#friendly mash ups

[djbadthaproblem]

Juelz Santana "Friendly" (Feat. A Boogie Wit Da Hoodie) (DJ BAD THA PROBLEM Mash Up)

[teddi-bearly]

I’m not Catholic but I would go to Father Mulcahy’s confessionals just to chat with him

[virpiablccdnerd]

Asbestos friendly moon rock veneers

[sunderwight]

A fun prospect for Superhero-themed SV AU's that I don't often see is genre dissonance. Like, Luo Binghe as this edgy 90's style antihero who just straight up kills his enemies and sleeps around and is driven by selfish motives (revenge, ambition, etc) rather than altruistic morality, vs Shen Qingqiu as this kid-friendly supervillain who is "evil" mostly in terms of aesthetics and his ability to make inconvenient problems that are reasonably safe for child heroes to solve. Something like Punisher vs Team Rocket in terms of vibes.

Maybe the reason they meet is because some big publishing house akin to Marvel or DC just bought up the rights to whole bunch of older, discontinued comics titles, and decided to do a Justice League/Avengers style mash-up with a bunch of nostalgia properties and their most recognizable heroes and villains. Which means lots of crossovers condensing several titles into a handful of series.

Luo Binghe's origin always features him as a teenager, so he reboots as the youngest Avenger-equivalent team member in the new continuity. Even in this reboot, however, the writers still mostly go the gritty and dark route with his plots and stick to the same key developments -- his abandonment as an infant, his adoptive mother's tragic death, his tough life on the streets, abusive mentors and backstabbing "allies", and so on.

But Luo Binghe's life suddenly starts experiencing periods of dramatic change in his life when he's brought in for appearances in the lighter, friendlier world of the Junior Heroes continuity. After all, he's a natural choice for tying the two continuities together thanks to his youthfulness. Luo Binghe isn't consciously aware of the fact that he's moving between different titles and different writers. All he knows is that sometimes, when he hangs out with the bright and talented Ning Yingying, he's drawn into "conflicts" with Shen Qingqiu -- the kind of "villain" who will call for tea breaks, never actually hits anyone when he shoots his ray gun, leaves clues for all of his crimes, and can't seem to stop from imparting genuinely helpful advice in between his witty quips and taunts.

When Luo Binghe fights Shen Qingqiu, somehow he never actually gets hurt. Neither do any of his friends. The world in general seems brighter and lighter, as if there is some secret barrier protecting everyone from all the evils Binghe knows only too well exist in the rest of his life. Luo Binghe is increasingly convinced that Shen Qingqiu is the source of this mystical safety net. After all, for an allegedly powerful genius who is able to fool half the world about his wicked aims, he's never won a single fight against a kindhearted but somewhat ditzy teenager and her ragtag bunch of friends!

So what's he spending his actual energy on?

Luo Binghe is pretty sure it's keeping the real evils at bay. Making himself the biggest bad in town, and in doing that, making it so that the "biggest bad" is nothing worse than a slightly judgmental teacher in a pretty costume.

It's not long before Luo Binghe doesn't want to go back to the Justice League equivalent, to his world of misery and strife, even after his visits with Ning Yingying are supposed to be over. Especially as the global stakes of various heroic activities start getting higher, and it becomes clear that the boundary between Shen Qingqiu's safe world and the grimdark reality of Binghe's usual life are getting thinner...

[goldfades]

Joe burrow blurb where he gets baby fever seeing reader taking care of his nephews

thanksgiving at the burrow house is exactly what you expected and nothing you expected, all at the same time.

you’d prepped yourself for a cozy, midwestern vibe—homemade pies, mismatched dinnerware, maybe a friendly debate over the best way to make stuffing. and, to be fair, all of that was true. what you didn’t expect was how loud and chaotic it could get, with joe’s cousins piling into the house like it’s a college frat reunion and his mom somehow keeping everyone in line with just a stern look and a well-timed plate of cookies.

you’re in the kitchen with robin, helping her plate the turkey, when you hear joe yell from the living room. “there’s no way you beat me at madden again!”

robin shakes her head, a fond smile on her face. “he’s just mad he’s not the best at everything.”

you laugh, grabbing the mashed potatoes. “i’ll remind him later that humility is a virtue.”

“good luck with that, sweetheart,” robin says, giving you a knowing look.

by the time everyone sits down to eat, the table is overflowing with food, and joe’s already piled his plate high. he’s sitting next to you, of course, his knee bumping against yours under the table every so often like he just can’t help himself.

“so,” one of his uncles says, his fork hovering over the green bean casserole. “when are you two gonna give us some real thanksgiving entertainment and start a family?”

your face heats instantly, and you glance at joe, wide-eyed. but he just leans back in his chair, totally unbothered, a sly grin spreading across his face.

“well, we’ll see,” he says, glancing over at you like he’s enjoying this a little too much. “depends on if i can convince her to name the kid after me.”

“joe jr.,” one of his cousins says, throwing his hands in the air like it’s the obvious choice.

“absolutely not,” you say firmly, stabbing a piece of turkey for emphasis. “we’ve had this discussion.”

the whole table erupts into laughter, and joe just shrugs, clearly enjoying your flustered reaction. “we’ll work on it,” he says, giving you a wink.

despite the teasing, it’s impossible not to feel completely at home. every time someone passes you a dish or asks how you like the stuffing, you’re reminded just how much joe’s family has embraced you as one of their own.

later, when the dishes are done and everyone’s gathered in the living room watching football, joe pulls you onto the couch beside him, tucking you under his arm.

“so,” he murmurs, his voice low enough that only you can hear. “what do you think? could you see us hosting thanksgiving someday? our kids running around, stealing all the rolls?”

you glance up at him, your heart doing that familiar little flip it always does when he looks at you like this—soft and sure, like he already knows the answer.

“maybe,” you say, leaning into him with a smile. “but only if you cook the turkey.”

“deal,” he says, pressing a kiss to your temple. and in that moment, you can’t imagine a future more perfect.

later, joe’s leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed over his chest, a small smile tugging at his lips as he watches you sit cross-legged on the living room floor. his nephew, who’s barely two, is perched in your lap, babbling nonsense while you pretend to understand every word like it’s the most important conversation you’ve ever had.

you’re a natural with kids, and it’s obvious. the way you hold his nephew steady while he wobbles trying to stack blocks, the exaggerated gasp you give when the tower falls over, making the little guy burst into giggles.

“oh no! our masterpiece!” you exclaim dramatically, hands to your cheeks, and joe’s nephew dissolves into another fit of laughter.

joe chuckles under his breath, but his heart does this weird little thing it’s been doing more and more lately—this tight, warm ache that leaves him feeling soft in a way he can’t quite explain.

“you’re just gonna stand there, or are you gonna help us rebuild?” you tease, glancing over your shoulder at him.

he steps into the room, crouching beside you. “looks like you’ve got it handled,” he says, nudging your shoulder with his. “you’re a natural.”

“i had a great assistant,” you say, ruffling his nephew’s hair. the toddler immediately grabs your hand, trying to pull it toward the blocks.

joe doesn’t say anything for a moment, just watches the way you interact with his nephew—the way you encourage him to try again, the way you laugh when he tries to stack the biggest block on the tiniest one, the way you look at him like he’s the most amazing kid in the world.

“you’re really good at this,” joe murmurs, his voice softer now.

you glance up at him, a little shy under his gaze. “thanks,” you say, brushing a strand of hair out of your face. “kids are fun. exhausting, but fun.”

joe nods, his eyes flicking between you and his nephew, who’s now trying to climb into your lap again. something about the scene makes that warm ache in his chest grow stronger. he doesn’t say it out loud, but the thought’s already rooted itself in his mind: he could picture this. you. with your kid. with his kid.

“what?” you ask, catching the look on his face.

he just shakes his head, a small, almost bashful smile tugging at his lips. “nothing,” he says, leaning down to press a quick kiss to your temple. “just... you’re incredible, that’s all.”

“oh, please,” you say, rolling your eyes, but your smile gives you away.

joe doesn’t press the matter, but later, when his nephew’s napping and you’re curled up beside him on the couch, he’s already imagining what it’d be like to have a little one of your own. and the more he thinks about it, the more he knows he doesn’t just want it—he wants it with you.

[luveline]

Hi there! I hope your day’s been going well :)

Could you maybe write something with Spencer where Reader faints? Feel free to ignore this if you’re not up for it!!

thank u for ur request! fem!reader, 1.6k

"It's so hot," you say, startled. The lobby of the hotel had been blissfully air-conditioned. The difference hits you immediately. 

"Don't worry about blazers or professional attire," Hotch says, though he quickly amends, "within reason."

You take off your jacket and follow the herd of the BAU into the black SUVs. The SUVs are even hotter than the outdoors, blistering ovens of heat that have you feeling nauseous instantaneously. Spencer rubs your arm with the back of his hand swiftly —it's a friendly touch to say he's here, but it's quick to prevent any unnecessary added heat. 

It's August in Texas, 107 degrees Fahrenheit. Emily smells distinctly of sunscreen from the front passenger seat. Derek, behind the wheel, looks hot around the collar. Spencer looks as though he wishes he'd had a haircut before he came, chin length curls tucked tight behind his ears. 

Despite this, none of them complain beyond the general whine every now and then. You try very hard to shut up and focus on the case with them, but as the day goes on, bumping you from hot car to hot crime scene (with all inclusive smells of gore!), you feel wobbly on your feet. 

"Spence?" you ask, sitting in a hard-backed chair in the police precinct. 

"Yeah?" He doesn't look away from the geographical profile he's building. You're supposed to be helping, but your notes are half-hearted, likely useless. "What?" 

"Do you have any water?" 

He pushes a pin into the left of the map and grabs a ruler. "No, sorry. There's a staff room by the bullpen, the secretary said to help ourselves. Actually, she said to 'go ham.'"

"Okay. I'll be right back. And I'll be more helpful." 

"You're plenty helpful," he murmurs, leaning down to follow the line of his rules with a pencil. 

You don't feel helpful, you feel awful. Head heavy, eyes aching, every step sends a jolt through your teeth and jaw, your skull like a mashed potato. You know you're a poor sight with sweat wetting your hair and a crawling sensation between your legs and the fabric of your pants. 

Letting yourself into the staff room, you're unsurprised to find a bone dry water cooler and a crate of water bottles with only one remaining. Spencer needs a drink too, and he has a thing about germs. You frown at the water bottle as though that might duplicate it, but when it doesn't, you're forced to take it and put it under your arm. You look around for a mug to at least have some tap water no matter how ill-advised that may be. They're all dirtied in the sink and on tables. Fuck. 

Spencer is super, super lovely to you. You wonder sometimes if he might ask you out, or at least want to, but most of the time you're sure it's just a little extra friendliness because he knows how it feels to be the youngest on the team, how patronised or lonely it gets. And the weight of trying to prove yourself every mission, it's almost as heavy as your head. 

"Hey," Spencer says as you open the conference room door. "I think I've worked something out. Could you call Garcia for me? I've got dry-erase marker on my hands." 

"Got this for you," you say, offering him the bottle. He takes it without looking. 

"Thanks. Are you feeling any better? I know you can be sensitive to the heat." 

"Maybe we can get portable fans on the FBI budget next year," you say wistfully, pushing a chair in at the table. You lean on it to grab the phone in the middle of a sea of papers and cases and jackets, black spots popping up in your vision. "My head's rushing." 

"Hey, guys," Emily says, sounding strangely chipper as she and Hotch trudge in. Her hair is in a tight ponytail away from her face. 

You try to greet them and end up hanging your head. 

"Y/N," Spencer chokes, alarmed.

You slump forward over the chair, desperate to keep your footing and failing. Your shin knocks into the chair and your hands grasp at the top of it, but you can't hold yourself up any longer, knocking your face into the chair as you collapse. A cheap tent in a strong breeze, you fall with little more than a weak sigh. 

You're hurting a lot when you come to, blinking like your lashes have been brushed with glue. The lights have been turned off, and a blissful chill soaks your hairline. Someone presses a water bottle to your lips and lifts your head. You drink half the contents in three gulps and get laid down again with the utmost care. 

"She's coming around," Hotch says. 

Your neck aches propped over a leg. Two deft hands hold your head still. 

"Don't move too much," Spencer says, his voice odd. You blink as his face moves into view upside down. "An EMT is on the way, okay? You passed out." 

You can't find your voice. Spencer strokes your cheek with his thumb, says, "Hey, can you hear me? Let's hear your voice. Talk to me." 

"You don't sound like yourself," you say hoarsely, each word tenuous. You wince at the bruising heat that radiates from your nose with each word. 

"I'm worried about you," Spencer admits. "It makes it hard to stay objective." 

"No, you sound funny." 

"I'm worried," he repeats. His smile is strained. 

"She's okay," Hotch says. 

You realise Emily's got your hand in hers when she squeezes it. "Have you had anything to drink today?" she asks you, fondly incredulous. 

"No, she hasn't, and I didn't say anything about it. I'm an idiot. I'm so sorry, Y/N," Spencer says. 

"Y/N's responsible for her own preservation, Reid. And it's been a tough case, with the heat. Let's not blame anyone for anything." You press your chin to your chest to see Hotch's anxious frown. "We will be having a discussion about this later." 

You turn your face into Spencer's thigh. "Oh." 

