#anyway WICKED ONES i mean one is more nasty than the other about it but… | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

darthwheezely · 4 years ago

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i walk the line - f.w. - 1

1950s american carnival! au

Summary: The Weasley Bros. Circus has always been a family affair...until they pick up a highly unusual girl with wicked talents...

Warnings: 1950s America and all the shit that comes with it, NSFW/SMUT MINORS NO INTERACTING :) , alcohol usage, cussing, tw violence (fights), carny folk, contortionist, language and desc of intense circus acts, clowns, sad boy George, GRAPHIC DEPICTIONS OF BULLYING IN THIS CHAPTER, angst

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“...welcome to our home!”

George listened as the crowd erupted before his father. He had always admired Arthur “Art” Weasley, for many a reason. The way he could walk in and command a room, the way he could silence an entire audience with a simple flick of his wrist of wave of his hand, the way his voice alone could stop his cries in the night, the way he would come up behind him when taking care of the animals was too much and say, “Georgie, go to sleep, son.” but most of all? The way his father noticed him.

Baltimore, Maryland. 1933.

George Weasley was on the run. Again. Charlie Dooley, a boy from his class, and his gang of (as Fred said) “chickenshit babies” had made it a habit of following George home from school and doing one of the following: a) chasing him on bikes, b) cornering him in the bathroom, or c) sprinting after him on foot.

Today, it had been on foot.

“C’mon monkey boy!” Charlie howled, the other boys closing in on him. George sprinted a quick right realizing he dropped his lunch box and thinking a violent but rapid mom’s gonna be so mad, oh no oh no-

George barreled down the street, his house in sight, tears stealing on his cheeks from the sheer speed and necessity to get home. His feet seemed to be operating without him knowing, his body throwing itself backwards and forwards with the blinding need to be home, to hug his dad and say he wasn’t going to school anymore, to ask his mom to stop packing bananas in his lunchbox even though it was his favorite snack because mom don’t you know they call me monkey boy-

“Thought you could really get away from us this time huh, Georgie boy?” Charlie had pinned him to the concrete, George’s heart screaming in his ears. He could barely register that his lip was bleeding, and that maybe if he focused on the sky, his eleven year old shrimp of a body wouldn’t feel-

Pow.

Isn’t that what superheroes say? Pow? Let’s think about superheroes, Georgie, Charlie doesn’t last long with punches anyway just keep lookin’ at the sky, he thought wildly before-

Pow.

He vaguely felt his eyes roll back into his head, but he made a very clear rule to himself that he wouldn’t cry, Fred wouldn’t want him to cry, not that Fred was mean, Fred just hates seeing him cry-

Pow.

P-

And suddenly there was something off his body. He could hear punching noises but they were not aimed at George, but rather someone else. When he was able to open his eyes he saw his brother, Fred, landing blow after blow to Charlie Dooley, Charlie mewling under Fred.

“Touch my brother again, and I promise I won’t just break your nose next time, yeah?”

Art Weasley sat with his son George in the red chair in his caravan. It was George’s favorite chair, as he learned the word “red” from that chair and then equated “red” to his own hair.

Arthur had known his son would have it harder. It wasn’t his fault the boy was different, he loved him just the same for it if not slightly more so for the way he was a bit quieter, the way he listened and thought and thought and then wanted to make choices. The way he asked his mom if he could pack Fred’s lunches for school because only George knew Fred hated crunchy peanut butter sandwiches with white bread.

But more so for the way George wasn’t afraid to show love. To cry. To feel things Art sometimes couldn’t articulate.

George was curled into his father, tears staining his button up shirt and his body shuddering with every anxiety laden breath. Art put a hand on his son’s back and put his lips to his hair.

“George, you have to breathe for me or you’re gonna get sick.” He rubbed his son’s back soothingly.

“I’m sorry, dad, I promised I did what you said and tried to protect myself and when I couldn’t do anything else I just didn’t look at h-him I p-promise, dad p-please don’t be mad at me...” he took another shudder and released a cry into his father’s shoulder. Art was not a helpless man, but there was something that destroyed and cracked his very soul at the sight of his most vulnerable child, the most angelic of his seven children. The one that everyone protected. And at times like these, sometimes all a father can do is hold his child. So that’s what he did.

“I know, son...I know...”

“George?”

George jumped out of his thoughts, his palms sweaty from the inevitable stage fright that always accompanied him before a show. It was no matter how many times he grazed the trapeze with his sister Gin and his brother Ron, the nerves were always the same.

At least this time, no pows would be administered from anyone besides himself.

He heard his name again, the daze breaking as he looked at his oldest brother Bill.

“George. You’ll be fine. You always are, baby brother.” He said softly, placing his hands back on, Cora (short for Corazon) the lion. George gulped and nodded, and Fred patted his back, giving a hearty wink. George smiled a small smile, clapping Fred’s forearm.

“Ready, Fred?”

Fred grinned.

“Ready, George.”

George belonged to the trapeze. The way his body seemed to elongate with grace and dexterity when he grabbed his sister, the way he gave flirty winks at the girls in the crowd, the way he never dropped a muscle unplaced-

The way their father always noticed.

Fred saw these things in his younger brother and couldn’t help the fit of jealousy in his stomach. Don’t get your tightrope in a twist, he was possibly the most proud of his brother, and his hand to God if he didn’t say he hooted his name the loudest watching him do his thing.

But he never felt like he could ever match that.

He knew his hands were meant for something greater, same as his mind. Juggling came almost as easy to the older twin as breathing, smoking cigarettes, witty banter, and sex (in no particular order). But George had something Fred didn’t have.

Approval.

Fred was, for all intents and purposes, a good person. A great person. But his habits could’ve said so much otherwise.

Fred had a nasty habit of letting his temper get the best of him. Ever since he could talk, he had taken on the role of protector to not only George, but to Ginny and Ron as well. Frequently, his hands always seemed to have more things to say than he could which says a massive fucking lot. At the ripe age of 20, he’d gotten into more bar fights and straight up blacked out sober more than his own father, and all of his other siblings. He’d been in and out of detention when he did go to school, and in and out of-

Well, you get it.

The one thing that always seemed to follow him? His charm.

Fred Weasley was a charismatic motherfucker.

And he knew it.

It was simple. All he had to do in between acts was make a couple jokes, a few magic tricks, and by the end of his little charade? He’d have at least 3 girls lined up for that night. And if he was in a particularly bad mood?

Well, it could get a little more than that.

On nights like this, he was fine with just two.

I mean...Fred knew what he was doing.

And on a night like this - he was damn proud of it.

Until he saw you...

Last night.

Fred’s dessert was named Candy. He honestly couldn’t remember what her actual name was, but he did remember she said:

“Call me Candy. I taste like it, too.”

And honestly? That was really all he needed.

It didn’t take him long to press her small body against his caravan. She wound her arms around his neck and fisted into his flame colored hair and yanked, his hips rolling as he moaned into her lipstick stained mouth.

Fred always did have a thing for gals in red.

Fred realized his pants had begun to be a tad too tight, as Candy’s tongue licked into his mouth. his hands found their way under her dress, fingers kneading at her thighs and she squeaked. He lifted her legs at her noise and he wrapped them around his body, his bulge pressing into where she needed him the most.

“Fred, please” she whined, his mouth attaching to the valley of her breasts, the exposed skin of her dress warm and inviting.

“Please what, doll?” He teased roughly, his free hand sliding to cup her ass and squeezing. She gasped at his rough touch and he bit her collarbone.

“Fred, please, fuck me” she said airily. He smirked before pressing a quick kiss to her mouth.

“Absolutely, baby, see how easy that was?” He licked her bottom lip and bit, before pressing his forehead to hers, the sheer strength of his body pressing her against the van enough to use his hands to pull her panties down enough for her to kick them away. She reached down to unzip his pants when he motioned for her to do so, his hard cock free of his boxers.

“You ready, pretty girl?” He growled against her earlobe. Candy whispered a breathy “please” and Fred slid into her cunt, her wetness echoing sinful noises at the contact. They groaned at connection, and Fred continued to go deeper into her until he bottomed out. He looked at her for confirmation to keep going and she nodded. He pulled out and slammed back into her, beginning to set a rough pace against the van.

“Freddie, fuckfuckfuck you feel s-so good” she sputtered, Candy’s back hitting and arching against the van, causing it to move slightly against her. Fred nipped and sucked at her neck, determined to always leave a map of where he left his treasure behind...

“Look at you, unraveling like a ball of twine. Never had cock this good, doll?” He reached a particularly good angle in her causing her to claw deeper at his back, biting in a scream.

“Thereeee it is, baby. You like that don’t you, c’mon be a good little cock slut and tell me what you want, want everyone in this whole fucking camp to know I’m fucking you so good.” His hand went to her clit, circling it harshly. He wanted her to finish, his dick was twitching all to hard in her and he needed her to release before it was his turn. Her moans and gasps and mini clawings were getting sloppier, losing their tempo.

“Fred-Fred-“

“Yeah, baby, I’ve got you” he groaned against her mouth at her clenching pussy. She gave a final sputter and screamed into his shoulder, a hot electric wave coursing over his cock, with one, two, three harder pumps, he released into her as well. He leaned his forehead against hers and kissed it lightly. But when he looked back at her face, she was already losing interest. Just like the others. But it didn’t bother him...at least not anymore, right?

Just another night.

Memories of Candy and Janie and Jessica and Portia and all the other girls seemed to wash away at the sight of you waiting after the show. Your eyes were full of life but somehow had something tired behind them. The way your hair wasn’t perfectly coiffed but still looked like you had tried to, the way your dress was crinkled at the bottom like you didn’t give a shit if it was crumpled in the bottom of your dresser.

And then you looked at him.

Fred Weasley could have sworn time stopped at the way you walked across the hay to him, your body positioned in a way that would’ve given him every reason to hold you. he realized his face began to flush at the sight of you getting closer.

That, he thought, was an alien feeling.

“Hi.” You said warmly to him.

“You’re Fred, right? I loved your act.”

He blinked twice and then returned your smile.

“Yeah. Thank you so much, I...I really try, I am so sorry but what is your name?” His eyes scanned your face. You stuck your tongue in your cheek and returned the search on his face.

“Y/N. Y/L/N. I’m looking for a job.”

#fred weasley #george weasley #Fred weasley smut #Fred weasley x reader #bill weasley #charlie weasley #Ron weasley #Harry Potter #Ginny weasley #arthur weasley #molly weasley

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lumosinlove · 4 years ago

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Relic Keel

(warnings in tags)

PREVIOUSLY ON RELIC KEEL

Marlene got into college and hasn’t told Dorcas because she’s scared of how she will react.

Lily and James had sex and obviously like each other, but Lily is scared to have attachments on Hogwarts when they’re going to college soon.

Leo and Logan question each other about their pasts without much progress. Logan finds out that Leo hopes to own The Lion restaurant one day, and that his father’s death has something to do with “The Voldemort.”

Saint and Sirius talk about leaving the island and how they met when they were eleven years old. They have sex and avoid more difficult topics.

James and Lily meet at the Gryffindor Club as promised. Lily tells James that she doesn’t want anything tying her to the island, that she hates the fake boundaries that Hogwarts has and that James isn’t crossing them as much as he thinks he is. James understands, even though it hurts.

Saint and Sirius are cleaning the Potter’s pool when James arrives with Remus and Luke. Remus and Sirius have a tense moment in the kitchen, Luke and Saint argue, and Sirius finds out that it’s Remus who sails the Wolfsbane every morning—Remus thus finding out that Sirius notices.

Logan returns to the Carrows to hand over his money and stock up on Crucio. We find out that he works for them in the hopes that they will help him get Finn out of Saint Clair, only the Carrows are angry with him for using their Crucio—they say that Logan owes them now.

Logan heads over to Saint Clair to watch Finn from afar, and swears again that he will rescue him.

part iv

Remus closed his eyes, soaking in the morning sun and the salty air. The wind pushed his hair back as he tightened the rigging, catching the wind. Sometimes his sails felt like his bare hands. Like he finally had something to hold onto, even if it blistered his palms. The sea made him feel alone, in the best way. Usually, it felt like people were always around. He couldn’t go anywhere without running into at least two people from school, or his parents’ friends. Yes, he’s excited for college, no, he’s not sure exactly yet, yes, he’s still sailing, yes, he’s still obsessed, yes, he remembers learning at Gryffindor Club, sure, I’ll tell my mom you say hi.

Solidarity was less exhausting.

The wind buffered and he sighed as he slowed down. he looked back towards Shack Beach. Saint had said they saw him every morning—that Sirius saw him every morning. He wondered if Sirius was watching now.

He couldn’t see anything from this far away. Part of him wondered if he could make this island disappear completely, just for a moment. But it was dangerous to stray that far. Even The Cradle, the small U of islands just off of Hogwarts’ southern coast, was pushing it. Remus huffed out a laugh as he managed the ropes to come about, back towards shore. If that wasn’t a metaphor, he didn’t know what was.

Things on Hogwarts had become complicated in what felt like overnight, even though Remus knew that wasn’t true. They were older now. They didn’t just care about summer vacation. There was college to think about, and then jobs. Hogwarts wasn’t the dream it once was. Remus wanted to see mountains, and huge cities, or snow—and not just for a week on vacation. He wanted to belong somewhere because he wanted to be there, and not just because he had grown up there. He was tired of knowing everything there was to know.

He tied up his Wolfsbane on autopilot, stroking his hand over the side before tugging his shirt over his head and jumping straight into the water. It was cooler from the night, but it was what Remus needed. He held his breath as he found the sandy bottom, his eyes closed. For a moment, he didn’t have to be anywhere. He got to enjoy the ocean and its predictable changes.

When he came up for air, he remembered why he loved this island. That still didn’t mean he didn’t want to leave.

“Are you headed to the museum, sweetheart?” his mother said when Remus came down to the kitchen, freshly showered. He preferred to let the salt linger all day, but he figured he should be fresh for his first day of work.

“Yeah,” Remus held up his keys. “Just looking for some coffee first.”

His mom held up a mug for him, laughing. “Ask and you shall receive.”

Remus smiled. “Thanks, mom.”

“How was it this morning?”

Remus poured some milk into his cup. “It was good. Sun’s going to be strong today. Went near The Cradle—not too far, don’t worry.”

“You know me too well,” Hope laughed, whisking some eggs into a lather. “Well, it’s pizza night. We’re ordering in so, if you want to have some friends over and take it to the den, that’s fine with me. But don’t complain if Jules crashes the party.”

Remus nodded. “Actually, I think we’re going out. If that’s all right?”

Hope nodded. “All right, sure. Be safe, though. Who, uh…”

“James and Luke,” Remus sighed. “Mom—”

“I wasn’t going to say anything—”

“It’s not Luke’s fault,” Remus continued anyway. “His dad, I mean. He didn’t know.”

“I know that,” Hope sighed. “But…Even I can see that boy’s hurting and I barely see him at all.”

“Then shouldn’t he be with his friends?” Remus said.

Hope raised her eyebrows at him, and Remus raised his own right back.

“All right, all right,” Hope said. “You’re gonna be late, I’ll see you later, baby.”

Remus knew he should take the car his parents had given him. He knew he should get used to driving, knew his dad wondered why it just sat in the garage. But here, on the island, Remus liked his bicycle. He liked the warm breeze. It reminded him of being out on the water.

Which, in turn, now reminded him of Sirius Black.

When Remus remembered Sirius, he mostly remembered bruised cheeks and nasty looking cuts. He remembered the hushed way people used to whisper about him, and how, even when he was loud, grinning and well-liked, he was still from Salazar. Sometimes he had eaten lunch surrounded by people, and sometimes he had eaten it alone with his brother.

Remus didn’t understand this island. Was Sirius really so different because he was born a few miles South rather than North? It made no sense—only it did, but only because it was all Remus had ever known.

The Hogwarts History Museum was a pride of the island. Remus knew it well from school trips, and from his own interest. He’d spent many Saturdays there as a kid, gazing at all of the small models of ships and dreaming about what it would be like to sail them, wishing they weren’t trapped behind glass—feeling a little like he was trapped behind glass. A ship in a bottle.

“Hi there, Remus,” Layla smiled at him, green eyes kind and skin a rich, dark brown against the pale pink scarf in her hair.

“Hi, Layla,” Remus smiled. “Having a good summer so far?”

“Sure,” Layla shrugged. “Lots of time here. I saw you win the sailing race last Sunday, congrats.”

Remus smiled. “Thanks. It was real fun. Sorry I beat your brother, though.”

“Oh, Lyle doesn’t mind,” Layla waved a hand. Her nails were painted pink, too. “Don’t worry about it.”

Remus had been friends with Layla since they were little, competing for best in class usually. She was wicked smart and mellow. Remus could always use some mellow, good conversation—especially with James being James and Luke being…well, whatever Luke was now. Layla liked history, and her family owned the museum, which meant Layla told tales that were, albeit tall, fun to listen to.

Remus leaned against the desk, looking around. “This place never changes, huh?”

Layla laughed, clicking a pen. “History doesn’t tend to change that much, R, and so neither do we. Unlike the world out there.”

“I don’t know about that. Nothing ever feels too different out there,” Remus laughed, too. “But I guess you’re right. I’m glad you’re here, though. Or else I’d be sitting behind this desk by myself.”

“I’m glad you’re here, too,” Layla nodded. “What made you take the job?”

Remus snorted as he rounded the corner, picking up his name badge where Beatrice, Layla’s mother and the museum curator, said it would be. “Don’t pretend we didn’t see each other here when we were little all the time. Not to mention at Gryffindor Club. You, obviously.”

Layla raised an eyebrow. “Me and your mom.”

Remus winced and Layla laughed.

“C’mon, we both know you’d be out on your boat all day if it was up to you.”

Remus laughed. “Fine. But seriously. You’re a perk.”

Layla nodded, rolling her eyes with a smile. “Just a couple of history buffs, I guess.”

Remus shrugged. “There are worse things to be.”

The day was pretty slow. A few tourists here and there, taking photo behind the cardboard cutouts that made you look like you were dressed as a sailor, or a pirate.

“Are there really pirates here?” one little girl had asked Layla.

Remus had smiled when Layla crouched down and whispered to her, “careful, there’s one there,” and pointed at Remus.

When lunch rolled around, Remus expected Layla to pull out a bagged sandwich like him, but instead she scoffed and picked up her bag.

“Come on. We have to get out for a bit.”

Remus shrugged. “All right, where to?”

“The Lion, of course,” Layla replied. “It’s the best food on the island.”

“The Lion,” Remus repeated slowly. “You mean—in The Hollow?”

Layla gave him a look. “Oh, you’re not one of those are you?”

“One of what?” Remus said. “No. I’m not, I just… c’mon, you hear things.”

“Hear things? You’ve never been?”

“Once,” Remus swallowed, thinking of the fight. “It didn’t really go well.”

Layla just shook her head.

