peter is over you, him and Y/N look like they’re getting serious.” A voice you made out to be Jackie Lawson which meant the only other person she could be talking to was Jessica Meyers, Peter’s ex girlfriend.

You heard Jess scoff, “Please we both know that whatever they have is nothing compared to my and Peter’s relationship. You know we still text.”

If it was actually plausible that your heart could stop beating, you’re sure that that’s what it just did. Anytime you thought that maybe, just maybe this thing between Peter and you was morphing into something real you were thrust back into reality.

You went closer to the door of the stall you were currently in. You thanked the heavens that you were in the last one so they couldn't tell someone else was in the bathroom with them.

“I’m just saying Jess, the way he looks at her is special. Plus I heard he’s taking her on the annual ski trip and we all know what happens on the ski trip.” You could hear Jess sigh loudly before saying, “Yea I guess we’ll just see.”

They left a few minutes after that and you finally felt like you could breathe. Even though you’d agreed to the trip when you two came up with the terms of the contract, now you weren’t so sure anymore that you could go through with it.

 The very next day, you went along with the usual routine you two had. You sat with him at lunch and tried to engage with his friends who were slowly becoming your friends as well but you were mentally checked out. Your mind was a chaotic mess going through all the moments you and Peter shared and whether they were real or just part of the pact you two took.

Peter had noticed how quiet you were and the hand he had on your thigh, lightly squeezed the smooth skin. You blinked a few times before turning your head towards him.

“You good?” His pretty brown eyes scanned over your features before settling on your eyes gauging them for how you were feeling.

You simply nodded and brought your hand to your ear, lightly squeezing the lobe. It was a tall tale sign that you were lying and he figured it out three weeks into the fake relationship.

“Yea Peter. Actually, Angie wanted me to meet her before lunch ended.” You grabbed onto your back pack and stood up, “So I’m going to head out.”

Peter stared up at you and desperately wanted to say something about you lying to him but he decided against it and let you go reluctantly.

“Sure, we’re still hanging out after school right?” He smiled hopefully.

You nodded, “Yea sure, maybe. I don’t know actually because of homework and stuff but I’ll let you know.” You gave him a half-assed smile and scurried out of the cafeteria, if you had turned around you would’ve seen the confused and hurt look on Peter Kavinsky’s pretty face.

After school that day you avoided Peter and ended up walking home from school. You were lucky that your Dad had picked your sister up early from school for an orthodontist appointment so you didn’t have to deal with that awkward ordeal.

When you walked home your phone had been buzzing nonstop and you knew it was Peter. Your heart sank feeling bad for ignoring him but you had no choice you had to protect yourself. Your feelings were starting to become too much and you weren’t ready to deal with them or Peter.

Angie’s face remained emotionless and you were freaking out about how she was going to react. You just wanted to her say something.

You nudged her arm, “Angie I can’t take this, I need your help.” You cried.

She blinked a couple of times coming out of her stupor, “Girl I can’t believe y’all agreed to a fake relationship only for y’all to actually develop feelings.” Angie couldn’t help but laugh at the absurdity of her best friend’s situation.

“I didn’t mean to-wait you said both of us caught feelings. How?” You held on tightly to your black binder.

She rolled her eyes, “How do you not see the way homeboy looks at you. Lowkey makes me gag sometimes but I love you so I think it’s kind of cute. For real Y/N think about it. Think of the things he’s done and does for you just to make life easier on you plus I don’t think anyone could listen to your little sister sing for more than five minutes but he did it with no hesitation.”

All you could do was shrug. You really had no idea and it didn't matter that she told you all these things because a huge part of you thought that there was absolutely no way Peter Kavinsky liked you like that. Especially after what you’d heard in the bathroom a couple days ago. This was merely business and you needed to get your shit together if you were going to fulfill your side of the deal.

“Come on girl, Peter doesn’t like me. It’s all fake.” You started to walk towards your locker with her in tow.

She swung her arm around your shoulders, “Yea okay.” Angie gave you her infamous side eye and left it at that.

“Y/N!” You two turned at the sound of your name being called and your crush the one that had also gotten that forsaken letter came into view.

Danny Luna was also one of the popular guys in school but Peter was a couple notches above him.

You looked to your best friend for help but she just smirked and left you two by yourselves. You narrowed your eyes at her retreating form before turning back towards your locker.

“Hey Danny.” You settled on rearranging your textbooks not trying to really acknowledge him.

He leaned against your locker looking at you expectantly before speaking, “So you and Peter Kavinsky?”

You nodded, praying that that would be enough of an explanation.

He pulled on one of his back pack straps and scratched the back of his neck, “I’m just surprised because that letter you wrote it-.” The sound of your locker slamming shut cut him off, “Sorry Danny, I just don’t feel that way anymore plus you and my sister had a thing.”  He shook his head, “No yea of course. It’s just I was thinking that we could talk about it.”

Before you could respond, you caught sight of Peter heading down the hall towards you two. “I-uh gotta go Danny.” You walked away, your feet hurriedly getting you away from the uneasy situation.

As you rounded the corner, you heard his voice, “Whoa, whoa, whoa Y/N hold on.”

You’d miss the sleepy drawl of his voice even though it’d only been a day since you two actually talked. You looked up at him but decided to fix your gaze somewhere else, Peter always had a way of making you melt just by him simply looking at you.

“What’s going on? We were supposed to hang out yesterday and you bailed, Never even texted me back or answered my calls. You’ve been avoiding me and now I see you talking to Danny Luna.” He was irritated, you could tell just by how fast he was speaking.

While he’s talking, all you could really do was focus on the campaign poster behind him.

Hmm…you didn’t know Melanie Gibson was running for junior class president, good for her. Your eyes read over her campaign promises and agreed with most of them.

“Hey, are you even listening to me?” You closed and opened your eyes and it took a couple seconds before your vision focused on Peter.

You hadn’t and you didn’t even try.

You coughed, covering your mouth with the inside of your elbow and looked to him while you pulled on your earlobe, “Mhmm.”

He reeled back as if he had been slapped, “Really?” Peter narrowed his eyes at you and the look you could only make out was that he was hurt.

Peter crossed his arms and tilted his head towards you, “You’re lying to me. I thought we didn’t keep secrets from each other.” He motioned the space between you two.

The way his mouth curved through those words made you do double take at Peter. You raised an eyebrow and tilted your chin up, “No I’m not. How would you even know I was lying?”

Peter couldn’t take your stubbornness anymore, he had reached his limit, “How can I not know?! Anytime you grab your ear, you’re lying, I’ve seen you do it so much Y/N. Just tell me what’s really going on with you? And look the ski trip is coming up and we need to be on good terms before that so you-“ You shaking your had made him stop talking.

“Honestly Peter it’s time we just called it yea? This whole fake relationship has gone on for a lot longer than we both thought it would. You can take Jess on the ski trip and we can finally end it.” The words you’d spoken surprised both you and Peter for the same reason but neither you still didn’t know what the other was thinking.

With your head hanging low, you had the perfect view to see Peter’s sneakers take two steps towards you. “I want you to come on the ski trip with me Y/N.” With every inch he stepped in your direction, your nerves started to bubble up and you didn’t know how to deal with these feelings.  

The only way you knew how to was your greatest defense mechanism which was to deflect and hurt the only person who had made you truly happy in these past few weeks. “Peter, this was all fake right? So let’s not make a big deal of it. I want you have to fun with Jess.” And before he could even utter a word, you hastily walked away from him.

It was all fake right? So why did the tears rolling down your cheeks make you feel otherwise?

[firesoulstuff]

Could you please write 1+5 for Captain Canary?

1. Fake relationship

5. Enemies to lovers

Tension

Read on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12378978/chapters/45732691

———————-

There was a time what feels like a lifetime ago when Sara would have very much enjoyed pretending to be Leonard Snart’s wife.

However, that time is long gone.

“I don’t see why we both have to be here.” He grumbles, “Not that I had exactly stellar role models as parents, but I doubt that even yours went to these things together.”

She grits her teeth, even if it is true. Parent-teacher conferences were always handled solely by her mother when she was growing up.

“We’re in hot-water as it is.” She sneers in reminder, “The last thing we need is to give a teacher is something to pick at.”

Yeah, this mission has been complicated to say the least.

It was supposed to be a routine mission to 2004 to capture a gang of fairies, but nothing can ever go routine for them and the two of them ended up together on distraction duty while the rest of the team took after the fairies.

By the time they found them The Waverider was severely damaged and the team had all been turned into children of varying ages.

Gideon, just barely online, had managed to forge some realistic birth and adoption certificates so they could go on with a cover until the Time Bureau hopefully finds them.

They’ve already been busted for not having the “kids” in school, and now that they are enrolled in school all eyes are on them.

Charlie starting fights isn’t helping anything.

“I don’t see why we couldn’t be divorced parents.” Leonard sneers, and ouch. That hurts her, but she isn’t going to give him the satisfaction of that.

“Well if you would like to move off the Waverider that can be arranged.” She sneers back, and he only rolls his eyes.

“Mr. and Mrs. Hunter, sorry to keep you waiting.” Charlie’s teacher says as she comes in from behind them. She’s a short, plump, middle-aged woman with a bright smile who looks happy they at least showed up.

“That’s alright Mrs. Tomkins.” Leonard says, standing to shake her hand and his charm dialed up so high Sara wants to gag. “We understand you’re busy.”

“Oh yes, running paperwork down the principal’s office, how exciting.” She laughs as she gets settled in her seat and Leonard reclaims his. Sara shoots him a near disgusted glare, and while he act like he doesn’t she knows he sees it.

And so does Mrs. Tomkins, great.

“Now,” the older woman says, somewhat uncomfortably, with her hands folded together on top of her desk. “As you two know, I’ve asked you here because I’m worried about Charlie. Did she tell you what happened?”

They glance at each other, nervous. Charlie did tell them, but unfortunately she is currently eight years old and the de-aging magic gave her a voice to match, and with her accent she is nearly impossible to understand these days.

“She did.” Leonard finally answers, “Something about Trevor and calling her a name?”

Mrs. Tomkins nods.

“Yes, and I would like you to know that I have a meeting scheduled with Trevor’s mother tomorrow, he isn’t exactly an angel.” She leaves the “either” unspoken, because they all know Charlie is far from an angel herself.

