#anybody somebody does something weird she’s like ‘well hey let’s see what happens’

[leatherforhell]

I need you all to understand that at least half of Clara’s decision making is based on ‘well… this may as well happen’ and also ‘I bet this’ll be funny to watch’

[pocket-sized-nightmare]

so i saw this geminitay fanart by @aresonist today and might have gotten a little inspired to write a fic about it. especially because we have another life series premiering today and i'm very excited about it. so have some silly little gempearl nightmare angst (and op i hope you don't mind me using your art as inspiration!)

The sculk is hungry, and it comes with death.

Gem has never seen so much corruption in one place. It spreads as far as her eye can see until it trails off into darkness and inky black skies. Six games’ worth of loss is contained here. Three lives lost for every player, over and over. Death after death, kill after kill.

Some of the destruction is hers. She doesn’t want to know how much.

She blinks, breathes, and takes a step forward. Worldwalkers know how to navigate dreams, and Gem is no exception. She has endless control over the world inside her mind. She can make maps of every construction and wake herself up from the worst nightmares. It would take a true horror to keep her captive. Still, though, her dreamscapes are usually complicated. This is just… sculk. So much sculk. Gem can’t help but feel a sense of morbid curiosity about it.

Another step, then another. Nothing changes.

“Hello?” Gem calls. “Anybody home?”

There’s no response. It occurs to Gem that yelling in a field of sculk is a surefire way to summon a warden. She claps a hand over her mouth to silence herself, then slowly removes it. If something does try to kill her, she can just wake up. No harm done, right? Just a little insomnia. “Hello? What’s going on here?”

Silence. Complete silence.

“I know something’s hiding! You can just come out and get me, you know. I’m not scared of you!”

Come to think of it, there’s not a single sculk shrieker in the field at all. There’s not even a sensor. It’s all just empty space. Remnants of death with nothing to show for it.

Is this how winners feel?

Gem shakes her head to clear the thought. Worldwalkers know dreams better than anyone. This must be some weird half-memory from exploring Caves and Cliffs for the first time. Or maybe some unresolved panic from the escape world between Hermitcraft Seasons 8 and 9. That was pretty empty, right? She was wrong about the whole six-games’-worth-of-death thing at the beginning. This has nothing to do with the Life Series. This has absolutely nothing to do with the fact that the next game is set to start tomorrow.

Gem blinks. She breathes. She takes another step.

“This is fine. I’m fine. I’m so fine. It’s just a dream. I know how to deal with this. I’m completely–”

There’s a sudden tug on her left foot. She looks down to find it completely buried in sculk.

“Do you see that button right there?” she giggles to Scar. “Can you press it?”

Gem feels her breath catch in her lungs for a moment. “Nope. Absolutely not.” She wrenches her foot upwards, just barely managing to pull it free. “Not funny.”

Another step, then another, then–

“No!” Bdubs yells from below her, with zombies closing in. “It’s over for me…”

Her foot is buried deeper now. Try as she might, she can’t move it anymore. “Hey, no, stop it,” she admonishes the corruption. “Let go.”

“How did Pearl blow up? Wait, did–”

Gem grabs her boot with both hands and pulls. The sculk refuses to give. “Let go of me,” she snaps louder. Why does her voice sound so anxious? She isn’t afraid. This is her dreamscape, after all. “That one wasn’t meant to happen.”

“Somebody rigged that for us,” she grins, elbowing Scar. “Thank goodness, though. That worked out so well.”

Her right foot is trapped now, too. There’s no way her dreamself is getting out of this one. “Okay, okay, I get it. The infection was deadly. I know what I did. You can stop now.”

“Wow, maybe it actually is an apocalypse!”

“Yeah, that’s enough of that.” Gem envisions a sunrise-orange light in front of her. It spreads, brightening across her whole field of vision. This is the easiest trick in the book for her – she’s done it practically since birth, before any of the memory tricks or lucid dreaming, even before her full powers awakened. “I’m getting out of here.”

She swings her sword almost lazily, and it slashes across Joel’s chest. He’s weakened from the zombie attacks – he’s dead before he hits the ground.

The light flickers out in a puff of smoke.

“What?” Gem’s heart slams against her ribs. She desperately kicks and twists her feet within their sculk prison, but all it does is bury her deeper. “No. That’s not supposed to happen. That never happens.”

Only the most awful of nightmares can keep a worldwalker asleep. Gem isn’t being chased or stalked. Nothing is trying to kill her. It’s just her and her memories in a field of sculk. It’s fine. It’s fine. Waking up should be effortless. She can’t be trapped.

“Scar just murdered me!”

Gem makes one more desperate attempt at tearing her feet free. The force knocks her off balance, and she falls backwards to the ground. Sculk crawls across her body instantly.

“No.” Gem struggles against the dreamscape, but it only grows stronger. “No, stop! Let go of me! It was just a game! It’s over now! Let go!”

“I don’t want to kill her! Pearl, I don’t want to kill you!”

She tries to summon another sunrise light, but it fizzles out in front of her. Both her arms are pinned down. It won’t be long until she’s buried completely. “Stop! Let me go!”

“No, Gem, stop it!” Pearl shrieks. Blood drips from the cuts along her arms. She’s down to two hearts, then half a heart, and then…

Gem kicks and struggles against the sculk. Nothing she does is any use. She can’t move. She can hardly breathe. All the death she’s caused is coming back to eat her alive, and no matter how hard she tries, she can’t escape it.

“Gem,” a familiar voice murmurs from somewhere outside the dreamscape. “Are you alright?”

“Let go!” Gem claws at the corruption, pleading with her subconscious in a last-ditch attempt at escape. She can’t be here. I killed her. I killed her so many times. Her death is written into half this stuff. I did this. It’s my fault. I can’t bring her here.

A soft touch grabs gently at her arms and tugs at her body. “Gem, stop. You’re thrashing around. It’s alright. You’re okay. You’re safe.”

“No, stop!” Gem screams, struggling harder against her restraints. “It’s not okay! We can’t go back!”

“Come on, Scar,” Pearl sobs, trying not to look at the dying form of her partner. Gem is putting up the best fight she can, but void, it’s all too much. Pearl is watching her die. All Gem wants is to go back to safety, where she can curl up in Pearl’s arms and smile and say it’s all fine. She needs it to be over, but she can’t let it end. She can’t let it end, because ending means dying, and it hurts, it all hurts so badly, and Pearl is still screaming. “Come on, Scar, you’ve got this! You can do this!”

Sculk crawls across Gem’s face and creeps up to cover her mouth. She knows it’s her own death coming back to kill her again. She’s running out of time.

“Gem.” Kind hands dig through the sculk, gently beginning to pry her free. “Shh. It’s alright. You’re having a nightmare.”

Gem sobs, still kicking and struggling. She can barely breathe.

“Hey. Hey, shh, it’s alright.” As the familiar voice surrounds Gem, the sculk’s hold on her begins to loosen. “Stop struggling. You don’t need to fight. Fighting won’t end this. You’re having a nightmare.” One arm slips free, then the other. “Today’s a scary day. I know. It always is. Take a deep breath, alright? I don’t know what you’re seeing, but it doesn’t look good. You’re having a nightmare. It isn’t real. I promise.” She squeezes Gem’s hand. “I’m right here. Try to wake up with me.”

Gem spits the bitter sculk out of her mouth and forces herself to address the voice, the one who’s trying to save her, the one who’s always been there. The voice of her partner.

Pearl’s voice.

“Pearl, stop,” Gem murmurs. “It’s not right.” Her energy to fight fades until she falls still, lying back against the corrupted ground. “I can’t…” Her chest hurts. “Don’t save me. It’s not right. This is right. I… I killed…”

Pearl can’t hide a soft gasp – Gem’s first sign that her words are breaking through to the waking world. She brushes her hand across Gem’s forehead. “Never.” Her hands slip under Gem’s shoulders, moving effortlessly through the bonds holding her partner down. “That game is over. We’re here together now. We’re starting fresh. Tomorrow will be tough, but it’ll be alright.” Pearl is still there. She isn’t recoiling in horror. She isn’t afraid. “I’m right here. We’re both still here. Try to wake up.”

Trust blossoms in Gem’s chest alongside a small sunrise light. The nightmare is letting go. She might get out after all. “Don’t let go of me.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” Pearl gives Gem the softest, kindest forehead kiss she’s ever felt. It’s a tether to the waking world, a single anchor point. Pearl is her anchor. Pearl is strong. Pearl has won before, has lived this endless field of death, and she’s come out the other side to help others through it. Despite all the carnage, Pearl isn’t leaving. She and Gem will face the next nightmare together.

As the sunrise light spreads across her vision, Gem uses the last of her strength to reach up and wrap her arms around Pearl’s shoulders. With a gentle hug, Pearl pulls her free of the trap.

Gem opens her eyes and looks around at the soft lantern light of Pearl’s bedroom. Pearl is still holding her close. “See? I knew the sleepover was a good idea. Start days are hard. We’ve all dealt with it.”

“Scary,” Gem murmurs softly. “So much sculk. It wouldn’t let go…”

“But it did,” Pearl whispers back, combing her fingers through Gem’s hair. “You’re here now.”

“I’m here now,” Gem repeats, like she’s trying to believe it. “It’s okay.”

“And it’s going to stay that way.” Pearl kisses Gem again. “We’re only halfway through the night, okay? We can still get some sleep.” She lies back down and holds out an inviting arm to Gem. “We will take on tomorrow together.”

Gem curls up against Pearl and closes her eyes. “Thank you.”

Pearl smiles as she wraps her arm around Gem. “For what?”

“For not letting me lose myself.”

Gem’s dreamscape is eerie and quiet for the rest of the night, but every so often, the ambient hum of Pearl’s base breaks though to calm her. Secret Life is over. Every death game ends. Pearl is still there, and so is Gem.

There’s always a way out.

[ghostmemesource]

👻୧‿︵‿︵ ash vs. evil dead sentence starters

these are quotes taken from the starz series ash vs. evil dead. send in one of the prompts below for my muse’s response. please change pronouns/names where you see fit.

First thing I got to do is see a guy about a book. Must be some spell I can say to undo all this.

The other first thing I got to do is some cardio, ’cause my heart is jackhammering like a quarterback on prom night.

One false move, and I will Second Amendment your brains all over this truck.

We’re not leaving a trail of blood and guts behind us, we’re keeping Michigan moist.

There’s one thing I learned from [name]. Shoot first, ask questions never.

Last time I was here with a girl, I was hopin’ to get laid.

If I’ve learned anything from you, [name], it’s that if something seems too good to be true, it probably is.

Hey, I’m looking for a friend. He’s, uh, tall, dumb, smells like… bread.

You fought this thing before. Maybe you just got to finish what you started.

Yes, I’m upset. Yes, I’m behind the wheel. Yes, I’m drunk. And maybe my license isn’t the fancy kind from the DMV. But at least I’m drunk!

Without good, there is no evil.

With all due respect, your tiny brain is a lot safer without my problems inside it.

Trust me, once you get jacked in the face, it’ll all click. I can’t even get my nut up to rumble unless I’ve had a good shot to the chin.

Once again I saved the world. Now it's time to get the girl.

Most people go through life thinkin’ they’re totally safe. People like us, we know the truth. Life is hard and dangerous, and sometimes you just gotta chop off somebody’s head to survive.

I kill demons, not people. Unless those people are demons, who look like people. And then I kill people, but they’re not really people, they’re demons. You understand?

Never get between a papa bear and his cub.

What’s out there knows that you’re alive, and it wants you to be… un-alive.

Well, good news I found a piece of pie with no blood on it. Anybody want a bite?

To save those two, I would submit to a prostate exam.

This town is only big enough for one asshole, and that asshole is me.

Sometimes what you think you saw, it’s exactly what you saw.

Someone needs to wash your mouth out, kid. And that someone is me.

Now I’m gonna kill you, just like I killed your father! I didn’t really kill your father, that just kinda sounded cool.

I gotta warn you, you’re gonna want to leave your husband for me, and I can’t let that happen. Family values.

I’m not drunk enough to know if this is good-weird or bad-weird. But I’ll get there though.

I’m going to be like a ninja losing his virginity, quick and discreet.

I told you. A good shot to the face always gets the juices flowin’.

Thanks for the opinion, appreciate it. Now you can take it, turn it sideways, shove it right up the old poop chute.

When you get back to Hell, work on your aim.

Do you know what evil is, [name]? It’s power without fear, without guilt, and without pain.

Hey, good looking. You here to break me out or break me in?

I'm gonna get you pregnant later.

I'd know that caboose from anywhere.

Even if this goes perfectly, there's a good chance you'll die.

Well, [name], it's been fun catching up. Sorry I got to kill you.

Don't you get it? Everybody dies here. It's just a rule.

If once you start down that path, forever, it will dominate your destiny.

Did you just Yoda quote me?

Alright, look, we get this done quick enough, we might have time to stop for churros.

Yeah, well, your cooking was shit.

Yeah, I remember when I was like you. Young, dumb, full of… conflicting emotions.

Sweet musical Jesus, that's your friend? Oh, she's filthy and fine!

She haunts my dreams. Just kidding. She does, though.

Do me a favor will ya, thank your mother for me?  She passed her genes down to you in all the right places.

Damn, [name]. Badass.

Why are you covered in blood?

So look, uh, I'm not a grief counselor, but if it's any consolation, I have had to kill and bury loved ones before. A bunch of times, actually.

Oh sure. I'll just sit here with the police officer we tied up and rethink my recent life choices.

Get ahold of yourself, woman!

I'm gonna say a lot of dumb things.

[platypanthewriter]

Take On Me

Art by @fae-vorite​ for the Harringrove Big Bang!

When Steve pulled up in the drive, he had a mouthful of blue slushie, and he was watching the tiny old lady he’d been driving behind.  She’d barely been tall enough to see over the dash, and as he watched, grimacing, she barely swerved around a row of mailboxes, and then carreened through a four-way stop.

As he stared after her, there was a weird hissing noise by his elbow.  Steve yelled and threw his arm up in the air, spattering himself with slushie.  

“Bwah!” Max yelled, stumbling back, and smacking blue slushie ice off her arm.  “Steve!  What the hell.”

She hadn’t been in the driveway when he pulled in, Steve was fairly sure, and he stared around.  “Where are the rest of you?” he asked warily, rubbing flung slushie off his chin.  He glanced up, half-expecting Dustin to swing down on him with a vine from a tree.

Max squinted at him, her jaw working, and then glanced around.  “In the bushes,” she said.  “Get us inside, now, Steve.”

He rolled his eyes, stalked over and held the front door open—and then swore and dropped his slushie right on the ground and ran over to help, because it wasn’t Dustin and the Chipmunks hiding in the bushes.  There was a woman, shaking, her hands stained with what looked like blood, and Billy Hargrove, who apparently wasn’t dead, barely staggering between Max and the lady.  He was bandaged, and half-naked.  

Steve elbowed his way in past Max, and got an arm around Billy, hefting his sweaty, shivering ass towards the door.  

Once Steve had Billy, Max ran ahead and kicked the slushie cup aside, ushering the woman into his house.  “Mom, come on,” she groaned, and it occured to Steve that he’d never wondered about Max’s mom.  It seemed obvious, thinking about it, that most people had a mom.  One of his girlfriends freshman year had had two, and didn’t seem to have a dad, which Steve had never quite figured out.

Billy looked dead, mostly, pale until he was nearly grey, like instant oatmeal.  “I thought you were dead,” Steve hissed at him, and he snorted a laugh.  

“Guess not,” he breathed, his head against Steve’s as he stumbled along.

When they got inside, the phone was ringing, but Max ran and stood in front of it.  “Don’t answer,” she told Steve, staring at him with wet red eyes.  He nodded, still half-carrying her undead brother, and trying to figure out whether the blood on Max’s mom could have come from under Billy’s bandages.  

“We should call somebody,” Steve pointed out, as he lowered Billy onto the couch.  Billy’s eyes were closed, and he didn’t try and get himself more comfortable, or anything, he just laid there.  Steve threw a blanket over him, feeling like he was covering up a body.  

Max’s mom looked like she wasn’t up for much, staring at her hands and the floor, and Max took a deep, shaky breath, rubbing her face.  

Steve beckoned her into the kitchen.  “We should call somebody,” he whispered, again.  Max set her jaw, shaking her head, and Steve made a face.  “At least a doctor,” he hissed, and she deflated, staring out at the limp shape of Billy on the couch.  

“H-he should be fine,” she mumbled, digging her fingernails into her forearms until the skin whitened.  “He—he didn’t get shot,” she gritted out, and her mom flinched, shivering, and rubbed at her bloody hands.  

“Wait,” said Steve, staring between them.

“M-my husband,” said Max’s mom, and then covered her mouth, and a shaky sob.

“You have a dad?!” Steve yelped, looking around.  “He got shot?!” he added, grabbing his car keys, because it seemed like somebody should probably find the guy. 

“He’s dead,” Max’s mom whispered, staring at her bloodied hands.  “He died right—right in front—in front of—”

“He wasn’t my dad,” Max said flatly, “—and we don’t need to go anywhere.”

Steve nodded, and then shook his head, bewildered.  He hung the car keys up by the front door, and then braced himself, and sidled over to touch Max’s mom’s shoulder, waving at the kitchen sink.  “Um, d’you want to…?”  

She nodded, and took a couple weaving steps to lean against a chair, which she drug to the sink.  Steve leaned down to whisper to Max.  “...so...somebody’s dad got shot?  That’s—that’s where the blood—” he asked, feeling well out of his depth.  His fingers itched to call a functioning adult—Hopper, or Joyce Byers, even, because it looked like Max’s mom wasn’t up for much more than staring at the bloody water in the sink.  “Should I try and find some...tea,” Steve hazarded, and Max snorted a laugh, rubbing her eyes.  

“Billy’s dad,” she whispered, watching her mom.  “The, um—” she dropped her voice further.  It rasped in her throat.  “—Mom let them in because they told her they were the CIA.”

“The CIA shot Billy’s dad?!” Steve choked out, trying to keep it under his breath.  

“They weren’t actually the CIA,” Max said, rolling her eyes.  “Obviously.”

“O-obviously,” Steve echoed, because it sort of made sense.  It did seem weird that the CIA would come to Hawkins, Indiana to shoot anybody’s dad.

“Mom thought they were just...checking on us, you know,” Max said, sniffling, and Steve tried to imagine assuming that the C-fucking-IA had banged on his door just to roll out the welcome wagon.  “Just—just like the FBI does, all the damn time,” Max mumbled, biting her lip.

“Wait, what,” Steve interrupted with a hiss.  “The what now.”

“We’re, um, we’re not really from California,” she whispered, swallowing, and biting back a sharp laugh.  

“Okay,” Steve nodded, raising his eyebrows, and watching Max’s mom cry softly with her arms in the sink, and her head bowed.  “Okay, yeah, no, hang on,” he told Max, jogging the couple of steps over to her mom.  He poked the woman’s shoulder gingerly.  “You all cleaned up?” he asked, keeping his voice soft, and she turned big watery eyes on him, but she nodded.  

“Come out in the front room and sit down,” Steve told her, feeling like sitting wouldn’t really help much, but crying into the sink had to be worse.  He reached in and turned the water off, and guided her by the elbow into the front room.  “Gonna get everybody something hot to drink,” he told them, hoping he still had...something.  Ancient instant coffee from the last time his dad was home, maybe.  Something old and dusty, probably, but Steve didn’t think Max’s mom would know the difference, not after having her husband shot by somebody pretending to be the fucking CIA.  

After he pointed her at the big recliner, Max started fussing around with the color-coordinated throw blankets Steve’s mom had bought and never used, and Steve stepped over to the couch to squeamishly lift the blanket off Billy’s head.

“I-I’m fine, honey,” Max’s mom told her, behind them, as Steve surveyed Billy’s pale, sweaty face.  His eyes were closed, but the skin around them was as red and raw as Max’s mom’s.  His eyelashes were stuck together with the fresh tears leaving trails down his cheeks.  

Steve dropped the blanket again, grimacing, and stalked back into the kitchen to find the teakettle, fill it, and put it on the stove.  He found some packets of hot chocolate Dustin’s mom had given him at Christmas, and dumped them into two mugs.  After a minute, watching the glow of the burner shine off the bottom of the kettle, he grabbed another mug, shrugging.  

 Max shook her head when he walked out and tried to hand her the hot chocolate.  “I’m not a little kid,” she said, glaring at him, but her mom took it with a soft sigh.  

“Thank you,” she said hoarsely.  “Max, sit down, I—I’m fine.”  She reached out and took the mug Steve had offered Max, and held it out to her, and Max sighed heavily, but took it.

Steve went back for the third mug, and then uncovered Billy’s head again.  “Hey,” he whispered, and Billy licked his chapped lips without opening his eyes.  He grimaced before he blinked and squinted up.  “Here, at least hold it,” Steve told him.  “It’s warm.”

“...you made me tea,” Billy growled, glaring at the mug, and then, warily, at Steve’s face.

“It’s chocolate,” Max put in.  “You like chocolate, asshole.”

“...made me chocolate?” Billy asked muzzily, frowning harder, and Steve sat it on the floor, in order to get his arm around Billy-suddenly-alive-Hargrove, and help him sit up.  

“Are you sure you’re not...dying?” Steve whispered to him, lifting the mug and pressing Billy’s hands around it.  “Like, right here?  I need to, uh...kidnap a doctor, or…?”

Billy snorted into his first sip of hot chocolate, biting his lips together as his chest shook with coughs.  After a few seconds, he took a shaky breath, and opened his eyes again.  “Don’t...kidnap anybody,” he rasped out, smirking.  “Didn’t know you had it in you, Harrington.”

“I know a guy,” Steve told him, letting go of the mug, and reaching out to tug at the bandages visible over the top of the blanket.  Billy went very still, holding his breath, which was creepy.  If he wasn’t sitting up, Steve would have checked his pulse.  “A doctor.  M’not gonna let you die,” Steve told him, eyeing the stretched pink scars under the gauze.  Some of the gauze looked wet, not red, but pale yellow, and Steve grimaced, brushing his fingers over it.

“It’s just the surgeries.  Fuck,” Billy creaked out, his hands shaking on the hot chocolate so it nearly spilled.  “They had to cut me open a few more times.  Stitch me back together.”  

Steve put his hands around Billy’s on the mug, to steady them.  “...I got some duct tape somewhere,” he offered, under his breath, and Billy’s breath huffed against his fingers in a laugh.  His mustache tickled, but Steve held steady, watching him drink the hot chocolate.  His cheeks were pinking up a little.  He stunk, kinda, sweaty, and sour from his bandages.  It was weird to be anywhere near Billy Hargrove and not smell his cologne.  “...I thought you were dead,” Steve said under his breath, and Billy shrugged a shoulder, wincing, and swallowing hard.

“Murphy’s law,” Billy hissed back, grinning, but his eyes welled up again, and he blinked rapidly.  “Whatever you least want to happen…”

 Steve helped him drink the hot chocolate, trying to think of something to say.  ‘Sorry your dad got shot,’ seemed wrong.  ‘At least your mom’s alive,’ didn’t seem right either, and then Steve realized he had no idea whether the woman was Billy’s mom.  Billy and Max’s family seemed complicated, and it was entirely possible both parents were Billy’s, and Max had been snatched from a stroller outside a grocery store.  

“So, um,” Steve started.  “You’re...not from California?  Why would you…”  

“Lie about that?” Max asked, flatly.  “The goddamn FBI told us to.”

“...the ones that…” Steve stared over at her, trying not to stare at whoever’s mom’s hands, where they’d been all over blood.  Max called her mom, he told himself.  Whatever she is, Max thinks of her as her mom.

Maybe they’re aliens, he thought, trying not to laugh, because why was the FBI checking in.  Maybe they’d all raised Max from an alien egg they’d taken turns sitting on.

She seemed okay, for an alien, he decided, as Max said, “We’re in Witness Protection.  Or we were, until the Starcourt Mall footage made the national news.”

“Ohhhhh,” Steve said, nodding.  “That makes more sense than aliens,” and Billy choked on his hot chocolate.  “Did you see a gang murder?” Steve asked politely, that being how it usually worked in Hawaii Five-O.

Billy coughed harder, and Steve patted his back, gently, grimacing as he tried not to break the guy any further.  

“Noooo,” said Max, and when Steve glanced over, she was staring at him.

“What?  Shit happens,” Steve said, shrugging.  “Sometimes monsters steal your brother.”

“They didn’t exactly steal him,” Max said weakly, and Steve blinked.  

“I was talking about Will Byers,” he said, and shrugged.  “No gang shootouts, then?”

“We lived near Portland,” Max said, like that fact made Steve’s question the stupidest question ever asked, and then she sighed.  “It’s, um, it’s actually...stupider.  Than that.  There, um, there was a...lab.  There.”

“Ohhh,” Steve said, nodding, and thinking of Hawkins Laboratory, and Eleven.  

“They wanted children to...experiment on,” she whispered, and trailed off.  Steve turned to see her glowering into her mug.

“Set up this machine to check the local kids,” Billy said, suddenly, near Steve’s ear.  He huffed a laugh as Steve jumped.  “At the arcade.  Looked like a normal arcade machine, but it was keeping track, high scores, you know.”  He took a shaky breath, then cleared his throat.  “Even had a fake name.  Polybius.”

“How the fuck was I supposed to know?!” Max shouted, suddenly, her voice wet and uneven, and her mom grabbed her close, squeezing her with white-knuckled hands.  “How the hell...we saw guys in suits parked around the place, we thought maybe the owner was like...running some kind of gambling with the machines and they were watching him, or something, how could I have—”

“Went to pick her up and they were shoving her in a van,” Billy’s voice rasped, and Steve jerked unintentionally, imagining it.  “I followed them to the lab and they tried to tell me it was some...class for special kids,” he hissed.  “Tried to tell us all to shut up.”

“They came and talked to N-Neil and I,” Max’s mom said.  “They were...we did what they asked, if they’d leave Max alone.  We couldn’t talk about it, not with anyone.”  

Steve nodded, familiar with the way laboratories worked, and filed away the fact that Max’s not-dad had been named Neil, before somebody’d shot him.  There was a long silence, then, as Billy bit his lips together, frowning into the nearly-empty mug of hot chocolate, and Max’s mom cried softly again.

“I called the fucking police,” Max said hoarsely into the silence.  “I—I called the goddamn police, they were—they were stealing kids, they—”

“Yeah,” Steve said, grimacing.  He’d found out more and more about what the lab had been doing, after he’d promised to keep quiet.  They’d even killed the nice burger man, he thought sadly.  His name had been Benny, Steve learned later, but at the time, he’d just been the nice burger man, the one who listened and advised as Steve told him about being terrible at college application essays, and his love for the smartest girl in school.  

