#anyways that crazy day ended with a crazy conversation about the current state of the people in my craft

[exsqueezememacaroni]

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[toournextadventure]

our little secret iii

Summary: All four of you lost the bet, and now it's time to pay up. Thankfully, Maxine and Bobby-Lynn know just how to make sure Lorraine has to pay up too.

Word Count: 8.9k Warnings: swearing, smut 18+, religious talk (typical of southern states), religious trauma, period-typical homophobia Pairing: Lorraine Day x Fem!Reader (Masterlist)

“This ain’t sittin’ right with me,” you whispered to Beau as you tried, once again, to get comfortable in the back of RJ’s van.

Despite your best attempts, you, Beau, and Huck were currently sitting with Lorraine’s crew on the way to a location. It had been agreed by everyone - except you, obviously - that you had all lost the bet, so you should all have to own up. Although you still found it profoundly unfair that Lorraine somehow got out unscathed from the entire thing that she had agreed to.

And now you were stuck in the back of a hot, sweaty van with a bunch of hot, sweaty people that were one camera away from having relations for pay.

“We all lost, we all pay up,” Beau whispered back even as he smiled at Maxine. You rolled your eyes; he was such a suck up.

“Lorraine ain’t gotta pay up,” you grumbled, but settled back in your spot anyway.

Admittedly, you were being rather rude. You had barely said hello to any of them, and you hadn’t talked to them since the trip had started. It wasn’t their fault though, it was entirely on you. You just… didn’t know what to say to them. This wasn’t your world, and it was completely overwhelming. You didn’t care what any of them did for a living, but you hadn’t expected to be a part of it.

And if Jackson didn’t quit staring at you, you were going to lose your mind.

“You look awful familiar,” Jackson said with the slightest tilt of his head. He never stopped rubbing Bobby-Lynn’s thighs.

“Ever been a few hours south of Houston?” You asked, shifting in your spot to bring your knees up to your chest.

“Don’t believe I have,” he said with a shrug.

“Must just be a resemblance, then,” you answered.

“Leave her be,” Bobby-Lynn said as she playfully smacked Jackson’s chest. “Can’t you see you’re making her uncomfortable?”

“Do we make you uncomfortable, sweetheart?” Jackson asked.

Oh. Oh, yeah, that was very uncomfortable.

“You were in ‘Nam, right?” Beau asked, thankfully pulling the attention away from you. You supposed he was good for something.

“Yes sir,” Jackson said with a smile, pulling his dog tags out from under his shirt. “Two tours.”

“North or South?” Beau continued. Okay, maybe you didn’t want to hear so much about this anymore.

“South.”

“Y/N’s brother was in South Vietnam,” Huck chimed in. “Maybe that’s where you recognise her.”

Oh, you wanted them both to shut up. You wanted them both to hush right that instant. You looked up and instantly met Lorraine’s eyes from across the van. She was still sitting beside RJ, going over the script and whatever else she usually did. But there was the smallest tug at the corner of her mouth when she looked at you.

I hate you, you mouthed, to which her smile grew before she went back to the script.

“What’s your brother’s name, sweetheart?” Jackson asked, pulling you back into the conversation that you desperately wished would end.

Although you liked the adorable little frown Lorraine sent Jackson’s way at the use of the little nickname. Maybe you were okay with talking with Jackson. If it could get Lorraine’s feathers ruffled, then it was worth it. It was about time the tables were turned.

“Roy,” you said. “Roy Y/L/N.”

“No shit,” Jackson said. “I served with that son of a bitch.”

“Seriously?” You pulled your knees up to your chest and leaned forward. “Which tour?”

“My first,” he said with a smile.

You smiled back. “So you knew him before he…” your voice trailed off into nothing as your eyes slowly lowered to the floor of the van and your smile fell.

Before he went crazy. But you couldn’t say that out loud, could you? Your daddy had done his best to make sure you all knew not to mention Roy’s “affliction.” A test from God, he had called it. He used it as nothing more than a piss poor excuse to remind everyone that that’s what happens when you fall from faith. What would he say about you?

You just kept your mouth shut and rested your chin on your knees.

“He caught the combat trauma,” Huck said in a far softer tone than Beau ever could have managed.

“Now that’s a shame,” Jackson said with a shake of his head.

“Heard it happens more than you think,” Maxine called out from the front seat. It was probably the first thing you had heard from her since… Well, it was the first thing you had heard. “They all come home different.”

Oh, you weren’t so sure you liked this.

“You can’t come back different,” Bobby-Lynn said with a humourless chuckle. “Besides, it ain’t even real, is it?”

“They said it is,” Maxine continued, finally turning around to face everyone. “Put it in their little book last year, called it PTSD or somethin’ like that.”

You didn’t like this topic at all. The hair on the back of your neck stood up and your grip around your knees tightened. They didn’t get to talk about this like it was nothing of impact to you. Hadn’t they just heard Huck say Roy had this… this combat trauma? And they were going to act like nothing was wrong?

Everyone around you continued to talk about this new PTSD thing that was starting to make its rounds. It felt like someone was watching you. Without lifting your head, you looked up and were instantly met with Lorraine staring at you with that look that she had never grown out of. A look that she gave you every time you would be forced to talk about Beau as if he were the love of your life. A look of pity. 

And you hated pity.

“Hey,” Jackson said, a little softer than everyone else’s ongoing conversation. He nudged your foot with his to get you to look over. “If you want me to talk to him, man to man, just let me know.”

His smile was more genuine than you had seen from a stranger in a long time. But there was no comfort in it because his offer was empty. You had no doubt he was being genuine, but how were you going to invite him over and have him talk to Roy without Daddy figuring out? The times were changing, but Jackson was a… certain type of man that you knew Daddy would never happily allow in his home. You and Roy were already scourges upon his land - though he still didn’t know your secret - so how could you possibly invite Jackson over with a clear conscience?

“Thank you,” you said instead, your smile far more convincing than your own thoughts.

The rest of the trip was, by all accounts, uneventful. That blasphemous talk of trauma and war had changed when Lorraine decided it was time to talk about the script. And even as she and RJ went over everything with their stars, and you were faced with the reality that you were truly, painfully alone, you still felt some sort of peace.

You would almost go so far as to say you felt comfortable.

Until you got to the shooting location.

“Are you serious?” You whisper-yelled at Lorraine when you both got out of the van. “You should have told me.”

“Would you have come?” She shot back, quickly shooting a fake smile to Beau and Huck when they passed. “Besides, we’re usin’ the building beside it.”

“You’re full of shit,” you mumbled as you looked up at the steeple of the small chapel.

By all accounts, it was a splendid little church. With a single steeple at the front of the roof and an elevated cross in the back, it almost reminded you of the one at home. Double doors that doubtlessly opened into a small worship room that held eight pews at most before ascending into the podium. A setup not unlike your own church back home, except this one didn’t house the guilt you couldn’t shed.

Beside the church was the parsonage, looking just as you knew them to look. Small, a little run down, painted a white that felt forced upon the environment. The paint was chipped and the window shutters were slightly askew, but it seemed to fit the rather bleak landscape behind it. Not ugly, but not exactly pretty either.

“Whatcha think?” Wayne asked. You jumped, but quickly regained composure. “Ain’t she pretty?”

“It looks cozy,” you said with a shrug. “You’re filmin’ in the parsonage, right? Not the church?”

Wayne laughed. A big hearty laugh that reminded you of all the sweet older men out at the rodeos. The ones that told you you were being ridiculous, but they were going to do their best not to openly tell you. It was a joyous laugh that was both humiliating and comforting simultaneously.

“I nearly forgot Church Mouse said you were a preacher,” he said once his laughter had subsided enough for him to talk.

“Church Mouse?” You asked.

“We’re usin’ the parsonage,” he continued, practically ignoring your question. “We’re not intendin’ to disrespect you.”

He clapped you on the shoulder and cocked his hip. You could see why Lorraine liked him. Overconfident, cocky as hell, but his smile always seemed genuine. Somehow, some way, he had seemed to be in a good mood the entire trip and even now. Optimism at its finest. You wished you could match it.

“Although I do have a favour to ask you,” Wayne said, his voice carrying a lilt that had your stomach churning.

“Yes?” You asked even though you weren’t entirely sure you wanted to know.

“Think you can pray over this little set of ours?” He asked. “Help us break this bad streak we got goin’ on?”

“Oh,” you said with a huff, followed by a nervous chuckle. “Oh, I can do that then.”

Wayne smiled with his teeth and tipped his hat. “Thank ya kindly.”

You kept your eyes trained on the doors of the chapel while Wayne walked away, presumably to help set up whatever it was he was needing to set up. You could pray over the set. It was a little blasphemous to use prayer for something so… risque, but you weren’t a prude. After all, Daddy had always said everyone could use a little prayer.

The handle on the door was a beautiful polished silver; spare no expense for a house of God, of course. Hypocrites, the lot of them. But it was nice to open the doors without even the slightest resistance. Nothing was more terrifying than a run down church with creaky doors. It was like walking into a horror movie.

Your boots echoed off the empty wooden walls of the chapel as you walked down the center aisle, taking in everything about the building. It was a rather beautiful church, you wouldn’t try to deny it. A single, small stained glass window hung above the podium. It would cast a beautiful coloured light where the preacher would be standing on Sunday mornings.

There were three steps up to the podium before you stood behind the lectern and looked out onto the ghostly congregation. Not a single soul was inside the building, but from your spot above the room, you could feel the eyes on you. Momma, Roy, Jimmy. Granma and Granpa were in the back, followed by friends, family, everyone in the congregation that knew you excruciatingly well.

Then there was Daddy, sitting in the aisle of the front pew, watching you with that judgmental look. The one that he gave when he was condemning someone to hell for their sins. And he was looking at you, like he could see through your physical form, all the way to the filthy soul you hid underneath it all.

“You can’t wash away sin,” Daddy said.

You couldn’t breathe.

“I don’t-”

“-There you are.”

The entire congregation disappeared as soon as you saw Lorraine standing in the doorway. Light from the setting sun illuminated her outline, almost a perfect copy of the angel painted above the doorway. And she was. She was an angel, one that you would worship even as you were cast into the pits of hell.

“Thought we lost you,” Lorraine said as she walked down the aisle with far more confidence than she had at home.

Your breath caught in your throat when she finally stepped out of the light in a startling white dress. It looked far too close to a wedding dress. It didn’t make sense, but you couldn’t quit staring. She looked so beautiful. Her smile was illuminating; it left your palms sweaty and your chest hurt-

-you gasped and pulled your hand away from the wooden lectern. The smallest splinter was stuck in your right index finger. It was easy enough to pull out, leaving behind a scarlet drop of blood that grew until dripping down your finger.

“Are you alright?”

You opened your mouth to answer, but when you looked back up Lorraine was in normal clothes. The very same ones she had worn on the trip over. The one she had never changed out of. Right. Maybe you really were crazy.

“I’m fine,” you said with a simple nod. “Just-” you sighed “-doin’ what Wayne asked.”

“Didn’t think he was a praying man,” she said with a frown. “Want some company?”

“Yeah,” you said with a soft smile. “Yeah, I do.”

As you walked down to the bottom of the three steps to meet Lorraine, the blood from your finger smeared across the finely polished wood. You left a stain on that church, same as your own. A stain that, as your Daddy constantly preached, you could never wash away.

—---

“You’re lookin’ a little green, sweetheart,” Huck whispered as he walked up to where you were standing in the back of the room.

“I’m not green,” you whispered back even as you continued to watch the scene unfold before you. “I just- I didn’t know the body could do that.”

“You’re such a preacher’s kid,” he said with a teasing lilt. Thankfully that was all he said before he crossed his arms over his chest and looked forward.

It wasn’t your first time seeing people having sex. You weren’t a complete fool, you had seen it before. Kind of. Okay, maybe it was the most tame sex in the world, but you had seen it! And you weren’t some sort of virgin either, so you weren’t totally in the dark. But you certainly hadn’t seen this before and it was… fascinating.

And a little concerning. Your head tilted. How did it even fit? Did Bobby-Lynn even genuinely find it enjoyable? Well, okay, after that noise you could believe that maybe she did. But all that other stuff, there was no way. No way at all- wait, that actually looked interesting. You wondered if Lorraine would like that.

"You're starin'," Huck whispered.

"I can't help it," you shot back. "It's like when you pass a car wreck. You can't look away."

"I think they would die if they heard you compare watchin' smut to a car wreck," he laughed. It was a little loud, you hoped the boom mic wouldn't pick it up.

"Where's your little boy toy?" You asked, hoping to take the awkward attention away from yourself. Even though you still couldn't look away from the scene. God, you hoped it was over soon.

"Your boyfriend," he said pointedly, "is downstairs talkin' with Maxine."

Oh Maxine. You had only known her for a few days, but you were starting to think she enjoyed stirring up trouble. Within moments of getting set up in the parsonage, she had made friendly with Huck and Beau. A little too friendly. You would have laughed about the whole situation if you hadn’t been attempting to act jealous to keep up the facade.

“Reckon I should go act the part of the jealous girlfriend, huh?” You asked.

“Yeah you should,” he whispered. “Though I doubt anyone will believe it with the way you’re watching your dear Rainey over there.”

You hated him for even bringing it up. So what if you had stopped watching Bobby-Lynn and instead watched Lorraine? The way she gently blew a few strands of hair out of her face while she held the boom mic as steady as you had ever seen. She wasn’t muscular by any means, but you could still see the tone in her shoulders. Or the… the little crinkle between her brows when she focused…

Okay, Huck was right, you needed to leave.

“Told you,” he said as you backed out of the room with a hellish heat in your cheeks.

As soon as the door closed behind you and the pornographic sounds muted, you could finally breathe again. Your mind was clear and you could walk down the stairs without a thought in your head. Well… maybe you had one or two thoughts, but it was okay. You could repent later at the chapel.

Maxine’s laughter was… almost adorable, if she wasn’t trying so hard to seduce Beau. Her nails lazily scratched up and down his bicep, and her face was embarrassingly close to his ear. If you had loved him the way you were supposed to, you would’ve been furious. Should have been furious.

You pictured Lorraine in Beau’s position. Sitting there with Maxine all over her, laughing at the unfunny jokes, leaning a little too close. It made your stomach turn. Your skin was hot and clammy and something pounded inside your head, screaming to be let out. There would have been no shame in your body for grabbing her and dragging her away.

Okay, there you go. Now you had the right feelings.

Your mind had already forgotten Lorraine wasn’t there when you sat in Beau’s lap. Like a good girlfriend should do, you wrapped your arms around his neck and held him close, inhaling his scent. Sawdust. Something you supposed other women liked, which made him a downright tease.

“How’s your first smut viewin’ goin’?” Maxine asked, which instinctively had your nose scrunch before you regained composure. “That good, huh?”

“It ain’t bad,” you said. “Don’t think I really understand the appeal, though.”

“What part is… unappealing to you?” She asked, her voice far softer than necessary. 

The way she leaned in closer, trailing her eyes over every inch of you… and maybe you could see the appeal. It was something about her hand that had moved from Beau’s arm to yours. Soft. Almost too soft, but you didn’t want it to stop. And she held eye contact like it was an art-

-oh, Maxine was dangerous.

“Oh,” Maxine said with a small smile, “so that’s what it is.”

What was that supposed to mean? You opened your mouth to ask, but the stairs started creaking from the heavy footsteps. The skin underneath Maxine’s fingers felt terribly cold when she pulled back. Unfortunately for her, she didn’t pull back before Lorraine appeared, her brows furrowed and eyes glued to her coworker.

Maxine just smiled.

“Am I interrupting somethin’?” Lorraine asked. Anyone that didn’t know her well would have missed the slight elevation in her tone. A dangerous tone.

“Just learnin’ a bit about each other,” Maxine said. Her hand rested on your arm again and you felt a heat in your cheeks. “Since we’re stuck here together and all.”

Like the dutiful girlfriend, you hid your head in Beau’s neck and tried to ignore his slight shake of silent laughter.

That tension didn’t end even as the sun set and stars came out to play. Everyone relaxed and had their fun and it reminded you of nights with just the four of you. Laughing, teasing, seeing Huck and Beau get closer than when they were at your house. Not too close, but it was still enough. Hell, it was almost enough to ease the usual anger from Lorraine being with R.J.

Until a few days later when it was time for everyone to start paying up on their lost bets.

The days had already started off miserably. Since you were “officially” Beau’s girlfriend, you were set to share a bed with him. But when Huck snuck in and you all tried to fit three people on a twin size mattress? Well, that was just borderline impossible. Clearly it wasn’t fully impossible, seeing as how you all made it work, but that didn’t mean you actually slept at all through the night.

Tack onto that Lorraine and R.J. coming down at the same time each morning, and you realised that you were horribly, terribly alone? You would have killed someone to get even just a single blanket and a big empty spot on the floor. Let you lie like a dog while everyone else became stars.

The first to suffer was, of course, you. Now, you would admit, you had offered to pay up first. In your convoluted train of thought, the sooner you watched Lorraine’s scene, the sooner you could forget it. At least that was what you believed would happen. You hoped that’s what would happen.

But in the moment, as you watched Lorraine getting ready, you knew it wouldn’t be quite that simple. You had to watch her move, see the look on her face, listen to her moans. She certainly never sounded like that when you were with her. Was this something that she genuinely enjoyed? Were you nothing more than a pleasant distraction when she was practically forced to go back home?

“I can’t do this,” you whispered to yourself. 

The hair on the back of your neck stood up as everyone watched you back out of the room, practically tripping over your own feet in your haste. Each step felt like the ground was rushing up to meet you, even as you stayed perfectly upright. You wished you would just trip down the stairs, maybe then it would ease the spiraling of your thoughts.

Downstairs wasn’t much better when you were still aware of exactly what was going on upstairs. Did you mean anything to her? Really, truly? Surely you did, Lorraine was hardheaded, she wouldn’t entertain your presence if she didn’t want you there. On the other hand, she kept RJ around for nothing, so maybe you were on the same level.

You picked up one of the books you had found the other day; some book called The Dead Sea Scriptures. It wasn’t all that fantastic, your daddy actually had a copy in his office at the church. But at least it was a distraction. Just like you. Okay, that certainly wasn’t helpful. Maybe you needed a stiff drink too.

The Hollywood grade acting you did was enough to convince everyone you were just peachy. No one batted an eye when RJ, Wayne, and Jackson left the parsonage after finishing Lorraine’s scene. To get some more groceries, they had said. You didn’t care, it really didn’t matter one way or another where they went.

“So,” Maxine said as she sat down beside you on the couch. Well, she practically sat on you. “You’ve got some explainin’ to do.”

“I’m not explainin’ the book of Job,” you said without looking up from your book. “Jackson already believes there’s a dragon in it and I can’t have that argument again.”

“Not about that, silly,” she said; her hand was hot on your knee. “About you bein’ a third wheel.”

Oh you were not getting into that kind of conversation with Maxine. The past few days had been wonderful, and truthfully you had enjoyed it. They were all a bit… extravagant, but they were kind. As odd as it sounded to you, they felt more like family than most of your own family. You could see why Lorraine spent so much time with them even when she didn’t have to.

But you enjoying their company did not mean you wanted to get into the whole relationship conversation with Maxine.

“Your boys are some of those queers, huh?” She asked. “That’s why they’re up there filmin’ some fake scene while you’re down here.” Her hand squeezed right above your knee. “Readin’ some nerdy little book.”

“It was a bet,” you said. “We’ve always paid up, ever since we were little.” She smirked. “And my book ain’t nerdy.”

“It bother you that you gotta share your man?” She asked, as if you hadn’t even said anything in the first place.

“I-”

“-did you really start without me?” Bobby-Lynn asked when she appeared in the downstairs living room.

You did your best to conceal your displeasure when Bobby-Lynn practically ran over to sit on the other side of you. Her legs were bare, her denim shorts barely covering any part of her. She swung them over your own legs quickly, leaving you officially trapped underneath the both of them. You would’ve been lying if you said it didn’t make your stomach flip.

“How far did ya get?” Bobby-Lynn asked. She was practically bouncing in excitement.

“We just started,” Maxine answered with a smile that would have made you squirm if you weren’t so focused on trying to figure out what was going on.

“Don’t y’all have scenes to shoot?” You asked in a desperate attempt to get them to leave you alone before they really got started.

“Don’t you have someone you should be thinkin’ about?” Maxine asked.

You opened your mouth instinctively, ready to argue, especially when Bobby-Lynn continued to lean closer. They both had some nerve to believe they could catch you off guard with their interrogation that was only just beginning. They had known you for, what, all of a few days? And still they thought they could get something like this out of you? They were pornstars, not detectives.

“Of course I’m thinkin’ about her-”

-maybe they were detectives.

You threw your head back against the couch, a groan leaving your lips. On either side of you, both women practically cheered, giving each other a high-five. It was disgusting, were you nothing more than a pawn in whatever game they were playing? Your daddy was right; couldn’t trust sinners.

You actively ignored the fact that you were one of them.

“Why the long face, sweetheart?” Bobby-Lynn asked.

“It’s not like we couldn’t tell,” Maxine said.

What was that supposed to mean? How did they even notice? As far as you could remember, you hadn’t even spent hardly any time in the same room as Lorraine. How could they get some sort of scandal out of that? Let alone the fact you thought you had said maybe three words to her after she had helped you pray over set on that first day. No, none of that made sense.

“I don’t know what you’re talkin’ about,” you said as you finally pulled yourself back upright, ignoring that Maxine’s and Bobby-Lynn’s faces were so close to yours they could kiss your cheeks if they wanted.

“You think every girl is fine with their boyfriend hookin’ up with another guy?” Bobby-Lynn asked.

You knew that would be the issue. You knew it, and you had told all three of them that it was shady at best. There was no logical reason for it, even if it was from some stupid bet. It may have been the 80s, but not everyone was as easy going as the four of you were. Not everyone was as understanding, and though that wasn’t the current issue, it still played its part.

“Not to mention all the lookin’ you’ve been doin’,” Bobby-Lynn chimed in. “You certainly ain’t lookin’ at Beau that way.”

“I-” you closed your mouth just as quickly as you had opened it. What were you going to say to argue? What could you say?

“Honey, we ain’t judgin’,” Maxine said. Her hand felt warm on your neck. She was far too close for comfort. “But this whole thing is pretty sad.”

“It ain’t that sad,” you pitifully attempted to argue.

“Darlin’, it’s downright painful,” Bobby-Lynn said. Her going back and forth with Maxine was giving you whiplash. “Ain’t never seen anyone pine like that.”

“It’s a bit pathetic,” Maxine said.

“Hey,” you said, your eyebrows instantly furrowing. “Hold your horses, that’s unnecessary.”

“Don’t be gettin’ so defensive,” Bobby-Lynn said with a smile that was to die for. “We’re here to help.”

“By throwin’ my self-esteem out the window?” You asked.

“Oh no,” Maxine said with a slowly growing smile, “it’s much better than that.”

This time, when your stomach twisted into knots again, you didn’t feel quite so dreadful about the upcoming plans.

—---

After Bobby-Lynn and Maxine had told you about their sneaky little plan, the parsonage had felt a little less like a prison. When all the guys got back and everyone finished upstairs, you almost felt at peace. There was still the lingering tension when both Lorraine and RJ were in the room, but you could work with it. And for once, you didn’t feel quite so bad when you met Lorraine’s eyes.

“How many scenes we got left?” Wayne asked when everyone settled downstairs for supper.

In a very selfless move, you had offered to cook. It certainly wasn’t because you didn’t want to have to look at anyone while Bobby-Lynn and Maxine got to work on their plan. That would have been selfish, and you were nothing if not a good, selfless, Christian girl.

“Only two or three, we can finish them tomorrow,” RJ said from his spot beside Lorraine on the couch.

“Me and Maxine have an addition to make,” Bobby-Lynn said.

“An addition?” Wayne asked. “What kind?”

“Well,” Maxine said, drawing out the word for longer than necessary, “we were thinkin’ our little Preacher would look awful pretty on her knees.”

“Excuse me?” Lorraine asked.

Suddenly, the food you were cooking required the utmost attention. It would be quite the shame if you burned something. After all, everyone back there was working rather hard on their scenes, they deserved a good meal, didn’t they? And if it gave you an excuse to not see the look on Lorraine’s face then, well, that’s just an added bonus.

“Fitting, ain’t it?” Bobby-Lynn asked.

“And we’d take good care of her,” Maxine drawled. Oh, they were really testing the waters.

It seemed to be working.

“She’s not part of this,” Lorraine said.

“Wouldn’t be such a bad idea,” RJ said. “Might draw more attention to the film.”

“It’s smut, RJ,” she continued, “it draws enough attention on its own.”

“Well hold on now, let’s talk this out,” Wayne said.

Everyone started talking - except, you noticed, for Maxine - and you almost wanted to laugh. If you had known this was all it would take to get Lorraine on edge, you would’ve said something like this ages ago. It sounded like she didn’t even care that RJ was in the room. It was… a nice feeling.

“Did you plan this?” Beau asked, suddenly appearing beside you.

“I don’t know what you’re talkin’ about,” you said softly with a shrug. “Everyone here has a mind of their own.”

“Well keep it up,” he said as he rested his hand on the small of your back, “because I think it’s workin’.”

“The answer’s no,” Lorraine said.

“Well why don’t we ask her?” Bobby-Lynn said.

Silence fell over the room quickly; it was suffocating. If you could have, you would have slunk away to the room you shared with the boys. Even before turning around you could feel everyone’s eyes on you. Maybe, if you were really lucky, you could get away without actually answering the question.

That possibility was struck down the moment you turned your head to look out into the room.

Lorraine was looking at you expectantly, most likely believing she knew what you were going to say. In any other situation, she would have been right. You wanted no one but her, and everyone was more than aware of it. Well, everyone but Wayne, RJ, and potentially Jackson. Though judging by the way Jackson was looking at you, he knew too.

“Might be fun,” you said with a shrug and turned back around. “I can always repent next door.”

“Are you serious?” Lorraine asked.

At that you turned back around and leaned your hip against the counter. Was she really going to question you? After what she did for a living? Not once had you ever judged her for it, you had even helped her make light of it when she felt guilt creeping in. She had the nerve to question you?

“Like a heart attack, honey,” you said with far more confidence than you felt.

The look Lorraine gave you was deadly.

“Seems we got our answer,” Maxine said.

Lorraine missed the look she gave Bobby-Lynn.

—---

You hadn’t been asleep for long when the door of your room creaked open. Part of you wished it would have stayed closed; it was the first night you weren’t sleeping on the floor while Huck and Beau took the bed. Maxine was becoming a godsend; she’s the one who had convinced the boys to sleep in the van outside.

“Are you asleep?” Lorraine asked quietly after the door had clicked shut.

“Yes,” you said even as you sat up and looked at her.

She was in the nightgown you remembered getting her for her birthday. Her other one had been so old, there was no way it had even been comfy anymore. Not to mention she had made sure to let you know at every opportunity how badly she needed a new one. Clearly RJ hadn’t listened, so you had gotten it yourself. It was mighty cute, if you did say so yourself.

Lorraine tip-toed her way to the bed, whispering a quick “scoot over” before crawling underneath the covers with you. Even though the temperature outside was mild, her feet were freezing. Which she made sure to make you aware of when she stuck them against your legs, her smile taking over when you yelped and shivered.