"Don't close your eyes," Hotch says. He employs a firm, boss-like tone that has you rushing to follow orders. "You hit your head." 

"I don't feel well," you complain, wanting to close your eyes.

"Considering your behaviour," Spencer says, one of his hands trailing down your face, neck, and collar, where he rests it genially, "you likely have a mild to moderate concussion. And you're dehydrated, so you'll be feeling the effects more severely."

"Why haven't you been drinking?" Emily asks. 

"I just…" You blink sluggishly. "I don't know… We don't take anything that isn't coffee with us places and…" You lean your cheek into Spencer's hand, not quite connecting that it's his hand, or that you're laying on the precinct floor. "They only had one bottle in the staff room." 

"Why didn't you drink it?" Spencer asks softly. 

"I knew you hadn't had anything to drink, either." 

"We could've shared," he says, sounding genuinely confused. 

"You don't like sharing stuff like that. Germs." 

Spencer's voice is barely above a whisper, "I wouldn't care about your germs, Y/N. They're your germs." 

You don't have time to ask him what he means, but you've ample time to think about it on loop when the EMT arrives. He props you up, checking you over thoroughly, shining a light in your eyes and deeming you concussed.

"You don't have to see a doctor," the EMT advises. "But we're happy to take you to the hospital if that's what you want." 

"Yes," Spencer says, as you say, "No." 

Spencer puts a hand on your shoulder blade. It is an extremely forward move on his part, so unlike him that you recognise how odd it is despite your foggy mind. "She should go." 

"She fainted, Spencer," Emily says. 

"Exactly! So she should go to the hospital and–"

"I didn't break anything," you say, waving a shaky hand at the small but concerned crowd of people you've attracted. 

"Luckily," the EMT says. "Drink plenty of water and take it easy. Don't be afraid to call again if you feel worse." 

Hotch walks the EMT out, needing to take a phone call. Emily goes with him, promising to return with a dry shirt for you to wear now that yours has been soaked at the collar by the water they'd been cooling you down with while you were unconscious. 

Spencer settles practically knee to knee with you in two of the uncomfortable chairs, his assessing gaze frankly perturbing. 

"You'd share germs with me?" you ask. 

Spencer's hand leaps across the gap to yours where it rests on your knee. His eyes, brown and sweet, have all the light of a blinding smile as his lips quirk into something more sheepish. "If it stopped you from fainting, yeah. And even if it didn't, I'd be stupid to care about germs when I…" 

You breathe out slowly. "When you what?" 

"Well," he says, looking down at your hands. "I guess I just wouldn't mind your germs, that's all." 

If he's saying what you think he's saying, he's doing it in the most Spencer Reid way possible. Concussed, your charisma fails you. You've no wit to tease him with. 

You fold your hand around his. "Thanks for catching me," you say gently. 

He squeezes your fingers clumsily. "You're welcome. But it was actually mostly Emily." 

[charliemwrites]

Hello, hello! Per ceilidh's request - a Soap x Reader ficlet from the prompt thingy.

#11 "You tricked me."

I was heavily inspired by that tiktok sound (iykyk)

Rating: M CW/TW: brief/vague torture, threat of SA (doesn't happen), manipulation, dark!Soap

Being a medium in the military isn’t that much different from being a medium anywhere else.

The rules are roughly the same. Don’t talk to ghosts in living company. Don’t join idiotic 2am summoning circles. Try to help the ones you can; try not to lose sleep over the ones you can’t.

Oddly, there aren’t as many ghosts on a base as any given suburban house. Depends on the base, of course, but a reassuring number of former-military souls continue to their final rest. Even if their bodies (or parts of it) don’t make it back, tags and a symbolic burial usually suffice.

The 141’s main base only has a handful. A few you’ve already gotten closure for, sent off into the beyond. The others you’re working on, or already know they’re a lost cause. Most of them are even friendly!

There’s a corporal that haunts the mess and laments mashed potatoes. A captain appears in Price’s office occasionally, his residual energy glaring down at reports and rustling at phantom papers. On the range, you sometimes speak to the ghost of a prostitute murdered by some piece of shite back in ye olde times. She doesn’t talk back – can’t with a crushed windpipe – but she smiles when you have the privacy to acknowledge her.

Your favorite, though, is Johnny. He’s a comparatively new spirit, by your estimate. Lots of energy, still coherent. You can’t tell how he died by looking at him, but that’s not unusual. It could have been internal bleeding, or a stroke despite his youth. He won’t tell you his last name despite all your asking, always just laughs.

“Yer no’ gettin’ rid o’ me tha easily!”

He always lays the Scottish accent on in a thick velvet blanket. You want to wrap yourself up in it.

Yes, the rules for being a medium are the same, even on a military base. The main one: don’t get haunted by feelings.

That was never a concern, never even a thought, until Johnny. Until you caught his eye around Price’s shoulder during your introductory tour. He followed you for hours, interjecting little asides that put your selective hearing to the test. Always orbited just close enough to send chills down your spine and goosebumps up your arm.

You confronted him when you’d finally been dismissed back to your barrack, whirling around as he popped his mohawked head through the door. Despite yourself, you made quick friends with him.

He’s an unusual ghost. Doesn’t seem tied to a particular place or thing on base. Isn’t trapped along the same paths he walked in life. He’s always solid or near solid, doesn’t waver at certain times of day. You’re utterly charmed by his unorthodoxy, by his miraculous non-existence. And by the fact that, while he knows your secret – as all spirits do – he seems more intrigued than solicitous.

It's not that you blame other ghosts – the coherent ones – for wanting help. It’s torturous to toe that line, not alive but not at peace. Stuck and dwindling little by little. You can’t imagine what it feels like, but you can sense from some that it’s frightening, and cold. No, you’re not bothered that they ask for help. Or with the ones that are just angry; they have every reason to be.

Johnny, though… he’s special. You don’t feel so alone with him, even if the room looks like it to an outsider.

“Oh, aye, that’s pure dead brilliant. You know they’re sending you to Russia?”

You flick Johnny a glance. He’s leaning over Price’s shoulder, peering at the briefing docket that’s actively being explained. You don’t mind the extra or early info. Saved your ass a couple times before.

Your lack of response ruffles his feathers though. He stalks through the table to Gaz, flicks his pen right off the surface. You snort softly as he curses under his breath and ducks to retrieve it, trying not to interrupt Price. You make eye contact with Johnny, blink and minutely shake your head. He can see the twitching at the corners of your mouth anyway.

He smirks and wades through solid objects back to you. His presence looms behind your shoulder, an uneasy flicker at the edge of your consciousness. Like this he seems bigger, inhuman beyond ghostliness. Rougher and darker in the corner of your vision. You’ve done a double-take and gotten teased for skittishness enough times by now to quell the urge to check. It’s always just Johnny.

You’re paired with your lieutenant, Ghost. He’ll be watching with his sniper while you’re on infil. Usually, you’re paired with Gaz, but he and Roach will be at the other end of the compound taking out a target.

When the team is dismissed, Ghost only pauses long enough to give you a nod before skulking off. Not unusual for him; you take no offense. Johnny, however, is scowling something fierce after him.

For whatever reason, he’s never been a fan of your LT. The one time you asked, the lights started flickering and Johnny dismissed the question with a sharp “just don’t like him.”

You suspect that it’s because Ghost was your mentor when you joined the 141. The two of you spent the majority of your time together, training you up to run with the rest of the squad. Due to his constant proximity, your ability to respond to Johnny was greatly hindered.

Still is with how observant Ghost is. Have almost blown your cover several times and had to really watch yourself, and your reactions. You think Johnny might resent him for that.

Back in your barrack, though, Johnny happily chatters while you gear up for the mission. Base gossip and bits of intel he shouldn’t know and shouldn’t tell you. It’s standard ritual for you two; he likes to talk, and you’re accustomed to listening. You hum in the right places, storing tidbits away for your own amusement later.

A playful tug to your bitch-strap makes you yelp, then laugh when you catch Johnny’s grin. He does it again, loosening one of the buckles on your thigh. You swat him uselessly, retightening it only for him to pluck at your bootlaces while you’re occupied. He’s got so much energy, for a ghost. So adept at interacting with the physical world.

“Quit it!” you giggle, trying to dodge his darting hands.

“Why should I?” he chuckles. You curse as he gets a finger in your harness and jerks, misaligning it with the rest of your gear.

“I’ll banish you,” you lie, wriggling various straps back into place.

“Oh, sweet girl, it would take a lot more than you’ve got to get rid of me now.”

It’s an odd turn of phrase for him, but it’s the tone that draws your gaze. There’s an unfamiliar, inky darkness in his voice that pools in the pit of your stomach. You frown, open your mouth to ask what he means. But just like that, his electric smile is back, eyebrows arching as he nods to your bedside clock.

“You’re gonna be late.”

“Shit!” You snatch up your backpack and fling it across your shoulders. “I’m gonna kill you, Johnny!”

“Can’t kill something that isn’t alive,” he cackles as you sweep out the door.

You make it the transport just short of reprimand, though that doesn’t stop Ghost from narrowing his eyes as you duck into your seat. Gaz has already started a lively conversation with Roach, and Price is staying back this time.

You miss Johnny already. He may not be trapped in any particular part of the base, but he can’t come with you on missions or leave. The spaces where he’s absent feel colder and quieter. Everything seems just a bit… off. A song missing an instrument, a rainbow lacking one color.

You’re not sure when that started happening, when Johnny became such a vital part of how you perceive the rest of the world. When did longing for him become a chronic illness?

“Focus up!” Ghost barks in your ear.

You blink, shake your head, and take stock bewildered. Gone is the transport and the rest of your team. It’s just you now, hidden behind a generator, presumably about to infiltrate the target.

How?

When you try to recall, you have vague recollections of exiting the transport. Hiking to the compound. Splitting off with a few parting words amongst the lot of you. It feels watery at the edges, more of a vivid dream than a waking memory.

“Yessir.” It jumps instinctively from your tongue while you flex your cold fingers, trying to coax the nerves back to life.

You take a deep breath – lungs aching like you’ve held your breath too long – and continue with the mission. There’s no room for error now, or idle daydreams of noncorporeal men with wicked smiles.

The building is only three stories and you’re not meant to clear it. Just get to the server room, collect the information, and slip away with minimal enemy contact.

Maybe that’s why you don’t realize that something is wrong at first. You’re supposed to be avoiding guards, so you don’t notice the lack of them. Things do go right, sometimes, the intel can be good.

But it’s the quiet the finally prickles at your awareness. You may be more attuned to the dead, but you have a sense for the living as well. Always made you the worst to play hide and seek with. Now, you can feel that this building is vacant, deprived of any souls.

“LT, something is wrong,” you whisper, frozen mid-step.

“What is it?” he asks.

“It’s too quiet.”

To his credit, he doesn’t dismiss you immediately. “How?”

“I think the building is empty. Have you seen anyone?”

“Negative.” A pause as he considers, maybe scans the other windows for signs of occupation. “Sit tight, I’ll update Price.”

There’s barely a heartbeat before you hear distant gunfire. Too much and too soon for the plan. Roach and Gaz weren’t supposed to neutralize the target until you were collecting intel.

“Fuck,” Ghost snarls. “Get out of there!”

You’re already sprinting for the stairwell. Nearly pop your ankles leaping down, boot treads catching on the edge of steps. No one is chasing you, but your team needs help. Gaz is shouting in your ear, the channels reconnected for ease of communication. The situation is devolving quickly and violently.

“Almost there,” you report.

Your foot hits the last landing before the ground floor when the building explodes.

---

It takes three tries to get your vision focused. There’s not much to see once you do. A concrete room tinted by bare yellow halogen. There’s a drain in the floor just in front of you and old blood dried in the corners. It smells like rust, infection, and despair. Your head pounds; your entire body aches. Being tied to a metal chair doesn’t help the post-explosion soreness.

You’ve been stripped down to your fatigues, no boots. There isn’t a door in any of the three walls you can see, so it must be positioned behind you.

Confirmation comes about a minute later. Three sets of boots entering your little box. Only one of them walks into your line of sight; a mean-looking man with face tattoos and a gold tooth. He asks if you speak Russian, and though you do, you spew a string of English profanities and threats at him. The backhand you get in return says he understood you.

The questions start as soon as he switches to English. They want information; they always do. What you had been sent to collect and why. Who Roach and Gaz were sent for and why. You don’t speak a word. Even when the pain starts, and then doesn’t stop. You lose track of time, the head injury floating you on the edge of consciousness within the first thirty minutes.

Hours – days? – later, the man takes a step back, a self-satisfied smirk on his face.

“It’s alright,” he tells you, “I like taking my time, and we have plenty. Your friends think you are dead.”

That, you think through the haze, is probably true. You thought you were dead too.

“Perhaps next time we try something… else,” he muses, running a finger down your neck. “You are not as pretty now, but… prettier than you will be later, da?”

Ice forms in the pit of your stomach and climbs up your spine. It was always on the table, you know that, but facing it is something else.

Whatever expression you’re making seems to satisfy him, because he laughs heartily and finally leaves you alone.

Alone, with the promise of his next visit looming.

You squeeze your eyes shut. There’s a dripping sound nearby that you realize, vaguely, is your own blood. Maybe you’ll bleed out before he comes back. You time your breaths with it, using it as a count to get your wild and unsteady heart under control.