“That being said.” She continues, “Charlie did escalate the fight rather quickly. I understand she is going through a lot; what with your move and being adopted into a new family, a rather large family from what I understand, and I just think her world may be a little unstable to her right now.”

You have no idea, Sara thinks to herself.

“We understand Charlie’s world is unstable.” She says instead, “We’re all trying to settle in and find our footing.”

“Oh I’m sure.” Mrs. Tomkins says quickly, and more important sincerely, “And I don’t doubt your awareness of it. But it’s been four months since Charlie started here, and this isn’t the first incident. I understand it’s going to take time, but I am worried about her, and I think she might benefit from seeing a counselor.”

Sara’s eyes go wide, and she looks to Leonard, their ill feelings momentarily forgotten and his expression is just as worried as hers.

“Mrs. Tomkins.” Leonard says, recovering first and leaning forward in his chair. 

“First I want to say you’re probably right, I’m sure Charlie would benefit from seeing a counselor. But that being said I was in counseling when I was her age, and while I’m sure it didhelp in the long run I was too young to understand why I was really there, but I was old enough to understand my friends didn’t have to go to that office once a week. Made me feel like a freak.”

For a moment Sara forgets to hate him. She forgets to be irritated by that smooth tone of his voice, the one that says he knows exactly what he’s doing. There’s a truth to his words, as there almost always is with his best lies.

“Now I know every kid is different.” He goes on, “But still, with what she’s been through, I’d rather not take the chance of making Charlie feel that way if I don’t have to. So, in your opinion, is there anything we can do at home that might help her?”

Mrs. Tomkins thinks for a second, during which time Leonard shoots Sara a gloating little smirk, and she has to bite the inside of her lip to turn her snicker into a scowl.

“Well, little things really.” The teacher says, “Tell her you love her; tuck her in at night, both of you if you can, and…” she drawls, her voice just all-so knowing. “If there’s any tension at home try and resolve it as quickly as possible.”

The walk back to the ship is… quiet.

Tense and quiet.

“Just to be clear,” Leonard finally breaks through the silence, and for the first time since he came back his voice is so welcome that Sara actually exhales in relief. “We’re not actually tucking Charlie in at night and telling her we love her, right?”

She wants to laugh, because the notion is ridiculous, but instead her eyes stay ahead and her mouth remains in a firm line.

“I don’t know.” She says, “I can’t tell if this was just Charlie being Charlie or… Charlie getting worse.”

Even if it wasn’t, she will be getting worse. It’s a side effect of the spell, according to the book they found in the library to explain it. While the physical effects of the spell are instantaneous, the mental ones take time. At first those who are affected maintain all their memories from their lives, but due to the stress that the spell puts on the body, if it isn’t reversed quickly the mind will start to accept the new reality as true.

Basically, all their teammates are slowly forgetting who they really are and are beginning to believe their cover story is real.

It’s getting bad too, after four months, and moments of lucidity are growing more and more rare. Sara’s pretty sure Zari is already, officially, mentally fourteen years old again.

“If we send her to counseling-”

“And she has a moment and says something we risk blowing our cover. I know.” She finishes for him, rubbing her temple with the oncoming headache; she’s been doing that a lot lately.

“For the record, she is eight.” He says, and if she didn’t know better she would say he is actually trying to make her feel better. “Do we really think anyone, especially someone who deals with kids every day, is going to take an eight-year-old’s claims about time travel seriously?”

“I’m more worried about them finding the Waverider, since we aren’t actually living that apartment we have the mail being sent to.”

He nods, a tad dejected, and it’s enough to make her smirk.

“So… If we want her to avoid counseling we have to resolve tension?”

He sighs, and at some point they’ve stopped walking. They’re in the woods now, alone, it’ll only be a few more minutes until they’re back at that ship.

“What happened to us?” He asks, “How did me and you, of all people, end up enemies?”

A chill runs down her spin at his words, me and you.

“I don’t know.” She answers, her arms crossed in front of her. “After Ava and I broke up… I thought we might get back to where we were but… It feels like we’ve only gotten worse.”

He nods, his face serious, and then for the first time in months he steps closer to her. Only a hair, but he’s now less than an arm’s distance away, which is something she hadn’t realized she’s missed so much.

“She and I are so different.” He says, “I thought I wasn’t what you wanted anymore.”

That makes sense, a lot of sense actually, but it hurts like a stab in the heart all the same.

“You are different.” She acknowledges, taking her own step closer and looking up at him with a very serious gaze. “But you’re the one I want.”

It’s only because they’re standing so close that she sees the miniscule drop of tension in his shoulders, only for it to return a moment later.

“Are you sure?” He asks and she smirks.

“Yeah?”

“How sure?”

She lets herself chuckle this time, as his eyes are sparkling with mischief, but she’ll play along.

“This sure.”

She brings her hands up to cradle his jaw, and after so many months of wasting time her lips meet his.

[lxveille]

happenstance

woozi x reader

word count: ~ 6900 warnings: swearing, (binge) drinking a/n: university!AU; also if you are living in dorms it is Rude™ to sexile your roommate as regularly/badly as Wonwoo does in this fic so don’t do it !!!

When your roommate goes to spend the night with her boyfriend for the first time, she generously offers her own bed to Wonwoo’s sexiled roommate. Which is how you end up practically living with Jihoon instead of your best friend during midterms week.

Your bed is littered with textbooks and highlighted articles you’d spent more money than you should have printing out at the library. Thursdays are often a night when you end up going out with your roommate, but a few key things have changed this week. First of all, your psychology midterm paper is due on Tuesday and you have about half a page of bullet point notes to show for the research you’ve completed so far. Being behind on coursework has never stopped you from being convinced into bar hopping instead before, though.

So perhaps more of note is the fact that your roommate -- your best friend and the impetus of many of your perhaps questionable decisions -- has officially started dating. Things have changed from her freshman year ‘no-strings-ever’ policy. You’ve met Wonwoo several times. Frankly, you’d been skeptical when Xiening first told you she was going out with some guy from her 300-level literature course. And even more skeptical when she reported that the two of them were taking things slow.

Slow is why tonight, nearly two months after her first date, is the first time she’s disappeared from your shared dorm room to spend the night with Wonwoo.

You ought to be grateful for the peace and quiet afforded by her absence. There’s a reasonable chance of making good headway with your paper like this. Still, the concept your room being tranquil in any sense of the word is bizarre.

When the door opens, you don’t look up from your laptop at first. Instead, you simply ask, “What’d you forget?” Certain in the assumption that it must be your roommate dropping back by again. It wasn’t like it’d be a long walk. Wonwoo happened to live on the floor above yours.

“Uh -- sorry, I might have the wrong room,” comes an unknown, masculine voice.

That gets you to look up pretty quickly.

“Who the hell are you?” you snap. He looks like a deer in headlights, laptop tucked under one arm like he should be on his way to a study room in the library rather than barging into someone else’s dorm room.

“I was looking for someone else’s room,” the stranger rephrases, taking a step backwards to look at the number on your door. “You, uh, don’t know anyone named Xiening,  do you?”

You sit up straighter on your bed, brow raising at the mention of your friend’s name. “Well, you’re a gutsy one, aren’t you?” It feels safe to presume this must be someone she hooked up with prior to Wonwoo. You’ve never known exactly what kind of magic Xiening had, but her one-night-flings always seem to come calling back for more eventually. Though this one doesn’t exactly look like her usually kind of guy. Handsome, you suppose, but with features that are somehow both softer and less friendly than the type she normally gravitates towards.     “She has a boyfriend now,” you tell him matter of factly, “She’s actually in his room now, so -- you’re out of luck.”

He looks at you like you’ve just grown a second head.

“Yeah… I’m aware of that. Wonwoo’s my roommate. She told me to crash in her room because of that.”

“Sorry, what?” You glance at where your phone is sitting beside your laptop. There’s not a single text from her that you’ve missed. And this seems like it should be the kind of thing she would have asked you about before offering up her bed to some guy you didn’t know. At least it was the kind of thing she used to check in with you about -- strange the apparently the policy changes when she’s not coming back to the bed with the individual in question.

“She said her roommate -- or, I guess you, apparently -- would be out tonight.”

“Clearly I’m not.” You gesture at your own self vaguely.

“I can tell.” Somehow he manages to sound like the one who’s had his privacy disrupted despite unequivocally being the intruder in this scenario.

Briefly, you consider storming upstairs to ask Xiening just what exactly she was thinking when she told this guy he could crash here. Except you know exactly what she was thinking. The downside to whole college-roommate setup is that one half can often ends up drawing the short stick whenever the other gets laid.

“You still didn’t answer my question. Who even are you?” Other than Wonwoo’s roommate, you imply.

“Jihoon,” he answers, and where you think he’s going to ask for your name as well, he instead says, “So can I stay here or not?”

“Why don’t you just go out and find someone to take you back to theirs?” you suggest, gaze diverting to one of the marked up case studies littered across your comforter.

“I’m not gonna go find someone to hook up with just because Wonwoo’s sexiling me.”

You flip the page of the article and look over at Jihoon again. “You and I are very different people,” you remark dryly. A part of you hopes it’ll be off putting enough that  he’ll want to sleep anywhere else.

“That’s not an answer,” he replies just as flatly.

“Whatever. Stay if you want, just don’t expect the lights to go out anytime soon,” you tell him, looking back to your computer screen, “I have way too much paper to write.”

That gives Jihoon all the permission he needs to properly come inside the small room. “That’s fine. I have things to work on too.”

With that, he sat down on Xiening’s bed and opened up his own computer. He plugs in headphones, which you take as a confirmation of your already growing suspicion that he might not be much of a talker. You’re thankful for it. At least it means you won’t have any serious distractions to your attempts at productivity.

It is odd though. At least for the first couple of hours, it takes you by surprise ever time you glance over to see Jihoon where you’re used to seeing your best friend. But by the time you’ve written four and a half pages of your midterm -- and it’s well into the early AMs -- the glances go from awkward to feeling like this is completely normal.

It is fascinating how quickly human beings can adjust to small changes at times.

The clock in the corner of your screen reads 4:32 when you finally decide you ought to head to bed if you’re going to be conscious for your afternoon lecture tomorrow. (It’s not as if you haven’t shown up to that particular class feeling like death rolled over. And that has been with more than just a lack of sleep weighing you down.)