Luckily, in Steve’s case, the sheriff had already been told.  “You had to,” he agreed.

“They shot the cop she told,” Billy said flatly, in Steve’s ear.

“They were kidnapping little kids—” Max yelled at Billy, her voice cracking with emotion and he raised his voice over hers, his voice wavery as he tried to catch his breath.  

“Shot him in the head.  They shot his partner, too—”

“The FBI helped us sneak out,” Max’s mom said softly, but they both shut up.  “We were shuffled around a lot…”

“Why bring you here,” Steve said doubtfully.  “Where our lab is?  I mean, it’s better, now.”

“Maybe our FBI guys weren’t as on our side as we thought,” Billy muttered, swallowing hard, again, and Steve realized he was trying not to cry.

Steve tried not to do anything, push Billy away, or anything weirder, like hug him.  He’d gotten too good at this babysitting thing, he thought with a grimace, if he was inclined to hug Billy Goddamn Hargrove.  The problem was, Billy’s inaudible, bitten-back sobs felt like when Nancy’s little sister was scared of the noises outside, while her parents were at the movies.  Steve was conditioned to pull that kind of thing against his shoulder, even when it was Billy Hargrove, with his broad, heavy, muscular shoulders, and heavier fists.

“Fuck,” Billy hissed under his breath, pulling his hand loose from Steve’s to rub his wrist across his eyes.  

“...d’you want...anything,” Steve whispered, as softly as he could, fairly sure Billy didn’t want him to sing Old MacDonald even if he was really good at all the animal noises.  

“How about my dad, alive,” Billy snarled, his unsteady breaths taking the sting out of it.  

“Thanks for letting us in,” Max said, hoarsely, and Steve turned to frown at her.

“Of course I let you in,” he snorted.  “I wasn’t gonna leave you hiding in my bushes.”

“We—we’ll figure out what to do,” Max said, as her mother squeezed her close again.  “Soon.  Before—before the lab people figure out where we are.”

“We need Hopper,” Steve told them, starting to stand, and then realizing he was holding Billy up, and he didn’t want to drop him on the floor.  He wasn’t sure how together Billy was under the bandages—he didn’t seem very...healed—and the thought of dropping him on the floor, and just accidentally jostling all Billy’s internal organs out through a big hole in his back made Steve shudder.  

“You can’t call him,” Max’s mom said bleakly.  “They were listening to our phones.  They said, as we...ran,” she choked out.

“...bet they aren’t listening to walkie-talkies,” Steve told her, absently spreading his fingers over the cool skin of Billy’s shoulder, to warm him up.

“Where’s yours?” Max asked breathlessly, and Steve gave her directions to his sock drawer.  

Billy was shivering harder, and Steve waited until his little sister and maybe-mom weren’t looking to pull the blanket away from more of his bandages.

There was red smeared on them.  “Billy,” Steve hissed, urgently, and Billy laughed wetly, wiping his nose.

“‘S not mine,” he laughed, a little hysterically.  “S’my dad’s.  He—he died right—”

��Shit,” Steve said, blankly, watching Billy try to wipe it away with shaking hands, tears rolling down his cheeks.  “That can’t…” he trailed off as Max brought the walkie-talkie down, and she and her mom started whispering about what to say.  “You need new bandages,” Steve told Billy, the one thing he was confident he could do.  “I need to clean you up.”

“I’m fine, fuck,” Billy panted, sniffling juicily, and Steve nodded once.  

“I’m taking Billy up to...clean him up,” Steve told the other two, and they nodded, watching him.  

“He’s still got stitches,” Max said, glaring.  “Don’t get him wet.”

‘Your dad’s blood got all over’ didn’t seem like the right thing to say ever, so Steve just nodded, and got Billy fairly upright.  

“How far we going,” he panted, swaying, and Steve made a face, then turned around.  

“Piggyback,” he announced, and Billy swore under his breath.

 “Fuuuck,” Billy whispered in Steve’s ear, as Steve made his way carefully up the stairs, steadying himself with one hand on the railing, and one hand awkwardly supporting Billy’s ass.  “Watch it there, Harrington,” Billy snorted, with a pained grunt.  

“Sorry,” Steve told him.  “Is this like how you can’t squeeze the donuts at the store unless you buy them?” he asked, because Billy was heavy, and his ass cheek was soft in Steve’s hand, and Steve’s tongue was on cruise control.

Billy coughed, his fingers digging into Steve’s shoulder and chest as he gave a strangled-sounding laugh.  “...yeah, Harrington, it’s exactly like that,” he gasped out.  “I’m...your fucking donut...now, asshole.”

Steve laughed so hard he almost dropped him, all the adrenaline of them showing up covered in blood draining out of him.  “Shit,” he panted, staggering up onto the landing, and taking a minute to breathe.  “Don’t make me laugh on the stairs—”

“You started this shit, I just finished it,” Billy mumbled against his neck.  His breathing was uneven and shuddery.

Steve took a slow breath to steady himself, and carried Billy just that little bit further through his plaid bedroom, and into the bathroom.

Billy didn’t even comment on the extreme plaid, his teeth chattering, so Steve nearly dropped him on the toilet in his urgency to get a few inches of really hot water in the tub to plonk Billy in.  It’d be just like with Holly, he figured, put few inches of water in there to keep her warm, but not enough so she could slide in and drown.  It wouldn’t be enough to get up near Billy’s bandages, he told himself, then, while the water was running, he realized he didn’t know where all the bandages were, so he reached over and yanked at the drawstring of Billy’s sweatpants.

“WAH,” Billy said, grabbing Steve’s hand with his cold, sweaty, shaking one.  “...what,” he breathed, his eyes falling shut, and then blinking stubbornly open again.  

“Come on,” Steve said, grimacing at how pale he was.  “You got any bandages below the chest?”  Billy just shivered and breathed, staring into the middle distance, and Steve finally bit his lips together and grabbed Billy’s cold face, turning it to face him.  “Billy,” he said.  “Billy?”

“...Harrington,” Billy whispered, focusing on him, and then looking around, his eyes welling up again with tears.

“Come on, stay with me, I’m gonna get you warmed up,” Steve told him, ignoring his own heart pounding.  He was aware of shock as a concept—he’d seen Joyce Byers after—after.  But Billy had bandages, he could be bleeding out, or something, and the thought made Steve’s fingers clumsy as he tried to lift the guy enough to get his sweatpants off, and pull him into the bath.  

“Come on,” Steve whispered, pulling Billy up until he was sort of standing.  Steve had to reach down and lift Billy’s feet one by one into the tub, and he yelped, opening his eyes again at the heat.  “Just gonna clean you up,” he muttered, pretty sure Billy wasn’t hearing him, what with the way he was slumped against Steve’s side.  Steve lowered him into the water, and Billy shook his head, mumbling inaudibly.

Steve held his shoulders for a long moment, watching his face, and then yanked at the bandages.  Billy still had some stitches underneath, but to Steve’s profound relief, it didn’t seem like any of the blood was his—or that the blood had seeped in anywhere.  From what Steve remembered of reading Johnny Tremain in middle school, gangrene was a possibility if stuff got past Billy’s stitches, and so he was very careful to wipe around them.  

Billy relaxed slowly against the back of the tub, his head tilting to rest against the corner as his eyes closed.  His hands occasionally lifted to touch Steve’s, and then fell away as Steve washed him all over, until he was pink and warm, and didn’t smell like sour sweat anymore.  Billy snored softly under his fingers, and Steve bit back a laugh.  

The bath water started to cool, and Billy’s shoulders started to clench again, his legs goosepimpling, so Steve ran the hot water again.  He pulled the plug on the cooler water, then when the tub was empty, replugged it.  As the hot water rose, he ran out to grab an old plastic cup from his desk—he had to dump the pencils out—and pour warm water over Billy’s legs.  

Billy screamed, this awful broken noise, scrambling to get out of the tub, and Steve yelped and turned the water off, helping frantic, naked Billy Hargrove out of the tub and half into his lap.  He was slippery and warm, and Steve tried not to think about it, stretching to try and reach a towel, but Billy was laughing brokenly into his hands, muttering “I’m me, Harrington, I’m fucking sorry, I’m the best you’re gonna get, I’m still me, I’m Billy goddamn Hargrove—”

“Shit, I know,” Steve told him, as Billy’s wet shoulder soaked into his t-shirt.  “You’re Billy, you’re okay, shit.  You were just cold, I wasn’t trying to—”

“Maybe I’m better as the Mindflayer,” Billy laughed, gulping and sniffling.  “Could’ve taken out that lab guy before…” he took a shuddering breath, wiping his nose.  “Not just...let my dad get fucking shot,” he whispered.  “F’I wasn’t such a waste of space I’d have answered the door.”

With a sinking horror, Steve realized he had his arm around a naked guy in his bathroom, a naked guy who’d once beaten him unconscious.  A naked dude who wished he was dead.  “Maybe it wouldn’t have made a difference,” he said, after some thought.  “You don’t know he’d have gotten away.  Max’d be crying over you again.”

“Like she would,” Billy snorted, reaching for the toilet paper and loudly blowing his nose.

“She did, though,” Steve told him, and Billy glared over.

“Yeah, right,” he said, and then opened his mouth again, shut it, and wiped his eyes.  “...what the fuck am I doing here,” he grunted.

“Uh, well,” Steve started, “—you were um, playing an evil videogame in Oregon—”

“Shut the fuck up,” Billy laughed, wheezing with pain.  “Why are you...why’d you—” he mumbled, as Steve set his jaw determinedly and wrested him up from the floor, dragging Heavy-Ass-Hargrove out to his bed, and tipping him into the sheets.  

The bandages were an adventure, with Billy falling asleep--and he finally fell asleep again right on Steve, as Steve tried to get him dried off.  

He didn’t wake up for hours, until Steve was sitting up in bed, on the phone with Hopper.  Billy blinked big blue disoriented eyes up at him, frowning grouchily, and Steve held his finger up to his lips, listening to Hopper explain the situation.

“It’s okay,” Steve hissed to Billy.  “You’re with me, you’re safe.”

Billy stilled, watching him, then snorted a laugh as his eyes drifted shut.  “...’kay, Harrington, he mumbled, sighing contentedly as he curled into the warm pillows.

Steve smiled, and rolled his eyes.

[mettywiththenotes]

320 bits I wanna talk about

Iieda looks like he’s doing the *inhale* before the BOI IF YOU DON’T- meme. Something along the lines of “BOI IF YOU DON’T GET YOUR ASS BACK TO UA-” kind of thing lol.

He holding something in definitely. Maybe charging up for an attack? Idk but he sure seems concentrated

Actually, Iieda seems kinda considering. Maybe he’s weighing up if he should join in the fight, as if he’s asking “Will I have to fight Midoriya, if it comes down to it? Or can the others handle this?” Something tells me he doesn’t want to have to weigh in on the fight. Maybe tear into Izuku verbally, but fight? No I don’t think he wants to do that

But also, I find it interesting that that black panel of text is under him and then it cuts to Bakugou yelling at Izuku. I mean, it could very well be Bakugou thinking that, but if that’s so, then why is Iieda the first person we see?

So, I think it’s Iieda thinking that. Tensions are rising, it seems. I’m expecting his turn to be full of a lot of emotion, or at least trying to get across to Izuku that he feels betrayed but mostly just wants Izuku to come back home.

I don’t really know what’ll happen with Iieda exactly, but I’m totally interested to see what happens

I know Bakugou has problems with his emotions and words and stuff, but I also think here he’s trying to anger Izuku in order to get him to fight back, maybe so he’s more angry than flexible in a fight, so the end result would be Izuku getting too angry to predict anything and eventually tripping up, and that’s when 1A could capture him.

The one thing to remember about Izuku is that allowing him to think is going to be the opponent’s downfall. We saw in the Kacchan VS Deku 2 fight that Bakugou knew this and so kept attacking as much as possible so Izuku wouldn’t have time to think. Which worked, because Izuku is great at analysis, so making his “Win” attitude [getting competitive therefore putting more energy into attacking than strategy] come out over his “Save” attitude [you’re my friend and I want to help you] is kind of a weakness of his. That’s kind of one of the reasons he lost that fight.

Then again, maybe Izuku has improved since then? I don’t really know but I think enough time has passed for him to have maybe improved more on that so idk we’ll see

I really love Bakugou’s expression in that bottom screencap lol

His wound!! All bandaged up!! I wonder if there’s a scar there or smthg :O

LET’S GET READY TO RUMBLEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE

I know Enji or Bakugou probably gave them details about the multiple quirks but I still find it wild that everyone just knows now

KOUDA! MY SWEETHEART! I’m glad he’s getting a part in this too, along with Sero. Two of them who didn’t really hang around Izuku but still want him to come back :’)

Sero and Black Whip! Finally! I mean it’s not much but it’s still better than nothing

Also, seems like Sero is trying to taunt Izuku to get him to attack him maybe [same as Bakugou feeding into Izuku’s competitive side] soooo idk Sero following Bakugou’s lead? Maybe :)

Look at how,,,, innocent Izuku looks,,,,, *head in hands* AND SERO TEACHING HIM!!

I knew this lil moment would come bite me in the ass at some point, I knew and yet I’m still tearing up goddamn

That “I thought she was going to tell me its a useless hobby” bit really drives home how Izuku’s friends are 1A, that he loves them and they were the only friends he’s ever had [except Bakugou but he was a bully at the time so I’m not really gonna count him for back then]. HOW many people before UA had gone around and told Izuku his taking notes hobby was useless? SHOW me the people!

I, mettywiththenotes, will NOT allow anybody to slander one of my own!

I know it’s like the only moment Izuku and Ojiro shared, with the sports festival thing, but it’s still really sweet that Ojiro sees that Izuku stood up for him

*head in hands*

Shouldn’t this kid be more worried that he’s likely going to get kidnapped?

“Yeah this super evil villain guy has decided he wants to kidnap me and take me away, but like nbd guys really, that’s why I left in the first place! So I wouldn’t be a burden!” Somebody get this kid a fucking therapist or some shit

This is kind of a chilling and pretty scene though. The rain falling above Izuku and him looking down with these piercing green eyes likely being the only light between them. Good stuff.

Satou! Aha I like how he’s pulling all the stops, such as “I WON’T LET YOU BORROW MY INGREDIENTS FOR ERI!”

Also let’s appreciate that Satou caught Ojiro and Jirou and managed to land on a freaking traffic light. The balance on this kid! Very well done

Kaminari putting Izuku in a headlock! How cute :)

Be cuter if they weren’t trying to subdue a martyr-complex cryptid from killing himself, but still

Does Shouji have some kind of support-item?? Or could he always do the stretchy thing?? Or I guess maybe he’s just stretching his arms out like branches [like he usually does] and using them as more like a capture weapon rather than his usual stuff. I don’t think we’ve ever seen him use his heteromorph body and quirk for anything other than the 5 senses, though I could be wrong

Also Shouji remembering what Izuku said at the training camp, I’m so glad! Shouji always seems like the kind to be so protective over his friends, so I’m glad he remembered that. Then again, Izuku did compare them to freaking ALL MIGHT, but if the nice analytical kid in your class who knows your limits and strengths says you could basically beat A GOD, then that’s definitely one for the memory scrapbook lmao

“It’s nice and dark here, Dark Shadow.” Who said that?? Kami or Izuku?? I just have this mental image of Izuku being shrouded in darkness and trying to keep his eyes open from falling asleep haha

Tokoyami remembering that from all the way back then!! It makes me think that not only have Bakugou and Izuku been watching each other, but that Izuku has always had everybody’s eyes on him! Which is true, he’s inspired everyone! It goes both ways; Izuku loving his friends, and them loving him back :’)

Kami telling him to take a bath lmao I love it. Finally somebody said it

*ugly sobbing noises*

This kind of segment, with a mask falling, a space in-between and a reveal, reminds me of Compress’ reveal :) In that, the person is hiding their identity and then when the mask comes off, they reveal who they truly are underneath

While Izuku is of course determined to go after AFO and is quite the fearsome powerhouse, I really think when he takes off that mask, he’s showing who he really is underneath - a scared little boy who just wants everyone to be happy

JESUS, SHOUTO REALLY IMPROVED HIS QUIRK HUH!! LOOK AT IT, IT’S EVEN HIGHER THAN THE SKYSCRAPERS!!

“The burden placed on you... it doesn’t allow for tears, right?” He sounds so sassy here.

Kind of like saying “Oh you look upset. But that’s weird, I thought Heroes weren’t supposed to cry.” Lol it really shows here how pissed Shouto is at Izuku

But then he relents from that snark and is like “Hey, come on, we’ll share this burden. I’m not letting you go it alone, remember that we’re all here.” :’)

I love when Shouto is sassy and passive aggressive but I also love it when he shows that soft side of him

Okay, this is something I really love.

Tsuyu didn’t join the Bakugou Rescue Squad because “they would be just like Villains breaking the rules”

But here she is, learning from that regret of hers and coming right back to make sure Izuku isn’t the one struggling. She wants to be a part of this rescue squad and pick up where she left off :)

Tsuyu has always struggled with her regrets. It was shown after Kamino when she cried, but for me, I only realised this fully during the Joint Arc when she had her regrets about not making better decisions and not being quick enough [I think that was it].

“I won’t cry in such a flurry” reminds me of “I want to live a life without regret” and so that’s what she’s saying here. This won’t be another regret of hers. She wants to do her best to save her friend

“When scared, you’re allowed to tremble when it’s tough, you’re allowed to shed tears. That’s how you become a Hero like in the comics.”

I feel like that quote piggybacks off of Shouto’s “Heroes cry too”, in that, this is now 1A comforting Izuku. This is them fully coming up to him and telling him that they can help, and that he’s allowed to feel sad about his situation. Shouto’s quote was the teaser, while this entire chapter [and the rest that come to follow] is the main course.

And this is exactly who Tsuyu is. Reassuring, comforting, someone dependable. It says a lot that she’s come from not going to help in Kamino, confessing her feelings and crying about it, then coming back in a similar situation and offering her help - that she’s not willing to just let an opportunity go to better herself. I think I remember reading a few posts on her crying after Kamino and saying it was “performative” or that she just “wanted attention” or smthg like that, but I think she’s really just quite an honest person, and here she is making a great show of how she won’t let something like her guilt slow her down from being the hero she wants to be.

[A part of me feels like this is also a little more evidence with the whole People Not Caring About Bakugou’s Feelings Of Helplessness but like. I digress. It kinda counts but at the same time, it’s not what is going on at the moment.]

Seeing everyone try to reassure Izuku was lovely, and I can’t wait for the rest. I’ve seen a lot of people waiting more for Bakugou’s portion of the battle [AND YEAH DUDE ME TOO] but I really feel like Bakugou’s won’t come until like 2 chapters later or something.

Cause, if this chapter is anything to go by, we’ll probably get through Mina, Mineta, Kirishima, Hagakure and Aoyama next chapter, and then we’ll move onto the “more important” conflicts which will be Iieda and Uraraka, and if their segments are chocked with tension drama and tears, then Bakugou will have a whole chapter to himself hopefully.

Which means we’ll probably have to wait 2 more chapters until we get that sweet, sweet Bakugou chapter :( I hope I’m wrong and it comes sooner than predicted but whatever

I know for some people, that’s all they want, but personally I love these little bits that reflect on the background characters. As someone who isn’t really obsessed with the background characters but also likes them enough to appreciate their development/the little moments they have, I gotta say I really liked this :)

[xo-cuteplosion-xo]

Too late | Dazai x reader |

Too late | Mafia Dazai / dazai x fem!reader |

( A very shitty attempt at a song-fic. )

Warnings- toxic relationship (minor mentions of abuse?), death

A brunette sat on the cement. The tan folds of his coat fluttering out behind him. The wind brushed his hair from his face, it stung his eyes and brushed his skin with bitter cold air. His fingers dripped the brightest shade of crimson. His eyes had dilated and shook with shock and fear. The skin his hands desperately held, already losing its warmth. Lips stained the color, as well as the outfit that resembled his own. Those blood-stained lips coughed final words before letting go. How, how had this happened? Why had he never predicted this? Why would you ever do this?

He knew those answers like he knew his own crimes. After all, how could he forget? He’d been the reason you fell, he’d only denied it for years.

The sun fell softly along the stone. A boy, no older than 15, walked along the stone edge of a bridge. His brown locks flying within the wind whilst he adjusted the bandage over his left eye. He paid no mind to you, even as you walked behind him. Your feet carried you on the safer ground, next to the edge. It was common to find the two of them like this. You were always with him, whenever you could be at least. He never seemed to notice you were there; You didn’t mind it though. The rare moments where he did suddenly ask you questions were enough. Rushing to close the distance between you and him, you caught a glance of his eyes darted to the side. He was looking at you, the single eye that showed seemed puzzled, before he parted his lips to talk to you; His arms opened at the same time. Skipping around steps, he smiled, “Hey, why are you still following me, woman? Don’t you have a better hobby than stalking me?” so he did notice you at times.

Flustered you froze before chuckling with a light hum. “No, not really Dazai-san. I think you're interesting! You're the only one I can't read.” you were referring to your ability. It wasn’t much, so you weren't too high up in the ranks. You could read thoughts, see their feelings in the form of aura, and manipulate that aura. So far, you could make people freeze up and lose themself in an overdose of emotions. Also known as individual illusions created by their auras; things only they could see. It was hard to believe you were even in the mafia. Your bubbly appearance and lack of interest in killing made you look harmless. You never killed, but when you worked with another they sure had an opening to kill.

Dazai leaned down so he leveled with you. “I wonder, have you ever thought of using that ability to induce such outrageous depression, one acts on it?” blushing you took several steps back shaking your head.

“N-no, sir! I d-don’t think I could do that. Well, if Dazai-san really wanted me to, I-I could try it for him!” What were you saying? Knowing this demon prodigy, you’d probably end up not meeting the expectation and ending up punished. Though, would that be so bad?

He puffed his cheeks out, jumping from the edge to land in front of you. With a half-smile, he flicked your forehead. “You keep doing the opposite of what I predict. I really can’t get a read on you.” turning away you covered your face.

“I-is that a compliment?” you mumbled, looking through your fingers. He shrugged, jumping back to the ledge. His eyes lost their glimmer as he looked down. He seemed to be judging the distance; With a heavy sigh, he looked back to the sky.

“If only this was a little higher. I think falling into the water and dying right away, without the pain of falling to the ground, would be okay. I’d drown unconscious, how peaceful that would be.” you didn’t respond as he turned and began walking again.

~

Year after year you walked by his side, growing with him. Slowly that bubbly gaze began to fade ever so slightly. The fun-filled times like the day on the bridge no longer existed.

My head is haunting me and my heart feels like a ghost

Standing next to the demon prodigy you stretched out your hand with a sigh. “Ability: vortex of emotions.” from the shadows you worked alongside him. The enemy's hands reached their head. A perching scream echoing as they turned their gun to themselves. Looking to the side your eyes met the brunettes; They were colder than they were a year ago. Sighing, he raised his pistol and shot. He pushed past you, and you followed numbly.

I need to feel something, 'cause I'm still so far from home

Entering the box he called his home, his hands grabbed your waist pulling you towards him. His fingers lifting your chin. The flutter of your heart pounded against your chest, the closer his face came to yours. “You really should stop following me everywhere. If you won’t at least try to kill.”

Cross your heart and hope to die. Promise me you'll never leave my side

Nodding as he released you, he sat at his desk. “Mori won’t be happy that we clocked out so early.” he leaned back groaning. “Found a new suicide method? I don’t want to deal with his annoying voice tomorrow!” his older persona slipped through. The light in his eyes spread before it disappeared with your silence. Yet despite that, there was a caring hint to his posture. The way his hands moved softly, how he traced your bow. How he exhaled with a sigh when you closed the door

Show me what I can't see when the spark in your eyes is gone

~

Another year went by with a soft ease. You stood in Mori's office, a blank expression on your face. You were sure you were dead. Messing up like this, letting somebody get away. You were shaking, unsure why your breaths still rang. The doors opened to the brunette mafioso. Dressed in all black, a short ginger walked at his side. The way your emotions suddenly changed was unnoticed by everybody but Dazai. His eyes set in glares as you looked away. Your heart raced, why was it you still felt like this? He treated you as a pawn, yet you still ached to kiss him. Mori blamed your failure on Dazai’s lack of discipline with you. “I’ve been more than lenient with how she follows you around. If this happens again, it will be you who pays the price Dazai.'' Why did this have to happen in front of the ginger? His eyes looked at you with sympathy. It was weird to see such a thing. Dazai rolled his eyes stepping closer to the ginger as his eyes darted to you. Puffing your cheeks out you looked away.

Once you were in his office, he practically pulled you by the ear. Pushing you to the floor with his frustration. “I don’t understand why I keep you around! All you seem to do is put me in situations that bore me to death!”

You've got me on my knees I'm your one man cult

You looked up with begging eyes. “Please, I’m sorry Dazai-san! Please forgive me! I’ll do better! Please don’t leave me.” he was the first person to ever make you feel real emotions. Fear, excitement, lust, love, heartache, despair. He gave it all to you.

Cross my heart and hope to die Promise you I'll never leave your side

It was an unexpected look, an unexpected plea. His eyes showed excitement. “There, there’s the reason! You can’t stop doing the opposite of my expectations, every time I think you’ll do something, you manage to shock me, even in this kind of situation! I wonder, would you commit suicide if I died? It would be so unexpected!” his voice was full of wonder as he lifted your chin using the front of his foot.

Looking at him he smirked. He'd known, all along, about your feelings. He teased you all the time, but maybe he could finally get an expected reaction from you. It would be possible to toy with you. Maybe then he’d be satisfied with you. “Would you ever be only mine? Something only for my eyes?” with wide eyes you nodded.

Cause I'm telling you you're all I need I promise you you're all I see

With a smile, you brought your hands to press against your chest. With a desperate smile, your eyes filled with that childish light from when you were 15. “Even if I'm only being used for your satisfaction, it would be all I need! You're the only one for me." Once more he was shocked by the response. Nearly losing the balance he had, his hand reached to his face a soft snicker leaving his lips.

“You’re utterly helpless.” he hummed, removing his foot from under your chin. “Come here darling~” he was certainly stressed today. A little fun wouldn’t hurt, right? “Tell me you’ll never leave.” he hummed holding your chin within his fingers. The blush on your cheeks darkening in your complexion.

'Cause I'm telling you you're all I need I'll never leave

His lips met yours. Shivering you closed your eyes, letting a tear fall. You wished he truly loved you back.

~

Another year passed, you stayed by him no matter what he did. He was crueler than ever. He often left you at night to go hang out in a bar. Those nights were lonely but a ginger often peeped in to see you. “You look like hell.” he would always tell you how messed up you looked. “Why do you stay by him?”