“Were you serious about doin’ a scene with Bobby-Lynn and Max?” She asked as she reached out to force her folded hands between yours. She was freezing all over.

“Depends,” you said even as you started trying to warm up her hands. “Were you bein’ serious about tellin’ me no?”

“Of course I was,” she said indignantly.

“Then so was I,” you said.

Lorraine groaned. “You can’t be serious.”

“As a heart attack,” you said just as quickly.

Even though you weren’t serious at all. That was never the actual plan. The plan was simply to get Lorraine jealous enough to come into the room and, what would you know, that’s exactly what she had done. Even if absolutely nothing else happened, you would be happy. At least you got to spend a night with her without having to keep it a total secret.

“Why would you want to do this?” She asked. “It’s not like you don’t know how it works.”

“Maybe I want to learn a few things,” you said with as much of a shrug as you could do lying on your side.

“What could you possibly learn from smut?” Lorraine asked. “It’s all fake.”

“Were all those noises you made fake?” You asked. “Cause you never do that with me.”

The look on her face was almost offensive. Her eyes lit up like she was in on some little secret. Was she really going to laugh at you? She never laughed at you, not even when she rightfully should. Her hand now cupping your jaw was not enough to distract from the fact she was laughing.

“Is that what you’re worried about?” She asked. “You think I don’t like havin’ sex with you?”

“Not that you don’t like it,” you said quickly. “Just that,” you sighed, “you don’t like it as much.”

Her thumb brushed against your bottom lip. “You make me feel things none of those guys could even dream of.”

“Well you have to say that now,” you said as you leaned further into her hand. “Otherwise I wouldn’t let you put your cold feet on me.”

Her smile slipped to something a little different, a bit more seductive. You didn’t put up any resistance as she used her elbow to push your shoulder until you were laying on the bed. With the same ease as you had seen numerous times, she followed, her legs on either side of you and her weight resting comfortable on top of you. A position you very much loved, even without the arousal that came with it.

“Is there any way I can convince you not to film tomorrow?” Lorraine asked, lowering her tone in such a way that had you squirming underneath her. “What can I do?”

God you were pathetic, she hadn’t even touched you yet.

It was supposed to be a simple question, but you took it to heart. Of course she could convince you, you weren’t planning on filming anyway, but what could you get out of this arrangement? There had to be something you truly wanted, especially now that you had some sort of leverage.

Ah. That was it.

“Somethin’ we haven’t done before,” you said. “Somethin’ you like.”

Her smile slowly grew as she thought of what she wanted. The weight on top of you shifted until her hands pressed your shoulders further into the mattress. You felt her breath on your lips before you felt her kiss, quick and soft and eager. It was enough to get your heart racing even when she pulled away. She was off you in a moment, practically running out of the room.

You sat up on your elbows and watched the open door. What was she doing? Surely she wasn’t going to just leave, right? No, she wouldn’t do that. Right? That had been one of her more mischievous smiles, and she was absolutely one for payback. But you also knew Lorraine was nothing if not eternally aroused, so surely she wouldn’t just leave.

At least she better not, because if she teased you like that only to go and get back in bed with RJ, you were going to lose your mind. You weren’t usually one to make a scene, but you could always make an exception. The wrath of God, and all that good preacher nonsense.

You’re in a house of sin.

Yes you were, and you were going to partake in it for the night. Repentance was only 50 feet and a few hours away. If Lorraine could remove her cross necklace during scenes, surely you could remove the guilt from your chest for a few hours. God may have been in the walls, watching your every move, but He could look away for the time. You were far past the point of caring.

By the time Lorraine came back into the room, you were already jittery. Her hands were behind her back as she closed the door quietly, the click almost inaudible. that mischievous smile was back, but you noticed the way she tapped her foot against the floor, still in the same spot.

“You promise you wanna try somethin’ new?” She asked, her voice uncertain, carrying over the thick air.

“I’m sure,” you said, “just get over here.”

Her steps were slow, methodical on the straight path to the bed. The whole way her hands stayed behind her back. You wondered what she had, but you couldn’t think too hard. Hell, the sway of her hips could have made you forget your own name.

That familiar weight settled on you again as Lorraine straddled you, placing whatever was in her hands off to the side, just out of your sight. When  you tried to twist and look at it, she pressed down against your shoulders again, her lips instantly finding yours.

Her nightgown rested high on her thighs, and you were never one to keep your hands to yourself. She sighed when you slid your hands under her nightgown, resting on her hips. Her breath tickled on your cheek. You couldn’t hold back your quiet chuckle, which Lorraine returned, smiling into the kiss.

“Don’t tickle,” she mumbled against your lips.

“What,” you said just as softly, “that ain't romantic?”

She laughed again, eliciting the same sound out of you as your hands continued up. Your knuckles brushed against the underside of her breasts, transforming her laugh into something a little more breathy but no less joyful. A sound that, you decided, was much better than anything you had heard during her scene.

“Take it off, Raine,” you said.

“What's the magic word?” She said before sitting up straight.

“Please,” you said breathlessly.

She barely waited for the word to leave your mouth before she pulled the nightgown over her head. Every time you saw her undress was like the first time. Your heart raced as she uncovered every inch of skin, from her thighs to her hips to her breasts. Not a single space had been neglected by you in your times together, and you weren't going to start that night.

You sat up, keeping a hand on Lorraine's back to keep her in your lap. She didn't hesitate to grab your face and pull you into a kiss. It immediately shot a wave of arousal down your spine, pooling in your lower abdomen. And for once, that usual spark of guilt was absent.

“Yours too,” she barely managed to say between kisses.

You couldn't speak, simply nodded as you fumbled around like a teenager. Or course the hem of your shirt would hide from you on the one night you not only had Lorraine, but a bed. She laughed again and pulled away. You tried to chase her - you would always try to chase her - but she pulled back again and placed a finger to your lips.

“Let me help,” she said.

Her fingers were so light against your skin that it tickled. She found the hem of your shirt quickly but took her sweet time pulling it up. Those delectable nails of hers scratched against your skin the entire time. Over your sides, the sides of your breasts, the underside of your arms as you held them up for her to finish pulling the shirt off.

“Is this Beau’s?” She asked.

“It’s comfy,” you said meekly.

She tossed the shirt to the side. “You should wear one of mine sometime.”

“I thought you liked me better shirtless,” you teased.

“Maxine has a word for people like you,” Lorraine said when she pulled you back in for a kiss. “She'd call you a minx.”

“I like it,” you said, kissing her back and running your knuckles over her nipples. Her shiver was delightful. “Sounds downright sinful.”

“Stop talking,” she said.

And oh god you did. How could you even consider doing anything else when you were enveloped by her? Her scent, her taste, the feel of her skin, warm against yours. If kissing her was the final nail in your coffin, you would accept death gracefully and with no regrets.

She nipped your lip when you lightly pinched her nipples. Never hard enough to hurt, no, but just enough to draw the most perfect little yelp from her lips. In return, her hands fell to your ribs, pushing against you until you were laying on the bed again.

You shifted, pulling your knee up until you pressed against her. She let out a breathy sigh, but otherwise kept kissing you. There was just something mesmerizing about the way she tasted. An ambrosia not for the gods, but for you alone. A sustenance for your very mind, body, and soul.

“Take these off,” Lorraine said, pulling lightly against the pants that you had also stolen from Beau.

In your defense, he was your fake boyfriend.

“Will you take yours off?” You asked even though you had already started trying to take your pants off.

She nodded hastily. “I want to feel you for a moment.”

You would've happily let her feel you for as long as she wished. All she had to do was give you the smile she was giving you in that moment. The one she had before the accident, the one she saved exclusively for the times she was alone with you. If she looked at you like that for the rest of eternity, you would be in heaven.

Her skin was hot against yours as she laid completely on top of you. On instinct, you wrapped your arms around her shoulders and back as she tucked her head into your neck. Her breath tickled your collar bone, but you couldn't have been happier.

How could such peace be a sin? Such pure love, something that would not only be applauded but praised if you had but been born a man? What difference could there truly be, aside from the shape of your body. The guilt sparked in your chest once again, but this time, you quickly stomped it out.

You would not be shamed for loving Lorraine. Not that night.

The position you were both in was comfortable and, quite frankly, innocent. But that didn't ease the inferno that was still raging inside you. If you had the ability to have Lorraine to yourself more than once in a blue moon, you would have been satisfied. But the “lust of the flesh,” as daddy called it, was as present and angry as always.

Thankfully, Lorraine seemed to feel the same when you felt her hips move and you felt her arousal on your thigh.

“Wanna try somethin’ new?” She asked, placing a seemingly innocuous kiss behind your ear.

“With you?” You asked. You placed your finger under her chin and lifted her face until you could see her eyes. “Always.”

She smiled and kissed you quickly before sitting up. You tried to sit up with her, but she used her bad hand to push you back down with ease. Not that it stopped you from trying to look around her to see the thing she had brought into the room. Her smile turned nervous, but no less excited as she finally turned back around.

“Is that-”

“-Maxine and Bobby-Lynn used one like it a few times,” Lorraine started to explain while she started pulling straps around your hips and thighs. “I asked ‘em to get me one not too long ago.”

“Jesus, Raine,” you said as she pulled the straps tighter.

“It works the same as-”

“-I can guess how it works,” you interrupted.

Her hands slowed to a stop as she finished securing the… phallic toy in place. “Are you sure you’re okay with this?”

“Lorraine,” you said as softly as you could, finally sitting up - as best you could without feeling too awkward - and placing your hand on the scarred side of her jaw. “I’m more than okay with it.” She leaned further into your hand. “If you asked me to wear only my boots and spurs, I would do it.”

“Oh yeah?” She asked, her teasing smile coming back in full force.

“Don’t push your luck, Day,” you said before leaning forward to kiss her again.

She moaned softly into the kiss. “If I did it right, you should feel it too,” she said as she lifted herself onto her knees, hovering over you. “So let me know.”

You nodded and pulled her into a kiss. As curious as you were to watch, you wanted to feel her lips against yours. You knew the moment she lowered herself onto the toy; her gasp was to die for. Shorty, breathy, almost inaudible if you hadn’t been kissing her already. The sound alone was enough to leave you soaking and needy.

But then you felt the toy press against you, and you knew you were a goner. Lorraine stayed still in your lap, catching her breath, and you would have been more than happy to keep her there. If she moved, you swore you would cum on the spot. It wasn’t a feeling that was so much better than everything else, but simply the knowledge that you were both feeling something together.

“I guess it works,” Lorraine teased even though she could barely keep herself in control.

“It does,” you said through clenched teeth as you tried to stay strong when she started moving again.

She didn’t have to move for long before you pulled her into a kiss, holding her tight against you. You did your best to move your hips with her. It was awkward and clumsy, and you both laughed a little when, more than once, you moved wrong and the toy slipped out. But you were okay with that, because it meant you got to hear her little gasp again.

As wrong as it felt, you had to picture Jackson to get a good rhythm going, or at least to get started. Specifically, you thought of the way his hips had moved with each thrust. You knew you got it right when Lorraine moaned, her head falling to your shoulder. If you hadn’t been so focused on not cumming or losing your rhythm, you would’ve moaned just the same.

“Baby,” she mumbled against your neck. Her nails dug into your shoulders; you would have to cover the marks up in the morning.

You knew what she wanted; she only ever truly called you “baby” when she was almost ready to cum. And you were more than happy to oblige. You kept one arm wrapped tight around her waist, holding her in place while your free hand slid down her stomach. Past the almost unnoticeable scatter of scars and through that small patch of hair.

Her hips jolted against your hand when you brushed against her clit. It was sloppy work; you would need to get used to the unusual angle later. But clearly it didn’t matter, because while her moans stayed quiet, they got higher in pitch until she bit down on your shoulder.

You used that as your sign to follow her, not even needing three more thrusts before you tipped over the edge along with her. You held her tight, hyper aware of every inch of her skin against yours. Of the slick sweat that coated both your bodies. Of the sting of her teeth and nails, but you would rather die than have her stop. Of your breaths intermingling between you until you were of one breath, one heartbeat, one soul.

Heaven existed, and it was right in that moment with Lorraine.

“You’re bleedin’,” she said softly. You didn’t have to look to know what she meant.

“It’s alright,” you said, pressing a light kiss to the side of her head. “You can nurse me back to health later.”

Lorraine giggled. A light sound that reminded you of when you were all kids and you would do anything to get that sound out of her. It was a reminder of simpler times, back when you were too young to understand that everyone believed what you felt for each other was wrong. A sin. Back when love was just that; love.

You let yourself fall back onto the bed, pulling Lorraine with you. She made a small noise when the toy moved inside her, but quickly settled back onto your chest. Her nails felt good scratching lightly against your skin, more comforting than ticklish. A nervous habit of hers.

“Did you learn all that from Jackson?” She asked.

“Don’t remind me,” you said; she chuckled. “I ain’t proud to say I had to picture him there for a minute.”

“Well, you gave him a run for his money,” she said.

“Think so?” You asked; you felt her nod against your chest. “Cause you still didn’t make the same noises.”

“Because these were real,” she said. Her voice grew quiet. “Everything with you is real.”

You wished she wouldn’t say things like that. That she could just let you both lie there, comfortable in the silence. Everyone was aware of the situation, but just once you wanted to pretend it wasn’t happening. That you actually did get to love her without feeling shame or guilt.

You just pulled her closer.

“I love you,” you said.

“I love you,” she repeated.

It wasn’t enough, but for the moment, you were going to pretend it was. For the moment, you could pretend this was your daily life. Being in the same bed as Lorraine, showing her just how much you loved her, how much she truly meant to you. Holding her tight until you were of the same body and spirit, because no matter what the world thought, you were.

It wasn’t enough. But it would do.

“Are you really goin’ to film a scene tomorrow?” Lorraine asked.

“Absolutely not,” you said. “Bobby-Lynn and Maxine just wanted to getcha all riled up.”

Lorraine lifted her head from your chest and lowered her brows.

“Are you serious?”

“As a heart attack,” you said with a smile.

“Sometimes I hate all of y’all,” she mumbled, quickly ducking her head back underneath your jaw. You still managed to catch the smile on her lips.

“I love you too, darlin’,” you said, pressing a lingering kiss to the top of her head.

Now this. This was enough.

[depressedcoffeeobsess]

𝐒𝐥𝐞𝐞𝐩𝐲 𝐊𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐬 ; 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐭𝐰𝐨

warnings: still friends , kisses on the cheek , cursing, some use of Y/N , given last name (sorry)

summary: remus faces the full moon and is scared to go to prefect duties , due to his scars\marks. he gets even more frightened when he's signed to be partners with the sterling girl. But he becomes too frustrated afterwards

Remus Lupin x fem!reader

Word count: tommorow (also known as lazy jo)

[Pt.1]

IT WAS A FEW DAYS after the first incident. Remus unfortunately had faced a lot more scars than usual, this time even getting one on his nose. He felt something like insecure but it wasn't insecure. He was currently on bed rest at the hospital wing. And he was surely unlucky to get the news that he would be doing prefect duties with the sterling girl.He had to make sure she wouldn't see him in this horrible and monsterific state. So he asked Wormtail to cover up for him if the girl asked.

And surely did she ask.

She walked over to the gryffindor table at breakfast. She sat down next to Peter. Peter and the others looked confused. She noticed that Remus wasn't there. So she wanted to inform him that they had duties together. "Morning!" She said in her usual joyful and cheerful tone.

"Morning?" Peter said or more like asked in confused.

"Have you seen Remus anywhere? I was going to tell him that we were set to do duties together." She said quite politely. The marauders excluding remus looked at each other with worry and regret for remus thus they decided to answer the girl, not so truthfully.

"Well um, he's kinda sick right now. You know not feeling the best." Sirius explained laughing nervously. "We could tell him that we, were just about to go up and give him breakfast anyways. The girl looked at them suspiciously.

"Well maybe I can visit him? Or maybe I can take his breakfast up for him?" She suggested looking at the frightened faces before her.

"No!" James shouted at the top oh his lungs. " I meant well um— he wouldn't like to see anyone now because he doesn't want to seek that much attention. Yeah." He nervously gulps out the last part. She get a tiny ping of sadness in her but decides to ignore it.

"Okay . . ." She says her voice barely louder than any whisper. With that she leaves for the ravenclaw table in order to find her friend pandora.

DURING POTIONS CLASS she realised that she would have no particular partner assigned for her. No, her partner wasn't remus but her former partner was in the hospital wing due to common illnesses. She simply didn't care at all though , because she knew she was intelligent enough to do things herself. But like wise slughorn disagreed. She sighed.

She was now partnered up with Peter Pettigrew. This got her mind racing with questions to ask him. She started buzzing her brain like crazy thinking of what possibly would be short yet hinty. And then she got it: where is he?

"Who?" Peter asked confused about who she was talking about. She said it out loud didn't she. Lucky her.

"Remus. I'm talking about him. How is he?" Another question blurted out.they often do that when she's not paying so much attention to her thinking and is more lured to the conversation in front of her.

"Oh well he's in the hospital wing, and he's fine. Totally fine." He answered as less suspicious as he could. The girl simply nodded believing what he had said quite easily. "Oh and he still doesn't want anyone to visit him other than us." He also included. This got the girl thinking too much again.

"Ms. Sterling pay attention please!" Slughorn yelled slightly sluggish at her lack of attention. "I've asked you a question two times waiting for an answer young lady!"

"Oh so sorry professor. Could you maybe repeat the question again?" She asked terribly embarrassed.

"What can happen to the one who drinks the potion liquid luck?" He asked for the third time.

"Felix Felicis is liquid luck, which makes the person who drinks it lucky for a certain period of time. which ends up in causing the drinker to have good luck for a limited period of time, during which they were likely to to succeed in all endeavours in which success was possible." She answered as she had almost copy and pasted it to her words from a advanced book of potions.

"Very good! Five—six points to gryffindor!" He said quite speechless himself. The slytherins behind them grunted annoyed.

And so the day went on almost time for prefect duties.

IT WAS ALMOST THE time for prefect duties. Remus laid anxiously on his four poster bed thinking about whether he would go there or not. He was perfectly fine just got a little hiss from the small slash on his cheek next to his mouth. It was dangerously close to his mouth. He was going up and down. His heart seemed like it would beat out of his chest any minute now. I mean why should he be so nervous. It wasn't like he liked the girl . . . Right? In the end he decided he would have to accompany her as he couldn't leave the poor girl alone, or worse going with someone else.

Suddenly there was a soft knock on the dorm door. Remus thought it was Peter and stood up without hesitation. He swiftly turned the door knob , quietly opening it without hesitation. But what was infront of him took him by mere surprise. It was her! The sterling girl. God knows how she came up here. His eyes widened with pure horror. His head started slowing down because his heart was leaping faster that a snitch.

"Hi there Remus" She said turning her head to get a better view of his face. She looked so relaxed and innocent. His heart rate got even faster, he swore that she would hear it go boom boom. "Um I hope you feel better" with that she shoved a small piece of parchment—or rather a letter into his hands. And then she turned around leaving , skipping.

Remus was in shock. Every step she took away from him made his heart rate go normal. But then again , he got kinda disappointed. He closed the door shut and sat on Sirius's bed. For some stupid reason Remus would occasionally sit on sirius's bed when he felt angry or nervous. Right now it was definitely nervousness. He slowly peeled the letter open to see very cursive yet neat‐readable handwriting. He fell in love. He didn't even read the letter yet. His stomach filled with butterflies. No why butterflies. Fuck butterflies, he had an entire zoo in there. He saw a small heart at the end. And eight lovely words. It had wrote ' I love you to the moon and back ' . The fact that it had mentioned a moon was his biggest tingle. He felt like he was being truly accepted for the person he is. He walked up to the small drawer next to his bed and carefully left the small note in the crook of the drawer.

He decided to get his robes on and leave for prefect duties.

SHE SKIPPED BACK TO her dorm. Her fellow girl mates looked at her pitying every inch of her. But immediately took it back when they saw her face. It was slightly tinted pink and she was smiling like a child who was getting an award of first. "How'd it go Y/N?" One of them , Marlene asked. Lily almost hit Marlene.

She squealed " it went amazing Marls!" She said clearly proud of herself. "I put the note in his hand and skipped back here!" Mary and Marlene looked at each other. Lily did a mental face palm and took a deep sigh.

Mary shook her head dissatisfied. " no wonder everyone looks at you like shit" Mary cursed under her breath.

Withought even thinking anymore she got ready for prefect duties.

REMUS MET THE GIRL outside the gryffindor common room. He looked slightly feared. And well he was feared that the girl would see his scars and come to the common sense that he was a werewolf. But he was scared she would call him a monster. He took a shaking breath and looked at the girl. Even in the dark he could find her smile. Her smile was brighter then the sunshine that came from the bright sun.

"Are you okay remus?" She asked softly with a ping of concern. He wanted to give her a nod but instead he gave her a shook of his head. "Oh well is there anything I can do for you?"

"Well—I," He took a sigh and prepared himself. "Could you maybe hold my hand?" He asked his voice lower than a whisper.

"Sorry I couldn't get you?"

"Could you hold my h-hand?"

"One more time."

"Could you hold my hand?" He asked for the third time.

"Sure. I suppose its you're way of getting comfort!" She said happily almost. He nodded. But the truth was it was a lie, she was his way of comfort.

Withought a second thought she intertwine her fingers with his. It was like the perfect fit. It fit in like a heart and a chest. He felt his whole body going numb. Boom boom goes his heart again.

They were walking together. No clear words exchanged between the pair of them. He knew she was muttering soft things on and on. But couldn't glue the words together to get a perfect sentence. Be brave he kept thinking.

"So what did you learn in defence against dark arts today?" He asked breaking the endurable silence.

"Oh it was the patronus spell. It was amazing when professor did it. But unfortunately we were caught up in learning to see the time passing by. So we're going to do the spell tomorrow." She explained fully patient.

"That's cool , I heard Snape can already conjure a full bodied patronus." He said thinking about what his patronus would be.

"Really? That's amazing I wonder what my patronus is gonna be like. My mum got her patronus as a donkey, quite sad honestly. She had to pay galleons for her friends to keep it a secret. I hope my patronus is graceful like a Swan and courageous as a tiger. But I don't want it to be any of them." She expressed with light and sorrow in her words. "My dad got his patronus as a Swan. Mum says she can see where that came from. Though I don't want to know." She piled words onto more words. Remus laughed quietly. Following that she also laughed. And boy oh boy, remus's heart went thumping like crazy as if a carpenter had been hammering a nail. His face flushed , it wasn't that bright but you could say he was flushed.

They ended the duty near the painting of the gryffindor common room. "I had a lovely time with you Remus but," She sighed. Remus suddenly froze. Did she finally figure it out? "Why do you have scars on you face?" She asked. Remus almost took a sigh of relief.

"Um well Sirius's Owl sweeped by our window and slashed me on the cheek—" He didn't get to finish it off. The girl pulled him byt the colour and kissed him on the—cheek. It was near his mouth. Too near. Dangerously near to his mouth. He flushed brighter than the candy apple red.

"Good night remus" She said sleepily. She muttered the password and got into the common room. Leaving a very flushed remus in the hallway, wide eyed. He was so thankful that it was dark. And from that moment he realised ;

I'm in love with her . . . again.

°°°°°°°°°•°°°°°°°°°

A/N : sorry for leaving you on a cliff hanger love's .

OH THE WHOLE ZOO PART!!!!!

• dividers by @issysh3ll

•I totally need @amiableness to proof read this. (GO FOLLOW HER EEP!!!)

• @jamesweather for reblogging my pt.1 (read it!!!)

[givehimthemedicine]

El traded herself for Max in the void: a timeline switch crack concept

I'm not saying "theory" because I'm not 100% serious but hear me out anyway because there is something here, I'm just not sure what. if nothing else I get to inflict an angsty scenario on you

so you know how Two Days Later El's behavior irt Max is just so weird?

after everything that happened, you'd expect El to already be screaming "IS MAX OKAY?" as the van door is sliding open. instead, she doesn't ask about her at all.

even when Dustin says Lucas is at the hospital, El goes "is he hurt?" as if Max isn't crossing her mind at all as a reason for him to be at the hospital.

Will's casual inquiry of "where's Lucas" is weird in of itself. Will was there when El hatched the whole "Protect Max" plot and literally spoke to El while she was in Max's memories/the void. he knew Max being in danger was the whole thing. he definitely would've asked about Max before he asked about Lucas.

then Lucas says how it was a miracle that Max's heart started beating again, and Mike and Will give El this look. the obvious interpretation being that they assume El is somehow responsible but didn't say a word about it. (classic El behavior)

call me crazy, but doesn't it kinda fit to say that Two Days Later El does not have Void El's memories?

the El who arrives in Hawkins is NOT acting AT ALL like someone who watched her best friend die, brought her back, and ended the interaction with her in a dubiously-alive-critically-injured state.

this El is behaving like one who succeeded in rescuing Max and therefore isn't especially worried about her current status. maybe even a version where Lucas never got beaten up, the tape never got broken, the plan worked. who never told the boys she revived Max, because she didn't.

there's just something about El being all dirty and bloody during Max's death scene and then visiting Max two days later still wearing the same outfit except a still-clean version of it. like none of that happened to this El.

there's just something about Dustin's "oh God, you don't know." maybe this El doesn't! she looks lost af.

there's just something about Mike's "we came as soon as we heard." El was there and saw it all, but you just now heard it from Dustin? I know El is tight lipped but you're really saying she got out of the pizza freezer and into a TWO DAY LONG van ride and the conversation never got around to, like... how the mission went?

yet as of the cabin end scene, suddenly Mike and Will both know stuff that only El could've told them. so.. she did talk in the van? but didn't mention the Max stuff? that's even weirder.

let's talk about Vecna's 4th gate

so gates open on the exact spot of Vecna's victims' bodies, right?

here's where the Max gate starts to open in the UD attic, corresponding to exactly where Max is lying dead in the RU attic.

except that absolutely cannot be.

because they showed us what instantly happens if even a small part of the gate crack passes beneath a person. it looks like this:

so if that gate originated exactly under Max's body, Lucas would not have any warning. the only way he would've found out about it is by seeing at least a section of Max's corpse suddenly get vaporized Jason-style. (if not also his own body!)

instead, Lucas has time to see it starting to form and pull Max to safety. which means it couldn't have started forming exactly under Max.

the forming gate that Lucas is looking at as he drags Max away is actually sorta between Max and the spider shrine.

now look where El was sitting.

what if the 4th sacrifice was El, not Max?

we never actually saw the results of whatever El did when she put her hand over Max's heart. the easiest assumption is she just did magic cpr and started Max's heart again. but what if she was doing something to trade places with Max?

"but wtf are you talking about, because El continues being alive for the rest of the episode?"

for this concept I'm borrowing an idea from @heroesbyler that's had me clawing the walls of my cell lately - in case you missed her recent big brain posts, she pointed out some weird discrepancies in actual vs void versions of scenes throughout the show, suggesting that when El visits the void, she could actually be looking into different timelines. I'd definitely submit the Creel attic as another example.

so when I say what if El traded herself for Max, I'm talking Void El and Void Max.

