#he/they/it thing in a sweater handling nasty bones. what more could you want

[cackling-beast]

gender

[stardustdiaries]

Until we’re together once again

I'll be home for Christmas

DINCEMBER DAY 9 @dindjarindiaries ​

Pairing: Din Djarin x F!Reader

Summary: After Din gets injured, he pleads for you to stay and forget about the bounty hunt you had agreed to as Life Day is just around the corner.

Warning(s): Angst?? Fluff??  Very minor mention of injury aaaand I think that’s all, kids!

Word count: 3,105

°•°•°•°•°•°•°

“Riduur, you don't-"

You whipped around to look at Din, your heart shattering at his pleading eyes. The air was thick around you, almost as if it were trying to suffocate you. Steeling your resolve, you swing your bag over your shoulder as you holster your blaster by your side.

“Cyar’ika,” Din breathed, taking a timid step closer to you. His head tilted to the side slightly, causing for the bundle of curls that sat on top of his head to bounce softly. “please don’t go.”

You swallowed hard at the lump in your throat. Maker, your chest was so tight. Not finding a way to will yourself into speaking, you took a minute to take in his appearance.

His curls were a mess, though not in the unkempt, dirty way. It was cute. He fancied a red sweater you had gotten him as a gift during one of your supply runs.

You smiled at that.

The first signs of stubble decorated the surface of his skin and all you wanted to do was cup his face with your hands and stay there for the rest of time. His right arm sat in the clutches of the sling that hung from the opposite shoulder, rendered useless during his most recent hunt.

You dropped your head slightly, giving it a shake before willing yourself to look up at his eyes.

Stars, what you would give to take away all the concern and sadness that washed over his dark eyes.

Din took another step, now mere inches away from you. He gently pressed his forehead against yours, eyes fluttering close to keep you from seeing the tears that threatened to spill from his eyes. “Stay, cyar’ika, please. The bounty can wait.” His words cracked as he spoke, tugging at your heart violently.

Now it was your turn to keep the stinging tears at bay. Shakily, you sucked in a sharp breath. “We need the credits, Din.”  

“Cyar’ika, what if something-"

“Din,” you cut him off as your hands reached out for that of his good arm. Tenderly, your fingers began tracing over every silver and faded scar that painted the canvas that was his skin. “everything will be okay.”

He remained silent, forehead still pressed against yours in a Keldabe kiss as he took a deep breath. Greedily, he basked in the warmth of your skin, his heart constricting at the knowledge that he’ll have to live without it for Maker knows how many days.

Din didn’t want you to go after the quarry. He hated the idea of it, not because he didn’t think that you could handle it- heck, you were one of the only bounty hunters who made him fight for his quarries. You two were the best of the best, always stealing targets from each other until you teamed up to protect the Child.

But he knew about the emotional toll this kind of work took on you. The price hanging over this quarry's head was nerve-wracking. You wouldn’t be the only hunter going after them, and for the amount of credits this job could earn you, other hunters would be out for blood. And Din wouldn’t be there with you if anything were to happen.

But that wasn’t the only thing haunting Din. Life Day was coming up and this would be your first time celebrating together ever since you both exchanged vows. He didn’t know what he would do if you weren’t to come home in time to celebrate- if you were able to make it home at all.

“Come back home, cyar’ika.” Din choked, the words heavy as they struggled to tumble out of his mouth. He finally dared to open his eyes and try to tattoo your image onto his memory. “Come back to me.”

You could feel his gaze on you, but you couldn’t let him see the tears that were still trying to push through your eyelids. So you squeezed your eyes as tightly as you could and clenched your jaw. You were still holding onto his hand like a lifeline, afraid to let go.

Slowly, you brought his hand up to your lips, letting them graze over his skin before planting a kiss onto his hand. Then another, and another.

You opened your eyes, letting them fall over his distraught features. With a clumsy, deep kiss to his lips, you pulled away as you tugged at the bag that hung from your shoulder.

“I’ll be back for Life Day, riduur.”

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

You’ve been gone for two weeks, stuck roaming a planet not too far from your own. The quarry was close by, you could feel it in your bones. You had to get this right. Day and night, you’ve been traveling all over the planet, the tracking fob that dangled from your belt being the only guide you had on this hunt.

You were now back at the Crest, putting your exhausted muscles to rest as you slumped into the pilot seat. The holotransceiver Din had gifted you twirled around your fingers, as if the action was your one and only method of relaxation. Messages between you and Din have been scarce and too spaced out from one another.

Life Day was only days away now; you didn’t know if you could uphold the promise you had whispered into Din's ears. You knew Din still had hope, that he’d been sending prayers to the Maker for you to come home. You could hear it the quiet cracks the resonated in his voice, how he struggled to stabilize his trembling words.

If you truly were as close to the quarry as you thought, you would need to go off grid. Radio silence. You had to make this last message count before you vanished for Maker knows how long.

With a heavy sigh, you placed the holotransceiver on the Crest's control panel in front of you. You rubbed the exhaustion off your eyes, straightened your posture and curled your lips into the best smile you could muster at the moment. There was no need to give him any reason to worry about you.

Steeling your resolve, you clicked the holotransceiver on and began to record your message.

“Hey, riduur,” you smiled, fiddling with the tips of your gloves. “I apologize for taking so long to respond to your messages, things have been…challenging.” You looked up, hoping that when he opened your message, your eyes would meet his. “I-I think I might be close to finishing the job,” you chuckled softly, already feeling tears welling in your eyes. “Riduur, it’ll get dangerous soon- I know I’m not the only one who’s close to finding out where the target is hiding. After this, I need to cut contact- for my safety and your own,” You paused.

Blinking away the tears before they dared to spill, you ran your hands over your face tiredly. Your heart was heavy, your throat tight and face hot.

“I…I don’t know if I’ll make it back in time, love.” You bit your lip, hard enough to draw a slip of blood. “I’m so sorry, riduur; I promise I’ll do everything in my power to come back to you and the Child.” The ghost of a smile danced over your lips and your figure relaxed against the pilot seat as you looked onto the holotransceiver. “I love you Din and miss you so much. Give the Child my love.”

You gave your famous two-fingered salute, tilting your head to the side. “Until we’re together once again,” you spoke your goodbye, charging it with as much love and longing possible before clicking off the holotransceiver.

You have to get this right.

 ---------------------------------

“Dank farrik!” You hissed through gritted teeth, clutching your side tightly where you received a nasty blaster shot.

That’s gonna scar nicely.

You bit down on your bottom lip, choking back a whimper as you disinfected your injured skin. Slowly, you swiped the disinfectant over your side, watching how the cloth you used turned crimson as it made contact with the wound.

You'd captured the quarry- it was nicely tucked away in the Crest’s backlog after being frozen in carbonite. The job hadn’t been easy, you received more hits than you would like to admit, but after all is said and all is done, you got the job done.  You’d have to report to Karga later, but that could wait; you had something more important to worry about today.

It’s Life Day.

The holotrasceiver had beeped a day or two ago, but you hadn’t dared to open the message. You longed to do it, to let Din’s voice slip into your ears, to capture every detail of his face and attach it to your memory. But you didn’t. Being away for so long did a nasty number on you; you couldn’t risk breaking down when you still had a job to do. You would’ve packed up your things and piloted the Crest back home in an instant if you dared open his message.

But the job was done; you were going home.

Cursing out as you realized that you’d forgotten to restock on bacta, you messily placed a strip of gauze over your bleeding wound before taping it down, praying to the Maker that it’ll hold until you got home. You tucked away the medpac into a corner in your compartment, huffing a puff of air as you limped to the ladder that led you to the cockpit. Once in your place on the pilot seat, you pulled out the holotransceiver and placed it in its usual place on the control center. Clicking the device on, you allowed yourself to finally listen to your riduur’s voice. You melted onto the pilot seat, your muscles exhausted after the day’s workload and lifted your eyes as your riduur’s image began to shine in front of you.

Din’s recording began to play and you smiled at the sight of him with the Child snuggled up by the crook of the elbow of his good arm. He looked down at his son before lifting his eyes, your chest tightening as they found yours. “Hi, cyar’ika,” he said softly, looking down at the Child to make sure he was asleep. “We’ve missed you so much- I have missed you so much, riduur.” As he spoke, he flashed you a smile, but you caught onto how tired and sad it was.

Your heart sank.

“The kid and I have been trying to keep busy around here- he’s been great helping out with small chores. We’ve also been getting the house ready for…” Hi voice faltered, almost as if he was struggling to push the words up his throat. Squeezing his eyes shut, his chest rose as he took in a deep breath. “…for Life Day.”

Catching your bottom lip between your teeth, you looked away, fully knowing he couldn’t see the tears that dangled from your lashes before racing down your cheeks.

Being away from each other was something you both struggled with  ever since Mando began taking less and less jobs. You both longed to be together, safe and warm in each other’s embrace as the world faded away. The cracks in Din's voice were a testament of the hope he still clung to- hope that the Maker would answer his prayers and bring you home.

“Come back to us, cyar’ika,”

Din’s voice snapped you out of your thoughts, only now making you realize that you had shed more fiery tears than you had originally thought. His dark eyes glossed over much like your own, though his tense shoulders gave away how he was forcing back the tears. His chest trembled with his breaths as he tried to compose himself. “Come back to me, please. I don’t know how many more nights without you I can handle, riduur. I need you here- with us.”

Shaking his head softly, he managed to curl the corners of his lips into a small, hopeful smile. “I love you, cyar’ika.” He then mimicked your previous parting gesture, tilting his head to the side in acknowledgement as he gave a sloppy two-fingered salute.

“Until we’re together once again,”

At that, his image vanished, leaving the weight of silence crush your ribcage. You heaved a breath, wiping away the stale tracks that were  left behind by your hot tears, hands flying over the control center as if nothing else in the world mattered.

Because nothing else did.

You punched in the coordinates of your next stop and got the ship airborne as if it were second nature. Once the Crest blew past the planet’s atmosphere and everything was in order, you pushed the ship into hyperspace and felt the weight of the galaxy drop onto your shoulders as the stars around you blurred into streaks of silver and blue.

You clicked on the holotransceiver and spoke the words you’ve been dreaming about ever since you left.

“I’m coming home, riduur,” you breathed. “I’ll be home for Life Day.”

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

When the holotransceiver beeped, Din almost set the kitchen on fire.

He had settled the Child in the livingroom, letting him play with the toys he had unwrapped and opened early in the morning before striding to the kitchen where he was now trying to make what he realized was one of your favorite recipes. Keyword ‘trying' as there is only so much he can do with one arm. After a few burns to his fingertips, quiet curses and one-too-many failed attempts at getting the right ingredients, the sound of the holotransceiver beeping from the dining room made his eyes double in size as his heart slammed itself against his ribcage.

In that instant, Din dropped everything with a loud clatter and raced to the dining room to recover the device that held your voice within it. He saw the Child perk up at this as a small coo left his mouth, tilting his head in questioning. Din joined his son in the living room and clicked the device on, watching the Child smile as your face came up before them.

Your message was short, but those words you breathed to life and- oh, Maker- your smile were enough to make Din’s heart beat at light speed. Din gasped softly, a shockwave of joy washing over his features almost in disbelief as he replayed your message over and over again, each time letting your words sink in a little deeper.

Din picked up the Child, bouncing him up and down in his arm, getting a mixture of coos and giggles to erupt from the little one. Sending a silent ‘thank you' to the Maker, Din rushed to get everything set- food, decorations, music; it all had to be perfect for your arrival. He spent hours upon hours making sure everything was as it should be, but his smile wouldn’t falter or slip even when he kept getting the recipe wrong.

You were finally coming home.

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

The sun had set faster than expected- a few hours ago, actually. And there was still no sign of you or the Crest.

Din had begun to pace around the living room, certain that he would end up losing it if he didn’t let up. He kept checking the time, slightly convincing himself that maybe he could will time to go a bit faster and bring you home. Running his hand through his curls for the umpteenth time in only a matter of minutes, he willed himself to take in a deep breath.

“Cyar’ika, where are you?” he muttered under his breath, concern choking his words as they tumbled out into the air. “I…I should’ve gone with her.” Din said with a sigh, clenching and unclenching his fist by his side as a way to release the stress that fell like a weight on his chest. Almost instantly, he shook his head vigorously, trying to get every worst-case scenario to evaporate just as quickly as they had materialized. “No, she’s fine,” he whispered to himself, squeezing his eyes shut. “she’s okay…just running late.” His words wavered slightly on that last beat and he couldn’t help but mentally kick himself for it.

Unbeknownst to him, you were already standing by the doorway, a look of amusement dancing over your exhaustion as you heard his anxious rants. Silently, you dropped your bag and stepped through the doorway, taking in a greedy breath of relief as the reality of being home flooded your senses. With a lazy smile, you continued to listen to your riduur's rants until you decided to speak up.

“Din, is everything okay? You asked innocently, biting back a laugh at how he froze in place and his eyes seemed to impossibly double in size.

Din’s head snapped in your direction and he stared at you for a few seconds, as if trying to convince himself that he wasn’t crazy. Slowly, his eyes softened and were flooded with every bit of love and joy that seemed to crash over him. With a breath of disbelief, he took a step closer to you, his smile growing as he took in the sight of you.

Maker, he couldn’t tell if his heart was racing or if it had stopped the moment his eyes fell on you.

“Cyar’ika, you’re home!” he laughed, cupping your face with his hand as he lost himself in your eyes for what felt like the first time in forever.

You giggled, looking up at him adoringly through heavy eyelids. Humming in delight as your forehead pressed against his, you let yourself melt at his touch, feeling every bit of your body ignite at his warmth. “Oh, how I’ve missed you,” you choked softly, taking his hand in your own and pressing your lips against his scarred skin.

Din smiled adoringly at the gesture, tightening his grip on your hand slightly as he declared it was his turn to shower you with kisses. Slowly, he planted a kiss on your forehead, moving down to your cheeks and finally your lips. The kiss started out slowly, but neither one of you hesitated on melting into each other as the kiss began to deepen itself. Your hands reached up to the back of his head, pulling him towards you, closing whatever gap stood between your figures. His hand travelled down to your waist, keeping you steady  until you finally broke away from each other, absolutely breathless and just as in love with each other as the first time you exchanged whispers of three little words.

After smiling into one last peck on his lips. Your foreheads were once again pressed together as you both caught the breaths your lungs begged for.

“Happy Life Day, riduur.”

Happy Life Day, cyar’ika.”

[butwhyduh]

Can I request sth more fluffy? Middle of the night cuddle with my boi Tim and fem!reader (*^*). You wrote some good spice now can I ask for some sugar?

Christmas party

Tim drake x reader

Christmas series 1

It was a cold still night in Gotham. One where the moon was visible and the air was crisp. You snuggled under your blankets on your with your heaters on high but you had a bone chill that wouldn’t disappear easily. You shivered and wished Tim was there.

He had patrol. The city never slept and this was a prime night for crime. It was a perfect night. Or a Gotham perfect night anyways. He had given you a quick kiss and literally jumped off your fire escape. Your scream was caught in your throat as you watched him rappel away. It never got easier to watch. It didn’t help you sleep either.

Your eyes finally started to get tired and your comfort watch-a-hundred-times Netflix show wasn’t holding your attention anymore and you fell asleep. The street below was surprisingly quiet even.

You woke to the sounds of something or someone outside your window. You couldn’t see out because of the closed curtains. You quickly looked at your clock. It was only 2 AM. He was usually out until 4. You reached for the bat you kept by the bed and quietly stood up as the window opened. Your heart beat quickly and you clenched the bat. Tim had been very certain that you should swing on sight of an intruder. Use the element of surprise.

Legs slid into your apartment and you swung. Hard. A soft “oof” sounded and they grabbed your bat.

“Sunshine, it’s me! It’s Tim,” he whispered loudly. You relaxed. “Good hit though.” Groan.