“History is just one great field of stories, Remus. You’ll never get to the truth unless you listen to them all.”

And so Remus found himself riding alongside Layla on their bikes and right through Gryffindor. The Hollow didn’t have a sign or anything, but you knew when you were in it. Remus almost wished he had been able to see some sort of line to cross, but everything was just suddenly different. Low houses with open doors, people gathered together and laughing. Kids running with surfboards over their heads, towards Shack Beach. It had seemed even more vibrant in the dark the night of the party, even through the tinted windows of Luke’s car. String lights hung over cookouts, and music blasting from speakers. It had smelled amazing, and Remus would have to say Layla was probably right about the food.

The Lion was just as bright as everything else. It was bustling with lunch-goers, and the doors were flung wide, letting the heat right in. Remus looked around at the people. Some tourists, obviously. Some not. Hollows. Some of them smiled when they caught Remus’ eye, and some narrowed their eyes.

“Hi, Leo, babe,” Layla said as she slid onto a stool at the counter.

There was a blond boy behind it wearing a tank top and a snapback. He smiled as he set some shrimp down in a frier. “Hey, Layla, babe, ça va?”

“Just working. At least I’ve got Remus for company now.”

Remus smiled awkwardly when Leo fixed his blue eyes on him. He really didn’t know what he was waiting for. Something terrible to happen?

Leo only held out a hand. “Leo, nice to meet you.”

“Remus,” Remus said, and took it. He tried not to look at the rainbow bracelet on Leo’s wrist for too long, but he could tell Leo had felt the way his hand tightened. “Yeah—you, too.”

Leo touched it briefly, like an old habit, as he pulled away, giving another smile to Remus.

It didn’t necessarily mean Leo wasn’t straight, but on such a small island, Remus tended to notice these things. He and Luke had figured each other out pretty fast around sixteen. They’d kissed. Once. And then winced, laughed, and shoved each other in the pool. Sometimes Remus wished he and Luke had worked. He didn’t see any other boys coming his way. Leo was smiling at him like he knew what Remus was thinking.

“What can I get you two?” Leo asked.

A boyfriend? Remus thought wistfully.

“Two of your specials, please,” Layla said. “Re, you’re going to lose your mind it’s so good.”

“What’s your special?” Remus asked.

Leo shrugged, but he was grinning. “Like a chef ever gives up his secrets—”

Leo had stopped mid-sentence, eyes going over their shoulders towards the door. Remus turned to look, and a moment later, a brown haired boy was slinging a backpack down carefully between his feet and taking the seat beside Remus.

“Well, look who’s back,” Leo said to him.

The boy glanced at Remus and Layla, then gave a small shrug. “Yeah.”

Leo snorted. “Yeah,” he parroted. “You’re just hungry.”

The boy shrugged again.

Leo sighed, and gave Remus a look that said, can you believe this? before turning back to the stove. “This is Logan guys. Apparently he doesn’t talk today. Three specials. Coming up.”

Logan didn’t recognize the boy sitting at the counter. He didn’t recognize the girl either. Then again, he didn’t recognize many people. He didn’t know anyone. Except Dorcas—if that even counted. And Leo. If that counted, either.

The Felix was heavy in his pack, wedged protectively between his feet, and he wished the strangers would leave so that Leo would talk to him. He hadn’t said two words that weren’t him making sure that Logan liked his food, and asking him where he’d been.

Logan was a little annoyed with him for asking that question. It wasn’t like Leo didn’t know what Logan did. Then again, Leo didn’t know why Logan did what he did.

“You guys get the new madness exhibit up yet, Layla?” Leo was asking the girl with the scarf in her hair. “The one you were telling me about.”

The sandy-haired boy looked up from his food. “The madness exhibit?”

The girl—Layla—cocked her head. “Remus, you…you don’t know?”

“Know what?” the boy—Remus—replied.

Layla sat up a little, looking suddenly awkward. “Your mom donated almost everything we have. I mean…it is your family that’s famous for…”

Remus raised his eyebrows. “Losing their fucking minds?”

Layla winced. “Well, yeah, okay, poor choice of words on my part. But madness isn’t always a bad thing, you know. People say people are crazy all the time. Sometimes they’re just extraordinary.”

Remus looked back down at his food. “My family’s not extraordinary, believe me.”

“Usually extraordinary-ness belongs to one person, I’d say,” Leo said. “My mom’s pretty extraordinary. Doesn’t mean I am.”

“You want to stay on this island, don’t you?” Logan found himself saying. Then, he felt his neck heat and he turned down to his food.

“What’s so extraordinary about that?” Layla replied at the same time as Remus said, “You do?”

Leo just laughed, rolling his eyes at Logan. “I’m with Layla on this one, guys, sorry.”

“What about you, Logan?” Layla asked. “I want the museum after I go to college. At least I think I do. Leo wants The Lion, Remus wants to sail the world…” Remus blushed at that, and Layla’s eyes were very green. “What do you want to do?”

Logan found it strange that they were treating him like that. So normally. Logan knew his necklace was on display. It was easier than explaining why people hadn’t seen him around and pretending to be a tourist. That lead to questions. Being abandoned didn’t. And he was. He was abandoned. People didn’t ask. Most probably thought he had just aged out. People didn’t ask. It was better that way. Logan didn’t have any answers. All he had was the memory of that last night with Finn. Finn had returned to their room, eyes wild and voice urgent.

Come on, Lo, wake up. Wake up, Logan, we have to go. Now.

Logan had felt helplessly awake in the first weeks of being out. He was still sorting through what that meant.

Logan swallowed. “I don’t know. I’m—looking for someone first.”

Remus sighed and mumbled. “Aren’t we all.”

“You are?” Leo asked softly.

Logan nodded. “Or, not looking. I’m just…I’m waiting for someone.”

He knew where Finn was, but Logan knew that he could wait forever and he wouldn’t come. Logan had to take what he wanted. It was a lesson he was learning fast.

“Oh,” Remus replied. “Um…cool. I hope you find them.”

Logan just nodded.

“Well, we should head out,” Layla said, rising. “Gotta get back to work.”

“Sure thing, just pay up front,” Leo smiled. “See you later, Layla.” He nodded at Remus. “Nice to meet you.”

“You, too,” Remus smiled back. “The food was great.”

Logan watched Leo watch them leave, then snort. “That guy looked more spooked than a horse with a snake.”

“Isn’t that what Gods are supposed to look like?” Logan replied.

Leo shrugged. “Usually you can’t see their eyes behind their aviators.”

Logan laughed a little. “Right.” he looked back down at his food, realizing he had begun picking his fries apart, rather than eating them.

“I’m looking for someone too, you know,” Leo broke the silence.

Logan did. Only, he hadn’t thought about it like that. Leo’s dad and Finn. Leo’s dad was probably dead. Finn wasn’t.

“I hope you find him,” Logan replied. “Your dad.”

The Lion was in full swing now, the lunchtime rush loud and boisterous. Leo had a tank top on, and Logan thought he looked a little tired. Sleeplessness showed easily on his skin.

“Do you have to run?” Leo asked instead of responding. “And hide? Like, from the police?”

Logan sat up, instinctively looking behind him. “I assumed I would have to. But…it hasn’t been that difficult.” He laughed a humorless laugh. “I guess I keep overestimating how much people actually care about me. Maybe I should have learned something by now.”

“Maybe you’re just looking at the wrong people,” Leo said quickly, and looked up with a smile, a small one, then down again. “I know a few others who got out. They don’t seem to have trouble, so, you know, if you needed a job or something, you could work in my mom’s workshop. With me. Or here. I’m sure Celeste and Pascal would be all right with it.”

Logan felt taken off guard. “Oh. I…” he thought of the powder packets in his bag. Of the Carrows. How much do you think you owe us by now?

Others? he wanted to ask. What others?

“Just think about it,” Leo said, and turned towards one of the stove tops to check on some boiling water.

“Yeah. Okay.”

They sat in silence for a long moment.

“It’s a boat,” Leo began suddenly, answering Logan’s yet unasked question. The Voldemort. What his father had been looking for. It was almost like Leo was thanking him for telling the truth about his situation. An eye for an eye. A truth for a truth. Logan sort of liked that consistency. “Was a boat. In the eighteenth century.”

“Oh,” Logan said.

“Biggest story on Hogwarts,” Leo said. “Ten thousand pieces of gold, all fallen to the depths of the ocean just off of Hogwarts’ shores…and never seen again.”

“But if it’s just off the shore…”

Leo smiled a little, shaking his head. “But you have to know where off the shore. Otherwise, you have a whole circumference of miles and miles of open water to work with.”

“And your dad figured it out?”

Leo shrugged, expression closing off a little. “He thought he did.” He cleared his throat as he put an order on the counter for a waiter to take away, and ripped another piece of paper down from the line up to look at. “The Cradle. You know it?”

Logan shook his head.

“It’s a sort of…horse shoe shaped cluster of islands, just off of our southern tip.”

“Salazar,” Logan said quietly.

Leo nodded. “Salazar.”

“Your dad was a treasure hunter,” Logan said slowly. “He was looking for a treasure.”

“Yeah,” Leo said, flipping a crab cake in sizzling oil. “He was.”

“And did he find it? Do you want to find it?”

“I don’t know,” Leo whispered, busy hands stilling. “He never came home.”

Logan nodded.

“He wanted to find it,” Leo said softly. “Really badly. And I… I feel like I should.”

“And was he close?”

Leo glanced up from his knife. “Yes.”

“Leonardo,” a voice came suddenly, entering the restaurant. “What does your mother feed you, you gorgeous specimen?”

Logan froze. He knew that voice.

Leo rolled his eyes, and looked at the newcomers. “Fuck off, Saint. Hey, Sirius.”

“Hi,” a second voice came, and it was closer, almost beside Logan at the bar.

Leo’s eyes caught on Logan’s again, probably meaning to introduce him, but he stopped instead.

“What’s wrong?” Leo asked.

But Logan just shook his head, and then the newcomers—Saint and Sirius—were leaning against the bar. Logan felt the breath beside him catch just as his own had, and he turned to look.

Logan thought the boy standing beside him looked different. Older. More muscular. Squarer jaw. But the same. Same eyes. Same shock of blond hair. Same warm, brown skin.

“Logan?” Saint breathed, his eyes disbelieving.

Logan went to open his mouth, when Saint’s arms were around him suddenly.

“It’s Saint,” he said softly, just for Logan’s ears. He squeezed him tighter. “God, you’re here.”

“Saint?” Logan whispered into his shoulder. No one had touched him like this in what felt like forever.

“Yeah,” Saint said. He pulled back and raised an eyebrow. “Okay?”

Logan shrugged. “I…yeah, okay.”

“Knutty,” Saint’s serious expression morphed into a grin. He leaned against the counter, keeping his palm on Logan. “Handsome as ever.”

Logan blinked at Saint, then at Leo. “Knutty?”

Leo rolled his eyes. “Don’t listen to a word he says.”

“Oh, Logan already knows not to do that,” Saint laughed. He tapped his cross necklace. “We’re practically brothers.”

“Oh,” Leo blinked. “Right.”

The other boy—Sirius—looked just as taken aback.

“Oh, sweetheart,” Saint called in a sing-song voice, looking at Sirius. “Order for us, won’t you? And get us a table? Logan,” Saint nodded towards the door. “Come hither.”

Logan was so thankful to see Saint, he nearly tripped while getting up. A familiar face. A familiar anything. Saint had gotten out almost seven years ago. He’d been there one day, in his bed, in classes, in the courtyard, and gone the next.

“Sweetheart?” Logan asked, glancing back inside at the dark-haired boy, Sirius.

Saint just put his hands on Logan’s arms, eyes more intent than Logan had ever seen them, then on Logan’s cheeks. “Holy shit, how did you get out?”

Logan felt his heart slow, then speed up. He swallowed dryly. “Finn. How did you?”

Saint ignored the question.

“Finn,” Saint repeated, nodding. “Of course. When?”

“About a month ago. And he—he’s still in there,” Logan said. “He’s…And I’m—”

“I hear you,” Saint said. He jerked his head over to the table. “Not now. Let’s get back.”

“Saint?” Logan asked again.

Saint rolled his eyes. “Leave it alone. For now.”

Saint hadn’t been ready. He hadn’t seen Logan in nine years, but he’d know his face anywhere. All eyelashes and sad, green eyes. A smile he wore with Finn only. He looked spooked now, and tired. They’d sat at the bar, watching one of Leo’s shifts go and another one come, then moved to a table. Watching it get dark outside now, Saint wondered where Logan had been living for a month.

He eyed the backpack that Logan held so protectively close, and thought of the way Dorcas did the same thing.

Saint had a bad feeling.

“So, how’d you two meet?” Sirius said, gesturing between Logan and Leo with a fry when Leo brought over more water.

“Party,” Leo shrugged after a moment of hesitation. “Shack Beach.” He jerked his head at Saint. “You two were there, judging by Sirius’ shiner. Could hear that fight at my house, probably.”

Sirius rolled his eyes. “I didn’t start it.”

“True,” Saint said, wondering how he had missed Logan that night. “Some God—albeit a beautiful one—thought we were selling Crucio.”

Saint flicked his eyes over to Logan. Sure enough, he blushed.

Saint cocked his head. “The horror. Dangerous stuff.”

Leo looked at Saint quietly, and glanced at Logan, then back to him. Saint nodded. Got it, it said.

“Well, would you look who it is,” said a deep voice from behind them, and then there were two strong arms around Saint and Sirius. Pascal placed a loud kiss on each of their heads.

“Eck,” Sirius laughed. “You smell like grease, old man.”

Pascal Dumais laughed. “Grease that feeds you, maybe. And who’s this?”

“Dumo, meet Logan,” Saint said. “Logan, meet Pascal. He owns the Lion with his wife, Celeste.”

“The most beautiful woman in the world,” Pascal said, accent heavy. “Logan, it’s nice to meet you.”

Saint watched Pascal eye Logan’s necklace.

“We were together at Saint Clair,” he supplied.

“Maybe not so loud,” Logan said harshly. “Saint.”

“Oh?” Pascal said, and squinted at Logan. “Who are you with now, mon cher?”

Saint watched Logan open his mouth, frozen, and was about to speak up when—

“Me,” Leo cut in. He looked down at the carrots he was chopping as he said it. “Me and my mom.”

Oh, Saint thought.

“Oh, Leonardo,” Saint sighed. “Un ange.”

“Not my name,” Leo said.

“I know.”

“Yeah,” Logan replied to Pascal’s still questioning gaze. “Yeah.”

“I see,” Pascal nodded. “Well, I’m happy you and your mother will have a helping hand now. I miss your father dearly, mon fils.” He smiled sadly at Leo.

Leo just nodded. “Yeah.”

“Him and his treasure, eh?” Pascal said. “A wonderful man. I miss going out on that boat of his.”

Leo’s smile was small, but fond. “Those were some of his favorite mornings.”

“Treasure?” Sirius asked.

“Black!” a new voice shouted. “Thank fuck.”

Saint looked up when Sirius did. James and Remus were barreling towards them from the dark outside.

“Good lord,” Saint said. “Rain, from Olympus. Water my crops, why don’t you.”

“James?” Sirius said. “What are you—”

James and Remus walked right up to their table—Remus looking slightly more reluctant. “We have a question.”

“How did you know we were here?” Sirius raised an eyebrow. “I mean, just…it’s a little out of your way, non?”

“Remus came here earlier, and when I told him—well, you’ll see—he said maybe you’d be here.”

Saint watched Sirius’ eyes narrow at Remus, confused. “Okay…”

“Well, it’s good to see you again, tweedle-hot,” Saint said to Remus. “Up close this time. We actually though you were going to sail right out of sight this morning.”

Sirius stepped on his toe beneath the table.

“Excuse me?” Remus choked out. “What the fuck did you—”

James blinked at Saint, then shook his head, as if to right his thoughts. “All right, setting every strange thing that comes out of your mouth aside for a moment —where is Dorcas?”

“Meadowes?” Logan chimed in.

James’ eyes turned on him. “You know her?”

Saint raised his hand. “I have the same question.”

“Well,” Logan hesitated. “Sure.”

“And she sells Felix,” James said, as if trying to confirm the information.

Logan narrowed his eyes. “Says you.”

James sighed. “I’m not here to turn her in, Jesus, I just have a question.”

“Do…” Sirius was looking at Logan. “Do you sell…”

“What kind of question?” Saint cut in.

Remus spoke up. “A does-she-deal-to-Luke type of question.”

Saint laughed. “Deveaux?”

“You know who Luke is, Saint,” Remus sighed.

“Well, yeah I do, Lupin, he tried to buy off me,” Saint shook his head with a tisking sound. “Turns out he’s a prejudice piece of eye candy. Who knew.”

“Come on,” James sighed, rubbing his eyes beneath his glasses. “Please, Sirius, come on.”

Sirius shrugged. “We don’t know who Dorcas deals to. We’re not involved.”

“If you did would you tell us?”

Sirius smiled, just a little. “Probably not. But I really don’t know.”

James sighed, sagging away from the table. He looked at Remus. “Fuck.”

“What were you hoping to accomplish here?” Sirius asked slowly.

“We—” Remus said, then sighed, too. “We were going to see if she would agree to stop. If it was her, if she would stop giving it to him.”

“We’d pay her,” James added. “Obviously.”

Saint scoffed, and Logan laughed a little, too, from beside him.

“Obviously,” Saint mimicked.

“We just meant—” Remus began.

“We know what you meant,” Sirius said.

Saint popped a fry into his mouth. “If we’ll clean your pools for a few bucks, we’ll grant you three wishes, too.”

“Jesus, Saint,” James groaned.

“Mary. Joseph—”

James ran his hands through his hair. “We’re sorry, we misspoke. We’re just trying to help our friend. His dad got taken to jail, his mom pops pills all day and night. That’s already draining what little money the bank didn’t seize and if he wants to do anything with his life he needs a straight head. Just—fuck, we’re just asking.”

Saint prided himself on gathering information, but most of that were things he didn’t know. Luke’s dad had got taken away. But the pills? The financial distress? All of that paired with that guarded snarl the boy always seemed to wear…it almost made Saint feel sorry for Luke Deveaux. He almost said so.

Instead, he said, while twirling the cross around his neck. “Wow, he must feel like an orphan or something.”

“All right,” Remus sighed. “James, let’s just go.”

“What does he look like?” Logan said suddenly before they could turn to leave.

James looked a him warily. “Um. Sort of blond-ish. More brown-haired, I guess. Big guy, built and tall and all that. Oh, he’s got this green spot in one eye.”

Logan nodded. James raised an eyebrow. Saint waited.

“How much will you pay me to stop selling to him?” Logan finally said. He rose as he did, slinging his backpack over one shoulder. “That’s a lot out of my pocket.”

“Logan,” Saint said, but Logan didn’t look at him.