I'm talking something about Max's death, or revival, or the opening of the gates, throwing some kind of trolley dilemma train tracks switch between timelines. idk there are too many details to iron out before I pitch this in seriousness but idk I just. I swear to you Two Days Later El and Void El aren't lining up.

some discrepancies in the real vs void Creel attic (not all. this could be a whole post itself)

void vs UD:

according to the UD shot, the origin point of the death gate is perfectly centered relative to the rug, and, say, a foot away. here's my hasty approximation of where I'd expect it:

this is why I'm not taking the L about how honestly El's location doesn't perfectly align with the UD origin point - because neither does Max's.

void vs RU:

IRL, Lucas is cradling Max across his lap. his legs are more or less parallel to the spider shrine while Max is angled at, very roughly, 45 degrees to it. the bug lamp is centered on it.

in the void version, the bug light is far towards one end of the table. while Lucas and Max's positions feel fairly consistent, their placement relative to the SS is not.

if you follow the lines of the floorboards in the IRL shot, his butt is aligned nearly with the far right edge of the SS. but here, don't they all seem decidedly further towards the left of it?:

as soon as Max dies, things get differenter. now they're further right again, only Lucas and Max's positions are more spoony, pointed the same direction. she's nearly parallel with the SS now. her feet also seem jacked up at more severe angles.

overhead shot also makes that bug light's off-centeredness very clear.

also you notice how we don't see El hearing Max in the void? I mean, she must have, otherwise she wouldn't reply "No, you're not going", but it's just odd how WE don't see that.

I've talked before about how Max says both "I don't want to die" and "I don't want to go," which are two different concepts in ST universe, and that Lucas and El each get to respond to one of them. so why not show us El hearing the one that's hers?

IRL Max is begging for her life, but when we switch to the void, she's abruptly silent and much more still. El only hears Lucas. back to IRL, Max is still more actively struggling and vocalizing a little before she dies. the energy doesn't match super well.

other bits

on the subject of El's "No. You're not going." if you really wanted to, you could interpret that in a "- because I'm going instead" way. I know, she didn't especially say it with that inflection. but it does have me thinking about how incredibly in character it is for El to be willing to trade herself like that.

it made me think of this moment:

yeah we've all demanded to know what was the reason for having Owens assume Max was a boy. but has anyone talked about how El, in her reply to that very line ("no, do not send your men. send me.") does the same thing? Owens just said "people". El assumes they are men.

there's just something about El saying "do not send your men[?], send me" immediately after Owens referring to Max as a him[?]. it gives kind of a "don't take Max, take me" flavor.

there's also something about how Max wasn't supposed to be the 4th sacrifice anyway.

and by this point El has heard the monologue about how all this time, it's all been about getting to her. so she's definitely feeling that Max is dead in the crossfire because of her. you don't think that if she only could, she would take Max's place and face Vecna directly, whatever that entails? whether it's death or some ambiguous awful fate?

can you tell me this kid

wouldn't trade herself for Max?

also just curious that the very first time they played Running Up That Hill, it actually began on a shot of a distraught El walking down her school hallway before it transitioned to Max walking the opposite way down her school hallway. with the song edited to skip straight from the opening to the chorus about swapping places.

don't worry I'm sure there's no way that means anything 👍

finally, El is distraught not to be able to find Max in the void when she goes looking for her. but it's weird because El has located corpses, flayed people, and inanimate objects in the void before. there's no reason she shouldn't be able to locate Max due to her being in a coma/"trapped".

what if it's not Max who's offline? what if El can't see into that timeline anymore because she's dead in it?

[stevie-petey]

hi i’m back!! first of all let me just say how mind blowing your writing is????? EVERYONE SAY THANK YOU M FOR THE AMAZING CHAPTER!!!

im so glad dear billy is ur fav ep from season four too because it’s mine too and oh my god. you did so well in making everything fit so perfectly together bc yk bug not being in st is still such a sad truth for me (and it’s shocking how you aren’t in the writers room for st s5 rn)

but anyways THERES ALOTTT TO UNPACK IN THIS CHAPTER !!

steve and bug first bc holy shiti swear i could feel my heart dropping multiple times while reading about them 

bug asking steve to choose max over her?? and steve pleading with her not to make him choose max over her and saying

“I’m choosing you, Y/N.” and adding 

“I’ll always choose you.” YK WHAT HERES THE FULL SCENE BC IT BROKE ME IN HALF.

[“I’m choosing you, Y/N.” Steve whispers, lips pressed softly against your hair. Your body stiffens, he feels it, but he holds you tighter instead. “I’ll always choose you.”

“Steve…” 

“Please don’t make me say no to you.” He pulls away, grabs your face and makes you look at him. You’re pale, tears wet your lovely face, and all Steve wants to do is fall asleep with you forever. He strokes the crest of your eyebrow, kisses your forehead. “Please don’t make me lose you.”]

PLEASE DONT MAKE ME LOSE YOU?????!?!?!?!?!!? just stab me with bugs pocketknife please.

and before that scene i remember the conversation between them about how steve recalled feeling gutted after seeing nancy and jonathan thinking his night couldn’t get any worse UNTIL HE SAW THE LOOK OF HEARTBREAK ON BUGS FACE and how it made him feel worse knowing he couldn’t have done anything to prevent her from feeling that hurt

[“But that night, it just-it really fucking hurt, you know? Thought I’d never feel anything shittier, that my night couldn’t get any worse. But then… I saw your face.”

“The heartbreak on your face, that fact that I couldn’t do anything to protect you from it. That’s what hurt me the most.”]

..AND THE MOST IMPORTANT LINE OF ALL (TO ME) [“And it’s why I won’t let anything else happen to you.”] and i know steve will try his best to protect her if it meant ensuring bugs safety in the end.

sooooooo who’s gonna tell them that they’ve been eachother’s protectors since day one without even knowing it!

these two are so special to me and it’s just so heartbreaking to see them this way, steve feeling so much fear, and anger :(

i understand his frustration with bug bc everyone can clearly see how she’s putting her own issues aside (despite her literally being cursed with the same thing as my baby max) just to save max and that’s not good bc it’s the BOTH of them that needs saving and bug being stubborn about it isn’t helping steve’s current state :( also i saw ur reply and YOU USING a beatles song is so evil and i love it so so much!!!!!

i’m not ready for bugs visions cause ik shes been carrying sm guilt…with the recent deaths of hopper and billy AND OMG THE NIGHTMARES???? dustin hearing her yell out billy’s name in the middle of the night ☹️ dustin’s being a champ rn LIKE i know he’s not showing it for the sake of his and bugs sanity but i know he’s going crazy in his head bc ITS HIS BIG SISTER?? AND HIS BEST FRIEND?? my poor baby is scared pf losing his bestest friend in the world :( i just need my Henderson siblings happy please </3

and lucas oh lucas!!!! my poor guy he’s literally never been so scared and worried in his entire life until now. THE POSSIBILITY OF LOSING BOTH THE LOVE OF HIS LIFE AND HIS BIG SISTER IS SO ☹️i need to hug him.

steve and nance r gonna be so best friends (alongside with the loml robin) and i love how they’re becoming more friendly with each other now like the playful banter im ready! (i know they were civil and were already somewhat friends but still) i didn’t particularly enjoy the love-triangle thing in s4 so i’m interested to see how you’ll be dealing with all of it 😭

btw i’m purposely ignoring jon rn. WE DONT SPEAK ABOUT HIM. (he’ll fall to his knees the minute he gets to hawkins and finds out about the curse that vecna gave bug)

ALSO SORRY THIS IS SO LONG BUT I KNOW YOU DONT LIKE TO CHANGE THE CANON TOO MUCH so idk what your plan is with max and bug…but oh my god the survivors guilt bug will carry…im not even ready. max and bug to me is like a literal reflection of each other and their relationship in this story is definitely my favorite thing ever. i don’t even wanna talk about that one scene where bug was yelling at vecna to take her instead. i don’t. i just mentioned it bc i feel so devastated and unready for what’s about to come.

i read smth about how u said there aren’t anymore disagreements between bug and steve!!! and how the rest will just be sad ones AND CUTE ONES (im holding u to that ml) 

does this mean they’ll talk 🤞🤞 i need them to have a proper conversation so i’m crossing my fingers and wishing that we’ll have that conversation alongside with the later conversation between steve and nance (and i believe that it was definitely done for good reasons!)

i listened to in my life while writing this btw and i feel so brave!! 

okay i’m done !! i’m sorry this was long but i appreciate your works and i’m in awe of you !! pls never stop being great!! i hope you’re doing well <333 sending u sm love today lovely <3 e

-🌟🍓

dear billy supremacy !!!

and the entire steve and bug i choose you scene ,,, oh boy theres so many layers to that one specific conversation that i simply cannot wait to dive into later. for now, the entire notion of their relationship is that they chose to love one another !!! bug chose to wait, steve chose to trust her, and they chose to fall in love <333 i firmly believe that true love is choosing to love your partner, not just the chemical reaction in our brains, but the act of staying and trusting to be loved in return - THATS true love.

and steve revealing hes always wanted to help/protect bug <333 i love the porch scene. i love tying things together and also just seeing their growth throughout the seasons. in season 1 the porch scene was heavy with insecurity. bug was weak, back then. she didnt want steve to see how hurt she was (but failed). now we fast forward years later for season 4 and shes actively leaning on steve !!! seeking his comfort !! yet shes also standing her ground, doing what she believes is right (even if shes wrong). and STEVE !! he failed her in season 1, he refuses to fail her again in 4 :((

now bugs whole "hey gang lets focus on max not me haha" will cause a few rifts within the group - everyone knows its unneeded, they all hate shes doing this, but they also know that they cant change bugs mind. its very bittersweet and :///

max and bug ,,, u Get It. they ARE reflections of one another. max is fifteen, same age bug was in season 1. its very very very reminiscent of how bug was back then, stubborn and slightly cold but still so full of love and concern for her friends. max is where bug was, confused and scared and unused to asking (or accepting) help. bug sees this and she also is struggling with this. theyve always had a close relationship, but billys death changed everything and brought them closer together. bug feels a kinship to max, she feels responsible for her, and max knows this and almost resents her for it. its messy and very sad and hard and me not changing canon too much will make things even MORE heartbreaking and sad :(

but on a happier note: YES STEVE AND BUG DO ACTUALLY TALK !!! they have a whole lovely conversation later (in the very last ep lmao) that resolves a Lot i promise guys theyre end game i just like drama and growth.

in my life <333

[perfectpaperbluebirds]

Can I request a Shane and Molly holiday sickfic where they’re trying to celebrate but then they both get sick?

Words: 1367

Title: We'll Share A Cup Of Kindness Yet

Hey hi hello anon and thanks for the request. This suited my current, continued need for small drabble prompts perfectly, and as soon as I read this cute post by @sickromancer, I immediately thought of my favorite medical couple and this prompt, and here we are. Glad I could get this out before the end of the official holiday season. Sorry if you guys are sick of Christmas stuff. That was the holiday that worked best with my vision for this. This may not quite be what you asked for in the prompt, but I think it speaks to the intention anyway. I wrote this in like an hour and it’s barely proofread, so forgive any errors, and also forgive the ending since I couldn’t figure out where to stop it. It is also so sappy and sickly sweet, but that’s all I ever want to write for Shmolly. So warning for that I guess lol. 

This house party was standing room only, so everyone was forced into a perpetual state of milling around, snacking and small talking. Events like this were Molly’s worst nightmare, and it was so full here that there was no hope of finding a corner in which to hide even for a little bit. To make matters worse, Molly was also sick. It had been coming on for a few days, but only those who knew her best had been able to tell until recently. It had progressed to being visible to the rest of the world less than eight hours ago, and the timing of this fancy Christmas party couldn’t be worse in that regard. 

Sarah, Molly’s best work friend, lingered near the dark-haired woman, ready to swoop in and intervene if Molly started to get that uncomfortable, panicky look her friend knew all too well. Sarah was only here because Molly had asked her to be, and Molly was only here because Shane had asked her to be. However, since Shane was busy playing the role of ‘charismatic up-and-coming young doctor’ elsewhere in the house, someone had to keep an eye on Molly and keep her from going crazy. Molly was fine for now, though, chatting with the hostess about books. In fact Sarah wished someone would swoop in and save her instead. With nothing better to do, she listened idly to Molly’s conversation, nibbling the food from her tiny plate.

“I’ve actually been on a classics kick lately, reading and rereading those books from those ‘Books You Need to Read Before You Die’ lists. I just read The Alchemist for the first time and found it really interesting,” Molly was saying happily, though Sarah heard her audibly sniffling. “I really loved– sorry, just a moment…” Molly turned away awkwardly, dabbing at her nose and giving a half-hearted blow in an attempt to do damage control while doing her best not to spoil her makeup. “Sorry, I think I’m coming down with something. Me and the rest of the world, right? Just in time for Christmas.”

The hostess laughed merrily. “Jim just got over a cold a day or two ago too. It’s that time of year unfortunately, and health care workers take the brunt of it. But back to the classics, I also loved the Alchemist. Such a simple story, yet he managed to impart so much depth and meaning.”

Sarah sighed, tuning out again. Molly was clearly settling in for a long chat, rhinovirus and all. Good for her. It was dull to listen to people talk about books you’ve never read, however. By now her plate was empty, so Sarah began to maneuver her way back to the kitchen for something else to snack on, and maybe some punch. 

In the kitchen, she ran into none other than Shane, almost literally. He was standing in the doorway, talking loudly to some other young doctors, all of them holding cocktails. Shane of course had the floor, and Sarah didn’t have time to catch what he was talking about before he paused suddenly, then lurched forward into a muffled sneeze, crushed into the napkin he was holding. He sprang up as the others chuckled, scrubbing at his nose.

