#every line feels like it has a 2 second pause after it and everybody is talking very sloooowly and like theyre not in the same room

[kraniumet]

xmen 97 verdict. weird. like venture bros if it was played straight. and also a webtoon self insert story.

[ragingbookdragon]

My Brother's Best Friend Is The One For Me

Wally West x Batsis!Reader One-Shot

Word Count: 3.6K Warnings: Explicit Language

Author's Note: Got to rereading my Batsis fics and came across the "What A Flashy Romance" and wanted to do another one with Wally because I love him. Enjoy! -Thorne

Being the middle child and also the only girl in the Batfamily meant two things:

1. She had four brothers that treated her like a porcelain doll, despite the fact that she could throw a punch at 336 PSI.

And

2. She followed an unspoken rule that Dick and Jason’s friends were off limits when it came to dating.

In all, neither of those things were major problems. She’d learned at a young age how to avoid Dick and Jason’s overbearing-protective-brother-modes, and Tim and Damian were younger, so she didn’t have to worry about them. The second one was also avoidable—most of her older brothers’ friends were the same, and she wasn’t around most of them to develop any feelings.

Well, there was Wally, but it was just a crush. A stupid, little school-girl crush—that she’d never really grown out of—that didn’t matter in the slightest. Except whenever Dick brought him over to the house and she had to pretend that sitting next to him didn’t make her heart race like she’d run a mile.

And the most annoying thing about the whole crush is that she couldn’t tell if Wally was ever interested in her or not. Most of Dick’s friends, Garth, Kyle, Roy, they treated her like a little sister—hell, they even said “Love you lil sis!” to her regularly. And yet, Wally didn’t. Now, there was the occasional head pat, but even that was an affectionate gesture that siblings and SO’s did all the time. It was infuriating, and so was Wally—but she was going to sort it all out the next time he came over because the worst thing he could say was “No”, and either she needed to hear that…or “Yes”.

***

Normal Sundays for the Wayne household usually meant Ultimate Waffle Breakfast and sitting on your ass all day until patrol—it was the one day of the week where they could do anything and nothing and didn’t have to stick to schedules. Everyone loved Sundays, especially (Y/N), because it meant that all of her family was home, even Jason (who tried to deny that he enjoyed coming home to hang out, but if that mile long grin was any help, he was lying). And while everyone was home, that usually meant that everybody’s friends were coming over too.

***

She swiped the syrup out of Jason’s hand when he swung it back around, grinning at him when he glared at her.

“I was gonna use that, (Y/N),” he griped, and she shrugged, uncapping the bottle.

She tipped it over and watched the syrup lazily pour out of the container onto her waffles.

“You were taking too long.” Her eyes twinkled with humor. “I guess you were as…slow as molasses.”

While most of the table groaned at her terrible joke, Dick snorted into his milk, causing it to splatter on his plate and across the table.

“Nice one,” he coughed, wiping his face and the dark oak surface.

(Y/N) bowed dramatically. “Well, I did learn from the best.” When Dick’s face lit up, she turned to Alfred and smiled. “Alfie, thank you for teaching me your ways.”

The old butler merely tipped his head, a hidden smile crossing his lips at the way the eldest son’s jaw went slack. She turned her attention to Bruce who was quietly chewing, eyes following along the research paper she’d asked him to check out.

“Dad, what’s on your agenda for today?”

He swallowed and flicked a line out with a red pen, etching his own comment in the margin. “Lucius has a few ideas about some new gadgets he wanted to run by me.” Another line went out. “I’ll call him after breakfast.” Bruce looked at her. “You?”

(Y/N) nodded at the paper in his hands, then slapped Jason’s who was reaching over to take a piece of bacon from her plate. “Waiting for you to finish tearing me a new one so I can redo the paper.” She cut into the waffle with the side of her fork. “Once I salvage what little scientific dignity you’ve left me with, I’ll probably laze around.”

“You mean what you do normally?” Bruce quipped, grinning when she glowered at him; his eyes went back to her paper. “You’re doing well so far.”

She huffed. “Tell that to every red line you’ve marked out in that paragraph.”

He flashed the paper. “I’m writing in the margins how to change it. This isn’t a dissertation, sweetheart. You’re allowed to make mistakes. We all do.”

(Y/N) grumbled as her cheeks warmed and she went back to her plate as the conversation flowed around her.

Most of it was the discussion of what everyone was planning on doing, Damian was going to play video games, Tim was going to join him (which she knew was going to be fun while the moment lasted until the petty sibling rivalry got in the way and their gaming dwindled into a physical fight that she and probably Dick were going to have to break up), Jason was going to use the workbench in the cave to upgrade some gear, and Dick apparently,

“Wally and Garth are gonna come over later and hang out.”

She paused, mid-stab of her fork and looked at up. “Wally’s coming over?”

He nodded. “And Garth. We were gonna go to the mall and get some new clothes.”

Jason snorted, laying an arm over the backs of Tim and (Y/N)’s chairs. “Spending money with daddy’s credit card, Dickie?”

Dick smirked. “Just like you.” Jason merely matched his grin, and while the entire table was cracking up at Bruce’s frown, (Y/N) was silent, heart beating faster at the thought of seeing Wally.

“(Y/N)?” She startled and looked up at Dick.

“Huh?”

“I asked if you were okay. You got quiet all of the sudden.”

She smiled and shook her head. “Yeah, just thought about all of the corrections I’m gonna have to do because somebody CAN’T STOP MARKING OUT MY PARAGRAPHS.” Bruce merely smiled and knocked out another line.

It was a lie. It was the biggest lie she’d told right next to the one she told when Bruce had asked her where she was on prom night her senior year a few years ago—she was totally not saving a different sector of the universe with Kyle Rayner, she was dancing with Sam Reilly all night—she strongly believed her dad knew the truth—Batman knew everything.

Bruce handed the paper back to her and she groaned as she scanned the red lines on every page. It was going to take her hours to go over this.

Jason leaned over and read the title, “Cellular Division and Mutation Under Extreme Elemental Circumstances…a composition by (Y/N) Wayne.” He cocked a dark brow. “Go big or go home, huh, baby girl?”

(Y/N) hummed. “Doctor Halberd wanted us to pick challenging topics for the research paper this term.” A crooked smile crossed her lips. “I’m nothing if not ambitious about proving I’m smarter than everyone else.”

“You need another source,” Bruce murmured, sipping the steaming black coffee. “One-fourteen is good, but I’d go for one-fifteen.”

She groaned and dropped her head. “Are you kidding me? I had enough trouble gathering that many.”

“Why don’t you use Barry?” Tim piped up, mouth full of whip cream and strawberries.

“Master Timothy, we do not talk with our mouth full,” Alfred admonished, and Tim blushed.

(Y/N)’s head shot up and she stared at her brother. “That’s actually a good idea. Speedsters would make for perfect references about cellular division.” An idea popped into her head and she glanced at Dick. “And since Wally is com—”

“Nope,” Dick interrupted, pointing at her. “Wally is coming over to hang out, not to be poked and prodded to finish a paper.”

She let out a whine and turned to Bruce. “Dad, tell Dick to let me at least talk to Wally about it.”

Bruce turned his attention onto Dick. “Let your sister talk to Wally about her paper.”

“Oh, come on,” he complained and (Y/N) stood from her seat, hurrying around the table to stand behind Dick’s seat.

She draped herself over his shoulders, tucking her chin in the crook of his neck. “I promise I won’t be annoying if you let me come with you. I’ll ask two questions every thirty minutes and I’ll go do shopping on my own, so I won’t be in the way.” (Y/N) craned her neck and pulled the most pitiful puppy eyes she could. “Please?”

Dick’s eyes darted to her face and then he looked away. Just one more push.

“Please frate?” she begged and when his eyes went wide from the usage of his native tongue, she knew she’d won him over.

He deflated and let out a sigh. “Fine,” he grumbled. “You can come with us.”

(Y/N) squealed and pressed a kiss to his cheekbone, as she grabbed the paper and hurried towards the door. She halted and spun around, looking at her father.

“What do I need to be most specific about?”

“Division under elemental circumstances.”

She glowered at him. “No shit Sherlock. Specifics.”

“Molecular division under terrestrial gamma-ray flashes.”

“That’ll work,” (Y/N) nodded and exited to room.

Jason looked out the door then back to his brothers. “She’s way to excited about science sometimes.” They merely laughed.

***

She raised the red lace, cold shoulder V-neck shirt to her chest before frowning, and switching it with the full lace blue shirt with mini golden lightning bolt charms hanging off the trim. After a moment, she pulled the blue one down and sighed.

“You know, if you want to impress him, I’d wear the red shirt.”

She jumped and barely managed to suppress the scream that was coming up in her throat as she swiveled around to face her door. Jason stood in the doorway, a knowing look on his face. She could play this one of two ways: she could be truthful, or she could lie—she chose the latter.

“What do you mean?” He snorted and walked into her room, taking a seat at her desk.

“I mean if you’re trying to impress Wally, wear the shirt that’s the color of his suit, (Y/N).” She looked away and into the mirror, but she couldn’t escape the eyes boring into her back.

“Is it that obvious?” she asked quietly, and he laughed.

“That you’re head over heels for Dick’s best friend? Oh yeah. Totally.”

She sighed and sat on her bed, pulling the red top over her torso. “It’s just a crush.”

“Seems like more than a crush to me, baby girl.”

(Y/N) pulled the fabric down and looked at him. “Are you gonna tell Dick?”

Jason scoffed. “Do I look like a narc to you?”

She cocked a brow and deadpanned, “Just the other night you told dad that Damian lifted Two-Face’s wallet when he was being put in a cruiser.”

“Well, that wasn’t something important,” he countered and nodded at her. “This is.” He paused and shrugged. “Nah, I’m not gonna tell Dickhead. Play this out however you see fit, baby girl.”

(Y/N) stared at him for a moment then averted her gaze and let out a sigh; Jason huffed.

“That sounds like a heavy sigh, (Y/N). What’s wrong?”

She shrugged. “I don’t even know if Wally would be interested in me. He’s him and I’m me.”

Jason stood and walked over, kneeling in front of her. “Hey, what’s that supposed to mean?”

(Y/N) met his eyes. “Anytime he’s had a girlfriend she’s always been super strong or really outspoken.”

“And you’re not?” he quipped, causing her to huff.

“You know what I mean, Jay.”

He nodded. “Okay, so you’re not an Amazon or shoving your head up someone’s ass for a story. But you’re you.”

“And that means?”

“You’re the only daughter of the World’s Greatest Detective who’s a wicked smart science major by day and a badass vigilante by night.” He cupped her cheeks. “You are intelligent, warmhearted, talented, and absolutely beautiful.” Jason smushed her cheeks together and grinned as she giggled. “And if Wally doesn’t see any of what I just said, then he’s a damn fool and not worth your time. You hear me, baby girl?”

She nodded. “I hear you.”

Jason gave her a firm nod and let go, standing to his feet. “Now come on let’s go do your makeup.”

(Y/N) blinked. “You can do makeup?”

“Baby girl, I can do a lot of things. Now hurry up. That razor sharp eye liner and golden eyeshadow isn’t going to do itself.”

***

She waited beside Dick with a pleasant smile on her face, and despite the fluttering heartbeat in her chest, Jason’s pep talk kept running through her head and with every passing moment, she felt her confidence rising. He was right, if she told Wally and he didn’t feel the same, then it was his loss and her gain to move on and find someone else.

A black sedan pulled up at the manor and the passenger window rolled down, revealing Wally at the wheel and Garth in the passenger’s seat. Dick waved at them.

“Hey guys,” he greeted. “How was the drive over?”

“Oh, you know, we saw three carjacking’s and one armed robbery,” Garth quipped. “I assume that’s normal for Gotham though.”

“It’s a bit below average actually,” (Y/N) piped up. “Hi Garth. Hi Wally.”

Wally smiled and Garth waved in return as the two siblings started getting in the car.

“You’re coming with us, (Y/N)?” Wally questioned and she nodded.

“Do you want me to lie to you or give you the truth?”

He chuckled. “I’m always open for a good story.”

“I wanted to buy out Victoria’s Secret and piss off any boyfriends who are in hot water with their girlfriends.” The guys laughed and she admitted, “Truth though, I need one last source for a research paper.”

“Gonna find that source shopping?” Garth asked and (Y/N) caught Wally’s eyes in the rear-view mirror.

“Actually, my last source is Wally.”

They fell silent and looked at her, though the speedster’s focus was on the road.

“What are you gonna source Wally on?” The Atlantean inquired.

“My paper is over cellular mutation under distress from elemental conditions.” She smiled at Wally. “Our speedster here, is a walking subject perfect for the paper. I can only hope that he agrees to be a willing participant.”

Wally chuckled. “I’d be willing to part with a few secrets for you. Of course, I’d have to—”

“Remain anonymous.” (Y/N) winked. “I’m sure my professor would be okay with me citing ‘The Flash’ so long as I had a picture with him to back it up.”

“I like pictures,” he murmured, pulling into the parking lot.

“That’s good to know,” she replied and when he put the car in park, she took her purse and added, “So I’ll leave you boys to do your shopping and Wally, I’ll text you any questions I have.”

“You’re not gonna hang around?” Garth asked and she shook her head.

“Nah, I don’t wanna be the annoying little sister who follows her older brother and his friends around.” She smiled at them. “Besides, Dick was kind enough to let me come along. Least I can do is stay out of your way.”

(Y/N) opened the door and waved at them. “Text me when you’re ready to leave and I’ll meet you back here.”

***

Despite the initial joke that she was going to buy out the lingerie store, there was actually some truth in the statement, and she drew her fingers over one of the lace baby dolls as she looked at her phone, grinning like a dope at Wally’s response.

Well, I wouldn’t say I’d grow a second skin from how fast my cells regenerate, but I can make my body heal instantaneously. -W

Can you regenerate limbs or major organs? –(Y/I)

Major organs or useful ones? -W

(Y/N) paused at his response and thought for a moment. It was risky. Sending the text, she was thinking about was risky, but it’d sure get her point across that she was into him. With her heart hammering in her chest, she pushed send and stuck her phone in her pocket.

Whichever ones are useful to you, Wally? ;) –(Y/N)

Her phone didn’t buzz for a good minute, and Wally took less than a second to reply, so he was doing one of two things: A.) Telling Dick that his younger sister sent a flirty text, or B.) Trying to figure out how to let her down easy. (Y/N) didn’t know which one was worse. Her hip buzzed and she inhaled shakily, pulling her phone out of her pocket with one eye cracked open to see how screwed she was.

Do you have a useful one in mind, beautiful? -W

She had to clamp a hand over her mouth to keep from letting out the biggest gasp any human had ever made, and she nervously looked around her to make sure no one else was staring at her. She grinned as she replied to him.

Oh, I could think of one…or two or three…Why? Is there gonna be a pop quiz over this later? I’ll have you know I’m an excellent test taker. –(Y/N)

Is that so? Well, what happens if you were to fail this particular pop quiz, (Y/N)? -W

I guess you’d have to stay the night for a study session and help me make a better grade ;) –(Y/I)

As she waited for another response, someone’s hand touched the small of her back and she reacted, immediately stepping away from the offending touch to spin on them. Her eyes went wide when she saw Wally standing before her, a grin on his face, phone in his hand.

“I think an overnight study session is possible, (Y/N).”

Her mouth opened and closed repeatedly, like a fish until she finally got her brain to work and asked, “I thought you were shopping with Dick and Garth?”

He shrugged. “Told Dick you asked me an advanced question that’d be easier to answer in person than over text.” He wiggled his brows. “You know, advanced equations and scientific gibberish.”

(Y/N) huffed a laugh and turned back around, trying to ignore the heat in her cheeks as she picked up one of the teddies. And when she realized what it looked like, she only felt more flustered. Crimson with baby blue trimming and was practically a shoelace.

“Well, that’sa hint if there ever was one,” Wally quipped, and she pulled the lingerie out of his line of sight.

“It was just the first one I grabbed!” she exclaimed, snapping her mouth shut when people looked over at them. Her cheeks felt like they were wildfires, and she pressed her head against the cool metal of the rack, sighing with what little relief it provided.

“You know, (Y/N),” he started softly. “If you’re not comfortable, this doesn’t have to go anywhere. I can forget this ever happened if you want me to.” (Y/N) opened her eyes and peered at him, at the concern but also the kindness in his gaze.

“I just—” she murmured and trailed off before letting out a sigh. “It’s kinda complicated.”

“Okay,” Wally nodded. “My mouth might work faster than my brain sometimes but lay it on me.”

She cracked a smile and thought back on Jason’s words. If Wally doesn’t see any of what I just said, then he’s a damn fool and not worth your time.

(Y/N) took a deep breath and looked at him, admitting, “Wally, I have…feelings for you.” His eyes widened and though she felt the sting of embarrassment, she pushed out her words. “It’s stupid, like one of those dumb childhood crushes that just sticks with you, you know?”

She averted her gaze and looked at her peep toe heels. “I just don’t wanna screw anything up because even if you don’t feel anything like I do, I don’t wanna lose you as a friend. Because I do value your friendship.” She sighed. “And Dick. I don’t wanna make you uncomfortable about coming over to see him if there’s a chance you’ll have to see me too. I just—”

“Woah, woah, woah,” Wally interrupted gently, a smile growing on his face. “You’re thinking way big here, (Y/N). Bigger than you need to right now.”

She met his eyes. “Right now?” she repeated, and he reached out, taking her hand in his. His fingers felt tingly against her palm and he smiled.

“I like you, (Y/N).”

She blinked at him, practically dumbfounded. “You…you do?”

Wally nodded and confessed, “Have for a couple years, but I didn’t wanna make a move not knowing if you were interested.” His cheeks tinged pink, and he said, “But I’m glad you are. Like super glad.” (Y/N) giggled, suddenly feeling really foolish for all her worry and Wally let out a chuckle too.

She stared at him for a moment, relishing the coolness of his skin before pulling away, toying with the teddy in her other hand.

“So, about tonight…you staying over?”

Wally let out a groan and looked between her and the lingerie. “Probably, but I don’t know if I’ll be able to get away long enough to spend some time alone with you.”

(Y/N) let out a ‘pfft’ and winked. “I’m sure you’ll figure it out, Flash. You are the fastest man alive.”

“You’re into quickies? Good to know,” he grinned.

“Shut up,” she giggled.

[dreamerstreamer]

Lucky in Love

Pairing: poly!Dream Team x gn!reader

Summary: [Soulmate!AU] It’s one thing to meet your soulmate in a lottery, and another to have more than just one. But when you end up winning Dream’s Minecraft Manhunt raffle, you find your world turning upside down in ways you least expect.

Word Count: 9.9k

A/N: behold, my first commissioned story! this story has been altered from it’s original form so everyone can read it, but the majority of the plot and writing remain the same. i had a lot of fun writing it, and i hope you all like it! <3

You stumbled into your bedroom with a yelp, your thumb flying across your phone screen to the home button and pressing gently. With a gleam, the time flashed back at you, and your eyes shot wide open.

You were going to be late.

Leaning forward on one leg, you pushed the door behind you shut with your foot, bouncing forward as soon as you heard it click shut. Your eyes swept across the room, your gaze catching on a swath of black cloth sitting at the foot of your bed. With a quirk of your lips, you tugged the shirt off the mattress before turning on your heel. Darting to the other side of the room, you easily settled back into your desk chair and let the shirt drop onto your thighs.

Grabbing your mouse, you moved your cursor to the YouTube bookmark at the top of your screen, your computer screen instantaneously flooding with light. You scrolled over to the left side of your screen, your mouse hovering over a familiar green icon before clicking, a new box popping into view.

Stream starting in 60... 59... 58... 57...

You felt your lungs tighten within your rib cage, your toes curling ever so slightly into the floor. It had been a nerve-wracking month of waiting and pacing, crossing each day off the calendar with an anxious grin. You almost couldn’t believe that the day had finally arrived. Letting out one last breath, you leaned forward, the t-shirt feeling heavy in your lap.

3... 2... 1...

All of a sudden, the screen went dark. Your reflection stared back at you from the dim screen, your excited eyes peering back at yourself with a curious glint. Reaching up, you brush an unkempt lock of hair away from your forehead, just in time for two familiar faces and a lime green icon to appear.

The Dream Team.

“Hey, guys!” Dream said, his voice sounding like a breath of fresh air. “How are you all doing?”

A flurry of hearts flew across the live chat screen, the lines moving by so quickly that you couldn’t tell when one message ended and another started. Practically bouncing in your seat, you couldn’t help the smile that skittered across your cheeks.

“Good,” you whispered aloud to yourself in the quiet of your room. You knew that they couldn’t hear you when you talked like that, that they wouldn’t know you had even replied at all, but it made their streams feel a little more lively nonetheless.

After a brief pause, Dream’s voice filtered through the air once more, just as bright and eager as it was earlier. “Good? I hope the answer is good.”

Your breath hitched in your throat, your heart flipping in your chest as your fingers curled into the shirt in your lap. That sort of thing happened sometimes: a streamer would say something and your verbal response almost made it feel like they were actually holding a conversation, like they were actually with you right now. These sorts of things were always a coincidence, but when everything in your world was connected by fate, sometimes you let yourself be a little hopeful, let yourself imagine that maybe it wasn’t dumb luck—that maybe it actually meant something.

Hell, maybe it meant you could be soulmates.

Soulmates were a tricky thing to think about, really, even if everyone knew they existed and that one day, they would meet theirs. No one could pinpoint when exactly soulmates came to be, but no one rejected their presence either way. It wasn’t like they wanted to, anyways. To have a person who was perfect for you linked to you by the universe—it was no wonder people were more than pleased to discover they weren’t just some old lover’s tale.

But even then, some were skeptics. How would you really know when you had found your soulmate? What if you missed them by accident? For you at least, you already knew what it would feel like. You couldn’t count just how many times you had asked your mother that very question, but you could practically rattle off her words by heart.

“You’ll know exactly when it happens, I promise, sweetie,” she would murmur, stroking your head with a gentle hum and soft eyes. “When you first touch, it feels like... like you’ve been struck by lightning, and you’ll be tingly all over. Something inside you just sort of clicks when you look at them, and you’ll just—you’ll feel it right here.” She tapped her finger over your heart, a wistful expression settling across her face. “It’s... it’s magical, and you’ll never forget that feeling—not for the rest of your life.”

The smile that would tug on your mother’s lips made you all the more hopeful, a heavy yearning settling deep into the crevices of your heart as the years went by. Even now, as you sat watching Sapnap and George bicker with each other while Dream chimed in with a snarky remark, you felt that same fleeting hope rising up in your chest, warm and soft.

Maybe—just maybe—they might be your soulmates.

Not that they actually were, of course. You knew better than to get your hopes too high.

But as you watched Sapnap’s lean a little closer to his camera and listened to George’s breathy laugh, you felt your heart swell the tiniest bit.

Connected by fate or not, these boys were special to you, even if you had never met.

Sapnap blinked as his eyes darted across his monitor, raising his eyebrows with surprise as he let out a short whistle. “Oh, wow, we’re pulling... holy crap—over seven hundred thousand viewers, right now.” You could vaguely hear the scrolling of his mouse, his lips twitching. “Everyone sounds so excited in chat, too.”

George’s eyebrow quirked. “I mean, of course they are. Manhunts are loads of fun—who wouldn’t want to be a part of them?”

Sapnap’s face split into a teasing grin, and he leaned back in his chair. “Ooh, you sure sound cocky, George.”

George blinked once, then scowled. “Wha—shut up, it’s true! Why else would there be so many people here?”

A devilish gleam flickered across Sapnap’s gaze. “To see your pretty face, maybe.”

George’s frown deepened, his eyebrows knitting together into a glower. “Sapnap, you—”

“Look, look,” he cried, wagging his finger at his monitor, “even chat agrees!” His lips curled up into a smirk, mischievous and amused all at once. “You’re not gonna say chat is wrong, are you, Gogy?”

You could have sworn a hint of rose flushed across George’s cheeks as he averted his gaze from his camera, his voice coming out softer than before. “W-Well, I—”

“Boys, boys,” Dream suddenly cut in, George’s words trailing off in an instant. Despite the firmness of his words, there was an amused lilt to his tone, the smile evident in his voice. “You’re both pretty, alright, but can we please move on? I bet everyone’s dying to know who won.”

George opened his mouth, then let out a sigh, shaking his head with a hint of a smile gracing his lips. “You know what, Dream’s right. Let’s move on.”

Sapnap snickered on his side of the screen, still grinning widely. “You just can’t handle the truth.”

George groaned, deadpanning into the camera. “We are not starting this, again.”

Sapnap smiled, but didn’t get to speak before Dream cut him off. “You’re right,” he said, sounding a tad more hurried than before, “we’re not, because I’ve got the results, right here.”

You suddenly sat up, your heart stuttering. That same spark of hope fluttered up between your lungs, and you found yourself shuffling your chair forward, squinting in anticipation. Curiosity quivered around the edges of your mind, a certain eagerness pawing at your side as you watched a white pop-up fill the stream.

Everybody had an equal chance of winning—you knew that. That everyone may include you, but it also included every other person who bought one of those shirts. It didn’t take a genius to know that you weren't going to win. After all, not everything was guaranteed like having a soulmate was.

“And,” Dream began, dramatic and slow, “our winner is...”

You squeezed your hands, clasping your palms together with a feeling you couldn’t quite name.

“...shirt number 267815!”

You blinked, your brows furrowing together. That number sounded... oddly familiar. Your eyes flickered down to the shirt in your lap, the white tag peeking back up at you.

It couldn’t be.

All of a sudden, Dream’s voice rang through the air once more, sounding even clearer than ever before.

“Oh, and the name connected to the shirt is... [Y/N]!”

Your heart came to a screeching halt in your chest, your eyes shooting wide open as your jaw dropped.

I... won?

You gaped at your screen, only half-registering the sight of Sapnap and George clapping. The chat had become a blur of words you couldn’t bring yourself to read, your vision growing hazy and unfocused with shock. I must look crazy right now, you thought to yourself distantly, rubbing at your face. This can’t be real.

George’s gaze locked directly onto the camera, and for a second, it almost felt like he was speaking directly to you. “Congratulations, [Y/N]!” He wrinkled his nose with an apologetic smile. “I hope I’m saying that, right. If I’m wrong, please tell me.”

Sapnap chuckled, shooting him a devious grin. “Knowing George, he’s probably wrong.”

Your lips twitched at the frown that flitted across George’s face before Dream took over again. “Ignore them—they’re being dumb.” Before either of them could protest, he quickly added, “Anyways, welcome to Minecraft Manhunt! We’re looking forward to meeting you. We’ll send you an email soon, and you can give us some more info there.”

You nodded at your monitor, your lips still parted in surprise. “We’ll be ending the stream now,” Dream continued, “but thanks so much for everyone else who participated. Your love and support mean the world to us!”

You could hear the smile in his voice as he spoke, and it sent a rush of warmth shooting down your spine. “[Y/N],” he murmured, suddenly sounding soft, “we’ll see you soon.”

As George and Sapnap waved one last time at their cameras with excited grins, you swallowed. Your heart rattled in your chest as the screen faded back to black, and you found yourself sitting face-to-face with your reflection once more.

You were right—you looked just as dumbfounded as you felt.

Slowly, you closed your mouth, lowering your gaze to the shirt in your lap. The axe that was laid out across your thighs somehow seemed brighter than it did before, almost as if someone had painted over it with a newer, shinier layer of white.

Lifting the shirt to your chest, you felt a wide grin tug at your lips—wider than any grin you had ever smiled before.

Maybe you were luckier than you thought.

Your finger hovered over the left button of your mouse, your breaths coming out shaky and short as they pumped through your lungs. The Discord call already had three icons waiting for you, and all you had to do was click to join them.

Breathe, [Y/N]. You’re only about to talk to three of your favourite content creators on the planet. It’ll be easy.

You paused, listening to the sound of your heartbeat thumping in your ears.

Oh, who am I kidding? I’m not fooling anyone.

A groan rose in the back of your throat, and you hung your head in your hands for a long moment. “C’mon,” you whispered to yourself. “You can’t keep them waiting forever.”

You sucked on the inside of your cheek, then lifted your head, nodding once, then twice. Yes, okay—calm. I can be calm. Your finger twitched. Let’s do this.

Your hand reached back for your mouse, the cool plastic melding against your skin as your cursor hovered back over the call. Squeezing your eyes shut for just a second, you let your finger press down, a familiar ping echoing through your headphones. There was a beat of silence. Then, someone spoke.

“Hi! Hello!”

You jumped at that sound of Dream’s voice, your heart skipping a beat as you quickly reoriented yourself again. “H-Hi, there,” you said as calmly as you could muster.

“It’s nice to meet you, [Y/N]! I’m Dream.” There was a slight pause, then he added hesitantly, “Did I say that right, by the way? Your name, I mean.”

Your lips curled up into a smile, and you felt the tension seep out of your shoulders. “Yes, you got it right.”

You could almost imagine him grinning to himself triumphantly. “Perfect.”

A new voice suddenly jumped in, just as eager as Dream’s. “Don’t steal the spotlight already, Dream,” Sapnap whined, his icon flashing green. “There’s three of us, not just you.” Ignoring Dream’s quiet apology, he quickly moved on. “I’m Sapnap—it’s great to have you here.”

“And I’m George,” another voice added, his prominent accent sounding like honey in your ears.

Every ounce of anxiety you had been feeling earlier felt so far away now, their voices carrying your worries off over the horizon. “It’s nice to meet you all, too. My name’s [Y/N], but you already know who I am, don’t you?”