The images passed by your head. The boy you fell in love with. The young 15-year-old. The one with a smile that would show itself here and there. The young boy who jokes around, the carefree one. You picture the feeling of his fingers over yours. Cold yet so warm in those years.

So you can drag me through hell If it meant I could hold your hand

“I love him.” you hummed watching the male drop a bottle of wine in your lap. He walked out leaving the gift. He knew you understood how cruel he was. He had never really pitied anybody before but you… you were something he pitied. A demon prodigy's toy, your relationship was nothing more than toxic.

I will follow you 'cause I'm under your spell And you can throw me to the flames

Sipping on the wine you drank yourself drunk. “I love him… he loves me. I love him. He loves me, I know he does. I’ve seen some softness in those harsh eyes.” you wiped the tears looking up to the ceiling. What had you gotten yourself into? Why did your heart have to play you like this?

I will follow you, I will follow you

~

He stood looking so conflicted, broken, and unsure. It wasn’t the first time you saw him without the bandages but it was the first time your dull lifeless eyes saw him this vulnerable. “Figures, you do follow me everywhere.” his voice was blank of anything; You could no longer read his voice.

Come sink into me and let me breathe you in

It was true, you needed him, so of course you followed him everywhere. “Go, we’re done! I’m not going back! This is all Mori's fault! He’d be alive if it weren't for inviting that damn organization here!” he was upset, yet he seemed so confused. Like a child, he had no grip on what he was feeling. Was he angry, grieving, sad? He couldn’t tell.

You ran to him wrapping arms around him. “I will go with you! I will follow you!”

I'll be your gravity, you be my oxygen.

You'd hold him down during this pain. You’d help him achieve whatever it was that he needed. “Even if it is death, I will not leave.”

So dig two graves 'cause when you die I swear I'll be leaving by your side

With a soft sigh, he pushed you away. “That changes nothing, follow if you have to but I never loved you.” you backed away smiling you curtsied.

“I know Dazai, I know you never did and never could. You are a demon prodigy, one that can’t understand his own feelings. I wish I could help, but your gift cancels mine out.” your voice was sweet as honey, but he shed you no more glances as he walked away. Following him, you sighed.

~

Two years later your empty eyes sat at an agency desk, you'd bought an outfit to match his. Those feelings refused to leave you even after all this time. They surged more than ever. He was like his 15-year-old self again, different but at least there was life in his eyes. He laughed and flirted just as he did those years ago.

So you can drag me through hell If it meant I could hold your hand

You looked to the cafe waitress’s hand, then your own. How you wished to be her. You stood up, walking out and to the office of the agency, sitting in your chair, Kyouka walked up to you. She once had your eyes. Dull, lifeless, broken, but then Atsushi seemed to save her. “Do you love him?” she asked tilting her head as you looked from your phone to her, you sighed.

“Yes, but I'll suffer for life over this. I had my chance and now it’s gone.”

I will follow you 'cause I'm under your spell

She set down a small piece of paper. “I found this.'' She tried to give you a smile that wasn’t pity. They often asked why you always looked so disturbed. Maybe it was the fact you were really all alone now?

And you can throw me to the flames

A tear dropped from your eye. Something, a feeling you hadn’t had in so long. It was worth it, these empty dull years. “A tossed away letter to apologize.” you held it to your chest.

~

I will follow you so you can drag me through hell If it meant I could hold your hand

You found yourself alone on a mission. This was assigned to both you and Dazai, but he had other things he wanted to be doing. Neither of you knew how dangerous this was. He had not batted an eye at this mission. It was simple, a simple recovery mission. A ransom kidnapping, simple in and out. You could handle it without being seen. You ached for the warmth of his hand. A little light lifted your eyes as you stepped into the building.

When his fingers opened his phone accepting the call, he nearly fell over dead. The mission you were attending wasn’t a retrieval; It was a set-up. Despite how careful he'd been, somebody had found out about you. More so his past with you. His mind was too focused on you to think of who let it slip.

I will follow you 'cause I'm under your spell And you can throw me to the flames

Dazai pushed past the doors too late. This was his fault, all of this. The loss of your true self.

I will follow you, I will follow you I will follow you, I will follow you

You'd always said you would follow him. It was always like that. He had taken years to figure out why he never ignored or let you go. He was selfish, he had grown attached. Ango and Oda had even offered the thought. The thought that, maybe in this heart; swallowed by black, he loved you.

It was his turn to feel desperate as he dropped down. The blood flowing from your stomach in spurts.

So you can drag me through hell If it meant I could hold your hand

He held your hand in his while also trying to keep the bleeding down. “I’ll get help! Just hang on, we just need Yosano!” it was the first time your heart slowed like this; The first time you could read him like a book.

I will follow you 'cause I'm under your spell And you can throw me to the flames

Your hand was growing cold, your breathing staggered. You looked to be in so much pain. “No, I won't be that long. You should leave, you don’t love me so…” your voice trailed off as your head tilted to look at his cheeks. Tears… there were tears.

He shook his head pressing your hand to his forehead. “I will follow you.”

Your eyes widened as a light chuckle left your lips, “I will follow you.” you hummed, as the crimson left your lips. He was forced to watch you die in his arms. There was one final look on your face. A giant smile, a real smile on your lips. “I love you Osa…” then, you were gone.

Another, another friend in his arms, dead. No, you are more than a friend. “I… I love you.” he’d never said those words, and it didn’t matter now. There was no going back. He held you to him, cold and motionless.

Somebody from the mafia had done this. Somebody would probably be Mori… he’d dropped this low before, it wouldn’t shock him if he were trying to drive Dazai to murder again; To get him kicked from the light.

For you, for the wish left by Oda, he wouldn’t let himself fall that low. He’d be strong.

[stayndays]

𝐢𝐧𝐟𝐚𝐭𝐮𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝 - 𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐠 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐧

my gift to @wingkkun for @kafenetwork‘s holiday treats event!

genres & tropes - fluff, minor angst, comedy, misunderstanding(!!!), magical boarding school au (hogwarts but not really), dorm neighbors au, best friends to lovers au, shy!chan, extroverted!reader, gender neutral reader, chan’s pov

disclaimer - the entire fic is based around the fact that the reader was kinda accidentally drugged with a potion, two swear words, chan likes an unnamed female character (but hey in this case he likes everybody!!)

word count - 5.1k (uhm?? what the fuck?? this is coming from the blurb writer guys what the hell happened)

summary - bang chan does not have a crush on you. actually, he has a crush on his partner in potions class, and decides to do something about it… until it goes all wrong, and the liquid of a love potion is running down your throat. now, chan has to deal with your lovesick antics for a week while trying not to become infatuated with you himself. spoiler alert: it’s a lot harder than it looks.

a/n - it is i, penguin anon, the dude who made that survey for stayblr writers, a friend of your own friends, yes hi lol KJFSKDF honestly, this could be a very confusing fic to some people, as some things don’t line up, i will admit that! that’s mainly because i frantically put this together in the last two weeks while preparing for midterm exams, so not all the ideas i had in mind lined up correctly. regardless, i hope you enjoy this, especially you kai ^^ 

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝐳𝐞𝐫𝐨, 𝐚 𝐟𝐞𝐰 𝐝𝐚𝐲𝐬 𝐛𝐞𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐞

Bang Chan does not have a crush on you.

You’re his best friend, his next door dorm neighbor at the boarding school he goes to. He comes to you for one subject, while you come to him for another. You’re the person he sits next to at lunch, and the counterpart to his timid personality. You are anything but his crush.

He does, however, have a crush on the cute girl he’s partners with in potions class, aka, not you.

“So,” you start off, tapping your feet repetitively on the wooden floor of Chan’s dormitory, the chair you’re sitting on face away from the desk it accompanies. “Let me get this straight.”

Chan nods for you to continue, playing with the blanket threads on his bed to anxiously wait for your response.

“You’re going to make a love potion for your crush to drink?” you confirm with him, to which he nods, lips pressed together tightly. Chan can easily tell how flabbergasted you are at his simple, yet elaborate idea, wheels turning in your head. “But this could go wrong in so many ways! How are you going to get her to drink it anyways? How are you even going to get the ingredients to make the potion?”

Chan scratches the back of his ear, which is slowly growing red by the second. A nervous grin slowly growing on his face before he answers you. “You see... that’s where you come in.”

He notices the deadpan on his best friend’s face and winces.

“...You want me to steal the ingredients, don’t you?”

Chan nods timidly.

It’s not Chan’s fault really, Chan believes, as you’re known for being a master at being sneaky. Not only can his own clumsy hands barely lift up a pencil before dropping it onto the ground, he has to be a role model to the younger students! It’s only right for you to do the job instead.

“Fine!” you throw your hands up into the air in exaggeration. “What do I get in return, though?”

“Hmm...” Chan ponders on your question, tapping his chin in thought. “Banana milk for a week?”

“Pleasure doing business with you, sir.”

𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝐨𝐧𝐞, 𝐦𝐨𝐧𝐝𝐚𝐲 

Bang Chan has made a huge mistake. It’s the kind of mistake that’ll affect his entire school year, undoubtedly. The kind of mistake that he’ll scream out at 2 am into his pillow, not only because it’s highly embarrassing, but also because it could ruin everything.

It all starts with a carton of banana milk.

The plan, originally, was quite simple. Chan had seen his crush fold open a carton of banana milk in class and gulp it down right in front of his eyes. Well, while he pretended to be busy looking up something in his textbook, at least. By gifting her banana milk, that was actually drained out and replaced with the love potion he brewed, not only would he seem like a nice person to her, she would be infatuated with love for him. 

Two birds hit with one stone. Simple as that.

Until you came in, strolling down the hallway Chan was leaning his back on, eyeing the pastel yellow carton in his hands. He knows that his first period is potions class, he knows that you greet him every morning with that same smile on your face while he waits outside for the classroom doors to open. However, he should’ve known that openly holding a container of banana milk in his hands for everybody passing through the hallway to see was not a good idea.

And that’s how Chan ended up where he is right now.

“Hey, Chan!” You approach him with a grin, hair thrown back messily. “First of many banana milks you got for me there?”

Chan’s breath gets caught in your throat while you look up at him expectedly. His eyes continue to shift over from the paperboard box in his right hand to your bold eyes.

“Um- Er- I-” His fingers curl tighter around the drink, but his voice just so happens to fail him out of all the times in the world.

And then his head fails him, and he nods out of pressure.

He watches your eyes light up, and your hands lightly touching his own as you snatch the drink from his possession.

You rip open the opening to the carton. Pressing your lips against the entrance, you pour the drink into your mouth and down your throat, all in one go, right in front of Chan. His mouth is slightly agape at your bold actions, his head screaming at him to tell you what you just did in hopes that you’ll snap out of it before it’s too late, yet he stays silent.

“Hmm, the liquid is more like water than milk, but at least it still tastes like banana!” You gently crush the carton before patting Chan on the shoulder. His eyes widen when you pause, and then laugh in a dazed manner. It’s almost as if he can see the hearts forming in your eyes.

“Thank you, Channie. See you at lunch!” You wave him off in a flirtatious manner, something he’s never seen you do to anybody in all the years he’s known you, and his heart pounds faster with worry.

Soon enough, he falls out of his stunned trance and presses his back against the wall shamefully, slowly sliding down it. He’s too anxious to care about the weird stares he’s getting from other students going down the hallway, curling himself up into a ball.

“WhydidIdothatwhydidIdothatwhydidIdothatwhydidIdothat-”

“Chan?”

Chan’s head shoots up from his position on the ground, only to lock eyes with his crush’s worried eyes. He gasps quietly before rocketing up from the floor, brushing himself off, startling his crush. “Y-Yes?”

“Why were you slumped down on the floor like that?” He watches her scanning his face while he bunches up the sweater he’s wearing with his hands. “Your face is really red too… should I take you to the nurse’s office?”

“Oh! Uhm, no, it’s okay. I feel fine. Class is starting in a minute, regardless,” Chan reassures her, and fortunately to him, she doesn’t question it any further and changes the subject of their conversation.

Yet, his back of his mind sends him flying back to what happened previously. The flashbacks of you drinking that love potion right in front of his eyes sends a pit down his stomach, churning it to make him feel sick and lightheaded. He ponders about how much he screwed up this time, thanks to his stupid brain and timid decisions.

That love potion you drank was not meant for you.

You are not his crush.

𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝐭𝐰𝐨, 𝐭𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐝𝐚𝐲 

Bang Chan is a fool, a dunce, the embodiment of stupidity.

At least, according to his two closest friends besides you: Lee Minho and Seo Changbin.

“You’re such an idiot, Chan!” Minho cackles as he bangs his fist repeatedly on the wooden table of the school’s dining hall, accidentally sending his hot chocolate flying all over the place as he flinches.

“I have to agree with Minho on this one,” Changbin, who’s passive behavior is the opposite of Minho’s wild personality, tells the oldest boy. “You really messed up on this one.” He continues to flip through the pages of his textbook after cleaning up Minho’s mess with his wand.

Chan groans, letting himself fall onto the table pathetically, head first. He covers his eyes with his hands and shouts in agony, making Minho laugh even harder. Eventually, once the rowdy student calms down, he shakes Chan’s shoulder to get him to sit back up again. “No, but seriously, what are you gonna do now? They’ll be completely obsessed with you for the next couple of days.”

“A week, actually,” Changbin corrects, flipping to a specific page of his potions textbook and displaying it to the two. “A love potion's lasting effects depend on the amount you give the drinker.”

“And a milk carton holds like, a liter of liquid? So if you multiply those numbers, it’ll for sure last an entire week, which started yesterday,” Minho points out with his finger, directing Chan’s eyes to the info on the page. 

Chan lets out a deep exhale, scratching his scalp as he processed the information. “So, do any of you have advice for what I’m supposed to do?”

“Don’t look at me-”

“I know, Changbin, you’re too focused on your studies to find a partner. I’m mainly asking Minho, our designated player in our year.”

“Well,” Minho cracks his knuckles before answering. “I’ve never accidentally drugged somebody with a love potion before, so unfortunately you’re all on your own. Fortunately, however, Y/N’s coming right your way!” Minho points cheekily to behind Chan, making him whip his head around.

And there you are, walking right towards them.

“Channie!” you stroll on over to the trio of boys with a pep in your step and a grin on your face. “Let’s go to Insanis!”

Chan’s ears perk up at the name of his favorite cafe near campus, always serving the best scones and cinnamon rolls he’s ever had, and the fact that you know his love for the place. However, he comes back to the realization that you’re under the effects of a love potion, so he shakes off the blush that’s threatening to appear on his cheeks.

Slowly starting to feel under pressure at the fact that you’re waiting for his response, he nods his head repeatedly with a shrug, packing up his belongings spread out on the slightly dirty, wooden surface. Your face lights up at his agreement, and you eagerly wait for him to stand up. Chan waves off his two friends, ignoring Minho’s snarky smile and Changbin’s desire to laugh right then and there, and exits the dining hall with you holding his hand.

You’re going to be hard to deal with these next few days, he thinks.

𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐞𝐞, 𝐰𝐞𝐝𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐝𝐚𝐲

Chan thinks you’re going crazy.

You’re acting like a drunk person whenever you see him, completely helpless of your own mind. Then again, you’re the one who drank the love potion a couple days ago.

He just didn’t realize how strong of a potion it was.

“Channie!!” you holler out to him from behind, crunching snow beneath your feet as you try and keep up with his pace. “Let’s go into the snow! Come on!”

He turns around to your grinning face, eyes drifting over to the bobble on the beanie you’re wearing that’s covered in snow. You point excitedly to the thick snow next to the outdoor path you two were walking along. “But we have astronomy class in half an hour, and I have to meet up with my potions classmate during that time, remember?” Chan objects, giving you an uncertain look.

You whine dramatically with a pout, stomping to him and grabbing his wooly coat, yanking him with you. “It’ll just be for five minutes!” Leading him off the pathway, the two of you entered the snow covered grass field. Chan shakes his head at your childish, yet heartfelt actions, watching you turn back and fall onto the snow back first without hesitation. 

“You know I’ll get sick if I-”

“You’re underestimating my healing skills, Bang. Now get in the snow and freeze your ass off with me,” you point to the snow below you, slowly feelings your fingers become numb despite the knitted gloves you’re wearing.

Chan breathes out a laugh at your desperate attempt to get him to join you, shaking his head as he finally accepts your offer. Unlike you, he slowly sits on the ground at first and then lies down on his back hesitantly. The cold feeling of the ice on his back makes him shiver, and you giggle at his reaction while making a snow angel. 

The two of you stay like that for a few minutes, taking in the sudden silence of the campus grounds and the snow falling on each other’s faces. Chan’s body is as stiff as a board by now, but he endures it for the sake of your enjoyment. That is, until he finally decides to get up after checking the analog watch on his wrist.

“Hey! Do we really have to go now?” you yell at him with wide eyes, making Chan roll his own.

“Yes, Y/N,” he pulls you up from the snow, turning you around so he can brush off the snow sticking onto your back. “Now I have to meet my classmate in just a few minutes.” 

“Why her?” you whine once more. “Do you like her more than me?”

Your sudden question makes Chan pause for a few seconds, before shaking off the feeling of his heartbeat slowly gaining speed. “D- Don’t worry about it. Now let’s go.”

“Hey! Answer my question!” 

You realize that not even Chan knows the answer to your question.

𝐝𝐚𝐲 ��𝐨𝐮𝐫, 𝐭𝐡𝐮𝐫𝐬𝐝𝐚𝐲

Chan is a shy person when it comes to affection.

This day, however, he realizes that you are the exact opposite of him.

You and him have a routine every Thursday where you’d come into his dormitory at 7 O’ clock sharp to study until his brain was filled with herbs and spices he has to memorize for his gardening elective. It’s not his fault he didn’t get into the magical musics class like he wanted to, and got stuck with becoming a botanist instead. You, on the other hand, usually had trouble with your spells class, always pronouncing the Latin words slightly off. The two of you would study until it’s pitch dark outside, and then Chan would walk you back to your own room.

However, Chan already anticipated how this study session would be different.

He flinches slightly when he hears a set of knocks on his door already, checking the clock on his studying desk. Chan shakes his head out of disbelief, and opens the door without even checking the peephole.

“Y/N, you’re ten minutes early, why are you-“

“Chan!” Your face lights up and wraps your arms tightly around Chan’s torso, catching the boy off guard. “I missed you.”

“You- You saw me yesterday though,” Chan tries to tell you, checking the hallways just in case other students were around to possibly witness this. “and the day before, and the day after that, and-”

“Yeah, yeah, but even if I don’t see you for a couple hours, I still miss you,” you admit with a sudden, shy tone, burying your face into his chest. Chan feels himself flare up at your actions, catching him off guard. Not once have you ever expressed affection like this towards him, always settling for high fives and fist bumps, possibly even a side hug if you’re feeling nice. 

“Just uh, come in. I heard from my potions classmate that our upcoming quiz for spells is quite hard,” Chan makes you let go of the hug against your will, and awkwardly guides you inside of his dorm. 

“Ahh, why do you always mention her?” You question him with curiosity flowing through your voice, sitting down on his bed casually and tossing your schoolwork next to you. Meanwhile, Chan goes back to his spot on his desk chair. “It’s like you’re obsessed with her.”

Chan’s ears flare up at your remark, but at the same time, he fights the urge to call you out on your antics for the past few days. Thinking about it, it definitely wouldn’t do any good for you, and you needed his help for your upcoming quiz. “Nothing you need to worry about, Y/N.”

“But-”

“Let’s get to studying,” he urges for you to start with him, to which you roll your eyes at, but place your textbook in your lap regardless. Chan smiles softly at your willingness, and gets to work as well.

Typically, the statement “study until it’s dark outside” applies for at least three fourths of the year, especially since you two tend to stay on campus for the summer simply because you both liked the area. However, once winter rolls around and the snow starts falling, the sun is up for a lot less time, sometimes even disappearing by dinner. Chan knows this well, so the two of you instead set a timer for two hours and pray that you won’t get distracted by each other’s antics.

What Chan did forget is how jumbled up you get once the sun goes down.

“I’m already sleepy...” you mumble out behind Chan’s back, rubbing your eyes with your index fingers. 

Chan scratches his head, contemplating his next move. To be fair, it’s quite difficult to get a love sick person to do what you want, even if you’re the person they’re in love with. “But Y/N, we’ve only been studying for an hour and a half.” He decides to move his stuff to his bed to join you, his joints already becoming stiff from sitting on such an uncomfortable chair.

“Yeah but I’ve had a long day-” you lean over so you can rest your head on Chan’s shoulder. “Even though I wanna spend more time with you, I kinda just wanna sleep...”

Chan freezes up, cursing you for being so sleepy at times like these, cursing you for being so affectionate towards him these past few days, cursing you for being so-

“Fine, you can sleep.”

You smile with a daze, closing your eyes. Mumbling a small thanks of gratitude, it’s the last words Chan hears you say before you drift off. Chan finds himself not being able to focus with the weight on his shoulder, twirling the pencil in his hand back and forth. He lets out a sigh, at last realizing how he’ll never get another word written down in his situation, and uses his wand to place his work away and close the light. Pulling up a spare blanket for the both of you to share, he finally closes his eyes as well.

Until Chan realizes that if his crush did the exact same gesture to him, he wouldn’t treat her nearly as well as he did for you.

You don’t know that, though.

𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝐟𝐢𝐯𝐞, 𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐝𝐚𝐲

Bang Chan is not good with love. 

If it hasn’t already been clear enough. Although he’s had quite a few crushes in his teenage life, including the one he has right now, he’s never had the confidence to confess or god forbid ask somebody on a date.

So why not ask the person who’s under the spell of a love potion for advice?

Sure, it’s a far stretch, even Minho agrees, but maybe, just maybe, Chan could get something good out of this week.

He catches you off guard one day, bright and early before class, while the two of you were heading to your locker. 

“Hey Y/N,” Chan asks you out of the blue while waving through classmates left and right. Thinking about it, it was a miracle that nobody was talking about Chan’s mishap and spreading it around. “Would you consider yourself... good at love?”

He watches you almost choke on your own spit with a worried look. You turn to him after clearing your throat with an almost offended expression on your face. “Why are you asking?”

“Well, uh, I wanna try confess to somebody..”

“What?! Who? Tell me,” you blurt out without a second thought, staring at his side profile with wide eyes. “Is it your potions classmate?”

Chan is quick to notice the gazes of your fellow classmates after you raise your voice, motioning for you to keep it down. “It’s nothing for you to worry about! I just need some advice on how to do it, you know?”

“Hmm, well...” you take a pause to think, resisting the urge to pout. “You realize you’re asking somebody who’s never confessed either, right?”

“Still, you’re more.. extroverted? Than me, so you must know more than me,” Chan shrugs, feeling his neck grow hot while he tries to explain to you why he asking you, not anybody else, without telling you the actual reason.

Your shoulders slump down in defeat, “Fine. Just- uh- ask them on a date first? If you just confess straight away, you’re most likely to be rejected because they may not like you,” you explain to him, your voice getting shakier and more quiet as time goes on. “At least if you ask them out first, they can start to like you at the date.”

“Okay.. I can do that,” Chan scratches his red ears, already feeling the queasiness in his stomach just at the thought of being rejected. “Right? Hopefully? Probably?”

You simply hum in response, looking down when Chan turns his head to get a look at you. He holds his breath out of instinct, afraid of a sudden outburst coming from you, but nothing comes. Most likely, Chan thinks, you’re more than upset because you’re not the one he’s confessing to.

It’s a poor idea, and was a poor idea in the first place.

You’re jealous, and Chan can tell.

𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝐬𝐢𝐱, 𝐬𝐚𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐝𝐚𝐲

Chan tends to forget instructions.

So when he’s left out in the snow after his crush rejects him, your words from the previous day only then come back to him.

“I’m sorry,” his crush frowns once the words leave her mouth. “I don’t see you the same way.” She shakes her head, and Chan’s shoulders slump down as she turns her heel to walk away.

The feeling Chan experiences is neither his heart shattering into a billion pieces, nor the emotion of relief. It’s in between those two, for a reason Chan can’t figure out straight away.

It’s somehow not heartbreak, yet Chan still wants answers.

“Oh, uhm, one last question,” Chan perks up at the last second, his crush whipping around at the last second. “Why? Why do you not like me?”

His crush stares at him for a few moments, lips slightly apart. Then she laughs.

“It’s because of Y/N.”

“Y/N?”

“I can tell you both like each other. This week, I’ve noticed that your friend has been acting different, and although I saw that you were kind of uncomfortable with it at first, I could see you warming up to it,” she smiles. “Chan, you and Y/N have something that I will never have with you, it’s a given. I hope you come to realize that, if you haven’t already.” She nods one last time, bidding farewell to Chan for the day, and drifts farther and farther until Chan can’t see her anymore.

Later that night, when Chan reflects on his crush’s explanations, staring at the ceiling, he wonders if it would’ve been different if he listened to you more carefully. Maybe he should’ve slowed down, and instead of practically shouting at his crush that he likes her, he should’ve spoken more properly and asked her out on a date like what you said. Maybe then, he’d take her to Insanis, which happens to be his cafe of choice that you and him go to almost every week. And maybe, him and his crush would play in the snow and make snow angels happily, like how you two did a couple days ago...

No. Chan’s crush is right.

His head’s thoughts are slowly being all about you.

You, on the other hand, believe that you’ve lost him.

𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝐬𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧, 𝐬𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐚𝐲

Chan loves you. 

No matter how hard he tries to diminish his feelings for you that has grown in the only the past few days, he can’t stop himself.

From your happiness when playing in the snow, to the way you become cuddly when the moon comes up, to the explanation his own crush gave him. 

It all lines up.

“Dumbass,” Changbin speaks up bluntly when Chan reveals his realization to his two guy friends while walking to the dining hall for breakfast. Minho laughs in response as Chan rolls his eyes.

“I gotta admit,” Minho swings his arms around the two, bringing them in closely. “You only just realize now? It’s impressive how dense you are.”

“Dense? Am I really?” 

“Yes,” Changbin and Minho both say at the same time, and for once, Chan can only laugh. The trio approaches the dining table, while Chan scans the room standing up for your familiar face.

Minho, takes notice of this fairly quickly, “So, what’s your next move? It’s still a gamble, though.”

“Hmm? How come?” Chan genuinely asks his friend.

“Did you fall in love with the Y/N you’ve known this entire time, or only the Y/N you’ve seen this past week?” 

Minho’s question makes Chan silent for quite some time, sitting down slowly on the dining benches. His two friends patiently wait for his answer, Changbin in particular already digging into his breakfast when Chan finally responds.

“I think I’ve always liked them, I just never realized it.”

