#but on the upside half of my jokes MAY be slightly more amusing than that

[ninbinary]

so one time i DUNE referenced,

..and called a Benejeserat Witch, “Benny-and-the-Jets Rat-wich“. 8D That may be probably my most average joke.

[wondernimbus]

a day in hogsmeade — ron weasley

pairing: ron weasley x female!reader

summary: ron weasley may be one awkward lad who can’t hold reader’s gaze for any more than ten seconds, but he is also terribly endearing. 

a/n: @glisseoo​ asked for some ron fluff so i shall deliver

requests are closed for now. please refrain from plagiarizing my work! 

"You do realize you've been staring at me for the past minute, right?"

The redhead next to her flushes the same hue as his hair and puffs his cheeks out, gaze skittering away. "I wasn't," he says indignantly, sounding far too defensive, snorting out a laugh as though the mere idea of it is outrageous. “Why would I be.. ha.. staring at you.. ridiculous.."

[Y/N] shakes her head, grinning.

Ron Weasley is one awkward lad; it has only taken her an hour into their date at Hogsmeade to realize this. Part of her had been expecting it ever since he'd come up to her in the Great Hall three days ago, a furiously blushing mess as he blubbered something about asking her out. Looking back on it, despite him having rambled on in front of her for about half a minute, all she can really remember—all she'd vaguely made out at that moment through his constant stammering—were the words "Hogsmeade" and "this Saturday" and "want to—um—go with me". 

She’d said yes, of course. Ron Weasley may be awkward, but she can't deny herself the pleasure of going on a date with a very cute—and apparently very funny, according to the rumors—redheaded boy. 

And to be honest, his awkwardness is quite endearing. [Y/N] finds herself laughing every five minutes or so whenever she spots him downright staring at her—and whenever she catches him, he always tears his gaze away and pretends to be preoccupied with something else.

Ron does it again now, as [Y/N] surveys the Honeydukes shelves and glances at him out of the corner of her eye. The effect is almost immediate; the moment her eyes land on his, he looks away, hand flying up to randomly pluck a box of—ah, Cockroach Clusters—off of the shelves.

"Interesting choice," muses [Y/N], turning around to properly face him, twiddling with a box of Bertie Bott’s Every Flavor Beans in her hands. "Can’t say I’ve ever seen anyone pick up a box of Cockroach Clusters for their own enjoyment—it almost always has something to do with some sort of practical joke.”

Ron coughs and puts the box back on the shelf. "Was just looking."

[Y/N] purses her lips together to contain the giggles threatening to burst out from behind them. She smiles down at her feet for a moment, lips pinched in a poorly-concealed smile, and then gestures to the row of Cockroach Clusters. "Well," she shifts on her feet, "Have you ever tried them?"

Ron's eyes widen. He practically blanches and says, "Never. My brothers—Fred and George—tricked Percy into eating it once.. don't think he was the same ever since."

[Y/N] laughs at this. Ron looks up, seemingly pleasantly surprised at her reaction, and then laughs quietly under his breath, hand reaching up to rub the back of his neck. "That does sound like Fred and George," [Y/N] giggles. "Do you take after them?"

"Gah, no." They’ve started walking now, Ron keeping pace next to her in the narrow aisle, their shoulders brushing slightly. "Mum would have a heart attack. She’s got enough on her platter with two troublemakers in the family already."

[Y/N] raises her eyebrows and glances up at him. "You sure you aren't one? I’m in your Potions class, you know. I’ve heard you talk back to Snape plenty of times."

Ron flushes red not for the first time that day. "Can't really help it. He’s a bit of a git." And then he adds, "Sorry."

"Oh, don't be." [Y/N] waves a hand in the air as though to brush it off. "You’re not wrong. Can’t keep his nose out of other people's business—you know he gave my friend detention once for disrupting his class when all he did was sneeze?"

"I remember that. Wasn’t that Ernie?"

"Exactly—Ernie Macmillan. Snape made him clean the trophy room."

Ron makes a sound in the back of his throat like a snort. "Ah. The trophy room. Probably didn't have much to clean, then. I scrubbed the bloody hell out of those trophies four years ago when I got detention."

[Y/N] laughs, nudging him lightly by the elbow. "And you say you're not a troublemaker."

This time, Ron doesn't blush beet red; he actually laughs, and [Y/N] is pleased at how he's managed to ease up a little. Shrugging, he admits, "Suppose I am. Not as bad as the twins, though, as I’m sure you know."

"I and the rest of the castle," [Y/N] affirms, giggling. They’ve reached the cashier by now—and speak of the devil; the Weasley twins are standing in line, though their backs are turned. "Isn’t that them?" asks [Y/N] curiously, looking to Ron for confirmation.

But the sight she's met with is rather comical. All the color seems to have drained from Ron's face; he looks like he's seen a ghost. Gaping a little, eyes wide in what looks like panic, he clears his throat and says, "I think we should go."

But luck is not on Ron's side, because either Fred or George—[Y/N] can't really tell which one—turns around, and at the sight of their younger brother, beams widely and exclaims, "Ron! Fancy seeing you here, dear brother!"

"Fred," says Ron through gritted teeth, and then, once the other twin has turned around, "George."

"Shopping for sweets, aren't we?" grins George. 

And then, seemingly at the same time, their gazes land on [Y/N], who stands at Ron's side, amused. An identical flicker of surprise crosses the both of their faces before Fred manages to say, with his eyes darting between the two of them, "Is this what I think it is?" 

"Oh, my." George’s mouth has fallen open in an incredulous laugh. "Is ickle-Ronniekins on a date? with [Y/F/N], no less?"

[Y/N] side-eyes Ron to see that he has tensed and is glancing around as though in search for the nearest exit. She scoffs a little at the twins, and, sending them an exasperated look, scolds them by saying, "Oh, leave 'Ronniekins’ alone. He’s been nothing but sweet the entire day."

Their grins grow even wider. "Isn’t that right?" says Fred, tone still teasing. "Well, I must say: We're proud of you, Ronniekins. See you've finally found it in you to ask out the girl you've been obsessing over for two whole years now."

[Y/N]'s eyebrows rise up in intrigue. Ron's cheeks, meanwhile, flush an even darker shade of red. "I'm not—" he begins.

"And since you two are together—"

"We’re not—" Ron tries again. 

"—you ought to start teaching him how to play Quidditch, [Y/N], you being a Hufflepuff chaser and all," Fred continues smoothly. Up ahead by the cashier, someone has successfully made their purchase; the twins take a step back, moving up the line without even looking behind them. "Ron’s planning on trying out for the Gryffindor team next year, you see."

"What the—how do you know that?” Ron gapes. 

"We’d teach him ourselves," says George, sighing, "But Ron's temper is a little—ah—"

"Fiery?" Fred suggests.

"Let’s just say one time he grabbed my Beater bat in mid-air and whacked me upside the head with it."

An amused laugh leaves [Y/N]'s lips before she can even think about suppressing it. "Is that true, Ron?" she says, tone playfully scolding.

Ron rolls his eyes, grumbling, "That was after they jinxed my broom to let out farting noises every five seconds."

Another laugh. "Interesting," she hums. "Well, thanks for the tip, you two." And then, narrowing her eyes at them good-naturedly, "I’ll be sure to teach your brother Quidditch—with a method that doesn’t involve farting jinxes, of course."

Fred and George beam. They’re up next in line. "I bagsy best man at your wedding," Fred announces, swiveling around to face the cashier.

"No, I do—" argues George, turning around to pile up the sweets in his arms on the counter. 

Moments later, the twins are waving their goodbyes, all the while dramatically sobbing into their hands and saying something about their little brother growing up too fast. Fred pats [Y/N] on the shoulder as he passes by, saying in a hushed voice that he'd totally meant for Ron to hear, "Take care of ickle-Ronniekins for us."

And then [Y/N] and Ron are left in the Honeydukes shop, Ron with a flushed face and [Y/N] heavily amused. "That was.." she exhales, laughing as she slides her box of Bertie Botts' Every Flavor Beans across the counter. "Quite something. Are they always like that?"

"Every bloody waking moment," complains Ron, shoulders sagging as he practically deflates against the counter, leaning his hip on it. "Sorry about them, they're.."

"A bit much?”

"That’s an understatement," Ron comments, obviously still spiteful.

"Did you really hit your brother with his own bat?" she glances at him, eyes alight with genuine curiosity as she takes the paper Honeydukes bag from the shopkeeper with a polite "thank you". 

Making their way to the exit, Ron nods, his own eyes shining with a kind of fieriness that [Y/N] can't help but laugh at. Passionately, he says, "And I’d do it again."

She starts chortling at this, walking through the door as Ron holds it open for her. “Interesting group of brothers, you all are," she enthuses, smiling at him somewhat sympathetically once her giggles have faded. It’s still snowing outside; she pulls the ends of her scarf tighter around her neck.

[Y/N] purses her lips, falling quiet for a moment as though pondering over something, and then, her lips tugging up at the edges, she looks up at him and asks, "And have you really been obsessing over me for two years?"

Ron's eyes grow wide and they skirt away almost immediately, hand flying up to scratch the back of his neck like some sort of defense mechanism. "I—I don't—" he sputters out," I mean—not obsessed—" and then he pauses, as though to start over. Shoulders deflating, he mutters, eyes still downcast, "I've.. always found you really pretty, is all."

[Y/N] scuffles her feet against the ground. The smile tugging on her lips is far too insistent, so she just lets herself succumb to it and grin down at her shoes before she looks up at him, eyes alight with mirth, and says, "It's fine, Ron. That's really sweet of you." And because she has a feeling he doesn't want to talk about his—erm—feelings anymore, she asks, "Do you want to go into the Three Broomsticks next? Grab some butterbeer, maybe?"

Ron nods. But his eyes don’t fail to catch onto the way she’s rubbing her naked hands together—she’d forgotten her gloves. He doesn’t pause to ask and instead takes off his own immediately, handing them to her without quite meeting her eyes.

Despite the rush of gratitude this tiny act gives her (and the butterflies it lets loose in her stomach), she holds her palms out at Ron in a stopping gesture, hurriedly saying, “Oh, no—keep them, Ron, your hands will get cold—“

“Just take them,” Ron says, still abashed. “Can’t have you freezing to death.”

She pauses, another fond smile tugging on the corners of her lips, and then exhales defeatedly and takes the gloves from him, putting them on. “Well, I doubt I’d freeze to death,” she mutters, “but thank you.” Once the gloves have fitted snugly around her hands, she looks up at Ron, smiling softly, and says, “Ready to go, then?”

“Yeah, let’s—oh, blimey. I forgot. Wait here!”

Before [Y/N] even begins to register his words, Ron has disappeared and is dashing back into Honeydukes, leaving her standing outside, bewildered.

Isn’t he something else—leaving his date behind, alone in the snow. [Y/N] can’t help but laugh, giggling to herself as she clamps her hand over her mouth, earning strange looks from Hogwarts students passing by. 

Ron Weasley is awkward and a bit of a mess around her, but [Y/N] finds that it’s quite adorable. And it’s certainly an assurance to know that she’s not the only one venturing into unknown territory—this is her first date, after all. And to be completely honest, she’s enjoying it. Initially she thought she’d be having too hard of a time dealing with Ron’s overbearing awkwardness, but it’s quite the opposite, as she’s grown fond both of it and of him in general.

And that fondness only multiplies when Ron bumbles out of the Honeydukes shop a few minutes later, holding an entire block of wrapped chocolate in his hands, which he hands to her.

“Thought you might like it,” he says, abashed, only managing to hold her gaze for a few moments before his eyes are darting away again. “Would’ve bought it earlier.. got distracted..”

[Y/N] tells herself that the pink blush that is no doubt spreading across her cheeks is most definitely because of the cold and not because of a certain Ron Weasley.

Feeling a thousand things all at once—all of which (so be it) have something to do with Ron—she smiles, all crinkled eyes and dimpled cheeks, and stands on her tip-toes to press a kiss to his cheek.

Flushing, she pulls away. This time she’s not quite meeting his gaze, either, as she says, “Let’s get going, shall we?”

Without waiting for a response, she scurries away, cheeks a blazing shade of red as Ron stands there, hand coming up to brush against the spot on his cheek where she’d kissed him.

[poguesofthebau]

dance partners

requested by: @danicarosaline (literally forever ago bc i suck)

summary: you and jj had been besties for as long as the rest of the pogues, but everyone always thought it was strictly platonic. one night at a kegger, though, your relationship with the blonde changes drastically. (we love a lil friends-to-lovers moment!) word count: 2.9k

“this is gonna be an epic night, guys.”

“jj,” you said, rolling your eyes with a light laugh. “you say that on the way to every kegger. we all know you’re just excited to get fucked up.” the rest of the pogues chimed in, agreeing with you as jj flipped you off. the walk to the kegger was longer than most people would be willing to trek, but it was always your favorite part of the night. walking from the Chateau to the Boneyard was one of those little things that probably wouldn’t mean much to anyone else, but times when you could simply bicker and laugh with your best friends meant the world to you.

“y/n, you need to learn to look forward to these kinds of things. you only live once, you know.” he reached out to you, wrapping one arm around your shoulders and pulling you into his side as the other hand, in the shape of a fist, lightly ruffled the top of your head. you grabbed the hand that was resting on your shoulder, spinning yourself out of his gentle grip and conveniently forgetting to remove your hand from jj’s when you were free of his hold. to your left, kie, pope, and john b were exchanging suspicious glances, immediately noticing the lingering touch between their friends. kie snorted in surprise, but other than that, they all kept their mouths shut.

soon enough, the five of you had arrived to the scene of the party. within a few minutes of getting there, you all had red solo cups in hand, spreading out on the beach to mingle a little. after kie got her first refill, always having been the quickest drinker of the pogues, you two broke off from the boys, arms linked together as you roamed around the beach. somehow there was music flooding the beach, and neither you nor kie could stop yourselves from letting out a few dance moves to the songs you knew. you chatted and laughed at the antics of the already drunk teenagers scattering the sand, pointing out those who were doing the funniest shit. “okay, wait. we can’t laugh at those girls,” kie said, nodding toward two kook girls who were clearly too far gone, dancing messily with each other. a small flock of guys had begun to cheer the two on, but they seemed too busy enjoying each other’s company to notice. “that’s gonna be us in like, an hour.” you both laughed loudly, clinking your cups together before downing the rest of their contents without anymore words.

once you had emptied your cup, you turned to figure out how far you’d strayed from where the keg sat. as you scanned the beach, your eyes met jj’s, immediately earning a smile from your friend along with a raise of his own cup. you flipped yours upside down with a joking pout, indicating to the blonde that you were already out of ammo. he waved for you to come over to him, and you nodded with a smile before holding up a finger and turning back to kiara. before you could say anything, you noticed the sudden amused glint in her eye and she began to talk. “pope and jb are making fools of themselves again. i’m gonna go get in on that. i’ll catch up with you later?” you laughed at the two boys she had pointed out, both seemingly trying to limbo without reason.

“yeah, i got jj, so i’ll find you later. good luck with the other morons!” and with that you were parting ways, kie heading straight as you turned and made your way over to jj. “you gonna get me a refill or what, pogue?”

jj bowed sarcastically, grabbing your cup and falling into step beside you as you moved toward the keg. “it’d be my genuine honor, princess.” you scoffed at the nickname, bumping jj’s hip with your own. once again, his arm found its way around your shoulders, and the two of you swayed clumsily over to the source of the beer. “two refills, dude,” jj called to the kid manning the keg. once your cups were full again, you and jj found yourselves a seat in the heart of the chaos, perched on a fallen tree branch that some other pogues were standing in front of. as you laughed at the scene playing out before you (a bunch of touron guys standing in the middle of a circle of people doing ‘parkour’), jj watched you with a smile. the two of you bantered a little, mocking the actions of the people around you as you tried to ignore the feeling of his eyes burning into you. after a few minutes of trying to avoid his glance, you finally gave in. when you caught his eye, the glance you expected to exchange was not at all what you got. in all honesty, you’d never really seen jj with that expression. he looked... smitten. you raised your eyebrows at him, laughing again. “are you laughing at me now? don’t you know better?”

your eyes widened at the question, your cup-less hand immediately coming up to his chest to hold him back from any attacks. “no,” you corrected. “i’m laughing at your face, because i think it might be broken or something. you can’t make a face like that and expect me to take it normally. don’t you know better?” you were leaning into him tauntingly as you spoke, smiles spreading across both of your faces as you did.

“y/n,” jj teased back. “are you trying to get me to kiss you? hm?” your hand then fell from his chest, and you let out a scoff. jj, on the other hand, wasn’t satisfied with that being the end of the conversation. he lifted a hand to flick back a piece of hair that had fallen onto your shoulder, and that same hand somehow found its way to the side of your face. though you were still smirking confidently and comfortably, your insides were getting all sorts of twisted up. what was he doing? was this whole thing still just a joke? “i don’t know if you know this, but, if you are, you don’t have to try that hard. kinda don’t have to try at all.” jj was now wearing an expression you recognized. it was his i’m hot, and i pull girls, and i know it expression. for some reason, that pissed you off a little. slightly offended, you knocked his hand away from your face, turning back to face the tourons. you felt his gaze linger on you, but before either of you could do or say anything else, the rest of the pogues had materialized before you.

all three of them decently drunk at that point, john b and kie were laughing hysterically as pope dazedly looked between you and jj. hopping down from the tree branch and taking a step toward them, you decided to ignore pope’s obviously noticing that something had just happened. “what’s so funny?” you asked, internally hoping whatever they were giggling at would be enough to lift your spirits again. while they explained the joke they couldn’t get over, you essentially downed your second drink. at the tail end of the explanation, jb and kie both broke into more laughter, and this time you joined them. when the laughter faded, you spoke again, this time only to kie. “come get a refill with me?”

kiara looped her arm through yours, nodding with a smile. “of course! we’re off!”

after one more fleeting look at jj (a glance he caught, and even tried to hold), you and kie were walking away. against your own will, you let out a sigh, shoulders slumping a little as you replayed the past few minutes in your head. this time, you got a refill and remained standing by the keg, kie next to you with a drunk but concerned pout on her face. ignoring her, you downed your third drink within a minute, quickly stepping back up for another. that’s a bit better, you found yourself thinking as all the drinks seemed to hit you at once. turning to kie, you smiled insincerely. “what are you thinking about, my little drunk?” her eyebrows knitted together at the question, her head tilting knowingly. she was asking you the same thing. letting out a puff of air, you rolled your eyes but explained yourself nonetheless. “i’m fine! jj just like... implied that he wanted to kiss me or something. i’m just confused, i guess.”

“honey, i just watched you down a cup and a half of beer that you don’t even like. i may be a little bit drunker than you, but i think you’re something other than confused.” her arms crossed insistently across her chest, some of the liquid in her cup falling onto her arm in the process. she giggled at her own mistake, trying her best to wipe the drink away and looking back to you expectantly. “are you gonna explain, or should i go ask jj what he did to you?”

at that, you were vigorously shaking your head. “no, no, no. it’s not that big of a deal. it was just unexpected. i mean, jj hitting on me? that’s weird, isn’t it?” kiara simply shrugged, letting you continue the tangent she knew you were about to go off on. “it’s kind of annoying, too. i’m his best friend. at least, one of his best friends. and now he’s gonna try to, what, conquer me? like he does with the desperate tourons? i’m not a fucking touron. it could’ve been a really sweet moment if he hadn’t--”

“wait, a really sweet moment?” kie interrupted. “oh my god. you wanted him to kiss you!” without hesitation, your hand was clamping over her mouth, both of your eyes wide. peering over your shoulder, you caught eye contact with jj once again from across the beach. he waved nervously, and you threw him a tight lipped smile in return. easily distracted by the boy, your hand fell from kie’s mouth. when she realized she had some leeway to speak, she lowered her voice so only you could hear her words. “awww, you guys are so cute! seriously, since when was this a thing? and how come you didn’t tell me?”

you shook your head lightly, eyes fluttering shut for a second before you answered. “it’s not really a thing. i mean, i don’t think it is? i’ve had this little crush on jj forever, but i never let myself feed into it because it’s jj, you know?” kie nodded sympathetically, tossing a comforting arm over your shoulder. “but now he’s acting weird, and i don’t know what that means.”

taking a deep breath, kie forced you to fully face her, placing a hand on each of your shoulders. (actually, she had one hand on one shoulder, and the other held her full cup, which was being balanced on top of your other shoulder, but it was close enough.) “here’s what i think you should do,” she began, grabbing your full attention at the implication of a solution. “be you. it’s jj, y/n. he’s fucking weird. but, i don’t think you should assume he hasn’t had a little crush on you forever, too, because i’d say he has. but don’t tell him you got that knowledge from me.” you raised your eyebrows, opening your mouth to question her so-called knowledge but being cut off by your friend. “so what i’m saying is, just do what you always do. don’t freak out, or start avoiding him, or any of that shit. just be y/n, be normal, and i’m sure jj will be jj, in that terrifyingly concerning jj way. if something’s gonna happen, it’ll happen. and if not, you’re still y/n and jj, right?” you nodded slowly as you took in her words, your subconscious registering them as the truth. “oh, and one more thing: get drunk with me, please!” even when she was drunk, kie knew just what to say in times of distress. so you listened to her.

you took a few more seconds to let the nerves leave your body and mind, but soon enough you were back with the boys again, in that same spot next to jj. he seemed a little surprised by your return, but didn’t verbally question it. you bumped you shoulder against his with a smirk, and when he concluded that you weren’t upset, his arm was tossed back around your shoulder like nothing had happened.

within thirty minutes, you’d almost forgotten how weird jj was acting. instead, you were focused on being with your friends, and having fun. kiara, pope, and john b eventually began dancing foolishly, tripping over each other and laughing at their own actions. you and jj remained perched in your seats, both swaying and singing along to the music surrounding you. after a few songs of simply watching your friends’ drunken dance moves, jj was hopping down from his spot and putting a hand out for you just as the song changed. you looked at him hesitantly, laughing when he impatiently shook the hand that he wanted you to take. “c’mon, princess. you’re my dance partner. let’s go!” succumbing to his persistence, you put your hand in his and let him pull you from your seat and move you a few steps closer to the source of the music.

conveniently enough, jj had chosen a decently scandalous song for the two of you to dance to. the movements between you were goofy and innocent for the first few moments of the song, but when the bass dropped just before the first chorus began, you felt like every ounce of alcohol you’d had that night was hitting you at once, and your body was basically moving itself. you let jj pull you flush against him as your hips swayed with the beat, your back pressed firmly against his front. he followed your movements, one hand in yours as he tried not to focus too much on the way your ass was moving against him. with one particularly powerful roll of your hips, you had jj lightly groaning behind you, drawing a chuckle out of you as you spun in his arms. “what, you wanted me to be your dance partner and now you can’t handle it?” at that point, you were unbelievably aware of how close your face was to jj’s, but kie’s words were ringing through your head loud enough to keep you from moving away. if something’s gonna happen, it’ll happen.

jj’s arm snaked around your lower back as the two of you continued to dance while you quietly talked. “oh, no, princess. i can handle it.”

“then what’s the problem, dance partner?” your free hand came up to jj’s shoulder, fingers lightly grazing the nape of his neck, and you gave him a small, satisfied smile. maybe kie had told you to act normal, and this wasn’t normal, but it was fun, and you had gotten just as drunk as she’d wanted you to, so who was complaining?

“no problems here. absolutely none,” jj insisted quietly. suddenly, that smitten look from earlier was back on his face. before you could react, the hand that had been stationed on your back was moving to your cheek. he tugged you a centimeter closer, studying your face as he did. when your expression didn’t change, your eyes just flickering down to his lips and back to his eyes, he knew what his next move was. without giving himself another second to overthink it, his closed the gap between your mouths, both of your eyes now shut as you melted into each other. the music was long forgotten, and the (extremely loud) hoots and hollers of surprise from the other pogues were ignored. the hand you’d had around his shoulder was now raking through his hair, and his was holding the back of your head steady. neither of you moved away from the other until the song was changing, and you both realized that the volume of your friends would soon draw a lot of attention to the two of you. when you pulled back, you locked eyes with jj for a few seconds before breaking into laughter and burying your face in his shoulder. “what? am i that bad? you laughin’ at me again, princess?”

you pulled yourself away from the shelter you’d found in his shoulder to look at him again with a surprised smile. “that’s your main concern right now, jj?” he laughed with you, pulling you back into a hug. “by the way,” you murmured in his ear so none of the eavesdropping pogues could hear. “we’re gonna have to talk about that ‘princess’ thing, because i don’t know if i can handle it.”

jj released you from the hug, smiles plastered on both of your faces as you finally turned to face your friends, who were full-on applauding at that point. “we can talk about the ‘princess’ thing later, princess. let’s take a walk first.” and just like that, you and jj were waving sarcastically to your friends, refusing to otherwise acknowledge them (or answer any of the burning questions they were throwing at you), and heading off to a quieter part of the beach. the walk to this kegger had been fun, but you doubted anything could top the walk you and jj were taking now.

tags: @baby-bearie @g4bster @danicarosaline pls lmk if u guys wanna be tagged in all my stuff :) 

[mtherhino]

One Side, Two lives

Chapter seven

YOU WHAT?!