“Sorry Timmy! Are you okay?” You asked turning on a lamp. He stood in his suit, his cowl still on. He pulled it off.

“I’m fine. I’m just glad you protected yourself,” Tim said pulling off his suit. He put it in the hamper and came up to you. He gave you a little kiss. You moved to hold his hips and he hissed and pulled away. You pulled back.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. I just kinda got shot today,” Tim answered lightly and you gasped. “It didn’t go through the suit though. I’m fine. Just a bruise. Not even a bone bruise. I swear.”

You looked at him in the lamp light and there was a blue bruise forming on his hip. “Timmy, what happened?”

“I didn’t duck,” he joked and you blanched. “Just some drug dealers. Red Hood was there and he took care of it. That’s why I’ve got the night off. Not the bruise. Sorta the bruise,” Tim grimaced as he climbed in bed.

“Red Hood then shot out their kneecaps and said that he’d shoot any criminals on sight if they were out tonight. Said it was ‘fucking Christmas so go the fuck home.’ So B thought it was best to have the night off of Red Robin,” Tim said laying flat. Your eyebrows rose at that one. He tried to hide a tiny groan as he adjusted to be more comfortable. You laid beside him careful not to touch him.

“Does this hurt,” you asked, gently leaning against his arm. You’d rather full on cuddle but you didn’t want to hurt him. Tim moved and pulled you close to him from the waist up.

“I’m okay. Don’t worry about me. It’s late. Let’s get some sleep,” he said rubbing his thumb on your back. You rested your head on his chest.

“Yeah, but I’m definitely worried about you because you got shot. Please, be careful,” you pleaded. He had a hard time looking you in the eyes. Guilt over making you worrying was a bitch.

“Of course, always. I’ll at least have patrol off for a few days. Give me a kiss,” Tim said hopefully. You leaned over and kissed him delicately like he was breakable. He was so strong but still only a human.

“If anything happens to you, I’ll beat Batman up myself.”

“That’s the nicest and most ridiculous thing you’ve ever said. We’ll hang out tomorrow, before the Christmas party, okay Sunshine?” Tim said with his eyes already closed. He was severely sleep deprived and wasn’t going to be up much longer.

“Sure, Tim,” you whispered as his breathing evened in sleep.

——————————————

All morning, you both laid in bed and watched tv. Tim tried to get a little handsy but his hip was in more pain than he had anticipated and one touch by your hand had him almost jumping out of the bed in pain. It really was black and blue. But this was a rare moment to just cuddle with him and you weren’t missing it for the world. Tim was on the phone most of the afternoon.

The weather had changed from nice to sleet but the time you were getting ready for the party. You had changed and were finishing your look. Tim was throwing on a sweater and watch you had gotten him for his birthday. He pushed his hair back before it flopped right back in place.

“You’re beautiful,” he said suddenly like he was finally watching you. He meant it as a compliment but it came out almost like ‘who knew?’ You gave him an eyebrow. “You know what I mean. You look great tonight,” Tim said with some pink around his cheeks.

“Thanks,” you said giving him a kiss on the cheek. He groaned and wiped the lipstick off his pale skin. You smirked. He walked over to the coat rake with just the slightest stiffness to his walk to show how bruises up he was.

“Are you ready? Don’t forget your coat. It’s nasty out there. I think we might have to stay over at the manor tonight,” Tim said grimacing. “It’s okay right now but if it gets worse..”

“You sure?” You asked. You didn’t want to miss it but if the weather was awful you didn’t want to chance an accident.

“Yeah we’ll be fine. I can drive through just about any weather,” Tim said with a wink. You grabbed your coat and left.

Nude hose was a bad idea. It was frigid outside. You should have worn the fleece lined thick tights you had considered as you were shivering in Tim nice red sport coupe.

Wayne manor couldn’t come in view fast enough and you happily ran up the stairs and in the house from the parking garage. Tim chuckled and then grimaced when he tried to catch up.

“Careful on your bruise,” you reminded him. He nodded. The house was much warmer than outside. Alfred warmly invited you into the study. Bruce, and Duke were already hanging out. They were talking about movies and Tim jumped in. He didn’t get much free time but when he did, he was a huge nerd.

Damian and his friend? Girlfriend? Walked in and started playing chess.

Dinner was served in the dinning room. Alfred always made amazing food. A traditional mushroom soup. Apparently Bruce’s mother had it as a Christmas tradition and, while the boys barely touched theirs, Bruce happily enjoyed it.

You saw Jason and his date before he cleared his throat from your seat at the table. Alfred was so happy and quickly ushered them to their seat at the table. Tim held your hand as often as he could as the meal continued. His long fingers stroked the inside of your palm in a soothing way. Whether it was for you or him, you couldn’t tell.

Down at the other end of the table, Dick said something loudly and it took you a second to realize what was going on. He was proposing. Tim had a little smile as Dick stuttered his way through his words. That was new.

She looked at the box in shock. She wasn’t going to say no was she?!? You couldn’t handle the stress and you gripped Tim’s hand tightly. Dick literally pleaded for an answer and that broke the spell she seemed to be under and she said yes.

Kisses. Applause. Champagne.

Tim lightly squeezed your hand that you had relaxed and he smiled at you. You both were young enough that a proposal wasn’t an awkward thing to watch. You were seen as just too young. Dick and his new fiancé retired for the night and the party was moved to the parlor.

You sat on a stool by the billiards table. Tim and Jason immediately began playing a game while you talked to his girlfriend and Cass.

“So if I win,” Jason said a full hour later. By this time, Damian’s girlfriend had fallen asleep on his shoulder and Bruce had announced the storm too bad to travel. “I get the penthouse.”

“Sure Jay. That’s Bruce’s. But I’m willing to gamble it,” Tim said throwing his hands up at the ridiculousness.

“I accept terms,” Bruce said. Both boys looked at him surprised. “Whoever wins gets the penthouse.”

Jason narrowed his eyes at Bruce and Tim gave you a wtf look but neither questioned the decision. Jason played seriously. He was a natural. His rough upbringing had him playing pool in many hazy bars as a kid as well as the occasional trip to a bar on the weekend he enjoyed regularly. Tim just didn’t have time to play games. Plus he had a nasty bruise on his hip. Jason won the game easily.

“So the penthouse is mine?” Jason asked. Bruce nodded and shrugged. Tim softly coughed in his hand.

“If you’ll live in it,” Bruce said. Damian was carefully carrying his girlfriend upstairs.

“Deal.”

“Deal.”

“I guess, deal?” Tim said confused. “Though you should owe me. You’re the one that got me shot.”

“What?! You got him shot?” You asked loudly. Tim blanched.

“Not my fault,” Jason defended.

“Literally your fault,” Tim countered.

“What did you do?” Jason’s girlfriend asked looking at him suspiciously. He offered her a sheepish smile.

“I might have said ‘what are you gonna do, shoot us?’ I meant me. Not Tim! He also has a bulletproof suit,” Jason said.

“That’s not in the report,” Bruce said slowly and both boys flinched.

“Good night everybody. Merry Christmas,” Jason said pulling his date from the room.

“We’ll talk tomorrow,” Bruce called down the hall. Everyone else took it as a cue that the party was over.

You moved upstairs to Tim’s old bedroom. A My Chemical Romance poster and Dragon Ball Z poster hung on the back of his door as the only personal items. You smirked at him when you saw it.

“I forgot that was there,” Tim groaned reaching for it. His pale skin was flush with embarrassment. You grabbed his arm.

“Leave it. It’s cute. It’s got personality,” you said with a laugh. He rolled his eyes.

“Yeah. A complete nerd,” he said looking away.

“And you think you’ve changed since? You wear Spider-Man boxers under your suit sometimes,” you whispered in his ear.

“How do you know that?”

“When I pull them off of you..” you winked.

“Speaking of, having a hot girlfriend isn’t exactly nerdy,” Tim said getting a little handsy.

“Are you trying to get laid in your childhood bedroom?” You asked fake scandalized. He pulled you closer.

“Maybe.”

“Very nerdy to try and get in my pants right now with anime posters on the wall, Timbers,” you said pulling him towards the bed and into a kiss before he could protest.

[vanillapie-80]

The Road To Recovery Chapter 1: Sticks and Stones Shall Break My Bones

What if Steve found out about Jim’s secret life about magic and trolls differently, and became a part of his team? But in the worst way possible.

AO3

Steve repeatedly tapped both ends of the pencil he was holding onto the desk, his boredom consuming him more and more as the class continued. The words coming out of the teacher’s mouth would quickly be a distant memory from the bully. Steve glanced at the classroom, some students were as bored as him, while others had their complete focus on the subject. 

One student, in particular, caught his interest; Jim Lake Jr. was staring with an intense distaste at the paper at his desk, presumably where he was taking notes. The bully saw how Lake's eyes fluttered and how his head slowly moved back and forth. Steve chuckled and watched in amusement as Lake dozed off and had his face slam headfirst onto the desk. 

The whole classroom turned their attention to Lake, including the teacher, and laughed as he quickly woke and sat up straight. 

Mrs. Janet, clearly not happy, spoke. “Mr. Lake, do you know how many times you’ve disrupted my class over the current school year?” 

Lake turned red from embarrassment, avoiding eye contact from anyone in the room. “Uhh, I don’t kno-”

“Too many, I’ve tried my best to excuse it, but frankly I can no longer do that. After school, you shall serve two hours of detention.” 

Steve was surprised that Lake didn’t do anything to defend himself, he simply sighed and rubbed his face in frustration. As if the student sitting across the classroom didn’t have any fight in him. It was only when the class was over that Steve realized that he’d have to be stuck with Lake for two hours since he was given detention as well.

Throughout the school period, Steve silently dreaded the thought of going to detention, but it wasn't as if he could skip it without getting into more trouble than he already was in. 

When the school was over, the bully made his way to Mr. Uhl’s class. There were a few students already inside, but Lake was yet to appear. Steve mindlessly took a seat and began doing some homework that he was behind. It only took a few minutes for Lake to show up. He just quickly walked around the classroom and sat right behind Steve. 

“Great.” He thought bitterly. 

Out of all the desks Lake could’ve chosen, he chose that one. It’s as if he wanted to annoy Steve. The bully now had an anxious feeling that Lake was being nosey and glancing at his work. This caused Steve to sometimes turn around behind him in a way that didn’t seem suspicious, but he only saw Lake just minding his own business and reading a book. At some point, Lake stopped what he was doing and ended up falling asleep. 

As time passed by, Steve could hear the student behind him mumbling in his sleep, but they were too quiet and incoherent to understand. Those two hours felt it was longer than he needed to be, and you can imagine the sense of relief Steve had when it was time for Lake to leave. 

But Lake never left his seat. When Senior Uhl left the classroom to take a phone call, Steve turned behind him just to see his classmate still asleep. Lake’s shoulders were tense and his hands gripped the fabric of his sweater, but Steve didn’t pay attention to those details. He simply groaned in annoyance. If Lake was going to take a nap in detention, at the very least he could've set an alarm on his phone for safe measures. 

Steve leaned onto his chair and shook Lake by the arm, maybe a little too rough. “Hey, wake up Lake.” 

What happened next was just too fast to process for Steve. The sleeping student jolted awake, and instinctively grabbed and pulled Steve by the arm, making him topple over his chair. The bully felt a sharp pain in his hand and Lake twisted it. The students watched in surprise and curiosity as they quickly tried to take their cameras out but by the time they did, Jim let go of Steve’s hand. 

“Aurgghh!” The bully rubbed his presumed injured hand and shouted, “What the hell Lake?!”, angrily.  

The smaller student looked at Steve like a deer in headlights. Lake had his hand covering his mouth as he nervously glanced at the students staring at the two of them while whispering to each other. The sound of Senior Uhl slamming the door open made everyone in the room jump.

“I heard a noise. What happened?” He asked while looking at both Lake and Steve for answers.

“Fell off my chair and hurt my hand. Lake tried to help me get up but grabbed my bad hand by accident and I shouted.” Steve responded, much to the surprise of Lake and the students. However, the bully rationalized this “act of kindness” as something he could use to his advantage. If Lake was giving him trouble, Steve could threaten him by telling the teachers what really happened today, simple as that. 

“Very well.” Senior Uhl muttered. “Mr. Lake, your two hours are up, you are free to leave.”

Lake quickly said “thank you”, grabbed his bag, and ran out of the classroom. Steve glanced down at his hand and flexed it, only to feel a sharp pain once again. He’d have to go to the doctor after this.

In a small town like Arcadia, rumors and gossip spread fast like wildfire. Which is why Jim wasn’t surprised at the many stares and glances he got from students. The trollhunter sighed as he made his way to his locker, where he was greeted by Toby and Claire.

“So, I heard you tried to break Steve’s hand.” His best friend remarked, mostly as a joke. But Jim only banged his head onto his locker’s door, sighing once again. “C’mon now Jimbo, we both know you wouldn’t hurt anyone here.” 

“But it is a rumor that’s going around about that,” Claire interjected. “Maybe I can ask Mary and Darci for help, or-”

“No.” Toby and Claire looked at Jim in shock. “It might make things worse like I’m trying to make myself look better or something.” 

Claire gave Toby a look and gestured at Jim. “What did you do exactly?” He asked while moving in front of Jim. 

“During detention, I thought it’d be fine if I just took a quick nap while I was there. Then Steve woke me up for some reason and, ugh, I don’t know, I just freaked out.” The trollhunter explained, tightening his grip on his bag’s strap.

“Well, you did just come back from the Darklands, so maybe your mind is still on alert for any danger,” Claire suggested.

“Either way, it’s not like Steve didn’t have that coming,” Toby added.

“Toby!” 

“What? I’m just saying Claire, he has always been a jerk, so karma has to come knocking on his door a few times.” Toby explained. “And besides, this isn’t exactly the first time Jim had a physical scuffle with Steve.”

“But that was different.” The trollhunter thought to himself. Jim punched Steve in self-defense. What he did yesterday was uncalled for, Steve didn’t do anything that justified what Jim did. 

The school bell suddenly rang, and Jim made his way to his next class alongside Toby. Meanwhile, Claire left for a different class. Coincidently, Steve was in her class, and Claire thought that this could be an opportunity. 

“Hi Steve.” She greeted, sitting next to him.

“What are you doing?” Steve asked, obviously confused as to why Claire decided to sit beside him. “Is this about yesterday with Lake?” 

Claire shrugged in response. “Kind of. How’s your hand?”

The bully glanced at it for a moment. “It’s not broken that’s for sure, just sprained.” He said, “Nothing I can’t handle.”

Claire hummed in response before asking, “You know Jim feels bad about it, right?” 

Steve scoffed at the notion. “He should be, Lake could’ve easily broken my hand.” Claire grimaced at that response. “But that doesn’t matter now, does it? Jim “Goodie Two Shoes” Lake walks away scot-free.” He muttered sarcastically, making a small jazz hand gesture as well. 

“But you could’ve told the truth and Jim would have gotten in trouble, but you didn’t. Why?” 

Steve stayed silent for a moment before he spat out, “How about you leave me alone and mind your own business?”, with a harsh tone before ignoring Claire for the rest of the class. 

The student sitting next to him stared in disbelief, wanting to add her own two-sense to Steve’s remark, but she held back. He was right to a certain degree. This situation was strictly between Jim and Steve, so there was no reason for her to bud in. 

A few days later…

It was lunchtime, and the trollhunter used this period as a way to get some time for himself. Yes, he would always enjoy Toby and Claire’s company no matter what, but something Jim just needed some time for himself. So he sat on the school porch alone while he ate his lunch, enjoying the cool breeze and the sunlight hitting his face. Just when the trollhunter finished his meal when the school bell rang. Quickly, Jim raced through the halls to make it to his next class which was history. 