It surprises you a bit when you see Jihoon still sitting with his back propped against the wall and attentively working on something on his screen. You shut your own laptop and stretch your back before unfolding your legs and standing up.

“I’m gonna try to get some sleep in,” you announce, heading over to your dresser. Jihoon hums a questioning tone, and you presume he must not have heard you. “I’m gonna want to turn the light off soon,” you speak a little louder, glancing at him from over your shoulder as you pull pajamas out of a drawer. He gives a short nod.

It seems like he doesn’t intend to say anything about it at all until your fingers curl around the hem of your shirt.

“Aren’t you gonna… go to the bathroom or something to change?” he questions. You throw a look his way once more after you’ve already peeled off your top and nearly laugh when you spot a tinge of pink at the tips of his ears, evidently from the sight of you in just leggings and a bra.

“Look, this is still my room. I’m not changing my routines just because you happen to be staying here tonight,” you explain as you pull a large t-shirt you’d gotten for free at some campus event on. “Feel free to not stare, though. That’d be, you know, probably a decent courtesy.”

“I didn’t think you’d just…” He trails off, looking back to his computer like he’s trying to glue his eyes to the work there now.

“I mean, do you stare at Wonwoo when he changes? Or, like, are you the kind of roommates that always change huddled up in the further corner from each other?”  You kid as you switch leggings for loose fitting pajama shorts.

“We don’t actively try to see each other naked,” Jihoon answers, with what you think might be a touch of humor.

“It’s safe, by the way,” you tell him once you’ve slipped your bra off from under your shirt. “Lights off good for you?” You pause by the lightswitch. This might be the first time you’ve asked a guy that question outside the context of sex.

“Yeah, I can work from just my computer’s light.”

“You’re seriously still working?” Disbelief is evident on your voice as you flick the lights off and make your way back to your bed.

“Midterms are coming up,” he reminds you of what you already know. From the light of his screen, you can still make out his features as you settle underneath your blankets.  He looks as weary as you feel.

“You know, the more tired you are when doing important shit, the more likely you are to fuck it up?” You offer him the same sage advice a friend of yours had given you during an all-nighter once before.

“Thanks for the vote of confidence,” he remarks sarcastically, his eyes searching your own out in the dark.

“Reminder: I don’t even know you. If you’re looking for a vote of confidence, I abstain. Hit up Wonwoo instead. I doubt he and Xiening are still at it.”

Jihoon shakes his head and starts typing again. “Goodnight,” he tells you.

“Good luck,” you chime back, rolling over to face the wall as you close your eyes.

You manage to wake up at quarter to noon. Before your lecture at three, you meet up with Xiening for your usual late Friday lunch. She has the distinct glow of someone who’s had good sex with the past twenty-four hours, and she confirms as much over your second cups of watered-down cafeteria coffee.

“I wouldn’t appreciated even like… a head’s up about his roommate, you know,” you bring up as gentle as you can manage.

“I know. I’m so sorry about that whole thing. Honestly, I thought you wouldn’t even be in!” she says, biting into her lower lip with concern.

“Don’t worry too much about it. It turned out okay. Just, uh -- definitely a new way of spending a Thursday night.” You force a small chuckle, and Xiening smiles weakly in return.

“Really, though. When Wonwoo told me earlier that Jihoon mentioned you didn’t seem thrilled by the arrangement, I felt like a total fuck-up,” she carries on, nails tapping nervously on the dining hall table. “I wouldn’t have offered, but I just want Wonwoo’s friends to like me, you know?”

“I told you not to worry,” you insist, blowing onto the still steaming coffee in your cup to cool it before taking a sip. “I’m on your team. Always. If letting Wonwoo’s sleep-deprived roommate borrow your bed is what you want, I’m down, okay?”

Xiening’s head dips forward as she laughs a bit more genuinely. “You’re aware you’re the best, right?”

“Bitch, that’s what I’ve been saying since freshman year. You’re finally on board?”

“Hey! I’ve definitely sung your praises before now! Just ‘cause I’m dating now doesn’t mean I won’t still be your best wingwoman,” she argues, grinning as she points an index finger at you accusingly.

You roll your eyes. “I love you, but you are accidentally the worst wingwoman. Guys gets so excited by the thought you might be approaching them that anyone else is disappointment in comparison.”

“Oh, come on,” she denies, taking her own turn to eyeroll, “You’re a babe. It’s not like you’ve ever struggled to find someone to hook up with in the first place.”

“Mm, related note: I’m gonna need a serious rager night once all our midterms are over. Because I think I’m doomed to stay a hermit until then and I might lose my mind.”

“We will -- promise,” Xiening agrees.

But all your midterms won’t be out of the way for another week. And so that evening, when you hear others on your floor starting to play music in their rooms and spot girls doing smokey eyes in the bathroom, you’re settling back into your room with more work to do.

Xiening sends you a text first this time before Jihoon shows up. It arrives only a few minutes before he does. But you’re grateful not be caught off guard when he opens the door at least.

“Hey, Jihoon,” you greet him as if you’d done it a hundred times before.

“More essays?” he questions. You nod without looking up from the sentence you’re currently typing out.

He settles in without any further exchanges. In a way, it’s nice to have someone else working alongside you, even if you don’t even know what he’s dealing with at all. Still, a bit silent company doesn’t succeeding in helping you stay as focused and energized as you might have preferred.

It’s nearly eleven at night when you groan and collapse back into your pillow in frustration. For the life of you, you swear you’ve written your essay into a conclusion three pages too soon.

“You alright over there?” Jihoon asks, with more amusement in his voice than you expect. You turn your head on your pillow to look at him and give an exaggerated frown.

“I’m dying,” you state, “Like,  the slowest, most boring-as-fuck death.”

“So the paper’s going well, I take it,” he laughs, and you feel half tempted to chuck a pillow at him. Instead, you feel a burst of laughter pass your lips.

“Don’t you need a break by now?” You suggest after a couple of moments, sitting up again, “We could go get coffee or something. Save ourselves from this room.”

“This room’s still a change of scenery for me,” Jihoon points out, shrugging his shoulders.

You glare at him briefly before throwing your head back to look at the ceiling. “You seriously just wanna stay locked up in the room all night?”

“No,” comes his simple answer, “But I don’t want to ruin my GPA either.”

“Fuck, a fifteen minute coffee run is not going to ruin your GPA, okay? Please?”

You’re not sure why you seem to be insisting Jihoon comes with you. It’s not as if this break isn’t something you could take on your own. Perhaps it’s just out of habit, since he’s the one sharing the room at the moment, and this is the sort of thing you’d usually ask of Xiening. Although she takes far less convincing than Jihoon.

The two of you aren’t even out of the building before he admits that he’s stuck in the paper he’s writing, too. You berate him for fronting like he didn’t need a break for a good five minutes of the walk it takes to get from your dorm to the cafe in the student center.

“Will you drop it if I buy your damn coffee?” he asks as you’re pulling open the door to the building.

“Realistically -- no. I basically collect this kind of shit for rainy days,” you joke as he passes inside.

“Well then enjoy buying your own caffeine.”

“Thanks, I totally will!”

He gives you a look that feigns annoyance at your exaggeratedly chipper tone. But there’s just enough of an upwards quirk in his lips that you know he’s in on the jest of it all.

It becomes a regular thing: having Jihoon as essentially your new roommate by the time the sun goes down. Xiening claims she and Wonwoo actually spend a fair amount of time actually doing work on their midterms when they’re spending all this time together. They just enjoy the domestic feel of falling asleep together at the end of it all. By Tuesday, you’ve lost track of how many times you’ve teased her about how she isn’t fooling anyone by claiming the cuddling is all they do.

You don’t mind this new circumstance. You haven’t since Friday night and that humanizing late-night coffee run. Your late nights working on midterms are peppered with conversations, and taking short breaks together to go down to the student center for a restock of coffee or snacks.

Which doesn’t mean the week is any less exhausting. But the unexpected opportunities getting to know Jihoon have made it a considerably less miserable experience than your horrible ratio of hours working to hours sleeping would suggest.

On Thursday, when you finally submit your last midterm paper, you go immediately back to your room after class and collapse into nap that lasts several hours.

When you wake up, Xiening has already left for Wonwoo’s, and Jihoon is immersed in something on his computer.

You yawn while asking, “You’re still not done with midterms?”

He groans out a no that tells you plenty about how he feels about the fact.

“That sucks,” you sympathize, sitting up and stretching arms over your head. Your phone chimes, and you find a long sequences of messages in a group chat of your friends. Enough of you have officially survived midterms week that there’s a night of drinking well underway in planning already.

“You’ll be free of me interrupting your process tonight, at least,” you announce as you look up from your texts.

“Oh?” For a moment, you think Jihoon sounds nearly disappointed.

“Mmm -- gonna go out with some of my friends tonight. So you’ll weirdly actually have the room all to yourself. At least until I come back to crash.” Possibly all night, you suppose, if you end up going home with someone else.

“So Xiening wasn’t being totally unreasonable when she first thought you wouldn’t even be here a week ago,” he remarks.

“She just happened to underestimate that I can be a responsible students. You know, sometimes,” you confirm as you begin looking through potential outfits for the night.

You consider going to the floor’s bathroom to change tonight. It would go against the philosophy you shared with Jihoon the first time you met. Yet somehow trying on different party dresses seems like a different.

In the end, Nayoung ends up talking you into bringing a couple options over to her dorm. Not that you told her about your debate surrounding Jihoon. Rather, you just told her you aren’t sure what to wear. And her insistence that you’re already already missing out on good pregaming with her, Soyee, and Haebin provides a good enough resolution to your dilemma.

So you throw a few favorite dresses into a bag and wish Jihoon good luck on his assignment.

The girls talk you into something form-fitting and royal blue. As well as into taking shots of grapefruit vodka. After the second one, you ask whether or not Xiening is coming tonight.

“One of her professors made the midterm paper due on Sunday,” Soyee explains, pronouncing the day of the week like it was a curse.

“And she didn’t finish it in advance?” you question as you go about filling up the lined up glasses once more.