“Well,” George said, drawing out the vowel, “we may know a few things about you, but we don’t really know who you are—that’s something we want to hear from you.”

Sapnap made a noise of confirmation, his mouth moving at lightning speed as he suddenly began to fire off question after question. “Yeah, like, what’s your favourite flower? Or season? Which one of us do you think is the most handsome? Ooh, what about—”

“Woah, woah,” Dream cut in, wheezing ever so slightly, “one thing at a time, to start. Let them breathe, at least!”

You couldn’t help but laugh at the hints of laughter tinting his voice. “It’s okay!” you said, your lips splitting into a crooked grin. “Although I don’t know if I can answer those questions.”

George let out a confused noise. “No? Why not?”

You hummed, swinging your legs around your chair. “Like for my favourite flower, I think they’re all really pretty and look nice, in their own little ways. Same thing for seasons.” You chuckled. “I’m too indecisive to pick just one.”

“But who do you think is the most handsome out of the three of us?” Sapnap prodded, excitement seeping into his tone. “It’s definitely me, right? Come on.”

“Hey,” George suddenly quipped, rushing through his words, “no flirting yet! We only just met!”

There was a brief second of silence. “I mean, isn’t that technically the best time to start flirting?”

“Sapnap.”

“Fine,” Sapnap sighed. You could practically hear him roll his eyes. “Friends first, flirting later.” You were about to breathe a sigh of relief when he added, “Carry on, though. I still want to hear your answer.”

Chewing on your lip, you stiffened, drumming your fingers against the side of your keyboard. “I’m telling you,” you sighed after a long moment, “I really don’t think I can pick. As a matter of fact,” you pointed out, raising a finger. “I don’t even know what one of you looks like.”

Now, it was Dream’s turn to speak up. “Then, talk about attractiveness, in general. It doesn’t just have to be about looks.”

You froze, your posture going rigid. Attractiveness in general…?

How could you possibly encapsulate their attractiveness just like that? Dream was so incredibly clever, and you loved to hear him talk about his passions. George was smarter than he let on, and you could see it in the way he coded their videos, working relentlessly to make them work. Sapnap was beyond affectionate, and just hearing him share his affection with those around him made your stomach melt. They were just handing you a recipe for disaster with a question like this, you knew it.

“This question is impossible,” you blurted, a gentle panic seeping into your tone. Narrowing your eyes, you leaned closer to your mic, adding with a teasing lilt, “Are you trying to torture me?”

“Maybe we are, maybe we aren’t,” Dream hummed, chuckling at the small whine that escaped your lips. “Either way, it’s cute to hear you struggle.”

Your breath suddenly hitched in your throat, but Sapnap was quick to leap forward. “Hey, what did we say about no flirting?”

Another beat of silence. “Killjoy.”

“Okay, moving on from that,” George said, quickly diverting topics, “how are you feeling, [Y/N]? Are you looking forward to the manhunt?”

You looked back at the call, your eyes locking onto the three Discord icons sitting next to your own. “Yes,” you admitted, “but I’m also very, very nervous.”

“Nervous?” Dream repeated slowly.

“Nervous,” you said again, “but a good kind of nervous.” You opened your mouth, then closed it. “Actually, I think excited is a better word to use. You guys always just seem like you have so much fun when you’re around each other, and I’m just...” You waved your hands in front of yourself, feeling your heart beat faster and faster while your face grew hot once more. “I’m just really excited to film with you all and play Minecraft together.”

Silence washed over the call, and your cheeks felt like they were about to burn right off your face. “Sorry,” you mumbled embarrassedly. “That—that probably sounds really dumb.”

“It doesn’t,” Sapnap said suddenly, making your gaze grow wide, “not at all.”

“Yeah,” George added with a joyful hum. “I dunno about those two, but I’m also excited to play with you, [Y/N].”

Dream guffawed, a scoff escaping his lips. “What do you mean you don’t know about us? Of course we’re excited! [Y/N] is great!”

You nearly fell out of your chair. “H-Huh?”

Dream’s voice was suddenly soft again, both parts soothing and cheerful all at once. “We might have only known each other for a little while, but I’m telling you, we’re beyond happy to have you here, and we want you to have a good time, too.”

“Oh, a thousand percent,” George said straight-facedly into his mic. “I’d trade you for both of these nerds in a heartbeat.”

Just like that, Sapnap was yelling as you heard Dream smack his desk. “George, what?! How could you say that?”

Giggling, you sank into your desk chair with a relieved smile, pressing a hand over your eager heart. “Thank you,” you murmured, only hoping they could hear the sincerity in your words. “I hope I don’t let you guys down.”

Their raucous bickering suddenly died down at the softness in your tone, and three voices spoke at the same time—each one sounding more honest than the last.

“You could never.”

You leaned forward in your desk chair, your eyes glued to your screen as you watched Dream’s avatar stand as still as a rock, frozen and entirely unmoving. Your finger hovered over your W key, waiting for the perfect moment to strike as your tongue darted out to flick over your bottom lip.

Manhunts may be stressful, but you were more than ready to tackle this one headfirst.

It happened so quickly that you nearly missed it. In one moment, Dream was standing in front of you, stock still as you stared him down. In the next, he was darting off in the opposite direction, already a whopping ten blocks away.

Sapnap’s voice shot through your headset like a bullet as he shouted, “After him!”

He didn’t need to say it again before the group was already dashing across the grassy field, boosting each other forward every other block. You clicked frantically at George’s backside, your lips twitching in glee as he shot the slightest bit closer to Dream. With each passing second, they ran further and further, Dream lying just a few steps out of reach. All of a sudden, he leapt off the side of a cliff, vanishing from sight in an instant. Coming to a screeching halt atop the hill, you watched as Bad peered over the forest, Sapnap and George hot on his heels.

“Where’d he go?” George muttered, confusion clouding his voice.

You shifted your mouse left and right as your gaze darted across your screen, scanning every pixel for even the tiniest hint of neon green. Just then, a gasp flew from your lips, and you caught Sapnap jolting in your direction at the sound.

“Look!” you cried, clicking to point over at the greenery. “He’s on the right—on top of the trees!”

Without missing a beat, everyone was leaping off the hill and barreling across the trees, ignoring their fall damage as they jumped over small gaps. “What is he,” George grumbled under his breath, “a monkey?”

You let out a tiny giggle at the genuine annoyance in his tone, but didn’t stop chasing after Dream’s running figure. Suddenly, he just barely missed his jump, bouncing twice on the same leaf block. He had only stalled for a brief second, but that was more than enough time for you to spam click your mouse. In a flash, Dream was tumbling off the tree, with you trailing right after him.

“I hit him off!” you shouted in glee, elation making every one of your syllables soar in your throat. “He’s on the ground.”

“Nice one, [Y/N]!” Sapnap chuckled with delight. “Now, don’t let him get away!”

The praise made the triumphant feeling that had unfurled beneath your ribs spread even farther under your skin, warming you from head to toe. Pushing forward, you nodded and slammed your thumb down on your space bar.

You had no plans of letting him escape.

You pulled your water bottle from your lips with a gasp, quickly screwing the cap back on before setting it down on your desk. Wiping your mouth with the back of your hand, you turned back to your monitor, your gaze focused on the anvil a few blocks away. To your left sat the portal, and to your right was a wall of obsidian.

You were four hours into filming now, but you still weren't tired. How could you be, when you were so close to the end?

Clicking on the anvil, you dragged the diamond axe in your inventory into the first slot before reaching for the enchanted book sitting just beside it. Forty-two levels—you would need forty-two levels to enchant your axe with Sharpness IV.

You glanced down at the space above your hotbar and grinned.

Luckily for you, you had forty-three.

Clicking once more, clanging echoed through your ears, and you placed your newly enchanted axe in your hotbar with a proud smile. It was an absolute pain having to kill as many mobs and loot as many desert temples as you did, but for this, it was absolutely worth it. Now, it was time for the rest of the plan.

“I have no idea how you came up with this,” George said earnestly, his character facing yours, “but I love it.”

You grinned, opening up your inventory and removing your amour. “I just got really, really lucky.”

Grabbing an invisibility potion, you suddenly paused, a hint of uneasiness sinking in your gut. If Dream noticed any particles, you would be dead in an instant, and your plan would be blown to smithereens. You would have to move quickly to make it work—almost ridiculously quickly.

Swallowing, you opened your mouth. “Do you guys think we can really pull this thing off?”

Sapnap let out an easygoing chuckle, your shoulders relaxing in an instant. “Oh, I know we can.”

Letting Sapnap’s confidence run through you, you held down your mouse’s right key, downing the invisibility potion in one go before turning to rush out of the portal room. Through your headphones, you heard Dream let out an inquisitive hum, curiosity flickering through his tone. “Just what are you guys up to?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know, weather boy?” Sapnap fired back without missing a beat, his voice swimming with mischief.

While George let out a wheeze and you giggled at Sapnap’s sharp quip, Dream sighed, muttering, “So much for asking.”

Huffing out one last quiet laugh, the smile fell from your face, your eyes narrowing as your expression grew serious. You moved ever so carefully through the stronghold, weaving in and out of the labyrinthine halls like a snake on the hunt. Your gaze darted back and forth between the compass in your hotbar and your screen. With each sharp swing of the compass hand, you held your breath, turning until it was pointed forward again. You had been searching for a few minutes when suddenly, you spotted it.

A glimpse of green.

Dressed head to toe in enchanted iron armour, Dream’s avatar stood in front of a wall of furnaces, smelting away as he turned from one to the next. On the same wall was a crafting table and a chest. He was planning something, you just knew it, but you didn’t have the time to question what. After all, he was facing the wall opposite from you, completely unaware of your presence.

This was the perfect chance, and you weren’t going to waste it worrying.

Creeping forward, you stopped only when you stood just a single block away from him, switching from your empty hand to the enchanted diamond axe in your hotbar. With Sharpness IV, it would only take three critical hits for you to take him down.

For a second, all was still.

Then, you were pressing down on your space bar and clicking your mouse a half second later, watching with bated breath as Dream’s avatar twitched from your attack. One.

He had barely managed to turn around before you had already landed another hit on him. Two.

By the time he had pulled out his own axe and began scanning the seemingly empty air in front of him, you were slamming your finger down one last time. Three.

With a shout, Dream dropped dead before you, his inventory exploding into a mess on the floor at your feet. You blinked once. Twice.

Then, the call burst into a mess of screams and shouts.

Dream’s yell rang through your ears as George and Sapnap hooted in delight, Bad and Antfrost following with their own victory cheers. “What the heck?!” he cried, shock filling his every word. “[Y/N], was that you? Oh my god, where did you even come from?”

Practically gasping for breath, you nearly collapsed on top of your keyboard, the adrenaline slowly wearing off as you smiled triumphantly to yourself. “[Y/N], you did it!” Sapnap shouted, just as loud as before. “You—you just—holy crap!”

“I was so stressed,” you breathed, sagging against the back of your chair with a breathless laugh. “You have no idea.”

“You were awesome, so awesome,” George managed between giggles, his own voice sounding giddy and positively overjoyed. “I knew you could do it.”

Your cheeks half-felt like they were about to start hurting from how hard you were smiling, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care as Dream’s tired laugh filled your ears.

“Congratulations, [Y/N],” he murmured fondly. “You won.”

Just a week and a half later, you couldn’t believe your eyes as you scrolled through the comments section of the new video.

[y/n] was so funny omg

They made this manhunt feel so much more special

Their chemistry as a group was so good wtf!!!??!

please bring [y/n] back I am in LOVE

[Y/N] SUPREMACY

With each new comment you scrolled past, you felt your heart swell more and more in your chest with a mixture of joy and pride. You didn’t expect people to respond so positively to the video—to you.

You had barely made even a dent in the hordes of comments about you when a Discord notification popped up on your laptop screen. In a flash, you were pulling up Discord, quickly clicking on the appropriately named group chat, [Y/N] KILLED DREAM!!

Sapnap: hey

Sapnap: hey

Sapnap: hey did you read the comments

[Y/N]: i did! people were so positive!!

[Y/N]: i wasn’t expecting it

George: You weren’t?

You furrowed your brows, reading George’s question twice before typing once again.

[Y/N]: of course not??? i’m just some person

[Y/N]: you guys are the dream team

George: Don’t put yourself down like that

Sapnap: yeah everyone liked the video because they liked you

Dream: well then

Dream: how do you feel about coming back to film again?

You stared at your screen in awe, something hopeful and weightless rising in the expanse of your chest. Filming another video? With them?

You didn’t even have to think before your fingers were typing out a response.

[Y/N]: i would love to

Peals of laughter tumbled from your lips as you rolled over on your bed, your phone perched beside your head on your pillow. A split second later, a loud whine echoed from your phone speaker, and you found yourself laughing even harder, your lungs gasping harder and harder for breath with each giggle that was pulled from your throat.

Never in your wildest dreams would you have guessed that you would be here.

It had been nearly a year since the fateful day that brought you and the Dream Team together and a little over ten months since you had first filmed together. Now, three videos and countless streams later, you were closer than ever before, cracking jokes and pushing each other’s buttons like you had known each other their whole lives—maybe even longer than that. It took some prodding, but you even called Dream by his real name, now. As much as you liked the name Dream, Clay sounded much nicer, in your opinion. Texting daily was practically a sacred ritual now, and you couldn’t remember the last time you didn’t get spammed by their texts at least four times a week. Even now, as you lay on your bed with your phone connected to Discord at your side, you were chatting with them, grinning as wide as ever. It was a comfortably pleasant lull you had fallen into, the four of you—one that you wouldn’t mind spending the rest of your life sinking into.

It was comfortable indeed, but even as complete as you felt now, you felt like there was something missing—like there was a hollow cavern in your chest just waiting to be filled.

Yet another shout suddenly pulled you out of your thoughts, the noise sounding even more astounded than it had before. “How was I supposed to know that that was Russia?”

The sheer amount of shock in George’s voice immediately made you burst into another fit of giggles, throwing your head back. “There was Russian on the sign!” you managed between breaths. “It was so obvious!”

He sputtered at the sound of your laughter, sounding absolutely appalled by your reaction. “You can’t just expect me to be able to read Russian!”

You grinned, your voice dropping the tiniest fraction. “You act as if you don’t know how to say a few things in Russian.”

There was a moment of silence. Then, Sapnap whistled. “Touché, [Y/N]. You’ve got him there.”

While George groaned, surely smacking his palm into his forehead, Clay spoke up with a teasing hum. “You should play some GeoGuessr with us more often. You’re way better at this than George.”

“This is bullying,” came a distant complaint from George, his voice coming out muffled through his mic.

“It’s the truth,” you corrected with a cheeky grin. “You cannot deny that.”

There came a snort, followed by Sapnap’s gentle laugh. “Look at you, [Y/N], being so mean all of a sudden.”

You smiled lopsidedly, trying to push back the shiver that ran down your spine at the way his low voice made your insides melt. “You know you guys love it.”

“We do.” Clay’s voice almost sounded far away, muffled and hazy. “We really, really do.”

Your heart leapt into your throat as a soft silence washed over the four of you, your chuckles dying down and fading into the quietness of your bedroom. Sighing deeply, you picked at your nail, silently begging your heart to calm down again. It was right then when George softly piped up.

“Hey, [Y/N],” he said quietly. When you let out a small noise, he continued. “We… you would call us close to you, right?”

You laughed at the hesitancy in his tone. For a second, he almost sounded shy, and it sent butterflies fluttering through your stomach. “Do you even have to ask? We’ve been friends for months—of course we are!”

You could make out the faint sound of shuffling from Clay’s end, his icon flashing green. “Are—” He coughed. “Does that mean we’re close enough to ask you a… somewhat private question?”

You raised an eyebrow at his tone, your curiosity piquing. “Go for it,” you said gently, letting your eyelids flutter comfortably shut.

“Have you met your soulmate yet?”

In an instant, your eyes shot wide open again, and you lay frozen in your bed. In all the time you had known each other, not once had you brought up the topic of soulmates. It was almost as though you had simply skirted around it, too shy to press on about. But right now, with the topic lying right in front of your face, you couldn’t just avoid the topic.

Your fingers twitched as your mouth fell open. “N-No,” you stammered, the butterflies in your stomach going oddly still. “I, um, I haven’t. Have any of you?”

There was a pause. “No, none of us.”

You thought for a moment, your heart mulling over those four little words. Then, you exhaled and let your shoulders relax against the mattress, your nails curling into your palm. “I’m sure you guys have nothing to worry about,” you murmured almost hazily. “There are probably thousands and thousands of people who would love to be any one of your soulmates.” You chuckled, but it tasted bittersweet on your tongue. “Heck, there’s probably at least half a million fans who would be dying to take my place, right now.”

On the other end of the line, you were met with silence, but it was fleeting. “What about you?” Clay suddenly asked.

You blinked, your palm going slack. “Me?”

“You,” Clay affirmed, sounding more serious than before. “If you were one of our soulmates, how would you feel?”

The words left your lips before you could stop them. “Happy,” you blurted, suddenly feeling breathless. “So, so happy. I—”

You suddenly slapped your hand over your mouth, cutting yourself off with wide eyes. Realization struck you like a lightning bolt, and you could feel your blood run cold in your neck. I did not just say that.

“What—” George stopped. Then, a second later, he continued. “Which one of us would you want it to be? To be your soulmate?”

With trembling fingers, you moved your hand away from your mouth, your voice coming out small. “Are you asking me who I like most?”

He didn’t hesitate. “Yes.”

You almost felt your heart drop, bolting upright until you were sitting atop your sheets. Wrapping your hand around your phone, you balanced it on your lap, uncertainty springing up in your gut.

Who... I like most?

Dream, George, and Sapnap. Sapnap, Dream, and George.

To think that just a year ago, you had never spoken to them—had only ever known them as three strangers through a screen. Yet here you were now, their voices soft against your ear and your heart aching at the sound of their laughter. They made you smile beyond belief, and you wouldn’t miss a call with them for the world, even if it was three in the morning and you were dead asleep. Although you had spent time with each of them individually, just as friends did, you loved spending time with all three of them together far more, and you didn’t want to imagine having them any other way.

George, Sapnap, and Dream.

Who did you like most?

You swallowed, then opened your mouth. “I,” you choked out, “I don’t—I wouldn’t—”

You stopped, your heart pounding like a drum between your lungs. You could feel them waiting for you, as patient and caring as ever. The thought made you want to curl up into a ball and cry. Screwing your eyes shut, you sucked in a deep breath and whispered.

“I don’t think I could ever pick just one of you.”

The silence that filled the air as you closed your mouth was tense. A million unspoken words ricocheted off the insides of your mind, your heart racing within the confines of your chest. The air suddenly felt too hot, and you kicked the covers off your legs, curling your knees closer to your chest and resting your burning cheeks on top of them.

“Maybe this is a sudden thing to say,” Sapnap whispered abruptly, his words coming out slurred as he broke the silence, “but I really, really want to know what you look like right now, [Y/N].”

You felt your arms go limp around your legs. “Me, too,” George added, thoughtful and faint. “I bet you’re beautiful.”

Resisting the urge to bury your face in your hands, you ran your finger along the edge of your phone screen, the glass pressing against your hot skin. “I—um,” you began shakily, “you’ll see when we meet, okay? This way, two of us can stay a mystery.”

Clay’s soft chuckle rippled through your bedroom once more, bouncing off the walls and making your chest ache even more. “Alright.”

You felt your chest constrict with heat, feeling like you were almost about to burst at the seams from the way they were speaking. “W-Well,” you laughed, trying not to sound as panicked as you felt, “on that note, I think I’m gonna go to sleep now.” You opened your mouth to continue when a yawn cut you off, eliciting a string of laughs from your phone speaker. “I’m feeling pretty tired.”

“Sweet dreams, [Y/N],” George murmured tenderly. “Talk to you tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow,” you confirmed with your heart battering against your ribs. “Goodnight!”

Reaching over, you pressed your thumb over your phone screen, exiting the call just as swiftly as you had joined. That had been hours ago now, and while you were tired, you couldn’t shake the churning sensation in the pit of your stomach—twisting and turning as you laid back on your bed. You slipped your phone onto your nightstand, plugging it in in a forlorn haze before lying back once more. Staring up at the lonesome ceiling, you frowned, your heart suddenly feeling like an anchor in your chest.

Without even an inch of doubt, you knew: you liked them—all three of them.

And it was going to be the end of you.

Having a crush was a dangerous thing in a world full of soulmates, especially if they were online—even more so if you had multiple. You could only ever find out if someone was your soulmate if you met them in person, and you had heard far too many stories of couples meeting in person, only to learn that they weren’t fated to be. Combining that with multiple soulmate bonds slimmed the chances even further. Multiple soulmate bonds weren’t exactly unheard of, but they were rare. You had never met anyone who had one, and you doubted that you would be the first you’d know to have one.

You suddenly felt it—that familiar spark of hope you felt all those months ago when you sat at your desk chair with a shirt on your lap. The hope that drew you to them now was the very same hope that connected you in the first place. Your heart leapt, lapping up every last droplet like a man dying of thirst, yet with each new spark that rained down in your chest, the thought clawing at the back of your mind loomed larger and larger.

Just what exactly were the chances all four of you would be soulmates? It had to be next to nothing if it wasn’t zero already.

This wasn’t like the manhunt raffle—lady luck could only be so generous.

Rolling onto your side, you felt something deep inside you reach its hands up and wrap around your lungs, squeezing as tightly as it could. The ache that shot through your insides stung like a hot coal, but you knew there was nothing you could do to soothe its hungry flames. Unshed tears pricked the back of your eyelids like silver needles, and you squeezed your eyes shut, choking back a muffled whine. Your bedroom suddenly felt too big, your bed too empty.

Hope could be beautiful, but it could also destroy you from the inside out.

“Do not leave the call.”

Clay’s chuckle sent a frown skittering across your face, and you let out a small whine as you leaned forward in your desk chair. “Aww,” he crooned, teasing and light, “are you jealous, Georgie?”

“N-No, what?” George sputtered, and you could almost envision the way his cheeks would flush a pretty shade of baby pink. “Just—just don’t hang up.”

“I’m telling you,” Sapnap laughed with a sly lilt, his voice sounding a little more distant than Clay’s, “he’s jealous.” You vaguely could make out the sound of his signal light from inside his car, a muffled car horn echoing from outside. “Or at least if he isn’t, [Y/N] is.”

At that, you whipped your head up, blinking wide as you shot a glare at Sapnap’s Discord icon on the side of your monitor screen. “Well, [Y/N]?” Clay drawled, a flicker of mischief dancing in his tone. “What do you have to say about that?”

You curled your fingers into your hands, a small pout settling onto your features as heat shot across your face. “I—I am!” you said, your voice coming out a fraction louder than you intended. When the other line went quiet, you shuffled back in your seat, your cheeks burning even hotter. “I am jealous, okay? It’s... it’s just not fair that you two get to meet before we do.”

There was a brief moment of silence. You were being childish, you knew, but at least you were being honest. Suddenly, Clay spoke. “We know, sweetheart,” he said gently, not at all realizing how your heart skipped a beat at the pet name. “But you’ll be able to meet us soon. Just wait a bit longer, okay? I’ll buy you both plane tickets if I have to.”

You pouted with a dejected whimper, your finger drawing small circles onto the side of your desk. “Okay.”

“Don’t sound so sad,” Sapnap chuckled with a soothing coo. “As soon as we can get you two over here, we will.”

You let out a sigh, swinging your chair from side to side with a frown. Was it so wrong of you to want to meet them so badly, to want to see them and hug them? Part of you didn’t even care if you were all soulmates at this point—you just wanted to hear them laugh in person. You wanted to make them smile. Was that really so much to ask for?

“I see him!” Clay suddenly shouted. Your head shot up faster than a bullet, and you heard the sound of a front door opening and slamming shut. “Oh, Sapnap.”

“Oh, Dream,” Sapnap called mockingly, his smile shining through in his voice. There was the sound of the car engine stopping, then a car door swinging open. “Holy crap, you’re way taller than I expected.”

You chuckled at the surprise in Sapnap’s voice, hearing George laugh along with you. “Jeez,” Clay muttered, his voice overlapping ever so slightly with the mic on Sapnap’s phone. “It’s so weird actually seeing you in person, oh my go—”

All of a sudden, Clay went silent, cutting himself off with a strangled noise of surprise. On Sapnap’s end, there was a muffled choking sound, then nothing. In a flash, you were upright, your eyes wide and your hand flying to your mouse.

“Sapnap?” George called, his tone soaked with worry. “Clay? Are you two alright?”

There came a gasp, and you could make out the sound of Sapnap struggling to search for words. “You’re—Clay’s my—”

Just like that, it clicked, like a switch had been flipped inside you. You felt something in your chest deflate, and you opened your mouth.

“Soulmates,” you whispered so quietly that you would have missed it yourself, had you not been the one to say it. “You two are soulmates, aren’t you?”

George fell silent. “I think so,” Clay mumbled, his tone coming out as if he were in a daze. “I’ve never felt anything like that before in my life—it definitely feels like what everyone says, you know? Just, really warm, and.... and...” He trailed off, ending with an enamoured sigh. “Yeah.”

Your mouth felt as though it had been sewn shut, like you wouldn’t have been able to force the words from your lips even if you tried. “How did we not know after all these years?” Sapnap giggled, his voice swimming in a mixture of disbelief and affection.

“We’ve never met in person up until now,” Clay mused, his sentence rising at the end. “This is the first time we’ve ever seen each other, let alone touched.”

“It is, isn’t it?” Sapnap murmured back wistfully. The call suddenly went quiet, and a deep, disappointed quiet fell over the four of you. Not a word was said as the harsh reality slowly settled into your hearts.

Clay and Sapnap were soulmates.

Only Clay and Sapnap.

“I’m happy for you two!” George suddenly shouted, startling you in your chair. He sounded oddly chipper—too chipper. “I wish—” He suddenly choked, pausing for a moment to catch his breath again. “I wish I was already friends with my soulmate. Meeting new people is hard.”

“Who knows?” Clay chuckled. His words were teasing, but even they couldn’t mask how crestfallen he sounded. “Maybe [Y/N] is yours.”

“Yeah,” Sapnap hummed in agreement, the hopefulness in his voice sounding just as forced as his soulmate’s. “You hear that, [Y/N]? Maybe you and Gogy were meant to be.”

Your vision was hazy and unfocused, your gaze focused on the window in your room. In the corner of the glass was a small spider web, just barely the size of your palm. You watched with blurry eyes as a fly caught in the sticky web beat its wings in desperation, struggling helplessly as a spider crawled out from behind the windowsill. You distantly wondered how trapped that fly felt—if it knew that there was no point in hoping for anything better, now.

Turning away from the window, you focused your gaze down at yourself, down at the black shirt you were wearing. A clean white axe stared back up at you, and you felt a bittersweet smile stretch across your face as you uttered a single word.

“Maybe.”

A loud beep echoed from the ceiling speakers, and you jumped at the sound. All around you, people were bustling in and out of gates, towing luggage behind them as they rushed down the crowded pathways and between loitering groups of people. You whipped your head this way and that at the sight, your head spinning with all the new sights and sounds.

It was still hard to believe that just a few months prior, you wouldn’t have been able to step foot in an airport like this.

To see people move from one place to the next, seeing loved ones and meeting new people for the first time was almost exhilarating, especially after all that had happened with the world. You liked it, and you certainly hoped that it was here to stay.

You had just started walking down the main path when you felt your phone ring in your pocket. Fishing it out, your face lit up at the caller ID, and you picked up without waiting another second, pressing the cool glass to your ear with a smile. “Hi, George.”

“Hey!” he greeted with a cheerful tone. “Did you get here safely?”

Rocking back and forth on your heels, you curled your fingers a little tighter around the handle of your suitcase with a hum. “Yep.”

“Good.” You could hear the smile in his voice, and it sent a familiar tingle of warmth bouncing down your spine. “How are you feeling?”

You paused, your steps faltering for a brief second as you pondered. “Nervous,” you said after a moment or two, “but a good kind of nervous.”

“A good kind of nervous?” he repeated with a fond tone. “I think I know the word you’re looking for.”

Your lips curled up at his words, your mind flashing back to a distant day from long, long ago. “Yes, George, I’m excited.”

The laugh that fell from his lips sounded like pure music to your ears, and you caught yourself thinking that you wouldn’t mind drowning in the sound. “Me, too.” As you wove between a few sectioned off groups, George added gently, “You know where to meet us, right?”

You nodded with a small noise of confirmation, making a sharp turn down yet another long hallway. “Yeah—I’m pretty sure Clay and Sap are already waiting for us.”

George snorted, both affectionate and teasing at once. “Oh, I know they are. I’ll see you there?”

You grinned, bobbing your head along to the beat of your suitcase wheels rolling across the polished tiled floors. “For sure. See you there!”

Lowering your phone from your ear, you pressed your thumb against the screen before letting it drop into your pocket once more. A sigh escaped your lips as you let the ache you had been suppressing tumble loose, throbbing and gnawing away at the shaky shards of your heart.

How long had they known that Clay and Sapnap were soulmates, now? Five months? Six? You weren’t sure if you could even bring yourself to keep count, anymore. It hurt too much to think about. You were happy for them, you really were. But the selfish part inside you still longed for their touch, even if they wouldn’t ever truly be yours. It wasn’t that you didn’t like George, but you meant what you said—you couldn’t pick just one, and you wanted all of them, as greedy as it was.

Shaking your head, you pushed forward, your gaze darting up to the navigational sign hanging from the ceiling. No matter how painful it may be, you weren’t going to let your own heart get in the way of how amazing today was going to be. You were meeting your favourite people in the world today, and nothing was going to take that away from you.