During the middle of Coach Lawrence’s lectures, Jim felt a sharp pain on the right side of his abdomen. When he looked down, the trollhunter saw that his blue sweater was slowly being tainted by crimson red. Jim cursed to himself. A little while ago, Jim had gotten into a nasty fight with a rogue troll. In the end, he was victorious as always, but the trollhunter suffered some major injuries. Jim thought he did a good job treating them but apparently not. 

So he raised his hand  and asked, “Coach Lawrence, can I go to the bathroom?” 

The P.E. teacher shrugged. “Alright, you can go Lake. Just make it quick.” 

The trollhunter knew that this wasn’t going to be “quick”, but Coach Lawrence was one of the more forgiving and kind teachers in the school, so he felt like there was nothing to worry about in terms of suspicion. 

He raced towards the boy’s gym locker room, it was always mostly empty and was very easy to hide if someone walked inside. Jim sat on one of the benches and took out a small first aid kit from his bag. The trollhunter unzipped his sweater and lifted his shirt, revealing the bloody gauze that was wrapped around Jim’s abdomen. As he unwrapped it, it showed a deep laceration that seeped quite a lot of blood out. The trollhunter groaned as he saw that the stitches he had made for the wound had become undone. Jim tossed the used gauze aside and opened the first aid kit. He couldn’t redo the stitches right now, as it would take too long to finish, so the trollhunter just put fresh new gauze on his abdomen. Jim was too focused to notice Steve entering the locker room, or even hear him enter.

Once the bully noticed Jim, he looked at his classmate with a disturbed expression. “Lake?” 

Jim froze at the sound of Steve’s voice, and he felt a sense of dread shivering through his body.

The trollhunter tried to cover his injury but Steve had become curious. “Jeez! what happened? Did someone stab you with a knife or something?” He asked, lifted Jim’s arm to get a good look at the trollhunter’s stomach.

Jim immediately pushed Steve aside and shouted “None of your business! And what are you doing here!” 

“I just finished soccer practice, my team plays on the field every Friday. And you’re not exactly trying to be discreet.” The bully explained, crossing his arms as he begrudgingly maintains his distance with Jim. “Are you a member of a cult? Oh shit! You’re not gonna kill me now that I know your secret are you?”

“What?! No, I’m- Aurggh!” The trollhunter bent down as pain from his injuries spiked. “I’m not in a cult.” He muttered.

“Then what’s up with you Lake?! First, you attack me at detention, and now this.” Steve asked as he gestured to the person in front of him.

“I didn’t mean to attack you. I was just having a bad dream.”

“Must’ve been one hell of a nightmare. Well if you aren’t in a cult, then what is it?” As Steve continued to question Jim, he could see the panic look in the trollhunter’s eyes, but tried to keep a calm attitude. 

“Like I said it’s none of your business,” Jim remarked.

Steve tightened his hand into a fist and approached Jim and got really close to him, the two of them staring intensely at each other. “Either you tell or do I have to beat out of you.”

Both of them knew that Jim wasn’t capable of fighting back well, and the trollhunter at this point couldn’t take another beating, even if it was from Steve. He looked away from the bully in defeat, with Steve smirking in response.

“Well? What is it?”

Jim tried thinking about a lie that would satisfy Steve. Being mugged wouldn’t make much sense, and any other excuse he thought of just sounded ridiculous. Until he thought of one that seemed pretty much perfect. 

“I...I’m getting paid to fight others in the street.” He said.

Steve looked at Jim suspiciously before asking, “Like a fight club?” 

The trollhunter shrugged without a care. “I guess.” 

There was a silent pause before the bully said, “Why the hell are you in a fight club then?”

Jim pinched the bridge of his nose and groaned. “I’m just a little tight on money alright? Nothing deep about my reasoning. Now, if you can do me favor and keep watch? I have to finish this.”

“God, you’re so weird Lake,” Steve commented, but the trollhunter didn’t bother to respond back with his own remark.

As Jim continued to treat his injuries, Steve glanced at the locker room’s hallways to see if anyone would be coming in their direction. Occasionally, the bully looked back at the trollhunter and would see the many scars that were on Jim’s body. It felt so out of place for Steve to see that. Jim was always one who wouldn’t hurt a fly and avoided a fight until now he supposed.

Once Jim was done, he put his shirt and sweater back on, while also putting his first aid kit back in his bag. The trollhunter got up and looked at Steve, wondering if he should thank him.

“Hey, I really am sorry about your hand. The last thing I want to do is hurt someone that doesn’t deserve it.” He muttered, eyes glued to the ground. “And please keep this,” Jim gestured to himself, “between you and me. If anyone found out, we’ll both be in serious trouble.” 

What the troll hunter said startled Steve a bit, but why should he be scared? He’s Steve Palchuck, he wasn’t scared of anything. The bully simply scoffed and remarked, “Fine,I’ll keep your stupid secret between us.” before leaving.

Jim hoped Steve kept his word, he couldn’t afford to lie to anyone else. It was starting to get exhausting. 

A week later…

It was a Saturday, and Jim managed to get himself into detention again. This time it wasn’t his fault, or alone either. Last night a couple of gnomes went joyriding in Senior Uhl’s truck because why not? The police came before the trollhunter and his friends could flee the scene. Of course, they had to take the blame, but instead of getting arrested, Senior Uhl decided that they should serve detention the next day. 

Jim stared outside of the car window and his mother was scolding him and Toby for “stealing” their teacher’s car. “You know, girls don’t always fall for the bad boys, Jim. Sometimes, they appreciate chivalry.” She said. 

The trollhunter held back the urge to laugh, and simply responded with, “Uh, thanks for the dating advice Mom, and this won’t happen again, right Tobes?”

“Oh yeah, I rather not add anything else to our criminal records.” Toby added, poking his head out to the backseat and Barbara chuckled in response. 

Jim and Toby gave the motherly doctor their goodbyes before leaving the car. The two walked on towards the school’s entrance as Claire waited for them there, while two other students, Shannon and Eli, followed behind. 

“Are you ready to get this over with?” Claire said as she joined with the duo. 

“I don’t know Claire, maybe this could be a good thing. We’re a school so the possibility of us being in danger is almost nonexistent. Think of it as a fun little vacation.” The trollhunter suggested, then laughed at the thought of it. 

 Then the trio heard a small commotion coming from the distance. They turned to the source and saw Steve getting out of Coach Lawrence’s car. The two seemed to be talking but they were too far for the trio to hear. 

“Huh, is that Coach dropping off Steve?” Claire asked, turning her back on the other student.

“Great. Vacation canceled.” Toby remarked, rolling his eyes. 

“Hey now, all you have to do is ignore him and you’ll be fine Tobes.” Jim reassured with a nervous smile.

Claire and Toby looked at the troll hunter curiously. “Since when did you become an optimist?” His best friend wondered.

“When detention became a regular occurrence for me apparently. And besides, we’ve dealt with Steve being in our class before. What makes this any different?”

When the students went to the classroom, Senior Uhl confiscated their phones, much to Mary’s dismay. Toby then decided to take out a Diablo Maximus Breakfast Burrito he bought earlier, despite Jim’s silent gestures to not do that. As the trollhunter suspected, Senior Uhl confiscated that too the moment he saw it, but Toby didn’t seem too bothered by it, which seemed weird to Jim, since it was Toby’s favorite burrito, but decided to ignore it.

After a few minutes, Claire quietly spoke up to both of the boys. “You know Jim, you might be right about us deserving a break, but I can’t help but feel guilty knowing that Gunmar might be out there.” 

Oh right. The trollhunter cringed at that reminder. “Listen, Blinky and Aaarrrgghh are looking into it. Without proof that Gunmar escaped out of the Darklands, there’s no reason for Trollmarket to panic.” He whispered. 

Then Jim saw Senior Uhl decided to eat Toby’s burrito, muttering that “It can’t be that spicy.” 

The trollhunter anxiously looked at his friend and asked, “Tobes, shouldn’t you tell Senior Uhl that it’s a bad idea to eat your burrito?” He never ate it himself, but Jim saw the effect it had on someone, which…… wasn’t pleasant to see or hear. 

“I would, but you know how Senior Uhl listens to his student. Which is not at all.” Toby said with a shrug.

Jim looked at his friend in disbelief. He wasn’t wrong, but Toby was acting way too calm for his comfort. As if he was planning for this to happen.

“Wait a minute.” 

What happened next was what Jim and Toby expected. Senior Uhl rushed to the restroom, and the two knew that he wasn’t coming back for a good while. 

Everyone stayed in their seat for a few minutes, with the trollhunter eyeing his friend suspiciously while Toby smiled back in response. Steve was the first one to leave his desk. 

“Where are you going?” Claire asked.

“I’m going to see where Senior Uhl went. Is that a problem?

“Not at all.” She said back.

Jim left his desk as well and stopped Steve before he could open the door. “Don’t bother. It’s not something you want to hear, trust me.” 

The bully rolled his eyes and opened the door anyway. The trollhunter cringed at the sounds he could now hear. When Steve turned to look at him, his face filled with regret, Jim gave him an “I told you so” look.

“It’s like a broken yogurt machine.” Claire commented, now out of her desk as she stuck head out of the door.

“Ew, it sounds like lasagna getting shot out of a T-shirt cannon.” Mary added while making a face.

“Not helping.” Jim thought as he tried to banish the mental images those comments gave him.

“That burrito had three ghost peppers in it. Too much spice for his delicate Austrian taste.” Toby explained, ignoring the glare Jim was giving him.

“He could be there all day.” Claire stated.

“That indeed.” Toby went back inside while the other students glanced at him in confusion, except for Jim.

“You knew that would happen Tobes, didn’t you?”

“I cannot confirm or deny that statement. But we could use this to our advantage.” The chubby teen suggested with a mischievous smile.

“How?” Shannon asked.

“Well I’d rather keep that a surprise, so just stay here for a while until Mary and I can get our getaway driver.” Jim was surprised to hear that Mary was in on this. 

The supposed queen bee of the group lit up in excitement and walked outside of the classroom with Toby. As the other students waited, Jim sat on top of one of the desks, watching his legs lazily swinging up and down. His mind drifting to an endless void of muted thoughts.

“I didn’t know Domzalski was a troublemaker.” Jim looked up and saw Steve standing right in front of him, his arms crossed.

“There’s a lot you don’t know about him.” The trollhunter said.

The bully stayed silent for a moment before muttering, “How’s the, you know.” He tried to discreetly point towards the trollhunter’s injury he saw a week ago.

“It still hurts, but the stitches are holding up nicely.” Steve couldn’t understand why hearing Jim saying that so calmly made him uneasy.

“So what happened, did you trip and fall in a shard of glass or something?” 

The trollhunter let out a sarcastic laugh while forcing a smile on his face. “Oh I wish that was the case, but no. I got stabbed by someone during a fight.” 

“Must have been one hell of a fight.” Jim felt a tingling feeling in his hands the moment Steve spoke. 

“Yeah.... It was.” When the blonde bully turned his attention away from Jim, he quickly glanced at his hands, but the brief memory of blood, his blood, covering the entirety of his palms made him close his eyes shut. Jim can’t let this happen, especially now at school. 

The trollhunter pushed those emotions aside, he can deal with them later. “How did you get detention this time?” Jim asked, hoping to start a conversation as a distraction.

“Got caught copying someone else’s work.” Jim had a surprised look on his face, which then Steve remarked, “Yeah, what a surprise. Steve Palchuck gets in trouble for something that doesn’t involve hurting people.”

 “Hey! I didn’t-” The trollhunter paused for a few seconds before he sighed with guilt. “You just have a reputation okay? And not a good one, but you already know that. I know you are capable of being a nice person. You were a good person back when-” Jim flinched at that last part. He shouldn’t have done that, he shouldn't have been digging up the past where at this point it doesn’t matter.

Luckily for Jim, Toby and Mary had returned. “Hey, hey, hey, we’re back! Now if you can please follow us, that’d be really nice.” Toby announced happily. 

Jim quickly hopped off the desk and sped walk towards his best friend, while avoiding his gaze at Steve. As the group walked out of school grounds, a car was parked in front of the school's entrance. The front window lowered and revealed Darci seating in the driver’s seat.

“Darci? What are you doing here?” Claire asked in surprise, making her way in front of the group.

“Helping you escape this prison Clairebear. We’re going to have a bonfire party tonight.” 

The idea of having a rebellious party is what all it took to persuade her, as she wasted no time to get inside the passenger’s seat. 

Mary and Toby looked at the rest of the group with anticipation. “Do you need an invitation or something, come on we don’t have all day.” Mary said, her patience already wearing thin. 

Eli and Shannon were the next ones to get inside the car, though it seemed like Shannon had helped Eli to gain the courage to even pursue that action. Steve then went as well and sat in the front seat, much to Mary’s annoyance. So there was one person left.

“Wrong’s Jimbo?” Toby asked while inside of the car as well. 

Jim believed this was bad, that this was going to get them into even more trouble than they already were. But Toby took the time to make this happen, and would most likely face the punishment the worst when they face the consequences. So he came up with an excuse. 

“Well, there’s no more room for me in the back.” Jim explained, seeing that three people had one person sitting on their lap. 

“It’s okay, you can just sit on Steve’s lap.” Darci said.

“What!?” Both the two male teens exclaimed.

“Look, it’s not the end of the world if you two are close to each other for a while.” Mary reassured, who was beyond done at this point. 

Jim took a deep breath and reluctantly made his way to the front door and when opened, he sat on top of the blonde bully. “Okay, you guys ready?” Darci laughed at the sound of various happy remarks she got at once. 

The ride through Arcadia was a nervous wreck for Jim, and who could blame him. He was sitting on his former bully’s lap after what he had assumed to be an emotional conversation, the trollhunter still couldn’t look Steve in the eye. 

At some point, they had stopped at a gas station. “Why did we stop?” Shannon asked. 

“Almost out of gas, and also so we can get some snacks as well.” Darci explained, getting out of the car while doing so.

“You didn’t bring any food?” Eli added as everyone started to leave for the store.

“I did. Just thought it’d be nice to get something for ourselves Eli.” 

As the young teens ran around the building to see what they could buy. Jim mindlessly wandered around, fidgeting his hands. Darci said she had food so he didn’t really need anything from the store. Just his luck, the trollhunter managed to bump into Steve.

“Ah! Sorry.” Jim apologized. 

The blonde bully didn’t say anything for a moment. “Not getting anything for yourself.”

It was then Jim noticed that Steve was carrying a couple of chips and a soda in his arms. “Um, no. We already have food in the car so what's the point?” 

“The point would be because it’s fun picking stuff out that you like.” Steve rolled his eyes when it looked like Jim still didn’t get it. “Come on Lake. There has to be something here your craving about.”

The trollhunter could only shrug back. The blonde teen then grabbed Jim by the arm and dragged him towards one of the store’s aisles. He let go and said, “Pick something.” 

Jim glanced at the products in front of him. “Why?”

“Because you have to learn how to act like a teenager, starting by buying something for yourself.”

“But-”

“Stop asking questions and just pick something.”

The trollhunter couldn’t understand why Steve was so persistent. Unless he took what Jim said at school to heart. No, that couldn't be the case. Steve hated him and listening to him would be the last thing he’d ever do. Jim sighed and walked closer to the aisle to inspect what was in front of him. Each row had a large variety of sweets and candy, and the trollhunter looked at the price tags to see if he could afford it. Taking into account the cost, Jim started grabbing his favorite candy. And he might or might have not gone overboard, as he was having a difficult time carrying the large amounts of sweets

Steve watched in surprise as Jim turned to him and asked, “Is this too much?”

“Uh no, not at all.” He lied. “Is there anything else you want to get?” 

The trollhunter hummed thoughtfully and went to another aisle while the blonde bully followed nearby. Jim took a few more things and when he was done, the two of them went to the cash register to pay. The cashier asked them if they wanted a bag, while also giving Jim a funny look. Steve declined but the trollhunter accepted the offer. 