“It’s a miracle she’s finished any of her papers on time, isn’t it? She’s been at her boyfriend’s basically every night for a week, hasn’t she?” Haebin points out. “I love her but she is seriously borderline too loved up, you know what I mean?”

“I feel bad for Wonwoo’s roommate,” Nayoung cuts in as she helps you redistribute the shots to the small group of you, “He’s basically been kicked out of his room by Xiening.”

“He’s actually been crashing in our room,” you reveal.

“Like, regularly? I know he was there that first night but he’s been there every time?” Nayoung gives you a shocked look.

You nod and add, “He’s there right now, actually.”

The room erupts in a chorus of different opinions on whether or not that classifies as weird or not. You only bother trying to insist it isn’t a few times before requesting:

“Can we just go back to cheersing that midterms are the fuck over?”

That suffices. And with blood already rushing with a decent amount of liquor, the four of you head out for the bars around ten.

The night becomes a blur of bar lights and dancing with your friends sometime after eleven.

Haebin is the first to stop smiling and ask if the lot of you can head back to campus. None of you are belligerent enough insist staying once someone wants otherwise.  So the stumbling walk with arms linked back home begins.

Normally when the group of you go out, you and Xiening separate off from the others when you reach the student center in the middle of campus. Since Soyee, Nayoung and Haebin live in a different building from the two of you, it’s always made since to part ways there so that everyone has the shortest possible walk home.

Reaching the quiet center point now, though, it dawns upon you that Xiening isn’t here to help make sure the both of you make it to your building.

“We’re obviously walking you to your building,” Soyee says when you blurt out at much.

“No! That’s so, so far for you guys!” you exclaim, your voice echoing a bit in the empty, practically abandoned spaces.

“Is like… ten minutes extra,” Nayoung slurs her argument, leaning a bit heavily into your side.

“You’re not walking home alone,” Soyee reiterates, seemingly the least drunk if her enunciation is anything to go off of.   

Haebin lifts one finger and chimes in, “I, you know, might need to use your bathroom but -- yeah.”

So the chain of you continues together uphill to your building. You spend much of those minutes babbling on about how much you adore all three of them.

“You have your keys, yeah?” Soyee checks in when you reach the front door. You shuffle through a few things in your bag before pulling them out as a reply. “Haebin, are you good or do you need to go in for a minute?”

She shakes her head. “I’m good, I’m good! I jus’ wanna go to bed.”

After what might have totaled to two rounds of hugs goodbye, you make your way inside and unsteadily up the stairs to your floor. You don’t bother counting how many times you nearly fall and half-stumble in your heels on the steps.

The door to your room is unlocked when you get there. The lights are still on, and you find yourself laughing without real cause when you see Jihoon is still working on his laptop. He has large headphones on that keep him from truly noticing your arrival until you make your way into the space between the two beds.

“Uh -- are you okay?” he asks when you plop down on the hard tiled floor to pull your shoes off.

“Are you?” you ask back, leaning backwards to look up at him. Tilting your head back so far makes the whole room spin sideways.

“Yeah, I’m alright” Jihoon answers, brow furrowed in a way that didn’t align with his words. “You need a hand there?”

With shoes tossed aside, you push yourself up onto your knees with both hands. Something lurches in your throat, and you think it might have been the last two drinks at the bar that pushed you over the edge. Jihoon doesn’t wait for an answer from you before putting his laptop aside and coming to your side.

His hands steady upon your elbow and shoulder, he helps you stand up entirely and make your way at a sloth’s pace to sit on your own bed.

“Pajamas?” he asks.

You lie down on your bed, legs still dangling off the edge of the mattress. “I just wanna sleep.”

“Yeah, that dress doesn’t look like comfy sleepwear though.” Jihoon tugs lightly on one of your hands to encourage you to sit up again. Your eyes are closed when you nod an agreement.

“Middle drawer,” you tell him as you point lazily towards your dresser. He disappears from your side and you begin fumbling your way out of your dress.

“Okay, geez, I was gonna say you should --” he doesn’t finish his reaction to your state of undress as he shoves a few articles of clothes into your arms a few moments later. “Just put those one.”

You comply and proceed to crawl underneath your blankets. Your bones feel like deadweight, and you think you’re already half-asleep when Jihoon’s voice is back in your ears insisting you drink some water before passing out. You shake your head as much as you can will yourself to do, and feel a hand shake your shoulder in reply.

“You’ll regret it if you don’t,” Jihoon states, flicking at one of your ears. You groan and sit up again, shakily taking your freshly filled water bottle from him.

The water tastes impossible good on your dried out tongue. After a few good gulps you rest the bottle in your lap and look over to where Jihoon is sitting on your bedside. “You’re nice to me,” you say dumbly.

“I’m not mean,” he answers, half-chuckling at your sudden realization.

“Yeah but -- um -- you look like you should be,” you confess. After another desperate sip of water you carry on, “Like one of those grumpy people are fuckers people.”

“If you say so. Didn’t you want to sleep.”

“I do!” you enthuse, nearly dropping the water bottle in the process, “But also wanna let you know you’re, uh, you know the word? Like -- um, like dope but, you know, a more legit word than that.”

“How much did you have to drink?” Jihoon asks, to which all you can manage is a shrug.

If you ramble anything else out to him, your mind doesn’t let you recall in the morning.

But you do thank Jihoon in the morning, despite your pounding head. You’re pretty sure it would be several times worse if it hadn’t been for the water he’d handed you and the ibuprofen he’d left on your bedside table for you find when you woke up.

He’s still lying in Xiening’s bed, looking at you sleepily as you sit cross-legged at the foot of the bed. “Seriously, you were way nicer to me last night than you needed to be,” you maintain. “You were still working when I came back, weren’t you?”

Jihoon nods without lifting his head from the pillow.

“Trust me, I know how annoying of a messy bitch I can be when I’m drunk. I’m sorry you had to deal with it.”

“You’re not a bitch,” he murmurs into the blankets.

“Thanks? I mean -- I don’t really use it in the, like, bitch-bitch way. But I guess I’m glad you don’t actually think I am one.”

Jihoon hums something sleepily. Your hand pats lightly at one of his legs through the blankets. “I’m buying you brunch today, by the way. So let me know when you want to go.”

“Huh?” He half sits up at that, head of messy hair tilted to one side as you stand up.

“Brunch. You know, coffee and whatever the hell you want to eat? I owe you for not letting me pass out on the floor last night.”

The offer of free food makes Jihoon get out of bed much sooner than it seemed like he would.  

You take him to your favorite place to get weekend brunch, and express no shortage of dismay when he says he’s never been here before. His only answer for you is that he and his friends aren’t exactly the brunch kind of people.

“So what is this miserable midterm you’re still somehow working on?” you ask him around the time you’re both half-way through your meals. “It must be due today, right? This is technically the last day of midterm week.”

He shakes his head as he finishes chewing a bite. “It’s an original composition for one of my music courses. The professor made it due next Wednesday because of the creative aspect.”

“How’s it going?”

“You already hit the nail on the head with ‘miserable.’”

It’s not until later in the day, when your hangover is long gone, that you decide have a solution to Jihoon creative block.

When you come back to your room from dinner with Soyee, Jihoon is taken off guard when you announce, “Good! You’re already here.”

“Yeah… Wonwoo and Xiening are watching some movie in our room. Didn’t really feel like being there when they go from netflix to chill.”

“I was thinking, and you should go out tonight.”

“Is this a subtle way of telling me you have some guy coming over?” Jihoon questions, though he refuses to look your way as he does so.

“Nope! I’m gonna go out with you,” you explain, sitting down beside him on Xiening’s bed. As per your suspicions, he has the composing software open on his screen.

“I can’t go out,” he refuses, “I still have so much of this to rework before I can even finish it.”

“I know, that’s why you need to go out!” You jostle his shoulder with your own to punctuate your point. “You’re all in your head about it. And, look, it’s not due until Wednesday, right? So you still have plenty of time to sort it out after you take a night to clear your head.”

“Can’t risk it,” he says, and goes to lift his headphone back up over his ears.

“Hey, wait!” You reach out and place a hand on his wrist. “You think Mozart composed his operas by staying cooped up inside some tiny room all day and night?”

“Uh–” He begins, but you don’t let him get a word in before you’re carrying on.

“He didn’t. Mozart fucking killed it at billiards and partied hard, okay?”

“That just doesn’t sound true,” Jihoon says pointedly, shaking his head at you. You let go of his wrist and stand up, placing your hand on your hip.

“What? A bitch can’t know her history of classical composers?” you challenge, feigning more offense than you really feel. “Get up, Wolfgang. We’re going out.”

“You’re not gonna drop this, are you?”

“If you don’t feel re-upped on inspiration after taking a night off, I’ll write a four-page apology to your professor myself.”

“Like that’d change anything?”

“I mean, if he’s a sixty-year-old musician he’s probably a sucker for the story of temptress bitches and liquor distracting musical geniuses from their callings.”

“That’s… the grossest thing you’ve said on so many levels.”

“Yeah, I know,” you concur, nodding deeply, “So are you coming or not?”

“One drink.”

No one in the history of the college drinking has ever successfully kept a promise of ‘just one drink’

So three drinks later, you and Jihoon are dancing in a dark corner of a dive bar to an Earth, Wind & Fire track. The bass might as well be moving your feet for you as you sing-shout lyrics at Jihoon, grabbing one his hands in your own as if you’d written the words ‘say that you remember’ yourself and just for him.

It’s not clear if the flush across his face is from alcohol or embarrassment at your antics. Or something else, as he ducks is head from your view with a laugh you only just hear over the speakers blasting music.

It’s just past midnight when the two of come tumbling out of the bar hand-in-hand. You’re not sure exactly how it happened, unless it’s somehow just the case that neither one of you let go once you’d taken it while dancing.

“So why do you know about Mozart’s past times?” he finally asks as your ears adjust the contrasting quiet of the street.

“Like, half my friends are music majors,” you tell him with a laugh, “Soyee just wrote a midterm paper about how he wrote a shitton of dirty songs for his friends, or something.”

“You’re a good friend,” he comments, and you glance up from your careful steps on the sidewalk to give him a puzzled look at the sudden observation. He averts his gaze from yours just as soon as you make eye contact. “I mean, listening to your friends go on about their academic stuff and actually retaining it.”