Not even heartbreak.

Glancing briefly over at a map on the wall, you huffed as you dragged your suitcase up a set of stairs and through the corridor, chewing on the inside of your lip. George’s gate was on the opposite side of the airport from yours, and Clay and Sapnap were waiting in the middle for the two of you. His flight had arrived a bit before yours, so you knew you were just going to have to find all three of them together.

After another few minutes of walking, you found yourself walking into the central dome of the airport, the glass ceiling filtering natural light into the room as you wheeled your luggage in. Your lips parting in awe at the sight, you swept your gaze across the busy room, scanning over every head you could find. You had only been looking for a few moments when a head of dark sepia hair caught your attention. Narrowing your eyes, you shuffled forward carefully. Then, your lips split into a triumphant grin.

There they were.

In a heartbeat, you felt your insides melt at the sight. Sapnap and George looked as handsome as ever, their lips curled up into dazzling smiles as they spoke, and Clay—oh, Clay. This was the first time you would ever be seeing each other’s faces, but you didn’t have to see him to know that he was pretty. With tousled golden locks and emerald green eyes that flashed like gemstones, he was everything you could have asked for and more.

Chatting casually with one another, all three of them were dressed in comfortable clothes, and you wanted to fling yourself at them and bury yourself into their warm touch. Sucking in a deep breath, you marched toward them, slinking around so that you were facing their backs. Hugs could come later—right now, it was time for a surprise.

Treading slowly and carefully, you only stopped when you stood a foot behind them, the giddiness rising in your chest as you finally opened your mouth.

“Sapnap was right. You are tall.”

The three of them immediately whirled at the sound of your voice, their eyes as wide as saucers as their gazes locked on yours. The grin on your face only grew wider as you watched their faces light up in unison, like a set of stars coming together in the night sky.

“[Y/N],” they said at the same time, blinking wildly as you sent them a small wave.

You laughed. “Here I a—”

“We were right, too,” Clay suddenly blurted, bending over slightly. “You are beautiful.”

Your cheeks flushed with bubbling heat, and you felt your heart leap in your chest. “I—ah, um,” you stammered, taking a step back. “You look good too, Clay.”

Sapnap took a step forward, reaching his hand out toward you with a soft smile. “So, we finally meet,” he hummed, a brilliant gleam flashing across his eye. “Does this mean I get to hug you, now?”

You grinned, and with a giggle, you were leaping forward, your suitcase wobbling behind you as you let go. The moment you felt warm arms wrap around your backside, you felt yourself relax.

Then, your skin suddenly felt like it was on fire.

Warmth surged up your spine like a rippling flame, your eyes shooting wide open as you gasped, your fingers curling into the soft fabric of Sapnap’s shirt. In an instant, you were stumbling back, clutching at the space over your heart. You could feel it going absolutely haywire in your chest, pounding like never before. Your entire body felt as light as a feather, and your mind felt strangely hazy.

Impossible—it had to be.

“Sap,” you choked out, your eyes locking onto his own wide ones, “you—”

“George, Clay,” he suddenly said, reaching a hand out toward the two boys, “get over here. Right now.”

The two of them had been standing stock still just a few steps away, their jaws dropped and faces contorted with surprise as they watched you and Sapnap tremble across from one another. Swallowing, George took the first shaky step forward, reaching his hand toward yours. The moment your fingers brushed, the same tingling warmth crashed over you like a wave, and you let out a soft noise, happiness blooming in your throat like a blossom in spring. You watched with earnest eyes as George’s expression mirrored yours, his rosy lips parted in surprise as his fingers latched onto yours. The hope you had locked away months ago came pouring out of your glowing heart like a waterfall, overwhelming every inch of your senses.

“It’s not just us,” you whispered, your voice brimming with nebulous hope. “It’s George, too.”

George lifted his head, his breath hitched as he turned. “That just means...”

All three of your gazes landed on Clay, who was still frozen in place, stock still with shock. Your eyes darted to Sapnap’s, then George’s. You nodded in unison, and without saying a word, you stepped forward. You slipped your hand into Sapnap’s, your heart trembling with adoration at how big and warm his palm was against your own. Sharing one last glance with one another, you nodded. Just like that, you were slipping your hand into Clay’s, George following suit while Sapnap grabbed his.

In a heartbeat, everything felt perfect.

The empty cracks in your heart no longer felt as wide as they once did, instead flooding with burning warmth and something that felt like love. Your head spun with dizzying affection, and you felt your vision grow watery, but for an entirely different reason, now.

God, you loved them, you loved them, you loved them.

At your side, Sapnap’s hand shook in yours, surprise lacing his every word. “I can’t believe it.”

“A four-way soulmate bond,” George breathed, his own mouth twitching up into a lovestruck grin. “I—I never thought we’d have one. I mean, I always hoped but—”

Suddenly, Clay spoke up, his voice hoarse but full of sincerity. “W-Woah, are you crying? What’s wrong?”

In a flash, their eyes were on you, who had let go of Clay’s hand to press your palm against your eye. “N-Nothing’s wrong,” you said, your voice shaking with overwhelming emotion. “I’m just—I’m so happy.” A quiet sniffle bubbled up in your throat, but it didn’t stop the smile from tugging at your lips. “I liked you all so much and I was so scared that only George was going to be my soulmate, because you’re all so important to me, and I couldn’t just give you guys up like that.”

“[Y/N],” Clay choked out, his own voice starting to wobble, “stop, please. You’re going to make me cry.”

Laughing, you leaned against him, soaking into the warmth of his body as his arm instinctively wrapped around you. “Just—just cry with me, okay? We can all cry together.”

You didn’t need to say it twice. Not even a split second later, and you felt two more pairs of arms snake up around you, a nose burying itself into your hair as a cheek pressed against yours. “It looks like you won more than just one lottery then, huh?” Sapnap mumbled from above you, his chest rumbling against your back.

“Yeah,” George chuckled, his fingers lovingly rubbing small circles against your arm. “First the manhunt, now this. Just how lucky can one person be?”

You smiled, rubbing your head against Clay’s shoulder with a loving hum. “I don’t know what the universe was thinking,” you murmured, your eyelids fluttering shut as you gently rocked back and forth together, “but I’m glad I won. You three are the best prize I could have ever asked for.”

You felt a pair of lips press a soft kiss to the top of your head, your heart sighing in your chest. “I love you,” someone whispered, too softly for you to tell who it was.

All around you, the bustling airport kept moving, full of life and bursting with energy as the crowds flowed around you like a river. The world was still moving, the planet still turning beneath your feet as you embraced one another, warm and safe in each other’s arms. But in that moment, none of that mattered. A dazzling spark danced along the crevice of your heart, bright and warm and oh-so full of hope as you opened your mouth to whisper back.

“I love you all, too.”

[mochegato]

Jasonette Protection Program

Chapter 2

Chapter 1

Marinette pulled her coat closer around her as she made her way from the bus stop to her apartment.  She had made the brilliant decision when she moved here not to get a car because… Gotham.  The likelihood that it would get damaged or destroyed in some kind of attack was ridiculously high.  The likelihood the bus would get blown up or taken over, while definitely still present, was significantly lower.

But today she was regretting that decision.  It meant she couldn’t isolate herself like she wanted to.  It meant she was exposed to anybody and everybody at the bus stop and on the bus and on the sidewalk and any one of them could have been the one to drug her.  She eyed the people around her as she walked.  Okay, maybe not the woman who looked like she was in her 90’s and could barely walk… and dropped her knitting out of her bag.

Marinette rushed over to her and paused right before reaching her. She twirled around and scanned the faces around her.  She could feel somebody watching her.  She could feel their eyes scrutinizing her every move.  She studied the shadows and the windows, but couldn’t find anyone watching her.  She frowned slightly and shook her head.  She was getting paranoid.  She was seeing and feeling things that weren’t there.  

She sighed and turned back to the woman, crouching down to help her put her knitting back in her bag.  The woman smiled in appreciation, which Marinette returned with a shaky one of her own.  She walked the remaining few feet to her apartment building and took a cautious look up and down the dark street before turning into it.  She made sure she heard the click of the door latching before continuing up the stairs, not that it would do anything.  Logically she knew that, but her anxiety still demanded it.

She kept her eyes on the stairwell as she made her way up to her apartment on the top floor, eyes hyper vigilant for any movement, her ears hyper sensitive to any sounds from the stairs.  She got to her floor and paused for a few moments waiting to see if any sounds or movement indicated someone behind her.  She let out a relieved sigh when there was no noise and turned to her apartment before letting out a muffled screech.

Jason jumped, dropping his phone he had been scrolling on, in his rush to hold up his hands in a placating motion.  “Just me.  It’s okay. It’s just me.”  He watched her for a few seconds.  She was starting to breathe hard, her eyes were boring into him. “Although I just realized you may not remember me.  So this was actually an incredibly stupid plan.”  He took a few steps away from her door, his hands still held up to let her know he wasn’t a threat.

Marinette continued to stare at him for a few more seconds, forcing her breathing to slow.  “You… you’re Tim’s brother, right?  You… you were…” she squinted at him, “you were in my bedroom?”

Jason grimaced and looked down to the floor as he rubbed the back of his neck.  “Yeah… that doesn’t make me sound too good, does it?”

She eyed him suspiciously.  “What are you doing here?”  

He perked up slightly and gave her a small, reassuring smile. “I wanted to check on you and see how you’re doing today.  It can hit a day or a few days later sometimes.  And I’m a security expert.  I consult on it for people and companies.  I wanted to offer to check your security for you so you’d feel safe, at least when you’re at home.”  He turned to her door and knocked on the doorframe.  “I can already tell that you need better locks.  I could have broken in easily, but I didn’t think you would appreciate finding me in your apartment.”

She raised an eyebrow at him but let out a quiet chuckle and looked away after a few seconds.  “You would be right.”  She looked back up at him and tentatively walked over closer to her door.  “But, I don’t think I can afford to hire you.”

Jason waved off her concern.  “I wouldn’t let you.  I’d charge Tim for it.  He can afford it and he’s worried enough that I’m actually kind of surprised he hasn’t contacted me already, but I suppose that has something to do with him not wanting you to meet me in the first place.”

Marinette quirked her lips to the side and studied him.  The longer she watched and talked to him the more memories came back and the clearer they became.  She was slowly starting to get bits and pieces of the night before, not enough to create a coherent picture, just incredibly short scenes, a word here, a smile there.  Regardless of what she could remember though, this was Tim’s brother and although Tim didn’t want them to meet, he trusted him, not that she would ever be allowed to say that out loud to either of them.  

She finally nodded and pulled out her keys.  “Well, I can at least offer you dinner while you’re here. If you’d like.”  She gave him a small smile as she passed him into the apartment taking off her coat and dropping her bag on the small dining room table.

Jason raised his eyebrows in surprise.  After the way she had reacted when she saw him, he honestly didn’t think she would talk to him let alone let him into her apartment.  He was starting to understand how she could have gotten drugged so easily if she was that trusting.  But then again, Tim had said they all were being careful. Her even more so than the others. So why was she so trusting now?  “I would never turn down free food,” he said slowly.

He closed the door behind him with a quick glance at the inside part of the lock, confirming his original suspicions.  Standard issue, not particularly secure.  He could have picked it in all of three minutes when he was only eight.  He didn’t have to lean down to study the doorknob to know it was in worse condition. One good kick and the door would be wide open.  He sighed. If anyone wanted to get into her apartment, it wouldn’t take them very much effort.

He turned back to the apartment, letting his frown morph into a smile.  Her apartment was cozy and lived in and very much her.  There were touches of her everywhere along with some touches that he wouldn’t have expected.  He shook his head at the condition of the apartment.  It wasn’t terribly messy but it also wouldn’t count as anything close to clean.  He could see why she and Tim got along so well.  Neither could clean up after themselves to save their lives.  

There were bits of fabric and half completed sewing projects scattered around along with random pages of scientific reports.  He raised an eyebrow at that.  Odd combination.  His eyes caught on men’s shoes by the door.  He scrunched his forehead in confusion.  If she lived with someone, where were they?  Where were they last night?  Why hadn’t Tim mentioned him?  “You live with someone?  A boyfriend?”

Marinette looked up from the refrigerator.  “No.  Well, yes, but no.  I live with my best friend,” she explained quickly, “but he’s visiting friends this week.”

Jason nodded.  That was good at least.  She wasn’t living alone.  There was someone else with her usually.  That makes it less likely someone could just break in and attack her.  He moved over to the window and sighed again, more deeply this time.  It was worse than the door.  “No curtains. You should probably get some, preferably lined ones.  This lock is ancient too.  It wouldn’t take much to jimmy it.  We’ll get you new locks for your windows and your door.”

Marinette looked at him wide eyed as she set a bunch of grapes and a jug of filtered water from the refrigerator on the counter.  She hadn’t been expecting the locks to be that bad.  She knew it wasn’t amazing, but then again, she hadn’t really been too concerned about being specifically targeted here.  Nobody really knew who she was, or rather used to be.  She was just an average citizen here.  

She stared at the window for a few seconds, her head cocking to the side and her eyes unfocusing as her mind wandered through the possibilities of what could have happened and what still could.  She was no longer safe, not even in her own home.  But then again, she never really had been had she?  She had just thought she was.  She thought she was safer after they’d defeated Hawkmoth, but she’d just traded one danger for another.

Jason watched as her face morphed from one expression to another, her eyes distant.  Her face clearly displaying each and every emotion she was going through, no matter how flitting.  Jason could guess where her head went.  When her eyes started shimmering, he opened his mouth to bring her out of it when her phone rang.  She jerked back violently, knocking over the jug of water.  

She cursed as she tried to stop the jug’s descent only to knock it further away, further spreading the water.  She gave a defeated groan and grabbed a towel from a nearby drawer to start sopping up the water.  Jason jumped to grab a few more towels to help.  It took a few minutes, but they were finally able to clean up the water with a minimum of damage to papers left on the counter.  Luckily, none of Marinette’s sketches were on the island anymore but Adrien was definitely going to have to reprint some of his papers for research.

Marinette gave Jason an appreciative smile and threw the papers in recycling and the towels in the sink.  She let out a deep frustrated sigh as she leaned against the counter.  After a few seconds, she ran her hands through her hair and laughed.  Jason frowned at the sound.  It was short and mirthless and sounded utterly wrong coming from her.  He could see her starting to spin but didn’t know her well enough to know how to help.  God, he really hadn’t thought this through.

Jason very slowly started reaching for her so she could see his hands coming.  Shen she didn’t shy away, he set a hand on her arm to ground her.  She looked up into his eyes, panicked eyes meeting concerned eyes. They both jumped when her phone started ringing again.  They both chuckled quietly at their reactions.  

“Sorry…” she started but was cut off by another ring.  She shook her head at herself.  She hadn’t even noticed the original call had dropped.  She checked the caller id and smiled at the phone. “Hey Tim.”  She paused to listen to him.  “No, I’m fine.  I just… I knocked something over and was cleaning it.  Sorry for scaring you.”

She gave Jason an apologetic smile as she listened to Tim.  “I’m doing okay, I guess.  I think I’m just jumpy… and getting paranoid.  I could have sworn someone was watching me walk home, but when I looked nobody was around or rather nobody was paying attention to me.” She missed the slight grimace Jason shot toward the floor.  “No, thank you though.  Actually, your brother is here already.”  She smiled at Jason again and put Tim on speaker.  

“…that so.  That’s very thoughtful of him,” Tim quipped in a clipped tone.

“Yeah, he’s checking my locks,” Marinette continued, seemingly oblivious to the tension in his voice, or attributing it to his concern.  “Apparently my door and window locks are pretty bad,” Marinette frowned at the thought.

“Uh huh.  Well it’s just so great that he came over then,” Tim gritted out.

Marinette did a double take when Jason’s phone dinged repeatedly with an extended series of text notifications.  She blinked at it a few times before looking questioningly at Jason. He rolled his eyes and turned his phone off.  He met her eyes with a shrug and a wink as he sat at her island.

“Tell him I say hi and remind him he has plans with Bruce soon,” Tim continued tightly.

Jason huffed.  “Tell him to tell B, I'm not going on patrol until Demon Spawn calms down.  And tell him I’m sending him the bill for this.”  He motioned vaguely around them.

“Yeah, that’s fine,” Tim conceded easily before his voice turned harsh again, “And tell him…”

“You two do realize you can hear each other and you two both know you can hear each other and I know you can hear each other and I’m not an owl!” Marinette admonished them sharply.

The room was silent for a few seconds before Tim started chuckling.  “Sorry, Hermione.”

“Thank you, Harry.”  She nodded at the phone even though he couldn’t see her.

“Hey!  That makes me Ron?  What the fuck?” Jason objected raising up from his seat in offense.

“Oh come on, you’d look good with red hair,” Marinette teased him lightly.

“You better fucking not be Ron,” Tim growled.   “You’re more like Draco anyway,” he continued flippantly.

“Fuck you, Pretender,” Jason growled.

“Yeah, this is making me feel better,” Marinette sighed, leaning against the counter.

There was a guilty pause as the men took in her words.  “Sorry,” Jason finally spoke up after a while.

“What?”  Marinette gave him a curious look until realization set in.  “Oh!  No, I was serious.  You two remind me of my friends.  It feels comforting, normal.”

Tim waited a second before speaking up cautiously. “So… you’re okay for tonight?  You feel safe?”

Marinette smiled at the phone again.  “Yeah, Tim.  I’m okay.  Thanks for checking on me.”

“Of course.  Let me know if that changes.  I’ll be over in three minutes flat,” he promised.

Marinette grinned mischievously.  “Do I get a free pizza if you take longer?”

Tim huffed out a laugh.  “Absolutely.”

“Sweet.  I might test it just for that,” she teased him.  “Night, Tim.”

“Night.  And tell Jason to turn his phone back on before I do it for him.”

Marinette rolled her eyes.  “Still not an owl,” she singsonged before she hung up.  She looked over to Jason with a concerned smile. “Do you have to go?  It sounded like you already had plans?”

Jason waved her off and took the battery out of his phone before leaning against the counter near her.  “I have plenty of time.  Like I said, if I show up now De… Damian is going to attack me.” Marinette’s eyes widened in concern but Jason waved her off again.  “It’s fine. He isn’t as tough as he thinks he is. He wouldn’t be able to hurt me, but Bruce would yell at me for it and Dick would give me his disappointed in you lecture.  It’s better for everyone if I stay away for a few days.”  

He grinned and crossed his arms over his chest. “Tim just doesn’t want me stealing his friend away with my superior looks and charm.”

Marinette scowled lightly at him.  “Tim is very handsome and charming,” she insisted defensively.

Jason shot her a devilish smile.  “But not as much as me, right?”

Marinette scoffed at him and rolled her eyes.  “You certainly seem to think so.”  She rinsed some grapes and set them in a bowl between the two of them. “But he’s the only reason you’re here right now.  If you weren’t Tim’s brother and we hadn’t met last night when you were fairly respectful of me in my… state…”

“Fairly!?” Jason squawked.

“I’d have called, well, not the cops, but Tim, to take care of you,” she continued over him.  She grabbed a grape and chewed on it while she watched him appraisingly as she leaned back against the counter opposite him.  “Do you make a habit of stealing his friends?”

Jason shrugged and grabbed a few grapes.  “No, we generally move in different…” he searched for a nice way to phrase it, “circles.”

She hummed in response.  “And yet here you are, willingly entering in a circle with one of his friends.” She eyed him pointedly.  She quickly broke their eye contact to look down and cross her arms over her chest protectively.  “Thank you for breaking into this particular circle to help me out. Last night spooked me more than I want to admit.”

“Did you want to talk about it?  Or pretend like it never happened.  I can help with either,” Jason offered.

Marinette stared at the grapes for a while without talking. Jason was certain she was about to start spiraling again when she spoke up quietly.  “I was keeping an eye on my drinks.  I only took my eyes off of them when I was around people I trusted and we weren’t exactly close to other people for someone to just slip something in.”  She frowned and looked at nothing in particular. She poured herself a glass of water and held the rim of the glass against her lips without drinking it as she remembered the night before.  “I don’t know which scares me more, that someone was that good to get it in with all of us there or…”

“That one of the people you trust might be responsible,” Jason finished for her after a few seconds of silence.  When she looked up to meet her eyes, she looked so shaken and uncertain, he wanted to pull her into a tight, reassuring hug, but after the night before, he wasn’t sure a virtual stranger’s embrace would be the most reassuring.  He settled for moving to lean against the counter next to her so their arms were almost touching, but she still had her personal space.

“Yeah,” she said wrapping her arms around herself and rubbing her arms.  

“You think you were the intended victim?” he asked curiously.  He and Tim had already discussed the night and decided that she had to be, but he was curious what her thoughts were.  “You don’t think it was just opportunistic.  You think whoever was with targeting you.”

She shook her head and looked down, frowning at the floor.  She gripped her arms tighter.  “I don’t know.  I was never alone and I only drank with my friends at our own table away from other people.  I mean someone at the bar could have drugged it before it was brought over when the waitress brought drinks but…”

“How would they know who it would go to,” Jason finished again.  “Seems unlikely they’d risk the drug like that if they didn’t know who it would go to. If they didn’t have a plan to get the person out.”

Marinette looked up at him anxiously and nodded.  She studied him for a few more seconds before she shook herself out of her daze.  She looked up at him with a fake smile.  “So what are you feeling for dinner?  I can make some pasta.  I can do stir fry.  I can whip up a casserole.  What do you want?”

“I’ll be happy with whatever you feel like having tonight,” he assured her with a smile.

“I don’t… really… feel like eating,” she mumbled, looking away again. “This is more something for me to focus on instead of last night.”

Jason gave her a gentle smile and lowered himself to her level, trying to gain her attention.  “Look, I know you don’t know me but why don’t we order take out and we can watch a movie, or if you want to be alone, I can leave.”

“I don’t want to be alone,” she answered quickly, instantly looking over to him with a desperate look in her eyes.

Jason nodded slowly and gave her a gentle smile.  He rested his hands lightly on her arms to reassure her he was there and not going anywhere unless she wanted him to.  “That’s understandable.  I wouldn’t want to be either.  Do you want me to call Tim over?  I know you probably feel safer with him and when he can’t be here in three minutes, you get a pizza.”

She gave him a wan smile.  “No, I trust you.  And I’m not really feeling pizza right now.”

Jason smiled back.  “I want to joke and say that’s a terrible decision, but now doesn’t seem like the best time.” She gave him a deadpan look that made his grin widen.  “I’ll save that for later,” he finished with a wink. His expression quickly turned serious as he watched her.  “You should eat though.  What kind of food do you want to try?  There’s a good Indian restaurant around the corner.”

She looked away.  “I don’t want to order out.  I don’t want food that I…”

Jason nodded and moved closer again.  “Yeah, that’s reasonable.  Let’s make something together, yeah?  I saw some eggs and milk in your refrigerator and there’s bread on the counter.  How do you feel about breakfast for dinner?  French toast sound good?  I think you call it Lost Bread?  And how do you feel about Clueless?”

“The movie?” she asked confused.

“Yeah, adaptation of Jane Austen’s Emma.”

“Fan of Alicia Silverstone or Jane Austen?” she teased weakly.

“Both,” Jason answered with a wink.

Marinette snickered and nodded.  “That all sounds amazing.”  She moved away to start getting the pan and bowls out, watching him while he got the ingredients prepared.  “Thank you, Jason.  You have no idea how much this means to me.”

“No problem.  We’ll get things figured out so you can feel safe, or at least as safe as you can feel in Gotham,” he assured her, and himself.  They were going to find who drugged her and make her feel safe again.  Whoever it was messed with one of Tim’s friends, one of the few he really trusted, that means whoever it was messed with his family and nobody messed with their family.

Tags:

@jasonette-july-event @maribatserver @aespades @demonicbusiness @read-fantasy-to-escape-reality @jayjayspixiepop

[the-lighwood-who-lived]

Hurts Like Hell- Hold on Pt.2

SUMMARY: part two to the previous fic 'Hold On I still need you'. Stark's gone. Y/N has all her energy put into getting this show on one last time- at Tony's funeral. Ending of Endgame with Y/N as the youngest avenger, and the only miracle who ever got Steve and Tony to agree.

‘Hey Y/N’ said Clint. I looked up at him from the bed where I sat. Pepper had come in a while ago, getting me and Morgan dressed in a plain black knee length dress. I didn’t have the energy- or mind- to do it on my own. ‘Hey birdbrain’ I said, trying to smile, but failing almost instantly. Clint, who was at the doorway, ran up to me in embrace, his Lila being my age and one of the few I trust, he knew me.

‘I’m sorry’ I whispered over and over. It was one of the things Tony taught me- emotions make you vulnerable. ‘No honey, I’m sorry- we couldn’t save him’ Clint said back. ‘I missed you’ is all I said… I can’t even say it… he’s gone… I won’t see him again… I – I just can’t…

‘I missed you too, all of us did’ said Clint, he held my shoulders and looked at me as he continued, ‘ Lets put on this show one last time Y/N, for Tony, for his funeral, and for Steve… he wants to help, and he can’t take it that he doesn’t know how’ he explained slowly.

I nodded as I looped my arm through Clint’s and we walked out. All of them were there- well, except one very sly smirk and a beautiful read head. Steve came to me as soon as I walked out the door. I wasn’t one to show emotions, I was taught by Tony- no surprise there. But none the less, I didn’t care who was watching, I hugged Steve, my arms clasping around his middle. The others were slightly taken back by the display of affection, but Steve reciprocated the hug in no time. I could here his heartbeat, hoping there were a few others still making that sound.

I walked slowly, each step feeling heavier, to the living room of Tony’s home… where he his message would be played. He knew- how dare he accept it- he knew! I sat on the couch, Steve’s arm on my shoulder and Morgan by my side.

The projection flickered a bit, before I turned into the man who we gathered here for. There he was- smiling, hopeful, alive.

‘Everybody wants a happy ending. Right? But it doesn't always roll that way. Maybe this time. I'm hoping if you play this back, it's in celebration. I hope families are reunited, I hope we get it back and something like a normal version of the planet has been restored, if there ever was such a thing. God, what a world. Universe, now. If you told me ten years ago that we weren't alone, let alone, you know, to this extent, I mean, I wouldn't have been surprised, but come on. The epic forces of dark and light that have come in to play. And for better or worse, that's the reality Morgan's gonna have to find a way to grow up in. So I thought I better record a little greeting, in the case of an untimely death, on my part. I mean, not that death at any time isn't untimely. This time travel thing we're gonna try and pull off tomorrow, it's got me scratching my head about the survivability of it all. Then again that's the hero gig. Part of the journey is the end. What am I even tripping for? Everything's gonna workout exactly the way it's supposed to.’ He paused, the image moving closer to me and Morgan.

He pointed at Morgan and said , ‘You, are my greatest creation’ and then he paused, it seemed as though Tony was right there, looking me in the eye, he said ‘And you Y/N, are my greatest treasure’. He moved a step back, almost like he was turning off the recorder, but said one last line , ‘I love you both 3000’.

And just like that he was gone.

That was his final memory… no more…

I slumped back on the couch, feeling myself shatter into a million pieces , an empty void inside me… Pepper let out a tired breath. ‘Living is a fickle thing, death making it precious. Death is a cruel thing, making the living defenceless.’ I said humourlessly as pepper held in tears.

Steve held out his arm and we head out to the lake. A beautiful wreathe with a arc reactor in the centre- ‘Proof that Tony Stark has a heart’ it said… Pepper placed it on the water, soft ripples making its way out. I looked at the arc reactor as it drifted away, muttering under my breathe, ‘ I loved and I loved and I lost you…And it hurts like hell…’

That day, that moment, I saw what grief is, in every soul standing there, in every Avenger, every hero, I saw it.

And everyone was there.

It was over almost as suddenly as it happened. I sat over the ledge looking out on the lake. I heard footsteps behind me, Steve. ‘I know what your going to do’ I say quietly. ‘Return the stones’ Steve said.

‘Don’t bullshit me Rogers you know what I’m talking about’ I say, the Stark in me showing. Steve however, didn’t react, he took a deep breathe and sat next to me. And to my other side, I was joined by Bucky. ‘Hey Nova’ said Bucky, calling me by the name the world knew me by. ‘Getting bold aren’t you James?’ I say, not much enthusiasm behind my words.

We sat in silence a while. ‘I’m selfish enough to want you to stay, but I love you enough to know to let you go Steve….’ I say after a while. That was one of the last things I wanted to do… lose Steve too…. But few years in the past is another woman, hoping and praying he’d come back. She should get her happy ending. Steve started to speak, but I got up and walked away.

I stood by Bucky, back in gear as Steve took the last of the Pym particles and got ready for his one trip. I don’t think anyone else knew…

‘1…2…3..’ said Bruce, Steve disappeared. ‘3…2…1…’ Bruce said, counting seconds to when Steve returns- I turn away and start to walk off. He’s not coming back and I don’t want to witness it.

As I walked away I heard the chaos and confusion behind me, probably just Bucky trying to choke Bruce. I went back to my spot at the ledge, where little Morgan stood playing with a high-tech boat. ‘Morgan’ I said in a sing-song voice. Her head snapped to my direction. ‘Y/N!’ she giggled as I made my way to her.

I sat by her and held Tony’s greatest creation as close to me as I could, the creation I’d protect with my life. We sat there a while, talking about cheese burgers and juice pops.