Reality washes over you in waves. There is no escape. Your team thinks you’re dead. Eventually, you will break and/or die. You might even become a ghost, join the collective that darkens the edges of this very room, a thing of pain and fear and rage without any coherency or singular will.

You didn’t even give Johnny a proper goodbye.

That somehow hurts the worst. Johnny, hearing second-hand that you’ll never make it back. No one to mourn with him, to offer any comfort. He’ll be alone with grief and then beyond, no one to tell his jokes or stories to.

You miss him more fiercely than you ever have. Part of you is glad he isn’t here. You know him, know he’d be too stubborn to leave you. He’d stay and watch, helpless, as you were tortured and killed. It would tear you apart to do that to him even though it wouldn’t be your own choice.

But… an awful, selfish part of you longs for him. Even just being able to see or hear him would soften the pain and fear. Would make this hell on earth almost bearable. You want to leave this world with Johnny whispering in your ear, maybe even join him when your body finally goes cold.

Given the choice, you would want him here.

You want Johnny. No, you need him. Regret ever leaving him behind, even though he couldn’t come with you. You’d do anything to change that now; anything to be with him again.

Anything?

It’s an unbidden thought, almost intrusive. Doesn’t even feel like yourself asking.

“Anything,” you whisper aloud, just to hear something other than your own despair. “Johnny…”

“You called?”

You jolt, head snapping up so fast it makes you dizzy. The world spins but he’s there, right there, crouching in front of you, arms balanced on his knees.

“Johnny?” you whisper.

Were you closer to the brink than you thought? Is this some sort of final hallucination as you slip into death?

“In the flesh.” He tilts his head, snorts. “Well, in a manner.”

“How…?” you ask, eyes already stinging.

“Told ya, you called. I’d never – hey, now, hey. No need for all that,” he soothes. He wipes the tears from your face. You can feel the warmth in his fingers. “This is a happy occasion.”

You huff in watery amusement, shaking your head. “Did you lose your glasses when you died? I wouldn’t call this celebration-worthy.”

His eyes scan over you, flicker dark. “It will be, don’t you worry.”

You blink, try to focus. Exhaustion and injury and chemical rush are making it difficult, but you know things are off. He shouldn’t be here, least of all because you called. And… something else too. Something in the way he’s holding his shoulders and the twitching around his expression. 

“Johnny, really,” you say, “why are you here?”

“You offered me anything, and I’m here to collect.”

Between one blink and the next, his eyes are black. Pitch black, from corner to corner. You suck in a breath, try to jerk back but there’s nowhere to go.

His grin is sharp enough to cut yourself on.

“I’ve been waiting for that,” he sighs.

He leans in, lips parting. His tongue rolls out, long and split at the tip. Licks a luxurious, burning trail from your chin to your temple. You make a sound borne of confused pleasure and fear, high in the back of your throat.

He shushes you, plants a slow kiss at the corner of your mouth. “My brave little lass, finally offering herself to the demon she’s been courting.”

The word bounces against the walls of your cell and burrows into your brain. Demon, demon, demon.

Johnny is…

“You tricked me,” you sob.

He cocks his head, onyx eyes soft with avarice. “Tricked you? No, angel, I’m saving you.”

His hands pet over the cruel ties around your ankles. The itch of them digging into your skin falls away. Gentle thumbs rub circles over the imprints the left behind. Hope and relief pounds hard in your chest.

“I’m only taking what you so willingly and enthusiastically offered,” he explains in hushed awe. Like you’ve given him such a wonderful gift, the greatest gift. Suppose you have.

“I’m going to take such good care of you,” he croons. His arms wrap around you, almost like a hug. His fingertips trace down your bruised arms to the cuffs biting your wrists. Those too fall away, and you find yourself reaching for him so quickly, folding into his chest, free of that wretched chair.

“There’s my girl,” he murmurs, a hand curling into blood and sweat soaked tangles.

“It… it is you, right?” you ask. “You’re my Johnny?”

“Always, angel,” he replies, “it’s always been me. I will always be yours. All you have to do is say yes.”

You tilt your head back, catch the wicked curve of fangs as he speaks. He smells like heat and woodsmoke.

“Yes to what?” you ask.

“To everything,” he answers, deep and rough. “You offered anything, and I want all of you.”

You should say no, you should throw yourself away from him.

There is not an inch of your mind or body that wants to leave the safety of his arms. This is Johnny, your Johnny, hellfire and all.

“And… in return,” you venture, “I get… you?”

“Eternally.”

Then it really doesn’t need much more thought.

“Yes. Please.”

“Good girl.”

[tenoart]

Fan trailer for the Vengeance Saga

It's coming out tonight and I'm super hyped!! Most excited for Caribdis CAUSE THATS GONNA BANG

This took a long time, I barely finished so if you could throw some notes at this I'd appreciate it

Rambles about the process under the line

Ok! So I made the music mash up in the background of this. It took forever but I did it! It's my first time ever editing audio like that and I just used capcut and a dream. All of this was made on my phone and I was honestly REALLY struggling capcut isn't very friendly tbh but I managed!

My fav part is the shot of Ithaca that shifts into the underwater, referencing Poseidon's threat to flood Ithaca. Also the scared fish. He's so fucking stupid.

Hermes is the only character that can break that black border because I think it suits him idk. Poseidon's waves can also break the wall, but that's to make them feel closer and more overwhelming, much like Hermes presence actually (very affectionately)

I have a fully rendered version of Poseidon's Trident. but it didn't fit with the rest the visuals so I un rendered it. I don't even head cannon him using a Trident tbh. The horse Poseidon takes heavy inspo from @anniflamma 's (sorry for the @ just wanna credit) design but a made his hair more water-y for fun. Nothing strikes fear quite like anni's design tho, my design isn't the same but has the same hair and eyes because I can't imagine him any other way now

[gogobootz1]

At War

Luke Castellan x Reader [fem!daughter of Apollo]

Summary: There's nothing like some friendly competition, but when planning rival parties, you and Luke are a little less than friendly.

Word count: 2k

Every year, there came a time for the retreats- a chance for children of the gods to bond and have some special fun. One big retreat seemed pointless, so camp faculty allowed two. The two retreats accidentally split the boys and girls, and naturally, they turned into an (unofficial) competition. As one of the oldest and most experienced campers- you’d been volunteering to champion a retreat for years. Traditionally, you’ve hosted a slumber party equipped with PJs, dancing, games, movies, braid trains, nail polish, and basically anything anyone could want. You also, of course, have the best food. Each year, it’s been a hit, and it’s only gotten better with time. 

The only problem is that you have tough competition. The day after the retreats, you always hear about what happened at the other one. Paintball, camping, fishing, mad romps through the wood, scary stories- barbecue. Everyone loved it. And every year, you’ve had to quietly conceal your anger and jealousy. It pains you to admit that Luke sure can throw a party (maybe even better than you can). But this year, you are more determined than ever to outdo him. 

The two of you have long been in competition, and things have only escalated. As hilarious as Mr. D found both your antics last year, Chiron was extremely unhappy about the fact the two of you had exceeded the budget by miles. He’d told you both to reign it in this year or no more retreats. When he felt that didn’t sufficiently move you, he threatened to let other people plan them. You both caved and vowed to stick to the budget this year. 

You’re always a little frantic the day of, and today is no different. To your chagrin, Luke is cool as a cucumber. It pisses you off to no end. 

“Nervous?” A smug voice voice asks from behind your back. You drop the spoon you were using to push mashed potatoes around your plate. 

You turn slowly on the bench, “Why should I be?"

“Usually, you’re pulling out your hair before the retreats,” he says skeptically, “perfectionism taking its toll.”

“Yeah? Well, my perfectionism makes my parties perfect,” you flaunt. The few sisters that can stand to be around you when you’re stressed roll their eyes. It’s clear to them this is escalating. 

“What about when Susie vomited in your bouncy house last year?” He taunts, and you glare at him. That girl should not have been jumping after four bags of Flamin’ Hot Cheetos and two Redbulls- it was hardly your fault. 

“How about when Aidan got a concussion after falling off the mechanical bull?” You snap back. 

You don’t notice Luke’s shadow until he pipes in, “Are these people okay?” 

“They signed waivers!” You say at the same time, and the new Poseidon kid takes a defensive step back. You send Luke a glare when you realize you spoke in sync. He huffs before smirking at you. 

“Good luck with your sleepover,” he mocks, “You’re gonna need it.” Before you can reply, he marches away, protégée in tow. 

“Eat shit!” You call out after him. 

“That was weak, girl,” one of your sisters says.  

“Shut up, I know,” you shake your head at her, “now come help me set up.” You drag her up by her elbow to make your sacrifices, then get to work. 

Five hours later, the main hall looks great. Your disco ball is glimmering, the mini photo booth is equipped with feather boas and pink cowboy hats, the food is all laid out, and the stage you bribed some Hephaestus kids to build looks great. 

“Perfect,” you whisper, pleased at your surroundings. 

“Fucking finally!” Your sister throws her hands up and walks away. You’ve very likely driven most of your half-siblings insane today. 

“Thanks for your help!” You call after her, and as she goes, you spot some prying eyes through the window. Percy, you think his name is, looks afraid now that you’ve caught him peering in through the window. In a few swift moves, you leave the room and block his exit from the patio. 

“Can I help you?” You ask suspiciously. 

“Just admiring your excellent disco theme,” he says, putting an ultra-sweet smile on his face. As charming as the boy is, you take your retreat very seriously and feel a deep-seated urge to protect it from potential sabotage. 

“Mhmmm,” you nod, “and you wouldn’t happen to be reporting back to anyone about what you’ve seen?” 

“Whaaaaaat?” Percy asks, awkwardly chuckling. 

Your shoulders drop, of course, Luke would stoop to employing spies. You dig into your pocket and pull out a ten-dollar bill, “I’ll give you this if you act as a double agent.” 

He eyes your money suspiciously, “Do you really think I can be bought?” 

You roll your eyes and pull out another bill, “How’s twenty?” 

“Pleasure doing business with you,” he grabs both bills from your hand and shakes it. Percy happily walks past you, shoving his new earnings into his pocket. 

You grin, “Make sure he hears all about how awesome my party is!”

“I’m on it, boss,” he calls over his shoulder. After a short walk, he’s back to the boathouse lounge where Luke has been waiting for his report. 

“Well?” The older boy asks him, jumping up from his spot on the couch. 

Percy shakes his head solemnly, “Bad news, boss.” 

“What?!” He asks, eyes wide. “Don’t tell me she went over budget. She didn't get another mariachi band, did she?” Percy shakes his head and files this new information away. With what he’s been hearing about the last few retreats, he’s almost sad to have missed them. 

“No, but it does look super cool,” he nods, and it really wasn’t a lie- he saw a chocolate fountain on that snack table. 

“Damn,” Luke’s face twitches in annoyance. 

“But your party will be great too, I’m sure,” he smiles, nodding reassuringly. 

“Of course, it will,” he says defensively, “make sure you check back in over there from time to time. I want to know how it’s progressing.” 

“Sure,” Percy nods, but his concern at the competitiveness underlying this event grows. He wonders just how bad this will get tonight. But check back in he does, and he won’t deny he enjoys himself at the sleepover. Every time he visits, you give him a new sparkly mocktail, and the Aphrodite girls give him a new feather boa. At one point, he’s wearing heart-shaped sunglasses and eating some cake. He was very impressed when M&Ms fell out of the middle as you cut it. Apparently, it’s also one of your newest sisters’ birthdays- he’s heard whisperings of some big special present for her yet to come. 

Each time Percy returns to the other retreat, he can see Luke get a little more tense. The fact that he’s exaggerating doesn’t help either. When he tells the older boy that you have an ice sculpture spitting Dr. Pepper, he thinks he sees steam pour from Luke’s ears. It’s not like people aren’t enjoying his party, but Percy can that Luke wants to one-up you and feels like he’s falling short. 

“And I’ve heard she has a special surprise in store for Sophie since it’s her birthday. Apparently, she’s the newest addition to their cabin, so she wants to do something special,” Percy nods at him, eating a taco he had brought back from your party. Luke cuts him off by grabbing the taco from his hand just as he’s about to take another bite. “Hey!” He protests when Luke puts it right in the trash. 

“When is this surprise?” He asks the twelve-year-old. 

“The Aphrodite girls told me I should be back in like twenty minutes so I wouldn’t miss it,” Percy tells him. 

“And when was that?” 

“Like twenty minutes ago,” he shrugs, and Luke just stares at him. “Ohhhhh,” he says when he realizes how long it’s been. 

“Come on,” Luke shakes his head and starts out the door, Percy in tow. They can hear the surprise before they see it, an ABBA song blasting out of the building. Only, they don’t realize who's performing it until they walk in. Along with two of your musically-inclined Apollo sisters, you’re dressed in bell bottoms and sleeves. And you look like you’re having the time of your life- until you spot them, that is. 

“Look, look, look, look,” you pull the microphone away to mutter to Tanya. Her shock is visible, but you both keep performing anyway. The crowd goes wild at the end, and Sophie runs up on stage to give you a big hug. You let Tanya take over host duties and make your way through the crowd to the party crasher. 

“That was,” Luke starts, but you are not keen to hear whatever he has to say about your outfit, or your performance, or your party. 

“What the hell are you doing here?” 

His expression instantly sours, “I wanted some Dr. Pepper from your ice sculpture, where is it?” 