To Chan’s utter surprise, they both nod their heads in agreement. Changbin swallows the food in his mouth before commenting. “I think you’re right. Maybe you just had that crush on your potions classmate to state that you and Y/N are  just friends to everybody, without even meaning it yourself.”

Minho elaborates further, “And she said that you and Y/N have something between the two of you that’s unique? Then she must’ve implied that you guys have this bond that makes you two inseparable.”

Chan simply hums, taking in the information. He’s glad to know that he’s right for once, finally having a plan on what to do next. He sighs in relief, grabbing the nearest plate of food and stacking it onto his own plate, digging in. Yet, Chan still wonders where you were that morning, and how he only saw you later in the day hanging out with your other group of friends. Not even talking to him once.

You simply weren’t sure anymore.

𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝐞𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭, 𝐦𝐨𝐧𝐝𝐚𝐲 

Chan has not seen you for the entire day.

It’s supposed to be the day that the potion wears off from your body, and you can finally go back to your normal self (despite Chan’s wishes), but Chan has yet to see you. Not once at the dining hall, or the hallway potion’s class is in, or even with your other group of friends who join you in history class. 

Fortunately, though, he’s able to overhear your dorm roommate, who says that you’ve refused to go to class today for reasons they don’t know. So Chan takes matters into his own hands, considering that nothing eventful ever happens in herbology class on Mondays, he decides to skip the period to head to your dorm room and approach you, with the help of your roommate giving him a spare key to enter.

The moment Chan walks into your room, a sudden chill goes down his spine, most likely because of the cold air. The lights are closed, with only the morning sun’s brightness seeping through the cracks of the window. The curtains that hang over your bunk bed, as you sleep on the bottom, are blocking his view from where you are. He closes the door gently, but makes sure he’s loud enough to alert you that he’s there. Peeking through the curtains, he sees your body covered in heaps of blankets, smushing your face into your head pillow.

“Hey,” Chan takes a seat at the foot of your bed, taking in your mellow appearance. “Are you okay? Are you sick?”

It takes you a minute to answer, and Chan starts to wonder if you’re actually awake right now, until you speak up. 

“It’s not like you to skip class, Channie,” you choose to say instead of answering his questions. You appear from your spot in your pillow, gazing up at him with a tired look on your face. “What’s that in your hands?”

“Oh, it’s- uh- banana milk. It’s for you,” Chan extends the hand he’s holding the drink out for you to take, but you don’t budge. 

“Are you sure that one doesn’t have a love potion in it instead of milk?”

Chan gets taken aback at your sudden theory. “You knew it was a love potion?”

“I could tell, even through the effects of it,” you state, finally sitting up and gently taking the milk from his hands. “Don’t feel bad though, since you’re here, I might as well tell you something.”

“During that entire week of being under that spell, I learned that-” you pause briefly. “If you already love somebody, your love for them basically strengthens by ten. It becomes something unstoppable, and you start to unravel your feelings for that person instead of hiding them. Originally, I wanted to kept those feelings inside of me forever, but because I accidentally drank that potion, look where I am now. Have you caught on yet?”

Chan could only stare at you, even after putting the puzzle pieces together. You tense up at his reaction, only fearing the worst to come out of this.

His next words surprise the both of you, however.

“That’s the best side of you, though,” Chan admits without a second thought, and you have to do a double take to see if your best friend, known for being shy and timid, really said that.

“C-Care to elaborate?” you stutter out through your shock, a light tint of red spreading throughout Chan’s body.

“The best side of you is the one you showed me last week. The one where you let your guard down instead of keeping up your confident persona,” Chan explains hesitantly and slowly, gripping his fingers tightly with each sentence. Then, he suddenly smiles, then grins, something you rarely ever see coming from him. 

“That’s the side I fell in love with.”

“Love?!”

“Mhm.”

“Really? You’re not playing with me right?”

“Mhm!”

You groan loudly once it finally hits you, pressing your forehead against his shoulder. Chan starts giggling at your reaction, the both of you finally feeling at peace with one another. It’s as if all the awkwardness and tension from the last week drifted away slowly, with Chan’s now ex-crush leaving his field of vision, only for you to come in at the right time. He wonders how Minho and Changbin will react once he reveals that he finally got into a relationship, and how the rest of the school year will pan out with you by his side.

“So,” Chan starts to snicker uncontrollably. “You really are infatuated with me, huh?”

“Ya, Bang Chan! That’s the first time you’ve ever teased me. Ever!” your eyes widen in utter surprise, punching his arm slightly as Chan laughs harder, you joining him soon after. You nudge him one last time, coming up with something to make him as equally flustered as you are right now.

“But doesn’t that mean you’re infatuated with me too?”

@skzwriternet​ @stayracha-net​ pls reblog my fic for once i beg u 

[elyvorg]

So… I was talking about aspec V3 headcanons? Well then, let me lay down the facts.

Maki Harukawa is on the aromantic spectrum. Yes, even though she explicitly develops a crush on Kaito, and no, I’m not trying to dispute that part.

This is basically canon. Let me tell you why.

Maki is aro

For this, we need to consider the conversation Maki has with Shuichi in the first training session in chapter 4, while Kaito has temporarily disappeared to the bathroom. On one level, this conversation exists to be the only actual meaningful indication* that Maki has romantic feelings for Kaito until she goes and confesses them. Someone like Maki wouldn’t care about asking Shuichi if he “liked” Kaede (in that annoying loaded meaning of the word “like” that specifically refers to romantic attraction) unless she was trying to come to terms with the idea that she also “likes” someone else in the same way, and the only plausible candidate for that is Kaito.

But even more striking about this conversation, far more so than the general implication that Maki would only bother asking this if she happened to be crushing on a certain spiky-haired space dork, is the way Maki approaches and thinks about this whole topic in general. Take a look:

Maki:  “Well… I assumed you didn’t, because that would be weird. […] Liking someone you just met… especially in a situation like this…”

Shuichi:  “… Then tell me… under what circumstances is liking someone *not* weird?”

Maki:  “…Huh? I… don’t know. I don’t… really understand what that is.”

I, as an aromantic person myself, fully agree with Maki that it just seems weird to start romantically liking someone you’ve only just met, especially in a life-or-death situation where surely there’s way more important things to be focusing on. But apparently, most people do not find this thought weird at all – love at first sight is supposedly a real thing that can happen, and something something dangerous situations can bring out more hormones and passion???? sounds fake but okay – and so opinions like mine and Maki’s here are very much outliers.

And not only that, not only does the thought of crushing on near-strangers bewilder Maki to the point of disbelief, but she also can’t even come up with an answer to when crushing on someone would ever not be strange and bizarre. Like the whole concept is just alien to her. She can barely even wrap her head around how “liking” someone in that way even works. The very reason she’s even asking Shuichi about this is because she doesn’t understand why she’s feeling this way about Kaito.

This is how an aromantic person would view this kind of thing. It doesn’t sound even slightly like something an alloromantic person would say in this situation. That’s not up for interpretation – that’s just the truth about these views that Maki is expressing. Again: I’m aromantic. I would know.

Even from a character who then does turn out to nonetheless have a crush on someone, these statements are pretty much as canonically confirmed arospec as you can get short of them straight up using the word "aromantic" or a variant.** And, well, obviously Maki isn't about to go calling herself that. From the way she’s questioning this, she clearly doesn’t realise that her perspective is the outlier, so she’s probably never even heard of the term. Besides, she most definitely has way bigger hurdles to be getting over first in terms of her self-acceptance before she's ever going to particularly care about figuring out labels for her orientation of all things.

Aros with trauma are still aros

Now, granted, I severely doubt that Maki being arospec is what the writers intended to convey. Haha, deliberate aro representation in mainstream Japanese media, especially something more complex than vanilla aro, that's a funny joke. What the writers probably meant by writing this conversation I just discussed is to suggest that Maki is viewing things this way a result of her trauma.

But hey, guess what? Even if it is because of her trauma - and I'm not denying that it probably is - that doesn't make Maki any less aro. Some people are arospec because of trauma, and that's equally as valid a reason to be arospec as without. Maybe Maki would have grown up alloromantic if she hadn't been scouted as an assassin, but that's irrelevant, because that's not the Maki who exists now.

In writing this conversation, the writers were presumably attempting to communicate that Maki is so messed up by having been manipulated and abused and moulded into a soulless killing machine that she can no longer comprehend the idea of how or why anybody (especially not herself) would fall in love with someone when they'd only just met, or even really in any circumstances at all. …And in doing that, the writers unintentionally wrote a character who, as a result of her trauma, is aro(-spec). This is an objective fact about the canon story that does not change just because the writers probably weren’t aware enough about aromanticism to actually realise this.

Aros who feel romantic attraction are still aros

So, of course, Maki does in fact come to romantically love Kaito despite this. That fact becomes very important to her, and me lengthily explaining here that she’s actually arospec is not remotely trying to diminish that. But it’s also very important to me that people realise that Maki’s romantic love for Kaito comes from an aromantic perspective. She eventually chooses to embrace those feelings not remotely because it just feels to her like the natural way things should go, but despite every single conscious part of her insisting that this is weird and illogical and doesn’t make any goddamn sense to even be happening at all. She is not going to suddenly fall into all the boring romantic cliches and stereotypical alloromantic approaches to love just because she does in fact happen to be experiencing romantic attraction. There’s nothing alloromantic about Maki’s crush on Kaito.***

As for the specific flavour of arospec that allowed Maki to fall in love with Kaito anyway? This part is somewhat more up for interpretation because there’s no real explicit indication of this in particular, but I personally like to go with the idea that Maki is demiromantic. It feels appropriate for Maki’s character and trauma to imagine that she can only begin to potentially feel romantic things towards a person when she has an emotional connection with them – when she trusts them and knows that they trust her. It doesn’t necessarily have to take very long – she’d only been friends with Kaito for a handful of days before that telling conversation with Shuichi – and she may not even have to have consciously admitted to herself that she trusts them, but she needs to have that bond. She’s normally so guarded and has such strong automatic barriers up during her interpersonal interactions that seeing most people in a romantic light literally isn’t even an option in her brain.

Maki’s confession of her feelings for Kaito does read as rather strongly demiromantic, I think. She makes a point that this is about who Kaito is and what he’s done for her, before even getting to the part where she admits to having fallen for him. And she says she “fell for” him, not that she was always in love with him or anything to that effect. This happened somewhere along the way during their friendship, because of their friendship, and because of Kaito being his incredible trusting supportive self towards her when she needed it most.

Maki Harukawa is demiromantic, and she’s wonderful.

  ---

[some grumpy Amatonormativity and Aro Erasure 101 footnotes, can you tell I am bitter about this kind of thing]

(* When I say “actual meaningful indication” of romantic feelings, I mean something that isn't just the narrative infuriatingly pointing at things that are actually perfectly platonic in nature and going “ooh look how romantic~!”. Newsflash: worrying about somebody and wanting to rescue them when they're sick and injured and have been kidnapped by someone you think is an evil sadistic mastermind is not somehow proof of romantic feelings. That is a thing that friends do. And on the same note, teaching somebody how to build a crossbow is not some kind of deep metaphor for romance; it is literally just a lesson in how to build a goddamn crossbow. Maki would have done both of these things in exactly the same way if her crush on Kaito didn’t exist.)

(** It's exactly like how characters can be considered canonically confirmed same-gender-attracted when all they've done is show attraction to the same gender****, without them actually needing to explicitly refer to themselves with the word “gay”, or “lesbian”, or “bi” or whatever else. Anyone who tried to insist that was necessary in order for it to “count” would instantly be written off as homophobic. So if that’s the case, then a character explicitly saying something such as “I don’t understand what it means to like someone that way” equally constitutes them being confirmed aro, and trying to argue that it doesn’t “count” without outright hearing the word itself is, guess what…?)

(*** This also inherently means that there’s nothing straight about Maki’s crush on Kaito either, since societally-expected “straight” attraction is allo as well as hetero. I gather that some people in this fandom like to devalue and erase Maki’s crush (and potentially also Maki herself) because they feel that it’s an Obligatory Forced Straight Romance and don’t like that, or something along those lines. Well, good news! It’s literally not that, actually, because Maki isn’t straight.)

(**** …This only applies so long as it actually is very clearly romantic or sexual attraction and not just people deciding platonic affection is totally romantic thanks to the disease that is amatonormativity. Because, you know. That happens. Literally all the time. (Even from V3’s narrative itself; see footnote 1.))

[marauders-venting]

Hi,, I read your posts,, and they were all sooooo amazing!! I just loved them. That's why I wanna ask if you will write prompt for me. Prompt: Remus/ Sirius first date. Both of them are nervous, and share the reason of their nervousness with lily and James. Sirius/ Remus is nervous because he is preparing for the date. While other is nervous about looks or other stuff. And then how the date goes...,, English is not my mother tongue so, pardon me if their are some errors. <3

The Last Chance

pairing: wolfstar (remus x sirius)

genre: fluff

warnings: hints at death

words: 3865

note: i wrote this with @ probably_wizardingworld_art on instagram. I wrote the part with remus and lily and she wrote sirius and james and we wrote the rest together. they came up with the title too.

a/n: hi! thank you so much that makes me so happy :D! this is my first prompt so im very excited. i actually had a lot of fun writing this so if you guys want to send me requests/prompts i'd be glad to try write some of them (you can send the request on tumblr or instagram)! anyway sorry this took me so long to get to but i hope you like the result! :)

Sirius was nervous, which didn’t happen often so they were pathetic at dealing with it. He needed to talk to James immediately or his head would probably explode or something. When he entered the common room they were lucky enough that Prongs was already there; he was talking to Lily, but that didn't matter right now. He walked up to them and slightly tapped James onto the shoulder, making him jump a little.

“Hey James, can I talk to you for a moment?” Sirius asked nervously, fidgeting around with one of their many rings.

“Of course Pads,” James said. He seemed a bit concerned because Sirius Black was rarely that unconfident, especially when there were people around. “Wanna go onto the roof for it?” Too tense to give a proper answer Sirius just nodded. James gave Lily an excusing look and the two boys went up to their dorm, climbed out of the window and onto the rooftop.

“Okay Padfoot, tell me what's bothering you,” James requested softly. Sirius took a deep breath before he managed to start talking at least two times as fast as usual.

“I know it's silly and I know I'm probably already bothering you enough with this stuff but… you know our graduation is only a week from now and everyone is asking someone out? I wanna ask Moony out but I'm hella nervous about it and I don't know what to do…”

“I can tell,” James muttered quietly. Not quietly enough though, as Sirius still punched his arm slightly and called him an “insensitive idiot”.

Picking up the original issue, Prongs said, “Pads, we both know you've been wanting to ask him out for at least a whole year now and I also know you always kept saying you would do it next time. But Sirius, just in case it's not clear to you, there isn't gonna be a next time. No next weekend at Hogsmeade, nothing; this is our graduation Sirius, it's your last chance to do it. Don't let it slip like all the others. Ask him to go to the dance with you; you would regret it if you didn’t.”

James was right of course, this was his last chance but that made it even worse to him. There wouldn't be enough time after this to fix the friendship when Remus wouldn't want to go to the dance with him.

“For two years actually. But Prongs… what do I do when he says no? What if he doesn't like me this way? Our friendship would become weird and there would barely be time to fix it. I don't wanna ruin everything y'know?” They tried to explain his fear to the other boy.

“Well, if he says no you can still act as if you wanted to go as friends, can't you?” he shrugged. “Even if I can't see why he should say no. It won’t be much of a surprise when Moony likes you the same way you like him, honestly.”

“And if he will refuse because well, we're two boys and there are a lot of people and dammit we both know he hates getting a lot of attention. Do you think people would stare at us? Not that I’d mind, of course, just thinking about Moony there.” They knew the anxious tone of their voice betrayed his words, but he wouldn't admit that.

“You wouldn’t be the only ones though. Lily told me that Marlene asked Dorcas out, so there’s no need to be worried about being THE gay couple. I don’t know why you think you’d be that interesting anyway.” James earned a stern look for this comment, but he just laughed at that, then added, “really Pads, you’re thinking too much; that’s not good for you.”

“Okay… I will do it. I can do that. Totally not scared anymore. And HOW the fuck am I gonna do this?” They hadn’t even given himself a moment to let the decision sink in and had already started panicking again. James seemed to find it hilarious though because he was laughing his head off.

“Sirius, calm down for fuck’s sake. If I managed to ask Lily out you can ask out Moony; he really isn’t that scary.”

“I never said Moony would be scary, arsehole.” He gave James a playful shove before he continued. “Besides, you definitely can't compare that! You and Lily are already dating, she would have been goin’ with you anyway. AND Moony would KILL me if I would make it a big, public thing like you did. Would definitely fit my attitude, but if I want him to say yes I’m not gonna do it like you.”

“Guess you're right about that. Maybe just ask him to talk in private then? If you won’t get it done until tomorrow, I solemnly swear I’m gonna lock you two up in our dormitory,” Prongs said, grinning mischievously.

“Bloody hell, Potter! You definitely WON’T do that, got it??” James just poked out his tongue at that.

“Don't worry about it too much mate, it's gonna be alright,” he assured him.

“Thanks for helping out Prongs,” Sirius spoke genuinely.

“Any time Padfoot.” The two lads climbed back into the dormitory. James went searching for Lily to continue their conversation. Sirius was alone in the room so he sat down on his bed and started thinking about what he wanted to say to Remus, just in case he would remember any of it when he actually had to ask him out.

---------

“So do you know who you’re going to the dance with?” Lily asked.

“No,” Remus said.

“Why not?”

“Well, it may have escaped your notice but we don’t all have boyfriends who’ve been in love with us for six and a half years,” Remus snapped.

“Geez,” Lily said. “I’m sorry I mentioned it.”

“No, I’m sorry,” Remus said. “It’s not you, I just… I’m kind of really dreading this dance.”

“What? Why?” Lily asked. “It’ll be fun.”

“No it won’t,” Remus said. “It’ll be really stupid and there will be a ton of people. I don’t know, I just don’t really want to go.”

“You’re not going?” Lily asked.

“I don’t know,” Remus said again. “Probably not.”

“What? No, Rem, come on. You have to come. it’s better than sitting in your room stressing yourself out about how you did on your N.E.W.Ts.”

“Why? It’s not like anybody will miss me. You’ll be with James. Marlene and Dorcas will be together. Peter’s probably going to ask that Hufflepuff girl to go with him and he’ll spend all night with her. And Sirius… Sirius won’t miss me. He’ll be with their date.”

“Who is Sirius going with by the way? Do you know?”

“No,” Remus said, sounding agitated again.

“Then how do you know he has a date?”

“Lils, it’s Sirius. Of course, he has a date. Literally, half the school is head over heels for them.”

“Does that half include you then?” Lily muttered under her breath.

“W–what?” Remus said.

“Nothing, nothing,” Lily sighed. “So you’re really not going?”

“I’d just be standing there alone in the corner. I’ll be even more awkward than usual.”

“You wouldn’t be alone, Remus. Do you really think we’d all ditch you just because we have dates? We’re still your friends.”

“Fair enough,” Remus said. “And thanks for the offer but as much as I would enjoy third-wheeling with you and James, it’s a hard pass.”

“Come on, Remus, there must be somebody you want to ask to the dance,” Lily insisted.

“No,” Remus muttered. “There isn’t anybody I want to go with.” But the blush on his cheeks gave him away.

“Remus, you’re a horrible liar,” Lily said. “Now spill the secret. Who do you want to ask?”

“Nobody!” Remus insisted, but his blush only deepened. “There’s no secret!”

“You know you can tell me anything, Remus. Don’t you trust me with your secret? We’ve been best friends for seven years.”

“Which is exactly why I know not to trust you with my secret,” Remus said.

“Aha! I knew there was a secret!” Lily said. “Come on, just tell me.”

“You’ll laugh at me,” Remus said. “You’ll say I’m ridiculous for suggesting it.”

“No I won’t,” Lily said. “Rem, I swear on my life, I won’t. Just tell me.”

“Fine,” Remus swallowed. “Sirius.”

“I knew it!” Lily yelled. “I fucking knew it!”

“Keep your voice down!” Remus said.

“Sorry,” she whispered. “I knew it though.”

“Great, I’m a bad liar, you proved your point,” Remus said. “Now do you see why I would be going to the dance alone?”

“No, actually, I do not,” Lily said. “You want to ask Sirius to the dance so ask him to the dance.” Remus snorted.

“Yeah, right.”

“What?”

“Lily, if I ask Sirius to the dance one of two things is going to happen. One, they’ll assume I mean as friends and I’ll look like a complete idiot. Two, they’ll turn me down and then everything will get awkward and he’ll hate me and if that happens I might just die.”

“Oh calm down, Remus,” Lily said. “You accuse Sirius of being a drama queen all the time but you’re just as bad. First of all, Sirius would never hate you—”

“You don’t know that,” Remus said.

“Yes I do,” she insisted.

“How?” he asked skeptically, crossing his arms.

“Remus, a friend who undergoes a long and complex magical transformation for the sole purpose of helping you, is not going to hate you just because you have a crush on them.” He had to admit that Lily was making a pretty good point.

“That doesn’t mean it won’t be awkward,” Remus pressed.

“You know, Remus, I actually think they might like you,” Lily said. Remus laughed but even he could hear that it sounded bitter and forced.

“Lily, please,” Remus said. “Maybe he won’t hate me but they definitely do not like me. Not the way I like him.”

“Why not?” Lily said. “I was right about you liking him, wasn’t I? So who is to say that I’m not right about them liking you?”

“Lils, have you seen Sirius? He’s way out of my league. They literally have no reason to look at me like that.”

“Remus, you do not give yourself enough credit, honestly,” Lily sighed. “So how long have you liked them?”

“Since the start of fifth year,” Remus said, not meeting her eye.

“That’s almost three years,” she said.

“It is,” Remus sighed, still not looking at her.

“Remus,” Lily started, “I really think you should talk to him.”

“Lily—”

“No, Remus, listen. Do you trust me?”

“Absolutely not.”

“Bitch,” Lily said, jabbing him in the ribs with her elbow.

“Kidding,” Remus grunted.

“So talk to him,” she insisted. Remus hesitated.

“What if he already has a date?” he asked.

“Ask them,” Lily shrugged.

“And if they do?”

“Hmm I think you know exactly what you’re going to do if Sirius already has a date and you don’t need my advice at all so I would like to propose the alternative,” Lily said. “What if he doesn’t have a date?”

“I—” Remus buried his face in his palms, “I don’t fucking know.”

“Hey,” Lily said, gently. “It’s ok. Everything will be ok, regardless of what happens, Remus. I promise.”

“I don’t want to lose him,” he said, quietly.

“You won’t,” she said. “Remus, look at me.” He did. “You won’t. You know it as well as I do. You won’t lose him, no matter what.”

“Ok,” Remus sighed. “So I guess I’m asking Sirius Black to the dance.” He felt a flutter in his stomach as he said it. He was really going to do it.

“I guess you are,” Lily said, smiling.

---------

Remus walked into the dorm and found himself alone with Sirius, who looked up as he came in.

“Hey,” he said.

“Hi.” Ask him, said a voice in his head. Lily’s voice. It was his chance; the dorm was empty, it was just the two of them. He needed to stop putting this off.

“So, um… do you have a date to the dance yet?” he asked timidly.

“Nope,” Sirius said, looking back at the floor. “Do you?”

“No,” Remus replied. “So the Sirius Black doesn’t have a date to the dance yet?” Remus added, trying to relax. Just talk, he told himself, just talk to him like you normally would.

“How’d that happen?” Sirius shrugged.

“I don’t know,” they said. “I just didn’t really fancy any of the people who asked me.”

“Is… is there someone you wanted to ask yourself?” Remus asked, heart racing in his chest. Sirius hesitated a moment before answering.

“Yes,” he said slowly.

“So why didn’t you?”

“Same reason as anybody, I suppose. I didn’t want to be turned down.”

“Pfft like anybody would turn you down,” Remus said.

“I will ask him, though.”

“When?”

“Within the next five minutes probably. What about you? Why don’t you have a date?” Well, here it goes.

“I’m hoping to,” Remus said. “Soon enough.” Maybe it was his imagination but Remus thought he saw the spark leave Sirius’ grey eyes, the smile faltering slightly on his lips.

“So who’s the lucky lad or lady who’s swept you off your feet?” Sirius asked. Suddenly some gusto of bravery possessed Remus and he took a step towards Sirius.

“Well, you know them,” he said.

“Do I, now?”

“Yep,” Remus said. “He’s in this room right now.” Sirius’ eyes darted in every direction but found Remus again when they realised that there was nobody there but the two of them.

“Wait,” Sirius said, realisation growing in his eyes. “Are—are you trying to ask me to the dance?” Remus gave a small nod.

“That,” he said, “and tell you that I… I’ve liked you for a long time now.”

“No, no, no, you can’t do that,” Sirius said. Remus ducked his head, feeling the tears filling his eyes. He knew it would end like this. It was stupid to cry when this was exactly what he had expected. But that didn’t make it hurt any less.

“Sirius, I’m so, so sorry. I never meant—”

“I was just about to ask you to the dance!” Sirius said. “You totally stole my moment!”

“I— what?” Remus said, looking up. “You… you were going to ask me to the dance?”

“Yes, I’ve been trying to all day,” Sirius said. “But I kept stalling until James told me to suck it up and just do it already.”

“Wait, I— wha— I’m so confused,” Remus said, trying to get a hold of the situation.

“You… you wanted to ask me to the dance?”

“Yes, Remus,” Sirius said, taking his hand in their own. “I wanted to tell you that I… I’ve had a crush on you since we were like fifteen and… nothing would make me happier than to go to this dance with you.”

“Really?” Remus asked.

“Yeah,” Sirius said, wiping the tears out of Remus’ eyes with his thumb. “But then you got there first.”

“Maybe next time try to be a little bit faster then,” Remus laughed.

“Fine,” Sirius said, grinning. And then before he knew it, Remus was being kissed by Sirius Black. Sirius had closed the gap between them, kissing Remus firmly on the lips. And for a moment, Remus couldn’t breathe. Because this was too good to be true. Far, far too good. Sirius wanted to go to the dance with him. And he wanted to go to the dance with Sirius. He was going to the dance with Sirius. He’s kissing Sirius right now.

---------

For the fifth and last time, Remus checked his reflection in the mirror. It hadn’t changed within the last few minutes of course, but he was nervous, really nervous.

“Calm down Remus, you look good.” It was James. He had just come out of the bathroom, finally wearing his suit too.

“Really Moony, you’re worrying too much,” Peter assured him.

All of them had decided to wear a simple, black suit but somehow they’d still managed to look completely different. Maybe it was the fact that James was wearing a normal tie, Peter was going for a bow tie and Remus himself had just left open the top two buttons of his shirt. Remus didn’t know what Sirius was going to wear, as they dressed with the girls to avoid Remus seeing him in his outfit before he was supposed to.