I don’t know how I didn’t notice, being trained by Nat and Clint, but it took me by surprise when someone swung their arms around mine and Morgan’s shoulder. Naturally I elbowed whoever it was before pulling Morgan into stance behind me. I could see Thor, Bucky, Clint, Wanda… the whole lot a bit further behind.

The person got off the floor chuckling, ‘Guess it’s my fault I snuck up on an international spy.’ He said. I smiled as I felt the wait of the sky off my chest.

‘Steve?’

[annab-nana]

Bookshelf Confessions - Peter Parker

Peter and MJ are caught in the middle between a relationship and a friendship, a situationship if you will. There are definitely some feelings between the both of them, but when she overhears Peter talking to Ned about them in the library, she pulls you in to listen in with her and the conversation takes a turn you both didn’t expect.

A/N: Hi guys! So this was a late night tiktok inspiration. Here is the video I got it from and I changed the words up a bit to better fit how Peter would talk and to better describe MJ as well but anyway, I hope you enjoy! Oh also, if you guys really want it, I could do a part 2 to this but we will see :)

Part 1 of Books Tell Secrets and Lies

Warnings: some curse words

Word Count: 3.2k+

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“Ned, I need to talk to you,” Peter whispered to the boy as he grabbed his arm and pulled him between a couple of bookshelves in the library. School had just ended, and the mop of brown curls dragged his best friend all the way to the room filled with books and resources as soon as class had been dismissed.

Though it was a library and you were supposed to be silent, the way Peter was being exceptionally quiet and almost secretive obviously caught the eye of an observant and nosy Michelle Jones. She was about to join the pair, but upon noticing that her boyfriend—if you could even call him that—seemed to try to be hiding something from her, she stopped. If Peter ever had a problem, he would round all three of you guys up to discuss it, needing all of the brilliant sound minds of his buddies to help him make a decision. So, when he was only talking to Ned without you and her included, she got a weird feeling and hung back behind the shelf next to them to eavesdrop.

You were minding your own business as you searched for a book to write your English report—which you thought was ridiculous that you already had a big assignment to complete when it was only the second week into your senior year but that was a topic for another day—and you were walking past the aisles to find where the fiction books of author’s with the last name starting with Z would be found when a hand reached out to grip your arm and tug you into a nearby aisle. You were about to protest until you saw it was only your harmless yet curious best friend. Before you could open your mouth to ask why the hell she dragged you here, her hand quickly but silently covered your mouth, prohibiting you from speaking at all. Her other hand came up to her own mouth as she placed a finger in front of her lips signaling you to be quiet. Rolling your eyes, you grabbed your phone.

Y/n: ??

She pointed towards the bookshelf and you heard the mumblings of one Peter Parker, the top of his head hard to miss when it was peering above the dusty books that lined the metal shelf.

You, MJ, Ned, and Peter made quite the friend group. Though you all were fairly different, your similarities brought you together and you loved having them by your side. What made it even better is that when MJ and Peter started their “relationship”, it didn’t mess up the dynamic at all. You all still hung out and you and Ned weren’t uncomfortable with their closeness at all, though you both did want to know if they were actually dating or not.

Since the Europe trip, they have been a lot closer. There was no denying that. You and Ned both have seen the stolen glances and holding hands under the lunch table. There was something going on there that they didn’t want to let on or they were just simply happy being together more often.

When you heard about Peter’s plan to woo MJ over the summer, you’d be lying to yourself if you said you were not a little disappointed. You were ecstatic for MJ, but your heart longed to be in her place. He had looked to you for help in making her swoon since you had been her best friend for years and while you would always help Peter no matter what, it hurt to see him in awe of another girl. Once you found out that MJ felt the same towards Peter and you knew his plan would work, you pushed those thoughts and feelings to the back of your mind, far where no one could find them. You had been a tad upset for a moment, but when you saw how happy they were, there was nothing more you could do but support them.

You still were confused as to why you both were hiding from your friends behind a bookshelf before MJ started typing furiously on her phone to text you.

MJ: peter is being hella sus and i wanna get to the bottom of it

Y/n: you little detective

MJ smirked at you as you both leaned in a little closer to hear better.

“I’ve been hanging out with MJ,” Peter started, running a hand through those beautiful chestnut curls and focusing on Ned who was smiling innocently and nodding along to the conversation. “Everybody thinks we’re dating because I spend my weekends hanging at her house and watching movies or whatever.”

“Yeah,” Ned chuckled, clueless to where the conversation was heading as were you. MJ had a deep feeling in her gut that it would lead to him telling Ned he wants to break up with her even though they were not actually together, but she wasn’t quite sure that was all he had to say.

“She’s on the decathlon team, one of the smartest people I know, and she’s could even be prom queen if she wasn’t so against it.” Both the boys lightly laughed at that as you all knew MJ too well. You had to hold back your giggle while you and MJ shared an amused look before continuing to listen in on the conversation.

“While we study chemistry, there’s a little more chemistry between us if you know what I mean,” you watched the bashful boy sputter while pink dusted his cheeks. You looked to MJ who found the floor to be much more interesting than your gaze at the moment.

‘You guys fucked? And you didn’t tell me,’ you mouthed after placing your fingers under her chin to make her look up at you. Her eyes widened and she shook her head profusely before mouthing back, ‘no, just made out a lot.’ That put your heart at ease a bit yet you still weren’t fond of it, but Peter’s next words caught the attention of you both.

“But I have a secret I must confess,” Peter sighed, eyes flitting down almost as if in shame. Your eyebrows furrowed while your puzzled expression met MJ’s worried one. Your hand reached out to grab hers and your thumb rubbed smoothly over her knuckles, a small gesture you knew provided her with much comfort and though she was trying not to show it, you knew she was getting anxious.

“It’s not her laugh or the way she’d dress. She’s not the reason I’ve been thinking about love,” he muttered with his head still down. Ned let out a light gasp at what he was hinting at and your heart broke for MJ. You tugged at her hand and tried to step forward to lead her out of the library, this conversation being one she did not need to hear, but she remained put. She gave you a sad nod as if saying ‘it’s okay y/n’, so you conceded and stayed with her for emotional support. But you knew the second she left, you would rip Peter a new one if she hadn’t done it first.

“Every weekend we hang out, I lose my cool when she’s around over stupid little things that shouldn’t even bother me,” Peter stated with a huff, angry with himself because of how he felt. If he could love MJ and not feel at war with himself and his feelings, then that is what he would do but he was growing tired of the constant battle in his head and in his heart. “And I don’t know if this is just a crush.”

So, he liked someone else for sure because that was the second time he mentioned something like that. You were growing angry with the boy and you knew that even if he possessed superhuman abilities, your rage would overpower him. Your eyes mixed with sadness and anger sought out MJ again to check on her. She was remaining closed off as always, but she had begun to open up a bit more recently and Peter’s actions were putting her back where she was.

“How do I find the words to tell her,” Peter paused, eyes darting around before meeting Ned’s, “that I’m in love with her best friend.”

You and MJ both stiffened and for some reason, you felt uncomfortable holding her hand now. You were doing it to comfort her as you always have, but you were the girl her ‘boyfriend’ was in love with. Your wide eyes remained trained on Peter and Ned as you waited for them to further confirm your suspicions.

“Y/n?” Ned gawked at his best friend. He had zero clue that Peter felt like this, but he did know you had a small crush on Peter when y’all were formulating the plan to get MJ to fall in love with him. Ned had seen the way you looked at Peter and one day, he saw the tears that brimmed your eyes before you excused yourself to the bathroom, Peter too focused on perfecting each step to see that you were distraught. Ned left as well to go ‘get something from his locker’ and he found you fanning your eyes dry and blowing some air out to calm yourself.

“You like him, don’t you?” Ned questioned as you turned around to hide your embarrassment. You were crying over Peter Parker while helping him get with your best friend. It was silly.

“Hey,” he spoke calmly as he placed a comforting hand on your shoulder. “You don’t have to hide from me. I saw the tears before you left but y/n, why are you helping him with this if you know he will end up with someone else? Doesn’t that hurt?”

“Yes, it hurts like hell but what am I supposed to do? Tell him I like him?” you spoke sarcastically but of course, he took it literally.

“Yes! That’s exactly what you should do,” he encouraged while you shook your head.

“I can’t do that to him, Ned. He is head over heels in love with MJ. Anyone with eyes can see that and though she will not let anyone know, I can tell she has a crush on him too so who am I to get in the way of that? They will be happy together and I will get over him. I will be okay, Ned,” you told him as you quickly wiped away your tears.

“Promise you’ll be okay?” Ned inquired, holding out a pinky for you to link yours with his. The childish act made you smile, and you did just that.

“I promise as long as you don’t tell him.” Ned nodded in agreement and you two unlinked pinkies. “Now I am gonna actually go to the bathroom to make sure I look fine, and I’ll be back,” you informed him before heading into the restroom.

“Yeah, Ned. I fucked up. I am going to ruin the whole group and their friendship. MJ will hate me and so will y/n for hurting MJ,” he sighed, leaning against the shelf to his right and keeping his eyes down. He felt so bad for this, but this was how he felt and he could not keep lying to MJ.

“Peter, you’re an idiot if you think they’re gonna let you ruin their friendship. They were best friends before you and they will be best friends after you too. You’re starting to sound like Flash,” Ned giggled while Peter shot him a glare, quietening him for a moment. “Sorry, but you should’ve come to this revelation back in June. Things would’ve been a lot easier.”

You had forgotten that they didn’t know you were there, and MJ was about to hear that you had been in love with her fling for a while and didn’t tell her. Again, you tried to get her to leave to spare her from hearing any more, but her feet remained planted. She was not going anywhere and if she wasn’t, you weren’t either. So, you stayed and listened beside her.

“What do you mean by that?” Peter quizzed and Ned’s eyes widened, realizing that he said too much. He let out a sigh before giving in and telling him.

“Y/n’s... kinda been in love with you since before the summer. I don’t know how much before, but she liked you when we were planning how to get MJ to fall in love with you during the Europe trip. I saw her tear up once and then I found out.”

MJ’s hand dropped from your own, her face reading shock and hurt when you looked at her. You felt like shit and you hadn’t really done anything wrong. Maybe you should have told her that you used to have a crush on Peter, but it seemed irrelevant since they were closer, and you never stood a chance so why add drama when it wasn’t needed? She took a couple of steps back before walking to leave the library, leaving you to follow.

“MJ, wait,” you called after her, but she was long gone. Tears filled your eyes as you watched your best friend storm away through the hall where you stood from the library’s entrance. You could have followed her further, but you knew MJ and you knew she’d rather be alone right now.

“Y/n...” you heard the faint voice of Peter whisper from behind you, a warm hand clasping over your shoulder as you turned to look at his freckled face. Under any other circumstances, you would’ve been thrilled to hear that Peter had liked you back, but your best friend’s heart was broken by him because of you as well and you just wanted it all to be fixed.

“You really had to tell him. I promised you I’d be okay if you didn’t tell him,” you spoke to Ned, choosing to ignore Peter’s presence in front of you for the moment.

“I’m sorry. It slipped and I couldn’t get out of it. I didn’t know you guys were right there.” He was right. It was not completely his fault. You two were invading on their privacy. You can’t help what you hear.

“Y/n,” Peter repeated, and your tear-brimmed eyes snapped to his honey brown ones.

“What?” You did not mean to come off angry, but you were aggravated to say the least.

“Are you okay?” he asked genuinely. The softness of his voice and eyes were pulling you in but you were so irritated with him at the same time.

“No,” you whispered, breaking your promise to Ned as he did to you. Peter stepped forward to hug you but your hand on his chest stopped him. “You can’t comfort me anymore. Do you realize what you have done? You have broken MJ’s heart, a heart I didn’t know was capable of breaking. If she sees us hugging, that will just drive the knife in deeper. You hurt me by dragging me into the middle of all this and because I didn’t tell her that I liked you, she probably hates me too.”

Saying that last little bit broke your heart. Your best friend probably hated you. Your crush liked you back, but you could not be with him which was more infuriating than longing for him from afar. You felt angry, upset, and exposed as your biggest secret was out. All the emotions whirled within you and you did let a few tears fall.

“Y/n, I’m sorry. This was not my intention nor how I wanted this to go at all. I’m so sorry,” he softly spoke before trying to hug you again as he desperately wanted to comfort you. He hated to see you upset. This time, you let him. You let your arms circle his waist and your head cry into his chest. You let him wrap his arms around your neck and press his lips to your head, something he had always done when trying to calm you down. You felt like you would have no friends left if you pushed Peter away so why do it? The reason why you should have spoke up and broke you two apart in an instant.

“Wow,” she muttered, saddened brown eyes dancing between you and Peter. “I came back because I wanted to talk this out before I stayed in my room and was left alone in my head, but you know what? I don’t really feel like talking anymore.”

“No! MJ, wait! Please!” you tried to stop her but her cold eyes and raised hand warned you to give it a rest.

“I’ll let you know when I’m ready to talk but until then leave me the hell alone.” And with that, her head of unruly brown crinkles and curls left the building of Midtown for the weekend.

The interaction made you feel even worse as a sob bubbled up your throat. You had never been like this with MJ, and you were scared you were going to lose her forever. Your hand flew to your mouth in an attempt to muffle the sound of you crying and Peter was quick to wrap his arms around you again, but now, you shoved him away.

“No, Peter! Can’t you see what this has done? We can’t be together. I don’t want to see you until MJ and I are on good terms and maybe not even then. I just...” you backed away towards the door, “I need to be alone. Ned, I’ll text you later.”

Ned nodded at you with a sad smile and held his pinky up toward you, his silent way of asking if you were okay similar to the promise you two had made months ago. While the action caused your lips to turn upwards only slightly, you shook your head to answer the question. He understood and he and Peter both watched you leave as well.

“Well, I guess I was wrong. You can come between their friendship,” Ned spoke up, trying to lighten the mood with a joke that was way too soon for Peter to enjoy if he ever would.

“Ned, not now. I’ve accidentally broken two girls’ hearts and they both happened to be my best friends. I feel like shit,” he groaned, rubbing a frustrated hand down his face. “I’m just gonna go on patrol to distract myself and then swing home.”

“Okay well, I’m gonna bring this to y/n and check on her before going home. I’d check on MJ too, but she scares me so I’ll just text or call her later,” Ned chuckled while holding up a copy of The Book Thief, the exact book you were hunting prior to the whole fiasco. “But you need to figure out what to do. You can’t ruin their friendship. I understand if they don’t want to be friends with us, but you can’t tear them apart.”

“I know, I know. I really fucked up,” Peter huffed while stuffing his hands into his pockets. “I don’t know what I’m gonna do but I’m going to fix this.”

“You better,” Ned stated before he left the school himself. Now all of his friends had left and were angry with him in different ways. He crushed MJ’s heart and then he crushed yours even more by unintentionally making your best friend hate you. Ned was more disappointed than angry, and he felt bad himself for spilling your secret. This whole thing was a huge mess that Peter had to fix to bring his favorite people back together and he was beginning to wish he had just kept his mouth shut in the first place.

Part 2: A Chemical Aquaintance ->

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[poguesrforlife]

Young and Beautiful | Rudy Pankow

So after you lovely people were so kind to my previous fics and I gained a 1000 followers !!!! (still not believing it tbh) I wanted to give you a little something something. This idea has been in my head for a week now but it’s gonna be looooong so prepare yourself for a series! I love you all and thank you so much xoxo

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4

Trigger warning: A little bit smutty but just really intense passion!!

Word count: 1,226 words

Y/N just got the role of her lifetime, starring beside the cast of Outer Banks in the second season as JJ’s love interest. It’s a dream come true and gets even dreamier when she meets Rudy Pankow her alleged love interest. Lines start to blur between reality and film and Y/N is left wondering if taking a leap of faith is worth risking her career. 

Your whole body felt like it was on fire and drowning in ice-cold water like-wise. You couldn’t remember the last time somebody made you feel like that. The thought that this wasn’t actually real was pressed to the very corners of your mind as you stared into Rudy’s eyes, his shirtless form hovering above you. God, he was gorgeous. When he looked at you like that and touched your bare skin with his slightly calloused warm hands, it was too easy to forget all the cameras and people around you. But all this was just in your head and you were playing your part just as he did. How you wished in that moment it would be true.

When you got the call that you got the role for JJ’s love interest in the second season of Outer Banks you were ecstatic. You had watched the first season in a couple of days and already fell in love in it and when your agent had mentioned that you might be considered for a part in the next season you couldn’t contain your joy. A couple weeks later you were on set and met the rest of the cast. They were all lovely and welcoming to you but you couldn’t help but feel like a bit of an outsider since they had already grown close to a real family in the first season. But you made the best of the situation and couldn’t be happier to be surrounded by all these amazing human beings. You shared an apartment with the Maddies in Charleston and you girls had the most of fun after shooting was over. The boys were just as lovely and sweet and you couldn’t believe how you got so lucky.

And then there was Rudy. Already during your chemistry read, the tension could be grasped all through the room. It was clear to all the casting directors that you would be a perfect fit. Rudy and you hadn’t spend a lot of time together outside of shooting except when the others were around too. You got along great though, a bit too great. 

Every time the two of you ended up alone you couldn’t help but feel nervous and your heart was beating three times as fast. You told yourself that it was just a crush, seeing that he was ridiculously handsome. You both were professionals after all. 

When you started filming romantic scenes however the feelings got worse, way more intense. You were sure he felt it just as much as you did. After every screamed ‘cut’ you couldn’t even look at each other because the tension was running too high.

You knew he was just playing JJ and you were playing Y/C/N but it all felt way too real when he stared deep into your eyes with his baby blues. 

You kept it friendly and platonic all through shooting but today would be yet another challenge. Today would be the first kiss scene that would quickly lead to a more intimate scene in the bedroom. You tried to not let it bother you too much but your nerves were running high nonetheless.

“Okay Y/N, Rudy! You just had an emotional fight, your feelings are simmering right underneath the surface, you’re screaming at each other and then…” Valerie Weiss made a dramatic pause, “JJ kisses Y/C/N passionately!” She grinned at the both of you.

You took a deep breath and gave Rudy a hesitant smile when the two of you got into position.

“You okay?” He inquired kindly and squeezed one of your hands softly.

“Yeah…” You sighed and smiled genuinely, “We’ll rock this, right?” 

“Oh absolutely,” He grinned and winked at you playfully. This didn’t really help the butterflies erupting in your stomach.

You nodded and waited for the ‘action’ and acted out your scene flawlessly.

“I’m just trying to understand, JJ! Why do you always push me away?” You screamed at Rudy, or JJ in this case, and tried to convey as much desperation as you could. 

“It is none of your business Y/C/N, that’s why. You can’t fix everybody, you know? Especially not me!” Rudy screamed right back at you, tears prickling at the corners of his eyes and you had to admire his acting skills.

“I don’t want to fix anything. When are you gonna get it into your thick stubborn head that I care about you?” You were moving close to him, hands fisted in his shirt as you tried to get him to look at you. One hand went up to his cheek, “JJ, look at me,” You whispered softly and could feel your own tears rolling down your cheeks.

Rudy’s eyes met yours, the colour of the ocean looking back at you with such intensity that your breath caught. It felt like time stood still as you stared into each others eyes, like you were the only two people in the universe. Damned be all the cameras around you and people on set. 

He nodded once, as if preparing himself for what came next. Faster than you could process his hands were on your cheeks and he pulled you close to him.

Lips crashed on lips and you could feel the sparks literally igniting between the two of you. Your mouths moved desperately, always trying to get closer and closer. Your hands wandered around his neck, into his hair and pulled slightly. His mouth opened and his tongue slipped out to caress your bottom lip to silently demand entrance which you granted. 

Kissing Rudy was like feeling fireworks in the place where your heart should be. He tasted of sweet lemonade and mint gum that the both of you had chewed before the scene, joking about it. But this, this was no joking matter anymore. This was a feeling you had longed for all your life and you couldn’t believe you had finally found it. Kissing Rudy was pure ecstasy.

“Guys! Guys, I said cut!” The director’s voice roped you back into reality and the two of you finally broke apart, catching your breath.

You were still entangled in each other, hands everywhere they should not be in this second, and breathed heavily as your foreheads rested against each other, eyes locked.

Rudy’s pupils were blown, darkening his usually so bright eyes into dark dangerous hues, and his cheeks were flushed a beautiful rosy red. You were certain you must’ve looked quite similar.

“Well, if that wasn’t a kiss!” You heard Chase celebrating from the side and the both of you finally broke apart. 

Too late you realised that you hadn’t even heard Valerie when she screamed ‘cut’ the first time. The embarrassment of the situation slowly crept up on you. But this time you didn’t look away from Rudy, quite the opposite. And he was staring right back at you, eyes wide and mouth slightly agape. 

“That was sheer perfection! I think we actually already got it!” Jonas stated after a discussion on the scene.

You weren’t sure if you were happy about nailing it on the first try or sad because that meant no more kisses for now. All you knew was that you craved Rudy’s hands back on you and his lips locked to yours. By now you realised that you were entering dangerous waters.

[elminx]

Energy Update: October 2021

October is a “6” Universal Month {10(October) + 5 (2021) = 15 = 1+5 = 6}. For most of us, the quiet introverted energy of the number 6 is going to be a deep breath of relief after September which with its 5 energy made us feel like we needed to scurry, hurry, and do away, even when there was nothing left to do.

6 Energy is in perfect alignment with the harvest season as it encourages home, support, empathy, and even stillness. 6 carries to pause of expectancy, much like you experience within the Inguz rune. Within the 6 energy, perhaps, we can find the balance we would otherwise be sorely lacking this Libra season.

The Setup

The Sun, Mercury, and Mars are all in Libra heading towards a stellium (conjunct of three or more planets) that will peek slightly after our Libra new moon. Venus is ahead of the gang in Scorpio. Mercury, Jupiter, Saturn, Uranus, Neptune, Pluto, and Chiron all begin this month in retrograde. This is the nadir of retrograde season. The air is hazy, perceptions may be a bit off. Sink into the 6 energy by spending time in your home – go deep with your space. That will be an antidote to this energy all month long. This is a great month to do a deep seasonal clean. Donate the things that no longer serve you. Hold a seed, plant, or clothing swap. Get together with your loved ones to have a good meal. Stay close to home. Mercury retrograde in Libra is going to bring a lot of the retrograde tension into our relationships to remember to make space for conflict and try to find a solution that fits all people involved. Watch out for stickler issues around people-pleasing and unhealthy compromises. You can refer to my post about Mercury in retrograde for those details.

There are big shifts happening this month, we will end the month with the Sun and Mars in Scorpio, Venus in Sagittarius, and with Pluto, Saturn, Jupiter, and Mercury stationed direct. When the planets stand still while they station, it can feel like life is also standing still. We will be going into and out of this retrograde fog until Mercury and Jupiter station direct on 10/18. I reiterate: you may feel helpless to affect anything outside of your immediate home right now, but you can always have an effect on your home. Tap into the 6 energy to make your home a perfect haven for you and your others.

As Saturn begins his ascent forward again, he will tighten the ongoing square with Uranus in Taurus – this is our force paradox beginning to re-exert the vice grip we’ve been stuck in all year long. If you feel like you can’t make any headway, know that you are right on time.

The Nitty Gritty

This month we are being asked to sink deep into the root of it. We are at the end of a cycle, during the new year our lunar nodes will transition from the Gemini-Sagittarius axis to that of Taurus-Scorpio. Something deep inside all of us needs to shift to accommodate these changes that are happening all around us. This is a time to go slow and really tune in to your own rhythm.

This month has a lot going on: we will experience two cardinal T-squares between Aries-Libra-Capricorn, 1 Air Grand Trine between Moon-Mars-Jupiter, 1 Air stellium of Sun-Moon-Mercury-Mars in Libra, three planetary ingresses, and four planets that station direct and out of retrograde. Every one of our planets are fully engaged in this transformative moment.

The MVP for the month is going to be Pluto in Capricorn. Here we see echoes of all of 2020 but most specifically last Autumn when Mars went retrograde in Aries and squared off with Pluto in Capricorn. Now, one year later, in the opposite sign, Mars will do so again alongside the Sun and Mercury. Pluto is also, ironically, the first of the planets to move out of retrograde. He also rules one of our two cardinal T-squares of the month. Some outdated form or structure needs to die. Agreements are being tested. Loyalties are being questioned.

Mercury and Pluto clash twice more this cycle: they square off while they are both retrograde on 10/1 and then later when they are both direct on 11/2. These are part of a series of ongoing cardinal squares we’ve been experiencing since the very beginning of 2020. The Sun squares Pluto on 10/17 and Mars squares Pluto on 10/23. Additionally, our full moon in Aries on 10/20 is overshadowed by an intense cardinal T-square as the moon in Aries squares off against Pluto in Capricorn and opposes retrograde Mercury in Libra. All of these dates should be approached with a reasonable amount of caution. Pack your patience and expect some explosions. Pay special attention to when Mars and Pluto square off in the sky – those are fighting words. It may be difficult to escape the adrenaline rush of quick reactions but it is wiser during this time to step back and sit with things before leaping.

Again, the 6 energy of October can really support Sun and Mars in Libra’s ideal of everybody getting an even slice of the pie. Dig into this. Where are you taking too much? Where are you not giving enough? Start small this month – look at your own body. Think about how you take care of yourself. Or, if you are more inclined, take a deep look at how you are taking care of your living space. Check on all of your plants. Do a roommate-style check-up with any humans that you live with. Spend some time with your pets. Come back to center by grounding yourself in your safe home, in your body, in this moment.

Mercury makes two additional trines to Jupiter in Aquarius during its retrograde cycle while both are retrograde on 10/3 and later when both are direct on 11/1. This is a fast-moving transit but can provide insight and luck when needed.

As the first full week of October progresses, the Sun, Mercury, and Mars fall into line for a stellium that lights up the sky when joined by the moon on 10/6. This is a big power day. If you have been looking for a day to find your new path, this one is it. Just remember, Mercury is still in retrograde so you may see your path only to have it obscured in the mists again. Look towards 11/6-11/7 when Mercury will again conjunct Mars (this time in Scorpio) for a day to put this new path into action.

On 10/7 Venus enters Sagittarius and the mood will get marginally lighter. Venus in Sagittarius is mutable fire energy – she wants you to let your heart roam. You might find yourself more interested in trying new things and going on adventures while Venus is in the sign of the archer. The excitement of Saggy bear energy will get tamped down quickly by the retrograde haze so don’t expect to follow through on those beautiful but whimsical plans anytime soon.

The weekend of 10/8-10/10 is a great time to take one big cosmic pause. Stay home. Say no. Take a bath instead. The Moon, Venus, and the South Node will make a brief conjunction at 02° Sagittarius just as Venus goes out of bounds. A planet is considered out of bounds when it goes above the tropic of Cancer, or, in this case, below the Tropic of Capricorn. These points reflect the plurality of the solstices and Summer-Winter connection. Planets that are out-of-bounds can be hard to reach – you may find it harder to access your feelings of empathy or may be down on yourself more about your physical appearance while Venus is out of bounds. This may be especially rough for our Venus-ruled Libras who are already undergoing an intense Mercury retrograde transit in their chart.

Be wary here. There’s a lot of prickle to the world these days and something about Venus going out of bounds right now reminds me a bit of checking out instead of dealing with what is going on in your own life. That won’t cut it through this year – through these hard aspects – you really need to settle in and do the work. There is so much to be gained right now by showing up and staying aware with yourself through these adjustments.

What is coming up during this time needs to be addressed. With so many personal planets involved, something close to home needs attending to. This weekend and really the whole month would be very counter-indicated for going away. Watch for who runs rather than showing up. On Sunday, Saturn stations direct at 06° Aquarius – this immediately reactivates our Saturn-Uranus square and tensions will begin to rise a bit. This is a long-term aspect that doesn’t resolve until the end of the year so there’s not much to do other than observe it now.

We experience our second cardinal T-square on 10/12 as Mercury retrograde in Libra squares off with the Moon in Capricorn and opposes Chiron retrograde in Aries. This is a major pain point, something that has been brought to light during this Mercury retrograde cycle.

This Mercury-Chiron oppositional peeks on 10/18 and will continue strong for another week or so. Mercury’s post-shadow stretched through the rest of October and into November, remember that we need to retrace our steps back through Libra before the lessons of this retrograde cycle will be fully revealed.

Mercury is joined by Jupiter going direct also on 10/18 – this is a go day. Do it. Make a difference. Make a plan. Make a list. You are supported.

The energy should shift drastically as the Sun enters Scorpio on 10/22 and Mars follows on 10/30. We might feel a bit like we’ve jumped from one deep pool to another as Scorpio season hints immediately at its own depths and the eclipse season that comes with it.

Our sweet Air Grand Trine happens on Monday 10/25 when the Moon in Gemini lines up briefly with Mars in Libra and Jupiter in Aquarius. This is another go day. Think big. We are starting to feel the pull of forward momentum now that some of the retrograde fog has lifted. The last week of October holds the lightest energy of the month – again, ironically.

As if we are walking this month backward, like Merlin. Spirit reminds me that he was another traveler who walked the low path.

All in all the energy of the month is going to be dense and prone to internalization. How you perceive that and how comfortable it makes you have a lot to do with your personal chart and comfort with self-reflection. Watch out for emotional regulation or disassociation especially around any of those harsh aspects between the moon, Mercury, Mars, and Pluto. Watch out for denial and rose-colored glasses – the world is trying to tell you something for a reason – it’s time to stop ignoring your gut instincts. It’s the time for you to show up every day, as often as you are able, for yourself.