“What are you talking about?” You’re highly confused until Percy gives you the cut-it-out motion from behind Luke’s back. “We put it back in the freezer,” you say, and Percy gives you the thumbs up. No matter what you think of him, Luke’s not an idiot. He turns around in time to spot Percy’s gestures. 

“Wait a second, are you two colluding?” He looks between the two of you in shock. 

“You were colluding with him first,” you shrug, crossing your arms. “You really earned that twenty dollars, by the way,” you compliment the kid, and he gives you a pleased nod. 

“Dude,” Luke turns toward Percy, betrayed. 

“She outbid you,” he shrugs. “Hey, what if you guys just went to each other’s parties?” 

You both eye the boy suspiciously, “Why would we do that?” You ask him, and Luke nods in agreement.

“Well, you’re both so desperate to know about the other’s party, so why don’t you just experience it for yourselves?” Percy asks, and when he feels you aren’t sufficiently moved by it, he tries again. “If you attend both parties, you can decide who wins.” 

“Good enough for me,” Luke wanders off into your party.

“Yeah, okay,” you head for the door. 

“Hopeless,” Percy mumbles, shaking his head. 

An hour later, you and Luke meet in the middle of your respective parties. You stare at each other for a minute before you admit in sync, “I had fun.” 

“We have to stop doing that,” you shake your head. 

“Agreed.” 

You’re both silent again for a minute. “The slip and slide was a good idea,” you say reluctantly, soap still in your hair, “low budget but lots of fun. Tubing was good too. And the campfire.” You had changed out of the disco attire and into shorts and a T-shirt over your swimsuit. 

“Did you try-“

“Chris can really grill,” you nod. After some hesitance, you finally choke out a confession, “I am very displeased to call you the winner.”

“No way,” he shakes his head. 

“What?”

“You totally won,” he shrugs, “the disco was killer.” You only now realize he changed into pajamas. 

“You actually embraced the sleepover?” 

He flicks some grass off your shoulder, “You gave my party a fair shot.” That’s true, and you nod, looking away for a second. “The chocolate fountain was a nice touch.”

“Thank you.”

“And I was trying to tell you earlier, but your performance was really cool,” he admits. 

“Yeah?” A genuine grin grows on your face at this. Most everyone in the Apollo cabin loves music, but some of your half-siblings are more keen to perform than you. Hearing this, and from him especially, means a lot. 

“Yeah,” he nods, smiling now too. “You’re the winner here.” 

“Let’s call it a draw?” You offer, and he nods. 

“What if we just worked together and planned one party next year?” He asked, and you pretend to consider it for a moment. 

“That could be cool,” you nod, “imagine what we could do with the combined budget.” 

He grins and scrunches his nose, “How about we enjoy this year’s party until then?”

“We could do that,” you nod, “where to?”

He swiftly wraps an arm over your shoulder and starts guiding you back to your party, “Let’s boogie.” You laugh, and he thinks it’s a sound he could get used to. 

-----------------------------------------

I've been awake for too long so idk if this is coherent but I had fun <3

[dreaming-of-lu]

A thought that I shared with a couple of mutuals, cause I cannot shut up about Stardew Valley right now. Imma mix mash my favs together and make y'all spiral with me.

You, the only beloved grandchild of your grandfather, was given a letter by your grandfather who was on his last leg, filled with information regarding his left behind farm and cottage in your name. He told you when the day comes that when you've grown tired of the city and yearn for a life free from the shackles of the ever growing demand of corporates and nonstop hustle bustle. The farm and cottage will be waiting until you are ready. Years passed and of course, you become tired, exactly what your grandfather told you would. With no thoughts to spare to the city you left behind and little clothes on your back. Quitting your job, you head towards Pelican Town.

The mayor was friendly, save for the carpenter that definitely made you laugh until she made a jab at your grandfather's cottage. While you could agree, since it's honestly not much, yet you'll make do with what you got for now and add things on later. However, the slight pang went through your heart at the disrespect she gave to him. Before the mayor could set off, he highly encouraged you to introduce yourself to the entire town. He then goes over with you about the shipping container, what to put in there while handing you a sack filled with parsnip seeds. He also gestures to the tools he was able to get you that were sitting on the porch, with a wordless pat of good luck, he sets off down the road back to the town.

MEET OUR BACHELORS

First: Single (Bachelor)

Meeting First was quite quick since the man was known to be busy and quite on the run to get things done before heading back to the adventurer's guild that his great uncle runs. He was short in his greetings to you and apologized swiftly that he had to be somewhere.

It may not seem like it, but this man is definitely a poet with words. Chivalrous, that had his great uncle playfully rolling his eyes at his nephew.

Yet there's something underlying mysterious about him that drew you in to him. Perhaps you should gift him things and get to know him a little more better!

Sky: Single (Bachelor)

The eldest son of the carpenter! He lives down southeast of Lon Lon Ranch. He's the absolute sweetest person you've ever met in your entire life. The bright smile on his sleepy face had you mentally cooing at him.

He carves, paints, builds little bird houses just like what his mother use to do. He definitely decorates his home each time the season changes, it's so damn adorable.

He's single due to a breakup that did not end on good terms unfortunately. While he still respect her, however, there are things that were said that ended up hurting the other.

Four: Single (Bachelor)

The grandson of the blacksmith. He was working behind the counter when your fresh face entered the shop. Obviously, a little put off since not many people tend to flock to Pelican Town. He's a bit shy yet he makes small talk just to get to know you better. Until his grandfather emerged and the look on his face had him laughing.

Yeah, he ain't laughing anymore when his grandfather told him 'that's the kid you used to play with all the time when you were younger.'

He takes the tools you got and upgrades them or process the geodes that you tend to bring in.

Time: Single (Bachelor)

The working left hand man of Lon Lon Ranch. This man scared the absolute shit out of you when he showed up on your front porch that morning. To open a door to a towering, one eye, scarred man was not on your bingo card of shit you witness while living here.

He was straight to the point of who to come to when buying animals whenever you get your barn and coop up n going.

He's someone you want to be careful around, an anger you do not want aimed towards you. That mask you saw sitting on his belt felt ominous. He's hard to get warm up to.

Twilight: Single (Bachelor)

You were just planting the parsnip seeds when you heard a bark come from behind you and yelling from someone telling to 'Come back!' A black and white dog ran up on your porch with its tail wagging a mile a minute. A cute dirty blonde haired male came jogging up with an exasperated look before realizing you were the new farmer there.

He was embarrassed yet quickly introduced himself. The adopted son of Uli and Rusl's, the older brother to Colin and his soon to be born little sister. He also works at Lon Lon Ranch.

He's hiding something.

Hyrule: Single (Bachelor)

The doctor of the town. A shy sweetheart that introduced himself to you after you came in due to an already early incident on the farm. He scolds you gently for doing something stupid and rash.

May or may not have told you one day that he wasn't getting enough patients which affected his pay heavily.

Man has unprocessed trauma.

Wild: Single (Bachelor)

He runs the saloon, all by himself, save for his friend Flora does tend to come help him to keep things smooth and sailing when it gets packed. He was friendly enough to introduce himself to you when seeing you pass him on your way to Ravio's General Store.

He def encouraged you to take a load off once and awhile to relax in his Saloon.

He doesn't remember his old life, it seems like he doesn't want to either way.

Warriors: Single (Bachelor)

The older brother to Wind and Aryll. House is on the beach and he's dramatic as hell yet he comes in later on year 2 of your life on the farm. He introduced himself first thing in the morning and he's a bit stiff about it.

He's the only soldier(?) in Pelican Town and ties to the city, he seems so tired and run down honestly.

He's doing his absolute best to raise Wind and Aryll after the funeral of their grandmother.

Legend: Single (Bachelor)

The lone wizard that "summoned" you to his tower to gift you the language of the Junimos. Just to be able to easily translate the language and to fix up the community center.

His sassy attitude def threw you off yet he's standoffish. Only asking you of things he needed from the mines.

He seems to be mourning something.

Ravio: Single???

The owner of Ravio's General Store. The sight of his bunny ear hat sat upon his head was the first thing that caught your eyes. His eagerness to greet you while showing you the package of seeds he was given, showing off the wares he gotten.

The sight of his broken heart made yours clench when one of the workers of Joja mart came in and declared loudly that things were on sale for 50% off. He's trying his best, but the income is needed.

Is finding ways to take down Joja Mart

-TO BACHELORETTES (To be added at some point-

[reidsglasscs]

SO OBSESSED WITH YOUR EX!

✸ pairing: jason grace x fem!aphrodite!reader

✸ summary: it’s not your fault that your sister’s ex boyfriend is so stuck in your head that you can think of little else but him

✸ warnings: intense makeout but nothing more

✸ a/n: ik we’re all tired of the aphrodite reader, but it’s essential to the plot 🥲 anyways, justice for my man jason, he needs more fics

You shouldn’t have been thinking about your sister’s ex boyfriend so much, and especially not like this.

Piper and Jason broke up two months ago and had both well since moved on. No hard feelings involved, just a little resolution that they were better off as friends.

It wasn’t a big deal. Really, it wasn’t.

You shouldn’t have felt so bad about how much you thought about him. He was just so captivating, so beautiful. You remembered every detail Piper had ever told you about him as well as every one you had learned on your own.

The curve of his lips and the pale scar scored through them. The flex of his muscles when he trained. Those glasses that made him look unfairly attractive.

Gods, it made you so upset that you weren’t supposed to be thinking about him like this, obsessing over the fact that you couldn’t have him.

Maybe Piper wouldn’t care. Or maybe, she’d be inflamed by the fact that you’d gotten with her ex boyfriend, friendly breakup or not. There was probably some girl code about this, right?

There definitely was, and your sisters would probably have your head if they knew you were busy breaking it.

You tried your best to stay away from Jason, you really did. If you just kept your distance, you could harbor the obsession in your own mind, keep it to yourself.

But of course, the son of Jupiter just had to notice it. Notice your distance. Notice you.

It was his fault, really, what was happening. He was the one who had approached you at the campfire, his mind set on getting an answer as to why you were trying to avoid him.

He was the one who’d followed you back to the cabins when you took off. He was the one who provoked you first.

It wasn’t your fault that everything just came spilling out. All your feelings and secrets, pretty much everything short of your guts, spewed from your mouth when you just couldn’t take the questions anymore.

This was going to hurt, you knew it would. You were prepared. And maybe, you wanted to get a little hurt.

But what you weren’t prepared for was that maybe, Jason Grace was just as obsessed with you as you were with him.

“I know I shouldn’t, but I can’t help it!” You had confessed, standing in front of the door to Cabin Ten. “You drive me absolutely crazy, Jay. And I’m probably just embarrassing myself, but you wanted an answer and this is it.”

Jason looked at your face and then down at the wrist he’d caught to stop you from going inside your cabin and that he was still holding onto. His skin was hot. His head was spinning.

He was standing really close to you. You let out a deep breath, preparing for a rejection that would be embarrassing as hell.

“Who says you shouldn’t?” He breathed out the question, a tempting little smile on his lips.

You looked at his lips. He looked at yours. You went for it.

You grabbed his forearm of the hand still holding onto you and yanked him forward. In a rush of adrenaline, you pushed your lips against his.

He responded immediately, hands gripping onto the sides of your waist as his lips mashed against yours feverishly.

You skin was alive with delight, your head buzzing with excitement.

You stumbled backwards and grabbed onto the doorknob behind you, the boy following blindly after you. You twisted it with one hand, pulling him closer to you by his arm with the other.

Nobody was inside, they were all still at the campfire and should be for another good hour.

You made your way inside somehow, hardly pulling yourself away from his captivity. On the other side of the cracked door, you looked up at him, a moment of hesitation.

“This is a bad idea, right?” You asked as you caught your breath, which mixed together with his.

“You think so?” he asked, pressing a quick kiss to your wet lips. Moonlight filtered in through the cabin windows and covered him in a beautiful glow.

“I don’t know,” you answered. Looking at him, nothing seemed like a bad idea. You knew he’d slept on the opposite side of one of these beds as Piper, you knew he’d once maybe loved her.

You knew all of that. He did too. But still, you couldn’t help it.

“Well I do. I know.” He said. The hand he had on you slid up your arm and over your shoulder, leaving a trail of goosebumps in its wake. Damn son of Jupiter and his electricity.

He rested it against your cheek, warm and tingly against your skin. He stared at you like maybe he wanted to risk getting hurt too.

“I haven’t been able to get you out of my head for weeks.” He confessed, his voice husk. He trailed his other hand up your arm until it mirrored his other, now holding your face between his hands. You thought you just might die on the spot.

“Still think this is a bad idea?” He asked, face so close to yours that you could almost taste him again.

Even if it was a bad idea, it’d be fine.

“Not at all.”

He pulled you in this time. He held one hand on the side of your neck, the other on your face, and kissed you with ferocity.

You let him push you back until your back hit the door, closing it fully with a satisfying click.

You pushed your lips against his hard. No amount of close was close enough. You felt dizzy, lightheaded with bliss.

Your hands slid down his abdomen to the hem of his shirt and then, underneath. Your fingers pressed against his skin, sending shivers up his spine.

You could feel a smile tug at his lips as they moved methodically with yours, right beside where his scar was.

You’d always thought about what it might feel like, and now, you were rhapsodic that you had found out.