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Warnings: cursing, suggestive comments, Remus

Remus was freaking out. He liked the fucking nerd of all people! The stupid tie wearing stick up his ass nerd! But he is smart, and he’s willing to explore the undiscovered weirdness of the world. Remus blushed slightly at his own thoughts.

“Dam you Logan Sanders, I did not need this today but apparently emotions say otherwise.” Remus grumbled to himself. He was currently sitting upside down on his bed in his room. Everything in his room had been hit by his mace at least once, so there were scratches on the bed post and a thousand holes in the fabrics of, well, everything.

           The duke grumbled and threw a dagger across the room at a target that was barely hanging on. The dagger struck the middle, just like all the others he had thrown that day. The duke sighed heavily.

Remus wasn’t one who really knew how to deal with emotions. He understood them pretty well, a nice thing about being intrusive thoughts is that he could understand situations and people pretty well since his mind never stoped for one second.

           So, taking that into consideration, the only way he knew how to deal with emotions was by destroying things, but he knew that wasn’t going to work this time, no matter how freaking frustrating that was for him. Its not like he can destroy his feelings or kill Logan. Though that would be easier, Remus grumbled in his mind.

           “Gah, stupid fucking feelings.” Remus groaned as he slipped of the bed, hitting his head on the floor. He laid there on the floor trying to figure out how to deal with this. He knew that Deceit wouldnt be any hep in this situation, he would probably just tell him to get over his feeling or that there was nothing to gain from these feelings. So that only left one option on who to talk to. Remus flipped over easily, and walked to his door, having to jump over the many random items on his floor.

           He waked though the door that led to the light sides corridor and went to Roman’s door, seeing Virgil along the way.

Well, might as well screw with someone while I’m here, Remus thought with a smirk. He snuck up behind the other side who was looking at Tumbler on his phone. Remus was pretty good at being quiet when he wanted to, so he was able to get right next to the shorter of the two without him knowing.

“What are you looking at emo?”Virgil jumped a foot in the air and screeched when he heard him. Remus fell on the ground laughing as Virgil turned to him, still looking like he’d seen a ghost or something. Once he recognized the threat as the duke, his startled expression turned into a scowl.

           “Really Remus?” The anxious side said. Remus was still dying of laughter on the ground.

“Dude what was that?! I literally just asked you a question and you practically flew into the air! HAHAHA!” Remus said, its been a while since he’s scared someone that badly.

           The smaller rolled his eyes, he didn’t find it very funny to scare people.

“What are you even doing here? I swear if you are here to give Thomas more nightmares-!” He didn’t get to finish as he jumped back as Remus jumped up, already holding his hands up in a surrendering manner.

“Chill Virge, I just came here to cause a little bit of chaos.” Remus gave a shrug, trying to sell the lie. “What can I say, I got bored bothering Deceit so I decided to come here and bother all of you.”  He smirked at the end of his sentence and Virgil narrowed his eyes at him.

           “You can’t honestly think I’ll let you get away with that.” Virgil said, trying to look intimidating, though it was pretty hard when the other person was a head taller than you. Remus grinned, coming up with an impromptu plan.

“Fine emo, if you can find me in the next 15 minutes, then I’ll leave. Ready? Go!” As Remus yelled the last word he popped out of the hallway and into Roman’s room, startling his brother half to death.

“Re?! What the hell are you doing here?!” Remus was about to answer him when Roman interrupted. “You know what, I don’t even care, I need to talk to you” Roman said, getting off of his bed. He had been panicking the entire day on what to do about his feelings and was actually planning on leaving his room to find Remus before he showed up.

           “Ok in a minute, my matter is more important!” Remus said. Roman completely understood, but all logical thinking was thrown out the window as soon as he had woken up that morning.

“Remus! I’m having a crisis right now!”

“Well so am I asshole! I’m having a gay crisis and I don’t know how to freaking handle it!” Remus said, now pacing around the room, his hands buried in his hair.

“Well I guess that puts us in the same boat since I’m also having a gay crisis!” Roman said, throwing his arms in the air. It took a minute for the words to sink in for both brothers, but once they did they turned to each other with incredulous looked on their faces.

“YOU WHAT?!”

“My brother, who thinks love is stupid and will gag at any romantic scene has a crush?!?!” Roman said disbelief evident in his voice.

“Um, my brother who barely leaves his room? Liking someone?! Why was I not informed of this immediately?!”

“What did you think I wanted to talk about? But that can wait, who do you have a crush on!” Roman said, his eyes practically shining because he got the chance to play matchmaker.

           Remus blushed, he hadn’t told anyone about his feelings, hell he had never even referred to his feeling for Logan as a crush until now. He rubbed the back of his neck in embarrassment.

“Um well, uh.” Dammit why am I nervous talking about this! I can literally talk about any freaking topic but this!The duke covered his face with his hands, now feeling like he had a hundred eyes on him, when in reality it was just one pair of eyes. He looked and saw his brother, practically jumping up and down.

           Remus sighed heavily, knowing that he had to actually tell Roman who his crush is if he wanted his help.

“It’s uh, its Logan” Remus mumbled the last part, nearly making it impossible for anyone to hear, but somehow the prince heard. To say he was surprised would be an understatement.

“Come again?” He asked his brother.

“It’s Logan!” Remus nearly shouted, his cheeks just ever so slightly pink. Roman thought this over for a second.

“Well, that wasn’t what I was expecting, but now that I think about it it kinda makes sense.” Roman said, his hand under his chin as he tried to figure out why he didn’t try to set the two up earlier.

           Remus on the other hand was kinda taken back.

“What?! How does it make sense?! I can’t even figure out why I like that dam nerd!” Remus said, wanting some kind of explanation. Roman looked over at his brother with a bit of a smile, figured that he wouldn’t be able to figure out why he would like someone. That was just Remus being, well, Remus.

“Well you both have this bit of,” Roman gestured to his brother, “weirdness to you.” After he finished his sentence Remus summoned a green pillow and nocked his brother in the face so that he fell on the bed.

           “What? It true you know, your both fascinated by the strange and disturbing.” Roman shrugged. Although it may have sounded like an insult, neither brother had ever had anything against the others interest, so Remus knew that Roman meant it as a joke.

           The green side sighed loudly, though he couldn’t really refute Roman’s point.

“Still, I didn’t even know I could feel,” Remus gestured widely in an amusing manner, making Roman snort, “feelings.” Remus was disgruntled and sat on Roman’s bed, a small scowl on his face. Roman noticed, it wasn’t like his brother to get upset about, well, anything. To be honest, he wasn’t sure on how to handle this, he usually wasn’t the one people came to for advice.

           Roman hummed slightly, as he sat up on the bed, grabbing one of the pillow to hold and lean his head on.

“How do you feel about, liking him” he asked his brother, carefully wording his question, though it still sounded stupid to him. Remus’s thought for a moment, he wasn’t sure how he felt.

“Confused. I’ve never liked someone before Ro, so this is kinda just confusing and I don’t know how to make sense of it.” The prince nodded, and although it wasn’t shown in any way, Remus knew he was telling him to continue. What could he say, they do have a tiny bit of that twin telepathy bullshit.

“Well I can see why I like Logan, he’s great! He likes learning about everything, and he’s able to keep up with my random stream of thoughts.” Although he didn’t know it, Remus had a soft smile on his face while he thought about Logan. “Like you said, he’s, weird.” The duke finished, thinking about how he and Logan had discussed what aliens would look like and why they would evolve to be that way. Almost everyone would have said that it didn’t matter to think of all the what ifs of the universe, but Logan seemed to disagree. Meanwhile, Roman was so very happy for his brother. He had never heard Re talk like that, there was clear admiration in his eyes and fondness in his voice.

“Ok, I never thought that I would say this, but you are adorable.” Roman said. Remus turned red from embarrassment and anger.

“Hey! No I’m not! I’m the scariest thing you will ever meet! I am in no way adorable!” Remus said, well, more like shouted. He pounded his fist onto the bed, making Roman go into a fit of laughter.

“You, you look like, hahaha! You look like a little kid that didn’t get a popsicle! Hahaha!” Roman said in between fits of laughter.

           Remus pouted a little bit and summoned a popsicle from the light sides fridge just to mess with Roman. Did it take a good bit of energy and make him kinda tired? Yes. Was it worth it to see the annoyed face of his brother? Also yes. Without a doubt. He smirked and chomped into the popsicle, smirking when he saw Roman’s horrified face.

           “How the hell did you just bite into literal ice!” Roman yelled, looking almost disgusted. Remus shrugged.

“You can create glitter whenever you want, I can bite into ice with no consequences.” Roman shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts.

“Where getting off track, back onto the subject of you and Logan’s love life.” Remus was so startled by how his brother had phrased that that he fell of the bed.  However he quickly jumped back his feet.

“Why must you phrase it like that!” Roman shrugged.

“I’m just speaking the truth dear brother.” Remus groaned and threw himself back onto the bad.

           “This still doesn’t help my problem.” Remus said, his voice slightly muffled by the pillow. He turned his head to face his brother. “What do I do with these feelings” Roman took a minute to think. Although Roman was the romantic side, that didn’t mean he was actually good with how to get a significant other. That being said, he did have a small idea of what people naturally like and their emotions, especially when it involved the other sides.

           “Well, are you trying to get him to eventually go on a date with you?” Roman asked, it was an important thing to know if he was going to help. Remus blushed a little and rubbed the back of his neck. He hated not feeling like his usual cocky and invincible self.

“I mean, I’m not against the idea in any way.” He said. Roman smiled, completely understanding his brother. They where both clueless morons when it came to expressing feelings, so over the years they learned how to read each other better so that words weren’t the only way they could communicate.

“In that case, I would try to take it slow, maybe leave a lot of hints so that Logan can figure out that you like him on his own. I mean it’s clear how much that man likes puzzles so I think that might be the best way to go about it.” The red side said. “On the other hand, you could be direct about it. Logan, as smart as he is, doesn’t easily understand feelings. If you wanted to, you could try to do a bit of both.” Roman suggested, wanting to help. Remus had helped him out more times in the past than he could count, (although the prince had helped the duke many times as well) and he wanted to pay back that debt.

Remus considered all of this, trying to think off a plan.

“So I should try to show Logan how I feel about him, but tell him my feelings sooner rather than latter because, as you put it, he can be an idiot when it comes to feelings?” Roman laughed a bit, imagining his friends reaction if he knew that they had said he wasn’t the all knowing being that he thought he was.

“Pretty much, I just think that could work, but of course you don’t have to if you don’t think it will work.”  The duke shook his head.

“No I think that is the best plan. It better than the one I came up with anyways.” Roman raised an eyebrow at that.

“What was your plan?”            The dark side shrugged.

“To throw sharp objects and run out of the room whenever I see him.” Roman looked like he had seen a book that told a story by smell instead of actual words

“I can’t even tell if your being serious or not.” Remus smiles at that.

“Isn’t that the best thing about me”. Roman was about to give a retort when they both heard footsteps running towards Roman’s room. Remus quickly hid under the bed in case the whoever it was didn’t want to have a dark side around. Just as he was hidden form view the princes’s door flew open, the anxious side standing in the doorway.

           “Roman! Have you seen Remus! I lost a bet and now I can’t find him anywhere! Who knows what chaos he could be causing!” The purple side shouted frantically. Well that’s rather rude, Remus thought, I haven’t even caused an ounce of chaos since I’ve been here!  Roman got off the bed and walked over to Virgil, feigning  concern. It wasn’t that he wasn’t worried for the smaller side, its just that he knew for a fact that Remus hadn’t done anything so there was no real reason to be scared.

“Woah Virgil calm down.” Roman said as he put a hand on the hooded sides shoulders, easing the anxiety in Virgil just a little bit. “What kind of bet did you make?” Roman asked, wondering what Remus must have done.

“He said that if I could find him in 15 minutes then he would leave, but I don’t even know how long its been since then and I’ve searched the entire light sides area and I cant find a trace of him!” Virgil said, putting his hands in his hair. He was clearly frustrated that he couldn’t find the other creative side and stop whatever mayhem that he could cause. Remus chuckled in his mind, it was kinda funny that Virgil had search nearly everywhere looking for him when he was barely even hiding.

           Roman grumbled in his head and quickly formed a plan, smiling a bit when he thought of one.

“Um, couldn’t he have just gone back to the dark side and left you searching for no reason? That just seems like something Remus would do is all.” Roman said with a shrug. A look of realization hit Virgil’s face before he face palmed and groaned.

“God dang it he probably did. It seems just up his alley to make me worried and anxious for no reason. He probably can’t even cause a lot of damage if I called for Logan.” Roman laughed a bit, thinking about his brother under the bed being thoroughly offended that someone thought he couldn’t cause trouble for everyone.

“Yah, Logan is pretty good at handling Remus.” Roman said. Virgil nodded.

“Sorry for disturbing you Princy, thanks for the help.” Virgil said before giving the prince a warm smile. Roman was caught off guard and blushed as he laughed a bit awkwardly.

“No problem Virgil! I’m, uh, I’m glad I could help.” Roman said, returning the smile. Virgil waved and walked away, the creative side not seeing his bright red ears.

           As Roman closed the door and faced the bed he saw his brother with a smug grin on his face.

“Soooo~” Remus said in an almost mocking manner. “Virgil’s the one you have crush on. I didn’t take you for the type that likes angsty and emo guys.” Remus smile only grew when his brothers face lit up red.

“Well, um, yes Virgil is who I have a crush on but one annoying word and you’ll wish you had never been born.” Roman said while glaring at his brother. The creative side raised his hands in a form of surrender.

“Fine fine, but its still surprising. Didn’t you used to hate him or something?” Remus said, raising an eyebrow.

           Roman grumbled lightly and crossed his arms.

“I never hated him, I just used to find him annoying since he always shot down my ideas, but now..” Roman wasn’t sure how to finish. His brother raised an eyebrow, clearly wanting some sort of explanation.

“I don’t know, he’s just a lot more open and kinder now. He’s really considerate and overall just a good person.” Roman said.

“Bleh! Your so sappy Ro.” Remus said, pretending to gag.

“Oh don’t you even go there Mr. ‘I think Logan is amazing and the greatest person in the universe’.” Roman said. Remus threw a pillow at him.

“I didn’t say any of that!”

“But you we’re thinking it.” Roman said with a smirk.

“Careful there Roman, you know I’m more creative than you when it comes to teasing, especially with relationships.”Remus said, a sinister smile on his face. “I could easily just make you think about you and Virgil-“ he was quickly interrupted by Roman smacking him in the face with a pillow and smothering the rest of the sentence.

“Nope! One word out of you about Virgil and I will cover your room with so much glitter you will go blind.” Roman threatened.

“Alright alright I won’t say anything just get off me.” Roman gave his brother a glare before he got off him, punching him in the arm one time for good measure. Remus got up and dusted himself for no reason.

“Well, I should probably head back, its lunchtime and there’s some meat that just expired two weeks ago that I’ve been meaning to eat.” The prince gave the duke a disgusted look and shook his head.

“How in the world are you able to eat stuff like that?!” Roman asked, Remus gave a very helpful shrug. Remus walked out the door, his brother behind him.

“Well, see yah brother.” Remus said as he started down the hallway. “Good luck with your BOYFRIEND!” before he disappeared he saw his brother turn bright red and start to scream but he got away before his eardrums busted.

Remus chuckled to himself as he walked down the hallway back to his room. As he opened his door only for something heavy to fall on his head.

“What the fuck!?” The duke lifted the item off his head. A bucket?! He thought to himself. He looked down at at his outfit and saw that it was covered in. Hot. Pink. Glitter. He looked at the rest of his room and saw that it was in the same state. There wasn’t one thing that wasn’t pink at this point.

“Oh that fucking bartered is so dead.”

I’m so sorry this took so long! I have had a lot of testing lately and a big project to deal with. I still have a few test to finish but I’m going to try and get the next chapter out earlier. Thank you for reading this, have a good day humans, bye!

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@lovelivingmydreams

[killherfreakout]

i’ve got the touch placebo

elu au / 5.2k words

“You don’t remember a lot of things.” 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Lucas’ voice cracks slightly when he asks, those oceans looking like high tide. Eliott’s heart drops to his stomach at the question. Does he tell him, or does he keep that kiss locked away as the secret they didn’t know they were keeping?

or: Lucas kissed Eliott after a few too many one night; three times Eliott almost brings it up, and the one time he does.

:readmore:

It all started by accident, really. Eliott falling for Lucas, that is. He’s always had a little crush on his best friend, but one night changed everything. 

It all started when Lucas kissed him. But, you see, that’s the problem - that was months ago. Lucas kissed him, and absolutely nothing was different between them. Eliott doesn’t know if Lucas just regrets it and pretends it didn’t happen, or if he’s waiting for Eliott to bring it up, or worse: he doesn’t remember.

Sure, Lucas may have had a few too many that night, but was it really enough to make him forget? Enough to have absolutely no memory of something that completely turned Eliott’s world upside down?

If a drunken kiss was all it really was, Eliott doesn’t know what to do. But if it was more, he wouldn’t know the first thing either.  

Sometimes Eliott thinks he’s got enough love for the both of them, and perhaps that is enough. Or at least he’s trying to convince himself that it is.

*

Eliott is perched on the edge of Emma’s balcony where he slipped out of the party going on inside, opting for some fresh air and a smoke. The gang and the girls are celebrating the end of terminale and Eliott comes to join the fun even though he has another uni exam before he’s finally free. It’s a warm summer night and a slight breeze offers some relief from the muggy air and crowded apartment. The moon keeps him company until he’s joined by another warm body in search of his.

Lucas nearly trips over the lip of the balcony door and giggles at his own misstep. Eliott tries his best not to laugh, but a small chuckle escapes, earning him a retort from the other boy.

“Hey! Are you laughing at me?” Lucas asks after he tips back the rest of the bottle of vodka he’s holding, his voice higher than normal and cracking towards the end. It’s way too endearing for Eliott that he smiles around the rolled paper between his lips.

He doesn’t respond, and next thing he knows, Lucas lunges forward and snatches the joint right out of his hand in retaliation. Eliott looks at him in disbelief and Lucas has a devilish grin on his face, again way too endearing to be taken seriously. 

Lucas tilts his chin and chest out with pride and brings the joint to his lips. He takes a long hit, breathing in deep and feeling the strength of the weed. He coughs and hands the joint back to its owner as he recovers.

“That is good shit, fuck,” Lucas adds when he regains his breath. “And expensive, I bet.”

Eliott does one of his signature shrugs. “I know a guy” is all he says to that.

Lucas scoffs at his smug reply and comes to join him on the edge of the balcony. He sits on the ledge with his back against the wall and hugs his legs close to his chest. Eliott’s heart skips a beat at how small he looks.

Lucas unwraps his arms and reaches one out to Eliott, a gap between his first and second fingers in a silent plea for the joint again. Eliott obliges and transfers it to him, hands touching for a fleeting moment - the weed is nothing in comparison to the high he gets from moments like this.

There’s a wrinkle in Lucas’ brow when he notices something. The joint in his hand points to Eliott’s, specifically a faint smudge of black on his right hand. 

“Otteli strikes again?” Lucas is amused at himself and Eliott tries not to indulge him. “I’m best friends with a famous urbex artist, I might have to use that as a pick up line someday.”

The words cut deep coming from him. Sometimes Eliott forgets about his enormous crush on his best friend because everything is so easy with them, but other times - like this - it’s hard to forget. Eliott hides behind the smoke, hoping his face doesn’t give him away.

“I‘m not sure how effective that will be, but...” he raises his hands in acquiescence. 

“Of course it will work!” Lucas’ voice is wet and nasaly and still fucking adorable. “I mean, you’re basically the French Banksy.”

“I wish,” Eliott laughs. “They’re rich and not just tagging places with their spirit animal.” He picks at his cuticles and stares at the remnants of spray paint on his skin, suddenly insecure and words sounding more bitter than he planned.

Something changes on Lucas’ face. “Your tag is fucking cool!” His face goes back to before, features softened by the weed and alcohol aglow in the city lights and embers of the joint. 

Eliott’s heart keeps skipping a beat at every compliment, but especially at the adorable declaration of the love of his silly signature raccoon tag.

“And need I remind you that you’re rich? I mean,” Lucas pinches the joint between his thumb and forefinger, raising it to prove his point.

Lucas hops down from the ledge and stumbles a bit; he finds the vodka bottle again and frowns when he realizes he already emptied it. 

“I may need to marry rich, what with the way my bac went, to be honest.” Lucas is walking across the balcony, bringing the heel of one shoe in front of the toes of the other, wobbling with each step.

He looks extremely focused even though his movements are lazy and slow. And suddenly he gasps as a lightbulb goes off in his head, face lighting up -  both Lucas and Eliott’s. “I know! I’ll just marry you if it doesn’t work out. There, problem solved.”

And no amount of warning could prepare Eliott for a sentence like that coming out of Lucas’ mouth. This time his heart drops straight down to the street two stories below.

Lucas nearly faceplants when he steps on his own shoelace, but Eliott slides off the ledge in time to catch him before he falls. They lock eyes for what feels like the first and only time ever; Lucas’ intense, big, blue doe eyes meeting his and quite literally steal his breath away.

Lucas retreats from their embrace for another hit, the joint burning shorter and shorter.

Eliott sputters, trying to think of a way to change the subject before he melts into a puddle. “We won’t be getting married if you keep smoking all of my weed,” he tries as a comeback. 

Lucas looks up at him like a deer in headlights or a kid caught with a hand in the cookie jar. He looks down at the joint that has about one hit left in it, then that devilish look grows on his face once again.

Eliott swears that time stops just for them as he watches every move Lucas makes like it’s at half speed. The joint is closed between Lucas’ bitten lips, and suddenly Eliott feels the smoke in his lungs when the other boy leans forward and presses their lips together.

It’s so sudden and unexpected that it makes Eliott’s mouth open wider in a gasp, and Lucas takes it as an invitation to test the waters. He slips a tongue into Eliott’s open mouth, and Eliott thinks he is in both heaven and hell. 

Eliott instinctively reciprocates the kiss until he gets a grip and tastes the alcohol on Lucas’ tongue, reminding him of the fact that Lucas is not sober enough to warrant this. He pulls back, cheeks flushed, but Lucas looks unaffected - like nothing earth-shattering just happened.

Eliott’s phone rings in his pocket; turns out Idriss left his keys at the apartment and needs Eliott to let him in.

Lucas notices the interruption and, with a gravelly voice, says, “Sorry about the weed,” before stepping inside, tripping on the threshold again.

Eliott stares at the moon high in the sky who was witness to his entire world being flipped upside down. He takes a deep breath and walks down the stairs to retrieve his heart from the ground. 

1. 

Eliott is sitting on the dock of the lake with his feet dipping into the crystal blue water below, weight held up by his arms outstretched behind him. The remaining droplets on his tanning skin quickly evaporate into the warm summer air, leaving a cool sensation in their wake. 

There’s some shouting and splashing from the far side of the lake where Basile, Arthur, and Yann are jumping off the neighbor’s dock and trampoline. Eliott had his fun with them earlier and went for a cooldown on his own while he watched the guys perform backflip after backflip.

The usual suspects have all traveled to Arthur’s beach house to kick off the gang’s last summer before they go separate ways for university. The girls are here too; they went inside to fix dinner for everyone while the boys spent the sun’s dying hours out on the water.

Lucas is swimming his way back over to Arthur’s dock and Eliott sits up in anticipation of his return. 

It’s been a total of 72 hours since the night of the party. The night that the love of Eliott’s life and best friend of over 10 years had kissed him. Not so accidentally, but also not quite on purpose.

He hadn’t even had a full conversation with Lucas since that night - the day after the other boy had the world’s worst hangover, the next Eliott was taking his last final exam of the semester, and then they were at the lake. Lucas had fallen asleep against the window for most of the car ride and every other waking moment was full of Basile’s ill-timed jokes and Emma’s ramblings over her recent Tinder dates. 

In other words, there was no appropriate time or place to bring up the situation. No opportunity to ask, hey, remember when you kissed me haha? And Eliott didn’t want to say it like that, so nonchalant and in sing-song with a poke to the ribs. Because it meant something to him, more than he ever thought a drunken kiss could, and because it would kill him to make Lucas think that it meant anything less. 

It’s like that night Lucas gave him this enormous heavy feeling but in a physical form - held it in his hands and said here, hold this and left, but not without Eliott’s heart. And Eliott was left holding on to it, this thing he couldn’t quite find the word or feeling for, and a hole where his heart should be. And it’s softened now, melted, turned to liquid and still losing shape. And with every glance and hidden smile more and more slips from his hands. 

Eliott is violently brought back to his senses when everything in his vision is darkened by the shadow of Lucas climbing up the ladder of the dock and blocking the setting sun. Eliott’s eyes involuntarily rake down the boy before him, all sun-soaked skin and water dripping from every pore. He catches himself after a second too long, obvious even under the sunglasses he has on. He tilts his head back up to Lucas standing at the edge of the dock - taller than him for once - and the sight makes Eliott’s insides shift. 

Eliott’s eyes adjust to the lack of direct sunlight, squinting up at him. He watches as Lucas brings both of his hands through his wet locks, putting his skin on display as the water that Eliott swam in returns to the air, reflecting what’s left of the day’s rays as they go. Eliott feels a shiver run down his spine - be it at the sight in front of him or the now dry surface of his own skin.