In less than a minute James and Remus were supposed to meet their dates in the Gryffindor common room so the three boys decided to get down there and wait for them.

As soon as they reached the common room the door of the girls’ dormitory swung open and Lily started walking down the stairs in a beautiful, emerald green, backless dress, followed by Sirius and Marlene.

Remus thought he’d faint when he saw Sirius’s outfit. He was wearing a DRESS. And they looked absolutely stunning in it. The dress was a beautiful dark blue and floor-length with a plunging V-neck and a split skirt, and he was wearing a goddamn underbust corset. It was breathtaking. He only noticed he’d been staring a bit long when Sirius was standing right in front of him, staring right back, lips slightly parted. They swallowed visibly before he said, “You look good Moony.”

His face was probably deep red, but somehow he still managed to say something.

“And you look absolutely marvellous in that dress.”

Was that possible? Sirius Black, blushing? Apparently, it was and it was cute.

They had to be at the Great Hall any minute now, so Remus took Sirius’ hand and they all started leaving the common room.

When they arrived at the Great Hall they saw that it had been entirely transformed for the event. The long house tables that were usually in the middle of the room were pushed against the walls and held a large variety of food, snacks and drinks, leaving the middle clear for students to dance. A big banner reading Class of ‘78 was strung against the back wall of the hall and there was music playing although where it was coming from remained a mystery.

Marlene and Peter spotted their dates already in the room and hurried to greet them.

“May I have this dance?” James asked Lily, kissing the back of her hand. Lily rolled her eyes but Remus noticed her blushing slightly.

“No, Potter, I came with you so that I could dance with somebody else,” she said sarcastically. “Of course you can have this dance. Come on.” And she dragged him onto the dance floor, leaving Remus and Sirius standing by the door.

“You wanna get something to drink?” Remus suggested, trying to delay the moment when he had to dance in front of everybody and make a fool of himself. Why had he come to this dance again?

“Yeah, sure,” Sirius said. They stood by the drinks table, drinking juice (yes, juice) and talking for a while but Remus saw Sirius looking wistfully at all the dancing people.

“You’re going to make me dance, aren’t you?” he said.

“Oh come on we have to dance a little,” Sirius said. “It is a dance after all.”

“But we both know that I cannot dance. Like at all.”

“Come on, babe, dance with me please,” Sirius pouted.

“Babe?” Remus said, a smirk playing on his lips.

“Um, I-I mean… uh…” Sirius stuttered, his cheeks flushed. They put their head on Remus’ shoulder, hiding his face. “Sorry.” Remus kissed the top of Sirius’ head, lingering to smell Sirius’ hair.

“Don’t be, I… I like it,” Remus said, blushing hard.

“You do?” Sirius asked.

“Yeah.”

“Ok. So will you dance with me?” Sirius asked hopefully. Remus hesitated a little before answering.

“Yeah,” he said. “I will.” And he took Sirius by the hand and pulled them into the center of the Great Hall.

Remus was right, of course. He could not dance. But he was trying. The more upbeat the songs were the more difficult but as soon as a slow song came on, Sirius wrapped him in their arms and took the lead, making it significantly easier to dance but also significantly harder to breathe.

Right now they were dancing in each other’s arms, swaying slowly to the music. Remus closed his eyes and rested his forehead against Sirius’.

“I love you, you know,” he said. “I’m in love with you.” Sirius stumbled on his feet and stopped moving.

“Really?” they asked. Remus froze, realising what he had said.

“Uh I–I mean…” Remus stuttered, “that depends, is this a good or bad reaction?”

“Good,” Sirius said, quietly. “The best.” And then he kissed Remus. There, in the middle of the great hall, in front of all their friends and all their classmates and all their teachers, Remus and Sirius stood, kissing each other like their lives depended on it, like they needed the other more than they needed oxygen. And at that moment, at that moment that Remus' lips connected with Sirius’, at that moment that Sirius slid their tongue into Remus’ mouth and pulled him closer, at that moment Remus didn’t have a care in the world. He didn’t care that people were watching, he didn’t care that he might fail his examinations, he didn’t care about the war waging outside the walls. All he cared about was Sirius and the feeling he had when they were together. As long as he had Sirius, nothing else mattered.

When they broke apart, Remus’ breaths were shallow. He held Sirius close, their foreheads pressed together, his arms around Sirius’ neck as Sirius’ hands cupped Remus’ face.

“I love you too,” Sirius whispered. He could’ve yelled it, could’ve made a scene. The whole room was watching them anyway. But this wasn’t just something for attention, Remus knew. Sirius meant it. They meant what he said. He really meant it.

“I thought you would hate me if you ever found out,” Remus said, not moving away.

“Well, then you’re an idiot,” Sirius said, “because I could never hate you. Not even if I tried.”

“Me neither,” Remus said. “I could never hate you either.” Remus knew it was true the moment he said it. But despite that, the universe decided to put him to the test. It was barely four years later when Remus was desperately trying to fall out of love with Sirius, to hate him. Because how could you love your best friend’s murderer? You shouldn’t. But apparently, he could. It took another twelve years for Remus to be able to admit that he had not hated Sirius. Not really. He thought back to the day he told Sirius that he could never hate them. He wasn’t lying that day. Remus was unsure of many things these days. Everything seemed rocky and unstable. Anything good could disappear at any moment and more often than not it did. But this he was certain of, without a shadow of a doubt: for as long he lived, he would be in love with Sirius Black. And nothing could change that.

[winchester19-67]

Say Something

Pairing: Firefighter!Dean x Reader

Warnings: Car Wreck, Injuries, Little bit of Angst, Fluff

Word Count: 2,452

Square Filled: Fire Fighter AU (Fluff Bingo)

Square Filled: Fire Fighter AU (Dean Bingo)

Anonymous Request: For the firefighter AU could you maybe do an eventual Dean x reader. She gets in a car accident and he’s by her side the whole time as they get her out and on the way to the hospital. She gets a little panicked and he helps, lots of “I got you” and “you’re gonna be okay.” And then he goes to visit her in the hospital a few days later and after he keeps her company for awhile he asks her out...

A/N: I might turn this into a series so please let me know what you think! This was written for @spnfluffbingo and @spndeanbingo.

You don’t know what happened. You were just out riding around on a rainy day and now you’re hurting all over and your vision is blurry.

“Ma’am?”

You try and turn your head towards the voice, but it feels like you can’t move and your first thought is that you’re paralyzed.

“Ma’am, can you let me know if you’re able to hear me?”

You barely nod your head and yet the small movement alone is enough to make it feel like you’ve broken every bone in your body. You can’t help the small cry that escapes past your lips.

“Hey, relax, okay?” the voice tells you soothingly. You can’t make out anything other than it’s definitely a man talking to you. “We’re here to help. Can you let me know that you’re okay? Say something.”

“What happened?” you get out but it probably sounded a lot more slurred to him than it was supposed to.

“You were in an accident but you’re going to be just fine,” he tells you. “Do you know where you’re at or anything?”

“No,” you croak out. “I wasn’t paying attention. I was only driving around for a while.”

“Well, could you at least tell me your name?”

“(Y/N).”

“(Y/N),” he says softly. “That’s a pretty name.” You know that you’d be smiling if you weren’t in so much pain right now. “My name’s Dean. I’m going to help you get out of here, okay?”

“Okay,” you breathe out.

“I’m not going anywhere,” Dean tells you as he reaches over to take your hand in his. He gives your hand a soft squeeze and you can feel your body relaxing a bit. When you’re finally able to see everything, the first thing that you see are the green orbs staring at your face. “Can you see me?” Dean asks you hopefully when it seems like you’re finally focusing on him a bit. You nod and Dean gives you a small smile. “Does it hurt anywhere, sweetheart?”

Sweetheart.

“All over,” you tell him.

“Alright, all you’ve gotta do is stay calm and we’ll getcha out of here in no time.”

We? That’s when you take note of the fireman’s uniform that Dean is wearing.

“Do you know if I’m going to be okay?” you ask him.

“You’re gonna be just fine,” he tells you reassuringly. You hear somebody else speak and Dean turns his head a bit before looking over at you once more. “Okay, sweetheart, we’re going to have to cut you out of here but you’re just going to hear a loud buzzing noise and then we’ll get you all loaded up onto the ambulance, alright?”

“I don’t want to go to the hospital,” you mutter.

“I don’t think that you’re going to have much of a choice,” Dean says as he gives you a sad smile. He shrugs his jacket off to lay over you and you immediately decide that you don’t like not being able to see what’s going on around you. “That’s just so if any glass breaks then you don’t get all cut up by it.”

“I can’t see,” you tell him as your body starts tensing up once more.

“Hey,” Dean tells you as he gives your hand another gentle squeeze. “I’m not going anywhere, okay? I’m right here. You’re going to be alright.”

“I bet that you tell that to all of the pretty girls.” You hear Dean chuckle before a piece of equipment is turned on and then all you can hear is a loud buzzing noise like Dean told you.

“I’m right here!” Dean hollers at you over the sound of them literally cutting your car away so that they can get you out safely. You cry out when the pressure is taken off of your leg and you just know that it’s broke.

“Shh, you’re doing great. You’re almost done,” Dean tells you soothingly. The noise stops and Dean lets go of your hand. “I’m still right here, (Y/N), but we’ve gotta get you out of this car, okay?”

“Okay,” you nod and try to relax some more. You just let them do their job and you try to tune everything else out. Before you know it, Dean’s got you out of the car and is carrying you over towards a gurney. You cry out at the movement and you dig your fingers into Dean’s muscular shoulders.

“I know. I know. I’m sorry but I’ve got to take you over to the ambulance,” Dean cringes at the amount of pain that you must be in. He carefully lays you down onto the gurney but when he tries to walk away, you reach out to grab onto his hand.

“No!” you holler, wincing as the sudden movement causes everything to ache. “No. Please don’t…”

“I’m not going anywhere,” Dean tells you softly. “I’m going to find something to put over you because it’s still kind of rainy out. It might be a while before they get you all looked over and loaded up into the ambulance.” You nod and you try to relax as a couple of paramedics walk over to examine you.

Your bottom lip takes a few good bites as they poke and prod around on your broken body. You’re in tears by the time you feel Dean’s hand in yours once more.

“Thank you.”

“No problem, sweetheart,” Dean smiles softly at you as he fixes the blanket that he found over you to where it’s keeping you warm but also not in the paramedic’s way.

“What about the other?” you ask him as your voice tries to give out on you.

Dean gives you a look. “Um, I’d say that they’re probably just fine.”

“What?”

Dean takes a deep breath. “Hit and run,” he tells you softly, feeling a bit sick to his stomach at the thought that anybody could do anything like this. “But don’t you worry about that right now because you need to focus on yourself, okay?”

“Okay,” you nod and let your eyes slide shut.

“No, no, sweetheart. Don’t go to sleep,” Dean tells you.

“I’m so tired.”

“I know, (Y/N), but eyes open, alright? Keep your eyes open for me please,” he tells you. The ambulance driver walks over to tell Dean that they’re going to head out and you panic a bit.

“I… I can’t… Please don’t…”

“I’m not going anywhere,” Dean tells you soothingly. “I’ll ride with you to the hospital, okay?”

“Okay,” you swallow hard. “I’m sorry, Dean. You barely know me yet I’m begging you to not leave me. I just… I don’t have anybody else.”

“It’s alright,” Dean tells you as he gives you a soft smile. “I don’t mind, sweetheart. I mean, this is sort of what I get paid to do.”

You let out a small laugh and wince. “Ow!” you yell out as you bring a hand up to your ribs.

“Easy,” Dean soothes as he runs his free hand over your head. “Alright, we’re going to have to move you now and it’s not going to feel too good, so hang on for me, okay?”

“Okay,” you swallow hard. Dean slowly lets go of your hand to grab onto the other side of the gurney. You bite into your bottom lip as they move you up and into the ambulance, but it’s not as bad as you thought that it would be.

“Alright,” Dean tells you as he climbs up into the ambulance beside of you. “Still doing okay, sweetheart?”

“Good,” you tell him as you give him a thumbs up. The ride to the hospital proves to be rougher on you than getting you into the ambulance was. Your teeth stay gritted the entire ride and it doesn’t take long for it to be too much on you.

“Sweetheart, you’ve gotta stay calm,” Dean tells you softly.

“I can’t,” you gasp.

“Do you want them to give you something to help you?” Dean asks.

You nod and before either of you can say anything else, you feel someone inserting an I.V. into your arm and you fall asleep while staring into Dean’s eyes. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You gasp awake and your eyes dart around the strange room. It takes you a while to remember where you’re at, but when you do your heart starts racing. The car and the wreck. The ambulance ride. Dean.

You push yourself up a bit in bed but the pain is too much and you let yourself collapse down against the mattress once more. You don’t know where he’s at but you’ve gotta thank him for all that he did for you yesterday. Saving your life and sticking with you at least through the ambulance ride to the hospital. You have no idea what happened after that. You were too drugged out.

Taking a deep breath, you decide to try to distract yourself from the pain and access the damage. Your right leg is definitely broken and if the pain wasn’t enough to make that conclusion on your own, then the weird angle that it’s twisted in would have been a dead giveaway. You know that you have at least one broken rib and you can probably add a concussion to the list.

“Hey, you’re awake!”

You jump a bit and you look over to see Dean standing there in the doorway. “Hi,” you smile softly at him as you try and sit up some. Dean rushes over to help you and you can’t help but to give him a grateful smile. “Thanks,” you breathe out.

“No problem, sweetheart,” Dean tells you as he gently pulls the blankets up over you, being careful of your legs. “You feeling okay?”

“I… Yeah, I think so,” you tell him. Dean takes a seat in the chair beside of your hospital bed and you look over at him. “So I never got to thank you for all that you did for me yesterday.”

“You don’t have to thank me for that,” Dean tells you softly. “I told you that I was only doing my job.”

“What about now?” you ask him shyly.

Dean blushes a bit. “Honestly, I couldn’t get you off my mind yesterday. And I know that that’s not normal but I clocked out and got almost home before I turned around and drove straight here. I had to make sure that you were okay.”

“You were here yesterday?” you ask him.

“Mhm,” Dean hums as he nods his head a bit at you.

“I guess that I was still pretty out of it then.”

“Oh, sweetheart, whatever medicine that they gave you in that ambulance knocked you completely out.”

“Well, I think that whatever it was is starting to wear off finally,” you wince.

“You need me to go get a doctor?” Dean asks you.

“No, I’m alright,” you tell him softly. “Hey, Dean?”

“Hm?”

“Why are you here?” you ask him.

He takes a deep breath. “Honestly, I don’t know. Like I said, I had to make sure that you were okay.”

“Yeah, but still I want to know why. I mean, I know that I can’t be the only person that you’ve helped and yet you made a special trip to the hospital to see me.”

Dean shrugs his shoulders a bit at you. “A feeling I guess.”

“A feeling?” you ask him.

“A feeling that you might be lonely and in need of some company,” Dean lies.

“Oh,” you breathe out. “Well, your feeling certainly didn’t steer you wrong.”

“Seriously?” he asks you. “Don’t tell me that your family hasn’t even been by to see you and yet a complete stranger is now bugging you to make sure that you’re okay.”

“They live out of town,” you tell him. “They don’t know yet. And you are not bugging me or a complete stranger.”

“No?” Dean asks you.

“No,” you smile. “I mean, I know your first name so you’re an acquaintance at least.”

“Well then,” Dean smirks. “Maybe we should officially meet.” He sticks his hand out at you and you can’t help but to laugh at him. “My name’s Dean Winchester. And you are?”

You smile as you reach your hand over to take his, giving it a small shake. “(Y/N) (Y/L/N).”

“Pretty name for a pretty young woman,” Dean winks. You blush a bit as you slowly pull your hand away from him. “Tell you what,” he says, “I have to clock in in about an hour, but if they let you out of here by this weekend and you’re still bent on thanking me for yesterday, what do you say you and me go out to eat somewhere?”

You swallow hard as Dean stands up out of his chair. “Dean, did you ask me out on a date?”

“I don’t know. Did I?” Dean teases as he smirks a bit at you.

“I think so,” you breathe out. Dean stands there as you think over your response.

“Well?” he asks. “Say something.”

“Okay,” you choke out.

“You’re buying right?” Dean teases.

“Well, if this is how you’re going to let me thank you then that would be implied, yes.”

“I’m kidding,” Dean smiles as he turns to walk over towards the door.

“Uh, Dean, don’t you need my phone number so that you can get ahold of me?”

“I got it,” he chuckles.

“How?” you ask him.

“I got it off of your phone while you were out of it. It miraculously made it through the wreck along with you.”

“But how did you even get into it?”

“Here’s a tip, don’t use your birthday as your passcode.”

“How did you know when my birthday even is?”

“It’s on your medical records,” he tells you.

“They let you see my medical records?”

“No,” Dean chuckles. You roll your eyes a bit at him.

“I don’t even want to know what that meant,” you laugh.

“I have my ways,” he smirks.

“Obviously,” you smile softly.

“Get some sleep,” Dean tells you as he turns to walk on out of your room. “Get to feeling better, sweetheart.” He stops at the door and looks over his shoulder at you. “Oh, and you can call me if you ever need someone to talk to or you’re bored or something. I added myself to your contacts while I was stealing your phone number.”

“Of course,” you giggle. “Well, you can too if you ever need someone to talk to.”

Dean gives you another wink before he walks out of your room, shutting the hospital room door as he goes. Your heart is racing and your cheeks are definitely red but you have a feeling that maybe something good can happen out of this scary incident.

Tags: @polina-93​ @adoptdontshoppets @justanotherwinchester @blue-pink-green @spnbaby-67​ @deanwanddamons @defenderrosetyler @mlovesstories @akshi8278 @idksupernatural​ @hobby27 @emoryhemsworth @flamencodiva

[spencers-renaissance]

Rain is a Chance to be Touched Ch.1

this arid world has turned my deep heart dry

This is the first chapter in my new ongoing hotchreid fic! Please click here for the fic summary, full tags, trigger warnings, more information etc.

Chapter Summary: follows S5E1 and Spencer's depression and disordered thinking is introduced.

TW: depression, disordered thinking, loneliness, the events of s5e1 (guns and knives)

Word Count: 3.4k

RCT Masterlist // Main Masterlist // Read on AO3

SPENCER

"She simply said this arid world has turned her deep heart dry, there was just one way she knew of to finally feel like she was free, and it was 1400 feet beneath the cold and stormy sea." — Erin Hanson

Spencer’s entire body feels heavy as he drags himself into work, and it’s not exactly a good sign when he can’t even find the energy to press the button for the right floor; he just stares pitifully at the array of numbers as if the elevator will read his mind and resolve the issue for him. Eventually, he brings himself to move his finger the short distance, cold metal colliding with cold flesh, and the doors shudder close, catapulting him up several storeys towards his fate.

Some might call the emotions Spencer’s experience typical burnout, far too common in the FBI and even more so in units that deal directly with horrific crime on the regular, but he knows it’s more than that. His entire life is operating in a minor key, he’s functioning entirely on auto-pilot, and chunks of his day are a blur, almost impossible to recall. He knows he’s depressed. Knowing such a fact, however, does little to cure the actual problem. He has no idea what to do with information like this except bottle it up and shove it as far down as possible while pretending as much as possible that absolutely everything is fine.

Emily and Derek are laughing about something as he approaches their group of desks. Only weeks ago he would’ve been crushed when they don’t so much as look over to say hello, but now he’s glad to not have to fake a smile, invent a story to tell about his weekend, pretend he’s not currently being held together with slowly peeling sellotape.

Instead, he focuses on feeling grateful that no one’s commented on him arriving a whole hour later than he used to as he unpacks his messenger bag. It’s not like it’s his fault he can’t pull his exhausted body out of bed in the morning, but since he’d rather not disclose such sorry information and finding an excuse is way too much effort, spending the morning in solitude seems the only option.

He doesn’t really understand how he’s gone from being a genuinely happy person, thick as thieves with everybody on the team, to this. It’s almost as though somebody’s cut the rope tying him to the others and now he’s drifting away, sinking without everyone else’s buoyancy to keep him afloat. He can see them all still tied together, barely seeming to notice their drowning team member, clearly not missing his presence.

This misery over his inevitable isolation, though, is his own fault: he can’t believe he let himself forget his place. He’s useful, good to keep around for his intelligence, his reading speed, his problem-solving skills, but it doesn’t go beyond that. Spencer is not friendship material. And he certainly isn’t relationship material.

The day starts off slow, everyone burying themselves in their paperwork, but Spencer finishes it far too quickly for it to really serve as much of a distraction. Depressingly, it’s still miles slower than he’s used to. Since his pile of consults seems too exhausting to even look at, he decides another coffee is very much in order.

“Hey, Spence,” JJ says happily as soon as he pushes his way into the breakroom. She’s leaning casually against the counter as she drinks her coffee, reading through what looks like case notes at the same time.

“Hi,” he says, trying for a smile but he knows there’s no way he could possibly match her relaxed grin. Instead of trying to converse, he just heads straight for the coffee machine, fixing his eyes on the steady stream of coffee pouring into his mug already piled high with sugar.

“You alright?” JJ asks, sounding a little suspicious. Not concerned, Spencer notes, just suspicious.

“Hmm?” He looks up and catches her eye before deciding he should probably answer verbally. “Yeah, yeah I’m good.”

“Are you sure? You’ve been acting a bit off the past few weeks.”

Spencer sighs. Maybe this is an opportunity to actually communicate his feelings. He doubts JJ will be able to help but really he’d just like a bit of comfort: he’s in so much pain that a hug would feel really nice right now. And besides Penelope, she’s probably the team member he’s most comfortable with. If he’s going to share with anybody, it should be JJ.

“I’ve been having a bit of a hard time, I guess,” he admits, looking up as his left-hand fidgets on the hot ceramic side of his coffee mug. He resents how vulnerable his voice sounds, he’s giving far too much of himself over to hands he’s not sure he can trust, but there’s nothing he can do about that now.

“Really?” JJ sounds surprised. Spencer recognises the tone as that of anyone who has a certain perspective on him realising that he also has feelings alongside his intelligence, and it hurts. “I’m sorry, Spence.”

Spencer just presses his lips into a thin line and nods awkwardly in thanks.

“I mean… at least you’re not going through what Hotch is,” she offers, completely unhelpfully. “He’s still trying to cope with his divorce and isn’t seeing Jack as much as he used to. Derek was almost killed by the Reaper just a few months ago, Emily only recently lost a childhood friend — I mean, the whole team has been through a lot. Keep your chin up.”

She smiles at him, patting him on the shoulder, before leaving the break room and heading back to her office, leaving Spencer standing in the middle of the room like an idiot. He wants to shout that he was literally poisoned with anthrax only a month ago, if they’re tallying bad things happening as a method of tracking who has the right to be miserable. The others might be going through a lot, that’s true, but it doesn’t lessen any of the pain thudding in his chest and stirring in his stomach.

As he walks back to his desk, he realises he’s learned one thing: opening up = not a good idea.

As completely fucking miserable as he might be, there’s exactly one person in this world who doesn’t deserve to be burdened with any of it, so he carefully tucks it away in his pockets and plasters on the mask he’d perfected so many years ago. It might be a little rusty, after all, it’s been little used in recent years, but it works just as well as it used to do when he pushes the door open to Penelope’s office.

“I bring blueberry muffins,” he says as cheerfully as he can muster, and something inside him does warm as Penelope’s face lights up, squealing a little as she reaches her arms out eagerly, making grabby hands at the paper bag he’s holding.

“Oh, you have no idea how much I love you,” she moans, keen to rip the bag open as he pulls up a chair next to hers.

“I think I do,” Spencer chuckles, and it’s one of the only genuine reactions he’s given in months, “mostly because you tell me every day.”

“Mm, that’s right,” she concedes through a mouthful of warm muffin, pointing a finger at his chest. “I love you even more than I love coding.”

“That’s a lot,” Spencer says, trying for serious but he can’t stop a fond smile slipping across his face.

Penelope swallows her rather large bite of blueberry muffin and passes him his one. “It is,” she says. “How are you, anyway? You look tired, poor baby.”

Spencer looks down for a moment, schooling his expression for a second before he forces himself to look back up at her. “Yeah, I didn’t… didn’t sleep well last night, I guess.” He tries for a reassuring smile but he knows it’s more of a grimace.

Penelope’s face immediately morphs into one of grave concern. Spencer knows that that’s just the way she is, melodrama and fierce protectiveness is virtually her brand at this point, but that doesn’t mean it isn’t any less agonising to see, or the anxiety of being found out any less paralysing. He decides not to give her any room to actually address it.

“I’ll be fine, Penelope, don’t worry,” he says, turning away to brush some muffin crumbs off the desk and into his hand, purely so he doesn’t have to attempt another pathetic smile. “A good night’s sleep tonight will fix me right up.”

“Are you sure?” she asks, still looking far too worried for Spencer’s liking.

“Of course, Pen.” He feels sick at lying to her, but he has no idea how to broach any of the tumultuous emotions raging inside of him, especially after JJ shut him down so brutally. “It’s only a bad nights’ sleep.”

He’s saved from her inevitable continued line of questioning by Emily poking her head round the door and asking for Spencer’s opinion on a consult.

While getting out of bed in the morning might be an almost impossible task at the moment, the idea of getting into it at night seems rather depressing, really. That’s probably the reason he’s still at the office, despite the time nearing 8 o’clock and exhaustion settling into every muscle fibre of his being. It has absolutely nothing to do with the fact that it’s just a little more time in close proximity to one Aaron Hotchner.

Of course, he’d had to accept the fact that he was maybe, just a little bit in love with his boss a long time ago. He just refuses to admit that he’s this embarrassing about it. Perhaps staying late to spend more time with someone you like this much wouldn’t be so weird if there was a reasonable chance of conversation — if he ever even saw him — but there isn’t even that: Spencer sits and works quietly at his desk, Aaron sits and works quietly in his office.

Today, though, today his lingering finally pays off.

Aaron is on his way back from the photocopier when he stops by Spencer’s desk. He doesn’t see him coming, though, is the thing: he has no time to try and make himself look even a smidge less miserable or to school his surprised yet utterly lovesick expression.

“Won’t you want to be heading off soon, Reid?” he asks, clearly curious as to why Spencer remains at his desk when there’s no real work to be doing, but he cleverly paints it in a light-hearted tone. Even though Spencer is completely aware of what Aaron’s doing, he doesn’t feel attacked or under pressure.

“Oh,” Spencer says unintelligently, stammering a little as he scrambles desperately at a somewhat coherent reply, “yes, yeah, I’ll get going soon.” He doesn’t want to lie when he doesn’t have to, so he doesn’t try and offer an explanation for his staying late, and he knows Aaron won’t push. He manages an almost entirely genuine smile, though, which must count for something, even if it’s only because he’s hopelessly in love with the man leaning casually against his desk.