He forced his lips away from yours and began trailing sloppy little kisses from the corner of your mouth and across your jaw, lower and lower until his lips slotted against your neck.

You tilted your head back to assist, give him more room to roam. When it knocked against the wood behind it, he brought his hand up behind your head, carefully putting a barrier between you and the door.

He moved further down your collar bone, teeth and tongue and lips all heavenly against your skin.

One particular nip provoked a gasp from you, and your nails dug into the flesh of his abdomen, leaving little crescent shapes that would be there in the morning to remind him.

No sooner did you hear voices. Outside, there were footsteps crunching against the grass and the sound of voices as campers returned from the campfire. The one time they end early.

“Jase,” you sighed, your hands crawling out from underneath his shirt, much to your dismay. “People are coming.”

He pulled away from you, looking at you with disheveled hair, swollen lips, and beautiful as ever. He looked at you like you were the most precious thing on earth, smiling at the fact he had been allowed to lay hands on you.

“You kicking me out?” He asked teasingly, voice low and insanely attractive so that it was such a shame he couldn’t stay.

“I dunno, do you want to get caught?”

“Hmm, maybe next time.”

You suppressed a smile as you pushed him towards the window at the back of the cabin. “Next time?”

“Yep,” he quipped, pushing open the glass pane and letting in the summer air. It was almost like he’d done it before. “None negotiable. You’re stuck with me now, sweetheart.”

You breathed out a laugh as he ducked down towards the window. “Get out.”

The doorknob to the cabin twisted, and Jason pressed a chaste kiss to your head, whispered to you a goodnight, and then he was gone.

You could hear his feet hit the grass as the door swung open and in walked Piper and Drew.

“What was that?” Piper asked as you quickly slammed window shut.

“Nothing.”

[kaijuno]

In 2006 a high school English teacher asked students to write to a famous author and ask for advice. Kurt Vonnegut was the only one to respond - and his response is magnificent:

“Dear Xavier High School, and Ms. Lockwood, and Messrs Perin, McFeely, Batten, Maurer and Congiusta:

I thank you for your friendly letters. You sure know how to cheer up a really old geezer (84) in his sunset years. I don’t make public appearances any more because I now resemble nothing so much as an iguana.

What I had to say to you, moreover, would not take long, to wit: Practice any art, music, singing, dancing, acting, drawing, painting, sculpting, poetry, fiction, essays, reportage, no matter how well or badly, not to get money and fame, but to experience becoming, to find out what’s inside you, to make your soul grow.

Seriously! I mean starting right now, do art and do it for the rest of your lives. Draw a funny or nice picture of Ms. Lockwood, and give it to her. Dance home after school, and sing in the shower and on and on. Make a face in your mashed potatoes. Pretend you’re Count Dracula.

Here’s an assignment for tonight, and I hope Ms. Lockwood will flunk you if you don’t do it: Write a six line poem, about anything, but rhymed. No fair tennis without a net. Make it as good as you possibly can. But don’t tell anybody what you’re doing. Don’t show it or recite it to anybody, not even your girlfriend or parents or whatever, or Ms. Lockwood. OK?

Tear it up into teeny-weeny pieces, and discard them into widely separated trash receptacals. You will find that you have already been gloriously rewarded for your poem. You have experienced becoming, learned a lot more about what’s inside you, and you have made your soul grow.

God bless you all!" ~Kurt Vonnegut

[letorip]

how about some Cairo Sweet hcs? :)

cairo sweet headcanons

this was definitely interesting to think about, should i ever do another cairo sweet story or even a one shot. there's always i heard your name, but it was fun to think about it in other ways

you and cairo have gone to school together for years, but things suddenly change when you have a massive glow up and “get hot” over a single summer. whereas previously she teased you and made fun of you for your somewhat lacking intellect, she finds herself struggling to hold basic eye contact with you, and staring when you’re distracted

you’re no longer someone she would call a loser, because she can’t. you’re still not the brightest, but you make up for it in sheer charm and how damn good you look.

she decides she needs you right there and then, and that she’ll be the one to claim you for herself and steal you right out from underneath other admirers’ noses

cairo hates sports, but goes to all of your practices and games and watches from the bleachers. she’ll take a book with her or make winnie go too, so that it’s less obvious, but she’ll be watching you at all times from the corner of her eye

you covered in sweat, the muscles tensing in your body as you play, the way your hair moves with the wind as you run. each time she watches you at practice, she finds herself vexed with a burning desire that wasn’t there before. it’s a bit embarrassing when you notice her and send a friendly wave, and she’ll try to appear as if she didn’t notice. Or when she’s feeling somewhat brave, she’ll wave right back but try to appear as nonchalant as possible

for what it’s worth, you’re incredibly unaware of your surroundings. you’re still struggling to understand the newfound attention you’re receiving, and someone flirting with you is the literal last thing you’d assume out of a conversation. so cairo has to put up with girls laughing too hard at your jokes or touching you a bit too much, but the entire time she does so with gritted teeth

she snaps one day after she overhears a girl’s plan to ask you to prom, and she corners you down a hallway after school, grabs you by the front of your shirt, drags you into a deserted bathroom and shoves you up against the wall with a messy mashing of her face on yours

it’s impassioned like cairo, and once it’s over and you’re staring at her with your eyes the size of saucers, she pushes herself off of you, wipes her mouth, and asks you to be officially hers

it’s no longer even just physical attraction. she finds herself smiling at the stupid jokes you make and pulling you in to kiss her just because she wants to feel you there

with her parents gone and yours being less than awesome, you practically move in with her, at lovell hill. you spend most of your nights there and you almost always sleep in the same bed

cairo is a hot or cold person to be with. sometimes she’s all over you— she wants at least one point of contact with you at any time and she looks so in love. but then there are times where she wants to be away from everyone else. it’s not anything you did, she just craves to be alone sometimes, especially when she’s writing

you humour her by going off to read or watch something downstairs, or even cooking, when you feel like it. then, when she’s done and she craves you again, she’ll wander on in, lean on the doorway in a way she knows will catch your eye, and “distract you” from what you’re doing

shes definitely little spoon. she likes to be held sometimes, in a way she’s a bit embarrassed by. When simply being alone turns into her being lonely, it’s nice for her to wake up in her giant, empty mansion with someone who actually cares. even though you sleep through it, sometimes she’ll turn around in your grasp and just watch you sleep

she’s the kind of person who will bury her real emotions when she’s upset. cairo has a sort of showmanship about her, and she likes to hide the cuts that actually bleed underneath a mask of aloofness and quiet reservation. you never really force it out of her. you let her come to you, when she’s upset

it’s never really acknowledged at all, that she lets a certain guard down, around you. it’s just honestly a given, and cairo loves finding a safe space in you, even if she resented it at first for being so unusual

you’re such a dork and an airhead that sometimes it pulls her out of serious mode

like, you’ll unironically ask her how to spell ‘banana’ for the shopping list, and she’ll just freeze in her kitchen for a moment and stare, as she realises that someone as clever as her is truly and deeply in love with an idiot who at this point may be a trophy spouse

she’s a bit upset about continuing your relationship after graduation and having to do long distance, but swears to you that no one at yale would be able to pull her away

you hang out with her at the library, even though she’s the one actually reading and studying, and you’re playing around on your phone or drawing or something. you two have mastered doing different things with each other in the same room, and it brings a comfort to you both to know that the other is close by, especially when cairo is in her clingier moods

you guys are all over each other though. once you’re together, winnie refuses to third wheel on any of your hangouts, because to be brutally honest, cairo does by and large use them as foreplay for what she’ll do later

when you guys do fuck, it’s super passionate and a bit loud, but cairo has a big ass house and no super close neighbours, so who gives a shit anyways. she’s definitely the type to mark you up all over, as she likes staking her claim and making everyone else see that she’s the one with the key to your collar.

shes definitely fiercely loyal, in a way she probably wouldn’t admit to. you’re one of the only ones to see behind her walls and to know about her parents and she nasty shit she doesn’t want to show. you know about it and you love her for it anyways, and though she would probably give a speech about how she’s “unknowable” and “above childish romance plot lines” you’d roll your eyes and shut her up with a kiss and a smile

and she’d be smiling too

writing this on my phone incredibly early in the morning and without much spellcheck, so let me know if it’s awful and i’m rambling in a half awake daze. anyhoo, thank you to the anon who requested!

[lilacmingi]

NIFFLER NABBING

My works are 14+ ONLY. If you’re under 14 DO NOT interact with me or any of my works

Pairing: Slytherin!Mingi x Hufflepuff!fem reader

Word count: 5,861

Note: Reminder that this is an imagine from my Wattpad from 2023 so there will not be extra parts or continuations

Mingi pushed his food around on his plate, eyes fixed on the peas that rolled across the saucer and into his mashed potatoes.

"Mingi?" You inquired softly, tapping your index finger on the table to gain his attention.

He blinked a few times, looking up at you with those heart-melting sparkly brown eyes of his.

"Hm?" He hummed.

"What's got you so distracted? You've barely touched your steak. It's your favorite."

"I was just thinking."

"You know you can talk to me about anything, right?"

He hummed, nodding his head.

"Then, what's weighing on your mind?"

"What if I end up as an evil wizard?" He questioned worriedly. "Most of the bad wizards are from Slytherin."

Your expression softened and settled into a gentle smile as you let out a chortle. "Mingi, you don't have anything to worry about."

"That's easy for you to say. You're in one of the nicest houses in Hogwarts."

"Your house doesn't define you, you know. For instance, you. You're so friendly and kind to everyone you meet. Slytherins aren't always mean."

He blinked a few times, his eyes shimmering as he took in every word you said.

"You know, I've come across some awfully mean Hufflepuffs."

His eyes became wide at this.

"Really?"

"Mhm." You nodded. "Some meaner than any Slytherin I've met."

"Ah." His brows raised. "That makes me feel better."

"Good." You gave a nod of finality before finishing your meal.

You waited patiently for Mingi to eat, sipping on the remainder of your drink until he was done.

"Ah." You sighed contently as the both of you left the dining hall. "Nothing like a good meal to end the day."

"Yeah." Mingi agreed.

Your gaze moved to the windows of the school seeing the evening sky outside. Classes were over for the day and this was usually when students would go to their respective dormitories and hang out in the common room or spend time in the study hall, but you wanted to do something with Mingi. You thought back to what he had said just a few minutes ago at dinner about being a Slytherin. Though your words seemed to bring some comfort and relief to him, you felt he needed something else to cheer him up.

"Hey, I know something we could do." You spoke up as an idea popped into your head.

There was one thing that was 100% guaranteed to cheer Mingi up.

"What?"

"We could stop by Hagrid's hut to see what new creatures he's taking care of."

Mingi's eyes lit up, glimmering with excitement as he nodded vigorously. "Let's go!"

With his confirmation, the two of you took off across the quad and exited the area, waking together across the school grounds. Hagrid's hut was just a small, dark lump in the distance as he lived quite a ways away from the castle.

"You remember those things we learned about in our care of magical creatures class? Ah. What are they called?" You murmured. "Oh! Mooncalves. Do you think Hagrid will be caring for any of those?"

"I hope so. The pictures in our textbooks look so cute. I'd love to see one in person." Mingi gushed.

You approached the small hut, giving a knock on the weathered wood of the front door, watching as plumes of smoke escaped the chimney meaning Hagrid was home.

The door swung open moments later revealing the jovial half-giant, but before he could even greet you, his dog, Fang, came running by his feet, jumping up to greet you and Mingi.

"Fang!" You cooed, scratching the massive dog's ears, his droopy face looking too cute.

"Hey kiddos." Hagrid greeted once Fang had calmed down. "What brings you here?"

"It's the end of the day and Mingi and I wanted to see if you had any new creatures you were taking care of." You told him, rocking back and forth on your heels in anticipation.

A small grin pulled at Hagrid's features.

"I just got a new little fella yesterday, actually. Would you like to see him?"

"Yes, please!" You and Mingi both piped up, speaking at the same time.

Hagrid gave a hearty chuckle before stepping aside. "Well, come on in, then."

The two of you entered his cozy hut, both looking around trying to find this so-called "little fella."

"You two are excited, aren't ya?"

You and Mingi nodded vigorously, earning a chuckle from him.

"Alright." He sighed out, rummaging in a corner where a basket sat. Hagrid pulled a cloth off the top of the weaved container and reached inside. "Well, here he is."

When he turned around he was cradling a small creature in his arms, which was curled in on itself slightly.

Both you and Mingi let out gasps in response.

"A niffler." Mingi squeaked.

"That it is." Hagrid nodded. "You don't have any jewelry on, do you?"

"No sir." You shook your head along with Mingi.

"Good. This guy goes crazy for that stuff."

"Yes, we know. He's so adorable though, you can't help but wanna give him shiny stuff." You cooed.

"It's very tempting, but as soon as he sees something shiny he goes mad and won't stop until he has whatever eye-catching object grabbed his attention. And catching one of these is no easy task. Newt Scamander, the author of yer textbook Fantastic Beasts and Where To Find Them, had a niffler along with many other creatures and one of these guys got out. Ended up in a jewelry store stuffing his pouch with gold and silver."

Your eyes widened along with Mingi's.

"Really?"

Hagrid nodded.

"What happened?" Mingi inquired. "Did he catch the niffler?"

"He did, but it was difficult."

Your gaze moved to the creature still tucked in Hagrid's arms. He noticed your eyes lingering on the niffler, prompting him to hold the little guy out to you.