“You coming?”

Before he realizes, there’s a hand being offered to him. Eliott’s brain is a few steps behind and he takes the hand when it catches up. Lucas pulls him up and he’s back to being the taller one, although he still feels at Lucas’ mercy. 

Lucas leads the way back to the house, leaving wet footprints on the dock and concrete of the patio. Eliott follows and uses the prints as relief from the scorching surface. Lucas grabs the towel hanging on the patio chair, rubs it into his wet hair, then lets the damp material hang around his neck. 

And there it is, finally: a moment where he could bring it up. A chance to give back the heavy, shifting feeling he’s been holding since. Ask him if he remembers, if he meant it, if he regrets it. The shapeless thing he carries starts to move again, starts to form into something akin to the shape he was given. He can give it back. 

Eliott stands there looking at Lucas, eyes flicking down to the lips he can’t stop thinking about on his own. They’re red and chapped now, a product of sun and salt. He holds in a breath and forces his eyes up to Lucas’, which are darting around the patio looking for something. 

The moment is there and then it’s gone - and the thing starts to slip yet again, just as the water had off of Lucas’ back. 

“Hey, did you bring any chapstick, by chance?” Lucas asks when he can’t find what he’s looking for.

That’s another thing that happens sometimes: Eliott thinks about something and the next minute Lucas brings it up, or vise versa. Like noticing his chapped lips conjured Lucas to search for relief. 

“Uh, yeah.” Eliott walks over to the bedroom he and Lucas and Arthur share through the back door and returns with it. 

He hands it over to Lucas; the gesture feels strangely intimate given the context of Eliott’s feelings toward him, the context that their lips have touched now. It feels coded with something more than a favor for a friend, and hurts more than it should. 

“Thanks,” Lucas says before removing the cap and pushing the balm onto the split skin. 

Eliott can imagine the minty balm stinging the cracks in the other boy’s lips and swears he can feel the same tingly sensation on his own, even without having used it all day. 

It’s entirely innocent, but it gets Eliott’s heartbeat to quicken at the thought of using the chapstick after him. It doesn’t have to mean anything - Lucas borrowing his chapstick - but it does. It’s as if the tube of balm is a placebo for the real thing - having his lips pressed to Lucas’ again - but still just as effective. 

And technically another moment presents itself: the topic of lips, specifically both of theirs, sharing something like the lip balm. 

Think, Eliott, think. He could casually comment on the party, ask how bad the hangover was, anything to get the ball rolling. But the second Lucas returns his gaze and places the tube in his hands again, all rational thought leaves his mind at once. 

The silence is starting to grow uncomfortable until Lucas breaks it.

“How was your exam, by the way?” He shoves some hair behind his ear and rubs his lips together to spread the product.

“Uh, it was fine,” Eliott answers, watching the movement. Something blooms in his chest at Lucas asking about it, the genuine curiosity present on his golden face.

Say something, anything about the party. 

He gets an idea. 

“You know—” He stops when Lucas puts the towel back on the chair to dry. The remaining sunlight hits just right, the balm on his lips shiny and intoxicating. Eliott swallows and starts again. “You know, if college doesn’t work out I could always marr—” 

“Lucas, there you are!” Arthur shouts as the trio come walking through the patio to get inside.

The look on the younger boy’s face turns bright at the sight of his friends, high points of his cheeks dusted pink with sun and stars sprinkled on his nose in the form of freckles. Yann shoves his shoulder and the skin turns white before returning to the pinkish tan. The skin is soon covered in cotton when Lucas shrugs his shirt on. 

Lucas bites the corner of his bottom lip and gives Eliott a glance over his shoulder when he follows the guys inside - a glance that could be saying something, but Eliott’s not sure what.

Eliott makes his way to the kitchen and pours some drinks and thanks the girls for preparing the meal. Everyone sits around the counter and some at the table nearby; Lucas takes the seat across from him. 

There’s chatter between the girls and the gang that Eliott feels slightly disconnected from, but he focuses on filling his empty stomach with food. 

“Eli, what were you going to say, outside?” Lucas inquires, not in a whisper but not loud enough to draw attention towards them.

And there’s another moment, right there for the taking. Lucas literally asks about it - possibly without even intending to. 

Lucas looks at him while taking another bite then puts his fork down to take his napkin and wipe the pasta sauce - and chapstick - off his mouth. 

Eliott’s chest feels tight again, the heavy feeling still there but no longer physically. No way he can hold it and give it back now. The moment is gone like the sun for the day, only leaving what it has touched behind.

The placebo burns a hole in the pocket of his boardshorts. “It was nothing.”

2.

Eliott hates drinking. He’s not a fan of the taste of beer, wine is okay only if it’s expensive, and liquor is gross unless mixed with so much sugar that makes the hangover even worse than straight alcohol.

He finds himself in a gay bar with Lucas celebrating Mika’s half-birthday because Mika decided that ‘6 months is too long’ to celebrate.

It has now been two months since the kiss and neither of them have said a word about it. The unnamed thing Lucas dropped into his hands has vanished, no way of returning it to its owner. Every day is harder to pretend and even harder to speak up. 

The birthday boy is already on his way to being wasted living it up on the dance floor and Eliott sits next to Lucas at the bar. Lucas is on his second beer and Eliott has a melting vodka tonic in front of him. The DJ takes a short break and the music changes to quieter radio jams through the house speakers instead of the mixing table.

“So?” Lucas asks behind his beer bottle, tilting his chin in the direction of a handsome guy across the bar. “Aren’t you gonna go over there and talk to him?”

Eliott looks at the sweaty glass on the countertop and quickly glances over to the him Lucas refers. He picks up the glass and raises it in the guy’s direction as a thank you and sips the thin black straw. It’s strong but watery and makes his lips pucker.

“Isn’t he the one who’s supposed to make the move?” Eliott answers Lucas’ question with one of his own and flags the bartender for water instead.

Lucas points to the drink. “Well, technically, he already did.” Eliott huffs. 

The music picks up again as the DJ puts on another mix, volume even louder than before, or perhaps it’s just loud in comparison to the radio.

Eliott raises his voice and leans into Lucas’ ear. “What if I’m not interested?”

When he pulls back, they share a look similar to the one at Arthur’s lakehouse with the same indescribable meaning. There’s also something different this time in the way Lucas intentionally keeps his gaze. 

It’s dark on this side of the club but when the flashing lights hit the side of Lucas’ face he notices the contrast of his crystal eyes and his blown pupils. Eliott thinks if he stares any longer he’ll drown in their oceans.

To stay afloat, Eliott turns back toward the mirrored wall behind the bar and grabs his water to sip. The second the liquid touches his tongue he realizes it’s not the water he reached for, but the vodka soda. He winces in reaction and shoves the glass toward the lip of the counter out of his reach.

He can feel Lucas’ eyes on him and then in the direction of the sender of the drink. Eliott gathers the courage to look again, but he shouldn’t have - the determined scowl of his brow hurts more than the back of his throat when he puts together what Lucas plans to do.

Lucas reaches for the drink at the edge of the bar and brings it to his lips, tongue darting out to catch the thin black straw he closes his lips around, downing as much of the concoction as he can stomach. 

Still looking at the guy across the bar, Lucas says, “Then I’ll tell him you say thanks for the drink.” 

Eliott’s soul is soaked when he sees the blue of Lucas' glance as he makes his way over to the other end of the bar.

Over the next two hours Eliott nurses his glass of water from his seat and tortures himself by watching Lucas dance dangerously close to the stranger that hit on him with a new drink in hand.

Eliott directs his attention to the glass Lucas emptied when it gets too much to bear. The black straw sits in the glass of ice staring him down and he gets a new urge to drink the remnants of alcohol from it. Perhaps it’s a new prescription of placebo that would work better than the drink itself.

Eliott steps out for a cigarette later, in need of the fresh air more than the smoke in his lungs, but it gives him something to do instead of sulking in a room of dancing strangers. 

Lucas comes to find him minutes after, no handsome stranger on his arm. 

“Okay. My head hurts so bad I can’t stay a second longer,” he says instead of a greeting, words slurred and movements wobbly. 

“Where’s Mika?” Eliott asks, helping him stand up straighter.

Lucas giggles. “He went home with a guy like two hours ago.”

“Oh,” he hadn’t even noticed. “What about the guy and the drink?” Eliott clenches his jaw and looks around expecting him to show up.

Lucas giggles again, and the sound makes Eliott’s heart flutter - it flutters then stops at what he says next.

“Don’t worry, Demaury, no one is coming between our eventual marriage.”

Eliott trips on a bump in the sidewalk and Lucas falls into his side. 

And just like that, he’s back at the lake again – the sting of a moment there and gone – and he’s sinking deeper and deeper.

3.

Everything seems to happen by accident ever since the night on the balcony. 

Eliott hadn’t even planned on going back to Lucas’ flat, but after the party was shut down prematurely, Lucas asked if he wanted to come inside for another beer. And it’s not like Eliott had the heart to say no. He definitely didn’t plan to stay this late, but he also doesn’t want to leave.

“I thought you said you were going to lay off the weed now that you’re ‘taking your studies seriously.’” Eliott grins as he watches Lucas light the joint hanging from his lips. 

“I don’t remember saying that,” says Lucas, leaning his head back on the couch and releasing smoke from his lips. 

His pursed lips carve out the hollows of his cheekbones and plants a rather dirty image in Eliott’s mind. The movement also makes his hair bounce a little; it’s messy and fluffy from when he shrugged his hoodie off when they came inside. Eliott has to busy his hands with the frayed edge of his jeans so as to not reach out and touch.

Eliott pivots from his stare and instead laughs at Lucas’ nonchalance and the irony that he said that while high.

Lucas’ eyes stay closed for a moment before slowly blinking them back open. His long lashes fan over his cheeks like that of a renaissance painting as he’s bathed in a muted golden light from the kitchen. The eyes underneath them look tired, probably due to the lack of sleep that comes with the first year of university Eliott knows too well. The oceans of blue aren’t any less breathtaking, though; Eliott has to look away before he drowns in them once again.

Eliott takes a sip from the plastic cup he filled with water once it was empty of beer. He feels his heart shift and twists in his chest like it does when he looks at Lucas too long, performing a somersault when he feels the ghost of those lips on his. 

Eliott’s words just slip out, his mumbling echoes in the plastic pressed to his lips. “Yeah, you don’t remember a lot of things.” 

It’s almost quiet enough that he could have gotten away with it, but not quite. He can tell he’s been caught by the furrow of Lucas’ brow and the confused tilt of his head - which is way more endearing than it should be.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Lucas’ voice cracks slightly when he asks, those oceans looking like high tide. Eliott’s heart drops to his stomach at the question. Does he tell him, or does he keep that kiss locked away as the secret they didn’t know they were keeping?

Lucas slowly wets his lips and worries one between his teeth in anticipation. It’s like a knife to Eliott’s gut, piercing through his heart where it rests there. 

Eliott scrambles for an answer, panicking and lacking the courage to tell the truth. “I mean maybe this is all going to your head.” He makes a vague gesture to the smoke wafting the air between them. Not like he meant anything else.

Lucas takes a page out of his book and gives him a one-shouldered shrug before sitting up and putting out the joint in the ashtray on the coffee table. He takes a moment like he’s trying to decide his next move, then gets up and runs a hand through his hair. God, that hair.

He goes to the kitchen and cleans up, leaving Eliott to sit in the awkward space he left. Eliott takes his phone out of his pocket and checks his notifications, noticing it’s already almost 4am. As in, no buses back to his place at this hour.

“Maybe you’re right. I’m super tired so,” Lucas turns his body in the direction of his bedroom indicating he’s going to turn in.

“Yeah, um,” is all Eliott can find in response, shifting on the couch to settle into a position for sleep.

“Come on, Eliott, I’m not letting you sleep on the couch.”

“No, it’s fine—”

“You’re literally too tall and don’t even fit on that couch. Come on,” Lucas insists, cracking a smile.

And what is he supposed to do, deny him? 

So they fall asleep in Lucas’ bed — without bringing up the kiss. Eliott doesn’t know how much longer he can breathe under the pressure. 

+1

Eliott startles awake with Lucas too close for comfort; they’re facing each other in the middle of the bed even though there’s plenty of room on either side.

Lucas is wearing an expression he’s never seen before, although he never seems to be able to read him these days. Eliott wants to ask about it, but gets lost in those eyes again, looking tired but somehow refreshed like he’s been awake for a while.

And Lucas does that thing again, bringing up what he’s thinking without fail.

“We’re okay, right?” Lucas asks softly, like the words burn on his tongue as he says them.

Eliott studies his face again, an openness to it that wasn’t there before – like he wants to talk about it seriously this time, no more dancing around.

“Yeah, of course,” he takes a breath and lowers his tone, matching the sincerity of Lucas’, “Why wouldn’t we be?”

 Lucas twists his mouth and answers, “I just, I feel like things have been weird between us since Mika’s half-birthday. Is there— did I do something?”

And do something he did - he brought up their wedding talk on the way home and basically confirmed he remembers that night at Emma’s, and maybe the kiss. But Eliott can’t find it in him to ask, but can’t stand not asking any longer.

Lucas looks expectant now, an adorable wrinkle forms on his forehead and those eyes are crystal clear. If it’s his eyes that pull him in, it’s his lips that pull him under.

Eliott removes his hand from under his pillow and slowly raises it near Lucas’ face resting in front of him. Eliott’s gaze is drawn to those lips again, the ones he can’t ever seem to stop thinking about in the phantom touch from months ago. Lucas’ tongue peeks out to wet them followed by teeth trapping one, which makes Eliott sink further. 

His hand tenderly brushes Lucas’ rosy cheek and thumb rests near the corner of his mouth, the touch causing Lucas’ breath to hitch and release the pillowy flesh from his teeth.

Eliott quickly looks up at Lucas again, only to find the other boy’s eyes trained on Eliott’s lips now. It’s enough confirmation Eliott needs to do what he’s been wanting to since the day at the lake. And he doesn’t want to swim around it anymore, it’s finally time to reveal the truth.

He delicately strokes his thumb over Lucas’ red bitten bottom lip. “You really don’t remember?” 

He doesn’t think he’s ever seen Lucas speechless before, at least not like this. Perhaps absentmindedly Eliott strokes his lips again, and it’s the closest thing to a kiss he’s had since the one on the balcony. It’s too much and not enough, and also the closest placebo to the real thing.

Eliott suddenly gets nervous that Lucas has no idea what he’s talking about, and that the breath caught in the other boy’s throat is not a sign of remembrance but of surprise to the incredibly intimate touch without the context of that night.

He hopes he hasn’t misread Lucas’ mind, for that would be the first time they’ve been on different wavelengths in years. Sure this whole fiasco was push and pull of avoiding the truth, but there was always some unspoken understanding present even so. Eliott feels he’s in too deep and Lucas is just floating, too much darkness and pressure between them. 

Eliott retracts his hand like he’s caught flame, silently begging for forgiveness as he meets Lucas’ eyes again. 

And this time it’s Eliott who can’t breathe. Lucas inches even closer, eyes flicking back down to Eliott’s lips once more. He whispers hotly in the limited space between their lips. “Make me remember.”

After days and weeks and months of waiting, dying, drowning, Eliott gets his fix as Lucas presses his sinful lips in a kiss – a completely and intentionally purposeful kiss. A kiss that pulls Eliott up so quickly he gets the bends, muscles and bones aching from the speed of his ascent, head and heart feeling lighter than ever.

“Lucas—” Eliott sighs, everything this means dawning on him.

“I know. Me too,” Lucas interrupts before locking Eliott’s lips again.

They indulge in the taste of each other with nothing to hold them down, eager and wanting like all kisses should be. He’ll never have to refill the script for placebo ever again, too busy getting high on the real thing.

[lordofthenerds97]

You’ve Got To Be Kidding

Masterlist Warnings: Mild cursing, obviously cliche tropes because look who’s writing it, love triangles galore, all of it  Chapter 2

“Who’s Y/N?”

Jim scrubbed a hand down his face as he looked at the girl in front of him. “She’s my niece. She’s like you, El.”

The girl frowned. “Like me? What do you mean?”

He paused for a moment, not quite sure how to answer the question. “She knows the Upside Down. And she has a number too.”

Her eyebrows furrowed and her dark curly hair fell in her face. “Really?” That surprised her. She’d had brief flashes of memories, seeing one or two others in a room with her. But she hadn’t ever thought much about it.

Jim nodded. “She’ll be here in a few days. And she’s gonna have someone else with her that can help us.”

El nodded, chewing on her bottom lip. She might be young, but she knew trouble when she saw it. She’d been through her fair share. And this situation smelled exactly like trouble. She wondered how Y/N would react to being back in Hawkins, especially if she came from the lab. El was still having her own difficulties in processing things. She wondered what type of power Y/N had, if she even had a power at all. But from the way Hop was talking, there was something special about the other girl. Something that El didn’t know if she wanted to trifle with.

~*~*~*~*~

You scowled at the car in front of you, crossing your arms and not looking at the man beside you. He snorted at your displeasure, more amused than anything.

“Just get in the car, Y/N.” he said.

“Just get in the car, Y/N,” you mocked, turning your sharp glare on Bucky. He just raised an eyebrow as you continued your rant. “I have absolutely no intention of getting in that deathtrap with you.”

Bucky let out an exasperated sigh, a few strands of his hair falling into his face. He was getting tired of your attitude. In reality, it was anything but a deathtrap. It was one of Tony’s nicer SUVs, one that had plenty of room for the both of you plus the few bags you were bringing.

You’d always had a weird thing about riding in cars. Well, anything that ran on a motor, really. You’d gotten so accustomed to simply blinking to where you wanted to be that being in a vehicle actually scared you. And being scared wasn’t something you liked to experience.

“Look, if it’ll make you feel better, I won’t go very fast.” He knew what you were trying to do; trying to delay this little excursion for as long as humanly possible. He didn’t really blame you. He wasn’t exactly looking forward to it either. But you didn’t see him procrastinating.

You narrowed your eyes and gave him a scrutinizing gaze. You knew that was a lie, but you appreciated the effort he was trying to put into this. The effort he was putting into trying to be civil. The response you gave came out as more of a mumble than anything else, but he took it as confirmation. He grabbed the duffel from your hands and threw it in the back with his before putting his backpack on the floorboard behind the driver’s seat and climbing into the Ford. “Coming?”

You huffed in response but followed his example. The messenger bag you carried with you held your laptop and a few hard copy files that you planned on studying during the trip to Hawkins. You were obviously uncomfortable with the situation, and Bucky could see that. But his attitude wasn’t really helping things either.  

“Look, I’m not any more excited about this trip than you are, Y/L/N, but let’s try to get through this without ripping each other’s head off, alright?”

“Fine. Whatever.” you snapped.

Bucky growled at your attitude. “And that’s not helping.”

You just glared, not bothering to answer him. It wasn’t worth the fight it would bring.

“Goody for me,” he grumbled under his breath, gripping the wheel with his left hand and shifting it into gear with his right. You glanced at him as you settled yourself into the seat and got comfortable. His jaw was clenched, making the muscle pop slightly, and his eyes were focused in front of him.

Catching yourself looking at him for longer than you thought appropriate, you quickly averted your eyes to the floorboard. As he began to drive, you felt your heart began to race. Your breathing became a bit shallower and your grip on the door became tight knuckled.

“It’s okay, Y/N.” he said quietly. “Just breathe.”

You looked at him, wondering if you’d heard him correctly. Did he just try to provide you with a small bit of comfort?

He didn’t take his eyes off the road, though he could see you out of his peripheral vision. He didn’t need you having a panic attack before even getting off the compound property. “Deep breath in. Let it out slowly.”

Shaking the thought off, you followed his advice and felt yourself gradually relax into the rhythm of the car’s movements. It took a solid twenty minutes of tense silence and a few brief moments of terror. But needless to say, you were calmer now than you were when you first got into the vehicle.

Realizing that you spent that much time in an awkward silence, you reached for the radio. When you popped the button to turn it on, you and Bucky both jumped at the death metal that came blaring through the speakers. Your already sensitive ears rang with the sound of the loud guitar and Bucky visibly winced.

“Sorry,” you muttered, quickly turning it down and changing the channel.

He didn’t say anything, just clenched his jaw more. The thought struck you that if he kept doing that his face would stick in that position. The thought made you crack a smile that you had to hide behind your hand and a laugh that you had to cover with a cough. You knew this was going to be one of the longest trips you’d ever taken, but maybe you would be willing to shoot at being civil with the super soldier for once.

“Something funny?” Bucky asked, glancing sideways at you.

“Keep scowling like that and your face’ll stick.” you said with half a smile. You made sure to put a light edge to your tone so that he would know you were only joking. It seemed to work, as all he did in response was roll his eyes.

Having the radio turned to a rock station and the volume down low seemed to help ease a bit of the tension that still hung in the air. You were still on edge and you figured Bucky was as well. He didn’t say anything, but you could tell from his movements and his posture that he wasn’t relaxed. Sighing quietly to yourself, you closed your eyes and leaned your head back against the headrest.

There was a lot of work you had to do before you got to Hawkins. Hop had sent you as much as he could without getting on the government’s radar, not that it really mattered. He still wasn’t hip on the idea of sharing that much sensitive information over the internet despite how many times you reassured him that it wasn’t traceable or hackable.

Feeling the heavy weight of the necklace on your sternum, you glanced down. The onyx colored gem was glowing slightly, the weight of it warming your skin. And that was yet another issue that you had to work out. Whatever was interfering with your connection to the Dimension was getting worse. And it was having a physical effect on you.

You were normally stubborn and feisty to begin with, but your attitude over the last few weeks had worsened. You snapped easily at everyone and your moods were constantly shifting. You’d even thrown Sam across the compound for making an ill timed joke.

Everyone tried to be understanding of what was happening, but you knew it was wearing on them. And you weren’t sure how much longer they were going to put up with you. Tony seemed to be the most resilient, as he had known you the longest. But even so, his patience was being tested.

“Can I ask you something?” you said, turning your attention to the super soldier on your left.

Bucky raised an eyebrow as he glanced at you. “You just did.” You rolled your eyes and bit back a snarky response. Seeing the effort you put into not being sarcastic, he nodded. “Shoot.”

“Do you ever feel…alone? Like you don’t belong with everyone?”

Bucky was taken aback by the question, looking away from the road to examine your expression. Judging that you had no apparent ulterior motive, he answered carefully. “Sometimes,” he said. “I know I’ve done a lot of really bad things in the past. I don’t think Tony has forgiven me for what happened…and I don’t blame him. I think that puts a damper on my presence.”

You pursed your lips, nodding slowly. Tony was always like a big brother to you. You knew him inside and out. And you knew he still held some resentment for the super soldier beside you. But you also knew that he wouldn’t let those feelings get in the way of cooperating to save the world.

Deciding to approach the topic cautiously, Bucky phrased his next question carefully. “What about you?”

You nodded. “Yeah. My powers aren’t exactly user friendly. And it makes me volatile and dangerous.”

Bucky glanced at you briefly. Your knees were pulled up to your chest and you rested your chin on them. Emotion rolled off you in waves, but there were so many that he couldn’t make heads or tails of what you were feeling. But tears welled in your eyes as you continued staring out the windshield.

“I don’t like it…” you said after a moment of silence. “I don’t like what these powers to do me…what they make me do to everyone else. I’m not even me when I use them. I don’t even know who I am anymore…”

He let out a sigh and gripped the steering wheel. He may not know exactly what you were feeling or what you were going through, but he had some semblance of an idea. “Look…putting yourself back together after having your identity stripped away isn’t easy.”

You snorted. “Yeah. Like you would know.”

Bucky held back a growl. He was trying to reach you, not push you away. “Actually, I do.” he said.

That gave you pause. You knew a little bit about Bucky’s past, but no one, including him, had been eager to talk about it. So you learned what you could from the museums. Half of which you knew to be nothing more than made up stories to get better press. You knew there was something deeper, some sort of dark secret that no one wanted to tell you. But before you could say anything, he continued talking.

“I was an assassin for an organization called Hydra. You know enough about them and have taken down enough of their bases to know what kind of terrorists they are. I wasn’t the only human experiment they had, but I was the most effective. I was sent to kill Steve.”

Your eyes widened. You didn’t know that.

“To make an extremely long story short, he managed to break me out of the trance Hydra had me in. They would periodically wipe my mind of all memories except core instincts. I was the perfect fighting machine. I don’t know how he did it, but he pulled me out of it. He unlocked some sort buried memory.”

He paused to take a breath and you waited patiently for him to continue. You could tell how difficult it was for him to open up about it. And you doubted he talked about it with many people. Hell, Tony probably didn’t even know the whole story. But the fact he was opening up to you of all people spoke wonders.

“Since then it’s been nothing but a mess of me trying to put my memories back together to find out who I am. I’ve had to remake myself. And that wasn’t easy.” He glanced over at you at the tail end of his sentence, trying to gauge how much of what he was saying was actually reaching you.

You were about to say something when you happened to glance up. “Bucky!” you screamed, grabbing his flesh arm with a bone snapping force and throwing yourself back into the seat.