“... and I have a fucking cold,” he groaned, clearly playing up his misery for the laughs. Sarah couldn’t help but laugh too, slipping past them on her way to the punch bowl. So that’s where Molly had caught her cold. Or had it been the other way around? That was one of the few benefits of being single, Sarah thought to herself as she loaded up another tiny plate. At least there wasn’t anyone to swap germs with constantly. 

~~~

The party had ended, they had dropped Sarah off at her apartment, and Shane and Molly had made their way back to the condo. Shane had gone immediately to the bedroom to remove his tie and stiff shirt and shoes. He expected Molly to be right behind him, but when he had fully changed into pajamas and she still hadn’t joined him, he went in search of her. 

His lovely wife hadn’t made it out of the living room and was instead sitting on the arm of the couch, staring at the Christmas tree, the twinkling lights illuminating the otherwise dark room, sparkling and shimmering off of everything, especially her glittery red dress. It was a breathtaking sight, and Shane had to be a part of it. He padded to her side and looped an arm around her shoulders. She leaned into his embrace willingly, though she didn’t take her eyes off the tree. 

“Whatcha thinkin’, love?” he murmured, his lips brushing her hair. 

“I’m thinking that I’m actually starting to like holidays again thanks to you,” she said, her voice almost as hoarse and gravelly as his. She turned to look at him with a tired-eyed smile, the dim light somehow accenting her red, chapped nose, which also matched what he had seen in the mirror. “I’m thinking I love string lights. We should put them up year round. And I’m thinking I really, really hate colds.”

How could she say so much in so few words? Shane could only marvel at her, unsure whether to laugh or cry. He settled for a soft chuckle, but the sound caught in his throat and became a cough instead, which somehow covered both bases nicely. “Yes to the year round string lights. And I’m sorry I gave you my cold.” In a fluid motion, he pulled her onto his lap and took her place on the couch arm, wrapping his arms around her securely. “And I’m honored that I get to spend the rest of my life helping you like holidays again. It’s a responsibility I will never take for granted.” 

The last part was whispered into her ear as she nuzzled her cheek against his. They remained just like that for a long time, their breathing in sync, letting the peace of the moment wash over them. 

However, eventually their shared cold demanded attention once more. Shane freed one of his arms to dig in his pocket for a tissue, pressing it to his nose just in time to stifle a sneezing fit, taking great care to avoid sneezing directly on the woman in his lap. 

“Bless you, hon,” Molly murmured once he was finished, kissing his cheek. 

“Thanks,” he sniffled, scrubbing the back of his hand under his nose since the tissue was now useless. “I hope we didn’t pass this along to anyone at the party.”

“I hope so too,” Molly sighed. “It just figures. This is the first time I’ve gone to a Christmas party in years, and I have a cold, which I probably ended up giving to the hospital CFO’s wife.”

“If you did it won’t set in for a few days, meaning she won’t be sick for Christmas. Unlike us.” He checked his watch. “Speaking of which… Merry Christmas, baby.” 

“Merry Christmas.” They shared a tender kiss. 

When they broke apart, Molly was smiling mischievously. “Whatever Christmas present you got me better be pretty damn good to make up for this awful gift you already gave me,”

“First of all, I always get you amazing presents. So yes, your Christmas present is pretty damn good. But secondly, you knew I was getting sick a few days ago and you still kept kissing me like you always do. I think that means the blame falls totally on you. And this gift isn’t all bad anyway. We get to cancel all the plans we want to for the next few days and stay home in our pajamas. Sounds pretty good to me.”

“You know what… you make a good point.” Molly dug out her own tissue just then, wiping and blowing her nose thoroughly. “I miss being able to breathe through my nose, though.”

“Me too. Maybe Christmas hot chocolate will help.”

“Hot chocolate always helps. And I can’t think of a better way to spend the midnight between Christmas Eve and Christmas Day. It's very Auld Lang Syne.” 

“All for you, my dear,” Shane murmured, brushing his lips over her ear once more. 

[notinterestedinyourstuff]

28 July 2023

happy birthday king! karena today is his majesty birthday, it's holiday today, tomorrows are weekend, then earlier next month is buddhist day, so we're having long holidays!

well, ups and down this week 555, tryna to keep sane coz i'm getting close to be crazy with this study life. good to know that, i ain't asked myself why am i doin this. it's just, how to do this kind of life, coz i know i cant go anywhere but live with it.

i stunned when i'm doin my work. in front of my samples, my mind kinda said "what shoul i do with you?" laugh at myself.

talked with a friend, which first it aimed to be the conversation about my study topic, but ended in my personal problem. so sorry mate. but thank you anyway.

let's live my life again. i have 6 days to fix the draft of this shit topic that i love. yes i love this topic, it's just currently i'm in the confuse state.

[carterenada]

Welcome to me explaining the conceptual madness that is Album About High School Girl. Let me start with how I got the idea. I was thinking about how a lot of artists have made entire albums about one person and how crazy that is. To make an entire album dedicated to a person. Then, being in high school, I thought about how crazy it would be if someone in high school made an entire album about someone they go to high school with, and then released it while they still go to school together. So I decided fuck it I’ll do that shit. But I had to choose someone. And this girl came to mind who I had interacted with a lot throughout high school. I was totally over the whole situation, but realized that there was a story there. Not about her but about me. Although none of our interactions were super long or significant, they made me realize a lot about myself. And that’s what the album is about. Those things she made me realize.

Freshman Year intro:

This song is a short storytelling song that basically just sets up a bunch of themes that I build on throughout the album. It starts off with a few piano chords by themselves that are repeated at the end of the song with the lyrics I really don’t know how to start when my minds tearin itself apart and you’re the reason why. So the point of that was to set up from the beginning that all of my thoughts about this person are overwhelming and stressful for me, even though I don’t get into that for a few songs. Anyways the story is we had a class together freshman year and I always thought she was cool and confident and pretty and wanted to talk to her but never did because I assumed she wouldn't ever want to talk to me because I have trash self esteem and view myself as ugly and awkward and weird. I also assumed that she really was how she appeared on the outside. She also hung out with the kids in the class who were cool and popular but like in the tough way. And I’m, a pussy. As the year went on the teacher opened up a second computer lab because we were running out of space. And a lot of days it would be only me and her who would use it but we would never speak. The one day she brought her friend to the class with her and she started a conversation with me and I was super taken aback and surprised but excited that I got to talk to her. It meant my assumption that she’d never be interested in talking to me was somehow wrong. What I didn’t think about was she only did it while having her friend there, which is something that will be significant later in the album. No spoilers though, you’ll have to watch the whole video!

State of Mind:

State of mind is another song that’s supposed to give context to and explain later things on the album. The song details my current state of mind, when writing the album. Don’t worry I’m much better now. In some ways. In other ways I’m much much worse. Anyways! The song describes my struggle with mental health issues, mainly bipolar disorder. The main thing I talk about on this song is grappling with the fear of going crazy. This fear comes from derealization, meaning feeling like the world around me isn’t real and having a hard time differentiating between dreams and reality. I have really vivid dreams that feel so real that I feel like I’m still in them for a while even after waking up. I also talk about symptoms of BPD. I talk about how I’m able to recognize when I become manic and overly energetic or depressed and hopeless, and I can understand what’s happening and try to control it, but I’m worried that when I’m older I’ll end up like Kanye and not be able to control myself or have any self awareness. Keep in mind this was written months ago so props to me for predicting the future. Another thing I talk about is how my whole life with the pandemic was just being in my room all day every day and my curtains block out the sun and I sleep during the day so my sense of time was fucked. But when stuff opened back up, my life stayed the same because I had no friends and nothing to do. Halfway through the song the beat cuts and a little guitar ballad starts, which is cut off by a super glitchy transition. Then there’s a monologue of me ranting about all of the things that make me think I’m going crazy. The main theme of this is whether or not destiny is real and there’s someone or something controlling everything, and how I think there is because of all these coincidences I notice that can’t be real. It’s over a very fast paced, purposely dissonant piano instrumental that’s supposed to represent and help build my manic state of mind. Then I start talking over myself and then again and then there’s like 6 of me all talking over each other and then an alarm clock sound starts and a voice says “wake up” and then a voice repeats the word “70” at the exact same tempo as the alarm clock and then I come in rapping and say “I’d say 70 percent of the time I’m depressed it’s fine I’m used to it but the newest shit” and then start talking about all of the stuff I’ve been experiencing recently.

A Thing:

This song tells the story of how me and the love interest first started talking. So sophomore year I started talking to her through this other girl I was friends with. We snapped for a while. This other girl had said we should date and I made some stupid joke like about how I could never actually get her, and she just kept being like “I don’t know” and I wanted that to end so I asked her out as a bluff so that she’d admit she was just messing around. You know, like manipulation. But to my surprise she said yes and invited me ice skating. I was like fuck, this was not my plan. But then I was like fuck, this is pretty dope. (that’s a joke I’m an intelligent person I promise) We started talking more and more and it was going well. We would talk about our problems and vent to each other and it made me feel closer to her. And it turned out we had a lot of the same shit going on and she was so cool about it. I thought it was so cool that I felt alone and now had someone to relate to. She opened up about how she felt like her dad didn’t take enough of an interest in her and I was happy she felt comfortable disclosing that. I was also super surprised that she dealt with stuff too because I had created a conception of her freshman year as this perfect, beautiful, confident person with no problems, and expected her to adhere to that. I had prejudged her but I had no clue what she goes through.

Anyways it started off pretty good but started to go downhill for a few reasons. I felt like I was being too clingy and making it too serious. I felt like I always said the wrong thing and it was stressful. It was also awkward when we talked because I would facetime the original friend and talk about her and the conversations we were having. But I didn’t know my friend was facetiming her on her laptop and she was listening to us secretly. We also kept trying to make plans and she always canceled or didn’t really seem down. She faked being sick to get out of the ice skating. And all our plans were always also with our mutual friend. We had a plan to go to the movies, and my friend said she told her that she had to sit in the middle if we went. But I never really got mad because she had explained to me it’s hard for her because she has social anxiety. And we had only talked online. Our whole relationship was from behind a screen, and breaking that barrier by meeting up in person can be scary. My frustration with this is meant to help build up the resentment I have for social media that I talk about on a few other songs. Anyways the last straw came when she went to a hockey game and didn’t invite me and her friend even texted me and was like ouch I thought she invited you. So I got a tad angry, cuz I’m an emotional little weasel boy, and was like fuck it I’m done and blocked her on snap. Her friend told me to unblock her and I did and she explained that her anxiety was just too much to get over and she didn’t see herself doing it. But I never knew if that was really why because she started talking to someone else right after.

I thought you would save me

This song is about the idea of love and how we view it in an unrealistic and sometimes problematic way, specifically how we use it to give us false hope or pine after it as something that will fix our lives. Sophomore year I was super depressed due to the pressure I put on myself to get perfect grades in school. I was feeling really hopeless and thinking about ways that I could pull myself out of it. I thought about love and how it’s supposed to be this magical thing that makes you happy. I thought if I could find love it would fix my depression. So the idea I was trying to convey is that society created this idea of love through shows and movies and the pressure to get married. The idea is it’s this thing that everyone finds and it makes your life so much better. So at the time I believed that to be true. So when I started talking to her. I didn’t even have feelings for her, but I convinced myself that I could love her in the future. Even though I knew deep down that I couldn’t even have feelings for her, I wanted it so bad that I was actually able to trick myself into thinking I could love her. Just because having that hope, that possibility of getting better, made my pain so much more bearable. Which is why when it ended I was actually upset because I felt like I was hopeless again and it was my fault. Which is in hindsight maybe a bit-tad too much pressure to put on an ice skating date with a fellow 15 year old that my mommy was dropping me off at. So as we talked I interpreted everything that could be interpreted as reasons we’d be good together, as that. Mostly when we opened up to each other about stuff and I related to how she felt, I was like wow we really are compatible, when in reality we just had some of the same shit going on.

OMAD Interlude

Omad interlude is a transition to me talking about my eating disorder. This is relevant to the story because it’s important I was unable to believe that she would have any interest in me because she’s so much better than me. And the main thing that makes me so much worse than her in my mind is what I look like. This is where I introduce the idea that I started to doubt her intentions. Because there is no way that someone who looks like her holy-shit-this-album is-so-insane, could want someone who looks like me, it must be some sort of lie. My theories on how exactly her interest is not genuine will come up later. Uhhh, all the song is is a synth arpeggio that increases in speed and complexity while an excerpt from a textbook about self esteem that my therapist gave me plays in siri voice. Shoutout my therapist. He’s a cool dude. Terrible therapist, cool dude tho.

What I look like/nervosa3

So I tell the story of my eating disorder to explain how I started having such a low view of myself and how it effects how I view the world. So the first part of the song is me explaining that I don’t see how she could possibly be attracted to me and I don’t believe she is, it must be a lie. I say she must have had to defend my looks to her friend, which came from me seeing a tiktok where a girl was like yeah I literally had to defend my exes looks to my friends and I was like oh my god I would be that. I would be the guy you have to defend his attractiveness to your friends. Then I start telling the story of how I got to this point. My whole life I always knew I wasn’t attractive but I never really thought about it much or cared. I didn’t think it mattered that much. Then I got to high school and these girls in my class would call me ugly. But in that passive aggressive way where they’re “joking” so you can’t be mad but they’re really not. And I was like shit you know what I’m not gonna be ugly anymore. So I started running every day and eating healthy, and it worked. I got skinny, I could see my abs, I thought god didn’t give me those. For the first time in my life I felt confident. Then soccer season started and I didnt have the time or energy to run anymore. Then when it ended, I didn’t start again. And I gained the weight back. And then the pandemic started and I was like fuck it no one sees me anyway I’ll just eat what I want. And got fat. And i thought I could just lose it quickly before school started, but I didn’t know that losing weight you gained back is really difficult. Your body tries desperately to cling onto it. So I started getting into all this insane diet shit like counting calories and all these diet foods marketed as low calorie. I became obsessed with getting back to where I was as fast as possible. So I set my calories way too low and was so hungry every day. And sometimes I would cave and eat too many calories and then I would be like fuck it I already fucked up might as well make it worth it and binge eat, and then get full but still be obsessed with making the cheat worth it so I would keep eating past being full. And when I couldn't get my body how it was before it got worse and started a loop of extreme restriction and then extreme indulgence. I gained and lost 40 pounds like 4 times. I also tried to throw in some bo burnham type social commentary about tech companies and social media to sound smart. I mentioned how I keep getting ads for noom, which is a weight loss program. This is fucked up because instagram and youtube stored information about me to target this ad to me, and they knew that they were marketing a weight loss program to a teenager. I was 17 when I wrote this. My point is that they have no morals and target ads at you for money and don’t care about if it’s something that’s problematic for you to be seeing. There’s also a story about how during soccer season I tried the keto diet so I had no energy and would try to make up for not eating with an insane amount of caffeine. Like 10 scoops of preworkout. Did not go well. Yeah I felt crazy. It was kinda like my brain was moving and I was teleporting but in reality I could barely move. Shit is that what drugs are like. It’s named nervosa3 because of brakence.

Nervosa 4 rant

Nervosa 4 rant is all spoken word so you can just listen to it. It’s just me talking in more details about like how much dieting sucks and how important looks are in society.

High School Experience

High school experience is the story of my high school experience and my views on high school in general. This is included because it’s relevant to the story of me and the girl as well as how I viewed our relationship. So a summary of the story:

I was on and off in this friend group starting in middle school, but I would sometimes distance myself from it because I felt like the least liked least important one, the one no one really cared about. Like maybe I was just in it out of pity. And I felt like I was always excluded. Then high school started and the kids in it started caring about things like popularity. And I acted like a loud idiot, uh, always. So I felt like they were embarrassed of me. So when the pandemic started I just decided that I was done with it all and ghosted everyone. I was fine with this because I’ve always been introverted and liked being social but was fine without it. Then we started in person for junior year and I sat alone in every class. But in one class, a kid from the group sat next to me and I just couldn't not talk to him. I’m not sure why I just couldn't commit to being alone yet. It was too hard with him right there. And I didn’t want to be alone at lunch. It’s literally like an addiction where I go back and it’s kinda good and there’s some benefits but ultimately hurts me, because I don’t really feel like part of the group. Then one of the kids in the group told me he was having a party and that he didn’t want me to come because he was inviting girls that were popular. And it’s like I did it to myself by being an immature idiot but also that’s not a good friend. So for me that was confirmation that they were embarrassed of me and I isolated myself for the final time. And now I had no friends in real life, but still had all these digital friends on snapchat that I would never actually hangout with and I was like what’s the point of this shit if I don’t even have any actual friends. So I removed everyone I would never talk to, and that included the girl. Should I give her a fake name? Too late now. Then I talk about how there’s this idea that everyone should have friends and everyone around me tells me I need to meet people, but I feel like that’s not really true. Some people are totally fine without friends. Or is that just what I tell myself because I’m worried I can’t make friends. I also feel like I couldn't have friends just because it’s boring. All friendship is really is conversation, which is all the same few topics: work or school, other people, pop culture, and like sports. And I feel like we convince ourselves these conversations are more than they are because we need to fulfill our desire for human interaction so we trick ourselves into believing our nonsensical drivel has meaning to avoid the cold dark pain of loneliness. Let me know if this is an L take or not in the comments below. It’s the same with things to do, there’s like 3. Go to eat, shopping or a movie. Or sports games. Okay 4. There’s 4 things to do. And I don’t mean this in a high and mighty way where I look down on people who have friendships like this I’m actually jealous of them because friendship is great. I just don’t think I could have it. The rest of the song is me looking at this from the other perspective, wondering if I’m missing out. Maybe I would be happier with a normal high school experience. And what prompted this feeling was watching life pass me by on social media and watching everyone I know live the best years of their lives and hang out and do all these things while I’m always alone working on this fucking album. This one girl posts “photo dumps” on tiktok which is a compilation of pictures of all the fun things she did with her friends. Watching that did not make me feel very good. This is where I introduce the theme of my left brain vs my right brain. My left brain, which is more logical, is telling me I don’t want friends. But my right brain, which is more emotional, is telling me I want friends. Like I know deep down I wouldn’t enjoy having friends but the emotional part of my brain makes me want them. And then I finish off with more bo burnham shit about how social media is just a flexing competition of everyone trying to do the best things and have the most friends and look the best. And I also talk about how I’m not ready to grow

[ethernetmeep]

turns out this affair was postponed… worried sick over something which ended up not happening! still, it will. eventually. on friday, apparently

although my day was normal by all accounts, i was still worried sick about not being my own person or even worse appearing to act like others and pretending to be someone else. this grew to me being mad at myself once the bell signaling the end of lunch rang. i remember quietly muttering to myself “dude, its a jacket. tons of people wear jackets! its not a singular occurrence!”

..it was a blazer, but i do think the point still stands.. somewhat. im not sure. what i do know is that rationally in my mind a plethora of different people wear different clothing items; it would be like forbidding hoodies to be worn and only let them be worn by one singular person. still, i can be afraid of very specific things

i guess while on the topic, i also brought up this question to my english teacher of what one should do if they’re afraid they aren’t their own person. his response wasn’t helpful; no offense to his character or anything of the sort, i like him a lot, it just.. wasn’t helpful. still, i appreciated it deeply. im sure in reflecting a second time it’ll be more informative.

anyway, i guess what i mean to say is that im afraid i appeared mad or openly distant today. i mean.. i was distant, physically and a bit emotionally, because of how much i was dreading having to deal with both this scenario and a hypothetical. i was not prepared for both in one day. still, im especially afraid as for the mad aspect. i should note its extremely difficult to make me mad. a majority of the times i get mad are because of things people say about other people; insert those scenarios here, but the amount of times i get mad at others for how they treat me is abnormally low. i both think rationally and tend to be kind in scenarios. if not kind, at least hopeful. i still hope savanna is living decently and having a good life, despite the shit i went through. hoping she like, dealt with awful shit or something is not how i personally work. not to say thats a bad state of mind, do whatever you’d like i’d say, i just.. don’t really wish bad things. its not how i personally like to live.

i guess with all this in mind what i mean to state is that im not mad at anyone in any regard currently and don’t plan to be.. involving personal circumstances. (i hold an eternal hatred towards ernst haeckel for his ideas of eugenics, but thats for a different conversation.) i may be frustrated with certain events in my life, but only because of the events. not people. i don’t really hold grudges..

um i think thats all i kind of had to share, really. to uh. who knows. hi there hypothetical person!!!!!!! thank you for possibly reading my silly things. you are appreciated, if you are existent of course. even if you aren’t and im simply acting crazy at least im my normal self in overthinking

heres some bonus pictures btw. friend shaped slug in blazer pocket means the world to me..

took the photo of the textbook page simply cause i like the number. last photo is of a tiny sparkling pink heart i saw on the ground while on my walk home. both in an effort to get litter off of the ground and simultaneously liking the action of picking up things left behind, i took it. maybe it means something. maybe it doesn’t. i enjoy that it exists

sorry for being distant and offputting i have to deal with the bureaucratic agency again. i am dreading this affair

[goddess-of-green]

ꜰʀɪᴇɴᴅꜱ ɪɴ ᴜɴᴇxᴘᴇᴄᴛᴇᴅ ᴘʟᴀᴄᴇꜱ | 𝐍. 𝐊𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐞𝐝𝐚

(Synopsis: Servant comes back home to reader injured after looking for necessities. Reader patches him up and shows him the care that he deserves.)

this has been in the works for like. weeks because i spent way too long on the set up and then got into jdvn the day after i started writing it

Warnings: GN!Reader, MAJOR SDR2/MILD UDG Spoilers, takes place during UDG, it's a little angsty at first but it gets fluffy I promise, slightly graphic depictions of injury, use of nicknames/pet names (honey, hun), suggestive themes

You sighed, cleaning up for the third time that day. No matter what you did, the apartment still felt dirty. You supposed it couldn't be helped, given it was the apocalypse.

You'd been lucky to find such a large and secure shelter, but you still couldn't help but be dissatisfied with your current living conditions.

You wished Servant would come back. He made it much easier to take your mind off these things, even if he was a walking reminder of the tragedy. Being with him filled a void that you otherwise wouldn't be able to fill while the world was in such a state.

You had found him not long after the tragedy struck, and remembered him as an underclassman from Hope's Peak. He was much different now, but you couldn't help but seek some familiarity—some form of companionship at a time like this.

You pulled him from the kids that put a terrible collar and leash on him and treated him like a slave, but for some reason he still refused to give you his name, insisting that he was only a lowly servant and deserved to be addressed as such.

You also couldn't figure out how to get the collar off, to your dismay, but you tried your best to loosen it for him. You weren't very effective, but he appreciated the effort. More than you knew.

Most of your other classmates were either dead or missing, and your family was far out of the picture at this point. You truly had no one other than Servant left in the world.

Even for a maniac, Servant was weird. He had episodes often, and would zone out and get into hope and despair nearly every time you had a conversation with him, but he also had strangely lucid moments—moments where he seemed even more sane than you were.

Not that that was saying much, these days. This kind of lifestyle chips away at you. It's not really something you can ever acclimate to. Not after having lived "normally" for so long.

Servant was very intelligent, but his logic and philosophies had so many twists and idiosyncrasies that trying to understand it was like trying to untangle a wadded up ball of yarn.

Even if you managed to mostly untangle it, and straighten it out, it would be frayed and fuzzy and altered from what it once was. You believed the only one who could truly understand Servant, was Servant himself.

But you tried. For heaven's sake, you tried. You did your best to keep up with each twist and turn and curve ball he threw your way.

Because even if he was crazy, he was all you had.

And you didn't want to lose him.

He heavily insisted that you stay in the apartment at all times, he didn't even want you roaming around the complex. You'd been a bit indignant at first, telling him that you could protect yourself, and you knew what you were dealing with, but it didn't take much convincing in the end.

You quickly came to learn about Servant's ruthless luck cycle. It was highly active, which you assumed was in part due to the state of the world. Everyday something extremely odd and unexplainable happened to Servant—and usually you too, due to your proximity to him—either for better or for worse, and it wasn't something you could deny at this point.

Because of this, simply being involved with him was dangerous, and leaving the safety of the apartment could lead to injury or worse for you. Servant was also much more effective at foraging than you were, since his luck tended to grant him unique and useful finds.

You sometimes wished you could go with him anyway, just to make sure he was okay, but from what you'd observed, his luck seems to go to any length other than killing him. You knew about his illness, but he'd outlived his life expectancy by far, and while he wasn't in the greatest shape, he was certainly still up and running with tenacity.

There were times when Servant would have an episode so bad he'd become completely unaware of his surroundings, and be left extremely exhausted by the time he came out of it. You were worried something like that would happen to him, and leave him vulnerable while he was out on his own.

You had to remind yourself that he was a remnant, and he was much stronger than he looked.

Still, your mind could only run in circles as you sat alone in the apartment, completely stir crazy.

You tried your best to keep things as tidy and clean as possible, but there was only so much you could do.

Cooking was pretty much a fabled activity at this point. Though there was still food you were able to prepare, which you always tried to do for Servant.

From your understanding, he was meant to serve the children that had previously been holding him captive, but he was very poor at caring for them. Specifically, in food preparation.

Servant would spend the majority of the day exploring Towa City, trying to find anything that could help you two survive longer, or more comfortably, and you felt like you had to contribute something, given that you were stuck inside all day.

You almost felt like a little house spouse, in some fucked up, post-apocalyptic way.

It could have been your loneliness speaking, but you felt genuine care for Servant, and you wanted to do your best to make sure he was doing okay.

If it weren't for him, you probably wouldn't have lasted this long into the tragedy. Which was ironic, given that he was partially the cause for it.

Making your way through your tiny kitchen, you opened the cabinets and grabbed some non-perishable food.

Some dried fruit and vegetables, along with canned meat. It was by no means high dining, but it was certainly better than the scraps many others had to live off of.

Just before you cracked the first can open, the door burst open, making you flinch.

You knew in your mind, Servant was the only one that could make it this far into the complex without being caught or killed by the swarming Monokuma's, but the way the door slammed open worried you nonetheless.

Making your way over to the door, you gasped at the state you found him in.

He dropped a few bags on the floor, presumably things he'd gathered while he was out, but what you were more focused on was the red bleeding down his face as he lowered himself to the ground, looking close to passing out.

He smiled as you cupped his cheeks, looking over him quickly and trying to find where the blood was coming from.

"Heh, happy to see me? I really am lucky to have someone like you to come home to." He smiled casually.

You had pretty much gotten used to his nonchalant behavior towards tense situations, or sustaining serious injuries, but you didn't play into it.

"What happened?" Your search ceased as you found the gash on the top of his head, a bit past his forehead, turning his starch white hair red.

You hurried to pull him into the kitchen, pressing a cloth to his head and trying to stop the bleeding.

"Ah... I'm not sure I recall." Servant smiled, but grunted as you pressed against his wound.

Had he lost awareness like you feared? Or was he just being elusive? You wouldn't put it past him to think he was unworthy of talking about his troubles, or something.

Not that his answer particularly mattered to you. What you were worried about at the present time was treating him.

You grabbed his wrist, guiding him to hold the cloth against his head so you could step away to rummage through the cabinets.

You weren't lucky enough to have rubbing alcohol or hydrogen peroxide on hand, but you found a nearly empty bottle of nail polish remover in one of the bottom cabinets.

It would have to do.

You grabbed the bottle and made your way back to Servant, sitting him down on a chair and sitting next to him. You took the cloth from his head and folded it over, pouring the light purple substance onto the clean side of cloth and pressing it back to his head.

Servant hissed at the burn of chemicals against the open wound, and you bit your lip.

"Sorry... I'm sorry, honey." You murmured, the term of endearment falling from your lips subconsciously. "It'll be over soon, you're doing so good."