"Would you like to hold him?"

You nodded eagerly, gingerly taking the creature, cradling him in your arms. Mingi leaned over your shoulder to watch, slowly bringing his hand up to run along the niffler's tummy. He stretched out in your arms in response to Mingi's affectionate actions making you chuckle.

"He likes that." You commented.

"You can brush him if you'd like." Hagrid spoke up.

Mingi nodded eagerly as Hagrid handed him a small oval brush. He began running the bristled object along the niffler's tummy until he rolled over in your arms, allowing Mingi to brush along his back, his eyelids slowly drooping.

"He's closing his eyes." You whispered. "I think he's about to fall asleep."

Mingi's endearing giggles reached your ears, the sound making your heart do flips. He's the biggest softie you'd ever met and everything he does makes you melt. His sweet personality was a big contrast from his deep voice and six foot tall stature. On the outside he (sometimes) looks intimidating but he's really just a big softie who loves to give hugs and gets scared easily.

The both of you moved over to sit on the couch in Hagrid's quaint and cozy hut, Mingi continuing to brush the fuzzy niffler that was slowly starting to doze off in your arms. The atmosphere was pleasant as you watched the little creature's eyes slide shut, the sound of the cracking fire filling the air.

"Can I offer you two somethin' to drink? I can put a pot of tea on." Hagrid offered.

You and Mingi shared a glance before nodding.

He got to work placing a kettle of water over the fire to boil while you continued watching the niffler in your arms. Being close with Hagrid had its perks, one being moments like these where you could spend your free time caring for any creatures that he happened to have.

Mingi's eyes glimmered with unadulterated joy, a toothy grin plastered on his face while gingerly stroking the niffler's back with the brush.

Hagrid poured you both a cup of steaming hot tea, placing them on the wooden table by the couch. When the warm beverages were served, Mingi stopped what he was doing and took a sip of the tea while you did your best to reach for your cup without waking the snoozing niffler curled up in your lap.

You thanked the kind half-giant for the beverage before giving it a taste, offering him a thumbs up in response.

You and Mingi stayed long enough to finish your tea and chat with Hagrid about how your other classes were going as well as learning more about nifflers, finding out things about them that your textbooks didn't cover.

Hagrid glanced out the small window of his hut, noting how low the sun was hanging in the sky.

"You two best be getting off. Don't want to get in trouble."

You stood up, reluctantly handing the niffler off to Hagrid.

"Is it okay if we come back to see him again?" Mingi asked, glistening eyes darting down to the creature who had started to stir.

"Of course. You're both welcome back whenever. You know that."

"Yes sir." You nodded with a grin.

The both of you waved goodbye to Hagrid while leaving his small home and started your brief journey back to the school, not realizing how dark it had gotten outside.

"I want to take him with us." You pouted, making grabby hands towards the hut as you walked away from it.

"Me too." Mingi clutched his chest. "I've never seen a real niffler before. I didn't realize they were so cute."

"They're irresistible." You gushed. "I want one as a pet."

Your Slytherin friend chuckled in response. "Do you think you could handle caring for one?"

"Maybe. Though that story Hagrid told us about Newt Scamander makes me a bit skeptical. They must be really drawn to shiny things. I'd have to keep it on a leash or something." You spoke your thoughts aloud. "Maybe I just like being around them for a little while."

"Me too." Mingi agreed. "I don't think I could take care of one. Imagine how difficult it would be to keep one from going after anything shiny it laid eyes on."

You pictured it for a moment, imagining utter chaos.

"Yeah. Being a niffler mom might not be for me." You laughed.

Once back inside the school, you and Mingi went your separate ways, waving goodbye to each other while heading off in the direction of your respective dormitories. Leaving Mingi was always difficult for you because you enjoyed his company and wanted to spend as much time around him as possible.

One thing you hated about being in separate houses was not being able to live in the same dorms. Yes, boys and girls were separated but at the very least, you both could hang out together in the common room and prolong your time together.

Mingi made his way to the Grand Staircase, descending the seemingly endless stairs that led to the dungeon where the Slytherin dormitories were located. His mind was clouded with thoughts of you, as usual. You had been friends for years yet every time he was around you his heart raced like crazy. He was so in love with you it was almost embarrassing. What's even more embarrassing is how he still hadn't confessed yet. With how long the both of you have known each other, one would assume he already confessed, but he was too afraid of rejection, or worse, making things awkward between the both of you and ruining your friendship.

If only there was a way he could ease into confessing, maybe test the waters a bit and see if you might be interested in him the way he was with you.

Mingi's hands were clammy as he held the small velvet box between his palms. He spent so long choosing this piece for you and hoped you would like it. As soon as his eyes landed on the item he knew he had to get it for you, clearly imagining how nice you would look wearing it.

He took a series of deep breaths, letting them out slowly in a futile attempt to calm his nerves as he approached the place where you stood, not noticing his presence.

"Hi." He announced himself by greeting you, hiding the box behind his back.

"Hi." You flashed that heart-melting smile of yours that he loved so much.

"You look pretty." Saying the compliment aloud made Mingi's cheeks flush. "Did you do something different to your hair?"

"I styled it a little, but I hardly did anything. How'd you notice?"

I notice everything. Is what he wanted to say, but he just shrugged.

"So, why'd you want to meet here?"

"I wanted to give you something."

Your face lit up at his statement, clearly not expecting the gesture.

"What is it?" You inquired.

Mingi revealed the velvet box he had concealed behind his back and held it out for you. He noticed the way your eyes became wide at the sight, carefully taking the box from his hands to open it up.

You gasped upon seeing the necklace displayed inside.

He stood nervously as you removed the jewelry, examining the silver chain that had a single pendant hanging at the end; your favorite stone encased in silver.

"Mingi." You gaped. "This is beautiful."

The design of the piece was simple, which you loved, silently vowing to wear it all the time.

"You like it?" He asked quietly.

"I love it. What's the occasion?"

He shrugged. "Just because."

That was a lie. Getting you the necklace was just one way he could attempt to convey just how much you meant to him without actually confessing.

"Would you like me to put it on you?" He asked with pink cheeks.

"Yes please."

You allowed him to take the necklace while you turned around and let him clasp it around your neck. Your hand reached up to gently touch the pendant hanging perfectly between your collarbones, your heart leaping in response.

Just because, huh? You thought, holding back a smile.

No one buys their best friend jewelry just because. You knew there had to be another reason behind it and you hoped your suspicions were correct.

"Thank you."

"Yeah." His eyes were cast upon the ground, unable to meet your gaze. "You're welcome."

Your fingers unconsciously fiddled with the pendant.

"It's very beautiful."

"So, you like it?"

"I love it." You smiled.

Those three words were enough to fill Mingi with a feeling of adoration, his heart beating with joy. Seeing your reaction to the necklace gave him a small glimmer of hope that maybe you did like him the way he liked you.

It was nearly impossible to stay away from the lovable niffler you and Mingi met a few days prior. As soon as you had time to slip away, the both of you took off to Hagrid's hut once again, hoping to see the magical creature that captured your hearts.

"Oh. I should take this off." You paused, reaching up to unclasp the necklace Mingi had given you. "Don't want the little guy to snatch it."

"Smart." Mingi nodded, watching as you slipped it into your pocket.

You hadn't taken the necklace off not once since Mingi had gifted it to you. The piece of jewelry meant the world to you and you had no intentions on losing it or having it taken by a magical creature, so it was best to pocket it for the duration of your visit at Hagrid's.

Mingi gave a few knocks to the large wooden door, his eyes gleaming with anticipation as it creaked open.

"Hey you two. Didn't expect you back so soon."

"We couldn't stay away." You responded.

"Yeah we wanted to see the niffler again, if you don't mind." Mingi added, looking up at the half-giant with hopeful eyes.

"'Course you can." He bellowed cheerfully, stepping aside so the both of you could enter his cozy home.

The niffler was up and skittering about the hut this time instead of being curled up in his basket. Fang, who was lying peacefully by the fireplace, sat upright when the creature skittered past his paws, startling him a bit.

"He's got what I believe muggles call zoomies." Hagrid said with a hearty chuckle.

You squeaked gleefully as the creature scurried over to you and Mingi.

"I think he remembers us." You chuckled, leaning down to pick him up.

Mingi reached over and started to lightly scratch the top of the niffler's head before going down his back, the creature letting out small chitters of approval.

"You wanna hold him?"

Mingi nodded vigorously, gently taking the niffler from your arms and cradling him in his own, gazing fondly at him. His fingers came up to give the little guy some belly scratches which he seemed to really enjoy, for a few moments anyway. He didn't stay still for long before he was squirming in the Slytherin's arms, trying his best to wiggle his way out. Mingi got the message and placed the creature on the ground allowing him to run about to his heart's content.

"He's got a lot of energy today."

"He does." Hagrid chuckled. "Excited little thing, he is."

You and Mingi watched him in amusement and adoration as he skittered about.

"Would you like to feed him?" Hagrid asked, making the both of you look up at him.

"Yes please." Mingi nodded.

Hagrid stood up from his seat and went rummaging through some of his belongings before pulling out a bucket.

"You'll have to do some work, if you don't mind gettin' yer hands dirty."

You and your friend shared a look before you put forth a question.

"What do we have to do?"

"Nifflers are herbivores so this fella only eats grass and weeds. I haven't had the chance to gather any food for him so if you're both willing to do that you can feed him."

"Of course we are." You agreed straight away, Mingi nodding in agreement.

"Great." He handed the bucket over to you, making sure the niffler didn't run out while you and Mingi stepped outside.

"Here." Your friend pointed to a cluster of grass near an old wheelbarrow.

Wrenching the blades from the ground, you tossed them into the bucket you had been given and began to slowly fill it up. The two of you made your way around Hagrid's property yanking handfuls of grass up out of the earth. Eventually, the bucket was nearly full to the top.

"Should we stop?" Mingi questioned. "He's a small creature and this is probably plenty of food."

"You're right."

Hagrid was impressed with the work you two had done, bringing you back over to the couch so you could feed the magical creature.

Mingi held some grass in his hand, the niffler crawling over to him right away to start chowing down. His little hands held onto the blades of grass while he ate, making him look oh-so-adorable.

You decided to join in and pulled a handful of grass from the bucket, holding it out for the niffler who scurried across the small space between you and Mingi on the couch to eat the grass you had presented to him.

Your palm was emptied in no time and you found yourself reaching back into the bucket for more grass.

"Oh. Did I ever tell you two about that one time I raised blast-ended skrewts?"

Mingi turned to share a look with you before you both shook your heads.

"I don't recommend it. They're very ill tempered when they get to two months."

"What are they?" Mingi inquired.

"They're a mix between a manticore and a fire crab. The look like a giant faceless scorpion mixed with a crab."

"Scary." Mingi shivered.

Your brows raised. "That sounds dangerous."

"It was. Bought 'em from an illegal breeder."

"Makes sense." You muttered in amusement.

Hagrid was always getting himself into some sort of trouble and caring for incredibly dangerous creatures that he probably shouldn't have contact with.

"Let me show you a picture." He got up and started skimming through a pile of books before pulling one out of the stack and flipping through the pages. "Ah. Here we are."

"No thanks." Mingi declined, covering his eyes.

You peered at the drawing in the book, your face scrunching in response. Mingi made the mistake of peeking through his fingers and catching a glimpse of the image.

"Ah!" He squeaked. "That's terrifying. Who would want those?"

"Me, of course!" Hagrid gave a hearty belly laugh.

After another fun-filled visit at Hagrid's hut you headed back to the castle to spend the rest of the evening.

"I'll see you at breakfast tomorrow." You waved goodbye to Mingi while parting ways.

Once you were out of sight, Mingi decided to wander the halls with no particular destination in mind. He merely felt the need to take a walk, maybe think about some things that had been weighing on his mind.

During his stroll, he noticed a familiar-looking lump sitting amongst some sculptures and set of armor lining the hallways. He had been down that hall hundreds of times throughout his years attending Hogwarts and whatever was on the floor wasn't supposed to be there. He took a few steps towards the lump until he was able to make out what it was.

The niffler.

"Oh. What are you doing here?" He asked, unsure of how the creature had followed the both of you all the way back to the school. "How did you get h-" His question was cut off when he saw something silver gleaming in the niffler's hand.

"Hey. That's Y/n's necklace!" Mingi gasped, wondering how the little guy managed to snag it without either of you noticing. "Give that to me."

The niffler took off as soon as Mingi attempted to advance towards him.

"No." The Slytherin groaned, taking off down the halls towards him.

Mingi kept his eyes on the magical creature as he skittered down the corridors, rounding corners and leaping onto pedestals housing sculptures that Mingi had to catch and keep from toppling over after the little guy jumped off them.

This is the worst. He though to himself miserably.

Despite how much he was struggling, that necklace was far too important. There's no way Mingi would let the niffler have it, at least not without a fight.

Finally, after what felt like ages, he came to a halt, sitting near one of the large arched windows.

Finally. Mingi thought, his chest heaving up and down while he attempted to catch his breath. It was a miracle he didn't get caught by any professors running down the halls or he would've been in big trouble.

Choosing to take a different approach, Mingi decided to advance towards the creature with the utmost caution, sneaking up behind him while he stared at your necklace in his tiny hands. Just before he could slip it into his pouch, Mingi grabbed a hold of it, thinking he had managed to get the precious item from the creature, until he felt a tug on the opposite end.