As both of them walked out of the store, the rest of the group were waiting for them in the car.

“Omg, what took you guys so long?” Mary complained. 

“Lake had some issues, nothing to worry about. We’re here aren’t we.” Steve answered, getting back inside the car as Jim sat on his lap again.

Mary pouted and crossed her arms while Darci and Claire stifled a snicker. The moment they continued driving, Jim began to get lost in his thoughts. The trollhunter had the window open, as he found the breeze flowing past his face soothing. Their destination was a small clear area that had the set up a campfire and some logs to sit on. Despite never coming here, Jim knew that this was one of the many hotspots in Arcadia that teens would place their parties.

As they all got out of the car, the boys helped Darci take out the firewood from the trunk while the girls brought the food out. While Steve, Eli, and Mary were bickering on how to start a fire, Jim was looking inside the bag that contained what he bought and came to the conclusion that he did go overboard.

“Hey Jimbo, wanna trade some snacks?” Toby asked as it seemed he appeared out of nowhere, which startled the trollhunter.

‘Uh, I don’t know. What do you have?” His best friend took out his snacks while Jim showed him the contents inside.

Toby laughed in surprise and said, “Oh wow! Maybe I should’ve been with you. Man, I forgot that you have a terrible sweet tooth.”

 Jim's face turned red from embarrassment and his shoulders tensed. “I do not have a sweet tooth.”

“Right, I’ve been on a diet for fourteen years.” Toby commented sarcastically. “Now about our trade.”

“Forget it.” The trollhunter said. “You don’t have anything I want anyways.”

Jim turned away from his friend dramatically and stormed off as Toby watched with an amusing smile. The trollhunter sat on a log where it had a clear view of his hometown below.

“Nice view, right?” Claire stated, sitting next to Jim. 

“Yeah, but I prefer our spot.” He admitted.

The two went quiet for a while, watching the sun slowly disappear from their sight. “So how’s your first party as a teenager going?” She jokingly asked. 

But as Jim thought about, this actually was his first time. He was never social enough at school to be involved in stuff like this. The trollhunter wondered if he should feel sad for himself about this fact. “It’s going okay.” He decided to say.

“And I noticed you’ve been talking to Steve quite a lot today.” 

“What? Am I not allowed to?” Jim remarked with a smile.

“Not at all. It’s just interesting, that’s all. Steve kind of hates your guts.” Claire explained with a shrug.

The trollhunter hummed in acknowledgment. “I don’t know, today was different. It seemed like I wasn't trying to be mean towards me. I don’t think he’s even messed with Eli all day.” 

“Hey, maybe your good vibes are finally rubbing off on him.” She suggested.

“My what?”

Claire rolled her eyes and leaned closer to Jim. “Come on now. You have an effect on people, able to bring the good that’s inside of them.” 

“Listen, if I really had that effect on people, then I would have been on Steve’s good side by now. Hell, I wouldn’t have gone to the Darklands if I was capable of doing that.” The trollhunter managed to stop himself before he could open that can of worms even further. Truth be told, Jim thought Steve was just taking pity on him. 

“That’s true, but you try. And that’s all that matters really. You did that with Draal and look where it got you. You gained a new friend because of that.” The trollhunter chuckled, she got him there. 

“I guess you have a point.” 

“I always do.” She remarked with a wink.

The two of them then burst out laughing softly. Claire heard the sound of someone calling her name and turned to the left side to see Darci waving at her. “Well, I gotta go.”

Jim made a small wave goodbye as she left to help out her friend. The trollhunter glanced down at his bag of candy that was on the floor and grabbed a handful. As he took out the wrapper and began eating, his face then beamed with happiness as he felt surgery flavor in his mouth. Jim then felt a newfound warmth behind him, turned around to see the campfire finally ignited. 

He saw Steve glared at Mary, who had a smug expression, while Eli tried to hold back his laughter. The blonde bully sat at the nearest log, which was Jim’s, and started wiping off the soot on his face.

“Geez, what happened?” The trollhunter asked, continuing to eat his candy.

“Mary and I were arguing about how to start the fire. It didn’t go well.” Steve explained.

“She shouldn’t have done that, inhaling fumes from a fire can really damage your lungs.” 

“Well, not everyone knows about doctor stuff Lake.” He said, placing his hand under his chin.

Jim narrowed his eyes and asked, “Why are you talking to me?” 

“Huh?”

“It’s just, really confusing. You never seem to like me and you know, the whole bully shtick. But ever since last week when you found me in the locker room, you’ve been, nicer? I guess. And what I said earlier at school, you don’t look upset about that. I- do you feel bad for me or something?” The trollhunter was rambling, he very much knew that but this was starting to bother him to no end. 

Luckily for Jim, Steve covered his mouth with his hand, asking, “Are you done?”

He nodded and the blonde teen retracted his hand back. “That time in the locker room I guess you can say opened my eyes. And I wasn’t mad about what you said at school because it’s true. Maybe I can be a better person, but I never expected it to be this hard. How can I do that if I even don’t know who that better person is.” Steve yelled in frustration and pulled his hair back. “Whatever, it might not even be worth it in the long run.”

“Hey, it is worth it.” Jim hesitated but touched Steve by the shoulder. “Maybe you just need someone to help you out.”

“Like you?”

“I… don’t see why not.” The trollhunter admitted. “And, I’d like to see who the real Steve Palchuck is.”

The blonde teen looked away and huffed. “Fine, but don’t go telling anyone about this and getting their hopes up, in case this doesn’t work.” 

Jim laughed and ate another candy from his bag. “You’ve kept your word about my secret, so I’ll mine for yours.” The trollhunter’s smile was so genuine and soft that Steve couldn’t help but smile back.

Not long after, the sun had disappeared completely and the night took over the skies. The group walked closer to where the fire's light could reach. Some were trying to make some while others were simply talking.

“So any clue to what the adults are going to do to us when we come back?” Darci asked while making sure her marshmallow wasn’t getting too burned. 

“Other than grounding all of us for like an eternity?” Mary remarked.

Darci playfully pushed Mary. “Come on, be realistic. All I know is that my dad is totally going to take my car away.”

“Well be glad you don’t have parents like mine. They’re going to be on me twenty-four seven after this.” Claire said distastefully, cringing at the thought of it. 

“I don’t think it matters what our parents do to us. Because we already know that what we did today was against the rules.” Shannon stated, she then stared up at the stars and asked, “It’s funny, we’re all practically in the same class every year and yet some of us don’t know a single thing about each other. And took getting detention for us to spend time together.”

“What if we can change that?” Everyone looked at Jim, who then stood up. “Everyone talks about how hard it is to be a teenager, well maybe being there for each other can help that.”

“Hey, Jimbo is right. We’re all struggling if mostly the same issues as teenagers, why not suffer together to make this world more tolerable?” Toby stood by his friend’s side like he always does and forever will.

The group looked at each other, and although no one said anything, everyone knew that they were on board with this. Jim was anxious about this, being a part of a group as big as this was new to him. But today, he has never felt this excited and happy since he got the amulet, so the trollhunter knew it must have meant something. 

His thoughts were interrupted however by the touch of a raindrop. It soon didn’t take long for the rain to start pouring in. 

“Arggh! Are you serious?!” Mary shouted.

“Let’s get to the car and leave!” Darci stated as they began running out of the campsite.

“But where will we go?!” Eli asked.

“How about my house?! My mom won’t be home for at least a few hours!” Jim offered.

The teens got inside the car, all them in the same seats they were earlier, including the ones who had to sit on someone’s laps.  Darci said, “Yeah, that’s a good idea,” and began to drive off.

“Man! I can’t believe today was ruined by the stupid rain!” Mary complained with a pout.

“What talking about, we all had fun. So why let a little rain ruin the moment?” Steve remarked.

As they drove back to Arcadia. Jim leaned to the car’s seat while he heard Claire, Toby, and Mary debate about one of the Gun Robot movies. Jim smiled in delight until he looked out the window from Darci’s side. For a split second, he saw a large shadowy figure running towards them. Jim acted fast and tried to shield Darci and Steve but in the end, it wouldn’t matter much in the long run.

The impact was powerful, as it flung the car off the road and towards the wood. The car flipped around so many times since, beyond the road, there was a hill there before they could even make it to the woods. Jim closed his eyes shut as he was thrashed around by the car’s force and because he wasn’t wearing a seat belt. To the trollhunter, it felt like he would be stuck in this endless cycle of recurring pain. So the moment the car stopped moving, Jim laid there with a blank stare for a moment, hearing the soft sounds of the rain pouring outside. 

He then looked up and saw Steve and Darci dangling from their seats. If the car was flipped upside down then that’d mean, Jim lifted himself and the pain all over his right side finally registered to him. He was indeed laying on shards of glass. The trollhunter slowly concluded that they needed to get out of this car. Ignoring the throbbing pain that came from the back of his head, the trollhunter made his way to the door. 

However, when Jim pushed the door’s handle, it wouldn’t open. He retried multiple times before accepting that the front door was stuck. So the trollhunter repositioned himself, wincing as he felt the shard of glass piercing through his forearms. Jim extended his right leg and tried to kick down the door. An awful sensation traveled through his leg. He tightened his hands into a fist and clenched his teeth with all his might, fighting back the urge to scream. A quiet whine escaped his lips, something was wrong with his right leg but it definitely wasn’t broken. So he tried his left leg, after a few tries the door still wouldn’t open.

Jim needed more strength than he had currently, so he took out the amulet for his pocket, very much grateful that it was still with him, and said the incantation. 

“F...for the Glory…of...of Merlin…Day…Daylight is…s Mine to Co….Command…” As the amulet shined a flash of light, the trollhunter felt his newfound strength the moment his armor appeared around him, and once three kicks, the door flew open. 

Jim dragged himself out of the car and stood up. A wave of dizziness hit him, and his body felt heavy. He stumbled for a bit but managed to get his balance in check. He couldn’t get like this, Jim reminded himself. Getting to the task at hand, the troll hunter went to Steve’s side and unbuckled his seatbelt. He made sure that his fellow student didn’t go into contact with the floor and carried him outside. Once Jim placed Steve on the ground, he went back and forth doing the same process with the others. First Toby, then Mary, then Shannon.

When he was carrying Eli out, a loud growl echoed through the woods. The trollhunter felt a shiver run down his spine, as the color drained from his face, knowing full well that the sound did not come from an animal. Setting his classmate down, he grabbed the handle of his sword and spun around face whatever troll that would come his way. Jim at first could only see a pair of glowing blue eyes, but as the troll got closer, the trollhunter began to recognize its appearance.

“Draal?” Jim's voice wavered. No, he would never have done this. Something else must be amiss. 

The troll wasted no time and charged towards the trollhunter. Jim moved to the side and saw his classmates. He can’t let his friends get hurt. So he ran, as fast as he could, hearing a fearsome roar that felt all too familiar. The trollhunter saw from the corner of his eye Draal spinning towards him. Jim summoned his shield to block his attack, the impact sending him flying off a distance, landing straight towards a tree. The trollhunter had the air knocked out of him as the moment he hit that tree, he heard a loud CRACK! And the pain from his spine shot all over his body. Jim dropped to his knees as tears welled up in his eyes, as he desperately gasped for air. 

With a shaky breath, Jim slowly got back up as he felt Draal’s presence. Every moment made the trollhunter feel like he was on fire, but he had to ignore it. He had to. Jim looked up at the troll in front of him, with Daylight in his hands again, and muttered, “What…what did you do to him?” His words slurred.

Draal, or rather whoever was inside of him, laughed. And the trollhunter recognized that voice. “Gunmar.” He thought.

“The mighty trollhunter, defeated by one blow.” The skullcrusher mocked. “I expected more out of one who slain my son.”

“You didn’t defeat me just yet… There’s still a little fight in me left.” Jim lifted his sword with all his strength and went into a fighting stance. “So we’re not done until I say it is!” He said with such rage. 

How dare Gunmar take his friend away from him. Was there seriously no limit to how low he will go? 

“No matter how different you all are.” Gunmar spun again, but Jim moved to the side in time to avoid his attack. “Every trollhunter will always be stubborn!” The troll leaped and dived down with a punch. Jim swung his sword but didn’t hit his opponent. Despite who was trying to kill him, it was still Draal’s body. And Jim had hope, hope that there was a chance to bring his friend back. 

So the trollhunter hoped that it would trick the skullcrusher and force him to keep his distance. It didn’t work. Gunmar grabbed Jim and slammed him against the ground. “You cannot deceive me trollhunter. You must kill this pathetic excuse of a troll or it will be used against you.”

As Jim struggled to breathe while Gunmar tightened his grip, he said, “ I… I’m not going to hurt my friend. A-and you are a coward! Using others to do your dirty work and can’t even face me yourself!” 

The prideful smile the skullcrusher had faded away and snarled at the trollhunter. “Let’s see how well you can amuse me?” 

He flung Jim away, and the trollhunter quickly stumbled back up as Gunmar charged towards him again. This was a fight Jim could barely remember, maybe for good reason. For the only thing the trollhunter can remember was the unbearable pain the dark overlord gave him. 

Steven heard the muffled sounds of the rain before he could wake up. When his hearing and vision became clearer, the blonde teen could now hear voices shouting at each other, but one caught his attention in particular. “Hey, come on wake up. We need all the help we can get.” Toby desperately shook Steve by the shoulder. 

The blonde teen turned to see Claire trying to calm Mary down, while Darci was with Shannon, checking for any injuries she might have with the help of Eli. 

“Mary calm down! You could hurt yourself more!” 

“Don’t tell me to calm down Clairebear! We were in an accident and one of us is missing! And I don’t have any service on my phone so I can’t call for help!” She shouted at her friend. Mary scrubbed the tears coming from her eyes as she sped-walk around the area to get service.

Claire grabbed Mary’s hands and drew her friend close to her. “Listen, you have the right to freak out. But not right now, I have to see if you’re hurt first. We’ll find a way to get help I promise.”

 Mary sniffed and silently nodded. Then Toby snapped his fingers in front of him to bring Steve’s attention back to him.

“Hey! I know you’re in some kind of shock right now but I seriously need you to snap out of it.” Toby began to mumble to himself, too low for Steve to hear.

Steve pushed himself forward to a sitting position, his body felt heavy and the world around began to feel dizzy for him. “We… we were in a car crash.” He stated, more to himself than the person next to him.

“Yeah. A pretty nasty one at best. But Jim is missing and I can’t find him anywhere.” Toby explained. “I think he tried to take us all out of the car but it seems like something made him stop.” The redhead had a terrible feeling that this wasn’t a normal accident.

“Lake… was sitting in front of me, he.... he wasn’t wearing a seatbelt.” 

Toby pulled his hair back and tried to ignore the implications of that comment. “Which is why I need your help to find him.” 

The redhead helped Steve get up, who almost stumbled back down to the ground. To be honest, Toby would’ve picked someone else to help him. But Claire was busy with making sure everyone else was calm and alright. 

The two made their way through the woods, calling for Jim when Steve began to notice that a lot of the trees were knocked down in half. And among the broken trees, he could see blood splattered around the area. 

“Domzalski.” The blonde teen showed Toby his findings.

The redhead felt his blood turning cold, coming to the terrifying realization of the worst-case scenario had come true. All he knew was that his best friend was in serious trouble and that there was something dangerous in the woods.

“Follow me. And make sure to keep up! Being alone right now is too risky.” Steve was caught off guard by how serious Toby sounded, but he couldn’t blame him. 

They both knew that if they found Jim, it wasn’t going to be a pretty sight to see. Following the path of the destruction of the woods, the two finally heard something. As they walked closer to the source, the sounds of roaring and scraping became louder and louder. Toby suddenly ran towards the danger while Steve had no choice but to follow. They slid down a short, muddy, hill and very quickly Toby made Steve hide under the bushes.