Good Days: 10/2, 10/6, 10/8, 10/13, 10/16, 10/18, 10/25 Caution Days (Saturn square Uranus): 10/14, 10/21 Caution Days (Cardinal squares): 10/1, 10/3, 10/12, 10/17, 10/20, 10/22 Fuzzy Days: 10/6, 10/10, 10/18, 10/26

The Aspects

Please keep in mind that most aspects have an effect for a number of days before and after the day of exactitude, listed below. I have bolded aspects the require particular attention.

10/1 – Mercury Rx in Libra square Pluto Rx in Capricorn, Mars in Libra opposed Chiron in Aries 10/2 – Venus in Scorpio sextile Pluto Rx in Capricorn – sweet days 10/3 – Mercury Rx in Libra trine Jupiter Rx in Aquarius, Sun in Libra opposed Chiron in Aries 10/6 – Dark Moon at 13° Libra conjunct Mercury Rx and Mars, Pluto SD 10/7 – Venus enters Sagittarius 10/8 – Sun conjunct Mars 15° Libra – where do you need to move forward in your life? What motivates you? How can you be the best version of who you are right now? 10/9 – Sun conjunct Mercury retrograde, Mercury retrograde conjunct Mars, Moon square Jupiter Rx, Moon sextile Pluto Rx, Moon conjunct Venus and the South Node 2° Sagitarrius, Venus OOB – here you may really see where you are out of alignment with your path here. You may have to return to something you think that you’ve outgrown (Venus conjunct South Node). See warning above about Venus OOB 10/10 – Saturn SD 10/11 – Mercury opposed Chiron begins – this close aspect will last for the next 15 days, its a pain point that is being reactivated by this Mercury retrograde cycle – these to planets will stay within one degree of conjunction from 10/15-10/20 10/12 – Moon in Capricorn square Mercury Rx in Libra, Cardinal T Square – CAUTION – this is another one of these days that is going to light up that long-term fight. You know the one. 10/13 – Venus in Sagittarius sextile Saturn Rx in Aquarius 10/14 – Sun in Libra trine Jupiter Rx in Aquarius, Moon conjunct Saturn in Aquarius, Moon square Uranus – CAUTION – the Sun meets Jupiter while the sky is tense with our Saturn-Uranus square. Don’t pick that fight. 10/16 – Mercury Rx in Libra sextile Venus in Sagittarius – a way through, seek out freedom for everybody 10/17 – Sun in Libra square Pluto in Capricorn – CAUTION – go slow 10/18 – Jupiter SD, Mercury SD, Mars in Libra trine Jupiter in Aquarius, Mercury opposed Chiron – go days – get it. 10/20 – Full Moon at 27° Aries, T Square between moon in Aries, Pluto in Capricorn, and Mars in Libra – CAUTION. Take things slowly today. Watch your temper. Remember to pick your battles. 10/21 – Moon square Saturn, Moon conjunct Uranus – CAUTION, go slow 10/22 – Mars square Pluto – CAUTION, go slow. Take a break. Stay home. 10/23 – Sun enters Scorpio 10/25 – Air Grand Trine between Moon in Gemini, Mars in Libra, and Jupiter in Aquarius – go days, get it. think big. 10/26 – Venus in Sagittarius square Neptune Rx in Pisces – foggy 10/30 – Sun in Scorpio square Saturn in Aquarius

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[stayndays]

𝐢𝐧𝐟𝐚𝐭𝐮𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝 - 𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐠 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐧

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

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

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

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

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

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

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝐳𝐞𝐫𝐨, 𝐚 𝐟𝐞𝐰 𝐝𝐚𝐲𝐬 𝐛𝐞𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐞

Bang Chan does not have a crush on you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Chan nods timidly.

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

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

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

“Pleasure doing business with you, sir.”

𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝐨𝐧𝐞, 𝐦𝐨𝐧𝐝𝐚𝐲 

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

It all starts with a carton of banana milk.

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

Two birds hit with one stone. Simple as that.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“WhydidIdothatwhydidIdothatwhydidIdothatwhydidIdothat-”

“Chan?”

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

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

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

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

That love potion you drank was not meant for you.

You are not his crush.

𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝐭𝐰𝐨, 𝐭𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐝𝐚𝐲 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Don’t look at me-”

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

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

And there you are, walking right towards them.

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

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

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

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

𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐞𝐞, 𝐰𝐞𝐝𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐝𝐚𝐲

Chan thinks you’re going crazy.

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

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

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

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

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

“You know I’ll get sick if I-”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hey! Answer my question!” 

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

𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝐟𝐨𝐮𝐫, 𝐭𝐡𝐮𝐫𝐬𝐝𝐚𝐲

Chan is a shy person when it comes to affection.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“But-”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Fine, you can sleep.”

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

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

You don’t know that, though.

𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝐟𝐢𝐯𝐞, 𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐝𝐚𝐲

Bang Chan is not good with love. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You’re jealous, and Chan can tell.

𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝐬𝐢𝐱, 𝐬𝐚𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐝𝐚𝐲

Chan tends to forget instructions.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“It’s because of Y/N.”

“Y/N?”

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

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

No. Chan’s crush is right.

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

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

𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝐬𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧, 𝐬𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐚𝐲

Chan loves you. 

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

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

It all lines up.

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

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

“Dense? Am I really?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You simply weren’t sure anymore.

𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝐞𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭, 𝐦𝐨𝐧𝐝𝐚𝐲 

Chan has not seen you for the entire day.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

His next words surprise the both of you, however.

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

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

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

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

“Love?!”

“Mhm.”

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

“Mhm!”

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

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

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

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

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

[lihikainanea]

The Accident - Part 2

Oh, hi there. Do you like...need something? Are you waiting on me for something? Whatever could it be? 

:-P

This is one of my longest pieces for them, Parts 1 and 2 clocking in at somewhere around 17,000 words.

Tiger has a car accident and has some pretty lasting damage.

Trigger warnings: there’s mention of a car accident, a few broken bones, and of course, the after effects of the accident. I didn’t go into detail on any of it but as always, if you think I missed a trigger or if you’re not sure and have questions before you read, just shoot me a line :-)

This one was a long time coming so I hope you enjoy. Thank you all, from the bottom of my heart, for being so loud about it when I needed the support and encouragement to finish it.

Part One is here.

Thank you guys, for loving these two idiots as much as I do. Enjoy, and be loud if you love it xoxo

****

You swore that you had never seen any of these people before in your life. You knew that Bill had spoken to them beforehand, warned them that you looked a little banged up and that you wouldn’t recognize anybody, and while part of you was annoyed the other part was pretty thankful. He hadn’t mentioned it to you, but he had also warned them that you got frustrated and overwhelmed pretty easily, and that you still couldn’t handle loud noises or bright lights. No music, no loud conversations, no coming at you from all angles. They promised him that they would keep it small at the beginning—just the close group of friends—and they would set up quietly in the living room for at least an hour, just chatting and answering any questions you may have before other people arrived.

“There’s going to be eight people when we get there,” he had told you in the car, “The rest will come after.”

“I’m nervous,” you admitted softly, fidgeting with your coat, “I want so bad to remember people.”

“You won’t kid,” he said. He had meant it kindly, but you bristled. He sighed.

“Tiger listen to me,” he put the car in park and turned to you, “If at any point you want out—for whatever reason—you say so, okay?”

You nodded, but it wasn’t enough for him.

“I mean it,” he brushed a lock of hair behind your ear, “Just look at me and like…tug your ear or something. Say pineapple. Anything. Just give me a sign and I’ll get you out, deal?”

He held out his pinky.

“Deal,” you mumbled, hooking your finger around his.

“Seal it,” he commanded. He held his thumb out to tap yours, but instinctively you leaned forward and pressed your lips softly to his. When you pulled away, you were both wide-eyed.

“I’m sorry,” you stammered, “I don’t know why I just did that.”

“No no, it’s okay,” he grinned wide and happy, “That’s uh, how we used to seal it. Good job, kid.”

“Right, of course we used to kiss to seal it,” you sighed, but there was some humour behind it, “Look bud, maybe there’s still a lot I need to learn about us, but it sounds like we got some shit we need to figure out.”

His wry smile ended the conversation, as you unbuckled your seat belt and took a deep breath.

Your friends were incredible about the entire thing. The music was on very low when you walked in, nobody rushing to greet you but instead saying a polite hello and giving you space. Bill took your jacket from you, hanging it up in the hallway closet before leading you to the living room. Your friends were gathered there—sitting on the floor, on the sofas, on chairs placed across the room. You wondered how to break into conversation, but Bill eased you into a chair and put a hand on your shoulder.

“So we figured it would be helpful,” he started, “If everyone just re-introduced themselves to you. These are our closest friends, tiger.”

You surveyed the group, kind faces and easy smiles staring back at you.

“That would be great,” you gave a sheepish shrug, “I’m sorry, I don’t remember any of you.”

Your comment wasn’t met with judgment, and thankfully you noted that it wasn’t met with pity either; just understanding nods and reassuring smiles. Bill took a seat next to you and you shot him a grateful look, but there was a clambering as someone—a guy, not as tall as Bill but still somewhat handsome—dove for the seat on your other side. He smiled at you but it instantly made you uncomfortable—something in the way he leered, the way he kept his gaze fixated on you, struck a bad chord. You shrugged it off, focusing on the person speaking as they went around one by one to introduce themselves. They told you a bit about who they were, how you had met, what they did in life. You snickered at some of the memories of you they shared, looking to Bill who would nod in confirmation that it did indeed happen.

But sure enough, when it came around to the man on your right, as he introduced himself he placed a hand high on your thigh and squeezed. You stiffened immediately, a jolt of discomfort shooting through you for a reason you couldn’t name, and you grabbed onto his wrist and lifted it from your leg.

“It’s nice to meet you,” you said curtly, placing his hand back by his side.

Not wanting to overwhelm you or make you feel like you were the centre of attention, after initial introductions were made, the small crowd dispersed to mingle amongst themselves. You chatted with a few of them and your heart swelled at how kind they seemed to be—you felt safe. Nobody was judging you, nobody looked worried or anxious around you, nobody regarded you strangely when you would ask them for details about your own life. Bill always stayed in your line of vision but didn’t hover, even allowing himself to relax a little when he heard your laughter ring crisp through the air.

It was only when you took a small break from chatting; when your stomach rumbled so you headed to the snack table, grabbing a chip and scooping it through the dip—that you heard him call out.

“Tiger wait!” Bill said rushing to you. You paused, your mouth open in preparation for a bite, your hand stilled in mid-air.

“What did I do?” You asked cautiously. 

“You hate green onions kid,” Bill said. You looked at the chip, drenched in the dip and absolutely smothered in green onions.

“Maybe—” another male voice rang out behind you, and before you could even turn around there was an arm around your shoulder, “Maybe we let her decide what she likes, for once.”

It was the same guy as before, the one who just seemed a little too close or a little too forward. It was the first time you had ever seen Bill actually look mean—his shoulders squared, he stood just a little taller, his jaw clenched and the glare in his eyes was terrifying. You didn’t remember who this guy was, you honestly couldn’t say how you had felt about him before—but in that moment, you hated him. You hated him just for the sheer reaction that he seemed to incite in Bill.

“Try them,” the guy coaxed, knocking your hand gently, “You’re a whole new girl now. Maybe there are things you’ll start to like, some things you’ll stop liking too.”

Bill’s jaw ticked. You watched his reaction carefully, how alert he seemed, how angry he seemed—and you trusted it. You didn’t know why, but you did.

“Okay, first of all,” you grabbed the guy’s arm, lifting it from your shoulders, “First of all, I trust Bill. I hate green onions. Second of all, stop touching me.”

“I’m sorry,” he replied, “We used to do this all the time.”

You didn’t look to Bill for confirmation—you didn’t need to. If you had, you may have seen the way his fists clenched, the fire that flashed in his eyes. But it wasn’t even necessary.

“I doubt that,” you snapped, glaring at the guy. He huffed a little, gave a cocky smirk, before turning and getting lost in the small crowd.

“Thank you,” you said to Bill, and his shoulders relaxed as he let out a breath. Still holding the chip in your hand, you grabbed his arm and dragged him to an empty room, closing the door behind you.

“Tiger is everything—“

“I still want to try this,” you held up the chip, “I just didn’t want to give him the satisfaction.”

Bill smiled, a big one that relaxed his whole face, and shook his head wistfully.

“Go on then. But for the record, when you get your memory back, you cannot blame me for it,” he chuckled.

“I hate green onions?” You asked, for confirmation.

“Tiger, hate is too gentle of a word.”

“I trust you. But I’m still curious, so…” you trailed off, popping the chip in your mouth. Bill pursed his lips to stop the snicker, crossing his arms as you chewed thoughtfully.

“I mean, I don’t hate them right now,” you said after awhile, “I don’t love them, but I don’t hate them. I’m…indifferent.”

“Noted,” he smirked, “I feel like I should have caught that moment on video.”

And you couldn’t resist—that boyish smile on his lips, the protective streak you had seen in action. You quickly tugged on his shirt, dragging him down for a deep kiss. His hands came to rest on your hips, squeezing softly, but all too soon—you heard him inhale sharply, a soft moan to it, and he pulled away.

“We should get back,” he mumbled. You nodded, a little disappointed.

And maybe it was that you were finally getting to see Bill in a situation surrounded by other people—the way he still always looked out for you, the way you caught him glancing around the room every once in awhile looking for you. You saw how everybody genuinely seemed to like him, how much he stood out from the rest of your friends. Maybe it was the way that you recognized how safe you felt in his presence—especially around other people. You caught yourself actively looking for him too, seeking him out just for that reassuring smile of his or that small boost of confidence you got from it. Maybe it was the way that he checked in with you so often that night, making sure you were okay, that you felt alright and you weren’t getting too overwhelmed. It might have been the way that this was the first time you had seen him in nicer clothes; jeans that hugged his long legs so perfectly, a fitted long sleeved shirt that was rolled to his elbows. He was cleanly shaven, his sharp jaw line making his profile unmistakable. A loose curl flopped casually on his forehead and you found yourself trying to hold back from giving it a playful tug. He smelled fantastic, he looked even better, and the way he calmly fussed or looked out for you the entire evening had caused a knot to start forming in the pit of your stomach.

Maybe it was also the recollection of a real good dream a few nights before, one involving him that seemed more like a memory than a dream—the way he knew your body, the way he knew what you liked. Maybe it was the comfort and the warmth that you remembered from a few nights ago, when you had crawled into his bed—how safe you felt, how comforted you were. Maybe it was the soft press of his lips against yours both that night and this night in the car before you entered the party, how warm and timid and plush his lips were. Maybe it was the kiss that ended far too soon, earlier in the night.

Either way, whatever it was, by the end of the night—your body was screaming for it.

You had tugged on his sleeve when you had enough at the get-together—more people were arriving, the noise was getting louder, and your stress levels were starting to rise.

“Time to go?” He said immediately when you appeared at his side. You nodded—and within an instant he had your coats, calling out a general goodbye to the crowd, and then you were safe in the car and on your way home. 

But he was just so close—you could still smell the faint scent of his cologne, and you tried to listen as he murmured soft praises to you. That he was proud of you, that you had done so well, that this was a big step. You drank all of it in—his velvet voice with the soft lilt to it, the beauty of his profile, his big hand on the stick shift as he confidently switched gears. After awhile, it got to be too much—so you reached out, resting a hand gently on top of his.

“Thank you,” you said, “For tonight. And for uh, everything.”

And there it was again, the small dimple in his cheek, his boyish lopsided grin. By the time he had parked in front of your place, by the time he had put a hand on your back to lead you gently up the stairs—you couldn’t take it anymore. You were ready to explode.

“Bill, um…” you stammered. His brows furrowed in concern but when he tucked a knuckle under your chin, raising it to meet his eyes—you lost control. Fisting a hand in his shirt, you pulled him down and crushed your lips to his. He squeaked in surprise but you didn’t let up, stepping into his chest as you pulled him closer. You moved your lips firmly against his, his hands coming up to rest on your hips before looping around your back, crushing you to him as you moaned into it. Your feet lifted off the ground as he pressed you more into him and you returned his fervour, raking your hand through his hair.

“Tiger wait,” he broke away suddenly and you wobbled, “We can’t.”

“Yes we can,” you said breathlessly, launching at him again. He stumbled back as he caught you, your mouth slamming onto his in another heated kiss. You tugged at his jacket, pulling it from his shoulders before you grabbed the hem of his shirt and started to pull it up.

“Tiger,” he stopped, actually pushing you away from him to put distance between the both of you. He dragged his hands over his face, letting out a shaky breath that sounded more like a wheeze. “No.”

“Yes,” you insisted, stepping towards him but he took a step back, “Bill, I want to.”

He held up his hands when you reached for him again.

“Tiger, no. We’re not doing this. I’m not having sex with you. You don’t even remember how you feel about me.”

“You’re right, I don’t,” you agreed, “I’m sure I was attracted to you before. But regardless, I can tell you one thing, I’m sure as fuck attracted to you now.”

“Tiger—”

“No. Listen to me, Bill,” you interrupted, holding your hand up authoritatively. “You are hot as hell. You really are. And you’re very kind. And frankly—I need to get my bell rung real good.  Real good. There’s a lot of…needy feelings happening in me right now that I need to get out. The fact that I don’t remember having sex with you does not at all take away from the fact that I want to have sex with you right now.”

“I don’t want to take advantage of you,” he mumbled lowly.

“How is this taking advantage of me?” You asked,  “People have one night stands all the time. I don’t need to know you to have sex with you. The fact that we do have a history is just an added bonus.”

“Tiger—“

“Bill, look. It really is this simple. I do not remember ever having sex with you. But you are very attractive, and I am very attracted to you, and I would like to have sex with you right now. I’m horny. I need to get laid. And it can either be you, or it can be that guy at the party who seemed pretty enthusiastic about touching me. I’m offering it up to you first. Who’s it gonna be?” You challenged.

Bill’s eyes narrowed.

“Oh it’s gonna be me kid,” he seethed, “It’s gonna only be me.”

It was all that you needed, before you launched yourself at him and yanked his shirt over his head.

“Promise me that you want this kid,” he urged between heated kisses.

“I want this,” you murmured against his lips.

“Promise me that you’re genuinely attracted to me,” he whispered, nipping at your top lip.

“Bill, I want to fuck your brains out. Me. Right now. With zero memories. This girl, right here, wants to be all over that.”

He groaned, grabbing your face in his hands as he pressed his mouth to yours. God, he could kiss. His lips soft but insistent, his tongue flicking across your bottom lip to gain entrance. You moaned into it as he squeezed at your hips, lifting you and carrying you to bed as he pressed his weight down into you.

“Tiger,” he pulled away breathlessly, “Are you sure this is—“

“Show me what I used to like,” you nipped at his chin, grabbed his hand and brought it under your shirt. His eyes stayed closed, his chest heaving with the air he was trying to get in. You nipped at his lips, pulled him down into another forceful kiss as you raised your hips to grind into his, He groaned into your mouth, his hand trailing up your rib cage.

“You used to like it when I did….this”  he broke from you, bringing his lips down and sucking gently at your neck as you drew in a sharp breath.

“And you have a real sweet spot right…here,” a flick of his tongue had you gasping, and he bit down on the sensitive area while you grinded against him. He sucked a deep mark into your neck and you moaned, but you needed his mouth on you again. You tilted your face and he captured your lips in a searing kiss.

“You’re also really sensitive when I do this,” his palm cupped your breast through your bra, and you moaned softly. He squeezed, kneading you through the material as his lips caught yours again. His hand was so big, so warm and gentle, and you squeezed your knees together as you started to feel a knot low in your belly.

“Off,” you pleaded against his lips, “Get it off.”

He raised back on his haunches and you saw the effect you were having on him—his eyes crazed, the bulge tenting the front of his jeans. It had been so long for him, so long since he had felt you, that he wasn’t sure he would make it all the way through. Pulling his shirt off, he reached for yours and got it over your head. You fumbled with your bra but he moved your hands away, popping it open and you quickly threw the material off as he worked to get your pants unbuttoned and off. You reached for him again, grabbing his hands as you pushed your breasts into his palms and pulled him back down on top of you.

“God tiger,” he moaned into your mouth, “I’ve missed you.”

His hands felt so good on your chest, kneading softly and rolling your nipples between his thumbs. You gasped when he pinched softly, moving his lips down to suck on the hollow of your collarbone. He waited until you relaxed before he pinched again, a little harder this time, rolling your nipples through his fingers.

“I really used to like…” he placed suckling kisses down your sternum, nuzzling the underside of your breast with his nose before brushing his lips over it, “Doing this.”

He dragged his tongue over your nipple before enclosing his mouth around it. You groaned and shot forward but he pushed you back, his other hand continuing to pinch and knead while he sucked on your pebbled bud. He nipped at it softly, flicking his tongue over it before blowing on it and moving to the next one. You grinded your hips against whatever you could reach, tangling your hands in his hair as his warm mouth surrounded your other nipple. You whimpered, reaching your own hand down between your legs to try and ease some of the tension but he quickly grabbed it with his, intertwining your fingers.

“All in good time sweet girl,” he purred, “I want you nice and wet for me.”

You whined, trying to get some friction and he rolled his hips against yours as he trailed his mouth down. He nipped gently at your lower belly, dipping his tongue into your navel.

“This is one of my favourites,” he murmured into your skin, “You’re always so soft here.”

 He kissed along your lower stomach, one warm hand running over your body while the other one stayed tangled with yours. He licked at the waistband of your panties, nuzzled your mound, and it snapped you to attention. Before you could stop him, he buried his nose in the seam of your panties and inhaled deeply—you jerked in surprise but the groan he let out was feral. Out of instinct you moved to shut your legs but one hand grabbed onto your thigh, keeping them open.

“Um,” you looked down at him shyly, squirmy just a little, “You don’t have to…uh…”

He smiled, genuine and lopsided, and nipped playfully at your inner thigh.

“You said the exact same thing the first time we ever slept together,” another suckling kiss to your thigh, the brush of his lips across your panties, “And I’ll tell you the exact same thing that I said then: this is my favourite thing to do for you. To you.”

Your cheeks flushed, you should feel his warm breath on you through the soaked material. Before you could say anything else, he licked a broad stripe up your slit and groaned, resting his nose on your mound.

“God, the way you taste. The way you smell. I need it, kid. Please, can I have it?” He pleaded, looking up at you for confirmation. You bit your lip—you were a little shy, but god he looked like a man on fire. You nodded slowly.

“Use your words tiger,” he prompted.

“Yes,” you mumbled, “Okay.”

He didn’t wait another second. Grabbing the waistband of your panties, he ripped them from you in one yank and then dove forward. It felt like he was everywhere, his tongue wet and warm and firm, licking over you in broad swipes. You gasped and he moaned into you, the vibrations humming through your whole body. You watched him devour you, his eyes closed in pleasure, one hand still gripping your thigh to make sure you stayed nice and open for him. He licked at your entrance, pushing his tongue inside while his nose pressed into you before dragging his tongue up slowly through your folds, sucking his way up.

“Oh god,” you groaned softly, “This is fantastic.”

You squeezed tighter at his hand, relaxing more into the blankets and pushing your legs wider apart. He groaned in response, pressing his face into you more as his lips closed around your clit. He suckled at it, flicking his tongue over it as you twitched. The knot in your stomach was clenching, the groans coming out guttural as you tensed.

“Bill,” you squeaked, “Don’t stop.”

Your leg cramped up and shot out, but his lips stayed gentle and firm around your bud. He suckled with the same pressure, nipping softly at it.

“Please don’t stop,” you begged, and you were rewarded with another deep groan that sent a hum of vibrations through you. Reaching up, he glided his hand over your body and gently pushed two fingers into your mouth. The noise you made was inhuman, shoving your hips up and keeping a death grip on his hand. He gave a few broad licks up your slit, glided his tongue firmly through your folds before moving his attention back to your bud. He flicked over it before sucking it into his mouth harshly, and it was your undoing. With a loud cry you grabbed onto his hair, every muscle in your body tense and your eyes clenched so tightly shut that tears leaked from the corners. You nearly yelled through it, letting it crash into you like a freight train as you gasped. You collapsed onto the bed after it washed over you, your chest heaving and slicked with sweat, your face lax with pleasure.

You felt a soft kiss on your chin, another one on your lips, a gentle hand brushing the hair from your face.

“You okay?” He asked lowly—and you laughed. You let out an incredulous, pleasure-drunk laugh.

“So good,” you groaned, “So, so good.”

You felt him smile into the kiss, and felt another weight on you as he pressed into your body.

“Good,” he said, but he sounded strained, “Tiger, I need you. I really need you. Think you can handle a bit more, sweet girl?”

You opened your eyes lazily.

“Sweet girl,” you murmured, “I like that.”

He smiled again, but his face looked pained. Tense. You nipped at his lip, pulling his hips into yours and he moaned.

“I want more,” you said, “God you’re good at this.”

You helped him drag his jeans and boxers down as he kissed you again forcefully. You reached down and grabbing hold of him to line him up, you stopped abruptly and your eyes widened.

“What is it?” He asked, worried.

“Holy shit, you’re huge,” you blurted out. He laughed boisterously, burying his face in your neck as his chest rumbled.

“And you take it like a champ,” he smiled at you, “We’ll go slow.”

He captured your lips in a deep kiss, one hand keeping a loose hold of your chin while the other hand balanced his weight. He faltered as he pushed into you, his hips stuttering and he broke the kiss with a whimper as he pinched his eyes shut.

“Oh god tiger,” he moaned, “My tiger.”

You shushed him softly, scratching lightly at his back as you tried to relax your muscles to accommodate him. You didn’t remember but your body seemed to, taking him with ease until he bottomed out and rested his chest on yours.

“Bullseye,” he moaned. You wrapped your legs around his waist, relishing in the feel of him inside you—so heavy and deep, pressing against your inner walls in a way that made you want to clench around him. You could feel the beginnings of another release, you could feel that knot deep in your belly again, feel yourself getting wetter with him so deep inside you.

“Move bud,” you begged, “You’ve gotta move.”

Gripping the bed sheets tightly in his fists, he kept his weight on you as he rolled his hips forward. His thrusts weren’t hurried, but god they were heavy and deep. He kept it slow, barely pulling back before he was pushing back into you, and you raked your nails down his back. His moans were gravelly and rough, his jaw slack as he tried to prolong his release just a little bit.

“My tiger,” he moaned again, and you pulled him into a heated kiss.

“Deeper Bill,” you begged, and he rolled his hips into yours with more force, slamming into you and you clenched around him. He moaned, the headboard knocking against the wall with every deep thrust.

“You feel so good kid,” he grunted, using his grip on the sheets for leverage as he plunged into you, “So good.”

Your muscles were squeezing him, the filthy sound of how wet you were and the deep drag of your insides were driving him crazy. He wasn’t going to last much longer, but neither were you. The stretch was intense but full of pleasure, the weight of him inside you and the way your body seemed to respond to him. You could barely breathe, couldn’t focus on anything other than the despair you felt when he pulled away and the the insane pleasure you felt when he filled you back up again.

“Give it to me tiger,” he panted, rolling his hips to rub onto your clit, “All over me, come on.”

You were there, your body clenching around him as you tried to drag in a deep breath.

“Now tiger,” he demanded, and you cried out as your nails dug into his back,  dragging them down as you spasmed. He cursed, yelling out as he slammed into you and tensed. His chest nearly crushed you, his hips driving in deep and staying there as his fists clenched in the sheets. He gave a feral cry as you felt him fill you up, his voice giving way to rough, raspy groans as he let it slam into him. His chest heaved as he shook, and he eventually collapsed against you with his face in your neck, whimpering softly as the aftershocks shuddered through him.

You let the silence hang, kept your arms around him as he twitched and tried to catch his breath, your fingers dancing soft patterns over his skin. He eventually started to do the same, his lips leaving soft kisses in your neck, across your cheek, before landing softly on your nose. His eyes were bright, his hair sticking to his forehead, his lips tilted up in the laziest of grins.

“You know,” you started, “I’d be pretty down to do that again. Like, regularly.”

He laughed, and you craned up to kiss him.

“Was it always this good?” You asked him honestly. He went to roll off you but you stayed his movements, pulling him down onto you again. He kissed the corner of your mouth, tracing his finger over some of your features as he rested his weight on you.

“Yes,” he smiled boyishly, “I mean, speaking selfishly of course. It was always that good for me. But you also seemed to always enjoy it the way that you just did.”

“And we….only do this with each other?”

“Mmhmm,” he nuzzled the side of your nose with his.

“I can see why,” you reached for another kiss, “If it’s always this good, of course I’d want to be selfish about it.”

His laugh was breathy and soft, and you scratched lightly at his scalp. He rested his cheek on your chest, smushing his face in as his eyes closed slowly.

“I should get off of you,” he slurred. You just hummed, continuing to run your fingers through his hair.

“Why? This is nice,” you murmured, “I have therapy tomorrow?”

“Yeah,” his speech was slack jawed and warbled, “Afternoon. Then dinner with my family.”

You nodded, kissing his head.

“Thank you for tonight, bud. I really enjoyed it,” you mumbled, “All of it.”

But the only thing you heard was his soft snore, his mouth hanging open as his breaths evened out.

It was the first time you had slept through the night, the first time that your dreams left you alone, and the first time that a blinding headache wasn’t the first thing you felt when you woke up. Instead there was just a warmth, a weighted comfort that just seemed to envelop you completely. You shifted, sighing a little as the warm weight on your stomach started to rub back and forth.

“Go slow,” a deep voice murmured. You couldn’t help it, you curled up into the warmth more—seeking it out and tucking into it, nuzzling your nose into soft skin, as a hand stroked at your back and a soft pair of lips dotted whispery kisses across your face.

“We slept in a bit sweet girl,” the gravelly voice said and you almost purred, “We have to go to your therapy session soon.”