You reached up to mindlessly fiddle with the pendant Mingi had given you, freezing when you didn't feel it around your neck.

Before you could fully begin to panic you remembered you had put the necklace in your pocket before going to Hagrid's place. However, when you reached into your pocket, you didn't feel the necklace. You heart dropped to your feet.

"Oh no."

Slipping out of the Hufflepuff dormitory, you made your way down the halls in the direction you had come earlier, hoping to find the silver necklace lying on the stone floors of the hallway. It meant so much to you and the fact that you lost it made your heart shatter. The necklace could have slipped out of your pocket at Hagrid's or in the grass on the walk back to the school. The only possible solution was to retrace your steps.

You went down the corridors, keeping your eyes glued to the floor as you scanned the area. As time passed and your necklace didn't show up, a feeling of hopelessness slowly started taking over. At that point, you started thinking that maybe you should just tell Mingi what happened and be honest. Then, maybe the both of you could look outside on the school grounds tomorrow. Changing directions, you started making your way to the Slytherin dorms, hoping you'd run into Mingi along the way.

Your search came to an abrupt halt when you spotted the man you were looking for playing tug of war with a niffler. You could barely question how the creature had gotten all the way to the school when you spotted a familiar silver chain gleaming in the lantern lights. Your necklace.

"Mingi?"

"Y/n!" He jerked his head towards you, eyes wide like a deer in the headlights. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. He took your necklace. I don't know how."

Giving one final tug, the niffler released the jewelry and Mingi fell on his bottom, letting out a grunt when he hit the floor.

Mingi let out a huff, clutching the piece of jewelry in his hands.

You scrambled to grab the niffler before he could scurry off, holding him closely. His tiny clawed hands reached towards your necklace in Mingi's hand as he squirmed in your hold, trying to reach the jewelry.

The Slytherin pushed himself up off the ground and pocketed your necklace for temporary safe keeping.

"We need to return him to Hagrid before he causes any more trouble." You told Mingi.

He took a glance at a large clock on the wall.

"It's a couple hours until curfew. We've got time."

With that, you and Mingi set off towards Hagrid's hut for the second time that day. It was 8:00 PM and the sky was a deep blue color that was so dark it was almost black. Once outside the quad and away from the torches that provided light, Mingi pulled out his wand.

"Lumos."

The tip of his wand lit up, allowing you two to see where you were going as you hiked across the grass. The niffler had calmed down at bit after the necklace was put away, but still squirmed every so often, clearly wanting to be put down.

"Sorry buddy." You apologized. "I can't set you down until you're back home."

"I'm sorry he got a hold of your necklace."

"You have no need to apologize. It was no one's fault. I'm just trying to figure out how he got it. Maybe it fell out of my pocket or was about to fall out and he spotted it and that's what led him to follow us."

"That seems plausible." Mingi nodded.

You gave a few knocks to Hagrid's door as Mingi extinguished the light on his wand, the door creaking open just a few seconds later.

"Niffler delivery." You joked, forcing a laugh.

"I've been wondering where he wandered off to." Hagrid responded. "Been lookin' everywhere for him."

"He followed us back to the school. I think he might've seen the necklace I had in my pocket because he had it earlier."

"Oh, yes." He responded, taking the creature from you. "One glance at something shiny and these little fellas will go after it."

"He's stronger than he looks." Mingi commented. "I spent nearly five minutes playing tug of war with him over that necklace."

The half-giant chuckled at the image.

"That they are." He nodded. "Well, thank you for bringing him back."

"Of course. We couldn't have him roaming the school all night." You chuckled.

"I feel like you two need a reward or somethin'."

Before either of you could deny, he reached into a wooden bowl on his round dining table, holding out two dragon scales.

"Here ya go. Genuine dragon scales."

Both your's and Mingi's brows raised as you each took a shiny scale.

"Woah." You gaped. "Thank you."

"It's the least I can do to show my appreciation."

"So cool." Mingi murmured in awe.

"You two best be heading back so you don't miss curfew."

Thanking Hagrid again for the incredibly special gift, you parted ways, waving goodbye as you started back towards the castle. Holding your wands out, you and Mingi illuminated the ends of them, using the light to guide you back to the school.

"We've had an eventful evening, haven't we? You more so than me. After all, you're the one who chased the niffler and pried the necklace away from him."

"I wasn't kidding when I said he's stronger than he looks."

"I believe you." You chuckled. "It seemed like he had quite the grip on that necklace."

"You have no idea."

You passed by the study hall, catching sight of a few students hitting the books before curfew. The halls were mostly empty, not many people were roaming around at this hour as most students preferred to hang out in the common room of their dormitories.

"Thank you for getting the necklace back." You spoke up, wondering how long he had been chasing the niffler before he was able to catch him and successfully pry the chain from him.

"Oh. That reminds me." Mingi paused, pulling the precious piece of jewelry out of his pocket. "Here you go."

A soft smile graced your lips at the sight of it and you moved your hair to the side, turning around.

"Could you put it on me?"

Mingi stepped forward and clasped the necklace just as he did when he had first gifted it to you. You thanked him, turning around to gaze up at him while your fingers unconsciously toyed with the pendant.

The light from the flickering torches on the wall danced across Mingi's sharp features and illuminated his cheekbones. For a moment, all you could do was stare, entranced by his hypnotizing features.

"Can I tell you something?" He inquired softly, cutting through the silence hanging in the air.

You hummed, prompting him to continue.

"There's a reason I gave you that necklace."

As much as you wanted to smile because you were right, you held back and stayed silent, waiting for him to go on.

"The truth is, I like you, Y/n." Mingi bravely stepped forward, feeling nervous as ever. "I was too afraid to confess and to be honest, I didn't even know what I would say. So I decided to buy you something nice in hopes that the message would get across without me having to confess."

This time you couldn't hold back your smile.

"I knew there had to be a reason." You grinned. "I just didn't want to get my hopes up about any possibilities."

"Possibilities of what?" Mingi pressed.

"That you like me."

In the blink of an eye, Mingi grabbed your face with both his hands and closed the gap between your faces, pressing his lips against yours.

Fireworks exploded in your stomach upon contact, your eyelids fluttering closed in response. You'd always imagined what it would feel like to kiss Mingi and feel his pretty, plush lips against yours. Now, you can happily say it feels like a dream come true—because it is.

Your palms slid up his chest, slowly finding their way to his lengthy hair, tangling your fingers in the strands. Mingi sighed softly at the feeling, his head tilting for better access while he slotted your mouths closer together.

His cheeks burned and were more than likely sporting a deep pink color, but he didn't care. He was finally kissing you and that's all that mattered to him. He had imagined this so many times and none of the fake scenarios came close to the real thing.

He stepped forward, backing you against the wall while his arms caged you in, his lips moving at a more rapid pace. Your closed eyelids fluttered at the feeling of his plush lips encasing your bottom one, sending you into a foggy daze. It was as if he was letting himself go completely, putting in all of the emotions he had been holding back into the kiss: desperation, passion, longing.

You were vaguely concerned that a teacher would catch you two, the worry being pushed to the back of your mind as soon as it surfaced.

Your fingers pulled away from his hair and relocated to his green and white tie, using it to tug him closer to you. Mingi let out a small noise at your bold action, his heart rate speeding up in response. He was already very close to you, his body pressed flush against yours, but it wasn't enough. His hands, which were previously anchored on the wall on either side of you, had moved to your waist, squeezing it tightly as if to ground himself. Your fingers curled around the collar of his school robes, tightening your grip every time he kneaded your hips. It was all so overwhelming, the way he kissed you with such longing paired with the feeling of his hands sent you into a daze.

Just when you thought you couldn't take it anymore, Mingi parted ways and rested his forehead against yours, his eyes still closed as he tried to process what had just happened. Both of you huffed and panted, trying to catch your breaths that had been taken by the passionate make-out session.

Your hands came up to cup Mingi's cheeks, holding his face between your palms, soaking up the moment. When he finally pulled back and opened his eyes he felt like he had just been punched in the gut. You stared up at him with glossy half-lidded eyes and puffy lips; your appearance reflecting just how the kiss had affected you.

"You're so pretty." He blurted, too caught up in the moment to consider the words coming from his mouth.

You gave him a drunken smile, letting out a giggle or two, your thumb running across his swollen lips which had became puffier due to the kiss.

"So are you."

He held back a grin, turning his gaze to the stone floor. Though his mind was still reeling from the events that occurred just moments ago, he was still able to ask one question that was begging to be asked.

"Will you be my girlfriend?"

"Yes, of course I will." You grinned from ear to ear, pulling him into a hug.

Mingi felt like a weight had been lifted off his shoulders as he rested his head on top of yours, his arms giving you a light squeeze to make sure this wasn't all a dream.

"I don't want to leave." You admitted, your voice muffled from being buried in his chest.

"Me either." You could hear the pout in his voice. "We don't want to miss curfew though."

The both of you reluctantly parted ways, saying your goodbyes.

"See you tomorrow at breakfast." You told Mingi.

He nodded with a small smile. "See you tomorrow... girlfriend."

Hongjoong ��� Seonghwa ⟡ Yunho ⟡ Yeosang ⟡ San ⟡ Wooyoung ⟡ Jongho

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[enigmatist17]

Okay okay okay I haven't seen any Mirage/Hound in the Mecha Pilot/Universe AU by @keferon (if there is I apologize I haven't seen every post) so here :)

Also I'm sorta kinda mashing together my version of this mecha AU, as there really isn't a sort of "canon" version of things (I have written Ratchet both as human and bot, so there ya go) ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

---

Henry was a simple guy who had lived a pretty (in his view, anyway) simple life. He had served in the military, got out when he had done his time, and had become a wildlife biologist for what was supposed to be the rest of his life.

Then they came, and his simple life was gone.

Xenobiology quickly became what he was known for, he and so many others using what they had learned to try and help the fight against the invaders go smoothly. He supposed it could have been worse; the mecha program was a far more brutal face than his dime-a-dozen lab, a lot of pilots dying more from their machinery than the aliens themselves. Jazz, the first pilot who seemed receptive to his friendly attempts to befriend those in that group, became one of the few Henry could call as a friend as they strived to protect Earth.

He even accepted the nickname Hound, the name a second skin Henry wasn't even aware he had been missing.

Then Jazz went missing, Hound there for his grieving brother as a mecha was merely put in Jazz's place, marking the first to leave. Ratchet retired (sort of, they knew he'd be dragged back eventually) shortly after, having grown tired of the constant death and overall burnout, promising that Hound could come to visit whenever he desired. The little guy First Aid stopped showing up in common areas after his whole Vortex incident, and as much as Hound was concerned for his friend, oddly enough, he did not question the haunted mecha that seemed to lurk when Hound visited his hangar.

Still, he persevered in helping to stop the threat to Earth, even when he started having breakdowns at the nonstop death. He couldn't jump fast enough when the MECHA program eventually offered him an off-site lab with housing, the buildings far enough away from their biggest main facility to be out of sight, but close enough where reinforcements could be sent out to protect their investment scientist in case of an attack. It helped to be surrounded by nature again, the smell of oil, metal, and all sorts of blood replaced with fresh air and as many plants as he could cram into the space. Sure, he was still dissecting alien biology and working on finding more weaknesses and potential uses, but it helped to be away from the worst of it all.

Maybe that break stops Hound from having a full-blown freakout when Jazz suddenly returns through some weird sort of portal, flanked by other mecha's that turn out to be alien sentient robots.

"Hound!" The pilot jumps out of his mecha and onto the hand of one of the robots, placed down on the grassy surface as Hound stares in awe. "It is so good to see you man!"

"Jazz?!" Hound drops the gun he (regrettably) used for protection as the pilot sprints over, the two falling back and onto the grass at the force of Jazz's impact, hugging the smaller man just as tight as the other was hugging him. "Holy shit you're still alive!"

"You know me, I'm too stubborn to die." Jazz's voice is bordering on hysteria, but Hound says nothing, freezing when one of the other mecha leans over them, its head tilted as glowing eyes slightly narrow. "U-Uh..."

"Prowler, ya gotta relax yea?" Hound stared as Jazz pulled back, craning his neck up with a grin at the massive alien, using the clawed finger(????) offered to get to his feet, one hand held out to Hound. "This is my buddy Hound I told you about, he's good me-people."

"It can understand you?" Hound took Jazz's hand and got up onto his feet, the other aliens crowding closer in curiosity as Jazz stepped on the offered palm, completely unphased as he was lifted into the air and set on a metallic shoulder.

"He, and they can! Hound, I'd like ya to meet my main mech Prowl to start with, he's the reason I made it home." The one, Prowl, stared down with a blank look, the two staring at each other for a beat before the mech nods his head, his doors (wings? They look like wings, which is really interesting) twitching when Jazz bonked his helmet against his cheek in a way that had the biologist doing a double-take. "What?"

"...did you get a boyfriend? Botfriend? Oh no that sounds so stupid." The former soldier slapped his hand over his face as Jazz started to cackle, the alien's own laughter that rippled through the crowd sounding as alien as it did almost human. "Forget I said that."

"Oh, never." The pilot only looked amused as he looked down at his friend, the air seeming to ease as the aliens loosened their stances, save Prowl. "To be fair, I tried that out too, and it does sound so stupid."