But he was stronger than the redhead and got up. The blonde teen was going to shout at him until he looked in horror at what he saw. In front of them was Jim, who was laying on the ground with some kind of armor, his face covered in blood. From behind the trollhunter, was some kind of beast that loomed over him. Steve acted on instinct and rushed over there to help but Toby stopped, this time making sure that Steve doesn’t interfere.

“Let go of me, Domzalski.” The blonde teen whispered with such intense anger.

“No. You’ll make things worse.” Toby warned with a shaky voice, never taking his eyes off the beast.

“Worse? How can I make it worse when Lake is over there dying because of that, that monster?!” Steve was beginning to find it very hard to not shout.

“Exactly. You’re going to get yourself killed like that and that “monster” might decide to come after the others.” 

Steve knew that Toby was right but was too furious to admit it. And it wasn’t like the redhead was on board with this either. He wanted to help his friend, he wanted to so much but knew the harsh reality of the situation, which was that he wasn’t enough to protect Jim from Gunmar and would endanger his classmates. 

As Jim slowly tried to drag himself away from the beast with the strength he had left, it grabbed him by the hair, pulled him close, and whispered something to him. Steve and Toby held their breath at the sight of the beast slamming the trollhunter’s face into the ground, which made the armor disappear. Steve was sure that it was going to kill Jim but to his and Toby’s surprise, and relief, the beast walked away with a victorious smile and disappeared into the night. 

There was a moment of silence. No one spoke, no one, only the sound of rain pouring down and the wind blowing the trees. Then, the painful moans that came from the trollhunter made Steve rushed towards him. He fell to his knees, flipped Jim over, and held him close. The trollhunter’s blue sweater was tainted by a crimson red color all over, he tried to speak but the blood inside this mouth made it impossible to do so. 

Steve stared at Jim and muttered, “He... he needs to go to the hospital,” before glancing at Toby, who was covering his mouth as tears welled up in his eyes. “Domzalski!” He shouted. “He needs to get to a hospital.” 

“My phone broke during the crash.” Toby said quietly. “Maybe...  maybe the others already called for help.” Steve was going to follow the redhead but was stopped. “No! He might be too unstable to move. So please, stay here until I come back.” 

“O-okay.” No. Steve couldn’t do it, he couldn’t handle hearing Jim desperately trying to talk for whatever reason even though he was choking on his own blood, his wide eyes frantically darting from every direction.

The trollhunter was just as scared as Steve was, maybe even more. Now with a prickly feeling in his blood-soaked hands, the blonde teen moved Jim’s face to his direction and repeated the phrases, “I-it’s going to be okay. Just ha-hang in there. Help’s on the away...” over, and over, and over, and over again with only one thought in his mind:

He never expected to see this much blood to come out of only one person.

[carlosgabrielruiz]

PINKERTON - 33 1/3 Proposal Part 6

CHAPTER 4 Many Rivers to Cross:A Brief History of Rivers Cuomo

For most people, Weezer begins and ends with Rivers Cuomo. Period. Point blank. Rivers Cuomo is undoubtedly the brains and heart behind the band – without him, there would simply be no Weezer. Rivers is the primary songwriter, lyricist, band director, and de facto Great Leader (although it should be noted that in the early days he shared some of those songwriting duties and credits with Matt Sharp and original guitarist Jason Cropper). 

Rivers was born in Manhattan on June 13, 1970. He grew up in upstate New York in the Buddhist Zen Center where his father was a farmer. In 1975, his father left the family and Rivers moved to Connecticut with his mother and brothers to live in Yogaville on an ashram farm.(1) He grew up as a quiet and shy child only later to become a metalhead with an outgoing love for Kiss and Van Halen.

When he turned 18 Rivers moved to L.A. and started to officially make a go of it in music. He got a job at Tower Records and was introduced to drummer Pat Wilson. (2) They became friends and formed a band called Fuzz. Rivers moved into Pat’s apartment which he shared with Matt Sharp, who was a talented multi-intrumentalist. Matt soon decided to join them and they embarked on an odyssey that would eventually make musical history. 

Valentine’s Day of 1992 was a momentous occasion for the newly formed, yet still-unnamed, new band because that was the day that Rivers Cuomo (lead guitar), Matt Sharp (bass), Jason Cropper (guitar), and Pat Wilson (drums) first gathered together to rehearse and record their sessions. The band “got together at T.K. rehearsal studios, in West LA, and rehearsed for either 3 or 4 days straight.”(3) The demo tape that was made during the session featured a list of all the potential band names they were toying with at the time including the initial band name “Fuzz”, as well as “Meathead”, “Outhouse”, “Hummingbird”, “the Big Jones” and “This Niblet”.

Things moved quickly for the band from there. A little over a year after their first official rehearsal, the band - now officially named Weezer - signed a major label record deal with Geffen Records. The band had hoped to self-produce their debut, but the suits at Geffen were not going to let that happen. Eventually, the band picked Cars’ frontman, Ric Ocasek, to handle production on the record. According to Rivers Cuomo, “The record company was really pushing us to work with a producer, so we figured that if we had to have somebody in the studio with us, it might as well just be someone who writes good songs – and the Cars’ first record just rules.” (4) 

The band went to Electric Ladyland studios in New York to work on their record. Everything was going great up until it wasn’t. There were internal problems with the guitarist Jason Cropper that led to Rivers firing him from the band. According to Ric Ocasek, “He (Rivers) called me when the record was finished, the day before we were supposed to start mixing, and said, ‘Listen, I just fired the guitar player.’ So I said, ‘What are you gonna do now?’ He’s like, ‘I want all of his parts off the record.’” Luerssen (2004)

With two days before mixing was due to begin in New York, Sharp and Cuomo called Brian Bell.5 He auditioned on tape and was hired to replace Jason. But it was too late to in the game to fly him out to re-record all of Jason’s guitar parts. Under the gun, and with only a day of studio time left before mixing was slated to begin, Rivers re-recorded all of the guitar parts himself (even though Brian is credited on the record).

The Blue Album was released on May 10th, 1994. The 10-track LP provided a “new roadmap for alt-rock following the death of Kurt Cobain and the conclusion of grunge’s first era.”(5) The catchy power-pop record with hook-laden choruses and kitschy Spike Jonze directed videos was an overwhelming success. It would invade the mainstream and go on to sell over 3 million records in the U.S. alone. The band went on a seemingly never-ending tour to promote the record. 

Rivers struggled with the newly found fame and success that the Blue Album had brought the band. He was “frustrated by the limitations of rock and the lifestyle of touring around on a bus and playing the same songs over and over.” Cohen (2015). So he did what most people in his position would do, he put the band on a hiatus and enrolled in Harvard to study classical music. 

But before the semester started, Rivers decided to fix his right leg, which was two inches shorter than his left leg. The surgery on his right leg left him in agonizing pain. It would be a long recovery. During his first year at Harvard Rivers’ right leg was encased in a metal frame that would require him to adjust and tighten the screws daily in order to elongate the bone.(6) He became hooked on painkillers and opioids while trying to manage the pain.

As he told The New York Times. “I grew a long beard and walked around with a cane… The only time I could write songs was when my frozen dinner was in the microwave.” Rockland (2006) “Where I was emotionally … I went to a more serious and dark place.” Runtagh (2019). 

Alone and in pain, Rivers was listening to a lot of classical music and he kept coming back to the opera Madame Butterfly by Puccini. “One of my favorite operas by him was Madama Butterfly, specifically when the role was played by Maria Callas,” he recalled to Pitchfork. “On tour, I would listen to her every night after the show and be so moved by the depth of emotion and sadness and tragedy. It really was calling to me, like, “Come on, Rivers. You can go there. You can go much further with your music than ‘The Sweater Song’ or ‘Buddy Holly’.” Cohen (2015)

His deeply personal and emotional lyrics were raw, to say the least. He opened himself up to a level of honesty, anger, pain, and emotional truth that was only hinted at within the Blue Album’s casual, ironic detachment. But make no mistake, that anger and honestly was always there just below the surface, only it was wrapped around a bouncy hook with a singalong chorus. 

With a dozen or more new songs ready to record, Weezer decided to head to the studio. Only this time, they would self produce the new record themselves. They wanted a feel that was similar to their live shows that would better capture the power and energy of their new songs. The resulting record was a “grittier, slightly darker sound that was more Pixies than the polished power-pop Ric Ocasek had helped the band realize on the Blue Album.” (7)

A few months before the album was slated for release, Rivers Cuomo “issued a precarious warning to the band’s fan club about his mental state during the writing process:” Braun (2016).

There are some lyrics on the album that you might think are mean or sexist. I will feel genuinely bad if anyone feels hurt by my lyrics but I really wanted these songs to be an exploration of my ‘dark side’ – all the parts of myself that I was either afraid or embarrassed to think about before. So there’s some pretty nasty stuff on there. 

You may be more willing to forgive the lyrics if you see them as passing low points in a larger story. And this album really is a story: the story of the last two years of my life. And as you’re probably well aware, these have been two very weird years.

But the worst was yet to come... TO BE CONTINUED IN THE 33 1/3 BOOK PINKERTON 

1 - Weezerpedia. Rivers Cuomo. https://www.weezerpedia.com/wiki/Rivers_Cuomo.

2 - Cohen, Ian. (2015, February 9). Rivers Cuomo. Pitchfork. https://pitchfork.com/features/5-10-15-20/9590-rivers-cuomo/.

3 - The Weezer Recording History. (2006, February). Weezer.com. http://www.weezer.com/info/recording/WeezRecHist3.htm.

4 - Luerssen, John D. (2004, August 1). River’s Edge: The Weezer Story. Toronto. ECW Press.

5 - Runtagh, Jordan. (2019, May 10). Weezer’s Blue Album: 10 Things You Didn’t Know. Rolling Stone. https://www.rollingstone.com/music/music-features/weezer-blue- album-rivers-cuomo-things-you-didnt-know-822881/.

6 - Rockland, Kate. (2006, February 16). At School with Rivers Cuomo: Student with a Past. The New York Times. https://www.nytimes.com/2006/02/16/garden/16weezer.html.

7 - Braun, Laura Marie. (2016, September 23). How Weezer’s ‘Pinkerton’ Went from Embarassing to Essential. Rolling Stone. https://www.rollingstone.com/music/music- features/how-weezers-pinkerton-went-from-embarrassing-to-essential-105567/.

[rhinozilla]

“Safety”

(DBH Found Family June 2020 challenge hosted by @dbh-found-family Week 2, Prompt 2: Safety.)

When Hank had referred to Connor as a “poodle,” he’d been making a joke at the android’s expense about how he kept trailing after Hank like a well trained dog. He’d made his joke and thought nothing of it afterward for months, until one day Chris had teasingly said that Connor was acting like a puppy after getting his first, true, genuine compliment from Captain Fowler on his detective work on a recent case. The kid had been walking on air all afternoon, eyes bright and grinning like an idiot. If he’d had a tail, it would have been wagging up a storm.

Speaking of storms…here was another prime example of why Connor was part-dog.

There had been rain in the forecast all day, but it wasn’t until the past hour that the sky had just cracked open and unleashed a deluge over the city. Wind made the hard, stinging rain come in at a damn near 45 degree angle. There was no coat or umbrella that would save you from just getting soaked, but fortunately, Hank and Connor had gotten home and in the house about five minutes before it struck. Unfortunately, the elderly woman who lived across the street had left every window on her car open, and it was going to likely rain like this all night.

Connor had seen her hobble out onto her front porch in distress, and he had practically bolted out the door and across the street to help her. The rain had already made the steps slick, and Mable already had a bad hip, that Hank could remember. Before Hank could take a step to join his friend, Connor had climbed into her car, interfaced with the autonomous software, and electronically rolled up all the windows and closed the sun roof. He had ducked under the cover of the porch long enough to help Mable back in her house, and then he had returned to Hank’s house…looking like he had climbed out of a swimming pool.

Hank swore to God that Connor actually shook himself once he was in the house, but it didn’t do any good. Kid was soaked to the bone…er…whatever. By the time he got toweled off and changed into warm, dry clothes, the storm had been in full swing, complete with thunder, lightning, and the occasional flickering lights. Hank collected a few lanterns and flashlights just in case, returning to the living room to find Connor sitting on the couch looking miserable.

Sumo had leapt up onto the couch beside him, knowing full well he wasn’t allowed on the couch. Tonight, though, Hank didn’t have the heart to make him get down. The scary lightning and thunder had turned the big oaf into a whimpering lump, and the lingering cold and damp from the rain had turned Connor into an equally disgruntled-looking lump.

Another flash of lightning illuminated the windows, and Sumo keened loudly. Connor lifted a hand and scratched Sumo behind the ears…and the motion almost hid his own startle when the thunder followed a few seconds later. Hank smirked to himself as he walked behind the couch, ruffling a hand through Connor’s still-damp hair.

“Feeling better?” he asked, walking around the side of the couch and sitting down on it beside Connor.

Connor gave a lackluster shrug, petting Sumo more through another peal of thunder. “I’m all right. However, Sumo isn’t having a good time.”

“Yeah, most dogs I’ve had all hated storms,” Hank explained, using the remote to turn on the television and find the local weather channel. “When Sumo was still a puppy, he’d hide under the bed until he got too big to fit,” he chuckled, thinking back on it fondly.

“Sumo, the storm can’t hurt you,” Connor assured the big mutt.

He sounded so concerned and sincere that Hank had to stifle an amused snort. He didn’t hide it well.

“What?” Connor asked, burrowing his hands in the front pocket of his hoodie and looking at Hank defensively. “I just want to assure him that he’s safe.”

Hank gave the kid an affectionate smile. “And that’s real sweet, but he’s a big boy. He can handle a measly storm.”

A particularly close bolt of lightning struck, with the thunder crashing around them almost instantaneously. And then every light in the house went out, except for the sudden, blazing red of Connor’s LED.

Almost immediately, Connor had dragged the hood of his sweater up over his head to cover the betraying light, and Hank had the good grace to pretend he didn’t notice. Instead, however, he picked up his phone to check the weather radar, also pretending he couldn’t feel Connor’s frame give a brief tremble. He flipped on a battery powered lamp on the coffee table.

“But,” Hank sighed, “even big boys like Sumo can get scared, even when they know the thing they’re scared of can’t hurt them.”

“I don’t…think Sumo knows that,” Connor mumbled, eyes downcast to the coffee table.

In the dimly lit living room, Hank gave his partner a subtle sideways look. Less subtly, he shifted in his seat to sit a little closer to Connor, leaning around him to address the dog specifically.

“Sumo,” Hank stated.

Sumo’s ears perked up, and his eyes raised to meet Hank’s. However, his head stayed on Connor’s leg, and his tail thumped once. Connor looked down at him as well, giving his head another rub.

“You’re safe,” Hank spoke at Sumo, taking the opportunity to rest his arm along the back of the couch behind Connor’s head. “Nothing bad is going to happen to you as long as I’m here. I promise. Okay?”

Connor slowly looked from Sumo to Hank. Hank just looked flatly back at him, dropping the pretense that he was trying to comfort the dog.

“Okay?” he repeated directly at Connor.

Connor didn’t smile, but his LED had shifted to yellow. Some blue was starting to cycle back into the light as well.

“Okay,” Connor said quietly.

Hank smirked and moved his hand from the back of the couch, messing with Connor’s hair again. Connor scoffed and tried to swat him away, which only encouraged Hank to keep messing with him.

The power abruptly flickered and then came back on, along with a series of beeps and clicks as the appliances came back online as well. Sumo lifted his head at that, looking around in alarm.

“Easy, you big mutt,” Hank snorted, taking up the television remote again.

Sumo let out a low, back-talking boof before he settled back down with a heavy sigh.

That finally got a tiny grin out of Connor, and he carefully started to relax into the couch, his LED calming to a cool blue.