“Mmm, and letting their boyfriends’ roommates basically switch rooms.” You grin a bit wider when he laughs.

“Never thought getting regularly sexiled would be a mixed blessing, true.” Your joint hands swing back and forth at a steady rhythm between the two of you.

“Now wait -- am I the blessing or the mixed part of that?” you tease as you come to a stop at a crosswalk. Headlights from passing cars in both directions illuminate Jihoon’s face as he looks back to you.

“It’s not obvious?” He speaks lower that you’re anticipating. The words would sound begrudging if not for the tinges of pink still coloring his features. Your smile twists into an inquisitive one, and your fingers lace a little tighter against his own.

You glance up at the traffic light. From this angle, you can still make out the shift from green to yellow. Before the oncoming traffic is brought to a stop to leave time for you both to cross, you lean in to press your lips to Jihoon’s.

His fingertips press into your knuckles with the surprise of it before he kisses you back. It’s a slow, exploratory kind of kiss. The taste of lingering vodka on his tongue doesn’t bother you, but when your chest bumps against his own, you realize this might not be the best place to have a make out session.

“You’re coming back to my room, right?” you nearly whisper when you pull your mouth away from his. Looking over your features with a dazed adoration, Jihoon only nods in reply.

He kisses you again in the stairwell of your building. As if it had only just fully registered that you’d expressed interest in him, he pulls you close to him and kisses you with an urgency that feels akin to disbelief. Your small giggles cut the second kiss short, and Jihoon grins with his arms around your waist. “You’re cute,” he confesses, lips skimming against the skin of your jaw.

“Come on,” you say, nudging his leg with your knee, “One more flight of steps.”

One more flight brings you to your hallway, and then to your door. But a muffled sound of crying steals your lusty smile from your face when you go to unlock it. When you open the door, both you and Jihoon frown at the sight of Xiening in tears on her bed.

You abandon Jihoon in doorway to rush to her side. “What happened?” you ask her, pulling her into a hug with all thoughts of getting laid gone from your mind.

“Wonwoo --” she chokes out through a sob as she buries her weepy face in your shoulder, “We fought!”

“What? Do you wanna tell me about it?” you continue, rubbing circles into your friend’s back. You glance back over your shoulder to the door and mouth at Jihoon to leave.

He looks dumbfounded, but he nods and closes the door before he goes.

In the morning, Xiening’s eyes are still puffy from tears. It had been a small thing, of course, that had felt like a world-shattering fight just by being the first time they disagreed. Haebin is the one to successfully convince her to go talk things out with Wonwoo.

You text Jihoon about half an hour after Xiening leaves to do just that, asking if the two of you could meet up to talk. He answers that he’s in the library, finishing up his composition midterm.

You find him on the first floor, and you’re glad he hasn’t tucked himself away in one of the silent study areas of the library. You collapse into the empty chair beside where he’s working and ask if Wonwoo told him anything about the argument.

At that question, Jihoon attention shifts from you back to his screen. He tells you doesn’t know anything about it.

“What do you mean you don’t know? Didn’t you talk to him about it at all?”

“He didn’t want to talk about it,” Jihoon answers too simply.

You roll your eyes. “You’re no help at all.”

He shrugs and continues entering notes on the score in front of him. You shift in your seat, wondering why the air feels so thick between the two of you this afternoon. Jihoon spares you a few glances as he continues composing before suddenly admitting, “When you said you wanted to talk I didn’t think it was about our roommates’ relationship.”

“We came back last night to find my best friend crying. What else would I want to talk about?”

“Nothing,” he says after a moment, looking back to the program in front of him, “I hope they sort things out.”

They do. But Jihoon stops crashing on Xiening’s bed.

You’re not certain what changed. Or rather, you’re not sure what changed between the two of you kissing and him suddenly deciding to avoid you. You go as far as asking Xiening where Jihoon is spending nights now, but she doesn’t know.

Actually reaching out to Jihoon feels like a step too far. After all, the two of you aren’t actually roommates. It’s none of your business if he’s found somewhere else to go on the nights his room is otherwise occupied by Wonwoo and Xiening.  

A week goes by without more than a text from Jihoon. You’d asked, on Tuesday night, if he was in a good place with his piece. His reply had only read yeah.

You’re not happy with the new distance. Which may be partly responsible for the eagerness in your acceptance when Xiening asks if you want to go out tonight.  

Hitting up your favorite bar with her succeeds in getting Jihoon off your mind. At least until Xiening announces that Wonwoo is going to drop by to hang out for a bit.

“Cool,” you tell her, “I feel like I haven’t actually seen him in ages.”

It’s considerably less cool when he shows up with Jihoon in tow.

“How’d your last midterm turn out?” you ask him somewhat hesitantly. Wonwoo and Xiening might as well have left the two of you alone with the way they slip into their own conversation as soon as they’re reunited at the table.

“I’m happy with it,” Jihoon answers with a succinct nod. At least it’s more than a one-word response.

You look down into the mixed drink in your glass. The low lights of the bar reflect in the dark liquid, and you listen in briefly to the couple laughing together just to your right.

“Your plan worked after all. The -- uh -- the getting out of my head thing. It did end up making it easier when I came back to the composition,” Jihoon continues just when you think the lack of conversation between you two will officially settle into awkwardness. “So, thanks.”

“I’m glad it did.” You smile faintly as you bring yourself to look at him once more. “Even if it ended up being kind of a crazy night.” Your eyes indicate towards Xiening and Wonwooo, and Jihoon lets out a sigh that almost tries to be laughter.

“I guess so.”

He’s the one avoiding looking at you now. You glance once more towards the chattering lovebirds before leaning forward a bit in your seat to reduce the space between you and Jihoon. You press your tongue to the roof of your mouth, debating for a moment if you might be overthinking and making one too many assumptions.

Impulse wins out, and you half-mutter, “You weren’t the crazy part of that night, you know?”

You lower your eyes to the scuffed up tabletop between you for a moment before checking to see if that brought Jihoon’s attention back to you. It is, but he looks for a loss of words. Still, there’s fondness that you recognize in his eyes from when his hands had been pressed to your sides.

“It’s been kinda lonely in the room without you or Xiening there,” you go on, biting lightly on your lip when you offer a tentative smile.

Jihoon does the same double-check as you had that your respective roommates are still too caught up in each other to notice your own discussion. “You were the one who acted like nothing happened at all.”

“I was worried about Xiening.” You worry the truth might not seem solid enough an excuse to Jihoon, but you stick to it nevertheless. “It also wouldn’t have been… great timing if they were about it break up.”

“But they didn’t,” he utters simply, giving a fleeting look their way before focusing in on your face again.

“No, they did not,” you reconfirm, shaking your head slowly. “So…”

“So I’m glad Wonwoo talked me into this.”

You wonder if this is just coming for drinks tonight or the decision to take up Xiening’s offered bed in the first place.  

By the end of the night you’re convinced it’s probably both, because Jihoon isn’t crashing on Xiening’s bed anymore. He’s sleeping in yours.

[princessofthedarkrealm]

Stroke of Midnight- Chapter 25 (Pennywise x reader) ~ FINALE

It had been a week since you’d seen Pennywise. All that time, you had gone about your daily routine, your heart not into anything you did. Two days after your last talk with Roman, a woman had come on the news saying that Chris’s body had been found in his parent’s cabin. Another family torn apart by Pennywise. This one by me and Pennywise, you reminded yourself. Every time you thought of that day, your heart would clench in your chest.

You were sitting at the desk cataloguing some magazines when you got the phone call that would completely shatter your world 

“Good morning, Derry Public Library, this is Y/N.”

“Y/N, this is your mom.”

Sarah was crying

“Mom! What’s wrong?”

“It’s your brother…he’s missing.”

You felt like you had been punched in your gut.

“What? What do you mean missing?”

“I left him in his crib for just a few minutes. And when I came back…” She sobbed some more. “Oh Y/N, the window was open. He wasn’t anywhere. I looked. Someone stole your brother. They stole Toby!” Sara started wailing.

You banged the phone back down on the hook and grabbed your keys. To hell with your job. You knew exactly who had taken your brother.

And there was no way Pennywise was going to get away with it.

You got to the Denbroughs in record time. You didn’t even bother to knock on the door. This was your family. Uncle Zach was on the phone when you came rushing in. Aunt Susan was standing next to him. She was crying.

You froze in your tracks. “Aunt Susan?”

“Y/N?” She came to you and put her arms around you. You hugged her back.

“Shh. It’s gonna be okay. He’s gonna be okay. We’ll find him.”

“Oh, Y/N. He just vanished. We don’t know where he went. One minute he was out playing in the back yard, and the next he was gone.”

You narrowed your eyes and slowly pulled away from her. “Wait…Toby was in his crib. That’s what mom told me.”

“T-Toby? He’s missing too?”

You felt like a pick of ice had stabbed your heart. “Too? Who else is missing?”

“It’s Georgie.”

You whirled around and saw Bill standing there. “Someone t-took Georgie.”

You felt lightheaded all of a sudden. Toby and Georgie. Pennywise had taken them both. But why? You could understand him wanting to get back at Bill, but he had sworn to you that he would never hurt anything that was a part of you. So what changed? Unless he didn’t want to hurt Toby. So then why take him? You grabbed a chair from the table with shaky hands. You had to sit down. You felt like the room was starting to spin and you couldn’t quite catch your breath.

You glanced up at Bill. The look of worry and sadness on his face tore at your heart. You felt so lost. So helpless. You needed to go outside so you could breathe. You gestured towards the front door and stood. Bill went with you.

“You don’t think P-Pennywise would hurt them, do you?” Bill asked once the two of you were on the porch.

“I don’t know.” Your voice sounded hollow in your ears. “I don’t see what that would accomplice. And why Toby? I told him I needed some space and he said he would give it to me. It’s only been a week.”

You pushed your hair back from your face.

“We need to stop him, Y/N. We need to s-stop Pennywise,” Bill said desperately.

“I know, Bill,” you said through gritted teeth. You went to stand by the porch railing. “I just don’t know what to do. I never thought I would have to deal with something like this.”

“W-we should get everyone together. Richie, Eddie, everyone.”

You spread your hands out. “And do what?”

“Find a way to stop Pennywise.”