“Five more minutes,” you grumbled, and the rumble in his chest vibrated against your cheek.

“I wish we could kid,” he tapped your bottom lightly, “But we’ll be late, come on.”

It was a struggle. A struggle to open your eyes and not pout about it. A struggle to drag your tired body out of the warm blankets, away from the other warm body, and to get dressed. When the cool air nipped at your face on your way into the clinic, you huddled further into your jacket and grumbled.

“Go on,” he said, “I’ll be waiting out here when you’re done.”

Without hesitation, you kissed him briefly and then greeted your doctor as she ushered you into the room.

“Things seem to be going well?” She started, and you shrugged your coat off.

“Yes and no,” you sighed, “Yes, because he really is just…amazing. But no, because I still can’t remember shit.”

“What have you tried so far, to trigger your memory?”

“I ask him about me, like you said,” you told her as she scribbled notes, “He tells me a lot about who I was, what I used to like. We tried eating all the meals I used to love, and he tells me about why I love them or when I first tried them. We tried photo albums, but nothing got triggered there. I met my group of friends last night—good people—they shared some stories too, but nothing kickstarted my brain.”

“I see,” she said calmly, “What else?”

“We tried watching movies I used to love,” you chewed your lip in thought as you tried to remember, “He took me to a few places around town I used to enjoy. We got into old habits and routine, doing what we used to do on weekends together and whatnot. But nothing is working.”

“Routine is good,” she said, “It can be any number of things, that will prove to be your trigger. Sometimes the portion of our brains responsible for our memories can be given a much-needed kickstart by routine. By repeatedly doing the exact things that we used to repeatedly do. Sometimes, patients suddenly wake up one day and they just…remember. Sometimes it’s triggered by trauma. Any number of things can be responsible, so don’t lose hope and keep trying.”

“Trauma?” You asked cautiously.

“Unfortunately,” she continued, “The memories we have are only held in one place in our brain. A reaction to a past trauma is an incredibly intense thing to go through, and sometimes it reactivates every single part of our brain, including sections that were malfunctioning. A past trauma, a memory of a past trauma, or something that reminds you of a past trauma—whether or not you remember the incident—can trigger your memory to come back.”

“That sounds awful,” you mumbled, “God I hope it just comes back by like, eating spaghetti or something. If it ever comes back.”

“Have hope,” she smiled reassuringly, “You’re doing all the right things.”

True to his word, when you emerged from the room an hour and a half later and significantly more tired, he was there waiting and wrapped you up in a comforting hug.

“That one was hard,” you mumbled into his chest, and he squeezed you tighter.

“Tiger, if you just want to relax tonight—”

“No,” you interrupted, “I have to keep trying. And I want to meet them, so let’s not overthink this. Let’s just go.”

He nodded, tucking you under his arm as he led you to the car. You reached for his hand as he drove, pulling it into your lap and enclosing it in both of yours. It earned you a side glance, that soft smile that you loved.

“Are you nervous?” He asked.

“No,” you said truthfully, “I was more nervous to meet our friends. I’m…excited to meet your family. Again.”

You chuckled softly at the last part, squeezing his hand tighter.

“There’s 8 of them, you said?” You ran your thumb over his knuckles—his hand was huge, but it was always so warm.

“Yes, we’re 7 brothers and one girl. They won’t all be there today, though.”

“And you said some of them were actors too?” You asked.

“Four of us,” he nodded, “And dad. They’re all here today. One brother is a doctor, you’ll meet him too. The other two are very young. My sister works as a restaurant manager, but she’s back in Stockholm.”

“And are they all uh, tall like you?”  You snickered.

“Oh god no,” Bill laughed and you sighed in relief, “….they’re taller.”

“How is that even possible? Family of giants.”

“Yeah something like that,” he pulled his hand loosely from yours, shifting the car into park and undoing his seatbelt.

“You ready kid?” He asked, brushing his thumb across your cheek.

“Yeah, let’s meet this circus.”

“Tiger, if at any point—“

“I know bud,” you interrupted, “I’ll give you a sign if I need to get out of there.”

He nodded, hesitating a moment before leaning forward in his seat. You met him halfway, gently pressing your lips to his and giving a tug to the curl on his forehead. Unbuckling your seatbelt, you laced your fingers with his as he led you up the long walkway. With one last look to you, and with your reassuring nod back, he opened up the door.

It was calmer than what you expected a household with that many inhabitants to be, but when Bill opened the door you were met with something akin to peace. It smelled delicious, wafts from the kitchen infiltrating the hallway and entrance area. In the living room you could hear someone plinking on a guitar, a soundtrack of soft jazz playing behind them. The house was bright but calm, natural sunlight filtering in, the entranceway painted a warm neutral tone and dotted with wooden accents. Bill rested his hands on your shoulders and you shrugged off your coat, handing it to him to hang up as he took your hand. To your relief, nobody had run up to greet you just yet—you had no doubts that he had warned them too, had told them beforehand that you needed to take it slow.

“They’re in the living room,” he answered your unasked question, “Come on.”

Taking your hand, he led you across a soft carpet and into a white open space—it was beautiful. Thick cable knit blankets adorned plush couches, minimalist accents, linear art on the walls—and three very, very big men strewn across sofas that looked miniature sized under their long bodies.

“Everyone,” Bill called softly, “Look who’s here.”

Three pairs of eyes turned to you, and you had to shake your head softly to make sure you were seeing clearly. They all looked like varying shades of the exact same person, each with distinct features but still all so identical. The blond one had Bill’s eyes, had his exact nose that you had come to love. The one with whispers of a beard on his chin had an immediate warmth about him, a kindness and peaceful presence that so resembled Bill’s. The older looking blond one had the same smirk, the same twinkle of mischief and mirth in his face that you would sometimes see on Bill.

“Oh my,” you said softly. Instinctively you reached a hand up, feeling for Bill behind you and he stepped into your space. You rested your hand on his chest, making sure he was still there. “You are all very large.”

You clapped your hand over your mouth in embarrassment at the comment that slipped out but you were met with soft chuckles as they all stood and made their way slowly to you.

“In order of age,” Bill said, “This is Alex, my oldest brother.”

Alex stepped forward, opening his arms widely and it seemed so natural and comfortable that you didn’t hesitate to step into them.

“Gentle,” Bill warned his brother, “She’s still all banged up.”

And the giant was gentle. He hugged you with caution, bending at the knees to be able to, and he kissed your cheek softly as he pulled away.

“Good to see you again,” he said.

“I don’t remember you,” you mumbled, “I’m sorry. But it’s nice to meet you, Bill version beta.”

Alex chuckled, gave Bill a knowing glance and stepped aside.

“This is Gustaf,” Bill introduced the next brother, and you liked this one. They all seemed nice, but this one had…something about him. You saw every bit of Bill’s gentle spirit, his softness, his caring in this one. Just like his brother before, Gustaf leaned down and wrapped his arms gently around you.

“Glad to have you back,” he murmured when he pulled away, “We have much to catch up on.”

"I don’t remember you either, Bill version beta 2.0,” you mumbled embarassed, but he squeezed your shoulders.

“Then how lucky am I, to be able to re-introduce myself to you,” he said kindly. Oh, you liked this one indeed. You also liked the warm, caring smile he shot Bill—the way he reached out and hugged his little brother too, ruffled his hair. The smile on Bill’s face told you everything you needed to know about their relationship.

“And this one,” Bill said as the blonde one came in front of you, “Is Valter.”

“Walter?” You asked innocently.

“With a V, genius,” the blond one snapped. You were a little taken aback, but he had spunk—you appreciated that. Bill muttered something in Swedish behind you—something that sounded angry—but Valter just cocked an eyebrow.

“I don’t remember you,” you smirked, “And I think I’m pretty glad about that.”

It earned you some good natured chuckles from the band of brothers, and Valter still bent at the knees and hugged you.

“Whatever you say Dory,” he shot back, “You won’t remember me in another 30 seconds anyway.”

Another angry remark in Swedish from Bill, but you genuinely laughed. You appreciated Bill’s devoted care, but it was also nice to be treated a little more…normally. To be treated as if you weren’t made of glass.

“I thought you said there were four bud?” You asked as you pulled away, “Where’s the other one?”

“Probably cooking,” he took a few strides away, peering down the hallway. “Sam! Tiger’s here.”

You heard the footsteps, but your back was turned as you made some small talk with the brothers.

“Tiger,” Bill said, “This is my brother, Sam.”

You turned, and the moment you saw his face, a bright, white-hot flash of pain shot through your head. That face—that man—you knew that man. Your mind raced, your heart sped up, and suddenly—flash after flash of bright lights, searing pain. Memories, conversations, laughter—all of it poured into your head at the speed of light. You were dizzy, you could hear the voices of conversations past, your brain filling with memories and spiralling a thousand miles a minute. You gasped for breath, stumbling back.

“Tiger?” Bill said in alarm, “What’s wrong?”

Your feet kept peddling backwards as thoughts, more thoughts, more memories clouded every single function in your brain. You groaned as the searing, blinding pain clouded your vision.

“Bill,” you choked, “Bill get him away.”

“Tiger it’s just my brother—“

“He’s going to stab me with a needle again!” You cried suddenly, “Just like he did a few years ago!”

The entire room stilled, all of the eyes on you, as the silence became deafening.

“What did you just say?” Bill whispered.

Your head felt like it was going to explode.

“No,” you sobbed, “No no no no no no….”

“Tiger hey. Hey,” Bill stepped into your line of vision, grabbing your face in his hands, “It’s just me and you kid, just me and you.”

“Bill,” you continued to sob, clutching at his shirt as your mind spun. Everything—all of it—it was all coming back, and it was all coming back at the same time. Your knees buckled.

“Tiger, what did you just say?” He asked again.

“Him,” you sniffled, “He had a big needle a few years ago when we were visiting your family’s country place and I wasn’t feeling well. And he tried to stab me with it and I passed out and then he stabbed me anyway and I needed surgery.”

“Tiger—” Bill said urgently, his eyes wide, “How do you know that?”

“Because I remember Bill,” you shoved at him, “I hate needles.”

Bill hadn’t blinked. He still had your face in his hands, squishing your cheeks, as his eyes got impossibly wider.

“Tiger, when’s my birthday?”

“Does he have a needle?” You asked feebly. Bill glanced back—Sam was just carefully watching you both, and he raised his hands slowly.

“No needle,” he promised, “I won’t hurt you.”

“My birthday tiger,” Bill focused back on you, “When is it?”

“August 9th,” you said immediately. Bill let out a small incredulous noise.

“What was the name of the stray cat you took care of for a year?” He asked.

“Tofu,” you said without missing a beat.

“What happened to the coffee maker I bought you?” 

“It broke,” you mumbled.

“What happened to the coffee maker tiger,” he deadpanned.

“I stabbed it,” you mumbled embarassed, “I thought it was haunted.”

“Which cousin do you hate?”

“Leila,” you sneered, “God, she’s a cunt.”

“And what did we do for your birthday last year?”

“We had sex in the Magic Kingdom at Disney World,” you mumbled, but the way Bill’s face contorted from shock to sheer embarrassment and the hand that he clapped over your mouth gave you a clue that perhaps you had said something wrong.

“They don’t know we do that,” he whispered urgently to you. You bit your lip sheepishly.

“They do now,” Valter chimed in, and you barely registered a rapid exchange of money amongst the brothers, some disgruntled grumbles. A quick glare from Bill, and then the piercing green orbs were back on you.

“Tiger, you remember,” he murmured. Tears flooded down your cheeks, as you nodded. He couldn’t help it—pulling you forward, he crushed his lips to yours as you held onto him.

“It came back,” you said as you pulled away, “I don’t know how. But I just kept getting flashes, my heart is still racing. Everything just flooded back.”

“For what it’s worth, if anyone cares about my medical opinion,” Sam chimed in from the background, “Amnesia from blunt force trauma is often reversed when the patient is re-exposed to a prior trauma.”

“The memories,” you mumbled in surprise, “Bill, my therapist said that. Even if I don’t remember a past trauma, my brain still has a knee-jerk reaction to it and that can provoke a kick start for my brain to access all of my memories. Just by being re-exposed to a traumatic one.”

“Exactly,” Sam said, but your eyes narrowed and you glared at him.

“So you stabbed me with a needle and you traumatized me?” You said accusingly. Bill chuckled, squeezing your shoulder softly in warning.

“No,” he said with a furrowed brow, “I traumatized you by stabbing you with a needle. It’s quite simple, really. And you saw me, and your brain remembered that trauma, and now you remember everything.”

“You son of a—“

“Okay that’s enough of that,” Bill held you back by pulling you back into him, “Tiger, you remember.”

“I remember,” you said softly, and when you raised on your tip toes he met you halfway, kissing you softly.

“So are we all just not going to acknowledge that this” Valter gestured to the two of you, “Is officially a thing, even when we all knew it was a thing?”

“I don’t know about that Valtermelon. It may not be a thing for long,” you muttered, and Bill looked to you curiously. You smacked his chest, taking a big step away from him as you glared.

“You fucking let me eat green onions?” You snapped at him, “Green onions?! Bill, you’re fucking fired.”

[sakurology]

Brainrot Kinktober - 10/1

nice guys finish last

Hate sex: Shigeru Yahaba x Fem!Reader

Warnings: oral sex (f. receiving), sex (protected), kinda unhealthy relationship? Lmfaoooo idk how to tag a hate fuck but that’s what it is... frat boys. frat au- frat boys always come with a warning.

Word Count: 1.7k

Brainrot Kinktober Mlist

Of all the people in your contemporary issues seminar, it was just your luck that you had to be paired with Shigeru Yahaba for your midterm project. He was the arrogant, know-it-all, frat boy type that you loathed. It wasn’t that you knew you’d get a bad grade, actually quite the opposite; you both had some of the highest marks in the class- no, it was the fact that you had to spend time with someone who had such an inflated ego, and made it a point to let everyone know that his dad was on the university board of trustees or that his fraternity won the greek wars the past 2 years in a row- Every. Time. He. Opened. His. mouth. But begrudgingly, you had to do this to pass.

After texting back and forth sporadically for a few days, you had agreed to meet and work on the paper in your dorm, as you told Yahaba there was no way in hell you were stepping foot into his frat’s house. You felt a lot better doing the assignment on your terms this way. He, however, decided to show up almost an hour late to the pre-arranged meeting time, only further fuelling your disdain.

“Sorry,” he said flatly, tossing his backpack down to the floor. “Our pledges had a mission that ran over time and as Pledge Master I-“

“I don’t care,” you cut him off. “Let’s just get this project over with, yeah?”

You both set up your laptops and sat in an uncomfortable silence. Every once in a while, one of you would mention the topic at hand for the project, discussing a detail or commenting on the formatting of the paper you had to co-author. But mostly, the air was riddled with a heaviness, a lingering tension that was as close to breaking as possible. It was about an hour and a half before he opened his mouth to actually make conversation- and of course, he chose to press the issue.

“You know… I never really knew what your whole deal was with me,” he chuckled. “You seem to be the only person on this campus that has it out for me…”

“I don’t have it out for you,” you replied. “I just simply don’t like you.” You went back to work, typing feverishly in an attempt to draw your silence back in.

“But… why?” His tone changed, almost to one of desperation. One that let you know that he wanted you to validate him. But you could never give him that satisfaction.

“Because trustfund boys like you are a waste of time, space, and energy!” You yelled. Yahaba’s eyes widened.

“Well at least I don’t think I’m better than everybody for being a loner without friends!” He yelled back.

“At least I don’t have to fucking pay for friends,” you spat. “I worked for everything I have, I worked hard to get here! You think you should just be able to get by because daddy’s money keeps the school afloat!”

Your faces were lingering mere inches from each other, anger boiling over into a sickening feeling of contempt- but also an overwhelming arousal? The feeling of those sinfully familiar butterflies welled up in your abdomen as you stared into his eyes.

It was in a fluid motion that his lips found yours, teeth feverishly tugging at your bottom lip to allow entrance to your mouth. Your head was spinning as you tried to comprehend your current position- but your senses were overriding thought. You melted into the kiss, allowing your jaw to fall open just enough for Yahaba to swipe his tongue against yours. You paused for a second, stopping to look him in the eyes again, seeing his now hooded with an entirely different story than the hateful narrative you had been writing for them the entire semester.

“If we’re going to do this,” you started, taking the time to take a deep inhale before you finished your sentence:

“If we’re going to do this, you better not fucking tell anyone- or you’re dead.”

“Scouts honor,” Yahaba replied, licking his lips and giving you a shit-eating grin. Even though you were thoroughly convinced he had never been a scout, you couldn’t be bothered to care. He kissed you once more, pushing you into the couch before starting to sloppily trail kisses down your jawline, neck, and collarbones. He placed both hands at your waist, pinning you to the surface below as he used his teeth to pull up your shirt, feathering more kisses down your torso. You watched him wistfully, mindlessly following his lead.

You began to kick off your leggings, wriggling them down your thighs while Yahaba had removed his shirt. He found his way back to your mouth, placing sloppy open-mouthed kisses to it as he hooked his thumbs into the waistband of your slowly dampening underwear, tossing them to the floor. He ran a finger up your now glistening slit- the sudden sensation of which earned a gasp of surprise from you. Examining his finger, he slowly licked your arousal from it.

“Delicious,” he smirked, positioning his head and body in between your legs, his own feet dangling from the couch. He looked up at you one last time.

“I hope you’re ready for this....” he teased. He wasted no time, flattening his tongue against your core. You inhaled sharply, one hand finding his hair and the other palming one of your now exposed breasts. You rolled your nipple between your fingers as he went to work, lapping at your folds with an almost sinfully slow pace.

“Fuck I need- MORE!” You could barely get the last word out when you were jolted by the feeling of suction his mouth had made on your clit. Slowly, Yahaba had slid a finger at your slit, slowly pushing it within your plush walls, several soft moans escaping your lips. He curled his finger inside of you once or twice before lazily slipping another in, making sure to keep the pressure also building around your clit, rapidly darting his tongue against it.

He released you from his mouth with a pop, fingers still pumping away. He was motivated by the moans you were so desperately holding back- he wasn’t supposed to be making you feel this good. You hated him, you hated what he stood for- why give him the satisfaction of having you come undone at his touch?

“Come on, y/n,” he coaxed. “I know you’re a raging fucking bitch- but can you sound real pretty for me? Let me hear how pretty you sound, tell me how good my fingers feel inside your pretty little hole...”

“Hmmmph~ fuck,” you whined. He quickened his pace. “It feels so- mmmm- so good.”

“Good girl.” His mouth found its way to your clit once again as he removed his fingers from your cunt, bringing them to your lips. You quickly opened your mouth for them, tasting your essence and humming as you wrapped your lips around them. Your eyes fluttered closed as you could feel the knot in your abdomen slowly starting to rip.

“I’m going to c-“ you choked out a half sentence, stopping as you felt your climax ripped away from you as Yahaba removed his mouth from the bundle of nerves, leaving your spasming pussy desperate for attention.

“No you’re not,” he growled. He tore his joggers from his body, boxers following immediately after. Spitting into his hand, he stroked his already hardened cock; looking at you lustfully. He used his free hand to reach into the pocket of his joggers, pulling out his wallet, followed by a condom.

“I’m always prepared,” he winked. As much as you wanted to smack the smug look off of his face, you knew that he would be able to scratch the growing itch you had. You just wish he wasn’t able to talk through it.

“Shut up,” you retorted. “Just fuck me before I change my mind.” You swivelled your hips in anticipation, watching him prepare himself. He lined himself up with your core, sliding himself against your opening.

“Shiiiit,” he hissed, slowly sinking into you. Your head flew back as the feeling of fullness overtook your lower half. Yahaba started moving at an even pace, snapping his hips against you with each thrust. You threw your arm around his side, coaxing him to move a little faster.

“For someone who can’t stand me, you sure are needy,” Yahaba laughed, continuing to pull himself in and out of you at a teasingly slow rate.

“I said shut up and fuck me- that’s all you need to be doing,” you commanded.

He bent down even closer to you, bucking himself into you deeply, attaching his tongue to the sweet spot just below your ear and sinking his teeth into the soft flesh. He started pounding away at your pussy, satiated by the stream of curses and needy moans spilling from your lips. Your nails absentmindedly dug into his back, clawing at him to make sure you could feel every inch of him dragging through your soaking wet walls. The familiar knot in the bottom of your stomach was building itself up yet again, only made larger by Yahaba pressing his hand against your abdomen to deliver more quick and hard thrusts, hitting at just the perfect angle to cause you to snap.

“Fuckfuckfuck I’m- oh my god- I’m cumming!” You choked out as your vision went blurred. Yahaba didn’t let up, continuing to thrust as you rode out the high, your walls spasming around him. Once you went limp, he pulled out, hair still perfectly coiffed and sticking to his forehead from the sweat. He began to dress himself again as you lay sprawled on the couch, your body beginning to prickle with sensation again.

“Wait,” you paused. “You didn-”

“Nah,” he threw his shirt back on. He hadn’t finished himself. You were a little hurt- did he think you were trash?

“I wanted to prove to you that even if you hate me, I’m a pretty good guy… a good guy would never let you go unfinished.”

The hurt you had felt turned into the contempt you knew instinctively.

“Fuck you,” you huffed, pulling your t-shirt back over your own head.

“You just did,” he smirked.

Our taglist is closed now, but here are those who are on it! (if your tag is in bold, pls check ur privacy settings to make sure we can tag you!)

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[insanityclause]

Penzey Spices -- loves Loki!

Bill Penzey, owner of  Penzey Spices in Wisconsin, sent this to his online customers today.  I thought it might be of interest to those of us who gather here:

Like everybody, Jeri and I look for shows to watch. Sometimes things are recommended, other times something just pops up and you give it a try. In that "just give it a try" category was the English version of Wallander. It’s well acted and you care about the characters but its four seasons really are a long, dark spiral. Ultimately, in the very last moment it ends in a way as a cook I think you would appreciate, but the road there is hard. If you were to watch it you should give serious thought to watching the episodes in backward order, that way the show’s arc would be ever more hopeful, ever brighter.

Somewhere watching the show, towards the end of the first season or beginning of the second, I actually paused the show and said to Jeri, “That guy.” As I pointed to one of the junior detectives in the back of the scene. “Why won’t someone give that guy a show? I could watch him read the phone book.” With the way he almost never got any lines this would mean him reading the phone book silently to himself, but I was okay with that. In the bleakest of shows he somehow managed to deliver humanity with just the look upon his face. Most every scene he was in became something better, something more decent just because he was there.

Flash forward 10-12 years and that actor, Tom Hiddleston, now does have his own show, Loki, on Disney+ and since the universe responded to my request, I feel obliged to put in a plug for it. Plus, it’s starting to cook. New episodes air every Wednesday. Last week’s episode was a breakthrough and in many ways was a retelling of the Grinch story where Loki’s heart grows not one, not two, but three times larger simply by coming to understand firsthand he is someone worth loving. In some ways it reminded me of the also very worthwhile Elton John biopic Rocketman. Good stuff all around.

And of course this is one of those shows with a mystery behind about who really is in charge and what they really are up to and those shows never end with viewers happy with the big reveal. As I was explaining to the kids just last week, as much as it may well seem like naming a street after a living person is a really good idea, in the moment it rarely is. But even if, as hinted at, Loki only gets this “one brief shining moment” to be good and find happiness within the Marvel Universe, it’s still a good moment to be a part of. Obviously Loki has some work ahead of him and obstacles to overcome if he is to prove he is indeed a good friend to Möbius, but I’m rooting for him.

Earlier in the season in a restaurant scene that wasn’t really a restaurant scene, there was a discussion over what to order and one of the options was potato skins. This started a discussion in the Penzey house. Jeri and I will be married 19 years next month and to the best of our recollections in all those years I’ve never made her potato skins. The kids have never even had them. So, start with larger baked potatoes the way you like to bake them. If you are new to baking potatoes, wash them, poke them with a fork 8-9 times all around and then place them in a 400-degree oven for about an hour turning once while baking. They are done when they “give” when squeezed, or if you prefer to use a thermometer when the center reaches 205 degrees.

You can bake these a day in advance, but they are even better the same day. Let them cool for a bit and then cut potatoes into thirds lengthwise (this is the fun bit :) ) then scoop out the center part of the potato leaving about 3/8ths of an inch of potato still attached to the skin. In the old days I would butter the inner part of the potato, now it’s a drizzle of olive oil. There are trade-offs in life. Then a good sprinkling of Sandwich Sprinkle followed by the shredded cheese of your choice. Inspired by Loki visiting 1985 Oshkosh, Wisconsin in the second episode, I went with three cheeses: mozzarella, 2-year Cheddar, and pepper Jack. Wisconsin is fun.

Next comes bacon or no bacon. Usually I’m not a crispy bacon kind of person, but for this if you want to use it, precooking it to crispy and then crumbling is the way to go. And if you picked up the Potato of Love as part of our June Rainbow Pride giveaway, this is a really good spot to use those. Then it’s just a matter of placing them in the oven until they reach your desired level of melty. I like them just a little bit browned, but the kids had not had them before and we wanted these to be liked.

While they cooked I mixed 1 tsp. Justice Seasoning with 1/4 cup Sour Cream and Jeri cut up and lightly mashed a medium avocado to which we added 1 and 1/2 tsp. Salsa & Pico Seasoning and served these on the side. We had a hit! Jeri said we should do these more often. And Grandma Ruth, who loves nothing more than sacrificing for her grandkids, quickly grabbed seconds before the kids even noticed the supply wasn’t endless. This made me so happy!

If you have access to Disney+ please consider giving Loki a try. To get people to cook they have to see the value in caring for one another. There’s not a lot of shows out there that radiate this. Ultimately as the show itself says: “Most things in history are kind of dumb and everything gets ruined eventually.” But for now we have Camelot quotes and DB Cooper and people caring about each other.

And if a segment of this year’s Emmys is to be Tom Hiddleston, Owen Wilson and Sophia Di Martino quietly reading the phone book to themselves I would be good with that. But Wilson has a whisper like no other. They probably should consider using that. And maybe if Wunmi Mosaku was up there with them as the one who isn’t getting many lines now but should have her own show ten years from now, that would be good as well. Progress matters.

Thanks for reading, thanks for being our customer,

Bill bill@penzeys.com

P.S. If this email did not come from us directly but was forwarded by a friend, would you please consider signing up for our email list? A business is only as good as its customers and you would make us even better. Thanks!

---

What a fantastic read! Thank you, @honeyfromtheweed.

[writingthingsisdifficult]

Saving the world (Double booking pt 2)

I was asked to write a second part, and as inspiration struck, well… here it is.

They've shared a room. Now what?

If you like it, let me know :D

Word count: 5655

Part 1

_______________________________________________________________________

The light is seeping under the curtains, dragging you back to the conscious world, but you're not ready to get up just yet. So you squeeze your eyes shut and stretch your back. It's stiff as a board, and your cheek has seemingly set in a permanently squished position. The room feels stuffy and warm, and there's a soft noise you don't recognise at first. But when you finally open your eyes, you can't help but smile.

Everything's a bit blurry without your glasses, but there's no mistaking the man sleeping in the bed next to yours. His arm, which you suddenly notice isn't gloved, but a prosthetic, is hanging over the edge of the bed, and if you strain your imagination, it's almost stretched towards you.

It looks like he hasn't moved at all during the night. Neither have you when you come to think of it. When you stretch again, your neck cracks as if you were eighty, and it's a struggle to lift one leg over the other, though that might just be that you're still half asleep.

As you fumble for your glasses, Bucky opens his eyes and gives you a sleepy smile. "Good morning."

Your heart skips a beat, and it's as if you've forgotten all suitable responses to such an innocent greeting. "Yeah." That's what comes out of your mouth, and you groan.

"You sleep good?" He yawns and props up on his elbow.

"Mhm. Like a baby."

"Me too."

You grin and roll over on your back just as the loudest growl erupts from your stomach. Heat creeps up your neck and ears, and you mutter a soft "Sorry."

Bucky laughs. "Don't apologise for being hungry. What do you say we go get some breakfast?"

"I could eat."

After a quick shower and a couple of frustrating minutes picking an outfit, you really don't want to look like a slob in front of Bucky, you're both seated in the restaurant, devouring the bacon and eggs like your lives depend on it.

The conversation is light. You're slowly getting to know each other. "I'm freelancing for the government," Bucky says and gulps down his orange juice. "It's all really boring, though."

You nod and stuff your mouth with bacon. "I'm sure it isn't. But paperwork, am I right?" you add with a chuckle.

Nodding, he wipes his mouth and takes another bite. "Mhm. How about you?"

"Oh, it's not very interesting. I freelance too, I guess. Right now I've been hired to design a calendar with paintings from the city. It's not well paid, but it's fun."

"So you're an artist? May I see some of your work?"

Suddenly you feel a bit self-conscious. That's weird. You haven't had doubts about your art in forever. "I've got some photos in my phone." You hesitate for a second, then fish it out and unlock it. Scrolling down, you find the series of paintings you did last spring. Green and lush, you get a pang of longing for the fresh air and colourful flowers. The contrast is vast from the grey city.

"Wow, these are good!" Bucky exclaims and starts gushing over your lines and colour and the composition, and you feel your ego inflating with every word. All you can do is sit there with a stupid grin on your face, and a pulsing heat in your cheeks, while he builds you up like he's a professional.

You've totally forgotten the time when the staff tells you that the restaurant, unfortunately, is closed now, but that you're welcome back for dinner later. With many an apology, the two of you get up and head to the lobby, where you stay, talking for almost an hour before you remember why you are here in the first place.