Surprised by the sudden outburst and with his reflexes taking over, Bucky immediately slammed on the brakes, making you scream once again as you were thrown forwards, the seatbelt the only thing keeping you from flying towards the windshield.

Your breath came in ragged gasps as the vehicle went skidding across the road, Bucky barely able to control it. Your grip on his arm increased and you thought he hissed in pain as the SUV came to a sudden and rapid halt.

Bucky glanced over at you before staring straight ahead, noticing for the first time the large black hole in front of them.

He made sure that you were still breathing before he unbuckled his seatbelt and got out of the car. “What the hell?” he muttered to himself.

“Bucky, Bucky no!” you exclaimed, trying to free yourself of the constricting seatbelt that had you strapped in place. It wouldn’t come undone, even with you yanking on it.

Bucky on the other hand was standing beside the front of the car, looking at the portal with interest. That’s what it was. A portal to the Dimension. But he didn’t realize that. And if you didn’t pull him away from it in time, it would swallow him.

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[phantomphangphucker]

Ectober Week Day 4: Artifact - Realities Little Joke For Infinity

A semi-vanquished ally is here for the end game, but way more confusing and completely unable to be taken seriously.

Strange looks to Wong, “is that everyone?”. Who squints back at him, sounding a bit incredulous, “what, you wanted more?”.

AntMan punches down a ship, the small slowly forming portal behind everyone going largely unnoticed. Before massive missiles start slamming into the ground and a little ugly brown van blows up.  

Captain Marvel faces Thanos with a harsh desperate glare. Grabbing his hand and struggling to hold it, to stop him from snapping his fingers. Hearing Strange gasp, slightly started, and both her and Tony turn their heads slightly to look. Blinking, firmly confused, they didn’t have anyone who made green portals did they? As a kid? Teen? Just hops through, smirking slightly and sitting down on the rim of the portal. Followed by a blast knocking Thanos back and one of the stones flying away. The kid swings his legs, carefree, “yes he wanted more”. Then the kids blue-eyes look around at everyone, before he hops to the ground and starts walking forwards, swinging his legs wide and silly as he waves slightly, “what’s up? Was told some crazy shit was going down and, this is a quote by the way, ‘lose the stars to gain the stars. In a clashing of gold fists against one who consumes life’. So, uh, care to explain?”.

Captain Marvel gestures with her hands at the fighting going on. Thanos punching Thor as they clamour over the drooped stone, makes for pretty good added emphasis. The black haired kid tilts his head slightly, hums, and nods, “okay yeah, giant fight and giant purple asshole seems rather self explanatory”.

Hawkeye shots arrows at one of Thanos’s goons as it charges at the damn kid, what the Hell is he even doing here? Blinking a bit in disbelief as the kid just sidesteps a goon and then kicks it in the head, sending it flying. Hearing the kid snicker, “well that was easy”, before siding over to Tony.

Tony glances between the fight and the kid repeatedly, blasting at a goon while trying to figure out what’s going on. He’s all for more help, pretty actively desperate for it actually, but how old is this kid? He doesn’t even look all that bothered by what’s going on. Screwing up his face as the kid just hops around a little, “battle suit, nice. Looks for all the after-world better than Skulker’s. I’m Phantom by the way, from the future. Here to fix your shit, cause apparently you need it”.

Tony squints at him as he blasts away another goon, “how old are you? Better yet, who the Hell sends a random unarmed kid to a battlefield?”. At least Peter had his damn suit. This ‘Phantom’ looks like he just got out of school. But hey, the name implies he’s probably a hero of some kind.

Phantom smiles toothily, “oh that’s easy. Sixteen and some sixty billion year old dead guy did. So what’s going on here? Obviously these army beasts are problem pests, like skeletons, and purple nasty is, well, nasty”.

“Kid, this is the middle of battle. Not really the time for chit-chat and debriefing”, while sending Strange a ‘what the Hell look, will this work out?’.

Phantom laughs and uppercuts a spaceship with a massive mouth, it exploding apart, “naw! Fighting's the best time to open your yap. I mean Zone, talking while getting or giving an ass kicking is basically my shtick!”. Danny kicks another goon, “back in blacks get ready for a heart attack because my dead-ass is here”.

Making Tony shake his head, obviously this kid was extremely strong, “Christ kid. Purple guy’s Thanos. Removed half the life in the universe, trying to stop that. Used the thing on his arm to do it. Infinity Gauntlet, super powerful but needs some stones, just snapped his fingers and we all lost someone we goddamn loved. Now he just wants to destroy everyone, so don’t goddamn waste my time kid. If you’re gonna help then help”.

Phantom chuckles, “tsk tsk tsk, touchy are we?”, tapping his chin dramatically, “though yeah, that’s pretty fucking bad.  Gonna take a gander and say this shit can be undone and stopped?”.

Tony groans calling Strange over and pointing at the kid, “is he useful?”. While a few other magicians take over dealing with the massive waterfall.

Phantom just tilts his head as Strange looks him over, before Strange furrows his brows, “I can’t see him in any timeline”.

Tony blinks, “what?”, being distracted enough to get slammed in the side by a rock.

While Phantom waves Strange off, “expected, cape boy”, lifting up the gear shaped necklace he’s wearing, “‘tis a Time Medallion. Basically excludes me from time. Technically this past isn’t my timelines past, so if I take this off I’ll be transported back to my own timeline. But I’m here to make this past my timelines past! So hooray! Complicated time shit to stop the world from ending”, back handing another goon and putting that hand on his hip, “so how’s we gonna stop this crap?”.  

Strange sighs, ‘complicated time shit’ was one of the banes of his life. “That makes you an unknown to me but fine. Wearing the gauntlet allows the wearer to have one wish, regardless of what it is, granted. At the expense of losing one of the things they care for most or self-sacrifice. But the person must also be able to bear the power of it, though this power could be shared”.

Tony grunts as he flies by, “which is our plan! Now stop being a distraction!”.

Phantom tilts his head and laughs, “well that explains that! So basically this guy’s a strong SOB and doing some reality bending shit with a hunk of arm metal. But he’s doing it like a dick, probably over some weird philosophy”, Phantom slides to the side, avoiding a goon, “don’t worry your pretty little heads. Imma be an ironic copycat and I always did need to lose the one thing I cared for most”.

“Kid, we need help fighting right now, not for the later hand joining circle! Help stop people from dying and let the grown ups handle Thanos!”.

Phantom swings off his back pack and shoves his hand in it, “oh you misunderstand”. Standing up with a massive shit-eating grin, something looking concerningly similar to the Infinity Gauntlet on his arm.

Strange eyes this kid, obviously that wasn’t actually the same gauntlet, other wise paradoxes. Just so many paradoxes. Not even having to ask as the kid speaks cheerily, “this is the Reality Gauntlet. If you know how to activate all the stones, it grants you control over all of reality. Everything really. No limits. No down falls. Purple grape ‘bout to be my bitch”.

Multiple people around cough or choke. There was something even more dangerous and powerful? And some random kid had it?

Watching as the kid waves erratically, with a goofy smile, at Thanos. Who glares with at first anger then deep confusion. Grumbling out, “though I’m unfamiliar, that is nothing but a cheep imitation. Nothing surpasses my grand design and purpose”.

Phantom snorts and laughs exaggeratedly. Flicking his wrist, which somehow seems to result in a bunch of the goons turning into ducks and piles of worms? Twitching his hand again, the trees and rocks seemingly coming to life and chasing after the ducks.

Everyone stops and stares around for a beat, highly confused. Antman muttering, “well what the fuck”.

Tony blinks at this random kid, “thanks?”.

Thanos glares, punching away Captain America and grabbing the stone off the ground. Before charging at Phantom, not about to be seriously harmed by another small creature he doesn’t even know, who laughs and flips in the air. Most watching as Phantom just starts floating before transforming into a glowing black and white kid. Thanos grumbling, “you are a mortal yet dead. Interesting but no matter. I will crush you all the same”.

Phantom laughs and it echoes. Flicking his wrist again, followed by spaceships turning into hundreds of bouncy balls. Phantom flipping in the air slightly, “halfas the word!”, turning his legs into a freaking tail and simply flying out of the way of the titans punch, blasting a green energy ball out his hand as he goes; stopping Thanos from attempting to snap, “so you’re Thanos. You honestly don’t seem all that good at this. I mean nice army and all. But hey, I guess I’m just used to stronger opponents”. Phantom kicks away a random goon, “but props for all the dramatics!”.

Thanos grumbling, “you are foolish to think you can stand against or face things above me. For nothing exists above me”.

Phantom laughs again, “oh I’m something far above you. For you see, I am Phantom. Future guardian of the land of the dead and Earth. Long after all of these fucks, and you, have perished. Even the king of ghosts has fallen to me. If you really want to speak about the most powerful being in the universe. Well then”, giggling, “it’s a sixteen year-old half dead kid and you’re a just a grape”.

Phantom waves his hand and suddenly Thanos turns into a bunch of grapes and falls onto the ground unceremoniously. Infinity gauntlet clattering down next to it.

Tony blinks, “you...you have got to be kidding me”.

Phantom shrugs and sticks out his tongue at the pile of grapes, picking up the Infinity Gauntlet and putting it on. Looking his arm over with a little smirk, watching the power flow through it with mild amusement, everyone else too stunned to move. Phantom chuckles and holds out his two gauntlet covered arms, “too bad they don’t truly match. But hey, this aesthetic is still fucking sick”.

Tony walks up in front of the kid slightly, “do you even know what you’re doing? How powerful that thing is?”.

Phantom hums and spins in the air, “Of course I don’t. I never know what half the crap I do is. That’s the fun of it”, floating upside down and cross legged, “I realise you all seem to take this hero shtick pretty seriously and with heavy hearts. I may be a battered one whose lost plenty myself, and seen worlds destroy and life fall to perish. But I’ll never be weathered and beaten down. Imma a little shit basically”, looking around, “anyway, any o’ y’all know how to fix all the shit? Or should I just start trying random shit or hitting it. That usually works out for me”.

Strange steps up, “are you intending on using the gauntlet alone?”, sighing, this was suitably strange but if it works then it works, “you simply have to push your will into and snap your fingers”.

Captain America frowns, “are you sure you’re willing to give up something dear to you? This is our fight”.

Phantom smiles and for once it seemed more soft and serious even, “oh of course. I figured out that riddle. See for me to exist I must partly die. Lose half my life and the one thing I held most dear. My desire to become an astronaut and see the stars. Sacrificed in the name of fulfilling the role of a hero in a world were no others exist. Damned to exits forever more and ensure protection of everything and one. Yet unable to ever fulfil my one deepest dream and wish”.

Tony blinks, firmly stunned, that was incredibly depressing. But Phantom seemed to be implying that he had to use the gauntlet himself. And that he knows exactly what he’ll lose, that it’ll half kill him, and the fate it’ll force upon him. That was a lot of sacrifices.

Everyone gets stunned again when Phantom laughs, “it’s a blessed half-life indeed! Gaining the best thing by losing the best thing. What beautiful irony”, sighing happily, “ahhh life just loves playing jokes on me. Nothing like a good joke at my expense”. Watching as the kid simply holds up the glove, waits for a beat and snaps his fingers. The people around gaping over the complete nonchalance and watching the mess clean itself up. The people they care about returning in earnest and others appearing in flashes before going back to where they had been before all this. Orange portals slowly closing in the background.

Tony tears up ever so slightly and hugs Peter, whispering, “kid”. While Peter nods rapidly and squeezes back.

Phantom sighs, “ahhh I can just feel and see myself getting 6 billion electrical volts to my whole being now. Sweet sweet tingly nostalgia”.

Antman squints at him, “you have issues”.

Tony walks up closer with Peter, a smiling Phantom floating to land on the ground; hair swaying around untethered to gravity. Tony clears his throat, “thank you. I mean it”.

While Peter awkwardly waves, “hi, um, I’m Peter”, smiling slightly, “nice to see a teen owning the old folks huh?”.

Phantom gives Peter a silly thumbs up before laughing and waving off Tony, “‘tis what I do tincan. Self sacrifice for the betterment of everyone else, is what I see and know day in and day out”, bowing dramatically, “I’m in the sheets with broken bones, bloodied wounds, and never enough sleep”, standing back up straight, “but you know what you could do for little o’ me? A smoothie. I could really use a smoothie. One of those ones with all the little crushed berries. The good shit. Then I can head back to school”.

Half the people asking, “your in school?”. While Tony nods, he really had just came from school...like this was some sort of everyday thing, “whatever you want kid”.

Phantom waves everyone but Tony off, “course. No one actually knows I do what I do, so I’m treated the same as any other teen. The whole secret identity shtick”, shrugging and speaking thick with humour, “but hey, if the world knew they’d experiment on me so I think I’ll take my parents shooting at me instead. Dissection is honestly not that glamorous. Kind of boring after the third time”.

Tony breathes out, “Christ that’s messed up”.

While Strange disappears and reappears with a smoothie, extra large, and shoves it at Phantom. Feeling both humbled and disturbed. Especially being the most familiar with what exactly would go on in any kind of dissection.

Phantom nabs it looking eager and innocent. Like getting a nice drink was the biggest worry he had. Everyone watches him sip it and smile happily. Sighing with contentment, “ah yeeeeeeessssss that’s nice. Been a few days since I’ve had the time to drink or eat anything”, before looking at the Infinity Gauntlet and it promptly exploding into dust. Smirking, “there, problem solved. TimeDaddy will be tickled green”.

Everyone just gapes as he spins around in a little circle, looking cheery and waving at everyone, “whelp been nice and I’ll be taking the drink with me”.

Tony puts his hand on Phantom‘s arm as he grabs the medallion and starts the motions to remove it, “are you sure there’s nothing more you can use or need? You seem like you need it honestly”.

Phantom shrugs, “naw, I’m good. I’m a plenty suffered thing. Which is good”, smiling bright and wide, “so long as I’m suffering then others suffer less”. And like that the medallion is slipped off and the glowing teen is gone.

Everyone standing around feeling awe, shock, respect, and a sense of grief. Happy to have everyone back properly but unable to get the strange oddly mirth-filled Phantom, one who seems to live an existence that’s basically torture, out of their heads.

End.

[bapyess1r]

Sunny Daze

WARNINGS: excessive drinking and smoking, fluffy Sam

Pairings: Sam x OC

Author’s Note: I have to say I really love this chapter 😩 it shows a softer Sam for a moment 💖 I hope you’re enjoying the story!

Chapter 6

Sunny’s POV

I winced as I propped my leg up on Nathan’s lap for him to clean and tend to the graze on my thigh. Wrapping my wet hair in a towel, I accepted the glass of scotch Sully had poured for me. I smiled at him and he placed a hand on my shoulder. “I dunno how you do it kid…” he said shaking his head in amazement.

“Me either…” I mumbled, lighting a cigarette. “I know I’m gonna hurt like hell tomorrow though so I’ll just get drunk tonight.” I gave a half smile, lifting my glass and chugging a good bit of it.

“I hear that!” He chuckled, sipping his own glass. I looked over at Sam, who couldn’t stop smiling at the crucifix in his hands. I caught myself smirking at his goofy grin as he briefly put it down to roll his sleeves up and loosen a few buttons to get comfortable. He looked nice like that… He reached into the duffle bag, sat near his feet and pulled out a hammer, holding the cross near the end of the table ready to break it. I knitted my brows together as he looked at all of us with an excited look in his eyes. I stopped him before the hammer could come in contact with the wooden cross.

“Woah- so we went through all that trouble for that thing just so you could break it open?” I asked, slightly annoyed. “I may have some questions…” I held out my hand.

Sam sighed impatiently and put the hammer down, giving me the cross. It weighed a lot less than I anticipated. It was definitely hollow so he had the right idea about breaking it open. I turned it over and there were words written in what I could only assume was Latin. “Digna Factis Recipimus…” I mumbled. “What the hell does that mean?” I asked, passing it back to him.

“We receive the just rewards of our deeds.” He answered lazily. I was impressed.

“It says all that?” It was just three words.

“Yup.” He replied, obviously tired of my bullshit already.

“Well look at you…” I smiled, sitting back in my seat as Nathan patted my knee and moved my leg, finishing up nursing my wound.

“You learn a thing or two when you’re raised in a Catholic orphanage.” He shrugged with a smile, seeming to let it get to his head.

“I went to a baptist church. Didn’t learn much but we sang a lot.” I joked and the table laughed. When the laughter died down, Sam began to get ready to break the cross.

“Any more questions before I break this thing open?” He asked us, looking at me more specifically. I flexed my lower lip and shook my head.

“Curiosity satisfied.” I said, scooting up to the table with everyone else.

“Anybody else? Going once… going twice?” He looked between his brother and the old man as they waited with similar anticipation. When no one said anything, he took a deep excited breath. “I hope I don’t go to hell for this…” he joked before he dropped the hammer on the top half of the cross and looked inside with a big grin. Almost as quick as that grin came, it disappeared as he glanced at us all. Something was wrong and I think I knew what. I closed my eyes and clenched a fist.

“Please don’t say it…” I said softly.

“It’s empty…” he said in a disappointing tone. Nathan almost jumped out of his seat and Sully groaned.

“You’ve gotta be kidding me.” Nathan said, the excitement in his eyes died quickly. I watched Sam’s face as an amused grin played on his lips. He turned the cross upside down and out came a bit of sand and a rolled up piece of parchment sealed with a bit of red wax, Henry Avery’s sigil pressed into it. He laughed and I could feel the wave of relief wash over the table. I rolled my eyes and smirked.

“You just think you’re so funny.” I said, sipping my drink. He nodded.

“Why yes. Yes I do.” He smiled, carefully undoing the wax seal on the parchment. I sat and listened to them decipher what looked like some kind of flyer to Avery’s grave. When I hear Nathan groan.

“It’s Saint Dismas’ cathedral…” he said.

“Wait a minute. Didn’t you say Rafe bought up all that land? He’s been scouring that cathedral for months and came up with nothing.” Sully said. I took a hefty sip at the mention of that insufferable trust fund baby.

“Yeah, the cathedral but,” I watched Nate work as he stood to grab his trusty notebook. He kept it on him at all times during a job. Filled it with thoughts, facts, memories, and funny little sketches here and there. He opened it up to pull out a map of the site and pointed to the cathedral. “we’re looking for a gravestone. See this is the area they’ve been searching but the graveyard is all the way over here.” I watched his finger drag from the cathedral over to damn near the other side of the map. Sam smiled.

“They’ve been looking in the wrong area!” He chuckled. Things were going as planned and he looked excited to start.

“I hear the weather in Scotland is nice this time of year.” Sully said, puffing his cigar.

“Well pack your bags guys. I guess we’re goin’ to Scotland!” Sam said, raising his glass to the three of us. “To us!” He toasted.

“And to lost pirate booty.” I added. I couldn’t even get the words out before I started giggling childishly into my glass. The brothers joined in on the laugh and Sully just sighed.

“You’re horrible. All of you.” He shook his head.

We made plans to take Sully’s plane in the morning and then continued to drink in celebration. After a while, everyone began to grow tired. Or least Sully and Nathan did. They left the party early as usual, leaving Sam and I to our own devices. I kicked my feet up, pulled a cigarette for myself and held one out for Sam. “I’m gonna need you to purchase a pack of cancer sticks for yourself tomorrow. You smoke like a chimney and my cigs are goin’ too damn quick.” I chuckled, placing a cigarette between my lips and fidgeting with the pack. I counted three more left over as he laughed and flicked his silver zippo, holding the flame to light my cigarette for me.

“Look at the pot callin’ the kettle black.” He chuckled before lighting his own. I took a drag with a laugh, coughing for exceeding my smoke intake as I kicked up my feet. My hands stinging from the smoke in my skinned knuckles. I didn’t mind much though. He glanced down at my hands and scoffed, standing to grab something. He returned to the table with the first aid kit and sat closer to me. “My idiot brother and his malpractice for tending to wounds. He forgot your hands.” He told me as he pulled out bandages, ointment, and cotton balls.

“Oh- you don’t have to do that!” I said as he took the hand nearest to him. He grabbed the bottle of scotch and pulled the cork with his teeth, carelessly pouring it over my open sores before I could refuse any further. I made some weird noise, snatching my hand away as the alcohol painfully cleaned the skin, shaking my hand in brief panic but the air only made it worse. “Ow! Mother fucker!” I exclaimed, wiggling my fingers as he reached for my wrist, his cigarette hanging lazily from his lips as he leaned forward to pat it dry with a cotton ball. He smirked at my reaction.

“Stop movin’ around, will ya? It’s gotta get cleaned or it’ll get infected. Then your fingers will fall off. You want that?” He told me in a fatherly tone. I inhaled through my nostrils and turned my head to smoke, resting my arm on the back of the chair as he continued to treat my “wounded hand”.

“You could’ve used the hydrogen peroxide. We actually have it in the kit.” I mumbled. He looked in the kit briefly at the big brown bottle labeled Hydrogen Peroxide.

“Ah! So we do! Sorry. I’ll use it on the other hand.” He said nonchalantly. I scoffed and shook my head. “I forgot to tell you earlier but look great tonight.” Sam spoke in a gentle voice; almost sounded like a stranger. I turned my head to look at him, blushing as I watched him contently tending to my knuckles, smoke spilling past his lips and out his nostrils as he puffed his cigarette. My heart skipped a beat as the shadows played off his striking features. What was he doing to me…

“I think you mean ‘looked’.” I chuckled, gesturing to my white shirt and denim shorts. I had taken off all my makeup and jewelry by now. My hair wet and starting to curl back as the air dries it. He shook his head.

“I said what I said. You look great tonight. You looked alright at the auction, too. That dress was nice on you… It’s the one you bought when we did recon in the city, right?” He asked. I didn’t even think he noticed. I nervously took a sip of my scotch.

“Yeah… yeah it is.” I answered softly. He gave a muted chuckle as he put ointment on my wounds. He gripped my fingers a bit tighter as they began to shake from the pain.

“Rafe seemed to like it.” He smirked. I raised a brow at him and smiled in amusement.

“Jealous much?” I asked. He flexed his lip and gave a half nod.

“Maybe a little bit…” he responded. I felt my cheeks heat up again. I wasn’t expecting that type of response. He looked at me a moment and sighed. “Listen… about earlier-”

“Sam-”

“Lemme finish.” He interjected, holding up a hand. He reached for the bandages and began to wrap my knuckles. “I’m sorry for calling you Princess so much. I didn’t mean piss you off or anything.”

“I don’t think you can help that.” I joked and he laughed, tucking the end of the bandage in at my palms to tie it off. Not too tight and not too loose.

“No I don’t think I can.” He chuckled. He motioned for the other hand as he ashed his cigarette and put it back in his mouth. I sighed in annoyance, pivoting in my seat and switching the cigarette to my other hand. I leaned on the table with my elbow as I gave him my other hand. This time he poured Peroxide on the cotton ball and dabbed at wounds carefully. It still stung but it didn’t hurt as much as the scotch by a long shot. “Thanks for saving my ass back there. You handled yourself pretty good.” He said. I gasped, dramatically placing a hand over my imaginary pearls.

“Two compliments in one night- woooow! Samuel Drake, do you have a little crush on me?” I joked. He suddenly became rather quiet but he continued to clean my wounds. It felt like all of the air had been sucked out of the room as I watched him. I was beginning to feel a bit flustered. “Sam you don’t really have a crush on me do you?” I asked. He didn’t answer. He just looked at me with a raised eyebrow. “Sam….” He just smiled to himself a little. He was enjoying this too damn much. I twisted up my face and hit him in the arm causing him to burst into the cutest laugh I’d heard from him.

“You should’ve seen your face!” He laughed, sniffling as he put out this cigarette in the ashtray. I hit his shoulder again and stifled a laugh as I enjoyed his smile. I pulled another one and he accepted it. I follow suit and put mine out as well. ‘Dammit. My last cigarette…’ I thought with a sigh as I lit one. It was enough for a morning smoke. “I’ll buy two packs tomorrow. You can have one.” He told me as he put ointment on my knuckles.

“How sweet.” I grumbled, leaning over the table to snatch up the bottle of scotch and pour myself another glass. I hovered over Sam’s glass as a silent question and he just nodded. So I poured his glass as well as he began to wrap my knuckles up. When he’d finished, he gathered everything up and pushed it to the side of the table.

“See? All better.” He said with a lopsided smile. I wiggled my fingers a bit and nodded.

“Thanks…” I said, taking a sip of scotch and a drag of my cigarette.

“How’s your leg?” He asked me. To be honest, I had completely forgotten. It was only a graze and it stopped hurting after Nathan cleaned it.

“‘Tis but a flesh wound.” I answered. I could see his eyes running over my body worriedly and I sighed, rolling my eyes. “I’m okay, Sam. Really.” I said. He held his hands up in defeat.

“Alright, alright. I’m just checkin’. Making sure you don’t have any broken bones n’ what not.” He said, turning off the lamp above us; leaning on the table with his elbows, his hands crossed in front of his chin as the cigarette dangled from his long fingers. I looked at him briefly, trying to figure him out. He was so open yet closed off at the same time. The room was lit by the bright full moon that shone through the open balcony doors. We sat for a moment in silence, listening to the pure sounds of Italian nature. From the sound of bugs singing softly in the background to the water splashing over each other in laps. It was peaceful. I smiled at him as I admired his tanned skin glowing the moonlight, smoke dancing in the air around him. He broke the silence with a low chuckle. “Y’know it’s the little things I’ve been appreciating since I’ve been outta prison lately.” He said, snapping me out of my trance.