You felt like you were standing there watching yourself. It was the only way you could cope with this. You had been telling yourself for over a week now that something needed to change concerning Pennywise, but the less time you had spent with him, the less conviction you were beginning to feel. If only you could get him alone without the rest of the Losers. Try to talk some sense into him. And then what? you asked yourself. How many more centuries is he going to do this? How many more families is he going to destroy?

You took a deep breath. Bill was standing there staring up at you expectantly.

“Fine. Get everyone together. We can meet at the park. And we’ll go from there.”

Bill ran back into the house. And you went out to your car. You felt like you were Joan of Arc going to face your own Armageddon.

**********

A half hour later, you were sitting on a picnic table stuffing your face with french fries. You didn’t know what you were about to be getting yourself into or how long it would be before you could eat again. You sighed as you thought of poor Toby and Georgie. Pennywise had to be keeping them in his lair. Or at least in the Neibolt house.

You were almost done when Bill and his friends finally showed up. You swallowed the knot that had suddenly formed in your throat. You hadn’t really seen them all together since they had come to visit you at the library. Of course Bill and Richie would have told them everything by now. You took a deep breath as they rode their bikes up to you. Time to face the music.

“The cavalry has arrived, my lady,” Richie announced as they came up to the bench. They dismounted their bikes.

You smiled. Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad after all. And maybe my husband isn’t really a demonic alien clown, you thought snidely.

Ben smiled at you shyly. “Hey, Y/N,” he said as he took off his backpack and placed it on the table.

“Hey, bud.” Ben really was a cutie, she thought. With his sweet eyes and squishy cheeks.

This is what you’re fighting for, you reminded yourself as Ben started taking some papers out of his backpack.

“Chris brought us these,” he said. “They show different monsters and what they’re allergic to.”

Your heart started pounding again and you found you were having trouble breathing.

Just take it slow. You can do this, you told yourself. Don’t wimp out on them now.

Ben held the pages out to you. You took them with a shaky hand.

“We thought you could h-help to better figure out what his w-weaknesses are,” said Bill.

You mean besides me, you wanted to say. But of course you didn’t.

“Well we all know that werewolves are allergic to silver and with vampires, it’s holy water and garlic. And sunlight. Fairies are allergic to iron as well.” You rifled through the copied pages. There weren’t many of them. “To me the thing that would make sense the most would be holy water.”

Richie threw his hands up in the air. “So we find us some holy water.”

“Yeah, but where?” Bev asked. “I’m sure you can’t just go buy that at the store.”

Everyone glanced at Stan.

“Jews don’t do holy water,” he said.

“But you’re the son of a fucking rabbi. That’s got to count for something,” Eddie exclaimed.

“What about a church?” you said.

“Great. Now we just need to buy guns and rob a church,” said Richie.

You rolled your eyes. “No, Richie. I meant we go in there and take some. We would have to fill something up.”

“And do what? Baptize the fucking clown?” Eddie added.

You moaned. “No, Eddie.”

“Guys, let’s be serious,” said Bev.

You could have hugged her.

“What do you suggest, Y/N?” Mike asked.

“We get some squirt guns. We’ll have to bring something to the church with us to fill them up. That way we can do it quickly and we can…bring it back to my place…”

You couldn’t continue. You were conspiring to kill your husband. Is this what had really become of you and Pennywise? You saw him in your mind’s eye, the sweet supportive clown that you had come to know and love. You sat down slowly on the bench as tears swam before your vision. You blinked them away then glanced up at the group of kids standing before you, and what you saw broke your heart even more, if that was even possible. There was no judgement. Just grief and understanding.

“I know what you all must think of me,” you said softly. “But you need to understand. The Pennywise that I know…that I loved… that I still love, is so much more different than what you have all experienced.” A stray tear fell. You couldn’t stop it. “But I want you all to know that I will fight. I will make this right. Even if it kills me.”

To your surprise, Bev gave you a hug. You put your arm around her.

“I can’t even imagine what you’re going through, Y/N,” Mike spoke up. “Especially with your baby on the way. But we’re here for you. All of us.”

Stan and Bill nodded in agreement, and to your surprise, so did Richie.

“Does anybody have any squirt guns?”

The whole group turned to Ben, staring at him as if he had just grown a second head.

He shrugged. “Just asking.”

“No, that’s a good question.” You stood. “’Cause if no one does, we’re gonna have to buy some. And I don’t have any money on me.”

“We can meet you at the c-church if you wanna buy some,” Bill suggested.

“Yeah.”

“That’ll work.”

You glanced around at the group. You all had a plan now. “I’ll get some squirt guns. The rest of you get some containers. I don’t care if it’s a canteen, a pitcher, anything. Meet up at the church, and then we’ll go from there.”

Everyone hopped on their bikes. You started to take off for your car when you saw it. A single red balloon floating off in the near distance. You watched it for a few seconds and then it popped. You glanced around nervously.

Pennywise knew. And apparently he was not happy about it.

**********

You stared up at the Neibolt house, your heart feeling like it was literally shaking in your chest. The Losers had showed up at your house with their containers of holy water. You had put the plug in your bathroom sink and filled it up, then loaded up the squirt guns you had just bought. You had felt like you were about to be having a squirt gun fight with Georgie and Bill.

And that was exactly what you were about to do now. Except the fight was real this time. And it was for Georgie and Toby’s lives. Mike had brought his bolt gun that he used on sheep. Bill was knelt on the ground rigging up a rusted spike that had broken off of the fence. You glanced around the yard. Yellow sunflowers stood out like miniature suns amongst the tall dead grass. It was like they were the souls of all the dead children saying do this for us, Y/N. It lifted your spirits. Just a bit.

Your group made your way one by one inside. You were shaking so badly, you wouldn’t be surprised if the others could see.  And then finally you came upon it.

The well.

Of course Richie had to speak up first.

“So who wants to go say hi to the nice evil clown first?” No one said anything. ���Well let’s not all volunteer at once.”

You started to open your mouth, but Bill stepped in.

“I’ll go first.”

He and Mike found the rope and rigged it up so that you all could climb down. Down they all went, one by one, Mike assisting them. Finally it was just you and Mike. Your gaze met his.

“I guess I’ll go next,” you said quietly.

You went up to the well and stared down. You froze. Did he know you were there? And that you were about to betray him?

You heard a loud sound right next to you and whirled around. Your mouth fell open in shock. Mike was on the floor. And there was someone standing next to him.

You had only a split second to react before Henry Bowers came at you next. You landed on your back on the hard floor. The wind was knocked out of you. He was on top of you, learing down at you. His face was covered in blood and his eyes were wide and crazed. A wide, maniacal smile was on his face.

“Here we are again, bookworm,” he sneered. You tried to fight against him, but he had you pinned down. “I guess you’re gonna get it this time, aren’t you?”

Bowers reached out and squeezed your breast hard. You cried out. Your head went to the side and you saw something. The bolt gun was lying on the floor. You reached out for it. Luckily Bowers was too busy fondling you to notice.

“Do you have any idea what I’m going to do to you? And how long I’ve been wanting to do it.”

“Bowers, let her go,” Mike said as he tried to sit up.

You got your fingers around the gun and yanked it up. Bower’s hand shot out and grabbed your arm 

“Now, now is that anyway to play fair?”

“Get off of me, you mullet wearing freak!”

Bowers laughed and brought his face down to yours. And that was when the smell hit you. You inhaled.

“Ahh,” you moaned.

“Now you’re starting to get the idea,” Bowers said, thinking that it was what he was doing to you that was turning you on.

You felt a surge of adrenaline pump through you. You wanted his blood. Of course you wanted his blood. You were Pennywise’s mate. And now it was time you started acting like it.

You tried to bring up the hand that held the gun. You had to strain. Bowers strained against you. You fought to find your inner strength. Bower’s eyes grew wide as your arm started coming up. You could tell he was fighting with all his might. But now so were you.

You were Pennywise’s mate.

You brought the gun up and got your hand around the trigger. You pointed it against Henry’s other shoulder. And fired.

Bowers screeched and grabbed his shoulder with his other hand. He let his weight come off of you and you pushed him off. Bowers stood up and stumbled back. You stood up also. Bowers was against the well now.

“A girl. You’re just a stupid fucking girl,” Bowers said through grit teeth.

“No. I’m not…I am the mate of Pennywise.”

You cried out and ran at Bowers. You pushed him with all your might and he went over, right down the well. You heard him bounce off the walls on the way down.

You stood there panting and shaking. You were stronger than you realized. You glanced over at Mike. He stood there watching you. After a minute he finally stepped closer to you.

“Your eyes,” he said.

You knew exactly what he was talking about.

“You’re becoming like him, aren’t you?”

You bent down and picked up the bolt gun. You had dropped it when you had run at Bowers.

“I’m here now, aren’t I?”

You handed the gun to Mike. The two of you descended. When you got to the bottom you heard screaming. You ran down the tunnel towards the source of the sound. Stan was sitting on the ground. He had what appeared to be bite marks all over his face. The rest of the Losers were crowded around him.

“YOU LEFT ME! YOU SAID YOU WOULDN’T LEAVE ME, BUT YOU LEFT ME!”

That was all you needed to see. You ran down the tunnel and didn’t stop until you got to the lair. It was exactly as you had remembered it. The trash mountain. The floating bodies. You strained your ears and then you heard something. The sound of crying.

The sound of a toddler crying.

You followed the sound. And then you saw them. Toby was sitting next to the trash mountain crying. Georgie was sitting next to him with his knees pulled up to his chest. You took off for them but a large white shape jumped in front of you.

You stopped in your tracks.

“I knew you would come home eventually, my dear. Do you like your gifts?”

Pennywise’s face was lit up in a huge grin. Georgie saw you.

“Y/N!” he cried.

He tried to run to you, but Pennywise grabbed him.

“No!” you yelled. “Pennywise, let him go!”

“I thought nothing could come between us, my dear. Looks like I was wrong.”

You heard the others come running in behind you.

“Pennywise! Let my b-brother go!” Bill yelled.

“And you’ve brought your little friends, I see,” said Pennywise.

“Pennywise, it doesn’t have to be like this,” you said. “You can let them go. You can let them both go. You gave me what I wanted. Space. And it helped. I know what I want now. You. That’s all I want is you!”