"Sorry," you say, and mean it. "I need to get some work done before the light goes. I was thinking of heading down to the harbour today. See if the water can inspire me."

"Oh. Yeah, I guess." Bucky looks down on his feet and gives you a small smile. Then he looks up again, his eyes shining, competing with the glorious smile that grows on his lips. "Do you mind if I come with you? I mean… you don't have to say yes, I just…"

"No, of course." You're relieved that he asked, letting you out of asking him yourself. "Some company would be lovely. Just gotta get my stuff. Meet you back here in ten minutes?"

He nods and sighs almost imperceptibly once you've turned away, watching as you almost skip towards the elevator. A tiny voice in the back of his head warns him that he has tripped and is going to fall hard if he doesn't get a grip soon, but he ignores it. The feeling is too pleasant to care just now.

The next few days you establish a routine of sorts. Bucky knocks on your door, asks to sleep next to you, you say yes, and you wake up, turned towards each other. After breakfast, you head out into the city, sometimes he's leading the way, sometimes you have a plan, and you spend the day drawing and talking and without realising it, falling hard for him. Every evening you have dinner in one of the restaurants near the hotel, and every evening you forget what is happening around you, and all you can focus on is Bucky.

_____________________________________________________________________

The sun is shining. A bird is singing in the tree behind you. You can barely hear the traffic from the road outside the park. Bucky is lounging on the grass, chewing on a straw, and you've been drawing him in secret for the past two hours, your original subject completely forgotten and rejected. When he looks up at you, his face is filled with happiness. "This is nice," he says, careful to mask his full joy.

"Yes, it is," you reply, quickly hiding the drawing under a sketch of the bridge and skyline.

He sits up and looks like he wants to say something, but he closes his mouth instead. After a small pause, he gets up and holds out his hand. "Let's go grab something to eat."

"Okay," you whisper, breathless from the feel of his hand in yours. "Lead the way."

He takes you to a small café at the edge of the park, explaining that it's famous for its fries, and they've got the bestdipping sauce, you just have to try it.

You're in the middle of the meal, laughing at a joke, when a shadow interrupts. Looking up, you hear Bucky mutter a curse under his breath, and you feel a pinprick of fear in your neck. He's glaring at the stranger, and the stranger surprisingly returns the look.

"Um…" You look between Bucky, sat at the table with a curly fry sticking out from the corner of his mouth, staring daggers, to the man who just interrupted your lunch. The truth smacks you in the head with force. Holy shit! That's Captain America. Captain freaking America! And it slowly dawns on you who Bucky really is.

The glass you just picked up slides back to the table, sprite sloshing over the sides as it hits, but you don't realise your hand is cold and wet. All you can focus on is that your roommate for the last week is… Bucky Barnes, AKA The Winter Soldier. Yeah. You try very hard to swallow the food in your mouth, but it's so dry, and forcing it makes your throat ache.

Said soldier quickly chews the curly fry and swallows thickly. "What do you want, Sam?"

Sam hands him a pad, and upon reading the contents, Bucky's frown deepens.

"It's very nice to meet you," Sam says, his shining smile lighting up the whole room. "I'm Sam, by the way."

"Y/N," you reply, still unaware that the hand you're using to shake Captain America's hand with is wet and slightly sticky. Actually, you're kinda unaware of your surroundings altogether.

Sam laughs, making Bucky look up from the message, scowls at Sam, then returns to his reading. "So you're the one who's keeping Bucky busy, huh?" He winks, and you feel that heat creeping up the back of your neck. "From the look on your face, I'd say you didn't know who you're having lunch with, right?"

You nod, squeaking a confirmation.

Sam laughs. "I thought after the whole Flag Smashers case, everybody knew who Bucky was."

Your ears burn, and you breathe a little faster now. Of course, you've been to the exhibit at the Smithsonian, and of course you know about Steve Rogers' best friend, it just never connected in your brain that this super sweet man is a WWII hero and assassin.

Your eyes flick from his prosthetic arm and up to his face. "Uh… I'm just not super into the whole celebrity thing?" you offer, blurting out the first thing that pops into your head.

Snickering, Sam turns to Bucky. "And you didn't tell her?" There's a hint of annoyance in his voice.

Bucky picks on a stain on the table before setting up a defiant face. "It didn't come up." And he wants to add And by the way, how do you go about saying Oh, and FYI I'm a former assassin and murderer, to a woman you really want to get to know better?

He looks so uncomfortable, you get a strong urge to hug him, but now you're uncertain of all this. What if the two of you are against the rules? Wait, what are you, really? Friends? Accidental roommates? You like Bucky. You really like Bucky, and you had kinda hoped it would grow into something… more, but now… Swallowing the lump in the back of your throat – that was an unexpected reaction – you smile flatly. "Are, are you allowed to, to… I mean, can you be friends with…" You swallow again. "Civilians?"

Sam's eyes widen for a split second, and somehow you feel as though he can see right through you. Then he laughs, and all the tension around the table dissipates. "Of course. We're human, Bucky's human, as difficult as that is to believe. Of course we're allowed to have friends, relationships, family. Wouldn't be much of a life without it, would it? But expect them to do a background check on you, hell, they probably already know what you ate for dinner on your twelfth birthday."

"Oh."

"I'm sorry, Y/N, but I'm afraid I have to whisk your boyfriend away for a while. There's a situation."

"We're… we're not…" You have to admit that thought feels good, but really, any hope you had has been well and truly smashed.

Bucky gets up and smacks the pad at Sam. "I'll see you later?"

"I'll be here," you reply with fake confidence. "Please be safe. Both of you," you add with a small smile.

"You too," Bucky says softly. "Be careful if you go out after dark. It's not as safe as you think here."

That makes you snort. "It's me. I don't even like people, what am I supposed to do outside after dark, huh? Don't worry. I'll probably stay in my room and paint all day anyway."

He mutters something that sounds suspiciously like "good", but it's hard to hear over Sam. "I'll take care of him," he laughs, ducking under Bucky's hand as he swats at his head. "Come on, Buck. Let's roll."

"Be safe," you mutter again, looking after them as they head to the black, unmarked car waiting by the flower shop on the corner. It's as if all colour drains from your vision.

_______________________________________________________________________

The first sip of coffee feels divine; just what you need to wake up after spending another night without Bucky. It has been another restless night. You tossed and turned and couldn't settle properly. And the dreams… You'd rather not think about them. Never before has your brain produced such chaotic absurdities, such eldritch horrors, but to be honest you're not really surprised. Sleeping next to Bucky; something just clicked. You smile into your cup, feeling calmer just thinking about it. It's weird how quickly you got used to his presence, and how wrong it feels when he isn't there.

But you don't get to enjoy your drink for long. Before you've even finished the second sip, someone shoves you hard from behind. The coffee spills over the sidewalk, painting the concrete and splashing all over your shoes. "Hey! Watch where you're going!" you bark, turning to confront whoever pushed you. But before you can even see them, they pull a bag over your head.

Panic rises in you, and you scream until your throat feels raw. Someone smacks you across the mouth, and the shock and pain shuts you up. Your lip thumps: it's split, you can taste the blood now. Tears stream down your cheeks, the soft fabric of the bag clings to your skin. Feeling the darkness caress your mind, the world starts folding in over itself. Still you possess enough awareness to kick the person holding you. They yelp and swear, resulting in a sharp rap over your ear. Your head is ringing.

A pair of strong arms pick you up as if you weigh nothing, and haul you along, struggling with your flailing arms and legs. There's a metallic clang, like a van door opening, then you're half lifted, half pulled up, all while screaming and cursing, hoping someone – anyone – will hear.

Someone speaks a language you don't recognise; your sleeve is pushed up and there's a sharp prick in your arm. Seconds later your brain starts spinning. The faint light that seeps through the weaving of the bag blinks like a starry sky.

You sway back and forth, feeling off kilter and fuzzy, as the voices around you grow all garbled and muted. Someone pushes you backwards, but before you hit the floor, you're out. As the world fades from your consciousness, you just wish you could have seen Bucky one more time.

When you come to, your head is pounding, your mouth is dry, and everything is dark. You try to move, but your hands are shackled, and your feet are bound to whatever you're sitting on. At least you're right side up, you think, before the situation dawns on you, and the contents of your stomach threatens to make an appearance. You swallow thickly. God, your mouth is so dry. Your tongue sticks to the roof of your mouth, and there's not enough liquid to even wet your lips. All you can do is grimace, feeling how they crack and pop. It stings. The taste of metallic, rusty blood coats your tongue.

Your throat itches, so much so that you can't even speak, but you can cough. Hard, like explosions in your head, and it's enough for you to lose your breath.

Something floppy is shoved into your hands.

"It's upside down, you idiot!" someone shouts, and the paper is turned.

Panic surges through your body, and your throat constricts, increasing your coughing. Your heart is racing, but everything happens so fast you just can't process it. Someone removes the bag from your head. The light burns in your eyes, and the shock stops your coughing instantly. Everything is white. There's voices, and movement, but you can't see anything clearly, and for a moment you wonder if you've lost your contact lenses. Slowly your vision returns, but they all keep to the shadows, and they've covered their faces, so you can't make out any details. The buzzing in your ears almost drown out every sound in the room.

"Look straight ahead," they command, and by some miracle you actually manage to move your head. "Keep your eyes open. Ready!"

There's a bright flash, someone else yells "Got it!" and then, in a flurry of motions you're untied, dragged through a dark hallway and unceremoniously dropped on the floor. The door clangs ominously behind you, and you freeze, waiting for someone to grab you or hurt you. There's no one in the room, but you remain in the floor, rubbing your wrists and trying to calm your breathing.

It's cold in your cell, room, whatever people call it, but at least you've got a blanket, and they've fed you, so there's that. But no matter how many times you've asked, nobody tells you anything.

You're over the initial shock now, and the fear has begun to settle into anger, but you're too numb to react.

"Who are you? Why are you doing this to me? I'm no one, never been important in my whole life, hey, someone please say something." Silence. You bang on the door, not sure what you're hoping for. In the back of your mind you know it's risky, but you need to know. The silence is making the walls come closer. You lick your lip. It's bleeding again.

You figure your friendship with Bucky has something to do with your current predicament, but you're not sure exactly what they hope to achieve. It's not like you're best friends or anything, but maybe what you have is enough for him to come for you. That thought sends an electric jolt straight to the small of your back. For a moment you allow yourself to hope, to imagine him blasting through the door and marching in with murder in his eyes, angels singing, and the light surrounding him like a halo.

You laugh grimly. What are even the odds of him finding out where you are? Does he even care? He is the Winter Soldier, after all. He's probably got better things to do, he's busy saving the world, no doubt.

_______________________________________________________________________

Bucky smiles as he walks through the hallway, the ugly carpet muting the urgency in his steps. He can't wait to see you again. It's only been four days, but it feels like forever so the moment he got the all-clear after mission report, he made Sam drop him off at your hotel.

A short walk later he's standing outside your room, heart in his throat and arm outstretched, ready to knock. His stomach dances, pure happiness courses through him. It's been so long since he felt like this; he swears he can almost feel it in his metal arm.

A soft knock. No answer. He knocks again, harder this time. Still no answer. It's only a few minutes past eleven, you won't be asleep yet. You never fall asleep before midnight.

Suddenly it's like someone's poured a bucket of ice water over him. Putting an ear against the door, he listens like some kind of creep, but the room is silent. Maybe you're out. But that doesn't make sense either. It's too dark to get any proper work done, and you're not one for night clubs, or so you've said. Could you have checked out? Bucky's heart skips a beat. What if you're gone? But… wouldn't you at least have left him a message?

Turning on his heel, he marches back to the elevator as if he's got the devil on his tail. There's a really nasty feeling growing in his gut, something he just can't afford to think about now.

He presses the elevator button multiple times, but it takes its sweet time, so instead, he heads to the stairs, taking several steps at once, then skips the steps altogether and jumps over the railing, landing with a heavy thud on the ground floor.

There's a tenseness to his stride as he walks to the front desk, feeling more and more anxious with every breath. He never thought he'd feel this way again; that pit in his stomach and the growing stone in his chest. Last time, he was on a plane, heading for Italy in 1943, not knowing what was waiting for him.

"Excuse me," he says, rather gruffly, spooking the receptionist, though how she didn't hear him stomping through the lobby is a mystery. His own ears buzz loudly, and it's a miracle he can hear her at all.

"Good evening. How may I help you?" She smiles in that professional way people do when they're interrupted and don't really want to talk.

Bucky glances at the reflection in the glass wall behind her. Solitaire. He shakes his head to clear it a bit. "Um, yeah. Is there a message for me? For James Barnes or maybe Bucky."

She looks through the papers on the desk and shakes her head. "Sorry."

He closes his eyes and breathes through his nose. "Okay. Don't suppose you could tell me if Y/N has checked out of room 508?" His brows furrow, but he tries to smile anyway.

Another head shake. "I'm sorry. I'm afraid I'm not allowed to disclose that kind of information." She looks briefly at her screen, then back up at Bucky, fake smile plastered on her face.

Bucky bites his tongue and swallows the rage that's building in him. It's not the receptionist's fault. She doesn't understand. But then he gets an idea. "Right, of course," he says, making his voice sweeter. "But maybe you will allow me to leave her a message?"

"Certainly. Let me grab a pen and paper for you."

So you haven't checked out. From the look on her face, the receptionist doesn't realise she's confirmed his suspicions. Well, he'll leave a message just in case, but it's time for drastic measures.

Outside it's dark now. Low clouds are threatening with rain. No one sees the dark figure slipping around the corner and jumping to grab the lowest rung of the fire ladder. Bucky easily hoists himself up, and climbs to the fifth floor, keeping to the shadows and making as little noise as possible. He knows where the window to your room is, and in less than a minute he's standing on the tiny balcony, peering in.

The room looks untouched. The bed is made, your stuff is all there. There's an almost finished portrait on the sketch pad on the desk; a smiling, content picture of himself. Nothing is missing except you. Bucky is three seconds from losing it.

A cold raindrop hits the back of his neck, drawing him from his haze. Soon the sky has opened up, and he's blasted with icy water. It soaks through his jeans, and drips from his hair into his eyes. Without looking back, he slides down the fire ladder and lands in a puddle. He doesn't know what to do next. Maybe Sam knows, so he ducks back into the hotel to get out of the rain, but before he can make the call, he's interrupted by the receptionist.

"Mr Barnes, I apologise. I didn't see this before. Someone left this for you." The woman hands him a large, brown envelope. All of a sudden he's transported back in time; drowning in flashes of memories of past missions, but he shakes himself out of it. Leaning on the column by the door, he opens the envelope.

There's nothing in there but a photo. It makes his stomach turn, and for the first time since he's been free, he has to fight the rage of the Winter Soldier, expanding, threatening to explode and send him on a vengeance fuelled killing spree. "When? Do you know who delivered it?" His voice is darker than usual, and the woman steps back just from the sound.

"I'm sorry," she squeaks. "It's been here for a couple of days, I think. I wasn't here when it was delivered." She hurries back behind her counter, putting a safe distance between them.

Bucky adjusts his stance, and forces his voice to sound kinder. "Thank you. Is there somewhere I can make a phone call, undisturbed?"

She nods and points to a nook behind the oversized fern in the corner. There's a sliding glass door that will provide some privacy.

Turning the envelope over in his left hand, Bucky is careful to not leave any more fingerprints on it. It is unmarked, but he knows people who can read things that no one else can see.

Whipping out his phone, he dials the first number in the contact list. He doesn't realise it, but he's shaking. The four seconds it takes for Sam to pick up are an excruciating eternity, and Bucky grips the door handle to keep himself from running off without a plan.

Before he can even say hello, Bucky wheezes: "They've got her, Sam!"

"Who?"

"Y/N! They've taken her!" He closes his eyes. The photo has burned into his mind.

"I'm on my way."

Bucky relaxes his grip on the door. There's a dent in the metal, and that makes him even angrier. They've made him lose control. He curses as he exits the tiny room, pacing over the floor, waiting for the voice of reason to arrive.

Being Sam, being Captain America, opens a lot of doors, so when he shows up at the hotel, requesting to look through the surveillance tapes – though it really is a demand; he's got a way with words, Bucky muses, thinking back to when he realised that what he first took as being soft, really isn't soft at all. Anyway, they all fawn over each other, fighting to be the one to give Cap access. Bucky can hardly watch.

"Give us a few minutes," Sam says with a smile, settling in front of the computer.

"Of course." The manager bows and closes the door.

Then Sam turns to Bucky. "Okay. When did you see her last?"

"Four days ago, right before we left on that goddamn mission." He wants to beat himself that he exposed you to danger, and he resists the urge to take out his irritation by slapping Sam over the head. Instead he settles on a flat, emotionless that he hopes conveys all his frustration.

"Right, so somewhere after last Thursday, then." Sam pushes a button, selects the right floor and presses play. Nothing happens for a while, and he pushes a new button, making the footage speed up.

"There!" Bucky shouts, pointing at the screen. There you are. Leaving your room with a large bag over your shoulder. Bucky smiles in spite of his fear. A soft expression on your face and your trusty art supplies at your side. Everything looks normal.

Fast forwarding through the footage, nothing out of the ordinary happens. You return around seven, looking a little bit tired, but happy enough. Food is brought to your room an hour later, and you don't go out again that night.

"Sensible girl," Sam comments, drawing Bucky out of his thoughts.

"Yeah. But she didn't know how much danger she was in."

The night passes in a blur. A drunk couple stumbles through the hallway around two in the morning, but other than that it's quiet, until you leave again around 10am, again with your bag over your shoulder. You look tired, yawning and dragging your feet. The bounce in your step is gone, Bucky notices, and he wonders if it has anything to do with your abduction.

They keep fast forwarding, but when the time stamp shows 11.30pm, Bucky's chest plummets. He knows you're not coming back.

Sam looks at him. “Calm down, man. You look like you’re about to explode!” he hisses, putting his hand on Bucky’s shoulder.

Bucky shakes him off and glares. “Because I’m this close.”

“But that won’t do her any good, will it? We gotta keep our cool, don’t do anything rash.” Sam's voice is still calm. Bucky doesn't know how he does it.

"Fine." Bucky takes a deep breath, just how his therapist taught him. "Show me what direction she went."

Sam clicks and drags the front camera onto the screen. You stop outside for a few minutes, then head down the street towards the city centre. They follow you on the screen until you disappear from view.

There's a shoe shop on the corner where you turned, so after thanking the hotel manager for the help, they follow your moves through the city. The shoe shop doesn't have a quality video, but it's enough to recognise you. Tracking you through the streets feels like an endurance hunt, Bucky thinks, impatient to find out who took you and where you are. That's all he can focus on: to get you back. And god have mercy on your kidnappers if you're not okay. Eventually Sam and Bucky stop at a small restaurant, but they don't have surveillance at all.

"Okay. Let's head to that Starbucks," Bucky says, nodding across the road. "They're bound to have surveillance, right?"

Sam rolls his shoulders. "Let's go."

The video shows three large figures, lurking in the shadows in one of the side streets. They're watching as you enter the café, and when you exit with a large coffee in hand, the gang is ready. The footage jumps a bit, but it captures the terror in your face, and Bucky feels like throwing up. You're hauled into a waiting van, it's an unmarked, normal van, but as it speeds away, luck strikes. The camera got a clear shot of the number plate.

Bucky lets Sam handle the rest. He can't shake the guilt, the pit in his stomach that grows larger and larger. And his anger grows too. Why didn't anybody react, nobody can convince him that nobody heard or saw anything. He watches as Sam talks on the phone, already mentally punching your kidnappers to a pulp. The metal arm flexes involuntarily.

Sam puts down the phone and turns to Bucky. "Okay, so here's what they told me: The van isn't connected to anything, they didn't even have a name for me. It's probably a fake number plate. But they said it's been spotted driving to and from a warehouse not too far from here. Let's go suit up while we're waiting for the address."

Bucky exhales. They better hurry up with the address. You've been in captivity for far too long already.

_______________________________________________________________________

It's quiet in the building now. You don't know what time it is; they've taken all your stuff, but you know it's late. Your eyes sting, both from exhaustion and from wanting to cry, not to mention your contacts are getting dry, but you refuse to remove them – not being able to see would terrify you. But neither sleep nor tears come. Sitting on the cot, wrapped in the blanket they thankfully provided, you are too wound up to relax enough to sleep. What if someone comes in while you're out? There's not much chance to defend yourself, but at least if you're awake  you can try to put up a fight.

How long have you been here? It's hard to tell. After the first shock they've pretty much left you alone. Except for the interrogation a few hours later. They kept asking you about where Bucky is, what he's doing, details on his mission, but you told them, truthfully, that you don't know anything. And they seem to believe you. But they still won't let you go. You sigh and pull the blanket tighter around your shoulders. Even if you knew everything you wouldn't have told them anything, but you didn't say that out loud.

Suddenly there's a loud bang reverberating through the walls. Instinctively you flinch, trying to make yourself smaller. Your blood roar in your ears, and it feels like your heart is trying to beat its way through your rib cage. There's a pause – the silence is deafening, then someone yells. You hear gunshots. Heavy boots rush past your door. It's torture just listening to the fight, not knowing what will happen. What if there's a fire? Or what if you're abandoned here? Is this how you're gonna die?

The fight is getting closer. You drag the blanket over your head, locking your arms around your neck. Unfortunately it doesn't mute the sounds, and you have to remind yourself to keep breathing. Slowly the fight dies down, and for a moment everything is calm. You feel woozy, grateful that you're already sitting down, and you steel yourself for what comes next.

The door opens. Heavy boots slaps against the hard floor. Someone blocks out the light, and you feel a gentle hand on your shoulder, making you flinch and whimper.

A soft voice whispers in your ear. "Y/N?"

You forget to breathe again.

"Y/N," the voice repeats, coaxing you out of your makeshift cocoon.

You look up, and into the eyes of the man you never thought you'd see again. His face is blood-spattered, and his expression is a murderous rage, but the moment your eyes meet, he softens. "Bucky," you breathe, folding yourself out, and reaching for him like a toddler.

He scoops you up, holding you close as you begin to sob into his neck, and he rocks you back and forth until you calm a bit. "Are you hurt?"

Shaking your head, you climb down from his lap and looks over at Sam, hovering by the door. There's a look in his eyes that you can't quite decipher.

"You're bleeding," Bucky says, touching your lip gingerly.

"Oh." You don't know what else to say, as he helps you up on your feet. His arm stays around your shoulders all the way out into open air, and you lean into his embrace. The building is littered with bodies, some are definitely dead, others are being detained by soldiers dressed in black. Your knees buckle from the sight.

"Hey, I've got you," Bucky murmurs into your hair.

"Thank you."

"For what?"

"For coming to get me."

"Of course," Sam says, offering you a reassuring smile. "Why shouldn't we?"

You exhale shakily through your nose. "I thought you were busy saving the world and all."

Bucky pulls you closer.

"Don't you know?" Sam asks quietly, so no one else can hear. "You are his world."

_______________________________________________________________________

@schwarzwaelder-kirschtorte

[platypanthewriter]

Hook Possum 2/4

Art by @monsdasarah​ for Harringrove Big Bang!

CHAPTER ONE

After dinner, Jonathan Byers got out his guitar, and started teaching them camp songs.  Steve resigned himself to weeks of Kum-ba-ya stuck in his head, but they heard a weird grinding, crunching noise in the distance, and Robin whispered “I think that came from the cemetery,” just to freak everyone out.

“The cemetery?!” a boy yelped, and Jonathan started playing The Bell Witch, because he was just as awful as Robin was.

 “Little Betsy, the age of 12/Living in a dream, the first one to scream,” he sang, and Steve groaned into his hands.

“Invisible hands/Leaving their mark in the dark

Night after night/The Bell Witch attacked and attacked

Torturing Betsy/Until a circle was held in candle light.”

 The littlest kids started climbing right up on Hook Possum.  The air filled with stories of the Bell Witch, and how she could travel, she could be anywhere, and how the bathrooms at Camp Butternut Springs were always cold.  

“They’re haunted,” Robin said, and Steve elbowed her, growling.

The bathrooms were always cold, because they were poured cement set in the hill, and the cabins warmer, because they were up the hill where they got some sun, and built of wood.  Steve tried to explain it every year, but every year the kids all started running around and shrieking about the goddamn Bell Witch.  The littlest kids asked Hook Possum to go with them to the toilets as it got dark.

Even Robin ‘Oh, that’s haunted’ Buckley took mercy, and didn’t tell them the local ghost stories.  Yet, anyway, Steve thought.  A small mercy. 

When Steve found a kid crying outside the bathrooms after playing the mirror game—they stared in and said I hate the Bell Witch, over and over, watching until their faces looked creepy and distorted in the low, flickering light—Steve sat down on the ground and patted his little sobbing shoulder, and sighed.

“Look,” he said, “—there’s only one ghost around here, Hook Possum.  Hook Possum is the ghost of possums who get hit by reckless drivers.  The Bell Witch isn’t here, because of Hook Possum, okay?”

“I s-saw s-something,” the kid wailed, clinging to Steve’s arm, and Steve pulled his sobbing hanger-on back to the fire.

“Hook Possum’s our local cryptid,” Dustin was saying, and then he had to explain to the younger kids what a cryptid was.  “Like Bigfoot,” he said, “—or the Loch Ness Monster.  Or the Pope Lick Goat Man.”

“...the what?!” Hook Possum asked, startled, and Dustin’s chest swelled with excitement as his grin widened.  

“The Pope Lick Goat Man,” Dustin breathed, “—was originally a farmer, who sacrificed his goats and who knows what else to Satan.”

“Dustin,” Steve sighed, as the story brought more kids around the fire.  

“He was reborn as a twisted goat man,” Dustin said over him, because Dustin wouldn’t have any frantic children banging on the door of his cabin at two am.  Dustin continued with relish.  “He lives under the train trestles of Pope Lick Creek, mimicking the voices of dead loved ones to lure people into the path of the train.  There have been so many deaths it’s illegal to go near there,” Dustin whispered, to his rapt audience of a bunch of children who were definitely gonna be too scared to go to the toilets that night, and they’d probably wet their beds.

“Dustin, come on,” Steve groaned.

“The trestle is over 750 feet long, and it’s a 90 foot drop,” Will Byers added, and Steve smacked his face into his hands, because he hadn’t expected that epic betrayal.  

“When the train comes, there’s nowhere to go,” Dustin continued, with relish.  “It’s said he’s so terrifying people leap to their deaths at the sight of him, even if there’s no oncoming train.  Ninety feet down into Pope Lick Creek.  That’s like jumping off an eight-story building.”

The kids gasped, and Steve pinched the bridge of his nose as Robin stepped in, grinning evilly.

“He’s been known to jump down from the trestle himself, to attack cars underneath with an axe,” she said.

“Augh!” squeaked one little boy, and the kid Steve had rescued from the Bell Witch mirror game clung tighter to Hook Possum, sniffling.

“Hook Possum has a hook,” Robin told the squeaking kid, once Steve elbowed her hard in the gut, again.  The kid did not look reassured.  “—and the Goat Man lives in Kentucky, over a hundred miles away.”

“Hook Possum jumps on cars too,” Dustin said cheerfully, and Hook Possum said “Wait, what,” again, as Dustin climbed up on one of the logs around the fire, holding his finger like a hook.

“Hook Possum is the vengeful spirit of possums killed by reckless drivers,” Robin explained—far from helping—and started telling tales of drivers stopping to pick up hitchhikers that turned into massive, man-sized hissing possums in the passenger seat of their car.

“One account is weirder, because the guy was super drunk,” she whispered, leaning in, and the kids listened, riveted.  “He picked up a hitchhiker, but when he looked in the backseat, it was just a coat around a fleet of possums,” she said with relish.  “They climbed all over him, scratching and biting—”

“I’m a ghost story?” asked Hook Possum, and Steve spun in place to see him half-shadowed in the light of the fire, the flames glinting off his molded teeth, his empty mesh eyes skull-like.

“Uh,” he said, giving an involuntary shudder.  “Yeah.  Didn’t you know?”

“Don’t let anything get me,” the kid Steve had rescued from the bathroom sobbed, throwing both arms around Hook Possum, and Hook Possum patted their hair.  

“I want real ghost stories,” said one of the kids around the fire, and Hook Possum breathed “You don’t think I’m real, kid?” with a little possum-y hiss in his voice, his silvery plastic hook reflecting the firelight, and the kid yelped.  “I’m scarier than anything else out there,” he growled, and Steve, in all honesty, had to agree.  The kid blinked huge eyes, and Hook Possum patted their head again, clumsily, nearly poking them in the eye as they giggled.  

Steve groaned, smiling, and wondered if Hook Possum knew what he was letting himself in for.  

That night, he patrolled by a cabin of boys talking about two travellers whose car was attacked by metallic thumps, and sure enough, the kids who’d been playing the mirror game and scaring the shit out of themselves all came and banged on the counsellor cabin door shrieking that they’d seen red lights in the woods, and demanded Hook Possum, who ended up costuming back up in the dark.  

Steve helped tie the costume at the back of his neck, and Hook Possum lurched by him to listen to them wail.  Steve could hear his confused growling from inside, and wandered out after a while to help.  

They spent a weird three-quarters of an hour standing in the humid night heat, making up stories about Hook Possum, and Steve maybe, sleepily, told everyone his limited stock of possum facts three or four times.  They eat ticks, the kids started reciting along with him.  Their body temperature is too high to carry fleas.  Steve could feel Hook Possum laughing against his shoulder.  