His shoulders untensed as you spoke soft words of encouragement, and brought your other hand up to rub his shoulder distractingly.

His skin was cold underneath his red and green sweater, and the collar of it was stretched enough that you were mostly touching his bare skin as you rubbed his shoulder.

Servant shuddered. (Knowing him, there was no real way to tell what caused him to do so.)

The bleeding was starting to stop, but you frowned at the streaks of blood that still ran down his face.

Servant looked pretty rough, which was normal, all things considered, but at times you couldn't help but look at him and think of how beautiful he was. How beautiful he must have been, before everything.

How his porcelain skin looked before it was tainted with blood, dirt and soot. How his fluffy hair looked before it was matted and bleach white.

How his smile looked before it was riddled with insanity.

You felt bad for Servant, and maybe that was what made you feel so attached to him. Maybe that was why you felt such an intense need to take care of him.

You sometimes found yourself wondering what things would've been like if you grew close with him under different circumstances. Or if you would have grown close at all.

Maybe you would have walked to class together, and ate lunch with each other, and had silly little sleepovers like teenagers do.

And maybe, if not for the tragedy, around this time you would have been living with him, attending a nice university and starting your lives together.

But there wasn't much use in thinking about things like that, was there? Because it was too late for something like that.

You couldn't help but wish you had cared a little more about the riots, and you found yourself wishing you'd paid that fluffy haired underclassmen a little more attention. Maybe things would be different if you had.

But hindsight was always 20/20.

You hadn't realized that you zoned out, and now the rag was completely red and Servant was staring at you curiously.

You pulled it from his head, standing up with a frown as you inspected the wound. "Sorry."

Servant smiled carelessly as your fingers brushed through his hair, trying to get a good look at the injury. "It's no problem at all, please don't waste your worries on a lowly Servant like myself."

Even after adjusting to staying with you, he never did let go of his role as a "servant". He insisted on doing his best to be of service to you.

In fact, you were sure the only reason he didn't object to you helping him was because he'd come to know how stubborn you could be.

There was no way you'd let him clean and dress his own wound when you were around, especially considering he looked a half a second from passing out when he came through the door.

You found it rather difficult to sift your fingers through his hair with how tangled and matted it was. His hair had always been wild and messy, but it seemed much worse than usual.

In fact, taking another look at him you found several things worse than usual. His sweater had new holes, he was littered with bruises and scratches, and he seemed to be faintly trembling-- though unsure shaking was somewhat normal for Servant.

You frowned, and Servant just watched your face contort as the gears in your mind turned, unbothered, but perhaps interested in your train of thought.

"What happened, honey?" You sighed finally, cupping his cheek. "You really don't remember?"

Servant nearly flinched at the contact, a shaky smile making its way onto his face as his cheeks bloomed red.

He leaned in, basking in your touch and closing his eyes, but he didn't answer.

You frowned, but simply went back to checking his wound.

You didn't have a very clear view of the gash, but the bleeding seemed to have stopped. However, you couldn't exactly dress it with all his matted hair in the way, and you doubted he'd let you cut it--if you even had the means to do so.

Well, I think the best I can do at the moment is to clean his hair so he doesn't infect the open wound, and then go from there.

"Alright, Servant. Can I wash your hair?" You asked, standing up.

He looked up at you for a moment, eyes round as coins, and you started to wonder if he'd heard you.

He smiled just before you could repeat yourself however, and jumped up with a pink face. "Of course! You can do anything you want to me. I am your servant, after all." He stared at you with lidded eyes.

You weren't sure you liked the way he said that, but you just grabbed his hand gently and led him to the apartment's one small bathroom.

It was a little narrow, so you had Servant sit down on the toilet while you attempted to run a bath.

The water pressure was funky, and it wasn't exactly clear, but it was clean enough for bathing. You didn't have enough disinfectant for all of his little cuts and abrasions, and you didn't want to risk leaving them untended when he was so careless--even with his luck ensuring his life would remain intact.

He sat relatively straight with his hands folded in his lap as he watched you fill the tub and mess with the temperature (warm wasn't really an option, but you did your best for something less than cold) and as you glanced back at him you thought he looked more put together than he had in quite some time.

Even in his more lucid moments, Servant never seemed like he was all the way there, but as he gazed at you with focused eyes, you found you wouldn't think him anything other than a normal boy if not for his wretched appearance.

Maybe it was some kind of psychotic reverse, you considered. A crazy person gets a bonk on the head and suddenly they can think straight.

That was more of just a silly thought, though. You sincerely doubted a severe head wound would even be enough to make Servant normal.

Turning away from the bath as you let it fill up, you helped Servant by pushing his leather jacket off his shoulders and tugging the ripped sweater up over his head. He shivered a bit as his torso was met with the cool air, but made no comment.

You wordlessly left the room to look for soap. You were fairly certain there weren't any skincare products or conditioner lying around, but maybe if you were lucky you'd find some body wash and shampoo.

You found some antibacterial hand soap after a little digging, which you supposed was better than nothing. The soap would be good for his injuries, at least. You grabbed a large cup from the kitchen and made your way back to Servant.

When you reentered the bathroom, you found that Servant had shucked off his pants and slid into the tub while you were gone. Modesty wasn't really a big deal anymore, but you still found yourself slightly relieved that he'd fully undressed on his own.

Noting that the bath had filled to an acceptable volume, you turned off the faucet and set the soap on the edge of the tub.

"Okay, can I wash your hair for you?" You asked, just to be sure.

Servant nodded slowly, but his expression was very eager. "Anything you'd like to do to me, as I said before, you may. Wash me, hold me, hit me, kill me..." He started to stare off into space, and if you didn't know any better you'd think he was fantasizing.

You sighed, scooping up some water with the cup and pouring it over Servant's head. "I'd never hurt you or kill you, hun. Not if I could help it."

Servant smiled, face red and something suspiciously akin to drool running down his chin, but you told yourself it was just water as you poured more over his head.

"Even in such despairing times as these, you're able to show kindness and benevolence. You don't resort to violence and despair when the world is running on it. You're so, so beautiful." He gazed at you with loving eyes, and against your better judgement, your heart fluttered.

You knew he was talking about your "hope" and not your outward appearance when he called you beautiful, but he'd made it clear on multiple occasions that he didn't find you unattractive.

Sometimes you felt like the only thing that kept you from falling in love with Servant was your sanity.

But that didn't mean you didn't care for him.

When you determined his hair was adequately wet and flat, you pumped some of the hand soap into your hand and started to scrub at his scalp.

Servant's eyes fluttered closed in what appeared to be relaxation at the feeling, and you realized he was probably extremely exhausted from his trip. You did your best to avoid catching tangles in his hair and clean him quickly so that he wouldn't fall asleep in the tub.

If there was one thing more troublesome than Servant, it was an incapacitated Servant.

You were gentle around the open wound, but still made sure to get it clean, feeling bad as Servant's brows furrowed in discomfort.

Once you'd finished lathering his hair, you picked up the cup once more and poured the water over his head. You had him tilt his head back so as not to get any soap, water, or blood in his eyes.

Running your hands through his hair, you smiled a little as it wasn't dirty and oily like before. It was still fairly tangled, but at least it was (relatively) clean now.

You leaned back and nudged the bottle of hand soap so it would enter Servant's field of vision. "Would you like to do the rest on your own?" You asked.

Servant's eyes opened sluggishly and the soft shade of red on his cheeks seemed to fade a little as he eyed the bottle. A brief frown tugged at his lips, but he didn't object.

"Of course, I have troubled you quite enough." He smiled.

You shook your head, exasperated as you pressed a kiss to his wet cheek. "You haven't. Call for me when you're done, okay?"

He blushed, nodding and watching you as you picked up his sweater and left the bathroom.

You examined his sweater more thoroughly once you entered the living room. Somehow it was his only article of clothing to sustain damage, but it happened so often it was just as troubling as if all his clothes were being shredded.

You did your best to patch up the holes in the fabric with a little sewing kit, but the sweater was definitely on its last legs. You needed to find something else for him to wear, lest he have to go out in nothing but his ill-fitting leather jacket.

Regretfully, you blushed at the thought, but put it out of your mind immediately. Not only was it impractical, but it was unsafe.

Still, you didn't have a fresh wardrobe of clothes in his size conveniently around. The sweater would have to do until you or him came across a suitable replacement.

Once you finished, you figured Servant was nearly done bathing. You picked up the sweater and one of the few towels in the apartment before going to the bathroom.

You knocked, but were met with no response, so you pushed open the door to find Servant staring vacantly at the ceiling.

As you approached the tub, he slowly turned to look at you. It seemed to take him a moment to process that you were there.

"Ah, Y/N! You came back!" He smiled, seemingly excited.

You looked down at him. "Are you done? You didn't call."

"Hm? What do you mean?" He looked up at you with a pleasant smile.

You sighed. There was something wrong with him.

"Alright, well come on. It's time to get out." You felt more like his mother than anything.

Oblivious to your thoughts, he nodded and unclogged the drain before standing up.

You handed him the towel and turned away politely, folding his clothes on the counter and setting the sweater with them.

"Once you finish getting dressed, come to the bedroom, okay? I'm going to put a bandage over your wound and brush your hair out."

You looked to him for confirmation and he smiled, drying his body with the towel. "Okay."

Leaving, you searched around for some bandages that would cover the whole injury. Luckily, you had a decent amount of dressings. At least Servant's luck was good for something.

Grabbing the box, you headed back to your shared room and grabbed the hairbrush off the dresser.

Within a few minutes, Servant pushed open the door to the bedroom and shuffled in. Sitting down next to you on the bed, he leaned in to hug you.

"Huh? What's this for?" You asked in surprise. Despite his apparent liking for affection, it was rare for Servant to actually initiate physical contact.

"You fixed my sweater." He smiled.

"You're so corny." You gave him a look, but wrapped your arms around him anyway.

After a moment, you realized Servant was content to stay in your arms until you told him otherwise, so you patted his back. "Come on, sit up. I need to put this bandage on you."

With what sounded like a mild noise of protest, he slowly sat up and faced you.

Brushing and lifting his tangled hair out of the way as best you could, you pressed the bandage over his wound.

Once you were sure it was affixed, you let go of his hair and leaned back. "Okay. Now turn around."

Obediently, Servant moved to readjust himself on the bed so that he was facing away from you.

Picking up the hairbrush, you grabbed the ends of his tangled--but now clean--hair and gently started to run the brush through it. You took care to make sure you didn't tug on his scalp, or pull out any of his hair.

Despite your carefulness, you noticed a lot of hair shedding into the brush, but it seems that Servant isn't in pain, at least.

Quite the opposite, in fact. As you run the brush through his hair as gently as possible, he seems rather relaxed. He's quiet, and he leans his body back against yours.

What you can't see is that his eyes are closed and his face is pink, but maybe that's for the better.

It takes quite a while to ease the brush through every little tangle and all the angry knots, and you notice Servant's hair gaining a lot of volume as you brush it out, but you persevere. Even though you're pretty sure his hair will be big enough to cover his entire face by the time you're done.

You've been brushing his hair for well past 20 minutes at this point, and he's been quiet practically the whole time, you're even starting to wonder if he fell asleep.

You wouldn't be very surprised if he had, he seemed to have a rough go of it when he was out foraging, and he was probably exhausted.

As you finish brushing through the last section of his hair, you run the brush through it to make sure you really got out all the tangles, and sit back.

Your back hurts from the odd posture you kept the whole time you were brushing his hair, but before you lay down to ease the discomfort, you want to put on the finishing touches.

You attempt to tuck his hair behind his ear, but it just falls back out.

Humming, you think for a moment, before standing up suddenly.

Servants grunts a bit as you get up, sitting up to right himself as he'd been leaning most of his weight on you the whole time.

It seems he hadn't quite been asleep, but very close to it; in that relaxing half-conscious period as you begin to doze off.

You grabbed some cutesy little barrets of the dresser, clearly meant for little kids, but they'd do their job.

You pin the little rainbow glitter barrettes to the three sections of his hair that fall into his face, effectively pinning them back.

You didn't want his now extremely fluffy hair to obscure his vision, and maybe having his hair back would prevent it from getting tangled again so fast.

Satisfied with your work, you smiled at the girly little hair clips and Servant's sleepy face. Usually he'd be running his mouth endlessly at such attentions, but it seems he could barely keep himself up right at the moment.

You felt similarly, tired not just from taking care of Servant, but the world around you, and taking a nap sounded like the best thing right now.

"Come on, you should get some rest now, Servant." Lightly, you pushed his shoulders so that he'd lay down, which he did so without protest, snuggling his face into the flat pillow at the head of the bed and letting his eyes finally drift shut completely.

Laying down next to him, you got comfortable as well, sighing at the feeling of weight being lifted off your back as you laid against the soft (well, soft by today's standards,) mattress.

Feeling you settle in next to him, Servant wrapped an arm around your waist, pulling you in towards him and pressing his face into you.

Usually, such close contact would have embarrassed you, but you were too tired at the moment to do anything other than appreciate it.

You wrapped your arms around him in turn, and felt genuinely at peace as you drifted off.

--

Thanks for reading! I don't usually do notes at the end of a oneshot but I had some stuff to say about this one.

The whole fic is meant to kind of have a looming sense of dysphoria due to the dystopian setting, since it takes place after the tragedy and while class 77-b is essentially insane. However, I also did my best to make the soft moments outshine that.

What Reader said about Komaeda being the only one to understand himself is true to an extent I believe, but the reader is unaware of Izuru Kamukura's existence. I think Kamukura definitely has the capacity to truly understand Komaeda. Ordinarily though, Komaeda is so contradictory and strange that anyone would have trouble psychoanalyzing him.

Also, I know that Komaeda was with the Warriors of Hope for his own reasons, but for plot purposes it's just more convenient that he was forced to be their Servant.

[fruitydemogorgon]

Update on Stranger Things Social Media Content

Okay, so at this point we all know about David Harbour's 3 os, and how they signified 3 days, well I've found quite a few more os littered amongst the myriad of posts we've gotten recently.

Here's David's original clue:

Along with the 001 poster, he also posted the group poster with the caption...

That's 7 os, posted yesterday.

Meanwhile, Netflix's current description is this:

4 os, probably updated a day or so ago too.

So far, that's (possibly) something in 7 days and 4 days...

Caleb Mclaughlin captioned this post with 'Tick-tock 🕷'. The 'Tick-tock' makes sense, but why the spider? Stranger Things has never had any kind of relation to spiders, except for the slight resemblance between spiders and the Shadow-Monster.

Maybe, if the characters do end up going back in time, they're each revisiting a certain part of ST, and Lucas is going to the time when the Shadow-Monster was relevant.

Every comment made by actors/tv crew would be highly monitored, so we can't simply ignore anything.

Stranger Things also commented this on Caleb Mclaughlin's post, saying 'time is TICKING alright'. The phrase 'time is ticking', is generally to say there is not much time left for something to happen. I'm not sure what this could mean, but maybe Stranger Things is releasing something soon, and they're working on the final edits of it (henceforth, time is ticking because they have a planned release date- I think in either 4 or 7 days).

Overall, I think it's very likely we're getting more content soon!

There's also this interaction...

As I stated earlier, neither Noah nor Finn would be allowed to post anything Stranger Things related without it being reviewed by their managers and the ST crew.

The 4L makes sense; 'Brochachos 4L', but the three crossed fingers do not. Caleb and Noah have both used quite confusing emojis. Fingers crossed like that usually symbolise wishing for something. Noah posted, 4L, followed by three wishing emojis. Could this be linking to Byler (i.e. ____ for life)?

In Mike and Will's goodbye scene, the conversation goes like this:

How this could have been rephrased:

MIKE

Woah. Dude, that's the donation box.

WILL

I know. I'll just use yours when I come back. I mean, if you still wanna be friends?

MIKE

Yeah, but what if you find another best friend (Brochacho)?

WILL

Never. (We're best friends - Brochachos - for life)

It's almost telling us that Mike and Will are going to be best friends for life. And that Will wishes nothing will ever come between them.

It's also similar to the crazy together scene.

This interaction really just feels like a bond that will last forever. A promise that will be unbreakable.

The two have already hinted about Byler in fanmios, so doing it in a comment section wouldn't be too surprising.

Anyways, in general I'm pretty sure we're going to get something in within the next week- hopefully the proper trailer!

As always, hope you're doing well! And happy stranger things watching :)

[drabbles-of-writing]

A Little Kindness: Chapter Eight

AO3 Explanation of AU

Chapters: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 9, 10, 11

Summary:  In which Raine meets Hunter years before canon, and decides that a kid like him could use all the help he could get with an uncle like Belos. Even if they couldn't go much, they could try something, couldn't they? Years down the line, Raine is exposed as a traitor to the Emperor's Coven, and they are bound by the brand on their own wrist. Hunter notices. And as to be expected, he has more than a few complaints. It's not a big surprise on who he goes to for help.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 

Hunter woke up with his face smooshed against the floor and a dozen or so puddles across his room, soaking into his bones. He swore sometimes the world got a kick out of inconveniencing him.

Were it not for that, or glyphs he still had, or the lingering ache in his back, he almost would’ve thought the whole thing had been a crazy dream. How he wished.

He sat up, ignored the flare of pain, grabbed his uniform, and was promptly put out with the guards without any fanfare. Like clockwork, he got to ordering them to search the streets, to send calls to stations outside of Bonesborough, in search of Lilith and the missing Head Bard. It was an overall rather typical day.

His body was sore, and he wanted nothing more than to sleep for a week. This was fairly normal, but considering how much work he’d gone through in the last few days, the lack of sleep he’d been getting was not helping his current state.

As much as he wanted to drop everything and run back to that shack in the woods, he knew he was on thin ice. Normally, Belos would leave him alone for a few days after he messed up as bad as this, to make him think about his actions, he supposed. But he was no fool, and he knew that Belos would be checking in with scouts and their captains if he was doing his work. He couldn’t leave. He had work to do.

It was easy, really, to throw himself into work and forget about everything else. He could almost pretend that he wasn’t committing multiple acts of treason for someone he’d barely had a conversation with. He’d gone this long without questioning himself on why he was so quick to risk everything for someone who'd only shown him kindness through notes and gifts, and he wasn’t about to now.

If he’s lucky, when all of this is over, he’d never have to think about any of it ever again. 

 ,

 So he didn’t visit for that first day, or the second, or the third. He waited, and worked.

They found one other hideout of the BATs, but all that was left in it were layouts of plans that had long since gone through and old, broken supplies. They had yet to find where Lilith had gone off to. Either she was better at hiding than they thought, or she’d found someone who knew what they were doing. Course, she could’ve left the cities altogether, but Hunter knew from personal experience that Lilith would rather keel over than rough it outside the main cities.

On the fourth day, patrols ended just an hour before dusk. Other preparations were being made for the Day of Unity, and the Golden Guard was dismissed from conversation. He would not be needed till morning. On any other day, this might have insulted him.

That night, he loosely wore his under armor, his back still somewhat stinging from the burns, and one of his dirtier cloaks without any shoulder armor. He kept his mask tucked tightly away, and debated on if he should bring his staff at all.

He settled on yes, just in case. He used that staff to fly out of his window in the dimming sky, keeping as low as he dared. The route to the Owl House could be entirely through the woods if you wanted, so that's what he decided on. It was good practice anyway, weaving between the trees and dodging stray branches. Relying on his teleportation was a bad habit to make.

When he did break free from the tree line, eyes immediately landing on the Owl House and forcing him to screech to a halt, he got the feeling it was all too late and much too soon.

He really didn’t want to deal with the door demon, but he figured they probably wouldn’t take too kindly to him breaking in through a window. So instead he squared his shoulders, shared a glance with his palisman atop his shoulder, and hopped off his staff and onto the ground at the edge of the clearing.

His and Belos’s staffs both had a mechanism that retrated the rod, making transport of them much easier, though he rarely used his. He tucked it away now, into the pocket lining of his cloak as he approached the house, ears pressed back.

“Alright, this won’t be that hard.” He reasoned, more to himself than anything. His palisman chirped from his shoulder all the same. “Just pop in, check on Raine, give them all some warnings, and leave. Simple four-step stuff. And if they want to make it more complicated, then--”

Something suddenly shot towards him out of the corner of his eye, and he whirled around with a growl and raised hands for barely half a second before he had something wrapped around his body, limbs pinned to his sides and constricting air out of him. It pressed against the burns across his back, causing him to hiss and try to wriggle away, but it only clung tighter.

“Oh. there you are!” A shrieky voice said.

Hunter glared towards the voice, already having figured it out pretty quickly from that alone. Hooty smiled down at him, cheery as ever, despite a fair portion of his weird worm body being wrapped around Hunter.

“Put me down.” He growled, baring fangs.

“Mmm, see that kind of depends,” Hooty said, turning his head this way and that, and in turn also shaking Hunter around like a bad rattle. “I know Eda let you in last time, but she also said not to let anyone from the Emperor’s Coven in, so!” Hooty then brought his face uncomfortably close to Hunter’s, and he jerked his head back with a low, warning growl. “Why are you here, then?”

“I’m here,” Hunter gritted out, aware of his palisman chittering madly somewhere, likely wrapped up elsewhere in the tangle. “To see Raine. Now put me down or I’ll bite that beak off!”

“Oooh, you’re mean.” Hooty said, almost sounding a little delighted, and definitely contemplative. “I think you’d get along with Amity. She’s mean, too. But Luz likes her and made her promise not to beat me up anymore. Oh, oh! I should introduce you!” Hooty perked up, and Hunter nearly went upside down. “Good friends do that, right? They introduce people they think would get along? I should ask Lilith about that.” He hummed thoughtfully.

“Did you say Lilith?” Hunter tilted his head, right before he heard the sound of the door opening.

“Hooty,” A tired voice said. “What did I say about yammering on to trespassers? You do it away from the house.”

Hunter tried to crane his head back towards the front door, only resulting in further scratching his back along Hooty’s long body and flinching with a drawn-out hiss.

“Oh, Eda, Eda!” Hooty said, turning his head around and, in turn, Hunter. “I found the sad, angsty kid!”

Hunter felt like his brain was rattled around for a moment from the sudden shift, shaking his head to clear it as the front door came into focus. Sure enough, the Owl Lady stood in the doorway, looking either like she had just woken up, or was about to go to sleep, either was entirely possible for this woman.

She blinked in surprise, one ear flicked up when she realized who Hooty had wrapped up.

“So, you did decide to turn up again.” Eda said, leaning on the doorway. “We were starting to think you ditched us halfway through.”

“I just might.” Hunter huffed, sending a glare towards Hooty. “Tell him to put me down or I’m putting a dent in him.”

“Good luck,” Eda raised a brow. “Hooty, put the kid down. Just let me know whenever he shows up before you let him in next time.”

Hooty promptly dropped Hunter, who landed face-first on the ground.

“I never should have come back.” He groaned into the dirt, feeling a familiar bird land by his arm and press at it.

“Well, we’re happy to hear you did, anyway.” Eda shrugged, waving off Hooty trying to add more to the conversation. “Hey, kids! Blondie made it back alive.” She called somewhere behind her, and Hunter looked up in time to see a familiar fluffy black tail disappear behind the doorway to the kitchen, and an offered hand in his face.

“Back burns wouldn’t have killed me.” Hunter said, eyeing the hand and then looking up to Eda’s face, who looked...well, very worn, but still smiling.

“No, but it sure looked like you were about to burst all your blood vessels.” Eda shrugged. “You gonna get up or what?”

Hunter looked over her hand for another moment, twitching his hand, then hesitantly reaching out to take it. Eda only smiled, pulling him to his feet as he brushed himself off before the dirt and grass could stain his attire.

“I think that’s just an occupational hazard of being around you people for too long.” He muttered, his cardinal fluttering up onto his uninjured shoulder, where the scabbing from Belos’s punishment was still fresh. He tugged his cloak closer around himself, tightly wound around him like a shield.

“You’ve got a terrible tolerance for people, you know that?” Eda hummed, stepping aside as Hunter pushed his way in.

And almost immediately, his eyes snapped to the couch. Sure enough, Raine was still there.

They were laid on their back, arms folded across their abdomen in a way that gave him a disturbing feeling of looking at a corpse.

He got the impression they’d ransacked another old BATs base, because what Raine was dressed in looked mildly similar to what they’d previously been wearing, but significantly cleaner, less torn.

Amber and Derwin were there, he realized only moments later. Amber was sitting on her knees by the arm of the couch where Raine’s head was, with Derwin stood by Raine’s side. Both looked a little startled, staring right at him with wildly contradicting expressions of distrust and curiosity, respectfully.

“Did you find anything?” Hunter asked, immediately gravitating towards them.

“Nothing of much use,” Derwin shrugged, taking a small step aside as Hunter approached. “Raine hasn’t responded to anything. We had some ideas but...we didn’t want to accidentally make anything worse if you knew something.” He admitted.

“If he knows anything.” Amber grumbled.

Hunter’s ears flicked down, and his palisman side eyed him. Alright, so maybe he should’ve waited an extra day to gather more intel. Should’ve asked more questions about Raine when his uncle wasn’t in such a sour mood. For once, his dedication to work and only work came back to bite him in the ass.

“Where’s Luz?” He asked instead, because he could at least rely on using her to change the conversation, should things start going south.

“Off at the library with her friends and Katya.” Eda said, leaning against the wall. “They were hoping to find anything on Raine there. For a second time.”

“Well, that was pointless,” Hunter snorted, eyes darting to the windows. Alright, no Luz, but he’d worked in trickier spots. “Belos has purged hundreds of books from those libraries he didn’t want the public knowing about.”

Eda gave him a bit of an odd look, a frown crossing her face before she pushed herself off the wall, expression turning to one of simply anxious concern, like nobody had seen what it’d previously been. He noted that down for later.

“Did you find anything, then?” Eda asked.

“I, well,” Hunter fumbled slightly, ears pressed down and sharing a glance with his palisman.

“I knew it, I told you he wouldn’t have anything.” Amber muttered, her ears falling back as Derwin gave her a glare.

“Hey, he had his back flayed off!” Derwin defended. “Give him a break.”

“And he couldn’t find anything in three days? But still find the time to come back here?” Amber gestured to a bristling Hunter. “He’s the Coven Head!”

“Alright, cool your jets, kid.” Eda said, stopping at the other end of the couch and giving her a slightly scolding look. “I’m worried, too. But him not having anything now doesn’t mean he won’t ever have anything.”

He chose not to focus on the way her hand was gripping the arm of the couch, nails near puncturing holes in it. Or Derwin’s worried hold on Raine’s arm. This is fine, he still had some useful information, they wouldn’t kick him out just yet.

“Well, are,” He started instead, because Titan-forbid an awkward silence. “Is Raine stabilized?”

“For now,” Derwin nodded, looking down at them. “They...I don’t know if Raine was fed at all, to be honest.”

Flashes of rib cages jutting through skin went through Hunter’s mind, and he was grateful then that it’d only been a week. Raine was always thin, but now he wondered if the bony knobs on their wrists and fingers were always there or not.

“Can’t get them to chew anything, either.” Eda added, gazing down worriedly at them. “So we’ve had to get by with soup. King ate your candy bar when we realized they couldn’t eat it.” She said, fixating a glare somewhere behind Hunter.

“Well, he wasn’t going to eat it!” 

Hunter looked back over his shoulder, spotting King in the doorway to the kitchen, currently cramming a cookie in his mouth, glaring right back at Eda.

“Whatever, I don’t care,” Hunter waved a hand. “The important part is that Raine is alive, and we can keep them that way.”

He felt a little bad when he saw Eda and the others tense at bit at his words, mood visibly souring. Right, tact, he had to work on his tact.

“And anyway,” He said, gazing down at Raine before deciding better of it. The sight of them was unnerving enough, and he already almost felt like he was at some shabby funeral. “I may not know much right now, but I know someone who might.”

That caught their attention fast, a sort of cautious hopefulness. It was an odd feeling, being looked at like that, and he raised a hand to draw it through his cardinal's feathers, aware of King hurrying in somewhere behind him.

“And, let me just preface this by saying,” He started slowly, giving Eda a wary look. “That I’m not happy about this option, either.”

“Is it Warden Wrath?” Amber grimaced, face scrunching up.

“Worse,” Hunter grumbled, beginning to hunch his shoulders before a dull pain spiked through it and he aborted the movement halfway through. He sighed then, turning fully to face Eda with a tired, resigned expression. “Do you, by chance, happen to know where Lilith is?”

Eda blinked at him for a moment. Then she raised a brow, glancing around like she thought this was some poor joke.

“Yeah? Why? How could Lily know any of this, if you don’t? She had the same job as you.”

“For far longer than me,” Hunter reminded. “While discussing Raine’s escape, Belos told me to send out guards to search for Lilith, or at the very least, dissuade her from showing her face or going anywhere near here. Which probably means she knows something.”

“The Covens hunting down Lily?” Eda exclaimed, suddenly standing bolt upright and startling the other.

“I wouldn’t say hunting down,” Hunter tried slowly, confusedly eyeing the witch. “More of…keeping an eye out. Honestly, considering how long it's taking to find her, I doubt we ever will.”

“And you think she can help?” Derwin reiterated as Eda hurriedly strode to the other side of the room, pulling out her scroll from her pocket.

“Not to ruin this, but,” King raised a paw, pulling himself onto the coffee table. “How do we know you're not just telling us this so we’ll find Lilith for you?” 

Eda paused then, not turning around, but one ear pricked up, listening. Hunter didn’t look at her out of politeness more than anything. These people had to work on their subtlety. 

“For one thing, if it weren’t for the attempted murder, I’d hate Lilith more than Kiki.” Hunter said calmly. “I’d happily sabotage search missions for her if it meant I never had to see her again, but I’m already on thin ice. For another, I’m not stupid enough to trick you all in this maner and expect to come out unscathed.”