“And you needed to bring your little friends to help you see that?” Pennywise let out a dark chuckle.

“Billy, please help,” Georgie pleaded.

Toby started wailing. You wanted to scream, yourself. You tried going with a softer approach.

“You made your point, Penny. You did. You are very capable of handling being with a baby. So we can raise ours. Together. Isn’t that what you want?” “Y/N, please,” Georgie pleaded. The Losers all stood there with their squirt guns raised. Bill held the bolt gun in his hand. Pennywise laughed. “Look at all your little toys. You think you’ll be able to stop me with that?” “I can stop you. And I will. Right now.” Bill raised his gun. “Shoot him, Bill! Shoot him!” the others yelled. “It’s not loaded,” Mike said. “It’s not loaded!” Bill fired. A blast of air shot Pennywise in the forehead. Pennywise started making a garbled noise and shaking. Georgie squirmed out of his grasp and ran to you. Pennywise shook a bit more then stopped and grinned. “Holy shit,” said Stan.

“Now what?” said Richie. “Fire! Fire now!” Eddie yelled. Pennywise ran at Bill. Five squirt guns went off. Pennywise stopped in his tracks and started flailing his body as holy water hit him in the face and torso.

You put your own hands up to your face and hollered. Your face was burning. Pennywise went down into a crouch.

The Losers attacked.

Richie jumped on Pennywise’s back, but the clown flipped him over. The rest of the Losers started dog piling him and hitting him, but he kept throwing them off. Finally he got a hold of Bill and grabbed him by the throat

You threw your hand out. “No!” The entire group stopped. You now realized that you had all made one giant mistake. You might have had enough holy water to finish him off, but there was just one problem— it had mostly hit his costume. But it had affected him somewhat. That much you were certain of. Some of Pennywise’s paint had run down his face, reveling the pale, pink, tender flesh beneath. Your own face was burning. You could only imagine what Pennywise’s felt like. “I’ll take him. I’ll take all of you,” Pennywise said. He held up a shaky finger. “Or I can just take her. My mate. She will sleep by my side and stay with me for eternity while all the rest of you go on to live happy lives until old age returns you to the weeds.” “Just go. He can have me,” Bill called out. “I’m sorry I got you all into this.” “S-sorry,” Pennywise said with a mocking laugh.

You stood there. Like the coward you were, you just stood there. All you had to do was say yes. You had gotten Georgie and Toby out of the way, but now another member of your family was in jeopardy. “You’re right, Bill. You’re absolutely fucking right,” said Richie. “You punched me in the face, you made me walk through shitty water, and brought me into some crackhead house. And now,” he grabbed a baseball bat off the mountain of junk, “I’m going to have to kill this fucking clown. WELCOME TO THE LOSER’S CLUB, ASSHOLE!!” Richie swung at Pennywise. The bat connected with his head and the clown fell back, releasing Bill in the process. You felt a jolt of pain in your forehead. Pennywise came back, but Mike came at him this time with a crowbar. A multitude of burnt arms came out of Pennywise’s mouth and grabbed the crowbar. That was your chance. You ran for Georgie and Toby. At least you could get the little boys out. You were halfway to them when you doubled over with a pain in your abdomen. You couldn’t catch your breath. Behind you, your mate was being impaled through the abdomen. Pennywise roared as his blood flew upward into the air. You fell to your knees. Pennywise pulled the spike out of himself, but they hit him over and over. You felt a pain in your back and put a hand to the back of your head as if you had just gotten the blow there yourself. You didn’t know what kind of damage they were doing to Pennywise, but they were killing you. That much you were certain of. And you weren’t ready to die. You crawled over to your group. Tears stung your eyes, you were in such pain. You saw another bat. A metal one. You grabbed it. Pennywise was on his knees. His face changed into a man you’d never seen before. Now was your chance. The chance to save yourself.

You weren’t ready to die.

With one last ounce of strength, you hoisted yourself to your feet. Bev raised a metal spike with a yell. You swung the bat.

Metal struck against metal. Bev stared at you in shock. Tears were streaming down your face.

“I won’t let you kill us.”

Behind you, Pennywise was crawling backwards. He backed up against a large hole that you hadn’t seen before. The Losers all followed him. You lowered your bat.

“We’re not afraid of you anymore, and you know that now,” Bill told him. “And now you’re going to starve.”

Pennywise scowled up at Bill.

“You think this is over, puny boy? I will return. And your whole world will quiver beneath me.”

“Not today,” said Mike.

Pennywise hoisted himself over the edge of the hole, but held on the ledge. Your eyes met his as you wept. He really was leaving. Going into hibernation. You mentally told him goodbye and turned away. You couldn’t watch this.

You had taken two steps when you felt something jerk your ankle. You fell flat on your stomach. Once again the air was knocked out of you. Something started dragging you. You tried to grab at something. Anything. You screamed, but it was just not use. You felt yourself go airborn.

And then you fell into darkness.

!     !

!     !

!     !

{Epilogue}

You woke up. Your entire body was one giant ache. You were lying on something hard and rough. A cold wind buffeted your body. You saw stars ahead of you. You must have been outside somewhere. Someone leaned over you. You gasped and then tried to speak, but no sound came out.

“Shhh,” he said. “You can rest now.”

The man passed his hand over you and all your aches slowly left your body. You stared up at him as your mind cleared a bit. In the moonlight, you could see that he had short blond, slicked back hair.

“Where am I?” you asked.

“It doesn’t matter. You’re safe now. Sleep,” he said in a silky voice.

You fell asleep.

The man passed his hand over you again.

“Yes, you are a powerful one, aren’t you?” he said to your sleeping form. “You’ll be fine right here. He’ll find you soon enough. You and I will meet again. Not that you’ll remember me.”

He placed his hand on your forehead.

“Yes. We will meet soon enough.”

With that, the Man in Black stood and walked off, disappearing into the desert night.

                                    To be continued....

@hoe-for-daddywise  @ravishmeclownboi  @penny-trash  @lesteefightme  @honk-honk-bitches  @smileysam13579  @messoria109  @ichigokage  @bubblymusiclover13  @leauvel  @skaravile  @syynnaah  @dallonweaksme  @darkandtwistyxox  @animelover130901  @xxcircus-babyxx  @book-wyrm-snacks  @theloriequeen @rougxlips  @floatingwithpennywise  @booklover2929@bill-istvan  @unidash @daddywiseskarsgard  @dirtydaddywiseslut  @moonlighthope7  @apileofhappytrash  @allkundsofwrong @hunterplushy  @nychowise-hl  @jeanethclaton18

[duskfloret]

Freedom to love should never be questioned.

↳ The Blythe Saga, part 4 / ?

Blythe spent a good hour complaining about how Theon never told her he had such a cute little sister. Theon listened as he ate breakfast the Monday after they spent the weekend at his house. He couldn’t say there was a definite reason aside from maybe the fact that she’d never asked about his family aside from questions about his mom. Instead of explaining, he just nodded along and he agreed that any good older brother would brag about having such a cute little sister.

“If you want to see her again,” he interjected after awhile, “you can come over this weekend.”

“Oh.” Blythe shifted in her seat and looked down at her empty plate, fiddling with her spoon. “I’d love to, but I have plans. Can I take a rain check?”

He nodded. “Of course. Just let me know.”

Theon didn’t understand Jackson. They’d developed a sort of friendship after failing to cook dinner one night--though he still shuddered at the memory of inhaling smoke--and talked to each other on a fairly regular basis, but when Jackson asked about Blythe, Theon failed to see the point he was trying to make.

“I’m tutoring her in math,” he explained for what was surely the fifth time. He failed to mention that she was tutoring him too, simply because he didn’t want to explain why. “It’s not that interesting.”

“For just tutoring her, you guys spend a lot of time together.”

He shrugged. “Well, we’re friends, too. Why?”

Jackson shrugged too, and then they passed by his door and parted ways, and Theon wondered if maybe his and Blythe’s mutual friends were reading too far into their relationship.

Busy with papers and studying, he and Blythe didn’t see each other much for the rest of the week. The weekend passed, as uneventful as a couple days spent with his cousin could possibly be, and they saw each other for breakfast again on Monday. While she presented the cafeteria staff with a warm smile, it seemed hollower when they sat down to each.

“Are you okay?” he asked. He’d expected to hear about her weekend, as she always informed him of anything she did, but she had yet to mention it despite saying earlier that she’d had plans.

She looked up, blinked. “Oh, yeah, fine. Sorry, I’m just a little distracted. You were saying?”

At the apology, he raised an eyebrow. Now that was unlike her. “It’s fine.” He opened his mouth to continue but hesitated for a moment before deciding to go for it. “I don’t want to pry, but if something’s bothering you and you want to talk about it, I don’t mind listening.”

“You’re sweet.” Blythe smiled at him, and though small, he could tell it was genuine. “It’s... nothing worth making a big deal about. But I appreciate the offer, Theon. Thank you.”

Theon knew that was a lie: if it wasn’t a big deal, she wouldn’t be upset about it. If she didn’t feel comfortable talking to her about it, however, he wouldn’t press the issue. Instead, he changed the subject to how Pyrrha dragged him around for hours looking for stray cats to pet, and he hoped that the distraction helped her feel better.

Blythe had, for once, been indulging her negative impulses by lying on her bed and staring up at the ceiling with eyes full of existential dread when she heard a knock at her door. With a shout of, “Coming!” she sat up, stretched, and stood to go answer the door. Though she hadn’t expected company to begin with, she certainly didn’t expect to see Theon. “Oh--hey. What’s up?”

He held out a bag to her, and when she raised an eyebrow, he explained, “It’s butter pecan.”

That was all he had to say for her to snatch the bag from him and look inside to see a small tub of ice cream and a plastic fork. Without thinking, she stepped forward and wrapped her arms around him, burying her face into his shirt. He stiffened, then relaxed and returned the hug.

“You should eat that before it melts,” he said after a minute. She pulled back with a sheepish smile before she blinked in surprise as he lifted a hand and brushed a finger across her cheekbone, just below her eye. Her face heated up, first at the unexpected contact and then out of embarrassment when she realised that her eyes were watering. Mumbling something incoherent, she dried them with her sleeve. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

Blythe busied herself with taking out the ice cream, opening the tub, and scooping out a spoonful. “Yeah,” she mumbled right before taking a bite of the dessert. She held up the tub and nodded towards it. “This is the solution to all my problems, and you’re absolutely my saviour. I feel better already.”