“Yeah? Like what?” I asked, taking a drag of my cigarette. He scratched the stubble under his lip with his thumb with thought before taking a drag himself. He shot me a charm filled smile.

“Like… having a cup of coffee… the sound of the ocean…. Talking to a woman,” he gestured to me briefly and I gave a small smile. “grass even… Not much of it in a Panamanian prison, I can tell ya that. More dirt and sand than greenery. Any trees around were mostly dead.” He said, a look of depression clouded his hazel eyes for a moment. I could tell the memories haunted him still.

“Not much fun, I’d imagine.” I said and he let out a short but forced chuckle.

“No…. no it was not…” he seemed to go back for a moment, lost in his time spent there. I knew it had to be rough on him and I felt horrible that there was nothing I could do to soothe him. Empathetically, I put a hand on his arm. Almost like a reflex, he covered my hand with his own, brushing his rough thumb over the back of my hand as he stared into space.

“I heard the story of how you got out from Natey but I haven’t heard your version of it. I’m sure he skipped a few things here and there…” I said to him and he smirked, knowing it was exactly something his little brother would do. “You don’t have to if you don’t want though.” I added. He took a generous gulp of scotch before reaching for the bottle again.

“How much time do you have?” He asked and I made a thinking face.

“How much is left in that bottle?” I replied. I knew he couldn’t resist an opportunity to tell a story. With an attractively mischievous grin, he began to top up our glasses.

“So, I was in my cell doing a couple of sit-ups….” he began. I was in for a long night.

[trump1rocks-blog]

Jimhunters - Walter and Barbara Off-Screen Fanfic (Mature...ish? Eh, not really)

A fanfic about the aftermath of what happened between them in Jimhunters.  It’s not explicit.

"What do I know about being human?" 

 She leans against the table, quietly contemplating the meaning of it all. To outlive your child is a nightmare but to watch them become something you don't recognize anymore; It's another nightmare entirely. With no end in sight, the uncertainty eats away at you.

"I'm scared Walt. Everything's happening so fast. It was just the other day he was fine... I don't..." She halts, choking back tears. "...I don't want to lose him."

Walt turns to put away the remainder of the books albeit haphazardly on the shelf. Turning his attention back to her. "You haven't lost him Barbara. He's still here, just gone through a change."

"He got turned into a Troll! I-I-I didn't even know Trolls existed until a few days ago... a few months technically..." Barbara runs her fingers through her hair, frustrated.

Walt makes a half smirk but hides it so as not to offend her.

"Is he still Jim then? Is he still my son?"

"Of course. But Barbara..." His tone going serious yet again. Shes worried of what he's about to say. "You won't recognize him anymore..." Before she can respond with tears, he adds. "Because he won't recognize himself."

"You know that’s the case?"

"I know from experience, that will be the case."

Her hands crawl up to her chest to clench her proverbial heart. "What can I do?"

He unravels her fingers into his palm, pressing it lightly with his other hand. "You can help by reminding him that your still his family. When he rediscovers who 'him' is... will happen in time." He ends his advice with a gentle simper, doubly reassuring her things will be okay.

The words not only comfort her but send a warm surge through her blood. "Thank you Walt. I really appreciate..." She stutters, unsure why. She withdraws her hand.  "– I really appreciate you staying to help clean up."

“I wasn't about to leave you alone with such a mess. The kids will be alright without me. Besides my presence might of 'cramped their style' as they would say?" He jokes before readjusting the aforementioned books upright.

Barbara already feels more at ease but the tensity is still there. She looks intently at Walt's back, her stare lingers far longer than it should. Not a single thought in her head, no reason or idea as to why she's staring and yet she's looking at him like there's something strange about him.

He turns around ever so slightly and catches her in his peripheral vision, ready to say something she interrupts with an excuse to pivot from the awkwardness of her staring. "Would you. Would you like some coffee?"

"Coffee!?" He repeats. "At this hour?" He turns his head as if to look at a nearby clock.

But Barbara simply shrugs. "It's not like I'm going to get much sleep tonight anyway."

There’s a breif pause but soon he nods to her offer. Given What she’s been through, there’s no reason not to indulge her. "Alright. I'll take..."

"Three cream, no sugar?"

"You remembered?"

Barbara heads for the kitchen, more than ready to leave the room and catch some air. "You ordered it every time on our dates." She calls out from the hallway. "I don't know how you could take it without sugar."

Barbara hastily puts on the kettle, her hands shaking the entire time. With the water getting ready to boil she gives out a deep, pained sigh. Not even distractions can lift this burden of an uncertainty but they help. Just like coffee helps keep you awake, your bodies still tired but at least you can keep going. The situation hasn't changed, the world is coming to an end but something as simple as getting the instant coffee from the cupboard helps her ignore the larger situation at hand.

"You seem lost in your thoughts." She hears from the doorway.

She fumbles the plastic jar. "I'm just... not thinking much really. There's too much to think about so why bother trying?" She ends in an awkward laugh.

He rest the broom on the kitchen wall  and walks over to her. "Need any help?"

"No, it's instant." She chirps pointing at the upside down label on the jar. "See? Says it requires 'No tedious effort'. So you can sit down." She returns to lean against the counter, staring blankly at the wall just as she was before Walt entered.

He nods. "Ah. I see. Well I've put everything away and I swept up most of the dirt. That Troll really wreaked havoc in your living room."

She scoffs, releasing another sigh. "Wouldn't be the first time."

Her meaning comes through loud and clear. He reaches to brush the left side of his nose and sheepishly continues. "No, it certainly wouldn't be. For the record, when me and Jim were fighting, I was certain not to leave a mess."

"Thank you." She scoffs again but there is a levity to it. "Trying to kill my flesh and blood is one thing but heaven forbid if you get my rugs dirty."

This time he can't help but let out a laugh, though immediately trying to rectify it with a clearing of the throat. "Shall I shampoo the carpets while I'm here?" He whimpers.

She knows what Walt is trying to do. After looking everywhere except at him, she finally raises her head. "It's okay, I think we're even now. You did save my life after all.” She places the jar down. “And I wanted to thank you for earlier."

"Save your thanks. I already owed you for having risked your life in exchange for mine. Besides, my motives were selfish, you mean too much to me now before I’d let anything bad happen to you.”

She interrupts him. "That's not why I want to thank you."

He tilts his head. "Pardon?"

"You came running to Jim's aid when we thought he was in danger. You didn't have to do that."

Walter utters one of his infamous oh's. Scratching his head, a little unsure as to how he should reply. "The Tollhunter?” Well, he does have a way of growing on you."

“I appreciate you coming back to help him."

He raises his head haughtily, "I came back for you."

Her smile switches to a surprised frown but Walter finishes with, "Helping him happened to come second..."

Barbara tries to be happy but emotions once again begin to swell and has to draw herself away, twiddling her shaky hands on the counter as she worries over her son’s fate. The kettle whistles blows, interrupting them both. Walt takes his exit, leaving Barbara to prepare they're drinks and have her needed moment alone.

She comes out with tray in hand bearing two holiday mugs from one of her last Christmases. A trail of steam blows from them as she walks over to the table, presenting it to Walter. She grants him the mug depicting a snow family of three on it. Why she noticed this detail is beyond her but seeing him drink from it with a polite thanks, gives her a strange feeling of security.

"Hold on. Whats this?" He asks out of the blue, peering under the table ledge curious over what his foot just bumped.

She looks as well, spotting the familiar red book in the shadows. "My photo album?" She wonders, picking it up. "It must have gotten knocked under the table during earlier?”

"Sorry I missed it." Walt replies, reaching to relieve her of the album but Barbara pulls away. She rests it on the tabletop and lifts it open. Walter wonders to himself if he should suggest this may be a bad idea but ceases, it's not his place to say anything right now.

She skims through the book, looking intently at the snapshots of Jim's slow progression since birth. Some of the photos were jostled out of place so she neatly tucks them back under the slim plastic sheath. Walter's eyes follow the path of her hands along each photo, showing her own journey through motherhood. So many photo's of her and her son, Jim is of course but a baby looking wide eyed at the camera like it was his first time seeing one. There’s also her previous husband James but only in the photo's too precious to store away. He catches a glimpse of him in one Christmas photo holding the very mug he's drinking from now. The next page is a series of photo's from one particular outing at the park but only Jim or Barbara are in the shots now. There was no longer a third member to hold the camera for them.

Barbara stops. "This was our first normal moment together after... after everything that happened."

He rests his hand on her knee, beckoning her to not linger.

"The forecast predicted clouds but Jim insisted we go ahead with the picnic anyway and it turned out to be sunny. You know, this was the day I decided to go back to school and get my Bachelor's degree."

"You dropped out?" He says in suprise.

"Had to." She explained. "I was pregnant. I had lost so much time with the wedding that raising a baby meant I wouldn't have time to catch up.” Sipping some coffee, she soberly adds, “I decided to be a good wife and stay at home to raise my family; of course, James was quick to agree." Her tone comes across as annoyed, hinting to a more troubling aspect of her first marriage. "I don't regret it though. In the end I was there for Jim and when I went back to school, he was there for me. Despite how hard it was for the both of us." Her happiness returns, this time with an added sense of mischief. "He was so excited for me too when he heard I was going to be attending school just like him. I remember; one day he came back from making crafts at daycare with this..." She pauses with a snort, trying hard to hold back her laughter.

"Was it the infamous Macaroni necklace?” He jokes.

"No.” She howls. “No it was or he said it was supposed to be a pencil holder that I would use as part of my school supplies. It was made out of clay but..." She blushes again. "It looked, well I think I have a picture of it here."

She flips a page or two to the one depicting the infamous craft and Walt's face turns positively red in amused embarrassment. "Oh my!" He chirps.

“Yep! I felt...I felt pretty much the same!” She blushes.

Walter adds. “You think being a boy, he'd realize what that looks like?"

“You’d think that but he was still too young and innocent. When I picked him up that day I remember how he was waving it around trying to show me. All the other parents just stared. His reasons..." She pauses to catch her breath from laughing so hard. "His reasons were because it was for pencils, it needed to be tall and thin." She snickers.

" He had to use pink clay...”

"He was mad about that; said he wanted to use green but someone had used it all up. I still have this actually."

"You do?"

"Jim thinks I threw it out but I have it stored up in the attic. It's been there for years."

Walter rubs his face trying to massage out his smirk. "Poor thing probably can’t stand up straight anymore.”

Baraba, of course elbows him in the arm.

‘Did you end up using it?!” He suddenly asks.

“No! I didn't want to give my colleagues the wrong idea. I was just happy to see Jim be so invested in helping me. That Kiddo’s always been looking out for me.”

"That’s because you did a good job raising him." She hears him say. Barbara only sits there motionless, looking blankly at the album that Walter has to nudge her leg just to awaken her from the trance.

She perks up, albeit dazed and muffles the words sorry. She clears her throat before sipping some coffee, flipping to the next page.

In these photo's, Jim is clearly older by two years and looking far more like the Jim, Walt knows today or rather yesterday.

"Why is there a band-aid in this sleeve?" Walt grimaces, trying hard not to show disgust over what's probably an important memento for Barbara.

"That. Oh there's a story there. Jim was seven. He randomly toke off one day, disappearing for hours. Turns out, he had been chasing after a cat the whole time.”

'I hope that habit doesn't persist for the wrong reasons.' Walt thinks quietly to himself.

She continues. "I was so worried something happened to him. Calling his name for what felt like an eternity. I was just about to phone the police when there he was behind my back with an angry cat in his arms and his face covered in scratches. He thought the cat was hurt so he wanted me to treat it. I ended up having to treat him instead. This was one of the band-aid's I used. I kept it to remind myself that no matter how bad I thought things were, everything turned out fine." Her words come to a saddening slow. Barbara just stares blankly at the photo of her scratched up son. Her finger slowly tightening over the snapshot, that Walt can see her hand turning white.

"Barbara?"

His words fall on deaf ears, she sits there somberly, fidgeting in her seat trying to battle the negative thoughts in her head. He's ready to tap her leg once more but as he reaches out the chairs begin to quake! A loud thunder shoots up from the foundation of the house and everything around them shakes in pandemonium.

"Walt!" She screams.

He throws his arms around her shielding her from the Earthquake as it reach it's peak. Books stumble off there shelves in a crash. The lights flicker as the tremor roars on madly; finishing as quickly as it began. Both of them unharmed. It takes a New York minute before his heart stops racing but Barbara has yet to recover, despite the tremor having ended, she hyperventilates on his lapel.

"It's alright..." He whispers, patting her hair. "It's alright, It was only a small quake. They've happened before." Walter lies, knowing full well there was something unnatural about the tremor.

But despite his gentle caress, she cannot relax. The earthquake did more than startle her, it's the straw that broke the camels back. The dam bursts and out from Barbara’s collected self comes a flood of tears. Repeating his name indistinguishably, she lets loose a flurry of muffled wails into his lapel. To her, the world has come to an end, everything she once knew is gone and her very life or worse, her son’s could be destroyed. Walter can do nothing more than to continue cradling her, rocking her back and forth as she continues to shake from crying. He holds her head close under his chin, staring at an empty wall with no lead as to what he can say to rectify the situation. Perhaps holding her is enough? The tears continue with no sign of ceasing, to the point where Walter feels the dampness seeping through his sweater and onto his chest but It doesn't bother him. A good deal of time passes before the sobbing trickles out into variable sniffling then halting completly. The gentle rocking continues at her silent consent; they're shared breathing being the lull-a-bye that sends her back to peace. She thinks of nothing else other than the bliss of having someone here at such an ungodly hour.

"It feels like the worlds coming to an end." Her shattered voice croaks.

Walter sits there contemplating her words. He looks over to the small stereo resting on the self by the couch. He reaches for his pocket and pulls out his phone. Narrowing his brow at the phone screen, he releases her from his embrace in order to get up.

She watches him walk out into the living room. "What are you doing?" She asks.

After a few swipes on his phone, Walt places it in a small slot on the stereo and taps the screen. 'La vie en Rose' begins to play. "I remember when the world was coming to an end in 1832. Then again in 1918, and then 1939. And somehow we survived, just like now." He removes his jacket and rests it neatly on the couch. Walking over to her with his hand out, beckoning her to take it.

She blushes, looking at his empty palm. "You know I'm not that good at dancing..."

"Just follow my lead." 

Taking his hand, Walt pulls her up from her seat. Together he raises there right hands out in the traditional arm styling of dance; with his left just centimeters off her waist. Pose ready, they pull into the romantic sway of the American smooth. He starts off with a simple step back, turning her ever so slowly around the living room. The song continues on, reciting the happy lyrics of seeing the world in a positive light once you’re in love.

He holds her out to do a slow twirl. Unsure, she tries her best being as awkward as a beginner could get but by Walter's standards, it's perfect. Barbara returns back to the comfort of his chest. Looking intently at one another while listening to the lyrics of someone declaring their love, proves too much for her that she rests her head down on his bosom to hide her flustered expression. Her heartbeat comes to a slow, falling in-line with the steady rhythm of their dance. They make circles around the floor not needing to change the songs as each one after another plays only the gentlest of love songs for them to move to. This unexpected romantic moment proves to be therapeutic. For the first time that evening, her mind pulls away from the fear over her son’s situation. Walter’s here to aid her and stay he will remain for as long as she needs. There’s no doubt in her mind about how she feels about him. Their steps become fewer and fewer till it boils down to just them standing there swaying, He could have sworn he heard the muffled words,"I love you, Walt." but dismissed it. The words I love you are heard many times throughout their songs that perhaps his hope had him mishear things?

The night continues on with the same monotony of them swaying to the rhythm but it's a monotony they enjoy. With the night drawing on as it is, soon the inevitable dreaded words are spoken by Barbara. "What time is it?"

He stops dancing almost immediately, looking at his watch in shock. "Oh my goodness, It's quarter to eleven! How'd it get so late?"

"The coffee must've kept us up." She remarks, adjusting her glasses.

He’s absolutely ashamed of himself for having kept her so long. "I completely lost track of how late it was getting. I do apologize."

"Why?" She asks him, pulling away to take the dirty mugs from earlier back to the kitchen.

"I don't want to keep you of your rest. I can't imagine you've gotten much of that these past few nights." Picking up his jacket and phone, Walt makes his way to the foyer. Calling out to her as he gets ready to make his leave. "You have my number, if you need anything or just want to talk give me a call. I'm here if you need me."

Barbara hears him from the kitchen. Tossing the mugs into the sink, she hurries out to meet him in the hall. Coming to a slow a few feet away from him, she approaches in inches; her hands cupped at her waist. "You're leaving?"

Walter carries on like he somehow must reason with her. "Well Barbara, it's getting late, don't you..." His gaze catches her body language, noting the way she draws her hands up from her lower region to her stomach in the most alluring of fashion. She looks meekly into his eyes in such an admirable way that he hardly remembers what he was just doing. Having been made aware, "Oh..." is the only word that falls from his mouth. He returns her advances with own his look of longing, tossing his car keys back on the end table in the hall.

"Don't go Walt..." She whispers upon his approach.

"I'm not going anywhere Barbara." 

[mythiica]

Reader x Ieyasu Tokugawa - How to Properly Brew Shincha Tea

Title: How to Properly Brew Shincha Tea

Fandom: Ikemen Sengoku

Character: Ieyasu Tokugawa

Genre: slow burn, romance, au

Warnings: if you are allergic to slow burn, stay away

Intended Gender Audience: Female Audience

Word Count: 2460 words 

Requested by: @fiction-and-melodies​ (Can I request a slow burn turned floof fic for Ieyasu x female reader? If you wouldn't mind doing a cafe!au it would be amazing)

Other comments: An AU where the warlords are… normal… basically they hold the same “power” positions, for example, nobu would be like the owner of a business corporation and his vassals are either vps, or like other people of power; shingen and kenshin would be co-owners of competing business owners and their vassals would similarly be other people of power; kennyo would be some type of like news reporter or something LOL basic explanation but it’ll help with setting. This takes place in present day japan, and this is the recipe i used to describe how to brew the tea!

“Come now, Ieyasu, don’t wear that scowl. I’ve been told this place has good tea,” Nobunaga calls as Hideyoshi opens the door. This still doesn’t convince Ieyasu that he should join them – he would much rather be pursuing his hobby for collecting herbs for personal use. “Rumors say there is someone who can properly brew shincha tea,” he adds before stepping inside.

         Ieyasu growls angrily before storming inside after everyone else. They are seated at a large booth, and someone hands them menus.

        “To be clear, I’m only going to try this tea you’ve mentioned, and nothing else,” Ieyasu comments. He doesn’t even touch the menu, and everyone breaks out into laughter. This only makes him pout and pick up his chopsticks, wielding them like twin weapons. “Why do you mock me?” he demands, clicking the wooden sticks together.

        “You’re such a tsundere, ‘yasu! Like a benevolent kitten rolling around,” Masamune says, trying to contain his laughter.

        Before Ieyasu has a chance to leap over the table and strangle him, you clear your throat and give them a large smile. “Hello, my name is (Y/n), and I’ll be taking care of you today! May I start everyone off with something to drink?”

        Nobunaga leans forward and whispers to Masamune, “Can I take her to go?” They laugh again, making you huff, but Mitsunari slaps Nobunaga upside the head. “I apologize for them. May I please have a water?” he asks kindly.

        Mitsuhide ponders for a moment before ordering a black coffee. Masamune and Nobunaga ask if you have any alcohol, but you shake your head, saying that only the margaritas have a little bit of liquor in them. They end up asking for shots of espresso - if they can’t drink shots of alcohol, it might as well still be shots of something concentrated.

        You turn to Ieyasu and smile, pushing back a few strands of hair that fell from your bun and over your forehead. “What would you like?”

        Without looking at you, he says, “Do you make shincha tea here?”

        “Yes – would you like a pot for the table?”

        He nods before handing you the menu.

        “Is that all?”

        “For now, yes.”

        “Alright, I’ll be back in a few minutes with the drinks and to take your food orders!” Pocketing your notebook, you turn and head towards the kitchen.

        Mitsuhide leans forward, resting his elbows on the table before placing his chin in the center of his palms. “My, my, so cold to such a kind person. You’re harsh as ever, Ieyasu.”

        Ieyasu simply pulls out a book and begins to read instead of listening to the rest of them tease him for not oggling at you. Mitsunari pushes his glasses further up his nose and glares at them. “Maybe enough is enough. Let’s discuss business. What are we going to do about the Uesugi-Takeda Corporation?”

        Nobunaga waves his hand. “No business. That’s all we’ve been talking about for the past few days. Let’s enjoy ourselves for a bit.”

        Mitsunari opens his mouth to protest, but he stops when you place the glass of water down in front of him. After giving everyone their drink, you place a stone plate in the center of the table and then a stone cup in front of Ieyasu. He acts unimpressed, but is actually watching you pour the tea into the cup. You’re using the correct technique… if the two of you had been in Sengoku Japan. Who pours tea like that? Ieyasu continues to critique your work mentally, and doesn’t realize that you’ve set the pot down and are now asking for food orders.

        “Would you like something to eat?”

        “No.”

        Masamune rolls his eye and runs a hand through his hair. “Apologies for that one. He’s kind of like a prude old man in public. That’s why we don’t take him out of his cage much. What is this? The first time in two weeks?”

        “Three weeks, actually,” Mitsuhide corrects, following suit with the joke.

        You give them a wry laugh before leaving to submit their orders in the kitchen.

        “Well, aren’t you going to try it?” Mitsunari asks. “I’m rather curious to know how it tastes as well.”

        Ieyasu brings the cup to his lips, blowing slightly on the surface, and then takes a sip.

        He nearly drops the cup.

        Hideyoshi pats Ieyasu on the back. “Did it go down the wrong pipe?”

        “Not at all…” he replies, trying to contain his surprise, “in fact… it’s quite delicious. This is very hard to achieve.”

        “Should have been nicer to her, you know. Maybe she would have shown you how she brews it.”

        Mitsunari glares at Masamune. “Was that an innuendo for something?! Leave the young lady alone you devilish dragon. She has done nothing to deserve this attention from you and your womanizer ways.”

        While everyone laughs at the comment Mitsunari made, Ieyasu looks down into the white ceramic cup, admiring the vibrant green of the tea. He wanted to speak with the chef and ask them how they had managed to come up with something so amazing. So when you walk past their table, he motions for you.

        He asks for the head chef, so you assume something is wrong. Bowing your head, you leave quickly and return a few moments later with the cook.

        “Tell me, where have you learned to make tea like this?” Ieyasu asks plainly.

        “Oh, I don’t make it.”

        He raises an eyebrow. “Surely this isn’t store-bought.”

        “Not at all! (Y/n) makes it to order. She’s quite talented isn’t she?”

        Ieyasu turns his head slightly to look at you as you help a toddler into their highchair. A few strands of hair fall forward, covering your face, but you catch them before tucking them back behind your ear.

        “I see. Thank you.”

“Hello, what may I get for you today?”

        “Shincha tea.”

        You look over the edge of your notepad, and you’re surprised to see Ieyasu looking back at you. “Welcome back, sir. Will that be all?”

        He nods and hands you the menu, maintaining his air of detachment.

        When you return, he nods at the chair across from him. “Can you sit with me?”

        “Oh, I’m not allowed to sit with customers during my shift.”

        “Even if I invite you?”

        You give him a small smile. “I get off in an hour,” you say, trying to compromise.

        Ieyasu huffs, crossing his arms over his chest. “Never mind then.”

        You thought that he would leave, but Ieyasu ends up pulling his phone out of his pocket and messaging people. An hour crawls by, and you hang up your apron on the hook and approach his table. He looks up from his phone for the first time since he sat down.

        “Thank you for waiting for me.”

        He rolls his eye. “I did no such thing. I only wanted to enjoy my tea.”

        Placing your hands on your hips you scoff playfully and grip the strap of your purse tighter. “I’ll be going to the small farmer’s market around the corner from here if you’d like to come with me. I know someone who sells the best shincha for the tea I make.”

        “Even if I did want to get some, I don’t know how to brew it. The powder would be useless to me.”

        “I can show you how to make it.”

        Ieyasu looks at you slowly, trying to figure out if you mean what you’re saying. He sees the spark in your eyes, so he gives in, standing up and pushing his chair in. “Lead the way, (Y/n).”

        You smile brightly, happy that he had remembered your name, and hold the door for him. As the two of you walk down the street, it occurs to you that Ieyasu sticks out like a sore thumb. These parts were known for being home to people of lower social classes, and he was wearing a beige suit, a gold watch, and leather shoes – his outfit combined likely cost more than what most people make in half a year in these parts.

        Nonetheless you walked side-by-side with him, herding him through alleys and small streets until you reach the market.

        You’re used to the bustling sight of people interacting, but for Ieyasu, it must be a new experience for him. He stops at the entrance to the market, marveling at the sight in front of him.

        “Common now, you’ll just get in everyone’s way if you stay there.”

        When he doesn’t respond, you pull him forward, dragging him towards a small stand. An older man sitting in the shade of the cover looks up. “Ah, (Y/n), I was wondering when you’d visit. And you brought a friend too!”