James blinked. “I—oh. Oh, uh—God, what do you want? Two hundred?”

"One grand,” Logan said.

James laughed. “Dude. Who the fuck are you? No, I don’t have that much just—on me.”

“Logan,” Saint warned again, and this time Logan did look at him. Saint shook his head softly.

“Fine,” Logan said through his teeth, and held out his hand. “Two.”

James took his wallet out and handed over the cash.

“Thanks,” Remus said from a little behind James’ shoulder. “Really.”

Logan just nodded, shoved the bills into his pocket, and headed for the door.

“Pardon,” Saint sent a grin to them all, and followed him.

Once they were outside, Saint gave him a wack on the back of the head.

“Fuck,” Logan swore. “S—”

“You get out of that shit-hole and you go around selling Crucio? To Gods?”

“I—”

“I mean, seriously, what the fuck was that? Do you know how not careful that was?”

“I don’t even know who that boy is,” Logan bit back.

Saint blinked. “What?”

Logan looked out towards the ocean where they could hear the waves crashing against the shore. “He offered to pay, and so I told him what he wanted to hear. When his friend shows up hallucinating next, that’s their problem.”

Saint scoffed. “Fine, okay, clever boy. But you do sell Crucio.”

“Felix,” Logan countered. “And yes.”

“Crucio. And no.”

Logan shrugged. “I need the money.”

“For what?”

Logan looked at him and, this time, his eyes were hard. Desperate. “For Finn.”

Saint froze. He opened his mouth, and then closed it. “Excuse me?”

“If I can get enough cash, I can get Finn,” Logan said.

Saint stared at him, and then Saint laughed. Then, he laughed louder.

“You’re shitting me,” Saint said. “You think that?”

“What do you…”

“You think you can buy Finn out?” Saint repeated incredulously. “You think you can walk back in there and buy Finn out.”

Logan took a breath. “He—”

“Logan, Jesus Christ,” Saint snapped. “You walk anywhere near that place and you are never getting back out.” Saint pressed a hand to Logan’s shoulder and shook him. “Do you hear me?”

“I need to do something,” Logan shouted back. “I need to do something, I can’t just leave him in there, he’s everything to me.”

Saint shook his head. “He got you out. Don’t waste that.”

Logan nodded, eyes bright with tears now. “And you know he got punished for it. You know he did—”

“Stop,” Saint spat, glancing around, as if anyone could hear. “Don’t.”

“You could help me,” Logan said, wiping his nose. “Bash, you got out once—”

“No,” Saint said, and turned away. “No. And don’t call me that. Don’t you ever call me that.”

“Please,” Logan begged. “Please—Saint.”

Saint whirled on him again. “I am never going near there, and neither are you. Finn’s still in there, fine. But he’ll need to get himself free like us if he wants it bad enough.”

“I owe money,” Logan began, then his breathing hitched. “I owe them, I took some of it to see—to see Finn and…Bash—Saint—”

“Them?” Saint took a step forward. “Them?”

Logan pressed a hand over his eyes, but Saint walked forward and pulled it away.

“Logan,” he said lowly. “Tell me you didn’t.”

Logan closed his eyes, mouth twisting against his tears.

“Tell me, right now, that you didn’t let the Carrows tell you they’d help you. And that you didn’t believe them.”

Logan shook his head, not in negation, but in defeat. “I need him. I need him, I’m so…I’m alone.”

Saint pulled Logan against his chest and let him cry. The sobs heaved out of him for a long while, until the collar of Saint’s shirt was wet. Until Logan was breathing softly again, exhausted, and until his voice sounded shot when he spoke.

“You’re really staying with Leo?” Saint asked, more gently this time.

Logan nodded.

“I have a place, too. Here, in The Hollow. If you want.”

“With the others?” Logan rasped.

“What others?”

“How many others are out?” Logan said softly.

Saint shook his head, fingers in Logan’s hair. “Just me, that I know of.”

“You still wear it,” Logan said, pulling back to look at him. “The cross.”

Saint let his hands drop with a last touch to Logan’s hot cheek. “So do you.”

They were both silent.

“I’m sorry about Finn,” Saint said rigidly. “I know how much he meant to you.”

Logan’s brows pulled together. “He’s not dead.”

Saint nodded. “Right.”

“Saint…” Logan began, and Saint heard the almost B instead. “Would you—just thinking about it—“

“No,” Saint said, and then turned and went back inside.

Sirius, back at the table, looked at his face, and then at his wet shirt.

“Okay?” he asked softly when Saint sat down.

“Just dandy,” Saint replied, and looked towards the door. Logan was gone.

#warnings: brief mention of drugs and past abuse and death of a father #relic keel #lumosinlove #relic keel lumosinlove #wolfstar #wolfstar fic #saint #lumosinlove ocs #Logan tremblay #Leo knut #lelo #Logan Tremblay x Leo knut #o'knutzy

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nik-the-bik · 4 years ago

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"Exchanging Body Heat" - Jekyll & Utterson Fic

Here I go combining the "snuggle for warmth" and "only one bed" cliches like the hack that I am.

Jekyll/Utterson is superior y'all

CW: Some hints of internalized homophobia from one of the characters. A character feels kinda guilty for having sexual thoughts and I definitely scaled it back from what it was in the first draft but if I need to go further please please please let me know.

Read more of my "Oh My God They Were Roommates" fics?

*****

It was late, bitterly cold, and the winter winds rattled against the ice-covered window as Henry Jekyll finally came back into the tiny room he shared with Gabriel Utterson.

“Any spare blankets left?” Gabriel asked, teeth chattering as he sat on his bed wrapped in nearly every sweater, jacket, and blanket that the two of them possessed.

“None,” Henry sighed, wrapping his own collection of sweaters and coats tighter against himself. He brushed a hand through his hair, which was getting far longer than he was used to and starting to grow out into a thick collection of curls. “I don’t know how we’re expected to sleep tonight.”

“I cannot believe that the school hasn’t found us any alternate housing,” Gabriel said. “How can we be expected to live through the winter with a hole in the building’s roof? It’s negligence, and quite frankly I’m willing to start a nasty petition to--”

“The hallways are freezing,” Jekyll murmured, coming to Gabriel seated on the bed.

“Are you alright?” Gabriel asked, lifting the blankets to let his best friend sit next to him and wrap himself in their warmth.

“I will be,” Henry smiled at him, his cheeks pink from the bitter air that dominated their dormitory.

Henry’s smile warmed Gabriel only slightly. “What are the others doing?”

“Well,” Henry began, “the folks who were able to reach the extra store of blankets first seem to have hoarded them all for themselves—”

“That’s kind of them—”

“--and there’s a collection of people camping out around the fireplace in the common room.”

“How many?”

“There’s barely any space to walk around them on the floor.”

“Dear Lord.”

The two sat in silence for a moment, the only sound the shrieking of the wind outside.

“This never would have happened in that brand new building near the river that you would have been in if I hadn’t—” Henry began.

“Henry, don’t.”

“Well, it’s true.”

“None of this is your fault,” Gabriel said, staring hard at Jekyll. “I wouldn’t change my mind about living here with you for a moment.”

“I still wish that I could afford better.”

“And I wish your father wasn’t such an arse.”

Gabriel was pleased to see that Henry’s glum expression cracked into a small smile after that comment.

“Besides,” Gabriel said, “it’s really not unbearable when we’re both under these blankets together.”

Henry’s smile widened and cheeks grew a touch rosier. “That’s thermodynamics for you.”

“What now?”

“Thermodynamics,” Henry said, that small twinkle in his eye appearing as the topic turned to his favorite subjects. “Well, more like entropy, really. It’s when energy transfers from one thing to another as heat.”

“Oh.” “Entropy is neat because everything is always trying to reach thermal equilibrium. So, because you were warmer than I was under these blankets, your body is trying to warm up my body.”

Gabriel blushed. “That’s, uh—”

“Before, your body was just losing heat to the outside air, which was much cooler than your own temperature. Now that I’m here, and my temperature is maybe slightly warmer than the outside air, I’m helping you preserve more of that heat energy for yourself. Make sense?”

“Mmhmm,” Gabriel affirmed, suddenly unable to look at Henry without feeling flustered.

“And then a little friction should help too,” Henry said, teasing now as he started rubbing his hands rapidly over Gabriel’s shoulders, shaking him back and forth.

“Alright, alright, I get it, Chemist.”

“Well, thermodynamics is really more in the realm of physics—”

“A technicality. It’s all science stuff.”

“I thought little technicalities were important to Lawyers.”

Gabriel finally brought his gaze back to Henry’s and was filled with that comfortable fuzziness of seeing his friend looking so affectionately back at him.

“I guess what I’m trying to get at,” Henry said, glancing downward, “is that if we want to stay warm tonight, maybe it’s best if we stay close.”

Gabriel’s stomach flipped. “What? But—but how?”

“Well, I know it’s not ideal, but—” Henry started, his whole face blushing now.

“But?”

“But if we shared the same bed and used all of the blankets together, we’d probably avoid frostbite tonight.”

Gabriel gulped. Share a bed? Share an itty bitty single-person bed? With Henry? The two of them would have to be practically on top of each other!

“Do you really think—”

“I know it won’t be very comfortable at all, but—”

Gabriel’s mind began to wander to the two of them, wrapped in each other’s arms, Henry’s body beneath his--- his eyes flickered back up to Henry’s. “If it means surviving the night and being able to keep all of my fingers in the morning, I think we can manage.”

Henry gave him a shy smile in return. “I think we can manage. Just for a night.”

“There are plenty of worse people I could be doing this with, anyway,” Gabriel teased.

Henry laughed. “I can’t think of anyone else I’d rather explore entropy with.”

“God, Henry, when you say it like that—"

Both erupted into nervous giggles.

“Well—should we try to get some sleep then?” Henry offered. Gabriel felt his heart do a little skip as he nodded.

Neither of them bothered trying to clean up before going to sleep. They didn’t want to risk losing any of the warmth they had built up in their little blanket pile together. The two of them worked themselves into a position on Gabriel’s bed, which sat further from the very poorly insulated window than Henry’s. With Henry being the taller and broader of the two, and both a bit bulkier from all the sweaters, it was tricky finding a position where they could fit comfortably without Gabriel being cradled right up against his chest.

“Are you alright?” “Mmhmm.”

“Maybe if your arm goes—”

“Yeah.”

The two of them lay chest-to-chest, Gabriel just slightly on top of Henry, hands against his chest while his face rested in the crook of his friend’s neck. He felt the thrill of his heart fluttering in his chest, something he was all too cognizant of with Henry being oh-so close. He couldn’t deny how good it felt to be laying against him, the weight of a thick pile of blankets laying heavily over them both. Henry squirmed slightly underneath him.

“Do you mind if I--?” he asked, as he pulled his left arm, slightly trapped under Gabriel, out and instead draped it over his friend, resting it comfortably around his waist.

Gabriel blushed deeply, grateful that they had turned out the lights before laying down.

“Is this okay? If not, I can move,” Henry whispered.

“No, no, it’s perfectly fine. If I’m practically crushing you, you deserve to be as comfortable as possible,” he answered.

Henry sighed, and the two lay still for a moment.

“I’m sorry if this is uncomfortable for you. I know it’s weird, but—” Henry began.

“Henry, I’m alright,” Gabriel muttered, heart sinking. “Besides, there are plenty of worse people I could be with, remember?”

Henry chuckled. “Goodnight, Gabriel.”

“Goodnight, Henry.”

They grew quiet. The bit of Gabriel’s face that was exposed to the open air felt the chill of the room while the rest of him basked in the warmth of the little nest they had created together. Soon he became used to the gentle rhythm of Henry’s breathing as his friend quickly drifted off to sleep. Gabriel, however, wasn’t very tired at all.

It had been a little over a year now since Gabriel had realized his romantic feelings for Henry. He loved him, deeply, and was content to spend the rest of his days loving him as the best of friends if that was all Henry ever wanted. But there had been plenty of nights where the two laid separate in their own beds, Gabriel fantasizing about scenarios a bit too much like this one. He’d lay there, thoughts wandering to embarrassing places as Henry lay innocently on the other side of the room. He would never dare confess to these private desires and risk destroying his friendship with Henry, even though Gabriel had no idea how Henry would react if he ever did find out about his feelings. It’s not as though the topic of homosexuality had ever come up naturally…

A tiny part of him wanted to harbor hope. To hope that Henry cared for him too, that Henry could also—

Fear squandered that part of him though. Gabriel wasn’t one to let himself daydream like that for very long.

Still, here they were. And it had been Henry who had suggested cuddling to stay warm, hadn’t it? Did this even count as cuddling if it was utilitarian, the way he had tried to assure Henry that it was?

Cuddling or not, Gabriel couldn’t help but relish in this moment. It was almost perfect. He cherished the sound of Henry’s gentle breathing, his smell, the feel of Henry’s strong arms around him, the feeling of his chest beneath his hands…

It was around then that he felt Henry move beneath him. Henry sighed, pulled him closer, and –

Dear god. Had he felt Henry’s lips brushing against his forehead, or was he only imagining it? He could have sworn that it had felt like the softest, most delicate kiss.

Gabriel felt himself tense up and his breath catch. Surely that was an accident? A trick of the mind? Nothing but wishful thinking? It took all willpower he had inside of him to deny his instinct to snuggle closer to Henry, wrap his arms around him, kiss his neck, tangle their legs together—He felt his face grow hot and his breathing get shallower—mind exploring places that his hands would never dare. His heart was racing and surely, surely with how close they were, Henry must be able to feel it too?

A wicked thought sprung into his head, and before he had time to rationalize it away, Gabriel felt the devil seize his tongue.

“Henry, H-henry!” he whimpered.

Henry stirred and lifted his head just a little. “What is it?”

“I-I-I’m fr-freezing, please—”

“Come here, come here!” Henry pulled him still tighter to his chest and didn’t pause for a second when Gabriel threw his arms around him. Soon Gabriel could feel the firm pressure of Henry’s hand rubbing along his back, each movement sending his poor heart into a frenzy. A tiny part of him felt guilty deceiving him like this, tricking his friend into letting him delight in their bodies entangled together, indulging in his deepest fantasies.

Yet he had never, ever, felt so deliciously warm.

#jekyll and hyde #the strange case of dr jekyll and mr hyde #gabriel utterson #jekyll/utterson #henry jekyll #dr jekyll #mr utterson #dr jekyll and mr hyde #jekyll and hyde fanfic #nikki tries to be a writer #exchanging body heat in the passenger seat oh no no #not me googling basic thermodynamics for 20 minutes last night like some kind of moron #sfw

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boop-le-snoot · 4 years ago

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cupid carries a gun

masterlist • taglist & faq

dark!Bruce Banner x named!Reader. Rated R.

Dr. Banner is a serial killer known as the Doctor and Bailey has his soulmark. He escapes imprisonment and meets his soulmate. ~2,2k words. Serial killer fluff??

[no y/n, no 'you', no reader description, race/age/body type neutral, only first name]

This is more of a concept I wrote in an hour than an actual fic. I think it would make a good multi-chapter, but really, my hands are full now and I just needed to get this weird dream off my chest. Yes, I had a dream he was a serial killer and I was his soulmate 💀🖐🏻 I need to ease up on true crime shows istg...

St. John's was suffering a nasty collective psychosis. That would be the only logical explanation Bailey is willing to accept for the jittery, jerky way everybody is behaving. Some of it could be attributed to the armed guards roaming the halls and scaring the patients - but in America, a gun slung over the shoulder shouldn't invoke such a reaction from people.

Only select few know what these people are there for, anyways. Most hospital population is clueless, only vaguely perceiving the sense of dread those harbouring the knowledge seem to carry around. People are easily scared - the thought doesn't leave Bailey's head her whole shift.

She, however, knows exactly what is happening. She's good at her job, brilliant even, nerves made of purest steel and bedside manner perfectly compassionate and tender. It doesn't come as a surprise that she is the one that got chosen to handle the problematic, uncooperative patients.

The bar is high, and this time - neigh impossible. A man so dangerous, so volatile, it required the sheriff to dispatch their town's squadron of special forces - not that was anything but a slight setback for the Doctor. The halls of this hospital will be forever marred with their blood, will forever be haunted by the echoes of their screams abruptly cutting off with a wet squelch.

Bailey thought she'd done her part to protect the innocents. Her colleagues, young women just like her (they're not, Bailey's mind whispers), all safely locked away in a storage closet for the cops to find. There are no windows and He won't see or hear them... If they're smart.

There he is, the man everybody is savagely afraid of. He is everything and nothing she had imagined - Doctor Bruce Banner is on the shorter side, stocky and sickly pale in his hospital issue pajamas, the bluish tint to his skin contrasted by dark crimson stains of blood on the rancid green cotton of his clothes.

The axe in his hands is held firmly but clumsily - Bailey's sure it wouldn't have been his weapon of choice should he had been given one. A choice. She swallowed the unease that spread all over her determination like mold, seeing his eyes, wild and crazy, land on the crook of her arm - where his mark laid, bright red and angry, as if it had been carved into her flesh mere days ago.

"Are you, perhaps, in need of a nurse, doctor Banner?" Bailey inquired softly, fingertips shaking, as the man crossed the space between them with short, powerful strides. The woman's stance widened, involuntary shivers running through her bones at the unexpected tenderness coming from him - Dr. Banner's palms gently wrapped around her arm, warm, chapped lips touching the angry, red soulmark near the crook of her elbow.

"It's been so long since I had a nurse," the man's mutter was barely audible. His eyes, the warmest brown she'd ever seen, met Bailey's wide, shining ones, for her to discover no trace of the madness she was told should be there. Bailey smiled.

As the hospital building grew smaller in the rear view mirror, so did Bailey's anxiety, paving way to excitement and muted curiosity. Her mother always had told that fate had a way of intervening when it was needed - and her mom had oftentimes taken up the role onto herself, moving them out of the state when Bailey's soulmark began to appear on dead people's bodies, burned or cut into skin as a signature. Bailey was not old enough to understand what it meant, back then, but she'd always been a clever girl.

With her first mobile device, she figured out why her mother strictly prohibited her from speaking about it, why her mother always kept a stash of large bandaids to cover it should Bailey be required to remove her long-sleeve shirt.

Only Bailey's physician knew. She'd expected terror, disgust - or even pity, but Dr. Strange always kept his mouth and eyes shut. As Bailey grew older, blossomed into a fine young woman, she thought she saw envy leak into his chiseled features - but Dr. Strange was as quiet and cynical as ever.

As long as nobody tried to separate them, it would be fine. A small smile stretched her plush lips, hand squeezing the one holding hers with giddiness creeping into her youthful features. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed an expression of curious tranquility on Dr. Banner's- Bruce's face as his eyes stayed firmly on the road as the radio crackled static in-between songs.

"Penny for your thoughts?" The man she'd grown to crave and fear, his salt and pepper curls bouncing with every pothole the car hit; his warm hand, larger than hers by a stretch, provided comfort she hadn't known she needed.