“Right then,” Aaron says, offering a small smile in response, letting his hard exterior drop in the nearly empty office, and even though it’s nothing special, not really, Spencer carefully files it away as his heart pitter-patters against his ribcage and his stomach pools with warmth. “See you tomorrow, Reid.”

Spencer just nods in response and gathers his things, placing them carefully in his messenger bag and shrugging his jacket on before walking out of the building. When he glances back, just as he pulls the glass door open, Aaron is watching him carefully. He doesn’t turn away but instead offers a small wave, which Spencer returns bashfully, blushing scarlet in the elevator and on the walk out of the HQ and during the whole trek down the street and sat on the metro train and on the final stretch home. He fumbles with his keys and curses himself for being so goddamn pathetic.

He doesn’t consider it for long, though, because he’s utterly exhausted and his tired bones collapse on the sofa, and who is he to try and get them to move again? Sleep is a mercy.

🌧

The case is gruelling and stressful enough without the endless and constant worry about where on earth Aaron is. He never turns his phone off and Spencer can’t think of a time he’s worked a case without him, not properly; he’s always the first one at the office, the first one on the plane, the first to jump out of bed towards the chance to make a real difference in the world. It’s so out of character for him and it’s utterly distressing.

Nevertheless, he focuses all his attention on the job; on protecting Jeffrey and Tom Barton, on bringing justice to the perpetrator when they inevitably find them. He offers lame and desperate excuses for Aaron not being there, all the while knowing full well that none of them are likely. Something is wrong and he’s powerless to help.

Emily tells him why. He sort of forgets how to breathe.

Getting shot in the leg while simultaneously petrified for the livelihood of the person you’re in love with is inconvenient at best when trying to talk down an unsub and protect a victim and eventually fatal at worst, but somehow he half-manages and Tom escapes unscathed, though he isn’t quite as lucky with the unsub.

That’s what matters, really, isn’t it? That others are safe, even if it means he’s in danger? After all, Tom Barton has lives to save and a son to raise, a wide social circle, and a loving family. What does Spencer have? No, it’s much better that he’s the one hurt than anyone else.

Of course, once the adrenaline of the situation starts to wear off and medics arrive on scene, he realises quite how badly he’s hurt. Already feeling woozy, energy seems to seep out of him as roaring, raging agony takes its place. It’s the first time he’s ever been shot and it’s worse than he could have imagined: no amount of studying literature and anecdotal evidence could prepare him for the feeling of a small metal ball tearing through the flesh and muscle and tendons — though, hopefully, and judging by the amount of blood he’s lost, no arteries or large blood vessels — of his thigh.

His team arrives, minus Emily and minus Hotch, and they’re concerned, of course they are. That is, until he presents them with someone they see as much more important, someone whose life is worth something, someone they care about deeply being hurt. And they leave.

He doesn’t get a chance to tell the medics that he doesn’t want narcotics, so the ride to the hospital is a blur of morphine and voices talking to him, though he can’t quite piece together what they’re saying. He wonders vaguely where everybody is, whether Hotch is alright, whether he’s about to die, but no real emotion is attached to any of these thoughts, they just… are.

He’s rushed into surgery almost immediately after he arrives at the hospital, and the next thing he’s aware of is a dull, ever-present, agonising ache in his upper thigh and exhaustion settled into his bones like his body is pain’s home, fatigue’s resting place. The last time he’d blinked himself awake in a hospital bed, blinding pain burning in one part of his body or another, Derek had been sat by his bed, eating jello.

There’s nobody by his bed this time.

A PCA pump is resting by his right hand but he doesn’t touch it. Clearly, nobody from his team has informed the hospital staff of his previous addiction; he doesn’t even know if they’re at the hospital; if they know what’s going on. The morphine he’s already had is going to be hard enough to deal with, he can feel the future cravings itching beneath his skin already, scarred-over track marks simmering away.

It’s over twenty-five minutes of lying helplessly on a hospital bed in a cool, impersonal room, feeling a certain kind of emptiness sitting in his stomach, before a nurse comes by. She looks pleased enough to see him awake, but he doesn’t care about her satisfaction, he cares about his team, about Penelope, about Aaron, and he’s too exhausted to do anything about it.

“Good, you’re awake,” she says cheerily and for once, he doesn’t try and conceal his despondency. It’s oddly freeing. “I’ll get the doctor to come and explain the situation.”

She bumbles out of the room, clearly not fazed by Spencer’s expression, so he resumes staring at the wall, allowing his thoughts to wander, still not managing to attach much emotion to them other than a miserable sort of emptiness.

The doctor is nice enough, making sure he understands his injury and the procedures he’s had done, as well as the recovery ahead of him, but he just can’t bring himself to care. It’s as though this is the last straw; this is the proof, the evidence to win the case he’s been fighting in the court of his mind. His team doesn't care. His life is worthless. He will always, always be alone.

JJ stops by briefly. This feels like it should be a consolation, but it isn’t. He learns of what’s happened to Aaron, what his family is going through, and suddenly he feels selfish: how dare he demand and crave attention when Aaron is far more hurt and injured than he is? When he’s far more important and far more deserving of the team’s attention? Self-loathing creeps up his throat and settles into grey cotton wool that won’t melt in his mouth.

Spencer doesn’t know how to react to the incredibly overwhelming events of the day, and JJ doesn’t seem to have time for this. “Right, Spencer,” she says, visibly impatient with his emotional floundering, his lack of verbal response, “I need to go. We need to sort this out for Hotch. We owe it to him.”

She leaves, and all Spencer can think is how much more worthless not being able to work on his case makes him. If he can’t even work to save the man he loves; if he can’t strive effortlessly to protect him and make him happy, then what is he doing here? Aaron will be furious when he finds out Spencer laid in bed lazily instead of diving headfirst into the case.

No. That’s not true. He’ll be sickeningly nice about it, while on the inside suppressing his disappointment, and Spencer will feel even more guilty, he’ll be even more irate with himself, and life will seem just a little bit bleaker.

He’s discharged a few days later, and nobody has visited, barring JJ’s fleeting, impatient stop by. He goes home in a taxi and struggles up the stairs on his crutches, almost glad he didn’t have many personal items at the hospital. Then again, that was because he was completely isolated. And if he did have people to bring him things in the hospital, then he’d probably have someone to help him up the stairs too.

It’s a moot point, really. He dives straight for the non-narcotic painkillers he’d been prescribed as soon as he sits down on his dusty couch in his messy apartment, desperate to relieve at least some of the agony throbbing in his leg still. Clearly, the universe decided he wasn’t in enough pain already; that the unrequited love and the growing depression and the recurring stomach cramps and clenches in his chest weren’t quite sufficient.

He knows the team is working flat out on the Foyet case. But even Penelope, who probably works the hardest of all of them, has had time to send him an encouraging text message promising to pop round as soon as she can. Other than that, his phone is dry and his heart slowly freezing over.

Truthfully, he’s not sure how much more of this he can stand. He’s feeling the same way he did as a child: isolated, othered, hurt, and utterly, utterly alone. When he’d joined the BAU and was welcomed immediately into the arms of a family, he promised himself he’d never feel like that again. He would never, ever allow himself to sink so low; not when he was surrounded by so many people who proved day in day out how much they loved him. Surely, feeling like this would simply be impossible.

For once, Doctor Spencer Reid is proved wrong. And it burns, festers, and screams like nothing else.

Chapter Two

taglist:@criminalmindsvibez @suburban--gothic @strippersenseii @takeyourleap-of-faith @makaylajadewrites @iamrenstark @hotchseyebrows @reidology @i-like-buttons @spencerspecifics @bau-gremlin @hotchedyke @tobias-hankel @goobzoop @marsjareau @garcias-bitch (taglist form)

(I'm tagging my usual hotchreid taglist but let me know if you would not like to be tagged in this fic OR if you'd only like to be tagged once it's complete! Either fill in the taglist form again or DM me.)

[deberiaestarescribiendo]

Hit me with your best shot

A/N: Hey! I saw the #WritersWednesday challenge on @autumnleaves1991-blog blog and thought it was an amazing opportunity to let the creativity flow and though I just started showing my works on here I guess giving it a chance wouldn't hur anybody and maybe some of you would enjoy this as much as I did writing it. And on that note, I'd like to thank every writer on here because your works have helped me a lot during these weird times; and of course speacilly to you @autumnleaves1991-blog for this and your "You're my best friend" series that made me cry, yearn (so much yearning) and loved every single minute of it, thank you!

Pairing: Javier Peña x Female character ( I decided to leave her very undeterminated as it's narrated on Javi's perspective I decided to use she/her pronouns, but I guess you could read it as a f!reader?)

Summary: Post-season 3, Javi and the character go on a date to Laredo's funfair (You could read this as a small piece on its own or as a part of the series I'm currently writing; if you're interested is on my blog and I haven't posted much since I opened it)

Warning: None (let me know if I should mark something) fluff! maybe some kissing...

Another thing! I've just finished this, so brace yourselves for some mistakes and mispellings, sorry

(I was listening to Kacey Musgraves while writing this, if you want to add more fluff to it)

She’s lovely with that white summer dress, she’s tapping her feet nervously looking around the street waiting for his car to arrive, but Javi is parked on the side of the road chewing a nicorette that has already lost all its taste. He observes how she peeks at her watch. He’s already late and doesn’t know what would make him feel any more terrible: standing her up or going on a date with her like an old creep.

Come on, Peña he urges himself to make a decision, but before he can make up his mind, he hears the door unlocking.

“Hey! I thought something had caught you up” she smiles and any doubts he had had been lifted. Gosh she’s pretty

“Sorry, I’m late I had...” he can make up any excuse and he feels he’s just smiling like an idiot.

“Don’t worry” she seats and adjusts her dress shyly “I see we’re making progress” she motions to his mouth

“Oh, yeah, I’ve been very good.” Javi says proudly and follows the road full of car towards the fair “I haven’t had a smoke in...a month, I think”

“Congrats!” she cheers “You deserve a reward then” she grins

“Sure?” he smirks eying her briefly not losing the sight of the road

“Whatever you want” she nods

“But a cigarette, of course”

“Obvs” she chuckles

“Then I better think for a really good reward, I deserve it”

“Yep”

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

­­­­­­­­­She’s talking about the first time she came to the funfair being a child. Javier is listening partially; part of his focus is on everybody around them. It feels like all Laredo is there and they had been stopped a few times already by people that wanted to shake his hand and thank him for his service; and Javi starts to feel like the music is too loud, there’s too many people around them and that he doesn’t want to hear the word “hero” anymore. So he tries really hard to look at her, to concentrate his mind on how she interrupts her speech when she looks directly at him, how she blushes, how the warm breezes moves the baby hairs that frame that beautiful visage, how her lips shine with that chapstick she uses and that he’s dying to taste.

“Anyway we can do any ride but that one” she points at the big one in the middle that spins fast creating a wave of screams and laughter every time it makes a round “Unless you want me to puke all over your pretty plaid shirt”

“You like my shirt?” he smirks

“Yeah” she tucks a lock of her hair behind her ear “You look like a real cowboy” she adds. Her smile is brighter than any of the thousand small lights that illuminate the fair.

“I like your dress” Javier leaves his hand hang languidly close to hers until their skin brushes against each other. When he sees she doesn’t recoil, he grabs her hand locking his fingers with hers.

He can sense her nervousness, but hopes it’s the good kind. The exact same feeling he has at the moment, those soft palpitations that he hasn’t felt in years; the butterflies. Eventually she answers his compliment:

“Thanks, it was just 10$” instantly she looks down at her feet “God! I’m terrible at this”

“At what?” the people look at him and then at her, and then their gaze is fixed on their intertwined hands. Javi knows that the rumors are already spreading and hopes that whatever she’s going to hear about him in the next few days doesn’t ruin this.

“Dates...flirt...this” she points at him and then herself

“I cannot believe that” he counters

“Seriously? hey your dress is pretty; yes it cost me ten dollars” she mimics

“I thought it was cute”

“Cute?” she raises her right eyebrow

“Yes, you’re cute” Javi maintains

“You too” she admits

“Me?”

“Yeah! A pretty cute cowboy in plaid” she laughs

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

­­­­­­­­­­­­­­She makes him forget about this damn town, even Colombia and everything that happens seems a billion years away. If the people around them bother her, she doesn’t say. She doesn’t speak with him like anybody in town after he’s been back. For her it’s just Javi, and this Javi can have fun: he has shared a cotton candy with her, he has done some of the strongest rides even if his back is killing him, he has hold her waist when she jumped and screamed on the Tunnel of Terror and then laughed out loud when they got out.

“Javi!” she calls “We forgot about your reward for your first month without a smoke” she holds his hand and stars running towards the shooting gallery.

“You have five shots to win one of our wonderful set of prices. You just have to hit the little birds once”

The targets come and go up and down on the wheel, the paint on them is chipped, testimony of a long life in these funfairs and many missed shots. She takes one of the guns and closes one of her eyes aiming towards the wooden forms that spin on the wheel.

“Take a look of the plushies, cowboy, I’m gonna win you one” she says cockily

“Yeah, sure” he scoffs

“What? you don’t think I’m capable?” she turns towards him, gun still in her hand

“Wow, first of all, never point to somebody with a gun” Javi grabs the barrel and pushes it downwards “even if it’s not real, and second, open both of your eyes to aim” he explains

“Yes, sir. I forgot you were an agent. I better follow your orders, then” she winks at him and with a deep breath resumes her posture to take her first shot. Failing.

“Shit” she grunts “Have you chosen?” she points to the wall on the right full of stuff toys

“Erm...Does it matter?”

“Absolutely, come on, it motivates me”

The toys are horrendous; surely they’ve been doing their round around every fun fair in Texas for ages.

“Okay, one of the teddy bears” he agrees with a shrug

“No! no! be more specific” she scolds “Do you want the big one? the white one with the red bowtie? the brown with the small farmer hat? Or...Look!” she jumps excitedly “There’s a cowboy one, I’m gonna get you the cowboy” she nods and tries a second time, missing.

Javi mocks her and leans on her shaking in laughter.

“Yeah, really funny. Why don’t you try then?” she passes him the gun. After he has collected himself, he adjusts his posture and aims. Nothing.

She crosses her arms over her chest and observes him with an amused grin.

He doesn’t wait longer until he tries again and misses.

“You only got one left”

“Say goodbye to your teddy bear, cowboy” she whispers in his ear. Her sweet perfume and her voice distract him briefly. For a second he wants to throw the gun away and take her in his arms at last.

Javier shots again

“No luck today, sir, if you want to try again is three dollars”

Javi refuses the man with a gesture; she doesn’t say a thing for a minute, but then snorts and cries in laughter

“You’re lousy shot!” she screams

“You missed too” he defends

“Yeah, two shots, and you three, but who of us is a well trained agent, huh?” she sassed

Javi bites his lip, both hands on his hips; he knows there’s no way to defend his shitty shots.

“I still gained a reward though” he gazes at her

“Yeah, that’s true. What do you want then? I still have a few of dollars on me if you want a sundae or something”

“No, not that” he walks towards her and she instinctively recoils until she’s against the tent of the shooting gallery “I want something sweeter” he places his hands on her waist.

“Wh-hat?”

He bends and holds her at the same time, saving the height difference between them. He just brushes his lips against hers at first until she sighs and comes closer to him standing on her tiptoes. Javi deepens the kiss savoring the fruity chapstick she wears. Her lips are soft and sweet as he has imagined since he met her, her soft moans are music to his ears and he wants to hear more.

“Wow, you’re an incredible kisser, Javi Peña, but a terrible shot” she assures.

[kookie-doughs]

Y/N L/N AND THE HALFBLOODS

Percy Jackson X Reader

-Y/N L/N met Percy Jackson and everything was now ruined.

CHAPTER 15: Spiders Aren't Water Proof

The next afternoon, June 14, seven days before the solstice, our train rolled into Denver. We hadn't eaten since the night before in the dining car, somewhere in Kansas. We hadn't taken a shower since Half-Blood Hill, and I was sure that was obvious. "Let's try to contact Chiron," Annabeth said. "I want to tell him about your talk with the river spirit." "We can't use phones, right?" "I'm not talking about phones." We wandered through downtown for about half an hour, though I wasn't sure what Annabeth was looking for. The air was dry and hot, which felt weird after the humidity of St. Louis. Everywhere we turned, the Rocky Mountains seemed to be staring at me, like a tidal wave about to crash into the city. Finally we found an empty do-it-yourself car wash. We veered toward the stall farthest from the street, keeping our eyes open for patrol cars. We were four adolescents hanging out at a car wash without a car; any cop worth his doughnuts would figure we were up to no good. "What exactly are we doing?" Percy asked, as Grover took out the spray gun. "It's seventy-five cents," he grumbled. "I've only got two quarters left. Annabeth?" "Don't look at me," she said. "The dining car wiped me out." I fished out my last bit of change and passed Grover a quarter, which left me two nickels and one drachma from Medusa's place. "Excellent," Grover said. "We could do it with a spray bottle, of course, but the connection isn't as good, and my arm gets tired of pumping." "What are you talking about?" He fed in the quarters and set the knob to FINE MIST. "I-M'ing." "Instant messaging?" "Iris-messaging," Annabeth corrected. "The rainbow goddess Iris carries messages for the gods. If you know how to ask, and she's not too busy, she'll do the same for half-bloods." "You summon the goddess with a spray gun?" Grover pointed the nozzle in the air and water hissed out in a thick white mist. "Unless you know an easier way to make a rainbow."