"Who are your other friends?" Hound rolled his eyes, eyeing the group with uncertainty. "Um, you all do understand me, right?"

"Of course, Jazz taught us your Earthen language." The second to shortest bot spoke up, their blue and white coloring catching Hound's interest. "I am Mirage, it is a pleasure to meet a friend of Jazz's."

"It's nice to meet you, Mirage."

---

Mirage did not understand this planet Earth, more specifically, why his fellow Cybertronians seemed to adjust to the planet with ease.

It was covered in organic matter, no matter where you looked.

While his attitude toward organics changed when Jazz was revealed, the person who practically forced the former noble into becoming a trusted friend, it did not mean he enjoyed dealing with organic nature. It usually meant they were in a place the Quintessons wanted, and he could see why Jazz and his people created shells to fight in; his planet was filled with more resources than he could have imagined. The latent feeling of energy (and for some reason energon, something to be investigated later) practically hovered in the air, and the Quintessons could feast for many years if they succeeded in getting a foothold.

Something these small organics had stopped, keeping a foothold despite being so fragile.

"You're brooding again."

"You know that I still do not know what that means."

"Sorry, it just means you're...lost in your thoughts, and judging by the frown on your face..plates? You seem upset is what I'm saying."

"...I am confused." Mirage had been idling outside of a market while waiting for Hound to do his shopping, his new alt mode gathering more than a few optics by the time the human had returned. Little protoforms had touched his side paneling before Hound had returned, and he could still feel their touch as he began to drive back to Hound's home. Once they had returned, Mirage had transformed to look at the small smudges on his arm plating, perched on one of the large rocks that littered the property until Hound had sought him out with a bucket in one hand. "I do not understand how my fellow Cybertronians are not...distressed by this constant organic matter."

"Well, I'm not really sure how to answer that." The organic looked up at Mirage with a servo on his hip, a friendly smile on his face. "Would you like me to help get those smudges off? Figure it's the least I can do."

"Very well." Hound worked in relative silence after Mirage transformed, the small cloth and polisher cream doing its job of removing any trace of a smudge. The human was humming as he worked, occasionally speaking to local wildlife that appeared not to understand his language that wandered nearby, a little whistle and movement of his hand sending them scattering. "Why do you speak to the wildlife?"

"Um...good question!" Hound chuckled as he carefully polished one of Mirage's door handles, making sure the inner part was just as clean as the outer. "Helps me pass the time, makes me feel like I'm not alone I guess. Don't you talk to uh, cyberbirds or something?"

"....Cyberbird?" Hound nearly started at the amused rumble Mirage's engine made, his face plate taking on a red hue Prowl had explained was a "blush". "Not as such, no. The closest animal I have seen you interact with that was similar to Cybertron was a turbo fox, albeit a lot less elegant."

"Aw, we might not be all fancy metal an' tech, but every animal can be elegant if you give them enough credit." Hound knelt down to get the last of the smudges on one of the wheel rims, using some bottled water to rinse off some sort of sticky residue. "I'd love to see what your wildlife looks like, your planet too."

"Perhaps one day, Cybertron is still very much a warzone that had not recovered enough from our own personal War."

"Mhm, we've got places like that here too." Hound sighed, dabbing some more polish on the smooth metal. "Part of why I left the military, I only want to help the planet, not destroy it. What's the point of fighting, only to have rubble and the dead to greet you when you're done?"

"That is a question I have asked myself for many vorns. When we were Autobot and Decepticon, I had been called a sympathizer merely because I wanted to try and end things peacefully, not with weapons and near extinction of our race." His spark pulsed painfully at the deaths that occurred before Earth was most likely even a planet, still a painful memory despite the time that passed.

"I'm sorry to hear that, you don't seem like that sort to me. Nothin' wrong with trying to use words instead of steel." Satisfied, Hound got up and onto his feet with a slight stretch, eyeing Mirage's frame with a smile. "There we go, as organic-free as I could make ya."

"It was very kind of you to do so." Mirage transformed in one fluid move, eyeing his plating with his first genuine smile. "I have not had such a thing done to me out of kindness in a very long time."

"Well, consider it me helping out a friend." Something squeezes his heart at the confused look that crosses Mirage's face for a moment, before he carefully kneels down and extends a finger (digit?).

"It is not a "handshake", but it is the best I can do." Mirage doesn't twitch when he feels the warm hands that wrap around his digit, Hound doing a mock shake, his EMF field cautiously reaching out to drape itself around the human.

"You're doing great, Mirage."

They both lie awake that night, wondering what was coming next.

---

He doesn't know what happened, only that one moment, a Quintesson was about to use its staff to stab Hound right in the chest, and the next, he's ripping its head from its body.

Safe/Confusion/Fear/Resolve

Where is Hound? Where is Mirage? Where are they?

A blast rockets past, and they react, HoundMirage lifting an alien gun to fire, a clean headshot taking out the Quintesson before them.

Something isn't right, he's not a pilotmecha, he's not a soldierspy

No, they're both and yet not, sparkheart beating as one as they fight, driving back the attacking force that had tried to take out the city that Ratchet was based out of these days, its denizens weirdly unsurprised about the new "mecha's". Jazz joins them in the fight until the last one is dead, his mecha holding its handsservos up as he regards them, HoundMirage itching for any more threats as optics flick around the now empty battlefield.

"Fellas? You alright?"

"YesNo, confusedscared?" A processor is halted by unfamiliar emotions, and a servohand reaches for their chestchassis, the outer armor opening to -

Mirage cycles his optics, shimmering out of sight when he feels something close, too close to the small thing trying to intake in his servos. Nothing can harm them, nothing would harm them, and it takes his processor a few klicks to realize the voices calling out to him were friendly. Jazz was in front of him with his servos still up, just spouting anything and everything while Bumblebee watched from just out of sight, making sure nothing was actually going to attack them despite looking in awe.

"Jazz?" His vocalizer sounds off, and he resets it as Jazz gives him a thumbs up. "What happened?"

"No idea, but you and Hound pretty much went berserker and took out most of the Quintessons. Henry, you alright there man?"

"Ask me when everything stops spinning." Hound wasn't sure what the hell was going on, but being in his bot's hands were really doing wonders, so he stayed where he was. "I don't normally talk like this, but what the fuck was that?! I thought you weren't mechas!"

"They're not." The pilot shrugged, Mirage remerging into view when Prowl clicked in warning. "C'mon, we've got to go before the lookie-loos start asking questions we can't answer."

"You're too late on that fact, son." Everyone looks down to see a lone human approaching them with an annoyed look on his face, pointing a wrench at Jazz's mecha. "Also when the hell were you goin' to tell me you made it back to Earth? Cybertron isn't exactly a hop and skip away."

"....what?" All of the alien mechs stared at the grumpy-looking human as Jazz cackled, Hound only amused as he watched Ratchet almost immediately get into an argument with a stunned Prowl.

A weird way to end what was shaping up to be a very weird day.

[wynnyfryd]

Trailer park Steve AU part 11

part 1 | part 10 | ao3

cw: period-typical homophobic language, explicit sexual content (if you are under 18 then kindly GO ON NYOW GIT come back when you grow your first gray pube)

It feels crazy, after all that, to just get up and face the day. Feels like last Fall all over again: he’s concussed in the back of class getting bagel crumbs on a worksheet with his face still pulverized. There’s a gross pang in his chest as he goes about his morning routine, his heart all squishy and bruised like some dickhead smashed a plate over it, but whatever, he guesses. Public education and minimum wage wait for no one.

Robin grills him the whole car ride: “Oh, my god, is he okay?? Is he alive? Is your mom okay? What the hell, Steve?” and he lets her ramble with wide, worried eyes; doesn’t even get to the part about Eddie. When they pull up to the school she gets out of the car and comes around to his side, knocks on his window and leans in when he rolls it down to give him a ridiculously long hug.

"Robinnn," he grumbles; his face is mashed against her boobs. "People are gonna think we're dating."

She bends to hug him tighter still, her bony ass hanging out his window where the whole school can see. "I'd date you in a second."

"You've literally said that you wouldn't."

"Platonically, I would!!"

She gives him one last squeeze, and he watches her waddle off, trumpet case awkwardly smacking her calves.

And then he just... goes to work. He goes to stand around a nearly empty store and pretend like he even has any work to do, restocks the already full displays of candy and buffs the countertops until they shine. Three hours in and he's run out of ways to look busy and Keith is “doing admin stuff” in the back, so he gives his mom a call. Makes sure she's okay; did she eat anything yet; any updates on Ernie?

She’s fine, she's not hungry, he's alive but that's all they know for now, her tone distantly polite like Steve's nothing more than a friendly cold caller.

He shoves his fingers in his eyes ’til he sees stars when they hang up.

He calls the Henderson house next, leaves a message to apologize for skipping out early, promises that he'll be there next Wednesday and he can bring dessert this time. There’s a lunch rush after that, but the day still drags like a bad hangover, a dull throbbing in his bones, and when he finally gets home he collapses onto his bed and passes out on top of the covers with his dumb work vest still on.

—

Eddie's acting weird.

Steve sees him again on Friday, spots him and his uncle having a smoke out on the porch and wanders over to say hello. Wayne seems happy enough to chat; gives him all the news on Ernie — "Bastard's unkillable," he says, almost impressed. He’s stable now, should be home any day.

Eddie, on the other hand, spends the entire interaction behaving like a skittish cat, eyes darting to and from Steve, leg jiggling as he quietly puffs his cig.

Steve half expects him to slink off and come back to drop a dead mouse at his feet.

He feels his brows knit together, agitation creeping in. It's not like he thought they'd be best friends after a single night of ceasefire or anything — as if they'd start braiding each other's hair and trading their deepest, darkest secrets or whatever queer shit — but like…

He thought they might be cool now. At least a little bit.

And Eddie's not being rude to him, exactly, but that's somehow even worse. The polite disinterest. The subtle shift to the left. Back and away.

“Okay, well, uh...” Steve glances at Eddie, who's looking anywhere but him. Fucking fascinated by a loose thread on his ripped jeans, apparently, plucking at it with anxious fingers. “See ya around, I guess?”

Wayne says not be a stranger, and Eddie gives him a quick nod. “See ya.”

Steve grinds his teeth about it for the rest of the afternoon, then decides, like, screw this. It's a Friday night; he's not sitting around sulking all evening because Eddie Munson hurt his feelings.

He calls up a girl — some pretty blonde chick he remembers from the cheer squad — and sets up a date for later that night. Takes her to the drive-in, buys her a vanilla shake. The date's fine; it's good; it's fine. She's pretty enough, and she offers to suck him off when the main feature starts.

It’s not a good blowjob. Arguably one of the worst ones Steve’s had, and he’s had quite a few. She keeps gagging herself with these gross squelching sounds, barely getting even half of his dick in her tiny mouth and not bothering to use her hands to make up the difference. Just leaves them resting on Steve’s thighs while she makes fake whimpering moans like she’s sooo turned on by this; fucking as if; and somewhere in the middle of her repetitive, sloppy bobbing his mind starts to wander off. To the trailer, to the lot fees, the fucking pharmacy bills. Their ever-dwindling savings and what percentage of them he just wasted on this lackluster movie night; surely they’re gonna run out any day now; tick tock, tick tock.

"Um," the girl squeaks as she pulls off with a gross slurp. Steve looks down at his lap, sees he's gone soft. "Am I, like, doing something wrong, or...?"

Her voice is high and quiet, innocent and sweet, and Steve feels like an asshole. He squeezes himself at the base, gives a few quick strokes to get himself up again. "No, you're perfect, honey," he lies. "Stick out your tongue for me?"

She bats her eyes demurely and rolls over onto her side, gives him some kind of sexy pout before opening her mouth so he can jerk off over her. Steve works his wrist; tries not to be rude and look away, but her colors are all wrong. Strawberry hair. Blue irises. He squeezes his eyes shut, moves his hand faster and thinks of dark brown. Dark hair, dark lashes, dark eyes like the deep woods. Endless. Sort of mesmerizing. Nancy? "Oh, fuck," he gasps as he comes.

The girl squeals and jerks away from him, hands flying to her face. "Oh, my god! Oh, my god! You got it in my nose!"

"Sorry,” Steve grunts, shuddering through an aftershock. There’s cum on his hand, on his pants; all over this poor girl’s face. He thinks he got some in her eyelashes. "Shit, sorry, let me, uh—"

He leans over and rifles through the glove box, trying to find a napkin for her. No dice. Best he can do is an old McDonald's wrapper with a grease stain on the side. "Here, does— does this work?"

“Ew!”

“Sorry, I mean it’s that or my shirt, but then I’d have to drive you home shirtless, so-”

“Ugh,” she gives him a bitchy look. Tries to, anyway. One eye is glued shut. “Just give me that, please.”

His limp, spitty cock is still hanging from his pants when he passes her the wrapper. Flaccid and sad, like a white flag of surrender, and a bubble of hysterical laughter slips out. A choked burst of it, a pufferfished pfffft as it explodes past his lips. He’s not sure if it's the orgasm or the ridiculousness of the situation or if he's just plain lost his mind, but the girl glares at him, which...

There's still a glob of jizz on her cheek, so it doesn’t help matters much.

"I think you should take me home."

"Y-yep. Sorry. Yeah."

“Like now.”

Steve tucks himself into his jeans.

—

part 12

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