"Where to, doc?" The woman couldn't hold back the anticipation. She wanted to hold him, to be close - closer than her small, cramped cheap car allowed them to be.

"I have some friends waiting for me," the man announced, as if he hadn't spent the last five years in a maximum security prison. Not that it mattered to Bailey - but knowing there was no way back from this, Bruce's so-called friends became a point of doubt to the young woman. The doctor noticed it, his responding smile both dangerous and comforting, all sharp canines and moist lips. "You know them, baby. Dr. Strange is a colleague of mine and Tony Stark is a great friend."

Bailey's eyebrows rose, mild disbelief caught somewhere in her trachea as she attempted to clear her throat. Her family physician and the businessman rumoured to be the largest crime boss of their side of the pond. Suddenly, Strange's long glances and penetrating stares acquired a new meaning, a sense of indignation seeping into Bailey's newly found joy. "And he never said anything," the longing, the countless nights spent studying every publicly available material on Dr. Banner, the killer surgeon that terrorised the Tri-State area burned acrid in her chest.

"He told everything to me," Bruce's remark stung if only from the fact that he'd known about her all along. "Who, do you think, pushed for your transfer to St. John's?" Bruce's smile glinted a little wicked in the meager light of passing-by streetlights as the evening sun simmered down to a rest below the horizon. "I don't actually have cancer," the second remark was more optimistic, spoken hopefully, with another gentle squeeze to her hand.

Bailey puffed out a breath she didn't know she was holding. The puzzle pieces slowly started to arrange themselves, revealing a bigger picture than the one before. She wanted to be mad - mad at Stephen, for not saying anything; mad at Bruce, for getting himself caught years prior. And the anger at her own mother, for taking away her right to stand by her soulmate, for all the countless fights and nights spent locked up in her room.

Bailey had been treated like a monster as soon as he soulmark showed up - and after so much time spent trying to show she wasn't one, perhaps, it was time to face the truth. Perhaps, it was time to show them how much of a monster she could be, if they were so unhappy before.

Gravel flew under the wheels of Bailey's beaten up Toyota Corolla, sending little pebbles to bang noisily against the bumper and the stone flower beds surrounding the driveway to a large two-story mansion. Two cars stood in from of it with two men leaning each against their own vehicle.

The shorter figure was well-dressed, suit obviously bespoke and expensive, sunglasses reflecting the headlights of her Toyota even from a distance away. The taller figure stood out with familiarity, a lit cigarette freely dangling between the finger of his gesturing hand - Dr. Strange and his long, sculpted legs, Bailey could recognise even from a mile away.

Bruce parked, killing the engine and exiting the car with a free, lopsided grin carelessly thrown in Bailey's direction. Fumbling with the lock of her seatbelt, the woman's eyes latched onto the figure of her soulmate eagerly embracing the shorter man, their reunion evidently long-awaited and happy. Stephen's coarse laugh penetrated the interior of the car as the wacky passenger side seatbelt finally let Bailey free.

Three pairs of eyes bore into her body still wearing the scrubs from the hospital - one laughing, Strange was amused; one curious - none other than Tony Stark and his shameless smirk had made an appearance at their first getaway destination; and Bruce, looking so damn proud and lovesick. The grin tugged at Bailey's lips as the presence of the other men barely registered in her elevetaed emotional state.

"Damn, Brucie-bear, lucky you," Tony Stark wolf-whistled, clapping the doctor on the shoulder and receiving a fond eyeroll in return. Those two really were good friends. "Well, I won't hold you two back from getting to know each other better," Stark wiggled his eyebrows salaciously. "We can talk business tomorrow," with that, Stark waltzed over to Bailey, snatching the keys to her car out of her hands with a quick flick of his wrist. "Can't have a car allegedly containing a runaway prisoner on my property, now can I? Don't worry, babycakes, my people will take care of it. Bruce is family. You better treat him well, or else," the river of words flowed from Tony's mouth, causing the surprised Bailey to simply freeze in place and withstand his rambling, surrounded by the smell of whiskey and Stark's expensive cologne.

Despite his easy tone and the relaxed demeanor, Bailey knew a dangerous man when saw one. Tony Stark was not to be fucked with. "Yeah," she mumbled, scampering for the trunk to take out the duffle bag she carried around everywhere - just in case. Just in case her serial-killing, incarcerated-for-life soulmate would somehow found his way to her.

Tony looked at the spectacle with amusement. "You won't need your ID, sweetheart. All of that is going to be taken care of, don't worry your pretty little head about it."

"Duly noted," Bailey couldn't help the annoyed frown at Tony's frivolousness. Her government ID was the last thing on her mind. She wasn't stupid, she knew her mother would go to the cops as soon as she saw the news. "I have my own business to attend to. Might need a hand," the realization came with the dull thud of the trunk being slammed shut.

Tony's eyebrows rose; Bruce approached her with caution, wrapping an arm around her waist from behind. "Is it urgent?"

"Her mother knows about their connection," Strange piped up, glowing ember of the cigarette flying somewhere over the car. The sound of a lighter followed immediately, another dot of shiny red standing out in the twilight. "Don't worry, Bailey, she's detained and sedated for the time being," he offered with a crooked smirk, nearly no trace of the quiet man who bandaged her boo-boos when she was a child.

"You planned this," Bailey observed, fighting the dread crawling up her spine. The realization - she will never step back, will never be able to escape this life - set in. She was unprepared, having acted on a whim, prepared to live on the run but not within an arm's reach of her previous life yet unable to resume it.

"A long time ago," Strange nodded. "You always were a clever girl, Bailey. It is delightful to finally you where you belong," he smiled at Bruce in earnest.

Bailey wondered what else was going on in the sleepy town of hers. What kind of atrocities were committed daily under her nose, by the very people she knew and trusted. There was so much evil in this world.

But not Bruce. He could never be evil, even as he cut the hearts out of the men that had been treating those around them as objects. Bruce merely made them what they should've been; the greed, the infidelity - what use did those men have for their hearts? The Doctor was merciful and true: he never caused his patients undue pain and always, always left them in a state they were true to themselves. It wasn't his fault so many of his patients were heartless beasts for men.

Those clever hands, the same hands that brought the world at his feet, brought Bailey at his - voluntarily so. Their bodies hot, impatient for each other, with their blood singing a song of lust and longing, both of them hidden from the world by the heavy velvet curtains of Tony's estate - it was hellfire in heaven.

No amount of time too long as Bruce's teeth closed around Bailey's jugular, sinking into the flesh tenderly, all the while her nails penetrated the skin of his back; both drew blood, content to drown in it and wash their sins away with it. Heaven and Hell were merely words for the two, anyway.

Bruce Banner taglist:

@couldntbedamned @mikariell95 @letsby @sleep-i-ness @toomanyrobins @mostly-marvel-musings @persephonehemingway @schemefrenzy @lillsxd @bluecrazedandbeautiful @slothspaghettiwrites @pilloclock @sapphicnoodle69

#dark!bruce banner #bruce banner x reader #dark!bruce banner x reader #tw serial killers #what is this even asdfgk #my followers: FORGIVE ME #please #this is so undercooked 😭😭😭

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fanficflaneuse · 5 years ago

Text

Hardly A Date

Index

A/N: Hello lovelies! I’m sorry this took me so long. This has been a very awkward week. I was sad and I tried to dump my feelings into writing, but sometimes it’s not that easy...ugh I’m sorry. I hope you like this one. It was requested a while ago. Sorry for any grammatical mistakes. Also, I gave reader the physical characteristics of Lily Potters for (insert some good reasons). So, I am sorry if it’s not as immersive as it could have been.

Dearest anon requester, I’m sorry this took me so long. Let me know if you read it and like it (I really wish you do).

Draco x Potter! Reader (she/her) Word count: 2735 Summary: Draco has a crush on Harry’s twin sister, who resembles Lily Potter.

Enjoy!

Harry sulked all the way to potions class. It was the first day of fifth year and his twin sister, (Y/N), was getting too much attention for his liking. He had always thought his sister was beautiful, but now every boy in school seemed to have realized it as well. Over the summer, she had grown taller and curvier. Her red hair had darkened a bit more. She wore it long, which framed her face delightfully. The resemblances to their mother was such that not even aunt Petunia could deny it. It made her harsher towards (Y/N), but not even that dampened the girl’s spirits.

(Y/N) felt confident as she walked by her brother. Since they set foot on Hogwarts, she had been the more popular twin thanks to her kindness and vivaciousness. She paid no mind to the looks and laughed at her brother’s overprotectiveness. As the Fab Four sat at the very front, as per Hermione’s request, (Y/N) felt something hit her in the head. Her hands searched the back of her hair and grabbed the paper crane that landed on her head. She turned around to find the one and only Draco Malfoy staring at her wide-eyed. He had sent the bird as a taunt to her twin brother and in no way had intended for it to hit her. The thought of her seeing the cruel drawing inside the bird made his stomach churn.

Draco was transfixed. It was the first time he saw her since last year and her striking green eyes were doing wicked tricks to his heart. Since year one, he had a crush on her. He thought those who didn’t acknowledge her beauty should be burned at the stake. A year before, the blond had simmered in jealousy when he saw her at the Yule Ball with her brother, but that image paled in comparison to seeing her now. He cringed as she turned around, opening the paper crane.

Just as she did, Snape came in to the classroom. He was not in a good mood and it only got worse when he saw (Y/N) Potter sitting on the front row. She was scribbling something on a piece of parchment. She was the spitting image of Lily Evans during her schooldays, back when they were still friends and he clang to the sliver of hope that she’d love him like he did. It was almost painful to see his student. Her presence soured his mood even more, so he decided he was not putting up with it.

“Eva�� I mean, Potter,” he said, motioning to (Y/N), “change places with Goyle.”

(Y/N)’s gaze went back, once again, to the back of the room, where the Slytherins sat. Gregory Goyle was sitting just besides Draco. She stood up silently and put her things in her bag. Harry groaned lowly.

“I’m definitely failing now,” he murmured.

(Y/N) gave him an encouraging smile. “It’s going to be alright, Harry. You’re good at this.”

“Never as good as you, sis,” he countered, “And if that prick does something to you I am going to kill him.”

She rolled her eyes in response and dramatically bid her brother goodbye. She walked all the way to the back of the room, where a very embarrassed Draco Malfoy waited for her. She greeted him cordially as she took her place. Draco and (Y/N) hadn’t crossed more than ten words at a time. She was not a hothead like Harry, so she hardly gave in to the taunting. At times, when he said something particularly nasty, she’d snap. Her comebacks were intelligent and sharp and often than not he’d be to flustered to answer. So, they were not on good terms, but not on a “I want to burn you alive and dance over your ashes” basis.

“I believe this is yours, Malfoy,” she said coolly after handing him the paper crane.

The Slytherin swallowed hard and took the bird from her hands without saying a word. He listened intently as Snape gave the instructions. Out of the corner of his eye he noticed her flipping through the pages in her book until she settled on the one with the recipe for the draught of peace.

They brewed the potion in silence. Draco was enamoured by (Y/N)’s gentleness and the way she’d handle everything with the utmost care. She was also unnaturally kind, as she didn’t seem bitter at him for the paper crane or anything, really. It was a relief.

“Are you sure we have to powder the unicorn horn?” He didn’t intend for it to come out as mean, but it sure sounded like that.

(Y/N) raised an eyebrow, as if challenging him, and theatrically put more pressure on her mortar. Her lips turned into a mischievous smirk and Draco had to stop what himself from putting too much powdered moonstone into the cauldron.

“I recall you saw me read the instructions,” she answered matter-of-factly.

Draco scratched the back of his neck. He took a deep breath and nodded at her sheepishly. “Just checking,” he murmured.

“You should check your hands before adding the ingredients,” she teased as she pointed at the moonstone.

He smiled and raised his hands in mock surrender. “Are you suggesting that I don’t know what I’m doing?”

“I suggest nothing, Malfoy. I affirm.”

Draco was about to answer, finding the playful banter amusing, when Snape scolded them from his desk. Assuming they had been bickering, Harry turned around, shooting daggers at the blond and giving her sister encouragement she didn’t need. (Y/N) shrugged and, after her twin turned around, smiled kindly at Draco. After that, they worked mechanically. As their potion turned into the desired turquoise blue colour, (Y/N) even concluded that they were a good team.

As Snape approached to their desk, (Y/N) noticed how he didn’t even spare her a glance. He talked to Draco and asked him questions about the process. And when he gave them their well-deserved O, it was Draco he congratulated. (Y/N) said nothing of it, but found it frustrating. When he walked away, she released the breath she always held when he graded her and started packing.

Before she left, she flashed her classmate yet another impish grin. “I exhort you to open that paper crane.”

Once she was gone, the Slytherin opened the folded bird to find her intervention to his work. He had drawn Harry being hit by a thunder and falling off his broom. She had altered it for it to be him, falling and hitting the ground wrapped in a cloud of dust. It was so well done, Draco couldn’t be offended.

…

For the next two months, (Y/N) and Draco worked together in potions. Every time, they’d engage in small talk and friendly banter. He marvelled at her wittiness and her sense of humour. He loved it when she got dramatic and made theatrical gestures or used aristocratic language just because. Draco was falling hard and fast for the redhaired Potter.

It actually made him wonder over the nature of his hatred for her twin brother. He found her funny and charming. He felt so at peace when they spent time together. And then there was Harry Potter, who he found utterly irritating, brash and self-righteous. He didn’t understand how they could possibly be related. She was amazing in absolutely every way he was faulty.

Maybe he didn’t particularly hate Harry? And why didn’t he ‘hate’ (Y/N) anyways? She was just as self-righteous as her brother. They were practically joined at the hip and she was always involved in the same shenanigans as Harry was. They had the same eyes. Why hate them in one and love them in the other? What was the real reason for him to go out of his way to torment (Y/N)’s twin and friends?

Deep down he knew.

These thoughts consumed him as he did his rounds for the inquisitorial squad. At first, he had joined Umbridge’s team because he wanted the authority and for a while he enjoyed it. Then, (Y/N) and Harry got punished by their sadistic teacher and he no longer wore his badge with pride. He knew they were up to something, but seeing (Y/N)’s swollen hand during their next potion class was enough to feel ashamed of his position.

Draco was just about to go to his common room, when somebody collided with him. He was too deep in his thoughts to feel the rush of getting someone in trouble. And then noticed the deep red hair and the scared green eyes. His heart started beating hard on his chest.

(Y/N) was absolutely terrified. She hadn’t realized it was Draco at first; she was running as fast as she could from the room of requirement. Usually, she left D.A. meetings with Harry, but today he was playing Don Juan with Cho Chang and everyone else was gone. She was good at sneaking around. She was halfway there when she saw Peeves and decided to make a run for it before he saw her and woke the whole castle.

That’s how she had ended practically in Draco’s arms. She was sweaty and out of breath and now she had to deal with the Slytherin prince. He was nice to her in potions, but she wasn’t sure that was enough to get her off the hook. (Y/N) imagined herself getting another detention with Umbridge and it made her want to cry.

“Hey, it’s okay,” he said as he grabbed her face tenderly.

For a second there, she thought she was hallucinating. She looked at him, eyes still teary, but also full of confusion. He smiled awkwardly, suddenly self-conscious of their position.

“A-Are you alright?”

“Just a bit agitated.” She tried to be as casual as possible.

“Let me walk you to your common room. That way nobody else will get you in trouble,” he said, offering her arm to her.

Draco knew that she was up to something. If he wanted to, he could’ve gotten all the dirt on their little secret society. She would’ve been in a lot of trouble and he’d be the hero of the school. He said nothing, though, especially because she was holding onto his arm for dear life. They walked peacefully towards the Gryffindor common room and with every step he could only think about the idea that had been brewing in his mind for a while.

(Y/N) thought she was in the most ridiculous situation. She was a member of Dumbledore’s Army and he was Umbridge’s minion. He could’ve gotten her, her brother and friends in trouble, which was what he had wanted to do since their first day in Hogwarts. And here they were, arms linked as he escorted her to safety.

Suddenly, they stood in front of the Fat Lady’s portrait. (Y/N) looked at Draco with gratitude. He nodded and offered her a smile. With trembling fingers, he tucked a piece of hair behind her ear. Draco noticed (Y/N) blushing a little.

“(Y/N)…there’s something I’ve been meaning to ask you,” he said, the sudden rush of confidence making him lightheaded.

“Yes?”

“Would you go to the next Hogsmeade trip with me? On a date?”

(Y/N) was speechless. She didn’t know Draco thought of her that way, but suddenly the fact that he didn’t rat her out made sense. Of course, he wouldn’t be as lenient had he found Harry or Hermione. She thought about it for a second and smiled when she noticed him getting uncomfortable.

“Let’s make a deal, Draco. The next Hogsmeade trip is a week from tomorrow. If you don’t bully anybody during the week, I’ll go out with you,” she proposed.

She noticed his eyebrows knitting in confusion. “What does that have to do with anything?” he groaned.

(Y/N) crossed her arms, amusedly. “Why would I want to go out with somebody that messes with my brother and my friends?”

He considered her for a while and then sighed in defeat.

…

“Is it true that you agreed to go out on a date with Malfoy?” Ron asked in alarm the next morning.

“I didn’t agree,” (Y/N) shot back as she put food on her plate.

Harry was looking at her disapprovingly and she was doing her best to avoid his gaze.

“You agreed to go out with him if he went a week without bullying us,” Hermione interjected with a reproving tone.

“That I did.”

“(Y/N)!” Harry roared.

“Wouldn’t it be nice to not be bullied for a change?” she asked him innocently.

“If the cost is that git snogging my sister then no, it wouldn’t be nice.”

(Y/N) gave him a stern look.

“What? That is what happens on dates, (Y/N).”

“Then you should hurry up and ask Cho Chang to one as well.”

She tried to be humorous, but it clearly didn’t work, so she tried to reason with him instead.

“Come on, Harry. It would hardly be a date,” she said while holding her twin’s hands, “besides, I know Draco can be a nice person if he tries. He has been to me in potions. Why not give him a second chance?”

Harry scoffed. “Why would I ever give that tosser a second chance? He has been messing with us since our first day here!”

They looked at each other and for a moment they had one of their silent conversations. Hermione and Ron stared as Harry failed to be stern and (Y/N) conveyed compassion in her eyes. As always, Harry gave in.

“You’re too kind for your own good, you know that?” he sighed, “and I mean it this time, if that prick does something to you I am going to kill him.”

…

“Which one’s better, ‘Mione?” (Y/N) asked as she held one dress in each hand.

Hermione helped her best friend get ready for her date. As much as she disliked Draco, the week events had made her realize he truly wanted to go out with (Y/N). Throughout the week, Harry and Ron taunted the Slytherin in hopes that he snapped at them, thus ruining the date before it even took place. Hermione had frowned upon their Machiavellian plan, but had not intervened nor rat them out. As the days went by, though, she noticed how hard he was trying to be good. He looked the other way as the Gryffindor boys laughed and teased. He avoided making snarky remarks in class. Once, he even helped Hermione when she tripped and fell.