        “Hello, Saito-sama. How are you?”

        “Old bones, but can’t complain. Would you like the usual?”

        You nod, but hold up two fingers. “But two bags please. One for me and one for him.”

        The older man raises an eyebrow at Ieyasu. “This uptight man wants some peasant tea?”

        Ieyasu is about ready to bark at the old man, but when you start laughing and brush your fingers against his shoulder, he settles down and just scowls into the distance.

        “Yes. I’m going to teach him how to brew it properly.”

        The older man nods, understanding. The two of you leave with small plastic bags filled with the green powder, and you take a different route on your way back.

        “Where are we going?”

        “Back to the cafe.”

        He looks at you. “I thought you were taking me to wherever you live.”

        You stop and laugh, amused by this comment. “I barely know you, Ieyasu. Plus, I don’t have the right tools at home.”

        You turn the light in the kitchen on before fetching two aprons. After throwing one at Ieyasu, you get to work, pulling out a ceramic pot and a bottle with charcoal-filtered water. You pour some of the water into the pot and let it boil over a high flame – it doesn’t take long before the liquid bubbles.

        Once it’s boiling, you take it off the fire and let it sit a bit.

        Ieyasu raises an eyebrow, questioning your methods. Before he has a chance to ask what you’re doing, you pour most of the water into the teapot and then the rest into the cups for drinking. Next, you dump about two teaspoons of the tea into the teapot.

        Now, you lean back, letting it sit and seep.

        “How strange… Where did you learn this?”         “My grandmother taught me,” you explain. “She was a traditional woman, and when I’d visit her in the country, she’d make this for me. I basically lived off tea one summer.”

        He wants to know more about you.. Although he tried to resist you, Ieyasu has come to like you. Unlike the others, you have a grounded and calming aura that reminded Ieyasu of simpler times. He felt strangely drawn to you, but didn’t want to admit it aloud. So he bit his tongue and didn’t make any more comments.

        After three minutes, you use a fine sieve to pour the tea into the warm cups.

        Ieyasu helps himself, taking a long sip of it before leaning back on the counter. “It’s sweet… I’ve never had anything like this.”

        You smile, happy you’ve made a good brew. “If you’d like, I can write the items you need if you’d like to try on your own.”

        Like usual, he only nods instead of replying verbally. You take a quick sip of the tea before fetching a piece of paper and a pen. A drop of the tea lingers on the corner of your mouth, glinting in the dim light from above.

        He has the urge to wipe it away, but Ieyasu knows it would be inappropriate. Despite this, he cannot shake the idea of touching your skin. When you stretch a hand out with the list, he can smell the tea on your skin, like a delicate perfume.

        “Is something wrong?”

        “No. Thank you.”

        You stretch and smile. “Happy to help. I put my number there too if you have questions.”

        Ieyasu holds on tightly to the small plastic bag with herbs for the tea, but waves slightly with his other hand as he leaves. You lock the door of the cafe and start walking towards your car. He watches you for a moment, scolds himself, and gets into his car as well.

At home, Ieyasu attempts to make the tea as you had. He boils the water for a few minutes, then lets it sit, warms the ceramic cups. Despite all of his precise measuring, it doesn’t taste the same. He’s angered by this – why can’t he brew tea? It’s just ground up herbs in water, why is it so difficult?

        After dumping the liquid down the drain, he slumps on the couch, depressed by his failure.

        From the corner of his eye, he sees his phone and thinks about the list. Ieyasu pulls the paper out from his jacket pocket and rereads the steps for brewing the tea before admiring your handwriting. Not only had you taken the time to teach a stranger the art of brewing proper shincha tea, but you passed on a precious tradition as well. He felt honored to have this information… but then a cloud of sadness clouds over him when he remembers that he’s likely only ruined the recipe and brought shame upon it.

        Ieyasu argues with himself, but finally gives in, reaches for the device, and starts dialing the number.

        The call connects, and he waits for a voice.

        “Hello?”

        “Something’s wrong with the tea you gave me.” Ieyasu slaps himself for starting off with that. He should have said hello first and then continued.

        But when he hears your laugh on the other side of the line, he relaxes, melting further into the cushions of the couch.

        “Having trouble?”

        “Yes…” he confesses.

        “I have tomorrow off if you’d like to meet and practice. It’s not something that you try once and are perfect at. I still make bad batches occasionally. Don’t give up.”

        Ieyasu’s heart flutters for a moment. Your simple words had a heavy effect on him. He wanted to try again and to make you proud. “Can you come here in the morning?” he asks after a moment. He bites his lip like an eager child, waiting for your response.

        “Sure! I’ll see you then.”

        “I’ll text you details. Goodbye.”

        And he hangs up. But then proceeds to slap himself again for acting so childishly. He tosses the phone away, and pouts. Masamune was right, and he hated that.

        He was a tsundere, and he could not escape it.

[chartreuseblood]

Octopus’s Garden

McCoy was sat dozing off with his face pressed into his arms which were folded on his desk when the chime of his console startled him.

He was one of those people who were grumpy upon waking, or grumpier than usual in his case, but he still allowed himself a small stretch before answering. 

“Sickbay, McCoy here.” He figured it was probably Jim comming to bug him over a dumb question or something but was surprised to hear Spock instead.

“Dr. McCoy, I commed to inquire if you would accompany me in… an endeavor.” He relayed.

“That sentence scares me but alright. Where is this going down?” Bones was suspicious of what Spock was alluding to but he wasn’t going to let him be reckless and get hurt or anything. 

“Holodeck.”

“Give me five minutes,” which is how long he’d need to wake up and mentally prepare himself, “and I’ll be there. McCoy out.” 

The Enterprise’s holodeck always had a one in a thousand chance of making a minor error so it was probably good that he was going to be down there. He didn’t like the mystery surrounding the situation so he hoped that once he got down to the deck that Spock’s expression or held objects would give him any sort of clue. 

Upon arrival, he could tell that Spock held what appeared to be a stack of fabric, folded neatly, showing that Spock had done the folding himself. It seemed to be a thick stack so Bones was the one to raise an eyebrow for once but Spock would not indulge him in an answer until they walked in and were alone.

“It is clear you are wondering as to the nature of why I asked you to come here. There is a particular holosuite I would like to test out and I… deemed you a worthy candidate to be… my companion.” Spock seemed to be hiding something but it wasn’t worth the fight to ask so Bones went along with it. Spock selected the program he had in mind, concealing it from McCoy’s view in an action of near embarrassment. 

The holochamber doors opened after a few moments of creating the world image. What they stepped into was a large room that was reminiscent of a 21st century indoor pool. Spock had a stone cold stare in front of himself, watching the glassy lake-like pool, seeming as though he wasn’t breathing.

“Spock…” McCoy laid his hand on Spock’s elbow and Spock let out his breath through his nose. Bones already knew Spock had, to some degree, an aversion to water. He always assumed that it was because Spock was from a dry desert planet but guessed there may have been something deeper to it. 

“Spock, what are you planning—” “Immersion therapy.” Spock still seemed frozen, even as he spoke honestly.  For a fleeting moment, Bones wanted to smack him upside the head and drag him off but he knew better and knew Spock would be too tenacious. Instead, he settled for a heavy sigh and let Spock hand him the pile of regulatory swim suit that was intended for him.

There were dressing rooms off to the side so they entered together and each took a stall to change into the clinging fabric of the swim suits. The shorts were fairly loose but the shirts were form-fitting and always made McCoy uncomfortable so he kept it in the back of his mind to take it off when he decided he couldn’t handle it any longer. 

When they emerged, he was taken a back for a minute upon seeing how Spock’s shirt was so shapely and showing off the curve of his chest and muscles. He composed himself after staring for a second and followed Spock out to the pool. Spock trailed into the water and got about waist deep, Bones opting to sit on the edge in front of him and dip his feet in. 

The water was lukewarm but more to the cold side, causing Spock to shiver once. Although Bones noticed, he neglected to say anything because it was likely involuntary and Spock couldn’t have controlled it. He did some uncomfortable moving of his torso for a minute as he watched Spock adjust but inevitably pulled his shirt up and off. Spock tilted his head as he watched the discarding of the shirt and noted the pink scarring below McCoy’s pecs. He almost wished he was as confident to show off his top surgery scars but reminded himself that modesty was certainly a better route.

“Hey Spock… Wouldn’t you be more comfortable down there if you didn’t have to deal with that stiff shirt on?” McCoy seemed to have been on the same wavelength of thought as him in that moment, absentmindedly kicking his feet in the water. 

Spock was hesitant, coming close to asking if it was a blatant request to remove his shirt, but complied anyway, revealing the green scars under his chest and the forest of hair across his torso. His human side took hold for a second as he tossed the shirt on top of McCoy’s, unintentionally spooking Bones as it landed.

“Jesus… For a second, I thought you were going to snap that at me like a towel.” It was an illogical thought, knowing Spock wouldn’t dare, but it was the first thing his brain came to.

“Snap it at you?” The confusion was written all over Spock’s face, from the raised eyebrow down.

“Old Terran tradition of winding up a towel and flicking your wrist to hit someone. Usually in a locker-room.” Bones never thought he’d have to explain it in all of its ridiculous glory but here he was.

 “Illogical but I imagine humans find it amusing.” “Yeah, unless you’re the one hit.” The thought of being hit gave him memories of being a little boy in Georgia, surrounded by his friends, all snapping their towels at each other and the unusually painful sensation of it all.

Spock simply nodded as he prepared himself to submerge and face the water head-on. The cogs of his mind must have been turned at a great velocity or loudly because McCoy stopped kicking his fee and sat up straighter to watch more tentatively.

He took a deep breath and lowered himself below the water line. His black hair floating on the top of the water, bobbing up and down. His breathing was even and methodical as always, McCoy watching his air bubbles from above. Spock was calm and composed until about halfway through his breath when he realized he was slowly going through his current air supply and the idea of being surrounded by cold dark water with no air sent an anxiety through his body. 

His panic would have sent anyone else to start flailing perhaps but he simply shut down all over, ceasing breathing while he was at it. Bones took the lack of bubbles as a bad sign immediately.

“Lord have mercy.. Spock!” He bent over, careful not to fall in, and thanked the lord that Spock was close enough to be able to be grabbed out of the water. 

He was almost like those cases of adrenaline rush where “super” strength is awarded as he somehow had the strength to pull Spock’s dense Vulcan ass out of the water at an extreme speed. He held Spock against himself, almost falling backwards, as Spock coughed up water, head over McCoy’s shoulder. 

Once he stopped coughing, Bones left him to grab a towel, making sure he could sit stably before he did. The towel was draped across Spock’s shaking shoulders, laying over where his hands were placed on his shoulders as he held himself, and McCoy sat down to gingerly hold him again. Neither said a word for a good few minutes. 

“Spock, look at me,” McCoy began, prompting Spock to pick his head up, “Let me dry your face.”

Spock’s eyes gently closed and Bones took one corner of the towel to begin wiping. He began at the long eyelashes that held droplets, hoping it was just pool water and not a bit of tears, and dried the forehead then cheeks. Next, he moved to the single drop on the cupid’s bow, drying the chin while he was at it, and went around the cup of the pointed ears, leaving a tingling sensation behind. Finally, he put the entire towel over Spock’s head and delicately rubbed the black hair that was already reverting to natural curls in a wild manner.

“Really, Doctor?” Spock inquired, not amused but not removing the towel as it hid his natural hair texture.

“There he is! I almost thought we lost you.” Perhaps it wasn’t the best time to make jokes but McCoy was using it as a coping mechanism to stop internally freaking out for a moment. 

“I am working on my composure.” The look Spock was giving was half-lidded and irritated, nearly making Bones regret feeling any worry. 

“I know that you were scared down there and that’s why you shut down so listen here… Fear is a primitive instinct among many species so there’s no use in trying to hide that you actually felt fear for once in your damned life and just admit you have some degree of aquaphobia!” McCoy’s hands were curled into fists that began to shake ever so slightly.

“A bit harsh, wouldn’t you say?” Spock tilted his head and raised a brow, still not entirely devoid of frustration. Bones grew angrier for a moment but gave up.

“I’m just tired of you playing this game of denying that you feel absolutely anything… We all know that you’re extremely emotional inside but keep it under wraps… So just…” Bones just sighed and brought his knees to his chest, rubbing the bridge of his nose. 

He sort of curled in on himself for a minute before Spock quietly said, “McCoy?”

 “Perhaps,” Bones sighed again, lifting his head slightly, “perhaps you’re too foolhardy and stubborn…” It appeared that his anger had dissolved and he was left with a sense of melancholy. 

Spock contemplated for a moment before taking one of his hands and holding it almost tenderly, rubbing a circle into its palm with his thumb. He could feel the now residual anger being clouded once more by concern and now with a side of that dismal of knowing this was a fight that couldn’t be won. 

He brought the hand closer to his mouth and pressed phantom kisses onto its knuckles. McCoy just chuckled.

“That makes me feel like a southern belle. I don’t think anyone’s ever kissed my hand before... It’s not the 19th century anymore.” He let Spock ghost another kiss on his hand then did the same in return, hoping to elicit a reaction since Vulcan hands are so sensitive. 

Spock flushed slightly before offering his fingers for an ozh’esta, which Bones accepted, and allowed a sly curl of the lips as the back of his neck was held and his forehead kissed.

“Now, can we get out of these soaking wet swim trunks into, say, pyjamas?” McCoy questioned, becoming cold himself despite the heat of Spock’s skin.

“Affirmative.”

[calleo-bricriu]

(( I found this untagged thing looking for something else, and it was amusing enough that I'm cleaning it up into a short drabble. This would have been from 29-08-1990, with  @absintheabsence .   Mild additions for clarity as the post was just a back and forth conversation.))

"Why do I get the feeling that you are absolutely merciless in cracking your knuckles, neck, shoulders, or back and, in fact, delight in people’s looks of horror?" From anyone else, that might have sounded critical; in this case, it was more rhetorical.

"Suppose I could be," Calleo somehow managed to shrug, despite being in some form of half laying, half sitting, partially upside down position on the sofa, "but that only seems to happen if I’ve been sitting or laying strangely for a long period of time."

“Strangely is the only way you lay.”

“That’s honestly fair." Considering how he was, in fact, laying at the moment it was more than fair. "The worst is when I use furniture incorrectly by laying on the floor with my feet up on it instead of just sitting on it like a regular person.” 

“I’m still not convinced you’re of woman born. More likely you wandered in from a forest somewhere to find new ways of tempting the unwary.” This was not the first time Grindelwald had told Calleo something to that effect.

“My mother might argue with that point, considering she was there. Still not a big fan of the stone though.”

“It’s an acquired taste, I’ll give you that.”

How anyone could find a stone bed, of all things, to be an acquired taste he couldn't imagine; but, then, if it's what you're stuck with you're likely to convince yourself that it's not that bad.

“It’s uncomfortable and you know it." Not so much a protest as it was a fact. "I’m surprised any part of your back still works.”

“Likely because the window’s too narrow for me to have jumped.” Grindelwald often made jokes of that nature, at least, Calleo assumed they were (for the most part) nothing more than black humour.

“Good!" Calleo unwound himself from whatever odd-but-relaxing position he'd been in on the couch and stood, eyeing the older Wizard up and down, "But seriously, let me take a look.”

“You can’t be serious.”

“I am.” Calleo canted his head, slightly confused as to what gave the impression that he'd not been serious.

“You are absolutely not a human person! You’ve just given yourself away.” Still, Grindelwald didn't exactly move away from him. He didn't more toward Calleo either.

“I’m definitely a human person even if I’m occasionally a magpie.”

“Willing to touch this old hide with hand or claw? No, spirit, I’m wise to your tricks.” Whether he was joking or genuinely unsettled wasn't at all clear. Those waters still had a tendency to get a bit muddied.

“I mean," Calleo began almost apologetically, "I’ve got dragonhide gloves, but that seems weird.”

“It’s been many years since I was fit to be touched or looked at. Shoo; go pick apart another puzzle.” Grindelwald must not have thought Calleo would do anything but listen to that mild order to go away; if he had, he might have at least tried to put some distance between himself and Calleo.

“Well, I’ve not got my glasses on so you look fine. No puzzles today, though. Busy evening and all." He spoke brusquely now, the way one might to a child making a fuss, "You’re free to keep protesting like a cat in the bath if you want to, though it’s not going to make much difference.”

“…you wouldn’t dare.”

“So, a fun little tidbit: If I’ve set my mind to something, it’s getting done one way or another.” The unspoken ending left no question to the fact that Grindelwald was simply being told he could either accept it or, well, act like a cat in a bath.

There was a hissed intake of breath before he bolted. Of all the days to leave the wand on his desk!

“Cat in the bath seems accurate.” It wasn't even a flick of a wand so much as it was a flick of the wrist; after all, it wasn't a complicated spell.

“If you expect me to claw your eyes out, I may very w-! Oh, fuck directly off!” Grindelwald found himself dangling midair from his ankle, seething.

“Look," Calleo walked over to him and made a perfectly ridiculous show of getting Grindelwald lifted to eye level--even if he still kept him upside down, "knock it off and at least put on a good show of being a functional person and I’ll let you watch what I’m going to do with some of that records information later.”

“…bah. You win.”

“Usually do eventually!” Calleo flashed a brilliant, self-satisfied grin.

“How sweet you are when you’re unbearably smug. Now let me down, you little shit.”

“You’re lucky I won’t just drop you.”

[boogiewrites]

Don’t Call Her Annie. Part 2. Advice & Arrests

Characters: Jim Hopper x Reader (OFC)

Word Count: 4300+

Summary:  Annette Horowitz is Joyce’s younger sister. She hasn’t been the perfect sibling or aunt but after she finds out Will is missing, she finds herself crashing back into Hawkins to do everything in her power to help, driven by a need to prove herself. She hasn’t been around much in the past 20 or so years, but when she comes back home she finds old friends, old habits and old feelings she’d thought she’d finally escaped. Can she really change or is she just kidding herself? 

A/N: I just hit 400 followers! So have 4000 words in celebration!

Chapter 1 Chapter 3 Chapter 4

Warnings: Angst. Language. Fighting. Fluff. Mentions of gore. Mentions of drug use. Mental Illness. Trauma.

You can check out my other work on My Masterlist.

Tagged folks are at the bottom, if you’d like to be added or removed, just leave a reply and I’ll see it! Any positive feedback or messages are appreciated. Thanks!

With fighting a Demogorgon and being on the run from the government checked off your list of things to do before you die, you find yourself in the calm aftermath of the traumatic experience.

You found yourself with the kids the night Jim and Joyce left to go to the Upside Down for Will. You'd begged Joyce to go in her place. Jim had then yelled at both of you because he wanted neither of you to go.It didn’t go unnoticed by any of the three of you...how strange it felt to be together again fighting. Jim was hit with a wave of nostalgia, the Horowitz girls both yelling, teaming up together against him. He never stood a chance. After Joyce pulled the "I'm his mother." card that you couldn't top, you'd reluctantly stayed behind in the gym with the kids. You had ended up being useful at least, getting them running and stalling and misdirecting Brenner's men as they closed in on the school. You'd seen the Demogorgon emerge from the wall, as you vibrated with fear at the sight. You heard it's shrill noises that hurt your ears even after the fact. You'd been let go of by the uniformed men as they all grabbed their guns to kill it. You'd turned and ran down the hallway as fast as you could. You grabbed an automatic rifle off of one of the bodies near you as you'd hid behind a corner. Your shoes slipped in the blood on the linoleum as you tried to scurry to find the kids after you saw the oozing, heaving beast move to one of the bodies at the end of the hallway.

You don't talk about what happened to you to anyone. Not even your sister, even though you knew she wanted you to. You weren't about to add your problems onto hers. You were a bit too traumatized to immediately want to run away like you normally would at this point. You found yourself staying with Joyce more often than not. With the thought of not being able to spend time with your family again after the close call with Will, you start to realize your time may be better spent with them. You had built in people you felt you could trust, not many people had that. Not just your family, but a new group of people you'd called strangers what felt like just moments ago. It wasn't until faced with losing it all that you realized it's importance.

As the weeks pass, you start to feel like you can function again, leave the house, not have to get drunk to sleep, not jump at every sound you hear when you're alone. You start the painful process of getting yourself back into one piece, dragging yourself out of the depression.

You come back from a ride to clear your head. You see the cars in the driveway, the lights on and laughter from inside. You feel the pull again, the urge to run from the picturesque moment. You see Jim's Police Blazer in addition to Joyce and Jonathon's cars. He'd kept checking in with visits and phone calls. You'd began to find his attentiveness endearing. He’d brought back your nephew and he could’ve never checked on your family again. His obligation was fulfilled, but he’d kept on appearing when you’d start to forget about him again. You begrudgingly admit to yourself that he was a good man, a man you could trust. He wasn’t the man of subtle villainous intentions you’d warped some of your memories into to cope with your infantile heartbreak.

At the end of the evening, you'd been sneaking away to the backyard, leaning against the hidden side of the shed, trying to ignore the feelings in your gut. It'd been getting worse, and tonight you'd found yourself not wanting to turn around when you reached the county line. You take out another cigarette, trying to reason with yourself.

He sees you start to knock your pack of cigarettes against your palm as you slink out of the room, hiding your face with your hair. Your long legs carry you almost silently down the back steps. It's been over 15 minutes since you've left by the next time he looks at the clock. He excuses himself and goes to look for you. He doesn't see you when he looks out of the back door, standing with his hands on his hips, he slowly moves across the backyard, smelling your brand of cigarette smoke. He eventually sees it rising from behind the shed. He smirks to himself, getting out his own pack to join you. You still hid behind the shed to smoke, he was hit with nostalgia and he couldn't help but think about the last time he'd seen you before he left Hawkins.

"Hey." he startles you as you hear him coming around the side of the shed. Jim comes into view, already lighting a cigarette.

"Hey." you flatly reply. He wasn't exactly who you needed to see right now, not when you were feeling so raw. You'd managed to escape one on one conversation with him since he'd helped save Will. You knew you couldn't avoid it forever but you had given it a shot.

"Good to know you still sneak out here to smoke." he says with a grin, exhaling and looking into the woods. You let out a small noise of amusement, shrugging and realizing he was right.

"Good to know you can still find me when I want to be alone." you grin, but look at the ground and move your foot over overgrown grass.

"I can leave if you want. But you've been gone awhile, I had to check on you at least." he shrugs, showing you he wasn't here to bother you.

"You don't have to. I was only partially joking." this time you look at him when you smirk. He'd noticed you leave.

"The past few weeks you've been staying out here for longer and longer." he exhales forcefully, "You wanna tell me why that is?" his eyebrows raise, his voice was inquisitive but not aggressive.

"Of course, I don't," you answer with a huff of a laugh at how difficult you wanted to be for no real reason. "But maybe I need to change that old habit." you mumble, taking in a drag to distract from the pounding in your chest.

"Joyce told me this is the longest you've stayed around before." he adds, motioning with his hands as he talked subtly.

"Yeah, I'd noticed that too." you half answer, keeping your eyes on the line of the forest.

"She’s worried you're going to leave again." his posture mirrors yours, you don't look at each other, your eyes wander.

"She should be," you say quietly, you cross your arms and take a hard inhale. "Don't tell her I said that." you add quickly, looking up at him.

"I won't. Took me too long to earn your trust, why would I break that now?" he nudges you with his elbow, trying to ease your tension.

"Yeah I can't make anything easy." you groan, your head resting on the wall.

"For what it's worth, I think you should stay." his voice drops lower, his hands go to his pockets. "I'm not going to tell you what to do, but, I think you should stay through the holidays. Revisit how you feel after that." he throws his cigarette to the ground, crushing it with his foot. "Joyce would love it if you stayed." he turns his body to face yours, blocking out the light on the telephone pole creating an intimidating silhouette. "And because I've been there before, I know you want to try to make things up to them." his hand rests on your arm, you move your eyes to look at it. "That would be a great place to start." you move your head just slightly to look into his eyes. He pats your arm.

"That's..." you let out a heavy sigh, letting your cigarette die in your fingers. "very good advice," you say with an apathetic shrug. He smiles at you, patting you again as he moves to leave. "I don't want to leave." you say under your breath, a small cry for help. Luckily he hears it. He stands with his hands on his hips, head tilted and patient expression. He knew you didn't share. He also has the natural tendency to be an asshole to people who try to love him, so he feels a deep empathy towards you. Maybe his lingering presence when you were younger hadn't helped you in the way he thought it might. "I get this itch. This pull to leave when things get..." you move your hand to help you express your thoughts. "stable." you nod in agreement with yourself and look up at him. He nods with an indifferent expression of understanding your point. "I get all cagey and feel trapped when I think I'm being, " you use air quotations, "domesticated." you roll your eyes at how immature it all felt to you suddenly. "I know it's stupid but-"

"It's not stupid at all." he says, moving closer to you. His answer catches you off guard, your face softens as his becomes lit by the street lamp as he looms over you. The frown retreats to just your mouth, the ease with which he kept staring into your eyes made you feel small, and that wasn't something you felt often.