Sure enough, late afternoon light filtered through the vapor and broke into colors. Annabeth held her palm out to me. "Drachma, please." I handed it over. She raised the coin over her head. "O goddess, accept our offering." She threw the drachma into the rainbow. It disappeared in a golden shimmer. "Half-Blood Hill," Annabeth requested. For a moment, nothing happened. Then I was looking through the mist at strawberry fields, and the Long Island Sound in the distance. We seemed to be on the porch of the Big House. Standing with his back to us at the railing was a sandy-haired guy in shorts and an orange tank top. He was holding a bronze sword and seemed to be staring intently at something down in the meadow. "Luke!" I called. He turned, eyes wide. I could swear he was standing three feet in front of me through a screen of mist, except I could only see the part of him that appeared in the rainbow. "Y/N!" His scarred face broke into a grin. "Is that Annabeth and Percy, too? Thank the gods! Are you guys okay?" "We're... uh... fine," Annabeth stammered. She was madly straightening her dirty T-shirt, trying to comb the loose hair out of her face. "We thought—Chiron—I mean—" "He's down at the cabins." Luke's smile faded. "We're having some issues with the campers. Listen, is everything cool with you? Is Grover all right?" "I'm right here," Grover called. He held the nozzle out to one side and stepped into Luke's line of vision. "What kind of issues?" Just then a big Lincoln Continental pulled into the car wash with its stereo turned to maximum hip-hop. As the car slid into the next stall, the bass from the subwoofers vibrated so much, it shook the pavement. "Chiron had to—what's that noise?" Luke yelled. "I'll take care of it.'" Annabeth yelled back, looking very relieved to have an excuse to get out of sight. "Grover, come on! "What?" Grover said. "But—" "Give Percy the nozzle and come on!" she ordered. Grover muttered something about girls being harder to understand than the Oracle at Delphi, then he handed me the spray gun and followed Annabeth. Percy readjusted the hose so we could keep the rainbow going and still see Luke. "Chiron had to break up a fight," Luke shouted to me over the music. "Things are pretty tense here, guys. Word leaked out about the Zeus—Poseidon standoff. We're still not sure how—probably the same scumbag who summoned the hellhound. Now the campers are starting to take sides. It's shaping up like the Trojan War all over again. Aphrodite, Ares, and Apollo are backing Poseidon, more or less. Athena is backing Zeus." In the next stall, I heard Annabeth and some guy arguing with each other, then the music's volume decreased drastically. "So what's your status?" Luke asked us. "Chiron will be sorry he missed you." We told him pretty much everything, including Percy's dreams. It felt so good to see him, to feel like I was back at camp even for a few minutes, that I didn't realize how long I had talked until the beeper went off on the spray machine, and I realized I only had one more minute before the water shut off. "I wish I could be there," Luke told me. "We can't help much from here, I'm afraid, but listen... it had to be Hades who took the master bolt. He was there at Olympus at the winter solstice. I was chaperoning a field trip and we saw him." "But Chiron said the gods can't take each other's magic items directly." "That's true," Luke said, looking troubled. "Still... Hades has the helm of darkness. How could anybody else sneak into the throne room and steal the master bolt? You'd have to be invisible." We were both silent, until Luke seemed to realize what he'd said. "Oh, hey," he protested. "I didn't mean Annabeth. She and I have known each other forever. She would never... I mean, she's like a little sister to me." I wondered if Annabeth would like that description. In the stall next to us, the music stopped completely. A man screamed in terror, car doors slammed, and the Lincoln peeled out of the car wash. "You'd better go see what that was," Luke said. "Listen, has the knife come in handy?" "Very..." I smiled. "The knife is really perfect." "And Percy, are you wearing the flying shoes? I'll feel better if I know they've done you some good." "Oh... uh, yeah!" Percy tried not to sound like a guilty liar. "Yeah, they've come in handy." "Really?" He grinned. "They fit and everything?" The water shut off. The mist started to evaporate. "Well, take care of yourself out there in Denver," Luke called, his voice getting fainter. "And tell Grover it'll be better this time! Nobody will get turned into a pine tree if he just—" But the mist was gone, and Luke's image faded to nothing. We were alone in a wet, empty car wash stall. Annabeth and Grover came around the corner, laughing, but stopped when they saw our face. Annabeth's smile faded. "What happened, Percy? What did Luke say?" "Not much," Percy lied. "Come on, let's find some dinner." A few minutes later, we were sitting at a booth in a gleaming chrome diner. All around us, families were eating burgers and drinking malts and sodas. Finally the waitress came over. She raised her eyebrow skeptically. "Well?" I said, "We, um, want to order dinner." "You kids have money to pay for it?" Grover's lower lip quivered. I was afraid he would start bleating, or worse, start eating the linoleum. Annabeth looked ready to pass out from hunger. I was trying to think up a sob story for the waitress when a rumble shook the whole building; a motorcycle the size of a baby elephant had pulled up to the curb. All conversation in the diner stopped. The motorcycle's headlight glared red. Its gas tank had flames painted on it, and a shotgun holster riveted to either side, complete with shotguns. The seat was leather—but leather that looked like... well, Caucasian human skin. The guy on the bike would've made pro wrestlers run for Mama. He was dressed in a red muscle shirt and black jeans and a black leather duster, with a hunting knife strapped to his thigh. He wore red wraparound shades, and he had the cruelest, most brutal face I'd ever seen— handsome, I guess, but wicked—with an oily black crew cut and cheeks that were scarred from many, many fights. The weird thing was, I felt like I'd seen his face somewhere before. As he walked into the diner, a hot, dry wind blew through the place. All the people rose, as if they were hypnotized, but the biker waved his hand dismissively and they all sat down again. Everybody went back to their conversations. The waitress blinked, as if somebody had just pressed the rewind button on her brain. She asked us again, "You kids have money to pay for it?" The biker said, "It's on me." He slid into our booth, which was way too small for him, and crowded Annabeth against the window. He looked up at the waitress, who was gaping at him, and said, "Are you still here?" He pointed at her, and she stiffened. She turned as if she'd been spun around, then marched back toward the kitchen. The biker looked at me. I couldn't see his eyes behind the red shades. Who did this guy think he was? He gave me a wicked grin. "So you're the unclaimed kid, huh? No wonder they're arguing over who your parent is." I squinted at him, "The hell does my parents have to do with this?" "Well, which ever stuck up your parent is, the big guys upstairs are angry for interfering with your life." He said and placed his dirty boots on the table. "Your parent raised you with your mortal idiots, that's why no one can smell you." I could tell Annabeth wanted to say something but she probably was processing what this guy said. "Don't call my parents idiot. And I only have two parents, it's M/N and D/N L/N." I glared. I was confused as to why an Olympian would raise me and it'd hide my scent. Shouldn't it make worse? "Sure thing." He then turned to Percy who was beside me. "And old seaweed's kid." "What's it to you?" Percy spat. Annabeth's eyes flashed him a warning. "Percy, this is—" The biker raised his hand. "S'okay," he said. "I don't mind a little attitude. Long as you remember who's the boss. You know who I am, little cousin?" Then it struck me why this guy looked familiar. He had the same vicious sneer as some of the kids at Camp Half-Blood, the ones from cabin five. "You're Clarisse's dad," Percy said. "Ares, god of war." Ares grinned and took off his shades. Where his eyes should've been, there was only fire, empty sockets glowing with miniature nuclear explosions. "That's right, punk. I heard you broke Clarisse's spear." "She was asking for it." "Probably. That's cool. I don't fight my kids' fights, you know? What I'm here for—I heard you were in town. I got a little proposition for you." The waitress came back with heaping trays of food—cheeseburgers, fries, onion rings, and chocolate shakes. Ares handed her a few gold drachmas. She looked nervously at the coins. "But, these aren't..." Ares pulled out his huge knife and started cleaning his fingernails. "Problem, sweetheart?" The waitress swallowed, then left with the gold. "You can't do that," I told Ares. "You can't just threaten people with a knife." Ares laughed. "Are you kidding? I love this country. Best place since Sparta. Don't you carry a weapon, punk? You should. Dangerous world out there. Which brings me to my proposition." He turned to Percy, "I need you to do me a favor." "What favor could I do for a god?" "Something a god doesn't have time to do himself. It's nothing much. I left my shield at an abandoned water park here in town. I was going on a little... date with my girlfriend. We were interrupted. I left my shield behind. I want you to fetch it for me." "Why don't you go back and get it yourself?" The fire in his eye sockets glowed a little hotter. "Why don't I turn you into a prairie dog and run you over with my Harley? Because I don't feel like it. A god is giving you an opportunity to prove yourself, Percy Jackson. Will you prove yourself a coward?" He leaned forward. "Or maybe you only fight when there's a river to dive into, so your daddy can protect you." I wanted to punch this guy, but I knew he was waiting for that. He'd love it if I attacked. I didn't want to give him the satisfaction. But by the gods I want to smack him. Maybe some other time. "We're not interested," I said. "We've already got a quest." Ares's fiery eyes made me see things I didn't want to see—blood and smoke and corpses on the battlefield. "I know all about your quest, punk. When that item was first stolen, Zeus sent his best out looking for it: Apollo, Athena, Artemis, and me, naturally. If I couldn't sniff out a weapon that powerful..." He licked his lips, as if the very thought of the master bolt made him hungry. "Well... if I couldn't find it, you got no hope. Nevertheless, I'm trying to give you the benefit of the doubt. Your dad and I go way back. After all, I'm the one who told him my suspicions about old Corpse Breath." "You told him Hades stole the bolt?" "Sure. Framing somebody to start a war. Oldest trick in the book. I recognized it immediately. In a way, you got me to thank for your little quest." "Thanks," Percy grumbled. "Hey, I'm a generous guy. Just do my little job, and I'll help you on your way. I'll arrange a ride west for you and your friends." "We're doing fine on our own." "Yeah, right. No money. No wheels. No clue what you're up against. Help me out, and maybe I'll tell you something you need to know. Something about your mom and Y/N's parents." "Our parents?" He grinned. "That got your attention. The water park is a mile west on Delancy. You can't miss it. Look for the Tunnel of Love ride." "What interrupted your date?" I asked. "Something scare you off?" Ares bared his teeth, but I'd seen his threatening look before on Clarisse. There was something false about it, almost like he was nervous. "You're lucky you met me, punk, and not one of the other Olympians. They're not as forgiving of rudeness as I am. I'll meet you back here when you're done. Don't disappoint me." After that I must have fainted, or fallen into a trance, because when I opened my eyes again, Ares was gone. I might've thought the conversation had been a dream, but Annabeth and Grover's expressions told me otherwise. "Not good," Grover said. "Ares sought you out, Percy. This is not good." I stared out the window. The motorcycle had disappeared. Did Ares really know something about our parents, or was he just playing with me? Now that he was gone, all the anger had drained out of me. I realized Ares must love to mess with people's emotions. That was his power—cranking up the passions so badly, they clouded your ability to think. He does not lie. He knows about your parents. "It's probably some kind of trick, Y/N," Percy said. "Forget Ares. Let's just go." "We can't," Annabeth said. "Look, I hate Ares as much as anybody, but you don't ignore the gods unless you want serious bad fortune. He wasn't kidding about turning you into a rodent." "Why does he need us?" "Maybe it's a problem that requires brains," Annabeth said. "Ares has strength. That's all he has. Even strength has to bow to wisdom sometimes." "But this water park... he acted almost scared. What would make a war god run away like that?" Annabeth and Grover glanced nervously at each other. Annabeth said, "I'm afraid we'll have to find out." The sun was sinking behind the mountains by the time we found the water park. Judging from the sign, it once had been called WATERLAND, but now some of the letters were smashed out, so it read WAT R A D. The main gate was padlocked and topped with barbed wire. Inside, huge dry waterslides and tubes and pipes curled everywhere, leading to empty pools. Old tickets and advertisements fluttered around the asphalt. With night coming on, the place looked sad and creepy. "If Ares brings his girlfriend here for a date," I said, staring up at the barbed wire, "I'd hate to see what she looks like." "Y/N," Annabeth warned. "Be more respectful." "Why? I thought you hated Ares." "He's still a god. And his girlfriend is very temperamental." "You don't want to insult her looks," Grover added. "Who is she? Echidna?" "No, Aphrodite," Grover said, a little dreamily. "Goddess of love." "I thought she was married to somebody," Percy said. "Hephaestus." "What's your point?" he asked. I suddenly felt the need to change the subject. "So how do we get in?" "Maia!" Grover's shoes sprouted wings. He flew over the fence, did an unintended somersault in midair, then stumbled to a landing on the opposite side. He dusted off his jeans, as if he'd planned the whole thing. "You guys coming?" Annabeth, Percy and I had to climb the old-fashioned way, holding down the barbed wire for each other as we crawled over the top. The shadows grew long as we walked through the park, checking out the attractions. There was Ankle Biter Island, Head Over Wedgie, and Dude, Where's My Swimsuit? No monsters came to get us. Nothing made the slightest noise. We found a souvenir shop that had been left open. Merchandise still lined the shelves: snow globes, pencils, postcards, and racks of— "Clothes," Annabeth said. "Fresh clothes." "Oh my gods yes." "Yeah," Percy said. "But you can't just—" "Watch us." She snatched an entire row of stuff of the racks and offered me a hand which I graciously took, together we disappeared into the changing room. "I need a shower." I groaned, while I changed. "We all do." She pointed out. A few minutes later we came out in Waterland flower-print shorts, a big red Waterland T-shirt, and commemorative Waterland surf shoes. A Waterland backpack was slung over our shoulders, obviously stuffed with more goodies. "What the heck." Grover shrugged. Soon, all three of us were decked out like walking advertisements for the defunct theme park. We continued searching for the Tunnel of Love. I got the feeling that the whole park was holding its breath. "So Ares and Aphrodite," Percy said, to keep my mind off the growing dark, "they have a thing going?" "That's old gossip, Percy," Annabeth told us. "Three-thousand-year-old gossip." "What about Aphrodite's husband?" "Well, you know," she said. "Hephaestus. The blacksmith. He was crippled when he was a baby, thrown off Mount Olympus by Zeus. So he isn't exactly handsome. Clever with his hands, and all, but Aphrodite isn't into brains and talent, you know?" "She likes bikers." "Whatever." "Hephaestus knows?" "Oh sure," Annabeth said. "He caught them together once. I mean, literally caught them, in a golden net, and invited all the gods to come and laugh at them. Hephaestus is always trying to embarrass them. That's why they meet in out-of-the-way places, like..." She stopped, looking straight ahead. "Like that." In front of us was an empty pool that would've been awesome for skateboarding. It was at least fifty yards across and shaped like a bowl. Around the rim, a dozen bronze statues of Cupid stood guard with wings spread and bows ready to fire. On the opposite side from us, a tunnel opened up, probably where the water flowed into when the pool was full. The sign above it read, THRILL RIDE O' LOVE: THIS IS NOT YOUR PARENTS' TUNNEL OF LOVE! Grover crept toward the edge. "Guys, look." Marooned at the bottom of the pool was a pink-and-white two-seater boat with a canopy over the top and little hearts painted all over it. In the left seat, glinting in the fading light, was Ares's shield, a polished circle of bronze. "This is too easy," I said. "So we just walk down there and get it?" Annabeth ran her fingers along the base of the nearest Cupid statue. "There's a Greek letter carved here," she said. "Eta. I wonder..." "Grover," Percy said, "you smell any monsters?" He sniffed the wind. "Nothing." "Nothing—like, in-the-Arch-and-you-didn't-smell-Echidna nothing, or really nothing?" Grover looked hurt. "I told you, that was underground." "Hey Percy, that wasn't nice." I glared. "Okay, I'm sorry." Percy took a deep breath. "I'm going down there." Pulling out my knife, "There isn't any monsters." "I'll go with Percy." Grover didn't sound too enthusiastic, but I got the feeling he was trying to make up for what had happened in St. Louis. "No," Percy told him. "I want you to stay up top with the flying shoes. You're the Red Baron, a flying ace, remember? I'll be counting on you for backup, in case something goes wrong." Grover puffed up his chest a little. "Sure. But what could go wrong?" "I don't know. Just a feeling. Y/N, will go with me—" "Yeah, I can go with." "Didn't take you as a romantic Seaweed Brain." Annabeth smirked. "What?" Percy's face was burning now, too. It made me laugh at how adorable he was. He turned to me and blushed even more. "Fine," he told us. "I'll do it myself." "Percy, I didn't say i don't want to come with!" I giggled. He started down the side of the pool, I followed, I hear him muttering about how this wasn't how its supposed go. Then I realized how we would've been surrounded by water. "Arthur Curry, if I drown I will beg Hades to have you." He paused and turned to take my hand and we continued walking. We reached the boat. The shield was propped on one seat, and next to it was a lady's silk scarf. I tried to imagine Ares and Aphrodite here, a couple of gods meeting in a junked-out amusement-park ride. Why? Then I noticed something I hadn't seen from up top: mirrors all the way around the rim of the pool, facing this spot. We could see ourselves no matter which direction we looked. That must be it. While Ares and Aphrodite were smooching with each other they could look at their favorite people: themselves. Percy picked up the scarf. It shimmered pink, and the perfume was indescribable—rose, or mountain laurel. He smiled, a little dreamy, and was about to rub the scarf against his cheek I frowned ripped it out of his hand and stuffed it in me pocket. "No." "What?" "Just get the shield, Arthur Curry, and let's get out of here." The moment he touched the shield, I knew we were in trouble. My hand broke through something that had been connecting it to the dashboard. A cobweb, I thought, but then I looked at a strand of it on my palm and saw it was some kind of metal filament, so fine it was almost invisible. A trip wire. "Wait," I said. "Too late." "There's another Greek letter on the side of the boat, another Eta. This is a trap." Noise erupted all around us, of a million gears grinding, as if the whole pool were turning into one giant machine. Grover yelled, "Guys!" Up on the rim, the Cupid statues were drawing their bows into firing position. Before I could suggest taking cover, they shot, but not at us. They fired at each other, across the rim of the pool. Silky cables trailed from the arrows, arcing over the pool and anchoring where they landed to form a huge golden asterisk. Then smaller metallic threads started weaving together magically between the main strands, making a net. "We have to get out," Percy said. "Woah I didn't know!" I said. Percy grabbed the shield and holding my hand we ran, but going up the slope of the pool was not as easy as going down. "I'm going to drown again aren't I? "Come on!" Grover shouted. He was trying to hold open a section of the net for us, but wherever he touched it, the golden threads started to wrap around his hands. The Cupids' heads popped open. Out came video cameras. Spotlights rose up all around the pool, blinding us with illumination, and a loudspeaker voice boomed: "Live to Olympus in one minute ... Fifty-nine seconds, fifty-eight ..." "Hephaestus!" Annabeth screamed. "I'm so stupid.' Eta is H.' He made this trap to catch his wife with Ares. Now we're going to be broadcast live to Olympus and look like absolute fools!" We'd almost made it to the rim when the row of mirrors opened like hatches and thousands of tiny metallic... things poured out. It was an army of wind-up creepy-crawlies: bronze-gear bodies, spindly legs, little pincer mouths, all scuttling toward us in a wave of clacking, whirring metal. "Spiders!" I said. I kicked these pests. Percy pulled me up and dragged my back toward the boat. "I am not staying here! I am so going to drown again!" The things were coming out from all around the rim now, millions of them, flooding toward the center of the pool, completely surrounding us. I told myself they probably weren't programmed to kill, just corral us and bite us and make us look stupid. Then again, this was a trap meant for gods. And we weren't gods. Percy and I climbed into the boat. Percy started kicking away the spiders as they swarmed aboard. I was swatting away some that I could. "Thirty, twenty-nine," called the loudspeaker. The spiders started spitting out strands of metal thread, trying to tie us down. The strands were easy enough to break at first, but there were so many of them, and the spiders just kept coming. I kicked one away from Percy's leg and its pincers took a chunk out of my new surf shoe. Annabeth was frozen from where she stood trying to keep away from us as much as possible. Grover hovered above the pool in his flying sneakers, trying to pull the net loose, but it wouldn't budge. Think, I told myself. Think. The Tunnel of Love entrance was under the net. We could use it as an exit, except that it was blocked by a million robot spiders. "Fifteen, fourteen," the loudspeaker called. Then I saw them: huge water pipes behind the mirrors, where the spiders had come from. And up above the net, next to one of the Cupids, a glass-windowed booth that must be the controller's station. "Annabeth!" Percy yelled. "Get into that booth! Find the 'on' switch!" Snapping out of her trance she turned. "But—" "Do it!" Annabeth was in the controller's booth now, staring at the buttons. "Five, four—" Annabeth sighed and started pushing every button, then looked up at us hopelessly, raising her hands. She was letting us know that she'd pushed every button, but still nothing was happening. "Y/N, I won't let you drown, just hold on!" I didn't think twice on nodding. Percy closed his eyes. "Two, one, zero!" Water exploded out of the pipes. It roared into the pool, sweeping away the spiders. He pulled me into the seat next to us and fastened me seat belt just as the tidal wave slammed into our boat, over the top, whisking the spiders away and dousing us completely, but not capsizing us. The boat turned, lifted in the flood, and spun in circles around the whirlpool. He held my hand tight afraid I'll drown the moment he lets go. The water was full of short-circuiting spiders, some of them smashing against the pool's concrete wall with such force they burst. Spotlights glared down at us. The Cupid-cams were rolling, live to Olympus. Percy and I held tight, both of us screaming as the boat shot curls and hugged corners and took forty-five-degree plunges past pictures of Romeo and Juliet and a bunch of other Valentine's Day stuff. Then we were out of the tunnel, the night air whistling through our hair as the boat barreled straight toward the exit. If the ride had been in working order, we would've sailed off a ramp between the golden Gates of Love and splashed down safely in the exit pool. But there was a problem. The Gates of Love were chained. Two boats that had been washed out of the tunnel before us were now piled against the barricade—one submerged, the other cracked in half. Jump. We have to jump. "Unfasten your seat belt," I yelled to Percy. Who already had his belt unfastened. "Jumping?" "We're going to have to jump for it." My idea was simple and insane. As the boat struck, we would use its force like a springboard to jump the gate. I'd heard of people surviving car crashes that way, getting thrown thirty or forty feet away from an accident. With luck, we would land in the pool. Hopefully not drown. Percy nodded. He gripped my hand as the gates got closer. "On my mark," I said. On mine. Jump when 'I' say so Perseus Jackson. He looked at me reluctantly. "How?" "What?" You'll know when I say so. "Fine." He shouted. "Jump when I jump!" "How would I know?!" "You'll say it!" "What?!" "Just tell me when to jump!!" "Now!" I yelled. I was about to jump when Percy pulled me closer. "Not yet! You didn't say it yet." Jump Hero. Percy jumped. I followed him. Crack! He was right. If we'd jumped when I thought we should've, we would've crashed into the gates. He got us maximum lift. Our boat smashed into the pileup and we were thrown into the air, straight over the gates, the pool was getting closer. I was going to drown again. Something grabbed me from behind. I yelled, "Ouch!" Grover! In midair, he had grabbed Percy by the shirt, and me by the arm, and was trying to pull us out of a crash landing, but we had all the momentum. "You're too heavy!" Grover said. "We're going down!" We spiraled toward the ground, Grover doing his best to slow the fall. We smashed into a photo-board, Grover's head going straight into the hole where tourists would put their faces, pretending to be Noo-Noo the Friendly Whale. Percy and I tumbled to the ground, banged up but alive. Ares's shield was still on Percy's arm. "Are you okay?" Percy panted. "Yeah... I didn't drown." Once we caught our breath, Percy and I went over to help Annabeth who was getting Grover out of the photo-board and thanked him for saving our lives. I looked back at the Thrill Ride of Love. The water was subsiding. Our boat had been smashed to pieces against the gates. A hundred yards away, at the entrance pool, the Cupids were still filming. The statues had swiveled so that their cameras were trained straight on us, the spotlights in our faces. I walked closer, "You guys suck." I blew blasphemy at the camera. Percy pulled me away. "Show's over!" Percy yelled. "Thank you! Good night!" The Cupids turned back to their original positions. The lights shut off. The park went quiet and dark again, except for the gentle trickle of water into the Thrill Ride of Love's exit pool. I wondered if Olympus had gone to a commercial break, or if our ratings had been any good. I hated being teased. I hated being tricked. And I had plenty of experience handling bullies who liked to do that stuff to me. Percy hefted the shield on his arm and turned to us friends. "We need to have a little talk with Ares."

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[lvllns]

it don't matter to me (wherever we are is where i wanna be)

the wayhaven chronicles. felix hauville x kincaid anderson (nb detective). teen and up rating for language. established relationship, mostly fluff with some angst. 1300+ words. — let's take our chances and roll the dice, chapter 1 of 3.

notes: this is just an excuse to write felix meeting the people kincaid considers family. i’m taking some liberties with the detective’s backstory but listen, i made a 6′5 cowboy, i’m gonna exploit the cowboy part of it.

[ao3 link]

—

Kincaid throws his truck into park with a sigh, but when Felix glances over, concerned, he only finds him smiling so wide his dimples are visible.

The ranch sprawls out in front of them, an endless sea of grass broken up by various buildings. Felix thinks he can see the barn from here, tucked to the right behind the house. A few cattle lift their heads, ears flicking forward with momentary curiosity before they return to grazing. He inhales. Deep. Lets the air fill his lungs and yeah, it smells like cows mostly. Little bit sweet from the grass, and a whole lot of just dirt.

It smells like cows and dirt.

He startles when Kincaid reaches over and takes his hand, bringing his knuckles to his lips for a brief kiss as he murmurs, “Thank you for agreein’ to come,” against his skin.

Felix shrugs, eyes darting from Kincaid to the land around them. “Why wouldn’t I?” He tilts his head, eyebrows knitting together as he focuses on Kincaid once more. “You’re important to me and they’re all important to you. I’d have to meet them eventually.”

Kincaid pulls his head back, thumb rubbing over the bumps of Felix’s knuckles. There’s something in his eyes Felix can’t place. Soft, tender. The bright green of them mellowing as the corner of his mouth lifts. “Extenuating circumstances and all that.” Kincaid shifts. Felix thinks about how this wasn’t supposed to happen. How Adam brought up a laundry list of issues surrounding the both of them going all the way out here for two days. What about food? I’m not trying to stop you two from doing this, but you need to be realistic about the situation. “I’ve...never actually brought anyone else here,” he says with a soft laugh. “Never really wanted to if I’m bein’ honest.”

“I’m special then?” Felix means it to be a lighthearted quip. A way to snap the tension in the cab of the truck, and he is caught off-guard by how earnest Kincaid’s expression becomes.

His hand is raised to Kincaid’s mouth again. Another soft kiss, another sentence whispered against his knuckles even as those moss bright eyes steadily hold his gaze. “You are...so special to me Felix.” He swallows around the sudden lump in his throat, watching as Kincaid lowers his hand once more. “You have no idea.”

Words stick at the back of his tongue. He means to say them, he does, but a woman comes hurrying out of the house hollering Kincaid’s name and the moment is gone.

A feather on the wind.

Kincaid tosses him a soft smile and throws his door open. “Stephanie!”

Felix slips from the car, his door shutting with a soft thunk, and he watches the two of them quietly.

She’s a good foot shorter than Kincaid, brown hair streaked with grey, but her dark eyes are sharp and clear. She—Stephanie—whacks Kincaid on the chest with the towel she’s holding and Felix watches as his giant of a partner shrinks in on himself, cheeks going red.

“Kincaid Everett Anderson, you don’t call for weeks and then you just show up!” Felix half expects her to swat at him again but she pulls him in for a hug. A kiss on his cheek. “We’ve missed you terribly.”

“I’ve been textin’ Jase, if he ain’t—”

“Hasn’t.”

Kincaid clears his throat. Glances at Felix, but all he can do is try to stifle his laughter. When it becomes clear he’s not going to be any help, Kincaid continues. “Right, sorry ma’am. If he hasn’t been telling you, that’s not—”

“How hard would it be to send me a text, hm?” She pinches his ear, a fond smile on her face, and Kincaid bats at her hand half-heartedly. “It’s calving season, Jason can hardly remember what day it is.” Felix snorts and regrets it immediately when that keen gaze is trained on him. Kincaid gets whacked in the chest with the towel. Again. “Who’d you bring with you?” Stephanie’s voice is much softer now, the corners of her eyes gentling. Felix tries not to think about I’ve never brought anybody here before and fails.

“Steph, this is Felix. Felix, Stephanie.” He watches Kincaid toe at the dirt with his boot, shoulders curling forward just a little bit more. “He’s my boyfriend. We’re dating.”

There’s a beat and Felix almost expects this to go sideways immediately but he finds himself wrapped in a monster of a hug by this tiny woman and oh, she is much stronger than he expected. Iron bands for arms as she squeezes him tight. He reacts out of instinct, hugging her back, and then it’s over. Her hands rest on his shoulders as she looks him up and down before nodding.

“It is about time you brought somebody out here Kincaid.” She grins. “It’s lovely to meet you, Felix.”

His head hurts a little bit. This is a lot. He takes a second to settle himself before flashing the most charming smile he can. “You as well.”

Stephanie pats his arm absently. “Everyone is inside, but I suppose you’ll be heading to the barn to drop your stuff off.”

Felix senses Kincaid scoot closer and closer until their arms are brushing, fingers knocking together. “We’re sleeping in the barn?” He quirks a brow. Looks up at Kincaid who chuckles.

“There’s an apartment above, like a second story.” Felix nods as he looks beyond the house to what he assumes in the barn.

“It’s where Kincaid slept most nights as a kid,” Stephanie says, voice fond and faraway. She shakes her head. “Anyway, go.” The towel is now aimed at both of them, flicking their direction. Felix laughs as he dances away. “I’ll tell everyone else you’re here, I expect y’all will be riding before long.”

Kincaid grins and it’s bright. Blinding. A flash of white teeth and metal. He suffers another hit with the towel before they finally break away and head back to the truck. Felix leans against the door as he watches Kincaid grab the single backpack they shoved all their stuff in. Not much for one single night, a change of clothes and toothbrushes mostly. He takes another deep breath (Remember Felix, you need to at least try to breathe regularly.) and taps his fingers together. It’s so quiet. Which is fine, mostly. It’s just, Felix is so used to activity and the constant moving from case to case, and it’s so weird to be able to shut down. To stop running. To sit down and soak in the peace of the countryside.

“Fee?” He doesn’t startle but it’s a near thing, head twisting to find Kincaid looking at him carefully. Concerned. “Ya okay?”

His accent is getting thicker, he thinks. Felix nods. “Fine. It’s just quiet out here.”

Kincaid hums. Wraps his arm around Felix’s shoulders and steps close. He drops a kiss to the top of his head. His temple. “If you wanna go back tonight—”

“No!” He tips his head up, eyes narrowing. “It’s just not something I’m used to, how still and silent it is. I’ll be okay.”

“Ya sure?” Felix nods. Kincaid kisses his cheek. “‘Kay, but you tell me if you need anything?”

“Right, if it’s too quiet I’ll ask you about your motorcycle.”

Kincaid snorts. “Hey, you said it.” Felix rolls his eyes, unable to mask the smile that splits his face.

Another kiss to his cheek and then Kincaid finally, finally, kisses him properly. He leans up as Kincaid leans down and it’s so good. It always is. His lips are a little chapped, but Felix doesn’t care. He wraps his arms around Kincaid. Pulls him closer until they’re seamed together from chest to hips. He could do this all day and all night. Really. It’s not like he needs to—

Kincaid pulls away to take a deep breath and it’s gratifying how flushed he is. Cheeks pink, the color mixing with the freckles that cover his skin. His eyes are blown black, only the thinnest ring of green visible. He clears his throat before, “We should, uh, our stuff.”

Felix takes pity on him. Backs away and takes his hand, lacing their fingers together. “Come on cowboy, show me around.”

[platypanthewriter]

Hook Possum 3/4

Art by @monsdasarah​ for Harringrove Big Bang!

PART ONE | TWO

The next morning, Steve did the First Aid class.  “Hook Possum here has offered to help—” he began.

“What?!” Hook Possum hissed, as the kids shoved him forward, laughing, and Steve paced around like a drill sergeant.  

He’d always liked teaching first aid.  “Attention up here, everybody!” he shouted, grinning.  “Who knows when to yell for help?  You?” he pointed to a wide-eyed kid who shook his head.  “We call ‘em the Big Bs,” Steve told the kids, crossing his arms.  “Bleeding, breathing, barf, burns, bones, and bites.”

“Barf,” giggled a little girl.

“If anything is happening like that—bleeding, anything wrong with someone’s breathing, you see barf—” Steve paused, gratified to see Hook Possum miming a gouting wound, gasping for air, and puking his guts up.  “—if anybody gets burned—” Hook Possum grasped his hooked paw, frowned at it, and yelled “My paw got burned off!”, and everybody laughed uproariously.  

“If anything happens to anyone’s bones—” Steve went on, and got to see Hook Possum clutching at his leg, “—or if anyone or anything’s teeth breath somebody's skin—” he ignored Hook Possum yelling about vampires, trying to keep a straight face.  “If any of the Big Bs happen, you need an adult, okay?  We’re gonna need to take a look at it, and maybe take that kid to the doctor.”

“Okaaaaay,” the kids chorused, most of them looking faintly rebellious.  

“A lot of it we can handle here, though,” Steve told them, and several brightened.  “Lemme show you all your way around a first aid kit.”  

Steve demonstrated how to bandage a possum, diagnose a possum with heatstroke, splint a possum’s tail, and he pretended to give him a shot with the new epi-pen, in case of bee allergies.  At the end, he let all the kids play with the gauze bandages he’d used, and a box of band-aids.

Hook Possum didn’t look any less uncanny with his face covered in Scooby Doo and Sesame Street band-aids.  It almost made him worse, somehow, because your eyes caught on the cartoony band-aids first, and then processed the mangy, vacant-eyed, toothy head.  

The possum did look hilarious all trussed up in bandages, and one little girl tried so hard to make a sling, she wrapped the bandage around his neck and pulled, and Hook Possum gagged, twitched, and slumped onto the picnic table Steve had been using for demonstrations.  

“If you can’t help them, you gotta at least hide the body,” Steve told everyone, his cheeks hurting with how wide he was grinning.  “What’s the campsite rule?”

“Leave it cleaner than you found it,” they chorused, watching Hook Possum’s twitching legs in the air.  

“We could tie some rocks to him and dump him in the lake,” a very small girl in pink ruffled overalls suggested, and the kids around her edged away.

“Now, hang on,” Steve told them.  “Remember a possum is actually unconscious if it’s ‘playing dead’.  It makes an awful smell, but if you leave it alone, sometimes they’ll wake up and wander off.  We should probably leave Hook Possum alone for a while.”

Around then, Robin called for lunch, and the kids started to wander off.

“Don’t you dare leave me tied up,” Hook Possum hissed, and Steve patted his shoulder, and told him to stay there.  While the kids were straggling into the mess tent, Steve ran and got the old camp camera, and took about five pictures of Hook Possum trussed like a turkey.  “You utter asshole,” he hissed flatly, but he was laughing, Steve could tell.

After lunch, there was a mud flats exploration party, and the kids all ran off with buckets.  Steve got Hook Possum some cool water, and closed his eyes politely as the mask was removed.  

“When you gonna let me look?” he asked, laughing.  “It’s not like I’m gonna tell anybody.  You gonna keep this up for weeks?”

“...I need the bonus,” Hook Possum muttered.

“Yeah, I know,” Steve told him, “—but you’ve got the mask off already, what difference does it make if I see you?  There’s nobody else around!”

“Leave it alone, Harrington,” Hook Possum growled, and Steve felt the picnic bench shift.  When he called out, and then dared open his eyes, several minutes later, Hook Possum was gone.