It had been a very hard week, but he had succeeded. Now he waited awkwardly by the portrait for (Y/N), who arrived a few minutes later. She looked as beautiful as ever with a pretty floral dress. They smiled at each other and walked out of the castle, this time with the regulatory distance according to Umbridge’s decree.

As they made their way to Hogsmeade, (Y/N) thought this could possibly be the most awkward date of her life. It didn’t help that it would probably her first real date ever. What could they have in common apart from their shared space in potions? What would they talk about? Then, she noticed how Draco was fidgeting with his fingers. She found that cute and it made her instantly relax.

As they sat at the Three Broomsticks, all of their collective fears of a bad date were soon proved wrong. They had a great time together. They talked about their favourite candies, their favourite pastimes, quidditch. Draco asked about her life as a muggle with genuine curiosity. She was actually very blunt about her situation at home, something that both marvelled and unsettled him. They laughed and made jokes and got theatrical together.

They walked back to the castle hand in hand. Once they reached the school, Draco dragged (Y/N) through some less frequented corridors. Engrossed in their conversation as they were, they failed to notice the Gryffindor trio following them. Harry and Ron were absolutely enraged as they saw the couple stop behind a column. Hermione had to restrain them when Draco put his hand on (Y/N)’s cheek. She squeezed their arms as the blond boy leaned in and gave (Y/N) a kiss she happily corresponded.

Harry was livid. His baby sister had her arms around that slimy git’s neck. He wanted to rip his head off.

“Hardly a date my arse,” he muttered under his breath.

tags: @cleopatera @okaydraco @naomi02hook @the--queen-of-hell @honeymarvel @the-hufflefluffwriter

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littlefreya · 4 years ago

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omg i just stumbled across "jerk" and i think if i don't get more of your august walker pieces i'll die 😭😭 seriously i love a good hate fuck and more importantly, I LOVE YOUR WORK!!

Hey, bb!!! Thank you so much for this. Jerk actually has a part two called Easy Prey 💖

Anyway, since you asked for more August, here is my August Walker Masterlist

One-shots

Smut 🔥🔥🔥

Velvet Chains - Soft!August x Reader (smut. August Walker as a sex-worker, sexual intercourse, unprotected sex, loss of virginity, a depiction of bodily fluids, soft!August themes, a tinge of angst and August’s monster c… ) - For a generous fee, August Walker is yours. A man devout to pleasure, who will worship you for an entire night and make sure your first time is more than memorable. 🎃 NEW 🎃

Prince of Darkness - Devil!August Walker x ofc (DARK! NonCon, kidnapping, stalking, breeding, exhibitionism, loss of virginity, supernatural stuff, sex in a cathedral, mention of heaven and hell.)🎃 NEW 🎃 The Devil ascends back to earth in search of his bride.

Dangerous Games - August x Reader x Walter Marshall (Smut, sex, MaleDom/FemSub, cockwarming, orgasm denial, male masturbation, praise, degradation, facial, mentions of DP and anal) You’ve got yourself into a perilous situation with two dominant men. Now the question is: which punishment will you choose.

More under the cut

Destroyer of Angels - August x ofc (Smut, Non-con, breeding kidnapping, loss of virginity, ) The cruel Duke August Walker takes what he wants and what he desires above all is a young maiden

Nice Day for a White Wedding - August x Reader (Explicit Smut, maleDom) What made you think you can get away from August?

Violent Delights - August Walker x Reader (Smut, facefucking, rough oral, depiction of bodily fluids, some eventual fluff, MaleDom/FemSub.) You will give August what he wants, you will let him fuck your pretty little mouth and come down your throat. His pleasure - is yours. 🎃 NEW 🎃

Poison Honey - August Walker x Reader ( Passion, romance, sexual innuendo, a “thrill of the chase” if this may trigger anyone and mild alcohol use.) Everyone around you is too busy getting drunk and making out, while you are just dying for this dreadful Christmas party to be over. But just as you plan to leave, you catch the eye of a very hungry August Walker. 🎃 NEW 🎃

Elevator Ride - August Walker x Reader (grinding, public fingerfucking, exhibitionism, depictions of sex, orgasm denial.) Riding the elevator with Agent August Walker, you believe he would never dare try anything with all these people around, but oh, darling, you could never be so wrong. 🎃 NEW 🎃

Pink Umbrella - August x Reader (Fluff to smut, soft!August Walker, DD/LG, thigh riding, gloves fetish (it’s a thing now), dirty talk, a tint of angst and slight twist ending.) August is on a mission in beautiful Paris and had you join the ride, but while he wants you to stay safe at the hotel, you have other ideas.

Midnight Special - Artie Walker x Reader (Romance) The end of the summer annual BBQ is usually boring, but this one is about to take an interesting turn. 🎃 NEW 🎃

Hood Ornaments - August x Reader ( unprotected public sex, rough, maleDom/femSub, hair pulling, anal play, creampie, depiction of bodily fluids, profanities, praising and degradation, glove fetishism, exhibition) August fucks you at the parking lot while wearing leather glove

Jerk - August x Reader (male masturbation, lewd language, mentions of rough sex, degradation, anal and oral (both male and female receiving), depiction of bodily fluids and slight angst.) August sits alone in his office, thinking about the one he can’t have.

Easy Prey - August x Reader (dark, kidnapping, bondage, dubious consent, teasing, dirty talk, gunplay, sweet degradation and praise ) Direct sequel to Jerk. Ring or not, August promised himself that he will make you his, in whatever mean possible and he kept that promise.

The Big Bad Wolf - August x OFC ( abuse of power, rough cage fucking, hatesex, unprotected sex, hinted breeding, risky creampie, possessive behaviour. On the safe side it’s borderline dub-con.) If there is anything August enjoys it’s breaking those who resist him. Now trapped in his little cage, the little bird has no where to fly to

Daddy’s Girl - August x OFC (Explicit Smut, hatefucking) She walks around pretending she is better than him. August is going to show her who is the king around here.

Afternoon Delight - August x Reader (smut, daddy kink, Cock warming ) You leave work early and come home to find August pleasing himself in your shower. His Princess - August x Reader (Explicit smut, daddy kink, creampie) August works too hard and all day long, you miss him and decide to tease him with some photos of you in lingerie Thanksgiving - August x OFC (Explicit smut, public fingering) August Walker, the hardened CIA agent is meeting his girlfriend’s parents for a thanksgiving dinner. She’d rather forced him into it. Now, how sorry is she going to be by the end of the meal? One more touch before we die August x OFC (Explicit smut, romance) Set in a cabin on the mountain, August and his woman make passionate, desperate love. Sense Challange - Touch Bourbon and Candy August x OFC (Explicit Smut, daddy kink) After a frustrating day at work, August just wants to sit down and enjoy his princess, in any way possible.

Sweet & Spicey August x Reader (Sub!August, oral, Smut + Fluff ) You get to pay August the favour and finally take control

Nasty - August x Rader (Explicit Smut, meta-voyeurism) August is fucking you and forcing you to watch while he is doing it. Basically, the dirtiest thing I’ve ever written.

The Director - August, Sy, Henry, Walter, Geralt x OFC (Explicit Smut - gangbang, breeding, anal, basically everything) He said no one touches her but him, but he is willing to make an exception, as long as it’s on his terms.

Crimson - August Walker x Reader (Smut, period Sex, mentions of blood and such, dom possessive behaviour, slight breeding kink.) 🎃 NEW 🎃 Having Period sex with August

Black Tears - August Walker x OFC (First-person POV, smut + angst) 🎃 NEW 🎃 There cannot be peace without first a great suffering, but how much suffering can a person endure?

Fluff 🌈🍧🧁

Kiss it Better - August Walker x OFC (3rd person POV Fluffy, sticky, gooey fluff and floof with a tint of naughty suggestion) 🎃 NEW 🎃 August takes care of his girl after she fell

Monster August Walker x OFC (Romance) They call him a monster, but he is your monster

Shelter - August x Reader (Strictly soft sticky fluff) Lazy morning cuddles with August 🎃 NEW 🎃

Something Wicked - August Walker x Reader (Fluff) August sleeps tightly and you decide to exploit the situation. 🎃 NEW 🎃

Angel, can you hold me? - Soft!August x ofc (Angst to fluff) Bad guys need to be held as well

No More Tears - August Walker x OFC (August’s POV, Angst) On a cold autumn night, August muses over the girl he lost.

Series

The New Order mini-series - August x OFC, Smut, romance (completed) FBI Agent Lizzy has no idea that her dominant boyfriend, August Walker, is a dangerous terrorist. Part 1|Part 2|Part 3|

Stalker Walker 🎃 NEW 🎃 Drabble series, August x Reader (Smut, stalking) [ 1 ][ 2 ][ 3 ][ 4 ][ 5 ]

#henry cavill #august walker #august walker x reader #august walker x ofc

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the-lightning-mage · 3 years ago

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OC Interview: Graham Trevelyan

It’s Graham’s turn. This is set after Here Lies the Abyss and before Wicked Eyes and Wicked Hearts. I might do one for him set after Trespasser later. I don’t think there are any spoilers for Like Lightning in a Bottle, but be careful.

Introduction

Can you introduce yourself?

“I can,” he leans back in his chair, “I am Lord Inquisitor Graham Trevelyan. Some call me the Herald of Andraste, but I’d prefer if you didn’t call me that.”

What is your gender identity, orientation, and relationship status?

“I’m a man, and I prefer the company of men. And only men. As for my relationship status. The rumors are in fact true. Dorian and I are together.”

Where and when were you born?

“I was born in my family’s ancestral home in Ostwick in 9:12.”

What is your weapon of choice and fighting style?

“I’m an archer, so I use a bow. I prefer stealth, because that means I’m less likely to be fighting in close quarters. I trained with... Maker, what was the name? Heir? I think? Anyway, Heir taught me some of the tricks that the best assassins in the world use. As Dorian said it was nice to add some flair. I just wanted to be more efficient.”

Lastly, are you happy?

“I’m probably as happy as I can be in this situation,” he shrugged, “I have a man I love, dear friends, and I’ve been reunited with my sister. Focusing on all the negative things just leads to a really nasty spiral of thoughts, and next thing you know Cole’s trying to pilfer things from the kitchens in an attempt to cheer me up.”

Family and Friends

What’s your family like? What is your relationship with them?

“As far as I’m concerned the only blood relative of mine that I consider family is Holly, my sister. Other than that, my Inner Circle is my family. People bicker, but deep down, some deeper than others,” he paused to chuckle, “we care.”

Have you ever ran away from home?

“Yes. I don’t know how I didn’t end up being forced into the Templars.”

Would you consider marriage or having children?

“I don’t want to scare Dorian, but I would absolutely marry him. Not now. There’s too much happening now, but yes. I would consider marriage. Now, we can’t have children of our own, but I’m fairly certain that Holly and Cullen will get married eventually, and have children. I’m fine with helping them out.”

Do you secretly hate one of your friends?

“No.”

Which friend knows everything about you?

“Holly doesn’t count, because she’s my sister, and Dorian doesn’t count, because, well have you read the other answers? Well there’s Cole, but he can read minds. I don’t know. I’m close with everyone in my Inner Circle.”

Other

Are you religious?

“I don’t think most people would consider me to be,” he looks uncomfortable, and starts running a hand through his hair, “I think the Maker exists, just because the alternative seems to frightening to me. Andraste did exist, but outside of that, my beliefs don’t go much deeper.”

What is one thing from your past that you would change?

“I would’ve found a way to visit Holly while she was in the Circle. My family had the money for it.”

Are your parents proud of you, or would they be?

“I have no idea. They probably have mixed feelings. I know they definitely wish it was one of my siblings in my shoes instead of me.”

Choices

Drink or food?

“Food. Alcohol is alcohol in my book, but Maker, good food can change everything.”

Cats or dogs?

“Cats... sometimes I wish I was a cat.”

Optimist or pessimist?

“An optimist. Some people think I am one just for the sake of our soldiers and workers, but it’s for me too. I felt hopeless when we were stuck with that fear demon, and I never, ever want to feel that way again.”

Sassy or Sarcastic?

“Both. Though I think Holly would say annoying is a better word.”

Have you ever

Been caught sneaking out?

“Yes, and the confusion as to how I never ended up as a Templar continues.”

Broken a bone?

“Somehow, no. I’ve dislocated things, pulled muscles, but no broken bones.”

Received flowers?

“Yeah. Josie regularly gets me some. I get random bouquets all the time. I always keep the flowers, but I usually throw out the cards. Some of those nobles ought to listen to the rumors.”

Ghosted someone?

“No?”

Pretended to laugh at a joke you didn’t get?

“Yes. I hate it every time.”

#dragon age inquisition #dai #dragon age #inquisitor #graham trevelyan

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ace-trainer-risu · 3 years ago

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oh here! i’ll come ask you for book recs lol. do you have any spooky and/or autumn-y book recs? or just your fave books :)

First of all, I'm sorry this took me SO long to answer. I want to say I've been busy but it's just been general [waves hand vaguely] life.

ANYWAY thank you for asking! I actually don't read scary stuff a lot b/c I'm a wimp, but I have a few spooky/autumnal books up my sleeves! Let's see what we've got!!

1) The Little Stranger by Sarah Waters

Let me just start by saying that Sarah Waters is one of my absolute favorite authors ever! All her novels are suspenseful, twisty historical novels with great female and queer characters. Although, fair warning, actually The Little Stranger is like her one novel that isn't queer, but it is VERY good. If you read The Little Stranger and like it, please read Fingersmith and/or The Paying Guests.

The Little Stranger is set in the countryside of post-WWII England and follows a mild-mannered doctor as he becomes increasingly involved in the lives of the family living in the local, increasingly decrepit, possibly haunted mansion. Think Downton Abbey but creepy. Strange things keep happening inside the house, from dog bites to mysterious sounds to creepy black spots. Literally just typing that gave me goosebumps. It seems like someone may be out to get the family, but who...or what? Is it simply the ghosts of their own painful memories, or is something more? Sarah Waters is excellent at lush, intricate historical detail, and she leans into that here to create an atmosphere of slowly building dread and horror and mystery.

That being said, as a person who isn't normally a fan of horror, I don't think this book is too scary. It's more of an atmospheric, psychological horror than a jump-scare, bloody horror. It's not a book that will give you nightmares (probably), but you might lie awake thinking about it.

Also. Pro-tip. As a haunted(?) house story, the house is obviously fairly central to the story. Dear fellow Americans, keep in mind that the British refer to the floors of a building differently than us. For Americans, the ground-level floor is called the first floor, the floor above that the second floor, etc. For the British, the ground-level floor is the ground floor, and the floor above that is the first floor, etc. There's all sorts of creepy references to characters hearing noises above them on the first floor, but I was just like, Why are they always in the basement?

2) Mexican Gothic by Silvia Moreno Garcia

This and the above are two very different books, and yet they are both set in the mid-1900s and both are about weird, creepy, maybe-haunted houses. What can I say, I like gothic fiction.

After our heroine, Noemi, receives a bizarre, borderline incoherent letter from her beloved cousin, she sets out to visit her in the literally decaying mansion she resides in with her husband and his new family deep in the countryside of Mexico. All Noemi wants to do is persuade her cousin to come back home with her, but her cousin's new in-laws are very determined not to let that happen...or to let Noemi leave either. Secrets abound in the bizarre house and even creepier nearby cemetery, and soon Noemi finds that she too is suffering from bizarre dreams and visions...although, are they just dreams?

This book is so weird, but in such a good way? I read it for a book club and every week we had increasingly bizarre theories about what was going on, we were googling alchemy and fungi and St George, and some of our theories were even right. Although definitely not all. Another very twisty one that keeps you guessing.

In terms of scariness, interestingly I think there's more overtly creepy and horrifying moments in this novel than The Little Stranger, but I found TLS more overall scary? But that may be because I read it quickly, which I think is the ideal setting for suspenseful stuff, and I read Mexican Gothic over a longer amount of time since it was for a book club. This one does have some more typical horror elements to it, but I don't think it's more creepy than terrifying.

3) The Echo Wife by Sarah Gailey

I listened to this one as an audiobook and the audiobook is excellent so would recommend that, but have no doubt it would also be great to physically read.

Oh my god this book...it's more thriller than horror, but I think it fits the brief. There were multiple moments listening to this book that I literally gasped or said "OH MY GOD!" out loud, and there are moments which are very creepy and horrifying. There's a particular scene in the backyard... Again, incredibly suspenseful and twisty. And the character development and character psychology is just! really really good! There's also really interesting and knotty feminist stuff which is a lot more complicated and nasty than some of the "girlboss" stuff which is popular right now.

Super minimal summary: All you really need to know is that it is a sci fi novel about a scientific researcher trying to pick up her life after her marriage has imploded, only for everything to go BATSHIT WRONG. Trust me, that's all you need to know, it's better to go into this not knowing what's going to happen or what to expect. I had no clue what this novel was about when I started it, and holy shit. Very good book, absolutely recommend this if you want some super suspenseful, creepy sci fi that will make you say "oh my GOD" repeatedly.

Okay, shifting gears a little now b/c autumn isn't just spooky, it's also cozy and restful and daydreamy!

4) The Thinking Woman's Guide to Real Magic by Emily Croy Barker

This isn't maybe a cozy book per se, but it's a great book to cuddle down with on a dreary day and lose yourself in. If you've ever asked yourself, "What would it be like if you crossed Pride and Prejudice with Howl's Moving Castle except the wizard was way worse but somehow still sexy" - then you should read this book! I actually came across this book b/c I was like, I wanna read a book that's a portal fantasy but for adults, and this book was like OH here's everything you wanted.

It's about a grad student, Nora, who has totally stalled out on her dissertation and is at a shitty wedding when she accidentally wanders through a portal into a beautiful, fantastical fairy world. At first, everything is amazing and literally perfect...but surprise surprise, not all as is it seems, and soon everything goes to, how should I put it, shit. Nora escapes, but rather than returning home, she finds herself trapped in a far more dreary realm. But not one without it's own charms and it's own magic, and Nora finds herself the student-slash-sorta-captive of the crochety, sexy, maybe-killed-his-wife magician Aruendiel* and she begins to learn magic herself.

Unlike the above books, this is not a fast-paced, twisty book, and I think if you go into this expecting high fantasy along the lines of Game of Thrones, you may be disappointed. It's not really a typical high-fantasy novel, it's more of a cross of an 18th/19th century realist novel, a fairy tale, and a fantasy novel. But if you want that, then it's REALLY good! I loved this book! And the magic in it is so cool, something about the way its described feels so visceral and real and like you could really do it if you just tried hard enough. There is a romance and it's totally, intentionally hashtag problematic, but it's very laid back, very slow burn, so I think even if you aren't a person who digs romance you can still enjoy this. If you're looking for a feminist-leaning fantasy novel that you can just sink into and lose yourself in, this is the perfect book. You will long to magically fix broken plates.