"It makes me feel stupid, then." your eyes go a little sad. "It's hard for me to have faith that things will be okay if I stay. I always have this heavy feeling that I'm going to ruin everything for them by just being here, somehow." His chest feels tight as he feels deep, painful empathy for your thoughts, taken off guard by your straightforward admission. Your words were raw but your body language was still reserved. He feels compelled to try to fix this for you but he sees you don't need him to do that anymore. He decides to share a bit of himself with you instead, returning the vulnerability he wanted to encourage from you.

"Like you're cursed or somethin'." he says quietly, looking over your shoulder into the driveway, nodding, his tongue working over his teeth behind his lips.

"Yeah, exactly," you say, your brow furrowing as your lips part slightly with surprise, forgetting to appear hardened for a moment.

"Trust me, I understand." he looks back down at you, his lips tight.

"Maybe you do," you respond, giving him a half smile. You let out one more sigh, trying to start shedding your old habits. "I'll stay." you whisper, sucking your bottom lip into your mouth. Your chest feels tight, you stand and let out a loud exhale before turning towards the back door. He's surprised by the strong wave of relief he feels at your words.

"I think you're making the right decision." he responds with subtle enthusiasm at the news.

"I hope so." you say, turning your head back to him for a moment before heading back into the house. You felt like it might be time to start trying to face the things you'd been running from all these years.

As he followed you back into the house, he realized that he'd asked you to stay for Joyce, but it wasn't just her that wanted you to stay anymore. ========================================================= You sat in a chair up against the wall of the Hawkin's Police Station. Your hands are cuffed behind you, you're injuries are left to dry in the stale air of the room. They'd left you handcuffed to a chair but left the cell open. They're lucky you didn't have any intentions of escaping. You are lost in thought and staring at the ceiling, wondering how long you're going to have to wait here tonight.

He stomps down the hall, putting his hand on the doorframe as he sees you sitting in the cell. He stops and takes a deep breath before approaching you. Your shirt is distractingly disheveled. Your chest pushed out from your hands still in cuffs behind your back, your head bent back, resting on the wall behind you. Your legs crossed at the knee, your face rested in an attractive pose, your annoyance visible just under the surface.

"Jesus, Ann, a bar fight? Really?" he stands in front of you shaking his head. You move your eyes to him, leaving your head against the wall, your mouth pressed together.

"I'm not happy about this either, Jim." you grumble out, your face straight.

He throws a folder on the bed in the small space. He holds your jaw to look at your injuries. "Who put you back here? They shouldn't have let you sit here like this." He sighs and uncuffs you, you smell his brand of cigarettes on him as he leans on your shoulder to unlock your wrists. As your arms are freed, you groan at the feeling coming back to your muscles. "Stay here. I've gotta get the first aid kit." he's mumbling to himself, cursing under his breath.

Here he was taking care of you again. You didn't have the same fondness for the gesture as you did when you were younger. You run your fingers through your hair and find that the small cut on your head has bled out of proportion to the injury. You could feel your swollen lip, you were sure there were other bruises forming at this point. You probably looked bad ass, you thought. You wish that you'd given off that vibe enough earlier in the evening.

He's relieved to see you haven't run away this time, he kneels in front of you and set the box on the bed. You wish you could say this was the first time Hopper had patched you up after a fight. He was such a boy scout.

"Tell me what happened." he says, being attentive to the cut on your head, not looking into your eyes.

"I got in a fight. Obviously." you say with an attitude. He pushes the cotton ball with peroxide on it roughly to your skin. "Ow. That's a bit passive aggressive even for you, Jim." you smirk.

"Stop being a smart ass and tell me what happened." he scolds, going back to being gentle with you, holding your face still with his other hand. "You pickin' fights again now? You're a grown woman, what's wrong with you?" he's mad at you and you don't entirely understand why. You had the strange pang of guilt from his words.  You felt insulted and you weren't used to words hurting your feelings. Why did you feel so sensitive and emotional lately? You'd made lots of changes you liked, but this one you weren’t a fan of.

"I'd like it if you didn't talk to me like that." you mumble, you move your lips to frown but hiss as it stings more than you expect. "You don't even know why I got in a fight." you say defensively.

"That's why I'm asking, Ann. Stop being so difficult. C'mere" he moves your head again to start wiping away your mess of makeup and get to your surface wounds.

"They were talking shit about you and Joyce." you mumble as his hand obscures your speech by pressing on your cheeks.

"Half of my job is people talking shit about me. There are no fights you should ever get into on my behalf," he instructs, his voice less angry. He reaches to throw the used cotton balls in the small wastebasket outside the cell. He sighs and rests his hand on your leg. "Joyce doesn't need you fighting her fights either. As someone who has gotten into too many fights on her behalf, "He exhales hard and shakes his head, "Just don't do it, kid. It never ends well when she finds out." You nod and look at the floor.

"If I can't beat up someone for calling you a lazy sonofabitch who's bad at his job, AND if I can't beat anyone up for calling my sister a crazy bitch..." You take a deep breath and look at the cuts on your hands as he touches them. "Then can I beat them up for shoving me?" you ask, your voice going lower, you're hit with just how tired you are.

"Well, they shouldn't have touched you." he says obviously. "Or did you shove first?" he smirks and keeps attending to your wounds as you speak.

"I didn't hit him first." you say in an annoyed whisper of an explanation. "I didn't hit him until he had to call me fat." you let out a noise of frustration. "So fuckin' stupid." you shake your head back and forth, being embarrassed that that specifically was what had pushed you over the edge.

"Wait." he holds both of your hands in his and looks into your eyes. "You beat up a GUY?" he asks, surprised.

"Yeah," you say holding your palms up to show it wasn't a big deal to you.

"What the hell, Annie?" he's holding your face. You stiffen at his voice saying the name.

"Please don't call me that." you barely whisper, your voice giving away how tired you were. He overlooks your words.

"A guy beats you up and they bring YOU in?" he lets out a huff of a laugh. "How the hell does THAT happen?"

"I was the one on top when the cops showed up." you chuckle nervously. "I think they took him to the hospital." you mumble.

His laugh catches you off guard before he stops suddenly and grabs your knee again. "Wait, a grown man called you FAT?" his shoulders shakes as he laughs, looking at you with a confused face for a moment. "What kind of bullshit, playground insult is that?" he says rolling his eyes.

"Yeah. Assholes always do after you turn them down." you roll your eyes at the thought. "Nothing new, don't know why it was the straw that broke me." you shake your head.

"You're not even fat." he says with amusement in his voice.

"It's a lame insult." you let out a small huff of a laugh at his attempt at a compliment. "But little boys get intimated by the curves, so their lizard brains put together an insult about the body they were just trying to get into 5 minutes earlier. Idiots." you let out an exasperated sigh. You change the subject, you weren't fishing for compliments from the Chief of Police. "Was I warranted for hitting him for calling me WHORE-owitz then?" you shrug your shoulders moving as you spoke. "Or for threatening me with a broken beer bottle when he hit the floor after I punched him?" you scrunch your nose as Jim rolls his eyes up to, giving you a scolding look. "ANY of that worth me defending myself, Chief?" your face is flushed with frustration at the memories.

"Now it's hard to know if I'm mad or proud." he finally smiles at you. He finishes wrapping your hands and gently runs his fingers over your knuckles. "As the Chief, I'm mad as hell." he furrows his brow at you, leaning in closer to you. "But as Jim..." he grins, "I'd have paid to see that." You can't help but lift at least one of the corners of your mouth up at his response. "I'm glad you beat him up so I didn't have to." he smiles softly again, working on the last injury, the busted lip. "Can't have guys hitting on one of my favorite girls, now can I?"

"Shut up, Hop." you laugh, your chest bouncing with it. "And I'm not sure if the word usage of "hitting on" was the best choice." you smirk.

"Yeah, you really are bad at compliments aren't you?" he holds in a laugh, his belly moving under his uniform. Your shoulders slump slightly because he's right. You could've just said thanks. You stay quiet as he works on your swollen lower lip. It stings as he cleans it and you squeeze your eyes shut for a second. "I know, I know. Sorry." he says softly, his fingers and eyes moving quickly around your face. The shift to tenderness catches you off guard. You melt into his hands a little too much when he holds the sides of your face to look you over one last time. You fight back the sigh that wants to escape your body.

"I've got a few more questions and then I'm gonna let you go." he says, putting away the first aid kit. He brings you a soda and sits across from you in the cell.

"Fine." you reply. "Interrogate me, Chief." you let out a noise that might've been classified as a giggle.

"When I pulled up your records I didn't expect there to be so much in here, honestly." he smirks, looking in the file.

"Oh great, I love answering questions about terrible memories I want to forget." you laugh out loud, wincing as you hold your ribs.

"You don't have to talk about anything you don't want to." he answers in an obvious tone.

"What do you wanna know, Chief?" you ask, leaning back in the chair, your legs spread out.

"I didn't know you were so active in the Vietnam protests, for starters," he asks, his voice even and genuinely interested. "I didn't know you were involved in any of that." the surprise is evident in his voice.

"I..." you sigh and look away from him, you'd give him most of the story, he didn't need to know everything. "I felt strongly about it. It took too many good people from me. I couldn't sit and do nothing." you explain, meeting his gaze again. You'd given him the answer he wanted, not the complete real one but, close enough.

"Then you went to New York?" he asks, looking at the paper in front of him. He laughs and looks over at you, the corners of his eyes crinkling. "We were in New York at the same time." he seems thoroughly amused by this fact.

"Yeah I kept getting arrested and told them to send you but apparently cops don't work like pizza guys." you snort out a laugh and sit back up, your elbows on your knees.

"Good one," he nods and you humbly accept his compliment this time. "You didn't get arrested in the right places." he smirks at you. "Good at keeping those thefts under the felony charge, though." You let out a loud laugh that catches him off guard. You run your hand through your hair, a charming smile moving across your face as you swing your eyes back around to him. He can smell your perfume as you fluff your hair. He thought about how soft your face looked when you laughed. He became unexpectedly flustered when you locked eyes with him and leaned in closer suddenly.

"I got better at getting out of trouble the older I got, believe it or not." you flash all your teeth in an easy going expression.

"You must have, the charges just stop after that." he narrows his eyes at you. "Life of crime prove too hard for you?" he smirks again, your face falls slightly and he worries he's insulted you accidentally.

"Something like that yeah." you scrunch your nose. Once again deciding how much information to divulge to him. Not that you didn't trust him, you were just battle-worn with worry about people using things against you. "I, uh..." you heavily sigh and see no reason to hold this back. From what you'd heard about him, he might just understand. You take a chance on him and put yourself out there. "I was in a bad place." you say with a nod. "Someone close to me died. I moved on to drugs, things got dark for little while there." you chew your cheek in thought. "The charges stop because I left New York and got sober." you hesitate to look back up at him. You didn't need junkie added to the hurtful things you heard hurled at you tonight.

"I shouldn’t have said that, sorry." his eyes are apologetic and it both hurts and feels good to see it in his eyes for you.

You shrug it off. "You've never purposely hurt my feelings before so I didn't expect you to start now." you mumble, taking another drink of soda.

"I'm glad you realize that at least." he gives you a supportive smile, reaching out to rub your knee again.

"You don’t have to look at me like I’m broken now. It was a long time ago." you cross your arms.

"I'm not. I just empathize is all." he shakes his head at you. "I've had problems dealing with people close to me leaving too." his lips are tight. You knew about his daughter and his ex-wife, Joyce had told you what she knew. You were familiar with the look of someone who had such heavy baggage they have to self-medicate to deal with life going on. You felt oddly connected to him, knowing that he understood.

"Thanks." you say roughly. You were trying, you really were. You notice how big his hand is as it squeezes your large thigh. You gulp at the touch, knowing he didn't mean anything by it, but being affected by it nonetheless. You needed to get away from him. Enough bonding over feelings between you both for one night.

Chapter 3

@whatmakesmebeme-tblr @sleepylunarwolfh @elevenofmages@alahmorah @norcula @undiscl0sed-desir3s@atari-writes@jobean12-blog @missharleenquinzel-blog​ @kiwiphroot@ashphoenix105 @ambeazyyy @riotguuuurl​ @warriorqueen1991​ @misbehaving-f0r-days @divadinag​ @wefracturedmotivation@flamehairedwritings @earinafae​ @beltzboys2015-blog@gettinjoyful @lucifer-in-leather@nerdysuperchick @kathrinebutterlover​ @dragongirl420​ @fangirlinginspace@xxdragonagequeenxx  @the-bitch-gotham-deserves​ @hopperholland​ @lil-tea-cup​ @darthnerd25@davidkharbours @mrslydiaholden @tit-punch02@thedaydreamerrrrr @yedi16 @jess2464 @scrunchinn@thatisthemagic @maddieisaboredable @bloom005-blog @mcxmarti 

[darveyfics]

Harvey and Donna stuck in the elevator

“Trapped”

A/N: This may have been my favorite one to write so far. Enjoy!

Dammit. He’s officially running late for his next meeting… again. Harvey mentally curses himself as he jogs his way out of his office at seven fifteen that night. He’s been too damn preoccupied thinking about her. So much so that he spent the better part of his day reminiscing in his office like a school boy, staring at the physical wall that separated their offices, much like the metaphorical one that currently held them at arms length.

It didn’t help that he still had to see her everyday, while she looked like that, strutting around the law firm in four inch stilettos and dresses too tight to be considered legal in a law firm, or anywhere for that matter.

When he noticed the sky darkening behind him, he was finally shaken out of his thoughts, scrambling to get up and leave for his meeting.

“Hold the elevator!” He yells at the closing metal doors as he jogged the rest of the way. “Hold the-” A hand reached out suddenly, preventing the elevator doors from closing.

“Thank you.” Harvey breathes out, once he made his way inside, head down as he tried to fix his tie in some faux semblance of normalcy.

“You’re welcome.” Came an even voice.

His head shot up.

“Donna.”

Standing right beside him inside the elevator was none other than the redhead currently occupying his every thoughts and emotions. The same woman he had cowardly tried to avoid for the better part of the past week. Clad in a tight fitting tan dress and matching Jimmy Choos, she was a vision, and was currently standing closer to him now than she had since…

“What are you doing here?” His question was met by a slow turn of the head, copper hair flowing behind her, eyebrows quirking up in confusion… or annoyance.

“I don’t mean what are you doing here as in- in here- with me, but here as in- you usually leave work later.” Harvey finished lamely, chastising himself for the word vomit he just spewed.

“I have plans.” Her reply was short, vague, almost emotionless, he thought as he watched her turn her attention back to the metal doors in front of them, eyeing the numbers slowly declining.

Harvey felt himself swallow against the possible meaning behind her words. Plans? Does she have a date? The temperature around them suddenly felt like it rose twenty degrees. He fixes his tie, trying to loosen it as he felt the air in his lungs constricting. He checks to see the floor they were on before checking his watch.

Floor 20. 7:19pm.

Sighing, he cast a side long glance at the woman next to him. Her posture was straight, face stoic, but he couldn’t quite get a read on her. You never really could, not like she could read you, a voice told him.

“Your staring is creeping me out, you know.” Donna says softly, only a slight humor in her voice.

“I wasn’t-” Suddenly, the floor beneath them jolted and the lights flickered. He felt himself being jostled, but before he could hold onto the nearest wall, he noticed Donna stumbling and before he could even think twice about it, he reacted. It was instinct, protectiveness, he told himself as he grabbed hold of her, making sure she didn’t fall, except-

“Harvey what the hell??” Her shriek of surprise came as she felt herself slipping, hands clawing onto Harvey’s arms as they both came tumbling down.

The elevator stopped.

Silence overtook them, the only sounds were that of their ragged breaths, eyes slowly adjusting to the now dimly lit elevator.

“Are you okay?” Harvey finally asks, hands still holding onto her. She was currently half sitting on top of him, long bare legs across his lap and their faces a mere inches apart.

“I-” Her voice was shaken, heart still rapidly beating against her chest.

“Donna, are you ok?” Came his voice again, concern dripping from his words.

In the poor light, her eyes barely made out his features, but she still nodded. “I’m fine. I’m just-” Her senses were slowly coming back to her and she suddenly found his hands on her to be scalding against her skin. “I’m fine.” She scrambled to get off of him, only reluctantly accepting his help as she got to her feet again, him in tow.

Reality set in as they found themselves in the tiny dark elevator. Alone.

They were stuck.

“Shit.” Harvey mumbles, eyes darting over the small room, trying to find anything that could possibly lead them out. “Shit!” His open palm came up to slap the cold hard metal door in front of them, making Donna jump.

“Harvey!” Her voice startles him, eyes wide staring into his own. “I don’t think that’s going to help.” She humorlessly laughed, voice trying to mask any kind of panic.

“This cannot be happening, not tonight.” He grits his teeth, fingers now reaching over the control center of the elevator, frantically pushing the emergency and ‘open’ buttons. But nothing happened.

“Shit!” His foot collided with the elevator doors next, ignoring the pain that shot through his leg.

“Harvey! Calm. Down.” Donna spoke with annoyance and impatience.

“I can’t calm down, Donna, we’re stuck in this goddamn elevator and I have a meeting to get to in-” He looks down at his watch. “Right now.” He let out a laugh.

“Harvey, I don’t think worrying about that meeting should be your first priority right now.” He didn’t need the lights to be fully on to know she was sending him daggers with her eyes.

“Donna, I can’t miss this meeting, do you understand? If we lose this client- if we lose-” He shakes his head, annoyed at the situation, annoyed at himself for getting so damn wrapped up in himself and her that he hadn’t even noticed the time of day and now they’re here, stuck, and he doesn’t even miss the irony of the situation- being physically and otherwise stuck with her, in a situation he only blames himself for.

“It’ll be okay, Harvey.” She tries for a gentle approach now, trying to coax him into a calmer mindset.

He only shakes his head.

“If it makes you feel any better, you’re not the only one who’s plans were ruined tonight.” She mumbles in annoyance.

Harvey scoffs. “For what? Your date?” He spits out the word in mild disgust. “I’m sorry, but this meeting is a little bit more important than your nightly ventures, Donna.”

She stares at him, eyes turned thin as she glares at him in the dark. “First of all, I never said I had a date, second of all, it’s none of your goddamn business where I was going tonight, and lastly, why the hell would you even care?” Her voice is all void of the cool and collected tone she was going for earlier, replaced by disdain and anger.

“I don’t.” He shrugs.

“Bullshit.” She fires back.

“What did you just say?” He turns to her, stepping only slightly closer to see her better in the low light.

“Bullshit you don’t care, you’re just too damn proud to admit that to yourself.”

“You know what, Donna? I don’t need this right now. I need to find a way to get the hell out of here before we potentially lose our biggest client yet.”

Donna lets out a humorless laugh. “You know, what? Maybe you don’t care. Maybe you never did. My mistake for believing you ever did.” She finishes quietly, resigning herself to the corner of the elevator now, arms crossed, holding herself close, protectively.

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” He asks her after about a beat of silence.

“Nothing.” She tells him, voice low.

“Donna…”

He only receives silence in return, and he sighs into the room. Suddenly, a thought enters his mind.

“Shit.” His hand dives into his pocket, fishing out his phone, cursing himself for only now realizing he should try and use it to call for help.

“What are you doing?” He hears Donna’s voice interject his thoughts as he looks through his contacts.

“Trying to get us the hell out of here.” He says, finger pressing onto Mike’s name harder than needed. His foot taps impatiently on the floor, shifting from foot to foot with each ring until-

“Harvey? Did you see McGregor alread-”

“Mike!” Harvey’s voice cuts through his words. “Mike, can you hear me?” Harvey starts walking in small circles inside the elevator, as if that would speed up the process any more.

“Uh, yeah, Harvey what-”

“Mike, listen, we’re tr-“

“What? Harvey you’re breaking up, where are you?”

“Donna and I are stuck in the elevator!” He practically yells out the words into his phone.

“You and Donna are what?”

Harvey sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration. “We’re trapped in the elevator.”

“You and Donna are finally together? Am I hearing this correctly?”

Harvey mentally curses at the young lawyer’s change in tone, amusement dripping from his words.

“Mike.” He grits his teeth, trying to hold onto any last ounce of patience he has left. “We’re stuck-”

Suddenly the only noise coming from his phone is nothing but static and the line goes dead.

“Dammit!” Harvey curses, kicking the elevator doors one more time.

“So is he on his way?” Donna’s sarcastic voice cuts through his thoughts.

His head shoots up at her, head tilting in annoyance. “Are you enjoying this by any chance?”

“At what? Seeing you completely losing your shit? Yeah, a little bit.” She jokes.

Harvey shakes his head, annoyance and frustration seeping into bones. He couldn’t believe his damn luck today, and every other day for the past week and a half, he thinks. He looks over at Donna in the corner, her eyes now on anywhere but him and his he feels his heart sinking. It’s been ten days since she sauntered over to him, kissing him before he had enough time to process what she was doing. Ten days since he realized that maybe her more was meant for him, for them. Ten days since his world was turned upside down all thanks to Donna Paulsen.

He remembers how he stood there after she kissed him, like a complete moron. Completely incapable of making his legs work, body numb and lips tingling from her kiss. By the time he could feel his legs again, he found himself out on the terrace, looking up at the sky and the city, trying to find the answers in the view before him.

“Harvey.” Her voice had taken him out of thoughts, swiveling around to face her.

“What the hell did you do that for?” His words were short as anger coursed through him, confusion following closely.

“Why-?”

“Why the hell did you kiss me, Donna?”

“I told you, I had to know.” Her voice was soft in the night, hands resting on her sides.

“I’m with Paula.” Came his reply, frustration seeping through him.

She narrowed her eyes at him. “Why the hell didn’t you stop me, then?”

Her words cut through him like a knife, a piercing sensation right in his heart suddenly making it difficult for him to breathe.

“I kissed you because I had to know I felt about you, okay, Harvey?”

“And how do you feel?” He asked her, voice still laced with impatience.

“If you don’t know by now, you don’t me at all.”

He remembered how they continued to argue after that, though it was mostly a blur, safe for a few words that were exchanged.

“I can’t do this, Donna. I have to- now I have to tell Paula- and I- you-” His words were stumbling out of his mouth, mind going a mile a minute, competing with the rate of his heart.

“I’m sorry.” She had echoed her words from earlier. I’m sorry I kissed you while you had a girlfriend, were her unspoken thoughts.

“Well, it’s too damn late now.”

She had walked away after that, not before sending him one last glance, telling him he had to figure out whatever the hell it was he wanted.

The days that followed were long and grueling. He almost dreaded going to work everyday, knowing he had to see her. They had argued a couple more times after that, anger becoming more common, words becoming more hurtful. He had blamed her for his breakup with Paula and the surprise on her face when he had told her failed to let him know if she was surprised he blamed her for it, or because they broke up at all.

After that, they didn’t speak anymore, only if they had to for the sake of the firm and a case they had, and even then their usual banter was replaced by short-tempered comments.

Now, here they were stuck together. Again. Except they were barely three feet apart, and his heart was aching over the fact that so much had changed between them, even before the kiss. Something had shifted and he didn’t know what it was, at least that’s what he kept telling himself. All he knew was that he was losing his best friend, if he hadn’t already lost her.

“They should have us out of here, soon.” Her soft voice shook him out of his thoughts once again.

Harvey sighed. “How do you figure?”

Donna shrugged. “Someone will find out soon enough.” He watched her as she suddenly bent down, hands reaching to take off her tan heels, a sigh escaping her lips when they were both completely off. When she stood, she found him looking at her, noticing how his eyes shifted away just as quickly.

Silence filled the small room once again, the air filling with more tension by the second.

She cleared her throat. “I was going to see a play.”

“What?” His eyes met hers in the dark.

“Tonight- my plans- I was going to see a play.” She smiles despite herself, the emotion not quite reaching her eyes. She didn’t know why she was telling him, she hadn’t planned on doing so, not after his earlier remarks that had hit a nerve within her. But she just couldn’t take the silence and they were both going to be trapped in there for God knows how long, and frankly, she could never stay quiet for too long.

“Alone?” Came his reply.

She scoffed. “Here we go again.”

“What? I can’t know?” Harvey asks.

Donna shakes her head, a humorless chuckle leaving her lips. “Why are you so bent over if I’m going alone or if I have a date?”

“Fine, don’t tell me. I’m just trying to make conversation here.” He rolls his eyes, looking away from her.

“You’re unbelievable.” She says under her breath.

“Do you have something you want to say to me?” His voice is all bite as anger and frustration pulls at him from every end.

“I already did!” She hollers at him. She sees the surprised look on his face and lets herself laugh again, knowing she would just end up crying otherwise.

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“You can’t be that dense, Harvey.” She fires back at him, low voice but filled with disdain.

“What? Are you talking about the kiss?”

“Yes, Harvey, our kiss.” Her hands are crossed as she steps closer to him. “I kissed you, I let you know how I felt, where I stood with us, and once again, you missed the goddamn signal.” Her eyes are slits as she glares at him, willing herself not to cry as the emotions begin to overtake her.

“I had a girlfriend, Donna, what the hell did you want me to say? What did you expect me to do? How to react?”

“You broke up with her.” She tells him pointedly.

“Yeah, because I cheated on her. Because you kissed me.” He fires back at her.

“Then why the hell did you kiss me back?” Her voice is about ten octaves louder, he thinks, the small room echoing with her words.

He opens his mouth to speak, but words don’t come. His eyes are glued to hers and he barely misses a loan tear that trails down her left cheek.