“That implies you’re tricking us in other ways.” 

“Well aren’t you paranoid?” Hunter gave Amber a mildly annoyed glance. “Are we getting Lilith or not? I’m willing to make the sacrifice to interact with her again if it means she can help Raine.” He gestured with a hand towards the witch on the couch, who he still couldn’t really look in the face.

“We’ve got defense measures, anyway.” Eda said, still not turning around as she dialed a number on her scroll. “Kid can just sit tight till Lilith arrives.”

“You have her phone number?” Hunter raised a brow.

“Don’t tell Hooty, otherwise he’ll steal it.” Eda warned, waving a hand behind her as she brought the scroll to her ear. “And, again, why wouldn’t I?”

Hunter raised a brow, looking to King, who still seemed a little suspicious, but mostly unconcerned as he sat down on the coffee table, legs dangling off. He didn’t get why they just allowed demons on the table, but he figured this was the least of his problems.

“Don’t you hate her?” He squinted over at Eda.

“...is this about the curse thing?” Eda narrowed her eyes back at him.

“Yes?” Hunter glanced around, meeting Derwin’s eyes for a moment before he shrugged and turned away. “Practically the whole Emperor’s Coven saw your fight on the bridge, it was all the scouts talked about for weeks.”

Eda cringed a bit at that, turning her head slightly towards him as her scroll continued to ring.

“Yeah that was...a thing. We’re alright now, though.” Eda said, shrugging like it was the most normal thing in the word to still be in contact with your sister who cursed you.

Hunter gave the others incredulous looks, of which Amber and Derwin were no help and King just stared blankly back.

“How the hell are you--”

“Lily!” Eda suddenly said, far too cheerful to be normal, the call finally connecting through. “Hey, so, sorry to cut the bonding time with Mom short, but we need you to visit. No, it doesn’t involve Hooty.”

“Should I ask?” Hunter pointed with a thumb over to Eda as she spoke, keeping his voice quiet so as not to interrupt. 

“It’s a whole thing.” King said simply. “Which, actually, I’ve been meaning to ask,” King began swinging his legs over the edge of the table. “How come you and Lilith hate each other so much? She mentioned you once and got really mad that you were promoted.”

“I’m only sad that I missed it.” Hunter said, a small grin forming on his face, picturing the sight of Lilith seeing him on the posters, knowing that he’d taken her prized spot. “But, to answer your question, it’s more of a rivalry type thing. Lilith couldn’t stand someone threatening her rank, and she knew how close I was to Belos. Though, to be honest, I much rather preferred her passive-aggressive attempts to get under my skin than Kikimora’s murder attempts.” He shrugged.

“She’s tried to murder you before?” Derwin paled.

“What, are you like, Emperor Belos’ pet?” Amber said at the same time.

“Throughout basically my entire life, and no.” Hunter answered, sending a glare Amber’s way. “I was the prodigy of the Coven, and he greatly appreciated my work.” He said. Belos kept the fact he had a nephew well within the confines of the few in the Coven for a reason, thank you very much.

“Your parents gotta be rich off your Golden Guard job, huh?” Amber scoffed, raising a brow.

“No to the parents, and to the payment.” Hunter brushed off, leaning against the arm of the couch and ignoring the very surprised looks he received. “Anyway, on Lilith, it was mostly a rivalry on her part. She felt threatened by my general existence and would try to prove herself doubly hard if I was ever around. It was pathetic, really, but I got into the rivalry anyway. It was one of my biggest sources of entertainment.” He chuckled, only now looking over at them.

Derwin and Amber shared a look, and Derwin absently brushed Raine’s messy hair to the side. He noticed they were still wearing their earring, and was a little miffed they hadn’t taken that off. What if it got caught on something?

“Do you...live in the Coven?” Derwin asked slowly, giving him an odd look.

“Why are we circling back to this?” Hunter sighed, rolling his eyes. “Yes, I live in the Coven. It’s not a new concept, some witches live in the Coven as well. Easy commutes to work and less tax pay will do that to you.”

“You still have to pay taxes in the Coven?”

“I don’t,” Hunter corrected King. “The others do. Again, I’m not paid.”

“That...is that technically child labor if he’s not paid?” Amber asked Derwin, squinting.

“It’s not child labor--”

“Yeah, and hurry it up, will you?” Eda’s scroll conversation drifted back in as she wandered back towards the kids. “Heard that the Emperor’s Coven is looking for you. Don’t want you getting captured on your way over.”

There was a sudden spike in worry shouting through the scroll, but Eda only calmly moved it away from her ear and hung up, shoving it back into her pocket.

“Alright, she’ll show up sometime tonight. Think you’ll survive the wait?” Eda asked, one hand on her hip as she looked down.

“Unless Lilith lives five cities over, I think I will.” Hunter drawled. “I just need to be back before dawn.”

“Fantastic. Have you eaten?” Eda asked, clapping her hands together as she turned on her heel, off towards the kitchen.

“Why is that what we’re changing the topic to?” Hunter raised a brow.

“Because you’ve refused food before, and I plan to rectify that.” Eda said over her shoulder, already turning the corner into the kitchen. “It’s a yes or no question, blondie.”

“Don’t call me that,” He muttered, one ear flicking. “I don’t need your charity food.”

“I’m giving you chips.”

“I do not want your chips, they’re probably moldy.” Hunter scrunched up his face.

“You’ll live.”

“All the moldy ones are at the back, anyway.” Amber said breezily, and Hunter whirled his head to her.

“I–she actually has moldy–?”

Something soft hit him in the head, and Hunter jolted, his palisman squawking and fluttering down onto the coffee table as he fumbled for whatever hit him. He paused, lifting it up and realizing it was a small bag of chips.

“Feast,” Eda snarked from the doorway to the kitchen, a lazy smile on her face.

Hunter glared at her for a moment, then sighed, slowly sitting down on crossed legs and leaning against the couch. He figured that if they were moldy, he’d feed them to King. Or throw them back at Eda.

“We’ve tried a couple ideas while you were gone,” Derwin filled the silence as Hunter tore open the bag, pleased to see the chips were not, in fact, moldy. “We tried poking at the vines with some sharp objects to see if we could cut at them.”

“Are they impenetrable?” Hunter asked, not looking up as he hesitantly took a nibble of the chip, ignoring the judging look King was giving him.

“No, but they are pretty tough.” Derwin said. “And they bled when pierced.”

Hunter paused at that, halfway through shoving the chip in his mouth. He turned to Derwin, and his concern must’ve been evident, because Derwin only thinned his mouth.

“Yeah, we’re pretty sure they’re intertwined with Raine’s veins.” He said. “So we decided not to cut them out.”

“...good call,” Hunter said cautiously, deciding it was safe to eat the chip.

“They’re completely unresponsive,” Eda added, and Hunter looked up as she leaned on the wall beside the couch, just behind Amber, face pinched. “No matter what we try, not a twitch. Even the whole hitting the knee trick doesn’t cause them to react.”

“Definitely connected to the nervous system, then.” Hunter hummed thoughtfully. “Likely affecting the brain, too. Have we tried giving them any commands like Kikimora?” He asked, looking up.

“Haven’t done a thing,” Amber shook her head. 

“In that case,” Hunter said, popping another chip in his mouth. “I’m willing to bet that Kikimora is the only one who can give commands that Raine would obey. I’m not even sure if Emperor Belos would be able to, she’s not stupid enough to give up the one thing that makes her irreplaceable to the Coven.”

Eda visibly paled at that, ears pressed tightly against her head. Amber and Derwin didn’t look much too pleased either, Amber slowly settling a hand on Raine’s shoulder, leaning her head against the arm of the couch. He didn’t check to see what King’s reaction was.

He wondered if it was a good thing or not that his appetite didn’t falter, when he realized what this could imply for the future.

“So, basically,” Hunter said, glancing away. “Kikimora’s going to be pretty pissed off if she finds any of you guys. Regardless of the situation, she has the most power over Raine, and Raine was kidnapped under her watch. The Emperor was already displeased at the escape, I can only imagine what he’s done to her for her failure.”

“I should call Luz,” Eda said abruptly, pushing herself off the wall. 

“I’m sure they’re alright,” Derwin soothed, though his shoulders seemed a little tense. “She took on the Emperor and won, didn’t she?”

“You mean when Belos was trying to petrify Eda?” Hunter asked, one ear pricked. “She didn’t win against him, in fact, didn’t she lose? Isn’t that the entire reason she destroyed the portal?”

“What, were you there?” Amber huffed.

“Were you?” Hunter shot back.

“Luz says she kicked his ass,” King volunteered.

“Luz thinks she kicked my ass.” Hunter deadpanned, rolling his head to the side to give the demon a blank look. “She’s an unreliable narrator.”

“Mmm, no, I think she kicked your ass.” Amber said, flashing a sharp-toothed grin.

“Oh, now who wasn’t there?” Hunter hissed, giving her a seething glare. “When did she even tell you about that?”

“While you were off brooding at the castle.”

“I was not brooding–”

The front door opened.

Hunter jumped to his feet in barely a second, hand reaching inside his cloak for his staff. The others, meanwhile, simply turned their heads to the doorway.

“Thank you for helping, guys!” A familiar voice called, and Hunter saw Katya walk in a second later, though she wasn’t the one talking. “I’ll tell you if there’s an update.”

Hunter only noticed then he hadn’t paid attention to where Eda had moved off to. He saw her now, at the corner of his eye, scroll in hand, ready to dial. He saw her hastily put it away.

Luz walked in through the door a moment later, looking rather worn, kicking the door shut with her foot as Hooty started talking. The demon still kept talking, even with the door shut, though it was muffled, now.

“No luck,” Luz sighed as she walked in, stretching her back. “Please tell me you guys have good–Hunter!” She exclaimed, straightening with wide eyes the movement she spotted him.

“Took you long enough,” Hunter huffed, slowly letting himself untense, doing his best to not show his dismay when he realized he’d dropped his chips on the floor, half the contents spilling onto the most likely very filthy carpet.

“When did he get here?” Katya asked, brow raised as Luz hurried over, grinning.

“Just a bit ago, told us some things he knew.” Eda said, placing a hand on Katya’s shoulder, giving her a once-over before guiding her to where everyone was gathered at the couch. “Didn’t want to interrupt you guys in case you found anything important.”

“How's your back feeling?” Luz asked, plopping herself on the other side of the coffee table, arms resting on it.

“Oh, uh, fine,” Hunter said, glancing away as he sat down again, a bit less cautious. Good, now he had a middle-man to mediate things better. He was starting to grow anxious with all the eyes on him. “It’ll scar, but I’ve had worse.”

“That is…hm,” Luz frowned, eyeing him. “You know that's not a good thing, right?”

“Would you rather I say this is the worst injury I’ve had in my life?” Hunter raised a brow.

“Well, it’d be marginally less concerning than the other option.”

“Goldie says that Lily might know something about Raine’s condition.” Eda said, one hand resting on Luz’s head as she came up behind her, and Hunter twitched at the sight of crooked, sharp-nailed fingers on her scalp. “I invited her over while you were away. Kid also says that unless Kikimora issues a command, Raine might not…move at all.” She said, voice slowly becoming duller as she spoke.

“Oh,” Luz said, deflating a bit. “Do you know what kind of spell this is?” Luz asked him, turning her head back to him, and Eda removed her hand to lean against the other end of the couch, by Raine’s feet, seeing as Katya took residence by Raine’s head alongside Amber.

“I’m looking into it,” Hunter promised, thumb brushing over the back of his gloved hand under the table.

“But not in the last three days,” Amber said, before Derwin sharply elbowed her in the sides

“I kind of had appearances to keep up, you know.” Hunter grumbled. “I didn’t get this job by doing whatever I wanted.” He muttered, reaching for a chip on the floor to pick up, before King suddenly leaned off the coffee table and snatched it up, shoving it in his mouth. Hunter stared at him in open disgust for a moment before shaking his head and leaning back, letting King hop onto the floor and eat all that remained.

“Did you get good grades in school, then?” Katya teased, though more light-hearted.

“I was home-schooled.” Hunter said curtly, and it was technically the truth. 

“‘Was?’” Luz repeated, though she became momentarily distracted when his cardinal hopped onto the coffee table, cheeping up at her until she started scratching its head. 

“Why are we interrogating me again?” Hunter demanded, harshly turning his head to look over Raine, avoiding looking at all of them. The sight still made him uneasy. “If we’re going to just keep interrogating me, then we could just communicate through letters, it’d still be effective. Actually, you know what,” Hunter sat up, beginning to push himself to his feet. “Why didn’t I think of that? I should’ve just done that, I should go do that–”

“Sit down, you drama queen.” Amber puffed.

“Hunter, come on,” Luz sighed, though a tiny smile was on her face that Hunter could only muster a halfhearted glare at. He found he didn’t mean it as much as he thought he would.

“Hey, if we’re all going to be asking me questions, I ought to be doing the same.” He said, turning on his heel in the middle of the room, palms raised. “The list just keeps growing on you people. Especially you.” He added, side-ways glancing at Eda, who’s mouth thinned. “Which, now that we’re here, how exactly–”

“Lulu!”

Hunter paused, one ear pricked as he slowly looked towards the door, and heads turned that way, as well. Hooty’s shrieking voice was easily heard through the wood, plus a much quieter one. Hunter narrowed his eyes at the door for a moment, jumping when Eda breezed right by him, arm almost ghosting his side.

Eda opened the front door, just in time for Hunter, and everyone else inside, to see Hooty wrap his long tube body around a…weirdly cheerful Lilith Clawthorne.

“Hello, Hooty.” Lilith smiled, though her voice sounded a bit strained, patting the demon on his head as he chatted her ear off.

“Oh, I have so much to tell you!” Hooty was saying, probably constricting tighter if Lilith’s slightly pained expression was anything to go off of. “Did you get my last letter? The one about–”

“About the beetle in the puddle? Yes, I did.” Lilith said,. “I was just about to send you a reply until Eda called me.”

“Eda called you?” Hooty exclaimed, whirling his head towards the door, a bright smile on his face. “Aw, Eda, you shouldn’t have!”

“It’s for business, Hooty.” Eda said, and though her back was to him, Hunter could hear the smile in her voice. “Lily can talk to you after we’re done, alright?”

“Aww, but Eda!” Hooty whined, drawing out her name.

“No buts, Hooty.” Eda said, stepping aside. “Let Lily go, we’ve got some things to talk about.”

“I guess,” Hooty huffed, abruptly dropping Lilith, almost causing her to fall over as she took in a deep breath. “But I wanna hear, too.”

“You can stay by the window,” Eda relented, offering a hand as Lilith stumbled over, helping her inside, and Lilith flashed her a quick smile. Despite Eda insisting they were alright, Hunter still found the interaction familiar, a bit too much so, compared to what he’d seen on the bridge. “Thanks for coming.” Eda said as Lilith stepped in.

“Of course, I was already considering visiting from what you told me about Raine.” Lilith said, and her weary smile dropped as she said so. “I can’t imagine what–” She paused, gaze landing on Hunter, standing in the center of the room. Almost instantly, he glared right back at her.

She looked…different. Her attire had lost the formality it once had, instead taking on a homemade, lazy-day wear. She’d acquired a gray streak through her hair, and her right eye was an odd gray. It matched almost perfectly with Eda’s, he realized. The roots of her hair were turning a dark ginger, and he vaguely remembered once hearing guards placing bets on if she dyed her hair or not.

“I’m not gonna ask,” Lilith said, shaking her head with a sigh.

“Hi, Lilith!” Luz waved, and Lilith looked over then, a slight fondness to the smile she gave, also thoroughly confusing Hunter. Partially because he’d witnessed Lilith try to murder Luz not all that long ago, partially because the last thing he’d ever expect to see on the ex-Coven Leader’s face was fondness.

“Hello, Luz–is that Raine?” Lilith startled, eyes widening as they shifted to just behind Luz, to the couch.

“Ah,” Eda deflated a bit, ears flicking back as the three remaining BATs all gave tense smiles or waves, and Hunter felt a little better for not being the only one clearly out of depth. “Yeah, told you they were…in a bit of a rough shape.”

“This is more than rough shape, Eda!” Lilith exclaimed, hurrying to the couch, Derwin shuffling a bit as King climbed back up onto the coffee table. “Oh, Raine,” Lilith murmured, reaching out and brushing the tendrils curled around Raine’s forearm.

Hunter narrowed his eyes, taking a couple steps forward. Eda giving two shits about Raine’s wellbeing was one thing. Lilith apparently caring was a whole different matter. Since when, in all the time he’d been in the Emperor’s Coven, had Lilith known Raine? He’s pretty certain he would have picked up on it if Lilith was friendly with anyone in that place, considering she talked to all of zero people in a non-professional manner. 

Lilith was staring at him now, he realized, giving him an odd, guarded look. The others were staring at him, too.

Took him another second to notice the faint, grating growl emitting from his throat.

Fuck.

Hunter jerked his head back, swallowing the noise back. He turned his head to the side, but nothing more. His glare stayed fixed firmly on the wall over Lilith’s shoulder, above the couch.

“My apologies,” Lilith started, slowly standing back to her full height. “Are you one of the BATs Eda told me about?”

It was almost accusatory. He didn’t resist his eye roll, and was more than a little smug to see Luz give Lilith a reprimanding look. 

“To everyone’s relief, no.” He muttered, one ear flicking. It was odd to be facing Lilith without his mask. He was uncomfortably aware of every expression he made, something he’d been trying to work on schooling when in his uncle's presence.

Lilith’s eyes narrowed, contemplative. She opened her mouth, closed it, slowly raised her hand, pointing a finger at him.

“You sound familiar,” Lilith said cautiously. 

“He's got a rather distinctly annoying voice, doesn't he?” Eda teased, and Hunter barely resisted the urge to jump as she appeared at his side, and though her teasing grin was back, it seemed halfway forced, now. 

“My voice is fine,” Hunter near-snapped, one hand raising to his throat and rubbing a thumb over it. “Pick something better to complain about.” 

“Oh, don’t worry,” Eda chuckled, patting his shoulder, of which he did tense up, “I’ve got a list.”

“Of course you do,” Hunter grumbled, watching as Eda strode back to the little group that formed, shaking himself off from the touch.

“You…” Lilith stared, eyes still squinted, raking her gaze over him. He saw the moment the idea came to her, a twinge of horror flashing in her eyes. It made him grin, all sharpened teeth and taunting.

“Me,” He agreed, and he saw the realization hit, her face morphing into that of shock. “Been a while, huh?”

“You–” Lilith took a step back, the backs of her knees brushing the couch. “You’re a child.”

“Teenager,” Hunter corrected easily. “But that wouldn’t really make a difference to you, would it?” He taunted.

Lilith whirled to Eda, as though searching for answers. Eda only gave her a shrug, though he noted her expression was a little unreadable. Was it amused, or thoughtful?

“Are they gonna fight?” He heard King whisper to Luz.

“Why–” Lilith started, turning back to stare at him. “Why are you–you’re a child.”

“Teenager, and we established this.” Hunter said, the smugness fading, just a bit. “Have you lost that intelligence you never shut up about in your time on the run?”

“I need to sit down,” Lilith pressed a hand to her face, and Luz simply patted the space on the floor next to her, to which Lilith quickly migrated.

“Wait, does the Emperor’s Coven not know you’re a kid?” Katya asked, frowning.

“Why would they?” Hunter scoffed, pricking an ear. “It’d make it impossibly difficult to control any of them if they thought someone beneath them was their superior.”

“It’s true,” Luz piped up, King patting Lilith’s back in confusion. The witch in question had drawn her knees up to her chest and buried her face in her hands. “They all bullied him when he tried to tell them he was the Golden Guard.”

“They were confused,” Hunter hissed through gritted teeth.

“No, they seemed entirely confident that you were a troublesome teen.” Luz said matter-of-factly, irritatingly self-satisfied.

“Regardless,” Hunter sniped, “once Lilith gets over what I imagine is her fifth midlife crisis, we’ve got some questions to ask her.” He said, crossing his arms. “So, we best start writing it down.”

“He’s a child,” Lilith groaned into her hands.

“Can we move past that already?” Hunter muttered, a bit annoyed, now. “As much as I’d love to mock you, we have more important matters here.” 

“Aw, it’s okay, Lulu,” Hooty cooed, and Hunter had completely forgotten he was there, watching as the demon slithered in through the window to poke his face at her feet. “I didn’t tell Hunter any of the things you said about him.”

“She was still shit-talking me?” Hunter asked, and his smirk was back. “Yeesh, someone's got problems.”

“Hunter?” Lilith raised her head then, looking Hunter up and down. “Your name is Hunter?”

“Don’t go yelling it around,” Hunter muttered, though there was a warning laced within it. “There’s already far too many people that know it.”

“Titan, okay,” Lilith pinched the bridge of her nose, taking in a deep breath. “Give me a moment, I’m remembering a lot of things I deeply regret saying, now.”

“Hey, at least now we know you’re getting character development.” Eda said with a shrug. “Sure, you argued, fought, and tried to kill some teenagers, but at least you feel bad about it.” She teased, and Lilith gave a quiet hiss.

“Oh, she did far more than fight me.” Hunter said, lifting his hand and beginning to count off his fingers. “Threats, defamation, sabotage, indirect insubordination–”

“Please stop talking,” Lilith groaned, face falling back into her hands.

“What are you willing to do to ensure I will?” Hunter leveled back. “I’m not normally one to be bribed, but I’ll make an acception.”

“As amusing as this is,” Derwin spoke up. “We still have Raine here.”

“Right,” Hunter shook his head, snapping it out of the revenge-filled glee it was in. “Lilith, as much as I hate to admit it, we need your information from your time as Coven Leader.”

Lilith sighed, running her hands down her face before looking up, looking far more exhausted than she had before as she turned around, facing the couch that Raine was laying on. Even in her time away from the Coven, Hunter recognized the formal expression she slowly slipped on, the one she often wore when she was trying not to freak out on some guards.

“I take it it’s about the mind-control Raine is under?” Lilith sighed.

“So you know what it is, then?” Amber perked up, and the others' attention was instantly grabbed.

“Vaguely,” Lilith said, giving Raine a sad, defeated expression that looked far too out of place on her face, and Hunter looked away from it. “I’ve only ever seen it used once before, and even then, it was incredibly briefly. I’m afraid I don’t know much about it.”

“Well, we’ve got nothing, so we’ll take what we can get.” Eda said, jaw set. “What is it, Lilith?”

“It’s…” Lilith shook her head. “It’s a very, very old spell,” She said, “and an incredibly tricky one, at that. It’s one of the most effective, but also most dangerous, forms of mind-control, a blend of illusion, abomination, and plant magic. As you can imagine, it’s impossible to use unless you have the Emperor Coven’s ability to possess all forms of magic.

“Back in my early days in the Coven, one of the guard captains was revealed to be a traitor, and planned to stage an attack on the castle. Kikimora was eager to try out new spells she had learned, and I believe it was this kind. I only saw the guard captain once, when Emperor Belos wanted to make him to be an example, summoning much of the Coven to witness what they’d done. It certainly got me to look over my shoulder more often.” Lilith shuttered.

“The guard captain was later used in an ambush to capture the remaining witches and demons from his rebellion. After that, the guard captain was planned to have been kept around, to see what else they could do. I heard rumors that, after about a month, the spell had begun to take some sort of toll on Kikimora, so they decided to cut their losses and only use the spell in special situations.” She paused here, swallowing before her shoulders slumped. “The plan was to see if they could get any more information out of the guard captain on the off-chance they missed something but…there were complications. I don’t know what kind, I never asked, but they hadn’t been…the same.” She murmured. 

Hunter could practically feel the tension in the room shift, and he leaned forward, if only slightly. His cardinal wiggled free of Luz’s hand, fluttering over to his shoulder and pressing up against his neck. The weight was almost grounding.

“Everyone said different things. Some said that they had trouble grasping the concept of moving without being told, or that they could barely speak, or that their vision had been heavily impaired, and a million other things. I don’t know what they did with the guard captain afterwards, but I can only assume the usual. Never heard from him again, and any attempts for more information from them were deemed too much effort. That’s the last I ever heard of this kind of spell.”

A silence enveloped the room, Lilith not looking anyone in the eyes, and that formality on her face dropped when her gaze turned to Raine, a remorseful expression forming. Hunter slowly lifted a hand to his neck, pressing his hand against his cardinal, who warbled softly.

“Well, fuck.” Amber said, and Katya promptly smacked the back of her head.

Eda slumped against the wall, one hand pressed to her face, hiding her eyes. King and Luz shared horrified expressions, and Derwin ran his thumb over the thorns along Raine’s arm. Despite Katya’s previous reaction, she seemed visibly disturbed, crossing her arms.

“Shit, okay,” Hunter said, clearing his throat as he pushed himself to his feet. “Okay, that’s–I can work with that.”

“What do you mean you can work with it?” Amber echoed, aghast.

“I can ask questions, search records, find senior members of the Coven to talk to,” Hunter said, hands moving as he spoke. “You’ve been keeping Raine fed and hydrated, and they haven’t been under control all too long, so if we act fast, we can probably halt any permanent damages.”

“I imagine it would be a closely guarded secret,” Lilith warned, frowning. “Kikimora wouldn’t leave this kind of spell in the open, I’ve never heard of anyone else who knows it. How do you expect to find it before the month is up?”

“I’ll figure something out,” Hunter said, because what else could he say? “Belos trusts me, if he knows anything, I may be able to get it out of him. And if not, then we have every confiscated book in the Isles in our library,” He said, running a hand through his hair and resisting the urge to yank on it. “There’s no way Kikimora came across that spell on her own, so it has to be in there somewhere. Do you know the name of the spell?” He asked, and he was not begging, thank you.

“I don’t,” Lilith shook her head. “Believe me, I wish I did.”

“Great,” Hunter grumbled, and barely stopped himself short of kicking something. “Okay, that’s fine, I can still find it. It’s a big library, but it's sorted, I just–need to look for a few particular sections. Hardly anyone goes in there, anyway.”

“We could all sneak in,” Luz suggested, also standing. “We’d all cover more ground if we–”

“Absolutely not,” Hunter shut it down, already feeling a spike in his gut at the thought of them going back into the castle. “The guards have tripled since we rescued Raine, and we are not risking any of you getting captured while sorting through that library. I can handle it just fine on my own.”

“Katya?” Eda said, and he looked her way, then, and he could’ve sworn Eda had pinpricks on her arms, and she could’ve almost been shaking, though he didn’t focus enough on that to confirm it. She moved her hand down her face, covering the bottom half of her face, but her eyes were visible. He swore her scalera looked darker than normal. “Did any of you keep in contact with the wild witches you rescued?”

“Oh, uh, yeah,” Katya said, sparing a glance with Derwin and Amber. “Not all of them, but we know some of the villages we told them they could hide at.”

“Good, you’re gonna want to start making maps.” Eda said, pinching the bridge of her nose and taking in a deep breath, and Hunter could see a ‘don’t freak out right now’ expression from a mile away. It surprised him how similar it looked to Lilith’s, just with less sharp edges. “We can’t waste any opportunities in case they might know something.”

“Oh, Amber,” King raised a claw. “Do you remember where Luz’s pens–”

“On it,” Amber said, leaving Raine’s side for the first time since Hunter arrived, darting around the others and off to the stairs.

He saw Lilith’s eyes flicker to him at the mention of the wild witches, and he met her eyes, unwavering. Her gaze only narrowed, and she looked away, back to Eda. 

“We have a plan, then.” Hunter said, clasping his hands together. “I search the castle’s libraries and ask around, and you lot go talk to the wild witches. Should be simple enough.”

“Don’t jinx us,” Derwin mumbled.

“Shouldn’t we at least have a way to get into the Emperor Coven’s library in case something goes wrong, or you can’t get there?” Luz persisted. “You just said you had to keep up appearances, what if–”

“I know how to handle Emperor Belos,” Hunter gruffed, feeling a light nip to his ear from his cardinal and ignoring it. “And I know you’ll just use that information to break in during the worst possible times, anyway.”

“I have a little self control.” Luz muttered, crossing her arms.

“No, no you do not.” Hunter said, turning away. “What time is it?”

“Oh, oh, I know!” Hooty poked his head up from the floor, seemingly the only one who wasn’t put off. “The time is, uh,” Hooty drew out his humming, turning his head around in a circular rotation. “The one-hundred twenty degrees time! That was it, I remember.” He said cheerfully.

“What the hell does that even mean?” Hunter stared.

“He means it’s four.” King said, as if this was common knowledge that people just had, apparently.

“Titan, you people are weird–whatever, that means dawn will be here soon.” Hunter said, throwing up his hands. “And I have work to do. Unless someone wants to share some shattering information at this time, I’m going back to the castle to get at least a little bit of rest. My sleep schedule is bad enough as it is.”

“To be fair,” Luz said as others began standing, moving to grab papers, shuffling around the room. “From one look at you, I don’t think it can get worse.”

“Hilarious,” Hunter drawled, flicking her forehead before he could stop himself. “Don’t follow me.” He warned, adding more force to his voice.

“I was not going to follow you–”

“You were thinking about it.”

“I was not–”

“Don’t do anything stupid!” Katya called after him, a fanged grin on her face. “Or whatever it is you keep telling us.”

“Good thing I don’t make a habit of it.” Hunter snarked back.

“Debatable.”

Hunter gave Luz a tired, exasperated look. She only snickered, and he supposed it was nice that someone could still derive amusement from this situation. Could probably still find optimism when in the maw of a basilisk.

He almost smiled back, if only at his own thoughts.

Then he saw Luz’s eyes flicker slightly, just a little down from his face. 

“What happened to your neck?” She asked, a confused frown coming to her face, hand reaching out.

Hunter jerked away, clapping a hand over what he knew was showing through the faint dip in his cloak, no longer wound tightly around his frame, the nasty scabbing he chose not to bother bandaging anymore practically on display to anyone who looked. Luz startled a bit at his reaction, blinking a bit owlishly as he took another step back.

“Nothing,” He said, turning his head away, his injured side facing away from Luz. “It’s–there was just a re–accident, I’m fine.”

The word reminder sat on his tongue. It was true, he’d normally call it as such, but then they’d ask what the reminder was for. Luz would follow him back without hesitation if she knew Belos was suspicious of him, if any of them knew just how close he was to being caught. No way in hell would they trust him with more risky work like this, and then they’d all be doomed.

He could feel eyes on him. He didn’t look over to see who was watching them, now.

“...if you’re sure.” Luz said, cautiously.

“Course I am. I was there, wasn’t I?” Hunter scoffed, turning on his heel and towards the front door. “Don’t do anything overly reckless, yeah?” He called over his shoulder, grabbing the door handle.

“Same to you,” He heard Eda call after, a slight strain to her voice that hadn’t quite left.

“What do you think I am, new?” Hunter muttered, pushing open the door.

Hooty’s body startled with the movement, still somewhere in the house behind him. He silently ducked under Hooty’s body, withdrawing his staff. There was a chirping in his ear, and he ignored it in favor of extending his staff.

He didn’t look back at the eyes still searing holes into him as he shot into the sky. What a way to make an exit.

 ,

 The fly back to the castle was silent, which was a little odd, especially for his palisman. He was almost grateful for it as he slipped back in through his window, tossing his staff aside as he flopped down on his bed, face in his pillow. 

He’d have to write down a list, soon. Of hours he could sneak into the library, of guards that would’ve been around way back when Lilith was new, though he knew they would be few and far between. He’d have to write down a real possibility of the spell being somewhere in Kikimora’s room, and he’d have to consider finding a way to sneak in, and–

And his palisman was settling down by his head, and he was so tired. Of work, of people, of emotions, of all this running around, and just in general. If he keeps this up, he’s going to wind up passing out one day, and that’s just going to be all kinds of humiliating.

He sighed, moving his head to the side as he stared at the wall, one hand coming up to his palisman and petting a finger down its back as it chittered contently. He didn’t bother to try removing his under armor, or changing out of his old cloak. He'd ended the exact way he started. Sore, tired, and with a stinging sensation in his back.