Theon smiled. “I’m glad.” She debated inviting him in, but it was late and he probably needed to get some sleep. Before she could come to a decision, he asked, “Are you free this weekend?”

Swallowing another spoonful of ice cream, she hummed, feigning contemplation. “Well, I could be. It all depends. Are you free this weekend?”

He snorted and leaned against her door frame--a sign of weariness, she’d observed. “Well, no. I have my hands full with a kid who likes to drag me around and disappear if I don’t keep a close eye on her.”

“Sounds like you could use an extra set of eyes.”

“It sure does.”

She saluted him. “I’ll be packed and ready to go at eight o’clock sharp.”

“You still have a few days to get ready.” He rolled his eyes. “I’ll leave you to your ice cream in the meantime.”

“I’ll most certainly be enjoying my soulmate.”

Theon gave her an odd look but otherwise didn’t question her statement.

“Truth or dare.”

Theon glanced up from the notes he’d been reading over, then looked at the math book Blythe shoved aside. “Are you finished already?” They’d fallen into the routine of studying together at least once a week--outside of their normal tutoring sessions, of course.

While she enjoyed the quiet time together, she, in a word, was bored of math. “Not yet, but it’s easy to burn out if you study nonstop all day. A break won’t hurt.” She smiled. “So, truth or dare.”

“Truth,” he decided after a moment, and he bookmarked his page before closing his notebook.

There were plenty of things she wanted to know about Theon Marlowe, from his likes and dislikes to his favourite memories to his romantic inclinations. The latter would be an inappropriate place to start, so she settled for something simple. “Cats or dogs?”

He leaned back, ran a hand through his hair in a way that obscured his glasses (she’d cheered internally upon seeing him wear them again) before he readjusted them. “I don’t really have a preference. Maybe cats, if I have to pick? Bo likes them a lot, and I like seeing her excited about them.”

How sentimental. She expected nothing less. When he said nothing else, she prompted, “Your turn.”

“Oh. Truth or dare?”

“Truth.” There weren’t many dares they could do in a library, after all. Maybe she should have just suggested a game of twenty questions? Ah, but that had a limit, and she wanted to know as much as possible.

“What did rocky road ever do to you?”

Taken aback by the question, she snorted out a laugh. Who could say he didn’t have a sense of humour? “Rocky road owes me five dollars. Truth or dare?”

“Truth.”

Albeit tempted to return the question by asking him what he had against butter pecan, she settled for something a little more serious. “When you get a fancy job or own a company or whatever, what’s the main thing you want to do with your money?” It didn’t have the same weight as his opinion on butter pecan, but it was an important question nonetheless.

Tilting his head, he tapped his pencil against his notebook, and after a moment of contemplation, he said, “I want to take a proper bath.” He sighed, subtly dramatic. “I can’t fit into a standard-sized bathtub, but it seems like it’d be relaxing. Also, I’d remodel the counters in my house to be a few inches higher so I won’t have to bend over as much throughout the day.”

You dork. Her stomach turned, but in a pleasant way she’d never experienced before. Great. “I’m glad you have your priorities in order.” She couldn’t say she understood his tall people problems, though she did support him being happy.

“I’ve learned what’s important. Truth or dare.”

“Truth.”

“What do you plan on doing once you graduate?”

She’d half-expected another silly question. In fact, she would have preferred one over what he did ask. “My family owns a manufacturing company. I’m majoring in business, and then I’ll work for them and inherit the company in the future.” Fortunately, she’d long since gotten used to hiding her displeasure about that fact.

“Oh.” Theon blinked. “I’d assumed you wanted to be a chef.”

Shifting her weight, she fiddled with her sleeve and stared down at her hands. “That’s... more of a hobby.” She cursed herself for hesitating. Maybe she could play it off as embarrassment? “Just something to enjoy in the meantime, you know.” He opened his mouth to speak, but she cut him off. “Anyway, truth or dare?”

“Truth.”

“Have you ever...” She wanted to ask if he liked anyone; however, that was too direct for her taste. If she asked, the reason behind the question might be obvious. Jackson insisted that Theon was dense when it came to that topic, though that explanation didn’t seem quite right. Asking about some personal history would be better, she decided. “Have you ever been in a relationship?”

Despite the fact that Jackson’s comments made it seem like she would’ve needed to elaborate, Theon wasted no time in responding, “No.”

Blythe sat up straighter. “Any reason?”

He snorted. “Your turn. Truth or dare.”

“Truth.” Her shoulders slumped. Only one question per turn, huh? Fair enough.

“Have you ever been in a relationship?”

Oh. So they were returning questions now. “I’ve been on dates, but nothing I would call being in a relationship.” Namely because her parents pressured her into seeing the people they were with--sons of their rich business associates. For the most part, they were nice enough, but the principal of being forced into a relationship turned her off. “Now, truth or dare, and you already know my question.”

Theon took a deep breath and leaned back. From what she could tell, he didn’t seem too keen on answering. Maybe he thought she’d judge him for it--maybe because he was used to being judged for it? The thought bothered her. “I’ve never been interested in anyone,” he explained.

She cursed the way her stomach sank, but at least her smile didn’t waver. “Oh. That makes sense, then.”

“It does?” His eyebrows raised.

“Yeah.” She shrugged. “If you’re not interested in that sort of thing, then you shouldn’t force yourself to be. There’s nothing wrong with being comfortable.”

A smile tugged at his lips. “Thank you for that.” She nodded, and a moment of silence lapse between them before he spoke again. “So, truth or dare?”

Not wanting to risk being asked any romantic questions, she leaned forward and answered, “Dare.”

“Finish your math homework.”

On Saturday, Blythe found herself herself sitting on a park bench next to Theon as they watched Pyrrha play with a cat she’d found--an outdoor cat, given the collar, and a friendly one. To the child, at least, though he’d hissed at Theon, which Blythe found amusing. As such, he’d resigned himself to sitting a safe distance away, and after a couple minutes of petting the cat, she decided to keep him company.

They sat in silence for a minute before she asked, “What was that thing you said before about her name? I meant to ask earlier, but I forgot until now.”

“Her name is Pyrrha, and if you want her to like you, call her that.” He smiled, and his gaze never strayed from his cousin crouched on the ground next to the cat and seemingly having a conversation with the animal. “My aunt and I call her Bo because that’s how she referred to herself when she couldn’t speak well enough to pronounce her actual name, but she doesn’t like the nickname.”

“I bet she’ll like me no matter what I call her.” She perked up. “I’m a very likable person, in case you weren’t aware.”

That comment elicited a snort. “If you insist.”

She pouted. How dare he! But her expression softened as she turned her attention back to Pyrrha and watched the child giggle as the cat licked her nose. “She has to be the cutest kid I’ve ever seen,” she commented, and Theon hummed in agreement. Glancing back at him, she shifted her weight. “So... let me know if you don’t want to talk about it, but I’m a little curious. You said you’ve never been interested in a relationship, right? Is that because you’ve never liked anyone, or some other reason maybe...?”

He looked at her for a moment before returning his gaze back to watch his cousin. “I don’t mind. Well, not for the most part, at least. Some people aren’t very pleasant about it, but...” He made a face, then sighed. “It’s mostly that I’ve never liked anyone, and I’ve never felt the need to pretend I’m interested in that sort of thing when I’m not. I also wouldn’t want to be in a relationship before graduating from school anyway.”

Ah, well, maybe it’d be a good time to get over her crush, then, if there wasn’t a chance of having her feelings reciprocated. “I see.” She nodded slowly. “Why not before you graduate?” It seemed like an oddly specific rule, especially for someone who wasn’t interested in relationships to begin with.

A squirrel ran by, catching the cat’s attention before he took off to chase it. Pyrrha stared after them for a moment, then slumped her shoulders, trudged back to the bench, and climbed up to sit on Theon’s lap. He shifted a bit to accommodate her, and when he didn’t say anything, she prompted, “You guys can keep talking.”

Blythe laughed a bit. “Sad that your friend ran away?”

The child perked up at that, her legs swinging. “Nope! He’s having fun, so I’m happy! Just sad that I can’t pet him anymore, but I’ll see him again. He’s a good kitty. I’ve met his owners before too, ‘cause the first time we saw him, we were worried that he’d just escaped his house and they’d be looking for him, so we scooped him up and took him to the address on his tag, and they reassured us that he runs around outside all the time. Brings them presents, too! Cats do that ‘cause they think their humans can’t hunt for themselves, y’know. They’re just looking out for us.”

“Do they? I didn’t know that. That’s great!” Blythe beamed as she reached out to ruffle the kid’s hair, though she received some protest to the action. Idly, she wondered if Theon would be comfortable continuing the conversation in front of Pyrrha, but she didn’t want to seem too desperate either.

Apparently, she didn’t need to ask, since once the kid quieted down again, he explained, “My mom dropped out of college because she got pregnant with me. I guess that’s partly why I don’t see the appeal of dating during college. The other part, well, I already mentioned.”

“Theon’s a pill baby,” Pyrrha piped up. While he spoke, she’d curled up against his chest, humming softly to herself. “His dad’s super rich and lives in Italy. He bought me cake once too.”

Pill baby? Given the context, Blythe supposed that must’ve meant that his mother had been on birth control at the time she got pregnant, right? She’d heard the term before, and if she remembered correctly, that was what it meant. “Did his dad--” pay for his college? Fortunately, she managed to stop herself just in time. She shouldn’t have had any way of knowing about Theon’s financial situation, but Pyrrha’s comment did explain why he suddenly didn’t need the scholarship. Theon’s brow furrowed at the way she cut herself off, and she rushed to continue before he could ask. “Uh. Did his dad move to Italy after graduating?” Nice save.

“No,” Theon answered, “he’s from Italy, but he decided to go to college here as a foreign exchange student. He and my mom had a short relationship, and after graduation, he moved back home.”

Blythe nodded. Well, that mystery was solved. She wondered if she’d ever meet his father; she seemed to be curious about all things Theon Marlowe recently. And as Pyrrha tugged at his shirt and requested that they go eat lunch, she didn’t see anything wrong with that.