“If you don’t feel anything for me, if you don’t-” She stops herself before she can say if you don’t love me, because those words are too much for her right now. “If you don’t feel a damn thing about me, Harvey, if you don’t feel that way about me just say it.” Her words are softer now, almost defeated and he thinks he can physically feel his heart cracking open.

“Tell me.” She pleads, voice lower still when he doesn’t respond.

“I- I can’t, okay? I can’t tell you that.” His voice cracks as his shout turns into a whisper, eyes wide at his own words.

The air thickens as his words wash over her, face crumpled in confusion and wonder, with only an ounce of hope she tries to tamper down as much as possible.

“What?” She whispers.

“I can’t tell you I don’t feel anything.” He tells her, words rolling off his tongue easier now, almost like a weight had been lifted off his shoulders.

“Then why-” Her voice trails, words caught in her throat.

“Because I didn’t want to lose you!” She doesn’t think she’s ever heard him sound so scared before. Not when Mike was arrested. Not when the firm was facing law suits left and right.

“Harvey-”

“I spent the last twelve years convincing myself that we weren’t ever- we weren’t going to be anything more than colleagues, more than friends.” She stays silent, eyes studying him as he speaks. “I accepted that all we were ever going to have was the other time.” Her heart skips when she hears him utter those words. “Because you had that rule, and I knew that I would rather have you by my side everyday of my life, didn’t want to think about what kind of lawyer I could be without you. And everything was working out.” He sighs, trying to catch his breath in the midst of his confession. “But then you left me for Louis, and then you said you wanted more and I was so scared because I didn’t know what you meant, or what you wanted, and I knew you couldn’t mean me, not that way, because you had that rule.”

“So it’s my fault?” She finds herself saying, voice low between them.

He shakes his head. “No, it was my own damn fault. Because I was too busy worrying about what kind of lawyer I’d be without you instead of worrying about what kind of man I would be without you in my life.”

“Harvey-”

“I love you.” His words hit her like a freight train and she knows that he loves, he’s told her, but it’s different now.

She almost jumps when she feels his hands on her arms, his touch lighting her skin on fire. Her eyes shift to his lips on reflex, swallowing as she sees his tongue sweep out momentarily.

“When you kissed me, I didn’t know what to do.” He admits softly. “I was- overwhelmed and confused because for too damn long I didn’t think you ever saw me for anything more than a friend and I just- I got angry at myself, at the situation, because I did miss your signal before, because part of me didn’t want to see it in case it wasn’t what I hoped- what I wanted it to be.” He sees the tears trailing down her eyes, bringing up a hand to wipe at them gently. “I was so angry with myself that I got angry at you and I blamed you for kissing me while I was-” With Paula. The words are left unspoken, but he knows she knows what he means. “But truth is, I was angry at myself because I enjoyed it. I kissed you back because I wanted to, because finally, you were here, telling me what you wanted, how you felt and I felt guilty.” Donna nods, understanding his emotions.

She feels him stepping closer, and she holds her breath. A sigh escapes his lips when his forehead meets hers, closing his eyes in the process. “I’m so sorry.” He whispers. She tries to fight back the tears. “I’m sorry for yelling, for treating you how I did- I’m-”

He feels her finger on his lips now, silently shushing his words.

“I know. It’s-”

Harvey shakes his head, interrupting her. “No, no it’s not okay. I never should’ve treated you that way. There’s no excuse for that.” His eyes meet hers again, his own welling up with unshed tears.

Donna smiles softly at him. “I was going to say if you let me finish,” She gives him a small teasing smile. “That it wasn’t okay, but it’s okay now.”

“Is it? Are we?” His eyebrows raise unconvinced, worry still written in his tired features.

Donna shrugs, thumb lightly brushing against his lower lip. “You tell me.” She looks up at him now, eyes boring into her own, her heart swelling at the intensity she meets in his gaze. “What do you want?” She asks softly.

“You.” The small smile that curves his lips meets hers instantly, making her squeal in surprise. It takes her a few short seconds for the fog in her mind to subside, reality setting in as she feels his tongue against her lips. Her arms wind around him, bringing him closer to her as she grants him more access.

His arms feel like home around her, warm and all encompassing as he holds her tighter against him, her lack of heels making her a couple of inches shorter as she tip toes into the kiss, their lips fused between a mix of tongues dancing and teeth biting and pulling. A low moan escapes her lips when he angles his head, pulling her in for an even deeper kiss and she feels him groan in response. Her hands rake over his short hair, goosebumps lining her body as deja vu meets her senses, thinking about how she had done so during their last kiss, now seeming like only decades ago.

Their lungs begin to scream for oxygen and they reluctantly part, noses touching briefly before their lips meet again, gentler this time, just brushing over each other like butterfly kisses, still not being able to fully separate.

She feels his forehead meet hers, mutual sighs escaping them.

“I love you.” He tells her again, and she feels like someone should pinch her because Harvey Specter just told her he loved her twice in less than five minutes and she doesn’t think she can believe in reality right now.

The soft kiss he presses to her temple shakes her out of reverie and she finally finds her voice. “I love you too.” She says automatically.

Their eyes meet and she can’t help the smile that takes over her features, only widening when she sees his own shit-eating grin.

It only takes them a full two seconds before they meet for another kiss, teeth almost clashing as their smiles collide.

Just as she feels his arms snaking lower down her back, her body jolts, feeling the elevator around them come to life again.

Their lips part simultaneously, eyes gazing at each other in surprise before looking around, watching the lights flickering back on completely, and the elevator coming to a holt.

There’s a silence for a short while, their arms still holding onto each other as they stay rooted to the spot, waiting…

Their eyes squint as they watch the metal doors opening suddenly, an array of people on the other side, waiting, looking at them.

Harvey quickly counts at least four men who look like maintenance workers, two paramedics, a couple of random Pearson Specter Litt employees, and Mike.

“Well, hello there, you two.” His voice is all teasing as he looks between them, eyebrows raising in question and a smirk on his lips that makes Harvey want to slap off his face.

Donna finally untangles herself from Harvey’s hold, jumping back as if she were on fire, looking around at the confused, concerned, and amused glances from everyone in the hallway.

She half hears Harvey telling the paramedics they’re both okay before he turns to thank the maintenance workers, her focus on picking up her purse and heels that still lay on the floor of the elevator. She makes her way out, placing her Jimmy Choos right on her feet again.

“So…” Mike begins, arms crossed and lips quirking in amusement.

“Don’t.” Harvey warns the younger man.

“I didn’t say anything.” Mike holds his hands up in defense, trying to hold back a laugh.

“I mean it.” Harvey threatens, his eyes boring into his. He turns around to see Donna slowly making her way next to him.

“So, how did you figure out we were stuck in there?” She chooses to ask instead of feeding whatever amusement Mike was currently experiencing.

The young lawyer sobers up momentarily. “Well, I knew something was wrong, what with Harvey’s- strange phone call. So I asked around to see where you were, I figured you went to see McGregor for the settlement,” He points at Harvey. “But then Gretchen told me she saw you running off into the elevator at around seven fifteen so…”

“You just figured out the rest.” Harvey finishes.

Mike nods, a small smile slowly creeping back into his face. “Wasn’t that difficult.” He shrugs, waiting a beat before adding, “So are you two-” His hand motions between them.

“We’re leaving. Now.” Harvey tells him, glancing to look at Donna, an almost shy and amused smile playing on her lips.

“What? No details?” Mike follows them as they make their way into another elevator.

“Do you have a death wish or?” Harvey asks him, holding the elevator doors as they open, letting Donna in first.

Mike watches as they both get in, smirking when he sees them heading inside, except they weren’t alone this time.

“You two behave in there.” He winks, laughing at the way Harvey rolls his eyes before the doors close between them.

The elevator ride down is quiet, the low hum of the metal contraption the only noise filling their senses. They share quick glances along the way, smiles shy and amused each time their eyes meet.

Minutes later, they hear the distinguishable ding of the elevator arriving at the lobby, mutual sighs of relief leaving their lips.

Harvey’s hand meets the small of her back, guiding her out and into the dark of the night, stopping when they’re on the sidewalk, just off to the side of the large building.

“So…” Donna starts, smile still on her face as she glances up at him.

“Want me to take you home?” He asks softly, letting her decide for them.

She shakes her head, and for a moment feels his heart drop. “Your place is closer.” She muses at him, noticing the visual relief wash over him.

They manage to hail a cab in record time, hands clasped the entire ride to his apartment.

Harvey steps out behind Donna, following her out after paying the driver.

She stands on the sidewalk in front of his place, eyes twinkling in the night as she studies him for a moment. She clears her throat when he reaches her, looking down for a moment before meeting his eyes again.

“I was, by the way,” She starts. “Going alone tonight, to see the play.” She clarifies for him softly.

Harvey nods, smile sad. “I’m sorry I-”

Donna shakes her head, stepping closer and taking hold of his hands. “It’s fine.” She shrugs, not wanting to dwell on the past anymore.

“Still, I was a jealous asshole.” He tells her, his response making her laugh.

“Yeah, well… I’m sorry you missed your meeting tonight.” She tells him, softly.

Harvey just shakes his head, stepping closer until his arms are around her small frame again. “It doesn’t matter.”

“But you could’ve lost-” Donna starts, worry etching her voice, knowing just how important that client was to the firm.

“I could’ve lost worse.” He replies softly, words a whisper against her lips as he gazes down into her hazel eyes, the lights from the street lamps dancing in them.

Her lips widen into a smile, her features softening and heart swelling at his words.

“But you didn’t.” She whispers the words, a sigh escaping as his lips meet hers again.

[slaymefilia]

NaLu Week Day 1 - Nostalgia

Summary: here's my 'Nostalgia' prompt for day 1 of @nalu-week! (Sorry it's so late!) ❤ Pairing: NaLu (Natsu & Lucy) Word Count: 1330 There was a silence; something rather unusual for the pair. It's as if they never stopped speaking, whether it be concerning a mission, her scolding him for being hungry, or just casual jokes. Despite the unfamiliarity of the silence, it wasn't uncomfortable. In fact it was far from it. The silence was peaceful and calming. The partners hadn't experienced any form of tranquillity for such a long time; it was almost painful. But now, the war was over. It was over after those painstaking weeks - maybe even months - of fighting. It was all over. There were still scars, everybody knew that, and perhaps some may not heal. Nevertheless the guild and the entirety of Fiore bounded together for both their lives and their futures. Natsu and Lucy were covered in scars. Though they may not all be visible, the duo both knew they were there. They almost lost one another so many times during that war, and that wasn't even the half of it. But despite it all they stayed together. They would never let the other down and because of their bravery and the passion they shared for one another, the war was over. At this moment, Natsu and Lucy were completely relaxed in one another's arms, something they hadn't been able to experience for a long time. The pair were at Natsu's house, cuddled up in his hammock. Lucy sat between the dragon slayer's legs, her back pressed up against his chest as Natsu's chin rested on top of Lucy's head. The hammock swayed gently as the couple sat in silence, the only sounds emitting from their calming breaths. "Does that really have something from all our missions on there?" Lucy's soft voice broke the silence, her gaze fixed on Natsu's wall decorated with trinkets from the jobs he and Lucy had been on. Lucy had come across the wall before, but had never had the chance to ask Natsu about it. Natsu nodded. "Yep. Every single job." Lucy's eyes locked on one specific piece of paper. "You even have that fake salamander's autograph?" "Of course I do. I wouldn't throw away something from when we first met." -------- "Igneel!" Natsu called out, fighting through a crowd of squealing girls. "Jeez, why are these chicks so excited about my dad bein' in town?" he murmured to himself. Finally finding his way to the middle, Natsu collapsed to the ground with a thud. His wide eyes gazed up, awaiting to see his long lost father. Instead, he was met with a man wearing a dark cape with a yellow outline. His hair was an azure blue, mostly laying flat, and a strange "x" tattoo resided above his eyebrow. "Who the hell are you?" Natsu questioned aloud, earning a few yells of astonishment from the nearby girls. Quickly discovering this was not the man he was searching for, Natsu took his leave, but not before receiving a beat down from the angered girls and a dodgy autograph from the so called "salamander". "I guess it wasn't Igneel after all..." Happy muttered sadly. Natsu nodded in agreement, trying to shadow his disappointment. "Man, that guy was a creep." The dragon slayer's ears twitched at the sound of an unfamiliar voice. He span around to see a girl standing in front of him. She appeared to be around the same age, sporting a white zip up shirt with light blue trim and a matching blue skirt. her hair was a golden blonde and her eyes a chocolate brown. Glistening on her hip were a set of keys, though Natsu did not know whether they served any purpose. "Thanks for you help!" the girl spoke again, smiling down at him. Sooner or later the blonde insisted on buying Natsu and Happy lunch for saving her. Apparently according to her the guy from before had tried putting a charm spell on her, but Natsu broke her out of it. "My name's Lucy. It's nice to meet you!" the girl, which Natsu and Happy now knew as Lucy, spoke. As the day progressed, Natsu and Lucy went their separate ways, but somehow managed to meet once again on the fake salamander's boat. Natsu and Happy quickly saved Lucy from harms way, which of course resulted in Natsu going completely overboard and destroying the entire harbour. "Wow, that was amazing." Lucy stood beside Happy in awe. "But he overdid it!" Soon enough the sounds of many footsteps emerged, getting closer and closer until Lucy span around. "The army!?" she exclaimed. In a instant, Natsu had grabbed Lucy's hand, dragging her away. "Crap, we gotta get outta here!" Natsu yelled, running as fast as he could. "Wait, where are you taking me!?" Lucy panicked, though not strong enough to break away from Natsu's grip. "Just come on! You said you wanted to join the Fairy Tail guild, didn't you?" At that moment, Lucy froze. Her eyes widened as her gaze moved from her hand to Natsu's face. Everything seemed to go in slow motion for a few seconds. Natsu looked down at her, his signature toothy grin playing at his lips as he spoke. "So let's go!" Lucy's cheeks tinted pink, her smile widening. "Alright!" Lucy exclaimed, running after Natsu and Happy. -------- "Man, that seems like years ago." Natsu murmured. "That's because it was, Natsu." Lucy giggled. "You know what I mean," Natsu smiled slightly. "But I can still remember it like it was yesterday." Lucy nodded in agreement, snuggling closer to Natsu's chest. Thinking back to that day in Hargeon caused a smile to play at Lucy's lips, and before she could help it she let out a small laugh. "What's so funny?" Natsu cocked his head to the side so he could see Lucy's amused face. "It's just... who would have thought that I'd end up falling for the weirdo fire wizard I happened to stumble upon in a small town? You were loud, rambunctious, absent-minded and your motion sickness drove me insane. But at the same time, you were sweet, caring and always looked out for me. Thank you." "You don't have to thank me, Luce." Natsu let out a breathy laugh. "No, I do, Natsu." Lucy span around so she was properly facing Natsu, though her legs were wrapped around his waist. "Before I met you and the rest of the guild I was completely alone in this world. I had no friends, no family, no home. Then I met you and Happy and you both turned my entire world upside down. You changed my life in more ways than I can count and I will forever be grateful for that. A simple "thank you" doesn't even begin to describe the gratitude I have for you." Natsu looked fairly stunned at first, not expecting such an outburst from his partner. But after taking it all in he smiled softly and leaned in closer. "Your life wasn't the only one that was changed that day, you know." Natsu said quietly, his breath warm on Lucy's face. "I owe you a thank you as well. So, thank you, Lucy." Lucy began to lean in closer too, until their lips delicately brushed along each other. The kiss was so faint, but it meant the world to the pair of them. Before they could continue, however, a familiar snickering was audible from the now open doorway. Natsu and Lucy's eyes hovered over to reveal Happy with his paws covering his mouth, grinning devilishly. "They're in loooove~!" Happy said his usual shtick, giggling the whole time. Lucy, usually taken aback by Happy's profound saying, furrowed her eyebrows and smiled slightly. "Happy," she spoke, "you do realise you can't say that anymore when its true?" Natsu nodded, agreeing. Happy stood there for a moment, his paws slowly leaving his mouth and resting by his side. His wide grin soon fell as he realised Lucy was right. "You're right..." Happy murmured. "Aw, man! Who am I supposed to tease now?!"

[monstrousthingsrp]

Welcome to Monstrous Things, Rain!

“Thirteen-year-old Lavender Brown arrived unannounced at The Caravan on a cold and rainy night in mid September with no explanation of how they had found the well hidden caravan other than ‘Keep to the left, it said! That’s the last time I take directions from Vogue.’”

We are overjoyed to accept your application for Lavender Brown! The “different light” you plan to bring to them delights us both very much, and we likewise can’t wait to see where you’re planning on taking this once-familiar character. We look forward to sharing many exciting plots and predictions with you, and are honored to be the ones to welcome you back to roleplaying!

OOC Details:

Name: Rain

Pronouns: She/Her

Activity Level: I believe I should have no trouble meeting the expectations of this RP. I’ve been roleplaying in the high lit tumblr RP scene for many years and enjoy the depth of character you can find with para replies. I anticipate at least one reply a night most nights, and multiple replies on a good night.

General IC Details:

Name: Lavender Brown, to almost everyone. Lala, to those in the caravan. Nox, to those she teases.

Age: Twenty-Five    Born: October 16th, 1980    Tarot Drawn: The Star & Strength

  Drawing The Star is an indication of new beginnings, a fresh start if you will. While Strength brings self control and the power of love. Combined, this birth pair makes a formidable couple for the person for whom they are drawn. The Star becomes a wish, filled with positive energy, and an indication of growth and moving away from negative influences. Combined with strength this duo brings positive movement forward with the self control and focus to make things work.

Gender/Pronouns: They/Them

  “Oh Lavender can’t you sit like a lady?”, “Lavender this is a special occasion, don’t you have a dress you can put on like a good little girl?”, these and many other easily dismissed statements followed Lavender through their early years, and yet it always sent a quiver of confusion through their heart. Lady, girl, daughter, the words felt as though they slid from Lavender’s shoulders like melting ice on a warming tin roof, they had no weight in Lavender’s soul.

   Caravan life introduce Lavender to the rainbow of gender nonconformity, from there it was a natural transition into neutral pronouns, specifically they/them. Non-binary, or enby, is where Lavender finally settled in regards to gender. But what was a non-issue in the caravan has proven a more difficult to claim so openly in the bustle of London; a place, it seemed, where you could be anyone but queer. Those closest to Lavender respect their pronouns, but every passing day it seems more a struggle to remind casual acquaintances of this simple request.

Desired Changes: As mentioned above I plan to write Lavender with they/them pronouns.

Please describe the character’s education experience:

   A half-blood is not such a bad thing to be amongst registered wix these days; at least one of your parents tried to give you the chance at a better life. Sadly Lavender did not benefit from their Muggle mother’s blood. At the age of eleven they were marked wix and sent off to The Royal Academy of Unnatural Education.

   Overall, The Royal Academy was not a terrible experience, and Lavender could have easily lived out the full seven years of their education at the institution if it weren’t for all the books. Two years into their education and It seemed every page of their text books were screaming out rude words of warning. From headlines of doom, to orders to report to a wandering band of wix, Lavender came to know, without a shadow of a doubt, that their absence at this crucial time would have long term consequences. Easy would never be an option.

   Thirteen-year-old Lavender Brown arrived unannounced at The Caravan on a cold and rainy night in mid September with no explanation of how they had escaped from The Royal Academy and found the well hidden caravan other than “Trap door in the kitchens, it said! That’s the last time I take directions from Vogue.”

Through the years and under practical tutelage in the Caravan, Lavender proved to have quick reflexes and a knack for dueling, but it was Sybil Trelawney who took the young enby under her care. The two would spend days on end in private lessons, seeking to understand their shared gifts. It was under her tutelage that Lavender was able to hone their skills as a seer, and in return Lavender brought out a side of Trelawney that few had seen in decades.

Job/Role:

   Stripping was not Lavender’s first choice in occupation when they originally imagined life in London. The fantastical images painted in books and by the older members of the caravan had left little room for the practical side of life on their own.  As such, their job at the quaint cafe and attached book shop below Lavender’s apartment, while picturesque, left the newcomer struggling to keep up with the cost of living in London. It was only when Lavender’s coworker mentioned her part time gig at Gryffin’s, and offered to set up a meeting for the young enby, that Lavender realized how beneficial this taboo line of work could be in maintaining the lifestyle she desired.

Barista by day, dancer by night was an exciting double life to lead for the soul who had hardly lived beyond the mesh flaps of their caravan tent. This second job proved to have other benefits as well though, opening a door Lavender did not even know they had.

London was a city shrouded in mystery, and part of Lavender’s role in the rebellion is to gather any snippets of information that they can scrounge up around London. Between the thump of a loud bass, private rooms, and flowing drink, Nox, Lavender’s alter ego, is finding it almost easy to pull secrets from the lips of clients.

Character Traits:

+ Charismatic – Charm comes easy to Lavender Brown, it is pure instinct that allows them to capture the attention of a room, or draw in a single person. That tilt of the head, a suspenseful pause before the punchline of a joke, Lavender has mastered the art of conversation. Perhaps an aspect of their abilities, Lavender can read a room and steer the conversation to motivate in the best way possible.

+ Reliable – Though persuasive and understanding personalities often make for excellent leaders Lavender prefers to take the role of co-pilot rather than head a crew. An excellent follower is not something most might brag about, but Lavender is capable, works well with almost anyone, and requires little oversight. Deadlines are always met and expectations are often exceeded.

+ Altruistic –  Warm and kind, there is no action Lavender makes that is not genuine. They have an unyielding desire to do good for their found family, and are holding out hope that they will find the tipping point to bring balance between the wix and non-magical communities.

- Idealist – Their entire life Lavender has seen the world how it could possibly be, their premonitions may not always come to fruition, but that does not mean Lavender can shake the thoughts so easily. With so many lost dreams floating through Lavender’s mind and off their tongue Lavender is often seen as naive.

- Sensitive – While logically constructive criticism can be taken as a tool for improvement, Lavender struggles not to take every word of advice to heart. On a bad day their desire to do better for others can turn into a downward spiral of self loathing, while on the flip side can leave them up for days on end looking for solutions to problems that never even existed.

- Too Selfless – Lavender often finds themself overcommitted, buried up to their ears in promises as they strive to keep their word. Spread too thin, this often results in a crash and burn, leaving the enby unable to accomplish anything for days aside from self flagellation for their perceived failure,

OOC Questions

List three aspects of the character or world that that caught your interest.

I have never been drawn to golden trio era RPs, I have never seen the point of rehashing, or carrying on a storyline that we are all so very familiar with already. But the plot presented in Monstrous Things turns everything upside down! I love the gray morality and odd alignments! You’ve taken characters I have grown up with, who are solid fixtures in my heart, and turned them into shadows of what I know, and I want no, need to see where they are headed now.

I like the horror aspect of this RP as well. So many plots want to be beautiful, tidy, and fun, and while they do have their time and place, I have found the most enjoyment in writing the dark, angst, and gruesome.

Finally, I was drawn to Lavender through their promo. An amusing take on a precognitive character which can so easily fall into (slightly racist) tropes. They are a character that, in canon, is often considered annoying and vapid, and I like that here is an opportunity to explore them in a different light, to make them my own.

What is your dream plot?

While the government has never been convinced of the existence of seers that does not mean they are not interested in trying to confirm their existence. Lavender had been watched as a child, with officials even going as far as to make sure they were marked at wix for easier monitoring. So when they ran away at the age of thirteen it was much to the frustration of government officials. Lavender is not aware of this, but their return to London, when discovered by the ministry, will lead to unspeakable horrors. Finally of age, and having been trained under Trelawny – the other suspected seer who has managed to elude government capture – Lavender is believed to be a valuable resource for the Ministry. What secrets might be contained within her veins? Skin must be broken and sacrifices must be made in the search for the truth.

Lavender came to London on noble plans to aid the rebellion, but it is no secret she also came with love to share. To Lavender there is no life without love; love of family, love for their rabbit, Binky, love of mother earth, and love for the partner you share if life. Though they have sentimental notions of Love, Lavender has little practical experience with romantic relationships and could easily find themself tangled up in the one blind spot they have. It would be interesting to play with this, to have someone take advantage of Lavender’s kind heart and romantic notions. Perhaps a spy from the muggle ministry is attempting to gain information and access to the wix rebellion? Or maybe there is someone more nefarious, linked to the plot mentioned above.

Regarding Lavender’s mentor and adopted mother figure, Trelawny… In my mind she is still very much alive and living in the caravan. If the admins want to make her a playable character I’d be open to that, it would be nice to have that sort of dynamic to write with for Lavender. That being said, I would imagine she might be a difficult character to fill, and I’m also happy keeping her as an NPC. Lavender adores Sybil, and thus it would be great to kill her off just to see how Lavender handles such a deep and permanent loss.

As far as Lavender’s role in the rebellion, they are not a leader, though they are well liked by many. But I do see them as someone the leaders would trust. Lavender is good with people, and could be someone who steps in to keep peace, or to lend a trusted opinion. They could be someone entrusted with secrets and secret missions, and inner circle type of person. Obviously this is up to the Admin’s discretion, and I’d be happy to hear other ideas y’all may have.

Finally, I’d like to break into Gringots and old wix London, because, what the hell is even in there now?! I have to know!