If he was lucky, he’d wake up with memory loss. Couldn’t have ten different problems at once if you didn’t know what they were now, could you?

He blinked, and when he opened his eyes again, sunlight was streaming in through the window.

[spencerreidsconverse]

When Evil Doesn't Sleep

summary: Spencer has been gone far too long on a case and when he finally returns home, reader shows him just how much she missed him.

word count: 3.4k

warnings: smut, implied dom/sub undertones, pet names

Pairing: Spencer Reid/Female Reader

A/N: My first fic!!! I hope you all enjoy! <3

“Y/n I’m really sorry but it looks like the case is going to take a lot longer than we thought. We had a recent development and the profile is now pointing to a partnership so now we’re hunting down two unsubs”. You sighed as Spencer rattled off his apologies through the phone before putting him out of his misery “Spencer honey, you don’t have to apologize. Quit worrying about me and focus on catching the bad guys.”

To say you missed Spencer would be the understatement of the century. He had been in Utah for six days already and now with a pair of psychos your odds of finding him in your bed by the end of the week were growing increasingly slim. It didn’t help that you had been swamped prepping for an extra class you’d agreed to take on at Georgetown where you worked as a Criminal Psychology professor. Between both of your hectic work schedules you hadn’t had a real weekend to yourselves in a few months, and while you knew when you first started dating Spencer that it was an inevitable of his job, it had never been this crazy before. They say evil never sleeps but lately it hasn't even taken a catnap.

“I love you Y/N. I promise I’ll come home to you soon and take you out on a real date. I’m sorry darling, I have to go. I’ll text you when I get to the hotel tonight and if you’re still up we can talk for a bit okay?”. “Alright Spence, I love you too. Stay safe okay?”. “I promise, goodbye love.”

Your farewell barely made it past your lips when the dial tone cut you off and once again your boyfriend of three years vanished from your side of the country. You let out an exasperated sigh before reminding yourself that there were other people who needed his help and that you could wait for his attention - at least until that night. Continuing the trek up the stairs of your and spencer’s shared apartment, you managed to haphazardly balance your grocery bags in one hand while unlocking the door and disabling the security alarm, internally cringing at the high shriek that rattled through your brain.

Walking through the living room, you sat the bags on your kitchen counter and began reorganizing the small fridge space to fit all the perishables you had brought home, absentmindedly hoping they wouldn't spoil now that it would be just you for several more days. Moving to the cupboard you replaced the few grab and go snack boxes you had made up to try and encourage Spencer to eat more throughout the day and refilled the paper plate stash that quickly became a requirement after you realized neither one of you could tolerate doing dishes every night. You ripped open the cardboard packaging of yet another microwave dinner and set the timer before leaving to change into more comfortable attire.

Opening the door of your shared bedroom, the smell of vanilla wax melts and dryer sheets hit you like a brick and immediately sent a pang of loneliness through your chest. Spencer was usually around by the time the chores needed done, and you rarely had to do them yourself. Unfortunately, the laundry was piling up and you needed something to distract you so you spent the day running errands and cleaning the apartment more thoroughly than necessary. You walked over to the stack of black dresser drawers and pulled out the first pair of pajama pants you touched, Spencer’s old caltech sweats that now fit you far better than him considering he had received them when he was 14. They looked more like capris on him now and it was embarrassingly difficult to convince him to buy a new pair that fit him properly. You slipped on a tank top and pulled your hair back before making your way lazily to the bathroom to take off the remnants of your simple makeup.

After scrubbing your face clean and pulling your dinner out, you moved to ready the couch for yet another night of binge watching cheesy 90s movies. You selected Clueless and watched the vibrant colors pop across the screen while you dived into your meal, making a poor attempt to ignore the slight freezer burnt taste that lingered after every bite. You finished your dinner and set the bowl aside before covering yourself with a blanket and allowing yourself to sink into the cushions, desperately awaiting Spencer's text.

You were jolted out of your doze by the loud buzzing of your phone against the wooden coffee table. Clumsily you reached for it and managed to swipe the answer pad before it sent your genius to voicemail. “Hello?” you managed before a yawn ripped its way through you suddenly. “Hey Y/N, I’m sorry it’s so late. I didn't mean to wake you, I figured you’d still be up. You should go back to bed love.” For the first time, you noticed the neon green numbers on the microwave. 12:30. You stifled another yawn and shook your head in an effort to wake yourself further “No way, I just dozed off while watching a movie. I was waiting to talk to you. Besides, I’m up now anyways so you might as well stay on with me for a bit. Did you get any further today?” “Well, JJ had the idea that the partners were originally a typical dominant/submissive partnership but that something in the dynamic must have changed because the MO began to deteriorate. We think the partners must have split up now, because we’re finding similar pieces of the previous MO at separate crime scenes.”.

You processed the information he fed you slowly due to your semiconscious state but eventually you put your words in order well enough to respond. “That should be helpful though yeah? I mean, they’re used to working in a partnership so being suddenly separated from your other half so to speak would throw you off track quite a bit right?”. You could practically hear him smiling through the phone as you drew the conclusions the team had come to only a few hours prior. “Yes. We’re hoping to be able to draw them out and trap them. Play them against each other.”.”Does that mean I can stop sleeping on the couch soon?”. You heard him let out a dejected sigh - you knew he hated that you would force yourself onto the cramped couch when you had a king sized bed a few hundred feet away but he understood.

When he had come home in the early hours of the morning after an abrupt end to a case a few weeks after you had moved into his place, he had caught you curled up on the sofa with a throw pillow stuffed under your head. When he questioned you about it the next morning, you simply answered that the bed felt too big without him and that you couldn’t stand the empty feeling. “Sooner than later I hope my love. Y/N I really wish you wouldn’t do that to yourself. It’s horrible for your body. It can put you at a much higher risk for chronic back and neck pain as well as-”. “Spence. I’m not a giant like you are. I fit on the couch much better than you do, and I barely notice the difference.”. You both cringed, hearing the lie clear in your voice. Still, Spencer must have felt bad because he humored you. “If you're sure. What did you do today my love?”. You smiled sadly hearing in his voice just how desperate he was to escape from his reality and come home to you.

”Well, I straightened the house. In fact, it’s so clean i think we could use it as a sterilization room.”. He let out a soft chuckle and you could hear him begin to relax as you recounted the rest of your day, excluding the part about the microwave dinner. Spencer loved to tell you how many of the ingredients were one step away from processed garbage and you decided to opt out of the lecture for the evening. He had more than enough to worry about without having to focus on your diet while he was away. After a half hour of light conversation, a loud yawn betrayed you as you were excitedly discussing the cute puppy you had met on the way to the market. Spencer immediately requested that you hang up and get some more sleep but you refused. After a few minutes of bickering, you relented on the condition that he would read to you until you had fallen asleep. You curled up under the fluffy blanket as Spencer’s even voice recited the collection of Grimm’s fairy tales quickly lured you to sleep.

You woke up the next morning as sunlight peered through the curtains, stretching your body out to ease the aches from the previous night. You smiled softly as your screen lit up with a text from Spencer wishing you a good morning and an update that they had a solid plan for boxing in the two unsubs that afternoon. “If all goes to plan I should be carrying you to our bed before midnight tonight.”. Your smile widened and you sent back “Can’t wait to truly see you - and love you- tonight. I’ll be waiting.” You plugged your phone into the charger and straightened up from the night before when your phone went off again. The one word message glared at you from the screen and you let out an involuntary giggle. “Tease.”. You hoped it gave him something to look forward to until he was back in your arms. You sent back a simple “XO” before deciding to reread one of your favorite books for a few hours to kill some time. You made yourself a sandwich for lunch and had a few glasses of water as the clock slowly ticked by. You were over halfway through the lengthy novel when you received another message.

“We apprehended both unsubs. Hotch is postponing the paperwork until Monday so we can go straight home. I’ll see you in a few hours baby.”.  You jumped slightly in celebration before finishing your current chapter, marking your place, and all but skipping to the shower to shave and exfoliate your skin. You knew Spencer would still be heavily worked up once he arrived home and luckily, his favorite release included intertwining your bodies as close as possible and loving you sweetly and slowly.

You took your time in the shower careful not to nick yourself with your razor. You scrubbed your scalp with your nails, letting your stress and soreness melt away under the steam. You waited until the water ran cold before turning the knob and stepping out, wrapping yourself in a fluffy towel and blow drying your hair until it layed perfectly even. You applied lotion all over your skin and stepped out of the bathroom to slip on your black silk robe, knowing it wouldn’t be worth it to dress up further. Spencer would be desperate to feel your skin against his and any fabric in his way didn't stand much of a chance.

You made an actual meal for dinner, a pasta dish with chicken that could be easily reheated for Spencer when he grew hungry later in the night. You helped yourself to a serving and after quickly cleaning up the kitchen and storing the leftovers, you retreated to the bedroom to wait for his return.

You were half paying attention to the feed you opted to scroll through on your phone when you heard the door creak open and bags drop to the floor. You set your phone on the bedside table and ran towards the foyer, all but throwing yourself at the exhausted man in front of you. He took a step back from the impact but still enveloped you in his arms and pulled you impossibly tight into his chest. “Hi baby.” you whispered against the scruffy skin of his jawline, peppering kisses up towards his earlobe. He let out a long sigh of relief and picked you up off the hardwood floor, wrapping your thighs around his waist resulting in a high pitched giggle to erupt from your throat. He kissed you then, slowly at first but quickly building more passionate. Your lungs were burning when he finally allowed you to pull away, opting to kiss down your neck to your collarbones and the skin of your chest that was newly exposed as your robe slipped open.

He carefully made his way back to your room, continuing his kisses back up to your shoulder, stopping only to leave marks you knew would only grow darker as time passed. At the very least he was sure to only mark you in places you could cover with little difficulty. “I missed you so much Y/N. The entire ride home all I could think about was you waiting for me in our bed. My gorgeous girl.”. You felt your chest heat up at his words of admiration, wrapping your fingers into his curls and pulling his lips towards your own once more.

You felt him groan against you and moved to quickly unbutton his shirt, slipping it down his arms and tossing it in the general direction of the hamper. He pulled you up with him then, so you were both on your knees, chest to chest as he pulled your robe fully down your back to the swell of your ass where he grasped at you through the slick fabric. You let out a whine and you pulled his belt off, undoing his jeans desperate to continue. He grinned against your neck and pushed you down so you laid flat on your back, completely exposed to him. He kissed at your stomach, making his way down to your inner thighs. He licked a slow wet trail from your pelvic bone to the top of your clit as you whimpered desperately. “Spence, please… I need more”. He humored you, creating slow small circles with his tongue moaning at the taste. You cried out as he created the perfect amount of pressure on your clit, legs threatening to close around his head when he moved to slip one of his fingers easily inside you as the mix of your own wetness and his saliva aided him. He smirked as he felt your thighs flex before using his left hand to throw one of your legs over his shoulders at a time. He pushed a second finger in, curling them up to perfectly reach your g-spot with every thrust. Soon though, you grew impatient with just his fingers. You needed more and you knew just how to get it.

“I want you so bad Spence. I’ve waited for so long and I just can’t anymore. I need to feel you deep inside of me.”. You were positive those words would leave him just as needy as you were and he proved you right when he kicked his pants the rest of the way off and went to line himself up against you. “Wait.”. He stopped immediately, examining your face for any indication of what was wrong. “What’s the matter baby? Are you okay?”. You shook your head and smiled at his concern before switching your positions so his back was resting against the pillows as you straddle his thighs. He smirked at you as he caught on, trailing his hands up the front of your legs to rest at your hips. “You gonna ride me angel?”. You responded with an eager nod and he squeezed your hips, pulling you up further so you were hovering above him. “Sit pretty like my good girl then.”. You whined softly at his words before slowly sinking yourself down around his length, sucking in a harsh breath at the stretch. Even with how wet you were, the adjustment took longer than usual due to the dry spell you were both suffering from as of late.

When you finally felt stretched out enough to move, you slowly ground your hips forward flush against his. He groaned out, lifting you back up so you were almost completely off of him before pulling you back down. You moaned both at the sensation and the idea of being manhandled by the genius below you. You realized what he was asking though, and began bouncing yourself up and down his cock, stopping every few thrusts to grind your clit down on him. You let out soft moans, and after a few more minutes you felt his fingers dig deeper into your hips and his breaths quicken. You knew he was close and as if on cue you started rubbing fast circles against your clit as he spoke again.

“Baby girl I’m getting close. You gonna cum with me angel?” You nodded furiously in response and you felt him start thrusting up to meet you. You panted as you hurried towards the edge of your orgasm, holding on until his thrusts grew sloppier. “You ready to cum with me baby? You gonna cum on my cock?” “Yeah.. gonna cum all over your cock Doc.” You fought to keep the grin off your face when he moaned at the title. He thrusted deep into you twice, before he ordered your release. “I want you to cum now baby. Cum all over my cock.” You felt your orgasm rip through you, electricity shooting through your limbs. Spencer groaned loudly as you tightened around him before pulling you down deep and releasing inside you.

You both fought to catch your breath as you rode out your highs before you found yourself slumping against his chest, suddenly drained from your activities. You felt him chuckle at your drastic change in energy as he wrapped his arms around you again. “I know you just washed the bed sheets and we’re both sweaty but do you think a washcloth will suffice for tonight?”. You nodded against his chest before slowly lifting yourself up and off of him, rolling onto your back on the other side of the bed. Spencer swiftly made his way across the hall, returning to wipe you down gently with the warm fabric. You shivered as the cool air dried your skin, watching him move throughout your room.

He slipped on a fresh pair of boxers before tossing the washcloth in the hamper along with his previously discarded clothes. He hung your robe on the back of your bedroom door then flipped the light switch off before rejoining you in bed to slip under the blankets with you. You immediately curled up into his chest, sighing contently as the sound of his heartbeat filled your ears. You kissed his chest and whispered goodnight, drifting into your first real sleep since before he left.

The next morning you and Spencer went shopping after you successfully convinced him to upgrade to a smart phone with video call abilities. He had begun to shut down the idea as he always had before but after the mere suggestion of what it could do to better your late night hotel room chats he was the one pulling you towards the nearest phone shop. You smiled politely while Spencer took his sweet time weighing the pros and cons of each model, letting your mind drift to the first time it would come in handy. As you finally neared the checkout counter, you took Spencer's hand in your own and gave it a gentle squeeze. After running his card through the machine, the salesgirl gave him the small plastic bag and wished you both a good afternoon.

As you exited the shop, you looked up at him, nudging him to get his attention “What do you think of an app controlled vibrator?”. He stared at you incredulously for a few moments, almost stopping dead in his tracks. After recovering from the initial shock at the vulgarity of your suggestion, he shook his head with a soft smirk and nudged back against you. “Tease.” he called you once more. “That’s the reason you love me right?”. He pulled you into his side, kissing you softly. “One of many Y/N. One of many.”

[classyklancey]

White Magnolia

Pairing: Keith Kogane x Lance McClain Genre: fluff (pining idiots) Warnings: Keith is so in love it’s gross Summary: Lance convinces Keith to go on a road trip with him to California. Keith struggles to hide his pining Word Count: 3.5k words A/N: this was supposed to be posted for Lance’s birthday but oh well-

Keith doesn’t know why he decided to indulge Lance in such a crazy fantasy. One minute Lance is just rambling about what he misses about Cuba and the next, Lance is driving them both from Texas to California in his blue Tacoma. Keith really can’t find it in him to complain though with the way the sun is shining on Lance’s beautiful bronze skin and the wind is blowing through his brown, curly locks.

What Keith can complain about though is Lance’s terrible taste in music. For some reason, Lance’s road trip playlist—which is mysteriously called ‘Not a thing to do, but talk to you. WE'RE ALL ALRIGHT! WE'RE ALL ALRIGHT! HELLO WISCONSIN!’ and no matter how much Keith asks, Lance refuses to tell him why it’s called that—is mostly consisted of 90s songs. Being the pining idiot that he is though, Keith can’t find it in him to do any more than light teasing in Lance’s direction as he screeches all the lyrics at the top of his lungs.

One song does however catch Keith’s attention, especially since Lance immediately tries to skip it. “What was that?” Keith asks, smashing his pointer finger against the back button on the radio to bring it back to the song that Lance is currently blushing over.

“Nothing! Stop hitting the back button!” Lance screeches as he keeps trying to skip it only for Keith to hit the back button. They do this three or four times before Lance reaches his right hand over to smack and hit Keith. Keith grunts with every hit that Lance lands, not even noticing that the song he’s been trying to skip is finally playing.

When I first saw you, I saw love And the first time you touched me, I felt love And after all this time You're still the one I love, mmm, yeah-yeah

Keith starts to blush along with Lance, his hand smacking Lance’s away and finally bringing the brunette’s attention back to the song playing. Lance hurriedly skips it and looks at Keith out of the corner of his eye, but Keith pretends not to see as he looks out the window. Keith just assumes that Lance is embarrassed for having such a lovey-dovey song playing with Keith here, but Keith can’t help but feel that this is their song.

Keith is a stupid man who has been stupidly in love with someone who will never return his feelings for as long as they’ve known each other. Keith instantly took a liking to Lance despite having never even had a conversation together. Keith had always admired that Lance was so outspoken and friendly with everyone he met.

Well, except for Keith.

No, you see, Lance had somehow decided that Keith was his rival and that Lance would take him down. First, it was little things, like Lance trying to do better than him on quizzes and he’d brag each and every time he’d even get one single point more than Keith. That was annoying but it wasn’t too bad, Keith could handle that. It slowly began to escalate though over time until it turned to them yelling in each other’s faces and having to be pulled away from one another before it got physical. All that ended up doing was causing Keith to shut him out and pretend he didn’t even exist despite the fact that he could barely keep his eyes off of the blue-eyed Cuban. They ended up getting into the same friend group though since Hunk is friends with Lance, Keith is friends with Pidge, and Hunk and Pidge are friends with each other. It didn’t take them long to bring Keith and Lance together, even though it did take a long, long time. The duo eventually started to see each other as friends and became as thick as thieves.

Keith always craved for more though.

Keith is knocked out of his reminiscing when Lance curses because he missed a turn, his frown instantly becoming a smile when one of his favorite songs comes on. Lance goes back to screaming the words which causes Keith’s grey eyes to roll towards the back of his head. Despite his supposed annoyance, his heart is doing tricks in his chest whenever Lance grows focused on driving, which causes his screeching to become light, melodic singing.

Keith is starting to believe that this is what heaven would be like.

Keith’s eyes focus on Lance’s right hand that rests on the gear shift, his fingers tapping along to whatever annoying song he is playing. Keith suddenly has the urge to reach out and tangle their fingers together, to compare who’s hand is bigger and how their skin tones contrast beautifully.

This all repeats for a while, along with occasional chatter, for about eight hours before Lance grows too tired to drive on anymore. They have about twelve more hours to drive and Keith offers to drive while Lance sleeps, but Lance has an odd reaction. He claims he doesn’t trust Keith to drive ‘his baby’ but something Lance doesn’t know is that Keith has become a bit of a Lance expert. If they’re getting food and Lance says he doesn’t want any, what he really is saying is he doesn’t want to make Keith pay since he forgot his wallet. If Lance seems off and says he��s fine when Keith asks about it, what he really means is that he’s not okay but he wants to appear strong in front of everyone.

So, when Lance says he doesn’t trust Keith to drive his car, what he’s really saying is that he wants them to enjoy the ride there together. ‘It’s called a road trip for a reason, Keith.’ Keith doesn’t fight him on it and offers that they get some food before spending the night in a motel.

After getting some extremely greasy fast food and talking until really late, they finally head into their crappy and very worrisome motel. They both stop in the doorway when they find that there’s only one bed, making both of them stare at it in silence.

“I can sle—”

“I don’t mind tak—”

They both go quiet again when they both talk at the same time, both of their bodies turned slightly away from each other. Lance sighs and places his bag onto a small table by the door, starting to unzip it to pull out all his nightly routine items. “Look, why don’t we just share the bed? The floor is absolutely disgusting and I’m afraid one of us would catch something if we even tried sitting on it,” Lance says as he pulls everything out and begins heading for the bathroom. He makes a face when he walks inside of it before turning to smile at Keith and shooting him his signature wink.

Keith sighs and sets his bag on the chair by the table, deciding that he really didn’t want to sleep on the gross floor nor did he want to make Lance do it. Lance would probably complain about it through the entire night and all of his life if he ended up sleeping there anyway. Keith changes into his pajamas right there seeing as how Lance has seen Keith shirtless many times. Not that he ever seems to notice Keith’s shirtlessness…

The same doesn’t go for Keith though. Oh, no no. Keith has become the master at staring at Lance without getting caught. Well, sometimes he does and each time he’s caught, his face erupts in color. Lance always just assumes it’s from their recent workout or being out in the sun too long. Keith thanks God every day for Lance’s obliviousness despite the fact that he’s not religious. Keith catches himself staring at Lance more than the Cuban man does. He can’t help himself though. Lance has the looks of a god, what with his smooth, caramel skin, thick, curly hair, mesmerizing blue eyes, perfectly straight, white teeth, and the list goes on. Keith’s pretty sure he could write a whole book—no, a trilogy—on Lance’s perfect body. The thing Keith hates the most about his stupid crush though is that it’s not just his body that he likes. No, that would make Keith’s life easier and he’s pretty sure that the universe is out to spite him. No, Keith has to like all of Lance. His bad puns, his stupid finger guns, his cheesy pick-up lines, his corny sense of humor, his everything. Keith wants all of him more than he’s ever wanted anything in his life.

“Alright, bathroom’s yours!” Lance calls as he walks back over to his bag, smiling when he sees that Keith is wearing the pajama set that Lance had gotten him for Christmas one year. “No way!” Lance shouts in glee before rushing to his bag to pull out his matching pair. Keith sighs down at his red pajamas before looking at Lance’s blue pajamas.

“Don’t make me regret this,” he grumbles as he walks to the bathroom to brush his teeth.

“I’m not doing anything!” Lance huffs as he starts pulling on his own pjs. Once they are all ready for bed, they stand at the foot of it in another silence.

“So, uh, what side of the bed do you want?” Lance mumbles. Keith shrugs, not really caring either way what side he gets. “Cool, can I get the left side then?” he continues, already moving onto that side of the bed before Keith can even reply. Keith huffs a laugh through his nose before crawling onto the right side. Both of them lay on top of the covers, too scared of what lies beneath the covers to let their skin touch it. Good thing Arizona is such a warm state cause Keith would think he’d freeze otherwise. Guess it also helps that their AC unit doesn’t work anyway.

Unlike Lance, Keith has always been an early riser, so he’s not surprised when he wakes up before the brunette. What he is surprised to find though is that Lance is laying on his chest softly snoring away. Keith’s arms are wrapped around Lance’s torso and he can’t help but to squeeze him a little tighter, hoping that this isn’t a dream. Keith then finds that the still snoozing dork is sweating buckets, if Lance’s semi-damp clothes are anything to go by. Keith’s nose wrinkles at how gross they are but, of course, Keith’s poor weak heart starts beating faster at the fact that they’re cuddling.

And maybe Keith’s wildly beating heart is what causes Lance to stir and to slowly blink his eyes open. He’s letting out a yawn and beginning to stretch before halting in the middle of it, his eyes growing as wide as plates. He suddenly jerks away from Keith, doing so in such a harsh way that it causes him to tumble to the floor with a scream. Keith laughs and sits up, crawling over to Lance’s side of the bed to look over the edge at him. He finds Lance frowning and glaring up at the amused look on Keith’s face.

“It’s not funny,” he grumbles up at Keith, his frown turning into a pout as he sits up. Keith helps Lance up before offering Lance the bathroom first. Lance’s face warms as he stares at where he was once laying, Keith’s brow-raising up at him as he just stands there gawking. He then clears his throat and forces out a bad joke before scurrying to the bathroom.

They both take turns showering and while Lance is taking his, Keith lets his mind wander while he lays on the stiff bed. Keith’s stupid heart makes his stupid brain wonder what it would be like to wake up beside Lance every day, seeing the dried drool on the corner of his mouth and witnessing his sleepy blue eyes come to life the moment they see Keith.

Keith snaps out of his daydream when the bathroom door swings open and reveals a glistening Lance emerging with rolls of steam curling around his body. Keith recognizes the hypnotizing smell of Lance’s vanilla shampoo all the way from the bed, making his heart flutter with the familiar scent.

After Keith takes a brisk shower, they are on the road again. They stop to get breakfast at a diner before leaving the town that they stopped in. It isn’t until they’re in California that they stop again, this time pulling over onto the side of the road. Keith is about to ask why Lance is pulling over when Lance leans against the car and just looks out in front of him. Keith finally takes his eyes off of Lance to look at what Lance has stopped to admire.

When he turns his head, he sees just what Lance is marveling at. Before them are dozens of white magnolia trees that Keith begins marveling at right along with Lance. Keith slowly gets out of the car and leans against it beside Lance, his eyes finding the side of Lance’s face every few seconds. Keith’s eyes widen when Lance suddenly grabs his hand and begins tugging him towards the trees. “Lance! What are you doing? What about the truck?” Keith hollers. Lance just laughs and continues dragging him along without a care in the world, smiling when they reach the sweet-smelling trees.

Lance starts to hum a song as they weave their way between all of the trees, Keith’s heart threatening to beat out of his chest with the way the wind is blowing some of the petals and flowers off of the tree and onto Lance’s hair. They spend quite some time there, their hands still clasped together as they wander around. Keith and Lance end up racing from one tree to another and arguing about who clearly won. Once they settle on that it’s a draw (even though it most definitely wasn’t, Lance), they sit down beneath one of the larger trees to escape the unforgiving sun. They lean against each other and talk about any and everything, Keith’s heart threatening to pop out of his chest when Lance keeps mindlessly playing with Keith’s hands. Lance stops telling a story of something that happened last summer mid-sentence when a whole magnolia flower lands in his lap.

“These are edible, you know,” he says as he picks it up, studying it like it’s one of the greatest wonders of the world.

“What?” Keith asks, not being sure if he should trust Lance or not. This could be revenge when Keith told him that a flower he found on their weekly hike was good and tasted like cinnamon. Lance had been suspicious but ended up going for it anyway and immediately regretting it. Lance just about strangled Keith but Keith had laughed so hard that tears were falling down his face. It made Lance’s job of strangling Keith easier though since his body was so weak from laughter.

“Yeah. They’re actually pretty good. They have a mild ginger taste,” he explains. Before Keith can tell him to prove it, he’s already taking a bite. Keith watches with wide eyes as he chews and swallows, a soft smile coming to his face. Either it’s actually good or Lance is an amazing actor. He offers the flower to Keith and Keith decides to go for it just as Lance went for it when their situation was reversed. Keith found that he was, in fact, not lying.

When Lance finally decides they can leave, Keith stops him with a soft smile. He reaches up, tugs one of the flowers from the tree, and then faces Lance, finding his perfectly waxed brows furrowed together. Keith’s smile grows more as he tucks the flower behind Lance’s ear, causing the Cuban’s face to erupt with color.

Keith has changed his mind. This is what heaven must be like.

Lance finally lets Keith choose some music to play once they continue driving, his hand always coming up to tuck the flower back down behind his ear whenever the wind threatens to blow it away. When Keith plays some of his music though, of course Lance complains about the songs. Keith can tell he doesn’t have any malice behind his words though.

“Do you listen to anything that isn’t loud and dizzying, Mullet?” Lance jabs, turning to look at him with a crooked smile when they come to a stop at a light. Keith scoffs and turns his gaze away from the many shops lining the street to face Lance.

“Do you listen to anything that isn’t repetitive and annoying?” he fires right back with his usual smirk. Lance scoffs just like Keith did before turning his eyes back onto the road, his fingers going back to tapping on the gear shift, which brings Keith’s gaze back to his hand.

When they finally reach their destination in California, the sun is slowly starting to sink towards the horizon. Lance rushes out of the truck stop that they had decided to stop at when he notices it. “Mullet! C’mon! Hurry up! We are going to miss it!” Keith can’t really take him seriously when he’s wearing dollar sign shades that he bought in the gift shop. He’s sure he looks just as ridiculous with his alien eyes shades.

“Miss what?” he asks as he follows Lance at a much slower pace to his truck. Lance doesn’t reply though. Instead, he rips them out of the parking lot before Keith even has his door shut, making Keith screech and holler at him to slow down despite his laughter. He realizes why Lance was in such a big hurry when Lance parks and then flies out of his truck. Keith follows Lance down to the beach, a soft ‘wow’ leaving him when he sees the pretty blue water reflecting the sun that has just touched the horizon. Lance doesn’t seem to think Keith is going fast enough though, seeing as how he snatches his hand up and once again starts dragging him towards the coastline.

When Lance’s bare feet touch the water—wait, when did he take off his shoes?—the biggest smile that Keith has ever seen spreads across Lance’s face. Hunk wasn’t kidding when he told Keith that Lance belongs in the water. Keith smiles and gives his hand a squeeze before turning to look at the setting sun, not even caring that his boots are getting wet right now.