5) The Ruthless Lady's Guide to Wizardry by C.M. Waggoner

Honestly I can't even justify why I think this one is an autumn book. It simply is. It's autumn colored in my head. It is the coziest book I have ever read about necromancy and crime. Also I just want to recommend it. This is another one that I listened to as an audiobook and it's also a good audiobook, for those who are interested. But it also means I will not be able to spell absolutely any of the character's names.

This novel follows Delly, an enterprising young scoundrel of a fire witch with a teeny tiny gin habit as she attempts to support herself and her hot-mess of a mom in the roughest neighborhoods of Fantasy-City-That-I-Can't-Remember-The-Name-Of. Lice...gate? When Delly comes across an advertisement for a bodyguarding job for young women for a hefty fee, it seems like the answer to definitely not all but at least some of her problems. She accepts, along with an interesting assortment of other sorcerous young ladies, including a wonderfully bitchy Absentia (my love), a young woman who can turn into a boar, boar girl's necromancer mother, and the very sexy part-troll Winn, who in my imagination looks like Gwendoline Christie and talks like Miranda Hart. Which. Perfect woman. Winn being a fine, wealthy young lady, Delly can't help but think to herself that it wouldn't be such a bad thing if Winn happened to fall in love with her and carried her off to be rich and spoiled the rest of her life.

Of course, things quickly don't go to plan, and soon Delly and her companions find herself caught up in wicked schemes of murder, drugs, and an undead mouse named Buttons who says BONG. I love Buttons SO MUCH.

This book is just a silly romp of a novel which worms into your heart and your brain. It's fun and cute and gay, and also it made me cry. I haven't stopped thinking, "Not quite regulation hammerball" since I listened to it like half a year ago.

Also, while I'm here, this novel is set in the same world as and features a few of the same characters as Unnatural Magic. Which is also a hell of a book. Literally the best bisexual relationship I have ever fuckin read. It's a winter book tho, so I simply can't go into it here.

Aaaaand...that it's! Happy autumnal reading :)

#things you didn't care to know about veronica #book recs #disastershy #i'm sorry it took me so long to answer! it's just been burning in my inbox for weeks and only today #did i have the courage and strength of will to get to it!#jk i just felt like doing it now :)#thanks if you read the whole thing!!!!!

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solitvdcs · 4 years ago

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* kathryn newton, cis female + she/her | you know zoey simon-archer, right? they’re twenty-three, and they’ve lived in irving for, like, eight years? well, their spotify wrapped says they listened to a little wicked by valerie broussard like, a million times this year, which makes sense ‘cause they’ve got that whole black clothes and black coffee, dark under eye circles barely covered with concealer, might put a hex on you thing going on. i just checked and their birthday is august 10, so they’re a leo, which is unsurprising, all things considered.

TRIGGER WARNING: CHILD ABANDONMENT

basic info

full name: zoey tallulah simon-archer

birth date: august 10, 1997

pronouns: she/her

hometown: boston, massachusetts

sexuality: bisexual

height: 5’1”

eye color: blue

hair color: blonde

build: slim

tattoos: one of her younger siblings doodled on her arm and she said ok i see u and made it permanent

piercings: basically every piercing you can get on your ears split between both (no piercing is in the same spot except maybe the earlobes, she thrives on the chaos), septum

style: if it’s black and shapeless then yes

favorite color: black

favorite food: whatever she can find in the house while scavenging at 3am

zodiac: leo sun, scorpio moon, capricorn rising

mbti: istp

hogwarts house: ravenclaw

enneagram: type 4 wing 5

temperament: choleric/sanguine

alignment: chaotic neutral

bio bullet points

CHILD ABANDONEMENT TW it’s unclear how zoey came into this world, but what we do know is that she was dropped off on the doorstep of a fire station before her birth mom disappeared into the night. no note, no keepsakes, just two week old zoey wrapped in a nondescript blanket that was probably the one the hospital wrapped her in. the rest of her childhood was a blur of failed adoptions and shitty foster homes across the country (east coast especially), leaving her with no ability to fully connect with anyone and, okay, maybe a mild anger problem. rage blackouts weren’t uncommon, but in one foster home they had an old nintendo 64 and she learned to channel her anger through video games instead END TW

along came the archers, a lesbian couple that already had twelve other children. zoey was fifteen already and had fully expected to age out of the system and end up another statistic. for a good year after the adoption was finalized, zoey still didn’t trust that they wouldn’t send her back, so she acted out. she wanted to give them an excuse and get it over with, but her tactics went unnoticed in a cheaper by the dozen-esque household. her new moms couldn’t give her the attention she craved with so many bodies, but her older siblings stepped up and tried to make her comfortable. it sort of worked, but being smack dab in the middle of so many kids meant she faded into the background more often than not

at school, she thrived without trying, a natural aptitude for math and science and mechanics landing her a place on the robotics team, but because her many siblings had already made names for themselves, the archer name was almost like a curse for her. she didn’t want to be known as another archer adoptee, so she went by the name she’d carried with her from birth: simon. zoey simon could be her own person, whoever the fuck that was

one day, the robotics coach brought in their old computer for anyone who wanted to tinker around with it, and wanting an excuse to stay out as long as possible, zoey jumped on the opportunity. over the course of the semester (with the coach’s guidance) she took apart and put it back together again, upgrading it with some donated parts from a local electronics store. the best part? coach let her keep the computer after she was done

obligatory at some point she cheated on frankie with both sutter and ziggy ✌️😗

anyway we’re onto college, where she got hella scholarships and grants for being a girlboss and ended up at university of michigan, studying mechanical engineering. money was still tight, though, so she spent her first year trying to balance studies and a part time job at the local superstore, but her mental health and grades started suffering to the point that she almost lost her scholarships for her second semester. Between semesters, over a night of video games with her roommate, she offhandedly suggested zoey start live streaming her playthroughs. it may not make all that much, but a few viewers and subs would be better than nothing

but oh boy did she do better than a few viewers and subs

using a digital rendering of a random avatar and a voice modulator, psychozomatic was born, and they blew up. popular streamers started inviting her to their servers, and she made enough to cover all of her extra costs and then some — she graduated summa cum laude because of streaming, but she couldn’t stop after graduation; she was doing something she loved and getting paid for it. that’s what people always hoped for in a job, right? so after graduation, she fabricated a job to her friends and family to explain the income, moved into her own apartment with a soundproofed second bedroom (that she kept under lock and key for whenever anyone came over) and kept up the facade. it’s been five years and nobody even knows she’s a girl — female streamers get so much shit, she’s not sure she ever wants to do a face reveal. she’s perfectly content for the time being having everyone think “zo” stands for “lorenzo” or “vincenzo” or whatever, and being a faceless streamer means she gets the weird blend of notoriety and anonymity that she craved her whole life

personality wise, zoey is a mash-up of deadpan humor and snark. she’s never been good at face-to-face communication, which is why streaming works so well for her. she’s never known how to flirt and has been known to tie someone’s shoelaces together in an attempt to get their attention, which has obviously not worked out for her. once showed a person she thought was cute the computer she built and well...they were impressed but nothing came out of it. she’s probably a lost cause, but she can just play a dating simulator if she’s that lonely

is big on first person shooter games — the main reason she keeps her identity hidden, because people get nasty in those lobbies. also absolutely loves horror games, currently doing a playthrough of resident evil village on her stream

wanted connections

fans of her stream !!! obviously they wouldn’t know it’s her but it’ll still give her a lil smile and maybe even a blush if she hears someone talking about “zo”

other gamers she’s played with ???

people she met in the foster system

someone who has a crush on her and she has no idea bc she can’t read people (and vice versa)

friends of her siblings that had no idea she was one of them (i’m mean to her bt i think it wld be funny)

i’ve been working on this intro for like a week this is all i got pls take it and run <3

#irvingintro #u would think for how long i've been working on this it wld be longer but no <3 #anyway enjoy xoxoxoxo

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pandemilkbread · 4 years ago

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paubaya (angst!oneshot)

authors note: hello! i had an angsty dream last night and instead of pouring out my thoughts and using it to write on my story... it made me write a oneshot. also, the new moira song had me thinking— why shouldn’t i make this into an angsty oneshot too... hm.

anyways. please enjoy :>

Bakugo Katsuki x Reader

Paubaya

noun /pa·u·ba·ya/ origins. filipino

summary: You were far from being a pessimist; but you knew, you utterly knew, that loving Bakugo Katsuki would end in heartbreak.

intro.

You loved reading. Your favorite part? The ending. Especially when the villain’s wicked schemes go haywire at the hands of the prince, who in the name of love saves his beloved from their wicked hands.

As a past time, you would imagine the days when your own prince charming would sweep you off your feet; promising his unconditional love for you. Showers of light glistening all the way to your magnificent castle.

But by the tender age of nine did you start doubting those acts of prose in fairytales. Maybe, just maybe, if you believed hard enough he would finally show up.

And by the miserable age of eleven, when your own father left your home for the final time, the only words of assurance your mother could give you were:

“Oh, honey. Sometimes the hardest kind of love is the one you have to leave behind.”

first verse.

You loved writing. Your favorite part? The words. How they instantly relieved yourself of thoughts that lurked deep within your subconscious. Your hands scribbled endlessly on the pages of your notebook, professing your love for the kind boy in class (oh, please someone save your sweet heart).

The contents of your diary will forever remain confidential. The objective? You thought by writing down how you felt for him could you move on from his clutches. He wasn’t necessarily a villain, but to you— a fragile girl at the age of thirteen, he could easily scar you for life.

A bit over the top for someone so young; but you like to think about it this way. To save yourself from the embarrassment of rejection, to save yourself from bawling your eyes out thereof; keeping it to yourself was the best course of action.

When the burden became too heavy, you continued writing every single feeling down until you were left empty to the core. What’s left to do? Rip out each and every page and burn it.

Yet, it was a mishap really. When the gods decided to play you like a fool when the medium of your leaked thoughts disappeared. A joke? Not a funny one at all.

And only on the rooftop of your middle school building did you realize where your missing item went. Into the hands of the person you liked.

By now, you were fuming. How dare he take something that did not belong to him? How dare he—

“How stupid is it of you to believe that any fraction of kindness anyone gives you is equal to love?”

He was right. You were stupid enough to fall for his good looks and kindness, you were dumb enough to be swayed by his charms. Though his angelic persona couldn’t stop you from punching the lights out of his face.

(but the cries of his friends hiding behind the door did.)

pre-chorus.

Bakugo Katsuki was an enigma. It was near impossible to comprehend how someone that attractive could be devil’s reincarnate, you even felt the heat of Hell radiating out of his body.

He was no prince charming; no one convinced you otherwise. And yet, you couldn’t help yourself but fall for the antagonist. The epitome of a fairytale villain right in the flesh.

You first met him in high school, your first year specifically, in the nurses’ office. As a student intern for Recovery Girl, you spent most of your days in her office handling paperwork. Quite surprising really how a quirkless student like you made it into the prestigious school in the first place.

Well, where you lacked you made up for. You had your brains to thank. It made up for the lack of power, good enough to get you in the general department.

Anyhow, if someone came up to you and said ‘you’ll be swept of your feet, baby!’ you’d scoff and retort back in laughter. But when Bakugo Katsuki came into your life, it was a pretty close demonstration of what it felt like to be a princess— one that was blasted of her feet.

(and you didn’t mean it figuratively. nope, he really did blast you off your feet.)

chorus.

How it happened? Simple, a rage visit to the nurse.

The door slammed open revealing an irked pomeranian covered in bruises. Bakugo marched over to your desk looming an irritated expression. For someone who’d look like he could blast you into smithereens, you stared in awe. He was really attractive in person.

You’ve heard of the boy from passing conversations in your department. His name frequently mentioned when the words sports festival and kidnapping popped up. His reputation couldn’t prepare you for his good looks, you would never admit it but, god does he look good.

And with that, he said his first words to you: “What the fuck are you looking at?”

Ah, yes. How romantic. You held back an eye roll and stood up. Predictable. He was probably looking for Recovery Girl to fix that bleeding gash on his temple, but sadly the latter was unavailable. Something around the lines of quick bathroom break or teacher meeting.

“She’s not here. Bear with it for a sec, let me get something to help.” You mumbled.

Being the only intern for the office had its perks, you freely practiced first aid when the paperwork was bearable and no one was around. You cleaned the wounds with an antiseptic, then proceeded to patch them up with bandages and some gauzes.

You found it amusing how the loud boy remained quiet on the chair while you were working on him. You finished your treatment with a pat to his head, “Good boy, you can leave now.”

Your words just seemed to rile him, ending the conversation with a “What’dya call me, ugly!?”

second verse.

By now, you were well-acquainted with Bakugo’s bunch of friends that you call the semi-crackheads and the real-crackheads. It was easy to differentiate the members into the two categories. All you had to do was think: among all of them, who had the most potential to burn down the school in flames?

Bakugo obviously stands at the top of that list followed by Kaminari, and Mina. The other lesser two evils, Kirishima and Sero, were safely sorted into the semi’s.

How you met? Simple, repetitive gestures you did whenever you saw Blasty.

After the events in the nurses’ office you’ve come to notice the boy more at school. Whenever lunch came around your eyes would instantly search for his figure, darting around for any sign. When it ends in vain, you sighed.

The next day however, you found him by the corner of the cafeteria with his friends. You focused your time gazing at Bakugo’s mop of hair, and in turn, he looked up and met your own. You sent him a nasty grin and for some reason, he sent a glare back.

The boy, obviously distracted from the conversation at their table, caused sets of eyes to turn to the source of his focus. Now gazed upon not one, but five sets of faces with undiscernible looks. So this is what being the center of attention feels like.

(you sincerely hoped it would stop. though you only have yourself to blame for it.)

pre-chorus.

Time flies quick when you’re surrounded by people who make your life difficult. And when you mean difficult, you mean constant trips to the nurses’ office when any of the quintet manage to injure themselves. Unsurprisingly, this happened frequently.

Apparently, the pomeranian revealed you worked for Recovery Girl and made his friends intrigued. Especially when he called you “ugly” more times than they could remember.

You were already on your second year of high school when Mina proposed you joined their group study session. Evidently, you had the best grades in the general department, well— except for math, and they wanted to use it to their advantage. You willingly accepted though, with the exchange of having blastboy teach you your weakest subject.

(only after being taunted.)

You felt the rush of heat that swirled in your stomach when Bakugo meets your eyes, grinning. It remained in your thoughts the night after, the feelings rising and falling every second that passed.

By then, you knew you were screwed. Oh god, he was going to break your heart.

chorus.

“Do you like someone?” You muttered one day. The other four members of your so-called study group (more like a cramming team, you’d retort.) missed out on today’s session as they had other things to do.

This left you and Bakugo as the only participants. The silence was unbearable, truthfully you had done enough reviewing to last a year, but you wanted to attend for the sake of seeing his face.

You knew he was a loud one, a potty mouth at that, and it was worrying to see him so... silent. You wanted to break the peace by riling him up and to your disappointment, he remained silent.

He did reply though, minutes after.

“...Shut up, extra.”

His usual snap backs always made you laugh. Even when it looked like he was going to send you into an early grave. But the way he said it right now, made you nauseous. Something akin to dread swiveled within you. No, it couldn’t be?

One of your many talents lie in the skill of perception; and perceptive you were. More so when it involved the people you cared about, and you more than cared for feisty boy.

You reached out and grabbed him by the collar, forcing him to look into your eyes. The tangerine color of the sunset couldn’t hide the pinkish hue that was plastered on his cheeks. Funny as it was, a part of you wanted to scoff. The Bakugo Katsuki likes someone.

With that, a small part of you shattered. The remaining bits of pieces tied together by a string hanging loosely in anticipation, was it you?

“Who is it?” You whispered.

You were far from being a pessimist and you held on to that hope so tightly. Please give me a chance, please don’t break it. In that matter of seconds before his answer, you prayed ever so gently.

And when he breathed out a name that clearly was not yours, all hope died.

(and you with it. if you had just kept your mouth shut.)

bridge.

Her name came up more often than you thought; and to your dismay, you noticed the growing grin that came along with it. Bakugo sported a different kind of vibe the moment any conversation stirred towards the object of his affections.

And more often than you liked; the feelings of anguish mixed with the bitterness twisted ever so constantly in your chest. Like a weighing anchor falling into the sea, an endless rope diving deep into its waters.

As cheesy as it was, you but feel... hurt? For what reason? You hardly knew yourself. Though a deep part of you truly hoped, maybe, even a tiny little bit, that he liked you.

Seemingly, your fondness for the boy must have clouded your senses by the time Kirishima showed up at the library one afternoon. With all knowing look, he sat down opposite of you and mumbled:

“You know, for a guy that’s pretty smart. He can be real dense sometimes.”

Your heart leapt. You took a deep breath and counted. One, he couldn’t know. Two, he shouldn’t know. Three, was it that obvious? Four, does he know? You flipped the pages of your textbook, pretending to be so immersed in the subject that—

“He’s never going to know if you don’t speak up.” Was he reading your mind now?

“How’d you find out?” You sighed, dropping your head into your palms.

“You’re not the only observant one.”

Of course. Besides the dense Bakugo, there were four other sets of eyes in your group. One of them must have noticed how stiff, or how unusual (more like miserable) you’ve been acting. You gotta hand it to them though, they work fast.

“It shouldn’t be like this. Why am I so miserable?”

A pause, then two, then three. Kirishima weighed your options, and like the supportive friend he was, he gave you an answer.

“You should talk it out. Let him know. Because at the end, you’ll be the one who suffers the most. Just try.”

outro.

And by some interference of faith, more like some intervention from Mina and coaxing from Kaminari, you waited outside the 3-A homeroom for the so-called love of your life. You’d prefer to stop the cheesy antics, yet your nerves were all over the place. You needed something to calm you down.

Earlier that day, you sent a message to Bakugo asking him to meet you halfway. 6 PM. Outside 3-A. Don’t be late, stupid. Minutes pass and there was no sign of the guy. Figures.

Just as you were about to call quits the man of the hour finally showed up, sporting a look of annoyance.

“You finally decide to text me back, extra.”

Of course he was mad, you ignored his texts the past week. Avoiding him like the plague.

“Hm. You missed me?” You heart beats frantically in your chest.

“Who would miss you, ugly.”

And there it was, the whomper. Giggles erupted from your mouth and you wiped the almost tears in your eyes. Although his words seemed derogatory, the way he looked refuted his words. He was visibly upset at your attempts of ignoring him.

“I’m sorry. The exams were really difficult.” You consoled. “I missed you too, Katsuki.”