All the crazy colors on the weather channel radar told Hank they were in for a stormy night, but mostly just rain, wind, and some isolated lightning and thunder. Nothing they hadn’t all survived before.

With that in mind, he kicked back in his seat and settled in for watching the rest of the news. And if, with every bolt of lightning and crash of thunder, Connor and Sumo both burrowed into the couch a little deeper and shifted closer together and toward Hank…Well, Hell, Hank had never been a fan of storms either, and it was nice to not have to endure a nasty storm alone.

There was safety in numbers, right?

[fredweaslies]

the gardens that grow between us | chapter one

• word count: 1328

• fic index

"ARE YOU SURE THAT'S HOW WE DO IT?" Dolores questioned.

A beret sat in her perfectly coiled hair, with a cart of luggage towered over her small stature.  Dolores was standing in between Paloma and Draco Malfoy. On the ride to King's Cross, Paloma finally told Dolores about her father's proposition. From the looks of it, Lucius Malfoy forced his son to act as some sort of tour guide of Hogwarts to the girls to get on Paloma's father's good side. Draco looked angry and bitter, which wasn't a new look for him by any means.

"God you two are wusses, yes that's how you get through." Rang Draco annoyingly. He puffed out and white-knuckled his cart of luggage. His white hair kept getting ruffled by the incoming trains by the nearby tracks.

"How do we know you're not just fucking with us?" Paloma commented sternly, her arms were crossed over her chest. At that moment a passing train flew by the station and sent a shiver up Paloma's exposed ankles and sent her dress flowing slightly.

Draco sighed heavily and stood back a few inches.

"Fine, just watch me. Lean forward and rush it." He replied coldly. With the same breath, he clutched the handle of his cart and ran forward into the wall of the train station. Paloma and Dolores winced, bracing themselves for Draco to splatter across the wall. But instead, he disappeared in front of their very eyes.

"Okay, I guess he wasn't kidding." Dolores broke quietly. Paloma giggled to herself before doing as she was instructed by Draco. In a flash, Paloma was sent tumbling into the open air. As she looked up, she saw Draco's sly smile facing towards her. Just then, Dolores was sent speeding quickly the same way they were just moments ago.

"See? God and they call you two the best witches in North America." He sneered with a cringe.

"And they call you two the best witches in North America." Paloma mimicked as they climbed onto the train and searched for an empty compartment. Draco lead the way, and the sight of students cowering by the sheer glance of him was not lost on the girls.

Quiet meows started to spill out of the pet carrier Paloma was carrying in her right hand.

"Can you quiet that thing down?" Draco snarled, shooting a nasty look at the black cat peering nervously outside of his carrier. "How can you even hear Hex?" Paloma asked softly.

Dolores stuck her fingers through the cage to pet Hex, but he launched backward and hissed at Dolores' brown barn owl, which sat quietly in its cage.

"Hey! Tell your fat cat to leave Bishop alone." Dolores scowled. "Hex is not fat, he's big-boned," Paloma said sourly. Draco rolled his eyes at the girls' petty bickering.

The three finally found an empty compartment, but as the girls sat across from each other, Draco stayed glued to the door of the compartment

"Aren't you gonna sit with us?" Dolores asked, shuffling into her bag for something. "Or are you too cool for us?" Paloma scoffed.

"I have more important things to do than sit with you two." He stated.

"Wow, so you're just going to leave your future wife here without a man while a psychopath is on the loose?" Dolores teased, leading the pair into a laughing fit.

"Shove it, Lola." Draco quipped. Somehow, he knew that Dolores hated being called Lola. This remark only had her throwing a pencil sharply towards his head, narrowly missing it as he rushed out the door and shut it loudly behind him.

"Like he has so many friends," Paloma said under her breath, looking out the window and watching students appear in front of the wall from rushing in just as they did.

A small crinkle broke the silence in the small space, the source was a copy of The Daily Prophet that Dolores excitedly bought the day before during their trip to Diagon Alley.

"Can you believe there's just some crazed dude on the loose just as we're about to start the term?" Dolores asked with a shocked expression, pacing through the pages of the paper.

"Hopefully he gets Draco before we can put up with him any longer." Paloma joked, sending Dolores' foot to kick her under the table. "You are such a dick," Dolores remarked, stifling a laugh.

Before they knew it, the platform outside the window cleared out and only left somber parents waving at their kids inside the train. The train's engine erupted, and the environment outside the window quickly raced by and disappeared.

"Do you know who else got accepted into Hogwarts?" Paloma asked.

With Dolores' head still buried in the paper, she replied "Supposedly Janice Beckhart, Lydia Ngyuen, and Gemma Sailing."

"Solid group I see," Paloma confirmed. As much as she wanted to share her excitement with her best friend, the pair stayed quiet and enjoyed the sights from outside. Hex meowed lazily and Bishop hooted at any bump the train hit on the tracks. But, the quiet murmur of the train was interrupted with a loud crash and commotion from near their compartment.

"What the-" Dolores started, not being able to finish her thought as she listened closely for anything else. Paloma shot up from the seat and peered her head out of the compartment, quickly seeing that other students were doing the same. She could hear owls down the train hooting away at the disruption. The hallway seemed clear, but an open compartment just a few doors down had the limbs of several people poking out. Paloma shut the door and shrugged at Dolores before taking her seat again.

Just a few beats later, Draco came rushing into the compartment. He couldn't even make out an explanation without breaking out into laugher.

"What happened?" Paloma asked, her question was met with the loud shut of the door and the creak of the leather seats as he sat down next to her.

"Harry Potter just fainted over a dementor." He managed to make out. His light complexion was flushed with red as he continued to laugh.

"If I saw one of those things I'd shit myself too, are you kidding?" Paloma's face twisted in disgust as she turned to Draco and elbowed him in his side.

"Wait, Harry Potter is - here?" was Dolores' only reaction, this was enough to make her put the paper down and set it on the table between them.

Draco sobered up and glared across the table over to her.

"That prick? Yes, he's here." He remarked angrily, sinking into the seat.

"I'm taking that you don't like the kid?" Paloma said.

"Thinks he's hot shit around school." He muttered. The pink in his face from laughing was starting to fade.

"Whatever you say," Dolores whispered.

"Put on our robes now, we're getting close," Draco demanded to the girls. All three of them grabbed for their robes and piled out of the compartment, and came back donning the black uniforms.

"These are pretty sick." Commented Paloma, who was glad she no longer had to put up with the tweed skirts and itchy sweaters from the institute. As they stood patting over the robes, the train started to slow. Draco sighed and led the girls out once more, meeting the congestion of students who had the same thought. Paloma clutched Hex's cage tightly and Dolores raised Bishop's cage in the air, Paloma looked at her confused. "What? She likes to be aware of her surroundings." Dolores simply put.

The girls studied the faces of their soon to be classmates carefully. Even from the looks of the train, they could tell that there more kids lining up to leave as there were girls at their school.

As they stood there waiting for everyone to get off, Paloma grabbed for Dolores' hand and squeezed it. The two girls' faces met, sharing a look of excitement for the night ahead.

◀︎ prologue ☆ chapter two ▶︎

[hunten]

@ofvast​,      continued.

mike crew is making tea for the woman who buried him alive.

it’s such a surreal thing, really. his instinct upon seeing her again had been … well, he had wanted to drop her from the stratosphere and see how wide of a grease stain the hunter left behind. but … something stops him.

she looks … exhausted. wrung out. he thinks even if he did, the fear she’d feel would be a paltry meal indeed. there was still something to be said for personal satisfaction, of course, but he’s always been the practical sort. above all else, he just wants to be left alone, and he has the feeling dropping her will be enough to send all kinds of nasty complications his way.

and so he makes daisy tonner tea, lightning-scarred fingers passing her the cup as he sits across from her.

he’s no archivist, of course, it’s not like he could compel her story out of her even if he wanted to. but she tells him anyway, and vindication, sharp and ugly, rises inside his chest. he remembers the days he had spent, half-alive, choking on soil. remembered his arms being packed in too tightly by her handiwork to move, fingernails uselessly trying to scrabble out. remembers not even being able to scream, the choking, claustrophobic fear overwhelming him, filling his mouth and crushing his ribs - he always thought it was the twisting deceit that frightened him most. but at least … that he was able to conquer.

the chokehold of the earth terrifies him.

‘ it’s a horrible kind of loneliness, isn’t it? ‘ he remarks, blowing gently on his own tea, both hands wrapped around it. ‘ the idea that there’s not another human being, anywhere in the world, who knows where you are. that you’re even still alive. something to be said, i’m sure, about how the real horror of being buried alive is that everyone’s already given you up for dead. ‘

he wonders how she had felt. no quarry, down there. no wide open spaces. both of them were so deeply unsuited for the earth. he wonders what parts of her it must have crushed.

maybe that has something to do with why she looks so underfed.

they had both been saved, in the end, but isn’t that part of the real fear of the choking? rendered helpless, immobile, relying on someone else to save you, and realizing that there might not even be anyone out there who realized you needed saving.

he still wakes up with dirt under his fingernails, some mornings. he’s been cutting them as close to the quick as possible, since.

‘ … i’d say you deserved it, but really … i’m not sure anything does. ‘ it’s remarked coolly across the table, but his eyes are level with hers, vertigo already beginning to swim around her. ‘ how did you get out? ‘

there are very few things daisy hates as much as pity.      the way basira looks at her now      —      not like a partner,      not like an equal,      but like she’s something to be coddled and like basira doesn’t know how to do that so it’s better to just leave well enough alone,      let other people handle it,      regardless of how long they’d been partners      —      it makes daisy’s stomach turn.      the way a man she’d buried took one look at her and started making tea      ...

well.      she’s not entirely sure why she came here.      making amends?      that doesn’t sound like her,      regardless of how much time she’d had to think and regret and change under the cold dark earth.      but daisy isn’t quite sure who she is anymore.      she’s been nothing but sharp teeth and hunt-hunger since she was a child,      and without she’s grown thin,      bones of her spine poking through next to her namesake-scar.

maybe it had been for understanding.      because she had buried him.      because she’d heard he’d resurfaced,      and she now understands just how cruel a fate wet soil is.      because she thought he wouldn’t give her that pitying glance      —      punishment or solidarity,      either would be more welcoming.      daisy looks down at the tea between her hands like it’s personally wronged her,      but she drinks anyways      :      doesn’t wait for it to cool down,      but she barely feels the burn of it against her tongue.      everything is still a little bit dirt-dulled.

‘      a friend.      ’            short-clipped sentences,      like they’ll keep the dizzy-spin that comes from merely being in the vast’s presence from affecting her,      like she’s still all sharp edges and short answers.      a past daisy would have stopped there.      the current daisy,      who didn’t even bring so much as a knife when she knocked on his door,      has the pained sensation that she owes an answer      —      not in the way words flow when jon asks a question and forgets to hit the off-switch on his static-speech,      but in a guilty way that she decidedly does not prefer.            ‘      jon.      he pulled me out.      ’

(      a hand wrapped around hers.      the first touch in how long?      how long has she been here?      the soil presses into her mouth and she’d tried to keep track of time,      at first,      for a bit,      so long ago,      but she doesn’t have a watch and couldn’t move her head enough to look down at her wrist even if she did,      and she tries singing to herself sometimes,      but it isn’t enough,      nothing enough to distract from this ever-present everywhere sort of reality.      but then there’s jon’s hand,      and his voice,      and she thought she was imagining it at first,      but if she were to hallucinate someone saving her she is sure she would be picturing basira instead.      and jon’s hand on hers,      and jon’s voice in her ear,      and she can no longer imagine that she’d once wanted to kill him,      that it had seemed so right to want that,      now that he’s pulling her out of hell,      inch by inch.      )

‘      i don’t know if i would’ve cared back then      —      or,      i wouldn’t’ve,      i know,      but.      ’            the disconnect between who she was and who she is      (      and,      further,      who she thinks she might like to be      )      is wide enough to be called vast.      unsharpened nails dig into the corners of her sweater but she keeps eye contact.      it’s as close to an apology as she’ll get.            ‘      i didn’t know you’d be stuck there.      thought you were dead.      and maybe i thought you’d deserve it,      whatever was coming for you,      but.      ’

if past-daisy charged in right now,      saw her own present taking tea with mike crew,      she’s sure she would shoot without asking questions.      but now she’s softvoiced,      and she shakes her head,      leaving the sentence unfinished:      i don’t think anyone deserves that anymore,      and i don’t know how to apologize,      but let this be that.      let this unfinished thought be all the sorrys i could say.

‘      how’d you do it,      then?      ’            who pulled you from the deep?

[fairyshuuu]

Beta Special I

Genre: Mafia!Exo, my Lucky Clover series (M) Length: 2.1k Warnings: swearing, sexual mentions Thank you so much to the winner for requesting!! I love you!

Your hair whips around your face when you turn to face the sound in the empty room. The gigantically tall man comes from the side door, normally bright red hair now a deep maroon, wet tresses falling over his brows. He rolls his head back, cracking it in a way that makes it sound like he’s snapping his neck and you pull up your brow, a disgusted look on your face. He doesn’t spare you a second look, though you know he does it as a principle, and not because he doesn’t want to. His deep and raspy voice from your earlier activity cuts the silence. “Right... Out.” He mumbles, walking over to his dresser to pull a long sleeved shirt over his tattooed chest and arms.

You just roll your eyes, reaching for your heap of clothes on the floor, grabbing your pants first. The belt that hangs from it is heavy, because of the two handguns attached either side. “Fuck you.” At your voice, he looks up, just finishing pulling up his pants. “I’m not a fucking dog. Ask politely and maybe I’ll politely choose not to pull your head through your ass.” His lips twitch at that, while he slowly strays over to you, warm body being pressed to your back. He trails a thumb from your naked shoulder to the side and the front of your neck, where his very clear purple marks remain.

“You’re not staying over again.” He mumbles, breathing tickling your hair.

“Who said I want to stay in this pissy prison?” You quickly whip back, raising your eyebrows in genuine distaste. You hate this place. It’s cold and smells like blood and sweat most of the time, and is never quiet. The only reason you come here is because of him in the first place. Because he’s an asshole and doesn’t want to drive the extra mile to your place. Fucking moron.

The redhead hums, fingers wrapping around your throat, much like he had a good half hour before, only this time in a much less sexual setting. You let him, since he doesn’t put pressure on his hands. If he wants to crush your windpipe, you know he will, no matter if you’d make a run for it. He lets out a deep breath, before removing his skin entirely from yours, and goes over to the closet to grab his trusty gun. You wonder if you’ve ever really seen him without it. You must have, through the months you’ve come here again and again, but you can’t bring any image to mind.

“Chanyeol?” You whisper, turning to him as you cross your arms over your chest. He doesn’t answer, but you can tell you have his attention, by the way his hands hold the jamming in of bullets. You walk over to him more, and take a steady hold on one of the handguns that hang around your waist. He doesn’t even flinch when you push it to the bottom of his jaw, right under his chin. “I could kill you right now, you know.” You murmur, eyes keeping on his face to keep a watch out for his reaction. In your mind the choice is clear. You wouldn’t kill him even if the world would burn in return, but you know he’s scared. Scared of being open, of being vulnerable and exposed.

Now that you think it over, scared isn’t the right word. Scared is a word you’d use to describe you, under all the layers of toughened skin, leathery and weathered through the few years you’ve been in this world, but not bulletproof. Beta, the tall redhead with a smile out of a million, literally, you’d consider yourself lucky to see it every few days. Or Chanyeol, the man who would die for the ones his loyalty lies with without blinking and would do it over, a million times. Chanyeol is not scared, not like you are. More than scared, he’s terrified of not being in control. That’s truly the only thing you’ve ever seen get under his skin.