When the sun is gone behind the ocean’s waves, Keith notices they are facing each other with their hands tightly grasped together. Keith isn’t sure how they got into this position but what he is sure of though is that he’s never wanted to kiss Lance more than in this very moment.

“Keith…” Lance suddenly interrupts the peacefulness with a whisper, his eyelids seeming to grow heavy the longer he stares at Keith. Keith is momentarily shocked into silence when Lance uses his name instead of ‘Mullet’ but quickly recovers when he notices Lance slowly getting closer to him.

“Yes?” he whispers back, his voice refusing to get any louder in fear of shattering the dream-like state that they’ve created within the last few minutes.

Instead of verbally replying, Lance leans forward until their noses bump together and their breaths begin to mingle. Keith can taste the spearmint gum that Lance got from the pitstop on his breath, the smell becoming Keith’s favorite scent, second to Lance’s vanilla shampoo. Keith’s heart halts in his chest before going into overdrive when their lips finally touch, Keith’s breath stuttering. As their lips move against each other’s, Keith vaguely listens to the sound of the waves crashing and the seagulls squawking.  

Keith is once again corrected. This is what heaven would be like.

Keith is knocked out of their blissful kiss when a bigger wave suddenly washes over their feet, causing water to spill down into his boots. He pulls away with an aggravated grunt, looking down at the saltwater that is now brimming his shoes. “Lance,” Keith growls despite the fact that it wasn’t necessarily Lance’s fault. Their dumb banter comes more naturally for them than anything else.

“What?” Lance crows with a look of indignation on his face, his arms letting Keith’s cheeks go to cross his arms over his chest. They fall into the usual repartee despite the fact that now their arms are wrapped tight around the other and refuse to let go. Well, that is until Keith goes ‘too far’ and makes Lance splash him with water. Keith glares at Lance like a murderous wet cat, his claws and fangs starting to show. Lance lets out a squeak before taking off down the coastline, his laughter deafening the sound of the waves that still lap at their feet.

Keith catches up to Lance with ease, seeing as how the tanned man isn’t actually trying to outrun his new lover. Keith wraps his arms around Lance’s waist and snatches him back, making Lance’s laughter cut off with a squeal. Keith spins him around which just ends up bringing Lance’s melodic laughter back.

Keith sets him back down and Lance immediately spins around to face Keith, setting their foreheads together. “We should go on another trip soon, Samurai,” he whispers before connecting their lips for another kiss.

⊱ ────── {⋅. ♪ .⋅} ────── ⊰

MASTERLIST

More with Klance

⊱ ────── {⋅. ♪ .⋅} ────── ⊰

[ghostlywritten]

If Only I Had Stayed In The Shadows - Chapter Thirteen

James Potter x OC

A/N: This is more of a short interlude to explain James' thought on everything and a quick pre-taste on Cec's state of mind. I hope, you enjoy. Thank you for all your reviews and thoughts on it.

Words: 2k

Prologue  Chapter One   Chapter Two  Chapter Three  Chapter Four  Chapter Five  Chapter Six  Chapter Seven  Chapter Eight  Chapter Nine  Chapter Ten Chapter Eleven Chapter Twelve

James Potter was restless. He was giddy, he was elated, he was happy. The love of his life had said 'yes' to him! Or would have said 'yes' to him! Same difference. His brown eyes stared wide and awake at burgundy red canopy of his bed. He couldn't find any sleep within him. Not with the amazing revelation that he had discovered no longer than a few hours ago. Or was it only an hour ago?

He had lost any sense of time.

'It did not get me to say yes back then, but...'

'If I had known this side of you before, I might have agreed.'

'To- you know.'

'To going out with me', James thought, smiling as his heart burst in happiness. 'It worked exactly as I had planned. No, as Sirius had planned.' He remembered the party back then, when he tried the new tactic of 'being civil' and Sirius had suggested to take it up a notch. 'He was right all along.' The messy-haired boy turned his head towards the bed, where his best mate's form was sleeping peacefully and jumped up, promptly throwing himself on him.

"What-where-who?!" Sirius spluttered, drool dripping from the corner of his mouth. James couldn't even think about how disgusting that was as he took his head and started planting multiple kisses wherever he could reach. "Oi Prongs, what-"

"Pads, you are the bestest mate any mate could ever ask for," James said word for word between every kiss. Sirius laughed, a smile reaching his eyes as he noticed how happy his brother in all but blood was.

"Of course I am," he boasted, "What made you finally realise it though?" James dropped himself down next to him, facing him with a blissful sigh. "Did you dream about me saving your life or something?"

"Yeah, something like that," James grinned, his eyes lit up and Sirius' smile widened, appreciating how infectious his good mood was. "You won't believe what happened today."

"Have you finally realised that I'm the better Quidditch player than you and are here to congratulate me?" Sirius guessed jokingly.

"Wha- no! Be sirius!" Sirius opened his mouth. "No, don't go there!"

"Wow," the grey-eyed boy chuckled, "you won't even let me do my signature joke. This must be big."

"It is," James looked at him with wide excited eyes, "You won't believe what Lily said to me today!"

Sirius blinked at him. "Evans?"

"Yes, Lily Evans," James replied impatiently, wondering if his best mate got hit on the head whilst Sirius wondered when the last time had been that he had mentioned her. "We talked today after studying and she literally told me that she would say 'yes' to me asking her out!"

Sirius' mouth opened but he was speechless. "What?" he cleared his throat, feeling dread creep up on him.

James giggled - actually giggled - in delight. "She said, if she had known this side of me that I've been showing her lately she would have said 'yes', Sirius! How bloody amazing is that!"

"Yeah, really amazing," Sirius said half-heartedly before looking at his mate grinning to himself in bliss, "But I mean, it doesn't matter anymore anyways, right?"

"Why? What do you mean?" James asked him confused and Sirius stared at him as if he were crazy. "Because you are with Cec now? You know, your girlfriend?!"

James' smile faded as he thought of his current girlfriend. "Yeah, Cec is the only hindrance right now. Lily will surely say yes when I'm not taken anymore."

Sirius stared at him in disbelief. "So, you're just gonna disregard her like that? Throw her away now that the red-head has finally decided to pay attention to you?"

James furrowed his eyebrows. "I don't understand why you are so surprised. This was the plan all along. Your plan, Pads." Sirius' heart dropped as he realised what his mate meant. 'I'm just saying that if you want this new tactic to work and make it actually believable you will have to go out with someone else. You know, make her see what she is missing and what she could have had…make her come to you.' "I thought you would be happy about this," James continued to ramble, feeling his elation deflate the more he thought about Cec himself. 'She will understand.'

"That- bloody hell, James," Sirius said, frustration clear in his voice, "I only said that so you would finally get your head out of Evan's ass and move on."

James frowned. "How would that have happened with that plan in mind?"

"I don't know, I thought you would bloody forget about the plan," Sirius sat, sitting up as he got more agitated, "Hell, I forgot about it long ago." James raised himself up as well, opening his mouth but his best mate cut him off, "I didn't think you would go along with the relationship for so long just for the slightest possibility that Evans would say yes to you. You were freaking together for almost a year."

"Eight months," James corrected, causing him to roll his eyes, "And of course, I didn't forget about the plan. It was the reason why I got together with Cec in the first place."

"Yeah, but I didn't think you were faking it this whole time."

"I wasn't faking it!" Sirius raised an eyebrow and James shook his head, confused why that had been his immediate reaction to the accusation, "I mean, I wasn't really faking it. I like Cec, but as a friend."

Sirius snorted, "Sure, your snogging sessions in every corner in this school was just friendly."

"That was just...practice-"

"Sure, it was."

"-for when I'm finally with Lily."

"James, you sound like a real dick right now," Sirius said deadpanned. James sighed frustrated, all the happiness gone. "I don't get it. You were all for it at first. Even came up with the bloody plan." He stilled as he watched his grey eyes flash with guilt and calmed down. "What changed your mind now?"

"Just...Cec is a great girl. And she made you great, too," Sirius said simply and he shot him a surprised look, "She made you reflect on everything more, think more about your future and what you're gonna do. We all started talking more about serious stuff and not just about who we are going to prank next."

"We didn't only do that!" James protested and Sirius sighed tiredly, "No, of course not. But most of the time."

James stayed quiet for a thoughtful second before remarked, "She is a good listener."

"And good with advices," Sirius added.

"And good in comforting."

"Definitely."

"And good in lightening up the mood...conversations are always easy with her," James continued and Sirius watched him silently as he noted his chocolate brown eyes glaze over as he remembered all the times with her, "Even silences are comfortable with her. And she is a bloody good Quidditch player. I bet you my life that the Montrose Magpies will recruit her some day...," James trailed off, her smiling face clear in his mind, "...yeah, she is great friend." Sirius groaned, hitting his face with his palm.

"What?" James asked, blinking.

"How can you still consider her with all the things you've just listed?" Sirius said exasperated.

"Sirius, I would bloody say all that about you as well," James countered back, causing his grey eyes to soften, "Except for the thing with the Montrose Magpies. You are not that good of a Quidditch player." Sirius scoffed, punching his arm lightly and they chuckled quietly together. "But you see what I mean. I consider Cec as a friend, a very good friend."

Sirius sighed in defeat. "And Lily," James continued, a besotted smile gracing his features, "She's just the light of my life. She is so beautiful and smart and always knows what to say. And she is funny-"

"Alright, alright. I get it," Sirius cut him off, dreading his long-ass speeches about Evans that he had not missed at all in the past months. "So, what are you gonna do now?"

"Well, explain everything to Cec, break up and then ask Lily out. Duh."

"She's so going to hate you for this," Sirius remarked. 'And me, too,' he thought, feeling his heart clench at the thought.

"Who? Lily?"

"No, Cec."

"No," James declined easily, settling back on the mattress with his arms behind his head, "She might get angry, but she will understand." 'She will.' "She always understands me."

"If you say so," Sirius said doubtfully, lying down next to him.

James listened to the breaths of his friends in the silent night, thoughts racing through his mind. Of all the times they had sat together in front of the fireplace in the common room, talking for hours on end. Of the dates they had in Hogsmeade, in the kitchens, anywhere on the Hogwarts grounds. Of her warm and loving gaze only directed at him, making him feel at peace and appreciated. Yeah...she will understand.

...

I sat, staring blankly into the darkness. It was probably way past midnight, maybe even the early morning. Or maybe just an hour had passed since I was hit with the crushing revelation.

I had lost any sense of time.

'It was just an act.'

'We look like we are besotted with each other.'

'James, you dumb asshole,' I thought numbly, only just realising the tears that had welled up and spilled over my cheeks, now that I was engulfed in darkness. I sniffed. 'You stupid, bloody asshole.'

Taking a shuddering breath I thought back on every single moment, wondering if there had been any sign - just a little one - that could have warned me. The sudden interest in me perhaps? I mean, I had been suspicious in his sudden disregard in Lily, but somewhere along the line I had let myself fall into the trap and started dating him. 'I should have persisted more. Maybe he would have told me of this blasted plan and spared me of what I'm feeling right now.' I closed my eyes, pressing a hand against my chest in hopes that it would somehow shield the hurting, beating organ from feeling any pain. An overwhelming pain that was starting to constrict my throat.

Opening my eyes, I desperately looked for any kind of distraction, seeing only a bed, dark tall walls and a few windows in the wish room Sirius had shown me not long ago.

'Sirius!' I bit the inside of my cheek as another painful wave hit me. Had he known about James' plan to use my oblivious self for his own selfish reasons, regardless of what would happen to me?

They were best friends, I would be surprised if he hadn't known.

A whimper escaped me as I staggered up and trudged towards the bed, dropping myself on it and curling up into the ball as tight as I could.

How life-changing a few seconds could be..

[forasecondtherewedwon]

Stare Enough

Fandom: The Falcon and the Winter Soldier Pairing: Sam Wilson/Bucky Barnes Rating: T Word Count: 4034

Summary: Bucky's got a new stare. Sam spends all afternoon and most of the evening working up the courage to meet it.

Both Sam and the food are the main attraction at this party and the problem with that situation is that it takes so damn long for one main attraction to get a second to enjoy the other.

He’s grateful—god, is he grateful—for the turnout. Friends, neighbours, the kind of people he and Sarah call family without there being any actual relation by blood, they’ve all shown up. Since the Blip, Sam’s felt like he’s always around, but this feels like a real homecoming. No sadness, nothing bittersweet. It’s a celebration and he’s at the center of it. Him and the food.

At last, Sam’s done the circuit with his plate, spooning creamy salads and grilled vegetables, stacking shellfish pink as a sunrise. There’s a fresh-baked roll perched atop a scoop of sweet potatoes and caramelized onions that smells so fucking warm and mouth-watering he has to resist walking with his nose buried in it. He collects a set of utensils furled in the middle of a paper napkin (courtesy of an efficient assembly line of old ladies, chatting and twisting neat rolls of cutlery), plate bowing into the palm of his other hand, and that’s when his damn phone vibrates in his pocket.

Sam halts and makes a sound of frustration. Nobody’s come to this thing empty-handed, so there are dishes crowding the surface of the tables, no place to set his plate down. His phone vibrates again. A teenager comes up to peruse the spread in front of him and Sam sighs, knowing what he’s about to do.

“Here,” he says heavily, offering up his beautifully arranged and wonderfully fragrant meal. The cob of corn shining with the butter he lovingly smeared over it nearly rolls over the edge. “You’re the luckiest kid in the world.”

Quickly, Sam turns away, sliding out his phone and bringing it to his ear. He doesn’t want to witness the boy digging in. His stomach growls as he greets Joaquin Torres.

“Sam,” Torres says. “Uh, I mean, sir. Mr. Captain Am… Captain Wil—”

“Take it easy,” Sam laughs. “You know me, Torres. Don’t get starstruck now.”

“Honestly, I never really got over you being the Falcon. Now that you’re Captain America… Apologies if it takes me a little while to be cool about it.” After a pause—taken while Torres attempts to become cool with Sam being Captain America, Sam assumes—he asks, “You celebrating?”

Not far from where Sam’s standing, there are two little girls singing along to their clapping game. At a table behind them, a trio of elderly gentlemen are arguing over which one of them it was that caught that 50-pound snapper off the dock back in 1978. There’s a sear of meat and fish being rotated onto and off of the grill and, bouncing over everything, music from a speaker someplace.

“Yeah,” Sam says with a broad grin. “Yeah, we are. I’d save you a plate, but I can’t even manage to hang onto my own.”

He doesn’t mention that Torres is responsible for that situation; he’s aware that, besides being a fan, the Lieutenant is a little bit infatuated with him. Sam’s trying to be gentle until the day he can respond to Torres with friendly smack-talk, the way he would Steve or Scott or Bucky. Maybe not exactly like he does with Bucky.

“Don’t worry about it,” Torres cheerfully insists. “I wasn’t calling for that, I just wanted to give you a heads up about something.”

“Alright. Let me just…”

Sam strides away from the heart of the party towards the water, seeking quiet. Kids dart in front of him and that’s nothing unusual, but when he follows them with his gaze, he sees they’re running towards Bucky. Bucky, who has his Vibranium arm extended and two kids dangling off it already, one of whom might be Sam’s nephew. Of course, Mr. Casual, Mr. Smiles, Mr. Social Butterfly, is carrying on a conversation like his arm isn’t being used as a jungle gym. A conversation with Sarah.

For just a moment, Sam stops in his tracks, considering whether he should go over there and break up any potential flirting. But then he watches them. Bucky’s just talking to her, not flicking his gaze up and down while he checks her out. And Sarah, she’s relaxed and smiling, totally at ease, like Bucky’s another member of their community. That makes him a friend. Family.

That’s one thought too far and Sam jerks himself into motion again, walking until he’d be swimming with another step.

“What’ve you got for me?”

“Well, I’ve been trying to watch as much of the coverage of the fight outside the GRC vote as I can, trying to get a sense of how they’re spinning Walker’s reappearance, the legacy of the Flag-Smashers now that Karli and her inner circle are gone… Anyway, there’s a lot of footage and you’re at the center of most of it.”

“Guess the new suit draws the eye. And the cameras.” It’s no surprise to Sam. Part of the job of being Captain America.

“Yeah, but…”

“What is it, Torres?”

“Bucky’s in the background a lot,” he explains in a voice that tells Sam there’s more Torres isn’t saying.

“Makes sense. He was in the thick of it as much as I was.”

“He’s there at the end too. When you were talking to the Senator about power and the common struggle. Man, that was a great speech. Do you think—”

“Torres. Please. The point.”

“Right, for sure, man. Bucky never takes his eyes off you.”

That flusters Sam for a second. He wasn’t expecting the blunt delivery, especially of those words. He squints down at the water where it’s lapping the side of the dock. He knew Bucky was there; they spoke right after, when Bucky tried to feed him that bullshit (and he knew it was bullshit at the time) about texting and missing the exact speech Torres is apparently still hung up on.

“So Bucky was actually listening to me,” Sam says carefully. “That’s a surprise, but it isn’t really the kind of thing that’s significant enough for you to bother notifying me about, is it?”

“I’d say that depends on what you consider significant.”

“Torres.”

“I know, but he’s not just listening! It’s how he’s looking at you!”

“Like he’s wishing I would wrap it up?” Oh, Sam remembers Bucky’s miracle from their session with Dr. Raynor.

“Like he’s totally into you! Major heart eyes. Sir,” Torres hastily adds.

And Sam should reprimand him for this. Calling with a trivial piece of information when he must know Sam’s already being very selective about which of the hundreds of recent calls (and it’d be more if more people had this number) he chooses to pick up. Calling to speculate on how Bucky was staring at Sam that night in New York.

“I don’t need to tell you this is gonna be one of those investigations we keep between you and me,” Sam states.

“For sure. I just thought maybe you’d wanna know.”

“Uh huh. You get any real news, you pass it along.”

“I will.”

Sam ends the call and turns. He looks to his right: the sparkling river. His left: his people, all the way down to the squirt with the glasses who’s hanging off a metal arm, and the man that arm belongs to.

He’s felt it, the way that Bucky stares. It’s not like it used to be though, when it irked Dr. Raynor at the police station in Baltimore, or confused Walker and Hoskins in the back of that jeep in Germany. This new stare of Bucky’s isn’t one Sam’s ever caught him doing. Bucky hasn’t quite let him. That’s actually how Sam noticed it was happening—Bucky would immediately glance away instead of leaving that dead expression on his face when Sam met his eye. Now that he has proof of it, proof he’s certain Torres would send him footage of in an instant if he asked, he’s scared to look.

Instead, he watches Bucky look at other people. Like Sarah. Like kids from the neighbourhood. His literal hangers-on disperse as Sam observes, scattered after Bucky leans towards them to say something. Sam sees half his smile and even that much has his heart swelling up in his chest. Bucky weaves through the tables and standing groups, the dancers and the kids who’ve broken out a skipping rope. (After eating from that buffet? Kids are crazy. Gonna make themselves sick.)

Without thinking too hard about it, Sam returns to the noise and the smells, trailing Bucky with a stealthy eye on his ass in those jeans. There’s no friction here between him and everybody else Sam cares about, he can see that in every short, friendly exchange someone engages Bucky in as he walks. Things flow as smoothly as the butter oozing off the corn Sam reluctantly gave up. Clearly, they remember Bucky from when he was here helping with the boat. They respect him. They like him. They’ve gotten to that last thing faster than Sam has, which makes Sam feel a little embarrassed as well as a little overwhelmed by how much the two of them have actually been through. He’s seen Bucky as a mindless killer and it almost brings a genuine tear to his eye—here on this glorious day in front of all these folks—to see the dork who rushed out to get his hands on a copy of The Hobbit in 1937 return in his current form as the dork who’ll take a fake punch from AJ and blush over brazen old women telling him how handsome he is.

Bucky stares different? Well. Sam feels different about the staring.

Sam keeps his distance until Bucky reaches the food, then his stomach gurgles a reminder than he hasn’t eaten yet. No ass is nice enough to distract him from his meal. He sidles up beside him and Bucky seems unsurprised, not even glancing over.

“Anything important?” he asks.

“What?”

“Your phone call,” Bucky clarifies, adding a heap of glossy green beans to his plate. Damn, those are some of Sam’s favourite. Bucky better not take all of them. “They need us somewhere?”

“Oh. No.”

Bucky shoots him a suspicious look after this stilted response, but he doesn’t say anything until Sam grabs a plate of his own, hungry eyes roving the feast that’s diminishing now that people have started coming back for second helpings.

“Put that down,” Bucky instructs. He doesn’t wait; he takes the plate out of Sam’s hand and tosses it back towards the pile. Thankfully, the plates are made of paper.

“Buzz off, man,” Sam tells him, reaching for the plate again. “I’m starving.”

“I figured.”

Wait.

“That’s for me?” he guesses, gazing longingly at the plate Bucky’s preparing.

“Yep.”

When Sam doesn’t reply, Bucky pauses with the plate in one hand and a serving spoon in the other and sighs.

“I didn’t want you to miss the good stuff. This party’s for you.”

“I think it might be for both of us.”

Bucky seems too self-conscious to say anything to that. He goes back to loading up Sam’s plate while Sam quietly feels his throat close up with emotion as he watches. He clears it gruffly.

“I woulda had to eat the cake you brought,” he jokes. “Pretty sure only the really little kids have eaten any. You know, people who don’t know better.”

“I was tryin’ to be a good guest.”

“I can’t believe you brought a store-bought cake,” Sam says, laughing as he grabs a set of cutlery for the second time and continuing to shuffle along next to Bucky.

“Have you ever seen me cook?”

“…No.”

“Exactly. Trust me, what I did was kinder.”

“If you say so.”

“You know what, Sam?” Bucky demands challengingly, turning to face him. “I do say so.”

Sam’s eyes go from the plate Bucky’s holding between them up to Bucky’s face. He’s close. And he’s got this look, this dancing look in his eyes that undercuts the shit out of the hard line of his eyebrows. Trying to seem all stern. All Sam can think for several seconds is that, if he just grabbed Bucky by the chain around his neck and hauled him forward, they’d never get the food stains out of their clothes. But their laundry would smell delicious.

He clears his throat.

“Then you better stay for a while.”

The corner of Bucky’s mouth twitches up and he hands Sam the plate he’s prepared for him.

“I plan to.”

When Sam picks a table to sit at, he makes sure there’s enough room for Bucky too. When Bucky sits next to him, he sits so close that their thighs press together and claims that’s all the space there is. Bucky talks and laughs when other people at the table talk to him. He’s easily drawn into conversation now and Sam feels weirdly proud of having brought this great guy home to meet everybody, even if he’s not here like that. People tells stories about last week and last century interchangeably, one old smartass making Bucky howl with laughter when they toss out a memory of Little Sam Wilson streaking from his house to the river for a naked swim. This is the danger of welcoming Bucky into the community. Sam, suppressing a smile, doesn’t really mind.

Elbows up on the table so he can eat, talk, and gesture emphatically with his fork, Sam feels Bucky’s stare creeping up on him. Slow, like the sun slides across the landscape when the clouds blow past. Bucky didn’t make this food, but Sam can feel his satisfaction as he watches Sam accept what he provided. Feels like there are grasshoppers springing around in his stomach. He still has a roll on his plate, one side soaked in family-secret barbecue sauce, and he tears it in half. While the rest of their table are caught up in some story being boisterously told by overlapping voices, Sam turns to Bucky and wordlessly offers the bread, edges dimpled where he gripped to split it. They watch each other chew and Sam’s closed mouth is smiling.

Inevitably, somebody pulls Sam back into the conversation and he does his best to laugh and heckle, covering the fact that he wasn’t listening, that he dropped the thread. The voices rise and rise and fall like water slopping over the side of a bucket.

In the next quiet moment, Bucky inclines toward him slightly and says, “You wanna talk later?”

And Sam says, “Sure.”

The day feels long, long, long, and Sam’s face gets sore from smiling, tired from talking. He does not confess that to Bucky, who’s almost always at his side. Lights go on overhead and beers come out of coolers, leftover food packed up and redistributed among neighbours, small children with drooping eyelids toted home. At first, Sam thinks Bucky’s leaning into his side because he’s drained from so much socializing too, but when he meets his eye, he just sees an invitation.

“Where are you two goin’?” Sarah asks when they slink past her carrying a too-big Cass in her arms.

“Just walkin’,” Sam tells her.

“Gotta stretch our legs,” Bucky contributes.

She looks from Sam to Bucky and back, smiling knowingly.

“Uh huh,” Sarah says.

Sam grabs Bucky by the shoulder to turn him forcibly away from his sister’s insinuations and just… forgets to let his hand fall as they wander along the water. Bucky’s steps angle towards his until his arm’s bumping Sam’s side, Sam’s arm slung around his shoulders. Is this still the body language of a couple buddies on a warm Delacroix night? Is it now, when Sam drops his arm and brushes the back of his hand across Bucky’s?

They leave the party lights on the horizon with the lazily setting sun, scrabbling off the end of the dock and onto the riverbank. Sam reaches up to give Bucky a hand down, so he won’t step in the soft mud and sink to his ankles. Bucky clasps his hand firmly and jumps.

The sound of people drops off down here and the sound of wind in grass, frogs hiding between reeds, rises.

“Are there alligators in here?” Bucky wonders, scanning the river’s edge.

Sam laughs.

“For sure.”

“And you swam here when you were a kid?”

“Even then,” Sam boasts, puffing his chest out, “my courage was legendary.”

“Yeah, and your nudity. Is there anyone within a mile of here who hasn’t seen your bare ass?”

Their eye contact holds. Oh right. Sam breaks away with an awkward, hiccupping laugh, directing his gaze at the dirt.

“The gators haven’t gathered too close to the dock in decades,” he promises Bucky. He stares out at the undisturbed water, enjoying the sun on his face. “Got skittish of the boats. Most of ’em, anyway.”

“Consider me not entirely reassured.”

“You scared of a little Louisiana lizard, man? Didn’t you grow up with Creature from the Black Lagoon?”

“Nah, that was after my time.”

“Damn, you’re old.”

Bucky snorts a laugh, refusing to look at him.

“You wanna take a dip?” Sam goads.

“No.”

But by the time Sam’s pulling his shirt over his head, Bucky’s peeling off his socks. Sam spares him a smile and keeps going, the ground soft underfoot. It could be like the few times they’ve changed in proximity to one another before, but it’s not. He senses Bucky’s eyes on him the whole time. Face hot, he takes a quick look in Bucky’s direction as he’s unzipping his jeans. His heart feels like his new suit—wings just waiting to unfurl.

When they’re down to their underwear, they wade in.

God, it feels nice. The water’s cool and the sun’s clinging to the horizon.

“Just don’t get any water in your mouth,” Sam instructs, then dunks his face and comes up squirting water at Bucky from between the gap in his front teeth, a trick he perfected as a kid. “That arm ain’t gonna rust, right?”

“You asked for this,” Bucky warns. He points a menacing finger and plunges below the surface.

Sam twists as he treads water, trying to see what’s going on down there, searching for a ripple or bubbles of released air. His legs move in twitchy kicks because that’s where he’s expecting Bucky to grab him. But the idiot is playing some kind of psychological game first, making Sam wait a full minute. Two minutes. Three.

He’s opening his mouth to call out Bucky’s name when he breaks the surface. Sam’s ready to swap the concern he was about to form into words into a taunt instead—did Bucky get down there and decide the scariest thing he could do was let Sam’s imagination take over?—until Bucky shakes his head and slicks his hair back. Then the words get caught in Sam’s throat and he just kinda stares.

“There was a really gross fish down there,” Bucky informs him. “Do you guys have eels there? Mighta been an eel. Maybe we should get out.”

“Alrighty, scaredy-cat, let’s get you to shore.”

Bucky propels himself out in front, arms moving in powerful strokes, and Sam’s hand darts out on instinct, fingers closing around Bucky’s hard calf muscle. Bucky jerks and Sam burst into loud laughter.

“Did you think that was an eel? Did you?”

“You’re lucky I…”

I’m lucky you what? Sam wants to ask when Bucky trails off, but he just swims after him.

During their game/possible eel panic (there’s no way it was an eel), they weren’t always fighting the current, so they’ve drifted downstream some. Bucky takes sloppy, sloshing steps out of the water, underwear that might’ve been light grey now dark and plastered to his ass. Sam feels like he’s choked on river water, though his mouth is dry. He lumbers out too and they begin the march back in the direction of the dock and their clothes. The water tickles as it runs down Sam’s legs; must be bugging Bucky too because he plucks his waistband away from his skin before letting it snap back. Clenching his jaw, Sam stops himself from trying to see too much.

This end of the dock is made of old boards before it transitions to pavement farther down, wood smooth on Sam’s feet when he and Bucky haul themselves up, dropping their collected clothes and shoes into a single pile. No point getting dressed until they’re dry, so they sit on the edge of the dock, feet swinging. Feels good. Feels home. They don’t speak until the sun’s set, the sky orange, then grey, then rich, velvety blue.

“You know, don’t you?” Bucky asks softly.

“Know?”

“Yeah, you know. Whenever you don’t know something, you talk and talk—”

“Sometimes I can work through a problem better if I vocalize,” Sam explains.

“But when you do know,” Bucky goes on, ignoring Sam’s input, “you’re quiet.” He looks at Sam. “You’re quiet.”

What else is Sam? Nervous. His skin’s prickling with it, and because even the warm air feels cold when he’s just climbed out of the river. There’s a wet patch spreading around him that he can barely see with evening rapidly deepening into night. He lifts a hand from the dock and sweeps it up his neck, brushing water droplets away.

Without glancing over, he says, “You’re doing that thing you do.”

“What?”

“Staring. That new stare you do.”

“Maybe,” Bucky acknowledges. A bird starts calling, the sound drifting in and away like the sway of a hypnotist’s watch and Bucky’s silent until it’s over. “Maybe I’m staring for the same reason you’re quiet.”

Sam waits. Bucky doesn’t add anything, so Sam turns to look at his face, hung with cool shadows.

“You’re not gonna say it, are you?”

“I thought you would say it,” Bucky argues defensively.

“You’re the one who’s been staring at me like that for a week. You should go first!”

“Please, you don’t even know how I’m staring at you, I only do it when you’re not looking.”

“Do it now then and see what happens,” Sam dares him.

“Fine.”

Just like that, Bucky locks in like Sam’s attention is the only handhold on a sheer cliffside. Vital and stable, a last chance, the one thing around him that wants to help him higher instead of watching him fall. A lot of that’s familiar from his regular hard stare, but then something opens up behind his eyes. Some fragile thing (that might be Bucky’s sense of caution) breaks. Suddenly, Sam’s seeing what Joaquin saw in the news footage and amateur cell phone video. Except he’s seeing it two feet in front of him. It’s intense. It makes the air a little harder to breathe.

Bucky’s lips curve into a smile, then part as he says, “I love—”

Hopefully, he wasn’t going to end that sentence with ‘store-bought cake,’ because Sam can’t really take back his reaction. The finger slipping behind Bucky’s ear as he cradles his face, the mouth sealed to his. Especially that. Thankfully, Bucky kisses him back, just as hard, and then harder.

“Thank god,” Sam pants when they break apart.

“You interrupted me.”

“I got you to stop talking? Guess we’re in my miracle.”

“I’d complain…” Bucky shrugs. “…but your miracle is pretty nice.”

“Not bad, right?”

He sighs and looks out over the water. Bucky pushes up on his fists and sits closer, offering his hand for Sam to interlace their fingers.

“Hey,” Sam prompts when it hits him that it’s super dark outside and they aren’t gonna dry much more like this, “did you book a hotel room again?”

“You kiddin’ me? I spent all my money on that cake.”

Sam laughs.

“Right, well, I guess you need a place to stay tonight then.”

“You know anything nearby?” Bucky asks with a soft smile.

Getting to his feet and bracing to pull Bucky up after him, Sam uses his free hand to motion towards their clothing pile.

“Put your pants on,” he says, “and I’ll see what I can do.”