With that, you saw the cogs twisting and turning in his head. His face showing a definite ‘what the fuck just happened’ expression. Of course he did, this was the first time you’ve ever called him by his first name.

You hoped for the best that was enough for you to get your message across. He was pretty smart, but pretty stupid. Oh well.

You sort of realized that even the words pass by his ears and he barely understood a thing, you were happy. Yes, you were still miserable. Yes, you wanted him to love you the same way you did. But, sometimes the best way of loving someone was to let them go.

You didn’t want to burden him with your problems, or even add more to his. So you decided to keep your feelings to yourself. Kirishima must be berating you right now. You laughed.

The journey to moving on would be tough. You knew it. Telling him the truth would be so much easier. You knew it too. Just like your mother said, sometimes the hardest kind of love is the one you left behind.

And no way in hell were you leaving Bakugo Katsuki.

end note: so that’s the end aaaaaa i wanted to keep it as a oneshot but for some reason... part two??? bakugo’s pov??? AAAAAAAAA okay yes reader chan kept her feelings to her self. it’s a bit sad, but you know... that’s life and you don’t always get what you deserve :<

thank you for reading!!

#bnha #bnha scenarios #bnha imagines #bnha oneshots #katsuki bakugo #bakugo katsuki #bakugo x reader #bakugo katsuki x reader #bnha fanfiction #oneshots #oneshot #boku no hero imagines #boku no hero scenarios #angst fic

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supeson · 5 years ago

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on my own feet

part one, part two, part three, part four, part five, part six, part seven, part eight, part nine , part ten, part eleven, part twelve, part thirteen, part fourteen , part fifteen

Hanging out in the Cave is definitely a weird experience. Knowing you’re in one of the most dangerous but at the same time safest places on earth is comforting, but also gives you a twinge more anxiety than you normally deal with.

You had originally come over to see if Bruce wanted to Netflix and chill, but sadly, Alfred informed you that “Master Bruce will be out for the next foreseeable hours.”

“Well, shit. Never mind, then. Since I already took the bus all the way out here, do you think I could crash here?” You ask, thumping your overnight bag on the floor of the foyer.

“How presumptuous. You’ve certainly come far from the shy young person that darkened this very door step two years ago,” Alfred says, raising an eyebrow. He steps aside nonetheless, a hint of a smile on his face.

You pump a fist like a golfer that’s just made a difficult shot as you walk past Alfred. “Well, to be fair, I’ve seen and been through a lot of shit since then. I’m anxious about other things now, my man.”

You putter around the mansion (which consists of trying to help Alfred with his daily tasks and failing), until Alfred wordlessly leads you to the dining room. Just as you’re about to ask about the books on the shelves, he moves the hands on the grandfather clock and sweeps and arm towards the stairs. “Master Bruce should be back in about an hour.”

You don’t say it, but you know he’s just trying to get you out of his hair. You at least have the decency to act accordingly; heading down the stairs with an apology and a sheepish smile on your face.

You’ve been down here for about an hour and some change, sitting and spinning in the chair in front of the computer, about to boot up another 45 minute YouTube video about some board game, when the waterfall at the end of the drive parts, and a motorcycle comes speeding inside. It comes to an abrupt stop in the circle a couple of yards away from you. Looking closer, you see it’s the Red Hood. He rips off his helmet, throwing it to the ground.

“Dumb fucker, how is it my fault those assholes caught us? Can’t even fuckin’ sneeze in front of the Bat without him blaming me for a typhoon in the Philippines. The kid was fine, I don’t- “ He cuts himself off as he locks eyes with you.

“Damn, how many blue-eyed, black haired orphans does Bruce know?” You don’t mean to say, but it slips out anyway. Red Hood immediately goes on the offensive, stalking towards you, when the waterfall parts again, and the Batmobile comes screeching in. Damian jumps out, flips over to his father’s side, lending him a hand as he hobbles out.

Bruce spots you instantly. “Why are you down here.”

You raise your hands defensively, eyes wide. “I was annoying Alfred, so he popped me down here where he wouldn’t hear my screams anymore.”

He wants to respond, but winces, so you hop out of your chair to go help him. Jason watches the exchange and starts forcibly laughing. “Aren’t you a little old to be a new sidekick? Don’t tell me he’s got you convinced of his ‘grand plan’ for Gotham. It’s all horseshit, y’know?”

“Jason.” Bruce staggers, and you buckle under his weight. Damian doesn’t even flinch (despite being shorter than you. You try not to feel miffed about it), just starts walking towards what you assume is their medical bay. You hobble beside him, trying support more of his weight. Hearing a screeching noise, you look back to see another motorcycle park itself beside the car, Batgirl popping off the bike and rushing past you into the next room, no doubt getting stuff ready.

You get him onto the table (well, Damian does, really), and Alfred apparently summons himself downstairs, knowing what’s going on without anyone saying anything. Cass passes him stuff as needed, while you’re plastered to the wall, watching with wide eyes. Thankfully it’s nothing too bad, just some gashes and wicked nasty looking bruises. Some stitches and whatever military-grade Neosporin they have on hand should do the trick, if you were to hazard a guess. Alfred gently pushes you from the room, assuring you that Bruce will be fine. Jason is waiting outside, arms crossed, waiting.

“So, what is it?”

You whip your head in his direction. “What?”

“What’s making you stay. You evidently know everything there is. What’s not clicking? He doesn’t give a shit about you, really. All he cares about is cleaning up Gotham. You’re just a side piece. As soon as you get hurt, or even killed, he’ll just move on. Why not take your bag and go?” Jason asks, eyeing you up and down. Tears burn at the back of your eyes.

“Todd. Stop.” Damian pipes up from the computer, chair turned around to watch the display.

“No, I wanna know. What is it? The money? You could get more somewhere else.” He snorts, “It can’t be the baggage. There’s not enough therapy in the world for him to unpack all of his issues. Y’can’t fix him, that’s for damn sure. What makes him so interested in you? Damian gave me the rundown on your situation. Are you hoping to move into the Mansion and live happily ever after? Because it won’t happen.” His arms are uncrossed, and there’s a a cold fire behind his eyes. He knows he’s pushing all the right buttons as tears start to fall. One more push and-

“Fuck you.” Your voice cracks as you say, but it’s enough. “Don’t fucking talk to me like I’m some fucking wet cat Bruce picked up out of the trash. I may be a lot of things, but I’m not a gold digger. I don’t want his fucking money. I’m sure if I met him on the streets and he had not a penny to his name, we'dstill be together. I don’t give a shit. I love him for his heart, okay. Is that okay? Can I just live my fucking life? I’d be content living in my shitty little apartment for the rest of my life and having him over to let my cats rub all over him and sit with me. And y’know what? I dunno. I dunno why he likes me so much. But that’s fine! As long as we still love each other, I don’t care. I don’t know you, or what your fucking problem is, but you can eat my whole ass.” You turn on your heel and go back into the bay, tears still falling. “I’m gonna sit with my fucking boyfriend.”

You slam the door behind you and sit beside Bruce, finally wiping your eyes and pulling out your phone to fuck around on until he’s lucid enough to talk to. You’re loading up your favorite rhythm tapping game when you hear him croak, “Eating your ass is my job.”

You drop your phone in surprise, face inflamed. He’s got one eye cracked open, his fingers wiggling. You that that for the signal it is and intertwine your fingers with his. “You’re not gonna be able to eat any ass any time soon, y’know. Someone’s gotta pick up the slack while you’re outta commission.”

Bruce lets out a laugh, a real, genuine laugh, and you start laughing too, which devolves into hiccups.

The rest of the night, you make him watch the new Babysitter’s Club reboot with you on your phone, until he’s okay enough to go upstairs to his own bed. Bruce wouldn’t have it any other way.

#bruce wayne #bruce wayne x reader #bruce wayne/reader #batman #batman x reader #batman/reader

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mst3kproject · 4 years ago

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Magic Christmas Tree

I thought I’d try something different this year and find a bad Hannukah movie, but everybody I asked had the same recommendation: Adam Sandler’s Eight Crazy Nights. I know for a fact that is a prohibitively awful film, because I know people who’ve watched parts of it (I have not to date met anyone who could sit through the whole thing), but it just doesn’t feel like an MST3K feature to me. Anyway, I have standards. My conclusion is that people need to make more Hannukah movies… and until that happens, I’m watching Magic Christmas Tree, which comes specially recommended by RiffTrax.

This is the only Christmas movie I’ve ever seen which starts with cheerful holiday music over footage of… Hallowe’en decorations. Obnoxious bully Mark and his two pushover friends decide to go investigate a supposedly-haunted house. Naturally the old lady who lives there is a witch, and in exchange for Mark rescuing her cat, she gives him a seed for a magical tree that will grant him three wishes. Two months later, with the tree fully grown, his first wish is to have magical powers for one hour – he uses them to torment unfortunate people who were already having to work on Christmas Eve. His second wish is to kidnap Santa Claus and extort unlimited presents from him, but that attracts the attention of the spirit of Greed, who intends to keep Mark as a slave forever! Good thing he’s still got that third wish.

God, I hate this movie. I’d say it’s the worst Christmas movie I’ve ever seen, but Elves exists, so instead I have to say it’s the worst Christmas movie that didn’t have any Nazis in it. It reminds me more than anything else of Ghost of Dragstrip Hollow, in that it’s an absolute mess that seems to have been put together by people who have no idea what they’re doing. It spends most of its time on boring, annoying irrelevant bullshit, and then when it gets to the plot, that’s boring and annoying, too!

Magic Christmas Tree is only an hour long, but that’s twice as long as it needed to be. A plot summary makes it sound like most of the film will be dealing with Mark’s three wishes and how he uses them, but it’s half-over before we even get to that point. The time leading up to it is spent watching Mark follow the witch’s complicated instructions on how to grow and activate the tree, and his parents dealing with this unwanted thing appearing in the middle of their back yard. All of this is presented in excruciating detail. We watch Mark dig the entire hole to plant the seed in. We see his Dad struggle with the lawnmower at unbelievable length, while the Mom yacks about nothing on the phone with her friend Betty. The Dad tries to cut the tree down with no success. Mark has to say a set of magic words over and over and over.

It goes on so long, it passes the are you fucking kidding me? point and wanders into territory where you wonder if there’s something wrong with the disk and you’re playing the scene over and over. It actually starts to feel like it’s on purpose – especially when the slowness is repeatedly emphasized by shots of Mark’s pet tortoise, Ichabod, who seems to be eating his patch of clover far faster than anybody else is accomplishing anything. You’ll swear the movie is making fun of you.

The sound that accompanies all this is sometimes very peculiar. The old lady has exactly the voice you’d expect from a witch in a cheap kid’s movie, but Mark’s Mom sounds like she’s being dubbed by a twelve-year-old boy, possibly the same one who provided the voice for Mark himself. The tree speaks (oh, yes, it does) in the voice of a smarmy stereotypical gay man. Santa Claus sounds like he’s half-senile and wondering what’s for lunch.

The lawnmower makes some very strange noises indeed. I guess they’re meant to be cartoonish and funny. They’re definitely the former but they’re never the latter, possibly because they never sound remotely like a lawnmower. When Mark’s Dad is trying to get it started it sounds like the ghost of a consumptive horse, and three hours later when it actually gets going, it makes noises like a traffic jam in Whoville.

Besides sounding weird, the actors are just plain bad. The guy playing Santa Claus is half-asleep. We’re told that the tree’s magic means he’s trapped in the chair he’s sitting in, and I honestly do believe that actor could not have gotten up if he tried, no wishes necessary. The woman playing Mark’s Mom looks like she’s high as a kite and only barely keeping her grip on reality. Maybe that’s why they had to dub her. Mark’s Dad recites his lines like a guy on a game show reading his own life story off a teleprompter, and does his yard chores in a way that’s probably supposed to be pantomimey but is the opposite of entertaining. The Dad gets an inordinate amount of screen time, which I can only chalk up to the fact that he’s played by director Dick Parish.

The worst of the lot are, of course, the kids, who are predictably terrible 60’s child actors. They yell all their lines, with the volume and exaggerated emphasis you expect from a school play. It wears thin very, very quickly. The kid playing Mark is the worst of the lot, although I might just think that because he’s the one we spend the most time with. He’s a huge part of why this movie makes me so mad.

I think the best way to describe Mark as a character is to say that the first time I watched this movie I assumed his name was ‘Billy’, despite the fact that everybody kept calling him ‘Mark’. He just seems like the type of nasty little brat who’d be named ‘Billy’ in a bad 60’s Christmas movie. We meet him having lunch with his two friends by the playground, and learn that he’s a greedy little shit when he drives a hard bargain in a sandwich trade. Greedy-little-shit-itude continues to be his primary character trait and is, of course, the core of the movie’s lesson. His attempt to monopolize Santa Claus makes him such a greedy little shit that Greed himself takes an interest in him.

Greed is a huge hairy man who takes delight in kidnapping little boys. I think he’s supposed to look like a fairy tale giant. Watching him manhandle a child is an intensely uncomfortable experience.

I guess ‘don’t be greedy’ is a standard message for a children’s movie, and it seems like a particularly appropriate one for Christmas, which presents children with a great opportunity for avarice. What seems a little odd is that Mark never actually suffers any consequences for his selfishness, only the vague threat of them. There was a perfect opportunity for some of this when Mark kidnaps Santa Claus. Santa, after all, brings toys to good girls and boys… surely by this point, after his brief reign of terror with his magical powers, Mark has been naughty enough to deserve only coal. Apparently that’s not how it works, though. Mark just wanders off into the woods in search of small animals to shoot with his new rifle, runs into the giant, and immediately repents even though Greed is offering him all the toys and candy he wants.

What supposedly prompts Mark to become a better person is seeing how the world has responded to Santa Claus going missing. Curiously, there is very little emphasis on the children who are sad because they didn’t get any presents. Maybe somebody thought that would have made them seem greedy? Instead, the vision Greed presents to Mark is of the United States military mobilizing to locate Santa and bring him home, Santa Claus Conquers the Martians-style! So… I guess Mark becomes a better person because he’s afraid of what’s going to happen if the army finds Santa trapped in a chair in his house? I guess that is pretty terrifying.

Another thing that blunts the lesson is the fact that Mark is given his three wishes as a reward for a good deed. He got the witch’s cat down from the tree, so she offers him the magical seed and doesn’t let him refuse. What then was he supposed to use his three wishes for, if not to get stuff for himself? Was this intentionally a poisoned gift, because you shouldn’t accept things from witches? The witch insists that there are good witches as well as wicked ones, but she’s not exactly an unbiased source. The movie never tries to blame her, though. The situation is presented as Mark’s fault, and Mark’s alone.

Finally, at the end Mark wakes up and finds that of course the whole thing was a dream – there was no witch, no magic tree, and no Santa Claus. This is less annoying than it could have been because at least it’s not a surprise. Mark did hit his head when he fell out of the tree the cat was in, and the movie changed from black and white to colour. We’ve seen this before in The Wizard of Oz and we can guess where it’s going. The audience might assume that Mark will wake up and immediately take the opportunity to be generous instead of greedy, perhaps by giving his friend something to make up for the lunch trade. Instead, the woman who owns the cat (who is not actually a witch, but looks even more like one in this part of the film than she does wearing the Hallowe’en witch costume in Mark’s dream) offers him milk and cookies, and he delightedly accepts. This just gives the impression that he’s learned nothing.

Is there anything in this movie I didn’t hate? Well… among Mark’s school friends is a token black kid, who is not differentiated in any way from his peers. He talks like them, he dresses like them, and the writers did not use either his lunch or his Hallowe’en plans as a way to demarcate a class difference between him and the others. So yeah, the movie sucks, but the writers tried really hard not to be racist.

Happy fucking holidays. I want to say hooray for surviving 2020, but we’ve still got a week to go. That’s plenty of time for oh, I don’t know, an alien invasion, or a giant meteor, or the Yellowstone supervolcano, or zombies, or whatever. At this point, if most of us aren’t dead by this time next year, I’ll count that as a win.

#mst3k #reviews #episodes that never were #magic christmas tree #fuck this movie #holiday reviews #60s

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phantomphangphucker · 4 years ago

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Ectober Day 15: Trapped - Adulting: But Ghostly

Screwing up in the Fenton Lab was a pretty normal regular thing, but screwing up in such a way to botch someone’s age and humanness without actually changing said we and humanness was a weird one. This is totally definitely Tucker’s fault. Danny caused it, but it’s still Tucker’s fault.

Tucker chuckles at his two friends, “honestly, helping clean up the lab is a weak ass punishment”, shrugging, “all things considered”.

Danny glances at him while pointedly picking up some very sticky and slightly mouldy, touching it with as few fingers as possible, “you sure about that one?”.

Tucker waves him off, “only makes sense for you to clean up the nasty shit. Unlike us, that won’t get you sick”. Danny flips him off while dropping the soggy piece in the garbage bag. Sam just smirks.

Not even five minutes later Tucker knocks some spray-can thing onto the ground, which in typical fashion explodes. Danny eyes the pink mist and sighs, “whelp, now there’s more mess, thanks Tu-”, cutting himself off at feeling a slight tingling across his skin. Turning to glare at Tucker, “oh fuck you”.

Relenting in said glaring at noticing that Tucker and Sam are both glowing now, glancing to his arm and groaning over the matching glow.... Great, just great. Quirking an eyebrow over watching the skin on his arm slowly stain a pale blue and increase in muscle mass? Looking up to his friends and gapping slightly. Jet black skin patching over Tucker’s face and pale green on Sam’s.

Tucker sounds slightly in awe but also worried as he flips over his clawed hand a few times, “okay, might have fucked up a little”, and blinking at the echo to his voice.

Sam grabs at her hair, seemingly made of vines now and with purple flowers popping open, “ya think?”.

Then both of them turning to Danny and grimacing, while he’s having a slight crises at definitely recognising the feel of ecto-flames where there should be hair. Immediately moving to check his pulse, the other two quickly following suit with wide eyes. Sam snapping, “if we just got offed, I’m gonna be pissed”.

Danny’s the first to sigh in relief, being the only one who very frequently checked his pulse normally. He could do without being any more dead, thank you very much.

Tucker snorts, “awesome, so I didn’t just accidentally kill us”.

Danny points at him, “meaning the labs death toll is still only half”, pausing, noting the deep baritone, and touching his throat, “woah”. Then grabbing his much larger than normal hands around his forearm with a quirked eyebrow. Looking up to his friends who are effectively copying him. Both a bit taller and more muscular. Both had longer hair too, though Tucker’s was barely past his ears and dreaded with gold caps on the ends, while Sam’s was nearly past her waist and looked like long vines of purple asters. Their faces were kinda different too and Tucker even had facial hair. They looked... like adults? adult ghosts at that, minus still being in their regular clothing anyways; which definitely didn’t fit super well anymore. Moving his arm a little and actually cringing slightly over the strain his shirt was under; okay, it’s good he wore baggy clothing or he would have ruined his clothing entirely. He might ruin them as it is.