“Can you sleep hanging from your tail?” one asked, and Hook Possum shook his creepy paper-mache head, shoulders slumped like maybe he really wanted to.  

Steve patted his back.  “Possums can’t actually do that,” he said, grateful to be reminded of a possum fact he’d forgotten.  “They can use it to climb, though.”

“You are not helping,” Hook Possum hissed, as the kids started clamoring for him to climb a tree.  

“Sorry,” Steve whispered back, thinking fast.  “Uh, possums carry their young on their backs—” he started, and stopped, because that was obviously the wrong thing to say, and Hook Possum yelled as he got dog-piled to the ground.  

“Harrington,” he hissed from the ground, and for a second it sounded so familiar Steve paused, frowning vaguely at the lake, until Hook Possum’s yells threatened to wake the whole camp, and Steve had to pick up the top-most flailing child and threaten to throw them all in the water.  

“Go back to bed, all of you,” Hook Possum growled, and one of them hugged him.  

“Will you walk me to the cabin?” she asked softly, and he sighed, staring—maybe—at Steve.  

“Come on, might as well,” Steve told him, and Hook Possum snarled, but let the little girl grab his hook.  He then stumbled off the step edge of the boardwalk around the cabin, flailing his arms, and Steve grabbed him by one gross fursuited paw, clicking his flashlight on.  Since the little girl had the other one, and the whole horde of them trotted along surrounding Hook Possum, which made it slightly less weird to hold hands with him.

On the way back, Hook Possum was still unsteady, even without a kid yanking on him.  Steve tried to keep the flashlight pointed squarely where the guy could see it, but he kept tripping over stuff he couldn’t see in the mask, so Steve kept holding his hand, leaning close to whisper ‘there’s a root in the path,’ and ‘step up here,’ and feeling like he was escorting a drunk date home from a party.  

“...didn’t know you were into possums, Harrington,” Hook Possum muttered, laughing a little, and Steve snickered, thinking of the lines he and Robin had decided on if any kids wanted to talk about—about awkward things, like girls kissing girls.  He hoped they didn’t—he hoped they all talked to Robin, who seemed much more qualified, but he’d practiced saying ‘I’m honored you trusted me’ in the mirror.

“I’m trusting you with my secret possum...thing,” he said, snorting a laugh.  “Aren’t you honored.”

“More nervous,” Hook Possum whispered back, stumbling again.  “Don’t take advantage of me out here, Harrington.  I’ll play dead, I swear to god.  I’ll hiss and bite you.”

“I’d treat you right,” Steve told him, grinning.  “Get you ticks to eat or whatever.  And carrion.”

“Oh, okay then.  Gee.  Thanks, man,” Hook Possum laughed, making a gagging noise.

“Eat your ticks, they’re good for you,” Steve commanded, and felt Hook Possum laughing harder.

When they got back to the cabin—finally—everybody else was trying to sleep, so Steve turned Hook Possum around by the shoulders in the dark, taking the hook, and feeling along under the awful mask to untie the suit.  He helped lift the creepy mask—the face of it felt warm and damp with breath, and Steve shuddered—and then he tugged on the paws as Hook Possum struggled to extricate himself.

“...you don’t have to help,” he said, but he sounded tired, and Steve squeezed his warm naked shoulder.  

“I don’t mind,” he said, and one of the other guys hucked a pillow at them, groaning.

“Get a room,” he mumbled sleepily.

“G’night, Possum,” Steve whispered, snickering again, and Hook Possum shoved him, but Steve was sure he heard a muffled laugh.

 The next morning, everybody was kinda subdued, as usual—the kids that weren’t scared were more homesick than they’d realized, the excited kids hadn’t gotten very much sleep, and the kids that believed in ghosts hadn’t gotten any sleep at all, which was about three-quarters of the camp, thanks to Steve’s best friend Robin “That toilet seat is also haunted” Buckley.  

It was the first really hot day of the summer, so Robin and Steve took everyone canoeing, and the shallows filled with splashing, giggling, and shrieks. Steve trailed his hands in the water, climbing in and out of the canoe at every opportunity to pick kids up so they wouldn’t overturn the boat.  In the middle of the chaos that afternoon, when the kids were mostly too exhausted to row and too full of lunch to swim, but it was too damn hot to want to get out of the water, Hook Possum stalked by, wading straight into the lake, twenty, thirty feet out up to his chin, and just stood there, staring, smoke wafting from his mesh eyes.  

After a few minutes of watching the floating, smoking possum head, Steve stuck his paddle in the water to bring himself to a splashing halt—the kids in the canoe yelped and squealed—and then he shouted paddling orders until they came up alongside the creepy apparition sticking out of the water like a malevolent buoy.

“Ho there,” Steve said, responsibly, “—non-invasive, helpful local wildlife!  Are you in need of assistance?”

Hook Possum coughed, choking, and then growled, shaking his long papier-mache snout.  “Temporary insanity,” he groaned.  “Jesus.  Even the water is warm.”

“Better than sitting in your own sweat,” Steve said cheerfully, having worn the damn thing.  He remembered feeling like a dripping-wet half-rotten kitchen sponge, sitting in a sauna.  

“Kill me,” Hook Possum muttered, sighing, and one of the kids leaned out of the boat and put a baseball cap on him.  

“The shade helps,” she reported, and he sighed, looking even more ridiculous as a bedraggled, haunted possum head, smoke wafting from its empty eye sockets, with a baseball hat over one ear.

“...thanks,” he said, and she nodded, tucking her hair behind her ear, and digging out a tube of sunscreen.  She proceeded to rub it on her ears, nose, and all over the boy next to her, who sighed.

“Uh, just...wave if you...start to drown,” Steve told Hook Possum, wanting to be encouraging, but uncertain how to help someone dying of heatstroke in a horrible old possum mascot costume who was presently up to their neck in a lake.  He couldn’t see any expression on Hook Possum’s face, but he was pretty sure it was the face of someone with nothing to live for.  “Uh.  S’mores tonight?  I think?”

“...I can’t eat in this thing,” Hook Possum groaned, with a plume of eye smoke.

“We can hide in one of the cabins,” Steve told him.  “You can, um, transform.  In there.”

“...like Cinderella?” Hook Possum asked, snorting a laugh, and Steve grimaced.  

“I was thinking more like a werewolf at the full moon,” he said, and Hook Possum’s mask shook with laughter.  “Don’t drown,” Steve told him.  “I mean, if you die, you won’t get the money anyway, so you might as well take the damn thing off.  And I’ll bring you s’mores.  With extra chocolate.  Chocolate is worth it, right?  How d’you like your marshmallows?”

The creepy, lumpy mask turned to him, its mesh eye holes more alarming than ever with the way the sun hit the smoke.  “...you giving me something to live for, Harrington?”

“Don’t die in a possum suit, man, you don’t want that on your gravestone,” Steve said fervently.  “And think about the funeral.  Everybody trying to say nice things and you in that thing.  Have a heart—”

“I think the funeral parlor would probably take it off my body,” said Hook Possum, genuinely laughing, and Steve blinked.

“Oh.  Oh, yeah, they probably would,” he said, nodding.

“Anyway, nobody’d come to my funeral,” Hook Possum said, snickering, and Steve leaned over and smacked his snout.  The water around the canoe splashed a little, and the kids yelped, watching them in exhausted, overheated fascination.

“You’re not a possum,” Steve reminded the guy, who turned his head towards Steve again, probably to stare.  Steve grabbed his painted snout, holding his attention.  “You’re not a real possum.  People would come.  Max would come, and me—”

“...you think?” Hook Possum laughed, and Steve glared.  “Okay, okay, sorry,” he said, sounding like he was grinning.  “I won’t drown.  Hook Possum says no drowning, kids.”

“I used to think Smokey the Bear did that,” said the boy dripping with sunscreen.  “You know, just walked up to you and said ‘don’t start forest fires,’ like that.  This huge bear.  I was terrified.”

“I could just walk up to boaters and say ‘don’t drown,’” Hook Possum snickered.  “Alongside the boats.  Hiss at them.”

“Holy shit,” Steve cackled, letting go of the mask.  “You should.  Do it.  Do it to Robin—her, look, over there—”

Hook Possum turned to look, and then moved silently through the water, his head floating along the surface like a duck gone wrong.  Steve and the kids floated in the water, holding their breaths, until the other boat erupted in shrieks and overturned.

“Oh, he is so getting s’mores,” Steve wheezed, laughing until he could hardly breathe.

 When the kids started to wander towards dinner, Steve found Hook Possum again, hanging onto the dock.  

“You okay, man?” he asked, and Hook Possum nodded silently, so Steve crouched down to have a look.  “You coming in?  It’s cooled off some,” he said, and Hook Possum nodded again, but didn’t move.  “...you need help?” Steve asked, and Hook Possum paused for a second before shaking his head.  

Steve waited, and finally, Hook Possum cleared his throat.  “Fuck off, I can do it, I’m fine.”

He obviously wasn’t.  “You feel sick?” Steve asked, used to the first aid questions after so many summers helping around camp.  “Tired?  Shaky?”

“...just getting...cooled off,” Hook Possum muttered, but he didn’t move.  The lake water was pretty warm, too, and Steve considered it, wondering whether it was even helping.  

“Don’t be an asshole.  You need a shower, some water, and a nap,” he told the stubborn six-foot tall possum clinging to the dock, and it hissed like it was born in the woods.  

“...don’t need a nap,” Hook Possum growled, and Steve laughed.  

“Well, lie down, at least.  You’ve got heatstroke, dude.”

Hook Possum shook his head, so finally Steve jumped in the water next to him, put an arm around him, and pulled him towards shore.  

“What are you doing,” he mumbled, but when he tried to push away he almost fell, so Steve grabbed him tighter.  

“I told you,” Steve sighed.  Hook Possum was staggering, leaning heavily against Steve’s shoulder, and vibrating with tension.  “You’re gonna die in that thing.  You can’t do this all summer.”

“Fuck you,” Hook Possum muttered, tripping as soon as they hit dry ground.

“I’ve got you,” Steve told him, grimacing, because it was probably ungodly humid in the wet fur suit, and he was pretty sure Hook Possum hadn’t taken his mask off to drink any water.  The chatter and occasional yells from the food tent washed over them as Steve took him through camp to the showers.

As soon as they were inside, Hook Possum’s head jerked up.  “Oh fuck no,” he mumbled, pulling away, but Steve held on.  

“You need to get cleaned up and cooled off, and rest up,” he told the scary possum mask.  “Seriously.  You can’t mess with this shit.”

“‘M’fine,” Hook Possum slurred, and Steve shoved him around to untie the suit.  

“I won’t look, jesus, I promise, I’ll close my eyes, okay?  Just lemme help you get this off, and get in the damn shower.”

“...fuck you,” Hook Possum muttered, his shoulders wet and shivery against Steve’s hands.  

With his eyes closed, Steve couldn’t tell whether Hook Possum had the grayish pallor, but he grabbed the moron by the back of the neck and held a hand to his forehead, which was feverishly hot.  

“Get off me,” Hook Possum squeaked, staggering back, and Steve stepped back too, listening to the sounds of sodden fur paws stumbling around.  

“You need me to stay with you?” Steve asked, knowing what the answer would be, but also wary of leaving someone who’d obviously never had heat stroke before.

“I don’t need a fucking babysitter,” Hook Possum snarled, in a deeper register than usual, and it pinged Steve’s brain.  He frowned, standing there trying to think of anyone he knew who was awkward and grouchy but good with kids, and called him Harrington.  “Get out,” Hook Possum said, sounding exhausted.

“I’ll get you some water,” Steve told him.  “Gimme the Hook Possum stuff, I’ll wash it.”

“...it can go in the wash?”  Hook Possum asked, sounding aggrieved, and Steve snorted a laugh.  

“It can go in the washtub,” he said.  “I’ll throw it in and let it dry overnight.”

“Oh,” Hook Possum said weakly, then rallied.  “Thought you were holding out on me.  Secret washing machine in your bunk.  ‘Cause you’re the owner’s son.”

“Yep, just me and the washer, holding each other close,” Steve agreed, rolling his eyes under their lids.  

“You’re into some kinky shit, Harrington,” Hook Possum told him, and Steve felt the gross muddy Hook Possum costume shoved against his arms.  

“Eugh,” he sighed, gathering up the paws and hook.  “You know it.”

“That’s not gonna be dry by tomorrow, is it,” Hook Possum said, woodenly, and Steve wanted to shake him.  

“Look, I can write you an excuse.  Take a sick day.  You can’t get right back in this thing.  It’s fine.”

“...I’ll make it up,” Hook Possum said, in a rush, after a long pause.  “And I’ll find something I can do, so I’m not fucking everybody over wearing this thing—”

“Dude,” Steve sighed.  It felt weird not knowing the guy’s name, but equally weird calling him Hook Possum.  “Relax.  Take a chill pill.  Nobody’s on your ass about this.”  He turned to leave, but Hook Possum started talking again.

“...they make you do all the first aid, or what?” Hook Possum asked, and Steve snorted a laugh at his wariness.

“They teach us all basic first aid,” he said patiently.  “You sure you don’t want me to stay?  Because you sure don’t seem like you want me to leave.”

“Fuck you!” Hook Possum growled, again, rattling at the door of the shower stall like he’d stumbled into it.  

“I’m going, don’t make me explain to Max how you fell and broke your face after I left you in here,” Steve called, heading out, gross stinking wet fur suit in hand.  He dumped the whole thing—except the mask, which he thought might melt, even though it was tempting—into the big wash basin where the kids washed their own clothes, added a ton of soap, and poked it a few times to get the water through the fur.  He found some apples and grapes in the fridge, added some cheese and crackers, and got a plastic cup of water.  He sat it all in his bunk—in case Hook Possum just collapsed in his own—and grabbed the bathrobe he always brought just in case, and Hook Possum’s towel.  

When he knocked at the showers, Hook Possum was silent, so Steve leaned in.  It was dark, but the shower was still running.  “...you alive in there?” he called, and heard Hook Possum laugh.  

“Told you I was fine,” he muttered, burbling with the water hitting his face, and Steve went to lean against the stall door.  

“Oh, sorry, should I put you back in the suit and dump you in the lake?” he asked.  “Or just leave you here to get back to your bunk naked?”  

In the darkness, Hook Possum was just a vague shape, but Steve squinted, trying to make out a face, or something.  “Fuck you,” he said, laughing.  “The hell are you gonna do, carry me in your arms?”

“I could,” Steve told him, always ready for a challenge.  

“Oh, fuck you,” Hook Possum said, laughing harder, and Steve grinned, a little confused.  

“I am the first aid officer, actually,” he bragged, having put himself on the schedule earlier.  “You need me to sweep you across the threshold, I guess that’s what I gotta do.”  There was a muffled grunt and a splashing thud in the stall, and before Steve could think, he had kicked the bottom of the door and jiggled the latch so it popped open, the way he had a zillion times before, when kids crawled under locked stall doors as a prank.  He crouched next to the dark shape in the dim stall as Hook Possum scrambled back.  “You okay?”

“Jesus fuck,” Hook Possum panted in a high voice.  “What in the goddamn are you doing in here.”

“You fell, dipshit,” Steve told him, rolling his eyes.  “Are you okay?”

“Yes!  I am okay!” Hook Possum hissed, wedged in the corner.  “Get the hell out of my shower!”

“Jesus, sorry, didn’t know you were a blushing maiden possum,” Steve told him, holding out a hand to help the guy up, but Hook Possum just groaned into his hands, so Steve shrugged, and left.  The door slammed shut after him and latched.

“Go away,” Hook Possum growled, and Steve snickered.  

“I brought you a towel, and my robe,” he said, and Hook Possum sighed.  “And some water.”

“I’m fine, christ,” Hook Possum muttered.  

“And I got you some grapes and stuff,” Steve told him, halfway out the door.  “In the cabin.  Lot of water in grapes.”

“...I’m okay,” Hook Possum said, after a pause so quiet Steve was wondering if he’d passed out in there.  “Jesus.  I’m not one of your...second graders.”

“No, because then you wouldn’t’ve been wearing that thing, or going without water,” Steve said crisply.  “And I would carry you to your bunk, like a goddamn bride.”

Hook Possum choked on the shower water, somehow, coughing.  

“You’re getting off easy,” Steve told him, his vindication lessened by Hook Possum choking like he was about to die.

“Holy crap,” he panted.

“You’re welcome,” Steve told him.  “I guess.  I hung your gross fur bag out to dry where it’ll get sun.”

“...didn’t even get the full service,” Hook Possum muttered.  It sounded like he was still laughing, exhaustedly.

“What, you want the bridal carry?  Because I’ll do it,” Steve threatened, and Hook Possum said something muffled, like he had his face in his hands.  “I’ll just wait right here, ready to cradle you to my chest,” Steve told him, and Hook Possum groaned, laughing harder.  It was hard to stay mad at him, because he was kind of giggling, in the tired way kids did when they couldn’t stop.  

 He wandered back into the cabin as everybody was singing camp songs, to see a big bony foot sticking out from under the flag covering Hook Possum’s bunk.  It withdrew.

“You awake in there?” Steve asked, grinning.

“...no,” Hook Possum groaned.  “What are you doing here?”

“Brought you some more water,” Steve told him, and after a minute, Hook Possum said “...just set it on the floor.  I’ll drink it, I promise, jesus.”

Steve nodded, and wandered back to the fire. 

PART ONE | TWO | THREE | FOUR

[pixie-dust-and-pain]

Anarchy

It wasn’t supposed to go this far, it was only meant to be a harmless game. An interest intended only to keep her satisfied until she latched onto the next new thing, but he’d crossed the line. Now, she was willing to do whatever it took to bring him to his knees before her. Now, she was going to topple him down from his throne, and throw down his sparkling crown of glass, and show him that glass was made to shatter. She was going to wreck his carefully crafted tyrannical system, pull it apart brick by brick, and leave both it and him vulnerable to the core. She was going to prove to everybody that had placed even an ounce of trust in him that they should’ve condemned him all along. She didn’t care if she wasn’t queen, but she wasn’t going to let him succeed in being the king. She was going to declare anarchy. 

Warnings: slight sexual innuendo

I wrote this during class

(I haven't used Tumblr that much yet so I'm not aware of the layout of general fanfics, so please do enlighten me)

Chapter 2

She closed her eyes, absentmindedly tapping the wooden desk with her fingertips as she waited for Slughron to move onto her table. He was currently chiding Olive Hornby for not cutting her leaves the right size and having chopped them too big. She rolled her eyes, annoyance prickling at her as she frowned in his direction. The old coot had already wasted half the class praising Tom Riddle. Surely, he could cut short his ravings and move on now.

Finally, he moved onto her desk, and peering at her result, he arched a brow. He seemed confused for a second, before a satisfied grin made its way onto his lips. “You are a natural, my dear. The ingredients were rather simple and watered down, I didn’t think that a student of your age could’ve made such an advanced potion. I must say, I hadn’t expected this much, but well done…” he trailed off, probably indulging himself in fantasies of how having two top-students from his house would be a bonus.

She smiled politely at Slughorn, a satisfied feeling pooling in her. The moment he left, however, her eyes drifted to Tom Riddle, and she smiled at him in cruel content. He glanced at her, a bored expression occupying his face, and turned back to his book. It wasn’t much, but she didn’t care. She’d gotten his attention, at least.

She didn’t know why she was doing this. Truly, it was a lot less productive than her other occasional indulgences. But he’d been Hogwarts’ best student for far too long, and she was getting tired of having his praises sung every time she entered a room. She’d been surprised at the amount of self-control she had, especially since she had managed not to slap a person every time they spoke his accomplishments and prided herself for her restrain.

She wasn’t one to engage in academic excellence. For what she had planned, wasting her time on good grades, paying attention in classes that teach her about topics she already knows, and obtaining useless knowledge was unnecessary, but she had to admit, it did feel good to be the top of the class, even if it was just once. 

Her eyes wander to Riddle again, and this time, she stares. She wouldn’t lie to herself by admitting that he wasn’t conventionally attractive, he had, after all, made her blush a time or two, but he was just so perfect it was odd. Surely, nobody could be that flawless. And so, she’d dug, scraped together pieces of information, observed him through the shadows, noted how his “friends” seemed to cower before him, and how they used to turn pale after an accident or even a lousy slip of tongue.  

It had been easy for her to do so. She was a nobody in the castle, insignificant, and weak. She wasn’t exactly “under the radar”, but she wasn’t the sort to be suspected. She was sweet and innocent and weak, and an overall shame to Slytherin. She didn’t care much of it, her reputation, the bullying it caused, it was all a trivial matter. They were small consequences as opposed to the advantages she’d gained. Sweet and gentle girl she was, how could she ever cause anybody any harm? And thus, she’d been granted access to the restricted section, occasional visits to the forbidden forest (with a professor, naturally) and an immediate exclusion to suspicion every time something went wrong.

She’d worked hard to build up her image as the harmless little damsel in distress, and the teasing and exclusion from the general Slytherin body was a small price to pay. It wasn’t that they didn’t like her (they adored her, actually) but that Hogwarts ran on a hierarchal system, and the rulers of the system seemed to have it in for her and her so-called “disgrace” to the Slytherin house, and so everybody who seemed to be more than a mere acquaintance to her was immediately shunned. She supposed it had something to do with her open acceptance of muggleborns, but she couldn’t seem to bring herself to care.

She steals a glance at him again, and he wasn’t even looking in her direction, far too immersed in his book to care. Or, at least, that was how he made it out to be. She knew he cared; it would be ridiculous if he didn’t. She smiled to herself, basking in the knowledge that she’d gotten his attention.

But she’d done so much more than just that, hadn’t she? She couldn’t help the grin that spread across her face. She’d upstaged him.

~*~

“Ellison,” a smooth voice says, pulling her out of her trance. She snaps the book shut hastily, casting a non-verbal spell to change its name and prays that he doesn’t notice.

“Hi?” She offers, smiling awkwardly. She hadn’t thought this far, really. She’d just expected to be confronted by one of his cronies or to have him send her annoyed glares now and then. Total confrontation? Well, that was a bold step.

“May I join you?” He asks, gesturing to the empty seats next to her. She nodded, still keeping the awkward smile on. He should’ve realized by now it was a desperate cry for help.

It was an awkward silence after that, interrupted by only the occasional turning of page. It’s odd, and she pauses, paying the utmost attention to the boy next to her. He doesn't seem to realize that she has stopped, and if he does, he makes no move to acknowledge it. It's quiet, and she realizes that she's the only one who's been turning her page all this time. "Are you alright?" she finally asks, raising a brow at him.

"Yes, why do you ask?"

"Well, you haven't turned your page once since you've gotten here, and seem to be having trouble with-" she peers over, and raises a brow, “-the acknowledgements,”

"And you've paid all that precious attention to me instead of focusing our on your," he pauses and squints at the title, "Kamasutra,"

She doesn't have the shame to blush, and only silently curses herself for not paying more attention to what she’d renamed the book as, "Look, Tim-"

"Tom," he sharply corrects.

"Whatever, I don't want any trouble. And it wasn't me who asked to sit next to you, now was it?” And honestly you just sitting there like a statue is creepy,”

“How did you do it?” he asks finally, leaning back into the chair and studying her. She has to admit, his undivided attention feels nice.

“Do what?” beat you in potions? Then defense against the dark arts? She doesn’t voice her thoughts out loud, and gets up and shoves her items hastily into her bag.

“Make the potion,” he says. It’s a clever dodge.

She smiles wryly at him, “I’m not that much of a dunce, Riddle,”

“Well, you haven’t exactly made your abilities clear before, have you? How the sudden change?”

“I’m late for class-”

“It’s lunch,”

“Even worse, then.” She tries to leave, but he grabs her wrist. His grip is painful, and she wonders how dire the consequences would be if she twists his hand.

“I don’t take well to being ignored, Ellison,” he says, his grip bruising and his eyes glinting. She doesn’t feel scared, then, only more aware. It was a dangerous game she was playing, and Tom Riddle could, if he wanted, hurt her. It was an intoxicating feeling, knowing that what she was doing had the potential to be life-threatening if she wanted it to. She hasn’t had the sweet taste of danger in so long, it feels freeing to acknowledge it again.

She smiles demurely, the picture of submission, and twists his wrist in reply as she wrestles her hand out of his. The only sign of him being pained by the even tis his sharp intake of breath.

It’s like gambling, this strange interest of hers. It has obvious consequences, but it’s just so entertaining. She walks out of the library, glancing only momentarily at the spot he’d grabbed her. She can see his fingerprints, a bruising shape on her wrist, clearly visible. This was going to be fun.

[thesaltofcarthage]

Penzey’s Spices on Loki

Like everybody, Jeri and I look for shows to watch. Sometimes things are recommended, other times something just pops up and you give it a try. In that "just give it a try" category was the English version of Wallander. It’s well acted and you care about the characters but its four seasons really are a long, dark spiral. Ultimately, in the very last moment it ends in a way as a cook I think you would appreciate, but the road there is hard. If you were to watch it you should give serious thought to watching the episodes in backward order, that way the show’s arc would be ever more hopeful, ever brighter.

Somewhere watching the show, towards the end of the first season or beginning of the second, I actually paused the show and said to Jeri, “That guy.” As I pointed to one of the junior detectives in the back of the scene. “Why won’t someone give that guy a show? I could watch him read the phone book.” With the way he almost never got any lines this would mean him reading the phone book silently to himself, but I was okay with that. In the bleakest of shows he somehow managed to deliver humanity with just the look upon his face. Most every scene he was in became something better, something more decent just because he was there.

Flash forward 10-12 years and that actor, Tom Hiddleston, now does have his own show, Loki, on Disney+ and since the universe responded to my request, I feel obliged to put in a plug for it. Plus, it’s starting to cook. New episodes air every Wednesday. Last week’s episode was a breakthrough and in many ways was a retelling of the Grinch story where Loki’s heart grows not one, not two, but three times larger simply by coming to understand firsthand he is someone worth loving. In some ways it reminded me of the also very worthwhile Elton John biopic Rocketman. Good stuff all around.

And of course this is one of those shows with a mystery behind about who really is in charge and what they really are up to and those shows never end with viewers happy with the big reveal. As I was explaining to the kids just last week, as much as it may well seem like naming a street after a living person is a really good idea, in the moment it rarely is. But even if, as hinted at, Loki only gets this “one brief shining moment” to be good and find happiness within the Marvel Universe, it’s still a good moment to be a part of. Obviously Loki has some work ahead of him and obstacles to overcome if he is to prove he is indeed a good friend to Möbius, but I’m rooting for him.

Earlier in the season in a restaurant scene that wasn’t really a restaurant scene, there was a discussion over what to order and one of the options was potato skins. This started a discussion in the Penzey house. Jeri and I will be married 19 years next month and to the best of our recollections in all those years I’ve never made her potato skins. The kids have never even had them. So, start with larger baked potatoes the way you like to bake them. If you are new to baking potatoes, wash them, poke them with a fork 8-9 times all around and then place them in a 400-degree oven for about an hour turning once while baking. They are done when they “give” when squeezed, or if you prefer to use a thermometer when the center reaches 205 degrees.

You can bake these a day in advance, but they are even better the same day. Let them cool for a bit and then cut potatoes into thirds lengthwise (this is the fun bit :) ) then scoop out the center part of the potato leaving about 3/8ths of an inch of potato still attached to the skin. In the old days I would butter the inner part of the potato, now it’s a drizzle of olive oil. There are trade-offs in life. Then a good sprinkling of Sandwich Sprinkle followed by the shredded cheese of your choice. Inspired by Loki visiting 1985 Oshkosh, Wisconsin in the second episode, I went with three cheeses: mozzarella, 2-year Cheddar, and pepper Jack. Wisconsin is fun.

Next comes bacon or no bacon. Usually I’m not a crispy bacon kind of person, but for this if you want to use it, precooking it to crispy and then crumbling is the way to go. And if you picked up the Potato of Love as part of our June Rainbow Pride giveaway, this is a really good spot to use those. Then it’s just a matter of placing them in the oven until they reach your desired level of melty. I like them just a little bit browned, but the kids had not had them before and we wanted these to be liked.

While they cooked I mixed 1 tsp. Justice Seasoning with 1/4 cup Sour Cream and Jeri cut up and lightly mashed a medium avocado to which we added 1 and 1/2 tsp. Salsa & Pico Seasoning and served these on the side. We had a hit! Jeri said we should do these more often. And Grandma Ruth, who loves nothing more than sacrificing for her grandkids, quickly grabbed seconds before the kids even noticed the supply wasn’t endless. This made me so happy!

If you have access to Disney+ please consider giving Loki a try. To get people to cook they have to see the value in caring for one another. There’s not a lot of shows out there that radiate this. Ultimately as the show itself says: “Most things in history are kind of dumb and everything gets ruined eventually.” But for now we have Camelot quotes and DB Cooper and people caring about each other.

And if a segment of this year’s Emmys is to be Tom Hiddleston, Owen Wilson and Sophia Di Martino quietly reading the phone book to themselves I would be good with that. But Wilson has a whisper like no other. They probably should consider using that. And maybe if Wunmi Mosaku was up there with them as the one who isn’t getting many lines now but should have her own show ten years from now, that would be good as well. Progress matters.

Thanks for reading, thanks for being our customer,

Bill bill@penzeys.com

(Penzey’s Spices is an online spice merchant with a liberal bent. The company spent $92,000 on ads calling for Trump’s impeachment. Penzey’s actively donates to the Trevor Project and local charities, and promotes vaccination, voting, funding teachers, and helping in your community. They speak out often and ferociously against racism, including giving away BLM stickers with their orders. And their spices are THE. BEST.)