After that, Steve didn’t ask.  He encountered Hook Possum a few times in the showers—late in the Indiana night, when it felt like every breath was clingingly hot, and only the shower stalls were cool.  

“Don’t turn the light on,” Hook Possum always hissed, and Steve snorted a laugh, shaking his head.  

“I won’t, dude,” he always said, and they’d talk, some, in neighboring stalls, just letting the water wash away the sweaty heat of the night.  

Hook Possum was moving to the west coast, he said, and Steve felt a pang at that, the same as he’d seen in Max.  “It cools off at night there,” he said dryly, and Steve just bit his lips together, nodding.

“Hard to argue with,” he admitted.  “Uh, when...when are you leaving?”

“As soon as I pack after camp,” Hook Possum said, a little muffled, like he was washing his face.  “Why stick around Hawkins.”

“Oh,” Steve said, nodding again.  He couldn’t really think of anything to say, so he focused on scrubbing the sap off his toes from the conifer right by their cabin.  

 Every night, the Hook Possum stories got more in-depth.  “One full moon, a girl and her boyfriend drove out to this very campground and parked,” Robin began, as some of the kids said ‘why?’ and others said ‘ew!’.  “He was driving,” she said, leaning in, so the light of the campfire lit her face from underneath, “—and even though it was past midnight, and she asked and asked to go home, he wouldn’t start the car.”

Some of the kids looked unimpressed, but some of them were listening avidly.  

“He looked at her,” Robin said, “—and he smiled, and he said ‘Nobody knows I brought you here.’”

“He’s gonna sink her in the lake, with rocks,” said the tiny girl in the ruffled pink overalls.

Robin high-fived her, and then leaned in again.  “The boyfriend grabbed her arm and twisted it around, and whispered, ‘Nobody knows where you are’, and the girl screamed, because her arm felt like it would break.  ‘You know what I want,’ he said.”

Steve knew his cue, and he reached down behind the log he was sitting on to scrape the fire poker along the hatchet they’d used to cut kindling, making a long, metallic scrape.  A couple of kids shrieked, looking around.  

“Just then!” Robin shouted, standing up, and more kids yelled, “—the two heard a ripping, metallic noise on the roof of the car.  The boyfriend was so angry he shook the girl, and then yelled ‘What the hell is that?!’, but she didn’t know.” 

Steve scraped the poker on the hatchet again, angling it for a sharper, higher-pitched noise.  

“Something scraped along the door, and the girl screamed again, because she was already so afraid.  She’d been thinking of opening the door and running into the woods, but as something scraped the door again—”

Steve scraped them together as loud as he could, having practiced with Robin beforehand, and everyone yelped and winced.  Even Robin’s eye twitched at the awful noise.  

“—the girl begged her boyfriend not to get out of the car.”

“But he did,” whispered one of the kids, eyes wide.

“He did.  He left her there.  Once he got out, though, the noise didn’t come again, and she sat, listening, and crying.  She heard him scream, the way she had, when the bones of her arm creaked in his grip.”

The kids were rapt, and El met her cue with a branch-shuddering wind, making the whole clearing full of campers shriek.  

“Did she get out of the car?!” Pink Overalls asked, urgently, and Robin shook her head.  

“She heard branches break, and then, crashing through the underbrush.  It might have been more screams, or it might have been the wind.  The girl curled in her coat, staring at the blackness through the windows, and when she felt another thud against the car, and—” Steve scraped the hatchet with the poker again, long and grating, and a kid moaned.  Robin lowered her voice, and the kids leaned closer to hear.  “Heard another noise, like something scratching to get in, the girl locked the doors.”

Robin waited several beats, her face darker and more red as the fire burned down to coals.  “In the morning, the girl woke to find her boyfriend pinned to the driver’s side door with a massive hook through his hand.  He was whimpering, staring into the forest, and he didn’t respond to her voice.  His hair was white.”

“Hook Possum,” gasped Pink Overalls, and everyone turned to stare.

“Hey, he got what was coming,” Hook Possum said.

 That night, predictably, a bunch of kids came looking for Hook Possum.  “There are floating lights,” one squeaked, pointing, and Steve bit back a laugh, remembering seeing the marsh gas and fireflies as a kid.  “It’s Hook Possum,” he whispered, but the kid shook his head, pointing.  

“No, he’s right here.”

Steve considered.  “It’s weird telling stories about you when you’re around,” he told the furry bulk at his elbow, glaring.

“Well, sorry,” Hook Possum shot back.  “There aren’t a lot of jobs a possum can get, Harrington.”

“We always said the lights were Hook Possum,” Steve said, shrugging.  “Searching for the one who wronged him.  The reason he can’t move on.  He never sleeps.”

“Euuugh,” said one of the kids, shuddering.  “He does sleep, though!  I’ve seen his bunk.”

“Yeah, we know he’s really a...person,” said a small voice in the dark, shakily.  “In-in a costume.”

“Mostly a person,” said another little voice.

“Yeah, we know you’re mostly a person,” said another one.  “E-except at night.”

“Hang on, now,” Hook Possum hissed, but Steve elbowed him.  

“Hook Possum won’t let anything happen to you,” he told them.

 One evening when the sunset was particularly fine, and Steve was for once off dish duty, Hook Possum was down sitting on the dock, his legs splashing in the lake.  The back of the costume was untied—except for the neck, since it hadn’t fallen off—and through the long slit in the back, Steve could see skin.  In the golden light of sunset, Hook Possum didn’t even look too terrifying, from the back, his plastic fur shining 

Steve pressed down a nearly-overwhelming urge to slide his fingers between the folds of polyester fur and let his fingertips brush over Hook Possum’s shoulder blades.  

“You’re getting all wet,” Steve said, dropping to sit on his hands, and Hook Possum snorted.

“Possums dry,” he said, kicking his feet in the water, and Steve realized, seeing a pale flash, that he didn’t have shoes on, and stared down, his heart thumping at every flash of ankle.

“...hey,” Steve said, like a genius, leaning to thump their shoulders together, and Hook Possum laughed.  Off in the woods, there was another grinding noise, a mechanical roar, and a horrible high-pitched whinny that made Steve’s teeth clench.

“...sounds like somebody needs a new fan belt,” Hook Possum said, leaning against his side, and Steve stretched, yawning, and reached an arm around his shoulders, feeling Hook Possum laugh.  “...what’s over that way?” Hook Possum asked, letting himself slump a little into Steve’s side.

“What?” Steve breathed, thinking about the little line of Hook Possum’s back showing through the back, and how it would feel to slide his thumb in there, up and down, feeling the bumps along Hook Possum’s spine.

Hook Possum laughed.  He sounded a little breathless.  “Uh, I just—what—what’s over there, where the um, where the engine noises?  Are coming from?”

“Oh,” Steve said, blinking.  “Uh, nothing.”  He frowned, thinking about it.  “Nothing’s supposed to be that direction, there’s no road.  It’s prairie, y’know, park lands.”  

“How come I keep hearing shit from over there, then,” Hook Possum mumbled, without lifting his masked head from Steve’s shoulder.

“...dunno,” Steve sighed, giving in to temptation, and sliding his thumb inside the gap at the back of the Hook Possum costume.  Hook Possum shivered, tensing, and Steve just rubbed a slow circle with his thumb until Hook Possum relaxed with a sigh.  They sat, splashing their feet, until Steve sighed.  “...I should probably go check it out, huh.”

“...mmmn,” Hook Possum said.  “...probably.  Since you kinda...own the damn park.”  He pulled away, sitting up straight, and Steve let his arm fall away.  “Keep forgetting your dad owns the damn place,” Hook Possum muttered.

“I mean, it doesn’t really matter,” Steve told him, hoping it didn’t.

“Yeah, like you couldn’t talk to him and get us all fired,” Hook Possum laughed, touching his mask, and Steve grimaced.

“I wouldn’t get you fired,” he groaned.  “Why in the hell would I get you fired?”  

“How the hell should I know,” Hook Possum growled, clambering back up onto the dock.  

 The next day, Steve led friendship bracelet making.  He always did, because he’d been going to camp so long he was really, really good at friendship bracelets.  

“What color you want yours?” he called over to Hook Possum, as a matter of course, and Hook Possum stared at him, smoke swirling from his eyeholes.  “...you’re gonna set yourself on fire,” Steve told him, laying out the embroidery thread.  “Pick out some colors.”

“...you’re making me a friendship bracelet?” Hook Possum asked, warily.

“Well, yeah,” Steve told him, shrugging.  “What colors you want?”

“...uh,” Hook Possum said.  “Possum colors?”

“The hell are those,” Steve asked, snorting a laugh.  “I’m not stomping it in the dirt.”

Hook Possum swung a leg over the bench opposite Steve, and leaned his horrible mask in his hands to pore over the color selection.  “...how many should I pick?” he muttered, his voice deeper than his usual fake squeaky hiss, and Steve bit back a smile.  

“Probably, uh, three to like...five,” he said, shrugging.  He’d started a pink, green, and orange candy-striped one for Pink Overalls, and he pinned it to the knee of his jeans to work on while Hook Possum considered.  

Finally, he reached his plastic-clawed paw and pushed a grayish blue forward towards Steve, and then a darker blue, and then hesitated between the other colors, and pulled back.  

“...white?” Steve suggested.  “It’d still be a blue bracelet, but it’d show up.”

“White,” Hook Possum said, nodding.  “Possum colors,” he announced.

Steve found himself grinning, again, the way he always was lately.  His cheeks were tired and it was only eleven in the morning.  

He got distracted helping the kids with theirs—Pink Overalls wanted to make one for Bell Witch Mirror kid, and so on—so it wasn’t until after dinner, when he snuck back to their cabin with a tray of spaghetti, that he managed to work on it.  He slid the tray onto Hook Possum’s bunk, hitching up the flag curtain so the guy wouldn’t sit on it by accident, and then dropped into his bunk.  He looped the cut embroidery thread around his toe, frowning up intently at the ceiling of his bunk as he wove the strands.  

Hook Possum wandered in shortly after.  “Where’d you go?” he asked, leaning in.  “You okay?”  He stared for a long second, and then asked, “...is that my bracelet?”

“Yep,” Steve told him, his fingers dextrous after the long day of reminding himself of the patterns.  

“...it’s almost dark in here,” Hook Possum said, nearly a whisper, and Steve laughed.  

“I been making these so long I could do it in the dark,” he said.  “You better eat, if you’re gonna go sit around the fire.”

“I think I can miss a night of Hook Possum stories,” Hook Possum said.  “I’m gonna grab a shower first.”

Steve nodded, only half paying attention, because it was getting dark, and he had to keep up the rhythm or turn on the light to find it again.  

When Hook Possum returned, Steve was half done, carefully not looking over as the human who wore the possum suit sat just out of sight, leaning against Steve’s bunk, and ate the spaghetti Steve had brought him.  The dim battery lantern Steve had set behind his bunk lit them both yellowy from the back, so even if he’d looked over, he couldn’t have seen much of Hook Possum’s face.

“How are you even doing that,” Hook Possum asked, and the bunk creaked as he sat next to Steve, warm and damp from the shower, smelling of soap and the pine trail back to the cabin.  His curls—he had curls, Steve thought dazedly—tickled Steve’s shoulder, as he reached up to run his fingers over the dimly-lit, smooth-woven thread in Steve’s fingers.  

“...practice,” Steve said, his throat weirdly tight.

The head against his nodded, and Steve could feel stubble against his cheek.  Hook Possum’s body was heavy against his, his hairy legs a little itchy, and Steve wanted to roll over and explore, slide his fingers all over Hook Possum’s body.

“What do I do with it,” Hook Possum said, and Steve’s fingers paused.  “I just mean, uh,” the guy said quickly, “—there are rules, right?  Like I’m not supposed to...take it off?”

“...what, you’ve never had a friendship bracelet?” Steve asked, laughing, and felt the head against his shake.

“Nah,” he said, dryly.  “Never been to a summer camp before, either.  I was the kinda kid that’d get in trouble.”

“There’s always one every year and you think ‘I’m gonna have to pull that kid out of a toilet or something’,” Steve told him, sighing.  “We figure it out.  Haven’t lost a camper yet.”

“I wear it until it falls off?” Hook Possum asked, his voice rumbling against Steve’s shoulder.  Steve could barely move his right arm, but he didn’t ask Hook Possum to move.

“Yeah.  It’ll just wash with you in the shower,” Steve told him, grinning.  “Some kids take theirs off to make them last longer, though.”

“What about when it does fall off?” Hook Possum breathed in his ear.  “You gonna make me another one?”

Steve felt his face heat, because Hook Possum was being weird and intense about a friendship bracelet, of all things.  “...you saying I make a faulty product?”

“I’m asking if you’ll...work here next year,” Hook Possum muttered, sighing into Steve’s shoulder.  “If it falls off.”

“The hell do you care,” Steve laughed, his stomach twisting.  “You’re moving to Oregon or somewhere.”

“...California,” Hook Possum sighed.

“You saying you’ll give me your address?” Steve asked, nearly forgetting himself and sitting up to look over.  He shut his eyes tightly, his heart pounding.  “So—so I can mail you a friendship bracelet?”  Hook Possum was quiet, his fingers tight on Steve’s wrist.  “...you saying you’d...come back to see me?” Steve ventured, and Hook Possum snorted a laugh, so Steve tried to backtrack.  “Yeah, no, not for a friendship bracelet,” Steve laughed.  It felt forced.  “That’d be pretty dumb.”

Hook Possum’s hand ran slowly up Steve’s arm to his face, and Steve waited, his blood thudding through his veins, his eyes clenched so tight shut he saw lights, feeling Hook Possum’s fingers touch his cheek.  

Hook Possum’s thumb stroked over his jaw, and Steve trembled with the effort of holding still.  He wanted to yank Hook Possum closer, or—or roll on top of him, or something, and the gentle sensation of Hook Possum’s hesitant breath on his lips made him want to scream.

After endless seconds, Hook Possum shoved away, thudding to the floor of the cabin and stomping over to prop the little shuttered window open and lean out.  He gasped for air, taking ragged breaths, and Steve felt just the same, like he’d been running.  

He opened his eyes and stared up at his foot on the roof of the bunk, and the inches of bracelet dangling between his toes.  “You can tell Max when it falls to pieces,” he said, with a weird rasp in his voice.  “If you want another one.  I can—I can get you another one.”

“You’re gonna keep making me friendship bracelets,” Hook Possum said, half a groan, and Steve could just see the dark shapes of him leaning his head into his arms.

“Well, you seemed worried about it,” Steve told him, grinning.  “Don’t want my possum getting lonely.”

“Jesus H. Christ,” Hook Possum muttered.

 Hook Possum actually tried not to smoke too much around the kids, but every night, he’d wander out and have a cigarette on the steps of the cabin when the air inside was hot and close.  Steve awakened vaguely to the sound of his voice talking to one of the kids, and then fell back asleep.  

When the pounding at the door started, he jerked awake with the other counselors, mumbling and smacking their heads on the wooden bunk frames.  The cabin door opened, and Steve recognized the voice of Pink Overalls.  “Hook Possum went off in the woods to see what the lights were,” she sobbed.  “He hasn’t come back.  It’s been four hours!”  

She thrust a glow-in-the-dark watch face into Steve’s face, and he blinked blearily at it.  It was a quarter after five in the morning.  

“Shit,” he muttered, rubbing his face.

“He could be in the lake,” she sobbed.  “With rocks.”

“I’ll go get him,” Steve told her, stumbling out of bed.

“We’ll all go get him,” Robin said, clicking something in the dark, then smacking it.  Her flashlight lit up the cabin.  “Wake up the other counselors, tell them they’re on breakfast duty.”

“Oh-okay,” Pink Overalls sniffled, and slammed out.  

Steve found another flashlight, and he and the other counselors tromped through the grasslands, squinting through the occasional tree cover until Steve was pretty sure they were in the right area.  His foot caught on a low patch of smooth mud and then grass, and he frowned down at what looked like tire tracks.

“Holy fuck,” Robin whispered, grabbing him, and waving her flashlight around.  “Jesus.”  

“Wait,” Steve said, holding his own flashlight still on the plants they’d been tromping through.  “Is—is that—”

“Marijuana,” Robin snickered.  “Somebody’s got a good crop back here.  I need to find some really big trash bags, stat.”

“Hook Possum first,” Steve reminded her, shuddering at the thought that he’d stumbled into drug dealers out here.  The thought of their faces as Hook Possum lurched out of the darkness was hilarious, but they could have hit him with anything, Steve thought, walking along the tire tracks, and then jogging.  They might have had guns, even.

There was a loud crash and yelling ahead, and he ran.  

“He’s in the shed!” yelled one of the other counselors, brandishing her heavy flashlight at an unfamiliar guy in a t-shirt who looked stoned as hell, and Steve ran by, looking for a shed.  His flashlight slid over it, and he stumbled to a stop, trying to remember the place.  An old fire season ranger hut, he thought, yanking on the locked door, and then pressing his face to the glass.  

“Hook Possum!” he yelled, and got back an “I’m fine, jesus.”  Steve threw his shoulder against the door and it gave instantly, dropping him on his hands and knees inside.

“My hero,” Hook Possum said, as Steve scrambled to his feet, swinging the flashlight around until it caught on the furry shape.  His hands and feet were tied, then handcuffed to a rolling office chair.  

Steve yanked at the cuffs, tugging at the ropes around Hook Possum’s ankles, and being generally ineffective, when Robin stormed in.  “There’s a phone,” she panted.  “I’m calling the police.  Get him out of here, they’re trying to fight us, or something.  I had to brain one with my flashlight.”

The sound of a sputtering engine came up the road, and Robin yelled “Fuck, more of them?!” before running to the phone.  

Steve gave up on the cuffs and ropes, and rolled Billy out of the shed and along the muddy tire tracks in the office chair.  They trundled quickly away from the noise, and then the chair nearly overbalanced, and Steve nearly tripped over Hook Possum’s tail and took them both down, so he slowed.  His heart was pounding.  “Are you okay,” he panted.

“I’m fine,” Hook Possum grunted, squirming in the cuffs.

“Lemme get your mask off,” Steve said, stopping.  “Did they hit you?”

“I’m okay!” Hook Possum yelped, nearly overbalancing as he tried to duck away.  “Leave it on!”

“Look, if you need money that much, I can give you some, lemme check your head—” Steve offered, checking the mask for cracks.  “Did they—”

“They threw a goddamn tarp over me and I couldn’t find my way out in this thing,” Hook Possum said bitterly.  “I’m fine.”

“O-okay,” Steve said.  “...okay, okay, okay…”  He took a slow, shuddery breath, squeezing Hook Possum’s shoulders as he pushed him along in the chair.  It rattled across the uneven ground.  “What were you even doing?!  Wandering off alone in that thing?!”

“Had to see who was trespassing on your grounds, lord and master.”

“Fuck you,” Steve hissed.

“This might be the most undignified thing I’ve ever done,” Hook Possum growled.  “Trussed up in a rolling office chair.”  

“It’s handy,” Steve told him, catching the guy’s weight again as the ground tilted the chair.  

“We’re never talking about this again,” Hook Possum said.  “Ever.”

“I’m rescuing you,” Steve told him, grinning, as his heart rate started to slow.  “Like a princess.”

“Shut up,” Hook Possum growled.

“Princess Possum,” Steve sighed happily.  

“So you’re my Prince Charming?” Hook Possum snarled.  “You gonna kiss me and uncurse me, or what?!”

Steve opened his mouth, and then closed it.  “...uh,” he said.

“A real Prince Charming doesn’t just grab random possums,” said Hook Possum, his voice entertainingly uneven from the bouncing of the chair.  “Help!  Help!  I’m being oppressed!”

“Shut up,” Steve laughed, giggly with relief that his...his Hook Possum wasn’t bleeding out from a head wound, or tied to rocks, sinking in the lake.  “Just a little longer.  I’ll get you back safe.”

Pink Overalls threw her arms around Hook Possum when Steve pushed him back into camp, muddier even than usual.  She sobbed about ropes and murder victims, and Steve sawed at the ropes with the bread knife, until they frayed, and cut, and Hook Possum was free to stand—one paw still handcuffed to the office chair.  

When Robin got back, exhausted but elated, and carrying three mysterious trash bags, she got the hatchet.  Steve held the chair across from Hook Possum’s wrist over the wood chopping stump, and Robin smashed the chain between the two cuffs until one came loose, and the chair fell away.  “The police will have to talk to you,” Steve told him, sliding his finger inside the cuff, and along Hook Possum’s human wrist.  “They can take it off.”

“...yeah,” Hook Possum whispered, holding very still.

“I knew he’d save you,” said Pink Overalls, crying with relief. 

PART ONE | TWO | THREE | FOUR

[themonkeycabal]

WandaVision Spoilers

Wherein I watch it and have a few comments, but no super deep thoughts. Obviously there are spoilers. 

I'm excited for some fresh Marvel content. It feels like it's been a hundred years. Damn it, 2020.

The only thing I know about WandaVision are the two trailers, and that's it.

Oh, they gave us two episodes right away. Thanks, Disney! Let's see what happens.

Episode 1:

lol, the theme song. And oh man, a laugh track.

So, very Bewitched meets Dick Van Dyke Show right off the bat.

"My wife and her flying saucers." Har har har.

Good set design. Very period. They raided every prop house in a hundred miles.

Hey so, did Bettany and Olsen study 50s-60s sitcoms and the awkward stilted dialogue and physical staging? (Not a knock on them, it's like, throwing me back to all the shows in syndication that I never wanted to watch when I was home sick from school or something, and yet, it was all the was on until cartoons later. Yes, I'm old enough to remember life before ubiquitous cable/satellite tv. Though, we were also poor and late to jump on the cable train.)

Legit question, do people still play bridge? My grandparents had a bridge set growing up, but honestly I never remember anybody ever playing it. My mom was more likely to play Dealer McDope. Yes, that was a real game. My parents were hippies and ran a head shop when I was very little. My formative influences were a little ... something.

"That embarrassing display of beatnik enthusiasm." "I wore a turtleneck." Okay, that was good and deserved a better punch from the laugh track, guys!

I like “My wife’s European” from the guy with the accent. lol

"You move at the speed of sound, and I can make a pen float through the air. Who needs to abbreviate?" Heh.

Honestly, while I appreciate the dedication to the conventions of 60s sitcoms, most 60s sitcoms were not very good (full disclosure, though, I don't really like sitcoms anyway, so I’m probably biased), and while the sitcom awkward setup was very on brand, it's also awkward in a way I don't like. Embarrassing humor hurts me in my brain and my soul. 12 minutes in and I'm sure somebody needs to get to a point here. 

I don't meant to sound impatient, but, really, this was not a TV era I ever particularly enjoyed. I did not love Lucy. Shocking, I know, but there, I said it. The Honeymooners? More like the Honeysnoozers, amiright? There were some things that survived in syndication for far, far too long. But, I digress …

I like Vision trying to figure out what exactly he does for a living. The bits of confusion are all good, but the hamming it up is not something I mostly care for. I acknowledge this is a matter of personal taste, and is no commentary on the acting, because honestly, they’re managing it pretty much spot on. 

The sing along. This is all so awkward. I know it's meant to be, but man.

Yay a strange turn. A turn of strangeness. Good strangeness. I think maybe if they layered some of that in a little more, Wanda and Vision having these blank spots, and not made me suffer through so much sitcomness, I would have liked this episode a little better. Again, a+ follow through on the tropes, but I didn't want to really watch a 60s sitcom with one minute of weird. Needed More Weird!

Good looking end credits.

Episode 2:

Okay, let's move things along. Please don't make me watch another full episode of sitcom with a smattering of strange.

Oh no, I can't skip the 'previously on' of the episode that I just watched 30 seconds ago. Disney! Fix that!

Oh no times two, an awkward sitcom scene. Though, we've moved up more firmly into the mid-60s. So, progress.

Lol, okay, the animated opening credits are excellent. Really quality. Somebody gif those stat!

Man, do they have a different set every episode? I don't mean the set dec, but actual set layouts. That's not a little thing. It's just a three room setup, but still.

Phew, only had to wait about 5 minutes for some 'odd' this time. A toy helicopter in color. Hey, remember Pleasantville? That was a good movie. I haven't seen that in ages.

"Can I give you a bit of friendly advice?" "Is it about the way I'm dressed?" "Yes, but it's too late for that." Heh. Agnes is a delight.

Dottie — oh hi Emma Caulfield! I haven't seen her in forever.

Man, I just had crazy deja vu, during this awkward neighborhood watch scene, but then I remembered, I did actually see this clip before … somewhere? Wait, did I? Now I'm doubting myself. Somebody tell me they did release a bit of that clip at some point. I don’t think it was in either of the trailers. So weird. 

Oh, no, gum is gumming up Vision's works. Har Har.

Weirdness! The radio is talking to Wanda! "Who's doing this to you, Wanda?" Good weirdness. Creepy weirdness. I like.

Hydra was in the watch business, was it? Well, I guess everybody needs a day job. I mean, Howard Stark made toasters. Are these ads a clue? Hmmm. 

Oh, no, Vision with his gummed up works is going to ruin the talent show that is the biggest fundraiser of the year for the children! Gum apparently makes him drunk?

The talent show is funny. But, it's a little too long. 

"Is that how mirrors work?" lol.

"That really gummed up my works, didn't it?" That joke crashed to earth like 12 minutes ago, my guy.

Oh noes, Wanda is suddenly and mysteriously pregnant. Followed by strange banging and and a creepy beekeeper crawling out of the sewers. As happens in the suburbs so often. No, though, it's good creepy. Then she rewinds to a more pleasant moment. And we go to color.

Okay, are we going outside the tv world? Oh, alas, we’re not. How are we at end credits with 7 mins left? Geez, come on. So short, these episodes.

So, is Wanda imagining a tv world where Vision is alive? Or trapped by some outside forces trying to keep her docile in a perfect sitcom world where Vision is alive? Did Sokovia also suffer through cheaply acquired runs of American sitcoms in syndication during Wanda's childhood? Is the mind stone somehow messing with them both? So many questions. Very little to go on at this point, but so far this feels more heavily Wanda’s POV than Vision’s.

Anyway, I mostly liked it, but I also feel like it was slow to get to a point. This is a 9 episode series, and they burned two with drips and drops of maybe something weird is happening. I mean, we know something weird is happening, but 80% of this was a lot of sitcom filler. I get we needed set up, but these episodes needed to move things along a bit tightly. I guess we'll see how this plays out, but so far I'm a little let down. Not much happened. And the episodes are short, so I don't feel super engaged yet.

I guess my thing is, that while I get wanting to play in the tropes, I also think they’re too attached to trying to really faithfully recreate them, and as a result, so far, they’re not really telling their own story within them. But, it is only the first two episodes so far. We’ve got time and I don’t mean to be harsh.