Sam pointing to him, “you sound like Dan”.

Danny shrugs a bit awkwardly, “sound different to myself”. And thank the Ancients for that. He could do without hearing Dan’s voice every time he opened his mouth. Does feel slightly bad for his friends though.

All three make their way over to the back wall mirror and poke at their faces. Blinking eyes and baring fangs. Tucker chuckles, “I have fucking facial hair”, and starts hopping around on his feet, “and what am I? Like six feet tall?”.

Sam and Danny roll their eyes. Danny crossing his arms and looking down at Tucker. Who pauses just to shove Danny, “hey, we all already knew you were going to be a tall bastard”, then going wide-eyed, “dude holy shit! That stuff turned us into adults! Awesome!”.

Sam points at him, “and ghosts”, pulling at the corner of her eyelid, “though yes, green eyes are pretty wicked”.

Danny points at her, “and your skin’s such a pale green than your eyes don’t blend in”. Sam just smirks at that. Tucker pats him on the back though, “well at least yours aren’t red”.

“Amen to that”.

Sam shakes her head a little, putting her hands on her hips, “okay, as cool as this is -though it is kinda curious we’re not displaying powers- I think we should, I don’t know, fix this?”. Danny rubs his neck while nodding and Tucker snatched back up the can before flopping into a chair, “I got this. Hold your ecto-knickers”. Trying to lean his head back only for the headrest to not be up high enough, muttering, “man that’s weird”, as he readjusts it.

Forty minutes later finds Tucker groaning, “okay, I officially really screwed up. Completely screwed the pooch”. Earning loud groans from his two friends.

Sam pushes herself up, “alright, Mr. Bad Luck, the fuck’d you do?”.

Tucker sticks out his hands, smashing one on a table, “ts not what I did! It’s what the Fenton’s didn’t do! Also, ow”.

Danny and Sam sighing, “let me guess, no reverse option and they didn’t write the formula down?”.

Tucker snaps his fingers at them, “bingo. Man, it’s like you’re psychic”.

Danny rolls his eyes, “more like my parents are just predictable... and kinda incompetent”. Everyone cringing a little over that.

Sam rubs her eyes, “alright, so now what are we going to do? We can’t go anywhere like this and we-all-know-who will shoot us the second they get home”.

Danny taps his chin, “well, I’m not in my jumpsuit so I don’t look blatantly like Phantom so I think I’m in the clear for that. And we have planned for a situation where I couldn’t change back human. So I’ve already got makeup, wig and contacts. But Wig and contacts only work for me and I’m definitely not your guy’s colour”.

Tucker snorts, “you don’t say you pasty-ass fuck”. Sam rolls her eyes, “excuse you?”.

“You’re pale, he’s pasty”.

Sam nods curtly with a smug grin. Danny just chuckles.

Tucker claps the chairs armrests, “whelp we should probably at least get you looking human, before we run out of luck or something”. Sam grumbling, “you’re gonna jinx us”. Which Tucker, of course, waves her off as they all get up.

However when they walk into the living room just as the front door opens, Sam and Danny glare at Tucker who laughs awkwardly, “oops?”. All three snapping their heads towards the pair of hunters as said hunters immediately, and predictably, draw ecto-weapons, “hold it right there spooks!”.

Danny holds his hands out, “wait! Wait! We’re not ghosts!”.

His mom doesn’t let him continue, “can it, we know what ghosts look like”. His dad nodding, “you might be able to trick some regular joes but not the Fenton’s”.

Sam mutters, “wow this is awkward”. Tucker just nods slightly at her while gulping.

Danny makes pacifying motions, “but wouldn’t we be floating and stuff if we were newly formed ghosts. We’re not even glowing properly”, it was true, their glows were so small they practically weren’t glowing at all, “so could you put the weapons down, mom, dad”, putting his hands down and shrugging loosely very intentionally, “I’d really rather not get gooped”.

His parents actually look to be considering this, not dropping their weapons though. Figures. His mom readjusting her grip as she goes to dig in her pocket. Producing a chunk of ectoranium seconds later, “well if that’s the case and you’re not ghosts then you shouldn’t have a reaction to this”, and moves to poke Tucker’s arm with the tip, gun staying trained on them all the while. Everyone watching as absolutely nothing happens.

Tucker grins almost apologetically while Danny speaks, “see?”.

Both his parents look puzzled at the ectoranium and Tucker’s arm before Maddie blinks and looks at each of them, her eyes widening, “Danny? Tucker? Sam?”. Which the three of them nod rapidly at. Thankfully their moods do a complete one-eighty at that.

Jack practically bounding over to Danny and actually having to look up at him slightly, laughing and patting his head, “ha! I knew someone was going to get my Fenton genes!”, and pats him on both shoulders like he was measuring how wide he was. Maddie smiles sweetly at him before giving the group of teens who don’t look like teens a puzzled look again, “what I don’t get is, how’d this happen?”.

Danny and Sam immediately pointing at Tucker, but wind up smacking him in the face. Danny chuckling, “shit sorry man, ain’t used to the arm length”. Tucker predictably waves both of them off, though rubbing his cheek from Danny’s hit because well, getting effectively smacked by someone with super-strength and hands that look like pure muscle hurts.

Sam rolls her eyes and explains to Maddie, “that idiot knocked over a spray can looking thing that sprayed pink mist everywhere”.

“Hey, at least I didn’t do it intentionally”. Everyone ignores that.

Maddie taps her chin, “I don’t understand. It shouldn’t have been able to do this without something ectoplasmic around”. While Jack is off in his own world wrapping his fingers around Danny’s biceps.

Danny chuckles at his excitable dad before looking to his mom, “mom. My contamination?”.

That gets both his parents attention, them blinking and going wide-eyed, “oh”.

Sam huffs and crosses her arms, “and really, you’d think you guys wouldn’t have teens, especially Danny, cleaning up down there if you even think you have stuff that can go off like this. It’s irresponsible”. Tucker chuckles, “I’m just glad we only look like ghosts“. Everyone, especially Danny’s parents, nod rapidly at that.

Tucker nodding his head at the lab doors, “I tried to find a reverse or the formula and back engineer it, but you guys forgot to do that... again”. Making both parents cringe a little, Jack rubbing his neck awkwardly.

Danny nods at Tucker before looking back to his folks, “so on that note, do you think you could fix this? Because you didn’t recognise us and I don’t think that Red will pause long enough to hear us out”. Sam scowls and rolls her eyes over that. Danny adding on, “something to at least get us looking human again. We can probably handle the adult-looking thing”.

Tucker chuckles and strokes his facial hair, “it is pretty neat”, smirking at his friends, “I bet the ladies will dig a guy with facial hair”, glancing to Danny’s face, “that isn’t on fire”. Both Sam and Danny predictably hit him.

“No trying to pick up older women, you pervert”.

“Hey, you can barely tell it’s flaming and you’re still you so don’t count on that”.

Tucker pouts at both of them, “why do you have to be so mean”, but obviously doesn’t mean it.

Maddie and Jack smile at the threes antics, if they hadn’t already been sure they would be now. Maddie smiles sweetly at Tucker, “you’re a minor. So please don’t do that”, shaking her head at him waving her off though knowing he probably won’t actually chase after an older woman. Looking to the three of them, “how about we get you three back down to the lab and see what we can do? Alright?”. The three look to each other, exchange shrugs, and following the pair of hunters down to the lab. Jack immediately bounding off and picking up the can.

None of the trio are really surprised that Maddie gets them to sit down and starts examining them, leaving the can to Jack. Her putting a stick in Danny’s mouth and blinking at the forked tongue, “well sweetie, you make for one very intimidating ghost”. Her continuing when the trio all cringe, “technically that’s a good thing. Ghosts are supposed to be scary, you wouldn’t want to be like the Box Ghost now would you?”, all three cringe way more over that, so Maddie gives a satisfied curt nod. While Danny starts fiddling with his tongue.

Maddie pokes at Sam’s flowers, “can you feel this?”.

“Yeah”, putting a little bite in her words, which sounds more than a little threatening with the echo, “so maybe don’t go ripping them off”. Maddie nods while Tucker chuckles, “man the echo sure changes the way we sound. I doubt you meant for that to sound like a threat”. Sam just huffs at that, making Danny and Tucker chuckle at her expense. Maddie, however, smiles slightly, relieved that she hadn’t actually been being threatened; it could always be hard to tell with Sam.

Maddie stares at and inspects Tucker’s skin quizzically, “we’ve never even seen a ghost with pure black skin before. Wonder why”. Everyone shrugs at that, except Jack who’s off in his own world tinkering away. Tucker snickers and elbows Danny, “well we’ve all seen ones with blue, isn’t that right”.

“Do you want me to punt you through a wall? I’m pretty sure I could very easily”, Danny flexes slightly for emphasis but facepalms at ripping sounds, “damnit”. Everyone else snorts and starts laughing at him.

Jack makes a hum that sounds more unhappy than anyone wants to hear, him grabbing Maddie’s arm to drag her over without even looking at her. The trio exchanging glances, all three muttering, “fuck”. Maddie turning around and looking a bit apologetic, “well, it seems that Danny’s contamination sort of... messed with things a little”. The trio groan. “Or rather, bonded with it. Even now the ecto that he sheds off is feeding into the chemical that’s in your systems. If you stayed away from him for at least a week you’d go back to normal on your own. But there doesn’t seem any way for us to artificially force this to revert”, sending Danny a very sympathetic look, “and I can’t see any way to fix this for you sweetie, sorry”.

Danny leans back and groans, before giving his friends awkward looks and rubbing his neck. They don’t even let him get a chance to say anything before Sam snaps, “not happening then”. Tucker nodding and smiling, “yeah, we’re not avoiding Danny-dude. And we’re especially not leaving him to put up with this by himself”. Maddie can’t help but smile at them, “you guys are probably the closest friends possible”. Which all three beams over, even if Danny still looks pretty apologetic.

Everyone turning their heads at Jack shouting, “ah-ha!”, and spinning around in his chair, “alright, so we totally can make another spay that could hide all this ghost-looking stuff!”, muttering at the floor, “won’t fix the aged up thing”, looking back to them, “but! It’ll get you looking human! All of you”. Earning grins all around.

Maddie looking back to the trio, “we’ll work on that, you three go upstairs and play games or eat. I don’t think any of us want you down here in case the prototype malfunctions”. Which all three laugh at.

“Yeah wouldn’t want to make this worse!”.

“Besides, Danny needs to change”.

“Hey. But yeah”.

Maddie shakes her head at the three as they head upstairs.

Danny flops down on his bed, having changed into a very stretchy sweater and sweats, “so I guess we’re stuck like this huh?”.

Sam giving a very apathetic, “yup”, as she flops down in her beanie, before wincing and sitting up, pulling her hair out of the way. Grumbling, “this is why I keep my hair short”. Tucker shakes his head around, making the dreads and metal on them smack his face, “I don’t know, it’s kinda fun”.

“Grow it to ass length and see how you feel then”.

“Naw, I’m a guy so”.

“Are you saying only girls can have long hair!”.

Danny snickers over what sounds like a mild slapping match. They’d be fine. School though, ho boy that was going to be a fucking trip. There was literally no way in all the infinite lands of the Ghost Realm that people wouldn’t freak over them looking like adults. Zone, he could see people asking to get sprayed too. Because honestly? Who wouldn’t want to automatically know how they’d look when they’re older. Danny gets that it’s a little less novel for him due to the whole Dan thing, but still. Adding in the ghost thing. Tilting his head, though it was kinda funny Sam wound up with flowers in her hair and wait... wasn’t the area around Tuck’s eyes a bit darker? Glancing at his friends and squinting, yeah Tuck looked like he kinda had makeup... on... wait a second. “Guys”, pointing at the two of them, “Pharaoh. Undergrowth”.

They both blink at him before Sam grabs at her hair and shoved a pocket mirror at Tucker to poke at his eyes. Tucker blinks and hands back over the mirror, “huh, well let’s not point this out to your folks. Like seriously dude”. Sam nods and frowns, “you don’t think this’ll give Undergrowth some control over me?”, looking between the two boys, “and should we really be surprised? We already knew the stuff that happened those times wasn’t really something that just goes away. Undergrowth adopted me”, pointing at Tucker, “and your soul is still T. Duulaman’s, sceptre or no”.

Danny hums and taps his chin, “I don’t think we have to worry about being controlled. We’re not actually ghosts. We just look like them. But fair point. And not like we can really do anything about it”. The two sighing, “yeah”. Danny points at them again, “but if this does start negatively affecting you guys, like our kind of negative, then you guys are staying away from me to get this to wear off. I’ll go hide at the ClockTower Citadel if I have too”. They both roll their eyes at his typical overprotective antics but they do nod.

Tucker points at him and leans forward, “honestly, you should visit ClockWork over this, I’m not sure if this ‘aged up’ thing would count as messing with time. Especially for other people to see”. Danny hums and nods at that. Sam nods herself and gets up to flop on the bed next to him, “and maybe ask them how to fix you. Because you being stuck ghost-looking in both forms screams bad news”.

Tucker joins them on Danny’s other side as Danny replies, “yeah. As it is when I’m an adult ghost my parents are so definitely going to put the pieces together now”. Both them snort at that, pointing out that that was ridiculously obvious. Tucker smacking him, “first, you need a bigger bed. Second, it’s not like you intended to keep this from them after Highschool anyway”.

Danny snorts, “true, on both accounts”.

It surprisingly doesn’t take long for Danny’s folks to barge into the room. Jack presenting a little perfume-looking bottle dramatically, “it’s done! And was surprisingly easy!”.

The trio blink, Sam muttering, “huh, that never happens for us”. Making them chuckle a little as they go about getting up. Danny asking, because he has to ask, “and it’s good for me? You checked it against my stuff?”.

Maddie nods at him reassuringly right off the bat, “no worries sweetie, that’s the first thing we did”. Which he grins over as the three stand to let themselves get a good spray down. Everyone watching in fascination as their skin starts patching back to their normal human skin tones. Jack actually whispering, “that looks so cool”, and Maddie patting him on the arm.

The first thing Danny does is pat his hair, sighing over it no longer being fire. “Awesome”, and puts his hand to his throat, “huh”.

Tucker blinks at him, “you know, without the echo you actually sound kinda sexy”. Everyone looks at Tucker with disbelief; Sam smacking him over the head. Everyone starts laughing after a bit though.

Danny giving his mom a hug, which is weird with her being so much smaller than him, “thanks mom”. She leans up to ruffle his hair, looking slightly apologetic, “of course, Danny. And we’ll try to keep the volatile stuff put away from now on”. Sam and Tucker snicker knowing that won’t even last a week. Never did. Danny just laughs, “appreciated”, even if he also knew it wouldn’t last.

Jack laughs, hands on his hips, “well you kids’ make for pretty fine looking adults!”. The three all grinning at him. But that gets Maddie to tilt her head and squint at Danny. Him quirking a sharp eyebrow at her before she leans forward and sticks her fingers in his mouth, “uhhhhh”.

Jack and Maddie both blink at him, though Sam and Tucker bend over laughing. Maddie speaking up, “you have fangs still”. Danny leans back to get her fingers out of his mouth, “ah well, my contamination was bound to affect me, right?”, and rubs his tongue over his teeth. At least his tongue wasn’t still forked. That was something.

Tucker leans over and flicks his ear, “ears are pointy too”, and snickers. Danny batting away his hand.

Maddie frowns a little but nods, “yes, I guess that would make sense. Can’t say I like it though”. Jack waves her off, “oh it looks manly on him! And people intentionally get their teeth and ears pointed sometimes! Right Sam?”. Sam nods but is frankly surprised he’s waving this off. Honestly, so is Danny.

Maddie purses her lips but nods, “you do have a point”, looking to Danny, “well I guess you better get used to it. You’re stuck with it”.

Danny shrugs, “eh I’m not complaining. Didn’t even notice”, baring his teeth, “are they that noticeable though?”. Sam rolls her eyes, “yes”. While Tucker snorts, “Vlad would be jealous”.

Jack tilts his head, “Vladdie has fangs?”. All three blink at him in disbelief and speak in unison, “you didn’t notice?”. Jack shakes his head and shrugs, while Maddie taps her chin, “now that I think about it, yeah I’ve noticed. But it’s been so long that I don’t think I really notice any more”.

Sam mutters, “that tracks”, to herself. Danny rubs his neck, “ah well hopefully you’ll get used to mine then too I guess”, he seriously can’t believe his dad’s never noticed though. Vlad flashed them threateningly all the time. Or maybe Danny was just more likely to notice thanks to heightened vision and ghost instincts.

Maddie hums, “well anyway, you kids should get some rest before school tomorrow. I don’t doubt that will be a bit hectic”.

All three giving matching deadpanned, “obviously”’s. As the couple turn to leave, not without Jack patting Danny’s head excitedly though.

The three stare at the door for a beat. Tucker clapping Danny on the back, “I think your dad likes the height”. Sam rolling her eyes as she moves back to the bed, “only because someone’s finally taller than him”.

Danny shrugs as him and Tucker move to join her, “eh, can’t say I blame him. It’s just like how being around ghosts that are actually stronger than me makes me feel less overpowered”, squinting at them, “and no, I don’t just mean ClockWork”, which earns laughs from the two.

Sam sighs into the blankets, “you know, when you’re an adult, an actual adult ghost, ClockWork probably will be the only one”. Danny grumbles, “don't remind me”. Which she snorts at.

Tucker rolls over and watches the ceiling a little, “at least being stuck as adults will really only be weird for a few years”, fiddling with his hair a little bit, “think I should keep the dreads?”.

Danny just grunts while Sam actually answers the boy, “they suit you. Keep ‘em. Why do you think I went and gave you fake ones when you tried the whole goth thing”. Now it’s Tucker’s turn to groan, “now don’t remind me”. Making them all laugh.

“Hey, nothing could compare to Sam’s pink get-up when I un-half-died”. Sam hits Danny for that one. Sam smacking Tucker for good measure, “you’re never going to live down hitting on me”.

“More like never going to not wish you hadn’t said yes before I realised you were you”. Sam shoves him off the bed with a scowl for that one.

Danny mumbles, “sleep sleep time”, and sticks his arm over the bed to physically drag Tucker back up, “come here pillow”, and wraps his arms around both of them tightly.

Tucker chuckles, “your hands are fucking huge now. Seeing that coming for my face was mildly horrifying”. Danny just grumbles incoherently into the bed. Sam sighs, “you’re not going to let us up, are you?”.

Danny grins into the bed, “nope. You’re trapped now”. Earning fond sighs from the two as they settle in to sleep.

#ectober #ectober2020 #ectober 2020 #danny phantom #phandom #aged up #but not in the way you think #adult ghost selves #science weirdness #crack treated seriously #fan fic #phan phic #my writing #have a fic suck my dick #phantomphangphucker

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