How you are standing here right now, you know that he’s already planned several ways to disarm you and shoot you between the eyes if you would think of pulling the trigger, not even a worry in his mind. He knows he’s in control, so he has no reason to be anxious. In all the time you’ve know him, there’s been times where he’s looked death in the eye, stumbling into your home through the window, covered in blood and still clinging to his gun like it’s his lifeline, but never has he looked scared of it. He just got up, and asked you to stitch up the nasty gaping hole that was leaking blood onto your floor under his ribs.

“I could kill you. I really could. I could wait until you have your back turned to me, to shoot you in the back of the head. You wouldn’t see it coming, and you wouldn’t be able to shoot me first. You’re fast, but not that fast.” You sigh, peering into his dark eyes, that find yours now. He can hear it in your voice, that you’re trying to tell him something worth considering, and you can see it in his eyes. His mind running a thousand miles an hour, trying to find the weak spot you’re pushing your nails into, prying in between his ribs to try and rip out his lungs.

“If I could,” you take the gun away from his perfectly marked skin, the little jabs and little skars that rest on his face like they do on the rest of his body, and turn around, “the other girls you are sleeping with could too. I’m not putting you responsible for my actions, and I’m not blaming you for yours, that was the deal. But I care about you. I’m not scared to admit it. I don’t want to see your haywired, messed up, totally insane and fucked, but shimmering pieces painted on these walls one day.” Chanyeol still stands frozen, though his eyes are on your face, you can feel them burning into your cheek. “Just be careful who you take home.” You end, picking up your sweater from the floor and pulling it over your head. The fabric feels itchy against your skin as you roll your shoulders and slide your gun back into your belt.

When your hand connects with the door handle, warm hands wrap around your both wrists, digging sharply into more bruises that are hidden under your sleeves. He really marked you up this time. He comes to cover your body with his from behind, holding your arms as if he suspects that you might make a run for it, while simultaneously hovering his lips over your jaw. “I could kill you... I could kill you if I felt like it.” He whispers, deep voice just barely audible in the silence of the room and the buzzing of the house that keeps you two together for a bit longer. “I could, but I won’t.”

When those words are pushed into your skin so softly, so carefully you think you might shatter them when you make a wrong move, you take a deep breath. Both because your chest feels too tight and because coming from him, they seem like they pull all the air out of your lungs. If it would have been anyone else, you think you might have connected your fist with their nose. But those words, said in his voice, steady but still fragile, you need them. You ache for them. Chanyeol would kill without hesitation. But he won’t. You feel too hot, too cold and too close, so you break away from him instead. You don’t dare look at him, even when a soft chuckle falls from his lips. You paint a little smile on your lips, mouth corners pulling up at the amused sound coming from him. “Oh shut up, Park Chanyeol.”

He stares at you for a bit longer, before wiping his face void of emotion, like a blank slate all over again but you are used to it. “You can’t use my name out there, you hear. Because I might not kill you, but they will.”

You scoff at that, drumming your fingers on your thighs. “Oh, please. Ghost has had and still probably has the biggest crush on me. I’m pretty sure I’m the only person D.O. can actually stand, and the others don’t give two shits.” The redhead gives you a stubborn pull of his eyebrow at your response. “Fine. Whatever you want, Beta.” You walk out of the door then, leaving it open for Chanyeol to follow if he feels like it but you doubt he will, and walk through some empty hallways to find the common room.

The buzzing of the lights is slightly distracting, but also a sound you’ve grown used to. Your shoes sound against the otherwise silent room, apart from the white noise from the television in the other room. You can hear Chanyeol follow a bit behind, but you don’t want to give him the satisfaction of getting you to look back. When you push open the door to the main room of the building, a few pairs of eyes shoot to your shape immediately.

“Fucking told you!” Ghost grins, his hair messy and sweaty, most likely from fighting practice earlier, as he turns towards D.O. They are both sitting on the couch, useless series playing because you know they are bored way too easily. “Fucking told you it would be her again.”

“Okay,” the short haired man sighs, his big eyes rolling as he sees Beta walk in behind you, very clear what just happened, “I never said it wouldn’t be Lily. I just said that you’re living in a dream world where everyone is romantically involved with everyone. Just because they screw each other on the regular doesn’t mean they are in love.”

“Aren’t they though, Dumbsoo?” Baekhyun mumbles, looking between you and the tallest again.

D.O. pauses for a second, before tapping his finger on the gun in his lap with a scowl. “Are you really that desperate for death? Do you really want me to break every single one of your bones all over again? Because I would love to. With a fucking smile on my face.”

“My money, pretty please.” The older grins, square smile on display as you just stare and cross your arms over your chest.

D.O. tosses Ghost a stack of bills, before focussing back on the couple kissing wildly on the screen as a shootout is happening in the background. “Thanks a lot, Lil.”

“You know what? You are so welcome. Like, so~ welcome. The most welcome.” You grin, walking over to the couch and flopping down in between the two men.

“I’ve just decided you’ve been banned from this place for ever and ever.”

“No can do.” You look over at Beta then, who is looking at you with his usual blank face, though right now his eyes are fully on yours, something you’re not really used to. “Beta needs distraction like a child with adhd after a mission, or he’ll explode. And he’s too lazy to drive to mine. I think you’re stuck to me.” D.O. doesn’t answer anymore, but you’re not looking at him anyway. You’re looking at the man in the doorway still.

After a while, he looks away, walking over to one of the rooms you’re not allowed in, his gun held steadily in his hand. It doesn’t take very long, before the sound of bullets ring out, shells clattering to the floor in a mix of noise. You imagine the dummies being drilled full of holes in the practice room. You sigh and look at your feet, a little lost at the situation.

Chanyeol and you have been in this weird sort of… crook, where he doesn’t feel like himself and you don’t feel like yourself. And you’re not sure to be happy or upset about that. Ghost slowly leans over a little, blinking his big eyes at you. “He’s never seen any other girl more than twice throughout all the time I’ve known him.” He breathes, soft voice barely reaching above the noise of the series. His slim fingers pick at his black sweater when he looks away. “You really mess him up, you know?”

This is the first of the milestone requests and I just want ti thank you all the most for getting this blog to 1500 followers. It’s an insane number and I cannot even imagine that many people but I love every single one of you so much. Thank you for reading and all your support.

[severalbakuras]

s2e17 and 18!

I҉̡̡͓̦̘̜̖̠͜ ̧̢͍̪͎̖̩̰͉̭̞̱͕̬̟̟̲̰͚̺͘T̷̸̛̞͈̙͇͇̠̼̀̕ ͏̞͕̩̣̩̳̺̼̘̭͉̞̀B̷̧̨̦̬͉̜͟͞ ̶̢̟̱̮̹̩̯̳͙͔̞͎̖̙͚̭͖̣̤͟͝É̡̙̗͖̫͇̤ ̤͓͔̮̺̺̩͖͙͘G͏̧̯͇̖̜̳̙̻̥̝̱̳̹̮͈̼̟̠͞ ̵̷̱͕͕̹̠̻̲̞̱͓̜̗̳͉̘͍͙̯I̷̶͜҉̪̼͚̫͖̬̖̦̬̤͕̥̬ ̡҉̶̖̼̫̹͕̗̣̖̙̯̻N̢̼̗̫͕̖̯̯̜̲͚͕̞̗͟͞ ͜͡҉̶̨̥̙̙͚̮̹͕̼͉͈ͅͅS̶̢͉͖͕̭̥͓̺͇͍͎ ̴̶̸̮͍̺̯̻̦̞̭̘̀͜

dipper and mabel vs the future: NIGHTMARE CHIN

they’re gonna be teeeeens

it’s not that great mabel trust

stan that’s not the only thing you’re going through…

even the mini-shack loses its s…

he’s not your personal gremlin ford. also hey what happened to staying away from the kids like you promised?

given your usual fixit standards just get some duct tape on there.

ford chill jesus just because you act like you hate stan doesn’t mean dipper hates mabel jeez.

oh mabel…

aw he wants to talk to her too…

aliens?

aliens.

familiarity breeds complacency ford.

it’s interesting that everywhere besides earth/’s galaxy has no issues countering bill’s nonsense as far as i can tell. i guess he picked earth/’s galaxy because it was the only place he could handle B)

aww mabel… this show happened fast too.

WHAT DID I SAY FORD

ford no.

ford no don’t turn him into you.

HIS PARENTS DON’T EVEN KNOW YOU FORD.

YOU DON’T KNOW MABEL EITHER FORD.

SHUT THE FUCK UP WHAT DID I ALREADY SAY ABOUT PROJECTING YOUR STAN ISSUES.

that’s STUPID advice ford!!!

NO PRESSURE FORD.

NO HIS HAT

check the rift soon dude that was a hard impact.

this whole time stan and ford haven’t even tried to reconcile this is going to end badly.

‘hold you back’ shut UP ford.

he almost died today mabel, several times.

mabel i get why it sucks for you but he’s not wrong. sad and bad things happen out of everyone’s control all the time and there’s nothing anyone can do about it but deal. 

blendin?

why are you here blendin?

do not trust.

ford ffs.

THIS IS WHY YOU NEED TO TELL YOUR FAMILY THINGS FORD SHE’D KNOW WHY THAT WAS IMPORTANT IF YOU J

AAAA BILL

how’d he snatch blendin up? what could he have possibly offered?????????

yeesh those are some bleak credits with all that screaming. v. second impact.

weirdmageddon, part 1:

here we go here we go here we FUCKIN’ GO

HE’S A REAL LIFE FLESH BOY NOW

he has organs that means he has blood and that means he can bleed.

and we all know what it means if something can bleed.

mabel no.

3-tier pyramid is a downgrade.

black with a neon rainbow border as a 2d triangle is an upgrade though. use that look more often bill.

i like his friends, i’m glad he has some.

GO MAYOR

DADFICA SUCKS ONCE MORE

WOAHHHHHH

NO GIVE HIM HIS DEPUTY BACK

oh this music’s good

but if chaos is the new order doesn’t that make chaos order and order chaos and thus the most chaotic thing to do would surely be not do what everyone expects you to do and leave with no harm done?

OOOOOH THE INTRO

BLOOD RIVER

gotta pause for some of those photos goddam

‘draw me like one of your french triangles~’

mahou shoujo bill cipher magica.

TEETH

i’d be down to watch the adventures of mill, dill, still, will and sill. (that sweater and the hat is legit cute won’t lie. damn u bill)

GNOMEPEDE

not quite dipper but your danger instincts are on point.

any plans to tell stan about this?

that’s a cool-ass tsunami.

GO SOOS

HE’S FREE

gideon’s lol-edgy at best.

YOU WANTED THIS???

HIS HAT’S FLESHY TOO

has he lost some of his all-knowingy ness or is he just basking in himself?

WOAH

bill’s got the terror blink-dash down.

having a shield over his eye means he doesn’t want you hitting his eye. that’s a weakness.

aaand there they go. didn’t think they’d survive the series.

that whale’s just chilling.

oh my god they’re nightmare nerds.

damn she’s dedicated.

woah dipper you’ve done pretty well surviving alone so far.

hey it’s attack on titan if the titans could talk.

TRAP

oh phew.

I SUPPORT BODACIOUS T

wendy owns.

awful kind of bill to label her prison.

MONSTER EDM PARTY

wait possessing? so he never made a deal and just took blendin by force? when did that escalation of his abilities happen?

ugggh time baby.

honestly i’m not even mad, time baby’s lame.

EYE MOUTH

you should be dude.

gideon was here.

NOO BODACIOUS T

it’s gone all mad max

of course gideon would turn.

fuckin’ nasty gideon.

GO WENDY BREAK THOSE BONES

DROPKICK THAT CHILD WENDY DO IT

LET HIM PHILOSOPHIZE BRAT

BIRDIPPER!!

ANIME!!

MEAT!!

LIVE-ACTION!!

oh dear.

SOOS!!!!!!!

SOOS, LEGEND OF THE WASTES, TELL ME OF THESE FOLKSONGS.

trust the prisoners gideon!!!

fucking finally gets a clue. we did miss soos throwing down though.

honestly i feel kinda bad for this guy, even if he eats people.

[alexiela73]

Mccree wakes up with a huge hungover. His s/o is avoiding him all day. Later Mccree sees some bruises on his s/o next and finds out that he made those bruises by choking his s/o because he thought, that she was cheating on him. What does Mccree does next? Can you write a short fanfiction?

I can, and I did. But I don’t really like writing topics like this, mostly because I don’t think that it would have a happy ending. And I don’t write happy endings for these kind. Sorry if this backfired

Jesse McCree stood leaning outside of the Overwatch dining area, a cigar handing between his lips as he glanced up both ways. While there was a strict no smoking inside policy, placed by his dearly ‘adopted’ mother, Ana Amari, Jesse liked to live on the wild side. At least when he needed to clear his head, as he did now.

Usually he would go and light it up outside, pretty respectful of the rules laid out around here. Except Jesse was waiting for you, hoping you might come down this hall sooner or later, knowing there was a good chance for him to catch you going by.

For the last two days, you have been avoiding Jesse…and he’s not stupid. It’s easy to see by the way you avoid his texts, calls and even try to hide from him at work. Every time he thinks he knows where you are, you somehow magically manage to disappear before he arrives.

Jesse has even tried going to your apartment but every time he does, the place is empty and there was no answer at the front door. This has been happening since he got drunk two nights ago, and the next day you weren’t there when he’d woken up.

It was exceptionally rare for Jesse to get drunk. Usually the cowboy was amazing at holding his liquor, but he’d had a few drinks to many and after the sixth, everything had become lost to him. Jesse couldn’t remember anything beyond that point except for waking up in the morning with a nasty hang over. 

Determined to see you and find out the problem, Jesse waited patiently in the hall, daring everyone with a single look to be the bastard to go and tell Ana about him smoking in the hall. When the halls had quieted again, Jesse was just starting to lose hope when you rounded one of the corners.

You wore a sweater, a scarf and jeans, carrying a bundle of papers in your arms. It took you a moment to see him, and Jesse hoped that perhaps the last two days he had imagined them. Except then he saw the look of fear fill your eyes, and immediately you turned tail to walk off.

“Hey, y/n! Wait a damn minute!” Jesse said, following after and within seven long strides, he made it around the corner and managed to catch your arm. 

The way you flinched when he pulled you around made Jesse annoyed, but he was more irritated by how you hid your lower face with your scarf. Was this one of those women things, where there was a pimple you thought to ugly for the world to handle?

“Y/n, what is going on?” Jesse asked, voice growing more gentle and he reached up to pull down the scarf.

“No!” you gasped, pulling back and you clutched the scarf  in one hand. Surprised by the force in your voice, Jesse could only stare for a moment. But this only made him more determined to know what you were hiding.

Taking your hand gently, Jesse tried carefully to pry it away. “Baby, don’t hide your face. Please, tell me what’s going on,” he said, voice soothing and he hates that look of nervousness and fear in your eyes. What were you so scared of?

When Jesse used a little more force to pull on the scarf, you gasped. “Please, don’t-” you started, unintentionally reaching up with both hands and the papers that had been in your arm scattered to the ground, covering the floor.

Immediately you had tried to catch it though, and without thought you had let go of the scarf in hopes of catching the papers. With that, Jesse managed to slide the scarf away…and stared in horror, cigar slipping from his lips and falling to the floor.

Lips parting in shock, Jesse stared at the bright blossoms of purple and blue bruises across the slim expanse of your throat. Most looked like finger prints, big ones and you immediately reached up to cover them with your hands. Except they were on your collar bone too, and Jesse felt his heart starting to beat faster and faster.

What were you scared of, Jesse had thought, and as he thought now about who had caused you those bruises…the look in your eyes told him. 

You were scared of him. 

Upon seeing the realization in his eyes, you immediately lunged forward, grabbing at one of his sleeves. “Jesse,” you said quickly, voice low. “Jesse, don’t-it was an accident, Jesse, you didn’t mean to-”

Jesse’s eyes met yours and you found horror and pain within their depths. “An accident…how could I have accidentally wrapped my hands around your throat?” Jesse asked, voice strained and he found it hard to breath.

Oh god. He’d hurt you…he’d strangled you. That was what you had been avoiding since that night. You had avoided showing him what Jesse had done while piss drunk, hiding that he’d hurt you so bad that your neck was purple from the strength of his hold. 

Slowly Jesse found himself crouching, head hanging between his knees as he tried to breath. It was as it the air had been stolen from him, and his chest just hurt so badly…and yet none of that could compare to the pain he must have caused you. There had been genuine fear in your eyes. 

Jesse had always said he would never hurt you. That he would protect you from anyone who might cause you harm. What happens if that person was himself?

“Jesse,” you whispered, hand on his shoulder and it broke your heart.

Oh, it had been terrifying when it had happened. Jesse had asked you to sleep with him while he was drunk, but you hadn’t wanted to. Instead of getting flirty and trying his luck, Jesse had accused you of liking Genji. The two of you had started fighting and in his drunken stupor, Jesse had gotten violent…

But you didn’t blame him. Jesse hadn’t done it on purpose, nor had he been aware of his crime. And that was how you tried to keep it. You hadn’t wanted him to know…oh no, you had hoped the bruising would fade before you’d have to see Jesse again.

He would never have had to know…

“I can’t…” Jesse whispers, forehead in his arm. You had to lean in to hear him. “I can’t…be around you…”

In that moment, your heart plummeted in your chest. Staring at him, you trembled lightly. “W-what do you mean, Jesse? I-I’m not angry. I’m really not,” you said, before your voice became desperate. “Jesse, please don’t say that-”

Standing suddenly, you felt a chill in you at the numb look in his eyes. “I can’t be around you,” Jesse says quietly, “Not after everything I’ve done to you. I can’t hold you, knowing I did this to you. I…I need to leave.”

Turning, Jesse started walking away. Jesse didn’t know where he was going but he couldn’t stay here. He didn’t deserve you after all of this, after he’d…the thought was too much. The hate for himself too great.

“Jesse, stop!” you cried, standing there, shaking as your arms came up around yourself. “Jesse, I’m begging you. Don’t go. We can get through this together….” The last word was a sob, tears falling down your cheeks.

Jesse paused for only a minute, but he didn’t look back. It seemed like only the world held him there for a moment, giving you one last view of him.

“I love you, y/n,” Jesse said softly, and then walked away.

You slid to your knees, heart in shambles, as you lost the love of your life that day. 

[codyfernaesthetic]

French Kiss

(I swear I tried to come up with a more creative title, but what can ya do?)

Mayor Damien Week Day 3!

You and Damien are left alone after an end of the semester party, and you find out a new fact about your college buddy. 

Not NSFW

You swept a pile of discarded plastic cups and debris off the table into a large garbage bag, already filled nearly to the brim; but you didn’t want to use more than necessary. The more trash you could fit into one bag the better. The common room was an absolute disaster, exactly what you would expect from the remains of a rowdy college party. You jumped to snatch a colorful, papier-mâché decoration hanging on the wall, swearing under your breath as it tore into two, one piece stuck by a piece of duct tape. You slid a nearby chair underneath the piece and stood to carefully peel it from the wall. The last thing you wanted was to hear about the ripped wall paper from the student board. It had taken every trick in the book to get them to agree to this end of the year merriment, including a delicate push from the student board president; who, unsurprisingly, was the only one besides you who stayed behind to help with cleanup. 

“Y/N,”

You turned your head to look at Damien, carrying two bulking trash bags in each hand.

“You got another full bag? I’m going to take these to the dumpster outside.”

You indicate beside you with a jerk of your head, “Over here, but you might want to wait, we might have enough to fill up at least two more.”

He exhaled with a shake of his head, “It’s amazing how much of a mess college students can leave.”

He walked around you and hooked the bag’s strap with his thumb, and you saw him survey the chaotically cluttered room with almost comical distress. You smiled to yourself. 

“Hope the mess doesn’t give you nightmares.”

“You mean I’m not in one?” he replied, walking out the door.

There were certainly other clean people you knew, but Damien was a bona fide neat-freak. You would often hold back a chuckle as he would conscientiously wipe the rim of his glass before leaving it in the bin for the cafe’s cook to clean or retrieve a miniature lint-roller from his bag to clean off his shirt in the middle of a conversation. If you mentioned it, his eyes would brighten with innocent realization and he’d grin, but wouldn’t apologize; that was one of the first things that intrigued you about him. Most people tended to mumble a half-hearted “sorry” whenever one of their quirks were pointed out, as if ashamed to have let their individuality peeked through a façade. Damien never had this problem. He was himself and no one else, and he would never pretend to be that way. In a sea of insecure twenty somethings who had no idea who they were or what they wanted, such unabashed self-confidence without a hint of conceit was novel…and undeniably attractive. 

The two of you continued tidying up, ending up using three more bags. Damien took to straightening up the chairs and couch cushions as you handled the last dumpster trip. You glanced at your watch after returning: 12:45. The weekend curfew extended to 2:00 am, so you weren’t feeling rushed; besides, the only thing back at the dorm was more studying for finals, and you’d had enough of that for a lifetime. Walking over to the couch while Damien scrubbed at a spot on a small table with a wet paper towel, you collapsed onto it with a weary sigh. You didn’t stop your gaze casually focusing on his movements, everyone of them intentional; furrowing his brows in concentration, shifting his weight onto the right side of his body. You’d been running on autopilot for two weeks straight, and everyone else walked around liked caffeine-addicted zombies. Seeing him so put together and fully there for even the most mundane task caused a ripple of admiration in your chest, if not a playful jealousy at his abilities. You closed your eyes for a moment, your fatigue overriding your iron will to stay awake.

You jolted with a quiet groan as a warmth enveloped your shoulder. Damien chuckled over you, moving his hand back to his side, “Sorry, but I don’t think you want to spend your night in here.”

You yawned involuntarily, “Did I fall asleep?”

“Yeah, I would’ve woken you up a bit sooner, but you really look like you needed some good rest.”

You quirked an eyebrow, “Do I look that bad?”

He quickly assured you with wide eyes that he hadn’t meant that at all, but you just laughed and waved it off, “I was kidding. You’re right. But I know the second I walk into my room, study mode will kick on and I’ll be up til 3:00.”

His big brown eyes shone with concern, “Poor thing, you really shouldn’t do that to yourself.”

You shrugged, patting the cushion, “You got anywhere to be?”

“It is passed my bed time,” he smirked, sitting on the other side, “But good company can always waste my time.”

“Aw, I feel so special.”

He leaned back onto the couch, rolling his neck with a slight scrunch of his nose as his bones popped. Now that you had time to actually stop and not have blaring music or constant anxiety over keeping the room clean cloud your thoughts, you noticed he had begun to grow some scruff, and his mop of raven hair was uncharacteristically tussled. Sometime during the night, he had apparently lost the red bow tie he had donned for the evening. There was an unidentifiable (though most likely food related) stain on the center of his royal blue sweater. You found yourself reaching for his face, perhaps influenced by the madness of sleep deprivation, and grazed your fingertips over the scratchy rough patch on his jaw.

“You lose your razor?”

His lips parted in surprise at the touch, but he smiled sheepishly and said, “I suppose finals have taken precedence over personal appearance.”

“It looks good on you,” you admit, slowly dragging your fingers across his chin, “Now you don’t have such a baby face.”

He feigned offense, placing his hand over his heart, “I have the chiseled features of a man, thank you.”

You closed your lips before you made your next comment, something about how gorgeous he actually was, no matter what he did to his outward appearance. You didn’t want to say something so obvious and freak him out, though he’d probably handle it with grace.

Noticing your silence, he filled in the space, “Besides, I don’t have time with all the stress the board is putting on me. They have a million ideas for end of the year activities and decided to unload every single one of them on me in our last meeting.”

You laughed, jokingly crossing your arms, “Well, maybe you should have thought of that before you stole the position from me.”

He playfully shoved you, “Hey, you said you forgave me for that.”

“I did, don’t get your panties in a bunch,” you adjusted your position and folded up your legs underneath you, “You earned it, fair and square.”

You wouldn’t have been able to say that immediately after he won the election, but his gracious manner and kind disposition had won you over as well as the rest of the student body. 

He winked, “You were a worthy opponent.”

You felt your stomach flip. You looked away to escape his genuine smile. A stretch of comfortable silence passed between the two of you, until you decided to pass the time with an idea.

“You wanna play a game?”

He nodded nonchalantly, “Sure.”

You had no idea why this had come to your mind; perhaps it was to simply get to know your good friend a little better, “I’ll tell you a secret and then you have to guess whether or not I’m telling the truth.”

He shifted his body toward you, determined grin playing at the corner of his lips, “Ok, go ahead.”

You pursed your lips, thinking about what to say, “Ok, I went on a date last Valentine’s Day-”

“False.”

You picked up the cushion beside you and whacked him, but were unable to remove the smile from your face. He snickered, holding out his arms in defense. When you were satisfied with his punishment, you continued, “Anyway, we went to dinner, and then a play, but we ran into an angry ex of mine. My date and ex got into a pretty nasty fight, and the next thing I know there’s a gun thrown onto the ground and they’re both begging me to shoot the other one.”

His eyes widened, jaw dropping slightly.

You nodded as if to agree with his shock, “Well, I was freaking out, so I shot just to stop the fight and ended up shooting my ex,” you then shrugged casually and added, “And then me and my date got ice cream.”

Damien ran his fingers through his hair, exhaling a breathy laugh at the harrowing tale, “Please tell me that’s not true.”

You grinned mischievously, “It’s not. But me and my date did end up going to a park and they asked me to marry them. Needless to say, I never saw them again.”

He chuckled nervously, “Better than shooting someone.”

You gestured to him, “Ok, now you.”

He paused for a moment, drumming his fingers on his knee as he thought. He finally told you, “I’m bilingual.”

You pouted, “Really? I put so much effort into mine.”

He threw up his hands, “I don’t have your story-weaving abilities!”

You squinted, tapping your chin, “True?”

He shook his head, “Nope...I’m trilingual.”

For a moment, you swear you felt your heart skip a beat. It felt silly, but for whatever reason, the idea of him speaking another language made heat pour into your belly. Your mind conjured up an image of him whispering in your ear, his soft lips smiling against your skin, his newly grown stubble pleasurably scraping against your cheek, and-

You pole-vaulted that thought away so quickly, you were surprised you didn’t physically jump as it exited your mind. You huffed out in a sarcastic tone, “Wow, way to brag.”

His mouth twitched in confusion, a twinge of what seemed like genuine hurt filling his eyes, “I’m not bragging, it’s just a fact.”

You cursed yourself silently. You hadn’t meant for it to come across so harsh. You smile and ask, “What languages?” in a tone a bit too bright and enthusiastic. 

He quirked an eyebrow, but thankfully chose to ignore the strange shift in your behavior, “French from my mother and Italian from my father, they didn’t want their native languages to completely fade from future generations. Me and my sister were always prepared for overseas family reunions.”

You bit the inside of your cheek, hating yourself for the next words to leave your mouth in a small voice, “Could I hear a little bit of it?”

He looked at you, his eyes sparkling with something you couldn’t quite decipher. You felt your cheeks burn, praying for something, anything, to interrupt this sudden intensity. 

With a burst of adrenalin, you rung your hands and begged jeeringly to lighten the mood, “Speak French to me. Oh, please, Damien, speak French to me.”

He broke into a fit of laughter, probably more from the building tension than your outburst, “Ok, ok...” he paused as if to flip a switch in his brain, “Bonjour, mon amie, comment vas-tu?” 

His voice glided over the syllables with the grace of a swan.  You crossed your arms in front of you, hoping desperately he didn’t hear your breath hitch, “I’m assuming you asked how I was doing?”

He tipped his head toward you, “You would be correct.”

“How do you say, “I’m exhausted”?”

“Je suis épuisé.”

You attempted to repeat him, fumbling through what sounded neither like French nor any other recognizable language, “It sounds like my tongue’s swollen.”

He chuckled, “Good try, though. A for effort!”

The both of you become quiet again. You look off to the side, checking your watch; even though you couldn’t care less about the time,1:30. Your attention was pulled back when you felt him move closer towards the middle of the couch. He lifted up his arms in a long stretch, letting a quiet yawn escape. You knew it wasn’t like him to stay up so late, and the fact that he was doing it for your sake made you feel a little guilty, but elated at the same time. Maybe he was trying to politely signal that he wanted to leave so he could go to bed?

“If you’re tired, you can head on back to the dorms. I wouldn’t want to keep you.”

He shook his head, “I’m fine. Being up a little late never hurt anyone. Are you sure you don’t need to get some sleep?”

You waved your hand dismissively, “Who sleeps in college?”

He smiled, staring at you with that indecipherable gaze again, “I guess you’re right.”

You find yourself, almost unconsciously, scooting closer to him. You glance down and see your hands mere centimeters apart. You can feel heat pass between you as you look back up into his eyes. His gaze quickly flicks up to meet yours. Was he just looking at your lips? His fingers inch closer to yours. You scratch the back of your head, leaning away from him,  “Ok, now you tell me a secret, but you have to say it in French and I have to decipher it and then say if it’s true.”

There’s a glimmer of disappointment in his eyes. You mentally kicked yourself. Why were you so bad at this?

His next words sounded more like an exhale, you swear his eyes dropped back to your lips, “Je veux t'embrasser.”

Every muscle was as heavy as lead, your heart pounded. You wanted him to stop looking at you like that...but also didn’t want him stop. 

“I’m lost. Tell me.” Your voice was no more than a breath.

He moved closer, his face colored red, “Je veux t'embrasser means…I want to kiss you.”

You were shaking, “True.”

He nodded, biting his lower lip.

You leaned forward, inquiring as you placed your hand on his knee, “How do you say, “I want to kiss you too”?”

He answers with a sly grin, reaching out to cup your cheek, “Je veux t'embrasser aussi.”

You licked your lips, heart threatening to explode out of your chest, “Well, don’t make me say it…I don’t speak French.”

He smiled as he placed his lips on yours, his stubble tickling your chin. You taste mint on his breath, smelling the remnants of cologne emanating from him. Warmth surrounds your entire body. You bring your hand up to run your fingers through his hair, slowly deepening the kiss. He gasped a small moan against your mouth and a jolt of electricity shot through you. Your other hand slid up his chest, his heartbeat throbbing underneath your fingertips. He pulled you even closer, gripping your waist. He broke away to kiss the curve of your neck, whispering primal affections into your skin. You guided him back to your lips, greedily taking possession. His throat rumbled in a growl. You both began tugging at each other’s clothes, begging without saying a word. You pulled him with you as you lay back against the couch, boldly slipping your hands underneath his sweater, surprised at yourself. 

He pulled back, resting his forehead against yours, taking a deep breath. You place a peck just below his lips, worried that you scared him off.

“It’s late…” he groaned huskily, placing quick kisses on your neck and chin, “I wouldn’t want you to be late for curfew…” 

You ran your palms further up his chest, giggling, “You’re such a Boy Scout…it’s adorable.”

The look he gave you screamed that he didn’t want to stop; but resignedly, he gave you another hungry kiss before sitting up, “I’ll walk you to the dorm.”

You held hands as the night air cooled your burning skin. You stole glances his way, each time seeing an intoxicated smile gracing his gorgeous face; and you couldn’t wipe the grin off your own. When you reached the building, you both stare at each other, unsure what to say. He finally chuckled and said, “I wouldn’t mind your company more often, if you wouldn’t mind.”

You nodded, “I wouldn’t mind at all,” leaning over to kiss his cheek, “Maybe you could teach me some French?”

He licked his lips, pausing as if to stop himself from kissing you again, “Bien sur, mon amie.”

You both share a laugh before you enter the dorm, feeling exhilarated.

You noticed for the rest of the semester that he kept the stubble.